Survival Of The Fittest

(Benjamin Lichter continues from If We Could Have Tomorrow in Technicolor)

Ben's feet sloshed through the water as he searched the basement. This, along with his flashlight, made stealth impossible. He didn't like that, but if he wanted to find his friend, what choice did he have?

Plenty, according to the voice that had politely suggested he refrain from coming down here. Now it was just muttering at him to slosh a little less.

"Stop complaining," Ben told it. "I can't do that; it's either sloshing or splashing, and splashing is even louder. Look." He then bent over, pointing his flashlight at the floor, and slapped the water a few times with his left hand, illustrating his point. Then he stopped and froze.

"What the hell are you doing?" whispered the voice. "I'm sorry," Ben whispered back meekly. "That was... that was..."

"Incredibly stupid, yes," hissed the voice. "Let's hope for our sake that no one heard that. Now, move, in case someone did."

Ben did as he was told. Moving further through the damp darkness of the corridor, he found a few things: gurneys, string, and a can of all things, but no Maxim. And then he found the strangest thing of all: He found an electric chair.

((Clarice Halwood continued from All Good Things To Those Who Wait.))

This area smelt of corpses.

Granted, everywhere was starting to stink of death. But, likely due to corpses getting mixed up in the water flooding the place, this area really, really smelt like ass.

Clarice wasn't sure what she was hoping for. There were maybe some vague ideas in her head that this hospital might have… something, anything… that she could use. It didn't seem to be much of an idea, but it was all she had to go on. Better to focus on that than get all hopeless. Better to focus on that than on grief when it wouldn't do her any good.

She didn't bother to be quiet. There was no way it would work down here, and even if it did… well, if she was seen then that's how it went.

Clarice wandered down the corridor, and heard splashing ahead of her. So someone else was definitely down here.

She could have run, but… well, fuck it.

"Hellooo?" she called out tentatively. Her voice was a little hoarse. Maybe from yesterday's smoke.

Just as Ben was approaching the chair, a voice sounded out from the corridor. Startled, he swung the beam of his flashlight around, and pointed it at the doorway, hoping to see who it was. "No! You'll just reveal where you are!" the voice reprimanded him. "Turn it off!" Fumbling, Ben switched it off. In an instant he was plunged into inky darkness. He slipped the flashlight into his pocket. Now hide! Ben looked around the room, his eyes still adjusting, then stumbled towards the chair, his hands reaching out before him. He got behind it, making sure it was between him and the door, and crouched down. He was trapped! We're trapped!

Yes, we're trapped. We shouldn't have come down here. Keep hiding!

What if... what if they want to hurt us?

Then we'll have to run or fight back.

We can't fight, we've got no weapons!

No, we don't. We... unless...

Ben had a thought. A desperate thought. But one that might work. He quickly turned around and sat against the chair, soaking his pants while doing so, and untied the laces on his left walking boot. He slipped it off and grabbed it by the top. Holding it in his right hand, he peeked around the chair, waiting for the new arrival.

((Alessio Rigano continued from Forklift Driver Klaus))

Alessio managed to forget how dirty he was while he walked to this location. It was very uncomfortable to think about all the dirt he sat on and how he was surrounded by spider nets, dust, dirt and really bad air. But by the time he walked down to the electroshock therapy room, he wasn't bothered by it anymore.

Then he walked in, but slowly. He thought he'd heard a girl voice.

The dirtied, bloodied Italian slowly walked down the basement with a gun in his hand.

Now she was in a… room. There was a chair? Maybe? Clarice couldn't see shit. If only she had a source of—

"Oh, right."

Clarice tried to open her bag so she could retrieve her flashlight, having forgotten that she even had one. Her attempt to do so with just her good arm, however, only resulted in her accidentally slipping the strap off her shoulder and letting the bag plop into the disgusting water.

"Fucking bullshit," she muttered under her breath, crouching down to retrieve it. As she did so, she heard a faint sloshing noise from the path she'd just taken here.

Noise here, noise there. No-one saying anything.

That didn't sit well. Clarice didn't end up retrieving her flashlight, only slinging the bag back on her shoulder and continuing to squint in the darkness. If there were people around, not calling out or responding… maybe that meant a trap. She wouldn't want to shine a light if it was.

Although… she supposed they already knew she was here.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath, squinting fruitlessly in the dark. All she could make out was the vague silhouette of that chair.

Which looked a little people shaped, now that she really looked at it.

"Uh. Hi?"

"Uh. Hi?"

Ben jerked his head back behind the chair. Had they seen him? They knew he, or someone, was here, but did they know they were behind the chair? Could they even see the chair in the darkness?

Or did they really know anyone was there, or were they only testing? Should he answer? If... if they searched the room, they would find him anyway. But then he might lose the element of surprise. Like that would help him in a fight.

This wasn't like with Noah and Hannah. If he got spotted here, and they weren't friendly, he couldn't just run. The only thing that might scare them was... was bluffing. Lying. Like with the girl with the eye-patch. But what if they didn't believe him? He wasn't good at lying. Lying was wrong... usually. Unless it kept him alive. That wasn't wrong.

He started to say "Stay back! I'm armed!", but the fear of revealing himself tightened his throat, causing only his lips to move. He tried again, but the same thing happened.

So instead, he said nothing.

As he reached the end of the stairs and the beginning of the room with silent, cautious steps, he saw nothing.

He just heard voices. And steps.

"Hi."

Oh, and there was a voice behind her. Well, better that than silence.

"Okay, guess if you're talking it's not a trap," Clarice said. "Oh... whoever you are. You and..." Clarice squinted in the darkness. Maybe she had just been talking to a chair.

Clarice reached for her bag, fumbled for a moment and this time managed to retrieve her flashlight. She turned it on with a click.

Guy near chair, as she'd suspected. But forget that.

Other guy. Covered in blood. Holding a gun.

Clarice turned off the flashlight, then in her infinite wisdom threw it at him. Or in his direction, now that they were back on the dark.

From behind the chair, Ben listened to the events unfolding. First, another person arrived. They said hi. Ben felt like his heart dropped into his stomach - alone, there had been a flimsy chance of Ben dodging past them or hitting them with his boot or something. With two of them, even that was gone. Then the girl - and it was a girl, Ben could hear that now - guessed that the other person talking meant it wasn't a trap.

So she wasn't with the other person, and had been afraid of a trap herself. Ok. That made him feel a little better.

Then someone turned on a flashlight, lighting the the chair and its surroundings. Ben winced, took a sudden breath and instinctively threw his left hand in front of his eyes. If he hadn't been seen before, he could be seen now, he thought. But the light moved away without further comment from the girl or the other person, and then, just as suddenly, turned off. Something was about to happen, and they knew he was there. Ben scrambled to his feet and--

As he was blinded by the light [revved up like a deuce another runner in the night] he would've shot blindly at Clarice. Of course, he had no real gun, so he did not shoot. He closed his eyes to not be blinded anymore, but soon he saw through his closed eyelids that there was no light anymore and in fact there was the sound of a flashlight falling to the ground.

It was back to dark, it was hard to see anything. Somewhere there was a wrestling girl and a squirrel in the room he couldn't see and he wouldn't expect it if they attacked him. And by god, they would attack him.

They didn't see Al without the light, but they definitely could hear the footsteps running out of the room, almost stumbling, before regaining balance to get the fuck out.

((Alessio Rigano continued in 70's Horror Movies III))

"Uh?"

And… they just left. Well, that was… probably better than the alternative, but now Clarice just felt weird about throwing stuff at him. Maybe he just happened to be splattered in blood—okay no that sounded stupid no matter how she phrased it. Well, good riddance, then.

What wasn't good riddance, however, was that her flashlight was now somewhere in the water and she had no idea where.

"…Fuck."

Clarice started sloshing around in the water—which was starting to make her feet feel way too chilly—hoping that she'd bump her flashlight with her foot. It was only then that she realised, oh right, there was another guy in the room with her still. Maybe. She'd kind of lost track through all the other sloshing.

"Hey! Hidey guy, whoever you are! You mind turning on your light or something? I mean, I kinda know you're there already."

(Minor GMing of Clarice approved)

--there was a slight whoosh, a wet thud, then the sound of someone running away, back down the corridor. Ben crouched to the right of the chair, his left hand resting on it to keep his balance, listening intently for whatever came next. "Uh?" grunted someone.

"...Fuck."

It was still the girl. It had sounded like she threw something, just after she said she knew it wasn't a trap. And without a warning! Ben raised the boot in his hand, listening to where she was, eyes peeled for her silhouette. He did his best to keep quiet, to control his breathing, but despite his best efforts he shook with adrenaline and fear. This time there would be no talking. This time he was facing someone violent.

Then she started walking, her feet sloshing noisily through the water. She was still between him and the door, but she wasn't coming towards him. Why didn't she turn on her light? Didn't she have one? Had that been the other guy?

"Hey! Hidey guy, whoever you are! You mind turning on your light--", she spoke, but Ben stopped listening: He saw movement. In one fluid motion he stood up, raised his boot over his head and threw it at the girl. A satisfying "Thud" and "Ow" occurred, but Ben was already hobbling towards the door. He managed to get his flashlight out of his pocket, turned it on, and ran. Unevenly, since he only had one boot on, but still pretty damn fast.

(Benjamin Lichter continues in Local Man Convicted Of Suicide)

Something clunked into Clarice's skull and there was a brief moment of… not so much pain as slight dizziness and confusion.

Clarice tossed the boot onto the chair the boy had been hiding near. No point in tossing it back into the muck. Then she started tapping her foot around, hoping she'd bump into her flashlight.

Eventually, she did. She fished it out of the water only to discover it didn't work.

"Fuck's sake," she muttered.

She shook the flashlight a bit before eventually tossing it aside. She heard the splash, then started to make her way out. The speck of light from the other boy's flashlight was long gone. The slight ache to the back of her head was the only sign that anything had happened at all.

((Clarice Halwood continued in Topic Title.))