Prepare to Burn

[Grim Wolf]

(Tara Behzad continued from Those Who Play The Most Dangerous Game)

So.  She had her map.  And she had her vision.  Her pretension of power and her simple goal: to die happy.

Ha!  And what a goal!  Happiness, because Tara Behzad had always been so happy!  She thought of Bast, home safe somewhere, probably curled up in a ball beneath a ray of sunlight, totally ignorant of what had befallen her owner.  She'd always envied cats.

She studied her blood stained map, still sucking on her fingertip, tracing the contours of the idiot pentagram she's made.  Not even recognizable as such, not really, but she knew what she had to do.  She knew where she was going.

It wasn't far from the cliffs, and she'd kept to their edge, always teetering, staring down into the teeth of the crashing sea and rocks below, then back to the barbed wire fence on the other side.  A rather lovely metaphor, really.  The one option was a gate that promised only pain in the attempt of crossing: the other, sure and certain death.  For now, Tara kept to the no man's land between.  

It did not long to reach her goal: the old Warehouse on her map.  The figure was not a part of her roughshod pentagram, though the blood had smeared a little so it touched the edges.  She had been torn between this one and the storehouse her map indicated was at the dock, but had opted for this location because it was so much closer.  Besides, the collar on her neck was a persistent reminder.  It could blow at any moment, and at this moment Tara would not die happy.

So she made her way through the aisles of the asylum's orderly warehouse, humming softly to herself over her thumb, taking stock of the goods inside to see what she might use.

[backslash]

((Cristóbal Morales continued from i can't wait to be sad and alone on the edge of the universe))

There was movement. Someone silhouetted against the light from outside, before slipping into the darkness just as quickly. Cristo blinked a couple times to let his eyes adjust again after the sudden intrusion of the light.

Now, he felt a trickle of fear, something that had been absent so far. People were dangerous in so many ways, he knew. But he stood anyway, grunting softly as his muscles protested from being hunched up so long. His fingertips just brushed the handle of the spear as he rose, but he left it at his feet.

"Hey," he called softly.

[Grim Wolf]

A voice in the dark. Tara froze, finger still in her mouth, hand resting on a crumbling cardboard box. She had just been enjoying the way it gave beneath her fingertips, like mud as your fingers pressed through. Now there was a strange, someone she hadn't seen, someone-

Her hand twitched, but did not quite move to the bag that held her flashbangs. No, not yet, if ever: she knew too well the harm these things could bring, and anyways that was the path that led down into the rocks and crashing surf. She was still in no man's land. She would not choose death or pain, not yet. She would hold that place as long as she could.

"Hey," she said.

She squinted, trying to make out the figure standing in the dark. Vaguely familiar. Where had seen him? On stage, maybe?

Pieces clicked into place. She remembered his fingers on a piano. "Cris?" she ventured.

[backslash]

Cristo drew in a breath in surprise; he hadn't quite expected to be recognized, for some reason. "Yeah," he called back. "Um, it's Cristo Morales, not Luz." Crisanto wasn't here, he remembered. That was... good. Yes, good. As much as he'd like the support of his friends and teammates in this awful situation the fewer of them that were here, the better.

He recognized the girl, too. Small, pretty, unusual name. He'd seen her running before, and hanging around the fine arts wing of the school when he sometimes slipped in to practice the piano. "It's Tara, isn't it? Something like that?" Despite the sheer weirdness of their surroundings, he felt the familiar twinge of embarrassment and nerves at not being certain of remembering someone's name.

He also had no idea what to say next. He took an uncertain step towards her. "I'm, uh. I'm alone. And not... not armed." Not untrue, strictly speaking. The spear remained on the floor, and his movements would definitely be noticeable if he went to pick it up.

"Are you... looking for something?"

[Grim Wolf]

"Yeah, Tara," Tara said, listening to him.  "Oh, right.  Sure.  You're both...uh..."  They played a sport together, but she couldn't remember which one.  Two Cris' on the same team, ha.  But she guessed Lizzie's brother wasn't a pianist.  Would be funny if he was.  Hey, I just met your sister, she told me not to die, that was cool of her

"You're on the same team, right?" Tara said.  "Or you...were..."

She considered his question, looking around the warehouse.  Well, of course she was looking for something.  She was looking for a couple somethings, in fact.  There was a lot to be done.  She weighed her options, hefted her bag, considered.  Had to die happy, but that would take so much prep work, and there were about a hundred missteps she could take along the way.  She'd already evaluated her map, and wheels were turning in her head.  

"I've got these flashbangs, right?" Tara said.  "And that's cool and all, but I'd...kinda like something I can use if, uh..."  She shrugged.  "I was thinking, like, a hammer?  Just something I can have handy and maybe...hurt someone without..."

She trailed off and shook her.  "Christ, this is depressing."

[backslash]

"I'm the second baseman," Cristóbal answered automatically, not letting himself think about "is" and "was" and what they meant. "Cris is the pitcher and team captain." The one who was supposed to come up with the plan, he added silently, and was quietly repulsed by his own longing to see his friend step out of the shadows and greet him here.

Tara was looking for supplies. A weapon, really, let's be honest here. Cristo tried not to think too hard about what that meant, even though she sounded like she didn't really want to have to use a weapon against anybody. Neither did he, right?

Right.

Cristo took the chance to move a few more steps towards Tara, one hand trailing the shelf next to him. "Depressing's one word for it, yeah..." he murmured.

But he couldn't afford to give up, whatever "giving up" entailed now or in the future. He didn't have a plan, had barely any supplies, but he had the knowledge that he couldn't give up. "Have you, uh... have you seen anyone else yet? From our class, I mean." Of course she knew what he meant, what else would he mean? Dumb, dumb, dumb.

[Grim Wolf]

"Uh, yeah," Tara said.  "Yeah.  I saw Cris' sister.  Lizzie.  And that pretentious douche Alex Tarquin."  She paused, then added thoughtfully, "Well.  I guess saying 'pretentious douchebag' kinda makes me a pretentious douchebag."

He was moving closer to her.  She weighed her options, wondered if she should bolt, decided against it.  She didn't know Cris very well, but he'd always seemed gentle.  Something about the way he played the piano, the way he moved through the halls.  She wasn't worried yet.

yet

"No one killing," she said.  "No one dying.  That I've seen."  She looked past him, down the aisles.  "It won't last."

She moved towards him, still searching the stacks and shelves, looking for that hammer.

[backslash]

Lizzie was here. A potential friendly face. Another hole in someone's heart when the inevitable came. Cristo chewed his lip and didn't give voice to either of those thoughts. Tara and Lizzie obviously hadn't stuck together, and as for the second thing...

Well, Tara had already said it well enough. Their fragile morning peace wouldn't last. All across this place, the chains would come off. Someone would snap, whether from fear, or anger, or a simple misunderstanding going too far. It didn't matter the reason. You could never take it back.

A barely-audible sigh left Cristo's lips. "I don't suppose you have any sort of plan, do you? I'm blank."

[Grim Wolf]

"Plan?" she repeated, with a small smile. Inwardly, she shrieked. Plan? Idiot idiot idiot, why discuss plans? The cameras are watching you, waiting to turn your slow descent into fodder for peoples' worst fears, waiting to lampoon your failures and your stupidity. Did he know nothing.

Well. He probably wasn't like her, watching footage and fan-edits alone in her room, back to the wall and face to the door so she could change her screen at a moment's notice. He had to realize that anything he said aloud, they would use against him. Any sign of going against the grain, and they'd blow the bomb they'd placed around his neck. If he had a plan, how to warn him?

"Does dying happy count?" Tara asked. "Because that's really all I got." She paused, then added, "Which is, y'know. Why I need that hammer. Don't think I can really pull it off if I'm gonna get..."

Well, what? How do you die happy, if you're trying to live.

"Smile for the camera," she said, nodding to the gleam of a visible camera in the corner of the room.

[backslash]

What Cristo could see of Tara's smile in the dim light unnerved him. Her following words were no better.

The cameras... he'd forgotten about the cameras, for a little while. There had been no whir of motion, no indication that they were zeroed in on him while he remained still and huddled in the corner. Now he was up and moving, and they were surely tracking his every breath.

He shuddered.

There was something off about Tara, too, something just under the surface there that he couldn't put his finger on and wasn't sure he wanted to. Maybe she was a little unbalanced from all that had happened. Maybe she did have a plan and just didn't want to let him - or anyone watching - in on it. Maybe she was just an odd girl.

"I... see," was all he could come up with as reply.

[Grim Wolf]

"Good," Tara said. "I don't." She paused, then added, "See a hammer. That's...what I meant."

Good one, Tara.

Silence in the warehouse. Narrowed eyes combing the supply lines, looking for some trace of a toolbox, or a polished wooden handle gleaming on the shelves.

"How do you want to die?" Tara asked.

[backslash]

Cristóbal actually started at Tara's question. Things were quickly progressing from unsettling to outright wrong here (moreso than they already had been, at least), if he took her words at face value. And if he didn't, well... he didn't know what sort of deeper meaning he was supposed to be looking for.

"I don't suppose I've ever thought about it," he said finally. He didn't want to think about it, especially not here and now.

"Peacefully, I guess." Vague enough to keep trying to keep his mind off it.

"What-" Cristo began and then stopped himself. He'd been about to reciprocate the question out of habit, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was too absurd, too inappropriate.

"I'll help you look for that hammer," he said instead. Cristo turned to the shelf next to him and peered into the crumbling cardboard boxes, poking about with his fingertips to see if he would happen upon the shape of the desired tool.

[Grim Wolf]

"Thanks," Tara said.

They searched in silence for at time. That was intentional. Tara could hear the hesitation in his voice, the strain. Perfectly understandable. Wasn't she feeling the same? Stretched to the limit, a string about to snap.

Peacefully, huh. Sounded nice. Drift off all quiet, like you were falling asleep. Probably woudn't feel so racked and wretched and-

Wait.

"Wait," Tara called across the storehouse. "Have you not been thinking about it?"

[Latin For Dragula]

(Abby Floyd Is Doing Things I Guess)

"Cristo?"

He was with her before they fell asleep. They had been talking about...Lord, her head was fuzzy, but she remembered her heart jumping a little, taking his hand, smiling...

Abby was known for being relentlessly positive. Most people seemed to figure she saw the best in everyone, and mistook that for assuming goodness. If you asked her if she thought people who knew each other for so much of their lives, who lived with each other, some of whom even loved each other...if you asked her if those people could hurt each other, you'd probably expect her to say no. That just didn't seem to fit into the upbeat way she looked at the world.

What do you mean you don't want to involve yourselves?

Abby knew better than that. She firmly believed that the world was a beautiful, wonderful place. She also knew that people did terrible things every day, and she'd seen firsthand that they didn't just do them to strangers. She was well aware that her acquaintances, and even her friends, could do horrible, unthinkable things to her and everyone else they knew given the wrong motivations and the wrong mindset.

She still wouldn't run from anyone who needed her.

That brought her running to the sound of Cristo's voice after she came to. She needed a friendly face to calm her nerves, and she had a feeling he did too. When she turned the shelf and saw him across from her, tears welled up with her relieved grin. "Cristo!" Thank you Jesus, he looked fine. Not well, but fine. Given the circumstances, that was all she could reasonably pray for.

[backslash]

Cristo was taken aback by Tara's question, and even more by how much it seemed to confuse her that he hadn't been mulling over all the various ways he might die. "Well- no." Of course the thought had crossed his mind, but he'd been trying not to dwell on it. What good would dwelling on it do besides making him want to curl up in a ball on the floor and never move again? He frowned and bit at his lip, trying to focus on going through the boxes he could reach instead of Tara's ever-increasing strangeness to him.

One of the boxes at least contained a few miscellaneous tools, but no hammer. Nothing particularly sharp or hefty at all, actually; it seemed like this warehouse had been pretty well picked-over by someone ahead of time. His musing on this was soon given a very welcome interruption, however.

"Wha- Abby?"

It was her. It was her! She was right here, right where he'd woken up!

Was it really allowed to be that easy?

He wanted to run to Abby, but he needed to tell Tara about the lack of hammers, and he should probably let Tara know that it was Abby and she didn't mean any harm and vice-versa, and, and...

Too many conflicting signals led Cristo to just make an odd shuffling motion as he remained indecisive which direction to move in first. There was so much he suddenly needed to do, to say, and all that his mouth could figure out was "Um," but he was grinning like a fool.