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Chapter Text

      Welcome, welcome audiences of all sorts of kinds! I am your narration-loving host, [][][][][]. Before you go on to view the SEASON TWO FINALE of your FAVORITE show, allow me to proceed with some content warnings and other fun information. 

     Remember what you're watching: this is the famed first-and-only REAL* Murder Mystery the world has EVER seen! Because of the nature of MURDER and MYSTERIES, please do not play this SPECIAL tape around YOUNG CHILDREN, OR PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE FOLLOWING TOPICS:

     Canon-Typical Violence (I.e murder— nothing extremely graphic)

     Torture for one chapter (offscreen, alluded to)

     Now that THOSE wonderful people have hopefully clicked off and are having a great and MURDER-FREE day, let us proceed with some FUN and SILLY information!

     Like any other game show, LIGHT'S OUT shows different perspectives from our favorite (or not favorite) characters, which may or may not include ME! Cuts to different times are utilized in this episode too, which may result in POV changes. Flashbacks will also be present on occasion!

      As the faithful staff behind this show, we value YOUR input! See something you don't like? Want to amp up the heat some more? Anxiously waiting for the next installment?! Let us know down in the... 'comment' section. 

     All of us here, whether it be me OR your favorite-or-non-favorite characters can ALL be found under JJ Studio's, the Flicker owners, jurisdiction. 

     Thank you, and have a great time watching!


                                                                                                                                                         ~
     Oh? What's this? We have behind-the-scenes people of honor?

     Hm... 'A thanks to Lily (Lilythecoolperson - user is on Wattpad) , who helped me with a few chapters (one and two - before I revised them all). She helped me get this fanfic going when it first started off as nothing but a few sentences. Thank you, Joey and Rae for beta reading and for supporting my writing! Thank you, Ms. Tran, for also beta-reading and for your cultivation of my writing skills! Take a thank-you, too, for taking your time to read this. I hope you enjoy. Let's get on with the show.'

     Let's get on with the show indeed. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 1 - Murder House, a House Like No Other

[Scarlett - Ger'x e asqer kix e fvieo?]

[ It's shocking how accurately dreams can line up with reality. Maybe a God decided to spare her some favor for once, warning her of what was to come in waves of crimson red. ]
                                                                                                                                                            ~

     I didn't want to say, "Where am I?" right off the bat. Obviously I didn't know where I was, and would it really matter?

     It was pretty dark in this room, with only a dim light bulb to lighten it up. I noticed an air bed in front of me, someone on it. I staggered towards them, ignoring the strange pulses of pain coursing through my legs. Now where did that come from? I struggled to take a deep breath, or any at all, as my vision gradually adjusted. 

     The other person saw me and waved. I saw their vague outline through the light.

     "Uh, hey," I greeted the person, a bit timidly. My gaze locked on what I could see of them.

     The person nodded their head and replied, "Hi, I'm Ash." with mutual emotion. His sweatshirt had the Thrasher logo on it and everything he wore was black, including his visor. Ash's eyes were a deep shade of crimson, and seemed just as confused as I was. Surely he must wear contact lenses. 

     I got on the bed and smiled anxiously at Ash, eager to find out just what we were doing here. I averted my eyes as he stared back at me, almost inquisitively. 

     "Do you think there's more people here?" I blurted, regretting my dumb question a few seconds later. It was like he could see every goosebump on my arm or the way I shivered despite the lukewarm temperature. This guy might've kidnapped me, for all I know! 

     "Yeah, most likely. Why are we here anyway?" Ash raised an eyebrow, hopped off the bed, and headed towards the door with not so much as a sweat.  "Come on, um..."

     "Scarlett. You can call me Scarlett." A lump formed in my throat as I internally debated this man's trustworthiness. How could he be so calm while my legs felt like stacks of marshmallows? 

     He only nodded before opening the door for me. I walked through, hit with the smell of bleach and the sight of a long corridor to our right. 

     "I like your name," Ash went ahead of me, looking back as he saw me hesitantly following after him. 

     "Thanks," I croaked as our footsteps echoed throughout the empty corridor. Realizing I wasn't ready for conversation, he shut his mouth as we walked forward and reached a downward staircase. 

     "Why are we even here, anyway?"  The man had a good point when he said that.

     As soon as we descended, the sound of our footsteps was dominated by chatter from every side. My eyes were assaulted by a disgustingly bright white light, forcing me to shut my eyes until I heard the noise die down.

     "Ash!" The first thing I saw was a lady with warm, dark skin and a faded yellow dress embracing the man in front of me with a slight smile on her face. Behind her was another man with pale skin and spiky, over-gelled hair. He offered Ash a smirk and a wave. 

     I skirted off to the side as he greeted all of his friends, hugging the girl, fist-bumping Spiky-Hair, and patting the back of yet another new man with brown hair and a bright, cheeky smile. How did all of these people get here in the first place? How mysterious.

     I felt envy boil in my chest at the sheer amount of closure he had in this place. Him with all his friends, people he can trust... 

     A slight frown formed on my face, quickly wiped away as one of these friends waved at me. "Ah, hello! My name is Dan."

     It was the happy brown-haired man. He had a slight British accent. I forced a smile onto my face and waved back before I stared into the depths of the floor. "Hello. I'm Scarlett."

     "Oh?" Spiky-Hair stepped closer. He had some rugged black sneakers on, and his shoelaces were untied. "Nice to meet ya then, Scarlett!"

     He had an unbelievably resounding voice, but at least he seemed friendly. Ash intervened before I could say anything. 

     "Use your indoor voice Thomas," Ash teased, nudging him. 

     "Oh please," the man in question rolled his eyes, but he did quiet down by a bit. "Sorry, Scarlett."

     Miss Yellow Dress came forward and flashed me a tiny smile, tapping her sandal on the ground. "I'm, uh, Liza. You can--"

     "You can come with us!" Thomas bellowed as Ash facepalmed next to me. 

                                                                                                                                                    ~

     For once in this suspicious house, I started to relax. Ash was telling us about another silly skateboard story while Thomas provided us with some jokes with his newfound buddy Spencer. 

     Occasionally, Dan would get up and talk with others, leaving Liza and I to be subjected to the table's antics. 

     From what I could tell, no one knew why they were here-- but there was nothing wrong is trying to make the most out of our stay here.  

     But of course, I would soon come to know the voice of evil: the voice of the Intercom. Which is what happened right after Thomas finished chugging his pickle juice. 

     One static noise from somewhere in the room. Then another.

     "...Is this thing on?" a nasally voice came through, causing me to jolt. "Oops, yes, it is. Hey guys!"

     "Hi...?" Liza murmured, her eyes locking with mine as she frowned. Some others attempted to greet the intercom speaker too, most hesitant. 

     "Welcome, welcome!" The voice sounded suspiciously cheerful. "Ah, welcome to the Murder House. Amongst you is a traitor. A murderer--who'll try to kill you all!"

     A cloud of immediate unrest fell upon us all. People from other tables fell into silence, some into distressed whispering. The lump in my throat appeared again. 

     That's not why we're here, right? 

     The voice on the intercom continued, "Now, now. No need to be upset. Some people here can help you--preferably the psychic, who can view people's innocence, or the medic who can heal those struck by the Murderer's cruelty. The investigator can review clues and accuse people, too."

     "Is there a name for this game?" Charlie, a seemingly refined man who's next to the unrefined Austin, asked. I've heard that Austin never smiles.

     "Yeah, Flicker. And you, my dears, are the stars of the Murder House," The voice said casually. "Anywho- does this script have to be so long? I hope I don't bore you all to death already."

     To add to their words, the voice yawned. 

     "Pft. Like they have anything better to do than let a murderer into this place," Thomas scoffed, glaring at the ceiling. Spencer and some others nearby didn't bother to stifle their laughter. 

     "Shut up, would you? I can hear you." The announcer retaliated. "Besides, you guys can also just die and not to know how to... escape."

     "Theatrics," Dan sniffed.  "Tell us!"

     "Okayyyy, fine. When someone is killed, you will try to vote out the murderer. If you get voted out, regardless of murder or not, you'll experience a fate worse than..."

     All went dark in less than a second. I could only hear people scream or move; I could only see the people next to me who latch onto the table. I felt someone's hand --Liza's, probably-- grab my arm, causing me to wince.

     "Death."

     The intercom shut off as the lights flickered back on, revealing our grieved expressions. 

      It didn't take a genius to know that something was very, very wrong. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Two - Sweet Goodbyes

[Scarlett]

                                                                                                                                                      ~

     "Annnnywho," after a brief minute, that crackly voice returned. I couldn't bear to look around the table with how fast the mood sank. "Don't worry about death or possibly dying just yet. I've prepared you all a DELICIOUS meal of BLOODY steak for dinner! And a hefty, ketchup-filled Caesar salad, for all you veggie-lovers."

     I couldn't even bring myself to laugh at the voice's odd statements. Dinner? And who'd be ready to eat that? 

     ...What time even was it?

     "How long until dinner?" Dan pondered aloud, tapping his chin. He raised an eyebrow as he looked up at the ceiling. I followed his gaze, only to be met with a drab beige color. Ash and Liza nodded and murmured the same to themselves, too.

     "GREAT question, Daniel! Dinner will be in, ooh, let's check this little clock over here..." the voice fell silent for a few seconds. I shook my head at their bizarre antics. "Four hours. In the meantime, feast your eyes on the Mystery Snack fridge!" 

    And with that being said, I suddenly heard my stomach rumble, followed by a tinge of heat on my cheeks. Thomas raised an eyebrow and shot me a glance while I averted my gaze to Dan, who was still deep in thought. 

     "Or feel free to explore this AMAZING Murder House until I round you all up for that nice bloody meal!" Did this person have to be so excited about this game?

      As soon as the intercom shut off again, I breathed a sigh of relief. I finally gathered the courage to meet everyone's eyes. Fear, curiosity, shock-- the usual expression you'd have during a... killing game?

     "Uh, this has to be the most stupidest joke of all time," Spencer scoffed. "What kind of comedian jokes about a killing game?"

     "Do we even listen to that weird guy?" Thomas joined him, face void of his usual smile. His knuckles were white as he clutched his cup empty of pickle juice. "We should just go."

     "Go where?" Ash shook his head, pinching his nose bridge. "This is crazy. I haven't even seen an exit down here."

     Liza and I remained silent. She stared at the tablecloth with wide eyes and seemed to be sweating buckets.

     "Hey, everyone, let's calm down," Dan leaned forward. "We can stay as a group together while everything gets sorted out."

     "Smart guy," Spencer retorted, but he did nod in agreement. 

                                                                                                                                                                   ~

      It seemed Dan was our leader, seeing how he talked with other groups of people and gave us a plan on how to survive. His steely demeanor only rivaled Ash's, who would often check on us as a group to make sure morale was high (which was a given with Spencer and Thomas still goofing around). 

      Even as Charlie introduced himself to us with scowling Austin behind him, Spencer and Thomas were dancing nearby. My attention was torn. 

     "Anyway, I hope we can all get along," I caught a glimpse of his pearly white smile when he finished speaking before looking at the dancing duo. 

     "Of course, of course," Ash smiled back, awkwardly shaking hands with the man while just about everyone else looked at Thomas managing a poor handstand (and Dan, who was striding towards them). 

     I turned back towards Charlie, a hint of guilt nudging me as I gave him a simple wave. He appeared trustworthy-- maybe I should have paid attention to him instead. 

     To be fair, though, Austin's scowl was very menacing. 

     He waved back and peered over my shoulder as Dan practically dragged Thomas back to the group. Spencer, unsurprisingly, cackled as he rejoined us. 

     "Say hi to Charlie and Austin," Ash teased as Thomas dusted himself off. Thomas brushed off the comment by waving with his signature smug smirk. 

     "So, everyone's fine with exploring?" Charlie folded his arms as he observed our ragtag group.

     Everyone gave their approval, and soon we went on a tour. 

     We first visited the kitchen, walking past the less crowded tables and observing all of the materials there. 

     Like the intercom person said, there was a Smart Fridge. While Ash and Spencer poked around and pointed at the most basic items such as cutlery or even the stove, I peeked into the so-called "Mystery Snack" fridge. 

     My eyebrows furrowed the moment I saw a plastic container with my own name on it. I stood on my tip-toes to get the thing before squinting at what was inside. 

     The rumbling got louder. 

     ...Surely this was a coincidence. 

     I shut the fridge door, catching Liza recoil at the knives and picking up on some brief spat Spencer and Thomas were having before sitting at the marbled dinner table. 

     "Hungry?" Dan formed out of seemingly nowhere with that charming smile on his face, taking a seat next to me with his own snack. 

     "Yeah..." I tried to place my hands on my plastic container, confused about how my favorite snack, the oddly specific cookies and cream popcorn, got here. 

     My own gaze drifted to his. Inside were two large sausages wrapped some puffy pastry. "What's that?"

     He opened his container and blinked as he took a look. "Oh, this should be my favorite snack. It's just sausage rolls."

     Sausage rolls... "That sounds delicious. And, uh, is your name really Daniel?"

     "What? No. It's just Dan," he chuckled before raising one his sausage rolls. "Cheers!"

      I think I really like this man. 

     I smiled and raised a glass on the table. Perhaps things wouldn't be so bad after all. 

                                                                                                                                              ~
     Despite all of the tension that mean intercom person instilled, dinner was as loud as ever. 

     Our group managed to scout the kitchen, visit the upstairs area where Ash and I first met, and relax in the living room before dinner was served. Apparently, there was a basement somewhere; it would have to wait. 

     I found myself next to two unfamiliar faces, the woman to my left being Sabrina and the man next to me being Jacob. 

     "I hope you're doing better than I am," Sabrina sighed, looking at me. "I keep getting lost."

     "Really?" Jacob says before chewing on his salad. "There's only three floors, you know."

     "I know... but maybe it's because I'm scared."

     I watched as Jacob's eyes softened. "Oh."

     Jacob looked up at me, setting down his fork. "Scarlett, right? And how have you been doing?"

     I rubbed the back of my neck. "Uh, pretty good. I've been exploring with some of my friends."

     He smiled. I noticed the man had a bit of a baby face and green eyes. "That's good. I'm thinking of visiting the basement later."

     "No way," Sabrina wrinkled her nose. "God knows what's in there. You're a brave one."

     "What about the basement?" Charlie looked at us three, cutting his steak. 

     "I'm going to visit it later," Jacob answered, pushing his black glasses back up his nose. "I'm trying to learn about the area."

     "That's really smart," a lady with long, brown-hair and bangs clipped to her sides hummed.

     A smiley lady with a red headband glanced at us. "But don't tell me you're going alone?"

     "That's... actually what I was going to do," Jacob sheepishly muttered. 

     "You don't have to, you know," Dan perked up. "I'm going with Charlie and a few others to the basement. Isn't that right, Scarlett?"

     I cleared my throat, embarrassed by his cold call. "Yeah, yeah, that's right."

     "Then let me come, too!" Bangs Lady chirped. 

     We all spent a few more moment eating together, hearing some more unfamiliar names of people thrown around. To that intercom person's credit, the dinner was actually a pleasant experience, food-wise or other. One part of me didn't want to let go of this moment, because everyone was so kind and helpful and... alive.

     I got to put more names and facts to the faces around me. Bangs Lady was Eva, some sort of fashionista from a place I've never heard of before. Red Headband Woman was Anna, who was learning how to be a teacher. Austin had been friends with Charlie since the third grade. Our 'waitress' who came around to give us seconds was Coralie, an actual waitress in her hometown. A woman in a red dress named Colleen offered to do karaoke with us. 

     I just hoped that none of them would die. 

                                                                                                                                                ~
     "Wow, this basement stinks."

     "Who has the flashlight?"

     "Guys, I'm actually so scared right now."

     Dan shushed us all as the flashlight turned on, illuminating the charcoal grey staircase we were all traversing on.

     Spencer's many complaints were accompanied by the incessant creaking of the wood. "I'm jumping off if this breaks!"

     Thankfully, none of us did. We soon made it to the bottom as a group and stood in a circle. 

     "Let's get into trios," Ash suggested, surveying us all. No one bothered to disagree with him.

     "I'll go with Sabrina and JJ," Eva grinned, putting her arms on the two next to her. Jacob eyed Sabrina, who'd been roped into the whole thing by Eva. 

     "Okay then," Ash blinked, stepping backwards. 

     "I'll go with Austin and Dan," Charlie also grinned and raised his arms, but Austin parried one away. 

     Almost everyone ended up joining us in the basement, save for Coralie and Colleen, who would rescue us if there were any monsters. We could hear them singing upstairs.

     I rubbed my nose as more and more groups formed. When did I have so much snot?

     "Alright, I'll go with Liza and Scarlett," Ash stepped closer to us, and soon we were off. 

     ...We weren't off for long before I started sneezing. I could barely see a few feet ahead of me without blinking, causing Ash and Liza to stop multiple times to allow me to catch up to them. We even encountered Eva while investigating the seemingly barren basement, who offered me some tissues. 

     "You poor soul," Eva shook her head, taking out a small tissue package that was half-empty. "Here you go, Scarlett. You need this more than I do."

     I gave my thanks with a simple nod; my throat felt like sandpaper whenever I swallowed. 

    I tried to ignore Liza's burning stare as she listened to the encounter. We resumed walking afterwards, following her lead, only for us to reach the same rugged charcoal stairs from earlier. 

     "Sit down, please," Liza gestured to the staircase, talking to me.

     I complied, using yet another tissue from Eva. I only had two left, and my pockets were littered with tissue balls. 

     "Are you having trouble breathing?"

     I wheezed. "Gosh, yes."

     Without another word, the two took me upstairs. 

                                                                                                                                                  ~
     While the wheezing stopped, my runny nose didn't. Three trashcans were lined up in front of me, one full of normal trash and tissues. 

     "Poor thing," Colleen had stopped singing the moment she first heard me sneeze. Her and Coralie observed me like I was a rare scientific specimen-- or a pitiful one at that. 

    Coralie handed me yet another water bottle while Liza tried to search for medicine. 

     It turned out Liza was training to be a pediatric nurse, and while I wasn't a kid anymore, she could still help. And help she did, when she came back with grape-flavored antihistamine. 

     "Oh no," I frowned once I saw the purple liquid. I knew beggars couldn't be choosers, but cherry was better than this!

     "Please," Liza insisted. 

     For the greater good, I took it, guzzling the horrid and strong taste down with half a water bottle. 

     Coralie chuckled from the side. "There you go!"

    I almost flushed at the sheer amount of attention I was getting. Colleen and Coralie allowed me to take the couch and searched the house for the three trashcans. If Liza was as observant with me as she was with any sort of patient, there was no doubt she was getting that license. 

     Once the rest of the groups came upstairs, I tried my best to appear very healthy and very normal... despite the second trash can being half-full (or was it half-empty?). 

     "Oh my," Dan was almost startled to see my condition. "I take it you're not doing so well?"

     "I'm getting better," I attempted to grin as more and more people gathered around. 

     "Leave her alone, you all," Ash sighed, eyeing the crowd. "We'd all better get some rest..."

     "Right. I'm heading upstairs," Sabrina nodded with a tired smile, Jacob at her side. I guessed the basement wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. 
     
     "I'm going to get some milk first," Charlie chuckled. "You rest up too, alright Scarlett?"

    "Of course," I nodded before having my millionth sip of water. 

     As the minutes passed, more and more people went up the stairs. I remained on the couch while Liza, Thomas, Dan, and Ash all chattered in the kitchen. Soon I was no longer a spectacle, and while I was glad about that, I felt... melancholic. 

     There was no murder, there were no signs of a murderer, and yet everyone was apparently trapped with a murderer. 

     How?

     The word echoed in my mind for a few moments, even as I walked with her newfound friends upstairs, leaving the memories of tonight behind. 

     Liza, then Thomas, then Ash walked past me as I stood in front of a door with my name on it. They were tired, just like I was. They needed their rest, just like I did. 

     I couldn't bring myself to go inside without knowing everyone made it inside their rooms first. My eyes followed Dan as he walked past, murmuring something I didn't --I'd never-- make out.

     "Goodbye," the word was faint on my lips, barely making a sound as he opened his door and left me alone in the empty, cold hallway. 
  


    

Chapter Text

Chapter 3 - Under Mysterious Circumstances

[External - Xli Viwmwxergi]

[Dan - A Fool's Errand]

                                                                                                                                                         ~

     I missed a spot, didn't I?

     My feet plodded against the same creaky wooden stairs from earlier, each step causing my heartbeat to quicken. There had to be something down here-- there must. 

     I raised my lantern high, eyebrows furrowed as I cautiously stepped onto the dusty cement floor. 

     No one seemed to be following me, nor was there anyone else in the basement from what I could see. The barren floor spread out in front of me, wooden beams in the only standing object in sight. I wrinkled my nose at the pungent smell of mildew. 

     No wonder why that Scarlett had such a bad allergic reaction. I tried to wave the smell away before continuing on my way, my steps near silent. 

     My lantern shone in all directions, revealing chipped grey paint on the walls and more lovely sights. More beams, more cement. Oh, and a pipe to add to the scenery. Glad to know there was some sort of sewage system for the loo. 

     I steadied my breathing, considering the tip-off I received. The crumpled paper with that familiar cipher rested in my pocket, ready for use to shine a light on this horribly game. 

     Solitary, solitary... The settings for the game Flicker often held the information needed to expose their cruelty. I just needed to find a way...

     My comrades might berate me for this later on, but it'll all be worth it in the end. 

     I stilled my breathing as I traveled further and further through the basement, the stairs no longer in view behind me. No one will have to die. No one will have to die anymore if I succeed. 

     God, I need to succeed.

     After a few more minutes, I stood in front of the only room in the basement: the solitary confinement room. With my lantern in tow, I disregarded the fallen, rotting wooden door on the floor and did what no one else wanted to do. 

     My footfall was gentle, hitting the padded floor. I wrinkled my nose at the change of texture beneath my shoes and pressed forward, squinting around the room...

     On the left side, only off-white padded walls. The mildew reeked here. I moved my lantern more to my right. 

     Information... the tip-off promised there'd be information here. Where is--

     My eyes immediately widened as I saw the outline of a person.

     My heart was pricked with fear, the sensation forcing me to jolt and straighten up in terror. My heartbeat was louder than my staggered breathing. 

     Only a few words managed to enter my mind. 

     Everyone is asleep. 

     One step backward. 

     This can't be an ally.

     Another step backward. 

     I'm a fool. 

     I ran. 

     I ran, I ran, I ran. 

                                                                                                                                                                 ~

[External]

[The Murderer] 

     There was a knife, and there was a gun, and there were my own bloodied hands. Not from tonight, but from nights past. 

     I washed and washed and washed but even though no one would ever see it, I could feel it. There was no crimson tonight, but what did it matter?

     The unfamiliar liquid sprawling on my hands, seeping into my nails, digging into my skin amid the scent of iron... I didn't even go as far this time, and yet it remained. 

     It was the not the man's, but it remained. 

     "I'm not doing this," I said in my naivety, my hubris, thinking I had turned over a new leaf and would never see another's blood again. "I won't be your Murderer."

     Hah... I avoided looking at the hypocrite in the mirror. 

     Even a reluctant murderer was still a murderer. 

     The man-- what was his name? Charlie? -- the man was passed out, leaning against the door. I saw myself observe him, the way I stared down at his limp (but alive) body. 

     I couldn't bring myself to give him such a horrible death, even if one felt nothing for someone they barely knew. 

     So bloody guns, bloody knives, bloodied hands. They offered it all to me, had me use all of them before. 

     But screw it. 

     The toilet would do. 

                                                                                                                                                      ~
[External]

[Liza]

     "I swear to nothing, Thomas," I pinched my nose bridge, shutting my eyes as I repeated myself for the millionth time. Shame on me for nervous-sipping so much water throughout the day. "People do not take TEN minutes to use the bathroom in the middle of the night!"

     "Relax, Liza! I'm just saying that sometimes people's bodies don't tolerate salad the same way you do--"

     "Thomas!" 
      
      "Okay, okay, fine, bossy-pants. I'll go with you to check on him, okay?" he grinned sheepishly and nudged my shoulder. 

     With that, we left his room and headed down the dark hallway. Thomas led the way, raising his lantern as we descended down the staircase to the main floor. 

     "It's so... eerie," I remarked, the quiet both familiar yet uncomfortable as I quickened my pace. He really needed to slow down sometimes!

     "Sorry you didn't wait until morning then, Lizzy," Thomas jokingly scoffed, gesturing to the shut bathroom door with jazz hands and a bow.

     "You didn't have to come, Thomas."

     "Just knock on the door already."

     I quietly rapped my knuckles on the door. But considering Charlie was in there for several minutes already and he didn't even respond...

     My bladder was getting antsy. 

     "Charlie," my tone was urgent. I began doing the bladder dance, rotating in an anxious circle. "Charlie, you have to understand--"

     "Uh... you alright there, Liza?" Thomas raised an eyebrow, already approaching the door with his all-too-eager stride. "You want me to, oh, I dunno... break down the door or something?"

     "Thomas, no--"

     He rolled his eyes. "You know you want me to."

     "Let me try one more time," I murmured, pounding my fist into the hollow door. "Charlie!"

     "Mmm?" Thomas wiggled his eyebrows. 

     Forgive me, Charlie. I had no choice to accept. 

    I faltered and retreated a few feet away as this careless man pummeled the door, his technique refined from all of his ridiculous door-breaking schemes. I saw him position himself, even feeling the door before he shut his eyes and pushed. No wonder why he and Spencer got along so well. 

     BAM!

     The door flew open. I cringed as it hit the wall and went so far as to make a strenuously loud creak. 

     "Wow," he exhaled, before turning to face me, dusting off his hands with a silly smirk. "That was a particularly light door. Must've been cheap."

     Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. I said nothing before walking in and...

     I froze. 

     Was that... Charlie?

     "Tho...Thomas!" I cried out before immediately forcing the man's head out of the toilet. I trembled as spikes of fear pricked in me waves across my body. Gosh, no, he couldn't be...

     "Charlie! Can you hear me!"

     No response. My breathing intensified as I hastened to place him on his back. I readied my hand, resting its heel on the center of his chest. 

     Breathe in, breathe out, so that he could too. 

     It was time for me to do what any good nurse would do. 

     Except I've never been good at keeping rhythm. 

     "Sing Staying Alive for me, Thomas," I nervously commanded. 

     "A-Are you su--"

     "THOMAS!" 


     

Chapter Text

Chapter 4 - Dubious Morality

[External]

[????]

     You might have said I was bad, but was I really that bad?

    I mean, just think about it. You don’t really know these people, do you? You’re not in my shoes, so you just don’t understand why I’m so silly and carefree and joyous.

     But I don’t blame you. Any onlooker wouldn’t either. They are all just—

     “Regan! Are you monologuing again?!” my most beloved cousin Ben stormed into the room with his hands on his hips and his face twisted into the pout he’s had since he was three.

     “Shut up, Ben! Now I have to record it again!” 

     No one could get me more uptight than Mr. Dubious Morality here. One night he was whining about why killing was wrong, and the next?

      “Oh, and you got the job done, didn’t you?” I wiggled my eyebrows, looking him up and down. He was hideous in black, looking like some overgrown bite-your-ankles bed monster. And by all means, with that knife behind his back, he was. 

     For spies, at least.

     At this, he faltered. His gaze turned away from me and to the floor.

     Like I said— dubious morality. The man was torn between family values and anything not on the dark web (like the Teletubbies). 

     “…Yes.”

     “Good job!” I simply gave him a thumbs-up. His reaction was to simply fidget with his hands and drag his feet across the floor. 

      He gently set the knife down on the back weapons table, eyeing the murder weapon as if it wasn't his hand that threw it with the precision I knew he had. 

     “…Dan,” he murmured to himself.

      “Dan the man,” I agreed. Thank Flicker the annoying spy was dead now. Not my cousin's fault Dan wore impractical Doc Martens and couldn't dodge a knife. 

     Seeing Ben in his sorry state, I did what any good cousin would do and left him to his own devices so I could return to monitoring the game. My eyes were glued to the screen, watching an ear-splitting rendition of "Stayin' Alive" by Thomas himself while Liza unleashed her medical prowess through those tiny, meaty arms of hers.

      I really couldn’t believe our gracious Murderer, sticking people's heads in toilets rather than through knives.

     Poor Charlie, though. I wondered if he would still be the same attractive chap in a few hours. Am I right, chat?

     “Regan, can you please be quiet…” Ben walked back in the room with a casual white shirt and black sweatpants, still bearing the same sort of guilt that stuck with him like BO. Shame there's no deodorant to cover up crimes. 

     “Go to your own room, buddy—“

     Ring. Ring.

     I gulped, slowly closing my agape jaw as I turned to face my phone with its Nokia ringtone, unleashing its gorgeous microtonal tune. 

     “Why’s it Arabian—?”

     My face was inches from the screen. “Ben, shut up, it’s the Boss.”

    …Am I cooked, chat?

                                                                                                                                                   ~
[Scarlett]

     "The power generator turns back on. It's the next day," the intercom's voice blared throughout the house. Thankfully, they've seemed to have toned down the excitement ever since last night. 

     Still, I could barely get out of bed despite those words. Another dream had taken me tonight, and although was fleeting, the feeling of confinement stuck with me. Imprisonment, as if I was in solitude.

     While the antihistamine got rid of my terrible allergies, it could not get rid of the unease that inherently came from living with a murderer. Or rather, being trapped with one. 

     The night passed. Our first night was gone, and yet we were still here. How could that be?

     Anything could have happened. I needed to see each and every person, to check whether or not they were okay--

     Eugh. My hand flew up to nurse my head as the room spun around me, colors like sparks of fire shooting into my vision as I blinked several times. I'd have to check in with Liza about that, too. 

     I trudged towards the doorway, ignoring my rooms many nooks and crannies as I opened the door. I half-expected to see Thomas doing cartwheels over the floor or Liza scolding him or Ash and Dan asking me how I was. 

     My eyes fell onto the floor. The same old floor Ash and I walked on last morning. And hopefully we won't have to see it again... oh?

     I caught sight of shoes, red ones, with short, stubby heels in front of me. What the...

     That wasn't Liza, or Thomas, or Dan, and certainly not Ash. 

     "Good... Good day," I slowly raised my head, gulping as I met eyes with none other than Colleen. 

     She responded with much more casualness, a lilt in her tone. "Good morning to you too, sleepyhead."

     "Yep! So, uh, why were you at my door?" I formed a rigid, awkward smile. 

     "Oh, darling, I have no time to explain out here in the open. Please come with me," Colleen took my hands into her incredibly soft ones, her eyes pleading and genuine. 

     "Oh, yeah, of course," I nodded as she let go my hands. I attempted to straighten out my shirt's wrinkles, desiring to look just as put-together as she was. 

     She shot me a bright smile, not one hair out of place, before turning around and heading to the end of the corridor, stopping once we got to a room with the appropriate name plate of 'Colleen'. 

     Hopefully she's not the Murderer. Heh. 

     As we entered her room, I had only one thought in my mind:

     Ohgosh,whatifshereallyistheMurderer--

     "I'm the Psychic," her back was turned to me as she raised a crystal orb --or, well, a spherical computer screen-- with a pink keyboard attached to it. "Not that I'm an actual diviner, thank you."

     The Psychic. What was that role for again? 

     "That's pretty cool," I stepped forward, observing the odd contraption. "What did it say?"

    "Well... you're innocent," she whirled around oh-so gracefully and beamed again. "So I'm wondering if we could work together."

     My mouth went dry and my mind went blank.

     But Colleen was innocent, just like me, so it was a natural deal, right?

     "Yeah, no, that's great. Thanks, Colleen."

     "Of course, darling," she nodded, combing her fingers through her hair as she studied my face. "You seem very tired... have a seat on the bed."

     I did as she said and sat down, falling into silence as I looked down at my fingers. I still had all ten.

     "Do you have any suspicions?" she continued talking, and although I thought she was awesome, I really wanted her to let me think. 

     "Not really," I shrugged. "You?"

     "I don't want to point fingers," her tone was velvety as her gaze drifted down to me looking at my fingers. "But my eyes are on Austin and Sabrina."

     "Austin and Sabrina?" I immediately raised my head. "And why is that?"

     "You can call it a gut feeling for Sabrina, but I find Austin to be so... quiet. He lingers around Charlie as if he's trying to piggyback off of him," Colleen rested her chin on her first, taking a seat next to me. I noticed a mirror where she once stood, a set of drawers under it. 

     "Well, they were friends since elementary," I countered, meeting her gaze once again. 

     "I know, but he could stand to speak for once," she murmured, her lips contorted in a muted frown. 

     "Well, we'll just keep an eye out for him," I decided to end it there, not wanting conflict and wanting breakfast instead. I stood up stiffly.  "You have a good morning, alright, Colleen?"

     "Ah, of course," she looked down at the off-white carpet below us. "Thank you for listening, Scarlett. I hope to get to know you better."

     "Same to you, Colleen."

     I supposed there was nothing wrong with having a new ally-- and the Psychic, nonetheless!

                                                                                                                                                               ~
     All of us were gathered around at the table, hacking at our breakfasts of sunny side up and scrambled eggs or waffles. I poked at the face Ash put on my waffle, the chocolate syrup smile a certain work of art.

     "How was everyone's sleep last night?" Ash rubbed his eyes before surveying the quiet at the long table. 

     "Bad."

     "Meh."

     "The bathroom is so scary at night!"
     
     At the mention of the bathroom, I noticed Liza freeze up. Her eyes widened as she immediately locked eyes with Thomas and Charlie. 

     Looked the other two didn't have a great sleep either. 

     "About that," Charlie slowly began. "I... have something to share."

     "Thanks SO much for the reminder, Charlie!" Gosh, no. I slammed my hands over my ears. The squeaky intercom was back again. "Alright... please hold still and stay in your seats while I find this pesky little.. Ohhhhkey dokey! 'The medic has saved Charlie. The targeted player stays in the— wow, my contacts are dirty — in the game. The investigator accused Sabrina last night.'

     "The what?" Sabrina went ghostly pale as she gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles right as Charlie continued. 

     "The Murderer attempted to, erm, stuff my head into a toilet last night," Charlie shook his head at just how bizarre that was, and yet, that bizarre statement made my heartbeat just a little faster. 

     The table fell into silence. 

     "Yes," Thomas nodded. "And I'm why the bathroom door is probably broken."

     "Has anyone seen Dan?" Colleen hesitantly asked, right as the table descended into chaos. 

     "Somebody take notes!"

    "What if Dan's the Murderer?!"

     "We're all going to dieee!"

     "Quiet!" Charlie shouted over the panic. "Here's what we'll do. I'll have someone interview me, we'll send a group to get Dan from his room --that sleepyhead--, and then we'll discuss who the Murderer is. Everyone clear?"

     My jaw went slack. The man was a natural born leader or something. 

     "When I grow up, I want to be him," Thomas muttered to Spencer. 

                                                                                                                                              ~
     Dan wasn't in his room.

     Dan wasn't anywhere. 

     "Okay..." Thomas scratched his chin. "Maybe he's chilling in the basement!"

     "It's the only place we haven't tried," Liza sighed, rubbing her shoulder. "I got to say, I'm concerned about him."

     "We all are," Ash shook his head, his eyes vacant. "Let's get going."

     I said nothing as we walked by all the familiar, alive people on the main floor. Anxious chatter was spread about, whether it be from those lounging in the living room, cleaning the dishes in the kitchen, or simply idling near the eerie clown art on the wall. 

      Why would Dan even be in the basement? 

     Before we left, Liza had me take another dose of the putrid grape-flavored antihistamine and gave me a mask (from her room, apparently). 

      “If you feel uncomfortable at all,” she sternly told me with her low, gentle voice. “You go straight back upstairs, alright? You don't even need to tell us.”

     Once we began our trek downstairs, Thomas immediately commented on the stench. "So, I'm not the only one who agrees it smells a little more disgusting than usual down here?"

     "The mold must have multiplied overnight," Spencer scoffed. He went ahead of us, raising the lantern.

      “Oh, Danny!” Thomas shouted once we reached the bottom. “They’re serving a mean sunny side up upstairs!”

     His voice echoed throughout the large area, even more so as he cupped his hands around his mouth and repeated his call.

     “Perhaps he really is the Murderer…” Ash groaned as we progressed deeper into the basement.

      “Um, what’s that smell?” Liza’s expression switched to fear, her eyebrows scrunched and her lips pursed as she looked ahead, into the darkness. Amid the mildew and dust was the faint smell of something... rotten.

     “That’s not mold, is it?” Spencer asked, squinting and facing forward with Liza. 

      Liza took one step, then two, and then she went ahead of us, pressing towards the stench of rotting food. I felt a tingling sensation in my throat and rubbed the front of my neck.

      Perhaps I should have gone back upstairs, but there were more pressing matters on our hands.

     Dan. That smell. Was he a secret mad scientist?

      “A room?” Thomas’s confused tone snapped me out of my thoughts. I lifted my gaze to a room with the remnants of a door in front of it.

     The stench rolled over us like a tidal wave, unrelenting and unmerciful. I took several steps back to keep my nose sane.

     “Go inside,” Spencer nudged Thomas. “I’m not going alone in there.”

     “It’s padded inside,” Ash remarked as Spencer and Thomas entered, the lantern illuminating the right wall.

     “Stay here,” Liza told me, her hand on my shoulder for a moment before she cautiously entered, Ash at her back.

     And as I stood outside, I hoped that Dan would surprise me. That he’d poke my shoulder from behind and say good morning and offer me a sausage roll.

    All I got was a scream.

     Several of them.

     My heart sank.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 - Something Unto Death 

[Scarlett - Alc qmklx e qer lezi xs hmi?]

                                                                                                                                                         ~
     I said nothing upon the body's retrieval that morning. 

     In the living room was a dead man retrieved from the padded room -- solitary confinement, Charlie had said with a face as pale as snow --, and he was a shell of himself. 

     "There's an incision on his back," Liza remarked as Colleen gently positioned Dan... no, his corpse, onto his chest.

     His black shirt was frayed where an open, red wound was. It was a mere slit, and yet I couldn't bring myself to look as Liza talked through her analysis with Charlie and a few others.

     Why Dan? Why did he have to die?

     Why did anybody? 

     Still, I supposed questions were futile. The man wasn't here anymore. I could only pray he was somewhere better. 

     I remained on the couch where I had laid just a day before. Just a few feet away was the kitchen where Dan and I talked about sausage rolls. 

     I wasn't hungry anymore. 

     "This is t-terrible," Sabrina moaned beside me, dabbing at her red eyes with a tissue. Her body shivered with every breath she took. "He died such a horrible death..."

     "If you think that's bad, just think about what that Murderer might do next," Jacob sighed, hunched over to my right as he shook his head in disbelief. 

     "Gosh," was all I could quietly muster. "We need to find out who did this."

     Right after I said that, we all heard the static of the intercom. 

     Not now. Not when Dan was dead. Not ever. And yet, the intercom voice carried on like usual. 

     "Good day, sleepyheads!" they tried to imitate a British accent-- it was the worst one I've ever heard. It sounded like they were eating ten marshmallows at once and not at all like Dan's graceful and upbeat tone. "It looks like a body has been discovered!"

     Nobody bothered to retort. Liza and Charlie and Colleen continued their discussion, all crouched down to observe the body while a grim Spencer and disturbed Thomas stood off to the side. 

     "Dan died of mysterious circumstances. He was backstabbed and left to die alone in the basement. Oh, the high school drama!" the voice cheerily chirped before tapping their microphone, emitting a pain-inducing squeaky noise. 

     When even then no one cared to throw them a nasty remark or flat comment, they continued in a murmur. "Sheesh. Tough crowd, huh? Well, sucks to be you guys, so I'm giving you all a few hours to frolic and play and have some fun before dinner. And after dinner, you all get to decide who the Murderer is! Have fun, my dears--!"

    "Wait!" Colleen interrupted. "What evidence do we have?!"

     "What does 'mysterious circumstances' mean?" Charlie added. 

     "Go to heck!" Spencer jeered.

    "Didn't I say you all could frolic and play and have some fun before dinner?! Stop asking so much of me!" and with that, the pesky intercom shut off. 

     But with Dan's corpse so near to us all, doing so felt impossible. 

     There was a burden on my heart, and I wondered how heavy it would become.

                                                                                                                                         ~
[External]

[Coralie]

     This was the tensest game of Uno I'd ever played, and not because of how Spencer and Sabrina were fighting with plus four's and reverses and daring each other to beatbox if the other lost. I never knew people could get so heated over a simple card game. 

     The tenseness after witnessing a dead body, a lot of us for the first time, stung everyone's hearts with both fear and grief. It was a miracle that Charlie made it out alive-- I was not sure how morale would fare if there were two bodies in one night. Most of the afternoon was filled with mourning expressions and acts of mercy as Dan was laid to rest in his room. 

     Apparently, it disappeared soon after. Most likely by that foul Intercom Guy. 

     I sighed as Spencer told me to take another four cards. How many did I have now? Sixteen?

     "You know, guys, I think I might sit the next one out," I declared as Sabrina kindly handed me more cards. 

     "Aww, alright," Anna, our 'cheat checker' and turn-keeper replied, forming a joking frown on her face. "But before you go... Sabrina?'

     "Uno!" she cheered as she placed down her penultimate yellow card. 

     While I understood everyone wanted to keep their minds off of Dan, it was what truly mattered at the moment. I was eager to find out just who would've done such a thing.

    Mysterious circumstances my foot. If it wasn't the Murderer, then who would've done such a thing?

     There was no motive, no weapon, no nothing. It stirred my heart with both anxiety and rage. 

     "Noo!" Spencer wailed as Sabrina, who was previously on a terrible losing streak, beat him out. She simply smirked as Spencer cleared his throat, ready to fulfill his end of the deal. 

     "And here is Spencer," Sabrina called out to the spectators, namely Ash and a zoned-out Scarlett. The poor girl had suffered with those allergies and with having a supposed friend dead. "Ready to beatbox 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!'"

     She seemed proud of herself. I didn't resist my smile as I stood up, ready to take my leave. I tapped Anna's shoulder. 

     "Oh, yeah?" she turned away from the scene, still dampened by grief regardless of how amusing it seemed. 

     "I'm going to take my leave," I explained. "Going to go upstairs and take a nap in my room. Don't wake me."

     "Go right ahead, then," she smiled at me, brushing some of her black hair away from her reddish-brown skin. "I'm here if you need anything."

     I nodded, showing my thanks before I headed for the staircase upstairs. 

     I was sure no one wanted to go to back to the basement today. Not if they wanted to throw up their rather bland dinner (aside from the desserts, of course). 

     As I creeped back upstairs, I heard some commotion. An unfamiliar voice -- low, scratchy, but feminine -- clashed with a calm and masculine one. Once I made it to the floor, I noticed an open door with light filtering through it. 

     Wasn't everyone downstairs already? Curiosity tugged on my mind, commanding me to proceed forward and eavesdrop. I snuck towards the wall and stood just far enough from the doorframe to avoid getting caught. 

     "Well, Jordyn, honesty is always the best policy--"

     "Shut your trap, Matt! Do you want to survive here or not?!"

     "We don't know where here is, Jordyn. And mind you, I'm starving. Even bitter food tastes sweet to the hungry--"

     "Well, fine! I'll get you some food when dinner's not FULL of people! Just quiet down so I can think of a plan!"

     "You really shouldn't make this so hard for yourself, Jord--"

     "I said: quiet!"

     Jordyn? Matt? How haven't we heard of them before? Their doors should have nameplates on them...

     While the two looked away from the corridor (truth be told, they seemed to be too absentminded for them to be hiding away for this long), I snuck around to the door and discovered they were hiding out in Scarlett's room. Did they have no room of their own? Who were they, really? Could they have been behind Dan's murder--

     I felt someone's hands slam onto my shoulders. "What're you doing here?"

     It was the gruff lady, Jordyn's, voice. I flinched, my hand twitching as I saw the man, Matt, walk out, too. 

     "I told you this would happen eventually, Jordyn," he sighed, closing the door in his wake. "Now let that person go."

     "Fine," she rolled her eyes, removing her hands from my now aching shoulders. She stepped back, allowing me the chance to turn around and introduce -- or rather explain -- myself. 

      "Hey, uh, I'm Coralie," I smiled sheepishly. "Don't mind me being here. I'll just go now--"

     "Wait," Matt interrupted, his warm caramel face bearing a gentle expression. “Will you promise to not tell anyone about us?”

     “Finally, he says something smart,” Jordyn snorted, albeit with a strange softness in her eyes. She stuffed her hands into her blue overalls after dusting off her yellow plaid jacket. 

     After a brief pause, I nodded. “Of course. But… let’s all get acquainted first.”

     “Do we have to?” Jordyn’s eyes flick to Matt. “We’re compromising more than necessary here…”

     “How do we know you’ll keep your word?” Matt crossed his arms, a slight frown on his face.

      “Um, Scout’s Honor?”

      Matt glanced at Jordyn, who scoffed and spoke. “Alright. But if we get any word that you told anybody—“

      “Don’t worry, I’m super reliable,” I interjected. “And if you hear me tell anyone you can steal my snacks.

     “We’ll just… we’ll just take your snacks,” Matt replied with a sheepish smile. “Not steal.”

     Jordyn smirked and nudged him. “Yep. Not steal. Come inside, uh…”

      “Coralie,” I gave her a gracious smile as I followed her into Scarlett’s room.

     “What a lovely name,” Matt commented as we all sat on the floor.  “I’m Matt, if you didn't know.” 
     
      “Jordyn, if you didn’t know,” Jordyn mimicked him. “Just Jo is fine, though.”
 
     “We’re cousins,” the duo chimed in unison.

     “Wow, you know your cousins?” I joked. I supposed it would be better to have a family member with you in a place like this… or maybe even worse.

     “We’re almost like twins,” Matt grinned. Now it was his turn to nudge Jordyn.

     “Well then,” their positivity and charm was infectious. “What role are you two?”

     “Um… we’re survivors. And you?” Jordyn answered first.

     I smiled as warmly as I could. “Me too. I’m a Survivor.”

     “Okey dokey,” Matt nodded, his black cap almost falling over his eyes. “How’s life been ever since you got here?”

     His tone was ever so light, like a therapist’s. I shoved the comparison out of my mind the moment it came in. 

     “Meh,” I flipped my hand over a few times. “It’s been alright, but uh… last night we had our first murder.”

      “Oh,” Matt stiffened. “I’m… sorry to hear that. Who was it?"

     Jordyn also went silent, her expression morphing into a more contemplative one as her gaze fell on me. 

     "You wouldn't know him," I began. "But his name was Dan. Had a British accent. Was a great leader. Died in the same basement he led some people into the night before."

     "Wow," Jordyn sighed, crossing her arms. "I'm... sorry you had to witness that, Coralie. 

     "Hey, I wasn't the one dying," I raised my hands. 

     At this, the conversation lulled. The two seemed burdened by the mere mention of death, which was understandable. 

     To ease their minds, I steered the conversation away from such a bleary thing. "So... what were you two talking about before I got here?"

                                                                                                                                                        ~
     As our chatting progressed, I deduced that these two were unlikely to have killed Dan. Their genuineness in both body language and tone when reacting to the mere presence of a basement told me what I needed to know. Perhaps the two really were just scared survivors, which seemed the most fitting.

     Jordyn and Matt used to live together in a rundown town somewhere. While Matt got into theology and became a Catholic chaplain who was studying psychology at some university, Jordyn stayed behind to run the family's auto-repair service to keep her many siblings' education afloat. 

     I truly wanted to know more about them. What drew Matt to such heartfelt topics? How did Jordyn feel about having to provide for her large family?

     But before I could continue to press them with questions and icebreakers, I heard the dreaded call of the intercom. 

     "Hello, everybody! Can you guess what time it is?!" they began, their voice disgustingly (and disturbingly) peppy. "WELL? You're all not guessing?"

    I kept my silence, as did Jordyn and Matt. I surveyed the room in search of a potential camera, a chill running down my spine as I discovered a tiny one in the corner where the bed was. 

     Wow. Why even watch us? What was so enjoyable about this?

     "Voting time, ya dumbos!" the intercom voice was akin to that one preppy and pushy friend everyone must have had. "Hope it's not unanimous!"

     At that, Jordyn's stomach growled. She frowned and eyed Matt, a growing red tinge on her face, shoving her hands in front of her stomach as the intercom went silent. Great timing there, Intercom Guy.

     I pretended to not notice, and I was quite sure Matt did the same. 

     "Here, let me help you two out," I said once a silent minute passed. "I can deliver the food upstairs once the lights are out or when everyone is distracted. I was a waitress back where I lived, I can be one now."

     "...Your charity is much appreciated," Matt answered, eyeing his now silent cousin. Hunger truly changed people. 

     "Thanks," Jordyn mumbled. "And if they have cookies, take one for yourself... and for me."

      Once I came back to the main floor, I was appalled to see everyone scattered about with tablets in their hands. Perhaps those were the voting devices?

     No one spoke as I snuck by, grabbing one from the dinner table as my own dinner, some tomato soup with pecan cookies resembling porcupines (oh my, if they still had some I'd definitely give them to Jordyn), swelling in my stomach as I did so.

     I had somehow missed the thick of the discussion. I decided to ask Charlie for his input, seeing how much of a leader he was. 

     I gently tapped his shoulder, the act causing his head to shoot up. He immediately relaxed once he recognized me and smiled. "Oh, hello, Coralie. Are you alright?"

     "Yeah. Sorry for missing the discussion; I fell asleep until that intercom rudely woke me up,” the lie rolled smoothly off my lips. 

     "Ah, that's alright. I'll have someone get you next time."

     "Thank you. And, um, can you catch me up on what happened?"

     "Ah, well, there's been a split. While the Investigator has accused Sabrina, most of us believe it's Anna."

     ...Anna? The same smiling optimist, with blood on her hands?

     Why didn't I see it?

     "And why's that?" I pressed him. 

     "Ten seconds to vote!!" the intercom voice squeaked excitedly. "Vote, vote, vote! Or else I'm voting for you!"

     I groaned, clicking Anna's face on my tablet before looking back up at Charlie. 

     He mustered a sigh. "But there's something I brought up to counter that argument. 'Mysterious circumstances', we all agreed at first, did not imply the Murderer did it. I almost ruled it as a suicide, but Liza debunked that when she pointed out the wound's position."

     "Oh?"

     "It was from the back, presumably a stab wound. Someone had to have done it, and so we all decided it was the Murderer. And then we decided that that Murderer was Anna."

     "Motive?" I raised my eyebrows. Perhaps everyone wanted to believe it was the Murderer lest it be a crazed innocent working with them or whatnot. 

     "We don't know," for once, Charlie's faced appeared to sag. "We don't even have the proper technology or evidence. Evidence is only reserved for the Investigator, and no one's coming out as one."

     "I'm sorry to hear that," I shook my head. So, Charlie wasn't the Investigator then. How mysterious. 

     "We'll get through it," he formed a weak smile. "We hope that our piecing together was enough. We have to hope that it was Anna who went down to the basement, Anna who would do such a horrible thing..."

     It was then I comprehended how exhausted he was. His strong facade broke for just one second, his eyes filled with desperation as he spoke. "But that hope is also twisted. Why hope that someone is a Murderer for the sake of being right?"

     "Thank you, thank you!" the intercom voice bellowed. "The votes are in, everyone!! And guess what? Anna has the most votes!"

     All fell silent once more, save for Anna, who sank to her knees and sobbed. Her choked noises filled the air and dampened the already somber mood. I felt pangs of guilt poke at my heart like tiny needles as she hid her face from the crowd. Some people had mercy on the woman and kneeled next to her, comforting her. 

     "The player will now be removed from the Murder House," they announced, before continuing in a quieter voice. "Ooh, I love that name. Murder House... oh Flicker, I am truly very smart."

     Scarlett, Sabrina, Ash and even Thomas. What kind souls, unlike that evil intercom voice. I was no judge, but such joy at the expense of others was as evil as it got. 

     "And also guess what?" that twisted, putrid, wretched voice added as the lights flickered. I heard something creak open, akin to a trapdoor, and what was presumably Anna's shrieks as she was sent below us. 

     When the lights came back on, she was gone, but the voice remained. "You all were wrong! The Murderer is still on the loose."

     Was this truly a fate worse than death?
    

Chapter Text

Chapter 6 - Events Before Sudden Disaster 

[External]

[Charlie]

     Tonight was a disaster. Under my guidance, I led us all to vote for Anna. 

     Anna, who was innocent. Anna, who we might never see again. 

    "Stop beating yourself up about it," Austin nudged me, his tone gruff. "Everyone makes mistakes, Charlie."

     While I appreciated his words, he didn't understand how impactful this faulty decision was.

     Every step I took, every breath I'd take would contribute to the outcome of this game and of its survivors. 

     My comrade Dan was already dead; the mission would've been completely over before it began if it weren't for Liza's quick thinking and Thomas' horrible singing. 

     "I know," I raked my fingers through my black hair. "If I hadn't been possibly murdered the same night, I bet people would have to vote me next."

     Austin said nothing. He knew me too well to offer sympathy. 

     My first mistake in this game. Everyone made mistakes, and yet mine ran me through a toilet. 

     There was no distracting me from it. The only entertainment my room, which Austin was staying in, offered were the visually grotesque tapes of old Flicker episodes. 

     I already knew all about them. I threw them all out before Austin came in-- I didn't want my best friend to be subject to the same.

     My best friend, the Investigator. 

     "Any evidence tonight?" I slowly turned my head to face him, still tasting toilet water in my throat. 

     "Not yet..." the man was lost for what to do. He told me he accused Sabrina because she seemed too dramatic. "I usually get the photos and whatever delivered to my room. I hate how they won't let me look at those cameras."

     "They want us to fail, Austin," I lowered my voice. That was how it had always been. Many might have outnumbered the Murderer, but it was always fun to root for the underdog. 

     Those viewers... I averted my eyes from the very camera in my own room. They rooted for that Murderer at the expense of all of us. 

     If I couldn't stop Flicker now, then when?

     As soon as I thought that I heard a knock on the door. 

     Austin flinched as he heard it, his eyes immediately snapping back to mine before I stood up to open the door with my lantern in tow. 

     My body was tense I did so. Who could it be at this hour?

     "Matt, where is Co... Gah!" my lantern's warm glow caused whoever this was to stagger backwards while she spoke, shutting her eyes. 

     Who... was this? I squinted my eyes as I stepped closer to her. Her pilot cap fell over her face as she continued backing up. She had long brunette hair and blue overalls. 

     This was no player I knew. I dove straight into questioning. "Who are you?" 

     She hurriedly grabbed her hat and continued to hide her face. "Um... it's me! Cora... -- great, what was her name? -- Coralie!"

     Coralie? I didn't know she brought an extra pair of clothes. Or changed her hair color. Or got taller. 

     Who she did look like, however, was a person on Flicker's Wanted list. As for why, I didn't know. 

     "Your voice got awfully low in such a short amount of time," I stepped even closer, raising my lantern higher. My tone was coaxing as I continued to question her. "Why don't you come in? It's not too fun in the dark."

     "No, no, I'm good," she shrunk further into her plaid jacket. Was that her stomach rumbling? "Just gonna go back to my room anyways, you know?"

     "...Oh no, it's fine," I frowned in confusion. Did 'Coralie' get hungry easily? Did she even have a steady access to food? Was she a friend or a foe? "I have some cookies in my room that you can have."

     She went silent. 

     I decided to play into her act. "I saw you dig into quite a bit of them. I take it you really like those cute little things?"

     She still didn't respond. 

     "Especially the chocolate sprinkles as the little spikes--"

     "Yeah, sure, I'll come inside," she answered, a little too quickly for it to be natural. She pushed past me and into my room. 

     She flinched the moment she saw Austin, thinking it was me. Her hat fell from her hands. "How'd you get here so quickly?!"

     We did look similar, to be fair. Same hair, almost the same simple outfits... he looked like an angrier me. I stood behind her and tapped her shoulder. "That would be Austin, my friend."

     "Right, Austin," she scrambled to get the hat while Austin awkwardly watched. "Yep. Great."

     I noted her eccentric behavior in my head while I retrieved the plastic bag full of cookies from dinner. I moved them close to my lantern, inspecting their little brown dots for eyes and the way chocolate sprinkles stood along their backs. 

     I had to admit, they were delicious. I turned around and handed them to Coralie, who once again covered her face with her hat.

    "How're you going to eat with that on?" I joked as she freed a hand to grab the cookies. My mind continued to drift to the intel I took from Flicker. That wanted list. I knew she looked familiar, yet I was hesitant to act on it just yet. 

     "Don't even worry about it," she said, with that voice that so unlike Coralie's. She swatted my hand away once I tried to move her hat away. 

     "Who are you, really?" Austin finally spoke. He stood up, standing behind her. "Ain't no way you're Coralie."

     "I so am!" 'Coralie's' voice quivered as her head turned to the doorway, attempting to step forward. "Thanks for the cookies! I'll just go eat them in my roo--"

     She faceplanted before our eyes, tripping over Austin's foot. I folded my arms and guarded the closed door. 

     "Obviously you're not Coralie," I sighed, offering her a hand. "Your voice, your hair, and your clothes are different. Did you really think you'd get away with that?"

     She grumbled and stood up by herself, reaching for the plastic bag of cookies. "Worth a shot. Just so happened to find you smart guys."

     "What's your real name?" Austin scoffed, joining my side. He kept an eye on her hands, his glare imposing as she dusted herself off and put her hat back on her head and revealing her face. 

     "I'm not telling you guys," she sniffed. 

     What was the name of that wanted woman? Jolene... Josephine... 

     Jordyn. Could it really be her? 

     "Then allow me to guess," I looked her dead in the eye. "It's Jordyn, isn't it?"

      Her free hand trembled. She clenched it immediately. "I...you... no, you're wrong."

     "Jordyn," I lowered my voice, not wanting the camera to pick on my voice. "Please relax. We're not here to hurt you. Like you, we're also innocent."

     I had no idea what her role was, what she was doing here. But if she provided anything on this wretched game then endangering my safety would be worth it. 

     "Uh..." her expression morphed into both confusion and hesitancy. "Well, I'm also a survivor... But how do I know if I can trust you two?"

     "Well, Charlie was attacked last night and got his head stuffed in a toilet. I'm the Investigator, who does not stuff heads into toilets," Austin interjected with crossed arms. 

     "Oh, uh, alright," she looked at the carpet beneath us, studying it intensively. "I'll just... eat here and be on my way, then."

     I could tell she was still caught off-guard by my guess as she continued. "Just don't answer the door if anyone knocks, okay?"

     But alas, the door creaked open behind us all. 

     "Jordyn?"

                                                                                                                                                               ~

[External]

[The Murderer]

     I had to take matters in my own hands tonight. 

     Those cursed viewers were rooting for another murder while the lights were out, and they didn't care whether a death was by Flicker's hands or mine.

     Flicker... or rather those managing it. Those disgusting animals, pitting me against everyone else. Whoever died tonight would be lucky it wasn't at their hands. 

     I pushed the thought of Dan aside. That tiny, yet fatal stab. The fact he was bound with ropes in a lone chair in that padded room, gagged, when nothing but a corpse remained the next morning.

     Those sadistic freaks. 

     Unlike them, my intentions were to be quick, easy, and painless. No ropes or gagging or mockery of the dead. 

     I didn't care about the many serrated knives in the kitchen, or the instruction manual on how to light something (rather, someone) on fire with materials in the kitchen cupboards. 

     Unlike them, I was merciful. 

     But it was hard to kill at this hour, at least for me. There were no hidden alleyways, no way to use poison without getting caught, no person willing to die...

     I crept upstairs. With no target out and about right now, I did the only thing I could do: help someone to be freed of this game forever. 

     So many names on the doors, so many people to choose from...

     Their lives were in my hands.

     I stopped in front of the door of someone who would never wake up again. 

                                                                                                                                                        ~
[External]

[Charlie]

     I whirled around to face this newcomer. Could this be the Matt Jordyn was talking about?

     He froze once I met his eyes. His skin grew pale as he gulped and cleared his throat. 

     "God, no," Jordyn shut her eyes, almost praying as she pinched her nose bridge. "You've got to be kidding."

     "J-Jordyn, ah..." the man stammered, his eyes stuck on my presumably unfamiliar face. I gently took his wrist to stop him from leaving.

     How did they know each other? I had never heard of this 'Matt' before...

     Seeing us all in such a perplexing situation, Jordyn took the initiative to dash forward and slam me against the side of the wall in the process. I groaned as my back hit the wall and squeezed all the air out of me. 

    "Austin," I wheezed as he dove forward. 

     "Let's go, cousin!" she shouted, grabbing his hand before fleeing without a second thought, shutting the door right in Austin's face. 

     Thankfully, he stopped short while I continued to catch my breath. He offered me a hand as I slowly stood up, trying to ignore the sickening dizzy feeling in my head.  

     She still had the cookies with her, too...

                                                                                                                                                       ~
[External]

[Colleen - The Notetaking]

      Hm. How interesting.

     I stared at the spherical screen with its keyboard before me before turning it off and tucking it under the bed. 

      Against all odds, that grumpy man, Austin, was actually innocent. And to think I misdirected poor Scarlett into being suspicious of him!

     I eyed my notebook with interest. So far, Charlie, Scarlett, and Austin were all innocent... I wondered who had those special roles the intercom voice mentioned?
     
     Regardless, it was time for my player review. After all, somebody had to keep notes around here!

     Dan - Good (Deceased)

     That poor soul... My heart ached, recalling the atmosphere in his room where we laid him to rest. Both his body and tissue box went missing once the makeshift funeral was over. 

     Anna - Good (Voted)

     Scarlett - Good

     Charlie - Good

     Austin - Good

     Ash- ??? (probably good)

     Liza- ??? 

     She was extremely helpful when it came to analyzing the body... Perhaps suspiciously so. But would such a demure girl kill Dan in such a horrible way?

     Thomas- ??? (probably good)

     Jacob- no idea

     Sabrina- probably good, will check her next round

     Me - Psychic

     Spencer- no idea

     Coralie -  ??? (probably good)

     She seemed like such a sweet girl! I hoped to talk with her some more. 

     After re-reading through my notes, I felt the sweet sensation of peace tug at my heart. 

     Good work, me. 

     I'd make sure to show this to Scarlett tomorrow. What a funny girl she was!

     With my worry about Austin about of the way, I could now narrow down the suspects and hopefully offer more accurate information to all.

     Yes, yes... We could do this! 

     With all of us together, surely, we couldn't lose. My heart swelled with joy as I thought of how sweet victory would be, further deepening my resolve. 

     I leaned into the topic of potential suspects. Despite how large the pool of suspects was, my eyes were on Jacob and Spencer especially. 

     Jacob seemed harmless enough, but like Austin, he didn't talk too much and had an odd habit of slinking away during social events, only reappearing with Sabrina at his side.

     While I understood Spencer to be Thomas' right-hand man for comic relief, his funny demeanor could always be a facade that masked a madman. 

     I wouldn't be very surprised if that were the case. 

     I made sure to write my thoughts down too before setting my notebook aside and turning off my light. It was reassuring to have something from home, even if it was just a tiny notebook.

     "My work is done," I murmured to myself as my breathing started to slow down. I shut my eyes as I pulled my blanket over myself, allowing my exhaustion to take over. 

     When tomorrow came, I thought I would be ready. 

     I thought I would never lose hope, even in a game as brutal as this one. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 - When Tragedy Strikes 

[External]

[The Murderer - Heartaches]

     “Are you proud of me, all you viewers?”

     The woman named Eva, so cheery and bright and too good for this world, breathed no longer.

      Yet I heaved. The deed was done. There was no going back.

     So why? Why was I so guilty? What was this ache in my chest I had tried to so hard to ignore?

     I left no traces of my presence behind. The only thing different in Eva’s room would be her new little… necklace.

     I didn’t deserve to feel so guilty. Not when I did her a favor by freeing her from this game.

      Never mind those she would leave behind.

                                 ~
[Scarlett]

     It seemed that every night I had a horrible dream, I would wake up to something worse.

     My groggy mind could barely process the sights, the sounds, the smell around me.

     It was the stench of death. Subtle, yet choking everyone alive.

     Choking. Gosh.

     I avoided looking at Eva’s suffocated corpse. How ashen her skin was. How her eyes remained shut.

     Throwing up would only make this worse.

     “Sabrina, I’m sorry you had to see this,” Charlie shook his head, a hand on his forehead as he took her aside nearby me. “I’m so, so sorry.”

     The poor girl. Aside from Jacob, all of her friends were dying. One might’ve called it suspicious, but I called it bad timing.

     Sabrina sniffled as Austin handed her a box of tissues. I knew another tissue box would go missing after this.

      “I’m sorry for your loss,” Austin lowly said, his tone neutral yet his expression genuine.

      She simply nodded, embracing Charlie as she blew her nose again. More sounds of disbelief and shock echoed throughout the room.     

     “How does this keep happening?!”

     “This is disgusting…”

     “Colleen, get the hurl bucket…”

     How did this keep happening? How could someone dare to do such evil?

      “Hey there, friends! I see you’ve all found a body!”

      Everyone scoffed, or sighed, or groaned. It was only natural when it was the intercom voice speaking.
     
      “Eva was killed by Murderer last night,” the voice of evil continued. “Let’s just say she’ll never use that pretty voice again thanks to her airways being brutally suffocated. Boohoo!”

     Boohoo my foot. I’d make that Intercom Guy sorry, somehow…

     I felt tears close in on my vision as the morning’s mourning session began. 

                               ~
     By the time dinner was over, the fridge was full of our leftovers. 

     Morale was at an all time low, much more so without Eva. The most amusing thing I saw was Thomas gulp down a muffin from the elusive 'Muffin Man'. 

     “I didn’t have the stomach to eat,” Liza admitted, sipping at her water for the gazillionth time. “Even milk tastes chalky.”

     “I… I can’t blame you,” Even Thomas and Spencer had gone quiet. Thomas continued talking. “Right now, I don’t have the stomach for jokes.”

     We’d all be checking on Sabrina and Jacob for the past hour. They wanted to grieve in peace— what else were we supposed to do?

     “What a lonely dinner!” Intercom Guy remarked once everyone (aside from Jacob and Sabrina) was seated in the living room. We all held each other a little more tightly. “So many people, yet nothing to talk about!”

     I believed they were wrong. It didn’t matter that we went quiet. We were closer than ever, it felt like. What mattered was how we were going to win this game.

     “Still no yappers? Fine— I’ll give you something to talk about. Find that Murderer, you good guys!”

     “How? We don’t even know the evidence!” Ash grimaced, rolling his eyes. 

     “Ohh, yeah… About that…”

     “Ash, you were accused by the Investigator last night.”

     What? I locked eyes him with him immediately. Ash, a Murderer? 

     It seemed he was caught off guard, just as I was. His stroll to the bathroom was interrupted as he froze in place and simply murmured, “Oh. I see.”

      What I could see was his false nonchalant demeanor. I heard the way his tone wavered, saw how tightly his hands were clenched.

     “Unbelievable,” Liza whispered to herself before locking eyes with me and understanding my panic. “Scarlett, calm down. I’m sure there’s a logical way to explain this.”

     I tried to take a deep breath, and yet my tone still faltered. “There’s no way it can be Ash. I—I visit him every night with Liza and... and...."

     It was Austin who prompted me to continue. "Go on, Scarlett. We need any and every alibi we can get."

     I once again locked eyes with Liza, who nodded for me to continue. "When the lights go out, Liza and I visit Ash. Power in numbers, you know? And we all stayed together last night-- I never saw him leave, at all. I did fall asleep, though, but I really don’t think it’s Ash.”

     That seemed to do the trick. Austin's sharp gaze drifted to the others in the room. "Does anyone else have an alibi?"

     Truth be told, it was nice to hear someone as reserved as Austin speak up. I appreciated his efforts, even more so as more people came forward:

     Colleen said she went to the bathroom before the lights went out, staying in her room for the whole night. Whether or not she was lying, I knew she was, at the very least, not our Murderer.

     Jacob and Sabrina claimed they stayed in their respective rooms mourning Eva's loss. While Austin seemed awfully suspicious of them, I thought they were telling the truth. After all, why would someone kill their own friend? 

     Charlie and Austin vouched for each other in a similar fashion. Charlie went as far as saying Austin was his guard dog whenever he went to the bathroom. 

     Admittedly, that got quite a few laughs from most of us. Even Sabrina shot him a smile. 

     I hoped Charlie would cheat death forever. 

     "I got to be you honest with you all," Coralie began once it was her turn to share. "It was, like, three am when I had an early morning snack. I woke up at two or something."

     "I saw her," Thomas smirked. "She looked crazy hungry. You guys won't see any poha flakes for a while."

     "Thomas tells no lies," she shot him a bright grin while Spencer watched from the side. 

     That was a pretty interesting way to be cleared. Still, the questioning continued.

     But when we got to Spencer, he had no good response.

     "I couldn't sleep at all last night," he groaned, his sunny disposition long gone. "I took a walk at four something AM, on the main floor."

     "Huh?" Coralie raised an eyebrow. "Thomas and I were still there at that time, I think. We didn't see you."

     "Oh, uh, maybe it was two or something."

     "Two?" Charlie interjected. "Pretty sure I went to the bathroom then. With Austin, obviously."

     "Uh... Well, I actually was walking upstairs..."

    Upstairs. Upstairs, where Eva died. 

     "Can anyone vouch for Spencer?" Thomas' eyebrows furrowed, his mouth in a frown as he reluctantly pressed further.

     No one said a thing. 

     "No, wait, that might've been last night. I went to the bathroom on a walk, y'know, and I think I saw you, ," Spencer hurriedly explained. 

     "Did you stuff his head in the toilet?" Austin asked with an even scarier scowl. 

     "What? Of course not, he was just--"

     "I think it's you, Spencer," Colleen confessed. "Even on the first night your only alibi was visiting Thomas before Charlie got... dunked on. We only voted Anna because--"

     "Time's UP, losers!" Intercom-voice-thing crooned. "It's time to vote!!! And remember: if you don't vote, I do!"
    
     "We understand, Intercom Guy," Thomas mumbled under his breath, to which the intercom said:

     "That's Intercom Gal to you, you crude sir!" 'Intercom Gal' huffed in a mock posh accent, her words light and almost musical. 

     No one laughed as most of us voted for who we all thought it was. 

     I had never seen Thomas hesitate so much. 

                                                                                                                                                          ~
[External]

[Intercom Gal]

     Apparently, it was time for Cactus to unleash another tantrum on morality.

     "Come on! Why can't you just answer my questions?!" he cried like a whiny, blond baby.

    "Keep crying about it!" I slammed my FlickerPod (in reality, a mere old computer) shut as I glared at him. Sometimes he really was a pain in the head! Can-I-Leave-Flicker this or Can-I-Spare-Person that!

     What he should've been concerned about were out ratings! Which were... beautifully high, actually. Good, good-- it was only natural. 

    "If Boss says it's above your paygrade, then it's. Above. Your PAYGRADE!" I hollered at him, the assistants (like the newly voted out Anna!) snooping on our insightful conversation about the Boss' new directions quickly hurrying away. 

    "Regan, please!!" he whined again. I couldn't believe I used to love babies. "At least tell me why that man-- Dan-- had to die! Why did I have to kill him of all people?"

    I pinched my nose bridge. Dan. Daniel whatever-his-last-name was. Of course he asked about his latest victim. Of course it was Dan.

    "He deserved it," I rolled my eyes, whirring my chair around to face him, straightening my posture to emanate Boss Jo's energy. "Not only was he trying to stop us-- just look at the lengths he went to do so!"

    Ben pulled out the puppy eyes. Ridiculous blond baby.

    "Once upon a time, he was just like us. Working under Boss J. And like you, he questioned everything," I began, setting my hands on my knees. Then I mocked him and his silly British accent. "'Oh, miss boss, why do I have to do this?' 'Why do I have to do that?' Such a nosy, annoying kid. But unlike you, he was smart. He knew just how to get what he wanted."

    I whirled away from Cactus and faced the monitor that displayed the many events occurring in Flicker right now. Poor little Spencer, getting voted out. My assistants should be handling him right now... "What he wanted was to destroy us. Destroy everything we worked for just because he thought our methods wrong. Apparently, no one could sway him."

    "Well, sometimes murder is wrong..." Ben mumbled, smoothing out his blanket as he reclined in his beanbag.

    "Anyways, he went on to, with a few others, create the Revelation Foundation," my eyes darkened. Ben's face flickered into one of anxiety as the lights flickered above us. This building needed a repair or two. 

    "So he..."

    "Yes, Ben. He was a spy."

    "But that doesn't necessarily mean he should've died--"

    "All those Foundation people try to do is paint us in a negative light. Imagine just how many are among us now! Think about all of the evil we're stopping, Ben. All of the people here... they've earned their place in this killing game. Only those who deserve to live will."

    "There must be some truth to what they're saying--"

    "Do you understand what they've done to stop OUR evil, Ben?" I hissed. "They try to be saviors, but they're no god. They can't save everyone. Consider the broadcasting interruption from the first season, episode nine. Can you tell me what happened then, Ben?"

    "I... uh... I don't--"

    "Of course you don't. You're too busy sympathizing with the same people who organized the death of a barrage of innocent workers in order to 'save' players. Consider the executions of the executives, the merciless assassinations of former players who were trying to heal our staff! Thank Flicker we stopped them back then, too!"

    "But... we... I..."

    "Look at you, at a loss for words," I sneered as he looked down at his blanket. Who cares if it was bought with blood money? "We let Dan roam free for a reason. We ended his life for a reason. All this time, he was fighting against the same organization that controlled him from start to end. In trying to stop us, he showed he was really one of us."

    He didn't know how to argue back. Perhaps he would've, if it hadn't been drilled into our heads that we, as members of Flicker, were right.

    And all who opposed us were dead wrong.

    "They're still out there, Ben. You'd better keep an eye out," my eyes followed the players on the monitor. Colleen was chatting with Coralie about her innocence, about how she was the psychic.  

    His mouth hung agape, his mind probably trying to process the truth of it all.

    It was always a bitter pill to swallow, realizing not everything worked in shades of black and white.

    "...Yes, Regan."

    "Good boy."

    Yes, because he was better than Mr. Spy Guy. Because good, to us, wasn't about kindness or chivalry or 'loving thy neighbor'.

    It was all about justice.

    You right other's wrongs by justice. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 8 - As It Should Be

[External]

[Charlie]

     “The vents… you can’t be serious, Charlie.”

     “How many times have I told you to not worry about it? Once I find something to open those rusty things, everything will be as it should be.

     “Fine,” she mumbled after a while, her tone reluctant. “I trust you.”

     "Thank you, again, Sabrina," I placed her light hands in mine, staring down at them. "I understand that this may be difficult, and maybe very intense--"

     She didn't smile, but she didn't move her hands away either. Her voice was as honey smooth as ever. "Don't worry, Charlie. I'll... try my best."

     We only had a few hours before we would say goodbye. This needed to be intensely convincing if we wanted to stop Flicker once and for all. 

     Now, there was no room for mistakes. 

     "Head to the basement while I turn off all the cameras," I ordered, shooting her one last encouraging smile before we executed my death.

     But first? I needed a knife. And there was only one place to find such a thing.
                                                                                                                                                          ~
[Scarlett]

(A few hours earlier…)

     While Liza stayed with Colleen during the night, I walked downstairs with Thomas. The lights were starting to flicker as he trudged into the kitchen, following close behind me. He remained eerily silent until I set my lantern on the dining table, which made a soft clink.

     "Why'd you bring me here?" Thomas grumbled as I turned around, my lantern's bright, orange glow blinding his eyes. "I'm not doing any more chugging competitions, thank you very much."

     Of course he wasn't. Not with Spencer gone, at least. 

     Poor Thomas… we all missed his shenanigans. It only added to our uneasiness when we learned that Spencer was voted out in vain.

     "A little midnight snack never hurt anyone, did it?" I tried to joke as I slowly opened the fridge door. I shut my eyes as its harsh white light flaunted all the delicious desserts and treats at our disposal. 

     "You've got the wrong idea if you think this'll make me feel better," he rolled his eyes as he examined the cheesecake I set before him. 

     I said nothing in reply while closing the fridge door. And for a while, we stood in silence. 

     When I saw him finally prod at the thick yet miniature thing, I spoke. “Might as well try my best to help you relax. Spencer will be… fine, you know? He’s probably smiling and laughing at Intercom Gal as we speak.”

     Thomas wrinkled his nose at the nickname, his expression reverting into a neutral one.  “You’re really that insistent on that nickname, huh?”

     “Better to have a name, I think,” I grinned. “Then one day we can put a face to it. And then a pie in it."

     “Trying to follow in my footsteps, aren’t you?” he also grinned— a tiny one, but a sliver of his usual self at least. He sighed afterwards, taking a tiny bite of his creamy snack, as if the dreariness of Spencer’s disappearance clouded over his mind.

     "Maybe," I chuckled. In yet another gap of silence that followed, I realized his gaze has drifted elsewhere. "What exactly are you looking at?"

     He gestured to something behind me. I turned my head and almost flinched at the set of serrated knives next to the sink. Their ragged outlines were illuminated by our lanterns, a reminder of what dangers we were taking by being out here while the lights were out.

     "Thank God Liza isn't here or else she would scream," I remarked, averting my eyes immediately while trying to calm my breathing. Knives so sharp were really only useful for murderer… "That lady hates knives."

     "And yet she wants to be a nurse-- and she's dang good at those medical procedures, too," Thomas’s’ gaze moved to my pale face. "She'd better be thankful she isn't the murderer."

     "Heh... yeah."

     We both took one last glance at those terribly sharp knives. Hopefully they'd only be used for cooking. And not on us, who were like open prey to the murderer down here. 

     Apparently, Thomas thought the same. 

     "You know what. Let’s stop looking at it and share this cake," Thomas, just as uncomfortable as I was, handed me a fork from the cutlery in the center of the table. "I don't want to think about any of that right now."

     "Hahaha… Of course. Who am I to deny a tasty cheesecake with you, Thomas?"

     "...Thanks, Scarlett," his smile returned once more. Even if our lives were at ‘steak’, at least we’d die eating cheesecake.

                                                                                                                                               ~
[External]

[Charlie]

     There would be no records of what was to come.

     There were no eyes on me, no intercom speaker, no player, nobody.

     Yet I felt chills run down my spine every other step I took. Every time I raised my lantern. Every time I thought about my death.

     'Death'.

     I had succeeded in turning off the cameras. I trusted Sabrina would take care of the rest once I left this game.

     As for right now, it was time to get a knife.

     There were knives in the kitchen, as I had observed earlier today. Needlessly serrated, pointlessly sharp-- of course they were for the Murderer. 

     My heart thudded in my aching chest as I reached my destination, sinking when I realized someone was already there. 

     Eating all of my precious, rich, and creamy chocolate truffles. 

     It was the truffle murderer. 

     "Coralie," I cleared my throat. "It's a pleasure seeing you here."

     She froze when she saw me approaching. "I... Uh, hey, Charlie! Sorry... were these yours?"
   
     I decided to go easy on her, even if baking those truffles took me more than a few hours. "Ah, well, don't worry about it. When you're hungry, you're hungry."

     "Right as always," Coralie nodded, shoving one final truffle in her mouth before shutting the container and sliding it back into the fridge. "You're hungry too, I take it?"

     I could never have an appetite knowing what was at stake. "Not really. I just... couldn't sleep."

     "I understand," her eyes softened, some chocolate smudges at the edges of her wide, pink lips. "But where's Austin?"

     "In his room," I answered. 

     "Aren't you worried about the Murderer?"

     "I'm more worried about them using those knives."

     Coralie lifted her lantern and squinted into the darkness. "Oh, wow. Those are..."

     "Really good for cooking? Thought so too."

     She snorted. "Well, rest assured that when I'm around, you won't get drowned in toilets or become a shish kebab."

     "Thank you," How kind of her. However, there'd be no chance of me getting stuck in either situation if she would simply just leave and let me get one of those knives in peace.

     "Do you want to stay with me tonight, by the way? Since Austin's not with you and all," she continued, going so far as to take a seat at the dinner table. She drummed her short fingers against the marble, the gentle noise barely registering in my hearing.

     If it were any other time...

     "Very cordial of you, Coralie," I smiled, my body refusing to join her while my mind considered her words for a fleeting second. "But I think we should both head upstairs. You and I could both use some rest."

     "Hah. Yeah."

     I only nodded, not looking behind me as she grabbed her lantern and left. If this would be our final encounter, so be it.

     I had places to be, and so did she. 

                                                                                                                                                     ~
[External]

[Intercom Gal]

     "All right, what's with the broken cameras?" I grumbled, glaring at all the static on the monitor screens. Four minutes into my highlights reel of this episode and somehow every camera was offline. First the lights, then our cameras?! Darn this crusty, old house-- we should've never used it!

    My beloved Nokia ringtone snapped me out of my fiery rage, the microtonal tune soothing my nerves.

     Until I realized it was the Boss. Can't a woman get her break?

     "Good early morning, Boss," I tried to bust out my usual suave tone, to no avail. Silly Ben, stealing my water bottles... "What is it?"

     "Cut the act, Regan. I can tell you haven't had water in a while," her voice, just as enchanting as ever, seemed muffled. "You didn't even read my letter, did you?"

     What letter? Silly Boss, trying to make me worry about old timey communication methods. My finger hovered over the end call button. "I don't believe I received it."

     "Well, I'll say it to you over the phone. You and I are having a dinner meeting from five to nine in two days. Come through the back so that the photo crew won't see you before you leave," Boss Jo with her double life as a model... Living the dream, isn't she? I wished we could all be like her. 

     "Yes, Boss," there goes my finger, inches away from ending the call. Talking with the Boss always made me antsy. And very, very sweaty. 
     
     "Before you go, I also want to say Jojo will be there, too. Show some respect if you see him," she crooned, amused. “And say hi to Ben for me. He’ll be taking over for two days in your stead. The plane tickets will be sent to you soon. Check your mail this time, will you?”

     "Yeah, of course, Boss..." Please, boss, just end this... I want to watch my highlights so badly!!

     "And one more thing: be on time, please. I have some rather important information regarding Flicker's future."

     Then she hung up on me. She was truly an amazing woman.

     "That's Boss for you," Ben strolled in. I saw his face appear in the FlickerPod's reflection when I opened it up again.

     "Gotta love the Boss," was all I said before carrying on with life, hoping to witness another juicy death. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 9 - Happy Birthday!

[External]

[Austin - Mw li ksri? / The Absence of Closure]

     Thump.

     I barely registered the feeling as I slowly rolled over, my itchy blanket tangled around my legs. It’d been ages since I had a good sleep.

     "Charlie?" I grumbled, rubbing my head. Every single night I'd fallen out of bed, and every single night he'd been sleeping on the floor.
 
     Charlie never failed to make fun of me for it, yet he continued to let me use it.

     Speaking of Charlie, he didn't respond.

     "Charlie...?" I called out again, my voice incredibly sore. I propped myself up against the wall and kicked the blanket off me. Still no response. He was probably downstairs, cooking God-knows-what again or drinking without me. He seemed way too attached to that kitchen for his own good. 

     Still no response. Perhaps he had gotten over his nightly toilet fears.
     
     Seeing that he was so kind to be making breakfast, —I decided that must have been what he was doing, for my own sanity— I chose to make the bed. He’d be real surprised to see it look so organized. 

     I never bothered to make anything look too neat unless if I was in a good mood. And for some reason, I was.

     I headed downstairs with no sound of bacon searing or pancakes flipping, much to my disappointment. 

     My gaze fell to the kitchen. Empty. 

     So Charlie had overcome his potty fears after all.

     Despite Charlie’s absence, there was something only slightly better than him on the table.

     Cake. 

      I would never tell a soul about the way I scurried over there like a hungry little rat, hovering over the darn thing as if it were pure gold in a sea of dross.

     And even better, the red —of course it was red— icing said ‘Happy Birthday Austin!’ in bold, bright letters.

     Naturally, this peace was interrupted just a few seconds later.

     “A CAKE has been discovered! Good morning and welcome, my sleepyhead players, to the fourth and perhaps most important day of your Flicker careers! Everyone go downstairs and say happy birthday for Austin for me!”

     Oh, great.

     A few minutes later, almost everyone sat around the table and eyed the cake just as mercilessly as I had. 

     While we all had access to decent desserts and mini-cakes in the fridge, nothing compared to the sheer size and flavor of the seven-layered caramel cake that was somehow a quarter eaten before we got to the Happy Birthday song.

     “Thank God it’s your birthday,” Coralie sighed, dabbing at her chin with a napkin. Jacob chuckled next to her while Thomas nibbled on a muffin to his right. I heard there was a Muffin Man around here…
    
     “It’s just a shame it had to be here, of all places,” Sabrina added quietly, tucking some stray hair behind her ear.

     “I lost track of time here,” I scratched my head, avoiding everyone’s eyes as I spoke. If only Charlie were here. I still hadn’t seen him…

     When they all realized I was done talking, their attention shifted to the person next to them or to the food before us. All except Colleen.

     “Only natural,” Colleen, who sat to my left, looked at me gentle eyes. “Like Sabrina, I wish you could have celebrated outside of here.”

     I almost blushed. Usually, it was Charlie who did all the talking. Or received all the talking. “Oh, uh, don’t worry. When we get out of here, I’ll just… have another party.”

     “Lovely,” she crooned, looking me up and down. “And you’ll order another seven-layered cake, I take it?”

     She chuckled and I nodded, not knowing what else to say. 

     Thankfully, I didn’t need to. She connected our conversation to her life before she was thrust into this game. About how her boutique in the downtown area of somewhere was next to a ‘quaint little cake shop’, how she got free cakes by somehow managing to build a partnership with that place, about how much she missed their food and wished to get out of here.

     She didn’t seem wary of my aloofness or silence at all. Instead, she talked, and like a good man, I listened. 

     For a while, her vivid tales about delivering cakes and clothing to customers and buying a ‘cake-themed’ motorcycle as an advertisement took my mind off what was truly pressing: Charlie’s absence.

     Mysteriously gone, just like Dan. Nowhere to be seen, just like Dan.

     We all knew what became of that man.

     I forced some more cake into my mouth and leaned closer to Colleen. I even smiled. 

                                                                                                      ~
     “Has anyone seen Charlie?” 

     It was only half an hour before someone —Sabrina— asked about him. My heartbeat spiked as I clutched the dinner table’s edge, my knuckles white.

     “Uh, no, actually,” Coralie answered, her gaze surveying us all before it shifted back to me. “Wouldn’t you know, Austin?”

     “He wasn’t with me when I woke up,” I began, trying to keep my tone gruff and my voice level. This was no time for anxiety or worry. I wouldn’t give anyone that satisfaction.
   
      “Really?” Scarlett raised an eyebrow, her tone one of genuine surprise.

      Although she didn’t seem suspicious of me in the least, Charlie’s words rang through my mind: "If I hadn't been possibly murdered the same night, I bet people would have to vote me next."

     I hoped I wouldn’t end up like Anna, as selfish as that was. But people were often fickle…

      “Perhaps we should check the basement again,” Liza mumbled as unease grew.

     “I think I had too much cake…”

     “Is anyone else remembering Dan?”

     “No way I’m going back there!”

     “We have to check,” Sabrina stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with resolve. “We have to find him. Who knows? Maybe he fell asleep down there or something?”

     Spoken just like Charlie. 

     The tension in the air dissipated once Ash and Jacob immediately volunteered to go downstairs with her. In the corner of my eye, I saw Liza hold Scarlett back. She even wagged her finger.

     Brave souls. I decided it would be in my best interest to join them, so I offered to manage all the flashlights.

      “Thank you all for joining me down here,” Sabrina said once we reached the basement floor, squinting at the vast yet barren area before us. “I… would be too scared to go down here alone.”

     “Don’t even worry about it,” Ash, as calming as ever, flashed her a bright smile. 

     Jacob simply nodded. He turned to me expectantly, his hand outstretched to retrieve a flashlight.

     I gave him one, averting my gaze from his face. Below us was grey, cracked cement. Just as uninteresting as usual. 

     We began our search shortly after but to no avail.

     Seconds, minutes... an hour must have passed by. We even passed by the place where Dan's body was discovered. No one except Sabrina dared to go in, and she reported the absence of a body.

     It was both good news and bad news. Where was he? 

     Even a body would be more comforting than his disappearance forever. It felt like ages since I'd last seen him, talked with him, done anything with him. 

     But finally, we stopped.

     We gave up.

     Everyone said there was no sign of him. No body, no trace, nothing, no matter where we searched.

     The Murderer was too cruel to leave a body. 

     "I think we have to rule it as a murder," Scarlett's weary voice rang out as all of us gathered in the same kitchen we'd been so joyful in hours before. Ages before. "Just like Dan."

     "There's no other explanation for it," Coralie patted my back. "I'm sorry, Austin."

     Something inside of me shattered. I'd have wept if everyone wasn't looking at me with such pity. I wasn't the one dying. 

     I wasn't the one already dead. 

     "Womp womp!" that cruel intercom voice sang. "Charlie appears to have died under mysterious circumstances. Where his body is? None can say! But good thing there's a death in every day."

     No one was amused by the rhyme. 

     "Tough crowd AGAIN! Sheesh, what does it take to please you people?" the person grunted before proceeding. "Well, anyways, you all know the drill. Relax before you vote-vote-vote!"

     Click. We were left in silence once more. 

      "I'm going to be in my room if anyone needs me," I looked at everyone else in the room, my tone as composed as I could make it. "Please don't bother me unless it's necessary."

     I wanted nothing more to do with this game.

                                                                                                                         ~
[External]

[Jacob]

     She eluded me every time, that Sabrina. 

     Every time, I'd try to figure out just what that charming yet sly lady did when the lights went out—trying to find out if she was a true friend or a true foe. 

     But when all my options ran out after nights of being too exhausted to bother scouting out my potential suspect, I decided a confrontation was in order.

     "Sabrina," as she walked past me upstairs, I gently put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched as I looked up at her. "Sabrina, can you join me in my room for a moment?"

     "...Are you finally going to make me a muffin?" despite her recoiling, she smiled at me and flashed me a grin. She'd been through so much here... Could she really be the Murderer?

     For a split second, I doubted my judgment. But wavering was unacceptable in a place like this. How ruthless. "No, I... could you come into my room with me? I have some questions for you..."

                                                                                                                           ~
     She answered them all perfectly. I found no flaw in her reasoning, no issue with any of her testimonies. 

     My doubt still lingered. She was perfectly innocent, so it seemed. She was worthy of any muffin she wanted. 

     So why was she so sketchy, after all this time?

     "Please ally with me," she looked at me with tenderness in her eyes. "I won't ask for any more muffins if you do."

     Was it because she always asked me for muffins? Or the way she perpetually smelled of honey? Or... or...

     Because everyone who befriended her had died?

     "Of course, Sabrina."

     Shame on me for being a people-pleaser. 

                                                                                                                            ~

[Scarlett - General Consensus]

     Charlie.

     It had to be him. Not that I wanted it to be anyone else, of course— I’d rather we find that Murderer and escape already!

     But Charlie. He cheated death once, and now he would never cheat again. 

     The primary suspect was Austin, of course. He was the one Charlie was always seen with. He was the one Charlie roomed with at night. Wasn’t it the most logical conclusion that it was him? 

     All tried to form their rebuttals and failed. It had to be Austin, it just had to, and that’s what we had been saying every time, hoping it was the right answer, the right suspect.

     But today it was his birthday, and it was with weary hearts and tired eyes we wished him farewell.

     The same man we had all wished a happy birthday was gone. Gone to a place where we couldn’t say he was still alive or not. If he had reunited with his childhood friend, or if he really was suffering a fate worse than death.

     The burden only grew. Something as bright as a birthday had been dimmed by the terror of Flicker.  
     
     This was no happy birthday. Not at all. Not until we could bring justice to Charlie, to the wrongfully accused Austin, to all who died. 

     I would not celebrate until then.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10 - Power Shift

[External]

[Colleen - Typical Avoidance]

     This was all my fault, wasn’t it?

    I let that man get voted out, I let that man be scorned— who knows where he is now, whether he’s dead because of me or experiencing something worse? And on his birthday, nonetheless?

    That odd sphere computer told me he was innocent. So why, heavens tell me, did I let myself think not?

     Why did I let myself be fooled? Much more by myself?

     Why didn’t I say anything?

     I didn’t look back as I retired to my room a few minutes after Scarlett did, my heart aching as guilt penetrated the very marrow of my bones.

     I could barely speak as I entered my room, too under-the-weather to focus on anything but this terrible heartache. I, in some sense, was a murderer.

     A sin of omission was still a sin.

     So as I pondered what could’ve been— ah, what should’ve been, I failed to notice the shadow of a person within my room until she made herself known with a dry cough.

    I barely flinched. It was Coralie. “Just how long have you been here?”

    “Long enough to see how sad you are,” she remarked, making her way to where I sat. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

     “You know what’s wrong, Coralie,” I stressed, my face flushing. “This game is beyond me. It was Austin’s birthday— his birthday, Coralie!”

     “I know,” she shook her head, placing her hand on my shoulder. It was another mark of shame for us when that putrid Intercom Gal told us, once again, that we were wrong. Maybe if she’d bothered to give us more clues… 

     “Oh, Coralie, it’s horrible! See, this is why I’m so upset.”   

      “…You’re sure it isn’t anything else?”

     “I appreciate your concern, Coralie, but… I’d rather us talk about something else right now.”

     Distraction was no cure-all. But if any hope were to remain inside of me, it would not be through combatting despair.

                                  ~
[External]

[Intercom Gal]

     “You be a goodie while I’m gone, okay?” I pinched Ben’s cheek like his mother would. “It’s just a little business trip so I’ll be back in a few days.”

     “Regan…” he did not share my enthusiasm, parrying my hands with his littler ones. “You’re not my mom.”

     “Of course I’m not your mom! She died, what, ten years ago?”

     “Regan, that’s so rude!”

     “Why else does my name start with R, little cous?” I smirked and pinched his cheek again. He groaned as I continued. “Anyways, you know what to do while I’m gone. It’s finally your turn to be a Broadcaster! Aren’t you excited?”

     “Not really…” he mumbled, stuffing his hands in my pockets.

     “What’s got you so blue? You afraid to take on the family business?” I teased, giving him some space. I fell back into my spinny chair, its old wheels grinding against the floor as I flew backward. 

     "Oh, well, you know me..." he flushed, his eyes finding the floor particularly appealing. "I'm not really like you guys..."

     "Didn't we have this conversation yesterday?" I flashed him my most motherly smile ever, just to rub it in. "You'll be fine. It's been three years since you first started shadowing me. Just use the voice changer --or don't-- and give them a show!"

     "Ah... Well... Great."

     "Let the crowds sing your PRAISES, Ben! Make a NAME for yourself!" I continued to encourage him-- because of course most people needed encouragement to encourage murder. And of course, I did it theatrically. "It'll be super duper fun! Just make sure to keep an eye on the chef, though. He's French."

     "...What?"

     "Anywho, I have one more thing left to do. Get all your things prepared while I  send a letter..."

                                                                                                                                    ~
[External]

[Jordyn - Zpslua Upnoa]

     "Tch. Even in hell, we can't escape the mailman," I sniffed, ripping the pristine white envelope open, ignoring the blood-red seal that fell at Matt's feet.

     "Oh, Jordyn, don't say that," Matt cringed, shutting his eyes for a brief moment before curiosity got the best of him. He peered over at the letter I drew from the envelope, not bothering to be subtle.

     "'Dear twins'," I squinted at the handwriting before me. Ugly cursive. "'We here at  Flicker wish to see you shine with the other players. Come join the game tomorrow morning or else you'll both be dead by tomorrow night. Here's the scoop: if I don't see you two with more than two people, you'll both spontaneously explode! Thank you, cuties! Love you so much. Intercom Gal.' And, uh, there's a drawing of you and me here. Oh, is that a cross? Why am I covered in food grease?"

     I wrinkled my nose as Matt stifled a giggle, his fist covering his mouth as he skimmed over the words too. But after that brief second, the mood dimmed.

     Our strategy could only last so long. After today, we would either come out of here alive or never be seen again. The odds were not in our favor. 

     "I think know what you want to do," Matt placed a hand on my shoulder, his tone solemn. "If we must show ourselves to the others, so be it."     

     "Amen to that. But first... let's enjoy our final night alone."
     

Chapter Text

Chapter 11 - Ich Lüge

[Scarlett - A New Day]

     After a terrible night of sleep that led to me waking up with bloodshot and puffy eyes, I had only one consolation. 

     There was no nasal voice on the intercom. No joyfully murderous squeaking to add to my throbbing headache. 

     For a brief moment, I believed I was in heaven. I must have died in the middle of the night and would now watch over my fellow players from above like an ang--

     What kind of heaven had such prickly bedsheets? How did my pillow migrate to the opposite side of the bed? Why was the fabric by the side of my face damp?

     I sat up in bed and groaned. Turned out I was not free from the needlessly smelly Murder House. 

     To make matters worse, I heard the click of the intercom. I covered my ears, bracing for whatever terrors awaited me. 

    "Uh... Is this thing on? Oh! Good morning, everyone. I hope you have all had a wonderful rest."

     Truly terrible.

     Wait. Kind words? A genuine tone? This was not my Intercom Gal. 

     "I understand you all may have some questions. My name is Ben, and for now I will be taking over as your host. Please come downstairs for a lovely breakfast. I will answer any questions you may have. Today's breakfast is Bloody Spaghetti and Pastry Knives. See you  then!"

     Click.

     If they could just relax with the murder references for one second! Perhaps this 'Ben' and Intercom Gal weren't so different after all.

     I sighed as I clumsily made my bed, the pillow still on the wrong side, before I scrambled downstairs to eat whatever "Pastry Knives" were.

     And more importantly, to see if everyone was still alive.

                                                                                                                            ~

[External]

[Jordyn - Wyvzmzep sj xli Jmxxiwx]

     "Here's what we're going to do, Jordyn."

     Matt's voice barely registered through my ears as I leaned against the wall, my eyes drooping. Breakfast had already started. We were done for if we didn't go down there soon...

     "Hey, hey... stay awake for me, okay?"

     "Mgh," I groaned as my gaze fell onto his face. He put his hand on my shoulder, and of course, he smiled. How he was able to remain so peppy and energetic in the waking hours of breakfast was beyond me. "Go on."

    "We'll just... waltz up to the table, sit next to Coralie, and act like everything is fine. You hear me?"

     "Waltzes, Coralie, act normal. Got it."

     "Please be natural."

     "Can't get any more natural than this," I grunted, stretching my arms as his eyes softened. "Come on, Matt. Let's get going."

     "There you are. Don't worry-- everything will be okay."

                                                                                                                       ~
[Scarlett]

     Amazingly, for once, it seemed that my dreams had come true. Liza, Ash, Thomas, Colleen--- everyone, really-- were either seated around the kitchen table or wandering close by. Quiet chatter registered through my ears, a steady and soothing rhythm, as I took my seat next to Jacob. 

    "Oh, thank the heavens! Everyone's here," Colleen beamed, placing a hand on her chest as her eyes met mine. "Good morning, Scarlett."

    "Good morning," I croaked, adjusting my posture to mirror Colleen. I had no idea how she kept her back so rigid. And at this hour, at that.  

    "How was your sleep?" Jacob smiled at me, his newly formed eyebags showing. 

     "I keep having these weird dreams," I murmured. "Tons of nightmares about murder and all that.”

     "Only natural when you're living in one," he nodded, stiffening before turning to face Sabrina.

     For a moment, I went quiet, listening. All the voices around me merged, both distinct yet bleeding together as I surveyed everyone's facial expressions. 

     I was no professional, but it didn't take an investigator to know how discouraged we were all feeling. Frowns, arched eyebrows, barely touched food... I couldn't blame them.

    Three lives. Dan, Eva, Charlie-- all gone. Their dignity utterly destroyed by how they died, never to be seen again by the communities who probably loved them. We didn't even find Charlie's body...

     Why was this allowed to happen? How--?

     I stopped short when I noticed Coralie walking over, passing out dishes. I was going in circles, driving myself insane with these useless questions.

     "Thank you, Coralie," I forced a smile onto my face as I carefully took the plate from her tan hands and placed it on the table.

     The spaghetti was indeed bloody, the pastry knives were indeed pastries, and... was that a muffin?

     I squinted at it. It was a pretty massive muffin, as big as my palm. I sneakily eyed the plates around me. No muffin. 

     Yet before me: Cornbread. Circular. Brown wrap. My favorite. 

     This was not a normal part of the menu. Didn't Thomas get one of these some time ago? I was losing track of time here. 

     It clicked in my head. There was a Muffin Man in this game, wasn't there? 

     I gawked at Coralie, who continued passing out plates with no muffins on them. Could she be...?

                                                                                                                          ~
[External]

[Jordyn]

    Despite all of Matt's hopeful planning, it took us longer than expected to get downstairs. That would be on me. By the time we reached the landing, people were already chatting away or poking at the spaghetti before them. 

    We did what we could. It wasn't our fault everyone was already awake. Still, we pressed on as awkwardly as ever, skirting around furniture and creeping toward the unknowing players. 

     As casually as humanly possible, we plopped ourselves next to Coralie. 

     "Another great morning," Matt smiled, looking at everyone with more enthusiasm than they looked at him.

     The table fell into silence. 

     My gaze fell on a random fork in the center of the table, my face stinging with second-hand embarrassment.  

     After all silence was chaos. 

     "Good morning!"

     "Uh, hello?"

     "Coralie has long lost siblings?!"

     I silently willed Matt to use whatever he learned in chaplain school to cover for me while I stuffed my face with spaghetti. I'd cover for him once my stomach wasn't an empty pit.

     Coralie simply eyed me as I dabbed at my face with a napkin from somewhere. 

     "Hey," I grinned at her. 

     "Welcome to breakfast," she said, sharing my amusement as Matt took charge of representing me and him.

     Where had we been? In hiding, he answered. 

     Were we the Murderers? No, because there was only one Murderer, we have alibis, and if anyone wanted any more security, they could search our secret room (which was just Dan's. Smart, right? But creepy.)

     What was our role?

     At this question, he locked eyes with me. I heard the slow, uneven tapping of his shoes against the floor, and yet his face was devoid of any worry whatsoever.  

     What a miracle man. Good thing we came as a pair or else I’d have cracked.

     "We're innocent-- that's all you need to know, yeah?" I covered his hesitancy, folding my arms. My plate was now clean. "Anyone who's not against you is for you."

     Silence. As there should be. 

     "If there are any more questions, I have no problems with answering them," I added, letting Matt take a break from all that talking. He took a nibble of his Pastry Knife and a tiny sip of water. 

     Thankfully, I had no opportunity to talk,  and neither did anyone else - the intercom clicked on.

     "Thank you, Jordyn and Matt, for your participation in this important Flicker episode," 'Ben' spoke, already more pleasant than that ratty announcer before. "I have a few announcements prepared for us this morning. Firstly, the investigator has been voted out, so there is no lead on the Murderer. No one was killed last night, by the way! Congratulations.”

    Maybe Matt and I would survive this after all.

     “Unfortunately, this means that the Murderer disobeyed our orders. Because of this, around voting time, one of you will be randomly chosen to be out of the game.”

     Or not.

                                  ~

     As much as I wanted to get back upstairs and hibernate, I couldn't leave Matt behind.

     Not when, somehow, he managed to get along with just about everybody. He skipped next to Coralie, smiled at Colleen, shook hands with Scarlett... he sure was impressive. And somehow of my own blood. 

    "Well, that's it for my tour," Coralie grinned at the two of us, leaning against the basement entrance door frame. "Not a lot of variety here."

     "Thank you anyway," Matt dipped his head as I lingered behind him like a shadow. I hadn't spoken a word since breakfast.

     I suspected that spaghetti was poisonous, too. My gut tingled every other minute. 

     "Say thanks," Matt gently ribbed my side. 

     "Thank you, Coralie," I rolled my eyes but made my voice audible. 

     "It's no problem, really," she smiled, her tone breezy. "I'll be  in the kitchen if you need anything."

     Matt smiled back and led me to the living room. He took a seat and patted the spot next to him before saying, "See? They're not so bad."

     "You forget that one of them is a Murderer. And an experienced one, if they're able to get away with it for so long."

     "We'll catch them in time. Now that we're here, they have  a few extra brains!"

     "Always with your hopeful thinking. You'd better hope we're not next."                               
                                                                                                       

                              ~

[Scarlett - Role Call]

     "Call it a hunch, but I'm not falling for it."

     Colleen's musical voice was sharp as she sat down in front of her vanity --apparently every room, though simple, had something unique about it-- and stared at the mirror. I peered over at my mirrored self on her airbed, averting my eyes when I saw how bloodshot my eyes were.

     Dinner was already over. I had never seen myself look so dishelved. If I made it out of here alive, I promised to take better care of myself and those around me— starting with sleep.

    "I mean, they had some good arguments, Colleen," I tried to reason with her after running through my thoughts. There was no need to demonize the new survivors because of their smart strategy. "Why would one of them be the Murderer if they're hiding together?"

     "Don't be so naive, darling," her gaze shifted to me, her  eyebrows furrowed. "Any Murderer knows how to get an innocent on their side."

     “So you’re saying that one of them is blackmailing the other…?” There’s no way, right? What was Colleen, a detective?

     “I’m not making any explicit statements. I’m only saying it's a possibility, and this possibility could lead us all to our deaths if we happen to be too trusting.”

     “...That’s really smart. I think I agree with you.”

     “Thank you. But all suspicions aside, I am glad to say that Sabrina is also innocent.”

     A faint smile formed on my face. As long as Colleen was here, I was sure we’d get out of here alive.  “Really?  Why don’t we get her to join us?”

     “Yes, yes. I’ll go get her tomorrow. Thank you for visiting, dear.”

     “Uh, always a pleasure.”

     I stretched my arms and legs before standing up. I took one last glance  at the mirror and at Colleen’s reflection in it before exiting, gently shutting the door.

     I didn’t want to believe that either Jordyn or Matt would be the Murderer, and yet Colleen was right. With so many deaths behind us, I had to get it together and--

     Jordyn and Matt have a room now?

     Seemed like some of the vacant rooms have been renovated in their name. With them around, I felt the slightest tingle of hope in my chest.

     If I was going to take this game more seriously, so be it. Things seemed clearer by the minute.

     I pushed away the dread of what was to come next.

                                                                                                               ~
     Although he wasn't Intercom Gal, my disdain for Ben lingered.

     Punished because the Murderer decided to do something nice for once? How messed up could these people be?

     I couldn't tell if it was a merciful or cruel act on Ben's part that one of us would be randomly chosen. Who would it be? What would become of that person?

     "Thank you all for joining me tonight," Ben's voice echoed on the intercom, his voice as calm as ever. "As you all know, one of you will be selected to be removed from the game as a punishment for the Murderer."

     "That's not fair--!" Thomas began, cut off by the feedback rupturing on the intercom. 

     "Attention, please, or else I might have to make you all go deaf," Ben's voice returned. "I have decided to be kind to you all by granting you this: one person will be granted immunity from this random selection. Talk amongst yourselves to decide who this will be. And please, don't keep me waiting."

     Click. 

     We all froze. 

     Immunity. A beautiful word in the face of this horrible situation. 

     I immediately locked eyes with Colleen.

     "Who do you all think it should be?" Liza immediately asked, standing up from her spot on the couch. 

     It took a few seconds for someone to respond. 

     "I think it should be someone with an important role," Jacob answered. "You guys remember the medic? The psychic and stuff?"

     "That's fine by me," Colleen agreed. "Let's do a role check."

     "But what if the Murderer targets them next?" Matt interjected. "Isn't there a way to do this more... privately?"

     "Why don't we all write our roles down on paper and give them to someone trustworthy? Then, we can nominate someone to be immune with our  best judgement," I began slowly, trying to get this over  with. The gears turned in my head as I looked around the room, hoping everyone else would be convinced. "I can't stay it'll stop the Murderer from targeting anyone, but it might make us all more comfortable..."

     Thomas grinned to my left and Sabrina pondered it to my right. 

     "Trustworthy who?" Jordyn folded her arms, her expression cool. She looked down at us, next to the broken old TV in the corner of the room. 

     "Trustworthy you," Thomas pointed at me without a second thought. 

     "What?" I raised my eyebrows, shocked. "Me?"

     "What role are you?" Jordyn questioned. 

     "Ah... I'm a Survivor. Liza, Thomas, and Ash can vouch for me."

     "Hm." Jordyn got off my case with a grunt. 

     "All in favor say 'aye'!" Colleen smiled and folded her hands over her lap.

     "Aye!"

     "Yes, Scarlett!!"

     "Aye."

     "I think we have a winner," I grinned as toothily as Thomas would. "Now let's get some paper..."

     It felt special, having people deem me as the right person to give their roles to. I sat up just a little bit taller, almost like Colleen. 

     It took everyone a few minutes to write their roles down. My heart beat just a bit quicker-- would I be able to read anyone's handwriting? Did anyone write in cursive? I didn't know how to read cursive...

     "Here you go," Soon enough, Sabrina stood before me with a glass bowl of tiny slips of paper. I gently took it and placed it into my lap, shooing Thomas away before I read anything.

     I dug my hand into the paper mountain and began retrieving names and roles, squinting at them in the poor lighting we had. 

     Ash - Survivor

     Liza - Medic

     Jordyn - Innocent

     Sabrina - Survivor c:

     Matt - Innocent

     Jacob -  Muffin Man

     Coralie - Survivor [There's a microdrawing of an omelette on the back.]

     Colleen - Psychic

     Thoma - Sir Sivi Survivoer

     Almost everything checked out. I heard only the sound of breathing in this living room as I recalled the information.

     The 'special' roles seemed to check out. I knew Colleen had to be the  psychic, I knew Liza had healed Charlie (when he was still alive...), and I could see Jacob being the muffin man.

     But what was with Jordyn and Matt calling themselves 'innocent'? Who were the elusive 'Twins' in this game?

     "Decide soon, my friends. It's getting quite late," Ben's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I stifled a groan. "You do realize you have two minutes, yes?"

     Protests shot out as I tried to wrap up my thinking. I wasn't supposed to be focusing on the Murderer, was I? I just had to nominate someone for immunity...

     "Colleen!" I called out. "I think that, due to her really special abilities, Colleen should be immune."

     "What's her role?"

     "She must be really  important, huh?"

     "Is she just a survivor or...?"

     "I trust Scarlett's judgement," Liza stepped by my side. "I'm the Medic. I can say with genuine honesty that she has a good heart and is completely innocent."

     Ash nodded, and so did Thomas. I placed a hand on my cheek. Warm.

     "I'm with her," Coralie flashed me a supportive grin. 

     Everyone else had no objections.

      "We're ready, Benny!" Thomas crooned, causing Liza to facepalm. 

      “Excellent. Thank you for your cooperation, my friends. Now… you all have chosen Colleen to be immune, yes?”

     “That’s our final answer,” a surge of hope coursed through my chest. Even if I wouldn’t make it, Colleen would.

     “What a lovely decision. Unanimous, too…”

     One beat. Two beats. Three beats.

     “Just like every other night, right, my friends?”

     What was he going on about? Surely spinning a wheel or rolling a die didn’t take that long, did it?

     “Where one person dies, and one person gets voted out…”

     “Just say who it is already!” Jordyn scoffed.

     “You should all know by now that Flicker is a game of lies. Of deception. Why did you trust me?”

     The lights shut down.

     “There was no immunity, my friends. Nobody is free from the reality of death.”

      Silence.

     “And as a result, you’ve all sent Colleen to hers.”

     After all silence was chaos.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12 - Change of Formality 

[External]

[Austin - In the Name of Justice / Rescue Operation: Colleen]

     "Too harsh, Austin. Too harsh!"

     I loomed over Ben's unconscious body, the baseball bat set down by my side as I ignored Anna's disapproving tone. 

     "Well, Anna, you didn't have any better ideas. I guess violence truly is the answer after all," I scoffed, feeling for a pulse on Ben's wrist before kicking him again for good measure. 

      Anna covered her eyes. Even Spencer was on the fence about this whole... operation.

     I looked up at the monitor. Plenty of faces. Plenty of trauma from this game. Even if we weren't in it any longer, we still had a role to play.

     This room, the monitor room as Spener so wisely dubbed it, held the secrets we wished to know. From here we would see who the Murderer was and send that person out of the game and into a jail cell.

     It was only right, after all. If I wanted nothing more to do with this game, how much more is everyone else?

     I slung the baseball bat over my shoulder as Spencer and  Anna rushed the body out of the room. It was already midnight-- almost everyone else should be asleep. 

     I sat in the chair where Ben did, lurched forward as my eyes roamed to each and every camera's display. There was Scarlett, rolling around in bed. There was Coralie, getting yet another midnight snack. Of course, Thomas was chugging pickle juice next to her.

     For the life of me, I couldn't figure out who the Murderer was. Who killed Charlie.

     I wasn't smart like him. He should've been the detective, not me. 

     And on that fateful night, it should've been me, not him. 

     "I don't feel comfortable with what we just did," Anna confessed, walking back inside the monitor a few minutes later. She rubbed her arm and kept her eyes on the floor while I tried to keep my eyes focused. 

     "He deserved it," I brushed it off, ignoring the displays depicting sleeping Survivors. I didn't know how much time we had left before Ben woke up or before some staff member outed us.

     In some ways, Anna was right. Violence was quick, useful for something like this if only that Murderer wasn't taking their sweet, sweet time. But in the long run, we had no idea what would happen next. 

     Some resistance we were.

                                                                                                                   ~

[External]

[Colleen]

     My hope returned as I realized I had, in fact, not sent Austin to his death. That there was some sort of magnificent resistance occurring in the margins of this game.

     It must've been midnight when my heroes returned, faces I knew and recognized from that very first night I met them all. How naive I was back then, on that calm night before the storm. 

     I only smiled as they diligently got to work, lifting the 'safety' bar keeping me trapped alongside the durable thick wire around my arms and torso. I watched as Austin whispered directions, as Anna cut away at the wire clawing into the very depths of my skin, as Spencer spouted dad jokes every other minute while keeping watch nearby.

     I don't know how they did this. I didn't need to know how they did it. Through these blessed people, I was alive.

     It felt as though I came back from the dead, even if I wasn't truly dead. The grave's hands were cut off from me. 

     "Thank you," was all I could muster as we escaped the damp environment of this backroom. They only nodded as my footsteps joined theirs.

     Once upstairs, they took me into Austin's room and told me the news.

     "So, Colleen, I love you, but you're supposed to be dead right now," Anna casually said, her palms together and facing towards me. 

     "Why aren't you all...?" I began, my body still jittery with the joy of being saved. "I mean, the lady on the intercom said you'd all experience...?"

     "A fate worse than death?" Spencer smirked, his tone unimpressed. "If your idea of fun is  being that woman's servant..."

    "We bribed her," Anna interjected with a quick round of nods. "We... we bribed her. And yes, I guess you could say we're her, er, servants."

     "And now she's gone and replaced with Ben," Austin folded his arms. The range of expressions around me was enough to give me whiplash.

     "He's a little nicer, but it's obvious to see he needs therapy," Anna forced a smile. "He's not very good at hiding it."

     "He's only this mean because of the influence of that coward intercom woman," Austin clicked his tongue.

     "Scarlett calls her 'Intercom Gal'," Spencer giggled. 

     "Ah, I understand now," I nodded, hopping into the conversation. Upon speaking, however, my heart was filled with thorny sorrow as I envisioned their faces in my minds. My neutral expression fell as I looked downwards. "Oh dear... our fellow players! What will become of them?"

     "Don't be so melodramatic. We've knocked Ben out to try and watch his cameras and we've kept the other staff working for him under our control," Austin answered, his expression blank. "However, we've received nothing of interest  tonight."

     "Maybe we shouldn't use violence next time," Anna whispered to him, trying to block her mouth with her hand as she leaned closer to Austin. 

     "Yes we should, Anna," Spencer rolled his eyes, although his own tone held a ring of uncertainty. 

     "Anyway,"  Austin took the lead. "You're with us now. That's what matters. As for our next move? Don't worry about it."

     "Austin, I thought you finally planned it all out--" Anna's eyes widened, and so did her anxious smile. 

     "You'll be fine, Colleen. Just... stay here while I sort everything out."

     "If we're in trouble, Austin, it's on you," Spencer grumbled.

     "Not if we're the ones in charge," was all Austin said back. 

                                                                                                                            ~
[Scarlett]

     What was it already?

     The sixth morning?

     How had we been here for almost a week?

     I didn't want to get up. 

     I didn't want to face everyone else again.

     A mistake or not, I got Colleen voted out. Colleen. The woman did no evil.
 
     And I got her voted out. So now we have no more Psychic.

     I rubbed my eyes. Just great. 

     Three suspects. Ash, Thomas, Coralie. It was impossible, this game. Everyone had an alibi. Everyone was innocent. 

     I didn't want to be here anymore.

     Knock. Knock.

     "Scarlett, it's me. Liza."

     And then she came in. 

     "Hey, Lizzy," I murmured, slouching on my bed as she entered. I couldn’t bother to groom myself— it was Liza, I trusted her.  She’s already seen me at my sneeziest worst.

      “…Did you sleep well last night?” she hesitated to ask. I saw it in how she stiffly sat next to me on the bed once I prompted her, how she kept a tight grip on her medical kit.

     “Not at all,” I groaned, running a hand through my red hair. My bun must’ve fallen…

     “Me neither. I’m sorry about last night, with what happened…”

     "It wasn't your fault, was it? And I know it wasn't mine either, but I still feel guilty!" I shut my eyes, falling onto my back after my sharp outburst. 

     Liza's eyes bored into mine, her tone low. "It's only natural, Scarlett. It's only natural."

    "I know," I rotated onto my side, curling into a tiny ball. "...I know."

     She let me take a deep breath. I avoided her gaze as she scanned me, a shameless human monster ball, up and down. 

     Medics. I could be never as calm as she was. 

    "When we get out of here, together, we'll celebrate and have a huge party. It'll be half being free of Flicker and half Austin's birthday," Liza declared after a while, a still rock in a thunderous storm. My fear lessened in her presence, despite her being a woman of few words. I supposed friends were just like that. 

     "Great," I mumbled, trying to sneak in a few more minutes of sleep. At least I wouldn't die with Liza around. 

     "Well, in order for that to happen, we need to get our thoughts straight and catch this murderer once and for all."

     "Great," I sighed, shoving my pillow over my eyes. Maybe I didn't want to sleep, if  I would only get more absurd abstract dreams. 

     "Take it easy for now, okay? I'll be seeing you at breakfast."

     "Yes, Doc."

     She smiled and snorted, an event so wonderfully rare, before getting up.

     Click.

     There was a closed door in her wake. 

     I missed her already, and yet I didn't know why she came.

                                                                                                                         ~
[External]

[Liza - Weal or Woe]

(A few hours ago...)

     The deep, orange glow of three lanterns combined did not illuminate his face; however, his sniffles told all there was to know. I had entered the newcomer's rooms just a few minutes after a certain disaster, unable to catch even a mere glimpse of a possible suspect. Every second from then on was a battle between life and death. 

     I refused to think about the consequences had I not decided to visit the Twins tonight. 

     I took yet another deep breath, shaking my head as I shut my eyes and tried to squeeze what little energy I had left out of my soul. 

     The sting of Matt’s gaze lingered as I inspected her body.  If Matt was alive, then so was she. Barely. What a curse it must've been, to have your life chained to another's. 

     I used the back of my hand to wipe the sweat from my forehead, my eyes squinting at my progress on Jordyn's sutures. I was a third of the way done. The contrast between her sewn-together skin and the gaping void of the wound made my head spin. I resisted the bile rising into the tip of my throat as I stared at the sheer length of that deep, rough wound.

     The Murderer must have used a thick knife.

     Matt sniffled again to my left, his hands seemingly clasped in prayer. The man barely moved an inch since I began my risky operation. I averted my gaze from him and continued my hard work, struggling to ward off my own fatigue and exhaustion. 

     "Miss Liza, I cannot thank you enough for what you've done for us," is what I was sure he wanted to say. Composed, elegant, calm. 

     But the man was a nervous wreck, tears on the verge of slipping through his eyes as he tried to speak. I caught the way his eyes remained trained on his friend, Jordyn.

     Or rather, his Twin, whose breathing was finicky at best. Her heart rate was diminished. Earlier, I struggled to feel a pulse. 

     That Murderer had targeted her torso-- of course, they would! She was hanging from a thread, both literally and figuratively, and no amount of 'Stayin' Alive' or chest compressions could help me now.

     How different this was from the first night. The first night when I delayed Charlie's death, when I could tell that the Murderer was holding back.

    My hands continued their repetitive motions. I slowed my breathing and focused on Jordyn's limp body. 

     Perhaps this was that cruel Murderer at their worst. Here I was, repairing what the Murderer had attempted to destroy.

     They knew what they were doing, targeting her vital areas, focusing on making her wounds just the right depth... 

     But I knew what I was doing, too. I promised to never let other life slip through my hands.

                                                                                                            ~

[External]

[Jordyn - Stayin' Alive 2: Electric Boogaloo]

     "Er... good morning, my lovely players. Please head downstairs for yet another warm breakfast of deviled eggs and macaroni salad."

     Was it that Ben guy again? I could barely move an inch without vomiting. 

     "Matt, just bring the food back upstairs..." I groaned as I saw the silhouette of a person coming into the room. I shut my eyes as I turned my head away from the lamp next to the bed, pulling the blankets over myself. 

     "Ah, sorry Jordyn. It's me, Liza."

     "Liza?" I rolled over, squinting at the silhouette. Another flash of sharp pain pushed through my torso-- what in the world was up with that place? I could barely remember a straight thing from last night. "What're you doing here?"

     "Ah... I understand you might not remember what happened last night. Here, allow me to show you."

     In a flash, the tiny woman was at my side. She gently moved away the blankets giving me the only warmth I had before placing her hand over an area of my torso.

     "Go on," I mumbled. Didn't realize I'd be getting a doctor's appointment this early after my reveal.

     Liza hesitantly revealed a nasty few inches of well-done stitches on the left side of my body. I immediately cringed at the sight of them but couldn't avert my gaze. 
 
     "What the he-- What on God's green earth happened last night?" I wrinkled my nose, demanding an answer. 

     "I mean for all of my lovely players to come downstairs, thank you very much," and just like that Intercom Woman, Ben had to go and ruin it. 

     "I'll... tell you once we get downstairs," Liza, with her furrowed brow and eyes fixed on the stitches, muttered. "Come, use me as a crutch. You're in no position to do any strenuous work for the time being."

     I rolled my eyes. "You're kidding."

     "Don't you think any harm that comes to you will also come to your Twin?"

     I froze. How did she...

     "Fine. No need to bring Matt into this."

     What in the world did Matt tell her?

     I reluctantly stood up and awkwardly leaned on Liza as we began the trek downstairs. It was pretty unbearable-- every few steps I would clumsily trip over my foot or over nothing. I felt like a stupid, helpless puppy. 

     Once we sat down, Ben began yapping again. I also saw Matt getting all chummy next to Coralie, who was cooking some sunny-side-ups. Two chefs, huh?

     "Thank you, dear players, for your participation! I have some daily announcements for us all. First and foremost: The Murderer has attacked one of two twins, but the medic saved the victim! Both were protected. A round of applause!”

     My hands were slow to move as I side-eyed Liza. She stiffened, slowly inching closer to me as if to shield herself. 

     I resisted the urge to chuckle at the blush forming on her dark face, opting to give her a small pat on the back instead. She reluctantly acknowledged it with a nod. Not a fan of fame, I see…

     “My role’s been outed,” I quietly sighed once the clapping died down. “But thanks to you, I’m not dead. Least I have that.”

     “Yes…” she nodded, seemingly disgruntled by the limelight. I’ll continue keeping a look out for you two. Rest assured, I’ll try my best to keep everyone alive.”

     "I don't doubt it, medic," was all I said back. 


     
     

     
     
     

Chapter Text

Chapter 13 - Game of Survival

[External]

[Jordyn]

     By the time breakfast was over, everyone had something they wanted to say. We all sat somewhere in the now crowded living room, a person at your every step. 

     Scarlett, looking like an old lady detective, sat in the center of the couch with her eyes squinted at a notebook. Her bun was falling off to the side, red strands of hair sticking to her cheeks and her friends practically had their faces inside of the paper. 

     "And Charlie... do we have a motive for why he died?" the redhead finally uttered. We'd been discussing the Murderer's homicidal tendencies for a while, trying to find any inch of a motive or how we could possibly survive. I had to give it up for this crew-- they weren't as lousy as I had previously thought.

     "Well, he was attacked once," Sabrina, ever so inquisitive, muttered. She'd been a lot more social, or so I'd heard from Liza. You'd have thought all of these deaths would beat her down...  “Perhaps the Murderer really wanted him dead.”

     “Like Dan, he was definitely a sort of leader figure,” one of Scarlett’s friends, all clad in black, added. Ash, wasn’t it?

     “Ah, maybe the Murderer’s trying to make us as disorganized as possible!” Sabrina suddenly looked up, her eyes darting around the room. “That’s… that’s gotta be it, right?”

     “That’s pretty smart,” I nodded along with a few others. “Now what’s your plan to catch them?”

     “That’s something we haven’t figured out yet, as you can see,” Scarlett stifled a groan, throwing me a pitiful smile. She truly was a mad detective— but a hilarious-looking one at that.

     “I mean, Sabrina’s the smart one… so I agree with what she says,” Thomas folded his arms, leaning on the green couch. I refused to think about how dirty it was and averted my eyes from the coffee(?) stain on the armrest. 

     “Your persistence is truly remarkable, Sabrina,” Matt the peacemaker chimed in. I felt a slight grin play on my lips. Of course he’d say that. 

     “Thank you,” she shot him a gentle smile before continuing. “Anyways… does anyone else have anything to add?”

     A brief silence fell over the room. I fixed my eyes on Sabrina and gave her a quick nod— if no one else was going to say anything, then she should.

     I eyed Jacob, that muffin man, who was a shadow behind her. 

     “I think we should move on," I pitched in. "You know, find out how to catch the Murderer and all that."

      “All right!” Sabrina nodded in agreement, her tone resolute. “Let me think…”

     “Ooh!” Thomas interjected. “I mean, there’s only thee suspects left, right? We got me, Ash, and you, Coralie. So… why don’t we just vote out random people until we get the Murderer out?”

      Coralie stifled a chuckle. Everyone saw the way Ash rolled his eyes.

     “Thomas,” Liza grimaced. “We only get to vote someone out once a day. If we have to wait a few nights to get the Murderer out by chance, then that means more innocents could die.”

     “I’m just sayin’… sounded better in my head,” he mumbled back.

     “Time is of the essence,” Coralie pitched in. “Logic is a very valuable thing here, isn’t it?”

     “That sure is right,” Sabrina nodded along, her eyes focused on the floor. I wondered what in the world she was thinking about now. 

     “Maybe we should go over alibis again,” Coralie suggested. I shifted my gaze onto the woman who was the first player Matt and I had met. As far as looks went, she was as calm as ever. 

      “Sure,” Thomas shrugged, his expression neutral. He bounced his knee every few seconds.

      “All right,” Ash nodded, folding his arms.

     Our three suspects. One of them with blood on their hands.

     I was no detective, but I sure as heaven could try.

     On second thought…

     “The lack of knowledge we have about the evidence is terrible,” I pinched my nosebridge. “We don’t know when anybody died and we don’t even have any tech.”

     “Well…” Sabrina rubbed the back of her neck, doubt clouding over her expression.

      “We’ll work with what we got,” Matt smiled at me. “All things are possible. Now, let’s get to work!”

                                                                                                                                ~

[External]

[Intercom Gal - Meeting in the Dark]

     What was it with rich people and fancy schmancy rural houses? This was the fifth time I'd knocked already... I wondered what time it was now, back where Ben was. Hopefully it wasn't as dark, as dreary, as disgustingly boring as it was out here. 

     I loved Boss Jo dearly, but maybe not enough to endure the eerie black cast over her house and the foggy, ominous woods behind it and its annoying little chorus of crickets accompanying my knocks every few seconds. My knuckles were a light shade of red and I thought my face was about to fall off from the blasts of cold slapping it. 

     If I was rich, I'd never buy some cabin out in the woods like she did. Why would anyone live here if they  had to?

     "Jo," I crooned, my throat sore. If I was out here for another minute, I'd die. "Jo, I DON'T THINK I CAN STAND HERE ANY LONGER!"

     I tried to catch a glimpse of the house's interior from the foggy window next to the door, only to be met with my face. I put a hand on my cheek and stared at the person that was myself, the self that committed mass atrocities silly deeds against many for her own self-benefit without regard for life after death.

     Life after death? What was I going on about again?  The cold must be messing with my brain...

     I hated self-reflection. It was so naive. It was like Ben. 

     I looked away from the window displaying my lazy eye and my overthinking brain and back at the door, but the Benish thoughts raced back into my head the moment I caught a glimpse of my hand as it was poised to  knock on the door. The cold was piercing my cheeks and seeping into the very depths of my spine as I warded the thoughts away. 

     The first time I had been at this house had been years ago, when I was just as bright-eyed as Ben and on my way to making a mark in history by participating in Flicker. But like all job prospects, an interview came first.

     I wondered if the interior, which was blocked off by own face in the window, still looked the same. I wondered if I'd  be asked the same questions. 

     I began to zone out. 

     "Regan, why do people choose to do bad things?"

     Bad things? What's bad for you isn't bad for me. 

     Knock, knock, knock. 

     "Regan, do you know how we're going to justify these so-called 'bad things'?"

     Normalization. Glorify it. Dramatify it. Make it a reality. Make death what the people want-- for themselves or others. 

     That's what Flicker was about, after all. I smiled to myself. That answer was probably what got me straight into the show.

     Normalization. The public will think it's okay if everybody's doing it. 

     "Jo," I halfheartedly murmured to the door. A part of me was inside, ready to accept my job was a broadcaster for Flicker. Ready to change the world, for better or for worse. 

     "Regan, did you ever think you'd be a bad person?"

     I'm a good person, really. I'm just getting rid of the world's scum. They may be people like you and I, but they're worthless. Worthless at birth, worthless at death. 

     Ahh, the good old days... I let out a chilly breath and continued reminiscing. I truly was a good person.

      "Regan..."

      "Regan......."

     "Regan!"

     I snapped out my trance  and looked up at  the  Boss. She wore her hair up  in two blonde-brown buns as usual and wore that same jolly expression on her face, as if she hadn't left me to freeze outside. As usual, she was perfect as ever. An entrepreneur, a savvy humanitarian, never a cold-hearted director of a crazy life-ending game.

     Oh, no. If anyone would be blamed, it would be people like me. The showrunners, the broadcasters... hehe, maybe even the players.

     "Regan, my dear... It's so lovely to see you," she flashed me a beautiful smile and gestured for me to come in. I trudged inside.

     A warm, familiar feeling rippled through my chest. As much as I hated the rural scene, I loved how cozy it was in here. No matter how many crimes were committed, no matter how many assassinations were plotted... it looked like any other rich woman's house.

     And it smelled like tea. 

     "Excuse my delay," Jo gently apologized, though more of a formality than anything. To make an act convincing, one had to keep it up even around the lowly like us. "I've made us some chamomile tea."

     She gestured to the dining table. I sat at it obediently.

     "How was the  trip here, my dear?" she poured me some tea in a fancy  china cup-- the ones with the flowers near the rim, looking all pretty. "I hope the Revelation Foundation didn't intercept you at all?

     That organization of fools... Those hypocrites didn't obey their own creed. Creeds were useless anyway. I cleared my throat. "You can bet they tried, Boss. Right after I landed here, too."

     She stopped pouring, her  back still turned to me. The kettle made a clinking noise as it was set down. "Did you eliminate them?"

     "Obviously," I lied. In reality, they mugged me and I was too dazed to fight back. Thank Flicker I didn't have any hard drives with me. 

    "Regan," she handed me the cup of tea with a deadpan expression.

     I grinned toothily at  her. Of course  she knew it was a lie. 

     She sat in front of me and  took a long sip from her own cup. I watched as she casually swallowed the  steaming hot liquid and set her  cup down on the oak table. "Let's get down to business now, my dear."

     "Of course, Boss."

     "The players... they call you 'Intercom Gal', don't they?" she stared into my eyes, her voice quiet. "They're such strong, resilient people... I'm wondering why I even chose them to participate in such an evil game. Why I chose you to perpetuate that."

     "Um? What's that supposed to mean?" a frown  fell over  my  lips. "It's the final episode anyway. Better to feed those devious animals that you call fans rather than leaving them hungry."

     "I know," she looked down at her own hands. Was  that guilt seeping into her tone, her expression? Impossible. It was for the  act. The facade. "I am aware, Regan."

      But then, just as expected, her tenderness fell. "But our enemies are onto us, Regan. That pesky Revelation Foundation... even within your own game I have reason to believe there is a mole."

     "Like Charlie?" I raised an eyebrow. "He's dead, though."

     “Much harm could still be done by that man,” she sighed, before looking back up at me. “But you have no culpability.”

      “Okay.”

     She took a deep breath and met my eyes. "As you know, their advancements may continue. Day after day they get closer to exposing us all. After this episode, I may cancel the show altogether. Consider this... the final game."

     "Boss..."

     "It is final Regan."

    "Then I will do my  best to make it  one everyone will remember."

                                                                                                                        ~

[External]

[Charlie]

     When he first saw me, he wept.

     Austin wept and bitterly told me I was a mere illusion, a delusion because maybe Ben had drugged him in his sleep and was punishing him or maybe he was sleep deprived because of all his responsibilities or maybe Spencer put something in his late night  pickle juice.

     As Anna and Spencer once again dragged Ben’s limp —not dead, limp, I had to remind myself— body away from the monitors reflecting dim light onto my frame, I gently explained to him that yes, I was real, yes, I had just come back to the game, and no, I never really died.

     “Charlie,” was all he could say before me.

     “You can’t kill a man like me,” I smiled at him. And I knew it. 

     That Murderer could kill Eva and those executives could order Dan’s death, but they’d never get me. 

     They could mar my image and burn my words but they’d never truly kill me. 

     The truth wasn’t so easily quelled.

     “Get up,” I looked down at Austin, who was rubbing his bloodshot eyes. He remained on the ground for a brief moment before I extended my hand.

     He took it and said nothing as I turned our focus towards the monitors before us.

     I already knew about the players’ dire situation. Three suspects left. Only one could be the Murderer.

     “Who do you think it is?” Austin gruffly asked me after a while, folding his arms.

     “Information has been inconclusive as of late,” I shook my head. “Coralie, Ash, Thomas… there are red herrings all over the place.”

     “We need a lead, Charlie.”

     “Look. In the promotional tapes for this game, Thomas was announced to be the Murderer. However, roles were still subject to change. When I got intel thought to be from the Boss, however, she would always draw on references to waitressing and knives. Commenters, on the other hand, were excited to see someone like a leader fool everyone and take the win for themselves.”

     “…What?”

     “In other words, we’re stuck with the same three people they’re stuck with.”

     “Huh… and ‘the Boss’?”

     “Boss Jo— it’s what her subordinates refer to the founder of Flicker as. Now... let's get back to work.”

     “You’ve got to be kidding me. Get Colleen in here— she’ll probably know what to do!”

                                                                                                                          ~

[External]

[Liza] 

     I felt sick at the thought of defending a murderer, unknowingly or otherwise. 

     "That's why out of all of us, it has to be Ash," Coralie declared. She had been pacing in the room, her tone unusually resolute as she accused Ash and poked holes into his alibis. 

     Alibis that Scarlett and I had so naively supported. Alibis that seemed like nothing with how overwhelmingly sound Coralie and Thomas' were. If they were in the kitchen together almost every night, and Scarlett and I would almost always be falling asleep, what was Ash doing?

     What was he doing when the lights were out? Was he the charming, reserved leader I thought him to be or a cold-blooded murderer whose messes I had clean up time and time again?

     "You say all this, but I'm sure you don't spend the whole night with Thomas either, Miss Coralie," Ash shot back, his face stoic as he sat on the couch. "Whenever Thomas comes to visit me, I'm always there. Thomas, have you ever seen me with any sort of bloodied clothing?"

     "Uh, no," the man awkwardly replied. He diverted his gaze to the rug before us and stiffly shoved his  hands into his pockets. 

     "In the dark? Would Thomas even think to do so, Mister Ash?" Coralie retorted. "How would he even notice-- you always wear black!"

     "What do you do when you and Thomas depart, Miss Coralie?" Ash's tone remained indifferent, if not slightly amused. 

     "We spent most of the night together. We have a routine meeting time and everything. We even check on each other at night. Thomas, have you ever seen me with bloody clothing?"

     "Uh, no," Thomas' voice was strained. 

     "I assume murders always occur after you leave him, Miss Coralie? Because neither of you has ever reported a body," Ash folded his arms. 

     "Well, most murders take place in areas we don't bother to check until someone's gone missing, Mister Ash," she gritted her teeth. "What kind of kitchen party takes place in a basement? Wouldn't you know the basement better than I do?"

     "What makes you say that?"

     "You've always been quite a leader, following in Dan's footsteps, then in Charlie's. And look where being a leader got them. God knows where their bodies are."

     "I am not the only one who knew about that solitary confinement room in the basement, Coralie."

     "But you sure could pull it off."

     "'Could' doesn't mean 'would'. Now you, on the other hand... Liza, you told us a knife was used on Jordyn's body?"

     "Ouch," Jordyn grunted. Matt stifled a giggle. 

     "Yes, that's right," I answered, quickly glancing at Jordyn, who remained next to her beloved cousin. 

     "As a waitress, Coralie, you must have some knowledge about kitchenware. Including knives," Ash deduced. 

     "As a waitress? You're mistaken."

     "Look how proficient you are with those knives in the kitchen."

     "So? I can cook, I can't kill."

     "Liza, tell us about Jordyn's wounds, please."

     "They were extremely deep, targeting her torso area and therefore vital points of the body It seemed to me that this was a meticulous choice. There were no signs of recklessness," I offered, my head pounding with how fast this back-and-forth was occurring. 

     "Meticulous, huh? That seems to fit you, Ash," Coralie sniffed. 

     "I've never seen you so passionate before, Coralie," Ash smirked. 

     "Anyways, I say your point is irrelevant. When it all comes down to it, you just don't have a witness to back you up. Liza and Scarlett, bless their hearts, fall asleep just like any of us. Thomas and I had a system."

     "A system with cracks in it. Sometimes you don't have a witness either, Miss Coralie."

     "Not as much as you do. I say you're the Murderer."

     Her words hung in the air. And although they were convicting, they received no applause or cheer from any of us. 

     None of us wanted anybody of us to be a killer. To be a traitor. To be a liar, a devilish serpent. 

     I knew Intercom Guy or even Ben wanted that. And yet, even Ben said nothing. 

     We hadn't heard from him in a while.

     "Ben?" Scarlett broke the silence with a hesitant croak. "I think... I think we should vote now."

     Silence fell over us once more. 

     "Ben?" this time it was Coralie. 

     "Hello?"

     "Intercom Guy?"

     "Anybody up there...?"

     No response. 

     "Something's off," Thomas announced. 

     "Thank you, Thomas," both Ash and Coralie chimed in. 

     Another awkward pause as the two stared at each other. I wanted to facepalm. 

     The intercom crackled. 

     "Hey, everybody!"

     My heart skipped a beat. 

     Was that... Charlie's voice?

Chapter Text

Chapter 14 - Mercy

[External]

[Liza]

      To make things even more awkward, there was Charlie on the intercom to interrupt our silence, his voice resounding through the living room as it came through the scratchy intercom. 

      Either that or it was Ben with a horrifyingly accurate voice changer, down to the minutest detail.

     I recognized Charlie's light, sharp accent paired with his smooth voice as he continued to calmly assure us that yes, it was him, yes, he was on the intercom, and no, he never died. 

     “As for why I’m not dead? Don’t worry about that just yet,” I could practically hear him smiling over the intercom. I could barely breathe. “Now… we’re thinking the Murderer is our good friend Ash?”

     “Yeah…”

     “Absolutely not, Coralie.”

     Coralie shot Ash an unusually sharp glare.

     After another beat of silence, someone else answered.

     “I think we’re ready to vote, Charlie,” Sabrina croaked to the nearest camera, looking blindsided. 

     All I could think about was toilets and CPR as he responded in that pristine, easygoing tone. “Ready to vote…? Hm, I disagree, Sabrina. Take your time, everyone. I’m the one in control now.”

     Charlie had resumed his position of leader. That Murderer couldn’t get us disorganized now if Charlie was somehow the head of the game. How would you kill someone who always came back from the dead?

     It was almost too good to be true. I locked eyes with Scarlett, trying to figure out if I was dreaming. 

     “Um, what’s that supposed to mean?” Thomas sat there with the widest eyes and the silliest frown. 

     "We have to vote, don't we?" Jordyn raised an eyebrow. "Because Ben..."

     "Ah, but I'm here now, aren't I? And as long as I am, there will be no consequences for taking your time and voting prudently," Charlie explained. "My suggestion is that you re-analyze your suspects-- and don’t focus on Thomas too much while you’re at it. Coralie and Ash are of equal suspicion."

     Both Coralie and Ash sighed. 

    "It's going to be a long night," Scarlett groaned, burying her face in her hands. 

                                                                                                                         ~

[External]

[Charlie - Flicker]

     “The footage tells me virtually nothing,” I groaned to myself after a few brief moments. I had spent the last few early morning hours after my return on the intercom searching for any sort of indicator as to who the Murderer could be.

     I could count Thomas out, at least— his alibis all aligned with the camera footage. I wouldn’t dare go through another montage of him chugging pickle juice and pretending Spencer was with him in his room while Liza would pretend to sleep nearby. Her side-eyes and raised eyebrows, while unhelpful to my investigations, gave me enough energy to continue. 

     It was bizarre to me, observing all of these moments of life in such a contained, intimate, murderous space. Life went on, even in the darkest of moments.

     Some lives moved on while some stayed here forever.

     The cameras could only reveal so much to me. The sheer amount of security backing up these cursed, past few recordings blocked me from accessing a large portion of players’ room surveillance during the night and into the morning.

     Including Ash's and Coralie's. 

     “Charlie?” Someone’s voice rang out. I knew who it was before I even looked.

     "Colleen," I nodded, acknowledging her presence without looking at her. Her voice was as musical and light as ever. "How can I help you?"

     "Ben's awake again," she answered after a brief moment, staring at my reflection on a dead monitor. "He... wants to talk to you."

     "Get Austin in there and tell Ben he's me," I grumbled, staring at another segment of footage with 'access denied' blocking it. My eye twitched as I closed the alert. If I saw that thing one more time...

     Colleen’s eyes flicked to the screen’s red glare as she spoke. “We’ve already tried that, you see. And… somehow, Ben knows you’re out here.”

     I took a deep breath. Colleen paused again. 

     I leaned forward and rested my head on my hands. I could feel her eyes on my back even if she never moved. 

     "You seem tired," she began. 

     "It is three in the morning," I dryly chuckled. 

     "...If you go  see  Ben, I can watch the monitors for you."

     "No, it's fine. Get some rest."

     "I've been doing that all evening. I can stand a few hours."

     I chuckled again, not knowing what to say. I kept my mouth shut to avoid letting any cracks slip through, restraining any movement.

     I must get back to work. 

     "Work can't be efficient if the person doing it isn't getting enough rest," Colleen chided, placing a hand on my shoulder. It was as if she read my mind. She was the Psychic after all… even if all she used was a fake crystal ball. "You've done enough."

     I took another deep breath.

     "...I'll go see Ben."

     Slowly, I stirred. I looked at Colleen, who gave me a bright smile, as we traded places.

     My mind barely registered how far I had walked until I was inside the basement, the side that was blocked off to the players by that odd solitary confinement room. The one Dan had died in…

     The area's musty, damp smell endured. I shifted my eyes away from the alarmingly tall, dull-colored chairs, one of which Colleen was apparently tied to at one point, and made my way towards Ben's little holding place— a replica of the  solitary confinement room just on  the other side. 

     What did the man possibly want? Did he know of my identity? He should consider himself grateful to be alive.

     I gritted my teeth and knocked on the door with a tense fist. 

     "Come in," the man answered. I slowly retracted my fist, allowing it to fall to my side before reluctantly opening the door. 

     To my surprise, it was slightly dimmed inside. The orange glow of the lightbulb was fighting to stay alive as I squinted at Ben. 

     Intercom Gal's accomplice. And yet... 

     "Good morning," he greeted me with an abnormally polite tone. 

     I looked around the room before answering. There was a round, ticking clock on the floor, a small wooden table with a few rotting books on it, a small black chair in front of it, and white, padded walls. He sat on an air mattress with a straw-filled pillow and a fluffy fleece blanket.

     “Hello,” I gave him a nod. “You said you had business with me?”

     “Ah, yes… I’ve been wanting to talk with you for a while now.”

     “About what?” I needed sleep.

     He opened his mouth before closing it again. He looked up at me with an almost pleading expression, before looking down at his hands.

     When he opened his mouth again, he whispered, as it if were a secret:  “…I killed him.”

     That cursed first night. The lightbulb above us flickered. Could it be…

     “I killed him.” he said again, even more resolutely— a confession of sorts. 

     And immediately my mind started running with memories of him and I, memories that melted into each other, overpowering any other thought I had in glaring shades of dull red; words from his mouth ringing through my head as I recalled every single second we had spent planning to infiltrate this unholy game, every moment we had spent alive together, thinking that no matter what at least one of us would make it out alive.

     It would be me.

     I would be the one to make it out alive in his honor. I was back— I had to be the one who rescued everyone on this death mission.

     “You did,” was all I could muster. “You did kill Dan.”

     I had to be.

     “I’m sorry,” he continued, his words clear and piercing. “Now, please hear me out…”

     Before another word was uttered, the light gave out.

      I stood in front of him, frozen while he continued to move, to move the hands that killed my comrade, to look up at the face of the man that would’ve killed him had I only known sooner.

     And I had the chance to, right then and there. Who could say I wasn’t justified in getting rid of the world’s scum? 

     “All I want is the truth,” he begged. 

     But I had quite the reputation to uphold, and if even one of the worst of this corporation sought of my answers, I would be inclined to respond with truth. 

                               ~
[Scarlett - Mbabyl'z Dvyk]

     “I don’t know about this, Liza,” I crept behind her, raising my lantern next to her face as I acted as some sort of bodyguard. Coralie had been adamant about staying with Thomas tonight, leaving Liza with no bodyguard.

     That’s where I came in. I thought of myself more as a detective, but any role would do. I wasn’t about to complain at what— one? Two? Three AM in the morning? 

     “I’m… I’m serious about this, Scarlett,” she hesitantly responded. “I mean, even if your dream about Jordyn and Matt proves to be false… there’s no harm in checking in with them.”

     “Seriously? You’re going based off vibes?”

     “Dreaming about a shadowy figure stabbing Jordyn’s heart out is a little more than vibes, Scarlett. Plus, you’ve been having them for a while now, right?”

      “I mean, sure, but they’re just so hard to understand. One night I’ll feel alone, like I’m trapped in a room left to die. So hopeless. And then the next I’ll feel like I’m suffocating, but suffocating in, like, blankets or something. So I feel comfortable. Weird, right?”

     “…So you don’t see how that relates to the murders that happened?”

     “Well, no, because ever since you told me about Charlie’s toilet scene, I haven’t wanted to think about them.”

     “I gave him CPR.”

     “A toilet,” I groaned, exasperatedly. “How the heck did that Murderer even attack two people without being caught?”

     “Considering the fact that we have no access to virtually any helpful evidence, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Liza scoffed as we stood in front of Jordyn and Matt’s room.

     It was Matt who opened the door. 

     “Ah, good morning, you two,” he smiled. It was the kind of smile I’d get from a parent after a particularly exhausting long day of work. Except in his case, his cousin almost just died.

     “Scarlett,” Liza nudged my elbow, snapping me out of my thoughts.

     “Oh, good morning, Matt,” I smiled back. 

     He nodded and tilted his head. “Do you two… need anything—?”

     “Is Jordyn doing all right?” Liza’s tone was unusually firm. 

     “Uh, yes, she’s fine. Her body is experiencing quite a few aches and pains, however…”

     Liza exhaled. “Better than expected. Good, good.”

     “She’s taking her medicine. I’m making sure of it, so no worries.”

     “Excellent,” Liza looked up at Matt, who met her eyes. “Have a great night.”

     “You too, you two,” and he smiled.

     I couldn’t help but grin back. Soon this nightmare would be over. Hope swelled in my chest once more.

     “Let’s visit Jacob next,” Liza turned to me. 
  
     “Whatever you say, boss,” I smiled at her.

                                 ~
[External]

[The Murderer - Obthu Uhabyl]

     It was over.

     The journey was over, all because of a twist I had never even dreamed of.

     The man, Charlie, a dear ally who loved his truffle cake, was back. There was no threat. There was no punishment.

     There was no reward for murdering.

     I was free.

     I was finally free, and so would everyone else be. 

     All I had to do was turn myself in.

     My final act of mercy for everyone.

     So why did I do it?

     I looked at the body before me.

     Perhaps it was simply human nature to want to silence the mouth of the siren, to want to shut down any disgrace against your holy or unholy name, to want to maim them before they maimed you. 

     Regardless of how it happened— how he sustained those bleeding wounds and bruises (did someone break a bone?) and broken glasses— it was the duty of someone like me to give him mercy.

     Mercy the only way I knew how.

                               ~
[External]

[Sabrina]

     “Jacob… Jacob, please wake up,” I begged as Liza hurriedly inspected his body, her body crouched and her eyebrows furrowed as she squinted at the damage.

     I had hope that Charlie would manage to get us out of this game. He was a leader, after all. And he came back, just as he said he would! 

     But in times like these, —perhaps this was the instinct that drove him to choose me to help him— I had to take the initiative. No one could do good behind a camera by merely watching.

     I was no medical professional myself, but I was glad we had Liza. 

     Her directions were clear and simple: console and comfort Jacob the best I could while delivering his body to the bed. 

     “Sabrina,” Jacob mumbled, his tone breathy and his eyes remaining shut. “Sabrina… ooh, ow… thank you.”

     “You have a remarkable tolerance to pain, Jacob,” I remarked as I slowly laid him on the bed. Liza didn’t say a word as she opened her medical kit behind us.

     “I’ll do whatever it takes to live,” he chuckled and gently took my hand. 

     I didn’t squeeze it lest I cause him any more pain and instead patted it with my free hand. “You get some rest…”

     “I’m so glad I trusted you,” he murmured over my words, removing his hand from my hold and placing it on his stomach.

      I ignored the gore on his clothes, leaving Liza to handle the rest.

     My attention instantly returned to the messy scene before me. I’d have to ask Jacob a bit more about what happened when he wasn’t writhing in pain. 

     “Liza—!” he shrieked as she quietly sighed.

     “It’ll be alright, muffin man,” Liza attempted to coo. “Just imagine the muffins comforting you…”

     Anyways, the crime scene. 

     I was bewildered as to how quickly it all happened. A few minutes of me going to the bathroom (this seemed to be a common thread for all attempts of murder on my friend’s lives) and I’d come back to a bloody, solemn scene the next morning.

     But it wasn’t the next morning, and, thank God if there is one, Liza and I caught on before it was too late. 

     But perhaps we weren’t quick enough. 

     Jacob’s glasses laid shattered on the floor, shards of glass slightly tinted by drying crimson blood. No obvious weapons were present— perhaps that Murderer used something unconventional. Hands, maybe? Or maybe they ran away with the weapon? I ought to inspect everyone’s bodies tomorrow or something. A brute force fight surely would have left a bruise on the Murderer.

      More questions than answers continued to sprout in my mind as I continued observing. The drawer near the bed and the glasses appeared as though it had been moved. But everything else seemed eerily normal… Was there any struggle? How did things get so bad without anyone noticing?

     And between Ash and Coralie, who would’ve done it?

Chapter Text

Chapter 15 - Return of Evil 

[External]

[Sabrina - Tlzzhnl vm h Klhk Thu]

     “Jacob…” I placed a hand on his shoulder. By the time morning had rolled around, his body was a sickly pale color.

     It was so dishearteningly familiar. It was almost the exact same shade Eva had been when we discovered her body. 

     But perhaps it was just a part of the process. Just like Jordyn, Jacob would hopefully get better and make it out alive with all of us. After all, all things were possible. We had survived for this long…

     “Sabrina,” he mumbled, slowly turning on his side to face me. “You were saying…?”

     Liza sat on a chair nearby, next to my vanity. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she studied Jacob’s frail body. Per usual, she said nothing. 

     “I was asking you to recall what happened when you were attacked. Could you please give me a play-by-play?” I gently requested.

     “Uh… well… as you know we sent that note to Coralie asking her to come… so while you were out, I opened the door. But it was someone in all black clothing. No hat though— they were wearing a hood.”

     “And then?”

     “I did what you told me to do. Acted like I knew what I was doing and accused them of being the Murderer. But then I got beat up.”

     “Any defining features?”

     “Too dark. Plus, as you can tell, my eyes got busted first.”

     “You poor soul…” The light of the room only served to illuminate his newly formed black eyes. Both of them. I knew Ash was a particularly strong guy… would Coralie also have the strength to do such a thing?

     “It’s all right. Better me than you.”

     “Do you have anything else that might be helpful?”

     “It was probably Ash. And yet… their voice wasn’t as deep. It was smoother, more relaxed.”

     “Oh?”

      Liza also raised an eyebrow, still remaining silent. 

     “All black clothing with a smooth voice…” Jacob chuckled, his laughter turning into dry coughs. “I hate this game.”

     “Don’t we all,” Liza sighed, standing up from her chair. Her eyes met mine as I turned to face her, startled by the sound of the floorboards creaking. “Sabrina, it looks like we’ll have to check in with Charlie and review the alibis.”

     “Ah…” Jacob groaned, sending Liza to his side immediately. “Th-There’s got to be something I’m missing… I’ll try my best to see if I can remember anything to help you guys.”

     “Shh. Don’t stress yourself, Jacob,” Liza finally said, her eyes still on him. Neutrality shrouded her expression. “You’ve done enough.”

     It was never good to think excessively negatively, but… I debated whether or not Jacob would even make it to the voting session. 

                                    ~

[Scarlett]

     It was around noontime, in my room after lunch, when strange noises came from the intercom.

     “Tinkywinky! Dipsy! Lala! Po,” the intercom —not Intercom Gal, not Ben, not even Charlie, just… the intercom— announced. 

    Thomas immediately shot me a glance. “Scarlett… have I finally gone insane?”

     “Teletubbies! Teletubbies! Say… he-llo!” the intercom jovially sang, causing Thomas’ eyes to water. He slowly placed his head onto my shoulder, seeking refuge from… that. 

     “If you’re going insane then so am I,” I patted his back awkwardly. “Because I’m also hearing the Teletubbies theme song.”

     Together we rushed to the kitchen to see if anyone else had heard this… secret message. No one was there. 

      But instead, we heard something even more whimsical.

     “Ben! Ben, turn that intercom off!” I had never heard Charlie so aggressive before.

     “…It’s on?!” Then came Ben’s gentler voice. 

     “Good heavens. I make a deal with you to find who this blasted Murderer is and this is what happens,” Charlie supposedly mumbled, his voice louder as he came closer to the intercom (most likely to shut it off). 

     I slowly turned to face Thomas. 

     Teletubbies. Charlie. Ben. A deal. 

     “We should probably ask Charlie to explain what just happened,” I declared.

     “It was… a little concerning,” Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. “I… I’m going to go make some pickle juice now.”

     “Wait! Let me help you!” I followed closely behind the distraught man as he left me for the blender. I had never seen nor made pickle juice before. 

     “You don’t even like pickle juice, Scarlett.”

     Annnnd maybe I had an ulterior motive or two, too. “Well… don’t judge a pickle by its seeds?”

     Thomas eyes glowed with amusement. “Fine.”

     He paced over to the fridge, removing a list of steps and information held by a knife magnet before handing it me. “Salt. Vinegar. Sugar. Water.”

     When had he made that? Was that just… there? But there was no time to dwell on such minute details. 

     It was time for me to be a detective not of pickles but of murder— and a master chef. “So… how was your night with Coralie?”

     Obviously, I asked that while reaching for the saucepan.

     I noticed the way Thomas’ eyes widened while he worked the stove. “Uh… fine. She was a little late. We planned to meet around midnight. You and Ash?”

     “He didn’t leave my side for a moment,” I grinned, placing the saucepan on the stove before retrieving the ingredients. “Stayed with me before midnight! But I did fall asleep early in the morning…”

     Salt, vinegar, water, and…

     “The sugar, Scarlett. You’re forgetting the sugar. And Kosher salt is better.”

     “What?” I snapped out of my daze. “Oh… seriously? What’s the difference?”

     “No iodine. Iodine changes the taste,” Thomas explained, his eyes drifting to the saucepan. “Uh, can you put the water here please?”

     I did as he said and then got the Kosher salt, measuring it and setting it aside so that he could easily take it and put it in the saucepan. “So Coralie came a bit later?”

     “She didn’t come until half an hour later. First time she’s ever done that,” he mixed all the ingredients together, watching as the sugar and salt dissolved. 

     “Suspicious…”

      “It all depends on when Jacob was attacked. I’m sure Charlie’ll give us more information after dinner.”

     “You know, you look like Coralie just by making that pickle juice,” I smirked as he squinted at his mixture. He turned off the stove. 

     “She’s taught me a lot of things. Avoids the knives like hell though.”

     “I’d avoid the knives too. And hell.”

     “Me too. But it’s a shame I’ve never seen her put her skills to work with them. I could use some beef wellington…”

     “Don’t get greedy, Thomas; we’re in a murder mystery game.”

     “Yeah, yeah. Don’t think I don’t see you prancing around like a mini detective,” he turned to me with a grin.

     “I have the energy,” I grinned back.

     “We’ll see after dinner, detective.”

                                    ~
[External]

[Charlie]

     “Thank you, Charlie, it was… truly beautiful,” Ben wiped a tear from his eye, though I couldn’t tell if it was out of sadness or genuine amusement at what he had just watched.

     I never knew the Teletubbies could mean so much to a man. Much less a man who I had almost killed. 

     A man so sheltered by the world— no, by this evil cult of a corporation that the Teletubbies was his dark web and the dark web was his… eh, what’s that kids show called again? Cocomelon? 

     “Of course, Ben,” I looked down at the man who sat in my chair, his face glowing from amusement and from the colors dancing on the screen. “But, uh… the deal.”

     “Oh yeah, of course,” Ben nodded along, using the computer to search up God-knows-what wholesome content. Better that than the things I’ve seen…

     We were situated in Intercom Gal’s/his/my office, near the monitor room where Colleen and Spencer and Anna were helping with the post-dinner voting discussions. Austin was acting as our guard-- I'd expect nothing less of my  dear friend. I hoped none of them would walk in on us and witness this.

     “The Murderer, Ben. I need to know,” I repeated.

     He straightened up, cleared his throat. And then his eyes turned round as if he was about to cry a second time. “…Forgive me.”

     “What? Did you kill another co-worker of mine?”

     “No, but… in helping you, I confess I’m scared to risk my own life.”

     “I’ll take a bullet for you any day. Look, Ben, there are living people out there trying to break free from this game and I need to  find out who’s trying to kill them,” I channeled my inner nonchalant Austin behavior, placing a hand on the desk.

     Good heavens. Was that Peppa Pig playing? 

     “How do I know you’re being honest? I-I killed Dan, after all…”

     “If I wanted you dead, I’d have snapped your neck in the basement.”

     At this, Ben paled. After all, who had seen the golden boy leader figure so upset before?

     “O-Okay,” he nodded again. “I-I can tell you who the Murderer is—“

     “Charlie? Is that Peppa Pig playing on your computer?” Colleen, in all her elegance, said her words with such brute intensity unheard before. “The players need you for something!”

     “Goodness gracious,” I was at my limit. “Ben, tell Colleen who the Murderer is. I’ve got business to do.”

                                ~
[Scarlett]

     The room was dead silent as we awaited Charlie’s arrival. As embarrassing as it was, we were still stuck between the Murderer being Ash or Coralie. The evidence seemed to contradict itself: how could someone wearing Ash's typical clothing have Coralie's voice? Coralie did not have a change of clothes and Ash sure wasn't a voice actor. 

     But upon further inspection, Ash had no blood on his clothes. Apparently, the Murderer didn't even have a hat. Things were not looking so great for Coralie, but even  then, she claimed she was late to meet Thomas because she had slept in. 

     We needed Charlie to confirm or deny some of this controversial evidence. But while everyone seemed to immediately go into serious mode when he announced his arrival, I couldn’t help but think back to that Teletubbies announcement earlier…

     No, Scarlett. Work now, funny later.

     “Charlie, can you confirm that Jacob was attacked late in the night? Around, say, ten?” Sabrina looked up at the nearby camera, her eyebrows furrowed.

     “Ten… so roughly an hour after the lights went out?” Charlie muttered as we heard clicks from a keyboard. “Let me see… it seems that it was closer to midnight. Around eleven. You don’t have working clocks, do you?”

     “No,” Coralie shook her head. “They gave us... basically nothing.”

     "It's like they want us to lose," Thomas complained. 

     "That is the point," Charlie hummed. "But it stands that Jacob was attacked around eleven."

     "Was I with Scarlett?" Ash calmly asked, his gaze flicking to me. "I was with you for a while, wasn't I?"

     "Should be right," I mumbled.  

     Coralie sighed. "Well, I was with Thomas."

     "Well, you were late to meeting him. Isn't that right?" Ash turned to face her. 

     "I was asleep. Thomas can confirm how tired I was," Coralie sniffed.

     "She did look like she just came out of her bed," Thomas chuckled. 

     "Maybe the Murderer isn't Ash," Coralie shrugged. "But it sure isn't me. Just because we both have had our little mess-up's doesn't mean either of us is the Murderer."

     "But Charlie said--" Sabrina began.

     "I love the guy, but remember when he told us to vote out Anna? He's a mere human being, just like us," Coralie continued. "And you know what? I think this game is rigged. I'm not the Murderer, and the Murderer isn't Ash. It's an outsider."

     Oh, how I wanted to believe it was true. And it really did sound true, just for a hot second. Once again, Coralie had sent us spiraling into silence. 

     We were eating off her deductions. She was serving us a full-course meal. 

     "That... sounds... right," I slowly nodded. "Charlie, your thoughts?"

     "The intercom turned off while I was talking," Coralie's eyes raised to the intercom nearby. "Uh, Charlie, you there?"

     Silence. 

     "I think Coralie's right," Thomas stood by her side. "This game is rigged."

     "But then who do we vote out?" Sabrina questioned. 

     "Charlie?" Liza also eyed the intercom. 

      Still nothing. 

     Coralie pinched her nosebridge. "We'll get Charlie to bust us out of here or something. I can't believe we didn't realize this sooner."

     "He-LLO players of Flicker!" and then came that horrible, bright, murderous voice from the intercom. 

     Not the voice of the Teletubbies, Charlie, or even Ben. 

     It was the return of Intercom Gal. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 16 - Cruel and Unusual Punishment 

[External]

[Ben]

     "How've you all been doing?" Regan cheesily crooned into her microphone, sitting down without a sweat while so many other things occurred behind her.

     First of all, Charlie was restrained on the ground, beaten up and knocked out. Spencer and Anna had fled, leaving nothing behind  in their wake. I hadn't heard anything about Austin, who was supposed to be keeping watch. And Colleen, that woman I had tried to kill in my single attempt to be like the woman I had come to despise and admire and  revere so much, had  eyes on her back as she tried to rouse Charlie. 

     "Sorry I had to interrupt. But it's okay because you all missed me, riiiight?" Regan continued, not missing a beat. A part of me was envious at just how peachy she was about her job, about murder, about her conscience. Because unlike me, she could just sit down and watch the action happen— no need for thought. 

     I couldn't hear what the players were saying as ringing occurred in my pounding head. I had paled and retreated to a corner, where one of Regan’s (or rather, Flicker's) goons kept a strict eye on me. He appeared almost surprised that I had dared to partner with someone as disdainful as Charlie. 

     Nobody disobeyed the boss while living to tell the tale. But Regan wasn't Boss Jo and she was my cousin, so hopefully I'd be treated with much more mercy than the players.

     But at that thought, I scoffed and placed a hand onto my warm cheek. What was I, a coward? Why was the road to being a good person so hard?

     How could I be so pathetic? I scooted further into my pity corner. 

     "An outlier? Oh, no, no, no. You all are mistaken. The Murderer is in your midst, fooling you even now! You guys really do suck at deduction!" Regan giggled, practically spinning and bouncing in her seat. I wanted to roll my eyes. “I ought to punish you all! Just to spice things up since you've been here for, hm, seven days... I'll take a page from what our dear Broadcaster Ben did and allow the Murderer  to kill you all tomorrow if you vote out the wrong player!!!”

      At this, the players protested, their squeaks and shouts and begging all coming through the speakers near Regan.

    Typical. Oh, so typical for her. But my head ached as she mentioned me as the basis for her inspiration. My cruel act. First it was my hands that killed Dan, and then my mouth that had threatened to kill Colleen, and then I realized I’d never kill again.

     Killing everyone except the Murderer. Oh, how twisted Regan was. Charlie was right, but wrong, but right again. 

     He had no idea what kind of people these players were, but that didn't make killing them right. But maybe they deserved it. But was it still an action for us to make?

     To this, I know Regan and all of those people pulling at my pathetic strings would all nod and agree without a second thought. That was what Flicker stood for. Complete and utter justice the world had failed to enact for too long. We were justified in getting rid of the world’s scum. But what had anyone here done wrong?

     They'd never say. Even now, Regan never told me what these people were doing here. 

     “Oh, boo-hoo. What are you— my children? I have an audience to provide for, you know!” she shouted amid the shrill cries from the players. “Anyway, my point still stands. Vote ‘prudently’ and you stand a chance at living— I’ll even let you go. But choose wrong and the Murderer goes free. And then you all die!”

     “Where have I heard that plot before,” Colleen mumbled across the room as she sat next to Charlie’s limp —limp, not dead, I had to remind myself— body, to which the goon closest to her replied by kicking her side. She let out a yelp and I felt pity trickle into my soul.

     As my head started to clear, I began to catch on to what the players were saying.

     “Wait… so we have to vote tonight?!” Scarlett anxiously asked.

      “Uh, no. I’m going to be SO nice and give you all until tomorrow night to think it all over,” Regan folded her arms. “Because I also need to some time off to deal with these rebels you all are so fond of.”

     I heard some players release a sigh of relief. From experience, I knew relief was never a choice with Regan around. Didn’t they know that by now?

     Regan signed off of the intercom shortly after bidding them all a ‘horrible, murderous, bloody night’. I shut my eyes and tried to calm my breathing, only opening my eyes when I realized she had it out for Charlie, not me.

     “What a cute little man,” Regan snickered, staring at his unmoving form. “Shame he’s a part of the Revelation Foundation.”

     Her eyes drifted to Colleen. “You there. Girl. Bring his body to the cell in the basement. I have a fun night planned for him and I.”

     “How crude of you,” Colleen bit back, her eyes narrowed in an unfamiliar glare.  

     “Yeah, I’m crude. That’s what the E in my name stands for. Now bring his body or I’ll lock your friends in there with him. And Flicker knows what’ll happen to them,” Regan grouchily replied. “One slip of my hand and oops—! I might kill them all.”

     “You speak the devil’s lies!”

     “I probably am the devil. Actually, no. I’m probably God,” she winked at her.

     Colleen wrinkled her nose before continuing her show of defiance. “You take me, not him. For I’m a much better blasphemer.”

     Regan yawned. “No, I don’t think I will. You, guard with the bald head. Take this lady to the kitchen and have her make a sandwich for me. Per usual, I’ll do all the hard work myself.”

     A part of me wanted to shrivel up from second-hand embarrassment. Regan, being 'crude'. Regan, thinking herself a god. I’d rather die.

     But I realized death wasn’t so far off as Regan turned around and approached me. Somehow, just by visiting Boss Jo, she had gotten ten times meaner… and scarier.

      “My precious little cousin,” an expression of pity flooded the face that scorned Colleen as she crouched down and pinched my cheek. Even the guard watched in confusion at the sudden display of affection. “What have they done to you? Did they lock you in the basement and torture you?”

     Before I could even say a word, she embraced me. “Oh, poor and gentle soul… I should’ve taught you more things sooner. Flicker forgive me— how could I only teach you twenty two ways to kill?!”

     But then she pulled away and began snarkily laughing. “Oh, Ben. You’re not fooling anybody with your naive little displays. You were just like me when I was younger, always seeking to looked at as the good guy while you did anything but. Ohh, how they grow so fast.”

     “But I—“

     “I hope your interactions with that Charlie man have helped you realize how utterly biased, disgraceful, and hypocritical those Revelationists are. They truly are stupid, aren’t they?”

     “Uh—“

     “Come on, up. Up! We have work to do. We need to check if Charlie’s messed with any of my security systems. Especially my office computer.”

     Oh no. The one I had watched the Teletubbies on! 

      I wanted to curl up into a little ball and die.

     She took my hand and practically dragged me to the computer, slamming her hands on the keyboard to wake it up before causally entering her password: ‘NormalizeMurder12345’.

     Regan had always seemed obsessed with it. I remembered how she told me it was necessary in a society because it helped people take their anger out or something. Or about how it was right to act on the need for revenge. Or how death was something everybody had to experience, so why not be in control of who lives and dies? 

     Maybe it was because of the way she was raised, just like how I was. Charlie described our Flicker community as a cult, but… I couldn’t bring myself to think of it like that. We just had a unique philosophy. Right?

     Anyway… maybe it was because of how Boss Jo praised her every time she had finished broadcasting such mournful games to the world. Maybe it was because she saw some people as less than us, so therefore murder was the way to get such monsters out of society. That was justified. It was justice because monsters threatened humans. Never mind how. 

     I never believed in that part of our community’s manifesto. I thought everyone was equal because… people are people, and people are good. Even if some are just a little different. 

     Even if, just like Regan, I joined the outcry that screamed for those outcasts to die, that they were unworthy of life, that it was a mistake that they were born because I had to. Because if I didn’t, I would be one of those outcasts stripped of any sort of love or perfection. 

      Regan always liked to talk about how similar we were, after all.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17 - Justice 

[Intercom Gal - The Perfect Man]

     “Oh joy. I’ve finally caught the little mole messing with my game!”

     Charlie should consider himself blessed to still be alive (and in my glorious presence)! My voice rang through the basement cell, lighthearted and musical as I witnessed Charlie awaken in his ugly tall tufted beige chair. He just so happened to be bound, because, uh, I wasn't about to get knocked out like he did. Plus,  the best audience never strayed far from the chair. 

      That man could be strong. But at the moment, I was obviously stronger. That was just the way things worked around these parts. 

     Charlie remained silent, playing coy. He barely moved a muscle. I imagined he'd be sore from what the guard did to him.

     His eyes were trained on me, not bothering to stare anywhere else. 

     That was fine by me. It was kind of flattering, having all eyes on you. Especially the eyes of your enemy. How I loved the way he played up his whole facade, acting like Mr. Virtuous!

     “You’re messed up,” Charlie began after a while, when I had copied his silence and simply stared into his beautiful brown eyes. “Have you ever considered therapy?”

     “What for? I’m perfect just the way I am,” I batted my eyelashes at him. And to be honest, I was perfect the way I was. I was charming, a leader, smart… and I executed justice far better than the government did. 

     He raised his eyebrows and looked away, uncomfortable. It was only natural-- flawed beings shrunk away in the presence of perfection. Boss Jo had said it herself!

     “Let me ask you a question. How in the world did you manage to take over my game just like that?” I leaned forward, causing him to continue to look away. 

     "And why should I  offer you any information?"

     "It's my way or the highway, Charles."

     "Highway, please. And my name really is just Charlie."

     My eye twitched. "I'll call you whatever I please. And don't forget how precious your friends are..."

     Charlie didn't even blink. Typical Revelationist. 

     "Now you ought to  tell me just   how you managed to hijack my game... thanks to you, everything got just a little more interesting," I continued.

     "No, I don't  think I will."

     "So you really want  the highway? Buckle up  then-- it's a bumpy road."

     He wrinkled his nose at my constant road references, but I  couldn't help it when he was around. My flair came out for those who needed it: I wanted to  punch him and pinch his  cheeks and do all sorts of meanie things Ben (or at least, the Ben who used to be... oh, his Ich Luge play was HILARIOUS!) would never approve of. 

     I stood up and configured the projector I had  brought with me into the room. Charlie watched me as I did so. Oh, how he'd watch once I loaded the first tape.

     I was no liar. If Charlie wanted to do this the hard way, then it looked like he had to sit down and watch all twenty-nine fun, silly and joyous tapes I had prepared for him. 

     Never mind the disturbing content in them, meant specifically to expose the kind of the injustices I fought daily. If I could watch these tapes on loop, then so could he! 

     Meanwhile, I caught the tiniest flash of anxiety flash through his eyes. When you were a Broadcaster like me, no amount of fear escaped your sight. That flash alone gave me so much joy and excitement , because things would only get  so much better for me and so much more worse for him. 

     Oh, how I loved those torture tapes. 

     Hopefully, through them, he'd finally be on my side. 

                                                                                                                           ~

[Scarlett]

        "I never knew Matt was such a great singer," I hummed, laying on my back as Liza inspected her lantern for any traces of grime. Because of  how depressing tonight was, Matt decided to host a mini-concert for us and whipped out those mighty chaplain pipes. 

     He only really knew Latin hymns and ska jams, but hymns and ska were better than Intercom Gal's nasally voice announcing our probable death. Her voice seemed to always star in my newy formed existential crises.  

     "I know," Liza answered absentmindedly, wiping the lantern with the hem of her faded yellow dress. After, she looked at me --a starfish on my bed-- and smiled. 

     I loved it whenever she smiled. It was always too depressing in here. I couldn't stand to be in her  shoes and witness the Murderer's depressing acts. 

     It was all so sad. Despite her smiling, I sighed. 

     "You'll get your shot at stardom someday, Scarlett," Liza teased. I couldn't help but snort. 

     "You too, Liza."

     "Oh, no, I could never be a star. I... can't stand the attention."

     "It's always the medics who are humble."

     "Haha, not always... but maybe most of the  time."

     My eyes drifted to  her lantern. It's bright glow filled the room as Liza set it down on my nightstand. I blinked to help my eyes adjust to its orange hue. 

     For a moment, we allowed silence  to enter  the room. A moment  of silence, maybe for the dead, the killer, or maybe for ourselves. 

     "I think we're all going to die," I quietly confessed, my voice almost a whisper. I was  ready to laugh and cry all at once. 

     "Everyone dies someday," Liza nodded, her voice also dimming as she grabbed the wooden chair at my desk, lifting it up so she could sit at my bedside. I only spoke after she set  it down and sat on it. 

     "Never thought it'd be so soon. And hey, aren't you going to check on Jacob?"

     At the mention of his name, she stiffened. Her dark eyes widened for a brief second before she took a long, deep breath. 

     "I don't think he's going to make  it," she confessed. 

     And even though it was to be expected --he hadn't been able to do much since he was attacked, after all-- my throat still choked up, as if something crumpled and thick and ugly had dug its way into my throat and sat right where air should've gone through. Where words should have gone out. 

     "I tried," Liza continued, resigned. She looked down and shook her head. "I tried my best, but I know he's not going to make it."

     I knew I could never  be  in her place. 

     "I'll visit him when he's dead," Liza finished, her voice hoarse. 

     I wish I had never  spoke. 

     "We all die someday," I also looked down, not knowing what to say when despair clouded the room. Suddenly, the lantern's glow didn't seem so blinding anymore. 

     "It should never be at the hands of someone else," Liza whispered. 

     My mind returned to  the only suspects we had. Ash, Coralie. Those two names had been on replay in my head for way too long. 

     "Who do you think it is, then?" I tried  to draw the conversation away from the soon-to-be-dead man, because if Liza  was  saying he'd die, then  I was pretty sure he'd die. 

     "...I'm not the detective, you are."

     "Wasn't  Austin the detective?"

     "And just who's been taking the initiative to have all of these important discussions?" she joked, staring me down in the face. 

     "Fine... maybe you and Thomas are right. I do wear many hats after all," I winked at her. 

     "Survivor, bodyguard, detective..." Liza rambled on, probably also trying to distract herself from this disgusting grim reality. 

     "Okay, okay," I giggled. "Now tell me who you  think the Murderer is. Or else I might suspect you!"

     "I'm just a medic," she raised her hands defensively in jest. "But in all seriousness... I'm starting to believe  it's Coralie."

     "The cook..." my mind wavered between seriousness and silliness. 

     "Ash did have some excellent points. If she truly is proficient with a knife then I wouldn't be surprised that she could make such brutal cuts."

     "And Ash doesn't have the chops?"

     "...Scarlett."

     "Okay, okay. Silly mode off. Continue."

     "If Jacob was attacked around the time she was supposedly sleeping and Ash was with you, then who else could it be? Her outlier theory was already debunked by Intercom Gal."

     "But is Intercom Gal a reliable source?"

     "She's a mean and  cruel source, but a reliable one in the sense that she hasn't lied to us about the game mechanics… as far as we know," Liza rebutted.

     "How are you this smart this late?"

     "Maybe because I do not share your dreams. What was your latest one, by the way?"

     "I saw one of those gas lanterns get blown out. But then I also felt a gentle warmth, as if that lantern's light never really went out. Like someone was hugging me and telling me everything was going to be alright."

     "That's... relatively wholesome, considering the dreams you’ve had."

     "Hallelujah. I know, right?"

      A beat passed. Liza pressed on after I remained silent,  not wanting to think one second about tomorrow night. 

     "Anyways... do you agree with me? Do you think it could also be Coralie?"

     "I mean, since Ash was by my side until I fell asleep, I… guess that’s our only option,” I dreaded to admit it. Intercom Gal had said it: the game wasn’t so rigged as to have a cursed outlier murderer,  even if it was terribly against us Survivors. 

     I wished it were so, because  Coralie --or anyone we knew, for that matter-- being the Murderer came with a truckton of implications. It was so loaded, so heavy, that  I struggled to say anything else in case my conscience would condemn me. 

     Was it truly Coralie who had dunked Charlie in the toilet, stabbed Dan, suffocated Eva, attacked Jordyn, and mortally wounded Jacob? If it wasn’t, we were all dead. 

     Yet a strange pull in my heart begged it to not be true. It was the end of a journey neither Liza nor myself would dream of, but it also meant that Coralie… was the Murderer. 

     The Murderer. 

                                                                       ~

[External]

[Sabrina]

     Just when everything was getting better, it all seemed to go wrong. 

     “Jacob… please…” Hadn’t it only been a day since I said these words to a living man? “Wake up…”

     But I knew he was already dead. I should’ve known the moment he had asked to be my ally, all those nights ago. 

     This was a curse. If a God truly existed out there, then He sure hated me. 

     It should have been me. Not Charlie  --who knows if he’s  dead now?--, not Dan, not Eva, and now… not Jacob. 

     Matt rushed to his side, his body trembling as he tried to feel for a pulse. It was no use. 

     “He’s--”  Matt began, in all his naivety, as he whirled around to face me. But unlike him, I was already accustomed to death. 

     “I know,” I breathed, averting my eyes from his  concerned expression. Jordyn handed me a tissue and I immediately blew into it. 

    Why did I deserve to live and not these people? I was no saint. I was no leader. I was not worthy to survive while all of these people, my friends , died. 

     I did not deserve to live. So why was I still alive?

     Jordyn patted my back, sitting in her own chair by my side as her  other hand nursed the wound on her  abdomen.  She had managed to survive. Matt seemed to always have his eye out for her. 

     “I’m sorry, Sabrina,” she somberly muttered. 

     “I’m used to it,” my voice broke. “I’m used to it.”

     And that’s what I wanted to believe. But being accustomed to something and used to it were two different  things in my mind. 

     I would never feel familiar with death each time it robbed my friends of life, no matter how much of a routine it was. No matter how much I painstakingly expected it. Tomorrow night would be my final chance to destroy ‘death’ once and for all-- or, like all of my dear friends, die trying. 

     No matter who the Murderer was, they would be caught. No such brutality lasted forever, if there was any good in the world. 

     I stood up, letting Jordyn’s hand fall from my back as I took one last look at Jacob’s body. 

     No. This sadness would only strengthen my resolve. I did not know why I was still allowed to be here, but if justice were to be served, then may it be not through my own hands, but through the truth of it all. 

     It was time for this story to end. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 18 -  I Voted Today!

[External]

[Ben - A Gentle Soul]

     I didn’t know why Regan thought I had a huge change of heart ever since I had become a Broadcaster. All I did was play the bad guy one time. 

      One time. Yet  somehow I found myself with a bucket of popcorn in a spinny chair just like Regan’s in front of the monitor. 

     A front row seat to the voting discussions tonight. 

     And it was not going well for the players. 

     “Well, maybe she’s lying to us!” Coralie’s now  loud voice registered through her  speakers. Regan barely shot me a glance as she kept her eyes glued to the screen. She was, naturally, way more invested than I was. Watching all of these people turn against each other, becoming so secretive and poisonous… What was so entertaining about it?

     I was more invested in knowing why she hated our chef so much. Despite him ‘being French’, he knew how to make some good popcorn. 

     I was even more invested in knowing what had happened to… well, everybody else. Everybody I had allied with, everyone who had convinced me to help out the players. Especially Charlie. 

     Colleen reported screaming in the basement past midnight. And I knew the saint was no liar. 

     Regan practically choked on her laughter as she slammed her hands on the desk, watching the chaos go down. Coralie continued to insist on the Murderer being an outlier. Sabrina and the Twins still thought the Murderer was Ash, but some were starting to come around to Coralie’s side. Ash himself said little. Scarlett, Thomas, and Liza declared themselves unaffiliated with either party. An air of grief hung over everyone as they spoke. 

     The tenseness had only gotten worse since the morning. Everything seemed to have deteriorated ever since Regan announced her disgusting edict last night. 

     I could still remember the way everyone quietly sat at the breakfast table. Even in the worst of situations, that place would always be full of chatter, joyful or otherwise, from the day after the first murders until… today. Things hadn’t gotten better since breakfast, either. 

     Sabrina had locked herself away from everyone in her free time, mourning another devastating loss. Jordyn threw up, causing Liza to worry about her road to recovery. Scarlett’s allergies made a harsh comeback somehow. Matt and Coralie failed to cook anything edible. Ash and Thomas’ pickle juice drinking was interrupted by Thomas bursting into tears. 

     It made something in my heart churn. It wasn’t right. 

     I looked at Regan. Still, she didn’t spare me a glance. 

     She knew just as well as I did who the Murderer was. How that Murderer was playing everyone like a fiddle. 

     But unlike me, she didn’t see how wrong it was. 

     I was no pinnacle of morality myself, but I had learned a lot just by being a Broadcaster. The guilt after I had condemned Colleen to death ate at my insides. My conscience became little maggots hanging on bits and pieces of a throbbing heart. If Austin hadn’t intervened, I…

     I wouldn’t have killed her either way. 

     I couldn’t bring myself to understand what was so funny , so amusing , so happy about watching these people squabble and cry and mourn and scream. I was dumbfounded every time I was given the same excuse. 

      They’re all getting what they deserve .

     After Charlie had told me the truth behind this game-- how it started, how it grew, and how he planned for it to die, I couldn’t bring myself to see those words the same way I had before, when I had simply agreed that I was better  than these scummy beings and trusted Regan in  everything. Back when I had made an idol out of her. Back when I was still a disgusting, bloodied coward of a man. 

     Ever since I had killed Dan-- no, ever since I  had talked with Charlie, I loathed knives. 

     If they deserved all of this pain and suffering, why didn’t we? If they were unlucky enough to be bad people, then why weren’t we? What made us… the bearers of justice?

     “Oh, chef! Ben needs some more popcorn,” Regan called out, snapping me out of my thoughts. 

     “Oh, I’m good, Regan--” I began. 

     But she was already back to watching the game. The chef obliged to her command. I didn’t meet his eyes. After a few moments, I hesitantly lifted my gaze to the camera footage. This discussion had lasted for a good half hour already…

     “It's getting boring out here,” Regan mumbled as the players began to go in circles, retracing their steps to no avail. My eyes followed her gaze, landing on footage of Liza slapping Scarlett’s hand away from her hive-stricken face. 

     “Well, it's not easy to  be a player,” I also mumbled, trying to be brave just as Charlie had advised. There was no hiding around trying to fix myself anymore. 

     She turned to face me, her chair swiveling around. “I’m sure the audience would agree with you… and with me. I have to keep the action going, y’know?”

     “I’m sure you’ve given them enough,” my voice was a smidge louder now. 

     “You can’t tell me this is entertaining. Would you be  satisfied if this was your finale?”

      Finale… ? I thought this death game would  go on forever… Boss promised us it would. 

      “Maybe  guide them, then? Give them a little pointer? Encourage them to keep the conversation moving?”

     A beat. It seemed as though she was actually considering something I was saying. 

     “Keep the conversation moving…?” and then she smiled. A wide, ugly smile that warned me I had committed a grave error by speaking. By trying to interrupt someone as murderous and far gone as my cousin. My conscience returned, now striking my heart with a gavel to declare me guilty.

     She continued, her voice a mere whisper. “You’re a genius, Ben.”

      God save these players, was all I could think over and over in my head. What did I do? What  was she going to do? Was she going to keep the conversation moving for the players or… the audience?

     My breathing became restrained as my eyes  drifted to her left hand. 

     She turned the intercom on. 

     “This discussion has gone on for wayyyy too long. I think I might just kill you all if you don’t vote in the next ten minutes!” she cheerfully announced. 

                                                                                    ~

[Scarlett - AOL LUK?]

     Blow after blow. What was it with  that woman?! Always sounding so high and mighty from that intercom of hers… always messing with our brains, always messing with our emotions--!

     “Just don’t vote,” Coralie commanded  us all. “She knows the truth. She’s just denying it to make us scared.”

     “I don’t want to die,” Thomas groaned, burying his face in his hands. His stress was only exacerbated  by Ash’s words of comfort as he sat beside him. 

     “Not looking forward to dying after surviving a murder attempt,” Jordyn folded her arms. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy. “I’m voting Ash.”

     “A shame Scarlett and Liza couldn’t convince you,” Ash answered in response. “As it happens, I’m voting for Coralie.”

     If it were any other night before so many had died, I was sure all of us would follow along and do that, too. But somehow, just by being here now, he had lost all of his credibility as a leader. 

     “Just don’t vote. Seriously,” Coralie repeated. 

     “I don’t think any of us want to risk death, Coralie,” Matt gently replied, placing a hand on Jordyn’s shoulder. 

     “Does anyone have anything else they’d like to share before we vote?” Sabrina’s voice was quiet but firm.

     “No.”

     “Nah.”

     “Sorry for your loss."

     "Okay,” Sabrina nodded, looking down at her hands. I did the same, for some reason. Liza did, too. And before we knew it, we were all looking down at our hands. 

     It was kind of silly. But any sense of unity would have helped our situation.

     If we voted incorrectly, our blood was on our own hands, after all.

     Slowly, reluctantly, as if we were all dragged down by mud, —or something even worse: guilt— we all stirred and headed to the kitchen, where we could be able to vote using those silly voting tablets I had come to be so familiar with.

     Never had I hated tablets so much until now.

     I wondered if this— this simple act of clicking on someone’s name— would mark the end of our stories forever.

                                          ~

[External] 

[Ben - A Musing Soul]

     Despite how much I hated knives, I still kept one on me at all times. 

      It was routine. An annoying, superficial, and stupid routine from back when I was so Regan-like and young and naive, but routine nonetheless. And of course, Regan, in all her murderous wisdom, advised it.

     The night before Voting Night, (as Regan so lovingly dubbed it) I had debated whether or not to ditch it. After all, I hated knives now. I wouldn’t need to use one ever again. Not even for cooking.

     And yet the knife remained. Not the same one I used to kill Dan, but a knife. 

     It was a clean one. I always kept them clean. I hated the way blood would spatter onto their silver shade and remind me of what I had done.

     What a coward I was.

     “Ben,” Regan hissed into my ear after I had zoned out for the millionth time. “Ben! Look. Look at the votes!”

     I blinked. My attention fell from my popcorn and onto her laptop. 

     Oh.

     “A tie,” I murmured. 

     Four votes for Ash. Four for Coralie. I wondered who Jacob would have voted for. 

     Meanwhile, Coralie didn’t even believe in her own theory. I understood why.

      “A tie,” Regan agreed. 

     “So… what’ll you do now?”

     “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she flashed me one of her signature cheeky smiles as if I had said a silly little joke. But being in control of people’s deaths was, again, not at all amusing to me. “I’ll give them one more chance to vote. Oh, and I’ll add ten-- nah, just five-- more minutes to try and break that tie.”

     “And… if they don’t?”

     “There’s about twenty-two ways to kill them all just by pressing a button,” she shrugged, pointing to a bunch of buttons on her desk, looking grimy and dusty. I didn’t smile. 

     “Are you… serious?”

     “Nooo. I’m not. I can gas them, set the stage on fire, cause a collapse… you name it.”

     As much as I wanted to ask her if she’d really do that, I knew it wasn’t beneath her to do such a thing. I already knew, from all the times I had watched her scorn the living, mock the dead, and play God. 

     “...Are you sure you want to do this?”

     “Easy, Ben. I still have to make the announcement.”

     I took a deep breath. It’d be a miracle if she changed her mind. She turned on the intercom and started to go on her little spiel, and while she tried to hype it up, my mind drifted to other places. 

     So she wanted to end this the easy way, huh? I could do that too. 

     She knew twenty-two ways to kill eight people. 

     I knew twenty-two ways to kill one person. 

                                                                      ~

[Scarlett]

     It was over. 

     It had to be. 

     I took one last look at the people around me. Although I still believed the Murderer was Ash and would vote as such, my mind could barely keep up with what was going on. 

     Instead of taking in their words-- words of pain, comfort, pain, regret-- my mind was racing. I wanted to hide and run or scream and cry. I wanted to blow my  nose, because it was itching again from my annoying allergies. I wanted a hug from someone. 

     I wanted to live. 

     “I’ve stated my case,” Ash’s voice remained as neutral as ever. “Vote as you all will, but the evidence from Scarlett and Liza and myself has  been immense. Please, do not kill us all.”

     Coralie figuratively took the stand, too. “I agree. Please don’t kill us all-- and vote as you  will, whether you're on Ash’s side or not.”

     One person was all it took for us to die. 

     I began to cry, much to my embarrassment. I sniffled and rubbed my eyes and tried to pretend that never  happened. However, Liza noticed instantly and retrieved more tissues from the tissue box in Sabrina's lap. It was almost empty. 

     “Here,” she muttered, discreetly putting the soft things into my hands. 

     “Thanks,” I mumbled, blowing my  nose as Matt stood up, trying to form a smile. 

     “It was nice meeting you all, even if we must meet again in the next life,” he announced. Jordyn’s eyes remained trained on him until he finished. When he was done, she looked down at her torso and frowned. 

     “It can’t be  God’s plan for all of us to die,” I heard her  whisper to him. “If He is real, then maybe he’d want someone like you to live.”

     “Don’t say that, Jordyn. Every life is precious.”

     “And every life here’ll soon be gone if we vote wrong.”

     “I’m… confident in my vote.”

     “So am I. But it's a team effort.”

     Their voices lowered until I couldn’t understand them anymore. Thomas somberly took a swig of his pickle juice. 

     Why only now did five minutes feel like an eternity? Did it always feel like an eternity, knowing you were doomed to die such a horrible death?

     “Time’s up, my dear friends!! Let’s see these results…”’

     Guess who that was. The angel of death herself, Intercom Gal. 

                                                                             ~

[External]

[Ben - Just Like the Rest] 

     Every second of this night was causing my heart to ache. What little morality I had left screamed at me to do something , to be a man and stop her. I couldn’t bear to move. 

     I was a prisoner of my own body. 

     My head was starting to pound as I watched Regan turn to her computer to check the voting results. No matter what it was, I feared it would be a dead end. Literally, at that. 

     Her eyebrows scrunched up together. Her eyes squinted at the brightness of the screen that overwhelmed the dimmed monitor room. And then she smiled. 

     That smile told my body to stiffen further, to not let any ounce of displeasure show on my face, to not even move my hand to reach for my fresh batch of popcorn. 

     She didn’t even spare me a glance, once again. She simply turned on the intercom. 

     “Con- gratulations ,” she crooned. “It’s another tie. And you know what another tie means?”

     The players were dead silent. 

     The players were dead. 

     Not yet, of course. But so help us, they’d all be. 

     “Hello? Are we all forgetting?” she drummed her fingers over her desk. She knew just as well as I did that death was not something that easily fled from your mind. She waited a few more beats, opening her mouth to joyfully remind everyone right as someone answered. 

    “Just kill us already!” Jordyn shouted, facing a camera nearby. I noticed she was still nursing her wounded area, slowly attempting to stand. The amount of pity I felt couldn’t possibly have grown any further. 

     “Don’t strain yourself,” Liza immediately warned, standing up to support her. 

     “Well, hold your horses, car girl,” Regan taunted, her eyes falling to her multiple buttons of death. “I still need to decide how to kill you. Talk amongst yourselves.”

     Regan then turned to me as the players’ wide eyes all bored through the cameras. I turned to face Regan to avoid their pleading, desperate stares. I  hated when people stared at me. 

     “What shall it be, cousin?” she grinned. “Collapsing, gassing, flooding, exploding… It's your pick. Consider it a birthday treat.”

     I hesitated. Sweat began to form on my face. I didn’t want anyone to die. 

     She continued watching me. It felt like everybody was watching me nowadays. I thought I would explode-- it was only a few more seconds until my detonation. 

     I forced some words out of my mouth to appease her. “Uhh… why not keep them alive and, uh, torture them? I… know you love torturing people.”

     Her eyes glimmered and a cat-like smirk formed on her red lips. “A man after my own heart. How cute. I’d do that if this weren’t dragging out long enough.”

      “Uh…” blood be on her own hands, this evil cousin of mine! I couldn’t think straight at all. I could barely recall any thoughts from a second ago. “Your choice.”

     I wiped some sweat from my forehead, ignoring the feeling of the fabric of my clothes irritating my skin, making my body itch and want to crawl out of itself. I tried to ignore the way the knife was pressed against my leg, the cold metal failing to make the pain any better and only reminding me of who I was. Of who I used to be. 

      The cold dug into my skin. The frost of that tiny, thin knife. 

       For all that was good and holy in the world, that cursed knife. 

       And as Regan turned around to face the buttons again, I had an idea, a perfect opportunity, and a knife. 

     I had to stop her. I had to. Charlie, forgive me. 

     I took the knife out. She wouldn’t have known, or cared, that bloodthirsty woman. 

     She always said to go for the neck, after all.

     I stood up. 

     What was one unworthy life over many righteous ones? 

     I went behind her back. 

     I could save everybody.

     I could be a hero.

     I saw red. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 19 - Octave of Truth

[Scarlett - A Survivor’s Dream]

     The intercom exploded.

     Well, it didn’t really explode, but it sounded like someone had just slammed their entire body onto the microphone just to spite us. It was like laughter from the very depths of the earth itself, coming to mock us because we were just so incredibly stupid.

     Maybe this is how we die, I bitterly thought to ourselves. We’ll die by Intercom Gal slowly breaking every bodily system we’ve ever known until we’ve melted into muddy, crying human slop.

     Morbid, I know. But she was just that morbid. This whole rigged game was just so… morbid.

     The next sound we heard was something heavy being shifted off of the intercom. Okay, so many Intercom Gal dropped her chicken nuggets on the thing. That still didn’t change the fact that death was inevitable.

     “Sorry, folks!” 

     An unfamiliar but familiar voice rang through the intercom. Why was it always the intercom bringing the craziest plot twists? 

     Liza immediately locked eyes with me. We both knew who that it was. In fact, so did everyone else.

     What in the world just happened?

     “Just experiencing some… minor technical difficulties there,” Ben nervously chuckled, his voice getting closer. We heard the sound of him smacking his hands together, probably wiping something off. “How’s everyone doing? How’s the voting?”

     “Terrible. We keep tying,” Jordyn grumbled, leaning against the wall. “Also, we’re going to die in five minutes.”

     “No, actually. As I live, you will live,” Ben announced casually, although he stammered a bit at the end. “Because I know who the Murderer is.”

     Gosh. The big reveal. 

     “Are you lying?” Sabrina looked up at a nearby camera. “How do we know you’re not simply going to torture us more too, huh?”

      “Testing me too, huh? Certainly Colleen’s presence on the intercom earlier shows you that, uh, I’m not like Regan— er, Intercom Gal,” Ben explained, trying to force out an assertive tone. Truth be told, he was doing well.

     “…Right,” Ash nodded, his eyebrows furrowed. “Well then. Go on and free us. Tell us who the Murderer is.”

     Everything had happened so quickly that I felt the sudden urge to break into tears. Matt was already praying. Jordyn was looking at him like he was crazy.

     But the joy left as quickly as it came when Ben continued, “Are you ready?”

     Because, as I looked around the room, my hands interlocked with Thomas and Liza, —people I had known as my allies, no, friends— I remembered that one of us was the Murderer. More specifically… oh, you know their names already. 

     I shook my head and squeezed Liza’s hand. She gently did the same. Thomas shot me an encouraging, lopsided grin. I did the same.

     I wasn’t ready— I would never be ready. But that didn’t mean we needed to be.

     We had to escape. We had to get out of here once and for all. 

     “The Murderer is…” 

     As Ben continued, Coralie and Ash locked eyes. Both of their expressions were void of any emotion. One of them had known the other was the Murderer all this time while we were sitting ducks, either denying reality or being unaware of it.

     Ben paused. 

     He took a deep breath. 

     “It’s Coralie,” he finished. 

     And doing the only thing I could, I grabbed the unlocked tablet of doom once more and voted her without a second thought. 

                                            ~

     It was only after the lights shut off and she disappeared that I had realized what I— no, what I’m sure most of us— had done.

      All energy seeped out of my body. I could barely breathe, much less think. I leaned against the kitchen counter with my head pounding and with all the food I had reluctantly eaten sitting in my stomach like rocks. I was just about ready to throw up.

     I also sneezed. Because even if the Murderer went away, my allergies wouldn’t.

     Of course they wouldn’t. 

     It was as if Ben read from a script as he continued, his voice barely containing his excitement. “Correct. The Murderer has been identified as Coralie. Congratulations, players, you have won Flicker. You are now allowed to exit…”

     Was this a dream? Was I really alive, or was this something I was watching from outside of my body? Was I dead or something? 

     …No. It couldn’t be. This… this was no lie. Not from the way my own eyes saw a door that I didn’t even know existed— it was the wall that bore a singular, mini square window— to everyone’s right swing open. Not from the way I saw the walls nearby lift up like garage doors to reveal the night before us. Just what in the world was this architecture?

     But oh, how it was the night. I could hear crickets and gasps and crying in front of me and to my left and to my right as I sank to my knees in exhaustion and relief that it was finally over, and that even if it seemed like we were in utter darkness, it was nothing compared to what we had just been through. 

     Gosh, I hadn’t been outside in ages.

     Immediately Liza, Ash, and Thomas were at my side, saying things I could barely comprehend as they tried to hoist me up. Jordyn and Matt began laughing and embracing. Sabrina smiled from a distance, sorrow still lingering in her expression. 

     Only seven of us were here, after all.

     Only seven of us were here, out of how many entered. But Austin, Colleen, Spencer, Anna… they were also alive. Maybe not here, but alive.

     And that was… enough. As Jordyn and Matt called out to us and as Sabrina led them towards us, I felt as though it would have to be enough. 

     Many flames had gone out over the course of this terrible game, but we had made it. 

     Maybe we’d keep burning in their honor. 

     “Go on,” Ben announced, his tone restrained. “Charlie’s provided you all with some premium transportation from his… uh, ‘company’.”

     “He’s rich?!” Jordyn exclaimed, her eyes widening as Matt stifled a chuckle. Sabrina patted Jordyn’s shoulder and shook her head with a smile. 

     “…He’ll explain later. And we’ll catch up with you all. Before you all go home, you’ll—“ his voice went quiet. “Oh, you want me to wait? No, yeah, that makes sense. Uh, get into the cars, guys! The cars down the road! They’ll explain the ending to you.”

     “Because cars can do that, apparently,” Jordyn muttered, nudging Matt. Then she looked at all of us with a bright grin, relieved of any tension that it had bore just a few hours ago. 

     We all looked at each other. We had all come to know each other so dearly, that just by looking we could register everyone’s apprehension, hope, concern, determination. 

     My heart fluttered in my chest. Gosh, somehow we really were alive. 

     Yes, it was enough. For now, life truly was more than a dream. 

     I cut through the silence. “You all ready to go?” 

     And even if weren’t, we began to walk. 

     I didn’t want to ask any more questions right off the bat. Obviously, we weren’t ready for that— and at that moment, did questions really matter?

     We had our answer, after all. We had survived.

                                            ~

[External]

[The Murderer - Mercy (A Reprise)]

     So why had I done it?

     Why did I kill all of those people?

     Perhaps my own friends in this bloodthirsty game would never get to know the answer. Some, in part, because they were dead.

     Because I, Coralie, killed them.

     Because unlike that Intercom Gal, unlike Ben, —who also had blood on his hands just like I did— I was merciful enough to do so.

     I didn’t kill Dan. I didn’t know who did. I only ‘killed’ Charlie. And even then, because of my mercy, he won. 

     I didn’t regret my decision. 

     I didn’t regret any decision.

     Eva was too good for this world. So— I brought her out of it.

     I could have done even more good if Liza had let Jordyn, and by extension Matt, die. My two dear friends, having to suffer even more... it hurt my soul. 

     Meanwhile, Jacob was ruining my name, accusing me like that in Sabrina’s room. And anyway, someone as arrogant as him ought to be killed. Better to be outed by someone like Charlie than someone with an inferiority complex who hid behind Sabrina all the time. 

     How pathetic it would have been if I didn’t cause that grand finale. If I hadn’t played such a big role in turning the tide.

     It was all so worth it. Because in the end, my actions brought everyone hope.

     Who’s to say I was in the wrong, then? 

     Ben or Charlie or any of those voted-out people could condemn me and call me guilty for what I had done, but it was only through me they were able to do that.

     After all, if I had wanted everyone dead, I would have killed them all when we first met. 

     My eyes raised to face Ben, my judge of sorts, as he quietly conversed with Charlie, probably regarding what they’d do with this humble little waitress. 

     I could cook, and I certainly could kill. And it was no surprise I was chosen for this  game, given the players. 

     They all needed some mercy, after all.

                                                                     ~

[External]

[Ben]

     “...The matter is settled. We’ll have Coralie prosecuted and justice will be served,” Charlie leaned closer to me, his eyes landing on the Murderer herself as he lowered his voice even further. Although he was back in action, with Colleen recovering him from the basement in secret, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with him. 

     “Of course,” I nodded, going along with whatever he said. I couldn’t bear the thought of any more murder, because, by all means, I was a murderer now, too. 

     I stifled a gag just thinking about Regan’s corpse. Anna had already buried her. 

     Somewhere, my cousin’s body lay in the ground with a fatal cut on her neck and a few stab wounds in her heart— God knows what else I did. Somewhere, my cousin lay dead. 

     I averted my gaze from Coralie. I could never understand what went through her head when she killed someone. 

     It was impossible. 

     “You should get going,” Charlie added, his voice slightly off. It was… cold. Sharp, maybe. “I’ll handle the rest.”

     “I… are you sure?”

     “Go and meet with the others. Get into a car with someone. Trust me."

      “Uh… okay.”

     Without another word, I turned around and did as he said.

     Almost.

     I headed down the hallway and took a sharp right— one with a wall closest to the monitor room, where Charlie still was. I walked down further but creeped back to where I could hear the loudest with silent footsteps to misdirect him.

     This felt wrong.

     But I wanted to know what Regan, while alive, had done to him. And if this would give me any clue…

     “Coralie —I couldn’t quite catch her last name—, do you confess to murdering Eva Stilhan and Jacob Caruso?” he began in a small, firm voice. 

     “I confess to all of it, ‘Your Honor’,” she sneered back in reply. I couldn’t see her face, but I imagined she was smirking back at him. Like Regan would have.

     “I am not your judge,” he responded coolly. “I just needed to know.”

     “Of course, of course.”

     “Do you understand the consequences of your actions? Did you do these actions with full consent, and total knowledge, knowing that the murder of these, while flawed, human beings is a grave matter in the eyes of the law and in the eyes of your conscience?” 

     “…Yes.”

     “Why the hesitation?” his tone grew colder. 

     “Was it really that bad? As you just said, none of them were free from sin.”

     “Neither are you.”

     “Someone has to do something.”

     “The only reason why I ask is because I was once like you. When I had learned who the killer of Dan was, I felt the urge to simply kill them in return. You understand the feeling, don’t you?”

     “What? You think a novice like you can stack up to me? Look, Charlie. I kill for more dignified reasons than revenge.”

     “Pray tell?”

     “It’s merciful. I, the judge, decide who among them is worthy enough to flee from the game and enter into whatever lies beyond this world. And if someone is so unworthy to continue living, I will simply kill them.”

     “No wonder why they chose you.”

     “I know. I truly was the best choice.”

     “I’m hearing ‘god complex’.”

     “I’m no god. But my choices make or break everything.”

     “Any grave decision can make or break anything. You’re not special. Everyone has the gift of free will.”

     “I’ve made more grave choices than Scarlett’s made choices in her lifetime.”

     “…I understand you’ve met everyone before, yes?”

     “Yes, before the game. Back when I ran through different identities. A nursing assistant here, a gambler there… oh, I’m sure you know the gist.”

     “Yes, I do. And what were your deductions?”

     “They all deserve to be in Flicker. But in some being here, they’ve redeemed themselves. Eva truly got the chance to change her ways when she left that environment.”

     “Ah. The gambler.” 

     “It truly wasn’t her fault. I’d have burned the whole casino down if I wasn’t on the run.”

     “I don’t recall asking. And you won’t be burning anything down for a long time.”

     “I knowww. But cut me some slack, okay?”

     “No. Moving on…”

     “Ben?” Anna whispered from behind me, causing me to jolt from where I was standing. I made a tiny squeak that caused her to quietly giggle.

     “Ah, yeah, hey, Anna,” I awkwardly waved. “I’m… not supposed to be here right now.”

     “Then get going, silly goose,” she teased. “Those cars can’t wait forever, you know.”

     “Yeah…” I nodded. I silently but reluctantly snuck away from the monitor room, looking back just one last time.     

     Just what in the world did the future hold?

Chapter Text

Chapter 20 - Late Night Driving 

[Scarlett]

     I sat with Liza in the back of a black, sleek car. The only thing I was able to do was stare out the window with my eyes wide and my mouth agape because for once in my life I finally saw the stars. 

     I had always lived in the city, and no matter how hard I tried, I never seemed to catch them. But here, out where only God and Charlie and the drivers knew where, they were like little bright specks in the sky, illuminating our path as we reached a highway. 

     It was strangely empty. Eerie, almost. 

     And it would have been if Thomas wasn’t yapping in front of the car, asking questions, and joking with the (rather amicable) driver whose name we didn’t bother to ask for. We were still riding high off of the adrenaline that came from somehow surviving Flicker. 

     Anyway, the driver. She’d laugh at all his jokes and even told him she enjoyed drinking pickle juice, which instantly secured his favor. 

     She also answered any question that came to his silly, goofy head. I was somewhat surprised to hear him ask the same questions that lingered in the back of my mind like some rotting stench. 

     Who was Coralie, exactly? Some on-the-run vigilante working with the likes of Flicker. (Nothing shocking there.)

     What were we doing in Flicker? The most likely scenario was that we were deemed unworthy of living and were taken in to be killed. (So, the Saw movies…? But not…?)

     Where were we going? At this question, the lady paused and quickly eyed the area around her. (Still no other cars. How strange.)

     “I’ll be taking you two to a hotel managed by Mr. Cha- er, your friend’s… ‘association’,” she answered, one hand on the wheel as she straightened her back. “From there, we’ll get you all situated and provide any services you may need in getting back home.”

     “Like therapy?” Thomas and Liza asked in unison. I  finally tore my eyes away from the window and stared at them both. 

     Not to judge. After what we all just went through, it was a valid question. 

     “...Sure,” the driver slowly nodded as the car continued to zoom forward. She’d kept up a good sixty to seventy miles per hour for the past few minutes. I was getting nauseous. 

     “Where’s all the other cars?” Thomas murmured, leaning forward and squinting out at the front window. 

     “Ah. If you mean your other friends, they’re taking a different route. For safety reasons,” she replied, her voice low and quiet. 

     “No, I mean… where are all the other people, in general?” he added as we crossed a rather bumpy highway bridge. The acidic tang in my throat only worsened. Liza shot me an inquisitive look. 

       “...This is an abandoned site. All of this… this bridge, this city, these roads… abandoned. A looong time ago.”

      “What?”

     The bridge creaked under us. I looked in the window and saw a pale, unkempt Scarlett looking back at me and at the city behind us that looked like any other one at night. Minus the lights. But cities had been like that for a while. 

     “By all means, it's not safe here. Just to let you all know.”

     “You’re kidding,” Liza spoke for the first time since we entered the car. “Why not take us any other route?”

     “Word spreads quickly in the Flicker community,” the driver’s eyes sharpened. She furrowed her eyebrows as she quickly swerved right and off the bridge. Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. 

     Thomas groaned and dramatically slumped back in his seat. He even used the car’s mechanics to slightly recline. “We are so dead.”

                                                                       ~

[External]

[Charlie - Anathema]

     I decided to deal with Coralie myself. We sat in my car and I avoided meeting her heavy gaze at all costs. 

     “Nice car you got here,” she smirked. She had the gall to use my heat-seating. She even snatched the blankets in the back despite the cuffs. 

     I can’t believe I let her. 

     And when she saw I didn’t respond, (I hadn’t spoken ever since I set the vicious Murder House aflame-- making sure all evidence and people inside were out, of course--) she simply continued speaking. “So you really did sympathize with me, huh? You really do miss all the truffles I made for you.”

     I gritted my teeth and continued driving. I made truffles by myself, too. She was on her own. 

     Why had I done this? My thinking was still clouded over by those devilish tapes Intercom Gal had shown me… I resisted the urge to shiver. 

     Still, better for Coralie to use whatever leftover murder tactics she had on me than on someone else. She couldn’t kill me if she tried. 

     “I can make you some more if you let me out of here,” she continued, her voice its casual, rough tone. She was probably bored, despite the fact that she had all of the blankets and access to all of my items hiding in the crevices of the car. 

     I tried not to blush when she found all of my tiny stuffed animals tucked away in the compartment in front of her earlier. Better stuffed animals than my personal, private documents

     I should have let her stay in the back. But at least I  got to keep a better eye on her here, just like she said. 

     Recovering from torture felt like torture. 

     “Come on, talk to me,” she groaned, wrapping the plaid blanket --my favorite one, too-- around herself. I bet Eva would’ve liked that rather than being choked to death. I bit back a scoff and increased pressure on the pedal. 

     I had no need to answer to murderers. 

     But after she saw my scrunched eyebrows, the way I leaned forward and stiffened, and how  fast we continued driving, she considered that an answer enough and smirked again. “What’s got you so upset, golden boy?”

     That was such a horrible nickname. I took a deep breath and slowed the car down as we neared a bridge with a few cars traveling through it. 

      She sighed again and picked up my tiny palm-sized plush toy. My starfish. Charlie Simmonson Jr.

     Goodness gracious. 

     “I’m gonna name you… Truffle Cake Senior,” she murmured, poking his tiny beady eyes and squishing his face and slamming him in between her cracked hands. “And I’ll talk with you instead, because clearly your owner is mad at me right now. Just  because I killed some people.”

     Goodness gracious.

     I had to get her to that facility now. I couldn’t believe I was witnessing a murderer cradle my starfish as she sat in a pile of my blankets.

     I hated how ridiculously normal— ah, rather, casual she was. She was too far gone to even muse on her conscience like Ben. If it were him in the car, he’d be silent and mourning Intercom Gal-- er, Regan. He’d be asking me all sorts of questions about truth and morality and the Revelation Foundation. I’d certainly prefer that over the lady over there with my starfish.  But she was too used to the feeling of blood on her hands, perhaps, to bother to feel anything about it.

     That thought alone was slightly horrifying. The fact that any person —after all, who started off as a murderer in the first place?— could easily transform into so great a beast that they become apathetic to morality, twisting it to suit their own version of reality… was something almost no soul was free from. It could’ve been me, after all. 

     I could have been the one measuring the scales of justice and declaring they were wrong, just like her. Perhaps we were on different sides of the same coin…

     I sighed again. Those heavy thoughts —the ones that shaped the way I saw reality— were the only thing keeping me sane against whatever Intercom Gal put on that screen.

     “I think he’s getting philosophical again, Truffle Cake Senior,” Coralie crooned, cradling my baby starfish. “After all, the car is speeding up again.”

     I slammed my foot on the brakes. 

                                                                   ~

[Scarlett - In Life]

     For what seemed like an abandoned hotel, the place was absolutely gorgeous. Enormous marble statues stood on either side of the red carpet our little group was walking on, depicting creatures, random people, and women holding tiny  babies. It was kind of endearing. But also really creepy. 

     For one, it was almost completely dark. Every  time I saw one of the big babies in the big statue mother’s arms, I flinched. The driver, whose name we learned was  apparently Natalie, led the way as  we veered left slowly trudged up a rather majestic white staircase with chipped paint and turquoise railings. It spiraled up to the left side of the building while another that looked identical but also as worn spiraled right. 

     Thomas whistled. “You know, I wouldn’t mind living here.”

     “Oh, you sure would,” Natalie grinned and said back, walking past several rooms with their numbers still on them. I resisted the urge to shiver. “After all, the reason this hotel closed down was because of persistent investigations due to a Flicker game nearby.”

     “Why exactly are we here then?” Liza immediately questioned, flanking my side. I looked down at her. She looked up at me with a slightly displeased expression. 

     Natalie stopped in front of a large wooden door. “Because believe me, Flicker games are getting all too common no matter where you go.”

     “Isn’t the government supposed to… oh, I don’t know, stop  that?” Thomas looked up and feigned nonchalance. 

     “I’m sure you know just as well as I do that a newly installed government has more challenges than to stop a random vigilante group among hundreds,” Natalie shrugged and unlocked the door with a rusted golden-colored key. “Plus, they know there’s other vigilante groups out there fighting them.” 

     The door slowly creaked open and revealed…

     A normal looking room. Yeah, pretty normal. Still no lights though. 

     Natalie opened her duffel bag and tilted her head towards it. “Grab yourselves some flashlights. We’re staying here tonight.”

     “So we couldn’t have stayed in some other fancy and not creepy hotel? One that’s, maybe… operated by your little company?” Thomas half-jokingly asked. “You know, I kind of thought there’d be more people here. Like… your coworkers. To give us therapy.”

     “In a few hours,” Natalie replied, going further into the room. “So, in the morning.” Her flashlight revealed two relatively clean-looking and made beds. 

     “Hm,” Liza squinted at them with skepticism. She followed Natalie and moved her flashlight to the back of the room, which had a large oak desk and a chair. She moved to the right and turned to face the corner, exposing a vanity with broken glass and some drawers that were the same dark color as the desk. 

     “Hm,” Thomas imitated with the same cadence as he moved close to the door again, staying near me. He turned left and was met with a door. He flinched. 

     “What? It's just a door, silly,” I gently elbowed him, going in front of him and opening it. 

     It stank. I forgot abandoned places didn’t have adequate plumbing. 

     Natalie immediately pinched her nose as she strided towards us. “I forgot to tell you all to not open the bathrooms… I can offer you many services, but not a shower.”

     I sighed. Thomas followed. Liza continued investigating, checking the bedsheets for any dust. 

     The dust. Oh, gosh. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to sleep tonight. I had shivers just thinking about the basement back at the Murder House.

     …The Murder House. I didn’t want to think of what could have happened to it once everyone evacuated. 

    Instead, I looked back up at Natalie, who was continuing to tell us about how we would all get home. And also how we would stay in contact with the ‘company’ she worked at, which was the Revelation Foundation. 

     Sounded pretty normal to me. But would home still be home? Would it feel like home after being stuck in some dusty old house with several other people, some who died?

     Probably. But I wouldn’t be the same. 

     “I hope we can still stay in contact with each other… but what in the world are we supposed to tell our families?” I mumbled, looking down at my worn shoes. I was tired of having the same clothes on for a week.

     “Other agents— ah, comrades, have already contacted your families,” Natalie offered me a heartfelt smile, but I couldn’t tell if it was genuine. “As for right now… I’ve got some cold chicken for us to eat.”

     “Yay!” Thomas cheered while Liza raised an eyebrow and flatly asked, “Eat where?”

    “At the desk,” I suggested, pointing to the desk in the back of the room. 

     “Okay,” Liza conceded. I heard her stomach grumble as we all sat or stood around the desk. Natalie brushed aside some of her blonde hair and took out an enormous bucket of chicken. Of course, she also took out some gravy. Three little cups, in fact. 

     “Go on,” Thomas whispered to Liza. “Be like Matt and say a blessing over it.”

     Natalie chuckled and opened the bucket. “Voilà.”

     I watched as Thomas practically dove for the chicken as Liza snatched his arm.

     “Have some temperance, Thomas,” she chided. “At least thank Natalie first. And maybe I will bless the food, hm?”

     Natalie and I quickly glanced at each other. 

     “This the usual?” she asked me. I noticed she also had an accent like Charlie, but it was less sharp. Maybe she came from the same city I did. 

     “Basically,” I nodded. “It happens when you’re stuck in a Murder House with a bunch of other people.”

     At the mention of the Murder House, Natalie’s eyes glimmered with a hint of interest and sorrow. In the blink of an eye, however, it was wiped and she flashed a smile, grabbing some chicken. “I bet.”

    I looked around at all of us at this large desk, eating away without a care in the world. Because for the first time today, we didn’t have any. 

     Our first night of freedom and we were eating chicken in some scary, abandoned hotel. 

     Life was good. Because at least it was life. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 21 - Future, Past, Present 

[External]

[Jordyn - Post-Exile]

     Despite being so far from home and anything familiar (even that smelly Murder House), some things never changed. 

     “Jordyn, stop,” Matt could barely keep his eyes on the window because every time he looked away, I snuck just one more bite of my delicious little frozen yogurt pop. It was a familiar scene, just like when we were kids. He was always bossing me around (respectfully, obviously), telling me to pick up my trash or clean up my mess. If only we could go back to those times…

     “I haven’t had a good meal because of how sick I am,” I sighed, feigning despondency. “Just look at me. How am I supposed to heal from my almost fatal wounds if I keep throwing up my food?”

     “At least use a tissue or something,” he mumbled, grabbing a handful of tissues from the tissue box nestled in the middle seat. Of course, I got all the blankets. According to the driver, all cars came with those and heat-seating, so at least Matt wasn’t too cold. He continued. “Don’t make a mess in someone else’s car.”

     And someone else’s car it was. The driver in front of me said absolutely nothing unless we had prompted him or asked a question. He was concise and blunt-- great for me, but awkward for Matt. Apparently, the blank-faced driver was a foodie too because the passenger seat in front of Matt had a cooler full of delicious delectable sweets. Like my frozen yogurt pop. 

     I tried to pay no attention to how bizarre it all was. First I almost died, then we all almost died, and now… I was eating good and not murder-themed food. Sweets, at that. I rarely had such expensive things.

      In fact, I had no idea what to think about any of it. So I just ate, laid back, and let Matt do the talking. Per usual. 

      All I wanted right now was to get back home. I had siblings to take care of. And cars. 

     “Hm. So, Mr. Driver, how’s your night been?” Matt awkwardly smiled. He seemed to avoid the man’s icy glance as he briefly looked up at his interior rearview mirror that reflected Matt sheepishly nibbling on his ice cream pop. My cousin had some sprinkles on his face. 

     “Fine. Yours?” the man’s eyes returned to the road shortly after. Matt rubbed the back of his neck and snatched a tissue to dab at his face. 

     “Better.”

     “Good.”

     I resisted the urge to snort. I ought to have asked the man for his name. 

     Matt turned to face me again, raising an eyebrow as if to ask me if I had any questions. I shook my head and continued eating. He nodded and looked out the window once more. Stars twinkled in the sky. It’d been a while since I’d seen some. They never showed up, even in the towns...

     After a few seconds, I spoke up, curious. “Where we are heading?”

     It took the driver a few seconds to register that I was asking something. “The countryside.”

     “...Not to our town?” I took a final bite of my pop and saw my confused face in the interior rearview mirror looking back at me. I looked silly with my frozen yogurt mustache. I quickly licked it off. 

     “Well, no.”

     “Why?” I pressed on, my voice scratchy. I prayed I wouldn’t get a cold or something. Life was no fun for me or for my siblings if I was out sick. (And plus, those kids couldn’t make soup to save their own lives…)

     “We’re required to give you some information before you return to your normal lives.”

     “Can’t you just tell us now?” this was the chattiest I’d been in weeks. It was mostly for Matt’s sake. I didn’t want him to be scared. 

     Even if he was the one who liked all the rural stuff better. I had always been more interested in mechanics. Every time I saw him try to farm when we were younger, I laughed. Every time I tried to fix our wagons or tractors, he giggled. 

     “It's not safe here.”

     Safe my foot. I hadn’t been safe since the day I’d been attacked by… by…

     Coralie. 

     Matt always loved to preach about loving your enemies, but that one… she was a real pain in the neck. Or the side. Especially the side. One part of me rejected the thought that someone as amicable and lax as her was the one who would eventually stab me like it was no big deal. 

     The first person Matt and  I had interacted with in that cruel, cruel game. 

     “Who’s going to listen to us? The radio?” I scoffed, switching my thoughts from that horrible woman to my own kin. “Look, I have some siblings I need to get back to--”

     “I’ve personally contacted all five of them. They’re fine.”

     Matt’s eyes broke away from the window and settled onto me. 

     “And Matt’s little school friends…? School people—ah, teachers?” I added,  already exhausted from speaking so much. Maybe that was a side effect of almost dying…

    “Yes, yes. We’re very thorough.”

     “How long will we be staying in the country?” I squinted at the driver again. He sighed. Matt, on the other hand, gave me an earnest smile as if to tell me to settle down. 

     “Overnight.” 

     “After that?”

     “Home.”

     As it should be. I kicked back and put another blanket over my head. I reclined my seat very slightly so that  Matt wouldn’t notice and tell me to readjust it so I remained somewhat alert. 

     “I’m sure everyone will be fine,” Matt lowly murmured to me. “They’re not really kids anymore, after all.”

     Easy for us to say. Our own sets of parents were just looking to get us out of their house, at least to some extent. Mine were just a little more eager…

     “I want to be there for them as much as possible,” I firmly but quietly responded. “Even if they get sick of me, at least I’ll be there instead of that Murder House.”

     “Okay,” was all Evan said back. Because he understood. He knew what I wanted, and he wanted the same. 

     The hardest part of coming back home was the road to get there. 

                                                                     ~

[External]

[Sabrina - Mercy]

     The driver I had been paired with was an interesting lady. She was one that told stories as we traveled through bridge after bridge, tunnel after tunnel. And it wasn’t anything sorrowful-- it was old philosophical tales about true and sacrificial and sappy love. To some degree, it was repetitive. 

     But I didn’t mind. Any sort of relief from the sting of reality was fine by me.

     “And the woman thought to herself, ‘Perhaps everyone’s outlook has been wrong the whole time. If we were to, say, accentuate the positives-- emphasize these right choices, and offer them for those who have been so wrongfully excluded from making them due to who they were, maybe the world would be a better place,’” the driver continued her little story-- the fifth one, at this point, because I kept asking her to do so since she had such a suave and calming voice--. “But at the same time, she pondered whether or not such a thought-- the thought that any sort of reform was possible in this world-- was naive.”

     Sometimes, I pondered the same. Especially regarding the outcome of Flicker. 

     Justice had been served. Perhaps that was too naive, too simple of a statement. But  Danielle, the driver, had promised me that her boss Charlie would see to it. 

     I had seen Coralie’s downfall with my own two eyes. The way she silently accepted her fate the same way everyone else had been forced to at her own, blood-stained hands--

     Danielle took a look in her rearview mirror and increased the speed of her car and the speed of her speech. My mind struggled to keep up as she continued to share the character’s rather romantic outlook on life. “She paced through the beautiful flower garden, considering how all of the flowers were so unique and beloved in their own little way. Even if one were to devalue a little flower, it wouldn’t diminish the beauty that was its own. No one would be able to do that. And inspired by that supposed truth, she meditated on her thought from earlier...”

     Why had Coralie done such horrible things? Why did she torment me so? Why didn’t she understand that those precious, beautiful lives like those flowers were not hers to take?

     Did she not have a single ounce of mercy in her blackened soul?

     No. I wouldn’t meditate on such thoughts any longer. For too long, despite being in a car dozens of miles away from that cursed place, my mind had remained trapped in that bloody, twisted Murder House. 

     I shivered, but the car was nothing if not warm. 

     “Ah, Miss Sabrina, I hate to cut our storytelling session short, but we’re being… tracked,” Danielle began. I was so used to tuning out her voice that it took my mind a second to comprehend what she was saying. 

     My eyes widened. “What?”

     “Ah, no worries. I just simply need you to slouch down further. And grab a blanket, Miss. You seem cold,” Danielle added. 

     “But… we’re being tailed, Miss Danielle,” my eyebrows furrowed. However, I did as she said. These Revelation Foundation people could save us from Flicker once-- I  hoped they could do it again. "Isn't there anything else I should do?"

     Danielle didn't answer.

     She began to speed up again. A solemn silence fell over the interior of the car while the exterior of the vehicle roared. 

     I covered my ears. I had always hated such loud sounds. Thankfully, the blankets that were in Danielle’s car were of exceptional thickness and quality. It felt like a warm, light hug after so many lights in Flicker had been extinguished because of...

     No. No more thinking about  Coralie. 

     But I wondered what had become of the bodies she had so dutifully killed. 

     The car swerved as a gunshot rang out through the night. I didn’t dare to flee from my newly formed blanket fort. 

     Did that putrid Intercom Gal give those people the respect they were due? Did she throw them out in the trash? Did she burn them and eat their ashes?

     Sorry. That was rather graphic.

     Another gunshot rang out as Danielle suddenly forced the car left. I felt bile rise to my throat  as she did so. For a few more seconds, we traveled straight and the urge to throw up diminished. 

     At least that got me to stop thinking about such tragic things. No matter where those bodies were, no matter where Intercom Gal was, no matter what happened to the Murder House… those were all things of the past. 

     As of right now, amid the screeching of tires behind us, the bangs of continuous gunfire, and complete silence within the car, the goal --as always-- was to stay alive. 

                                                                   ~

[Scarlett]

     After all of the joys of cold chicken and gravy had faded from my mind, I had fallen asleep pretty quickly. All was silent, all was still, aside from Thomas helping Natalie clean up any mess we had left behind. And surprisingly, they managed to keep their voices down for me and the medic. 

     But when I woke up (it only seemed like it had been a minute later), it was to quiet murmurs that seem to come from Natalie. Without making too much noise, I stirred and slowly turned my body to see Natalie sitting at the desk where we had eaten the chicken. She was mumbling to someone on the phone. The curtains in front of the desk (because  there were windows, apparently), were  slightly open and allowed some sunlight to peek through. 

     For a moment, I thought the hotel wouldn’t be so scary after all. Not while there was light. But then my attention snapped back to Natalie and… yeah, I eavesdropped. 

     Or, rather, I tried to. Because I was no super hearer and the only things I could make out were ‘country, base, pickle juice, Sabrina, guns,’ and surprisingly (and almost certainly not accurately), ‘Teletubbies’. 

     I stifled a giggle at that one. But I must’ve been too loud or Natalie must have been a super hearer because the next  thing I knew I was trying to feign sleep the best  I could the moment I heard Natalie push the chair in. 

     I was so bad at stealth missions. But I put in maximum effort for this  one as I tried to release any tension and block out any soreness in my body. I even had my tongue stuck out for some reason. 

     I was glad  Thomas and Liza were still asleep. I didn’t know what they would think if they saw this… work of art. 

     Natalie poked my nose. It made every single second of faking so much harder, because now my sinuses were awake and ready to explode and do whatever sinuses did when you had terrible, monstrous allergies. 

     “You’re awake, aren’t you,” was all Natalie said before walking away and mumbling some more incoherent words. She ended the call shortly after. Maybe her and her colleague really did end their conversation on the Teletubbies. What was with rebellion and the Teletubbies?

     Was I going insane?

     I heard Thomas groan from somewhere below me. I resisted the urge to scream as I noticed the man sit up from the incredibly dusty, musty floor and rub his eyes to the left of where I was. 

     “Oh hey, Scarlett,” he casually greeted, his eyes bloodshot and watery as he waved and shot me a big grin. 

     “Um…” was how I said hi back. 

     “Good morning, Thomas,” Liza flatly greeted from her bed, sitting up and freeing herself from her dusty blanket cocoon. There were only two beds and Liza and I had either one of them… I wonder where Natalie had slept.

     Liza continued with a slightly brighter tone as she met my gaze. “Good morning, Scarlett.”

     I smiled back and waved. 

     “Alright, guys, I’m ready for therapy,” Thomas stretched, remaining on the floor. His once overly gelled hair looked like a hot mess that stuck in all different directions. I felt for my bun instinctively, wondering if I looked the same. And knowing me, I probably did. 

     “Not so fast,” Natalie chimed in. She stood close to the exit. “We need to all eat first. My associates are coming with some yummy, hearty chicken noodle soup.”

     Liza’s mouth watered. Thomas’ red eyes brightened. It was an interesting scene. I think my own body did both. 

     I was ready for another breakfast of champions. And therapy. And going home. But it was one step at a time for all of us. 

     Time, I figured, was perfectly paced. And our perception of it was what fluctuated every single day, whether we lived in a Murder House or not. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 22 - Ciphers I 

[Scarlett - Can’t a Woman Get a Break?]

     Once all of the chicken noodle soup was finished (and in record time, at that), Natalie’s coworkers took Liza and Thomas aside respectively and left Natalie and I alone at the familiar large oak desk. 

     “It looks like I’ll be your ‘counselor’ today, Scarlett,” she shot me a bright grin. I returned it with a cheesy, awkward smile. “Do you have any questions for me before we begin?”

     “Are we… going home after this?” was the thought that immediately came to mind. I wanted to return to the city and act like this had never happened. At the same time, I wanted to return to the city and acknowledge everything that happened.

     “Yes,” she nodded. “You three will all be traveling together again, if that’s to be desired.”

     “Oh, yes please,” I resisted the urge to blush as I remembered Liza’s seemingly infinite tissue supply. If we were going back to my lovable yet terribly polluted city, we would need them. I also wanted Thomas’ jokes on the way there. And not only on the way there… I wanted to see them again and again, even if it meant taking all of my allergy meds just to get there. 

     “Alright. That should work if everyone else agrees to it,” Natalie nodded again, her eyebrows furrowed. She looked back up at me. “What else?”

     “How’re Sabrina and Matt and Jordyn?” I blurted. After all, guns were mentioned. And did she really say Teletubbies?

      I’ll stop now.

     “All of them are… okay. Sabrina sustained minor injuries as some Flicker agents managed to track her location and tried to, well, murder her,” Natalie began. I resisted the urge to bury my face in my hands and groan. Why did Flicker hate us so?

     “Are we really safe going home so soon then?” I forced the question out before it left my mind.

     “Glad you asked. Yes, you will be. Rest assured that I’ve— ah, we’ve been in this business for a while now. It's nothing new for me or my team.”

     “Oh, thank God,” I sighed in relief.

     “That being said, we will check on you often. At least in the starting months. And by we, I mean me. And usually I’ll just be asking questions about how you’re doing, how Flicker has affected you, and if you’ve noticed any sort of suspicious activity.”

     “I can live with that.”

     “Good. Now, Matt and Jordyn are doing well, too. They managed to get to their old abandoned house in the countryside without any problems.”

     “They’re country kids?”

     “Well… yes. I suppose you could call them that.”

     “Interesting, interesting…” I scratched my chin at the lore reveal. “Alright, go ask your questions now.”

     “Sure. But before that, I must tell you some important information. Due to Charlie’s interference in your game, we were able to actually watch some snippets of it and get key details needed for him to be able to escape your game and help end it.”

     Escape the game…? Is that what he’d done?

     I nodded, prompting her to continue. 

     “With you and the other remaining players' permission, we’d like to keep and broadcast these recordings. We’ve split them off into encrypted sections concerning every player involved and non-encrypted sections concerning a player's particular mindset or mental state.”

     I immediately thought back to all of the times I had looked at those cameras and did something silly, thinking only Intercom Gal saw them. “Broadcast… where?”

     “News can spread quite quickly nowadays,” was all Natalie answered with. “Knowledge is power.”

     That was slightly corny. I abruptly giggled, much to Natalie’s displeasure. I cleared my throat once I noticed her gaze and asked another question to distract her. “Why’d you guys split the game into sections?”

     “To analyze how Flicker specifically impacts certain persons… but also overall relationships,” Natalie explained without blinking an eye. “Essentially, how its cruel methods affect the human psyche.”

     I nodded, not understanding half of what she said but trying to be as respectful as possible. “Sounds important.”

     “Do you give your consent to have us broadcast segments involving you either in either encrypted or unencrypted tapes?” Natalie folded her hands, her face unnaturally blank. I opened my mouth to speak, but she continued. “Take your time. I don’t want to pressure you into anything.” Then her face softened, and she was back to the Natalie who enjoyed joking with us in her car and eating chicken.

     I mean, if it helped people see how bad Flicker was… 

     My mind drifted to all the players, my friends, who had suffered during this game. It wasn’t just those who had died. After all, only the survivors walked away with living wounds.

     Sabrina, with the ghosts of her friends haunting her every step she took instead of them. Jordyn having to somehow live normally with literal wounds that could reopen at any time. I heard Liza talk about the way the attack had forced Matt into such mournful silence until Jordyn had woken up again. Even I, myself, I had to live with all of this when I went back home. And that wasn’t even half of it. 

     Normalcy would be impossible, maybe. But if our suffering could help bring about good to somebody out there so they wouldn’t have to experience the same…

     “I consent.”

     “A wise choice,” Natalie smiled, dipping her head as she opened up a file folder containing some paper. 

     No. Paperwork . 

     “I’d like for you to review this for me,” she passed the paper and a sleek, purple pen to me. “Just so you understand exactly what you’re agreeing to."

     As much as I hated paperwork, I admired their transparency. At least I wouldn’t be signing my life away a second time like I did with Flicker.

     After taking a few minutes to read through Natalie’s terms and conditions, I finally signed my name several times with my —somewhat ugly— cursive and returned the papers to her. 

     “Thanks,” I added as she reviewed all of my signatures. 

     “For what?” she looked up from the papers.

     “For your help.” For once, I didn’t have much to say. I could’ve thanked her for a dozen other things, too, like the chicken noodle soup, like cheering Thomas up, like diffusing Liza’s skepticism… but it all came under the umbrella of her help. Any sort of help was like a morning star, at least to me. 

     “No problem, Scarlett. It's my pleasure. Now… do you have anything else you’d like to tell me, or is it time for us to go home?”

                                                               ~

[External - The Resistance]

[Charlie - Why Might a Man Have To Die?]

     I rewatched the tape once. 

     Then I watched it again, and again, and again, and before I knew it, it was midnight and I heard banging on my office door. 

     Coralie and I had reached the Foundation’s security base. I disliked her name as much as I disliked getting interrupted in the middle of my important work. Which is why I slammed the door open, expecting it to be some impolite new intern or someone wanting to use my bathroom for the millionth time or maybe even Coralie pretending to be an intern so she could use my bathroom.

     Instead, it was Ben, whose eyes widened to that of saucers as I stood in front of him with clenched fists, uncombed hair, and a dented steel door that whined in the background. 

     I immediately sighed. I had stopped many Flicker games before, but none of them ever had me in such a disgraceful mindset like this. 

     Maybe, in part, because it was the last one I’d ever stop. 

     “Come in,” I attempted to sound pleasant, even flashing Ben my signature Charlie smile. He did not return it. 

     Ben hesitantly entered, gently closing the door behind him with a soft click. Had he even banged on the door? Ah, perhaps my ears were just too sensitive nowadays. 

     Just as Ben entered, he paused upon hearing a noise. He looked to his left, to his right, and then to the back of the office. 

     And then he stood there, like a deer in the headlights. His eyes somehow grew wider and he stiffened, his breathing intensifying. He shivered and took a step back, walking back into the door that whined again.

     I wondered why he acted so fearful. Regan wasn’t alive anymore. He wasn’t under any sort of cruel boss. I turned around to face what he did. 

     Ah. 

     The tape. 

     Of him killing Dan. 

     On loop. 

     I pinched my nosebridge before whirling around to face Ben, who was starting to become jittery. He struggled to breathe properly and felt the door for its handle. I placed a hand on his shoulder and immediately tried to soothe him. 

     “Calm down, Ben. It's okay. It's over. I forgave you,” I lowly cooed, trying to avoid another session of helping Ben deal with his conscience. I was also trying to avoid spontaneously combusting as one half of my brain tried to emanate the familiar charm everyone knew while the other one also played the tape in my head again and again and again because I knew who Dan’s murderer was and it was the man in front of me right now, this time with no knife. 

     Once that murderous thought came to light, I incinerated it and tried to think happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts of all of the players getting therapy. Of Regan rolling in her grave at my success and Flicker’s failure. Of myself actually making progress in sorting all of these encrypted tapes, including the one of Dan’s death, so I could deduct everyone’s individual story, because that was what mattered most. 

      I took a deep breath. 

     Ben followed. 

     I took another one. He did the same. 

     “How are you feeling now?” I asked him. 

     “Better,” he nervously answered, his expression grim as he tried to keep his eyes on the space between mine. I had to turn off that blasted murder tape. I should have categorized that one long ago. My work was overdue. 

     “I’ll turn that off now, okay?” I tried to radiate peace as I slowly walked toward my monitor. I unloaded the tape and chucked it to the side. 

     Ben followed after it as I loaded a new one— this one being of Austin trying to search for my supposed corpse. I sighed again. 

     I hadn’t seen Austin in a while, but his agent did report that he was safe and they made it to the cafe. I hoped he liked the food there. Him and I would have to catch up soon.

      My heart yearned for a world where he never joined this game, because I knew that no time with him would ever be the same again. 

     Life tended to change when your friend came to know about your secret vigilante identity. 

     “This is gibberish,” Ben commented from my right. My eyes drifted to him on the floor with the tape of Dan’s death in his hands. “It’s just a bunch of random letters.”

     Ben saw more tapes on the shelf. The ones I had taken upon myself to organize so meticulously. He hesitantly took another one off. “And this one, too. Alc qmklx e qer lezi xs hmi… the heck is that?” 

     Ah. The Caesar cipher. I knelt down to where he was and took the tape from his hands, glad he wasn’t asking me about why I had Dan’s horrible death on repeat. “It’s encrypted in a cipher. It means ‘Why does a man have to die?”

     “Uh… this seems a little too personal,” Ben slowly put the tape back in the wrong spot. I’d have to reorganize it later. “Sorry… I know I shouldn’t be looking through all of these tapes.”

     “All is well. They’re just chronicling the events of the Flicker game that just took place.”

     At that, he made a fearful noise. Perhaps he now despised Flicker as much as I did. 

      “Don't worry yourself about it. I’ve been handling those, hence the tape of Dan,” I continued. 

     “…I’m sorry, Charlie.”

     “Again, do not worry yourself. Now, what did you want to see me about?”

     “…I don’t think you want to know.”

     “It means something if you had to travel such a long distance,” I folded my arms. “Haven’t you heard the rumors of what happens when you interrupt me while I’m working?”

     “...I try  not to listen to rumors, sir.”

     “Sir? You’re not even half my age.”

    “I…”

     “Could you please just tell me why you visited? This will make it easier for all of us.”

     “...It's Coralie. She wants you to visit her.”

     As if this day couldn’t get any better.

                                                                                          ~

[External]

[Austin - Is He Alive?]

     “Austinnn,” Anna sighed. I could hear the disappointment rolling off her tongue as she tried to move my body off of the cafe’s couch. My eyes remained closed and my body was a sleeping rock. 

     I had just survived a murder mystery ‘game’-- and so had they. I felt like they should cut me some slack. And by they, I meant the agents from Charlie’s organization/company/whatever the heck it's called whose eyes I could feel boring into my body from all sides. 

     “This isn’t very  polite of us to  hog up so much space,” Anna continued, her voice quiet and gentle as she patted my shoulder. I thought she was about to break into Spanish again. She seemed to do that when she was annoyed. 

     “I’m tired,” I groaned, rolling away from her and facing the back of the couch. I was only comfortable doing this because I knew there were no other customers aside from us voted-out people (and some agents who needed a drink, I guess). Plus, if this whole cafe was under Charlie’s control, it gave me even more power to do this. I’d never do this in public.

     Just as a disclaimer. 

     “Austin, sit up before they kick you out of  here,” Spencer tapped his foot on the floor impatiently. “I want to play UNO and we need one more person.”

     “Let Anna do it,” I groaned, sitting upright. My back ached terribly and my head still pounded. Even those eggs benedict I ate did nothing to suppress the consequences of Flicker and stress on my body.  I slowly opened my eyes. “She can become two people. I just know it.”

     “What’s that supposed to mean?” Anna folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. 

     “You’re quite grumpy when you don’t take care of yourself,” Colleen, in all of her wisdom, muttered, her eyes meeting mine. She put a hand on my shoulder and took my hand in hers, trying to get me to stand up. I reluctantly followed through and threw them all the biggest glare I had. 

     “Embarrassing,” Spencer quietly snickered. Anna rolled her eyes at him and Colleen simply sighed.

     Ever since we had gotten to this lavish but private cafe, we four had been forced to awkwardly family bond to pass the time amid my headaches and bodily pains. No medicine seemed to undo anything, so I had the benefit of everyone’s pity and did almost everything I wanted. 

      Almost. Because apparently I couldn’t sleep while everyone else was eating, even if I could skip every bonding exercise Spencer and Anna cooked up. (Literally. I never knew Anna could make such a hearty paella .)

     Anna said it was safer if I slept upstairs. But who was going to see me  on the couch  if I was lying down?

     Colleen wondered if I could even sleep  in such a loud environment. I was used to  it. 

     Spencer just gave me coffee. I liked my coffee with sugar. 

     But all of that aside, as much I… cared for all of these people, I needed a very long and very restful break away from all of them. I could only talk with so many people so much with so much pain in my body and a thought that continued to echo in my mind with every step I took. 

      Where was Charlie? No-- how was he? Was he still alive? I was sure he was. Nothing could kill that man. 

     Right?

     The thought of anything going wrong in his plans made the  aching and the pounding and the smarting and the stress worse. Being a ‘leader’ was harder than I thought. 

     “Let’s get you back to bed,” Colleen took my hand again, causing me to flinch and snap me out of my thoughts. “ Upstairs .”

     “Whatever,” was all I said as we trudged up the staircase. Spencer saluted me and  Anna waved goodbye before sipping on her latte in a teacup. 

      Once Colleen and I made it to the landing, I lied down on a couch nearby again and shut my eyes, expecting to hear footsteps that would signal Colleen’s depature. 

     Much to my disappointment, that was not the case. 

     “Would you care to tell me what’s bothering you so much?” she sat down across from the table, presumably in a chair. 

     “No,” I calmly answered. For whatever reason, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her to go away.

     “Okay. I’ll stay up here and keep watch,” she said. I heard her open something-- a book most likely. I turned away from her. 

     It was nice sleeping in a place so quiet. But that’s all it was. Nice. 

     …It was so quiet I couldn’t sleep.

    Anna would teach an audience of invisible little children. Spencer would crack himself up every other five  minutes and play around with whatever random items he could find like the mad scientist he was. But Colleen… the woman was so silent I couldn’t even hear  her breathing. 

     I turned over and peeked an eye open just to make sure she was still breathing. And she was. And she was… reading, writing, God knows what. She had a fat book open and she was highlighting a lot of things. 

     I closed my eye again. She didn’t notice me. 

     At least I knew I wouldn’t get attacked out of nowhere with her around. 

     And for some reason-- as the mind would do when you need to sleep and you want to but you just can’t -- I began to wonder about things I hadn’t since my time in Flicker began. My car. My house. My dog, Victor. 

     All of the cafes in the city. None of them were as grand as this one. I wondered if the pothole by my house was finally fixed. I wondered if Victor was still alive.

     I wondered if anything would ever be the same again. 

     And then my mind brought him to me. Charlie. 

     I never knew he ran a secret association like this one. He had the smarts and the charm too, of course, and sometimes I wondered if he actually had much more power than I realized, but I never thought too hard about it. 

     Turned out I was right all along. Because Charlie was Charlie, and a man like him always went somewhere. 

     I couldn’t say the same for myself. But I was glad that we both made it out of Flicker alive. 

     And if one of us had to die, I’d rather it be me. 

     Because who was I compared to him? Everyone loved him. I just slept on couches and  helped people sometimes. 

     I smiled to myself. It wasn’t funny. 

     The silence was deafening at this point. I wanted to stop thinking altogether because I didn’t want to hear myself fill the silence because I needed to sleep because my head was starting to pound again. 

     I needed something --no, someone-- to take over and to do something that would make me  go to sleep faster. What did Colleen even do in her free  time aside from highlight books? Did she play UNO or joke with herself to pass the time?

     The memory of  Colleen and Coralie singing that very first night of Flicker while I was downstairs in the basement suddenly popped into my mind. And then the memory of her singing Happy Birthday to me. And I remembered she had such a lovely voice. I was no choir boy --that would be Charlie--, but I knew a great singer when I heard one.

     I felt my cheeks heat up. This was what happened when I didn’t take care  of myself, for sure. 

    I didn’t usually ask for help from anybody, but I needed my mind to shut up and stop worrying about anything and everything. And if Colleen was here… maybe it was divine intervention. 

     “Hey, Colleen?” I couldn’t believe I was  doing this. I sat up and rubbed my  eyes. 

     She looked up from her huge, giant-print book. It had a nice leather cover. She was highlighting in pink now. “Yes?”

      “Can you… uh…” How would you ask someoone to sing you to sleep? When Charlie and I would go camping together, he’d often do it just to bother me, not knowing it was actually extremely helpful to get me sleeping.

     “Do you want me to go back downstairs?” she tilted her head  to  the side, towards the staircase. 

     “No. But, uh, maybe it's boring just sitting there and reading a book. Why don’t you, I dunno, sing something?” 

     “...If you wouldn’t mind,” her eyes glimmered.

     “Sure. Go right ahead. I’ll be sleeping.”

     “Of course! Thank you, Austin. Sleep well.”

     “You too.”

     And the mission, just like all of our other ones, was a success. It was strange, having so many of  these people to rely on, to talk to, to be with , other  than Charlie and  my dog in my house. 

     …Maybe it was better this way. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 23 - Ciphers II

[External]

[Jordyn - Silent Night]

     Like I did the night before we left this godforsaken house, I stargazed.

     I stargazed and lay on my back on the grass in front of our old wooden house, hallucinating the sounds of the chickens and the smell of  the large cows and the cute little pigs sniffing me whenever I walked past  them. They were all gone now, along with the little girl who smiled a lot and poked them a lot  and fed them… a lot. 

     Meanwhile, Evan was in the house, in our old little room and probably praying in his little corner with that stupid tiny and rotting green pillow as a kneeler (if it hadn’t been eaten by the insects already). The  house itself remained, but not the memories  in it. I couldn’t wait for the morning to come.

     At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself. I  struggled to believe it. Nowadays, I struggled to believe anything. 

     Believing was for Evan-- and sometimes, his hopes came true. Like nobody else  having to die because of Flicker. But all I wanted was to stay  in the present and not have  a care in the world about where I was going after. All I needed was to know if my siblings were okay. 

     I would have a story  to tell them all later-- if  I  wasn’t stuck between cars for hours. I’d have a lot of work and complaints to deal with after, too, but I refused to think about that. 

     If the night would be quiet, my mind be too. For a moment, I wouldn’t allow any of it to bother me. Tonight was a silent night-- I hadn’t had one in ages. 

     The move to the town,  the memories before we left, what would happen next… I just looked up at the stars and brushed it all off. It was over now. It all meant nothing. 

     I placed  a hand on my abdomen, in the center of my wound.

     I especially refused to  think about that damned Coralie. 

                                                                               ~

[Matt]

     We had moved  to the town because of me. Because of my relentless pursuit of knowledge and education and simply wanting to be surrounded by more people instead of cattle. 

     When the news was announced at dinner, Jordyn said nothing. 

     When we finally saw our new home in the town, Jordyn said nothing.

     And finally, when we came  back, she said nothing again. 

     Meanwhile, I was all over the place, snooping around and checking every nook and cranny to see  what had changed. 

     And almost nothing did. I had  a feeling Jordyn would tease me for being so eager the moment I told  her  the only thing that changed were the amount of insects eating up the wooden beams and lurking the ceiling. She hated the crawling, little things. I personally liked them— everything was precious.

     I saw the tiny Matt and Jordyn playing patty cake in the kitchen. I saw our parents sitting at the dinner table, discussing how to prepare for the upcoming winter. I saw the bathroom, which was now out of order, and saw tiny Matt struggling to be tall enough to reach the mirror, which was now cracked with shards resting on the floor as a dangerous invitation. I did not oblige. I had seen way too many injuries for a lifetime.

     Like Jordyn’s. I didn’t know how she was going to return back to her house and take care of all of those lovely siblings. For a brief moment, I considered pausing my studies to help her get any sense of normalcy back. 

     I knew that it wouldn’t be easy, if even possible. I also knew that as her family, I was obligated to help her. 

      That was, if she’d even accept my help. I knew that outside, she would be stargazing and having a moment of silence to herself. And I understood that, because I was also having a silent night… but inside of the house surrounded by my memories, the insects, and the thoughts in my head.

     Tomorrow, we would go back home. Tomorrow, life would go back to normal. But tomorrow felt like many, many hours away from now. Because it was, and that was okay.

     At least we were spending it in a home away from home. 

     It was a reminder to not get too comfortable with the idea of security just yet. 

                                            ~

[Jordyn - Survival of the Fittest]

     The morning after stargazing and sleeping outside (I was certain Matt was the cause of my newfound air mattress, pillow, and blankets) was rough. I could barely move an inch without my torso feeling like it was about to go up in flames.

     Obviously, our driver from the night we fled was by my side in an instant, and obviously, he had medicine that helped keep the pain down. I begged to him to not tell Matt about my condition —the irritation in my body only seemed to get worse, but maybe it was a part of the healing process— for fear that my cousin would freak out and do something crazy like quit school.

     I knew that if worse came to worst, he would. And he would tell me to do something crazy like drink soup or lie down for a day or two with paid leave or God forbid— stop working for a month to “rest”. His tendency to offer such advice reminded me of a certain Flicker medic and her allergy-ridden patient…

     Merely surviving Flicker was enough. I didn’t need to do what he said. He wasn’t even a doctor— at least not medically. I had survived. Survival of the fittest. I could live with this annoying, ugly wound without taking a long, useless break.

     And he had survived too, so I couldn’t risk him giving up everything he wanted for me. 

     He’d never known it, but I had a soft spot for him as he did for me. I didn’t believe any sort of religious mumbo-jumbo he yapped on about, but I wanted him, like my siblings, to be happy. 

     If that was moving to the town nearby and letting him study and get A+’s all over his face then it was fine by me. If that was fighting with all my might to live after Coralie’s betrayal so that he didn’t spend the rest of his life mourning for me, so be it. If that was going back to normal despite everything that happened, well? Amen. It would have to be so.

     I couldn’t imagine a reality where I had died, anyway. All happened as it would, and I was here, and so was he, so we’d have to deal with it.

     And I had a sneaking suspicion our driver/agent/whatever thought, too, just by the way he would often tend to our every need but never get personal with it.

     “You have no need to make me promise,” he said after I told him to keep my morning pains a secret. “I understand the value of privacy, being someone who enjoys it myself. Now go on. Get yourself ready. I’ll go wake up your broth— er, cousin.”

     I stretched and ignored how he almost called Matt my brother, swiping the pile of blankets off my body before looking up at the sun before me.

     It was barely sunrise. Too early. My little siblings would get angry if I woke them up before the sun rose. Matt suggested I get them to watch the sunrise to stop this. 

     I planned to do that after we got back home. I’d hug them all one by one and tell them how much Matt and I missed them (if he was coming with me first, which I knew he would) and make them some tea or finish a puzzle or watch the TV and avoid the news at all costs.

      I sighed at how pretty that seemed in my mind. I missed beauty, beauty in the forms of tiny squabbling children climbing everywhere and almost burning their fingers on my iron.

     Anyway, the driver eventually came out with Matt and served us some hard boiled eggs to start off our morning. A good egg… hadn’t had some non-murderous food in a while. We all sat on the air mattress and awkwardly shared breakfast. 

     “I have some sandwiches too,” the driver spoke up after a while. I still didn’t know his name. He raked a hand through his Charlie-esque black hair before placing his straw hat on top of it.

     “What’s your name?” I asked, out of the blue. I felt no shame.

     “…Filipe.”

     “What a nice name,” Matt hummed, as Matt did. 

     More eating ensued. I took a sandwich.

     “I have information for you two,” Filipe began after I finished my sandwich. “It’s what you all have been waiting for.”

     I nodded. Matt perked up immediately.

     “As you both know, today will mark the beginning of your lives after Flicker. But things won’t suddenly go back to normal, as you both also probably know. I’ve been tasked with visiting you two every other month to check on you and provide any services you need. Capiche?”

     “Mhm,” I nodded again, reaching for another sandwich.

     Matt nodded, too, eyeing my hand. I sighed and retracted it.

     “There’s still more. Are you two willing to allow us to air tapes featuring you both in Flicker in both group and personal situations?”

     Matt’s eyebrows furrowed. “What for?”

     He took the words right out my mouth. So I put the sandwich in instead. Filipe didn’t mind.

     “For informational purposes— to inform ourselves about how Flicker affects behavior and to warn people of how dangerous it is.”

      “I consent,” Matt said after a few minutes. Filipe took out papers and Matt signed for himself. 

      “Sign for me,” was all I said as I finished my breakfast.

      “No. I don’t even know how to forge your  signature.”

     “Fine. Hand me the pen.”

     So he did. And I signed it with my surprisingly elegant cursive. A hint of relief flashed through Filipe’s usually blank face. 

     He took the papers back from us and nodded. “Thank you.”

     And that was it. After that one night of going back, we were going forward. 

     We stood up. We made sure nothing was left behind. And then, without a second glance from myself or Filipe (although I knew Matt was looking back with tears in his eyes), we entered the same car and began driving away. 

     Just like that, my night of stargazing and Matt’s night of reminiscing was over. I didn’t know the next time we would see that ratty old house. But I knew we were going somewhere better.

     Somewhere far, far away from the likes of Flicker. And then another hope of Evan’s would come true: we would get our happy ending. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 24 -  Ad Finem

[Scarlett - Future’s Word]

     I spent the first few hours of the morning back home nestled in a beanbag, watching footage from the tapes Natalie gave me. Some parting gift that was. At  least she gave me some  chocolates, though. 

     But I felt embarrassed when I started watching, because while Thomas was probably getting his cheeks pinched at home just as he feared and while Liza was trying to relax by cooking some of her family recipes, setting her medical kit away a good and long time, I was sitting through a broadcast of the most interesting week of my life, reliving every single moment I was onscreen. 

      Onscreen. Flicker was a gameshow, wasn’t it? But no game should allow you to die, just like that. No deal should be so disgustingly rigged that you’re at death’s mercy to set you free from it. 

     Still, I sat through it all. Perhaps I would have found it entertaining if I wasn’t the one on the screen crying or laughing or sneezing ten times over; if I were an audience distant from all of the people whom I had come to know and care and love, maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much. Because even if the audience loved the game, they sure didn’t love us enough to save us from dying. If they even could. 

     I mused on all of these things while sipping some ramen with chocolate wrappers only a few feet away, watching us squabble or sing or do whatever we had done not so long ago. 

     And despite the amount of people on the screen, I felt lonely. It was just me in my tiny apartment room, and life was just how it was before everything. 

       It felt off. 

     I was thankful, of course, to be able to survive such a horrible deathgame. It was one of, if not my greatest, accomplishment in life. But aside from that, life went on. I had greeted the doorkeeper downstairs. I got some snacks from the vending machine and gave them to the same children who sat on the same green bench outside. I checked on the mini patch of wildflowers behind the apartment. I took a shower, finally. Nobody truly knew what had just happened to me. Nobody needed to. 

     I watched the last few moments of the game. How the Murder House practically vomited us out. And my mind continued the story from there-- the car, the hotel, Natalie…

     For once, I had been a part of something important, just as I had originally wanted before the game. 

      And now,  it was over.

     And as much  as I hated to say it-- in a twisted sort of way, I missed it. 

     Not the murder, nor  the crying, nor the basement investigations we had, but the comfort and the care and the safety that came from the people around me. Even at our worst, we still tried our best. The best part was that we beat the odds and won, even if that part was mostly due to Charlie and not because of our smarts. 

     The adrenaline and the pain and the confusion we felt: at least we felt it together. And God willing, nobody would have to face anything like that because  of Flicker ever again. No matter how naive it sounded, I wanted to make it a reality. 

      As the final tape ended, my eyes drifted off to my phone. Natalie had given  me her number, told me I could tell her anything. 

      She had talked about us sharing the tapes of our joy and pains we went through. How it shaped us. How we dealt with it. 

     I picked up the phone. 

     If there was something, anything more I could do, I would have to do it.

     If I could do anything to help someone in the future from signing away their life, for me to do just one more important thing, I needed to do it. 

                                                                             ~

[External]

[Coralie - Human Nature]

     Just as I thought he would, he came. And I knew he would come, because not only was I the baddest ‘villain’ in the cells (per usual, everyone was under control by means of food), but because he and I were two sides of the same coin and he knew he couldn’t get enough of me (and I of him).

     He was hardworking. So was I. He wanted the best for everyone. And I did too.

     The look on his face when he opened the cell was absolutely priceless. I could tell that man was struggling to suppress all of his emotions behind that poker face of his— every second or so, the muscles on his face would twitch ever so slightly whenever he met my eyes. Meanwhile, I sat at my little desk in the tight room and smiled. The room smelled of the eggs I cooked at midnight. 

     “Good morning, sheriff,” I greeted him. It reminded me of that night before he went missing during our Flicker game together, which wasn’t even too long ago. If only I had my way…

     “I have a multitude of other things to get to this—barely even—morning, so please make it quick,” the words, though smooth and clear, spilled out of his mouth one after another. His foot began to tap on the floor. The tiles were smooth and unbelievably clean. I’d seen restaurants dirtier than this jail-prison-whatever sort of facility. 

     “I just wanted to talk with you. Can’t a lady talk with her own philosophically minded friend?”

     “If you’re about to justify the murder of several people, I will close the cell and assign Ben as your ‘caretaker’.”

     I wrinkled my nose. That man barely had a backbone. He was a people pleaser at best and a door rag at worst. He’d be too easy.

     “Isn’t it human nature to want to end suffering?” I leaned towards Charlie, pressing his buttons further. My smirk only grew.

      “I am not playing these games.”

     “You’d want to end the pain of Austin if he was hurt, wouldn’t you? You’d see all he was going through and want to free him from this earth. I mean, you saved everyone from the so-called suffering I would have caused, right?” 

     And that seemed to resonate with him. He blinked, his eyes flashing with alarm before reverting back to something more neutral. Something more like the faux poker face he tried to wear every day, aside from the obviously forced smiles and the occasional thoughtful expression. But he remained silent, much to my displeasure.

     I wanted to see him crack. Someone so perfect, so upright and moral— like I once was long ago. Maybe, then, it was also human nature to want to play with your food. 

     “Aren’t we just so similar?” I rested my chin on my hands. 

     “Casual, are you?” he sniffed with disdain. “Again, my time is precious.”

     “I’ll answer for you then: we are just so similar. And I’m sure you understand how, even if you pretend to be so holier than me. You and I… we’re both so devoted to our causes. We both desire to help so many people. Plus, we can both bake a lovely batch of truffles.”    

     I winked. The taps of his foot increased ever so slightly. I had a feeling he would hate truffles after this. 

     “We are not the same,” he answered shortly after, his words crisp and almost sharp. His poker face slowly transformed into something more aggravated, maybe even carnal. I knew I struck a nerve.

     “But what’s the difference? Why am I the villain of this story and not you? Who’s to say I’m in the wrong?”

     He seemed to consider my words for a second. And then he spoke, his tone resolute.

     “…You have chosen the easy way out for everyone. Your mercy will not prevent more lives from being tortured and severed at the hands of Flicker leaders. Your mercy will not see these people through on their hopes and dreams, unattainable as they may be. Your mercy will not heal these people— as you know, it only serves to end them.”

     “It's  still mercy. I’m ending their suffering.”

     “It’s not merciful enough.”

     I resisted the urge to clench my teeth, only rolling my eyes. Just like before, he had beaten me at my own game. I stared into his eyes and said nothing back, my smile falling from my face.

     “This conversation is over,” Charlie declared, quickly turning on his heel. He shut the cell without a moment’s hesitation and made no noise as he did so. 

     He didn’t give me another chance to speak. I refused to reflect on what he said. 

     Maybe it was human nature to ignore what you knew was right. 

                                                                   ~

[External]

[Charlie - Human Nature] 

     Now that that was finally settled, I headed straight back to my office only to be met with Ben’s face peeking out from the door. 

     “Hi, boss,” he sheepishly greeted. His voice was much more pleasant than Coralie’s, as shaky as it was. At least it was something familiar. Something that didn’t reek of death and philosophy in the early hours of the morning. 

     “Hello again, Ben. And please, just call me Charlie,” I acknowledged him with a brief nod before pushing past him, entering my office. I was glad the tape of Dan’s death was finally off. Such grotesque matters took a toll on my mind, and yet I would chew them like cud for hours on end. 

     I really needed to get out of my head sometimes. 

     “Oh, uh, I organized those weird tapes from the game,” Ben quickly followed after me like some kind of puppy, immediately pointing to the shelf of tapes I had tried and failed to organize earlier. 

     I knelt down and inspected them all. Admittedly, my expectations weren’t high. Both Ben and I required sleep, and as wonderful as this containment facility was, it was not the most comfortable place to rest in. 

     But he must have been able to get more sleep than myself as, after double checking the order of tapes, all was right. Somehow, without any apparent help, he did it. 

     For the first time that morning, I smiled. Less work for me meant more time I had to myself. And when I had to time myself, if I wasn’t using it to work, I usually used it to reach out to a certain close and grumpy friend of mine.

     Before that, however, I looked over at Ben. For a brief moment, I thought about him and Coralie, side by side. 

     Both murdered. Both had tried to justify their actions. But one was contrite of heart while the other had hardened hers. Also, one just made my job a lot easier. 

      I could tell he was waiting for something— any sort of reaction. The man was eager to please.

     So I stood up. I put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, obnoxious as that was (it was something my father did for me as a little boy), and I gave him a smile. 

     “Thank you, Ben… I think I really needed that.”

     It wasn’t a ‘signature’, diplomatic smile. It wasn’t a fake one plastered on at every conference meeting. It wasn’t the victorious smirk I would secretly do in the bathroom whenever I finished a ten foot paperwork stack. 

     It was just a smile. Because the little things made me smile genuinely the most. 

     Ben smiled back. “I’ll sweep around a little bit. You should get some sleep.”

     And for once, I was free from work. I took the opportunity without a second thought. 

     I made my way back to the door— that itself was a satisfactory answer, and Ben waved goodbye as I went to finally, finally get some rest. And check on how a certain someone was doing…

                                                                     ~

[External]

[Sabrina - Message of a Dead Man]

     Once again, whether a cruel joke or a blessing, I had survived. And miraculously, so did Danielle. 

     She really was a good driver. Somehow, we swerved in ten different directions in half a millisecond. And perhaps she was a sharpshooter too, if the gunshots that accompanied the harsh pop! of tires and the gun that mysteriously appeared next to her seat was any indication. She had so many additional talents to being a storyteller, and I assumed it checked out if she was hired by someone like Charlie. 

     But she hadn’t continued her story as we had reached the next exit. She hadn’t spoken at all since the final gunshot.  An eerie silence had seized the car.

     All  of a sudden, I missed her rather romantic tales, because silence gave me more time to think. Usually, I enjoyed my downtime. Usually, I enjoyed thinking. 

     But after the death of Jacob, and after Flicker as a whole, my internal monologue hadn’t been the same. Danielle’s voice was replaced by my anxious thoughts poking and prodding at every inch of my heart and my mind. 

     I slowly crept upwards, taking the risk of looking through the seemingly bulletproof windows now that it seemed we were safe. For a moment, I was silent too. For a moment, I was at ease.

     Until I heard a voice:

     “Sabrina.”

      I knew that voice from anywhere. And I knew it wasn’t him. I knew it wasn’t his voice. I knew I had to deal with it, as I dealt with Eva’s voice the morning we found her body. I thought Jacob dying in peace would have been some kind of solace for my weary self, but it only made my nightmares worse. The final message he told me was its music, his glazed over eyes and cold body were the contents, and the silence meant his end.

     ‘He’ continued, although he was nowhere in sight. “In case I don’t make it…”

     I winced. Danielle’s eyes flicked up to her interior rear view mirror; I saw her raise an eyebrow. 

     “Are you alright, Miss?” she finally broke the silence that choked the car. Her voice was as sweet and gentle and musical as before, similar to how Eva’s voice was before she was suffocated, like how one would wring a songbird's neck. 

      I had half a mind to answer by asking Danielle to continue her story. I didn’t want to deal with the voice of a dead man, or my thoughts, or the nightmare. I knew his voice was fake. That piece of knowledge would have to be enough for now. 

     But in the end, it wasn’t. 

     “In case I don’t make it, I need you to do something for me.”

     His voice was fake, but his words were real. I held the blanket in my hands just a bit tighter. My throat felt abnormally dry. I felt the urge to gag. Maybe I was the reason he didn’t make it. Maybe I was truly cursed. 

     “I…I’m fine,” I struggled to speak. The sound barely passed through my mouth. 

     “I need you to live.”

     How simple his words were. All I needed to do in his honor was live. Not to make a memorial of him, not to put flowers on his grave, not to organize his funeral, but to live. I would be the memorial, the flowers, everything.

     It was sad. 

     I had always been an emotional person, and a person like that could only go so far without expelling every ounce of tears they had in memory of someone they cared for and loved and knew loved and cared for them back. 

     Even if it was only for less than a week. It was silly, wasn’t it?

     But sometimes, the most heart wrenching moments were the ones that happened instantaneously. The ones that happened quickly could take the longest time to heal from. 

     I wept. 

     Soon this journey would be over, and I would have lived through it all. 

     I’d have lived for everyone who died.

Chapter Text

C25 - Finale  

[Scarlett - THE END?]

     One year later, I wasn’t lonely anymore. 

     For the past few months I had been working closely, not only with Natalie, but with Charlie again-- we stopped small-scale copycat deathgames, giving our services to those hurt by them, and analyzed and broadcasted the tapes from my very own game to stop others from getting hurt also (and boy were those Flicker people angry. I finally learned how to use a taser!).

     And eventually, everyone who was in my game (aside from the dead, whose bodies were buried somewhere out there and would be remembered today) had a reunion. I wondered how everyone had held up. I hoped everyone was doing well.  

     We all planned to meet in a rather ornate chapel near a studio unsurprisingly owned by Charlie-- the one  we had all visited at some point in the past few months to be interviewed. Its walls were mostly windows and stained glass, the view alternating between colorful saints and the beautiful nature outside amid the grey clouds and the sounds of raindrops pattering against the windows. 

     When I first entered, a day before, I felt underdressed. The building was so tall and majestic and I could hear every step I took in my crusty, old sneakers. Now, I felt prepared but also awkward as I stood next to Natalie, my stylist for today, in a sweeping scarlet colored dress, dress shoes, and a flower in my hair. She drummed her fingers over a dark, wooden  pew, staring off into the distance. I wondered if her colleagues would also be here today. 

     After a few more minutes of waiting, player after player slowly filed in. I knew them, I recognized them the very moment they entered, and yet there was something slightly different about each and every one of them. I figured it was only natural, as after such a horrible event you could only move forward or stay stuck in the past. 

    I saw Jordyn struggle inside with some tiny children clinging to her legs. Matt came in, chasing after her in presumably seminarian’s vestments, his hair wet from the rain outside. 

     Liza came in soon after with the same yellow dress she had worn through the game; I couldn’t help but notice that her old, worn out sandals were replaced with bright and shiny yellow rain boots. I smiled— of course Liza would come prepared. 

     It was so amazingly typical of her. And I was sure it was  typical of Thomas to waltz in with a casual flannel jacket over a tuxedo. He quickly closed his black umbrella as he entered and looked back to beckon Spencer inside. 

     Spencer wore a bow tie and brought a briefcase with him, for some reason. I smiled at how wonderfully random those two were. 

     After them, Anna entered, followed by Colleen and Austin, who were also dressed in black, solemn attire. Colleen even had a big black bow in her hair, embroidered with flowers. Austin took a final glance at the two women before quickly striding towards Charlie, who was inspecting one of the stained glass windows. I wondered how many reunions those two had since Flicker ended.

     Finally, Sabrina (and Ben!) came in, followed by some more people who I assumed were Charlie’s other agents what with their more simple clothing and concealed (but I could see an outline quite well nowadays) weapons. Sabrina brought a tiny purse with her, zipping it shut while Ben  quickly slicked back some of his blond hair. There was a strange look in Sabrina’s eyes— something akin to longing mixed with a keen sense of awareness of what was around her. 

     I headed over to Liza first, seeing groups of old friends begin to form blobs throughout the chapel. Charlie had finally noticed Austin’s presence and soon enough, they were both admiring the art before them. I heard several sniffles echo throughout the chapel amid fast-paced chatter and excited squeals. 

     She smiled at me and waved, walking towards me too. “Scarlett. It's been a long time, hasn’t it?”

     “Yeah,” I smiled back at her with the largest smile I could possibly muster. It was one thing to be with my newer friends like Natalie or with work friends like Charlie, but nothing much seemed to rival the friendship between two close friends. 

     “Are you still taking your antihistamine?”

     I snorted. “Of course. But just the pills. Please never make me take grape syrup again.”

     “Well, I’m not your doctor. Perhaps you should be glad about that.”

     I looked her in the eyes, getting a good view of her familiar face. She still had those two pigtails that popped out from her head and her curly, dark hair was straightened. Those rigid pigtails looked kind of silly on her, I thought, but silly wasn’t necessarily bad. Because it was something of her, and I liked Liza, so I liked her hair. “I guess you could say that.”

     She rolled her shoulders back and straightened her posture. “How have you been?”

     “…I’ve been alright. Gotten more work recently now that I’m kinda… sorta… an agent  of Charlie’s now.”

     Her eyes widened and she leaned forward. “I thought you’d keep me updated!” 

     “I’m so busy,” I jokingly sighed. “Stopping people from getting murdered, y’know.”

     After I said that, I heard two claps resound through the speakers above us. I jolted and turned to face the front set of pews before the altar. Charlie stood in the walkway with a microphone almost too tall for him. 

     “Good afternoon, all,” he smiled. The reverb of the speakers reminded me a little too much of his days on the intercom, and then of Ben on the intercom, and then of Intercom Gal on the Intercom—

     Eugh. Anyway, Charlie continued. 

     “I’m so glad everyone could make it. And I do mean everyone. Our dead comrades lie buried beneath the soil behind this lovely chapel, in the forest.”

     I saw Sabrina tremble, but then straighten up. Anna, who was next to her, dipped her head out of respect for the dead. Several others did the same. Matt did the sign of the cross. Jordyn awkwardly copied him, giving up halfway through. Some of the children around her looked at each other in confusion.

     “Before we pay our respects to them, let us all enjoy our time together,” Charlie resumed after the pause. “There are refreshments served at the back of the chapel. All I ask is that none of you attempt to make a mess… or even worse, pickle juice.”

     Spencer snorted. Thomas nudged him. Spencer gave him the saddest puppy eyes I had ever seen. 

     “Go on, then,” Charlie said as silence loomed over the area. “Eat, drink, and be merry for those who cannot. Please contact one of my agents should you need anything. The bathroom is in the basement. It works.”

     And then he stepped away from the microphone, leaving us to our business. 

     In the time that we had, Liza and I went around briefly checking in with everyone. Everyone had taken steps toward healing, whether it was through therapy or investing time in hobbies or spending time with family. I also learned about little details of their lives,  like how Colleen began teaching the little children at the orphanage to sing. That one seemed to get Anna’s attention, along with Jordyn’s little gremlins who were running around the place. I heard things had been well for her and Matt, and that they were managing just fine especially with extra financial help from their assigned agent Filipe. 

     But aside from them, I was especially proud of Sabrina. I had seen her around the facility I worked in a few times, but never got the chance to say hi to her. It seemed like we had taken two very similar paths. And that made me really happy. 

     “I’ve also seen you around, too,” she confessed once I told her about my new job. “But whenever I work, I tend to lose myself in what I do… so I never truly made an effort to reach out to you.”

     “Ah, that’s alright. What do you specialize in?”

     “Providing services post-game, especially for those who don’t have the resources to get back to a normal life.”

     “That's really awesome,” I smiled at her, but then a silence fell over the two of us. My eyes drifted to Austin forcing fruit punch pouches into the hands of the little children when Jordyn wasn’t looking, and then words drifted out from my mouth. “…I’m guessing you speak from experience?” 

     But that sounded rude, so the moment I said them, I tried to retract them. “I mean… uh, good for you, Sabrina. It's important to have people like you out in the fields—“

     “No, I understand. And yes,  I do speak from experience. It was not an easy transition for me— I often got lonely, and in the silence that came from living where I was happened to be replaced by things from the game that couldn’t get out of my head.”

     I nodded. The same happened to me too, in a way, but I knew she had it worse. I didn’t know what to say, because apologizing felt strangely patronizing. 

     I tried to form words in my mouth, and then slowly replied. “…You’re amazing, Sabrina, you know that?”

     Her eyes widened, just like Liza’s earlier. But in her eyes was a strange glimmer of hope. “I am?”

     “I’m sure Jacob and Eva and Dan would be real proud of you right now. At least, that’s what I think.”

     And at the mention of all of their names, she closed her eyes and smiled. Then, she nodded. And she looked right back at me. 

     “Thank you, Scarlett. I’m sure they’d be just as proud of you as well.”

                                                            ~

     After all of the fun and jolly and jovial new memories that were created (I never knew Spencer had a knack for bossing children around), we all gathered outside, to the back of the chapel.

     The rain had stopped. Clouds still loomed in the distance, but they weren’t as gray as before. They moved to and fro over our heads as we all took turns visiting the three graves before us. 

     The worst part was knowing what the bodies below us looked like now. We once knew them to be full of blood, full of life, talking and walking and encouraging us to survive in their own unique ways. We saw them at their best (as best as you could get in Flicker) and at their worst— their end. 

     I still remembered the screams I heard when Dan’s body was discovered. The way his limp body was brought upstairs. The silence that filled the room of someone as lively and talkative as Eva. The deathly pale on her already light face. 

     I wasn’t there when Jacob died, but everyone knew something bad had happened when Jordyn and Matt and Sabrina all walked out of his room with their heads down and their arms around each other. And despite everyone knowing he wouldn’t survive (word spread quickly in a confined space), it did nothing to ease our sorrow. 

     I allowed myself to cry, and so did everyone else as we knelt down and thought about what could’ve been. 

     What could’ve been, if we all survived. 

     What if Coralie had never murdered? 

     What if Intercom Gal, whose name I learned was actually Regan, had never encouraged those murders?

     What if none of us joined a murder game in the first place?

     I used the back of my hand to wipe tears from my eyes. The cool dampness of tears on my face reminded me that I was in the present, and while I knew it was perfectly okay to mourn what could’ve— no, what should’ve been, I also had to recognize that it would never be.

     None of those people would ever see us again. At least, not in this lifetime. 

     And that was okay. Because as silly as it sounded, we would all live for them. We would live the lives they never got to have, and hopefully they were living their own lives in heaven, or wherever good people went after they died. As for Regan and Coralie… 

     They had their own reasons for why they were so brutal and cruel and horrible. I hoped that Regan spent her last moments (her killer was never revealed) with contrition for what she did. I hoped that Coralie would never lay a hand on a soul again and change herself. 

     I refused to wish hell upon them as they had for us. 

     Slowly, after an hour had passed, each of us slowly stood up and headed back into the chapel. I was one of the last few.

     But by the time I was back inside, the sun was out.