Dark of the Matinee

[Solitair†]

((Quincy Archer continued from Blood, Sweat, and Tears))

Once Quincy was sure that Scott would be unable to shoot him from a distance, he stopped and took a look around. "Of course," he said, knowing that Danya wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity to taunt the contestants with the respectable graves that he would deny them.

"Aren't you acting awfully casually for someone in your situation?"

He looked around and discovered, to his great surprise, a young bespectacled Japanese man wearing a kimono and hakama, hanging from a tree on the edge of a graveyard by his neck. Quincy immediately noticed three things wrong with him:

One, his neck was surrounded by a noose instead of an SOTF-brand collar.

Two, the intricate pattern on his hakama stayed uniform even as it rustled in the wind.

Three, he lacked the fine details of the environment around him, appearing to have been drawn with various inks.

Quincy rubbed his eyes, blinked a few times, looked around, then decided to sit on top of a neaby headstone. He stared into the hanged man's triangular, oversized eyes, and waited for him to speak again. It soon occured to him that the man expected an answer.

"Why are you here, sensei?" Quincy said, uninterested in giving it to him.

As Quincy could guess, the hanged man stuck to his original question. "You stand here, your life at risk, and find time to contemplate the inclusion of your current location? Why wouldn't you devote your complete attention to extending your own life as much as possible?"

Quincy rolled his eyes. "This coming from a man who wouldn't have a full day without at least one suicide attempt. It's a bit ironic that you're lecturing me on how to behave here, isn't it." He got up and walked away from the grave tombstone.

"Where are you going?" the hanged man asked.

"Off to find a more satisfying hallucination. Maybe a better weapon, too." Quincy looked the man in the eyes and shrugged. "No offense, sensei. You're hilarious in your natural element, but I was kind of hoping for someone who'd fit the atmosphere a bit better. Someone scarier than a walking insecurity."

"Oh," the man said, looking disappointed at being cut off so early. "Well, can you please tell me something?"

Quincy was almost out of earshot. "Alright."

"Do you really believe that you can win?"

He briefly pondered the question. "It's possible. Might be tricky. But it's not that important. As long as Warren dies first, I win." And with that he took his leave.

((Quincy Archer continued elsewhere))