Thursday, May 7, 2015: Australia
Zach Valentino had hoped his nerves would ease once the operation was underway, but that had been optimistic in the face of all past evidence. Ever since he moved to a more passive, administrative role in STAR, he got tense when his friends and compatriots were away. He felt like he was holding his breath when Garnett or Grossi was off for a meeting with one of their sponsors. He'd been anxious the entire time when Maxie vanished to take care of some unfinished business. He'd just about paced a hole in the floor in 2008, when most of the organization had been deployed.They told him that he had to stay safe—not just Garnett and Grossi, either, but most of STAR's members. They told him he held things together. They said he was the glue, had the personality and the vision, but Zach didn't quite see it that way. He wasn't the sort for inaction. He hadn't volunteered to head the most dangerous part of the operation that had birthed STAR just to improve morale. Going out there and being on the frontline, that was who he was. It was how he could feel like he was having a real impact. Most of STAR had come home in 2008, but a few hadn't. Zach had been haunted by that, wondering if he'd been there whether things could've been different. Okaying Brynn's infiltration had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done, because they'd all known how high the odds were she'd never return. Her departure had been the last he saw of her.
And so, even though everything for this operation checked out and lined up to a degree he'd never before seen, a sense of dread hung over Zach. Maybe if there had been more people around, he could've relaxed more, but the house felt empty. Garnett had pulled Grossi out for some secret piece of work, telling Zach to just stay the course and claiming that he'd reveal everything upon his return, but the absence of the older men left Zach feeling even more isolated in his position of authority. Ki was still around, and Torrie and Yu, but the rest were either enacting the operation or shepherding the V3ers, whose absence was felt in its own right.
So he was pacing between his room and the operations center, where Ki and Yu were keeping closer track of the operation in progress. He was only out of their sight for a few minutes at a time, he told himself. He'd be able to respond if anything came up. He could hear anything anyone shouted.
But when Ki's voice called out, "Zach, come quick," he wasn't ready at all. As he raced to the room, breath quickening, hands tensing, he realized that, for all his worry, he'd never actually believed things would go particularly wrong.
Thursday, May 7, 2015: Undisclosed Location
"Get out, now," Jaxon shouted, but he knew it was already too late.He turned and started to run, Mateo and the others a step behind, when the gunfire broke out. It came from off to the side, a different blocky concrete building, and the angle and distance weren't optimal, which was probably the only reason they weren't cut down en masse. The tablet, still in Mateo's hand, suddenly erupted into a shower of shards and glass, and Mateo cursed and swatted at the air. Everything seemed to be moving slowly; Jaxon watched drops of blood trace arcs from Mateo's hand into the night.
"Fire back," Jaxon growled. "Keep them down."
This direction was probably unnecessary—with the initial moments of shock past, his comrades were already busily pulling or reorienting weapons, and moments later the flow of ammunition was moving in both directions.
Jaxon did not draw his own weapon, however, but rather clawed his radio loose from among the mass of gear he was carrying. It took him a few seconds to get it tuned to the panic channel that would cut the whole operation into his broadcast; in that time, someone behind him screamed and fell. He didn't know who, had no time to look, no time to go back. It was a sick, sinking feeling. They hadn't lost many people in 2008, and none on Jaxon's team. He wondered whose face he wouldn't be seeing again.
"Dera," he called into the radio, "get moving, now. It's a trap. They probably have someone moving to you now, so swing around the side and we'll try to catch you at the backup extraction point."
"Jaxon, are you—" her voice came, panic clear even over the fuzzy connection, but Jaxon said, "No arguments, no questions. Now. Everyone else, the AT is on us. Abort and run. We'll try to get clear."
"I don't think it's gonna be that easy." That was Rachel's voice, and there was an edge of budding panic to it. "There's something heading our way."
But Jaxon's attention was drawn from the conversation by a lull in the gunfire around him. STAR was still firing back, but mostly blind, and the AT hadn't advanced at all from their positions. Something was wrong here, and in a second he realized what it was.
The AT wanted them running. That they hadn't all been cut down on the spot spoke to something else going on. He had a few ideas—could be they wanted prisoners to interrogate, or more likely they were waiting until they could spring something on all the branches of the operation simultaneously and his group, as the ones running a little ahead of schedule, had been allowed to get further than anticipated—but it didn't really matter. What was important now was surviving, getting out, and to do that they had to be smart. Dera was already abandoning the beach, so they'd have to make their way to the backup rendezvous, down a fairly treacherous slope a half mile around the edge of the island. That meant they couldn't just run back the way they came, no doubt into the waiting arms of the AT.
"Head to Nate's position," Jaxon said. "Link up with them, then we'll try to sneak it out. Don't shoot unless you have to."
His ears were ringing, making the sudden quiet seem less still, but the flip from nothing to coming under assault to nothing again left him edgy and drained. It was almost like being back in the game again, and those old doubts came swimming back. Should he turn around, see if whoever they'd lost was alive? Should they surrender and throw themselves on the mercy of the AT?
"I don't think we're getting out," came Rachel's voice from the radio. "They're faster than us, and they're better armed. We're returning fire as best we can and trying to lead them away from your position, but..."
"Stay safe," Jaxon said, knowing it was a meaningless platitude.
Rachel seemed to sense it too, because she laughed.
"No," she said, "you stay safe. I think it's way too late for us. I think they're going to—"
Then the radio went dead, and a few seconds later the sound of an explosion tore through the air.
Thursday, May 7, 2015: Undisclosed Location
About three minutes after the all-clear, as the Assault Squad was just about into position, Jaxon Jeremiah made a call on the emergency channel to let them know that, whoops, Christmas was actually canceled and in fact today was the first day of school and also Matt's puppy had been hit by the school bus.Right on cue, a bunch of floodlights came on along the side of the tanker, making Matt feel pretty damn stupid sitting in his matte black boat wearing all black like some kind of wannabe ninja. He didn't have too long to worry about it, though, because those constantly-helpful terrorists saw fit to distract him by opening fire from the deck. Always happy to return the favor, Matt stood up and shot back, the kick of the assault rifle against his shoulder almost welcome after so much sitting still.
Dax shouted something. Matt couldn't really hear what, but it must have been an order to turn tail, because the boat got moving in a hurry, which made Matt stumble and fall back down. It was actually a pretty damn good boat, built for going places in a hurry as well as quietly when the need arose, so within a few seconds they were zipping off into the ocean, away from the tanker.
"Well, that went to shit fast," Matt said.
Dax grunted something back. Everyone was shouting, moving around, doing things, but really what Matt knew how to do was shoot and blow things up with C-4, and it looked like both of those tasks had become unnecessary, at least for the moment. He couldn't exactly feel bored, though, given that he was in mortal peril, which left him to think about the ocean spray on his face and the way everything had fallen apart in about two seconds.
"I wonder when the other boot's gonna drop," he said.
"What?" Dax shouted.
"I mean, they didn't wait all night to miss us with potshots and then let us run away from their really slow tanker," Matt clarified.
"What do you mean, 'miss?'" Dax said.
Matt paused, did a quick headcount. It looked like nobody was missing, but he realized Dax was clutching his leg, and some of the others were hunched over someone lying on the deck. It was too dark to make much out, especially since everyone was wearing all fucking black, but Matt had a pretty good guess they were dealing with at least one potentially-fatal injury.
"You gonna be okay?" he asked Dax.
"Not sure. Bleeding pretty bad, but not dead yet," Dax said. That was all the incentive Matt needed to rush over to his side, digging a first aid kit from under a bench on his way. He pulled gauze and pads out, letting other stuff fall to the floor of the boat to be rolled from one side to the other by the rocking waves, but Dax held up a hand and said, "Painkillers first. I gotta be able to function."
"Yeah," Matt said, "yeah, alright."
Matt's search in the first aid kit was made momentarily easier by a flash of illumination, but this prompted him to look up just to catch a flame dying out over near the island they were racing away from. Moments later, the sound of an explosion swept over them.
"I think that was Rachel," Dax said.
"Shh," Matt said. He'd found the painkillers, and handed the bottle to Dax, who poured more pills than Matt thought was probably wise into his hand and dry-swallowed them. Matt didn't say anything about this development, just got to work bandaging Dax's leg again. He was so focused that he was taken by surprise when another pair of hands started helping out; one of the others who'd been surrounding the fallen boy was here, but Matt couldn't tell who because the guy was wearing this stupid-ass balaclava. Even in the dark, Matt could see the tearstains under the eyeholes.
"How're they doing?" Matt asked, but the guy just shook his head and closed his eyes.
Matt felt like he should do or say something, maybe even try to bring a bit of humor to the table to raise morale, but before he could come up with anything this whirring, thumping noise from back towards the ship they'd been planning to assault started up and everyone turned to look that way.
Following their gaze, Matt caught the silhouette of a helicopter taking off, then watched as it turned and sped towards them.
Monday, April 27, 2015: Australia
It was clear something was wrong long before Garnett turned the car off the main roads and headed towards the outskirts of town, but Grossi didn't say anything. Everything about Garnett's demeanor suggested he had no interest in idle conversation, and he'd made very clear that the business they had to discuss was of the utmost secrecy. Zach hadn't seemed thrilled about it, but he trusted both of them, and Grossi trusted Garnett, so here they were.The car pulled off onto a dirt access road, thumping its way along for about two miles—even after all these years, thinking in kilometers still eluded Grossi—and finally stopped at a small gate barring further access. Garnett got out of the car, opened the gate, got back in, drove through, got out and closed and locked the gate, then returned and drove them a similar distance further, until they came to a fairly nondescript field with a small stand of some sort of equipment off at one edge of the makeshift parking lot. Then, he got out of the car and gestured Grossi to join him.
"What're we doing here, Brandon?" Grossi asked. "You wanted to show me something? What is all this?"
"I'm not here to show you anything, Lucas," Garnett said. "I wanted to talk in private. Real private. It's harder than you might think around here."
His tone was cold and formal, in a way that Grossi hadn't heard in a long time, which rendered the meaning beyond the words hard to decipher. There was none of the anger that had seeped into Garnett's voice when he'd disagreed about some course of action, none of the warmth and humor that had colored their more positive interactions. There was nothing, a blank slate, and that made Grossi edgy.
"I'm not sure if you knew this, but I helped STAR get out way back in Test Run Eight," Garnett said. He was staring out into the empty field, looking with his one good eye at nothing Grossi could discern.
"No," Grossi said, "I didn't know that."
"I didn't think you did," Garnett said. "The kids don't know. I think Danya—the real Danya, not his kid—might've had an idea, but maybe he was just crazy. But I figured he was getting closer, so that's why I dipped out, right before McLocke and Kaige and Rice bit it."
Grossi didn't say anything. It was a hot day, and a dry breeze ruffled the scraggly plants in the field. Their surroundings seemed uncultivated, perhaps some sort of conservation area or wildlife preserve restricted to the public, though Grossi saw no signs of animal life.
"I spent a lot of time pretending to be someone I wasn't," Garnett said. "I did a lot of bad things to keep my cover up. But I always knew that, when the chips came down, I'd be on the right side. It wasn't easy, but that was what I told myself whenever I had to act like friends with some psychopath, or when I had to let one terrible thing happen to prevent two more."
Garnett rolled his shoulders. He was wearing a bulky leather jacket despite the heat of the day, and Grossi could see a bead of sweat forming along the bottom edge of the eye patch he wore.
"You getting nervous about the operation?" Grossi asked. "Excited that it's almost over?"
"There's not going to be an operation," Garnett said.
"What?"
"I know who you've been talking to, Lucas."
It was like a punch. Still, Grossi had learned to roll with the punches, to adapt to sudden changes—sudden changes like the one which had left him fleeing the AT along with Garnett all those years ago—so he kept as cool as he could, even as worry began to mount. Okay, so Garnett knew. What now? There was no point denying. Explain, then.
"It's not like you think," Grossi said. "She found me, somehow, and I was trying to figure out what she knew. She clearly has some sort of source on us, but she said she didn't want to see anyone die who didn't have to."
"I don't think Sonia's too concerned about avoiding unnecessary bloodshed, Lucas." Every time Garnett said Grossi's name, he intoned it with a little more venom.
"She said she was working on her own. I was trying to stall her until..." Grossi trailed off as Garnett waved his hand in the air.
"I'm not interested in excuses, Lucas. I know you're a capable enough liar. And even if you are telling the truth, it changes very little. We've been thoroughly compromised."
"Exactly," Grossi said, trying to fight the building panic. Garnett had clearly gotten, if not entirely the wrong idea, at the very least a twisted picture of what was going on. "That's what makes it so important we figure out where the leak is and how to stop it."
"There's no 'we' anymore," Garnett said. He turned, now, to face Grossi for the first time. "You messed up, bad, and you got caught."
"So that's it?" Grossi was more nervous than ever, now, but he felt something else stirring, too: anger. So that was it? All their years, all their work together, and Garnett was willing to assume the worst based on... on who even knew what? On half-heard conversations? Because it was true, to a greater or lesser extent, but it was not simple. Grossi had listened to Sonia, and he had been considering her offer, very carefully, but not, he told himself, for his own sake. He'd been trying to figure a way to keep STAR from slamming headlong into a trap, and he'd known the whole time that if he told Garnett or Zach or the others before he was sure, they'd do something rash or jeopardize the whole tenuous situation, or they'd run off into the night to hide for another decade, somewhere even further from everything, and probably still get themselves caught in the process. He'd been looking out for their best interests—his too, of course, but never solely. "What? I'm out of the club now?"
"Oh yeah, Lucas, you're out of the club now," Garnett said.
Grossi shrugged.
"Well, I guess it was nice working with you, then. Thought we had a nice thing going. Friendship and trust and all that, but I guess I'll see you on the news when whoever the actual leak is throws you under the bus again."
Garnett raised the eyebrow above his patch.
"That's not how this is going to work, Lucas," he said. "If you wanted to get out, you should've left like Ben. Or maybe even gone with Dorian."
The mention must've been aimed at spiting Grossi—while Benjirou had allegedly parted ways with the organization on passable enough terms before Garnett and Grossi had even joined, Dorian's departure had felt a little different. Dorian had, after a time in which he utterly failed to integrate with STAR, begged a lump sum from their reserves in exchange for all the information he could recall from his time in the AT's technical department and had vanished off to somewhere in Southeast Asia with a fake identity. Grossi made cracks, now and then, about him living it up in Thailand while his former comrades and victims thereof died left and right.
"You always talked big about security," Garnett continued. "The vague threats, the ominous insinuations when it seemed like the V3ers might go off course. Well, what's the only way to be really sure with someone who knows all your secrets?"
As he spoke, Garnett slipped his hand from the pocket of his jacket—Grossi hadn't even noticed him reaching in—and revealed a small revolver.
"You're kidding," Grossi said. "Brandon, this is insane. This isn't how we do things."
"This is exactly how we do things, Lucas," Garnett said. "We've just been fortunate enough not to need to so far."
Grossi took a step closer, then backed right back up when Garnett wiggled the revolver at him. His head hurt. This was wrong, all wrong. A question came to him, then, a small and stupid question, but one he had to ask.
"Does Zach know?"
"Nobody knows," Garnett said, "nobody but me."
"Good."
That got a little smile out of Garnett.
"I'll tell them you're off on assignment. You won't come back. That's all they'll have to hear, if that makes you feel better."
"I guess it does," Grossi said. "Only a little, though."
He was telling the truth, but the fear and anger were also rising and raging within him now. This was what he'd left the AT to escape. Sonia had been right. What had they become? Taking money from anyone who'd donate it, turning on each other at the drop of a hat? He'd thought about his death a number of times, of course—it came with the situation they found themselves in—but never had he thought Garnett might be the one to pull the trigger. He told himself that, were the situations reversed, he'd have listened. He'd have spent more time trying to sort the matter out, or at worst he'd've kept a suspected traitor captive.
"I'll stay in the house," he said, spurred by this thought. "I won't talk to anyone. Lock me up, I don't care."
"This is unbecoming, Lucas," Garnett said. He closed his eye for a moment, and his features softened, but when he opened it he was right back to how he had been. "I'm sorry it has to be this way. I hate it. It's tearing me up. But that changes nothing. If you have anything else you want to say, now's the time."
And in that moment, Grossi found himself making a decision he'd also never conceived of in all his hours of musing and fantasizing.
"No, Brandon," he said. "I guess there's nothing else I want to say."
Then he lunged at Garnett, pulling the knife from the back of his belt as he did.
Thursday, May 7, 2015: Australia
It was pure chaos at STAR HQ. Ki and Yu were talking over each other, the radio was howling with a recording of Jaxon Jeremiah's voice almost drowned out by gunfire, and all Zach could think was that everything had been fine five minutes ago."Cut the speakers," he shouted, and when nobody moved he said, "Ki, cut the speakers," and the boy did.
Now, with Zach having assumed command, the room fell into total silence. He thought for a moment, then said, "Yu, go get Torrie. Ki, tell me what's going on."
"It's an ambush," Ki said. "I don't know how, but they were waiting. It sounds like they've been planning this a long time. The kids weren't there—maybe they just killed them, or maybe they're on some other island who the fuck knows where."
Zach grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, glancing as he did at Yu's computer screen, but he couldn't parse any of the text quickly enough, so said to Ki, "What's everyone's status?"
Ki swallowed, and Zach closed his eyes, wondering how many of his friends were already dead.
"Rachel's crew got hit with a torpedo or something. No responses, and everyone's assuming they're gone. Dax and the rest are being chased down, one dead, a few injured. Jaxon's group is split on the island, pinned down and trying to extract, but so far their ride has eluded capture."
"Anything from Yun and Quinn?"
"They're going underground. So far no pursuit on their end, but..."
"Alright, then—" But Zach didn't finish his sentence, as the sound of nearby gunfire broke his concentration. He darted immediately across the room, digging under papers in the top drawer of a cabinet until he came up with a pistol. Guns were always close to hand in the STAR house.
"Scuttle everything," he said to Ki, who was already typing on his computer. There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and Zach stepped out into the hall, but what greeted him was Yu, clutching his arm as blood dribbled down it.
"They're coming," Yu said. "No idea how many, but they rolled up out front and just started shooting."
"Torrie?" Zach said, and Yu closed his eyes and shook his head.
"Forget the computers, Ki," Zach shouted. "Grab a gun. We're running, now."
Ki came out of the room at a sprint. His usually cheerful face was now dominated by wide eyes and tense, flat lips.
It was strange. Everything was falling apart around them, but Zach did not feel afraid. He was tense, anxious, crushed and enraged by the deaths of his friends. This wasn't what he'd pulled them together for, wasn't what they'd spent years planning for and working towards. They were going to lose. All their progress, their work, was crumbling down around them, and yet Zach felt more calm and alive than he had throughout all the planning, all the setup. He wasn't free from risk anymore. He wasn't sitting safe while everyone else took the chances.
"Come on," he said, turning and starting to run. Ki was right at his heels when he made it to the top of the back staircase, but Yu was not. Looking back, Zach saw him still standing in front of the door to the HQ room.
"Come on," Zach yelled again, but Yu shook his head.
"I'll stay and wipe what I can," the boy called, "slow them down a little."
"It doesn't matter," Zach shouted back.
"We need to," Yu said, but Zach shouted again, "It doesn't matter. Get over here," and Yu broke into a stumbling jog towards them, drops of blood from his arm speckling the floor behind him.
They hurried down the stairs, even as they heard the echo of boots on the front staircase. Slipping into the living room, Zach locked the door behind them, knowing it would buy them at most a handful of seconds and hoping that would be enough. Then it was out through the kitchen, to the back of the property. They were careful. They had vehicles in multiple places, had plans for evacuations. Nobody needed to talk.
But when they did make their way through the kitchen door and into the backyard, those careful drills and preparations proved fruitless. Two men in body armor were already there, standing along the wall at one corner of the house, and they opened fire. The siding of the house exploded into splinters. Yu screamed and toppled, clutching his gut and rolling in the grass. Zach and Ki scrambled out of the line of fire, towards the side of the house. There was always a car parked there. The AT might have reached it first. Zach could deal with that. He hadn't been on the front lines in a while, but he'd tangled with the terrorists before. While they were acting quickly, he was reacting in time with their movements.
And of course, someone was indeed waiting. As Zach whirled around the corner, he came face to face with three men holding assault rifles, one on either side of the car, and a third between them. There was no thought. Zach steadied the pistol at the target closest at hand, the man on the left, and pulled the trigger.
It was only as that man crumpled that he recognized the man in the middle, the one even now turning his rifle on them. The buzz cut and thin-lipped face, expressionless as it ever was, were familiar from briefings and STAR's files. The black body armor was standard-AT issue, but the trademark sunglasses definitely were not. Undoubtedly, Steven Wilson cut a recognizable figure.
Thursday, May 7, 2015: Undisclosed Location
There was a body at Nate's assigned position. Jaxon didn't get close enough to tell if it was Nate, his companion, or one of their attackers. It barely mattered. They took a further detour, slinking between the grey concrete warehouses. From time to time, someone far off opened fire, and sometimes Jaxon's group returned it. The whole process seemed interminable, but they were slowly but surely making their way towards the gravelly slope the marked the secondary extraction point.It was just Jaxon, Mateo, and two others left at this point—he thought Jordan and Lulu, but couldn't say for sure. Nobody was talking. The radio had gone mostly silent.
Finally, however, Jaxon had to break the spell of quiet.
"Alright," he said, gesturing, "We cross this lot, then over the fence and down the slope. Dera should be there. Then we go. No waiting. If someone goes down, leave them."
The others nodded.
Jaxon took a deep breath, counted to ten in his head, and then gave a nod.
They broke from the cover of the building, and had made it halfway to the fence before the gunfire started. Probably-Jordan cursed as he took a hit in the side, but he barely broke step. The fence wasn't tall—maybe six feet and chainlink—but it represented enough of an obstacle that Jaxon was pretty sure they weren't all going to make it. A bullet clipped the side of Mateo's face, and he howled and tumbled roughly to the other side of the fence, but kept moving. Jaxon was the last one over, and as he touched down and watched the others begin their scramble down the hill, he experienced a brief pang of hope, that maybe they'd all somehow made it through.
Then there was this feeling, like he'd been punched in the side and the leg, and he found himself spinning to the ground. Mateo looked back and yelled something, but one of the others grabbed at him and they kept moving. Jaxon tried to stand and follow, but his leg wasn't moving right and he could barely manage a kneel.
He looked back, and saw figures on the other side of the fence, now, maybe fifty feet away and closing rapidly, and he felt the blood running down his back and leg, and he almost wanted to laugh, because there wasn't a whole lot else he could do.
Friday, May 8, 2015: Undisclosed Location, 9 AM
"Good morning, Cochise High School."His voice was calm and level. In another place, it could have been the voice coming out of the speaker system on a plane, the tannoy in a train station.
"There are nine people who listened to yesterday's encouragement and failed to make it count. Nine more names crossed off the roster.
They're dead and you aren't. Contemplate that for a short while."
He paused appropriately.
"Okay, time's wasting. Let's get to it.
Jane Madison was our first unlucky loser of Day 2. Oskar Pearce found his trigger finger and Miss Madison found herself dead. I was wondering when you folks would find your safeties.
Jasmine King took a moment to declare herself the winner of the game. Good news for everyone else: ripping open your own throat does not, in fact, send you home victorious. I really didn't think that it was something that would need spelling out, but no, more fool me.
Nancy Kyle kept her momentum from the first day - and let me tell you, we have a real go-getter on our hands, here. Doing her best axe murderer impression, she took Sabrina Luz to pieces, then followed up by introducing Sanford Bricks to the business end of a screwdriver. Turns out that most anything has a business end if you try hard enough."
He 'hmm'd' to himself, loud enough to carry.
"Though, does it really count as an impression if you're actually just murdering with an axe? Answers on a postcard, everyone."
It came easily, casually enough. Quite a pair of shoes to fill, but the familiarity was simple.
It wasn't hard.
"Bradley Floyd was our next to fall, and at the hands of another repeat performer, no less. Perhaps you wouldn't credit her with the strength, but Kimiko Kao ran him through," he paused a moment. "See, I was considering making a joke here, but I think Mr Floyd already took all the good ones himself. Consolation prize.
"Brendan Harte took the honourable route when challenging Jeremiah Larkin to a duel to the death and proceeding to stab him from behind. Wait. No. Honourable isn't the word. Help me out here, kids."
Who they needed was the man in the chair. He could be the man in the chair. Wasn't really important how the words tasted when they sounded so sweet to the ears that mattered.
"Mitch Settles moped around for a little while and then shot himself in the head. Whoops.
"Familiar face number three - Isabel Ramirez is beginning to be right at home in my little announcements, isn't she? This time, Danny Brooks managed to get onto her bad side. She introduced her weapon to Mr Brooks' bad side. She stabbed him, is what I'm saying. A lot.
"Finally, Min-Jae Parker brought out a taste of brutality and gave Samuel Howard a lethal beatdown. Full marks, Mr Parker, it's always nice to see someone putting their heart into their work."
"Moving on to other matters: for the next twenty-four hours, the Utilities Compound will be considered a danger zone, so pack your bags and get out in the next ten minutes if you like your collars and necks intact. If you left some precious keepsake at the supply depot, don't lose your head about it; that area is open again."
"On a happier note, Brendan Harte was a real crowd pleaser and has won the second Best Kill Award of V6. Come along to the radio tower to collect your well-earned prize."
"Until tomorrow, kids."
DAY THREE: FRIDAY, MAY 8, 2015
Weather: The sky has cleared up from yesterday, but stormclouds are expected to move in in the afternoon. High of around 70 degrees f, 21 degrees c, at about 4 PM. The air is calm across the island, with the strongest aspect being a mild breeze on the northwest cliffs. Heavy rain is predicted to start in the late afternoon and continue into the night. It's three days after the full moon. The third announcement will come at 9 AM on May 9.Finally, no announcement is complete without rolls, and here are the rolls for this cycle:
1. Raina Rose (backslash) - Tessa Mabel Cole (Fogue, Hero card used)
2. Caleb Diamond (Ruggahissy)
3. Cameron Herrig (Deamon)
4. Kaitlyn Greene (D/N) - Oskar Pearce (Naft, Hero Card used)
5. Mia Rose (Pippin)
As always, three days for cards and danger zones and a further seven for deaths. Please remember all the rules summarized last time, and particularly to not PM anyone for death rights unless they explicitly request such PMs in this thread.
Cards/DZs:
Deaths:
