In the Middle with Who?

[Catche Jagger]

((James Highchurch continued from The Management))

There was some relief, getting out of the banquet hall. The whole place had started to feel like a vice pressing in on James’s head, bringing pain and panic, stopping him from thinking straight. And yet, he still couldn’t relax.

His wanderings of the cruise ship’s corridors was a shitty excuse for a patrol, and James hoped the intimidation factor of the gun would make up for his lack of awareness while he anxiously paced about trying to piece the events of the day together in his head.

James clearly hadn’t been ready for this Respects thing when he signed on, that much was perfectly clear to him by now. Bacchia was definitely jumping the gun with how eager she was to kill people, but… that was kind of the point of the game? And Vasily and Fisk had stepped out with the intent to “hunt” or whatever. Hell, he’d been involved in the attempted killing of Ivan.

Yet watching Calla die still got to him.

Maybe it was just the accumulation of all that crap that was getting to him. Maybe it was the fact that he’d kept putting off thinking about how his other friends were all gonna die soon.

There was a tightness in his throat. Jesus, was he gonna cry? He was part of a goddamn gang of killers, wearing this mask, carrying a machine gun. If anything, he was the person that should be striking fear into the hearts of everybody else.

Right?

He coughed and stood still. Yep, those were tears he felt on his cheeks.

James was glad that he was wearing the mask right now.

He didn’t stand a chance on this fucking show, did he?

Hands trembling slightly as he tightened his grip on the gun, James found that his legs felt heavy, like his shoes had been filled with cement. Wasn't like he had anywhere to go anyway.

After a moment, swallowed and took a breath. James needed to do… something. Or maybe he needed to talk with someone, and not someone in the Respects, which didn’t leave him with a whole lot of options.

James hesitated for a moment, knowing that he needed to really get over himself, just like he needed to get over the crying, if he was going to get through this. After all, Claudia Ghoul’s music wasn’t that bad.

Made himself chuckle a bit at the thought. He could do this.

“Hey, uh, Claudia? Can we talk or whatever?” James spoke up, clearing his throat, gaze turning towards one of the windows, gazing into the night. His tone of voice grew more even as the spoke.

“O-Oh, also, is this like a time-limited thing? Or, like, I get three questions? Just so I know what to expect.”

[Deamon]

After a brief pause Claudia's voice comes from the collar.

"Last I checked I'm not a genie so you got or bound by time, we can have a short back and forth or something I was told by an assistant. So yeah we can talk a little. What's up?"

[Catche Jagger]

James could feel himself relax a bit more as Claudia’s voice came from the collar. He hadn’t fucked up enough yet that she wasn’t talking to him or anything. Maybe that meant that the producers hadn’t agreed to turn on them for whatever?

“Hey! Y-Yeah, it’s just… I needed to talk to somebody about the whole Respects thing.” There was some hesitation before continuing, glancing back over his shoulder, some part of him certain that he would see the masked forms of Fisk and Vasily just behind.

However, James was met with only the sight of an empty corridor and a sense of guilt. What would the others think about this, him running off to confer with a mentor.

“I just… have we fucked up? Like, really badly?” He asked, stepping to the side of the hall and resting his back up against a wall.

He wanted so very badly for the answer to be “no” and yet felt very deeply that it would be “yes.”

[Deamon]

There's another pause, broken by the sound of tapping against the microphone.

"Hmmm, well, the name is bad, so you already fucked up there. Also, the producers have told me that you can't win as a fake team, so all signs point to yes.

"As much as I'm enjoying what you're doing though I think you should figure out an exit strategy, and try to get out with as many kills or supplies as possible, because this thing you got going on, fun as it is, ain't gonna last forever."

[Catche Jagger]

“Yeah, fun…” James chuckled a bit before realizing that Claudia probably wasn’t joking. That was the fun of the show, right? The fighting and the killing and the struggle, all of which the Respects could provide plenty of.

Still, he’d been right and Claudia’s advice had indeed been for him to get out of the gang, though she also suggested that he get out with as many kills as he could which… yeah, maybe that part was better left ignored.

Then again, that was probably the part that both Claudia and Fisk would actually agree on.

“Okay, yeah. Exit strategy. I’ll… Yeah, I’ll think about that.” James gave a nod towards no one in particular.

“Anyway, I don’t want to keep you too long…” and he didn’t want to be out talking with a mentor for too long, “...hopefully I’ll stay alive long enough for us to talk again. Um, any other words of wisdom?” He asked, feeling a bit more like himself. James had options now, and options were always good.

[Deamon]

"Yep, here are some.

"Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you kill another Kraken
I'm going to shoot you."

Then the collar falls silent.

[Catche Jagger]

“Yeah, I, uh… I’ll try to keep us away from the others if I can.” James replied, not sure whether Claudia was still listening or not.

And then James was alone again.

Well, at least he wasn’t freaking out or crying anymore, which was a good start, but he still had no idea what he was doing. The whole Respects thing was sure to get him involved in more fights and deaths, which he really should’ve figured out sooner, but… well, better late than never. Worse, it was looking more and more like putting his faith in Fisk and the others’ knowledge of the game might’ve been a misstep, since their plan was probably doomed.

But what was he supposed to do? Just betray the people that trusted him? Like, shit, the other Respects were misguided, sure, but they weren’t monsters, they were just trying to survive by this game’s standards. Could he just rob them blind and run off with their shit and leave them to get killed so he could hang out with the Krakens, just because Claudia told him?

James shifted his weight off of the wall and began to walk down the corridor once again. However, his mind continued to drift, gaze a bit distant as he slowly made his way around. It was almost peaceful here, the whole arena seemingly at rest for the moment, or any fighting was at least far away for the moment.

It was probably easy for Claudia to encourage the betrayal. It was a logic-based thing, but she didn’t have to deal with the stuff that he did. She hadn’t been friends with the others before getting told that they needed to die, that they were the enemy. She wasn’t getting thrown into this arena with no idea what she was doing, only to have those friends extend a hand and put their trust in her.

Then again, maybe that trust was running thin now that he’d failed to do much of anything with Verity and now with Calla as well. How long could James keep that up before Fisk or one of the others soured on him?

A thought occurred to James. He stopped walking.

He held in his arms the best weapon of anyone in the Respects, at least to his knowledge, and there was no sign of anyone else nearby. It certainly wouldn’t be hard for him to slip away from the cruise ship and dart off into the flotilla. Even if the others did come after him, it would be easier to hide away in the dark of night.

James ran the scenario through his head, envisioning just how easy it might turn out. Surely, he had other classmates that weren’t so keen on fighting and killing and dying, and nobody would fuck with him so long as he had this machine gun on him.

He turned his gaze out a nearby window, the rest of the arena hard to make out in the darkness, with the cruise ship so bright by comparison, even with the less than impressive lighting of the corridor.

Making the call to leave now, so early in the game, with no other guaranteed allies, it would be a journey into the unknown where he’d have to make the calls for himself, but it also meant freedom to choose his own path.

There was a smile on his face, but by the time James recognized the expression, it was gone.

He stood there a moment longer.

Then turned his face from the window.

And began to make his way back to the banquet hall.

((James Highchurch continued in Try Not To Breathe))