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[Maraoone]

"Next question! Fuck, marry, kill: Corin, Yagmur, Jackson?"

((Britnee Joyner continues from It Matters if We All Live))

The waves lapped against the starboard of the sailboat she and Diana were in, a quiet bit of applause that bobbed them to and fro ever so slightly. It was a bit too quiet for a bit too long, so she continued.

"I'd marry Jackson, personally. Like, I know, I know he's a bit of a stick, a bit skin and not much else on the bone and all, but... he's cute, you know? He's cute. Like, sometimes you want someone that looks a bit more... innocent, you know? Basically not a fuckboy is all I'm asking for these days, and Jackson fits the bill! Plus, like, you saw how he went to bat for Alice after she died right? You saw it right? Ugh, goals. Wish there was a man in this godforsaken school like that, you know?"

She wasn't sure there was a man in the arena, at the moment. It had all been girls back on the fish boat, the one she'd woken up in, the one she'd left. The shouts she'd heard in the distance, when they'd gotten 100, 200 feet from the boat, the voices sounded girly. What they were shouting about, robbery or murder or glee or whatever, it wasn't her problem. She didn't care about it. It wasn't her problem. It was best not thought about.

"And then, and then you know I'd fuck Corin. Not that I have that much of a crush on him, really, I feel like there's a few better looking guys in our school, and his half-there half-not there stubble is highkey confusing, like, make a decision? To be honest? But... he's a bit roguish. A bit dark, mysterious, brooding, a bit... ugh, why am I using all these words? All I mean is that his fight with Yagmur turned me on T-B-H. That's all there is is to it. It made him look dangerous, and... I like that. He feels dangerous. I like dangerous.

"Until I don't."

She let out a half-laugh. Her eyes dilated a bit, she thought back to a past mistake. She turned her head to the right. Looked knowingly at Diana.

"Dangerous men have burned me a few times, you know that. But anyways that's why he's not a keeper, that's why I'm marrying Jackson and not him."

She turned her gaze back on the red-orange sky, the sun coating them in burnt shades of red.

"So you know where that leaves Yagmur, right?

It was best left unspoken.

They hadn't seen anything as they'd traipsed around the jetties, avoiding the ships, avoiding all the places with people. They'd heard shouting. They'd heard cussing. They'd heard gunshots. But they hadn't seen anything. And if you saw nothing, then maybe nothing happened. Nothing yet.

If she kept on talking, maybe she wouldn't hear the next gunshot, and that'd be just fine.

"Right."

"Like, God, that attempt at facial hair, that ish he's got all over his face is worthy of dea... yeah, yeah, like, yeah! Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against big guys and all, All Bodies Are Valid, really, really! But, the mustache thing. I can't get into it. Anyone willing to make decisions like that isn't to be trusted with a pencil, much less my li- yeah. Plus, like, I like to laugh and all, I do, I do, but I feel like if you force it as much as Yagmur does, you're compensating for something? There's a difference between, there's a difference between just naturally being funny — I mean, everyone likes a funny guy — and being annoying, and, like... bitch thinks he's a standup comedian. If I wanted to laugh at a dude I'd either watch some Netflix special or scroll down my Instagram feed or I'd look at all those lame-ass posers posing in front of their cars with pursed lips with, like, one emoji for a caption. There's just not much worth in him, is what I'm trying to say. So, that's why I'd kill... kill?"

The last word slipped out of her mouth so casually, and then it stuck itself on the roof of her mouth. Kill.




"Yeah."



She took in a sharp inhale.



Mm, whatever. Fuck marry kiss was pretty lame anyways compared to fuck marry kill. Middle school shit. She'd talk shit how she liked with who she liked. That wouldn't, couldn't change just yet.

She let out another half-laugh, closer to a giggle this time, tried her best to beam a smile at Diana.

"Girl, sorry for monopolizing the conversation, you know how I have opinions and all that, but yeah. Sorry. You? What do you think?"

[SansaSaver]

“Fuck Jackson, marry Corin, kill Yagmur.”

((Diana McIntyre continued from It Matters If We All Live))

It felt weird to be playing a game like this, but it was comforting all the same. Usually they would have already finished their individual wine coolers by this time, already far too lit whilst everybody around them was barely getting started. People would want to play a light drinking game to get in the mood, and inevitably she and Britnee would comandeer it towards SOTF. And that usually worked -- only a handful of people weren’t at least casual viewers, and they weren’t the time to be at raucous parties on a Tuesday night.

Their red solo cups would be filled with whatever dregs they could hustle out of the upperclassmen around them as they ranked winners, bemoaned their favourite fallen angels, hypothesised future season themes or twists. Their drinks would taste terrible, but that was never the goal. She wasn’t drinking four dollar cider in hopes of a fruity aftertaste or mulling over the strengths and weaknesses of different vodka brands.

But right now Diana didn’t have a cocktail of whiskey and fruit juice or generic bass music thumping away in the background. She just had Britnee and her gun and their matching bandannas. And for now, that was more than enough.

“So we have a kinda similar ranking, I think. Jackson was fit and like, he was kinda quiet and it’s always the quiet ones that lowkey know what they’re doing. In my experience at least. But I don’t know if I’d wanna be with him forever, y’know?”

“But Corin. Now, Corin is a catch. I mean, he wasn’t my winner’s pick going in -- RIP Genesis -- but when it came to the endgame I was really rooting for him. He seems like he’d be a keeper. Like, the sort to make you little gifts of pottery and all that cute stuff.”

“Which means Yagmur gets killed by default. Sorry Yags.”

“But they wouldn’t be my first choices TBH. Not gonna lie, last season had some pretty cute guys overall. Like, although he ended up being super obnoxious… Taylor was the cutest to me. He wasn’t in my fantasy league for his personality, y’know?”

“You know my taste in guys is dodge at the best of times, though, aye? So who am I to talk.”

It was surreal. To have found her best friend so early on, and for the two of them to be on the same team, even. That potential flame of conflict, of inner turmoil, immediately dampened. Soon fire would rain down on them. From where, she didn’t know. But it was coming all the same. It always did.

Time for quiet moments like this would grow shorter and shorter. So Diana wanted to hold onto this shred of times gone by.

Just for a little bit longer.

[backslash]

A voice speaks from Diana's collar addressing both girls:

"Good evening ladies, this is your mentor speaking. I hate to interrupt but it seemed an opportune time to check in. How are you two faring?"

[Maraoone]

Britnee couldn't help but snicker at that, at the idea of Diana and Taylor fucking DeVasher shacking up. Like, Britnee said she'd liked dangerous men, but she didn't mean that kind of dangerous! Not the batshit flavor of dangerous that flashes half of America and laughs while falling to his death. More like the brooding pretty man with Problems, you know?

Like, it was batshit, she was batshit for liking him, and she was about to say so! But that's what Britnee liked about her. She unapologetically caused problems on purpose for herself which, like, mood. Meant she had company while they sobbed over their poor choices in men and general life decisions together.

She smiled at the sun. Swallowed a lump. She could almost taste the near-metallic tang of beer on her tongue.

But, like, Britnee had to tell her off of course. That kind of thing could not go without reply. So, she opened her mouth, cleared her throat, raised a finger in the air to emphasize her point when a cool, accented voice interrupted the both of them.

She yelped, looked all around her, brandishing her bag. No one there. And then as it went on, she realized the voice had a tinny quality to it, and that it was coming from right next to her.

Eventually, their mentor finished speaking, and she scowled at the metal ring around Diana's neck.

"Bitch!"

She scoffed. Took a few deep breaths.

"We were having a fucking moment," she muttered under her breath.

It was a fucking good one, too.

She considered just proceeding with the conversation like nothing happened, but she remembered that they'd only have an opportunity like this once before each announcement. If she needed advice from him later on, he wouldn't answer.

If their moment had to end, they might as well make good use of it.

She swallowed another lump. Just tasted metallic now. Copper-like.

"We're fine. No injuries. Look, do you have any advice for us? You said you had some for us, right? Any suggestions on our next step?"

[backslash]

"I apologize for disrupting the ambience. I have limited opportunity to speak with you each announcement cycle and need to make the most of the time we do have."

There is a note of humor in the voice, though slightly strained.

"Given that you have found each other, are decently armed, and have managed to avoid conflict up to now - you picked a good time to clear out of the fishing trawler by the way - you're doing quite well for this stage of the game. I can't lead you directly to your other teammates, but I can let you know where you shouldn't go. I recommend staying out of the cruise ship as much as possible, as well as avoiding anyone who is... masked. You'll know what I mean if you see them."

[SansaSaver]

Diana could see the wheels turning behind Britnee’s eyes while she conjured up one of her quintissential retorts. It certainly said something about Britnee, that she possessed this calming, welcoming presence that just dragged all sorts of sordid details out of you without her even prompting it. There weren’t many people Diana felt she could confess crushing on Taylor deVasher to.

Before either of them could speak once more, a third voice entered the conversation. A tinny, crisp vibration against her throat, emanating from her collar. It felt uncomfortable, unexpected, and unwelcome. Britnee clearly felt the same way, as her first response was to cuss their mentor out. Hearing his voice drew reality right back into their laps, almost unnecessarily so. The gentle, calm lapping of the waves suddenly dripped with danger, and the once cool and relaxing silence of the sailboat felt tense and unnatural.

Based on their briefing alone, where he seemed gentle, professional, and level-headed, Diana had some confidence in Shiva as a mentor -- though there was a time when she would’ve been the first person to point out a readily prepared list of why she felt the mentor system was superfluous at best, and actively destructive at worst. But that was when she was experiencing mentor advice through compilation videos on her laptop screen at 2am when she should have been studying. Here, in the moment, though? Having someone on the outside who was rooting for them, wanted them to succeed, and who they could actually communicate with was a comfort of sorts.

It felt reassuring that he spoke positively about their current status. Allied up, armed, not in any immediate, pressing danger. There was one comment Shiva made that really pricked her ears, though, and got her imagination running. People rocking around in masks? That sounded like a b-grade horror movie gimmick and immediately she flicked through a mental rolodex of who at their school would be dumb and attention-seeking enough to think that was a good way to get stuck into this game.

It ended up being quite a substantial list.

The information they’d just been given was a lot to go off, but the sudden rush back to reality had really thrown her off balance. She could feel her heart beating heavier in her chest, could taste her words getting muddled in her mouth.

She needed just a little extra drop of reassurance

She didn’t know if Shiva had signed off already, so her question was both to him, and to Britnee.

“Do you think we have it in us to pull off a team victory?”

[Maraoone]

Another lump came into her throat.

Like, Shiva was fine, she guessed. Techno postmodern new age guru kinda guy, looked smart enough. Or maybe that was just his PR team with good marketing. Whatever. His spiel to them at the beginning had been somewhat standard from what she knew about the previous mentors. Go guys, you can do this, they say from their air-conditioned rooms miles away from all this.

The content of what he was saying was mostly fine, anyways. It genuinely was reassuring to have a third party tell her, tell them, they were doing fine as of now. But just his presence kinda made her feel like she was choking. He was a part of this game. A part of this game was here right now, speaking to her, talking to her about this game.

Diana answered the mentor for both of them with a question of her own. The question of the moment.

Could they do this?

Britnee let out a small peal of laughter, cold like the waves carrying this boat.

"I mean we have to, don't we?"

She continued looking at the sea, at the jetties beyond. Her attention on the peripheries. The smile stayed stuck on her face. It felt like it'd never come back if she let it go.

Another lump down her throat.




"...also who the fuck is roaming around in masks? Like, who the fuck does that?"

[backslash]

"I do believe you have it in you, absolutely. And, ah... I don't know if I can tell you exactly who is in the masked group, but as I said before, you'll know them if you see them."

There is a pause and the sound of a deep breath.

"One of your teammates is among them, and I advise you to avoid him especially at all costs. As for the rest of your team, they can only benefit from the fact that the two of you are already working together and have a strong rapport. I can't guide you directly to them, but I can let you know when you're close."

[SansaSaver]

“Thanks Shiva.”

Diana had hoped their mentor would give one extra shred of reassurance, and he delivered. Just hearing from someone else that the two of them had the capacity to go all the way, and not only that -- her and Britnee being an asset to their team at large? That set her heart at ease. When they had group projects or were asked to pair up in class, so often teachers would steer them away from each other, knowing they were more likely to gossip than to work. It was nice to be assured that such a bond actually mattered in a situation that was actually important.

Shiva’s latest update wasn’t all roses and ‘you can do it, guys!’, though.

So one of their own teammates was in on the Murder Masquerades. That muddied the waters a little bit, and Diana found herself really hoping she didn’t know anybody involved. She didn’t want to have to think about friendship if their paths crossed. It also spelled danger for herself and Britnee -- if their mutual member ended up doing a lot of the dirty work, any potential vengeance might be directed their way just for having matching bandannas.

In past experience, though, that kind of gimmick didn’t last very long. It might achieve notoriety, your face might be on t-shirts or coffee mugs, you’d make it on the highlight reals and honourable mentions, maybe even be on the DVD covers for people who still bought them, but in terms of survival odds it just painted a target on your back. People would get pissed off, nobody would want to legitimately work with you once your little troupe collapsed in on itself, and there’d be at least half a dozen people who’d want to at least achieve the fame of being that kid who took a big swing at a Big Killer, even if they missed.

She hoped none of the kids involved actually thought it might be helping their chances of making it to the finals.

“Legit, mask murder squad is so OTT. What’s the bet one of them loves like, those vintage horrors like Halloween or Scream?”

Diana did a mental rolodex to try and narrow down a) the kids she knew were into all those old-school movies and b) who was authoritative and organised to conjure up a murder squad so inspired by them. After a second, she realised she was pulling a blank.

“Like, honey come up with your own thing. Get everyone in their fanservice costumes and form like a cosplay murder squad.” She directed her gaze at the nearest camera. “To all y’all who end up on next season you better get onto that.”

[Maraoone]

"Thank you Shiva," Britnee said shortly after Diana, perfunctorily.

And then that was it. Diana's collar went silent, and now it was just them, the sea, and the echoes of what Shiva had said.

She'd have to talk about the team win now, right? There was nothing else to talk about, the silence felt suffocating. I mean, sure, Shiva said they could do it, he said they had it in them. But isn't that what every mentor told their team?

Last season, there'd been this mentor, Caesar, Apollonius, some Greekish kinda name, and he'd told every single person on his team that they were his favorite. Even the kid that just died. And it'd been hilarious at the time, still was actually, the compilation cut on Youtube probably had over a million views as of now. But, you see the issue here, right? They were all his favorites, they all had it in them to make the cut. And given how few ships of worth there were to really pay attention to, at least ships that Britnee was into (cause let's be real what could ever top Zach and Mae?), comedy was all Britnee was really tuning into for that season, and that season had plenty of laughs to provide, like Taylor and she was digressing she needed to get back on track.

So yeah the point here was that they all died too. Everyone on Caesar's team died.

Shiva said they were good enough, but for Britnee, that wasn't good enough.

Then again, it was never enough. Being one person's favorite wasn't enough.

She wanted to be everyone's favorite.

She stared off into the rest of the arena. She stared at all the boats. All the possible universes.

Her ears were filled with either the splash of the waves or the intake and outtake of air from her lungs. She couldn't tell.

Diana spoke eventually, Britnee looked at her.

Her pupils undilated, she smiled.

She'd have to really think about all this soon, yeah. But one more distraction would be fine.

"Girl you do not want to be in a cosplay murder squad with me." At this, she actually laughed, a genuine laugh, a self-deprecating one.

She dug into her bag and, after a few seconds of silence, anticipation, pulled out the long thing of chartreuse fabric, this thing that mocked her so.

"Look at it. Look at it. It's so humiliating. Like, how am I supposed to appeal to the fans in this? Like, what kind of fans am I servicing- actually never mind."

Britnee blushed, she buried her face in her hands for a moment. Quickly thought of another question to hopefully bury the old one.

"Also what kinda masks do you think they have? Masquerade-types would be creepy, don't you think? Phantom of the Opera-ish? That sounds like a cool creepy vibe for me."

[SansaSaver]

“Phantom of the Opera? That fits.” Diana could picture it now: A whole bunch of theatre kids, salty they won’t get to go to Julliard and that their last ever show was Little Shop of Horrors decide to give their best performance yet by slicing through their peers who didn’t applaud loud enough during their big solo.

“Do you think they’re singing showtunes while they’re chasing people down?”

Britnee raised a good point -- just what could they be using as masks? Something elaborate and masquerade-like would be such a cool aesthetic and probably inspire some banging fan art, but she figured it was probably something a bit more rag-tag and crafted together. Honestly, a lack of polish and improvisation would be cool too. Diana almost wanted to see what they --

She shook her head. That was silly. Shiva had warned against the masked bandits, and pondering too long on what their intentions were and their aesthetic leanings was basically inviting them to come on through into their little safe haven and break apart the beacon of tranquility she and Britnee had managed to establish.

Luckily, Britnee had provided an earlier out that she could use to pivot the conversation elsewhere, by taking Diana’s comment on a ‘fanservice cosplay squad’ to bemoan the state of her own provided costume. Diana had to stifle a snort as she gazed at the bizarre green-frog-like-morph-suit-thing. Honestly, if anybody could pull a look like that off, it’d be Britnee. She had a style all her own, putting her outfits together with an ingenuity and individuality unlike anyone Diana knew. It helped that she had an employee discount at her store as well to help bad her wardrobe out, which Diana was admittedly not above occasionally begging for.

“But this look, hun. Just wait until we’re three days in and you have to change into it ‘cause your regular clothes are too mucked up. You’d look cute in it though, not gonna lie.”

“I can’t really talk, though.” She withdrew her own bundle of misshapen, crinkly plastic from her bag. “A slutty bowling pin, really? Do you think they were stalking me and dad at the alley and thought, ah yeah -- that’ll really get the fanboys going.”

[Maraoone]

"I'm sure someone's into it," Britnee replied, followed by an exaggerated, overly awkward wink, another lively burst of laughter.

There was still this weight on her back, but at the same time, things felt light, the air felt light, it felt like she could coexist with this weight, if that made sense? Some sort of metaphor her English teacher would be proud of, fuck if she knew, what she was trying to say was that she felt happy while she felt scared, there was this nervous buzzing humming energy in the air, and it felt like it would electrocute her, electric fence, but for the meanwhile it was this pleasant tingling that she didn't want to let go of yet. Better metaphor, her English teacher would deem it satisfactory, B-.

Something Diana said made her think, though, kinda caught her on her train of thought.

She held out the lime green costume, considered it for a few moments. Stroked her chin, squinted her eyes, whatever those philosopher-pundit types on the screen would do to look all smart and shit.

Kept the suspense going a few more seconds.

Cleared her throat.

"This still really ain't it, by the way.

"I mean, I can make miracles, yeah, but not with this I don't think. Like... I'd sooner wear the bikini the producers gave us, really get the fanboys going, you hear me?"

Another burst of laughter, longer than the last. Intentionally so, so much so that when it subsided, it less sounded like laughter and more sounded like disappointment.

The last thing she stayed stuck on her mouth with a bad aftertaste, the lifeless laughter stuck with a bad aftertaste, and she didn't really understand why. Like, nothing in particular had prompted it as far as she could tell, she just knew that things were fine and then they weren't, she just knew that that electric feeling hadn't suddenly intensified, zapped her, it just disappeared, and now it just felt heavy and scary like it had before, and it wasn't supposed to feel that way because Diana was here, but somehow it still did? Something about fanboys gawking at her? And she wanted that? But they were still gawking at her from the cameras on this boat and on their collars and why was the collar pressed so tight against her neck all of a sudden?

Her hyperventilation abated by the time she realized it was happening. Diana looked at her like something was wrong with her and there was. Britnee met her gaze with a half-apologetic, half-nervous look.

"I'm sorry for being a mess, I just. I- There's a lot of things on my mind and if I don't say it now it'll continue to fuck me up, I think? I just, I need to say it now because I- my damn mind won't let me stop thinking about it. I just mean, like..."

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it stayed anyways.

"We're going for a team win, yeah? But how? What plans do you have? Do we, I mean? And like, I'm staying with you no matter what, you know that, but just... I gotta know. Gotta have a heads-up, you know?"

Nervous laughter this time. Buzzing energy non-existent, electric fence shut down, weight of the world fully on their shoulders now.

She felt like shit.

[SansaSaver]

Britnee posed that age old question; what were they actually going to do?

Sitting and chatting was lovely and almost made Diana forget about where they were and what was happening around them, but they couldn’t do that forever. Eventually they were going to have to face the fire that was already burning.

Strategy wasn’t Diana’s strong suit, nor had it ever really been a drawing card of the show for her. It’d been about the people. The character moments. The big flashy moves were great, but they only held weight when you actually cared about the people making them. The Jewels of the world who dominated compilations and airtime? Not her scene, not when you couldn’t see anything below the surface.

But with that said, half of Diana’s favourites -- the ones who let themselves screw up and be messy and authentically themselves -- rarely made it to endgame, let alone won or even had a realistic chance in the first place. So following in their footsteps and trying to duplicate whatever strategies they had -- if any -- was just asking for a midgame flame out.

That was the real problem, at the end of the day. Diana had never lingered too much on the thought of actually being in the game. It was a reality wholly removed from her own; that was the appeal. That was what drew her in and kept her watching. The chance to just escape from the mundanities and restrictions of her own life and see people free and with nothing to lose.

She was a perfect spectator. She was never meant to be the star.

So when Britnee asked what their game plan was, Diana did not have a real answer for her. So she just did the best she could.

“We’ve got each other, and we’ve got a gun. For now, we’re in a hell of a good place.” Even as she spoke and tried to inject confidence and surety into her words, she could feel every syllable fall flat.

Diana looked over to her partner once more, and could see the wheels turning in Britnee’s head; all the dark possibilities and fears brimming to the surface, and she knew she had to do something about it. She couldn’t have her imploding now. It didn’t even have anything to do with teamwork or needing a good ally. Even if Britnee was on an opposing team and had already taken out six people, Diana doubted that would make a difference. She was her friend, and the thought of her crumbling and succumbing to the game so early on broke her heart.

“Hey sweets, come here.” She shuffled over a little and pulled Britnee into a gentle embrace. It wasn’t much, but it was something, at least. She held her for awhile, trying to think of the right words to say to put her at ease, to quell her anxieties.

Nothing came. So they just sat together, enwrapped in each other’s arms. That felt like enough.

“Do you think there’s any booze around here?” Diana glanced around, trying to gauge if there were any promising crates or cupboards ripe for exploring. “I’ve needed a little something-something from the moment we started TBH.”

[Maraoone]

She didn't have any answers for her. Couldn't even tell her whether she was playing or not, and that was somehow scarier than either answer she could have possibly had. Like, if Diana had told her straight off the bat, no hesitation that yes, they were about to kill some bitches, then... she didn't think she would like it, but she could ride along with it. And if she decided that they would go for a pacifist run or try to disable some collars or whatever, whatever crazy-ass plan Diana had in mind, then she'd go along with that too. Diana was her ride or die, after all, and she realized that she meant it in the truest sense of that phrase now.

But, if Diana, if she, of all people, couldn't come up with an answer for any of her questions, then that meant that they were just two girls sitting in this tiny boat in the middle of this huge flotilla, afraid and alone. Her throat felt like it was tightening. It really felt like she couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't—

She felt arms around her. She— she was so fucking worried, they needed a plan, they needed to do something— arms around her.

She wanted to get up, she wanted to— it felt warm here.

If they didn't do something now, they'd die, they'd fucking die, they needed to— it felt safe here.

They needed—


They—



It felt warm here.


It felt safe here.






She put her arms around Diana. Held her tight. Her breaths slowed down.

Okay.

Okay.

This was fine.

They needed to, they needed to, yes, but not yet. The game wasn't here yet.

They were two girls afraid and alone on a boat, yes, but for now, they were just that. Nothing more, nothing less.

The game would come to them when it would. It was not here yet, and so they would not invite it here yet.


They had time.




Britnee held on for a few more seconds, perhaps half a minute or so, after Diana's latest question. She then let go, looked at Diana with eyes brimming with something, sparkling. Slight smile on her face.

"I, uh... I think I saw a little something when I was taking inventory on my supplies this morning."

She retrieved her bag. Dug her hand around there.

"It ain't much, but..."

Brushed the round plastic bottle of acid.

"Uh..."

Moved past it till she felt the cold glass flask of rum.

Pulled it out.

"It's something. You should have it too, I think. I'm pretty sure it's part of our supplies. Anyways...

"Cheers."

---

The next announcement passed, and then the next, just like that. No intruders, no betrayals, just them, the boat, and those disembodied words passing through the night, and then the morning.

The biggest shock of all was that Seo-yun had killed. It seemed unlike her, is what she wanted to say at first. Like, she'd always been so pretty, and so nice, and just. Iconic, was the word that always came to mind. Iconic. The idea of her standing over someone, dripping with blood, was just really fucking weird. Unbecoming, is what she wanted to say. But, the more Britnee thought about it, the more it made sense, kinda, in its own highkey fucked up way.

Seo-yun was good at everything she did. So why wouldn't she be good at SOTF?

But yeah that happened.

There was also Vasily. She liked him. He went out of his way to compliment her on her clothes, her latest crop top, her skirt she'd altered herself, which, fucking thank you, finally someone in this school recognizes her genius. it meant a lot. And she'd reciprocate back because, cohesive sense of fashion or not (definitely not), at least he had a sense of vision about his look.

And now he'd shown up on the announcements... twice now? Yeah twice.

And that happened too. They were things that just happened. She and Diana would acknowledge it for a bit, and then they'd continue to try to pass by the hours. Talking, sleeping, eating, whatever.

The long-emptied glass bottles of rum clinked as the boats rocked them to the side a bit. It was some unspecified time in the day, the sun making it onto her legs, but not past, partially blocked off by the roof of the cabin they were in. Britnee idly nudged at the bottles with her foot, enjoyed the clinking noises for a bit.

She hadn't expected SOTF to be so... boring. Like, it made sense. There were 24 hours in a day, and it wasn't like the contestants spent every single minute killing or fighting or fucking or whatever. That's why the highlight reels were there. And she and Diana definitely wouldn't be on them, not just yet.

Britnee frowned a bit at that.

It would come to them when it would. Diana had a gun, she had a bottle of acid. They didn't have to be in a rush.

She looked around a bit, at all the boats around them. All the possibilities.

Sleeper heroes were a thing. Sleeper villains too.

Anyways.

Maybe part of why she felt so funky was, like, they were already well past the time of day that she would've showered, toweled herself off, applied skincare because skincare is life and having smooth skin like this took time and work, and yeah. Everything about this show aside, she felt off.

Her eyes lingered on the ocean a bit. On the cameras.

She'd read somewhere that sea salt did wonders for your skin.

She turned to Diana.

"Hey, girl. I'm gonna try and bathe myself a bit in the ocean. Like, right next to the boat, don't worry. Just get myself nice and clean. Since you have the gun and all, could you, uh, keep watch for a bit?"

[SansaSaver]

Rum wasn’t Diana’s drink of choice.

It was too heavy, too bitter. Made her feel like she was a pirate singing sea shanties and trying to fight off scurvy. And then there was, y’know, The Incident.

She’d only been going to book club meetings for a few weeks at that point, but she really vibed with most of the other kids in the group. They were chill and friendly, always had recommendations for new books to explore or strong points about whatever was latest on their list. They were unafraid to look silly unlike a lot of the more popular kids, who held onto their unblemished images like a badge of honour.

It started when a senior named Benjy, whom she’d always written off as being a little too shy and quiet but who came alive whenever any of the Brontes were mentioned, suggested they have their meeting at his family’s townhouse while his parents were away for the weekend. It would make a nice change of pace and setting from the usual set-up of a vacant classroom during lunch break; they wouldn’t have the same time restrictions and could be a bit more casual and unstructured with it.

Diana took the word ‘casual’ and ran with it. She scored a bottle of Appleton Estate from one of her coworkers at the burger bar, which wasn’t really what her usual choice, but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Benjy’s set-up had a plentiful supply of diet coke, in amongst the trays of potato chips and hummus.

So by the time the club had fully gathered and they were knee-deep in analysing the surrealism of One Hundred Years of Solitude, Diana was knee-deep in rum and coke. She wasn’t alone in her drinking -- Benjy had partaken in a couple and was practically bouncing off the walls -- but no one had gone as hard or as fast as she had.

Diana had excused herself and taken a moment to walk, dizzied and stumbling out onto the back patio to take in some fresh air. She took one step too far, and plummeted right off the edge, into the bushes below.

If anything was a sure fire sign to call it a night, making your bed in amongst a row of gardenias was most certainly it.

It hadn’t been a bad night, all things considered. It was a different group of people to party with, and Benjy’s parents only lived a tight fifteen minute walk away from Diana’s own home. It was a familiar situation, one that worked like clockwork nowadays after so many years of practice. She stumbled in, gingerly crawled to the downstairs bathroom, and let everything out, all at once.

As Diana reclined back on the cool, tiled floor, her eyes adjusted on the clock situated above the bathroom mirror, and a palpable, heavy feeling of dread settled into her heart.

7:30pm. Her parents wouldn’t quite have retired upstairs yet. They would still be in the lounge, doing their evening crosswords together.

And they would’ve heard everything.

---

Diana felt she’d done a good job of pretending to indulge in her allocated alcohol as she and Britnee weathered the next few hours in solitude together. As soon as she’d seen the name of the spirit inscribed across the bottle, her desire for a pick-up-me evaporated pretty quickly. No. This was going to be an ‘emergency’ sort of drink. A last resort. And Diana knew she could have fun with Britnee without drinking. She was special like that.

So they whittled their time as though they were back in school, reminiscing, chatting about topics both deep and inane. They weren’t shuttled about by death zones, and miraculously no one came to disturb their peace.

If this was how she spent her time in this game, that wouldn’t be too bad, all things considered. Sure, they’d probably be considered some of the worst winners in the history of the show, but at least they’d come out with minimal scars and hurt. Watching some of the winners, seeing the burdens they so visibly carried, sometimes made her wonder if it was all really worth it.

---

Diana held the bottle in her hands as the second set of announcements crackled out, ready to take a swig at any name that hit a little hard. It remained untouched. Diana felt so lucky that she hadn’t lost anyone yet, but there was a part of her that mourned the friendships she hadn’t made, the people who existed mainly as faces and loose, disconnected facts in her mind.

She and Britnee had been so lucky.

Britnee asked if Diana could keep watch while she took a quick bath, and she immediately nodded in agreement. What was the point of having such a strong method of defence and a locked-in ally if you couldn’t take advantage of it and indulge in a little luxury sometimes? There would be so many other kids desiring the same thing -- to scrub off the sins of the day, or even just the layer of sweat and grease they would’ve acquired -- who would be unable to do without fear of having the life knocked out of them.

“Sure, hun. Might take a dip after you’re finished, if that’s alright? This outfit is cute but it’s starting to get a little sour.”