The Taste of Freedom

[SansaSaver]

M22 – NICHOLAS ROGERS: START

Nicholas Rogers was going to die.

That was the inevitable end he'd always known he was slowly trudging towards. Maybe he’d be killed in a car accident when he was twenty-two. Maybe he’d make it to a hundred and pass away in his sleep. There was always a myriad possibilities before him. But now, thanks to the generosity of his great nation, he’d have the blessing to die on television, killed by one of his classmates for the whole country to see.

Who knew how it’d happen? He thought of all the minorities he’d teased and bullied; the slurs he’d hurled so effortlessly their way. Who would blame them for finally taking vengeance? Or maybe someone who loved America more than they should would walk up behind him and pump him full of lead. But no matter what, in three days or so, he’d be dead. Even if by some miracle he was the last one left standing in this place, winning didn’t mean anything. Nobody knew what happened to them – for all he knew, they summarily executed the victors once the cameras stopped rolling.

As he sat himself on one of the park benches scattered throughout the street  and sifted through his provided bag, Nikki thought not of the future that’d been unceremoniously snatched from him, but instead of the life he’d led before. It really hadn’t been much of a life.

He thought about the boys he hadn’t kissed.

The things he hadn’t said.

The opportunities he hadn’t taken.

The choices he hadn’t made.

All because of the potential consequences - the wrath of his parents, the judgement of his peers. All the things he had never done, because of what that might mean for his future.

Three days wasn’t much of a future. Three days wasn’t a time to think about consequences. Three days wasn’t a time to second-guess his choices or let himself nurse potential regrets.

There was box sitting near the top of his designated belongings, containing his designated weapon. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but that didn't matter. It was a chocolate cheesecake, decorated in intricate fondant and maraschino cherries. The sort of thing he never really ate back home, not when he had to think about keeping in shape for basketball. There was no provided cutlery with the cake, but that didn’t matter. Nikki dug his hand into the hand and lifted a hefty handful to his lips. As he chewed and creamy richness danced across his tongue, a smile stretched across his lips.

He finally knew what freedom felt like.

[Somersault]

((KeKe Baker continued from No More A Thief))

If KeKe had to be totally honest about one thing she was incredibly crappy at, it was directions. Going left to right, trying not to get lost and get into a dark alleyway and get shanked or beat up, she had to admit she was not that great at getting around Denver. Sure, she knew which places to avoid, the semi-legal shortcuts, but giving her a map and tell her to find a way to a specific location? Yeeeeah, that was not going to end well.

It was especially not going to end well when placed somewhere in the middle of Mexico, and so she had been wandering from the wet market or whatever, holding onto her stun gun with a death grip and desperately hoping that she wasn't about to get murdered out of nowhere.

KeKe was most definitely going to remain herself here come hell or high water, but that still didn't mean she wanted to die so quickly. The only way she would be going out was with a fight, and a stray bullet coming out of nowhere and obliterating her brain did not exactly fit that criteria. Wasn't that she was bitter or anything that she was alone again, but it would've nice to have had more than her own increasingly morbid thoughts for company. Just someone to rant and ramble at, someone whose company she could at least tolerate, rather than having the urge to throw their ass into a garbage fire and laugh as they burned.

Thankfully, only a select few people fit that, but as she continued to approach the figure, and made out red hair and a tall-ass guy, she could immediately start placing bets on who it was. It was him.

Nicky Rogers, racist basketball dude. Currently eating something, while sitting on a bench.

....the fuck?

It took a lot of her concentration to keep from falling over onto the pavement, especially considering her shoe situation at the moment. She loved her high heels, but they were still impractical as fuck. They definitely weren't gonna win her any points for smart outfit choice, but they were still hers. That made them just about as good. Even better in some departments, other than the whole avoiding becoming a murder victim one.

From this distance, KeKe still wasn't sure whether the other guy could see her from this distance or not, and was even more unsure of whether she should try to start some shit up. On the few occasions she had crossed paths with him, he seemed to be a spineless asshole who said some pretty nasty shit, but he had cake. What the hell could he do to her?

"Yo," she called out, hand not holding the stun gun waving in the air. "your last meal filling you up?"

Was as awkward as two fourteen-year olds trying to get it on, but it was something.

[SansaSaver]

Nikki was pulled out of the mellow mood the cake had placed over him by a call not too far in the distance. He opened his eyes and squinted, trying to make out the new arrival. He was glad to finally have company.

KeKe Baker. Someone he’d crossed paths with several times at school, and never in any positive situation. She was an easy target for verbal barbs and the like, a prime example of why minorities were so poorly thought of. Nikki knew there had to be more to her than that, but when it came time to vent his stress or spark some sense of patriotic approval in his peers, it was just so simple to through a slur or two her way. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop the pangs of guilt he’d feel afterwards.

Here though, there was no need for impoliteness or acidic jabs. Just a return of her wave and a bright, genuine smile.

“Hey KeKe. It’s pretty good! Would you like some?” He patted the space on the bench beside him, hoping she’d come forward. “I didn’t get a fork with it, but I figure that doesn’t matter too much in a place like this, y’know?”

Maybe she’d react to his offer with peace and take a slice, or maybe she’d stick that stun gun of hers into his neck – and maybe he’d let her. Either way, whatever would happen, would happen.

[Somersault]

She continued to walk closer, looking at Nicky. Looking at the smile on his face, the cake in his hand. He was acting so friendly, like they weren't out to go murder each other or whatever, but all that was on KeKe's mind was how fucking weird this all was. Unlike with the whole Mina thing, it was Nikki who was the asshole to her, and not the other way around. Instead of continuing to be an asshole, he was just waving, smiling, like nothing was wrong.

That was the thing that seemed the most wrong about this entire situation. Earlier, she'd been content with just shooting all the shit, loitering about and what the hell ever because it'd give her some piece of normal to hold onto in this mess, but what he was doing, what he was saying? It rang in her head like denial.

Coping with that was gonna be hard, and trying to act like she didn't feel waaaay off in this situation was going to be even harder, but KeKe guessed she kinda had to do that now. Act as if everything was chill, everything was okay, but she wasn't too great at hiding shit. To be fair, she could hide some things, like the whole deal with Tyrone, how it was so hard to come back home and see her parents waiting for someone they knew would never ever come back, but that was behind a mask of anger, a mask of confidence, rather than one made of simple compliments and niceties.

Even here, even when faced with a guy who could probably snap her neck if he really wanted to, she couldn't do that. Couldn't act like everything was good, when it so clearly wasn't. Had to look behind the curtain, reveal the shit show for what it was, or at least know. Know what the deal was, know whatever was going through his head.

" 'Kay, that's really nice of you, offering food and all." She waved the offer of a seat and some food away, though, even as she continued to approach the guy, holding her stun gun, pointed straight at the ground. No need to lose her mind. No need to fall into the trap that they tried to put right under her fight. "But, how the fuck are you smiling here?"

That familiar anger was back in her fingertips, eager to be used, but it felt different now. As if there was more to it, another angle. Something sadder, something that may have been lost years and years ago.

But, for now, an explanation was all she wanted. An explanation was all she needed.

[SansaSaver]

Nikki’s smile faltered as KeKe questioned it.

There were people out there – his friends, people he’d eaten lunch with or borrowed stationary from – frightened, crying, wanting to be back home in comfort and warmth. Nikki tried to imagine what that would’ve been like, to walk into his home to pleasant smiles and comforting arms. It was trickier than it ought to have been.

So many of his classmates weren’t able to see some light in what was happening, and why should they? The world outside had so much to offer so many of them, and it’d been snatched away from them all so swiftly. Here, he had a chance to make up for what he’d done, but most of them didn’t need to soothe their consciences. They’d been good all through their life. This wasn’t karmic retribution for any of them.

So why was he smiling? There was a bright side for him, but that didn’t erase any of that torment his fellow participants were experiencing, and as that realisation dawned on him, the corners of his lips turned down and the grin that’d once been plastered across his features was washed away in a wave of self-disgust.

“I’m not smiling now,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I saw something bright in this place, just for a moment.”

He gently placed his cheesecake down beside him. He didn’t have much of an appetite now.

“Back home I had all these things to worry about, actions I took, all ‘cause of the future. But now that we’ve been dumped in this place I don’t think I have one anymore. A future, that is. I don’t think I’m gonna make it out of here. So I wanna spend what time I have left tryna do some good. Doing things I never let myself do before. I feel like I’m free of everything that I let hold me back, back home, and I wanna try ‘n’ make up for the wrongs I’ve done.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I said and did back at school. I really am, KeKe.

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

[Somersault]

"Guess not killing me would sort of count for that," KeKe uttered somewhat mindlessly, as she blankly listened to what Nicky had to say. It wasn't as if she really meant for her off-handed comment to come off that harshly, but it was just so easy to pretend that they were back in the hallways, ready to fire off another charged barb at one another. Back to screaming out who was a ho and who was a racist-ass mofo, but it wasn't as simple as that. Not here, at the very least.

She turned the stun gun in her grip over and over, still looking at the other boy's face. There was no smile left on his face, which helped some of the uneasiness in her gut dissipate, but only some. Maybe it would've helped if she had smiled along with him, had acted understanding and solemn, but that just wasn't her. The screaming banshee at National Summit wasn't exactly her, either, but it was a reasonable enough connection to how she actually was. Close enough to not be too difficult to grasp for, far enough that it didn't get tangled in some identity shit. Simple, without actually being so. Increasingly, that seemed to describe more and more of the (well, two) people she had come across so far.

It was much easier for her to ignore them when they were mainly just annoying faces in the hallway, assholes to avoid and somesuch, but now, they were here, and KeKe was at a loss to do when all her normal social rules were thrown out the fucking window, and onto Death Island. It wasn't especially possible to prepare for that.

That wasn't true, of course; people her age watched the Program all the time, probably discussed what they were gonna go do  there, strategies, tactics, but she had never cared for them.  It didn't seem like a particularly wise decision, seeing as how she already had one massive lightning rod of hate going for her anyways.

Wasn't as if she wasn't trying to live, though, but maybe it was just a temporary reprieve from an inevitable death. Didn't help her mood much, but wasn't that why she was talking all the damn time? Just to ward off the fear, the loneliness, even just for a few seconds.

Asking for Nicky's comeuppance to be his life or his bag seemed like the most obvious option, maybe even the one he was most expecting, but damn the world if KeKe was going to go down that road.

"Mmm, I get what you mean," she said, nodding with an eyebrow raised. "But what kind of good are we talking 'bout here?"

Good was a broad as hell thing, but maybe trying to do something and dying for it would be better. Better than entirely coming to grips with this, and just slowly sinking in instead. Just had to not drown.

[SansaSaver]

What kind of good?

Keke’s question left Nikki’s mouth dry, his brain racing as he tried to conjure an answer to her question – an honest, productive one at that. What good could he really do here? Back home, he would’ve had a dozen answers. He would apologise to those he’d wronged, he’d make amends as best he could – protect them from his other antagonistic peers, give what pocket money he earned and old clothes he’d outgrown to those who were in dire straits. But now, when the world was so different, when the time they had left was trickling away, when a simple “I’m sorry” wasn’t worth all that much when you only had a day left to live, what good could he really do?

“Honestly? I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” He winced as he trailed off, knowing it wasn’t likely what KeKe wanted to hear. How could she truly believe he meant to wholeheartedly follow through on his plan if there wasn’t really any plan to begin with – and just a loose, vague concept of ‘good’ to go off?

“If you’ve got any ideas, I’d love to hear ‘em – I’m not likely to say no to them,” he added, softly.

When the highest price he had to pay was his life – and something he’d already accepted as having been lost – it seemed silly for him to refuse any request that might come his way.

[Somersault]

Nikki still seemed a bit touched in the head, which really was not a tasteful as fuck thing to call someone, but still, KeKe couldn't help but feel a little pissed at his remark about actually not knowing what to do. Of course she was fucking asking him what kind of good because she knew what to do - wasn't as if she was a psychic or something, was she? Yes, yes, maybe she shouldn't have assumed so much of him, but she just wanted some kind of clue.

"Seriously, you got nothing? Nothing at all?"

The hand holding the stun gun tightened, and she had to remind herself that this wasn't high school anymore, that shooting shit off wasn't gonna help her not get killed, but just as soon as it seemed that she could make some kind of breakthrough, of course there was only shit in it's place a few seconds after.

There still was the question though, and maybe turning over a new leaf wouldn't be so hard, even if she already felt her small slivers of patience steadily ebbing away.

"I mean, go try to find people who aren't crazy, that kind of shit?" KeKe's face still held an amount of discontent, but it was more measured now, focused. She always danced best when she was angry, pushing that frustration into another jump or a twirl, so maybe this would be the same.

Goals were something to focus on, and right now, that was enough.

[Somersault]

Was he just not going to speak to her? Just gonna do the whole silent game, right after he made that whole big show of knowing nothing about nothing? Oh, hell no. KeKe was not just going to sit here and listen to some dude run his mouth. KeKe was not just going to sit here and watch as her world burned around. KeKe had some kind of goal, she just had to... just had to create it, make it into something actually clear. Make something out of being placed into a living nightmare, rise up and float above all the haters. Make magic, for once in her life.

It was obvious she could do it, but that just meant she had to leave this dumbass behind. It was simple as that, just tossing the trash into the can and strutting off. It should have been that easy, should have been as good as gold. Rather than being that kinda perpetual motion machine though, she had found herself here, still standing. Still waiting.

With great effort, KeKe forced herself to turn around and begin walking away from Nikki. Couldn't wait for answers, not when everything was on the line here. Besides, she didn't know him that well, did she? No, no, just some white boy she could file away, ignore, and do her buh-bye and go on her merry way sorta-thing.

There shouldn't have been anything involved, but there was a conversation. Maybe that was enough for her to know him, or at least know more than a simple racist douche. Too connected, too quickly, and in too deadly of a situation.

She shook her head, and continued to walk as her high heels continued clicking. It was all for the best.

((KeKe Baker continued elsewhere))