Self Inflicted, Mind Detonator

[Pippi]

((Mercedes Guenther continued from Play Dead))

She’d left it just a fraction too long.

She could feel it before she had even gotten to the compound, that sense that she was flagging hard, that instinct that things were about to go very wrong unless she took immediate evasive action. The tingling sensation in her fingers, the white spots that appeared for a moment whenever she blinked, the dryness in her throat, the fuzzy feeling in her head that obscured little bits and pieces of her thoughts.

Fuck. She wasn’t gonna make it inside.

Well, maybe that wouldn’t be true. Maybe, if she pushed herself too far, then the very top of her goddamn head would make it through the door while the rest of her keeled over and passed out, frying on the tarmac in the midday sun like a piece of bacon in a pan. She wondered what would get her first, in that situation; the heat, surrounding her and flowing through her? Or the vultures?

Or, of course, something worse.

Mercedes took another few steps, each one slower than the last, before she came to a full stop. She kicked a pebble a little ways down the road, tensing and untensing her fingers as she did so, forcing herself to avoid the instinctive urge to clench them into a fist, now that the holes in her hands were fully exposed.

This was okay though, no, in fact, this was good. Not the fact that she couldn’t walk any further without passing out, of course, no, the fact that she had slowed down, and that she was breathing steadily, and that she was thinking this whole thing through. She had proven that she could stay level and help out when other people were panicking, now she was proving that she could keep herself calm when things looked like they were going downhill, even on top of the entire overwhelming mudslide that was this abduction and… game. If you could call it that.

At least the steps to recovery were simple and obvious enough. It was the same routine she took whenever her oven of a body began the meltdown process: water, shade, rest. There weren’t any real trees to sit underneath out here, but there were several patches of tall grass and clutches of shrubs, surrounding rocks that would provide cover from the scorching rays of the sun. She ambled over towards the nearest one, maintaining a slow and steady pace as she stepped off the road and onto a mix of dirt and sand, wincing as the grass tickled and scratched her exposed ankles and thighs.

She found the shaded side of the rock and slid down it, sitting in a surprisingly neat heap in the shadows. She half expected, as she opened up her duffel bag in search of Step 2 of her three-step plan, to have been lumbered with nothing but a bag full of rocks, or old rags, or something else useless like that. But no, right at the top, there was a large plastic bottle of water; a little crumpled and dented, but the aesthetics of the thing were hardly worth a damn. So letting them all die of exposure wasn’t an intended part of their kidnappers plan. She guessed that fit with their actions so far. If they wanted an entire class dead, they would have just shot them all during that first meeting in the corridor, just like… Yeah. She didn’t need to finish that. There was another motive behind this whole thing, then. Something that was centered around this deathmatch that she and her friends and classmates had been put into.

Mercy considered it for a few more seconds, before dismissing it entirely. Pointless to waste energy thinking about what their kidnappers wanted to get out of this. She didn’t care, because it didn’t matter to her. Their goals could have been literally anything in the universe, hers was forced to be one thing only; survive.

She downed a third of the water bottle slowly, pacing herself to avoid any horrible, lethargic bloat. She thought about dousing herself in the remainder of it, just to expedite the cooldown process, going so far as to raise the bottle above her head, a few small droplets splashing onto her forehead. But she didn’t know how much more of this precious liquid she would need. She didn’t wanna be caught short, roasting from the inside, with nothing to quench her. Besides, it wasn’t like she could leave her sodden garments on the rock to dry off and change into a fresh tank top. Not for a whole goddamn bevy of reasons.

So instead, she sat, and she waited, nestled in the grass and shade, the low hum of insects and the distant calling of birds her only companions. She didn’t move a muscle, putting all of her meditation and yoga techniques to good use, a wax mannequin lost in the desert and undergoing repairs. She was drowsy, like she always was when she came close to a blackout. It was tempting, so tempting, to just let her eyelids roll shut, but she pinched herself as hard as she could whenever she threatened to nod off. If she was gonna fall asleep on the side of a desert road, then she could at least give herself the courtesy of rolling into the gutter first, cause she sure as hell wouldn’t be getting back up again.

The hideous screech that burst from dozens of hidden speakers well and truly put any attempts at sleep outside of the realm of possibility.

Mercedes folded her arms as the owl bitch spoke, and her frown grew deeper and her expression grew darker. Again, the methods behind this goddamn madness meant absolutely jack to her; all she cared about was how she was supposed to act as a cog in their hideous machine. She was supposed to fight. She was supposed to kill the people she had grew up alongside. She was supposed to do it now.

She wondered how many people would panic and fall prey to desperation in a few minutes' time. She wondered how many people would do the opposite and wallow in despair and hopelessness. Maybe now they would have an answer to her question.

She grit her teeth and smacked the back of her hand against the rock, gently as she could but still leaving a small patch of blood as she grazed her knuckles against the stone. She still wasn’t feeling 100%, but she needed to get up and start moving, now. Time was of the essence, and finding Lincoln and August was imperative. She needed to see them, needed to talk to them, as soon as she could, before anything happened to them, before any of the myriad things that could hit them out of the blue occurred. August was quiet and timid and a total sweetheart pacifist, but he had gotten very very good at keeping himself out of sight and out of danger, and if the worst came to the worst, there wasn’t anyone else out here better equipped to defend themselves than he was. He would probably be okay by himself for a little while longer, but Lincoln? Fuck, Lincoln was easily swayed and a total pushover and too goddamn nice for his own good sometimes, and he was tiny, and he had to keep both himself and his orb in check constantly, and…

Fuck.

Hurriedly, Mercedes zipped up her bag and swung it onto her shoulder, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths; reaching panic mode against and undoing all of today’s hard work would be a small part of the worst case scenario. She got to her feet again, making her way around the rock and back towards the road.

She squinted, looking to the left, away from the compound, away from what had been her intended goal just ten, fifteen minutes ago. A group of three, walking down the road and into the wilds, backs turned and far enough in the distance that she couldn’t tell who they were, but close enough that she could match pace with them and catch up when - if - they stopped.

It was a risk. A big risk. Mercy patted the side of her leg with her hand, rapid fire, trying to make a snap decision. If she made it inside the building, she wouldn’t need to worry so goddamn badly about overheating. It was a smaller area for her to search. Maybe both her brother and her closest friend were already there, maybe they were both together by some insane luck of the draw.

Maybe. Or maybe the people leaving the compound could finally deliver her some news, tell her whether or not she’d be wasting her time going back there. Maybe one of the figures was Link or Auggie.

It was the final ‘maybe’ that tipped the scales. With one final check to make sure everything was zipped up and secured, Mercedes stepped back onto the road, and started walking once more, back the way she had come, back in search of an answer.

((Mercedes Guenther continued in Moose Omelette))