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Published:
2024-01-02
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2024-02-07
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3/?
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A Cornucopia of Calamity

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“I'm sorry.”

His breath brushed against her cheek, and Isa released a shutter of disgust, regret. 

“I'm sorry, professor. I—... I didn't mean to embarrass you.” 

She could hear as he swallowed some spit, his one arm reaching out past her and picking up a thin blade from the table before them. Her hands tightened on his legs as she shifted on his lap, an almost squirming motion. 

He held her with his other hand, gliding from her shoulder to her spine before she met the hard surface of the table with a thud.

Blonde locks pulled down her neck like thick webbings, a salty taste filling her mouth as it spilled open, “I'm sorry sir, I'm sorry!”

“So loud,” He hummed, his thumb carressing the blade before its base met her back, clean of any scarring or blemishes. “So pathetic.”

“I trusted you,” He pulled at her head, fingers interlocked with sandy hair as he forced her neck back. “And you broke it.”

“I didn't mean to,” Harsh hiccups followed her wallowing, “I’m foolish.”

“Maybe this will help you learn. Remember, I do this to teach you, I do this because I love you.”

...

“I know.”

 

Slipping the light garments around her arms, Isa's eyes lit up as she examined herself in the mirror. Emily leaned against her back, pulling on the baby blue strings of the corset before pressing her chin to the girl’s shoulder, “Is that too tight?”

Isa shook her head, smiling softly as she admired herself.

Last night, Emily had informed her that she'd be getting a new outfit that was commissioned by the Manor Owner. She didn't entirely understand why, but Emily said something about how it's for participant bonding.

Most of the dress was a light, powdery blue with snowflakes adorned along the organza which stretched down to the floor. Beneath those were thick lace frills which curled around the end of the main silk sleeves, and beneath her skirt formulating a small petticoat under the almost see-through overlaid threads. 

She felt like a princess in it, and she didn’t exactly hide it either. Doing a small twirl as Emily patted off her skirt. 

Isa twitched at Emily’s fingers which traced her back, or more specifically the scarring of it and she pulled away from her quickly. Her lip was pulled into a tight pout, a judgemental yet concerned expression Isa was all too familiar with. 

Isa didn't want to meet her eyes, but it felt more shameful to look away. 

There was so much she could tell Emily wished to say, and yet this was no place to say it. Instead, she just guided her attention back to her clothes.

A decision that Isa appreciated. 

Adjusting the lace choker around her neck, she glanced at the small veil on the vanity. It was much like the rest of the organza, a soft blue with snowflakes, though attached to it was a silver tiara with small moonstones decorating the tips.

Emily helped her put it on, laying it over her sandy hair which had been undone and laid across her shoulders with gentle curls that swept against her neck, paired with light blue hair extensions that draped on the sides beside her cheeks. 

Isa found it strange looking, having never seen colored hair before.

“Now, don't you just look darling?” One of the other women complimented, running a finger across Isa's cheek as she flustered. A hurried nod was her response, leaning over the vanity to pick up some of the makeup before turning to Emily to ask for help.

Emily hummed, before taking the lipstick and gently applying it to her face. 

“What a mother you've become,” the same girl teased, and Isa flickered her eyes at her. 

She had short black hair that curled over her ears, and a small button nose that seemed almost too up-pointed. 

“I'm only doing what's helpful,” Emily retorted calmly, brushing off a small smudged speck of the light red applicant. “It's no trouble to me.”

Isa was relieved to hear that Emily didn't mind helping her, her fingers curling into the mixture of soft and itchy fabric dressing her body.

She so badly wanted to ask why she was getting so dressed up when no one else was, but her attention kept getting stolen by the chatter of the other women, their conversation proving to be more intriguing than her thoughts.

When Emily finally finished, she stepped back to admire her work. “Lovely,” the corners of her lips pulled slightly before she bent down and held out the heeled shoes Isa’s dress had come with.

“Have you worn heels before?”

Isa shook her head, pursing her lips as she took one of the shoes, gliding her fingers against the soft ribbons that entangled around the base.

“Quite inconvenient,” Emily noted, “though the Baron  has always seemed to be in favor of aesthetics rather than practicality.”

Quirking a brow, Isa knelt on the floor, slipping in her foot. She felt the cold, icy touch of the glass-like material hit her foot, and she couldn't help but wonder how the manor owner got her sizes all exact.

Was she just easy to read, or did they steal her measurements while she was unconscious?

Either way made Isa uncomfortable.

She pushed her palms against the side of the table, and pulled herself up with a gentle wobble. Her legs had only begun to feel better, though any changes couldn’t have been noticed with the heels on. 

Taking one final look at herself in the mirror, she struggled to form a full smile. It had been forever since the last time she had gotten all done up, makeup and all. 

The last time was the reason she stopped. 

Wiping the edge of her thumb to her lips, she softly smeared it across her face, much to Emily’s dismay. 

“Do you not like it?” She asked, though Isa only glanced back at her for a moment. 

And in that moment, she gave her a hard gaze. One that was almost impossible to read thoroughly. 

Emily turned away, grabbing a tissue before holding it out to her, “would you like to wipe it off?” 

No,” Isa thought, shaking her head before walking past the older woman. Her lacy gloves wrapped around the doorknob, opening it as Emily stood beside her.

“Don't forget this,” the doctor held out a small kit with wires, wrenches, screwdrivers and other items that Isa had stored in her luggage. However, they looked different. 

It had an icy exterior, a gentle blue with sparkly white dots covering the edges. They almost looked more like toys than real tools, but as Isa took the kit from her, she felt the weight transfer over to her hands. 

“Are you a mechanic of some kind?” Emily couldn't help but be curious, and Isa swallowed some spit, “we have a mechanic, y’know. I'm sure she'd love to hear there's someone with similar interests.”

I'm not a mechanic,” she thought, but none of it left her lips as she pivoted on her new heels and stepped out the door. “ I'm not anything anymore.” 

Emily kept her pace the same as the young girl, guiding her through the winding hallways and creaking staircases until they came to a thick door, which seemed almost hidden within the corridors, as if it didn't belong.

“I wish I could explain everything to you, warn you, but it's out of my right as a participant to do so.” 

Her voice was shaken, almost frightened which seemed so strange. Emily often wore a calm and composed exterior, so to see her like this almost made Isa start to panic herself. 

“All I can say is to protect yourself, play it safe for now and listen to your teammates. They're experienced, they know what to do. Oh, and one more thing,” Emily paused while walking away, “Keep an eye on your heart rate.” 

Cocking a brow, Isa nodded, twisting open the door as she entered and took in the faces of her supposed “teammates”, or at least that's what she guessed they were. 

 

Most of them didn't even shift at the sound of her coming in, a deafening silence as she scuffled to her seat with an uneasy aura. 

She took this chance to really drink in their features, their clothes, everything they had. 

She recognized one of them, a curly haired blonde who passed her a wide smile when she sat next to him. She spotted him the other day at dinner. Isa hadn't stayed to eat with everyone but her seat was supposed to be next to him. 

Hm, freckles,” If she were any closer to him, she could count them.

“Ah, Isabelle right?” The man broke the silence, and slowly Isa nodded before pointing to him. At that, his smile grew and he almost sat from his seat but stopped himself. Opting instead to swing his legs around to face her, “Name’s Mike Morton, famed— er- well, not so much anymore— acrobat! At your service!”

Isa stared at him up and down, as it clicked in her mind. His clothes were very frilly, but it matched hers for some strange reason.

He had a jester’s hat on, its pattern mimicking gusts of wind as the bells on it were replaced with the same snowflakes she had on her dress. Then, she realized they were all matching. Is this what Emily meant by participant bonding? 

“Ohh, so you've finally realized?” Leaning back in his seat, Mike smirked, “I think I wear this theme best but you look great too.” 

Isa rolled her eyes, and she heard one of the other's scoff, a light ‘tch’ as she tilted her head to look at him. 

Pale, icy skin with matching almost white hair. Though, it looked more stained than anything else. A single red eye met hers as he reared his head, and Isa almost flinched. 

“Well good afternoon to you too, Kreiss,” Mike sat up, peeking over Isa's head to get a good look at the albino who seemed focused on him just the same. 

Falling his attention to Isa, “Kreiss” lightly shook his head, “keep it down, will you?” His voice sounded oddly familiar, and Isa couldn't help but lean a bit closer to him. 

Nothing about him seemed like anything she'd seen before and yet his voice seemed almost haunting. 

Where has she heard him before?

“What do you want...? Get out of my face,” He spat, though his tone wasn't as loud nor harsh as he seemed to want it to be. Isa just lowered her chin before raising a finger to point at him. 

“What?”

“I think she wants your name,” Mike whispered, though it was more of a rasp. Kreiss huffed lightly, looking away from the others as his hands clasped together. 

“If you must… Andrew Kreiss. There.” 

Nothing about his name was familiar, maybe she's heard in passing though she never met anyone with that name or his face. Pressing her fingers against her lips, she lightly picked at the plush skin as her other hand traveled to her tool kit. 

Inside was her name, engraved in an almost poetic handwriting, one she's never seen before.

Mike leaned against her shoulder, pressing his chin hitting against her cheek as he read it outloud. 

Isa shuttered at the warm sensation of his skin, and she pushed him from her quickly. Mike didn't blink or waver, supposedly used to it as he gave her a small grin.

“Full name, Isabelle Samuels, hm? Nice name, kiddo.”

Isa shook her head hurriedly, dismissing his words before holding out the name to the other two present at the table. They didn't bother looking at it as they had already heard from Mike, but their expressions were vastly different. 

The unnamed man barely even flickered his eyes to their conversation, rubbing his fingers together as he used them as support for the side of his head. An empty look as he expressed pure disinterest in what was being said. 

Andrew, however, almost dug through her skin with his eyes which were wide in what could be considered shock. 

His lips squeezed into a thin line as he sucked in his cheeks, eyes scouring her face for the most minute details. 

His staring made her cower, shifting in her seat as she returned the look. 

After a few seconds, he blinked repeatedly and slipped his hands to cup his face with a sigh. “My apologies,” he muttered, “perhaps I'm mistaking you for someone else.” 

Isa nodded, deciding it'd be best not to push for the truth. Frankly, she didn't want to know. 

Tapping her fingers against the aged, and scratched up surface of the room, she stifled a sneeze from all the dust that seemed to float around the room. 

The rest of the manor seemed so pristine, and well cared for but this room looked almost abandoned. 

“You've got this,” Mike gave her a small thumbs up, “Just— work on the ciphers while we do all the work, okay? We’ll go easy on you for your first match.”

Isa shrugged, the word ‘cipher’ striking important as she reflected back to what Emily had said earlier. No one seemed in a rush to explain what they were, so it was likely they assumed she had already been told. 

Internally, she argued with herself if she should break her silence and ask about everything. 

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a ticking clock, and the men murmured their chorus of “good luck" and “goodbye” which made her rise from her seat, confused by the sudden speech of departing. 

The lights cut out, and Isa could smell a strange scent fill the room. It was like lavender, mixed with

jasmine and some strange chemical that burned over the other two smells. 

Isa cracked open her lips, and the smell further filled her lungs. Fluttering her eyes, she succumbed to the overarching urge to fall asleep. 

 

 

Beeping was the first sound to enter Isa's ears as her eyes fluttered, and she slowly sat up from the floor beneath her. Cold, stone flooring.

Dusting herself off, she glanced around for a source before all attention settled on a strange device tucked beside a strange barrier of sorts, beside it was a large blue pallet.

Was this place unfinished?

It was strange, one moment she was at the manor and the next she was at the center of what looked like a small city, yellow lanterns strum up in the air as she picked up on the ornate style of town. 

A lot of red muddled with soft browns that were pleasing to the eye despite the strange aura that Isa couldn't bring herself to ignore.

She approached the device cautiously, small shocks of electricity sitting out from its chirping sides every so often. 

With a hesitant hand, Isa's fingers made contact with the keyboard. A strange chorus of beeps pursued her touch, making her jolt back in slight surprise.

“How curious. I wonder what this does.”

She ran her fingers against it, tapping the side as it seemed to respond to her contact. A brow raised as a small meter began to increase gradually, it was very slow but the coloration was filling with a bright yellow liquid. 

“Very curious.”

Isa came to the verdict that this was a good thing, continuing to beat against its side a few more times before a strange ring sounded from the device, it shook firmly. Isa paused, turning her head at the sudden change in reaction and after a few seconds it sent a shock to her.

A yelp escaped her lips, hands raised defensively at the smoke and blue light that bit at her. A weird buzzer sound rang out after it, and Isa looked around to try and find the source. 

After a few moments of silence, Isa returned to the device once more, “this time I'll be more careful ,” she told herself. 

The outer working of the cipher intrigued her, but not as much as the idea of how the inside could possibly be like.

Falling to her knees, Isa opened her case of tools, and quickly pulled out the shimmering screwdriver. She found its appearance unnecessary and inefficient; however, its aesthetic was rather nice on the eyes compared to the plain black one she typically carried.

Screwing off the one side, her lips pulled into a smirk. Gears, circuits and multicolored wires. All familiar shapes and items that she couldn't wait to get her hands on. Bringing her tools closer, she waited no longer to begin tinkering with the device, it's jittering form increasing in speed as she worked, soft hums erupting from her throat as she seemed so lost in it. 

In the corner of her eye, she spotted the meter rising, though much faster than before. It seems like she figured out she needed the tools for…

Thump. 

Something felt off. Sweat beaded down her forehead, and her hands started to get oddly clammy against the silk gloves. 

Thump. 

Her breathing felt hoarse, and it began to get hard to focus on the contraption as her mind began to spin and sway as if she had been lodged into a nightmare.

Thump. 

Was her heart always racing this fast? Emily did say something about her heart rate… maybe she should find somewhere to calm down. 

And then she saw it.

Icy horns that reached up to the sky with threatening spikes, a cape of white fur that blew in the wind, glowing blue eyes digging into her form with a violent hunger Isa had almost forgotten the sensation of. 

A thick length of chains swung in the air, a heavy sound of metal on ice that made her skin crawl.

“Run. Please— fuck move your feet!” Her inner pleas meant nothing as the burly figure slowly cam closer in view. 

She teared up, her jaw clenched before it released into aggressive gasps of air. “ Why can't I move? Why am I so scared ..”

It was as if she had entered a radius of pure fear upon seeing the animalistic being. 

Frosty air emitted from the nostrils of the skull mask that decorated his face, and finally, Isa built up the courage to lift her feet from the ground. She spun on her heel, lips pulled into a scowl as she internally pleaded for an escape. 

Pain shot through her spine, a groan clotted in her throat as gravity fought against her. The sickle of ice split past her skin, a crackle of bones and guts that poked through her now ripped her new gown within seconds before she was yanked backwards. 

Harsh wind worked against her, crimson leaking as speckles onto the floor her feet managed to plant themselves to. 

Isa glanced over her shoulder, her hands clutching her side as the weapon was dislodged from her, albeit rather forcefully as another cry reverberated from her throat. 

Those same ghostly eyes met hers, and for a moment Isa could see past them into the real ones that hid beneath them. 

She was snapped out of it as the deer-like figure raised the hook, its light coloration now stained a dark rose tint from her blood as it poured down to his fingers that wrapped around its handle. 

She tried to move her feet, but she felt so slow, so weary. 

The sickle slashed her shoulder, and she met with a sudden burst of energy. Isa ran forward, one hand still on her waist as she dove back for the same pallet. Something about it drew her to it, like she should prioritize being near it. 

The man was quick to follow after taking a few seconds to clean off his weapon from her red leakage. 

His breaths were almost as ragged as hers yet he kept the same stride. The silver chain dragged behind him, a piercing sound as Isa shoved down the pallet and ran off toward a building to her left.

She didn't know what she was doing, or where she was going. She just knew she wanted to get away. 

It wasn't long until that same hook was sent flying towards her, and although this time Isa tried to move out of the way, it managed to hit her spine this time. 

Her back arched, jolting as her throat tore into a piercing screech. 

She was dragged back, though it was slower as her attacker seemed to be mindful of where she was hit.

How considerate.

After he hit her again, Isa fell to the floor, her knees scratching the cold, unfinished tiles as blood splattered from her back.

Salt mixed with iron as she pressed her palms to her cheeks, smearing her blood over her face in an attempt to ground herself. This couldn't possibly be reality. 

She was going to die at the hands of a crazy lunatic, who for some reason, had also matched her in attire with the same shades of blues and white. 

Her fingers nimbly reached to try and cover the hole in her side that had been pierced earlier, now joined by a less deeper hole that cut incredibly close to her spine.

She was stopped though, as the man’s hands wrapped around her waist, hiking her over his shoulder in a swift motion. She was barely anything to him, light as a feather despite the squirming she attempted. 

“Please… no no no, put me down, put me down! don't touch me— don't...

Her back slammed against a hard surface, thin cushioning barely providing any comfort against her back before the man pulled thin strips of barbed wire over her chest and a bar was placed in front of her.

Isa's eyes darted around frantically, a strange ticking sound filling the air as she tried to gather any sense of what he had strapped her to. 

It was hard to see, but something resembling rockets were tied to either side of the chair and she could only guess what they were for.

“What is this!?” 

Here she was crying, confusion muddled with pure horror. Dirt clung to her face, as did her hair which was sticky with sweat, strands practically glued to her jaw. 

She felt dead already.

 

The man wasn't looking at her, he didn't seem to be able to bring himself to. Was it empathy? Or was he annoyed by her cries? She'd have assumed so, if not for how his shoulders were so tensed at every gasp of air she took, each whimper of pure dismay. 

“I want to go home… I want to go home,” Even in her own mind, her voice broke into croaks of sobs. 

For a moment, she really did think she was dead.

And then the sound of burrowing filled her ears.

Turning down her head, Isa's eyes followed the unusual rise in the concrete, brown dirt peeking out from the cracks as she could hear light breathing from underneath her.

“Was someone down there…?” Were they here to hurt her too? The thought alone rattled her. 

But as the deer man slammed his sickle into the ground, the familiar mop of snowy hair came into view. 

“Mr Kreiss,” A hitched breath finally escaped her lips, the pressure of the restraints left her body as the hunched form of the man pulled her with him. 

His tone was low as it was from before, though it carried a hint of urgency with it. 

“Run,” It was a simple command, one that Isa didn't find herself against following. 

He stood behind her, his hand on her back as he pushed her forward. It was strangely comforting, despite Isa's distaste for any physical contact she could only find herself thankful that she wasn't alone here. 

Their attacker wasn't long in returning to the pursuit, this time using his weapon to pull himself closer to them. The loud crashing of it causes Isa to stumble and slow down in her step. 

Andrew’s presence kept her calm, his eyes not leaving the burly deer headed figure. 

“When I signal you, I want you to run right… Mr Gupta is decoding nearby there, he'll help you.” 

Isa didn't have time to ask who that was, but she could make an easy guess on who it had referred to. She nodded, a small grunt of confirmation that she had heard him before he pushed her toward a pallet. 

Isa moved beside it, waiting for him to follow.

Andrew was certainly pushy, not paying her much mind as his focus was just on keeping them alive. 

Isa was certainly thankful for that. 

 

She watched as he slammed the pallet down, a loud sound of cracking played as it met the back of their pursuers head. 

Isa would've laughed at that any other day, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything but run as Andrew had told her to. 

Despite her injuries, Isa was swift on her feet, young agility rising over the pain as it mixed with her adrenaline. She'd have to thank him later for this.

As her heart slowly calmed, Isa twisted her head around, her eyes falling on another one of those devices she saw earlier. This time, it was occupied by the man from before, his warm skin decorated by icy shards that mimicked the look of being beneath it.

Isa walked toward him, her heels clicking as she grumbled in discomfort. Emily was certainly correct, they were definitely inconvenient considering the situation. 

She reached out a hand to brush against the man’s shoulder, but he had sensed her presence, dark eyes meeting hers as he seemed to scan her face for intentions.

It wasn't long till his hands dropped to his side, brows furrowed in what looked to be concern. 

“You need help, here,” he outstretched a hand, though Isa didn't look at it, her focus was focused on his face as she examined him with curiosity. Some of the scarring that stretched across his jaw and eyes seemed fake, however the one on his nose stuck out to her, a deep engraving to show it was real. His accent was new too, it had an interesting feel to her that left only intrigue. 

Slowly blinking away the thought, her gaze dropped to his gloved hand which, much like his face, had ice decorating it. 

Isa shook her head, backing away. 

The last thing she needed right now was someone touching her. 

One of the man’s eyebrows raised, his lips quirked in confusion before he lowered his hand, “How do you expect to get healed otherwise?”

It was a fair question, but Isa didn't have a very fair answer. 

She hummed, shrugging her shoulders before her arms lifted to cross over each other, the long droopy sleeves that dressed them slinking down to her elbows. 

The man, ‘Mr Gupta’, sighed before turning to stand more or so beside her, glancing at her shaky form out of the corner of his eye. 

“I get it. I don't like it either, but it's better than slowly bleeding out. I'll try my best to avoid too much contact, how does that sound?” 

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Isa thought it over. “He's not wrong… but I wish he was… Hell, I wish I wasn't here to begin with.” 

Slowly facing him, Isa lowered her arms and nodded. Her eyes lingered on her feet, not lifting her head to look up at him, though her teammate didn't seem to mind much. 

He knelt in front of her, running a hand from her side to her back to check where the injuries were in the first place. 

Isa seethed, the pressure sending a spike of pain through her as Mr Gupta muttered an apology.

“This one goes straight through you… how the hell am I gonna…?” The man’s mumbling made Isa uneasy, signaling to her that he didn't have much experience when it came to fixing up serious injuries. 

His work was much more sloppy compared to that of Emily’s, his hands fumbling with the bandages every so often as he tried to wrap them around her waist without touching her too much. 

Even then, Isa appreciated it much more, as Emily would have likely struggled with the same thing. 

It took a while, but Gupta managed to patch Isa up relatively well, at least enough to stifle the bleeding. 

She still felt dizzy, leaning against the wall for support as she drifted to the cipher to help him finish it. 

Every so often, her eyes would flash to him, how the sweat would bead from the tip of his nose, how fast and efficient he was with the keyboard despite his visible distaste for decoding. 

Were all the games like this? 

Is that why everyone but her seemed so calm, or at least a lot less frightened? 

Isa chewed on the side of her mouth, only stopping when her nerves reacted with a spike of pain.

 

 

It was now the last cipher, Mike had done a good enough kite to last them long enough for it to almost reach the top of the meter. 

Gupta’s hand pressed to her shoulder as it rose, pulling her attention away as he followed the motion with a low mutter. 

“Don't pop it yet, let me handle it. You go to the exit gate.” 

“The exit what?” 

Isa blinked, her head tilted at him to ask to explain what he had just said. Gupta stared at her for a moment, the gentle hues of his eyes softening as he understood her confusion, a low hum from his throat as he spoke once more, “Go all the way down there, turn left and you’ll see a keypad beside a large pair of doors. Wait there until I pop it.”

Slowly nodding at the information, Isa pivoted on her heel, softly clicking the glassy material beneath her as her vision settled on what Ganji had described. 

“So this is our taste of freedom? A simple gate is what's keeping us here?” 

 

Coming to a halt, her gaze fell to a parchment loosely taped above the keypad, a string of numbers that she had easily guessed were an exit code. 

Isa attempted to type it out, but the buttons wouldn't budge beneath any pressure she had applied to it. 

“Damn.” 

She heard a loud alarm go off, making her heart speed up rapidly for a few seconds. 

As Ganji had said, she had waited for him to “pop” it and quickly she started to enter the long string of numbers. 

It wasn't hard, although for some reason instead of providing the code within itself, half of the numbers seemed scratched out while others required math equations.

Perhaps it was done to make the decoding slower? Nonetheless, it wasn't too hard for her to decipher it, her dressed hand quickly beating against the buttons in sharp clacks. 

“Alright… simple. I’ll just finish this gate, and I can go back to the manor… seems easy enough— what's that noise?” 

Red and black smoke emitted from beside her, and Isa faltered to the side, her messy dress causing her to stumble over as she attempted to flee. 

A sharp pain rose in her shoulder as she was slammed to the ground, the same man from before stood above her. His decrepit skull mask, eyes now glowing a blood red as he stared back at her like a wolf watching a lamb.

 

The moment replayed in her mind like a broken record. The screaming. Crying, begging as she watched her supposed teammates flee through the same door she had worked on opening for them all. 

 

The apologies didn't matter to her, even when Gupta had attempted to save her using one of his cricket balls, it was ineffective, resulting in the deja vu sensation of her locked in another chair. 

 

“This isn't fair…” She hiccuped as her thoughts fought each other, “Do I deserve this?” 

 

The ticking came to a stop as a sharp ringing occured from above her, her eyes flickering from the loud alarm and her attacker. 

Her lip pulled into a trembling pout, and for a moment she could sense empathy in those ruby gems. 

It hurt. It hurt to say. 

 

“I want my brother…!”

 

Spinning against the fickle wind as it tore into her flesh, eating at her bones as she felt her limbs get torn off by the aggressive nature of the air itself. 

Screaming didn't help, frankly it did the opposite as her mouth outstretched open, tearing her cheeks into threads of flesh and muscle until her lower jaw was barely holding on. 

Death itself was her saving grace, and even that didn't last long. 

 

The cold touch of Emily’s fingers traced her forehead as she checked her temperature. Isa’s eyes were wide, unmoving as her body seemed to shake. 

Everything hurt, and yet there were no injuries besides the one she had sustained before she was… what did Emily say it was? Chaired?

“I'm sorry, Isabelle,” Emily’s voice slipped past the girl’s thoughts, and Isa lifted her head to nimbly glance at her. 

“I was hoping you'd make it through the match… You had a good group… I should've warned you— my faith was false, I see that now.”

Isa tensed, her brows furrowing. Why didn't anyone tell her? Warn her? She had already met several faces within the three days she had finally been awake and yet not a soul communicated to her what was waiting for her behind the title of a “match”, a “game”.

Were they not allowed? Or had they assumed someone else would? Already did? Not a single possible answer was enough to satisfy her as she stared daggers at Emily. 

“How are you feeling? Do you want to stay here any longer?” 

Isa shook her head, even if she was in pain she'd rather just sleep in her own bed. Her eyes trailed to the other sleeping figures, whose conditions seemed worse than hers. She recognized a certain brunette mop of hair, the man from the other day who was painting in the entrance hall. 

Was she lucky compared to some of the others?

Emily flicked her syringe with her index finger, setting it aside before her chocolate gaze rested back on Isa's leaned figure. 

“Would you like to check the progress board?” 

Isa's brow raised, her attention fleeting from her malice thoughts to the doctor before slowly nodding, intrigued by what that could be. 

Emily offered the younger survivor a hand, but she refused, standing up herself with a small grunt. 

“Very well,” Emily waved a hand, beckoning her to follow as they exited into the hallway. 

Trailing down to the staircase, Emily stopped them right beside it. 

“I didn't notice that at first…”

On the board was a list of different matches, some completed, some not. One of the files in the middle was her match, the same names and faces to go along with it. 

Plucking the papers, Isa looked through them, her eyes first taking in the other participants' identities and scores. 

They hadn't lied about who they were, though they had no need to. 

Andrew Kreiss” - Gravekeeper 

“Mike Morton” - Acrobat

“Ganji Gupta” - Batter

“Bane Perez” - Gamekeeper

 

Isa’s breath hitched at that, lingering all interest onto the fourth name. Bane Perez, that must've been the man who… killed her? 

Is it really murder if she was still standing there, alive? 

The titles beside their names confused her just as much, and she couldn't help but question what hers was, if she had one. Her finger ran along the edge of the stack before it stopped at her’s.

“Isabelle Samuels” - “Apprentice”

 

She frowned at the quotations around her title, although it wasn't necessarily a lie. Technically, she wasn't an apprentice anymore, she wasn't anything close.

Rather, she was a runaway, a hopeless little girl with nothing to her name and no one to bring value it. 

Everything on the paper besides her name confused her deeply. 

“What the hell is a worker bee? Containing time… four minutes!? That's so little compared to Mike’s,” She'd have pouted at it, but of course it meant nothing compared to the acrobat’s. He was experienced in this field after all. 

It just made her sick. The feeling of someone else being better than her was unfamiliar, almost unreal. 

Her scores were much sadder compared to everyone else’s, besides her “tranquility” points which was higher than Mike’s, but again it was to be expected.

Emily placed a hand to the girl’s shoulder, resulting in a panicked flinch and a mumbled apology. 

“Not too bad for your first match, at least you won.”

Leaning closer, she whispered in Isa's ear with a small smile, “All of us struggled when we first came here, so don't feel singled out, or less than. Most people here will be patient with you.”

Most. 

That word lingered with Isa as she thought back to her teammates. They were so patient, so calm with her despite being utterly clueless the entire time. 

Although the betrayal hurt, the fact she was still alive and standing, the fact they likely experienced the same thing before, made her feel a lot more comforted.

Perhaps she should thank them later… they tried more than she did the whole time. 

Pinning the paperwork back up, Isa turned to Emily before pointing at the pictures of the three men that were all lined up crooked.

Emily went silent for a moment before speaking, “Join us for dinner tonight, they'll all be there.”

Isa huffed, but after a pregnant pause she nodded. 

“It won't hurt… I suppose…”

 

Her hands subconsciously tucked into the side of her dress, searching for the small orb to fiddle with.

Nothing.

 Isa's heart dropped. Of course, it had been left in her uniform pocket. 

Isa immediately ran to the dressing room, having remembered where it was, almost right across from Emily’s make-shift office. 

 

Pushing open the door, heads turned to her immediately. 

“Ms Samuels,” The short haired woman from before called to her, “Are you going to change out of that already?” Her nose scrunched, before giggling softly. 

“Can't say I blame you, the design is rather tacky.”

Isa ignored her, heading for her clothes which were left in the same stall, though her jacket had fallen to the floor.

Picking it up, Isa searched through the blazer pocket. 

Empty. 

 

“Empty…?”

 

Isa looked around, crawling on the floor as she pressed her cheek against the cold tiles, scouring for any sign of the shining gold sphere.

She wasn't sure why she was so fixated on it, but it's appearance striked important to her. 

“Looking for something?” 

Isabelle looked up at the black haired woman, quickly nodding before pointing at her. 

“I didn't take anything,” She hummed, “Although some of the boys were in here earlier… maybe one of them has whatever it is?” 

Great. 

Yet another goose chase for Isa to take on.

At least this one she might be able to get away with over dinner. She'll just have to be as sneaky as possible.

Do-able, it seemed. 

 

Notes:

Trying to write matches is certainly difficult... trying to balance out the realism with the game mechanics is definitely a challenge but a fun one.
I tried to include small details such as the rush of energy after the last cipher pops, as well as what I think the fear radius feels like.

I tried my best to follow the layout of China Town in my head but it was TOUGH.

also the cosmetics weren't something I randomly came up with, I've BEEN holding onto those skin designs, I'm working on the reference sheets for them TEHE— but anyways, yippie I finally got the chance to update. This was a fat chapter, my bad <3