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It was, somehow, morning. A very early and dark morning. On the mansion’s roof, Knife sat, just teetering on the edge. Before, he would have been scared of falling (though that wasn’t something he’d ever admit), but there wasn’t really anything to be scared of as a ghost. He moved his tail in an imitation of how someone would swing their legs, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.
A scrabbling noise. Someone kicking against a wall, trying to climb it. Knife turned towards the sound, seeing a familiar head of frizzy brown hair pop up from the other side of the house. With all her might, Suitcase pulled herself up onto the roof, slowly walking over to Knife. She wore a soft smile the whole time.
In stark contrast, Knife looked strangely concerned. “Suitcase. Are you… do you have a death wish?” He finally managed to blurt out, not fully aware of why she had gone through the effort to get up here. She could’ve just called him down if she wanted to talk to him that badly.
His concern was met with a warm, toothy smile, one that showed the gap in her teeth and made her shine like the stars above. “No! Besides, if I did die, I could get to be a ghost! Just like you!” If she was going to be honest, Suitcase didn’t actually know if that was true. But, since MePhone couldn’t recover them anymore, she guessed that was how it would work.
”Eh, fair point.” Knife replied, a small smile similar to the one she had been wearing when she first got onto the roof crept across his face. Her happiness was infectious. “So,” he began, not sure where to start, “what’re you gonna spend the money on?”
Suitcase thought about it for a minute, looking out onto the horizon. Since MePhone left, the contestants had built quite a nice little community to live in. Houses, shops, high streets- they’d even built a new library, similar to the one that had been generated on the season three island. It was inspiring, to know that they were all capable of this. Capable of functioning without their creator, without the primal need to compete. That everyone could truly break free and live their own version of their lives. Not even just turning a new leaf. More like a new one from the tree.
”I think… I’m not quite sure how exactly, but I want to make a difference.” Although she was curled in on herself, hugging her knees, Suitcase’s tone did anything but match her body language. She was confident in her words. Confident in herself.
It made Knife smile, even just a little.
Suitcase continued. “It’s weird, to be honest. Feeling like I have so much power. I mean, I’m a millionaire now. Hey, that reminds me.” She paused, turning towards Knife. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight like topaz. Looking him dead in the eyes, staring at him, not through him, she asked, “What would you have done with the money?”
Knife paused. If he was given a million dollars, what would he do with it?
Spend it on himself, the first thing that came to mind, was the obvious answer. But that’s what season one Knife would’ve done. It’s his stereotypical core speaking. The lines of code he’d broken so far away from. The jerk he found that he didn’t relate to anymore. So, what would fleshed-out season two Knife spend a million dollars on?
”Honestly? You’re right. Spending the million on something that’ll help people is probably the best idea. But leaving a little left over to spend on myself wouldn’t be that bad either, y’know?” Knife smirked as he talked, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes with a hand. Suitcase rolled her eyes affectionately.
”Maybe I’ll save some of my money for you. Or get you something with it. Either way. Deal?” She held her hand out, her slightly chewed fingernails painted a beautiful sunflower yellow. Knife smiled again, but more genuinely. Not a cocky grin. Something real.
”Deal.” He reached his hand out to shake hers, but he felt it phase through. Uncomfortable for the both of them; Suitcase’s hand felt as if it had just been stuck in ice water, and Knife’s stung like an open wound. Both of them recoiled in shock after the feeling. It felt wrong. Like this wasn’t meant to happen. No. It wasn’t meant to happen. Knife wasn’t meant to die. Neither of them were meant to be sitting her right now. This wasn’t how the game was meant to end. It wasn’t meant to end at all.
But sometimes, “how it’s meant to happen” isn’t always how it should happen. And that goes to show that. Because as wrong as it felt, to be sitting there- one dead, one a winner- it also felt so good. So powerful.
The two of them wouldn’t have it any other way.
A gradual amber light had begun to settle in above the pair. The sun was rising. Suitcase checked her watch. “No way. It’s 6 already?”
Sure enough, it was 6 AM. Soon, everyone would be waking up, give or take and hour. Knife stood up- well, “stood” as well as he could without legs, it was more like he rose up- and turned to Suitcase, who was looking through her satchel for something. “Well,” he said with a sigh, crossing his arms, “if you ever need more early morning company, you know where I am. Can’t go far.”
She laughed a little. A sweet, soft laugh, fitting for such a sweet girl. “I’ll make sure to visit again soon. Bye for now, Knife!” She reached to hug him, but remembered too late that she couldn’t. Instead, after a moment, she decided to do finger guns at him. He let out a kind scoff, rolling his eyes and repeating the gesture back at her. That infectious smile she has was back again. This time, Knife wasn’t as good at fighting it.
Suitcase beamed to see him smiling. She crouched down, and carefully jumped off of the roof, letting out a “whoop!” of excitement as she landed. Knife didn’t even bother to tell her to be careful. He just waves at her as she rushes off to the little village, with her waving right back at him until the step she turns around.