15strangers | WEEK 4

WEEK 4

[A third of those of you who came here are now dead.

Its a sobering thought as everyone wakes up the next day to find their profiles updated once more, with Rosie and Naoya now added to the list of the discarded. There's an entire empty room, in terms of humans - Rocky, Murray, Elly, and a a strangely new and realistic robot bird are still there, somehow. Someone will need to take care of them now that their owners are gone.

Just like last week, no one has regained their memories, but their powers have evolved. Also like last week, a new floor has opened for those remaining to explore. It's...definitely different from the previous ones, to be sure. Emptier, more militaristic. And very, very large.

Maybe that's where the transport will arrive? Whatever the case, Marie's claim about the universe - if she's telling the truth - means there's less than two weeks left before the universe's destruction. If anyone has not yet thought of a way out that doesn't involve killing, the time to figure something out may be running out for everyone.

Meanwhile, even despite the lack of Naoya to hack the computers, the random computers belting out shittyfluting has, if anything, increased in their frequency. Which is definitely odd, since no one else has tried to hack into the computers...right?

There are ten strangers in this place.]

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I mean I haven't - I'm stayin' awake on purpose, Ange, it is my fault this time.

[And he's swaying a little bit as he says that. Takes a moment to steady himself.]

I don't wanna see everybody die.

[inhales

exhales

boi]

Okay, there's a lot to unpack here, but for starters, like... Isn't that just gonna make it easier for some killer to target YOU?

[He groans, and rubs his eyes. It's not a surprisingly childish gesture at this point, it's a typically childish one.]

And if they did?

[Another groan, this one sounding for all the world like a stymied dachshund. Not that he ever had a dog, but....]

Just... when you pass out you don't dream, right?

[Oh. Sweet summer child. The smile jerks wider on her face - from the trial it's pretty obvious that it's when she picks her words carefully like knives.]

You think you can't have depressing dreams when you're awake?

[The impression Jonathan gives now is of a golden retriever puppy surrounded by the remains of an expensive down jacket. He knows he did something very wrong, but he doesn't understand what.]

I didn't say that. I didn't mean it either.

[She smiles more gently again. It's a forceful reapplication process like slamming the bottom of a glass to pour out the last few ounces of a milkshake.]

Well, good. I just want you to be safe. I've pulled a couple all-nighters to get ready for the runway, it's not pretty. Heavy lifting on more than one night of no sleep? Forget it! We need you in tip-top shape, mister!

[She punches him in the arm like as a joke because he's so strong and when you see buff muscles you punch them, as a joke... but is it really a joke?]

[There is something really wrong and Jonathan is starting to think it's his fault. That smile looks calm but seeing it snap into place, for lack of a better description... the way she just flickered right back to her usual sunny self after that moment of the way she'd spoken at the trial -

and son of a gun, that punch actually hurt.

He's running on bleak stubbornness and caffeine, there is no poker face here. That left when the pallor and eye circles moved in about a day ago. He doesn't look wary so much as a very childlike mix of worried and afraid.]

Angela, did I do something - are you mad at me? It's... I understand that, but....

[She takes the rosary out of her pocket and lifts it in his face like it's a picture book where she has to sound out the big words for him.]

I don't know, maybe you tried to kill yourself to save that demon-loving bastard? And apparently haven't stopped trying either? [Putting it back in her pocket with what she likely intended as a knowledgeable smile.] But of course you have all these reasons I wouldn't understand; I'm just dead weight, anyway.

You - you're not the -

[That smile was chilling.

She still has Quincey's rosary. The only family heirloom he gives half a damn about and it's in the hands of someone who's apparently decided he's not getting it back. Of course, she's right to keep it, it's not like he deserves to have it after... she's right. He'd literally set out to take a fatal fall for - but he'd - his entire body aches right now and his heart's quickly setting out to match it.]

Angela, I was talking about me. Not you. God, never you, I wouldn't -

How am I supposed to know that?

[Look at her big eyes, Jonathan! She's such a ditz! Where would that complicated idea fit into her pretty little head?]

You want people who help us all get out alive to survive, right? The most useful thing I ever did was finger Naoya, and [fanning out her hands] you don't even like that, do you?

The... the first day we were here you were already trying to pull people together to fight this place, to get along even when we were all told what we were here for. You made everybody coffee. And then clothes, and... and then the wake for Akira and - [he can't say Vita's name, if she sees him like this he will die, of shame - ]

...and I practically ruined that. All I've done here is try to save my own skin and get mad at people for no reason. You've been trying to help the whole time and that's not useless.

[Everything in him is screaming that something is wrong and he needs to fix it because it's his fault, but he doesn't know what it is.

She heard what he said and she didn't. She didn't hear what he said at all, she heard something he didn't say between the words he did. You can't unsay things once they're said.

He doesn't know how to fix this, and it's making him feel helpless, like a kid, and that's not going to take him anywhere good....]

...why do you people keep bullshitting me like this?

[The relentless quality of her expression remains, but her voice at least shifted down a gear into a physically softer noise.]

If couture mattered like you guys pretend, I'd never have to work... another day in my life...

's not bullshit. You deserve... you deserve so much better than any of this. You've only been trying to help people. The clothes are part of it, but the rest's you.

[Ordinarily he'd hate how tiny his voice just turned, thin and weak and shaken. Right now it matches how he feels - like he's a scared kid in a too-damn-tall body, completely unsure of what to do or what to say.]

[What is he doing all the way up there? He's so cute. She bridges the gap with her eyes.]

My partner in coffee crimes trusted a cord more than me. I couldn't even protect [beat...] my own roommate. [Angela jabs him in the chest with her index finger.] At least you've stayed on the right side of things so far. You don't get to mess that up now!

[He sways a bit at the poke, and it's not being overdramatic: he wasn't expecting it, and he's dead on his feet. Not a great combination for balance.

He's still confused.]

Are... you're not mad at me, then? We're okay?

[She genuinely scared him, all right?]

[See, he thinks we were mad at him! I told you, this is why we should be more patient!

But what if we ARE mad at him? He wanted the guy who killed Christian to NOT DIE!

Okay, is that his fault? Obviously Johnny has other issues if he's this young and literally, well, you know. Naoya was creepy towards him, too... not that different from Akira, really.

Alright, we were outta line, especially punching him.

Angela narrows her dead eyes at Jonathan for a long time.]

Of course. I don't hate you, like, at all. I'm just so worried after everything that's happened, I don't know what else to even do.

[So worried she doesn't know what else to do but hate, huh. That's familiar. Way, way too familiar.

Hopefully the way he slumps at her words reads as relief and not total despair. His hair's hiding most of his face, at least.]

Yeah, I... I get that, I really do.

[Of course, he's done exactly what he figured she did not even that long ago, responded to something not actually said. But he doesn't realize that... just that her eyes looked flat when she said what she just did. None of that spark he's come to know, just... dull. Defeated, maybe?]

WEEK 4

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violence cw

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cw suicidal ideation

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