ATTEMPT #5 __ JONATHAN MENON ⌈ I N P U T ; 1 5 4 7 ⌋
ATTEMPT #4 __ PIERCE ANASTASIA MHENJER ⌈ I N P U T ; 1 9 1 5 ⌋
ATTEMPT #3 __ SOPHIE NICO BENNETT ⌈ I N P U T ; 1 9 1 4 ⌋
ATTEMPT #2 __ NOËLLE MARILYN CHAMBERS ⌈ I N P U T ; 3 2 6 1 ⌋
ATTEMPT #1 __ NOËLLE MARILYN CHAMBERS ⌈ I N P U T ; J A Y N ⌋
S O L U T I O N • A N D • R E L I E F The maid, Amber, she said they called her, had locked us in the vault, but I expected nothing less. Trap or not, us being directly led to who we were looking for without any catches was simply too good to be true. JULIUS had begun to speak of the files the were set next to large vault doors that were most likely holding cells for victims of Bentley, and when he mentioned a sort of immunity, the candy came to mind, for no one I had seen had been taking any sort of medication.I had thought that the candy was dangerous, but the case was that it was the opposite of that? I felt foolish for not thinking of that, but to be frank, candy isn't the best way to ask someone to ingest something, especially when it's set to be a suspicious item in the first place.Our small group began to break up, looking from vault to vault to find those we were looking for; each of us had someone here that we were invested in, and I would not give up until I found NICO, and she was safely with me once more.Just as I was heading to the next vault, FREDDIE stepped in front of me and I briefly narrowed my eyes at being cut off. We both leaned in to read the file, and my eyes slightly widened, Sophie Nico Bennett. I thought to myself, and a large weight lifted from my shoulders, and I breathed right for the first time since I had discovered she was missing. Now the only question was, was she still alive?I read the circumstances to myself while FREDDIE vocally echoed my thoughts. He didn't seem to notice I was next to him because his voice was particularly loud. I understood his relationship with NICO was close, so for the moment, I let the annoyance slide. Came to Bentley and became involved in the Bentley Hide - and - Seek game. Was found by the group C.A.G.E. hiding in a tree. Branches were cut to get to her and she was captured. She was brought to Patrick heavily injured. Heavily injured . . . I looked over my shoulder at TORVALD. I wasn't beyond asking for his assistance, and while I was able to treat multiple wounds myself, if it were anything beyond cuts of any depth, she may need more help than I can provide.That brings a heavy feeling into my chest. Next to me, FREDDIE desperately tried to open the vault, but I knew it would not be as easy as picking a lock or typing in an access code. There was a special sort of key that we needed, and it wasn't just for NICO's vault, though I barely spared the others a second thought, it was for their's too.Calmly, I set my hands on FREDDIE's shoulders and move him away from the vault. ❝It will not open.❞ I tell him, stating the obvious, ❝We are going to need a key of some sort.❞ Unfortunately, we didn't know where we could retrieve such a key. Down the hallway was BRYAN, carelessly beating his hands into another one of the vaults. It wasn't my place to stop him, but he was going to render himself useless if he continued. I turned to JULIUS, ❝Excuse me,❞ I begin to him, ❝But you are the only one who is seemingly able to control him. Could you . . . ?❞Just then, my attention turned to the opening of a door, and I looked down the hallway to see four people. Thinking that they were from Bentley, I narrowed my eyes, and began walking forward, until I realized I recognized the one with black hair; it was CANE, and with her was DENNIS, OLIVER, AND QUENTIN. There had been others that were behind at the inn, yes? So where were they? If CANE was with them, then I surmised that something happened, and others had died.I had a brief conversation with CANE, and she then gave me a card, which . . . This was it! The key that we needed to open the vaults. I looked over my shoulder at the rest of the group, and BRYAN had finally stopped beating against the vault, looking in my direct with wild eyes. I glanced over to where FREDDIE was standing, but then sighed. I had to be logical, and remain unbias for the moment, no matter how much it pained me to do so.Lifting myself to stand straight, I made my way over to BRYAN and showed him the key, which he then tried to snatch from me, but I glared at him and slammed him into the wall. ❝Control yourself, unkempt boy.❞ I hissed venomously, feeling my patience slowly drain. He seemed angry, but I didn't have it in me to care; he should be simply glad that I was trying to open this vault before any of the others.I slid the card down the port, and hoped for the large metal door to open, but unfortunately it didn't, and then a password input was prompted. I looked back at CANE, and then back down at the password pad. What could it possibly be?❝Begin thinking of passwords.❞ I announced to the others, ❝We're going to need one to open these doors.❞
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ⌠ DAY 4 │ 1/3 ⌡ ◆ ⌠ DATE │ MARCH 17TH ⌡ ◇ ⌠ LOCATION │ INN ⌡ ⌠ MOOD │ !!! ⌡ ◇ ⌠ ❤ │ — ⌡ ◆ ⌠ MUSIC ⌡ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ They were down in the tunnels being led by Cane, who, for some reason, Quentin was glad they brought along. They walked for a little while, until Cane stopped and spoke after the group saw a girl who was humming a familiar tune to herself. For the moment, Quentin couldn't place the sound, but she walked past them and his breathing hitched. "She'll 'ave a key ter get out, I'd imagine . . . If she's dahn 'ere, though . . ." If she down here, then what? Did they need that key? That meant they needed to stop her, then. How to do . . . They could be straightforward and ask her for it, but she would probably get scared or angry, and not give it to them, when they would then have to resort to using force. "What do we do?" he asked the others, not really expecting to get an answer. "A sneak attack will probably be best." He then murmured, and began to slowly move towards the humming girl, taking care to not make much noise. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but if they needed that key, then it was a key they would have. He motioned to the others to stay where they were, and then . . . He grabbed her from behind, making her scream out, where he then held his hand over her mouth, covered by the wet towel. He would feel super guilty about this later, but there was no time for that now. He brought up his other hand to pinch her neck nerve and bring her to the ground. Hopefully, the amount of pain he was causing her would make her pass out, towel to her mouth and all. She struggled valiantly, and even hit him in the face, but after a long, long time, she just stopped moving. He clenched his eyes shut and then glanced back over at the others, and then padded her unconscious body down to snag any key or card that looked suspicious, and once he had it, he stood up, looming over her unconscious body. "S - Sorry . . ." he murmured.
⎝ DAY 5┊1/3 ⎞ ❧ ⎝ DATE┊MARCH 18TH ⎞ ❧ ⎝ LOCATION┊VAULTS ⎞⎝ MOOD┊. . . ! ⎞ ❧ ⎝ ❤??┊0% ⎞ ❧ ⎝ WEARING ⎞ ❧ ⎝ OOC┊ — ⎞ The girl had answered all of their questions, but Bryan wasn't really liking the answers because they didn't tell much. She was 'called' Amber, but he wondered whether or not it was her real name. When they finally reached the bottom, Bryan had to admit that he was glad to be out of the elevator. When the lights flickered on, he was blinded by the complete whiteness of the area and had to blink a few times to adjust his sight. A long stretch of hallway lay ahead and behind them and lining both parallel walls were large metal doors, in the shapes of circles. Without thinking about it, Bryan began to walk and glance at each of the files that were situated right next to the large doors. There were pictures, information, and names. Bryan's heart began to race. He heard other voices speaking, but he couldn't hear them because his heart was thumping loudly throughout his body as he scanned and scanned and scanned. Before he knew it, he was running from door to door, looking for the face he longed so much to see. The group was a ways away from him now, and he panted as he came upon a few more doors, not having any success. C'mon, c'mon . . . Where . . . Where is she?! She has to be here. She has to. A tight feeling grew in his throat as he passed two more vaults. On the third, he barely glanced at it before quickly moving on, but then he stopped, frozen in his place as he had seen a flash of cherry-red hair. At his sides, his fists clenched, and he took deep breaths. Slowly, he turned around and walked over to the file, leaning over to observe it. "Noëlle Marilyn Chambers." he whispered to himself, his face heating up and his nose and eyes starting to burn. He slowly, brokenly read out the situation that had brought her to Bentley, which involved an assassination attempt of Julius. Bryan blinked, and stood straight, looking at the giant vault door. He glanced, his eyes glossy, over at Julius, pointing at the door dumbly, trying to form words but nothing would come out. He ran his tanned hands through his brown hair, and then leaned against the door, pressing his forehead against it, "Noëy . . . Are you there?" he whispered, and then suddenly, violently, he pounded his fists against the hard metal, feeling the sting but not caring. The amount of times that he jabbed his fists into the door became uncountable and soon, his knuckles were bleeding and his hands were searing with pain, but he still didn't care. She was here. She was inside the vault. And no amount of metal could keep him from getting to her.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ⌠ DAY 13 │ 4/4 ⌡ ◆ ⌠ DATE │ MARCH 17TH ⌡ ◇ ⌠ LOCATION │ INN ⌡ ⌠ MOOD │ !!! ⌡ ◇ ⌠ ❤ │ — ⌡ ◆ ⌠ MUSIC ⌡ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ Another person had jolted down, following him into the fire, and they found Cane curled behind the desk while the mob outside howled obscenities at her. They didn't have time for this! He felt the sting of the heat while he and the other, Dennis, had made it to Cane, who for a moment, look like she might actually cry, and then she mumbled something about 'stupid', and Quentin noticed that there was Oliver, on her desk . . . after having fallen out of the ceiling, and now he was injured, too. He watched her mess with a lock on what was like a trap door, and he hoped they could get sanctuary in it. He looked to Oliver, checking to see if he was okay. "Can one of you dumbasses break this lock for me?" Dumbasses, indeed! Quentin took the job and had it picked open in a few long seconds that felt like an eternity. When it was done, They were all ushered in by Cane, who had seemed to return the favor of . . . Saving them. Quentin's heart almost jumped out of his chest as tears threatened to spill over. The coolness was a heavy relief as he leaned against whatever to keep up. "Oh, g - god." he let out breathing hard, and almost choking on a sob. "Thank you." he told Cane sincerely, patting her shoulder. "S - So what now . . . ?" He wondered if Zoey was okay, and if the others had gotten out.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ⌠ DAY 13 │ 4/4 ⌡ ◆ ⌠ DATE │ MARCH 17TH ⌡ ◇ ⌠ LOCATION │ INN ⌡ ⌠ MOOD │ !!! ⌡ ◇ ⌠ ❤ │ — ⌡ ◆ ⌠ MUSIC ⌡ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ There had been talking of leaving, but no one really did anything. Sharing a room with Oliver was weird, because there was a constant heaviness around him, and Quentin didn't know what to say about it. He had heard, vaguely, what happened last night at the lake, but . . . He didn't feel great, knowing that now, not only was Noëlle gone, but Sophie was, too. He felt angry and vengeful, but completely lethargic and sick. For the few time during and after the group left for Patrick's, Quentin laid out on his bed in the dark, not bothering with Oliver, who didn't bother him in turn. All of his stuff was gathered, and he was in a perpetual state of subconsciousness and preparation to leave . . . And then the yelling started. At first, he thought he might have been having a nightmare, as his dreams were usually vivid enough to make him feel even more scared of them than real life did, but when he heard Cane's name, and people screeching for her head, he shot up into a sitting position and threw an alarmed look at Oliver. Moments later, Zoey pounded on the door, loudly screaming about how they needed to leave, which was when he began to smell the smoke. She burst into the room as soon as he got up from his bed and began banging on the bathroom door, where Oliver had locked himself in. She began explaining something about Pierce, and how they could still find her, and he remembered that they were involved together in last night's events. When she kicked the door, Quentin sighed and made his way over, moving her out of the way, and quickly picking the lock; a nifty skill he had picked up when he was younger, from his aunt. When it was successfully clicked open, Quentin narrowed his eyes at Oliver. "We don't have time," he said, glancing over his shoulder and out the window, where there were hints of orange. He walked into the restroom, grabbed an armful of towels and began to run the shower on them, not worrying about getting his clothes wet. This situation wasn't good, but he had to remain calm . . . His heart thumped in his chest and his hands became shaky at the thought of being burned alive. After completely drenching about five towels that became extremely heavy, he did as Zoey instructed and draped one over her, himself, and then Oliver. "We're moving, come on." he said, feeling the wetness soak into his head, and then he grabbed his back, "Do you two have everything else? We need to gather the others. We . . ." The mob was here for Cane, right? She had helped them a lot, even if it hadn't seemed like much. "Cane, we should take her with us. We need to escape." He looked to Zoey again, noticing that she was clearly in pain, "You shouldn't have tried to open the door like that." He grabbed her hand and then wrangled her around his shoulder so that he was supporting her. He wasn't the most strong, but the adrenaline was pumping through him, and the thought of dying, being burned alive drove him even more. "It's time to go!" he loudly shouted at the rest of the group, and then arduously made his over to the stairs with Zoey in tow to see if he could find Cane. There she was, behind her desk, hiding. The flames were everywhere. What to do . . . He didn't want to see her burned alive, but they were running out of time themselves. "Cane!" he shouted, trying to figure out a plan. Letting go of Zoey, Quentin did the stupid thing and bolted down the stairs into HELLFIRE and quickly tried to make his way around the back of the desk without burning alive. It was freakishly hot.
A • N • X • I • E • T • Y Lucas felt extremely fidgety and anxious as they waited in the living room, but when Delilah came, overdressed, he might add, he calmed down for some reason, hoping they would get answers. When she offered for them to see their 'friends', BRYAN seemed to jump at the chance, and he couldn't help but think of a child from a horror movie at seeing his smile. Delilah had called the maid that seemed vaguely familiar to take them, and she nervously began to lead them to their destination. On the way, he had grabbed some of the knives in addition to the one he brought himself, and usually carried around with him all the time anyway. He briefly, almost sorrowfully wondered if SOPHIE had hers. This setup was one of the reasons he always made her carry it. After pocketing the makeshift weapons, they left the house and were led through a garden maze. Lucas commended the maid for knowing her way around so well, but it also furthered his suspicion; she obviously made this trip a lot. Had SOPHIE been led or dragged down this path? He felt vehement and vindictive at the thought. The garden was quite impressive, rivaled by Arcadia's own, and it made him think fondly of home . . . Which it wouldn't be unless he returned with SOPHIE. As the maid continues to guide them, her familiar humming tune becomes increasingly louder, and Lucas thinks that she must be extremely nervous; a feeling gone not shared. When they're led into an elevator, his own anxiety shoots through the roof and he removes his glasses once more to clean them, even though they were already spotless. He would take this opportunity to poke at the beast, TORVALD, but there was no time or emotion to spare for that. The rusted lever doesn't make him feel better. As the elevator begins its descent into the darkness, Lucas speaks up. ❝How long have you been working for the Grant family, Miss . . . ?❞ She had to have a name, yes? And if she was familiar to the lot of them, even a fake name may confirm her identity. ❝Right, your name.❞ BRYAN asks after, ❝You've got one, right?❞ He sounded on edge, and Lucas had noticed while they were walking that he seemed particularly taken with the young woman, as if he may have known her . . . He recalled his missing sister, NOËLLE; did BRYAN think that there was some correlation between her and the maid? It made him think of SOPHIE, and if — were this maid disguised, and actually was his sister — she might appear different as well. He internally laughed; she didn't like anyone changing her appearance unless it was her. He thought of the green eyes. ❝Why is it that all residents of Bentley have green eyes?❞ He was suspicious that it might have something to do with the candy. He wished that he could be more thorough in his questions, but with his anxiety, it was difficult enough as it was to think straight. ❝. . . Wha'd'you know about the candy?❞ BRYAN followed up. Lucas felt a little remorseful about interrogating the maid, since she didn't seem to have done anything wrong, but this wasn't the time to beat around the bush.
⎝ DAY 4┊4/4 ⎞ ❧ ⎝ DATE┊MARCH 17TH ⎞ ❧ ⎝ LOCATION┊PATRICK'S HOUSE ⎞⎝ MOOD┊SMILE! ⎞ ❧ ⎝ ❤??┊0% ⎞ ❧ ⎝ WEARING ⎞ ❧ ⎝ OOC┊ — ⎞ After Freddie opened the door, a maid answered, and seemed to stare at him for a longer moment before he asked about Patrick, and then she invited them in. Brown hair, green eyes. Bryan felt related to basically every fucking person in Bentley. The pink ribbon might have vaguely triggered something, but he didn't dwell too much on it as they were shown to the living room and sat down. She gave them a bowl of candy and some tea, but Bryan didn't touch it, and advised the others not to, as well. Some drugged up candy having people go psycho, and Bryan didn't feel like taking one of these others down, since they weren't really targets he wanted blood from. They were left waiting for a little while and everyone was tense and quiet, and he was pointedly directed by Torvald about being their line of defense, and where he looked at Julius and they shared a nod about it. All of his sense were on edge, and finally, when someone showed up, he almost pulled out the knife to start slicing up. When it wasn't Patrick, but his wife, Delilah, Bryan was disappointed by far. Jeez, could nothing get done right around here? She was dressed awfully fancy, and it annoyed him somehow; so much so that he kind of wanted to tear off the dress and peel of her skin. If she wasn't happen to see them, they weren't happy to see her ass either. He mentally clicked his tongue. ". . . My husband and I have some . . . preparations to make for the festival. He has gone ahead to Bentley Square . . ." Bryan looked to the others, prepared to leave for the square to confront him in a violent manner that would be a showcase for all the residents to try and waste his goddamned time. And . . . Why did she look kind of happy to see them? His shoulders tensed a little and he narrowed his eyes as she grabbed a piece of candy. ". . . I assume you're here looking for your friends." Cover blown, oh well. At least they were at an understanding. "I don't think my husband will mind . . . I can show you where they are . . ." When she outwardly offered, Bryan felt like it was a trap, but their friends were the reason the group had come, and it would have been a waste to turn back now. He changed his demeanor, and smiled a seemingly genuine and cheerful smile, "That'd be great if you could. Are you really sure he wouldn't mind?" he replied to her, standing up, and tuning his senses around him even more. There was something shitty going on around here, and Bryan didn't want to be caught off guard. He looked at the rest of the group, still smiling his unnervingly cheerful smile, "What do you guys think?" And then he returned his attention to Delilah, waiting. If things didn't go as planned, well . . . He did have a lot of pent up anxiety and bloodlust.
As far as it goes, I like this roleplay, and I am sorry to have not been posting. I enjoy my character(s), and everyone else's characters, but I go through spells of interest and disinterest, it happened with Days and it happens with Cupid's Brew. I don't want to continue to force myself to make shit posts, but if it's what's stopping the roleplay from being closed, then I'll begin to do it with as much vigor as I can. Vote; No end.
⎝ DAY 4┊4/4 ⎞ ❧ ⎝ DATE┊MARCH 17TH ⎞ ❧ ⎝ LOCATION┊PATRICK'S HOUSE ⎞⎝ MOOD┊DETERMINED ⎞ ❧ ⎝ ❤??┊0% ⎞ ❧ ⎝ WEARING ⎞ ❧ ⎝ OOC┊ — ⎞ Bryan walked around just in time to hear that the group would be splitting up into people who were going home, and people who were staying. That was fine with him; less people to worry about dying, and then actually less people to care about when/if they died. Zoey's story about the Hunger Games-esque adventure from the night before was pretty disgusting, and it pissed him off to wonder if Noëlle had to take place in something like that. Hunting her like she was a helpless doe. He clenched his fists in rage, but Julius sensed it and placed a hand on his shoulder. It took him a moment to calm down. Tucker began to talk in agreement with him, and Bryan felt inwardly relieved that he was still around. Every now and then, there was a surfacing of the less psychotic side of him, and he felt scared at what was going to happen, but with Tucker around, it was easier to deal with those emotions and steel himself for what was going to happen. Unstable or not, he was determined to find out what happened to Noëlle, and definitely wouldn't spare any effort to do it. For now Patrick was their only real lead, and he would beat the shit out of him for the answers if he had to. He would tear this entire town apart, if he had to. "I imagine you guys have your own maps, so here's another. Anyone can have it. We should go." Bryan grabbed the map from Tucker and gave it a once-over, pinning Patrick's house immediately from the address they had been given. They were down near the entrance of the Inn, standing around with their bags. Everyone who wanted to trip to Patrick's was here, and they were ready to go. He gave the group a once-over, and then looked to Julius, who nodded. He addressed those who weren't going, and gave them a map, "Here's where we're going," he began to explain, "We'll be there if you want to join us." He then walked up to Cane and spoke in a low tone to her, "I don't know much about you and your ties to this town, but you don't seem like the others. I hope you'll consider that when these others are staying. Could you keep them alive?" With that out of the way, he glanced down at the atlas that Dakota had given them, and then back up at the others. "Alright, we're going." • • • • • The atmosphere along the walk to to Patrick's house had been quiet and tense, and no one really wanted to talk, like some bomb would go off if they did. That was fine with Bryan because it was less to get on his nerves. Still, what had bothered him the most about the trek was that the streets of Bentley were . . . empty. There was pretty much no one around, not even anyone he had seen from the festival last night. Did it have something to do with the bloodbath? Ahh, he had been pretty jealous of Zoey, and wished he could have taken her place as one of the participants. How could he miss out on such a grand opportunity! Ugh . . . "I wonder where everyone is." he wondered aloud as he looked down at the map to pinpoint their location, and then took a path down a tree-enclosed road that was laid with cobblestone. Bentley was pretty picturesque when he thought about it. What kind of establishment was this place, anyway? He definitely figured that it had something do with with a cult of some sort, but what cult, and what pagan god did they pray to? The group walked until they were going up a small hill, and then when they reached the other side, there was a house in view, slightly shrouded by the trees. When they broke the path of trees, the large, white house was fully visible, and surrounded by ridiculously green grass that was well kept. Under a small arch in between the staircases was a small fountain adorned with a cupid shooting an arrow. Bryan narrowed his eyes at it as he cautiously led the group up the stairs. This place mad him feel uncomfortable. It kind of reminded him of an old plantation house, like one a person might see in Louisiana, or maybe even Florida. They walked up to the doors and Bryan gave a knock, glancing back at the others briefly. Julius nodded at him.
A • N • X • I • E • T • Y ❝They'll explain.❞ I looked over at MARIA HARTWICK and then back to the others. Slowly, I was beginning to have the feeling that I shouldn't have let myself be dismissed from NICO's side last night. Bentley gave off a dangerous aura as it was, and if something had happened to her . . . ERIK began to ask ZOEY for details, anything she could remember from the previous night, and I almost pressed her as well since my curiosity wasn't sated at all. ❝Lucas, Freddie, if you're willing to help, will you tell everyone it's best for them to head home while we're gone?❞ I blinked at the question. It wasn't as if I didn't comply with providing assistance, but NICO was not here to direct me, and . . . This was a peculiar situation for myself, but I couldn't panic — not that I would in the first place. ❝I would like to know the situation first, in full.❞ I replied plainly, and then JULIUS followed up by asking about the state of things. ❝Cane told me not to tell!❞ I narrowed my eyes. Cane, the innkeeper, yes? She also knew something about this, and if ZOEY was not going to comply, then I would have to turn to her and see for myself what has happened. Moments of silence passed and eventually I was out of my chair and about to leave the room until the girl spoke again. ❝I'm sorry, I'll tell. I don't think I can sleep anyway.❞ With that, we all began to listen to her story, and when she began to speak of the lake, campfire, and mentioned 'cult', I had figured as much. The Patrick fellow headed the operation? I had thought he was on our end of the stick, but apparently not. A game of hide-and-seek? I remembered once meeting the man named Kevin; he had seemed like the cheerful sort. How did he end up apart of such a thing? He had disappeared those three years ago, hadn't he? They had found him hiding out in Bentley . . . I felt anxious, inwardly pleading to hear anything about NICO's well-being, especially since it was a Battle Royale-style event that kept all the teenagers at the lake. Had she been involved? She was nineteen, no longer a teenager, so why would she even have to participate? Next to me, FREDDIE was stuttering at the situation, and I was at such a loss for myself, but it wasn't over the fact that probably quite a few people had died during this 'hunt', but that NICO wasn't here, and that I was undirected with what I should do. ❝We have to . . . We've got to find her. If there's even the slightest chance, we have to find her . . .❞ I looked to him next to me, and he was muttering to himself at the ground. If he was talking about NICO, he was right, but the others would most likely not care to find her. I had to find her — and I wouldn't leave Bentley until I confirmed that she was either dead or alive. From my pocket, I pulled out my phone, even though I knew there was no reception. Would the tracking chip I implanted in her phone work? I quickly type in the passcode, and then tap around to open the application that I created. After inserting the next code, I confirmed and waited. ⌊ N O T • F O U N D ⌉ Usually, LUCAS CYGNETTE has complete and perfect control over his emotions, but there has been a time or two in the past where he has completely lost it, and those situations usually involved having lost his beacon of light. After slipping his phone back into his pocket, he removed his glasses, seeming and looking quite calm, and then pulled out a cleaning cloth to wipe away any dirt or grime on his lenses. It was a method he often used to calm himself and think, and if the situation called for it, he would stand around and do it for hours. Even without good reception, SOPHIE's tracking chip was by satellite, which shouldn't even be effected by the area they were in. She could be in Siberia, and he would be able to track her down to the exact location her phone gave him. What was it about Bentley that cancelled this truth out? ❝I must find Sophie.❞ he addressed the others, and then slipped out of the room before they could protest. There wasn't much feeling or care to spare for any of the others in their group when he didn't know whether or not she was alright. On his way out of the room, Lucas passed TORVALD, who had gone inside to see to ZOEY's condition; Lucas barely paid him an ounce of attention. Sitting next to the door was the dark-haired girl, what was her name again . . . ? ❝You have it, right?❞ he asked her, looking down, ❝Patrick's address. Could you share it? I would like to go see him.❞ It was more of a demand than a request, but Lucas had to be cordial to get what he wanted, unless she'd rather him force it out of her. He hadn't been there when Cane originally gave them the address and number, but SOPHIE had mentioned something about it. ❝By yourself?❞ Lucas looked over his shoulder to see BRYAN kneading out his own arm. He was walked past, and he leaned into the room to adress the others, ❝Hey, we're going to see Patrick, like now. So for whoever's going, could you get ready now?❞ Lucas narrowed his eyes, but if this was what had to be done . . . He had a direction for the moment. Find and extract information from Patrick, by medieval methods, if necessary.
Ahh, I hope this goes well. Spoiler
A • N • X • I • E • T • Y Lucas had woken up that morning feeling unwell. His sleep had been less than satisfactory, and frankly, the strong and sickeningly sweet scent of Bentley was starting to get to his head. It was merely a combination of things that made him feel unwell, which included, but not limited to, stress, worry, frustration, vengeful rage, and slightly urging tendencies towards a few particular people. It had been difficult sharing a bed with TORVALD, for a few reasons. One, he was still a violent beast, even in his sleep, and two, Lucas had to try hard to resist physical contact of any kind with him. He sighed, and then left to the restroom to dress and put on his glasses. Having never been to Bentley before and only knowing what NICO had told him, Lucas hadn't known what to expect, but a festival certainly wasn't one thing he would have thought of. What bothered him most about it was that she told him to return to the inn, and she would go exploring herself. Clearly, that choice didn't sit well with him, but he was never one to defy orders. Still, he had to admit that she wasn't a meek little girl anymore, and that she was mostly capable of taking care of herself. Being quiet to not disturb the others, Lucas slipped out of the room and walked down the hall towards the staircase. His initial instinct was to check on NICO, but he didn't have the key to her room, and wouldn't be able to get in, which annoyed him to no end. Mostly at a loss for what to do, he stood by in the dining room, where people already seemed to be. ❝No one else knows about last night except for you two, me, Oliver, Pierce, Estelle, and Shane.❞ Lucas wondered what last night had been about. He went to sleep before much event could happen for him, which got him thinking . . . Did something happen last night? ❝Someone else was there, too. I didn't get a good look. Freddie . . .❞ He peered around the dining room to see if NICO was around, but when he didn't see her, his face fell and he glanced at the ground. What was he supposed to do now? It wasn't as if he hadn't been on his own before, but being responsible for himself was a little . . . hard, to manage. Discarding that train of thought, he took a seat a few chairs down from the others, feeling anxious. ❝Did something happen last night?❞ he asked, glancing up at ZOEY over the rim of his glasses.
⎛ DAY 3 ‖ 5/5 ⎠ ☁ ⎛ DATE ‖ MARCH 16TH ⎠ ☁ ⎛ LOCATION ‖ HELL ⎠⎛ MOOD ‖ . . . ⎠ ☁ ⎛ ❤!! ‖ 0% ⎠ ☁ ⎛ WEARING ⎠ ❝ ．．．！❞ ♡ ~ ✖ ~ ♡The night was drawing on as Sophie continued to maneuver her way through the branches of the trees. A few times, she had switched between above and below, and then once or twice found herself at the edge of the forest. No thank you, on that. Some time into the more calmer part of her walk, she had heard the sounds of rushing water, and moved towards it, reaching into her bag and flicking open her knife. It's just water . . . she thought to herself, but she was taking no chances. Her mind must have been playing cruel tricks on her because she thought she might have heard the voice of someone she recognized, and moved towards it, but no matter how much she strained her hearing, it was only water. Deep breaths. she thought to herself. I want to get back up . . . Constantly talking to herself in her mind was the only way she felt like she could keep calm and sane, even though it had probably only been an hour and some change since this hellish nightmare started. She had been seen by at least ten others, four of which wanted to pursue her, two of which died right in front of her, and the other six that mercifully let her go for whatever reason they had. So many triggers in one night. Keep calm Nico. You can do this. She could last for however much more time she had, right? She wanted to get to the other side of the river . . . ❝Hey,❞ A sudden whisper almost made her cry out in fright, and she immediately spun around to see a dull light shining in her face. She backed up to a large, thick tree trunk, hiding her knife in her pocket. The dim light was shifted to reveal a tanned face and a pair of darkened green eyes. ❝You're one of them. One of the outsiders.❞ He sounded normal. Except for that word — outsiders. She didn't reply. ❝No, no, don't worry!❞ he said in a hushed tone, ❝I'm not gonna hurt you. I don't even care about this stupid game.❞ Despite that, Sophie couldn't hop off guard. He was bigger than she was ( Who wasn't? ), but was probably younger. She wasn't really even a teenager anymore, at nineteen . . . This was ridiculous. ❝If you're not going to hurt me, then you should leave.❞ she said as monotonously as she could muster, ❝Unlike you, I was never supposed to be involved.❞ He chuckled, making her feel even more uneasy. Christ, what does he want from me? ❝You're awfully pretty.❞ he said, taking a step forward, and she leaned even farther back into the tree. ❝It's a shame you got caught up in this.❞ She narrowed her pale eyes at him. ❝Turn off that light.❞ He took another step closer. And then another. And another. I thought you said you weren't going to hurt me? she thought, not surprised in the least bit about the lie. She could see it, in his hand, a hatchet that was concealed from the light. ❝Such pretty eyes . . .❞ he murmured as the light clicked off, and then Sophie immediately spun around, her back crashing against the rough bark of the tree and probably tearing up her shirt. The shing and then clak of metal into a tree sounded off, and Sophie knew this could very well be it. She could die right now. Despite herself, ❝You're a liar.❞ she hissed as she ran away, and his footsteps followed right after. He was definitely faster than her and would no doubt catch up, but he wasn't prey — and even a cornered gazelle was dangerous. And now, Sophie found herself between a rock and a hard place — literally. She forcefully fell to the grassy ground as a whoosh headed her way, and then collided with the hard stone behind her. Seeing her chance, she lunged for his legs and the momentum from the push helped her small frame bring him down. Miraculously, the hatchet fell out of his hand, and she quickly reached for it. Before she could grab it though, he clocked her in the face, hard. White lights spread across her vision and she nearly blacked out, laying completely limp on the hard ground, breathing heavy and feeling completely and totally lethargic. There was movement, and then she saw the hatchet being picked up. The teenage boy made his way back over to her and the pale moonlight showed some of his face. He looked sad, tired. ❝It's nothing personal . . .❞ he murmured, while raising the hatchet, and Sophie wrenched her neck to look at him directly as he pinned her down. One of her hands was free, and she reached to her pocket where she had stashed her knife before, slowly, tiredly, scared. Terrified. Angry. Enraged. Wrathful. Even a cornered gazelle was dangerous. There was a sputtering, shining, squelching noise, and then a clang to the ground. It was silent for a long time. Neither body breathed. And then Sophie felt a heaviness on her, and blood trailed down her arm, leaked onto her neck, shirt, and face. The hatchet was on the ground right next to her. There were more spasming noises, struggling to talk, to cry, to yell, to do anything. But there was nothing, only a heavy body on top of her much smaller one. With a yank, the knife was removed from the flesh, causing even more blood to fountain out, and with a yelp, she pushed the boy off of her, sitting up and breathing hard, heavy. Her hands were stained. Her shirt was stained. Her face was stained. In a daze, she reached into her bag and pulled out a sea green hair tie, puling her dirty hair out of her face tightly and into a more manageable state. Maybe I should cut it off. she thought distractedly. Her eyes were dull, dark, and relatively devoid of life. She pulled herself to her feet and leaned up against the large stone. Her entire body hurt, and she needed to find a place to rest . . . She looked down at the body, a part of her feeling nauseous. ❝I wonder if you had planned to die tonight.❞ she murmured, squatting down next to him and closing his eyes. He was quiet handsome at this angle, dead and all. Dead and all. He was dead. She killed him. Sophie closed the dirtied knife and slipped it back into her pocket, discarding her rings into her dirtied white bag. She had liked this outfit, too. Her body ached, but she bent down again and reached for the small hatchet, gripping it tightly in her left hand and looking like a yandere. The boy didn't seem to have anything else on him, which was a shame. She began to make her way back to the ravine, slowly. All of her senses were currently dull, and so she was vulnerable to anything at the moment. At the sound of rushing water once more, she walked towards it, and then sat near it, setting the hatchet between her legs and cleaning off her damaged hands and face, still relatively dazed. When she was done, she kept on the bank of the ravine, still slowly moving around in a zombified state, the hatchet being clutched onto for dear life. Every now and then, she would pass a dead body, but she didn't pay attention to it. So many triggers that they're cancelling themselves out. Sophie found herself struggling up another tree, and when she reached a decent, sturdy branch, she rested her head back. Her entire expression was dead, limp. Her pale eyes stared into the minimal light provided by the moon. Tears trailed down her face.
⎛ DAY 3 ‖ 5/5 ⎠ ☁ ⎛ DATE ‖ MARCH 16TH ⎠ ☁ ⎛ LOCATION ‖ HELL ⎠⎛ MOOD ‖ . . . ⎠ ☁ ⎛ ❤!! ‖ 0% ⎠ ☁ ⎛ WEARING ⎠ ❝ ．．．！❞ ♡ ~ ✖ ~ ♡The hour had passed by in an odd manner, and the entire situation was making Sophie lightheaded. It was so surreal, that she was here, having to hide for her life, that she wondered if it was all just a dream. It definitely wasn't good for her perception of reality, which was more screwy than others by far. But if it was a dream, then there was no need to worry about dying, right? No, not even in dreams did Sophie want to die — and if this wasn't a dream . . . BANG. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. Sophie was grasping onto the branch in the thick of the leaves for dear life. Her heart nearly beat its way out of her rib cage and she had to choke back a sob. She peered through the leaves to see red light coloring the sky, and she quickly took the moment of clarity to gaze around her area. Her stomach flipped at the sight; they were all scattered everywhere. She looked into the next tree and a younger girl, looking absolutely terrified, made eye contact with her. She squeezed her eyes shut. Had the girl seen the color of her eyes? Shit. Now one of them knew she was here, and . . . Fear could do drastic things to people. The red light died away and the forest came to life again. Sophie needed to move away from this tree. With a deep breath, she reached for a foothold and began squirreling her way around. Ah! Fuck. Her hand was cut. From behind her, from about the same area where she once had been sitting, there was a scream of bloody murder, and then a loud thump as something hit the ground, hard. Had it been that girl? Completely disregarding that thought, What if I took a dead one's bag? It was sick, she knew, but she wanted to survive, so what else was she supposed to do? I don't want to die. Would she do anything to stay alive? Deep breaths. Sophie had worked her way through the trees, slowly but surely, but when there were more screams, it wasn't an efficient manner of travel anymore, she thought. Still, she was too terrified to even go down, for those long moments of vulnerability while climbing down. Just a little while longer . . . she thought to herself, wrapping up her bleeding hand and continuing to move far. She needed to find sanctuary, fast.
⎛ DAY 3 ‖ 5/5 ⎠ ☁ ⎛ DATE ‖ MARCH 16TH ⎠ ☁ ⎛ LOCATION ‖ FESTIVAL ⎠⎛ MOOD ‖ . . . ⎠ ☁ ⎛ ❤!! ‖ 0% ⎠ ☁ ⎛ WEARING ⎠ ❝ ．．．！❞ ♡ ~ ✖ ~ ♡ Spoiler: . . . ! Sophie had wandered around the festival for a while, meeting all sorts of people who gave her odd and foreboding looks. After the sun had set, she decided that it was probably a bad idea to continue wearing the sunglasses and took them off, slipping them into her bag once more. She had been disappointed, to say the least, when both Pierce and Oliver disappeared, but decided not to spend the time looking for either one of them. Still, if they had met up somewhere . . . The thought of stabbing Oliver sounded more appealing than it had before. She glanced into her bag and saw her pocket knife that Lucas always made her carry around. As she continued to explore, she noticed one more thing; besides the fact that everyone around her had green eyes, there were no teenagers. Everywhere she looked, there were only adults and younger children, but there didn't seem to be a teenager for a while around. For some reason, that bothered her. Before she could make up her mind about staying or retreating to the inn, an middle-aged man found her, and explained to her that all the teenagers should be down at the lake. The way he stared at her was almost scary; Sophie knew that he knew that she wasn't from Bentley — it was the eyes. Ahg, if there was ever a damned time to conveniently have green contacts on her . . . The man didn't seem to want to leave her until he practically dragged her to the lake, where he then left her. Teenagers, everywhere. I wonder if this is some sort of side activity for them. It reminded her of those summers spent at Camp Fortissimo, a little. Apparently, Sophie had arrived just in time to hear the end of a ghost story involving a dismembered head and a green ribbon. She vaguely remembered something like that from when her uncle would try to scare her before bed when she was younger. It hadn't been very amusing. The man on the stage who had been telling the story then dawned an odd red robe, and Sophie got a decent look at his face. . . . Patrick? she thought to herself. She thought . . . Ah, what's going on? He had begun to talk again, and with a growing suspicion and curiosity, Sophie listened intently, standing aside from the concentration of the group with her arms crossed. At the mention of a study, she felt annoyed since she wasn't at all religious — that was what the man had forced her down here for? Annoying. ❝Through your triumphs, there have been many failures . . . Our hearts are heavy with grief, and the fallen young men and women from the nights prior to this will always be remembered in our hearts. Do not forget them. Take care of their siblings and parents and support each other as best as you can. We are a community of love and loyalty - above all. For those of you who do not make it tonight, please remember what you are dying for.❞ . . . Dying for? What the fuck? Was it some sort of group sacrifice to a pagan god who could only be pleased by young blood? Well, shit. She didn't come here for that. Alright, I would like to leave, now. This situation was doubly terrible because Lucas wasn't with her, and she cursed herself for sending him away in the first place. If there was going to be killing, she couldn't think of many better for the job than him . . . This was sort of terrifying. Her expression fell dark. This was bad. The next events that transpired had her clenching her fist against her chest to keep her person steady, to not pass out, to not make a scene. So many triggers, all at once, and she had to perfectly maneuver around them to not attract attention. She closed her eyes, she thought of a song, she turned the mental volume all the way up until it was practically blasting. . . . There was no escape. This . . . is not good. Sophie tuned back into Patrick talking, only to hear him tell the group that they already knew how things worked. She wished he hadn't. What kind of gathering was this? She wasn't going to have to fight for her survival, was she? That was a bit of a problem because one, her physical form wasn't exactly peaking, and two, this real-life situation was very . . . real life. She had never really put self-defense skills to work, only against Lucas — and she knew he would never actually try to kill her. Her life was on the line . . . Again. Classic Bentley Hide-and-Seek. Yes, this was definitley bad. Patrick elaborated on the rules, and - . . . Kevin? She narrowed her pale eyes. It couldn't be the same Kevin she was thinking about; Camp Fortissimo camp leader Kevin. Ah, fuck her. A hunt, okay. One hour of time alotted to hide, okay. One hour dedicated to The hunt, okay. When Sophie heard the bit about 'goodie bags', she knew she was automatically at a disadvantage, and her chances of living to see the hour through were even more slim than they had been before. All she had was a pocket knife and a slightly faulty body clocked in with self-defense skills. It was a start . . . Not good enough. Quickly, she shoved away that defeatist attitude. Sophie would not be overpowered by anyone. I hope. She quickly shook her head, and listened on. No cellphones, that was fine; there wasn't any reception anyway. What was the punishment, she wondered? Maybe this is just a joke. ❝This year we've got somethin' special for you. It seems there are some outsiders with us this evening. Anyone who brings one of 'em back dead can leave the game a victor, unlike usual where if you kill one of your peers you simply get an advantage next round.❞ Not a joke, then. Shit. She was now a prime target, and even in the dark her eyes still made her stand out. She quickly adjusted her bag to be more secure. She knew it. She was going to have to run. Fast. Avoid danger. Avoid everyone. Or she would die. ❝It is time to begin.❞ Her heart thumped in her chest. ❝3 . . .❞ Her legs shook. ❝2 . . .❞ Her breathing started to become labored. ❝1 . . .❞ Her eyes clenched shut as she grasped the strap of her bag. ❝Ready or not . . .❞ She wasn't ready. . . . ! As soon as they were given the go, Sophie was working her legs immediately. Since she wasn't apart of Bentley's Young Life Cult of Demonica Workings, she highly doubted that she was getting a 'goodie bag', and so what she had, she was stuck with. Before returning to her own survival, she wondered if anyone else from their group had been stupid enough to come down to the lake. Oh god, Pierce . . . Oliver . . . Or Freddie. Or Quentin. Shit. She prayed to whatever fucking god that she was the only dumbass down here. Even in the dark, her eyesight was definitely better than normal, but she had almost tripped a few times. She needed to find a hiding place to stay away from all of the other hunters for the hour. She had good time to find one, but she didn't know what advantages the others had over her. Cameras? Enhanced fucking genetics? Goddammit, Nico. she thought to herself, Pull your shit together. Still, having gone to Camp Fortissimo for the last fourteen years couldn't have left her with nothing. She had all of that experience of the wild ( contained, at least ), and on top of that was Lucas . . . I can do this. Fuck, she had never been more terrified in her entire life. Not to mention, the extra added pain from her wounds. Fuck you, Ursula. I hope you burn in hell. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Sophie weaved through the trees in her white canvas shoes. At least she had decided to wear semi-decent clothing today, even though she hadn't planned for this situation . . . How much time did she have left? She didn't want to risk bringing out her phone to check. No phones. That was fine. She could manage. She could do this. Her nose and eyes burned, threatening to tear up. Eventually, she had thought she'd gotten at least a good four hundred meters away from the original starting spot when she had finally slowed down to a jog. There were noises all around her, and she didn't know if they were from other Hunters, or from the wild life. She vaguely, almost bitterly, recalled the scavenger hunt at Camp. The fire from two years ago. Everything started there. It was definitely fate. Sliding up against the trunk of a tree, she gazed up into the canopy, taking a precious moment of deep breathing to let her eyes adjust. It would be dangerous to go up there and then have no way down if someone found her, but it was also a somewhat safer way to avoid trouble. How many of the Hunters could climb trees? If they had trained for this . . . The odds are completely against me. If her self-preservation instincts kicked in, surely she would be able to get a job done, right? She needed to find a hiding place . . . At least five minutes had already passed. Even if she hoped that no one else from the group was in this situation, a part of her wished she wasn't alone. She was scared out of her mind. Would it be easier to be alone? Moving in a group could be troublesome, but more intimidating to other Hunters on the prowl. Sophie found herself sitting on a tree branch, passing the time. She could have swore, a few minutes into her brief rest, that she had heard someone die below her. Those spasming, squelching sounds. More triggers. She felt nauseous. This wasn't a good spot, but she waited a little longer to climb down and move elsewhere. Expecting to trip over something ( a dead body ), Sophie moved slowly, but never met anything. How am I supposed to find a good hiding place? What kind of barbaric game is this? Why am I even a part of it? I don't have anyone. I'm scared. At least fifteen minutes had passed by now. One hour and forty-five minutes until this hellish nightmare was over, she hoped. She had found a few more trees to climb, but didn't feel safe in any of them. Still, she had to admit it was better than nothing. When was someone going to find her?
