Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Death was nothing but another notch on your belt.

This was something that had been drilled into you ever since you were old enough to understand what it meant. 

“Death was a tool,” your dad and his colleagues would tell you, “A stepping stone to get you to the top,” 

Death was brought to you like a comrade in arms; a kind visitor to your table every evening for dinner. Death was your ally. Death was not to be feared. It was to be wielded against your enemies. Death was greater than life itself, as far as they were concerned.

You had been raised by a man who could unleash death like it were nothing more than a breath. A man who death cowered in the face of and bowed to his feet. 

They called him The Operator. 

This seemed like a fancy title for a man who had spent the first ten years of your life recording your every move through a 2002 camcorder, but okay. 

The Operator, as a construct, was the most important job in the Nation. The Operator controlled everything. They called the shots for building monuments and houses, and for destroying petty criminals and the lives of their enemies. 

Kinda like if the president and the mafia boss had a crossover. 

You didn’t care much about the job, which was a grave inconvenience, because it was no regular occupation.

The Operator was a title bestowed upon by every member in your ancestral chain. It trickled down your bloodline like a gene that only strengthened with time. Since the beginning of the early 1600s, the position had infected your lineage and lingered around like an old ghost, waiting to haunt you. 

Right now, it rested on your dad’s shoulders. 

And he was doing a damn good job of it. You had never known the nation so coordinated than it was under your dad’s reign. When your grandfather held the position, there were threats of war every other week. 

Your dad had maintained a sense of calm and collection, despite the obvious murders and occasional genocidal tendencies. 

But you didn’t really care about that. You didn’t care how good your dad was at being ‘The Operator’, nor did you care how skillful he was at commanding crowds. 

You cared that he was your dad. And he was the best dad ever, by the way. 

The Operator was nothing compared to that. 

You just wished he saw it the same way. 

Nothing made your dad happier than his job. He had a gentle heart, despite his morals. And even at that, you couldn’t even blame him. The Nation had worked under a strict ‘eat or be eaten’ rule: prioritize yourself and show no mercy. Being soft at all was rare. You were glad he maintained at least that. 

He thrived in the spotlight. He was a natural-born people-pleaser, eager to make the world around him flourish and shine like the visions of static in his mind. 

And he was bursting with pride at the idea that one day you would take over from him. 

“One day, this will be you, my child…” he would coo to you, showing off his polished trophies and statues in his name, “long will you reign…” 

Since you were eight years old, you were prepped and preened into the perfect little Operator-in-training. Your dad only had you, so the responsibility had fallen int your hands like a very annoying scab that wouldn’t disappear. 

One day, this Nation would rest on your shoulders. One day, you would call the shots. And you were going to do it alone. 

You didn’t question this until you did. 

For the first eighteen years of your life, you were content simply training and pretending it was for nothing. The whole Operator thing seemed to be decades away, so you pushed it to the back of your mind and told yourself that it was a problem for future Y/N.

By ten years old, you discovered your trademark. 

Scissor-throwing. Where you could throw one knife into the heart of a defense dummy, you could throw ten pairs of scissors without missing a beat. 

This was good, your dad said. You had something that differentiated you from a crowd.

By fifteen, you received adequate homeschooling, and by eighteen, you were trained to handle financial operations and management. 

You were growing into the perfect little weapon for future generations. Your dad was ever-so-proud of you. 

And then one day, at nineteen, you realized that actually, death was just not it. 

Don’t get me wrong, it didnt come out of nowhere. Your anti-operator beliefs began at around sixteen, when your dad began to rhyme off all the different potential torture methods you could use to take down opponents. 

And instead of nodding along nonchalantly, you felt on edge. 

Why would anyone want to implore torture? Was this really what you had to do to become the Operator? Was this the type of thing that would become natural to you one day?

You had barely even come to terms with the death thing, but now, they were introducing torture methods. You couldn’t imagine yourself torturing anyone! The idea of your DAD using anything on that list of methods made your throat go dry. 

But you had kept your mouth shut. 

This was normal for the Nation. It was not a kind place to live when it came to ethics. It was something you had to quietly obey. But still, you refused to partake in it. 

The feelings of malcontent continued into your seventeenth year when you went out of your way to seek more information on what exactly being ‘The Operator’ meant.

Ruling an entire nation was starting to taste sour in your mouth. You were suddenly gaining urges to overthrow the government, but unfortunately, you WERE the government, so what the hell were you supposed to do?

Long story short, it didn't take a genius to figure out that actually, you didn't want to become the Operator. 

I mean, torturing and murdering people to get what you want? Ordering those under you to do your dirty work? Being nothing but someone people silently feared and respected only out of submission?

Yeah, you would pass. 

Eighteen was a weird period of existentialism. You had spent your entire life training to be as great as your dad, and then just before the curtain was drawn, you pulled the rose-colored glasses off and realized that maybe, just maybe, your dad’s job wasn’t all that great. 

This spiralled into a pre-twenties crisis, and you felt as though everything that had ever happened to you had been terribly wrong. Why were you taught to use weapons at seven years old? Why were you so skilled with scissors? Why had your entire life been centered around death?

You tried to work up the courage to tell your dad that actually, you weren't all that interested in carrying out the whole bloodline thing, and you’d rather do something fun like exploring the world instead, but every time you so much as mentioned it to him, he would immediately interrupt you with his own excitement for the ordeal, and shower you in pride that you would be continuing the legacy on. 

You knew he meant well, but talk about giving you a guilty conscience. 

If there was anything worse than ruling a nation through autocracy and death, it was disappointing your dad. 

He would wrap his tendrils around you, pulling you into a hug and petting your head. That was a weird thing about your dad. He had tendrils, you did not. He also had no face, you did. 

It was a win-win situation for you.

So you sat, praying for the courage to just speak to him about it, but even then you knew it was useless. You couldn't just change an entire system by telling your dad you wanted to. It wasn't that easy. 

And then one day, the system changed for you. 

There you were, nineteen and clouded with guilt, pacing your bedroom floor on a rainy afternoon in December 2012. 

You were trying so desperately hard to think of something- anything- to get you out of it. Months had gone by like sand in an hourglass, and you were beginning to feel trapped. With every passing hour, you hated the idea of it more and more. Even the thought of having people kneel to you made your stomach twist. 

It just wasn't right, to command people and control things like death. Who were you to play God with the innocent? Who were you to take control of an entire nation? Who were you to even try?

You were helpless. 

But then, the strangest thing happened. 

“Can I come in?” your dad called, opening the door and sitting down at the edge of your bed. You noticed, on his featureless face, that he was conveying a devastating sort of look. 

“Y/N, I have to share some terrible news…”

Immediately you thought, ‘Oh my god, the Mayans were right, the world IS ending in ten days’ 

But before you could open your mouth, he silenced it for you,

“The world is not ending-” he held up a hand, and you nodded with a sigh of relief. At least that was off your shoulders.

“Rather the contrary,” he said to you, “the Nation’s Official Administration, have ruled a system change…”

“We have been training our entire lives to perfect and carry on this dynasty…” his tone carried disgust, “And all of a sudden… you now must compete to win the title of The Operator,”

You tried so hard to match his disappointed energy, you really did. But you felt like, for the first time ever, a god was listening to you somewhere. 

This was officially the best day of your life. You’d never complain again. Compete for the title? Instead of inheriting it?

All you had to do was lose. You would place bets on your opponents being the strongest, best-suited candidates from around the entire country. You could make it look easy. You could taste the freedom already. 

“I know this is a lot of pressure, Y/N, but I know you’ve got what it takes in you. It’s not the end of the world if you don’t win,  of course, but we both know you’re the only person right for the position…” he nodded to you, a hand on your shoulder.

And just like that, you became a liar.

“I’ll do my best, Dad-”

You were eighteen years old. It was 2012. And you were about to meet your freedom. 

///
By twenty, you thought you’d be ready to grab life by the reigns and ride into it like the legend you learned to be.

But here you were, staring into your vanity mirror, realizing that actually, you had never been ready for anything in your life. 

Freedom? What a joke 

Two years had passed since the news that you would be part of a competition to gain the title of Operator. Two years of constant training, lessons, preparations, and advertising around the Nation had led you right here, sulking at yourself in the mirror. 

Tonight was the opening ceremony for the candidates in the trials- a name given to the competition by the Administration- to meet and get to know each other. 

These candidates in question were currently making their way into your kitchen. You had no idea who they were. You only knew that one day, one of them would rule the world. 

A gentle sunrise poured into your bedroom, heating you up and giving you the last bit of comfort before everything changed. 

You didn't have long left with it all, you were trying to cherish it. 

Your reflection stared back at you in the shiny, white vanity, and you smiled at her. You looked beautiful. Your hair was done to perfection, and you were wearing your favorite dress, your makeup adding a flawless finishing touch. 

If you were getting ready to lose this competition, you were gonna at least look good while doing it. 

You heard the voices of your so-called rivals from below you. Any minute now, you'd be summoned downstairs to join them for the ceremonial dinner. 

You didn't have a lot of experience with the outside world, save for press conferences and work-related meetings your dad had dragged you along to observe ‘for future reference’. 

You were good in theory, but useless in practice. 

And the thought of them. How many of them were there? Were they older than you? Younger than you? Were they all men?

Oh my god, you wanted to be sick. 

You fumbled with your silver necklace, forcing it to sit straight and suddenly becoming hyperaware of your own appearance. You sprayed a few extra drops of your perfume onto your wrists for good measure. 

The door knocked three times and then clicked open.

There was your dad, looking as fancy as ever in his newly drycleaned suit,

“Are you ready darling?” he asked, “Our guests are waiting-”

You noted how the word 'guests' dripped with a sarcastic tone, and indulged in the fact you had at least one person backing you up here. 

Dragging your feet along the carpet, you followed as he led the way down the huge, mahogany staircase that you used to slide down the banisters of when you were young. Back then, it seemed like a landslide. Now, it seemed tiny. You slowly made your way down, gripping the handrail like it were your lifeline and begging the universe to not let you fall. 

You tried to remind yourself that you owned this house, they did not. They were YOUR guests. 

Convincing yourself you had the upper hand somehow diminished your anxiety a lot more than you thought it would, and you straightened your back as you landed on the wooden floors. 

The double doors to the dining room lay ajar, and you noticed how polished up it looked from where you were standing in the hallway. What was usually just a regular, ten-foot-long brown table with a wonky leg that had never been fixed, was now polished, covered in a spotless, white lace cloth, and decorated with large wax candles and tabletop flowers- all freshly picked from the garden outside and giving the place a soft scent of lavender. The general ambiance of the room, however,  remained as creepy as your dad liked it- with the walls only lightened up with dim candles, casting shadows along the floorboards.

You made your way to the entrance, and the smell of food was so rich that you gave your dad a look that was trying to communicate ‘ What the fuck is all of this about ?’, but he waved you off quickly to occupy himself with filling the table.

And that's when you noticed the eleven faces staring back at you. 

You had never felt more like a zoo animal being gawked at in your entire life. You noticed a few smiles greet you, and did your best to reciprocate them. 

This wasn't awkward at all. 

You eyed up the competition, noticing how undeniably strange they all looked. A guy with curly brown hair and scabs over his face twirling a fork in his hands, another guy with blonde hair didn't stop talking for more than a few seconds after acknowledging your presence, and another one, with a cigarette behind his ear, didn't break his stare on you at all, shamelessly sizing you up. 

You were trying to find your dad's gaze so he would introduce you, wondering why on earth he was acting as if mashed potatoes were the most important thing in the world right now.

But thankfully, he looked up.

“Ah, everyone- I would like for you all to meet my daughter and your fellow candidate, Y/N-” 

Chapter Text

You looked down on the sea of faces, trying your best not to make the situation more awkward than it already was. You settled for giving them a smile before taking the only free seat, which was next to a girl with long brown hair and… a clock in one of her eyes.

Well, you’d seen worse.

You noticed there was a difference in how those around you were looking at you. It seemed like some of them had managed to accept your additional presence in the room and move on, whereas others were still eyeing you up like you were a ticking time bomb. You thought this was weird. Okay, maybe they acknowledged that you were The Operator’s daughter, and maybe that put you at the top of their hit list, but they seriously needed to know that the candlesticks were more of a threat than you were.

Thankfully, before anyone could say anything at all, your dad announced dinner, and what was tense before had become lost in paying attention to the food around you. Dozens of plates and bowls scattered the table, filled with every kind of dish imaginable- seafood, meat, salads, pizza- you name it, your dad had it. The white tablecloth was now barely visible, and thirteen wax candlesticks added just the right amount of decoration to make the place seem formal.

You didn't know where exactly your dad had gotten all this FROM, considering you had never gotten this treatment in your entire life, but you let it slide.

You noticed conversation picking up around you again, hearing the brief introductions people were making to each other and remembering that no one actually knew anyone. You took this time to look around you and get a taste of who the hell you would be up against in here.

Your gaze followed a path of sunlight, shining in from one of the huge, diamond-like windows, and landed on a guy with light brown hair. You noticed immediately, that he also had no eyes.

That raised way too many questions too soon.

Like, could he even see what he was eating?

And then you noticed he wasn’t eating at all, rather toying with the end of his fork. He looked cool, like one of those effortlessly cool guys you see in Starbucks with their laptops, looking like they’ve really found their life’s purpose.

He wasn’t talking to anyone, instead looking deep in thought. You wondered how he was managing to maintain his composure when the guy next to him was practically shouting every word he said.

This guy in question was the one in a green sweater you noticed when you first walked into the room. He had blonde, scruffy hair that swept over his forehead, and large, elf-like ears poking out from it. For someone who was competing in the trials to become the future operator, he was sure chirpy.

Somehow, this made him seem more threatening than the brown-haired guy.

He was shouting over the table to someone else who was shielded from your vision. Despite being at least four people away from you, you heard every word he was saying,

“-And I fucking LOVE orange juice, been craving it for WEEKs-” he grinned, and you noticed two of his canine teeth were sharper than the rest. To assist his point, he was holding a glass of orange juice in his hand and was swinging it around like he had absolutely zero spatial awareness, some of it splashing over the ends of his cup and landing on the ground between him and the eyeless guy.

“You thinking the same thing as I am, cuz I’m thinking how the hell did that guy get in here?” a voice rang from next to you.

You turned around, and the girl from before, with the clock eye, was looking right at you with a small smile. You met her expression and leant back to the two of you could speak properly.

You laughed slightly, both of you keeping your gaze on the blonde guy who was now laughing so hard he was repeatedly slamming the table with the palm of his hand,

“He seems so…” you started, finding yourself unable to find the words you needed to describe him. You had expected everyone here to be so downright serious, given the challenge ahead. I mean, you were competing to be the FUTURE OPERATOR. This was a big deal. And everyone else was conducting themselves with such decorum, save for this guy, who was acting like he was on a school trip to Disneyland.

“So… weird-” the girl finished for you, leaning one of her arms on the back of her chair to turn to you,

“Clockwork-” she nodded, pointing to her eye, “that’s my name-”

You were so eternally grateful to make an acquaintance, considering most of your thoughts this morning consisted of an endless freefall of anxiety that started with everyone laughing at you and ended with them burning you at the stake.

“Y/N,” you said, smiling softly

The girl in front of you had turned toward you both, catching your eye just as you finished introducing yourself.

You were grateful you had finished because this was the most beautiful person you had ever seen in your life. Her long, strikingly black hair fell in waterfalls down her back, soft curls framing her doll-like face. Her skin was pale, and she donned black lipstick and similar dark eyes. She was wearing a long, black dress, and tiny black earrings in the shape of stars.

You were pretty sure, in another life, she ruled the world.

“Cool house-” she said, wrapping her black-painted fingertips around her wine glass, “I’m Jane… I’m so glad other girls are here, I was worried it was gonna be all men-” she laughed out, and both you and Clockwork joined her.

“Fucking ditto-” Clockwork nodded, shrugging off her brown jacket and throwing it over the back of her chair, before pouring some fries onto her plate, “you guys know why we’re eating dinner together instead of fighting each other to the death?” she laughed, “cus, other than this food, this is NOT what I signed up for-”

“I assume it’s to build relations. As far as I am aware, the new laws ask for harmony within the community, probably to avoid another civil war” Jane suggested, cutting the steak on her plate into pieces as she ate it.

That made sense. The first civil war happened around a century before you were born. It was started by The Operator at the time, who imposed serious punishments on his underlings for the slightest of offenses. Being late to meetings would warrant execution, for example. He was not a happy camper when it came to anything that wasn’t complete autocracy. And then one day, all of his underlings rebelled against him, and absolute devastation was caused to every city he ruled. It ended with his head, quite literally, placed on a spear and presented outside the new operator’s mansion.

Thankfully, it was gone now.

“Speaking of,” Jane continued, looking around the room, “where is The Operator?”

It was weird hearing your dad being called by his official title, and kinda embarrassing. Like oh okay look at your dad being The fucking official Operator. Look at you being his daughter oh aren’t you so cool.

Figuring he was off doing some important stuff for the nation, you continued eating and talking to Jane and Clockwork. Thankfully, they were chill and talked about things that didn’t concern the competition, much to your content. You weren’t ready to start pretending you were competitive for something you were actually excited to lose.

You noticed the guy on your left looking in and out of the conversations around him, yet contributing to none of them. He was wearing an orange hoodie and had blonde, straw-like hair that brushed against his forehead. He had a habit of picking his fingernails, you noticed.

But your observations were cut in two as you heard your name being called from four seats away.

Oh great.

“Yo, y/n!”

It was the loud, blonde guy. How he knew your name you had absolutely no idea. You met his gaze and were immediately taken back by his piercing red eyes that shone with excitement,

“So what’s it like being Slendy’s daughter??”

Slendy was a nickname people used for your dad, rather than ‘The Operator’, usually used mockingly by those who wanted his authority knocked down a few pegs. It was just as embarrassing for you to hear as it was for him, trust me.

His head was tilted, arms folded and he was leaning toward you like you were about to give him the most important information of his entire life. You heard the eyeless guy next to him mutter something, but it was too quiet for you to make out.

The entire table's eyes had fallen now on you, no doubt begging for some bit of information or weakness to use against you in the trials. Suddenly, the room felt a lot smaller.

The blonde guy’s gaze didn’t falter, but you sensed no maliciousness in it, rather genuine curiosity. Instead of fighting it with cautiousness, you opened your mouth to say that, actually, it was great and he was the best dad you could ask for!

But then he walked in.

The table, even the blonde guy, snapped back immediately to what they were doing like nothing had happened. Conversations resumed as natural, and the room seemed a lot bigger again.

Okay, good to know they were fucking terrified of your dad.

You wish they knew that this was the same man who cried when you fell down the stairs when you were ten and broke your arm, and who still bought you crates of your favorite drink because you said you liked it that one time.

Really, you had seen bugs scarier than your dad.

By now, everyone had finished eating, and the table was being cleared by two of the operation assistants. You smiled up at one of them, recognizing him as your training instructor back when you were twelve. He returned the gesture, shooting you a wink as he picked up your plates.

Your dad took a power stance at the head of the table, standing with both of his hands pressed upon the surface of it, looking around at all of you.

“Good afternoon, candidates,” he began, with a clear of his throat,  “Today marks the beginning of the trials in which you will compete to become the future Operator. Everything you work for, starting today, will be for your future. You will be sharpening your skills constantly- self-defense, attack, logistics, and financial management, to truly become the best of the best.”

“This is not an easy position to wield-” he continued, “Take that from me, but all of you, each and individually, have been chosen for a reason. These trials also will not be easy. After all, you are training to rule the world-”

He began to hand out a sheet of paper to everyone, walking around the table and silently causing them to sit up a little straighter in their seats.

“I am handing you your information sheets. Here you will find the names of your fellow candidates, and their dominant traits for being chosen. You will also find your schedule and details for the trials. I advise you to store these safely, and read over them later.”

Upon his request, everyone obeyed, slipping their papers into their bags.

You noticed the guy with the flannel, the one who had been staring at you so shamelessly when you walked in, scanning the sheet and then staring right at you again.

Okay, he definitely had a problem. He needed to get a life.

“Now, onto a more important topic-” your dad announced, immediately locking all of the previously-opened windows and casting the curtains shut, creating an almost sinister dimness around the place.

“It is my duty to inform you of the dangers associated with this competition…”

Everyone sat up, including you.

Ever since you had been young, you had been told about the nameless dangers out there, but each and every time you questioned what they actually were, you were told that you’d find out when you were older.

Nothing was more shielded from you than this.

For once, you were grateful to be sitting here right now.

He began to speak again, now in hushed tones.

“This would not be nearly as honorable a position without the threats-” he nodded, “I advise all of you to listen very clearly to this information.”

You noticed that even the blonde guy had zoned in,

“I am sure some of you are aware of the enemy underground…” he began, earning a few nods from around the room, “for those of you who are not aware, there is a world that parallels our own, located just below us and ruled by a man known only as Zalgo,”

“This man is evil incarnate.” Your dad said, his tone final and flat, “Upon any and every chance, he has attempted to overthrow our nation and claim it as his own. He is everything malicious and deadly, and contact with him has resulted in instant death for anyone who has dared challenge him. Our working strategy is avoidance, although it is not without fault. I cannot emphasize how ruthless he is, and I strongly advise each and every one of you to remain conscious, but clear of him. The files I just gave you include instructions on what to do if you are faced with any danger, as well as things to watch out for.”

Your eyes widened. So this is what they’d been hiding from you all these years. Holy shit. I mean, the prospect of a whole underground world was unfathomable to you. In all your years of guessing, you had never even considered this possibility. You were mindblown.

“Of course,” he added, “you will be provided with constant protection through the trials, but he is known for being cunning. If he finds out the trials are taking place, it is inevitable he will try to get involved. However, I must assure you this is extremely unlikely, and this precaution is simply just to cover all bases of safety. However, if you are having second thoughts, please feel free to raise your hand, and you can drop out of the competition now-”

You wished you had the balls to raise your hand and drop out of the competition now.

You looked around the room, noticing that no one was volunteering to drop out. Whether for the same reasons as you or because they were genuinely feeling assured by that, you didn't know.

However, you couldn't deny you were intrigued by the whole thing. You had spent your entire life wondering what the dangers your dad hid from you were, and now you were being thrown in the face of them.

Another world beneath you? A guy who ruled over it and preyed on your nation’s downfall? Who would have thought?

“Now, as a final message to you all, as this will be the last time I come into direct contact with you-” he said, standing up straight again, “I will not be your official orchestrator for the trials. Due to being the current Operator, as well as having my own daughter in the candidates-” he gestured toward you,

You wanted to DIE. Why was he giving you a shout-out right now?

“I am subject to bias, therefore I am off the administrator's team,” he said, “Furthermore, I wish all of you the very best in this competition, and I am sure my successor will be very well-deserving. If there are any inquiries you have, please do not hesitate to contact me. This mansion, as it is home to all operators, past present, and future, will be open to all of you for study. Our library is one of the most renowned in the nation, I am sure you know. On that note, I look forward to working with all of you, and I bid you dismissal-” he finished.

He turned, opening the curtains again and letting the end of summer sunlight back in, and it raised the question of whether the action of shutting them in the first place was to create a specific atmosphere or to ward off an unwanted presence.

But you didn't have time to think about that, because everyone was standing to leave.

“It was good meeting you guys,” Jane smiled, walking with you and Clockwork to the door. You felt kinda awkward having to say bye to them and then just stand there watching them walk off, but ya win some ya lose some.

The three of you bid your goodbyes, but before you could let them out, another guy shoved his way through, practically pushing them out of the way to get through first.

“Someone’s not happy..” Jane widened her eyes in annoyance, Clockwork narrowing her eyes after him,

“What a dick,” she glared, watching the silhouette of his white hoodie grow smaller and smaller as he stalked off.

“He is a dick,” Jane confirmed, “I saw him arguing with another guy the entire way here- seems like he’s one of those people who are just bitter at the entire world,” she said.

“Men-” you laughed, earning nods from the two of them and bidding your proper goodbyes.

You made your way back into the living room, awkwardly standing around and waiting for it to clear out. Most of the others walked past you without saying anything. The blonde guy waved over to you, calling out a “See ya later!” as he left.

Well, at least that was over. You thought it went well and actually ended up having a good enough time. Suddenly, the competition didn't weigh so heavy on your shoulders, and you figured that-

Your train of thought was suddenly cut off by the sound of footsteps, rushing out of the kitchen and into the living room. You looked up, immediately meeting two large, brown eyes, staring right into yours.

You had noticed him before- it was the guy with the curly, soft-looking brown hair. that the blonde-haired guy had been talking to He was tall and lanky, with various scabs and bruises visible on his knuckles.

He looked like he wanted to say something, and you stared at him, waiting to hear it. You didn’t once break eye contact. He cracked each and every one of his fingers in a repeated pattern, before finally speaking,

“Buhh-bye,” he jerked his hand up as though to wave, before practically rushing out of the house like nothing had happened at all.

“Bye!” you called after him

What was THAT all about?

Whatever it was, you were too tired to think about it. All you wanted to do right now was make some tea and read over your files.

///

Thankfully, by the time you got into the kitchen and helped your dad with the dishes, he had your tea waiting for you, along with a plate of your favorite biscuits,

“For my champion-” he rubbed your shoulders soothingly, immediately adding a “don't tell anyone I said that,” and looking around to make sure the place was definitely empty.

You laughed, thanking him and retiring straight up to your room.

Okay, first things first, let’s look at who you’ll be up against. You had to admit, you were curious.

The first person on the list was Brian Thomas. Skilled in aim, with an affinity for guns, specifically handguns. He could shoot within range of a mile, and was, due to this, an excellent hunter. He was also talented in hacking, which was helpful when it came to computational expertise.

Next, was Ben Drowned, with the ability to manipulate and produce electricity at his own will. Naturally a glitch, he managed to mutate into a human being with sheer force and willpower. This made him a natural opponent in combat, both short and long-range.

Helen Otis was skilled at mutilations. He was also an artist and used his eye for fine details on his victims. Due to his ability to make anything picturesque with his intelligence and attention to detail, he proved to be exceptional at private assassinations.

Jack Nichols was a skilled medic, known for having the ability to stitch up and cure almost any wound with the most basic ingredients. He also had remarkable talent with scalpels, as well as an above-average IQ.

Jane Arkensaw was a skilled defense fighter, with specialty skills in de-escalation, firearms and martial arts. With the ability to take down armed men using only her hands, as well as an above average IQ in logistics, she was a natural candidate.

Jeff Woods, a talented knife-wielder, known for his temper and ruthlessness. Able to hit long-distance targets with flawless precision, as well as harboring knowledge for anatomical structures of both humans and animals.

Liu Woods was exceptional in hand to hand combat, as well as logistics. He received a bachelor’s degree in mathematics, and is known for tackling situations with a level-head and cool-spirit. You wondered if he had anything to do with Jeff.

Natalie “Clockwork” Ouellette, a girl with the unique ability to wield spears and large knives to her ability. She is also incredibly agile and a talented spy, having connections with famous leaders and a clean reputation within the upper ranks.

Nina Hopkins had an incredible ability for pyrokinesis, which was the manipulation of fire. She was also known for being eccentric in her torture methods, with further expertise in calculations and observation.

Tim Wright had a spotless track record, scoring in the top 1% for both intelligence and financial operations. He was also an incredible spy, with additional talents in both hunting and hacking into home systems.

Toby Rogers suffered from CIPA, otherwise known as congenital insensitivity to pain. Due to this, he was particularly ruthless in combat, and his weapons of interest were twin hatchets. He was also a talented arsonist.

You had an exceptional talent for scissor work, both in short-range combat and distance throwing. You were also skilled in hand-to-hand combat and had above-average intelligence.

You scanned the list, making a mental note of who to avoid, because skilled in mutilations?? That was some crazy shit right there. You knew The Operator was a dark job, but damn.

Turning the page over, you saw a list of important dates:

September 7th, 2014: Official meeting with the Administrations Team

September 8th, 2014: Underground Protection seminar

September 10th, 2014: Standard Abilities Assessment

October 31st, 2014: Halloween Ball

November 13th, 2014: Skills Harnessing Retreat

December 23rd, 2014: Winter Banquet

February 1st, 2015: Official mid-term assessments

August 1st, 2015: In-person skills assessments

October 31st, 2015: Halloween ball

December 22nd, 2015: WInter banquet

April 26th, 2016: The Final Assessments

June 28th, 2016: The Winner’s Ceremony.

Okay, that was a long time. Two whole years of your life were about to be devoted to this. Despite being completely certain you were destined to lose, by circumstance or by desire, you couldn't help but feel apprehensive about the entire thing. Official assessments had you by the throat.

But that was two years from now. You’d manage.

You turned the page and surveyed exactly what you came here for. The steps to take in the face of danger.

You sipped your tea. This was gonna be good.

How to Identify an Underworld Threat

Frequent burning sensations
Hot spells followed by dizzy spells
Knocking from inside your walls
Spontaneous hallucinations
Severe migraines accompanied by paranoia

*If you are experiencing more than three of these symptoms, please contact the nearest Operations Administrator immediately

You turned the booklet over. Surely this wasn’t all there was on the situation. You wanted to know everything there was to know about Zalgo and you wanted to know it now. What the fuck was this?

You looked at the line of text that served in small print at the bottom of the page

Further information on this will be provided at the Underground Protection Seminar, September 8th.

Well, you guessed two weeks wasn’t that bad of a wait.

You closed the booklet and set it on your bedside table, tugging your laptop toward you and loading up Youtube. Whatever was waiting for you in the future could wait. It was getting late. The sun was setting outside your window. You were tired. As far as you were concerned, life was good right now. The trials could wait. 

Chapter Text

It took you until 11 am the next morning to realize that the information sheet had nothing about the trials on it.

You read it back to front again over breakfast, which you decided you deserved to have in bed this morning. It was Sunday, and you had nothing to do. So you sat with your favorite mug in one hand and your papers in the other, scanning over your schedule for a trace of reference to the trials you were told so much about.

I mean, wasn’t the entire point of the whole thing ‘The Trials’? Why, all of a sudden, were there exams instead?

The more you looked at the pages, the more they didn't make any sense. You were told, originally, you and twelve others would be competing against each other in a series of trials, and the strongest would win the title of The Operator. Yet the official information pack didn’t even mention the word once.

Confused was not the word.

You also wondered about the sudden influx of warnings and information on Zalgo. I mean, sure, he was a threat to the nation- you knew that, but why was he suddenly a main component of the whole thing? Why were you told more about him than anything else? You had gone your entire life without so much as intimidation from him, and you were always reassured that as long as your dad was in power, you would be alright.

You understood that participating in such a thing would attract his attention more than ever, but still. It felt weird that you were being taught how to look out for Zalgo more than how you would actually participate in the trials themselves.

This information package was just a list of loopholes, as far as you were concerned. It only gave you more questions than it did answers.

You wondered if any of the other candidates noticed the same thing. Part of you cursed yourself for thinking about them outside of the actual events themselves. They were your opponents- people who were supposed to be fighting against you. They were not your friends. You didn’t want to think about them when you didn’t need to.

You figured mulling it over in your head was no good. You needed to ask your dad because surely he would know something about it.

You buttoned up your jeans and tied your hair into a loose braid. You decided you would head into the forest for a walk afterward, considering it was a beautiful day and your timetable was completely clear.

You shut your bedroom door and made your way down the maroon, carpeted staircase, hopping over the crease at the very bottom, a habit you had picked up when you were a child and never bothered to drop. The early morning sunlight poured in from the window, casting a spectrum of color and light around both you and the hallway. The feeling of it warmed your skin, and you admired how beautiful it made the place look.

You took your time, humming softly as you pattered down the hallway. Summer was in the air, peace was in your mind.

You turned the corner, heading straight for your dad's office.

And jumped right out of your skin.

There was a man, standing there in the shadows, concealed in the darkness of alcove by the office.

Your heart was racing in your chest, wondering who the hell was just standing there at this time of the morning.

You moved closer to him, narrowing your eyes to make him out.

He must have noticed you too because he span around as if he didn’t see you coming until now.

And he narrowed his eyes right back.

You could have groaned.

Great. It was the creepy guy with the brown hair who kept staring at you the other day. His eyes were bright blue and practically shooting daggers at you. He was wearing a deep red flannel over a grey t-shirt. He had dark brown hair, that came into two sideburns on either side of his face, with stubble and a bored look, as though to suggest you were the one interrupting his peace and not the other way around. You also noticed he had a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and you wondered if it were the same one as he had yesterday.

You both stared at each other for about 10 seconds, before the awkwardness started to kick in and you just had to say something,

“Hi…?” you asked rather than greeted, trying to open a question of what the fuck he was doing in your house.

“What are you doing here?” he asked you, crossing his arms as if you were the one in HIS space at ten in the morning.

“Um… I live here?” you tried your best to sound patient, you really did, but what a dumbass question.

“Yeah no shit,” he said, now crossing his arms over each other and leaning against the wall to look down on you. He began picking at some of the broken skin on his knuckles, “I mean, what are you doing here? Outside the office?”

“I’m here to ask my dad something-” You found yourself saying, but you were kinda pissed about it. Why was he asking? And why was he looking you up and down like you had just called him a slur?

“You mean the operator-” he tried to correct.

Oh, no way were we doing this today. You were not about to be mansplained your own dad by some guy with staring problems.

“No, I mean my dad,” you said quickly, “Now can i get into the office, you’re kinda blocking the way-”

He made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, “Oh, you think you can just jump to the front of the queue because he’s your dad?” he rose to his original height, which honestly, wasn’t anything to write home about, before saying in a slightly mocking tone, “I’m sorry princess, you’re gonna have to just wait in line like the rest of us,”

Wait in line? Princess?

Who the hell did this guy think he was?

Who the hell did he think he was speaking to you like this? Like you were nothing but some spoiled brat who got everything she wanted cus of who her dad was?

What was he even talking about? A line? There had never once been a line to see your dad in your life.

But he was proved correct, because the door to the office opened up, and another figure emerged from it. You noticed, by the orange hoodie he was wearing, that it was the same guy who was sitting next to you the other day, picking at his nails. He seemed to notice the tension because he shot the both of you a small, almost sympathetic smile as he walked out. You tried to offer one back, but your eyes definitely didn’t match the tone.

Once his footsteps became nontraceable, you turned back to the asshole in front of you.

And then you heard your dad’s voice,

“Who’s next?” he called from his front desk.

You practically shoved your way past the other guy, gripping the door handle and shooting him a shit-eating grin,

“Ladies first-” you said and slammed the door in his face.

That felt good.

////

Your dad’s office was as it always was: stacked with shelves of endless hardback books, semi-circling his mahogany desk. Over the years it had become worn with dents and chips cut out of it, but no matter how many times you tried to get him to buy a new one, he refused.

‘Furniture well-worn is furniture well-loved my child!’ he would tell you.

He was sitting with his arms crossed, back straight, one of his tendrils toying with a trinket on the desk, which you presumed was another one of his Greek mythology models. Your dad had a thing with Greek mythology, and you fondly remember the stories of all the gods and goddesses which he would tell you to urge you to sleep as a kid.

“Ah, y/n!” he chirped, watching you intently as you curled up on the plush armchair facing him, “That was Brian who just left, clarifying the details for transport on Wednesday. You are aware we’ll be leaving at midday by coach, yes?”

You were not aware.

“Yep” you nodded, “I came here to ask you something about the trials-“

You noticed him stop playing abruptly with the figure and focus all of his attention on you, “Of course, my child, what can I help you with?”

You explained to him the questions you had regarding the lack of information on the trials, and the overabundance of information on Zalgo (to which he hushed you to keep your voice down in case of anyone listening from within the walls, which you found weird considering you never had to worry about that before), and he straightened up. You noticed he looked more on edge than usual like he was debating whether or not he could give you a straight answer.

“There are parts of your queries I can and cannot answer my child,” he nodded, “For one, I can clarify that the seemingly overabundant amount of information on-“ he dropped his voice to a whisper, “Zalgo,” and then returned to normal, “is due to a consistent uprising in Underground sightings, as well as a few minor threats to the Administration’s computer systems-“

“Sightings?” Your interest peaked once again, “You mean he was seen up here?”

The thought of Zalgo making his way above ground for the first time in forever was enough to frighten you just a little bit. With all the talk nowadays, you were beliving he was as terrifying as he made himself out to be.

“No, not him y/n,” he reassured, “but sightings of his underlings- those who work beneath him, do his bidding- that sort of wretched thing-“

Part of you wanted to point out that your dad also had underlings, but you didn’t feel like being too political this morning.

“So he is watching us?” you asked

“It is hard to say…” he trailed off slightly, “However, with the word in these trials spreading around, it would not be too far-fetched to assume he was... he would likely wish to know the identities and weaknesses of the future operator before they reach their prime, so we must cover all bases when it comes to protecting you lot,”

This satisfied your curiosity for the time being but piqued your cautiousness. Not only were you being made to fight for something you were actively against, but you were likely being thrown into harm’s way in the process of it.

“And the trials?” you asked

“I am afraid I do not know much about the trials, other than they are strictly anonymous to all but those who made them,” he said, “as far as I am concerned, the dates on which they will be taken place will be revealed to you in more detail on Wednesday-” he nodded, “but that’s all I know-”

“the information package had nothing on the trials-“ you told him, and he offered an understanding nod,

“I noticed the same, however, we must not doubt the administration ministry- they are the brains behind the operator, so I am more than confident you will be informed more on Wednesday-“

This somewhat answered your question. You probably were looking into it too much. Sure it was weird, but if it were for good reason, you wouldn’t complain.

You stayed longer than you had to, partially because you had a bad habit of talking more than necessary and partially because the guy from earlier was still waiting at the door and you wanted to keep him waiting for being rude. After about fifteen extra minutes, you bit the bullet and made your way out, bidding your dad goodbye as you did.

When you swung the office door open, the guy behind it huffed out as if he had been waiting all that time just to do it. You looked up to him, returning the bitter look he had shot you with, and watched as he practically marched into the office.

“Ah, good morning Tim!” Your dad called.

You could have laughed. Tim? The fuck sort of name was Tim? No way you were letting Tim, whoever he was, annoy you this morning.

You wondered if the other candidates were as harsh as he was. You understood that you weren’t supposed to make friends with the people you were supposed to be taking down, but at least be CIVIL.

You swung open the kitchen door. Your kitchen was one of the biggest rooms in the mansion, separated into an area for cooking and a small table and chairs, which were never used considering you had the dining room. Drawers, cupboards, ovens, and refrigerators stretched along the walls, as pots and pans draped like bats from wooden beams stretched across the back. Your dad wanted to make it homely, despite the size, so the walls were decorated in plaques and paintings, and the fridges in magnets and pictures you had drawn when you were little.

You opened the fridge door and tugged out a bottle of water, before stepping out the back door and making your way down the stone pathway.

Your back garden was a paradise filled with benches and archways and endless hedges of flowers. If your dad was anything, he was nature’s biggest fan. In another life without a world to own, he would have made the best botanist in history.

You inherited that trait from him- loving nature. Times in the garden or in the forest which surrounded it were times of deep thought, solitude, and basking in the endless power you absorbed from it. When the world stilled and the only sounds were the trickling of water into the pond or the chirping of songbirds, that was when you piqued. That was what freedom meant.

And right now, when you were thrown into a world of unwanted competition, trials that may or may not even exist, and the presence of twelve strangers, you needed freedom.

The forest was as it always is- peaceful, singing, bursting with life. It welcomed you with its swaying branches and whistling winds.

The leaves crunched beneath your feet as you plugged in your earphones, flicking through your iPod for a good album to listen to whilst walking through the place because it was 2016 and folklore wasn’t out yet.

You chose the next best option, which was Lungs by Florence and the Machine.

You knew the forest like the back of your hand. All the twist-around branches that led to meandering rivers, dirt paths surrounded by wildflowers, and stepping stones leading to the outskirts. All of it was familiar to you.

But today, something was off.

You didn’t know what exactly, but something made you keep pausing your music to hear what was going on around you. A wave of paranoia was slowly seeping into your skin, and it was turning your head at every movement you noticed.

You judged that, based on the previous few days, it was due to the whole Zalgo thing. You had always felt safe in the forest, but now with the increasing sightings and attacks, that safety was no longer guaranteed.

However, out of pure spite, you continued.

You had already let the entire idea of the trials alter your daily life, you weren’t going to let Zalgo do it too, no matter how threatening he was or how even your dad insisted on whispering his name.

The spitefulness lasted all of five minutes before you had convinced yourself something was definitely off. But by that time, you had ventured too far in to get back home any time soon. You were trying to talk yourself out of it.

Your fear was unnecessary. It was all in your head.

Despite your calming affirmations, you began to make your way back. It wasn’t because you were scared, obviously, no totally not. It was just because you were hungry, and it was lunchtime.

Yeah, totally.

The looming feeling around you began to cave in more as you walked. Branches began to look like bars and every song of the wind was beginning to sound like screams.

There was something about this whole thing you didn’t like.

And then you saw a shadow.

You were skeptical at first, considering in all eight years you had been exploring this forest, you hadn’t seen anything more than a squirrel. But you were almost certain that in the distance, someone was standing.

You whipped your head back around and picked up your pace. You jogged toward the mansion and prayed whatever it was wouldn't show itself again.

Suddenly you became a lot more aware of your surroundings. Your music had paused. Every snapping twig around you echoed.

It’s okay y/n, it’s just-

You heard a squawk from above you.

And there, on a widened tree branch, perched six crows, all gazing down at you.

Then you broke into a run.

The mansion was in the near distance, and you were propelling yourself at it at full force, already prepared to seize open the door and bolt it shut. There was no way something wasn’t going on here. You were fucking terrified.

You heard a final, deafening shriek from one of the crows, and couldn't help but turn, watching as it fell from the branch and hit the floor.

It had been shot down.

Your heart was in your ears and you could feel your legs shaking with the adrenaline.

You were sprinting and had just slammed your feet into the dirt path leading up to the garden. Soon enough, you were surrounded by roses and tulips again, and the back door was seconds from your grasp.

You slammed it shut and slid down the panes of glass, panting and trying to make sense of what the fuck had just happened out there.

You were definite you weren’t alone. Never in your life had you felt so frightened out there, never in your life had you seen shadows out there, and you didn’t even think crows LIVED out there.

You tugged yourself to your feet, deciding, after a brief period of wondering if you should tell your dad or not, to forget about it. The last thing you needed was to have your forest rights taken from you against your own will. You would just stay in the garden where you could be seen until you were free from the competition, and subsequently the threats on your life.

So, with shaking hands and a thumping heartbeat, you took yourself back to your room for the night and tried to forget about it. 

Chapter Text

You did not forget about it.

In fact, it only made you more cautious. You were looking over your shoulder now, even in the mansion, and you refused to look outside at night, just in case there was something staring back at you. But despite your rising anxiety about the unknown, you still refused to tell your dad about it.

It was Wednesday morning, the day of your first official meeting with the Administration team.

The air was crisp and fresh, providing the song to which your curtains danced. Having a summer breeze was nice, especially considering how hot it was these days. Plus, sundress season was pretty much the best time of year.

The Administration Ministry was located on the far outskirts of town, which was about a 45-minute drive away from the mansion. This was to seclude them from the nation, ensure total anonymity and allow them to cover their affairs privately. You guessed you should feel special for receiving a personal invitation to visit such sacred grounds, but then again, what sort of person would you be if you started ass-kissing the government all of a sudden?

The soft sound of Honeymoon by Lana del Rey was the soundtrack to your morning, as your record player spun her tracks into the summer air and let you hum along. You dawdled around your room, fixing bedsheets and undoing and redoing the clasp on your bracelet- anything to pass the time sooner, until finally, you began to hear low voices sounding from outside, indicating that a few of the other candidates had arrived.

You opened your window-like doors and stepped onto your balcony,  which was secluded from their view, looking down at them all.

Okay, yeah you were nosey, but no one could see you up here so you were fine. You made out their figures- the energetic blonde guy practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, talking animatedly up to the tall eyeless guy, who didn't look overly happy about being stuck in a conversation.

Jane, Clockwork and the other girl, who you assumed was Nina, were in small conversation, sunglasses perched on their heads. You looked over the grounds with a tilt of your head. You had never seen so many people, so many sounds, so many colours all together at once. Years of being in this mansion with nothing but old guys and your dad had taken a toll on you, it seemed.

You rested your chin on your palm, finding yourself mimicking the smiles of the blonde guy as he skipped around the place, but quickly reprimanded yourself. Who were you admiring their presence in your front garden? You weren’t supposed to admire, or even acknowledge anything about them bar their strengths and weaknesses. One of these people was about to replace your dad and rule over you for the rest of your life. As far as you were concerned, they were all bootlickers.

Except for Jane and Clockwork. You were sure they had their reasons.

You laced up your shoes and rushed down the stairs, almost tripping on the bit of carpet poking out at the bottom due to an early jump. The nerves were suddenly hitting you.

I mean, an official meeting with the most renowned people in the nation? The very people who would be judging your character, skills and talents?

Like, sure you didn’t want to win the competition, but you also didn’t want to look like a total tool in front of people higher up than your dad. Who knows what they could do to you if they decided you weren’t good enough? They had more power in their back pocket than you could even think of.

You waved bye to your dad, secretly wishing he would spin around and just say something like ‘You know what Y/N, forget about the entire thing, let's go and watch TV’, but it never came, so you accepted defeat and opened the door, shielding your eyes from the strike of the sunlight. A few heads turned in your direction,

“There she is!” the blonde guy grinned, turning to meet your gaze with those same glittering red eyes, “We were just talking about you!”

“Ben, oh my god,” the eyeless guy sighed, turning to you. You noticed his voice was naturally quiet, almost monotone, and he carried an air of melancholy with him.

He turned to you too, shaking his head, “I swear we were not just talk-”

“Yeah we were, Jack says he loves your house-” Ben grinned, hands on hips.

The eyeless guy, who you were presuming was Jack, threw his palm to his forehead in exasperation, looking down at Ben like he wanted to strangle him. Ben looked up at him and widened his smile.

“Are you kidding me? I’m so sorry about him y/n. Seriously, do you EVER stop meddling?”

They continued their one-sided bickering as the coach pulled up just in front of you all.

Ben and Jack. You stored their names in your mind for the future.

It was a shiny, navy-coloured bus with the Operator Symbol- a circle with an ‘x’ through it, painted fresh on the side. Judging by its condition, it was brand new. The driver looked to be working under the Administration herself, considering she was wearing the same shade of navy uniform, with a badge portraying the symbol pinned to her chest. The windows were shiny, yet coated with a shade which ensured anonymity for whoever was riding it.

The doors opened automatically, and the twelve of you briefly shared glances, almost trying to coax someone else to enter first.

Then, with a huff as though to say ‘You’re all childish’, Tim climbed on.

In your brief few nights of panic over shadows and crows, you forgot that he existed. You could have groaned at the sound of his voice.

Following him, everyone made a point to bustle on. By the time you finally squeezed through, you heard a whistle form near the middle,

“Yo, Y/N! We got you a seat!”

It was Clockwork.

Okay, you knew you were deadset on the whole ‘don't get attached to people thing’, but you had to admit, having someone save you a seat felt nice.

You joined her, smiling at Jane and the other girl who was sitting on your other side,

“Hi, Y/N!” The new girl smiled, swinging her head forward to see you better. You noticed that she, just like the guy in the white hoodie, had a smile cut into her face. Her skin was paper white, and despite the amount of purple makeup on her eyes, they remained sharp and piercing. Her black hair was tied back in a ruby-red ribbon, and her jacket was the same shade as her eyes. She wore long, striped socks and beat-up converse, “We didn’t get talking much last week, but it’s really good to meet you!”

You introduced yourself, returning her energy back to her, glad that she was as friendly as the other two. Sure, you weren’t looking for friends, but you would rather that than bitterness and awkward silence.

The bus ride was spent talking to the three of them, with only the loud laughs of Ben and one of the other guys at the back filling the air.

Despite convincing yourself not to ask them about the trials, you found that your resolve was actually terrible because you found yourself asking them about them in the first ten minutes. Luckily, they didn't seem to mind.

“I was thinking the same thing!” Nina nodded, “I mean, didn’t the Operator tell us that the trials would definitely be covered in the information pack?” she asked

“I went to see him the other day about it and he said that hopefully, they’d tell us something today-”  you offered them, “but still- i think it's super…odd that they centred this entire thing around these trials and then gave us virtually no information on them-”

“And what's with all the tests?” Clockwork added, all of you nodding in agreement

“It doesn’t add up at all” Jane said

“Maybe the tests ARE the trials-” Nina suggested, “But still, it makes no sense on why they would be broadcast to us as trials rather than examinations-”

“They probably just forgot to add in another page-” clockwork snorted, “honestly, the Administry’s not nearly half as well-run as you’d think. If it weren’t for this season’s Operator, the entire place would be fucked- kudos to your dad, y/n-” she laughed, and the three of you joined her.

She wasn’t wrong, either. Until your dad came to power, the place was filled with nothing but unfair conditions for those who weren’t in the elite. You didn't agree with all the killings in the slightest, but at least he was paying his workers a fair wage for it.

You spent the remaining ten minutes on the bus listening to Ben’s obnoxious voice to which he was trying, and failing to start a singalong. A few times, one of the other guys would snap or shout some sort of threat at him, but he never listened.

The longer the ten minutes dwindled, the more on edge you felt. You found yourself looking out the window, scanning the horizon for another shadow or something else to add to your fears. Part of you felt stupid for fearing shadows yet being completely okay sitting on a bus with trained murderers, but at least you knew you were in the same boat with them.

However, seeing all of them in such a human setting made them feel…almost human. Which, of course, they were, but when you thought about it, they were all trained killers who were about to fight for your dad’s job. There was nothing human about them.

You suddenly remembered the phrase ‘skilled in mutilations’, and shuddered.

But they probably thought the same of you. You knew you were judging twelve books by their covers, and you would hate if they thought of you the same way you were thinking of them, but at the end of the day, they all chose to participate. You were forced in because of your bloodline. There was a big difference.

You had no idea what these people were capable of. You, personally, couldn’t imagine murdering a human being but judging by the laws and morals of the land you lived on, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume that they thought completely differently about the subject.

Thankfully, the bus came to a halt, and one by one, you began to file out. Somehow the air was even warmer out here, with not so much as a light breeze to keep you cooled down. You noticed a few of them shrug off their jackets and fan their faces. One guy pulled off a scarf, which you thought was totally dumb considering it was summer and there was no need for scarves.

“Jeez, this is big…” Clockwork whistled out, the four of you looking up at the Administrations building.

Big was officially the biggest understatement of the year. It was gargantuan. You had seen it before in photographs on your dad’s desk, but it looked even more dismal in person. Tiny, rectangular windows filled the space like little offices shadowing down on you, and there was not so much as a splash of colour in the entire vicinity. Two huge black gates, carved into steel spikes with two serpent heads on either side of them, overcast a shadow on the twelve of you.

“Did they only have grey paint in stock that day or?” Ben offered with a small laugh.

And then, in the distance, you saw a cloaked figure.

It seemed to be pressing some buttons on the wall, because in a few moments, the huge gates were screeching as they were dragged along the floor, opening like they hadn’t done so in years. You noticed the rust around the edges and winced. If you were none the wiser, you’d have thought this building had been abandoned for years.

The figure was getting closer. You felt Clockwork tense up next to you, as though trying to size it up before she even knew what it was. No one made a sound. You identified it as a man the closer it got, and suddenly it was within arm's length.

And then it spoke, in a dull, heavy old voice that sounded in need of a coughing fit,

“You must be our candidates… please make your way forward through the grounds,” It commanded, beginning to lead the twelve of you forward whilst the gates screeched and groaned shut behind you all.

You noticed the sky was greyer than usual over here. Perhaps it was the change in scenery, but you had never noticed such dismal weather at the beginning of September before. Squawks sounded from the trees above. You found your gaze falling upward, looking for the source, but your search was redundant.

The only sounds that could be heard were the grass squelching beneath your feet and the heavy breathing of the old man in front.

The entrance was massive, even more so than it had looked from a distance. The double doors were wielded with iron bolts, and floor-length windows were perched on either side of them. However, the glass was stained so it was impossible to look through, just like the windows on the bus.

“I advise you to remain aware of our staff. A few of them have recently returned from a mission, and will be passing through.” He announced, pressing a button which allowed him to tug open one of the doors and lead you all into a dark corridor, lit up only by small candlelights on the sides of the walls.

You heard Ben mutter something about Minecraft torches as you walked, but he was drowned out by the sound of large footsteps on the other side of the hallway.

When the old man let you through another double door, you noticed the footsteps came from a group of six or seven people in huge hazmat suits, marching from one side of the building to another.

The room was the biggest you’d ever seen in your entire life. A checkered black and white floor led to deep grey walls with purple swirls painted on them, which gave the foundations to the ceiling- which was built almost to replicate those in ancient museums. Statues of gargoyles, centaurs, creatures you had never even seen before, in front of a backdrop of beautiful paintings, covering every square inch. You noticed a few gasps come from other candidates as they admired the artwork.

“Yes, beautiful, isn’t it?” the old man commented, continuing down the black carpet which led to a high table, raised and secluded in a semi-circle at the centre of the room, “Now please, follow me and take a seat,”

A boy around your age was seen quickly attending to the area of interest, before rushing away and revealing twelve seats positioned directly in front of the high table, spread into two rows of six.

The second you sat down, another door opened, and five people slowly entered the room, clipboards in hand.

There’s no way.

This was not what you were expecting from the official administration team.

The girl on the far left was tiny. She had long blonde hair that fell down her back in waves, with sparkling blue eyes that you noticed even from your seat. She was dressed in all pink, and looked as though she were sizing you all up from her chair.

The next guy was terrifyingly tall. He was, quite literally, a clown. Dressed in all black and white, pointy nose, messy hair, clown makeup. He was a fucking CLOWN, and judging by the size of him, he was well over 7 foot.

The next guy was almost completely opposite in terms of colour. He was practically neon blue, with his hair tied back in a thick ponytail. You wondered how he even came to find an outfit in that colour, but you were suddenly distracted by how sharp his teeth were when he spoke.

There was a seat for the old man, and then next to him, sat another clown-looking guy. This one had shoulder-length red hair and big green eyes and was dressed as though he had just stepped out of the 1800s.

Finally, on the far right, sat a guy with a theatrical-style mask on, and a black hoodie which was pulled up to shield his hair. He looked inhuman, with one long set of fingers clutching a glass of wine and the other sharply tapping on the table in front of him.

You swapped gazes with Jane, and you knew by the look on her face she was just as confused as you were.

When you thought ‘Administration’, you did not think this. When you thought about Administration, you thought about undertones of grey and concrete walls, much like the appearance of the building on the outside. You did not think of colours and youth.

Alongside the sorry excuse for an explanation about your trials, this had thrown you off even more. What was with this place and its loopholes, and making you double-cross all of your thoughts?

The old man again cleared his throat. You noticed a few of the candidates sit up straight. You noticed Jack pull out a notepad and a pen to take notes.  You wondered for a moment if you should have done the same, but upon realizing he was the only one, you relaxed a little. The boy who had set down your chairs, who had large blue eyes and brown hair, wearing what looked to be server attire, provided a jug of water and six glasses to each of the Administrators.

The old man took center stage and cleared his throat again. This should be good. 

Chapter Text

“I appreciate all of you showing today,” he began, “I wanted to take this time to cover the basics for your training, as well as answer any of your questions,” he said

A hand shot up, beating your own.

“In the information booklet,”

It was Tim, his pretentious voice ringing inside of your head,

“There doesn’t seem to be any information on the actual trials…can you explain why this is?”

You noticed a smirk creep up on the face of the blonde girl on the far left’s face, and she pretended to scribble something down on paper to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze.

“Well,” The old man cleared his throat again. You noticed he had a habit of this. “I- We wished to introduce you to the trials in person,” he nodded, “Simply encapsulating them in the booklet would remove practical demonstrations, as well as the element of surprise which is key to success in the trials. There is not much to know about them, mind you, however, we will be covering the subject matter today, so there is no need to worry.”

This seemed to satisfy him, and you had to admit it satisfied you, too. Come to think of it, the amount of information they could probably let you know was limited when it came to the trials. What WOULD be the point of adding it to the booklet?

“Our meeting will be brief,” he said, “I wish to first introduce you to the team of executive administrators this ruling semester. Of course, by the time one of you is elected Operator, the board will likely change depending on your decisions,” he nodded

You shot your hand in the air,

“Yes, miss l/n?”

“So did m- The Operator- choose this team of administration?”

“Unfortunately he did not,” the man said, “The laws of administration have changed alongside those of the Operator. This team was chosen based on overall averages in intelligence and combat across the nation- much like how all were chosen for the competition,” he nodded, “However, in line with the newfound laws which state you must compete to become The Operator, there are also laws which insist that it is the decision of the Operator to employ their own Administration Team from here on out, so long as they are chosen directly from the most excelling candidates in the nation, in other words, you,”

So one day this team will consist of those among you. You didn't like to imagine the idea of white hoodie guy in charge of serious operations business, but you guessed it wouldn't concern you. By that time, you would be busy doing something actually important, like raising dogs or living on a farm.

“Without further adieu, let me introduce you to my fabulous team. They will be training you in their individual area of expertise, as our future Operator must be trained by the best in order to become the best of the best” he said, “as well as this, each of you will be assigned one of us to be your personal mentor,”

Your eyes widened. Oh hell no.

“It will therefore be our job to monitor your progress, track your strengths and harness your weaknesses so that they themselves become strengths,” he nodded, “you will meet with your mentors once or twice per week, for both training and meetings, and I expect you will establish quite the camaraderie with them.”

You sensed that was him trying to make the situation lighthearted, but as you looked around, you noticed no one looked happy about the ordeal.

The majority of them were antisocial as it was, and had yet to even introduce themselves to you. You took a wild guess to think they weren’t totally thrilled about having a mentor- an authority figure- to look over them and correct their wrongdoings.

“I don’t need a mentor,” a voice spoke up from the last seat in the back row.

Silence filled the room.

You heard Clockwork’s ticking eye whizz with the speed she spun her head around to the source of the voice.

It was the guy in the white hoodie. He was sitting with one arm slung over the back of the chair, which he was swinging back on. His eyes, despite being larger than life and typically so sharp they could only convey malice, looked almost bored, “I’m here to win a competition, not to be trained into your bullshit law team’s pet-”

You turned your stare back to the old man, who did not even seem slightly fazed by his remark.

“Jeffrey Woods, isn’t it?”

The guy didn’t answer, but you knew he was right.

“Might I share this piece of advice with you? Your mentor is there to assist you to win this competition, not to train you into submitting to the so-called system you have convinced yourself is an enemy. Trust me when I say we are on your side,” he spoke with patience, despite the look on Jeff’s face growing slowly more bitter than bored.

“Might I share this piece of information with YOU?” Jeff sat up straighter, glaring daggers at the old man, “I don't need a mentor,” he spoke slowly, sounding out each word like he was speaking to a child.

You had no idea why he was being so difficult. I mean, you weren’t all that thrilled about it, but if you entered the competition, surely you wouldn’t care about doing whatever it took to win? Why was he kicking up such a fuss over it? The old man looked down on him,

“Well, unfortunately, until you win this competition- which based on your track record, I highly doubt you will, you have no authority here, so I advise you to accept your role and keep quiet.”

“Fuck your authority,”

Everyone went quiet. Even the server boy looked shocked. He continued,

“Let’s get this shit straight. You don’t have any authority over me-” Jeff snapped, leaning up in his chair and crossing his arms, “Give me a mentor all you want, but I’m not going to any dumbass meetings,”

“Well we can see about that,” the old man sighed, “although I do wish you'd understand the consequences involved with disrespect,” he said matter-of-factly, turning to address the rest of you before Jeff could make any more insulting comments. You noticed Jeff looking slightly less bitter, and decided that he was probably just looking for an opportunity to establish a no-shit-taken reputation among the twelve of you.

“First I’d like you to meet our manager of hacking and information technology,” the old man stood and gestured to the guy at the left, with the theatrical mask on and the hood pulled up. He seemed to be in the middle of pouring his second or third glass of red wine.

He lazily threw his hand up in what you assumed to be a wave.

“Kagekao,” he said in a distinguishable Japanese accent. The old man looked at him for a few seconds longer, almost silently urging him to say something else, but he only pretended not to see and focused on pouring more wine for himself.

With a defeated sigh, he gestured to the tall guy with long red hair and bright green eyes,

“Next is our resident medic, who will provide lessons on logistics, as well as basic first aid training,”

The guy leant forward, and you accidentally made direct eye contact with him. You felt like you had to look away, but whatever was going on in his eyes was almost hypnotising to you that you felt you physically couldn't;

“You can just call me Jason, I expect you are all already highly intelligent, however, first aid is something that will be essential to master both in life and in the trials,” he nodded, “I look forward to working with you,”

His voice was deeper and more serious than you thought it would be. You tugged your gaze away from his eyes and focused on the rest of them, purposely avoiding looking anywhere near his area again.

Next was the tall, lanky guy dressed in all neon blue, with a long ponytail. He leant forward to speak before the old man could introduce him, and his voice was just as shrill as you expected it to be,

“Name’s Candypop!” he grinned, teeth sharper than blades and eyes harbouring a sense that he was focusing on something in the distance rather than at you all. If he hadn't been one of the administration team, you'd have made a point to never come into contact with him again,

“I’ll be your combat teacher!”

Yeah, that checked out. He seemed like the type of guy who was itching for a fight. You could only pray he wasn’t your mentor.

Next was the tallest clown-looking guy. He was absolutely huge and totally monochrome. You wondered if the whole get-up was like, a thing he was born with or something he just did for shits and giggles.

“I’ll be defence teacher-” he crooned. His voice was the most interesting thing you had heard all day- both deep and alluring.

The old man had snatched back his voice,

“And finally, we have Andromeda,”

She shot you all a wave with a small smile, “I’ll be doing leadership etiquette,” she nodded, her voice high and silky.

In the small silence that followed the introductions, you overhead Ben whispering to the curly-brown-haired guy something about wanting the first guy to be his mentor because of how cool he looked.

The old man took centre stage again and cleared his throat, which was beginning to aggravate you now,

“As for the trials, I am afraid the only information we can reveal to you is that you must be prepared in every department, to face whatever will be in there,” he nodded.

Jack’s hand rose,

“When exactly are the trials? We didn’t get any dates-”

“That is because they are confidential. We cannot ensure you are consistently working on yourselves if we give you a date to work toward, I am sure you understand. The trials will occur at random.”

At random?! So, you mean you actually had to study and work for this shit? Because they were happening randomly?! Fuck that shit. Everyone seemed to have agreed because they all broke out into murmurs of protest,

“How will they do that?” Ben called out, “Like, are you guys gonna pull us out of bed and just throw us in there? Cus if you are, BAD IDEA, I sleep totally-”

“Not at all,” the old man shook his head, “Our randomisation tools are highly advanced. All we can say is that you will be transported safely to and from the locations at the selected time” he nodded.

So you just had to believe that the administration would teleport you there whenever they felt like it? With no preparation? To participate in something that may have a chance of killing you?

“But how a-are we gonna prep-are?” the curly brown-haired guy spoke up,

“You should always be prepared for the trials,” the old man said, "Aren’t you aware of the role of The Operator? Don’t you have to be prepared to face anything? Think of the threats- if Zalgo attacks while you are in power, you won’t have time to prepare for it-” he sternly said.

“Toby’s right though-” Ben spoke up, “Surely we can be told like a day before?”

“We are here to test our ability to perform under extreme conditions. This is not a school mathematics test,” he said flatly,

“What about the morning of?”

You stifled a laugh. Only Ben would try to bargain with the administration team to make them change their laws.

You couldn't blame him though. Part of you understood where they were coming from, considering they were testing you guys based on raw ability. If you were exposed to dates and times, it allowed room for people who could study the night before to do so. Having them thrown upon you at random made the most logical sense, but you still didn't like it.

“No.” the old man said. Ben opened his mouth to speak, and he held up his hand, “Please do not waste my time asking for any leeway, Ben, you aren’t getting any.”

The grandfather clock at the back of the hall chimed. He spoke again,

“I will give you all a brief rest before I allocate you to your mentors, which thus will conclude our meeting for today,” he nodded, before proceeding out of the room.

Chapter Text

“I advise you all to listen carefully and remember who your mentors are. You are advised to meet with them briefly after this meeting to introduce yourselves,” the old man said. You were glad the meeting was closing up but felt a little sorry for whatever administrator got saddled with you. You couldn't imagine having to root for someone who wasn't even looking to try.

“Liu Woods, Tim Wright, you will be under my guidance,” the old man said. You bet he was glad he wasn't landed with Jeff. You were glad you weren't landed with Tim.

“Nina Hopkins and Jack Nichols will be under Jason,” he said, and you smiled over to Nina in a silent sort of solidarity. Jason seemed nice enough, and Jack was chill, as far as you were concerned. You looked over to Jack to gauge his reaction to the news and noticed he was already looking over at you. Finding this weird, you quickly looked away.

Anyways.

“Toby Rogers and Brian Thomas,” he said, and you revised the name in your head. Toby Rogers. That was the curly brown-haired guy. The one that randomly said bye to you. And Brian was the guy who walked past your dad’s office the other day. Orange hoodie guy. Okay, these names were coming to you faster than you expected. The old man spoke again, “You two will be under Candypop,”

The administrator dressed in luminous blue smirked down at them. You were happy it wasn't you, though by the look on Brian’s face, he wasn't sharing the joy.

“Clockwork and Jeff Woods,”

Oh no. You had never felt more sorry for a girl in your life. You looked across to her, and her head was already in her hands.

“You will be under Andromeda.”

You stand corrected. Now, you have never felt more sorry for a girl in your life.

“Jane Arkensaw and Ben Drowned,” Once again, you felt like laughing. What was it with them getting paired with the two guys who seemed to cause the most turmoil?

“You’ll be under Kagekao.”

Kagekao, who was now on his second bottle of wine, span around to them with a clap of his hands. You heard Ben mutter a “yessssssssss” that hissed out. Jane sunk into her chair.

That only left you and- wait, who else was there?

“Y/N L/N and Helen Otis will therefore be working under Laughing Jack,”

You gazed up at the monochrome clown guy. He was busy scribbling down some notes, the pen in his hand looking strange with how long and spindly his fingers were.

The old man’s speech concluded with gratitude to you all for showing up, not like any of you had much choice, and then gave you some time to work with your mentors. You were still trying to figure out which one Helen was, or what his skills had been on the information booklet.

You noticed everyone moving to find their allocated advisor. Ben spun around from two rows in front and grinned at Jane, waiting on her as she grabbed her bag.

“We got the best guy, bet- the weird ones always turn out to be the coolest,” he nodded.

As much as you wanted to laugh at him, you had to give him it for the decency of actually waiting on her. The rest of the candidates seemed to just stalk up on their own.

They walked up to Kagekao together, Ben animatedly babbling away, swinging on the backs of his feet as Jane nodded along with him, accepting her fate.

“I don't even wanna look at where Jeff is-'' Clockwork groaned slightly, but she had no choice.

For the second time today, Jeff had drawn attention to himself, making a point to shove his chair before storming out of the hall with his head down.

If Andromeda noticed him, she didn't let on.

This left two guys, one of who had to be Helen. One had light brown hair that swooped over his forehead, green eyes, and a face filled with stitches. The other was tall and thin, with stark black hair that fell softly over his eyes and a solemn-looking face. You noticed the brown-haired guy find Tim, and therefore concluded that the other one was Helen.

He looked, if anything, a little lost. He was slightly slouched over, his eyes darting back and forth, and you kinda almost felt bad for him.

So you, being the absolute social butterfly that you were, walked up to him with a small smile, “Helen right?”

He nodded, and despite his terrible posture, still wound up having to gaze down at you, “Y/n?”

You nodded back with a smile. He returned it, albeit hesitantly.

“I feel like our mentor’s really staring at us,” you said after a few seconds, and he looked over at Laughing Jack, who was leaning on a palm, eyes baring into the two of you. Helen’s hair fell slightly in his face. He reached up and ran a hand through it. Your stomach did a flip.

Okay.

Let's cut to the fucking chase. He was beautiful. Stunning, even.

His eyes were crystal blue, and his face pale and defined. His hair looked so fucking soft, and it fell so flawlessly into his face. And he was tall, like, you had to crane your head up to look at him type of tall. You wondered, briefly, what it felt like to be so effortlessly beautiful. You wondered if he knew you were literally finding it hard to hold a conversation without blushing like a twelve-year-old.

The only thing was the blue fucking trenchcoat he was wearing. It was hideous. Like, abysmal. But other than that, you were suddenly counting your blessings and wondering how you hadn't paid him any attention before.

He laughed a little. Your heart fluttered. Even his laugh was gentle.

“You’re right… C'mon…” he said, both of you turning to walk toward your mentor while you began to criticize yourself about your sudden childish thoughts.

No WAY y/n. Do not develop a fucking crush on your opponent during the Operator trials. What did you think this was? The Hunger Games? Grow up.

You decided as you approached your mentor that it definitely wasn't a CRUSH, just an objective commentary on an aesthetically pleasing guy. Yeah. that was all. Not a crush. You were simply admiring the fact he was visually appealing, that was all. Crucify you for being observant.

“My winning candidates-” your mentor crooned again, grinning down at you both from his spot at the table, “How divine it is to meet the both of you…my name is Laughing Jack, but please, call me Jack, Laughing is just my title” he joked, before rising.

And rising.

And rising.

And rising.

Oh shit, he was huge. Like, over 7ft tall huge.

“Over here-” he beckoned with his finger, which was easily the length of a ruler, taking you both into an empty corner just next to where Andromeda and Clockwork were having some tea, served by the same guy who had laid out your chairs, and talking animatedly.

You were too in awe at this man's height to even smile over at her. He was charismatic, you noticed, as within the first few minutes of conversation, he had thrown you both some jokes, talking lively and gesturing with both his hands and fingers as he ran through basic schedules,

“I’ll be meeting with you both individually throughout the week, can’t do Mondays- I got circus- I mean service-” he cackled again. You smiled, finding yourself a lot more engaged in what he was saying, both due to the way he didn't seem to breathe between sentences and how melodic his voice sounded.

“Now! Miss y/n, what’s your preference?” he grinned to you. You met his hypnotic eyes again and sat up straight, “any day but Monday-”

“I could do a Wednesday?” you offered. You didn’t really know how to tackle a conversation with him, considering he seemed to already throw you both in a thousand directions just by explaining the ground rules.

“Good to know y/n, but I asked for your preferred day, your favorite-” he asked again.

You had never actually stopped to think about your favorite day before. It threw you off guard.

“I guess Tuesday?”

“How's Tuesday evening at 7 pm for our weekly meetings?”

You agreed, suddenly getting the vibe Helen would rather die than have to talk to Laughing Jack one-on-one, judging by how he drew into himself and avoided eye contact whenever he so much as turned his head in his direction. When asked the same question, he mumbled something about not minding Thursdays, and it was quickly settled that Thursday mornings would be his slot.

You noticed a few of the other candidates rise- such as Tim, who was shaking the old man's hand firmly and thanking him. What a fucking suck-up.

Others, such as Ben, were engaging in loud conversation with their mentors like they were long-time best friends here only for a catch-up. You noticed Jane trying to catch your eye, and she mouthed ‘kill me’ as both Ben and Kagekao erupted into another fit of laughter at something Ben had said.

Clockwork was waiting for you at the door with Nina, having both been dismissed a few moments before.

You turned to Helen and smiled softly, “It was good meeting you Helen-” you said.

He returned the smile, and you felt your stomach erupt again.

///

Nina grinned, flopping back down onto her seat on the coach, her eyes sparking with wonder, “For someone who looks like he belongs in a circus, Jason was actually super chill,” she laughed.

The three of you had made your way back and were all talking about your individual meetings whilst waiting on Jane and the rest of them returning. You noticed how Jeff was sitting at the back of the coach, his beat-up Converse on the seat in front of him, earphones shoved into his ears.

Clockwork nodded, “I got free peppermint tea. If that was Andromeda’s way of winning me over, she won-” she laughed out, the three of you leaving and walking across the grass toward the coach.

“Laughing Jack was so…animated-” you nodded, “Like, did not come up for air once during the entire conversation, but he seemed nice-”

“I wonder how Jane’s getting on with those two-” you smiled, the two girls joining you in a laugh.

As if on cue, the doors opened, and in came Jane, looking emotionally demolished.

“All they did was talk about wine and weed?” Jane asked rather than said, in a voice a few octaves higher than she usually spoke with, “I asked Kagekao a question about schedules and he told me to stop taking life so seriously. HOW the hell am I supposed to train under that?”

Clockwork tilted her head,

“Is Ben even old enough to smoke weed?” she asked, “I thought he was like fifteen?”

“He’s turning twenty-” Jane said, using the hairbrush Nina had offered her to brush her unkempt hair back to normal, “would you believe it?”

Even you were shocked at that. By his energy and sense of humor, you guessed he couldn't have been over sixteen.

The bus was slowly filling with the rest of the candidates until the final two- Ben and Jack- made their way on, the former grinning, the latter not.

You expected the coach to take off immediately, but the driver, who was now very solemn-looking, took her place standing at the top of the aisles,

“I must apologize,” she said, her voice monotonous, “Due to a diversion created on our path, we are no longer able to return the majority of you to your homes tonight,”

Alarm sounded among you immediately.

“What sort of diversion?!” Clockwork swung her head around to the driver, who could only shake her head,

“I am afraid I am unable to disclose such information at the present time, only that you are all to go directly to the Operator’s Mansion until the diversion clears…”

“Is it something to do with Zalgo?” someone called. A few seconds of hushed whispers sounded among you,

Once again, she shook her head,

“I am afraid I am unable to disclose such information at the present time, only that you are all to go directly to the Operator’s Mansion until the diversion clears…”

It then occurred to you how similar to a robot she sounded, with her almost automated responses and lifeless eyes. It was as if someone was controlling her, telling her how to move her arms and what exactly she was to say. It was slightly unnerving. Everyone got the hint that she would not be sharing any more information, and her voice echoed through the now-quiet coach moments later,

“We will be embarking on our journey now. It should take no longer than forty-five minutes”

And with that, she disappeared back to the driver's seat, and you felt the coach begin to move.

The bus erupted in conversation, everyone swapping theories or mulling over their own suspicions. You were no different. First of all, the thing that happened in the forest, and now this? Why was it that weird things were happening so suddenly?

If it really were Zalgo, it was safe to say you were fucked. 

Chapter Text

“WOOHOO sleepover at y/n’s!” Ben called over all the commotion in the coach, a slapping sound filling the air as it became evident that Jack, who was sitting next to him, smacked him upside the head.

When the coach pulled up outside the mansion, all of you piled out and made your way into the living room, which was darker than usual, due to the fact that for once, no one was home to switch the lights on. Despite the annoyance of it all, you were slightly grateful you weren't alone right now. You assumed your dad must have been out, working with the diversion.

“Lovely place you got here!” Ben tried to start a conversation to make up for the painful silence that filled the huge room.

He was ignored as Tim began to speak again,

“I don’t understand....” he shook his head, “a diversion was just SUDDENLY created the day we had to travel together? That can’t be a coincidence-” he looked around for any sort of agreement, but barely anyone was listening. If they weren't diverging into their own conversations, they were glaring around them as if forced into a cage for the night. No one seemed to care much.

“Yeah but there really isn’t anything we can do about it right now, so what's the point in conspiring?” Jack asked, crossing his arms as Tim glared at him,

“The point of conspiring is that-” his voice dropped to a whisper, “Zalgo-” it returned, “could have attacked our homes whilst we were gone- it was clearly a threat!”

“It wasn’t a threat, it was a diversion now shut the fuck up and stop whining at us,” Jeff hissed. Tim turned slowly and glared at him, dropping his tone into something a lot less formal and a lot more threatening,

“You watch your fuckin mouth-” he pointed a finger to Jeff.

You met Nina’s wide-eyed gaze and pursed your lips. Tim was usually as uptight as they came. Hearing him swear like that threw you off.

“Listen guys, we’re all tired, it-” Ben began,

“Shut the fuck up Ben, I am sick of hearing your voice today-” Tim huffed. You narrowed your eyes. What a fucking asshole.

“Yo le-eave Ben out of this he’s only try-ing to help,” Toby defended, and Tim snapped around to face him.

“Talk to me again when you can actually get your way through a sentence-” He shot at Toby, who suddenly looked a lot less forgiving than ten seconds ago. He was standing straighter, fists clenched, and had begun smirking in a way that definitely did not seem good.

The atmosphere in the living room had never been more tense. You were sitting on the arm of the chair next to Nina, looking over at Liu who looked like he was ready to jump in any second. By now, Toby had edged his way into Tim’s face, and was tilting his head,

“S-ay that to me again..” you noticed how his eye twitched at the end, but didn't falter his gaze one bit.

Tim sucked his teeth and smirked like the cocky bastard he was,

“Talk to me again…” he said slowly like he was talking to a child, “when you can actually get your wa-”

BAM!

Before anyone saw it coming, Toby had socked Tim right in the nose. Your hands instinctively flew over your mouth. Clockwork was cackling, Ben was looking horrified, and Jack was picking his nails like this was something he was used to seeing. The entire living room was practically in an uproar. Tim pulled his fist back to return it when a voice rang out,

“STOP IT.”

It was, surprisingly, Brian.

“You’re all acting like fucking children,” he spat, rising to his full height, which seemed a lot taller now he had the room under his command. He grabbed Tim’s fist and forced it to his side again, “Save this for the trials.” he demanded, turning to Toby, “Both of you are in The Operator’s Mansion and this is how you’re acting? It’s embarrassing.” he said.

Suddenly you felt guilty even though you didn't do anything. But you were secretly thrilled. He got exactly what was coming to him. Kudos to Toby.

Tim stormed upstairs, slamming a door shut so hard you could have sworn the hinges broke. Toby rolled his eyes and made his way into the kitchen to clean the blood from Tim’s nose off his hand. Jeff disappeared soon after, presumably to one of the guest rooms he had claimed as his for the night. Brian had slumped with Liu back outside, while the rest of them stayed quiet, doing what they were doing.

“Men,” Clockwork laughed to the three of you.

///

You first noticed his gaze fixed on you during dinner.

Of course, if you didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, you could have easily got a Dominoes and called it a night, but unfortunately, it wasn't that easy. You had to fend for yourself.

Thankfully your fridge was practically overflowing with all sorts, and everyone practically helped themselves without even asking for your go-ahead. If you hadn’t come to terms with the fact they were all killers, this might have offended you.

You, Clockwork, Jane, and Nina decided to tackle pasta together.

The four of you waited with more patience than you thought was possible, as Ben and Toby, who was a lot more chipper than earlier, tried and failed to make their own pizza-hot dog combo.

Then, you waited even more as Liu and Brian grabbed some sandwiches and made their way back to the living room.

Waiting on Helen leaving was less of a task, however, because it wasn’t like you were opposed to looking at him. You had established that he was visually appealing, and you couldn't change that, so you just let it be. Nothing ventured nothing gained.

Eventually, because Jeff had yet to return from his room, and because Jack simply was not hungry, you got the kitchen to yourselves.

Jane let out a sigh of relief when the door closed, clipping her hair back into a messy bun while Clockwork straightened her hands out in front of her, cracking each of her fingers,

“Finally,” Nina smiled at the three of you, filling a fresh pot with hot water, “I thought they were never leaving…” she said.

You were so grateful to be one of the girls right now.

Jane made the pasta, while Clockwork made some garlic bread and Nina set the smaller kitchen table for the four of you to sit there, lighting a few candles and draping the tablecloth back over it.

You decided you would throw together some drinks. You were pretty sure your dad wouldnt mind if you took some wine, considering you noticed a few cans of beer had gone missing already. Plus, it had been a long day, and you were ending it with eleven strangers staying over in your house with no idea of how or if they would destroy it. You needed wine.

You grabbed four glasses and poured some in. Nina had switched on the radio along the way, and the four of you hummed along through the peaceful silence. For the first time today, you felt your shoulders relax.

Until the door opened and Ben’s head poked through

“Ladies, ladies,” he greeted with a grin, charismatically waving his hands, “whatever is going on in here is smelling absolutely DIVINE, and Toby and I here are starving, I’m sure you heard of our little mishap earlier-”

Toby’s head poked through and you noticed he had taken off his bandaid on his cheek to reveal a huge gash on the side of his face. He leaned on the doorframe, smirking slightly. You noticed he had bags under his eyes, and didn't seem at all similar to the quirky guy who waved you goodbye on the first day. Ben continued,

“We would just LOVE if you-”

Clockwork span around so fast you barely even registered her move, and fired the knife she was holding at the doorframe. Ben jumped with a small squeal. Toby didn’t so much as blink,

“Out.” she hissed, slamming the door in their faces before Ben could step any closer.

She turned to you all, unwedging the knife from where it so narrowly missed his shoulder,

“That’ll teach them-” she grinned, swiftly returning to her station. Nina only laughed and continued fixing the tablecloth. Jane smiled softly. You were still in shock.

You kept somehow forgetting that these people were not normal people. In fact, they were the farthest thing from fucking normal. And okay, you weren't much different. You could wield a blade like it was nothing. But seeing other people do it kinda needed a bit of getting used to. It wasn't your norm.

The four of you sat down with your wine and pasta and soon, the knife incident had been forced to the back of your mind. Of course, these were the people you were surrounded with. You were competing to become the OPERATOR. This wasn't some summer camp. You had to get used to this.

“This is just what I needed,” Jane said, sipping on her wine as you twirled some of the pasta around your fork.

Clockwork shoved a forkful into her mouth and nodded in agreement as Nina made her way through her garlic bread, “Thank you girls so much for this-” she smiled,

You all shared your thanks with each other before Clockwork grinned, her ticking eye whizzing around slightly,

“Just don't get too beat up when I crush you all to a pulp in this competition-”

You suddenly remembered the competition, and how everyone actually wanted to win it,

“We’ll see-” Nina grinned, “but when I win, I want free pasta like this once a week-” she giggled.

Despite the overarching theme of having to beat each other, the conversation was lighthearted. The wine definitely helped you relax and play your role in pretending to care about winning.

The door knocked, and Brian slowly entered,

“Mind if we go outside to smoke?” he asked, alluding to himself, Jack, and Liu, “according to Ben the stars are gorgeous tonight, he has some weird thing about them-” he snorted

The three of you looked at Clockwork briefly, but she seemed to be a lot more welcome to the three of them than Ben and Toby because she didn’t look up for more than a second.

“Yeah sure-” you smiled. Brian returned it, and the three of them stood at the back door, which was right next to your table, looking out into the forest.

“How’s the pasta?” Brian asked, leaning on the edge of the door and turning to talk to the four of you,

“Phenomenal- she’s a culinary genius-” you smiled, pointing to Jane, who let out a bashful laugh,

“I just threw it together…” She waved her hand in front of her face,

“Okay, Gordon Ramsey no need for the humbleness-” Clockwork teased, turning to the three of them, “you guys happy with your mentors then?” she asked.

You were kinda surprised at how calm she was in comparison to when she literally threw a knife at Ben’s head ten minutes ago, but then again, she was training to become the Operator.

Brian and Liu talked about their different mentors and how they had been warned various times about how probable death was in the trials if you didn't play your cards right. Of course, if all twelve of you did, then it was easily avoidable, but one minor slip-up could lead to your downfall, so it was important to prepare well.

This was a little concerning for you, who intended to not try at all.

You realized that that meant this was no longer only a test of strength, but a test of survival, too.

And that's when you noticed him staring at you.

It seemed to begin out of nowhere when you were zoned in listening to Brian talking about something Candypop had said to him.

At first, you thought it was a quick glance- accidental, happenstantial. You offered him a smile, before looking back to your glass and then to the others to join back in the conversation.

But he didn't do the same.

His soulless empty black sockets poured into you, and even when you refused to look in his direction again, you could feel it.

Maybe he was stuck in a daydream. Maybe he was too tired from the day and had just zoned out on your face.

But something about it told you you were scraping for the benefit of the doubt. You had never thought Jack was one of the creepy ones before, but then again, you had only spoken to him once. Without the lightheartedness of Ben next to him, and with the overcast of the evening shadow casting his silhouette all over, you started to see him in another light.

You decided to ignore it and focus instead on a mix of your plate and whoever was talking, silently praying he would stop looking like he was getting ready to pounce on you.

If it had been anyone else in the world, you would have looked him right in the eye and asked what the fuck his problem was. Other than the fact he actually had no eyes to look right into, you kinda got the vibes that he could take you in a fight. He was a lot taller up close, and you noticed how sharp his fingernails were at the ends. And his teeth.

A few times, you noticed his tongue gliding over them, and you forced yourself to gulp down more wine to awkwardly avoid him seeing you squirm beneath him.

“What about you, Y/N?” Liu asked, and your head snapped up. You noticed a small smirk creep onto Jack’s face like he had understood exactly how uncomfortable you had been. Finally, he looked away.

“Hm?” you cleared your throat, letting the remnants of your pasta fall onto the plate.

“How was your mentor?”

Suddenly, the walls seemed a lot less closed in. You resumed the conversation, stumbling your way through your meeting with Laughing Jack, but you were still unnerved by the whole thing. A few minutes later, Brian spoke again,

“I’m kinda cold, we should head back in and let you guys eat in peace and quiet,” he smiled gently.

Like being clicked out of a trance, Jack nodded, following the other two back into the living room and not looking back for a second. Your gaze, however, followed him the entire way out.

“Brian’s tolerable-” You caught wind of the conversation you were zoned out of, forcing yourself to nod along with the other girls and try to forget about what the fuck just happened. 

Chapter Text

Whether it was the lightheadedness that came with all the wine, or the simple fact that time had passed, you had managed to push the whole Jack incident to the back of your mind, deciding to chalk it up to the fact he wasn’t normal, just like the rest of you, and you were just gonna have to accept that.

Jane, Clockwork, and Nina threw their bags into the rooms next to yours, and despite your newfound method of scolding yourself every time you grew fond of one of them, you had to admit it was nice having neighbors for once.

Somehow, the four of you ended up in your room, getting ready for bed together. Considering none of them had pajamas with them, you thought it only necessary to offer up some of yours. You all acknowledged the subtle ridiculousness of it all: having a slumber party in the middle of the official Operator Trials, and found yourselves doubled over in more wine-induced giggles every time you mentionned it.

You span around in your matching pink tank top and bottoms, admiring at how Nina rocked a pair of purple shorts, while Clockwork stole an old pair of sweats and Jane opted for a black nightgown of yours.

“Okay, when I signed up for this, I expected beating each other to the death from day one-” Clockwork laughed, lounging on your bed as Nina braided Jane’s hair, “I never imagined THIS-”

“Ditto-” Jane snorted dizzily, leaning back on Nina with a huge grin, “But like… where’s the fun in spending all this time hating each other? Plus, when one of us wins, we’ll have to work together anyways, I’d want my Admin board to be filled with people i actually LIKE-” she hummed

Nina nodded, “And since we’ll be together so often… if we were all at each other’s throats constantly, we’d be depressed,” she laughed. By now, she had finished Jane’s hair and had moved to her own. You couldn’t help but admire the length of it.

You threw yourself next to Clockwork and realized how good of an idea the red wine was.

“Think the guys are all having this conversation right now?” you giggled, lying backward on your sheets and admiring the slightly spinning view from the mirror.

The three of them burst out laughing, and suddenly everything was a hundred times funnier.

“Please, did you SEE the way Toby socked Tim in the face?” Clockwork grinned, and all four of you immediately cracked up at the memory of it.

“God, men are so fucking stupid-” Jane added through her laughter, wiping tears from her face.

She hopped up to join you and Clockwork on the bed, and you felt how soft her hair was, brushing against your arm.

You couldn’t help but beam at nothing. In a time where you had feared training and trials and all things serious, here you were, drunk on wine and laughing with three other girls.

You decided that, for the first time ever, you might not totally hate this thing after all.

Sure, you were gonna drop out whenever you could, but you still felt some sort of relief knowing that they were here. You grew up alone, you did not know the comfort of other women until now. This, you could live with. The trials could suck it. The Operator could suck it.

But as Jane said, if one of them ended up winning this thing in the end, you might just consider working for them.

///

When you woke up the next morning, you were greeted with gentle birdsong and a feeling of warmth that had not left you since last night. The feeling was briefly interrupted by the memory of your nightmare last night, however, which involved burning trees and wishing wells and screaming, coming to you in flashes so hot you thought you might never stop thinking about them.

They did, however, subside eventually, and you managed to shake the memory just in time for breakfast.

The Underground Meeting would be held at 4 pm, and judging by the sounds of movement downstairs- soft footsteps and muffled conversation- you assumed your dad was not yet home.

Having other people in the house was weird. Fascinating, but weird.

You shut your bedroom door, heading downstairs to grab something to eat. And before you could even register who was in front of you, your heart began to thump in your chest. Standing just down the hallway, typing something into his phone, was Helen.

Somewhere between the mentor meeting and now, you had accepted the fate that he was more of a hallway crush than an objective appreciation. But who were you to deny yourself the pleasure of a little hallway crush? As a treat?

He noticed your footsteps and looked up. Onyx hair fell over his face slightly, and his grey t-shirt fell so flawlessly around his frame. Gleaming sapphire eyes met yours.

“Hey y/n…” he smiled softly, and your face heated up, cartwheels taking off in your stomach.

“Hi- morning Helen..” you said to him, and the gaze between you seemed to last a lifetime before you realized how much you had been staring. You cleared your throat, “You going for-”

You met his gaze again and inhaled. His eyes were practically twinkling down at you, his face pale and porcelain. Suddenly, you couldn’t speak. It was as if he had just rendered your mind a blank slate and glued your tongue to your mouth.

“Breakfast?” he interjected. It briefly snapped you out of the daze, but immediately hit you with the cold fact that he definitely knew you were checking him out. You cleared your throat,

“Huh? No, no I mean yeah, yeah- breakfast”

You both stumbled over words for a moment before finally descending the stairs side by side. That had to take the cake for the most embarrassing fucking conversation of your life. You wished you were dead.

At the bottom of the stairs, you shared one more polite smile before going in different directions- him to the kitchen and you to the living room, still cursing yourself for behaving so AWKWARDLY in front of a guy who was ONLY A HALLWAY CRUSH.

You looked into the room, where Tim, Jane, and Brian were talking in low voices.

“Morning-” you said, trying to drop the dampness in your tone, failing to do so when you locked eyes with Tim, who merely brushed you off like you were nothing but a piece of furniture, despite being the one sitting on YOUR seat.

“Morning-” Brian smiled as Jane moved over to give you some room next to her,

“We were just talking about how strange it is there’s a likelihood of death in the trials-” Brian said.

“Only for those who aren’t willing to put in the effort to win,” Tim said, and you narrowed your eyes at him. It was almost as if he knew something about you that no one else did.

“Well not everyone is guaranteed survival just because they’ve tried-” you shot. You couldn't help it, holding your tongue was not your forte. Plus, you’d just embarrassed yourself in front of Helen. You were in no mood to let things go.

Jane raised her eyebrows. Brian leaned back in his chair.

“Well if you’ve been selected to participate in such a major event, then surely you agree the baseline requirement should be survival. It would be laughable if you got killed in the trials.”

He spoke with an air of such passive sure-ness that you swore he was convinced he had already won, and this was simply a waste of his precious time. He continued, much to your dismay,

“I mean, it is forbidden for candidates to murder each other-”

Unfortunately, you thought.

“So the only way death would be guaranteed would be through idiocy to let whatever is in the trials to accidentally kill you- which would thus be a basic skill issue on your part-”

Jane seemed to notice the rising tension because with every word he said is bitterness grew, his eyebrows furrowing and lips thinning like he was speaking to a child, the same way he had spoken to Toby last night. You wanted to punch him. You were not as patient as you looked.

But Jane came to your rescue,

“I wonder if they’ll explain the whole diversion thing later,” she hummed

Brian jumped in, immediately dissolving the tension that had risen,

“Right, yeah,” he nodded, “I’m kinda nervous about it, I mean, when has anything like this ever happened before the trials? It’s definitely something to do with Him, right?”

It didn’t take a second for you to realize that 'Him' meant Zalgo.

“Well isn’t that obvious?” Tim practically scoffed, “Who else would try and sabotage us like that?”

You shot Jane a look, before opening your mouth again,  “It’s a little conceited to assume it’s a sabotage in the first place, or that it’s him doing it. How do we know there wasn't just an accident or something?”

Tim looked at you like you had just kicked him in the head,

“An accident? Oh great idea y/n, that settles it- there was a little accident that managed to block off four different parts of the city. You really have brains to burn don’t you?”

If the living room door didn't swing open, you might have begun punching.

With a small yawn, Ben emerged. He somehow was wearing his own pajamas- a black shirt with a washed-out picture of some video game on it and matching green bottoms.

“Mooornninggg-” he groggily said, flopping back onto the sofa to lay down, “You guys made breakfast yet? I’m starving-”

“If you think we’re making you breakfast you must be more of a dumbass than I thought-” Tim hissed, practically marching into the kitchen and drawing a cigarette box from his back pocket on his way out. You noticed how all his formalities had dropped when he wasn't trying to be the best in the room.

Ben huffed and turned to you and Jane, “Why’s he always in a mood?” he groaned, his eyes fluttering before he tugged himself up and into the kitchen.

///

You were sick of hearing about the diversion by 1 pm. With every person who came into the living room came at least ten more theories and suggestions on what was happening. All of a sudden, everyone was a mastermind in road accidents and the entire history of the nation. If you heard the name Zalgo muttered under someone’s breath one more time, you would explode.

And not just because you were growing frightened of him and didn’t want to admit it.

While you got dressed for the meeting, you picked up the leaflet of information you had received at the dinner party, looking over everyone’s skills in a new light. Everything felt really different now you actually knew them as people rather than just ‘candidates’.

You, despite constantly reminding yourself these people were nothing more than opponents, still felt your stomach sink at the mere look at their strengths.

I mean, Clockwork had connections with world leaders, Nina and Jane could both control fire, and Ben could manipulate electricity. These were the people you were about to be up against in here.

And then it dawned on you, as your eyes skimmed the page. The guy who was skilled in mutilations was simultaneously the guy with the big blue eyes and a nervous laugh. The same guy you had allowed yourself a little crush on.

You had to admit. Reading this about him was totally not selling him right now. Especially since you had been shuddering at the thought of what that meant from day one. How could a guy so soft-spoken have a hidden talent in MUTILATING people?

But then you remembered again where you were, and how being skilled in mutilations was probably one of the more tamer things in their eyes.

You cursed yourself for humanizing them again, but it was so hard not to when they practically begged to be.  You wondered how much morality could be attributed to them, and then caught a glimpse of yourself in your mirror.

How much morality could be attributed to you? You were also part of these trials, and no matter how many times you tried to kid yourself and say that it was different- you were different because you had not volunteered yourself, you were still part of them. You were still skilled in combat and scissor-throwing. Who knows what you were capable of?

Still, despite the battle in your mind raging on about good and evil, you couldn’t help but feel too… soft to be here.

I mean sure, there was no harm in being gentle, but when you were training to become The Operator? You weren’t sure gentleness was gonna cut it.

But it didn't really matter in the end, did it? Not when you were planning to drop out. But you just couldn't help but want to at least look like you had a chance. No one wanted to drop out because they weren't able to, you wanted to drop out with dignity.

But whatever. Beggars can't be choosers.

You heard Nina call your name from the stairs. Shit, the coach was outside.

//

The coach took you to the Administration building promptly in time for the meeting.

You immediately noticed, despite having assumed a leadership position the day before, the old man was nowhere to be seen. The other five administrators sat, staring at you all, as you took your seats on the same chairs as yesterday.

To your surprise, Brian was the first to question the change in numbers.

“We are hoping to have him back in time for the Standard Abilities Assessment in a few days,” Candypop smirked, the same smirk that had not left his face since you first saw him, “I am sure our driver has alerted you of the diversion?”

“I was wondering if you had any further details on it,” Brian said. He seemed to be the only one here who didn’t have a problem asking for something without demanding it.

“Oh, we have many!” Laughing Jack cackled, playfully smacking Jason on the arm as though to get him to join in.

He did not.

Kagekao, however, could not stifle his giggles for more than two seconds and had gone now to repeatedly slapping the table with his palm as though he had just been delivered the most hilarious stand-up comedy show of all time. You supposed the bottle of wine in his hand didn’t help. Jesus, this guy was drinking again?

Candypop allowed them their time to laugh, before announcing, “We cannot disclose any information right now until both The Operator and Head of Administration confirm details,” he said, before clapping his hands together and sending a loud bang ricocheting off the huge walls around you. You shot upright in your seat.

“Now, it falls on us five to warn you of the Underground dangers associated with none other than the infamous Zaglo,”

You noticed how a few of the others around you winced at him saying the name so loudly. You wondered, for a moment, why they were scared considering they were literally trained in murder. But then again, so were you.

Andromeda spoke up, flicking her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and straightening her circle-shaped glasses, “Basically, you need to be ready to recognize and potentially combat with him or his underlings at all times, but you can’t do that until you know how to actually recognize him,”

“He’s big-” Kagekao interjected, pointing a sharp talon-like finger at you all in a jest, before howling with laughter at which Jason glared. You saw Ben smirk from a few seats over.

“Despite being the Official Administration Team, we have yet to come face to face with the creature itself,” Laughing Jack crooned in his deep voice, which sounded a lot more monotone than usual. You noticed Tim’s gaze furrow and you assumed he was mad at their lack of experience.

Laughing Jack continued, “Therefore we must wisely speculate on his appearance based on previous accounts and observations through history, as you all very well know, Zalgo has been around for centuries, if not millennia,” he informed.

You wondered how he could go from being so chipper and fast-paced to so dark and serious, but your thoughts were cast aside when Candypop cast a hologram in the center of the room.

At first, you thought it was solely a shadow in blacks and scarlets. And then, it began to take shape.

Its body was huge, well over ten feet tall, with sharp limbs that looked as though they were nothing but bone, painted red. The entire body was littered with mouths- sharp fangs and snake-like tongues. You tilted your head upward to get a glimpse of its face and gasped softly. You had never seen anything like it. The creature's eyes were slanted, soulless, and pale white, and its jaw was unhinged to reveal thousands of sharp teeth laid in rows upon rows. And there, perched don the top of its head, were huge, twisting black horns.

“Holy shit…” Clockwork breathed out next to you, crossing her arms.

Silence filled the room around you. You were in so much shock, that you could only blink up at it and hope it would go away. This was the creature of nightmares. If you ever came into contact with it, you would drop dead on the spot.

You suddenly remembered the forest and your stomach did a nauseating flip.

A shrill voice stole your attention,

“Even the mere sight of him is enough to cause a reaction. So don’t be discouraged if you are feeling frightened-” Laughing Jack said.

Despite all of them being trained killers, you noticed how pale some of them looked. No one spoke for a few moments.

Jeff suddenly clicked his tongue and crossed his arms

“Is that it?”

Andromeda, to your surprise, turned to him with a look of disdain,  “Yes, do you think you could handle that?” she asked him, her voice flat.

“Obviously,” Jeff said, pointing to it, “I’ve seen much worse than that”

She looked like she was channeling all her patience at once, “Oh you have, have you?” she asked him, sarcasm dripping from her teeth. Despite looking the same age as you, she spoke with a tone that carried thousands of years of experience in dealing with people like Jeff, “Well, first of all, that-” she gestured to the model,  “is merely a hologram, so I’d like to think you’d seen worse at your level,

He scowled down to her. She didn’t flinch.

“Please do tell us though, how would you take Zalgo out single-handedly?”

He looked around like he was on some version of MTV punk'd, waiting on the cameras, before opening his mouth,

“I’d stab him, obviously, are you fucking dumb? Do you know who I-”

“You would stab him, would you?” she asked, before placing a hand over her chest and feigning relief, “Well I am ELATED we have you as one of our candidates. Why didn’t ANYONE else think of that before?” she shook her head, her voice sounding all over the walls before dropping back to its baseline level of sarcasm

“Do you seriously think we haven’t considered stabbing an option before? He is immune to both steel and alloys, for one, so no Jeff, you can’t just simply stab Zalgo,” she rolled her eyes, addressing the rest of the room again as Jeff glared down at her furiously clenching his fists together.

You, Jane, Nina, and Clockwork shot a look at each other. You wanted to laugh and noticed how Liu was sharing your expression. It was nice to see him knocked down a few pegs.

“Now, what to do if you spot Zalgo or any of his underlings…”

///

By the end of the meeting, you had learned four important things.

The first was, that if you ever came into contact with Zalgo or his underlings, your main priority was escaping. It was impossible to take him on alone, let alone with your minimal level of expertise. Doing so would result in instant death.

The second was that Zalgo’s underlings were practically an army. They lived just beneath you, and consisted of assassins and spies, all with one goal in mind: take down The Operator and claim control over the nation.

The third was that Zalgo was notorious for both murder and torture. He had been tormenting your people for centuries, and his lack of humanity would lead to him committing whatever atrocities necessary to grasp the power he so desperately craved.

You were a little confused about the whole lack of humanity thing, considering that technically, all of you were ruthless in one way or another, but then you realized that he was only considered such because of his desire to kill you and your people. This was not a one-sided manhunt, this was a war.

The fourth, and most important thing, was that if you ever found yourself helpless and stranded in the hell that was the Underworld, it was almost definite you would never come back.

Chapter Text

Two days later, on September 10th, you found yourself back in the coach en route to the Administration building, which, to be honest, you were already sick of seeing. Its greying walls and hazmat suits had oversaturated your days recently in a way that was just too much for comfort.

The diversion still had not cleared, and with every passing hour suspicions on why it was taking so long to clear only grew. I mean, with the only possibility of who created it being Zalgo, there were no arguments in that department. However, the what, where, and why were still up for strong debate.

As the Old Man was still caught up in clearing it, the boy with the brown hair and big eyes who had served you all at the first meeting was leading you all down a different corridor to the room in which the Standard Ability Assessments would be taking place. He didn’t speak much, only beckoned you to follow him down the dimly lit halls.

You weren’t nervous about the assessment. I mean, it’s not as if it were actually going toward anything. It was nothing but a way to gauge your starting point, which technically meant it was all uphill from here. Plus, as long as you survived, you couldn’t complain about anything.

You found yourself walking next to Toby while in the process of avoiding Jack’s ever-so-lingering stare. He cracked his knuckles the entire walk through the tunnel-like hallway you had been led into, sending clicks ricocheting off each and every crevice.

You heard Tim sigh from behind you both, but he kept his mouth shut.

You were led into a huge gymnasium, and you thanked the brown-haired boy as he dropped you off, before taking it all in. The ceilings were so high you had to lean back to see them, and the floors were covered in huge, deep blue gym mats. Around the place were climbing structures and stands littered with weapons. On the very back wall lay a range of different targets: dart boards, dummies, punching bags, and right at the very corner sat a large, folded-up table, where the five administrators spoke in hushed tones.

And then they spotted you and quickly returned to their seats as though they had been students caught talking during a test.

The only one who stayed standing was Candypop, who narrowed his eyes and greeted you all with a level of confidence similar to that of yesterday. You guessed he liked the stand-in leadership role he’d adopted.

“Alright candidates listen up!” he clapped again, the same snapping noise shooting out like fireworks off every wall around you, “Today is the day we see what we’re working with! I want you to give us your all, act like this is the real thing- remember, the better your assessment goes, the better we can shape you,”

He looked back at the four others. Jason seemed to be the only one paying any attention. Andromeda was writing something down on her clipboard, and both Laughing Jack and Kagekao were failing to hold in their laughter over something. This somewhat settled any last-minute nerves that had started in your stomach.

“As it would be idiotic to allow you to watch your opponents display their strengths, we will be taking you one at a time, so please make your way into the room on your left until you are called,” Jason cleared his throat.

The boy with brown hair appeared again, opening the door leading to the room and letting you all file into it.

It looked as if it were a cross between a kitchen and a doctor’s office waiting room- with its plush green chairs, peeling yellow wallpaper, and a worktop along the edge with a kettle, a toaster, and a microwave. Fluorescent lights dimmed and flicked above your heads, casting imprints of your shadows over the carpeted floors.

The brown-haired boy spoke for the first time, in a timid, yet melodic-sounding voice,

“Refreshments?” he asked, pulling a trolley out from the corner of his room and beginning to fill it with teacups and biscuits.

You were elated. You fucking loved a biscuit.

Ben and Toby hopped up giddily and followed him, babbling on about how they were in desperate need for something to drink in the hot weather.

A larger shadow suddenly cast over the room, and you looked up to see Candypop leering in the doorway. He was a lot taller than he seemed from a distance, practically taking up the entire space, even with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Jane Arkensaw, please follow me-” he called

Despite the innate knowledge she was your opponent, and technically, you should be preying on her downfall, you couldn’t help but murmur a quick “good luck” to her as she stood up. She gave you a small smile, but still, you felt a little stupid. No one else had even acknowledged her leaving, even Nina and Clockwork seemed too caught up in rehearsing their own strategies right now to care.

And on top of that, Tim was glowering at you like you had just confessed your undying love for her, loud and proud.

“What the hell are you wishing her good luck for?” he hissed to you, “You do understand she’s your opponent, don’t you?”

Despite saying the exact words rattling around your own mind right now, you couldn’t help but huff back to him, just to prove a point,

“What are you so obsessed with my business for?” you glared, and he shot you an eye-roll.

The next few minutes passed in silent retreat, waiting to see what happened once Jane came back. She quickly returned, hair tied into a ponytail, looking slightly out of breath, and immediately made her way to the refreshment trolley for a glass of water.

Liu went next, followed by Helen, followed by Ben, and the rest of you sat, either rehearsing strategies, recuperating from the assessment, or in your case, observing the people around you.

The place was quiet until it wasn’t.

A low rumbling began circulating at your feet. You looked around you, catching the confused gazes of Liu and Brian, which told you you weren’t going crazy and the floor was actually vibrating.

Then, like a bomb being set off, a flash of white erupted around the room, and one by one, the electrics began to blow. The kettle, toaster, and microwave let out a series of blue sparks before switching off, and then the lights above your head took turns brightening and then short-circuiting, leaving the room, for a few seconds, in total darkness.

The door opened. The lights slowly faded back on.

And Ben walked out.

He looked disheveled, his blonde hair askew and sticking up at the back slightly, his shirt unkempt. He dusted off his hands and grabbed a biscuit from the refreshments table, ignoring the astonished looks that greeted him.

“That went well,” he grinned, biting into the biscuit.

Without saying anything, you all slowly peered into the gymnasium, where all five administrators still looked stricken.

Well? That went well?

You felt shock mix with pride at the sight of it all. Ben had been the most welcoming one there, and part of you wanted nothing more than to congratulate him on his clear success. But at the same time, you were a little bit afraid. I mean, if Ben could do something that powerful, who knows what the rest of them could do?

A small, selfish part of you felt a little lied to. I mean, Ben had come off as easily the weakest of the group this far, and the fact that he had just done… that, told you he was anything but. It sorta made you feel as though his entire personality up until now had been an act, a ruse for the power he had inside of him.

The feeling disappeared after a while because, at the end of the day, it was your fault for assuming that he was weak based on his personality. None of the other guys seemed bothered by it, because this was exactly what you were here for. To defeat each other.

This was a battle for control. Not a friendly competition. You needed to learn that.

The rest of the assessments flew by quickly. Whatever budding tension was at the start had relieved itself by the time Nina came back. Clockwork was still pacing in the corner, murmuring strategies to herself, while Jane just looked glad to have it all over her.

The rest of the room lay silent, save for Toby who was getting his nervous energy out by babbling to he brown-haired boy. Jeff, to your surprise, was busying himself by pouring his third cup of tea in the hour.

“What?” he shot over to Helen through a glare, who had been watching him with the same curious expression. Didn’t it occur to him how odd he looked holding a tea cup and drinking from it?

You guessed even assholes had to get their kick somehow.

You were still avoiding Jack’s stare, which had finally proved successful, considering he had not looked at you once since you entered the waiting room.

He was called in next, and he shot up and filed in like a militarian.

Minutes later, he emerged, and this time, it was you who stared.

He was holding his hoodie in his hands, revealing nothing but a tight white tank top that accentuated the muscles on both his abdomen and arms. His brown hair was tussled, slightly damp, over his forehead, and his strong knuckles were covered with fresh cuts and bruises. He was gleaming with sweat all over and had just finished wiping a droplet of blood from his lower lip. He slammed the door behind him and made his way to the first aid station in the corner, expressionless as ever.

Suddenly, the idea of all that staring over dinner wasn’t so scary anymore.

You couldn’t help but tilt your head in his direction. You felt your mouth go dry. Flashes of the way he ran his tongue over his sharp teeth whilst staring you up and down flickered in your mind as he bit down on some of the bandaging to cover his knuckles. Had he always been that tall?

“-Y/N!”

You snapped your head up to see Candypop’s eyes baring into yours.

Oh shit. You didn’t even hear him call you the first time.

When you finally dragged yourself to the gym, the five administrators locked their eyes on you, waiting on you to begin.

You actually had no idea WHERE to begin. You meant to plan for it, but with Ben’s surprise explosion and… Jack, you forgot.

Well, a little improv never hurt anybody.

You grabbed three of the training dummies and positioned them at the three free corners of the room, where the administrators could see them.

You might not have a plan, but you knew you were a natural sho when it came to dummies.

You grabbed three pairs of scissors from the weapons rack and suddenly felt nervous.

Sure, you didn't REALLY care. You kept telling yourself that, but the more you did it, the less you actually believed it. The trials, for one, could suck your dick, but having the administration team score you low knowing and expecting more from you, the Operator’s daughter, kind of made you feel sick to your stomach.

You breathed in and out slowly.

Okay, y/n, just do it. It’s no big deal.

You briefly caught a glimpse at one of the training dummies that had been mutilated beyond repair.

You closed your eyes and ignored it.

You thought about the forest. Strangely, it had begun to motivate you.

The shadows. The crows- squawking and squealing. The feeling of being followed. The likelihood that you were being followed. The nervous feeling of adrenaline in your veins, building and building as you ran, and ran, and ran.

And the scissors flew from your hand in sequence. You held your breath, imagining them slicing through the shadows, freeing you from your terror.

You opened your eyes.

There, in perfect precision, were the three pairs of scissors, jutting out from each of the dummies’ hearts.

A small grin came over you. Thank god you didn’t miss it.

You remained stood as Candypop measured the angles of each of them. You didn’t care about the details. You didn’t miss it! You did more than satisfactory.

“Excellent precision y/n, please return to the room on your left and we’ll alert you of your scores once they’ve been settled,”

The words lit up your spirits again.

Excellent, not just good, excellent.

On your walk back, you noticed Laughing Jack, leaning against the wall as though waiting for you.

He smirked, beckoning you closer- so close that you could feel the warmth of his body against yours.

“Well done y/n…” he crooned down to you, “you’ve made me proud today, what a good little candidate you are…”

Suddenly your cheeks felt hot. He hadn’t broken his stare, nor his smirk.

“Thank you…” you mustered out. Maybe it was the proximity between you, but this felt… weirdly intimate. The way he spoke in hushed tones and hooded eyes only added to the illicit feeling of it all. Plus, you couldn’t see him saying all that to Helen.

But then again, maybe not. Maybe this was just the way he was.

You smiled up to him and shyly entered the room again, where Toby replaced you in the gymnasium and you were left to mull over your performance.

Soon, the assessments were over, ending with Tim emerging, looking as stuck-up and proud as ever. You were called into the gymnasium again to receive your scores together, which heightened your nerves again. Hearing your scores with the others present made you feel like you were getting a test back that you hadn’t studied for, and your classmates were all first-class honors students.

“Scores were calculated based on a range of four factors,” Candypop announced, “Planning, precision, footwork and ability, and then averaged on a scale of 1 to 10,”

You sighed slightly. Sitting there in rows while they basically set you up for character defamation had just made the top ten most humiliating moments of your entire life. Seriously, the trials could not be worse than this.

“Therefore in no particular order,” announced Jason, “Ben Drowned scored an average of eight,”

Ben grinned ear to ear but didn’t say anything whilst Jason continued listing the scores, his flaming red hair framing his face as he did so,

Joining him in the 8’s were Toby and Tim, the former looking unbothered, the latter gleaming with pride. You wanted to slap it off his face.

Clockwork, Jane, Brian, and Jack all scored sevens, which you thought was pretty impressive.

You, Nina, Helen, and Liu scored six, which you couldn’t complain about, considering you were neither lowest nor alone in scoring it.

“And Jeff averaged a four,” Jason finished with a satisfied smirk on his face, setting down the papers in front of him.

Like a whip cracking, Jeff’s voice pierced the room,

“A FOUR?!”

He was glaring daggers into Jason’s skull, who did not look at him for more than a second.

“If any of you are unhappy with your score, please feel free to discuss it with your mentor. Now, you are all officially dismissed from the assessment. I must inform you, the diversion is still to be cleared, therefore I am afraid you will have to make your way back to the Operator’s mansion until further notice,”

You noticed, on your way out, Jeff marched up to Andromeda,

“Are you going to say something to me Jeff?” she asked blankly,

“No, I'm just standing here for no fucking reason.” he spat back sarcastically to her.

They then began to bicker, but you didn’t hear the rest of it due to a softer voice calling your name.

“Y/n, you coming?” Jane asked you, waiting for you to walk alongside her.

Once again forgetting about the whole ‘they’re supposed to be your opponents’ thing, you followed her.

You’d curse your kindness later.

Chapter Text

The red mist began to surround the mansion at around eight pm that night.

The left side of the forest, which typically lay barren and beautiful, had slowly succumbed to painting itself scarlet and camouflaging within the newfound fog. It was happening slowly, slow enough to convince the few who saw it that it was nothing more than a hallucination on their behalf.

“Toby, I mean it, there’s really nothing there,” Liu spoke with a gentleness in his tone as though comforting a child. Toby, the taller of the two, stood at the window, waving one of his arms like a lunatic in the direction of where he had claimed to see it.

“Are you c--crazy?!” he asked, “Look at i-it, look at the gr-ass, it’s covered-”

He pointed downward and Liu leaned forward, trying to see what he meant. But he shook his head,

“I still can’t see anything,”

This debate had been going on for the last fifteen minutes, which was enough time to make Tim, who was frankly too nosy and too self-anointed to allow himself to remain in the background, stand up and march over to the window like he was in charge of it. He peered over for all of three seconds before turning to Toby with a look of disgust which can only be explained by the bruise on his face caused by the boy the day previous.

“Are you on crack? Is that what you’re snorting? Crack?” He crossed his arms, looking up at Toby, who sighed in frustration and covered his face with his hands. He turned around to you, Clockwork, and Brian, who had been trying to mind your own business.

“Where's B-Ben?” he asked. Tim only scoffed,

“Yeah, because Ben is the voice of reason in ANY situation,” he rolled his eyes.

Toby, at this point, seemed to have given up, and was now angrily clenching his fists and shouting,

“I am fucking te-telling you guys something’s there!” he shouted, scratching his nails on the exposed flesh on his neck, enough that a long red mark was beginning to form.  You noticed that the more frustrated he was, the more physical he got- now cracking his knuckles and twitching his left eye.

Then, like a parent who had given up letting their two children work out a disagreement between themselves, Brian stood up and walked to the window.

“Move,” he snapped, and Toby and Liu stood out of the way to let him see.

It took around thirty seconds for him to speak, and within the seconds of silence, the rest of you had craned your heads around to hear the verdict.

And then,

“Toby’s right, there’s some sort of red fog there,”

The moment the words left his mouth, Clockwork had hopped over the back of the sofa and raced to the window to see for herself. Helen, whom you had been avoiding the gaze of since yesterday’s most embarrassing moment of your life, followed her, and seconds later you found yourself standing next to them all, curiosity at its boiling point.

And sure enough, they were right. A thin layer of mist, maroon in colour, was dancing it’s way very faintly around the trees and painting the grass a blood-like shade.

“How the hell did you miss that?!” Clockwork snapped at Tim, who mumbled something about it not being as easy to see a minute ago. You caught a satisfied smirk on Toby’s face. If you were asked to comment on it, you’d say it was only getting thicker by the second.

The group of you watched it for what seemed like hours before boredom took over, and after a brief agreement that it didn’t seem to be out of hand, you all went back to living your lives.

By 10pm, however, the smog had gone from painting a small veil over the forest grounds, to completely enveloping everything in sight with its fume-like appearance. By now, you could make out nothing but hues of reds and burgundies any time you so much as gazed at the windows, and as the minutes ticked on, the darker the mansion appeared. With the end of summer promising its early nights, the sun, which was providing the only source of life outside right now, had fallen to it’s slumber, and no moonlight could penetrate the fog.

You, and everyone else it seemed, judging by the uncomfortable, quizzical silence around you, couldn’t help but wonder what the hell it was there for. How did it get there? What did it mean? Was it dangerous? How long would it be there for? Where was your dad?

Sure, he may have been the most powerful and protected man out there, but he was still out there. Plus, if the fog was this crazy over here, you couldn’t imagine what it was like in the nation itself. Something told you it was no coincidence it showed up in the midst of the diversion.

You were sitting in the kitchen alone, perched on the counter and watching it from the window, thinking of all the possibilities of what it could be when the door pushed open softly.

You were too in your thoughts to even offer the figure a smile, but your general curiosity made you turn your head.

And you froze.

There, opening the cupboard and tugging a glass out, stood Jack. All 6 feet of him, as nonchalant as ever.

Despite the past few days being filled with staring on his end and begrudging physical attraction on yours, you had yet to be in a room alone with him. You suddenly had the urge to make yourself seem very busy.

Like, did you say hey? Did you smile? Did you ask for his opinion on the whole diversion?

Seriously, what the fuck did you do right now that didn’t involve staring at him and thinking about what would happen if he-

Okay, y/n, enough.

You decided to flick the kettle on, considering your mind had a secret third option to fight or flight, which was to make some tea.

Any lingering stares you had were saved for when he had his back turned to you, grabbing some ice from the freezer, and you couldn't help but focus on how huge his hand looked wrapped around the tiny glass he was holding. It had occurred to you before how almost unnaturally huge some of his proportions were, but holy shit…

The two of you stood in a loud silence, side by side yet not together. You stirred your tea, he poured some water into his glass. You felt his eyeless stare on you. You assumed he felt yours on him.

You tried to cut it out, reprimanding yourself every time your wandering eyes found a new vein on his arm or freckle on his skin. With this on your mind, it was clear you weren’t really focusing on what you were doing because you didn’t realize the cupboard door above your head was open when you leaned over to throw your spoon into the sink.

You only realized what was going on when his hand shot out, so casually as though doing nothing at all, and blocked your head from whacking against the wood. He wasn’t even looking in your direction… his reflexes were just that good.

“Careful,” he hummed amusedly, the smirk on his face only growing as he turned to fully face you. You could feel the heat from his body against yours, and the two of you were basically inches apart. You had to tilt your head up to look at him, and you paled at the sight of it: his hand still holding the edge of the cupboard, you were practically trapped in between that and his body.

If he wanted to, he could do anything right now, and you wouldn’t even scream…

“Thank you, Jack…” your breath wooshed out.

He stared at you for a moment longer, tilting his head, the smirk still fresh on his face. You felt yourself clutch the countertop and squirm beneath him, face flushed. You could have sworn he was getting closer

And then he pulled away,

“Don’t mention it,” he nodded, grabbing his water and striding out again, leaving your hand still holding the counter and mouth still gaping.

What the fuck was that all about?

To your utter dismay, before you could even replay the scene in your head, the door opened again and Tim came through, muttering a ‘get out of my way’ to you and practically shoving himself to the back door with a cigarette in his hand.

If that was anything, it was your cue to get the fuck out of there.

You couldn’t lie, you were fucking beat out. With all the diversion theories and the sudden smog, you were sure of one thing, and it was that you needed your bed.

You tugged on your pyjamas and looked out your bedroom window for one last attempt at seeing something- anything- through the mist. Sure, it was only a bit of red fog, but the fact you couldn't see the forest- the place you had grown up exploring and had provided almost constant comfort to you since you were younger kinda uneased you a little bit.

You gazed down to where the trees usually lay, squinting slightly, before…

You leant forward, trying to judge whether what you saw right now was real or just you and your delusions.

Was that… a shadow…?

You practically had your nose to the glass, tracking the small, black figure that had just taken shape amidst the wine-red hues. Too short to be your dad, but large enough for you to follow it as it took its position at the base of what you supposed was one of the trees, it finally stopped.

You were too curious to be paralyzed with fear, but your heart still thumped in your chest as you spied on it.

It seemed to be standing still as if it were watching the mansion.

And then, just as quickly as it had come into focus, it disappeared.

You spent another while trying to find it, and then silently begging it to show itself again, the realisation that it had been the second shadow in the forest to show itself over the course of the week weighing heavily on your mind.

After another while of scanning the area, you gave up, shutting the curtains and falling back onto your bed.

Somehow, the presence of eleven killers in the mansion became a comfort to you as you fought your way to sleep.

///

You awoke the next morning to the sound of three large bangs coming from the room next door.

They practically sent your bedroom wall vibrating, and as a consequence, sent you rattling awake with your heart pounding and the absolute shit being scared out of you. For a moment you considered the possibility that one of them had grabbed a gone and went apeshit with it, because what the fuck.

The fear wasn’t helped by the red mist, which had now completely swarmed the area around you in complete darkness despite the fact it was 9am. Seems like it just got thicker overnight…

You found yourself staring at the wall for a few brief seconds before realising who exactly was next door.

Nina.

Your feet moved faster than your head. You pulled on a pair of socks, yanking open your bedroom door and knocking on hers within five seconds of stirring awake. You suppressed a yawn as her footsteps were heard on the other side, a silent plea of ‘please be alright, please be alright,” sounding in your head.

It genuinely sounded as if someone had been bludgeoned to death in there.

She pulled open the door with a soft yawn to mirror yours. One of her arms was completely decked out in her usual band bracelets and bangles, the other seemed to be in the midst of getting covered. Her laces were undone, but she stood fully dressed, as though she were getting ready to head out.

“Morning y/n, I’m just heading down for breakfa-” she began, before noticing the state you stood in, “you good?”

Her eyes filled with concern, and she set down the bunch of bracelets she had in her hand with a clatter on the desk next to her, before reaching out and gently holding onto your arm. You looked at her up and down, almost waiting for her to shout ‘psyche’ and join you in freaking out. But she didn't.

“The banging,” you pointed to the wall, which lay virtually untouched, “I heard them…they woke me out of my sleep… what happened?”

She slowly followed your gaze to the wall before looking back at you, tilting her head softly,

“The bangs?” she asked, “What bangs?”

You felt so fucking confused right now.

The bangs had been so loud you could have sworn everyone would have been crowding the halls to see who had done it. They had woken you out of your sleep and practically jolted you halfway down your bed. Surely she had heard them.

“On… the walls,” you gestured again to the untouched walls, “I heard them.;. They woke me up…”

She looked as if she was trying to understand you, but it wasn't working very well. You suddenly felt a little crazy.

“On my walls?” she asked, “those ones? Are you sure? I’ve been up from 8, and I didn't hear anything-”

You had three seconds to not make yourself look like a total maniac right now.

“I guess they could have come from above me… could have been Jeff, having another tantrum…” You tried to laugh it off, but she looked as concerned as ever,

“Are you sure, y/n, you seem pretty-”

“Honestly, this place is filled with creaks and bangs,” you laughed, your face feeling hotter than ever. You had become hyper-focused on the fact you only had one sock on.

“Well hey, thanks for checking in on me-” Nina laughed along. You weren’t sure if she really believed you, but you were grateful she was at least pretending to, for your dignity, “How about I put you on some breakfast? I’m heading down for some now,”

“Thanks, Nina, I’ll uh- I’ll be down in a few, just gonna get dressed-” You forced a smile and bid your momentary goodbyes before rushing into your room and slamming the door shut.

You had to do it. You had to check. Even though there was an insane level of fear taking over you right now, causing your hands to shake and your face to pale, you knew you had to.

You pulled open your bedside drawer and tugged out the information sheet, almost pulling the pages apart in trying to find it.

And then you did. Listed right at the bottom of the last page.

How to identify an Underworld threat.

And, scanning down the options, you saw it. The third option down:

Knocking from inside your walls.

The day in the forest, the shadow last night, the red mist, and the diversion swarmed around your head and poked little jabs at your conscience, but denial was your new best friend.

It couldn't be. No, surely not.

I mean, obviously, the red mist and the diversion were likely due to the underworld, but knocking on YOUR bedroom wall? No. Nope. That had nothing to do with it. You were pretty sure it was just Jeff throwing another tantrum, or maybe you just dreamed it up. Sure, yeah, that seemed plausible. You had realistic dreams sometimes! Everyone did! Now let's never talk about it again!

You shoved the leaflet back in its spot and closed your bedroom curtains. It wasn’t as if you could see anything outside anyway, but having them shut made you feel… safer.

By the time you got dressed and went downstairs, most of the candidates were  there, and you overheard their conversations as you descended the staircase,

“What do you think he wants with us?”

“Probably our souls,”

“You think he’s out there right now?”

You cringed as you recognised the topic of conversation fell, once again, one of the very things you were trying to push to the back of your mind right now.

By the time you reached the living room, you noted that someone had graciously lit the place up with candles to avoid leaving the mansion in total darkness with the fog. You attempted, once again, not to listen to those talking and theorising as Nina appeared with your cup of tea. You thanked her and followed her into the somewhat busy room.

Ben was sitting on the edge of the sofa, tapping away at some green Gameboy you thought went out of stock in the 90s. He was wearing his pyjamas still, and adding comments wherever he saw fit, which was mainly only whenever he saw room for a joke. Jane, Clockwork, Liu and Helen surrounded him around the room, deep in conversation about the mist outside. You could hear similar topics from Toby and Brian echoing from the kitchen

“Why do you guys think it happened?” Jane asked, tugging her blanket around her legs. She looked beautifully picturesque in the dim lighting, and you watched as she tucked herself in to get more comfortable.

“I mean… I guess it was definitely you know… him…” Nina nodded with a knowing look, “The colour of the fog matches the colour we saw in the hologram the other day, remember- the dark reds-” she hummed, “Maybe it’s like… his signature or something-”

“I wonder why he hasn’t just made his move on us yet-” Liu said. You, who did not want to look as crazy as you felt, chose not to say anything right now.

“Probably because we’re under constant protection by the administration- I bet all sorts of security’s on this place, it’s the safest in the nation-” Clockwork suggested, “Pretty much one of the only things the admin’s great at”

“Actually, Clockwork, Zalgo was in for breakfast earlier- he takes bacon with his waffles, by the way-” Ben joked, and she rolled her eyes with a small grin up at him.

“Speaking of, I’m starving,” Liu hummed, disappearing off to the kitchen. Almost seconds after he did, Jeff came into the living room, scowling the same as ever. It seemed even he was curious about it all.

“What? Andromeda not end up changing your score?” Clockwork asked, sarcasm dripping from her tone as Jeff glared at her. You admired her. She had some balls talking to Jeff like that when as far as you were concerned, he was ready to pounce on anyone who looked at him wrong.

“Course she fucking didn't,” he muttered, “fucking bitch… anyone gonna tell me what the fucks going on out there?” he pointed to the window, looking around as if it were your fault the world was now red.

Jane, who had neither the patience nor the ability to tolerate someone talking down to her like that, spoke up,

“Maybe if you came and asked, someone would have told you,”

“Well maybe I was busy,” he snapped back. She only shrugged,

“Tough shit then,”

The door creaked open and everyone turned to see Liu, standing now like he had just been caught listening in on something forbidden. Jeff took one look at him and stormed back upstairs again, slamming his door so loudly you swore wood splintered.

You knew better than to question it.

The second Liu sat back down, conversation resumed back to the fog, which led into the diversion, which by now, you were both so tired of hearing about and so terrified of confronting the past few instances of shadows and knocks, that you had to leave the room to avoid bursting with frustration.

When you opened the kitchen door, a voice spoke, making you jump right out of your skin.

“Sick of h-hearing about the div-ersion too?”

There sat Toby, alone, tossing a tangerine up and down and swinging back on one of the wooden chairs. It seemed Brian had gone back upstairs.

Honestly, you didn’t really know what to make of Toby. One minute he seemed talkative, lively and friendly, and the next- melancholic, snappy and quiet. It wasn’t that you disliked him, you were just constantly trying to stay on his good side.

So having him sit here and talk openly to you was kinda strange, but who were you to be a dick about it

“Yeah,” you nodded, hopping back up onto the counter you often sat at,

“Honest-ly,” he twitched his neck, “If I hear T-im say something about Z-Zal…” he paused momentarily, “Zalgo… one more time, I’m gonna kno-knock his lights ou-t…” he smirked, “again-” he added with a cackle.

Whether by desire, impassivity or the smoothness of his voice, you couldn’t help but become transfixed on how he tossed the orange up and caught it, listening to him speak and laughing lightheartedly with him.

“Fucking ditto,” you laughed out, “kudos to you for holding your ground this morning when he was trying to make a dick out of you over the fog, nothing was more satisfying than seeing that butthurt look on his face,” you sniggered.

Toby lit up, excitement ensuing in his movements as he cracked his knuckles and turned to fully face you,

“ye-yeah,  really put him in his fuck-ckin place didn’t I?”

You laughed. He did the same, the bandaid on his cheek peeling ever so slightly. It looked new, and it occurred to you he must have had to replace it daily. That must have been a pain in the ass. You decided then, that Toby was cool. You fucked with him.

“Yak-know y/n… we’ve nev-never properly talked…” he hummed out as if talking only to himself, picking some skin off his fingers on the opposite hand.

Then, he did something extremely unexpected.

He locked his huge, hazelnut-brown eyes onto yours, and stretched out his hand, which was covered in bruises,

“Name’s Toby,”

He was introducing himself to you.

You smiled gently. It seemed that, despite seeming a little wayward, Toby actually had a lot more manners than the rest of them.

So you hopped off the counter and shook his calloused hand,

“I’m y/n,”

Chapter Text

You returned to the kitchen later that night for reasons your subconscious only knew to be concerned with wanting to see if there was any more drama revolving around the fog that had flooded your homeland. To no surprise at all, the first thing you were greeted with was Ben, trying to gauge who thought the fog was harmless and who thought it contained some sort of poison.

You were sitting at the kitchen table with Jane, listening to him speak about the possibilities of walking out into it and dying on the spot. Brian stood at the sink, rubbing circles with his fingers on the bridge of his nose.

“I think I should check,” Ben suggested, and Brian shook his head

“Ben there is no way in hell you’re opening that door,”

“But how are we gonna know if it’s actually dangerous or not? C’mon Brian, you know you want to” Ben was urging with a grin.

“Ben, I mean it, if you open that door, I’m going to smash your head through it,” Brian retorted in a flat, sardonic tone. You had to bite your tongue to avoid laughing.

“You saying that makes me wanna open it more,”

Brian sighed, “Okay Ben, go, try it and see what happens,”

Ben hesitated. He looked outside, and then to you guys, and then to Brian, almost waiting on someone to intervene.

“You know what, I actually don’t feel like opening it right now,”

Both you and Jane snorted at him, and he shot you both a joking wink as though to confirm he was actually just kidding the entire time. He turned back around and pressed his face against the glass, looking out.

The door opened again, and in came Helen, hair slightly damp from the shower. He edged his way into the free seat next to you, and all you could smell was mint. You could have drowned in it.

You tried to gather the courage to say something without repeating the embarrassment of yesterday, but he beat you to it,

“What are we talking about?” he asked you, crystal eyes on yours.

“Ben wanted to open the door and see if the fog was poisonous, but then he decided he didn’t really wanna do it anymore,” you answered.

“Hi, Helen!” Ben called from the window, where his face was still pressed against the glass.

Helen smiled gently in his direction before quirking an eyebrow at you in confusion. You knew his gaze and shrugged, the two of you silently understanding that, where Ben was concerned, it was better not to question it.

“Finally!” he exclaimed from the window, pointing upward and turning to face you all with a huge grin on his face, sharp pointer teeth poking out slightly longer than the others, “You can still see them!”

“The stars?” Brian asked him, and he nodded excitedly. You remembered Brian saying something about Ben loving the stars. You guessed he wasn’t being dramatic.

“Look c’mere-” he beckoned you all, and you couldn’t help but share his enthusiasm, following where he was pointing to. Helen came behind you, and you became aware of how gently his body pressed against yours as he tried to see out of the window. You inhaled nervously, the smell of mint filling your lungs again.

This was a test of your goddamn patience. First Jack and now this? Seriously?

Sure enough, a pattern of bright, shining stars pierced through the fog. They seemed to be the only things to do so, as even the sun had succumbed to it earlier.

“Orion…” Ben said, counting out the seven stars that made it up with his pointer finger, “gorgeous, right? 85,000 times brighter than the sun, that’s why we can see it-”

You smiled softly and gazed back at Helen. He met it, his own starry eyes shining, and you had to admit, they were kinder on your eyes than Orion itself. He smiled back. Your stomach did its usual routine flutter.

“Gorgeous…” you hummed out, turning your head quickly to avoid being too obvious that you weren’t exactly talking about the stars. Ben’s grin had not yet faltered. You thought this was, for lack of a better description, adorable. This was the same guy who had smashed up the entire kitchenette yesterday without even touching anything, standing at your kitchen door and waiting for the stars to shine as if he owned them.

“See,” he said after a while, pulling himself away from the window, “We’ve got something the fog doesn’t- it can’t be that powerful,”

And with that, he saluted you all goodnight, leaving nothing but the sound of his footsteps thumping up the stairs as he disappeared.

The four of you shared a look of mutual understanding. But before you could comment on it, the front door slammed.

Someone was in your house.

You widened your eyes and froze on the spot.

Either that or someone had left the mansion.

Brian looked at you all, putting a finger to his lips and grabbing a handgun from his pocket. You widened your eyes, realising that had just been there the entire time, but you did not have it in you right now to question it. You all obeyed and stood to follow him. As far as you remembered, no one was in the living room at this time, and you hadn’t heard anyone come downstairs. This meant that either someone was just incredibly silent with their footsteps, or someone was in your fucking HOUSE.

The hallway was empty, just as it had been all night, and the four of you edged toward the living room doors, trekking lightly to avoid any creaks.

Flashes and thoughts of your nightmares and shadows burned through your mind as you tried to consider the possibilities of who was there because, with the way things were looking, it could have been fucking anyone.

Brian held up three fingers, and then two, and then one. You braced yourself.

He burst through the living room door, gun pointed,

“Drop any weapons and freeze,” he commanded in such a tone that made you wonder if he were a police officer in another life. You hoped not. You respected Brian too much.

The figure in the corner, crouched over and restricted from vision, spun around before returning to its full height.

“Ah, Brian…” your dad said calmly. You wanted to facepalm, “Wonderful to see your application of skill when faced with a threat,”

Brian suddenly looked as though he had no idea how the gun got into his hands in the first place. He lowered it, face paling, looking totally embarrassed,

“Oh! Sir!” he all but squeaked, straightening up and clearing his throat.

The four of you stood there, looking like little kids who had just been caught making potions in the bathroom by your parents. You were MORTIFIED.

But you were also so, extensively happy to see him okay.

“Dad,” you broke the silence, stepping forward and holding yourself back from rushing to him for a hug, “What the hell is going on out there? Are you okay?”

You noted the tar-black dust-like substance coating his usual pristine suit. He did not answer.

“Brian, Jane, Helen- may I ask you all to gather your fellow candidates in the living room immediately please?” he asked them, and they rushed off like loyal guard dogs to do so.

The moment the door shut, you felt his arms around you, and you wasted no time in hugging him back.

Sure, he stood for things you hated. Sure, his morals weren’t always right. But he was your dad, and he was a damn good dad. You loved him.

“I was worried about you… Where were you?” you asked him, deciding that maybe it was time to dance with the truth and tell him about the bangs and shadows and nightmares.

“I should not be here,” he said quickly, “but I had no confirmation that you were safe… I was terrified…” he whispered out, still holding you in his abnormally long arms.

You opened your mouth to say something when the sound of dozens of footsteps rushed down the stairs. He let go of you, and the door swung open to reveal… Jeff?

“What the FUCK is going on out there?!” he snapped, wildly gesturing to the smoke-swarmed windows. He was closer to your dad than necessary, and with his snapping tone, you wouldnt have been shocked if he tried to punch him.

You span around and glared,

“He’s about to explain, Jesus Christ, calm down-” you said, completely clueless as to why HE of all people was so frantic about it.

Your dad, it seemed, had more to say.

“I would advise you, Jeff, to remember who you are addressing,” he snarled in a tone of voice you had only heard about three times in your life, one reserved for meetings with traitors and horrible circumstances. It was a tone that made even you shiver, with its static-like sounds and edge.

Jeff shut his mouth, and you noticed him sit up a little straighter, a glint of fear in his eyes.

Your dad cleared his throat again,

“Candidates, I have come to share some important, albeit confidential information regarding the diversion,” he began,

“The administration and I have concluded that it is indeed due to meddling from the Underworld, and subsequently, so is the red mist that is surrounding us right now,” he told you all in a somewhat grave tone.

Everyone tensed.

This was not what you needed to hear. You had barely even started the trials yet, you hadn’t even formally been interviewed for the nation yet, and he already found a way to attack?

Who knew what he would do once the twelve of you began to sharpen your skills and gain publicity- when he had enough information on him to tear you to pieces?

The nightmares, banging and shadows flooded your mind again. There was no denying it now. He had found you all. He was AFTER you all.

“Sir,” Tim cleared his throat, “Have you come into contact with…him?”

You noticed how he refrained from saying the name.

“We have not,” your dad answered, “However, we have captured and arrested one of his underlings, known by her alias Scarecrow, for trespassing on the nation’s grounds with both a compass and a map of this forest in her possession, suggesting she was looking for this mansion,” he explained, “When we questioned her, she refused to give information,”

“And what exactly is the diversion?” Brian asked

“The west coast of our nation was under siege by the underlings on the day of your very first meeting- thankfully, no citizens were harmed in the attack… the roads, railways and paths however, were damaged almost beyond repair- the Administration is working to reverse the effects as we speak,”

“Do you know when we will be returning?” Tim asked. You threw him a look of distaste.

“Whilst the pathways and roads are still being mended, we are unsure of when you will be returning to your places of residence,” your dad said, “It is no doubt these areas were attacked for a reason, and following our beliefs, as well as the evidence, Zalgo-”

A few of them cringed,

“Has aimed to attack you,”

“What about the f-fog..?” Toby asked

“The fog appeared in the early hours of this morning and has spread throughout the entire nation as well as this forest. However, thus far, there is no reason to believe this mist is dangerous, simply a mark cast by Zalgo himself,”

More cringing,

“-to assert his dominance over us and show that he was there,”

“Why didn’t they kill anyone?” you asked

“This is a question we have yet to answer,” he nodded, “It is extremely uncharacteristic of them, however, we are stationed now to keep our eyes peeled for any misconduct,”

There was a joke about him having no eyes to peel, but you figured it was a bad time.

“I am here to reassure you that the most dangerous part of it all is over. The red mist signifies the end -that he is finished,” he announced, “However, until further notice, it is essential that all of you remain here. Allow me to remind you that one day, one of you will own it,”

This statement seemed to perk most of them up as he continued,

“Your personal belongings will be recovered and delivered to you at the next training session, which will continue as normal… we expect the mist to clear up within the next 24 hours according to the Administration’s damage control staff, now I bid you well-wishes, and I will return when necessary to deliver information to you,” he finished, before nodding and exiting the room into the hallway to leave again.

You couldn't help it. You followed him out,

“Wait, dad?” you called after him,

He turned and must have noticed the weary look in your eyes because he knelt down to your height and rested his hands on your shoulders. You suddenly felt very pathetic, like a little girl crying because her dad had to go to work.

Not like the cold-blooded operator you had to be at all.

“Listen to me my darling…” he hushed, holding onto your hands, “We are both safe, the damage has been done, now we must relax- you’ve got this…”

He traced a talon-like finger over your cheek, and you laughed at how it tickled,

“Now go back in there, and show them who the future is,”

You straightened up and nodded, but not without telling him you loved him. You were never too cool for that.

“I love you too y/n,” he squeezed you again, before departing into the red mist, out of sight for the second time.

Chapter Text

You were bored.

Scratch that, bored was a dishonor of a word to describe how restless and dull you were feeling right now.

Thankfully, most of the red mist had dissipated by morning. Unfortunately, you were not allowed to leave the mansion until you received a signal from the Administration.

Thankfully, you had your first training classes in the morning. Unfortunately, this meant you had to go a full 24 hours doing nothing at all.

You were used to your routine before the trials began and your life became swarmed with eleven other candidates. You were used to waking up, and spending your day rotating through your hobbies, most of which included walking for hours through the forest. And you were used to falling asleep by the fire in the living room, watching TV.

If someone had told you to spend an entire day indoors a month ago, you wouldn’t have broken a sweat.

But with eleven other people living in your house and getting in your way?

No way.

The first day or so had been alright. Most people kept themselves to themselves, and those who you spent time with were better company than not. But as time went on, the more you ached to just… have your own house back. Was that selfish? You didn't know. You weren't used to all of this noise and crowds and people making themselves at home and getting comfy in your chairs.

I mean, don't get me wrong, you liked some of them and all but having them live with you really was a big shift.

You woke up this morning to the pleasure of the September sunlight burning kisses into your skin, and when you looked outside, the skies were blue again. The red mist existed only when you squinted to see it. This exposure to light again had made the entire mansion rejoice, apparently, because the volume of noise coming from downstairs was seeping into your walls and already giving you a headache.

Well hey, at least no one was banging on your wall this morning. That had to be a win.

Consequential of being in the mood to do nothing at all, you spent the first four hours of your day lying in bed. You deserved it. Plus, you were pretty sure every single candidate was in the living room right now, and you just couldn't bring yourself to face them and their disagreements and theories about the fog again.

You were civil, but it didn't mean you actually wanted them here all of the time. Forgive you for enjoying normality.

But by 4 pm, you realized that you were beginning to watch the minutes drag by on the clock, and your stomach was screaming at you in protest to feed it, so you hauled your body up and began the journey into the kitchen.

Thankfully, by this time, most of the others were gone- either to spend time in their own rooms or elsewhere and sitting in the living room was only one figure.

And it was the last one you wanted to see.

There was Tim, holding a newspaper of all things, sitting on your dad’s armchair and scanning through it. He was basically asking to be insulted. Didn't he have a phone like a normal person?

You sighed as though he was greatly inconveniencing you, which he really wasn’t, but you were bored as hell.

“It’s 2014, What are you reading a newspaper for?” you squinted down at him. He barely lifted his head for two seconds, but returned the squint of disgust all the same.

“You think the Nation’s updates can be done through your phone?” he snapped back, “Are you serious?”

Now it was your turn to feel like a tool. You hated the way he did that. Usually, when something happens in the Nation, you get updates from your dad. How were you supposed to know they only sent them through the newspaper? You never exactly had to check one before.

“Well if it’s so important then what’s going on? And where did you get that?” you asked him

“It was outside the door this morning when I opened it,” he said absentmindedly. You stood over him, trying to make out some of the upside-down words on the paper, which he purposefully tilted from your view. You swore you saw him smirk at your annoyance. He didn’t speak again.

“I said what’s going on?”

“Something you’d know about if you read the news,” he now had a shit-eating grin on his face and looked right at you before continuing to read. You wanted to punch him so fucking bad right now, and if he wasn’t twice your size, you would have.

You seethed down at him. He didn’t stop smiling. The two of you held the world record for the most hateful staring contest of all time.

You lasted ten seconds, deciding to give up before you lost.

“Fine,” you lied, shrugging your shoulders and turning on your heel, “Don’t even care anyways, my dad’ll just tell me when he’s back,”

You hated playing that card- the ‘dad’s little princess’ card, but knowing how much he hated it, you decided to play dirty.

You began to walk very slowly to the kitchen door, shooting glances back here and there to see if he was giving in (he hadn’t looked up once). But then, as you began to push open the kitchen door, he cracked,

“Four civilians were murdered last night on the Nation’s West Coast,”

You dropped your hold on the kitchen door, slowly spinning to face him fully.

“Four…?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

To your surprise, he tossed the newspaper on the coffee table for you to read it. You rushed over, pinning some hair behind your ear and scanning through the page,

FIRST SHOT FIRED: UNDERWORLD ATTACK ON THE INNOCENT

The first shot fired…

You thought for a moment, about everything- the forest, the knocking, the threats, the fog, how you had spent your entire life hidden from this type of evil, and now you had been thrown right into the deep end of it. How you had been reassured that the entire thing was precautionary only last week, and how Zalgo should be viewed as nothing but a potential threat at the end. How he had just proved everyone wrong.

What did this mean now? Would there be more meetings about the Underworld? What exactly prompted the attacks? Your dad had been right in saying they would get more reactive as the trials came to the beginning, but did he suspect people to be murdered? Did anyone anticipate all of this? It seemed like last week, Zalgo was nothing but a name to be said in whispers, and this week, he was everywhere, in your walls, in your head, in the Nation, doing all he could to tear it limb from limb.

It was unprecedented and it was terrifying.

“What do you think about it?”

But when you looked up, Tim had gone.

///

The news spread like wildfire. You had told the girls, as soon as you found out, and they shared their varying levels of empathy with the victims.

I mean, they had been raised on murder and gunfire to get where they wanted to be. They had been taught the laws of this land since they could speak, and nowhere in those laws stated that anyone should feel sympathy for murdering those who deserved it. It was written between the lines of torture methods and punishment levels and other endless faults in The Operator’s code of conduct.

So how, now, were they supposed to react when they read the headline?

You were equally as confused. All of a sudden, you were almost being asked to show sympathy, to feel emotion for the deaths of these people. Never in your life had you been urged to do anything of the sort. Why start now? Had the administration decided to suddenly turn over a new leaf?

When one of them murdered an innocent, it was law, but when someone in the Underworld did it, it was treachery.

Where was the line? Was there a line? Was any of this fair?

Sure, Zalgo was the epitome of all evil. You weren't exactly itching for him to come over for a sleepover anytime soon, but you had to admit there were double standards going on here. You weren’t gonna say it- especially not while training directly under the admin- but you definitely thought it.

If anyone in the mansion had any sympathy for the murdered, they didn’t show it.

But they did show a newfound sense of panic.

“First shot fired?” Clockwork tossed the thought back and forth in her head, “Doesn’t that make you think the Admin are gonna shoot back?”

You hadn’t read it that way, but it was undeniable that she had a point. Covering the story as being ‘the first shot fired’ only insinuated that more was to come, potentially from your side in response to theirs.

“If this tells us anything, it’s that some sorta war’s about to break out,” Jane sighed, running a hand through her flawless, waist-length black hair, “Anything the Operator or Admin do now is justified as a defense against our land,”

“What a dumbass move on Zalgo’s part- we have way more defenses-” Clockwork said, crossing her arms and leaning back on the kitchen counter. You had to agree- why on earth would he attack civilians now of all times? It was a stupid move no matter which way you looked at it.

A squawking caught your attention. When you turned to face the noise, you saw three identical black crows, perched on the fence, staring back at you.

“They’ve been there all day-” Nina yawned, “Brian tried to pelt them down earlier, but they just keep coming back…”

You thought of the crows in the forest. There was no doubt, by omen or by spy, that this was another sign of him.

///

It was five thirty, and your boredom had shifted into a manic sense of urgency to find out whatever you could about the Underworld.

With the exponential rise in sightings and signs, your fear of being attacked had propelled you into a thirst for knowledge more than anything had before- so you set off for the library, on the third floor of the mansion. It was a large, dusty old room, filled head to toe with books of every caliber. You had only come in here a few times when you were little, but the older you got, the less you felt the need to read in a corner of the library when you could just as easily do it in your room.

You planned to find some books on the Nation and The Underworld, in an attempt to discover more about the history that surrounded it.

Unfortunately, you and Tim had very similar ideals.

“Y/N I swear to God if you don't shut the fuck up,” he hissed at you from where he was, leaning back on his chair with a pen fiddling between two fingers. You had busied yourself with trying to reach one of the books on the top shelf and had accidentally knocked a few crashing onto the floor in the process. Hearing his voice made you jump out of your skin,

“Jesus fucking CHRIST when did you get here?!” you squealed, glaring daggers at him as the book finally fell into your hand. He seemed to get some undeserving pleasure from the fact he had scared you,

“Keep your voice down, it’s a library,” he retorted, before flicking his gaze back down to one of the fourteen books he had on his desk.

You could have argued, but you figured he would win this round, so you kept your mouth shut and marched back to one of the other desks to read The Nation’s Operations, which was one of the most profound history books ever documented about the city.

You found that after fifteen minutes, working in the same room as Tim was impossible. Every two seconds he was doing something else- flicking his lighter on and off, slamming a book shut, huffing at it, tapping his fingers on the desk. You name something annoying, he was doing it.

But it would be a cold day in hell before you let him drive you out of your own library.

You tried to focus again, but all of that, plus your steering thoughts, were making it harder and harder. Your mind had begun to develop a nasty habit of thinking about Jack whenever it was bored, and there was nothing you could do to tone it down.

The image of him after the Standard Ability Assessment- drenched in sweat, licking his own wounds- had stitched its way into your mind and refused to come undone, playing on repeat like a record of all of your favorite songs.

You tried not to entertain it at first, but come on, you were 20, and you were pretty sure you weren’t asexual. Seeing a guy looking like that and not at least entertaining a few thoughts about him would be abysmal.

Like how it would feel if, instead of simply shutting the cupboard door last night, he had spun you around, pinning you up against the countertop with that muscular chest, fanged-smirk crossing his face like sizing you up for prey.

And how it would feel- his hot tongue trailing up and down your exposed neck… huge, veiny hands holding your waist, squeezing your flesh, every touch leaving you dripping wet for him.

How it would feel to hear him whisper in your ear how bad he knew you wanted him right now, how he would bask in the way you whimpered for him, before-

“Are you even listening to me?”

You snapped your head up, cheeks flushed with your thoughts.

“Of course, you aren’t,” he clicked his tongue in annoyance,

“What do you want, Tim?” you glared back up at him. Screw him for breaking that daydream.

“I’m asking you why you’re even here?”

You were suddenly in the mood to be a cocky bastard about it,

“Well in case you hadn’t heard, four people were killed last night and I don’t wanna be the fifth,” you said matter-of-factly,

“Well, unlike you, I actually want to put a stop to the murders instead of just giving a fuck about my own  life,”

“Well I, unlike you,” you snapped, “Didn’t ask, so leave me the fuck alone,”

And with that, you shut your book and stormed out of the library. 

Chapter Text

You decided to take a lap around the mansion, because it was 6 p.m., and you were filled with the energy from dinner and the eagerness for something- anything exciting to get the day in quicker.

You knew, deep down, that 'something exciting' meant Jack. This was who you were now. A girl who daydreamed about some guy and then walked around, hoping he'd magically appear and sweep her off her feet.

His room was on the top floor. You had got this information from a chat with Liu, who accidentally slipped in that they had been neighbors. You reached the floor with the giddiness of a thirteen-year-old girl walking past the classroom of a teacher she had a crush on, and you didn’t even care.

A girl had to have fun, what about it?

But your fun was short-lived, because when you reached Jack’s room, the only sound that could be heard was that of running water, which meant he was showering right now. That sucked, even though it gave you something nice to fantasize about.

You turned to head back downstairs, opting to spend your time making coffee and hunting down the girls for a chat before bed instead.

But something- someone- made you freeze.

A gentle hum came from the third doorway next to Jack and Lius, the door itself laying wide open.

In another life, you were the cat that curiosity never got to kill.

You just wanted to see who was in there. Who was humming, and what were they doing?

You tiptoed down the carpeted hallway, aiming to glance into the room, see who it was, and bolt away before they could notice you were there.

As you crept closer, the humming voice began to fall into place in your head, and familiar, unwanted butterflies rose in your chest.

Oh fuck.

You were still trying to convince yourself out of that crush on Helen, but when he sounded like a fucking angel humming like that to himself, you found yourself being totally pulled under. This was a joke.

But you couldn't help but still glance in, for your own demise if anything.

And, just as you expected, the sight of him all together could have taken you down.

With his back to you, Helen was wearing a white button-up shirt, small paint splatters in reds and blues and greens staining it. A paintbrush in his left hand, a palette in his right, he was humming the softest melody you had ever heard, drawing you to him like a sailor to a siren.

In front of him perched a canvas, displaying the most beautiful masterpiece you had ever seen.

Your jaw dropped. It was the forest at sunset, the red mist surrounding it, just like it had last night. Not one detail was missed- the glimmer of the mansion, the footfalls of leaves- but it was the way he had drawn the sky that really annihilated you. Rather than how it had succumbed to the fog in real life, Helen had painted the sun as this burning, gleaming ball of fire, piercing through any shadow of it that remained. Where yesterday had been drenched in darkness, the painting was glimmering with hues of fiery yellows and oranges, lighting up the canvas.

He had yet to notice you, and only when he stopped humming did you clear your throat.

“Helen… that’s beautiful…” You basically choked out, trying to contain your awe.

He span around as though whiplashed, smudges of paint on his burning red cheeks, crystal blue eyes widening in shock as he realized you had been standing there, and then softening like the waves when he had realized what you said.

“...you like it?” he asked, almost fighting himself for the words to say.

“I love it…”

You took this time to gaze at how he had made the room his own- easels and paint pots and canvases lying in clusters, untouched, on the floor.

He was still looking at you, paintbrush in mid-air.

Your gaze dropped, cheeks heating up at how dull the painting looked in comparison to his eyes,

“What is it…?” you asked gently, “I’m sorry for intruding, I… I saw the colors and-”

Saw the colors? Were you TEN YEarS oLD?

“NO!” he raised his free hand in front of him, shaking his head, “No I’m just… I’m sorry I took your stuff without asking…”

Your stuff?

You tilted your head, and then it dawned on you where exactly he got all of this.

///

“DAD LOOK!” you held up your latest masterpiece- a painting of you and he decked out in your finest of clothing, him in his suit and you in your favorite polka dot dress, standing in the forest, holding hands.

“OH and would you look at that?!” he had cooed, scooping you up with the picture in your hand and marching you right to the stairway to pin it up next to the official fancy photographs and paintings on the walls, “I’ll have to get you lots more paint so you can do more, won’t I?”

And he did. He had bought you canvases and paints, easels and clays in bulk, and oyu spent the majority of your free time drawing for him, creating for him- masterpieces and sculptures that hung on the gallery walls and oversaw important meetings from the shelves in his office.

but over the years, you had lost your spark for it among other things. The old paintings and sculptures still stood, however, and your dad anointed them the highest of praises to this day.

The paints and other things, however, had lain untouched in the closet on the top floor ever since.

///

Seeing them get put to use made your heart swell.

“Oh!” you shook your head, “Don’t worry! I don’t paint anymore, honestly, it’s all yours,”

You were coming to terms with the fact that something you owned could be used to create something so beautiful.

He lit up, grateful you had not branded him a thief and made him the enemy he was supposed to be, “You sure…?”

Letting another candidate use your things wasn’t very Operator-like of you, y/n, a voice silently reprimanded in your head, but you bat it off.

You nodded, “It’d be a crime to deny you them with that talent,”

You noticed his cheeks turn red again, and you bit back a grin, suddenly possessed with the desire to make this conversation last forever, but then cursed with the knowledge that you were way too awkward for that,

“I was uh- I was making some coffee if you wanted any?”

Your heart was thumping in your chest. Since when was coffee such an ordeal?

And to your absolute joy, he accepted.

And then there you were, scuttling down the stairs on a synthetic sugar-high caused by nothing but a painting and a cup of coffee.

When you reached it, the kitchen was mostly empty, save for Toby, four mugs around him, and a hardback book he was pouring over at the table. You had never seen him so focused. He was muttering some of the words under his breath, almost as though trying to sound them out as he read them.

He looked as though he did not want to be bothered, and when you offered him coffee, he fervently shook his head without looking up.

You kept quiet, but when you walked past the oven to grab a spoon, something caught your eye.

There, in a sequence too patterned not to be morse code, blinked a red light.

You had lived in this house ever since you could walk. Not once have you seen a red light on the oven.

The smart part of you knew immediately what was going on. The skeptical part of you flicked off the switch at the wall and turned some of the dials, and still it continued to flash.

Part of you knew immediately what was going on. The majority of you, however, convinced yourself you were being silly and forced you to ignore it. You smacked the buttons a few times, turning it off at the switch- yet it continued to flash.

There was no denying it was him again, fucking with you guys just like he had been all week.

Fortunately, the happy part of you that was still rushing with the memory of Helen Otis and his beautiful painting and everything that had just happened between the two of you, decided that it would eventually go away or someone else would have to deal with it. The crows on the garden fence stared down at you, and you made a point not to look back.

Helen accepted the coffee, and the two of you talked- him leaning on his bedroom door, tall, slender body casting a shadow over yours. You discussed the murders and the diversion and the mist, and you swore he had another hidden talent for making even your least favorite topics sound interesting.

“You have your first meeting tomorrow with Laughing Jack, don’t you?” he asked, dancing his fingers against the mug in his hand. You nodded,

“Honestly, I never know how to take him,” you admit with a laugh, “I feel like he has a hidden side he isn't showing us, no one can be that joyful all the time,”

Helen laughed a melodic laugh, and nodded, “He scares the shit out of me,”

You talked a little more before he retreated back into his room to wash the paint from his face, and you took the two cups back into the kitchen.

Toby was still there, hunched over his book albeit more relaxed than earlier.

“Whatcha doin'?” you asked him, sitting up on the countertop as he sent a wave in your direction.

“Tr-ying to fuck-ing read…” he groaned out, using the heel of his palms to rub into his eyes. You glanced at the book on the table and realized it was a battered copy of a novel.

“Brian says we…we’ll have to re-ead up on a lo-lot for class…” he said, leaning back on his chair and roughly discarding the book, shoving it a distance away from him with the look of utter disgust on his face, “An…and I can’t fuck-king read-”

“Really?” you asked him. It wasn’t judgemental, you were just surprised.

“Nope-” he shook his head, “didn-n’t go to sc-school, my attendance was shit so I just ga-gave up,” he shrugged, twitching as he did, “I go-got the basics, and I’m sma-rt, just can’t make out the da-mn words,” he huffed again, itching his neck in frustration.

You couldn't imagine how that felt-  being intelligent yet not having the skill to apply it, especially when you had to. From the few things you knew about Toby, you gathered that he had come from a disadvantaged background and lived a disadvantaged life, but he wore it on his chest without shame or inferiority. He commanded the respect those around him did not think him deserving of.

You had two options, and you and your big heart knew exactly which one you were choosing.

You could either leave him be and let him figure it out for himself in time for the assessments, which really weren’t that far away, or, you could help him.

When you thought about it, helping him would only lead to your disadvantage, which would, in turn, help you to lose the competition. So really, it was a win-win all around.

You were the worst candidate ever.

“I mean, I could help you… if you want,” you offered in a tone that you begged him not to find condescending, “like, if you needed to pronounce the words and stuff, or write them or whatever- only if you want-” you added quickly, pretending to find a tea stain on the countertop the most interesting thing right now.

He looked at you for a while, and you were debating whether he was getting ready to knock you out or hug you.

And then, he broke into a grin, the bandaid on his cheek crinkling with the movement of his mouth,

“You would?!” he asked, sitting up straight.

You nodded, “Sure, it’s only fair we’re all at the same advantage for the trials,”

He couldn't make it this far only to miss out on the trials because he had been failed by the system. Not if you had anything to do with it.

“Y/N,” he began, shaking his head and still smiling up to you, “You are an an-gel… when I’m the Op-erator, I swear I-i’ll spare you,” he joked, and you couldn't help but laugh.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was cheating, in technical terms. He was your opponent. You were supposed to prey on these weaknesses and scale him to the top, not grab his hand and pull him up there with you.

But then again, it’s not like you actually wanted to win this thing.

Plus, this was the same system that had only begun to show sympathy for the dead this morning. You were pretty sure a little bit of cheating could be excused. 

Chapter Text

You woke up early the next morning to a knock on your door and the smell of burnt toast filling the air.

“Ben made us all breakfast,” Clockwork said, her tone just as confused as you were. She was leaning on the doorframe, wearing the sweatpants you had let her borrow on your first night here, and her hair was slightly damp. She watched as you scrambled to put socks on,

“He said something about a team meeting before classes start tomorrow? Whatever the fuck that means-” she snorted, shutting the door behind you both as you joined her in the hallway.

You followed her downstairs, curious as ever but twice as intrigued.

There, in the dining room, lay the same white cloth that had been donned on the ceremonial dinner. The candlesticks lay unlit, and twelve empty plates were set in front of each of the chairs. You couldn't help but take this time to notice the changes over the weeks.

You thought about the first dinner, and how everyone had seemed so uptight and solemn: sitting straight-backed in their seats, engaging in nothing but quiet, polite conversation if at all.

“Ben this toast is burnt you dickhead-” Jack huffed, scooting past you to take his place at the table. You noted his hands briefly resting on your hips to move you slightly and felt your breath hitch. His fingertips were warm, and they left an almost burning sensation on your skin. You immediately sat down and tried not to think about it too much at nine in the morning.

“HUH?” Ben called from the oven, where he was standing trying his hardest to fry an entire pack of bacon. You let your eyes fall to the plate at the center of the table, where an entire loaf of bread had been toasted and lay in a huge stack of at least 30. Next to it sat a tub of butter, Nutella, marmalade, and jam, all of them opened and now at least half-empty.

“I-if you cover it comple-tely, you can’t even really t-aste the burning-” Toby called with his mouth full of toast.

“Yeah, sure-” Clockwork rolled her eyes, knocking her own charcoal slice of toast off the table, where it created an effect likewise to that of a hammer banging against it.

Ben decided that if he did hear what they were saying about his toast, no he didn’t, and instead redirected his attention to pouring tea into twelve mugs.

Everyone had come down now, and the kitchen was lively and animated with the loud, now comfortable voices of its inhabitants. Most of them were in their pajamas, either sat up on the countertop or down at the table. It seemed that the communal breakfast had heightened the general mood. Even Jeff had shoved his way through the crowd to grab his own cup of tea.

Sure, he stalked back upstairs without even looking anyone in the eye, but it’s the participation that counts, right?

Soon, when all the mugs had been claimed and the overall excitement of the morning had cooled down, Ben took his place, standing at the foot of the table, wearing a pair of legend of Zelda pyjamas and a dopey grin on his face,

“I bet you’re all wondering why I called you here today-” he grinned mischievously, as though he were a businessman about to propose the best idea he ever had to his colleagues.

“Don’t care, thanks for the tea though-” Clockwork called, earning herself a few laughs. Ben ignored her.

“I figured,” he began, “That it was time for us to stop acting like strangers and start doing things together, like eating-”

You noticed the overall tone of the room shift. Suddenly, no one looked as enthusiastic about the whole thing.

“I know what you’re thinking- it’s stupid to do this during the trials when we’re competing against each other-” Ben held his hands in front of him defensively, “But hear me out, think about it- we’re all gonna be working together for the next two years, some of us maybe even forever. I don’t know about you, but I wanna get to know and LIKE my board of administration before I have to choose them,”

You were reminded of the conversation you and the girls had on the first night there when Jane had made practically the same point. You watched her nod her head in understanding.

Ben continued,

“What’s the point of treating each other like enemies for the sake of the competition? Classes start today, we’ll be living together, training together- and with the recent attacks from the big man downstairs, potentially even dying together-” he shrugged matter-of-factly, sipping his orange juice.

“Please do not refer to Zalgo as the big man downstairs.” Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. You stifled a laugh.

“I see what you’re saying,” Liu spoke up, “but in the end, only one of us can win this thing-”

"And that's okay!" Ben interjected, "What if- hear me out- what if the rest of us can just be happy for the winner? We don't have to kill each other over it! Plus, think about this- the Nation's influence, plus the general nature of the competition- will try and pit us against each other anyway. With all these attacks recently, I think it's best if we unite, at least for now- we're the only ones who know what it's like to be a candidate in The Operator Trials! No one else has done this before! If we go against each other, we'll never have support-"

"We're spending 24/7 together, too," he continued, gesturing around the room, "how can you tell me we AREN'T bonding right now? We are literally the future! The least we can do is walk into it together-"

You fully agreed. A few nods and supportive comments filled the air, and Ben grinned wider.

But then, like a hot blade on skin, came a deep, flat voice,

“Ben,” Tim sighed, crossing his arms over his chest from where he stood in the doorway. He was the only other one not sitting down, “You do realize this is a competition- we aren’t a team. Sure, maybe in the future we’ll be colleagues, but that’s it. We aren’t in the middle of pulling off some crazy heist together- we aren’t on the same team, we don’t have a common enemy. We’re literally going against each other- we only happened to be living together because of a diversion,”

He was speaking to Ben like he was ten years old, but Ben heard every single word and didn't flinch once.

Tim spoke again,

“I came here for business, I’ve trained my entire life not to lose my logic at the last minute, and if any of you think differently, you’re setting yourself up for failure. Thanks for the breakfast Ben, but what you’re doing right now is useless,”

And on that note, he turned and left.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, and you suddenly had the urge to check if the oven was still blinking from last night.

“I think,” Brian broke the silence, “I think it is important to prioritize our safety over the trials at the minute…. With the whole Underground thing happening, it’s important to at least be civil with each other- the last thing we want is someone dying,” he said, before nodding to Ben and heading in the same direction as Tim, likely to try and talk him round.

You wouldn’t complain if Tim dropped out altogether and vanished off the face of the earth, but whatever.

You noted that Ben still looked a little dejected, by the way he was shifting on his feet and staring around the room.

“Ben’s right,” you spoke up, “We’re all just lying to ourselves by pretending we aren’t becoming comfortable with each other-” you gestured around to how most of them were in pajamas and none of them were sitting properly in their seats, “I mean come on, what’s the harm in friendship? So long as we can still agree on giving it our all when the trials come, I think we’ll be fine,”

You lied through your teeth with that last bit, but it was coated with the truth.

“Exactly,” Toby agreed, sitting up straighter and taking his hands from his hair to lean forward, “It's not like we’re gonna be si-nging kumbaya round a campfire-”

“Yeah!” Nina nodded, “Thanks Ben-”

A chorus of small thank you’s was heard, and Ben suddenly came to life again with an understanding and silently grateful nod.

It was nice, to sit around a table and have breakfast with people. I mean sure, they weren’t exactly your be-all-and-end-all, but it was nice to have a little bit of camaraderie without feeling as though you’d rather die than admit it’s existence.

Yeah. This was good.

//

The first classes with the Administration began at 1:30 pm.

But before that, you had to sit through a lecture about the underground for what seemed to be the eighty-ninth day in a row.

“This is  code red emergency,” Candypop had said, his voice laced with determination and importance, “As you know, we were not prepared to tackle him so soon, but any belief that you have that tells you he is not to be considered an emergency must be discarded immediately,”

You wondered how Candypop’s mood could change so fast. Sometimes, he was practically bouncing off the walls, grinning and baring his teeth for adventure, danger, and everything in between. Other times, he spoke with an air that carried a sense of grand importance, like a university lecturer.

“He is out there, and he is aiming to track you down,” he finished, but honestly, it was nothing new.

Each of your classes was 45 minutes long and fulfilled a quota of lessons that taught you combat, defense, and logic.

The first took place in a computer suite, which was filled with tons of the newest technology- things you never even knew existed: spyware, hologram projectors, AI, drones, tracker devices- all laid out on shiny white tables.

However, since Kagekao was suffering from what he described as a “hell-inducing hangover”, you only went through the basics, which was logging into each of the devices and remembering your username and passwords.

Lessons with Jason took place in a room that resembled a hospital, with makeshift beds and tables with syringes, needles, scalpels, and different medical equipment you had never seen before. He explained that some of your lessons would take place here, and others in the lecture hall reserved for logistics lessons upstairs.

Today, you focused on taking each other’s heartbeats and pulses. You were paired with Clockwork, which involved the two of you cackling at just about everything that came out of one another’s mouth- whether it was the way your heart rate spiked up tenfold when you were looking at Jack or the way she couldn’t have anything touch her skin without shrieking and jerking her limbs toward you because of how sensitive it was.

“Are you sure it’s not THAT obvious?!” she grinned, turning your body toward Jack, who was pressing his own monitor to Ben’s chest. Immediately, your heart rate went from 79 to 102 in three seconds flat. You were glad she didn't suspect anything about Helen.

To be fair, you didn't know where you stood with Helen. sure, he was beautiful, but you figured that was about it. You respected him a lot, and he was a good friend, you didn't wanna throw that away, so you were in the process of forcing the feelings to erase themselves, whilst using Jack as your scapegoat.

“Shut the fuck UP-” you tried and failed to squirm from her strong hold on you, immediately retaliating by pressing your cold stethoscope to her torso and watching with joy as she squirmed away from you, the two of you bursting out laughing again.

Then, you had defense training with Laughing Jack.

“I’ll be pairing you up randomly,” he called out, the familiar ear-to-ear grin on his face as he began calling out names. You were zoned out, focusing on the floorboards in front of you, when you heard your own.

“Y/N can go with Jack,” he stated, and before you could even process what was going on, you could see him making his way toward you.

Pair up with Jack? In a defense class? Where touching each other was inevitable?

Someone was answering your prayers.

“SO, the two of you are gonna take it in turns to defend an attack from the other one-” he read off a sheet, looking up, “Try not to kill each other- though I would LOVE the drama of it,” he crooned. You thought he was joking, but you couldn’t be too sure.

The session began, and already Jack was tilting his head down at you, his empty eyes baring into yours with a gaze more impenetrable than anything a human could ever come up with. You knew, by the relaxed demeanor, and by the way he was failing to fight a smirk, that you were on the same page.

“You ready, y/n?” he asked you.

Your entire body began to pulse with adrenaline, and you were silently begging your hands to stop shaking with anticipation.

“You want me to go first?” you asked, trying to figure out a way to touch him without succumbing to him completely.

“Don’t worry, I can take you-” his teasing tone was undeniable.

You looked at him the same way you would look at a crashing waterfall from the view of a ship, breathing deeply, not knowing if you were about to sink or soar.

He was six foot tall at least and was built like a damn machine. He would be able to pin you down in seconds.

You weren’t complaining. Having Jack pin you down was currently harboring the number one spot on your bucket list.

Still staring, you looked for weaknesses, and after a few moments noticed an area of skin left exposed on his lower torso.

You ran over the plan, and then ran at him, hands aiming for his chest to throw him off. It worked. He appeased. His arms moved, trying to block your hit, but you were much too fast and skillful. Your fingertips gripped his waist whilst it lay exposed. He stumbled slightly.

And then you, like the absolute idiot you are, looked up.

He was breathtaking. And you lost all your composure.

For the brief millisecond it took for you to lose balance, he had already taken control, grabbing both of your wrists in one of his and gripping them together tightly.

And then he used his leg to knock you off your feet.

It all happened so fast that you couldn’t stay standing on the ground, instead accepting your fate and scrunching up your face to await the freefall.

But it never came.

Because he had caught you.

One arm behind your waist, the other still clasping round your wrists- you were suspended in a dipped position in his arms, and he was holding you like a vampire about to take his first bite.

“Try not to fall for me while you’re at it-” he murmured so only you could hear, voice barely above a whisper and breath hot on your lips.

Oh my fucking GOD, what was he DOING?!

“You…” your cheeks were burning, eyes frantically flying from his sockets to his parted lips and back and forth, “You pushed me…”

“But you still fell-”

He was leaning closer now. You could practically taste his words. Your head was spinning like it never had before.

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

But then, a voice cleared from behind you.

“Y/N and Jack, show us a demonstration then, since you seem to be finished-” Laughing Jack practically snarled, all resemblance of the clown-persona gone. If Clockwork hadn’t wolf-whistled over at you both, you might have been terrified.

You knew then when class dismissed and Jack raised his eyebrows in your direction with another one of those smirks, that it was safe to say something was going on between you two.

You spent the majority of Andromeda’s class on etiquette daydreaming about what had just happened. The way he held you, the glimmer of suggestion in his remarks afterward, the way you felt electrified just by his touch.

She went on about the importance of winning over the media and the people of the nation, and how becoming the nation’s favourite would result in added benefits within the trials.

All you could think about was the importance of getting Jack alone before you burst.

You eventually resurfaced to witness the argument going on between Jeff and her, which was something that seemed to be recurring these days.

“Don’t care about people’s opinions of me-” Jeff was saying, face straight and eyes tired.

“You’ll care when they leave you for dead in there,”

“Says who?”

“Says ME, I’m teaching you,”

“Clearly not very well,”

Andromeda was running her hands through her wavy, blonde hair. You admired how normal she looked- with her Victoria’s Secret tote bag at the foot of her desk and Starbucks cup on top of it. She looked like the poster girl for Ugg boots and Hollister, yet here she was arguing with a trained killer on how to present himself to the public.

“Oh my god, stop being so annoying-” she shot to him, attitude like a bitchy cheerleader in a high school movie. You could have laughed at how unlikely the situation was.

“How about this-” he cleared his throat, “no-”

He was clearly getting a kick out of annoying her, but she wasn’t biting.

“Whatever, fail then- not like I’m rooting for you anyway-” she scoffed, gracefully ignoring him for the rest of her lesson.

The final class of the day was combat, and just like defense, it was held in the gymnasium.

You were split off into two teams, red vs. blue, where each member went head to head with someone in the opposing team to decide the winners, who got free candy.

Candypop was currently acting as though the entire thing was the wrestling Olympics, and his commentary was just as entertaining as you would think. Each match caused uproars in cheers and screams and finished with clasped handshakes and pats on the backs to both winners and losers.

You couldn't help but remember this morning, and how everyone had just about agreed to be civil with each other.

“MAKE SOME NOISE FOR OUR FINAL MATCH OF THE DAY,” Candypop boomed into his megaphone, “Y/N AND TIM!!!!!”

Ben and Toby led a chorus of loud ‘OOOOOO’s’,

“KICK HIS ASS Y/N!!” Toby called and you grinned with a laugh in his direction.

A free punch at Tim? This was your idea of a good time.

You stepped forward onto the mat and he followed suit, cracking his knuckles with slanted brown eyes and an almost violent smirk on his face,

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you,” he cooed almost in the most condescending tone you had ever heard. You clenched your fists as the fight was called.

Immediately, you ran at him and threw a low blow right at his torso. You knew you packed a strong punch. Judging by the way he inhaled and winced, he knew it too.

You swung again, but before you could so much as graze the fabric of his grey t-shirt, something happened.

You barely had time to register it. All you knew was that one moment you were standing, and the next, your arms were pinned on either side of your head, and his thighs were pinning your torso down on the mat. You could hear his breathing, heavy and triumphant, and you pretended you weren’t winded.

Then, he leaned down. The smell of pine and lingering cigarette smoke clung to his lips. His body was pressed against yours, and you were hyper-aware of it.

“Nice try, princess,” he grinned. You noticed the subtle stubble on the sides of his face, and you glared at him the entire time he stood up.

“ANNNDDDDD THE RED TEAM TAKE THE CAKE!!!” Candypop clapped his hands.

Any time for dejection was replaced by pats on your back and laughter from your teammates.

“Fuck the red team anyways,” Brian grinned at you, and you couldn't help but return it.

///

“Ya know, you can really feel the hatred between you guys,” Nina grinned, leaning forward to talk to you. You were just about to get off the coach, and the four of you had spent the entire ride home gossiping, which in your opinion, was time very well spent,

“Never seen him look so happy than he did when he was taking you down,” Clockwork added. You rolled your eyes and stuck the cola-flavored lollipop Laughing Jack had given you after your meeting with him into your mouth. He had offered you a few pointers- “try not to get distracted by opponents” and a few compliments- and had sent you out with a ruffle to your hair and a lollipop.

You got into the mansion, and the atmosphere felt warmer than usual. Whether be by the shared annoyance that Kagekao had shown up hungover, the camaraderie formed in both combat and defense classes, the teamwork involved in first aid class, or the mutual enjoyment of seeing Jeff and Andromeda argue- you didn’t know, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

Everyone spoke in a group rather than quietly one-to-one. Ben had tossed Toby a t-shirt from atop the balcony. It had landed on Liu’s head, and the three of them were roaring with laughter about it.

Something in the air was calmer, like a crack in the ice had formed and thawed enough to let some sunlight in.

You were just getting ready to shower before bed, when a shrill voice called from the kitchen, casting the room into silent concern.

Helen stood in front of you the second you all heard it.

It was Nina.

“Guys what the FUCK is going on in here?!”

In one group, you followed her voice into the kitchen. You already had a sinking feeling of what was happening.

And sure enough, you were right.

Just like last night, there, on the oven, flashed sharp hues of red in undeniable Morse code, only this time, it was beeping. 

Chapter Text

Last month, if someone had told you you would be spending your night cowering in the face of your oven with eleven other trained killers, you would have laughed in their face.

Yet here you were, cowering.

“It’s definitely morse code,” Brian was saying, his face concentrated as he twisted the knobs on the oven.

“Well what’s it read?” Clockwork asked him, standing next to him and squinting down at the flashing lights like she had a chance of understanding it herself.

Morse code was actually one of the few things you were NOT trained in, so you were pretty much useless here. Brian, it seemed, was the only one actually capable of making it out.

The twelve of you stood in a semi-circle and watched it beep, trying to keep as silent as possible to let Brian focus, but he only appeared more confused.

“It’s just reading ‘WRONG’, but I don’t get it?” he stood back to face you all, eyebrows furrowed and mouth twitching downward, “Y/N, does the oven sometimes read things in morse code?”

You shook your head, “No, and it’s never read the word ‘wrong’ either,”

The oven continued to flash, almost mocking the twelve of you.

“I don’t get why he doesn’t just kill us and get it over with,” Jeff snapped down to it, “What the fuck is the point in all the subliminal messaging and shit?!”

He was right, you had to give him it. Now that Zalgo had been deemed a major threat, you were expecting him to actually, you know, threaten you with something more than knocks on the wall and flashing ovens. Either he was a master in psychological manipulation, or he really just wasn’t all that great.

You knew it was definitely the first, but still. Why DIDN’T he just hurt one of you?

It was weird.

“What do we do?” Liu broke the silence.

“We tell the admin,” Jack nodded his head,

“But what if it isn’t even Zalgo, and we’re being paranoid?”

“Better paranoid than under attack by people we can’t face alone,” Jack shrugged,  “you all stay here,”

He slipped past you and disappeared into the living room. You tried not to make it obvious that you were watching him, but ever since you had come back to the mansion, his gaze on you hadn’t ceased up once. Shoot you for giving him the same energy.

Amicable silence filled the kitchen as you watched the oven continue to flicker.

A sigh rang out from Jack’s direction. He had been dialling the main phone, which was an old, red 50’s style telephone topped off with a dial system and tons of wires. This was the only phone which could be used to contacting Admin, as it was completely untraceable.

Jack appeared at the door of the kitchen again, leaning against it with a disappointed look on his face,

“Jason said he’ll come over in the morning to look at it, it’s most likely a fault in their communication systems, considering how little it makes sense. He said we need to ignore it for now since we’re safe,”

Something about it didn’t sit right with you. A fault in what communication systems? Why would they be communicating the word ‘wrong’ to each other? Safe for how long?”

The mood seemed to be mutual throughout the mansion, because all of you were gazing at each other with unease. It seemed as if no one wanted to be the first to admit their paranoia.

“Well!” Ben broke the silence with a clap of his hands, heading toward the back door. “No point sitting up all night worrying about an OVEN, is there candidates?” he asked in a fake military tone, clearly trying to disperse of the uncomfortable mood created.

It seemed everyone was happy enough to play along and pretend they weren’t still scared or confused about the whole thing, you included. It was almost midnight, you didn’t have the time for more worrying.

You remained in the kitchen while everyone disappeared to do their own thing, getting ready to head upstairs and pray noone would knock on your walls again tonight.

Minutes passed before a whistle called to you.

It was Ben, sitting on the concrete step at the back garden and leaning halfway into the kitchen, the light above him illuminating his face. He beckoned you over and shuffled across to let you sit next to him. You couldn’t help but take him up on his invite.

The words left his mouth before you even sat down, and you suddenly wished you had ignored him and ran as far away as possible.

“So you and Jack, huh?”

His tone was teasing, smirk on his face like he had just caught you doing something you shouldn’t, and fuck it if you couldn’t fight your smile. Of COURSE he knew.

“No idea what you’re talking about…” you feigned ignorance.

“You and Jack are literally seconds away from going at it like two animals-”

“Ben!”

He burst into a cackle, hands in the air in defence, “COME OFF IT Y/N, you CAN’T think you’re good at hiding it?”

You thought you were very good at hiding it.

He looked at your dumbfounded reaction and shook his head, still laughing, “Well please, for MY sanity, hurry up- I dunno how much longer I can take listening to him go on about your eyes or your thighs or your ass and how much he wants to-”

“HE WHAT?!"

You had turned scarlet, mouth agape and wishing, honestly, that you were dead, because what the fuck? Sure, okay, everyone knew Ben and Jack were close, but you didn’t think they were THIS close? Like, talking about sex close??? Talking about YOU close???

“Be for real Y/N,” Ben leant on his palm, “You’re tellin’ me you spent your entire life being trained by THE OPERATOR, and you can’t even notice when Jack of all people has been staring at you?”

Okay, he had a point.

Truth be told, you had noticed it. You were a natural observer to things the majority of the world ignored. You could probably walk out onto the street and get a detective job in the highest ranking company in the Nation… but that didn’t mean you were ready to admit it.

“Keep this on the DL or i’ll take back what I said about being friends earlier,” he joked, “But seriously, he’s about to tear himself apart from holding back from you,”

Having the sex talk with Ben definitely wasn’t on your to-do list for tonight.

You decided to follow his gaze up to the stars, trying so desperately to switch the topic.

“Is that Orion again?” you muttered, and he let out a booming laugh,

“Not even close,” he lapped you on the back, “Now stop changing the conversation and go and give the man what he needs, for our friendship AND for his balls,”

“Ben don’t be GROSS!” you shoved him with a laugh. Suddenly, the two of you were pushing each other back and forth, your laughter filling the cool autumn air.

When it died down, you turned back to him, face sore with smiling yet serious all the same,

“You really think I should?”

“I literally don’t know how more obvious I can be here Y/N,” he stood up, reaching out and grabbing your hands to tug you up with him. His felt like two ice blocks, and you almost pulled away out of reflex.

“Just go get railed, y/n,” he laughed again, opening the back door and playfully pushing you into the kitchen.

//

Jack’s bedroom door was closed.

You could hear nothing except the sound of the pipes beneath your feet, rattling and rumbling. They sounded a thousand times louder when you were nervous.

The thoughts mulled over in your head. This was it.

You had spent an entire week and a half pining and desperately aching for something- anything- to happen with Jack, and everytime you thought it finally would, something came along to stop it.

But not anymore. Not now you had reached out to find him yourself.

You had a feeble excuse that you were checking up on everyone before bed, in case he asked. But if Ben was telling the truth, you knew he definitely wouldn’t.

You took a deep breath and rapped your knuckles on the door, shifting back and forth on your feet. The next three seconds ebbed away like paint drying, but the sound of footsteps on the other end of the door kept you glued in place.

“Ben I swear to fucking god if you-”

He paused mid sentence, relaxing his shoulders.

His hair was slightly damp and wavy, and he was wearing a loose-fitting white t-shirt that clung around his frame. Droplets of water lay like ash on his smoke-coloured forearms.

You breathed out,

“Hi Jack…”

God, even the way his name rolled off your tongue had him reeling.

It was easy for anyone in the mansion who wasn’t you to tell Jack had a thing for you. Whether by the way he never took his gaze off you, or how he always managed to wind up sitting or walking next to you, or the way he would glare daggers into the soul of any of the other guys for even smiling at you- obvious was not the word.

Actually, on that note, having a thing for you wasn’t the term either. In fact, that would be the hugest understatement of the century, right next to ‘Zalgo won’t really be an active threat to you guys'.

Jack Nichols was obsessed with you.

Ever since you walked through those double doors at the ceremonial dinner, eyes wide with the naivety of a newborn fawn, he wanted to devour you.

He couldn’t stop taking you in, and even when it was plainly obvious you noticed- that time during dinner on the first night spent at the mansion- he couldn’t stop. He also couldn’t help how good it felt to see you squirming and gulping just because of the way he was looking at you.

He also couldn’t help how a few nights later, when you had been down in the kitchen talking to Toby, he had picked the lock to your bedroom and stolen a few pairs of your underwear for his own sick pleasures,  but you didn't need to know that.

And also, you had began to stare back.

Jack was no master of human emotions, being barely human himself, but he knew exactly what your lingering gazes meant… when you’d blink those eyes up to him, almost urging him to do something. Your soft lips, gentle and parted, practically begging to be kissed.

And he almost did, if that dumbass clown wasn’t there to remind him where he was.

And You, who played innocent like you didn’t wield the entire damn world within your fingers.

You, who let him trip you up only to catch you again.

You, who was standing at his bedroom door right now, looking up at him with those same desperate eyes he loved so much.

“Y/N…” he couldn’t help the growl-like sound that escaped his throat. Y/N…. Y/N… Y/N…

“Can you talk right now?” you asked him, heart rattling a million beats per second in your chest.

He almost let it slip that for you, he would clear out any schedule, but he remained composed. He needed to hide this obsession, to continue his act of nonchalance.

His hand clenched around the doorknob, as though it were the only thing keeping him from completely ruining you.

“Sure, come in… I just showered, so it’s hot in here…”

There was something in that statement that urged you to take off your jacket, and you did. He wasn’t lying- it was hot in there.

You sat at the edge of his bed and looked around, noticing how he had made himself quite comfortable. The clothes that had been sent from his home by your dad were unpacked and sorted away, and his bedside table was slightly cluttered with a cup of coffee, a polaroid camera, and a watch.

Your mind was slowly going blank with every step he took toward you.

He lay on the bed, leaning on his right and propped upward on his elbow, surveying you like you were a little experiment for him to toy with. Despite the fact he was half-laying down and you were sat upright, it still felt like he was towering over you.

You started talking about Zalgo, asking if he was alright like the sweet little thing you were.

You were so good, filled with purity and sweetness and everything Jack wanted to ruin. He noticed everything in tenfold- the suppleness of your skin, freckles, the exact colour and texture of your hair, the little inhales you took between sentences.

Your moans, his mind added, and he had to quickly turn his gaze upward to avoid popping a boner in front of you too soon.

He cleared his throat to help get his mind off it, but at the same time, you stopped speaking, as though waiting for him to start.

The silence had become clouded with so much desperation that any attempt to ignore it would be nothing but futile, and neither of you seemed to remember what the other was talking about.

“You didn’t come here to talk about Zalgo, Y/N, did you….?” his voice was low, deeper than usual. He reached out, slender fingers pinning a strand of hair behind your ear. He shifted closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from him the same way he could smell the sweetness of your perfume.

You gazed down at his lips momentarily, and he leant up. Suddenly, the room and everything around you was absolutely meaningless. The world was absolutely meaningless, except for this.

He crashed his lips onto yours before you could even shake your head.

Adrenaline turned to electric turned to fireworks, and they soared and exploded through each and every vein in your body. He was cupping your cheek with one hand, and wrapping the other around your waist to tug you in closer.

“C’mere…” he whispered, a low guttural sound that made your insides flip, and suddenly, you were straddling him.

You felt your face heat up. You had never done anything like this before… 20 years of repressed sexual urges had led to this very moment, and now you felt yourself fall into autopilot, letting him take you in any way he wanted.

He was practically inhaling your scent, hands in your hair and nose buried in your neck where you had sprayed your perfume earlier.

“Fuck Y/N, you smell so good…” he groaned out, and the sound of it made heat pool in your underwear. His hands fell to your ass and squeezed, before flipping you onto your back and rushing to unbutton your jeans.

All you could think about was how good he was- kissing you and praising you and treating you like you were his favourite meal on earth and he had spent the last 20 years starving for it.

“Can I taste you? Fuck, I need to taste you…”

Your legs were over his shoulders in seconds, and his lips nipped and kissed all the most sensitive parts of flesh that had you whining and moaning his name.

His head felt dizzy. He was practically salivating at the sight of you beneath him, spread open and whimpering for him.

God, you were perfect… and you were all his… his to ruin, his to corrupt… his to keep…

He looked back up to you, and lost every last bit of composure he managed to hold on to. His hair fell over his eyes, and the darkest of expressions crossed his face.

You bit down on your lip and wondered if you were going crazy with how much you needed this.

And then, he pressed his tongue against your clit. It was longer than the average human tongue and three times as powerful, meaning that you felt every long, needy stroke he made in tenfold. Your body was already shivering and shaking, and you couldnt help but cover your mouth and let out a small squeal from the pleasure of it.

Jack Nichols did not know addiction until now.

He literally could not get enough of you- when you were on the verge of cumming, hands in your messy hair and begging him not to stop, and he couldn’t even dream of it.

His hands were on your hips now, so that even if you wanted to, you couldn’t move a single muscle, and he was lapping you up like mountain water. His tongue swirled and flicked in all the right places at all the right speeds- short and quick or long and dragging licks, both of which had you reeling.

He had to force himself not to cum in his pants at the sight of you like this. You, so usually kind and friendly, completely undone at his touch.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you writhed beneath him, realising that this was the best you’d ever felt in your entire life.

You barely even knew the guy, but you knew that finding better than this would be near impossible.

Something about that realisation only turned you on more. Suddenly, your back arched, and you were moaning, begging louder than ever, almost uncontrollably.

“Fuck, J-Jack, fuck…!”

He looked at you the same way a devout christian looks at God, and practically tore off his own t-shirt to ball up and shove into your mouth,

“Bite down on that…” he ordered

You think you might die if he stopped again, so you obeyed.

And then, with the rushing of a lifetime of wait, and the grand finale to the most intrinsic firework show ever felt, you let out a loud moan before practically falling limp.

He felt himself throbbing, yet didn’t care. He knew he’[d have to drag it out longer until he feels you wrapped around him, because doing it now would send him into a frenzied heat that might wind up dangerous. He knew better than to risk it.

So he admired you, panting from your orgasm like the angel you were, knowing that you were all his. Now he had made his mark on you, there was no going back.

You were dizzy, your throat was dry and you were pretty sure if you tried to walk right now, you would collapse.

Jack was still looking down at you, and for once, you didn’t even try to read his thoughts.  

Chapter Text

“Y/N…”

His voice was more gentle than you had ever heard it and twice as gruff, laced with a tone only reserved for the earliest of mornings. His strong hands shook you like you were made of glass, but enough so that your eyes fluttered open.

Either you just had the best dream of your life, or Jack really did fuck you to sleep.

“Jason’s on his way… c’mon, we gotta go downstairs…”

Okay, so it was option two. Holy shit.

It was then that you realized you had nothing on. You were literally, totally naked, and be it the post-sex clarity or the hungry way he was looking at you, you suddenly felt exposed. You finished rubbing the sleep out of your eye and blinked up to him, and he cleared his throat and turned to button up the white button-up shirt he was wearing.

The silence was golden, you thought until he opened his mouth again.

“Morning gorgeous…” he smiled

Okay, that was unexpected. Your heart fluttered, but you kept your cool.

“Oh… hey Jack, morning…”

An urge came over you, drawing a sharp line between wanting to kiss him again and knowing you shouldn’t. Sure, okay, a quick fuck after a moment of stress during the trials was inevitable, but kissing each other good morning? Yeah, no, you knew that was too much too fast. Getting involved like… that wasn’t a good idea, especially this early on.

“You sleep okay?” he asked you, standing up and beginning to button up his shirt, drawing your attention to every single square centimeter of his exposed chest. Flashbacks of last night echoed in your mind. Shit.

He was still talking. Fuck.

“-have about twenty minutes before he comes, so I figured you’d wanna get dressed, c’mon, I’ll walk you to your room,” he nodded, not breaking the gaze for more than a second.

You were still thinking about him last night- that almost-demonic entity tearing apart an urge that rested so unknowingly inside him, and how now he was back to being normal Jack, perfectly poised and inconspicuous as ever.

You guessed bringing it up would make things awkward, and decided that if you both played your cards the same, no one would find out.

Not that you cared, really, but something about the entire mansion knowing your sex life when you’d only known them for two weeks was a little offputting. Plus, if it came down to it, they could use it against you. You were prepared for anything and everything, including shielding vulnerability.

But you couldn’t help but feel a little wave of resistance crash in your stomach. His bed was warm, and he was giving you butterflies just from the way he was looking at you. You knew you had to leave, but damn.

As you walked back to your room, side by side, you failed to notice how eager Jack was to keep his close proximity to you. See, what you didn’t know, was that Jack was as devoted as a dog when it came to this type of thing. He wasn’t human, despite his learned behaviors- didn’t have that sort of one-night stand mindset as they do.

No, he was part demon.

He didn’t have any urge for anything he didn’t want to keep.

Fucking him once and calling it quits? Good one, Y/N.

No, he was just getting started.

So he walked you back but kept no more than six centimeters between the two of you because anyone who even dared try it with you was already as good as dead.

But how could you blame him? He had left his mark on you- so pure, so innocent, so willing. And you had let him- so possessive, so tainted, so desperate.

You had fed him, and he was going to come back.

/////

“Nothing to worry about,” Jason concluded, his tone bribing you with more joy than his face sold, “You were right, it was definitely a message delivered from the Underworld, but we’re safe, extra protection measures have been conducted around the mansion and the nation, and there are no signs of any Underworld entities,”

“The Operator, however,” he turned in your direction, “is staying at a safe base in the Nation’s Capital, overseeing the status of our people whilst we, the Admin, oversee the status of our candidates,” he continued, “The trials will therefore continue despite the series of diversions,”

You were grateful to be updated on your dad because you were missing him like hell.

“On that note,” he announced, standing with his hands on his hips in front of the oven, “The Nation Interviews have been scheduled for next week! We all assumed they’d need a little entertainment to cheer them up after all the dismal tones, so we’ll be coming here every morning until then to get you guys ready!”

The Official Nation Interviews were a way for the people to get to know their future Operator and Admin team. They were a single ten-minute question-and-answer session and were broadcast live on every TV across the nation to allow citizens to place their bets on their champion. Honestly, the whole thing was Operator propaganda, which you hated, so you were kind of dreading it. Playing up to cameras to make rich people put their money on you? That was literally the last thing you wanted right now.

However, according to Andromeda, these interviews were the single most important thing in your running, surpassing even the trials, because at the end of the day- who could run a nation without winning over its people?

And the interviews were all you had. Afterward, the nation wouldn’t hear from you until the official trials were over, to allow standardization of impressions. See, all of you had to be on equal grounds when it came to selling yourself, which was put down to ten minutes. If you failed to win them over then, you failed to win them over at all.

But you knew that the nation loved your dad, and by extension, loved you too. You would be getting the most votes by far, and you weren’t even blowing up your own ego- you were simply admitting the fact. They had been rooting for you ever since you were born, ignoring that would be idiotic. These interviews were nothing to you.

But even still, the idea that you would be officially marketed and sold as propaganda made you a little sick to your stomach. It was a twisted system, and you were caught unwillingly right in it’s web. People were probably packaging merchandise of you as you thought.

“E-everyday…?” Toby whined. Either it was too early in the morning, or he hadn't slept yet, because the bags under his eyes were undeniable, and he was struggling to keep upright.

“Every day,” Jason nodded, “Oh, and Andromeda will drill it into your head tomorrow morning, but these ten minutes will define everything for you in here. Sure, you’ll probably survive the trials, but death isn’t impossible. And if you’re left in there without food or water for days on end, it doesn’t help your case,”

Two alarm bells rang out in your head.

The room fell silent.

“I’m sorry, days on end?” Brian spoke up.

“Trials can last between thirty minutes and seven days,” Jason turned over the page on the clipboard like he was saying nothing out of the ordinary. Everyone’s eyes widened, and you felt your heart sink down into your stomach.

You met Toby’s shocked gaze.

You were expecting to go in there, pretend to try for fifteen minutes, and then dip out. What did he mean by SEVEN DAYS?

And then Liu spoke up and raised even more questions,

“So you mean the nation provides us food and water?”

“Based on where they place their bets, yes,”

“This was never mentionned,” Liu said again, his voice fierce and eyes glaring,

“It wasn’t…?” Jason hummed, not breaking his stare from his clipboard. It was almost like he was avoiding looking at you all, “I’m sure we mentionned it somewhere,”

“No, you didn’t,” Jack snarled a little, and you felt his presence right next to you. Your cheeks heated up slightly, but you pretended not to notice him.

He was right, though. This was the first all of you were hearing this. The nation would BET on who gets to eat. And they could last up to a week long?! The room was thick with confusion and smothered with irritation. One wrong move and you could lose the hold you had on Jason right now, getting him to give you information, so you kept your mouth shut.

But you suddenly felt like you were a dog being trained to fight. This was not what you signed up for whatsoever.

Murmuring broke out among you all, and Brian shot you all a look to shut up before speaking again,

“Will any food or water be guaranteed?”

“That’ll depend on the trial each of you get allocated to,”

Each of you. So that means…

“So what you’re saying is we’ll be getting a separate trial for each of us?” you asked, noting how Jason didn’t specifically tell you things, but rather revealed them through his choice of words

“correct,” he looked up and met your gaze, the same hypnotic eyes as the first time you met him.

“And they’ll all last the same amount of time, so if my trial is 7 days then Brian’s will be too?”

“Depending on how fast you can get yourself out of them, then yes,”

You thought again about his wording.

“So the aim of the trials is to escape?” Tim asked

“Correct,”

“And how do we get the nation to bet on us?”

“By keeping them on your side,”

His tone was chipped and almost monotonous, and you could tell that he was sharing information he wasn’t supposed to, simply by the way he murmured and avoided looking at you all.

There was room for many more questions. For one, why were they measuring how efficiently you could escape from the trials when the position of Operator centered mainly around logistics and defense? You were pretty sure your dad never had to escape anything in his life, so why was it being treated like the main component for wielding the title?

“The official assessments at the end of next year will determine who has the best-written ability,” Jason answered when Tim prodded him about it.

“So these trials are basically to entertain the nation?” Jane asked, and Jason tilted his head forward in a nodding motion. You wondered why he was so eager to give out information, but you weren’t complaining.

“They ARE also a test for you all…”

He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he pulled out an old-fashioned pocket watch from his jacket and widened his eyes,

“It’s time for me to leave. I’m expected back in 45 minutes, I can’t be late,” he scrambled, “Andromeda will be here tomorrow morning to discuss your outfits for the interviews,” he nodded and rushed out the door without a goodbye.

“Anyone else find that fucking odd?” Ben asked, and all of you nodded in agreement.

So let’s get this straight.

These trials were suspicious. No doubt about it.

First off, the entire selling point of the competition had been the trials. Everyone literally called it ‘The Trials’ for a reason. You always thought they would decide who won. And you always thought the twelve of you would be competing in the same trials. That only made sense, right?

Now, you were being told that the trials were basically just to entertain the public, and you would be competing in completely separate trials. Also, they wouldnt even determine the final winner.

What the fuck.

You felt a hand on your back, rubbing gently up and down, and you relaxed at the somewhat now-familiar feeling of Jack against you. In the utter confusion of everything going on, you didn't mind him doing it so publicly. It seemed like no one noticed, either.

“I assumed we were being put into an arena to battle it out” Clockwork leaned over the counter, “Why are they training us in combat against each other and measuring our fighting skills if we won’t even be using them?”

“Unless,” Brian pondered, “no… we’ll be fighting something- but it might not be each other we’re fighting,”

“Oh shit that’s true,” Ben nodded in agreement, “But what could we be going up against…? There aren’t exactly any active threats around unless…”

The room went deadly quiet. Suddenly, the walls seemed to close in around you all as the pieces fell into place.

The sudden uprise in attacks. The knocking on your walls. The shadows in the forest. The diversion and the fog.

You were being trained to take on The Underworld. 

Chapter Text

“Wh-at the fuck is even the point…?” Toby asked you, swinging on the back of his chair and rubbing harshly at his eyes, creating a ring of red around them for a few seconds.

It was just past midnight, and you were in the middle of another tutoring session. This time you were focusing on grammar, and he was grasping it quite well, except for apostrophes. He was literally tragic at them.

You liked tutoring Toby. it had only been a few times, but he was a good student. You could tell he actually wanted to learn, plus his company was nice. He was calmer when he was alone, and surprisingly filled with more than a fair share of philosophical acclaims and interesting questions. 

He was right. Ever since Jason burst into the kitchen earlier this morning and turned your beliefs about everything on its head, you couldn’t stop thinking about it either.

What WAS the point in studying for proper examinations when you guys were being forced to fight Zalgo’s underlings? Presumably. I mean, you were 99% sure of it. You hadn't told anyone else about it yet, but you had to be right. It made too much sense.

You also decided you were going to be the one to do something about it.

I mean, look at you. You had spent your teenage years avoiding confrontation and look where it got you.

Granted, it got you good things, like friends and… whatever Jack was, but still. Here you were, undermining yourself and falling bait to the system.

Now was the time to fix that.

You didn't exactly know what you were going to do, but you knew it had to start with telling the candidates your working theory without making the Admin think you were conspiring against them.

But to be honest, you were starting to doubt them. I mean, they worked with your dad, so they couldn't be all bad, right? Still, you thought it was kind of pathetic to make you guys do their bidding, granted your theory was right. Why couldn't THEY take on the Underworld?

But you decided that, until you had more evidence, you were gonna keep it to yourself.

“You’re right…” you said to Toby, shutting the book he was writing in and resting your head on the table, “Think we should call off the tutor sessions til we find out more…?”

“No!” his reply was sharp and quick. You shot your head up with surprise, and he sheepishly continued,

“No…n-no, I mean uh…” he looked to be fighting internally with himself, “I just… wanna be as pr-prepared as possible for whenever we ac-tually do the ex-exams..”

His red cheeks told you he was embarrassed, and you decided to let it slide,

“Well at least for tonight, let's call it a night- I’m exhausted,” you laughed. You weren’t lying, you were exhausted. Plus, you had something to do tonight...

////

Jack was waiting for you at his bedroom door at a quarter past midnight, with a soft smirk on his face. You were five minutes early- it was as if he had sensed your footsteps.

“Was hoping you’d be early…” his voice was soothing, and he reached out a hand to place gently on your back as you walked through the door.

You still didn’t really know how to feel about the whole Jack thing. I mean, of course, the butterflies he gave you were undeniable, and the sex he gave you was even better. But getting emotions involved was futile, and plus, you didn’t know a thing about him other than the fact he liked to look at you and he was insatiable in bed.

But even at that, you couldn’t deny the fact you had decided to see him again after telling yourself it was gonna be a one-night stand. And you couldn't help but flutter as you felt his hand touch your lower back.

“So, miss Operator’s daughter,” he joked, kicking his door shut softly and gesturing to his bed for you to sit down. You got comfortable and slipped off your shoes, leaning up against his headboard. You widened your eyes in teasing anticipation, and he rested his hands either side of you,

“I’d like to take you on a date,”

Your heart did a backflip.

A WHAT?!

You were fully expecting to come up here, have sex, and then disappear and inevitably end up back again tomorrow night. You were NOT expecting a date. Didn’t he know how dangerous it was to let emotions get involved? You knew you were teetering on the edge of it, but you knew where to draw the line. Evidently, he did not.

You must have looked as shocked as you felt because he laughed slightly, short and gentle. Your cheeks burned at the sound of it. He spoke again,

“Don’t worry, I know we can’t technically go on one since we can’t leave the mansion,” he said, “But we can improvise?”

You found yourself jumping to decision-making a lot faster than you usually would. Jack was so cool, and mysterious, and his voice was like honey and he always smelled like the forest, and you LOVED the forest. Going on a date with him would be like going inside that tower of mystery that surrounded him. Here he was, giving you the key.

You bit your lip, considering that, at the end of the day, if your theories proved correct, you would be put in a battle ring with Zalgo and his underlings. Your life was about to get a hell of a lot more serious. Why did you have to add to that by restricting yourself from having fun? It’s not like you were gonna marry the guy! Plus, you knew deep down you wanted it.

Fuck it, it would be fine.

“Jack… I’d love to go on a date with you…” you smiled up to him, your heart still racing.

“Amazing,” he leaned down, pressing a long kiss to your lips, “Stay here,”

He disappeared, and then returned a few seconds later with a tray in his hands,

“Ever been to high tea?” he asked you, setting the tray between you on the bed, “I lived in London for a while before we moved here, I don’t know if you knew that, I never really developed an accent,” he laughed out, “We’d go to them all the time, I thought you’d like this,”

Between the effort he had put in to prepare it and the utter picture of it, you didn’t know what to say. A ceramic white and grey mug with hand-painted elephants sat in front of you atop a small saucer with a matching teaspoon. Next to it stood a cake stand, fit with three separate tiers.

On the bottom were tiny, rectangular sandwiches with all different filings inside. In the middle, homemade scones, and on top, a variety of miniature cakes and biscuits. On either side of the stand were little dishes of jam and clotted cream.

You couldn’t believe he had done this.

“I figured being the Operator’s daughter and all, you’d be used to the high life-” he smirked.

He was right. You were raised knowing what you were worth. Your dad had brought you breakfast in bed each morning, and rarely let you lift a finger to help. But that was your dad. This was someone so refined, so responsible, so different. This was Jack.

“Oh my god… this looks amazing…” you blushed, shaking your head up to him, “Thank you…”

Your face was undeniably scarlet at this point, but you didn’t even care. Fuck your need for guarding yourself, this was literally the best night of your life.

“I cut them up myself,” he said, picking up one of the sandwiches to show you. They were flawless, all even and perfectly sliced up, “Medic skills aren’t just good for cutting people open-” he joked, holding it up to your mouth for you to try.

You felt like you were in a movie, and this was the scene where your favorite song would play.

“It’s so good,” you widened your eyes, relaxing more and swallowing it, “Holy shit, you could become a chef-” you laughed

“Don’t forget your tea-” he beamed, and you realized you had never seen him look so… relaxed. His shoulders weren’t raised, and the crease between his eyebrows had gone. He looked, right now, like any sort of guy you would meet, maybe at school, or at a club. Not like one of the most skilled candidates for the Operator in the Nation at all. And you loved it.

“Now, I wanna know more about you-” he said again, setting the teapot back down.

“What? Now I’m getting wined and dined?” you joked, and he laughed. You suddenly wanted to joke for the rest of your life just to hear it.
You remembered the day you were so terrified under his gaze in the kitchen, and you could have laughed.

“Oh yeah, definitely, cus if you think I’m NOT gonna fuck you after this, you must be dumb-” he grinned again, and you swatted at him playfully. He dodged it, still laughing, before speaking again,

“Have you lived here your entire life?”

This sparked a back-and-forth question-and-answer session between the two of you that ended with you lying on his bed, side by side, staring at the ceiling. The tray was on the floor, and you were talking in low tones, voices humming together like a melody as you traced patterns in the air,

It was around two in the morning, and time had never gone by so quickly.

You could see the stars from where you lay, and the moonlight poured into the room to illuminate nothing but your faces. This, you thought, was magical.

“And Barcelona would be beautiful…”

You were listing off all the places you wanted to travel, and he was watching you, bated breath, content on listening to you talk about anything. Each word that left your mouth had him speechless- your intellect, your philosophical takes, your morals.

“And the food there is meant to be beautiful..”

And then it dawned on you that he hadn’t eaten anything. You meant to ask why there had been only one teacup, but in the midst of disbelief and relentless allowance to let yourself feel, you forgot.

“I wasn’t hungry,” he said when you brought it up, “I had something earlier,”

He looked more serious, and his gaze faltered from looking at you to looking back at the ceiling.

You blinked. One of the first things your dad taught you was how to spot a liar.

You thought about it for a moment and then realized that actually, you had never seen him eat before. The ceremonial dinner, he hadn’t touched the buffet. The night you had pasta with the girls, he hadn’t been in the kitchen. Every night at dinner he seemed to be busy doing something. At breakfast, he was always talking to someone or helping cook, but he was never eating.

You decided to chalk it up to being something to do with the fact he wasn’t totally human, but you bookmarked it in your head to mull over later. Why was he so avoidant about talking about it? He could be insecure, but something was telling you it was more than that.

But you let it go for now. It was late, and you didn’t like the way the corners of his mouth were downturned. Not after he had just done all of that for you.

You broke the silence with a grin,

“Well you’ve wined and dined me,” you flirted, and watched as he relaxed almost instantly, “What’s next?”

He was on you before you could even sit up straighter to meet him halfway.

/////

It was 3 a.m., and you were doing the walk of shame down your own hallway.

You were so grateful for your dad right now for making you memorize the layout of the mansion when you were younger because standing on any creaky floorboard right now would no doubt wake up half of the floor.

You were so close to staying over in Jack’s room, but you both decided that, with the Admin coming over at 8 am, it would be too risky. You weren’t exactly exclusive.

You made it to your room, slipping in, and switching off the light. You seriously should think about becoming a spy.

When you turned around, you almost screamed.

“Well well well, look who decided to arrive,” Clockwork’s eyes slanted teasingly.

“And where might you have been at this fine hour?” Jane added in the same voice, leaning on her palm as Nina stifled giggles.

The three of them sat in pajamas on YOUR bed, grinning up at you like three kids who just caught their parents wrapping their Christmas presents.

Your eyes were wide, and your hand was still clutching your heart where you thought you were about to DIE

“What the HELL are you doing in my room?!” you hissed, but you were laughing, “Jesus Christ you almost gave me a HEART ATTACK,”

“US?!” Clockwork feigned shock, hand on her chest with a gasp, “WE were just being good friends, and came to say goodnight to our good friend Y/N before bed, only to find her missing! Care to tell us where you’ve been?”

The four of you were committed to the bit now.

“I was clearly… on a walk,” you lied, fixing up your hair and leaning against the wall.

And as if on cue, you all burst into laughter,

“Yeah I’m not selling myself here am I?” you laughed, and Jane stood, wrapping her hand around your waist and practically dragging you to your mirror.

You groaned at having to face yourself so soon. This was supposed to be a tomorrow morning problem.

Your hair was like a bird’s nest. Your lipgloss was smudged all over your mouth, and to top it all off, a huge red welt was shining like a medal on your neck, teeth marks and all.

“A WALK?!” Jane stage-whispered so as to not wake anyone else up, “Don’t lie to us you WHORE-”

You cackled, batting her hands away and flipping them all off,

“Fuck you guys!” you shielded your face, “Let a girl have FUN!”

“Oh, we plan to!” Nina lay on her stomach, eyes wide, grinning up to you with her chin in her palm, “Once you tell us EVERYTHING-”

“Don’t think we haven’t noticed you and Mr. Nichols getting up close and personal-” Clockwork grinned, “He’s been ready to bite any other man who looks at you-”

“He is hot-” Nina nodded to you, “Like fucking hell Y/N you lucky bitch,” she laughed, “is it good?”

“Is it big?” Clockwork waggled her eyebrows, and you playfully hit her,

“C’mon c’mon get comfy,” Jane pulled back your covers, and the four of you got comfy, you and Clockwork at the top, Jane and Nina at the bottom, all cozy and tucked in,

“I feel like the grandparents from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” Clockwork snorted and you all burst into more giggles,

“Okay, is everyone comfy?” you asked them. They called out variations of yes, and you cleared your throat dramatically to begin. 

Chapter Text

1. Everybody Wants to Rule the World- Lorde

2. I Constantly Thank God For Estaban- Panic! At The Disco

3. Rabbit Heart- Florence and the Machine

4. gold rush- Taylor Swift

5. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun- Cyndi Lauper

6. Radioactive- Imagine Dragons

7. Hometown- Twenty One Pilots

8. American Teenager- Ethel Cain

9. Bad Blood- Taylor Swift

10. Enchanted- Taylor Swift

11. Come A Little Closer- Cage the Elephant

12. I Don't Wanna Live Forever- Taylor Swift and Zayn Malik

13. Glory and Gore- Lorde

14. London Boy- Taylor Swift

15. Teacher's Pet- Melanie Martinez

16. Live While We're Young- One Direction

17. Are You Satisfied?- MARINA

18. Bravado- Lorde

19. War- Hypnotic Brass Ensemble

20. Welcome To New York- Taylor Swift

21. I Can See You- Taylor Swift

Chapter Text

If you thought the preparation for these interviews would have been smooth sailing, you seriously needed to think again.

You didn’t think much preparation needed to go into planning a ten-minute interview. You imagined it to be nothing more than talking about your skillsets, your promises and your motives to a group of fancy boardmen in an empty room with chipping paint and posters on the walls, and watching them nod in approval and wish you luck in the trials.

You did not expect Andromeda, banging on your bedroom door at 7 a.m.

“Got you guys coffee to get ready for the crazy week ahead of you!” she joked, handing you a cupholder with four iced pumpkin spice lattes. You had no idea how she knew the four of you were together right now, but it was 7 a.m., and it was pumpkin spice season. You weren’t complaining.

“Tell whoever’s at the door to fuck off, we’re sleeping!” Clockwork groaned from your bed, and Andromeda snorted, peering in past you to see the four of them tucked under your duvets,

“Thanks, Clockwork, I’ll remember that one when I’m hyping you up to the nation,” she called in, jokingly, before reminding you guys to be ready in an hour and disappearing.

Jane was rubbing her eyes, and gratefully took the drink from your hands to gulp down like water. Nina, on the other hand, was sipping it slowly, her pink sleeping mask hanging around her neck and her hair shielding the majority of her face. Clockwork had gone back to sleep, mumbling something about waking her up in twenty minutes.

The four of you had gotten 2 hours of sleep in total. After the buzz of talking about your crush on Jack and screaming over every little detail that happened last night, you all found it impossible to sleep.

You looked out the window. It was October 1st, and the skies were darkened and crisp. The threes outside had turned into shades of brown and maple, and you watched as the leaves drifted to the grass below.

“At least she brought us coffee…” Jane offered, now drinking Clockwork’s coffee.

The two of you nodded in response, and you drank in amicable silence, waiting for the effects to kick in.

By 8 a.m., they had left to get dressed, and you were standing in a pair of black leggings and a deep green sweater. You somehow felt ready to take on the day despite your sleep deprivation, and you sprayed some perfume before heading downstairs.

“I’m thinking a theme of Administrators…we could dress them up to match with us so the Nation know who they’re training under…” Andromeda was saying, “But if you guys have any other suggestions, let me know- it has to be absolutely perf- oh hey Y/N!”

She waved to you before turning back to her audience of the other Admin, Brian and Liu. Liu was giving you a look, raising his eyebrows, as though telling you something along the lines of ‘Please save yourself and turn around while you still can’.

“An Admin theme may be good…” Jason nodded, “I could put Jack in copper, give him a top hat and a cane…”

The mental image of Jack with a top hat and a can made you internally cringe. You begged them not to see the vision.

You were elated when you saw Andromeda mirror your expression. She was wearing a red sweater over a black mini-skirt today, and her nails were painted maroon. You wondered what her wardrobe looked like, considering each of her outfits were undeniably gorgeous.

Soon, the rest of the candidates had arrived, and Jack made a beeline to sit next to you, murmuring out a ‘morning…’, with his hand on the sofa behind your head. You blushed and smiled up to him, accepting the fact that yeah, maybe you did make a cute couple.

“We’ll figure it out later… it’ll come to me-” Andromeda nodded to herself, before addressing the room, “Morning everyone! This morning I’m gonna be going through the interview process, and then taking some measurements for your outfits.”

She began to talk about the interviews, and you nodded along despite already knowing the information after Jason had let it slip yesterday morning. You still hadn’t concluded if he was allowed to tell you it or not, but if he was paranoid, he didn’t show it.

“So, you have exactly 10 minutes each to sell yourselves-”

“Yeah, but how are we supposed to know how to do that?” Jeff crossed his arms, scowling. Clearly, he wasn’t a morning person. You can’t say you were shocked.

“Well, that’s why we’re here-” Andromeda gestured to the rest of the Admin, “We have exactly seven days including today to prepare you- your outfits, your speeches, your body language- to sell yourselves the best you can. Trust, me, you’ll all be nation sweethearts by the time we’re done with you.” she nodded to you all, “Oh, and they’ll be taking place at the Proxy Academy in the Nation’s Capital, and they’ll be broadcast live to the Nation and to an audience.

The Proxy Academy was a place none of you took lightly. The mention of it made a few mouths drop, even Jeff’s eyes widened. Only the most extravagant events occurred there- galas, grand openings, and award shows. You had only been there once when your dad was awarded The Operator title. There had been a huge party, and you remember eating so much fancy food at the buffet you fell asleep under the table.

Good times.

You had never truly felt the importance of these trials until now.

A tinge of excitement surged through you. You had spent the majority of your life alone, in the mansion, training for the life you had right now.

You kinda felt like a star.

The feeling was clearly mutual with the twelve of you. Ben was staring into space, eyes sparkling with daydreams, likely of what he would do when the world knew his name. Jack was smiling down at you, even Helen was drumming his hands on his lap with excitement.

But it was Tim (obviously) who ruined the moment,

“So, what exactly happens in the trials?”

His voice was even, but you sensed an ulterior motive to it. Immediately, you saw Jason’s eyes widen, and Tim’s narrow in retaliation.

You knew exactly what he was playing at.

“Hm?” Andromeda paused her spiel, turning to face him, her face unreadable,

“I was wondering how long each trial lasted,”

You knew where he was going with this. He was trying to catch them out.

Yesterday morning, Jason had thrown you all off by giving you details for the trials, and each detail was another fork in the road to your plans. However, you had gotten the feeling he wasn’t supposed to let them slide- like how you weren’t guaranteed food or water, and you could potentially be in there for a week.

Tim knew this, you knew this, you all knew this. You had spent the majority of yesterday complaining about how fucked up it all was and conspiring against the system about it.

Of course, your theory that you were being trained to fight Zalgo and his Underlings was still in the air, meaning no one knew about it, but if Tim played his cards right during this conversation, maybe you could score some more proof.

If anyone else noticed what he was doing, they didn't let on. Natalie had whispered to Brian something along the lines of ‘doesn't he already know this?’, and Ben and Toby were still in their little daydreams. The rest of them had either drifted into conversation or excused themselves to the kitchen for tea.

It seemed like you were the only one listening.

“I…” Andromeda stalled slightly, and Candypop cut in,

“We cannot disclose that information- The Admin does not know what the trials will entail until the morning of,” he nodded. You noticed Jason’s eyes narrow at Tim, as though silently urging him to shut up.

That was interesting.

Tim only nodded in feigned understanding, “And there will be three locations total used for the trials?”

You noted how he was twisting his language slightly. He didn’t say three trials total, he specified the location aspect of them.

See, Jason had let it slip to you guys that you would be participating in completely different trials, rather than the twelve of you being put into the same one. Why this was happening, you had no idea. But by asking about location rather than trial, it shut down any loopholes they could feed you guys because there was no way around the truth.

You noticed Candypop pause. You knew, by observation, that he had been thrown off.

You didn't like Tim at the best of times. He was an arrogant, stuck-up prick. But you had to give this to him.

“Again, we cannot disclose any information to you until the trials begin,” he cleared his throat. You noticed Laughing Jack squint his eyes at Tim slightly, before cutting into the conversation,

“Let's talk about that at a better time! Focus on Andromeda for now, or else she might give you a horrible outfit to wear! Imagine that!” he cackled.

You made direct eye contact with Tim, and a silent understanding washed over you both. It was brief and was quickly doused in ignoring it and pretending it didn't happen, but it happened.

You knew you had to get him alone.

///

“Jack oh my god, someone’s gonna see us…” you mumbled through a giggle, feeling your back against the wall of the hallway outside your dad’s office. Here you were, 20 years old and hiding in an alcove to kiss your boyfriend-who-wasnt-your-boyfriend whilst your teachers weren't looking.

“Sorry baby… couldn’t stop looking at you in there…” he muttered through a sharp-toothed grin, and you knew he didn't mean the apology at all. Not by the way he was squeezing your hips and drawing his tongue over the exposed flesh on your neck.

You had been getting measured for your outfits, which Andromeda promised to have completely ready by tomorrow. This meant you had to take off any outstanding layers, leaving you in nothing but a white spaghetti-strapped top and a pair of black pyjama shorts whilst she wrapped a measuring tape around each and every body part.

Honestly, the whole process was exhausting and embarrassing. You felt like a circus animal being sized up for display as she called out numbers to Kagekao, who scribbled them down on a clipboard. Luckily, no one was around to watch,

No one except Jack.

He had insisted on staying put, sitting on the sofa next to Jason and watching you like you were a gogo dancer at his favourite club.

Seeing him there made you squirm, and your insides felt like jelly every time you made eye contact with him, his empty black sockets doing a better job at admiring you than any pair of eyes ever could.

Then, the second you were finished and replaced by Brian, who awkwardly arrived in a tank top and a pair of shorts, he followed you out and slammed you against the wall.

“You’re crazy…” you whimpered softly, feeling his cold hands slide up your shirt and rub small circles on your exposed nipples, “God, you’re fucking crazy…”

“You drove me there, baby…” he said, pressing his lips to yours again.

You probably should have felt a little weird going at it outside your dad’s office, but Jack was so distracting and addictive that no matter where it happened, you wouldnt have cared.

“Oh my god… keep doing that…” you groaned softly when a voice snapped you out of it,

“Y/N. A word?”

It was Laughing Jack.

And he did not look happy.

Oh my god, you wanted to die. As if your fucking mentor just caught you up against the wall with another candidate. You begged the floor to swallow you whole. Your life was a fucking JOKE.

You had no choice but to silently follow him to one of the spare rooms, where he shut the door. You imagined he would have gestured for you to sit down, but there were no chairs. Nothing filled the room except for white walls and linoleum floorboards.

“Yeah…?” you asked him, looking and feeling a little more awkward than you ever had in your life,

He was standing, 7 feet above you, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. You felt like a small child who had just got in trouble with their favourite teacher.

He sighed out, and his long hand, talon-like fingers and all cupped your cheek and tilted your head up so you were looking him in the eye. There, he used his thumb to rub soft strokes up and down,

“You are a very talented young lady, y/n..” he crooned out, but his tone of voice didn’t match his praises. He looked as though he wanted to grab you by the throat and throw you into the wall behind you, and you were too frightened right now to argue or back away, so you stayed very still,

“Aren’t you going to thank your favourite mentor…?” his voice took a deeper octave, and he was speaking low like he was afraid someone might hear him. You widened your eyes, suddenly reminded of the Standard Abilities Assessment, when he had cornered you against the wall to congratulate you.

“I… thank you…” you nodded, trying not to panic at the way he was slowly crouching down to be at your height.

“Let me give you a warning,” he offered to you, eyes baring level with yours as if he were proposing the deal of a century, “you’ll listen to a warning, won’t you y/n?”

You nodded, still unsure of how to take him. He looked like he was about to snap you in half with his claws.

“That’s my girl…” his voice curled, and you felt the sharpness of his fingernails gently press into your chin. He was scratching beneath it as if you were a kitten, “Here’s the warning… relationships, of any kind, are strictly prohibited for these trials…”

Oh.

Oh.

“And you, my dear, have found yourself amidst one, have you not? My my,” he shook his head, still talking like you were merely eight years old, “What am I to do with you… I ought to teach you a few lessons of my own…” he chuckled darkly. You didnt want to ask what type of lessons he was thinking of.

“Now, even the brightest candidates make mistakes-” he gently tapped your nose as though doting over you, “So I'll let you off this once, but if I see you and Jack,”

He spat the name like it was a slur, and you winced.

“Together like that, ever again-” his tone was menacing, and he only shook his head. It was enough to tell you what he meant.

The room was deadly silent, so much so that all you could hear was your own terrified heartbeat. You couldnt lose Jack. Not when- not when things had just started to go good. Not when he had just taken you on a date and talked with you about the future for hours. Not when you thought of him every night and every morning when you woke up. Not when he had just been kissing you five minutes ago.

You felt like all the joy of life was slowly being sucked away, and it suddenly occurred to you how much you liked Jack.

You felt like a teenage girl begging her protective dad to let her date a guy, and it made you feel pathetic. You knew he was right. Emotions complicate things. How could you compete against a guy you were in love with?  It was doomed to fail.

But still…

“Understand me, Y/N?” he tilted his head.

You nodded.

“Tell me you understand me,” he ordered.

“I understand you.” you blinked up to him, and he slowly smiled again,

“Good girl… such a clever candidate you are…” he pet your head again, returning to his original height and opening the door, before disappearing promptly and leaving you standing there, feeling more confused and alone than ever. 

Chapter Text

You were pissed off.

No, actually, you were furious. Pissed off was officially the new understatement of the 2010s.

You were livid. Furious. Homicidal, even.

You had, first and foremost, been up from 6 am, at the hands of the administration who were currently driving you crazy and as of last night, treating you like a child- like your dad wasn’t the fucking Operator. These Nation interviews may as well have been the trials themselves, for they were being treated like life or death.

Also, you were this close to losing it with Jack, because clearly, he didn’t see the problem,

“You’re really gonna listen to them?” he quirked an eyebrow at you, “you do realize your own status, right? You’re the OPERATOR’s daughter- you could light the place on fire and probably still get away with it… you can’t be serious with me right now,”

You wanted to tell him that you knew that- you knew your effect and your skill and your power, but you had to admit, they were partially the ones with the power here. I mean, all they had to do was sabotage you in the interviews, or the trials themselves, and you were as good as fucked in there.

If the Admin fucked you over, the nation wouldnt want to know you.

Sure, you could light the place on fire, but none of it would matter if you had no matches.

You were standing in his room, talking in hushed voices whilst the Admin got the living room ready for your outfit testing, trying to work out what to do. Did you let them walk all over you, or did you risk potentially being sabotaged and consequentially have a disadvantage in the trials?

“There’s no way I’m letting them tell me what to do with my life any more than they already are-” he gestured to the door, alluding to how they were sat downstairs with clothing racks and brand deals and expensive perfume to doll you all up in,

“I know, Jack, and I feel the same, but..”

“No, I’m not letting them, I’m not letting you-” he practically growled, taking a few steps closer

“You aren’t letting me…?” you asked him, your voice losing its edge.

He closed the gap between you.

“No… not when everything’s been so perfect…”

You were sensing some undertones.

You nodded,

“They’ll be nothing in two years… think about this, Y/N… there’s no way they would sabotage us, they couldn’t…”

You thought about it.

You were practically at a point now where you would have rather been sabotaged than give this up. Not only did Jack give you something to look forward to in these trials, he gave you a feeling you had never felt before- a feeling of being not only wanted but desired. .

“We’ll keep it a secret,” he nodded to you, like had just had the idea there and then, his hand brushing soft strokes up and down your cheek, “they can’t watch us all the time… we’ll just hide it, they don’t need to know… it’ll be easy…”

If you had the option to choose between getting caught, and this, the answer was obvious.

Plus, you had spy training.

You wanted to remind him that you had only been on one date, but the idea of it… of clandestine meetings and yearning for him, knowing he’s yearning for you right back… the thrill of sneaking around like the teenager you never got the chance to be.

“C’mon, Y/N…” he kissed your palm from where it was still pressed to his cheek, and you felt heat rush to your own. He began to leave a trail of kisses up and down your wrists and palms, and it suddenly occurred to you that even if you wanted to stop doing this with him, you might not be able to.

“Fine… you’re right… let’s keep it a secret…”

///

And that’s how you ended up standing in the middle of your own living room, biting back smiles every time Jack so much as looked in your direction.

The place looked like a completely different room. Scratch that, the entire mansion looked like a completely different building. All of the curtains that usually lay drawn were pulled right open, and rare October sunlight spilled in, casting pools of gleaming color along the floors, sofas, and walls. There were racks upon racks, twelve to be exact, filled with different outfits: dresses, suits, bodysuits, skirts, jeans, pajamas, all strewn along the place, blocking your view of the TV, as well as both of the doors that led into the kitchen and the hallway. You figured this was a strategic choice, in case anyone tried to escape.

The twelve of you stood awkwardly in the center of the room whilst the admins sat on the sofas, surrounded by lights and cameras.

You were not ready for the action.

“What the hell are all of these for?” Clockwork asked. She was hidden in an oversized grey hoodie with the words ‘Casse Toi’ written on it.

“Photoshoots!” Candypop grinned. They were all in a good mood today, even Laughing Jack was busying himself humming and sorting through what you assumed to be your choices of outfit. If he remembered the conversation you both had last night, he didn’t let on,

“Photoshoots.” Tim crossed his arms, “We’re doing… photoshoots.”

“Yep!” Candypop nodded, pretending not to notice the way Tim looked over at Brian with disgust,, “We’ll start in a moment, we need to get some things from the bus,” he hummed, as the five of them disappeared.

You heard Tim  mutter something along the lines of, ‘I’m twenty-six, and you’re making me do a photoshoot.”

You wanted to remind him that he was also being made to do trials that could potentially result in him starving to death or dying by dehydration, and, when you thought about it, a photoshoot was quite mild in comparison.

You would have said something snarky, but Clockwork was already on her feet, suddenly coming to life. You couldn't help but admire her commitment to the bit, because she had taken on the role of an overdramatic movie director, and was clapping to get everyone’s attention,

“And who will our first star of the day be?! Come one, come all candidates! Top-of-the-range photography here, special discount for YOU lucky eleven, for the small price of risking your LIVES in the trials, even though you never signed up for that-” she added in a lower voice, causing a few of you to snicker, “And the prize, you ask? Why, the WINNER gets to have THEIR portrait displayed on the walls of the Administration building! WOW!”

You, Ben, Toby, and the girls had already joined her in laughter, and you were posing dramatically in front of Ben, who had grabbed one of the cameras and was pretending to take shots of you in various different positions.

“Pose for us Liu! Oh, I’m SWOONING!” Ben cried, dramatically holding a hand to his forehead and pretending to swoon as Liu joined in striking different poses as though he were a model on the runway,

“OH, he’s a NATURAL!”

Kagekao suddenly appeared, right next o Ben, looming over his shoulder. You had no idea how he got there, but the combined sight of him and the sound of his voice was sudden enough to send Ben squealing and almost hitting the deck.

“Alright, cameras down!” Candypop playfully rolled his eyes as the others came in, grabbing the camera from Ben’s hands like he was a reluctant child and setting it back down on the sofa,

“Time to get dressed!”

///

And that’s how you ended up in what you could only call funeral parlor couture.

You were wearing a button-up shirt with lace cuffs, with a thin red ribbon tied nearly around the collar, as well as a black lacy skirt, and platform boots.

“I’m kinda fucking with the hat, not gonna lie,” Ben said, checking himself out in the light of the tv screen. He was dressed in all green- a tunic and matching bottoms and his usual messy hair looked somewhat well-groomed beneath the fabric of the hat.

“Not sure if I can relate…” Brian muttered, tossing the black hood-like material back and forth in his two hands.

You all looked like absolute freaks (affectionate). The Administration wasn’t fucking around when they said they’d be creative about the whole thing. You wondered if they had all got together and done mushrooms before coming up with these ideas.

“Oh, he’s working that scarf!” Clockwork called over, “Give us a spin Liu!”

Liu, who you had all just accepted as the model for the day, played along, sending an overdramatic spin her way, his green eyes shining with his laughter. They had given him a thick black and grey scarf to layer over a black trenchcoat, and you weren’t gonna lie, he WAS making it work.

“Nothing compared to your coat!” he joked back over at Clockwork, who was dressed in a plain white tank top, a pair of jeans, boots, and a huge, oversized green coat with a fur hood. She flipped him off in response,

“My coat is sexy thank you very much!”

“Okay, but can we admit that Nina’s the favorite?” Jane leaned on her palm, looking up at Nina as if she herself didn’t look drop-dead gorgeous in her black dress and fishnets.

Nina blushed pink and giggled softly, and you actually had to agree with Jane. The Admin matched her outfit to her vibe- with her usual colorful bracelets dawning her arms, as well as the same striped socks you had seen her wear on occasion before. She was dressed in a purple jacket, and a frilly skirt, and her hair was tied back with a large red bow. She looked mesmerizing.

“Oh, we’ve also decided,” Andromeda pointed between Tim and Brian, who had both been given masks and nothing else, “The two of you are being broadcast as a pair, don’t worry about the details, we’ll make those- but we wanna see how it’ll look if the two of you are put together,”

You wanted to say that was kinda twisted. They were clearly using it to play on the nation's emotions. When they were eventually separated during the trials, it would either pit them against each other or force the nation to favor the two of them.

“T-that’s not fair?” Toby spoke up, “W-on’t it create bias?”

“It will have no effect on you guys,” Laughing Jack shook his head, “It is merely to assess the nation's responses,”

All of you looked disheartened,

“Trust us when we say it won’t affect anything whatsoever,” Andromeda reassured, “You won’t even have to act like best friends or anything, this is just a heads up we’ve run the tests, and we’re sure it won’t affect anything outside what we’re looking to test,”

“Which is the Nation’s emotions?” Tim asked, disbelievingly,

“Exactly-” Candypop nodded, “It’s a psychological thing, you guys don’t need to think about it too much,”

You were definitely gonna think about it too much.

“It’s kinda like One Direction on X factor-” Ben suggested, earning two separate glares from Tim and Brian, “You could be Niall, and-”

Tim huffed, turning to Laughing Jack, “So we’ll be doing everything together then? As a team?”

You knew he was hinting toward the trials themselves. If the two of them were being marketed as a pair, would that mean they’d be completing the trials together?

“Nope, everything will remain the same. As I said, we’re playing on their heartstrings, giving them a little more entertainment, that is all. No more, no less, enough of the conversation until tomorrow, today is reserved for costumes only,” he said, turning to Helen to examine his mask.

/////

You had no idea what you were doing, but you’d die before you complained about it.

Somewhere along the night, Ben and Toby had convinced the Admin to let you keep your final costumes, as well as a box of props that weren’t gonna be used, and reluctantly, the admins agreed, on the condition that if anything got ruined, or creased in the slightest, they would openly refuse to bring you to the interview and therefore leave you for dead.

But they said it while smiling, so you knew they were bluffing.

They left around 9 p.m., and not long after that, Jane and Clockwork appeared with at least ten bags filled with different liquor in their hands,

“How the hell did you…?” Nina asked, dumbfounded,

“Kagekao,” Jane only smiled, “I convinced him, just for tonight- it wasn't hard to get him to agree as long as we let him have two bottles,” she snorted, “I figured we’d need it, with all this training,”

“Have I ever told you that you’re an angel, Jane Arkensaw?” Ben dramatically held a hand to his heart.

And that’s how you ended up in your kitchen, pouring mixers and trying to make cocktails with your candidates- now housemates- getting tipsier by the second and laughing your way through mojitos and daiquiris.

“Jack,” Ben span around, holding onto the counter for balance,

Jack had been standing with his hands on your waist whilst you poured some vodka into a glass of cranberry juice for Nina, both of you joking and laughing while he tried to throw you off finding the perfect mix.

Ever since the Admin left, he was making up for lost time and touches like there was no tomorrow. You definitely weren’t complaining.

“Go get your Polaroid camera,” Ben coaxed

Jack looked at him as though to say ‘Are you kidding me right now my hot situationship is literally standing in my arms and you’re asking me to get you my camera’,

“It’s important, cmon just go do it,” Ben urged him as Toby clapped along, likely the drunkest out of the lot of you, beginning to chant ‘DO IT DO IT DO IT!” over and over, until Jack relented and bid you goodbye with a kiss to your temple, soon returning with a large, 80s style camera and tossing it to Ben before wrapping his arms back around your waist again,

“And now…” Ben began, holding it up to his blood-red eye and spinning around to face Toby,

“Toby Rogers SHOW THEM HOW IT'S DONE!” he grinned, pointing the lens to Toby, who was still in his luminous orange goggles and mouthguard

“LE-MME GET INTO POSITION WAIT!” he threw his hands in front of his face, being hounded by Ben as he scrambled to get into position. He hopped in the center of the living room and gave what you presumed to be a smile, but with the mouthguard and goggles on, you couldn't make out much more than his nose,

“A MODEL! A TRENDSETTER! ORANGE HAS NEVER LOOKED SO GOOD!”

You wondered if Ben ever considered hosting weddings because his charisma and volume control were seriously fit for it.

You necked back two shots, keeping your arm wrapped around Jack’s neck, partially to stop you from falling over and partially because he smelled so damn good, and you had this thing where you needed to be as close to him as humanly possible or else you might die.

By 11 p.m., everyone had moved to the living room, and Nina had put on her speaker. Ben had immediately requested Abba, much to the disgrace of Tim. Of course, he hated ABBA. That was such a Tim thing to hate.

The night was in full swing. Even Jeff had shown up. He was standing at the window talking to Helen, who had been chainsmoking and kept accidentally locking eyes with you all night. Sure, you were pretty focused on Jack right now, but Helen’s eyes were still jaw-droppingly beautiful. Sue you for being observant.

SOS was currently blaring throughout the mansion, whilst Ben rushed around trying to salvage as many pictures as he could in his drunken state. Polaroids scattered the floorboards by the second, as the more drunken you all got, the more exciting the idea of taking pictures felt.

“And the newfound DUO-” he span again, turning to Tim and Brian, “WHAT ABOUT THAT FOR A PLOT TWIST? MASKS ON BOYS,”

Tim flipped him off and stormed into the kitchen, and you heard the slam of the back door. Brian, however, laughed and obliged, and the snapping of the camera filled the room once more.

You and Jack were sat on the sofa. You were on his lap, and he was kissing your shoulder every few seconds and glaring off any guy who asked you if you needed a refill or wanted to ask you something about the house. Jane, Clockwork, Nina, and Liu were all bunched onto the same sofa next to the two of you, currently cheering on Liu, who managed to down two beers in the span of 45 seconds.

You were buzzing with the alcohol in your veins and of how much fun you were having right now. For the first time in days, you felt like you had nothing to worry about. No interviews, no getting in trouble with the admin, no ZALGO. If you could stay in this feeling of contentedness forever, you would.

“Okay okay let me get my ladies! Liu, Jack, get out of this one it’s for the girls!” Ben continued, and you laughed at Toby calling a “Female empowerment!” from his spot on the floor.

Jack reluctantly let you go, and you all bunched together and threw up different forms of peace signs, practically entangling your limbs together with drunken giggles and touches. At the last second, Liu jumped up behind you all, throwing up bunny ears over you and Jane’s heads, and then ran off laughing when Ben playfully scolded him,

At about 2 in the morning, your vision was blurry, and you were pretty sure you were gonna have the worst hangover of your life tomorrow morning. The living room was scattered- scattered being an understatement- it was flooded with empty cans and bottles and polaroids, so much so that it was a challenge trying to walk without sending something flying across the floor or almost smashing something.

You were now laying on the sofa, head in Jack’s lap, and the two of you were watching Clockwork and Ben sing the worst rendition of ‘Live While We’re Young’ you had ever heard. You felt the distant need to call one direction up and apologize to them on their behalf.

“They are… beyond shit…” Liu groaned his hands in his hair. He was sitting on the floor in front of you, hunched over and cradling his head in his hands. It took all of three seconds before he disappeared, skyrocketing to the bathroom to throw up. His hangover was about to be a bitch.

“You’re cozy…” you mumbled up to Jack, who was stroking your hair.

“Am I?” he cooed, handing you another drink, and despite the fact you were literally seeing stars, you took it, “Maybe you should come upstairs and show me how cozy I am…?”

You were about to take him up on that offer, when all of a sudden, you were on the cold tiles of a bathroom floor, head throbbing and hands shaking so hard you couldn’t even get on all fours.

You had no idea what just happened, or where the actual fuck you were, cus it sure as hell wasn’t your own bathroom.

I mean, technically, all the bathrooms here were yours, but you get the jist.

It took you a while to pull yourself up and actually maintain a standing position without hitting the deck again, but eventually, you managed.

Now all you had to do was find out who the fuck owned this room and get the hell out of there.

Hopefully, it was one of the girls. That made sense. You were probably blackout and accidentally went to the wrong room on your way home. Happened all the time.

But you knew, by the tan-colored jacket hanging on the bathroom door, that it wasn’t that easy.

Fuck. This was Tim’s room. 

Chapter Text

You could hear nothing, except for the heartbeat rattling in your chest, and heavy footsteps on the other side of the door.

Fuck. Shit.

This was bad.

First of all, let’s talk about your memory loss. You had no idea how you got here. One minute, you were getting ready to go up and have your brains fucked out by Jack. The next, you were here- cold and shivering, on Tim’s- TIM’S- bathroom floor. Whatever you were drinking last night was officially blacklisted forever.

Second of all, you had absolutely no idea what time it was, and your neck was supporting one of the worst pains you'd ever felt. Your phone was long gone, probably lost down the back of the sofa or somewhere just as weird. It was still dark outside though- the trees were blowing gently outside his bathroom window, and the night sky looked like the other end of a portal from the fluorescent bathroom walls.

Third of all- Tim was out there, right now, on the other side of the door.

You could hear him humming under his breath, and the sound of it made you pause your list of everything that was fucked up right now. That was strange to hear. Music was one of the many good things about the world you had listed under ‘Things I Wouldn’t Associate With Tim’.

Yet here he was, humming a tune and snapping you from your brief state of confusion and panic.

You tapped your thighs repeatedly, stretching out your neck and trying to think of the best course of action. Distant memories flooded your mind from last night- lying on Jack’s lap, Ben singing, polaroids upon polaroids. You briefly remember somewhere along the night, looking at the time and noting it was past 1 a.m. This meant that by now, it was probably around 3 in the morning.

On that line of assumptions, it meant that Tim was probably about to get ready for bed, meaning he would need into the bathroom.

Meaning that you had to either get your ass out of there now or wait til he found you himself.

The sounds of rummaging in the drawers only made you stress out more. Any second now, he’d be pulling open the bathroom door. Your pride and dignity were both too high to give him the upper hand like that.

The kick drum pounding in your head did not help the situation, and you figured you had to just get it over with, embarrassment be damned.

This was humiliating beyond degree. If you thought the most embarrassing moment of these trials would be looking like an idiot in front of Helen that one time two weeks ago, you clearly had no idea what right now was demanding from you.

Okay, you were thinking about this way too much. You just had to face it.

You wrapped your hand around the door handle, and within the next millisecond, flung it open before you could let embarrassment stop you, trying to hold whatever was left of your dignity in your expression.

You stood there in the doorway, and Tim’s head swung around like he’d just had whiplash, piercing blue eyes meeting yours.

And he was shirtless.

You blinked.

He blinked.

His eyes narrowed.

You were as good as dead.

“Look, Tim-” you started, deliberately keeping your eyes glued to his face.

Don’t you dare look down, y/n, don’t you dare move your fucking head.

His voice was shriller than you ever heard, and you noticed by the sudden widening of his eyes that you had DEFINITELY scared the shit out of him.

“What the fuck-” he practically yelled. Oh my god, he literally did not care that he was shirtless right now. Okay.

"-are you doing in my room?!”

You couldn’t, for the life of you, bite your tongue,

“Okay, well technically it’s my room,”

He squinted his eyes, “Don’t be a smartass right now Y/N,” he said, "Seriously, what is going on?!"

He was shouting down at you, and you were suddenly cautious that half of the mansion might wake up and hear the two of you screaming at each other in the middle of the night.

“Shut up oh my god, stop screaming! I have no idea how I ended up here,” you blurted out, still keeping your eyes glued to his face- not his chest. Definitely not his chest.

“Bullshit, what the fuck were you doing in there?!”

Why couldn’t he just put a shirt on? He wasn’t distracting. No way was he distracting! Sure, okay, his chest was… definitely not the worst to look at. Whatever, not that you were looking in the first place. It was just THERE. Right in front of you!

“Are you seriously fucking braindead?!" he clicked his fingers in your face, voice still ringing louder than you'd ever heard it, snapping you out of your thoughts, “My eyes are up here, asshole,”

Eyes. Shit. Yes.

You ignored how scarlet your cheeks were at the insinuation that you had been staring at his chest on purpose like that, but you ignored it and cleared your throat, “Tim, I mean it I swear it’s not that deep,” you groaned, “I was fucking drunk okay…? I have a raging headache, and it’s like 3 am, can we just talk it out tomorrow?”

In your eyes, Tim had something to complain about literally twenty-four hours, seven days a week. You figured by tomorrow, he’d have another thing to tear you apart over. You were getting used to his wrath, if that’s what you could even call it, and the last thing you needed right now was a lecture.

“It’s 6 a.m.,”  he corrected.

Six? Fuck… that means you were there all night. No wonder your neck was killing you.

“6 am…?” you asked, casting the argument aside for a moment, “Are you sure?”

He scoffed, looking at the ceiling, tongue pressed against his cheek like he was forcing himself not to kill you there and then. His cocky expression only annoyed you more than his refusal to be civilized already was.

“What?!” you snapped,

“What?” he repeated, eerily calm, meeting your eyes again, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing together, “You’re asking ME what? You, who just crawled out of my bathroom at six in the damn morning, are asking ME what?!"

You supposed he did have a point. Like hell you were gonna admit that though.

“Oh please, you are SO up your own ass,! you rolled your eyes, now matching his volume, “You’re acting like I did it on PURPOSE!”

He opened his mouth, and then sucked his teeth,  his voice remaining level like he wasn't just projecting it all over the fucking house, “We have class in two hours, and you smell like a goddamn mini bar,” he hissed, “How you can even call yourself The Operator’s daughter is astonishing,”

The word was beautiful, but he said it like a slur. You could have flinched. You hated having your dad brought into things like this. Things that made you seem like a disappointment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you shot back defensively, crossing your arms. You had to tilt your head up to meet his, but the size difference didn’t make you back up. If anything, you took a step closer, just to show him you weren’t scared of what he had to say to you.

“Oh come on, Y/N,” he snarled, “You sit around here and act like you aren’t anything special- like you couldn’t take every single one of us down,”

Again, words that, had they come from anyone else, would have made you blush, but coming from him sliced open your skin like tiny hot knives.

“That day during class, when I pinned you down on the mat? Don’t act like you didn’t let me win,”  he snarled. clearly, he had been thinking about this.

You wanted to correct him. You really didn’t let him win, but you couldn't deny it was down to the fact you barely tried. Had you actually given it your all, you knew, deep down, you could overpower him.

You also knew it was the same for the majority of the others. You didn’t try, and as a consequence, never gave them a fair fight.

“I know your ways- you think you can keep it subtle? Yeah, well you can’t,” he continued, fists clenched, “Acting like you can just blend in with the rest of us like you weren’t born and bred to be adored by the Nation,”

“Miss Operator’s daughter doesn’t NEED to try,” he seethed, “Miss Operator’s daughter never had to work a day in her life, so why start now? Miss Operator’s daughter knows everything’s gonna work out for her anyways, so she doesn’t lift a damn finger-”

“Shut up, Tim,” you shook your head. He was seriously getting under your skin, “You have no clue what you’re talking about,”

But he did. Fuck him for it, but he did. Sure, you were unmotivated. You never wanted to win the trials in the first place, so you decided not to try. But even if you did- even if you gave it your all and still failed- you knew it wouldn’t matter, because you’d be set for life. You’d still have your dad, his money, and all the fancy benefits of the Nation.

Part of you knew you didn’t work because you knew you didn’t have to work.

You were lazy. To put it simply.

“You know you’re good-” he said, looking down at you like you were the very bane of his existence, “That’s the thing, you know it- you were raised knowing it, being educated, trained, prepped and preened into the perfect little Operator. This is just child’s play to you, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here- in my bathroom, blackout drunk and acting like a waster... because you CAN-”

“Tim, I fucking mean what I said, shut the hell up-” Your breath was hitched now, and the anger was bubbling throughout your entire body. Suddenly, you were hyperaware of the dried alcohol in your hair.

“You don’t care about these trials, do you, Y/N?” he shook his head, a patronizing smirk on his face, “No, you don’t really give a single fuck, do you? You’re just here because you have to be-” he said, each word nastier than the last, “You have no clue what it’s like for the rest of us- for these trials to be your only hope at making a life for yourself, who have NOTHING out there to go back to, no, you were born with everything- so why should you want more?”

“I said shut up!” you snapped, or rather shouted, back up to him. By now you were absolutely seething, trying to steady your breath, “Don’t you ever… ever dare try and tell me who I am in my own fucking house!”

“Oh, I’m not trying to tell you,”  There was that patronizing tone again, “You already know,”

He spoke again before you could retaliate,

“Well, I hope it pays off princess, now get the fuck out of my room, I need to get dressed for class,”

You slammed the door before he could even look over at you again.

////

He had just read you, cover by cover, in words and languages you couldn’t even speak yourself.

You had convinced yourself for so long that you weren’t going to try to win these trials as a way of oppressing the laws of the land, but now you really thought about it, by doing that, you were only adding to the problem.

You thought about the diversion- the lives of the innocent that were lost, and the many more that were about to come.

And you, or whoever became The next Operator, could put a stop to it. Whoever took that title from your dad had power like no other, and could wield it in a way which could end all of it- the fighting, the bitterness, the bloodshed, forever.

What you were giving right now- this lackluster, careless attitude, this method of standing in Tim’s bedroom at six in the morning, hungover and pathetic- was only adding to the current problem, which all in all, stemmed from the ignorance of the government.

Well, like it or not, you were part of that government, doing exactly the thing you always condemned them for. A hypocrite, through and through.

You were turning into the very thing you always hated. An ignorant person who had the power to change everything, just by trying.

And you thought about what he said- about the others. You imagined them, going home to nothing, having no support from the same system that worshipped you. You thought about the inequality of it all and the idea of any of your housemates living in a place that could not be titled 'home' was enough to send waves of sadness through your body.

And here you were, abusing your position.

If you won these trials and became The Operator, you could put change into motion. That erasure of wars and buildup of community. You would have all the power in the world to promote it.

And fuck, you hated him. You hated Tim so much. He was a stuck-up, downright rude person who walked all over people at every time of day. He only cared for himself, and he only got pleasure out of provoking others- mainly you.

But you knew he was right.

He was right about you sitting on your ass, waiting on the world to change for you. You thought about it- The Standard Ability Assessment- when you had let yourself look at Jack instead of even coming up with a plan.

You wondered what you would have scored had you actually put some effort in, instead of just throwing the scissors, knowing they’d land.

You thought about what the others were thinking about you.

You thought about how you thought about yourself.

You had too many thoughts for a girl with a raging headache and neck pain, so you tried to stifle them in the shower.

It didn’t work. If anything, it just pumped you up more. And then, a thought crossed your mind.

What if you did try?

The thought was fleeting. It was terrifying. It lasted all of four seconds, slipping in through the shower doors and dancing around your mind before flooding back down the drain.

You imagined it for a moment. Not the power, you didn't care about the power. But the changes you could make to the world.

You imagined a Nation with no bloodshed. A place where people didn’t have to slaughter others to make a living, to get by. You imagined beautiful cities and gardens and museums and love. You imagined a world where people felt safe, where happiness was a priority.

You realized that, on the off chance that you made it, that could happen.

All you would have to do was try.

But it was so terrifying that you almost forced yourself to commit to never thinking about it again. How horrifying was it? To try. To put all you had into something, knowing that there was a tiny chance it would get thrown back in your face. Knowing that it would all have been for nothing.

But then, you thought, the time would pass anyway. Whether you tried or not, you would still continue with the trials. You would still be here, in this mansion, doing the Nation interviews and going to classes. Your effort was variable, but your presence was not.

You forced yourself not to think about it for now. Not until you could afford to make that decision.

But the thoughts came back, later and louder, when you were curling your hair and doing your makeup, in different, alluring voices.

What if you did it to prove Tim wrong?

He hated you based on a rightful prejudice, that you were a spoiled brat who thought she deserved the world just because of her dad's status.

But what if you did? What if you gave him a fair fight, and he admitted defeat? What if you tried, and you beat him?

Adrenaline filled your veins at the mental image- of you, pinning Tim down on the combat mats the way he had done to you, beating him in every exam- seeing that wretched look of failure wash over his face.

He would regret ever calling you a waster again. He would be praying for you to go back to the person you are now, just so he could one-up you again.

The more you thought about it, the more you loved the idea of it.

Imagine earning your right to be here, just like the rest of them had. Imagine closing that gap between you all, feeling like a real equal in every sense of the word.

The energy within you was dancing around every crevice of your muscles, sending you into a spark-filled fantasy you never wanted to let go of.

Sure, maybe anticipating the possibility of you winning the trials was a little much to decide at 8 a.m. when you had spent the night on a cold bathroom floor, but getting the better of Tim?

That you could do.

Chapter Text

“Anyone else get completely obliterated last night?” Liu yawned, turning back to address you all from his seat at the front of the coach. Korbyn, the driver who had been taking you to and from the Admin building ever since your first day, was busy doing routine checks around the mansion grounds before you headed off for class.

This was a new rule put in place by the Admin and had come about after the murder of the civilians. Whoever was on duty- them or Korbyn, would scour the place for any potential dangers or threats to your lives.

Better safe than sorry, you guessed.

You raised your hand with a laugh at Liu’s question, half-tempted to gauge Tim’s reaction, just in case he happened to have one. You figured you both could agree on the fact that last night was the worst you’d ever looked.

You scanned your eyes in his direction, only to find that he did not have a reaction. He wasn't even looking your way. What a boring asshole.

You reminded yourself that his reaction to you beating him would make up for that, and every other little annoyance he threw in your face.

To your surprise, a few of the others also raised their hands.

“I ended up in her room,” Nina pointed to Jane, her face pink with embarrassment, “With no shirt on and puke in my hair-”

Those around you laughed, and you noticed Helen cringe at the mental image of her covered in puke.

Okay, Mr. Skilled-in-Mutilations.

“Whatever Kagekao drinks is some dangerous stuff-” Liu laughed, turning to you, “What happened to you last night, Y/N?”

You noticed a sudden rise in tension from right next to you… where Jack was sitting.

Considering the Admin couldn’t see inside the bus, and they had no proof of you guys doing anything that wasn’t permitted, you decided to spend the ride together. What were they gonna do? Kill you for sitting next to each other?

The rise in tension was expected, but still offered room for confusion. Ever since you and Jack first slept together, you noticed a big change in his demeanor, particularly whenever other guys approached you.

What was once a coolness had turned to coldness, and he spent most of his time by your side, rigid as a guard dog.

You had tried to gently remind him that you were your own person, and he didn't need to be threatened by other men. Sure, at the right times, it was hot. But at the wrong times, it pissed you off a little. It made you feel like you NEEDED protection- like you weren’t strong enough to do it yourself.

But he had none of it.

“I don’t like sharing…” he tried to joke when you brought it up to him after he practically growled at Brian for offering you a cookie. You wanted to tell him it really wasn’t that serious, but there was no talking to him.

“I could kill all of them, ya know…” he had joked again after Toby made you laugh with one of his endlessly hilarious stories. The more you thought about it, though, the less it seemed like a joke and the more it seemed like a threat. But as you chastised him, he only apologized with millions of kisses that peppered your skin, and buttered you up with praises til you forgot your own name, let alone the empty threats he had made to your housemates.

He was as possessive as they came, and despite your endless attraction to him, as well as your budding feelings, you couldn't help but deny the way it put you on edge.

He was, after all, one of the most ruthless killers the Nation could offer. Who knows what he was capable of?

You still didn't know whether that thought terrified you or turned you on.

Right now, he was sitting up straight, glaring daggers at Liu. For a guy with no eyes, he sure was emotive. You noticed his fists clench.

You rolled your eyes.

But then you remembered what DID happen to you last night. Flashbacks of Tim’s bathroom paralyzed your mind for the 500th time that morning.

Yeah, because that would go down well with Jack.

“Honestly, cannot remember-” you laughed off, and thankfully, no one questioned it. In fact, Jack only aided the cause, because, in his need to get Liu’s attention off of you, he had diverted the conversation.

“Me either-” he said, resting his head on your shoulder.

So much for keeping your thing lowkey.

“Sa-ame…” Toby chipped in, leaning his forehead on the cool window pane, before telling you guys about how he had ended up stumbling blindly through one of the hallways at 4 a.m.

You were glad it wasn’t just you who got fucked up last night.

///

“Alright candidates let’s go let’s go!” Candypop whistled, clapping his hands as you all took your places in the freezing gymnasium, six of you on either side of him in your respective teams- red and blue, “You know the drill!”

You did know the drill. You had been taking these classes for a month now, and each time, it was the same. You would split into your teams and apply new skills in order to take the opposing team down.

Today, you were finally allowed to use weapons.

“Don’t think this means you can kill each other-” Candypop warned, and you all smiled knowingly at each other. You had reached the point now where you simply couldn’t murder one another, even if you wanted to. It would kinda be like betraying your own species. Sure, you wanted to wrangle Tim, but you no longer wanted him to genuinely get hit by a double-decker bus and end up liquidized on the street. Times had changed.

Clockwork and Jeff were first up, and were currently sparring it out. By the looks of it, Jeff was winning. You had never seen him so comfortable than right now, when he had a kitchen knife gripped in his right hand.

“Come on Clockwork beat the fucking shit out of him!” Jane called as Clockwork tried to whack him with the brunt of one of her two long, serrated knives.

If she was anything, she was unyielding.

“If that touches me I’ll fucking cut you-” Jeff hissed, his voice low and intimidating, “I mean it, that fucking wood touches me and I will slit your arm open just in time for these interviews, you Clock-eyed bitch,”

She was also petty.

The brunt of the knife hit Jeff so hard in the temple that he had no choice but to topple off her, and the two of them spent some time using brute force before she was down again, his forearm to her throat and knife to her torso.

“She yields,” Candypop immediately called out, and Jeff rose to his feet triumphantly. Clockwork flipped him off with both of her middle fingers before climbing to stand.

“The fuck I do yield,” she muttered to you and Brian, “I’m gonna shave his fucking eyebrows off in the middle of the night,”

You laughed, and Candypop cleared his throat again,

“Y/N and Liu, you’re up”

You were kinda annoyed you weren’t fighting Tim today. That was what your entire pep talk had been about this morning, but at least he was there to actually see you win something.

As long as he could see you were something more than a spoiled, lazy brat, that counted for something. Then, when you finally took him down, it meant he would have failed even with preparation, which would be even more satisfying.

“Ready to die, Y/N?” Liu asked, tone playful as he reached a scarred hand out for you to shake. Liu was a good sport, unlike his brother, who was making a point not to pay attention to your match.

“Nah,” you joked back, clasping his hand to shake, “Save a seat for me in the Underworld though,”

He came at you with one hand, wielding his own knife in the other, and attempted to trip you up just like Jack had on your first day of defense classes.

Little did he know, you actually gave a fuck now.

You dodged his blow, and landed on your feet, ducking away from the next two attacks before beginning to land your own punches. You had one pair of scissors in your right hand, and the other stored in your back pocket.

You weren’t allowed to kill, but you were encouraged to use your weapons. You hoped he would forgive you for what you were about to do.

The two of you continued for a while longer, and you led him into a false security of thinking you had nothing else to offer but upper-cuts and dodges and a few roundhouse kicks, whilst taking your time to memorize his pattern of movement- two punches and a side-step.

And then you struck.

Just when he pulled his hand back to pack in another punch, you caught his wrist.

This was about to get interesting.

His eyes widened in shock, which was exactly what you were hoping for. You pulled up your left hand and used your scissors to snip through the stitches lacing up the skin on his wrist.

You felt like your entire soul was on fire. The gymnasium was silent. The only sounds that could be heard were your deep breathing and Liu’s pained winces.

The move required precision and speed, and you excelled.

Before you knew it, his momentum was lost, and you had him pinned down.

You did it.

You just won.

“AND FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER,” Candypop announced, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn't quite place your finger on, “MISS Y/N IS OUR WINNER!”

You tried. You won.

Holy shit.

“THATS OUR FUCKING GIRL!” Clockwork called with a wolf whistle in your direction, Jane and Nina cheering you on from next to her. Ben was applauding you, calling in his own variations of congratulations.

He wasn’t even on your team. He was just happy for you.

But the real joy in all of it was locking eyes with Tim, who looked just as shocked as you.

///

“Karma,” You said, waves in the form of amusement and uncertainty crashing through your tone.

“Karma!” Andromeda showcased, her hands flicking in front of her like she had just pitched the best idea in business.

You had been called to a meeting with her to decide on your official candidate title, which was kinda like a stage name for the Operator trials. Apparently, all the major names had one. For example, Laughing Jack was Jack’s, Kagekao was… whatever Kagekao’s real name was.

You had just found out your dad’s was Slenderman.

That was pretty much the worst one out there. Slenderman? Everything about it was wrong in every sense of the word. You reminded yourself to make fun of him for it later.

So far you had been through Scissor-girl, Twin Blades, The Snipper, and worst of all, Slender Girl.

Karma was the best one you had heard by miles. It had a nice ring to it, the more you mulled it over.

“Ya know what,” you said, “I like it,”

///

“Clockwork,” Andromeda nodded, “Couldn’t have put it better myself... The Bloody Painter- creative, fitting,... Eyeless Jack, I like it-”

She was currently reading off the titles of those who had chosen their own without any assistance, and helping those who hadn’t come up with theirs.

You were in a good mood, considering you were happy with yours, and you had just heard Tim’s, which had been pre-chosen by the Admin on the basis that it had to match with Brian to “really sell their two-piece”.

And his was Masky.

Of all the most cringe-worthy names in the world.

Masky.

You swore someone up there was on your side. It made your week.

Brian had Hoodie, which was just as bad, but you actually liked Brian, so you could see past it.

“Ticci Toby…” Andromeda hummed, glancing up to Toby with concern in her eyes, who blankly looked up at her from where he was sitting,

“Are you sure, Toby, isn’t this a little-”

“Self-dep-deprecating…?” he twitched, “Nah, i-if I call m-myse…self if, it means as-assholes like Tim don’t g-get to call me it behind my back,” he said.

Your admiration for Toby grew daily.

Andromeda nodded in understanding and continued down the list.

“Ben Drowned…?” she asked him, tilting her head,

“My biggest fear is drowning,” Ben explained with a grin on his face, “So like, I think it’d be funny cus like, it makes a sentence. Like, 'Oh fuck guys! Ben Drowned!”' he acted out with a gasp, “And I’d be like, 'That's my name don’t wear it out'… plus, it sounds cool as hell,”

A chorus of laughter echoed through you all. No one, not even Zaglo himself, could predict Ben.

Andromeda looked like she wanted to debate it, but he was so sure of himself that she let it go with an “Okay…” before continuing down the list.

There were a few seconds of silence, and you watched her click her tongue, close her eyes, and sigh, before speaking,

“Jeff The Killer.”

“Yep,” he popped the ‘p’, crossing his arms and looking up at her defiantly,

“Jeff…. I don’t know how much more I can ask for you to take these trials seriously,”

She was exasperated, massaging her temples as Jeff stared up at her with the expression of a disobedient child taking joy in acting out,

“You can’t call yourself Jeff The Killer-” she shook her head, “The nation is gonna think you’re a laughing stock, you have no idea what they’re like out there-”

There was a glimmer of concern in her eyes, but if Jeff noticed, he didn’t let on.

A chorus of muffled laughter echoed through the small classroom, and Andromeda sent a death-imposing look to the perpetrators,

“Please don’t edge him on,” she begged

If Jeff’s main strength lay in wielding a blade, his second lay in annoying Andromeda. You wouldnt be too shocked if he decided on the name solely to get a rise out of her.

Mutters filled the room again, everyone cracking different jokes about how shitty it was, while Jeff leaned back and drank it up like that was the intended effect all along. It was almost as if he wanted to fuck himself over.

Andromeda tried to quieten you all again, but it was Liu who cut through your voices like a knife.

Liu, as you knew, was typically mild-mannered. He got on well with everyone, no matter their history, no matter their place. He didn't argue, he always tried to keep the peace. He was the opposite of Jeff in every sense of the world.

Yet here he was, eyebrows furrowed, scowling down at him,

“Stop being a fucking tool and pick a better name,”

You had never seen him angry until now. Sure, you had noticed the two of them arguing out of the corner of your eye, but you had always averted your gaze in the name of their own privacy. It was no secret that they were brothers with a very long, very deep-rooted history. You had no place in it.

No one spoke to Jeff like that, not even the Admin. Jeff was rough, and hot-tempered, and known for lashing out violently at anyone and anything that crossed his very thin boundaries.

But Liu was his brother. The boundaries were different.

“What did you just say to me?” he snarled, turning around and raising to his feet.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Andromeda huffed, sitting back in her spinny chair and folding her arms in annoyance, “Guys, now is not the time to-”

“Shut up” Jeff shot in her direction, and she only rolled her eyes, but kept her mouth shut.

“I said stop being a damn tool and pick a better name,” Liu argued.

“As if your name isn’t literally LIU-” Jeff mocked with a scoff.

You pursed your lips and avoided catching Clockwork’s gaze, knowing that if you did, you wouldn't be able to hold in your cackles. Who would have thought Jeff would have such terrible comebacks?

“Okay, Jeffrey Alan Gerard Woods,” Liu said flatly, and before he could even finish his sentence or any of you could even titter at Jeff’s full government name, he was across the room in seconds, his chair knocked onto the floor and his hand wrapped round Liu’s throat.

“YO-” Andromeda shot up, her eyes wide, pointing a very sharp, pale pink fingernail in Jeff’s direction, “I will get security in here if you don’t sit your ass back down in the next three seconds-”

There was silence, but he obeyed, pulling his chair back and huffing down into it.

But the course you had begun on had gone way off track, and by now, everyone was feeling humorous.

“In that case, I think I’ll choose Homicidal Liu,” Liu shrugged, smirking knowingly. Clearly, he was mocking Jeff without directly saying it out loud, and Jeff just didn’t seem smart enough to catch on.

“You can’t take my thing!” He furrowed his eyebrows, gesturing to Andromeda as if to tell her to do something about it, “Tell him he can’t take my thing!”

But she was already pissed off enough at him,

“I’m not his mom,” she shrugged, “He can do what he wants,”

“In that case, can I be Jane the Killer?” Jane asked, leaning over her chair with a grin, “I actually do wanna steal his thing, just so I can be better at it than he is-”

“Me too-” Nina chirped. The two of them had been frequent victims of Jeff’s harassment. They deserved to be petty.

You could imagine it. Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, and Nina the Killer. The first one having been the first to choose the title, but the other two more talented, skilled, and popular than he was.

You could laugh at the mental image of it.

You loved them for their pettiness.

“Ya know what, sounds great girls-” Andromeda grinned. It seemed she was on board with their schemes. Jeff looked like he had just been slapped across the face three times in a row, and then another for good measure. When all of you were excused, he followed Andromeda down the hall, hurling complaints like bullets at her.

//////

“Fuck… Y/N…”

If you thought we were done with the whole ‘making-out-with-Jack-in-the-hallway-after-hours thing, you were dead wrong.

It was three a.m., and after a late night talk about the events of today at the kitchen table, you somehow ended up on the counter, legs wrapped around his waist and lips glued to his.

“You taste so sweet…” he hummed,

“Apple flavored lipgloss,” you smirked into him, and he squeezed your ass in what you assumed to be approval. You wondered if he knew what apples actually tasted like.

Well, now he did.

Everyone else was in bed, thankfully, so there was actually no chance of you being caught. But there was something about it- the potential- of someone catching you in the act that made the whole thing twice as fun.

However, your little moment only lasted as long as it took for you to be lifted into the air, the two of you squeezing, moaning, and intending on making it upstairs into his room for another night together. Through all of the energy, you could barely make out the first ring of the telephone in the center of the living room.

The red, old-fashioned telephone, that only the Admin had access to.

“Is that…?” you tore your mouth from his, and he continued working down your neck, tongue swirling and leaving you shuddering as you heard the second ring.

By the third, you were already halfway down the hallway, and he was following you like a needy puppy.

“C’mon Y/N… ignore it…” he whined, but you were too far gone to go back now.

No, because if it was ringing at three in the morning, something was up.

“I have to answer it Jack-” you shooed him away, pressing the receiver to your ear.

You regretted it immediately.

Your face paled in cold-blooded shock, and your heartbeat accelerated the moment the sinister voice on the other end began to talk, its smooth, yet deadly tone crooning to you so clearly on the opposite end that you could practically feel the point of his fingernails, tilting your head up to look at him when he was talking to you,

“Didn’t I give you a warning, Y/N?”

Chapter Text

You were in trouble. Big trouble.

In case you hadn’t yet established, you were in the top ten worst listeners in the entire Nation, particularly when doing something you loved.

Having sex with Jack was currently your favorite past-time. Join the dots.

The moment you put the phone down, you accepted your fate. You were a dead girl walking, and he was just as gone. Whether you continued kissing him, or decided to call it quits there and then, your punishment wouldn't change. Laughing Jack had seen you, in some way or another.

How he had seen you was a different question all together, but it was one you were going to address later.

Last night, you were only concerned with making this night the best you ever had with Jack.

On that note, you ended up fucking on every surface of his room, enough so that you knew he would never look at them the same again. Papers and clothes and furniture scattered the floor, and you could have sworn the headboard cracked at one stage.

You figured you might as well. You were at a point of no return right now when it came to being punished. The Nation Interviews were this week, and you were undeniably under surveillance by Laughing Jack. You were pretty sure that, as far as you and Jack were concerned, this was the end of the road.

And if this was the end, you were going out in style.

////

You were currently regretting going out in style.

You were sitting in Laughing Jack’s private quarters, located on the third floor of the Administration building, and you were filled with uncontrollable dread.

Last night, this punishment had felt so far away that you decided you’d just deal with it when the time came. Now the time had come, you were cursing your past self for being so damn inconsiderate.

The walls around you were pinstriped black-and-white, and the furniture was strange, yet fashionably shaped. For example, a monochrome merry-go-round horse statue stood in the corner of the room, and the ceiling itself gave you the illusion that you were in a grey-scale circus tent. The floor was decorated with hypnotic spirals in such vibrancies of ebony and snowy whites that your vision blurred when you looked at them for too long.

You were sitting on a huge, monochrome beanbag, feeling as though all of the colour in the world had been left at the door.

And then you heard his voice,

“ Y/N…”

Your stomach sank.

Laughing Jack had this rare talent with his voice, where he could alternate the pitch and tone depending on the message he wanted to convey. He could sound as though he were echoing inside every crevice of your mind with infectious cackles one second, and then send your body into a frozen stillness with his looming drawl the next.

You figured you wouldn’t be hearing much of his higher -pitched, friendly tone this morning.

He slowly made his way into the room, before slamming his palms harshly onto his desk. You squeaked at the sudden banging noise, and gazed, fear stricken, up at him.

Another thing with Laughing Jack was his terrifying unpredictability.

“Y/N… Y/N… Y/N…” he began, voice deep and dangerous, “You must think I operate no differently than a wind-up toy you can turn on and off whenever you please…”

You chose not to say anything, and avoided his piercing gaze, waiting on him to say more.

Instead, he slammed his hands on the desk again, the loud bang jerking your head up once more.

Your trust in the Administration had been wavering ever since the whole thing where they had lied through omission about the trials, but right now, you had never felt more unsafe.

His hand was in your hair before you could even register his movement, and he grabbed a fistful of it, your eyes meeting his huge, swirling pupils.

“You look at me when I’m talkin’ to you, you little brat…” he snarled, no fragment of niceties left in his system. All you could see in front of you was a clown from your nightmares: teeth bared, towering over you, claws sharp and eyes narrowed.

And he had you trapped.

“You think these rules are a game?” he growled, the grip on your hair growing tighter as you forced yourself to shake your head.

He repeated the question. You felt your body lift off the floor. He was holding you by the roots of your hair, so much so that you could feel some of them snapping out of your scalp. The pain was searing. Tears brimmed in your eyes.

You forced yourself to shake your head again.

“Answer me!” he barked. The pain was blinding.

He was fucking crazy.

“N-No…!” you cried out, tears falling down your cheeks as he dropped you again. You landed in a crumpled heap on the floor below him. The only thing that separated the two of you was the beanbag.

He kicked it aside, his lips curving into the most alarming smirk you had ever seen. There he stood, seven feet above you, wielding all the power in the world.

“You look so pathetic,” he spat, before crouching down to your level. You instinctively backed away from him, pulling your knees into your chest to avoid him hurting you anymore. You felt like a child, hiding from the monster in her closet. You didn’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed for how weak you seemed.

It must have struck something in him, because his tone changed as though he was talking to an actual child,  yet mocked you all the same,

“Poor little Operator’s daughter, crying like a baby because she got her hair pulled…” he cooed down to you, before outstretching his hand again.

You flinched, but instead of pulling your hair, he pet it.

The palm of his hand massaged the area of your scalp that burned and seethed with the pain he had caused, and the feeling of his warm fingers in your hair this time felt almost euphoric. It was an instant relief.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he almost whispered, now sitting in front of you cross-legged. His tremendous shadow lurked over your body, miniscule in comparison.

You nodded up to him, eyes still shining in terror, even more so when his clawed fingertip tilted your chin up to look at him.

“Ya know… if you were my little girl, I’d have you way better disciplined than this..” he hummed, using his thumb and pointer finger to gently squeeze your cheeks together, “You’re such a sweet thing… you didn’t mean to go actin’ like a slut, did ya?”

You couldn't distinguish if his tone was forgiving or threatening, so you stayed quiet. He forced your head either side, as though you were shaking it to say no.

He dropped your face from his grip, and you massaged it with your own fingers softly, watching as he returned to his original height, sighing as though making an incredibly hard decision,

“But…” he began, pouting again.

Your stomach sank. You didn't like where this was going.

“I already let you off on one warning, didn’t I? And didn’t you go and betray my trust anyway?” he ‘tch’ed, “Now kiddo, trust me when I say I don’t wanna hurt ya, but it’s the only way you’ll learn… rules are rules…”

You gulped, and his voice went cold,

“Now get up-"

Within seconds, you were stripped down to your underwear, standing shaking and freezing in front of him. He was sat on the couch- legs spread, leaning with long, pointy elbows on sharp knees. His face was twisted into a maniacal grin, and it sent a chill down your spine.

And then, he reached down and took off his belt.

“Now, the rules state that a whip is preferable, but I’ve decided to go easy on you…”

As if a belt was anything less painful.

Lashes were one of the most common, albeit one of the most outdated punishments for citizens who had stepped out of line. You thought they were illegal, and you knew they were now frowned upon by the majority of the nation, including your dad.

Apparently the Admin hadn’t got the message.

His huge hands circumferenced your waist, and span you around so you were facing away from him.

Fear filled your entire body, the anticipation rising by the second.

You winced when you felt something, and then relaxed a little when you realized it was only his fingers, pressing into the soft flesh on your thighs,

“Stay still kiddo…” he ordered, and you obeyed.

A loud snapping echoed off the walls as his belt lashed your bare thighs. You felt the burning first, and then the stinging. The searing, soaring sting of pain that coursed through your entire body and left you dizzy.

He continued, his hand holding your waist in place as the other whipped your legs, leaving what you were sure to be gashes over and over, each one worse than the last. With every one, you shrieked, and tears involuntarily rolled down your cheeks.

This had to be worse than hell.

It was over, thankfully, after thirteen aching cracks, and you could feel your thighs- swollen and throbbing- where the belt had struck.

“Think I’ve finally drilled some obedience into that little skull?” he asked you, ruffling your hair as though he hadn’t just whipped you within an inch of your life. He fixed your outfit and span you around again, catching you when you practically toppled over with the pain,

“You listening to me, Y/N? Very, very carefully?” his tone darkened again.

You nodded, now having no energy to even fathom a smartass response,

“You ever- and I mean EVER- disobey me like that again, and you’ll be locked up in a cage for two weeks, you understand me?”

You nodded,

His hand smacked down on your thighs, exactly where he had lashed, sending you flinching and gulping down the pain. You knew this meant he wanted a real answer, and so you choked out,

“I understand,”

and he let you go.

/////

The images of the morning replayed in your head all day. Him, pulling your hair. Him, talking down to you. Him, sending you out with a licorice-flavoured lollipop.

If you were wavering on your faith before, it was safe to say you had absolutely decided by now that they were untrustworthy to the core.

As for Jack, it seemed he got the same warning from Jason, although it had certainly been less extreme, because he came up to you the next morning, more determined than ever.

“They’re bullshitting us, Y/N,” he started, but you were both too tired and too afraid of more lashings to argue with him,

“Jack-” you interrupted him, “Listen to me… they’re right, we can’t get emotions caught up in this, at least not while the trials are on-”

“No…” he furrowed his eyebrows, shutting the kitchen door and holding onto your elbows, “We’ll find a way, we have to find a way,” he whispered to you with a sense of urgency you thought was way too serious for a situationship. It was all well and good for him to go around acting like breaking the rules was easy. He wasn't the one limping around with permanent tendon damage.

“You can’t let me in and not keep me, Y/N…” he muttered through gritted teeth, “Not when I.. I need you…”

You knew he didn't mean that in an emotional way, by the way he looked at you, the way he drank you up. Jack was not human. He had demonic tendencies, and you’d be an idiot to deny the fact you noticed how he had an insatiable desire for sex, for you. And for a demon, these types of bonds were not easily shed.

You didn't wanna end things with Jack either, trust me. Especially not since your first date had been so good, and your physical chemistry had more sparks than a firework show, but you really, really had no choice.

Sure, you liked him, but was he worth the punishments and subsequent disadvantage in the trials? Probably not.

He was gazing down to you with a sense of such desperation that you couldn't help but to sympathise with him,

“Let’s figure out the Nation Interviews first, right?” you nodded up to him, taking a step back when he reached down to pin some hair behind your ear, “Jack… they’re watching us… we can’t afford it-” you urged him to understand.

Thankfully, he let go of you, and nodded in confirmation that he did.

You didn’t know if it were the still-throbbing pain on your skin, or the haunting melody of pop-goes-the-weasel which was currently playing like an ear-worm in your head, but you needed to be alone for a bit before you started taking out your mood on others.

so you bid him goodnight, and took yourself to bed.

////

Somewhere between trying to find a comfortable position where your thighs didn’t burn, and rethinking your interaction with Jack, you managed to fall asleep.

It was short-lived, however, because you woke with a start to a sharp knocking on your bedroom walls. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have thought it was nothing more than a book falling off of your shelf.

But you did know better.

Right now, though, you were too anxious about everything else to care about another potential threat from Zalgo, which was a first. You felt insane enough with the worry about the Nation Interviews and the fact Laughing Jack had become the star of your every nightmare without adding Zalgo’s bullshit into the mix.

Thankfully, the knocking stopped the moment you fully registered it, but that didn't stop the fact that now you were awake.

It was almost 4 a.m., and you groaned, slamming your face into your pillows and begging your body to sleep again.

It didn’t work, and after fifteen minutes of trying, you decided to give up the fight and head down to the kitchen. There was nothing peppermint tea couldn't fix.

You found some silver lining in the fact that being up tonight meant you’d likely get a better sleep tomorrow night, which was infinitely more important than getting it tonight. Tomorrow night was the last sleep you’d get before your interview, and it you woke up sleep-deprived, you’d promote an image of weakness to the Nation, in Andromeda’s words.

You opened the kitchen door, and standing there in the warm lighting was Toby, looking at least five times as disheveled as you,

“He-hey Y/N…” he waved. He was wearing an oversized grey t-shirt with matching flannel pyjama bottoms, his usually fluffy hair looking untameable in the light.

“Hey Toby-” you waved, yawning softly, which led to him doing the same,  “Can’t sleep either?”

You hopped up onto the counter. He leant against the fridge, shaking his head before taking a sip out of the mug he was holding,

“Whatcha drinking?” you asked him,

“I haven’t put ... .put you onto my hot ch-chocolate yet?!” he feigned shock, hand on his heart to emphasize his point. With that, he shoved the mug into your hands, urging you to try it, and you laughed softly as you brought it to your lips.

It was heavenly. Literally. It almost beat your dad’s. Almost.

“Holy shit this is amazing, what did you put into this?” you asked him, widening your eyes and taking another sip before returning it,

“Fuckloads of su…sugar…” he grinned, and you laughed again,

“Is it normal for you to be up this late?” you asked him as he hopped up on the counter adjacent to you,

“I’m an insomniac-” he said.

You recalled all the brief times you noticed him half-asleep during classes, and the prominent dark circles that never left his under eyes.

“Fair,” you replied

“You n-nervous for the tri-als?” he asked you, “what had you up?”

Part of you actually considered telling him the truth about the banging on the walls. I mean, you trusted Toby. You had spent a considerable amount of time tutoring him, and the fact he had let you meant that he trusted you with his weak spots. The least you could do was trust him with yours.

But you didn’t wanna give him something else to think about, not when the nation interviews were just over a day away.

“Since we’re b-oth up, you wanna learn… how to make the hot chocolate?” he asked with a lot more energy than you thought was possible for someone who barely slept. You noticed the gash on his cheek widen as he smiled, and you found your lips curving upward.

////

“Fuck that hot chocolate w-was the best damn i..idea we ever had Y/N, but I am tired as all h-ell right now…” Toby whined, resting his head onto your shoulder from where the two of you sat on the sofa. He had no consideration for personal space, but luckily for you, you were touch-starved, so it worked.

“You said it…” you mumbled, rubbing your tired eyes and waiting on the Admin returning with their final words before the Nation Interviews. You and your still-bruised thighs had been dreading seeing Laughing Jack again, and when he entered the living-room, hands behind his back and an outrageously intimidating grin on his face, you purposefully focused on the floor.

“Tomorrow is probably the most important day of your lives-” Kagekao cracked his fingers, “So don’t fuck it up!”

“I feel so reassured…” Jane muttered from your other side, and both you and Toby snickered. You saw Jack seething from the armchair he was in, his gray hands gripping the sides of it as he watched you and Toby.

The five admin stood at the center of the room, commending you on how well you behaved this week, and reminding you of any final pointers- how to keep your posture straight and other things that made your eyelids feel heavier than they already did.

Finally, they bid their goodbyes with the promise that they’d meet you all in the morning, and reassuring you that whatever happened, you would be fine.

///

You were lying in bed, and suddenly, all of the tiredness had left you.

Tomorrow was a big fucking day.

You’d been hearing about these Nation Interviews for weeks, and had been preparing nonstop for them for days on end. You actually couldn’t wait to go back to the days when your biggest concern was researching the Underworld in a futile hope to feel comforted.

Tomorrow would either make you or break you.

If it made you, you would have advantages in the trials.

If it broke you, you could potentially die.

Sure, you had a newfound motivation to work hard to beat Tim, but right now all you could think about was surviving, and with every thought came a heavy fear that settled like lead in your abdomen and made you pale with nerves.

You rehearsed everything you knew about the nation in your head, trying to underline and highlight every piece of relevant information that would make you feel better about tomorrow.

You started with the civil war.

The Nation had been at war ever since you were born. This was how you always remembered it: the stories, the fables, the folklore that had been passed down by your dad and his Underlings. Before your dad rose to power, citizens did not live in harmony as they did now. Even the suggestion on having a competition to crown the future Operator would have been punishable by death.

According to your grandfather and all those who had come before him, your blood was royal, rich and ready for power. Anything else was pitiful.

But then, your dad got the title, and everything- for the most part- changed. People’s voices began to matter, and the nation slowly began to reconstruct itself in harmony and peace.Your dad was therefore beloved by most.

Most, meaning everyone but those of the older generation- specifically those who worshipped the monarchy and your grandfather’s ideals, or those who fought in the resistance.

The resistance.

You had always been taught not to speak of them growing up.

“Times have changed, Y/N!” your dad would fret, placing flowers in your hair and holding you tight to him, “We must not focus on those who will not move on from the past-”

The resistance were a small group formed around the time of your grandfather's reign, and they aimed to take down the monarchy from the inside- exposing them for their crimes and rid the place of any hierarchy. It was the resistance who had stood up to the autocracy, the resistance who had started the first war, and the resistance who were not to be spoken of in broad daylight, in fear of rebel activity in the secular age.

Of course, they barely existed anymore, since your father’s good intentions and democratic way of work put an end to old habits, but that didn’t mean they were extinct.

Those who still stood by their ideals claimed that no matter who it was, all members of the Operator family were inherently corrupt, and swore on their exiled leader they would never accept your rule, or your presence, in their hometown.

And with the recent attack on the four innocent civilians? Let's just say it didn’t help their opinions.

Part of you couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t as if you were the biggest fan of what The Operator did. You had spent your entire life holding the power in your hands and rejecting it every time. You knew, if only a fraction, how they felt.

Sure, you were in favour of the majority of the citizens who kissed the ground your dad walked on. Sure, you were practically the Nation’s princess.

But the lasting members of the Resistance?

They wanted you dead.

That was the thing that frightened you most, Miss Divisive. They either loved you, or they hated you. People likely already had their minds made up about you, meaning you had to be an expert in selling yourself to those who didn’t know much about you, or who teetered on the line of where they stood. That was who your interview was for.

Because none of it meant anything if you fucked it up. 

Chapter Text

“And now… The moment you’ve ALL been waiting for…!”

The applause was monumental. Tens of thousands of civilians, hollering and clapping and stomping their feet in tune with the booming trumpet that led into the theme song of The Splendorman Show. All of them cheering for you.

It had been one of the quickest mornings of your life. You had attributed the blur to your nerves and the sudden realisation that you had been preparing for this day all week, and it was finally here.

You were woken at 5 a.m. and spent the first hour and a half getting your hair and makeup done by Andromeda. Laughing Jack then dressed you up, delicate as a doll, just in time for you to admire how pristine you looked in the mirror, with your lace cuffs and parted glossy lips.

“May we please put our hands and feet together…!”

The coach ride had been, for the first time ever, deadly silent. Partially because, as far as you were aware, not one person was looking forward to this. Partially because the Admin were riding with you.

The journey took no longer than thirty minutes, but it wasn’t the change of scenery from the homely forest that told you that.

It was the people.

The last time you had been in the Nation’s Capital, you were only seven years old, so you couldn’t claim you saw it in all its glory. The height of what you saw was the shining flashes in the distance outside the Proxy Academy, while you were safely put into the back of the car to be driven home.

You had never seen… this.

The streets were cobblestoned, with lines of little, charming restaurants dotting either side. You passed a market, with colourful, fresh fruits and vegetables being sold by groups of people in beiges and scarlet. Cafes and boulevards were swarmed with families: fathers and their little girls, couples with coffees in their hands. You felt as though this huge, navy coach was intruding on something. On their peace.

But then, the welcoming started.

It had started small. After five minutes of travelling into the Capital and heading toward the more lavish, prestigious part of the Nation, you began to notice the changes.

What was quaint and picturesque had turned industrial. Factories and buildings, all grey and modern, took up most of the space on either side of the streets.

And then came the factory workers and manufacturers, those designated to produce the Nation’s appliances and noted with high credibility. They stood in clusters, wiping their sweat-beaded foreheads and gazing awestruck at the coach as though barely believing it was true. As though barely believing that their future leader was in the very vehicle.

The further you travelled, the louder and more busy the place got. You could barely make out supermarket signs and building names through the crowds of people, all gathered on either side of the sidewalk, ogling at you all as though you were a parade float.

you wished you had got off at the first stop, with the markets and the ice cream.

Applause and whistles rang out from dignified business-women, as their husbands clapped in modesty, and their daughters screamed with joy, chorusing their “I love you” s up to the windows. Some of them carried posters with pictures of you guys printed on them, alongside some endearing messages of support.

You could only wonder how they got them.

“For the main event!!!”

You entered the final stretch of cobblestone, which had been closed off to all but merchandise sellers. A small market-like area had been set up with tables, full-to-the-brim with objects relating to all of you in one way or another: toy hatchets, miniature clocks, black-and-white scarves.

You sent a shocked gaze to Jane, who mirrored your expression. The question pounded in your mind: how do they know all of this? How do they know everything about us? Why are they trying to sell it?

You felt fabricated, as though you were nothing but a character, as you passed the golden gates into Proxy Academy, and disappeared into a private, underground car park.

Everything was a blur after that. The ride up the elevator had felt like a bleary dream, with only Ben and Toby’s words of last-minute motivation keeping you on your feet. Cameras and their men called out numbers and counted down from 15, as a man you had never seen before gave you the number to the dressing room you would be in.

“The first of twelve Candidates of the MILENNIUM!"

You felt Ben’s arms grip you in a tight, bone-crushing hug, and it was the first thing all morning to make you feel like a person. Your hands held him like he was the only thing on earth, and the two of you swayed until Laughing Jack ushered you to hurry up.

“Good luck Y/N!” Ben called as he was brought to his own dressing room, and suddenly you were alone with Helen and Laughing Jack.

You didn't even have it in you to feel frightened of him right now. Not when you barely had room to think. Not when your entire life rested on this next hour.

You and Helen were sat on the neon orange, velvet sofa, as Laughing Jack rambled about focusing on everyone’s strengths and honing out their weaknesses so you could one-up them when it was your run.

But you didn’t want to have to one-up anyone. You wanted to be sitting in the kitchen in your pyjamas, complaining about Ben’s cooking and laughing at Clockwork’s jokes.

The flat-screen TV spanned across the entire wall in front of you, giving you a HD view of every square inch of the set. The polka-dot couch that Splendorman, sitting in all his glory- hands clasped, grin gleaming, glimmering with energy and enthusiasm and everything you currently lacked.

Splendorman was something of a beloved, comedic character adopted by the nation after your dad’s rise to fame and derived, obviously, from the alias your dad had once used: Slenderman. He was just as tall but wore a black suit with huge, rainbow polka dots, and a matching hat, and had a constant, cartoon-like smile on his face. He was seen as the goofy, fun-loving version of him, and did wonders for how the nation received your dad.

He was as famous as they came, but the type of famous that wasn’t corrupted by power. You had seen him walk in parades, fighting for equal rights across different domains in the nation. You had seen him openly defend your dad against lasting resistance members’ empty threats.

You hoped he was as good in person as he was in your head.

There was also Trenderman, who was known for his famous TV shows where he would help civilians choose their wedding dresses, or redecorate their entire homes.

You had no idea what their thing was with making different versions of your dad, but it worked.

You had grown up watching one of Splendorman’s many shows: Splendy’s Home. It was probably the most famous children’s TV show of all time, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t help with your nerves right now. Part of you felt as though you were a little girl again, getting to go on her favourite TV show with her favourite host. You held onto that part of you until you felt your hands burn.

There had to be at least 10,000 people in that audience. The floor, as well as three separate tiers, were swarmed with them: cheering, screaming, as a beaming spotlight appeared at the end of the stage.

He was about to announce the first person.

You held your breath.

“I’d LOVE for you all to meet… LIU WOODS!!!”

The crowd erupted: catcalling, squealing, stomping - all completely drumming against your ears, matching the beat of your heart. His ten minutes to sell himself started now.

Liu practically glided across the stage with an aura of grace you had never seen in your entire life. He took time with the crowd, greeting them with waves and smiles before gracefully taking a seat on the maroon, velvet sofa across from Splendorman’s, who was giving him the biggest round of applause of all.

“What a LOVELY welcome from the audience- I’ll tell ya somethin’, it’s not easy bein’ the first one out here, is it? But my oh my, you made it LOOK easy!” he turned to the audience, gesturing to Liu, “Didn’t he make it look easy?”

Again, they erupted with delight, and Liu mouthed out a ‘thank you’ in their direction. He looked like a prince: posture perfect, emerald eyes shining against the striped scarf. Even the scars on his face served to make him look noble.

“Thank you all very much for having me,” he said. He was using charm to his advantage, you noticed, and it was working like one.

“Now, with us tonight, just for you, we have a few VERY special guests!” Splendorman announced, and for a moment, you saw Liu’s graceful facade slip.

You had not been told about this.

The camera panned upward to the back of the audience, where a huge, glass box stood out among the crowd. Sitting inside it, on a lavish sofa with drinks and platters of chocolate-covered strawberries, was the old man, as well as two people- a man and a woman. You could only assume it was his parents. The old man toasted his glass up to him.

The man next to him was tall, with the same brown hair as Liu and a moustache. He was waving down at his son with a huge, dopey grin. The woman was tiny in comparison, with long, dark-blonde hair that fell in beach waves down her back. She had a pair of glasses perched on her nose and blew him a kiss before wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, while her husband held her close.

The camera fell back to Liu, who seemed to take a moment before finding his voice again. You could tell he was trying to remain calm.

He had spoken about his parents a few times- his mother in particular- and your heart went out to him for having to unexpectedly reunite with her now of all times.

“Anything you wanna say to them?! Go on, don’t be shy!” Splendorman gave him the stage.

He kept his composure. If this was a test employed to see how the candidates dealt with their emotions, he passed with flying colours.

“Mom… dad…” he spoke calmly into his own microphone, “I’m so happy to see you both, I appreciate you being here more than anything, thank you, from the bottom of my heart… I hope I’ll get to talk with you after the interview…”

He thanked the old man in his next breath, detailing his amazing mentorship and earning another round of applause in response.

“Now,” Splendy announced, when the commotion of the crowds had calmed down, “Let’s begin our interviews!”

///

“I think that The Operator position requires a skill of maintaining order, primarily,” Tim nodded, his serious expression unwavering, “Which is why Brian and I have always worked as a duo- to delegate those skills between us in order to create as many adequate safety measures and future implementations as possible,”

He spoke like a politician, and Brian only nodded in response.

You noticed he barely had any room to speak, and when he did, it was clipped answers and nods or shakes.

This was not the Brian you knew. Brian was the voice of reason, the person who always had something to say when you needed to hear it, and also the person who was always up for talking about anything to pass the time.

You shared a look with Helen, that only confirmed one thing.

These interviews were being edited.

///

“And do you have any fine new additions you’d like to add to our wonderful nation, Miss Hopkins?”

“Nightclubs,” Nina grinned, earning herself a few laughs from the audience as well as wolf-whistles from a few teenage girls in the third row. She joined in on the laughter, twirling her hair and grinning, “Think about it- The future Operator needs to relate to the new generation! I know exactly what they want! And what they want are more nightclubs!”

Cheers rang out again, as Splendorman threw his head back in a laugh,

“She’s relatable!” he commended her, “I mean, come on, just LOOK at her outfit and tell me it doesn’t radiate our youth! She’s one of us!” he had continued

///

Jane had elicited a completely different, albeit just as respectable, response. Her elegance was not lost on the immenseness of the room, rather the opposite had occurred. The crowd were as still as a morgue, hanging on to each of her wispy, carefully crafted sentences explaining the ins and outs of assassination training.

Your eyes widened as you watched her. She looked like a goddess in that velvet black dress, one leg over the other, looking Splendorman in the eye as though challenging him to throw her off guard. She commanded the entire room. The camera panned to the crowd, where a girl with blonde hair and big, blue eyes stood, jaw-dropped, looking like she had been caught up in discovering the meaning of love at first sight.

“The mysterious femme fatale that is Jane Arkensaw!” Splendorman declared, and the audience exploded again.

////

Clockwork did not.

“I mean, what the [REDACTED]?” she gestured her hand out, leaning on the other one as though she had just dropped into Splendorman’s house for a catch-up, “Somebody’s gotta step up and get this place’s [REDACTED] in order-” she snorted.

The crowd was divided. It seemed as though Splendorman was at first shocked, but he quickly came around to supporting her,

“Well, we don’t see someone speaking so honestly these days! I say I gotta give you my respect for that!”

He high-fived her, and a few members of the audience, no doubt more left-leaning, wolf-whistled and cheered.

If she noticed how weary the crowd were, she didn’t let on, only continued in her brash way of getting her point across. By the end of the interview., though, it seemed as though she had managed to get them laughing not once, but a few separate times, and earned applause, as well as a few distinct hollers, on her way out.

//

If Clockwork was barely adequate, then Jeff was disastrous, and even though you saw it coming, it still made your stomach turn.

Not one thing he said did him any justice. Both Andromeda and his two parents, who looked infinitely graver than they did with Liu, watched as he ran his mouth and practically tore his reputation and chances to shreds.

“[REDACTED] the government, [REDACTED] your fake interview [REDACTED]- none of you have remotely any idea what it’s [REDACTED] like to be depending on you [REDACTED] for survi-”

You gasped just as the TV stream was cut, claiming something about technical difficulties. The last thing you saw was Andromeda, downing her glass of wine.

“Holy shit…” Helen widened his eyes. You met the gaze and shook your head. God only knew what was going on down there.

Laughing Jack broke the silence with a terribly timed,

“At least that's one candidate you’ll beat-”

When the TV came back on, your heart could only sink lower, seeing Jack on the screen.

///

“He’s quite a bad boy, we all LOVE a bad boy don’t we?” Splendorman grinned, and it seemed as though the entire place was acting as though nothing had just happened with Jeff. As though it had just been a delusion on the viewer's behalf.

Jack was… off… the entire interview. While he was usually talkative, good-natured and social, right now he was anything but. He sat, practically clenching the arm of the sofa, and didn’t offer a smile for more than a few fabricated seconds.

He did offer good answers, though you knew by the concentrated look on his face that he was reciting them from memory.

You didn’t know if his behaviour was down to editing, or down to the fact he was, for lack of a better description, starving.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

////

To no surprise, Toby was doing exceptionally well.

He had flown through each question with ease, maintaining the perfect balance of sense and credibility whilst also harbouring his relatable, down-to-earth personality. He talked about his past- about how he wanted to focus a lot of work on domestic abuse services, which garnered an immense reception from the audience.

Overall, he wore his heart on his sleeve, and just as you knew they would, they loved him.

You sighed in relief as he left the stage grinning.

///

But no one was a match for Ben.

You knew he would do well, given who he is, but even you were shocked at how he managed to light up the entire room, as well as TVs all across the nation.

He talked in long-winded spiels, about his own endeavours, using hilarious anecdotes and witty responses that even had you and Helen roaring with laughter at the screen. Splendorman himself was struggling to ask questions through his fits of giggles, the two of them playfully hitting each other through their laughter.

The audience was the exact same. Each time the camera panned around, they were wiping tears from their eyes or clutching their sides. You’d have sworn he was a famous comedian, not a candidate at all.

“Are you saying you’re in love with me, Splendorman?” he gasped jokingly in response to a comment he had made, “I’ve always wanted to get married and to YOU? I must be in heaven-”

The crowd went wild at this, and Splendorman only coaxed him more,

“Head over HEELS, though I wouldn’t suggest a beach wedding- ya know, in case ya-”

“DROWN!” the two of them practically yelled in unison, and the entire room went crazy with another round of laughter. They gave the impression of two friends starting up a hilarious podcast, and you weren't surprised when the audience began to boo at the prospect of Ben leaving.

There was a knock at the door, and Candypop, who had been Toby and Brian’s mentor, appeared, ushering the three of you to the waiting area before you could finish watching the interview.

It suddenly hit you that you guys were next, and when you turned to Helen to wish him luck, he was already gone.

“Our second-to-last candidate everyone- give a warm welcome to HELEN OTIS!” you heard Splendorman cry from the room adjacent.

The crowd boomed with clapping again, and you took your seat on one of the plastic chairs in the room.

There was no TV in there, meaning you were forced to judge how Helen was faring by the audience’s distant responses.

To make your nerves worse, you were facing Laughing Jack, who still made you flinch every time he opened his mouth.

The next few minutes went by like lightning. A final applause. A blinding spotlight. A sea of people, chanting your name.

And you were on the sofa, forcing yourself to smile up to Splendorman as he rambled about how excited he was to meet you,

“How are ya feelin'?” he asked, and you snapped into your rehearsed persona of excitement and motivation,

“Amazing!” you grinned “I mean, I grew up idolising you- it’s been a dream of mine to be on one of your shows,”

He gasped in delight, “OH Y/N you really know how to make an eldritch being blush!” he cooed, and the crowd laughed. He turned up to the box, where your dad stood waving down at you, and hollered, "YA HEAR THAT? I'M THE FAVOURITE!”

The crowd went crazy at the interaction, but you felt like a blanket had just been put around your shoulders. Your dad was there. You were safe.

“Lemme tell ya Y/N, I don’t wanna make us sound biased, but I’ve been waitin’ for this one all night- how does it feel knowin’ the people love ya already?”

The people in question applauded like they were being paid for it, and you broke into a smile at the prospect of it.

They liked you already. You didn’t have to win them over. They already wanted you.

But then you remembered who your interview was for.

“I mean, I’m flattered but come ON, not everyone can love me!” you joked as Splendorman shook his head in absolute shock at the idea of it,

“AND she’s humble!” he complimented, turning to the audience, “Why don’t we show Y/N how much we love her!”

And on that note, the crowd burst into something you had never seen. Standing up, cheering and clapping as though you had already won the title. Some of them were even crying.

And then you realised it.

These people worshipped your dad, and by extension, you.

You were divisive, but this was a room of people who fell to one extreme.

And it wasn’t the one you wanted.

Don’t get me wrong, having everyone practically offer themselves up to you was nice, and had you wanted nothing but power and control, you’d have soaked it up gladly. But your ideals strayed so far from their ideals that it was completely non-comparable.

These people were counting on you to perpetuate a war against which you spent your entire life faring.

These people were not on your side.

If you indulged them in their idle worship, you doublecrossed those of poorer backgrounds who did not reap benefits from The Operator’s rule, not to mention those harmed by it.

“I mean I try to remember that not everyone reaps the benefits we do, Splendorman, as lovely as they are!” you grinned jovially into the microphone, “I know not everyone can endorse me, but I’d like the ENTIRE nation to know that I’m on their side regardless if they do or don’t…”

There was an uncomfortable silence, and it prompted you to continue,

“I’d like to perpetuate a future of fairness and freedom for all, not only those who can afford it. There are a lot of beliefs and laws in our system that I believe need reversing and addressed, particularly with those of lower-income backgrounds, and I know I am the perfect candidate for it,”

You were saying you were endorsing those who weren’t rich and spoiled without outwardly saying it. Speaking out on this topic was taboo, especially with the ongoing war with The Underground. Those of lower-income backgrounds earned less because their ancestors were on the wrong side of the previous civil war, and were therefore punished for their sins.

You thought this was bullshit. You prayed your words would not be edited out, and you hoped they got the message.

“Wise words from a fair leader!” Splendorman grinned, and the audience gave you some more applause, but you noticed their energy had somewhat shifted. That was not what they expected from you. A few higher-ups, likely government leaders, in the front row muttered between themselves, but you held your head high.

The rest of the interview seemed to go by in seconds, and by the end, you were fully settled on the sofa, telling stories about your time growing up with The Operator,

“Well you’ve certainly grown into a beautiful young woman Y/N,” Splendorman stood up, holding his hand out for you to take before addressing the audience once more,

“May we please put our hands together for Y/N!” he laced his fingers with yours, approving squeeze in your direction, and held your hand in the air with pride.

You felt victorious. 

Chapter Text

Somewhere between rekindling with everyone after the interviews and letting the adrenaline of nerves and stress settle down, you and your housemates had accepted a fancy invitation to an afterparty, which was to be held in the lavish, five-star ‘No End Hotel’, a place where those not in the 1% could only dream of staying.

And the best part?

You were the guests of honor.

Even you, despite being at the tip of the iceberg when it came to status and power, were astonished by the sheer beauty of it. You had your very own suite, complete with a walk-in wardrobe, a king-sized bed, a jacuzzi, and 24/7 room service, all on the house.

Being a candidate did have some perks after all.

“What are you wearing?” Jane asked you, spinning around and holding her waist-length hair out of the way so you could zip her dress up. It was elegant- sleek and black- and it made her look as regal as ever.

You had coordinated with her and the other girls, opting for a simple black gown with a slit going up the side of your leg and material that shaped your curves flawlessly. You were worried it would show off the still-open wounds on the backs of your thighs from Laughing Jack's lashes, but thankfully, you were fine. the fabric of the dress did nothing to help the pain, though.

The event was formal attire, and judging by the inherent knowing that very important government officials would be attending this party and likely scanning your every move for a flaw or fault to warrant them reducing their support for you, the four of you decided to go with black, the safest option.

Nina was in a shorter tulle-style dress, whilst Clockwork donned a black pantsuit, and the four of you looked absolutely gorgeous.

A knock on the door snapped all of your heads over, and Ben’s sing-song voice rang out,

“LADIES HURRY UPPPPP!” he called from outside, and you heard his footsteps patter down the hall to do the same to your neighbours.

“Selfies first!” Jane urged, tugging you over to the enormous, gold-plated mirror that hung on the wall in front of you, ignoring Clockwork’s groans and reluctant spiels of how she hated selfies.

Her iPhone 5S was held tight in one hand, and Clockwork’s wrist in the other as she fought to keep her in position, whilst you and Nina crouched down in front of them, posing endlessly for all the different pictures whilst Clockwork made a point to flip the camera off in each one.

When you finally finished, after minutes of giggles and snapshots, you left your hotel room to see Ben standing at the end of the hall, and the four of you instantly swapped knowing gazes at how…. nice he looked.

“The suit?” Jane mouthed in your direction, and you nodded approvingly. You hadn’t seen Ben in anything more formal than a clean pair of pajamas. Looking at him dressed in a shirt and tie felt like a fever dream.

“Admiring my style?” he grinned to the four of you, spinning around and posing as Clockwork cackled,

“What style?” she joked, flicking his forehead as he wrapped his arms around both you and Jane’s shoulders, flipping her off in the process,

“The four of you are gonna have the government on their KNEES-” he whistled out, before looking you right in the eye, “Not your dad though… obviously-” he grinned, snorting slightly.

You opened your mouth to match his wit when another door opened next to you.

“He-heard your voice Y/N…” Toby’s head poked out from his room, his tie hanging undone around his neck, and his shirt untucked, “Any chance you know h-how to tie a tie?”

“Are we invisible?” Ben mumbled to Jane, who promptly elbowed him in the ribs, but he didn’t get the memo,

“Wasn’t your tie done like, 5 minutes ago?” he asked Toby, “Pretty sure when you came into my room it was ti-”

“N-no idea wh-at you’re talk…talking about-” Toby said quickly, making a beeline for you and watching you intently as you tied it for him. You had to admit, his big brown eyes were gleaming down at you, and if you hadn't been careful, you would have given their distracting nature away.

the entire time, his gaze didn't falter.

“What...?” you asked him humorously,

“Nothing... you just look fo-cused…” he murmured so only you could hear.  He was talking so low you had to look at his lips to make out the words properly, and you noticed how delicate they were when he spoke, almost as though he was carefully maneuvering his entire mouth with total control.

You finished off the tie, and his straight face faltered into a grin. You noticed, then, how all of the control fell apart when he smiled that contagious smile, and you admired the way his eyes lit up in coordination.

“All done, where would you be without me…?” you muttered playfully, flicking his forehead,

“Ya-know I c-can’t feel that, but nice try…” he joked, flicking you back. You dodged it with a laugh, and seconds later, you were being chased toward the elevator with him trying to get you back, both of you screaming with laughter like children and not caring if your pristine outfits got ruined in the fun of it.

After the stress of this morning, this was just the thing you needed.

///

Imagine an asshole. Then stop.

Congratulations! Now you understand Tim Wright in all his complexities.

He was dressed like he was ready to give a presidential speech- his suit pristine and hair tamed. For once, he didn’t look like he had just walked in from weeks of living in the forest with nothing but a packet of Marlboros.

And he was excelling at being a fucking liar.

You watched as he drifted around the ballroom, taking time to introduce himself to any elite that came into his periphery. You overheard him complimenting them on their various implementations and strategies that you knew he didn’t give a fuck about. He stood, straight and poised with a champagne flute in his hand, laughing with a permanent smile plastered on his face, like he was a well-mannered strategist and not a selfish, sarcastic asshole.

What a fucking actor.

You looked over at him from where you stood, half in a conversation with a few leaders of the equality sector, who were complimenting your audacity to allude to those affected by the system in your interview.

He caught your gaze and pretended not to notice, but you were persistent.

When he eventually relented, he slanted his eyes and shot you a demanding expression, as though your attention was a currency he didn’t want to deal in.

“Faker,” you mouthed, sipping your own glass before swiftly turning back to the conversation with the equality department.

And then, an all too familiar voice caught your attention,

“Where is she?” it asked, his footsteps padding on the burgundy carpet of the room, his shadow stretching along the wall. You sighed in relief. You had been waiting for this.

“There she is!” he sighed in relief, and you quickly excused yourself to rush in your dad’s direction. His arms were stretched open, and you ran right into them, not caring about the formality of the situation. He was the Operator, they HAD to respect his decisions and how he valued his emotions. If anything, this would only add more shininess to your already striking image.

“You were amazing! They loved you, they thought you were phenomenal!” he praised you, rocking the two of you back and forth, “You were so courageous- you spoke so well, and if I had eyes of my own, I’d have shed a tear-”

You laughed and felt grateful for how your cheeks were sore from smiling. Your dad was the one thing you needed right now. You had been thinking about it since this morning, and it had been the only silver lining to this publicity stunt.

Now he was here, and you were safe. Now, you could relax.

You wound up at a large, circle table next to him, surrounded by eleven of his closest colleagues and discussing the trials. The men at the table seemed to have an endless list of compliments for you, and you soaked them up with polite laughs and abundant gratitude.

Truth be told, you knew they were only doing it because they HAD to respect you. If your boss was a huge, faceless man with all the power in the world and the potential to vaporize you, you’d say you worshipped his daughter, too.

But you knew how to play the game, so you thanked them and acted humble, whilst also complimenting them on their work and additions to the nation.

Somewhere along their spiel of praise, you locked eyes with Tim, who was glaring at you from across the room,

“Hypocrite,” he mouthed, and span back to his own conversation.

You inhaled with annoyance, but your dad’s voice snapped you out of it,

“And she’s been so brave in facing these empty threats from The Underworld,”

Oh god. The last thing you wanted right now was a conversation about Zalgo. You had managed to push him to the back of your mind somehow, despite the knocks on your wall being ever-present. Now that the interviews were over, a free space for worry had opened just for him.

“Those innocent civilians..” one of the men muttered, and you all nodded in shared empathy, “He’s a cold-blooded monster… who could slaughter so freely?”

The Nation's government, you thought, but didn't say.

“He doesn’t stand a chance against us,” your dad nodded seriously, “If he thinks he’s posing a threat, he needs to think again, we as a nation have never been stronger, especially now we have Y/N in the running,”

Murmurs of nodded agreement broke out, and the man on your left pat your shoulder,

“Take him down for us, Y/N,” he grinned.

“Karma, we should say…” your dad had nodded, and for a moment, you forgot that was now your alias, “I love it, I really love it….give him his karma…”

“Karma fits perfectly with the message we’re sending too-” one of the other men smiled, “Good thinking Y/N… give those Admin karma for how they took your birthright from you-”

You wanted to tell them that you had actually chosen Karma as a name because you liked the sound of it, but you figured now was a bad time to show your half-assed intentions.

“Exactly,” another added, “Karma will be served when you show them this entire thing was a waste of money and time, and that those resistance rats and commoner kids have no chance-”

A few of them snickered. Your stomach sank.

Those ‘resistance rats’ and ‘commoner kids’ in question were your friends. Living with them made you forget how different you were. Living with them made you feel like you were all on equal standing.

Being here showed you the truth.

You were royal blood, like it or not. You were held up by the elites and worshipped by the mindless. You were destined for greatness, and had you not reached it, you’d still be granted an above-average lifestyle and remembered in death.

The same could not be said about your friends.

You looked over to where Nina, Liu, and Brian were all laughing together in one of the corners, and your stomach twisted.

You didn’t know where they had grown up. You didn’t know about their past and what aspects of the system benefitted them. You also didn’t know where they stood in relation to the resistance, or where they had faced hardships at the hands of the laws that YOUR ancestors birthed.

Suddenly, you were hyper-aware of your privilege.

You were in two minds. One was to announce that you were actually rooting for those resistance rats and commoner kids because the system was fucked anyways and you never wanted to be the operator in the first place, so they could all go fuck themselves.

The other, more mature part of your mind told you to ignore them and let history do its job in proving them to be idiots.

So you excused yourself and left the conversation.

////

By 11 p.m., the party was in full swing. You felt euphoric: drunk, surrounded by people, trying different party food, and joining in on conversations from the filthy rich like you didn’t secretly loathe their ignorance.

Speakers blared with jazzy music, the trumpets and horns mixed with beats so loud the floor beneath you vibrated. Everyone’s previously collected composure had faltered, and you stood right next to the barely filled buffet table, watching it all unfold.

Clockwork was deep in a conversation with the nation's Grand Judge, Dina Angela Clarke, a young woman in her twenties who ruled the courts like a god. The two of them were laughing, holding onto each other for drunken support, and you admired how informal she was despite her status.

Nina was with Brian and Liu, the three of them engaged in a poker game with three senators. You watched as Liu pushed forward a stack of his chips, and laughed at his nerve.

Jane was off to one of the corners, talking low to the blonde girl you had seen admiring her in the crowd earlier. Jane’s hand was resting on her shoulder, and the girl was twirling her hair. By the looks of it, they were flirting.

But the majority of the room was commanded by Ben, who was standing on one of the chairs- tie long gone and shirt untucked with the top two buttons undone. His face was flushed red from drunkenness, and a group of people surrounded him like he was the messiah.

A chandelier above stole all the light from the room and reflected it back onto him. The group started to clap, cheering him on as he began to chug a pint of liquor. The clapping turned to banging palms onto tables, which turned to cheering as he slammed it down and raised his fists in victory.

A glimmer in his eyes told you that he lived for this: the applause. How they chanted his name and screamed for him. He looked high on it, and you felt a twinge of envy interrupt your endless admiration for his magnetism.

He was the nation’s choice. Easily.

You knew it didn’t affect how you saw him, but when it came down to it, the nation chose who ate and who didn’t, among other life-or-death things. He had them all at his fingertips.

“Fearless, isn’t he?” a voice rang out from next to you.

It was Helen.

He was leaning against a marble pillar next to you, his head lolled in your direction and his presence was soothing as ever. You stepped closer to him,

“As always,” you commended Ben, who was now singing along with his followers, “What has you lingering in the shadows?” you teased,

“Do I look like one for formal parties?” he quirked his eyebrow with a smirk, and you laughed, shaking your head. He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up,

“I’ve never seen this many people in my life…” you admit,

“Me neither... it's nothing like the parties I usually go to…”

You turned to him in curiosity, tilting your head and silently urging him to continue. He looked around, almost suspiciously, and lowered his voice,

“You know… "

you didn't know.

"Come on, Y/N... you're really not getting where I'm going with this?"

Maybe it was because he was clearly tipsy that his usually mysterious demeanor had begun to fade. You shook your head. He had you hooked,

"I mean... resistance parties…” he muttered down to you.

Your heart stopped.

What did he just say?

He must have read your gaze, because he quickly spoke again after a sigh, “They aren’t what you think… it’s complicated- I know-” he explained, but you weren’t buying it.

Judging by the way he rushed his sentence, he knew he had said something wrong to someone wrong. The resistance had been preying on your downfall since the beginning of time. There was a red target on your back that only shone for them. Sure, you understood why they had done what they did, but their bitterness was lost on you and your dad. As far as you were concerned, the resistance were not to be involved with.

And Helen was part of it.

the sudden realization was hitting you like bullet after bullet. Helen, who had been shy and friendly and gorgeous. Helen, who you had embarrassed yourself in front of after declaring him a hallway crush. Helen, who you had watched paint and made coffee for.

Helen was part of the group who wanted you dead.

Your eyes began to burn with betrayal and hatred, and he grabbed your wrist before you could run off and never turn back in his direction again.

His crystal blue eyes were shimmering with regret, and he sighed,

“Can you let me explain?”

//

And that's how you ended up in the smoking area, cigarette after cigarette, with only the sounds of blurred music from indoors to serenade you. The two of you were swinging back and forth on a bamboo garden swing which creaked when you swung forward but was charming all the same.

Your anger had turned to reluctant understanding, and was now bridging between that and empathy.

“So Jonathan and Zero are your best friends, who happen to be part of the resistance…”

You were reiterating everything he had just told you back to him to confirm the details. From what he had said, Helen had grown up as one of the great-grandchildren of the original resistance, alongside his two best friends, Jonathan and Zoe (who had changed her name to Zero to avoid detection). The three of them had a childhood from hell- being constantly the victims of harassment, bullying, of abuse- just because of their ancestors.

And in a three-way genius plan, they decided to put an end to it.

The new wave of the resistance was being run underground, and they had changed their morals to advocate for equal treatment and to eradicate the world of the prejudices that the first Operator had created. The key component of their plan was Helen Otis, the boy who had kept his nose clean for the past five years and trained hard enough to earn himself the respect and a place in the Operator trials.

“I'm the token resistance-stained child…” he explained, inhaling his cigarette, “If I’m in the trials, they can’t be accused of completely eradicating our voices,”

He was speaking words which you wouldnt have even dared to whisper, yet believed all the same.

Saying all of this stuff, in general, was enough to earn you a subliminal death sentence- an official watching your every move in the name of ‘The Nation's safety’.

Saying all of this stuff as a candidate was like actively putting yourself on the front lines and demanding them to shoot. If anyone heard him right now, he’d be as good as dead once these trials started.

He seemed too nonchalant to care.

“Zoe was the granddaughter of the co-leader of the original resistance, and she had to watch him be executed on the spot once their leader fled… Jonathan was the nephew of one of their spies… they tried to erase their lineage, brainwash them into believing their own family deserved what they got-”

You took a drag of his cigarette and pulled your knees to your chest,

“And you?” you asked him, voice lingering with the smoke in the night sky.

The question hung for a while, and then he caught it, clearing his throat,

“I grew up without my parents…” he began, “It was only me, my three brothers, and two sisters… Dad hung himself first, and then mom overdosed a few weeks later…. My grandparents were executed before that…” he explained, and his voice was hoarse.

You held onto every word, your eyes widening and then watering at how horrific it was,

“We grew up poor, because who wants to help the smitten kids of the resistance?” he snorted sardonically, “No one wanted us, no one took us in, no one wanted to know us- in their eyes, we were better off dead anyways,”

“Til Jonathan found me-” he continued, “And his parents took us in - all of us- and moved us into a bunker with the other rejected kids-”

You, for once in your life, had no idea what to say.

Helen Otis, the boy who had been meticulous and put-together and well-read, had grown up with nothing. Had been cast out by the system and forced to pay for sins he didn’t commit.

You remembered in flashes how he had avoided any generals eager to speak to him, and how his interview (which you had still yet to see) had dubbed him quiet and contemplative,

“The world is nasty Y/N, believe me…” he continued, “I came here to make it better for them, for all the kids who grew up like me… when I win- when I show them that one of their kids CAN make it- I’m gonna make them regret everything they’ve ever done to us…”

The two of you sat in a quiet silence. There was a mutual understanding of how different the two of you were, how the government had favored you yet brandished him a villain.

He broke the silence with the words you needed to hear,

“You’re not what I thought you’d be…”

You looked at him with surprise, and he continued,

“You’re genuine… you’re sweet… a little naive, but your intentions are good…” he spoke, “I was expecting a brat- a product of the system- like, we all hated you growing up…” he looked to your expression, “No offense...."

"None taken," you promised,

"You were our age… you were like a princess- we watched you thrive while we starved, so when I met you, I guess I had my prejudices…” he trailed off, “I’m sorry about that,”

You shook your head, “I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to realize not everyone had the same type of childhood as I did…” you admit, “I was blinded by what I had to think about others- I was selfish- you have every right to hold prejudice,"

“Hey-” he smiled down at you, nudging your shoulder playfully, “You let me use up all your paint, which I stole- that’s not selfish… and you’re hearing me out without selling me to your dad and his men when it would do wonders for your own gain- also not selfish-”

You wanted to tell him about your lack of interest in the competition, but you figured he was more important right now. You wanted to tell him that you saw him as a friend, not a competition- but you figured he might not yet feel the same.

There was something to be said about your near love at first sight for him and his near hate at first sight for you. There was more to be said about how your lipstick lingered on the cigarette and how his eyes never seemed to leave your lips when you spoke, but you figured it fit better in the silence.

After the final exhale was released, the two of you made your way upstairs- through the back door to avoid unwanted conversations and up the spacious lift with the golden handrails.

“Thanks, by the way…” he mumbled, running a hand through his shiny, onyx hair,

“For what?”

“For skipping the party with me-”

The two of you grinned, the whirring of the elevator and the beat of your heart orchestrating the scene,

“It was an honor-” you joked, hearing the ding and getting off with him, “thanks for deciding not to hate me-”

“Don't think I could if I tried, and trust me, I tried…” he joked, smiling gently.

You matched it and bid him a final goodnight before disappearing into your hotel room. 

Chapter Text

Your hotel room was a mess.

I’m not talking about a typical mess you make with your friends whilst getting ready to go out.

I’m talking about a mess you clearly had nothing to do with.

Your clothes were still scattered on the bed from earlier. Your makeup was still sitting on the dresser. The curtains were still open, and the bed was still unmade.

But something was off.

By the way the laundry basket had been opened and the subtle smell of familiar cologne that fell around the room like a haze, you knew who had been in here while you were gone.

And his room was two doors down.

You thought about your options. You were drunk, which did not help.

You sighed. It was only for the fact that Laughing Jack had passed out drunk downstairs, otherwise, you knew you would be too frightened to do it.

Part of you also knew it was a bad idea. You had been trying to completely eradicate Jack from your life ever since you forced yourself to come to terms with the futility of the situation, and it was actually working. Sure, he seemed to be literally going insane without permission to take you whenever he wanted, but you had been making SOME progress!

You knew even more that you shouldn’t indulge him. He was learning to not need you, and you had been trying to forget him until the coast was clear.

It was for the better to leave it for now. To not pick up his hints of trespassing and borderline stalker behaviors, because you didn’t trust yourself around him. You knew you would falter at the slightest touch from him. You knew you should ignore it now, and confront him later.

You had to shake him off. You had to ignore it. You couldn’t give in.

So tell me why you were touching up your makeup and dragging a comb through your windswept hair? Tell me why you were spraying your favorite perfume on your neck and your thighs. Tell me why you were padding down the hallway, filled with adrenaline, and knocking on his door.

Do you EVER learn, Y/N?

He opened it in seconds.

“Hey…” you breathed out. This had to be your worst idea ever.

Fuck it, you deserved it.

His hand was closed around your wrist before he even answered, and he shut the door behind you.

////

“Okay okay, I’ve got the popcorn- everyone ready?” Brian asked, shutting the kitchen door with a tray in his hand, twelve bowls of popcorn balanced neatly on it.

“More than we’ll ever be!” Ben cheered out, scrambling to grab his bowl and nuzzling into the middle of the sofa next to Liu and Jane. You were sitting in front of them, comfortable on the carpet with Nina’s head in your lap like a kitten.

You were watching the official review of the Nation Interviews, which were being broadcast all around the city.

“This is gonna be a shitshow…” You heard Tim mutter from where he was leaning against the kitchen door. He refused to sit down, but his presence said enough about the importance of the program.

This was an unmissable event. It was an official rating and commentary on how the Nation had adjusted to you all, and what they thought about you. This more or less told you everything about how the trials would go.

“This is gonna be a fucking NIGHTMARREEEE-” Clockwork groaned from where she had claimed the armchair, slinging her feet over the edge of it.

Ben rummaged through the wires, trying to connect the huge TV to stream the Nation’s channels. The rest of you passed around blankets and got comfortable.

It was the night before Halloween. The ice chill from outside was lost in the blaze of the mansion’s fire. The lamps around you were warm, and you were all together.

You had never felt more at home.

“Okay, hitting play… now-” Ben clicked the remote control, and claimed a seat next to Jeff, who shoved him as far away as possible, and Jack, who had been…. satiated from last night, and was actually watching the screen.

“Who went first?” Jane asked, “Liu? Yours was good, I remember-” she hummed, and you all agreed,

“He was like a PRINCE!” Ben cooed, leaning over to ruffle Liu’s hair and knocking Jeff’s popcorn all over the sofa in the process, earning him a shove so hard he landed next to you on the ground, laughing so hard he was clutching his sides.

The introductory song boomed all over the living room, familiar trumpets giving you nervous butterflies at the memory of yesterday morning.

You never wanted to hear that theme song again.

Two of the Nation’s broadcasters appeared on the screen, a man and woman you had seen yesterday in the front row. They would be giving the run-down of the interviews.

After the context and ‘importance’ of the trials were discussed,  the woman turned to the camera, her microphone tight in hand,

“And our first candidate….!”

“OOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Ben and Toby started to drumroll on the floor and the coffee table, and Liu hid his face in his hands.

There was Splendorman in all his glory, commanding the stage with the same sun-like smile and extravagance you had seen in the flesh.

And then there was the audience. The same businessmen at the front row, the crowds of teenagers near the back. It had been just as you left it, and despite having seen it before, you couldn’t help but feel like this was the first time.

Then came Liu, strutting onto the stage and commanding immediate admiration.

“Oh, for fucks sake he IS like a prince-” Clockwork joked, “Look at you playing up to the cameras-” she tossed some popcorn in his direction as Liu flipped her off,

“It’s a talent few can replicate-” He joked, catching the popcorn in his mouth.

Throughout his interview, you all commended him and expressed envy at how well he held himself. He seemed, overall, pleased with the entire thing.

The two reporters were no different. Both of them flashed onto the screen, sitting in their broadcaster swivel chairs and grinning into their microphones,

“Now how about THAT for the first interview?” the one on the right beamed, “What a natural!”

“That’s Liu Woods, also known as Homicidal Liu,” the presenter said, and you, Jane, and Nina cheered at the alias, clearly poking fun at Jeff, who audibly scoffed.

The male presenter continued, “Well it certainly seems like some of the Nation have found their favorite!”

The camera cut to a group of teenage girls, some of them with merchandise rebrands of his scarf draped around their necks and babbling into reporters’ microphones about how beautiful he was and how they’d do anything for him.

Liu was gaping at the screen in shock.

“The Nation’s Harry Styles, how do you feel?” Ben faked holding a microphone to his mouth, and Liu only laughed, his cheeks tinged red.

“He’s cool-headed, he’s noble, he’s collected-” the female presenter listed into her microphone, “What more do we need?”

It seemed like Liu’s interview had set the bar extremely high because none of the others seemed to follow it, or even fare close. Jack was greeted with comments about his serious demeanor and his melancholic appearance, whilst Toby was cast off as being ‘scatter-brained and childlike’.

But it wasn’t until Tim and Brian’s interview did you realize something was off.

“Tim you are such a fucking POSER-” Ben joked, trying and failing to ruffle Tim’s hair. Throughout the interview, Tim had spoken eloquently and with a dignified sureness about him that commanded respect and authority. Brian did not say a word.

“What the fuck?!” Brian glared at the screen once the reporters began to give their views, “They cut out my lines!”

Even Tim looked confused.

You caught his gaze briefly, and it told you all you needed to know. It was the same gaze he had shot your way when Jason stumbled on his words last week. A gaze silently confirming that something was going on, and it wasn’t happenstantial.

“That’s so not on-” Brian shook his head, as the two broadcasters began to give their views,

“And there’s Masky and Hoodie- the duo who trained together their entire life, only to be thrown in to compete against one another-” the woman sighed out dramatically, “How TRAGIC!”

“Deadly,” Jane said sarcastically as the man spoke,

“We can tell Masky has a lot to say- but Hoodie seems awfully quiet, don’t ya think?”

“He’s shy!” the woman jested, and Brian gestured to the screen angrily,

“I’m NOT shy-” he huffed out.

They had painted Tim to look like this pompous know-it-all, and Brian to look like some mute, insecure guy who followed his every command. That could not be further from the truth. You felt angry FOR him.

The misconceptions only continued.

Clockwork was branded a natural fighter who ‘clearly had a revenge plan to eradicate her fellow candidates’. Helen was branded ‘unmotivated and aloof’ (which you knew after last night was likely a ploy to give the nation an excuse to turn away from him). Jane was branded as a woman with an affinity for occult practices. Jeff’s entire segment had been cut short.

You, however, were branded as a hero.

It was like they were being paid overtime to compliment you, and every sweet-laced word from their mouths made you cringe,

“She was fabulous, just like we all knew she’d be!” the male presenter boasted about you, whilst the woman next to him playfully smacked his arm,

“Now now, we can’t be biased!” she laughed jovially.

You wanted to die.

“Talk about fucking favoritism…” Jeff scoffed.

To make matters worse, half of your speech was cut out.

Everything you had said that nodded to those of lower class backgrounds… completely eradicated from the program.

Meaning the only ones who heard it were those who were in the studio that day... the only ones capable of silencing it.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to focus on the TV screen as they rhymed off your achievements, complimented your body language, alias, and morals, and buttered you up for the entire nation to hear about.

You felt like a party favor. You felt like a monument of old tradition and deeply rooted hatred.

It wasn't fair.

“It’s fucking rigged!” you scoffed, pointing to the TV and breaking the heavy silence in the room, “Half of the things I said were cut out! I swear, I never meant to-”

“It’s not your fault Y/N,”  Ben interrupted you gently.

It was only then you realized how frustrated you were. No one else spoke. You felt as though you were standing up there with the two broadcasters, waving and smiling like a pageant queen.

It would have been different if you were of equal standing. It would have been different if your interview was as exceptional as they made it out to be.

“They rigged them all…” Jane nodded in your direction, “They cut Brian’s lines out, they cut half of Nina’s interview, they only show us what they want us to see..”

Brian was still furious.

“Look at this!” he pointed to the screen, where they had now ranked the twelve of you in terms of how well they expected you to do in the trials based on the interviews, “This is propaganda!”

You followed his gaze to the list, where you were ranked at number 1.

If you hadn’t been so secure because of your birthright, they’d have likely cast you out as someone who advocated for the rights of the mindless and thrown you to the bottom of the board.

Instead, it was Helen.

You felt defeated. This was the first time in your entire life you had been fucked over by the system and silenced. You could only imagine how the rest of them felt.

The next hour was spent rapidly complaining about the government and how they were exploiting you for their own entertainment. By the end of the night, it was clear that you were all on the same page, and as Ben had put it: ‘At least we know the truth’’.

You knew that was most important, but you couldn’t help but conclude that the entire system was turning a profit each time they fucked one of you over.

You had to be smarter. You had to work twice as fast, twice as hard if you wanted to get the better of them.

and as much as you had been putting it off... you knew you had to talk to Tim.

/////

Later that night, when everyone had gone to bed, and you and the girls were having a cup of tea in the kitchen, you overheard two distinct voices, talking low in the living room.

You weren’t exactly eavesdropping. Okay, if you had asked Clockwork, she’d have proudly said she was eavesdropping.

But they knew you were in there, so it was their fault that you heard their conversation... totally not Jane’s, who was leaning against the kitchen door with a glass pressed against it to amplify the sounds of their voices.

“They’re fucking liars, it’s all media bullshit, I’ve been saying it from day one- the government don’t give a shit about us-” Jeff snapped,

“You need to control your temper-” Liu retaliated, “They have the upper hand, Jeff,”

“Oh fuck off Liu, like you know what the fuck you’re talking about-”

“You’re doing yourself no fucking favors,” Liu spat in his direction.

Nina’s eyes widened from where she was sitting next to you. Both you and her were on the floor, cross-legged whilst Jane and Clockwork stood over you, all four of your ears pressed to the door.

“And you are? Sucking up to the camera? At least I’m being honest,”

“This entire fucking thing is a game Jeff and you know it! You know it most of all!” Liu sighed, “All you talk about is how they’re playing this game and fucking it up for us, and then you’re sabotaging yourself! Play it fucking smart,” he snapped, “You think I don’t think the same? You think I don’t know you’re right?!”

Jeff, for once, didn’t say anything,

“You have to beat them, play them at their own damn game, don’t LET them do it-” Liu glared, “Mom and dad are so fucking worried about you, you know what seeing that did to them?!”

Liu continued. Clockwork slipped slightly, and Jane whacked her leg to get her to shut up,

“You’re gonna end up in those trials with nothing,” he hissed, “Stop being so proud and actually use your brain- what did everyone say about the interview?”

“Andromeda said I’m gonna send her to an early grave…”

“She was with Mom all night consoling her,” Liu snapped, “I don’t care what you do after these trials Jeff, but I swear to God, if you hurt our parents, I’ll come and kill you myself,”

There was a brief silence and a muttering of what you assumed to be an agreement through the muffled tones of the walls. Either way, Jeff’s heavy footsteps disappeared upstairs, whilst Liu’s made their way toward the kitchen door.

You had never seen four people move so fast in your entire life.

Nina had grabbed your arms to hoist the two of you up, whilst Jane grabbed her glass of wine, and Clockwork hopped up onto the counter, both of them acting like the four of you had been in deep conversation,

Liu swung open the door, tired eyes telling the truth behind his friendly smile,

“Brothers, right?”

Chapter Text

Tonight was the Halloween Ball.

Back in early September, when you first read about this Ball in the information package, it had seemed like an event that would be taking place so long in the future that you couldn’t even imagine attending it, and now, here you were.

You remember all those feelings that came to you that day, back when you didn’t know anyone. Sitting alone in your room, sipping your tea and thinking over every interaction you had taken part in throughout the ceremonial dinner. You remember the nerves, the imposter syndrome, the dread.

Now you sat, looking at yourself in the same room, at the same vanity table. The reflection of a girl so different than then stared back at you. Longer hair, brighter eyes, taller posture, bigger smiles.

It was as if you had watched yourself snap into life and begin to live it.

It was early afternoon on October 31st, and no matter how much the day climbed on, the sky didn’t falter from a dismal, almost dreary shade of grey. The clouds were gone, the wind had stopped, and all that was left was absence. There was no birdsong, no rustling trees. Nothing.

But it was Halloween night, and you were about to get all dressed up with your best friends to go and attend a ball.

Who cared about the weather?

///

“Think Mother Nature knows it’s Halloween?” Clockwork asked, leaning against your windowpane and gazing up at the dull skies, “It’s like… completely grey out there…”

It had only gotten darker from earlier, enough so that all of the lamps in the mansion had been flicked on, just to let you see each other like it wasn’t literally 4 p.m. You nodded in agreement with her,

“Apparently this ball’s not supposed to be formal…” Nina grinned, combing her knee-length hair out of her face, “The Winter Ball’s the fancy one, this is supposed to be like a proper Halloweeen party-”

“Good, cus I’m too tired to go out and act like I wanna be there…” Jane groaned from your bed, lying face down. She’d contracted the flu just last night, likely from someone in the Nation, and was whining every time she had to move with her aching bones.

“Let’s go miss witch up up up-” Clockwork snorted, tugging her up by the hands. She was dressed in her usual, olive-skinned coat, and white tank top, with the exception of a pair of fluffy wolf ears on her head. According to her, she had just been transformed.

Nina, on the other hand, was meticulously painting her makeup onto her face, having chosen to go as Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas. She was currently working on the stitches and demanded absolute silence in the room until she was done.

You were going as an angel. Dressed in a simple white dress with a pretty halo on your head and satin ballet slippers, you couldn’t have looked more beautiful if you tried.

“Jesus Y/N you look hot-” Clockwork whistled from where she sat, her hands laced behind her head as her fake fangs shone through her grin. You bat her off playfully, a blush on your face as you begun to paint your nails.

“Knowing Jack, he’s probably already planning a devil costume to coordinate with you-” Jane snorted,

“Well, unfortunately for him, Laughing Jack’s gonna be here tonight, so he has NO chance-” you retorted with a laugh, and they all returned it. Everytime Jack was mentionned, his ‘mysterous-cool-guy’ persona slipped more and more into a walking red flag for the four of you to laugh at.

They had no idea you had fucked him the other night, and call you a villain, but you were doing a great job at hiding your desire behind annoyance. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, they just didn’t seem to like his possessiveness as much as you did, and you just didn’t want to risk being overheard by Laughing Jack, and punished again. Your thighs still made you wince everytime you touched them.

The Admin, as well as a few high-ranking officials, would be coming to the mansion tonight for the party. It was to be a dinner, and then a real ball in one of the old ballrooms, which you hadn’t been in since you were younger. Your dad was never one for fancy parties, so it clattered more spiders and cobwebs than dancers, and soon, it laid dormant.

Right now, however, it was being furnished by a few of your dad’s lasting underlings who hadn’t been paid off for the ongoing war. You felt a flutter in your chest at the idea of it- going to a real-life ball.

Clockwork fastened your pearl necklace around your neck as NIna finished off her makeup and pulled out the hair straighteners,

“Okay, she’s done let's put some music on,” Clockwork jeered, playfully drumming her hands on her thighs before connecting her speaker and putting on a Halloween playlist.

The Monster Mash, an obvious cult classic, began to blare, and the four of you start what you could only compare to a disco for the blind, with absolutely no coordination in your dance moves and absolutely no hope with your voices.

“This is making me feel so in the mood to party!” Nina laughed, beginning to straighten her hair (whilst still dancing) as Jane finally dragged herself to her feet. Even she couldn’t resist the Monster Mash.

The four of you continued dancing together, laughing and spinning around to the song. Clockwork was using your hairbrush as a microphone, and was spinning Jane around, acting as though she was the object of her performance.

A loud bang at the door jolted you away from the moment,

“IS THAT THE MONSTER MASH I HEAR?!” Ben asked from outside, and you laughed, opening it to let him in,

He was dressed as Finn from adventure time- blonde hair poking through the hat on his head, and he slipped into the room to dance with you all, immediately grabbing Nina’s hairbrush to spin around and sing into next to Clockwork.

The four of you had the time of your lives, twirling and swaying the entire way through Thriller, Ghostbusters, Spooky Scary Skeletons, and Somebody’s Watching Me, and you looked like the most unexpected cinquet ever: an angel, Finn from adventure time, a werewolf, a witch and Sally.

If this had been the actual party, you wouldn’t have complained.

A knock on the door eventually snapped you out of it, and Brian’s voice called through,

“Admin are here guys!”

///

The Admin spent an entire hour boring you with ground rules, no overdrinking, no trying to sabotage each other (as if you would), no going to bed before 11 pm, no smoking, and definitely no sex. If it hadn’t have been the adrenaline from your pre-party upstairs, you would have fallen asleep:

You felt Jack’s gaze on you. You didn’t return it.

The party officially started at 7 p.m., and the twelve of you had been completely shut out of the dining room and kitchen until then, due to Candypop ‘not trusting certain people to stay away from the buffet’.

“Just say my name next time-” Ben had joked, but his charm got him nowhere.

You opted to lie on the stairway and wait to be called once the party began.

Toby was lying on the ground at your feet, his blood-stained shirt and red tie lying askew as he tossed his hatchet between his hands,

“Who are you meant to be?” Liu asked from where he sat against the wall, a ghost-face mask in his hands,

“Pa-trick Bateman, duh- get it?” Toby showed his signature weapon, and Liu nodded in approval.

You took time to admire the costumes around you, whilst leaning on Nina’s shoulder and waiting for the guests to arrive. Every second that went by increased your hunger level, and you were starting to lose it.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the two front doors opened, and you all rushed to peek out from between the banister rails to see them come in.

You saw the Admin first. Laughing Jack didn’t really change much, deciding just to stick with the scary clown thing. Jason was dressed in a red masquerade mask, Candypop had gone all out as Jigsaw, Kagekao had decided to be a dead man walking (with fake knives sticking out of his heart), and Andromeda had gone as a gothic bride.

You saw Korbyn, the bus driver you had come to know well, enter, dressed as a fortune teller, with Cody, the guy with the brown hair who had helped you out with seats and snacks whilst doing your assessments dressed as a mad scientist. You smiled own to the two of them, but they didn’t see you from where you were hidden.

Most of the government officials didn’t dress up, but you saw a few costumes in the mix. Dina, the Grand Judge, was dressed as a fallen angel, a black halo on her head. She looked beautiful.

“They better hurry up… I’m starving…” Brian groaned as Jeff squinted his eyes down to where they were all standing. You tried to follow his gaze, but he quickly looked away.

And then Candypop’s heavy footsteps were on the stairs and he met you all with a grin,

“Ready my candidates?” he grinned. His tone of voice made you feel like you were taking an exam rather than attending a ball, and you wished he would leave you alone. Plus, you were fucking starving. Famished, even. Obviously you were ready. You had been waiting all this time.

You pulled yourself up and followed them down, noting Helen tense from next to you.

You couldn't get what he had told you the other night off your mind. He had grown up loathing these people and feeling threatened by their very presence. Now, he was being forced to mingle and talk to them like he actually enjoyed their company. Like his two best friends at home weren't living in a run-down apartment, surviving on rations, and shivering at night. You couldn’t imagine his rage right now.

You reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze. He looked down at you,

“Thanks…” he whispered out, and the two of you walked in side by side.

“Good evening candidates-” Your dad said kindly from where he stood at his seat at the end of the table, clutching a wine glass. He was wearing all white, and you swapped glances with a few of the others, trying to guess what he was dressed as, but before you could even get your own in, a round of applause caught your attention.

It was the entie body of government officials, all standing up to greet you. Applauding. It felt untimely and frankly, kind of awkward in your dining room, especially considering they were all of the highest elites and you were just here for the buffet and the ball. You heard Ben stifle laughter from next to you, and Helen give you a look of ‘Are they being fucking serious right now?’

“Sit! Sit!” your dad nodded after letting them applaud the twelve of you for at least a minute longer than necessary, and you all took seats at either end. The last time you’d been in here was the ceremonial dinner. You had become used to eating in the kitchen over the tiny, three-seat table, and being in a room where all of you could eat together felt weird.

Just like last time, you sat next to Clockwork, who was tapping her fingers on the table and waiting for your dad’s speech to be over so she could eat.

Your dad’s speech went on forever.; he was thanking you, thanking the Admin, thanking his team. He might as well have started from Adam and Eve and just started thanking from there. You loved youe dad, but the food smelled so fucking good. You had droned his voice out, until the words you wanted to here boomed around the room,

“And with that, I bid you Happy Halloween, and you may all tuck in!”

It had just turned 8 p.m., and the shadows of the full moon were beginning to shine from the windows through the now pitch-black skies.

“Nice to see a bit of light-” you heard one of the government men joke from the top of the table,

“Was it the same over in the nation?” Candypop asked them, biting into some steak, “It’s been dreary all day here-”

“Bright as anything over there!” another chimed in, “We thought it was the trees at first when we drove into the forest grounds- but it seems like the whole place has been cast in shadows-”

You saw Candypop’s smile falter.

You had been eavesdropping. You tried to look for Tim’s gaze and found it staring right back at you. A silent confirmation washed over you. You had been listening together, and he had agreed that something didn't sound right.

They switched conversations soon after, talking about the trade markets, but you knew by Candypop’s face that he was just as unsettled as you were.

The night, however, carried on as normal.

By eleven, you had moved to the ballroom, full and in the perfect beginning stages of tipsiness. If you needed anything right now, it was to dance.

The place was flooded with people, most dressed up, filling the space and creating a busy, yet seasonally appropriate, Halloween environment. Whilst the dinner had been limited to you, the Admin, and the government officials and higher-ups, the ball had been open to a hundred-or-so specially selected members of the nation. Granted, they were all in the 1%, but it was nice to see some faces your age for once.

They were laughing, drinking, dancing to music, and practically doing everything that shed their importance in society and painted them as regular people, enjoying each other’s company.

It was also great to talk to your dad without the feeling of a dozen men’s eyes on you.

“Dad!” you called, rushing to him as he stood trying to heighten the volume on the old record player,

“Ah, there you are! I need you to help me fix this!” he said with glee and tugged you toward him, “It’s much too quiet!”

You twisted the nozzle for volume upward. The music, to his absolute shock, got louder.

“Genius…” he trailed off, shaking his head at you.

“Who are you dressed as?” you asked him, looking him up and down confusedly as he let out a booming laugh,

“My dear!” he cackled, before bowing down to show you the yellow on top of his head, “I am a boiled egg!”

You have never laughed so hard in your life.

/////

“Please,”

“Jack, I mean it,”

“Y/N… he’s not here…”

“Get off me.”

You were currently standing at the fountain of champagne, pouring yourself another drink. Jack was standing right behind you, his hands on your hips, whining and begging for a shred of your attention.

“He’ll be back any minute…” you said to him again as he whined into your neck.

You were currently annoyed at him. Clearly, he still didn’t get the memo that you couldn’t flirt in public.

The more you spoke to Jack, the more you realized how much he valued having sex with you, and how little he valued respecting your boundaries. But anyways.

You were beginning to wonder if the tea party was a ruse. That side of him had disappeared that night and never came back. Handsome, humble Jack? Yeah, in your dreams.

The Jack he had become was desperate and starving, and only spoke to you in hushed tones and secret touches at all the wrong moments.

Although you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t partially your fault, too. You had indulged him. You were still indulging him, so really, you had no right to be mad at him.

But still.

Right now was riskier than ever. Laughing Jack and Candypop had disappeared a few moments ago, and he had beelined for you the second the doors closed, with no consideration for either of your safety.

“I need you, Y/N…” he practically begged, and your cursed your own body at how it betrayed you. You felt the heat pool at your thighs, and hitched your breath.

Jesus Christ, you WERE just as bad.

“Jack, I seriously mean it right now, they’ll be back any minute… we really can’t…”

Part of you was mad that he was risking your safety for his own gain. The other part of you wanted to get down on your knees and thank him for it with-

The doors swung open. You spotted the monochrome tones of Laughin Jack’s outfit, and immediately darted in the opposite direction from Jack, not realising what he had put into your drink until you saw him at the other side of the room, talking to Ben and acting like… that hadn’t happened.

A small piece of paper- folded up.

You pocketed it in your dress, and made your way to one of the expensive chaise longues that Laughing Jack was sat on, sipping his own drink. Time to get some information on the Nation.

Where did he disappear to, just then:? You knew, by his unsteady focus and jittery hands, that something was going on.

“There’s my good little candidate-” Laughing Jack greeted as you made your way to him, “just the girl I wanted to see…”

“Where were you?” you bat your eyelashes up to him, taking a seat next to him. He was tipsy. You could use that. His formalities had shifted slightly because he reached down to twirl a strand of your hair around his sharp claw,

“Don’t you worry about that….” he patronized, tapping your nose with another finger and tugging you closer to him, “Best behavior tonight, right kiddo?”

You sighed. He wasn’t tipsy enough.

You had wanted to figure out where he had disappeared to for the third time tonight. During the dinner, he was gone. Then, at the beginning of the ball, he left for fifteen minutes. Then again for another fifteen.

After the looming greyness of the day, and the awkward conversation you had heard from Candypop and the government official, you knew things had to be linked. Something was going on.

But you knew by the sureness of his tone that you weren’t getting that information tonight. You only hoped Tim could pull something from Candypop.

You cleared your throat and nodded, “Always…”

“Good girl… see how well you listen to your mentor…” he hummed, his hand on your hip. You thought it was funny how the rules he loved so much didn't apply to him, but you said nothing. You knew better than to get on his bad side, now.

To your saving graces, the door opened again, and you spotted Candypop looking at him desperately.

Where on earth were they going?

You wre frustrated, because you knew they had reflexes and senses that you could totally outwit sober. They hadn’t trained their entire lives for this. You knew you could outsmart them easily. But right now, you were drunk. They had you beat.

“I’ll just be a moment, sweetheart-” Laughing Jack grinned down to you, and disappeared out of the ballroom again.

You groaned out loud. That was a waste of your time. All you got were sleazy hands and patronising comments.

But hey, you thought, he was gone.

You looked around. Kagekao was drinking wine with Dina, Jason was nowhere to be seen- likely out with the others, the Old Man was talking to your dad, and Andromeda was in a conversation with Clockwork and Jeff. You could risk it.

You opened Jack’s note to see his cursive handwriting,

Y/N,

Meet me tonight in the garden next to the roses, midnight sharp

- Yours <3

You knew, by some inevitable intrinsic form of self-assurance, that you were going to go, no matter how much you pretended you didn’t want to. No matter how much you groaned and huffed and pretended he was nothing but a crazy loved-up idiot, you knew you would be right by that rose garden at midnight. You had accepted it.

You looked at the grand clock hung on the wall. It was 11:55 pm.

Jack was nowhere to be seen.

If this procession followed the previous two, then Laugihng Jack would be gone for fifteen minutes.

You had one chance.

“What do you mean your middle name is Gerard?!” Andromeda drunkenly cackled as Jeff rolled his eyes, “As in Gerard Way?”

“No- well yeah, technically, but that’s not the reason why!” he glared at her,

“You’re like, the biggest emo I’ve ever met, and your middle name’s Gerard… Jeffrey Alan Gerard Woods…” she mocked him, and he was glaring daggers at her,

“That's a mouthful-” Clockwork chimed in, spinning around at your presence as you tugged her out of the way, cocking your head at the conversation going on,

“If anyone asks, I went up to bed to check on Jane-” you nodded. Jane had left as soon as it struck 11 to lie down. Clockwork got the jist. She knew where you were going. She wasn’t stupid.

“USE PROTECTION!” she called after you.

You rushed out of the ballroom, your angel wings flapping behind you, and down the empty staircase. No footsteps, no sounds could be heard. Coast was clear.

You made it outside and breathed in the chill of the night. The ballroom had verged between hot and stuffy- this was a nice release.

You took a left, immediately sheltered from view by the flower bushes, and tiptoed through the garden.

And there you saw his silhouette- tall, dark and illuminated by only moonlight.

He was dressed as a dead waiter- blood-stained shirt and loose necktie.

Your shoulders fell.

He looked beautiful.

“You came,” his voice said, and he turned around. His sharp teeth glinted with the reflection of the moon, and his eye-sockets wre so dark you swore they held something brighter than the stars inside of them.

“You called,” you answered.

You had never seen him like this. It was like all of the build-up, all of the times you had avoided his gaze tonight, all of the forced irritation and anticipation had led to this moment. You crossed the garden in seconds, throwing your arms around his neck.

His hands were on your hips, and he immediately tugged you against him, his teeth on your neck, kissing and swirling his tongue around you with needy groans.

You leaned up and whined out, before slamming your lips onto his.

The two of you stayed like that for a while- swaying and holding each other in the pale moonlight. If you were the main character, this was a romance book, demon-boyfriend or not.

Everytime he kissed you, you seemed to forget about the ways he annoyed you. Your mind was blank, and all you could think of was more, more, more. You’d let him do anything to you, so long as he didn’t let go.

In seconds, the two of you had made it onto one of the huge benches, hidden behind archways of flowers. You were laid down, blood-red petals brushing your face and thighs tightly wrapped around his waist,

“God… Jack…” you groaned out, and you felt him smirk against your skin, where he had been nipping at it over and over,

The full moon above you shone bright as though keeping watch, and if you had been sober, you’d have felt tainted. Fucking a demon in an angel costume in your rose garden?

That had to set some kind of impurity record.

“I need you… you have no idea how badly… how desperately I need you, Y/N… I’’ve been… so hungry….”

Typically, Jack was rough. He was no stranger to leaving bite marks and bruises along your soft skin, and treating you like a porcelain doll he loved to break over and over again. You had only recalled him ever being gentle once, and it was during your first date, after talking about traveling the world.

Right now, though, he was uncontrollable, more than ever. His lips and teeth pierced into your skin, his huge hands held you down, and you yelped out,

“J-jack it hurts…!” you moaned, tears in your eyes

“Fucking admin…” he growled,too caught up in his annoyance to care. His voice was like nothing you’d ever heard before, low and guttural, “taking you from me… I can smell his fucking scent on your skin…”

You knew he was talking about Laughing Jack, and you let out something between a moan and a squeal when he pushed his two fingers into you without warning. Your underwear was soaked, and he tore it off, shoving it into his pocket,

“You’re mine, Y/N… understand that? No one else can touch you…”

The part of you that knew this was a red flag was tied up and gagged at the back of your mind,

“I understand,” you moaned.

“Then you can’t blame me for what I’m about to do…” he said with a final tone.

To your utter shock, he began to lick you. His tongue traced all the way from your hipbones to your nipples, sucking and kissing marks all over. If you had any mind, you'd have thought-

“J-Jack…” you began, watching as he sized you up, “W-what are you doing…?”

“Getting ready to taste you baby…”

You had a strange feeling he wasn’t talking about your pussy right now.

“I’ve been so damn hungry, Y/N…” he purred out, holding you in place as you writhed, your eyes wide with an unknowing of what he was about to do next, “I’ve been starving, all this time… you have no idea what it’s like to watch you when all I want to do is is claim you for myself…”

Starving. Hungry.

Flashes of him refusing food played in your mind as a single conclusion came to you like a shotgun to the side of your temple.

The date. The dinners. The avoidance when talking about it. His obsession with owning you.

Jack wasn’t just any regular demon.

Jack was a cannibal.

“Jack, are you su-"

He slammed his lips onto yours almost viciously, his hands and fingerprints pressing into your supple skin before he quickly pushed himself into you. You yelped at the feeling of him inside you, but you couldn't deny how good it was. You wre so far gone, you didn’t even want him to stop. You didn't even care that he wanted to consume you right now. Hell, you’d probably enjoy it.

“All mine… cannibalism is the finest form of possession, you know…” he hummed matter-of-factly, baring his teeth just above your ribcage.

Oh my god, he was actually going to-

And just before you could protest, a scream sliced through the night.

It was blood-curdling, loud enough to make you both jolt up and make him briefly forget about his meal.

“We can’t be seen here… we have to go, now,” you rushed out, and for the first time ever, he understood, scooping you into his arms and immediately slipping in through the back door, and round the alcove of your dad’s study where no one could see you.

This was bad. Something had happened and neither of you had a good enough alibi.

“Don’t breathe…” he whispered, holding you close to him as loud footsteps raced toward you, and bounded out the back door. That had to be the admin. You leant into his warmth, and felt a little more relaxed by the way he was softly rubbing his hand up and down your side.

When the coast was clear, you filed out of the mansion, joining the rest of your housemates at the scene, where they were standing in the midst of the forest. Smoke surrounded you- thick and heavy- that smelt faintly of firewood and made you cough when you inhaled.

Everyone, bar Jane was standing at the foot of the forest, squinting through the fog, watching the Admin rush to the source of the scream. To anyone on the outside, they looked like a pack of wolves, hunting down found prey.

“Where did it come from?!” you heard Candypop’s call in the distance. Another voice answered, but you couldn’t make it out.

You were terrified.

Jack’s arm wrapped tight around your waist and tugged you close to him. You had your hand on his chest, as the twelve of you swapped confused, yet concerned gazes. Noone spoke. All you could feel was the freezing cold air around you. All you could hear were calls and shouts.

A sudden, haunting dog’s howl drew your attention to a clearing, with trees and broken branches and the sight of a silhouette, lying on the floor.

A twang was heard, and a sharp arrow shot through the darkness and into the side of the dogs leg, before any of you could even process that it had been there. It screeched in pain and fell to one side, and the twelve of you rushed to the scene.

“Who is it? Hang on, noone touch anything-” Brian ordered, and you peered down at the body in front of you.

There, sprawled out, positively dead, was your coach driver, Korbyn.

Her fortune teller’s hairband was pulled over her bloodstained face, opened into a scream, and an arrow pierced through her heart. A blade lay next to her right hand.

“Oh my god…” Nina hitched her breath. The girl who had told you about the diversion, and drove you everywhere you needed, had been murdered.

You stared at it in horror, hearing blurry conversations, until the admin came back, Kagekao immediately outlining her body before examining it.

The black sky above you only served as a mockery.

You felt like you couldn’t move, yet everything around you zoomed and sped.

“We need to find out the exact cause, time, and place of death-” Laughing Jack nodded, “All of you go back, we can handle it from here,”

But that didn't satisfy you or your housemates. She had been your bus driver. Sure, you weren’t ride-or-die, but she had shown you some form of kindness when you knew nothing. She had helped you. You weren’t walking away just like that.

“No,”

To your surprise, it was Jeff.

He was crouched down, reaching out toward the dog- a large husky, whimpering in pain. His pale hand ran through it’s fur, and he turned to you all,

“Has anyone got bandages?” he demanded, and Andromeda rushed to its other side, immediately handing him some.

There, in the deafening silence, the two of them slowly bandaged the dog up, its paw bleeding and its fangs bared.

You suddenly remembered his affinity for dealing with animals.

The twelve of you, now including the admin around you, watched as they worked, communicating only through looks and procedures.

“He’ll live…” Andromeda muttered, standing up as Candypop snarled,

“A stupid animal has no place in this… one of our colleagues was murdered!” he snapped, turning to Jeff and the rest of you, “All of you, back to the mansion,”

“I’m taking the dog,” Jeff cut in, already hoisting it up into his hold,

“You can’t take the dog-” Laughing Jack glared in his direction, “It’s an important piece of-”

“It’s hurt,” Jeff hissed, , “I’m taking it back to the mansion,”

“You-”

“He’s taking it back-” Andromeda snapped up to him, and the tension froze like ice. The Admin had never shown opposing sides to anything before. You could tell Laughing Jack wanted to say something, but for the sake of the night, he kept his mouth shut.

“He’s clearly been here, it’s not safe for any of you-” Candypop interjected. You didn’t need a degree to know who He was.

“Surely this is the ideal hands-on experience?” Tim argued, “Actually getting involved with this?”

“It’s still not safe-” Candypop hissed, “go back, and then we’ll let you help once we know it’s clear, we can;t risk losing any of you before the trials even start-”

The word even stood out like a body in a forest, but now wasn’t the time to bring that up.

Another voice caught your attention,

“Yo, guys-” Clockwork called, and you all followed her gaze.

There, a few feet over from where you stood, grew a fresh bed of blood-red roses, blooming brilliant and beautiful and delicate. There had to be at least 50 of them, staring up at you with an air of grace and decorum that took your breath away.

They had never been there before.

You had no idea how they had grown so fast, and this lead you to the most reasonable explanation, which was that they were likely a ploy or some sort of signal sent from the Underground. You knew they weren’t as pretty as they looked.

“They’re dangerous- they’re probably poisoned- he’s sent them as a mark of his presence,” Laughing Jack said.

Again, you didn't have to ask to know who he was. He had been knocking you awake most mornings for weeks.

The air around you felt thicker as the realization poured over you.

This wasn’t like the diversion. This wasn’t like the four civillians, murdered in their homes in the nation.

This was a direct attack.

Chapter Text

You were finally talking to Tim.

It had been a crazy few weeks, to say the least, between the nation interviews, everything with Jack, and the sudden death of your coach driver, Korbyn. The woman you were a month ago and the woman you are now did not even exist on the same astral plane. 

You were grateful for it. The woman you are now could take her down without a second thought.

Throughout it all, however, this inevitable conversation loomed like an ever-present item on a to-do list in your mind, one which you looked at every day and proceeded to procrastinate in the name of more important events. 

But here you were. Finally.

Your schedule had been clear for once. You had been ordered to stay indoors and NOT meddle with ‘the Admin Affairs’, (which you knew meant ‘Don’t be nosy about the murder last week’.) The twelve of you had spent the entire day together, eating breakfast, debating over who killed her, rehearsing the entire event over and over until no ones alibi went untraced (which was embarrassing when you had to awkwardly fumble your way through an excuse to cover up you and Jack being in the rose gardens past midnight), but it worked out. 

Suffice to say, information was fresh in your mind and if any day was the day to be talking theories, it was today.

So here you were, holed up in a corner of the library, surrounded by dusty old history books and speaking in hushed tones with Tim. 

You had both made a point to get this out of the way as civil and quickly as possible, swearing not to let it fall into an argument because the topics at hand were much too important to fall victim to your own cursed tongues.

Sure, he annoyed the fucking life out of you. Tell me one thing worse than the only other guy you had on the same page as you, be the guy you couldn’t stand to be around. You can’t. 

And if you thought he was gonna be all nice and understanding because you were standing on common ground for once, you were dead wrong. 

“You’re sure that’s what you heard?” he asked you in a tone that both mocked and undermined you. He was barely even listening. Instead, he thumbed through one of the books and scanned the blurbs at the back. How he managed to start off on such a bad note should have shocked you, but you were prepared for this. 

“I think I’d know what someone knocking on my walls sounds like,” you shot up to him from your beanbag, leaning boredly on your palm. He was still looking skeptical. 

You honestly didn’t know what you expected. 

“Yeah, but how do you know it wasn’t just a dream, or maybe you THOUGHT you hea-”

There was no way he was gaslighting you right now. 

You lost your temper, rightfully, 

“Ya know what Tim,” you said, matter-of-factly, “If you’re just gonna sit here, in MY library, going on and on about your own dumbass research while refusing to listen to mine, I don’t give a fuck about helping you-”

And with that, you pulled yourself onto your feet, immediately storming for the door. Fuck him and his self-righteousness. 

“My research was not dumb and you know it-” he shot. 

So THAT’S what he pulled from this. Great to know his narcissism was consistent.

“You really think, with every single part of you, that Zalgo DIDN’T grow those roses last week?” you span around, fingertips lingering on the door handle. 

You ignored the way he winced at the name. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N, of course, he didn’t- how could he grow roses overnight?” he scoffed as if YOU were the one coming off with crazy claims, “You didn’t even bother to hear me out, so-”

You crossed your arms, “So what? You don’t like it when someone just casts away YOUR take on the whole thing? Oh, I wonder how that feels!” 

He seemed to get your point, because he bit down on his tongue and instead, ran a hand through his chestnut hair, 

“Ya know what,” he huffed, “Come back, sit down, I’ll hear you out”

You raised your eyebrows. You knew that would get the point across. 

So you explained it: the banging on the walls, Nina’s confusion when you brought it up the next morning, the simple fact that it had begun the day that the red mist hit, how you weren’t experiencing any other symptoms listed in the information guide, how you knew- despite the lack of proof- that it meant something more than just an empty threat.

And you hated to admit it, but getting it off your chest made you feel sane. Even if it was Tim you were venting to. 

With every detail you said, he scribbled down words on a huge whiteboard with the speed of someone trying to save sand falling through their fingertips. He only cut you off once, 

“Hang on go back, shut up a sec- what was that thing you said about a shadow?”

“That night, through the mist-” you said,

“Before the banging?”

You nodded in confirmation, “It was only there for a few seconds, I never saw it again- except for that time in the forest…”

“What time in the forest?”

You told him about that time, which seemed like forever ago, when you knew you weren't alone in the forest. When you had heard something- when it had shot down the crows- when it had hunted you back into your kitchen. 

You had moved to sit on one of the tables, facing the whiteboard, kicking your feet back and forth as he paced and wrote everything down.

“Your handwriting is terrible-” you criticized with a laugh. He flipped you off without turning around to face you, 

“That had to be scarecrow… “ he mumbled, “you know, one of… HIS-”

“Just say Zalgo-”

He rolled his eyes and snapped toward you, “Ya know, this would be easier if you didn't interrupt me so much,” he hissed.

“How are we supposed to get anywhere if you can’t even say the word Zalgo?” you fired back. 

He looked at you, sucking his top teeth with an air of intimidation you never quite caught. But what was the difference between whispering it and screaming it from the rooftops? If what everyone said was true, and he COULD hear you, then he could probably do so whether you whispered it or not. Better to go down fighting than be dragged by the throat. 

“I can say it-” he argued, 

“Say it then,”

He took a deep breath,  “One of… Zalgo’s… underlings-”

“Well done,” you mocked him, and he continued, 

“The Operator-”

“My dad-"

He was fun to fuck around with.

“Y/N!” he snapped, 

“Sorry,” you said, as he huffed and spoke again, 

“The Operator told us… Remember she was arrested, found with a compass- that must have been her-”

You shook your head, “She was arrested before she could get here, remember? She got caught on her way to the forest, which means that she never actually made it here in the first place… that rules her out”

“SO it had to be another underling,” he nodded

“IF it were an underling at all, how do we know it wasn’t Zalgo himself?” you posed, but he shut you down,

“We’d know, trust me,” he said.

“Oh sorry, I forgot you were lifelong friends…” you muttered with an eye-roll, picking at the chipped wood on the desk. He ignored you, 

“So we don’t know who did that, okay-” he drew a large question mark around the phrase ‘SHADOW’ on the whiteboard, before scribbling down the next conversation point.

“DIVERSION- this was the first technical attack, before the red mist-” he explained, 

“That was clearly created to keep us in one place- like animals,” you nodded and watched him scribble it down, “Then there was the attack on the innocent, those four civilians,” you added, “Which we still don’t have names for, I’ve triple checked every newspaper I could find,”

“Gave up on your online articles?” he mocked. You flipped him off. He smirked sardonically. 

“This is something I’m having trouble with,” you said, and he clicked the pen shut to listen to you, “I’m finding it real hard to believe he just… murdered four innocent civilians when everything else he does seems so meticulous and planned… it’s a discrepancy in his usual actions,”

“In what way?”

“I mean, with him randomly killing innocents, it only opened up a space for us to retaliate… it was almost ASKING us to retaliate, and it’s basic fact that our side has a way bigger military force… so why would he disadvantage himself and his underworld like that? It seems like a stupid decision, but if it WAS by him, then it had to have some deeper meaning…”

You were babbling, you knew you were babbling, but you couldn’t help it. It felt so good to get this out when it had been residing inside you for weeks like a parasite of knowledge and hunger. 

“What if he did it to send a warning of war?” Tim asked, but you shook your head,

“The diversion was a warning… the roses were a warning, even Korbyn was a warning- murdering four random civilians with no significance? He doesn’t send warnings like that… plus, even if it WERE a warning, the events are like, mixed up,”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- he went from fucking up roads and pathways to all of a sudden murdering four people, and then to murdering one person… surely it should have gone from him murdering one person to murdering those four, it’s like he did it in the wrong order- I don’t get why he would strike hard before striking easy again, it makes no sense…”

There was a pause, and you noticed how he looked around before leaning in slightly. He pulled up a chair, sat down on it, and gazed up at you, still perched on the table, before speaking in a low voice, 

“Y/N… are you thinking that Zalgo didn’t do this?”

You paused slightly. This was a big claim to make. By saying Zalgo didn’t do this insinuated someone else did and therefore complicated everything. You had to choose your words very wisely here, 

“I’m just saying the murder of the civilians is a huge fucking loophole…” you trailed off, 

“We’ll come back to this-” he nodded, adding a question mark next to the word ‘CIVILIANS’ on the board. 

There was a glint in his eye though, that told you he was with you, and somehow that made you feel a whole lot better. 

“I wanted to talk to you about this, too-” he tugged out his satchel from under the table and tossed some newspapers onto it for both of you to examine, “I’ve had all of these stored from the dates that they came out-”

You had been doing your fair share of reading too, but seeing all of the front headlines together really made everything line up. The civilian attack made the front page every single day. You scanned over them:

“Admin work tirelessly to protect the fallen’

‘Preparations to combat injustice fully underway’

‘“Retaliation is inevitable!” says Candypop, one of our beloved Admin’

‘They began the war, we will end it- and how the government is planning to do so’ 

You skimmed through more, all of them along the same lines: outcries about the war, the Admin doing more than their bit… until you saw one that didn't quite fit in with the others. You pulled it onto your lap and read:

‘Band of radical resistance members arrested on suspicion of infiltrating administration building’ 

And below, a ginger freckled boy, roughly your age with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, in handcuffs as two of his friends with blurred-out faces followed. 

“Hey, Tim…” you spoke, and his eyes followed to where the newspaper sat on your lap. He immediately groaned, 

“That damn resistance is another thing I’ve been wanting to ask you about…

You straightened up a little. Talking about the Resistance was taboo. It was like one of those unspoken topics that no one wanted to bring up first. One, because people went crazy about it. Two, because everyone already knew your stance. You were, always had been, and likely always would be, the hunted. The resistance was built from hatred for your ancestors. You literally couldn’t come back from that. 

I mean, sure, you had talked about it with Helen, but that was different. He had brought it up to you, in a totally inconspicuous and understandable way. Talking about it with Tim felt a lot more official. 

“You know they’re idiots, right? You don’t actually feel threatened by them?” he asked you, taking the paper from your hands. You always knew he had nothing to do with them. I mean, the majority of the Nation saw them as crazy conspirists who had nothing to gain, so wasted all their time trying to create problems that had long since been solved. 

Helen had been a total wild card in that aspect. Siding with the resistance was a lot more disrespected than acting against them. But still, knowing there was a group out there big enough to earn its own reputation, who functioned solely on the ground belief of wanting you dead, was terrifying. 

“Obviously I don’t feel threatened by them” you lied, 

“Cus, right now they’re after all of us… it’s not just you…” 

He spoke words that were supposed to comfort you with his usual distant tone, and you didn’t know how to take it. 

“They think we’re industry rats- they’re nothing but close-minded idiots-” he ripped the newspaper in two and tossed it into the bin, "Don't waste your time giving them a thought,"

But it didn’t reassure you. 

They had tried to attack the Admin building. 

Your safety was no longer guaranteed. 

They were growing. They were angry.

And you were their target. 

“Let’s talk about Jason,” Tim changed the subject, writing JASON in block letters on the whiteboard,

“I don’t trust him,” you said flatly, before widening your eyes and quickly looking around. 

Fuck. you were an IDIOT, Y/N. Did you learn NOTHING from Laughing Jack?

He immediately jumped in with a phrase you had never expected to leave his mouth, and it startled you, 

“There are no cameras in here,”

He knew about the cameras.

“You think I’m dumb enough to bring us somewhere they can hear?” he almost snarled, because how dare you undermine his intelligence for one second?

You held your hands up in defense, “How do YOU know about the cameras?”

“Candypop’s not as subtle as he looks, but honestly Brian noticed before I did… how do you know about them?”

“Laughing Jack wasn’t exactly subtle either…” you laughed sarcastically. 

Congratulations Y/N! You just won the biggest understatement of the year award!

“They make it out like it’s for our own safety, but… don’t they seem a little black-and-white to you? Like one second they’re your friends, the next they could kill you?”

You focused- really focused- on the wood of the table as a familiar memory played in your head for what seemed to be the hundredth time this week.

“You look at me when I’m talkin’ to you, you little brat…” he snarled, no fragment of niceties left in his system. All you could see in front of you was a clown from your nightmares: teeth bared, towering over you, claws sharp, and eyes narrowed.

And he had you trapped. 

“You think these rules are a game?” he growled, the grip on your hair growing tighter as you forced yourself to shake your head. 

He repeated the question. You felt your body lift off the floor. He was holding you by the roots of your hair, so much so that you could feel some of them snapping out of your scalp. The pain was searing. Tears brimmed in your eyes. 

You forced yourself to shake your head again.

“Answer me!” he barked. The pain was blinding. 

Suddenly, you could feel the pulsing scabs on your thighs again. 

“I know what you mean…” you nodded, forcing yourself to mentally come back into the room again. 

“But think about Jason- he was clearly trying to help us, right? I mean, by giving us pointers for the trials… but if what the other admin are saying is right, then he SHOULDN’T know about the trials, which means he’s hiding something-”

He scribbled down a ‘CAN’T BE TRUSTED’ next to the word Jason on the board. You thought about this. He could either be an ally or an enemy depending on where he had got his information from, but one thing was undeniable, and that was that he was helping you. 

“The Admin aren’t as close as they act either,” you nodded, “Remember the day after he told us, Jason was practically begging you to keep your mouth shut… and last week at the Halloween party, Candypop, and Laughing Jack knew something the others didn’t, they kept disappearing…”

He nodded in confirmation, before crossing his arms and leaning closer to you, making his voice quieter, “Look… do you really trust the Admin?”

The question lingered with a truth you had been pushing to the back of your mind and forcing quiet. You had always trusted the admin by nature, you had been taught it- it had been the only truth: trust the admin. If you knew nothing else, you knew this. It had been a constant. You never dared question it before. 

But here you were, and by the look in his eye, you already knew his answer. And by the lines of evidence that vouched against them- whether they were conspiring in a group or sending you to your downfall- it seemed like he wasn’t wrong to think it. 

He spoke again, clearly anxious at the way you weren’t saying anything, 

“Listen, Y/N, I know they portray themselves as all-loving and all-caring, I know they say they’d never hurt us, and I know you probably believe they wouldn’t-”

You snickered. 

“What?” he asked, and you relented. 

"You think I believe that shit?" you asked, and he urged you silently to continue, 

In hushed tones, you told him about Laughing Jack and the lashes, blinking away tears in the corner of your eyes as the embarrassment of the entire thing washed over you again. When you finished, you prepared yourself for the backlash: the ‘Why did you let him do this?’, the ‘You should have told someone earlier’, even the ‘Well you did break the rules’... But it never came. 

Instead, Tim was quiet. Pensive. As if a thousand thoughts were wrangling his mind, and he was challenging all of them into the white-hot grip he had on the marker in his right hand. 

And then he spoke, voice low but laced with a poisonous rage that made your posture straighten, 

“He hit you?”

There was a silence, full of seconds waiting for words you couldn’t form.

“Well…yeah-” you crossed your arms, feeling embarrassed about the whole thing. You had convinced yourself it wasn’t THAT big of a deal, but…

“Bastard…” he shook his head, “Fucking crazy bastard…”

“Tim, it’s fine, I-”

“I need a smoke,” he said pointedly, before slamming the library door and leaving you there, more confused than ever. 

Chapter Text

When Tim came back from smoking, he found you still in the library, pouring over one of the history books on the shelf, searching and scanning for answers to your questions on the Resistance.

Sure, you had bigger things at hand, but the idea of a group of them infiltrating the admin building? The idea that Helen had grown up among these people? The idea that you could be next on their hit list?

At least Zalgo was a common enemy. The Resistance seemed hungry for your stability only.

When Tim came back, he paid no attention to the book and continued speaking, like he was used to having people just shut up and listen to him.

Reluctantly, you found yourself shutting up and listening to him.

“So, let’s establish that the Admin care a lot about reputation,” he began, the smell of smoke lingering around the room, “I mean, look at how much focus they put on the interviews. They showed up in more glamour than we knew they were capable of, while we sat there like their puppets,"

You looked at the scribbled-down word ‘INTERVIEWS’ on the whiteboard, and you found your mind buzzing with things to say.

“I think the entire government is setting us up,” you waved your hands with an air of defensiveness, “Not saying anything bad about the admin, I’m just saying, we’re being put on show for entertainment- think of the economy, we’re boosting it by the million just based on the interviews alone… that’s without talking about the actual trials. They don’t care if we live or die as long as they’re making profit from the Nation’s gambling-” you shrugged, “And I’m not being biased, that’s a fact, we’re like horses in a race,”

“The context of those interviews is fucked-” he nodded, “It’s clear propaganda- all they want is money and power- look at Brian and me,” he gestured to himself, “We don’t know a damn thing about each other yet we’re being marketed friends for life just to play on their heartstrings and make them vote more- it’s bullshit… why else would they be pushing that narrative so hard, other than to get more money through voters’ sympathy?”

You joined him next to the whiteboard, grabbing a marker to write, “Oh, and did you notice how they censored out all of Clockwork and Jeff’s swearing? As if this isn’t literally a fight for our survival…”

You were muttering it, but Tim looked at you like you had just cracked some secret code.

“That’s it…” he mumbled, “That’s the entire point of it- they’re trying to undermine the weight of it… you know- hide it behind this big TV celebration…. They’re putting glamour and colors and fancy outfits over what it really is, which is literally a fucking survival game that has nothing to do with what we originally signed up for-”

“And Jeff’s entire interview- he’s on the same page as us, maybe a little more extreme-” he continued, “But he clearly hates the government and isn’t afraid to make that hatred known-"

“Makes you wonder why he signed up for this…” you muttered,

“Or if he signed up for it at all…” he mused, and you quickly prompted him to jot that idea down for the next time you talked.

The two of you were scribbling down words, sentences, phrases, anything that came to mind onto the whiteboard- his black pen and your red creating the perfect map and sequence of events thus far.

“Our question is why,” you stood back, admiring your work, “Why are they making us fight for survival in here? I mean, okay… let’s give them that benefit of the doubt-” you said, “Let’s pretend they’re weeding out the weakest and letting the Nation choose their own Operator inadvertently,” you said, “Why try and kill the rest? Why bring death into it? There has to be another reason…”

“Well clearly those interviews were rigged,” Tim said, and you immediately began to rant, trying not to let your anger from the night you watched them back fester into your discussion.

“You saw mine- they cut half of my shit out,” you said, “They literally edited it to sound like I worshipped the government- they added applause that wasn’t even there-” you huffed, “If they were fair, I’d have been disqualified and probably publicly executed for speaking out about lower class society, like, look at-”

You froze, almost giving away Helen’s place in the whole thing, and made a fast attempt to save yourself,

“Look at you and Brian-” you covered up with a clear of your throat, “they cut every one of Brian’s lines out, too,”

He nodded, writing down the brief points of what you had said, before crossing his arms,

“Thing is, everyone knew they were rigged, we all agreed on this already…” you continued, “I think we need to bring this up again to the house…”

He agreed, and both of you continued flicking through details and combing through every strand of evidence so that not one aspect of the interviews was left undiscussed.

“You know you’re being set up to win, which makes me wonder why they changed the law in the first place… why waste so much time?" Tim sighed,

“To give in to a proper vote-” You nodded,  "They say they want equality, and unless they changed the law, they'd be doin g the opposite of practicing what they preached-"

But he didn't seem all too convinced,

“Yeah, but to push it this extreme… to make these spectacles and stuff- it makes me think that they are planning something…”

This was it. Your time to finally air your theory.

“I have a theory…” you started,

“Sounds promising,” you detected sarcasm in his voice, but for once, you let it slide.

“Listen, just hear me out…” you began, “Don’t you think it’s weird that this entire war’s breaking out, but we aren’t being asked to help? Surely, since we’re the twelve most powerful people in the nation, it would make sense for US to fight against the Underworld, right?”

You saw the cogs turning in his head.

“What are you saying Y/N?”

“Now think about before the war broke out, before it was mentionned in any newspaper article or anything- we started to hear a lot more about Zalgo and the Underworld, almost as though they knew something that we didn’t… remember the warning at the ceremonial dinner, remember the Underground seminar and the constant reminders of him?”

“The admin knew he was going to attack us…” he muttered to you, pulling up a chair and sitting down to fully hear you out, “They were preparing us for…. For what..?”

“Okay, I know this is a lot, and I’m jumping to conclusions, and-”

“Hurry up”

You breathed in, before letting it out in one breath,

“I think we’re being trained to fight the underworld in the trials,”

You noticed whatever strength he had been clinging onto your words had been let go of. He was looking at you like you had just told him to go swing from the roof upside down. The silence had never been more telling.

“Yeah you’re right, that is a stretch, there’s no way that’s happening,” he quirked an eyebrow, “How would the Admin control the Underworld like that when they’re fighting against each other? It makes no sense,”

Tim Wright had this strange power, where he could say anything at all, and you’d immediately believe the opposite out of spite.

He liked to read newspapers. You thought that was cringe.

He smoked? You hated smoking.

He thought your theory was a stretch? You thought it was the best damn thing anyone’s ever come up with.

“No actually, it does” You furrowed your gaze, determined to make him listen,

“Y/N-”

“No, listen to me. Just listen to me explain it. You’re telling me Zalgo came out of nowhere, after YEARS of radio silence. All of these random attacks came out of NOWHERE. We’re being constantly trained, constantly prepared to take them on. Then all of a sudden, war breaks out, and we AREN’T called to help. The twelve most capable people in the nation aren’t being asked to fight the biggest threat- one which they’re prepared for. You think they REALLY wanna PROTECT us? You think THAT’S why we aren’t being asked to fight?”

He stayed quiet.

“TELL me how it doesn’t make sense!” you waved your hands, unclicking the pen and writing down buzzwords, brief explanations, equations, anything you could to make him understand.

Every sentence you thought burned in your mind like fire, and you rushed it down as quickly as you possibly could. Your hands were practically shaking with adrenaline. You probably looked crazy- you definitely felt it. But fuck it if he was scrutinizing you. It was a good idea and you were sick and tired of pretending it wasn’t.

He still hadn’t opened his stupid little judgemental mouth.

“What?!” you snapped, looking to find a ghost of a smile on his lips,

“Nothing… I just didn’t know you could actually be passionate about something-” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh fuck off-” you shot, anger rising in your veins at how he was taking this opportunity just to mock you.

“I’m not kidding,”

Silence filled the air. Suddenly, he was more serious than you had ever seen. He was admiring your skill, your mind. You felt accomplished.

“It’s a good theory,” you said, clearing your throat and fixing your disheveled hair, the marker in one hand and its lid in the other.

“It is a good theory, I knew it was,” he reached forward, using both of your hands to click the pen shut, “I just wanted you to prove it to me,”

You found it in you to scoff, before a voice rang out over the mansion, sounding somewhat blurred from the distance, but undeniably it was Ben,

“DINNNERRRRRRRRR!!!!!!” It called.

“Okay, quick run-down of what we know,” Tim looked at you, picking up his bag from the floor, “We know that on Halloween, Zalgo shot Korbyn- all of us had alibis, and the specific arrow used was native to the underworld,”

You nodded, “We know that the war is happening, and we know that resistance groups are angry,”

“We know that Jason is hiding something, the interviews were rigged, and we can’t trust everything the Admin say,” he continued, “And we know that we’re probably being trained to fight the Underworld through our trials,”

You gleamed with pride at the acceptance of your theory and nodded quickly.

“By the way…” Tim looked at you when you both were switching off the lights and blowing out the candles, “Just because we agree on this doesn’t mean we’re cool-”

“Fucking ditto-” you nodded, opening the library door and breathing in the fresh air for once, “Don’t talk to me down here, we aren’t friends,”

He shoved past you to get out first, and you made a point to walk the other way, both of you smiling with accomplishment in your chest.

Chapter Text

You liked dogs, you really did. 

I mean sure, you never had one, but you were pretty sure you had ‘Future Dog MILF’ written all over you. 

But right now, you had to admit, you were questioning these prospects because your thirteenth housemate was not like any dog you had ever seen in your life.

On Halloween night, when Korbyn had been murdered and the place had gone into an uproar, Jeff had managed to find a new best friend- a wolf-like animal found at the scene… and it was about to send the rest of you to an early grave. 

He hadn’t left the dog's side. At mealtimes, he would make a tiny plate of whatever he was eating to share it with the dog. At bedtime, he would heat up a blanket (one of your dad’s expensive ones) on the radiator and wrap it around the dog, ‘because it was cold outside’. 

Keep in mind this was the same guy who pushed Brian down the stairs the other day because ‘he was going too slow’, and also the same guy who was currently number 1 on the government’s hit list. 

You didn’t think it was possible for him to be this happy. 

It was the perfect match, though, because the dog was just as terrifying as he was. 

It was a Siberian husky, with bared teeth and a bark that shook the walls of the mansion. Seriously, you had no issue with animals- even spiders- but this dog? You were terrified to accidentally end up alone with it. One, because you didn't like the way its giant, sky-blue eyes stared at you, and two- because you wouldn’t put it past Jeff to suddenly tell it to attack you for kicks. 

He had already made it clear the dog came first, anyway. 

“He likes shoes,” he had said over a spoonful of cereal as the dog tore up one of Jane’s stilettos. 

“He’s cold,” he had defended, snatching a blanket out of Helen’s hands to wrap around it. 

“He doesn’t like loud noises,” he had chastised Ben, turning down the shooter game he had been playing on his Xbox. 

Had it been any other circumstance, you’d have banded together and voted to remove the dog from the mansion, but you were all just… too confused to do anything about it. I mean, this was JEFF. 

You never knew how to take Jeff on a good day. If he wasn’t ruining his own name, he was going out of his way to annoy anyone in his general vicinity and make their lives a living hell. 

But now he had this dog? He just felt like an overbearing, annoying parent. 

You were in the kitchen with Liu, and Clockwork, coincidentally talking shit about Jeff and the dog. 

“He named it, ya know-” Liu crossed his arms, and leaned against the countertop. If anyone wasn’t impressed, it was Liu, who had a general distaste for dogs over 20kg

“Oh for fucks sake, what’d he name it? Husky the killer?” Clockwork rolled her eyes, and you snorted with laughter. 

“Better-” Liu’s lips twitched upward, “He named it Smile,” 

And before any of you could stop yourself, you were in fits. It was the type of laughter that started off as giggles, and then transcended into silent screams, with you and Clockwork smacking each other and Liu sliding down onto the floor, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes,

“Shut up I mean it,” he wheezed out, trying to catch his breath, “If he hears any of us laughing he’ll send it to rip our ankles off-”

“Who the FUCK names a dog smile?!” Clockwork cackled, running a hand through her hair. You were lost in your own laughter. Smile. Smile the dog. It was so STUPID.

“Jeff the killer does-” Liu smirked, the three of you still howling. 

“It’s just so ironic-” you joked, “I don’t think I’ve seen Jeff smile once,”

And the three of you burst into more cackles until you were all red in the face and on the verge of throwing up. It was one of those moments where nothing was really THAT funny, but through the instances of murder and overload of terrible information you had been taking on these past few weeks, it was the only silver lining you had. 

////

Today was one of those rare days you actually had time to yourselves because the Admin were still ‘investigating the murder’ and ‘it was too unsafe for you to be out right now’. 

You had spent the day doing nothing at all. This morning, you helped Toby with breakfast. You had found that he tended to hyper fixate on specific foods, going through large periods of eating practically nothing but that. Right now, it was waffles. 

“It’s m-my ADHD,” he had explained, standing over the toaster, while you grabbed plates for the two of you, “Th-they’re life-changing, pl-us, you can’t be-eat a waffle m-maker-” he shrugged with a grin. 

So the two of you spent the morning decorating and making waffles- two for you, two for him, and two for Ben, who had been trying to brave the shower. 

He really was terrified of water. Apparently, considering he was part glitch, water in excessive amounts could seriously fuck him up. His organs weren’t as reliable as regular humans, and even though his fears of drowning had seemed irrational at the time, it actually made a lot of sense.

“W-hatcha want with yours?” Toby asked, tugging out toppings upon toppings from the cupboards- sugar, Nutella, butter, maple syrup, chocolate syrup, strawberry syrup- you name it, he was ready to put it on a waffle, “Ben wants b-acon, I want sugar,” he pointed to you, “You want…”

“Oh look at the options…” you mused, “Nutella always-” you said, because it was 2014 and Nutella was literally more critically acclaimed than religion. 

You helped him fry up the bacon for Ben and watched as he poured sugar onto his plate, followed by chocolate syrup… followed by M&M's.

“Toby, it’s nine in the morning-” you laughed, “are you okay?”

He looked up at you, standing in your pajamas. Your hair was in a messy bun, and you were standing next to him, helping him make breakfast. You were laughing that melodic laugh, and looking at him with those gleaming eyes. Asking him if he was okay was like asking if the pope was catholic. 

“N-never been better,” he said, and continued filling his plate. 

////////

“Yo,”

Great. Just what you needed.

“Yes, Jeff?”

You looked up from the kitchen table, where you were currently coloring in a mandala, torn from one of those adult coloring books to help with anxiety. You weren’t necessarily anxious right now, but Helen was working on a new personal art project, and he had asked you to color in a few of them to help with it. It was looking great.

Jeff was standing in front of you, converse muddy and hair dripping wet. Next to him, predictably, stood the dog, equally as drenched in rain and looking at you with a stupidly cute expression, 

“You know your roses don’t get wet, right?” he asked.

The roses that had bloomed in the forest just after Korbyn’s body was found had been made into an inside joke, where Zalgo had grown you roses as a housewarming gift for taking care of the mansion whilst your dad worked in the nation. 

You hadn’t expected Jeff to join in on it, but you were happy to know that it meant he didn't actively hate you. 

But wait… what?

“What do you mean?” you asked, setting down the pencils,

“Smile was over sniffin’ at them, they’re bone dry- the rain drips right off them-”

“That’s… weird…” you leaned back in the chair, and Smile took it as an invitation to come and sniff at YOU. You froze up so as to not offend either of them and prayed he wouldn’t take a chunk out of your skin.

He sniffed at your fingertips, before shoving his head into the crevice of your hand. All the adrenaline in your body spiked, but Jeff was looking down at him with a proud grin, like saying ‘Look at you socializing!’

You had no choice but to pet the dog with shaking hands, and found that his fur was sleek and soft, and he practically purred whenever you scratched behind his ears. Eventually, you settled, realizing that he wasn’t going to attack you after all. You suddenly felt bad about making fun of his name earlier. 

Jeff was a bit like a ticking time bomb when it came to asking questions and making assumptions. One moment, he was happy to have a conversation, the next he was at your throat. You saw the silhouette of his knife in his hoodie pocket and decided to play your cards safe. 

“He’s soft,” you said, 

“Andromeda bathed him last week, paws doin’ better too-” he gestured with his foot to the bandaged-up paw, which had a pink heart-shaped ‘get well soon’ sticker on it. You smiled, knowing that was definitely Andromeda’s touch. 

“Thanks for letting me know about the flowers-” you nodded as he trekked both he and Smile through the kitchen, and he nodded his head as though to say ‘don’t worry about it’.

You never would have thought he could be so… civil?

Maybe that dog was a saving grace after all. 

////

That night, everyone decided to spend some time together as housemates. 

Clockwork wanted to do karaoke. Nina wanted to have a movie night. You wanted to have another party.

However, against all of your wishes and deciding what to do, you ended up making a makeshift fort on the ground. Everyone, excluding Tim, who was still too up-his-own-ass to get involved with friends, and Jeff, who only had time for the dog, had grabbed all of their pillows and blankets from their rooms and cleared the floor.

Jane and Nina had grabbed bowls of popcorn, Clockwork had grabbed drinks, Toby and Ben had put themselves in charge of building the fort (which took four tries) and Brian had taken it upon himself to create ambiance, which included dimming all the lights and starting up your dad’s old record player with an ABBA vinyl. 

The idea of it was outrageously funny. Ten of the most powerful, capable people in the nation struggling to fit underneath the blanket fort they had built.

“Okay everybody shift to the right, not too much or it’ll fall-” Brian was directing. He had been a little quieter recently, especially considering the interviews had fucked him over, but tonight he seemed just fine. 

“Move o-over I can’t get in” Toby nudged Ben with his foot, laughing before climbing in. You were leaning against Jack, who had both of his arms around your waist. You were covered with blankets, the Admin could see nothing right now. 

When you were all comfy, Liu switched on the Christmas lights that had been used to decorate inside it. Everyone was suddenly illuminated in a beautiful glow.

“I feel like a kid again-” Nina laughed, “All we need now is some coloring pencils-”

“Funny you should say that-” Helen, who seemed to be gradually finding his voice more and more, said, reaching into his satchel and tugging out an array of coloring sheets- all intricately designed, “Y/N’s been helping me with my art project, but since you offered-”

“Oh Helen you shouldn’t have!” Ben joked, although the excitement in his eyes was clear. Everyone had broken out into gasps and excitement. 

Sometimes coloring with your friends was all you needed, age be damned. 

////

“So Ben, what's with the stars?” Liu asked, reaching over and trading his blue pencil for a green one. 

“Huh?” Ben asked, looking up, before realizing what he had meant. Ben had a strange, almost obsessive fascination with the stars. He could name any constellation in seconds, and spent every single night- in rain, in heat, in exhaustion or joy- watching them.

“I think the stars know more than we do-” he joked, but you could tell it had serious undertones, “They’re beautiful, and they’re always there- ya know? No matter what happens, or where you are or what you've been through- they’re always there at the end of the day- same with the moon-”

“I think it’s nice to have something constant,” he smiled, where he had been coloring with a gold pencil, “Not in a sad way, don’t you dare give me sympathy about it- but I never had friends growing up, ya know? I was always so busy with… things, that I just didn’t have a lot of time, so the stars were kinda all I had, sometimes I feel like they’re the only ones who get it, they’ve seen everything, and they still show up for you,”

You didn’t realize it, but you, as well as everyone else in the fort, had been holding onto his every word, and his speech continued,

“They’re also one of nature's things that people haven’t monetized yet,” he laughed, “We get to look at them for free, and I mean- even the constellations, Orion, Cassiopeia, Aries, all of the stories and legends that come from them… people thousands of years ago looked at them and gave them meaning, gave them life-” he nodded, “I don’t know how people aren’t obsessed with them-”

You smiled. Seriously, Ben surprised you every time he opened his mouth. For a guy who spoke in jokes and lightheartedness, he really did have such a profound mind. You thought he was smarter than all of you put together, simply for his blind poeticism. 

“M-my birthday’s April 28th- what does th-at make me?” Toby asked, leaning on his stomach and looking up at Ben,

“Taurus- same as me-” Ben flashed a grin, “It’s actually one of the oldest constellations-”

This caused a chain of events, where everyone suddenly wanted to know about their star sign, and you took turns going around in a circle whilst Ben told you facts and stories in a way that made him sound like a crazy fortune teller, predicting your future. 

Just like everything else Ben did, it ended with the group of you laughing. 

The clock had just turned midnight, and Ben grabbed a bundle of Christmas lights to hold under his chin, which made him glow and his red eyes shine in a beady sort of glimmer. 

“Anyone got any horror stories?” he grinned,

“Dude, we’re in the Operator trials, our entire life is a horror story-” Liu snorted, and you all burst out laughing, 

“We have the retreat with the admin next week-” Jane rolled her eyes, and a collective groan washed over the fort. You were suddenly hyperaware of the red telephone outside and nuzzled back into Jack out of spite that they couldn’t see you. 

You wanted to ask about the resistance outbreak but figured it might be disrespectful to Helen. It was a complicated situation. 

You wanted to ask a lot of things, actually. Like what they thought about the rigged interviews in hindsight, what their thoughts on the admin were, and if they really, really thought they were being protected by them.

But it was just past midnight on a weekend, and Toby was currently showing off his mandala, presenting it like it were the Mona Lisa. Jack’s head was on your shoulder, and Nina was on your other side, sharing a blanket with you. The mood was sweet, but unpromised. Mentioning any of that now would tear it to shreds, and you didn't want to risk it. Not when it had been the only sunlight in weeks' worth of rain. 

The uprising could wait. 

Chapter Text

You ever get bad vibes the second you wake up? Like, no matter what you do to try, you just can’t shake the looming feeling that something is going to happen? And it hangs over you like a gloomy impending disease and gives you an unshakeable feeling of dread?

Yeah, that was how this morning was going. 

You woke up at 8 am to the sounds of nothing but the patter of rain against your window. Usually, it would be something much louder: Ben and Toby laughing or shouting down in the kitchen, the girls talking outside your room, even Zalgo banging on your walls. 

Today it was nothing. Nothing physical, anyways. You knew deep inside you that it was something though- a feeling deep in your lower abdomen that made you wake up.

You were no clairvoyant, but you could tell some shit was about to happen. 

Coincidentally, today was day one of your residential with the Admin. 

It was nearing the end of November, and all of your brightly colored summer clothes had been replaced by comforting hoodies and fluffy sweaters. The air outside was chilled, and the wind was whistling tunes that sang to you each and every night through the windows. 

Your bags lay open and half empty, because you were literally the reigning queen of procrastination, especially when it came to doing things you really didn’t want to do. And spending a weekend with the Admin was currently on top of that list. 

Sure, the Admin promised to take care of you. But spending a weekend in a house where Laughing Jack could get his hands on you whenever he wanted?

The idea of it made you wince. Your scars were only just starting to clear up. 

Maybe this feeling of unease came from the fact you no longer trusted them. 

Not after you and Tim had torn them apart with evidence and stone-cold facts that they were nothing but game players, putting you up to show and selling you to the nation for their own gain. 

Ever since that night, you had noticed more and more things you didn’t like about them. 

Their tendency to act as though they were above you, for example.

They would give you schedules, tell you what to wear and how to act, praise you, and then strip you down with harsh critiques. For a moment, you had forgotten that you were the ones here with the power, not them. That you would be the ones ruling the Nation one day, not them. 

Like, okay, they were here to train you, but their entitlement was exhausting. 

They wanted their money, which was fair. You heard through the grapevine that the mentor of the winning candidate reaped 20% of the winning profit. It was also well-known that these five Admin would be losing their titles next year when five of you picked up the role. Only the best of the best would be in the Nation’s elite, and they no longer cut it. 

If you were in their position, you’d be grappling at strings too. 

But still, they didn’t have to be all authoritarian about it. 

When you went downstairs, it seemed like the feeling of internal dread was mutual. Either that or everyone was coincidentally just in one of those moods where too much conversation would wind up with someone lying on the floor with fresh cuts on their face. Likely because of Clockwork. Even Smile was nowhere to be found. 

The only person who greeted you with any sort of cheer was Ben, who seemed incapable of letting his emotions affect how he treated others. 

“Morning Y/N!” he chirped, immediately tugging himself off the sofa, where he was pressing some buttons on his old gameboy, and following you into the kitchen, chatting about the residential and how he wondered what it would be like.

Brian also stood in the kitchen, and offered the two of you a small smile, with brief contributions to the conversation,

“I only finished packing this morning,” he said, and before you could announce that you actually still weren't finished, Ben facepalmed with a groan,

“Damn, I knew I forgot to do something-”

“What?” Brian asked, “You forgot to pack something?”

Ben reached out, grabbing Brian’s shoulders dramatically and shaking him back and forth.

Brian, who could pack one of the hardest punches in the mansion, let himself be thrashed around by the shorter boy, 

“I forgot to pack EVERYTHING.” he groaned

“Ben,” you laughed, “We’re leaving in an hour,”

Ben threw his head back and covered his eyes, “This is a fate worse than death,” 

Brian offered him a small, but sympathetic pat on the back, and Ben seemed to take it like liquid courage, immediately shooting up straight again,

“I’ll make Toby help me,” he shot you both finger guns, backing out of the kitchen before saluting the two of you and dodging off, 

“Not sure whether I’m more impressed with his enthusiasm, or his belief that Toby’s gonna be any quicker at packing than he is,” Brian snorted, and you smiled up at him.

You liked Brian. He was definitely one of the easiest to get along with, and there had never been a time when he had questioned your judgments or made you feel small. Plus, he was always that person with the funniest expressions whenever someone said some weird shit. 

He also didn’t question you when you said you were heading into the forest, even though it was still raining outside, and you were leaving in an hour. 

You hadn’t been alone in the forest in two months. Ever since you went the morning after the ceremonial dinner, before life started to change, and after you had the honor of meeting Tim (sarcasm), you had decided that it was a place you needed a break from. 

But it was two months later. You weren’t lion-hearted yet, but you had been through nation interviews, parties with the elites, and endless empty threats from the demonic entity himself. If Zalgo wanted you, he would have to come and get you. Plus, knocking on walls was really getting old. 

The reason you were here though, was because you needed to prove what Jeff was saying about the flowers was true. Today was the first day since then that it had been raining. 

So there you were, padding through the slippery forest grounds, hood up and hands salvaging for heat in your pockets. You wondered if it really HAD to be this freezing the day you needed to be outside. 

Your determination steered you on, through weeds of nerves and shrubs of terror. Going into the forest had seemed like a great idea up until right now when you suddenly remembered that you saw a dead body not too long ago on these very grounds. 

You forced yourself to continue. Just keep going, Y/N, you told yourself, any minute now and… 

You saw the colors before you saw anything else. Bright scarletts, bursting crimson petals through thorny brambles lit up like neon in the night. It made you stop dead in your tracks. 

The sight was hypnotic. You hadn’t paid them much attention last time, since you were too focused on the crime scene around them, but now you had them alone, you couldn’t help but feel your jaw drop slightly.

These were the most beautiful flowers you had ever seen. 

There had to be at least sixty of them, each as immaculate as the last. 

And they were completely untouched, just as Jeff had said. 

The wind was blowing you in every direction, and rain was drenching the fabric of your clothes, but the flowers lay dormant, dry, and fresh, almost like they were straight from a painting. You reached out, before remembering what the Admin had said about them potentially containing poison. 

You hesitated.

And then you remembered who you were, and how annoyed you were that the Admin were trying to control every single aspect of your life. 

So you reached out and traced one of the petals, somehow knowing that they were harmless. It was the same type of intrinsic knowing that you had about the day ahead, like a fact that hadn’t yet revealed itself, but a fact all the same. 

The flowers were gentle, and smooth, like velvet on your fingertips. They were real, alright, and it made you question the dynamics of Zalgo’s powers. Sure, he was all-powerful and twice as evil, but these roses were crafted with such delicacy, such beauty that you couldn’t help but question his talent all the same. The fact that they were immune to the bad weather only proved they were from the Underground, considering no one else had the power to do such a thing.

You wondered if it were Zalgo leaving another message, mark, or warning for you and your housemates. If the roses were just another threat to keep in line and watch your back. 

Threats be damned, they were flawless. 

You took a little more time with them, before admitting defeat to your own procrastination and deciding to head back to finish packing. Plus, the weather was now bordering on diabolical. You needed into your house before you blew away. 

The second you turned away from the flowers, an ice-cold breeze hit your face, and you winced. 

You trudged through the forest, trying not to slip on the rain-soaked mud as the dismal overcast mocked you from above. You must have looked like an idiot, grasping branches and tree barks for support so you didn’t fall on your ass in the cold. 

Your method was going great, too! You didn’t even slip once.

And then you did. 

You felt yourself slide, and immediately clung onto the nearest tree, just as you had been doing. But instead of feeling the now familiar, scratchy bark beneath your hands, you felt something else.

A piece of paper- rainsoaked and crumpled up, but pinned onto the tree no less. 

And you, like the scatterbrain you were, forgot about the task at hand and grabbed onto it, not even caring that you lost your balance and landed on a damp rock. 

You were holding the paper in your hands, trying to make sense of the blurry words scratched onto the surface. The writing was in black marker, and it seemed rushed and barely legible. You squinted, trying to read.

And then it clicked. And you were suddenly grateful you were sat down. Your heart began to hammer, and the now-familiar feeling of being frightened in your own forest had come back tenfold. 

This wasn’t just a piece of paper. This was a letter, addressed to you. 

At first, you thought you were dreaming. Someone knew you were here. They had to. They had tracked you down. And they knew you were here. 

Panic set in.

It had to be from Zalgo. 

Rational thinking set in. 

Why the hell would Zalgo write you a letter?

Curiosity set in.

You began to read.

Dearest Y/N,

The writing was almost impossible to make out. Whoever wrote this must have been rushing big time. 

My darling, I had to write this quickly, as I am forbidden to communicate right now. It is your father. I am, as of right now, safe. I understand the implications and the dangers that come with contacting you, and for your own protection, I will only do so when necessary. I am sorry, my child, I wish I could tell you everything, but I am not fully convinced my messages are not being recorded. But until further notice, I am safe, and as long as this remains true, so will you be. I am always watching you, even though I have no eyes to do so. I love you,

                                                                                                                                                                                       Your Father

You scanned and retraced each step of the message to decipher it. Something was, first of all, extremely wrong. Your father was the damn Operator. He controlled this entire nation. If he wanted to come and see you, he could stop the world to do it. 

Now, he was communicating with you through scribbled notes placed strategically in the forest for you to find. 

You knew it was him. It was his handwriting, and it still lingered with the scent of his signature cologne. 

He was under someone else's control right now. Wherever he was in the Nation had taken his power. You knew it by the wording. You knew your dad. He would do anything to keep you safe, and by the undertones in his letter, it seemed like he was taking a risk just sending it.

He might be safe now, but you couldn't help but think this was temporary. 

You looked it over again, before noticing something you hadn’t yet seen. 

A small, almost not noticeable, circle in the corner of the page with an ‘x’ through it. You had no idea what it meant. You had never seen it before, but if you knew anything about your dad, you knew it wasn’t pointless.

And you knew something was wrong. 

///

“You think they know about this?” you asked Tim, the handwritten note flat on the desk in his bedroom. The two of you had packed, but the bus wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes. 

“You're seriously asking that? The same weekend we’re being taken to a secondary location where the Admin control everything, this shit happens? They definitely know about it,” 

Your heart sank further into your body. 

///

Ya know, for a residential home designed solely for the purpose of harnessing your skills for the trials, this sure was expensive. 

You were escorted there in a large limousine with blacked-out windows. Kagekao had joked and said it was for your luxury, considering you were now technically famous, but you knew it was because Korbyn wasn’t around to drive the coach anymore, and they didn't want any questions raised.

The residential itself was more like a manor. It had eight floors, each filled with lavish objects and decor that you had only seen in movies and magazines. It trumped your own mansion when it came to the latest technology and tools, and you wondered how the five of them afforded it. 

“We split rent-” Kagekao had said over his shoulder when Toby asked the same thing. 

The twelve of you had been graciously given a quick tour by the masked man, and you all marveled at the different rooms and questioned why some were completely closed off and out of bounds. 

“Why is this one forbidden?” Liu asked, when Kagekao basically drew a metaphorical red ‘X’ on one of the doors, and tapped his nose in response,

“Even us Admin have our secrets-” he hummed melodically, and you swapped gazes with Tim. 

If he really thought you wouldn’t find a way in there, he was pitiful. 

You played nonchalant, both to his comments and to Jack’s endless staring, and waited until you were allowed to leave and go to your shared room with Jane. You wondered why you had to share rooms in a manor this huge, but you loved Jane, so you weren’t really complaining. 

Also, Laughing Jack had just insisted on carrying your bags up to your room for you. If you had Jane there, it meant he couldn’t pull any of his weird moves on you. 

He had only managed one, and that was when he managed to get you alone on your way up.

“Breakfast at 9 am tomorrow kiddo,” he had crooned, reaching under your chin to scratch it. You hated how good it felt, his nails brushing against your skin at just the right tempo, and you hated even more how you wanted him to keep going when he pulled away. 

You ignored these feelings, filing them beneath the importance of worrying about your dad and whatever the hell the admin were up to. 

Jane was already in the room, wearing matching pajamas and lathering some moisturizer onto her delicate features. You flopped onto your bed and turned to face her, 

“Hey Jane?” you asked, eyelids feeling heavy. 

“Yes, Y/N?” she responded humorously, turning to look at you. 

“What’d you think about the Nation?”

Even if observation wasn’t one of your strong suits, you still would have noticed the faint blush on her cheeks and the way she stumbled over her words, almost smearing her moisturizer into her eye. 

“Why do you ask?!” her voice jumped a few octaves, and you knew it could only mean one thing and one thing only. 

Miss Jane had a crush. 

Your lips curved into a smirk as you remembered it in flashes. That girl from the interviews, with the long blonde hair and eyes wide as daisies, looking up at her like she was the sunshine.

It was finally time for you to be a girl for once. Worrying about your dad would do virtually nothing right now but stop you from getting a good night's rest. 

“What’s her name?” you rolled onto your stomach, practically kicking your legs with the excitement of it all. A crush! She had a crush! You remembered how it felt coming back to the three of them in your bed after your date with Jack. Crushes were so fun when you got to gossip to your friends about them. 

“Noooo idea what you are talking about,” she faked a yawn, “God, I’m exhausted,”

You only smirked wider. Seeing Jane so… faltered was absolutely unheard of. This girl had her by the throat. 

“Oh come ON Jane,” 

“Nope,” she climbed into her bed. 

“Fine, I’m good at guessing,” you shrugged, and noticed her pursed lips biting back a smile, “Was it Elizabeth?”

“Nope,”

“Janice?”

“Nope,”

“Charlotte?” You could go all night.

“Y/N,” she playfully warned, 

“April?”

She didn't answer, but your determination reigned longer, listing off every name in the dictionary until she finally gave in, 

“Mary! Her name is Mary!” she resigned, exasperation all over her.

“And you’re in love with her?” you casually asked. 

Her pillow came into contact with your face, and you burst out laughing, tossing it back,

“You guys looked cute together,” you grinned, “What was she like?”

“She’s… nice, yeah… she was lovely…” Her cheeks burned scarlet, but you knew she was all over it.

You thought about your own love life for a second. You and Jack were complicated right now. Sure, you liked him, but circumstances demanded maturity, and Jack didn’t want to know. 

Hearing about your FRIENDS crushes, however? That was a whole different story. 

“Tell me all about her-” you grinned, leaning on your forearms and listening as she rhymed off the entire thing like a bedtime story, lulling you to sleep. 

Chapter Text

“Y/N… one day, when you rule this Nation, crowds will bow at your feet...just to hear your voice…!”

“You will become the greatest leader we will ever know, and my pride for you will never run out…”

“My child, there will never be another like you…” 

“The future… you are the future…!”

You shot out of bed with a start, alarm bells sounding in your mind and heart pounding in your chest. For once, it had nothing to do with the Underground. 

All night, you had dreamt of your dad in fragments and bursts of memories from when you were younger, all of them centering around one thing and one thing only: The Operator. 

And although you had managed to deter your thoughts to something else last night, the truth had shot you like a bullet through the temple. You could no longer avoid it.  

He was in trouble. 

Maybe not right now this second. Maybe not soon. But he was compromised, and he was powerless. 

You felt as though a timer had just begun. You felt as though the feeling of dread last night had become a feeling of total despair, simply by the innate swarm of his memory in your sleep and the morning realization that he was not there to tell you it was alright. 

You felt powerless, to put it simply. 

When you were a kid, you were frightened at the idea of training with weapons. You didn’t want your instructor accidentally hurting you. So you told your dad, and he watched over the entire first session and made sure you didn’t get so much as a scratch. 

When you were a kid and you woke up with a sniffly nose and a scratchy throat, you told your dad, and he spent the entire day nursing you to strength with forest plants and medicines. 

When you were a kid and you had nightmares of shadows and bleeding skies, you had told your dad, and he had held you to his chest and hummed to you until you fell into a soothing sleep. 

Now you were here, and you had a terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach, and he could do nothing about it. 

You sat there with your worry and indecision, and every road you mapped out in your mind led back to one conclusion: You weren’t a kid anymore, and now it was time for you to do something for your dad. 

You thought about the dream again, and how he had raised you based on beliefs that you would become the future leader, as though there was virtually no other truth to accept. 

You resented him for this growing up. For putting that type of pressure on you when you never wanted it in the first place. For not doing so much as to ask for your opinion on the whole thing. You thought there was something so painstakingly patronizing about him stating these things without considering your feelings, without allowing you room to deviate from the path laid out for you. 

You thought about the lifelong battle in your mind- whether to suck it up and do what he wanted, or follow your own dreams instead. 

And your entire life had sailed on your own pride and independence, but now… it was complicated.

Now, the more that you thought about it, your pride and independence were becoming friends with your morals and responsibility. And what you wanted to do was slowly merging with what you were raised to believe you should do. 

Things would only go downhill from here. The resistance attacks, the sudden Underground uprising, the instability of safety on your dad’s behalf. The greed of the elite, the anger of the shadowed, and the vengeance of the damned were taking over the minds of the mindless, and you were the food that they feasted on. 

The only way you could fix this was to do what you had always rejected. 

If you became the Operator, you could change those laws that the resistance had rebelled for. You could end the war between above and below once and for all. You could guarantee safety for your dad, just as he had done for you. 

Sure, you could still lose and let one of the others take the crown like you had been planning to, but that wouldn’t satisfy you anymore. 

You were accustomed to this life now- this life of knowledge and hope and people. 

If you lost now, your dad would never know peace again. You knew it by the way the Nation worked. They were waiting for this moment. Waiting for him to lose that untouchable force of nature that surrounded him, so they could feed on him like a pack of rabid wolves. 

The Nation could exploit you all they wanted- tugging at your strings and making you dance for the crowds, but the second they looked at him with so much as an air of distaste, things were different. 

They would never let him blend into society. Operator or not, your lives would never be the same. Either you won, and both sides accepted fair game, and the Nation could genuinely shift their attitudes, or you lost, and their shrill laughs would turn to screams, and their pats on the back would turn to claw-marks. 

You knew they were ass-kissing your dad. You knew it by the way he had been taken into the Nation and treated like an equal. 

Your dad had never been treated like an equal in his life. 

They had spent decades bowing to him and chanting his name. Now, they were politely treating him like a refuge in their country, because he was on the verge of losing his title. You could tell their loyalties only ran so far. Like it or not, they hated that god-like authority that rendered him untouchable. 

If someone else won the title, both you and him would be left to rot, and all of their worship would turn to the new Operator. 

The system was fucked, and you knew it. Having an Operator in the first place was the first step to an internally split society. The world would never heal if you kept forcing the same ineffective medicines on its wounds. 

The only way to take down the system, just as you always wanted, was to do it yourself. You had to hijack it, know it inside and out, and then demolish it. Throwing bombs and shooting bullets at figures of power was useless when they were three times as strong and protected by their people.

You wouldn’t have to do it if you were the figure in question.

If you were the figure in question, you could take it down on your own terms, with the promise of protection on your side. 

You were unsatisfied right now, but you knew exactly what you had to do. 

You had to continue this dynasty.

A small meow caught you off guard. 

On the windowsill next to your bed sat a small, midnight-black cat with a red tummy and ears ever-so-slightly bent. It watched you with a tilt of its head. 

You recognized it. 

“Dad! Quickly look! There’s a cat!”

You were eight years old, sitting on the countertop and watching your dad finish drying the dishes. You had both been talking about the current most important topic in your entire life: ladybugs- when you saw a flash of something small and black take shape in the pouring rain outside. 

Naturally, he span to attention the second you pointed it out, and sure enough, perched in the lashing rain, was a small cat with a black and red stomach, cowering beneath the ledge of the mansion. 

“We gotta help it!” you had urged, scrambling off the counter (only to be caught by your dad). 

“Helping animals is very important, Y/N,” he had commended, “I am so proud of you for telling me,”

And so you had brought it in and dried it, giving it some milk and food and nursing it back to health.

It had disappeared the next morning without a trace. 

But now, blinking at you on the windowsill was that very same cat. Red stomach, black fur, eyes that looked like they knew more than you did. 

You squinted at it, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for it. There was no doubt about it- the way it was looking at you, the way it was perched, you knew in your heart that it was the same one. 

It tilted its head.

You tilted yours.

It was a strange, hallucinogenic sight. It almost looked as though it were grinning at you. 

You rubbed your eyes. 

It hopped off the windowsill, and you climbed out of bed. 

////

This morning's training was exciting because you had something to fight for. 

Sure, having Tim as motivation to beat always made the classes a little more fun, but it was nothing compared to how you felt right now. 

You spent 9-12 am in private lessons with each of the admin (with the exception of Laughing Jack, who moved your session to later that night. You didn’t wanna think about why.)

During your class with Andromeda,  you had to bear witness to Smile, who watched and scrutinized your every move. Apparently, he had taken a liking to her ever since she had healed him the night that you found him, and he insisted on following her around whenever Jeff wasn’t there. 

You wondered what he thought about that. 

Jason’s class had been as weird as expected. If he wasn’t scribbling notes down in a book, he was answering your questions in short, clipped sentences that left no room for conversation. 

Candypop’s had been as intense as ever. He was recording your every move on a clipboard, commenting non-stop on everything you did. By the end of it, you were out of breath but had more motivation than ever to better yourself. 

You stretched your arms above your head, and prepared to head into the final class of the day, when Candypop whistled you back, 

“Y/N,” he called, “You have a meeting right now,”

“No I don’t?” you span around to face him, confusion all over your face.

“Yeah, you do-”

“With who?”

“With me, now get moving-” he ordered in a casual tone, and you had no choice but to follow him down to one of the offices marked out of bounds by Kagekao last night. 

Your heart began to race again. 

Anything could be in here. 

Information about your dad? The nation? The resistance? 

Did they attack during the night? Did they have him right now? Did they know where he was? 

You hitched your breath. Anything could be behind this door. You were expecting a serious dose of information. You were expecting to be sent into the Nation immediately to help. You were expecting the worst. 

You were not expecting Liu Woods, sitting on a sofa with a lollipop in between his teeth. 

“Hey Y/N,” he grinned, leaning back as if this entire interaction was as casual as a catch-up over breakfast. 

You quirked an eyebrow, 

“Hey Liu…” you tried to match his tone but it didn’t carry. To make matters even more confusing, Candypop had taken a seat behind the desk and was sizing the two of you up like deciding who was about to win a job offer at a multimillion-dollar company. 

You and your big mouth broke the silence, 

“Why are we here?” you asked

“And where’s everyone else?” Liu added, resting back against the sofa. 

Candypop only sighed, straightening up before speaking again. His voice was business-like, and by the first sentence, you knew you weren't about to like it, 

“Listen, we have a proposal….”

You fell back against the sofa next to Liu and shut your eyes. A proposal. Great. 

You were about to hit him with the ‘I literally couldn’t be less interested if I tried’ line, but he beat you to it, with something that made you practically shoot forward in the chair like you had been tugged by the hair. 

“Your parents are in danger,” he said with a final tone. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you heard Liu’s breath hitch. 

This was both exactly what you needed to hear and the worst-case scenario, bound into one. 

“I need you both to trust us,” he began, and you wanted to say that at this point, you were literally verging on trusting Zalgo more, but you let him speak,

“We can’t give you any information unless you sign an NDA,” he nodded, placing two sheets of paper in front of you both. 

You swapped gazes with Liu, his sharp green eyes meeting yours, a silent conversation ringing through your head. Liu was not your best friend here. He was someone who made you laugh, and who you enjoyed talking to, sure, but when it came to telepathically reading his mind, you came in nil. The most you knew about the guy was that he was charismatic and friendly. Not exactly what you need in a situation like this. 

But there was something to be said about the way he was tapping the end of the pen against the mahogany table, and scanning your face for the same answers that you searched for in his. 

You knew his parents came first, just like your dad did to you. You would take down the entire Nation single-handed if you had to. Your own issues and social stance were nothing when it came to him. 

You looked at the NDA. Signing one of these meant something was wrong, and something required silence. You didn’t like having your mouth sewn shut for people in a higher power than you. You didn’t like being controlled like that. 

For a split second, you wished that it was Tim sitting next to you. 

You were in two minds, and you could tell Liu was as well. 

“Is the danger serious? Could the outcome be fatal?” You spoke up, and Candypop gave a half-hearted shrug, 

“Potentially,” he drawled out, and you had signed your name on the line before he even finished speaking, 

“What do we need to do?” You asked. 

//

“The Nation’s sweethearts, huh…?” Liu mused, flicking through the files the two of you had been given. 

You were both still in Candypop’s office, whilst Candypop had left, allowing you to have some alone time to process the next few hours, and you would have thanked him for the courtesy if he hadn’t put you in this mess to begin with.

The resistance was growing. This, you had already knew. To what extent, you did not. 

They had transformed almost overnight, going from a small, underground band of thieves to a team of professionals, all seeking to earn a voice in decision-making. Apparently, the change in law, as well as the clear profiting being made from you and the other candidates was proof enough that the Nation’s ‘ever-so-permanent traditions’ COULD be changed. 

If the Operator was now a competition prize, then surely they could stop suffering for the crimes they did not commit. 

However, when they brought this to the elites, they were shut down with a ‘This is how our country has always been run’, and basically told to deal with it.

It wasn’t fair. Even you could see that. So they were uprising. I mean, it wasn’t their fault their leader was exiled centuries ago and His people were punished for eternity. You would have rioted too.

However, in doing this, they had chosen your dad as their figure of hatred. 

He was the current Operator, and as far as they were concerned, the reason for their anger in the first place. Just like his ancestors, he had let the descendants of the resistance be neglected and cast off by the society he had thrived in. 

Sure, he was a figure of power to the majority of the Nation, including most of the ex-resistance members. He had stopped the wars and called for peace. But he hadn’t actually done much to ensure fair conditions around the Nation. He hadn’t exactly prioritized those who needed it most. 

Between September and now, anger had risen and castles had crumbled. In September, the resistance was nothing but a whisper of the past. Now, it was a fully-fledged political group. 

And they hated your dad. 

On the other hand, at a shocking turn of events, Jeff had become the resistance’s figure of hope. 

His outward rejection of the Nation’s ideals live on TV had sparked a fire for a fight in the eyes of the dormant resistance members. They had believed he was the first stepping stone to their future, despite being one of the candidates themselves. 

However, this didn’t extend to the extremist members of the resistance. In fact, they had despised him most. A rich kid who claimed to understand their pain? They wanted him dead. They wanted to burn him and any fragment of an ignorant revolution with him. 

But these very members had been out of commission due to their recent attempted attacks on the admin building not too long ago. 

And those who held Jeff in these kind regards had (in Candypop’s words), put a lot of pressure on his parents to 'join the resistance' and ‘were tormenting the two of them to free Jeff from the competition’. 

So whilst Liu had won the hearts of the Nation, with their posters and their screams, Jeff had won the hearts of the resistance. 

“You both need to address the Nation and the resistance,” Candypop had said, and you bit back words about how he talked about the resistance as though they weren’t part of the Nation at all, “They need to hear if from their future Op- the candidates…”

He cleared his throat, “The candidates… they need to know that you won’t tolerate it and that you are a united front that is stronger than theirs,”

“Why me?” Liu had asked, and you could feel a certain emotion that only his brother elicited from him arise, “Why not get Jeff to do it? That way, you’ll have Y/N, for the nation, and Jeff, for the resistance, and we can come to an agreement-”

This was apparently the wrong answer

“You don’t understand!” Candypop had snapped coldly, “You don’t understand who we are at all, do you?! We don’t want PEACE, you fool, we want to WIN, we need those mindless idiots out of the Nation- they're trying to hurt your PARENTS... we need to completely ERADICATE their voices, not boost them, you hear me?!” 

You were both taken aback by his seething words. Apparently, Liu was with you on the whole peace thing. Apparently, no one else was. 

Candypop only continued, 

“The two of you are the Nation’s choice- you are to represent us tonight in a speech that will be broadcast live, just as the interviews had been…. You have three hours to prepare, good luck,” He had stood, before turning to you at the door, 

“And don’t you dare let us down,”

///

So here you sat, replaying and dissecting every single one of Candypop’s words, laced with the bittersweet agony that you were the Nation’s choice, but knowing that that meant your housemates were not.

You knew deep down that tonight would only ignite the Nation’s love for you both more. If you were defending their honor, they would be sure to cast their bets on you. You couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the whole thing. 

Part of you wanted to call it off because it wasn’t fair game. 

But your dad was in trouble. And future Operator or not, you would be there to get him out of it. 

“We should start packing…” Liu hummed, giving your leg a soft squeeze before standing up and waiting for you to follow, “There’s no point in getting angry over it right now, not when our parents are in danger…”

You really felt for him, because he was sent out there to mop up his brother's mess whilst Jeff lay ignorant to it all. Obviously, it would reap him benefits, but still. 

You were grateful to him above anything because he grounded you. Something about the way Liu just accepted everything on the chin and wore it with style made him your fragment of hope tonight. It was as though his specialty was finding the good in all of the bad. 

“Least we get to miss out on training,” he offered, “Maybe they’ll even let us into another party-”

You could tell he was trying, so you shared the weight of it,

“Might even get some more of that fancy wine they had in the hotels-” you joked, rising to your feet. An early curfew had been called tonight for the other candidates, disguised as mandatory rest. 

They had no idea that the admin were getting ready to take the two of you into the Nation tonight. 

There were no TV’s in the place. No way of them knowing anything. You briefly thought about Tim and the newspapers he always studied waiting for him when you got back to the mansion, and how inevitably, by happenstance or by your own volition, he would find out. 

You wondered what they would think of you two, signing an NDA for the sake of your own greater good. 

You looked at Liu, leaning on the doorframe. 

“Ladies first,” he gestured. 

And you walked through the door. 

Chapter Text

“Are you a good liar, Y/N?”

It was 7 pm, and you had an hour and a half to go before presenting to the Nation. The speech, which you had yet to read, was still being printed, and was supposed to be on your desk in the next five minutes. Judging by the chaos around you, however, you didn’t see that happening. 

Had it not been for Andromeda, carefully twirling your hair around her curling iron and making you laugh with stories about her encounter with Trenderman, who had designed your outfit for the night, you probably would have gone insane. 

In another life, where she wasn’t part of the group you were slowly beginning to hate, the two of you would have been really good friends.

You already had your makeup done- a silvery, shimmery look that brought out your already beautiful eyes, and the dress you were wearing was hanging up on a clothes rail next to you. You were wearing Andromeda's Victoria's Secret dressing robe and a pair of woolly socks that were your saviors against the cold. 

You felt like a 90s supermodel, getting ready to walk the runway. Pity your head was filled with guilt.

“You think I’m an asshole for agreeing to do this just to save my dad?” you asked her, sipping on a can of diet coke. 

She thought for a moment, before shaking her head with a confidence that managed to ease your nerves, even if just a little. 

“I mean, it’s not like they’re your best friends,” she started, and you internally winced a little because they actually kinda were, “But I get how you feel- if it were my mom, I’d do the same… sometimes being selfish about it is the right thing, don’t overthink it,” she hummed, pushing some pins into your head to keep your hair right, “Plus, it’ll be worth it when you become the Operator-”

You thought about this,

“When I’m the Operator, I’ll hire you to do my hair and makeup for life,” you grinned, and you actually meant it. This was the first time you had talked about your future in this light and actually meant it. WHEN you were the Operator… because with the way things were looking, right now, it seemed inevitable. 

By the time she was zipping your dress up and you had convinced yourself that you weren’t abhorrent and evil for lying to your housemates, you decided to be a nosy little bitch. Maybe it was the adrenaline. You knew there were hundreds of thousands of people out there, all about to hang onto every word you said. Energy was swarming you like a rattled house of bees. You needed it out.

“So what’s the deal with you and Jeff?” you asked innocently.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to discover something was going on there. Not when they started months ago, ignoring each other save for snarky remarks, and now they were co-parenting a dog together. You’d die to be a fly on the wall when they were talking. 

Andromeda was usually a calm and collected girl, filled with nothing but sarcasm and an infinite supply of eye-rolls, so her reaction caught even you off guard. 

She shot to her feet, dropping the hem of your dress and almost stumbling into the chair behind her, eyes wide and cheeks pinker than the blush she had dusted across yours 

This was GOLD. 

“Huh?!” she asked, her voice at least three octaves higher than the casual tone she always carried. 

Oh, they were totally fucking. 

“Oh, I was just curious… has he warmed up to you yet?” you continued, acting as though you definitely, totally were not at all prying. 

She cleared her throat, gathering herself, and embarrassment and realization piled onto her features. 

“Oh…” she got out, and you pursed your lips to avoid laughing, “Yeah, he’s… coming along…”

“And how come the two of you are co-parenting Smile?” you pressed, a teasing glint in your eye. 

“Well… I wouldn’t exactly say we were co-parenting….” she spoke like the sentence was physically hard for her to say. 

“Ohhh, okay yah sure totally-” you nodded, smirking, “Unrelated, but are you hot? Your cheeks are really red-”

You were making it really clear to her that you knew without telling her that you knew, and she caught on immediately. 

She smacked you over the head before huffing and fixing your hair in the spot she had tussled up, just in time for a panel on the ceiling to slide open and or Kagekao to practically tumble through it, landing on his feet like a cat with a flash in his hand. 

If you thought he was going to explain that move, you clearly didn’t know Kagekao very well. 

And that’s when he asked you if you were a good liar. 

///

The Admin, as we have established, were untrustworthy, and kind of a group of assholes. They also had a terrible habit of telling you things minutes before you had to sell them. 

Example 1 - Tim and Brian were told they were a pair right before the interviews took place.

Example 2- You and Liu being marketed as a couple. 

This was a statement that hit you like a sucker punch, despite being delivered by quite literally the last person you could ever have a serious discussion with: Kagekao. 

“Chillax Y/N,” he drawled, “Have a drink-”

You slammed the door of your dressing room before he could say anything else, only to find Andromeda waiting on you outside of it,

“I only just found out, Y/N,” she held her hands up in defense, “I had no idea either… I wish they would have told me so I could have at least matched your outfits-”

You were about to snap at her but opted to sit in the lounge alone instead. Anything you said to them right now could warrant in more punishment, and that fact alone made the anger fester inside you like a plague. 

You were at a point now with the Admin where you figured that there wasn’t very much to do about their discrepancies other than suck it up and not let it take you down. Anything that fell short of that would only land you in more trouble. 

God, you hated authority.

If you were any wiser, you’d have thought they were doing this on purpose.

The door opened again, and Candypop walked in. You only glared at him, letting him know you were NOT feeling very cooperative right now. 

“Y/N, listen to me- it was a last-minute protocol,” he lied. You knew it was bullshit by the way he spoke to you like you were a child, “People love LOVE, if they think the Operator’s daughter is getting married, they’ll respect him- and treat him the way you, and all of us, want him to be treated-”

“Married?!” you exclaimed, and he huffed slightly, 

“Are you on our side or not?!” he asked you, crossing his arms, and you felt a malevolent energy enter the room, beckoned only by the furrow in his brow. Part of you wanted to reject it. Part of you was still afraid of what they’d do if you did. 

Part of you also knew they were telling the truth. What if they were doing all they could to help your dad? What if this was the last protocol? What if you were a selfish brat after all?

“Liu has no issue with it,” he shrugged, handing you your speech, and you were still too shocked to look at any of it. 

Of course Liu- calm, noble, Liu- had no issue with it. Of course, he was ready to play the perfect boyfriend to the Nation. Of course, he’d be a natural. 

He came into the room moments later, fixing the cuff links on his pale grey suit, and your mouth fell open simply by how… expensive he looked. Soft, grey silks on top of a pristine white shirt made Gucci models look broke. To top it all off, he was wearing a pair of sunglasses and had an army of rings tight around his fingers. 

He moved with the posture and charisma of a modern-day Elvis, and by the looks of it, he had already adopted his role for the night

“You ready?” he asked you, holding out his hand. 

Despite knowing your status in the Nation and the power you held, you couldn’t help but let him lead you down the now-empty hallway and toward the balcony, where you would be addressing the nation. He was born for this- to walk into a crowd and marvel at how they worshipped him. 

“Let’s party-” he flashed you a quick grin, lacing his fingers tight to yours, as the two brass doors opened for you, and a sea of people cheered and screamed your names from below. 

////

“And that is why we cannot have the resistance taking us down,” You read off.

This was bullshit. All of it. Rubbish. 

You were reading the speech for the first time, while you were presenting it, and not even a sneeze or a cough from the thousands below you interrupted. You could only hear the small flicks of TV cameras, which only reminded you that even more people were watching back home. 

You must have paused because Liu squeezed your hand and brought you back down,

“We can’t repeat the mistakes of the past,” he read out, finishing your line for you, and the Nation broke into applause and screams for you, for the eight millionth time that night. Of course they did. This was propaganda. 

You thought about how bitter the resistance would be right now, sitting in their homes with no invitation and all of their malice. You wondered how this was benefitting anyone. As it read, you were asking the Nation to very politely love you even more than they already did, and telling the resistance to back the fuck off. 

Now they were going to hate you even more for preaching the things you didn’t believe. 

Liu spoke, 

“And I am deeply ashamed of…”

Silence.

You looked on, reading his scripted line. His eyes widened. 

I am deeply ashamed of my brother, Jeff

He did not speak, and mumbling broke out among the crowd. You heard Candypop loudly clear his throat from the side. You thought about your dad, and how the Nation had him by the throat. You thought about how Liu was in the same boat as you. 

If you endorsed the resistance, the Nation would drop your dad. If you endorsed the Nation, the resistance would target him with their fury for you. 

“We just wanna say we don’t endorse war,” You answered for Liu, squeezing his hand. He squeezed your back in gratitude, and it was then that you realized that actually, you were a good liar. 

“Throughout this competition- we have fallen in love, and it’s such a shame for it to be destroyed by two age-old sides fighting with one another… when we want you all to celebrate with us,”

You thought this was a shot in the dark. Your nerves and spiraling thoughts were clouding logical thinking, and you wouldn’t have been surprised if the Nation themselves started throwing tomatoes up at you and calling you slurs. 

But the Nation were clearly so far out of touch with reality, that this could not have been any more further from the case. 

Any normal group of political parties would think ‘What the fuck is she talking about? How is a stupid romance more important than WAR?!’

But no, not the Nation. The Nation wanted entertainment, they fed on drama. The very fact they were merchandising and counting down the days until they could watch you nightly on their TV screens, potentially starving to death, was proof of it. 

Of course, they were going to care about this more than the war. 

The chorus of ‘AWWW’s was so loud even you stepped back a little, in surprise at what you had elicited. 

Liu took this time to make his own voice heard,

“And, well,” he nodded, playing the role so well, “When we get married…”

The crowd went crazy again, and even you had to fight to pretend you weren’t shocked.

“I want this to be a place for our children to grow up, a world where they’re safe,”

You cast a split-second look of shock at him. How was he improvising this so well? He squeezed your hand in response. 

“I want to devote this next message to The current Operator, Slenderman,” he continued, voice as confident as ever, and you swore he had to have had this planned. 

The crowd went silent. Your dad was not present, but you knew he was watching. It was mandatory everywhere. He was likely viewing it from a screen inside Proxy Academy or another well-renowned, high-security area. 

You could hear a hairpin drop as Liu stepped forward into the microphone, hand not leaving yours, and in that second, you could feel your entire world shift. 

“May I have your blessing?” he asked, and that was that.

Any fragment of political speeches or war talks was completely gone- disbanded and discarded in favor of what the Nation valued most: entertainment. 

The crowd had exploded. Screams, cheers, and sobbing from his countless fangirls (“He’s the only man to ever exist!”, “They’re LITERALLY goals!”), applause and everything in between ricocheted off the sky and the grass and rained down over you like a firework show. 

You were certain this same reaction was not garnered from the resistance members and supporters back at their homes, but you hoped it would be enough at least to make them put their weapons down, at least for a little while longer. 

A few seconds passed in the chaos. A messenger disappeared to receive and relay your dad’s response and then came back. You noticed how Splendorman shoved a microphone in his face, and he exclaimed with glee, 

“HE SAID YES!!!!”

And before you could even process the superficiality of the whole thing, a pair of lips were on yours. 

Liu’s hand was on the small of your back, and you could feel his freezing cold, metal rings softly press into it. The crowd was acting like the messiah had risen, and you bit down gently on his lip to avoid laughing. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and shut your eyes, basking in a moment of it all as your fingers traced the scars on the side of his face.

You were a good liar. 

Chapter Text

You were, after all this time of nightmares and theorizing and desperately worrying, in your dad’s arms. You were fine.

But he wasn’t.

He knew how to fool the Nation, sure. It was your dad after all- he had all the composure of a saint. He could be going through total armageddon and still find time to hush you to sleep and tell you you’d be alright without so much as hinting for an ounce of reassurance himself.

But you could tell. By the way his posture had slacked and his face appeared thinner than usual. By the way faded bruises were poorly covered up on his paper-white skin.

“What happened?” you asked, in a completely ‘no-bullshit-' type of voice you had learned only from him. You could speak as freely as possible.  If there were cameras here, your dad would know about them.

“I should be asking you the same!” he tried to jest, but his voice was hoarse and his mannerisms were jittery, “My little girl growing up AND falling in love?”

You weren’t usually harsh with your dad, but your worry had been eating you alive these past few nights. You weren’t only sleep deprived, you were also confused and filled to the brim with a self-loathing that only came with knowing your fellow candidates were at home blind to the advantage you had given yourself. Patience was not of your essence right now.

“You know it’s fake, Dad,” you said to him, and you found a gap in the silence that ached for you to fill with all of the things you were desperate to tell him. That you were trying. That it was because of him. That you just wanted to win this thing and go back home and forget about it all.

But you couldn’t.

“What happened to you?” you repeated, and you watched as he scanned the room.

“I don’t want to waste time in panicking yo-”

“Dad.”

He sighed, fixing his sleek red tie and running a hand over his head,
“The Nation’s Elites are not as benevolent as I believed…. Without my title to protect me, it seems they are eager to tear me to smithereens… it is you, my child, who is keeping me safe right now… with you in the running,  they cannot take me out, for their future leader would likely have them executed,” he nodded, "Yet that did not stop them from trying…”

You froze in shock. Your worst fear had just come true, and he was speaking it to you. The Elites were not to be trusted… they wanted to take your dad down…  they had hurt him.

You only wondered why.

Why would they want to take him down when he has been nothing but fair to them? When he has done nothing but reform the old laws and put fairness and equity in place as much as he could. When…

And then it hit you.

Of course, they wanted to take him down.

These Elites harbored the same beliefs the old Operator had ingrained into them. They were pompous, prestigious, upper-class bigots who wouldn’t advocate for equality if it held them in the air by the throat and forced them to.

Your dad had played a very dangerous game, where his need to be adored outweighed his need to rule. He had measured up to the Elites, but just barely, in favor of keeping the Resistance at bay.

But despite his efforts, they wanted another cruel, cold-hearted Operator like your grandfather and all of his ancestors.

And so, they wanted to take him down for the milestones he had created.

He must have seen the cogs turning in your head, because he spoke again, reaching out to hold your hands,

“But my dear… as long as you are here, I am safe- they cannot lay a finger on me, but listen to me when I say do not trust them- no matter how they may bow to you and kiss your feet, they will never follow you unless you preach their outdated ideals,” he advised, "Do not yield."

You were lucky you had decided to try in the competition from here on out. For it was no longer a matter of wanting to win it. You needed to win it.

A knock on the door made you snap your head toward it, and Candypop’s voice rang out

“Times up Y/N, you got meet and greets!”

////

Whatever had been going on for weeks in the Nation had manifested itself to you in the form of screaming.

It seemed as though you and Liu had been the Nation’s heartthrobs for a while now. Judging by how many pictures you took, the hands you shook, and photos of yourself that you signed, you were pretty popular.

You had to greet fans who lined up next to a barricade stretching longer than your eyes could see, and it seemed as though everyone who was there had something to say,

“We knew you were together from day one!!!!! OTP"

“I’m literally your biggest fan!”

“Oh Liu, please marry me, right now I’m on my knees!”

“Y/N, do you know how gorgeous you are?!”

With every step you took, another compliment was fired toward the two of you, and bouquets were passed up to you. You accepted each one graciously, and couldn’t help but indulge all of the eager fans in their excitement.

Had it not been for Liu, holding you tight with his right hand, you would have probably been trampled, or forgot how to walk. His ability to handle fame as though he had been ready for it his entire life was another thing to marvel at, on top of the smoothness of his voice when he answered questions, and the wit in his sentences when he told a joke.

You understood how so many girls were crazy about him. He was like a member of a boyband, crafted perfectly for their desire.

You were learning a lot right now.

///

After the meet and greet, you were escorted by security to a famous Hotel & Casino, Candle Cove, owned by one of the most notorious businessmen in the Nation who went by the alias ‘The Skintaker’.

You barely had time to breathe as you were handed a cocktail by him- shimmery silver and fit with a red umbrella

“Perfect for a princess, miss Y/N,” he had squawked, linking both arms with you and Liu and leading you over to a quiet, dimly lit booth, before excusing himself to prepare your meals.

“And that’s how it’s done,” Liu groaned, leaning back against his side of the booth. You saw his usual halcyon eyes blink with exhaustion, and you couldn’t even muster a laugh.

“You don’t feel guilty?” you asked him through a murmur as you sipped on your cocktail. You were exhausted, too, but you had accepted that the night wasn’t ending anytime soon, and let that steer you.

“About what? The other guys?” he asked.

Honestly, if there was a time for Liu to show off a fatal flaw of self-righteousness, it was now.

But it didn’t come.

“Yeah, I do… but I mean, it’s not our fault, we were basically coerced into it… plus, it’s not as if we’re lying-”

“Aren’t we technically lying by omission?” you asked, and you saw him wince a little with the realization.

“They’re gonna find out… they’ll be mad when they do, but we had no other choice, Y/N, look at the state your dad was in, you’re telling me any of them wouldn’t do the same?”

He spoke with a rational mind, and be it due to the potential paparazzi lingering around every table and slot machine in the place, or simply because he wanted to comfort you, kept holding your hand over the table.

“Maybe I’m the asshole, but these few weeks have been hell for us…”

You nodded.

“All that training, Korbyn being killed, Zalgo threats and concerns about our parents… we’re young, Y/N, we aren’t supposed to suffer that much worry,”

You nodded again, finding nothing to respond to his dignified words, and simply continued sipping until your cocktail was finished.

“I’ve always wanted this life, yaknow…” he spoke again, avoiding your gaze.

“Really?” you asked, the weight of the liquor hitting you so suddenly. It seemed like his was having a similar effect because he let out a small giggle. It was a light sound- exactly the type of laugh you’d expect from someone like Liu Woods- melodic and charming,

“Yeah,” he continued, “Being famous, having people scream my name, signing autographs… but maybe I’m just a narcissist,” he joked, and you laughed.

But you understood. You never once complained about having people love you by default. It was one of the best feelings in the world to have strangers cheer you on for doing nothing at all.

“I know exactly what you mean,” you squeezed his hand, and he let out another sigh like he had just lost a battle with himself.

“So… would it really be so bad to just… let loose for the night? Pretend we aren’t lying by omission and face it in the morning?” he asked you, sounding as though he was waiting for you to call him a pig and slap him across the face.

But you didn’t.

You, your tipsy head, and your desire for adventure did not need convincing one bit.

///

“AAAAAND ANOTHER WIN!”

Skintaker’s voice rattled off of every wall in the casino. It was just past midnight, and you were neck deep in gambling in a game of poker.

Tomorrow, you would wake up and taste the glitter on your clothes.

Tonight, you felt like a rockstar.

You were sitting on Liu’s lap, courtesy of a few tabloid writers' presence in the casino. You knew every move you made was likely being documented for tomorrow’s headlines, complete with sets of pictures, so you decided to give them a show.

The clinking of coins and lively chatter around you only egged on your now-drunken state, while Skintaker insisted on filling up your cocktail glass every time you finished it. You weren’t complaining, and neither was Liu.

Plus, the alcohol in your system made it easier to pretend you were a couple, but even that incentive was nothing compared to the way Liu’s huge hands squeezed your waist and kissed your cheek each time you rolled.

With every win (and it seemed as though the two of you were naturals at poker), you would lace hands and cheer, and those around you would clap and laugh at your almost childish fluorescence.

“My good luck charm,” he’d boast, pointing to you when he tugged another round of chips toward you both, “How lucky am I that she’s so beautiful, too?”

////

After heaps of rounds, you had seen enough of the patterned carpets and waitresses, and it seemed as though Liu had, too. This was your night of freedom, and it was still young.

You moved to the slot machines together for a spontaneous photoshoot by a famous magazine editor, and you couldn’t help but remember Ben, and how he had done that impromptu photoshoot just before the interviews with you all. You thought about how ABBA had played and became hyper-aware of clinking coins, shuffling cards, and scattered chips.

The guilt scorched your skin, but left in seconds when Liu’s silky voice distracted you,

“You look like a movie star-” he laughed when the photographer’s flash began to click, “You wanna dance with me before we go?”

He gestured to the club next door. Skintaker must have been a fun-loving guy because having a club right next to a casino was not something you’d ever expect. Of course, it was a club for rich people, meaning it was more of a ballroom- but they were also extremely drunk and high on their gambling, so you couldn’t split hairs.

The whole place was dressed to the nines, and the two of you were no different, but Liu blended in like a chameleon to the walls, dancing and laughing and spinning you like he owned the building.

You felt like starlight.

“How are you so good at this?” you managed, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him sway with you to the music.

“It’s not hard when your fake girlfriend’s the Nation’s princess,” he laughed,

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, spinning out and back into his chest,

“I mean,” he began, “You were on my TV screen since I was old enough to sit in front of a TV screen, I had the biggest crush on you when I was little-”

Your eyes widened at his somewhat confession, and he only laughed,

“I said when I was little- don’t let it get to your head princess-”

You flicked his nose, and he only threw his head back with laughter. You couldn't help but join in.

////

You left the Casino at 2 am and decided to explore the city for a while. Of course, you were being followed by security, but there was no admin, so a win was a win.

After looking in closed shop windows and staring at the stars in the sky (and choking down guilt when you could only think of Ben), you decided to settle into a saloon-like bar. It was one of the oldest, most treasured places in the city, owned by a sweet old man who had grown up on the outskirts of the Nation and had been offered a placement inside due to his nature and sheer talent for making drinks.

It carried the charm of the outskirts you had once seen on the day of your interviews- the dainty markets and homely vendors. It’s wooden beams and old chairs made you feel right at home.

You were still drunk, and answering bullshit questions that those who had been lucky enough to drink with you asked. No one was under the age of fifty, and you were silently grateful for the lack of teenagers and industry marketers.

They wanted to know everything about you. When did you meet? How did you know? Who made the first move? Were you pregnant? And all of the old ladies were eager to give you advice on marriage and all that came after.

You both lied through your teeth, a talent that had been polished and perched like a trophy in the dark this weekend. You traced the scars on Liu’s skin, the same ones you had once cut open during training, and became hypnotized by the bumps and the grooves along them, losing yourself in clinking glasses and the smell of beer.

Maybe you were too drunk to think straight, or maybe he was just too good of a liar, but you couldn’t help but imagine a life like this. A life where your nights consisted of talking to the locals, or sitting in his arms and laughing and kissing like you had been stitched together your entire life.

You rested your head on his chest as he told the older men about how your eyes lit up when you smiled, and for a second, you pretended it was real.

You wondered how he did it so well. You weren’t exactly in love with him, nor did you even have a crush. But the way he spoke and held you and respected you made you scared to look him in the eye for more than a glance just in case.

“Between you and I,” one of the ladies slurred slightly, touching your arm with the gentleness of a stranger you had never known, “We’ll be endorsin’ the both of you… what they’re doin’ out there ain’t fair- makin’ you fight like cattle for resources,” she nodded, “This Nation needs the love that you two got for each other if it ever wants to know peace-”

The glimmer in her eye told you all you needed to know about her genuine spirit, and it made you want to tear up at the prospect that kindness did exist for free.

“Partners in crime, right princess?” Liu looked over at you from where he was holding your coat, ready to help you into it with a knowing wink. You took the saloon in one final time- its comforting walls and soft leather stools, and nodded, following him outside again.

You got back to your hotel, where the coldness of your bed made you even more aware of how his touch had warmed you up. Of how this night had probably been the best night of your entire life. Of how none of it was real.

But the hotel bed was more than comfortable, and the two of you whispered about the day until you fell into a deep sleep.

And it would have ended on a lovely note, too, if you didn’t wake up in the front seat of Laughing Jack’s car. 

Chapter Text

The motel was dark, with an undertone of unease that made you shiver and wrap your arms around your body the second you entered it. Not only was it unhomely, foreign, and damp, it was in the middle of absolute fucking nowhere.

No signal, no internet, no one, except for the tall, monochrome clown who seemed to have you right in the palm of his hand, and he wouldn’t speak a word until the door of the room was shut and bolted.

“You know why we’re here, dont’cha sunshine?” he spun around, the sudden eerieness of his tone making you freeze in your footsteps. His talent for matching his pitch to whatever the situation called for was at its pique tonight.

And you did know, or at least your subconscious did. He wasn’t exactly subtle about what he wanted with you.

You were standing in the center of the room, the yellowing carpet and the hum of the heating beneath it. He was sitting on the double bed, which had looked poorly made up, with its pillows without cases and old-patterned bedsheets, looking like a ringmaster about to give the show of a lifetime. The sight of him sitting on the end of it looked more out of place than you felt right now.

And he was sizing you up.

You could tell by the way he shifted his hips to adjust… himself… and by the clear indication of what was going on underneath his pants.

“Hurry up n’ take it off then princess…” he ordered in a sultry tone.

In seconds, the night dress you had slept in was pooled around your ankles.

You didn’t know why you obeyed so blindly, especially considering he was practically the bane of your existence, with all of his staring and meddling and getting in the way of your life. You supposed it was down to intimidation, but you couldn’t stop the nagging voice in the back of your head that told you maybe, just maybe, you wanted this too.

You could practically feel the heat of his gaze as he sized you up, and goosebumps pinpricked your skin for reasons other than blatant fear of what was coming next.

Subconsciously, you wet your lips, becoming all too aware of his silence and the fact your underwear was still clinging to your now soaking-wet skin.

Screw your body for making it so hard to resist him…

Your thumbs traced the lace of the material, and you began to slide them down your thighs when his voice cut through the silence like a spotlight beginning a show.

“Who told you to do that?”

His voice was low, almost guttural, and carried a tone of possession and threat that made you halt in your tracks and gulp. You couldn’t help but feel your nipples harden for him to see and fought the urge to clench your thighs at the voyeuristic element of it all.

“Crawl to me,” he ordered before you could speak, and your breath caught in your throat.

Crawl to him?!

You had just spent 24 hours being praised like a queen by the Nation, with hundreds of thousands of people practically worshipping you for existing. And he was asking you to crawl on your knees to him? The man who did nothing but haunt you and bruise you?

It was humiliating.

And you had never been more turned on.

So you crawled to him, hands and knees on the thick carpet, gazing at your shadowed silhouette painted on the wall, distorted like a house of mirrors, for you to marvel at.

You stopped at the foot of the bed, right in front of his feet, and sat on your knees, looking up at him with a hint of curiosity and utter need.

He smirked down to you, and his huge fist curled around your hair, holding you in place as he unzipped his pants. His cock was in your mouth before you could even process it, but you weren't complaining at all.

Somewhere along the line of training and being officially judged by Laughing Jack made you a little addicted to his praise and approval. You had suffered one too many “keep trying”s and one too little “amazing work”s for your liking, and right now, you were proving yourself to be his best student ever.

He was groaning, head thrown back and hypnotic eyes whirling as you took him to the back of your throat, licking and sucking and choking on him as if your entire status depended on it.

“God… what would the Nation say if they saw you now…?” he groaned, yanking your hair up to meet his gaze, “Princess is a little whore, gettin’ on her knees for her mentor…”

You nodded through an unintelligible moan, using your hands to take care of what was left of the dick you couldn’t fit inside your mouth.

“God, you’d be nowhere without me…” he grunted, tugging you to your feet with a shriek. His unnaturally long fingers stroked over your throbbing pussy, before suddenly smacking down on it. The sound echoed, your slickness against his fingertips making a loud slapping sound, and the yelp that left your mouth only added to it.

“Who owns you?” he practically barked, smacking his hand against your pussy again, only to pull it away when you rubbed it desperately against him.

You whined in response, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, because damn… you didn't know how needy you were until right now.

“Tell me who owns you n’ you can get more pretty girl…”

“You.” you practically pleaded,

“Say it louder,” he humored, his voice taking on a curl as you took a shaky breath.

God, if any of your housemates could see you now… if JACK could see you now…

“You! I belong to you!” your voice broke slightly, and the feeling of his fingers being shoved inside of you made your mind numb in a way you knew you’d never forget.

“Ain’t that right…” he muttered, more to himself than you, before grabbing a handful of your ass with his other hand. Tears fell down your pretty face as his fingernails scratched marks deep enough to scar into the flesh, but mixed with the pleasure of his fingers inside of you, you couldnt help but moan.

“God, you are so wet sunshine…” he cooed, taking his fingers out of you and shoving them into your mouth, “Taste how good you are… that’s it pretty girl… good job…” he praised, and you had flashbacks to endless training sessions with him when he would use those same two words in an entirely different context.

If only past you could see yourself now…

You were still lost in the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you that you barely registered the change in position until he pulled them out, and you were gasping with the desperate feeling of being edged so hard you felt like passing out,

“Pl…fuck… please… please Jack….” You begged, shuddered breaths falling from your parted lips.

You felt like a trapeze artist, falling headfirst into the abyss with nothing but blind faith to keep you in flight.

You thought he was going to be cruel about it, but you were pleasantly surprised at his seeming need for you, because he had pushed his cock inside of you without any warning. You felt it as it filled you up and saw the clear outline of it in your stomach.

Jesus Christ you fit like a glove.

You barely had a chance to inhale before you squealed, the feeling practically euphoric. His fist was in your hair again, the other gripping your hips and controlling you as you rode him.

Harder. Faster. Up and down. More aggressive by the second.

“Oh my g-god…” you moaned out, feeling your tits bounce up and down as the feeling of him made everything inside of you tingle and scramble. And just when you thought you had reached your tipping point, his long, pointed tongue was on your nipples, sucking and kissing until your entire body was shaking with pleasure.

“Oh god, Jack.”

“Keep goin’ sunshine, such a good little girl for your mentor…”

You felt his movement go jerkier and his thrusts grow more desperate, and you fell into a stupor of being so overwhelmed with the feeling of it you couldn't do anything but moan like it was all you were made to do.

“Cum for me beautiful…”

And you did, your eyes rolling back and your fists clenching, and you knew then and there you had just made the best worst decision of your entire career. 

Chapter Text

You ever sit down at the end of a long day and watch an episode of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills? Alternatively, if you’re from the UK, an episode of Big Brother? And not just any episode- I mean one of THE episodes. Episodes where there’s a huge fight- plates smashing and screaming and shouting, and you’re on the edge of your seat the entire time because it’s TV gold?

Great! If you know what I’m talking about, then you’ll have no problem visualizing the scene you walked into when you got home from the motel. 

And if you’re sitting there like, ‘babe, I love you, but I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about’, then let me paint the picture myself:

It was seven in the morning. 

You, in all of your regal glory, were being dropped home to the mansion in your pajamas, with eyeliner still smudged on your face, and your hair looking like a bird’s nest on your head. On top of all of this, you were walking with a limp, because every single organ inside of your body felt as though it had been brutally rearranged six times over. 

The only thing on your mind as you hobbled up the stone pathway to the front door of the mansion, was a beautiful bath and some hot chocolate to bring on the Christmas season, because Laughing Jack was NOT the aftercare type. Shocker, I know. 

You almost tripped over the black and red cat that had now nestled itself on the front steps, and you muttered a brief apology. The past twenty-four hours had been nothing but a fever dream, and part of you was still wondering when you’d wake up. 

You didn’t even question why he dropped you straight to the mansion instead of the residential home like you had expected. It was still Sunday morning after all, and as far as the information package went, the Skills Harnessing Retreat was supposed to last until at least that afternoon.

But as I said, your head was still spinning, and the only thing you could think of was keeping yourself upright. If anything, you were grateful for the sudden location change. 

Until you opened the front door. 

Jack- your Jack- the Jack that you had been somewhat avoiding recently- had Liu pinned by the throat on the sofa, and the two of them were screaming bloody murder at each other- their voices bellowing and echoing off every wall in the mansion. 

The rest of your housemates were no calmer. 

Jane, for one, was standing at the kitchen door, her hands in her hair, looking as though she was three seconds from snapping. 

Clockwork, on the other hand, was screaming “BEAT HIS ASS JACK!” at the top of her lungs, her fists clenched and her eyes narrowed with disgust. 

Nina was trying to pull Toby away from Jeff, but the two of them were adamant in making their argument louder and angrier than any of the others. Toby was clenching a lamp in his hand, and Jeff was shoving him and daring him to do something with it. 

Helen was glaring ice into Liu’s skull. Brian was next to Nina, trying to wrestle the lamp out of Toby’s hand.

Tim was nowhere to be seen. 

The front door closed behind you, and silence closed in on the room as your presence became acknowledged. 

Somehow, this was worse than giving that speech to the nation.

You searched and found Liu’s gaze first, noticing the blackening bruise on his eye and blood trickling down from his lip. He wore an expression of desperation, and you knew then and there what was going on here. 

They had found out. 

It didn’t take long at all for your suspicions to be confirmed. 

“Oh look, the princess has joined the party… care to tell us where the FUCK you were last night?!” Jeff of all people, snarled, taking a very menacing step toward you. You made a point not to take a step back. 

“Yo, shut yo-” Liu tried, but Jack’s hand around his throat shut him up again. 

“Yeah,” Clockwork added, the silence in the room uncomfortable and demanding, like a spotlight had opened up above your head for ridicule, “Cus last we all heard, you had no fuckin’ plans to betray us all like that,” 

She spoke oddly calmly, and you had a brief flashback to the time she fired the knife into the kitchen wall when Ben had tried to intrude on your dinner. You gulped. 

“I…” you started, but Jeff cut you off, 

“We know where you were,” he snapped, “Motherfuckin’ traitors,” 

“Why’d you do it?” Clockwork demanded, “Was the public favor not already enough for you? You just HAD to go make sure you were winnin’, huh?” She let out a mix between a laugh and a scoff, and it stung you worse than any punch ever could. 

You were too busy trying to come up with something that didn’t make you look pathetic to notice Liu wrangling himself out of Jack’s grip. 

“Leave her the fuck alone,” he spoke up, his eyebrows furrowed, while Jack turned to face him, looking as demonic as ever, 

“Look at her again and I swear you’re dead,” he hissed, 

“You don’t fucking scare me-” Liu shot back, and Jack was on him like a bullet, closed fist rushing toward Liu’s face.

“JACK STOP.” You yelled, the anger coming onto you all of a sudden, “Give us a chance to explain ourselves at least!" 

“Explain yourselves?” Jack shot back up onto his feet, wiping the corner of his lip where Liu had packed in a punch. Suddenly, you didn’t feel too confident about it anymore.

“Oh go ahead Mrs. Liu Woods!” he continued, “Why don’t you explain whatever the hell that was last night to all of us, cus trust me, I wanna know,” 

It was the most words you had heard him speak since you had last properly seen each other, and the most words you had heard him speak that didn’t consist of him telling you to suck or swallow. You caught a glimpse of the boy who had taken you on a date all those moons ago, and it fucking hurt.

“I agree,” Clockwork glared, gesturing toward the two of you with a mocking smirk,

“They can’t, course they can’t,” Jeff barked, “The two of them are nothing but fucking traitors,”

The three of them were taking small steps toward you both, and you felt fear creep into your veins. They could kill you right now. 

“I think we need to teach them to keep their mouths shut from now on,” Clockwork hummed, the look of pure hatred in her eyes. You watched as Jane and Nina did nothing about it, and felt your stomach twist. 

This was the worst day of your life. 

“Guys,” Liu started, 

“Oh I think they need more than a lesson,” Jeff hummed, ignoring him, his voice ironically calm while his right hand pulled out his knife- clean and shiny- from the pocket of his white hoodie. 

“Traitors get disqualified,” Clockwork barked out another laugh, and you sighed,

“This isn’t neces-” you began

“SHUT UP.” Jeff spat, his eyes wide and flickering with a flame of utter evil, and you flinched as they moved closer to you,

“Ya know Y/N, your head would go real nice on my-”

“GUYS!”

Ben’s voice was like lightning, and you couldn’t help but notice how the electronics in the room flickered with the intensity and volume. Everyone, even Jeff, jumped at the sudden sound,

“Guys,” Ben repeated, making his way toward you all and standing in front of you and Liu, almost protectively, “Look at yourselves right now,” he spat, “For someone who was so caught up in NOT forming bonds in here, you sure are fucking offended when someone does something without telling you about it first… you won’t even hear them OUT.”

“Oh, go ahead Ben, take their side,” Jeff scoffed, lifting a hand to shove him out of his way, but it was caught in mid-air by Brian,

“Ben’s right,” he sighed, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder and forcefully pulling him away from where he was looming over Liu, “Y/N has just walked through the door, Liu’s bleeding and everyone’s exhausted…. We’ve had a really tough weekend, and everyone’s emotions are heightened,” he spoke, and ignored anyone (Jeff) who tried to chime in and tell him to shut up,

“We can’t have a conversation about this until we calm,” he turned to focus his gaze on Jack, who had not relented his seething, “the fuck down,” 

“Exactly,” Ben nodded, “We can’t start attacking them when we don't know what happened- who knows what they were put up to? We of all people know what it’s like out there- the Nation’s elites are fucking ruthless,” 

You could tell he was doing his best to defend you with what little knowledge he had. 

The room went silent before Nina spoke up, 

“I agree,” she said, and you felt as though a tiny weight had been lifted off of your back. Having one of the girls give you a chance made the world of a difference.

“Me too,” Toby spoke up, crossing his arms, “L-et them tell their side,” 

One by one, everyone decided to agree, and you stood there silently thanking whoever was up there for people like Ben and Brian. Who knows what would have happened if they hadn't stepped in?

//

Twenty minutes later you were in your bedroom, staring into your vanity mirror, tears streaming down your face, and wondering how the hell you got here. 

They thought you were a traitor. Sure, they were giving you a turn to tell your side, but still. Their opinions of you had been warped. You were no longer the kind, humble girl you had prided yourself on. You were a traitor. 

You shouldn’t have done it. You shouldn’t have signed that NDA. You should have let your dad work it out like he always did. You shouldn’t have messed it all up. 

So you cried, and you wallowed in your fall until you fell asleep, dreaming again of wishing wells and forest fires and whispers and chants until you woke up to an all too familiar banging. 

If it had been any other day, you would have questioned it. But this wasn’t any other day. Banging on the walls was the least of your concerns right now.

“Yeah I get it Zalgo shut the fuck up,” you muttered. 

But it wasn’t banging on your walls.

It was banging on your door. 

You swung it open to find Liu, holding two mugs of peppermint tea. He had cleaned up, but the cut on his lip was still clear and the bruise on his eye was darkening. 

“Hey…” you croaked out, hyper-aware of the disastrous state you looked in right now. 

The two of you sat on your bed, revisiting the entire situation from start to finish, considering everyone’s different stances on what happened and who would be the most to least likely to understand. He reassured you about your guilt, and you knew he was right- you didn’t have a choice, but hearing everything downstairs didn’t sting any less. 

“We’ll explain it to them,” he soothed, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you into him for a hug. The smell of his cologne transported you back to two nights ago when you felt on top of the world- euphoric and unstoppable, and for a moment, you forgot how rock bottom tasted. 

The two of you swayed back and forth, just like that, for a while, before you shook your head, 

“God Liu, I feel like such a prick…” you muttered. 

“You aren’t, I promise…” he soothed, his fingers running through your hair like it didn’t feel hardened with hairspray and in desperate need of conditioning, “They’ll come around…”

Something about the way he spoke like he was so sure of himself, made you believe it, and so the two of you sat there in peaceful oblivion until the weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy.

///

Being estranged in your own house was up there with one of the worst feelings ever, right next to being threatened in your own living room. 

You needed some alone time that wasn’t spent looking yourself in the eye through mirrors and stalking the expanse of your room like a restless animal in a cage, so you waited until the last pair of footsteps had come up the creaky stairs to go into the kitchen. 

Thankfully, there was no trace of anyone who wasn’t you. 

You quietly sat on the backyard porch, a blanket around your shoulders and an endless sea of stars for you to lose your thoughts in. Somewhere along the line, the black and red cat had returned, and curled up in your lap like a little heating pad, purring with every touch you placed on him. 

You wondered if it remembered you after all these years. You wondered why it had suddenly come back. 

You sat there in your senseless theories of rainstorms and foreign countries until you heard the back door open, and you winced. 

“Hey Y/N, mind if I sit with you?”

Your shoulders relaxed. 

It was Ben, and his uncharacteristically calming voice simultaneously made you feel both better and worse, but of course, you accepted his request because you knew he wasn't here to fight you. Plus, who were you to deny Ben the stars?

“Jeff found a key,” he began to explain, “Everyone was losing their shit, even Tim, and we broke curfew to find out what door it led to… me, Tim, Jeff, and Toby, I mean,” he nodded, “We wondered where the admin were, considering there was a curfew but none of them were around…”

As his story went, the four of them found that the key opened one of the offices, and inside it, they found a laptop with the live stream playing on NationTV. They had seen it all: you, Liu, your outfits, both speeches, the kiss, your dad’s blessing, the news coverage, and all of the paparazzi shots afterward. 

Everything you thought was yours and only yours was now known by the entire mansion, and you weren’t sure you knew how to feel. 

You also realized what that meant for Liu. The Woods brothers had a complicated relationship, to put it in oversimplified and frankly, misunderstood terms. Complicated was the tip of their iceberg. You couldn't imagine how things would be now that Jeff had heard what Liu had admitted about him, be it for the greater good or not. 

And although Ben was telling you the story from an unbiased perspective, you could tell by the hesitation in his voice how he felt. 

The two of you sat in the silence when he finished, admiring how the stars twinkled above you, before he spoke again,

“Why did you do it, Y/N…?”

So you told him everything. 

“I… I just couldn’t risk it, I’m sorry Ben, I really am… I was selfish and… but, my dad-”

“Hey,” he interjected, “Hey, no, I get it,”

And you knew he did. 

“My dad’s honestly the only reason I’m here…” you admit, and part of you wasn’t sure why you chose now of all times to tell Ben your secret and sudden motivations, “I just wanna give him a good life after all he’s done for me…”

“Totally…” he nodded to you, shifting closer so you could feel his body heat against yours, “I get it- I mean, my dad’s a dick, but if something got in the way of my reason to be here, I’d kiss the Nation’s ass too…”

“What IS your motivation?” you asked him, curiosity seeping in and drowning out your sadness,

“I wanna be an astronaut,” he shrugged, and you let out a small laugh. Of course he did.

“I know I could’ve gone the typical route, but I want… I wanna control it all… it sounds dumb but I wanna work on taking pollution out of the sky, and controlling the operations up there, I wanna explore space,” he nodded to you, “Gotta conquer the earth before you take on the other planets,” he joked.

You smiled, and nodded your head, “Ya know if I wasn’t your competition, you’d get my vote,”

“Ditto,” he said and ruffled your hair. 

The two of you spent a little while longer together, talking about the fucked up way of the world and the mess it had pulled you into. He told you about how messed up Jack was over you, and you told him how you felt about it all. He promised that your housemates would come round, and told you to take care of yourself, before disappearing back into the mansion. 

You looked up at the stars and wished on every single one of them for Ben.

Chapter Text

Forgiveness came in bursts. 

At the beginning of the week, you had known rock bottom like the back of your hand, with no one but Ben and Liu to see you through it. The two of you had explained yourselves, omitting only the details of the nature of your relationship. You weren’t sure why, but there was something that told you it was better left unsaid that it was fake, at least for now. 

Throughout the explanation, you could see expressions twist from disgust to slow understanding, but none of that meant you were forgiven. 

Nina was the first to knock on your bedroom door. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t defend you more than I did,” she started, sitting cross-legged on your bed the way she always did, “It’s just… everything was so… and…”

“I get it,” you reassured her, “I’d be mad if I were you, too,” 

And somehow that was a good enough start. 

///

Toby came to you next, although you weren’t sure if he really counted because he had been on your side from the beginning. 

“Hey,” he ruffled your hair, joining you in your walk down the hallway, “If an-anyone even LOOKS at you wrong a-fter your explanation, I’ll maim them m-myself,” 

You knew he meant it. 

///

Helen forgave you silently. There were no exchanges of ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I understand’ to be had. He simply smiled at you when you entered the kitchen and saw him painting, and took his satchel off the chair next to him so you could sit down. 

The two of you then sat in amicable conversation, with you watching him paint, and him talking about his art. 

It didn’t take long for you to realize that, of course, he forgave you. You had heard him out for being part of the resistance not too long ago. If anything, his lack of acknowledgment of the situation only enforced the silent understanding between you both. 

///

Jane, who couldn’t last more than a day without addressing an uncomfortable silence, reassured you that the entire thing could be forgotten about altogether by standing in your doorway and waiting for you to walk down to breakfast, 

She asked, by happenstance, if you had seen ‘anyone in particular’ while exploring the Nation, and it didn’t take a genius to know that this ‘anyone in particular’ had to have a head of blonde hair and big blue eyes. You told her that you hadn’t, and the two of you resumed your playful teasing about the other’s love lives. 

///

Jeff didn’t forgive you at all, but he let up on the notion of wanting you dead, so there was that. 

He still muttered snarky comments when you got in his way, and rolled his eyes whenever you spoke too loudly or said something he disagreed with, but he did the same to most of your housemates. You wished you cared more about his bitterness. 

///

It took Clockwork a while, but you could tell she was trying. 

She did give a mumbled apology to you after your explanation, and it meant the world to hear. 

“I shouldn't have threatened you like that, Y/N,” she strained out, eyebrows furrowed like the words physically hurt to come out of her mouth, “Sure, you fucked up, but I shouldn’t have done that either, not cool on my part,"

You told her that it was fine, and the two of you shared a small nod that told you it was the end of it. 

///

You didn't have the patience to face Jack right now. 

Tim, however, shattered you whole. 

He hadn’t even met the boundary of forgiveness. He had refused to hear you out.

Since you had come home, you hadn’t seen him once, and you knew he had been avoiding you like a seasonal illness he wasn’t too fond of catching.

The entire time you stood and explained yourself to the rest of your housemates, you couldn't help but direct your words at the empty chair reserved for him, and pray that he was listening to you from behind an alcove or the stairway. 

He wasn’t. 

The guilt had stung when it came to the others, but completely electrocuted you and left you sizzling when it came to Tim. The two of you had spent hours upon hours together, cracking codes that the Admin had planted and scribbling nonsensical theories and bullshit down in books and up on whiteboards. You had mastered the art of communicating through hidden glances and mouth twitches, and here you were, throwing it all away in the name of the ‘greater good’. 

You were no better than the Nation yourself. 

So you went to him with a notion to apologize in a way that mattered. 

He didn’t speak a word when you knocked and entered his room, but he didn’t kick you out, either. 

“Look, Tim-”

He interrupted you, 

“Save it, Y/N,”

You sighed, more so to yourself than to him. His coldness was expected, but it still froze you over. 

“I was forced to do it,” you rushed out and prepared yourself for his words of wrath; for the ice-cold shoulder to manifest into flame and erupt on you like it so often did. 

But it never came.

“You still did it,” was all he said, and suddenly the freeze in the air had dropped to a full-blown snowstorm in your chest. 

“I know,” you mustered out, “and I’m sorry…”

He only shrugged. 

That was how you knew you had totally fucked up. His nonchalance was the receipt of your self-service. 

You stood, staring at him, knowing nothing you could say would fix it. Knowing him better than to assume he would want to hear what pitiful things you had to explain yourself with. You had seen him angry, you had seen him sarcastic. You had never seen him silent. 

So you waited until he gave in, 

“Ya know,” he finally spoke, shaking his head to himself as though he were having a conversation with a ghost in the room, “The worst thing is that I actually thought I could trust you, Y/N,”

Now it was your turn to be silent. The knife was wedged in your chest, and he continued to twist it, 

“Turns out you were just the Nation’s princess after all…just waiting for her crown,” 

You gulped, feeling nothing, numb, and empty. Feeling like everything you had been was a byproduct of everything you were now. 

“That’s not true Tim, you know that’s not true,” you tried,

He raised his eyebrows and gestured to you, “That’s not what the livestreams are saying-” His tone was unimpressed,

“And since when did you start believing what the Nation’s livestreams were saying?” you spoke up, trying to grapple at strings to keep you hanging onto the edge of his cliffside. 

“Since I heard you speak on them,”

You fell from the edge, right into a pit of regret and realization that there was no simple way out of this. That you had betrayed his trust and he had every right to feel how he did. 

“Look,” you sighed, “I’m sorry, and you don’t have to forgive me, but I am, I should have told you, I should have found a way around it, I’m sorry,” 

He didn’t answer you, only returned to what he had been doing- scribbling down notes on a piece of paper. 

You left without saying goodbye. 

///

The forest was not icey for this time of year, but you had no complaints. 

Your newfound feline companion was padding along next to you, perching on each branch of every tree as you explored. You had come here for solace, for an escape from the argument and tension that hung over you when you thought of Tim for too long, but you couldn't help but feel… something else. 

Like you had been summoned. 

It was a feeling that bloomed in your chest and hammered on your ribcage like a compass pointing north was pricking you from the inside over and over. 

So you visited your flowers. 

The red and black cat let out a noise between a purr and a meow, circling the roses and gleefully pawing at them. You tilted your head and admired how its scarlet fur matched that of the blood-colored roses. 

 What a coincidence, you thought. 

You continued exploring, feeling that sensation in your chest spike higher than ever. The trees were barren,  save for the evergreens, and the chill of the air made the grass crunch beneath your feet. 

You walked frantically, hopping over branches and dodging boulders. The cat kept up with your pace, the two of you scanning every square inch of the grounds. 

And then you saw it.

There, flapping wildly in the distance with the wind, was the thing you knew you had come for.

Another piece of paper, pinned to a tree. 

You had it between your fingers within seconds, scanning the page, noticing first the symbol- the O with an X through it- the same one that had been scribbled onto the corner of the first letter you had received. You wondered the weight that it held, and why it had been inscribed so purposefully onto both letters, but the notion of actually reading them overpowered your curiosity. 

Dearest Y/N,

They have begun to leave me alone, no doubt due to your stellar performance just last week in the Nation. They are in awe of you, my child, as I knew they would be. However, I am here with a warning. They cannot trace my letters, but they will return soon. I love you, Y/N, and I will see you very soon. They-

The letter seemed to end there, as though someone had interrupted the writing of it. As though something had caused your dad to stop so suddenly. 

But then, you noticed, scrawled at the bottom of the page in rushed handwriting: 

DO NOT TRUST THE OLD MAN.

Chapter Text

To honor the season, you decided to neatly fold up the letter and file it away until at LEAST Boxing Day. 

Right now was Christmas week, and you’d be damned if you weren’t about to celebrate. 

Through a combined effort of manipulation, you and the girls managed to convince Kagekao to drive all of you into the beautiful outskirts of the nation to buy presents for each other, and through his tipsy state, he agreed. Having Kagekao drive you somewhere was definitely up there with your near-death experiences, but it was worth it. 

Snow had started to fall around you, and the cobblestone streets were frosty and white. You had fallen in love with this picturesque little village on your very first trip to the Nation, back when the interviews were taking place, and now you standing right in the middle of it, not as an observer, but as a visitor. 

It was a little snow globe of beauty, and you had an hour to make the best of it. 

You had decided that a Secret Santa would be best, considering there were twelve of you and you were all in your early 20s with very little money, despite the position you were competing for, and you had pulled out Helen, whilst Jane, Nina, and Clockwork had gotten Toby, Brian, and Ben respectively. 

The fruit market stalls had been replaced with a classic Christmas market, one much like you had only read about in books when you were little. Fairy lights lit up the booths, as vendors and craftsmen preoccupied your vision. It seemed as though everyone, everywhere, seemed to know nothing more than happiness.

You found a stall run by an old man donning a white beard and an apron. All around him were handmade crafted projects: tables, shelves, desks. You admired each and every one of them- real wood, real blood, sweat, and tears- until you saw it. The perfect gift. 

Sitting near the back, propped up next to a bowl of red grapes, was an easel. 

The man spoke to you with a gentle voice and made you laugh once or twice with an anecdote about his handiwork, and when you paid him, he gave you a set of acrylic paints for free. 

You did not know people could be so kind for no price at all. The past months had been swarmed with elites and industry slaves these people who traded things for kindness and pennies seemed foreign to you. 

There was no doubt they knew who the four of you were, considering you had been broadcast and marketed on every TV, radio, and business endlessly for the past three months, but they acted no different toward you than they did toward their other customers- the couples on dates, the children with their families, the teenage girls and their friends. 

For the first time in a very long time, you felt just as human as the rest of them. 

///////

On the 23rd of December, you decided to go shopping for a Christmas tree. 

You, Ben, Toby, Clockwork, and Brian. The fiesta extravaganza, as Toby had coined. 

Why did Brian offer to drive the four of you to a Christmas tree farm at 7 pm? Was it because he was bored? Was it because he had access to a car, now that Kagekao was passed out drunk on your sofa and had left his keys in the hallway? Your guess was as good as mine. Either way, it didn’t take an Operator to tell that he was regretting every single decision that led him into that front seat. 

He seemed to be on the brink of exploding, and for a moment, you wondered if he would consider giving up his fight in the ring if it meant getting to wrangle Toby right here, right now. 

Toby had come prepared with an abundance of festive cheer and an entire list of questions for Brian to answer about Christmas trees. You, Clockwork (whose mood had infinitely improved since Christmas talk began), and Ben tried not to laugh from the back seats.

“How do w-we know if it’s a real Christmas tree?”

“They're ALL real Christmas trees Toby.”

“How do trees even grow?”

“I don’t know Toby,” Brian muttered, and you could tell that Toby was likely doing his best to rile Brian up, rather than expressing genuine curiosity, 

“I don’t know Toby,”

“Do you think it’s like, G-God?”

“I don’t know Toby,” Brian’s eye twitched.

“Maybe it’s like ma-magic,”

No answer.

“Why do y-ou think-”

“I said I don’t KNOW Toby.” Brian snapped., his hands tightening white around the wheel. 

You and Clockwork made a point to stare out the window to avoid looking at each other and bursting into cackles like you always did. It didn;t help that Ben was voicing his own opinions every few seconds, winding Brian up like a toy for entertainment.

You zoned out, watching snowflakes race down your window, reliving memories of you and your dad building snowmen and having snowball fights in the wintertime. 

You wondered what he was doing right now. 

“Hold on Brian TURN IT UP TURN IT UP!” Ben suddenly jolted forward, snapping you from your bittersweet nostalgia and almost sending the car into a nearby tree,

“For FUCKS SAKE BEN DON’T DO THAT!” Brian snapped, but Ben wasn’t to be deterred, 

“It’s One Direction!”

Brian huffed but turned the volume up anyway. Sure enough, Steal My Girl had just begun, and by the consensus of reactions, everyone in the car except for Brian was a die-hard Directioner,

“Oh my god,” he groaned as Ben cleared his throat, “Guys, we’re in the Nation, I swear if you draw any attention to u-”

“SHE BEEN MY QUEEN SINCE WE WERE SIXTEEN WE WANT THE SAME THINGS WE DREAM THE SAME DREAMS ALRIGHT” 

You and Clockwork burst into laughter at Ben as Toby span around from the front seat to join in, ignoring the way Brian bat at him to put his damn seatbelt back on and shut up

The four of you immediately burst into the chorus like it was your purpose on earth,

“EVERYBODY WANNA STEAL MY GIRL

EVERYBODY WANNA TAKE HER HEART AWAY
COUPLE BILLION IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

FIND ANOTHER ONE CUS SHE BELONGS TO ME!”

The song continued, Brian eventually giving up shushing you whilst you and Clockwork did the ‘Na na na’s, and Ben and Toby performed the verses. Somewhere along the line, Toby’s hand had reached back to grab yours, and you were practically dancing together. 

You made eye contact with Brian in the front mirror, and couldn’t help but notice him smile at the four of you warbling. 

You couldn’t help but forget the weight of the world, just for a moment. 

////

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!”

Ben’s voice echoed down the hallway, and you pried open your bedroom door to greet him. Last night, the red-stomached cat had appeared and slept at the bottom of your bed, but this morning when you woke, he had gone again. You hoped he had gone to someplace warm because the chill outside was diabolical.

“There she is! Merry Christmas, Y/N!” he grinned, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug that felt like a satisfying stretch early in the morning, 

“Merry Christmas Ben!” you swayed with him as Nina’s door opened and she rushed to you with open arms. 

Liu, who was still compensating for the guilt he felt over the whole Nation speech, had joined forces with Clockwork and Brian to tackle dinner while you, Nina, and Helen collected all of the gifts and put them under the tree. If you had told yourself a year ago you would be spending Christmas this year with twelve housemates, who were simultaneously your competition in owning the Nation, you’d have laughed in your own face.

But here you were, arranging the gift bags. 

The smell of the turkey transported you back to childhood days of you and your dad. He was an intelligent, capable man, but the only thing that ever took him down was a Christmas turkey. Every year without fail, he burnt it to a crisp, and you were led to having some other form of meat instead.

You stifled a laugh at how your housemates got it first time. 

Nina was fixing baubles onto the tree that Smile had knocked down on his way to sitting next to Jeff, and you scratched him behind his ears as he passed. He had become something of a pet to all of you, despite your initial annoyance, and you took time to arrange his presents from Jeff neatly under the tree. 

You were surprised that some of the admin had bought you presents. Twelve wine-shaped bags neatly aligned themselves behind the tree, and beautiful pink bows atop neatly wrapped boxes made for a beautiful vision.

There was a single box, gift-wrapped in black and white striped paper, with a gift tag reading your name, which you stored away for later because the Nation only knows what HE got you. 

///

Dinner was a complete success. The twelve of you sat together, toasting and laughing and drinking, forgetting everything but the knowledge of how to celebrate in style with eleven of your closest companions.

Clockwork teasingly took credit for the beautiful food, as the two other boys rolled their eyes n response, and when you were finished and just about ready for a fat fucking nap, Jane decided it was prime time to whip out Helen’s camera (which had now been designated for important events) and take some pictures. 

“C’mon everyone, in front of the tree!” she ushered as Toby and Ben groaned from the sofa,

“Couldn’t we have done this BEFORE dinner?” Ben whined, “I literally CANNOT move,” 

But Jane’s mind was very difficult to change, and seconds later, the twelve of you were in front of the tree, smiling your brightest smiles. 

“Everyone say Operator!!” Jane grinned, and you all cheered it at the top of your voices, laughing as the shutters clicked over and over again. 

///

You had been initially nervous to give Helen his gift. I mean, this was Helen Otis, probably one of the coolest people you had ever met in your life. He probably had an abundance of easels at home… and what if he didn't even USE acrylic paint?

God, you felt like such an idiot, but his expressions calmed you down right away. 

He was smiling before he even finished unwrapping, the two of you sat together on the floor where you could actually have a private conversation. 

“You’re kidding me…” he shook his head, tearing off the paper and letting his mouth go agape, “Oh my god, Y/N…is this…?” he said, cheeks flushed, and you knew then and there you had done well. 

“It’s handmade… with bamboo…” you finished for him, “So you don’t have to use the one I got when I was seven anymore,” you chuckled, “You probably have tons of good easels back home, but-”

“I’ve never had one before-” he shook his head, his smile unfaltered. 

Your eyes widened. He looked at you like you put the stars in the sky and then went back and added the moon for a finishing touch.

You suddenly remembered his past. He was a resistance kid. Of course he didn’t grow up with luxuries like easels and artisty. 

His arms were around you before you knew it, and you froze before returning the hug. Familiar butterflies you thought had died resurrected for a moment as his skin brushed yours and strands of his onyx hair splashed against your cheek,

“Y/N, thank you so much,”

“Of course…” you cleared your throat, watching as his eyes flicked through the different acrylic colors, and feeling your heart warm up at the sight of it. 

Your secret santa present came as just as much of a surprise.

It was later in the night, and you were laying with your feet in Toby’s lap, watching him throw his hatchets at a target board Jane had bought for him when a rough tap on your shoulder jolted you upright. 

Great. It was Tim. Merry Christmas to you. 

“I need to talk to you,” he said curtly and disappeared into the hallway. You followed him, ready to hit him with the ‘Sorry, but I’m off duty for anything that isn’t Christmas related’ 

Instead, he handed you a gift bag, muttering a “Merry Christmas…” 

You handled it like you’d handle a bomb,

“Wait… you were my secret Santa?” you asked, laughing slightly in an attempt to urge him to forget about the current tension between the two of you, even for a moment,

“No, I got you it because you’re my best friend,” his sarcastic tone shot a bullet at you, but you dodged the hit and simply smiled,

“Well, aren’t I lucky?” 

Your jaw dropped softly as you opened the gift. In your hands was a hardback cover of your favorite book from your childhood, Coraline. As well as that, there was a set of sticky notes, highlighters, new pens, and a bookmark- each gift bought individually. You felt your stomach flip at the thought he had put into it. 

“How did you….?” you trailed off, 

“I saw how battered your original copy of it was… you needed it,” he finished you for, and you laughed. 

He was right.  The book had seen some shit. It had been read in forests and in baths and every night before bed by both you and your dad. It had come with you on holidays and trips. The book was hanging on its last legs. 

“Tim… this is so thoughtful, thank you…”

And be it the fact you were slightly tipsy on wine, or the fact that it was Christmas day and everything was lighter, you threw your arms around him, dismissing his surprised noise and how he awkwardly caught you in his arms, his big hands on either side of your waist.

And maybe it was your drunken imagination, maybe it was fact, but you swore he smiled back down to you. 

///

Andromeda had bought you all a pair of pajamas that, in her words, ‘brought out your best features’, and you couldn’t help but grin. They were beautiful. 

But something else caught your eye when all of the boxes were taken and opened. 

A thirteenth, wrapped in the same pink paper, with only a tag reading “for the candidates” on it. 

Ben seemed to notice it first, sliding across the floor, the expensive pink ribbon like sand between his fingers as he tossed it to the floor. 

Jeff, who had been feeding Smile some treats, had pushed his way over to the two of you with an expression you could only tell was half curious, half in disbelief. 

There, in Ben’s hands, was a key. 

You looked at Jeff first, and it seemed as though he was a step ahead of you, because his eyebrows were furrowed in a look that was less than confusion, but more than understanding. 

But he simply shrugged, and Ben decided that if it wasn’t good enough for Jeff, it wasn’t good enough for anyone, and went back to his drunken sing-song. 

You too, remained in the shadows, opting to go undetected as being as curious as you were. You noticed, however, that he slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie when he thought it was safe, and you decided to give him a day before you grilled him on it. 

You stayed in the doorframe, watching the party go down in front of you. 

You saw Jane and Nina, drunk and telling each other they loved each other. You saw Clockwork, firing Toby’s hatchets at targets alongside Ben. You saw Tim and Brian, laughing together over their drinks. You saw Helen, tracing his fingers over the wood of his easel. You saw Jeff and Liu talking for once without bitter undertones. 

All of it was soundtracked by Christmas music, namely Merry Xmas Everybody by Slade, and you felt right at home. 

“Ya know, I ever ha-d this growing up…”

You knew who it was just by the warmth that came with him, and you looked up and smiled,

“Really, Toby?”

His chestnut hair fell in locks around his flushed face, and the glow of the fireplace made the little brown flecks in his eyes dance and spin. The gash on his mouth was covered with Christmas bandaids- red ones with reindeer on them, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Mhm…”

His tone told you what kind of Toby you were talking to right now. Sometimes, he was Toby, who was spontaneous and sporadic. Sometimes he was Toby, who was dismal and darkened. Sometimes he was Toby, who was gentle and genuine. 

Right now, you had the third. 

“Me neither…” you nodded, “Christmas was usually just me and my dad, it’s weird to see so many people in here,”

You watched as Ben hopped on Clockwork’s back, the two of them singing their hearts out as they raced around the living room,

“Sa-me, only with my sis-ter…” he reached out and scratched his forearm before tapping his fingers on his jeans. Toby had only spoken of his sister, Lyra, a handful of times, and you noticed that when he did, his movements became a lot more frequent, as though he had an energy to burn that came only with her name. 

“My mo-om was great… til my d-dad became… well, my dad,” he nodded with a snort, and you knew not to pry. 

You turned your attention back to everyone in front of you,

“It’s weird that we’re all technically opponents, you’d think we would want to kill each other,” you laughed softly, watching Liu and Helen laugh together like they’d been best friends their entire lives. 

“Seems like we do have some hum-anity in us after all,” Toby joked, but you couldn't help but find the truth in it. You joined him in laughing and noticed how he didn’t take his eyes off you for a split-second. 

“I should go make sure Clockwork doesn’t kill someone with those hatchets,” you laughed, but his calloused hand gently grabbed your wrist before you could, 

“Wait, Y/N…you’re forgetting s-omething…” 

You looked back, noticing he was pointing upward, and following his finger right to the tip. 

And then it clicked.

Mistletoe. 

A warmth bloomed in your chest as you stood by him again, smiling with a drunken sensation that you simply never wanted to end. 

Neither of you said a word, only shared a smile as he leaned down to meet your height. His lips were warm and soft, the perfect climax to a beautiful night. 

He tasted like sparkling wine, and his heartbeat thumped beneath your hands on his chest. It was all you could hear, save for the blurred out wolf-whistle from someone in the living room.

The smell of his hair and the wood on his hands made your stomach fill with an eruption of butterflies that made you feel like you were floating on air, and you knew by the smirk on his lips that he felt the same,

“M-merry Christmas Y/N…” he nodded to you, when you stopped to catch your breath, heat in his cheeks to match your own

“Merry Christmas Toby…” You smiled back up to him, and the two of you went your separate ways.

///

“Y/N, please…”

“Jack, I have to go to bed,” 

The two of you were whispering in the kitchen at 3 am, snow pelting on the windows and pipes in the mansion groaning with the heat they were pumping into the place.

You had bumped into him by mistake, having assumed no one was downstairs, and gone down yourself to leave the cat some milk and food for the night, in case he decided to wander back to you. 

But when you shut the back door and turned to head upstairs, you were faced with the last person you wanted to see right now, staring right at you as he had done before the two of you became associated. 

“You don’t even love him-” he started and you rolled your eyes. You were still pissed off at him for making what was literally a life-or-death situation into a love triangle and blaming you for breaking his heart when it was never even yours in the first place. 

“Are you serious?!” you hissed, “Jack, please be serious right now,”

“I AM serious, Y/N, how do you think it felt seeing my girl on LIVE TV kissing LIU of all people when you KNEW I didn’t like him,”

Oh my god, he could NOT be for real right now. 

“First of all, Jack, we aren’t a couple,” you shot back to him, “And second of all, leave Liu out of this!”

“Oh, so you do love him,” he crossed his arms, looking half-defeated, half-ready to kill. You didn't know if it was natural for his species to be so… possessive, but Jesus Christ was it tiring.

“I’m going to bed,” you finished, but he was too fast, and had blocked your exit, standing in the doorway with his head tilted, 

“Tell me the truth, Y/N,”

“Leave me alone, Jack,” 

He seemed to notice your resistance, and softened, shaking his head and lacing his hands with yours to keep you stationed,

“Stay for a drink with me, at least,” he offered, but it came out pleading, “We can talk it out…” 

“It’s so late…” you shook your head, knowing that talking alone to Jack would only lead to terrible decisions, and you didn’t have tis the damn season from evermore to relate to yet, so it was basically pointless. 

“What’s your hurry?"

“I’m tired…” you said, knowing you were lying.

“Let’s sit down then,” his voice had taken that silky tone again like a galaxy-turned waterfall, and you cocked your head up to him, 

“Are we really doing this right now?”

“Come on, beautiful… I know you want to…” 

“You’re very pushy, you know…”

You won’t lie, you teased him for a little while, letting him twirl your hair while you pretended not to notice the tent forming in his pajama pants, but you knew how to dig your heels in, and you did. 

He let you go, too, but you couldn't help but feel as though he still hadn’t given up, much like an animal who thrived from hunting down and capturing its prey. 

You were confronted again with the pinstriped gift from laughing Jack, and you opened it, immediately feeling your face go scarlet, despite knowing exactly what to expect. 

A matching lingerie set- beautiful, lacy, and expensive, with a note reading “For my sunshine <3” on top of it. 

You shoved it into your closet and buried your face in your pillow.

Chapter Text

Hi guys happy 2024!!!

Word of warning. every chapter from this one is gonna be chaotic!!!! I've decided to split this fic into different books. Book 1 was worldbuilding and relationship-building, book 2 is CHAOS, DRAMA etc. Hope this makes sense!

LOVE U!!! 

Chapter Text

A winter’s ball.

A catalyst. A gunshot. A swift and sharp push to the downfall you had been anticipating your entire life. 

Tonight was the night the second part of your story began. 

Let’s start with the present:

Your hands twisted around one another as you dodged the scrutinizing gaze of Candypop, despite knowing he had you by the throat. 

“We thought it was where Kagekao kept the extra wine!” you pleaded.

“Let’s say you weren’t a lying brat...” he snarled, and you knew you were already screwed, “Where did you find the key to open the door?”

“It was already open…?” you tried, but you knew it was pointless. 

He had you, defenseless. You were as good as dead. 

“Is that so, Karma…” he threw your nickname at you like a stone, his voice suddenly calm, “because Brian told us that you had come in here to look for cleaning equipment and that Jason had opened the door,” 

You closed your eyes. Fuck. 

…

Okay, record scratch. You’re probably wondering how the hell you ended up in this situation: being interrogated by Candypop at 1 am during the Winter’s Ball. 

Let’s go back to this morning. 

///

The red and black cat had been at the bottom of your bed the second you woke up, purring softly, and you took it as an omen that today was gonna be good. 

It was New Year’s Eve, and you were ready to finally say goodbye to 2014 once and for all. And to make it even better, tonight was the night of the Winter’s ball.

Sure, fuck the admin, but a party? A New Year’s Eve party? You wouldn’t give it up for anything. 

You were on your way downstairs, when a pair of scarred hands reached out of nowhere and tugged you by the waist back into the elevator. 

You smirked softly. You’d know his touch blind by now. 

“Where are you taking me Liu?” you mused as he tugged you toward his bedroom, in a playful urgency he only explained with ‘needing to talk’. 

You sat cross-legged on his bed with him,

“So, now everyone’s off our asses about the Nation speech.. What do we do about our fake relationship?”

Oh shit. You had not considered that. 

Truth be told, pretending to be in a fake relationship with Liu was one of the easiest things you had faced in the past week, so much so, that you forgot to remember how fake it was. 

And sure, you could tell everyone the truth… but you couldn’t deny the sinking in your heart when you considered what it would be like living without his affection. Having Liu Woods, prince among men, act like your boyfriend? It was kind of a gamble you weren’t ready to lose. 

“Well, what do you think?” you asked him, trying not to make it too obvious what you wanted. 

“Well… they’ll probably get even more pissed that we lied to them about this too,” he began,

“I wouldn’t complain about keeping it going… it would definitely get Jack off my case,” you laughed, watching as his forest green eyes narrowed at the mention of Jack. The two of them REALLY didn’t like each other. 

“How could I complain about dating the Operator’s daughter? That would add thousands of points to my social status,” he joked, dodging the playful punch you sent his way. 

“Using me for status Liu Woods? What a social climber,” you mocked, and he shot his hand to his chest, acting playfully offended,

“Like YOU aren’t using me to get back at your demon ex-boyfriend,” he shook his head in mock disappointment, and the two of you laughed, 

“Okay fine, but just so you know this is for baby Liu and his fat crush on me,” you teased, noting how his cheeks burned red, 

“I regret ever telling you that,”

///

At lunchtime, you decided to talk about the letter from your dad.

“We can’t trust the old man,” you stated, passing it around the room, “That’s all we can be sure of,”

“We can’t trust the admin either,” Tim added, and you nodded in his direction. 

But he wasn’t who you were focused on right now. Jeff’s eyes were darting side to side, and you knew you had to get him alone. 

So you waited until all had settled and he was in the kitchen with his fourth cup of tea to pull him about it. 

“What was the key from Andromeda for?”

“What’s it to you?” he shot, turning to face you with a definitive glare. 

“We all agreed no more secrets, and I saw you pocket it on Christmas,” 

You could see him lose an internal battle with himself, and he pulled it from his hoodie pocket before chucking it to you. 

“I was gonna tell everyone later, but what the fuck ever-” he rolled his eyes like you were being overdramatic, “She sent the last key, too- the one that exposed you and my dumbass fuck of a brother,” 

You didn’t respond, and he continued, 

“She’s tryin’ to help us,” he said, so sure of himself that you were a little afraid to even question Andromeda’s integrity. 

That opened a whole new Pandora's box.

This meant she was working AGAINST the admin.

“How do you know we can trust her?” you asked, and for the first time in your life, you saw Jeff Woods stall for words. 

“I…” he gestured with his hands, as though to ask you to fill in the blanks, and you stood there bored, watching him overreact. 

You were NOT in the mood to be discussing Jeff the Killer’s love life right now. 

It had been two fucking minutes, and he was still gesturing. You looked down at Smile, who looked up at you with a ‘this is the shit I deal with every day of my life’ look.

“You’re together?” you asked, and he exploded.

“NO?!” he huffed, “Oh my god, you are so fucking SLOW. No way we’re together,”

Liar, but okay. 
“We’re just in cahoots,” he muttered, turning back round to stir his tea, “Like her…? We don’t even ACT like-”

You closed the kitchen door and let him continue spurting out his lies. 

///

“Kagekao sent us in here for more wine,” Tim spoke, “Ask him if you don’t believe me,”

For a second, he thought he had him, but he should have known better. 

“Funny, Y/N said the same thing… pity I already called bullshit on it,”

…

“You were tryin’ to leak information to the resistance, were n’tcha kid?”

Helen retained a calm composure and shook his head, “I don’t have any connections to the resistance,” 

///

“There’s been an underground resistance breakout,” Tim spoke, tossing his newspaper down onto the coffee table. It was 5 pm. You had 3 hours left before the ball. 

You looked at the headline:

BAND OF THIEVES PRISON BREAK TERRIFIES NATION… more on page 2.

You flipped to page two and scanned the article:

Late last night, December 30th, a group of thieves (pictured right) escaped from maximum security Arcane Prison, after being imprisoned for a recent attempted attack on the Administration building. They had fled due to an inside job led by radical members of the resistance. Suspects Randy Warren (22), Keith Daviss (23), and Troy Green (22), were last seen heading North toward Center Nation. These individuals are highly dangerous, and should you find yourself in their presence, alert authorities immediately. Until then, we advise you to stay indoors unless essential. 

"Hey, we know those guys!” Liu spoke, grabbing the newspaper and showing Jeff, who looked as if disgust had taken over his entire being

“I thought I killed those bastards…” he grumbled, and you could only look to Helen to see if he knew any of them. He only shrugged. 

“Those guys used to bully the hell out of us,” Liu tossed the newspaper back onto the table, “Got me put in juvy when I was a kid,”

You widened your eyes in shock, meeting the gaze of Jane, 

“We all grew up as Nation kids, but they rebelled,” she explained, 

“You knew Liu and Jeff?” you asked. She nodded, but in a way that asked you kindly not to pry. 

“Same neighborhood, those guys were notorious for being meddling assholes,"  Liu filled in.

And now they were on the loose. 

///

“We were literally bei-ng chased,” Toby gestured wildly, “We were drunk, a-all of us, and we were playing tag… we ended u-up in here..!”

Candypop looked at him like he had never heard such bullshit in his entire life

...

“No listen, listen,” Ben was trying to sell,

“Ben there was no damn snake loose in this building!” Candypop seethed, gripping the chair so tight his knuckles turned white, 

“That’s only because we caught it!” Ben tried, “C’mon Candypop, why would I even lie about a snake being loose? See, I’m not afraid of snakes, so I ran in to catch it, cus it ended up in this room,”

Candypop stormed out before his anger turned to bloodthirst. 

///

“You look be-beautiful…” Toby smiled down at you, “Can I walk you d-down the stairs so I can feel accomplished before the N-ew Year?” 

“You look as handsome as ever,” you met his charming tone. You looked stunning, dressed in a fancy silk silver dress, and you felt like you were on your way to a party with the cutest guy in town.

You let him lead the way, and your eyes scanned the room to find your fake boyfriend. You noticed his silver tie, and you were happily gliding toward him until you were caught off guard by Tim, who was staring right at you.

“What…?” you asked him, and he tilted his head, before reaching forward and pulling a tiny piece of fluff from your hair. He walked away before you could respond. 

Okay, you thought, whatever the fuck that was. 

///

The Administration building was beautiful- elegant and fancy- and flooded to the brim with elites in their best clothes and poshest tones. 

But as of tonight, you weren’t just here to party. 

No, you were here, waiting patiently for Jeff’s signal. 

While you showed face, he would look for the room that the key matched, and when he found it, he would come back and collect the rest of you, hoping that the elites and the admin would be too drunk to notice your disappearance. 

So you partied, and you danced your way into the new year, making sure to kiss Liu as the clock struck midnight, and ignore how Jack silently seethed from across the room.  

You couldn't spare yourself from a conversation with the Old Man, who you wanted to wrangle and hold in a headlock until he flatlined, but you held your grace. 

“Looking as delightful as ever, miss Y/N, I shall send my regards to your father,” 

You shot a forced smile, 

“Thank you,”

“I must applaud your recent performance in the nation, too. What a shining candidate you are,”

“Thank you,”

“And-”

“Sorry to swoop in,” Brian shot the old man a smile with the biggest ‘go fuck yourself’ undertones, “But I promised Y/N a dance,” 

And so he steered you away from the most boring conversation to date. 

But you knew what this meant. There was no dance. 

The two of you rushed down through the winding hallways toward the staircase you had decided to meet on, and you kicked off your heels midway so you could run without blisters, still linking arms with Brian and whispering in hushed tones. 

You reached it to find all of them gathered, and ten fingers rushing to ten pairs of lips, urging you both to shut up. 

And it didn't take long for you to understand why. 

“They’re fuckin’ brats,” 

It was Laughing Jack. 

“I mean, I got the pick of the bunch with Y/N, but she’s resistant as hell,”

“You’re doin’ a good job with her,” Candypop said, and the twelve of you felt your bones go cold. 

They had no idea you were just above them right now, eavesdropping. 

“What? Fuckin’ her to get a seat in power? Yeah, I still gotta sink my teeth in more though,”

Okay, so now everyone knew what was going on between the two of you. You watched Liu’s eyes widen in the realization that THAT's where you disappeared off to that night. 

“I’m still followin’ the Old Man’s lead,” Candypop said, “Once we get rid of Slenderman and the other candidates, Y/N will be easier to take down- grief is a powerful poison,” 

They both cackled. 

Your stomach sank. 

The twelve of you stood, almost shell-shocked as you heard them end the conversation and go their separate ways. So that was it then, confirmed. 

they WERE against you. 

“Bastards…” Jeff muttered, “Let’s keep going,” 

The rest of you followed, their words silencing you much more than their presence ever could. 

///

“Did Cody tell you about this?”

“I don’t know anything about Cody,” Ben lied through his teeth, and Candypop gave up with a huff. 

//

“Hey guys!” Cody grinned at you all, the twelve of you immediately flinching. He had turned the corner just as you had been approaching the room, dressed in his usual waiter uniform. 

Thankfully, he did not question anything. 

“Hey man,” Ben smiled at him, clasping his hand to pull into a hug. The two of them shared a brief moment of conversation, and you watched as a friendship you didn't know existed presented itself to you all. 

He soon disappeared to return to the party, and the twelve of you finally reached the room with sighs of relief. 

It was marked with nothing but a sign:

DANGER: X-VIRUS. 

“Be fuckin’ careful in here, Andromeda’s putting her ass on the line for this,” Jeff shot. You realized you hadn’t seen her at all tonight. 

Jack switched on the light as the twelve of you padded into the lab, marveling at it. 

Desks upon desks of chemical substances, test tubes filled with acid, beakers, boiling pots, measuring cylinders, huge sinks, and microscopes with fingerprints beneath them filled the place. You name it, it was there, it was neon and it was dangerous. 

You walked past a series of names scribbled down on a whiteboard, a title reading ‘SLEEP EXPERIMENT PROGRESSION’, and you winced. 

Clockwork had picked up a test tube and was tossing it up and down without a care in the world. 

“Influentia,” she said, rolling it between her fingers. Inside it was a neon green substance, and you cringed slightly at the mere look of it, watching as she set it back down next to a bunch of syringes ready for injection. 

“Guys,” Brian stopped you all suddenly, and you span around. He was standing in front of a filing cabinet. 

At first, you didn't get what he was hinting at.

And then you did. 

Inside it were dozens of files, each one with a different name on it. YOUR names on it. 

This was a gold mine. 

Everyone immediately rushed to grab the file with their own name, and you pulled yours open like searching for oxygen. 

You noticed your fingerprints first, the same ones you had taken on Kagekao’s first class, printed large and annotated with notes. 

You flipped the page. Statistics. All in Candypop’s sluggish handwriting, dating from your first day of training until now. Commentary on your strengths, your weaknesses, your motivations and your mindset, and how to exploit all of them. 

Your stomach flipped as you read. Your left knee was 1.2x weaker than your right. Using a hammer could shatter it whole. 

“Look at this,” Liu murmured, showing you all a page in his file that read ‘LOW TOLERANCE TO MODIFIED ALCOHOL’

“I ha-ave the same,” Toby said, and you flipped to your page that corresponded with theirs. 

You suddenly remembered the night you had that party, and you woke up on Tim’s bathroom floor, feeling like you were about to die. 

“They spiked us…” Brian trailed off, as Ben held up another file which read: DIVERSION.

And sure enough, all the information you needed was right there. Plans to uproot the roads and railway path which dated back to September. 

They caused it. They wanted to coop you up together like animals to slaughter. That's why they did it. 

Clockwork had found a similar file entitled: OPERATION RED MIST, and it didn't take an operator to discover that they had caused that too. At this point, you were wondering if Zalgo even existed. 

“The innocents,” Tim suddenly said, looking at you like all of the dots had just connected in his head and lit up like stars in front of him, “They had to kill the innocents too… that’s why it doesn't make sense,” 

He frantically started to pull out more files, looking for answers which confirmed his suspicions.

But something else happened. 

One of the files turned out to be a switch, because the cabinet began to move.

It was a hidden sliding door. 

“What the fuck…” Ben whistled out, as all of you walked through it, completely silenced in disbelief. 

It led to an enormous, circular room, lit up only by the light of computer screens. Twelve holograms, each with one of your faces on it. Below them, a number that rose with every second you watched it. 

“Donations…” Liu trailed off, “That’s how many bets people have put on us so far…”

You looked at the number below your face. 210,989.

Then you looked at Liu, with 200,873. 

Then Ben, with 180,426. 

You pretended not to notice how Jeff and Helen had barely scraped 5,000. 

“But the trials haven’t even started yet…” Nina shook her head, and you looked up at the multitude of computer screens in front of you, broadcasting different sectors of the nation, your interviews, the speech from you and Liu, and a video of your dad addressing the Nation. 

“This is so fucked up…” You muttered, and before you could even study your reflection on the screens, the room went dark. 

The last thing you saw was the word ‘RUN’ flashing red on every single screen before the sound of Candypop’s marching footsteps slammed into the room. 

//

And here you were. 

As far as the night was currently going, you had no idea what the rest of your housemates had said in response to Candypop’s interrogation, but you knew you had fucked up when you were all gathered together again under Candypop’s order.

Laughing Jack and The Old Man stood at his side. 

“You little fuckers are so dead.” he glowered, immediately grabbing Ben by the scruff of the neck as Laughing Jack reached out to grab a fistful of your hair. 

But you would never find out where they were taking you. 

Because at that very moment, the building exploded. 

Chapter Text

“A winter’s ball?”

“Yup,”

“God, rich kids are so pretentious,”

///

Randy Warren was exhausted, which is funny, considering he spent a lot of his teenage years in a coma. 

Here he was, twenty-two years old, trying to hold a cigarette between his teeth while he focused on loading bullets into handguns. 

He was exhausted for many reasons. 

Exhibit A: He just broke out of jail. 

You want some advice? Don’t go to fucking jail. 

Exhibit B: He was currently about to pull off the biggest heist in the history of the Nation. 

Exhibit C: It was December, and his entire body was jittering with the ice. 

On top of all of that, he was seething with anger, but for Randy, that was nothing new. Since he lost his mom and got saddled with the shittiest dad to ever walk the earth, he practically lived in a city of wrath. 

It didn’t help that the two guys who put him in a coma were now the Nation’s best-selling products.

Liu and Jeff Woods were born and bred under the Nation’s guidelines. Their dad was a businessman who got a promotion and landed them in Randy’s neighborhood. It was a neutral zone when it came to the politics of the nation- one where the people weren’t exactly worshipped, but they weren’t exactly outcasted either. 

For the Nation’s tolerated, so to speak. 

For example, Randy’s dad was a lawyer, which was pretty fucking hypocritical considering the type of man he was, but whatever. 

His dad was a perfect example of why he hated the Nation. 

Randy would watch, every single day, as he smiled and shook the hands of the elites. His entire life was built on a web of lies because every night he would come home, he would drink, and he would take every inch of his malice out on Randy. 

Randy grew up in shitty circumstances. 

His mom, Lucy, was a resistance kid. She spent the majority of her childhood in poverty and fled her small town when she was fifteen years old, hoping to find somewhere that indulged her freedom as much as she did. 

And along her travels, she bumped right into one of the Nation kids- Steven Warren- AKA, Randy’s dad. 

Steven was not always a bitter man. He was once well-behaved and devoid of adventure in his life. 

Lucy was the opposite. 

So they ran away together. Fled the Nation and their bitter laws in the name of love. 

Of course, they were hunted down by those who painted Lucy as a poison to Steven, but eventually, the hunters found bigger prey, and they were finally granted a quiet life. 

They moved out into a small village on the outskirts, filled with bright fruit stalls and kind strangers, and Lucy fell pregnant. 

For the first ten years of Randy’s life, passion exiled power. 

And then Lucy fell sick. 

You want a challenge? Try getting a dying woman help when she’s tarnished with the image of being a resistance kid. You can’t. 

She died in Steven’s arms. 

Grief comes in many ways. 

Steven turned to alcohol. He started dealing drugs and learned how to pack a punch. He shed his being of emotion and pleaded with the courts. He told them that Lucy had misled him, that he was young and stupid, that Randy meant nothing to him, and that he was ready to repent. 

And when they gave him that chance, he bought his way up the corporate ladder. 

So here he was, a lawyer who couldn’t look his own son in the eye. 

Grief came to Randy in the form of vengeance. 

The Nation took his mom from him, as far as he was concerned. And in a sick sort of way, they took his dad too. 

He had nothing to lose, so when he was thirteen, he signed up for the Underground Resistance, and within a week he was climbing the ranks. 

He didn't really give a shit about avenging an exiled leader. He just wanted to avenge his mom. 

That year, he met the Woods family. 

The Woods were a different story in the same series. 

Randy decided he was gonna have a problem with the Woods’ kids the day he met them when he heard the older one talking about his crush on the Operator’s daughter, loud and proud for all the school to hear.

He knew they were ignorant, but talking big about the family of Operators like that? They were asking for it. 

He would watch them with bitterness every day, in their pristine clothes and with their loving parents. He’d watch them parade through his school like they owned the halls.

So he started putting them in their place. He lost his temper and crashed a neighborhood kids’ party in hopes of ending them for good.

But instead, the opposite happened. 

Jeff had landed him in a coma, on the verge of death. 

And instead of getting in trouble, it only got him noticed. 

Randy was a resistance kid, after all, according to his dad and those above him. His life was better when it was gone from his eyes. 

He would watch on hospital cameras and late-night TV as the two Woods brothers held the world in the palms of their hands, while he was forced into a life of suffering. 

But they picked the wrong resistance kid to fuck around with. 

Because here he was now, with guns, grenades, and vengeance lit between his teeth. 

And he was ready to take them all down.

//

“Yo, it’s time,”

Randy snapped his head upward to see one of his two best friends, one of two people who he could actually tolerate. 

Troy Green. 

If Randy Warren was smoking cigarettes and eye rolls, Troy Green was fresh air and wishing on lashes, and had this war been at a different time, Randy knew he would have hated him.

He was big all over, and had brown, fluffy hair and big blue eyes that pierced right into you.

Troy was loud, social, funny, charismatic, and most of all, optimistic about anything and everything. He swore he’d seen the guy angry like, twice in his entire life, which wasn’t a lot for someone who knew how to shoot a gun like it was nothing. 

But he’d seen the slant and the glint in his eyes when he shot a target down- it was a darkness that did not come for free. 

“Ready,” Randy nodded, grabbing his gun and looking over his shoulder for Keith. 

Keith Daviss.

Keith was probably the only good thing about this world. He was over six foot tall and had soft black hair that fell over one of his eyes. Randy thought he looked like a painting you would see hung up in the Louvre that you would commit a heist for.

He was an orphaned resistance kid, and had been tossed out of adoption centers his entire life, until a family took him in and actually saw him for what he was worth. 

“I’m ready,” Keith’s fingers began to rub the knots out of Randy’s shoulders, telling him to loosen up with no words at all. 

So they set off.

///

“You guys wanna play a game?”

“Why the fuck would we wanna play a game, Troy?” Randy spat. 

Walking for hours through fields on a winter afternoon was something Randy was starting to get used to. 

He was no stranger to treks with Keith and Troy. When they were kids, they spent summers catching fireflies and sneaking out past curfew on their bikes, speeding down hillsides and climbing up cliffsides to overlook a city they knew they could never own. 

It was their freedom.

“Hey,” Keith nudged his shoulder as they walked, the grasshoppers around them chirping in rhythm with his heartbeat, “We’re gonna do it this time,”

Keith knew Randy’s mind like the back of his hand, and Randy wished he knew how he did it. He knew his anxious tics, his lying tells, his suppressed smiles- all of it. It was no surprise that he could feel the anxiety radiating off of Randy’s entire body right now. 

“I just don't wanna get caught again… prison was a shithole…” Randy admit. 

“Imagine that,” Keith snorted, ruffling his hair, “We won’t get caught, don’t talk like that… this one's gonna work, I can just feel it… look,”

He gestured toward the Administration building, which had begun to come into view, 

“The ball’s starting right now, they’ll be black-out drunk before they even realize the dynamite’s been lit,”

“LET'S GO LOSERS, IT’S GETTING DARK” Troy called from where he was ahead, now walking backward with his hands behind his head and a gun in his pocket. 

They walked until the sun had disappeared into the abyss, and their coats had been zipped up tight to fight the bitter cold. They had given in and agreed to play games with Troy, and Randy didn’t admit it, but it relaxed him- took him back to ice cream days and firefly nights. 

They talked about their dreams when they reached the foot of the hill. How they ached to see the Nation crumble. 

How they wouldn’t give in until Karma was served. 

Randy scuffed his shoes on the grass and admired the vision in front of him.

The Admin building: lit up and dressed in silvers for winter.

The three of them stood a few hundred feet outside of it, at the bottom of an old hillside. They had got further than they did last time, which did wonders for Randy’s nerves. 

They barely even made it to the hill when they heard police sirens, and they were chased down and thrown in cells…

Randy rubbed his eyes, trying not to think about it. 

Keith shushed Troy, who let out a low whistle at the sight of the party in front of them: the fireworks, the talking, the dancing rich kids in the ballroom- things they couldn’t even dream of experiencing. 

“Shut the fuck up, there they are,” Randy muttered, tugging both of them closer and pointing up to one of the windows. 

And sure enough, there you were.

They saw the twelve of you patter down the hallway, stuck in a conversation with Cody and checking over your shoulders every few seconds. 

He briefly thought about Liu Woods and how he got the girl of his dreams, then scowled at how undeserved it was. 

“Let’s move,” Keith whispered again, and he snapped into motion. 

They had a plan. Three separate ways. Three lives on the line. Twenty-one bombs, divided among them. 

If one of them got caught, they would all go down for re-offense. Execution would not be a foreign concept.

Randy gulped. 

“See you on the other side,” Troy grinned as if it were nothing at all. He saluted the two of them before disappearing toward the basement. 

Two men left. Two hearts. Two pairs of eyes: one blue, one green, staring into the others. 

Keith grabbed Randy’s shoulders.

“Good luck,” he said, like the words hurt to say. 

Randy could only nod. 

“I’ll see you in half an hour,” 

Randy nodded again. 

“You leave first,”

Randy shook his head,

“No, I leave last,”  he forced out, and the words hurt like a bitch, “You go now, please…”

Keith only pursed his lips,

“Let me have this one thing,”

Randy wanted to say he would let Keith have anything, but he figured it wasn't the moment. 

So he nodded one last time, and headed straight into the building. 

Thirty seconds later, no sooner, Keith followed. 

And that’s when the building exploded. 

Chapter Text

“Enjoy the show!”

These were the only three words you could hear, played on a haunting and robotic loop so clear you couldn’t differentiate whether you were hallucinating or not. Your eyes were shut. Your mind was rapid, fight or flight begging to kick in and get you the fuck out, but you were limp. 

You tried to figure things out with your limited knowledge and numbed senses. You were moving. That, you knew. You were on a podium, or some sort of old fashioned open elevator, being lowered into the ground, and it was creaking with every square inch you covered on the way down. 

Your lips were dry, and the coolness of the floor beneath you was a saving grace, because it brought your consciousness to you like a parting gift. 

You had been out cold, that’s right… from the explosion.

The explosion…

Memories began to flash and echo in your brain. Laughing Jack, grabbing your arm. Liu, jumping up to pry him from you. 

Everything going black. 

And now you were here.

Where exactly here was, you had no idea. As far as you were concerned, you were dead, and you were being lowered into purgatory for judgement. 

If this was purgatory, you didn’t want to know hell. 

There was a low hum that gave you something to focus on and complemented the thumping in your chest like a metronome, and if you hadn't been so sure you were in oblivion, you’d have thought it was the hum of a boiler. 

This feeling of nothingness lasted all of a minute, before red and silver sparks took over, and you stopped. 

This was the moment you found yourself able to open your eyes.

It was blurred, and fuzzy, and nothing short of a dream-like vision. A large warehouse-like room stretched wide in front of you, complete with leaking pipes and groaning walls. 

And you were alone. 

You immediately thought of the others. Where were they?

You blinked again, the thoughts and worries of them dissipating as an intense, blinding light shone in your face, waking you up from your comatose-like state. 

The last thing you saw was a girl. Her stitched up mouth and straw-like hair did nothing to ease your confusion or soothe your terrors. Nor did the scientist who stood next to her, holding a serum-filled syringe. 

You squinted, taking so much energy to do so, that you failed to notice a similar syringe, piercing into your own neck.

And everything went black again.

////////

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself in another location. Calling it a room would be an understatement, but it was a far cry off a building. 

The first thing you noticed was that you were filled with adrenaline you thought you had long since forgotten how to feel. Your eyes did not squint, rather blinked quickly, and your muscles felt brand new, like they had been repaired in the night and restored twice as strong. 

You were ready for anything- a sprint, a fight, a challenge. Anything they had to throw at you. You were ready. 

But then you noticed the stench. It was an old, damp carpet-like smell, as though the place had not been polished up in centuries. Your hands flew over your mouth to shield them from the dust particles and moist walls, and you forced yourself to choke back a cough in fear it would spark an entire fit, and therefore slow you down.

Holy shit, what was this place?

It was no easier on the eyes. The colour of the walls, the floors, the air, was an old mono-yellow- the colour of something you would only see in dreams of standstill and stalemate. The fluorescent lights above you did not help, and suddenly, you began to feel suffocated by both the smell and the sight. 

The low hum was still rumbling beneath the ground, and you used all of your focus to zone in on that. It kept you standing, at least. 

What the fuck was going on? What WAS this place?

You began to move, opting for the opinion that doing something was better than doing nothing at all. You had to get the hell out of here and find your housemates. 

There were no doors, only openings which led to more eerie, empty space- no different to the next. It was a maze of yellows, heat, and humming. 

And god, were you thirsty. 

You needed water. Where could you get water?

You rubbed your eyes, trying to dull out the oncoming headache that was coming with the lights in your eyes, and that's when you realized.

You were wearing your training uniform. 

You had not been wearing that earlier. You had been wearing a dress. And your hair had been loose around your shoulders, not tied up like it was right now. 

You had been dressed up for this. This was not by happenstance. This was not the fallout of the explosion.

This was the beginning of the trials. 

///

In a single jail cell off the West Coast of the Nation, the Operator sat with slumped shoulders and a dull headache, no bench or glory to pride himself with. 

They had his daughter, and his name, both under siege. 

According to the Admin, which in his humble opinion were the lowest of the low, the trials had been down to plan. The twelve of you had been prepared for this day, and had plunged into the tasks willingly and desperately, itching to prove yourselves and entertain the nation. 

According to them, the twelve of you had free will in the situation, and had he been a gullible man, he’d have bought it. 

But this was Slenderman, and he was nothing if he was not wise, so he knew they were lying.  

He knew it was false. He knew the twelve of you had not been willing to please the nation for months now. 

And if he wasn’t as wise, he would have known by the way he was seized and thrown into prison the second the explosion happened. He was locked up and beaten, black and blue, before the overhead helicopters could even report a casualty. 

The Admin were keeping the story under wraps to all but those in their inner circle, but he knew as well as ever what that meant, both for you and him. 

But as it has been his entire life, he did not care much for his own health. It was all for you, in the beginning, in the end, and here, right in the middle. 

So he took the beatings. He kept his mouth (metaphorical) tight shut and let them lash him until blood was all he could see. Did not give into one claim that the two of you had been communicating, did not admit one fact about you that could be held against you. 

He knew that the resistance had simultaneously saved and messed up any chance of safety and protection you would have again. He knew that the trials were only starting early to keep you all locked where they wanted you until they could find a better alternative, and he knew that they were showing the twelve of you how tight their nooses on you could really be. 

He knew a great deal more, but for the sake of the story, let’s refrain from spoiling. 

But despite all this heavy knowledge and newfound gashes, all he could fixate on was the heaviness of his heart.

You, his pride, his joy, his light in life- were afraid. He knew it by the way your eyes darted around the room, dubbed ‘THE LOBBY’ by the gamemakers. He was given a small screen to watch the trials on as a form of punishment, and seeing you trapped in there with not a weapon to fend with was worse than any blade or scar on his skin. 

He believed in you, above anything. He knew you could do it, knew you had enough people behind you to guarantee your survival, but seeing his little girl so frightened was like a shot to the heart. 

So he sat in his cell, silenced, for once not worrying what the past nor future had to offer him. His mind only spanned for you, and his heart was breaking into crevices at the sight of you.

But he knew as well as anything that he could not change the timeline, and it was for the better. 

So he just watched. 

///

You felt like you had been walking in circles for hours, searching for something to take down. 

But it was only you. Maddeningly, it was only you.

You thought about the others. Were they here?

No , they couldn't be. You would have found one of them by now if they were. 

You had spent the first five minutes on your feet, calling their names and pushing your way through the maze of open spaces and hums, before you concluded it was futile, and calling only served to take away saliva from your mouth and give you shame in return. A useless transaction. 

It was then you realized that Jason had been telling the truth all along. Back in the kitchen felt like decades ago, when he let slip that you would be competing in different trials. It made you wonder what else you and Tim had known all along. 

You forced yourself not to think of Tim, or any of the others, in fear it would make the pit in your chest widen more. 

You focused on walking forward, whilst your mind retraced your steps that brought you here.

You were at the Winter's ball. The building exploded. Then, you were here. 

You knew logically that the Admin did it on purpose: started the trials to distract the Nation from their building exploding. 

Clever, but evil. 

God, you were so thirsty. 

You walked until the dizziness of dehydration and the teasing smirk of madness swept you off of your feet. It had felt like days since you first came here, although logically, it was impossible. 

You sat down in one of the corners, hands in your hair as you tried desperately to create some saliva in your mouth and swallow before you started suffocating. For a place with nothing but open space, it was fucking hot. 

You began to recite things that you knew to yourself, like a mantra in your head, and you weren’t surprised when you heard them in your dad’s voice, like a lightning rod of comfort in this tragedy. 

You were in the trials.

They were testing you.

You were on TV right now. 

Everything would be fine. 

You recited them over and over again until semblance won the battle in your head, and you climbed back onto your feet. 

In front of you, behind you, and all around you, were only peeling, yellow walls and a sick feeling that something was watching you. 

This was gonna be a long night. 

///

The Nation was in beguilement. 

Tonight was the night they had been waiting for all year. 

The trials! The very definition of entertainment, available tonight on their TV screens! Could you believe it?

All of this time spent buying and selling merchandise, making posters and donating sponsors, aching to catch even a GLIMPSE of one of the twelve in the public eye to wish you luck. All of it was over! 

Parties- loud, rowdy celebrations that robbed vicinities of sleep had sparked all around the Nation. A National Holiday had been called for this day and this day only, because what was more important than tuning in to watch Splendorman’s opening ceremony???

Actually taking account of the fact you were watching twelve kids fight for survival for your own selfish entertainment? Hell no! 

Firework shows had begun- loud, exploding lights of reds and blues and greens, collapsing in the stars for all of them to see. Bars and Wine-sellers had been giving out free champagne on the house, as a gift from the Elites to their beloved Nation.

All day long had been an endless festivity, but now was where the show really began. 

News stations had directed all of their focus to the event, TV shows were cancelled in honor of the mandatory, and everyone- mothers, fathers, children, friends, couples- were silent- crowding around their TV screens and holding their breath, ready to take in every single detail like their lives depended on it. 

9PM struck, and on the dot, the five Admin and the Old Man stood proud on Splendorman’s stage, dressed to the nines and waving to the crowds. 

The opening ceremony was two hours long, and the first consisted of running through each candidate, their interview, their statistics, and how likely they were to win their allocated trial. Splendorman, of course, was the only guy for the job. He talked animatedly about each of them, praising them and practically begging the audiences to show them support as though they were children of his own. 

At 10P.M, a small interview with two of the gamemakers- known only by their alias’ as Lost Silver and Glitchy Red- took place. The two of them were absolute geniuses, legends in the coding world, and created each of the locations with immaculate detail and with their chosen candidate in mind. 

At 10:30PM, a final talk-show-esque chat with the Admin occurred. 

There was the Old Man, who had just recently been promoted to the Nation’s co-director, sitting proudly in a suit, a tight-lipped smile on his face. There was Jason, who was as solemn as ever, with that same old far off look in his eye and a penchant for only nodding or shaking his head when he was asked a question.

There was Kagekao, who did a great job in riling up the audience, wearing his own t-shirt which read ‘VOTE FOR BEN AND JANE’, and had the entire Nation cracking up with his jokes throughout. 

There was, of course, Laughing Jack, who sat tall and proper in a monochrome suit and spoke about you like you weren’t a thorn in his side and he wasn’t the best damn liar the Nation had ever seen. He weaved tales of how you had been itching to show the law that a Monarchy was the only answer, and other pointless bullshit lies that you’d never say. 

Then there was Candypop, who sat in the middle and spoke most- mostly of how excited he was for the Nation to see all of their hard work, and how eager he was to meet his future Operator. 

Again, a liar. 

Then, for once in her life looking downcast and dull, sat Andromeda. 

You heard legends of Andromeda. You knew she strutted onto stages and played a crowd like a violin. You knew she planned every detail of every outfit meticulously, leaving hints and secret messages through imagery and accessory. 

The rest of the Nation knew this too. 

They had expected her, in all her glamour, to sway onto the stage with her Hollywood smile and melodic laugh. Girls in colleges and schools all around the world had gossiped all week, trying to guess the color of the gown she would wear. 

Pink, her signature favourite? A mix of reds and tans, to complement her candidates? Yellows, blues, greens? Would it be tulle? Silk? Velvet? And oh, her makeup! Would she wear glitter on her eyes? What shade of lipstick? Would her nails have jewels on them? Would she wear diamonds on her face? Would her HAIR be curled as it always was? 

Gossip filled the Nation all week, and the bets of Andromeda’s outfit had almost become as rife as those on the future Operator. 

So when her name had been called to introduce her, hundreds of thousands of fans held their breaths. 

And gasps filled the world when they saw her. 

She had come out, for the first time in her entire career, in all white. Her blonde hair fell naturally down her back, as though she had done nothing but combed it.

She wore a sleeveless dress which fell to the floor in tiers, no detail or design for the world to inspect. A blank canvas. 

Except for one thing.

Pinned to her chest was a metallic symbol- an O with an X through it. 

A metallic symbol, but one that could hold the weight of the world. 

For the first time in her life, the colorful, charismatic Andromeda was plain. And if that didn’t send a message, she didn’t know what the hell would. 

“And miss Andromeda! Look at you my LADY!” Splendorman cooed, twirling her, but doing nothing to ease her nerves for the nights ahead.

She sat on the sofa, hands neat on her lap- and kept her mouth shut. 

But if she had said it was all intentional, she’d be lying. 

Sure, her silence was planned, but it wasn’t hard to do, when her mind was running circles around her, shooting memories of the past few months at her like bullets.

///

“You’re going to get yourself KILLED!” 

“Well MAYBE I don’t give a fuck!” he shouted, his temper like a bomb in her hands. 

“Jeff, PLEASE- I am begging you to give a fuck,” her words sharpened and pointed. 

“Why?! Why do you want me to give a fuck? They’re gonna fuckin’ kill me anyways-” he deflected

“Because I give a fuck, and don’t- don’t look at me like that, like it’s unjustified, you know it isn’t… you know what’s going on here is-”

“Andy…” he said, his voice wavering but final, but she was gone before he could say anything else.

////

“You think Smile has a favourite?” she asked him from where the two of them were sitting, drinking some tea together. Tea was her kryptonite, so you can imagine the look on her face when he made it exactly how she liked. 

“If you think you’re his favourite you must be fucking delusional,” he rolled his eyes.

“Oh really? C’mere Smile!”

She laughed, a real laugh, a giggle- like she was nothing but a girl- as the dog hopped off of his lap and onto hers. 

///

“Oh so you do have a heart?” she feigned shock, a pink-painted hand over her chest as she watched him flip her off in response. 

“Don’t get smart with me,”

“It’s not hard to get smart with you, considering you have nothing in your head-”

She laughed again as he playfully threw a pillow in her face. 

///

“You think that they’d kill me if they saw us doing this?” he murmured into her. The two of them had spent the night together, laying in each others arms as though the ways of the world were not put in place just to spite them,

“I’m pretty sure your fans would kill me first,” she laughed, and he leaned down again for another kiss. 

///

“Andromeda,”

Her name on his lips.

“Andromeda,” 

The way he would call for her.

“Andromeda!”

She snapped out of her trance to find the five other Admin, Splendorman, and pretty much the entire world focusing on her. Suddenly, she was back in the room- cameras and flashes clicking at every angle. 

And oh, shit, she hadn’t heard a word. 

“I’m sorry… Could you repeat the question?”

“I asked you what you thought about the fact that Jeff has the least amount of sponsors for the trials,”

///

The first night of the trials was a success, to sell you the understatement of the year. Phone lines from all over maxxed out with donors, aching to pitch their support to their favorite candidate- the future THEY wanted to see. 

From the moment they began until the moment the show ended for the night, the world went quiet. 

Statistics flashed onto the screen before they began, showing your name and your status percentages: health, sanity, hunger, and thirst. 

Splendorman delivered the show with all of the charisma and cheer in the world, standing tall with a microphone in hand.

And it was a breakthrough all over.

////

MAKI ROLL <3 @HOMOCIDALMAKI

         l OH SHIT I’M SO EXCITED FOR THIS

ROXIE  @USER443

        l I’m so confused who are these people they’re fighting?

CHAPPELLE  @hotterthanu4eva

        l Why does the girl Clockwork’s fighting look like the girl who went missing two weeks ago??? Am i the only one seeing this???

                 [this tweet has been deleted]

VOTE FOR BEN @POOHBEAR101

            | Guys if you dont give ben all of ur sponsors i fucking mean it i will hunt you down. 

ASHLEY   @BRRRVVVVRRRRR

        | These opponents look familiar??? Who tf are they 

          This tweet has been deleted. 

VOTE BRIAN OR ELSE @takemehommeee

         | OH FUCK THIS BITCH GOT BRIAN SO GOOD

TOBYS WIFE @ticcimollie

         | IS TOBYS LEG BROKEN??? WHAT TF IS GOIN ONNNNN

IN MY TRIALS ERA @liuswifexox

       | How does Liu look so hot fighting this guy??? 

AVERY @celestialkarma

       | Karma and this girl need to hurry up and start beating the fuck out of each other im boreddd 

////

It took you forty five minutes, which felt like an eternity in your mind, to realize you were not alone. 

Part of you considered it as a side effect to the paranoia you had fallen victim to after the first hour in there. 

But then you found proof. 

Proof in the form of straw-like hair and a thud that was undoubtedly a footstep. 

Someone was definitely here. 

So you took off, wiping the sweat from your forehead and discarding your thirst, swinging around openings and sprinting through rooms for something, for anything, but this. 

You were of course, Y/N, which meant you had her cornered in minutes. 

You recognised her immediately as the girl you had seen go under injection just before you blacked out. Dark, soulless holes for eyes and a stitched up mouth. Her skin was paper white, and had you not seen her move, you would have mistaken her for… a scarecrow. 

And then it hit you. 

You were right. 

You fucking knew it. 

Your theory. The theory that you were being made to fight Zalgo’s underlings in here. 

It was right. 

“Scarecrow…?” you asked her, just to confirm what you already would have bet your life on, your voice dry and croaky. 

She only smirked, and stepped toward you, he paper-like skin gleaming in the fluorescent light. 

“Y/N…" she purred almost, tilting her head, " It's good to finally meet you…” 

//

“A cliffhanger held over the Nation’s heads! Their beloved Karma, cornered by the evil, wretched war criminal Scarecrow!.. What’ll happen next?! Tune in tomorrow night to find out! Goodnight everybody!” Splendorman announced. 

And with that, the opening ceremony to the Trials had officially ended, concluded with the final statistics of each of the candidates.

///

END OF DAY STATS

Y/N:  100% health, 96% hunger, 45% thirst

LIU: 90% health, 94% hunger, 99% thirst 

BEN: 88% health, 100% hunger, 100% thirst 

CLOCKWORK: 95% health, 55% hunger, 60% thirst 

BRIAN: 80% health, 90% hunger, 70% thirst 

TOBY: 55% health, 89% hunger, 60% thirst 

TIM: 98% health, 95% hunger, 90% thirst 

JANE: 100% health, 75% hunger, 80% thirst 

NINA: 90% health, 80% hunger, 70% thirst 

JACK: 100% health, 90% hunger, 99% thirst 

JEFF: 100% health, 70% hunger, 60% thirst
HELEN: 65% health, 68% hunger, 70% thirst 

Chapter Text

Start of day stats

Y/N:  75% health, 80% hunger, 30% thirst

LIU: 90% health, 89% hunger, 99% thirst 

BEN: 69% health, 100% hunger, 100% thirst 

CLOCKWORK: 93% health, 50% hunger, 50% thirst 

BRIAN: 72% health, 80% hunger, 65% thirst 

TOBY: 35% health, 60% hunger, 70% thirst 

TIM: 70% health, 80% hunger, 70% thirst 

JANE: 99% health, 99% hunger, 75% thirst 

NINA: 85% health, 78% hunger, 67% thirst 

JACK: 70% health, 98% hunger, 99% thirst 

JEFF: 94% health, 50% hunger, 55% thirst
HELEN: 40% health, 50% hunger, 50% thirst

“GOOD MORNING AND WELCOME TO DAY TWO OF THE OFFICIAL OPERATOR TRIALS!!!”

If the premiere was a success, then day two was a breakthrough. 

Of course, this was helped by the erasure of the fear of the trials being a total shitshow. Truth be told, the Elites and the Admin held their breaths as they watched the public’s eyes first widen at the sight of the trials yesterday. 

I mean, there was always a fear of disappointment. There had been some criticisms on the way that the candidates were battling individual enemies in different levels, rather than taking each other on and battling to a gruesome death for the champion. And had the Underground not been a thorn in their sides this past year, that would have gone ahead, and the future operator would have been crowned in the next week. 

But of course, things went astray, so cracks had to be filled with different plans. Nothing major. 

There was also the tiny, miniscule chance that the audiences would suddenly revel. That the recent uprising of the Resistance would get to their heads, and they’d see the show for what it was. To aid this fear, security measures had been pre-empted to prepare for this very scenario. Each of the admin had a shotgun beneath their seats, in case of the crowd becoming violent or suddenly speaking their minds. 

You can imagine the relief on their faces when everyone burst into applause and cheers the moment the opening intro began to play. 

Since then, the past twenty-four hours have been revolutionary for the culture. Famous brands were endorsing each of the admin by the minute, job opportunities were presenting themselves around every corner they passed, and it seemed as though all of these months with their backs to the wall had finally, finally paid off. 

The candidates, however, were still very much trapped against that metaphorical wall, and with each step the Admin took, the constraints around them seemed to fasten tighter.

Tonight, the program opened on Liu.

///

Liu had been gifted level 1. 

To the mindless citizens watching, the rank of their level meant nothing. They were so blindsided by the purity and the goodness the admin had sold them to dare question anything on their platter. 

But to everyone else, who had refused to refute their critical thinking skills in the name of blind worship, this meant everything. 

There were twelve levels, each created and allocated to the candidates depending on one factor and one factor only: 

How much their lives were worth. 

Of course, they were rigged. You really think the Admin, being who they were, wouldnt rig the games? Come on. 

The entire elitist academy was in on it, too. Each level had been created by game makers to pose different threats to you all in differing intensities, and it just so happened that their two crowned favorites had the two easiest levels. 

Liu, for example, had clipped into a warehouse- with nothing but concrete floors and condensation dripping from each and every crack and crevice. Flickering, fluorescent lights, and a curious fog were about the worst thing in there, which in comparison to some of the higher levels, was like spawning into a castle. 

Even still, Liu was on edge. 

He knew he wasn’t safe, and deduced he was in the trials before even taking a step forward. He knew it by the clicking of the surveillance cameras around him. 

He also knew he wasn't alone in there. 

He knew it by the splashes in the puddles and the shadows on the walls that stretched and moved each time he blinked. 

And he knew that, whatever it was, he had to fight it. 

Call him naive, call him optimistic, but he knew what being injected with adrenaline felt like. 

So when his hands began to shake with an ache to destroy, he knew it had been from the injection stuck into him before he got here. 

And he would have acted upon it out of nothing but the desire to scratch an itch that was beginning to burn, but he had something much more important to do. 

He was looking for you. 

He was holding you before this happened. If they had teleported him somewhere, surely you would be with him, right? Wasn’t that how it worked? They couldn’t separate you- not after all of the marketing that they'd done to keep you together. Separating you would be useless, wouldnt it?

These emotions clawed at his chest, but his mind refused to give up the reigns. 

Logically, he knew, at the back of his head, that he was alone in here. 

But still, he called for you. 

The first time he saw a shadow, he spun around and chased after it, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it would know where to find you. 

The second time he saw the shadow, he ran in the opposite direction.

He didn't need to see all of its teeth to know it was bloodthirsty. 

He managed to find a crate filled with weapons, which he wielded to his chest. Of course, clinging to hope at this stage was getting futile, but he grabbed a pair of shears, just in case he found you, and you were weaponless.

God, what if you were weaponless?

///

“Looks like one-half of our lovebirds is missing Y/N!” Splendorman cooed, gesturing toward the huge projected screen, serving as a backdrop to his late-night live show. 

The audience let out an overly appropriate chorus of ‘aww’s, and some even started to cry tears of joy, at how in love the two of you were. 

Sure enough, there was Liu, dirt on his face and screaming your name, terrified out of his mind at the endless possibilities happening to you. 

“Well, yearning is destruction’s blade…” Candypop muttered through gritted teeth, watching the show from where he sat next to Splendorman’s stage. 

“Liu is a soldier,” the old man was selling him to the crowds whilst recording an audio message for local radio stations, urging their listeners to sponsor his star candidate, “He leads with his mind and his heart, two essential criteria for ruling the world,” 

In seconds, telephones began to ring, and money was gathered to send Liu some of the newest high-tech technology- a portable shower head that functioned on the go. 

///

“Should we check on Miss Karma?!” Splendorman announced, earning a grand level of cheers and squeals from the crowd. 

He switched the cameras, and your face came to fruition. 

It had been a rough night, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to panic about the fact you had already been here a day and had made virtually no progress. You had had no sleep, nothing except for harsh remarks from Scarecrow and your desperate attempts to ward her off until you at least got a drink. 

It took six more hours before your prayers were answered. 

You had managed to outrun her once again. It seemed as though she worked through a system- whereby she seemed to stay at bay once you shook her off. You had practically collapsed against the wall, heaving and trying desperately to form saliva to swallow, but all you got was another inhale of the dust-infected hot air that filled the rooms around you. 

Your head was in your hands as you thought and fought against looking weak for the cameras. You knew they were tracking your every move. 

You thought about the others again and wondered if they were just as exhausted. And sure, you had prepared yourself to be in a competitive mindset- one which separated housemates from opponents, but how could you?

How could you suddenly leap into motion, into a fight, when you had spent the last two hours uncovering the secrets about the world with them at your side? How could you stand up and compete against them when they were the only truths you knew?

You couldn't. You couldn't help but worry about them and pray to a god you didn’t believe in for their safety. Fuck what the rules said. 

And then, distracting you from your stupor like a mirage, a latch came undone inside one of the walls, and out came a tray of water and a small meal made up of basic proteins. 

Your stomach grumbled in desperation. 

And for these few minutes, you forgot about the cameras. You fell to your knees- a princess of power- in front of the jug of water, and did not even bother to pour it into the cup provided for you. 

Holding the jug to your lips, you let the water spill down the sides of your cheeks and seep into the carpet beneath you. Soon, your hair was wet, your face was wet, and your clothes were wet. 

It was the best damn drink of water you ever had. 

Until you heard someone clear their throat. 

“Ya know I could kill you right now?” Scarecrow almost seethed, balling her fists at her side.

And she could. Your scissors, which you had found in one of the chests located in the corner of one of the rooms, were out of reach to you right now. You had abandoned them for the sake of quelling your thirst. 

She could literally kill you right now. Oh shit. 

“You’re making yourself such an easy target, Y/N,” she growled, as you wiped away what remained of the water from your lips. 

“You wanna try?” you, who had just been revitalized, stood to your feet and furrowed your eyebrows, “Cus all I’ve seen you do is run away from me the second my hands touch you, so no, I don’t think I AM an easy target,” you growled. You were fucking sick of these games. 

She looked as though she was fighting an internal battle with herself. 

“Go on,” you chided, crossing your arms and walking toward her. Sure, you didn't know the girl, but you had a lot of built-up anger at the world and an insatiable need to see your housemates again, so you weren’t complaining about a fight. Plus, whatever had been injected into you had given you an abundance of energy you needed to burn,

“I’ll even let you throw the first punch,” you offered like it was a gift, holding your hands up at either side, “Don’t be shy,”

You could tell something was bothering her by the way she hesitated. 

You, who loved to twist the knife, only continued taunting her, 

“Why don’t you kill me?” you mused, picking up your scissors from the ground and wielding them in your fingers. If the audience wanted a show, then fuck it- they'd get the most gory one of all time, with a main character whose heart had turned to stone.

“Go on Scarecrow, kill me,” you clicked your tongue, but she refused to move. 

You froze a little, your true, harmless personality fading in and out of the conversation. 

“Why won’t you kill me?” you asked her, tilting your head at the way she still refused to move. 

"I can't, Y/N..."

"Why?!" Call you stir-crazy, call it cabin fever, but you were so fucking close to your limit, and her vague answers were not helping. 

"I just can't!" she huffed, acting like you were the one being irrational here. But seriously? You were offering her the first punch, and she was fucking refusing? What was her deal?

"That's not an answer," you snapped, slowly pulling yourself to your feet, "I'll give you one more chance or I swear to God I won't hesitate..." 

You don't know where all of the rage was coming from, but you knew the injection had something to do with it. 

"Fine!" She huffed, taking a step back from your feral-like stance, "I can't fucking kill you because I was ORDERED to keep you alive."

///

“Hey Mom, why did the stream cut out?”

Far away in the center of the nation sat the Williams family. A happy house, for the most part. No different to the house next door or the house next to that. Wealthy, hard-working, conservative. Praised by the elites as being a ‘typical all-nation nuclear family’. 

They had a mother, a father, and sitting in front of the TV with eager eyes that held no burden, a daughter, named Sally.

Sally Williams was eight. She did what she was told. She loved her family, and tea parties, and the trials because it meant she got to stay up late and eat pizza past bedtime. 

She was obsessed with them: how they were battling it out every night to one day rule the world! Sally wished she could be there, fighting and showing off her skills too. She wished, more than anything else, to be a candidate in the trials- to spend her days in the Nation, shopping and laughing with her friends... to have crowds cheering her name...

They were living the dream. 

She had seen them before on TV when they were doing their interviews, and while she couldn't understand much of what was going on, she knew she liked them enough to ask her mom very kindly to drive her to her nearest toy store and buy her the brand new Karma doll that was selling out faster than any toy this decade.

Since then, she had gathered a LOT of stuff. A Karma doll, a Jane the Killer doll, an orange hoodie that she wore just to be like Hoodie, a fake hatchet she had for Ticci Toby, and a cuddly toy in the shape of BEN. 

And then, just when things couldn't have got any better, she actually SAW Y/N- yep! The real-life Y/N!- make her speech with Liu, just a few weeks back. 

She remembered every detail- her mother's arms, their cheers, Karma’s dress, Liu’s suit, the way they held hands and smiled like they'd never been so happy, thinking about how beautiful Y/N looked. She remembered when it ended, and how the crowd had scooped her up and cheered with her.

She had some pretty good days, but that one knocked them all out of the park. 

And since then, she had spent days and nights pretending she was there too, partying and laughing with them. By the time the trials began, each of the candidates had starred in her very own tea party interviews, which were of course, the highest honor given to any. 

She interviewed an imaginary Karma, who told her all of her stories about Liu and how they were going to rule the world together. She interviewed an imaginary Eyeless Jack, who ruffled her hair and told her all about what it was like in the famous mansion where they stayed. She interviewed an imaginary Nina the Killer, who let her keep one of her super cool bracelets forever.

She interviewed them all… except for Jeff. 

Talking about Jeff wasn’t allowed. Sally didn’t know why, because he was a candidate just like the others, but her mother had warned her that if she ever said his name aloud in the house again, there would be serious consequences. 

Sally didn’t wanna know what that meant. 

So she worked the system. She focused all of her support on Y/N and Liu, knowing that her family did the same. When she clapped for them or said something about wanting them to win, she’d always get something like an extra cookie or a pat on the head from a kind stranger. 

So here she was tonight, working the system again. She was eating a pepperoni pizza and snuggling up to her mom. Of course, she had no idea why the girl with the long black hair was fighting Karma, all she knew was that she wanted Karma to win. 

But just as it looked like their fight was about to start, the screen cut to Ticci Toby. 

“Sally, sweetheart,” her mother quickly soothed, a hand over her eyes, “Don’t watch this part…”
 

///

Toby Rogers could not feel pain.

This was an urgent note that came with him to every doctor’s office (and there were many) he visited throughout his youth. Appointments and emergencies were always led with ‘I can’t feel anything’ and received with a sense of intrigue and an intense force of action to work on the injury in fear of hidden infection. 

And while it had come like a leper’s bell to professionals all his life, it was not something the Admin took into account. 

And he didn't question their indifference until now. 

He had spawned into a cave system with no light but a few gleaming rays of sunshine above him, that shone through only in particular angles of his periphery. Around him were jagged, sharp angles and edges that would have sent the typical person into a state of taking clever care of every breath they took to avoid being stabbed.

But as we have established, Toby was not a typical person. 

And so he had slipped, down a landslide of razor-edged rock, his leg smashing and crashing against each edge, trying and failing to grab corners and edges, and landed at the bottom, completely immobile. 

Of course, he felt the blood seep through his clothes the moment he stopped thrashing, but the lack of light at the bottom of the cave did nothing to help him gauge the damage that had been done. 

The viewers, who had access to a green light that showed activity in the dark, were horrified. How the hell was he not screaming with pain?

There he lay, his leg twisted in inhumane directions and bloodied beyond control, staring down at it with a squint and a curious expression, like waiting for it to suddenly take flight. 

He tried to move it and failed, and by the feeling of the misshapen bone beneath his hands, he could tell it was fucked. 

Any hope he had of finding his way out of there was destroyed. Any chance he had in beating whatever the fuck he had to fight was gone. 

What Toby could not feel in pain, he made up for twice in wrath. 

Because there he lay, out of bounds in the dark and the cold, and no one was doing a damn thing to help. 

His anger bubbled over. He hated the admin, hated everything they stood for and the lies they’d dressed up and sold. Hated that they were watching in luxury as he and his friends fought themselves to death. 

“I-is this what you fuckers WANT?!” he shouted, his voice cracking with wrath and disgust and the feeling of being rendered useless when it mattered most, “I… I can’t fucking fight…!” 

And with every passing minute, he couldn't have been more sure of the fact he was being left for dead.

He couldn't fucking believe it. All his life- all of that studying, and forcing his brain to listen to him, all of that effort and brushing off criticisms and harvesting belief that maybe, just MAYBE he was right about himself. That maybe everyone else was wrong about him. 

All of it was for nothing.

For a moment, he thought of his friends, and how he wanted them to escape whatever prison they’d been allocated. How he wanted them to know no suffering. How he would fucking miss them. 

And you, Y/N.

He had worked up what little confidence and courage he had to kiss you under the mistletoe. He had used his abundance of intelligence to work his way into your nightly routines and make you laugh with his perfectly timed jokes. 

After everything- his discovery of what it felt like to have a crush- a real-life crush that made his palms sweat and heart race and veins tingle. A crush that made him feel, when all he had known was numbness. 

After wasting most of his life thinking he was nothing. After you, proving him wrong, just with your time. 

And now he couldn't even say goodbye to you. 

All of it was laughable, really, and he threw his head back to cackle at the reality of it all. 

His entire life he had a crutch. He’d been one step behind his peers, due to disability or overarching trauma no one else knew; that held him in shackles and forced him to bear witness to his stationary stance in life. 

And now, the moment he thought he was free. The moment he had the world watching them, daring them to question him- daring them to underestimate his talent and intellect and ability. 

The moment he wielded twin hatchets and cleared his throat, ready to tell the world who Toby Rogers really was…

He had gotten his leg demolished. 

Always something holding him back, wasn't there? 

If there was a god, Toby swore he was sorry for whatever he did in a past life. 

“Y-ou bastards…” he croaked out in the direction of a nearby security camera, picking up a stone and chucking it at the lens. It ricocheted right back off, as though mocking him for his destructibility. 

He knew his voice was wobbling, and he shut his eyes and scratched his neck, trying to drown out the oncoming panic like a baby. He could feel scar tissue form and wounds open, and soon, his fingernails were stained with his blood once again, but he did nothing to fix it. 

And then he winced. 

Not out of feeling, out of fear. 

His breathing shallowed, and soon, he felt like he was dying. 

Toby had grown up with panic attacks. He couldn't remember a time when he didn't have them, to tell you the truth. Whether it was over his fucking stepdad, or grades, or bullies, or his sister, a panic attack was always the aftermath of something terrible, like a grim reaper coming to take what calmness he had left in him, and leave him to rot. 

The older he got, the less they had come. He had known gratitude like no other for this, especially considering these were the most important years of his life, and he didn't want anyone to know that he had more weakness than he pretended. 

How fucking fortunate, he thought, that they come back when I need them least. 

The attack lasted until his head lolled forward and he felt himself fall into a deep sleep. 

The silver lining was that when he woke up, he felt a lot more hopeful than he did when he went out, as though something had been pumped into his veins that gave him reason to fight. 

He was strong. He had his hatchets with him. He had found them in one of the chests before embarking into the cave system. He knew that he could hit a target from where he was. 

And then, something bloomed in his chest. A fleeting thought that he grabbed by the throat on its way out and forced it to stay. 

He couldn't feel pain. 

He couldn't feel pain.

“Is this what you wanted, you fu-ckers?” he seethed, using both hands to grab his leg- one fastening at his thigh, the other at his calf. 

And he snapped it. 

A crack ricocheted and echoed off cave walls so loudly it made everyone in Splendorman’s studio and the audience gag. 

He felt where the leg had bent, and grimaced to himself when he realized that it was still fucked, but at least the bone had moved. 

He looked straight at the lens facing him and continued to process, cracking and snapping his bone back into place and feeling grateful for the echo of the cave chambers, which amplified each and every split and snap. He only stopped when he knew it was in place well enough to let him stand on both feet again, and grinned maniacally at the response he KNEW would be waiting for him back home. 

///

Candypop stood in the broadcasting room, his mouth agape and face pale as he watched the boy completely dismember his leg and put it back together like it meant nothing at all.

He knew these candidates were a threat, but holy fuck… 

“Don't show any of that,” he warned the camera crew, before making his way back out onto Splendorman’s livestream stage and choking back the bile that rose in his throat at the sound of the snapping bone. 
 

///

By the end of day two, the internet had completely exploded, and the sponsor phone lines had maxed out.
 

TLA <3 @thelostanon

         l 100% send my sponsors to either ben or liu 

Juggalo Barbie <3 @JuggaloBarbie

         | 1000% give my sponsors to Tim, wtf he's so hot <3

UnknownDJ36 <3 @unknowndj36

         | Giving my sponsors to Ben and Clockwork!!!!

Nikako <3 @nikako

         | I'LL SEND ALL MY SPONSORS TO BEN OFC HE'S MY EVERYTHING

nikako <3 @nikako

         | Ben's stats? Don't you dare die on me, Benny boy 😭😭

Judging by the endless sponsors, it was safe to say favorites were being acknowledged, and asses were being saved. 

//

But for the twelve of you, it didn’t feel like much. 

By day three, the Nation was still in their joyous little delusion, which started with fireworks and ended with chanting the names of those they wanted to ‘hurry up and die’, 

Festive, I know. 

Despite their continuous period of celebration, they were in limbo, because the most eventful thing that had occurred in the past twenty-four hours was that Clockwork knocked out her opponent for a total of twenty-five minutes. 

Truth be told, things were starting to get… boring. 

The cameras opted to dart between the twelve of you, almost trying to capture something worth reporting on. Even Splendorman was clutching at strings, hands on his hips, and resorting to jokes about the situation you had found yourselves in. 

The Admin were pissed. How pitiful of you all to not make your suffering entertaining. 

And the opponents. The opponents, captured from the Underworld themselves and held hostage to take you down to finally get the war started, were fucking useless.

Laughing Jack watched, hands white around his clipboard, as Scarecrow once again, picked up her pace and started to run AWAY from you. If he knew any better, he’d have said she was stalling for time to avoid having to kill you. 

Nonetheless, he had trained you into a pretty good little puppet, because you had taken off after her with scissors in your hand and a glimmer in your eye which threatened revenge. 

But the chase was up when you grew dizzy from never-ending bends in the walls and blinding yellow lights and opted to sit down for a while to get back your energy. 

Groans of disappointment sounded throughout the Nation as their hope for you to win was diminished by your need to rest, and soon, they were back in limbo again. 

And just when Splendorman was about to fold up the chairs and call it a night, something happened. 

///

“AND THAT’S HOODIE COMING OUT IN FIRST PLACE!!!” 

Splendorman’s voice was an outburst, and sure enough, every screen on the Nation had lit up. 

They watched as the cameras replayed the scene: Brian smashing his opponent over and over again with both fists until he was nothing but a bloody body waiting to be disposed of. 

The Nation, for one, was in shock. 

Gamblers, for another, were outraged at such an outcome. For such a dark horse to come first when the odds were so, terribly low. The mere action of Brian walking out of there before the rest of you had just put a lot of people in debt.

Of course, this meant nothing to him. 

All he could focus on was staying upright and not bleeding out himself.

You were chugging down some of the leftover water when you heard it, in a robotic voice over an intercom:

‘First place secured!” 

You had no idea who it was, but you knew someone had escaped their personalized hell and you silently closed your eyes and said a solemn prayer of gratitude that someone was free. 

“Well done Brian,” The Old man congratulated, meeting him at the exit of his level pristine and poised and sickening, “Are you ready to meet some fans? They're all waiting for you!” 

Brian did not speak. He did not want to speak. 

He had just killed a man. 

He was a murderer. 

And everyone was cheering his name. 

END OF DAY 3 STATS

Y/N:  87% health, 100% hunger, 100% thirst

LIU: 90% health, 100% hunger, 100% thirst 

BEN: 55% health, 70% hunger, 80% thirst 

CLOCKWORK: 80% health, 78% hunger, 88% thirst 

BRIAN: CLEAR

TOBY: 30% health, 80% hunger, 90% thirst 

TIM: 65% health, 85% hunger, 80% thirst 

JANE: 60% health, 70% hunger, 80% thirst 

NINA: 75% health, 73% hunger, 60% thirst 

JACK: 68% health, 100% hunger, 97% thirst 

JEFF: 75% health, 80% hunger, 70% thirst
HELEN: 35% health, 45% hunger,40% thirst

Chapter Text

Brian Thomas was an overachiever.

The very second his mother, Ellen, fell pregnant, the bricks that paved his road to greatness began to take shape. His name had been the gold that lined the streets: an old, Celtic name that meant ‘high and noble’. His status had been the breeze in the air: the first-born of a wealthy family of scholars. 

This road to greatness led straight to an empire with his name in lights, and Brian had taken his first steps at nine months old. 

He was well-raised and well-behaved in a fancy suburban house, right in the center of the nation where all the elites could fawn over him, and where his family could keep him in line and teach him his worth.

By the age of six, he knew manners like he knew times tables, and by the age of twelve, he could write dissertations on the importance of conducting oneself in the Nation. Prim and proper sat on his shoulders in place of an angel and devil, and whispered tips and tricks to keep him in his family’s good books all day long. 

When he was enrolled in a private school at thirteen, he climbed both the social ladder and the educational ranks, with trophies and medals to prove it. Brian Thomas was nothing short of a genius in the making. 

But then his brother got involved. 

Brady Thomas was born when Brian was six years old, rehearsing table etiquette and rhyming off multiples of seven. 

For the first few years of his life, Brian and Brady were as different, as distant, as they came. Brian had little time for a baby brother, at the grand, sparkling age of six years old. He had even less time for him at the devastating age of twelve. 

Brady, however, had minutes to burn for Brian. 

He would follow him to his room and beg to play with him. He would talk about his day and hope Brian would ask him questions. He would perform and learn and walk tall in Brian’s shadow, just for a shot at being seen. 

He never was. 

Pressure was an invisible guest in the Thomas household; a ghost that only Brian could see.

He would watch Brady catch ladybugs and forget his homework and spend his days in front of the TV, and feel a cruel stab of pain at the fact he never got to do that. 

Brian was the heir to their throne. Brady was not.

This meant that, whilst Brian painted his face and dressed up like a stone-hearted scholar, Brady could count eyelashes and sing and love like he had nothing to prove and no one to fail. 

And Brian hated him. 

He had never questioned his life until Brady showed up. It was natural for him to constantly assess and be assessed on his strengths and weaknesses. It was natural for him to refrain from asking questions, from expressing himself in an attempt to prioritize what mattered most: success. 

He knew he should never complain. He knew he was born into incredible luck, and all of these responsibilities were given to him because he could take them and run laps with them on his shoulders. 

His entire life, he had mastered the art of survival with nothing but an obedient nod.

And then he saw his baby brother master the art of living, and he hated it. 

The pressure held him by the throat and forced him to bear witness to his brother, dancing with freedom. 

So at thirteen, he began to crack.

Beneath his calculator brain and rock-solid intellect, Brian was soft. Love and affection coursed through his veins, and he spent years injecting himself with ink and pretending it had always been there, but it was lies. All of it. 

He didn’t care about his parents’ empire. He didn't care about numeracy or technological skills. He cared to love, and he cared to be loved in return, and that was just about it. 

And don’t get me wrong, he knew he was loved. He knew it since the day he was born. His parents adored him. He had been their gift, their treasure trove, their golden boy. Everyone knew it. 

But he wondered how it felt to just be. 

So the resentment began to mummify his teenage dreams and beating heart, and because he was not strong enough to confront the system just yet, he took it out on Brady in the worst punishment of all: ignorance. 

Brian became drunk on it. 

He masked his tender smiles and gentle heart and began to train physically on top of all his schoolwork. He harnessed the ways of a handgun by morning, and the skills of a hacker by night. He had no motive, no final destination, only an innate knowing that one day something would make all of this worth it. 

Something - a war, a business opportunity- anything, would make the sacrifice of his compassion and docile spirit worth it. 

And when he was twenty-four, the Operator trials were announced, and Brian knew that this was it. 

A chance for him to rule the Nation. The very place that molded him into the heartless man that he was. An opportunity to prove himself like no other. He posted his application the second they were released. 

He was accepted within twenty-four hours. 

And it wasn’t until the night before the opening ceremony, did things change. 

Three knocks on his bedroom door. 

“Can I talk to you?”

Brian felt sick with years of regret, but kept his mask on tight. There was no use in letting his guard down for Brady now, not after years of treating him the way that he did. 

“Sure,” Brian nodded like it meant nothing at all. 

“I’m going to miss you…”

Brady Thomas, eighteen years old with a heart of absolute gold. 

And Brian loved him to death, so much so, that he couldn’t say a word. 

“I know you can win it,” 

He had never stopped being kind, not once. 

“I know you’re nervous…”

Brian was focusing on the texture of his hoodie, the same one Brady had bought him a few months ago, because ‘orange was his favorite colour’. Another act of wasted kindness. 

Brady never once let Brian's sharpness slice him open. He had clung to rare moments of light, where the two of them shared a knowing, brotherly glance, or found common ground to laugh on or talk. It was as if Brady saw right through Brian and his selfless act of malice. 

Brady never doubted Brian for one second. He had watched his brother, every hour of every day since he was old enough to do it. He would watch him try hard for everything he did, and then succeed twice as much. He would watch as he applied himself to every opportunity. He would watch as he hit targets with bullets and shut down systems with his bare hands. He would watch as universities begged him to consider them, and his parents, as they stood back and watched.

But that wasn’t why he loved him. 

Brady admired Brian, sure- who didn’t?

But Brady loved his brother. 

His brother, who cooked for him every day when his parents worked. His brother, who borrowed stories from libraries and left them outside his bedroom door at night. His brother, who did not punish him when he cried. His brother who taught him that intelligence meant nothing if you didn't have the grace to go with it. 

One day, Brian would teach people from all over the Nation how to live, and Brady couldn’t have been luckier to be the first. 

“I’ll be fine,” Brian nodded to him, droplets of water from the shower dripping from his hair and onto his pajama pants. 

He was nervous, very clearly, and he cringed at the fact that Brady could tell. He had spent his entire life keeping collected so his brother would live in awe of him, and just when he needed it most, he lost his cool. 

Truth be told, he wanted a fresh start. 

He had always been quiet, and that silence was often mistaken for arrogance when paired with his mask of ignorance. He spent so long hiding his heart in a cage made of bone, and it was beginning to suffocate him. 

If he was going to rule the world, he was going to do it right. 

But living without a mask gave people free rein to judge you based on who you were, not who you pretended to be. It was vulnerable, and it was terrifying. 

Letting your heart take charge and loving with the knowledge that consequences were waiting around every corner? That was more terrifying than accidentally shooting yourself with your own handgun.

Which is why Brian’s admiration for Brady never ran out.

Sure, he was intelligent with numbers and systems, but he was nothing compared to Brady. 

Brady taught Brian more than any professor ever could, just by being him. 

“You know I’m putting all my bets on you, no pressure,”

Brian wanted to tell him he didn’t feel it one bit. 

“And I know you can do it,” he affirmed, “But I just want you to try your best… If you win, I’ll be in the front row, cheering your name, and if you lose, I’ll be in the front row, cheering your name- nothing's gonna stop that, okay?”

For the first time in his life, Brian listened and nodded, and believed. 

So the second he emerged from his trial, shell-shocked and like a feral cat being dragged from an alley, he knew exactly where to look. 

And there was Brady, front row, cheering his name, just like he promised. 

And suddenly, the lights were no longer blinding. 

////

“Shit! Signal’s down again…”

“Maybe cus you won’t stop MOVING,”

“It’s because of this shitty house, NOT my moving,”

“Sure whatever you say, all I’m saying is that when I was holding it, the signal didn’t even lose a bar,”

“YOU hold it then,”

“I’M holding the snacks, hurry up!”

“They aren’t even gonna show him,”

“Yeah but look at Y/N,”

Zoe rolled her eyes. She’d been looking at Y/N her entire life. The girl seriously needed to get off her tits for once. 

But she couldn’t avoid you. How could anyone, when you were all the rage, all the time? Splendorman was there, blabbering on about how amazing you were doing, and it sickened her right to her core. 

She swore to the skies that if you came second place, she’d-

“ZOE, oh my god stop MOVING.”

Oh, she was so done.

“You hold it then!” she hissed, shoving the phone into Jonathan’s hands and snatching the popcorn he was holding into her own. 

The two of them were huddled in the corner of a cold refuge center, watching the trials on her shitty broken Samsung with water trapped in the charging port. 

They’d been kicked out of their last house two days ago by the Nation’s ‘control team’, which was a fancy way of saying ‘supremacist’. While everyone was preoccupied with the trials, the resistance kids were being tossed out of their houses and forced into shitty refuge centers.

For the greater good, of course. 

Apparently, the resistance’s new political party had agreed to it, but judging by the deaths on the streets and the remnants of grenades on sidewalks, she knew better than to believe that bullshit. 

The resistance party had been idiots to think they had a voice in this one-sided war. Since their leader rebelled all those years ago, they had been the targets, and until a new leader rose and took back their dignity, they always would be. 

The exiled leader was right, as far as she was concerned. His banishment was unjust, and the punishing of them and their ancestors was only fuel to the bonfire of disaster the elites of the nation had been fanning for centuries now. 

She knew a war was on the brink again, and if the nation’s people weren’t so blind, they’d know it too. It was more than obvious what would happen. 

The Nation’s elites would blame Zalgo, and wage a war against him and his underworld. Then, the resistance kids would be blamed for ‘joining him’, and accused of being his underlings, and then executed in the favour of justice. 

History always repeats itself. Zoe knew better than to challenge that. 

But it was all bullshit. As far as she was concerned, Zalgo didn’t even exist. He was nothing but a scapegoat for them to direct their blame at whilst they bombed the resistance kids. It only made sense. How coincidental for a war to begin the second the resistance began to rise. 

And with her imminent death on the horizon, she knew it was better to shield her eyes from what little sunlight shone through. 

So can you blame her, really, for hating you as she did? When all of her misfortune fell on the hands of your ancestors, and she was forced to watch you live the life she was robbed of? In a blissful symphony with your servants and your dad, while she was left to rot?

And sure, maybe you were a nice girl deep down. Helen sure seemed to think so, with his secret glances and longing stares, but she wasn’t as forgiving as her best friend. 

“Zoe, LOOK,” Jonathan said again, nudging into her, and her eyes turned to the screen just in time. 

“Oh god no…” she groaned, watching as you began to run.

///

You were running. 

Whoever that scarecrow girl was and whatever she stood for were questions you were postponing until the second you got out of here, because as far as you were concerned, she had just saved your life. 

Since the loud pinging sound and accompanying voiceover had alerted you to the gratifying acknowledgment that someone was free, you had come closer and closer to the second-hand acceptance that it meant you did not win.

And for everything you did not win, your dad suffered more. 

‘As long as you are safe, so am I' he had told you.

You were not safe. 

And nothing had motivated you more to get the fuck out of there.

She had been ordered not to kill you, and it didn't take a genius for you to assume the admin had done it on purpose. You and Liu had likely been given levels on easy mode to ensure your survival, and it made you livid.

It was rigged. And okay, you were pissed. 

But when it came down to it, right now, you were grateful.

For you? It wasn't fair, and you were filled with fury. But for your dad? You’d rig anything.

So when she gave you clear pointers on finding your way out, you didn't even blink before taking off. 

In seconds, you had reached a panel- a yellow-ing outline that made a square illuminate a little brighter than the rest of the wall, as though it were a panel in a cartoon to act as a major clue for the narrative. 

It was no bigger than a crawlspace, no smaller than a tunnel, and right in the corner was a hinge. 

It was a door. 

You had never been as confused as you were at this moment. For two days, you had been circling this labyrinth and had found nothing to reap for it but hysteria and thirst. And now, right now, you were looking your escape in the eye, in the form of a door bridging this world and yours. 

But now was not the time for questions. 

You wasted no time in tearing it open and throwing yourself into it, not looking back for one second.

Chapter Text

“AND THAT'S Y/N, COMING IN AT SECOND PLACE!”

The Nation was like Versailles on the fourth of July.

Screams blasted off into the sky, and cheers ricocheted on the grounds. The entire earth seemed to rattle and crack and light up, just for you. 

And out you came: a victor in hell’s grasp.

Everything you saw was spinning with color. So many colors you hadn't seen in days. So many colors that you were beginning to forget. 

And none of them were yellow. 

It was reds and blues, lighting up TVs as you saw your reflection on the screens. It was pink and green in the grass and in the crowds. It was orange and purple in drinks and firelight. 

And then, just like a robber in the night, it was black and white. 

Laughing Jack’s hands were on your shoulders, shoving you toward the stage without so much as a congratulations. 

“Don’t forget your role,” he snarled, and before you knew it, you were holding tight to Splendorman’s hand. 

And in the absence of reality, you suddenly forgot how to act. 

You tried and failed to straighten your shoulders and let him drag you onto center stage, shaking like a leaf. 

And if it hadn't been for the scrutinizing gaze of the old man from the stands, and the clear absence of your dad, you might have fallen to your knees.

But you remembered then, that it was all a game. And right now, you were forced to play as a pawn.

“SECOND PLACE!” Splendorman announced, holding your hand up in the air just as he had done after you finished your interview. Same place, same time. 

You watched as the audience erupted- tiny sparks of light and color dancing and singing for you, and like a spectator in a sports festival, you stood there in awe. 

And so you fought your way through a debrief of the trial: what you thought of it? How you managed to evade the evil and malicious Scarecrow? How you managed to find the exit? How did it feel to come second place? 

“Who won?” you rasped, eyes wide. You had been so caught up in escaping you had not stopped to consider who had preceded you. 

The crowd fell silent in anticipation. Would you rage with anger at the prospect of losing to such an unworthy opponent? Would you congratulate him for his lucky fluke? They were on the edge of their seats, practically begging for you to lift them of their cursed curiosity. 

“Why, Brian did!” Splendorman cut through the air, his voice as cheerful as ever.

And suddenly, nothing mattered but that. 

Brian had come first place. 

Not Liu, like they had been expecting. Not Ben, who had been the Nation’s favorite. 

Brian Thomas.

You knew by the way Splendorman had answered- in a clipped sentence that offered no room for questions- that the win was not according to the grand plan of the Elites. You knew Brian had broken the mold, all on his own. 

“Where is he now?” you asked, suddenly rising from the armchair. You felt as though you were on autopilot, with no greater destination than something real, “Can I see him? I need to see him, I-”

“What’s this?!” Splendorman announced, more to the crowd than to you, “Don’t tell me you’re moving on from Liu ALREADY Y/N! My my, you naughty candidate!” 

You knew he was joking, but you were in no mood to laugh. Their ignorance fell on deaf ears. 

“I need to see him,” you repeated, not managing to notice how his facade seemed to slip into something pitiful when you did. In seconds, he wrapped the interview up, and you practically ran off the stage in desperation to get the fuck out of there

But oh, if only it had been that easy.

“You really think you’re gonna see ANY of them again, you fuckin’ brat?” Laughing Jack snarled, appearing out of seemingly nowhere, and gripping you by the arm. Before you could do so much as protest, he clamped a hand over your mouth and dragged you, thrashing and kicking, out one of the backdoors, and shoved you into the back of a truck with tinted window panes. 

You weren’t an easy rider.

Whatever adrenaline had been left from the trials was now coursing through your blood and manifesting through punching, biting, screaming, and doing whatever you could to get his claws off of you. You were like a wild cat, refusing to be tamed. 

Every second that went by without an answer was like a stab to your chest. What if you never saw them again? What if this was it? What if Brian was killed for disrupting their plan? Oh my god, you couldn’t breathe. 

“Where is he?!” you sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks because this wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. You didn’t know where you were or where you were going. You didn’t know if they were going to kill you or your friends. You didn’t know anything, except for the fact you were alone, and in danger, and oh my god, where was your dad?

All of the panic set in at once like a wrecking ball on your heart, sending it shattering into thousands of pieces and scattering at every edge of the truck.

Your years of training to become a warrior outlasted your years of training to become a ruler, and all of a sudden, you had Laughing Jack pinned down by the throat, both of your hands wrapped tight around it with a far-off look in your eyes that made his heart sink in fear. 

And like a mantra or a prayer that kept you afloat from drowning in insanity, you heard your dad’s voice saying ‘Do not yield’. 

“Where are you taking me?!” You demanded him, slamming his body down onto the seats of the truck again. You were so done with him and his commands and his lashes and his scars. You wanted him dead. 

He was wrestling with you, trying to pry you off. The driver was nonchalant to it all, but you caught his curious glancing once or twice in the mirror. 

Typical day in the office then. 

“YOU FUCKING CRAZY BITCH.” he howled, voice strained as you smacked the back of his head off the window, and had they not been bulletproof, you knew it would have smashed. 

You continued your hits, not noticing his hands, moving to his sides. 

And oh shit, he had a gun.

“I’m taking you where you belong, you fucking psycho.” he hissed. 

He was choosing the wrong girl tonight, you meant it. 

In seconds, you had detonated the gun like a bomb. It was against his temple, and you were not afraid to pull the trigger.

“If you so much as touch that trigger sunshine, I swear to Zalgo that your dad will be dead before the bullet even hits my brain,” 

Your hesitation was all he needed to get you down. 

///

You woke up in a prison cell, with a pounding headache kicking at every corner of your mind. The thin material of your training uniform did nothing to fight off the ice-cold temperature of the cell floor, and even the touch of it made your bones ache. 

You were lost, and god, where did you even start?

First off, Brian could be in a cell too, but you knew better than to call his name. Not when there were surveillance cameras at every angle. 

Second of all, the others were likely still in their trials. You shut your eyes and wished on grey walls that they’d escape soon. At least in prison, the only enemy was isolation. 

You thought about them, clinging to strands of memories like hope.

Ben, and his stars and his jokes. Liu and his laugh and his hands. Tim and his eye-rolls and arrogance. Toby and his heart and his hugs. Jane and her care and her crushes. Clockwork and her restless fingers and swear words. Nina and her color and her sing-song voice. Jeff and his dog and his bitterness. Brian and his success and well-mannered speak. 

And Jack.

Call you crazy, but you found yourself clinging to that a little longer than the others. 

Jack was the last real thing you had ever known, and his last memory of you would be you brushing him off in fear of the admin hurting you again. Even with Liu, part of it was tarnished by the Admin and their eyes. Jack was the first thing that was yours, only yours and no one else's. And you had given it up for the fucking rules. 

All of that only to be hurt anyway. How futile, how pointless. 

You had done all you could to please them. You had forced your heart from your chest and warned it to stop beating for him, and it had listened. You had given up the one damn thing you wanted for yourself, and you bled and held a straight face and forced yourself to feel nothing at all.

And they still managed to take more. 

But it still wasn't enough. 

And it never would be. 

You thought about your motivation, and how you had fanned it into a small light, then brandished it into a wildfire that shone only to light up your dad’s dreams. 

And oh god, your dad.

The thought of him and his warmth only served to make the jail cell colder and smaller, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like just a kid- lost and alone. 

Where was he right now? Was he safe? Was it enough, to come in second place? Did that buy him more time for the life he was being stripped of? Did it do anything at all?

The thoughts got darker within seconds.

Was he still alive?

Tears began to spill, but you were too exhausted to even feel like you had been frozen between a rock and a horrible time.

They had him. Either way, either outcome, they had him, and he wasn’t safe. 

They had him, and you couldn’t do anything about it. 

And sure, in the long run, you wanted to rewrite the city and tear it apart from the inside just to rebuild it for him, but right now, you just wanted to know where he was. 

You felt your cheeks grow flushed as your breathing began to pace, and soon, you were hyperventilating. The past few days had caught up to you, and you were reaping the trauma of it. You rocked, back and forth, trying to find something, anything to cling to to calm you down. 

Oh my god, what if he was dead? What if they tortured him? What if it was because of you?

You wretched, coughing and choking and losing your hands in your hair at the torturous mental images your mind was conjuring up right now. You felt as if you were dying. You felt the world spin and shake and all your power and control slip like sand from your hands. 

And then you heard it. 

Footsteps.

From down the hall, pacing back and forth like a metronome and slowly bringing you back down to the ground. 

Thump, thump, thump 

They paced, over and over again, and you clung. You clung to every step like a lifeline, and you focused and you breathed and you shut your eyes until your heart retired from harassing your throat, and your limbs fell solemn from shaking. 

//

“Come here, my child,” 

You were on his lap in seconds, your head on his chest.

Beat, beat, beat.

The pain was lesser. 

“Where does it hurt?”

“My leg…”

Beat, beat, beat. 

You weren’t a natural rider. 

You had toppled off your bike and scraped your knee, and your dad had found you half-lying in a bush, screaming bloody murder and waging war against the brambles.

His little warrior.

So he scooped you up and held you, his long fingers brushing your hair away from your teary eyes, his long arms encompassing you tight against his chest.

And the world slowed down. 

The speed of it all had stopped. The fear, the blood, the stinging pain that made you feel as though everything was about to go white and disappear, had gone. 

And all you could focus on was his heartbeat.

Beat, beat, beat.

And after all of the crying and the panic, you fell asleep, and suddenly, everything was okay again. 

///

The current Opeator was getting sick of his cell. 

The only entertainment came from the door opening every so often, letting him know of the arrival of another war criminal. Of course, the cells were voice-monitored, meaning no voices could be detected from the inside-out, and uttering a word would be classed as an unforgivable offense, with the state of things right now, so he had no way of telling who exactly was being brought in. 

All he knew was that he wasn’t alone in here. 

They had switched off his television today, a punishment for another crime he likely did not commit. 

To keep himself sane, he had started to pace.

Back and forth, up and down, the same metronome-like footsteps that managed to fall in line with his heartbeat. 

Beat, beat, beat.

Thump thump, thump. 

He could hear the echo of them around the prison, and that was enough to keep him grounded; enough to tell him he was still here, and until they intervened, he was still winning.

///

“Where is she?! Y/N!” 

“Y/N?! Let GO of me-!”

Liu’s voice was like the draw of a sword, and paparazzi cameras hounded him like dragons ready to blaze.

He was tossed into a cell before he could complete his interview because whatever adrenaline had been left in HIS body had seeped into his heart and sent it into overdrive. But of course, the nation couldn’t help but LOVE the way he shrieked and sobbed for you. 

///

Scarecrow had arrived back.

“You let her get away?”

“I did, sir,” she nodded, obedient and sharp.

“Excellent work," he crooned, and she let out a sigh of relief. 

Chapter Text

"All candidates secured!” 

It had been six days, and that little robotic voice had just marked the end of their reign. 

Six days of steel doors creaking and slamming. Six days of rations, barely enough to keep you conscious. Six days of sobbing, of almost tearing your heart out in clumps, of wondering who was left in there, and if any of you weren’t making it out alive. 

And now, finally, it was over. 

You had come to a lot of conclusions in these six days. The first being that you were hungry. 

Sure, you were starving toward the road of insanity. You had been living on scraps of meat and cold potatoes twice a day, and your stomach had taken to screaming in desperation. 

But this… this was a different kind of starving. 

This was a starving for vengeance. 

Sure, you had wanted to win the trials. You had done all you could to escape, to secure the safety of your dad. Little naive Y/N, finally pulling her weight in bright hopes for a future of comfort and bliss. 

But you knew now that that wasn’t enough anymore. 

Winning the trials unscathed and living out the good life with your dad was a distant dream that sounded like an old fairytale- unachievable and baseless- with every draining, wretched hour. 

Attempting was easy, escaping was harder. 

Thinking about the future was futile now. Thinking about survival was the only thing you needed to think about. If you wanted to get out of here, you needed to put everything- every ounce of effort you had- into escaping their iron grip on your throat.

And that was harder than any trial could be.

But you were ready. 

You stayed huddled in the corner of your cell for the last two days, not looking any of the wardens in the eye or speaking a word. Your mind was working overtime- burning a pit of passion and desire to end them all in the center of your abdomen.

You remembered everything: training sessions when you were eight, when you were twelve. Lessons on the Nation, lessons on your brilliance.

You remembered your housemates and all of the events that came after them. The red mist, the murder of the innocent, the war. 

You remembered the power of your ancestors. 

You remembered the power of your dynasty. 

And there, in that pitch-black hellscape, you found bravado. 

And you knew that you were waging a war on the ice-cold concrete of your jail cell, but they’d be sorry they ever messed with you again. 

///

“FINISHING LAST, THE BLOODY PAINTER!”

Zoe’s sobs could not be contained, even by those who held her and caressed her cheeks with whispers and soothes. They're telling her it'll be okay, that he'll be okay, but it falls on ears only open to hearing how badly the Nation would suffer for this; that they were going to get it, that they were going to be sorry that they messed with them. Jonathan sat alone, off to one side, face pale and words absolved from his lips. 

They, and the rest of their bunker, were forced to watch as their brother, their best friend, their only hope, was carried out of his arena by two men in hazmat suits, covered in blood and drenched in sweat. 

Four days ago, they had been seized from their previous base and tossed in here with the other kids deemed threats to the Nation. They had been stuck in the same clothes for three whole days, and given nothing but rations to share among them. It was originally a shock they were given a TV screen to watch the trials, but upon recent events of tonight's broadcast, it was evident this was just another ploy to keep them in line. Another reminder of their inadequacy. Another reminder of their weakness. 

The eyes of the other resistance kids watered and widened as they watched Helen’s limp body fade from the screen. They had all known him for the quiet boy who had given up his life for their greater good. They had all known his sacrifice. 

For the first time since they moved in, total silence filled the bunker. 

///

Nothing happened until everything did. 

Your cell door was yanked open, the scraping metal and harsh footsteps tearing you from your almost-slumber, and an old, 1980s-style TV, was wheeled in front of you. 

The door was bolted again before you could even muster up the energy to lift your head, but the sound of the news presenter made it snap upward almost instantly. 

There was Splendorman, alone in front of a broadcaster booth, and for once with no crowds surrounding him. 

You guessed this was the review. 

“Let’s just recap our THRILLING week, shall we ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary friends?!” he glimmered in the front of your periphery, and you groaned, shuffling forward to make out the screen. You knew you had to listen up for this. 

“Now, as we all know, all twelve candidates succeeded in their trials!” he chirped, and you felt a swan-dive of relief inside of you. 

No one was dead. 

“But only a FEW managed to get outta there without scratches!” 

Your eyes widened. 

“Now, before we do a play-by-play, let's recap the order!”

“In first place, as we all know, came HOODIE!” He almost cheered, as a short video of Brian played- showing him exiting his trial, shaking and devoid of any emotion. Your stomach sank as you watched the usual level-headed, kind face you had come to know sink and blink, and do nothing more. The clip was only five seconds, but it was enough for the rage inside of you to fester even deeper.

“Next, of course, came our beloved Y/N, who found an escape with such INTELLECT, a genius- through and through!” 

And there you were, on stage and squinting at the bright lights. A three-second clip of a moment you’d never forget. 

You watched as Liu came next, and felt tears prick in the corners of your eyes when you saw how devastated he looked. 

In fourth place came Ben, which seemed to excite the majority of them. In fifth, came Clockwork, then Tim, then Jane. In eighth came Jack, his mouth covered in blood and curled into a smirk that told you he was satisfied with his trial. In ninth came Nina, her hair undone and limbs shaking. 

Jeff came tenth, but to your surprise, his review was not accompanied by a clip. There was no explanation for it, and Splendorman regarded the situation as though normal. You knew better. 

Eleventh was Toby, who limped out of his arena with a leg so demolished it made you gag, and hooded eyes that told you he was on his final shreds of semblance. Your heart sank, and tears leaked from your eyes as you watched Splendorman commend him on his courage. 

And last was Helen. 

You let out a mix between a cry of anguish and rage, fists squeezed and eyes shut. Of course he came last. Of fucking course he did. They rigged it. They probably put him in there with blood-sniffing sharks and open wounds for them to hunt. 

“Now, Helen is expected to make a full recovery sometime soon, so not to worry!” 

These were the only words Splendorman said. No run-through of his trial. No video to accommodate him, just like Jeff. 

Just that. That he had come last, and he needed recovery. 

The TV turned off. You threw your head in your hands, and you sobbed with rage. God, they were going to get it. 

///

Randy Warren was fucking done with this shit. 

He wants you to imagine a scenario. Indulge him, so to speak, just to get a glimpse of what was going on in his life right now. 

Imagine this. You had just escaped the Administration building after pulling the grandest, most successful arsonist heist of the century. The entire building- in smithereens, all down to your hand. 

Imagine you get home, both of your best friends by your side and untouched by the rubble, and you see that the trials have immediately been implemented to distract the world from your handiwork. 

Imagine not getting questioned, not even being suspected. Getting away, clean slate and pen sharp. 

Now imagine the look on everyone's faces when the three of you open the doors of the newest bunker you had been allocated to. People who thought you were batshit, people who believed you were mindless. Imagine standing there, crazy, but genius, in the face of the Resistance who once looked down on you. 

Now imagine how things changed. How you climbed the ranks and gained respect. Rumors turned praises and averted gazes turned nods of acknowledgement. Imagine how you crawled to the top of the food chain overnight; becoming the most notorious, most feared- resistance memebr in the entire bunker. 

Now imagine the grip of a Nation Guard, tight like cuffs around your arms as he dragged you from one base to the next. Imagine knowing you had the mind and the means to blow them all apart, and you were already on your way to doing it. 

Imagine how that power got to your head. 

Now imagine how it felt to have time to breathe. Imagine getting the biggest bedroom in the new place, offered to you by the members of the resistance who once deemed you crazy. Your own space, for the first time in your life since you were a kid. Your own little twin bed and window of freedom. 

Imagine the bliss. Imagine the relaxation.

Imagine the inhale of your cigarette as you basked in it all the past few days- and the exhale as you commended yourself for it. A moment, finally, to yourself. 

Now imagine the look on your face when that moment of peace was interrupted by three big fucking loud knocks on the door, jolting you upright and away from your bliss.

And of course, despite knowing you were about to beat the fuck out of whoever stood on the other side for disrupting your moment, you open it. 

Now imagine locking eyes with the most annoying girl in the Nation, blinking at you like you were an experiment made in a laboratory, with one hand raised in mid-air to knock again, and the other firm on her dog’s head. 

What do you do?

Ask her why the fuck she’s in a resistance base? Ask her what she wants?

Maybe.

Randy Warren doesn’t. Randy Warren is exhausted. 

So he tells her to go fuck herself, and slams the door in her face. 

///

“Please,”

She knocks again.

“Randy, please, I have money, I have-”

She stops in her tracks, suddenly hyperaware of how her voice is echoing off the chambers in the base. She could feel glares all around her, and she knew they weren’t being subtle on purpose. 

Why was Andromeda standing in an underground resistance bunker in a pair of Louis Vuitton heels, knocking on the door of the guy who blew up her headquarters and begging him to help?

No seriously, she’s asking, because she has no idea. 

There’s an awkward quiet that’s making her look more embarrassing by the second. Everyone has their eyes on her, and they’re too disgusted to do so much as cough and give her an ounce of company in the silence she’s occupying. 

She can’t blame them. This is their place. This is somewhere that barely even belongs to them in the first place, and here she is, invading it. 

She looks at their ragged, damp clothes, and she suddenly feels hyperaware of her million-dollar heels and gold earrings. 

Oh god, this cannot get worse.

She knocks again. 

There’s no answer, and she wants to die. 

Her fists close and unclose, and she reaches down to pet Smile’s head, just for something to do. She's certain he’s the only reason they haven’t tried to gut her like a fish yet. 

The silence is demanding, and contorting, and deafening, and she’s ready to walk out there and completely rewrite her plans for the third time, just because she cannot take the feeling. In a far-off fantasy, she's passive, and they don't want her slaughtered. 

But then, like an angel in the blackened corner of heaven, a small voice chimes in,

“Uh, we usually don’t talk to Randy…” says a girl and Andromeda whips around so fast she almost crashes on her ass. She can’t be more than nine, and she has long, matted brown hair that clumps down her back as though it hasn’t known a hairbrush since birth. Her dress is no better. It’s at least three sizes too big and drowns her in tears and stains, and her eyes bat up to Andromeda like she's talking to a god. 

“Lazari-” one of the older girls snaps Andromeda from her observations. She’s a short, plump girl with long black and white hair, and the first thing Andromeda notices about her is that she’s crying. 

A pang forms in her chest, but she knows she’s in no position to ask about her sadness, but she speaks to her anyways, 

“Look, I’m sorry I’m here, really- I’m not supposed to be here,” she babbled, trying and failing to stop herself because she was just that desperate, “I just- I need to talk to him, he’s the only person who-”

“What do you want with him?”

A voice like a knife pierces through the dimly lit room, and there like a savior, standing in the doorway that separates the main hub and the kitchen, is a guy with pitch black hair and deep brown eyes,

“I have something I need his help with,” 

Andromeda doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe it’s the helplessness in her voice or the glassiness in her eyes, but he relents, and takes her place in front of the bedroom door, knocking five distinct times, in a code that makes it open within seconds. 

“What the fuck does she want Keith?” Randy asks, and the two of them share a look before he steps back and lets them in. 

///

Randy throws his head back and laughs. Oh, this bitch is crazy.

“You’re asking me to rally up those guys and break your boyfriend- who I fuckin’ HATE- and all his friends outta jail? I swear to fucking god you need to get outta here before I pull out my switchblade and make a statement out of your guts-” 

He lights up another cigarette and hands the pack to Keith, looking down on the woman who was a huge part of the reason he sat here right now in this shitty bunker. Help her? As fucking if. 

He couldn’t actually believe she’d stoop so low to come and beg the resistance for their time. He couldn’t believe she’d stoop so low and ask HIM to help JEFF, the hugest part of the reason he was sitting here right now. 

He’d almost have sympathy for the girl if he didn’t want her dead. 

Andromeda doesn’t want to do this. She pulls her coat around her shoulders, trying to salvage some heat in the place, and she notices the lack of radiators to keep it warm. 

“Randy,” she tries again, “I’m begging you to do this, please…. I’ll get you guys, all of you, a place to live, |I’ll-”

He holds up a calloused hand to stop her in her tracks,

“You think we haven’t heard that shit before? You think the Nation hasn’t been promising better houses to us for years?” he mocks, blowing his smoke out in her face, “Save it, asshole- now get the fuck out of my room-”

He shoots the words like arrows into her chest, and he’s making his way to the door when she loses her composure, 

“I know what you did,” she blurts out and hates herself immediately solely for the way the fear flashes in his eyes. She knows she has him down, but at what cost?

He spins around like lightning, 

“You have no idea wh-”

“I have video evidence of the three of you making your way to the building and sneaking in with explosives, and if you don’t-” she paused, her moral compass flying off of its magnetic pull and spinning in untameable circles, “If you don’t help me, I’m going to be forced to turn you all in,”

Andromeda had seen a few executions in her time. She knows that being kids of the resistance, they’d probably seen a lot more. Threatening them only invited imagination for their heads on sticks and brains blown out. 

But she has no other choice. 

If they don’t help her, the candidates will be left to die. 

If they don’t help her, Jeff will be left to die. 

She only needed one look at his body, mutilated and being dragged in by wardens and thrown into the corner of a cell, to know her time was limited. To know she had to make them sorry that they messed with them. This is the final stop she has left to pull, and if it means sacrificing her morals and everything she’s stood for, then so be it. 

“When do you need us?” Randy’s voice croaks out, and she swears, even just for a second, that there is a god out there.

Chapter Text

HI GUYS!!!

Some of you may have noticed there was no chapter this week lmao i was SO sick last week like, could not physically get out of bed… and then my DOG was sick 😧 tf.

anyways

so then i was writing the chapter on speed mode to get it out but truth be told writing while sick is not the vibe and it was, for lack of better description, absolutely shit x

anyways so ive been CRUNCHING over this one, but ive decided that im just gonna put it out on friday instead lmao

IN SUMMARY: no new chapter last week but this ones gonna make it worth it, promise xoxo

thank u guys for putting up with me and my sickness ffs 🤕 ly all 

Chapter Text

Andromeda had no idea what she was doing. 

She swore since the war was in the works and it was nothing but a whisper, that she wouldn’t get close enough to the rubble to even entail her scraping a nail. But here she was, learning how to shoot a gun. 

You’d think at the very least, the admin would know how to do that, considering they were given shotguns like bulletproof vests at any given opportunity- the interviews, their press conferences, Nation Fashion Week- but having one didn't mean she knew how to work it. As far as she was concerned, it was for decoration and nothing more. 

She didn't get her status through gunfire, she got it through her mind. Sue her for being ignorant. 

“No, no you gotta do it like this- jeez babe you’re gonna shoot yourself. Let go-” one of the Resistance girls laughed softly, taking it out of her hand. She was a quiet girl until it came to blood, dressed consistently in a zip-up white hoodie and a pair of tight black jeans. Andromeda remembered her name was Kate. 

Kate fixed the positioning of the gun and handed it back to Andromeda, who thanked her. In the distance, she heard Randy let out an almost performatively loud sigh. 

Randy Warren was too sober for this shit. 

They had been training for a week. Bullets, maps, plans, and prison layouts haunted his every waking moment and every once-peaceful dream. His entire life was assigning roles and snapping at people for forgetting them, and it suddenly became a success if he got through the day without landing a punch to someone’s nose. 

He had always been a lone soldier until now, and this was why. 

Remind him never to do this again. 

He had rallied up the 8 strongest members of the resistance, except him, Keith, and Troy- those who were most devoted to the cause, most loyal, and most likely to know all the different ways to take the Nation down- and let them in on his plan to infiltrate the prison and break the candidates out. 

There were highs and lows of this plan. 

High: Having eight people at his beck and call to do his bidding was something he could get used to. 

High number 2: If Andromeda wasn’t screwing him over, he could win himself a life of luxury by doing her bidding.

Low: He thought the chances of him mutilating both Jeff and Liu at first sight were way too big for him to get comfortable here.  

Low number 2: Responsibilities fucking sucked. 

“Troy,” He seethed through clenched teeth, “Put the bomb down,”

Troy was trying to start a game of catch with the questionably detonated bomb. Can you believe the stupidity? Randy commends you if you can because he fucking can’t. 

“We’re bonding!” Troy called over, but upon noticing how furious Randy looked, awkwardly dropped it onto one of the pull-out tables reserved for sign-up sheets and maps of the prison.

Here he was, standing five foot eight in a room with eleven others, all of them looking up at him for their next protocol. Truth be told, he didn’t have the next protocol, but they were useless otherwise, and he was the only one for the job. Literally. Because Andromeda didn't have dirt on anyone but him. What a fucking bitch. 

“Alright, listen up,” he clapped his hands, and they all snapped to focus, “Here’s what we’re gonna do,”

///

Prison life was not for the faint of heart.

Lucky for them, yours was beating stronger by the day. 

And after a week of the horrors, a week of waiting- you finally saw your housemates again. 

And who was better to begin with, than Ben?

“Y/N!!” he shrieked, rushing toward you and knocking the wind out of your lungs with the most bone-crushing hug of relief you had felt in your entire life, and you hugged him back twice as hard, the two of you calling each other’s names over and over in yelps and cheers of joy as if you had just remembered them after a plight of amnesia. 

Kagekao was standing watch, and because you knew how lenient he tended to be, you didn’t hold back your reaction one single bit. 

Ben was a little paler, a little thinner, with dark blue-pigmented bags beneath his eyes and shoulders that cracked when you squeezed him, but despite it all… he was still Ben. 

You had never known an embrace so tight. You held him like an alley cat, scratching and clawing for any semblance of security, and he only laughed that wonderful, melodic laugh that brought you right back home, like nothing had happened at all. 

“God, I was so worried about you…” he mumbled into your shoulder as the two of you swayed- the initial exhilaration wearing slowly into accepting the reality of what was, and you couldn't help but feel your throat close up at the reminder that you had survived- that you were here. 

“Hey…” he soothed softly, hands rubbing up and down your shoulders and giving you warmth through the thinness of your training uniform, and you could tell by the shaking in his voice that he was on the verge of tears, too. 

“I gotcha..” he hushed, “We’re okay… I’m here now…” he whispered, kissing your temple over and over until the imprint of his lips had marked territory like a gravestone in a flower field. 

“I just thought… I thought that was it… I didn’t know where anyone was-” you hiccuped softly, and his thumbs gently brushed your tears away.

And he held you until you smiled again. 

///

“BITCH YOU LIVEDDDDD!!!”

You had never been so happy to hear a voice in your entire life. 

It had been three days since you had reunited with Ben, and the everlasting hope that came like fairy dust in his pocket gave you the motivation to carry on. Prison life was hard, but it was no longer impossible. 

And now- right now, it felt simple.

When Laughing Jack or Candypop had been on shift- surveilling you, haunting you- it was all cold sneers and harsh snapping. When it was Kagekao or Jason, things were different. 

Jason was a lifesaver. 

You had convinced him to let you, Jane, Nina, and Clockwork eat dinner together during one of his shifts, and be it down to his kindness or his general ‘don't give a fuck’ attitude, he let you. 

“Y/N!!”

Jane reached you first and threw her arms around you. Then came Nina, then Clockwork, who seemed to be walking in a limp, and soon the four of you were on the floor, screaming and grasping and clutching and clinging to each other like golden retrievers who had just been brought home again. 

The dinner was the same as always- potatoes and cold meat, but it had never tasted so good. 

///

“Yeah, I know, I understand…”

There was silence. And then the opening of a cell. 

And there he was. 

A slight cut on his lip, and a bruise on his cheek, but eyes that glimmered and shone in the same halcyon green they always did. 

Liu Woods.

He caught you in his arms before you could even utter a word. 

///

“Excellent lesson, Mr. Warren,”

“Shut the fuck up, Keith,”

Randy glared upward at Keith, who ruffled his hair in return, and he hated the way his stomach flipped. The two of them were walking back to the resistance base, side by side and alone, debriefing the session with the others,

“I’m serious, you really do have such a way with words, they all loved it,”

Randy knew he was telling the truth, just as he always did. And he couldn’t deny it. Everyone listened to his instructions and did their best to perfect each and every mechanism. 

He couldn't pretend he wasn’t satisfied.

///

You weren’t ready to see Toby, but you insisted. 

You knew you weren't ready the second Kagekao went quiet for the first time in his life and asked you if you were ready. That’s when it clicked. 

Nothing could have made you ready for what it was. From the opening of his cell to the closing of it, it was as though time had halted in the place of paralyzed terror:

Unconscious, shallow-breathing, and drenched in dried-up blood, ten times as thin and twice as pale. 

And his leg. 

Oh god, his leg… 

It was butchered. Bludgeoned. Completely and utterly twisted and fractured beyond visible repair. 

“What… the… fuck…” you breathed out, looking between his knocked-out figure and Kagekao’s nonchalant stance, “Why hasn’t he got any help? How are you just standing there right now? Go and get a doctor!”

The fury hit you like a bullet, and suddenly, the Y/N that knew how to cause a scene was back in action. You knelt at Toby’s side and checked his pulse, breathing out in relief when it was intact, but you couldn't ignore the cold sweat coating his face, which you dabbed with the corner of your uniform. You wanted to take him away and nurse him yourself. Anyone but Toby- not Toby, who was nothing but kind and humble and strong. Anyone but him. 

“Sorry princess, we can’t show favoritism-” Kagekao shrugged, “Thousands of prisoners are in here suffering, it wouldn’t be fair-”

“None of this is fair!” you protested, gesturing to the white walls and surveillance cameras, but you knew you were fighting a losing battle, 

“Sorry, Y/N, but it's outta my control-” he said again with the same half-hearted shrug. 

///

Brian caught you in his arms with a gentle sigh and a squeeze that cracked your bones, 

“Congratulations on your win, Mr. Hoodie,” you murmured in a sardonic tone that told him you weren’t being serious one bit, but he played along,

“Thank you, Miss Karma, it means the world, and you too, on second place-” he joked back in the same tone, the two of you laughing in the face of it all. 

///

You were not granted the right to Jeff's nor Helen's cell. 

//

You thought your pride would champion you when it came to seeing Tim again, in all of his glory, standing by the water fountain with a paper cup in his cut-stained hand.

It didn't. 

“There she is…” he croaked out, clearly still nursing himself back to health. You didn't wanna know what he had to fight in his trial. You didn’t wanna think about any of it again. 

“Here I am…” you found yourself repeating just as gently, meeting him halfway.

It seemed as if all of it: the betrayals, the ins and outs, the bitterness, the hatred- was put on pause for the time being, and the two of you were allowed to simply… be. 

And with that, you wrapped your arms around him with such intensity and need that everything felt alright again. 

////

Jack practically clawed his way to you.

You, who thought you were over the whole ‘fuck it, we’re young, let’s fall in love’ mindset you had adopted in early September, had recently come to find that actually, you weren’t. 

London had turned from a dreamscape to a fantasy, and you were itching for the comfort you had once found in him after realizing it was so brutally torn away from you by your mentor-turned-enemy. 

And sure, Jack was no angel either. He had driven you up the wall this past while with his whines and blissful ignorance and possessive marks, and for a long while, you had thought you were completely over it. But you weren't. 

Don't get me wrong- you didn’t want a relationship with him- JESUS no- at least not until you overthrew the government, but you had to admit, you missed the old Jack.

The Jack who noticed everything about you. The Jack who massaged your shoulders when they were tense. The Jack who made you tea and knew exactly when you liked it. The Jack who painted daydreams of foreign places and midnight flights. The Jack who knew you, and despite your thirst for obedience and his demonic desperation, liked you enough to wait.

And it seemed like the old Jack missed you twelve times as much, judging by the way he scooped you into his arms the second Jason said ‘Make it quick’.

“Y/N, I’m sorry…” he began, cradling you in his warm hold and refusing to let your feet touch the ground for even half a second, “I’m so fucking sorry for this past while- with me acting all crazy and possessive, I just… I don’t like being forced away from you… I’m learning how to be human again, and I fucked up, and -”

You were suddenly hyper-aware of Jason and his perked-up ears, 

“I understand,” you cut him off, “I forgive you,” 

You cupped his face in your hands and noted how he nuzzled into your palm, and could only smile at the semblance of normality in it all. 

Chapter Text

“-And I want you all to know that we do not take to this kind of attack lightly,” 

Silence. 

There had been this silence- serene and haunting- for the past 45 minutes, when the Admin decided to address the entire Nation with a mandatory viewing; an important message that would altar the course of the world forever.

Only flickering cameras and momentary throat clears begged the quiet to tear, but it forcefully prevailed, like a knight by the Old Man’s side,

“These four civilians have weighed heavy on our hearts since September, and it is now time to take action against the Wretched Underworld for the sins that will curse them for eternity,”

Hey, Reader, if you’re listening to this speech right now and thinking ‘what the fuck does he mean by civilians?’ let me just remind you:

Four innocent civilians were murdered when the Red Mist took over the Nation back in the earlier chapters, and blame was placed on the Underworld. However, when you and your housemates broke into the lab during the Winter’s Ball, you found evidence to tell you otherwise. 

Now, the Admin are finally addressing the matter.

However, you are unfortunately locked up right now, and can’t tell the Nation that they’re being lied to.

Anyways! 

TV broadcasts, radios- you name it- it was finding a way to communicate the speech across all sectors of the Nation: the prisons, the old taverns, even on display in town squares. In short, no one, nowhere, could escape the wheezing, rattling voice of the Old Man, spurting his lies to the masses.

Of course, with years of brainwashing and mindless indulgence to whatever the Admin told them to do, the Nation’s eyes were widened and their fists were ready to pledge their allegiance to their great, powerful leaders of infinity,

“Our people will no longer suffer for their innocence,” he was saying,

The Nation were nods, jeers and obedience,

“WE will no longer suffer for our goodness!” he was shouting now, his bones no longer brittle and the whiskers at either end of his mouth twitching with fury,

“And it is time we end it before it begins,” he was gripping the sides of the podium now, as everyone held baited breaths for the words he would say next,

“And on that, I am declaring an official war on the Underworld!”

And the world turned upside down.

///

Your head was in your hands, and you groaned from your cell. 

A war. Of course they declared war the second you were out of commission. Evil, no doubt, but geniuses all the same. 

The Old Man’s grainy voice was still echoing off the walls in your cell, swearing by the Nation to do whatever it took to protect them. Swearing by his oath to do whatever he could to offer them a life of safety. 

Little did they know he was the one pulling the strings to their puppet show. Little did they know the Admin were declaring war on a tyranny that they stood upon. 

You heard the Nation’s cheers in the background of the video, joining arms like horses on a carousel that was spinning into madness, and you smacked your head against your palms, because you could do absolutely nothing right now to stop it turning. 

What you needed was an opposing team to fight for. You needed to stand on the opposite side and fight for justice- for your dad back, for your HOME back. 

But in this cell, the only comrade you had was yourself. 

Truth be told, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You had become accustomed to the cell, believe it or not, with it’s dampened walls and bitter chill that seeped through your bones in the night. 

Either that, or your threshold for endurance was just better. 

Plus, you had memorised the Admin and their routine, meaning that you at least had patterns on your side. You knew when and where it was safe. 

You knew that Monday’s meant that Kagekao was in charge, which in turn, meant that you got to visit your housemates for two hours. For this reason, Monday’s were your holy grail. 

Tuesday’s, however, were not.

Tuesday’s were Laughing Jack’s day to take care of you all, which typically meant empty threats and verbal abuse all afternoon. 

Wednesday’s were Jason’s day, which meant that you got away with a lot, and you mastered the art in convincing him to obey your demands to see your housemates. He was never too fond of listening to you beg. 

Thursday’s were Candypop’s day, which went down about as well as you would expect.

And then the cycle repeated. Fridays, like Mondays, became a pit stop of joy in a week of darkness. Each of the Admin taking turns like soldiers, keeping you in line. 

What was funny, however, was that you never seemed to be guarded by Andromeda. 

///

“You think that stunt was funny, young lady?”

Andromeda had always hated being called young lady. She hated any belittling comment or snide remark that drew attention to her gender and how insecure it made them feel. She hated that they used it as a cop-out, to assert their imaginary dominance in the name of their sky-high egos. She hated that, and she hated them.

Ever since the trials, the symbol of the resistance began to grow in recognition, and now, since the people had begun to question the whereabouts of the candidates and open their ears to the Resistance’s calls, the symbol had popped up everywhere: in train stations, in town squares, painted on sidewalks and scratched into fences. 

It was a communicator for those who were awake, a way of letting you know where people stood in relation to the Nation whenever you entered a certain neighbourhood or passed a specific group of people. 

It was a symbol of resistance to the Nation, and a symbol of revolution to the Resistance. 

And since Andromeda decided to wear it live on TV, back when it was nothing but a rather confusing circle with an x through it, people began to talk.

That talking turned to questions, and soon the crowds were wondering why exactly, had their beloved Andromeda paraded out onto the set of the trials wearing a resistance symbol, and what exactly it meant. 

Now, she was sitting in the Old Man’s office, wondering if this was the moment they finally decided to kill her. Judging by the way Candypop was sizing her up, the odds were very much not in her favour. 

“Don’t you think we know what that symbol entails?”

It didn’t help her case that Randy’s name was blowing up her phone. She had been pulled in here on her way to a Resistance meeting no less, and she didn’t have time to tell him that she would be late. 

“I’m aware,” she spoke, but her voice felt foreign to her body. 

She knew what they did to the candidates. She knew what they did to the civilians- hell, she had witnessed it herself- the way they mutilated them and silenced their screams, erasing them from the narrative no less than a day later. 

She didn’t want to know what they’d do to her. 

And it was funny, too, because despite years of disagreeing with their terms and silently rooting for the underdog, it only took the candidates to get her to act on it. 

And what’s funnier is that the candidates were supposed to be her gateway INTO the Nation’s everlasting luxury. A way for her to reap nothing but goods and benefits, rendering her rich and famous and alone with her cats until she mysteriously dropped dead at 62. That had been the plan up until September 2014. 

Cold-hearted and weapons drawn, Andromeda had breezed down the crystal path laid out for her, with nothing but her soft skin and flowing gold locks to guide her. 

And then, just like a hurricane on dry land, he came in, and nothing was the same. 

His pointed knife cut through her pride, and his calloused hands built castles where her cathedrals went, and now here she was, going against the entire world and fighting a war for it. 

Just last year, if you had told Andromeda she would be joining the resistance to save a MAN, she would have laughed in your face and probably called you a bitch just to prove she was above you. 

But here she was, risking it all. 

“You have been discharged from the Administration with immediate effect. You may collect your things and leave within the next twenty four hours,”

Andromeda’s eyes widened. 

That…

That was it…?

She had watched these people declare war on an Underworld. She had watched these people murder innocent civilians in the name of fuelling pyre for the war. She had seen them torture the candidates and sneer at their screams. 

And she was just getting… laid off?

Don't get me wrong, she wasn't complaining about her life being spared. She was just confused. 

Her naivety wanted her to think she was free, but her mind knew there was more to the story. 

But for now, she let them believe she was content. 

Anyways, she had a meeting to get to.

///

You wound up predictably thinking of your dad.

War had been declared for two hours now, and you had no idea where he was. The idea of this was slowing driving you mad, but you had become a master in hiding it, especially when Laughing Jack was sneering in your face, almost forcing you to believe how likely it would be that you came out of your cell an orphan. 

But you knew better.

Had anything happened to him, you would know. You don’t exactly know how, but you would. 

And he was no different.

Thirteen cells down from yours, the current Operator sat, head in his hands and wondering whether or not you were out there on the front lines, forced against your will to play a pawn in their endless game. 

And had it been anyone else, it would have driven him insane. 

But he knew better. 

///

Jack Nichols was pacing his cell. Desperate was not the word.

He wished, more than any time he had wished before, that he was human. No one should face a feeling like this- a feeling so itching and gnawing, like clawing at stitches he could not break. It was cruel, being locked up like an animal. It was insufferable. 

You were just down the hall. He could still smell your lingered perfume on his training uniform, and it was the only relief he had to get him to sleep each night and keep him alive the following morning. 

He was trying, didn’t they see that? He was trying so damn hard to keep himself together, to act natural around you now, after last time. 

But he couldn’t help it. He had serious obsession issues

You lived in his head like a parasite, and you simultaneously cured and poisoned him, just by existing.

His hands were clenching and unclenching, itching for you. His demonic side was taking the reigns once again, and he was taking his time learning how to reel it in. On one hand, being locked up in this cell forced him to become human, just to keep him alive. On the other hand, his demonic side tearing inside of his bones like a cancer, practically begging to let itself out. 

God, being in love was exhausting.

///

“Sally, sweetheart, are you ready to go?” 

Sally Williams was a very busy girl today. It was so exciting! 

Since Hoodie won the trials, it seemed as though things were changing every day. First off, her school had closed down for a few weeks of holiday. This was something that existed ONLY in her dreams. No homework, no waking up early- no SCHOOL! It was pretty much the best thing ever. 

THEN, her parents started coming home earlier each night. This, for Sally, was a great big deal. Her dad worked at night-time, so she never got to see him unless it was the weekend. But last week, he started to come home for dinner. He told her it was because of something called a core-foo. Sally didn’t really know what that meant, but it sounded super cool! 

And then, just this morning, her mom told her that they would be staying in her aunt and uncle’s for a few months, while their neighbourhood got some changes. 

She was so excited! She loved her aunt and uncle. They were so much fun- letting her stay up late, giving her cookies and watch movies way too old for her age. It was practically like summer coming early!

She couldn’t wait to tell them all her stories about Karma and Liu and their friends, and she couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces at all her merchandise she had collected over the months. 

God, this was going to be the best time ever! 

"I'm coming, mom!" 

///

“Randy?” 

If Randy Warren heard his name one more time tonight, he swore he was going to start a war against the Resistance himself. 

“What?!” he snapped,

This was not good. Come to think of it, funnily enough, most things in his life were not good right now. 

After the declaration of war, one of the resistance bunkers had been bombed as an ‘act of retaliation’ against the Underworld. According to the media, there had been threats of underling secret spies lingering in Resistance areas. The Nation bought it well. Of course it made sense that the resistance were mixed up with the Underworld. All the better to exterminate them! 

But Randy knew better.

He knew they had an hourglass, and the sand was falling like bombs on their plans. 

He also knew that it wouldn’t be long before someone, somewhere, sold him out. 

It’d be no surprise. Since the explosion of the Admin building, he had gone from a whisper to a scream, and it was unheard of now, NOT to have heard of him. 

Unfortunately for him, this meant that his time was seriously limited.

Fortunately for him, he didn’t really give a fuck. 

“Alright, we move out in an hour, get ready,” he announced, before turning to walk back to his bunker for a shower. 

Like lightning, all ten of them sprung to their feet, with the exception of Keith. 

“Move out?!” Troy piped up from where he was perched on a hay bail with two of the girls, “What the hell do you mean MOVE OUT? I thought the prison break was next week?”

“That was before the invasions started,” Randy called back, “We don’t HAVE til next week, now stop asking questions and get ready,”

Troy rolled his eyes and stood up, following Randy, but Keith was quicker,

“He said don’t ask questions,” he said, hand stopping Troy from going any further, and it was a silent, begrudging agreement between the three of them that could only be described as familial, that made Troy step back and begin to pack up his stuff. 

He guessed it was time for a rescue mission. 

Chapter Text

Ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary readers, here is a foolproof guide on how to break the Nation’s Strongest out of prison:

Step 1: Make sure your team know their posts. 

“Kate, Sadie, and Hobo-heart, the three of you will enter the prison first. Make sure you use the first door to the far right on the second floor. The second you’re in, make your way to the main office, which will be just to your left, and grab the keys from Kagekao. By this time, he’ll be dick-deep in a bottle of wine and passed out drunk,” Randy was commanding, “There will be no security guards outside the door at this time, but be ready to take them down as soon as you move back out,” 

The journey to the prison had been quiet and brooding, much like their potential futures or lack thereof. They had spent weeks training for this through plans and preparations, and tonight was the night they would reap their rewards. 

Keith had gotten hold of a black van, large enough to hold at least sixteen people, and a hospital stretcher, courtesy of someone he knew on the outside. It was common etiquette not to question that. 

Step 2: Know where your enemies are.

“The rest of the Admin are currently in the center of the Nation attending a meeting on the war, so we don’t have to worry about them- they’re at least an hour out,” 

In another life, Randy Warren made the finest dictator the Nation had ever seen. In this one, he made just as good a rebel. 

Every word he said was a product of lost sleep and finite time. He had created dreamscapes and turned them into files, maps, and pages filled with numbers and details and locations and schemes. He had used what little rest he had to dream of the prison- its narrow hallways and damp walls, and he did not proceed until he knew it blind. 

The day he had been released from it, just a few months ago, after the suspected attack on the admin building, he drew a rough sketch of the floors and everything he had seen. He had spent days holed up in corners, refusing to speak to Keith or Troy other than to confirm details and directions. 

And now, it would finally pay off. 

Step 3: Work with Mother Nature. 

The window separating the front three seats and the back of the van was down, and Randy was commanding from the middle position, only a dim light on the roof to illuminate his face,

“We stay here until I give you the go-ahead. It’s 3 minutes past 9 right now, we’ll be moving at around 10 minutes past,” he said, “Weather isn’t too cold, but it isn't too hot. There’s a chill, but no wind. It’s completely dark out there, but you can use the prison’s floodlights to find your way back to us- lighting won’t be a problem, don’t make it one,”  

There was an ice in his tone that he didn’t account for, but he had gathered enough respect by now to earn nothing but nods. 

Step 4: Use technology to your advantage. 

“Here,” Randy handed each of them a high-tech security device (a small ear insert that allowed him to communicate orders to them. He had bought it with his dad’s credit card on the outskirts of the nation. Not that the asshole would even notice- he’d probably just assume it was part of all the other illegal shit he buys.

“Once you three head in,” he turned to address Kate, Hobo-heart and Sadie, “Troy, Keith and I will wait three minutes and seventeen seconds to start the prison break. By that time, Ann and Dr. Smiley- you’ll have the first aid kits ready to go, so you can immediately start medical care when the candidates come out,” 

Keith and Troy secured their handguns, loading and cocking them before shoving them into their pockets. Kate, Hobo-heart, and Sadie stood with military posture, boots laced and faces tight, 

“We’ll work through the candidates individually, and send them out to the van- Jonathan and Zoe are in the secondary location right now… Kate, Sadie, and Hobo-heart, we won’t see you once you head out, your pickup car will be waiting a few blocks left to take you back to base,”

Kate nodded, and Hobo-heart rested his hand on the handle of the door, 

“It’s been a pleasure,” Sadie smiled gently at them. Sure, they weren’t exactly family, but they had been training for this shared dream, and now was the time to grasp it. Randy gave her a nod in response, and it was enough to tell them all they needed to know,

“We’ll all meet again,” Troy, ever the optimist, laughed, wrapping an arm around Hobo-Heart’s neck and tugging him in for a last-minute half-hug. It lifted the tension in the van by a millimeter but drew a closer eye to the fact that this really was it. 

After weeks of training on freezing fields and whispers among deaf crowds. Weeks of inside jokes and breaking down walls, of smirks behind Randy’s back when he was more uptight than usual and pursed lips at Troy’s sarcastic comments. It had all come down to this moment. And every single one of them was determined not to fuck it up,

Step 5: Get your timing right. 

“The second the last candidate makes it into this van, you need to drive,” he turned to Andromeda, whose hands were white and shaking on the wheel. The designated driver of their getaway car,

“If Keith, Troy, or I don’t make it back in time, it means we were caught, and it means you need to leave us, or all of this will have been for nothing,”

“But-”

“It means you need to leave us,” he repeated in that final tone, and she knew she couldn't question it. In a matter of an hour, the twelve of them would be here. In a matter of an hour, JEFF would be here, and they’d be rushing to their freedom. 

Electricity rattled off the edges of the walls and seemed to tangle with the energy they felt in their bodies, and in the silence of the dark, Randy tugged out a small laptop, placing it on the dashboard, 

“It’s already hacked into the cameras, you’ll be able to see who’s coming and act accordingly,” He was addressing Andromeda and the medics now, his voice fine and steady, “You’ll need to heal those who need it quick- if you’re late, you’ll lose them time, and time is all they fucking need right now,” 

Andromeda nodded, as a small light blinked on the laptop like a siren. It was exactly 10 minutes past 9, 

“Kagekao has just fallen asleep, Kate, Hobo-heart, and Sadie, go,” 

And just like that, they went. Back doors squeaked and slammed, and Andromeda watched as their figures disappeared in the distance, and the timer officially began. 

Three minutes and eighteen seconds. 

///

A small whine caught your attention at the foot of your cell. 

It was a Monday night, and you had just finished nursing Toby, something that had become part of your routine each night Kagekao was on shift. Even when he was out cold, you sat by his side, rubbing a thumb over his hand or whispering things to him- facts, thoughts, things you knew he’d love to hear. It had become just as relaxing to you as you hoped it was to him, and over the course of the weeks, it had become holy grail in your purgatory cell. 

He had been awake tonight, but barely, and even still, managed a smile at your words.

His leg was completely demolished, and help had long since become a foreign thing, but he took it like a winner. 

Toby was a fighter, through and through- an indestructible force with a heart of gold dust. He acted like it was nothing but a scratch, and you knew he couldn't feel the pain, but Jesus. 

So in an odd sort of way, you felt it for him. 

And it led to right now, with you in the corner, praying to a higher power you weren’t sure you even believed in to help him. You needed something, anything. Something holy and pure and light, to come and mend him, and despite your silent pleas, your answers came in nil. 

But that's when you heard the whine. 

You shot up, prayers interrupted, and in this world of discrepancies and disbelief, you still couldn’t accept it. 

There, sitting at the bars of your cell, in the highest guarded prison in the Nation, with a tilted head and red-black fur, was the cat. 

The cat who had become a familiar friend through the chaos. The cat who had come to your window and nuzzled into your bedsheets and chest in the coldest of nights. 

There it was, watching you. 

Immediately, you threw your body forward, using what little energy you had to land on your brittle, bruised knees and reaching out, as though to make sure it wasn’t a mirage. 

It nuzzled right into the crevice of your hand.

“Hi…” you whispered, and it purred in response. 

You didn’t really know how this was possible. You didn’t know how it had gone undetected, nor did you know how it found you in the first place.

But you knew it meant something. It had a penchant for appearing just before trial or tribulation, you realized. 

And despite your confusion, you succumbed to its comforting purrs. The two of you sat there, cheek against palm, until it straightened up and stretched, before strutting off into the darkness and leaving you once again alone. 

///

Boots against floor tiles and bated breath against being discovered, Randy Warren had never felt more alive. 

He, Keith, and Troy had just met up with Kate, who had the keys waiting in her hand and bid her goodbyes through salutes before setting off on their separate journeys. 

Step 6: Confidence, Baby. 

He, Keith, and Troy had four keys each. He did not know who had which, nor did he count it as vital information. So long as all twelve candidates were free, his mission and debt to Andromeda were cleared.

However, a childish part of him prayed he didn’t have the key to either of the Woods brothers' cell. Call him a dickhead if you want, he doesn’t care. 

Cell #151. That was his first stop, and after receiving notice that Hobo Heart had successfully taken down the security on that floor, he set off into the solemn hallway, avoiding treading in bloodstains. That would only give him away. 

And there it was, cold and desolate, cell #151. 

The lock was old, and when wrangled with, snapped open immediately, and he was face to face with brown hair and eye-bags, glaring at him in disgust, like he was an omen who had come to tear him apart. 

Note to self: prepare yourself for how awkward this would be next time. 

“Don’t talk,” he started, using the same commanding tone he typically applied to his team. He should have known it wouldn’t work. Who would the candidates ever take orders from in the climate they lived in?

God, he remembered how much he hated these people.

“If you want freedom, follow me. We’re breaking you and the candidates out of here. If you say a word, you’ll give yourself away. I know you’re smarter than that. If you wanna be left here to rot, be my guest,”

The man was more intelligent than Randy originally gave him credit for, for he stood to his feet and followed him silent, but not obedient. He ensured to tread around the bloodstains, just as Randy had done. 

There was a silent amicability between them as they stepped over the security guard’s lifeless bodies and toward the open window- a co-existence he had not reserved for such people,

“We’re on the first floor- the window isn’t that high. Jump out, and when you land, make your way as fast as possible to the black van, we have medics waiting,” he commanded, “Now,”

And the man disappeared. 
 

///

Andromeda’s eyes harrowed in on the laptop, watching as Tim stumbled toward the van as though in a drunken haze, and she let out a nervous, yet relieved sigh that the plan was in motion- and that it was working. 

The last she had seen of Tim had been his post-trial interview, where he spoke in pained, shaky breaths, clutching reluctantly at his side as though it were a weakness in his stride. 

Now, he was no longer in sheer agony, but the limp in his step told her all she needed to know about his healing progress.

But on the brighter side, one down, eleven to go.

Chapter Text

Ben was free. 

He was sprinting, faster than he had ever sprinted before- adrenaline in his veins and a maddening grin on his face. He could taste the blood in his mouth, a byproduct of weeks spent idle, and he swallowed it with the same truth he felt knowing that this was it. 

That he was finally getting the fuck out of here. 

Like a fallen angel from heaven, the guy with the black hair had directed him to the window ledge and instructed him to bolt toward the pickup van, and he wasted no time in doing just that. And he was doing great, too, until a voice halted him in his tracks. 

It caused him to comically skid and trip, catching himself last minute at the window-sill. Not for a moment did he think this was the end, though. Even in capture, he felt indestructible. 

“Ben?!”

“Cody!”

He locked eyes with his ambiguous friend, the one with the brown hair who had worked alongside the admin as their servant in a lab coat. It was a stretch to call him a friend at all, but Ben knew he wasn’t like the others. He was simply roped into a bad situation, and he was doing a damn good job at making the best out of it. 

There he stood, eyes wide, aware he had just caught Ben in the act of doing something punishable by death, and even more aware that he was the only one around to see it. This was his arrest to make. 

Ben was leaning on the window ledge now, in blissful ignorance of the timer he had on his life, staring up at Cody with a kindness he could not afford. 

Cody was flat-footed on the linoleum floor, a second-hand lab coat hanging loose around his shoulders, staring down at Ben with a hesitance he could not afford. 

The two of them stood, pawns in a game bigger than they could understand, unsure of how to navigate its course. 

Cody broke the silence first,

“What are you doing?!” he stage-whispered, eager to keep this entire interaction as secret as possible.

“Uh.. escaping?” Ben responded in a question-like manner, as though he had only discovered he was escaping three seconds ago. 

But what Ben lacked in awareness, Cody made up for it twice as much. His internal monologue was spinning out of control, like an electric whisk in a bowl of hot lava. 

He had a job to do. The Admin was already on his back about this new Influenza drug he had failed to perfect. And he was still making up for the fact he had left his lab unattended when the candidates had stumbled upon it before the explosion. He was in deep shit as it was. If he got caught letting one of the candidates escape, god knows what they’d do to him. 

But he liked Ben. Fuck, he really liked Ben. Who didn’t? Ben was the first and only person to ever show him some sort of genuine kindness after a life of being shut up and forced to obey a law he didn’t believe in. He was probably the only person Cody could call a friend-  which was pathetic, considering they had only spoken a handful of times about things that were not the trials. 

If he let him go, he’d be complicit. 

But if he kept him trapped, he’d be a coward. 

Ben spoke before he could make his mind up, 

“We’ll be back for you,” he nodded, no sense of fear in his tone. It was like he knew Cody’s decision before he even made it, “As soon as we figure things out and get strong again, I promise,” 

Something inside Cody knew he wasn’t a liar. 

So he nodded, and made up his mind, 

“Good luck...” he said, breath shaking, anxieties of a thousand convictions falling on his shoulders, “I’m rooting for you,” 

And with that, Ben disappeared, falling almost stage-like out of the window, and Cody returned to his lab, alone. 

///

“My name is Keith Daviss, please don’t panic, we’re part of the resistance and we’re here to rescue you and the candidates from prison,” 

Jane looked up at the man wide-eyed, fawn-like despite her typical sharp stance, and for a second, he thought she would refuse. 

He knew she would be a hard case to reckon with, given their brief past. She likely saw him as the monster he used to be, back when adolescence was too much to take and it drove him to violence. He couldn’t blame her if she put up a fight. 

She knew exactly who he was. He was the guy who had sent her hometown into mourning and fear, not knowing who would be next on their hit-list. She had lost sleep over the fear of him and his two friends breaking into her home and leaving her for dead. He was a known danger. He was the guy who had been involved in the attack on the Admin Building not too long ago, and if her suspicions were right, he was the guy who had succeeded in blowing it up just last month. 

And sure, he was a monster among them.

But he was also the only guy who showed up to save them. 

So she bit her tongue and followed him out. 

//

“Where is she?”

Oh for fucks sake.

“Liu,”

“I know who you are, Randy Warren,” 

“Yeah, I know who you are too, now shut the fuck up and follo-”

“Where. Is. She?"

“Where is who? Your stupid fuckin girlfriend?”

Randy was not above being childish, even in crisis. He hopes you understand. 

Liu let out what sounded like a hum of annoyance and a curse under his breath. Randy wishes he cared. 

“She’s already in the van- and if you wanna see her ever again, keep your mouth shut and follow me or else I'll blow your brains out and leave you here as a warning to the Admin,” 

That got him moving, albeit reluctantly. Randy followed behind, gun pressed into his back in case he decided now was the time to cause a scene, and in the wake of their hissed arguing, a deafening crack was heard from the floor above them. 

“Go,” Randy hissed, shoving him forward.

///

Liu was the eighth candidate to climb into the back of the van, and he immediately began to curse Randy’s lies whilst reluctantly receiving care on his sliced-open elbows from the nurse. He fucking lied. Where were you?

The sight of his housemates calmed him down and gave him a sense that you would be coming soon, but he needed you now. Seeing you in five-minute pockets once a week was not enough for him, especially since the presence of the prison had begun to seriously mess around with his sanity, and by the looks of the rest of them- their jittering hands, their wayward darting eyes- they were the same. 

“Shit, shit, shit fucking shit,” Andromeda’s voice muttered from the front seat, whilst Jane, Nina, and Clockwork hung over the back of it to see what was going on. 

There, on her laptop, showed footage of Kate, Sadie, and Hobo-heart getting blasted, and shot down with rifles and machine guns from what looked to be an army of prison guards. Dead. They were dead. 

Andromeda refused to let her eyes water over three people she barely knew- not when she bore witness to the deaths of strangers every day. But God. This was devastating. 

And what made it worse was that without them, the timer only cut itself in two. Getting everyone out alive and in one piece was looking less likely by the second. 

///

Was now a good time for Troy to admit he had no idea what you looked like?

Probably not. 

Honestly, he never thought they’d get this far. 

He grew up in one of the rare towns where it wasn’t the norm to broadcast the Operator and his daughter on every media source available. What the fuck was he supposed to do, go and hunt you down?

When he moved to the same neighborhood as Keith and Randy, he was too caught up in pretending to be cool that he never really bothered to do his research. When they talked about you, he just acted like he knew what they meant. You were annoying and rich, and that was about it. How much more did he really need to know?

During mandatory viewings or trial watches, he was busy helping his mom or too focused on doing things for the resistance,  and yeah, it sounds literally impossible that he HADN’T seen you before, but trust me, he was probably more surprised than you were about it. 

So when he opened your cell to see you crouched and shivering in the corner, you literally could have been anyone. 

And he didn’t know much about the candidates, nor did he know much about women, but he knew that you were nothing short of the most jaw-dropping, beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life.

“Um… who are you?” you croaked out, honestly fucking confused that some guy was staring you down in the doorway of your cell. 

Troy suddenly forgot his lines. 

“Rescue… mission, rescue mission, I’m Troy Green, here to rescue you, we’re on a mission,”

God, he needed to shut the fuck up. 

“Rescue me?” you asked, 

“Resistance member,” he grinned, flicking his charm on like a switch, his blue eyes catching off the fluorescent lighting, “Look, sweetheart, I have no idea who you are and I’m pretty sure there’s a shooting going on upstairs, so we gotta make this quick,” 

This threw you off. 

Because everyone had an idea who you were. That was kinda your whole thing. This guy could have been anyone, and the fact he was claiming not to know you raised your suspicions. 

“I don't buy it,” you flatly said, staying put in the corner of your cell. 

“What..?” his voice cracked. He was NOT prepared for this. 

“You really don't have any idea who I am? Really?” 

“No, but you gotta follow me- seriously, we don't have time-”

You had time.

“I don’t trust you,”

“Babe,” he tried to convince whilst also keeping his oncoming panic at bay, “I mean it, we’re gonna be in trouble if we don’t go right now, you NEED to cooperate,” 

“You go ahead, I’m-”

Another round of crossfire sounded from upstairs. 

“Sorry about this,” he shook his head, wasting no time in picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder like a poorly wrapped bag of lemons, and had you not lost your strength due to malnutrition and overall exhaustion, you would have fought him harder. But he was strong, and you were no match. 

///

“This one was complicated,” he gently set you into the arms of a nurse with brown, wavy hair before saluting to her, “I still got two more to get-”

You were still coming to terms with your housemates swarming you, their hands on yours and their greetings slightly echoed, when Andromeda, to your surprise, span around from the front seat, 

“Troy, you can’t go back in there, you’re gonna get killed!” 

“I’ll be fine, promise!” he whistled back, and he was gone before she could say anything else. 

You were placed on a stretcher, and the nurse wrapped a blanket around your shoulders as Liu squeezed onto your hand and whispered reassurances to you like his entire life depended on it. 

But it wasn’t until you locked eyes with Tim, helping the Doctor out with his bandages, did you know you were free. 

///

It was all hugs and reunions until Toby came, carried by an anxiety-ridden Keith, who was a lot stronger than his thin arms gave him credit for. He was immediately placed onto the stretcher, both the doctor and nurse working on him with precision and speed you had never seen. It was bright lights and bandages and disinfectant that smelled so strong you were on the verge of gagging. 

Ten down, two to go.

Jeff came out with furrowed eyebrows that dared anyone to question his strength based on his obvious limp and ripped-open skin. It was as if he was fighting the laws of nature to appear stronger than he, or anyone, could be in that situation. 

He hopped into the back of the van and shrugged off the nurse, who was immediately trying to dress his wounds, 

“I don’t fuckin’ need that shit-” he shoved her away from him, which, in the already tense van, did nothing to ease it,

“Jeff,” Liu shot, “Just shut the fuck up for one second and let them help you,” 

“No,” Jeff responded, bitter as ever, and you suddenly forgot what it was like to come to peaceful terms with him, “Why did Randy just come and break me out of prison? What the fuck? Why are we even here?! Where’s Andy?”

Andromeda spun around, as though she had just lost a losing battle with herself,

“I’m here, and we’re getting out of here,” she shot, “If you wanna go back in, be our guest,”

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, and the two of them returned to their silence. 

You doubt you’d ever understand their relationship. 

///

Helen hobbled behind Keith and Troy with nothing but the blessing of a wooden, chipped broomstick he had been using as a crutch to help him. His arm was poorly bandaged, thanks to the Admin saving their face and acting like saints when the Nation saw how brutally wounded he had gotten during the trials. He spent a night in their makeshift hospital and then got dragged to a media-friendly room where pictures were taken of his cast and bandages to post to the Nation's news outlets. 

He was helped into the van by the doctor and nurse, and just like they had done on Toby, they began working right away. Keith and Troy hopped into the driver’s seating area next to Andromeda, with Troy laughing his ass off like he had just won gold in the Olympics,

“We did it!” he practically cheered, "All twelve of them, fuckin' FREE!"

But Keith wasn’t buying it.

After the gunshots, and the clear notion that their three sharpshooters had been taken out, the earpieces went static, and they hadn’t gone back to normal since. The video footage on Andromeda’s laptop had also been wiped. Someone had found them out, and turned off the cameras. 

They only had a matter of seconds before they noticed the van outside. 

And Randy wasn’t here yet. 

“Andromeda, foot on the clutch,” Keith ordered slowly.

Still no sign of him. 

“We have to leave in nineteen seconds,” she spoke slowly, as though barely able to buy it herself. 

Seventeen seconds.

Still no Randy.

Fourteen.

The candidates in the backseat were, for once, quiet. 

Twelve. 

Eleven.

Ten.

Nine. 

And then, like a bullet in smoke, he came, darting and then leaping into the back of the van like a lion striking down on its prey, before scrambling to the front and pounding on the glass that separated him from the driver’s seats, 

“FUCKING DRIVE. NOW.”

Chapter Text

Spring had sprung.

It had been a month since the prison break, and the reality that your freedom had lasted this long was as bone-crushing as one of Ben’s best hugs. 

You and your housemates had got out in one piece. The others had not been as lucky. 

After Randy had thrown himself into the back of the van and screamed at Andromeda to floor it, everything had turned from a blaze to a blur. It was all swearing and skidding and shooting from pistols between you guys and the officers in the hazmat suits that had chased you down. 

In the heat of the fire, Nurse Ann and Dr. Smiley got the short end of the stick, because two of the officer’s bullets had struck them down. The only two medics on board, taken out. It was almost unbelievable. 

You couldn’t stop to mourn, because the officers were surrounding you, their bullets ricocheting off the van at every angle, and for a brief second, you thought it was the end. 

But it wasn’t… of course, it wasn’t. 

You still weren’t sure what happened- whether it was a chance earthquake or not, but the floor around you began to shake, splitting and diverting before your eyes like something from a movie. In seconds, the threats around you had been taken out, and you were speeding away from all of it. It was something inhumane, and something you knew would need to be explored and discussed in the future. 

When you reached the border of the Nation, the van had stopped. You weren’t sure whether you had run out of gas or if something bigger lurked up ahead, but with the shock of the escape and the exhaustion that had crept up on you like a phantom, you didn’t bother to lift your head off of Clockwork’s shoulder long enough to check. 

You could hear muffled voices and the sliding open of the van door. You knew by the movements around you that Randy had climbed out. 

You found out later that Andromeda had to leave you all at the border. She physically could not leave the Nation due to the tracking chip lodged tight in her arm, and she still had work to do before she could cut it out once and for all, so she headed back into the onslaught of war, not turning back as you fled. 

You didn’t stop until you were far into the outskirts of the Nation, past all the colored streets and pretty markets, past all the fruit stalls and lively chatter. You didn’t stop until the life of the city had been drained.

And it led you to a warehouse. 

It was huge, with a flat roof and thousands of boarded-up windows. Despite its clear, ancient appearance, not once crack formed on the white walls. A set of metal doors stood proud at the front.

Inside, a huge banner reading ‘WELCOME HOME HELEN AND OTHERS’ had been scrawled in messy red paint, courtesy of the two people practically bouncing on the balls of their feet as you filed in. 

You remember how they beelined for him, and the look of sheer relief and ecstasy on his face as he wrapped his arms around them. It was as if none of you had existed at all, and in your hopeless stupor of despair, this was just the hope that you needed. 

Jonathan and Zero, the two friends you had heard about the night of the post-interview party, had gutted this place from the inside out and spent months making it liveable for you. Considering it was protected by the outskirts of the Nation, they doubted the Admin would think to find you here, and they were right. 

So you each got a room and enough food, water, and healthcare to keep you afloat until you were ready to get back out there.

Healing was not linear. Surprise surprise. 

You were still cursed with the fears of what they were doing to your dad; of where your dad even was. The last you had heard from him was through warnings, and you were doing your best to shrug off the notion that it was because the worst had happened.

You had also come to terms with the fact that the Admin were out to get both him and all of your housemates, for the sake of destroying you with your grief. The conversation you all overheard the night their building exploded was lingering like an unwanted ghost in your conversations, but one that no one was ready to address. They were the pawns, and you were the checkmate. Your privilege once again, was sticking out like a bleeding cut. 

Some fared better than others. Toby, to your surprise, had worked out how to walk with crutches in record time, and despite his ever-changing mood swings, he was still the Toby you knew. Jeff, on the other hand, had become completely opposed to the idea of doing anything but wallowing in self-pity and starting fights. Despite being the Resistance’s favorite, he didn’t have the gratitude to show for it. 

The only silver lining was that he had Smile. Andromeda had sent him here with Jonathan and Zero, likely to keep him company, and it was working. The two of them were as inseparable as ever. 

After a week of trying to melt tensions and getting to know the five new guests in your lives, you began to train again. 

One thing you had failed to pick up on, was that the Admin had tested for your special abilities., but they only trained you on physical combat. 

In light of recent discoveries, you guessed it was because they didn’t want you to grow any stronger. They tested your special abilities to know how to take you down, not to help build you up. 

So here, you had the time to do it yourselves, using the members of the Resistance to help you as much as possible, which in your case, was impossible. 

It was no secret that Zero hated you. 

You knew it from the first bitter glare she had sent your way, her arms tight around Helen, looking at you like you were the parasite that brought the plague. 

She made a point to ignore you when you spoke, and purposefully disclude you when she could, referring to you only as ‘the operator’s daughter’, with a venom on her tongue that spat to no one else.

You have to admit, you understood it, but it kinda stung. Especially when you saw her around the other Resistance members. She was all smiles and dirty jokes, ruffling their hair and garnering their respect like a military officer. 

She had even warmed up to some of you guys. Sure, her initial hesitance was evident, but after finding out more about them, she dropped her judgments. All it took was for her to know that Clockwork was a famous assassin who came from nothing for her to drop all formalities and treat her like the others.

And sure, her opinion of you didn’t really matter, but it still sucked to be the bottom of the barrel, even if it was for the first time in your life. 

Even when Helen had introduced you, eyes sparkling and smile warm, she didn’t budge. Even when Jonathan had chastised her for cackling when you accidentally slipped during one of your training sessions, she didn’t falter. 

The girl wanted you dead. 

“Don’t mind it, Y/N,” Jane soothed one night, brushing your hair for you. You had been particularly sad over her snarky comments and had let yourself feel it, just this once, 

“She’s bitter, it runs in her blood, just as it used to run in yours,” she said, “She’ll come round eventually… she’s taking it out on you because she has no one else to take it out on,”

You knew she was right. 

“I just wish I wasn’t seen as this monster..” you sighed, “I understand it, but it’s not easy,” 

It didn’t help, either, that she had just recently found herself comfortable with Jane, after the two of them came downstairs in the same pair of pajamas. When she knew Jane had grown up with Randy, Keith and Troy, she accepted her like family.

The only other person she treated with the same disgust and ignorance was Liu.

“She’s just an asshole, babe, don’t let her get to you,” he had said, pressing a kiss to your head in front of Brian, and you leaned into the contact, counting your blessings for that fake dating contract.

But despite her bitterness toward him, it was no match for her sheer hatred for you. Sure, she rolled her eyes when he spoke and made a point not to include him, but to you, she treated you as if you were the devil incarnate. 

After the second month, you got fed up trying to impress her. You had bigger things to worry about. There was a war, for fuck’s sake. A war that was getting worse every single day and wouldn’t end until your housemates AND your dad were impaled on spears and the Admin was turning the Nation into a state of control. 

The better part of the month was spent catching up with everyone. It had been a hot minute since you actually got to spend time with them, so you were savoring every single second. 

This morning was a typical day in the warehouse. It was big enough to house the seventeen of you without it getting cramped, and you were spending it eating breakfast… with Tim.

Sure, he was an asshole. Sure, you had your differences. Sure, he wasn’t your friend

But unfortunately, none of that meant he didn’t understand you better than anyone else, so here you were.

“I can’t believe you were right about that theory,” he shook his head, sipping his coffee with tired eyes, “Credit where it’s due,”

You were grateful for moments like this- moments where the two of you put the bad blood aside for a second of normality, and after the month you had, you needed normality,

“Well what can I say,” you shrugged, flicking your hair behind your shoulder, “I’m not just a pretty face,”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, princess,” he rolled his eyes, “You’re not a pretty face at all,” 

///

Despite your cravings for normality, you were beginning to get a bit bored.

The day went by at a snail’s pace. You didn’t have internet in the building, nor did you have much entertainment other than watching your housemates sharpen up their skills, and there was only so many targets Toby could hit with a hatchet before it got old. 

I mean, sure, there was Jack, but he seemed to be going through something right now. He had gone from fidgety and borderline animalistic to reserved and brooding, opting to spend time in his room rather than staring at every breath you took. 

You guessed it was for the better, but you kinda missed having him by your side. 

And of course, you had Ben. Without Ben, you were sure you’d have gone completely insane. He kept all of you entertained with games, magic tricks and long-winded stories that had you laughing until your ribs cramped up.

Randy and his friends kept themselves on the top floor, sectioned away from you guys with the excuse of having work to do, yet he made a point to send down a checklist for chores to be completed. 

You? Washing dishes for a resistance member? It’s more likely than you think. 

Routine was something you were beginning to grow cold toward. You were waking up, getting dressed, going into the main room, doing chores, eating, and then going to bed. You had no liberation, no individuality. You felt like a robot, itching for something more.

And then it came. 

It was a month and a half into your refuge when it happened. You were sitting in the main area with the candidates, your head on Nina’s lap and your feet on Ben’s as you all watched Brian, Liu, Clockwork and Toby face off in a game of poker. 

You were barely falling asleep when the door creaked open, revealing Jonathan, dressed in all black.

You didn’t know what to make of the boy. He was nothing you thought he’d be. Whilst Helen was reserved and polite, he was rowdy and loud. He was always shouting something, throwing something, cackling at something that had nothing to do with you, and if Zero’s opinion mattered (which to you, of course, it did), he had absolutely nothing going on up there.

But you could tell he meant business tonight. 

“Yo,” he whisper-shouted, gathering your attention. All of you stopped, waiting for his next words,

And then they came, like a free-fall of confetti- a burst of your favorite song through a mile-high speaker, 

“You guys wanna come party?"

Chapter Text

Tell me how your life came to this, please. 

This day last year, you were sitting peacefully in your own home, probably watching re-runs of RuPaul’s Drag Race with your dad. 

Tonight, you were lost in a crowd of liberals in an underground karaoke club, owned and run by Jonathan’s cousin. A resistance club, to be exact. 

Were you welcome there? No. Did Jonathan bargain at the door for your protection, even if just for one night? You bet your ass he did. 

Jonathan had begun to grow on you, like a friend's boyfriend you tolerated through proximity. Sneaking you into a resistance club definitely gave him points. 

Randy had warned the twelve of you over and over again to stay inside the warehouse; to not venture out for even a second lest the Admin’s ever-present eyes laid upon you. It had been one of his three rules, up there with ‘Don’t try and contact him if he wasn’t on the main floor’ and ‘Don’t even think about looking at him before he had breakfast’. 

You didn’t mind the rules originally. Sure, you were bored out of your skull, but with all the exercise and training you had been doing, you needed the rest. Your knees were practically about to cave in. 

And yet, here you were. 

Truth be told, you couldn’t say no to a good party. You took YOLO too seriously in 2012, and tonight was a consequence of it. 

It was all screams and laughs from girls in tube tops and mini skirts, and the air tasted like shots of alcohol you never had before. They burned the back of your throat and made your head whirl with excitement, but how could you say no, when Jonathan insisted all drinks were on him?

Within the first hour, you felt luminescent with the glows of strobe lights and neon lasers piercing right through you. Early 2000s music blared through speakers taller than you were- Nelly Furtado and Lady Gaga and Kesha. A DJ was calling out chants and spinning records, and Jonathan was right up there on the stage next to him, wielding a microphone like a dagger in his hands. 

A thought burned in your brain. It was weird to think that these people would have a huge target on your back had they been sober. The thought was striking, and each time it popped up, you knocked back another drink until it was nothing but a distant blur. 

You’d thought enough. Tonight, you were here to have fun. 

You had linked arms with Nina and Jane, with Clockwork on your tail, steering the four of you into an area you could dominate,

“THIS IS WHAT I WAS BORN FOR!!!” Nina screamed over the music, a drink splashing onto the floor with every erratic move she made. 

That was the synopsis of the night. You danced like you were enamored with the four walls around you, and the three of them followed suit. They were ethereal, like sirens in the deep, with their flowing hair and pretty limbs, twirling you and laughing and singing as though they were, for the first time in their lives, free. 

It was a pattern not exclusive to you. It seemed as though all around you, girls glistened and glittered like fireflies on a summer night. They smelled of sweet perfume and coconut. Every time you turned your head, another one appeared, dancing and singing and twirling you like there was no guaranteed tomorrow. 

You were in awe of them all, but especially your friends. Through their stumbles and slurs, you caught glimpses of their brilliance and god, you loved them. 

It was in this moment of bliss you noticed the men and their lingering gazes.

Jack was feasting on your silhouette like an addict with a craving, and you knew him well enough by now to know exactly how to give the dose he needed- just enough to swallow but never enough to satiate. 

And oh, did you give him it.

Hips swirling and lips glossed, you danced for him like you were getting paid for it, knowing that every breath he saw, rising and falling from your chest was sending him crazy. 

And it wasn’t just him. 

If Jack was desperate stares, Liu was self-assured grins. 

Liu had spent the majority of the night with Jonathan, Ben, and Toby, lighting up the room and entertaining men and women alike with their anecdotes and their jokes about running for Operator. You couldn’t tell what they were better at: gaining supporters or making friends. You weren’t exactly the girl to mark the difference. 

But despite having the wingspan of the most credible social butterfly in the Nation, you knew his eyes were stuck on you. If he was the butterfly, you were the flower he laid upon. Forest green and motionless, he looked at you like you were a master at breathing life into people like him. 

You were dizzy, and despite coming to a standstill when you met Liu’s gaze, you couldn’t help but feel like a projection of yourself. 

From across the room, he sent you a wave and a wink, and you felt your heart soar. Drunk you was not as talented as sober you when it came to keeping locks on your heart. 

You knew if you sat around waiting on another ounce of attention from him, you’d get caught up in the prospects of asking what you really were past the PR relationship, so you steered away from those hypnotic eyes for the sake of your dignity. 

And that’s when you spotted Zoe.

She was drunk out of her mind, completely beyond belief. Her chessboard hair trailed down her back in gentle curls, and her typical hoodie and leggings combo had been replaced with a pair of high-waisted shorts and knee socks, along with a cropped top that showed how each and every curve on her body glistened in the light. 

Maybe it was the amount of alcohol you had. Maybe it was the untouchable nature of her- the fact you had absolutely no chance- that made her look so irresistible. Suddenly, you’d give up the competition if it meant getting in her good books. 

She was spinning round and round with a few girls she likely knew from the resistance, all of them singing to the music, and you felt like an outsider of the world’s greatest club, desperately trying to peer in through fogged-up windows. 

Was it hot in here? 

You needed another drink. 

Thankfully, Ben had reunited with you, his arms snaking around your waist from behind and tugging you into his chest to dance with you and steer you both to the bar. 

“Lemme buy a drink for my favorite girl,” he slurred slightly, his hand on your lower back as he kept you from slipping into the crowd, and who were you to deny yourself a little obliteration, as a treat? 

///

Four shots of tequila later and you were in a karaoke room, sitting on Toby’s lap and watching Jonathan completely destroy Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri (and not in a good way). You were cackling to the point of breathlessness, the feeling of Toby’s fingers pressing into your back keeping you grounded more than ever. 

“You are a weapon..” he joked as you shifted around to get comfortable, completely aware of the effect you had on him in doing so. 

You don’t know what part of the night Brian picked up a microphone and started to perform Steal My Girl, but it by far stole the show,

“This one’s for guys,” he pointed a finger, aiming sloppily at you, Ben, Toby, and Clockwork, and the memory of you in the car at Christmas time played clear in your mind. He had been so pissed off at the four of you, screeching the lyrics like ten-year-old girls, yet here he was four months later, showing you all up. 

 If you were gone, Brian was annihilated to no return. The blackmail you were all about to have on this man was insane, considering he also spent the majority of the night in heels, befriending three-quarters of the resistance base and leaving him his credentials for when he inevitably won the competition because he made a promise each of them would get a house. 

A little while after karaoke, when Brian and Jonathan had gone to smoke, you found yourself back in the club, the lights and colors blurring more and more together, and oh god, you couldn’t fucking walk. 

Yet still, you felt infinite. 

You were the Operator’s daughter, living it up in a resistance club. Do you know the implications of this? Like, sure, they all maybe wanted you dead, and the fact they were drunk was the only thing keeping you alive right now, but come on- you fucking owned this place. You were about to fucking own the world. This was your moment- and you needed to let everyone know it. 

So that's exactly what you did. 

In the corner of your eye, you spotted Ben, holding his hand out and tugging Brian up to stand on one of the tables. Both of them were just as out of it as you were, so of course, this seemed like the best new trend, and you were NEVER getting over it. 

Seconds later, there you were, spinning around on an abandoned table to the sound of Beyonce, crowds at your feet- drenched in sweat and reeking of vodka, but cheering for you. Not the highest-ranked candidate in the trials. Not the Operator’s princess. You. Y/N. 

Sure, the room was spinning. Sure, you were seeing triple, and you were certain this night wasn’t over until you either threw up or passed out, but you’d choose here over literally anywhere else in the world any day. This was your moment. 

You sang, and you span and stumbled, catching yourself every time and gazing down at the crowd beneath you, drinking you up like a poison. 

And that’s when you noticed him, just aside from your followers, arms crossed and eyes slanted, just as always. Tim Wright.

You don’t know why he was wasting his time in a club, stone-cold sober and looking at you like you had committed a felony, but you weren’t about to question it. In fact, you were going to be even more obnoxious, just out of spite. 

You had it- an untouchable grace and high that only drunk girls can hold, spinning and dancing with it on your table, your stage, purposely glaring back at him as though to challenge every look he sent your way. 

And then you tripped.

Of course, the fucking asshole saw it coming. Of course he did. He was standing there practically counting down the seconds til you did something to make yourself look like an idiot. 

Your ankle twisted, and you felt the world like it was put in slow motion, the table growing taller, the ground looking closer.

And just when you began to weigh up the size of the bruise, you landed in his arms, defeated against that ‘I told you so’ gaze. 

And you, with all of your drunken stupor and spite and an endless array of synonyms for the word ‘fuck’, couldn't think of a single thing to say but ‘hi’. 

“Hi Y/N,” he responded, voice smooth as ever, keeping you pressed against his chest. He was strong, you knew that, but the feeling of warmth that came from him mixed with the smell of his cologne tranquilized you to the point of no return. 

You wish your sober self was here to beat you over the head with a metaphorical steel rod until you saw the light, but she was nowhere to be found. It was just you and your inebriation. 

You knew you couldn’t stop looking at him if you tried, and it seemed as though he was the same, because your eyes didn't break contact for a second. 

And with the crowd around you, and the liquor, and the endless confusion that was this night, you leaned in.

You could deal with the consequences in the morning.

He didn’t pull away. 

And then…

“WE’VE BEEN CAUGHT,”

Jonathan’s voice boomed into the microphone as the lights dimmed, soon replaced with the red and blue flashes of police sirens closing in on the club. 

Now would have been a great time for you to know that resistance clubs were actually illegal now, according to the newest laws currently being implemented by the admin. 

Not a second was wasted before everyone decided to make a break for it, scattering like mice on a chopping board. It was seriously ridiculous how fast they could go when the majority of them had been barely mobile for the past two hours, but it was like a stampede. Hundreds of bodies pushing and shoving their way to the exit doors, cups of liquor being tossed to the floor or being sluggishly necked back in an ode to their courage. 

You were still too drunk to notice half of the things going on, and thanked the universe that Tim of all people had you right now, because he was pretty much one of the only people here you would depend on in this state, despite your eagerness to state otherwise.

And believe it or not, despite the odds, the fourteen of you ended up back at the warehouse, unscathed. 

//

Brian can’t remember being chased by the police. Brian can’t remember fucking anything. 

It was 6am the next day, and he found himself waking up in a bed he hadn’t seen in his life… in nothing but his underwear. 

In the next blink, he looked to the side, trying to establish who was lying next to him.

Jonathan. A man he had barely spoken three words to. Tangled limb to limb with him, like two otters on a stream. 

Oh God, how drunk was he last night?

Jonathan stretched as if on cue, his arm wrapping around Brian’s bare chest, stirring ever so slightly. Brian figured now would be a good time to introduce himself. 

He pulled himself upright, trying to fight against the demon pounding like a kickdrum in his head, and as if it was mocking him, a cardboard party hat fell from his hair onto his lap, with at least fifty signatures and phone numbers from strangers on it. 

After that, memories began to pop up.

A shopping cart chase away from the police. Karaoke bars. One Direction songs. Nightclubs. Tables that squeaked and shook. Shots. Cocktails. More shots. People screaming his name. Shaking hands with strangers. Slurred speeches and drunken promises. Dancing. Shouting. Laughing. 

If he were a detective, he would have already quit his job by now after being handed this case. 

Flashes. More of them. The same shopping cart, only with Toby sitting next to him. Jonathan pushing it. Singing along to police sirens. 

Okay, now he really wished that he could find his clothes. 

He peered over the bed, squinting in the darkness for something- anything that bore semblance to him. Please. 

And that’s when he saw it: his orange hoodie, safe and sound under… a pair of seven-inch, glittery pink high heels. A product of a lost bet. 

His entire body shuddered and cringed, burying his face in his arms and asking a god he didn’t believe in to spare him from his fate. 

That was the last time he ever let himself out like that again. Quote him. 

///

“Irresponsible, miscalculated,” he counted on his fingers, “Absolutely. Downright. Fucking. STUPID!” 

Randy Warren was at his wit's end for the thirteenth time this week. Who would have ever thought that housing the twelve most powerful people in the nation would go down like babysitting a group of preschoolers? Not fucking him. 

He, Keith and Troy had come down last night to find the entire warehouse empty, and it didn’t take someone with a degree in Jonathan to know exactly where he had taken you. 

You were sitting, trying so desperately not to throw up again. Your body was white, and your hands hadn’t stopped shaking since you were woken up by the alarm Randy had hidden in each of your bedrooms for 6am. 

He stood like a messiah of rage, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed, looking at you as if you had all been caught sneaking out past curfew.

Which, come to think of it, is exactly what happened.

You did feel bad. I mean, you really wanted to impress these people. They had built an entire career out of hating you, only to risk their lives keeping you and your housemates hidden form the Admin. You knew you should feel guilty, but it was hard when the only sound you could tolerate was your heartbeat fluttering against your temples. 

“We’re sorry man,” Jonathan held his hands up, his eyes completely covered by the beanie on his head, and lolled back on the sofa with a groan, “I mean hey, at least we didn’t do anything too crazy,”

“You stole a SOFA!” Randy snapped.

You looked around, because who the hell helped Jonathan steal a sofa? 

Brian met your gaze, and then averted his eyes to the floor. You avoided a snicker. 

“It’s not funny,” Randy chided those who couldn’t suppress their own, “I mean it, you have no idea how dangerous it is out there now, the fuckin’ Nation’s like a police state, and you guys are treating it like a damn game,” 

He was right. Your volition had burdened you with a curse of hedony. 

It seemed as though the rest of your housemates thought the same because murmured apologies filled the room.

“I don’t give a fuck if you get caught,” Randy said, “But don’t get me caught, I worked too hard to let you guys fuck it up,” 

You understood his rage, your respect for him increasing by the second. He stormed out, Keith hot on his tracks and Ben just behind, calling out attempts of apologies on behalf of the rest of you. 

In the mix of hangovers and memory loss, the lot of you decided that your partying era had come to an end. 

Until the following Friday. 

Chapter Text

“Troy-”

“I’m SERIOUS!”

Randy Warren’s patience was being tested yet again. Surprise fucking surprise. 

Here he was, dick-deep in drawing up plans and communicating with official, high-ranking members of the resistance through top-secret intercoms and radio. And here was Troy, barging in and trying to convince him that he was more stupid than Randy thought he was. 

“So the whole time you didn’t know Y/N was the Operator’s daughter? How much more fucking dense can you be?”

“I dunno I never thought to check what one she was til we caught her, but that’s beside the point-”

“So what is the point?” Randy snapped,

“THE POINT is that she’s my soulmate and I think I’m gonna die if I don’t marry her- THAT’s the point man,”

Randy sighed a bereft sigh. What was it with these people and turning the most world-ending circumstances into a high school drama?

Troy sighed a lovestruck sigh. What was it with him and having the worst luck ever? He finds the girl of his dreams and it turns out she’s the most high-ranked person in the Nation? It seriously wasn’t fair. 

And to make matters worse, she was blind to any advances he had made on her. He’d been trying his best, okay? He wasn’t innocent- he knew how to wrap a girl around his finger… but this was different. Y/N was pretty much the light at the end of his tunnel vision, that shone for the entire world. He had no idea how to catch her. 

His compliments were meant with awkward gratitude, and his wit and humour were met with simple smiles and gentle laughs (not that he could complain about either of those). If you were a statue of gold, he was the one coming along every few days to make you shine. 

And with you in such close proximity to him at all times? Test of his motherfucking patience. 

“I need her to notice me,” he practically begged, lying on Randy’s bed and shoving a few of the pages resting on the sheets carelessly to the floor. 

“Yeah good luck, she’s dating that asshole Liu…” Randy muttered, but Troy was having none of it,

“I could fix her-” he suggested,

“Get the fuck out of my room,” Randy snapped. 

///

You were currently training in one of the warehouse’s rooms, throwing your scissors over and over at a range of weighted targets, trying your best to knock them to the floor. It was impossible. 

“N-ice one, Y/N!” Toby called from his beanbag. He was feeling chirpy this morning, a stark difference from last night when he had thrown the toaster at the wall because Jack had shoved him out of the way. You were glad for it. A happy Toby lit up the room. 

He opted to watching you train until he was out of his cast. Despite doing all he could to aim at his targets, there was only so many you could hit with a hatchet before you needed to get up and move around. 

You had taken to training in the mornings and evenings, leaving the afternoon free for you to do whatever the hell you wanted, and in the strangest way, it was the most free you had ever felt. There were no remarks from your dad about making the Nation proud, nor were there claws that belonged to a monochrome clown digging into your dignity. 

Living here was almost fun. 

In your evening session, you decided to give up the scissor-throwing and train with the punching bags, trying to build your strength back up. 

When the door knocked. 

You half-expected to see Tim, here to annoy you with another snide comment about your stance. 

Instead, your eyes met blue. 

And Troy was leaning against the doorframe. 

Troy Green was Randy’s cocky friend who thought he was slick for calling you sweetheart and holding doors open for you. He was good-intentioned, but terribly executed. 

“Thought you might want a drink,” he held out a glass of lemonade- pink, sparkling, an umbrella on the side for good measure. 

And yeah, you did want a drink. 

You thanked him curtly, and reached out to take it, 

“So, you training?” he asked, before internally cursing at himself because what did it LOOK LIKE YOU WERE DOING?

You bit back a sarcastic remark and nodded, “Yup, you making lemonade for everyone or…?”

You and Troy had formed a cat-and-mouse type of acquaintanceship. He found you, and you always gave him a reason to keep chasing. 

“Just my favourites,” he shamelessly flirted, “Your hair’s nice when it’s tied up like that,”

You, who was not used to compliments despite half of your housemates being head over heels for you, cleared your throat, “Thank you…”

“Beautiful, actually,”

“Troy?”

“Yes?”

“Are you done?”

He pursed his lips and nodded, “I’m done,”

And it was this expression- his mock dejected face and wayward gaze, that made you laugh. 

And he immediately lit up, laughing with you. 

And your heart fluttered a little at the sound.

///

“Yo- you,”

You had been accustomed to being called ‘You’ by Randy. He claimed he didn't have time to learn names- that it was futile because you didn’t need to become attached like that, so he opted to referring to you all by pronouns or something that made you stand out. Clockwork’s was ticks, Toby’s was crutches, and Jack’s was eyeless. 

You liked that he didn’t treat you any differently because of who you were. You had always feared he of all people would have that grudge, but Randy Warren didn’t hold grudges. In his opinion, it would be rich to cast judgement on someone’s character without knowing their content when he had spent his entire life outrunning critics who did that to him. Operator’s daughter or resistance bolter, you were all the same in his eyes. 

You respected Randy enough to spin around at his command, 

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

Seconds later you were in his office, enthralled by his work. Plans- scrolls of them- sat bundled and crumpled and spread out on bedsheets and tables and walls. No place was left unfilled with an idea- be it through a red string connecting evidence, sticky notes with phone number, or the scrolls of scraggly handwriting. The only free space was next to his bed, holding nothing but a framed picture of what looked to be him as a child, around 6 or 7, in the arms of a beautiful woman with long, ginger hair. 

His mother. 

“Here,” he beckoned you over with the usual maddening look in his eyes, pointing to the desk in front of him,

“What do you know about Zalgo?”

You blinked. Zalgo. You hadn’t heard that name in months. Through the chaos of the trials and the escape from prison, you somehow forgot about the knocking on the walls and the haunting in your forest, 

“Excuse m-”

“Zalgo, Y/N, what do you know about him,” he grabbed a pen. One thing about Randy, he did not fuck around, 

“Like, what he looks like? Or-”

“Anything-”

So you told him all of it. The flowers, the murders, you and Tim’s theories, the underground seminar back in September, the knocking on your walls, and how you had the sneaking feeling everything linked back to him.

It took you an hour, and by the time you were finished, Randy had filled a double-sided poster page in red ink, not looking up once the entire time you spoke. 

“That it?” he asked you,

“That’s it,” you nodded, “Why?”

“Because,” he said, turning to you, “Up until last month, we were convinced Zalgo didn’t exist,”

You furrowed your eyebrows,

“He was a scapegoat, a figure to represent the resistance- like a monster used to represent their hatred toward us… Zalgo was a scary story they told to their Nation kids, I’ve already asked your blonde friend, he confirmed this, Zalgo was created to implement fear into your heads, but he didn’t exist to us- we knew the truth,”

This had been the second time you heard of this: Zalgo being nothing but an urban legend used to scare children, and then used to scare you. Zalgo being nothing but the monster in your closet. 

“But they weren’t lying,” he said, crossing his arms like he had just come to terms with the acceptance of a very challenging fate, “Zalgo exists,” 

“How do you know for sure?” you asked him, just to make sure, 

“Remember the earthquake after our prison break? That was him, it had to be,” 

He pulled out a small map, and a textbook on seismic movements within the nation- pointing to a few of them, 

“It isn’t physically possible for that to happen naturally, it had to be created by him,” Randy nodded 

“But why? Why would Zalgo save us like that?”

“That I still don’t know, but thanks for the information, you can go,”

You knew Randy enough by now to know that was the conversation over, and you shut the door tight on your way out. 

“Having fun?”

You jumped out of your skin, looking up to see large, sparkling opal eyes gleaming back down to you, 

“Helen, Jesus you nearly gave me a heart attack!” you laughed, “I was just talking to Randy,”

The two of you walked toward the main hallway together, knocking into each other's shoulders every so often in a comfortable sort of way. Ever since you came here, you had seen Helen sparkle like you had never seen before. He was with his family, and no matter how much Zero wanted you dead and Jonathan talked your ears off, you couldn't help but love them for it. 

“He’s something isn’t he?” Helen snorted.

“Crazy genius,” you muttered,

“But terrifying…” he finished, both of you laughing together.

You had become even closer with Helen since you got here. In fact, everyone had. He had gone from being the quietest in the house to being confident, calm and cool at all times. You guessed it was down to circumstance and experience- being half-mutilated in the trials and left for dead in prison really brings the soul out of a guy. 

Either way, it was nice to hear the playing of a piano from down the hall, accompanied by gentle, self-assured humming, rather than static silence behind a bolted door. 

“So we’re having a party tonight,” he proposed, sitting down on the sofa and letting you sit next to him, your legs pressed against each other, the scent of his cologne so gentle and sweet on his skin, 

“A real resistance one,” he snorted, “sorta like the ones I told you about, but far less in scale,”

“I thought we were banned from parties?” you smirked, 

“It’s… a lot less intense,”

“You guys talkin shit?” Jonathan called, opening the kitchen door with a bagel in his hand and joining you on the sofa. You instinctively moved to shit your leg from pressing so close to Helen’s, but he only followed you, keeping your skin together. 

“About you? Always,” Helen shot back, earning a swift smack across the back of the head from his friend,

“You gotta put him in his place more Y/N, he’s gonna make me insecure,”

“You promise?” Helen sarcastically retorted, and you found yourself smirking at how quick-witted he really was. The two of them were like brothers.

“I'm telling her about the party tonight,” Helen stage-whispered, and Jonathan nodded, winking in your direction,

“No details, just be there for 8-” he smirked, keeping his voice just as low, and you looked at Helen for some idea of where the fuck he was talking about. 

But when you turned, you suddenly became aware of how close your faces were, mere inches from each other.

And he was just as mesmerizing as the day you first saw him before you met your wretched mentor. 

His large eyes fluttered down to your lips, before meeting your gaze again, blush tinted on his cheeks. You suddenly felt as though you were in a museum, admiring a masterpiece up close,

“Basement…” he murmured, lips parted, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jonathan smirk. 

It was as if all the stars above had aligned for this moment. You cursed the ground Jonathan walked on for interrupting. 

And as if on cue at the mere mention of stars, all the electricity in the room suddenly sparked out- popping and sizzling and shooting tiny flickers and specks all over the place. You swore Jonathan screamed. 

You couldn’t ignore, however, that in the darkened room, five slender fingers rested gently on your thigh, his legs still pressed against your own. 

You hitched a breath. Oh, he was bold. 

From the kitchen, Clockwork ran in, a piece of uncooked toast in her hand and a torch in the other, “Are we okay?” 

And then, like a flash of pure magic, Ben zapped into the living room,

“My bad guys leveled up in my training,” he joked with a pant, hair completely ruffled and stuck up at all ends, soot dusting his undereyes.

“Did you just travel through the electricity?” Jonathan asked with the same tone you would ask a lion who just learned to speak, 

“Yup! Definitely needs working on though,” Ben laughed, and you felt Helen gently squeeze down on your leg, your soft skin molding so perfectly beneath his sculptor’s hands. 

Now was not the time to be getting turned on, Y/N. But oh my god, his hands. 

The door burst open to Randy, looking furious, 

“Can you at least let me know when you’re gonna turn all the fuckin power off? Jesus christ,” he rolled his eyes.. Ben only laughed, hands on his hips, 

//

Minutes later, when everyone had gathered to see Ben’s new trick, you disappeared to your room to take a cold shower and try and forget what the fuck Helen had just done in the darkness. 

More importantly, you needed to shake off the feeling that was growing inside of you, hot and desperate. 

You slammed the door shut and bolted it, before spinning around and letting out a gasp. 

Your cat- the perfect distraction- was sat neatly on your bedclothes, blinking up to you as though you had summoned it yourself. Its red and black fur looked to be neatly groomed, but you knew that was impossible. You hadn’t seen him in ages. 

“Now how did you find me?” you mused, grateful for something to fix your mind to. You pressed a few kisses to his head and wondered how he managed to follow you off the grid. 

A bigger skeptic would have questioned it, but the girl in you didn’t bother. As far as you were concerned, love conquers all destinations.

Chapter Text

Your tits looked amazing. 

There you were, glorious as ever, admiring yourself in the mirror at 7:10 pm on a Saturday. 

You were right on track to being ready for Jonathan’s ‘incognito-lowkey-totally-not-a-party’ resistance party in 20 minutes, so you gave yourself a little time to indulge in your beauty. Sure, you were hiding out from people who wanted you dead. Sure, you were terrified for the future.

But you were still just a girl at heart. What were you supposed to do if not admire it?

You had your moments, but this knocked them out of the park. Your eyeliner was sharp, your lipstick was shimmery, and your lashes were curled. 

You looked like the goddess of all things regal. 

And the only person you had to impress tonight was yourself. 

I mean sure, you had your options. The boys in here were falling to your feet like they had something to prove. Jack practically acted like every breath you breathed and every word you spoke was made from gold dust. Since you had moved into the warehouse, he had made a habit of walking past your room just as you were exiting it- which would be considered creepy if you didn’t know him better. 

He was learning how to handle the whole human thing, and he was doing his best to disguise his desperation beneath smiles and gentle goodnights. You had to give him it. 

There was also Liu, who was, for lack of better terms, making you lose your mind.

You hadn’t taken him for the possessive type, especially considering the two of you weren’t even officially together. 

But God. 

Since Troy had spent the majority of his time trying his best to win you over with his pick-up lines and hilarious jokes, it seemed as if Liu had done his best to shut you out and act like you didn’t exist. 

You had confronted him about it, too, reminding him harshly that this was just a fake relationship, as he himself had declared it. He only nodded, and told you he had no idea what you were talking about.

Sure, whatever. 

There was also Tim.

You didn’t like to think about Tim for too long, because your body lost control to your mind and you started feeling things, like butterflies and flutters in your heart. Two things you never thought you could ever associate with Tim. 

He was a maze of misconstrued dignity and lost respect, mixed together with ignorance and an ego too big for his own good. 

But there had also been last week, when you had undeniably leant in… to kiss him. 

Yeah.

That was something that happened. 

But you weren’t ready to face that just yet. 

You were twenty, and you were young and beautiful and free. There was a war out there, brewing like a hurricane each and every day. Relationships? Love? Two things at the bottom of your list of priorities. 

When you still didn’t know where your dad was or when you’d see him again, you didn’t have the time to kick your feet over Jack's chestnut hair or Liu’s sparkling green eyes. 

You couldn’t afford love, but just for tonight, you could cash out on a little bit of freedom. 

Jonathan and Zero’s grand attempt at rehoming the Nation’s Problem Children had apparently gained some traction, because a few of the resistance kids had donated their old clothes to you.

It was a kindness foreign to you. The idea of girls your age giving you their clothes for free, even though the majority of them probably wanted you dead. Granted, Jonathan had probably lied and told them you were joining their side, but still. 

You had chosen a beautiful, simple dress that fit you like a glove, and as you previously noted, made your tits look phenomenal.

And it would have been the most perfect little montage of getting ready... if you didn’t realize that there was a zipper on the back.

“Shit…” you muttered to yourself, awkwardly scrambling to get it, but it was useless. It was too low. You couldn’t reach it. 

“Fucking hell…”

Why did this shit always happen to you? Seriously?

And it wasn’t like the mansion, where you could dart next door and ask Nina for help. The warehouse’s rooms were all spread out. Even if you wanted to go and find one of the girls, you’d likely end up walking for five or ten minutes before you did. 

This was a fucking disaster. 

You opted to awkwardly shuffle around, mentally noting how if anyone saw you right now, you’d swan dive off the side of the warehouse. 

And then, just when you were on the verge of giving up, the door knocked. 

Thank you universe. 

You fully expected to see one of the girls, asking what was taking you so long. 

Instead, you saw Helen Otis. 

Black t-shirt. Black jeans. A little bit of eyeliner. Hair impossibly perfect. Hazy smile, like he had been caught in a daydream and too happy about it to snap himself out of it. 

“Ready to attend your first real resistance party?” he asked you, and you looked at him with the hugest deer-in-the-headlights expression, because how the fuck did he look so good all the time?

He called back to the night after the interviews, when the two of you had stayed up chainsmoking and talking about your pasts. 

That had seemed like a lifetime ago, when the resistance was nothing but a dying flame. 

Now, here you were. 

“More than ever…” you grinned, “I uh…”

God, this was embarrassing. 

“I need your help with something…”

He was as attentive and as cool as ever, 

“Of course,” 

You beckoned him in and shut the door, before spinning around, your entire back visible to him. 

Was this actually happening right now?

“My dress… I can’t-”

You were speaking like someone with perpetual shyness, not the sharp-tongued Y/N you had grown into at all. If he noticed, he didn't make it obvious. 

“I gotcha…” he nodded in understanding, taking a step toward you.

You were not ready for this. 

You had been fixated with his hands since he placed one on your thigh. This had to be some sort of test. 

Both hands gripped either side of your waist, and you couldn’t miss the way he squeezed down on your flesh, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine at the way his cold rings pressed into you.

You hitched your breath, and he muttered out a small ‘whoops’ with a tone that told you he had no remorse whatsoever. 

God, you were heating up. 

“Pretty dress, Y/N…” he murmured again, voice so low you could barely make it out, his breath hot on the skin of your shoulder, "Really suits you..." 

Jesus christ, you weren’t making this out alive. 

The entire process was painfully slow, and made your insides heat up with every brush of his knuckle and freezing, ice cold rings that pressed into your back.

Jesus, how were they so cold?

You shivered, and heard him smirk out a laugh from behind you. 

This was going to kill you. But what a way it was to die.

To your relief, the zip finally clicked into place. To your despair, he let go of you. 

“There you go,” he hummed, before offering you his arm to lead you down the stairs. 

///

For an incognito, lowkey, (totally not a) party, the basement looked amazing. 

Chattering crescendoed against the sound of a 5 Seconds of Summer song, brought to you by a speaker Jonathan had clearly swindled from a club. You admired the disco ball carelessly attached to the ceiling, creating the sort of colorful illusion that the room was a lot smaller than it really was.

3 or 4 of your housemates crowded around the sofa that Jonathan and Brian had stolen last week, all of them holding a can of something they had chosen as their poison for the night. The others filled the room in their small groups, and the fourteen of you filled the place up nicely. 

It was like something from a teenage coming-of-age movie you used to fantasize about growing up.

You had no idea how Jonathan did it. He had been sneaking out more often recently, despite Zero and Randy’s constant nagging about the growing dangers of doing so, but everyone knew Jonathan better than that.

He was free as a hawk, drunk on the secrecy of slipping in and out of market stalls and bars, thieving and drinking up information he totally wasn’t supposed to know. 

Judging by the look of the basement, the lifetime supply of alcohol was a product of his recent missions.  

“Well look who decided to show up!” he called, his trademark beanie lazily slipping off of his head as he tugged himself to his feet, “Mr. Resistance Kid and The Operator’s Princess themselves, and boy am I honoured to-”

“Shut the fuck up” Helen rolled his eyes, pouring and handing you a drink. 

The girls noticed you before you noticed them, and made a beeline for you like a parade of flamingos who had just been fed their favorite snacks at the zoo. 

“You look AMAZING!” Nina bolted toward you, a red cup sloshing her drink all over the floor. 

She linked her arm with yours and dragged you toward the corner, the other two following you and excitedly chattering about how Helen insisted on coming to pick you up (“Disgusting” Natalie had said; “SO romantic!” Jane had said). 

In the corner, Zero was standing, arms crossed, face like thunder.

She was, however, in a tiny miniskirt and matching top that made your cheeks flush. Something about her glare kinda made you want her to walk all over you. Literally and metaphorically. 

Your distaste for her had very rudely morphed into attraction. You were officially the optimist of the generation. 

You tried to meet her eyes and communicate some form of apology that you had invaded her precious space and very clearly fucked up her entire night, but she refused to meet your gaze. 

Well, at least you tried. 

///

By midnight, everyone was tipsy enough to forget that the walls weren’t soundproof. 

They were not, however, tipsy enough to let it slide that Troy had inserted himself into the scene. 

He slipped through the doors and sneakily appeared right next to the alcohol table, his eyes darting around as though he was a child who was trying to see how long he could stay awake while his parents watched TV before they noticed he wasn’t actually in bed. 

“YO! PARTY CRASHER!” Jonathan leaped over the sofa, pointing accusingly at him. Like a record scratch, he let go of the cup he had been holding and held his hands up, 

The majority of the others snickered and returned back to what they had been doing. Jonathan wasn’t letting up, and was currently cutting short any of Troy’s advances and pleads to stay. 

And maybe it was the basic camaraderie the two of you had this week. Maybe it was the alcohol talking. 

Either way, you found your feet moving toward them. 

“I swear I won’t tell Randy! Please man, I am SO bored,” Troy was bargaining, but Jonathan was standing arms crossed. 

“N-”

“He’s cool,” You interjected, half-wondering why you did, half-wondering if it was even worth it. 

You were even more untrustworthy than Troy, if the resistance-based ranking was anything to go by. But the warehouse had removed any semblance of social constructs. Plus, Jonathan was cool like that. You were pretty sure you had a voice to be heard in here.

“Y/N-” Jonathan whined, before immediately giving in, hands held up either side of his head, “Whatever, but if you tell Randy about this- you’re dead to me,” 

Well, that was easy. 

He turned and made his way back to the sofa. This was just the window of opportunity that Troy needed. 

“God you ARE an angel Y/N,” he shamelessly flirted, refilling your drink for you and smirking at the way you rolled your eyes, “I always knew it-”

“Please,” You scoffed, but you were smiling, “You didn’t even know I existed til last month,” 

“What can I say? When you know, you know-” 

You only laughed and playfully shoved him, not daring to break eye contact for more than a second, when Clockwork’s hooting caught you off guard, 

“TRUTH OR DARE MOTHERFUCKERS!”

///

SO there you were, bunched up in a circle with eleven candidates who were running to rule the Nation, and two resistance members who were running from the Nation itself. 

Talk about an unlikely group of friends.

You were sitting like highschoolers, giggling and necking back now watered-down drinks,

“Dare,” Brian had said proudly, drunk again despite claiming he’d never drink again as long as he lived, 

“I dare you to prank call one of the admin-” Zero grinned, sliding forward a burner phone- completely untrackable and used only for calls outside of the warehouse. 

Brian, who was typically level-headed and mature, was invincible tonight, and in seconds, the sound of Candypop’s chilling voice crooned down the line. 

If you hadn’t been as drunk as you were, you’d have cowered in fear. 

But here you were, talking about him like he was nothing but an annoying neighbour,

“This guy’s a fucking piece of work,” you explained to Troy, who looked confused at everyone’s mixed reactions (Tim had taken off upstairs to smoke, Ben and Toby had fallen to the floor in fits of laughter). 

You and Troy had been partners in crime since you bought him in here, and despite the seethes of Liu across the room, you were kinda having the time of your life with him. 

Candypop was clearly pissed off. Shocker. 

“I’m in an important call right no-”

“Sir,” Brian pinched the bridge of his nose, enough to create a distorted, high-pitched voice that made Clockwork and Nina hop up and walk to the edge of the room so their squeals of laughter wouldn’t sink through the phone lines, 

“Who is this?!” Candypop snapped, 

“Sir…” Brian said.

With every 'Sir' that left his mouth, you felt lighter. It was like Candypop was an old teacher and the group of you were prank-calling him after four years of hell, 

“Sir…" he said again, and by now, everyone was desperately choking down laughter, "is your refrigerator running?”

You and Helen, who had been sitting at your other side, were gripping each other, soundlessly cackling. You buried your face into his shoulder to stifle the sound, and he had his fingers lost in your hair to keep you close. 

“My refrig- of course it is. Why?” Candypop snapped.

Four seconds of silence. And then, 

“Well, you better go and catch it!”

Brian hung up the phone, and you swore the laughter could have taken down the building.

//

“Truth or dare, sweetheart?”

Oh god, how did you end up here?

The two of you were drunk. Put it like that. 

You were far past holding inhibition. He was far past giving up on you. 

The two of you were young, and the impending doom of the war was wearing you out. 

You needed something fun. 

Something fun in the form of big blue eyes and a smile like dandelions. Something fun named Troy Green. 

Sure, you had started off seeing him as a thorn in your side, but over the weeks, and especially tonight, he had grown on you like vines around a cobblestone house. 

The two of you were flowers in two separate gardens across two separate galaxies, and it was pure chance and luck that your paths were crossing right now. 

But that was all they were doing. Crossing.

And right here, right now, was the point where you would meet in the middle. 

So a few drinks after a disastrous game of twister that ended with Toby’s bad leg taking him down and Clockwork playing dirty, when everyone had lost themselves in bowls of doritos and conversations that only live in the early hours, you found yourself on the sofa, tangled up in Troy. 

Jonathan, Ben, Nina and Brian had started a medley of boybands- One Direction and 5 Seconds of Summer and The Vamps- and Tim and Jeff had retired upstairs, the former too done with everyone’s shit and the latter too sober for it. 

Troy was just as drunk as you, and the conversation was taken over by laughter, driven by the butterflies you had let loose from their cage just for tonight. 

You learned a lot about him through anecdotes of him and his two friends. He apologized for Randy’s intimidating glares and Keith’s looming stares, claiming that he knew they were borderline crazy, but they were the only friends that he had. 

And the best part of it all?

He knew nothing about you. 

To Troy, you were not the Operator’s daughter. You were not the Nation’s princess. 

You were Y/N, the girl he had a crush on. 

Be it under any other circumstance, he would still do this. 

Something about it made you feel real.

You could see this exact situation play out in a high school movie, with the red cups and the old music serenading you and giving you the fantasy you always wanted, but could never have.

You felt high- either from the atmosphere or the fact you hadn’t stopped laughing since you sat down. Troy Green had to rival Ben as one of the funniest guys you had ever met. And to top it all off, he was interesting. 

Like, sure, he was a resistance kid, but his mom worked in a cake shop! He was decorating sponges and piping icing long before he was learning how to throw grenades. 

(“You’re the heir to the Nation, I’m the heir to Debbie’s Delights” he laughed; “I’m jealous” you grinned)

Somewhere along the road, he laced his fingers with yours, and the two of you had turned to tracing hearts on each other’s skin.

God, who were you?

Liu had noticed. He walked past you to get a drink and locked eyes with you, and then stormed upstairs, an anger in his eyes that made the line between him and his brother grow thin. 

Whatever. His jealousy was his problem to deal with. What were you supposed to do? Keep yourself celibate until he was ready? No way. 

So no, you didn't hesitate when Troy said “Truth or dare, sweetheart,”

“Dare,” you grinned, twirling your hair,

“I dare you to kiss me,”

///

It wasn’t your first kiss, but it was a pretty damn good third. 

You kissed him hard, like you were trying to prove to him you were worth all the hassle of vying for your attention in the end. 

Troy didn’t need convincing one bit. 

He kissed you back, immediately tugging you forward to straddle his lap. By this point, everyone was either too drunk to notice or too caught up in their own talks to care. Plus, with the way the sofa was angled, no one could see a thing. The two of you were completely out of the way to wandering eyes. 

His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and in seconds it turned from exploratory to adventurous. You had never had such an insatiable urge to kiss someone like that, and he was like putty in your hands. 

He dipped his chin to press kisses along your jawline and neck, and you gasped softly, losing your fingers in his soft brown hair. 

He actually groaned. 

Heat immediately shot through your entire body for the third time in the past 24 hours. Seriously, the world was itching for you to get some. 

And just when you thought you might get lucky with the absolute ray of sunshine in front of you, the door swung open. 

The two of you separated in milliseconds, but his swollen lips and desperate eyes didn’t leave you once. 

In the doorway stood Randy and Keith, both in pajamas. 

You noticed how Randy was wearing a shirt that looked at least 3 sizes too big for him, and then noted how it just so happened to be the same size as the one that fit Keith perfectly right now. 

Yep. They were totally fucking. 

Ben owed you 5 dollars.

The rest of them rushed around to see who had been at the door, failing to acknowledge you and Troy in the process. 

Another win for you. 

You immediately locked eyes with Ben across the room, and watched as he mouthed a ‘you win’ in your direction. 

The entire place fell silent. The music was shut down, courtesy of Zero who actually had the sense to read a room. Everyone looked like mannequins, terrified to move, and you were half-expecting Randy to open fire on all of you. 

Instead, he just… sighed. 

And he walked right past you to pour himself a drink, necking it back before gesturing to you all as if you had been the weird ones for watching him. 

Jonathan took this as a free-for-all to continue the party, and if Randy had any problems with it, he didn’t show it. 

So that’s what you did. You partied like the world was going to end. Because with the way things were looking, it wasn't too unlikely. 

Chapter Text

You should have known it was too good to be true. 

You had grown accustomed to feeling secure without consequence. You had grown too fond of the old warehouse and its peeling white walls. 

You had let the comfort consume you. 

It was almost as though the war outside the place had belonged to somewhere else- somewhere far away.  But it didn’t. It was only waiting for you, brewing like a storm upon your shelter. 

The last night you had together was legendary. 

You had run out of alcohol. That’s how it started. The once overbearing amount had dwindled over the week, spreading evenly among the three separate resistance totally-not-parties in the basement. What once seemed like an abundant amount had been reduced to a single, half-full bottle of wine. 

It had been claimed by Randy, who explained that it was a symbol of your gratitude to him and his master plans. 

He took it to his room without a second thought. 

Jonathan still proposed a party. 

There had been claims and protests of that being impossible without the influence of alcohol, but he was having none of it (“If you need to be drunk to have a good night, that seems like a you problem,” he had retorted). 

So in an attempt to prove yourselves worthy to your local god of celebration, all of you agreed.

It had led to you sitting in the main lounge, singing along to the 2000s music blaring through the speaker. It had felt like some sort of campfire singalong rather than a party, but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Your legs hadn’t left Troy’s lap, and his soft hands drummed along to the beats against your skin. 

The two of you had become woven like a wicker basket within this spring fling of yours. It was all coming up roses and dandelions lately. 

Everyone else was spread out around the sofas or sitting on the floor, except Toby, who was propped up on a beanbag, his leg finally free from his cast and his smile brighter than ever. Ben and Jonathan were trying to invent a saying for the group of you. Jonathan insisted that all the cool gangs had one. It had to be something that boosted morale, something you could all come back to when you needed something to believe in. 

Keith had suggested making a play out of the “first shot fired” newspaper headline that the Admin had coined at the beginning of the war. Everyone was now racking through their brains, trying to finish the slogan.

“Last shot’s ours?” Brian suggested, 

“No, we need an L word,” Jonathan said,

“Last shot’s luck?” Nina chimed in
“Last shot’s… loud?” said Toby. 

“Last shot’s… god why is this so HARD?” Clockwork groaned. 

A few more suggestions were lazily thrown out, most of which made no sense at all and only fared to make the room burst into laughter.

But then Ben shot up with that Ben Drowned grin on his face,

“I’ve got it! First shot fired, last shot’s lethal,” 

It wasn’t perfect, but it got the message across. 

So that was it decided. Your motto for this war. 

///

At around midnight, you found yourself entranced in the story of Jonathan and Zero. How their ancestors suffered without proof of conviction. How they had trained themselves to steal food from markets and bakeries. How they had survived on nothing but luck and pure vengeance. 

Helen chimed in, sharing his story (which you already knew) with the others. He explained the process of becoming the token resistance kid of the trials, and how many tests and procedures he had to undergo to be deemed ‘safe to present to the nation’. 

He told you of the prejudice and discrimination thrown at him on his way to the rankings. How the elites themselves advocated against his right to be included as a candidate. 

The only reason he got in was because they needed to save their faces. Because their war could only exist if they did. 

This started a chain reaction. 

You found out a lot about them.

Liu and Jeff had grown up in the same neighborhood as Randy, Keith, and Troy. The three of them had bullied the brothers for their pro-nation background, and in Liu’s snarky terms, “got their karma,” 

It was a petty remark, but the trio didn’t pay it any attention. Troy leaned in closer to you and muttered something about being grateful he got HIS Karma. 

You giggled like a schoolgirl. That was definitely not the response Liu was going for. 

Randy stayed quiet and focused on Keith’s anecdotes about the situation, laughing their history off as though Jeff and Liu weren’t inches from ending their blood feud to go for his throat. 

You discovered Brian was an older brother. You weren’t surprised.

It had been aired during the post-trial interview when his little brother had waved to him from the crowd, but the rest of you were still trapped in your trials, and couldn’t witness it. 

He told you all about how he had grown up with bitterness for him, but upon everything that happened between then and now, he had shed it for a skin of longing. 

Ben had said something about wishing Brian was HIS older brother, and how lucky Brady was. 

You swore you had never seen Brian so happy. 

You had found out that Clockwork had been bought and sold by Elite’s commission, who had tormented and trained her to become the perfect little assassin. She couldn’t remember her family. She opened up more and explained how her goal was to ultimately take them down from the inside, sleeper agent style, to prevent them from getting their hands on another naive kid who would do anything for a place to sleep. 

Toby went into depth about his conditions, and mentioned his big sister again- the one who he had lost in the car accident when he was young. Lyra. He spoke of her like she was the sun in the sky and the grass beneath his feet, eyes sparkling and fingers twitching with palpable excitement.

You wish you could have met her. 

Nina told you all about her brother. Jane opened up about her parents. Jack mentioned his dreams of becoming a doctor. 

It was bittersweet, discovering everyone and their backgrounds. The sweetness came from the friendship, the bitterness came from the knowledge that without this war, that friendship would have been nothing but hatred. 

It was here that you felt the weight of your ancestor’s crimes, coming to you in the form of piercing strikes through your heart. 

So many of them had come from a life of struggle. So many of them were fighting to just have some freedom. 

The conversation right now centered around a story where Jonathan had got he, Helen, and Zero caught by sneaking around the wrong place in town, and asking one of the Nation’s guards if he had anything to eat.

“It was one time!” he defended, but the two of them sprung onto him like a mousetrap,

“It was once a WEEK!” Zoe threw her head back, “We’d get grounded for days because he couldn't keep himself in the base for more than three hours!”

“He hasn’t changed,” Helen laughed, and Jonathan threw a pillow at his head in defense. 

And yeah, sure, it was funny to join in laughing with the others, noting how half of them related to the struggle of cold bases and regimented routines, and how the other half looked on in horror at the conditions they lived in, asking questions about what it was really like over on their side of the world.

You, however, could do neither of these things. 

Your family was the reason they were asking these questions. Your family was the reason they had these stories to tell. 

They were the only ones who could have undone it, and generation after generation, they chose not to. 

You, as a result, had been their representation- their symbol of ignorance. You knew that beneath their laughter was anger, and you could only imagine how it burned. 

When you became The Operator, you swore you would make it up to all of them, and everyone else who had suffered at the hands of your ancestors.  

Yeah. When.

Toward the end of the night, Zero had offered to refill your drink of Diet Coke. 

It was a barely recognizable gesture. She looked you in the eye for what must have been the first time and asked “You want more?”

You nodded. 

And that was it. 

The last hour was spent dancing. 

Of course, it was. It was Jonathan conducting it, after all. Who was he without his zest for life, and making the most out of every single moment he had? 

Music you had grown up with blared through the speakers. Dancing in the Moonlight, Mr. Brightside, Hips Don’t Lie, and of course, ABBA. 

Most of you were on your feet, with the obvious exceptions of Tim, Randy, and Jeff, whose pride was too high to even dare let them move from their sofas.

Keith was singing to Randy. You were spinning with Troy. Jonathan was giving Zero a piggyback. Helen was doing the same to Nina. Everyone was happy, in this sacred space where they could act their age. Everyone was infinite, in one way or another. 

And somehow, it was everything.

But it wasn’t enough.