The room reeked of sweat. Old anxieties leaked through the skin and into the 1950s upholstery. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead. It did little to clear the air. When the switch was flipped, it'd rained down cobwebs and a disgruntled brown recluse.

Augustine smashed it with a newspaper and frowned at the guts. He flicked them with an article about a terrorist attack and watched them sprawl on the rug in two pieces. They blended in with the burn scars from dozens of old cigars. Someone had put a vase of lilies in the middle of the table, old mourning flowers. They looked distinctly out of place, and their odor made his headache worse.

The room was silent. That bothered him. Silence was good for thought, but not just his. The others were using that silence too, thinking, deliberating. He wanted them doing neither. He wanted them making bad decisions on the edge of a second, on a time scale thinner than the hundred dollar pill perched between the chips. Instead he could see their eyes riveted on their cards. Bad poker faces. Too much tension, not enough twitch. They couldn't play casual the way he could.

He needed the dough. Dough meant bread, bread meant a little more time to find a job. It wasn't his fault he'd been laid off. The immigrants were always working for less. He took pay cut after pay cut until it broke him and he snapped. They released him for his cheek and for asking to be treated like a real man, not like them illegals posing as American. He hated the guy that'd taken his job. He dreamed so hard of killing him he could see it in his head clear as day.

Augustine dealt the last of the cards with a sneer. Even his name sounded pretentious. Like his mother and father were trying to deny their own slumming by forcing their kid to be a snot. All it ever got him was a black eye. He always knew they could have done better, but they were too busy throwing out their cash on whimsy to care about anything but the here and now. He was sick of the here and done with the now. He wanted a then with less pain and a future with more freedom.

He'd get it with the damned cards if he had to.

Ronaldo drummed his fingers against the table. It was the only part of him that moved, because his eyes didn't have to. His hand wasn't the best and wasn't the worst. It was the middle-ground, and he was used to that. His work broke his back but it was better than resorting to peddling drugs or people. He wanted to be better than that. Bigger than that. He didn't want the sins of his father to bleed down into his own skin.

Augustine didn't like him; he could smell that in a man. He could see it in his beady eyes and in the sweat gleaming off his brow. Every time he looked up he got a sneer. Men like him were the reason he always kept a baseball bat in his truck.

He shuffled his cards. Shuffled them again, playing them back and forth between his fingers. He gave the others a smirk that was meant to be cocky. Both glared. They looked ready to strangle him, and he wondered what they had on the table besides the chips. What they were gambling against. He wondered if they had a kid out there too, who wanted a present for his third birthday. Wondered if they wanted to get him a big gift this time since they couldn't be there in person.

He knew his son would rather have him there, but he couldn't grant that yet. Not if he wanted dough to put the bread on his belly.

Ronaldo flicked his eyes to a spider skittering across the table. Brown recluse, it was. Nasty things whose bites left rotting bruises. He crushed it, scattered it, and turned back to the others again. There was a faint pain in his chest, sharp like heartburn, and he thumped it with a fist distractedly.

Azrael watched his opponents quietly. The spider clambered to life again and wandered towards the table's leg, and his eyes traced it as the others sweated over their dead man's hands. It rose up and bit Augustine in the leg but he didn't feel it. Of course he wouldn't. Dead men didn't tend to be aware of much besides what'd killed them. Even then, Ronaldo was still oblivious to the blood flooding his shirt, and Augustine clueless that half of his skull was caved in.

The angel of death looked up at the clock and sighed. It would be a long sit, this poker game in purgatory.

He tossed in his chips with a click.

"I'll raise you."

Maybe.

Translations:

Kochanie- Darling

Tak- Yes

Rosie shop- Tea shop

Diamond Arena

3:00

Emily Lyzsowa, Team 2, Polish

I'm in the arena with my weapons. A sturdy, lightweight fan equipped with daggers that acts like a shield and an ebony wand. I face my opponent, Leanne Orib, a small girl with shoulder-length black hair with two long tresses floating out apart from the others, and a greenish-purplish set of narrow eyes behind round wire glasses. She has a keyboard and a game console in the air next to her. Her weapons.

The ref is up there in the podium stand, all white and black. He blows his whistle and yells, "GO!"

I immediately hold my shield-fan near my face for protection and whip up a shield spell that goes into effect right before Leanne's first attack hits me. It's as if I'm transported into a video-game world. There's a pixelated haze and I see a thin world, created by a mastermind.

I can barely see Leanne through the screen. Her eyes are even more narrowed behind her glasses, her hands typing furiously at the keyboard. Then a smirk grows on her face and she lets the keyboard rest, picking up the game console instead.

I focus on the screen again. It's almost like a candyland- a deadly candyland with sugar-bone skeletons and a caramel sea like quicksand. I'm thrown into the world as soon as I move.

Sugar skeletons come towards me. One wave of my wand and their arrows turn to dust. Their bones crack. I smile. I step up to the destroyed skeleton and pick up a bone, bringing it to my lips and staring at Leanne with a twisted smile. "What's next, kochanie'~?"

Leanne's face is unreadable. She taps her keyboard and suddenly, I'm in the caramel quicksand sea. A few candy logs float, but they're all hundreds of feet apart. I feel myself slowly sinking down and almost struggle. I wave my wand and the caramel around my feel disappears for a moment. I quickly jump to the nearest candy log and balance on it, looking past the screen to Leanne. She's busy with the game console. Must be planning something.

I realise that I can't keep being on the defensive. While Leanne is preoccupied with planning my grisly defeat, I take my fan and throw it at the keyboard, one of the knives hitting the "delete all". The screen in front of me fizzles out and once again, I'm standing on the floor of the arena.

I smirk as Leanne glares at me. She picks up the game console and presses a button. The tiny gray console turns into a huge machine gun. A small smirk is on Leanne's face.

I wave my wand and my fan whisks back to me, skimming Leanne's cheek in the process. She clasps a hand to her cheek, blood staining her hand, her eyes furious.

I smirks again, fanning myself. "Had enough, kochanie?"

She starts firing the machine gun.

I barely have time to backflip away as the space where I had been standing was riddled with bullets. Leanne slowly scours the area, following me with hailing bullets from her machine gun.

Then I start going on the offense. I flip off the walls then flip off Leanne, dodging bullets and slowly coming closer to Leanne. I throw my fan. It slices through the air and hits Leanne's hood, pinning her to the wall. She continues firing her machine gun, though, so I think.

I dodge the bullets and shoot spells at her. Soon enough, she's immobilised and the machine gun lays at her feet. Her eyes shoot daggers at me. At least I actually have daggers.

The referee blows his whistle after an intense staredown that lasts a minute between Leanne and I.

"The victor of this match is... Team 2's Emily Lyzsowa! Team 2 is now in first place!"

I smirk as the crowd begins to disperse, walking over to the immobilised Leanne and giving her a pat to the head. "Good game, kochanie! Tea shop later?"

She hesitates, glaring at me, then nods. "Now unpin me."

I laugh and shake my head. "Nah. It'll wear off." I walk suavely out of the arena.

Team 6 Dorm

4:15

Julia-Anne Winchester, Team 6, British

I'm sitting on the floor besides the entrance to the dorm building, listening to music on my iPod and looking outside at the sunny sky. I look up as Leanne enters the dorm building, a dangerous glare on her face. "Hey! How'd the match go?"

She glares at me. "Julia-Anne Winchester. That Lyzsowa girl. Is. So. Mean. Why. Do. We. Even. Like. Her."

I laugh, standing up and walking with her to her dorm. "Haha. Because she's smart and awesome? I don't know." Changing the topic, I say, "I guess you lost, then?"

Whoops. Bad idea.

Leanne fakes a punch at me and I dodge, eyes wide in fear. "Bloody hell, Leanne! What was that for?" She lets out a growl but smiles.

"Hey, Lea, is the rosie-shop - or tea-shop, I guess - thingy still on? I hope this hasn't soured things between you and Em," I venture nervously.

She snorts. "Boy, things have soured. But it's still on, yes."

I smile. "Okie-dokie! Go take a shower, change or something." I pump my fist into the air, grinning. "Time for the rosie-shop!"

As she enters her dorm, I backtrack to mine. Entering, I see that everyone's out to the battles at the arenas. I smile. All to myself!

I brush my hair and style it for fun, pinning all sorts of things onto it. Then I take out my whip and go outside to see if my hairstyle could survive through a battle.

Turns out, it can't.

I decide to restyle it and wear my hair down for the rosie shop visit. Better look pretty!

Wintry Tea Shop

5:00

Leanne Orib, Team 3, Academy-Native

I enter the tea shop, warily glancing around. Wintry Tea Shop was known as one of the shadiest places to eat, though it was clean, pretty, and right next to Diamond, the biggest and most popular arena in the Academy. I'm dressed in a purple velvet skirt up to my thighs and a pretty little violet sweater on top of a green tank-top.

I look around and immediately spot Julia and Emily at a small round table with three little white chairs. Julia's waving her arm frantically at me, much like a monkey of some sort, while Emily is sitting there primly with a small smirk on her face.

I sit down next to Julia, never taking my eyes off Emily. She looks elegant and modern at the same time, as always. A black skirt with gems on the side adorns her legs as well as black knee-high laced-up boots, while she sports a small white satin jacket over a black tank-top on her torso. I wonder why her outfit matches mine so well.

Julia's look is completely different. She's dressed as she was an hour ago, when I last saw her, in a pair of aqua shorts and a lacy turquoise shirt. Julia wears a big smile, completely contrasting Emily's dark smirk.

We order, and soon enough, a small, fancy white tray carrying all sorts of little treats come over to our table. I daintily pick up a small sandwich and bite into it, feeling the refreshing flavors Wintry was known for wash over my tongue.

Julia's eyes light up and she quickly snatches a crumpet off the tray, nibbling at it and closing her eyes in bliss. Emily watches this all with faint amusement, not yet taking any food.

I finish the sandwich and wipe my mouth with my napkin, still looking at Emily over the table. Finally, I break the silence and ask, "Why aren't you eating?"

Emily looks at me, a small smile on her face. "Wonderful observation. I am not that hungry, but anyways, you do know that people have been murdered here in Wintry?"

Julia almost drops her crumpet. I roll my eyes.

"Poison in the food meant for somebody is often given to another." Emily smiles. It's not a nice smile. "I would have rather stayed alive."

Then she breaks into laughter at the look on Julia's face. I try not to smile, but end up giggling behind my hand.

Through chuckles, Emily says, "Julia, Julia, I was merely jesting. Do continue your crumpet." She smiles and explains, "I really am not that hungry. I ate right after my battle, since I was famished back then." Emily looks at me and winks.

I feel my face grow hot and look downwards, refusing to meet her silver eyes. I hear another small laugh from Emily.

"Now," she says, eyes sparkling in amusement, "enough of this. Let us order some tea, tak?" Emily waves a waiter over and mutters something to him in Polish. The waiter nods and saunters away.

I narrow my eyes suspiciously at her. "What did you say?" Emily's father was from Poland but her mother was born at the Academy. Her last name isn't true Polish, but it has an Academy twinge to it. She does know Polish fluently, and communicates with fellow Poles like that. Ugh.

Emily smiles mysteriously, twirling her hair around her finger. "Wait and see, kochanie."

The waiter returns with a pot of a sweet-smelling tea, pouring cups for us. "Zimowym na Lesie Herbaty. Tea of the Winter Forest."

I take a sip and close my eyes, letting the flavors wash over me. Suddenly, I feel myself getting sleepy. "Emily? Did you...put something...in this tea?"

I faintly saw Emily smirk as my eyes fluttered closed. "Why would you think that, kochanie?"

Julia's laughter rang brightly through the haze of sleepiness that had fallen upon me. "Of course she did! We'll do whatever we want, eh~?" Julia giggled.

Julia too? I thought. Then I blacked out.

______________________________________________________________

I don't know where I was going with this.

It was crazy, based off a dream I had one day.

If you squint, you can see hints of slightly twisted romance. But not really.

:3

The first time I made love with Jenny happened to be the first night we met as well. It also happened to be in the last year of my life, although I did not know that at the time. Even if I had known that little fact, I would not have changed anything about that first night together; save, perhaps telling her that ‘I loved her’ out loud instead of keeping it to myself.

Yet, I should not regret, even that. There could have always been a chance that if I had, it would have been too much, too soon and she would have pushed me right away. Still, a part of me does regret it that her ears didn't hear those words from me even then, at the start, at our near beginning.

Ironically, the last thing I was looking for that night was a chance to hook up. I was still in the process of untangling all of the hooks still embedded into my soul from my previous train wreck of a relationship. When I first saw Jenny, I intended to avoid her at all costs, because it was obvious she was on a mission to hook up with someone. She had that look in her eye, she gave off the vibe, and she was dressed to kill anyone that was lucky enough to get her out of that dress.

The only reason I took the plunge with Jenny was because she was settling on a frienemy of mine. I would have tried to save the ugliest and most cruel woman on the planet from that fate. Luckily Jenny was on the opposite end of the spectrum.

Even now, as my life left the body that now lies there as an empty shell, I remember that first night together. How she just felt in my arms. How she just clicked into my very soul. How all of the hooks I was trying to untangle in my life simply ceased to be. I remember how scared out of my mind I was to finally find true love and it was with a woman that seemed to have wanted just a one night stand. I remember how I initially feigned falling asleep just so I could hold on to her tenderly for as long as I could. I could remember how wonderful it was to wake up with her still snuggled against me the next morning.

And I remember how everyday after that one, was better than the day before, because everyday after that one she became more entwined in my life. Funny that now that I am dead, the only regret I have is that I didn’t tell her I loved her from the very start. Because, somehow, magically, I did...

***

“Father, Jennifer Cromwell is here to see you now.”

Little Jenny Cromwell. How long has it been since the last time I saw her? 5 years? Closer to 10. When was the last time I saw her in a mass? At least that long. I wonder what woe brings her to me now. Can I dare hope that she has returned to the fold? I guess I will soon find out.

“Thank you, Mary, you can send her in now.”

A few moments later the door opened and there she was. I cannot help but smile, even as I can see the pain so plainly on her face. I am grateful that she is not trying to hide it. I am so glad she is giving me a chance to help her through whatever she needs help with.

The last time I saw Jenny, she was still a teen, had her hair cut short and half blue, and in our exchange she said she would miss me but she was done with God. Now she was a woman grown, hair much longer, but a wisp of it was still dyed the same shade of blue. How odd that it is seeing that wisp that starts a smile to my lips. So many long discussions with her parents trying to make them understand that hair is just hair, that it is her soul they need to fret about.

I stand and smile toward her warmly. Without hesitation she walks quickly around the desk and hugs me fiercely. It is a hug, long overdue. I return it kindly and with a bit of surprise. I let it linger for as long as she needs it. I can feel her holding back her tears. I can feel her deep seated pain. This was going to be a hard meeting, for both of us. I hated losing her so long ago. It feels like she is only here on the thinnest of threads. This poor girl needs as much compassion as I can spare, I just hope it is enough.

Jenny finally breaks the hug, wipes her eyes with an arm and moves back around the desk to take a seat.

“So,” I begin to ask, then change the question midstream, “how have you been Jenny? It is so good to see you.”

“Wonderful. Terrible. All over the place, really, Father Ken. I’m so sorry…”

“There is nothing at all to be sorry about, Jenny. We each have our path to follow in life. I am just glad yours crossed mine again. I have missed our talks.”

“I am sure that is not true,” Jenny answered, distracted, ”I was usually questioning everything.”

“And is it not alright to question? How can one grow without finding answers to their questions? You always had a honest heart and I never minded the questions, Jenny, even if I knew you wouldn’t like the answers I gave.”

I watch her cringe at that. I can see the look in her eyes that she fears she will not like my answers now. The pause became silence and then became awkward. She wanted to ask something but couldn’t bring herself to.

“So what does bring you to see me, Jenny. What is so terrible that you are afraid to ask me?”

“I want...I need to get married, Father Ken. I want...I would like it if you would marry us…”

I laugh, rich and deeply. I am happy as I can be to hear this, even though there are obviously things to work through. I am about to say my congratulations to her and ask when I get to meet the young man to begin, when she cuts me off.

“...and I need to get married soon, today if possible. We do not have much time left. I’ll do anything you want, I’ll even do confession...I...we just need this. He would have come if he could...”

Jenny cries. In a fit all of her woe spills out like a fountain. It breaks my heart, even as I try to process everything she just told me. I know her well enough to let her have her space. I wait for her to work through the tears.

For her to be willing to do confession, that is telling. She hated the practice. That something she has to do for herself, it is not for me. Strange that she brings it up. The desperation in her demeanor. There is true need there.

“Why so soon, Jenny, even though I am fearful of your answer.”

“Because he is dying, because the love of my life is dying and I need to be his wife before he does.”

“Well, I guess you need to introduce me to him so I can see if he is worthy to marry you.” I leave all of the rest unsaid. Her soul is invested into this. I know I probably will marry her now anyway, I just hope the boy she has fallen in love with is worthy of her.

Jenny laughs with joy and relief. Then she surprises me by beginning confession on her own. I wasn’t going to force it upon her. Even in her state, I wasn’t even going to ask for it.

I listen to it, I weep for her on the inside as I cheer for her on the inside. She believes she is doing it for me, but I can see the weight of it all lift off of her. Some day I hope I get to ask her if she felt it too.

One of the most bittersweet moments of my life was marrying Jenny to the love of her life, Mark. Upon the moment I met him, I understood her need with crystal clarity. Never in my service to God has I been happier to marry two people together.

The saddest moment of my life, was giving Mark his last rites two days later. I honestly believe I wept just as hard as Jenny did. This boy changed her life and their time together was too short.

***

I stand in front of the congregation of family and friends. I see Father Ken hovering toward my side, waiting to swoop in to take over if I falter. I cannot falter. I close my eyes and still feel Mark all around me. I take a breath and begin.

“The first time I met Mark, my husband, he saved me, although I didn’t know it yet. I was on a path of self-destruction. I wanted to self-destruct. He swept in and saved me, like an angel.

“I remember the first time he told me he loved me. We were laying together for the first time," I gulp at the admission, considering where I am standing, and everyone I am speaking to, "He was half asleep. He not only meant every word, I felt each word tattooed to my soul…”

(Excerpt from a book/story I've been working on. Slightly re-worded to better fit the perspective needs of this challenge. I think it may have made the scene better. )

-=[VALMAK]=-

He knew Stack had fallen asleep and barely noticed the water cooling in the tub, until there was a loud clack of sound followed by shattering glass from somewhere else around the house. It startled her-- he knew because he could feel it as he reached out to the cells in her body, forcing her out of the tub while he grabbed a robe for her from the other room. He kept her mouth shut and vocals frozen but gave her control over the rest of her body as she regained her awareness.

“Put this on and stay away from the windows. This is the safest house on the Island, that I know of, but she can still break the windows out.” ValMak said as he walked into the bathroom and tossed her the large white cotton robe. Immediately bending down to tie the boots he's started to put back on, he released her from his control entirely. Another clack and shatter punctuating his point before Stack could take the breath to reply.

“Who?”

“Cameron Ashcroft, she's the only one I know who's been on this Island longer than I have.. and... the last few rounds haven't been kind to her-- though at least she hasn't died again.” He reflected in a pause as he stood up and glanced at the buxom brunette stranger still digesting the fact that he came from a different reality, in a different time, than she.

“Wait, she's died and came back to life?”

“She.. heals, look I don't have time to explain-” As he spoke another window was broken, he watched Stacks confusion morph into angered irritation. “Just stay out of sight, if she doesn't know you're here that's a good thing.” He assured her, giving her a nod and turning to leave.

“Why don't you just use your ability on her?”

“Because she could teleport me from this house and hunt me down, or just wait until I release her to hunt me-- I can't hold her forever.” He replied a little tiredly, pausing again in a half turn to face her.

“The Island gave her a trigger for your... implant, and you pissed her off?”

“No, the Island didn't, she learned it from a man who died a few days ago, last of us beside me and her.” He growled, gritting his teeth as another window shattered. “Please.” He offered in a final plea for her to stay put as he turned from the back bathroom toward the front porch of the house. The closer he got the more he could hear the little crazy woman yelling for him to come out. “Alright!" He shouted as he opened the door and pushed the screen door hard enough to smack it against the wall, "But I swear if you try to attack me I'll let you hunt me down and I'll kill you in the worst of ways.”

-=[CAMERON]=-

“You have any know to the pains I've been done-snuffed Juju?!” Cameron shouted in the sometimes hard to comprehend jumble-tongue, throwing another rock to break another window just because she could. She watched his behemoth body walk to the edge of the steps with a primal grace she hated and loved to see.

“What do you want Cam? I stayed out of it last time and you're still ready to rip my head off.”

“Point, you outswayed the round, I had the think we're reckoned as tandem-walkers.” She snapped with a bit of scorn, tossing her head to the side like a twitchy animal, subtle snarl and all.

“You're a lunatic! You're manipulative and impulsive and you don't listen for shit. You've been doing things your way so long you don't know how to be someone's partner.”

“You bruise my red-pumper, Juju.” She quipped with mocked sadness as he descended the steps to face her head on. Every part of him screamed controlled lethality and irritation-- an intimidating sight for most but Cameron stood her ground like a brick wall, even as he barked back at her. Dark eyes scanned him over, noting that as usual, he didn't really bother with weapons.

“Quit calling me that, you have no right!”

“Stone you and your ritual-kind, it's non-purpose on this sea-mountain peak. You blink through four cycles-- fireworks to you, but my continuum's gone up-side twenty-- and never to my know there been a Nolander but you, Juju. Sos no ritual-kind swoopers to shield your hyde. Your back-age doing and faiths are absent matter, exceptioned-single for no-knows-what the Makers thunder up on the lot; AND coin-flip you missed the print... got a baker's half of new mopes in effect, not the duck-down in your box." She pointed out, gesturing to the house like she knew he was hiding one of the new arrivals in there, even though the Island wouldn't let her enter that particular house. "This earth mass hasn't homed nine, back times the Hunt, pre your landing, and all swears on me, it was a red-wash.” The black haired woman cussed at him up onto her toes. Cameron had no qualms getting right up into his chest, staring up at his face like she was twice as tall as she was.

“Why do I feel like you helped make it that way?”

“Mayhaps on me, but dues to the Makers touch. This land spawns the torment, eats on friction.” Cam reasoned with a snake-like swivel of her head to give her words motion.

“I think you like it here and --”

“Cut yer tongue!” She snapped, interrupting him and pushing him with more strength than most women her size would have had, enough to make him take a step back and growl at her which only riled her more. Nearly black eyes locked on him as she coiled ready to fight, but held still long enough to let him speak.

“Then work WITH me to counter the Island's tactics, not feed into them!”

-=[STACK]=-

“You should watch who you're pushing.” Stack said from the doorway, standing in the cotton robe tied tight around her body, immediately getting the attention of both of them as she squinted, surprised to find it daylight outside. Stack felt short beside ValMak but looking at him in front of the woman he called Cameron, she could have been mistaken for a child. She stayed in the shade of the porch and visually inspected the little woman's fighting stance while she let her own arms dangle at her sides.

“Juju's tandem to squint-looker there?”

“You spend as much time in dark alleys," Stack began, not allowing ValMak the chance to answer Cameron's question to him, " hotels, houses, cabs, bars, brothels" she rambled off crossing the porch to the steps, "and basements as I have-- with eyes as blue as mine-- and see if you don't squint when the sun comes up." She swallowed her anger and let her casual nonchalance carry in both her tone and stride toward the duo. ValMak immediately sighing at her about his orders.

“I told you to stay inside.”

“She already knew I was in there, didn't see a point in hiding.” Stack reasoned, glancing between him and Cameron, lingering on the black eyed woman.

“What, no whites for my hyde? No terrors chill your spine to looker-lock my husk?”

"She doesn't look scary enough for you?"

“Thanks" She said to ValMak, knowing he must have caught her confusion and didn't hesitate to offer a translation. Looking back at Cam she smirked, "Oh I can tell you can hold your own Zombie-Xena but I've been breaking bodies since I was a child ... and it wouldn't take much to crumple you like an origami turtle.”

“Stop, both of you, this is exactly what I'm talking about.”

“Stop what? If she's a pain in your ass and a catalyst to the Island, why not break her neck, chop her into little pieces and bury th-” Stack's words were cut off as Cameron lunged at her with a heated vengeance she'd never seen in someone before. Instinct kicked in and she deflected, throwing the woman toward the ground and feeling her rip at the robe on the way down, exposing her injured left shoulder. Knowing that ValMak WOULD try to stop her, she swung her fist back and clocked him in the nose catching him off guard in a lean down and sending him to the ground in the other direction. Before Cameron could get back on her feet, Stack was on top of her, catching her fist and breaking her hand before crushing her windpipe with a swift precision strike. As Cameron's body convulsed with the devastation under her, Stack gripped her head and snapped her neck, glancing back to ValMak who was just getting up. “Seven hundred eighty three.”

“That your body count? You're going to need those skills, once she wakes up, you'll be her next target... You can try to cut her up and spread her pieces about, but I heard the Island put her back together and she killed the last person who tried it."

Stack's mind raced, blue eyes staring up at the large man who seemed as sad about what she did as he was curious of how she'd handle it. Her extended silence was broken by a final question and statement from him, one that would force her to look at her stay on the Island a lot differently.

"Can you come back from the dead? Because she's going to want to kill you.”

|| another-proser ||