Chapter Text
The beer can clanged as a bullet blasted through it and ripped it off the table. It clattered to the floor alongside a dozen other bullet-punctured cans.
Jeremy lowered his pistol with a soft exhale. Wind gusted across the empty lot as he reloaded his gun and raised it again. Three more cans sat on the table, labels glinting dully in the overcast daylight. Jeremy narrowed his eyes and aimed.
Bang
Another can skittered off the table, a fresh bullet hole torn through its aluminum side. Jeremy adjusted his aim several degrees, sights locked on the next beer can. His finger was beginning to squeeze the trigger when a strange sound made him look up.
The unmistakable whirring thrum of a helicopter was slowly growing louder.
Jeremy turned, scanning the cloudy skies. His gun snapped up as he caught sight of a helicopter closing in. He took a breath, waiting. He could almost see the silhouette of the pilot through the glass.
The helicopter turned as it swooped in, and Jeremy lowered his weapon with a sudden laugh. There was no mistaking the big green star emblazoned on the side of that aircraft. He slipped his pistol into its holster as the helicopter landed, the door already flung open before it touched the ground.
“What are you guys doing?” he called.
The crew was all packed into the cramped cockpit, shoulder to shoulder. Now that it was close enough to see through the glass, Jeremy could see Jack in the pilot’s seat.
“Get in, loser!” called Ryan. “It’s game night!”
“Great! What’s game night?”
Geoff was holding out his hand. “Fake AH Crew tradition! Come on in, everyone’s waiting!”
Jeremy grabbed Geoff’s hand, letting the man haul him into the crowded chopper. He flopped into the narrow space between Michael and Ryan as door was slammed shut and the chopper began to lift away from the ground.
“Jack —“ Jeremy leaned towards the cockpit. “I almost shot the shit out of you when I saw the chopper.”
“Oh jesus, the chopper would have crashed and everyone would have had to reset. Holy shit that would have been a pain.”
Jeremy peered out the window and watched as the city dropped away below them. “So what’s game night?”
Gavin was bouncing with excitement. “Ooooh Jeremy’s never played before!”
Michael elbowed him in the ribs, so hard Jeremy winced. “You’re gonna love it, game night is great.”
“How do we play?”
“First off, take a communicator.” Geoff pointed to the pile of what appeared to be handcuffs on the floor. “Take one of these too.”
“ … Okay…” Gingerly, Jeremy picked up a com and one of the cuffs. “And that’s for?”
“We’ll explain on the way. Take one of the boxes, and don’t open it yet.”
Jeremy shrugged. He put his com in, clipped the cuffs to his belt, and picked up a box. It was metal, heavier than it looked, and about large enough to hold a handgun. The rest of the crew were grabbing objects off the floor as well, each member taking a box, a com, and a pair of cuffs.
“If I get an empty again, I’m gonna be pissed,” huffed Ryan, glaring at his box as though it had wronged him.
Gavin pointed at Jeremy’s hip suddenly. “Oi, cheater! Jeremy’s cheating, you can’t bring that!”
Jeremy frowned. “ … I can’t bring my dick to game night?”
“The pistol, dumbass.” Geoff held out his hand. “No bringing weapons into the ring. You better leave that on the chopper.”
Jeremy sighed and pulled the holster off his belt, handing it over to Geoff. Geoff placed it on the floor, where the piles of gear used to be.
“So what’s this game we’re playing?” Jeremy pressed.
“Hang on.” Geoff slipped his com in his ear and pressed it. “Testing coms now. Testing.”
“Mine works,” said Gavin.
“Works.”
“Mine too.”
“Eyyyo!”
Each voice sounded off in Jeremy’s ear. He gave Geoff a thumbs-up. “All good.”
“Cool, coms work.” Geoff clapped his hands together. “We’re doing the warehouse map this time, guys! Got the cameras all fixed, so it’s ready to go again!”
“You’re welcome,” called Jack’s voice from the pilot’s seat.
“Oooh, that’s a good map. Big one, though.”
Jeremy glanced out the window. He could see the city receding in the distance as Jack flew them off into the rocky wilderness that surrounded it. “… Okay, so can someone tell me what game we’re playing?”
Geoff smiled behind his beard, clasped his hands, and leaned on them. “The game is called Murder.”
“Felonies aren’t games, Geoff.”
“Shut up, smartass. So Jack’s flying us to the site right now, she’s gonna drop us all off in different places and then she’s gonna join us. You’ll drop outside the warehouse, but once the game starts, you’re not supposed to leave it.”
“And what do I do in this warehouse?”
Geoff held up one finger. “Don’t die.” He held up another one. “Look for boxes like the one you started with. There’s good shit in ‘em.”
Jeremy’s heart skipped. “ … Don’t die?”
“Yeah. Pretty straightforward.”
“Okay, closing in on the first drop point,” called Jack from the pilot’s seat. Jeremy grabbed the wall for support as the aircraft lurched downwards. “Someone get ready.”
“Let Jeremy drop first,” suggested Michael. “It’s his first time.”
Geoff wrenched open the helicopter door, and the noise of chopping blades flooded the cockpit. The ground was blissfully close below.
“Wait, what?” Jeremy pulled back from the open door. “What does that mean?”
Jeremy wheezed as Michael gave him a hard shove in the back.
“It means get the fuck out of the chopper.”
Jeremy stumbled as he hit the ground, but kept his balance. He turned back to the helicopter, and the crew, to see them waving.
Geoff gave him a thumbs-up. “See you inside!”
Jeremy flung his arms out. “What’s the fucking game?”
The door closed and the aircraft began to lift away, aggressive chopping thrum growing quieter. Jeremy let his arms drop as he watched it sail away into the overcast sky. With a heavy sigh, he turned his gaze to his surroundings.
The city was a steely silhouette in the distance. Between Jeremy and the distant etchings of civilization stretched rocky terrain broken by scraggly trees, one or two dusty roads carving up the landscape. Clutching his box and handcuffs, Jeremy turned to face the warehouse. The structure was long since ruined, the old walls layered with graffiti, iron support beams exposed where concrete had cracked. Through the old doors and broken walls, he could see it stretching back, room after room into the darkness. Artificial lights glinted in the gloom, too crisp and clear to have been a part of the warehouse’s original installation. This space had been curated for a purpose.
Jeremy touched his com. “Uh. Testing?”
“Yeah, we hear you.”
“Okay, I’ve been dropped in the middle of nowhere with handcuffs and a mysterious box, will someone please explain what the hell we’re doing?”
“Right, everyone shut up —“
“Yeah, guys, shut the fuck up while Geoff explains the rules!”
“ … Thank you, Michael. Okay, so four of us are unarmed bystanders, one of us is a bystander with a gun, and one of us is the killer with a knife. Look inside your box to see which one you are.”
Jeremy clicked the latch on his box and creaked it open. “ … Uh, guys? I think there’s a problem. Mine’s empty.”
“That means you’re an unarmed bystander,” provided Jack.
Geoff scoffed through the com. “Suuuuuure it’s empty. Jeremy thinks he can pull one over on us.”
“Jeremy’s the killer, guys!” proclaimed Michael.
“Wait, but he doesn’t know the rules. He might actually be innocent.”
Michael’s voice sounded unconvinced. “Unless that’s what he wants you to think.”
Jeremy adjusted his com and closed his box. “Michael, come on, I’m not that clever. So how do we play, Geoff?”
“The game’s simple. The killer tries to kill everyone, and the bystanders —“
“Hold up.” Jeremy interrupted. A strange chill was spreading up his spine. Don’t die, Geoff had said. “When you say kill, you really mean… ”
The warehouse suddenly felt very big and very still. Jeremy’s gaze darted through the concrete maze looming before him. His breath was quick, shallow. Six crew members. Six pulses. One knife.
“ … You really mean kill, don’t you?” he breathed.
Geoff groaned over the com. “ … Oh come on, guys! Did no one tell Jeremy we were going to literally kill each other? You don’t think that’s an important detail?”
Jack chimed in. “Jeremy, you don’t have to play if you don’t want. I’ll pick you up and we can reset. There’s screens back at base so you can watch if you like.”
“Yeah, no one wants you feeling uncomfortable,” added Ryan. “This is consensual murder.”
“No! No, it’s okay!” Jeremy heaved a deep breath. “I’m… fuck… I’m good. I’m good. Just uh… shaking.”
“Scared?”
“Excited.”
“Jeremy’s the killer, guys. Someone shoot him.”
“Nuh uh. Michael’s got the gun and Michael ain’t puttin’ on no handcuffs. I’ll shoot Jeremy when I see him whip out a damn knife.”
Jeremy frowned. “… Yeah, about those handcuffs — ”
A chorus of voices blasted through Jeremy’s headset, making him wince.
“Handcuffs!”
“Das handcuffs!”
“Handcuuuuuuuuffs!”
Jeremy rubbed his aching ear. “ … Okay, why does everyone have handcuffs?”
Jack’s voice responded. “It’s to keep the person with the gun from shooting anyone who looks at them wrong. You shoot someone who’s not the killer, you gotta drop the gun and put the handcuffs on behind your back. No more firing a gun, and no fighting back once the killer finds you.”
Jeremy’s heart skipped. “ … O-oh. Shit.”
“That’s on an honor system, by the way,” Geoff added. “And don’t go around cuffing people. You can only use them to cuff yourself if you shoot the wrong person, nothing else.”
Ryan’s voice interrupted with a loud groan. “God fucking dammit!”
“ … Can we help you, Ryan?”
“Empty box again.”
“Ryan’s the killer, guys.”
“I am not the killer! Believe me, I wish I was!”
“So are we starting? Is everyone dropped?”
“Yep, everyone’s dropped and I just parked the chopper. Game on!”
Jeremy snapped his box shut, his pulse skipping like a flighty animal. He turned to the looming warehouse and took a deep breath. Look for boxes. Don’t die. Play the game called Murder.
“Good luck out there, lads, remember to always trust your boy Gavvy.”
“Gavin, I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”
Jeremy stepped into the warehouse.
Ruined concrete closed around him. Jeremy scanned the broken walls and doorways as he picked his way around the rubble. The sterile lights cast strange shadows. Gravel crunched under his shoes as he stepped through a shattered hole in the wall and into the next room, leaving the daylight behind.
“Oh, Jeremy!” Geoff’s voice in the com made him jump. “Keep your kills clean for now, yeah? No weird shit, don’t go ripping out eyeballs or anything.”
“Aw fuck, we forgot to talk boundaries.”
Jeremy peered around a corner and down a dusty hall. No sign of another living person. Cautiously, he crept down the hall, ducking under hanging chains. Between every breath, he listened for the crunch of another pair of footsteps picking through the rubble.
“ … Boundaries, huh?” he murmured into his mic, keeping his voice quiet.
“Yeah, some of the guys really don’t like being killed in certain ways,” Jack answered. “But everyone’s okay with a quick shot to the head or chest, so just stick to that and we’ll be good.”
“Later, when you know everyone’s boundaries, you can get creative,” Ryan added.
Jeremy peeked through a doorway. A dusty storage room greeted him, the empty shelves long rusted. He picked his way through the room carefully, stepping over fallen shelves. “Sounds fun. Wish I had a weapon.”
“Look around and you can find one. There’s gun parts scattered around the compound in boxes. Find enough and you can assemble them into a full gun. No using a gun if you’re the killer, but you can totally steal the parts so other people can’t use them.”
“Oh, and if someone says ‘safeword,’ stop everything you’re doing. We play nice here, boys.”
“What am I, chopped liver?”
“Boys and Jack.”
Jeremy rounded a corner and almost collided with Ryan.
“Sh-shit fuck fuck fuck —“ Jeremy reeled back as Ryan did the same. “H-holy shit, Ryan —“
“If I die, it’s Jeremy!” Ryan shouted into his mic.
Jeremy’s jaw tensed. “W-well if I die, it’s Ryan!”
“If I were the killer, you’d be dead already!”
Jeremy caught his breath. He could see Ryan doing the same. Fuck. This was how the game worked. Messy, panicked encounters like this, full of fear and desperation, ending in a gunshot or a meaty slice. It felt so chillingly real now, face to face with Ryan.
The game was called Murder, and these concrete floors were going to taste blood soon.
“ … We cool?” Ryan ventured.
Jeremy’s head was still spinning. “W-we’re cool so long as you move along.”
“Sure.” Ryan hesitated. “ … Unless…”
“ … Unless what?”
Ryan pulled his mic away from his mouth, starting to smile. “As long as no one else is around… wanna grab a quickie?”
Jeremy’s heart jumped. “ … Do you seriously think I’m going to fall for that?”
“C’mon, I’m not gonna stab you. Not with a knife, anyway.”
“How do you know that I’m not the killer, huh?” Jeremy took a step back. “There’s only one way you could know for sure.”
“Maybe I don’t know that.” Ryan shrugged. “Maybe I’m just horny. There’s only, what… a twenty percent chance you slit my throat? Sounds worth it.”
Geoff’s voice buzzed in Jeremy’s ear. “Jeremy, who are you talking to?”
“Ryan,” Jeremy snapped, glaring at him. “He’s being weird.”
“Oh shit. Weird in a killer-y way?”
“Yeah, might be weird in a killer-y way.”
Ryan held a finger over his smile. “Only a twenty percent chance I’ll slit your throat either. So how horny are you?”
Horny enough, Jeremy thought. The fear and anticipation had his heart racing, and just the thought of trying to fuck in a place like this was making him dizzy. A rushed, panicked rut on the concrete, adrenaline burning through his veins, hushed breath and sweaty skin-on-skin, never knowing if the next breath would be the last…
Michael’s voice was rough over the com. “So is Ryan the killer or not? Am I shooting him next time I see him?”
Jeremy pulled the mic away from his mouth. “Ask me back at headquarters,” he whispered to Ryan. He pulled the mic back. “He hasn’t pulled out a knife but I’m not gonna complain if you gun him down.”
Ryan frowned. “Thanks, I’ll fuck you harder for that.” He pulled his own mic back into place and pointed at something behind Jeremy. “You gonna pick up that gun piece?”
Jeremy turned, caught a glimpse of a metal box sitting on the table behind him, then spun back towards Ryan. “ … A-all yours,” he mumbled. He didn’t step out of the way.
Ryan hesitated for a moment. Then, he took a step towards the table, then another. It was trust, risk. Jeremy held his breath as Ryan stepped closer. Fuck. Arm range. He was too tense to move as Ryan closed the gap.
Ryan’s shoulder brushed Jeremy as he passed. Jeremy tensed, chest heaving slightly, and Ryan stepped past him.
Fuck. Past him. Ryan touched him, and nothing happened. For a moment, the air seemed perfectly still. Jeremy swallowed. He reached slowly into his pocket, closed his hand around the knife, and flicked the blade open.
He had to do it now. Now. Before Ryan turned around. Before he saw the knife.
“Two gun parts for me,” Ryan announced to his com, his back turned to Jeremy as he opened the box. “Well on my way.”
Now. Now.
Jeremy cursed under his breath and grabbed Ryan from behind, slapping a hand over his mouth and flicking the knife up under his jaw, blade pressed against his throat.
Slit him open. Jeremy’s breath was heavy against Ryan’s shoulder, his hand shaking, the knife wobbling on Ryan’s neck. He could feel Ryan’s breath muffled against his palm, quick and terrified, his body frozen with fear. One quick slice. Blood everywhere. Kill him kill him kill him.
Jeremy’s knife wouldn’t move.
Fuck. Fuck. Was he losing his nerve? His first game night with the crew, and he couldn’t play on their level? No, that couldn’t be it, because this didn’t feel bad. This felt good. So good it was paralyzing, debilitating euphoria. He could hear Ryan’s breath, feel him trembling where they were pressed together. Ryan’s hands were lifted in surrender, gun parts dropped to the floor. Solid, warm, helpless, his.
He didn’t want to kill Ryan yet. Didn’t want it to be over yet. Didn’t want to stop feeling this high, the press of a terrified body against his, the panicked heat of muffled breath against his palm. He wanted to savor this. Draw it out. Relish it.
Jeremy leaned close to Ryan’s ear, the one without a com in it. He whispered, too soft for his own mic to pick up, barely breathing the words.
“ … You still wanna fuck, Ryan?”
He could feel Ryan shudder, feel a muffled noise against his palm.
“Drop your pants,” Jeremy whispered. “And don’t scream.”
He slid his hand off Ryan’s mouth.
The next few seconds were some of the most terrifying of Jeremy’s life. Ryan’s com was close to his lips, his breath steaming on the mic.
Ryan swallowed. He lowered his hands, and silently, started undoing his pants.
Holy fuck.
Jeremy’s head was spinning as Ryan’s pants dragged down, sudden bare skin against his clothed body. He kept his knife against Ryan’s throat. Fuck. Fuck. He’d have to slice quick if Ryan tried to say anything. It would only take a fraction of a second to get out three accusing syllables.
Jer-em-y.
Then everyone would know, and every gun in the warehouse would be trained on his head.
As long as Ryan’s throat was intact, he could still rat Jeremy out. The knowledge should have moved Jeremy’s knife, but instead it moved his other hand, fumbling to get his pants open. This was more than just a head-spinning power trip, his arousal was so intense it seemed to throb in his skull. He groaned as he slipped his dick out, letting it sandwich between their bodies, pressed against Ryan’s ass.
“You asked to fuck, so you’ve got lube.” Jeremy was stammering the words against Ryan’s neck, barely daring to speak above a whisper. “Get it out. Finger yourself.”
Ryan’s hand shook as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bottle. “B-bastard,” he hissed.
Jeremy’s jaw tensed. “Stay quiet or you die quicker.”
The pop of the lube bottle opening felt like a gunshot. Jeremy’s heart pounded as Ryan took longer to lube his fingers than Jeremy had ever seen him take before. He could feel Ryan’s slick fingers reach between their bodies, bump against his dick, then press into the crease. Ryan’s breath hitched as his fingers slid inside.
“Ah —“ Ryan bit his lip hard to muffle the noise. “Nnnh…”
The sound of a voice over the com almost stopped Jeremy’s heart.
“Anyone dead yet?”
“Well, I’m not dead.”
“Nope.”
“Me neither.”
Jeremy swallowed. “Not dead over here.” His voice almost broke. He could feel the shift in Ryan’s knuckles against his dick, hear the soft slick noise of fingers working.
“Anyone besides Michael got a full gun yet?”
“I’m getting real close.”
Jeremy groaned and rolled his hips against Ryan’s ass. “I’m getting close too.”
“The killer’s really laying low this round.”
“Bend over the table,” Jeremy whispered against Ryan’s neck.
“Ghhhhh I don’t like it! I just want someone to die just so something happens!”
“You want me to shoot you, Gavin? I can make something happen.”
Ryan’s hand pulled out from between their bodies. His fingers were still slick, leaving a smear on the rusted metal table as his white knuckles gripped it. Ryan leaned forward, as much as he could with the knife at his throat, and pressed his hips back against Jeremy’s dick.
It felt like begging. Begging for cock, begging for his life. Jeremy was only going to give Ryan one of those things.
It was a fumble to get his dick inside with his hand shaking so hard. Jeremy buried his face in Ryan’s neck with a groan as he finally sunk inside. Oh fuck. Fuck. Warm and tight and slick, and his to use however he wanted. He could hear Ryan struggling to keep quiet, hear muffled grunts and half-whines as he slowly sunk in.
“Shit, guys, Ryan’s been real quiet. Ryan, are you dead?”
Jeremy’s heart shot into his throat and he froze. His shaking hand pressed the knife harder against Ryan’s neck.
“ … Ryan?” he ventured. “Say something if you’re alive.”
Ryan’s breath seemed to stop. Jeremy’s chest heaved as he waited.
“ … I-I’m alive,” Ryan said at last.
“Jesus, man, it sounds like you’re trying to give CPR to your mic. What the fuck are you doing over there?”
Jeremy shuddered as he rolled his hips with sudden urgency. “Is it the killer, Ryan?” He hoped that the tremor in his voice sounded like fear. “Are you being chased? Who is it?”
Ryan swallowed, his hands shaking against the table, his jaw tense. “ … No,” he managed. “Just — out of breath from running up and down these damn stairs looking for gun parts.”
“Huh, didn’t know there were stairs on this site.”
“Yeah,” Ryan ground out, “that’s weird, right?”
Jeremy dug the knife in until Ryan winced in pain. “Are you sure it’s not the killer, Ryan?”
“Found another gun piece!” called Jack. “Just need a barrel and I’m armed!”
“Ah piss, I haven’t got a damn one!”
Ryan’s whimper of frustration was so satisfying that Jeremy almost groaned into his mic. It was getting harder and harder not to let sounds of pleasure slip through his teeth. Ryan was so tight, strong thighs shaking under Jeremy’s thrusts. That panicked pulse must be racing against the keen edge of his blade, tender and vulnerable…
“Nnnh —“ Jeremy’s breath was getting heavy. “O-oh fuck —“
“What? Who’s cursing? What’s going on?”
“I think Jeremy’s about to jizz.”
Jeremy shuddered and his hips twitched. “Sh-shut up, Michael —“
“Speaking of Jeremy, where the hell is he? I haven’t seen him once.”
Ryan was half-snarling, half begging into the mic. “K-keep looking, he’s — ah — around here somewhere!”
“Those must be some stairs you’ve found, Ryan, it sounds like they’re blowing you.”
“F-fucking —“ Ryan’s exasperation dragged out of him in a long whine. “P-please—“
The please was too much. The pleasure crested, and Jeremy’s desire to fuck was suddenly eclipsed by a desire to cut.
The knife slashed across Ryan’s throat, cutting through skin and meat and hitting bone. Ryan made a noise, a choked-off wet gasp. Jeremy made a noise too.
“A-ahhh —“ Jeremy’s hips jerked, pressing hard against Ryan as he came with blood gushing over his hand. “Oh fuck —“
“What happened? Is someone dead?”
“Nnnnnnh —“ Jeremy almost dropped the knife as his dick throbbed. He pressed his face into Ryan’s neck, shaking in the aftershocks. “N-nothing, nothing happened — oh fuck —“
“Oh no. I don’t like how that sounds.”
Jeremy staggered back, and Ryan slumped to the floor. In a daze, he tucked his still-twitching dick back into his pants. His gaze drifted down, and the remaining air left his lungs.
“Oh… fuck…”
The rush hit him like a sledgehammer, more intense than the orgasm had been. Jeremy’s chest heaved as he stared at the limp body at his feet. Each heartbeat was a deep, body-shaking pump that made his vision reel. The blood was hot hot hot, pouring like sweet wine down his arm as the knife wobbled in his hand.
Fuck… fuck…
A squeak made Jeremy’s gaze snap up.
In the cracked concrete hall stood Gavin, frozen and pale-faced. His wide-eyed gaze jumped from Jeremy’s face to Ryan’s limp body. Jeremy’s hand tightened around the knife and blood dripped from his knuckles.
Gavin bolted. Jeremy tore after him through the halls, footsteps pounding.
“He’s the killer he’s the killer Jeremy’s the killer!” Gavin was screaming into his com as he ran. “Aaaaaaaaah he’s right behind me! He got Ryan!”
Michael’s voice snarled through the mic. “I goddamn knew it! Jeremy you sneaky little bastard!”
A wild smile was overtaking Jeremy’s face as he raced through the warehouse after Gavin, knife dripping in his fist. “Hey, Michael? Guess what.”
“What?”
“Turns out I am that clever.”
“You motherfucker.”
“Yeah, my box wasn’t empty.”
“Michaaaaaael!” Each of Gavin’s screams sent fresh throbs to Jeremy’s dick. “Aaaaah Michael he’s gonna kill me, shoot him!
“Get back here, Gavin!” Jeremy’s foot skidded on the filthy floor as he shot around a corner. “Get back here you little slut, I’m gonna slit your —“
Michael stood at the end of the room, a pistol trained on Jeremy’s head. Gavin cowered behind him, clinging to his arm as if for safety.
Jeremy skidded to a stop. “Shi—“
Michael fired.
——
Jeremy opened his eyes.
The clone pod was a gentle nest around him, the glass top already slid open. He could hear muffled roars of laughter from the group communication, not quite loud enough to drown out the soft hum of the clone pods. Jeremy sat up, blinking and rubbing the respawn haze from his eyes. The big screen in the corner of the room was lit up with views of the warehouse, and in front of it stood…
Ryan.
His back was to Jeremy, just like it had been before Jeremy pulled out the knife. He was dressed in the simple spare clothes that the respawn room provided. As Jeremy sat up, Ryan turned around and smiled while voices cheered over the coms.
“Holy shit that round ended out of nowhere!”
“Michael, I thought I was a goner! You saved me, boy!”
Geoff’s voice pushed through the cheering, “Whoa whoa whoa, what happened? Who died? Is it over?”
“Michael shot that murderous bastard Jeremy!”
“I can’t believe Jeremy was the killer on his first round ever!”
“So Jeremy was the killer?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure he was the killer,” Michael drawled over the com. “He was holding a knife and fucking covered in blood. Hey, Jeremy, tell Geoff you were the killer, because evidently he didn’t hear it when you fucking announced it earlier.”
Ryan leaned towards a mic. “Jeremy’s a little dazed right now, but he was definitely the killer.”
“Did you get got, Ryan?”
“I got got.” Ryan leaned back from the mic, speaking now just to Jeremy. “Not bad for your first round, even if you only got one kill.”
Jeremy smiled as he swung his legs out of the clone pod. “Yeah, but it was a damn good kill.”
“Felt good to see Micheal gun you down like a rabid dog.”
“Pssh.” Jeremy strode to the shelf of clothes. He grabbed a pair of boxers. “You know what else felt good? Cutting your throat while I came in your ass.”
“Touche. You know, fucking your victims isn’t exactly against the rules, but… as you found out, real risky.” Ryan crossed his arms, a small motion that Jeremy had seen him do dozens of times, achingly familiar. “I can’t believe no one caught you sooner.”
Jeremy pulled a shirt off the shelf, but didn’t move to put it on, his gaze snagged. Ryan. It was too much, suddenly, just to see him standing there. To see the shift of breath in his chest, hear his familiar low voice, see his neck unbroken by a slash of gore. No trace of the knife Jeremy had sliced through his throat.
Ryan’s brow pursed. “ … You’re staring.”
Jeremy looked away quickly. He tugged the shirt on. “Sorry. Uh. It’s good to see you standing, that’s all.”
A strange look was spreading across Ryan’s face. “ … That was your first time, wasn’t it?”
“I mean… that’s the first time I’ve fucked you today…”
“No, I mean that was your first murder.” Ryan crossed the room, stepping close to Jeremy. “That was your first time killing one of us. A Fake. Wasn’t it?”
There were no knives here, no guns, no concrete jungle hiding killers, but Jeremy’s heart was thumping all the same. The look Ryan was giving him felt more intense than any bedroom look.
“How’d it feel?” Ryan murmured.
Jeremy swallowed. “ … Felt like being alive.”
“Mmh.” He could hear the soft hitch in Ryan’s breath. “Damn. I’m glad I got to pop your cherry.”
The crackle of Jack’s voice over the com pulled both of their gazes back to the screen.
“You guys wanna reset and go another round?”
“Yeah!”
“Let’s do it!”
“Hey, Jeremy, what did you think? You like playing Murder?”
Jeremy crossed the room to the screens. He could see views of the warehouse, his buddies scattered through the complex. His fresh new body wasn’t flooded with adrenaline yet, but he could already feel his heart rate picking up.
He leaned towards the mic with a smile. “Let’s start the next round.”