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The sitting room no longer is stuffed full of bodies. The high walls curve in their grandeur and weigh down on Damon’s shoulders, his mind. The careful responsibility originally held between the eleven of them now shifted to their final four. To him, to Grace, to Wenona, to Kai.
Tozu tears the paper into four unnaturally even strips, Mara sets that cursed calligraphy pen besides the hat. She’s disappeared back into the shadows by the time Tozu’s scraps meet the wood.
“Ladies first.”
Neither Grace, nor Wenona move at his call. The singer’s head gripped between her bloodied fingers, faint streaks tickling her blonde hair. Wenona’s face twitches minutely in discomfort as she finally rises from the safety of the sofa.
She doesn’t give any of them a look as she strides to the table, snatches up the pen and scrawls something so quickly Damon’s unsure it’ll be legible. She retakes her perch on the sofa opposite him and Kai, before elbowing Grace so hard she almost falls to the floor.
“Come on, last one.”
Grace stumbles over to the table, her hand shaking as she grips the pen. Then she presses so hard Damon can hear the tip pierce the paper as she writes a name. She’s there too long for the simple three letters that make up ‘Kai’.
Damon feels his stomach roll, as Grace’s hunched figure at the table is soon replaced by the anxious jitter of Kai’s back. Pen meets paper, then Tozu folds it between his gloved hands before dropping it into the hat that has caused all of them so much misery tonight.
Kai sinks into the cushion next to him and Damon starts to his feet. Leads himself to stand across the table from Tozu and stares at the blank paper blinking up at him. Who to vote for, who to risk sending to their death. It’s a decision he’s made seven times already tonight and yet as he picks up the pen he just can’t do it again.
First he scratches out the letter ‘D’, then ‘a’, then ‘m’ and ‘o’ and ‘n’. Until his eyes are welling and he can barely make out his own name staring back up at him. His breath catches as he watches Tozu flip and bend the paper, catches the amused tug of the man’s lips and has the urge to snatch the paper back.
Instead he takes a deep breath and seats himself back beside Kai.
The room is silent as Tozu scrunches and shuffles the scraps in the chasm of his hat. The sofa creaks as Kai’s weight moves close, his hand gently closing around Damon’s wrist. He slips loose of the grip reaching to twine their fingers together instead; they may not get a moment of calm like this again.
And then it happens. Tozu’s motions still and he withdraws a slip of paper, gently unfolds it before looking up. Directly at Damon.
“The Journalist, Damon.”
The paper is spun to face the group, and there it is. Five letters in Damon’s own handwriting staring back so soon. Kai’s grip on his hand tightens, and all Damon can do is squeeze back and hope that the next name out is one of the girls.
Black-gloved hands return to the tophat, and the tick of the grandfather clock from the hallway seems to creep louder by as seconds pass, then more and more. Until at least a minute must have passed and Tozu’s hand finally withdraws.
This time his eyes find the other sofa, “The Jazz Singer, Miss Madison.”
The paper spins and there’s a tear in the corner, and as Damon meets Grace’s eyes they come to the same conclusion.
“You both voted for yourselves, how quaint.” Wenona is the one to voice it, and Damon can feel the harsh turn of Kai’s eyes on him.
The Hunter rises to her feet, snatching the hat from Tozu’s grip before tipping out the last two remaining scraps. She’s laughing once the four pieces are unfolded side by side on the table,
“Four for four huh, guess you’re not all talk then.”
“What?” Kai’s voice is quiet but seems to boom loud above the fracturing silence between the group.
“What Miss Wenona means is that you sad silly souls all voted for yourselves. Completely off the cuff too, normally there’s some grand speech needed for this. But I guess you all care about each other, how sweet.” Tozu is quick to regain their attention, hands sweeping wide in an open gesture.
“Now here’s the fun part, for your final hallucination. I have something extra special for you all.”
His hands clap together and his lips creep into a too wide smile, Damon feels his heart in his throat.
“You’ll be playing this round with a shocking twist.”
This is too similar, the basement, a puzzle-
“And with your fate in the sole hands of a partner.”
A pair.
“As our first draw, your pick Damon.”
It’s not much of a choice, sure Wenona was probably the stronger choice. And maybe it was cruel to place his life in the hands of someone he knew cared for him. But Damon never did things the conventional way.
He turns to Kai, and sees a teary but determined smile on the other's face. Those yellow eyes betray his fear, his tiredness but also a resolve that the Damon of several hours ago didn’t know the Hustler held. And so he raises their still joint hands into the air with a pointed look at Tozu.
“How poetic, you saved him and now hope he will repay the favour. Oh where are the tissues?” Tozu’s teasing fades into the back of Damon’s mind as Grace rises to her feet opposite him, for a second she looks like she’s gonna hit someone.
Then she crosses the gap between the seats, pulls him up and out of Kai’s grasp before gripping Damon in a hug that says a thousand different words and still doesn’t encompass everything they need to say.
He curls his arms around her squeezing back just as hard, last time they’d both come out alive but as he meets the quiver of her lips when they finally separate they both know that’s not happening this time.
“If you get outta here, you gotta right the piece of a lifetime on my legacy okay?”
Her hands are shaking where they rest on his shoulders.
“Only if you promise to perform something polite about me.”
His eyes slip close as they press their foreheads together, a gentler bump than during sick-twister earlier. Nails digging into his palms as he ignores the want to hold on. To meld them together as one sole being, to dwindle their four to a three without one of them being lost to this hell hole.
“Polite might be a stretch..”
“Grace.” His voice betrays him, breaking on the sole syllable of her name. It’s pathetic, or maybe this time yesterday he would have thought so. In this moment he’s happy it makes her smile.
“Kidding, deal. Of course it's a deal.”
-
There’s no place Damon hates in the house more than the basement. Aside from its slightly more inhabitable temperature, nothing about it is pleasant. From the lighting to the creaks and shrieks of every door, floorboard and contraption.
It’s like a miniature hell on earth. Down here is where they’ve lost so many people, Mark to whatever Wolfgang did to him. Before that Jett after Mark struggled to follow Damon’s pace in the race to save their partner.
As they walked past one of the open doors- he glanced the machine in all its daunting glory.
The watery mess on the floor, the pile of discarded bangles the Gambler had ditched in his efforts. All the evidence of Damon’s successful saving of Kai; of Mark’s failure to procure the same fate for Jett.
Of the events that led to Ulysseus buried six feet under, to Damon’s back-to-back entry in challenges.
He’s already lucked his way out of two, he’s not too sure the third time will be the charm.
Kai hovers beside him as his stride falters. And he can’t even imagine what the other is thinking as he sees the husk of Jett slumped in that tube. That could have been him, if Damon had been seconds slower, if he had started helping Mark earlier. So many variables and the masked head streaking blood against the glass would have a head full of pink hair instead.
It’s awful for Damon to consider, but must be even worse for Kai. He doesn’t show it, instead knocking their heads together and tugs Damon after the girls and Tozu.
Damon’s not sure what he’s done to earn such loyalty.
Yet another deathtrap look-alike of a machine greets them upon Tozu’s unlocking of the final door, two seats equipped with way too many restraints to promise anything good. Damon is guided to the one on the left first.
His hands are strapped to the wooden arms, legs to the rough wood of the chairs’ own- his toes pressing against the strange metal box attached to the front of the chair. And then a final one pulled unnervingly taut around his middle, secure to keep him in place.
Grace is situated the same in the chair next to him, and they look over at one another for one last desperate look as Tozu steps back from cinching Grace in. He gathers Wenona and Kai, leading them to the far corner of the room.
“Good luck.”
“I fear I’ve used it all up tonight already, but right back at you.”
The swinging light bulb between them flickers to life, and their gazes snap apart as five small cylinders rise out of the matching silver boxes by their feet. Tozu calls all attention back to himself by the door once they stop.
“For your final hallucination, welcome to Cara’s ‘learning chair’. Your partner, in order to save you, needs to land five rings on the posts stationed by your feet. Whoever does it first within half an hour wins, easy right?”
Damon looks to Kai, sees the boy glancing at a small hooped weight in his hand. The way his eyes are darting between Tozu, Damon and the way Wenona is weighing her matching ring in her own grip.
“Except for one little twist, each time you miss a throw. Our dumb blondes hooked up to the chairs will be given a little shock. And as the number of fails increases, so does the voltage.”
The sound of Kai’s ring falling to the floor echoes into the expectant silence Tozu leaves as he pulls the door to a close. And Damon can see the instinctual quirk Wenona’s lips take on at the mistake.
Only for a second as directly after the ring settles on the floor, Damon’s blinking back tears as he burns. It’s sharp, quick but tingles in all the wrong ways.
“That counts? Seriously fuck you and your stupid house.”
He sees Grace shift her neck in his periphery and nods as best he can. It fucking hurts.
“Wenona I swear to God. I know we haven’t always gotten along but-”
“Yes. I know you don’t want to die.” The Hunter looks away from her first ring finally, and then she tosses it towards Grace’s chair and with a satisfying clink the hoop catches and settles.
The whoop Grace lets out in response settles like lead in Damon’s stomach as he turns back to Kai. He tries to smile, but he can feel it wobbling as he takes in the shock on Kai’s face at Wenona’s ease.
His eyes are screaming at Damon, asking why he chose Kai for this. A scrounger against an athlete.
“Give it your best shot, yeah?” He’s being cruel but he can’t help but echo Kai’s request back to him. Damon doesn’t want to die sure, but if he does he wants Kai to know it’s not his fault.
Kai doesn’t move, just stares him down and for a few awful moments Damon thinks he’s just gonna stand there and watch Wenona win. That he’s gonna stand shock still and witness Damon inch closer and closer to death with no effort to push back.
And then Grace screams, it's short, unwilling. But an indication that Wenona may not be a sure-shot to win this.
Kai moves.
His hand dips into the box of rings, pulls one loose and then he closes his eyes and just chucks it. And somehow, blessed by some being, it settles on one of Damon’s posts.
“Kai! You fabulous man, well done. Again again- try that again.” Kai’s eyes shoot open, and his face lights up as he sees the relief coating Damon’s own. He’s quick to respond, nodding and grabbing a handful more.
“Even if you miss, just keep throwing okay. I can handle some shocks. Don’t bother trying to weigh it out like Wenona.” She glances over sharply at Damon’s words throwing her third ring, it settles on Grace’s box, number two of five. She raises an eyebrow and Damon manages to flick his left hand into a thumbs up before giving his attention back to Kai.
“Sleight of hand and luck right? You got this.”
“Yeah, yeah. I got this.”
The next three miss. And Damon feels like liquid fire is coursing through his veins, can feel his body trying to twitch and jolt at the sensation but all he can do is bite his tongue. He can’t let them know how bad it’s hurting and slow Kai down.
When the second ring settles on Damon’s chair and Wenona is still weighing up her first throw for Grace’s third, the snapping starts.
“Come on already Wenona, throw it. I can take a shock- we’ve not got all day. I’m gonna die here if you don't get a shift on-” Grace is cut off by her own scream, and the repetitive mutters of fuckfuckfuck that follow.
“I’m trying to make sure your brain isn’t fried when you get out of there. Cause if you want me throwing willy-nilly like Kai that’s what you’re gonna goddamn get!”
“I don’t care, either throw quicker or just give up on the accuracy!”
“Fine. But if you die, it’s your fault.”
After that the screams seem to be endless, if it’s not Damon, it’s Grace and if it’s not Grace either Kai or Wenona are yelling frustrations about the rings. And it soon becomes clear this is not a game of strategy but of luck.
“They’re all different weights- stop bitching Madison!”
“THEN STOP MISSING, IT FUCKING HURTS.”
“What happened to being able to take it, HUH?!”
The arguing momentarily stops from beside Damon as Wenona throws and no shock follows, that’s three for Grace. And countless shocks for Damon, this time he bites down so hard he can feel blood pooling onto his lower lip.
“I’m sorry Damon. I’m sorry I don’t know why you chose me.”
“No, no apologies. Your best is all I ask.” His words are beginning to slur, his mouth feels numb. He’s sure he looks awful.
“Don’t you dare smile at me, you utter asshole. You’re gonna die and it’s all gonna be my fault!”
Tears are beginning to prick at Kai’s eyes and a pair of rings fling out from his hands towards Damon in his upset. He braces for the burning sensation, for the tears, for the way his body will tear a sound of pure fear from deep within. Closes his eyes and waits.
Instead he hears twin sounds of metal meeting metal. What.
He opens his eyes and sees Kai wide-eyed and gaping.
“That’s FOUR! Okay Kai, come on. One more just one more and we’re done, it's home and walks in the park okay, yeah? Please come on please.”
He devolves into a constant stream of muttering Kai’s name and pleas. He can’t really tell what’s going on very much anymore, he can tell when someone misses because he burns or Grace’s shouts of Wenona’s name peter off momentarily.
So he’s not too sure what’s happening when there’s the dual sounds of metal catching and the light still swinging between the chairs pops.
“Oh God, Damon..”
Ah, so this is it. The end of the road is here. His eyes are still closed, must have been for minutes now. But he relaxes his muscles, tries to ease his body against the restraints. One moment of peace before the nothingness of death.
And then Grace starts screaming.
Nothing like the short, startled gasps of before or the cruel calls of Wenona name. The sound to his right is pure agony.
He startles against his restraints, still too sluggish to even pose a threat. But he needs to just- he manages to loll his head onto his shoulder and blink his eyes open. And it’s awful, sparks scatter up and along Grace’s chair. She’s shrieking and crying and it’s awful.
Her nails dig into the flesh of the arm chairs, her hips buck and legs attempt to kick out. It’s volatile, raw, it's human. That selfish desire, the instinct, the need to escape. To fight, to flee. All of that is on showcase as Grace grows quieter, still as she loses the battle. As she slumps over in the chair, as her breathing stops.
Damon watches, couldn’t tear his head away even if he wanted to. He forces his eyes open and takes in every shake, every cry of pain, every sacrifice in the short few seconds. And then he lets the tears prickling his eyes to fall.
Scrunches his eyes shut and lets every unsaid word exist in that moment. All the moments they could have had, every morning Grace should have seen come and every nightfall she should have reached.
All of what she will miss now that she’s a body, a corpse, something so innately separate from him, Kai and Wenona. Physically here but in every over aspect, in every other way that matters gone.
He could sit there and think, could ponder and let his mind wander. Tread the path again and again for Ingrid, for Wolfgang, for Mark- for all of them. But as a light flickers on, and the creaking sound of the door reaches him Damon forces it all the some far corner of his mind, to be unpacked much later- with something strong beside him and his notepad.