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Chapter Text

Brenda "Final Girl" Poppy was stuck babysitting the high schoolers at the Hot Topic again. If they were just shoppers, she wouldn't mind it as much since it'd mean, at some point soon, they'd leave. But these ones were her subordinates, and specifically ones that didn't really like her. It made the day absolutely drag (which was saying something, because it already did most days.)

Through the sounds of Bring Me the Horizon blasting away on the speakers, Final Girl heard the sounds of hangers getting haphazardly hung on racks, enough of a racket to make her glance out of the corner of her eye from the register to where one of the kids working the floor was finishing up and then trying to sneak off. She frowned.

"Turk!" she warned, flipping the booklet she was reading shut and standing up straight to confront him (of course, without leaving the counter.) He turned back to her with his own scowl.

"I'm taking a break, Brenda," he replied.

"No—you just took one an hour ago," she said.

"I've had a hard day!"

"You've been here for four hours!"

"He's going through a lot right now!" Another voice from behind her defended. Final Girl looked over her shoulder and saw the other employee on duty, Meg, stood at the necklace display cases where she had been restocking them.

"Don't you start in on this," Final Girl said.

"You just don't get what it's like to have the kind of expectations he's got to deal with. All that pressure gets to you—he deserves the break," Meg continued.

Final Girl kept staring at her. She hated managing teenagers so much.

"Yeah," she said, "I'll never get it."

Final Girl turned back to where Turk was—correction: had been. In the moments of her arguing with Meg, he had snuck off like he planned to, no doubt something the two had worked in tandem for. Now Final Girl was kicking herself because it was such an obvious ploy and she fell for it (was she really that far out from her years of training to have missed that kind of play?)

"Are you for-?" she stammered and her head snapped back to Meg who just shrugged and returned to working on the necklace display. "You guys suck ."

She gasped and actively looked offended. "You can't say that to me."

"Oh please—you say worse about me. I've heard it; don't act like you don't," Final Girl replied.

"Get over yourself," Meg said and rolled her eyes.

"Whatever," Final Girl sat back down in her chair at the register and leaned back, "have fun doing all Turk's work while he's on break."

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me. All that stocking's got to get done. If you were so determined to let him take that break, clearly you wanna do it for him."

"I- but-" she stammered, then groaned and stomped off.

Final Girl shook her head and spun her chair around to face towards the front of the store. Once she did, she spotted a familiar face walking in (well, really a familiar pair of sunglasses hiding a familiar face.)

"What's up, Chosen?" she greeted as he approached the counter, arms loaded down with a half dozen shopping bags already. None of them really looked like stores he'd go to (M.A.C, Guess, Kate Spade)—except for one bag from the Lego store—so it did give her pause. Still, she was focused more on the fact he was stopping by at all.

"Not much," he replied, "having trouble?"

Final Girl sighed. "Yeah—two of my employees started dating a month ago and now they won't stop white knighting for each other."

"Mm."

"So what's got you coming by?" She held up a hand. "Not that I'm not happy about a distraction from... all of this."

"I spotted the Hot Topic over here and thought I would see if perhaps you were working today," he replied. Briefly, he attempted his usual stance of crossing his arms as he stood besides the counter like it was his go to pose in any situation, but it proved impossible with all the bags and did nothing more than cause a racket and he then had to adjust them all around on his arms again to make himself comfortable once more. "Also," he continued, "the Lush store is beyond even my capacity to withstand."

"Fair," Final Girl replied, "that place can be kind of overwhelming. I can't go in there for long with Regina."

Admittedly, she wasn't hanging out with Regina a lot, but they had been spending more time together since they met up at Raising Cane's. Had they gone to Lush together? No. If she went, she was going with Criss Darren (to pick up stuff at the advice of Regina, sure,) but that wasn't the point.

The Chosen nodded but gave no further response—and that was the point. He wasn't hanging out with Regina, who would definitely be the one who would go to all those stores (besides the Lego store.) He was hanging out with someone else.

The Chosen had another friend.

Maybe I've still got a bit of my Hunter instinct in me , Final Girl thought to herself. At least she could deduce that. Figuring out who it was was going to require something a little more straightforward.

"So," she started, "who're you playing bag boy for?"

"I tend to help out my friend Brianna whenever she wants to go shopping to keep up my endurance and strength with how much and how long she shops. She's not able to carry the capacity I can," he replied.

Final Girl nodded, smile growing on her face despite how she tried to hold it back. Gosh, it was sweet, even if he didn't realize it. Especially the more she thought about the fact that now there was no doubt in her mind the Legos were his. Something about it made the whole affair of carrying this girl Brianna's bags for her even more endearing.

"It's that, um, that one quote I know a bunch of kids kept saying in here once," she waved her hand around trying to remember it, then snapped her fingers, "'You're sworn to carry her bags.'"

"'Burdens,'" he corrected.

"Yeah," she laughed.

As the Chosen glanced around the Hot Topic from where he stood, Final Girl considered everything he said, then what she knew about him since she had begun reconnecting with him.

"Is..." she started, catching his attention again, "...is Brianna the girl that picked you up from Raising Cane's instead of your mom?"

The Chosen hesitated. "Yes."

Final Girl's jaw dropped. "Oh...my gosh."

"It's not a big deal—we're just friends-"

"She's seriously not your girlfriend?!"

"I've told you-"

"No, I know you've got the whole no-nut forever thing going on, but like, you could still have a girlfriend, couldn't you?" she asked.

"It's not- there's rules to it and- stipulations—" he stuttered, face turning the faintest shades of red, "—she has a boyfriend, so no, she couldn't be my girlfriend."

For a brief moment, Final Girl noticed something else underneath the justifications. Something he wasn't verbalizing—or perhaps something he himself hadn't yet made sense of. With anyone else, she would've loved to continue teasing him, but something didn't feel right about it this time. The Chosen had something to work through, and she wasn't going to make him work through it while she was on the clock and he was in public. That'd be too cruel, especially since they only just started talking again.

"Hey, I'm just teasing," she said, "I get it: she's not your girlfriend. You don't have to wear yourself out explaining it—it was just funny to mess with you like I used to."

The Chosen pursed his lips, trying to compose himself again. "Right."

"So," she started, "Criss Darren was asking about—"

"What colleges are you looking at?" the Chosen interrupted.

"Hm?" Final Girl quirked an eyebrow, then glanced down to where he was staring at the counter and she noticed he had spotted her absentmindedly playing with the edges of the booklet sitting there—the one for the local community college she had been reading. It was her turn to go flush in the face. "It- uh- I just-" she scratched the back of her head, "-I don't know. I don't know if I even wanna go back to school or what I'd do if I did. I'm just...trying to figure out what I wanna do with myself now that I'm...trying to be okay with being a joke."

"What are you interested in?"

She shrugged. "History? Kind of? Like I kind of got on a kick of reading stuff after the whole mansion thing with Mr. Grub, but I don't know if that was really me being interested in it or if that was me thinking I needed to know it to try and save the world. Because now that I don't have to...you know, live up to having to save anyone, I don't know if I like that or would want to do that." She let out a short laugh. "Or maybe I liked it because I thought I wanted to be like Mr. Grub. Oh gosh—do I want to be a teacher? I'd get paid worse than I'd get paid here." She paused. "That's what everyone says, right? That teachers get paid awful."

"Yeah."

"And I already get paid like crap." She paused. "How did Mr. Grub afford to take us anywhere for training? He took us everywhere."

She sat back and considered it, noticing the Chosen in deep thought as he contemplated it as well before both were interrupted by an excitable voice cheering "Chosen!" from the entrance of the Hot Topic and the clattering of heels across the dark concrete floor, piercing through the Gorillaz echoing over the speakers. Both of them glanced up and over as a blonde woman hurried into the store looking sorely out of place.

Final Girl felt her chest tighten at the sight of her, a type of fear that only cropped up every once in a while when she went into stores "not meant for her." She knew what girls who looked like this were thinking and what they would say behind her back; she'd heard it all before. All she could wonder now was what this one would call her—

No. Stop it, she reminded herself, that was high school and this is now. People in the real world are different. 

A brief moment of clarity took over after talking herself down and Final Girl realized this was Brianna. It made the tension in her body ease. There was no way this girl would be friends with the Chosen and still make fun of her. She'd be okay.

"Oh my gosh , I'm so glad you didn't leave this store," Brianna said, smiling wide and wrapping her arms around his bicep. Final Girl saw him stiffen against the touch, but otherwise gave no reaction. "If you had left, I would've had no idea where to look for you."

"You could have called me," he replied.

She hesitated and grimaced. "My phone's dead."

He furrowed his brow. "Why?"

She rolled her eyes. "Bryce called me when I was in Lush and it was already low on battery and so it died. So now he probably thinks I hung up on him so he's gonna be mad at me."

"What kind of phone do you have?" Final Girl asked, leaning over in her chair to her bag under the counter.

"Apple, obviously," she replied.

Final Girl sat back upright and handed over the powerbank she had pulled from her bag to Brianna. "Here. You can borrow this."

"Are you serious?" Brianna gasped.

"Yeah. Just give it to the Chosen at the end of the day and I'll get it back from him the next time we hang out," she said, then shot a look and smile to him, "because we will hang out."

The Chosen nodded as Brianna clutched the powerbank to her chest.

"You are literally the sweetest," Brianna said, then held out her free hand, "I'm Brianna Boho, by the way. What's your name? I'll give you a shoutout."

"I'm Final Girl," Final Girl replied and shook her hand, "and you don't need to give me a shout out or anything."

"Final Girl?!" Brianna repeated.

She felt her cheeks turn red again. She hadn't meant to use that name. That was so dumb. She should've just said Brenda. "Yeah, it's a—"

"You're from the high school mansion thing the Chosen did! You're one of them!"

Final Girl paused and glanced to the Chosen, who only nodded. Despite herself, she felt her chest swell with pride. "I- yeah. That's me."

"That's so cool! You're so cool! He's talked so much about you guys!" Brianna jumped and clapped in excitement. "This is like meeting a celebrity—which I've done a ton—but so much cooler because no one else knows who you are!"

Final Girl did everything she could to keep from bursting out into laughter. "Thanks."

Brianna plugged her phone into the powerbank and started to backtrack from the register. "Okay, okay—I have to go call Bryce and let him know I'm alive. But thank you so much!"

"You're welcome!" she called after her.

Brianna hurried out of the store, with Final Girl grinning and the Chosen watching after her.

"She is wild ," Final Girl said.

"She can be a lot," the Chosen replied.

Brianna, with the phone to her ear and the powerbank dangling down from it (though cradled carefully in her other hand), stuck her head back in through the store's doors and tugged her head back to get the Chosen to come with her.

"Oh—I didn't realize she wanted me to follow," the Chosen said. Final Girl laughed and he started after Brianna. As he did, Final Girl started again to absentmindedly play with things around her—this time a bracelet around her wrist. She glanced down at it and realized what it was, a sudden inspiration striking her.

"Chosen!" she shouted to him. He turned back halfway out of the store. She pulled off the bracelet and threw it to him, with him narrowly able to catch it amongst the half a dozen bags weighing his arms down and impeding his movement. He opened his hands to look at the bracelet cradled there. It was a simple woven friendship bracelet of green, red, purple, blue, and yellow, with beads spelling out "THE JOKES ON US" in the center.

He glanced up to her and raised an eyebrow. "I-?"

"Me and Regina made those for everyone. I was supposed to give you one, but I don't have yours with me, so you can take mine and I'll take the other," she explained.

The Chosen paused, then nodded, slipping the bracelet in his pocket before turning and leaving the store to join Brianna. Final Girl continued to smile after them, touching the empty spot where the bracelet had sat on her wrist.

***

Regina O'Brien was not expecting to get the text she did from the Chosen.

What are your fees for traveling nail tech services?

—Chosen (12:17pm)

The follow up text felt more right, but still didn't clear much up.

It's not for me.

—Chosen (12:21pm)

It turned out that, no, it wasn't for him, but instead a friend of his whose usual manicurist wasn't available. So, trying to help out, he thought he'd reach out to the best person he could think of that did any work with beauty.

Regina was a little flattered, even if she knew the real reason he reached out was that by "best" he meant "only." Still, it was business, and she couldn't pass up any opportunities for new clients.

She got him the rates and he got her his friend, Brianna's, contact info. Color options were picked and the date was set.

As for directions to her place? Well...

Regina sat in her car outside the Chosen's house, parked at the curb and scrolling through Instagram posts from some of the other cheerleaders from her team in high school. Three were married, one was having her second kid, two were fitness gurus—everyone looked happy. Successful.

She had tried so hard to keep in touch with them, even getting dinner with them when they all could meet up, but every single time was...strenuous. She felt so distant from them as they talked, especially when they tried to reminisce about school. That had all got turned into a blur to her, all the parts that weren't about training to save the world, at least. She couldn't remember the boys she dated or pep rallies or classes or parties, she only remembered the martial arts and road trips with the rest of the Jokes (it was what Criss Darren had started lovingly calling them all after the bracelets she and Final Girl had made.) Anytime they laughed about the memories, she just had to pretend to laugh with them. She got good at that, at least, because she sure wasn't getting good at remembering what they were laughing about. Honestly, the only parts she could remember well were the parts she regretted—the ways she was mean to people. And they weren't going to laugh at that. In fact, they didn't seem to remember those parts. It was a nightmare.

The door popped open and the car dinged in response as the Chosen ducked into the passenger seat. Regina glanced over to him as he shut the door, then he turned to her and held out a bottle of Lemon-Lime Gatorade, his other hand holding a Glacier Freeze one.

"Oh my gosh," she said with a smile.

"By all logic, we're heading on a road trip—I thought it proper we continue our tradition," he replied.

She laughed and took the drink, then reached over with it to tap its lid to his bottle's to cheers it. "Then I'm buying the next one."

"Deal."

She slipped it into the cup holder and put her phone away as she readied to pull the car away from the curb. "So why's this girl making you play GPS instead of giving me her address?"

"Someone online got into some drama with her and doxxed her, so she's worried about people having her address," he replied.

"They doxxed...wouldn't that mean...?" Regina repeated, starting the car down the street, then shook her head, "You know what? Whatever, it's not important. If this makes this girl feel better, I'll drive with you."

So the two headed through the city, winding along the streets by the Chosen's direction until, at some point, Regina started to question if he knew where they were actually going. Surely the houses they were passing weren't right. These were practically mansions . This could not be the girl he was friends with. There was no way he would know someone like this (of course, besides herself in another life.)

"Chosen, be honest with me," Regina started, "and also don't be mad about this question—"

"It's hard to promise a response to something I don't know the context of," the Chosen replied.

"Sure, whatever," Regina replied, then continued: "are we lost?"

The Chosen quirked an eyebrow. "No? We're almost there."

"Wha-? Almost there? So this is right?"

"Yes? This is where Brianna lives," the Chosen pointed ahead of them, "next left turn and it's the third house on your right."

Regina took a deep breath, still trying to process the concept as she took the left turn down a winding path of huge houses overlooking Los Angeles until they came up to the third house. There was a tall walled fence around the front, but the gate for the driveway was opened (Regina assumed from the Chosen texting Brianna), and as Regina pulled in, she felt again floored by how large not only the driveway itself was, but the house, too.

Regina parked her car besides the others already there and stared up at the glittering structure of white walls and pristine glass windows ahead of her.

"Oh...my gosh," she muttered.

"They're waiting for us inside," the Chosen said, unphased and instead staring down at his phone as he got out of the car. Regina just nodded.

Eventually she got out and felt like she floated to the door despite having to roll her traveling kit besides her the whole way. She was so entranced by the house and its landscaping that she couldn't even recall the steps she took to get there, she was just suddenly at the door with the Chosen waiting for someone to answer his knock.

"I cannot believe you know someone who lives in a house like this," Regina said, " how in the world did the universe play that joke?"

"As if I don't have the skills to meet someone like this on my own," he said, crossing his arms (of course.)

Regina rolled her eyes. "You don't."

The Chosen was quiet, knowing he had no retort.

"We played blackjack once," he said.

"And what? She lost and had to be your friend?"

The Chosen glared at her as she grinned at him. Regina bumped him with her hip.

"I'm teasing," she said, "the only person who beats you at cards is me."

The Chosen returned his focus to the door when he spotted a shadow approach through the frosted glass window. "That didn't count—I was exhausted the last time we played."

"Sure, that's why you messed up your land cards. Exhaustion."

The door was thrown open and on the opposite side was the excitable blonde from Raising Cane's that had picked up the Chosen (definitely Brianna. Regina didn't even have to ask.)

"Chosen, oh my gosh, hi!" Brianna said, throwing her arms out and immediately hugging the Chosen who did not hug her back. Regina stifled her laugh (though not her smirk. It was fun to see the outside perspective of what it must have been like back during the training days every time she went and hugged him herself, though it probably wasn't with this much fervor as she watched Brianna nearly jump with excitement as she did it.) Brianna eventually pulled back and turned to Regina to flip her hair back over her shoulder as the Chosen straightened out his shirt.

"Hey, I'm Brianna Boho," she said, seemingly trying to pose against her doorway like she would for a photo, "but you probably know that."

"Definitely, I've heard a lot about you," Regina replied, keeping the addition of 'from the texts we've had back and forth' only in her head and not out loud like she might've said if this wasn't for a job. She had to keep it professional if she wanted a good rating, and, if she was lucky, recommendations.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool being famous," she said, "and you're...Regina, right?"

"Yes," Regina said and pulled out one of her cards from the top of her nail kit to hand over. Brianna stared at it for a moment before taking it and then studied it.

"So wait, like, you're just...a person?" she asked.

Regina eyed her. "Uh...yes?"

"Oh my gosh—I thought I was, like, booking with an agency this whole time. This is wild," she laughed.

Regina took a deep breath, then nodded. "Mm-hm!"

"So cool. You guys come in!" she said and hopped back into her house.

Regina watched after her for a moment, then leaned over to the Chosen. "Please tell me she lost at blackjack."

He was quiet.

"She won didn't she?" she asked.

"Yes."

"And how did you do?"

"Can we go inside?"

"Oh... my gosh," Regina sighed and headed into the house, nail kit rolling along behind her and the Chosen a few steps behind.

The interior was decorated like Regina expected now that she had seen the girl who owned the house. "Modern art" on the walls (probably prints of NFTs someone convinced her to buy into), pictures of herself, and white walls that had to get cleaned after every party by a hazmat team.

Regina was doing her best to bite her tongue—especially when there were things that didn't line up, like the fact that she definitely heard Good Charlotte playing in the other room (something she only knew because Final Girl had insisted on them being on the playlists on so many of the road trips back during the training days.)

They headed down the entry hall until reaching the living room where Brianna was hurrying back to them—but more specifically to the Chosen.

"I totally forgot!" she squealed and grabbed his hand before dragging him over to the shelves around the massive flat screen displaying the Mario Kart menu screen on the wall. Brianna plucked a short figurine of a girl with teal pigtails from one of the shelves and excitedly showed it to him. "Augustus got her for me! She's that robot girl that sings— Hat- Hats- Hats-on-a Miku!"

"Hatsune Miku," a voice corrected from the side of the room. Regina glanced over and saw a man in a purple flannel step out of the kitchen with a mug in one hand as he pushed his glasses up with his other. She did a slight double take as she noticed him, both because he looked as much of a nerd as the Chosen did and she could not fathom how someone like Brianna would choose to hang out with both of them (unless that's just what all of her friends looked like and she misjudged this girl), but also because she could not misplace the feeling that she knew him from somewhere. Something about him was so familiar, from the voice to the greasy hair (which...she honestly wanted to ask about. She had suggestions.)

Also, this made the music choice clearer to Regina. This was definitely the guy who picked it.

"Yes! Hatsune Miku!" Brianna repeated, then held up the figurine closer to the Chosen. "Isn't she cute?"

"Sure," the Chosen replied.

"Personally I prefer everyone's favorite 31-year-old chimera, Kasane Teto," Augustus said, "but I knew who she would be more a fan of."

These people were weird.

Brianna put the figurine back, still a wide smile on her face as she turned back towards the guy who walked out of the kitchen and pointed towards him while looking to the Chosen and Regina. "Also—you totally reminded me of this, Augustus—but if either of you want snacks or anything, my chef was here earlier and left us a ton of good stuff."

"Good is relative; I have notes," Augustus replied and took a sip from his mug. Even his name was ringing a bell to Regina, but she just couldn't place it and it irked her.

"If you write them down, I will definitely let him know," Brianna replied.

"Oh, I already have been," he said.

Eventually, Regina got enough of Brianna's attention to figure out where she was setting up her station to work. Brianna had already cleared off the dining table (or, more likely, had her maid do it) for her to work at, and Regina got to laying out her supplies. She made sure to lay out a cloth across the glass table top to keep from causing any more problems for the maid. The Chosen had checked in on her briefly while she was working, but, unsurprisingly, got distracted when the other two were starting another game of Mario Kart and joined them for that instead.

She stood up once she was done, ready to let Brianna know she was ready, yet held off once she noticed how they were playing. Every single one of them was leaned in and intently focused, the competitiveness palpable. And yet...

"What do I press to use things again?" Brianna asked.

"Right bumper—Chosen, I swear —" Augustus warned.

"The red shell wasn't me this time, it was Toad!" the Chosen replied.

"Then get him out of here!" Augustus said. "As long as he doesn't win again, I'll consider this race a success."

"Agreed."

"Is he in first?" Brianna asked.

"Right now he is," Augustus replied.

"If I can get ahead of you, Augustus, then I can at least hit him with a red shell and knock him back some," the Chosen said.

"That's not gonna do enough," he said.

"Okay, guys, hold on," Brianna said.

"Brianna, you're in 6th—" the Chosen said.

"Just trust me!" she replied.

Regina watched the screen as a blast lit up on Augustus's screen. The purple figure he played as sped past the one spinning out in the mushroom hat (neither of whom Regina knew the names of.) In seconds, he was crossing the finish line, with the Chosen's blonde elf boy following right behind. Even before Brianna finished the race, the three were already leaping off the couch and cheering.

"You had a blue shell?!" Augustus asked Brianna.

"You're welcome! " Brianna said.

"It was excellent timing for it," the Chosen said.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Thank you."

"Speaking of excellent timing," Regina piped in, getting their attentions, "I finished setting up for your nails, Brianna."

"Oh my gosh! That's so funny—we literally just finished!" Brianna gasped, throwing the controller onto the cushions and then climbing over the couch and leapt over the back of it. Regina took a deep breath and smiled. It was so hard to fight her high school instincts when she was on a job some days.

As she sat down with Brianna and let her pick through the colors, her ear picked up on the Chosen and Augustus continuing their conversation.

"You played an impressive game, Augustus," the Chosen told him.

"It's like I told you—we might've been matched at Mario Kart in high school, but I've been practicing plenty since then," Augustus replied as he closed out of the game.

And that's where it clicked for Regina. That's why she knew him. High school, obviously. But more specifically, this was that Augustus. The one the Chosen wouldn't talk about. Or at least, wouldn't talk about until he was feeling the roughest and Regina could get it out of him. The days when training felt the hardest, the days when it felt the least worth it.

"I think I wanna do the lime," Brianna said, snapping Regina back to the table.

"Good choice," Regina replied and picked up the bottle, "just the one color?"

"Yeah," she said. She propped her leg up against the edge of the table. It honestly looked uncomfortable to Regina with how the fishnets had to be digging into her skin, but Brianna didn't seem to notice. "And no fancy jewels or things either. I don't wanna get you in trouble."

Regina cocked her head as she set the color aside and reached for her tools to start on taking Brianna's old nails off. By this point, the Chosen and Augustus had joined them at the table, with Augustus approaching besides Brianna and the Chosen besides Regina.

"Why would that get me in trouble?" Regina asked as they sat down.

"Well, like, my last manicurist got arrested for embellishing, so I don't want that to happen to you," Brianna replied. The three watched her close. Regina spotted Augustus open his mouth, no doubt to correct Brianna that it was "embezzling", but instead, Regina cut him off with a nod.

"I appreciate that, Brianna," Regina said.

"Of course! I mean, you're the Chosen's friend. I'd hate to screw you over, especially if you turn out to be really good at this and I make you my new nail person."

"Thank you."

She felt a subtle look from Augustus strike her, but she ignored it, instead focusing on taking off Brianna's old gels and trimming the nails underneath. Besides them, the Chosen and Augustus had begun playing a game of Magic: the Gathering. Periodically, Regina caught herself eyeing it, though did keep her main focus on her work. It was only when she was waiting on something to dry did she catch herself glancing at the cards on the table or in the Chosen's hand.

"So how did you two meet?" Brianna asked, then gasped. "Or did the Chosen just look you up when I told him I needed someone to do my nails? Which would be super sweet of him."

"High school, actually," Regina replied, pushing back Brianna's cuticles.

"Really? Like, from a club or something?" she asked.

Regina glanced over to the Chosen. He didn't look back at her, instead staying focused on the cards (though Regina did notice Augustus studying the Chosen intensely.)

"She knows," the Chosen replied, "they both do."

Regina nodded and returned her focus to Brianna's nails. "We trained together."

"Wait—you were at the mansion thing, too?!" Brianna asked.

"Yep," she replied, then smirked, "I'm actually the other person who got to wield the spear."

"Not that we got to use it," the Chosen said.

"Yeah, but I just want to make sure you don't take all the bragging rights," Regina teased.

"I can't believe it!" Brianna squealed, slapping Augustus's shoulder with the hand Regina wasn't working on, "I've met two of them now! I knew the name Regina sounded familiar, but all I could think of was Mean Girls! "

Regina laughed, yet still noticed Augustus's reaction to Brianna in the moment. The way his jaw clenched at the mention of the mansion and he was no longer looking at anyone at the table, instead focusing on the cards. When Brianna tried to get him to share her excitement, he went cold against it (though Brianna didn't seem to notice.)

"Definitely exciting," Augustus replied, his voice devoid of enthusiasm.

It didn't help that Brianna then went all in on the questions about the mansion and what it was like training. Regina answered, of course, she had to keep the customer happy, but she had grown incredibly aware of the tension forming besides her between the Chosen and Augustus. Mitigating that was a new challenge she hadn't seen often with her job. If she really wanted five stars, she couldn't let that pot boil over.

Either that, or she could let it go nuclear and just make sure she got paid.

No, she thought to herself, it's beyond work. These are friends of a friend. Figure it out. You can't let it explode and walk away—you're better than that. That's the old you .

She kept the answers neutral and left them vague enough to not set off Augustus but substantial enough to satisfy Brianna. It was easy enough to do—she seemed excited to get any new perspectives that weren't from the Chosen. It made Regina wonder what all he had actually explained and how, because Brianna was ravenous for all of it.

In the middle of filing the nails on Brianna's left hand as her right finished under the UV lamp, Brianna's phone began to ring. The ringtone was the most awful rap song (if it could be called that) Regina had ever heard, and she did her best not to react to it, though she was happy to see Augustus cringe at the sound of it.

"Is that seriously Bryce again?" Augustus asked.

"Yeah..." Brianna sighed.

"Is he being obnoxious like usual?" the Chosen asked.

"No, he just—" she started.

"No, don't mince words, he's being awful," Augustus interrupted, "he's pretending to help with the whole doxxing thing but he's making it worse. I almost had it fixed but he came in and just confirmed all of it when he went live on TikTok."

"He was trying to help," Brianna pleaded.

"Well, he didn't ," Augustus snapped, "correcting the address from 'east' to 'west' is not helping."

She frowned and then looked to Regina. "Can I...?"

Regina nodded. "Go ahead. The nails on the right hand should be dry."

"Thanks," Brianna said, pulling her hand back from Regina's and picking up her phone before getting up and leaving the table and room. As she stepped outside, they heard her saying hi to Bryce. The three watched her walk out through her backyard for a bit before they turned back to the table, the boys to their card game and Regina to cleaning up at least part of her work area. There was only so much she could grab (she tended to keep things tidy while she worked,) so eventually she just ended up just relaxing in her chair and watching them play Magic. She studied the cards in the Chosen's hand, then on the table in front of him.

"You're not gonna have enough mana for that," she said.

"You don't know my strategy," he replied.

"O- kay ," she said, grabbing the Gatorade he had gotten her earlier from where she had it sitting out of the way on the floor next to her chair, "but that's exactly how you lost to me last time. Just warning you."

Augustus shook his head. "I'm sorry— you play Magic?"

"Only because he needed someone else to play it with on the road trips and there was no way I was helping Criss Darren practice for regionals like Final Girl would," Regina replied before taking a drink.

Augustus smirked. "Oh—so I bet you don't even know any of the lore of the game."

Regina studied him. He was testing her, and he was looking to win. He'd give her challenge after challenge in a game he knew every answer to until she couldn't answer one so he could feel better about himself.

Unfortunately for him, she knew how to play this game.

The Chosen frowned. "Augustus, she—"

"Oh no, I don't," Regina said with a shrug, "never bothered."

There was a slight quirk to Augustus's brow as he failed to process how quickly she submitted to that.

"Well," he started, so thrown off that the confidence he had in his words from before wasn't carrying through to make the sentence form as quickly, "glad to see I was right."

"Yeah, I just needed to learn the rules and read the cards and to beat him at it," she continued, turning her attention to her bag. She felt his stare still on her, but this time ignored it, instead unzipping her crossbody bag by her "THE JOKES ON US" bracelet she had attached to it with a metal ring so it would always be with her. She pulled out her phone to check it, noticing, out of the corner of her eye, Augustus recognizing both the bracelet on her bag and then the matching one on the Chosen's wrist.

"It must be nice," Augustus started, clear annoyance in his voice. Regina eyed him from her phone.

"What is?" the Chosen asked.

"Being all back together," he replied.

Regina shrugged. "I guess. We're still getting used to it."

"It seems like you're back to old times to me," Augustus said.

The Chosen shifted uncomfortably in his seat besides Regina. Clearly this was not a topic he tried to broach often with Augustus, and now they were all stuck in the middle of it.

"Okay," Regina started, sitting herself straight and upright in her chair, leaning forward on the table to commandeer the space. It definitely didn't help the Chosen's tension besides her, but Augustus certainly reacted well to someone responding with the same level of confrontation to him and gave her his full attention. "It is nice, I'll give you that. I like being able to see my friends again."

"But?"

"What but? Who said there had to be a downside?"

"The way you phrased it implies there is."

She shook her head. "You might be reading too much into it."

"I think you're not analyzing your own words."

"Do you want there to be one?"

Augustus scowled at her.

"It's a genuine question," she continued.

Augustus had turned his attention back to the card game in front of him, no longer able to look her in the face. "And here I remembered you being one of the most vicious cheerleaders in high school. Guess you got soft."

Regina frowned, though tried not to let it get to her. She didn't think that was true, not when she still remembered the way the other girls on the team acted, but she still knew she wasn't the nicest in school, so it stung.

And honestly, the idea that she wasn't as "vicious" should have been a good thing, so why did she feel offended? Maybe it was just the competitiveness in her wanting to prove something—specifically to prove that he was being just as mean if they really got down to the nitty gritty of it. (But she couldn't make it that awful for the Chosen, especially if she wanted to stay friends with him and if these two were trying to be friends again from how everything seemed. What a mess of a situation.)

"I'm doing a job. I'm trying to keep things as amicable as possible for my business and everyone involved," she said.

He scoffed. "Of course—an inauthentic front. Unsurprising."

The Chosen's head snapped up. "Augustus—"

"I mean, you'd be the one to spot it," Regina replied, getting both of them to look at her, "since you've got your own one going on."

"What?" Augustus laughed. "I am as authentic as they come, thank you very much."

Regina eyed him, then turned back to her phone. "Okay."

"No, I am!"

"Okay."

"I- you can't just disengage."

"No, I totally believe you. And the more you insist, the more I believe you."

She felt Augustus's glare switch off her, no doubt going to the Chosen, but the Chosen only shook his head and shrugged.

Eventually, Brianna returned with less energy than she had before. She lied and said everything was fine. Bryce allegedly apologized and both of their managers were working on mitigating the situation, so she just wanted to focus on getting her nails finished.

As Regina worked on her other hand, Brianna laid her head against Augustus's shoulder and watched back and forth between Regina's work and the game of Magic, ignoring the periodic buzzings of her phone nearby. Aside from the music still going from the speakers along the wall, the room was mostly quiet.

Brianna reached over to Augustus as he watched the Chosen play a card, touching his free hand and uncurling his finger. "Your nail polish is chipping."

"I'm aware," Augustus replied.

"Regina could do them while she's here," she said, the slightest bit of joy starting to work its way back into her voice.

"I'm fine," he said.

"I'll pay!"

"I said I'm fine."

Brianna looked up to the Chosen. "Do you want your nails done, Chosen?"

"Not really," the Chosen replied.

"But she's doing such a good job," Brianna whined and held up her finished hand to show it off to him. Regina smiled at the gesture and continued working.

"I can see that," he said.

Brianna frowned and let her hand flop back down before she sighed. "Nobody wants to get their nails done with me."

Regina watched her as she finished up with the paint. There was nothing wrong with shooting her shot.

"Here," Regina started as she slipped Brianna's hand under the UV lamp. She grabbed another one of her cards out of her nail kit and scribbled down another girl from esthetician school's info she was still connected with on it. "Get a couple of your friends together and let me know if you want to do a nail night or something. I've got someone else who can help us out so everyone can get their nails done and it's not just me doing all of them."

"Are you serious?" Brianna asked, lighting up.

"Yeah," Regina said and handed the card over. Brianna took it, nearly leaping up out of her chair to do so. Regina held up a hand. "Careful—you're gonna mess up the other hand."

Brianna paused, then nodded and restrained herself, still smiling wide.

At the end of the appointment, Regina was back in her car. Brianna gave her five stars (in spite of Regina hearing Augustus quietly trying to convince her otherwise, saying no business deserved five stars. The Chosen thankfully shot that down and helped Brianna stick to her guns of forming her own opinion) and paid her a fine tip on top of her normal rate. The Chosen was staying behind to continue hanging out with Augustus and Brianna, but had walked her out to her car.

"She's...interesting," Regina said, "but sweet."

"Yeah," the Chosen said, then glanced away, "sorry about Augustus, though."

"He's got a lot to work through," she replied.

The Chosen gave her a curious look. "What do you mean?"

She raised an eyebrow. He thought Augustus's confidence was real. Admittedly, it could be with time. But right now, it was fractured. He did put up a good front, though, she'd give him that.

For a moment, she contemplated broaching the topic, but then thought better of it. It wasn't her place. That was for Augustus.

"Nevermind," she said and waved a dismissive hand as she got in her car, "you guys have fun."

The Chosen watched her for another moment, but eventually stepped back as she started to pull away and gave her a wave before heading back inside. The image of him stuck in her head as she drove off—the images of everyone in their weird little group of Jokes did, really.

Augustus did win that point. It was nice being back together.

***

Brianna was going with the Chosen to see Criss Darren's performance in the play The Shape of Things that he invited all of the Jokes to come see. The others had already gone to see it, but this night was the only one the Chosen was able to. (Brianna also convinced Bryce to go, but he was driving separate.)

As soon as Brianna found out this was Criss Darren's first time as a lead performer, she insisted on going and bringing him a huge bouquet of roses (which, for now, the Chosen was holding in his lap.)

"So he's another one from the mansion, right?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"I think it's so cool you've all met up again! Does this mean, like, you're gonna have to go on an adventure or something?"

"No, that's not the purpose of our universe."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed, but she wasn't the only one; she was just late to it. "Well, couldn't you make your own adventures or something?"

"We're trying to focus on making our own purposes in life now."

Brianna was quiet for a time.

"Oh," she finally said.

He had tried to figure out how to explain it to her dozens of times before, but he had never settled on a good way to do it. The nuances of the situation were...a bit above what he thought she could handle, and he hadn't quite figured out how to simplify it without giving her a step by step from the beginning. And if he tried that, well...

He had been trained to fight demons, sure, just not the ones inside himself. He was only just starting to learn how to handle those.

They reached the theater where the Chosen handed the roses back over to Brianna after they got out of her car. Upon approaching the entrance, they found Bryce waiting outside, paying attention to nothing but his phone.

"Hi, Bryce!" Brianna said and hugged him, with him barely glancing up by the time she had her free arm around him.

"Oh, hey, babe," he replied, at least managing to give a partial hug back in time before she pulled back. When she did, his hand lingered on her waist, but his eyes caught onto the Chosen nearby and confusion crept in through the already vaguely lost look in his face. Brianna noticed and glanced back to the Chosen.

"Oh, right! Bryce, this is the Chosen," Brianna said, "he's my friend I play games with sometimes for that Youtube channel that has the people that look like us. I told you about him."

Bryce hesitated, then nodded as if maybe any of that rang a bell. "Yeah, right. Sounds good."

"Yeah. His friend is actually the one in the play which is really cool and why I've got these," she said, holding up the roses.

Bryce cocked his head. "He got... you flowers for...his performance?"

Brianna rolled her eyes. "No, Bryce, I got them for him."

He stood there for another moment before further confusion crossed his face and he slowly pointed at the Chosen.

" No , not for him. For Criss Darren. The one in the play," Brianna huffed.

"Oh, right," he said.

"Can we please go inside?" the Chosen asked, watching other people heading into the theater around them from the sidewalk and growing self conscious about how much space they were taking up.

"Hey, rude," Bryce replied and held up a hand, "we're having a conversation."

"Bryce..." Brianna sighed. She shook her head and took his hand, leading him and, by proxy of moving at all, the Chosen, into the theater. "Let's just go."

The three made it through the crowds and found their way to seats. If Brianna hadn't been holding onto Bryce's hand, the Chosen was sure he would've gotten lost in the throng of people since not once during the walk did he look away from his phone. Brianna must have been used to it, as she was adept at navigating herself and Bryce through it all.

They sat in almost the exact middle of the theater by Brianna's insistence, wanting to have the best view of the stage as they could get. Once they were comfortable, she leaned back and set her feet up on back of the seat in front of her as she paged through the playbill, roses cradled in her lap. Instinctually, the Chosen followed suit with one of his own. He spotted Bryce eyeing them.

"So...how long have you guys been friends?" Bryce asked.

"They met in high school," Brianna answered.

"Babe—I meant you two."

She frowned at him. "I've told you about this, babe."

"Yeah, but like..." he started, "...tell me again."

Brianna rolled her eyes. "Like...three years. Do you not listen?"

"Woah, I'm just asking a question," Bryce replied.

Brianna shook her head. "Sorry, I'm just...sorry."

The Chosen crossed his arms tight across his chest, wishing the play would start already to keep the conversation from possibly getting any worse.

Thankfully for him, it did. And extra thankfully, Brianna got invested in it quickly (Bryce didn't, but that wasn't a surprise. He at least had the brightness on his phone down and was quiet.) Brianna, though, was enraptured with Criss Darren's performance on the stage as Adam—which, yes, was very good. The Chosen wasn't surprised, as he remembered overhearing Criss Darren practice back during the training days and he was already quite talented then, so there was no doubt he had improved with time.

The Chosen tried to stay focused on studying Criss Darren's acting, though repeatedly got interrupted by Brianna.

"Aw, she's helping him improve himself," she whispered, remarking on the character of Evelyn (Adam's girlfriend) encouraging him to change his hair and take up exercising.

"Mm-hm," the Chosen mumbled.

The play continued with Brianna continuing to make little comments on it to him to the point he started to wonder if she was so invested she had forgotten these were actors portraying the characters and not real people's lives they were watching.

As it went on, there came a scene that the Chosen himself couldn't decide whether it would have been more preferable to have been unable to separate character from actor when sitting through it. It was supposed to be an implied tail end of a sex scene when it started, and he really didn't want to think about that when it was his friend on stage (or at all, really.) He instead distracted himself by flipping through the Playbill again and reading the other actors' names and personal blurbs and hoped Brianna didn't have any crass comments about the scene.

To his surprise, she stayed quiet, which made him glance up to her. Her eyes were locked onto the stage, though not fully on the actors, which made him also look to the stage despite his apprehensions to doing so. At first, he didn't notice what she was transfixed on—until he saw the part of the set dressing she did: the camera pointed at the bed the actors were on.

At first, the characters didn't bring it up, but Brianna stayed focused on it. Eventually, it was mentioned.

"Were you nervous earlier?" Evelyn's actress began, pointing to the camera from where she laid in the bed. "I mean, about us with the video?"

"Nah, not really," Criss Darren (as Adam, of course) replied from besides her. He paused. "...a bit."

"You sure?" she asked.

"Yeah. It's just..." he shook his head, "...let's not watch it, okay?"

The Chosen saw Brianna shift uncomfortably besides him, stealing the quickest of glances to the still oblivious Bryce on his phone besides her before returning her focus to the stage.

The play continued, but Brianna's comments became much more infrequent. And when the lights came up on Adam and Evelyn in a plastic surgeon's waiting room, she had nearly gone silent.

"You had your nose done? Honestly?" Adam asked Evelyn.

"At sixteen. My parents' birthday present," Evelyn replied.

"Thoughtful."

"No, I asked for it!"

Adam laughed. "I can't believe it—I can't tell."

"That's the idea, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "Yeah...but you could be lying to me."

Evelyn eyed him. "And what would be the point of that?"

"Because she wants you to do what she wants," Brianna whispered.

The Chosen frowned as she clutched the roses closer. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what.

And as it went on, she didn't have any more to say, either.

He heard her breath waver after the scene in the coffee shop, when Evelyn made Adam promise to give up seeing his only friends for her. When the lights came up for the next scene, he glanced over to her, noticing that her cheeks were glistening with streaks of tears. (He almost didn't notice it since, of course, he was still wearing his sunglasses inside like he always did, but he could still tell.)

He wasn't sure what to do. He had never been the best at comforting people, and he knew Brianna was someone who liked physical touch, which he did not prefer. Not to mention the fact that her literal boyfriend was on the opposite side of her, so if he did anything that could be misconstrued when Bryce clearly was already not the Chosen's biggest fan, it could get bad. So he tried the only option he could think of.

The Chosen leaned over to Brianna. "Are you okay—?"

Before he even finished whispering to her, she had dropped her head onto his shoulder and let out a shaky sigh, the paper around the roses crinkling as she held them tighter. The Chosen froze, feeling his body tense up against her touch. He couldn't even risk turning his head away from the stage now, lest he find out whether or not Bryce noticed and how mad he might've been. (Of course, that's if Bryce could manage an emotion besides half-hearted apathy, which is all the Chosen had ever seen from him.)

The play continued and, for Brianna's emotions, did not get better. In fact, they reached the point of no return. An entire monologue where Evelyn revealed she had done all she did to Adam for an art project. Making him change his hair, give up his favorite clothes, change his body, leave his friends—not because she loved him, but to sculpt him into a "more desirable person." (The Chosen could feel Brianna shaking against his shoulder as she tried to hold herself together.)

And then one of the characters onstage shouted that "This is fucked!"

And Brianna shot up in her seat to tearily shouted back: "Yeah it is!"

"Brianna!" the Chosen said in a harsh whisper. She immediately slapped a hand to her mouth and fell back in her seat, slouching low to try and hide. Even more tears were streaming from her eyes.

"I'm sorry..." she whimpered.

"At least something exciting happened," Bryce said. Brianna punched his shoulder.

The Chosen looked back to the stage. Criss Darren hadn't reacted at all to the shout. Unsurprising—he was always a professional. It seemed the rest of the actors on stage were able to adjust themselves and continue without interruption, too.

Brianna, though, stayed a wreck besides the Chosen for the rest of the play. As soon as it was over and the bows began, she was first to her feet to give a standing ovation for Criss Darren.

***

Criss Darren Whittmore didn't have any trouble finding the Chosen after the show—it's not like many other people would wear sunglasses to a play.

"Hey!" Criss Darren said as he walked up to him. "Thanks for coming!"

"Yeah," the Chosen nodded, crossing his arms like he always did nearly anytime he had to talk to anyone, a move halfway between casual and defense mechanism, "it was...pretty good."

"You should've seen me the first night—I was terrified," he laughed, "Regina and Final Girl said they couldn't tell, but I certainly felt it."

"Your ability to handle your nerves is impressive. It always has been."

Criss Darren put his hand to his chest and smiled. "Thank you!"

"As I recall, you were always the one to recover first from shakeups during training," the Chosen started, then hesitated and glanced in another direction, "which...I wanted to apologize for what happened with my friend tonight."

Criss Darren followed his gaze and spotted a blonde woman (definitely Brianna Boho from the description Final Girl had given him after she met her at Hot Topic) standing a bit of a ways away with an armful of roses, arguing with another man that...had on a pair of sunglasses. Just a simple small pair with red lenses, but still sunglasses (was this a trend now? This guy definitely dressed more in line with Brianna's style, though, so he definitely wasn't mimicking the Chosen's look. Did people just do this?)

"Is she the one that got passionate during the monologue?" Criss Darren asked. The Chosen pursed his lips and sighed. Criss Darren shook his head and laughed. "She's fine. It's one of the last performances, anyway. And it's nice to see someone so invested."

"Sorry for not coming to see it sooner," the Chosen replied.

"Hey, you still came and saw it," he said.

The Chosen motioned to Brianna. "She wants to meet you before we go."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. She wants to be able to say she's met everyone who went to the mansion in person. Plus I think she might need to talk to you to realize you are a separate person from Adam."

"Well, I don't know how she's going to meet Mr. Grub since not even we know where he is, so that might be a little difficult for her to meet everyone ."

"I think she's just focused on my friends right now."

"Then let's not keep her waiting!" Criss Darren said, then leaned in towards the Chosen as he started towards Brianna, "Besides, whoever's bothering her seems like a piece of work."

"That's her boyfriend, Bryce," the Chosen warned.

"So I'm right," he replied.

The Chosen frowned as they approached, adding quietly: "Yeah."

When they grew closer, they got to hear the argument for themselves.

"It's like you weren't even paying attention!" Brianna said.

"What? Like—no, I totally was, babe," Bryce replied, "the girl made him hot. That's a good thing."

"Oh my gosh , Bryce, no! You didn't hear, like, any of the way she talked about him! It was so...manipulative and mean and she just, like, made him into an object for her content!"

Bryce watched Brianna's palpable frustration with a slightly dropped jaw and confusion on his face to the point he looked to the Chosen for any kind of help from the situation. The Chosen gave him nothing except to stare back at him, but at the very least Brianna noticed Bryce was no longer looking at her and checked out what caught his attention instead. When she saw that the Chosen had come over with Criss Darren, it was like a switch flipped and she buried all her anger to replace it with excitement (apparently Criss Darren wasn't the only actor present.)

"Hi, oh my gosh! You must be Criss Darren!" Brianna greeted.

"And you must be Brianna Boho!" Criss Darren replied, matching her energy to hopefully break the tension that still lingered in the air around them.

She gasped, genuinely looking flattered. " Yes , oh my gosh —you know me?"

"I might've heard of you," he said with a smirk.

"I'm Bryce Chryson, her boyfriend," Bryce added as well, earning a side eye from Brianna.

"That's very nice," Criss Darren replied.

"Don't make this about you," Brianna whispered to Bryce.

"I was just introducing myself," he mumbled back.

Brianna turned back to Criss Darren, the smile forced back onto her face as she held out the roses to him. "These are for you, by the way!"

"Wait, really?" Criss Darren asked as he took them.

"Yeah! Chosen told me this was your first time in a lead role, so I wanted to help you celebrate," she rolled her eyes, "and he said I couldn't bring you shots."

"I mean," Criss Darren shrugged and grinned, "what are you doing later?"

Bryce eyed him. "Kinda rude to hit on my girlfriend right in front of me."

Brianna frowned. "Bryce—"

"He's not hitting on her," the Chosen interrupted.

"Why not? She's hot," Bryce replied.

The Chosen and Criss Darren stared at Bryce for a moment, then looked to each other.

"What am I missing?" Bryce asked.

"Bryce," Criss Darren started, turning back to him, "I'm gay. I'm not interested in Brianna like that."

"Well, like," Bryce began, making Brianna shut her eyes as the frustration reared it's head back through her and festered to the point she was struggling to contain it besides him as if she knew where he was about to go with this, "Brianna's gay sometimes, so you might be."

"I can assure you mine isn't 'sometimes,'" Criss Darren replied with a laugh, hoping that last ditch effort might diffuse the bomb about to explode in Brianna.

It, however, did not.

"My sexuality is fluid, Bryce, not a 'sometimes,'" she snapped, "which you would know if you ever listened once to what I said." She shot him a glare (to which he only looked back at her with the same apathetic confusion he'd had the whole night) before she took a deep breath and returned her focus to Criss Darren with a tired smile. "It was really nice to meet you Criss, and you did so good that I'm gonna make sure I tell everyone I know about it and post about how, like, stellar you were because you were genuinely so good."

"Thank you, Brianna," Criss Darren replied with a smile.

"We should go, though." She eyed Bryce. "In our separate cars."

"That's what we came in," Bryce replied.

"I know ," she said, already starting to walk off. The three men watched her leave. The Chosen, after a moment, wordlessly turned to Criss Darren, both giving a nod to each other before he followed after her.

Criss Darren, ready to leave himself, looked back to Bryce. "It was nice to meet you, Bryce. I hope you enjoyed the show."

"Yeah," Bryce nodded, then held up a hand, "hey—can I ask you a question?"

Criss Darren shrugged. "Sure."

Bryce motioned in the direction of where Brianna and the Chosen went off. "Like I know you said you weren't into her, but..."

Criss Darren laughed. "Oh, no. Trust me when I say he's not either."

Bryce's eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. "So...he's...also gay?"

He shook his head. "No. At least I'm pretty sure he's not."

Bryce continued his pensive contemplation, clearly doing more thinking than he had done at all that night. "Then...like...what...?"

"He's just not interested in your girlfriend, okay?"

Bryce kept watching him for a moment, then nodded and started to wander off. Criss Darren studied him as he left before pulling out his phone, the matching bracelet he and the rest of the Jokes had dangling from the case as he started to type out his text to at least give the Chosen a heads up about Bryce.

Then he paused, feeling a sudden spark of spite take hold instead.

He deleted the text and returned the phone to his pocket.

Chapter Text

It was late and the Chosen and Augustus were gaming. Not together, though, but at the same time. Augustus was busy crafting in Final Fantasy 14 while the Chosen was grinding in his private Runescape Classic server he ran. Together, however, they were connected on a Discord call.

" I swear if I have to go back and get more Dravanian Spring Water to make more Holy Water because I miscalculated the amount of Rainbow Cloth I end up making, I am not going to be happy, " Augustus said through the Chosen's headset.

"Your calculations sounded right to me. You should be fine," the Chosen replied.

" You say that now, but if I mess up even once on the crafting, everything's screwed. There is a precise order to these buttons I must focus on. "

"By your own words, you've mastered many arts of the Disciple of the Land and of the Hand, Augustus. Believe in yourself more."

Augustus scoffed. " I do believe in myself, thank you, it's just the matter that we've got a couple thousand gil on the line per cloth alone for the guild and that puts a lot of pressure on me. "

"Mm," the Chosen hummed.

" Also, I don't feel like backtracking again. "

"Fair enough."

The two continued their games in silence for a bit, the Chosen's mind starting to wander as he fought the black unicorn on his screen. He had fought several that night trying to collect their horns, so the act was growing repetitive. 

"Do you have any word on Brianna?" he asked. "I know she wasn't in the best of moods the last time we all three were together."

" No, " Augustus replied, the chimes from successful crafting attempts coming through the Chosen's headphones every once in a while as he spoke, " she's probably still upset about her and Bryce's latest fight. "

"Dang it," the Chosen sighed, "I was hoping Operation: Barbenheimer would work."

" She was never gonna like Oppenheimer — "

"It wasn't about liking it—it was about distracting her."

" She fell asleep—! "

"That can be a distraction—"

" Maybe, but only if we didn't watch Barbie second and get her all upset about her and Bryce again ."

"Look—I was only going to sit through it at all because Brianna wanted to see it and you insisted on completing the meme, so I thought it would be best if we watched Oppenheimer first so she had something to look forward to." He then added: "Also, I didn't know what Barbie was going to be about."

" What have you got against Barbie , Chosen? "

"Nothing! I just wasn't planning to see it!"

There was a pause.

" Could Barbie be a Chosen? " Augustus asked.

The Chosen scoffed. "Of course she could. She believes in good and she adamantly abstains from the institutions of relationships and sex except for the relationship she was forced into by society. You could argue that the whole movie is showing she was Chosen with it being how she found her higher purpose to save her friends and free herself from the need of relationships."

" Hm ," Augustus mused.

The Chosen continued to contemplate the issue with Brianna.

"I feel like we need to find something else to distract her," the Chosen said.

"Barbie? She's not real, even if she did become human in the end and you cried about it," Augustus laughed.

"I didn't cry—"

" You totally cried. I saw it under your sunglasses ."

"Well—you also cried, so shut up."

" Yeah. I did. What of it? "

The Chosen frowned. "Anyway—Brianna. Distracting her."

" She is very distractible. Should be easy. "

"But apparently a movie won't do it. We need something slightly complicated that she can engage with more actively."

" Like what? There's only so many videogames she likes and I'm only starting to get her into anime. "

"Something that requires her to think and participate like a videogame, but with more agency."

Augustus hesitated. " Chosen, if you're going where I think you're going with this, then I don't think you know the gravity of what you're suggesting— "

"I think I do."

" She's not ready! "

"She can handle Dungeons & Dragons—I know she can!"

" Are you kidding?! The rules! The math! "

"She doesn't have to know it—only we do! We're the ones who have to handle the logistics; we'll do the heavy lifting of knowing the rules and answering the questions, all she has to do is handle the simple math that she can do on her phone if she has to. She can handle that!"

" You're a madman! "

"Look, all Brianna has to do is react to the situations I would set up for her as the Dungeon Master and you would help lead her through it as someone experienced in the game. It'd keep her mind off Bryce completely."

" Oh, of course you'd be the DM. "

"What, you don't want the opportunity to show off as a skilled adventurer who knows what he's doing to a noob?"

There was a pause.

" I'm free on Friday and Saturday after five, " Augustus replied.

"Thank you," the Chosen said, rolling his eyes.

***

That Saturday, the Chosen sat across from Brianna at Augustus's apartment's kitchen table, cleared off for the first time since the Chosen had reconnected with Augustus (the tabletop was black. Fascinating.) From besides her, the Chosen watched as Brianna paged through the Player's Handbook as he set up his dice and character sheets behind his DM screen. With how quick she was paging through it, she was clearly only looking at the pictures, but that was, frankly, what he expected to happen.

Getting her to come over was not an issue—Brianna had never turned down an opportunity to hang out with them (which...was always a surprise to the Chosen given the usual company she kept and how different he and Augustus were to them. But that was something to unpack later.) Getting her to understand what they were doing , though, was a completely different challenge. In fact, it could be considered the first quest of the night.

"So, like..." she started, cracking open the neon pink can of Ghost in front of her one handed despite her long nails (an impressive feat,) "...we're...like....playing make believe like we're five but with rules?"

"It's not make believe," the Chosen replied, crossing his arms, "you and Augustus will be going on an epic quest in a distant land of magic, enduring perils and creatures unheard of by many in our world."

Brianna frowned at him as she tapped the top of her can, gears working over time in her brain. "But...we're not going anywhere."

"Physically, no, you're not going anywhere. But mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, you'll be going to the far away land of Aurhalla. One filled with adventurers and villains, gods and demons, myth and magic."

"So like..." she started.

He begged so deeply for her to understand what he was getting at.

"... Shrek ," she finished.

The Chosen couldn't speak. He could only take a deep breath and stare at her. He was finally regretting not taking her to see Dungeons & Dragons with him and Augustus earlier that year.

"Quick question," Augustus started as he rejoined the table, setting the bowl of popcorn covered in butter and sugar that he made in the center of it that Brianna reached for. The Chosen looked up to him. "Did you say 'Aurhalla?'"

The Chosen nodded. "I did."

Augustus eyed him. "Pray tell: how have the lands been under your care?"

"They've faired well." The Chosen eyed him back. "Have they also been under yours?"

"They have." Augustus glanced off, as if reminiscing. "Some turmoil amidst Urbar and the Cinder Vale, but what's new?"

The Chosen scoffed. "Of course. They've never seen eye to eye."

"Never will, though they were in negotiations."

"Negotiations?"

Augustus shrugged and glanced down at his nails (newly painted.) "Perhaps there's been some...developments in vital trade routes after a certain cruel king regained power and other rulers have had to rethink their grudges in order to deal with him."

"King Grem?" The Chosen asked. Augustus gave a slow nod.

Brianna glanced between the both of them as she snacked on the popcorn.

"What are you two talking about?" she asked.

Augustus steepled his fingers. "The Chosen and I created Aurhalla together in high school and it appears we've both continued to develop it since then without each other."

"Aww," Brianna said with a smile.

"The implications of this will have to be discussed in depth later—we'll have to find out whether this means there's been a time dilation that split the world into two or some other factor, and perhaps what god or curse did it," the Chosen mused.

" Or it means you two still just always wanted to be friends and this is how you stayed connected!" Brianna replied, smile still wide.

The Chosen crossed his arms tighter and glanced away while Augustus just shook his head and grinned.

"Ugh, gross," Augustus laughed and sat down, looking over to the Player's Handbook in front of Brianna, "so, Brianna, do you have an idea for a character you want to play yet?"

"Like, a little bit?" Brianna said, straightening up in her seat and also turning her attention to the book. "So Chosen was explaining it to me and I kinda got an idea for something?"

"Do tell," Augustus prompted.

"I wanna be Dragon," she said, "from Shrek ."

The grin on Augustus's face grew wider as the Chosen's head snapped over to Brianna.

"What?" Augustus laughed.

"Yeah," Brianna replied. She turned to the Chosen. "It's Dungeons and Dragons, right? So I can be a dragon, right?"

"I- you can be a dragonborn, sure," the Chosen replied before shaking his head, "why do you want to be the dragon from Shrek ?"

"Because she's hot, duh," Brianna said. The response made Augustus absolutely light up besides her and the Chosen regret everything about setting this up in the first place.

"You've got to be freaking kidding me," the Chosen mumbled.

"You're telling me you wouldn't have sex with—?" Brianna cut herself off, "Nevermind, you wouldn't," she turned her attention from the Chosen to Augustus, "—you would have sex with Dragon, right? She's super hot."

Augustus set his hand on Brianna's shoulder, still grinning from ear to ear. "Brianna, I am so excited to learn this about you and I will absolutely help you build this character to make them as hot as possible because I know the Chosen is not gonna want to help with that."

The Chosen shook his head. "The goal is to make her character well rounded and easy to play—"

Augustus held up his hand. "I can do both. Don't worry."

"Right, I forgot," the Chosen frowned, "you're the master of—"

"Making the most broken characters you've ever seen, correct," Augustus replied. He leaned over to a binder he had sitting on the unused chair at the table and pulled out a character sheet. "Speaking of which—while I'm helping Brianna—here's mine to peruse."

The Chosen took the sheet and started to look over the stats. At the very least, Augustus had listened to the fact they were playing at level 5 so Brianna didn't have too much to keep track of, but they would still have some power to play with. Unfortunately, that means Augustus found a lot to play with. A human, but the variant type so he could take Sentinel feat at level 1, and a warlock with the subclass of Hexblade. Within his list of spells were two that he connected by a bracket: Darkness and Booming Blade (a cantrip.) The fact that they were connected made the Chosen worried, because it meant Augustus already had a plan.

The one saving grace he could take from the character sheet was that it seemed Augustus didn't cheat for his rolls for stats, as his character's strength and constitution were both under 10. At least that was something the Chosen could hit him at.

"A fighter's going to be the most straightforward thing for you," Augustus told Brianna, paging through the Player's Handbook to the section they needed. The Chosen looked up from Augustus's character sheet to watch them work. Brianna, with the Ghost clutched in both her hands and attention focused, was leaned over to Augustus's side as he set the book and her sheet between them.

"Like Christina Aguilera!" Brianna replied.

"Precisely," he said and handed her the pencil. She readied herself to write in whatever he'd tell her to on the page. "So, your class is Fighter and we're starting at level 5."

Brianna nodded and scribbled away on the page, letters as bubbly as her. Augustus walked her through each of the boxes to fill out, explaining the steps as thoroughly as he could, with Brianna piping in anytime it was not clicking. Surprisingly, it wasn't often. Augustus had, somehow, found the balance between the complexity of D&D and Brianna's semi-present brain.

"So you've got an ability called Action Surge that lets you do one more thing of your choice on your turn during fighting, but you can only do that once until you take either type of Rest," Augustus explained.

"And the Short Rest was the nap and the Long Rest was the whole, like, eight hours sleep?" Brianna asked.

"Exactly," he said. Brianna nodded as she wrote down the details on her sheet. "And we'll probably be taking a lot of Rests since I'm a warlock and that's how I get my magic back."

"So I could use it a lot and it's okay."

"Definitely, so don't forget it. Plus you also get an extra attack since you're fifth level, so you could really attack three times at some point if we ever needed it."

Brianna nodded fervently, writing that down as well.

The Chosen watched them both closely, considering, already, how he might need to alter his planned encounters to account for this planning.

***

Eventually, Brianna finished up building her character—even taking the initiative and filling in parts on her own herself (though most of that was details like appearance and history)—and the three were settled in to begin the game. Brianna had a couple sets of dice from Augustus's horde she was borrowing (he had played a lot of games in person and online over the years, so had grown into a bit of a 'dice dragon' over the years by his own admission. After seeing the amount of dice on his shelves and in the boxes he kept them in, it would also be by the Chosen's admission, too,) and there were a few sets in the center of the table if more were needed. The specific ones she picked were red like her dragonborn's ancestry, but she also picked a lime green set to match her nails.

"So," the Chosen began, "before we start—discuss a bit about who your characters are and we'll figure out how you meet from there."

"We're not friends already?" Brianna asked.

"Not necessarily," the Chosen said.

She frowned. "But, like, can't we be?"

"Potentially. That's why we need to discuss it," he replied.

"Oh."

"My character's not really the type to have friends, anyway," Augustus added, looking over his character sheet. The Chosen eyed him, not that Augustus noticed since it was behind his sunglasses and Augustus was too enraptured in his own handiwork to pay attention. A very non-conducive attitude for an introduction to the game, yet, also one that was not a surprising character choice for Augustus to pick.

"But maybe I totally saved you from a monster or something sometime and we like...bonded after that," Brianna prompted as she sat back in her chair and played with the tab of her Ghost can, "I'm super strong and I've got my cool sword."

Augustus contemplated it, taking a page from the Chosen's book and crossing his arms as he leaned back in his own seat and glanced up at the ceiling. "A possibility. Strength is something Rhorneth lacks in, so I could foresee him getting backed into a situation that perhaps a warrior of equal power in a different field such as yourself would have to save him from."

Brianna stared at him.

"Rhorneth is who I'm playing," he said.

" Oh, okay, got it," she replied with a nod, the recognition finally appearing in her eyes. "Rhor- Rhorn-" she cocked her head, "can I call him Rhory?"

Augustus considered it for a moment, then held up a finger. "Yes, but only your character because they're friends."

She smiled. "Cool."

"So we're going with the backstory that they're already friends at the start of the journey," the Chosen confirmed, scratching down the note in his journal behind his DM screen.

"Yeah, because I saved him from a monster," Brianna replied.

"I'm picturing it in a swamp," Augustus added, "Rhorneth is from the Cinder Vale, and so of course he'd struggle there. The assailant would get an advantage against him, so that's why he'd have needed help in the fight. Otherwise, he'd have been able to handle it no problem on his own."

Excitedly, Brianna tapped Augustus's shoulder. "A swamp like Shrek !" She looked to the Chosen. "We could've fought an ogre!"

The Chosen pursed his lips, then turned back to his journal to write it down. "Sure. That works."

"Frankly, I'd love to see where this version of the movie goes," Augustus joked.

"Can you two please just introduce your characters?" the Chosen asked.

"Gladly," Augustus grinned and picked up his character sheet, Brianna looking to him with a smile and her full attention as the Chosen watched him over his DM screen, still taking notes, "Rhorneth Phrandel, but really known as Rhorneth the Outsider. A human raised by drow—that's the dark elves I told you about, Brianna—in the underground, burning remnants of the Cinder Vale, a place cursed by the sun god, Oxar, after a minority of the drow were found to be worshipping the god of shadows, Derune. It was sent underground until its people repent, but many have instead turned to double down on their following of Derune in spite of what Oxar did, punishing the lot of them for what the few did. One of those worshippers is Rhorneth, who feels it's his duty to free the people who raised and cared for him from Oxar's punishment, both as his way to repay them for what they've done for him and his attempt to finally feel accepted by them as he's always felt like the outsider within the Cinder Vale and outside of it."

Brianna frowned. "Aww..."

Augustus held up a hand. "Don't feel bad—Rhorneth is not one to pity with how he's built himself up. He's a Hexblade Warlock whose patron is, obviously, Derune, and he can hide in the shadows that he attaches to his blades so his enemies never know where he's going to strike until it's too late."

"He's like an assassin," Brianna mused.

"An assassin to the sun, which is his goal," he replied.

"He's trying to kill Oxar? " the Chosen questioned.

Augustus sat up straight, smugness exuding from every fiber of his being. "Maybe."

Brianna set her hand on Augustus's, face so sincere as she said: "I will absolutely help you fight god."

Augustus clutched her hand. "Thank you, Brianna."

"Anything else for your character?" the Chosen asked Augustus.

"Yes!" Augustus let Brianna's hand go and returned his focus to his character sheet. "Because he's a human and wasn't acclimated to the Cinder Vale's constant ash and smoke like the drow are from their generations of living there, he has a weaker immune system he has to be careful of and so always has to wear a mask."

"Accounting for the poor constitution," the Chosen nodded.

"Which did not escape your high perception," Augustus said.

"Obviously," the Chosen scoffed, then turned to Brianna, "so, your character."

"Okay, so," Brianna started, glancing down at her character sheet as she flipped her hair over her shoulder, "I've got a noble background, so I wanna play a queen—"

"That—" the Chosen started. Brianna shot him a stern look, but he held fast this time. "—it might be a bit too high of a position to play of right now, especially depending on the country you're from."

"But I'm a noble," she replied.

"You could be a duchess."

"And that is...?"

"Someone who holds power over a large portion of land known as a duchy."

Brianna blinked at him.

"It's like a miniature kingdom," the Chosen explained. Brianna nodded, eyes narrowing in thought.

"Duchess Dragona," she whispered. Her face lit up after she said it. "Oh my gosh —it's got double D's! Just like Dragona does!"

The Chosen took a deep breath as Augustus laughed.

"Anyway, I'm playing Duchess Dragona who has a duchy but she's taking a break from it to look for a little adventure in her life and, more importantly, find someone to spend that life with," Brianna said.

Augustus gasped. "A dating sim!"

"Exactly!" Brianna replied. "Dragona's looking for her other half—preferably someone who's hot like her and also can hit like her. So someone who can hit and be hit on."

The Chosen hesitated, then gave a slow nod as he wrote down the notes. These were his friends, he could work with this. They knew his limitations and wouldn't put him in a situation that made him uncomfortable. It would be fine. If anything, he could find a way to redirect a scene and have whatever Brianna wanted to happen happen "off screen," as it were. It'd be fine. If anything, it would be a good test of his own resolve against such situations in a controlled setting. Exactly. This was fine.

Augustus set a hand on Brianna's shoulder. "I will gladly help you on your quest for love, Duchess Dragona."

"Thank you, Rhory," Brianna replied with a hand on his, then she giggled, "it's so silly saying your character's name like that."

"You better get used to it because we're gonna be doing it all night," Augustus said.

"I'm so excited!"

"What country did you say your duchy was in?" the Chosen asked as Brianna took a drink.

Brianna waved her hand as she tried to swallow, then answered: "Arbor? Udder? Whatever was that other one was you guys said earlier."

"Urbar?!" Augustus and the Chosen both replied, eyes wide.

"Yeah," Brianna replied, "why?"

"You want us to be friends and you're from Urbar? " Augustus asked.

"What's wrong with that?" Brianna asked.

"Uh, everything? " he replied. "Urbar has the highest number of worshipers of Oxar in Aurhalla and are the ones that turned Derune worshippers in the Cinder Vale over to him in the first place!"

She shrugged. "I don't have to be a part of that."

Augustus scoffed. "An Urbaran noble who's not an Oxar worshipper? Practically unheard of."

"But we could have like, a Romeo and Juliet friendship thing going on!"

"Rhorneth would never! "

"I just wanna be friends with you!"

"Augustus! Hold on!" the Chosen interrupted. Both Augustus and Brianna snapped their attentions to him as the Chosen paged through his old notebook of worldbuilding notes. "Here—Dragona can worship Shelea. She's the goddess of beauty and love. It fits for her character and can still fit for a noble of Urbar."

Augustus shook his head. "She's still from Urbar. That's—"

"Something Rhorneth's going to have to learn to live with," the Chosen interrupted, "after all—she saved his life from the ogre in the swamp, so now he owes her like the people of Cinder Vale."

Augustus was quiet for a moment before turning to look back at his character sheet and scribbling something down under the notes. "Okay, I see what you're doing with that and I can work with it."

"Ha, ha, we're friends," Brianna teased, writing her own notes down while flipping Augustus off with her free hand. In turn, he flipped her off right back.

***

It still took another half hour before the session actually started. They might have had Brianna's character figured out, the connection between hers and Augustus's characters decided, and the briefest of rundowns of the world laid out, but, as is the case with nearly any campaign the Chosen or Augustus had participated in, sessions never start on time. Inevitably, everyone gets caught up in catching up, even if they caught up for an hour the week before—they get caught up catching up for another hour the next time, too.

And so, after the half hour of teasing each other and distractions that were typical for how the three of them hung out at that point, the focus came back to the point of the evening, and the Chosen began to introduce the situation in which Augustus and Brianna found themselves.

"As is tradition for the start of many adventures, you find yourselves together in a tavern called the Silver Bird Inn per the request of letters you each received. Though it is located in Urbar, it's within the forest outside of the capital of Dragona's duchy, Holly Horn, so Rhorneth, you had no issue with traveling there despite your hesitations on the country since you're close with her and have frequented the capital before," the Chosen began. Augustus nodded along. "Likewise, Dragona, you saw no problem heading to somewhere so close to your capital to discover what was needed from the letter writer."

"Plus I've got, like, a ton of people who can do my job for me when I'm not there," Brianna added.

"Right," the Chosen replied, mentally taking note of that as to not bring attention to the fact he was definitely going to try and use that if ever given the chance. "The tavern isn't exceptionally busy this time of day and it seems whoever you're supposed to meet hasn't yet arrived as no one's approached you two at the table they requested you seat yourselves at, so you've got time to kill. It's no doubt been a while since you both have adventured together—what have you been up to since you've last met up?"

Augustus started first, of course, not that the Chosen expected Brianna to have an answer. This was her first time playing a tabletop as far as he was aware; there was going to be a learning curve to her jumping in with roleplay (though when he first described the concept to her, she insisted she had participated in roleplay before.)

"Primarily hunting down information on those that wish to lead more punishments against the Cinder Vale and worshipers of Derune," Augustus replied, adjusting his position in his chair as if to sit like Rhorneth might have, one arm slung over the back and the other propped up by the elbow so he could check his nails. Already in character, of course.

"And killing them?" Brianna asked.

Augustus scoffed. "And have the entire religious body of Oxar's worshippers after me? Perhaps even his scornful eye on my people more than it already is? No, I can't do that yet. That comes later. For now, it's just research to know who the true enemies amongst them are. I have to be methodical and precise once I begin my crusade." He shook his head. "I can't afford to be wrong."

"You are so prepared," she mused.

"I've had many years to ready myself for what I have to do. I can't afford not to be." Augustus shook his head. "But that's just what I've been busy with. Duchess Dragona—how have you fared?"

Brianna's face lit up a touch and she adjusted herself in her seat to sit straighter, excited to be addressed in character like that.

"Oh, uh...you know..." she started, "...um...being rich and a duchess and stuff. Making rules and things, telling people what to do or whatever."

Augustus nodded. "As any ruler does."

"Yeah, exactly, 'cause that's what I am," she glanced down at her character sheet, looking for more information to pull from, "um, I've also been, like...training. I'm a fighter after all—gotta stay in shape, keep this body hot and ready for whenever I find someone who's also hot and ready." She paused. "Also if I have to fight."

"Commendable," he replied, "I've seen many rulers who sit aside and simply expect their knights to take care of all manners of protection for them, but you take your safety into your own hands."

" And I could protect my own people if it came down to it."

"Even more noble, thinking beyond yourself." Augustus pointed to her. " This is why we're friends."

"Yeah." Brianna shrugged, a subtle smile forming from having navigated her first attempt of in character roleplay, "I'm a good ruler."

The Chosen, after a beat, finally stepped back into the conversation, feeling they had a good enough footing for the scene to move it along: "Eventually, after the two of you spend a little bit more time catching up, a figure approaches your table. It's a human man dressed in a cloak, though the hood is down as if he's not trying to hide himself. He comes up with a scroll in hand and looks eager to speak with both of you—"

"Is he hot?" Brianna interrupted.

The Chosen paused, trying to figure out how to respond. He didn't know how to determine that. The way he pictured him in his head didn't really help him decide one way or another, either.

Thankfully, D&D gave the perfect out for this.

The Chosen rolled the 20-sided die behind his screen. An eleven.

"Nothing impressive," he replied, "barely above average in his looks. The dark hair isn't styled, merely just brushed through, and while his clothes are nice, you're a duchess—you've seen much more noteworthy."

Brianna twisted her mouth. "Aw."

"The gentleman comes up to your table and bows his head to the both of you," he continued, "as he lifts his head, he says, 'Greetings, my grace, Duchess Dragona. And you must be Rhorneth the Outsider.'"

"It's nice to meet you!" Brianna replied.

"I don't particularly like to introduce myself to people who don't introduce themselves to me," Augustus said.

"'Please forgive me, my name is Reuben Danchar. I am the one who sent you the missive to meet me here and am requesting your help with something greatly important to my family's legacy,'" the Chosen said.

"What do we care about your family's legacy?" Augustus asked.

"That's mean, Augus— Rhory!" Brianna chastised. She looked back to the Chosen. "What do you need our help with?"

"Reuben sits at the empty chair at your table and sets the scroll in front of him, clutching it tight but doesn't yet open it to show it to you. He continues: 'There's an ancient crypt many in the area near here used to be buried in, including those in my family. Because of my family buried there, we have to pay dues to keep it maintained. However, those who own the land have increased the costs to an unreasonable amount, and since we couldn't afford it, they took an heirloom that's incredibly important to us that I need to get back. But...I'm not able to,'" the Chosen replied.

"They would do that? In my duchy?!" Brianna gasped. "How can they do that?"

"I fear it's just outside of your lands, my grace. Just over the border," he said.

She scoffed. "Of course it is."

Augustus shook his head and grabbed his dice. "I don't trust him. I want to roll Insight."

"That's rude! Clearly he's in distress! We need to believe him," Brianna said.

"Actually, what Augustus is doing is important," the Chosen explained, "if you have a hunch that something might be off or you want to be certain someone's telling you the truth, it's important to investigate its veracity, lest they trick you into something much worse."

"But what if Reuben finds out and gets mad?" she asked.

"Insight isn't something he can find out you're doing. It's more checking to see if someone's lying to you or what emotion they might be trying to cover up. Other ones like Investigation might prove to be more tricky if found out, but can still be covered up by using something like Stealth in combination with it—but we can cross that bridge if we come to it. For now—" the Chosen turned to Augustus, "roll for Insight."

"Gladly," Augustus replied and tossed the purple d20 into the tray set out between him and Brianna. It landed on a four, making Augustus grimace as he checked his character sheet. "Ugh, I only get to add a three, so seven total."

"As far as you can tell, everything seems legit about what he says," the Chosen said.

"You can roll Insight, too, it doesn't have to just be me," Augustus told Brianna.

"I trust him, though! He's one of my citizens, why would he trick me?" she asked. Augustus huffed and rolled his eyes. Brianna frowned and turned back to the Chosen. "Why do you need us two specifically, Reuben?"

"'The part of the crypt they keep the confiscated gold and goods in is within a vault in a labyrinth. The vault can only be opened by a fresh drop of blood from a noble, and the labyrinth is sealed by a sigil of Derune since the whole structure is underground,'" the Chosen explained as Reuben. He shook his head. "'I'm unable to handle either of those feats myself, which is why I reached out to the both of you when I heard about your friendship.'"

"But why should we help you?" Augustus started before he held up a hand to stop Brianna from interjecting. "Besides the fact that you're one of Dragona's people, or that you were wronged by this group?"

"Can't we just do it out of the goodness of our hearts?" Brianna asked.

Augustus eyed her, then replied: "No."

"'I can spare ten gold for each of you. Three up front, and then the rest when the heirloom is returned to me,'" the Chosen said.

Augustus frowned in thought. Brianna looked pleadingly to him.

"He needs our help, Rhory," she begged.

Augustus sighed. "What's the heirloom?"

Brianna clapped, grin wide across her face. Augustus rolled his eyes.

"I haven't agreed to it yet," he grumbled.

"You basically have," she teased.

"'It's an old piece of jewelry, a collar plate necklace forged of solid gold by my great-great-grandfather,'" the Chosen said.

"Ooh, sounds pretty—I'd wear it," Brianna said.

"Is there anything else important we'd need to know about the crypt? Traps, dangers, puzzles...?" Augustus asked.

The Chosen nodded, though frowned. "'Yes, unfortunately. The labyrinth is protected by a minotaur.'"

Augustus scoffed. "Of course it is. This is Urbar ..."

"Hey!" Brianna warned, then hesitated. "I don't get that, but it sounds like you're being racist, so stop it."

"Out of character: technically the proper term for this is prejudiced—or really specifically xenophobic because I'm being biased towards your country and not one race in specific—but the whole reason I'm doing it is because of how minotaurs have been enslaved in your country," Augustus shrugged, "so I'm kinda justified."

Brianna blinked before looking to the Chosen. "What?!"

The Chosen considered for a split second outright telling her the whole truth of the matter, but then decided a different route that would maybe help show her a bit more of the game.

"Roll History," the Chosen said, crossing his arms.

"What?" she asked.

"It's one of the skills you have. You'll roll the 20 sided die and add your modifier and we'll see how much Dragona knows about the history of minotaurs in Urbar," he explained.

"You're not just gonna tell me?"

"I think it would be best to see how much she knows. It will tell us more about how well she knows her country and the issues of its people."

Brianna huffed, but he saw in her face how she considered the idea and could see the logic in it as she reached for the die and nodded.

"That's a d12," Augustus said as she picked up the first die.

She picked up another one, fingers slowly taking it from the table top as she watched Augustus for approval. He nodded and she plucked it up into her hand with more confidence, shaking it around before tossing it into the tray. Brianna leaned across the table to peer at the number, then back down at her sheet, brow furrowing deeply as she tried to find the skill on her sheet and then add the numbers together.

The difficulty check wasn't going to be that high since this was her own country—maybe a 10 or a little lower—but if she still rolled low, the Chosen was probably still going to give it to her and just adjust the DC to even lower so she learned something. They were early on and this wasn't the time to get discouraged, plus this wasn't a hugely important roll. And it's not like they knew what he was arbitrarily picking for the DC, so he could change it if need be (he could just use the phrase "You just barely passed" to make it feel like an achievement, that always seemed to work.)

"19," she said.

"Wait, you got a 19 for real?" he asked, peering over his DM screen to the die in the tray.

"Yeah. I rolled a 17 and I get to add two, so that's 19, right?"

"Uh, yeah—"

"Is a 19 good?"

"It's really good, usually, yeah."

"Okay, cool," Brianna replied, "so what do I learn?"

The Chosen looked at her watching him eagerly awaiting the information, noticing Augustus grinning proudly besides her. She was in the game now.

"Minotaurs have always been seen as irredeemable creatures of malice in Urbar, ones created through corruption by Derune to spite Oxar whose symbol is the bull. Throughout history, many have been forced into hard labor and used to guard places that normal people can't, the idea being that they deserved the harsh force it did to their bodies and minds because of what they symbolized. Because you got a 19, what you also know, though, is that many get left in those places without others of their kind or any others to speak to for months to years to even their entire lives. Because of that solitude, it turns them violent and dangerous, hateful towards the ones that trap them, creating a vicious cycle where they grow aggressive towards anything that crosses their path which, in turn, persists the narrative that they're vicious creatures," the Chosen explained.

"Oh...my... gosh ," Brianna gasped, "I'm gonna break that minotaur out and free him!"

"Do you say that out loud, in character?" The Chosen asked. "As Dragona, I mean."

She paused, considering it. "No. I...just think that to myself."

"A wise decision. You know that most people in Urbar still think of minotaurs as evil because of their worship of Oxar, so you being a sympathizer would not look good, and wanting to free one would be blasphemous—possibly even a crime because of the damage it could cause," he replied. Though still conflicted, Brianna nodded. The Chosen returned his attention to her and Augustus both. "Reuben looks between you two at the table and asks: 'So will you help me?'"

Augustus eyed Brianna. "I'll only do it if you'll do it."

"I think we should do it," Brianna said.

Augustus nodded. "Alright." He turned back to the Chosen. "Then we're in."

"'Excellent,'" The Chosen said, "Reuben lays out the scroll he had been clutching this whole time, revealing that its a map. He explains where on it the crypt is and what path you'll have to take to get there. He gives you the map afterwards, as well as the three gold each he promised. Is there anything else you want to ask him before you head out on the quest?"

Both Brianna and Augustus shook their heads.

"Alright, then you both head out of the Silver Bird Inn and on your way," the Chosen said.

"I'm so excited!" Brianna cheered as she clapped her hands.

"I still don't trust him," Augustus said.

"He's fine ," she insisted, "you rolled and everything and saw that."

"No—I didn't get a good roll so I don't know if he was lying."

"So why didn't you just roll again?"

"Because it preserves the sanctity of the game. You don't just roll and roll and roll to get a good outcome; that defeats the purpose of rolling at all if that's how it was played."

"I guess that makes sense."

"Anyway," the Chosen continued, "you two head out through the forests of Holly Horn until you reach the duchy's border, crossing over into the coastal duchy of Honey Sea, thus reaching the crypt in question.

"The crypt is built within a cliffside, the decorative blocks carved into the cliff around the entrance geometric in design and intricate. There is some moss that has grown over the limestone, but it's clear that much has been cleaned off and many of the vines that try to grow over the cliff have also been cleared away—this place is very much actively taken care of," the Chosen described, "how do you two approach?"

"Is there anyone else present at the crypt?" Augustus asked.

"No, you two are the only ones here as of right now," he replied.

"Is there a door to the crypt or is it just open?" Augustus asked.

"There's a stone door that's currently shut."

Augustus checked over the spells on his character sheet and twisted his mouth in thought, tapping a finger on the table.

"What are you thinking?" Brianna asked, stacking her dice up on top of each other in a short little tower.

"I wanted to check if there was some kind of magic on the door that would alert someone that we entered it," he explained, "but unfortunately , I don't have Eldritch Sight because of the invocations I took, so I can't detect if there's any magic." He looked up to the Chosen. "Is there any chance I can use Arcana to check?"

The Chosen considered it, then nodded. "I'll allow that."

"Thank you ," Augustus said and rolled a d20, face lighting up as he saw the result. "That's a dirty 20, baby!"

"What's so dirty about it?" Brianna asked, grinning.

"It means the number I add to the base roll brings the total to a 20 even though I didn't roll a natural 20 on the dice itself."

"Ohh—so it's like cheating but allowed."

"No—it's just a fun way to describe it. I had a 14 and got to add six, so a 'dirty' 20."

She was quiet. "Oh." She paused for another moment before asking: "And why is 20 special?"

"It's the highest number you can roll on a d20."

She nodded. "Ohh, okay."

Augustus turned back to the Chosen. "So what do I notice about the door?"

"There's nothing indicating that the door is magic or has anything imbuing magic upon it, especially since this is a semi communal space so they expect people to enter it," the Chosen began, then considered it further. He didn't want to waste Augustus's roll, especially not after he got a 20. "You do notice, however, runes within the stones at the base of the door. It appears that this is to monitor whenever someone enters the crypt as you suspected, as you recognize the runes as a spell that will react when pressure is placed upon someone standing on those stones."

"Is there a way for us to open the door without standing on those stones?" Augustus asked.

The Chosen contemplated the idea. Either option could be interesting with how Augustus was playing Rhorneth's paranoia about the situation, yet he wasn't sure how to decide. So, instead of picking himself, he rolled one of his six sided dice behind the screen—odds said yes, they could avoid it, and evens meant they couldn't. He rolled a three.

"It looks like you can, but you'll both have to make Dexterity rolls to make sure you avoid them completely when you enter," the Chosen said. Augustus nodded.

"Why are you so worried about this place?" Brianna asked. "We were literally sent here to do a job. We're supposed to be here."

"We're literally going in here to steal something. We're not supposed to be here," Augustus replied, "even if we weren't, neither of our families are buried in this crypt. I don't think it's wise for people to know we've gone in."

"Okay...that..." Brianna started, "...is fair."

Augustus returned his attention to the Chosen. "I'd like to use Mage Hand to open the door so that way we don't have to risk touching the stones."

"Is that one of your spells?" Brianna asked.

"In a way, yes, but it's a specific one called a Cantrip so it means I can use it as many times as I want without needing to Rest," Augustus said.

"So you've got special spells that don't use your spell stuff?"

"Mm-hm."

"And that's not cheating?"

"Nope."

"Oh my gosh —we're gonna kick butt in this dungeon," she mused.

"Oh, just wait until you see what all I can do with the spells that use my spell slots. I have plans ," Augustus said.

"Anyway," the Chosen said, regaining their attentions, "you summon your Mage Hand and push open the door to the crypt. It isn't too difficult as it is as well taken care of as the rest of the crypt and they're not trying to keep the regular visitors out, but there is some heft to is as it is made of stone like everything else is around it. With it open, both you and Dragona are able to enter, although, like I said before, you'll need to make Dexterity-Stealth or Acrobatics rolls to avoid stepping on the stone you noticed the runes on."

Both Augustus and Brianna grabbed a d20 each and rolled, checking over their character sheets to add their numbers.

"So...which one are we adding?" Brianna asked.

"Either Stealth or Acrobatics, it depends on how you think your character would approach the challenge," the Chosen replied.

"Does the little filled in dot next to a skill mean I get to roll again if I do bad?" she asked.

"No, it just means it's a skill you're proficient in, so it means you get a bonus to it that we already added in to the amount you get to add to the total."

"Oh." She frowned, then sighed. "Okay...then if I used Stealth I only get a five and if I use Acrobatics I get an eight."

"I mean, the stone can't be that big, so the eight might work," Augustus told her.

"What did you get?" she asked.

"A 19 using Stealth," he admitted.

"I'm gonna screw this up already and we just started," she whined.

"I could Dispel Magic and get rid of the runes entirely."

"To be fair," the Chosen interrupted, "I haven't said whether or not she failed the roll or not."

They looked to him, Brianna hopeful as she asked: "Did I?"

The Chosen watched her. He had set the DC in his mind to 12 before they rolled.

"Are you using Acrobatics or Stealth?" he asked.

"Acrobatics, duh. It's the higher one," she said.

He nodded, then described: "As you both cross over the threshold, Dragona, you find yourself to have misjudged the stone's size as you leapt over. Your feet touch down on the other side, landing on your tip toes just on the edge beyond the entrance stone you were trying to avoid and you teeter over it, rocking on the balls of your feet as you struggle to keep your balance until—" he paused, letting Brianna and Augustus linger on the silence for a moment in suspense on whether or not he'd let her pass the check, "—they drop back down onto the stone and the runes light up from the touch."

"Oh, screw off," Augustus scowled.

"That was so mean!" Brianna said. The Chosen just shrugged and smiled.

Augustus shook his head and turned to Brianna. "Do you think it's worth it to use Dispel Magic and get rid of the runes before they alert whoever might be monitoring them, or do you think we should risk it? Because I can do that, but it would use up one of my Spell Slots and those are what I have limited of until we take a Short Rest, and I don't want us to have to take too many Rests in the crypt lest someone find us in here and I don't think we'll be able to take a Rest while we're in the labyrinth or else the minotaur will kill us."

Brianna considered it. "I mean...if somebody does find us in here, we could just lie and say we've got family in here, right? Like...maybe we could say we're related to Reuben's family or something?"

"Not a bad idea. And our other option is just trying to hide somewhere within the crypt itself as well—I have methods that can help us with that," Augustus nodded, "alright. We'll just let the runes go for now and deal with whatever consequences come of it if any do."

"I'm sorry I screwed it up."

Augustus waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. Let's just keep an eye out for anyone who might come investigating us entering—if anyone even does. We don't know if it even is a problem; I'm just being cautious."

Brianna nodded and the two turned their focus back to the Chosen.

"So what's the crypt like inside?" Augustus asked.

"The halls are very elaborate in design—again, this is clearly a crypt for well off families and their lines. The main hall you find yourself in has a tall ceiling and stretches out far, with several auxiliary halls extending off the sides. The walls are carved with intricate details, depicting mainly myths and events in history that have grown to almost mythological status themselves. Most of these historical events are related to wars you assume the deceased participated in, and the myths are related to mortals dealing with Ilsae, the goddess that determines which afterlife your soul goes to when you die, or Yolv, the god of death," the Chosen described.

"Are they married?" Brianna asked.

"Ilsae and Yolv?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Cute! Power couple," she replied.

"They're actually quite intimidating—Yolv is essentially the grim reaper, and Ilsae is in an Osiris-type role. Many in this world are terrified of ever having to encounter them to the point there's countless stories about people trying to achieve immortality just to avoid meeting them."

"Yeah, but like, they work together, so it's cute. Goals, honestly."

The Chosen took a deep breath. "Anyway. You're in the crypt."

"I think it would behoove us to get to the labyrinth as soon as possible, especially if we've alerted anyone to the fact we've arrived," Augustus said.

"'Behooved,'" Brianna laughed, "like the minotaur."

"Exactly," Augustus replied, "who we'll have to be on the look out for once we get there."

"But..." she started, dropping her smile and digging her nail into her pencil, "what if he's not mean?"

"We don't know that—"

"I wanna get him out of there! It's not fair that he's stuck in there when he doesn't wanna be. It's not cool and it's not okay."

Augustus frowned. "We'll just have to see when we get in there. There's unfortunately a chance that he's been in there so long he'll be too far gone and want nothing more than to kill us."

"That's not a reason to still keep him in there."

Augustus watched her, then set a hand on her shoulder. "You know, Dragona, this is why we're friends."

She cocked her head. "What'd I do?"

He shook his head. "You didn't have to do anything." He turned his attention back to the Chosen. "We'll proceed deeper through the crypt until we find what's clearly the entrance to the labyrinth."

"Alright, roll Investigation to find it for me. The crypt is lit by magic lanterns from the ceilings that stay forever lit, so you don't need to worry about lighting your own torches or anything as you explore for now, as a side note," the Chosen said. Brianna and Augustus nodded as they rolled. He set the DC in his head as a 15, being how extensive and old the crypt was supposed to be and how the labyrinth's entrance wasn't supposed to be easy to find within it.

Brianna frowned at her sheet. "Your skills can subtract from your rolls?"

"Unfortunately, yes," the Chosen replied, "if you're base stat isn't good and you're not trained in a skill, it can make the roll worse. What did you get?"

"11 minus one, so 10," she whined.

"Mm."

"I got a 22," Augustus said.

"A 22?!" Brianna questioned. "You can get over 20?"

"16 plus six," he replied.

She slunk in her chair. "I feel useless."

"Dragona's skills are in different areas, Brianna, we just haven't gotten to where she can use them yet. Rhorneth is just built for these kinds of things which is why he's excelling at them right now, because trust me," Augustus said, a slight laugh entering his voice, "when we get into a fight and I'm out of magic, I'm gonna need your help big time."

"You promise?"

"Absolutely."

She sighed. "Okay..."

"So with your 10, Dragona, you don't have any luck finding any sign of the labyrinth's entrance," the Chosen began, "instead you end up tagging along behind Rhorneth so you don't get separated. Rhorneth, though, you manage to find where they've sequestered the hidden entrance within one of the walls. It's in one of the depressions within an archway, seemingly as part of the wall itself, but it stands out to you because it has less stand out features chiseled into it like the rest of the crypt does, as if done to specifically not draw your eye to it. It's a subtle choice, yet one you notice and recognize the reasoning for it. And as you look closer to these designs, you notice within them a pattern that resembles a sigil of Derune."

"Ah, yes, the one Reuben said I needed to break." Augustus nodded, then paused, brow furrowing. "Can I...can I roll Intelligence to see if there were any engravings that showed any loyalty to Derune anywhere in this crypt at all?"

"Sure," the Chosen said, not sure why he was feeling the need for the roll at all. Augustus did so, then clapped his hands and grinned.

"Nat 20!" he cheered.

"Nice!" Brianna joined in.

"I hate to tell you this since you got such a good roll, but there weren't any," the Chosen replied.

"Nothing positive towards him whatsoever?" Augustus asked.

"No," the Chosen said.

Augustus turned to Brianna. "So why is there a sigil of Derune here? Because no self respecting follower of Oxar—of which there are countless in this area of the Urbar and no doubt are the ones coming to this crypt—would make a pact with Derune to use his magic or lower themselves to learn it just to get through this sigil to get to the vault."

Brianna nodded slowly. "Yeah...yeah, that's weird."

The Chosen looked between them.

Yeah, it was weird. And he didn't think about it either. He had just changed that part of the quest to fit their characters after they made them to make it feel more intertwined and personalized, and now it didn't make any sense for the worldbuilding. 

He tried to hide how he clenched his jaw in panic. A classic mistake .

Quickly and as subtly as he could, he took note of it in his notebook and his mind whirred through the reasons there was this sigil in the crypt. He didn't have to have an answer right away, but he'd have to have one later to make it feel satisfying for them. And they didn't need to know he didn't know right now, either. Just play it off.

"It's certainly strange," the Chosen said, then, to catch them off guard, rolled one of his dice behind his screen. He paused, then kept scribbling down some quick ideas. Brianna and Augustus glanced between each other.

"What was that for?" Brianna asked.

"Hm?" The Chosen glanced up to her, then shook his head and looked back down. "Oh, nothing. Don't worry about it."

Panic crossed her face and her head snapped to Augustus. "Get us in the labyrinth—I don't trust that!"

"On it!" Augustus said and snatched up his d20. "I assume I'm using Arcana to figure out what I need to do for the sigil?"

"Correct," the Chosen replied. The DC would be quite high for this one (a DC of 17), but Rhorneth could handle that.

Augustus nodded and rolled. He grimaced at the number. "A 10 total? Seriously?"

"You rolled before I could finish," the Chosen lied after hearing the roll, "but I was going to say you had advantage because of your familiarity with Derune."

"Good," Augustus breathed, rolling again. "Alright, much better—18."

"Definitely better," he agreed, "Rhorneth, you study the sigil and determine that what's required from you to open the passage is, obviously, a Darkness spell."

"Does it have to be cast on the sigil?" Augustus asked.

"Yes."

Augustus groaned and tapped his pencil's eraser against his sheet.

"You can do that, right?" Brianna asked.

"Yeah, I just...that's going to expel one of my Spell Slots and I had a plan that involves using Darkness on my dagger if we ever get into combat," he replied, "it's kind of my only real plan for combat."

"Well, you've got two Spell Slots, right? Can you use it again?" she asked.

"I could, but we might need something else while we're in the labyrinth," he replied.

"I mean," she started, "you said I'd be good at combat, so I think it'll be okay, because I'll look out for you and you won't have to worry about not having it if you can't do it."

Augustus continued to stare at his sheet for a moment, and the Chosen felt a slight pang of guilt in his chest at the disappointment on Augustus's face. Clearly, this whole plan with the Darkness spell and his daggers was what he was most excited for with his character, and it felt like the Chosen just took that away from him. Again, as covertly as he could, he made a note to himself to use some of his backup enemy sheets he always had on standby to give them another combat opportunity on the way out of the crypt or when they got back to Holly Horn to let Augustus have the chance. Maybe it could tie back into them triggering the runes at the front of the crypt.

Augustus took a deep breath. "Alright, fine. I cast Darkness on the sigil."

"The wall is engulfed in an impenetrable blackness, one you're deeply familiar with, Rhorneth, perhaps even find comfortable. Being so attuned to the sensation of it, you can feel the shifting of the stones under the veil of darkness before the sound even begins to reach either of your ears, as if Derune is reaching out to invite you to step through into it. Even after the passage is opened, the darkness lingers, and you realize, Rhorneth, it is no longer one under your control," the Chosen described.

"So I don't have concentration over it?" Augustus asked.

The Chosen shook his head. "It appears Derune took it for you—though it did still expend the Spell Slot."

"It's fine, it's just..." Augustus took on his usual satisfied smile, "...neat to be recognized by your own god."

Brianna clapped her hands. "Let's go in!"

"Be careful, though. Remember—it's the labyrinth on the other side," Augustus reminded her.

"Right," she said.

"The both of you enter the darkness, and it seems that, on the other side is nothing but more darkness..." the Chosen began.

Chapter Text

"The both of you enter the darkness, and it seems that, on the other side is nothing but more darkness—" the Chosen began.

"I have Devil's Sight!" Augustus interrupted, hand shooting up. "I can see up to 120 feet in dim light and darkness, both magical and non-magical! So I'm unaffected by the Darkness spell and this labyrinth!"

The Chosen stared at him for a moment, then pointed to Brianna. "She doesn't."

Augustus paused, then his hand dropped back down. "Frick."

Brianna gasped as she looked down at her character sheet. "Can I light a torch?"

"You can," the Chosen said.

"It could bring attention to us—" Augustus started

"Can I use my fire breath to light it?!" Brianna asked, wide smile on her face.

"That's definitely going to bring attention to us!" Augustus said.

Brianna ignored him. "I light it with my fire breath!"

The Chosen nodded. "If you want to."

"Yes!" Brianna clapped. Augustus rolled his eyes besides her. "Now I can see."

"You light up your torch, illuminating halls that are far different than the ones you just came from. They don't carry any of the carvings the previous ones were enlaid with and look to be made of some sort of black stone. The light of your torch almost feels to be doing nothing against it with how dark these halls are, but you are still able to see enough to head through the labyrinth," the Chosen said, then glanced down to his dice and, as quiet as he could, rolled his d6. This time wasn't to throw them off, but first to determine how close the minotaur was. He had a small map sectioned off into six areas for the labyrinth. The entrance was in section five and his d6 rolled a six—the minotaur was near. Again, quietly, he rolled a d20 and checked the minotaur's stat block to see whether or not the minotaur heard or perhaps even saw what Dragona had done.

A nine plus the minotaur's perception of seven—a total of 16.

"Dragona," the Chosen started, "how stealthy do you think your lighting of the torch was? Or do you think you tried to be stealthy with it at all?"

Brianna shrugged. "I mean, I just kind of went for it. We just got into the labyrinth, so I'm sure it's fine."

He watched Augustus shut his eyes and take a deep breath before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"He wouldn't be asking if it was fine..." Augustus mumbled.

"So you didn't try to be stealthy about it at all?" the Chosen tried again.

Brianna paused, looking between the Chosen and Augustus both before replying carefully. "I...didn't...probably need to use a lot of flame...so it probably wasn't... too obvious?"

The Chosen nodded slowly. "Okay, then can you roll me Stealth at disadvantage?"

"And that's...?"

"Roll the d20 twice and take the lower result."

Brianna frowned but did as she was asked. The first base roll wasn't bad (a 15) and honestly neither was the second (a 13.) She looked back up to him hesitantly.

"14 total?" she said.

The Chosen considered the situation before him quickly. The two had only just entered the labyrinth. This was their first test at whether they could work together as a team. It wouldn't be good to thrust them directly into an argument when Brianna was already feeling bad about failing her rolls and Augustus was getting frustrated with her compromising the situation and he was frustrated with his spell limitations. What they needed right now is a close call, then a hook later to solidify their bond as partners when it really mattered.

"You just barely passed," the Chosen lied, making both Brianna and Augustus breathe sighs of relief, "can you both roll me Perception checks?"

They rolled again without hesitation.

"Dirty 20!" Augustus said.

"21!" Brianna cheered.

"You both hear shuffling down the hall to your right, heavy footsteps that are sharp against the stone, dragging something that pierces into your ears through the silence as it bounces along the walls towards you. The sound is very slowly drawing closer and it's clear that whatever this is—no doubt the minotaur—has not noticed you, but is coming this way through the twists and turns of the labyrinth," the Chosen described.

"Is there a hall to our left?" Augustus asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"Okay, we're going that way," Augustus told Brianna, then turned to the Chosen, "if playing Tomb Raider 2 at your house after school in 7th grade taught me anything—always turn left in a maze and you'll get to the center."

The Chosen gave him a firm nod, secretly glancing down to his map as he did behind his sunglasses and wondering if the map layout was actually a subconscious recreation of the hedge maze at Lara's manor and he didn't realize it.

"You two begin to head through the labyrinth. Are you trying to navigate it together to determine the paths to take or is one of you taking the lead?" the Chosen asked.

"I think Rhory should lead," Brianna said.

"What do I need to roll for it?" Augustus asked.

"Let's do Investigation," the Chosen said.

"Okay, yeah," Brianna laughed, "Rhory should definitely lead."

Augustus rolled, then grimaced. "Well..."

"What?" Brianna asked.

"What if we both try?" he started. "For fun?"

Brianna eyed him with a smile. "What'd you get?"

"An 11 total," he admitted.

"Oh my gosh," she said.

" Please just try rolling."

"But I'm bad at Investigation!"

"You could get a really good roll!"

Brianna grabbed her d20, shook it, then tossed it into the tray. Once she saw the result, she recoiled back from it with her own grimace.

"A four ..." she whined.

"Oh no..." Augustus said.

The Chosen stared at their d20s sitting in the trays (both base rolls of fives, funnily enough) for a moment. "Okay. So."

"How lost are we?" Augustus asked.

"I'm already so lost in real life, does it just follow me in the fake life, too?" Brianna asked.

"So the good news is," the Chosen started, "you're still in the labyrinth."

"Shut up ," Augustus replied with a sneer. The Chosen just laughed and rolled a d6 to determine where they were (section three.)

"No, but seriously,  you're still in the labyrinth. The issue is that now you're not certain where the entrance was or how close the minotaur is without doing another Perception check," the Chosen replied. 

"Then we Perception check!" Brianna said, already reaching for her dice. Augustus, not prepared for her initiative, reached for his right after. The two rolled and checked their sheets.

Brianna threw a fist in the air and screamed: "Nat 20!"

"Nice!" Augustus said, high fiving her. The Chosen, likewise, high fived her.

"And that's a...23 total!" Brianna pointed to Augustus. "Now what'd you get?"

Augustus waved a hand. "Not important. You rolled good enough."

"No, c'mon—what'd you get? It's a group effort!"

"Ah, y'know..." he stammered and scratched his eyebrow, "...eight."

"Yeah, that special sight doesn't do squat after all, does it?" Brianna said, making Augustus and the Chosen burst out laughing. She simply smiled before turning to the Chosen. "So what do I see?"

"You don't see the minotaur yet," the Chosen said, laughter fading out the longer he spoke. He rolled and found the minotaur was in section 2—right next to them, "but you do hear him again in the halls close to you both. It's a similar situation to the one you were in before where it sounds like he's approaching." 

"Does it sound like he's noticed us? Like is it quicker than the last time?" Brianna asked.

He rolled another d20 for the minotaur's perception. Only a 9 total.

"No," he replied.

Brianna contemplated her sheet, then looked again to the Chosen. "I want to go to the minotaur."

"What?!" Augustus questioned.

"You want to approach him?" the Chosen asked.

"Yeah," she said, with more conviction, "he hasn't noticed us, and he just kind of seems to be travelling around the labyrinth mindlessly and I just...I think we can talk to him."

" Or he'll kill us!" Augustus said.

"You're the one that said Urbar is cruel for how we treat them, and now you're the one that's being prejudiced against him!" Brianna told him. Augustus held up a finger, mouth agape as he tried to figure out an argument against it.

"That-!" he started, then shut his mouth and put his hand down. "I'm gonna give you that one."

"And if he does attack, I'll protect you. I promise," she said.

"Deal."

"Okay," the Chosen started, "I won't have you roll to try and find your way through the hall towards him because you got a nat 20 for your Perception roll, Dragona, so you're able to use the sound of him to find him, but I'll still ask—how do you approach the minotaur?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I don't...want to look threatening, so I hold my torch low so it's not scary. Obviously the labyrinth is dark, so that might be kind of alarming because, you know, 'Ah! Bright light!' like he's a bug or bat or something, so I'll try and hold it a little back and down so it also doesn't look like I'm gonna hit him with it either. And I also want to just kind of adjust my body language to be kind of...open and approachable? Like, relaxed and unthreatening. Just kind of...make myself seem smaller than I am without shrinking?" She frowned, struggling to put her thoughts into words. "I mean, like, I'm a noble but also a fighter, right? So I assume this is something I've been used to doing in courts and things and with other nobles so I don't scare them off, right? Or maybe something I've done with animals like horses and things I have to ride and train with?"

The Chosen nodded. "I can definitely see that. I'm not going to let you use Animal Handling on him since he's a sentient being, but I get what you mean."

"Oh, yeah, I wasn't planning to," Brianna said, then glanced over her sheet, "what am I gonna use?"

"Persuasion, probably. We'll see when you start talking to him what's going to fit best," he replied.

"Okay, cool," she said.

"You've got this, Dragona," Augustus said, holding up a fist to her.

"Thanks, Rhory," she replied, returning his fist bump with a smile. She returned her attention to the Chosen. "We approach the minotaur, slowly."

"You begin down the labyrinth's paths towards the sound of the minotaur," the Chosen said, "as you draw closer, the sound of his axe upon the stone grows, cutting into your ears like it would your body if this goes poorly. Eventually, you turn a corner and find the hulking mass of muscle and horns looming in the hall—nearly taking up all the space between one wall and another. The light of your torch makes it balk backwards and—" he rolled his d20, trying to determine whether the minotaur was scared enough by the sudden light to attack. A nine, and using Intelligence as the modifier since the minotaur was trying to determine what the light was, that meant the total was a seven. Briefly he considered whether to turn this to combat, then decided against it since Brianna had tried so hard to appear nonthreatening on the approach. "—he rears back, clutching his axe close and ready to attack if he needs to. He lets out a bellow and snort as his hoof scrapes against the stone underneath, eyes squinting against the light but clearly filled with rage at your presence."

"Okay! Okay! What do I need to do to calm him down?" Brianna asked.

"Try to talk to him like we said—use Persuasion, it's how we built Dragona!" Augustus replied.

"Okay—yeah!" She took a deep breath and recentered herself, turning to the Chosen. "Hi, we're not here to hurt you, I promise—I wanna help you get out of here."

"Sure," the Chosen started, "what language are you speaking?"

"English," she replied.

"In game," the Chosen said, "are you speaking Common—the language nearly everyone speaks—or another one?"

"Um..." she checked her sheet, "...yeah, probably Common. I don't think he speaks Dra...Dra-iconic."

"Draconic," Augustus corrected.

"Yeah," she said.

"Okay," the Chosen nodded, crossing his arms, "you say that to the minotaur, but he doesn't seem to react, instead giving a stomp and thrusting his head and horns towards you both, gripping the axe tighter as he snorts again."

"What-?! I-!"

"He doesn't speak Common..." Augustus groaned, falling back in his seat.

Brianna snapped her fingers. "I got that really good roll earlier for minotaur history! Did that tell me what languages they speak?"

"I'll let you roll History with advantage since you had that good roll and you're looking for that one specific piece of information in it," the Chosen replied. Behind his screen, he rolled a d20 to decide the DC for him. It was a 14.

Brianna nodded and rolled, cringing against both rolls. "The best was a 12."

"You unfortunately don't recall any languages minotaurs can speak—it's not something people take stock of in Urbar," the Chosen replied.

"Can I roll?" Augustus asked.

"Sure, but you won't have advantage," he replied.

"I think I'll be fine," Augustus replied and rolled, his self satisfied smug smirk crossing his face again as he looked back up to the Chosen, "nat 20."

"Yay!" Brianna cheered and clapped.

"All minotaurs speak Abyssal, which is part of why so many think they're evil creatures since it's the language of devils and demons," the Chosen said.

Augustus scoffed. "Fitting that I speak it, too."

"You do?" Brianna asked.

"I do," he replied to her, then asked to the Chosen: "can I relay everything she's saying to the minotaur in Abyssal for her?"

"Sure. And we'll say you translate everything unless she specifies she doesn't want you to otherwise," the Chosen said.

"Sounds good," Augustus said.

"Am I still rolling Persuasion?" Brianna asked.

"Yeah," the Chosen replied.

Brianna nodded and rolled. "22."

The Chosen rolled behind his screen. An 11 plus three for the minotaur's Insight, so a 14 total.

"The minotaur seems wary of you two, but it's more a general apprehension and confusion of the situation rather than fear or anger. He's still clutching tight to the axe, but he's not raring to fight as much as before, instead seems to be waiting to hear you out," the Chosen described.

"Okay, um..." Brianna started, "I tell him that we're here to visit the vault to retrieve something that was unrightfully taken from a friend of ours, and then we're gonna leave, but that we want him to leave with us too because he shouldn't be in here in the dark alone and trapped because it's not right or fair. No one should have to be stuck somewhere they don't want to be forever."

"Roll Persuasion again," the Chosen said. Brianna rolled. Another grimace crossed her face.

"A nine," she whined.

The Chosen rolled his d20. A 10 total.

"It seems like you almost convince him, then he shakes his head like he's snapped back to reality—"

"There goes gravity," Augustus interrupted with a slight grin.

"Shut up—" the Chosen warned, though was holding back his own smirk. Brianna, though, was too invested to have even noticed the aside and was still eagerly watching the Chosen. He continued. "—and it's as if he recalls his duty here in the labyrinth to guard it from intruders trying to get to the vault, and he regains his aggressive stance, now slowly edging his way towards you."

"No!" Brianna cried, hands on either side of her head.

"Can I try to Persuade him?" Augustus asked.

"Sure," the Chosen replied. Augustus rolled, then groaned and setting his head on the table in the crook of his elbow.

"Never- mind ," he groaned, voice muffled by his arm, "I got a six."

"No, come on, what did you say to him?" the Chosen asked.

Augustus sighed. "I probably tried to reason with him about how the people who trapped him in the vault suck and I can relate being from the Cinder Vale and feeling trapped there, but instead probably sounded like an idiot in Abyssal."

The Chosen, after rolling his d20 to make sure Augustus did fail his roll (he did, the minotaur got a 21 total), nodded. "Yeah, yeah—Abyssal isn't your first language and so every once in a while you mess up your grammar and vocabulary so you just kind of flub your words and end up sounding...real dumb and can tell you're trying way too hard to talk your way out of a situation you're too scared to deal with as yourself."

"What if—" Brianna stammered, "what if I distract him?"

"With what?" the Chosen asked.

"Um...uh..." her face crumpled as she struggled through her thoughts until she threw her arms out, "I don't know! I- I flash him?"

Augustus's head snapped up and he coughed out a half laugh out of shock. The Chosen just cocked his head at her.

"Like...with your torch?" the Chosen asked.

"No! My tits!" Brianna replied.

"I-" it was his turn to stammer, "-oh."

"It works on so many guys! And he's been alone down here so it's probably going to super work, and you don't have to translate anything for that!"

The Chosen stared down at the minotaur's stat sheet. "I...uh...I guess. Um..." he cleared his throat, "...I mean it will require you to be armorless for that point so if it goes wrong you can't count in your armor if he attacks you."

"Yeah, sure, whatever, but like—I'm not letting Rhory get hurt!" she said.

The Chosen crossed his arms tight over his chest. "Uh—okay, fine. Roll...Performance?"

"I was gonna say either Performance or Deception," Augustus said.

"Her boobs are real!" Brianna defended.

"I meant because you're distracting him!" Augustus said.

"Actually, yeah, Deception would be better for distraction," the Chosen agreed.

"Whatever! I'm rolling!" she said and grabbed her dice. "18 total!"

The Chosen rolled his d20. A seven total.

He scratched the back of his head. "You...uh...successfully distract the minotaur."

Brianna threw her hands up in the air and cheered with a laugh.

"I can't believe that worked," Augustus mused.

"I imagine, like," Brianna started, "Dragona lifted up her shirt or armor or whatever and then the minotaur just like, stopped in place and dropped his axe and is just standing there mouth open, shocked, because he's never seen a rack like Dragona's—or at all probably because he's only ever been down here."

Augustus cackled besides her, making Brianna laugh again with him. The Chosen just pursed his lips and took a deep breath that he tried to make sure they didn't notice (they didn't, of course. He had the training to hide that kind of thing.)

"So you've successfully distracted the minotaur," the Chosen said, trying to get off this topic and back to the right one, "what do you want to do now?"

"Can I see if the entrance to the vault is near here?" Augustus asked.

"Sure," the Chosen said, "roll Perception."

Augustus rolled and checked his sheet. "A 12 total."

While the Chosen didn't plan for this to be the section they would find the entrance in, he...kind of didn't want to deal with the minotaur situation anymore with the way it escalated. Instead, he decided to just give it to them.

The Chosen nodded. "You barely notice a glint off of Dragona's torch flicker that's in a divet in the wall behind the minotaur and you realize that must be the entrance to the vault you've been looking for. It seems in your lost wandering, you both had been too concerned with moving forward to look at your surroundings and notice it, passing it up entirely."

Augustus scoffed. "Of course it's right behind him. How are we gonna get passed?"

"I can, like, seduce him, right? That'll distract him," Brianna suggested.

The Chosen felt his body tense up again. Shoot—the way out was backfiring.

"You can't talk to him, you need me to translate," Augustus replied.

"I don't need words to use my body," Brianna said.

The Chosen looked down at his notes, begging for something to help him out of this so he didn't have to deal with Brianna trying to flirt with the minotaur and him having to deal with that. Then, right at the top, there was his saving grace.

"I want to remind you both that Reuben told you that you're going to need to use noble blood to open the vault," the Chosen said.

"Shoot," Brianna whispered.

"Can I roll Insight to see if the minotaur's going to attack us if we approach?" Augustus asked. The Chosen nodded and he rolled. "15 total."

"It doesn't seem like it—he's come to the understanding that, if you two were really here to rob the whole vault, then you'd be more ready to fight back rather than talk or try any other type of tactic. He's let down his guard and aggression, though can't fully wrap his head around why you're doing this," the Chosen replied.

"His is not to question why, his is to step aside," Augustus said, then paused for a moment before adding: "I politely ask him to step aside."

"He shimmies aside as best as he can in the labyrinth hall, giving you two just enough space to reach the vault door," the Chosen replied.

"I guess I...cut my hand on something—I guess his axe? No, wait , I have a sword, duh—and..." Brianna shrugged, "...I don't know, is there a bowl or something for me to put it in?"

"There's a depression in the door that looks like a handprint, though worn down at the edges so its smooth rather than a cut out or carved," the Chosen described, "it's very different from the carvings and designs you were used to all through the crypt with how it's more of a suggestion rather than something obvious."

"It's weird that it's in such a different style," Augustus mused. The Chosen nodded, trying to piece together what he could do with that himself. In all honesty, he was just describing what he saw in his head, but it was an interesting detail to point out. And pairing it with the Derune sigil and the fact that there's a requirement for noble blood at this point is...odd. Especially if this is a semi used crypt vault to store items confiscated as rent payments or whatever his story was he was spinning. And if that was the case, the minotaur surely had seen someone prior to these two and shouldn't be so shocked by their presence.

Ideas began to churn in his brain, trying to connect the different pieces, and a strong contender formulated.

"Okay," Brianna started, "I put my hand in the hand thing."

"You feel the pressure plate its on lurch under it and back into the wall, then the whole wall slides down into the floor, exposing the room on the other side," the Chosen said, "just like the labyrinth was when you first stepped in, this one is pitch black, seemingly moreso, as if trying to peer into ink itself—"

Augustus, with narrowed eyes and a typical smirk growing on his face, held up a finger to interrupt him. The Chosen put up a hand to stop him.

"And no— you don't have an issue seeing into it, Rhorneth. In fact, this is a darkness that you feel welcomes you in some part," the Chosen said.

Augustus watched him. "Can I roll Religion to see if this is Derune?"

"Please do."

Augustus did. "21."

"It's definitely Derune."

Augustus furrowed his brow and turned to Brianna. "There is something weird about this crypt. Like, very weird."

"But you trust Derune, right?" she asked.

"With every fiber of my being! Which is why this is weird —everything up until this point made it seem like this was a crypt for Oxar worshippers, so why is this vault protected by a Derune seal and why is Derune's darkness permeating in this vault? It doesn't make any sense," he replied.

"What if they are Derune worshippers but they're hiding it?" she asked.

He contemplated it. "I mean, maybe? But...something just doesn't feel like it's adding up."

"So what do you wanna do?"

"I..." he sighed, "...we came here for Reuben's heirloom, I guess we just need to find that and get out of here. If Derune wanted us out of here, he'd make it known to me."

"Okay, I'll follow you."

"Alright, you guys can roll Investigation to search the vault. Dragona, you'll unfortunately be at Disadvantage even with your torch because of this permeating darkness," the Chosen said. Brianna nodded as she and Augustus rolled. Brianna cringed hard at her second roll as Augustus looked up from his.

"15," he said.

"One," she said, "...minus one. So zero."

The Chosen peered over his screen to stare at her d20 in the tray. "Is that our first nat one of the whole game?"

"Is that as cool as a nat 20?" Brianna asked sheepishly.

"Unfortunately, no," the Chosen replied.

"It's the exact opposite," Augustus said.

"Did I go blind?" Brianna asked.

"Not quite," the Chosen said.

"Partially blind," she said.

"No—"

"You just need glasses," Augustus said.

"Quit it," the Chosen said. Augustus laughed. The Chosen continued. "What actually happens is that, during your investigative focus of the other treasures around you, you stumble over a heavy stone chalice you hadn't spotted. You fall to the floor and the torch drops from your hand, extinguishing itself as it rolls away."

"Oh, come on ," she groaned and hung her head back.

"Can you also roll me Perception? At disadvantage since you're in pitch blackness now," the Chosen asked.

Begrudgingly, Brianna did so, though didn't look too unhappy with her results. "18."

He eyed her. "On disadvantage?"

"Yep!" she replied. "I got a 19 first and then a 15 second, so plus three to the 15 because it's worse is 18, right?"

The Chosen nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

Augustus held a hand to his chest. "The padawan becomes the master."

Brianna smiled at him before turning back to the Chosen. "So? What do I notice?"

 "So, you don't see anything, but you sense something. First, there's a heat under your ankle where the stone chalice is. Not like it's on fire or going to hurt you, just a subtle warmth that feels...off; uncharacteristic for a stone item this untouched in an underground place like this.

"Then you begin to feel a separate sensation—this time on your back between your shoulder blades and neck. You know nothing is touching you. This feels like it's hovering just above you, like as if something might be hanging there."

"I don't like that," Brianna grimaced at the description and rolled her shoulders back, "can I like, wave my hand back there to touch what's ever there?"

"You try, but there's nothing," the Chosen replied, "the more you concentrate on the feeling, the more you realize it isn't a physical thing lingering—it's the sensation of something of someone watching you. And since you can't see in here, you can't watch it back."

She shook her hands out. "Nope! Nope! I don't like that!"

"Can I see what's watching her?" Augustus asked.

"I actually want to deal with your Investigation roll first," the Chosen said, "you got a 15, so you're able to find a pile of gold accoutrement that seems to fit the descriptions of what Reuben gave you. In the pile, there's a piece semi buried that's the plate collar necklace in question, at least from what you can gather."

Augustus frowned at the description. "I...I wanna make another roll for that, then I'll get to you, Dragona, because, you know, maybe it's just Derune messing with you. Something feels off with this neckpiece."

"Make another Investigation check for it, then," the Chosen replied.

Augustus rolled. "19."

"This is the piece you're looking for—you don't see any others around at all that fit the description of what you're looking for," the Chosen replied and Augustus nodded, "but—for a family heirloom, this seems very much untouched. Unless they're taking incredibly good care of it and cleaning it often, this looks like it hasn't seen the touch of a person in ages."

"I knew something was off with that Reuben guy!" Augustus said.

"What does that mean?" Brianna asked.

"It's not his, it never was. He's making us steal this!" Augustus said.

Brianna gasped. "Why would he do that?!"

"There must be something important about this necklace—it either symbolizes something in some ritual or coup or...or maybe it's got some kind of magic to it we can't detect right now, I don't know," Augustus said, "but we can't let him have it."

"So are we leaving it here?"

He shook his head. "No, we have to bring it. It's the only way we can find out what he's planning to do with it."

"Ugh, this is so stressful!" Brianna cried.

"Speaking of which-" Augustus looked to the Chosen, "-can I try to see what's watching Dragona?"

"Sure," the Chosen said, "you look to Dragona who's still on the floor and around her, around the vault, and you see nothing."

Augustus stared at him. "I don't see anything?"

"Nothing," he replied.

"There's no one in the vault with us? Not even the minotaur came in with us?"

"Nope."

"Do I still feel someone staring at me?" Brianna asked.

"Yes," the Chosen replied.

Brianna stared at him, then looked back to Augustus. "I want out of here. Right now. Get me out of this vault and the labyrinth right now."

"You got it," Augustus said, "I stash the necklace in my bag and help Dragona off the floor and guide her back to the vault entrance."

"Are you lighting another torch?" the Chosen asked.

"Can I just hop on the minotaur's back and we all just book it out?" Brianna asked.

"Uh..." the Chosen picked up his d20 and rolled behind his screen. Odds were yes and evens were no. It was an 18.

But this was a funnier solution and would be much quicker.

"Sure, he'll let you," he replied.

"Then no, I'm not worrying about the torch," Brianna replied, "he knows the way!"

"Sounds good," the Chosen replied, "the three of you hurry through the labyrinth with the minotaur leading the way for you. The whole time, though, the feeling of the eyes on your back does not leave, Dragona."

Brianna frowned. "If whatever is stalking me isn't hot, I'm gonna be so mad."

"If Perfect Blue taught me anything, it's that most stalkers aren't hot," Augustus said.

"Eventually, the three of you reach the exit that still appears as a black veil back to the crypt. You step through, the minotaur having to bend significantly to try and fit both himself and Dragona through. On the other side, when you expect him to let you down, he doesn't right away," the Chosen said. Brianna and Augustus both eyed him curiously for a moment before Brianna gasped.

"He's never been outside the labyrinth!" she cooed. "Oh, buddy!"

"Ugh, I forgot how sad minotaurs can be in this world when you're really interacting with them," Augustus whispered before looking up to the Chosen and saying, "we need to give them some good stuff somewhere, even just a little bit."

"We can definitely talk minotaur revolution later," the Chosen replied and returned focus to the game, "he puts you down and nods to you, clearly appreciative of helping him escape the labyrinth. The entrance to said labyrinth seals itself up again, the Darkness spell dissipating as Derune understands you no longer are in need of it."

"This is why he's the best," Augustus said.

"Honestly, he seems pretty chill!" Brianna said. "Unless he was the one messing with me in the vault."

"You still feel the eyes on you out here," the Chosen reminded.

" Great ," Brianna groaned.

"You hear from down the crypt hall: 'So Dragona thinks Derune is the best?'" the Chosen continued. Augustus and Brianna's eyes went wide. "You both look over and see Reuben standing with two guards and a young messenger boy at the end of long hall. Reuben, like the guards, is dressed in armor—clad with Oxar's symbol."

"You're absolutely kidding me!" Augustus shouted.

"No!" Brianna screamed.

"'Not only a Derune sympathizer, but also releasing a minotaur?'" the Chosen shook his head, "'What a thing for a Duchess to do.' Reuben leans over to the messenger boy and tells him: 'Run and report this to the king immediately.' and the boy begins to sprint off."

"Uh, um—" Augustus searches his character sheet, then cringes, "I could use Blink and stop him, but that means if this ends up in a fight I'm going to be kind of useless besides the one damage cantrip I've got because we didn't rest," he turned to Brianna, "but I can do this for you Dragona."

Brianna hesitated, contemplating quickly what exactly all of this could mean for her character if it got back to the king, then took Augustus's hand.

"Don't you dare," she decided, "you do your cool character thing that you wanna do that I know you wanna and will be really cool and powerful. I'll deal with my consequences that I'm gonna stick behind."

"I feel like the minotaur also joins you two and puts his hand on top of yours and lets out a snort of support," the Chosen laughed.

"Yeah! He does!" Brianna said, voice so sincere as she grabbed the Chosen's hand and slapped it on top of hers and Augustus's. "Ugh—let's freaking do this!"

"Let's go!"

"Okay—" the Chosen said, "—roll Initiative!"

"Finally," Augustus said, grabbing his d20.

"Yes!" Brianna agreed, then paused. "What does that mean?"

"You're rolling the d20 and adding the number in your Initiative box to determine what order you get to fight in," the Chosen explained.

"Okay—got it," she said and grabbed her d20 as well. The two of them rolled.

"10," Augustus groaned.

"12," Brianna sighed.

"It might not be that bad," the Chosen said as he shook four dice in his hands for Reuben, the two guards, and the minotaur (he decided which color correlated to who so he'd be able to pick out the numbers without bias once they rolled.) "I still have to roll for everyone else, plus you have the minotaur."

"We never even asked his name!" Brianna said.

"We can do that as a free action," Augustus joked.

The Chosen rolled his dice. 17 total for Reuben, 11 total for Guard One, an three total for Guard Two, and 14 for the minotaur. A pretty even spread.

"Okay, so Reuben's going first, and obviously he sees the minotaur as the biggest threat so he's going to attempt to strike him with his longbow from the distance he's at which is about 90 feet away," the Chosen said. He spotted Brianna's eyes narrowing as she glanced around at Augustus's apartment, trying to visualize exactly how far away that was. "You know the huge couch at your house?"

"The 'Sex-tional?' Yeah," she replied.

The Chosen took a deep breath before he continued. "That's about 10 feet long on one side, so imagine nine of those in a row between Dragona and Reuben and that's how far away he is."

"That's so far away!" she said.

"We can both move up to 30 feet per turn, so as long as he doesn't move further away—or he doesn't move closer for whatever reason—it would just take three turns to get to him," Augustus said.

"Oh," she said, "okay, that's not that bad."

"Anyway, Reuben's attacking the minotaur," the Chosen continued and rolled (he got an 8 total.) "That missed and the arrow goes wide—"

Augustus and Brianna high fived.

"—but he does have Multiattack, so he's trying again," the Chosen said, this time getting a 15, "and that one hits."

"No!" Brianna said.

The Chosen rolled the d8 for damage and added the additional two modifier. "It does 8 damage to him as it strikes his chest, clearly catching the minotaur off guard as he staggers back at the pain—something he hasn't felt in who knows how long."

"I brought him out here to be free, not to suffer!" she said. "Can I punch Reuben? What do I roll?"

"You can when you reach him and it's your turn," the Chosen said, "it's still Reuben's turn."

"It's still his turn?!"

"Everyone gets an Action and Movement during combat, then it goes to the next person."

She frowned. "Okay, fine. But he's gonna pay for this."

"Reuben's going to stay where he is for now, but he'll address the two guards and say: 'Find which one has the necklace and take it from them, that's all I care about now,'" the Chosen said.

"I knew we shouldn't have trusted him," Augustus said.

"It's the minotaur's turn now, and he's going to use an Action called Dash, which allows him to basically use Movement twice this round in place of using an attack or other Action," the Chosen explained for Brianna, "so he can go a total of 80 feet towards them this round."

"Oh—so he's right up to them now!" Augustus said.

"Yep."

His face lit up. "Which means he could use—"

The Chosen held up a hand. "Let her find out on her own."

"Let me find out what?" Brianna asked.

Augustus grinned. "Oh...just why minotaurs are cool. Anyway—it's the next person's turn?"

"Dragona's turn, actually," the Chosen replied.

"Me!" Brianna said, then looked down over her character sheet, finger tracing over it to find what she could do. "Um...I'm...assuming I've gotta do something that'll reach them, right?"

"Correct," the Chosen said.

"So it's gotta be that 90 feet, got it," she said. Her face grew pensive as she studied her sheet. "I know I have my big sword, but I've also got this one...the...the ja-violin."

"Javelin," the Chosen said.

"Yeah, and it's got a 30 and a 120 next to it," she said.

"That means the 30 feet is it's normal range for throwing and the 120 feet is the long range. If you try for the long range, you'd have Disadvantage on the roll," he replied.

"I don't really wanna roll with Disadvantage again because it sounded like I got really lucky with the last one, but I'm not gonna be close enough for the 30 feet one," she tapped her finger on the page, then looked up, "could I also Dash?"

"That'd mean you couldn't attack on this round."

She thought about it for a moment longer, then her eyes widened and she sat up straight in her chair. "No! I wanna Dash still! Because of that thing I took! The...the thing! I can- I can take an additional Action on my turn!"

Augustus threw his hands up. "The Action Surge!"

"Yeah! Can I do that?" Brianna asked.

"Yeah—absolutely!" the Chosen replied.

"Okay, I do that!" Brianna clapped and reached to the tray for her dice. Augustus and the Chosen exchanged frankly equally excited glances as she did, impressed by how much she had learned over the one night. She rolled her d20. "What am I adding to it?"

"Your Strength modifier, so the number in the little box under the Strength box," the Chosen replied.

"16 total," she reported.

"Okay, who are you trying to hit?" the Chosen asked.

"Reuben, obviously!" Brianna said. "He hurt my minotaur boy!"

The Chosen nodded and checked Reuben's stat block. a 16 beat his Armor Class of 13. "That hits—" Augustus and Brianna high fived again, "—so roll me your damage. That'll be just one d6, which is the basic square die."

"The one in board games, got it," Brianna said, grabbing hers and rolling it. Her shoulders fell. "A two? "

"It's still damage, so don't beat yourself up too badly over it," he replied.

"Duh—I'm trying to beat up him ," she replied.

"Anything else you wanna do before we move on?"

" Is there anything else I can do?"

"Talking is a free action."

"Crying is also a free action," Augustus added.

"I don't wanna do either of those," Brianna said, paused, then added: "can I ask the minotaur his name?"

"You try but you still don't speak Abyssal," the Chosen replied.

Brianna groaned and hung her head back over the back of her chair. "Okay! I guess I'm done! "

Augustus laughed and the Chosen looked down at the stat blocks in front of himself.

"Alright, it's one of the guard's turns—we'll call him Guard One to keep it easy for now," the Chosen said, "Dragona, since you Dashed on your turn, you're only 30 feet away from them all now, so he's going to use his Movement to get next to you and try to attack you with his spear."

"Rude!" she said. "I don't even have the necklace."

"He doesn't know that, unfortunately, plus you just attacked the person he's supposed to protect, so it doesn't help," the Chosen said and rolled. A 17 plus 3, so a dirty 20. "What's your Armor Class?"

"That's the one in this little shield, right?" she asked and pointed to her sheet.

"Right."

"11."

"It hits you," he said and she scowled as he rolled for the damage, "and you take five points of damage."

"This is stupid!" she complained and picked up her pencil to write in her current health points in the box Augustus pointed her towards. As she glanced over her maximum HP, she paused. "Oh wait, I've got... so much still, nevermind. I'll be fine."

"I built Dragona good, just like I build every character I touch," Augustus said.

"Prove it then, Augustus," the Chosen challenged, "it's your turn."

Augustus beamed, straightening himself in his seat and holding up his hands. "Okay, first thing: I want to take the neckpiece from my bag and whistle to get the guards' and Reuben's attention and shout 'It's over here!'"

"Okay," the Chosen replied, voice slightly hesitant at the idea, "their heads snap to you and they each look enraged that you, the Derune worshipper, has what they're looking for."

"And if you all want it, you better come and get it off my cold dead body!" Augustus continued. "And I put it back in my bag."

"No, Rhory!" Brianna said. "You said you were weak and squishy!"

"I know, but I need them to come to me because I can't get to them fast enough," Augustus explained, then returned his attention to the Chosen, "I'd like to then cast Darkness on my dagger."

"Your dagger?" the Chosen repeated.

"Yep, my dagger," Augustus said with a grin, "trust me, this is my whole thing."

"Alright—you cast Darkness. Much like what happened before with the door, a wave a pitch blackness envelopes the space you called it upon and you feel the presence of Derune around you. Because of your Devil's Sight, you have no issues seeing through this 15 foot sphere around you that your enemies are now going to have to pierce through to try and get that necklace," the Chosen described.

"I have waited for this all night ," Augustus clapped.

"I'm so excited to see what you do!" Brianna cheered.

"Anything else for your turn?" the Chosen asked.

"All good," Augustus replied.

"Alright," the Chosen said, "then Guard Two is going to try and charge for you and into the sphere of Darkness. He's just gonna Dash this round, so he's about 30 feet from you, Rhorneth, so about...22 feet or so from the sphere I believe if you're at the center."

Augustus's grin grew. "Excellent."

"That takes us back to the start to Reuben's turn and he's going to try and attack the minotaur again. And since the minotaur moved so close, he's going to switch to his short sword and get a bit closer himself so he's in range," the Chosen said and rolled, "a 15 hits and he does four damage."

"Quit hurting my unnamed boy!" Brianna said.

"I should've used my free action for that," Augustus whispered.

"And he's gonna Multiattack again," the Chosen rolled again, only getting an 11 this time, "but this time it misses."

"Good," Brianna replied.

"The minotaur's going to take his turn now," the Chosen checked over his stat block, "and since Reuben is too close now, he can't use his Charge attack, so he's instead going to use Reckless to get advantage on his attack against Reuben." The Chosen rolled twice, getting a 24 total on the highest roll. "That definitely hits—" he rolled for damage, "—and—holy frick—that did 22 points of damage."

"Oh my gosh ," Brianna breathed.

"This is why the minotaur was so dangerous for us in the labyrinth," Augustus said.

"Okay, yeah, I see that now," she replied, then held up a hand, "by the way—you're welcome again for getting him on our side."

"Yeah, no, you did good," he replied.

"Dragona, it's your turn," the Chosen said, "which—can you roll Perception for me?"

"Yeah? Sure," she said and rolled. She put a hand under her chin and smiled. "Nat 20."

Perfect , the Chosen thought, then continued aloud: "You're still being watched, and in fact, now you can see them."

Brianna's eyes went wide. "What?"

"A figure is stood alongside the walls of the crypt, separate from the battle. He's dressed in long black robes and a black mask that covers his eyes, just watching you," the Chosen described.

She sat, mouth agape and stared at him as, besides her, Augustus eyed him curiously.

"What does he want?! " Brianna asked. The Chosen shrugged. "No! You can't just shrug at me!"

"I mean you just noticed that he was there, but you can try and roll Insight if you want to figure it out or talk to him," the Chosen said.

"I- a-" she stammered, then groaned and rolled, screamed at her d20 as she flipped off the three she got and looked back at the Chosen as both he and Augustus cackled, "what do you want from me?!"

"Are you yelling this at him?" the Chosen laughed.

"Yes!"

He was quiet for a moment, trying so hard to hold back his smile through pursed lips and failing—then shrugged again.

"I hate you so much!" Brianna yelled. "Can I fight him?!"

"Brianna, please, he's not worth it," Augustus begged.

"I don't want him staring at me!" she replied.

"We are fighting for our lives!" he said.

"The minotaur can handle it! He nearly chopped Reuben in half or whatever! Let me kill this guy!"

"Brianna, it's not worth it—"

"How far away from me is he?" Brianna asked the Chosen.

"About 20 feet since he's just at the wall and you're in the middle of the hallway," he replied.

"So I can run to him and attack him?"

"Sure, but Augustus is right—"

"I do that!"

The Chosen shrugged. "Alright—"

"Stop shrugging! I'm attacking him with my big sword," she said and rolled her d20. She groaned and fell back in her chair. "Oh my gosh, I rolled another three?!"

"Add your Strength," the Chosen said.

"That's only a six total!" she said.

The Chosen nodded. "Yeah...he just sort of...steps out of your way, hands not leaving the pockets of his robes as he watches you and says nothing."

"I'm so mad," Brianna said.

"And here I thought you said you'd be trying to help me in combat," Augustus mused, tapping his pencil against his character sheet.

"You've got your shadow bubble and plans!" she argued.

"No, yeah, I'll be fine," he threw up a hand, "I'm just saying: you promised."

Brianna frowned at him as Augustus looked back at the Chosen.

"It's Guard One's turn, and he's going to go after you, Rhorneth. He'll Dash to you, which is going to put him in the sphere of Darkness, but he's not taking an attack this round since he has no Action available," the Chosen said.

"Perfect," Augustus replied.

"Your turn," he said.

"Okay," Augustus began, "I want to attack the guard, and since I can see him because of Devil's Sight and he can't see me, I'll get advantage—"

"Correct," the Chosen said.

"So I'm specifically using the cantrip, Booming Blade, as my attack, which means if my attack is successful, he not only gets hit by the weapon's normal attack, but also will take 1d8 thunder damage if he willingly moves five feet or more before my next turn," Augustus explained, preparing to roll.

The Chosen studied him.

"I can see why you built Rhorneth this way," the Chosen said.

"This isn't even the entirety of his chain of abilities." Augustus grinned and rolled. "17."

"Just barely passed," the Chosen replied.

Augustus grimaced and glanced down at his sheet. "I see a sudden flaw in the way I built him."

"You forgot to stat him for the daggers, didn't you?" the Chosen asked. Augustus's eyes darted back up to him and he was quiet for a moment, then grabbed his dice for damage.

"I still passed, so shut up," he rolled, "he takes four damage."

"Got it," he marked it down, "do you move?"

"Nope. That's his choice," Augustus said, smug smirk returning.

"Alright, Guard Two enters the sphere and is going to try and attack you with his spear," the Chosen said.

"He has disadvantage," Augustus reminded.

"I know," the Chosen said, and rolled, "and...he got a one, so definitely misses."

"Does he stab his friend?!" Brianna asked.

The Chosen considered it, then rolled. "Yeah."

"Oh no!" she laughed with a hand to her mouth.

"He does five damage to the other guard," the Chosen said.

"Oh no! " she squealed.

Augustus threw a hand up to the air. "Thank you, Derune!"

"Yeah, Guard One's not doing great," the Chosen said, "so that brings us back up to Reuben, who's going to attack the minotaur again. Because the minotaur used Reckless, Reuben gets advantage on the attacks he makes against it for this turn."

"He could still miss," Augustus said, seeing Brianna's concern.

"But he could do good like you did!" she said.

"I absolutely barely did, but thank you," Augustus replied.

"That..." the Chosen began, "...was a nat 20."

"Oh no ," Augustus said, putting his head in his hands.

"But he's going to be okay, right?" Brianna asked.

"Reuben gets to roll double the damage dice," Augustus said as the Chosen grabbed his extra d6.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," the Chosen said and rolled, "so that's 11 damage."

"No!" Brianna said.

"And now, again, he's doing his Multiattack," the Chosen said, "and he'll still have advantage."

"Can you stop hurting our boy?" Augustus asked.

"Your 'boy' doesn't even have a name," the Chosen replied and rolled.

"Oh my gosh, I forgot to ask his name again," Augustus breathed.

"He's gonna die and we aren't gonna know his name," Brianna whined.

"I hate to tell you guys this," the Chosen said, a single, bewildered laugh escaping him.

"Don't you dare—don't you dare say another nat 20," Augustus snapped.

"Two, actually," he replied. Augustus groaned and fell to the table.

"So what happens now?!" Brianna cried.

"I'm just treating it as one 20, so nothing extra, but it's going to be the same thing with the double damage roll as last time," the Chosen said, readying his d6's.

"I cannot believe this is happening," Augustus said.

"He's gonna die ," Brianna said, "and we just gave him freedom."

"That's 12 damage," the Chosen said.

"How does he look?" Augustus asked, picking up his head.

The Chosen frowned. "Not great. The minotaur's bleeding pretty bad."

Augustus groaned and turned to Brianna. "Dragona—you've got to go help him."

"But what about you?" she asked.

"I'll be fine—go help him! Forget whatever stupid thing you're cursed with and go save the person who deserves it!" he said.

Brianna watched him, clearly wanting to say something, but finally just nodding before turning to the Chosen. "I wanna go help the minotaur!"

"Okay—it is the minotaur's turn right now, though."

"Oh, right, yeah. The turn order we've been in this whole time," she said.

"It's okay," he said, "the minotaur is going to use Reckless again so he can have advantage against Reuben." He rolled. "And that hits." He rolled for damage. "And that does...huh."

"What?" Brianna asked.

"Well," the Chosen began, "the two of you watch as your beat up minotaur friend takes his axe and...absolutely cleaves the head off of Reuben?"

"He kills him?!" Augustus laughed.

"Yep," the Chosen replied.

"Well..." Brianna started, "...I guess he didn't need our help."

The two paused, then Augustus held out his hand to her. "Valiant effort to want to assist him."

"You, too," she replied, shaking his hand.

"So with Reuben dead," the Chosen said, "the minotaur is going to turn and start running to help Augustus with the two guards in the sphere of Darkness. Now it's your turn, Dragona."

"Uh..." she paused, trying not to look at Augustus.

"Don't you dare," he warned.

"Is..."

"Don't—"

"Is the guy still watching me?" she asked the Chosen.

"He's still there. Hasn't moved. Just watching you," the Chosen replied.

"What is his deal? " she questioned, exasperation returning.

"Just leave him alone! He's not gonna do anything!" Augustus said.

"Can I ask him a question? Then I'll leave him alone," she said.

"Fine," Augustus conceded.

"Are you not gonna help us?!" she asked to the Chosen. "Or are you just gonna stand by and watch like a creep?"

The Chosen took a deep breath, taking his time before answering the question. When he did speak, the voice he spoke in was slower and incredibly even tone, almost to the point of bored. It was one so specific, that he noticed Augustus, again, eye him.

"'I'm not allowed to interfere,'" the Chosen replied.

"Why not? If you're gonna be here, do something!" Brianna said.

Another deep breath and pause. "'My only purpose in existence is as an omen, though, for you, once you touched the chalice I was trapped in, it's as a curse.'"

"Yeah, I can see that," she replied.

Another sigh. "'Yeah.'"

"No—shut up. Stop sighing—you—what are you?! Why are you like this?"

"'Me?'"

"Yes, you!"

He watched her. "'Simple: I let people know Yolv is coming for their soul,' he begins, then you see a great pair of shadow-y, feathered wings outstretch from under his black robes, casting themselves over the crypt wall behind him, 'I am an angel of death.'"

Brianna stared at the Chosen for a moment.

"Cool," she started, "I don't like you. I'm gonna go help everyone else. And then I Dash to the sphere of Darkness."

"Fair enough," the Chosen replied.

"I can't believe that's what you did with him," Augustus mused.

"That's so spooky," Brianna said.

"Yeah, very spooky," Augustus replied, though the Chosen could tell there was more he wanted to say, he was just holding it back for when session was over.

"You can definitely reach the sphere if you Dash, but that's the end of your turn," the Chosen told Brianna. She gave him a thumbs up. "Guard One is going to try and attack Rhorneth—does an 11 hit?"

"It's exactly my AC, so yes," Augustus replied with a frown, "I knew I should've used Armor of Shadows when I had the chance."

"You take five damage," the Chosen said.

"Not...awful," Augustus replied.

"And he's going to stay in place for now since he's so badly hurt and he knows he can hit you from here," the Chosen said.

Augustus fell back in his chair and hung his head back as he groaned. "For crying out—why did I forfeit my move last time? I could've just moved 10 feet back and been out of his spear range and forced him to move enough to get affected by Booming Blade! I'm smarter than this!"

"Yeah, it's okay! You're really smart, Augustus!" Brianna insisted.

"Not if I'm being this stupid," Augustus replied, "this stuff is obvious. I'm being such an idiot."

"It's your turn," the Chosen said.

"Which means Booming Blade is no longer in effect on him," Augustus grumbled. He studied his sheet and shook his head. "I...ugh, I'm just gonna use Eldritch Blast on the second guard since he's got the most health and my dagger's not gonna do anything."

"Alright, roll to hit, still with advantage because of the Devil's Sight," the Chosen said.

Augustus rolled, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm...going to scream. That's a 13 total, even with a modifier of seven."

"That unfortunately doesn't hit," the Chosen replied.

"Yeah, no kidding," Augustus huffed.

"It doesn't hit any of your teammates, but the blast of purple energy goes wide, flying out of the sphere of Darkness and cracking through a chunk of the crypt wall," the Chosen described. Augustus still looked upset, just staring down at his character sheet and twisting one of his dice around. "Do you want to make any movement or anything?"

"No," he said.

"Okay," the Chosen replied, "so Guard Two is going to try and attack you."

"Bet he gets another nat 20," Augustus mumbled.

The Chosen rolled and stared at his dice. A 19, then a one.

"Actually the opposite," the Chosen replied.

"This guy sucks ," Brianna laughed. Augustus eyed the Chosen, not sharing Brianna's elation. The Chosen tried to ignore Augustus's suspicion, especially since the roll was legitimate.

"Since nearly everyone is in the sphere this time, I'm going to assign everyone a number and see who he attacks," the Chosen said, scribbling down all the characters in the Darkness in his journal and giving them a number one through four (not including Rhorneth since he was the initial target and with one indicating no one.) He rolled a four—which was Guard Two. "So...he attacks himself."

"He sucks! " Brianna howled, which made the Chosen smile as he prepared to roll for damage. Still, he noticed Augustus not sharing in the humor.

"It only does one damage, though," the Chosen said.

"Still sucks," Brianna said, then nudged Augustus with her elbow, "see? You're better than that guy."

He shrugged. "Not that hard."

"That's gonna take us back up to the minotaur since Reuben's dead," the Chosen said, "he's going to use a move called Charge to try and attack Guard Two. Even though the minotaur isn't in the sphere yet, he'd be reaching it by using all his movement for this, so we're going to still use disadvantage on the attack for it."

"If he misses and hits me with it, I'm going to explode," Augustus warned.

"He's not going to hit you," Brianna said.

"Just watch, I've got that kind of luck tonight," Augustus replied.

The Chosen rolled, staring at the base two and 12 he got. While he didn't want to fudge the roll with how Augustus was already getting suspicious of his legitimate rolls, he also felt like he needed to get this combat done with since Augustus was starting to get so irritated (something he had not missed about playing D&D with him.) He just had to play it off without specifics.

"That hits," he lied, grabbing his dice for damage. Augustus finally sat back up straight, but still fidgeting with his dice. "And he takes nine damage for the regular gore attack, but because it's the Charge attack, it also adds an additional nine, so that's 18..." the Chosen looked at the guard's stat block again, "...which means he's also dead because that was all of his health."

Augustus and Brianna stared at the Chosen for a moment.

"We should've just let the minotaur loose and stepped back," Augustus said.

"I'm really glad we're all in this bubble of Darkness so we don't have to see how bad that probably was," Brianna mused.

"Also fair," Augustus said.

The Chosen looked to Brianna. "Your turn."

She paused and thought. "I guess I stab Guard One and really hope I hit him."

"Sounds good," the Chosen replied. Brianna rolled her d20 twice, frowning at the results.

"A nat 20 and a three, which means I have to take the three because of disadvantage," she said, mainly for herself, "so that's a six total."

"That doesn't hit," the Chosen replied.

"No, duh," she said.

"Anything else on your turn?"

"No."

"Well, I think Guard One is gonna try and flee since the other guard and Reuben are both dead now," the Chosen said, checking his notes.

Augustus suddenly lit up and threw his arms up. "I get an attack of opportunity!"

"Absolutely," the Chosen said.

"What's that?" Brianna whispered to the Chosen.

"If an enemy leaves your range without using the Disengage action, you get to attack them," he replied.

"Shouldn't the guard have done that to me earlier when I went after the curse guy? Because I was right next to him and then ran off," she asked.

"It's fine—it's too late for it now anyway," the Chosen shrugged, though noticed Augustus trying to hide his eye roll.

"18," Augustus reported after he rolled his d20.

"That hits," the Chosen replied, "roll damage."

"The nice thing is that, even if my damage sucks, since I've got the Sentinel trait as a Human Variant, his movement gets reduced to zero so he's not going anywhere," Augustus gloated, then rolled, "two piercing damage."

"And he's not going anywhere," the Chosen said. Augustus clasped his hands together, properly satisfied in himself again. "It's your turn now, Rhorneth."

"Well," Augustus smiled, "I might as well finish this. Let's try that Eldritch Blast again, shall we?"

"Go ahead," the Chosen replied.

Augustus rolled, his grin growing. "Does a 24 hit?"

"Yes."

"Great." He rolled for damage. "Four damage."

The Chosen nodded, marking it down. "Alright, then we go back to the minotaur, who's going to first remove the other guard from his horns, then try and hit the remaining one with his axe."

Brianna crossed her fingers. "Please don't hit us, you're so strong."

"He misses, but he doesn't hit either of you," the Chosen said, "his axe just strikes the stone floor near the guard and the sound clangs and echoes in the crypt. Dragona—your turn."

"I'm gonna try and stab him again; that's all I've got!" Brianna said.

"You've got your breath weapon. You know—breathing fire," the Chosen suggested.

Brianna gasped. "I do!"

"Didn't she already use that?" Augustus asked.

"That was as a joke, it didn't count," the Chosen replied. Augustus frowned, trying to keep it as neutral as he could to hold back the scowl the Chosen could tell he wanted it to be.

"Do I have to roll for it?" Brianna asked, too caught up in reading over her sheet to notice the silent back and forth between them.

"No, I have to roll for the guard to try and beat the..." the Chosen glanced over her character sheet, "...Dexterity DC of 12. Which—" the Chosen rolled, "—he does not succeed, so roll damage."

Brianna grinned and grabbed 2d6s, adding them up with Augustus leaning over towards her to count them up with her.

"10!" she reported.

"Okay," the Chosen said, "how do you kill him?"

"I do it?!" Brianna gasped, though still smiling.

"Yep," the Chosen replied.

"Oh my gosh!" She turned to Augustus and grabbed his hand. "Oh my gosh, I did it!"

Augustus put his free hand to his chest and smiled. "I'm so proud."

She turned back to the Chosen, still ecstatic. "Um...I guess I...cook him like a chicken like they do in those old cartoons. You know how they just like...turn to a rotisserie and then to ash and then collapse to the floor."

The Chosen hesitated, then took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, that works."

Brianna, again, cheered, and threw herself over to hug Augustus before pulling the Chosen into the hug over the table, too.

***

They ended the game not long after since it was getting late (one-shots always tended to last longer than anyone ever planned for.) Brianna was invested, though, and insisted they play again at some point. She wanted to know more about the world, what their characters were going to do next since they got reported to the king for being Derune and minotaur sympathizers, how they were going to help their minotaur friend (who they finally found out was named Hirdor), and what they were going to do about her curse. She was thoroughly into the game and story.

She had, however, left for the night already. One of her other influencer friends was throwing a party and she needed to show up at some point in the night, though she made sure to finish up the session first before heading out. So in the end, it was just him and Augustus at Augustus's apartment, halfheartedly having cleaned up the dice and snacks before going to start watching One Punch Man instead.

"So, can I ask you a question?" Augustus asked, stretched out in the dark on one end of the old gray couch in his living room.

"Depends on the question," the Chosen replied from the other end of the couch.

"It's an important question, I assure you," Augustus insisted.

The Chosen considered it. "Alright."

"Why'd you base Dragona's curse on your step-brother?" Augustus asked.

The Chosen's head snapped over to him. "He was not based on my brother."

"He was totally Byron."

"You know he doesn't go by Byron—he goes by the Bystander and he was not the angel of death."

"Mm-hm."

"He's not!"

"Sure. He's definitely not. And I definitely believe you."

The Chosen glared at him. Augustus just watched the TV and grinned.

"This is why I hate playing D&D with you," the Chosen grumbled.

"Uh-huh," Augustus replied, then added: "so when are we playing next?"

The Chosen was quiet.

"I'll set up a schedule," he finally said.

Chapter Text

The whole affair with Brianna's doxxing situation had gotten relatively sorted out, though Augustus thought the solution was way more work than necessary, especially with how close he had gotten to resolving it himself (no thanks to Bryce.)

"So you just bought a whole new house? " he had asked Brianna as they waited in her car outside the Chosen's mom's house to hang out at Madness Mall that day.

"Oh yeah," Brianna replied, as if it wasn't such an absurd idea, "my manager, Melinda, suggested it because it'd be the easiest way to keep people from coming to my house since my address would be different, plus house tours do like...super good in the algorithm."

"You shouldn't just buy a new house for SEO reasons," he replied.

She shrugged. "People do it all the time. Like...isn't that what people complain about..." he watched her eyebrows furrow as her brain worked overtime, "...CEOs doing all the time?"

Augustus held his breath for a moment, contemplating how worth it it was to explain what he really meant, but he'd rather argue about the house itself than semantics of acronyms.

"I just think it's ridiculous they made you go through all that work instead of them doing the work to fix the actual issue," Augustus said.

"I mean, I think it's fun, because I like the new house," she replied, "plus now I get to throw a party to show it off to everyone. Melinda said that's a good idea because, like, networking and boosting my reputation. And I wanna party."

Right, a house full of influencers posting and live streaming in the new house she moved to specifically to avoid doxxing. Definitely no way her address is going to get leaked a second time.

He wanted to argue again, so badly. But by that point the Chosen got to the car and he decided to drop it.

Later in the week, while busy with the most important work in the world (reviewing things online in the comfort of his own apartment,) Augustus got a text from Brianna that distracted him greatly from it.

btw idk if u & chosen got the hint but ur both invited to my party this wknd!!! 🎉🎉🎉

only if u wanna come tho (but u totes should) ❤️🥰✨

—Brianna (10:23pm)

Augustus stared at the text for a moment, then picked up the phone and called the Chosen.

" Augustus ," the Chosen greeted.

"Did Brianna text you?" Augustus asked.

" Yes. She's informed me of the party ," the Chosen replied.

"Okay," he replied, feeling some sense of grounding. Then, as the reality of the situation became clear, the grounding was ripped away.

The two were silent.

"What do—" Augustus started, then cut himself off, "—we've never been invited to a party before, much less by a girl like Brianna."

He heard the Chosen take a deep breath. " Well, first we should determine whether we're accepting or not. "

"Yeah, okay—" Augustus shook his head, knowing exactly how this was about to go, "—are you going?"

A pause.

" Are you? "

"I don't know—are you?"

Another pause.

" I don't know ."

"Wow, great, that got us nowhere. What's your next brilliant suggestion?"

Another sigh from the Chosen. " We should assess what kind of party we expect it to be ."

"The worst set of toxic influencers you've seen gathered in one place being corralled by Brianna," Augustus groaned.

" Mm ."

"Does that sound fun to you?"

" Not particularly. "

"So not going?"

Another pause.

"See that's my problem!" Augustus said before the Chosen could speak. "Everything about the environment of this party sounds like it would be a nightmare, yet for some reason I still want to go!"

" I'm trying hard not to think too hard about the implications of it. "

"Because this is the exact type of party we weren't invited to in highschool and now we get to feel validated for getting to go to one?"

" I said I wasn't thinking about it— "

"Are we going or not?!"

" We've got a few days to decide. Let's...just think it over. "

Augustus rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever."

Those few days passed, and they realized they still hadn't decided. The Chosen stood on the other side of the Gamestop counter from Augustus. Both had their arms crossed, neither able to look the other in the eye.

"One of us has to make the decision," the Chosen said.

"I'm aware," Augustus replied.

And then, again, they were quiet.

Augustus glanced around him. Nothing really worked for a tie breaker in a way that felt satisfying (a coin toss wasn't going to be good enough for the weight of what was at stake, plus he couldn't open the register unless someone was buying something.) There wasn't enough time in his shift left to boot up any games to determine who'd make the decision between the two of them, either. They'd have to resort to something esoteric; something simpler.

"Alright," Augustus began, "we have to Rock-Paper-Scissors this."

The Chosen eyed him. "What?"

"It's the only way we can force one of us to make the decision. We do one round and whoever loses has to decide if we're going or not," he replied.

"I'm not playing Rock-Paper-Scissors against you."

"Well, I'm not fighting you in the parking lot because that's super unfair since one of us has had ultra secret chosen one training that the other one got abandoned for."

The Chosen frowned at him.

"Rock-Paper-Scissors or you concede defeat and have to pick," Augustus insisted.

The Chosen huffed. "Fine. On shoot."

"Of course."

The two, still stood at the Gamestop counter, played out their game of Rock-Paper-Scissors. On "Shoot", the Chosen threw out Rock and Augustus had Scissors. Augustus frowned as the Chosen watched him, returning his hand to where it had been tucked in his crossed arms.

"So? Are we going or not?" the Chosen asked.

Augustus considered it thoroughly.

And a few hours later, the two were pulling into the driveway of Brianna's new house, already packed full of cars. Every single one of them was probably ten times the price of Augustus's Subaru when it was new , much less now that it was nearly two decades old. And even back from where they parked, they could hear bass from the music from the house reverberating.

"Please tell me you texted her we're here," Augustus asked the Chosen as they got out of the car.

"As soon as we got on the street," the Chosen replied, "I figured that would give her enough time to not realize she got the notification, then see her phone, then get to the door by the time we also got there."

"Great," Augustus sighed, eyeing the house as they began to approach it, feeling the regret of agreeing to come creeping in, "let's hope she actually is there to meet us."

They approached the mansion, passing the throngs of Instagram worthy cars and the matching people dotted about them either chatting with each other or to their phone cameras (or both, really.) Augustus recognized a couple of them from the Smosh videos he had to edit or Totally True Documentary episodes or the latest YouTube apologies all the drama channels were milking that week. None of them paid any attention to the two of them as they walked up, which was no surprise—they couldn't see anything beyond themselves unless it was in the reflection of a viewfinder.

The front door was wide open and the music and noise of the party spilled out—as did Brianna when she stumbled over her own heels and the people crowding the foyer, barely catching herself on the doorframe and part of her drink spilling out of her cup onto the patio steps.

"Oh my gosh, hi!" she sang, picking herself out of the entanglement from the doorway to step outside and greet them both properly with a hug like she usually did. Augustus was used to them and didn't think twice about it, but the Chosen still went tense and didn't reciprocate it (though Brianna didn't mind.)

"I'm so glad you guys came!" she continued, then waved them to follow her back in. "Come on, come on! I gotta show you around the house!"

She grabbed Augustus's hand (because she was still sober enough to recognize the Chosen wasn't going to be too tolerant of too much physical touch just yet) and led them inside. They dodged around the people clogging the entrance that Augustus desperately wanted to call out for the lack of fire safety of all of it but didn't have time with how fast Brianna was pulling them through. Plus, they wouldn't have listened to him anyway.

The mansion, unsurprisingly, was extravagant. Spacious beyond belief (when Augustus mentally removed all the people in it) and with exceptionally tall ceilings for all the rooms to show off the modern chandeliers that were all shut off so Brianna could instead have the party lights going. Huge windows lined most of the outward walls while art decorated the inward ones (though a lot of that art was prints of the NFTs Bryce convinced her to buy.) The furniture looked mostly familiar, though, at least what new stuff wasn't bought to fill up space she didn't have before.

"Do you like it?" she asked with a smile, eagerly looking between the two of them.

"It's very you," the Chosen replied. Augustus noticed a slight wave of relief wash through Brianna as her smile grew.

"Thank you!" she said.

"I only have one question, and it's very important—" Augustus began.

Brianna nodded, already pointing to a room off the living room they were stood in. "Kitchen's over there!"

"Thank you!" Augustus replied with a grin.

"You're welcome!" she replied and set her head on his shoulder briefly. She then gasped and reached into her pocket. "I almost forgot! I was gonna give you guys keys to my bedroom for tonight."

Augustus and the Chosen's eyes went wide for a moment and they glanced at each other before turning back to her.

"Uh, why?" the Chosen asked.

Brianna eyed them as she handed them both keys as if they were strange for questioning it. "Uh...'cause if you wanna get away from everything to somewhere quiet? Duh?" She rolled her eyes and her voice lowered. "It's not like Bryce is gonna pull a 180 and do something that makes me wanna use it tonight. He's already made that clear."

The two nodded and Brianna finished off her drink. She started to walk backwards towards the wide open glass doors to the backyard and she pointed to the two of them.

"I'm gonna go to the bar, but if you two need anything, come find me!" she called to them and threw up a peace sign with another big smile. "Have fun!"

Augustus and the Chosen waved at her as she turned and left, neither moving from where she left them. As Augustus contemplated his best route through the crowds into the kitchen, he saw the Chosen deep in thought besides him.

"How in the world could she make enough money off of just YouTube for a place like this?" the Chosen pondered.

Augustus watched him for a moment, but in the end couldn't bring himself to admit how Brianna had had him help her learn how to decipher her OnlyFans analytics once a couple months ago. If Brianna wanted to bring it up, that was her business, not his.

"She also sells merch," Augustus said. Which, admittedly, was not a lie. It just wasn't all she did.

The Chosen nodded. Apparently that was enough of an answer.

Augustus, again, watched the Chosen. What a paradox of a man—this was someone who was supposed to have been trained to seek the workings of the universe to the point he abandoned all else was also satisfied by such a simple answer. He almost aspired to be that level of content.

But...then again...

"Come on," Augustus said, prodding the Chosen with his elbow towards the kitchen, "let's get food."

***

Brianna held her new drink with both hands tight as she sat on the countertop of the bar, listening close to everything Isosceles was saying to her.

"Brianna, I am telling you," he warned, hand grasping her shoulder as he surveyed the party around them, "the vibes—they're off."

"What, why?" she cried. "You worked so hard to set them right!"

"I know, I'm an excellent Vibe Consultant and you paid me so much money," he replied, "which is why I can sense the imbalance. The energy..." he shook his head, "...it's corrupted."

"But they haven't shut our power off once tonight!" she replied.

"No, not that energy," he turned to her, "the ethereal energy—the one within, connecting everyone."

"How can you fix it?"

Isosceles contemplated it, glancing again around at the party around them with a keen eye as he weighed his options. He turned back to Brianna.

"I need another thousand dollars, then I can begin my assessment of where it's stemming," he told her. Brianna nodded furiously and pulled her phone from her bra, tapping away on it. Isosceles eyed her screen as she, with no hesitation, flipped through her CashApp—but he wouldn't believe it until he saw it come through his own phone. It was usually her manager who sent him the money, so he wasn't sure how capable of sending it Brianna really was. But, after a moment, he felt the vibration of the notification buzz through his cloak and he peeked at his phone just to make sure it was from that.

"Excellent," he said, returning his phone to his pocket and then holding up one hand to his temple and the other out towards the party guests, "now...I must assess."

Brianna held her breath as she watched Isosceles work, brow pensive and lip of her cup pressed to her mouth, too anxious to take a sip until she knew she wasn't the one causing the bad vibes.

"I sense..." he began, making Brianna's body go tense, "...something is going to go wrong tonight."

"What? What's going to go wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head. "It's unclear. There's too much conflicting energy here tonight and it's interrupting my third eye's sight to the future."

"But- but-" she stammered, "these are the people I always invite!"

Isosceles shot a look back to her. "There's no one new tonight? Not at all?"

Brianna furrowed her brow deep in thought, running through the list of all the people she could think of that showed up. It was the usual crowd of influencers she got grouped with and the people they'd drag along, then the up-and-coming stars that her managers said should show up to make her look cool and whoever they wanted to bring along, Bryce and his friends because of course they were there, some assorted people she kind of knew from somewhere probably at some point, then whoever else showed up because they heard there was a party—the normal people!

"I mean..." she shook her head, "...not really! Everyone that's supposed to be here showed up. The only kind of new ones are my friends Chosen and Augustus, but that's only 'new' because they've never been to one of my parties before."

Isosceles gasped, hand to his chest, making Brianna's heart leap.

"What?" she asked.

"I was not consulted on this Chosen and Augustus," he replied, "describe them to me! I must find and read them."

"Uh..." Brianna shrugged, "...like, so, Chosen is wearing his usual sunglasses and cargo shorts and he's wearing his charcoal three wolf shirt instead of his ash gray three wolf shirt—" she described, trying not to stumble over her words as she saw Isosceles cringe at the thought, "—and Augustus is wearing his usual purple flannel with one of his anime shirts that I think he said one time was called... One Pizza . He's also got his hair in a ponytail and glasses."

Isosceles put his hands up and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to take in the information and keep from looking actively offended from having to even picture any of that.

"Are you serious? " he asked. Brianna paused, considering it.

"No, wait, you're right—" she started, "—it's actually the One Pizza shirt with pictures from the comic, not from the anime."

Isosceles stared at her and she stared back blankly.

"You invited these people here? " he asked.

"Yeah? They're my friends," she replied.

Isosceles rolled his eyes and waved a hand as he turned to leave. "Then I will go see if I can sense if they're ruining the vibes."

Brianna frowned as he left, swinging her legs under her as she continued sitting on the bartop. She glanced around the backyard, watching people partying, dancing in front of the DJ booth, plenty swimming around the huge pool or chilling in the hot tub, then a few curious sets of congregators on the other side of the pool that she couldn't quite parse out what they were doing.

She didn't get Isosceles's aversion to the Chosen or Augustus. What made them different from everyone else here? They were as much her people as anyone else here. She had fun with them and she had fun with all the other people she invited. They were just as interesting as everyone else, and that's all she ever wanted from someone. In fact, all someone had to be was interesting to her to be worth her time.

(Well, if she was going to sleep with them, they'd have to be hot, too, but if she just wanted to hang out with them, they just needed to be interesting, and most people could fit that bill.)

That's why she liked being a YouTuber (besides the money and attention.) Things got to be interesting, and she got to meet interesting people. She never would've gotten to throw parties like this with all these kinds of people if she wasn't one, and she wouldn't have gotten to meet the Chosen and through him, Augustus. So why couldn't they be here? Something else must've been messing with the vibes.

But then again, she wasn't the Vibe Consultant. What did she know?

"Hey girl!" a voice called from besides her. Brianna's head snapped back over to the bar from the party to spot Kimber sidling up next to her.

"Oh my gosh—hi, Kimber!" Brianna greeted, leaning over to hug her.

"Pretty amazing party so far," Kimber said as she returned the hug, stance slightly unsteady from whatever buzz she was experiencing already.

"You think so? Like the vibes are good?" Brianna asked.

"Are you kidding?" Kimber laughed and pointed to one of the groups Brianna hadn't quite made sense of on the other side of the pool. "There's a guy over there that's killing it at flip cup and it's so wild that we were all losing it!"

Brianna followed her gaze and made a better effort at making sense of the crowd she pointed at. This time, she could figure it out now that she had the context.

There, in the middle of the crowd cheering them on, the Chosen was up against Dominic Perignon at flip cup. And the Chosen was clearly winning.

(She could not, for the life of her, figure out how he got convinced into playing the game, but she desperately hoped he was having fun.)

"Yeah, it was insane ," Kimber continued, "it was like he didn't want to drink at all, the guy was so good at it."

A bubble of joy started to form in Brianna's chest, one she was hoping wasn't going to get popped by whatever Isosceles determined for his vibe check.

"You know," Brianna began, trying not to laugh, "you might be onto something there, Kimber."

A bit later after Brianna had taken some time up dancing with some of her besties she spotted around, she was wandering around and spotted a lone Dam Dameron hidden away besides the singular tree looming over the yard, watching the party around him but clearly overwhelmed. He always tended to get this way at some point at any influencer party she saw him at (it made sense, he had grown so fast onto the scene and he was still only in highschool. Or she thought he was—he wasn't supposed to be drinking yet, she knew that. She was all for partying, but she was not gonna let Dameron specifically underage drink. He was too sweet of a kid and he had made a point of it at all the parties they crossed paths at that he really didn't want to, so she made sure he didn't have to worry about it.)

"Dameron!" she called as she hurried over to him. Dameron's head snapped over to her and he waved, though his semi-deer-in-the-headlights look she saw so often at these parties lingered. He clutched his soda in his hand and close to his chest as he pressed himself against the tree, looking even more like he wanted to blend into its shadows (admittedly, he was dressed for it in all that black. The Eboy fashion was weirdly the way to go for that look.)

"Hey, Brianna," Dameron replied as she came up next to him.

Brianna leaned on the tree besides him. "You good?"

"Yeah, yeah," he nodded, eyes darting around the party again, "just...you know...uh...lots of people and things going on and I, uh..." he took a deep breath, brow furrowing in concern as he stared out at everything, "...still don't know how to talk to anyone here really."

"Oh, Dameron," she frowned, "but you're such a great guy! People would love to talk to you!"

"No, yeah, no, I..." he spluttered, "...thanks, Brianna. I know- I know you're talking to me and it's easy to talk to you, but like...other people are...different?" He shook his head. "Ugh, it's stupid. It's so different when we're not behind screens and stuff, you know? I can't like, try it a couple times before I commit to what I say so I keep just thinking about what I might say and what everyone else might say and then...freaking myself out."

"Aw," Brianna cooed, leaning over and hugging Dameron who leaned into her and sighed, the simple action helping to relieve at least a tiny bit of the weight on his shoulders, "I promise: no one cares that much to think that hard here."

"No- yeah- I-" he stammered, then nodded, "yeah, I know."

A sudden fervent energy hit him that made him breakaway from Brianna, making her eye him curiously as he turned back to one of the groups around the pool she had noticed earlier but different than the ones playing flip cup.

"But!" he started, pointing to the group that had his attention. "There was this one guy that clearly cared about, like, everything in a way that was so fun to the point I felt like I could talk because everyone was talking to him so that helped because we were all kind of doing it and I could kind of break out of everything for a little bit and it was awesome!"

"Yeah?" Brianna asked.

"Yeah!" he said with a smile. "So, like, Mr. Monster's here and he's challenging people to try and beat this guy at an argument and if you win you get $1000! And I tried it and I didn't win but that didn't matter because I had fun! I don't even remember what we argued about but that doesn't matter because I could just talk and get excited and everyone was laughing and getting into it and it was great!"

"That's awesome, Dameron!" she replied and finally followed his gaze to the group. She first spotted, of course, Mr. Monster, in his usual black hoodie and hat, riling up people to get in on his $1000 bet like he always did. And then she saw a red faced Tucker LaMace (no doubt the latest of the argument losers) being pulled away by Madison who looked frustrated with him (probably for wasting his time.)

And then she saw Augustus, lounged in one of the pool chairs like a king with a bowl of some snack in hand she couldn't make out from that distance, with as pleased a grin as ever on his face.

The bubble again swelled in Brianna's chest and she set a hand on Dameron's shoulder.

"I'm so glad you had fun," she told him. Dameron smiled back at her.

***

Augustus found the Chosen a while later, stood by the hedges along one side of the enormous pool no one else was. He had taken up his usual sentry like stance of crossed arms and observation, making him look particularly stiff under such loose energy of a party like that one.

"How's it going for you?" Augustus asked as he sidled up to him, prying a few leftover pretzels from his flannel pocket and offering one to him. The Chosen eyed it for a moment, then took it.

"Fine," he replied, "I was tricked into a drinking game, but I managed to not have to drink anything."

"How drunk did everyone else get?" Augustus laughed.

"Very," the Chosen replied, then tossed the pretzel up to catch in his mouth. It smacked him in the face.

"It clearly wasn't beer pong with that aim," he teased, though offered another pretzel.

"Shut up." The Chosen at first didn't move for the offer, but then took it, though this time didn't try to throw it to himself.

"I had a challenge of my own that I also crushed the competition for," Augustus bragged.

"I heard."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're very loud."

Augustus eyed him, then turned back to the party. "Then you heard how good I was."

"You certainly have your talents."

They watched the party beyond them in quiet, though it itself roared on. Plenty of people were drunk or high or some combination, and there was plenty of chaos running amok across Brianna's backyard and no doubt through her new house. Augustus doubted she had enough insurance for all of this, but what did he know? Maybe her manager looked out for that part of her life, at least. Melinda Mare certainly wasn't looking out for Brianna's real well being.

Amidst all of the chaotic throng, he spotted the face he was hoping would've gotten lost in the mess, one he was hoping might not ever spot him that night. But he couldn't get that lucky.

Bryce was over at the bar, stood with two people Augustus partially recognized. One was dressed in a long purple cloak and talking fervently to Bryce with floaty hand movements but such dramatic expressions that Augustus assumed he must have been a theater kid at some point in his life (or, more accurately, he wanted to be a theater kid but could only be a stage hand. He had that energy.) The other one was Bryce's friend, Jeremy, who Brianna had explained briefly lived in her old house for free when Bryce also did despite Brianna wanting Jeremy to pay rent. Bryce had kept insisting he would get Jeremy to pay, but never followed up, convincing Brianna that Jeremy just needed "a little more time" to get back on his feet—which went on indefinitely until Brianna broke up with Bryce and kicked them both out.

Of course, then she started dating Bryce again, but she was apparently staying firm that he wasn't moving in with her again anytime soon. (Augustus really hoped that was true.)

Bryce and Augustus locked eyes across the backyard as Bryce grabbed his drink from the bar. Even from the distance, the disdain was palpable. Though Bryce always had an air of disinterest and boredom about him, Augustus had found how to read between those lines. Any look Bryce gave Augustus had that tinge of disgust lingering in it. But, to be fair, Bryce only learned emotions from mirroring people, and Augustus didn't hide his well.

There had been a few times when Augustus was hanging out with Brianna on his own and Bryce had shown up. None of those times had ended pleasantly between them, though Brianna had done what she could to mitigate the reactions from getting too volatile. Still, it left a sour taste.

"Where's Brianna?" the Chosen asked, breaking Augustus out of his staring contest.

"Hm?" Augustus asked, glancing over to him before registering what was asked and looking around the backyard. Eventually, he spotted her with that TikTok Eboy she talked about sometimes recording dances with him in front of the most picturesque part of her yard that had all the colorful lights going over it. "She's over there dancing with that Dameron kid."

"Mm," the Chosen nodded, "right."

Augustus looked at him. "Do you...know any influencers names? At all?"

He scoffed. "I- yeah. I can...I can name some."

"Name me any," Augustus replied.

The Chosen took a deep breath. "Keanu Reeves."

"Not an influencer."

"He influences me everyday."

"That's not what that means."

"It's definitionally what it means."

"You know that's not what the word means now and what I mean when I say 'influencer.'"

"Well maybe my definition is different from yours."

"That's not—"

"It's just as I said," a sudden voice said, cutting them off, "their energy is atrocious—simply incongruous to this party."

Augustus and the Chosen turned to the voice, seeing the unfortunate reality of what they were faced with. Bryce stood in front of them, flanked by Jeremy and the figure in the purple cloak who had been with them at the bar.

"Yeah, and they're vibes suck, dude," Jeremy told Bryce, who simply nodded.

"That's what I said," the man in the cloak replied.

"Oh, right, cool," Jeremy nodded.

Bryce held up a hand, looking over Augustus and the Chosen lazily as Augustus scowled back, though Augustus could sense the Chosen go tense besides him. (For all that training he went through, he was still never trained for social combat. No matter, Augustus could handle it.)

"So," Bryce started, "you two are here."

"Yes, we are," Augustus replied, clasping his hands together in front of him and matching the casual energy of Bryce's stance. Bryce couldn't intimidate him; he wouldn't let him.

"What makes you think you can be?" Bryce asked.

"Brianna invited us," Augustus replied.

"Well, like, Isosceles says you shouldn't be," he said, pointing to the man in the cloak besides him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was his party—I thought it was Brianna's."

"I am her Vibe Consultant," Isosceles snapped, "I make sure all of her parties are perfect . I ensure all the spirits and energies are immaculate before, during, and after to keep the sanctity of the party space pure."

Oh, right , Augustus thought to himself, you're that guy. The charlatan from her Instagram. No wonder you looked familiar.

"Hm, right, and how do you do that?" Augustus asked.

"I consult with the Earth and soul of the home to know who is allowed in and who shouldn't be," Isosceles replied.

"Mm-hm," Augustus replied, "and so you take account of everyone who walks in?"

He scoffed. "Of course, I know all of it—"

"Including the people who weren't invited?"

"The spirits sent them this way—"

"Just like the smell of money sent you here?"

Isosceles gasped, hand clutching his chest. "What are you implying?"

"What?" Augustus inquired. "You can't sense it?"

"I never—!"

"Never did anything useful, yeah," he interrupted. Isosceles went red in the face.

Augustus took a brief moment to glance towards Brianna. She finally had stopped recording with Dameron, two still laughing with each other, but she thankfully noticed the fact that Bryce and the others had congregated to confront him and the Chosen. A quick flash of panic crossed her face as she excused herself from Dameron and started for them, until she was intercepted by Madison LaMace who clearly wanted to chat.

Shoot. He'd have to keep arguing on his own until she could get there (which at least that was something he proved he was good at that night.)

"Look, August, dude—" Bryce started.

"Augustus," Augustus corrected.

"Whatever," Bryce continued, making Augustus roll his eyes, "I mean, you can clearly see that Isosceles has a point—you've got bad vibes, dude."

"What, because I point out that you've hired a snake oil salesman?" he asked.

"I don't sell snakes anymore," Isosceles snapped.

"I don't care," Augustus replied.

"No," Bryce cut in, "you just, like, bring people down."

"Yeah, I was there listening to your whole argument battle," Jeremy added, "it was...sad."

Augustus frowned and crossed his arms, trying to keep the sting he felt from showing.

"Why do you gotta be so passionate about things that don't matter like that? It's not that important," Jeremy continued.

"There's nothing wrong with being passionate about something," the Chosen said. Bryce and the other two glanced to him, blinking in surprise.

"Goodness—you were so quiet I forgot you were even there," Isosceles scoffed.

"Yeah, yeah, passionate," Bryce repeated with a nod, then pointed to the Chosen, "so like, when you say passionate, does that make you think of my girlfriend? Because, like, clearly you like her."

"I- I don't—" the Chosen started, but shut his mouth and crossed his own arms tighter, face going flush in frustration.

"I mean he'd be a better choice than you," Augustus replied for him. Again, quickly, he glanced over to check on Brianna. She had slipped away from Madison and was hurrying with an even more determined fervor for them in her stride and face, this time chugging her drink and crushing the cup before chucking it to the side.

"You guys realize she only keeps you around as her pathetic simps to make her feel good, right?" Bryce asked. "Like, what do you even contribute as friends to her? You've got no clout, no followers, nothing to flex or brag on—what are you bringing?"

" Bryce! " Brianna shouted, cutting off any chance for Augustus to get in a retort. Everyone jumped at the sound of her voice as she stormed into the fray of the argument, the sound carrying across the backyard and the cacophony of the party hiccuping as people's heads turned to the fight. In that moment, Augustus became keenly aware of people starting to record it. Great.

Bryce, face still that blanket boredom, started: "Brianna—"

"What are you doing?!" she demanded.

"Uh...you know," he said, "trying to set the party vibes right."

She stared at him incredulously. "What?"

"Like, Isosceles told me the vibes were off and I was trying to fix it," he replied.

"The vibes are fine! Everything was fine! People were having a good time!"

"Brianna, please," Isosceles began, "I told you earlier that something was going to go wrong tonight—"

"I'm sorry, Isosceles, but if something's gonna go wrong, I think it's because of you guys!" she told him.

" Or it's because of these incels you keep hanging out with," Bryce replied.

As soon as the words left his lips, Brianna froze in place, then her head slowly turned to him. She had already positioned herself between him and Augustus & the Chosen, but now she was fully faced in such a way it was clear it was her vs. Bryce.  The slow turn felt dangerous, like a guard dog finally sensing where the intruder was hiding.

"' Incel?! '" she repeated. "You wanna call them incels when, from what I know, that word means 'involuntarily celibate', which—" she pointed back to the Chosen, "—he's voluntary —" and then pointed back to Augustus, "—and he has a girlfriend! That doesn't sound involuntary to me!"

She started towards Bryce who, alongside both Isosceles and Jeremy, took nervous steps back.

" However ," she continued, "I can guarantee that there's someone here who's gonna be an incel tonight and I'm gonna make sure of that. And that person is gonna be you , because you , Bryce, are not gonna get any of this—" she motioned to herself, "—and you're sure not gonna get anyone else here tonight, either, because you are not welcome at this party, you are not welcome in this house, and you're never welcomed on this property ever again because we are done . I am forever done with you and I'm gonna make sure no one here ever sleeps with you, either!"

"Babe, wait, what are you saying?" Bryce pleaded, hands up.

"Well, babe —" Brianna snapped, "—take a guess! "

And with that, she planted her foot square in his chest and launched him straight back into the pool. He flew back in with a splash, neither Isosceles nor Jeremy able to catch him in time. The portion of the party paying attention cheered for Brianna, plenty more no doubt preparing to upload what they filmed of it.

Brianna herself spun back around to the Chosen and Augustus with a satisfied smile and confidence in her stance, ignoring Jeremy and Isosceles trying to help fish Bryce from the pool. She stepped over to the two of them and hooked her arms in theirs, looking between them.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"Uh—" the Chosen started.

"I guess?" Augustus replied, still struggling to process the last few minutes.

"Great!" she said, dragging them off with her away from the mess. Augustus and the Chosen had no choice but to let her.

They didn't realize she was taking them away to the dancefloor, though they were quickly able to slip away from her in the crowd once she got distracted by the people who were so stoked by her antics that she got too caught up in dancing to recognize they weren't with her. They, instead, got away to the sidelines of it, letting Brianna bask in the thrill of being newly, viciously single and hyped up about it.

Augustus and the Chosen, meanwhile, tried to make sense of what happened as they stepped back from the dancing horde.

"What...?" Augustus began.

"Yeah..." the Chosen replied.

"Did—" Augusutus's words trailed off as his brow furrowed, struggling to put his thoughts together, "—did you ever expect there'd be a girl like Brianna defending us like that?"

The Chosen took a deep breath and crossed his arms, gazing off across the backyard. "Not ever again."

Augustus's head snapped over to the Chosen, but the Chosen's gaze didn't shift. Again? 

He so desperately wanted to ask, yet, he knew the Chosen wasn't going to answer. If he wanted to say, he would've said it. But he was doing that cryptic thing again which meant Augustus wasn't going to get anything out of him. Great.

Augustus sighed and crossed his own arms, watching Brianna enjoying herself with the rest of the partiers as the DJ played Megan Thee Stallion for her.

This was not where he expected his life to be, and he did not know what to make of it.

***

Brianna ended up getting super drunk. And the Chosen and Augustus quickly clocked a variety of people who were eyeing her when they also realized it.

In order to mitigate any issues, they managed to convince her to let them take her back to her room to sleep it off for a bit. Convincing her was, surprisingly, not the hard part—getting her to the room without hitting the ground was.

"Okay just— just a couple more steps, Brianna," Augustus said, guiding her carefully down the hallway that he was pretty sure was the correct one based on her slurred directions. She had one arm wrapped around Augustus's neck and the other around the Chosen's, hugging them both to her tight which did not help with directing her up the stairs that were flocked with people that did not move out of the way, nor did it help in leading her down the hall either.

"You guys are so nice...to...walk with me..." she said as she stumbled over her own heels and tugged them around with her as she went this way and that before they could right her again.

"It would have been much easier if you let me actually just carry you up here," the Chosen replied.

"No, no, no," Brianna said and waved a hand limply around, letting Augustus go as he pulled the key she had given him earlier from his pocket, trying to get it in the door to unlock it, "I'm not that drunk. I can walk."

"Not really," Augustus replied.

"I'm fine ," she said. She wrapped both arms around the Chosen and leaned fully into him, head on top of his, showing just how much taller she was than him in her heels. The Chosen kept one hand against her back to keep her steady.

The door clicked and Augustus pushed it open, waving his hand into it with a bow.

" Entrez-vous ," he said.

"And enter you, too," Brianna replied, doing her best to curtsey, though one leg slipping out from under her and both the Chosen and Augustus lunging to catch her and pull her back to her feet.

They guided her inside and, once in, Brianna kicked off her heels and fell onto her bed. She curled up in a ball in the center of it, pulling the edges of the red comforter up around her, too out of it to consciously get herself properly under it. Within moments, she was quietly snoring.

Augustus and the Chosen stood in the doorway watching her, listening both to her and the party within the house down the hall behind them.

"Are we going back out there?" the Chosen asked.

"Please no," Augustus replied, "I need a break."

"If you didn't say it, I was going to," he said.

The two stepped into the room, Augustus shutting the door behind them and locking it to keep anyone else from bothering Brianna while she slept, and then they took guard sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed. Neither said a word to each other as they sat in the semi darkness of the room, the only light being that from the backyard flowing in from the huge windows overlooking it, and the only noise being from Brianna's breathing or the muffled music thumping through that same glass. Augustus was frankly grateful for it. For all the arguing he had been doing that night, this felt like the first moment he could properly think.

Of course, when he did have time to think, he didn't always know if he wanted to. There was a reason he usually had on a show or videogame at his apartment, but now he didn't have a choice because the choice he made was for the silence (or as close as he could get to it.)

He didn't want to think of the arguing as sad. Yet when Jeremy said that, he couldn't help but feel like he had a point. He was just so used to doing it; it was instinct for him. It was easy, and in a way, it was his strength.

But he knew that the whole bet that Mr. Monster pulled that night was mocking him. They weren't laughing because they were having fun, they were laughing because it was stupid for someone to be able to keep arguing like that, to never back down. It was stupid to be that passionate about things that didn't matter, because, truly, most of those things people argued about didn't matter (aside from the people who did try to argue points that were real issues—those were the most annoying ones and the ones that made the arguments not fun, though that's neither here nor there.) 

And it didn't help that, of course, no one won and when he asked Mr. Monster about the money, Mr. Monster pulled the loophole that it was only being offered to the people who went up against Augustus, so it was all just a charade since he knew no one would win. The whole thing was embarrassing and was made to make him look stupid.

Of course, that wasn't hard. He did that to himself by doing it at all. That's just how he was.

Then there was the whole argument against Bryce itself and how that ended. That one really made him feel hollow. Sure, he was making good points against Bryce for a lot of it—Bryce had never had real opinions of his own, just ones he heard and regurgitated—but then there was that final point Bryce made. That one was real.

What did Augustus contribute as a friend? To Brianna or the Chosen? What was Augustus as a friend?

Deep down he knew that, if Brianna hadn't stepped in when she did, that would've been the point someone would've won an argument against him that night.

"How long do you think everyone's going to be here tonight?" the Chosen asked, breaking Augustus from his thoughts. Augustus glanced over and out the window like the Chosen was also doing, the both of them staring out to the backyard where the party still lingered on.

"Probably until the neighbors complain to the police," Augustus replied.

***

Brianna stayed deep asleep, with both the Chosen and Augustus checking on her periodically to make sure she was still alive. She was, thankfully, just very much passed out and cozy in her bed.

Well into the early hours of the morning, the party had died down, the guests all filing out and noise simmering to nothing. The Chosen and Augustus were used to being up that late from gaming, though, so hadn't thought twice about filing out of Brianna's bedroom at four in the morning to start picking up the trash scattered around her house and yard. A few people were passed out on the lounge chairs alongside the pool and on the huge sectional in her living room. The Chosen had taken charge of the yard, so Augustus took the living room, doing his best to keep quiet around the sleepers.

As he grabbed the cans and cups and stuffed them into the trashbag, one of the guests on the couch stirred. Augustus froze, hoping that maybe the kid would go back to sleep (because he did look like a kid, he must have been a high schooler), but instead he turned and wiped the sleep from his eyes, blinking as he spotted Augustus.

"Hey," he said to Augustus. As soon as he heard that voice, he put two and two together with his appearance and recognized the 'kid' as Dam Dameron. Of course it was (Brianna had told him that Dameron had fallen asleep plenty of times at her house after parties to make it seem like he had partied harder than he had to show off to his pushy dad, and Brianna was happy to help out if it meant Dameron stayed out of trouble.)

Augustus hesitated. "Hi."

"You're..." Dameron started, pointing weakly at Augustus, "....you're that guy we were having those argument bets with, right?"

Augustus frowned. "Yeah. That's me."

Dameron smiled. "Yeah...yeah! That was, like, super fun dude."

Augustus watched him for a moment. There was such sincerity in his voice but...maybe he was just imagining it. Dameron did just wake up.

But...maybe that did mean it was real. No one could be that good of an actor just waking up, especially not just some internet celebrity.

"Thanks," Augustus replied, then eyed him, "you...we argued about if the Spinosaurus in the third Jurassic Park movie could've actually killed the T-Rex or not, right?"

Dameron let out a small gasped and hugged the pillow he had been laying on top of. "Dude—that's what it was! I was, like...so anxious about the whole thing I completely forgot what it was we argued about but...yeah...no, that's totally what it was. That's awesome."

"I mean," Augustus shrugged, "you made some good points—but ultimately the Spinosaurus presented to us in the movie, because it's wildly inaccurate, could very much kill a T-Rex. In real life, though, the T-Rex would win against a scientifically correct Spinosaurus."

"No, like...yeah, I get it," Dameron said with a nod, "I...I just couldn't think of anything else to argue about and...and I just rewatch the movies so it was on my mind."

Augustus nodded, eyeing the trash around the room and feeling awkward talking to Dameron.

"You're cool, though," Dameron said, digging his head back into the pillow, starting to fall back asleep.

Again, Augustus struggled to figure out if the sincerity was real.

"Thanks," was all he could say.

Dameron shut his eyes and Augustus hesitated for a few moments, then began cleaning up again.

Chapter Text

In a situation that had become oddly familiar, Brianna and Augustus were helping the Chosen untangle his Gordian Knot of wires and cables in his mom's garage with him. Brianna was sat in the middle of the bean bag and working on the blue wire (the easiest for her to follow in the mess, they had figured), and Augustus and the Chosen were on the edges of the bean bag working on gray and black cords, respectively (the Chosen's specifically was for a mouse he was trying to free from the mess. Likewise, it wasn't going to matter if he picked a light color wire or not—they all looked black with his sunglasses on.)

Brianna stopped tugging at her wires and picked her phone up from her knee and held it between them. "What about him?"

Augustus and the Chosen leaned over to check out her screen.

"Any guy whose first photo is him holding up a fish is not someone you wanna swipe right on," Augustus replied.

"He's also holding the fish further out from his body to make it seem bigger than it actually is," the Chosen added, "which could mean he would lie about the size of other things."

Augustus eyed him curiously. "Like what, Chosen?"

"Height," the Chosen replied, going back to working on the wires without a second thought to the matter.

"Ah, of course," Augustus said and nodded. 

"I don't care if a guy's short," Brianna mused, "I just, like, want 'em to be honest with me."

"So not him," Augustus said and swiped left on the screen for her.

"He was cute though," she said.

"You're looking for more than cute this time," Augustus reminded.

That had also become a common occurrence for the hangouts—vetting Brianna's Tinder dates with her. It turned out that pairing up Augustus's judgmental nature and the Chosen's observational skills was well suited for making sure Brianna didn't just swipe right on every hot person she saw.

"What about her?" Brianna asked, presenting the next picture.

The two barely took a glance at it before, in unison, reporting: "No."

Brianna gasped. "Why?"

"That's not her dog," the Chosen replied.

"What?! How can you tell?" she asked and studied the screen closer.

"She has too tight a grip on the leash despite her casual stance like she's afraid it's going to run off which demonstrates her unfamiliarity with the animal," he replied.

"Plus, if it was hers, the photo would be with them together in her home or the park, not obviously staged on the street like that," Augustus added.

Brianna sat for a moment with her mouth agape before swiping left. "You guys are so good at this."

"Thank you," Augustus said.

"It all comes down to years of studying people from afar," the Chosen said.

"Because you were too scared to talk to them?" Brianna asked, focusing on the wires again for a bit.

"I- no," the Chosen stammered, "it was for training."

"Gotta figure out when's the best time to enter a Jack-in-the-Box and approach the right cashier so you have the smoothest transaction in the quickest time possible," Augustus added.

"Exactly," the Chosen said.

"Exactly," Augustus repeated.

If anyone else said it, the Chosen would've felt like he was being mocked. But that was how they got through high school. Half the people they went to school with worked at the fast food restaurants around where they lived, so they had to learned the right ways to deal with them lest they risk their orders, at best, being wrong, or at worst...well...to put it lightly—not being worth eating.

"What about this guy?" Brianna asked with a new prospect on her phone. The Chosen and Augustus stared at the man on her screen, both quiet for a time.

"I think we went to high school with him," Augustus finally said.

Brianna lit up. "Were you guys friends—?"

" No ," they interrupted in unison.

Brianna, with no hesitation, swiped left.

She set her phone aside again, and the trio went back to work on the wires for a time before Brianna excused herself to answer a call from her manager. The Chosen and Augustus were left alone in the garage after Brianna hurried off, at first working away in quiet aside from the hum of the Chosen's PC in the corner.

"So," Augustus started, leaning back into the bean bag as he worked now that Brianna was gone, "I've got a question."

"The questions that you have to announce never bode well," the Chosen replied.

"I've got very interesting questions, thank you," Augustus scoffed, then added: "Also it was just really quiet and it felt weird just asking it outright."

"Fair enough," the Chosen said, "what's your question?"

"I know there's all sorts of Chosens in different universes, so do you think I could be a Chosen? Like with—"

"No."

Augustus stopped pulling at the wires and looked to the Chosen, brow furrowed as he watched him. The Chosen didn't turn away from his work on the wire tangle.

"No, I mean with training, obviously—" Augustus continued.

"Still no," the Chosen replied.

"What-? Why?" he asked.

"You don't have the type of dedication for it."

"Dedication? I don't have the dedication, are you serious?!" Augustus dropped the wires and sat up, finally catching the Chosen's attention. "You've seen all the reviews I do—I keep up with those! There's dedication in that!"

"It's different."

"You-" Augustus stammered and shook his head, "-you'll call Barbie —a fictional character—a Chosen, but a person you know in real life who could work towards it and who you are literally working with right now to sift through people using real skill can't be?"

"Like I said—it's different."

"Okay, fine—then name me someone in real life who could be!"

The Chosen shrugged. "Brianna."

Augustus stared at him, wide-eyed. " What?! "

"Brianna could be a Chosen."

"How? How could Brianna be a Chosen and I can't? Isn't one of your core tenets no sex and NoFap? Brianna's not gonna follow that! We're literally helping her through Tinder! I could resist all that, but she sure can't!"

The Chosen crossed his arms. "I'll put it in simpler terms: Brianna's Daphne, you're Velma. Daphne could be a Chosen, but Velma couldn't."

Augustus's brow furrowed deeper again before he threw his arms out. "Daphne never solved a mystery! How is that Chosen?!"

"This focus on all the wrong aspects is exactly why you couldn't be a Chosen," the Chosen pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, "you'll never get it."

"No, you know what? I do get it," Augustus said and pointed to him, "you're in love with her. That's what it is."

The Chosen's head snapped up to him. "What-? No—"

"No, that's exactly what it is. That's why she can be a Chosen despite the fact she doesn't fit any of the boxes for it and it's why you kept making all those concessions for her in our D&D game!"

"It was her first time playing!"

"It's because you like her!"

The door to the garage opened again and Brianna stepped back in.

"Hi! I'm back," she sang with a smile, though it wavered when their heads snapped over to her. She glanced between them, feeling the tension in the air. "Did I...miss something?"

The Chosen threw the wires off his lap and stood up. "No."

"I..." she started, shuffling away from the door as he started for it, "...really?"

"Yeah," he replied, voice low, "I'm getting a soda."

Brianna watched him leave before turning back to Augustus who was still glaring after him. She turned back to where the Chosen had disappeared off to in the house.

"Can you bring me back a water, too?" she called after him.

***

The Chosen and Augustus didn't speak too much to each other the rest of the night which, if Brianna noticed, she didn't make it obvious. She was always good at talking enough for the three of them.

She particularly wanted to talk about how well the videos her and all her friends had made about her party were doing (it's what her manager had called about.) The virality of them was no doubt bolstered by the stunt she pulled with kicking Bryce into the pool. It was clear Augustus was holding back on the comments he wanted to make about it, while the Chosen still felt conflicted about the whole matter. He had never liked Bryce, but from experience, public humiliation was something he never wished upon anyone. 

Then again, Bryce humiliated himself on the daily, so he surely must have had thicker skin to brush it off with. That brand of influencers seemed immune to shame.

Brianna got caught up on parties, though, because while she found out Augustus had been to some (post his friendship with the Chosen, and, admittedly much smaller ones than Brianna's since it was it just with a few anime friends or ones he met at conventions,) the Chosen had never been to one. At least, not one she'd consider a party. The closest was in high school, and that was his birthday where it was him, Augustus, and a couple other kids they played Magic with sometimes.

"So you've never had a real party?" Brianna asked him. The Chosen shrugged. Brianna watched him, mouth agape, then she shut it with a satisfied smirk and curious gleam in her eye. The Chosen glanced over to her.

"What?" he asked her.

"I'll take care of that," she replied and went back to focusing on the wires they were all still working on.

The Chosen blinked. "Take care of what?"

"Don't worry about it. I got it."

He should have put the pieces together faster, but he was still too frazzled by the argument with Augustus to really be focused at the time. He figured it out later, though, when Brianna picked him up the next weekend to take him to her house: because she was throwing his party.

"So I texted Regina and she's texting your other 'Joke' friends—which is what she called them and at first I thought she was making fun of you and I was getting ready to fight her and uninvite her, and then she explained what she meant and I got it," she explained as she drove, "and Augustus is already at my place setting stuff up! It's gonna be so fun!"

The Chosen pursed his lips and nodded.

"We're gonna have the game systems all set up and we've got like, sodas and snacks and stuff 'cause you don't drink so that's all cool. Also we've got music but it's not gonna be, like, as loud as my party was because you're not gonna have to hear it over ten thousand people," she laughed.

"Yeah," he replied.

Brianna glanced over to him with a smile. "Aren't you excited?"

The Chosen felt a pressure in his chest as he sat with the question. He hadn't really let these two sides interact all that much. Brianna had met all the Jokes at this point, sure, but...Augustus was what worried him, especially after their fight. This was what had driven the wedge between them in the first place—Augustus could still very well blame all these people for being exactly why they stopped being friends so long ago. He'd seen that tension building up when it was just him and Regina, what would it be like with all of them? And even if it wasn't their faults for what happened (that had been the Chosen's choice alone to ditch Augustus like he did), there were so many years of resentment that had built up and they were only starting to break through it just the two of them. What hope was there between Augustus and the three he had never even spoken to?

"I'm excited," he lied.

"Yay! So am I!" she cheered, drumming her hands on the steering wheel before pulling into her driveway.

The Chosen followed Brianna as she hurried into her house, her every step bouncing with excitement. Inside, Augustus was sat in front of the TV, playing around with the settings of his Switch he hooked up. He swung his head back over his shoulder towards them.

"What game are you thinking for everyone, Brianna?" he asked.

"Ooh! Mario Party!" she said and clapped her hands.

"Mario Party? Do you want us all to hate each other by the end of the night?" Augustus asked, then paused, considered it, and turned back to the screen to select the game. "Let's do Mario Party."

The pit in the Chosen's chest grew. Brianna threw her fists up and cheered besides him.

"Oh, we're having a good time already, aren't we?" a voice asked from behind them. The trio glanced back to the foyer Regina strolled out of, plucking off her sunglasses and sliding them onto her head where they pulled her long blonde hair back from her face, exposing her subtle smile.

It never failed: even if there was a worry festering in him, Regina's presence could always give him the slightest bit of confidence to keep it under control. Something about the casual authority in the way she carried herself carried over to him. Maybe that's why Mr. Grub had paired them up way back when for training; he had recognized how she could ground him like that.

"Hi, Regina!" Brianna greeted, waving with both hands. Regina waved back as she sidled up to the Chosen.

"Hey, girl," she replied, "good to see you again."

"Abso- lutely ," Brianna said, "you've been an amazing nail artist and me and all of my friends love you."

She made a heart with her hands, showing off the latest set of nails that sported black and white checkerboard patterns interspersed with larger geometric black or red sections and rhinestone hearts at each tip. Regina smiled back at her before Augustus caught Brianna's attention to bug her about something, allowing the Chosen to talk to Regina.

"So you've still been working with her?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," Regina replied, "she's...honestly been doing wonders for my business? Not like, making it suddenly boom or anything—which I'm kind of grateful for since, you know, one person—but it's been doing a lot better than it had been which is great. She loves posting the new nails on her Instagram and tagging me in it and recommending me to her friends, so...yeah, honestly, it's great."

The Chosen nodded. "Good."

"Oh-! Oh!" Brianna suddenly chimed in, prompting Regina and the Chosen to glance over to her as she was laid over the back of the sectional besides Augustus, her legs kicking over the back like a kid. "I always meant to ask this—why is your business called...Leg- Lega-"

"Legoshi," Augustus teased.

"No," Brianna giggled and smacked his arm, making him laugh before she turned back to Regina, "Legacy?"

The Chosen spotted a slight flush hit Regina's cheeks.

"LegEsthi," Regina corrected.

"Yeah! Why's it called that?" she asked.

"Uh, you know—" Regina waved a hand, "—just came to me one day. Kind of picked it. I don't know."

"Oh! Okay," Brianna said with a smile, then laid back upside down with her head out of sight to keep talking to Augustus.

The Chosen watched Regina shut her eyes and take a deep breath before scratching her forehead and saying under her breath to him: "I hate it when people ask me that because it's such a stupid name and I regret picking it everyday."

"I think it's fine," the Chosen replied, his own subtle grin creeping on his face as he held up and pointed to his wrist where the friendship bracelet sat, "just say it's a joke."

She glared at him despite her growing smile. "Shut up. You're so stupid."

The doorbell chimed and Brianna's head snapped up and around the room, brow deeply furrowed as she looked around for the sound. Augustus watched her, equally confused by her reaction.

"What—?" he started.

"What was that?" she interrupted.

"Your doorbell ," he replied.

"For real?" she laughed and vaulted back over the couch.

"Have you never heard it?"

"Nobody ever uses it! They just come inside!"

She hurried past the Chosen and Regina to get to the door, leaving the three to the game. The Chosen took a seat on the sectional besides Augustus and Regina lounged on an oversized chaise lounge not far away, eyeing the room around them as the two thumbed through characters on the screen.

"Is all of her furniture huge?" she asked.

"Yeah," they both replied.

She eyed them. "Do I wanna know why?"

"No," they replied.

Regina nodded and turned to the screen with pursed lips, wondering just how much she really wanted to be sitting on the chair.

"We have more people!" Brianna announced as she ran back into the room with her hands in the air. Trailing behind her was Criss Darren and Final Girl, the latter of whom was zipped up in a black jacket despite it being mid September and sunny. While the Chosen was always used to her in black, the fact that she was wearing that, keeping her arms crossed tight and inwards like she did, and hanging so close to Criss Darren, all meant she was probably feeling a similar pit in her stomach that he was even though this wasn't her party.

"Hey, hey!" Criss Darren greeted with Final Girl giving a small wave besides him. Criss Darren continued: "Are we starting a game?"

"Getting ready to," the Chosen replied.

"Do you wanna play?" Brianna asked.

"Yeah—I love Mario Party," Criss Darren replied before turning to Regina and Final Girl, "as long as neither of you two wanted in."

"Go right ahead," Regina said.

"I'm fine," Final Girl said.

"Yay!" Brianna cheered, launching herself again over the back of the couch to sit directly between Augustus and the Chosen, the two narrowly dodging out of the way of her elbow and heels. She held her hand out to Augustus who shook his head as he handed her a controller. The Chosen handed Criss Darren one as he sat down besides him. Final Girl lingered besides the sectional for a moment before Regina scooted over on the chaise and patted the cushion besides her, Final Girl still hesitating for a moment before sitting on its edge, then slowly leaning back against the pillows.

As everyone debated on characters to pick (the Chosen had already grabbed Yoshi and everyone else was arguing over the princesses), he watched Final Girl. Her eyes were caught on the screen, but not in interest, instead he'd bet it was to keep from meeting anyone else's eyes. Even as Regina talked to her about the newest episode of Pharaoh High , she wouldn't break concentration, keeping attention on the TV and arms crossed tight.

If he needed any more of a reason to want the party to go well, he had it.

"Okay, okay!" Brianna's voice cut into his thoughts. "It's settled! I'm Peach, Augustus is Rosalina, Criss is Daisy."

"Deal," Augustus and Criss Darren replied.

"Great," Brianna said, "let's play!"

The Chosen took a deep breath and turned his attention to the screen. It was going to go fine. He just had to keep telling himself that, and the power of the thoughts alone could manifest into reality. If he believed hard enough, it could come true.

It could happen. It had to.

***

Surprisingly, they survived Mario Party, probably due to the mix of Brianna and Criss Darren feeding off each other's energy of goofing through it as they tried their best and Augustus winning which kept him happy.

Brianna, despite the Chosen's apprehensions (and despite what he expected with the chaos of her last party) was a good host. She kept the conversations up with Criss Darren and Regina, then could easily jump back to one with him and Augustus while they played Magic (which she called Magic: the Happening. She was getting closer.)

Final Girl, though, was still quiet.

A little ways in while everyone else was busy playing Overcooked, the Chosen found her hidden away outside in the backyard, leaning against a wall, looking at her phone in the shade. Even though he approached as quiet as they were all trained to move, Final Girl still picked her head up and turned when he came near, somehow having sensed him. The Hunter instincts in her still beat his stealth.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied.

There was a silence as he watched her and she shook her head, putting her phone back in her pocket before crossing her arms.

"I- I didn't think anybody could see me from inside if I stood here for a bit," she replied.

The Chosen nodded. Admittedly, it was a good spot for hiding at from the inside, at least at the angle she was at. The way the wall bent to the corner and how she nestled herself into it made it hard to see her unless you stood directly at the door and pressed your head against the glass.

"I saw you walk outside earlier when you thought no one noticed," the Chosen replied.

Final Girl pursed her lips and her cheeks turned red. "Oh."

"Why are you out here?"

She opened her mouth, then sighed and stared down at her feet.

"I'm..." she started, "...I'm not good with people. Like, new people. I know it's just two people and I've kind of met Brianna before and we went to school with Augustus but..." she hesitated, "...I don't know. It freaks me out, 'cause..."

The Chosen watched her. He didn't know how much she wanted him to say for her if she wanted him to say anything at all.

"I don't wanna mess anything up for you guys because I know you and Augustus just started being friends again and I know we're all the sore subject of why that is and I don't want to be the reason that stops being a thing and goes bad and it just all gets worse all over again because that would suck and I don't want to be a problem," Final Girl spluttered. 

Despite the confession, he knew it wasn't the full reason why she was anxious, but it wasn't his place to bring it up. 

"You're not a problem," he said.

"I don't want to be," she replied.

"You won't be. You never were."

Final Girl took a deep breath.

"I just don't want to do something stupid," she said.

The Chosen pointed back towards the open glass doors leading to the living room where the sounds of animated shouting rang out. "They're yelling at each other about throwing potatoes into a river. I think you'll be okay."

Final Girl let out a quiet laugh, then stood herself up from the wall and rolled her shoulders back.

"You'll tell me if I'm being dumb?" she asked him.

In all the years he knew her, back during training and the last few months they had reconnected, he never once thought she was dumb.

"Yes," he promised.

She nodded, and the two headed back inside.

***

Eventually, evening came around and Brianna had dragged everyone out to hang around her backyard fire pit. Augustus had given in and decided to play civilly with everyone for the Chosen's sake even though there were plenty of times he wanted to go into his usual schtick of arguing for the sake of arguing. The rest of the Chosen's friends were being cordial with him (they were having a better time talking to Brianna, of course, but Brianna would talk anyone's ear off given the opportunity.) At the very least, Augustus could take solace in the fact that all their training days he got abandoned for hadn't gotten brought up.

But good things couldn't last.

"You guys are just so cool," Brianna mused as they all lounged about on the bamboo sofas under the dimming sunset sky, "I wish I could've been friends with you all in high school."

Augustus frowned, and he spotted the Chosen tense up besides him. Good, he should be uncomfortable.

Even the rest of 'the Jokes' (as they kept calling themselves) exchanged glances with each other around the firepit, an awkwardness floating between them.

"It wasn't...really..." Final Girl mumbled, picking at the rim of her Solo cup.

"We weren't friends in high school," Regina finished for her.

Brianna cocked her head. "I thought...?"

Criss Darren sighed. "Regina and I graduated about a month after the mansion incident, the Chosen was a Junior so was going into his final year, and Final Girl was a Sophomore."

"Wow, so you guys, like, stopped seeing each other so fast," Brianna said.

"I mean," Regina started, "we never really saw each other much in the first place aside from me and Criss being in the same grade since we were kids and then our shared elective class that Mr. Grub ended up being our sub for, but other than that we never crossed paths that much in school."

"Wait, so, I don't get it," Brianna continued, "wasn't the high school training your whole thing?"

"Training, yeah. High school, not so much," Criss Darren replied.

"Can we stop talking about high school?" Final Girl mumbled and crossed her arms tight across her chest. Augustus watched her as she stared into her cup. Maybe there was one of them he could be on the same page with.

"So how did the training work?" Brianna asked.

Regina twisted her mouth. "Well—"

"'Get in the van!'" Final Girl said, voice mimicking Mr. Grub's. (Maybe they weren't on the same page.)

"'We're going to a cave!'" Criss Darren added, also matching her mimicry and smiling.

Final Girl continued: "'If you die, it means you didn't listen to me—'"

"'So listen up!'" all the Jokes finished in unison, including the Chosen. Augustus shot him a look, but the Chosen didn't notice it—and he felt that was on purpose.

"Oh my gosh , that's ingrained," Regina laughed.

"He said it every time we went to a cave," Final Girl said.

"And we went to so many caves," Criss Darren said, "and mountains."

"If we weren't hiking somewhere, we 'weren't trying,'" Regina mocked.

"And what was the excuse for us fighting each other?" Final Girl asked.

"Find each other's weak points so you could work on them," Regina replied.

"Oh, ' you ,'" Final Girl rolled her eyes with a smile, "like you didn't have any."

Regina looked to the Chosen. "Did I?"

Augustus slouched in his seat. Of course she was asking him out of all their group.

The Chosen took a deep breath and crossed his arms. "Back then was your peak era of training, so I don't recall many. I'd have to fight you again now to figure out what you're lacking if you wanted a proper assessment."

She quirked an eyebrow and grinned. "I didn't ask for now , so take note of that—and I can still go toe to toe with you. Never doubt that. I am your equal, that's why we were partners."

Brianna gasped and glanced between them. "'Partners?!'"

"Mr. Grub split us all into pairs for training. Regina and I were one duo, Criss Darren and Final Girl were the other. It was based on who would complement each other's strengths and weaknesses the best," the Chosen explained.

Really? Regina was the one who complemented his weakness? She worked with his strengths? Admittedly, there was only so much of her Augustus was aware of in high school, but he did recall enough to remember how cruel her cheerleader squad was—at least how cruel they were in tandem with the football players. That group was a terror to people like him and the Chosen to the point they learned to just stay quiet and get to class to keep out of their way. And now apparently she and the Chosen were the perfect fighting partners? This was the person that the Chosen replaced him with?

They were right for calling themselves jokes.

"That's so wild," Brianna said.

"We were insistent on getting trained," Criss Darren, "he'd find anyway to do it."

"Including setting up all those complicated puzzles in those super hard to reach places he'd take us," Final Girl said.

"He was committed," Regina said, then frowned, "until he wasn't."

"We're the ones that quit," Criss Darren said. She just shrugged.

Brianna looked to Augustus. "Did you ever have Mr. Grub as a teacher?"

"Not as much as they did," Augustus mumbled. Maybe if he went home, no one would notice.

"We didn't have him that much either, really," Criss Darren mused. Augustus didn't reply. He'd just argue if he did.

Brianna stood up from her seat. "I definitely want to hear more about all of this because I love hearing about it and I'm super interested in your guys's training and stuff, but also I wanna go get another drink so I'll be right back."

Brianna hopped over the corner of the fire pit and hurried back towards the house, leaving the Jokes and Augustus behind. The group sat in the evening quiet for a bit, the only sound the crackling of the fire and distant cars rolling over the houses and hills to them as they watched the flames and lingered over the thoughts everything had brought up.

Augustus felt humiliated for even being there. He didn't know these people—he felt like he barely knew the Chosen from hearing any of this. All of this was new and he was so unprepared for it and had no idea how to handle it, so he was left sitting there unable to process any of it and could only sulk through it like a child. It had been so off the table between them for so long to try and keep the peace, and now it was just coming out into the open and he couldn't say anything about it without screwing anything up between them.

He felt sick. He felt useless.

Final Girl leaned towards the Chosen, voice low, but still not low enough to keep anyone else from hearing. 

"Hey," she started, "obviously I can't ask her because she just went back inside, but you're friends with her so— uh—" she grimaced, then forced herself to ask her question: "—do you think she'd mind if I smoked?"

Before the Chosen could reply, Augustus did.

"She smokes weed all the time, I'm sure you're fine," Augustus said.

"No, like—" Final Girl stammered, cheeks turning red, "—I just meant a cigarette, nothing else."

Regina pretended to gasp. "A cigarette? Really?"

Final Girl glanced back to her. "What?"

"What would Mr. Grub say?" she asked with a smile. As she did, Augustus saw the slightest bit of tension melt from Final Girl. Apparently she was as wound up as Augustus was which was...odd. These were her friends—why was she anxious?

"Oh, I've got this one—" Criss Darren chimed in, "—'Smoking is only for devils and...'" he snapped his fingers, "...come on, how did that one go?"

The Chosen held up a finger to complete it: "'Smoking is only for devils and the Gentlemen.'"

Criss Darren clapped his hands. "That's it!"

"What in the world did he mean by that?" Regina asked.

"Who knows, he was always saying crazy stuff like that," Final Girl said.

"I know but—devils I get. Hell, fire, smoke—that makes sense. But 'the Gentlemen?' Who are the Gentlemen?"

"Who was anybody he talked about?" Criss Darren asked, "I swear, every day we were learning about new people or creatures I had never heard of but he said it with such confidence it sounded like he fought them personally. Which, you know—" he held up his phone to tug on the bracelet, "—not possible. He said so himself!"

"He just said everything with so much intensity that you had to believe him," Final Girl replied.

"Yeah, if he told us we were going to all those caves because of 'the Gentlemen,' I'd have believed him," Regina said.

Final Girl stared at the fire for a moment, then furrowed her brow. "Why were we going to those caves?"

"Training," Criss Darren replied and gave her a look, " girl , come on..."

"No, no, I get that," she said, "but...the stuff we found in the caves. That...that was weird, right?"

"He put them there for training, duh," Regina replied.

"Yeah?" Final Girl looked at them. "And his reactions to finding them? That seemed like a guy who put them there on purpose?"

"Final Girl might have a point: those masks didn't belong there—they had to be placed," the Chosen argued.

"Mr. Grub obviously placed them," Criss Darren said.

"And who said he placed them?" Final Girl said.

"Who else would? " Regina questioned.

Augustus got up from his seat and headed back inside. He didn't want to hear anymore. He couldn't handle any more of the crypticness. He couldn't handle being excluded from a conversation about the years he was already excluded from. There was only so much he could sit through quietly without exploding and telling people how he really felt, and he wasn't going to risk doing that and losing his friendship to these people all over again. He'd know which side the Chosen would pick—he proved it once.

When he walked into the kitchen, Brianna was finishing up making her drink and turned back around to smile at him.

"Hi, Augustus!" she greeted, beaming.

"Hi," he replied and grabbed the bag of Doritos sitting on the island amidst all the other snacks.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head. "They're talking about training again and it's—"

"They're talking about training?!" she interrupted. "I told them to wait!"

"I—"

"C'mon! I wanna go hear it!" she said and grabbed his arm as he rolled his eyes as she dragged him after her. He wanted to protest and pull away from her, but at that point in the night, he was too exhausted by everything to fight anything anymore. If he was going to start arguing, he was going to start arguing. He had tried removing himself from the situation—whatever happened happened.

However, when they returned to the firepit, he found he would not be the one arguing.

"—do you hear yourself right now?" Regina snapped at Final Girl as they approached, making Brianna slow her step and Augustus in turn. All four of the Jokes were stood up from their seats, nearly each as red in the face as the fire was. "The whole thing we've learned and come to terms with is that there is no purpose! There are no monsters!"

"Then what are the Gentlemen?!" Final Girl shouted back.

"It's one of his stupid sayings!" Regina said. "He had hundreds of them!"

"If it was just one of his sayings, why were we getting all those artifacts from those caves?!"

"That was training! " Criss Darren said. "He put them there and we all went in there to go get them because we all insisted he trained us because we couldn't handle that we weren't special!"

"You're telling me he put all of them there?" Final Girl argued.

"Yes!" Criss Darren said.

Final Girl turned to the Chosen. "The cave where we found that first freaky mask he had us get—what was that wild thing we had to do? Do you remember?"

"We- uh..." the Chosen stammered, "...we had to blow up one of the walls."

"Oh! Right!" Her head snapped back over to Regina and Criss Darren. "We had to blow up one of the walls! How in the world would he have set that up for us?"

"I don't know!" Regina replied. "Maybe there was another entrance to the section the mask was in—we were just following his instructions the whole time so he was probably keeping us from knowing the other ways in."

"No, that room was perfectly sealed. It's why he made sure to bring oxygen in case something went wrong and we were really stuck in a survival situation," the Chosen said.

"Do you see my point?!" Final Girl said.

"Yes! But I don't know what you want me to do about it!" Regina said.

"Believe me when I say there's something weird! That I think there's something about these 'Gentlemen' he brought up that we don't know about and we should look into!" Final Girl said.

"Why do you want there to be monsters?" Regina asked. "I thought we were all over the fact that there's not!"

"I'm just scared that he's wrong and there might be!" she said.

"And what do we do if there is?" Criss Darren questioned.

"We go get Mr. Grub and we fix it," Final Girl replied.

Regina threw up her hands. "No, absolutely not—we're not going to talk to him. We're not going to go find him. We're not going to go do anything for or with Mr. Grub because he abandoned us!"

Criss Darren's head snapped over to her and he shot her a look. "Abandoned us? Girl, we gave up on training and then he got a job somewhere else—that's not abandoning!"

"Whatever, same difference, we're not gonna go find him," Regina began to storm away from the group, before she turned back on her heel to add: "accept that there's nothing to this universe except us being a punchline. He set us up for failure and then didn't have the spine to tell us no when we pushed to be trained, now you're all suffering these delusions that there might be something out there. I'm not dealing with it, though."

And with that, Regina left. In her wake, the rest lingered in the steely silence before Criss Darren eventually turned to Final Girl.

"Let's go," he mumbled.

"I think we should—" Final Girl started.

"No," he cut off, already heading to leave like Regina before him, "let's go ."

Final Girl watched him start to go, then gave one last look to the Chosen. The Chosen watched her for a moment before giving her a nod. She took a deep breath and followed after Criss Darren. Brianna stared after them as they walked away, while Augustus looked to the Chosen, who was staring off to the distance.

Chapter Text

The drive back from the party was quiet—Criss Darren didn't even turn on any music (and he always did when he drove, so Final Girl knew she messed up.) The air was so tense that she swore either it was going to break from him finally speaking or her going out the window just to get away from it.

Neither happened. They ended up back at their apartment without a word. Criss Darren didn't even wait for her to get out of the car before he started heading back up to it. She hung back for a minute to let herself breathe—she hadn't realized how shallowly she had kept it to keep from being too loud in the deafening silence of the drive until he was gone.

She reached over and locked the doors of the car, still not ready to get out just yet, then pulled out her phone. With shaky fingers, she dialed her dad. Bent over in the seat with her arm tight to her stomach, she held the ringing phone to her ear and waited.

"Hey, kiddo," he said.

"Hi, dad," she replied, unable to hide the anxiety in her voice.

"What's wrong?"

"Just tell me about your day." She swallowed back the burning tears. "Just talk to me. Please."

It was another fifteen minutes before she got to the apartment herself. Criss Darren was taking a shower, so Final Girl could sneak through to her bedroom without worry of crossing his path until tomorrow. She hurried across the living room and unlocked her door behind the red curtain she hung up over it, trying not to make eye contact with the "Beware!" and "Keep Out!" signs hung up on the door that usually made her feel more herself and now just made her feel stupid. The door clicked and she slipped through into the darkness beyond, shutting it quick but quiet to relock again before even thinking of turning on the light. She wanted a moment to sit in the blackness, to pretend she was invisible to Criss Darren, herself, and maybe the rest of the world.

They were supposed to be jokes. They were the Jokes. She got so serious about nothing and now everyone hated her. She was so stupid.

Her hand snuck over to the wall and flipped the switch up, exposing the room for what it was—hers.

She hadn't been allowed to paint the walls since it was a rental, so she hung cheap black sheets over each of them instead. Pinned to them were art pieces either she made or bought from artists at the farmer's market Criss Darren would sometimes bring her along with him to. An electric candelabra her dad fixed up that she got for a dollar at a yard sale in high school sat on the low bookshelf under her window which was covered in blackout curtains. Her well-worn skateboard sat against the side of it with the scuffed helmet and elbow pads on the floor besides it. The shelves were full of vampire books and manga and movies and...something that made her feel even more embarrassed now with how the night had gone.

Final Girl walked over and sat on the edge of her bed, red sheets only half made from when she got up that afternoon, and she stared at her knife collection. She hadn't practiced with them in a while—she hadn't needed to. Monsters weren't real.

(Granted, she still always carried one with her. Monsters might not have been real, but people sure were.)

There were eight in the case total: two throwing knives, two switchblades, one butterfly, one pocket, and two stilettos. The pocketknife was from her dad and was the first one she ever got—it was the reason she even decided knives were what she wanted to learn to fight with when they started training (although Mr. Grub had quickly made it clear she'd do better with a different type of knife, which is why she ended up with so many.) The stilettos were from Regina, who insisted "a girl is never complete without a pair of stilettos."

Final Girl let out a brief laugh, though it made her chest ache and the tears well up again. She pulled her legs up onto her bed and wrapped her arms around them as she laid on her side and stared at the case.

She screwed it up. She screwed it all up. They had got to all be together again and she made them fight like the last time they had all been together like that. It was like the last day of training all because she missed the training days. Because she wanted them back. She couldn't leave well enough alone.

And that was just with her and the Jokes. She might have screwed it up big time for the Chosen and Augustus, too. Maybe she had destroyed two friend groups at once and now everything was in shambles because she was too selfish to let the past go like everyone else could.

Final Girl shoved her fingers down into her boot and tore out the throwing knife she had had hidden down in there, chucking it back towards the case with gritted teeth. The glass cracked.

***

On her days off, Final Girl always got up late. Noon was early, and she usually would have stayed in bed until one, but she didn't know how long Criss Darren was going to be out of the apartment. As soon as she heard the apartment door shut and after she laid for long enough she was sure he wasn't just taking the trash out, she started getting up.

There was only one place she liked to go when she was stressed out that wasn't her dad's—the library. Nobody was going to bother her there. She could hide out in one of the usual nooks in the back with her headphones in and locked deep into hundreds of years into the past, far away from whatever thing she was avoiding. It was time travel without the butterflies.

She dressed and grabbed her usual kit she took to the library—the backpack she could strap her skateboard to so she didn't have to lug it through the place when she had her arms full of books, the helmet and elbow pads because there was no way she was costing anyone medical bills after she watched how her dad struggled with the ones left behind by her mom's passing when she was 13, and, of course, her earbuds since she was not talking to anybody at the library unless she had to.

Minus avoiding Criss Darren, this would've been a normal day off for her.

She headed out to the kitchen, the last lingering scent of the breakfast Criss Darren had cooked still clinging to the air. Usually on her days off, he'd make extra for her and leave it in the fridge for whenever she got up, but she knew better. There was no way he'd have done the same when he was mad at her. It wouldn't be in there.

Instead, she reached into the cabinet besides the fridge and took out one of the off brand Pop Tarts she kept up there for when she was running late. It was the last one in the box, but she didn't care. She didn't want to feel the ache of seeing the empty fridge shelf while looking for something else.

She reached over her shoulder and slipped the foil packet into her backpack, zipping it back up with one hand as she pinned her skateboard to her side with her other elbow to twist the doorhandle open, exiting the apartment.

***

Usually Final Girl had an easier time finding a point in history to study at the library. There were plenty to choose from and a slew of countries to go to for them. She was never picky. Most of the time, she would wander through the nonfiction section until a title stood out to her and go from there. If that didn't work, she'd take an encyclopedia, open to a random page, point, and find a book on that topic's origin or history to start from.

Yet, nothing was catching her that day. The Gikuyu people were definitely a rabbit hole she could get sucked down into—on any other day. The influence of Spain on Filipino architecture was really interesting...tomorrow. The attempts to find a passage through the waters north of Canada were definitely something she wanted to learn about.

Maybe later.

Her mind just kept wandering. She wondered, at first, if it had to do with the music she had on (though her music had never been an issue before.) Still, she tried switching to something classical, wordless—but that didn't help. She recognized some of them on the random playlist she picked, even if not by name. Criss Darren would play them when he was cleaning or studying lines. It just made her start thinking about the argument again.

It was so, so dumb to bring any of it up. Of course none of it was real. Where would Mr. Grub have even gotten the masks? Where would they have been from? They hadn't looked like any of the masks of any cultures they would have been found near—and even the ones they did look like, what they depicted didn't even live there. It didn't make sense. Surely he must have made them himself and put them in the caves and on the mountains and wherever else. It was all a farce to train them. She had gotten worked up over nothing.

Final Girl shut the book on Franklin's lost expedition. That's what she needed to do—she needed to prove to herself all of that was nonsense. There were no real masks. The Gentlemen weren't real. She'd scour all the books in the library until she was satisfied none of them had any information on any of it.

She found herself at one of the information centers, backpack between her beat up Converse, knowing she'd be at the computer for a good minute. Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment as she debated exactly how to start the search.

She remembered what the masks looked like very clearly—the style was reminiscent of those found in the Amazon, Venezuela specifically with the black & white dyes and palm fibers. That stuck out to her in two parts: the first because it had been such a shock to see the examples in the book she had been reading on one of her visits that made her realize it in the first place, and the second because the animal depicted in the masks was nowhere near Venezuela: each of the masks they found depicted the head of a moose.

Final Girl frowned at the thought, then started typing. She'd start with that book. Something in there would convince her.

There was a small section on the Amazon that she felt she could work with. The specific book she was looking for was checked out, but there were others she could pull from. She grabbed a stack and settled herself with another coffee from the snack bar to help her focus, not even putting her earbuds back in this time so the books had her full attention.

She decided to start with the book on a historical recount of a mission out to one of the Amazonian tribes in Venezuela (the Piaroa people, specifically.) The account told how the tribe was discovered around 1780, with this venture happening in 1858. The group was a well travelled band of missionaries led by an explorer who had been through other parts of the Amazon prior, though this was the group's first time reaching out to the Piaroa people.

Despite their intentions having been to convert the tribe, they did make several notes about their culture that stood out to Final Girl—both in terms of proving her points that the masks she and the Jokes had found were nonsense and also that she was definitely interested in learning more about the Piaroa people after she was finished with all this debunking of her conspiracies (the usual history bug was coming back to her. Good.) For one, the Piaroa people called themselves the Huottuja, which the writers in the book used interchangeably, eventually using Huottuja far more than Piaroa as they grew closer with the tribe (which she just found interesting.) What was more important was that the masks that they used were for specific rituals called warimes. If she understood it correctly (and of course, it was coming through the words of 1850s missionaries,) it was meant to initiate tribe members into the concepts of the culture's mythology and spiritualism through the symbolism of specific animals of the forest.

Essentially, for her purposes, why would there be a moose?

She took a deep breath, feeling at least some relief trickle in.

Then she turned the page to the next entries.

1st October 1858

Whilst we prepared for another week here within the jungles, our lodgings within the tribe were happened upon by another party of explorers. We had little knowledge of any arriving, and it seemed the Huottuja were not much aware of their comings forth, either. I believe the only one privy to their approach was the head of our expedition—the one who so graciously led us through the dangers and has protected us so. He was the only one who did not seem surprised by their presence, though had little to say to them (he's had little to say in general, though, and I have wondered how much he is able to speak in either language.)

But the chaps who arrived were quite friendly. They appeared familiar with the area even if the people not so familiar with them. Likewise, they were English such as we were, so it made conversation easy. Though I will say, the manner in which they spoke and the topics in which they discussed were queer. It was not quite so commonplace the matters they brought up as they seemed to think, and the jokes they told were a bit over our heads. However, when it was discussions we all brought about, they seemed to have no trouble following through the footsteps of conversation. It was only when they got into the cycles amongst themselves that it all became a bit indecipherable. Not quite another language, but as if it was a step besides ours.

(Brother Davis suggested they were from Suffolk.)

4th October 1858

These fine folk have not left our encampment with the Huottja, not that we mind. They prove themselves quite good company the longer they stay. I had not realized they brought anything with them—I swore I remember thinking their belongings seemed sparse when they appeared through the jungle brush when we first spotted them. Yet, despite this, they've got plenty of vices about themselves to spare amongst us. You would not think to be missing a nice cigar or scotch this deep in the jungle, but when presented to you, you can't help but want to indulge.

But no- no I didn't indulge. I'm a man of God. I had no such temptation. I've sworn off these things. What am I saying? There was no desire there. Of course not. I would let the others take part if they so desired, but I resist.

I will say: these fine men do make for such pleasant conversation. I simply get lost speaking with them. The time flies by until suddenly the sun is gone and I can only wonder what happened to the day. It is simply mesmerizing to speak with them.

7th October 1858

Tonight our guests showed us the lovely masks gifted to them by a nearby shaman they had visited before coming to this one. They wouldn't tell us which tribe he belonged to, nor how to get to him, though I did insist vehemently. Still, they held strong. They even tried again to trade with me: they would tell me if only I would take one of their drinks. I still refused, as did they.

So instead we came to a compromise—I was allowed to take their photograph after a game of cards. They found this quite exciting, even getting dressed to the nines for it. I still hadn't quite found where they were keeping all their hidden goods, much less these suits they appeared with, but it will make for quite a nice picture when it all hopefully turns out. Likewise, I now have proof of these masks. Something is so peculiar about them that I can't put my finger on. I wish I had more time with them, though it seems this is our last night with our new friends. (I lost at cards though, pity that. It was kind of them to only ask for a game as the condition upon the photograph, not that I win.)

They've held one last toast to our health, and though our expedition leader was typically the only one to drink with them (the rest of us abstain,) we could not find hide nor hair of him tonight. They did not seem bothered by this even though they typically wished for one of us to drink with them. Nevertheless, it was a pleasure to know them for this week. I do hope, in some way, our paths cross again, peculiar though they might be.

Final Girl stared at the words, fingers gripping tight to the corner of the page as she tried to keep her breath steady. It was a coincidence. All just a coincidence.

She turned the page and stared at the photograph the author had taken. Six smiling figures in suits and top hats sat in a staggered array, each holding a mask in their hand besides them.

Every mask looked like a moose's head.

Below the photograph was a description

The Society of Gentlemen c. 1858

***

Augustus and Brianna tried reaching out to the Chosen to discuss what happened at the party the following day,but there was only one person he wanted to talk to to figure it out. The problem was that he got up too late and his mom was already at Joann's Fabrics for work. It also meant that the second person he was going to try to talk to about it (his stepmom) was also gone to work for the day. Either one of them were who he usually turned to when he had issues with people (something he was needing more and more advice on lately.)

It was just his luck that when he really needed either one of them, they weren't around. He was more upset with himself, though, since he knew they left early, so he should've gotten up earlier to see them. He knew to plan better even if he hated mornings; he could've adapted. Now he was stuck trying to figure out what to do in the aftermath on his own.

Granted, the house wasn't completely empty, but the other occupant wasn't one he turned to for people advice. Studying people, maybe, but not how to talk to them. Still, there were things he knew his brother could have ideas about.

It didn't take long for him to find his brother, already stationed behind the blinds of the living room with a disposable coffee cup in hand he no doubt was up at the crack of dawn to get from the shop a few streets away, watching the neighbors mowing the grass across the road. The coffee was going to last him all day—it was probably already cold. The Chosen rarely ever saw him take a sip from it, but it was always part of the look just like the sunglasses and black leather trench coat were.

It all just looked so...effortlessly cool to him.

"Greetings, Bystander," the Chosen said. The Bystander glanced over, regarded him for a moment, then gave a slight nod before going back to watching the neighbors. The Chosen took his stance besides his brother, crossing his arms and staring out the window as well.

While technically the Bystander was the Chosen's stepbrother (and also, technically, the Bystander's name was Byron,) the two had lived together long enough that the delineation didn't matter. The Chosen's parents had gotten divorced when he was nine and his mom had gotten together with the Bystander's mom when the Chosen was almost 11. Though the Chosen, at that time, was ready to reject these presences in his life (he felt he knew enough people to satisfy him socially through his mom, his dad when he saw him, and Augustus,) as soon as he got to meet the Bystander one on one, that changed.

He had already met the Bystander's mom a few times by then (her name was Pamela. She was fine. The Chosen liked her a lot now, but back then he wasn't interested in her at all,) but the Bystander was different. For one, he was older than the Chosen but not an adult, so that already made him cooler. He wasn't an authority figure, but it made him an authority on things. For another, he already had the name. The Chosen still didn't know where exactly it came from—whether Byron invented it himself or someone (a single person or collective) came up with it—and that just added to the mystique, as if it manifested all on its own. And on top of that, he had the look. It wasn't as refined as how he had it now, sure, yet the effect still hit the Chosen.

It wouldn't be a stretch for someone to recognize how his brother shaped his current identity. The Chosen would never admit it, though. Clearly it was his own doing, not his brother's.

But if anyone was going to be smart enough to figure out the riddle of potential monsters in a monster-less universe, the Chosen figured it be the person who studied it from the sidelines.

"I have a situation," the Chosen began. The Bystander took a deep breath and kept his eyes ahead. When he spoke, his voice was even toned, almost to the point of sounding bored.

"What's the situation?" he asked.

He considered how to broach the topic. There was still no proof any of it was real, one way or another. The universe was a joke, even if the ordeal surrounding the masks was strange. Yet, strange could meansomething anomalous in that joke. That's why he needed the Bystander's input.

"I'm going to give you a hypothetical since it's a bit abstract in it's fine details, but I think you'll be able to put it together," the Chosen said. The Bystander gave a slight nod, nothing more. The Chosen continued, hoping at least part of how he worded it might have impressed him from the crypticness of what he was going through. "Suppose you're a monster hunter, though trapped in a universe without monsters. You've stumbled upon a strange series of items that you think could relate to a group of monsters that, perhaps, started forming in this universe suddenly. How would you go about testing your theory?"

The Bystander contemplated it as the neighbors began to work on the weeds in their garden.

"Which part of the theory?"  he sighed. "As in if the items relate to the potential monsters or if the monsters are forming in the universe?"

The Chosen considered it. Both were important questions, but he had only ever encountered evidence for one of them. He couldn't admit that to his brother, though, he didn't want to look incompetent.

"The former," the Chosen said.

The Bystander was quiet for a while again.

"Are the items all the same or different?" he asked.

"The same," the Chosen replied.

The Bystander hung his head back and sighed again. "Then I'd find more, see if they're too common that it'd be dumb to think they'd actually be related to those monsters or if they're showing up because of them."

The Chosen nodded. There was sound logic there. All he needed to do is find out if anyone else had ever discovered the masks independently of their group. As long as there was precedence and history to them, then surely that meant there was no connection to the alleged Gentlemen.

"I will keep the thought in mind," the Chosen said, heading back towards his room. The Bystander nodded, otherwise not moving a muscle. The Chosen paid it no mind aside from thinking how impressive it was the levels of stoic he kept himself.

Locked away once again in the garage, the Chosen sat at his computer, trying every combination he could think of to search after the masks. He wouldn't bother searching up the Gentlemen—that query was too vague to mean anything. Admittedly, many of his early ones involving the moose masks were, too, and resulted in either paper craft tutorials or Etsy listings. Very much not what he was looking for. He tried narrowing the search via descriptors of the masks from what he could recall—the black base with features outlined in stark white, the antlers made of twisted up dried grasses—but that didn't do much to help either.

As he reached the hour and a half mark into the Final Fantasy VIII OST he had running in the background to help him concentrate, he realized there was one avenue he hadn't attempted reaching out through: Reddit. It was so obvious that he was kicking himself for not having started there. He could have posted there to start with and let the question linger as he sifted through his searches.

No matter, he'd post now.

r/tipofmytongue

the_chosen_seer

[TOMT] Searching For a Strange Mask: Has Anyone Seen Similar?

Saw a strange set of masks several years ago. All were of similar styles and designs (black paint for the base with white outlines around eyes and with designs around different parts of the face, fibers twisted and tied together to look like antlers coming out of the top.) Somewhat resembled moose faces but unsure if it was exactly that since it's been so long. Unfortunately cannot provide pictures as I do not have any from that time and am uncertain if my associates from that period can provide any either.

Any potential information is appreciated. Will provide more if I can or recall additional details.

He watched the post for a moment, wondering if there was anything else crucial he should have put in. He deliberately didn't mention any place they had found the masks; it could cause bias. If someone had seen one leagues away from where they found one, they might not think it was related. He needed the results undisturbed.

It took some time before the replies began. At first, it was simple clarifications—mainly ones he should have seen coming. Yes, they were man-made. Yes, they appeared very old. No, they weren't for a fursuit.

Some wanted clarifications on what culture the masks could have been from. When given suggestions, several appeared potential in coloration (Igbo masks had the black and white look as well as the length for a moose face, but not the fibers for the antlers from the glimpses he saw. Tikuna masks had a somewhat similar type of fiber that was close and sometimes the black paint, but something in the style still didn't quite match.)

Eventually, after he had gone back and forth between several commenters, providing clarifications where he could, and editing his post to add further information, a new person joined the thread.

scorpiana-tireiron

sounds like the mask their putting up at the phoenix art museum

its part of the masks of the world exhibit. i think the display is going up in a week or so. u can see it on the webiste in the 2nd picture

The commenter included a link in their reply. The Chosen followed it and scrolled down to the picture in question.

It stood on a stone pedestal, underneath a glowing light above that shone down from somewhere near imperceptible. Dust floated around it in perfect circles as if they were falling in concentrated rings, not through the chaos of common air. There were rules to the oxygen breathed in its space. All else around it was darkness.

The Chosen stared at the mask. The mask stared back at him.

He blinked, shaking his head. No—no it didn't. The picture in front of him wasn't even the mask head on: it was from an angle. There was another one more in the forefront even. The moose mask was still in focus, certainly, but it wasn't thefocus.

Yet, he saw what he saw.

And...he had seen it. Just not there. That was the first time he had ever seen one of the masks. He remembered it clearly now. How had he forgotten that feeling? Whyhad he forgotten it? There was something so wrong about that sensation, the visuals of it, everything.

He studied the mask on his screen. Even if there were no monsters in the universe, something was up with those masks.

***

Criss Darren got back from shopping a couple hours after Final Girl had left for the library. The first thing he noticed when putting the groceries away was that the off brand Pop Tarts box was empty—which was fine since he had bought a new one of the same brand (it was the ones she grew up on and insisted they tasted better.) The second thing he noticed after he finished with the cabinets was that she hadn't touched the breakfast he left for her in the fridge. He had assumed, initially, that she had only taken part of it and put the foil back on to save the rest for later, or perhaps she hadn't gotten up yet, but when he saw it was undisturbed and she didn't answer him in combination with the fact the almost Pop Tarts were empty, it was clear what happened.

He finished putting the groceries away and leaned back against the counter. He should have talked to her last night. Letting Final Girl get in her own head with only her anxiety for company was always the worst option and he knew better than that. While he wasn't going to say sorry, he could have at least talked her down. He got why she was upset—he was upset, too. Everything with training was a mess, especially in its final days. Mr. Grub's erratic sayings through the entirety of their training never helped, either, so half remembering those and the events of it all was of course going to cause a spiral between them. It was four fighting perspectives on memories they were already struggling to recontextualize.

It felt like he was the only one content with the whole idea of "being a joke." He had been admittedly content with the whole concept for longer than it seemed like the rest of them had been. None of them had back up plans, goals, prospects—anything outside of the training. Even during the mansion, Criss Darren's mind was still on getting back to school so he could be ready for regionals. Everyone else though? Regina had been focused on prom, the Chosen was busy with keeping track of the mansion itself, and Final Girl just wanted to go home. Then training started and that became their lives. Criss Darren, though, was dealing with that and applying to theater school. Training was always the second part of his life, not the first one. When he was younger, he felt guilty for it, but now when he saw how much it had torn them apart by its teeth, he was glad he kept one foot back even if it meant he was juggling so much (but he was always ready to perform something new.)

Maybe that's why Final Girl was so caught up in it. She never got to let it go. He knew she was trying to find something new to do with herself, but sometimes the only way to move on is to finish what you can't let go of.

He pulled out his phone and tried to find out whatever happened to Mr. Grub. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Grub did not seem to be the kind to use social media, so there wasn't many hits popping up for things like Facebook or even LinkedIn. Yet, even though Criss Darren felt the name "Yancy Grub Bootles" wasn't a common one, it was yielding nothing.

Despite the strangeness, he pushed onwards and tried another tactic, amending his search to only include results prior to when they started training. That did yield some: primarily ones from their high school when he was included in any photos or newsletters. Somewhat promising—he wasn't entirely erased from the internet.

He went along in the years, pushing further on and on until, once again, the results came back up with nothing new. Apparently after 2011, Mr. Grub had just vanished. It felt notable that that was the cutoff since, if Criss Darren was remembering correctly, that was the last time they also saw him. It had been the day of their last training—not that any of them had known it when they had first shown up, but it grew increasingly obvious the more they bickered over how pointless it all was. Mr. Grub told them again how he warned them there would never be monsters for them to fight, which is when Regina specifically blew up on him, saying that he was wasting their time with "making them care."

(Criss Darren contemplated the old memory, wondering if he should have pushed harder to talk to her about what happened that day. She had never wanted to bring it up, always just saying they had been dumb kids. He had just shrugged and agreed, but now he felt there was more she might have wanted to say if he had gotten her to.)

His dead ends were frustrating, yet he knew not as dead as they could have been. There was a trick he had that few others did.

Criss Darren thumbed through his messages and pulled up his dad's name.

Can one of your old contacts at the secret service look someone up for me?

—Criss (4:38pm)

It took nearly twenty minutes before he got a reply.

Sure.

—Mr. Government (Pops) (4:56pm)

His dad rarely ever asked questions, and even if he had any, he hated texting, so he'd hold onto them until they saw each other in person. Criss Darren would have plenty of time to figure out what he'd say about why he wanted to know where Mr. Grub was, lie or otherwise.

He sent the information he needed over and made dinner as he waited for an answer. As he pulled the pizza from the oven, his phone buzzed.

Lives near Boston. Works as a substitute teacher.

—Mr. Government (Pops) (5:41pm)

Old habits die hard.

Need his address?

—Mr. Government (Pops) (5:57pm)

He considered it.

Yes, sir, thank you!

—Criss (6:01pm)

***

The Jokes' group chat was busy that night, but Regina wasn't participating.

She lurked along with the messages as they came through while she laid in the dark in bed, watching as the Chosen reported there was another mask on display at a museum in Arizona with a link to it that she didn't click on, then as Final Girl told them all about the book she had found at the library that Criss Darren verified the veracity of after she brought it home. He had talked her down from her panic over it and insisted that, even though there was this semblance of proof of something, it didn't necessarily mean anything. The book allegedly got worse after the picture Final Girl saw—the expedition leader was found dead and she thought it meant the supposed Gentlemen killed him—but Criss Darren insisted that was very well just conjecture and there was no hard proof of a supernatural presence. Even if they had done it, at the very least, they could have just been a band of serial killers. It was the 1800s; it was easier to get away with that kind of thing. No one had ever caught Jack the Ripper, they never proved Springheel Jack, and if these guys were along the same lines, the fact they were traveling the world, it would make their crimes even harder to track. Maybe Mr. Grub had gone down his own rabbit hole and started a conspiracy to connect potential crimes in different countries to them after reading an account like this—maybe even this exact one.

Then Criss Darren suggested visiting him themselves and talking to him so they could get concrete answers. He had his address.

That's how Regina ended up closing out of the group chat and scrolling through her old photos and videos from the training days she kept on her secret cloud account. For now, it was the only things on there, and she hoped she could keep it that way. (So far she was still managing to be a good daughter.)

It was so strange seeing how young she used to look even though she looked through those pictures at least once every few months. Everyone looked so young. There was her and Final Girl in the backseat of the van, their horde of Starbursts between them separated into their specific colors—Final Girl got reds and oranges while Regina got yellows and pinks. It's what first bridged the gap between them: she realized Final Girl was only eating half the package since she couldn't stand the lemon or pink lemonade flavors which were Regina's favorites, so they started splitting up every package they bought at the gas stations to share, then eventually just buying them in bulk before the road trips to sort on the drives for fun. They'd keep count of the colors to see how similar the makeup would be from package to package, if any color would be more prominent (usually it was pink lemonade which always made them laugh. They started taking bets on it and whoever said it second had to buy the next bag. Regina tried not to make it obvious that she was being slow at it so that way it was her responsibility to get the bag over Final Girl's since she knew she was more well off. She didn't do it every time, though, just enough.)

Another one was a selfie of her and the Chosen playing Magic: the Gathering at a Dairy Queen during a break with the other Jokes besides them. The Chosen was focused on his cards while she and the others were smiling up at her phone. It was probably after getting back from training somewhere with how her hair was falling out of its ponytail and her eyeliner looked smudged—but then again, she hadn't been as good at it back then as she thought she was. She was so confident in it to the point she'd bully the other girls at school for how they looked, yet that's how she walked around.

The thought swam through her mind, drowning the slightest nostalgia she was feeling from seeing the picture. She swiped to the next one.

It was her and Criss Darren hiking up a trail in the woods, making faces to the camera. They must have been either at it for a while or she knew it was going to be a more intensive day since it didn't look like she had on any makeup. It was a rare photo from her, but not an unwelcome one. Whatever they were training for at that time was probably extensive, yet, clearly, they were still having a good enough time to be able to be goofy. Maybe it was just endurance, or maybe they just hadn't gotten there yet.

Her chest was aching again.

She scrolled through and found an old video. It wasn't a long one; just something simple she must have had Criss Darren or Final Girl take while she was practicing against the Chosen at one of the usual training locations. She watched for a bit, smiling at how bad her form used to be as she worked at blocking the Chosen's moves. This was no doubt one of the dozen she had taken during training to study how to improve her fighting. The voices were so muffled under the old quality, but as soon as she heard the inkling of Mr. Grub off-screen instructing her, she closed out of the video to find something else to look at.

There were pictures of the caves they went through, all the odd formations in them illuminated by their flashlights or one of them posing by them (usually her or Criss Darren.) There was a picture of her posing with one of the moose masks for a selfie after they found it in the cave (if she remembered correctly, this was the third one they had found by that point and the newness of finding them had worn off,) and there was a blur in the corner of the picture of Mr. Grub's hand as he tried to take the mask back from her. A group picture of the Jokes on Mt. Baldy, various ones of her hanging out in the van with each of them at different points or at different gas stations, or just pictures of herself in the middle of training when she had thought she looked tough. Now, she thought she just looked babyfaced and little. Even in the ones where she was trying to flex and show how strong she had gotten, it paled in comparison to how much more she would get. Physically, that is. It only ever seemed like it would be physically.

She tapped to the next picture and it was another selfie, this time almost hard to parse with how dark it was. It was nighttime in the van, with Regina's face only partially in frame, the focus clearly being everything over her shoulder. Behind her were the back two rows of seats. She squinted at the photo through its dense pixels, realizing it was of everyone curled up asleep. The Chosen was in the furthest back row, then Final Girl up against Criss Darren on the bench ahead with her hood over her head and Criss Darren's against hers. Regina herself would've been in the front passenger seat, still awake with Mr. Grub, just out of frame.

Regina felt her eyes grow glassy, blinking it back to try and deny how it made her heart hurt.

She hated that picture because she had been missing those late night drives the most. When everyone else was asleep and she could tell him what was actually going on without anyone else hearing. When it felt like there was no end to the road and she wasn't going back to the same thing she had been driven away from.

She scrolled to get away from the picture and feelings as her throat burned, fingers shaking out of her control and tapping on a video she hadn't meant to as she searched for something else. Again, she was in the front passenger seat, but this time it was a bright afternoon and everyone was awake. Heavy rock music was blasting loud through the tinny quality and the Jokes (well, minus the Chosen) were singing along. She almost remembered the words as she watched—it was one of the CDs that Mr. Grub would play that they always teased him for since, even though he wouldn't let them swear, the songs certainly had plenty of them in them. But he'd say "you can't give up the music you grew up on" and let it play.

She stared at the video, throat choking her as it played and she watched how into the song her, Criss Darren, and Final Girl were. Then the camera shifted, with her still singing and recording, and she watched as her younger self set her head on Mr. Grub's stoic shoulder as he drove, eyes still focused on the road ahead. She hadn't cared, still smiling to the camera, so happy to be somewhere surrounded by people who cared about her for who she was when she really was herself.

The tears she was fighting started to spill down her face as the video ended. Regina started it again. And then again, watching, at first, just the other Jokes in the background and replaying only the parts with them, then finally giving in and focusing only on the final half with her and Mr. Grub. Her chest shook as she tried to keep her breathing steady, but it was of no use. She stopped the video on a frame of her with her head on his shoulder as her eyes grew too blurry to see any of it and held her phone away as she wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist, choking out the sobs she had been holding back.

She closed out of the photos and brought up her messages, except not pulling up the group chat.

Hey dad, would you and mom mind if I borrowed the RV?

—Regina (11:12pm)

Chapter Text

Everyone was meeting up at the Chosen's mom's house for the road trip around 10am. It was the easiest place for Regina to navigate the monster of an RV to, so Criss Darren and Final Girl got an Uber and headed over so they didn't have to leave his car there and occupy any space in the driveway for however long they'd be gone.

The Chosen had texted Augustus and Brianna that morning of the situation and that he'd be out of town for, by his calculations, a week. So while the others were in the RV learning the basics on how to drive it for the rotations, the last thing the Chosen expected as he carried his things from his mom's house was to see Brianna parking her Tesla in the driveway and Augustus getting out of the passenger seat.

"What are you two doing here?" the Chosen asked, stopping on the sidewalk.

Brianna's head popped up from the other side of her car. "Road trip! Isn't that what you said we were doing?"

"Not all of us—" the Chosen started, but was cut off by Augustus's approach.

"Look, I don't particularly like anyone who's on that RV right now," he muttered, pointing back at it, "but I'm not risking you getting yourself hurt on this crazy trip without my specific expert skills, so I'm coming along whether you say yes or no."

The Chosen frowned. "You don't have to come along."

"Did you not hear what I just said?" Augustus asked. "Also: Brianna's coming, too. You can't leave both of us behind, it would be rude."

The Chosen glanced over to Brianna, still lingering over by her car with her hands folded under her chin on its roof like an expectant child, smiling over to him. Neither of them had any idea the real weight of what was at stake, nor the training for what they could encounter on the way.

But if the universe was truly a joke like it was supposed to be...

He took a deep breath. "Alright."

Augustus rolled his eyes. "Thank you." He turned back to Brianna and nodded towards the RV as he tugged his backpack strap onto his shoulder. "He gave in. We're good."

"Yay!" Brianna cheered and ducked back into her car to grab her things.

"I did not give in," the Chosen argued.

"You did," Augustus argued back and started towards the RV. The Chosen shook his head and followed after him, Brianna hurrying after the both of them moments after with a suitcase the size of both of their backpacks combined.

"By the way—I texted your mom earlier and she said it's okay that I'm leaving my car here," Brianna assured him as they headed up the steps into the RV.

"My mom knew?!" the Chosen said.

"Yeah! She didn't tell you?" she asked.

"No! She just— she just said have fun, which is not the point of this."

"This can totally be fun! We're going to, like, Boston? I'm sure we can find stuff to do."

"That's not the reason—"

"You're bringing extras?" Criss Darren asked as the three stumbled into the RV. The Chosen watched him study Augustus and Brianna as he leaned back against the back of Regina's driver seat, demeanor markedly different from the party at Brianna's place. This was a deep investigation of them through their sheer presence—he had already stepped back into his training days as if they were put into one of Mr. Grub's split second tests.

And something irked in the Chosen's brain as if it wasn't just Augustus and Brianna he was investigating. (But he already knew the Chosen, so why would he do that?)

"What, did we have to audition?" Augustus snapped.

Criss Darren eyed him, then glanced over to Brianna who hadn't noticed any of the interaction as she slipped behind the Chosen and Augustus towards the back bedroom to put her suitcase away (she seemed familiar with the layout of luxury RVs like this one.) Instead of addressing Augustus, he turned back towards the sofa arm where Final Girl was sat, angled behind him where she was able to notice everyone getting on but they hadn't seen her until Criss Darren brought attention to her (her own Hunter trick.)

"Not what I meant," he whispered to her. She grinned and rolled her eyes.

"Don't be mean," she mumbled back.

"Can everyone please pay attention?" Regina called out to the cabin. "This is the most important part to anyone who's planning to drive."

The whole group turned their attention to her, with Brianna hurrying back up to the front—though the Chosen took her place taking his things to the back. Regina continued once she was sure she was the focus, tapping a screen on the console and smiling.

"This is where you hook your phone up to the Bluetooth so you can play music," she said, "so start making your playlists now so that way you're not messing with it when you're driving. If any of you get even a scratch on my parents' RV, I'm going to make sure no one ever finds your body. Remember—I'm the only one from training that never had to learn how to use a weapon," she held up her fist, "just these. None of you can beat me."

"So tough," Final Girl mocked.

Regina reached back and held her fist close to Final Girl's face, then stuck her finger out and bopped her nose. The two laughed, then Regina turned her attention back around.

"Okay then!" she started. "Augustus?"

"What?" Augustus asked.

"Shut the door, and let's get on the road," she said.

Augustus turned and did as he was asked, then Regina started the engine.

***

An hour deep into the drive, Final Girl glanced back over her shoulder from the passenger seat and playlist she was building on her phone towards the rest of the RV. Brianna was taking another selfie, the Chosen next to her and Augustus across from them in the booth at the little dining area as the two played something on the Switches they brought. Criss Darren had sequestered himself to the back bedroom to study the book Final Girl had checked out from the library to see how much he trusted the account about the Gentlemen and find out if there were any others he could verify it with online through the RV's wifi. That just left her with Regina up in the front and Taylor Swift on the speakers.

Final Girl watched Brianna close for a moment, then leaned over to Regina and lowered her voice.

"Do you really think it's a good idea for us to bring them?" she whispered.

"Why not?" Regina asked.

"We're the only ones that know what's going on—"

"Do we even know what's going on?"

Final Girl frowned and crossed her arms, pulling her feet up into the seat with her as she stared out the window away from Regina.

"I just don't know if it's smart to bring auxiliary passengers," Final Girl said.

"Do you think that or does Criss Darren think that?" Regina asked.

Final Girl was quiet again.

"What's your actual thoughts?" Regina asked.

"I'm scared," she admitted.

"Of what?"

"Being wrong."

"About what?"

"All of it. That I'm overreacting about the Gentlemen and the masks and that nothing is actually going on and I'm making you all go on this trip for no reason and I took my week of vacation for this stupid trip when I could've done something else."

"I'm sorry—you would rather be at Hot Topic than take a road trip with us?" Regina asked.

Final Girl tried to resist it, but she smiled.

"They weren't happy that I put it in so out of the blue," she said.

"Good," Regina said, "they treat you like dirt. They get dirt back."

Final Girl let out a small laugh.

"I promise: it's not gonna be pointless," Regina said.

There was a moment's hesitation as Final Girl turned her head towards her, cars and signs passing by outside. She held out her pinky finger towards Regina. Regina noticed it from the corner of her eye and caught it in her own.

***

Just outside of Joshua Tree, they made their first stop.

Regina stood up from the driver's seat after she parked at the diesel pump, everyone turning their attention to her when she did and Criss Darren finally opening back up the bedroom's sliding door after the RV had pulled to a halt. She spun around to the rest of the cabin and leaned against her seat with a grin on her face, cupping a surprise PA system microphone in her hand. The curly wire bounced against her hip from where it connected back to the RV's console.

"Hello Jokes & stragglers," Regina greeted, voice echoing through the RV's hidden ceiling speakers, "this is probably the only stop we can make before Phoenix, so please—get off and make the most of it. I know this is a high class ride with all the amenities, but if we could please use any public facilities when available, I'd greatly appreciate it. Likewise, I'm going to fill up the RV's tank so I can start figuring up how we're going to split up the cost of this trip." She held up her finger. "Also: if you have not already swapped phone numbers with everyone, make sure to do that. We don't want anyone left behind nor do we want anyone without the ability to reach out to the only five other people you'll know for the rest of this journey. Thank you for your cooperation and please enjoy your time here at the Love's Travel Stop."

Regina gave them all a wink and returned the receiver to the cradle. Final Girl worked on shifting the passenger seat back to open the route out as the rest shuffled about. Criss Darren had already slipped past them to get to the front, leaning over to Regina's shoulder.

"Why is there a PA system on the RV?" he asked.

"My dad's weird," Regina said, "I think he wanted to be a pilot or something and this was the closest he could get. I'm pretty sure my Aunt Sadie had something to do with it since he kept calling her a 'flight risk.'"

They watched the others file out of the RV.

"I don't think that's what that means," Criss Darren said.

Regina shrugged and they headed out as well.

She had given Criss Darren her requests from the truck stop and he wandered through with Final Girl, Regina's bottles of Glacier Freeze and Lemon Lime Gatorade turning the bend of his arm cold as his own Starbucks Doubleshot hung down between his fingers in his other hand. Final Girl trailed up the snack aisle in front of him, mindlessly gnawing on the straw of her slurpee.

"Did you find anything yet?" she asked.

"Not really anything I want," he replied, "plus I brought snacks so I don't really need more."

"I meant on the Gentlemen."

"Oh, no."

"Oh."

"Can you grab those? Regina asked for them," he said, trying to point without the Gatorades slipping. Final Girl glanced to him, then followed his finger, spotting the box of Starburst packages sitting there. A small smile crossed her face that she tried to hide, but made sure to grab a sleeve to pass to him. "Thanks."

"There was nothing at all?" she asked.

"No. And the most I've found under 'the Society of Gentlemen' is a book series about gay men."

She eyed him. "Are we sure it's not the same?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes."

She kept watching him as they headed towards the register. "No connection at all?"

"It's nearly 40 years off time period wise."

Her eyes didn't leave him as they set everything on the counter.

"I'm not gonna read it to find out!" he said.

"Come on!" she teased. "Aren't you the Investigator?"

"You can read it!"

"I'm not gonna do that."

"Exactly."

The two headed out of the Love's with their snacks back towards the RV, Final Girl tearing open the top of the pretzels she bought with one hand and her teeth.

"It's so weird that there's really nothing coming up, though," she said after she pulled the bag out of her mouth.

"You for sure found the book in the nonfiction section?" he asked.

"Mm-hm," she said, "Dewey Decimal doesn't lie."

"I'll keep looking," he said. Final Girl nodded before tilting her head back and shaking the pretzels into her mouth.

Regina was stood next to the fuel pump, studying the receipt in one hand and typing numbers into her phone with the other. She glanced up as they approached and gave them half a nod and "Hey."

"Do you want these in the fridge?" Criss Darren asked as he held up the Gatorades.

"Hm?" Regina looked fully away from the receipt this time, noticing the drinks. "Oh—no I'll take them. I'll buy your stuff at the next stop, fair?"

"Fair," he said and handed over the bottles. She took them, sticking them in the crook of her arm and returning her focus on her receipt and phone. Criss Darren and Final Girl headed back onto the RV, sliding into opposite sides of the booth. He watched the doors of the Love's as Final Girl continued to work on her playlist, hood of her jacket up and head down so she could focus.

It seemed Augustus and Brianna were caught up with whatever snacks they were busy deciding between (he had briefly overheard Brianna getting sucked into what seemed like a rabbit hole of opinions that Augustus had on gas station snacks, though Brianna appeared deeply fascinated by all of it,) because the Chosen walked out of the Love's alone with his own bag of things. From what Criss Darren recalled from all the past road trips, the Chosen was someone of routine. He tended to get the same rotation of things whenever they would stop. It was always some combination of Mountain Dew, SoBe (back then), Gatorade, or Brisk with Doritos, Cheez-Its, Skittles, or, specifically, Flamin' Hot Cheetos.

With the size of the Love's, Criss Darren would gladly bet that every single one of those things was in that bag (minus the SoBe.)

Augustus and Brianna were not too far behind, it turned out, as they exited the Love's moments after he had. Perhaps the Chosen had just misjudged how quickly he had left. It was something Criss Darren also recalled from back during the training days. For all the confidence the Chosen had in his skills, he had his blind spots—the main one being his awareness of the others around him. Everyone else only noticed this in the ways he dealt with them socially, but less so did people realize it tended to extend perceptively at times. It's why Mr. Grub had paired him and Regina up. She could manage both—noticing the ways they needed to navigate social settings and physical ones. If the need arose, she could save the two of them by talking their way out of the problem or watch both their backs when the Chosen was too focused on the task at hand to realize they were about to be ambushed.

(The latter proved very true in one of their training tests when the duos were up against each other and he and the Chosen were in a fight and the Chosen hadn't noticed Final Girl nearly right on top of him. Regina, however, had. She apparently had been keeping an eye on all three of them the whole time to make sure the Chosen was staying steady in his fight while also Final Girl couldn't get too close. It was impressive, Criss Darren would give her that.)

As the Chosen approached the RV, Regina noticed him and waved. The Chosen waved back and, once he reached her, Regina handed him the Glacier Freeze Gatorade with a smile. He took it with a nod back as she tapped the lid of her Lemon Lime one to it.

Of course. The ritual. How had Criss Darren forgotten?

His eye, however, wandered back over to Brianna and Augustus. Augustus still appeared caught up in rambling to her and hadn't noticed a thing, but Brianna had her eye locked on Regina. She had clearly seen the exchange and was watching the bottles between them closely, though kept trying to turn her attention back to Augustus. Yet, it continued to return to Regina as she talked with the Chosen.

Criss Darren studied her as she continued to approach with Augustus. Her fingers tightened on the can of Ghost and the straps of the plastic bag in the same manner her lips pursed. But as soon as Augustus glanced over to her, all the tension in her face snapped away and the bubbly brightness reappeared as she nodded along to whatever he was saying—except Criss Darren could see her hands still gripping tight to everything.

He decided to keep it in mind.

***

Criss Darren had taken over driving duties, so Final Girl commandeered the sofa. She would've stayed in the booth, but she didn't want to get trapped in it if anyone else wanted to use it, no matter which side they sat on.

Regina was up in front with him, making sure he had gotten the basics for driving the RV down when she went over it that morning. Final Girl wasn't surprised he was the first one she was letting drive it—he was the one who always noticed the finer details of things. If anyone was going to absorb everything Regina told them about how to drive it first go around, it would've been him.

The Chosen was asleep in the back (10am was apparently so early for him to be all ready by and he had crashed hard—although it usually was for her, too, so she couldn't judge too much) and Brianna had commandeered the bathroom to redo her makeup. Final Girl couldn't figure out what had been wrong with it, but all she had ever done with her own makeup over the years was eyeliner and black or red lipstick. Then again, all the girls that cared that much about their appearance growing up never tended to talk to Final Girl, so she never understood the intricacies of it. Regina was the one exception, and even then Final Girl still didn't quite get it.

She sat, curled up on the sofa with her phone in front of her as she continued futzing with her playlist, music blasting through her earbuds. As she picked through her half of the Starbursts from where she had them stashed in her jacket pocket, her phone buzzed.

Hey,

What are you listening to?

—Augustus (12:33pm)

Final Girl's eyebrows quirked before she glanced up and over, finally noticing that Augustus had taken a seat at the booth across from the sofa and was watching her with a smirk. She felt her face grow hot as she tore her earbuds from her ears and he laughed.

"I asked about...three times before I sent that," he said.

She crossed her arms tight over her chest and tucked her phone into her jacket. "It's nothing."

"Oh! Silence. Very impressive," he replied, "I didn't know it could get that loud."

Final Girl bit the inside of her cheek and watched him, knowing her best defense was to just keep her mouth shut. Anything she said was just going to make things worse. She was used to being mocked—it had just been years since it happened regularly (didn't mean she forgot the strategies.)

"I thought it sounded more like Lemon Demon than silence," he said.

She blinked.

"What if it was?" she asked.

"Which song was it?" he asked.

She'd be playing a dangerous game. "'The Machine.'"

"That's a good one."

She hesitated, mumbling when she did speak. "It's my favorite one."

Augustus cocked his head, crossing his arms as he studied her. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Final Girl shifted in her seat, pressing herself back further into the corner of the sofa she was already curled tight into to push her nerves down. She had worked on this—she could talk about things she liked. That was easier than talking just about herself. People disagreeing about the things you like didn't mean they didn't like you.

"You know..." she started, easing herself into talking so her words didn't come out shaky, "...the imagery is vivid and cool, and the way it builds with the instrumentation is really energetic...plus I guess I relate to someone putting a ton of effort into something that ultimately doesn't matter but is still kind of wonderful and beautiful."

Her eyes darted down to her nails, watching her unsteady fingers as she pretended to pick at the chipping polish. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Augustus nod.

"Very neat," he said, "I didn't take you for a Newgrounds fan."

"Chosen showed it to me," she said, "I always liked it 'cause it was free and I got to play some weird games."

"What'd you play?"

She took a breath to steady herself and think it through. "Perdition and the Deep Sleep trilogy mainly. I played through those a few times."

(She wasn't going to tell him she also played Me and My Dinosaur a lot. Or that it made her cry. She could keep some of her interests to herself.)

"Sci-fi and horror, quite the twist," he joked.

She let a slight smile peer through and shrugged slightly. "I'm a woman of surprises."

"You know," he began, straightening up in the booth, "there's a lot more free games online besides just on Newgrounds."

"You mean like the RPG Maker horror games? I know, I got into those too," she said.

His face lit up. "A learned woman!"

Final Girl laughed and shook her head. "Honestly I'm surprised I never gave my dad's computer a virus from all the ones I downloaded, but he kept letting me do it."

"Well, now you have to tell me which ones of those you played."

"Well," Final Girl started, easing her position on the sofa and stretching her legs out from her chest, "would you believe me if I said I got The Witch's House secret ending?"

"Color me impressed!"

"I had to stay up all night to do it since I was struggling with the game without being able to save, but yeah," she admitted with another smile, "I was committed to getting it."

Augustus continued interrogating her on her interests, with Final Girl finding herself growing less and less anxious about it as they went. Even as she admitted her favorite animes in high school had been Black Butler and Vampire Knight, she found herself defending herself with enthusiasm rather than feeling ashamed. And it seemed like Augustus wasn't trying to be malicious with it, either—she had at least proven herself worthy of something from her music taste to talk to him, she guessed. Something had proved her mettle.

As Final Girl teased him back for liking Vocaloid, she spotted Regina up in the passenger seat turned back towards her, grinning. While Augustus was busy trying to search up a song on his phone to prove her wrong and that there were plenty of good Vocaloid songs she'd like, she flipped off Regina before he could notice. Regina just laughed and returned her attention to the road ahead as Final Girl smiled.

***

Eventually, Regina was comfortable with the way Criss Darren handled the RV, so left him to it as she headed back to make herself lunch since they hadn't stopped for it. They needed to get to the museum before it closed at 5:00pm, and as long as they got lucky and didn't hit any major traffic, they'd be there by about 3:45pm or so.

He considered what he read about the Gentlemen from the book Final Girl got. The account wasn't very clear one way or another on anything regarding them whether or not it was anything supernatural. Then again, people in the 1800s tended to exaggerate the superstitious when they thought it was leaning that way. He felt that, if it was supernatural, at least, then it would be more obvious in how it was written—more hysterical. In the later entries, the writer was trying to claim certain events (like the expedition leader's death) were caused by the Gentlemen's visit, but there was no proof. It was the Amazon—there were plenty of things that could have killed him out there, even if he was a regular explorer of it. Simple timing of their visit did not mean murder.

And yet—it didn't rule it out either.

"Hi, Criss Darren!" Brianna sang as she trotted up to the front of the RV before dropping down into the passenger seat. Criss Darren glanced up to her for a moment before returning his eyes to the road.

"Hey, Brianna!" he replied. He reached over and turned Kate Bush down on his phone—but really was tilting the screen and turning on the camera for a brief moment to check behind him to the rest of the cabin. Regina was busy in the kitchen area with the sandwiches as Augustus leaned over the back of the booth to talk to her and Final Girl on the sofa watched them. The Chosen was still asleep in the back. He switched back to the music and put his attention back on the road ahead. "How are you doing?"

"Good!" she said, curling up in the seat and watching the cars around them. "So, can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, girl," he said.

"And like, I hope it's not offensive or anything."

Oh, he was ready for this. "Sure thing."

"Why do people call you Criss Darren and not just Criss?"

The Chosen certainly surrounded himself with interesting people.

"Oh, we just had so many other kids named Chris in school that we all had to start going by nicknames or our middle names to differentiate ourselves, so I went by my first and middle both," he explained.

She gasped. "That makes so much sense!"

"Did you picture a different reason?"

"No—but I've been trying to come up with one since we met because I thought it'd be too rude to ask."

He furrowed his brow. "So why'd you ask now?"

"I thought I'd have plenty of time to apologize and you wouldn't have time to leave before I could," she said.

Criss Darren laughed. "That works."

He watched her take a couple selfies out of the corner of his eye, angling it so she could get everyone else in the background with her, too, before taking one with Criss Darren that he did his best to pose and smile for (while his eyes were still forward. At least the sunglasses hid it for the picture—maybe the Chosen was onto something.)

"So because you got to ask something," he started, "can I ask you something?"

"Yeah!" Brianna replied. "I'm pretty open to everything—questions, new experiences, people, kinks, drugs, sponsorships—what are you thinking?"

"Something simpler," he said, "I was just wondering about what happened back at the gas station."

She eyed him and cocked her head. "What happened?"

"When you and Augustus were coming back—"

"Oh! He was telling me about how, like, 7/11's have way bigger ranges of snacks over in Japan and they're super unique and everything in our gas station and convenience stores are so boring in comparison, and honestly all the stuff he was describing genuinely sounded so good that it made me really hungry but all I could find that I wanted was Oreos."

"That...wasn't what I was talking about."

"Oh. What was it, then?"

He considered his words.

"What do you think of Regina?" he asked.

"Regina?" she asked. "I like her! She does really good on my nails—see?"

Brianna held her hand over to him and he gave a brief glance down. Highlighter green with black and white racing stripes. Very clean from what he could glean. The typical high attention to details for Regina's work.

"Very nice," he said.

"I love her work. I'm so glad I got her to start doing them for me," Brianna said as she pulled her hand back and admired them herself.

"So you didn't have an issue with her giving the Chosen a drink?"

Brianna was silent.

"Why would I have a problem with that?" she asked. Her tone had changed. She was looking for direction.

Criss Darren shrugged. "I don't know. I was just checking in."

Again, Brianna was quiet. She picked at the ends of her hair, refusing to look elsewhere, especially as Regina called up to the front to see if either of them wanted anything to eat for lunch.

***

They swapped drivers again when they got to Phoenix, with Regina taking the wheel so no one else had to try to navigate parking it at the museum in her stead. She wasn't risking any of them hitting a car there (and even she was parking it a ways away from any other vehicle in the lot.)

They had swapped out at the gas station they swung through when they got into the city since the RV was getting low on diesel, which is also when she gave them the run down on how she wanted to split up the fueling for the road to Boston—she was going to take the majority of the fill ups, while she wanted them all to do one each. She didn't care when they did it (they could figure that out or volunteer for it themselves,) but as long as everyone pitched in to refuel the RV once, she'd take care of all the other stops.

As they walked into the Phoenix Art Museum, Augustus finished figuring up the numbers on his phone and he eyed Regina ahead of him.

"Good to know she still likes to flaunt daddy's wealth," he grumbled.

Brianna, who was distracted taking videos of the sculptures on display around the lobby besides him where they hung back from the group, was the only one to catch the comment and glanced over. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"She'll be paying for four of the roughly ten stops we're making based on how long we were able to go on a full tank before it got low," he said, "and since it's diesel, that means it's going to cost even more than gas to fuel it up. So the fact she's willing to cover for nearly as many as we're paying separately means money continues to be no object for her."

"Why would her boyfriend have anything to do with that?" she asked.

"I meant her actual dad."

"Oh," Brianna paused, "but, like, what does he still have to do with it?"

"If it's no object for her, then it's probably not her object," he replied with a sneer, still aimed at Regina.

She looked ahead alongside him towards Regina who stood at the welcome desk, handing a card over to pay for the whole group's tickets in. Brianna pursed her lips and gripped her phone tight.

Regina turned back towards the group and pointed towards a spot away from the welcome desk, gathering them all (including Augustus and Brianna) with her. The Chosen sidled up besides her with both him and Regina crossing their arms like sentries.

"Alright, so the woman at admissions said the exhibit isn't open for another two days. I'm sure Phoenix is great, but I don't really want to stay here until then just to take a look at the mask," Regina started.

"So that means we've got to find a way to see it before we leave the museum in some other manner," the Chosen added.

"Initial thoughts welcome, then we'll break, explore, and regroup," Regina continued.

"Do we know what section of the museum the exhibit's in?" Final Girl asked.

"Cummings Great Hall," the Chosen replied, "it's on this floor in the back. It will most likely be blocked off from view if any of the pieces are even out."

"There might be points to slip through if it's not secured well or perhaps a way for us to see over it if it's near a second floor," Criss Darren said, "and if not there, it may be in the back in storage."

"Let's see what we find, then." Regina nodded, already turning and heading off, the Chosen right on her heels. Criss Darren threw up his hands as Final Girl rolled her eyes. Augustus stared dumbfounded after them with Brianna having just barely been able to pinball her attention back and forth through the whole conversation to even realize it was over.

"And they've done it again," Criss Darren sighed.

"I'm sorry—and what are they doing?" Augustus asked.

"Being the dynamic duo," Final Girl mumbled, then turned to Criss Darren, "ready, Holmes?"

"Ready, Watson," he replied before looking back to Augustus and Brianna as they started off, "you two just hang. We'll text you when we've got this figured out."

Augustus huffed and crossed his arms, watching them leave.

"They can't seriously think we're useless," he scoffed. Brianna frowned, still trying to parse what all just happened.

"I..." she started, "Augustus—I don't get what's going on. I don't even know what they were talking about."

Augustus pulled out his phone and brought up the museum's website, showing her the exhibit's page with the moose mask on it. "This is what they're so obsessed with. They're trying to find it in the museum. But apparently they don't think we can be of any help, so they've just run off without us and are just telling us to 'wait and be good' like we're children."

Brianna studied the screen as Augustus huffed again and glanced at the people milling about the museum around them.

"Where'd they say it was supposed to be at?" she asked.

Augustus tapped through the website to a map, then turned his attention upwards to point down a hallway. "Back that way."

"Well..." she started, "...why don't we go that way and...see if we can help?"

"It's not going to do us any good. They'll just get mad and say we're in the way."

"But we can at least look around instead of stand here."

Augustus frowned and considered it. He certainly didn't want to just wait around until they picked them back up, successful or not (and they'd probably be successful which would make him more upset.)

"Fine," he said.

The two wandered down the halls towards the back wing of the museum. They spotted what must have been the Cummings Great Hall, blocked off by tall walls with posters advertising the soon-to-be exhibit at the end of the hall, and Regina's bright blonde hair and equally bright yellow cardigan besides it with the Chosen alongside her, discussing whatever strategy they were considering. Augustus studied the interaction from afar, at first thinking how animated they moved was surely due to an argument they were in. Yet as he watched longer, he knew that wasn't the case. The depth in which they watched each other as they spoke, the manner of it, everything in the openness of the body language—no matter how excited the energy, they were deeply in sync. Then, with a single nod, the two darted off down a different hall, steps almost exactly the same.

And while Augustus could not understand how, out of all the people in the world, Regina O'Brien was someone the Chosen could be like this with, he did understand the Chosen was a creature of habit. And that meant there was something Augustus now did understand: when he had asked the Chosen if he, too, could be a Chosen, the Chosen gave Brianna as an example not because he genuinely thought Brianna could do it, but because Brianna was the closest thing he had to Regina, whether he recognized it or not.

He watched them march off, taking the resentment from that night with them.

Augustus turned back to Brianna—who was no longer by his side. And when he did spot her, he did not feel it was appropriate to interrupt.

Brianna had a specific way of talking to people when she wanted something from them. It was something she was puppeted to do during sponsor reads to encourage her audience to click the link in the description and something she used to do to Bryce when she was convincing him to do something to get him out of her house for a couple hours. Standing straighter, specific hand placements and motions near her chest, angling her stance to accentuate her hips—essentially anything that was going to enhance her assets.

The method was working wonders on the curator she had cornered.

Augustus held back near the windows and pretended to be checking out the sculpture garden outside, catching a glimpse of her blonde hair and black and red outfit's reflection in the window to keep an eye on in the meantime so he'd know if something went wrong with...whatever she was planning.

She slipped off her black leather jacket (something he couldn't believe she was wearing in this heat,) slowly letting it drop down her arms as she kept talking and glanced around as if she didn't even notice herself doing it (ah, another part of the tactic) before picking it off to lay over her crossed wrists in front of her—no doubt pressing her arms tight to the sides of her chest.

She knew exactly how to play this guy and he had not caught on.

Within moments, he was leading her back into the blocked off exhibit. She spun around to Augustus who turned his attention likewise back to her as she flashed him a huge smile and two thumbs up. He gave her a thumbs up back but couldn't manage the smile, trying hard to instead give her a nod of encouragement over the look of bewilderment as he desperately was trying to figure out what exactly she was thinking.

As she disappeared behind the screen barrier the curator had unlocked (and then subsequently reclosed and locked), Augustus resumed waiting at the window, uncertain of what else to do. There was no further sign of Regina and the Chosen—they must have been looking for some way to steal the keys off another curator or guard to get into the exhibit.

He leaned up against a wall besides the windows and caught a glance up above to the next floor, spotting Final Girl and Criss Darren on the balcony. Final Girl was giving one last crane of her neck over the space where the exhibit would be, then following after Criss Darren (who made sure she was still with him) towards another path up there. It seemed there was no way to see into the exhibit from above, either.

The dynamics of the two duos fascinated Augustus, even though he had only seen them briefly. Likewise, it didn't seem like either of them were at all interested in attempting to reach out to anyone who worked at the museum to get any further information about the mask besides where the exhibit was. They were just running around to solve the puzzle they built for themselves. Brianna at least found someone to ask for help from. Did Mr. Grub never train them how to use human resources, just survival ones?

(It sure would explain why they thought the only friends they could have were each other.)

Eventually, Brianna and the curator emerged, with the curator red in the face and barely able to look at Brianna while she was absolutely beaming. She touched his arm and thanked him profusely as he just mumbled something back and relocked the frosted screen. With her jacket slung over her other arm and hand, she hurried back over to Augustus, still smiling wide.

"Excellent work, Daphne," he teased when she reached his side.

"Thank you, Velma," she said, "and we can go now."

"Go?" he asked.

"Yeah, let's go," she said, hooking her free arm with his and pulling him along as she started back towards the museum entrance. He stumbled along with her, but in time caught his step.

"I— okay, sure," he stammered, "what happened? Did you see the mask?"

"Mm-hm!" she hummed. "And that guy was so nice! I convinced him to show the exhibit to me early because..." she glanced around with a sly grin, "...I 'really wanted to see it.'"

"Uh-huh."

"Yeah, he thought I was, like, really interested in history."

"But you were really interested in..."

She gave him a look. "...the mask? Duh?"

"Oh," he nodded, "right."

"Yeah," she shook her head, "except I think he got the wrong idea because I think he thought I wanted to make out at one point and so he got super flustered and embarrassed which is why he was so red when we came back out and, like, if we weren't in the middle of something I totally would've, definitely, but, like, we're busy. I'm busy—we've got stuff to do, places to be." Her eyes went wide and she poked Augustus's chest. "Real quick—can you text everybody? We gotta leave."

"What—? Uh, sure—but why?" he said as he pulled out his phone.

"Because of the mask! Are you not listening?" she whispered.

"You said you saw it?" he said.

"Yeah!"

He stared at her and she stared back, eyes growing wider as his grew more confused. He shook his head and turned his attention to his phone, texting the group.

Brianna says we can leave.

—Augustus (4:19pm)

Everyone coalesced at the entrance within moments, Brianna not slowing down towards the exit as the rest hurried towards her and Augustus.

"What do you mean we can leave?" Regina asked.

"We can go!" Brianna replied, still making her beeline to the door.

"We haven't seen the mask, Brianna," the Chosen said, trying to keep his voice low.

"Brianna did," Augustus replied, freeing his arm from Brianna's grip as he did.

"How did she see it?!" Final Girl asked.

"Tell you later—let's go!" Brianna insisted.

"Are you sure it was the right mask?" Criss Darren asked.

"We'll figure it out in the RV," she said with a shrug.

Regina cocked her head. "What do you mean—?"

"Hey!" a voice called from behind them.

The group snapped their heads around, Brianna the only one not stopping to do so. It was the curator from before. He threw out an accusatory finger towards Brianna.

"She stole a piece from the exhibit!" he shouted.

"I said let's go!" Brianna screamed and darted for the exit. Within moments, the rest of the group bolted after her.

It turned out, in a race between adrenaline and anger, adrenaline wins. The Jokes, Brianna, and Augustus got across to the far end of the parking lot and into the RV before the curator and the guards got halfway. And by the time Regina got the RV revved and running, they couldn't risk stopping them from getting on the road.

Regina peeled out of the parking lot, RV practically toppling from how hard she took the turn.

"Why did you steal it?!" she screamed back to Brianna.

"Isn't that what you were doing?!" Brianna shouted back from the sofa.

"No!" the Jokes all shouted at once.

"Girl, we just wanted to see it!" Criss Darren said.

"Now we're gonna be stuck on the run because you had to be an idiot!" Final Girl said.

"You all could have stopped her and taken it back in!" Augustus argued. "You all are supposed to be trained child soldiers or some ridiculous equivalent—and she's in heels!"

"Everyone, stop!" the Chosen interrupted, catching their attentions. He looked to Brianna. "What I'm about to say is not to call you dumb, so please do not take it as such."

"I feel like a lot of people are doing that right now," Brianna whined.

"Well, it might be true," Final Girl muttered.

"Final Girl," the Chosen warned. She crossed her arms and looked away, leaning against the back of the passenger seat. He turned back to the group as a whole. "The issue is that we aren't even sure yet if she took the right mask."

There was silence in the cabin, then everyone turned to Brianna. She hesitated and swallowed hard before gently pulling her leather jacket off her lap, revealing the mask in her hidden hand.

She held up a black mask with white details outlining the eyes and features. Upon the head were two antlers made of dense fibers. The Jokes within the cabin stared deeply into it. As they did, Augustus felt the air of the cabin grow still, their faces grow pale.

"It's the right one, isn't it?" Regina called from the driver's seat, not having taken her eyes off the road as she sped down the highway. Her voice was cold.

They stayed quiet for a time.

"Yes," the Chosen replied.

Regina nodded. "Then we drive."

***

The Chosen sat in the passenger seat, holding the mask in his hands. It had been an hour and a half of driving and they hadn't figured out what to do with it. Likewise, recapturing the air of how the trip had been before they had gotten it felt like a Sisyphean task. It seemed like an omen even having it.

And he didn't like staring into its empty eyes, either, but he couldn't stop doing that in spite of himself.

"Just put it in the cabinet above you already," Regina said. He glanced over to her, then gave in and stood up, popping open the door above the windshields and sliding it in the compartment. It fit fine.

"It feels wrong putting something ancient in a cupboard," he said as he sat back down.

"As long as it doesn't fall out, I think the ancients will forgive us," she said, "it's not like we're putting it in the bathroom."

They sat in silence again (aside from the quiet music.) The Chosen chanced a glance back over his shoulder, but it was the same as when he last checked—Augustus and Brianna were back in the bedroom (neither wanted to talk to anyone else since she felt bad for getting everyone in trouble and Augustus was mad at everyone for being mad at her, but at least they hadn't shut the door,) and Criss Darren and Final Girl were at the booth looking through her library book.

Suddenly, Green Day was interrupted—something Regina was only playing since the Chosen was sitting up there with her. A harsh ring rang through the speakers and, for the first time that he noticed since he had been sitting besides her, Regina's attention left the road. Panic flashed in her eyes as she looked at her phone.

"Who's calling?" he asked as she denied the call.

"No one," she lied.

He watched her.

The song resumed—then cut off again as the ring started once more. Regina swallowed and glanced at the phone again.

"Are you okay, Regina?" he asked.

She shifted to sit up straight in her seat and took a deep breath, ignoring his question. He watched her fingers shake as she cleared her throat and swiped to answer the call.

"Hi, daddy," she started. Just enough for the Chosen to notice, the shake extended from her fingers to her voice.

"Hi, pumpkin," Regina's father greeted over the RV speaker. Regina grimaced, too in her head to have remembered to take it off of Bluetooth, "your mother's here with me."

"Hi, sweetie!" Regina's mother said, voice saccharine.

"Hi, mom," Regina replied.

"How's the road trip?" her father asked.

"Good."

"What have you done?" he asked.

"Not much."

"Really?"

"Me and the girls have almost gotten to the Grand Canyon at this point and we'll probably spend the night there."

"Oh yeah?" her mother asked.

"Mm-hm."

"Because your phone's location says your in Camp Verde, Arizona. And I know you know a better route to the Canyon," she asked.

Regina slammed her head back against her seat and grit her teeth, the reaction making the Chosen shoot up in his own seat in concern, especially as she gripped the wheel tight enough to turn her knuckles white. A sudden shuffling sounded behind them as Criss Darren and Final Girl got up from the booth, coming up to the front to find out what was going on. Regina motioned to them to stay quiet.

"We're taking a kind of roundabout way because Tracy wanted to go through Phoenix," Regina replied, doing her best to keep up the girlish facade that nothing was wrong in her voice, "you know how she is—always wanting to do things her way."

"Of course," her father responded, paused, then added: "and her way happens to include staying home?"

Regina fell against the steering wheel, eyes still up on the road and fingers tight to it. But in moments she recollected herself enough to look back to Final Girl and point in panic to her phone, mouthing to her to "Turn off the location!" Final Girl nodded and got on her knees besides Regina, holding her breath as she slid through the settings on the screen.

"Regina," her mother started, "just tell us you're not with those little adventurer friends of yours."

Regina was silent.

"Because if you are—"

"I'm an adult," Regina said, the words coming out like a hiccup.

There was silence from the phone. Final Girl's fingers hovered over the screen after she cut off the location, afraid she had hung it up.

"Regina, we were contacted by the authorities in Phoenix over what happened, and they know it was your credit card that purchased the tickets," her father said, "if you turn them over, we won't cancel that card or report the RV as stolen."

Regina stared at the road in front of her. Slowly, she eased herself back upright in her seat.

"Report it," she said, then hung up the call.

For a few moments, everyone aside from Regina held their breaths, waiting for it to ring again. No ring came.

"Do you need us to cover more gas?" Criss Darren asked. "If they cancel your card..."

"No," Regina said, "I wasn't using that one for the RV. I have an account they don't know about that I've been budgeting money into for years for...emergencies...that I'm using for fuel so they couldn't track where we were." She eyed the phone. "Which would've been perfect if I remembered..." she shook her head, "but it's whatever." She paused. "I'd appreciate it if someone could cover my food though. I don't want to risk using the cards on my other accounts."

They all nodded without hesitation, then went quiet again.

"How many accounts are they on?" Final Girl asked.

Regina's stare was dead out on the highway. "All of them. Including my business." She sighed. "Always have been."

***

7:46pm.

If Sarah Christ ever stopped working, she'd have been mad.

When she got the call from her boss that there was a stolen RV involved in a robbery across state lines, she knew it wasn't going to be a conventional case. That's why her boss called her in on it specifically—she was used to tracking people down.

And in between shouting about where his coffee was, she saw his point.

"If you keep just focusing on the Creekside Killer and don't take nothin' else, it's gonna go to your head," he said, "you're gonna end up a nutjob and off my force—and I ain't gonna lose you, Christ."

Then he went back to looking for his coffee (he tended to have a one track mind.) But between that, he got his philosophy in.

She shut her flip phone and dropped her cigarette on the ground, stamping it out even though she hadn't taken a drag (she'd quit smoking a couple weeks ago, but still lit them anyway.) She'd be a bit behind these criminals, but she'd catch up. An RV couldn't go too fast, and she'd been on the roads more than they ever could have nightmares of. It'd take some hours, maybe a day or two, but she'd get them. From what one of the boys at the precinct gathered from one of the crooks' posts on Tiktok, they were headed to Boston. (They must not have been very clever if they were posting their crimes, but most criminals weren't aside from the Creekside Killer.)

As she tucked her badge on its chain into her jacket so it didn't catch on all the equipment inside, she swung the door of the van open, making the man sequestered amongst the devices and underneath a brick of a laptop jump.

"I gave you a secret knock," Redacted said, "you're supposed to use it before you enter the van."

Sarah glared at him, slack jawed before replying with: "It's my van. Besides you, I'm the only one who gets in it."

"You don't know that—there could be agents getting in it when we don't know it and implanting devices when we aren't aware to spy on us," he argued.

"There better not be," she said, "because, as far as I'm aware, you never leave this van. You've made that abundantly clear, so you better notice if someone else is gettin' in it."

"They have invisibility technology! It's the government!"

Sarah took a deep breath and shook her head before pulling herself into the van and slamming the door shut behind her to maneuver up to the front. The driver and passenger doors were unfortunately always locked now (Redacted wouldn't let her unlock them even if it was a safety hazard,) so the only way in and out was that side panel door.

"Nevermind—we're moving out," Sarah told him, taking her spot at the driver's seat, "some kids robbed a museum and stole an RV and we've gotta track them down."

"Uh, no we're not?! I haven't finished installing blockades so satellites can't track us!" he said, scrambling up to sit behind her.

"You can finish it on the drive—"

"I absolutely cannot! This is something that has to be done—"

"Look—" she spun around to confront him, faces inches apart and glares matching each other's, "—I told you that if you wanted to move into my van instead of my house like I wanted, that you'd have to go with me when I got called out for my job."

"Because I wanted to make sure that you Feds weren't doing your usual cover ups," he snapped.

"But you agreed," she said.

He frowned.

"We're going," she said and turned back around, revving the engine.

Chapter Text

The original plan for the trip had included taking stops for each of the nights they'd be on the road, but now it seemed like a good idea to drive through the night to put as much distance between themselves and Phoenix as possible. Regina's parents didn't say who exactly they were reporting the RV stolen to and they didn't know how egregious of a crime stealing from a museum was (did it classify as a felony or just a misdemeanor?) so they weren't sure how high up the chain of command they were running from just yet.

Criss Darren considered reaching out to his dad, but he wasn't sure if he knew yet, nor did he feel like letting anyone else in the RV know he could get his dad involved if it was an option. It wasn't really a fact he broadcast that his dad was ex-Secret Service, and it didn't feel like it would make the ride go any smoother if they did know.

(Final Girl was the only one who did know, and that was from his dad himself. She understood it wasn't something to go around telling people, and it didn't seem to be something on her mind, especially now that she was up focusing on driving.)

Regina had finally taken her break after they stopped for fuel in Gallup, New Mexico. In addition to her initial drive out from the Chosen's mom's house that morning, she had spent nearly seven hours driving, so it was understandable she had crashed hard on the bed in the back. Plus the stress of her parents' call hadn't helped the exhaustion she must have been facing. Criss Darren, though, had no doubt she was planning to drive again the next day, and she had likewise left her card and its PIN sitting on the RV's dashboard for any stops for diesel they made while she slept.

He stared up at the dashboard console from the sofa he was lounged on with the library book under one of the lights beneath a cabinet above him, dim enough that it didn't interfere with Final Girl's driving from back where he was but still bright enough he could see by. Regina's determination to get to Boston was intriguing. She was the one that was just a week ago insisting none of them ever see Mr. Grub again, yet she was doing everything in her power to make sure they got there. Was it to spite her parents?

No, that couldn't be it. If that was it, she would have found something simpler to annoy them with, surely. Maybe close all her accounts with them on them and open new ones. Take them off of her business. Change her name from O'Brien to...O'Neill. (He wasn't the one trying to spite his parents; he didn't know what would work.)

Did she change her mind? Was it just to see Mr. Grub? Well, then she would have simply bought them plane tickets and they would have been in Boston already. Admittedly, they wouldn't have gotten to see the mask, but they would've seen Mr. Grub if that was her goal.

Something pulled all of it more deeply together. And, perhaps, it was simpler than he was making it out to be.

Maybe Criss Darren had just never realized how much Mr. Grub's mentor role had meant to her.

"—so you're telling me you only know the songs people used to clown on?" Final Girl asked to Augustus from the front, interrupting Criss Darren's thoughts. Augustus was sat besides her in the passenger seat, form periodically illuminated by headlights from cars on the other side of the desert highway.

He scoffed but Criss Darren could see him trying not to stumble over being unprepared for the challenge. "I wouldn't say that was all I know."

"Name me any other songs besides 'Gimme Chocolate' and 'line!,' right now," she insisted.

Criss Darren stared at the back of Final Girl's seat. She was going down the Babymetal rabbithole. Again.

He thought he was free, and yet...

Brianna, who was sitting at the booth with the Chosen (slid into the same one as him, actually) lowered her phone from the selfie she was taking and glanced back over her shoulder towards the front with a confused grin hearing Augustus struggle to name another song. She looked to the Chosen.

"What are they talking about?" she whispered. His attention finally broke from his Switch, game reflecting in his sunglasses before he shrugged to her. She giggled and turned to Criss Darren. "Do you know?"

"It's a band she loves," Criss Darren explained. Brianna nodded, still smiling.

"You can't even name a third song!" Final Girl said.

"I can! Just give me a minute!" Augustus laughed.

"You had a minute!" she said.

"Regina's sleeping," Criss Darren warned, leaning up towards them.

There was silence for a time up front.

"Why are you friends with Regina, by the way?" Augustus began to ask Final Girl. "Didn't her friends—?"

"She's not the person her high school friends brainwashed her to be," she snapped, then paused again. She started to tap through her phone screen. "You're getting an education."

"Oh! An education," Augustus mused.

"Girl..." Criss Darren started.

"It's 9:52, that's after 3:00! I can play metal," she argued.

"That's not what I meant," Criss Darren said.

She huffed as the music started, a foreboding but heavenly choir only loud enough to be slightly heard in the cabin from the front. "It's not gonna be that loud. Regina won't hear it back there, calm down."

"Okay, okay." Criss Darren laid back down against the sofa.

Augustus looked to Final Girl. "Um, why can't you play metal before 3:00?"

"Apartment rule," Final Girl explained, "Criss Darren hates metal."

"It's noise," he said.

"You're noise," she said, "anyway, this is called 'Babymetal Death' and it's the first song from their first album when they were literally children and would perform it live by putting their lead singer on a cross and mock crucify her on stage."

"Are you serious?" Augustus asked with a laugh.

"Dead serious," Final Girl replied, "these girls are more legit metal than you can ever dream and they started when they were 13 and 11—or younger depending on when you count it."

Criss Darren sighed. She was going to go through the whole history.

And, to his dismay, she did. She had apparently turned on the albums in order, off of shuffle, and only skipping ones she didn't feel like were important to the "education" or were ones she personally didn't like that much. In between all of that was, of course, the entire breakdown of how the band came to be, how they got legitimized by touring with other metal bands like Metallica and Judas Priest, getting endorsed by others like Rob Zombie, ad infinitum through the years until they weren't some odd gimmick of adorable school girls doing metal and instead created their own place in metal—including carving out their own subgenre.

Augustus, for his own part, was fascinated. Collecting knowledge must have been his thing, and getting challenged on something he truly didn't know enough about must have been new. Of course, now this meant he had the ability to trap people into testing their knowledge on this new niche he discovered, but Criss Darren hoped he wasn't going to just use it for that. (And it sounded like Final Girl had a good time rattling off everything she knew, even if Criss Darren was sick of hearing it all.)

"Yeah, their last album sucked," Final Girl said, "I hated The Other One and the build up to it was awful, especially since it wasn't their first concept album despite how much they kept advertising it like that—that honor should go to Metal Galaxy because it had a concept you could follow with how it represented different styles of metal through the different songs which fit the idea of it being a whole galaxy of metal as they kept insisting and then had the interconnected songs they call the 'Trilogy of Lights' at the end—"

"The ones that made you cry," Augustus interrupted.

Final Girl paused.

"I didn't cry—" she started.

"You cried a little."

"I didn't cry—"

"It literally says 'No more cry' in the lyrics, and yet—"

"Shut up," she said, making him laugh, "anyway—yeah, The Other One isn't a good album, but I'm not surprised because Kobametal, the manager I've kind of talked about, half thinks through ideas all the time—and now he's not even considering it a canon album which makes me want to scream. And just, like, management in any of these kinds of bands that put out this much material and tour this much freak me out because I just get worried for the singers and musicians and the people in them, you know?"

Around the corner of his book, Criss Darren spotted Brianna glance back from where she was curled up against the Chosen and playing on her phone, listening to what they were saying. The Chosen still hadn't heard a word as he continued playing his Switch.

"Just..." Final Girl continued, "at the end of the day I'm always concerned that the girls in Babymetal are doing okay, especially because they've been in it for so long. Again—they've been in it since they were literal children." Final Girl sighed. "I just hope they're happy and doing okay."

Augustus nodded. "Understandable."

Brianna's eyes turned towards the windows across from her as she thought, music still trailing through the cabin from up ahead. Eventually, she returned her focus to her phone. Criss Darren continued to eye her, but, after a while, in turn returned his own to the book.

***

At Santa Rosa, they switched drivers again. Final Girl hadn't felt comfortable using Regina's card even with her permission before she went to sleep, so made that stop her turn to pay for the trip.

Aside from the occasional semi, there was hardly anyone on the highway at that pitch black period of 2:40am. The noise was just as sparse.

Regina crept out from behind the bedroom door, sliding it behind her before the dim glow of the kitchen area's cabinet's underlights could wake up Final Girl or Criss Darren. The Chosen glanced over at her as he picked through the cabinets, brow furrowing.

"Regina," he whispered, trying not to disturb Brianna who was curled up on the sofa under the bright pink, fuzzy blanket she brought, her back to the rest of the cabin.

"Hey," Regina replied, matching his near silence.

"I thought you were sleeping," he said.

"Got tired of it," she said with a shrug and smile. He nodded. She glanced up to the front. "Is Augustus driving?"

"Yes. I was helping him stay awake but I came back to get something to eat."

"I'll trade you. You can eat back here at the table or whatever."

He cocked his head. "Are you certain you want to do that?"

"What? You think I can't handle Augustus?"

He frowned. Regina narrowed her eyes at him, then shook her head with a grin and patted his shoulder.

"Get food. I'll be fine," she said and slipped past him. The Chosen watched her wander onwards.

Augustus had his eyes trained ahead, which was good to see. Regina knew he had only heard a brief overview of how to drive the RV, so wasn't sure how well he'd take to it, but he looked like he was handling it fine. Hopefully he had studied someone else driving it before he took it over himself, and, if anything, she'd be sitting here for a bit to make sure to fill in the parts he missed.

She eased herself into the passenger seat, catching his attention (twice, actually, once he realized it wasn't the Chosen coming back.)

"I'm sorry," he started, "weren't you sleeping?"

"Criss Darren apparently kicks in his sleep," she replied, watching the empty and dark landscapes around them, "he's gotta perform in his dreams just like when he's awake."

She glanced over to Augustus who let his scowl shift back to the road.

"Okay," she said, "tough crowd."

"I'm not your crowd," he said.

She nodded with tight pressed lips. Silence swelled up, only interrupted when Regina's ear picked up the quiet music playing through the speakers (definitely turned down to make sure it didn't reach back to Brianna on the sofa.)

"What are we listening to?" Regina asked. Augustus did not reply. Regina sighed, then pulled out her phone from her pj pants pocket and held it up. After a moment, she checked the screen. "Ah...Cha-vurches."

"It's pronounced Churches," he said.

"Why does it have a 'v' in it?"

He huffed. "What do you want?"

"I'm helping keep you awake."

"You're being obnoxious."

"That's what I do," she said, leaning over and smiling at him. He shot her another glare, but soon turned his attention back to the road. Her smile turned from antagonizing to genuine when she noticed. Even in the face of a distraction like herself, he knew what was important at least. That was good instinct. She could trust him to drive.

"Was the reason you bullied people in high school to be obnoxious?" Augustus asked.

Her smile vanished. She turned to watch the highway, setting her phone back in her lap.

"No," she said, "that was because...I thought I was better than them. And it made me feel better to make them feel worse."

"Did it?" he asked.

"At the time."

"And now?"

She took a deep breath. "I wish I didn't know my younger self. Because there's almost nothing she did I wish I remembered."

"And I bet everyone who knew her agrees. Because everything they remember her doing is torture," he said. He gave a quick glance over to her. "How come Final Girl handles being around you? I know your gang of cheerleaders were ruthless to her."

Regina shrugged. "I don't know. I think it's because I wasn't the one that targeted her—that was Tracy. I only found out the bits and pieces of it after I graduated and...couldn't really do anything about it." Her jaw clenched, remembering the slight details she had been told. "If I knew sooner, I would have—"

She felt the case of her phone jerk and she glanced down, seeing, in the flash of a semi's lights, the grip her fist had taken on her phone crack the side of the case to break its edge and the back pop off. As subtle as she could, she fumbled to put it back together.

"—made sure they left her alone," Regina finished.

"What about everyone else?" Augustus asked.

"I would've fixed that, too," she said.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I should've done it then, but I was selfish, too focused on being the center of attention that I forgot to pay attention."

Augustus was quiet. Regina clicked her case back together.

"Wanting to doesn't make up for it," he said.

She frowned. "I know."

They sat in silence for a while. Regina turned and watched Augustus for a bit, studying him in the light whenever ones would pass. She set her chin on her hand as she did, catching his notice with a quick side eye, though he said nothing.

"So, your hair," she started.

He rolled his eyes. "What?"

"Is the greasiness because you don't wash it or is it always like that?" she asked. "Because I've got solutions for both."

"And here I thought you said you wanted to change your ways," he mocked.

"I'm being serious."

"And why would you care?"

"Because I'm a licensed esthetician—people pay me to care and you'd be getting this information for free?"

"I only trust people I'd give good reviews."

Regina picked up her phone and pulled up her business page, showing off her reviews. As she scrolled through all the positive posts and five stars, Augustus eyed them, then returned his attention to the highway.

"I said I'd give good reviews," he repeated, "not randos on the internet."

Regina watched him, a subtle smile growing on her face that blossomed wider as she considered what he said and how.

"Well," she started, "the only way you'll know if you can give me a good review is if you tell me what I need to hear and try out what I offer."

She studied him close, seeing the logic trap him. The facade of his braggadocio cracked for the briefest moment and he was quiet, and she let her own smile dwindle just to show she truly wasn't trying to make fun of him.

"I've tried a lot of things and nothing really works and it doesn't really go away," Augustus finally said, voice quieter.

Regina nodded and thought for a moment, then got up and disappeared back into the cabin. Soon enough, she reappeared and took her seat again, holding out a tall gray bottle of shampoo towards him.

"Try this," she said, "and if it doesn't work, you can tell me 'I told you so.'"

He eyed it. "You promise?"

"You can even say it in front of everyone," she said.

After a beat, the smirk she was growing familiar with crossed his face for the first time since she came to sit up front with him and he took the bottle from her. "I'll take you up on that and try out your concoction."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "I didn't make it, but whatever."

***

6:12am.

While the attendants currently working the registers at the Flying J outside Gallup, New Mexico hadn't been on duty the evening before when the RV would have come through, the manager let Sarah Christ check the CCTV footage after she showed him her badge. Scrolling through the rough times they would've been through and—bingo: the blonde Tiktok bimbo and the kid with the sunglasses she had apparently posted on Instagram about. A weird pair, but she was one to talk.

"Culprits confirmed at the Flying J alongside I-40," Sarah spoke into the voice recorder in her hand as she studied the map spread out on the hood of the van, "judging by the direction their van took out of the parking lot, they continued East on the same highway, most likely heading towards—"

"Are you still using an electric voice recorder or did you move to tapes like I told you to?" Redacted questioned, sticking his head out the window. (The doors had to be locked, but they could at least roll the windows down. They were crank handles—that made it permissible...for some reason.)

Sarah sighed and stopped the recording. "You've gotta give me one pass. Those mini cassettes don't have enough space on them for what I need to get done."

"The electronic frequencies are going to interrupt the neurons in your brain and rewire your thoughts," he replied.

Not if you do it first, she thought to herself.

No computers were allowed in the van besides his, and even his hadn't been updated since 2011 when he started prepping for the 2012 apocalypse that never came (but he was convinced it still did, just different than people realized. Or it was wiped from everyone's memories. It depended on the day how he told it.) Sarah had to keep her case notes on a voice recorder since she couldn't risk writing them down and either him altering them or, worse, burning them. She caught him doing that once when he convinced himself they were full of hidden messages from an assassin taunting him, so she also had to make sure she kept the recorder on her person at all times.

She still caught him trying to pickpocket it from her about once a week.

(He was also why she couldn't use a GPS since he was convinced it was tracking them. That one was a little more more believable, and thankfully she was used to reading paper maps. It was easy to adjust to that one, though he was convinced a fraction of all towns on paper maps were fake.)

"Can you just roll up your window?" she asked.

"No—I need to know if you're talking about me."

"I'm not talking about you."

"How will I know that if I don't have the window open?"

"Can you just eat the Cinnabon I got you from inside and let me work for a minute?" she asked.

"Not until I make sure you're actually doing your job and not hiding something I need to pay my full attention to."

Sarah watched him for a moment.

"Did you know that the mystery flavors of candy are actually just the leftovers of each of the flavor vats mixed together so they don't waste it?" she asked.

He scoffed. "Like Big Food cares about waste."

"Have you looked it up?" she insisted.

Redacted eyed her, then reached back over the seat to grab his laptop and cracked it open. Sarah took a deep breath and turned back to her map, starting her recording again to get the rest of her thoughts back in before he got his answers.

It felt a bit cruel to tell him lies he'd try to disprove to get him to quit bothering her when she needed to work, but sometimes it was the only way. He'd go down a rabbithole, and she'd get five or ten minutes to think. A win-win—when it didn't spiral into a new conspiracy. (She had started trying to pick less damaging lies to entice him with.)

At least he hadn't started to pick up on the ruse of it. The moment he did, she'd have no way to keep him or her sanity in check.

As she finished and folded up the map, she lifted her head and watched him throw the box of cinnamon rolls out the window.

"What—?" Sarah started.

"Icing is a carcinogen," Redacted interrupted.

She stared at the cinnamon rolls, broken and splayed out across the sun bleached asphalt. She wanted a cigarette so bad.

***

The Chosen was nudged awake by his shoulder, grimacing under his sunglasses against the early morning sunlight streaming through the blinds twisted partially open and built within the windows on either side of the RV cabin. He tightened his crossed arms against his chest as he readjusted his back on the wall where he was stretched out in the booth, finally looking over to where Brianna was leaned over the back of it to put her hand on his shoulder in the first place.

"Hi!" she whispered. "We stopped at a coffee place, and I know you don't like coffee but they have, like, smoothies and stuff, too. Do you want anything?"

The Chosen took a moment to process what she said, then shook his head. Brianna smiled back.

"Okay! We'll be back in a minute!" she said and stood back up as the Chosen went back to sleep.

Regina slipped out from the back bedroom, watching Brianna hurry back up to the front where Augustus was waiting. Brianna was already decked out in her usual getup and heels (of course she was already dressed up for the morning, she never went anywhere not thumbnail ready) and Regina had changed out of her pjs into her own new set of clothes (not Brianna levels of flashy, but definitely still Regina's stylish.) Augustus was still in the clothes from the day before—but to be fair, he had just finished driving over four and a half hours.

"I got the sleepyheads' orders," Regina told them, "are we ready?"

Brianna and Augustus nodded and the three started to head off the RV. Augustus handed Regina's card back to her as they did.

"Here's this back," he said, "I paid for the last stop."

"Oh, okay," she said, and took the card.

"And Final Girl paid for the one before that," he added.

"So neither of you used my card?"

"Correct." He held the coffee house door open for the girls. Brianna hurried inside, clapping her hands.

"So why'd I leave it out?"

"For fun."

"Oh my gosh," Regina laughed. Augustus smiled at her as the two headed in.

After the three ordered for themselves and Regina ordered for Criss Darren and Final Girl (Criss Darren had given her his card for the three of them,) Regina and Augustus hung out at a table while Brianna wandered about, taking videos and pictures of the little cafe on her phone.

"Are you sure you wanted to come in and didn't want us to just get your stuff for you? You look exhausted," Regina asked him.

"Oh, don't worry about me," Augustus assured her with a wave of his hand, "as a veteran MMO player, I am accustomed to pulling all-nighters. I can manage." He paused. "I will crash as soon as I finish eating though."

Regina laughed and shook her head, then said: "Well, by the time we get back to the RV, Final Girl and Criss Darren are probably going to be out of the back, so you can take that. I bet Chosen's probably going to be back there, too, but I doubt that'll bother you." Augustus shook his head. "Yeah, I figured not."

"I didn't take Final Girl for a morning person," he said.

"She's not, but she doesn't miss coffee," Regina said, "I guarantee she's gonna drink this and then go immediately back to sleep."

"That's impressive."

"I think 90% of her blood is caffeine."

Augustus watched her. "You seem to know a lot about your friends."

"I pride myself on understanding people," Regina said, then paused, "I...think part of it came from needing—" she stopped herself, "—choosing to find ways to get under people's skin more effectively."

Augustus nodded.

"Do you think...?" he started, but hesitated.

"You can say it," she said, "whatever it is."

"Was that what your parents did to you? Is that how you learned it?"

Regina pursed her lips.

"The Chosen told me what happened," he said, "before you got back up."

"Yeah, I figured he might've," she said, then answered, "maybe."

They went silent for a while. Augustus wasn't sure how to proceed and Regina had looked away from him. When he did feel he should try to speak, he spotted her getting up from her seat.

"I wasn't trying to—" he started.

"I know," she replied, "they're bringing our orders out."

"I'm not trying to upset you," he insisted.

Regina looked back at him, a quirk in her brow as she did.

"I know," she repeated. The gentleness was there, and it was strange to him. "Let's go get food."

***

The coffee didn't do much for Final Girl even though she had Regina get her two.

After the first one, she had fallen asleep in the booth (the Chosen had gone back to sleep in the bedroom after Criss Darren and her had vacated it just like Regina predicted,) and the second one was keeping her only awake enough to hold her head up by her hand. Her eyes were slits and everything was blurry shapes through them—if she hadn't studied the layout of the RV the day before, she'd have no idea what she was looking at. To her credit, she was really trying to wake up. She hadn't even put her music in and was trying to focus on the sounds around her instead of drowning them out.

The most obvious ones were up front: Brianna was driving and Regina was with her, and they had switched from listening to the Slashes and Lashes podcast to one of the Jonas Brothers (or maybe all of them, Final Girl couldn't tell the difference.) The high pitch laughter of Brianna as they talked while Regina tried to control her own as she kept Brianna's attention in check on the road made the hair on the back of Final Girl's neck stand up. If anything was going to get her awake, that was probably it. It made her anxiety spike.

She shifted away from Brianna's voice and heard Criss Darren turn another page in front of her as he lounged in the booth, back to the side window. Still deep in the book. He must have gone through it twice at that point. What else was there to investigate? She supposed it was just him being thorough—he'd study his scripts a half dozen times before he'd start saying them aloud to get an idea for all the characters even if his own role was small. He said he wanted to know the world to know his own place in it better; it added to how he played his part. Maybe something about reading the book so many times told him more about what the Gentlemen were to the world, even if just in that part of it.

A shift on the sofa to her left. The Chosen must have gotten uncomfortable with how he was sitting playing his Switch again. Apparently he had been trying to beat Breath of the Wild again (she asked him a bit ago when she was first trying to wake up but couldn't ask many follow up questions since she was drifting off too much.) Since he had gone to sleep out in the cabin not long after Regina had gotten up in the middle of the night, he didn't have a problem being up again now at eleven-o-whatever (the two hour time difference meant nothing to her; it was still nine to her body.)

"Regina!" Augustus called to the front from behind Final Girl, making her cringe. He was so loud sometimes. "I thought you said there was fruit snacks?"

Augustus got up not long after the Chosen did. Final Girl figured either gamers didn't sleep much or they traveled in pairs. Maybe that's also why the Chosen bounced back so much after struggling so much with being up early the day before.

"Yeah, in the cabinet," Regina called back.

"Uh—not that I see," he replied.

"Try the other one. I'm not your mom; I'm not gonna come look for you."

"I'll have you know, my mother raised me to be very self sufficient," he said. A cabinet whipped open. "Still nothing!"

"There should be dried mango slices in one of them!"

"That is not fruit snacks."

"It's fruit and it's a snack!"

"It's not the same—!"

"I've got a box of Scooby-Doo ones in my backpack," Final Girl interrupted. She couldn't stand the shouting back and forth anymore. "Plus Hi-Chews from the gas station."

"That's what I'm talking about," Augustus said.

"Whatever," Regina replied.

Criss Darren shifted in his seat ahead of Final Girl. "Oh—Scooby-Doo fruit snacks. Very fancy."

Final Girl held out a hand to him, curling her fingers in as she counted off her list. "Everything tastes better off brand except five specific things: Scooby-Doo fruit snacks, Double Stuf Oreos specifically, Orville Redenbacher's but only the kettle corn flavor, Ovaltine, and a narrow selection of very specific cereal brands that are near impossible if not entirely impossible to find off brand."

She sensed Augustus lean over the back of the booth besides her.

"You didn't happen to also be raised by a single parent, did you?" he asked.

She heard Criss Darren shut the book as her own eyes finally shot open. Criss Darren was staring straight ahead with tightly pursed lips. Final Girl held back the urge to snap at Augustus like she wanted.

"I'm gonna go get those snacks," she said and pushed out of the booth, not looking at Augustus despite how close he was.

"Okay!" he said, pulling back from the booth.

***

12:39pm.

The last reported location of the group was Elk City, Oklahoma, so that's where Sarah Christ was headed. But for now, she was stuck in bumper to bumper traffic on the highway through Amarillo, Texas since no one besides her apparently knew how to drive.

"—time zones only exist because they don't want us to be able to truly perceive how all time actually happens all at once," Redacted continued, leaning over the seats, hands trying to lay out his thoughts in the air like he had been since they crossed the state line and the time changed. He had recognized it intrinsically. Sarah only caught on when the diatribe started. The babble was tolerable, though, since it beat all the people honking outside like it would get anyone moving faster. She would've turned on music, but...they actually just couldn't agree on what to listen to most of the time. She wouldn't listen to anyone with a criminal record and he wouldn't listen to anyone who supported a government. That didn't leave a lot of options.

"How can we have history if everything happens at once?" she asked, staring out at the dead river of cars ahead of them.

"Because history isn't real," he replied.

"Uh-huh."

"It's all manufactured by the so called historians who put it in an order that 'makes sense' when really it's just all chaos, but if we saw that, our minds would explode."

She narrowed her eyes as she considered it. "Then aren't they doing us a favor?"

"No! That's what they want you to think!"

"I'm pretty sure I don't want my mind to explode."

"If you train it, it won't."

She glanced over to him. "Are you gonna make me train it?"

"This is what I've tried to tell you you have to do. You never listen!"

"Because you keep saying I have to 'open and expand my mind'—"

"Correct—"

"—which sounds like drugs and you know I'm not taking drugs—"

"Sarah!"

"—especially on duty, and I'm always on duty—"

"It's not drugs!"

"—and if it's drugs I'd have to arrest you!"

"It's not drugs!"

"Then what is it?!"

"I'd have to walk you through it."

"Okay!" she said and threw her hands out towards the stone still traffic. "We're not going anywhere! Take me somewhere else." She paused. "In the van."

"Alright," he huffed, "close your eyes."

She blinked, looked at him, then turned back to the highway to point at it again. "No."

"You have to," he said.

"I'm driving."

"Have you put your foot on the gas at all?"

Sarah frowned.

"How long is this gonna take?" she asked.

"Time isn't real," he replied.

"Redacted," she snapped.

He was quiet for a moment.

"Not long," he said, "it's just an introduction to it."

She sighed. "You're gonna tell me if a single car moves, you got that?"

"Fine," he said, "close your eyes."

Sarah took a deep breath and shut her eyes.

"Focus on all the sounds and things you can feel, no matter how small," he instructed, "notice them all at once, not in a specific order or as words, just sensations. Abstractions. Words are what put them in time, make them perceived as having continuity, but if you accept them all at once, it gives them the chaos they were meant to have."

Sarah tried. At first, she was stuck on the ones she had noticed before picking them apart to pieces. The honking of the cars outside with a couple intermittent shouts between drivers, the hum of her own van, Redacted's own voice before he stopped speaking. There was the whir of the A/C that she needed to get checked out before it conked out, especially with the heat of late September Texas air (but she hoped they weren't there for much longer.)

Then she followed what he said and tried to make the thoughts shorter. Her sweat drenched hair. The bangs sticking to her forehead. Shirt sticking to her armpits. A/C blowing on her arms. Badge chain hanging off her neck. Jacket tucked by her leg. Ankle tired as it hung over the brake. Fingers dangling at the bottom of the sticky steering wheel. Redacted shifting behind right shoulder. Semi rumbling out left window.

It was still too long, too...in order.

"How do I..." she started, "...let it be...?"

"What?" he asked.

"Abstract?"

Quiet. Steady breathing. Thought.

"Stop thinking," he replied.

She nodded. Ponytail brushed neck. Stop thinking.

Deep breath.

Honk car shout hum whir hot sweat bangs sweat A/C arms chain neck jacket legs ankle brake fingers rumble window—

"Cars are moving," he said, snapping her out of it. Her eyes shot open and her hands were back on the wheel—she hadn't even realized they fell from it. The van moseyed forward amongst the other inching vehicles along the highway lanes. Redacted watched her. "So?"

"What?" she asked.

"What did you experience?" he asked.

"I experienced..." she started, "...time moving from 12:47 to 12:48."

He glared at her. "You're hopeless."

Redacted ducked away into the back of the van as Sarah smiled. She would admit, though, it was a nice meditation. She'd give him that much.

***

Regina was back to driving after they stopped in Tulsa for fuel—both for the RV and themselves (they got lunch.) Brianna, of course, had somehow found directions to a sushi place in the middle of the city and Regina had a near panic attack helping her navigate the mammoth of an RV through downtown.

Criss Darren noticed, though, that Final Girl hadn't said much the entire time they were at the restaurant. Instead, she was focused on her phone. She would look up for a while, then, as soon as she heard it buzz, her attention was away and back down to it beneath the table. No one else had paid it much attention—Regina, Brianna, and Augustus talked enough for everyone and Criss Darren recognized that it was best if he covered for Final Girl if conversation floated in their direction. She had positioned herself at the end of the table behind him away from most of the group and across from the Chosen who would have the least amount of overwhelming energy for her to deal with. Criss Darren spotted him a couple times checking on her, but for the most part let her be (kind enough, at least.) Meanwhile, Criss Darren kept up his position of fielding the conversation and subtly blocking her off with his body as she sat sunken down in her chair.

It wasn't better when they got back on the road. He watched her from the booth where she was curled up in the passenger seat by Regina, still glued to her phone. Regina was trying to talk to her, but Final Girl wasn't responding aside from mumbles, lips barely moving if at all.

There was only one person Final Girl would be texting—her dad. He was her anxiety lifeline. They had lunch once a week, a tradition they started after she moved out because she got worried about him being without her since she was his only family left. His aunt died before he was even born, his older brother had died when he was a kid, his parents had died when she was a toddler, and her mom had died when she was 13. In her mind, everything was fine as long as her dad was fine because she could be there for him.

The problem was, as Criss Darren could envision how she was seeing it in her mind, she wasn't near him. And if something happened to her all the way out here...

(Not to mention, with the museum, something kind of did happen, even if it wasn't her fault.)

It was going to be impossible to get her dad off her mind, because the only real way to do it was if her dad did it himself (which, he was a great guy, but not a miracle worker,) or if she got home.

What would've been better is if her family never got put in her mind in the first place.

Criss Darren shifted in his seat as he prepared to pretend to look through the book again, glancing over at Augustus who was sat across the booth from him watching HunterxHunter on his phone. It would have been so easy to not have brought it up.

He turned his eyes to the book, but instead had his attention on the people around him as he had the last few times he had it out while in the cabin. He had gotten all he could out of it—at this point, the next best thing to do was ask Mr. Grub what he could when they got there. He had taken his notes and studied the phrasing. There wasn't much more to it that he could glean from just the one book and zero internet leads.

Another click from Brianna's phone sounded as she took yet another selfie with the Chosen who was still playing his Switch (the hyperfixation was powerful) as they sat on the sofa. Criss Darren expected to hear a few more follow, but instead she paused.

"Oh my gosh!" she gasped. Criss Darren glanced up as she held the phone close to examine the photo, one free finger gingerly brushing up her eyelashes on her right eye. "Chosen! You didn't tell me my lashes were crooked."

The Chosen looked up at her, brow furrowed. Augustus likewise looked up.

"You think he'd notice?" Augustus scoffed.

"Duh," she replied, "he's got high Perception."

"Negated in this instance," Augustus argued and pointed at the Switch, "he had Disadvantage."

Brianna looked at it and held her hand to her mouth in mock shock. "You're so right! He must've got a Nat 1."

"Precisely."

"My Passive was still in play," the Chosen argued.

"But did you notice it?" Brianna teased.

The Chosen stared at her, trying to keep up the stoic demeanor. "I was busy."

Brianna peered over to his Switch's screen, which he pulled away mere moments after she got a peek.

"You're cooking!" she said.

"I'm busy!" he said with a smile, making Brianna and Augustus laugh.

"Whatever!" she said with a roll of her eyes and got up from the sofa. "I'm gonna go fix my lashes."

She trotted off to the bathroom, leaving the three boys behind. Criss Darren watched her leave as the other two returned to how they were. After a moment, Criss Darren looked back to the Chosen.

"So what's your fascination with bleach blonde women?" he asked.

The Chosen's head shot up from his game as Augustus's own attention snapped over to Criss Darren.

"I— I do not have—" the Chosen stammered, "—what?!"

"Huh?!" Augustus asked, grin wide.

Criss Darren simply pointed ahead to Regina, then back to where Brianna disappeared to.

"No— no, that's a coincidence!" the Chosen argued. Augustus cackled.

"Are you sure?" Criss Darren asked.

"Yes! I can't help it that Regina and Brianna both happened to be blonde and women and my friends!" he said.

Criss Darren nodded slowly, covertly typing on his phone under the booth table behind his leg with his other hand. "Really?"

"Correct—yes—I met them in widely different circumstances."

"And you gravitated to both of them, yeah," Criss Darren teased and looked to Augustus to ask: "You see it, too, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Augustus nodded, "I'm on your side with this."

"Augustus!" the Chosen snapped.

Criss Darren glanced quickly to check his text.

Help me w/ this

—Criss (1:41pm)

He sent it and glanced past Augustus and as he joined in teasing the Chosen, spotting Final Girl look down to her phone, then glance back towards them and watch. She was listening.

"I'm just saying," Criss Darren said, cutting back into the conversation, "I think there's a deeper connection between why you picked Regina and Brianna to latch onto."

The Chosen shook his head. "There's not—!"

"It's 'cuz he's got a savior complex for girls who look like Zelda," Final Girl called back from the front.

As soon as the words hit them, it was chaos.

Augustus beamed and shouted back "Yes, that's exactly it!" to her as the Chosen got up and shouted "No!" right back. Final Girl grinned as Regina finally asked her what in the world was going on. Brianna stuck her head out to try and ask the same, but the Chosen told her to go away as Augustus tried to do the opposite. Criss Darren let the noise swim around him, focused on texting Final Girl again.

Thank you~ ❤️

—Criss (1:43pm)

❤️

—Final Girl (1:44pm)

He glanced back up and watched her explain what happened to Regina, then look back to her phone. He waited for his phone to buzz again, but it never came. Then he watched as she, once again, curled up in her seat and descended into focusing only on her phone.

***

Criss Darren planned to drive after Regina, so wanted to try and rest a bit before he did. Commandeering the bedroom in the back was easy—Brianna had convinced the Chosen she was fully capable of playing D&D from memory (and memory meant using Augustus, who had converted their character sheets to digital in case Brianna lost hers and already had his both ways.) While the Chosen hadn't been a huge fan of the idea of using digital dice, he gave in (as he did for most things they asked.)

These were all things Criss Darren observed as he stood up behind Regina and Final Girl to check in with them before heading to the back. On the surface, sure, it was a banal exchange. Yet, Criss Darren still saw that characteristic problem.

He was laid back on the bed, on his phone and trying to relax when the Chosen came back to grab something from his bag. Criss Darren glanced away from his screen towards him.

"Hey," Criss Darren said. The Chosen nodded to him before returning to searching his bag.

"Brianna's having a hard time visualizing the temple," he explained, "I have to find my notebook and draw it out for her."

"Mm," Criss Darren hummed and watched him. A thought crossed his mind and he decided it shouldn't be too hard to ask. The Chosen should have an easy explanation and if he was in the middle of something, he'd be trying to get back to it, so he wouldn't have time to sit there and come up with a lie. "Can I ask you something?"

The Chosen glanced back to him. "Okay."

"Why couldn't you come to the play with Regina and Final Girl?" Criss Darren asked, then shrugged. "Not that it's a big deal. I was just curious."

He watched the Chosen closely, though his own face was open and neutral. There was a very simple out. He could just say Brianna wanted to go and that was the only day she was available. Criss Darren knew he didn't have a job. What other obligations did he have?

"I..." the Chosen turned his attention back to his bag as he started his explanation, "...had been busy with training. Sometimes I lose track of time when I work on practicing fighting and meditation and things."

You lost track until the second to last night despite them texting you, got it, Criss Darren thought, then asked: "So you still do training?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"Really?"

"Yeah," the Chosen pulled his notebook out of his bag and crossed his arms, "I never know when someone like the CIA might need my services."

"They've reached out to you?" Criss Darren asked.

"No, not yet."

"Have you reached out to them?"

"I think my skills should speak for themselves."

Criss Darren held his tongue. "I get that."

"Yeah—"

"Chosen!" Brianna called from the cabin.

"Are we gonna save Hirdor from the Temple of Oxar or not?!" Augustus added.

The Chosen's stoicism faltered and he glanced back to the door before giving a look to Criss Darren. "Excuse me."

"You're fine," Criss Darren laughed and waved him off. The Chosen nodded and left, not noticing Criss Darren's own expression finally drop into a glower once he did. His phone buzzed and he turned his attention to it.

no come on, chosen could come on the trip. like the other ones couldve stayed behind but hes part of the group

i just need a smoke. this whole trip has me so stressed out

—Final Girl (2:31pm)

Watch out: that's how the Gentlemen will get you

—Criss (2:32pm)

idc they can kill me or make me one of them or w/e they do if theyre even really real. im losing it

we wouldnt be in this mess if it wasnt for that stupid blonde stealing the mask from the museum in the first place

—Final Girl (2:34pm)

We'll get it figured out

If anything, it's not like we're the ones that took it. We'd get off way better than she would.

We could argue we're practically hostages on this RV lol

—Criss (2:37pm)

lol

i might be just being too mean

—Final Girl (2:39pm)

Nah, she was careless

—Criss (2:40pm)

i just feel sick about everythign

*everything

maybe im wrong about her anyway. this couldve all been one bad decision and im putting my baggage on her

—Final Girl (2:43pm)

Are you gonna try and talk to her?

—Criss (2:44pm)

no, still too anxious for that

shes a youtuber right

maybe ill just cyberstalk her lol

—Final Girl (2:47pm)

Yeah, that might help.

It'll at least show you how she *wants* to be perceived

—Criss (2:49pm)

right

maybe find out if shes genuinely this dumb or shes always acting

—Final Girl (2:51pm)

Okay, that one was mean lol

—Criss (2:52pm)

had to get one in lol

—Final Girl (2:53pm)

***

The three had finished up D&D and the cabin was quiet. Brianna was, again, playing on her phone while Augustus typed up notes for Rhorneth on his, and the Chosen resisted thinking about how much he wanted to return to playing his Switch. It was kind of hard now that everyone had made fun of him for the Zelda thing (even if he would love to be Link since he was one of his heroes.)

"So," Brianna started, lowering her phone and glancing up to the RV ceiling in thought, "obviously I didn't go to school with you guys, so, like, what was Mr. Grub really like? I've heard bits and pieces and everything, but I don't really know much and I wanna be ready and respectful when we finally get to Boston. Especially 'cuz I took that mask for him and everything and..." she paused, "...I kinda wanna make sure that was the right thing."

The Chosen considered the question, crossing his arms and taking a deep breath. There were a lot of ways to describe Mr. Grub, so it was hard to know where to start—

"Here," Augustus started, tapping on his phone, then handing it over to her.

"Oh my gosh!" she said as she took it. "He was on Smosh?"

"What?" the Chosen questioned, shooting a look to Augustus.

"Yeah, a couple times," Augustus said, watching the video besides her. The Chosen reached across the booth and snatched the phone from Brianna's hand.

"Hey!" she shouted. The Chosen stared at the video. Button up and tie, briefcase, silvery hair, and that unmistakable voice.

It was Mr. Grub.

"Augustus!" the Chosen snapped.

"What?" Augustus asked.

"You didn't think to tell me?" he asked.

"You've been on the channel," he replied with a half laugh.

"I don't know all of their videos—you work for them!"

"And you and I have an embargo about your training days!"

"What is happening out here?" Criss Darren asked as he wandered back out into the cabin. The Chosen held Augustus's phone up to him, which Criss Darren took.

"This supersedes that!" the Chosen snapped at Augustus.

"Since when?" Augustus asked.

"This is from May 22nd—that's four months ago!" Criss Darren said and turned to Augustus, rage in his eyes equal to the Chosen's own if not exceeding it. "You're telling us you knew he was in the city then and you haven't told us once this whole time?!"

"Oh, I thought you were some kind of researcher—you didn't find this video at all?!" Augustus snapped.

"No! I didn't! And I don't know how it didn't show up!"

"Mr. Grub didn't train you how to use Google?!"

Criss Darren leaned over the table and got into Augustus's face, lowering his voice as his temper rose. "How did Mr. Grub get on the channel?"

Augustus didn't answer for a moment.

"I don't know," Augustus lied.

"It was your idea to get him on there, wasn't it?" Criss Darren questioned.

Augustus scowled back at Criss Darren.

A new shout interrupted their argument—to start another one.

"You're telling people your boyfriend is the Chosen?!" Final Girl screamed back at Brianna, spun around from the passenger seat with her glare wide on Brianna.

For a moment, everyone's stunned stares were on Final Girl, then they turned them to Brianna who had gone pale.

"No," she said.

"You're a liar!" Final Girl shouted and leapt up from her seat, Regina's hand unable to stop her as she had to focus on driving.

"I— there's a misunderstanding," Brianna said as she tried to scramble out of the booth and get over the back of it since Augustus was not moving lest he get into an actual fight with Criss Darren who also hadn't moved (but Brianna did not want to look the Chosen the eye across from her anymore, or anyone really.)

"Explain away!" Final Girl shouted, cornering Brianna who was one leg over the back and the other heel on the seat as Final Girl stuck her phone in Brianna's face, Brianna's Instagram exposed as she scrolled pointedly through the pictures. "Explain—explain all of it!"

Brianna sat poised like a deer prepping to get hit by a semi.

"He's...a boy...who's a friend," she said.

Final Girl hesitated, unable to even blink. "Yeah?"

"Mm-hm."

Brianna shifted uncomfortably as she struggled to find anything else to add and the air grew tense as Final Girl leaned closer to her.

"Then this shouldn't be a problem," Final Girl said and tossed her phone onto the table where it slid across to stop in front of the Chosen. Brianna's eyes went wide and she lunged for the phone, but the Chosen snatched it from the table faster.

"No, don't!" Brianna pleaded.

"What did you do, Brianna?" Augustus asked.

"It's stupid!" she said.

"You bet it's stupid, just like everything you've done on this trip!" Final Girl snapped.

"Hey!" Augustus said, whipping around to her.

The Chosen looked at the phone screen, seeing what Final Girl had seen. The selfies Brianna had been taking with him over the course of the trip—in the RV, at gas stations, at the restaurant—and even ones from prior times they had hung out, all strung together through various posts over the past couple days making claims in the captions about how happy she was to have finally moved on from Bryce and have found someone who appreciated her. How she was so excited to start anew.

To have really found "the one."

If it was his own phone, he would've slammed it down, but he wasn't going to risk cracking Final Girl's screen. Instead, he just slammed his fist down instead, making Brianna jerk back.

"This is a violation of everything I stand for!" the Chosen shouted. Augustus held out his hand and the Chosen handed him the phone to see the photos. Criss Darren had already stepped back and pulled it up on his own, hand over his mouth.

"So I figured you wouldn't mind!" Brianna argued.

"What do you mean I wouldn't mind?!" he said.

"Because it's all fake! My management knew that and everything."

"I didn't! The people on the internet didn't! I have a reputation on there!"

"What does it matter?"

"What do you mean what does it matter?" Criss Darren questioned.

"It's such a gross violation of trust!" Final Girl shouted.

"People do it all the time!" Brianna said.

"And they shouldn't!" Augustus said.

"Oh my gosh—" Criss Darren cut in, "—that's the coffee shop you guys stopped at," his eyes shot up from the phone to Brianna, "you posted there?! You—wait— you've been posting this whole time! They can track us through that—they probably have been tracking us through that!" He ran his hands through his hair. "You're probably how they've been tracking us!"

"Why would they be tracking us?!" Brianna asked.

"You stole from a museum!" Final Girl shouted. "Why would they not?! They questioned my dad this morning because of you!"

"They questioned your dad because Regina's parents reported the RV as stolen because they're controlling psychopaths!" Augustus snapped, standing up from his seat. The Chosen saw a flash of panic dart through Final Girl's eyes as she recognized his height over her, her hand slipping up to the back of her belt to hook a finger under it to a hidden pocket he knew of but he knew Augustus didn't—all of which made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"That's only because neither of you are trained and should never have been here in the first place," Final Girl argued, pointing between Augustus and Brianna, "you two should've stayed out of the museum completely because she screwed it up and you're completely useless."

"I am not useless!" Augustus said, taking a step forward. As soon as he did, the Chosen was up and was between the two, pushing Augustus back as he spotted Final Girl had, in fact, instinctually pulled out a knife to defend herself. Thankfully, it was still hidden in her fist so only the Chosen and Criss Darren had noticed (who had likewise taken hold of Final Girl's arm to hold her back,) but it was still there.

"Well, you aren't helping things," Criss Darren mocked.

The Chosen glared at him. "Criss—"

"I'm serious," Criss Darren interrupted, "but maybe I should really be directing it at you, because what are you here for? What did you even come back to us for? What are we to you?"

The Chosen stared at him for a moment, brow furrowed tight. Was this...really being asked?

"You're my friends?" he said, bewildered.

"Are we?" Criss Darren questioned. "Or are we the people who can drive?"

The Chosen was speechless.

"I don't think you ever valued us as much as we did you. I don't think you ever did anyone. For someone who always wore a shirt with three wolves on it, you sure were a lone one," Criss Darren said.

"You—" Augustus started.

"Shut up," Criss Darren snapped, then continued, glaring at the Chosen, "you don't reach out to any of us for years and now you suddenly want to go back to how everything used to be while barely putting in the work to get to know how we really are now. Things are different; things are new. But you're so focused on you. And then, on top of it, you're so focused on them—" he pointed to Augustus and Brianna, "—and appeasing them. You never notice anything outside the bubble you're currently in, which is why Mr. Grub put you with Regina—she at least notices things! She takes you outside your bubble! But now you've stuck her in the bubble of the past and you're screwed! You can't adjust! You want to be noticed by the CIA? Well, you're never going to be because you'll never reach out. It's outside the bubble!"

The Chosen was quiet. The RV was the only sound around them.

"Tell me this," Criss Darren said, poking the Chosen in the chest, "do you know why Mr. Grub started training you—and just you—before he took any of us to the mansion?"

The Chosen didn't want to answer, especially when he felt everyone staring at him, especially when he knew Criss Darren already had an answer that was different than his own. He felt the RV shifting under his feet as everything he felt he knew about himself did, too.

"Because he saw potential in me," the Chosen said.

"No," Criss Darren said, "it's because he knew that if he didn't, you would've been behind. We picked it up without training. You didn't."

The RV screeched to a halt, making everyone stumble and Brianna finally tumble off the back of the booth. Regina stood up from the driver's seat and turned back to them.

"Okay!" she shouted back to them. "Everyone get off the RV. We're gonna take a twenty minute stop where you'll be on your best behavior and you all better be in a better mood when you get back here. Otherwise, I'm gonna leave you here at the Flying J's and I'm not gonna think twice about it. Do we understand?"

Brianna picked herself up off the floor as everyone else hesitated, then they all nodded.

"Great," Regina said, then held out her hand, "now give me your phones."

Chapter Text

Public restroom stalls share a lot of similarities with high school ones. For an expert, it's not a hard adjustment to figure out how to hide in them. Sit sideways on the seat, back against the stall, heels dug into one half of the seat to keep from falling in, arms wrapped around legs to keep them steady (maybe one hand against the opposite stall wall if the balance became unsteady)—there was a method.

For someone as practiced in it as Final Girl, there wasn't a question of where she was going to be when she needed to cry over what all happened.

There was also a method to crying in a public place like that. It wouldn't do you any good to be hiding if you were going to make noise—everything had to be dead silent. The tears could fall as big as they wanted (and they were, streaming down her face with such ferocity that she probably could've turned her jacket black from her running eyeliner if it wasn't already that color), just as long as she held her breath as they did. The air had to come out slowly, pressed through her chest like she willingly asked her problems to drive over her with a steamroller. Then it could come back through shakily—but still quietly. Everything had to be measured and controlled to keep it from echoing against the metal and tile, all in case whoever she was hiding from came in and found her.

(And even if the people she was here with weren't going to torture her the same way, it still felt like it might be torture if they found her. She was the one who started it, after all.)

***

Criss Darren found that Brianna hadn't even made it inside the Flying J, she just hid alongside the side of it out of sight of the RV. Under the graying skies and sat against the wall with her head in her hands as she cried, she looked so much less colorful than she usually did.

"Hey, Brianna," Criss Darren greeted gently, crouching besides her. It felt like instinct after all the times he found Final Girl like this at the apartment after her anxiety attacks, negating anything else he was feeling towards Brianna for the moment. It wasn't like she could take the posts back, anyway.

"He's gonna hate me," she sobbed.

"Chosen's not gonna hate you," Criss Darren said before taking a seat next to her. The brick wall and sidewalk were warm from the sun that had disappeared minutes ago, everything around them smelling like old cigarettes and gasoline.

"Yes he is!" she said, falling against his shoulder, still holding her hands to her face. Her body shook as she cried and Criss Darren slipped his arms around her, the rough brick catching his shirt.

"He's not, I promise," he said, "I wouldn't have said half the things I did if I thought the Chosen was gonna hate me. He doesn't hate people that easy, especially ones he cares about."

"But...but...but I-" she hiccuped before again descending into incoherent sobs. Criss Darren sighed and stroked her hair.

"No, yeah, what you did was awful," he said, "and you'll definitely need to talk to him. You can't get away with doing something like that to someone, especially not to one of your friends, especially not without their consent, and especially not to him of all people. Like—you messed up. But you can fix it."

"I don't know what to do!" she cried.

"You apologize."

"I can't— I can't—"

"Yes you can."

"It won't mean anything! Sorry's don't mean anything!"

Criss Darren furrowed his brow. "What do you mean it doesn't mean anything? If you mean it—"

"I don't mean anything!" She pushed away from Criss Darren, not looking at him but he could see how wet her face was with tears. "Nothing I do means anything! I don't know what to do—I don't know what I'm doing!" She suddenly stumbled up to her feet and threw her hands out. "I haven't ever done anything; everything I do is something I get told to do—this trip is the first thing I chose to do and it's still something I was told about by someone else and I wasn't even really invited! I just showed up!"

Criss Darren watched her and frowned. No wonder she had seemed directionless—she was never allowed to pick one. She was used to being a puppet, and now she was off her stage for the first time and didn't know what to do because there weren't any hands to control her. She couldn't figure out how she was still moving.

It clicked for him why she had gravitated towards the group.

"I never get to do anything for myself because I don't know how to because I'm too stupid—!" she continued.

He shook his head. "You're not stupid—"

"Yes I am!" she interrupted. "I'm an idiot who can't think for herself. That's why I keep paying for people who do it for me and tell me what to do but now I did it wrong and now the people who actually like me are gonna hate me!"

"We don't hate you, Brianna!" Criss Darren argued, getting up.

"You said you did!" she cried. He took her trembling hands in his.

"We said we were mad—that doesn't mean we hate you!" he said.

As soon as the words left him, Brianna collapsed into him, burying her face into his shoulder as she sobbed. He, again, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, rocking her back and forth to try and soothe her as she cried.

***

The Chosen picked through the snack aisles inside the Flying J, knowing he didn't want anything, knowing he couldn't return to the RV, and knowing he didn't want to talk to anyone, either.

How could Brianna do that? She knew he didn't date, she knew he had his code, she knew what he was like. What was she thinking? What was any of that for? Didn't she have any influencer friends she could have pretended to date instead if she had to pretend to date someone? Couldn't she have actually dated someone? Why did it have to be him? How could anyone do something like that?

He couldn't even understand the draw to do something like that. Fake dating. Right. He understood the appeal of dating. Conceptually. In theory. It was...something biological. The end goal at least. The drive. That made sense...in some part.

Somewhat.

Somewhere.

He picked at the package of crackers in front of him.

He thought it made sense. He understood it was something people did. Other people. It was something he avoided easily. Very easily. He never second guessed how easily he avoided it. Online, he had given advice on abstaining from it. Others struggled with resisting it, but he...hadn't.

Why...did people want it? And why...didn't he? Why was it so easy for him?

And why was it bothering him that he didn't want it?

***

Regina stopped on the steps out of the RV, preparing to head to the Flying J to check on everyone, but instead found Augustus sat at the bottom step.

"Did you not leave?" she asked, hand on her hip.

"Why would I?" he asked as he stared out at the truck stop ahead of them. "No one wanted me here, so why would they want me there?"

"Um, you don't speak for me," she replied, then headed down to sit down next to him.

"Like you of all people want me on the trip."

"I have never once had a problem with you on the road trip," she said. Augustus eyed her. "I haven't!"

"If you haven't noticed—I haven't contributed once to this trip."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, A.) since when do you have to be useful on a road trip? And B.) yes you have?! You've paid for gas and you drove for four hours in the middle of the night!"

Augustus watched her.

"The RV takes diesel," he teased.

"Shut up about my word choice!" she laughed, smacking his arm and getting him to crack the subtlest of smiles. "I'm serious, though! On both points. You're not useless. You haven't been useless."

"But I'm not some...specially trained fighter or—"

"Oh my gosh, Augustus," Regina groaned, cutting him off, "we're not saving the world, we're going to Boston."

Augustus laughed.

"You know how much our skills have come in handy so far?" Regina asked. "Not at all! Brianna's the one that got the mask!"

"And we see how that turned out," he said.

"Yeah—everyone yelled at each other," she said.

"Yeah."

"So do you wanna be specially trained?"

Augustus sighed.

"You wanna know what I do with all my skills that I learned?" Regina asked.

"What?" he asked.

"I take self defense courses so I can show off."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah," she glanced off, "I'd go into MMA if I could get away with it, but my parents would know what was up if I tried. This is all I can get away with."

"You've really got it bad, don't you?"

Regina was quiet, then she turned to Augustus.

"Do you know why I want you here?" she asked him.

"Why?" he asked.

"And you've gotta stick with me on this, because it's gonna sound silly when I first say it."

"Then I might call you silly."

She smiled at him.

"You and I are the same person," she said.

He scoffed. "What?"

"We are," she said.

"How?!"

"Easy," she said and pointed to the Flying J, "we want to protect the people we care about," then put her finger to his chest, "including ourselves."

She took her hand back as Augustus's bewildered smile faded. For a moment, she watched him as he took it in, unable to look back at her. In response, she slipped her arm through his and set her head on his shoulder.

***

Twenty minutes was up.

No one said a word when they got back on the RV. Regina and Augustus were already there, Criss Darren brought the still teary eyed Brianna back next, the Chosen wasn't long after, and Final Girl was last. Everyone disbursed to different places once Regina returned their phones, no one seeming to want to speak to each other (and maybe that was for the best.)

Final Girl insisted on driving, though, which was the only talking anyone did. Regina didn't fight her—she looked like she needed a distraction.

As the drizzle of the gray clouds started, a quiet ambiance to back the likewise quietly playing Good Charlotte on the dashboard speakers, Regina deigned to break the silence from the passenger seat.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Mm-hm," Final Girl hummed.

"You sure?"

Final Girl was silent, eyes dead set ahead on the road.

Regina frowned and glanced out the window. The Missouri highways were different than all the others they had been subjected to for the last dozens of hours. The small towns were all the same, but the heavy trees on the layered hills were a good change. They twisted in the rainy winds and almost looked darker the wetter they got.

"I'm just—" Final Girl started, then caught herself, pursing her lips, "—nevermind."

"It's okay, go ahead," Regina said.

"I'm just frustrated," Final Girl said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"With what?"

"I just—" Final Girl chewed on the skin of her lip, causing Regina to notice the makeup she had been wearing earlier was all gone. "—I just feel like this whole trip could've gone different."

Regina nodded.

"Maybe I could've...planned a little bit better," Final Girl continued, derision in her voice. "Maybe I could've...figured something else out. Maybe...maybe I could've thought ahead that she'd come along and screw it up."

Regina watched her. Brianna had locked herself in the bathroom so there was no fear of her overhearing this, nor anyone else, really. Augustus and Criss Darren were both there in the cabin, sure, but both had earbuds in to ignore each other. And then the Chosen was all the way back in the bedroom. Besides, Final Girl had a way of leveling her voice to where anyone who didn't need to hear her voice wouldn't. If she was going to rant about someone, she could probably do it easily in secret. Regina wasn't going to stop her.

"Honestly it's a miracle she hasn't screwed up worse at this point because she hasn't thought through a thing—she just does things," Final Girl continued, "I can't believe we didn't crash on the way to Tulsa and all die with her behind the wheel because I doubt she really knew what she was doing with something this size. But who cares, really? I'm just being over the top as always—it's just me being me. The museum and everything is fine. Everyone's gonna forgive her because she's pretty and blonde—"

The words died on her lips and she sucked a sharp gasp through her teeth. Regina watched as Final Girl's eyes shot wide.

"I'm sorry," Final Girl said, her voice quiet.

"You're fine," Regina replied.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"I said you're fine," she said.

"It wasn't about you."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"I'm so sorry."

Regina reached over and took Final Girl's wrist, pulling her hand from the steering wheel to take it into her own. She felt Final Girl's fingers tremble in hers and she squeezed it, thumb rubbing the back of her hand. Final Girl took her other hand off the wheel to wipe the tears away that had been welling up in her eyes, catching the wheel with her knee.

"This is stupid," she mumbled, "it's been years since high school, I should be fine. I should— shoot—!"

Her hand shot back to the wheel as she ripped her other out of Regina's hold to catch the wheel as she slammed her foot on the brake. Regina's arm whipped out in front of Final Girl as the RV slid against the wet asphalt, but they stopped barely in time to keep from hitting the van in front of them.

Regina's heart pounded against her ribs and Final Girl's knuckles were white around the steering wheel. There was a shifting behind them.

"Is everything okay?" Criss Darren called up to them.

"Yeah," Regina called back, looking ahead through the windshield as the wipers knocked the water away to expose the line of vehicles they were suddenly stuck behind, "I think there might've been an accident up ahead."

"Okay," he said, "but we're good?"

"Yeah," Final Girl called back.

"Alright," he said.

Regina paused for a moment, then got up from her seat.

"Park," she said and waved Final Girl up.

"What?" Final Girl asked, eyeing her.

"Park and swap me. You're not driving anymore," Regina said.

"No, I'm fine—"

"No. I'm driving. You don't need to."

"No, I said I'm fine—

"You can say it all you want, but you're swapping me."

Final Girl frowned, then gave in and parked the RV, slipping out of the driver's seat as quick as she could to let Regina take her spot. Regina dropped into it and got situated as Final Girl took the passenger seat, curling into herself and watching her put it back into drive.

"I'm sorry," Final Girl whispered.

"Look at me," Regina said, pointing up to her eyes. Final Girl hesitated before meeting Regina's steady gaze. "You didn't do anything wrong, you didn't crash the RV, you didn't hit the other car, you paid attention—you didn't have anything to apologize for there. And you're upset because there's another blonde in your life making things difficult and it's made things...hard. I'm not mad at you for getting upset about that. You're going to figure out how to work through it and you're going to figure out how to apologize about any comments you made from it—to the right person."

Final Girl pursed her lips and crossed her arms tighter across her stomach as she curled over herself in her seat, then nodded. Regina took Final Girl's phone from the cradle in the dashboard and handed it back to her, replacing it with her own phone to hook it up to the Bluetooth.

"Now," Regina started, "I've got a new question for you."

"Okay," Final Girl said, setting her phone on the seat besides her.

"It's one that's been bugging me for a while and I just...cannot think of the answer," she said, tapping away on the screen as they lingered in the traffic.

"Sure."

"It's very important."

"Just ask it."

"Who is that insatiable girl with the irresistible love for the dead?" Regina asked with a smile as the song she had queued up started. Final Girl arched an eyebrow, then grinned when she realized Rob Zombie's 'Living Dead Girl' was playing (no doubt for just her.)

"You got the words wrong," Final Girl teased. Regina rolled her eyes, making her laugh.

"Whatever," Regina said.

***

Augustus almost didn't notice Criss Darren take the seat across from him at the booth. He, likewise, almost didn't give him the attention when he did. Yet, after ignoring him for the last half hour while he had sat on the sofa, if he was going to be direct, Augustus would comply, even if it was just to look up at him and pull out one earbud.

Criss Darren set his phone and hands down on the table, watching across to Augustus's own, likewise appearing as if he wasn't fully ready to talk but forcing himself to for the sake of helping things move on. After a moment, he motioned to Augustus's phone.

"Show me how you find Mr. Grub," he said.

Augustus stared at him for a moment, wanting to argue, say some snide remark, but recognized that would take them back to the last hour all over again.

Instead, Augustus turned to his phone and typed in his search, then showed his screen to Criss Darren. Criss Darren studied it for a moment, certainly holding back his own comments. In his quiet, he turned to his own phone, typed in the same, then showed it to Augustus. None of the same results were there, especially none for Mr. Grub.

"Huh," Augustus remarked, eyeing it. Criss Darren nodded. Augustus hesitated, then committed and held out his hand: "May I?"

Criss Darren shrugged and handed his phone over. Augustus typed in the same search again and sent it through, getting back the same results he had gotten on his own phone. He handed it back to Criss Darren who cocked his head when seeing the screen.

"Hm," he hummed.

"Guess I am better at technology than you," Augustus said. Criss Darren smiled.

"There is something weird to that, though," he said, setting his phone to the side. Augustus watched him.

"How were you able to find Mr. Grub's address if you couldn't search anything about him?" he asked.

Criss Darren picked at the beads on the bracelet hooked to the phone case, studying the letters close before he answered. "My dad used to be in the Secret Service. He got it for me."

Augustus scowled. "So you were going off on the Chosen for his CIA stuff when you could've helped him out with that—?"

"That wasn't the point of bringing it up," Criss Darren interrupted, shooting him a glare, "I just..." he sighed, "I just feel like he's stuck. I feel like all of them are stuck. And the last thing I want is for the people I love to be stuck as the exact same I remember them as. That's not how people should be. We're not stagnant, we're not one thing, we're not the same versions that we were in our memories—we should be different people because that's the point of being people." He looked to the bracelet again. "I want them to move on."

Augustus considered it.

"You probably could've brought it up a better way," he said.

Criss Darren frowned. "I might've also just wanted to yell at him."

"Oh! Well, I've done that."

Criss Darren laughed.

***

Brianna still had herself locked in the bathroom, sat in the shower with her head against the glass door. Outside, the world was blurry from the frosted glass. Inside, it was from her struggle to blink away the stream of tears fast enough as she deleted the posts from her socials.

She'd be working faster if she wasn't stopping to reread them. It was rarely her own words—it always went through the PR team and the copywriter—but there were some she knew started from her brain. Those ones she lingered on the longest. Those ones were personal.

It hurt the most to see those. They were specific. They had details only she knew. Only the Chosen would. They were real. The actual friendship. A real friendship. One that was betrayed. One that was used. One that was exploited.

Things were supposed to be different. They were supposed to be different, but she screwed it up. She made it the same. Not because these people were the same, but because she was the same. No matter how much she wanted to be with genuine people, she wasn't genuine.

As she deleted another post, her phone buzzed.

Brianna, sweetie, do you know what's going on with the Instagram?

-Melinda Mare (Manager Boss Lady 👩‍💼) (3:57pm)

Brianna swiped the notification away and went to the next post. She should've picked someone else, she should've risked anyone else, but they wanted her to pick someone that week. And she wanted to go on the road trip. She'd be able to get pictures on the road trip. And she had lots of pictures with them together already. And she knew things about him. It'd make it more believable. They were friends.

Were.

Another tear splashed on the screen as a call from Melinda tried to come through. Brianna denied it and wiped the screen clear.

Another post deleted. Another buzz.

Were you hacked again?

-Melinda Mare (Manager Boss Lady 👩‍💼) (4:03pm)

She ignored it.

There were no amount of apologies she could say, no amount of gifts she could give him, nothing she could do that would get the Chosen to forgive her because he was real. He was genuine. He wasn't just a persona on display, he wasn't an act. She didn't know how to fix this and the only people she was used to asking were the people who told her to do it in the first place.

Next post deleted. New call—ignored. New text notification appears.

We've got the team working on it, so don't worry. We'll see if we can get the posts restored.

Please just tell me there's no sex tape this time in any of the DMs to get leaked like there was with Bryce. That was a nightmare and a half to spin into good PR for you.

-Melinda Mare (Manager Boss Lady 👩‍💼) (4:11pm)

Brianna was locked out of the Instagram moments afterwards.

Her lip wobbled and her chest shook as she tried to steady her breathing while she attempted to text Melinda back.

no

-Brianna (4:15pm)

No videos? Good to hear! That's less we have to worry about this time :)

-Melinda Mare (Manager Boss Lady 👩‍💼) (4:17pm)

She swallowed.

no

dont put thr posts back up

-Brianna (4:20pm)

Another call attempted. Denied again.

Brianna, what are you talking about? That's to build up the current relationship we've been establishing for the fans to follow. It's the Post-Bryce Era we've discussed moving you towards for the past month.

-Melinda Mare (Manager Boss Lady 👩‍💼) (4:24pm)

Brianna wiped the tears from her eyes as her fingers trembled over the keys, struggling to type the words she so desperately wanted to scream when all she could manage was sob.

i dont want this

-Brianna (4:26pm)

She watched the dots appear, then disappear, then appear again before Melinda's message finally came through.

Alright. I'll see if we can workshop a story through about you two also breaking up.

We'll talk about this more later.

-Melinda Mare (Manager Boss Lady 👩‍💼) (4:30pm)

Brianna dropped her phone against the shower floor, hugging herself tight and collapsing against the back wall as she cried. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to go back. She didn't want it anymore.

***

Final Girl was exhausted from her anxiety and Regina had seen it, so sent her back to the bedroom to sleep. However, when she got there, she found that the Chosen was still back there, even after the hour and a half since the stop at the Flying J.

Final Girl lingered in the doorway of the bedroom for a moment, watching him watch the skylight above him as the rain poured down over it, laid out on his back (probably having not moved from that spot since he got there.)

"Hey," she finally said. He was quiet for a time.

"Hey," he said.

She hesitated for a moment.

"Do you mind if I hang out here with you?" she asked.

He stayed silent, then scooted himself over on the bed to give her room. She slid the door shut again behind her and came to lay next to him, staring up at through the skylight at the gray skies above them and listening to the pattering of the rain above. After a while of the stillness, he spoke.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied.

"It..." he said, "...it might be awkward."

"You're safe to ask it with me," she said.

He hesitated again. Final Girl studied the way the rain fell along the skylight in their chaotic rivers as she waited, letting him decide when he was ready.

"What does attraction feel like?" he asked.

She watched the droplets rush into the rivers on the glass, crossing from one miniature stream into another.

"It's kinda..." she started, "...like a fuzzy thing that makes you feel stupid. Like you're all hot and overwhelmed because your brain is kind of haywired and you're just kinda...dumb. You're just so nervous because you don't want to do something wrong and make it obvious you feel dumb. And then every time you're with that person you feel that same fuzziness and goofiness and just overwhelming...something that makes you different than with everyone else. It's like they hit a different part of your brain." The rain pooled against the far side of the skylight and she watched it gather in her silence. "Does that make sense?"

The Chosen was quiet.

"No," he admitted. Final Girl frowned.

"Sorry," she said, "I'm...not really good with words sometimes."

They kept watching the rain.

"I don't think I've ever felt it," he said, "I thought that was some gift of mine, but..."

Final Girl glanced over to him. He didn't move.

"I made it so much of me because I thought it would be a challenge, but it's been so easy. I just never questioned why it was so easy. I've seen so many other people struggle with it while I never once wavered in my dedication to it. But...there had to be a reason why it was...easy," his voice faltered and he cleared his throat.

She continued to watch him.

"Do you think you want to feel it?" she asked. He swallowed.

"I don't know what I want," he whispered.

He kept staring up at the skylight and, after a moment, Final Girl joined him. She listened to him breathe besides her, heard it catch for just a second, and gently took his hand in hers as they continued to lay side by side in the silence.

***

Criss Darren tried again to knock on the bathroom door to coax Brianna out, but she told him again to go away. Augustus watched from the passenger seat as the thunder and highway rolled outside.

"I don't think she's coming out," he told Regina.

"Hasn't she done apology videos before?" Regina asked. "Why is she so scared of saying sorry? It's obvious it'd be genuine."

"I think she's more scared he's not going to accept it," he replied.

She frowned. Maybe not right away, and she didn't blame him. It was a lot that Brianna did, especially behind his back. But they just needed to talk, she needed to explain why she did it. The Chosen wasn't a wall like people thought he could be. There was a soul in there that was a lot more tender and understanding than people gave him credit for—it's why he and Regina could mesh so well.

"Why did she do it?" Regina asked.

Augustus looked at her, then glanced back. "I dunno."

"Did you know she was doing it?"

"No! You thought—?"

"No—I didn't think you did, I just wanted to check to see if you could've known when it started or if she was saying anything about it. I'm not trying to accuse you of being part of it."

"Okay, good," he scoffed.

She gave him a quick eye before returning her gaze to the road. "I feel like you should know me better by now."

He paused. "I'm trying to."

She smiled, though it only lasted a moment.

"I'm going to try to talk to her when we stop," she said, "I think there's something else to this. There's gotta be a reason she picked the Chosen out of everyone she knew."

"It could've just been convenient," he said.

"I don't think so. I think it was deliberate."

Augustus frowned and watched Criss Darren again knock on the door.

"Just..." Augustus started, "...please handle her gently."

Regina nodded. "I will."

***

At some small town off the highway, they stopped for fuel. It was the first time Brianna finally freed herself from her self made detention and she insisted she paid for the stop. Regina wasn't going to stop her and stayed with her as everyone else headed into the gas station.

Regina gave a nod to Augustus before he disappeared behind the doors with the others, then turned to Brianna who was studying her phone and the pump closely.

"So," Regina started, leaning up against the RV, "are you doing okay—?"

"Shush," Brianna interrupted, tapping on her phone then waving a hand at Regina, "shoosh."

"Okay," Regina said and shut her mouth. She looked away to let her concentrate, watching water drip off the edge of the canopy over them and the pumps. The rain had followed them for most of the drive, but had let up about ten minutes prior. The skies were still dark, though the late evening sun was trying its hardest to peak through for one last gasp.

Out of the corner of her eye, Regina saw Brianna glance back and forth between the machine and her phone, waving it in front of the screen frantically.

"What's wrong?" Regina asked.

"It's not reading it," Brianna said, pressing her phone against the screen.

"Okay, okay, hold on," Regina started, getting up from against the RV and holding a hand out to Brianna's. Brianna, though, pulled hers back, swiping through her screens to try something else—though Regina couldn't tell what. She was growing panicked, so Regina tried to keep her voice level. "What are you trying to do?"

"I just want to pay!" she said.

"I know, how are you trying to do it?"

"My phone wallet like I've done everything else this trip!"

"Okay. Isn't that connected to your cards? Can't you just get one of those for now and we figure out what's wrong with the wallet later?"

Brianna threw her arm down, nearly sending her phone onto the asphalt with it. "No! I don't have cards!"

Regina furrowed her brow. "What do you mean you don't have cards?"

"Bryce convinced me that if I did this, I wouldn't need them, so everything's just in this stupid thing like the rest of my money—and now I can't get it to work so I can't pay for this or probably any of the other gas stations we're gonna go through and I'm gonna be the only one who doesn't pay on the trip when I wanted to pay for two of them to make up for everything I've done!" Brianna shouted, tears starting to well up in her eyes as she continued to wave her arms around.

"Brianna—Brianna, hold on," Regina said, reaching out to catch her wrists. Brianna stumbled and her chest heaved as she struggled to control her breathing. "I can take care of this one, it's okay."

"I don't get why it's not working—I have money! I have so much money! Like, that's the only thing Bryce did right was help me make money." Brianna pulled her hands free from Regina and stabbed her fingers against the screen of her phone to pull up the wallet before showing it to Regina. "See? Like, that was the one thing he helped with."

Regina studied the screen, trying to make sense of what exactly she was looking at.

"Is..." she started, hoping the hunch she was following was wrong, "...is that all cryptocurrency?"

"Yeah? That's where all my money is," Brianna said.

"All of it?!" Regina asked. Brianna went pale.

"Like...basically all of it," she replied, "why? Why...why did you say it like that? Why is that...why is that scary?"

Regina held up a hand. "No, no it wasn't...it wasn't...it wasn't scary—"

"No, you said it like it was scary—"

"I didn't mean it like that—"

"You look scared—"

"Brianna—"

"What did I do? What's wrong? What did I do?"

The panic was growing in Brianna's glassy eyes and Regina knew she was failing at hiding the soaring pity overtaking her own.

"I think we need to figure out how to change it back," Regina said as calmly as she could manage. Brianna stared at her for a moment, processing.

Then she launched her phone into the pavement and screamed.

***

"You're telling me everything she's posted since the road trip started got deleted?" Sarah Christ asked her boss as she sat out of the van's open side door in Tulsa. She had to pull into a "30 minute only" parking lot, but when her boss called, she couldn't ignore it.

"You got ears? That's what I'm sayin'," he told her, "everything disappeared over the last coupla hours. Inside source's sayin' there was a hack."

Sarah tapped her foot as she flicked the ash off the end of the cigarette she still wasn't smoking.

"You were saying these kids were part of some...adventuring group?" Sarah asked.

"The rich girl's mom was sayin' that, yeah, and— hold on—" she heard him lean back in his chair, "—coffee! Where?!" A pause. "These interns don't know how to do their job. Where was I?"

"The rich girl's mom. Adventurers," she said.

"Right," he said, "some nonsense about some wack job substitute that'd teach them how to fight. Might've been tryin' to make a cult of child soldiers—sounded kinda crazy. She said he'd take 'em out to random places without the parents' knowledge and do who knows what. The other parents disagreed about not knowin' where they were goin' so I'm thinkin' it's just this girl's that didn't know what was up. But they for sure didn't seem to know the full story either since none of them could tell a concrete shared detail about what the trips he was takin' them on were."

"Sketchy," Sarah said.

"Definitely. All they can really say for certain is that they learned how to fight. Most didn't think it was for anythin' bad but the rich girl's sure did. They had the worst opinions on the guy and the rest of the group as a whole."

"And they're the ones that reported the RV?"

"Mm-hm."

"So all of them can fight?"

"Just four of them, and pretty good, apparently. Different styles. Sunglasses has the katana—"

"That no one seems to acknowledge in any of the CCTV footage I've seen," Sarah interrupted.

"His mom says he carries it with him everywhere, I think it's harmless."

"It's a weapon."

"I think it's made of wood, Christ."

"Still."

"Also—don't ever interrupt me again."

"Sorry, chief."

"Spooky chick's got knives, all kinds and she's quick with them. Her dad was proud to tell us about that, and lots of her other accomplishments but they're not relevant. Style boy's dad barely talked, but the boys interviewin' him eventually found out the kid uses nunchucks."

Are all of these people dorks? Sarah thought to herself.

"And the rich girl just uses her fists. She apparently refused to learn a weapon so she could never get one taken away," the boss finished.

Alright. One of them might be threatening.

"What do we know about the last one?" Sarah asked.

"Not much, but seems he's the one that got the Youtube girl to tag along," he said.

"And she's the one they got to steal the mask, right?"

"Right."

A theory started piecing together in Sarah's mind.

"Alright," she said, "I'll keep tailing them and be ready in case I overtake them at any point."

"Don't make me regret sendin' you out there—they seem to know what they're doin' and they can take you out if they have to. The more we've been learnin', the crazier they sound."

She nodded. "Understood."

She snapped her phone shut, staring at the chrome as the sun glinted off of it. Behind her, Redacted leaned over the front seats where he had been waiting.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, no doubt having listened in on every word.

Sarah stared up at the Tulsa skyline in front of her. The smell of her untouched cigarette's smoke burned in her lungs as it wafted towards her.

"I think they killed her," she replied, "I think that was their plan from the beginning."

***

By the time everyone else had run back out of the gas station to them, Brianna had collapsed to the asphalt and Regina was holding her as she sobbed, too hysterical to speak. Regina spoke for her, at least what parts she felt were important.

They found a quiet place to take her to (a nearby laundromat Final Girl had seen from the highway that only a couple other people were hanging around.) Regina, the Chosen, and Final Girl slipped out to the restaurant next door to collect dinner for everyone while Augustus and Criss Darren stayed with Brianna, Augustus likewise having made himself a setup at a table in its center to try and reverse her crypto issue.

Brianna was wrapped up in her pink blanket, leaned with her head against Augustus's shoulder and back to the door because she didn't want to look anyone in the eye when they came back. Criss Darren sat besides her, rubbing her back as Augustus worked away on his laptop running off the wifi hotspot from his phone.

"Username," Augustus told her as he pulled Kraken up.

"It's just my name," Brianna mumbled to him. Augustus paused, fingers hovering over the keys.

"Legal or internet?" he asked.

"Legal," she replied. He nodded and typed it in.

"Password," he said and held up a hand as he heard her breathe in to speak, "and don't say that one out loud. Please."

Brianna hesitated, then twisted around just enough to type it in (Augustus had also pulled the laptop closer to her so she had less moving to do.) Once she finished and they went through a set of new device verification authentication screens, he got to work and Brianna resumed her position against him.

Eventually, the other three returned, Final Girl balancing two holders of drinks, the Chosen boxes of pizzas, and Regina dangling the bags of the other orders on her arms.

"Hello, hello," Regina said as they wandered back in and over to the table, "how's it going?"

"We're hanging in there," Criss Darren replied, watching Brianna glance down at her phone again as it buzzed, screen and case heavily cracked from when she threw it. It was the fifth time it went off since they entered the laundromat.

"And that's all we can ask for," Regina said. She set the food down, working with Final Girl and the Chosen to start passing the orders out. Criss Darren joined in the effort, but neither Brianna nor Augustus paid it much mind. The most Augustus did was eye the spread periodically as they worked; he just couldn't bring himself to take his focus off his own. Brianna simply wouldn't turn around.

"Who's bugging you so much?" Final Girl asked Brianna as another text came through and setting a drink in front of Regina.

"My manager," Brianna mumbled.

"Tell her to buzz off," Final Girl replied, "they get dirt today."

"They can't actually be wanting something from you right now," Criss Darren added, "and if they are, Final Girl's right."

"It depends on if they're likewise threatening to take something away," the Chosen told them as he sat down, opening one of the pizza boxes.

"Doesn't matter—she's the one in charge whether they pretend they are or not. She's the one that can say no and end their careers," Final Girl said.

Augustus watched them over the top of his laptop and felt Brianna lean more into him, making him shift his glance to Regina who caught it as she sat down. She gave him a subtle nod of acknowledgment and picked up her drink to sip.

"Hey—I don't think this one's mine," Regina said, holding it out to Final Girl.

"What?" Final Girl asked, looking at her.

"Try it. I think it's someone else's," she said.

Final Girl rolled her eyes and took a drink from the straw, frowning. "No—this is yours."

"It tastes off! It's not mine."

"What were you supposed to get?" Criss Darren asked.

"Dr. Pepper," Regina said.

"That's Dr. Pepper!" Final Girl said.

"It tastes like Coke!" Regina argued.

"They only had Pepsi products there," the Chosen said.

"Okay, whatever—it tastes like Pepsi," Regina replied.

"You think I can't tell the difference?" Final Girl argued back.

"Don't you only drink off-brand?" the Chosen asked.

"Yes," Criss Darren cut in before Final Girl could.

"I can still tell," Final Girl snapped.

The half dilemma continued, with Augustus again managing to catch Regina's attention in the fray of it to mouth a "thank you" to her. She gave him a wink back as she swapped drinks back and forth with Criss Darren to figure out if theirs were switched or not before settling with just accepting hers.

Everyone dug into their food in time with, eventually, Brianna half turning to start picking at her salad, head still against Augustus. At the very least, she had put her phone away.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" Final Girl asked, mouth half full of burger as she spoke, "are we driving still?"

"I would prefer if we didn't," Regina said, "we've done a ton and I would love if we took a break, especially after today."

"Agreed," the Chosen, Augustus, and Criss Darren said.

Final Girl tossed her phone up onto the table and started searching with one of her fingers not covered in salt from her fries. "Well...we passed a state park about 20-30 minutes back the way we came that we might be able to take the RV to for the night."

"Would it be wise to backtrack?" the Chosen asked, looking specifically to Regina.

Regina stared down at the top of her shut to-go container as she held her drink between her fingers, considering it. Out of the edge of her vision, she spotted Brianna looking up at her expectantly, still wrapped up tight in her blanket.

"Screw it," Regina said, leaning back in her chair, "let's go camping."

***

Final Girl offered to drive them back towards Meramec since she was the one who found it and she wanted to make up for Regina having to take back over driving duties when she tried earlier that day. Regina let her, since that meant she had the chance to sit and talk with Brianna (hopefully with better results than at the gas station.)

Brianna was laid down in the bedroom, room only illuminated by a single light on the far side of the bed. She was curled up on the covers with her phone face down besides her chewing on her nail, eyes unfocused ahead of her. Regina hesitated in the doorway, then pulled the door shut and sat down on the edge of the bed across from her.

"Hi, Brianna," Regina said.

"I never try to be a problem," Brianna whispered, slipping her hand under her cheek.

Regina watched her close, then laid on the bed to face her. It wouldn't be her place to talk—it was Brianna's.

"I just want to be fun. I want people to have fun. I want them to be happy. I don't want...I don't want them to get hurt or be upset. I want everything to be good. I do what I can to make sure everyone around me is happy but...I don't know what I'm doing because I'm just doing what they want, so I don't know what to do when it's not for someone else. But...I just...I just want everything to be good for everyone, and I want to be able to do that for them," she said. Her lips pursed and she took a deep breath. "And it's weird, because then I met the Chosen and Augustus and they didn't...want things from me. They just...were them and were fine with me being..." she paused, "...I don't know. I don't know how I was because I don't— I didn't know how I was, but I've been...I've been...something. I'm almost someone." She held her hands out in front of her, fingers shaking as her eyes shimmered in the low light. "I feel like I can almost...touch the almost that I am even though I don't know what it is. Like it's barely there but it wants to be, but I don't know how to get it there, but they help me bring her...almost there."

Her hands shook as she breathed in hard. Regina took one of her hands in hers and squeezed it. Brianna swallowed.

"I've never had people who want to be around me without wanting something else...and it's scary," she continued, "everything was...for a reason. It was a video or a song or a photoshoot or money or a collab or...just something." She bit her lip. "Nothing was real. Everything was arranged by my manager or a team or someone. All the friendships, all the enemies, all the relationships." She blinked, a tear slipping down her face. "I've been divorced twice already. Neither time was long. One time was from Bryce and I still got back together with him afterwards. It was always set up as a stunt—the weddings and the divorce. It got views. Nothing's genuine."

Regina watched her lip quiver, face crumpling moments after.

"Except for them," Brianna sobbed.

"Oh, sweetie," Regina breathed before pulling her close to hold her tight as she cried.

"I just don't want to lose them!"

"You're not gonna lose them," Regina assured her.

"How do you know that?"

"Because when you have people that care about you this much, they aren't in the business of letting you go."

Brianna buried her face into Regina's neck, gripping her shirt as the tears continued to fall. Regina stroked her hair and let them flow.

***

The cutoff time for reserving a spot at the campground was 7pm, and they arrived there at 8:21pm. However, with some creative tweaking of a screenshot, they managed to make it look like they had reserved a spot before the cutoff. And with some equally creative talking from Regina when they found a ranger, they convinced him they had booked it right before and the site must have glitched out. He gave them the go ahead to stay the night as long as they promised to check with the office in the morning in case the payment didn't go through.

About half an hour after the RV was parked, Final Girl and Criss Darren had returned to the group post wandering off into the darkness, bearing...gifts.

Augustus eyed them as they approached. "What—?"

Criss Darren set the portable fire pit down within the dirt. "Don't ask."

Final Girl dropped the wood in her arms into it. "Don't ask."

Criss Darren lit the firewood. "Don't ask."

Final Girl, with a grin, pulled a bag of marshmallows from her backpack. "Don't ask."

Augustus continued to watch them.

"I wanna ask," he said.

"What did we just say?" Final Girl asked.

And after the folding chairs were pulled from the storage under the RV, the group was stationed around the fire roasting marshmallows.

Regina stretched, stick empty though she still held it to periodically poke into the flames, and she glanced over to Criss Darren besides her. A smirk crossed her face and he looked over to her. His face fell when he caught the glint in her eye.

"No," he said. Her smile grew and she nodded. "Absolutely not."

"What?" Brianna asked as she pulled her marshmallow off and leaned around Regina to look at him.

"I think we should play Truth or Dare," Regina said, eyes still locked on Criss Darren. Brianna gasped and grinned, eyes also locking onto Criss Darren.

"No—Regina—don't—" he warned.

"It's not gonna go as crazy as high school, we're adults, we can set limits," Regina said.

"How— hold on," Final Girl started, holding up a hand and turning to Criss Darren besides her, "how could you tell that's what she was thinking from a single look?"

"Our grade all through school had a problem when it came to Truth or Dare," Criss Darren said, "and you can thank—" he pointed to Regina, "—her."

Regina shrugged. "Oops."

"Is that really the best idea on a day where we spent most of it yelling at each other?" the Chosen asked Regina, sat across the fire pit from her.

Regina turned to him, then threw a marshmallow at him, making him laugh. "Shut up." She looked to the group. "If we're not jerks about it, we'll be fine. Again—we're adults. Act like it. Can we do that?"

"Says the woman who just threw a marshmallow at someone," Augustus replied, sat between the Chosen and Brianna.

Regina narrowed her eyes at him. "And I'll do it again."

Augustus smiled at her and held up his hands. She tossed him a marshmallow before turning her attention back to everyone.

"So—thoughts?" she asked.

"We should do it!" Brianna cheered.

"Just don't make us do anything too embarrassing," Final Girl begged.

"It's Truth or Dare," Regina said, holding out her stick towards Final Girl, "I'm immediately going to make you lick this."

"Ew, no," Final Girl said, "then I'm never picking Dare."

"You're gonna lick it," Regina whispered to her and laughed.

Criss Darren batted it away with a grin. "Who's going first?"

"Me because I suggested it in the first place, then we'll go clockwise," Regina said.

"And who asks or dares?" Final Girl asked.

"Whoever's got one," Criss Darren said, "it's wild west rules."

"So I pick Truth," Regina said, leaning back in her chair.

"You didn't wanna lick a stick?" Final Girl asked.

"That's what you're gonna do," Regina said.

"Bleh," Final Girl said, then pointed at her, "anyway: why'd you wanna go on the road trip?"

Regina nodded and stared at the fire for a moment.

"'Cuz I hate my parents," she replied, "and this reminds me of the only time when I was younger when I got to pretend they weren't my parents."

The group was quiet.

"That sucks," Final Girl said.

"Yeah," Regina laughed, "especially because they reminded me of why I hate them through this road trip." Regina prodded Criss Darren's foot. "Your turn."

"Dare," he said.

"You always picked Dare," Regina said.

"Because in high school people only ever wanted to ask about me being gay when I picked Truth," he replied.

Final Girl stuck her stick in his face. "Lick this."

"No!" he said and shoved it away.

"It's your Dare!" she said.

"What is your guys' obsession with the stick?" he asked.

"It's 'cuz you're gay!" she teased.

"I'm not licking the stick," he said.

"You are a coward."

"I watched you stick it in the ground!"

"You weren't supposed to see that."

"Final Girl!" Regina cut in.

"What?" Final Girl asked, pulling her stick back from Criss Darren and looking to her.

"Truth or Dare?" Regina asked.

Final Girl sighed. "Uh...Truth."

"So is it just a phase?" Augustus asked, crossing his arms.

"Is what a phase?" she asked. Augustus motioned to the entirety of her with a smirk. She glared at him. "Shut up."

The group laughed as she rolled her eyes, pulling her leg up into the seat with her.

"It's an eternal phase if it is," Criss Darren started, "you should see her bedroom—she calls it the Dungeon—"

"Shut your mouth—shut up—shut up!" Final Girl interrupted, slapping his chest and turning red in the face as he cackled.

"The Dungeon?!" Regina asked.

"No, he's lying! He made it up, it's not true!" she said and snapped her attention back to Criss Darren who was still laughing. "I hate you so much. I'm kicking you out of the apartment when we get back and I'm never talking to you again."

"No, it's okay—I've been to a dungeon before, it's totally cool!" Brianna said.

"Brianna, that's in D&D," the Chosen said.

Augustus whipped his head over to him. "Chosen, no—"

Brianna looked at the Chosen. "No, like, in person. With like, leather daddies and doms and stuff."

"Oh my gosh, no," Final Girl begged, putting her hood up over her head and pulling the cords tight before curling in on herself as Criss Darren and Regina howled with laughter.

The Chosen was quiet for a moment.

"Oh," he said.

"I tried to warn you," Augustus said.

"Mm-hm," he replied.

"What?" Brianna asked.

"Nothing," Augustus said and patted her shoulder, "don't worry about it."

Final Girl threw her head up and whipped her hood back, shooting a look to the Chosen. "Chosen—your turn. Go."

"I— uh— sure," the Chosen said and shook his head, "Truth."

Criss Darren collected himself, wiping a tear away and he glanced over to the Chosen, tossing a hand up. "Um...who's your best friend?"

Regina eyed Criss Darren, as did Final Girl when she finally twisted to face him again. The answer was obvious, so why ask? Criss Darren just shrugged. For him, he hadn't thought of another question, and he genuinely wasn't trying to find something serious. Brianna, meanwhile, watched the Chosen with a smile, likewise knowing the answer. Augustus, however, just watched the fire as the Chosen similarly studied it in an increasing quiet besides him.

"It's Augustus," the Chosen finally replied, breaking the silence.

The others spotted the tension in Augustus fade, but the Chosen wasn't done.

"It's always been Augustus," the Chosen continued, "even when we weren't talking. I hadn't found another person that I could consider a best friend in that time and I don't think I wanted to. Even then I knew there was only one person I wanted to have as my best friend, so it's always been Augustus."

It was quiet again. Augustus crossed his arms and kept watching the fire.

"Aw," Brianna said, still smiling.

The Chosen looked to Augustus. "It's your turn."

He nodded. "Dare."

Regina watched him for a moment, then her hand started to reach back for the stick besides her. Augustus spotted her move.

"You can do better than that," he said.

"No I can't," she said, then laughed.

***

Well after the game was finished and everyone else was finding places to sleep in the RV, the Chosen found Criss Darren outside making sure the fire pit had finished smoldering by the light of his phone. Criss Darren glanced up at him when he heard the steps creak in the stillness of the night.

"Hey," he said as he dumped the rest of the water in the bottle into the basin.

"How does it look?" the Chosen asked, walking over to his side.

"Fine," he replied, "I need to take it back over to the couple me and Final Girl borrowed it from."

"So you two didn't just steal it from someone's camp like you convinced everyone?" the Chosen asked with a grin as he crossed his arms.

"No," Criss Darren laughed, "there's two women on a cross country trip a few spots down that said we could use it as long as we brought it back when we were done." He smiled up at him. "But don't tell anybody else that."

The Chosen nodded. "I swear to guard your secret."

Criss Darren paused. "Could you also swear to carry my phone and go with me so I can see where I'm going while I walk this back? I can't do both."

The Chosen pulled a flashlight from one of the many pockets on his cargo shorts and clicked it on.

"I should've guessed," Criss Darren said.

"Always prepared," the Chosen replied.

"Were you a Boy Scout?"

"Briefly."

"That makes sense."

Criss Darren lifted up the fire pit and the two started off down the dark roads between the camps, quiet breezes rustling the trees above them. The flashlight cast a pale glow across the path in front of them, yet only let them see each other in faint outlines.

"So," Criss Darren started as they walked, "I wanted to offer something."

"Alright," the Chosen replied.

"You have your," he considered his words, "ambitions of joining the CIA. My dad was once part of the Secret Service. I could...see if he could use his connections and get you in touch if you wanted."

The Chosen was quiet.

"It's a possibility," he said.

Criss Darren glanced to him. "What's making you hesitate?"

The Chosen frowned. "Do you...?"

The silence sat between them for a time as the Chosen thought through how he wanted to say it.

"Do you ever find it hard to try accomplishing what you want because acknowledging your goals means you have to admit time is passing, so you delay them instead?" the Chosen asked.

Criss Darren looked ahead and sighed. "Sometimes." He turned back to the Chosen. "But time's going to pass anyway, so you might as well go for your dreams."

The Chosen watched the ground.

"I'll consider it," he said.

Chapter Text

As soon as the office opened at 9am, Regina and Criss Darren were up and heading over to pay, apologizing profusely for the errors from the website that caused such a problem and thanking the rangers for letting them stay anyway. And to make sure they were as little problem as possible, they were out of the park by 9:15.

Everyone else stayed well asleep for a good chunk of that morning, not that either Regina or Criss Darren minded. He was driving and she was hanging out to keep him company, getting introduced to Hadestown and relistening to Legally Blonde (her request) as they headed towards Indianapolis.

The first sign of life in the cabin was after they were too caught up singing "Whipped Into Shape." Final Girl hung over their seats, eyes half dead and hair a mess from where she had slept next to Criss Darren on the booth (that converted into a bed when the table was put down.)

"Coffee," she mumbled.

"In Indiana," Regina said. Final Girl groaned.

"You can have my other Doubleshot in the fridge," Criss Darren said. Final Girl groaned again and turned back to go fetch it, shuffling her feet all the way.

She had it half downed by the time she had finished fixing her hair and washing her face in the bathroom and it barely did anything to wake her up. Even The Killers blasting in her earbuds wasn't doing much to get her focused.

Then, as she was drying her face off with the bottom of the oversized t-shirt over shorts she slept in, a text notification interrupted her music and finally caught her attention. She wiped the water from her eyes and tapped the screen to pull it up.

Augustus sent an image

Final Girl arched an eyebrow, then opened the text.

It was a Twilight meme. And instead of Bella admitting that Edward was a vampire, Augustus had edited it to say "Cringe."

She bit her tongue, trying not to smile. It was so stupid.

And also...exactly something she would've made if she thought about it first.

Despite all her reservations about bringing him along, she had grown to appreciate his company. He could be fun to talk to in the right conversation, and he could be pretty resourceful when it seemed he needed to be (or at least when Brianna had needed it.) But that didn't matter to Final Girl—being resourceful for friends meant the same as being resourceful to yourself to her.

He could just kind of be a little loud and over step some boundaries from time to time. But, to be fair, when she was comfortable, so did she.

She saved the picture and grabbed her drink before stepping out of the bathroom. Sat at the booth (now set back up the way it usually was) was Augustus, scrolling through his phone and also looking like he'd just woken up from the back bedroom where he, the Chosen, and Brianna had spent the night. How they'd fit the three of them back there was a mystery to Final Girl, but whatever worked for them.

For a moment she hesitated, then came over and sat on the other side from him.

"Morning," she said as she took her earbuds out. He glanced up at her.

"Morning," he said.

"I liked the meme," she said.

"It's bespoke."

She smiled. "Cool."

He looked back to his phone and she played with the tab on the can.

"I'm sorry I've been a jerk," she started, catching his attention again. "I try not to be but...I'm not...good with new people. Especially if I don't get to have space to get away for a while." She snapped the tab off. "And you're...not useless. That was super out of line to say." She turned and tossed the tab over her shoulder to land in a mug on the far side of the sink behind her. "And you're kind of cool. In like—a dorky way."

She turned back to him, holding her drink in both hands and looking down into it as she thumbed the edge.

"Well I kind of want to argue about you calling me 'dorky' but," he started, "you just did that so nonchalantly that I feel like if somebody knows what cool looks like, it'd be you even if I did call you cringe five minutes ago."

Final Girl laughed.

"So instead I'll ask you something else," he said.

"Okay," she said, watching him.

"Those Vocaloid songs I showed you the other day—did you listen to any of them?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Yeah, a couple."

"And?"

"I liked the ones with the Gumi girl."

"Ah—good choice."

"People keep calling her a Megpoid, though, so I guess that's not technically a Vocaloid?"

"Oh, yeah," he scoffed and waved a hand, "a common misconception."

Final Girl blinked. "What's the difference?"

Augustus smirked.

"Is this gonna be like me with Babymetal?" she asked.

"Mm-hm," he said and crossed his arms. Final Girl laughed and shook her head, then leaned back in the booth.

"Alright," she said, "let's go."

***

The Chosen was the first one back on the RV in Indianapolis. He still had leftover pizza from the night before, so he hadn't wanted anything much to eat from the stop like everyone else did (and Criss Darren was busy filling up the RV for his turn to pay.) Plus, he had been strategic on all the other stops, so his usual staples were in the fridge and cabinets. There wasn't much he needed (so he could stay back in the bedroom and play Zelda some more.)

Soon after he discovered another shrine, he heard a knock on the wall that broke his focus. Brianna was leaned around the doorway, hesitant smile on her face.

"Greetings, Brianna," he said.

"Hi," she said, "are you busy?"

He glanced at his Switch. "No."

"Are you sure?"

He paused the game and set it aside. "I'm sure."

"Okay," she said, stepping into the room, hesitating, then sitting on her knees on the bed in front of him. The Chosen watched her as her eyes wandered away in thought, hands raised and lips parting as she tried to start what she wanted to say but struggled. She shook her head. "I've practiced this all morning and I still can't..."

"It's okay," he said.

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, then looked at him.

"I messed up," she said, "I did something so...terribly wrong that was..." he watched her try to remember the words, "...just such a violation of our friendship and I shouldn't have done it. I really wish I had thought for, like, two seconds more about what I was doing instead of just doing it. It wasn't cool of me and it wasn't okay. You're super important to me and I really value you and our friendship and I don't want to lose that because it means so much to me. I put that in so much jeopardy and it wasn't okay what I did." She hesitated, taking another deep breath. "And I get it if you don't forgive me because what I did was awful and I completely understand if you stay mad at me even though it hurts."

The Chosen watched her stare down at her hands, picking at her nails, polish still bright.

"I forgive you," he said.

Her eyes shot up to him, full of frightful hope.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," he repeated.

Brianna squealed and threw herself onto him, hugging him tight. At first, he recoiled at the sudden touch. Then, after a moment, hugged her back.

***

For the over 2,300 miles the trip had taken them, the RV had held up fine. Regina had had her worries with all the different people driving it, but it turned out she had nothing to worry about. They had all turned out to be safe drivers, even during a couple different close calls.

It wasn't until Cleveland and when she was driving that there was a problem.

"So we can't pick it up until tomorrow?" Regina asked the tow truck driver as the group hung out along the roadside with her.

"Nope," the man said, "that's what happens when you get a flat at 8:30 at night with no spares for something this size."

Regina rubbed the back of her neck, then turned to Brianna besides her and whispered: "I'm gonna kill someone."

Brianna held her hand up to Regina's ear and whispered back: "Then I think we'll be on the run for more than just the museum."

Regina took a deep breath.

"We'll pick it up tomorrow," Regina told the driver. The man nodded and handed her his card. The group shouldered their things they had pulled off the RV and started heading off towards the hotel Criss Darren had already called while she had been having her back and forth.

"So what are we supposed to do for another night?" Augustus asked as they walked through the city. "Because Truth or Dare was fun and all, but I'm not doing it two nights in a row."

"There's a karaoke bar," Final Girl said as she tapped through her phone, "it's got private rooms."

Brianna gasped and hurried to catch up to look over her shoulder at it. Augustus eyed Final Girl.

"I would not see you as someone who'd suggest karaoke," he said. Final Girl gave him a look back with Criss Darren joining her soon after.

"You should see us when we cook," Criss Darren said.

"Gladly," Augustus said, "I will never turn down food."

"Deal," Final Girl said, "when we get back home—you're all coming over for dinner. Everybody." She pointed back to the Chosen. "You hear that?"

"I didn't say I wasn't coming," the Chosen laughed.

"I was just making sure," she said with a smile.

***

It didn't take long to check into the hotel and then find the karaoke place—with Brianna insisting on paying for both (her phone worked this time.)

"I have money now, real money!" she said before turning to Augustus and hugging him. "Thank you so much."

"Of course," he replied, then pointed at her, "don't let Bryce convince you to do it again."

"I'm not ever letting Bryce near me again," she said as they headed into the karaoke room they booked that the other three had already found.

"Good," the Chosen said.

As they filed in, they found the others scrolling through the song options on their phones. Brianna busied herself with scanning the code they already had as the Chosen and Augustus got comfortable (neither intending to join in the festivities.) All of the sudden, Criss Darren shot up from where he was lounging on the sofa.

"Found it!" Criss Darren said.

"Wait, they have it?!" Final Girl asked and got up to look at Criss Darren's phone.

"Then put it on!" Regina said, also standing to join them.

Brianna watched them. "What is it?"

Final Girl just threw her arms out and let out an excited shout that made Brianna laugh. Brianna hurried to sit with the other two, the Chosen noticing her considering keeping her phone out to record, then setting it behind her so she could ignore it. Augustus turned to the Chosen as the three who apparently knew what was going on grabbed the microphones.

"What is going on?" he asked.

"I don't—" the Chosen started, right as the title of the song came on the screen. That's when it clicked. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "—oh, not this."

"Why are they freaking out over 'Don't Trust Me' by 3OH!3?" Brianna asked him.

"When we first started training, this is the only song the three of them could agree on," the Chosen explained, "so it became their favorite song to play in the van."

"Shut up, it's starting!" Regina, Final Girl, and Criss Darren shouted at the Chosen, all pointing at him. He put his hands up as Augustus and Brianna laughed.

***

Final Girl was caught up scrolling through the songs list, too absorbed in looking for something for herself to really pay much attention to what new song was starting at the moment or who was doing it. They had all been going for a while and having a blast, so her attention was getting divided to one topic at a time.

Except, in the middle of searching, her ear finally picked up on a chord that she recognized. A slow build she hadn't heard in some time, but boy did she know it. 'Why Can't I?' by Liz Phair. Sure, a popular song in its time, but there was an iceberg behind it for Final Girl.

And yet—who picked it for karaoke if it wasn't her?

She glanced up, immediately spotting Regina holding her phone up to Criss Darren to try and get him to hear some video she had saved on her phone, probably to figure out what song was in it to see if he could identify it so she could find it. Obviously not them. And the Chosen and Augustus weren't participating, so...

Final Girl looked over and, sure enough—it was Brianna singing.

She watched and listened and...

Brianna definitely knew the song. Knew the notes, knew the words, definitely liked it—but there was something...different about how she sang it. The song was supposed to be about an affair between two people in already committed relationships. But the way she emphasized the words in the chorus, the line about "someone who wants to be with you, too," the almost depth of despair to it all.

She sang it like a break up song. And Final Girl was fascinated. There was such intensity to the interpretation in an artistic and personal way that made it so real. So unique and vivid in the subtle ways she took it that Final Girl knew no one else would really be catching it, but she could because she could see that Brianna could really think about music. Even if it wasn't the way anybody else was reading it, hearing it, or even meant it, she was thinking about it.

When Brianna was finished, she turned back around to see who was next, Regina reaching for the mic and getting up.

"They didn't have what I wanted," Regina said, "but I found something else."

"Okay!" Brianna said, smiling.

Brianna hurried out of her way, Final Girl scooting over from where she sat to subtly invite Brianna to sit besides her. Brianna did so and grabbed her drink from the table.

"I didn't know you liked Liz Phair," Final Girl told her as Regina's song started.

"I really only know that one song," Brianna admitted. Final Girl nodded.

"I'm gonna show you Exile in Guyville," she said, "I think you'll like 'Soap Star Joe.' It might help you get over somebody."

Brianna smiled. "Yeah, absolutely! I'd love to hear it."

Final Girl smiled back. "Cool."

***

Nearing the end of the two hours they booked, the four that had been singing were still discovering new songs in the depths of the searches.

Criss Darren elbowed Final Girl who was stood next to him as he scrolled through the songs on his phone. "Oh my gosh, they've got the best song ever."

The Chosen looked up at him. "What song?"

Criss Darren smiled at him. "The best song ever."

"Okay," Augustus said, arching an eyebrow as he sat besides the Chosen, "but what song is it?"

Final Girl twirled the mic in her hand around. "The only good One Direction song he's allowed to play at the apartment."

"You like it, too," Criss Darren said as he queued the song up.

"That's why you can play it," she said.

"Glad you can agree on it," Augustus said and rolled his eyes, "but what's it called?"

As the song's instrumental began, Brianna's eyes shot up from her phone. "Oh my gosh—is this the best song ever?"

"Yeah," Criss Darren said.

"Mics," Regina said, reaching out towards Final Girl as she pulled Brianna with her off the sofa, "we're joining."

Final Girl handed them the mics as they joined them in the center of the room. The Chosen shook his head.

"Are any of you going to tell us what this song is called?" he asked.

The four whipped around to him and, in unison, replied: "The best song ever!"

And, on the screen behind them, the title appeared. 'Best Song Ever' by One Direction.

The Chosen and Augustus watched with crossed arms as the group spun back around to start singing.

"You've got to be kidding me," the Chosen mumbled.

"These are the people we've decided to hang out with," Augustus said.

The Chosen sighed with a grin. "We have unique friends."

Augustus smirked, then paused before looking at the Chosen. "Did you mean everything you said about us being best friends last night? Even when we...weren't?"

"Of course," the Chosen replied, "I was bound by the rules of Truth or Dare. I wouldn't betray that."

"Alright," Augustus nodded, then added: "you're my best friend, too."

The Chosen nodded back and the two continued to watch everyone dance around and enjoy themselves.

***

The RV was done at 11:00am the next day (Brianna paid—her insistence, again) and they were on the road by 11:12am because Regina was determined to make up for lost time.

"We're so close to Boston, I'm gonna lose it," she said.

"I can only drive it so fast—do you want another flat tire? My gosh," Final Girl replied, shooing her away from the front. Brianna giggled from the passenger seat as Regina huffed and headed back, settling down into a game of Magic: the Gathering with Augustus instead. (Of course, this was after the two kicked Criss Darren and the Chosen out of the booth—they could study the library book together elsewhere.)

At 3:02pm, they stopped in Henrietta, New York. Despite paying for so much, Brianna paid for this stop, too.

"I told you—I'm making up for things!" Brianna told Regina, swiping her phone over the pump.

"You didn't need to do this one!" Regina laughed.

"I'm making up for it!" she insisted.

"You're forgiven!" she said and hugged her, making Brianna laugh as well. "Stop paying for things!"

Augustus took over driving to the next stop, the Chosen keeping him company up front since Regina knew she could trust him to drive without worry. In the cabin, the other four were filling Brianna in on bits of trivia from their old road trip days—though it was mainly ridiculous stories from training that devolved into teasing each other more than anything. Periodically, the Chosen would have to interject from the front to defend himself, and Augustus was no help since he was very much aiding in the teasing in his own part (though the Chosen was laughing through it as well.)

They reached Lee, Massachusetts at 7:20pm, with the Chosen paying for this final stop.

"It's symbolic," he told Regina.

"You forgot to pay until now, didn't you?" she asked him.

He watched her.

"Just let me say it's symbolic," he said and swiped his card.

"Oh my gosh," she laughed.

Regina was behind the wheel once they were all back on board, taking charge of the PA system when everything was up and moving again.

"Ladies and hunters of potential Gentlemen," she began, voice echoing through the RV, "we have less than two hours before we arrive at Mr. Grub's." She paused as the cabin cheered, making her smile. "We hope you've had a pleasant ride on the O'Brien Luxury RV Line despite the hiccups we've had along the way. One final piece of advice to send us along our way from the man himself that definitely fits our universe—" she cleared her throat and tried to mimic Mr. Grub's voice, "—'if you ever find yourself on the way to a meeting with God or the Devil, you better hope you have the power to kill them both.'"

The group laughed, with Final Girl shaking her head.

"That man was insane," she said.

"And now," Regina continued, tapping on her phone, "a likewise fitting selection of music."

The PA cut out and, through the speakers, 'Growing On Me' by The Darkness began to play. The other Jokes' faces all lit up in recognition.

"This is what he always played in the van!" Final Girl said.

"He would listen to this?!" Augustus asked.

"They all memorized the lyrics so he would keep playing it," the Chosen replied.

Brianna turned to Criss Darren. "I thought you hated metal?"

"Not if it kept him from playing talk radio!" he said, making her laugh.

As the others all continued to relive the nostalgia of it, Regina took a deep breath and smiled, watching the headlights on the sunset streaked road ahead and listening to the song swell around her.

***

Two hours.

The chief had gotten the address of this supposed substitute that trained the culprits, and he lived near Boston. That was no doubt where they had been headed the whole time.

Sarah Christ changed courses—instead of trying to predict where they were at from their stops along the way, she was going straight to that address.

And now, she only had two hours to go.