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Grim Wolf
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The Very Best
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They sat in silence. Belle kept her flashlight on; the thought that she might be in danger as a result didn't even occur to her. She simply didn't want to sit in the dark; she wanted to take in the full reality of her circumstances, to feel the danger and life of her decision.

She helped Liz, as the other, injured girl ate. She pulled the bag off her shoulder, set it next to hers. Didn't look through it; she didn't want to antagonize the girl she was relying on.

Without any warning, Liz sat up and got to her feet. She had a pen and paper underneath one arm; she pulled these out and scrawled something out on it. It took Belle a moment to work out the haphazard scrawl, though she was admittedly distracted by how tired and hurt the goth girl looked. The message itself--the question--took another few seconds to register. Why would Liz need Belle's permission to destroy the cameras? It was what she'd been doing, and it wasn't like they could...

Oh.

Belle's hand fluttered towards the collar around her neck (bound like a dog, those sons of bitches) and then back down to her knee. She took in a steadying breath and focused on Master Xiang--to fight is to be out of peace to fight is to lose to flow is to be at your center to flow is victory in itself. She focused on her father (they'll try and goad you into being aggressive, Belle, and you need to watch for that, you need every advantage you can get) and her mother (risk is inherent in dreams you don't get to pick and choose and even if you lose you gained something if you accepted the possibility of loss).

She had sought out Liz Polanski herself. She was not going to back down now that there was danger.

Belle nodded.

In spite of her attempts to reassure herself, Belle was never more terrified than when Liz made her way around their little cavern room, knifing each camera in turn. Each crackling stab was an electric thrill in Belle's stomach, a flare of adrenaline that made all her limbs feel weak. She could taste the flat, dead rush on her tongue...

Her collar did not go off. She did not end up a decapitated, bleeding wreck. She was, in fact, quite alive.

Liz returned and tossed a crumpled sheet of paper at Belle's bag. Belle started to move for it before she saw that Liz had started to write something on her notepad again. Belle read each message in turn.

Okay.

Belle glanced down to the plan Liz had offered her. It was interesting; she could get rid of this damn collar, she could rebel, she could wander the dangerzones and keep away from the players. She could, in fact, become unstoppable. She could survive.

But that wouldn't be victory. Not really.

"You're clearly smarter than I am, Liz," Belle said. "So I'll assume the stupidity you're displaying is a result of how tired you are and not of actual mental disadvantage." She smiled. "They have offered a bounty on you, Liz. They are going to come hunting. The one who kills you may survive."

She broke off.

"This can wait, however," Belle said thoughtfully. "Because you look quite tired and I need you alive if you're going to get us out of here. So, here's what you're going to do. You are going to sit back down, and you are going to take these clothes," and she dug out the old clothes she had stored in her bag from when she'd changed into her martial arts gi. "And make yourself as comfortable as possible. You are going to get two hours of sleep, at least. And when you wake up, I'm going to tell you what I need from you." Liz opened her mouth to protest and Belle shook her head, her eyes flaring. "I won't lie to you and say I won't force myself on you, because god damn it I'm betting everything on you, but you look rough. So." She pointed down to the clothes she'd arranged in makeshift bed on the ground. "You are going to sleep," Belle ordered. "And we will talk when you wake up."

She needed Liz Polanski to be less of a wreck. That was the only way any of them were making it out of this alive.
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

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