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(ENTER: Alex Tarquin from Those Who Play The Most Dangerous Game)

Truth be told, Alex felt a little bit like he was going mad.

He tried to make sure there was no trace of that uncertainty on his face. He loped down the long cliffs easily enough, the ridiculous sword on his back adjusted so it didn't bang against his thighs as he ran. He made sure to keep the machete in his left hand pointed down (no running with scissors, blade pointed down! simple safety procedures in the middle of this lunatic place), and periodically adjusted his heavy bag. In fact, he allowed himself to smile slightly. Alexander David Tarquin does not fear your insane island! Alex Tarquin is confident! Alex Tarquin cracks wise in the face of danger!

Alex Tarquin feels like he is about to vomit.

Worse than any stage fright of his life. The anxiety of performance plus the drained aftertaste of an adrenaline rush testifying to the fact that he is jumping at every sound he hears. He is trying to hide that fact: when he hears something, he does not snap his head but turns it imperiously, as though surveying his domain. And as he does it, he has to fight every instinct in his body, every muscle in his neck screaming to see this potential danger sooner.

How ridiculous he must seem! Reluctant, melodramatic movements! And this outfit! Red satin shirt and designer jeans, what the hell was he thinking? This was a science trip long before it became a death trap, and he is not dressed for either one! He is in desperate need of a change of clothes. He must look the part, yes, but he must also be ready to act the part, and this outfit will not do.

There is another part to his facade, one he could never have confessed to Tara and Lizzie, though he came close when Tara hung on the cliff's edge. It is vanity. They are on camera. They will die. That has its role here: one day the whole world will watch, and Alex Tarquin cannot allow the idea that he will die ingloriously.

So. Find the right clothes. Make sure he looks the part.

He stopped at a comfortable lea, examined his map for the first time. Was this...were they in an asylum of some kind? He imagined they found that funny: a lunatic asylum host to sane students driven mad by necessity. Though it was hard to argue the possible symbolism involved. He'd have to look into that.

stupid stupid stupid this place is real you're going to die

He swallowed down that ugly thought, and headed for the main warehouse located by the docks. It took him a little time to pick his way across overgrown roads and uneven slopes, and as he drew closer he spied two figures, standing near what seemed to be the entrance to the building. He hesitated, remembering the boy from the video, remembering Mr. Graham. His confident smile flickered out. His eyes bugged wide, and his grip tightened on his machete.

no no no cameras all around you stop acting even for a moment and they will see they will know you're not larger than life you could die just like Mr. Graham just click and gone while you sleep no no no no no

A smile unfolded across his face, masking his panicked thoughts. "HELLO!" he shouted, raising his right hand in a careless wave, striding towards them as though his legs weren't shaking at the idea that there was a gun in one of their hands that they would pull and fire and he would fall just like that-
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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."

V5 Players

V4 Players
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