January sits against a wall, her head resting beneath her saddened head. She had signed the Mystic Contract in order to be given a chance to expose the true culprit and save her friends, though now was forced to participate in yet another game. The wall she sits against is different than the last: a chrome plating hiding the real wall from sight. Her room glows a bright white, which blinded her as she first awoke from a deep slumber, illuminated by small white-blue lights indented within the similar looking ceiling. To her right, an air duct cuts into the wall, allowing for a perfect escape, though January was unable to reach it at her height. Standing on the tips of her toes yielded her with information from the other "players", and she had already learned some of their names.
Two of the players seemed to know each other, January remarked. They called themselves Raymond and Francesca; one male, one female according to their voices, though it could have been a trick from the vents. They seemed nice enough, thought January with a small, sad, smile. She hoped they wouldn't die.
The game that she had been entered into was via a contract. The man with the grey hair told her that it was the Mystic Contract, and it could rewrite time even better than the Enigma Contract could. The one catch: only the last man standing could get their wish.
"That's it." January hears through the shaft in the wall. It was a male. He spoke rarely, with his voice reminding him of her friend, and fellow Enigma Contractor, Ethan. "I ain't waiting around here for some fucktard to show up." She heard a few grunts as one of the grates that locked out their little social network was torn off its hinges, shattering as it was dropped to the ground. Seconds later, she heard a grunt, and then metallic clanks as, she supposed, he crawled through the air duct.
Francesca must have seen him, as the two began having a conversation.... or an argument. January tuned the two disturbances out as she created a game plan in her head. Stay back and lay low. she thought as the boy in the vents whooped in succession.
January wasn't the only silent contender in this game, for several walls separated an older, blonde-haired girl named Alyssa. She didn't speak to those in the vents, considered most of the idiotic, and tuned them out almost instantaneously. Her sole goal was to find a way out of her prison of chrome white.
She rapped her knuckles against one of the wall's plating, creating an echo that caused an uproar with some of those in other rooms. She stomped her feet on the ground, earning her even more complaints that never seemed to let out. Jeez. she thought. Do they want us to die in here?
As she thought that, however, a whoop rang throughout the vent, startling her as she sprang into a defensive pose. "I found a button here sayin' release! Let's get out of here already!" a male's voice shouted; made only louder through the megaphone of vents connecting their rooms.
She suspected that he hit it, as seconds later her door opened; a circular panel rotating in place as if acting as a locking mechanism. She peered out of her room and down the halls. No one. Everyone else must be too busy celebrating to investigate. she thought as she strode off down the long shite corridor, her hands in the pockets centred on her hoodie.
Two silhouettes watched a large monitor, which showed twelve smaller video feeds, each of the rooms of all 12 contestants. The door slid open on the feed they watched, and they eagerly awaited the first to leave the room; the prime bait.
"Report to the Doc?" the taller silhouette asks, as she turns to him, looking up from the wheelchair in which she sits.
The girl's eyes seem to die for a moment, her eyes a dull blue colour as she stares off into space. The male shrugs. "Maybe in a bit."
The girl's eyes remain locked on the monitor. It was not the first time she had seen a situation similar to this, but only now did she understand the consequences of the Contracts.
I don't want you to die. she thought as she stared at the figures on the monitor.