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"Lets bet on the name of players who would survive till day 7 or the number of people who will die by the end of the day," She didn't give it much thought, but it sounded like an interesting thing o bet on, even if it was rather morbid, "Not that I know when the end of the day will be... Alright, how about betting on the names of those who will live then? We get a name in each~ You lose if the person you name show up in this room."

How very morbid indeed, but she was starting to feel neutral about it. Sure, there was that part of her - the morally upright part? - that felt uncomfortable with the idea, but it was a small, small part of her... And she was determined to ignore it.

"So, how about it?" She shrugged, "Either way, you lose the nickname... Win-win for you? You can stop me by winning, or you can act young and make me lose the nickname."

"I bet on Beta Four," She didn't even bother to think about who she was betting on; that guy, while lacking balls, managed to shoot 3 enemy players in a row just by flailing about nervously. That's some awesome luck right there. Besides, he was the one who named her 'Boss', so he should get some screen time, even if she was using his name in a morbid betting game.

Heh, maybe this will jinx him and send him down here to be with her, causing her to lose this game.

"Beta against Beta," She laughed before tapping a finger on his gas mask, "You have balls to bet on my team member, but all's fair in death and war. I accept... HAHAHAH, Teeth and Before. I wonder which of them will fail me now."

Conversations pricked around the room, flaring up and then dying out like signal fires. Eta IV was not part of them. The only words spared for her came from Gamma III, brief and only vaguely comforting. They had chased windmills together calling them giants and fell from grace for the effort. Her eyes could not leave the door, even when asked. It stood like a beacon illuminating her mind. How did the others look away from it? How did they resist the urge to run wildly into it?

If Eta IV had lived in Eden, she would have eaten the apple.
If Eta IV had traveled to the moon, she would have taken that one small step.
If Eta IV had entered the Matrix, she would have swallowed the red pill.

Ignorance was not bliss, not for her. She had the nagging sense it never had been. The promise of death was an end to suffering, but under the weight of her emptiness, Eta IV suffered still. No peace would come to a heavy heart and weary mind. She fought for meaning in nothingness and had come up empty-handed. She had lost her mind and then found it again, but her memories remained elusive, erased, gone -- or perhaps never there at all. It ate at her like a cancer, hurt her worse than that scythe had when it cleaved her cleanly in two.

Others rankled to see those who had been their undoing. Eta IV did not. She would have struck them down if the weapon had been placed in her hands. She would have crawled over a mountain of dead bodies crushed underfoot if it meant salvation. How could any of them blame the others? They did what they had to do. They made possible choices in an impossible situation -- a situation in which they had, apparently, elected to participate.

There were very few things that Eta IV was certain of in this strange place. Since the first time she woke up on that island, terror and uncertainty had wracked her brain. Now she sat at a bar, staring at a door that called to her. Through the door, there had to be answers. Through that door, she hoped for the truth that continued to evade her in death. What was a life without a purpose? What was a future without a past?

For all of the things that she did not know, Eta IV could feel that she was a person who demanded answers, who craved connections between the dots of her own starry sky. Her glove remained perched loosely around the glass of whiskey. She pushed it back and forth on the bar, let it scratch in wet drags.

There would be no tears from Eta IV, and no goodbyes. A road stretched ahead of her, and it was one she knew she had to walk down alone. In death, they were all alone, but perhaps through that door she would not be, not forever. Perhaps, in crossing into blackness, she would find comfort in it. Maybe it would wrap around her like a blanket. Maybe she would finally be put to rest.

Slowly, Eta IV rose from her chair. She brushed gloved fingertips across Gamma Three's shoulder. There was no hesitation in her footsteps, no spared glances for the others, no shuddering breaths of unease and fear, no cautious pause at the threshold, fingers gripping the edge of existence. No. There was only Eta IV, a door, and the promise of something beyond it.

One moment she was there in the lounge, and the next --

She was gone.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw someone headed towards the door. Though by the time he had looked to see who it was, they were already gone.

Turning towards yVII as he chimed in with his own bet, yII stared with amusement, still grinning. That just made things a little more interesting.

"Oh?" he started, remembering the guy mention eta 9 when they were travelling to the lighthouse. It seemed that he had taken somewhat of a fondness for her or something along those lines.

"Alright. So what are you gonna bet?" he added. If he was gonna chip in, he may as well go all the way with it.

Three took a moment to reassess his opinion of Fiver II, just staring at the other for a long moment from behind his mask's goggles. Honestly, the logic that the younger had used was positively astounding, something that Three had once thought that Fiver II was not at all capable of. Of taking orders, realizing the rationality behind following the more intelligent. But...for once, Three himself had been outdone, and though the other was taking away one of his favorite pleasures, that of lording mental superiority over the thickheaded and ignorant, he had to recognize that what had come from II's lips had been....wise, in its own way. "I daresay I cannot argue with that." He murmured, something in his voice perhaps more than a touch sulky.

He so very much hated being outdone. "For the purposes of remaining in a state of pseudo-living in this...strange place, I will hold my tongue." They didn't know the outcome of anything, after all, especially now what would happen if a fight broke out amidst those who were already deceased. And if naught else, Three very much remembered being sliced in half by the arrogant a** over there at the bar. Tch. Impolite brute. "A shame we haven't past lives to share and reminisce about, which is what I suppose most people would be doing should they find themselves in this situation." He murmured wryly, tossing an annoyed glance towards the dark, gaping door. The afterlife, the end, whatever waited past there...honestly Three wasn't sure it was worth it. He hated making such decisions without having some idea of the outcome.

Without much surprise, A7 took the rebuff in stride. He deserved it. He knew it. Z3 was right, though. They were dead - and there wasn't a thing they could do about it now.

No sense in sitting around mourning the inevitable.

"All right then." A7 patted Z3's shoulder roughly. "I'm sorry again, brother. I'm gonna go, you probably don't want me around. If you do, though - I'll pour you a drink. We can't drink it, but that wont' stop me from wasting the reserves."

A7 lurched off of the couch, heading back to the bar. He decided the other side was more interesting this time, and put one hand on the bar to give himself a push up. His legs slid over the surface, and stomped back on the ground behind the bar. When he took a good look at what rested behind it, he let out a low whistle.

"Not bad.. this place must be a great spot for people who don't have to wear masks. Kind of wish that was us." He muttered, mostly to himself, as he pulled out bottle after bottle until the bottom of the bar was empty.

If he was going out, he was taking as much alcohol with him.

The bar was now littered with bottles of all shape, color, and size. He pulled out a tumbler, and filled it with tequila. Setting it on the table, he pinged it with his finger.

It let out a keen, thrumming sound.

"..Huh. If we can't drink it.."

He started pulling glasses out, one by one, until there was over a dozen on the bar as well. There was little room for everyone else.

Had A7 finally lost his mind?

Fiver II smiled softly at Three which he hope he felt even though he couldn't see it. He was proud of himself. Three had complimented him and Fiver had agreed to stay put. None of them would be fighting.

Good. His hand found Three's and he entertained his fingers. "Thank you..." He chuckled slightly. "I would only be happy if we three had known each other in our past lives. But we can just sit and enjoy each others' company, yes? Or... we could all three..." His eyes fell on Fiver, "go together."