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"I..." A-Two stared at the others. She was outnumbered. Logic - her every instinct - dictated that she bow to the will of the group. Follow the crowd.

... but she was tired. And scared. And it occurred to her that maybe, just maybe... the Phoenix Squad, alone of all the groups she'd treasured in her own life (barely remembered, but she knew in her bones that disagreement was not tolerated) might let her be tired. And scared. And not destroy her for it.

She took a deep breath. "Y-yes. Yes. I want to stay here," she said, tentatively at first, but louder as she gained confidence. "I... I will, like... wait here. For you. Um. Though, like, I hope you don't, like... come back..." she added hurriedly. "I mean, I do, but like... um... ohyouknowwhatImean."

Her gaze darted across the group, and her movements were nervous and fluttery. She'd never defied a group like this before, and she was instinctively afraid of the repercussions. It was writ large in her body language.

A7 backed away from the board, pleased as punch. He just barely heard the quiet conversation that was going on between A2 and A9, but when the latter turned to ask if she was wanted, he surged towards them and lifted her up in one arm.

"You kidding? OF COURSE we want you. We've got a second chance to show the boss what we were made of. Win or lose, we can't let him down."

But it seemed even his excitement couldn't convince A2 of the idea, and he slowly let A9 down to drop to his knees in front of A2.

He couldn't blame her. He was scared, too. In fact, it was the only reason he'd signed up in the first place - if she was going to pass up on this last chance at life, then she was braver than he could ever be.

He plucked A2 into his arms, pulling her close for a hug. His head leaned just slightly, to whisper softer than he'd ever managed - it was a whisper meant just for her.

"You're stronger than I could ever be. I almost wish you weren't, because it hurts to think you're not coming with us. It won't feel the same, without you by our side."

A-Two smiled under her mask; while she twitched a little at the hug - squish, squish, no squish - it was gentle, and the hideous crush of the walls was starting to fade into nightmare territory rather than immediate memory. "Thanks," she whispered back, pulling away and ending up hugged again, this time by A-Nine.

... This had never happened before, or at least, hadn't happened for a very long time... where she had asserted her will, and no harm had come to her because of it. Her will, not what someone else said, expecting to be obeyed. "I'll, like, hold down the fort... but I'll miss you guys," she said, looking at the others too. Come back soon seemed entirely inappropriate, though, given what they had to go through to get here.

"I better, like, see you guys again. Somehow."

A7 patted her back, letting out a throaty laugh. "I'm sure you'll see me in, like, five minutes. I plan on going in full throttle, no stopping me now." He squeezed her hand gently and got back up, returning to the billboard.

"So. We signed up. Now what? Where's the fancy white lights to beam us out of here already?" He was getting antsy, it was clear in the way his words came faster and he couldn't stand still. He didn't want this to be another trick. He wanted his second chance. He wanted to try. If he failed, then so be it - but if this was some kind of sick joke, set to lure them in to a false sense of security without actually bringing them back to life..

He shifted from one foot to another anxiously. "Maybe enough people have to sign up before we can go. OI. DEAD PEOPLE. SIGN THE ******** UP ALREADY."

Zeta Eight might have rolled her eyes as Alpha Seven had plucked her and Zeta Three up from where they had been standing by the board, his usual enthusiasm returning with the prospect of life. Part of her might have been cursing the note which had undone all her work in having him accept the fate that would likely befall them again, but even she would admit she preferred his this way, even if she had rolled her eyes. Then again, maybe she hadn't. It was hard to tell behind the gas mask. Still, it seemed he wasn't the only one who was feeling like his old self -- straightening up as he'd let them both go, she stood straight and poised, glancing at Zeta Three with a knowing, possibly slightly amused look. She had heard what he'd said, don't think she'd missed it in the excitement. It seemed the triad all felt a little better after signing up with an extra chance at life.

But it also seemed like that enthusiasm wasn't shared by all.

Taking a step back to allow Alphas Two, Seven and Nine some privacy, she moved forward only after they were done, nodding slowly to Alpha Two. She didn't say anything, although all things considered she probably should have, instead merely lifting a hand to rest on her shoulder in a subtle, detached reassurance reserved only for the members of Phoenix. To Alpha Nine, she gave a slightly more curt nod -- like Alpha Seven had said, they would be taking the place by storm.

Something told him this was how he’d act at a real bar.

He looked at everyone but saw no one. Jokes he’d never share in. Women he’d never talk to. Karaoke singers he wanted to leap across the room and stab in the face.

At real bars, people were obnoxious because they were drunk. What was these peoples’ excuse?

Maybe he was just bitter. Being dead had a tendency to sour one’s disposition. Maybe he should throw caution to the wind – sing a song, hug somebody, make two close friends and toe the line between endearing and creepy. After all, he wouldn’t have to look at himself in the mirror in the morning. But just because he could do something didn’t necessarily mean he should. He still had a tremendous capacity for self-loathing, and the idea of him singing “Baby Got Back” made his skin crawl.

He probably didn’t even remember all the words.

He pushed himself off his stool. Even if he could drink, Zeta Eleven didn’t think he needed anything to brace himself for the darkness. He had spent the better part of his time in the increasingly crowded lounge forcing himself to stare into the gaping void, trying to turn that unsettled sensation into some sort of acceptance. Besides, alcohol would probably burn his throat. Spending his last moments of existence spitting up whiskey seemed undignified. Hardly stoic.

As commotion surrounded the appearance of a sign-up sheet, Eleven quietly slipped past the crowd. He offered them no lingering looks. Maybe in another life, he could have had a friend among them, but a part of him seriously doubted that. There was no resentment, merely a brush of shoulders as he walked by.

He stood in the doorway. There was no force pulling him. Only stillness, as if the nothingness wanted to make abundantly clear that this was his choice. It just didn’t have to be so damn smug about it.

Any last words?

Anyone he wanted to say goodbye to?

No? Well then.

[Exeunt. It sure is dark in here.]

]Delta 6 entering from Abandoned Town Chasm Crossing Game]

She heard the voices before she opened her eyes. There was a thread of thought in her mind that she couldn't quite grasp, and she wondered for a moment if it was something important- should she sit up and see what was going on?-- but for now she was tired, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. She lay there for a while, breathing in, breathing out... slowly the voices came into focus. Something about dancing, and second tries, and death. The word fell like a stone into her consciousness- and suddenly she remembered the sensation of falling, and her own choked scream as a familiar face receded smaller and smaller into the distance.

Her eyes opened and she sat up slowly, not quite able to place who she was or who that face had belonged to. His features were clear in her memory-- she closed her eyes, and she could envision every slope, every angle of his face and his hair and his warm shoulders. It was as if they'd known each other forever, but the image in her memory- his drawn brows, growing farther and farther away as wind rushed past her ears, his horrified eyes held the shy nuance of a distanced acquaintance, someone she had just met. She put the thought in the back of her mind and took her first look around the room she had woken up in. A lounge. On one end of the room a corkboard rested on the wall, with a note pinned to it by a dagger. A cocktail bar lined the other side of the room. A gaping door floated in the midst. Around her, figures dressed in armor and masks of varying colors stood or sat in couches.

The sight of the armored figures brought her back-- on each helmet, there was a letter and a number. She remembered with a jolt that her own was Delta 6. She had woken up on a foggy island, and she and dozens of others had been pitted against each other for pendants. And she had failed. So this was what death looked like? Or had the powers that manipulated them on the island brought them here after tricking them into believing they had died?

A few of the people in the lounge seemed to be convening at the corkboard, and she stood and walked towards it.

[Z1 entering from Abandoned Town Game]

She'd been falling. She'd been falling forever it seemed, stuck in some limbo between her back hitting the ground and killing her, and the ever fading light. "Just take me now.... please..." she murmured, closing her eyes for the inevitable crunch against a ground, or a spike splitting her in two. She couldn't remember how she'd ended up falling into the darkness... but that was of little importance now.

So many things she wished to do... so many things. But... nothing now. Perhaps that was sweeter than letting her teammates know how weak she was. How weak she'd always been.

Murmured voices fluttered by her ears as she fell.

She'd never been strong, not when she woke up, not when she fought the horse, not when she'd run and followed Bones. Follower. That's all she was. Not enough confidence and too much fear made her simply follow the pack, and work for the pack.

The voices grew louder.

When would she stop falling? She was already drowned in her own fear, just let her go! Just kill her already! Just end it!

The voices jolted her awake.

Eyes snapped open behind her mask and she gazed at the ceiling. The ceiling.. of what? She sat up, turning her head around. So many uniforms.... in all manor of colors. She saw the orange of the Zetas.

Zeta.

ZOne.

It was a bar of somesort, with a bunch of people crowded around a board. Murmurs of a second chance floated into her ears, but all she wanted to do was go back to sleep, and wake up from this nightmare.

Maybe if she killed herself...

Or maybe this had all been a dream to begin with, and perhaps she was still dreaming.

Perhaps... she was already dead.

She gave a small smile behind her mask and glanced at the door to nothingness. A permanent sleep... she could like that. ZOne let out a breath of air and turned her eyes from it.

Even that scared her. Heh... maybe for her weakness, this... limbo was her sentence. At least it wasn't just falling. She stood up and walked to the bar, taking a stool on the very end, and just watched the people around her.