tristan st. croix. twenty-eight. millionaire. bored. that's about all you need to know.
"pawns are the soul of this game, they alone form the attack and defense."
Mister Higgins, Miss Bennett, the two of you will be escorted from your cells later this evening. Today's objective is very simple -- don't scream.
The both of you will be stripped down to your undergarments and struck with leather whips. After every five lashes, you will be doused with a bucket of lemon juice, freshly squeezed by our lovely servants down in the kitchens. The first of you to scream -- or to release any equivalent sound -- will lose, and the event will be over.
Remember, pawns, you aren't just playing for food and immunity from the arena, you're playing to spend the night with you're significant other. Also, keep in mind what happened when Miss Enns intentionally threw her event. It doesn't work, and we will know if anyone tries to lose on purpose.
Another detail to note is that this game is for match point. The winning team will receive not only the regular victory meal, but a special prize from my sister and myself, so try extra hard today, pawns.
Now that you've all settled into your new cells, I'd like to announce the details of the next event -- the first in our third round.
Later on today, Miss Hayes and Miss Enns will be escorted into the arena and placed inside two large, transparent chambers. Upon our signal, the oxygen will slowly be leeched from the chambers. The first of you to lose consciousness will also lose the event.
A brief reminder of the new prizes -- the winning team will still receive a good mean tomorrow evening, while the losing team will eat nothing at all. The winning pawn earns a night spent with her significant other, while the losing pawn remains in the arena for the following twenty-four hours.
Another detail to observe is that the new cellmate of the winning pawn will also spend the the night in the arena to make room for the winner's significant other. Fair trade, wouldn't you say?Â
You'll find that amidst your sleeping last night, you were moved from your cells and placed into new ones. You know well enough that we are very capable of being stealthy when needed. This was one of those instances, so please don't badger us with your inquiries.
Round three of the events is upon us, and as we did before round two, we decided to... stir things up a bit. You'll find you have a new cellmate, and we sincerely apologize for dividing you from your significant others. Â You will have chances to see them, however, depending on how well you do in your respective events. In this round, a victory will procure you not only a decent meal for yourself and your team, but it will also promise you an evening with your partner. We expect this will be sufficient incentive for you all to do your best in your performances.
You'll be hearing from us again soon. Until then, do enjoy your new company.
The arena has been particularly quiet these last few days...
I guess that means it's time for the next event, coincidentally the last event of this round. I'm sure you all know who is left...
Mister Grant, you will be joining our new pawn, Miss Snow, in the arena. Each of you will be strapped down to individual tables by leather cuffs at your wrists, ankles, and necks. Above your head will be situation a small hose, which runs to a large tank of cold water. These hoses will be carefully positioned over your foreheads, and are fitted with nozzles that will systemically drip a single drop of water every three seconds. Most of you may know this as Chinese Water Torture.
The first pawn to beg out will lose the event, and will enjoy an overnight stay alone in the arena.Â
Good luck, mes piones, especially to you, Miss Snow.
What a beautiful Saturday... and what a perfect day for our next event. Only two left in this round...
Later this afternoon, Mister Fallon and Miss Enns will be escorted from their cells and secured to two separate cots in the arena. My sister will be enjoying the company of Noah, while I have my fun with River. Today's event is one of the racing kind -- the first of you to reach an orgasm wins. The loser will remain behind in the arena until tomorrow evening. Simple, right?
Is everyone ready for the next event? I suggest you all wrap up in your blankets today. It's going to get a little chilly down there...
Mister Grant, Miss Hayes, both of you will be escorted from your cells later this afternoon to participate. You will shed your clothes and step up onto your individual pedestals. Each pedestal is installed with a tall metal pole, to which your hands will be bound behind your back. The temperature in the arena is going to drop, we have machines that will simulate poor weather conditions -- winds, rain, hail, etc. The first of you to lose consciousness will lose, and will remain locked in the arena over night. The winner will return to his or her cell, and the temperature in the cells will be temporarily raised for the night.
Spring cookout day in the NW cafeteria. You’ve got your burgers, your hotdogs, your grilled chickens. French fries, potato salad, fresh fruit. And, for dessert, ice cream in every flavor.Â
Just kidding. It’s rice. Again. But if you pretend it’s something else it kind of goes down easier. Sort of. Maybe.
Very Very Mad World || Grayson, Avery, Tristan, Angelique
TAGGING: Grayson, Avery, Tristan, and Angelique
SETTING: The arena
TIMEFRAME: Sunday evening, the 21st
NOTES: round two, event five, mindfuckery
Tristan remained quiet whilst his men secured today's pawns to their chairs, backs to one another, wrists tied to the arms. He'd already put a lot of thought into the things he would say, what ammunition he would use against the pretty blonde in order to break her. Perhaps he would start with words of Reid, but he knew that wouldn't be enough. Tristan would dig deep, reach in far to the depths of her heart and pull out the bitterest of fractures. It would be a challenge, certainly, and he knew that had this been any other black pawn, it would have been easier. But Tristan couldn't deny that he did enjoy a challenge. Blue eyes glanced up to find his sister's gaze, a silent communication passing between them before they both stepped forward, approaching their respective targets. "Evening, Miss Bennett," Tristan spoke softly, squatting easily in front of the young woman so that he looked up at her. It was a submissive position, giving her the high ground, but Tristan didn't mind. "I hope those ropes aren't too tight for you."
Avery took a deep breath and clenched and unclenched her hands against her bonds. Her face was relatively calm, but inside she was starting to feel like a wreck. Originally, she had relaxed because no torture devices were mentioned, but then the options started kicking in. No physical torture, but emotional one. Her walls were impenetrable, but they had suffered significant blows in the last weeks, so she didn't know how long they would last. As soon as Tristan stepped in front of her, she put on her Ice Queen mask. She had this. This was her specialty. "They're perfect, just the way I was wishing they would be." She humored him, her voice laced with venom.
Angelique stood off to the side as she watched the two pawns brought into the center of the arena, two chairs secured in the center. She had been pleased that Grayson was chosen for this event, for any of the others would have been far too boring. No, Grayson already had several fractures in his mind, and it wouldn't be difficult to chip away at them, to see how well his walls stood up against her barrage. She had thought long and hard over what information would be needed to accomplish today's task. Stepping forward as the pawns were secured, she stood in front of the young man, towering over him with a sickly sweet smile. "Good evening, Grayson. Are you looking forward to tonight's event? I hope your banshee isn't going to mind when you don't return tonight," she chuckled, patting him on the cheek.
Grayson was not looking forward to the event. He would take the physical pain over this. His mind was already fragile and the past week had been hard on him. He was feeling the strain, but he had promised Sawyer. He would do everything he could to win this. He adjusted his robe before sitting down. He looked up at Ang and smiled back at her. "Honestly, not really. Good luck to you, ma'am." He let the smile linger for a few more seconds until it dropped off. He didn't know what she had in store for him, but the fire behind her eyes didn't look good. He sighed and closed his eyes for a second exhaling slowly.
Tristan smirked softly, nodded his head as he reached out to gently caress her clenched hands. "You know, Avery, I'm a little concerned," he started, thumb brushing over the ropes binding her before his hands dropped again. His dark blue were staring softly up into her stunning hazels, and he sighed. "We can see that Reid is deliberately dehydrating himself." Only the first topic, but a good start, even though Tristan knew that there would be harder subjects he'd need to touch upon. "We wouldn't let him kill himself, of course, but... Certainly says a lot about where his head is at, doesn't it?" Tristan asked, brows furrowing slightly. "Or rather... his heart. I guess we shouldn't be too surprised that he would so willingly leave you behind..."
Avery tried to disguise her flinching as Tristan's hands came in contact with hers. As long as he didn't invade her personal space, everything would be fine. It had to be. Her sharp tongue was already aching to spit some sarcasm at the elegant captor, but she had to get a grip on herself. She raised her eyebrow instead, flashing her infamous smirk. And suddenly, there he was. Throwing in her face the things that had crossed her mind a few hours prior. It hurt. Because the Reid she knew wouldn't leave her behind. He memorized books for her, he cared. She gave him a nonchalant shrug and tried to ignore the tiny pangs of pain in her heart.
Angelique could hear Tristan getting started and she smirked to herself. Avery liked to think that she was so strong, an independent woman who didn't need a man like Reid to take care of her, but she had seen the girl with her guard down, when the two of them had spent such a wonderful night together. But it wouldn't do to dwell on Avery, considering she had her very own plaything waiting for her. "Grayson, Grayson..." she smiled, deliberately stopping after two. "You mentioned that you thought your parents would be proud of you today. And yet, I find it curious that they haven't put that much effort into finding you. Perhaps they thought this was the perfect way to get rid of an imperfect son."
Grayson already felt the twist in his gut. She had said his name nice. He could feel the sweat begin to form at the edge of his hairline. His mind began to go crazy. Images of his parents followed closely by Sawyer then a knife in his hand standing over them. He closed his eyes for a second, it was all he needed. He opened his eyes and met Angelique's eyes. He wouldn't break with her first words, no matter how hard those words hit. He knew he was imperfect and he preferred they weren't looking for him. It would be better this way. They wouldn't be disappointed in him. He gave her a small smile before sliding his face back into a neutral position.
Tristan once again smiled, as if he wasn't kneeling there, purposefully tormenting the girl before him. She had fallen silent now, as it became clear the game had officially begun. First one to make a sound lost, and Avery knew that. "No defenses this time?" he questioned with a quirk of his brow. "No arguments that it was your idea anyway? That the two of you don't need each other? No offense, ma cherie, but I can't imagine you lasting very long here if we were to let Mister Macarthur die." Another heavy breath escaped from Tristan's lungs and the man looked down, fiddling with the ring on his middle finger. "Upon starting the game, we wondered if Reid's father would become an issue. He is a powerful man, as you know, but we're pleasantly surprised to learn that he hasn't even made a single phone call to the states to inquire about his missing son. Pity." The sympathy in Tristan's voice was completely false and he found Avery's gaze once more. "Have you wondered of your own guardians yet, Miss Bennett? Dear old grandma and grandpa?"
Avery could feel her hands starting to get clammy, her fingers twitching with pent up anxiety. She was starting to feel that unbearable "caged lion" sensation; heart beating faster and faster, and her breathing picking up. She tried using her ignoring tactics. The alphabet with books, the alphabet with author names, but Tristan's voice sliced through them like a butcher's knife through butter. Of course she wouldn't last long. They would finish her off just like they did with Brynn after Reina got shattered. They couldn't have incomplete pairs of pawns. That was the only reason she wouldn't last... The only one. She had lived without Reid for years... She could keep going. Yes, she could. Avery bit the inside of her cheek as soon as he started talking. She knew where he was heading. She could hear it in his disgustingly silky voice. It was a matter of time, really. Nobody knew about her past. And Avery had made amends with the fact that nobody would be looking for her. And she didn't care... It didn't hurt... Until someone said it to your face. How he knew all of these things was even more unnerving, and the anxiety grew in Avery's gut. He was exposing her. That was one of the things she couldn't handle. Everybody was listening. He had to stop. But there was no way he could know more things about her. Still, Avery was starting to feel doomed.
Angelique cocked her head, almost waiting for a response, but she should have known that she wouldn't get one. That would have been disappointing to see him break so easily. Of course, this was only the beginning. She had an entire arsenal of things at her disposal. What Grayson lacked in deep, dark secrets, he made up for with the way his mind worked. Angelique could see the cogs turning in his head, battling back the anxiety. She wished she could see the images in his head, the violence flashing through his mind. "Tell me, how often do you see yourself hurting your parents? How often do you see yourself hurting Sawyer?" The girl's name fell smoothly off her tongue and she inched close, practically perching herself on his lap. Caressing his face softly, she gave him a predatory grin. "I suppose I don't blame you. If I was in a relationship with her, I would want to see my hands around that pretty little neck of hers, slowly squeezing, tighter and tighter... What a lovely shade of purple she would turn. That's her favorite color, right? Purple? How poetic."
Grayson hated being so transparent. He hated that she could so easily slip through the cracks of his mind and get inside. The twisting in his gut increased. The panic was rising in his throat and he knew no amount of medication could help him now. He would break. Maybe not this second, but it was quickly approaching. He had wished he hadn't worn the robe. It was too warm, suffocating. He felt like a noose was slipped around his neck and he was the only one pulling it tighter. Not Angelique. He couldn't blame her, couldn't get mad. It was his own mind that was fractured. It was his own mind that betrayed him. He had been strong for so long, maybe he could rest now. He could utter a syllable and it would all be over. But not yet. Not words about Sawyer. She would be upset with him if that was what broke him.
Tristan could see the pain rippling transparent behind hazel eye and he knew that this would be the touchier subject. "Would it surprise you to hear that they haven't contributed to the search, Avery?" he questioned softly, still turning the ring that rested on the middle finger of his left hand. It was an idle thing to do, something he barely even registered on a conscious level. All of his thoughts were focused on this girl before him. On breaking her without even lifting a finger. "They got the call just over two weeks ago that you'd been officially declared missing, and yet, your grandmother still has dinner on the table every evening at five. As if nothing's changed." Tristan's eyes narrowed as he watched her, waiting for the crack to expand. "I wonder if they'd bother to look up from their daily routine if they found out about your mother," he spoke, his voice dropping, edged with a tone that even he couldn't identify. "Have you ever seen photos of what cocaine does to a person, Avery?" he asked, tilting his head slightly with curiosity. "Even the most talented of morticians couldn't make her look good for the funeral... Not that anyone would care to see her."
Avery wasn't surprised at all. To her grandparents, she was no different to a piece of fancy french furniture, fake quality, of course. She had never been relevant in any way to them. They probably didn't even love her, and she had learn to cope with that. She was a little kid with knobby knees and she already knew that. She hadn't contacted them in two years and neither had they, why would things change? But the Chessmaster's next words hit her harder. They had been notified of her disappearance and nothing had changed. Were they really that heartless? Avery could picture that scene in her mind. The fastidiously tidy dining room, that would earn you an old-fashioned belting if you dared to mess with its perfectly polished silverware. Or... arriving late for one of your daily meals, 5:03 at the latest. The blonde's ming started wandering... If she was declared dead... Would they do anything differently? Would they skip dessert to plan her funeral? Avery was only enhancing her pain, yet she couldn't help it. She had tried so hard to detach herself from that dreary past, that the new information was drawing her in. Like bait to a deadly end. She couldn't stop it, she could stop him. And she should've, but in the next minute, it was too late. Avery's watery eyes shot back into Tristan's, and somehow, she knew what he was going to say, even before his poisonous words tumbled from his lips. Avery's heart was beating so fast, it felt like a constant hum. Cracking sounds were sounding in her ears, and she couldn't place the noise. The noise of her world crumbling down in an instant. The pain in her chest and in her frozen heart starting growing, with earthquake-like force. First a mild shivering, that grew and grew until it was the only thing that you could feel. The only thing that mattered. He couldn't be right. She couldn't be dead. Not Avery's mom... Not the only person that had loved her in the only way you were supposed to love a person. She had promised... They would see each other again... Avery would graduate and she would be ready to look for her... The blonde started shaking her head in denial, tears tumbling down her cheeks and burning her skin as they fell. Her chest felt as if it would crack with the silent sobs that shook her. Even if she wanted, Avery wouldn't have been able to make a sound, because the pain was asphyxiating her vocal chords and every inch of her body.
Angelique glanced at Avery, annoyed at how easily she seemed to be breaking under Tristan's calm words about her addict mother. She had hoped that she would be stronger than that, but obviously that wasn't the case. Turning her focus back onto Grayson, she could see the little twitch, the telltale sign that her words were seeping into his mind, poisoning his thoughts. However, she hadn't expected Avery Creeping forward, she trailed slender fingers across his collarbone. "Such a strong, strong mind you have," she cooed, sarcasm carefully tucked into the corners of her voice. She ran her fingers through his hair, and smiled down at him, as she would smile down at a lover. "So strong that I bet if you went back to Sawyer's arms now, she would be perfectly safe with you. Of course she would. You're so, so strong after all. You wouldn't hurt her like your mind tells you to. You wouldn't lash out and hit her, watch the blood spill from her nose and mouth with a morbid fascination, hit her again, just to see more. Maybe you would make love to her, passionate and strong. Hold her down by her arms so hard that they leave bruises, thrust into her until she bleeds, until she is begging you to stop, with tears running down her face. Doesn't that sound beautiful?"
Grayson didn't want to do this anymore. It wasn't okay. The words being said to Avery were hurting him. But then Angelique was running her hands through his hair and talking about hurting Sawyer, raping her. He could keep his mouth shut. He could let it keep going, but now he didn't trust himself. If he beat Avery, he would go back into that cell and maybe hurt Sawyer. He could leave her bleeding on their mattress and then bash his head against the wall until he stopped feeling. That would be nice. Not to feel. To have a break from reality and let the twins win. He would be okay with that. He would be blissfully unaware, but who would pay for that. The images flashed in his mind once more mocking him as if he were a child. And he was. Grayson was forever stuck as a little boy with a towel tied around his neck watching men die in front of him. He wasn't Superman then and he most certainly wasn't Superman now. He never had been. The tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He felt weak, he was weak. It didn't matter what he did, it would come back to this. He let his chin hit his chest. He rested for a second before lifting his head again. "No ma'am. It doesn't."
Tristan looked up when he heard a voice that definitely didn't belong to his sister. A familiar voice. A voice he'd come to respect. Grayson had given and the man sighed, finding Angelique's gaze and offering her a small nod of congratulations. She had won, but it had certainly been close. Avery's tears were beautiful, well worth it, and Tristan reached up to gently swipe his thumb over her cheek. "The game is over, Miss Bennett," he informed her with a gentle voice, reaching out to untie her wrists himself, instead of waiting for his servants to do it. "You played well, your strength is admirable." Honest compliments, and at last, Tristan stood, though he bent low to whisper into her ear, "Your mother is just fine." The truth this time, as killing off her mother had only been a falsified tool for destruction. "She's living in Cleveland, cleaning up. An independent woman." Tristan's smile was kind now as he found Avery's glistening eyes. "The fruit doesn't fall far from the tree, m'amour. You may return to your cell." And with that, the man stepped aside to wait for his sister.
Avery barely registered Grayson's voice in her head. She had won her second event, but that didn't matter. Nothing did, except for the crippling agony bubbling in her chest, threatening to rip her apart. The razor saddle sounded like a blessing. She felt frozen to her very core, and didn't even acknowledge Tristan's gentle touch on her skin. Avery was almost catatonic, her body taking the toll of her wrecked mind as she started to shiver. Tristan's voice was almost comforting, nurturing, but Avery couldn't focus. Her brain kept whirring with voices and memories of better days, when innocence worked as a shield from scarring pain. She was starting to hyperventilate, when the puppet-master yanked on her strings again. Tristan's words sunk slowly into her, the rest of the world in slow motion as she registered the new information. Behind the still flowing curtain of tears, she managed to catch a glimpse of sincerity in The Chessmaster's eyes. He wasn't lying now, like he ad before. A loud and broken sob escaped from the blonde's lips. A sob coated with relief, shame, self-pity, embarrassment, anger, hope and many other feelings she couldn't begin to sort out. "You're wrong.", she managed to choke out after his last sentence, the embers of her past fierceness igniting them again. No matter how relieved she was or the things she had felt when she was fed with that lie, she still had a purpose. She was not turning out like her mother.
Angelique smiled triumphantly when Grayson lifted his head. She could see the decision in his eyes even before he opened his mouth, and his voice, rough as it was, sounded wonderful to her ears. Perhaps it was a dirty trick, playing on the boy's weaknesses like that, but it had won her her point. Looking over at Tristan, she smiled at him, returning her own nod as she got off of his lap. Stroking his hair again, she looked at him so their eyes met. "A good round, Grayson. I'm quite sorry it had to be this way." Stepping back, she joined Tristan at his side as they watched their guards untie both pawns, and two of them grab ahold of tonight's victor. "You know the drill, mon amour. Twenty-four hours and you will be with your darling Sawyer again."
Grayson nodded slowly at Angelique. He wasn't upset with her. It was easier not to be. Inward was better. It was his fractured mind. She hadn't said anything that wasn't true. There had been times he had woken up with Sawyer in his arms and bloody thoughts. He would slip out of bed and go for a walk. It calmed him down. He couldn't be near Sawyer like this. Not in this state. He could be alone. He could cave into himself and hope no one had a fucking rope because he would make it into a noose. He was sinking so low being alone would be best. He sunk to his knees in front of the chair. He didn't look back at Sawyer before the cells closed. He didn't deserve that peace of mind. No, tonight the real challenge would be his own demons. Tonight, Grayson would destroy himself and he hoped pieces of his would remain to be returned to his cell.
Miss Bennett, Mister Kent, you will both be escorted from your cells in a short time. You will sit in separate chairs in the arena, facing away from one another. Your wrists will be bound, but that is all. Angelique and I are going to... talk to you, for all intents and purposes. Angelique will be talking to Grayson, while I converse with Avery. The rules of the game are simple -- the first of you to make a sound loses. The winning pawn will return to his or her cell, while the losing pawn will remain locked in the arena overnight, bound to his or her chair.
We have an exciting announcement for you all today.
We'd like everyone to give a warm welcome to our two newest pawns, Kaia Bell and Aria Snow. They will be taking up residency in Brynn and Reina's cell. We encourage you to engage them in conversation, perhaps take some of the work off our shoulders and tell them how the chess game works. Black team, you are inheriting Miss Bell. My team, we are inheriting Miss Snow.
