#Phillip Yu x reader

[limolib]

Do not resuscitate

An 8th show fic.

𓊔𓊔𓊔𓊔𓊔𓊔𓊔

"All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others"

A/N: No need for introductions 😀 This show has like taken over my life, I couldn't rest until I got this out. I'm fr fr going insane. I hope y’all enjoy this 🫶🏻.

Warning: Any that apply to the actual show. No use of Y/N or descriptions of race (pls let me know if any slip by me). Reader is an EMT. Suicide mention. Female reader.

Summary: You're on the verge of giving up when a series of bank transfers and an offer of more has you accepting a shady offer. You couldn’t have guessed it would result in you being thrust into a lawless game show with 7 other participants, pushing humans back to their utmost primal instincts. In a den of wolves, could you build trust and friendship with a certain player? Or will your differences keep you apart?

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅::]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

01/ Flatline

02/ Up & Down

03/ Chess not checkers

[eddycurrents]

For the week of 11 September 2017

Just one favourite this week: Ninjak #0 by Matt Kindt and Francis Portela (with MJ Kim, Khari Evans, Roberto de la Torre, Sija Hong, and Juan José Ryp). Published by Valiant.

Ninjak #0 provides a capstone to Matt Kindt’s run with the character, giving both an encapsulation of Ninjak’s history to date and one final mission to propel the series further into a more in-depth exploration into the Ninja Programme and legacy, before handing the character off to Christos Gage and Tomás Giorello for their new Ninja-K series.

I very much like how Kindt plays with time in this story. After firing an arrow on the first page in the present, the book’s pages are bisected by that arrow’s path, with the top telling of the events immediately leading up to that first page--illustrated by Francis Portela--and the bottom offering snippet’s of Ninjak’s history--illustrated by MJ Kim, Khari Evans, Roberto de la Torre, Sija Hong, and Juan José Ryp. (You can see an example above). It’s an interesting and effective way of delivering a lot of simultaneous information and narrative at once and I was particularly impressed by everyone involved.

As time on the top converges with the arrow, the structure reverts to a standard one timeframe narrative as it leads into a teaser for the new Ninja-K series from Gage and Giorello.

Like with the previous recent zero issue offerings for Bloodshot Reborn and Divinity, this serves as an excellent primer for people interested in the character and in jumping into the Valiant Universe.

Quick Bits:

All New Wolverine #24 wraps up the “Hive” arc guest-starring the Guardians of the Galaxy and Leonard Kirk’s tenure as artist on the series. This arc was fun, with Tom Taylor delivering some very nice and heartfelt interactions between Laura and Gabby, as well as continuing to present some strong characterization with Rocket and Groot.

| Published by Marvel

Amazing Spider-Man #32 is a single issue story of Norman Osborn trying to reclaim his Green Goblin persona. It’s an interesting look into Osborn’s drive and potential, with some absolutely beautiful artwork form Greg Smallwood & Jordie Bellaire.

| Published by Marvel

Birthright #26 provides a jumping on point as it begins a new story-arc. It’s fairly exposition heavy, but Joshua Williamson still makes it feel interesting, even to old readers since there’s a bit of a shift since the last issue. As always Andrei Bressan’s art is beautiful.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Deadpool #36 is a transitional issue from Deadpool working for “Stevil” Hydra Cap and the forthcoming Despicable Deadpool, closing out some old plot threads and sending off the remaining supporting characters, while setting up Wade’s new status quo of reluctantly working for Stryfe. As usual Gerry Duggan mixes in humour while ultimately making Deadpool a tragic figure. 

| Published by Marvel 

Doctor Strange & The Sorcerers Supreme #12 is a fitting send-off to a series that still feels gone to soon. From Javier Rodriguez to this issue’s Nathan Stockman, the series has been great artistically, and this issue’s sideways widescreen format is well appreciated. Robbie Thompson also brings it back full circle to how this excursion started in last year’s Doctor Strange Annual by closing on the “Not So” Ancient One’s journey.

| Published by Marvel

Grass Kings #7 is still an inscrutable beauty. Part crime drama, part mystery, part family drama, part treatise on loyalty and community in an extremely independent society, Matt Kindt and Tyler Jenkins have something special here. This issue adds another layer to the problems that they’ve been having with Cargill, while more explicitly breaking open the mystery of a potential serial killer and giving us some more details on what happened in Bruce’s past that led him to coming home to the Grass Kingdom.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Gwenpool, The Unbelievable #20 is going to mess with your head. In a good way.

| Published by Marvel

Hulk #10 brings Mariko Tamaki’s second story-arc to a conclusion. I can’t say I enjoyed it as much as I did the first, but there have still been some entertaining moments. The character interaction between Jen and Patsy being particularly strong. 

Also, like the previous issue, the art shift part way through detracts. Both artists, Julian Lopez and Francesco Gaston, are good, but their styles kind of clash. Lopez uses a thick line and somewhat realistic style similar to Jesus Saiz, whereas Gaston has a thinner line and a bit more angular, stylized character composition--much like Georges Duarte, who started this arc. 

| Published by Marvel

Kill or Be Killed #12 pushes Dylan further into darkness, even without his little demon friends whispering not-so-sweet nothings into his ears. As always, Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips are creating a compelling, nuanced story month in and month out. There’s also some good development in Dylan and Kira’s relationship, but, as per the original dissolution, I’m expecting the other shoe to drop sometime soon. 

| Published by Image

Mech Cadet Yu #2 brings Yu and his adopted Robo back to the Sky Academy, where he’s officially accepted as one of the cadets. The story beats are pretty standard coming of age, living through adversity by being a fish out of water, ruffling the feathers of the establishment-type thing, but Greg Pak never allows it to feel old. Yu and his Robo are just too likeable characters to not enjoy seeing their advancement and acceptance. It also helps that Takeshi Miyazawa’s artwork is wonderful. 

Despite not being published under one of their more all-ages imprints like Boom! Box or kaboom!, this series remains something that I think that kids would get a lot of enjoyment out of as well.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Old Man Logan #28 is a work of art. I don’t know who made a pact with the devil in order to consistently get this level of artwork out of Mike Deodato Jr., but whatever they did since at least the Jeff Lemire Thanos series, Deodato has been producing some of the most beautiful, thoughtful, and compelling work of his career. He’s been a great artist for more than twenty-five years in the industry, but his work lately has been absolutely next level. His shading, page layouts, character designs & staging, and panel transitions are practically a masterclass on the art form.

| Published by Marvel

Pestilence #4 unveils some secrets as we head towards the conclusion. This has been a fairly bloody and brutal tale of knights vs. zombies from Frank Tieri and Oleg Okenev and it’s not letting up. It delivers a nice satisfying crunch.

| Published by Aftershock

Redlands #2 jumps the series ahead to modern day, fleshing out the sisters’ characters and the world that they live in, having pretty much taken over Redlands, Florida following the bloodbath back in ‘77. We’re still left a lot of details out, but we’re given a better look at some of the things going on, as a game of murderous cat and mouse between the sisters and an unknown potential blackmailer unfolds. Jordie Bellaire and Vanessa Del Rey are creating something interesting here and I’m definitely hooked to see what happens next.

| Published by Image

Retcon #1 is...something, I’m not really sure what. Interesting, though, certainly, and something I’ll continue to read for a bit. Ostensibly this is about a team of supernatural beings working for the government, but the interview in the back and the title suggest something else. If anything, the artwork from Toby Cypress is worth the price of admission alone. Still not sure what to think of the story.

| Published by Image

Sacred Creatures #3 again challenges me to decide whether or not I like Pablo Raimondi’s mix of traditional comics art with photography. I’m leaning towards yes.

| Published by Image

Secret Warriors #6 kicks off a two-part arc with the members of the Warriors back on their own. The bulk of the issue is devoted to Daisy tracking down who murdered Coulson and it leads to some humorous exchanges. Who would have known that life model decoys are anatomically correct?

| Published by Marvel

Spy Seal #2 feels even more like a European funny animal book than the first issue. To me it feels like Rich Tommaso is doing a take on something like Tin Tin, but with an anthropomorphic seal, and it’s just wonderful.

| Published by Image

Transformers: Lost Light #9 gives a kind of closure, or at least a transition, to the Natuica/Velocity/Skids character and story arcs. It’s kind of bittersweet when you consider the implications and I expect that James Roberts will undoubtedly revisit this somewhere in the future. Also, the reveal of who the “Grand Architect” is at the end of this issue is pretty epic.

| Published by IDW

Uncanny Avengers #27 is a pretty straight-forward conclusion to the team’s confrontation with Graviton. It’s mostly action, but there are some character moments cementing that this team can still work together fairly effectively. The artwork from Sean Izaakse again is very nice.

| Published by Marvel

Other Highlights: Babyteeth #4, Black Science #31, Clue #4, Curse Words #8, The Damned: Ill-Gotten #4, Defenders #5, Dread Gods #2, First Strike #3, Genius: Cartel #2, Ghost Station Zero #2, Harrow County #25, Hellboy & BPRD - 1955: Occult Intelligence #1, InSEXts #13, Jane, Lumberjanes #42, Mage: The Hero Denied #2, The Realm #1, Riverdale #6, Rocket #5, Rose #6, Runaways #1, The Shadow #2, Shadows on the Grave #8, Slam!: Next Jam #1, The Sovereigns #5, The Spirit: The Corpse Makers #4, Star Wars #36, Star Wars: Doctor Aphra #12, TMNT Universe #14, The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl #24, Venomverse #2, War for the Planet of the Apes #3, Weapon X #8, Winnebago Graveyard #4, X-Men Blue #11

Recommended Collections: Britannia - Vol. 2: We Who Are About to Die, Elektra: Always Bet on Red, Kingpin: Born Against, Saucer Country, TMNT - Vol. 17: Desperate Measures

d. emerson eddy believes that uptown funk is going to give it to you. Don’t believe him? Just watch.

[gokinjeespot]

Monday, September 18, 2017

 I have recurring back pain that's a pain in the back and it hit so hard yesterday I could barely walk. It's better today but I sure am glad that I don't have to work so that I can recover some more. I want to make sure that I'm well enough to attend the book launch of "The Wind In His Heart" by Charles de Lint tomorrow. Here's a link: https://www.facebook.com/events/1663452530396893/?acontext=%7B%22ref%22%3A%2222%22%2C%22feed_story_type%22%3A%2222%22%2C%22action_history%22%3A%22null%22%7D&pnref=story

 Fishing season is winding down even though the weather has been sunny and warm recently here in Ottawa. David and I only caught 3 fish yesterday in the 3 hours we were out. My fishing buddies are like me and just appreciate being out on the water for some time away from the city. We don't need to catch fish to enjoy our time out there.

 Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps #28 - Robert Venditti (writer) Rafa Sandoval (pencils) Jordi Tarragona (inks) Tomeu Morey (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). A great art team can elevate an average book to an outstanding one. The artists they get make a huge difference to my enjoyment of this book.

 Ms. Marvel #22 - G. Willow Wilson (writer) Marco Failla (art) Ian Herring (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). I love this story about tolerance and equality. It affected Kamala deeply. It made her think about her city and her neighbours and that will colour her actions from now on.

 All-New Wolverine #24 - Tom Taylor (writer) Leonard Kirk (art) Michael Garland & Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Another infestation of Brood is wiped out and the galaxy is saved yet again. I liked the guest appearance of the Guardians of the Galaxy, especially Rocket Racoon. Looking forward to a new story starting next issue.

 Weapon X #8 - Greg Pak & Fred Van Lente (writers) Marc Borstel & Ibraim Roberson (art) Frank D'Armata (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The team continues to pursue Weapon H, AKA Hulkverine (I like that) and more is revealed about the big gray galoot's alter ego. I cheered when I saw the reinforcement that the good guys call in.

 Runaways #1 - Rainbow Rowell (writer) Kris Anka (art) Matthew Wilson (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The gang isn't all here as this team makes it back to the racks but that's okay because this first issue did a very good job of introducing Nico Minoru, the spell caster, and Chase Stein, the screw up gadget guy to readers old and new. Kris's art has gotten better since I first noticed his name in the credits of an X-Men book. This debut was good enough to make me stick around until my favourite Runaway shows up.

 Wonder Woman #30 - Shea Fontana (writer) David Messina (art) Romulo Fajardo Jr. (colours) Saida Temofonte (letters). Both the writing and art for this issue was very stiff. I feel like I've been beaten over the head with the not too subtle "women are strong" message. I'm hanging around until artist Emanuela Lupacchino starts to draw this book and I hope the writing improves then too.

 American Gods #7 - Neil Gaiman (writer) P. Craig Russell (script & layouts) Scott Hampton (art) Rick Parker (letters). I would still enjoy this, being a fan of Neil Gaiman and Scott Hampton, even without the benefit of having already read the novel but I wonder if other comic book fans would think this is way too weird. Shadow's story about his adventures with gods old and new isn't for everybody but if you stick with it I think you'll find the payoff to be worth your time.

 Generations: Captain Marvel & Captain Mar-Vell #1 - Margaret Stohl (writer) Brent Schoonover (art) Jordan Boyd (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). I felt like this was written by a tweener for tweeners. If this is an indication of what to expect in Carol's solo book (Mighty Captain Marvel) then it's much too unsophisticated for this old coot.

 Detective Comics #964 - James Tynion IV & Christopher Sebela (writers) Carmen Carnero (art) Ulises Arreola (colours) Sal Cipriano (letters). This is it. You all saw it coming. The cover even gives it away. Clayface has reformed, or so it seemed. This issue was so well done I wasn't even disappointed in the outcome. If that's not enough, the Anarky and Spoiler story continues with a solid mystery to keep me engrossed.

 Mech Cadet Yu #2 - Greg Pak (writer) Takeshi Miyazawa (art) Triona Farrell (colours) Simon Bowland (letters). The new cadets start basic training with their Mechs. I like how the robos and cadets are paired up like in Anne McCaffrey's Dragonriders of Pern series of fantasy novels. I also like the conflict between the lower class janitor's son Yu and the upper class general's daughter Park. I am drawn to good stories about underdogs.

 Star Wars #36 - Jason Aaron (writer) Salvador Larroca (art) Edgar Delgado (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Hooray, it's R2-D2 to the rescue. Poetic ain't I?

 Dark Nights Metal #2 - Scott Snyder (writer) Greg Capullo (pencils) Jonathan Glapion (inks) FCO Plascencia (colours). Whoever did the lettering did a great job. The gateway opens and evil arrives. Meet the Jaundiced League. Darkseid is a baby now? I have so many questions. This is one of those instances where I have enough of an interest in the big picture that I will accept stuff I don't know about the DC multiverse and keep on reading.

 Kill or be Killed #12 - Ed Brubaker (writer) Sean Phillips (art) Elizabeth Breitweiser (colours). I like how the character of Dylan has grown over the course of this series. He started out full of fear and uncertainty and now can control his fear and plan ahead to what he needs to do to stay alive. It makes him more relatable.

 Hulk #10 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Julian Lopez & Francesco Gaston (art) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). It's a fricking big monster fight issue. Jen subdues Oliver but she comes close to losing control of herself as the Hulk. I wonder if she shops at Target to save money on clothes. You'll notice a change in art styles about halfway through. I would be a very happy fan if Julian Lopez was the regular artist for this book even though I like Francesco Gaston's art just fine.

 Action Comics #987 - Dan Jurgens (writer) Viktor Bogdanovic (pencils) Jonathan Glapion, Jay Leisten & Viktor Bogdanovic (inks) Mike Spicer (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). "The Oz Effect" starts here. I'm glad that the villain's identity isn't being teased for a bunch of issues just to keep us reading. Who Oz is will shock fans and it will make it harder for Superman to fight him. I still think it's all a ruse so I'm going to keep reading to see if I'm right in the end.

 The Defenders #5 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) David Marquez (art) Justin Ponsor (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). They're going to get hate mail for this issue. When you get to the end you'll know why.

 Amazing Spider-Man #32 - Dan Slott (writer) Greg Smallwood (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Greg fixed Norman's face for this new Green Goblin origin story. I forgot that Norman can't change into the Green Goblin now. Something is going to trigger the transformation and I am waiting to see what that is.

[limolib]

02/Up & Down.

7th floor x female reader (the 8 show) Masterlist WC:7.0K, oops. specific chapter warnings:idk :-).

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅::]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

8th floor could not contain her smile, to her this was entertaining. The sight of her grin made you want to gag, reminds you of those pretentious chicks you’d avoid at university. The ones that would gasp when you tell them that no, you didn't have a holiday house in Italy unfortunately. You preferred to think of yourself as a girls’ girl, but sometimes social classes and stuck up ‘daddy’s money’ girls would make you lose your composure. It's not difficult to see she comes from money, if you were 8th floor you still would not spend much your first night. She, however, had decided to turn the space into her personal hotel and still have more than you’ll likely ever make here. It made your blood boil. You barely knew her but you'd already decided you really dislike her, this made you feel guilty. She didn’t do anything wrong per se but, her personality, her privilege. You needed some air. Out on the stairs, you dropped your head down in defeat.

I’m still making good money, basically work-free here. 2 nights ago I was ready to end it all, now there's actually a ray of hope. The grass is always greener on the other side. It’s ok. I’m ok. Deep breaths…

The time board, which you were sure read 30-ish hours a little bit ago now read a little under 50. If you had doubts before, you were certainly sure now. Was it fun to watch the sheer shock on our faces? Was it fun to watch 1st floor rethink his unlucky draw? Is that what you want, pain? You looked up at the ridiculous amount of cameras in every corner. Now more than ever, you wanted to hide in a little cocoon and not be perceived. But alas, the red lights remain blinking. 

For some reasons beyond your comprehension, they had decided to tour everyone's rooms.

7th’s was slightly less annoying than 8th’s, having noticeably less junk. It housed a…desk? Some notebooks and pens too. On the other side of the room was a mattress with a navy bed-set on the floor. This guy is definitely an engineering or finance bro.

6th floor had bought one of those beach fold-out beds, at least that’s what you think it is. That’s actually pretty smart. He also had some blankets and a pillow; the height of luxury, obviously.

You sheepishly let them into your room, 5th floor. It was the bare booty minimum. In fact, it only housed the bucket and bags you’d gotten a few hours ago. 

“How did you…sleep last night?” 2 teased. 

This, to you, meant that even the lowest floors had spent at least some of their money.

“I’m used to it,” you shot her a playful glance. 

4th and 3rd floors’ rooms just got progressively smaller in size, they each got themselves some form of bed and cover to spend the night. You had also noticed that as the floors went down, the view on the screen window changed, to a lower area. Both figuratively and literally. 

Then 2nd floor who had bought dumbbells!

“You didn't know how long you’d be here for and this is your first instinct?” you laughed

“You didn’t even buy a pillow!”

That broke the tension a bit between the group, as snickers and giggles erupted all throughout. 2nd couldn’t help but join in on the fun.

The mood was however immediately killed when 1st floor’s room was opened. You caught yourself practically holding back tears. It was even smaller than your actual apartment and the number on the board was pathetic, at least in comparison to everything else you’d seen. Worst of all- the ceiling was so low, 1st himself could not stand upright. You're pretty claustrophobic, this would make you lose your mind you think. No one was able to meet 1’s eyes, as if all your problems had been stupid in comparison to this. 

“It’s ok” he tried to break the awkward silence. “I wouldn’t have been able to climb all these stairs everyday anyway” 

No one believed him.

. . .  

Food delivery was successful, everyone settled on having lunch in1st’s room.  It was kind of cute actually. Conversation flowed so smoothly, the main topic was obviously the situation at hand here. Theories flew around about how they think time is earned, obviously some ridiculous things were said, but it was comforting to know that no one else had any freaking idea. 4 had then brought up the topic of who we think is behind this whole thing, that got everyone thinking. Obviously they had an unfathomable amount of money. Not only were they able to plan out and execute the physicals of a place like this, they also were able to program the money, the chute, the time, the different rooms. It’s clear that this place is meant to house you for a while. 3rd got up for a smoke and ended up joining 7 right outside the room. You could barely make out what they were discussing, it seemed important. They were both looking out towards the outside area. Your mind started to think about everyone here, and how they ended up in this situation. Had they been as desperate as you are? The higher floors seemed to be coming from money, had they been desperately clawing their way up the ladder too? Or are they here for another reason? Entertainment? You were almost sure you recognised 6th somewhere, on TV you think. And 8 clearly had no trouble holding her hand back from spending. 7 you couldn’t figure out, probably a corporate dude who works in one of those high office buildings you see in the skyline. 1, 2, 3 and 4 were likely more like you, right? What kind of circumstances have pulled 8 unrelated individuals from all walks of life here with one goal. You were so lost in your mind and the countless speculations that you didn’t notice your eyes being focused on 7’s face. He was still deep in conversation with 3 but he’d turned around to match your stare, only breaking eye contact momentarily to look at 3. He then mumbled something, you thought you could make out him saying your number then both looked back at you. 

My fantasy threesome. No! Stop…

You realised that to him it likely looked like you were ogling at his face. You turned away from their eyes and looked down at your plate of food, shoving a bite-too-big into your mouth out of nervousness. Your cheeks hurt from distension with the amount of food inside, you didn’t look up to check, but you hoped they turned away now. Alas, you could still feel their eyes on you. 

The awkward exchange was brought to an end by a yell from outside. 2- you hadn't even noticed that she’d gotten up- was yelling at someone in the square. You got up to join 3, 4, 6 and 7 in their observation of the commotion, but not before helping 1 up from his position.

“Thank you,” he said, to which you gave him a short nod, clearly more occupied by the issue outside. 

 “Hey, what are you doing!,” 2 yelled at 8, you now saw what was going on.

8 had used up most of the time to buy…clothes. You were all left with just under 20 minutes till the show's end. Everyone ran down quickly to meet an annoyingly ‘confused’ 8 at the centre. She feigned cluelessness as she questioned the ruckus. 

“You spent all our time on clothes!” 2 all but freaked out. “Why didn't you do it in your own room!”

8 gave an innocent look and then said; “I wanted to wear them out here. And we could always just increase the time..?”

“And how would we do that?” 7 questioned calmly (with his addictive ass voice).

8th floor looked between everyone’s distressed faces and laughed, “Really? None of you know how to get more time?”

“Stop messing around and just spit it out!” 2 inched closer to 8.

“I’ll tell you…” she trailed off for a moment. “If you apologise to me.”

“Enough games! I’m not apo-” 2 began but was cut off by 6 grabbing her arm.

 “Use your words, talk it out.” he said firmly. 

4th pushed between them and began to apologise on behalf of 2nd. Surprisingly this worked.

“It’s the stairs!” 8th motioned to the area behind her. “Going up and down increases the time.”

That…doesn’t even make the least bit of sense. Why would it be the stairs? Wouldn’t it be counter-intuitive to place so many cameras for a show about stairs. Surely someone saw the flaw in this theory…7! 

In the spur of the action that everyone seemed to jump into, you whipped your head over to seven who was already looking at you, a look of understanding was exchanged, but the others had already started running to the steps and you two were due to join them soon. It seemed that everyone else was convinced. Or in the least bit willing to try. So, with a deep breath in, you split from 7 jogging to the stairway on the right, him on the left. Up & down. That's how you guys spent the next 15 minutes. Testing out the theory of this hellish exercise being your source of time. After a quarter hour of hardwork and heavy sweat, you all stood back, a little defeated as the clock counted down from 10 seconds. But when it reached 1, it flashed and went up again to 30 hours! A collective sigh/laugh of relief washed over you all. You’re getting another chance at this money game. A whole other day just from climbing the stairs. 8th floor giggled loudly,

“See! I told youuuu. I noticed the time go up when we were seeing the rooms and I figured it out, haha! I’m pretty smart!”

Except you weren’t convinced. Yes, ok, maybe the facts point to the obvious, but it still didn’t make any sense. Whatever.  

. . .  

Night fell quicker than you’d anticipated, likely because being in this space was very disorienting. You have no way of telling the actual time other than the huge clock they provide. hmm. It was the young hour of 8pm when everyone retreated to their personal spaces to sleep. 8pm for you however, signaled the end of your shift and start of you free time, so sleep was not greeting you any time soon. Your room was pretty boring, even after all the ‘decorating’ you’ve done. A fold-out bed, like 6’s, a pillow and a blanket. Plus the ‘toilet’ that you’d blocked off with a few cardboard boxes for your own peace of mind. Despite not being much, it had cost you a fortune. Tossing and turning in the prison like bed did nothing to quiet your mind nor entertain it. It killed time though. Still, the ceiling here was much more boring than the one back home and- back home! Who the hell was going to be covering your rent? It was due in a few days. Oh no…You would really rather not come home to an eviction notice. Anxiety began to bubble in your chest. Your feet quickly took you to the phone, but since you were not requesting something in-game, you were not even given a price. You looked at the nearest camera and pleaded to whomever was on the other side but still you could not rest. It was around this hour you’d take a nightly stroll anyway. 

The outside was a bit cooler than the room, making you hug yourself for warmth. Forearms resting on the stairs edge, there was a faint smell of cigarettes in the air, gag. The room, vast as it was, was very unassuming from up here. You thought maybe exploring the downstairs would be fun. 

Fake ice cream in the parlor, fake dogs at the stand, fake clothes in the shop, an ominous figure moving out of the corner of your eye, fake pizza at the-wait. You quickly whipped around only to be met with glasses inches away from your face. A yelp almost escaped had he not covered your mouth and pushed you into the wall. 7. Finally eye to eye after a day’s worth of side eyes. 

This gave you an opportunity to take a good look at him. A bit taller than you, very intense eyes hidden behind a neat pair of round-rim glasses. The events of the day had left their print on him, hair a slight mess and cheeks tinted red from exhaustion. He looked down at you with a stong poker face and you considered biting his hand. Right now, you have no idea what his intentions are here nor what he wants with you. You stood there panting for a beat or two before he took his hand off of your lips, but not before shushing you first. You stood together in a momentary awkward silence as he let out a deep sigh and fixed his glasses back up his face. You raised an eyebrow at him, motioning him to break the ice you stood on. 

“Sorry,” he started. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“Wow. What would you do if did mean to startle me,” you joked, earning no reaction from him. Not a single muscle movement, not even a slight smile or anything. 

Tough crowd.

His face slowly turned away from you and you followed his gaze towards the time screen. 

“You didn’t seem convinced earlier with the time situation, did you have another theory?” he whispered

Of course you did, it really wasn’t that difficult to put together

“Why wouldn’t I be convinced? We saw the time go up, no?” You tried to play dumb, to which he only slightly turned his head to give you a sarcastic look. You almost squirmed under his glare. He then turned himself to be fully facing you and you mirrored his position. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and popped one into his mouth, then proceeded to tilt the pack as an offer to you, which you politely declined. He shot you a questioning look.

“They’re worse for you than I could possibly explain,” you chuckled. 

He nodded as he flicked his lighter and took in a deep inhale which he exhaled from his nose in your general direction. He knew what he was doing. You let out a few fake coughs to try to get the flow of conversation to start again, he only kept eyeing you observantly.

“You’d make a terrible actress,” he said between puffs. You chose to remain silent. Another breath in, then out, “The cameras, the time, the hours added after touring the rooms, do you think I think you're that naive?”

You cursed your inability to mask your facial expressions. He must’ve seen the enlightenment on your face earlier this morning, then again on the stairs. You let out a defeated sigh. 

“I think…they want a show…Content,” you hesitated.

He gave you a satisfied nod, “that’s what I fear.” And after a brief moment of contemplation; “You’re pretty observant 5,” he said, tongue in cheek. 

He threw his burnt out cigarette at his feet then looked down as he stomped on it. His eyes shifted back up to your face then the clock. Almost midnight. You waited patiently for him to add to his previous statement, but you only observed him sniff lightly and fix his glasses again. His eyes met yours one last time, then he turned away and headed for the stairs. You watched as he paused after only a short distance was put between you. His hand went up to rest on his hip and the other to rub his eyes. It seemed like he wanted to say something but was unsure if he should. Before you could speak up he said;

“It’s good to know I can depend on someone here.”, Shooting you a quick look at the end then he sauntered away to his room. 

Heat crept up your cheeks, and you tried to convince yourself it was due to flattery and nothing else. 

. . .  

The smell of something burning overwhelmed your senses. You couldn’t find the source of the smoke that was blocking your vision completely. A faint yet somehow prominent ticking was shaking your entire being with every click. Voices started circling your form, they were asking you something you couldn’t quite make out. Chanting your name in a calm, level voice, unfitting for the situation at hand. 

Over

And over 

And over 

And-

You turned around, now finding yourself in your old apartment’s kitchen. It felt like home. The source of the voice hunched over the sink was a man, wearing an apron over a pristine white uniform, his eyes locked on your figure, a concerned knot of his brows etched onto his forehead. 

“Seven…” you sighed with relief. He gave you a confused, then sincere look, opening his welcoming arms to you. You crossed confidently into his warm embrace, this felt so natural. You’d done this more than a hundred times over. Over on the stove, he was making-burning-some scrambled eggs. There’s the source of the smoke. You said something to him and he gave a hearty laugh, not that you heard either side of this conversation. It was all blurry. You whipped around, still in his cradle to find the source of a new, loud thumping sound. The apartment front door- your train of thought was derailed when the sound became banging.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Hurried bangs met your door, causing the fantasy around you to crumble.

5…5..

“5! Are you ok?” an unfamiliar voice called from outside, startling you awake. You rolled off the bed onto the floor, determined to stop the disturbance before gathering your thoughts. Stumbling up towards the door handle, you ripped it open to reveal a quite agitated 7, both hands on hips, glasses perched atop his head. The events of your dream started coming back to you, making your eyes widen in embarrassment. He took a deep breath in, eyebrows furrowing at your expression.

“Are you ok? We-” he was cut off by the room door slamming shut. He remained in his position for a second, confusion now settling onto his face, and fixed his glasses back were they’re of use to him. 

Inside, you were having a mini spiral, heat still strong on your cheeks and down your neck.

You’ve known the man for all of 24 hours and you’re already fantasising about him?! Ok maybe not fantasising, you obviously can’t control your dreams. Dear lord, he’s barely even spoken 5 full sentences in your general direction! Girl get it together. 

You ran your hands down your face, wishing you could have some ice cold water to splash yourself in right now. Heart still beating a million beats, you spent the better part of 5 minutes trying to make yourself more presentable and less like a girl who’d been dreaming of her teammate. So much for not making things weird. It hit you that, due to the absence of your alarm, you’d probably overslept and the others were likely waiting on you to begin the plight of stair climbing. You felt so awkward, you hoped they didn’t let you sleep that long. With one final stretch, you opened the door again, ready to face the crowd. You took one singular step outside before a voice startled you from the side. 

“5 are you-” he started, only to be cut off by your slight jump and not so slight scream. 

“You need to stop doing that.” You panted. 

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m fine.” That came out a bit harsher than you intended, you just need to put some air between the two of you right now, let the hormones settle or whatever. You kept your head forward as you walked to the stairs, catching a glimpse of the others who were looking up at you. This descent was encased in an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of your footsteps, 7’s a few paces beyond you. 

Finally re-joining the group, you said a quick good morning and stood quietly as 7 explained the plan for today. You had your arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor as he spoke next to you. You’re sure they heard your scream. Also why was he the one to come check up on you? You found yourself recalling last night’s interaction, reflexively biting the inside of your cheek. You looked up to find 8 smirking knowingly at you, not that there was anything to know. Her eyes bounced between you and 7 a few times as her lips spread out into her million dollar smile, clearly unable to contain excitement, and you doubt it had anything to do with the disgusting exercise you’re about to embark on. You avoided her looks timidly only to find 2 also giving you a side-eye-smirk combo. 

“Okay ready? Off we go.”

For the next 4 days you went laps through the stairs to earn more time and also started to genuinely regret not just killing yourself, although the stairs have been giving you a very similar effect.

Lunch was always a treat, more figuratively than literally. Sitting in 1st floor’s room and sharing vague stories had become your favourite part of the day. 

You’ve grown especially fond of 2. Her quick wit and loud laugh broke through the hardened exterior she’d put up pretty quickly. Her company was always welcome. 4th floor seemed sweet, though her continuous complaining and subtle pessimism drove you crazy sometimes. 

3, a man deserving of an award for how awkward he is, had become closer to 7. Often conversing as they smoked. Watching them was a bit of a guilty pleasure of yours now. Especially the latter of the two. Maybe you should’ve taken him up on that cigarette. 

The more time you spent here, the more you got closer to putting your finger on where you’ve seen 6th before. When you brought this up to him in a private conversation he stiffened up. 

“Just one of those faces,” he clenched his jaw in anger, though you never found out what could have prompted that. 

8 has never joined your lunches, despite 7; someone who was only the floor below her, being always present. Not that you would ever complain about either of those things. 

You and him found a small���routine growing. 

It had started with you lagging behind everyone going to bed, usually ending up alone. You chose to spend this time in the open air rather than the small room, it gave you a sense of tranquility. Away from the banter and bickering, embraced by the oh so familiar silence. He joined you the first night after 20ish minutes of solitude. You hadn’t expected conversation to take place between you two, owing to your brief encounter the night before, but you were pleasantly surprised. 

You two were seated on the swingset side by side, him completely still as you swayed back and forth a little. There was a short lived comfortable quiet between you two, unexpectedly broken by; 

“Do you want to play chess?”

And that’s how you ended up in his room, sat on the floor hunched over a freshly-bought chess set. It's not like you hadn’t played this before, but you were in no way good at it. Hell, you still take a moment to remember which piece moves which way every turn. It seemed however, that this was 7’s domain. Can this man get any more cliche. He explained the rules slowly to you, nothing stuck though, your mind was obviously elsewhere. The first match-set ended in a 3-0, his win obviously, but you held your ground pretty well, rounds lasting upwards of 40 minutes.

“Not bad,” he said after one particular move caught him off guard, prompting a fluster spell to take over you, followed by a quick loss. Maybe he planned it. 

On the second night, he offered to teach you some techniques that you could use. You thought this counterintuitive because he’d know how to get you anyway. But you really couldn’t turn down getting to listen to him talk for 20 continuous minutes. Your bottom lip hurt from how often you bit it to suppress a giggle. You still lost, obviously. 2-0

The following day you used some of your money to buy a chess guide. It was less out of a crush and more so your burning competitiveness. He opened his door that night to find you; out of the uniform jacket with sleeves rolled up to your elbows and a determined look on your face. You took a little longer to meet up with him that night, spending an extra hour alone memorising new moves. You were going to wipe that cocky smirk off of his face no matter what. You’d managed to counter some of his moves and kept the games going for longer. 1 whole hour, your new personal best. It was during the final few moves from each of you that you’d taken him by surprise. 

“Check-mate,” you said with a premature victory smile. 

His eyes widened, hand rushing up to fix the glasses back into their preferred spot. He made an exaggerated movement of rubbing his eyes under the frame, only to look at the board again. He brought his face closer to the board and turned his eyes up to look at you as he grabbed a piece to nullify your previous move. 

“You lost,” he whispered. 

“Heyyy you didn’t even say checkmate!” You whined 

“We don’t have to,”

“You’re playing dirty!” 

You erupted into a fit of giggles, mirrored by him with a stifled laugh. You found yourself leaning back on your elbows as he also adjusted his position to be closer to you. You shut your eyes and tilted your head back, really breathing in this moment. He took this chance to properly scan you over, stopping curiously at a large scar on your left forearm. 

“What’s this?” he queried.

“What?” your eyes snapped down to where he was looking. “This…is  a scar?”

He rolled his eyes. “How did you get it,” he subconsciously ran his index down the discoloured tissue, sending shivers down your back. 

“Oh uhm,” you stuttered nervously. “I- hey wait what happened to keeping our lives to ourselves here?”

“For one, I wasn’t the one to suggest that” he kept inspecting your arm with his finger, almost like a child fascinated by a toy. “And I beat you, three nights in a row so,”

“What? Cmon!” you scoffed. “We never agreed on this! Why don’t you tell me something about you first? Like whether or not you’re some chess champion and I’m an idiot for battling a professional.”

“You’re not in a negotiating position right now,” he laughed, that’s a first. “Just…keep it vague.”

“Protesting,” you finally answered. His face changed into an unreadable expression, followed by what you could swear was him being a bit impressed. 

“Didn’t take you as the type,” he hesitated. 

“Wow, I’m a little offended.”

“No I just- you look a lot more like a pacifist.”

“No I hate sitting around doing nothing in the face of corruption, gotta fight for what you love you know.”

Sensing the sudden heaviness that fell onto your conversation you got up to leave. He remained in his position on the ground, cogs clearly turning inside. You reached for the door handle.

“Don’t hurt your brain thinking too hard, pretty.” you didn’t mean for that last part to be said out loud. He snickered. 

“I’m not.”

“Good,”

“No, I mean I’m not a grandmaster. I just play for fun,”“Gotya, I’ve been losing to just some guy. Great.”

“Goodnight 5,”

“Good night 7,” 

. . .  

It had been a long 4 days. Food was never enough anymore, having each of you fight chopstick to chopstick for the last bite of anything was beginning to weigh down on everyone. A collective sigh erupted around 1st’s room.

“We must be burning like 30000 calories a day, shouldn’t we be getting more food?” 4th questioned.

“Hmm I could really go for a hot dog right now,” 3rd all but moaned, head resting on the wall behind him.

“We need to divide the work in two,” 6th dropped his utensils onto the empty boxes. Now that sounded like a plan. Go team! 

So, everyone decided that, starting the next morning, you’ll split into 2 equal teams to divide the work. The odds and the evens, a genius solution to-

“I want to switch, we don’t get along,” 2 sighed. She had a point though, her and all the other members of her team had been picking petty fights and arguments all week. You’ve all had to practically pull them apart, especially with 6 and 8. It would be best if she switches,yes. You gave it a moment of thought , yeah no. Not jumping into that piranha pit. Who in their right mind would-

“I don’t mind which team I’m on,” 1st floor the man that you are. 

And so it was decided, team 1 (odds) will be running tomorrow while team 2 (evens, obvi) rests. Whichever team does the work that day gets 2 meals per person, whilst the resting team gets only 1, allowing us to both rest and digest on alternating days. A satisfying tandem. 

. . .  

“What do you think of the new system?” Chess set long abandoned in favour of a cigarette to ease his mind. Always the worrier, he was. 

“I think it will work. Or I hope it does anyway,”

“Still think it isn’t the stairs?”

You’d actually completely forgotten that. “...I don’t know.”

. . .  

The system worked well, for 5 days you switched back and forth between leisure and hardwork. 

You would often observe 1st floor on your days off. Witnessing him falling very far behind due to his leg. You wanted to ask him about it but never found the right time. It led to him meeting his lap quota way later than anyone else, but you knew if you called out the unfairness you’d only be met with criticism. Plus tension was already high in that group. On the upside, you got to watch 7 find ways to entertain himself on your down-time (and all hot and sweaty on odd days). The most entertaining thing to do though, was utilising this time with 2nd floor. She tried to teach you some of her calisthenics, but those moves were really easier watched than done. Even 3rd joined you on multiple occasions giving you the purest form of entertainment. And your most favourite; men falling flat on their ass.

The bubble was abruptly burst by a scream echoing from the stairwell, and you all rushed to the victim’s aid. You arrived to see 6th floor tightly clutching 1st’s hand. You didn’t catch what he told him, too focused on determining if there was an injury to tend to or not. Old habits die hard. 2nd pushed past 6th, making a point of bumping into him on her way up. 1st protested, and you gathered what happened here. She was covering for him.

“I get stiff when I don’t workout.”

When your day rolled around the following morning, she was clearly exhausted from the added load and collapsed halfway through the top. 

“You ok?” you crouched next to her.

“Yeah yeah fine, just need a minute.”

. . .  

“I don’t need it,” 2nd protested.

“Yeah you do actually,” you refuted. “Plus I’m full.” Liar.

She wanted to continue arguing but her stomach clearly had the upper hand. 7 gave you a small smile from the other side of the stuffy room. You’d become better at figuring him out, every twitch and blink of his like its own secret code. You held his eyes for a few more seconds, but with the state of him at the moment- cheeks red, eyes tired and the day’s hard work evident on his face- you thought it best to look away. 

This incident happened again, a day later with 3rd floor as well. Noble as it was, it came with the looming threat of 6th floor’s bubbling impatience. 4th floor, whom you’d previously thought to be on the kinder side, was upset at 1st floor eating his regular meal schedule. It's not like he wasn’t working at all, just less than usual. You couldn't understand what the big deal was, it really wasn’t like he was holding everyone back. 

. . .  

A well deserved mid-work break in your personal quarters was now a luxury you didn’t previously predict. With unease weighing heavy on everyone, group meals were switched out for solitude, for the best anyway. 2nd floor would sometimes join you to sit in silence together. Well, usually sit in silence.

“You almost got it,” her gruff voice commented, still eating her food.

“Really? It feels like the wall is doing all the work right now,” you flopped back down, an ‘oof’ sound escaping as your back hit the floor.

She dusted her hands, getting up to show you.

“It’s all in your mindset,”

“What kind of health pseudoscience is that?” you giggled, watching her perfectly do a handstand in the middle of the room.

She gave you an unimpressed look, “You’re close minded. Your putting too much focus on just your body, but if you're scared of falling, you won’t be able to get up there,”

“Deep,”

“No. I’m talking about handstands, don’t make it profound,” she chuckled as she dropped back down, pausing for a moment before talking again.

“What’s with you and glasses?”

“What?”

“Saw you sneaking up to his room the other night” she gave you a cheeky look.

“I was not *sneaking*, it was late and I didn’t want to wake anyone up. We just play chess together, that’s all. And we’re just friends,”

“Why at night?”

“Neither of us can sleep that early. Plus we’re sort of busy during the day?” you made a pendulous up and down movement with your finger.

“And our days off?”“What were you doing up that late anyway?”

“Irrelevant, answer the question.”

“I-” You paused to think. Why *did* you two only meet in such late hours. This had completely gone past you somehow. Outside, you would never entertain a guy that only seeks you out after sundown, why had you let it happen here? Yeah sure, it's nicer at night with no one else around but…but what? You two weren’t a thing, this was just a silly crush! He doesn’t owe you anything. And you don’t have to prove anything now.

“It’s just how it is 2nd, don’t read too much into it.”

Her face had morphed into that of subtle anger.

“You and I are friends, you don’t see me hiding that.” she huffed, her tone changing to that of quiet scolding. “You can’t trust him! Especially not those floors. I don’t know what he wants with you, but I’d keep my guard up.”

  . . .   

The chute groaned open unexpectedly, filling the room with a pungent smell. Inside, dozens of black bags were stacked up next to bottles of…pee? You couldn’t even try to theorise as to what might be going on here. Standing up to find an answer, you walked over to the door, abandoning your food, appetite long gone. You opened the door to find the welcoming blond haired woman leaning against the frame. Before you could ask, she said;

“1st feels guilty about not being able to keep to keep up, so he offered to keep everyone's waste in his room,”

“And the others agreed to pile up their crap in the smallest room?” 

She shrugged and walked away. 

You thought of the kind man 4 floors below you, and how his conscience put him in this position. It didn’t make sense though. He’s already at the most disadvantage here, both by  earning the least and having a tiny tiny living space. You thought of how the bags would hinder movement even further, and how, since everyone would eat in his room, he’d already had to stockpile the empty boxes. And oh god the stench. You only had the chute open for a minute or two but you’re sure the smell was going to haunt you tonight. The number of bags in the metal box -obviously belonging to the top three floors- had you guessing if some of them had an explosive week and a half. Probably 6th. Your eyes looked over to your own stock of goods. No, your room was big enough. You hit the button to close the chute and send it down without contributing to this mess of a situation. It was time to get back to running so you did some of the stretches that 2nd taught you to ease the aching muscles.

  . . .   

“You look like you need an exorcism”

“Sorry we don’t all have loose ligaments”

“What does that even mean”

  . . .   

You opened the already unlocked door to regroup with your team, only to find a disgruntled 2 leaning against the railing.

“Did you do it?” she questioned with a poker face.

“No,” “3rd and 4th did. 6th and 8th too,”

“7th?” 

“No idea,” she looked off to the side. 

Before you could say anything else, 3rd floor zoomed up past you, tripping over nothing for no reason.  Followed by 7th, who shot a ‘get to work look’ at both of you. This pissed her off.

“Why does he act like he’s the only person here with a brain?” It was more a statement than a question. You dropped your head down in a defeated sigh. He really does act like that. 

“We should-”

“After you.”

  . . .   

1st floor’s idea brought life back to the show, with 6th floor’s glares long gone, everyone felt at ease. Group lunches became a daily thing again and you think that you saw 6 smiling at 1 the other day, though you might’ve just been hungry. Your visits to 7th’s room had become less

frequent, owing mostly to the talk you had with 2nd, though he did not seem to overthink the change. 1st floor would still help, at his own pace, which baffled you. Was he now not doing twice the work? No-one else seemed to mind, but you thought of a way to give back to your unlucky teammate. You had noticed earlier that he had next to no belongings in his room, nothing to sleep with specifically.  Before the next waste delivery came around, you bought a warm blanket and a soft pillow -nicer than the ones you got yourself, since you’re likely spending a while here anyway- and wrapped them in an unassuming black bag with ‘open me’ written on with some marker. You made a point of blending it in with the other bags just because you really don’t know 4th floor’s situation and you feared someone else would take it. It wasn’t much, but it was the least you could do. The following morning, you awoke to see a well rested, smiley 1st floor, it filled you with warmth. 

“Oh 1st floor, how did you get that” 3rd floor noticed the new living situation during lunch. 

“Someone sent it to me as a gift I think,” he smiled from ear to ear. “They did not mention who they were…thank you.” he bowed his head to everyone in the room.

Looks were exchanged all around but you’d managed to keep a poker face and act as surprised as the others, you didn’t do this for praise afterall. More for the community. 

The issue at hand now was the time, which had not been meeting the quota you predicted it would. It all came to a head on an even day. 

They had been running all day, with not a minute gained on the time. 

“Screw this, I’m going back to my room.” 8th pushed past 4th. 

“What?” she panted back to her.

“It’s not working, I’m not doing this anymore.”

“You can’t just-” but she’d already turned away. 

You looked back at the clock desperately, still nothing. Your team ended up joining them, in a miserable attempt to prolong your stay. Up and down till nightfall. 8 hours remained ticking down by the end of the day. But then, as all was seemingly hours away from being lost. The time shot up 20 minutes, then another. A laugh of relief escaped everyone's mouth.

“Stupid thing was lagging” 6th wheezed. With that, you called it in for the night, hopeful that tomorrow, things will go back to how they were. 

Oh how you couldn’t be more wrong. 

  . . .   

Another morning waking up to panic and banging on your door. You rushed up and out of the room to cast your eyes to the time. 20 minutes. What happened! This can’t end like this. Everyone began doing their part frantically. Up & down. You finished just the one cycle before a different kind of panic erupted from the stairs a few floors below you. Rushing down to a small gathering of your teammates, hunched over someone flat on the ground, you pushed yourself in between to assess the situation. 4th floor, seizure. 

“She’s seizing!” you panted as you put her into the recovery position. 

“Do you have medical training?” Really 7th? Is this really the time to ask this? What does it look like?

“EMT.” 

“What does she need?” 

“Phenytoin! She needs Phenytoin!” At that, 2nd and 3rd rushed down to reach the square for the medicine. In hindsight, it would've probably been quicker if they used one of the rooms, too late now. 

7th helped you carry her all the way down, but by the time you met with everyone, a fist fight had erupted. 6th had tackled 2nd to the ground. 7th left your side to try to control the situation only to be roped into the fight. 3rd’s nose was now bleeding.

“She could get permanent brain damage!” Your reasoning fell onto deaf ears

It all happened so fast- the fight, the call and…giggles. You looked behind you to find 8th floor, hunched over herself and clutching her stomach in laughter. 

“Can’t you see what I see?” she wiped actual tears from her eyes. 

True to her words, a marvelous site casted its glow upon all onlookers.

Time was added.  

03/ Chess not checkers.

[limolib]

01/Flat-line.

7th floor x female reader (the 8 show) Masterlist

WC:4.0K, specific chapter warnings: suicide mention.

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅::]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Sitting back and watching others work their magic was really not your strong suit , and it was most definitely your least favorite part of the job. They were in there for at least 20 minutes and still, no contact or even a report back. Nervousness spread quickly through the smoke-thick air, as they themselves had not returned. You leaned back on the ambulance in silence next to your coworkers, collectively observing the fire lapping up the side of the short apartment building. This was the worst call to be on, you always thought. You didn’t know if it would be worse to live through it or die in it. The extent of burns always make your skin itch and the smell of burning flesh seems to stick to your bones for days. The second team of firefighters headed into the building due to no response from the first team after a few attempts at contact. Other, unharmed, residents huddled around the blocked-off area in their pajamas as bystanders filmed the glowing sight. There was just one apartment affected by this whole thing, but the door to the place seemed to have melted shut and there was no other way in.  

“2 kids 2 adults,” your colleague filled you in, eyes unmoving from the residence’s window showcasing bright dancing flames. A shadowy figure finally appeared in the entrance way, 2 men, one standing upright and the other slumped over his shoulder, both firefighters.  You immediately went into action with your partner receiving and supporting the injured man. Your curiosity about the situation faded as you began first aid. Smoke inhalation and a few minor burns, nothing major. Shockingly, however, the man was showing signs of acute hysteria. The world began to fade away as you got to resuscitation, everything else becoming just background noise. Airway, breathing, circulation ok. Pain control done. Your hands went on autopilot. 

He mumbled something about a collapse and being stuck inside the entire time.

. . . 

The reporter on the tv was still talking about the fire, apparently there’s a conspiracy or something. You lie down on your worn-out couch, your face lit up by the glow of your phone, bank account open to show the ever-increasing debt you’ve managed to rack up, which, according to your calculations, you’d be able to pay off in a few hundred years… If you starve and also live in the street. Your eyes shifted from the screen to the degree hung on the wall. So many people had warned you about being a first responder. 

“You’ll burn out quickly,”

“It's worse than you could predict,”

You know what, they were right. To hear of death is one thing. To see it in school is another. To live in it every. Single. Day. is suffocating. Hell, even the pay you’d hear of was simply not true. So here you are, elbows deep in one of the most stressful professions with no money to show for it. It was also very isolating. Not only do you get off of work very late (and super tired), so you couldn’t really socialise, but you also can’t confide in your coworkers because they have their own problems to deal with. You were surviving up until pretty recently just fine. Picking up extra shifts and odd jobs to keep up with never–ending payments but you made it work. 3 weeks ago however, a gas leak in your building took the life of your smiley neighbour, along with your cat. It had hit you then, you had very little to live for before this. But now? All gone. You used to look forward to coming home to a very chatty boy and his aftermath of a messy apartment. In fact, the cleaning portion of your day took your mind off of the horrors you’d witness. Your neighbour and her daughter would stop by a few times a week to share food ever since they’d moved in just over a year ago. Although only now you realised you’d never learned her name. Or maybe you’ve forgotten it in grief. This, albeit a bit pathetic, kept a glimmer of sunshine in your otherwise desolate routine. You caught your reflection in the black phone screen, sunken eyes and a gray face. You wondered if this was grief or malnutrition. It has all crumbled so suddenly, although, looking back at things now, the paint has been chipping away for some time. So here you are, in a top tier career but a debt so crushing you’re living just slightly paycheck to paycheck. Neither a failure nor succeeding. Stuck in the in-between. You couldn’t even find it in you to cry. What for…Who to? Your mind will not quiet down to let you sleep and the place was starting to feel stuffy, so you bundled up over your scrubs and went out for a stroll in the brisk autumn night air. Maybe you could fake your death? Move to Thailand under a new name or something… Where would you even get the money for that? How much does faking your death cost? Oh, it's a whole industry! Hmph.

. . . 

“Oh my god you again?!” the front-desk nurse laughed. “Any more donations and you’ll be running on empty.”

“Maybe you should stop tempting me with free juice and a cookie,”

“It’s not free, you pay for it by passing out.You can’t give anymore blood.”

“Ok plasma then.”

“Same concept.” She deadpanned. 

This little hack had gotten you countless ‘fancy’ dinners, and tonight's no exception. A warm plate of grocery store noodles that would’ve otherwise been out of budget. The rest of the money would be put towards cat food. Would’ve been, anyway. You sat at a bridge slurping your food, eyes observing the bustling city’s skyline in silence. Matter of fact, practically your whole life now is encased in silence. Sigh. It was almost 10pm. Best be heading home. 

. . . 

You hoped the short walk and treat would rid you of this feeling and when it didn't, you gave a cold shower a chance to do the same. Not that you have the luxury of hot water, but anyway. That didn’t work either. So that’s how you ended up here, pills in hand. They were prescribed to you to help with your insomnia. You stopped taking them because the misery you found yourself in had caused you to sleep more than the normal hours. You strolled over to your tiny balcony, hoping that this would allow your body to be found sooner. Pills in one hand, bottle in the other, you bought your hand up to your mouth but then…hesitated. You shouldn’t…

Why not though? You were not alive, not dead either, just something in the middle. What's a life with no living? There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. Death was something you had become used to, it was almost familiar. Plus, maybe this way you’ll get the relief you've been longing for. Putting some tablets into your mouth, you paused to think, heart racing. How many do I need to take, is this enough? What if they’re expired? Would it be enough or would you just end up a vegetable or something. Your 7 years of medical knowledge had left your body. You don’t have the insurance to cover this. Screw it. Big breath in and

Ping!

The device in your pocket vibrated. A text? From whom? At this hour? Never-mind. Probably just marketing or something.

1…2-

Ping!

Another came

Ping! Ping!

Then another, and another.

You held the pills in your mouth for a minute and fished your phone out of your pocket. It was money transferred into your account. But those numbers caught you very off-guard. Definitely not marketing. You spit the medicine out onto the ground and rinsed your mouth with some water. Each amount was coupled with a text. Something about buying the time you had given up. A suspicious white limousine stopped in front of your building, with windows so deeply tinted that you couldn’t make out if there was someone in the driver’s seat or not. On one hand, you’ve got nothing to lose and clearly this person has plenty to share. But something felt off. Your gut was filled with unease, almost making you throw up the mushy food you had earlier. 

It can’t get much worse than this. Actually it can…you clutched your valuable organs. But whatever. 

So, swallowing your fears, you ran downstairs, hopped in and took off. 

. . . 

Two blood red numbered cards in a circle of blank ones stared at you. 2 & 5. You pondered for a minute, but you couldn’t even come up with what they might be for. This was supposed to be a show after all. The paper in the envelope was not any help. Food and water, no one dies, leave now if you want. The second one had caught you off-guard, what a random and odd thing to include, why would anyone die? How odd. You eyed the money, which was, by any means, not a small sum. Added to the money they’d already transferred, you’d be going home with a substantial stack of cash to keep you a little more comfortable for a while. But then again - your eyes went back to the cards- this money doesn’t even put a dent in your debt, and they’re clearly willing to dish more out. An hour-ish ago you were ready to end it all, what more could possibly be there to lose? Your hand reached for 2 but hesitated, your best guess is that this would be a game show. 2 could be a disadvantage of having a turn so early. 5 however, not in the beginning, not at the end, just in the middle. You’ve started to find comfort in the half-way you seem to keep finding yourself in. 5 it is. 

The door locked shut behind you and you flinched, only to continue looking around the kids’ playground you strolled into. Cameras decorated the edge of the ceiling, how orwellian. 5 flights of stairs later, you were face to face with your room. It reminded you heavily of your own apartment, so you can't really complain. Show begins at midnight, got it, don't take items out of the room, okay,  leave all belongings…including clothes? You have to change infront of all these cameras? That would be quite the show. You didn’t want to think of what kind of sicko was watching right now. You panned over to the cameras to check. Yup, blinking red, so, recording, as far as you can tell anyway. An exasperated sigh escaped your dry lips. What the hell, sure. 

A countdown lit up the room as you sat in a corner with your eyes closed. No turning back now. 

About a  minute of silence and then -tchk- the scoreboard went from 0 to 80,000. Is that…money?

No-way…right? Another minute, another 80,000. What. The. Hell. Your gaze shot to the phone next to the board. Inching towards it carefully, you pondered what you could ask for. A quick look around the room gave you an idea. 

“Could I have a pillow please?”

A number flashed on the screen causing your eyes to widen. ‘A special price’ oh okay. Except it was like a thousand times more than usual. Is the show about inflation?  

“Uhm, never-mind” you shoved the phone back into its place. 

You padded back into the corner you’d found comfort in, sat down and hugged yourself. A deep sigh was let out as you weighed your options. The chill of the room made its way down your poorly covered spine causing a short shiver to shoot through your muscles, making it hard to focus on the task at hand. 

500,000 won for a pillow and another 2 million for a blanket. 

Right now you're sitting at only 480,000. It would take about half an hour to collect the amount. That’s do-able. But then you’d be shot back down to zero, and who knows how long they're letting you stay in here. 

Hmmmm

It’s been a long day. Your eyelids-despite the room temperature- were drooping. You’ve been here before. Sleeping upright with only your own embrace for warmth. Tomorrow you’ll be able to feel the pulse of how the show’s system goes. In the meantime, you focused on slowing your breathing, hoping your dreams would be kinder and warmer than here. 

. . .  

 “Everyone, wake up! Come down here so we can meet each other!” a female voice called from the distance

Another dreamless night, at least it's not a nightmare. Always only half-way. The scoreboard read a whopping 38.4 million! You counted the zeros once, twice, maybe this was the dream. Another voice joined the commotion outside and you thought it best to catch up now, lest you miss something. A quick couple of pats to your bedhead and a few face slaps later, hurried towards your room door and grabbed the knob, but something stopped you there. Since this is a game show, it would be best to be likeable. It won’t be difficult, since, once upon a time, you were way more social and charismatic, you’ll just have to slip back into your old ways. Or rather, new beginnings. The thought filled you with giddy, you could feel your old, confident self crawling out of her cave. Also, it would be an advantage to capture the hearts of the audience, no? Maybe build an alliance. A stupid smile stretched across your face. Okay, you can do this. 

After a quick turn of the knob, you made your way down the stairs and to your teammates, or contestants, who knows. A quick headcount told you there were 6 outside, 7 including you, making you second to last to show up. Stupid details, nevermind.

“Good morning!” the cheerful voice from earlier said to you, it belonged to the girl in floor 4. 

“Good morning,” you replied with a soft smile.  “I’m-”

“Why bother?” A rougher female voice cut you off. “We won’t see each other after this anyway”

Floor 2, noted. 

“That's a bit bleak but sure haha,” you replied playfully. 

You looked around to take note of everyone else here. Floor 3 was an awkward, dorky looking dude, nothing really special. His gaze was fixed on his nails anyway. Floor 8 was a very pretty girl, her outfit, however caught your eye but you made sure not to stare. Your eyes then met hers and she winked, to which you let out a quiet giggle. Floor 6 was a tall, intimidating man. He had a few bruises peppered across his face, it filled you with heavy unease. He was layed back on a lounge chair with his eyes closed. Finally, 7th floor, who still had his back to you, but you could tell he was very confident in himself from how he was stood. He was looking up at the giant clock on the opposite wall. Or maybe he was focused on the timer below it. His head turned slightly to glance at you. He shot you a quick up and down before turning his attention back to the clock. 

Okay four eyes, I see how it is. You thought. I don’t get along with sassy men.

That concludes the headcount, leaving only-

“Sorry I’m a bit slow,” an older man limped slowly towards the group. 1st floor, he seemed kind.

That makes 8. 

After some more brief greetings, you turned your attention back to 7, whose eyes were still fixed on the timer. It hit you then. Last night that timer said 24 hours. Now it said a bit over 30. Time was added? But why? We haven’t even played any games or done anything. Then, it hit you like a shockwave. The cameras, the money, the time…they want a show. It must have been entertaining to watch everyone settle in last night with the surprise of money and all. Oh my, you felt bile rise up your stomach. For some reason your mind drifted to the stanford prison experiment and how that turned out. It's clear that there are no rules here, it's a lawless wasteland. 8 people locked in one place where seemingly anything goes…you looked down to 7, who had in turn, turned around and now had his eyes fixed on you, finally giving you a good look at him. Hello gorgeous or however you spell it. 

No. Stop.

You exchanged a glance, it almost felt like he figured it out too. You quickly turned your attention back to the group, he was a very difficult person to read and if you held more eye contact you’d probably fold. Who knows if you’re supposed to be working with or against each-other. Besides, you’re probably reading too much into this. There’s likely another dozen theories as to why they added time. No need to fret over something you can neither control nor figure-out. You didn’t see it then, but 7 smiled a very tiny smile at the sight of your fluster. 

“Was time added?” 3 spoke up. “I could swear last night it only said 24hrs”

“Woah, does that mean we’ll be here forever?” 8 teased with bright eyes, to which 6th chuckled.

“Uhm, does anyone know where the bathroom is?” 4 asked.

“There is none.” replied 2 with a sigh as she walked towards the hot dog shop. Everyone's eyes were fixed on her as she picked up one of the sandwiches.

“Wha-” 3 was cut off by 2 tossing -more throwing at- him the hotdog.

“It’s all fake.” She gave a demonstration of all the other shops which were also filled with plastic food figures.

Huh

“It seems that they went out of their way to remove basic infrastructure, sewage pipes and all.” 7th finally spoke up, his voice eerily monotone. It sent chills up your arm.

Girl stand up.

“What are we supposed to do then!” 4 exclaimed desperately.

“Last night, I thought we’d only be here for one day so I bought one of those things for camping and long distance driving-waste bags- I think.” 1st suggested “But does that mean we have to keep buying them at 100 times the price?”

“Not necessarily, no” 7 added. “We could always use the square for a ‘special price’”

“But what if it's more expensive?” You joined 

“Guess there’s one way to find out,” 6 sighed as he stalked towards the phone. “One Marlboro and a lighter.”

“What the hell are you doing?” 2nd yelled, to which 6 only threw a cocky smirk. 

Your eyes shot up to the time, 2 minutes were deducted. After some calculations, 7 came to the conclusion of it being around 2,500 won/minute, and 4 confirmed excitedly that in fact, no money had been deducted. That prompted a discussion on what should be bought using the shared money/time considering it looks like you will be here a while. And after a handful of insane suggestions -like lotion, pens, etc- they came to the conclusion of buying supplies for a makeshift toilet; a bucket and some bags, tissue, sanitary pads for the women and cigarettes for the smokers. Upon receiving the stuff, they each scurried back to their rooms to do their business. You however, weren’t really in any rush, so you waited till everyone had taken their things, leaving only you and 7. 

He wordlessly handed you your share of the grand prize, while holding your gaze. In other circumstances, you’d swoon. Almost like he’s trying to figure some secret out just by how you’re moving. You took the items and went back up to your room.

. . .  

Hunger had been making itself known, hypoglycemia had begun seeping through with a nasty headache that you couldn’t ignore. You wondered if you could ask for meds from the shared time. No, best not to piss anyone off with a personal problem. It turned out that the food was delivered to 8th floor only and she’d been conveniently keeping that to herself. All the other floors, hangry and all, were almost ready to beat 8 up. When asked about sharing, 8 just let out a suspicious hum. They accused her of eating it all alone, the only logical explanation as to why she was acting like this. She then got up, almost seductively, and took off her jacket leaving her only in a nude bra. She rubbed her stomach tenderly and for a second you thought she was gonna announce a pregnancy from the absurdity of her movements.

“I only eat one meal a day, I was just thinking of how I would share the food if I can’t get it out of the room. Hmm”

Do you want a prize? You want a cookie cause you eat just one meal a day? Want me to invite Bella hadid? My god are you insufferable, and who are you trying to impress here? You all but rolled your eyes. 2nd floor looked like she was one breath away from gouging 8th’s eyes out, so you stepped in.

“It was our first night, she didn't know any better,” You spoke up. “I would've done the same thing, it's not a big deal just a little miscommunication,”

The argument seemed to die down a bit after that. 7 looked at you and nodded as if telling you good job or something. What is this guy’s problem? 

“The chute,” he suggested. “It runs down the building to each floor, that’s how we’re supposed to share.”

“Okay!” 8 said with an earily cheerful smile but as she turned to leave, 7 interrupted her.

You were a little taken aback when he asked to come up to the room with her, was he accusing her of being a liar? Hell, 4 caught that too.

“How could we be sure there were actually 12 meals?” she accused.

With tongue in cheek, 8 agreed to have all come see the food in her room, and the group eagerly made their way to the stairs in silence. You were pretty far behind, and by the time you got to the top everyone had become frozen solid in their places. The sight of 8th floor’s room had you choking on a gasp. You could not believe what you were seeing. A room three times more spacious than yours, decorated with furniture you would not even dream of buying in real life. In the far corner sat a hot pink bathtub of which you would unlikely be able to guess the price of. Dread began creeping down your chest. What the hell is this? Opposite to the door was a fancy dining set -you didn't even buy a pillow- what in the world could she possibly need this for. Who in their right mind would spend so much money making themselves comfortable in a place they don't know how long they are staying for. You panned over to her prize board fully expecting it to be a rudimentary number, since clearly she has trouble saving her money. Instead, you saw…hell you couldn’t even comprehend what you saw. The number must have been in the billions. Just then, it went up, causing your eyes to widen.

“How much did that just go up by?” 4 stuttered.

“It was like 340 thousand,” You mumbled, but the silence in the room allowed it to be heard. 

“I’m-...only making 80 thousand.”

“80?? I’m making 30!” 3rd panted. “And I thought it was a lot!”

“30? I’m only making 10…” 1st floor said in an exasperated tone slightly above a whisper.

Your heart dropped as you -and everyone else- turned to meet his very defeated face.

Ch.02/Up & Down

A/N: I forgot to say that this is a slowwwwwww burn whew.

[limolib]

03/Chess Not Checkers.

7th floor x female reader (the 8 show) Masterlist WC:6.2K. specific chapter warnings: Not proofread :P

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅::]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

You were right, so why did you not feel victorious? Sat on the swingset with an arm around fourth, you looked around to everyone’s empty faces. 7th had taken the spot next to 3rd as he explained the current situation. You bet it was entertaining alright. Arguments, conflict, fights, pain. This was peak television. 3rd’s nose bled a little from 6th’s heavy fist, that filled you with worry. This guy was not money hungry, he was money whatever-it-takes-to-get-my-hands-on-it. 

Who could he possibly be to be that desperate for funds? The bruises on his face, similar to the ones he had when you first arrived, served as a reminder of the kind of person he was. True to the hierarchy here, 8th sat close to him but up on a chair, whilst he resided comfortably on the floor. She was not trying to contain her amusement at all. Everyone could feel it. The shift in the air. 7th suggested everyone takes the day to themselves to reassess the situation and take a break from the week and a bit worth of useless work you did.

4th relaxed comfortably in her sleeping bag, slightly embarrassed by her wall of affirmations and nightlight. You told her that if she’d needed anything, anything at all, she could count on you. 

She embraced you in a tight hug, sobbing into your shoulder, likely just from shock of the morning’s events. After comforting her as best you could, you left her sleeping frame and headed out. There was an odd stillness to the place, everyone choosing to keep to themselves for the time being. You thought about seeking 7th out. No. If there was something to be said he should come say it. 

Back in your room, a thousand thoughts circled your head. So it wasn’t the stairs. And your theory was correct. So now what? Everyone has already figured out that violence is a real kicker with the people watching, so that’s likely going to be their first instinct, no? You glanced over to the money, maybe you should buy a weapon? What good would it do confined to the room though. Simmering in your head wasn’t going to get you anywhere, so you got up to check on 3rd’s nose. You were met with his frazzled face after a short knock. He was fine though, blood loss was minimal. You wanted to find ways to delay your inevitable return to the room but the outside was’t very welcoming. Now hyper aware of all the cameras and the watchful eyes. You don’t know why it had bothered you so much, you already knew this. But having it be confirmed was a whole other thing. 

You lazily made your way up the steps to see someone standing infront of your door, the big number on his back giving him away, 7. He had been knocking with no response so you cleared your thoat. He let out a deep sigh, eyes holding the same dreary expression that you had, hiding behind his glasses. Wordlessly, you moved past him to unlock your door and motioned for him to come in. You shut the door behind him and rested your head on it, back to him. 

“I thought you’d be celebrating,” he deadpanned, back against the cool metal of the chute and face fixated on the opposite wall. 

“This does not feel like a win,” you whispered. 

“I wanted to believe it was the stairs you know. Fruit of our labour and all that.”

“Entertainment,” the word felt heavy on your tongue. “We’re bound to run out of sound ideas fast,” “We just need to try to delay violence as best we can”

“6th floor….”

“I know.”

“I mean what if- what if he decides to-” words kept getting stuck in your throat. 

“Don’t worry,” You didn’t notice that he’d moved to stand next to you until he rested his hand on your shoulder. “I’ll…We’ll do everything we could to prevent this from happening again.”

Though doubt still dominated your feelings, a sense of ease crept in knowing that 7th was on your side. Sure, fist to fist you doubt 7th would win, but, when you turned to look at him, his face held so much confidence and composure, that you couldn’t help but be filled with some comfort. It was just now that you’d gotten a good look at him since the event, he had a bruise on his jaw that your hand reflexively went up to asses, but he winced at the feeling. 

“Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere else?” you scanned his face for any other defects then took a step back to check the rest of him, not that you could see anything. 

“I’m fine just some bruises. An EMT, huh?”

Your expression read confusion for a second before you registered the question, completely forgetting what had happened before the fight.

“Oh…yeah,” you chuckled slightly. 

“How does a doctor end up here, in this situation?”

“It’s a long story. You sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah yeah I’m fine. Uh…How’s um…How’s third’s…nose?” he twitched and rolled his shoulders several times, the thing you do when trying to get rid of an uncomfortable feeling. This caught you off guard, what about third’s nose made him so uneasy? 

“He’s ok…Is it the blood?” you tried to hold back your smile. He took a deep breath and moved the glasses off his face to rub his eyes underneath, only to fix them back into their place. 

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly looking off to the side, your smile was now evident. “It just gives me a weird feeling. I’d rather not dwell on it,”

Hemophobia. 

“Sure.”

And so you two stood there, in the stillness of your room, both unsure of what to say next. It was in this silence that you’d noticed how close you two were to each other, you could practically feel his breath on your face. Did you stand this close before or had you drawn in closer subconsciously?

“It was you, wasn’t it?” he broke the silence. 

“That is a very ominous and vague question, I can’t possibly know what you’re referring to.”

“The blanket, first floor. That was you?”

“...No.” At that he exhaled a bit. “Liar.”

“I’d rather not dwell on it,” you mocked his previous tone. 

And there it was again, the silence. He was so impossibly close now, it made your brain a bit foggy. 

“Tomorrow, we’ll start talking about ideas,” He sighed. “On what to do for time. There will be suggestions of rough things but we have to keep the conversation level, ok?”

“Mmhm”

He looked down to your lips for a split second then back up to you eyes. You inhaled shakily, how would that be for entertainment. You thought of just going for it, fearing that you’d chicken out later, but then,

Knock,

Knock,

Knock.

Three quick knocks, this was 2nd floor, your eyes widened in fear and he furrowed his brows. Sigh, no use in delaying the inevitable. First you turned to him, 

“You need to go,”

“I-”

“Just…later, ok? We can talk later.” your franticness was evident. 

You swallowed your fear and opened the door, he moved past you immediately, obstructing your view of 2nd floor’s original expression. They exchanged a tight-lipped smile and she turned to stare you down with a her signature angry face. You tried to say something but she put her finger up to her lips, shushing you. She waited till he was practically at his own door to shove you harshly into your room before slamming the door. 

“Ouch, at least take me out to dinner f-”

“What were you doing”

“We were talking about the current situation 2nd. He was just asking me to back him up in a discussion if needed.” “Why were his cheeks red?”

“I don’t know…We didn’t do anything you’re implying,”

She let out a drawn out sigh. 

“Here’s the current situation 5; the stakes have just been upped, I need to know that I can trust you,” “Of course you can!” “Not when you’re sleeping with the enemy!” “I’M NOT SLEEPING WITH HIM! AND HE IS NOT AN ENEMY.”

“He’s one of the higher floors!”

“So am I! Technically anyway…”

“If anything were to happen…” “Hey! Nothing will happen, don’t worry too much. Besides, I’m always on your side 2nd, always.”

  . . .   

You observed from afar as 7th descended followed by 3rd hot on his trail. Your best guess is that they were having their morning smoke together. You sat at the pool with the others to try to brainstorm some content ideas. True to his prediction, 8th immediately suggested pro-wrestling, seeming more obnoxious than usual. Does she plan on being the ring girl? 3rd shot that idea down with minimal stutters, you figured that that was what him and 7th were talking about then. 4th suggested a dating show, which, come to think of it, probably not a bad idea. It would’ve certainly been interesting but there aren’t really many matches made in heaven here. She also suggested a talent show, which wasn’t actually a bad idea. 7th certainly seemed to like it, despite criticism from 6th. 7th offered to start the show off for you in that very moment with no hesitation and you truly admired this man’s sureness of himself. 

You gathered around him near the shared chute, waiting patiently for the unveiling of his talent. You were a little skeptical when he asked for a recorder, unsure if a primary school taught instrument was going to be impressive let alone entertaining. What you hadn’t expected though was for him to stick the thing up his nostril and play. You were in awe. The breath control, the focus, the speed, the experience he would need to execute something like this. It almost brought tears to your eyes. He played a familiar tune; flight of the bumblebee, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him to try to see everyone else’s reactions. A perfectly executed melody, one that not even you could play regularly. The moment he finished was followed by a second of shocked silence then heavy applause. 8th floor was laughing between claps and 6th floor seemed really touched, blowing him a few whistles. You yourself applauded rather slowly as you came to a very important conclusion, 

This is the silliest man alive. 

After the cheers died down, everyone was please to find out you had earned a whopping 20 hours to your time. Everyone was eager to decide on what they will present, but 7th stopped everyone to have a serious discussion. 

“How long do you want to stay for?” That is an excellent question. You’d really rather not overstay your ability to tolerate the conditions here. 4th protested the prematurity of this question but 2nd shut her down, saying we’re making money here to spend it out there. And you could guess that at least one person here was on a debt deadline, probably anyway. Obviously, the logical option was to ask 1st floor when the money would be enough for him. 

“I want to make…1 billion won.” Quite a number. 7th calculated it would take him around 2 and a half months, including the 2 weeks you’d already spent here. Not bad, you hoped. 

7th pulled out a piece of paper to jot down what equipment everyone  bought. You didn’t need to buy anything, what you would use was already available, taking a seat next to 8th in the pool. Everyone practically skipped away towards their rooms to get set up in privacy. You used this time to stretch a bit for the task to come.

  . . .   

The show commenced with 6th floor demolishing 10 roof tiles. 9, actually, as 2nd clearly showed everyone. She then proceeded to not only beat 6th’s record, but also top it with an extra 4 wooden boards. Their friendly competition earned 17 and 18 hours, respectively. 4th floor gave her all, showcasing a tap dancing-yodeling combo. You found it endearing, you’re sure it takes a lot more skill than it looks, but  the viewers did not. Awarding her with only 1 hour 15 minutes. At this revelation, she ran up to the big poolside slide and gave a slightly…provocative show to the cameras, earning her a humiliating extra 5 minutes. Then 3rd got up and you truly didn’t know what you’d expected from this absolute dork of a human being. Maybe you thought he had some super hidden, mysterious talent that was going to shock you all. Oh he shocked you alright. Without even bothering to put some music on, he got into the middle of the pool and began doing what you could only assume was an interpretive dance. Actually maybe it was hip-hop? Actually you really can’t tell. You don’t think you’d felt this much second hand embarrassment for anyone. Likely one of the more uncomfortable 30 seconds of your life, but you’ll live. His 18 minute reward was just salt in an open wound. 1st went up next, wowing everyone with an addictive mime balloon show that ended in confetti. 30 hours!

Witch! How did he do that?!? Anyway, your turn, big breaths. 

1st’s act was a big one to follow, but you found comfort in knowing there’s no way you could flop as bad as 3rd did. You grabbed the speaker and marched over to the built-in trampoline, kicking off your shoes. You turned your song on and waited for the cue. It was your thing back in college, trampolining. It was a small group and you had this huge crush on the instructor but you ended up falling  in love with it, the feeling of weightlessness. You bounced up and down with grace, reaching an adequate height for your tricks, everything from back flips to mid-air splits. The trampoline itself was quite small, making these acts risky, but only you knew that. Jump after jump, move after move, you felt like you were flying. It took your mind off things for a moment but you may have gotten carried away, realising that the finisher was coming up and you still had too much height. It was easy to bring things back down though, best not to fly too close to the sun. You ended your set with a bow to applause. 7th was smiling but 2nd was smiling even harder, cheesing from ear to ear. 24hours! Ha! You finally beat him at something. You walked your sweaty self back to your seat with the others. Just 8th left now. 7th gestured for her to come up. 

“I don't have to do my talent out here, do I?” she asked sweetly. 

“Not necessarily, but still...” 7th answered the seemingly innocent question. 

“Ok, well if I don't have to do it out here, I’d like to do it in my room. 7th would you like to sleep with me?”

A wave of shocked gasps washed over everyone at her boldness, 3rd floor clutching his pearls. Words got stuck in your throat, not that there was any possible thing you could come up with to say right now. 

“I don’t follow?” 

Yeah ok, he was definitely playing dumb. There it was again, the knot of jealousy tightening around your chest. For someone who could swear up and down that there was nothing going on between you and him, you sure do take alot to heart. The interaction in your room earlier had confirmed one thing; this was not just a silly crush. 

“I think you do, sex,” she grinned.

“8th floor, this is a talent show.” ‘8th floor’ wow, full government name and all.

“Isn’t a talent supposed to be something you’re good at? Well I’m really good at it.” She made a lewd movement with her hand. 

“I decline.” He looked uncomfortable, saying his part then immediately looking down to the paper in his hand, avoiding everyone’s gaze. The self-control he must have to turn down someone like that, a bit odd, not that you were complaining. 8th’s smile didn’t drop though, she casted her eyes to the group to pick her next victim, men and women alike. She made a point of stopping by 3rd floor, almost as if she’d pick him, but you weren’t stupid. You knew she was just being a bully. She ended her search by 6th floor’s side, who egged her on by giving a show of adjusting his pants. Maybe bleach would be a good purchase to help you wash your eyes of this image. She chuckled, taking his hand as they both strolled up to her room. 7th looked up from his notebook, likely being met with a variety of ‘What the hell just happened’ faces. His eyes stopped on you and for some reason you found yourself biting back a grin. Recalling the earlier intercatio, oh this man was flustered. He bit the inside oof his cheek and turned away. 

It was hours later and they were still going at it, but you were hungry and the food was locked in 8th’s room. The awkwardness from earlier had diluted a bit, nut 7th was still basically avoidinding everyones eyes, especially yours.

“Trampolining, huh?” 2nd nudged your side. “How come you don’t know how to stretch then?” “I’m just out of practise.” You chuckled. “1st floor, I gotta ask, how the hell?” “To that he just shrugged mischievously and mimed a ‘my lips are sealed’ motion. 

 Finally, after a whole day of waiting, you all observed the time change. 

“69 hours? Why 69? Why not 70-ohhh,” the words came out before you could stop them. It was all in good fun though, as laughter took over the moment for you.

. . .   

Another day, another group brainstorming session. Somehow, it felt like you’ve already ran out of ideas. 6th and 8th were cuddled up together as she admired her nails. 7th sat in his usual spot, which is just any spot higher than everyone else, 3rd and 4th on either of his sides, leaving 2nd, 1st and you on the other side. 7th was just congratulating you on the time gained and opened the discussion for new ‘events’, 1st raised his hand to suggest something. 

“Since we don’t have to climb the stairs anymore,” he hesitated. “Can we go back to the normal way of handling the waste?” Oh god, the waste. It had completely slipped your mind. 

“Yeah of course 1st, we just forgot-” 2nd assured him.

“No! No, its ok, it’s just the smell and…”

“Everyone can go back to handling their own bags.”

“Hmm I don’t like the sound of that,” 8th chimed in, her tone carrying a subtle melody to it. 

“What do you suggest we do then?” 2nd was getting irritated. 

“We could vote!” 4th suggested eagerly.

“Won’t a vote just be picking someone to single out?” you questioned. 

But ultimately, everyone decided on voting anyway. 

. . .   

It was later in the night when you’d taken your spot on the swingset, lost in thought. Voting, pssht, how stupid. Several people had approached you today, campaigning for their preferred candidate. You told them all the same thing though, 

“I’ll think about it.”

Someone came and sat on the swing next to you, you didn’t even have to turn around to guess who it was.  You two hadn’t really talked one-on-one since before the talent show. You cherished these little moments. 

“Crafty nose you got there 7.” You joked.

“It is a humble hobby of mine.” he sighed, someone isn’t in the mood for jokes.

“You here to sway my vote?”

“They got you too?”

“Yeah, 6th and 4th. Then 2nd too. I don’t think any of them liked my answer. I told them I’ll think about it.”

“So who are you actually going to cast your vote for?”

You looked over to him and licked your lips. 

“No-one.”

“What?” “I’m not voting for anyone, I’ll leave it blank.”

“...Why?” “Because…Because this whole thing is stupid 7th! I mean come on; if 3rd gets picked, like 6th and 8th want then that would be cruel. He’s been nothing but supportive and selfless this whole time, I don’t think he has a bad bone in his body. And yeah, maybe this is me letting my feelings get in the way. But also, he’s one of the smaller rooms. You’ve seen how quickly the waste took over 1st floor, this is just a repeat!”

He remained silent, observing your rant from behind his glasses as you paced back and forth.  

“ ‘Ok, well, lets just vote for 8th’ Ok, well, thats just as stupid! I’m not climbing 8 floors to use the bathroom, I think for sure 1 won’t either, meaning we’ll end up just keeping our own waste anyway! Besides, despite my distaste for her, this would obliterate both her and our privacy. Who’d willingly give out their card to others to use their room with no other way to get in?! Who knows what even the kindest person would do in there with all that money.”

He allowed you to continue, popping a cigarette and letting it hang between his lips. 

“The obvious answer here would be for everyone to just. deal. with. their. own. crap. But nooooo ‘I don’t like the sound of that’.” You mocked 8th previous statement. “ If she thinks she’s entitled to have someone else handle it for her, maybe she should be taught a lesson.”

Heavy pants escaped your lips as you planted back down onto the swing, shaking it harshly. You waited for him to say anything, to critique the absurdity of the situation, to calm you down, to tell you his piece of mind, anything. Instead he dropped his eyes to the ground as he continued to breathe in the cigarette. It irked you, this behaviour, made you feel insecure. Like you’d made a big deal out of a tiny issue. Worry got the best of you, so you spoke first. 

“Do you have anything to say?”

“You’re right.” 

“So how do we fix this?”

“We can’t.” 

“I think if we get everyone on board with a re-decision-“ you got up in desperation once more. 

“5…”

“We could maybe have everyone see-“

“5.”

“Hell we could even use supplies to make a public toil-“

“5!” He stood up to meet your franticness. 

“Wouldn’t that just make more sens-“

“I’m voting for third.”

“ I mean c'mon-…..what did you say?”

Surely not. Surely 7th did not just say he was voting for the man that would consider him a trustworthy friend and confidant. Surely you heard wrong. 

He fixed his glasses and ran a hand through his hair, the other hand still housing a half burnt cigarette. You stared in an absolute loss for words at him, though he seemed to be avoiding your eyes, clearly interested by the playset on the opposite side. 

“I have to…it’s for the better.”

“Can you stop speaking in riddles?” You all but yelled. That prompted him to look back at you, a very angry expression on his face. He got up suddenly to match your position, and though it all caught you off guard- the sudden change in demeanor- you held ground. He was, once again, inches away from your face. Breath hot and heavy on your cheek. 

“Don’t you see what this is?” He motioned to the rooms, “This is not a hierarchy, this is a food chain. And she’s the only one on top! She controls the food, therefore she controls us. We have to play by her rules. If we piss her off, get on her bad side and she realises she can use this to get what she wants, then there’s nothing any of us could do to stop it! Not you, not 1st, not me.” 

His voice was still low but anger had very clearly seeped more into his words as he spoke, slowly losing his usual cool composure. His face was red with annoyance at you for not seeing the full picture, not having foresight. He tried to take heavy, controlled breaths but you doubt years of smoking would give him way to do that. You stared blankly. 

“If this is how you think, 7th, then she’s already got you wrapped around her little finger. Playing by her rules only gives her more power. More confidence to do whatever she pleases. If we never stand up to her, nothing ever changes. We’ll be stuck in an endless cycle of guessing then second guessing to make sure she gets her way. What for? Cause you’re scared of her? Sorry 7 but I’m not a coward and I’ve got the scars to prove it. In fact, the time to strike would be now, to show her that no, she doesn’t just get what she wants just because she’s on top. And if you’re so worried about her feelings, why not volunteer to take her place?” You’d managed to keep a pretty level voice all throughout, hoping that the calmness he usually offered you would talk some sense into him. 

“I can’t do that, the higher floors made up their mind and they think 3rd.”

“The higher floors huh?” You pushed your tongue to your cheek. “Why 3rd anyway, was it the talent show?”

He sighed, “He gave an awful performance, landing him in last place so yeah.”

“So if I had been last, you would've voted for me?” Betrayal painted your features. 

He hesitated, picking out his next words carefully. “You gave a lovely performance so you wouldn’t’ve-”

“Answer the question.” Actually you didn’t need an answer, you already knew. 

“I’m sorry.” Genuine remorse flooded his eyes. 

“And what? 8 gets immunity cause she pimped herself out? Cause she gave a show? You and I both know it had nothing to do with talent. I bet you I could’ve earned us weeks had you an I slept together. In fact, I bet they would’ve loved it even more than that nasty pair. At least 3rd tried to do something decent, like a real man.”

This caught him entirely off guard, the insinuation of you and him sent blush down his neck, but both of you were far too angry for him to think about the implications of your words. 

He stared at you with sealed lips, offering himself no defence or retaliation, and offering you no wiggle room to sway his thoughts. This bothered you, more than you could put into words. Anger that had started to rise ever since you started this exchange now threatening to spill over. Especially because the only reason that you had been able to develop a hobby like that was because of privilege, the little that you used to hold anyway. 

“I don’t know who you are 7th,” Every word now shot with heavy venom, “but I can tell you come from money. I didn’t, I had to earn my spot in society, fight tooth and nail to get where I wished to be. I once held a gram of your riches and thats when I was able to take time to work on myself. I know others who work paycheck to paycheck, their only goal is survival. No time for trivial things like hobbies and interests. I won’t punish 3rd floor for surviving.”

He only stared at you in slight defeat, unsure of what to say to that. He could only find another “I’m sorry” to give to you. Even he knew this was pathetic.

You were right, of course you were. But he was scared. He wanted to be as sure as you, as ready to risk it all, but he just couldn’t find that fury inside him. You tried to bite your lip to calm down, to ground yourself, but it wasn’t helping, you needed to get away from him, now. But not before you got one last word in. 

You grabbed the jacket you left hung on the swing and pushed past him to get to your room. 

He made no move to stop you.

. . .   

His woeful expression was still etched onto your brain as you slumped down on the wall opposite to the chute, the metal surface reflecting your face. Maybe you went a bit overboard, tore into him a little too much. You had a habit of losing your cool when it came to things like this, plus, this was just a show after all. No actual harm done, right? To be honest, you felt a little guilty. Sure, in retrospect, everything you said was right. But still. Maybe this was your heart talking, fearing his absence after you’d just started to get used to him. Whatever, I should get to bed. Perhaps tomorrow is a better day. 

You were up in his room, again. Only this time, he offered you a more fair fight; scrabble. Or, you thought it would be a more fair fight, until he started putting things Kakorrhaphiophobia. 

“Fear of failure,” he clarified.

“Gotya,” you giggled as you spelled out ‘photosynthesising’ on the board, usually this would be your winner. 

It wasn’t long before you two abandoned that too, cause you got to the point where you couldn't tell if he was using real words or just making stuff up.  

“It’s a drug!” He laughed.

“Yeah I know what Oxyphenbutazone is, 7, I’m a doctor!”

“Why are you so-”

“I’m done with this game.”He got up to try to come up with another way to keep you entertained, phone in hand as he searched the depths of his brain for another chill board game. You got up to stretch your legs a bit, eyes catching the papers hung up on the wall. They were filled with very mathematical drawings of the place, the floors, the chute etc. He didn’t really pay you any mind, likely forgetting the treasure you’re about to stumble upon. One of the papers hadn’t been stuck on the bottom, making it sway slightly as you approached it. You noticed something on the back, so you brainlessly grabbed the edge and it came off into your hand, having been stuck with a very flimsy piece of tape at the top. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was on the other side. 

You, a sketch of…you! It was done with a level of such skill and attention to detail that it knocked breath out of your lungs. You were laughing, looking off to the side in your boring white uniform with a subtle glow in your eyes. Curiosity got the best of you as you carefully picked the rest of the pages off of their spot, careful not to damage them. True to your prediction, your face was featured in almost all the papers, in progressively increasing detail, the more he got to know you. They were all different perspectives too. There was one of you having lunch, another what you could guess was you looking up at the time. The one that caught your eye the most though was a particular one of you playing chess. Despite being done in just pencil, you looked ethereal. 

You were so caught up in marveling, you hadn’t noticed him catching you in the act. You weren’t doing anything wrong but…His cheeks flushed a bit, words dying in his throat as he was unsure of what to say to save face in this situation. He probably looked like a total dork right now.

You looked up at him with a flustered expression, flattery washing over you. 

“You…drew these?” He only nodded. 

“7, this is insane! You’re so talented!” 

His eyes were fixed on your excited face. He waited for you to mock the fact that he’d taken you as his muse, but it never came. 

“Will you send one down please?”

“Sure” he chuckled.

“Promise?”

He paused for a moment, gaze piercing yours with intensity. “Promise.”

  . . .   

The blank paper stared at you as you contemplated your next move, unsure of what to put down, thanks to your fight with 7th last night. You’d both been avoiding each other today, not that you were previously cuddled up or anything, but its obvious he’s avoiding your eyes. Truth be told, you don’t know what you could even say to him had he given you the chance, perhaps its better this way. They were waiting on you now to start the voting process. You looked at the paper again and went with your original decision. 

Maybe you weren’t mature enough for things like this, but the fact that no one else thought it ridiculous to slide down to cast the vote made you go crazy. Seeing 7th’s super serious face as one by one you guys slid down to put the paper into the box had you second guessing yourself. Surely someone else found this whole situation hilarious, no? You went in order of rooms, starting from 1st floor and moving up. When your turn rolled around, you couldn’t stop giggling as you went down, being met with a helping hand at the bottom. Weird, he was also smiling kinda? Whats the reason for this? You got up, fixed your clothes and casted your vote. Since his turn was coming up soon, you took over his spot with the box. He slid on down with a straight face and you really couldn’t  hold back a small laugh, grown ass man sliding to vote. When all was done, you headed over to a blank wall to count the votes. 

3rd floor.

3rd floor. 

8th floor. 

8th floor. 

8th floor. 

3rd floor.

“Its blank.” 7th sighed. He didn’t have to look your way for you to be able to pick up on the slight disappointment in his voice. It wasn’t difficult for anyone to figure out who this vote belonged to. He picked the final paper up with a heavy hand. 

“8th floor.” He pursed his lips slightly, shutting his eyes in defeat as the words left his mouth. 6th floor got up in anger, not believing the result. She’s got him so whipped it’s concerning. 8th floor let out an uncomfortable laugh as she clutched her hands awkwardly to her chest. She even had everyone clap for her ‘win’, likely trying to make the best out of the unexpected situation.  

You won’t hide that you took pleasure in her awkward response, shocked that someone like her could be affected by something like this. 

It seemed your blank decision had upset all parties. 7th was likely already anticipating it, so he wasn’t surprised when he opened that paper. 2nd, however, shot you a look after everyone got up to take the rest of the day off. This whole voting/campaigning event had served as content, earning you a substantial amount of time. You wondered how much your argument with 7th was worth. 

Later in the day, you’d been finding unconventional ways to entertain yourself  due to the laack of someone else that  would keep you company. You hoped things will die down and go back to normal in a day or two. Some arguing caught your attention and you left the space to investigate, only catching 8th floor storm off to her room. You bumped into 7th and by then you’d gotten a gist of what happened. 

“Just give her time to cool off,” you tried to keep the situation cool. 

“If only that were the case,” 7th shot you a half-lidded, tired look and kept up after 8th floor. 

  . . .   

You stood out in front of your door in the late hours, observing the time count down, unable to shake the uneasy feeling in your bones. It seemed that not a single person here was pleased with your decision. It made sense to you, though, so why does it matter? 7th’s made sense to himself. Plus you were against the whole system, and if you did vote, it would’ve been for 8th, so the outcome wouldn’t’ve changed. You were picking at the skin of your nails when you heard someone leave their room above, pondering if you should retreat to yours or just not say anything. Too late though, as the person had already made their way past you, you didn’t bother to check who it was, the smell giving him away. He was halfway down the stairs by your room when his steps seized. 

“You’re a hypocrite, you know?” He said dryly. “You said you ‘weren’t a pacifist’ yet chose to stay neutral. You’re not as high and mighty as you think.” 

“I never said I’d vote for 8, I did what I thought right.” He chuckled sourly as he began to descend once again. 

“Going to get another pack?” you said. 

“The worst is yet to come.”

How ominous. 

  . . .   

It was past midnight when the chute finally groaned open with the meals, it worried you that 8th had taken this long to send them down for a reason. Usually, you’d be asleep, but hunger ate away at your insides keeping you up. You crouched in front of the metal box only for your brain to lag at the sight in front of you. 

The meal boxes, empty. 

This psycho took the effort and time to rid every single container of its contents, wiping them down to remove any chance for leftover nutrition. This was not retaliation, nor anger. This was a statement, a well spelled out punishment. This is exactly what 7th feared, though there was not a gram of regret for your decision. You can't say you didn’t see this coming. 

Okay you little brat, we’ll see how it goes.