TerrorFest 2018 - Zero Escape

Cyrus Winter

Cyrus chuckled awkwardly at the question. "Believe it or not, it's been pretty hellish. Not in the same way as the rest of you, I'm sure, but pretty hellish."

He sounded much more chatty now because of the sheer amount of talking he'd needed to do in the last several months, though he clearly wasn't too comfortable doing it. "Shall we trade stories inside? I'm sure you have lots to tell yourself." He said to her as gestured for them to walk in.

Trauma Therapy and Treatment Center

- Remy -

Remy could almost physically feel herself shrink back when she heard Cyrus blunt reference.

She looked at Cyrus and smiled. A little while ago, she would’ve turned on her heel and walked out. Now, she gestured invitingly towards the door and lead them inside.

“I’m sorry, Cyrus,” she said. “I’m not ready to talk about what happened after…  with anyone who was actually there. I’m still working through it.” Her voice was calm, but she felt her heart beating in her chest, dread creeping up on her.

They entered a cafeteria.

“But I’m still curious to hear about your work.”

Jacke - A beach somewhere...

Jacke sat on the sand, the sun glaring down on the beach-goers. However, his thoughts were not on the good weather, but rather on the messages he had received on his phone.

He hadn't thought much about the events surrounding the Escape Room in the passing months, electing instead to distract himself by doing his usual thing of travelling and exploring difference places. But when his friend shared with him a news article about an up-and-coming artist's exhibition, he was forced to confront those memories once again.

The memory of a man's lifeless eyes staring back at him, blood soaking both Jacke and the body flashed behind his eyes, causing him to wince. That Join, and others, had been killed for some man's sick sense of justice... he shuddered as the visage of The Goat Man appeared in his mind.

He looked to his phone again, bringing up another news article. A trauma therapy and treatment centre had been opened in the months since that day, with a name attached to it that Jacke recognised. Maybe... it would be a good idea to visit... once he was back in the area.

- Luna -

"I was never under the illusion that I had cornered the market on being stubborn." Luna responded, rolling her eyes in the process. "While I'm not a big fan of accepting charity, my stomach, at least, thanks you. Instant noodles twice a day for a month is definitely not healthy."

She turned her attention back to the pieces on the wall for a moment, admiring the work of another artist being featured. To think that her own works had managed to get into such an event was still a little mind-boggling to her. Hopefully, it would lead to some sales though.

Speaking of which...

"I'm looking to sell all of them." She said, giving Pierce (and his checkbook) a long look. "But I don't think I'll let more than two of them go to the same buyer, and I won't accept outrageous offers."

"I'm well aware of what my work is worth." She narrowed her eyes at Pierce. "And I don't trust you, cue ball."

- Pierce -

"You may not have cornered the market, but it's an impressive stock nonetheless." Pierce tore a check from his checkbook and handed it to her, the price block conspicuously blank. "Fortunately, I do trust you. Do what you think is fair."

She couldn't refuse that much, at least. He was playing by her rules.

"Now, why don't you recommend the two I'm taking?" he asked, as good an invitation as any for her to walk with him.

It was good to see some of the weight of their experience lifted from her shoulders as she pointed out some of her work and discussed it. If the center he'd set up had done that much, then it was well worth the effort.

Once they'd decided on two, Luna promised to package and send them over to his office. Pierce nodded, glancing around the dwindling crowd as the showing drew to its close, and cleared his throat.

"Since you seem all right with me paying for your meals," he said, holding her gaze, "how about... a proper dinner?"

- Luna -

Luna gave the check an appraising glance before accepting it and sliding it into the pocket of her coat. "Let's see which two you pick, and I'll fill in the amount afterwards. At the moment, they're all still available. So, you have your choice of the lot."

She smirked as they made their way down the hall. "If you're asking my opinion, this one here might have some appeal." Luna gestured to one of the pieces, featuring a young boy with a very expensive looking (and clearly too big for him) coat that was draped over his shoulders.

They continued to chat as she showed him some of her other works to choose from, and the experience wasn't terrible. Luna had been concerned that meeting any of the others after that night might be too much (for any of them), but apparently, she'd come further than she'd expected in the last couple months.

She did pause when Pierce asked her about dinner though. "I knew it had to be you." Luna clung to the first part of his question, unable to answer the rest right away. She wasn't seriously angry with him, but "dinner" could mean "more", and she wasn't sure that she was ready for that right now, especially with someone else that had been there for the worst night of her life. Still, it didn't have to mean anything besides "dinner", and if it did, she could deal with that later.

"What do you have in mind? The whole instant noodle thing wasn't a joke. So, I won't turn away a free meal."

- Pierce -

Pierce found himself smiling at Luna's selection of pieces for him. The young boy with the expensive, oversized coat reminded him of himself at a young age, trying on his father's clothes to emulate him. He'd known even back then that he wanted to be someone striking and powerful. Someone you had to take notice of.

Things hadn't turned out the way he'd expected back then, or even when he was older and wiser. But that was life. The important thing was to find the good in the hand you were dealt.

God, when did he become some dewy-eyed self-help coach? He smiled wryly to himself. So maybe it wasn't just his corporate image that had changed.

Luna hadn't, though. Still cautious about his offers, though she did agree, at least... even if she managed to make it sound as mercenary as possible.

"If all you want is a free meal, I could just write you another check," he said, with just a touch of his old bite. He paused and sighed, weighing his words carefully.

"Look, I understand," he said softly. "When... my wife drowned, I didn't want to open up to anyone, especially anyone who knew the truth and might try to bring those memories and feelings to the surface. But it doesn't help. Believe me."

He glanced down at the portrait in his hands, fingers tracing the simple frame.

"If you want to walk out of the picture, so to speak," he said, attempting a smile at his words, "I will. But just for tonight... will you let your guard down? Even if this is the last time we meet, I want to make it special. You may not believe this now, maybe ever, but you helped me to do more than just survive back then. I needed that. I needed you to knock some sense back into me and get my life back on track." The way she used to. "So let me return the favor in my own way, at least this once."

He offered his arm to her, waiting. Hoping. For the first time in a long time, he could feel that again.

- Morgan -

Morgan sat in a dark dimly lit room that the only light source were a 5 candles that all glowed a strange red color from some sort of chemical.  In the center was a strange symbol, that was an exact replica of the same symbol in a opened tome labeled 'Mysterious Occult Signs".  Various other torn and ravaged books laid around the room, as Morgan tossed the business card he got from Yu Zi in the center of the circle, followed by the music of his latest album playing from an old stereo in the background.

"I can't believe I'm doing this..."  Morgan muttered to himself as he laid each of the candles down on the symbol with symbol beginning to catch fire and latch onto the business card as it glowed a dark purple flame.

After I got out of that damned mansion, my popularity skyrocketed....  Cyrus' friends may of set the reason to an 'electrical' problem... or whatever.  But all his followers 'knew' that it was actually the vengeful spirits he had talked about earlier.  His popularity skyrocketed, he could of sold merchandise, lived happily in his old ways... but honestly the attention only pissed him off more.  He just wanted to be alone and fix this gnawing feeling in his mind.

"Now then, spirits that may be lurking from the blood soaked mansion who have unfinished business. Head. My. Call!  I have opened the gate to the astral realm so that you may commune!"  Morgan shouted out loud, as he pulled out a piece of wood that had come from the mansion and tossed it into the growing purple flame, causing the flame to roar even higher.

"Yu Zi, Kenny, Join, even the goat!  I don't care anymore, just answer me!" Morgan shouted in a loud pitch, as he stared into the flames waiting for a voice to call out to him.  A few seconds went by, then minutes, as the flame began to slowly die down again.

"Another failure?  Well, guess it's time to try something else."  Morgan painfully muttered, holding his hands to his face, as he stomped out the embers that remained of the flame.  He walked back over to the light switch to flick on the light when he noticed a shadow out of the corner of his eyes.

"Hello?  Is someone there?"  Morgan hopefully called out to the shadow, as he slowly turned around.....

Cyrus Winter

Cyrus shrugged at Remy's reaction. "Understandable. I'll pay for the food since this might take a while" he replied. He'd seen this with many of the new recruits while he was still in the army, never a fun sight.

"You won't believe the time I've had the last few months, I tell 'ya..." he continued as he lead Remy in. He fully intended to not leave any details out, confidentiality be damned. Not like she didn't already know half that information anyway, might as well let her in on the behind-the-scenes too.

- Morgan -

Silence met Morgan’s question. He took a step toward the shadow he thought he saw when suddenly his foot was yanked forward. He fell, crashing to the ground and smacking his head against the wood. His head swam, and his consciousness seemed to waver.

Then, something stood over him, horns sprouting from its head and yellow eyes boring into his. A goat... No, it was him. It was no mask that he wore this time. The fur, the inhuman square eyes, the hateful bleating falling from its mouth... they were real.

An oppressive force crushed down on his body. He felt like he was being pushed by an overpowering force, pushed through the floor, the ground, and into something far below. Far worse. Goatman had no words for him, but his eyes seemed to speak loudly enough. I’m taking you with me.

Morgan tried to squirm, but he was powerless. Then, the weight was gone. Morgan thought he might soar right off the ground for how light he suddenly felt. He looked around, to weak to stand, and saw someone standing between him and the Goatman, their arms outstretched as if to ward him off.

...Kenny?

“You don’t belong here,” Kenny said to the Goatman. “Hell is the only place for you anymore.”

The Goatman bleated loudly and backed away, still watching them with hatred blazing in his eyes.

“Yu zi says hi,” Kenny murmured, glancing at Morgan over his shoulder. “He says he can’t let you see him till he’s worked off all his sin. And he has a lot to work off.”

Kenny sighed. “He’s not the only one.”

He glanced meaningfully at Morgan. Which of the two of them did he mean? Or did he mean both?

With a nod, Kenny walked toward the Goatman, who began to go let out guttural bellows of fury and charged at Morgan. But Kenny caught him by the horns and dragged him away, both of them fading as they backed into the shadows.

Morgan’s head sank back onto the floor. He wasn’t sure how long he laid there until he found the strength to get up. When he did, he flicked on the lights and looked around.

Nothing out of the ordinary. No definite proof. So had he imagined it, or was it real?

And if it was... what did that mean for him?

- Luna -

"It was a joke." Luna raised an eyebrow at Pierce's response. "Although apparently a tasteless one. I didn't want your money then, and I didn't agree to dinner with you because I'm interested in it now."

She sighed, crossing her arms and gripping her elbows. "Look. You've had time to get that perspective. Years even."

"And I'm not trying to cheapen what you've been through because you were in that hell with me."

"But I don't have that perspective yet." She considered his arm for a moment. Mere footsteps lay between them. All she had to do was cross that small space.

Luna took a deep breath and made those few steps, linking her arm with his. "For now, let's just call it dinner between friends."

"I'm not telling you to get lost or anything. Just give me some time to come to terms with the way this has all shaped my life."

Taking another breath, she allowed herself to lean against him. "Besides, you've still not told me what we're eating. I have to judge a guy's taste in food before he's even given a consideration."

- Pierce -

Pierce frowned and nodded. It was understandable that Luna would feel that way, and he knew needing the space to adjust was important.

But despite that, she still linked her arm in his.

"I can accept that," he said gently as she leaned against him and they headed out into the night.

Her comment about judging his taste brought a smile to his lips, and the spell of heaviness seemed to be lifted for the moment.

"I was thinking about a Brazilian steakhouse. It's got a top floor view of the city." She shivered a bit in the night air, and he draped his suit jacket over her shoulders once more. "I think you'll like it."

- Morgan -

"Finally, I did it!"  Morgan cackled in a maddening laugh, as he placed his shaking arms on the ground in front of him as he slowly pushed himself off the ground.  Only embers laid in front of him now, as the smell of ash, burnt paper, and candles permeated his nostrils.

Morgan began to tried to move his left leg when he noticed he couldn't move his legs at all, they were shaking... Like he had just witnessed something absolutely horrible.  Morgan tried sitting up and moving the legs with his hands, pulled them but not matter what he did the shaking wouldn't stop.

"What the hell is this?  Move you dammed... dammed..."  Morgan shouted at first, as his voice slowly lowered into a mutter.  He clutched his torso and wrapped his arms around him as a protective blanket, as he glanced around the room like some monster was lurking around waiting to grab him.

That's right... The goat was dammed to hell.  And Yu Zi... he was paying for his sins....  Compared to him and his phony medium ways Yu Zi was a saint... so. so. What exactly was waiting for him in the afterlife once he died.

"No!  I won't let him drag me down to hell!"  Morgan shouted, as he balled his hand into a fist and bolted out of the room and a panic.   He slammed the door to the room behind him, as he locked it, his breathe ragged like he had just escaped from a serial killer.

"I need.  I need."  Morgan continued to mutter as he slowly walked over to his cell phone on the table, as he carefully grabbed it.  It was covered in messages of his 'followers' all asking him to do a seance for them...

"No... this is what got me almost killed in the first place."  Morgan muttered, as he began typing on a message board that all of his followers could see for his recent 'updates'.

I'm a fake, there's no such thing as spirits!

and... send.

An eerie silence filled the room until the sound of a bunch of notifications from his phone erupted in a fury of comments yelling at Morgan, or saying how they knew it all along and that he should 'go to hell'

"Whatever."  Morgan muttered, as he walked towards the door out of his house.  He slowly opened it, walking out of the prison he had been in for so long.

"Maybe I'll try going to school again, I think I can handle not dropping out this time.  I think I might be good as an investigator.... though I might run into Alecia if I do that."  Morgan chuckled.

- Alecia -

The gavel cracked down on the bench, and the court became alive with chatter as the defendant rushed into the embrace of his family. Alecia watched them from atop the judge's bench, keeping her expression professionally neutral, though inside she was smiling.

It hadn't been easy stepping back into the courtroom after all that had happened, but it wasn't something she could avoid. Something had to change, though. Staying a prosecuting attorney no longer had its appeal, but law was a part of her. So she decided to become a judge instead. No longer were cases about winning or losing, but about seeing justice done, impartial and blind.

And justice had been met here today. She was sure of that.

With a last, lingering look at the defendant - no, the free man and his family - Alecia swept from the bench and back toward her offices.

"You know, I remember when I used to watch you on the other side of the room."

Alecia paused and turned to face her bailiff, Damien. He wore a warm smile on his handsome face, and his eyes were soft as he studied her.

"Is that right?" she said, folding her arms and raising her eyebrows.

He nodded and glanced back toward the courtroom. "I remember thinking you looked like you were born to be a prosecutor. I couldn't imagine anyone else wearing the role better. That's still true to some extent - none of the new prosecutors hold a candle to you."

Alecia tried to smile politely, but he couldn't know that his words, however well-intentioned, touched a wound that still wasn't fully healed.

"But now..." He looks back at me and grins. "I think this side of the court suits you even more, if possible."

"Well, I know it's not the robes," Alecia said, laughing. "Not the most flattering ensemble."

"You make them work," Damien said, eyes twinkling.

"Thanks." Alecia offered him a smile before turning back toward her office.

"Actually..." He took a step forward. "I was thinking, maybe we could grab a coffee. Or, maybe a celebratory dinner for your new position?"

Alecia paused, considering the idea. After a moment, she nodded. "Yeah. That sounds nice."

Despite being bold enough to ask, he seemed surprised by the outcome, judging by the sudden flush of his stubbled cheeks. "Really? Great. Then..."

She hated to curb his enthusiasm, but she shook her head. "Not tonight though. I have something I need to do. But how about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," he repeated, running a hand over his sandy hair. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll hold you to it."

"Please do." Alecia waved goodnight, smiling at the lingering blush on his face, and headed inside her office to get ready to leave.

The warm feeling from their encounter faded a bit as she picked up her keys, thinking of the drive ahead of her. But it had to be done.

She needed to see for herself.

--------------------------------------------------

The October wind carried an unseasonable chill as it swept over the barren landscape. Alecia ignored the signs warning away trespassers due to benzene contamination and slowly approached the ruinous remains of what was once Escape Mansion. She paused a safe distance away, surveying the scene.

In some ways, it felt so recent. And in other ways, it felt like a lifetime ago. One year... how things had changed since then.

A crunching some yards back made her stiffen. She glanced over her shoulder and gave a start at the sight of Pierce, who approached until he stood next to her. They both gazed at the wreckage for a few moments before either spoke.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Pierce said. "I guess congratulations are in order, Judge Daniels."

She expected that comment to have all of Pierce's usual bite, especially considering how they'd left things, but he seemed genuine in his words.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Same to you. Business has been better than ever, I hear."

He nodded, then hesitated. "How are you?"

She breathed heavily. A loaded question... but an unexpectedly caring one. "I'm coping. Healing. Trying to make something better out of my life."

"Good." He turned to look at her. "If you ever need a little extra help, though, my center is always open and free to... our group."

"Thanks," she murmured. Glancing at him, she couldn't help but think of Goatman and his words. She'd been quick to judge about Pierce as much as anyone. Despite the hardened exterior he'd put on, he was a good man at his core, better than she'd been.

They made some brief small talk on what had happened since they'd last parted and how the others were managing, but for the most part, they just stood in companionable silence.

"I won't be coming back here," he said at last. "I just needed to see it with my own eyes this once. Just to settle it in my mind. What about you?"

She sighed and folded her arms. "As many times as I have to to make sure I've learned my lesson."

"I wouldn't worry," Pierce said, turning and walking away. "You're a fast learner."

He raised a hand in farewell and headed back to his car. Alecia watched him with a smile. Speaking of  fast learners.

Alecia waited till she heard his car disappear, then gave one last look at the ruins where she’d had the worst experience of her life. In a way, the old Alecia had died that night. Maybe it was for the best. Sometimes what is meant for evil can become a force of good.

Holding to that belief, she turned her back on Escape Mansion, and her old life, for the last time and headed back toward her new life.