11:54 PM — ??? — Shirley's POV
The screaming wouldn't stop. Voices echoed from every direction.
Men shouting. Women crying. Chains rattling. Metal bars shaking.
Hundreds of prisoners trapped inside the darkness.
And for the first time since arriving aboard the Ascension Gala…
Shirley genuinely felt afraid.
For the first time since Choreees, Shirley was terrified.
The endless screaming echoing throughout the massive chamber made sure of that.
Every few seconds another voice cried for help.
Another prisoner demanded answers.
Another person broke down sobbing.
The noise never stopped.
It bounced endlessly between the rows of cells until it became impossible to tell where any single voice was coming from.
Shirley shifted his neck again, trying to find a comfortable position against the wall.
The collar immediately tightened.
The chain rattled.
No matter how much he adjusted, the restraints refused to give him even an inch.
Beside him, the woman next to him had gone silent.
Almost completely.
The only sound she made now were occasional whimpers.
Small, weak, defeated.
Shirley hated hearing them.
His eyes wandered upward.
And that's when he noticed something strange.
"…Huh?"
There was no ceiling above his cell.
The bars stopped several feet overhead and simply… ended.
Beyond them stretched the vast interior of the plane itself, disappearing into darkness far above.
Shirley's eyes narrowed.
No roof, no covering.
"If I could get out of these chains…" he thought.
"…I could climb out."
His gaze drifted back toward the woman.
She sat slumped against the wall, head lowered.
Completely hopeless.
"Hey."
No response.
"Hey."
Slowly, she looked up.
Even through the darkness, Shirley could see it.
The emptiness in her eyes.
The look of someone who had already given up.
"…What?" she muttered.
"You said you're a streamer, right?"
The woman stared at him.
"Are you seriously trying to make conversation right now?"
"Just answer the question."
She groaned. Then sighed.
"EBS160."
A pause.
"Most people just call me EBS."
Shirley nodded.
"I'm Shirley."
"…Shirley?"
She blinked.
"That's a weird name."
"I get that a lot."
"I've literally never met anyone with a name like that."
"You'd be surprised by the things you haven't seen."
A grin appeared on Shirley's face despite everything.
"I'm still waiting for something that can blow my mind."
Then he tilted his head.
"Say, you got any butter?"
EBS stared.
"What?"
"Or lotion."
"…What?"
"Oil works too."
She looked genuinely offended now.
"Are you out of your damn mind?"
"We're chained to a wall in some underground prison and you're asking me for skincare products?!"
Shirley shrugged.
"Do you have any?"
"NO!"
Then she lowered her voice.
"Besides, how would I even give it to you?"
"Fair point."
EBS groaned and twisted away from him in frustration.
Something slipped from beneath her dress. A small tube rolled across the floor.
Both of them froze.
The tube rolled once, then again. Then stopped. Right beside Shirley.
EBS gasped.
Shirley looked down.
Then looked at her.
Then back at the tube.
"…You carry oil around with you?"
EBS immediately pointed at him.
"SHUT UP!"
A pause.
Then, much quieter, "It helps my skin look glossy."
Another pause.
"My viewers like it."
Another pause.
"It's natural and healthy too."
Shirley stared.
"…Sure."
Then he grinned.
"This is perfect."
"HEY!"
Stretching as far as the chains allowed, Shirley extended his foot.
Barely. Just barely. His shoe hooked the tube.
Slowly, painstakingly, he dragged it closer.
A few more inches, then a few more. Finally, it reached him. EBS watched in disbelief.
"That's mine!"
Shirley ignored her completely.
He unscrewed the cap.
Then dumped the oil onto his neck, his jaw, his face, the inside rim of the leather collar.
The liquid dripped down his skin.
Cold, sticky. Painfully uncomfortable.
But exactly what he needed.
"If I use Strength Presence…"
His eyes locked onto the collar.
"…I'll rip my own head off."
He took a deep breath.
"This is my best shot."
Then he began forcing his head through.
The collar dug into his jaw first, then his cheeks, then his nose. The leather scraped skin away as he pushed harder. And harder. And harder.
Blood appeared, the pressure became unbearable.
Shirley's vision blurred.
The collar squeezed his skull so tightly it felt like it might crack.
A horrible popping sound echoed from his neck.
EBS recoiled.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Shirley didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Every ounce of focus was dedicated to forcing himself forward.
The collar caught on his forehead, stopped him completely. For a moment, he thought he'd failed. Then Shirley roared, and pulled. The pressure exploded across his skull. A sickening crack echoed through the cell. Pain shot through his entire body.
Then suddenly, his head burst free.
Shirley's head immediately went limp gasping for air.
Blood mixed with oil dripped down his face.
Raw scratches covered his skin.
His neck looked mangled.
For several seconds he couldn't even move.
He simply lay there breathing.
Across the darkness, EBS stared at him in absolute disbelief.
Her mouth hung open.
"…You actually did it."
Shirley slowly lifted his head.
A painful grin spread across his face.
"Told you."
He wiped blood from his eye.
"I'm a genius."
Sometime After 2:00 AM — ??? — Tucker's POV
Tucker couldn't tell if he was awake.
Or dreaming.
Or dead.
Time had stopped meaning anything.
His body felt distant, as though it belonged to someone else entirely.
His vision was a smear of colors and shadows. Shapes drifted through the darkness, appearing and disappearing before he could recognize them. His ears rang constantly, a high-pitched whine that drowned out everything else.
Yet somehow…
He felt happy.
Or maybe not happy.
Peaceful. Detached.
Like nothing mattered anymore.
Laughter echoed around him.
People talking, glasses clinking, music playing somewhere far away.
He was lying on something soft.
A couch?
A bed?
The floor?
He couldn't tell.
Then suddenly, He was walking.
The transition happened instantly.
One moment he was lying down.
The next he was moving through a hallway.
Then, he was sitting somewhere. Then, writing something. Then, laughing. Then, vomiting.
The moments came and went without warning.
Like pages being ripped from a book.
Tucker couldn't tell which memories were real and which weren't anymore.
He couldn't even remember what he had been trying to do before all of this happened.
Who was he looking for?
Someone important.
Someone…
Someone…
His thoughts slipped away before he could finish them.
Then everything changed.
His eyes snapped open. Water flooded into his mouth, his lungs screamed.
"What—?!"
Instinct took over immediately.
He jerked upward. Pain exploded through his head.
His head slammed into something hard. The impact sent stars across his vision.
More water rushed into his nose. Into his mouth, into his lungs.
He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think.
All he knew was that he was drowning.
Tucker thrashed wildly.
His arms felt heavy, his body wouldn't listen.
Something held him down, something was forcing his head beneath the water.
Panic consumed him. His vision darkened His chest burned.
Then he kicked. His foot connected with something solid.
A grunt.
Suddenly the pressure vanished.
Tucker erupted upward, coughing violently as he collapsed against a sink.
Water poured from his mouth. He sucked in desperate breaths. Air had never felt so good.
For several seconds he could only cough and gasp.
Then his vision finally focused.
A mirror, a sink, the plane's bathroom.
And behind him, August.
The grin was gone. He stood silently behind Tucker, fists clenched at his sides.
Tucker's stomach dropped.
August moved first, a hand seized the back of Tucker's head.
Then, his face smashed into the mirror. Glass exploded everywhere.
Pain erupted across Tucker's cheek as shards sliced through skin.
Blood immediately began running down his face.
Before Tucker could react, August yanked him backward.
"You're awake sooner than expected," August said coldly.
Gone was the charming host. Gone was the entertainer. This voice felt completely different.
Tucker shoved off the sink with all his strength.
The sudden force caught August off guard.
The man stumbled backward and slammed into the wall.
For half a second, Tucker was free. He darted, but a hand wrapped around Tucker's throat.
His back slammed into the wall hard enough to shake the room.
The air vanished from his lungs.
"Wha—"
Tucker clawed desperately at the hand choking him.
"You—!"
Nothing came out properly.
His vision blurred.
His feet kicked uselessly.
Desperate, panicked.
Then his knee connected with August's ribs, August's grip loosened.
Just enough.
Tucker dropped to the floor. Air rushed back into his lungs. He didn't waste a second.
Run.
That was all that mattered.
Run.
Tucker lunged for the bathroom door. His fingers wrapped around the handle. He pulled but it was locked
"No no no no—"
His hands scrambled desperately. He couldn't get it open. Couldn't find the lock, he couldn't think.
Behind him, footsteps. Then an arm wrapped around his neck. He was put in a chokehold.
Tucker's body jerked violently. His airway closed again.
August dragged him backward across the floor.
Tucker fought desperately.
But his limbs still felt weak.
August leaned closer. His voice was barely above a whisper.
"You're a Riley."
Tucker froze.
"What…?"
"Which means you had to disappear."
His grip tightened.
"Your friend will be sold."
The words felt unreal.
Like a nightmare.
"A slave."
Tucker's eyes widened.
"And honestly?" August continued quietly. "I hate doing this myself."
A chuckle escaped him.
"But the paycheck makes it worthwhile."
Tucker's heart nearly stopped.
Shirley.
Shirley was here.
Somewhere.
And August was talking about selling him like property.
Panic exploded through Tucker.
His hand scrambled desperately across his side.
Searching, searching.
Then, his cane, he had found it.
Without thinking, Tucker yanked it free and swung backward.
The cane smashed directly into August's thigh.
A sharp grunt escaped him, his grip released instantly. Tucker tore free.
He lunged toward the bathroom door again. His heart pounded so violently it hurt.
"I have to get out."
The thought repeated endlessly.
"I have to find Shirley."
His hand reached for the handle, and the door opened.
Hope surged through him, then died immediately. A man stood in the doorway, waiting and blocking the exit. The stranger smiled, then punched him.
The blow landed before Tucker could react.
Pain exploded through his jaw.
The world spun.
Darkness swallowed everything.
And Tucker remembered nothing else.