Page 76 of Hell’s Weapon

One team has actually won, and Wyatt was insufferable at not coming in first place.

One more murder has occurred.

And tensions are running high amongst the rest of the competitors as files keep going missing and no one can work out if it's a thief or if their own team members are playing them. Rio arrived at lunch today with a black eye, to add to Wyatt’s split lip from yesterday, from an altercation with an opposing team. Fights are breaking out frequently.

Our team now has possession of at least twenty of the character profiles, Wyatt and I managing to lift them from their original owners. It turns out there were many more variations than we originally thought.

The guards are playing a good game, I will give them that. There are multiple ways in which to win the game, and about twice as many ways in which to lose. We have a pretty solid route to follow but we’re hesitating on going after a murder weapon until we are one hundred percent certain. None of us fancy getting ourselves blown up if we choose wrong.

But right now, I need to concentrate on the video footage I’m currently analysing. Whilst there was once again no evidence left on the latest murder victim, I have a theory I’m testing.

The lights in the residential halls are censored, they only illuminate when they detect movement and switch off after a minute of stillness. And there is CCTV which picks up those lights from the courtyard. Seeing as most of the killings seem to now be taking place at night, I am piecing together the timings of the lights to see if I can track the murderer’s movements. It’s paying off.

I’m finishing up with the film from last night's crime and feeling confident I can pin the killer to the second floor of the first dormitory block when there’s a knock at the door of the monitoring room.

“How are you getting on?” Tarron walks in, and remains against the far wall. I roll my eyes at his distance. It’s funny how people treat me when I’m the Death Bringer. They either fawn all over me like I’m their favourite celebrity, or they stay as far away as possible with cautious fear.

Tarron clearly falls into the latter.

I don’t answer him but do swivel in my chair to face him and nod.

I’ve considered getting something that would distort my voice and fixing it to the inside of my mask but honestly, I can’t be bothered with talking. It’s freeing, and I don’t have to deal with mundane questions. No, the only ones who hear my voice are the ones I’m torturing before I send them on their merry way to the next life. Or Tartarus.

“Right.” Tarron shifts uncomfortably. “Garrick should be here soon and you can show us both what you’ve found.”

Garrick.

Officer-Fuck-me-and-ghost has avoided me at all costs since our altercation in his office. I thought I was a one and done person, but he takes it to a whole new level. And it’s pissing me the fuck off. We need to at least work together to stop the piece of shit interfering in the games.

And no doubt he invited Tarron to this little meeting because he knew I wouldn’t talk in front of him.

The door opens, this time with no knock, and the Head Guard walks in.

“Evening,” he says, all bright and breezy. “Did your theory pan out?”

Only by locking my jaw do I stop the words I want to say to him from flying out. Not only am I angry at him for the epic level of cold shoulder he’s giving me, but I want to eviscerate him for the current mess I’m in with Wyatt and Milo.

Nothing has progressed there either in the last few days. Well, they are growing closer and closer. Wyatt even pulled Milo into his lap at dinner tonight and kissed his neck in front of everyone. It stabbed at my chest, and I had to look away. But beyond telling them the whole truth, I don’t know how to fix it.

I don’t know what I want either. Do I want them both? Can I have them and Garrick? Trying to decipher my own thoughts is sending me off kilter. I’ve never experienced this level of uncertainty before. Especially when it comes to those I’m sleeping with. No one has had this effect on me, and to have all three of them stuck in my mind at the same time is exhausting. But I just can’t move on from any of them.

“Well?” Garrick prompts, pulling me from my thoughts.

Fuck him, and fuck this.

Except, not really. I want to figure it out. But I do need to stick a pin in it for now.

Turning back to the monitors, I point to each one as I play the sequences I’ve isolated and draw attention to the notes I’ve been making as I go. The comprehension on both males' faces is clear as I line up the time stamps on the videos to the estimated times of death for each of the victims.

“You believe the killer is one of the residents on the second floor?” Tarron asks when we reach the final one.

I nod.

“Right, lets get them all in for questioning,” Garrick says, moving to the door. He pauses with his hand on the handle. “Good job,” he adds, and then he’s gone.

“Wow. I thought getting laid would loosen him up a bit but it’s had the opposite effect.” My head snaps to Tarron.

Standing, I fold my arms as I glare at Garrick’s second, tail flicking. He interprets my penetrating gaze accurately, even with the mask veiling my eyes, and starts talking.