Idol Prompt 13: Omakase
Oct. 28th, 2024 03:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
inkstainedfingertipsHis eyes fluttered open and almost immediately, a thick wave of nausea swept over him. As the man got to his hands and knees, his stomach lurched, and he spewed a thick stream of vomit all over the floor in front of him. It splashed on concrete with a wet splash that turned his stomach ever more violently.
His head spun and he was having a hard time focusing. He felt… hungover. It made no sense. He didn’t remember drinking last night. Certainly not enough to be feeling this way.
“It’s the effects of whatever drugs he gave us.”
The voice cut through his consciousness like a knife, sending a rush of adrenaline through his veins. He got to his feet unsteadily, his legs shaking and his belly churning as he turned and faced the woman who’d spoken. Sitting slumped against the wall on the other side of the room, she was petite and plain looking. From her mousy brown hair to her dull hazel eyes, to her obviously off-the-rack clothing that was several years old, there was nothing remarkable about her. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d ever grab his attention.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked.
“Stacy,” she replied. “Stacy Carpenter. And you?”
“Miles,” he replied. “What the fuck is going on here?”
She shrugged. “I woke up here, same as you.”
They were in a concrete room filled with old boxes and crates, stacks of newspapers, and other detritus. The lighting was dim, provided by a pair of cone lights, one at either end of the room, and the air smelled musty. Stale. His stomach starting to settle, Miles looked down and took stock of himself. His Rolex was still on his wrist, he felt the bulge of his wallet in his back pocket, and the ring his father had given him after graduating law school was still on his finger. Whatever was going on, it didn’t seem like robbery was the motive.
A low groan sounded from behind a stack of boxes and Miles watched as a dirty, disheveled man rose from behind them. He was dressed in a camouflage jacket and tattered blue jeans. His hair and beard were wild and unkempt and even from ten feet away, Miles could tell the man hadn’t seen a shower in weeks, if not months. He was obviously homeless. The bedraggled man stared at them both with wide eyes.
“Wh—what’s going on?” he asked.
“No idea,” Miles admitted. “Do either of you remember how you got here?”
Neither had an answer. Miles racked his brain, trying to recall what happened last night. He remembered he’d gone out to dinner with a client. After that, he’d walked out to his Bentley… things after that were hazy.
“Goddammit,” he muttered.
“We were drugged,” Stacy said.
“How do you know?”
She turned her head and pointed to the small red dot that marred the pale skin of her neck. An injection site. Miles touched his own neck and felt the raised bump that was still tender. He’d been injected with something, likely from behind as well.
“We need to get out of here,” the homeless man said.
He dashed to the heavy iron door at the far end of the room and pulled on the handle. it didn’t budge. The man pounded on it and screamed for help at the top of his lungs. Stacy had no reaction at all, and Miles guessed she’d already tried it. Breathing heavily, eyes wild and on the verge of panic, the homeless man turned back to them. Beads of sweat clung to his beard and dried, crusted snot ringed his nostrils. Miles grimaced, disgusted by the sight of the man.
“What’s going on here?” he asked. “Who the fuck are you people?”
Before anybody could say anything further though, a sharp squeal filled the air around them. Miles spun around and spotted a speaker mounted high on the wall and beside it, the red, blinking light of a camera. Somebody was watching.
“There are three of you in this room,” the voice issued from the speaker. “By the end of tonight, one of you will be dead.”
A cold chill swept through Miles as he looked at the other two. They looked just as scared and shocked as he felt.
“I do not care who or how, I will leave that up to you, but one of you must die” the disembodied voice continued. “You will have one hour to do it. If one of you is not dead by the time the clock hits zero, you will all be left in this room to die. And trust me when I say, nobody will ever find you down here.”
“Why are you doing this to us?” Stacy cried.
“Because I can,” was the answer.
“Fuck you, bro!” the homeless man shouted.
“Everything you need to complete your task can be found in this room,” the voice says. “Your sixty minutes begins… now.”
The crackle of the speaker cut off abruptly, ending the one-sided conversation. Red numbers appeared on a clock set on the far wall, unnaturally bright in the gloom of their chamber. For several long moments, the three of them were statue still, staring at the clock as their time ticked away.
Miles walked the perimeter of the room, searching for a hidden door, an air vent, or some other way out. Finding nothing, he grabbed hold of the door handle and yanked on it wildly with one hand as he banged on it with the other. Miles pressed his forehead to the door, his breath labored, his heart racing, and a white hot fear burning in his veins.
“Yeah, that did about as much good as when I tried it,” the homeless man sneered.
“Shut the fuck up,” Miles snapped.
“Why is this happening to us? What did we do?” Stacy cried.
“We didn’t do nothin’, lady. This sick fuck just gets off on this shit,” the homeless man said, pointing to the camera. “He’s probably streaming this shit. Making a fortune from other sick fucks who like watching this shit. So, let’s give them a show and two of us can get the fuck out of here.”
The woman’s shoulders were slumped. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her eyes were as red as her nose. She looked like she’d given up already. Disgusted, Miles snorted and started digging through the boxes all around them finding nothing but junk.
“What the fuck?” the homeless man asked.
The homeless man picked up a knife, its blade dull and rusty. He raised his head and gave Miles a look that chilled him to the bone. Never taking his eyes off the dirty, bedraggled man, Miles squatted down and picked up one of the metal pipes that had fallen out of a box.
Miles put his hand up. “You need to put the knife down.”
“The man said if one of us doesn’t die, we all do,” he said. “I ain’t going to die down here. Not for either of you two fucks.”
It was a sentiment Miles could relate to. He wasn’t going to die for either one of them. They were both beneath him and ordinarily, he wouldn’t have given them the time of day. But they could both be useful tools to helping him get out of there.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Jake.”
“Good. All right,” Miles said. “If we’re going to get out of this, we need to work together, Jake. All of us.”
“We’re not getting out of this. Not all of us,” he replied. “You heard the man.”
“Forget about him. We can get out of this. All of us. But we need to work together.”
Jake shook his head. “Nah. What we need is to figure out which one of you two is gonna die because it sure as shit ain’t gonna be me.”
“It’s not going to be me either,” Miles said.
They both turned and looked at the small woman sitting huddled against the rear wall. Fresh tears streamed down her face.
“I don’t want to die,” she squeaked.
“But… is anybody going to miss you if you’re gone?” Miles asked. “I mean, no offense, but you kind of seem like a spinster cat lady. And you, my man, you look like you’re living on the streets. What kind of life is that?”
“What about you, Rolex?” Jake hissed. “Anybody going to miss you?”
“Plenty of people will miss me. I’m an important person. I’m wealthy. I have everything to live for, which, no offense, neither of you seem to have going for you. Which is why I think it should be one of you.”
“Is that how you measure a life? By the things you have?” Stacy asked.
Miles shrugged. “It’s one way, sure. All I’m saying is I have a lot going for me. I have a life. An important job—”
“I’m a teacher,” Stacy interrupted.
“And I’m a veteran,” Jake added.
“And neither one of you exactly look like you’re thriving. That’s all I’m saying. But I am. And because I am, I should be allowed to continue on with my life.”
“You’re a real prick,” Jake said.
Stacy just lowered her head and cried quietly into her hands. Jake took a step forward, the knife in his hand and a scowl on his face. Miles held the pipe at the ready. He was in good shape. Fit. He took care of himself and knew he could split the man’s head wide open with one good swing if it came to that. Jake apparently seemed to realize it too because he took a step back.
Miles glanced at the clock. “We’ve got thirty minutes to figure this out.”
Jake continued to scowl at him but said nothing. Miles cut a glance at the sobbing woman then turned back to the veteran. All the while, he felt every second passing. Time pressed down on him like it had a physical weight.
“Come on, man. We’re running out of time,” he said quietly. “She’s too meek for this. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s been able to make it as long in the world as she has. Why don’t you and I just make a deal right now. We do her and walk out of here. Together. The prick who stuck us in here left it up to us to figure this out. This is how we do it. Come on. You and me.”
Miles snuck another glance at Stacy and found her staring back at him. Her face was pale, eyes wide, and a stricken expression on her face. At the same time though, she seemed… resigned. She almost looked as if it was the outcome that she expected. That it was the outcome that made sense to her the same way it made sense to him.
He glanced at the clock, appalled that another fifteen minutes had already bled away.
“Jake, we’ve got fifteen minutes to figure this out or we are all going to die down here.”
Miles turned back to the woman. She hadn’t moved an inch and remained slumped against the wall, looking weak and fragile. His grip on the pipe in his hand tightened and images of himself using it to bash her head in with it started to flash through his mind. He imagined the sound of her skull breaking and the wet, warm feel of her blood on his hands. He could practically hear her screams of agony. Hear her begging for him to stop. Pleading for her life.
As he pictured the scene, a strange and unexpected sense of excitement filled Miles’ belly. As he imagined her blood all over his hands and her cries echoed in his mind, Miles felt himself growing aroused. Without knowing where the urge came from, Miles realized he wanted to do this. No, needed to do this. It was like some door in his mind had been unlocked, allowing something monstrous, some darker impulse, that had dwelled deep within him out into the light for the first time. It was a rush of exhilaration like he’d never known before.
He gave himself a shake, doing his best to control the near-maniacal smile that curled the corners of his mouth. He turned back to Jake.
“We can do this, Jake. We have to do this,” he said. “Look at her. She’s already checked out. We’d be doing her a favor. Come on, man. We’ve got ten minutes—”
His body exploded with a searing pain that drew a sharp squeal from him. Eyes wide, Miles turned and found himself staring into the face of Stacy Carpenter. Her eyes were hard, narrowed to slits, and a sneer curled her lips back over her teeth. He looked down and saw her gripping a rusty knife, her hand and the dull blade covered in thick, dark blood. His blood.
With a snarl, she punched her fist forward again and Miles cried out as the blade sunk deep into his belly. Miles watched the scarlet pool spreading around his feet, the pain so intense, it stole his breath. He couldn’t scream. Couldn’t cry out. Couldn’t move. All he seemed able to do was stand there and watch himself bleeding out.
Stacy yanked the blade out of his gut, and he felt a numbing cold in the pit of his belly that was rapidly spreading outward through his body. A hand grabbed his hair from behind and violently jerked his head back. Jake’s lips brushed his ear, his breath was warm upon his cheek and smelled like rotting meat, the stench so thick, Miles gagged. Stacy’s eyes glittered darkly in the dim light as she stared at him, a predatory smile upon her face.
“Guess she didn’t check out after all, huh, boss?” Jake whispered. “Looks like you’re the one who’s going to be checkin’ out, you slimy fuck.”
The edge of Jake’s blade sliced roughly through the flesh of his neck and Miles felt the warm, thick rush of blood spilling down his chest. He fell to his knees and looked down, watching the crimson pool beneath him growing wider. Miles heard a loud electronic buzz followed by a loud clunk and the sharp, metallic squeal of the door opening behind him. Jake stepped forward and with a malicious grin on his face, slipped the Rolex off his wrist. He admired it for a moment before yanking the wallet out of Miles' pocket.
“Thanks, Chief,” he said and chuckled as he walked toward the door.
His vision wavered and everything grew hazy as Stacy loomed over him. She glared down at him, her eyes holding all the warmth of an Arctic glacier. The unassuming spinster cat lady was gone, replaced by something darker, making her look downright malevolent.
“I guess we all have a monster lurking inside of us.”
Light flashed off the blade in her hand as she punched forward, driving it straight into his chest. She left it there as she walked away, her laugh echoing off the concrete walls around him. Miles heard the hard bang of the door being closed again, just before his world faded to black.
His head spun and he was having a hard time focusing. He felt… hungover. It made no sense. He didn’t remember drinking last night. Certainly not enough to be feeling this way.
“It’s the effects of whatever drugs he gave us.”
The voice cut through his consciousness like a knife, sending a rush of adrenaline through his veins. He got to his feet unsteadily, his legs shaking and his belly churning as he turned and faced the woman who’d spoken. Sitting slumped against the wall on the other side of the room, she was petite and plain looking. From her mousy brown hair to her dull hazel eyes, to her obviously off-the-rack clothing that was several years old, there was nothing remarkable about her. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’d ever grab his attention.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked.
“Stacy,” she replied. “Stacy Carpenter. And you?”
“Miles,” he replied. “What the fuck is going on here?”
She shrugged. “I woke up here, same as you.”
They were in a concrete room filled with old boxes and crates, stacks of newspapers, and other detritus. The lighting was dim, provided by a pair of cone lights, one at either end of the room, and the air smelled musty. Stale. His stomach starting to settle, Miles looked down and took stock of himself. His Rolex was still on his wrist, he felt the bulge of his wallet in his back pocket, and the ring his father had given him after graduating law school was still on his finger. Whatever was going on, it didn’t seem like robbery was the motive.
A low groan sounded from behind a stack of boxes and Miles watched as a dirty, disheveled man rose from behind them. He was dressed in a camouflage jacket and tattered blue jeans. His hair and beard were wild and unkempt and even from ten feet away, Miles could tell the man hadn’t seen a shower in weeks, if not months. He was obviously homeless. The bedraggled man stared at them both with wide eyes.
“Wh—what’s going on?” he asked.
“No idea,” Miles admitted. “Do either of you remember how you got here?”
Neither had an answer. Miles racked his brain, trying to recall what happened last night. He remembered he’d gone out to dinner with a client. After that, he’d walked out to his Bentley… things after that were hazy.
“Goddammit,” he muttered.
“We were drugged,” Stacy said.
“How do you know?”
She turned her head and pointed to the small red dot that marred the pale skin of her neck. An injection site. Miles touched his own neck and felt the raised bump that was still tender. He’d been injected with something, likely from behind as well.
“We need to get out of here,” the homeless man said.
He dashed to the heavy iron door at the far end of the room and pulled on the handle. it didn’t budge. The man pounded on it and screamed for help at the top of his lungs. Stacy had no reaction at all, and Miles guessed she’d already tried it. Breathing heavily, eyes wild and on the verge of panic, the homeless man turned back to them. Beads of sweat clung to his beard and dried, crusted snot ringed his nostrils. Miles grimaced, disgusted by the sight of the man.
“What’s going on here?” he asked. “Who the fuck are you people?”
Before anybody could say anything further though, a sharp squeal filled the air around them. Miles spun around and spotted a speaker mounted high on the wall and beside it, the red, blinking light of a camera. Somebody was watching.
“There are three of you in this room,” the voice issued from the speaker. “By the end of tonight, one of you will be dead.”
A cold chill swept through Miles as he looked at the other two. They looked just as scared and shocked as he felt.
“I do not care who or how, I will leave that up to you, but one of you must die” the disembodied voice continued. “You will have one hour to do it. If one of you is not dead by the time the clock hits zero, you will all be left in this room to die. And trust me when I say, nobody will ever find you down here.”
“Why are you doing this to us?” Stacy cried.
“Because I can,” was the answer.
“Fuck you, bro!” the homeless man shouted.
“Everything you need to complete your task can be found in this room,” the voice says. “Your sixty minutes begins… now.”
The crackle of the speaker cut off abruptly, ending the one-sided conversation. Red numbers appeared on a clock set on the far wall, unnaturally bright in the gloom of their chamber. For several long moments, the three of them were statue still, staring at the clock as their time ticked away.
Miles walked the perimeter of the room, searching for a hidden door, an air vent, or some other way out. Finding nothing, he grabbed hold of the door handle and yanked on it wildly with one hand as he banged on it with the other. Miles pressed his forehead to the door, his breath labored, his heart racing, and a white hot fear burning in his veins.
“Yeah, that did about as much good as when I tried it,” the homeless man sneered.
“Shut the fuck up,” Miles snapped.
“Why is this happening to us? What did we do?” Stacy cried.
“We didn’t do nothin’, lady. This sick fuck just gets off on this shit,” the homeless man said, pointing to the camera. “He’s probably streaming this shit. Making a fortune from other sick fucks who like watching this shit. So, let’s give them a show and two of us can get the fuck out of here.”
The woman’s shoulders were slumped. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her eyes were as red as her nose. She looked like she’d given up already. Disgusted, Miles snorted and started digging through the boxes all around them finding nothing but junk.
“What the fuck?” the homeless man asked.
The homeless man picked up a knife, its blade dull and rusty. He raised his head and gave Miles a look that chilled him to the bone. Never taking his eyes off the dirty, bedraggled man, Miles squatted down and picked up one of the metal pipes that had fallen out of a box.
Miles put his hand up. “You need to put the knife down.”
“The man said if one of us doesn’t die, we all do,” he said. “I ain’t going to die down here. Not for either of you two fucks.”
It was a sentiment Miles could relate to. He wasn’t going to die for either one of them. They were both beneath him and ordinarily, he wouldn’t have given them the time of day. But they could both be useful tools to helping him get out of there.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Jake.”
“Good. All right,” Miles said. “If we’re going to get out of this, we need to work together, Jake. All of us.”
“We’re not getting out of this. Not all of us,” he replied. “You heard the man.”
“Forget about him. We can get out of this. All of us. But we need to work together.”
Jake shook his head. “Nah. What we need is to figure out which one of you two is gonna die because it sure as shit ain’t gonna be me.”
“It’s not going to be me either,” Miles said.
They both turned and looked at the small woman sitting huddled against the rear wall. Fresh tears streamed down her face.
“I don’t want to die,” she squeaked.
“But… is anybody going to miss you if you’re gone?” Miles asked. “I mean, no offense, but you kind of seem like a spinster cat lady. And you, my man, you look like you’re living on the streets. What kind of life is that?”
“What about you, Rolex?” Jake hissed. “Anybody going to miss you?”
“Plenty of people will miss me. I’m an important person. I’m wealthy. I have everything to live for, which, no offense, neither of you seem to have going for you. Which is why I think it should be one of you.”
“Is that how you measure a life? By the things you have?” Stacy asked.
Miles shrugged. “It’s one way, sure. All I’m saying is I have a lot going for me. I have a life. An important job—”
“I’m a teacher,” Stacy interrupted.
“And I’m a veteran,” Jake added.
“And neither one of you exactly look like you’re thriving. That’s all I’m saying. But I am. And because I am, I should be allowed to continue on with my life.”
“You’re a real prick,” Jake said.
Stacy just lowered her head and cried quietly into her hands. Jake took a step forward, the knife in his hand and a scowl on his face. Miles held the pipe at the ready. He was in good shape. Fit. He took care of himself and knew he could split the man’s head wide open with one good swing if it came to that. Jake apparently seemed to realize it too because he took a step back.
Miles glanced at the clock. “We’ve got thirty minutes to figure this out.”
Jake continued to scowl at him but said nothing. Miles cut a glance at the sobbing woman then turned back to the veteran. All the while, he felt every second passing. Time pressed down on him like it had a physical weight.
“Come on, man. We’re running out of time,” he said quietly. “She’s too meek for this. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s been able to make it as long in the world as she has. Why don’t you and I just make a deal right now. We do her and walk out of here. Together. The prick who stuck us in here left it up to us to figure this out. This is how we do it. Come on. You and me.”
Miles snuck another glance at Stacy and found her staring back at him. Her face was pale, eyes wide, and a stricken expression on her face. At the same time though, she seemed… resigned. She almost looked as if it was the outcome that she expected. That it was the outcome that made sense to her the same way it made sense to him.
He glanced at the clock, appalled that another fifteen minutes had already bled away.
“Jake, we’ve got fifteen minutes to figure this out or we are all going to die down here.”
Miles turned back to the woman. She hadn’t moved an inch and remained slumped against the wall, looking weak and fragile. His grip on the pipe in his hand tightened and images of himself using it to bash her head in with it started to flash through his mind. He imagined the sound of her skull breaking and the wet, warm feel of her blood on his hands. He could practically hear her screams of agony. Hear her begging for him to stop. Pleading for her life.
As he pictured the scene, a strange and unexpected sense of excitement filled Miles’ belly. As he imagined her blood all over his hands and her cries echoed in his mind, Miles felt himself growing aroused. Without knowing where the urge came from, Miles realized he wanted to do this. No, needed to do this. It was like some door in his mind had been unlocked, allowing something monstrous, some darker impulse, that had dwelled deep within him out into the light for the first time. It was a rush of exhilaration like he’d never known before.
He gave himself a shake, doing his best to control the near-maniacal smile that curled the corners of his mouth. He turned back to Jake.
“We can do this, Jake. We have to do this,” he said. “Look at her. She’s already checked out. We’d be doing her a favor. Come on, man. We’ve got ten minutes—”
His body exploded with a searing pain that drew a sharp squeal from him. Eyes wide, Miles turned and found himself staring into the face of Stacy Carpenter. Her eyes were hard, narrowed to slits, and a sneer curled her lips back over her teeth. He looked down and saw her gripping a rusty knife, her hand and the dull blade covered in thick, dark blood. His blood.
With a snarl, she punched her fist forward again and Miles cried out as the blade sunk deep into his belly. Miles watched the scarlet pool spreading around his feet, the pain so intense, it stole his breath. He couldn’t scream. Couldn’t cry out. Couldn’t move. All he seemed able to do was stand there and watch himself bleeding out.
Stacy yanked the blade out of his gut, and he felt a numbing cold in the pit of his belly that was rapidly spreading outward through his body. A hand grabbed his hair from behind and violently jerked his head back. Jake’s lips brushed his ear, his breath was warm upon his cheek and smelled like rotting meat, the stench so thick, Miles gagged. Stacy’s eyes glittered darkly in the dim light as she stared at him, a predatory smile upon her face.
“Guess she didn’t check out after all, huh, boss?” Jake whispered. “Looks like you’re the one who’s going to be checkin’ out, you slimy fuck.”
The edge of Jake’s blade sliced roughly through the flesh of his neck and Miles felt the warm, thick rush of blood spilling down his chest. He fell to his knees and looked down, watching the crimson pool beneath him growing wider. Miles heard a loud electronic buzz followed by a loud clunk and the sharp, metallic squeal of the door opening behind him. Jake stepped forward and with a malicious grin on his face, slipped the Rolex off his wrist. He admired it for a moment before yanking the wallet out of Miles' pocket.
“Thanks, Chief,” he said and chuckled as he walked toward the door.
His vision wavered and everything grew hazy as Stacy loomed over him. She glared down at him, her eyes holding all the warmth of an Arctic glacier. The unassuming spinster cat lady was gone, replaced by something darker, making her look downright malevolent.
“I guess we all have a monster lurking inside of us.”
Light flashed off the blade in her hand as she punched forward, driving it straight into his chest. She left it there as she walked away, her laugh echoing off the concrete walls around him. Miles heard the hard bang of the door being closed again, just before his world faded to black.
no subject
on 2024-10-29 06:32 am (UTC)Though given Miles' reaction to imagining killing Stacy, it sounds as if he was the best person to lose. And not just because he was snobbish and shallow.
no subject
on 2024-10-31 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-10-31 05:06 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-10-29 12:32 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-10-31 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-10-29 02:17 pm (UTC)I hated Miles and honestly kept picturing Patrick Bateman in my head as him when he was talking about his stuff.🤣
When Stacy was crying, then was all quiet I was like "IS she awake though, because this what I'd do in her situation if I'd heard Miles saying that stuff about me, because a guy like that would absolutely fall for a short blonde woman - which I am- being too afraid to actually fight him until its too late."
I really wanted the story to go there and was so thrilled that you went to exactly that place!
I also love the Saw vibes with them being trapped in a room and someone on the floor being still until they aren't.
The final visual in my head of Stacy laughing as she leaves is so cinematic as well, like I can just picture it in my head.
This was amazing as always, the dialogue was terrific and I could picture all three of these people so, so clearly. They all felt extremely real.
Truly head over heels for your terrific writing and it's just a delight for me to read you every week.
no subject
on 2024-10-31 04:27 pm (UTC)Your words have meant so much to me all season and I cannot thank you enough for your encouragement and support. It has really meant the world to me. I really hope you win it all--I think you will, personally--and will be cheering you on.
no subject
on 2024-11-02 06:01 am (UTC)you are so so welcome! <3 you've been my favorite in this whole thing and I look forward to seeing your pieces every week.
I really hope you win it all--I think you will, personally--and will be cheering you on. this is the sweetest, thank you so so much. the feeling is so very mutual, I would be over the moon to see you win this.
no subject
on 2024-10-29 07:54 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-10-31 04:27 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-10-30 02:54 pm (UTC)At first I thought it was going to be a No Exit kind of thing or like CUBE, but then I realized it was going to be like Saw. I only watched one, no idea which.
Of course, the men would go after the woman--easy prey. NOT!
no subject
on 2024-10-31 04:22 pm (UTC)Thank you so much.
no subject
on 2024-10-30 07:03 pm (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)
no subject
on 2024-10-31 04:21 pm (UTC)Thank you so much.
no subject
on 2024-10-31 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-10-31 08:05 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-10-31 06:04 pm (UTC)I wasn't clear on why Miles suddenly flipped his approach to their situation. True, he had contempt for both of them from the beginning, but he went from "we need to work together," to insisting he was the only one with a worthwhile life who needed to survive.
Dan
no subject
on 2024-10-31 08:04 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-10-31 10:55 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2024-11-07 09:50 pm (UTC)