"Shit!"

Pickle jerked his controller back, sighing in defeat as his character on the television screen died. He slumped over a little, then turned to look at Mic, who was still rapidly button-mashing.

"Have you played this before?"

"Huh?" Mic set down the controller, looking over at Pickle. "Uh, no. I haven't tried many video games." Then back to the game, though her head was tilted to the side in a way that showed she was still listening.

"Oh. Well, you're pretty good for a newbie, y'know. I always get stuck on these levels."

"Yeah," Mic shrugged. "It's pretty hard. The enemy thing is annoying."

Pickle nodded, watching the screen. "It always comes back. It won't leave you alone. I get that."

"At first it was fun. The enemy character, the fighting and stuff. But now it's just.. ah, I dunno, annoying isn't the right word." Mic shrugged.

"Like you're stuck in a loop," Pickle offered, now staring at the carpet.

Mic mashed the buttons on the controller while trying to beat the enemy. "Like you're always left rethinking what you could've done better, y'know?"

"It gets kind of tiring when things like that happen," Pickle agreed. "When someone- I mean, when the character keeps reminding you of all the bad things that happened before and all of the mistakes you made. In the game."

"Things could have gone differently, if I had just done was I was supposed to-" As Mic's character shot at the pixelated boss, Pickle remained looking down.

"But it's not your fault," He mumbled.

"But, maybe it is. If everything could just stay how it was, then I wouldn't have to deal with what's left behind." Mic dropped the controller as her character died, the two both glaringly aware that neither was talking about the game anymore.

As much as she didn't want to spill everything onto him, Mic thought that it seemed- well, it sounded like he understood. At least a little. So maybe it was okay. With a small exhale, she finally decided to cave in and talk about the enemy in her own metaphorical game.

"Taco-"

Microphone and Pickle both stared at each other as the name left both of their mouths simultaneously. Pickle recoiled slightly, looking confused, and Mic kind of just looked ashamed.

"How do you know her?-" Pickle asked, seeming instantly worried. "You're new. She's gone. She shouldn't be- you shouldn't know her."

Taking the defensive side, Mic held her hands up, sinking down into the boy's mattress a little. This was awkward. "Well, uh, you see- She kind of.. came back? And manipulated me into working with her? And I did some pretty bad things. Morally speaking. So I kind of just. Quit. The show, and talking to her. I realized that she wasn't who she said she'd be. Well.. maybe it was more like I realized she wasn't who I wanted her to be. Who I'd been pretending she was.."

Pickle was speechless for a bit, first angry about Taco ever showing her face again, and afterwards just feeling.. sad.

"Knife said Taco betrayed you in some way. He warned me about her. He said she was manipulating me, but I didn't want to hear it. But, you know, he was right.." Mic stared at the mattress. "And, those letters by your door- it seems like she wants you to think she's changed, too."

"I've never bought that crap," Pickle shook his head. I wish she would just- let it go. I'm done with her. She should move on to someone else. But. I guess, in a way, she did. To you. And now, probably, to some other contestant."

"Do you think she's gonna give up?"

"No," Pickle sighed.

"I think we both knew the answer to that one," Mic laughed dryly. It felt nice to have someone to understand what she went through, but it made her mad, too. That anyone else had to deal with it.

And of course Taco wasn't going to give up. There were four contestants left, one of them would have to suffice-

Wait.

"Mic. Knife knew about you and Taco, yeah?"

"Mhm."

"And did anyone else know?"

"Not that I know of. She would've told me if someone saw us," Mic shrugged, looking confused.

Pickle stared at Mic, growing more stressed by the minute. "There's no way she would risk revealing herself to other people. She broke me, she broke you, Knife is the only safe next option.. No, Knife is smart, he wouldn't fall for-"

"I thought I wouldn't fall for anything either," Mic mumbled. "Knife is smart, but Taco is one step ahead of everyone."

They stared at each other, unblinking for a moment. Silent. Tense.

"How fast do you think she would move? She usually takes things slow, I mean, she waited a whole season to reveal herself first," Pickle shook his head, trying to make the situation less scary.

"That was when she had something to hide. She has no reason to be slow."

Pickle grabbed onto her arm, tugging on it desperately. If she payed close attention, a small tremble would be noticeable in the motion of his fingers. "Mic, dude. We gotta help him. Or at least, I dunno, sneak him into the hotel and make sure she doesn't get to him! This is serious."

"Are we gonna sneak out of here? Out a window or something? Or, like, are we just leaving through the front door? Is anyone up to catch us?!" Mic's voice raised in volume and urgency with each question, but was silenced by Pickle standing and tugging on her arm.

"Who fucking cares, let's get out of here!"

This was all happening so, so quickly. Pickle didn't even have a chance to get his thoughts together enough to wonder where they were going to look for him. Down a staircase, through the hallway and to the front door, where no one was waiting to catch them as Mic had feared.

Mic put a hand on the door, pushing on it, but it didn't budge. She pushed with both hands, a little more desperately, but still nothing, shooting a worried glance to Pickle.

He gave a kick at the wood, but the door was completely locked and wouldn't budge. A dry laugh escaped his lips. "Do they seriously think this is going to stop anyone?" With a small exhale, he wandered backwards, and Mic shot him a worried glance at his determined expression.

"We should just wait until morning. I'm sure she's not after him already, and the door will be unlocked! It's probably safer not to be out at night anywa-"

Mic was caught off guard as Pickle rammed his body against the door, which flung open and left the boy laying awkwardly on the floor once the weight beneath him was gone.

Absolutely lost for words, Mic just blurted the obvious. "That was loud."

Pickle brushed himself off as he stood, shooting a goofy sort of smile back to Mic. "No kidding. Let's go, Oj's gonna think someone's breaking in or something."

Mic nodded and followed him out of the door.

They broke into a run away from the opened doors of the hotel, adrenaline pushing small laughs out of Mic's lips despite her worries about Knife. Something about running away after doing something you're not supposed to, especially there, out in the crisp dawn air with the sun not yet peeking out over the horizon, it felt freeing. The kind of free that makes you laugh without thinking. The kind that makes your head buzz, like how when she and Taco snuck after Knife in the cave they would push a hand over each other's mouths to keep any sounds out. She remembered the way they'd bicker and giggle and push and shove over the littlest things, how they always felt so secretive and mischievous just being together.

No.

Stop thinking about her.

Mic clenched her fists and looked back up to the boy that was running a ways ahead of her.

There's better people to think about now.

- - -

"Here it is!" Taco announced, gesturing to the pile of scrap metal from the ship the contestants had made earlier.

"Um." Knife stared blankly. "That's a bunch of metal."

"No, you dunce. It's what's underneath the metal. This is Test Tube's trash pile of sorts, I suppose. She must've found my things around the lab and thrown them in with the rest. They're underneath there, and it's your task to retrieve them."

Knife shrugged. "Alright. What exactly am I looking for here-?"

"I'll let you know when you find them," Taco hummed, propping herself up on top of one of the cleaner countertops. The others were covered in miscellaneous papers, puddles of unrecognizable liquid, beakers and vials. This one was relatively tidy, and made an alright sitting spot, one where Taco could peer over Knife's shoulder while he worked.

With a slightly annoyed sigh, Knife made his way to the pile and started moving pieces of metal from the top and onto the floor. He understood why Taco needed help with this, she was short and the weight of the trashed items were even slightly hard for him to manage.

"So, Knife. What's your plan?"

"Huh?"

"For the competition. What's your strategy? Final four, correct? You have to have some plan. I'm sure everyone else does," Taco leaned back, propping herself up with her arms and staring at the ceiling.

"I don't have one, and I don't need one. Stop trying to break me down. It's not gonna work."

Taco huffed dismissively. "Breaking you down? It's called small talk, though I can't blame you for pinning this on me. Not having a plan for something this important is honestly quite pathetic."

"Unlike you, I don't consider manipulation a strategy. And anyways, I don't want to get too into it. That's what everyone else is doing. Letting it get personal and way too big in their minds, you know. I'm just going with what I got, it's all I can do to not lose my mind." Knife's voice strained a bit towards the end, though he would've blamed it on being tired or carrying the metal or anything other than the mental exhaustion he felt over Inanimate Insanity. Taco wasn't making him feel any better, but he wasn't going to admit that anything she said affected him in any way.

"A shame. I figured you'd be taking something so important a little more seriously."

"I'm not gonna go crazy over some dumb contest."

Taco extended her arm, examining her hand in an almost bored manner. "And this is where I could come in. I cover strategy, stress, thinking; all you need to do is carry out the plan. You won't have to worry about anything. It's practically guaranteed victory."

"No." Knife rolled his eyes, throwing a chunk of metal dangerously close to Taco's side.

"I had a feeling you would say something like that, and rest assured, I can be patient and wait for you to come to terms with your situation. But you don't have forever. I want what's best for you as much as you do."

After that, Knife stopped answering. He knew Taco was lying and it was useless to bicker like this. It was just making him even more annoyed. Working silently made things go by more slowly, but her voice was getting on his nerves.

From underneath a particularly large metal piece, Knife pulled a calculator and was about to throw it to the side when he heard Taco gasp.

"That! That's it! You found it."

Knife stared at the girl who was doing grabby hand up at the calculator, and instantly held it up higher. "A calculator? This is all you wanted?"

"Yes," Taco stood up on the counter, trying to grab for it. "Now give it here!"

Knife raised a brow, swinging his arm away. "What does it do?"

"What does it-.. it's a calculator, you imbecile! I figured you would at least know that, but perhaps you're more stupid than I thought."

"If it's just that, then I'm sure it'd be okay if I used it," Knife grumbled, lifting a hand to start pressing buttons. He knew Taco was lying, there was no way she'd take him all this way for something so useless, especially when there were other calculators visible all over the laboratory.

Taco tensed up, proving his suspicions. "No! Don't touch that."

Knife glared down at her. "What is this thing? Tell me the truth and I might give it to you. Otherwise, I could just break it."

With a small huff, Taco clasped her hands together. "Fine, if you insist. That right there is a metal detector, similar to what Microphone and I were using in the cave to find those crystals."

"Hm. Just a metal detector."

"Yes."

Knife lowered his arm, as if about to hand it over, but thought again. "Then what's the big deal about me using it? If it's not gonna do anything bad, I should at least get to try it out and make sure you're not lying."

Suddenly, Knife felt weight crashing onto him as Taco tackled him onto the ground, grabbing at the device frantically. There was yelling and punching, Taco winning at the beginning, but it didn't take long for Knife to grab onto her and hold her kicking body in the air where she couldn't reach.

"Fine," she panted, looking as angry as the day she'd lost in the race against Oj all those years ago. "I suppose if you're going to be like that, things can't go the easy way."

Before Knife could react, she was biting down on his hand, dropping down to the floor. She pulled out her taser and held it at him, snatching the calculator while he was distracted.

"It's a shame. You could have been an excellent asset, truly," she clicked her tongue softly, as if in disapproval.

Knife reached forward to grab for the calculator, but felt tingling sensation that lead into a huge cramp-like feeling washing over his body. His head was buzzing, but his eyes managed to glaze across the taser in Taco's hand as she grinned and stepped away.

"We can't all be winners."