#plot event 001.

The kissing booth had been a successful venture for the lifeguards every year, but with Virginia Virginia at the helm of the booth this year, the sunscreen fund was far from suffering. She was helping to count the money when a little note fell out of one of the stacks of cash. What it said? “MEET ME BACKSTAGE AT 7:30 SHARP, OR I SPILL YOUR DIRTY LITTLE SECRET. SEE YOU SOON!” @virginiacherries

Zahra had spent most of the day on Roller Coaster Row along with the rest of the Boardwalk’s patrons, but now that the day was winding down to a close - and the Coasters were taking a break to draw the crowd down to the stage - she’d better go find her friends. It probably would have been difficult had she been on her own in the endeavor, but like a miracle worker, a Boardwalk worker shows up and tells her that Rory has been looking for her. Apparently her cousin is backstage waiting for her. Huh. She must be with the band -- and Zahra better hurry to get there before the ribbon cutting starts. @zahrajackson

THE NARRATOR: Reunions were supposed to be pleasant occasions, weren’t they? They were supposed to bring feelings of joy, and nostalgia; you were supposed to forget the awkward haze that had plagued your last year all together in high school, and just… pretend like the good old days were actually just that. Good. Absence did make the heart grow fonder and all that, didn’t it? 

Though, maybe it’s silly to wonder why this little reunion, hanging out in the wings of the Main Stage, might not be so pleasant. It had only been a week ago that Virginia was drugged in Harvey’s basement, after all. Playing at the whims of a suspected lunatic, baring their souls - and their tongues - to each other. Not even ‘a Day in Carousel Cove!’ could smooth over that awkward little blip, could it? And the fact that Clarissa could just tell something was up with the little group definitely didn't help.

Still, the three of them made their polite-ish, familiar conversation. Zahra was wondering where Rory was - Clarissa was wondering where the heck that hunk, Harvey Hargrove was - and Virginia… Well, she was wondering where the hell this Candy Girl was.

ZAHRA: Zahra was getting a little annoyed to be honest. Going backstage would definitely not help keep her... whatever with Casey on the down low, and being caught in semi-awkward, semi-polite conversation with Virginia and Clarissa was nowhere in her day plan. The sooner she could find where the hell Rory was, the better as far as she was concerned. "Okay, let's skip to the part where we're done talking," she interrupted abruptly, clearly having been paying little attention to what was being said. "Have either of you seen Rory or can I go?"

VIRGINIA ANN: Virginia wasn't shaking in her boots just yet, but she couldn't help but feel the lump in the back of her throat when she had read that little note. So cryptic, but so telling. The last thing she wanted was for everyone to find out her dirty little secret(s) so she showed up and played nice, as much as Virginia Virginia could play nice. "Um, hello? Were you like not given a lesson in Polite 101?" Virginia quipped back, motioning between herself and Clarissa. "Do we look like we'd know where Rory is? She's probably somewhere making out with Libby." Frankly, Virginia didn't give two flying farts about where Rory was, she was just wondering about where this coveted Candy Girl was. She wasn't expecting whoever they were to show up, but there was a part of her that kept her eyes flocking between everyone. Maybe it was Zahra or Clarissa who had sent her the note. Or maybe Virginia was just letting this get under her skin a little too much.

THE NARRATOR: Clarissa is just about to question the statement - um, Rory and Libby? Hello, how had she never thought of the angle?! - their conversation is cut off by the sound of Dean Hargrove on the stage to their left, welcoming the citizens to the boardwalk, thanking them for a great day, and more; but before the man can introduce Lux’s parents who have just joined him onstage… Before he can start in on his plans to announce the renaming of the ‘Lux Lewis Memorial Carousel’, he’s cut off by a voice that none of them quite recognize… a voice that might just damn them all.

CANDY GIRL: “REST IN PEACE TO OUR DEAR OLD LUX, BUT I HAVE NEWS THAT THE CHERRY TIMES IS TOO SCARED TO TELL! THIS WAS NO SUICIDE. LUX WAS MURDERED. THE QUESTION IS - WHICH ONE OF HER FRIENDS DID IT?”

THE NARRATOR: At that moment, a sheet unfurls behind Dean Hargrove, and a projector that seems to have been installed into the soundbooth across from the stage flips on. The image it casts should be a shocking sight, but to our little ragtag slice of the gang, the Cherry Bomb logo is all too recognizable. The image is a blown up cover of her latest issue, and - surprise, surprise! - Lux is once again the star. 

It would have been hard not to hear the collective gasp of the crowd - to feel the tension that had pulled it’s way into the air around them - but this little slice of the gang is too focused on copy after copy of the Cherry Bomb falling from the catwalks above the mainstage to notice. Everyone is looking up, away from the sick slideshow that’s now showing crime scene photos from the night of Lux’s death - trying to get a glimpse of whoever is throwing them - but nobody can quite see who is responsible. One thing is for sure, though. Whoever they are, they’ve got Boardwalk Employee shirts on.

CANDY GIRL: “AND TO THAT LITTLE GANG! MAKE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE LATEST ISSUE. SOMEONE IS MISSING, AND YOU’RE THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN FIND THEM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE. GOOD LUCK!”

THE NARRATOR: Just as the little message is over, and the vicinity is filled with the all-too-loud sound of Cherry Bomb by the Runaways bursting their eardrums… Something slaps to the ground behind them. The three of them turn, just in time to come face to face with a figure in a black hoodie - at their feet? An issue of the Cherry Bomb.

They can’t quite tell if it’s a woman or a man; they can’t quite tell how tall they are without the help of their boots, or what the color of their hair is. The only thing distinctive enough to notice is the fucking mask that’s staring them all right back in the face; smiling like a lunatic, and sending chills down their spines.

Could this actually be her? Could it… Could it actually be the Candy Girl?

Nobody moves for a moment; a long moment. So, when the figure finally kicks a foot out to slide the magazine toward them - the issue only stopping when it hits their own shoes - they can’t help but flinch… And then again, when they take off running.

MAKE A CHOICE: WHOEVER THE HELL THAT IS - THEY’RE GETTING AWAY! DO YOU WANT TO CHASE THEM [STRENGTH], OR LET THEM GO [CALM]?

ZAHRA: Zahra's mind was moving a million miles a minute, jumping from Lux's potential murder to the copies of the Cherry Bomb raining down to frantically trying to remember when she had last seen any of the rest of the gang, to the likelihood of the person in front of her being the Candy Girl. A hundred little things were in her brain, so when she took of running after the hooded figure she wasn't even fully thinking about it. The math was simple and instinctive - whoever they were, they were involved. If they were involved, they had information. Information means one step closer to making sure she doesn't lose another member of her little found family. Not to mention that if they were involved, they were at least partial responsible for this whole clusterfuck and that could not go unpunished. Never before had she been so glad she hadn't worn heels (sandals and painted toenails were much more beach appropriate, anyway).

THE NARRATOR: Ha. The figure had been expecting them to give chase, and they fell right into the time trap. Zahra gave a good chase - ducked when they did, dove through every sudden turn they made. She was good - better than they thought she would be - but she wasn't good enough. 

It was somewhere in the crowd that figure finally managed to get the jump on her. She was being pushed in every direction - pulled by the chaos of people trying to get the hell out of the chaos - when she finally lost sight of them. What she did find, though? The supposed ‘Candy Girl’s’ mask on the ground, trampled by the onlookers, but still there... at least she had proof, right? 

So much for throwing hands. She better get back to Clarissa and Virginia.

MAKE A CHOICE: THE GANG HAS SUFFERED A TIME PENALTY FOR THEIR ACTIONS.

THE NARRATOR: Zahra's losing the masked lunatic or not - however annoyed Virginia was that she hadn't caught her - they were personally delivered a copy of the Cherry Bomb for a reason, right? The Candy Girl wouldn’t just show herself if there weren’t some grand scheme involved. 

Clarissa wants to go get her father, like, ASAP, but somehow the other two manage to convince her not to do it. They have to open the Cherry Bomb alone - they would surely get punished if they went to the police. Right?

The cover is collaged with photos of Lux, the inside? Crime scene photos. There’s no pictures of her body, of course - that would be crude, even for the Candy Girl… kind of. But images of the blood soaked into her carpet; still pictures of her bedroom, flaunting a life once lived, those are there. A shot of her suicide note, ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ and all.

  And right there, in the middle of the spread, like a centerfold? A note, written in Sharpie - just for our ragtag little slice of the gang.

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO. 

BUT WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT! YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK! LET IT RUN OUT, AND THEY’LL STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

THE NARRATOR: Oh...my. Now, that’s a predicament, isn’t it? I suppose we’re at least lucky that the Candy Girl leaves the rules simple, right? Find a key, and… Maybe she doesn’t kill one of your friends. Maybe.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST FIND A KEY, BUT HOW DO YOU IT? BY LOOKING FOR CLUES [PROBLEM SOLVING] OR BY TEARING BACKSTAGE APART? [LUCK]

VIRGINIA ANN: Virginia didn't know if it was her lack of critical thinking, Zahra running off, or the photos within the Cherry Bomb, but after the initial shock of the crime scene photos, the last thing Virginia wanted was someone to end up like Lux again. Virginia had never considered murder, she thought she had pushed Lux to the edge of her suicide but was Candy Girl right? Had Lux been murdered and if so, was this lunatic the one who was doing it? And were they planning on doing it again if the three of them didn't act fast enough? A key, Virginia could do that. She could find that. Immediately after reading the note, the blonde began tearing apart every surface she could. Tearing tarps away, moving cords, opening boxes, anything that could lead her to the puzzle piece they needed.

THE NARRATOR: It shouldn’t have worked - it definitely shouldn’t have worked! But, somehow - with the heads of Zahra, Clarissa, and Virginia on the case - the three girls actually manage to find something. It’s a Cherry red briefcase with a lock on the top; a place for a four digit code. And get this, Clarissa was looking at the note, and it turns out that it was a clue all along!

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS. YOU HAVE GAINED EXTRA HINTS FOR THE RIDDLE, AND MADE IT EASIER TO RESCUE YOUR FRIEND.

ZAHRA: Zahra enters 2134 into the lock.

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. TRY AGAIN.

VIRGINIA ANN: Virginia enters 3214 into the lock.

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. TRY AGAIN

CLARISSA: Clarissa rolls her eyes. "Ugh, fine! If you, like, seriously need me to be the one to put it in, then I'll do it, but don't blame me when the thing blows up!" The blonde was terrified - of course it was this gang of weirdos who got her pulled into this kind of trouble - but as she clicks '3142' into the briefcase... miraculously it clicks open. And doesn't explode. Thank god!

THE NARRATOR: Finally, the box pops open, and as promised, they’re granted a shiny little key on a ring… But along with it, they’re also given another note from the Candy Girl. Another riddle.

CANDY GIRL:  SOMEONE IS MISSING - YOU HAVE THE KEY.

BUT YOU NEED TO MORE, FROM YOUR FRIENDS, YOU SEE.

ONLY THREE WILL PLEASE THE LOCK - ONLY THREE UNLOCK THE BOX.

TWO MUST RUN, THEY MUST RETRIEV!

BUT THE ONE, MUST SCOPE THE BEACH. MISSINGS THE THEME, MISPELLED IS THE CLUE, FOR THE DIRECTION THAT YOU’LL WANT TO DO.

TO THE RUNNERS, HERE’S YOUR CLUE! LOOK FOR SOMEONE WHO HATES ONE OF YOU! BEST FRIEND OF YOUR BEST FRIEND - TWIN FLAME OF YOUR GUY. OMEONE YOU BOTH KNOW IS HIDING THEIR LIES.

THE OTHER KEY HIDES WITH THE KEEPER OF PROSE - AND MAYBE THAT ONE IS TOO ON THE NOSE. BUT IF YOU DON’T FIND HIM, NOTEBOOK AND ALL, THEN WATCH OUT, WACH OUT…

IT’S YOUR BABY THAT FALLS.

THE NARRATOR: Their hearts are pounding in their chests so loud they’re all convinced they can hear it echoing off of the walls - even over the music that’s still playing - but… Nothing could mask the sound of the Dean barking their name from behind them; Lux’s parents watching, horrified, as they pick up the copy of the Cherry Bomb that’s still laying there on the ground, where they left it. “Would any of you like to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Lewis what the hell is going on here?” 

No, no, no! There’s no time for this. They have to solve the riddle - they have to find the keys before it’s too late. Somebody needs to get rid of the Dean… or maybe they just need to run.

MAKE A CHOICE: SOMEBODY GET RID OF THE DEAN, [CHARISMA, BRAVERY, HONESTY] OR RUN! [BRAVERY, FIGHTER, SURVIVOR]

ZAHRA: Zahra didn't even register the words of the Dean. Her mind was stuck on that line - IT’S YOUR BABY THAT FALLS. Icy fear filled her at the implications - this was Rory they were working to save. With those five words the Candy Girl had reached into her heart and wrapped a hand around it, threatening to rip it out entirely. They didn't have time to hesitate or explain - not with Rory on the line. Fuck. Fuckity fucking fuck. The Dean's voice was a faded muffle, drowned out by her pounding heart as she looked at Virginia and Clarissa. Her eyes had narrowed and her hands had curled into fists, crushing the second note with the force of her anger, panic, and pure terror. "We're running," she said simply, determination and fear both audible in her tone. And, for the second time that day, she took off as fast she could, holding onto that note and the hope that they'd solved the riddle correctly.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS. EVERYONE MUST RUN! SPLIT UP. FIND THE CORRECT FRIENDS. RUN THE CORRECT DIRECTION ON THE BEACH. IT’S THE ONLY WAY TO WIN. EVERYONE RESPOND. [STRENGTH, BRAVERY, OR FIGHTER]

CLARISSA: Clarissa thinks it's a bad idea to leave her to run for the keys... and then all the way back to the beach. Like, did they think she was Superwoman, or something? But if this Candy Girl was really as sinister as she seemed to be - well, Rissa couldn't exactly let Rory Collins, like, die on the beach, could she? Besides the fact that her Dad would be pissed at her, even she had to admit it would totally hang onto her conscience until she bit the dust too. So with a groan, she just takes off toward wherever the hell Noah is and hopes that he has this dumb key. He better. She didn't want to be seen talking to Noah Russell, for like. Any other reason.

MAKE A CHOICE: CLARISSA WAS SUCCESSFUL. SHE MUST GET TO THE BEACH.

VIRGINIA ANN: As soon as Zahra said that they were running, it took no time for Virginia's feet to start going. There wasn't much going on in her brain, but it didn't take a genius to deduce that Zahra would be the one going after Rory and that it would be Virginia and Clarissa getting the keys. With her legs moving as quickly as she possibly could, Virginia hunted for Libby who she hoped would have a key for her. It's not like she wanted to go to another funeral before her 19th birthday.

MAKE A CHOICE: VIRGINIA WAS SUCCESSFUL. SHE MUST GET TO THE BEACH.

ZAHRA: Zahra ran as fast as she could, for once uncaring about keeping her hair perfect or her clothes pristine. She just ran west, heading for the beach. Her legs burned with exertion but the adrenaline had well and truly kicked in. Losing Rory was unacceptable - especially so soon after Lux. Especially not when she was here this time, actually able to do something.

VIRGINIA ANN: After getting the key from Libby, Virginia prayed to the stolen Louis Vuitton bag in her possession that she had gotten everything in time. With a huff, she took off in the direction of the beach, her legs pumping more than she ever thought they could. If there was a list of things Virginia was grateful for it'd be that stolen bag and the years of cheer conditioning that prepped her for a true life-or-death moment.

CLARISSA: Yikes. So, apparently the little group had been through more hell than she thought. She had retrieved the key from Noah, and along with it she had gotten a sneak peek at another little piece of the gang that had been tormented over the last half hour. Had it really only been a half hour? Christ.

She had to stop thinking about it, though - she had to stop thinking about how much she wished she had actually stuck to her cardio, like she had insisted she would over New Years - and keep pushing. She wouldn't let Rory Collins die. The Lux news cycle was barely even over!

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS... KIND OF.

THE NARRATOR: Zahra scopes the beach far and wide, it’s an exhaustive effort, but after a mighty search, they finally spot it. The tide has been coming in - barely the top is visible… and it’s filling with water fast. She could already be gone. They sprint toward it with all of their might - they pray that she’s still breathing in her little prison… But is she? 

MAKE A CHOICE: UNLOCK THE BOX.

ZAHRA: Zahra had never been as grateful for Virginia, Clarissa, or several years of competitive commitment to cheer as she was right now. Maybe this was the first time she'd been truly grateful for Virginia in, like, ever. She'd never admit it, but her hands were shaking as she fit the keys into the locks, holding them a little too tight to make sure there was no chance of dropping them and having them be washed away by the tide. With her heart in her throat, she unlocked the locks one by one, threw the box open, and pulled her cousin out into her arms.

RORY:  Rory wasn’t sure how long she had been locked in here. Her throat was raw from screaming for help, from crying between shouting. No one seemed to be coming. At that realization, she’d curled up as small as she could in the claustrophobic little box, with her arms wrapped tight around her ears as she tried to block out the sound of the waves that were so nearby. Too close for comfort. 

If those people with the masks came back - god, she wished they would just come back - she wasn’t going anywhere without a fight. Not that it had helped when they grabbed her. Rough hands yanking her into the dark. 

Her hands was sore from throwing herself against the top, trying with everything she had to break through. After a while, she’d given up on that, certain that an ugly bruise was already blooming on both palms. She promised herself she’d keep trying anyway if no one came in the next few hours. Surely someone would realize she was gone soon, wouldn’t they?

God knows how long it had already been. At least 3 hours - maybe more. Maybe a lot more. Rory wished she had a watch. Or a light. For the first time, she wished she was more addicted to the cigs she occasionally bummed off of others. At least a lighter’s meager flame would have offered some comfort in the pitch black box. Rory couldn’t even see her hand when she held it in front of her face.

She hated the dark. Hated it. She hated the water more… so when she started to hear the sound of those waves, crashing up against the walls of her tiny prison? When she began to feel her clothes getting wet, and smelling the salty foam in her nose? When what little air she had became a crack in the corner of the box, and when she got so tired that she began sputtering on water? 

Rory was going to die here, wasn’t she?

The sound of someone running on the beach - someone shouting her name - jarred her from her spiraling thoughts. It pulled her from the haze of near-death, and giving up. She let out a bloodcurdling scream, and pounded on the top of the box with her hands. “HELLO? LET ME OUT OF HERE!” She shrieked, her voice sounding hoarse even to her own ears. Her thoughts tripped over one another as hope flooded her brain. They came- they came and they got her, her friends -

As soon as the top of the box started to crack, she bolted through the opening and threw her arms around the first person she saw in a death-grip hug. She was shaking, tears spilling down her cheeks, and unable to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “Oh my god you came, you guys came,” before her throat was too tight to speak anymore.

When it was put there, he doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Casey’s heart skip. There, in the case of his instrument is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @caseyfm

When it was put there, she doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Sloane’s heart skip. There, hidden within her deck of tarot cards is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @saltofthcearth

When it was put there, she doesn’t know, but the note should be enough to make Libby’s heart skip. There, in her ride locker, is a folded piece of paper. On its surface? A threat. “COME TO THE NEW CAROUSEL AT 7:30PM SHARP, OR YOUR SECRET IS MINE TO SPILL!” @hellolibby​ 

THE NARRATOR: Reunions were supposed to be pleasant occasions, weren’t they? They were supposed to bring feelings of joy, and nostalgia; you were supposed to forget the awkward haze that had plagued your years of high school, and… pretend like the good old days were actually just that. Good. Absence did make the heart grow fonder and all that, didn’t it? 

Though, maybe it’s silly to wonder why this little reunion might not be so pleasant. The three of them - Casey, Libby, and Sloane - all walk up to the Carousel at the same time. They all meet each other’s eyes, and though nobody says it, everyone hears the same thought in their head. ‘Fuck.’

LIBBY: "So..." Libby's voice wavers dangerously - her hands shake, cast and all - but somehow she fights every urge she has within herself to run the other direction before chaos can unravel itself all around them. If the Candy Girl wanted them all here, then she doubted running away would be of much use. They were all trapped in Cherry… But this time, it wasn’t ‘small town syndrome’ keeping them back. "Probably safe to assume running into each other here isn't just a coincidence, right?"

SLOANE: There was an urge to reach out to the both of them and pull them in close that Sloane resisted, looking between Libby and Casey. So much for a lull in this Candy Girl's machinations, it seems a week was enough for her to plan something more. She swallowed thickly and then shook her head, folding her arms over her chest nervously. "Well, obviously I wouldn't be here if I didn't need to be." She motioned towards the Carousel. Talk about betraying her cause.

CASEY: Casey follows Sloane's gesture to the carousel. How did wooden horses somehow seem so menacing at night? It was thirty minutes before Mystic Cherry were due to perform and instead he was here about to do...? The sinking feeling in his gut tells him that this is going to lead to no good. "Yeah, this definitely isn't my idea of a warm up before a gig..." he mumbles, before his gaze falls on them both.

THE NARRATOR: There’s no clock to strike the time - nothing to let them know that 7:30-sharp has approached but the faint sound of Dean Hargrove’s voice in the distance is enough to let them know. They're all watching each other, but they can't help but flinch at the intrusion of the sound... And then, yet again ,when Hargrove is cut off by a voice that none of them quite recognize. They’re too far away to hear what the commotion is about, but somehow they know… Their night just took a turn for the worse.

It would have been impressive timing if it weren’t so fucking frightening, but at just that moment, their very own issue of the Cherry Bomb is dropped from the roof of the carousel, and onto it’s platform - near one of the old horses that looked a little too off-it’s-rocker. It’s clearly meant for them… It has to be. The only problem? The Gang is stuck, woefully, behind a locked fence.

There are a few ways to get to it, at least. They could always take their chances climbing the fence  to get inside of the Carousel; it doesn’t look that high.

Casey knows the guys who work here… They’re always leaving things lying around. Maybe it might be best to look around for a lanyard someone might have dropped.

 Then again, Libby has been treating the Boardwalk like a second home since she was just a kid, and she says there’s always another way in… Maybe they look for a hole in the fence?

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST RETRIEVE THE CHERRY BOMB. DO YOU CLIMB THE GATE [SURVIVOR], LOOK FOR A LANYARD [PROBLEM SOLVING], OR LOOK FOR A HOLE IN THE FENCE [PERCEPTION]?

LIBBY:  "Come on, guys, Casey's right. What are the odds that someone didn't drop their key? It's the boardwalk." It's easy to tell when Libby is determined to get something done. For the first time that day, she ties her hair up in a high ponytail - she crinkles her nose as she scans the area. She probably looked a little too much like a 60’s witch from her favorite sick day show - but, she can’t help herself. Libby always felt a little smarter when she was acting like somebody else. "Sloane - you look over by the hot dog cart. Case, you should probably take the space behind the ride, and I'll... Look everywhere else. I guess.

THE NARRATOR: It’s really a wonder the boardwalk even stays open, considering how careless some of the employees can be, but after a few minutes of searching for a stray key, our little slice of the gang finds their hands on one. They unlock the gate with ease and all pile in toward the Carousel; eager to get their hands on that ominous little magazine.

The cover of the Cherry Bomb is collaged with photos of Lux, the inside? Crime scene photos. There’s no pictures of her body, of course - that would be crude, even for the Candy Girl… kind of. But images of the blood soaked into her carpet; still pictures of her bedroom, flaunting a life once lived, those are there. A shot of her suicide note, ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ and all.

And right there, in the middle of the spread, like a centerfold? A note, written in Sharpie - just for our ragtag little slice of the gang.

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO.

BUT WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT! YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK! LET IT RUN OUT, AND THEY’LL STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

YOU’RE NOT LOCKED IN, BUT IT’S STILL ON YOU! FIND THE KEY, OR THIS FRIEND DIES TOO.

THE NARRATOR:  Oh...my. Now, that’s quite the predicament, isn’t it? I suppose we’re at least lucky that the Candy Girl leaves the rules simple, right? Find a key, and maybe she doesn’t kill one of your friends. Maybe.

MAKE A CHOICE: ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED AND LOCKED AWAY IN A BOX. YOU MUST FIND THE KEY TO SAVE THEM. DO YOU LOOK FOR CLUES [PROBLEM SOLVING], OR SEARCH FOR A KEY WILDLY [LUCK - HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARD]?

SLOANE:  Despite the rising heart rate that Sloane is sporting after looking through that shiny new issue of the Cherry Bomb and the revelation of this new note, she's standing tall, directing the other two. "Divide and conquer, like before. There have gotta be clues around here somewhere... she dropped this from the roof, maybe there's something else." Sloane's boots carry her around the perimeter of the Carousel as she searches for something, anything to give an indication of who is in the box and a way to find this damn key.

THE NARRATOR:  Look for clues. Good idea, Sloane! They split up, but maybe it's better that way.

Libby  stays focused on the sharpie scribbled riddle in the ‘zine while the other two search the operator’s booth up and down for something useful. Not so useful, but strange enough to take note of? A cherry red briefcase, shoved into one of the dusty, storage lockers. Not only that… but maybe there’s actually more to the note than they thought.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST FIGURE OUT THE PUZZLE. ADMIN EM IS HERE TO HELP, BUT MAYBE TRY THE WELCOME DESK TO START.

SLOANE: With shaky hands, Sloane reaches for the briefcase, after staring at the damn riddle for what felt like so long the words had ceased to make sense. She input their first attempt at cracking the code: 3142.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS!

THE NARRATOR: With the numbers all in the correct order, the briefcase pops open rather easily. They find a key, but along with it, our little gang sees a mess of wires, something that looks like a keyhole, a clock ticking down…. And a note.

CANDY GIRL:  ANOTHER SURPRISE  - AND THIS WILL BE FUN - I GOTTA GO, I GOTTA RUN! BUT BEFORE I DO, I PLANTED A BOMB! AND IT WILL BLOW UP WHEN THE TIMER SAYS ONE!  SO, FIND A NEW KEY, TRY OUT THE LOCK! SEE IF YOU CAN DISARM IT -  BEAT THE CLOCK! BUT IF YOU DON’T - AND YOU DON’T GO BOOM -  THEN ENJOY THE INTERROGATION ROOM!

WHERE TO FIND THE KEY? THAT’S A DIFFERENT STORY. I’M TALL, AND I’M ROUND, AND I’M SLOW, AND I’M BORING! I’M FAR AWAY, SO YOU’LL HAVE TO SPRINT, BUT IF YOU’RE RIGHT, YOU WON’T TAKE THE HIT. YOUR SECOND OPTION? MERRY GO ROUND! CLIMB ALL THE WAY UP! OR SOMEONE WILL DROWN. THE KEY COULD BE THERE, THE KEY COULD BE NOT… OH, WELL, FIND OUT! OR MAYBE YOU’LL ROT.

THE NARRATOR: Well, the threat is clear. They must solve the riddle, get the second key, and disarm the bomb before the timer runs out… if they don’t, the whole thing might be coming down. And they might just go down with it.

CASEY:  A bomb. They were now dealing with a bomb. The words barely have a chance to register in his mind before they're all scrambling to work out what the words on the paper mean and how to save their friend. With his heart still in his mouth, it barely feels like it has a moment to settle before he's spluttering out, "it has to be the ferris wheel, right?" Looking at both of his friends for their sign of agreement.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU HAVE DECIDED TO GO TO THE FERRIS WHEEL. NOW YOU MUST DECIDE WHO SPRINTS THERE BEFORE THE TIMER RUNS OUT. [STRENGTH, FIGHTER, BRAVERY.]

CASEY: With the agreement of his friends - he's bolting off. Barely a thought running through his head other than the knowledge that he has to get to the ferris wheel before the timer ticks down to zero. Their friendship circle has suffered enough with Lux's death without adding in a casualty at the hands of Candy Girl. Scrambled together with the thought that he's lost enough family over the years, too. So, it's sheer brute force that gets him through the sprint, running like his own life depends on it because... well... it kinda does. With the ferris wheel in sight, he hopes he will make it in time.

THE NARRATOR: Heart racing, chest aching; adrenaline pulsing through his veins, but somehow  he finds the key hanging from the Ferris’ Wheel’s gate like a prize less than two minutes later. With that in his hands, he just has to sprint all the way back to the carousel to save his friends. 

It should be just as easy - it has to be - but maybe the pressure of getting back in time is getting to his head, because on the way back… Casey stumbles. It’s not it’s the wipeout of the century, but it certainly shaves some time off of that fucking timer in the briefcase. Not to mention some skin off of his face -- and is that blood dripping down his collar? Fuck. 

MAKE A CHOICE:  MODERATE SUCCESS. THE GANG HAS SUFFERED A TIME PENALTY DUE TO CASEY’S STUMBLE.

THE NARRATOR: They  have the key, and now they just have to disarm that fucking bomb. It seems simple enough… But it would probably be better if whoever did it was calm. Or good at problem solving. Or just… Really, really, really good at surviving bleak situations. Any takers?

MAKE A CHOICE: SOMEONE HAS TO DISARM THE BOMB [CALM, PROBLEM-SOLVING, SURVIVOR.]

SLOANE: Sloane has dealt with many a crisis, but none so bad as this one, when lives are on the line and there's a god damn bomb in a briefcase like they're in a cheesy 80s action flick. Taking a deep breath, she takes the key from Casey, worried eyes having to fight to not focus in on his injury. They don't have time. They have to do this. "I can do it." She assures them both, steadying her hands and clenching her jaw as she lifts the key towards the keyhole steadily. "Fuck it." She mutters as she tries the one they've retrieved.

THE NARRATOR:  Holy shit. Holy shit.

THE NARRATOR: I can believe this one is really happening.

THE NARRATOR: The three of them held their breath - Casey and Libby watched while Sloane went for the lock with only 30 seconds left on the timer… only to drop it.

It was the fumble of the century - the sound of the key falling into the hidden mechanisms of the carousel like a taunt - and as the clock counted down, they knew they only had one choice… 

The three of them took off running as hard as they could - their lives depended on it, after all - and though it was a mighty effort, they didn’t make it far enough not to be blown off of their feet. They all land in a pile together; beaten, broken… And absolutely fucked when only minutes later, the Boardwalk Police come running.

They expect for handcuffs to be thrown onto the three of them, but as Dean Hargrove comes running up behind them, he instructs them only to arrest Sloane.

He had known Casey and Libby since they were both kids, after all. They were his son’s best friends. How was he supposed to believe that they had something to do with this over the Salt girl? Libby and Casey try to protest, but it’s no use. Sloane is going with them to the police station, and… that’s that.

The day hadn’t been busy-busy until Mac  began setting up with the rest of the band - the perfect time for a Boardwalk employee to approach him!  Everything seemed to be going smoothly - at least from Mac’s end - but the employee insists that as the frontman of the band, a cord from the basement must be grabbed for his microphone. Mac doesn’t argue much - there’s no time to argue - he just needs to get back as soon as he can. @romxnticss​

The sun has been fixing it’s way over the horizon for what felt like far too long, but somehow the Minute-Makeover booth was still a-buzzing. Curling irons here, Mascara there - but somewhere within the chaos, a Boardwalk worker managed to grab Caria by the shoulder. Her mother was busy with a client, but the Boardwalk worker insisted that paperwork must be retrieved from a clerk in the basement, and it must be retrieved now - lest they pack up the booth ASAP. Caria hardly gets a look at the person - they walk away before any questions can be asked, but apparently it’s important that Caria gets to the basement as soon as she can. @manncquin​

A boardwalk employee grabs Noah by the shoulder as he’s walking down Roller Coaster Row - a little shocking, to say the least, but all is explained when the employee mentions Ronnie Russell and his need for Noah’s assistance ASAP. Apparently, there’s some table in the boardwalk basement that he needed to fetch for the booth they were setting up outside of the Main Stage. Don’t know why they asked Noah when they could have asked Casey, but… he better hurry. @thewriter-noah​

THE NARRATOR: Reunions were supposed to be pleasant occasions, weren’t they? They were supposed to bring feelings of joy, and nostalgia; you were supposed to forget the awkward haze that had plagued your senior year of high school, and just… pretend like the good old days were actually just that. Good. Absence did make the heart grow fonder and all that, didn’t it? Though, maybe it’s silly to wonder why this little reunion, in the service basement of the Boardwalk, might not be so pleasant. It had only been a week ago that they were all huddled into another basement together, after all. Playing at the whims of a suspected lunatic, and baring their souls - and their tongues - to each other. Not even ‘a Day in Carousel Cove!’ could smooth over that awkward little blip, could it? Still, the three of them made their polite, familiar conversation. Mac laments about being late for his set, and Caria makes some excuse about having to get back to her mother… Noah may or may not be wondering why he’s there at all! But the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking from the far end of the room should be enough to cease all wonder. Jinkies, kiddos! Wonder what’s in store for you this time. NOAH: Noah would be lying if he said, having come down initially to find Mac and Caria in the basement alone hadn't set off some vibes that left him feeling sick to his stomach. While it didn't look like he'd walked in on anything especially scandalous, and their reasoning for being there all seemed legit, thoughts of what had happened between Caria and his brother crowded his mind as he began his search for the table. It wasn't like he'd ever suspected anything between she and Mac but the mistrust had it's way of playing out all sorts of scenarios in his head. At the sound of the door closing he paused as he gave a quick glance up in it's general direction before looking back to see if by chance the other two had left without so much of a word. "Did either of you find what you were looking for?" He asked shortly when he noticed they were both still there, feigning certain his uneasiness was playing tricks on him. THE NARRATOR: Just as Noah speaks, a clock in the corner of the room strikes 7:30pm, as does the watch of a masked figure, just outside the door. It’s time! But for what, exactly?

A moment later,  Dean Hargrove’s voice fills the room like a ghostly echo from the stage - welcoming the citizens to the boardwalk, and more... but just as suddenly as his voice appeared, he’s cut off by a voice they don’t quite recognize. A voice that might just damn them all.

CANDY GIRL: “REST IN PEACE TO OUR DEAR OLD LUX, BUT I HAVE NEWS THAT THE CHERRY TIMES IS TOO SCARED TO TELL! THIS WAS NO SUICIDE. LUX WAS MURDERED. THE QUESTION IS - WHICH ONE OF HER FRIENDS DID IT?”

THE NARRATOR: It was hard to imagine a chill didn’t run down the whole of Cherry’s spine at the implication; hard to imagine that her friends weren’t disgusted by it… Or at least acting disgusted.

CANDY GIRL:  “AND TO THAT LITTLE GANG! MAKE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE LATEST ISSUE. SOMEONE IS MISSING, AND YOU’RE THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN FIND THEM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE. GOOD LUCK!”

THE NARRATOR: It would have been impressive timing if it weren’t so fucking frightening, but at just that moment, their very own issue of the Cherry Bomb slides beneath the door. It skids to a stop, right at their feet. 

The cover is collaged with photos of Lux - the inside? Crime scene photos. There’s no pictures of her body, of course; that would be crude, even for the Candy Girl - kind of - but images of the blood soaked into her carpet. Still pictures of her bedroom, flaunting a life once lived: those are there. A shot of her suicide note, ‘I’m sorry, I love you,’ and all.

And right there, in the middle of the spread, like a centerfold? A note, written in Sharpie - just for our ragtag little slice of the gang.

CANDY GIRL: GET OUT,,, GET OUT, WHEREVER YOU’RE LOCKED!!!! NOT A FAN OF SMALL SPACES?? I’LL STICK YOU IN A BOX. SOMEONE IS MISSING, BUT I WON’T SAY WHO… FIND THE KEY, AND FIND OUT WHO. 

BUT WATCH OUT, WATCH OUT! YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK! LET IT RUN OUT, AND THEY’LL STAY IN THE BOX. WILL THE TIDE COME IN? HMM, MAYBE IT WON’T. OR BETTER YET? MAYBE YOUR FRIENDS WILL FLOAT.

THE NARRATOR: Oh...my. Now, that’s a predicament, isn’t it?

I suppose we’re at least lucky that the Candy Girl leaves the rules simple, right? Find a key. Get out of the room, and… Maybe she doesn’t kill one of your friends. Maybe

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU MUST ESCAPE THE ROOM, BUT HOW DO YOU IT? THERE HAS TO BE A KEY SOMEWHERE, SO HOW DO YOU FIND IT? BY LOOKING FOR CLUES [PROBLEM SOLVING] OR BY TEARING THE ROOM APART? [LUCK]

CARIA: Unquestioning dutifulness used to be chief among Caria's virtues, or at least it must have been, looking back. Not dutifulness out of any sort of filial affection but the point still stands: she's always done what's been asked of her. As it was, she barely blinked at the matter of paperwork. It checked out-- usually her mother has people to deal with the administrative side of things but a legal team for a day at the Boardwalk seemed overkill even to the unendingly ostentatious woman. And given the company Caria's ended up in the basement, she's all too happy to stay all the way adrift in her thoughts. Even the click of the door isn't enough to pull her back to reality. What is enough, however, is the unwelcome broadcast. 

She's never been good with these kinds of things. Maybe there's a way to look around at the small details and figure things out that way, but unfortunately how good she looked in tweed and faked a British accent had no real correlation to how closely her thinking could mirror Sherlock Holmes'. So, she does what she's only ever really let herself do in her imagination: She starts pulling the room apart haphazardly, hoping something helpful will happen upon her if she's desperate enough.

MAC: In twenty years, Mac had never exactly found himself in any high pressure situations. Perhaps it came from living with a self-proclaimed former hippie, or the fact that it was hard to build any real sort of stress in a record store, but regardless- he never saw himself stuck in the middle of this sort of thing. While his first reaction had been to head for the door the moment he heard Dean Hargrove's voice, still preoccupied with missing Mystic Cherry's set, the realization that they were trapped had slowly but surely sank into his brain. There's a pause as Caria starts tearing things apart, a moment to let his panic sink in, before he's starting on the other side of it, desperate for a way out and to the rest of their friends.

THE NARRATOR: In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to just start tearing the room apart. Mac and Caria look for nearly fifteen minutes - maybe twenty - as the chaos of everyone else’s night unfolds on ground level above them. They’re losing time, and coming up empty - it’s time for a new plan. 

The Candy Girl is cunning, and cold, after all. Meticulous. She wouldn’t be the type to just leave something where anyone could find it… Maybe. Looks like they’re playing Mystery Gang on this one.

MAKE A CHOICE: FAILURE. THE GANG HAS SUFFERED A TIME PENALTY DUE TO THIS ACTION. IT WILL NOW BE HARDER TO GET OUT.

THE NARRATOR: Looks like they're going to need clues to get out. Noah  stays focused on the sharpie scribbled riddle in the ‘zine while Mac and Caria raid the room for something useful. Not so useful, but strange enough to take note of? A cherry red briefcase, shoved into one of the dusty, storage lockers. Not only that… but maybe there’s actually more to the note than they thought.

MAKE A CHOICE: TRY THE CODE. 

NOAH: This was it. The first interaction with the allusive Candy Girl since the night of Lux's funeral but instead of having them all making out with one another she was sending them on some wild goose chase. Noah could barely control the slight trembling in his fingers as he attempted to put the code into the briefcase they'd found. Normally such steady hands with a pen couldn't find peace as he recalled the box that had arrived at his door only a week before. MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. SORRY.

MAC: Mac wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to know what was inside the briefcase, though his fear of whats inside soon turns into a fear of not being able to get inside as he watches Noah struggle. Quietly he takes the briefcase into his own shaking hands, inputting 2-1-3-4. MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. SORRY.

CARIA: Caria frowns and puts in 3421.

MAKE A CHOICE: WRONG CODE. 

NOAH: Noah took the box again and worked the numbers until they read 3-1-4-2.

MAKE A CHOICE: SUCCESS.

THE NARRATOR: The briefcase pops open and reveals a coppery key. Someone should probably try it in the door!

NOAH: Hearing the sound of the briefcase pop open came with a strange sense of relief as Noah pulled the key from the briefcase. "Jesus.." He whispered mostly to himself as he glanced back at Mac and Caria and made a point of dad jogging over to the door. The adrenaline still racing through his veins as he tried the key in the door.

THE NARRATOR: The key doesn’t even turn, and just like that… defeat rings through the room all over again. Wait, unless -

MAKE A CHOICE: TURN THE KEY OVER AND TRY IT THE OTHER WAY? [LUCK - HIGH RISK, HIGH REWARD]

NOAH: Noah paused, contemplating as he felt the key unwilling to move and made the decision to pull it back out of the door. "It's no fuckin good. They're toying with us. This isn't going to let us out." He said frustration thick in his voice as he shot a look to both Mac and Caria. "Any other hints we missed?"

THE NARRATOR: The sound of the clock ticking in the corner of the room is almost ominous as it continues on in it’s effort; keeping a steady beat to their struggle. They have to get out, or someone gets hurt… They have to beat the clock, but how long did they have exactly? And beyond that - how long would they be stuck down here until somebody found them? 

Maybe the door wasn’t so sturdy. It seemed old enough: they could try to break it down. There’s windows - high up, but windows nonetheless. They could climb it, if they needed to. 

And if desperation really struck? Well, they could always scream for help.

MAKE A CHOICE: HOW WILL YOU GET OUT? BREAK DOWN THE DOOR [STRENGTH], CLIMB THROUGH A WINDOW [FIGHTER], OR SCREAM FOR HELP [CHARISMA.]

CARIA: Caria gives a dubious look to her companions but seems to gather some kind of resolve. "If I could just get up through the window, I could get us out," she reasons with an uncommon amount of confidence to her voice, "Can you hoist me?" And then she tries to climb up with the others' help.

THE NARRATOR: If only Cherry High’s gym teacher could see Caria now! To coach her through the proper hand holding technique they had all learned during rock-climbing week. It’s a noble effort as she makes it halfway up the wall, but as a shelf tips forward, Caria topples backward. In the blink of an eye, she’s on her back in the middle of the room - a loud crack sounding from her shoulder.That’s definitely broken.

The other two crowd their Caria, trying to comfort her - promising they’d get her help as soon as they could. But it’s no use. Nobody knows where to find them; nobody can hear them. And nobody is coming for them.

MAKE A CHOICE: YOU'VE FAILED YOUR PLOT EVENT.

CANDY GIRL: But wait! Who is that handsome boy in the back? Mackenzie Walsh Looks like my favorite boy has another shot. Let’s go, Lover Boy!

THE NARRATOR: Seriously? Fine! They had only been in here for a half an hour - maybe a little more - but somehow it felt like centuries. They were beaten, and broken down… They had fallen right into the Candy Girl’s trap, and like mice in a lab, there was no escape. Maybe. They could always keep screaming for help - but then again, what was the use?

MAKE A CHOICE: LOOKS LIKE YOU GOOFED IT - BUT YOU HAVE A SECOND SHOT. DO YOU ADMIT DEFEAT [SELFISHNESS] OR DO YOU KEEP TRYING TO SCREAM? [LUCK HIGH RISK - HIGH REWARD]

CARIA: There was no point, was there? Some tiny part of Caria insisted it wasn't, and yet it had to be. Her shoulder wasn't even what bothered her most. Even if she could get out (but what reason did she have to have ever hoped she could pull off some heroics?) it was undeniable that whoever was in that box never knew or liked her to the level she hoped. Probably, they blamed her for her relationship with Harvey falling apart, for Casey feeling hurt, for Lux dying. They were not her friends. They were unlikely to even like her that much Caria, who had been unintentionally tearing down others left and right, fostering nothing but ill-will. She felt humiliated, which was bad enough on its own but doubly so heaped in a pile in front of Noah, who probably hated her, and Mac, who probably would shortly. 

Why was she even doing this? How could she go back to the group day after day and pretend she belonged? Even if she swallowed her pride and went through the motions for the sake of retaining her place among them, Candy Girl knew the truth, which meant maybe others knew the truth, which meant she would have to sit there as the villain pushing others to suicide. She's crying. Of course she is. Messy, gasping sobs, as though she's been held too long underwater. "I can't do this. Let's not do this. I can't-" she tries to utter while struggling to breath through her crying, "No more."

THE NARRATOR: Maybe it was wrong to just sit down and let it happen to them, but what were they supposed to do? They were beaten down and broken… they had tried so hard, and failed. Why not just say, fuck it?

Half an hour goes by that feels like an eternity. Their friend quietly crying in pain; anxiety on high. Mac trying not to cry, himself. 

But the sound of footsteps from down the hall piques their interest. The sound of their voices all mix in one as they call out for help, and only a minute later is someone turning a key into the door lock.