[Week 2, Saturday: Max]

[purrtagonist]

[HEY MAX I KNOW THIS ISN'T OUR WEEKLY PC, BUT--]

Seven?

You were kidding, right? That was a joke, to throw off the Players?

Comments

[purrtagonist]

. . .

[right. of course. another breath to steel himself, to pull himself together to ask better questions]

What is their role in this game? Are they tasked with killing Players as well?

[concertmaster]

I think you can guess what they're trying to do without needing me to spell it out for you.

[purrtagonist]

[he has to take a moment to let it sink in. to really think about how trials have gone thus far, to think about what he knows about the game, and compare it to his newfound knowledge that there are seven of them left]

They're sniffing us out.

[he stars slowly]

A "helpful" role to the Players, as opposed to our "hurtful" one.

[. . .]

[concertmaster]

Bingo. Of course, for Players, there's no difference. A Reaper's a Reaper. They catch one of those, I'd tell them the same thing I do one of you.

[purrtagonist]

[hhhhhholy shit]

[tilts his head back, fingers raking through his bangs. he feels like he just had the wind knocked out of him]

Do the Players need to catch those Reapers too, to end the game?

[concertmaster]

Players have to catch all Reapers to end the Game. Or, again, eight fucking weeks, but I've said that deadline enough.

[purrtagonist]

[fucking]

[hell]

And is their win condition the same as ours? Last until the end of the game, or reduce the number of Players below the population of present Reapers?

Or is it different?

[concertmaster]

[honestly. he is not supposed to say this? he is player aligned? but.

but.

okay he kinda likes akira. a little. fuck off.]

[he points to him]

With what they're doing. You can probably guess what their win condition is slated to be.

[and he makes a swiping motion across his own neck]

[purrtagonist]

[thanks Max he likes you too]

[he's just an internal mind theater of AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA right now]

. . . eradicating us.

Or. . . if they die after eradicating us, do they still win?

[concertmaster]

You're thinking the Game continues if their group wins. I didn't say anything about that.

[purrtagonist]

[ah]

[it's all suddenly slotting into place]

Three distinct groups. Three win conditions. Three ways to end the game.

Tell me, Max. Is only one group allowed to win? Is that why the Composer can't tell us how many people will earn their second shot at life?

[because only the people in the winning group will get it?]

[concertmaster]

[with a frustrated huff:]

I can't tell you more about the Composer's endgame. And there's four ways to end the Game. If you reach the time limit.

[purrtagonist]

[ah, right. the time limit. a frustrated huff of his own, but he's trying]

Now that we know there's a way to save those already Erased, you can't tell me what it is either, can you?

[. . .]

[concertmaster]

[there's a second where he's looking a bit deadpan before he sighs and moves on:]

Nope, I sure fucking can't. Things go on as they are, it won't matter anyway.

[purrtagonist]

[and finally, a bit of lightheartedness, although it's in a deadpan tone of his own]

Listen, I just had this huge bombshell dropped on me, you can't blame me for asking a bunch of questions.

What do you mean it won't matter?

[concertmaster]

There's two of you left, Joker. I know you can count.

[that's condescending, max]

The other Reapers win, that's how the Game ends. You know we judge Players based on performance. How do you think it'll look if they end without catching a single one of those Reapers?

[purrtagonist]

[listen, he knows there's only two of them, and it's giving him anxiety, trust him]

Extremely bad.

[does't take a genius to figure that out. hesitation, before he asks. . .]

Will it help them if we-- if we. . . [god] Target those Reapers for the Players?

[he can't believe he's suggesting this]

[concertmaster]

[wow.]

Didn't think you had it in you to even suggest that kind of thing. [and then he just... shrugs] Maybe? It wouldn't make things any fucking worse, honestly.

[purrtagonist]

[barks out a laugh, but it's so self-deprecating]

I didn't think I had it in me to set Enoshima on fire after she burned a woman to death, and yet.

[spreads his arms wide. HERE WE ARE]

. . . don't misunderstand, that isn't what I want to do. [drops his arms to his sides again] If anything, I'd prefer to work with them than against them.

[but he's already aware that they have exactly zero incentive to accept such an offer]

[concertmaster]

[...]

We all do shitty things to survive the Game.

[he sighs]

I can't advise you on a course of action. Player adviser and all that shit. But you should talk to your Conductor about all of this crap. She might have more info for you.

[purrtagonist]

[we all do shitty things to survive the Game. he feels like his survival is getting less and less certain by the day]

All right. I'll do just that.

Thanks, Max.

[he means that. truthfully]

[concertmaster]

Don't... thank me.

[he also means that, truthfully]

[purrtagonist]

[. . . ?]

Why not?

[concertmaster]

You realize I'm literally obligated to throw you under a bus if it comes down to it, right? My job in this Game isn't to help any of you.

[purrtagonist]

Yep. Considering how many times you've done that already. And that one time you told me you couldn't tell me about the Player boons.

[HE GETS IT]

But you're still helping me when you can. That means sometimes.