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013. A GAME OF MARBLES ( chapter thirteen! ) ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᵈ ⁱˢ 'ᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ⁱ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗ, ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ - dark red, steve lacy
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AN ALARM SCREAMED overhead, the sound deafeningly loud in the stillness of the dormitory like a tornado siren echoing in a quiet ghosttown. The suddenness of it had Asuka shooting up from her thin slab of cushion as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice, cold water over her, her heart jumping up into her throat as she tried to process what was happening. For a moment there, in the disoriented mine frame she was brought on by being ripped out of the deepest part of sleep, she thought she was back at home. A brief shock of relief went through her, expecting her phone to be lying next to her and the alarm had simply been a wake up call to get ready for work, but as soon as her eyes cleared of the misty fog, she's greeted with the same nightmare.
All around her, various other contestants were pulled from the clutches of unconsciousness as well, eyes snapping open in alarm like an electric shock to the system just as the bright, artificial lights blinked on to signal them awake, however, the typical sound of classical music didn't come with it.
Instead, accompanied by the alarm still continuing to screech, was a handful of guards barging into the room like a SWAT team called to investigate a bomb threat. The sudden arrival caused Asuka to tense up, her muscles tightening as her eyebrows lowered into a frown of confusion at the organised, stiff and robotic men, guns raised and at the ready as they quietly moved throughout the room. She expected shouting, or an order, but instead just the sound of their thick, black boots marching across the blood-stained floor, and the automatic announcement cutting through the chaos being the only semblance of an answer past the thunderous siren, "All players, please line up immediately in the center."
Shock could barely register on Asuka's face, mind going completely blank to the point she couldn't even hear herself think as the soldiers spread out, each pair going off in different directions to investigate the leftover players huddled in their own groups. An uncomfortable amount of anxiety burned in her stomach as she watched the men point the barrel of their MP5's at the players in warning like they're a pack of cattle dogs herding sheep. Why the hell were they being rushed? Was the next game going to start? Where was the music?
The music had practically become an integral part of their mornings, and like everyone else, Asuka had become accustomed to their early wake up calls (or was it afternoon? Night? She couldn't tell when there wasn't a clock in sight), but they were also subtly being conditioned by it, too. As soon as they heard the music, it meant the games were going to begin shortly, and they needed to be ready. The little electric zip of panic that shot up their spine was enough coffee to kick start their day, much like a military morning routine in basic training — conditioned to be up and ready as soon as an alarm rang, there was no time for sleeping in.
