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    Police Report #2457-689 -Sgt. Phillip R. Rockefeler
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    Nature of accident:
    Fatal
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    Special Notes:
    Car Wreck, Victim may have failed to pay attention. Oddly enough, witnesses to the accident seem to confirm that the driver of the Brown Sedan that hit the victim was looking almost directly at the deceased before collision.
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    Description:
    Teenager run down by possibly disoriented driver on his way to meet friends after school, Witnesses claim that the driver must have seen him coming.
    Perpetrator seems to be in a state of mentally repressive amnesia.
    When interrogated, he claimed factors of his identity “Escaped him.”
    Supporting his claim, the man has taken several polygraph tests which read in his favor.
    He is to be put on trial in approx. 3 months.

    The victims friends and family were brought in to help identify the body.
    He was confirmed as 17 year old T.J Rockwell, son of Vincent Rockwell and his late spouse Erika Rockwell.

    To the surprise of many, among his belongings was a note bequeathing his cell phone to his closest friend, 18 year old Martin Reed, should his untimely death occur.

    The transfer of the HTC Evo Design 4g has been made, but the boy refused to put it back in service.
    Understandable.

    The boy’s father Vincent has begun paying for shock and grief therapy for the friends of his deceased son.
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    “ Well, I hope you’re satisfied with yourself.” The voice of a distraught girl echoed across a parking lot. “You just condemned an innocent man to life in a psych ward. I don’t care what the hell you think you’re doing... If you destroy ONE more innocent life for your own amusement, you can forget the damn pact we made!”

    Surprisingly enough, her companies laughter almost sounds sincere. Or perhaps... Perhaps it was his sincerity that made him seem like such a monster sometimes. He always seems to give this “Open Book” impression... It makes it hard to believe he isn’t hiding something.

    “It’s hardly MY fault, Sammy. Everyone who plays will have to do it eventually.” He smiles at her as though the act barely touched what little conscious she assumed he had left. “It’s him or us. You know that. Besides, he’d be happier this way.”

    “You’re a monster, Zach. I can’t believe you would do something like that. He had a wife and family. You have NO IDEA what it’s like to grow up without a father. NONE! NONENONENONENONENONE!”

    The girl’s anger had caused her to act out by mistake. Normally this would be an issue, as no one committing murder demands public attention. Of course, that’s only under normal circumstances... If it wasn’t painfully obvious by now, these two are hardly normal people. In Fact, they weren’t people at all. They were just another pair of pawns in the Queen’s Challenge...

    “How would you know?” The boys voice remained unchanged, his words spilled through his smile like a crude, black oil. “Before the challenge, we’d never spoken. You were just a girl I thought I’d saved.”

    “You shouldn’t have F%$*ing touched me! I would have been fine! It’s probably your fault I’m even here!”

    “I’m sorry. I only did what I thought would save everyone.” His expression was still as cool and calm as ever... It almost made him seem blank.

    “No one survived... They all...”
    “We’ve been over this. Not everyone can play the Queen’s Challenge. Only we were supposed to live that day. That’s why we’re here.”

    Her frustration at the boy turned to exhaustion. She was almost broken herself.
    Samantha Dawn Vespucci was, quite simply, fed up. Exhausted with all of these Challenges... All of these tests and adrenaline highs and... of Zach.

    Especially of Zach.

    But she had nowhere else to go... She would be alone without him.

    “Sammy... I know it’s hard... But it’s supposed to be. Not everyone deserves what we’re playing for...”

    Weakness could be heard ringing through her voice, Her words muttered on a shaky breath.

    “You certainly don’t.”

    “Come on, we’ve inserted a pawn to take my place. We need to find yo-”
    “No. I’m done playing. Not if this is what it costs.”

    His face barely moved, but displeasure could be made out from the crevices around his lips.

    “Sam, I-”

    “I’m not playing with you anymore. Please... Leave me.”

    The two shared eye contact for what almost felt like a century. Eventually, The boy realised she wouldn’t be swayed.

    At first, he began to wait for her...

    Minutes turned to hours. Confusion turned to disgust.

    How dare she just... quit.

    Nevermind. The boy was wrong. She doesn’t deserve to live... She was only a waste of his time and talent.

    He began to move away from her, each step louder than the last, as his shoes met the pavement. It wasn’t about until thirty feet of he looked back at her. Their eyes met one last time.
    Turning her face to the ground broke this. That was all the goodbye he was worth.

    Zach pulled his prize from his pocket.

    Inserting the key into it’s place on his arm, magnificent wings manifested from the blades of his shoulders. A few mighty sweeps, and he rose into the air and started out of sight.

    Sam leaned back against a tree, her legs collapsing beneath her as she slumps on to it’s base.
    At least she was rid of that creep... But now she had no chance of winning.
    His being a sociopath was probably what made him the challenger he was. At the end of the day, she was just... Too soft for this game.

    Lost in the breeze of the quiet town, Sam begins to think of what possibly brought the two of them together in the first place... Memories and faces glimmered on the back of petals her tree had lost to spring. She thinks back to simpler days, a quiet classroom shared with her friends. A quiet child, the newest amongst them smiles eerily, alone in a far corner. Another child breaks down a door.

    Smiles turn to tears.

    Gun in hand, he begins to take lives.
    Sam begins to shudder, the wind hiding her groans of anguish. She sees the same scene, every time her eyes close. Looking over her shoulder, she spots a coffee shop filled with children like her.
    Children like them.

    They all look of the same kind of grief... The kind only death can bring about.

    It’s cruel, the way fate works.
    Sometimes, it can even be ironic.

    After all, Sam was technically haunted by the visions of her dying friends.

    And what’s more ironic than people haunting a ghost?