((Forgive for how choppy or incoherent the post may seem, I'm just trying to get Clio moving along so I don't make this death way more overdue than it already it, and it is 5 in the morning here...))
Squinting through the darkness, semi-darkness, whatever it wanted to be called, Clio realised she was awake again. Waking up was hard to do, and having to place yourself in that brief moment when you're still asleep was even harder. Senses overclocked. They registered everything. Mansion, sweat, skin, silence, and...that smell of body odor and fluids that only lingered after sex.
Her and Maxwell. That happened for real. It wasn't just some neurotic fans dream of a couple coming true, it was real. She and him actually had sex.
Sex in front of millions of people.
...this does not bode well for my reputation as a cold killer, now does it?
What happened just then with Maxwell, as she tried her best to wake up fully in his arms, was something that should have stuck to fiction. If this were a story, it was bound to happen. But this wasn't just a story, it was real, a woman's life. Hell, not even a woman, a girl. It's one of those decisions you can't really make on the fly like that, just deciding to have sex with someone who had the opportunity to kill you at any given moment.
Well, that was it, really. It was only in those places that the consequences really mattered. When it was a purely innocent victim that was in her place, not the calculated mind of a murderess. And no, she didn't just decide to have sex with him on the fly.
It was all about proving something to herself, just proving that she...she wasn't just another female killer. She wasn't a Mariavel, a Clemence, or Melina. She was attractive, like everyone of those before her, but what lay underneath that beautiful skin was...
...Jesus, what am I going on about? I sound like a Shakespeare monologue, that's just stupid.
So the facts had to be set straight. The only reason she had sex with him was because a) she was in that mood and b) she just wanted to prove she still had it in her to make men fall for her. There wasn't any subtextual meaning behind that crap, no ulterior motives, just a plain old fuck that would mean nothing tomorrow. Not to her at least, she didn't know what he was thinking while the Brit boy slept.
Her eyes started to blink in rapid succession, as she tried to fully wake up. The darkness fell to the wayside and gave way to some real light, some semi-darkness. The two naked teenagers in the mansion bed became one naked teenager in a mansion bed as Clio slipped out of his arms and crept over to her bag.
In her hands were two things. One was her good old trusty James Bond gun, the other was Maxwell's own gun. Thing was, she knew that no matter how much fun she had, fun was no substitute for the game. It was like a reality show; the best players always knew that there was no downtime, and made sure that they could always be a step above the rest of the pack. So taking a weapon from him, something she knew for a fact that he had in plenty, was just a necessary action for her own advantage.
Of course, the moment she got to her bag, Danya decided to ruin her fun.
It was open, and that was what made it easy. They slipped out of her hands and tumbled into the cramped space of her bag and turned invisible. Instead of standing there, looking mightily suspicious, she instead snapped her hands down towards her bag of clothes and whipped out a fresh new set of clothing. She got a new pair of underwear and bra, a knee-high black skirt, and a shoulder-less purple top that her mother had a fit over. Oh dear Maria, the woman who called herself her mother, what a fit she must be having now. Her own daughter, the one she loved, a psycho, a slut, and a killer all at once! Carrying on the family name would be such an effort...
She didn't need to look to the probably-conscious Maxwell to know that Danya's second announcement for the evening was a one-way ticket from Dreamland to anyone wearing their sensible shoes. So she didn't rush herself, make it look too suspicious. Clio managed to get her panties on before the continuous mumbling of an overweight sadist was drowned out momentarily by the one, the only.
Her face was planted with a smile, and she spun around to face Maxwell, at the same time putting on her new bra.
"I was just about to head off, probably pick off someone unlucky to stay around here. I was never one to stick around and cuddle after sex. You didn't look like one either."
This rapid-fire explanation wasn't that forced, since all she had to do was kinda neglect the fact that she was robbing his unconscious belongings while he lay post-coitus. Maybe she forgot about it. He'd figure it out sooner or later, the former not really preferable in this situation.
And yes, she was thinking the same thing as he was. There was no way in hell they were teaming up to work off some crime-commiting duo angle, it'd never work. So many flaws in that plan, a plan that hadn't even been drawn up yet.
Not that she contemplated it while she got her skirt on. What she was contemplating was something along the lines of "does this guy ever stop thinking about killing?" The moments following his compliment to her...prowess...he started talking about one of his kills. He wasn't trying to impress her again, was he? There wasn't any need for that right now, since she'd already seduced him into bed, so what was the point of going on about killing?
...could he actually be enjoying this?
"You know, its funny... I was just thinking about which was more fun, making love or killing people. And you know what, I think murder might just be a little more satisfying."
Yep, he was definitely enjoying this.
If he was that far gone already, she'd give him about...4-5 days, tops? There was no way someone as crazy as him was making it to the end in one piece. If you enjoyed killing as much as he did, you were lost no matter how far you made it. Her, on the other hand, killed because it had to be done. She was a heartless she-devil, but she wasn't a psychotic she-devil. There was no thrill, no perverse sexual lust out of killing people.
Maybe that was why it would never have worked out in the long run. They were just too different a player, when it came down to it.
But she didn't say this to him, because while they were both killers, he was the only armed one right there. She mouthed off to him, any of that cliched little "You're mad" stuff and she was a goner. She stayed silent, smiling, and the events following flashed by like wildfire.
She got some good wine.
She got a good promise.
She got one last tender kiss.
And then he was out of her life forever.
Clio slipped her top on, and giggled. Finally, it was her mansion again.
Her hands ventured back into that bag of hers, and pulled out her newest weapon. It was a gun, a nice one. She didn't take any ammo with it, so whatever was left inside of it was what was left for good. Could have only been a few bullets, compared to the 30 or so left with her gun, but she still had a pretty good gun.
A slight rumbling feeling erupted in her stomach, and Clio resisted the urge to throw up. Five days of nothing but bread and crackers waged war on the immune system, especially where nutrients were concerned. Still, it's not like she had anything else to eat with her, she'd only taken enough of Danya's rations to feed an army. It was all starch, and wheat, and whatever else, and hot damn was it unappetising after a few days.
Rather than just leave right away, or merely accept the fact that she wasn't gonna get a nice piece of fruit out of midair, Clio looked around at the doorway of the room, the source of one of the more repugnant smells in her lifetime. A rotting body was toxic fumes eating away at...stuff, she didn't care at the moment when she had a goal in mind.
Clio's hands grasped around the girl's pockets, her pants, everywhere she could find.
piece of food.
It would have made more sense to just sigh and give up, but instead, Clio grunted loudly, and threw a kick at the waist of the body. Fucking bitch didn't even have the decency to burst in unannounced with some proper food on her.
What the hell, I don't need some dead body to find food. There's probably something I can eat out there, in the forests. Fruit, flower, berry, anything's possible.
A few minutes later, she was set, like a little girl about to go on a hunting trip. Walking out of the room, not even bothering to dodge stepping on the dead girl's face (Clio heard a loud crack, and assumed her nose broke), she wasn't just a hunter. She was a predator, about to go after some of the best meat on the island.
Two large, open, mansion doors flew open in the night sky, and Clio Gabriella strode out, ready to carve her name back into the minds of every student out there.
((The Final Act