Andrew stood still, bloody mirror in hand, staring down at the body of Prince Dicer. What has he done? Every single Rabbit Killers will be out to kill him and not just for fun but for revenge as well. Maybe two or three will capture him at once- he will be cooked in Canny Benny’s soup while being asphyxiated by Flume Flame with carbon monoxide. He heard a noise. They were soft footsteps as if someone was moving in the hallways trying to reach him. What if the rest of the killers were in the warehouse with him right now? 

 As if to answer that question, the power switched on, making the whole warehouse come back to life with too much light. Andrew blinked and let his eyes adjust to the light. He looked for an escape route because he expected to be attacked by half a dozen killers. 

 Instead, a lean man, who looked around Andrew’s age, came in with the brightest blonde hair and more teeth that people should have. He stood over Dicer’s body, “Well, you just became the most notorious guy in the whole bloody world,” he said with a thick English accent. 

 “Stay away from me!” Andrew yells using the mirror, like a shield.

 The guy examined Andrew head to toe with his unnaturally green eyes. “Don't worry they stopped filming a while ago,” he says, trying to comfort Andrew.  

 He looked around, and the red lights were gone. “Oh,” was all he said. Was that a good thing? Bad thing? Damn, he should have paid more attention to the app. 

 “Well, you did go a bit, you know, psycho on him. Everyone really thinks you are a murderer and are afraid of you,” The guy says.

Andrew held the mirror tighter in his hands. He had been watching.       Was he the Rabbit? 

 He continues looking at Dicer’s body and looks up at Andrew. “ I am not one of them if that is what is worrying you,” he smiled, inviting his trust, but Andrew hesitated. 

 Points in his favor: he was not old enough to be a successful producer like the Rabbit was rumored to be. 

Points against him: he was just hanging around waiting for Andrew to get murdered or survive. And if he did live. Was this guy here to finish the job?

 Either way, his appearance in the warehouse is not comforting. He must keep his guard up. “Who are you?” 

Ignoring the question, Blonde Brit examined Dicer’s corpse, “Wow, I have not seen anything like this since Harry Ace broke Intoxicating Tox neck,” He whistled. “When the rabbit finds out, they will go nuts.”

 “Is that good?” His carefree attitude was pacifying. 

 He smiled charmingly. “All the Rabblers will be after you.” 

“Crap.” 

 He arched his eyebrows, “What do you think?” 

About him? About the fact, by some insane turn of events, he was still breathing and alive? About ten other executioners who were about to be unleashed and ready to kill him? 

 The man picked himself up and stepped closer, skillfully moving around Dicer’s hardening blood. “Rabblers,” he repeated. “It is a portmanteau of my own, rabbit mixed with killers. Do you think it will catch on, or should I hang back on the rabbit part? I was also thinking of Rabmanics for the fans.” 

 “Umm….” 

 His face dropped, disappointed at Andrew's disapproval. “It is a work in progress.” 

 Was this guy for real? “There is a dead man in a pool of his own blood a foot away from you, and you are worried about your hashtag?”

 The blonde guy sighed. “Sorry. I forgot. This is new for you. Personally, I loathe violence, but after a while you get insensible.” 

A while? “How long have you been here exactly?” 

“Eight months, 2 weeks, and 5 days,” he said without hesitation. 

Andrew’s eyes widened. He never heard of anyone surviving that long in Camp 2. 

 “Don't be impressed,” he said, reading his reaction. “My case is on appeal, so I am in the no-touch zone for the moment. That travesty of justice you Americans call a trial was over so quickly they did not even get a chance to find out who I am related to.” 

 Now it was Andrew arching his eyebrows, “The Queen?” 

 The blonde brit sorted. “Look at you! 'The Queen?'" he mocked.  “Certainly not. But my mother's aunt's first husband is the first assistant to the foreign minister. He filed an appeal on my behalf due to diplomatic immunity.” 

 “Oh,” it seemed like a believable story, but he could be full of crap and be another trap from Camp 2.

 “Actually,” Blondy Brit continued, “I am surprised he is even helping me in my conviction.” 

 Andrew stepped back and grabbed a shard of the mirror to defend himself with, “What were you convicted of?” 

Blondy’s face was unreadable. “I was convicted of killing my parents.” 

 See? Do not trust people on the island. It was a good slogan. Andrew was in a high-security prison, and not only was he being hunted by the Rabbit’s executioners, but her island mates were all convicted of atrocious crimes. She was literally surrounded by murderers.

 “I loved my parents.” His bright green eyes narrowed, his amiable manners disappeared. “Just like you loved your… friend, or was it your crush.”

 “My best friend and yes, my crush,” Andrew snapped, then he paused, “Wait, how did you know that?”

Blondy stepped in between Dicer’s body and Andrew, pulling something out of his pocket. Andrew stiffened, and his eyes darted to the nearest exit. Was he going to pull out a weapon? He held onto the mirror shard tightly. 

 But instead of the murderous sparkle of a recently sharpened blade, Andrew saw a piece of paper. 

 “Andrew Demant,” he read off the page. “Convicted of unpremeditated murder in the second degree. Victim: Kaden Peirce, 18, Best Friend.”

 The image of Kaden’s face, blue and swollen, flashed before Andrew’s eyes. He was the one who found the body, the one to call 911 as he hopelessly tried to administer first aid, even though she knew by the stiffness and how cold Kaden, Kaden was beyond help.  “I didn't kill him.”

 He had no idea why he felt like he should proclaim his innocence to this stranger, but the words just came out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

 “Of course you did not. We are all innocent on Camp 2.”

Sarcasm dripping from every word. He did not believe Andrew for a hot second. 

 But instead of saying Andrew was full of crap, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Shall we go?” 

 Andrew glanced at the Blonde and then at Dicer’s body. Was it a trap? “I am not going anywhere with you.” 

 He tilted his head, just like Dicer had done when he did not run into the maze. “Whyever not?” 

 His seriousness threw Andrew off. “I….” I think that you might be a psychotic killer? I do not trust you no matter how hot and cute your accent is? “ I do not even know your name.” 

 “Oh!” He smiled with his eyes closed, showing his dimples. “Sorry, I’m Myles.” He said and stopped as if that was enough explaining. 

 It wasn't. “And you’re here because….” 

 “Because my mandated job on the island is to introduce the new inmates to the island. They slip a paper, much like this one,” He said, dangling the refolded paper in the air, “shoved under my door. Though usually, I meet them at the gate or the guard station. This was the first time I was instructed to go to the Rabblers kill room. Must have been an admin mistake or something. Why would you need an orientation when you are going to die in your first hour? I mean, I was not going to show. Can you believe it?” He chuckled as if it were a funny joke. 

 “Yeah,” he said flatly, “funny.” 

 “I would’ve missed Dicer’s death.” He kept going like he missed or just ignored the sarcasm. “So, Andrew, do you have any nicknames?” 

 Were they friends now? “No.” 

 “Ah, I see,” Myles said, gazing at Andrew. “Come along then.” 

 Andrew did not trust him. He could choose to run through the Disney princess-themed booby-trapped filled maze, maybe run into killer frogs, crocodiles, maybe flying dishes.

 His other options; where to find a way out through the murderous maze or wait with Dicer’s body. Neither sounded too appealing. “Where are we going?” he asked, making his choice. 

 Myles smiled, showing his dimples, “Want an ice cream?”