Sudden Life

[Deamon]

((Gray Emerson continued from Under This Killing Moon))

The amount of animal heads on the walls could have represented the students that had died. There were enough of them that was for sure. Gray didn't even know how anyone could have hunted on the island. He had been on it for a long time and hadn't seen any sign of any other life other than his classmates. There were bodies. At this stage though Gray was used to them, as depressing as that was. He continued moving through the mansion. He had no idea what the layout was but spending time to learn it was taking his mind of other things.

Mainly his selfishness when it came to surviving. He had been so focused on finding all his friends he hadn't helped anyone else. Even then he hadn't tried very hard. He could have let Sean walk away and survive but he had shot him in the back instead. He could have gone after Corey or Andi when they'd split off from him. He could have let Matt and Finn stay in the house. He could have stopped Sean killing Ami. He had done all of it under the pretence of being 'good' and looking after people. Even if that was really the case it hadn't benefited anyone else. For a start he was still alive when nearly everyone else was dead. Throwing away his prize wasn't going to change that.

What did that make him? It certainly didn't make him a good guy. There was also the fact he enjoyed the adrenaline rush from being in life and death situations. It all added up to make him a fucked up person. Gray knew that now, maybe he had always known it. He had certainly never thought about it in as much detail before. It was funny how being so close to the end made him assess his actions. In the end though did any of it really matter? Gray couldn't say for sure because he didn't know what the end result would be.

Instead he was focusing on looking around the mansion. It was a distraction and he knew that but being alone with his thoughts was proving to be a tough experience. So he was grateful for anything that would take his mind off it. In truth he wasn't even learning the layout. He was just looking around like a tourist would. It was better than nothing though, Gray could admit that much.

[NotAFlyingToy]

((Hansel Williams, All I do is sell sincerity.))

With his upper body - head, hand, shoulder - a jumbled mass of pain and aching, Hansel moved towards the mansions, retracing his steps - those fateful footfalls that had led him to Leona and Joe and Michael - in seek of shelter. The thought of another encounter sent a weariness to his bones that permeated his body and made his steps heavier, harder.

He'd barely slept the past eleven days, surviving off of bottled water, self-revulsion, and adrenaline. But when those ran out, what would he be? How could he move forwards?

He'd been trying to ignore the what-ifs, the how-comes of his predicament. He'd killed because that's how you moved on - that's how you won. The alternative was dying, and dying wasn't something he was willing to consider. He'd tried his best to keep the kills quick, the deaths clean, no unecessary suffering.

But now, with so few of them alive, the thoughts crept in. How was he going to face the real world? If - when - he won, how was he going to get back home, sit down, and pick up where he left off?

They crowded his mind as he walked into the mansion, filled it, wrapped into his consciousness so that all he could see were the words, the queries, the myriad of jumbled confusion.

He didn't see Gray until it was almost too late.

[Deamon]

Gray knew there were still people alive he'd be an idiot not to consider that he'd be alone in the mansion forever. His ability to keep track of time was also deteriorating. So when he turned the corner and entered the room he wasn't surprised that there was someone there. He was surprised by who it was.

He had heard Hansel on the announcements again. It was almost routine. He looked like he had been through an extra week of hell though. The first thing Gray noticed was the bandages around the right side of Hansel's face. He could see the bloodstains on them. Whatever happened must have been nasty. The second thing was the two missing fingers on Hansel's left hand.

Gray didn't have the time for sympathy. He knew Hansel was dangerous. He started to raise the FAMAS from where it was dangling by his leg. If he was going to die he wasn't just going to roll over and accept it, hell if he took Hansel out that would count for something wouldn't it?

[NotAFlyingToy]

This was the way he lived now. One moment, wrapped in thought, served with serenity, some semblance of peace, a quiet musing. Interrupted by a boy or a girl who was armed with a gun, looking to end it all.

This time, the boy was Gray, and the gun was Hansel's.

Adrenaline - his old friend - heightened his senses as he tossed his bag, his Winchester, to the floor of the mansion and closed the distance between them. The Masden - never fired, never used - was drawn from the back of his waistband as he rushed at Gray, the pain in his face, hand, shoulder amplified and stretched, becoming a sharp agony that made him move faster, crazed.

As the gun - his gun - came up, Hansel raised his left club-like hand, smacking the barrel aside as he tried to push the Masden into Gray's throat.

[Deamon]

The FAMAS was knocked away, it flew out of Gray's hand and he heard it clatter to the floor.

The adrenaline was starting to flow. Gray embraced the rush as it swept over him. It actually felt good, almost like he was skating again. Hansel had a gun in his hand as he rushed in. Gray didn't know much about fighting but he knew about momentum and he knew Hansel had picked up a lot of it running at him.

Gray ducked and went for Hansel's legs. He felt the impact of Hansel's knee on his skull but it wasn't painful. It was softer than concrete so he welcomed it. The two of them fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Gray rolled and kicked Hansel away with his feet. The pain in his left leg still sharp and constant but serving to focus him.

He reached behind his back and felt the PP9. Drawing it as quickly as he could Gray aimed it at Hansel from where he was lying and pulled the trigger.

[NotAFlyingToy]

In a blur of motion they were both on their backs, and-

Hansel saw Gray draw the gun, swivelled the Masden to get him in his sights-

His finger wrapped around the trigger, pulled, eyes closed-

BANG

[Deamon]

Click.

What?

The pain tore through his throat.

A warm wetness started to spread down his neck and across his chest.

Gray coughed and blood came up. He was dying and strangely OK with it. He hadn't really deserved to live longer than his friends. It was only right that he ran out of luck eventually. Blood splashed onto the floor as Gray tried to push himself up. It was weird how dark it was. He knew he'd bled after being hit by the car but it had seemed so much brighter.

His vision started to fade out. As it turned out death wasn't that scary. Then again he'd met it once before, he wasn't as surprised to see it a second time if he was honest. It was more like meeting an old friend again. He grinned to himself. Dying had a funny way of putting things in perspective. Whatever his life had been and could have been didn't really matter. He'd done what he loved, nothing else to it. He just hoped his friends would forgive his fuck ups when he saw them.

B007 - Emerson, Gray: Eliminated
9 Students Remain

[NotAFlyingToy]

The Masden exploded in a short burst, the bullets emptying into Gray's throat as Hansel stared down the barrel of Gray's pistol, lying stock-still as Gray died, grinning, coughing, bleeding. He watched the other boy's heart stop, lungs fill with blood, life pouring out onto the mansion floor and soaking the sleeve of his sweater.

He just lay there, breathing, watching.

When he was sure it wasn't over - when he was positive he lived while Gray died, he slowly clambered to his feet, sleeve dripping with Gray's blood as he bent to pick up the PP9, lifted it.

It hadn't gone off. Gray had him - they had each other - and his gun hadn't gone off.

Turning the pistol around in his right hand, Hansel brushed his thumb over the weapon, examined it, paused.

Flicked the safety from Engaged to Off.

He slumped backwards, sliding his back down the wall, staring at the now live, now dangerous gun.

And erupted into relieved laughter, the sound alien, foreign, painful as it echoed around the now-empty mansion.

He didn't stop laughing for a long time.

((Hansel Williams, Unless you were Maureen O'Hara.))