Rat Strats

[Emprexx Plush]

((Blaise And Carl D'Aramitz Continued From February 13th, 1962))

In the first corner, a pseudo-spiritualist who seemed to have refined her appetite for violence in the days since their first encounter and now busied herself performing last rites for an alcoholic pervert somehow still possessed of better reputation than her.

In its opposite, a ghost nearly as dead as her bedroom after an attempt at seduction who despite the week long reprieve still likely had a higher BAC than her last test score.

So who y’all got?

Teresa closed the ground quickly. Violet lost the advantage of her crossbow.

Hmmm.

She drew a knife. One slice, then another.

Entertain a question.

Yeah?

No contact, not in the first rounds, not until Teresa bounded this way and that not unlike a cornered animal. A rabid thing. Not quite wild. The instincts her movements called from spoke less to practice than pantomime. A domestic creature. Small. A cat? No, something that had bitten off more than it could chew but was unaware. Some diminutive breed of dog, a dachshund perhaps, features shrouded in flowing fabric that one could only imagine got in its way. She pounced.

Do you suspect Violet is trying to kill her in earnest?

Coordination would not grace either effort; they were a trainwreck made flesh with all the cacophony one might imagine in such an accident. Yet miraculously they tore about, their feet still found on unsure ground. Violet went for her crossbow.

I reckon so, or she'd be runnin'.

Then Teresa is perfectly safe. She takes my bet.

How you figure that?

I’ve never seen the girl hurt anyone she’s meant to; you would see that as well if you would pay attention.

Blaise watched down the sight of their rifle as the girls took each other to the ground. Bolts scattered in their wake. There was a glint suggesting one of them had lost a weapon, but their focus was center of mass. Waiting for the right moment was paramount. There had been many opportunities while Violet took to her role as island mortician but it had felt...off. Of course they had not believed in some preternatural tip off anymore than they truly believed a boy in a cowboy hat stooped beside them. They were anxious. There had been respectable passage since the last time they pointed a weapon at someone who might point one back. In truth, they had nearly walked away before Teresa made her entrance and shifted the dynamic to something more-

It’s like one of them royal battles?

The fuck is this?

Y’know, like with the airplanes? And the dancin’?

...I’m sorry. Permit me to clarify. The fuck is this?

Ya build things! Ya find guns! Ya creep up on folk fightin’ and wait for one of ‘em to fuck it up so’s you can swoop in like a big ol’ buzzard! The kids love it, you’s a might out of touch ain’t you?

Are you talking about a...nevermind, this bit does not work. It cannot work. How can I know an answer you do not? It does not make sense.

I’unno, it’s your script papa bear, I’m just the color commentary. Eh? Eh? Geddit?

Why did you say that as if it were a punchline?

I’ll admit that one’s funnier for the folks at home..

No one at home can hear you.

Not y’alls home maybe.

Profanity laced screeching rang over the shore.

Violet ran. It went as well as every other task Blaise had seen her attempt. Then Teresa was on her.

The water bubbled.

Stilled.

A girl rose victorious from a baptism of sorts in corpse clouded water, grinning. Cocky. Vulnerable.

Excuse me a moment.

((Blaise D’Aramitz Continued In The Despair Code))

((Blaise D’Aramitz Continued From The Despair Code))

There were three corpses of note after the fighting stopped.

Reckon this gal was one of them die young and leave a pretty corpse types? She got half right. That’s somethin’

Teresa’s face would not be much use in identifying her. Regrettable since she was shrouded in a ridiculous robe, not inconsiderable inspection would be required to be certain it was her. By others, of course. Blaise had seen her features well before the bullet marred them.

Her family will do better than most.

What, they hate her or somethin’?

How am I meant to know? All I am certain of is that the slurry of preservatives she consumed should keep her fresh long enough they may have a proper funeral.

There was little of note on her body but the knife and bag she’d retrieved from Violet before coming ashore. She did not have time to find her own knife before her celebration ended. Blaise was not so short on time.

Y’all gotta do the thing.

What thing?

When you win in the battle whatsits. The thing. You seen kids do it.

I have no idea what you are talking about.

When you win in the battle whatsits. The thing, before all the dancin’. You seen kids do it.

I will not say it.

It ain’t hard, I reckon, you just sorta raise your arms and tuck your chin and swing. Heck, you could do a couple of ‘em.

I am not fucking dabbing on a corpse, Carl.

Well jump in another bush for a sec, do a quick change, blame it on ol’ Carl. I wanna give it a whirl.

No.

Pussy.

The second was not involved in the fight at all. Truth be told Blaise had been looking for Violet in the dark when they nearly slipped and drowned themself over her body.

Four feet. No, six, easy.

Quiet.

Her face had been similarly rendered inoperable. A shame. They still recognized her. Madison had lost a much greater asset than Teresa.

I swear, put you on a court and throw in some bloated blonde bodies and you got yourself a career when this is all said and done.

There is no shame in readiness.

I ain’t said nothin’ about shame, I just wanna sell tickets.

Out of the question.

Like it’s the worst thing you ever done for money.

There was a gun in her hand, and a large jacket around her shoulders. Both prizes in their own sense. One for killing a simpleton, the other for fucking one.

That’s kinda sick even by y’alls standards.

I’m taking them both. The gun has obvious advantages. The jacket...it can be modified. I have ideas. It will serve well if it rains again.

The fella it belongs to is gonna be awful mad if he catches you in it.

Is he not dead by now?

Violet looked peaceful by comparison. Her wounds were not so visible. In many ways it was an improvement. Blaise was in the middle of removing the sheath from her leg when they heard snickering.

What is your problem?

No problem! It’s just...y’know. Y’all did it.

Did what?

C’mon, think it over. Lorenzo went awhile ago. Tyrell, he bit the dust this morning. You put Dante and Dolly away yourself. Now with Violet down...

Blaise lifted their head. “They’re all dead.”

Bingo. Pact fulfilled. Even added a couple names to the list all on your lonesome what with blabbin’ to Parker and Amber and Demetri but they done hit the dirt too.

They stared at Violet’s corpse.

Y’all did it.

Blaise began to laugh. It had no restraint. Their voice echoed over the pond until they sank to their knees beside Violet, hands wrapped around their stomach. “I did it.”

Without even tryin’. Literally. You ain’t done a dang thing for it since you blew Dolly open.

“But it just worked out.”

It just worked out.

“Because that’s what being Blaise D’Aramitz is like.”

Reckon I heard a wise feller say somethin’ similar once.

And they were alone.

They knew not only subconsciously but consciously that there was no one with them. That they spoke aloud and received no response. There was no delusion of conversation to be found and no justification that it did not look something like madness. But it could not be, as they knew they were not mad. They chose to behave this way. To cope, or some such. The ability to choose madness, that was itself a sort of sanity, yes? It was just a game. A distraction.

They saw, or imagined they saw, a red light blinking in the distance.

Who do you imagine watches?

Freaks, mostly. The type that get off on it.

Disregard them. The information has no meaning to them. Who watches and retains? Contextualizes? Who would see that day at the beach and know Artem Fyodorov enough to care what happened to him?

This one of them ree-tar-i-coal questions?

Family members. Friends. The odd acquaintance, perhaps.

Where you goin’ with this?

Dolly wanted everyone who knew to die, did she not?

Huh.

Yes.

I ‘spose...

Yes?

We gotta get back and kill all them folk too.

No.

Blaise was not mad.

Not just them. Artem too. Then it will be finished.

They were making choices.

((Blaise And Carl D'Aramitz Continued In give me everything you have and more))

IS THAT A GOSH DANG HAND?