There were some things Joe hadn't considered. Like the fact that he didn't know how to use a gun like this. It was bigger than the gun he'd killed Jason with. More unwieldy. And he wasn't 100% sure if it was set to be fired or whether he had to do something first. He pointed the gun at Hansel anyway, hand hovering around the trigger. Or at least... he was like eighty percent sure it was the trigger. Triggers went there.
He didn't try pulling it. Because he knew that had been too easy. He pointed it at Hansel. Heard what he had to say.
Shoot. You have him right there. Shoot. Shoot now.
The gun barrel shook a lot. Then Joe let out a long hiss of breath and pointed it at the ground.
"Wasn't trying to find the way out," Joe mumbled. "Be pretty hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?"
He looked at the collection of supplies Hansel had gathered. He shuffled on his feet, looking at the ground (though watching Hansel out of the corner of his eye) and fiddling with his grip.
"...I don't know how to use it. D'you... d'you have the instructions? Is this loaded? You... you wouldn't need the bullets for it, would you?"
Embarrassing. He came here to kill Hansel and instead ended up asking for ammo.
Tomorrow is the most important thing in life.
Private - Day 8
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ViolentMedic
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NotAFlyingToy
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Hansel shook his head, rising from his seated position with a small grunt and a bit of rocking, his knees protesting slightly. He still had bruises from Garrett's assault along his thigh, and the scuffle with Theo had left his legs sore and protesting. Shaking one leg to get the feeling back in it, he met Joe's eyes, slid his hands into his pockets, wincing slightly at the shooting pain in his left arm.
"That's an antique," he said, nodding towards the gun as he bent to pick up his bag, his sketchbook. He looped the FAMAS over one shoulder, the Winchester 88 - Cody's weapon - he kept at his side, fingers curled around it.
He ripped the page he was working on with two free fingers that weren't clutching the older model of gun, nodding towards one of the two daypacks.
"I kuh-cleaned them out of food and w-water, but left the ammo for that in Puh-hatton's bag. Might be a manual, I don't know. Figure it out."
He turned to leave, made it a few steps before stopping. He felt compelled to speak, to warn Joe that if he saw him again, he'd have to kill him. To tell him that if it could be anyone other than Hansel winning this whole thing, he might be open to Joe being the alternative.
"Joe..." he began, turning to look at him, half over his shoulder. After a moment, he let the ripped out sketchbook paper flutter to the ground, lifting a shoulder.
"Kuh-heep your head up."
Hansel walked away, leaving a half-formed sketch of a long wooden fence surrounding a pasture, with animals and people dotting it in the distance. Clouds were wispy in the sky, a half drawn stable stood proudly.
On one of the fence posts sat a stetson.
((Hansel Williams, The Mad And Hungry Dogs))
"That's an antique," he said, nodding towards the gun as he bent to pick up his bag, his sketchbook. He looped the FAMAS over one shoulder, the Winchester 88 - Cody's weapon - he kept at his side, fingers curled around it.
He ripped the page he was working on with two free fingers that weren't clutching the older model of gun, nodding towards one of the two daypacks.
"I kuh-cleaned them out of food and w-water, but left the ammo for that in Puh-hatton's bag. Might be a manual, I don't know. Figure it out."
He turned to leave, made it a few steps before stopping. He felt compelled to speak, to warn Joe that if he saw him again, he'd have to kill him. To tell him that if it could be anyone other than Hansel winning this whole thing, he might be open to Joe being the alternative.
"Joe..." he began, turning to look at him, half over his shoulder. After a moment, he let the ripped out sketchbook paper flutter to the ground, lifting a shoulder.
"Kuh-heep your head up."
Hansel walked away, leaving a half-formed sketch of a long wooden fence surrounding a pasture, with animals and people dotting it in the distance. Clouds were wispy in the sky, a half drawn stable stood proudly.
On one of the fence posts sat a stetson.
((Hansel Williams, The Mad And Hungry Dogs))
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ViolentMedic
- Posts: 813
- Joined: Fri Aug 17, 2018 7:53 am
He just let Hansel leave. He tried to find something to say, or the guts to shoot. Both came up blank, even though he knew there was no forgiveness where Hansel was. Even if Hansel had left him a gun and ammo.
It felt so wrong to contemplate shooting the guy who'd armed him. But it felt wrong contemplating letting him leave and live. Even just for another day. It might mean the life of someone else.
He just couldn't move. He watched Hansel turn and speak and leave and never made a move.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Joe looked down at the gun. He had a sudden compulsion to throw it. What if he shot someone innocent again? What if the incident with Jason happened again? Guns were too easy to kill with. Melee murder needed intent and force. It wasn't something he could do lightly. But guns... pull a trigger, someone dies.
He didn't want it. But he needed it.
Especially if he was going to try and gather... gather whatever he needed to kill. Anger? Panic? ...Insanity, maybe? Or just plain evilness? Whatever it was, he needed it for next time he met Hansel.
He could have run after Hansel. Maybe tried for a last minute attack. Instead, he sat down next to the mostly empty daypack with the rifle lying across his lap. He found the instructions and started reading, aware that every moment he read was a moment where Travis or Hansel or someone else could kill someone.
Joe put away the gun manual inside his bag when he was done, along with the ammo left in the bag. He picked up the sketch Hansel had left behind. Pretty nice, he supposed. Not that he really knew nice art from bad.
Joe removed the little wad of sticky notes from his pocket. He peeled away the one with Hansel's name on it, comparing the note and the picture. Hansel was impossible to keep as just a name. Why did the top killer have to be someone who wasn't a stranger?
Whoever he kills next is on you.
Joe put Hansel's drawing back down and left it behind.
((Joe Carrasco continued in Confusional State.))
It felt so wrong to contemplate shooting the guy who'd armed him. But it felt wrong contemplating letting him leave and live. Even just for another day. It might mean the life of someone else.
He just couldn't move. He watched Hansel turn and speak and leave and never made a move.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Joe looked down at the gun. He had a sudden compulsion to throw it. What if he shot someone innocent again? What if the incident with Jason happened again? Guns were too easy to kill with. Melee murder needed intent and force. It wasn't something he could do lightly. But guns... pull a trigger, someone dies.
He didn't want it. But he needed it.
Especially if he was going to try and gather... gather whatever he needed to kill. Anger? Panic? ...Insanity, maybe? Or just plain evilness? Whatever it was, he needed it for next time he met Hansel.
He could have run after Hansel. Maybe tried for a last minute attack. Instead, he sat down next to the mostly empty daypack with the rifle lying across his lap. He found the instructions and started reading, aware that every moment he read was a moment where Travis or Hansel or someone else could kill someone.
Joe put away the gun manual inside his bag when he was done, along with the ammo left in the bag. He picked up the sketch Hansel had left behind. Pretty nice, he supposed. Not that he really knew nice art from bad.
Joe removed the little wad of sticky notes from his pocket. He peeled away the one with Hansel's name on it, comparing the note and the picture. Hansel was impossible to keep as just a name. Why did the top killer have to be someone who wasn't a stranger?
Whoever he kills next is on you.
Joe put Hansel's drawing back down and left it behind.
((Joe Carrasco continued in Confusional State.))