>> Nothing changed.
Mostly nothing. Maybe a little. Axel'd managed some words that weren't "okay" or "I guess" or "sure" to whatever thing Abe was talking about. Hel had eaten some of one of their energy bars without being prompted. He had taken the stupid tentacle thing Andy had been so fond of out of his bag and looking at it didn't make his chest feel like it was going to explode. Baby steps. He should probably be encouraged by that but it didn't actually feel like anything. All he'd gotten was numb. Numb was probably better than miserable. Kinda hard to say.
He'd kissed Hel on the cheek, once, in a quiet moment. He thought they almost smiled. That was close enough.
He wished he was angry.
He was angry, somewhere. He could feel it inside him, somewhere, burning, but he'd have to dig it out with his nails to make it worth anything and he didn't have the energy for that and he probably wouldn't until Lucas Brady showed his ugly fucking mug in front of him and then he was pretty sure he'd find the strength to tear his face off with his bare hands and hey, there, see, that was a flare of something. Felt good. Felt right. Fucked up as that was.
He'd always been pretty good at hurting people.
Axel took last watch, sitting on a raised root with Hel's gun and his knife and the stupid tentacle thing that was technically his but was really Andy's and maybe he should have left it with his body too but they'd been going the other way and he couldn't be the one to suggest stupid shit like that and now he'd adopted it officially, he guessed, he kept it on the ground next to him because he didn't know, because sentimental bullshit, because something, because maybe Andy would coming through those trees and he'd be pissed if he'd left it behind, because he was tripping over the stages of grief and stumbling backwards, just because.
He played with the knife.
He waited.
my heart will be blacker than your eyes when i'm through with you
morning of day 6, just before announcements, private for now
my heart will be blacker than your eyes when i'm through with you
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
((Well. There they were.))
There Abe was, and he was still there, and that was a goddamn miracle, wasn’t it? The dead were piling up in a number that seemed both incomprehensibly large and pants-shittingly small. Like, they were almost a full week into their fun island vacation, and there had to be more than half of his fellow poor bastards left, right? Like, Mr. Terrorist’s Stand Up Comedy Hour woulda made a point of it once they hit that glorious fucking milestone, right?
He still had a long fuckin’ road ahead of him, and a whole lotta bodies to step over. His king’s bounty of a bag was bulging considerably less than it had been, and even though he was sitting pretty with a barely-fired gun and two people he could trust, all that meant was that he’d be doing well until he very suddenly wasn’t, yeah?
Day six. Six days without a shower, without real food, six days falling asleep cuddling a gun instead of his girlfriend. What a fuckin’ life he was living, and what a merry fuckin’ bunch they were, three peas in a pod that had room for four. Their collective atmosphere had never been light, but at least when Andy was still alive, they’d been able to make jokes that no one laughed at (‘cause they weren’t funny) but the past few days had just been completely, dreadfully silent, enough to make him want to finally burst out laughing, because what the fuck, right?
What the fuck sorta world were they living in where Axel was just shuffling around like a zombie, barely enough life left in him to even be pissy? Jesus, Abe hadn’t wanted to be a babysitter, but he got the feeling that if he hadn’t been there, he and Hel would’ve just like fucking sat down on the ground and wasted away. The others were running out of things to live for, and they didn’t seem married to the idea of staying alive just for the sake of it. Guess that’s why Abe’d be the only one of them going home. Haha. That wasn’t funny.
But, like, it was really fucked up, but Abe was secretly glad that things had worked out the way they had. Not that he’d wanted Andy to die, or for his friends to suffer, or for them to inevitably fall to pave his way ahead, but - he was maybe the luckiest person on the island. Because if things had turned out any other way, maybe he wouldn’t have been the sole witness to the most beautiful sounds that could ever bless their sorry asses.
The night after Andy died, Abe hadn’t been able to sleep, for very mysterious reasons, but he’d been lying very still for a long time, because pretending you were snoozing was the easiest way to trick yourself into actually falling asleep.
At first, he’d thought he was dreaming; because there was no way Axel was ever gonna sing again, right? He was just imagining what his heart desperately wanted to be happening, right? There couldn’t be any more nice things for anyone, right? His breath caught in his chest.
Abe was overcome by the power of Axel’s voice, the grief in his words. You could’ve told him the song was written for the fucking occasion and he would’ve believed you, ‘cause there were real tears in Abe's eyes by the end. He had no idea who’d actually written it - some guitar douche, probably. Well, Axel was the guitar douche. his guitar douche, and with that performance he’d proven his superiority over literally everyone else with a voice.
Those precious minutes ended, and eventually, Abe fell asleep. He never mentioned it. To mention would be to trespass, to profane - trying to force a dream into the light of day was the easiest way to sully its perfection. What the fuck even was this pretentious bullshit he was spewing?
Whatever. Beauty was a speck in the rear-view mirror, and he needed to take a piss. Abe stood up, grateful to be dry but hateful of the humid stickiness that had taken the rain’s place. Axel was up, for a given value of up.
“Mornin’. See any fucked up monkeys?”
There Abe was, and he was still there, and that was a goddamn miracle, wasn’t it? The dead were piling up in a number that seemed both incomprehensibly large and pants-shittingly small. Like, they were almost a full week into their fun island vacation, and there had to be more than half of his fellow poor bastards left, right? Like, Mr. Terrorist’s Stand Up Comedy Hour woulda made a point of it once they hit that glorious fucking milestone, right?
He still had a long fuckin’ road ahead of him, and a whole lotta bodies to step over. His king’s bounty of a bag was bulging considerably less than it had been, and even though he was sitting pretty with a barely-fired gun and two people he could trust, all that meant was that he’d be doing well until he very suddenly wasn’t, yeah?
Day six. Six days without a shower, without real food, six days falling asleep cuddling a gun instead of his girlfriend. What a fuckin’ life he was living, and what a merry fuckin’ bunch they were, three peas in a pod that had room for four. Their collective atmosphere had never been light, but at least when Andy was still alive, they’d been able to make jokes that no one laughed at (‘cause they weren’t funny) but the past few days had just been completely, dreadfully silent, enough to make him want to finally burst out laughing, because what the fuck, right?
What the fuck sorta world were they living in where Axel was just shuffling around like a zombie, barely enough life left in him to even be pissy? Jesus, Abe hadn’t wanted to be a babysitter, but he got the feeling that if he hadn’t been there, he and Hel would’ve just like fucking sat down on the ground and wasted away. The others were running out of things to live for, and they didn’t seem married to the idea of staying alive just for the sake of it. Guess that’s why Abe’d be the only one of them going home. Haha. That wasn’t funny.
But, like, it was really fucked up, but Abe was secretly glad that things had worked out the way they had. Not that he’d wanted Andy to die, or for his friends to suffer, or for them to inevitably fall to pave his way ahead, but - he was maybe the luckiest person on the island. Because if things had turned out any other way, maybe he wouldn’t have been the sole witness to the most beautiful sounds that could ever bless their sorry asses.
The night after Andy died, Abe hadn’t been able to sleep, for very mysterious reasons, but he’d been lying very still for a long time, because pretending you were snoozing was the easiest way to trick yourself into actually falling asleep.
At first, he’d thought he was dreaming; because there was no way Axel was ever gonna sing again, right? He was just imagining what his heart desperately wanted to be happening, right? There couldn’t be any more nice things for anyone, right? His breath caught in his chest.
Abe was overcome by the power of Axel’s voice, the grief in his words. You could’ve told him the song was written for the fucking occasion and he would’ve believed you, ‘cause there were real tears in Abe's eyes by the end. He had no idea who’d actually written it - some guitar douche, probably. Well, Axel was the guitar douche. his guitar douche, and with that performance he’d proven his superiority over literally everyone else with a voice.
Those precious minutes ended, and eventually, Abe fell asleep. He never mentioned it. To mention would be to trespass, to profane - trying to force a dream into the light of day was the easiest way to sully its perfection. What the fuck even was this pretentious bullshit he was spewing?
Whatever. Beauty was a speck in the rear-view mirror, and he needed to take a piss. Abe stood up, grateful to be dry but hateful of the humid stickiness that had taken the rain’s place. Axel was up, for a given value of up.
“Mornin’. See any fucked up monkeys?”
"All monkeys are fucked up," he muttered before realizing words were actually coming out of his mouth.
It was true though.
Axel looked back at Hel, apparently still asleep, or at least pretending to be. No use disturbing them, either way. They'd laid close together when Abe was on watch; he hadn't checked if they'd been sleeping then. He hadn't rolled closer like he had on the third night, them breathing peacefully under his arm. Andy snoring a few feet away. It was a nice memory if he didn't think about it for more than five seconds.
Didn't feel like he had the right to try that anymore. Wasn't sure he ever would again. Maybe he could ask them or something, if his mouth would stop being too dry to say two words to them.
Plenty of spit to say how weird monkeys were though, looked like.
Whatever.
Abe seemed like himself. That meant a lot, one life preserver of normalcy when everything else threatened to drown him. Kinda figured that it was a literal life and death situation that got the two of them finally talking again, cause they were both the sort of people who would sit on their asses for the rest of their lives waiting for the other one to blink first. "You're gonna be dead in two weeks if you're lucky" was one way to break the stalemate. He got the sense Abe didn't really believe it, which was probably why he was being so himself all the time, but that was cool. Denial was whatever. Whatever kept you chill. He missed chill. Chill was chill.
He couldn't talk shit about denial when he glanced up with every noise he heard half-expecting Andy to come marching through the trees asking why the fuck they'd left without him.
It'd been almost two whole days. Worms were eating him.
His stomach churned and he didn't flinch.
"Nothing doing. Some weird birds." Birds had a blood feud against Andy. Probably were eating him too. Who got the last laugh? Ha ha. "Announcements soon, probably."
Abe looked like himself too, when he looked at him. Six days without a shower and he was still cute in that terminally dorky sort of way. Hey, that was almost a positive emotion. A for effort.
"You, uh, you sleep okay?"
It was true though.
Axel looked back at Hel, apparently still asleep, or at least pretending to be. No use disturbing them, either way. They'd laid close together when Abe was on watch; he hadn't checked if they'd been sleeping then. He hadn't rolled closer like he had on the third night, them breathing peacefully under his arm. Andy snoring a few feet away. It was a nice memory if he didn't think about it for more than five seconds.
Didn't feel like he had the right to try that anymore. Wasn't sure he ever would again. Maybe he could ask them or something, if his mouth would stop being too dry to say two words to them.
Plenty of spit to say how weird monkeys were though, looked like.
Whatever.
Abe seemed like himself. That meant a lot, one life preserver of normalcy when everything else threatened to drown him. Kinda figured that it was a literal life and death situation that got the two of them finally talking again, cause they were both the sort of people who would sit on their asses for the rest of their lives waiting for the other one to blink first. "You're gonna be dead in two weeks if you're lucky" was one way to break the stalemate. He got the sense Abe didn't really believe it, which was probably why he was being so himself all the time, but that was cool. Denial was whatever. Whatever kept you chill. He missed chill. Chill was chill.
He couldn't talk shit about denial when he glanced up with every noise he heard half-expecting Andy to come marching through the trees asking why the fuck they'd left without him.
It'd been almost two whole days. Worms were eating him.
His stomach churned and he didn't flinch.
"Nothing doing. Some weird birds." Birds had a blood feud against Andy. Probably were eating him too. Who got the last laugh? Ha ha. "Announcements soon, probably."
Abe looked like himself too, when he looked at him. Six days without a shower and he was still cute in that terminally dorky sort of way. Hey, that was almost a positive emotion. A for effort.
"You, uh, you sleep okay?"
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Well, that was something approaching a comedic riff on Abe's statement. He could work with that. "Yeah, true. Uncanny-valley-ass-motherfuckers," he muttered as he stood up and stretched. Everything was sore and his neck hurt.
"And nah, I slept like shit. Everything's sore and my neck hurts." He'd probably slept like, a decent amount at least, but he wasn't exactly a spring chicken, or even a winter bear, 'cause if he was a bear, he'd be sleeping, and if he wasn't sleeping, he could maul people with his mighty mighty paws, and both those fates were currently denied to him.
In fact, he wasn't really ready to commit to standing up yet. Abe took a few steps forward, next to Axel, then sat down cross-legged. The announcements would be soon, but better to chill and gather their strength in the meantime instead of just being fucked by dread, right?
"I've passed out on more floors than most people, probably, but that doesn't make me any better at sleeping on like, the literal ground."
"And nah, I slept like shit. Everything's sore and my neck hurts." He'd probably slept like, a decent amount at least, but he wasn't exactly a spring chicken, or even a winter bear, 'cause if he was a bear, he'd be sleeping, and if he wasn't sleeping, he could maul people with his mighty mighty paws, and both those fates were currently denied to him.
In fact, he wasn't really ready to commit to standing up yet. Abe took a few steps forward, next to Axel, then sat down cross-legged. The announcements would be soon, but better to chill and gather their strength in the meantime instead of just being fucked by dread, right?
"I've passed out on more floors than most people, probably, but that doesn't make me any better at sleeping on like, the literal ground."
"Trust me, dude, I'm like, world champion at passing out where I shouldn't. Dirt's better than concrete." He shrugged. "Might just be cause I don't have a hangover, though. If I wanna overthink it."
The words were familiar-ish, like the kinda shit Axel would have said in a normal version of his life, but the voice that said them was dead. He'd gotten it back for a few minutes the other night, singing into the abyss, and now it was gone. He sounded like someone programmed a robot with his voice and was worried about it sounding too human.
Abe sat next to him. He leaned into him, like it was a superhuman task to stay sitting up, like his own weight was too much. It was whatever. He barely noticed.
"How long you think I can stay up?" He grinned at him, empty-eyed. "Been like 48 hours straight now, I think. Did worse when Persona 5 dropped, so, y'know, could be worse?"
He played with the knife. The tip of the blade pressed into the lid of the tentacle box over, and over, and over.
The words were familiar-ish, like the kinda shit Axel would have said in a normal version of his life, but the voice that said them was dead. He'd gotten it back for a few minutes the other night, singing into the abyss, and now it was gone. He sounded like someone programmed a robot with his voice and was worried about it sounding too human.
Abe sat next to him. He leaned into him, like it was a superhuman task to stay sitting up, like his own weight was too much. It was whatever. He barely noticed.
"How long you think I can stay up?" He grinned at him, empty-eyed. "Been like 48 hours straight now, I think. Did worse when Persona 5 dropped, so, y'know, could be worse?"
He played with the knife. The tip of the blade pressed into the lid of the tentacle box over, and over, and over.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
“Man, I’d hate to see how long you’d stay up if you were playing an actual good video game.” That was a no-scope hot take said for the sole purpose of being asinine. Abe thought Persona 5 was a perfectly fine game when cats weren’t telling you to go the fuck to bed.
But wow this wasn’t normal. Things were quiet and calm enough that they could just chill and do normal things, like being two bros having a dumb conversation, but there weren’t any vibes. They were just going through the motions, which was, like, still better than not going any motions, because then they’d be dead, haha.
That was kind of a stretch, but it was also a handy illustration of why everything was so fucked, y’know? Morbidity was mandatory when your morning alarm clock was five minutes of the shittiest obituaries in the world. Death thoughts kinda pushed everything else outta your brain, like knowing how to be a cool and chill dude.
Still. Didn’t hurt to give it a try, yeah? Maybe if they tiredly flailed around long enough with their excuse for a conversation, they could fall back into their old rhythms, or at least something that could be mistaken for them.
It felt nice that Axel was leaning on him, and it was kinda weird how reassuring his weight was. Like, Abe obviously wasn’t a ‘no homo, you gotta stay at least ten feet away from me at all times bro lest we accidentally brush fingertips’ sorta prick, nothing wrong with two bros just leaning against each other at the end of a hard day, but like, this was better than that, which conjured feelings that were complicated for a whole bunch of reasons he didn’t really wanna get into, so instead he chose to just be concerned, because, like, Axel was saying some pretty concerning shit.
“But like, seriously dude. If you keep going like that, you’re gonna just fall over eventually, and I am not carrying your ass, so you’ll wake up all sore ‘cause I’ve been dragging you around by an arm all day.”
But wow this wasn’t normal. Things were quiet and calm enough that they could just chill and do normal things, like being two bros having a dumb conversation, but there weren’t any vibes. They were just going through the motions, which was, like, still better than not going any motions, because then they’d be dead, haha.
That was kind of a stretch, but it was also a handy illustration of why everything was so fucked, y’know? Morbidity was mandatory when your morning alarm clock was five minutes of the shittiest obituaries in the world. Death thoughts kinda pushed everything else outta your brain, like knowing how to be a cool and chill dude.
Still. Didn’t hurt to give it a try, yeah? Maybe if they tiredly flailed around long enough with their excuse for a conversation, they could fall back into their old rhythms, or at least something that could be mistaken for them.
It felt nice that Axel was leaning on him, and it was kinda weird how reassuring his weight was. Like, Abe obviously wasn’t a ‘no homo, you gotta stay at least ten feet away from me at all times bro lest we accidentally brush fingertips’ sorta prick, nothing wrong with two bros just leaning against each other at the end of a hard day, but like, this was better than that, which conjured feelings that were complicated for a whole bunch of reasons he didn’t really wanna get into, so instead he chose to just be concerned, because, like, Axel was saying some pretty concerning shit.
“But like, seriously dude. If you keep going like that, you’re gonna just fall over eventually, and I am not carrying your ass, so you’ll wake up all sore ‘cause I’ve been dragging you around by an arm all day.”
"Yeah, yeah."
Abe had shitty taste in everything. Was part of his charm, maybe. Kinda felt pointless to argue when they'd both played the last games they were ever gonna. Axel wanted "what was the last game I ever played" to be like this deep existential question he could distract himself with for a minute because distractions were thin on the ground but he remembered too well. Night before the trip, like 2 AM, duo queue with Hel because he wouldn't let them sleep until they won one, like it was anyone's fault but his that they were losing. They both crashed hard on the bus on the way to DC but like, worth it, right? Even at the time.
He stabbed the knife between his fingers as Abe spoke. The knife game but in slow motion. I've got all my fingers, the knife goes blah blah blah. The wood the tentacle box was made of was weirdly soft, or maybe knives were just sharp or something. Maybe Andy would've been mad at him for stabbing his kid. Who cared.
"Ain't a bad idea to get used to dragging my dead weight around now, y'know?"
His grin had tightened into a thin line of a smile.
"Unless you wanna leave me in the woods too."
It was supposed to be a joke. It could've been a joke.
Silence cut with a literal knife, the rhythmic sharp sound of a blade point sliding through wood. It was kinda funny. But mostly it was kinda sad.
The static hum of the announcements interrupted whatever stupid shit Abe was probably gonna say to kill the tension and for real, what did it say that the Daily Murder News qualified as kind of a relief? Maybe it just didn't matter anymore considering his best friends were here or dead. There were a few names he didn't want to hear, yeah, but unless someone had just snuck into camp and slit Hel's throat in the last two minutes (he turned around for a sec to make sure, nope, definitely not dead, starting to wake up actually, that was good) there was nothing left that could drag him deeper than he'd already fallen.
He heard Lorenzo's name and it barely registered considering he'd already shown his whole ass. One of the Carter's was dead. Demetri was dead. Maybe he was supposed to be glad or something. His hand moved numbly. He barely knew half of these names and they had all been just as scared as he was and now they weren't breathing and if he stopped and thought about that for more than a few seconds he would never think about anything else ever again so he didn't.
He heard Lucas's name.
His hands stopped moving.
He stared, slack-jawed, in the direction of the loudspeaker, like maybe King Motherfucker would repeat himself if he looked disbelieving enough. Hey, there were a bunch of Lucas's, maybe he'd heard it wrong, y'know? He hadn't, though. He knew that.
Something in him boiled.
Something hurt. He barely noticed.
Abe had shitty taste in everything. Was part of his charm, maybe. Kinda felt pointless to argue when they'd both played the last games they were ever gonna. Axel wanted "what was the last game I ever played" to be like this deep existential question he could distract himself with for a minute because distractions were thin on the ground but he remembered too well. Night before the trip, like 2 AM, duo queue with Hel because he wouldn't let them sleep until they won one, like it was anyone's fault but his that they were losing. They both crashed hard on the bus on the way to DC but like, worth it, right? Even at the time.
He stabbed the knife between his fingers as Abe spoke. The knife game but in slow motion. I've got all my fingers, the knife goes blah blah blah. The wood the tentacle box was made of was weirdly soft, or maybe knives were just sharp or something. Maybe Andy would've been mad at him for stabbing his kid. Who cared.
"Ain't a bad idea to get used to dragging my dead weight around now, y'know?"
His grin had tightened into a thin line of a smile.
"Unless you wanna leave me in the woods too."
It was supposed to be a joke. It could've been a joke.
Silence cut with a literal knife, the rhythmic sharp sound of a blade point sliding through wood. It was kinda funny. But mostly it was kinda sad.
The static hum of the announcements interrupted whatever stupid shit Abe was probably gonna say to kill the tension and for real, what did it say that the Daily Murder News qualified as kind of a relief? Maybe it just didn't matter anymore considering his best friends were here or dead. There were a few names he didn't want to hear, yeah, but unless someone had just snuck into camp and slit Hel's throat in the last two minutes (he turned around for a sec to make sure, nope, definitely not dead, starting to wake up actually, that was good) there was nothing left that could drag him deeper than he'd already fallen.
He heard Lorenzo's name and it barely registered considering he'd already shown his whole ass. One of the Carter's was dead. Demetri was dead. Maybe he was supposed to be glad or something. His hand moved numbly. He barely knew half of these names and they had all been just as scared as he was and now they weren't breathing and if he stopped and thought about that for more than a few seconds he would never think about anything else ever again so he didn't.
He heard Lucas's name.
His hands stopped moving.
He stared, slack-jawed, in the direction of the loudspeaker, like maybe King Motherfucker would repeat himself if he looked disbelieving enough. Hey, there were a bunch of Lucas's, maybe he'd heard it wrong, y'know? He hadn't, though. He knew that.
Something in him boiled.
Something hurt. He barely noticed.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Man. That wasn't funny. Abe knew, because he was a master of not being funny.
Or if it was funny, it was funny in the sense that getting a brick to the face was funny, in that if you were watching it through a television you could freely cackle your ass off at the guy whose brains were currently dripping through his nose. Bam. Haha.
What did you even say to something like that? Was it on purpose? Did Axel really still blame him for everything? Or was he just high off of sleep deprivation and just, saying words arbitrarily?
Silence. No, scratch that - stab thud stab thud stab thud. But the stab didn't really make a noise on its own, just the thud, but just 'thud' by itself didn't accurately convey the slicing action that was going on. Whatever. Abe was making noise in his brain by focusing on the noise so he didn't have to think in the absence of noise, you dig?
He'd just about settled on an innovative 'pretend the last minute didn't happen' pro strat, but then the announcements came on and sorta derailed everything, like they did. Hey, that was one way to change the topic.
Highlights? Not many. Forrest was still okay, and not a murderer (but who was he kidding he didn't care as much about that part) same as the last few days. Some heartless chick had bumped off Nathan, which was nice because it meant Abe'd have to stoop real fukken low to win the 'worst person alive on the island' award.
Goddammit, that being his first reaction meant he just soared way up in the rankings, didn't it.
What else? Facebook Lucas pulled a dick move and offed himself, totally wasting the generous second chance Abe had offered him, and also probably completely ruining Axel's day-
The knife made a different noise that time. Abe slowly turned his head to the side, and saw blood, which was less than ideal.
"Dude - jesus christ, your hand, you fucking idiot-" he stammered, before realizing that Hel was still asleep (and probably wouldn't take this well if they were awake) so he had to take charge, thanks asshole! Making a mad dash for the bags, he tripped as he got up, eating shit on the ground and crawling the last few feet on his hands and knees in his haste to dig up the fucking first aid kits.
Or if it was funny, it was funny in the sense that getting a brick to the face was funny, in that if you were watching it through a television you could freely cackle your ass off at the guy whose brains were currently dripping through his nose. Bam. Haha.
What did you even say to something like that? Was it on purpose? Did Axel really still blame him for everything? Or was he just high off of sleep deprivation and just, saying words arbitrarily?
Silence. No, scratch that - stab thud stab thud stab thud. But the stab didn't really make a noise on its own, just the thud, but just 'thud' by itself didn't accurately convey the slicing action that was going on. Whatever. Abe was making noise in his brain by focusing on the noise so he didn't have to think in the absence of noise, you dig?
He'd just about settled on an innovative 'pretend the last minute didn't happen' pro strat, but then the announcements came on and sorta derailed everything, like they did. Hey, that was one way to change the topic.
Highlights? Not many. Forrest was still okay, and not a murderer (but who was he kidding he didn't care as much about that part) same as the last few days. Some heartless chick had bumped off Nathan, which was nice because it meant Abe'd have to stoop real fukken low to win the 'worst person alive on the island' award.
Goddammit, that being his first reaction meant he just soared way up in the rankings, didn't it.
What else? Facebook Lucas pulled a dick move and offed himself, totally wasting the generous second chance Abe had offered him, and also probably completely ruining Axel's day-
The knife made a different noise that time. Abe slowly turned his head to the side, and saw blood, which was less than ideal.
"Dude - jesus christ, your hand, you fucking idiot-" he stammered, before realizing that Hel was still asleep (and probably wouldn't take this well if they were awake) so he had to take charge, thanks asshole! Making a mad dash for the bags, he tripped as he got up, eating shit on the ground and crawling the last few feet on his hands and knees in his haste to dig up the fucking first aid kits.
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Emprexx Plush
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((Hel Fury Continued From @shdwmstr recordings and transcripts june 14th))
((TW: Suicidal Ideation))
There was probably some way to spin the whole thing comedic, give themself a lil pick me up to start the day off. Like, like, hold on, they could get this, just had to grab a few details from around them. Keyser Soze up in here, transformation at all. What about this: it wasn't the first time they'd woken up smelling faintly like vomit, jaw aching, not real sure where they were or what they were doing, and pretty sure that Axel was supposed to be in a...thereish...position around them but he'd fucked off without explaining if he was responsible for any of the above. That'd just been Saturday morning for a minute now, yeah? Real normal stuff? Kinda funny in a fucked up way? Yeah? Was this anything?
They tried to kill themself again last night.
On camera.
Their brother was supposed to be watching.
Like every time they'd tried to force themself onto another train of thought all night they got crushed back down by that weight. Eyes open, eyes shut, they were watching the steps they took either way. They were steps, too. It wasn't random. Hel wanted to say it was a panic impulse because that's how suicide was supposed to work, right? You hit this moment that's too much for you to struggle past and your body goes on automatic replay for the thoughts you've been holding down all this time. It's why you always hear about survivors saying afterwards that they regretted it in this moment of clarity right before they should have died, they'd read those stories from bridge jumpers and pill poppers and whatever else you could imagine that didn't snatch you right away. It helped Hel to personify their mental illness as this Other, a thing inside of them that wanted them to suffer, and in that context the impulses were like a possession. For an immeasurable period of time it grew from antagonist to intruder, leaving you teetering on the edge just long enough to regret it once everything was in motion. The terrified clarity, the struggle, that all added up in the metaphor, and Hel had felt it. They'd felt it a lot. They remembered everything so sharp. The struggle was right there, real enough that they couldn't tell you for absolute certain that something didn't jump in their body with control they could barely resist let alone deny.
Problem was, it didn't send them running from their watch. It didn't sing for Bobby. It didn't talk about death with Dad. It didn't tell Lloyd to look away. It didn't put their barrel under their chin and utter what it thought would be their last words. The only moment where Hel could hand to heart swear that they struggled was when it jerked their arm wide before they pulled the trigger. The rest of it was all them. The world slipped away from them so easily, their own body could become a stranger in a moment, but these motions?
All their life, it had been them that walked up to the edge and jumped. Something or someone else always pulled them back, but even on their best days they knew whatever kept them here was going to miss eventually. They thought maybe they wanted it to, that t would be better to fall. Sure did a great job of pushing people away; classmates, online peeps, co-workers, family, fuck it you name it and the only people who consistently stayed in their life long term were the ones who fought to be there. They just, they never got the hang of reaching out or hanging on. On some level they didn't dig into often, it felt like calling an audience to the ledge. Their drop was inevitable. Why hurt more people on the way down than they had to?
This shit had been on their mind constantly out here, and when they put it all together it was starting to feel like...everything wrong with them they'd tried to push out as an unwelcome invader, it'd backfired. The good ended up feeling distant, dissonant. They were the intruder. The Other that only felt life in the minutes before releasing the body they held hostage from it.
Under all that the sound system coming alive was just white noise. If there was anything worth hearing, Axel would probably-
Dude - jesus christ, your hand, you fucking idiot
Hel connected the dots faster than they would have expected in the fog; Abe's voice, Axel's absence, it wasn't hard to put together but their memory was allocated pretty aggressively right now. There was hope in that, like if they could piece that together it gave them an anchor, just the kinda motivation they needed.
Hel rolled to their other side. Their mouth hung open with no outgoing traffic except their probably rancid breath.
Powerful start. Take 5 and we'll go again.
((TW: Suicidal Ideation))
There was probably some way to spin the whole thing comedic, give themself a lil pick me up to start the day off. Like, like, hold on, they could get this, just had to grab a few details from around them. Keyser Soze up in here, transformation at all. What about this: it wasn't the first time they'd woken up smelling faintly like vomit, jaw aching, not real sure where they were or what they were doing, and pretty sure that Axel was supposed to be in a...thereish...position around them but he'd fucked off without explaining if he was responsible for any of the above. That'd just been Saturday morning for a minute now, yeah? Real normal stuff? Kinda funny in a fucked up way? Yeah? Was this anything?
They tried to kill themself again last night.
On camera.
Their brother was supposed to be watching.
Like every time they'd tried to force themself onto another train of thought all night they got crushed back down by that weight. Eyes open, eyes shut, they were watching the steps they took either way. They were steps, too. It wasn't random. Hel wanted to say it was a panic impulse because that's how suicide was supposed to work, right? You hit this moment that's too much for you to struggle past and your body goes on automatic replay for the thoughts you've been holding down all this time. It's why you always hear about survivors saying afterwards that they regretted it in this moment of clarity right before they should have died, they'd read those stories from bridge jumpers and pill poppers and whatever else you could imagine that didn't snatch you right away. It helped Hel to personify their mental illness as this Other, a thing inside of them that wanted them to suffer, and in that context the impulses were like a possession. For an immeasurable period of time it grew from antagonist to intruder, leaving you teetering on the edge just long enough to regret it once everything was in motion. The terrified clarity, the struggle, that all added up in the metaphor, and Hel had felt it. They'd felt it a lot. They remembered everything so sharp. The struggle was right there, real enough that they couldn't tell you for absolute certain that something didn't jump in their body with control they could barely resist let alone deny.
Problem was, it didn't send them running from their watch. It didn't sing for Bobby. It didn't talk about death with Dad. It didn't tell Lloyd to look away. It didn't put their barrel under their chin and utter what it thought would be their last words. The only moment where Hel could hand to heart swear that they struggled was when it jerked their arm wide before they pulled the trigger. The rest of it was all them. The world slipped away from them so easily, their own body could become a stranger in a moment, but these motions?
All their life, it had been them that walked up to the edge and jumped. Something or someone else always pulled them back, but even on their best days they knew whatever kept them here was going to miss eventually. They thought maybe they wanted it to, that t would be better to fall. Sure did a great job of pushing people away; classmates, online peeps, co-workers, family, fuck it you name it and the only people who consistently stayed in their life long term were the ones who fought to be there. They just, they never got the hang of reaching out or hanging on. On some level they didn't dig into often, it felt like calling an audience to the ledge. Their drop was inevitable. Why hurt more people on the way down than they had to?
This shit had been on their mind constantly out here, and when they put it all together it was starting to feel like...everything wrong with them they'd tried to push out as an unwelcome invader, it'd backfired. The good ended up feeling distant, dissonant. They were the intruder. The Other that only felt life in the minutes before releasing the body they held hostage from it.
Under all that the sound system coming alive was just white noise. If there was anything worth hearing, Axel would probably-
Dude - jesus christ, your hand, you fucking idiot
Hel connected the dots faster than they would have expected in the fog; Abe's voice, Axel's absence, it wasn't hard to put together but their memory was allocated pretty aggressively right now. There was hope in that, like if they could piece that together it gave them an anchor, just the kinda motivation they needed.
Hel rolled to their other side. Their mouth hung open with no outgoing traffic except their probably rancid breath.
Powerful start. Take 5 and we'll go again.
Bullshit.
Fucking bullshit.
Not bullshit like Axel didn't believe it, of course he believed it, cause first of all if Danya was just like straight up making shit up then they were all kinda double extra fucked, huh, like they'd have no jump-off point at all, nah, he was pretty sure all the shit the dude was spewing was for real, but second of all because like, of course it was true? Of course Lucas Brady would take the coward's way out, fucking take himself down before he found one of the precious few people who managed to hate him more than he obviously hated himself? Not that that number wasn't growing larger all the time, probably the right time to do it, wasn't it, before Axel found him and tore his face off his body. It was funny cause he hadn't had the energy to realize how fucking badly he wanted to do that until it became officially too late.
He could deface (heh) a corpse, he guessed, but that didn't really appeal.
It was a big so now what sort of moment, as though he'd been on some kinda epic vengeance quest instead of sleepwalking for nearly two full days. The fucking epic vengeance quest had been right there though. Like he'd seen the quest popup and then just. Not. Just kept walking. We can do that later. There was always later. It was one of those things. Time didn't really pass until you did stuff so if you just didn't do anything you had forever. Right? Like, in games, and shit, and this was real life, but it kinda felt that way, anyways. Nothing felt real, anyways.
He wasn't making sense. Probably the blood loss.
Blood loss.
Huh.
His knife went all the way through his hand. Tip sticking a centimeter out of his palm. Between his third and fourth knuckles.
Everything was soaked in blood.
Axel started laughing.
Fucking bullshit.
Not bullshit like Axel didn't believe it, of course he believed it, cause first of all if Danya was just like straight up making shit up then they were all kinda double extra fucked, huh, like they'd have no jump-off point at all, nah, he was pretty sure all the shit the dude was spewing was for real, but second of all because like, of course it was true? Of course Lucas Brady would take the coward's way out, fucking take himself down before he found one of the precious few people who managed to hate him more than he obviously hated himself? Not that that number wasn't growing larger all the time, probably the right time to do it, wasn't it, before Axel found him and tore his face off his body. It was funny cause he hadn't had the energy to realize how fucking badly he wanted to do that until it became officially too late.
He could deface (heh) a corpse, he guessed, but that didn't really appeal.
It was a big so now what sort of moment, as though he'd been on some kinda epic vengeance quest instead of sleepwalking for nearly two full days. The fucking epic vengeance quest had been right there though. Like he'd seen the quest popup and then just. Not. Just kept walking. We can do that later. There was always later. It was one of those things. Time didn't really pass until you did stuff so if you just didn't do anything you had forever. Right? Like, in games, and shit, and this was real life, but it kinda felt that way, anyways. Nothing felt real, anyways.
He wasn't making sense. Probably the blood loss.
Blood loss.
Huh.
His knife went all the way through his hand. Tip sticking a centimeter out of his palm. Between his third and fourth knuckles.
Everything was soaked in blood.
Axel started laughing.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
First aid. Yep. They had it. In the bags. It’d definitely help. Ayup. Shit was so red-alert that Abe didn’t even have time to make sure he was using someone else’s supplies, but like, no sense in making it to the end with twenty unused elixirs in his inventory, right, that was a completely tonally appropriate comparison? Patching up your bros meant it was more likely that you’d continue to have bros, who could patch you up if you stabbed yourself with a knife like a complete dipshit moron.
Kit in hand, Abe returned to Axel’s side, not paying much attention to the slightly stirring Hel, because Axel was understandably cackling like someone who just realized he’d royally fucked up the knife game. Abe just, kinda stood there for a moment, watching him, not even clicking open the first aid he was clutching in his sweaty deathgrip hands, because, well, he had the aid, but how was he supposed to aid, y’know?
When you had something inside of you that wasn’t supposed to be inside you, and it wasn’t like, stuck in your ass, you weren’t supposed to just yank it out, right? Like, he remembered watching internet funnymen roast shitty movies and be all like ‘no you dipshit don’t tug the arrow out of your chest’ and who could you trust as a reliable source if not discount mystery science theater cosplayers?
But also. Axel had a knife in his hand. Allllll the way in his hand. It just wasn’t sustainable for Axel to have Edward Knifepalm hands for the literal rest of his life, so, it was gonna have to come out, right, haha? Like, that was the least bad of the terrible options he could think of, right?
“Okay, okay, shut the fuck up, one of us is gonna have to pull that thing out, and if you’re too much of a pussy, I’ll do it,” Abe said, pretending to be very confident in his ability to remove a real sharp blade from a real human being without losing his entire shit.
Kit in hand, Abe returned to Axel’s side, not paying much attention to the slightly stirring Hel, because Axel was understandably cackling like someone who just realized he’d royally fucked up the knife game. Abe just, kinda stood there for a moment, watching him, not even clicking open the first aid he was clutching in his sweaty deathgrip hands, because, well, he had the aid, but how was he supposed to aid, y’know?
When you had something inside of you that wasn’t supposed to be inside you, and it wasn’t like, stuck in your ass, you weren’t supposed to just yank it out, right? Like, he remembered watching internet funnymen roast shitty movies and be all like ‘no you dipshit don’t tug the arrow out of your chest’ and who could you trust as a reliable source if not discount mystery science theater cosplayers?
But also. Axel had a knife in his hand. Allllll the way in his hand. It just wasn’t sustainable for Axel to have Edward Knifepalm hands for the literal rest of his life, so, it was gonna have to come out, right, haha? Like, that was the least bad of the terrible options he could think of, right?
“Okay, okay, shut the fuck up, one of us is gonna have to pull that thing out, and if you’re too much of a pussy, I’ll do it,” Abe said, pretending to be very confident in his ability to remove a real sharp blade from a real human being without losing his entire shit.
"Yo, nah, like, it's fine? It's cool."
It kinda was.
Axel looked at his hand, which continued to have a knife in it, cause that was one of those things that didn't really change until you made it, but it was fucking wild, every moment, it was probably supposed to hurt and it did but maybe not as much as it was supposed to. Maybe he was in shock or something. Maybe he was still too numb to feel even pain properly but nah, he felt something, he felt a lot of things, actually, hell of a lot more than he'd felt a few minutes ago, mumbling whatever words fell out of his face at Abe. He hadn't laughed in more than two days and it sounded kinda wrong but whatever. Whatever to a lot of things.
He tried to move his fingers. His pinkie and ring finger moved a little, tenuously. The other three didn't respond.
He remembered he'd wanted to bring his guitar on the trip. No idea if he'd even be allowed if he tried, but Andy had talked him out of it, they'd barely have time to play anyway and the risk of him fucking up and leaving it somewhere was too high. Which, yeah, would be pretty in character for him, but the upshot was now he didn't remember what the last song he'd ever played was, and he stared at his hand and willed it into G major and it did nothing, and like.
It wasn't like he was going home anyway, he knew that, he wasn't stupid, he was objectively pretty stupid, okay, but still, he knew.
What did he really know, though?
He'd had big dreams like every stupid kid and every stupid kid on this island had had those stomped out of them the moment they'd woken up and it wasn't like he was any different but maybe he was, somehow, maybe he'd been clinging to something, maybe he'd just not given it enough thought, maybe he just didn't want to think about anything, maybe his best friend had died and he'd stared down his body and not done a goddamn thing and worms were eating him and Axel had a hole through his hand and he couldn't play a stupid guitar ever ever again.
He never could've.
"Yo, Abe?"
Abe and Hel were still here. He could will that to matter but not really anything else. Something felt like fire and he was somehow still smiling.
"I think I figured somethin' out."
It kinda was.
Axel looked at his hand, which continued to have a knife in it, cause that was one of those things that didn't really change until you made it, but it was fucking wild, every moment, it was probably supposed to hurt and it did but maybe not as much as it was supposed to. Maybe he was in shock or something. Maybe he was still too numb to feel even pain properly but nah, he felt something, he felt a lot of things, actually, hell of a lot more than he'd felt a few minutes ago, mumbling whatever words fell out of his face at Abe. He hadn't laughed in more than two days and it sounded kinda wrong but whatever. Whatever to a lot of things.
He tried to move his fingers. His pinkie and ring finger moved a little, tenuously. The other three didn't respond.
He remembered he'd wanted to bring his guitar on the trip. No idea if he'd even be allowed if he tried, but Andy had talked him out of it, they'd barely have time to play anyway and the risk of him fucking up and leaving it somewhere was too high. Which, yeah, would be pretty in character for him, but the upshot was now he didn't remember what the last song he'd ever played was, and he stared at his hand and willed it into G major and it did nothing, and like.
It wasn't like he was going home anyway, he knew that, he wasn't stupid, he was objectively pretty stupid, okay, but still, he knew.
What did he really know, though?
He'd had big dreams like every stupid kid and every stupid kid on this island had had those stomped out of them the moment they'd woken up and it wasn't like he was any different but maybe he was, somehow, maybe he'd been clinging to something, maybe he'd just not given it enough thought, maybe he just didn't want to think about anything, maybe his best friend had died and he'd stared down his body and not done a goddamn thing and worms were eating him and Axel had a hole through his hand and he couldn't play a stupid guitar ever ever again.
He never could've.
"Yo, Abe?"
Abe and Hel were still here. He could will that to matter but not really anything else. Something felt like fire and he was somehow still smiling.
"I think I figured somethin' out."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
“What’s that? That you’re gonna die just like Andy?”
[Lorenzo Tavares continued from The Big Sleep]
The voice boomed forward out of the trees, and following it came the form of a surprisingly calm Lorenzo Tavares, uzi-pro in hand and pointed at the three other students in his line of sight. Well, to be more specific, pointed directly at Axel Fontaine. Lorenzo stepped out of the trees and brush until he was fully visible, never taking his eyes off of the ruby-haired boy before him. Once upon a time, this might be a happy reunion. They may have taken refuge with one another, perhaps helped to mend one another’s wounds. But no. Lorenzo had nothing like that left inside him now. All he had left inside him was despair and hatred. Despair for the fallen. Despair for the living. Hatred for their situation. Hatred for his fellow students. Hatred for himself. None of the playfulness that once danced behind his eyes remained. Instead his eyes were cold and heavy.
“Who’d have thought we’d see each-other again so soon?” He said with a casual tone that belied the scowl on his face. He dug into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out the tracking device, showing the screen off to the three in front of him, the blinking dots on screen numbered at four.
“This led me right to you. Too bad. I’d rather not have to see your face again.” He seethed. He returned the tracker to his pocket and shrugged his shoulders dramatically, letting a small chuckle spill from his lips.
“Traitor bastard.” He spit to the side to show his disgust. He let his eyes roam away from Axel for a moment to finally take in who the other two were. He frowned at seeing them. Two people he really didn’t give a shit about. Hel and Abe.
“You left me for dead back then. Both of you.” He felt his arm shake a bit before it steadied again. His eyes stared a hole straight through Axel’s forehead. A hole he could make real with the simple pull of a trigger.
“But I’m alive. I’m alive, and you let Andy die.” His voice grew louder and more angry with each word. His brow furrowed and his free hand balled into a fist.
“Pathetic.”
[Lorenzo Tavares continued from The Big Sleep]
The voice boomed forward out of the trees, and following it came the form of a surprisingly calm Lorenzo Tavares, uzi-pro in hand and pointed at the three other students in his line of sight. Well, to be more specific, pointed directly at Axel Fontaine. Lorenzo stepped out of the trees and brush until he was fully visible, never taking his eyes off of the ruby-haired boy before him. Once upon a time, this might be a happy reunion. They may have taken refuge with one another, perhaps helped to mend one another’s wounds. But no. Lorenzo had nothing like that left inside him now. All he had left inside him was despair and hatred. Despair for the fallen. Despair for the living. Hatred for their situation. Hatred for his fellow students. Hatred for himself. None of the playfulness that once danced behind his eyes remained. Instead his eyes were cold and heavy.
“Who’d have thought we’d see each-other again so soon?” He said with a casual tone that belied the scowl on his face. He dug into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out the tracking device, showing the screen off to the three in front of him, the blinking dots on screen numbered at four.
“This led me right to you. Too bad. I’d rather not have to see your face again.” He seethed. He returned the tracker to his pocket and shrugged his shoulders dramatically, letting a small chuckle spill from his lips.
“Traitor bastard.” He spit to the side to show his disgust. He let his eyes roam away from Axel for a moment to finally take in who the other two were. He frowned at seeing them. Two people he really didn’t give a shit about. Hel and Abe.
“You left me for dead back then. Both of you.” He felt his arm shake a bit before it steadied again. His eyes stared a hole straight through Axel’s forehead. A hole he could make real with the simple pull of a trigger.
“But I’m alive. I’m alive, and you let Andy die.” His voice grew louder and more angry with each word. His brow furrowed and his free hand balled into a fist.
“Pathetic.”
"Oh—'sup, Renzo?"
Hold that thought.
Axel remembered, ages ago, when they'd first run into Abe, and he was acting totally normal, which was both weird as fuck and completely expected coming from him. It was the gun that was really incongruous, the one inescapable reminder that they weren't on the world's shittiest camping trip. Took him a couple of days to get used to it, but he kinda had to considering the fucking thing never left Abe's hand. Pretty sure he slept hugging it like a teddy bear. Hel wore their's worse, and every time he saw it on their waistband they had the urge to just wrench it away, throw it into the river or something, not like he wanted it, not like he should take away the one thing they had to defend themself, but. He didn't wanna say he didn't trust them, that was big Shitty Boyfriend behavior, but maybe he didn't, and maybe that was fine. Just for now, just here. He'd kept it all to himself.
All that worrying about guns, but he felt nothing with one aimed squarely at his head.
Not like he didn't know what it could do, y'know? Not that he'd seen that, specifically, yet, probably just a matter of time, but he'd played a bunch of video games, and also his brother had gone down with a fucking twig in his skull, and bullets generally outclassed branches. Not like he didn't think Lorenzo would do it, either, not like he hadn't killed someone less than 24 hours prior. Missed a day a couple of days ago, yeah? Had to get his streak up or whatever.
Lorenzo could end this conversation whenever he wanted. Course Abe and Hel had their guns, no fucking chance he'd leave this clearing alive if he did, but maybe that didn't matter to him anymore.
Didn't really matter to Axel, anyways.
His mouth tasted like bile, again. He hadn't seen Andy die but it had been close enough. Maybe he'd let him die, sure. Whatever Lorenzo wanted.
He stood up slowly, fingers stretching reflexively, five on the right hand and two on the left. He rolled his neck, audibly cracking twice as he changed directions. Felt good. Like he'd spent way too long sitting still. He was trying real hard, huh? That was fair. Would've worked yesterday. Would've worked an hour ago. Still worked, kinda. Whatever fire had started building inside him spread to his limbs and it was familiar in a weird way, more excitement than rage, the moments before he accidentally knocked Andy's lamp over, playfighting in the hotel room back in DC.
Felt good. Felt fucking wrong. He rejected it, he rejected himself, and that felt good, too.
"You got a lot to say, my dude," he said in a voice so foreign he barely recognized it. "Rough couple of days? Murder's gotta be tiring, yeah?"
He glanced back at Abe, at Hel, back at Abe. Hel was barely conscious. He mouthed a single word and trusted him to get the message. Abe was an asshole and everything, but the least he knew how to do was protect his own skin. And he was fondish of Hel, and that was gonna have to be enough for now.
"You do the villain monologue thing every time? Ain't the best look."
Hold that thought.
Axel remembered, ages ago, when they'd first run into Abe, and he was acting totally normal, which was both weird as fuck and completely expected coming from him. It was the gun that was really incongruous, the one inescapable reminder that they weren't on the world's shittiest camping trip. Took him a couple of days to get used to it, but he kinda had to considering the fucking thing never left Abe's hand. Pretty sure he slept hugging it like a teddy bear. Hel wore their's worse, and every time he saw it on their waistband they had the urge to just wrench it away, throw it into the river or something, not like he wanted it, not like he should take away the one thing they had to defend themself, but. He didn't wanna say he didn't trust them, that was big Shitty Boyfriend behavior, but maybe he didn't, and maybe that was fine. Just for now, just here. He'd kept it all to himself.
All that worrying about guns, but he felt nothing with one aimed squarely at his head.
Not like he didn't know what it could do, y'know? Not that he'd seen that, specifically, yet, probably just a matter of time, but he'd played a bunch of video games, and also his brother had gone down with a fucking twig in his skull, and bullets generally outclassed branches. Not like he didn't think Lorenzo would do it, either, not like he hadn't killed someone less than 24 hours prior. Missed a day a couple of days ago, yeah? Had to get his streak up or whatever.
Lorenzo could end this conversation whenever he wanted. Course Abe and Hel had their guns, no fucking chance he'd leave this clearing alive if he did, but maybe that didn't matter to him anymore.
Didn't really matter to Axel, anyways.
His mouth tasted like bile, again. He hadn't seen Andy die but it had been close enough. Maybe he'd let him die, sure. Whatever Lorenzo wanted.
He stood up slowly, fingers stretching reflexively, five on the right hand and two on the left. He rolled his neck, audibly cracking twice as he changed directions. Felt good. Like he'd spent way too long sitting still. He was trying real hard, huh? That was fair. Would've worked yesterday. Would've worked an hour ago. Still worked, kinda. Whatever fire had started building inside him spread to his limbs and it was familiar in a weird way, more excitement than rage, the moments before he accidentally knocked Andy's lamp over, playfighting in the hotel room back in DC.
Felt good. Felt fucking wrong. He rejected it, he rejected himself, and that felt good, too.
"You got a lot to say, my dude," he said in a voice so foreign he barely recognized it. "Rough couple of days? Murder's gotta be tiring, yeah?"
He glanced back at Abe, at Hel, back at Abe. Hel was barely conscious. He mouthed a single word and trusted him to get the message. Abe was an asshole and everything, but the least he knew how to do was protect his own skin. And he was fondish of Hel, and that was gonna have to be enough for now.
"You do the villain monologue thing every time? Ain't the best look."
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
Axel was being way too chill about this, which was probably better for Abe’s emotional state than if he’d been like crying and screaming his ass off like he had a knife sticking all the way through his hand; but, like, being chill about the problem didn’t solve the problem, which was a thought Abe should have internalized a long time ago but boy was it staring him in the face.
But before Abe could respond to Axel’s weird fucking ephiphiny or whatever, or before he could even decide whether he was gonna earnestly ask for an explanation or just go the obvious route of ‘what, that you’ve got a literal knife in your literal hand, dipshit’ fucking Lorenzo jumpscared out of the woods, with a gun.
This was obviously a big fucking deal, but under like, most circumstances it’d be less of a big deal, because Abe had a gun, and Hel had a gun, and Axel didn’t have a knife sticking through his entire palm. But, well, Axel had a knife sticking through his entire palm, Abe had set his gun down for five fucking seconds to deal with the knife, that was sticking through Axel’s entire palm, and he had no fucking clue what Hel’s relative existential status was except maybe awake.
Did he mention that there was still a knife in Axel’s hand? Yeah? Alright, whew, you’d hate to miss out on a vital detail like that, just like Axel was gonna be missing all the vital fluids that were leaking outta his body. Haha.
Maybe he should be less concerned about the aforementioned Axel-knife-hand situation than the fact that Lorenzo had a gun, and was like, belligerent, and aiming it in their direction, and he’d definitely killed at least one person over the last few days? He’d lost track. Thankfully, he wasn’t pointing the gun at Abe, but since he was pointing it at Abe’s favorite person in the area (besides himself) that wasn’t much of a consolation?
But, well, what could ya do? Lorenzo and Axel were having a good time making pointed remarks at the expense of each other’s characters, just some fun banter with the lads, and Axel was not-so-subtly telling him to get the fuck outta there, so, like. What could he do?
Abe slinked away back towards their packs, worried that if he ran it’d like trigger some motion-sensor-murder surprise from Lorenzo’s fun gun, and, like, that was kind of his loss condition there, haha, like, he didn’t want anyone there to get shot (well okay he didn’t care about Lorenzo) but, literally anything was better than Abe getting shot, yeah.
He crouched down, grabbed his gun - kept it lowered, back turned to Lorenzo, see, he wasn’t a threat, haha, keep your eyes peeled on the big scary bleeding fighting man, Abe wasn’t gonna be pulling any action hero shit but like he really needed to hold onto that gun - he shook Hel real hard, hissing “We gotta fucking go.”
He’d give them maybe five seconds before he tried to bodily drag them to their feet, because getting Hel away from any guns pointed in their direction was, like, obviously want Axel wanted him to do.
But before Abe could respond to Axel’s weird fucking ephiphiny or whatever, or before he could even decide whether he was gonna earnestly ask for an explanation or just go the obvious route of ‘what, that you’ve got a literal knife in your literal hand, dipshit’ fucking Lorenzo jumpscared out of the woods, with a gun.
This was obviously a big fucking deal, but under like, most circumstances it’d be less of a big deal, because Abe had a gun, and Hel had a gun, and Axel didn’t have a knife sticking through his entire palm. But, well, Axel had a knife sticking through his entire palm, Abe had set his gun down for five fucking seconds to deal with the knife, that was sticking through Axel’s entire palm, and he had no fucking clue what Hel’s relative existential status was except maybe awake.
Did he mention that there was still a knife in Axel’s hand? Yeah? Alright, whew, you’d hate to miss out on a vital detail like that, just like Axel was gonna be missing all the vital fluids that were leaking outta his body. Haha.
Maybe he should be less concerned about the aforementioned Axel-knife-hand situation than the fact that Lorenzo had a gun, and was like, belligerent, and aiming it in their direction, and he’d definitely killed at least one person over the last few days? He’d lost track. Thankfully, he wasn’t pointing the gun at Abe, but since he was pointing it at Abe’s favorite person in the area (besides himself) that wasn’t much of a consolation?
But, well, what could ya do? Lorenzo and Axel were having a good time making pointed remarks at the expense of each other’s characters, just some fun banter with the lads, and Axel was not-so-subtly telling him to get the fuck outta there, so, like. What could he do?
Abe slinked away back towards their packs, worried that if he ran it’d like trigger some motion-sensor-murder surprise from Lorenzo’s fun gun, and, like, that was kind of his loss condition there, haha, like, he didn’t want anyone there to get shot (well okay he didn’t care about Lorenzo) but, literally anything was better than Abe getting shot, yeah.
He crouched down, grabbed his gun - kept it lowered, back turned to Lorenzo, see, he wasn’t a threat, haha, keep your eyes peeled on the big scary bleeding fighting man, Abe wasn’t gonna be pulling any action hero shit but like he really needed to hold onto that gun - he shook Hel real hard, hissing “We gotta fucking go.”
He’d give them maybe five seconds before he tried to bodily drag them to their feet, because getting Hel away from any guns pointed in their direction was, like, obviously want Axel wanted him to do.