Nathan was chilled by the scream that rang out in the empty forest. The sheer mirth of that yell was so out of place and yet it was here. It wasn't Brook's voice either. It belonged to someone else.
"Nath"
It took effort for him to not blow their cover when Jason spoke. He had moved silently and swiftly through the forest and had even caught Nathan off guard. His eyes followed the guidance of Jason's hand and towards his backpack. The gun. The gun he had almost killed Jason with, the gun he had almost died by.
"Whatever it takes."
Nathan gulped and said nothing. Jason's eyes bore through him, the graveness of the request clearly evident in the stare. They were coming up against a monster. That monster was their friend.
Jason was tasking the two of them to slay that monster if they couldn't tame it...
Nathan found himself nodding, "Alright."
He fished the pistol from his back pack and used the tree to guid himself up to a standing position. His body felt stiff with tension, as if he was preparing for another race. Normally, that would mean it was time to stretch, to prepare, to get in the zone. There was no time for that.
He wanted to look away from the carnage that was displayed before him, but it was impossible for him to do so. It was sheer chaos, bodies strewn about like ragdolls haphazzardly tossed across a playpen. Blood was scattered across the green grass and onto the wood of the surrounding trees in the grove.
Brook's voice made Nathan pause. The voice was his, yet the language was childlike to him. It sounded as if he was a mere alien, there was a human aspect to his voice, but it was slightly off kilter. Out of place.
Jason kept moving forwards gentley easing Brook into conversation. It was then that Brook appeared into Nathan's vision and he couldn't help but let his jaw go slack. Brook looked liked something that belonged inside a slasher film. Blood coated his face and stained his clothing little droplets had run down to the tips of his fingers before gently plumetting to the earth below. His hair was mussed up in a disorganized shamble, looking as tangled as some of the plants that his friend took care of back home.
"Brook mate. It's over. We've come to take you home."
Nathan couldn't help but flinch back a half step. Looking at the situation right now, this didn't look like a successful attempt in the making. He couldn't help but feel like they were making a huge mistake.
Bloodgarden
An endless dedication... (CONTENT WARNING)
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GregTheAnti-Viking†
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Unbelievable.
The scene unfolding in front of Brook's very eyes transcended mere incredibility. After who knows how many days, or weeks or years in the garden's existence... nobody cared about time anymore, he was sure... Jason and Nathan came into being for him. How unfathomable it seemed that the three of them might meet up here again.
"J... Jason?" Brook uttered with a genuine gasp, a smile creeping steadily onto his face. "Oh, w-wow... I wasn't sure when I was going to see you guys again. And you're alive! Imagine that!"
His arms hung loosely at his sides. The gun felt heavy; it felt lethal, but also lethargic. Nobody had to die just yet, no matter the insurmountable hatred that laid just beyond the floodgates of his smile. For a moment, perhaps the splendor of the garden might allow them all to relive the times in which they were all friends. Maybe just for a moment, Brook didn't want to see their guts spill out all over the ground.
Happiness can come in many shades, however, as Brook had soon learned. There were now three living people in the verified garden of madness, but part of his mind told him there should have been four. They were all together, but now they wanted to bring him home.
"Y-... you know, I missed you both a little. Buth, uh, where's Maf?" Brook asked, turning his head and looking as though searching behind the two, as if the Fijian boy was hiding behind a tree. "Or was he on..."
Deaths blur together. It's become meaningless a long time ago. Focus.
Brook shook his head, the beginnings of a moan becoming caught in his throat. "N-Never mind that. It's nice, Jason, that you're doing all of these things, but..." The gardener turned away from the rescue party, walking through his own creation as he gestured with his free hand. "I can't exactly leave all of this when I've spent so much time bleedings bits and pieces of myself all over it." A demented chuckle fragmented the sentence. "Oh, well, in the metaphorical sense. None of this blood is actually mine."
It's been a long road, but we're almost here. She cries out for it. She wants him...
He had nearly reached the far end of the garden before turning around, staring directly at Jason. "Besides, you know just as well as I do that they're not going to take me back. I've killed way... waaaaaaay too many people, Jason!"
A hand and gun raised.
"And... and you know who's fault that is? Not mine... not mine, Jason!"
The hatred was shining through. This petty facade didn't have to be held up any longer. The walls of Brook's own creation screamed at him and drove him foward, sending him to confront his best friend and sworn enemy. Both of them would not leave to fuck up somebody else's life... this was their fault. THEIR FAULT. Not his!
"See, I came to terms with the monster I am a long time ago. The millions and millions watching at home? They know I'm fucked up! Shit, Jason, I know I'm fucked up!" Brook wanted to scream, to roar his words to the world and ram them right through Jason and Nathan's fucking heads until they were shitting vowels. No... but that would only reinforce the image of his own insanity. Brook wasn't crazy... he wasn't crazy. Just a little broken. And so his voice remained low. It remained low, and it grew harsher. It grew harsher, and it became colder.
So cold...
"But you... you, Jason... heh... why can't you come to terms with what you are? You made me. You made all of this. All of this behind me and in front of me and around me, so take a damn good look. Look long and hard... because just like you did to me..."
The gun moved again. Poised. Ready to kill.
"I'm going to take everything from you that you ever cared about."
The trigger was pulled, and a bullet was sent with love to Nathan Choultard.
The scene unfolding in front of Brook's very eyes transcended mere incredibility. After who knows how many days, or weeks or years in the garden's existence... nobody cared about time anymore, he was sure... Jason and Nathan came into being for him. How unfathomable it seemed that the three of them might meet up here again.
"J... Jason?" Brook uttered with a genuine gasp, a smile creeping steadily onto his face. "Oh, w-wow... I wasn't sure when I was going to see you guys again. And you're alive! Imagine that!"
His arms hung loosely at his sides. The gun felt heavy; it felt lethal, but also lethargic. Nobody had to die just yet, no matter the insurmountable hatred that laid just beyond the floodgates of his smile. For a moment, perhaps the splendor of the garden might allow them all to relive the times in which they were all friends. Maybe just for a moment, Brook didn't want to see their guts spill out all over the ground.
Happiness can come in many shades, however, as Brook had soon learned. There were now three living people in the verified garden of madness, but part of his mind told him there should have been four. They were all together, but now they wanted to bring him home.
"Y-... you know, I missed you both a little. Buth, uh, where's Maf?" Brook asked, turning his head and looking as though searching behind the two, as if the Fijian boy was hiding behind a tree. "Or was he on..."
Deaths blur together. It's become meaningless a long time ago. Focus.
Brook shook his head, the beginnings of a moan becoming caught in his throat. "N-Never mind that. It's nice, Jason, that you're doing all of these things, but..." The gardener turned away from the rescue party, walking through his own creation as he gestured with his free hand. "I can't exactly leave all of this when I've spent so much time bleedings bits and pieces of myself all over it." A demented chuckle fragmented the sentence. "Oh, well, in the metaphorical sense. None of this blood is actually mine."
It's been a long road, but we're almost here. She cries out for it. She wants him...
He had nearly reached the far end of the garden before turning around, staring directly at Jason. "Besides, you know just as well as I do that they're not going to take me back. I've killed way... waaaaaaay too many people, Jason!"
A hand and gun raised.
"And... and you know who's fault that is? Not mine... not mine, Jason!"
The hatred was shining through. This petty facade didn't have to be held up any longer. The walls of Brook's own creation screamed at him and drove him foward, sending him to confront his best friend and sworn enemy. Both of them would not leave to fuck up somebody else's life... this was their fault. THEIR FAULT. Not his!
"See, I came to terms with the monster I am a long time ago. The millions and millions watching at home? They know I'm fucked up! Shit, Jason, I know I'm fucked up!" Brook wanted to scream, to roar his words to the world and ram them right through Jason and Nathan's fucking heads until they were shitting vowels. No... but that would only reinforce the image of his own insanity. Brook wasn't crazy... he wasn't crazy. Just a little broken. And so his voice remained low. It remained low, and it grew harsher. It grew harsher, and it became colder.
So cold...
"But you... you, Jason... heh... why can't you come to terms with what you are? You made me. You made all of this. All of this behind me and in front of me and around me, so take a damn good look. Look long and hard... because just like you did to me..."
The gun moved again. Poised. Ready to kill.
"I'm going to take everything from you that you ever cared about."
The trigger was pulled, and a bullet was sent with love to Nathan Choultard.
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GregTheAnti-Viking†
- Posts: 267
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:10 am
Nathan heard a pop and then there was a blank space. He blinked twice. He had fallen onto his back and found himself staring up at a canopy of green leaves. His breathing was heavy and his gut felt like...
Nathan moved his hands over his chest. It was damp, like some sort of syurp had been poured on him. He tried to bend up to a siting position, but there was a stinging pain protesting that he should not move up anymore. He lay back down and moved his hand up into his vision. His hand was stained with crimson.
Like he had been shot.
Nathan tried again to raise his head up, craning his neck to do so. He saw the gun in Brook's hands. Jason's head turned to Nathan. He said something, but his ears wouldn't stop ringing. Gravity forced Nathan's head back down to the ground.
Brook had shot him. Nathan grimaced, even though he knew Brook had snapped, he followed the trail to find him. Jason's hope had been infectious it seemed. Now he was paying for it. What was one more mistake to the pile?
He could hear the sounds of a scuffle taking place. Was it Jason and Brook fighting? He cursed his inability to make sense of the muted noises he was hearing.
Nathan's hands twitched and it dawned on him. His pistol was gone! Wait, not gone, nearby. It must have fallen when Brook shot him. His arms moved all around his body, groping in the dark to find his weapon.
This wasn't Jason's fault. It was his own for not speaking out against this plan. Jason did not deserve to die because of him. He needed to survive this. If Nathan was going to die. The least he could do for his friend is take out the man that was trying to kill him.
Despite his feverish searching, Nathan came up cold. It must be behind him, right behind his head or something. To reach it though, he had to turn himself around.
Breathing was becoming harder, more sporatic. Time was running out. He rocked back and forth as gently as he could. The pain in his gut was screaming at him, warning him that he would likely die faster.
So what, I'm a dead man anyways...
With a loud groan, Nathan flopped onto his belly the tingle of grass on his open wound shooting flashes of discomfort. The pistol was there, about an arm and a half out of reach. Nathan coughed, sending red spit to fly out into the forest floor. So he would have to crawl to get to it.
Fine...
Nathan stretched out his arms and used his legs to push him on. He was moving up an inch with every push. It was taking too long. He wasn't going to be able to save Jason.
"God damn it legs work!"
His arm reached out to the pistol, straining, hoping to touch the handle.
"I'm running out of time damn it!"
Nathan moved his hands over his chest. It was damp, like some sort of syurp had been poured on him. He tried to bend up to a siting position, but there was a stinging pain protesting that he should not move up anymore. He lay back down and moved his hand up into his vision. His hand was stained with crimson.
Like he had been shot.
Nathan tried again to raise his head up, craning his neck to do so. He saw the gun in Brook's hands. Jason's head turned to Nathan. He said something, but his ears wouldn't stop ringing. Gravity forced Nathan's head back down to the ground.
Brook had shot him. Nathan grimaced, even though he knew Brook had snapped, he followed the trail to find him. Jason's hope had been infectious it seemed. Now he was paying for it. What was one more mistake to the pile?
He could hear the sounds of a scuffle taking place. Was it Jason and Brook fighting? He cursed his inability to make sense of the muted noises he was hearing.
Nathan's hands twitched and it dawned on him. His pistol was gone! Wait, not gone, nearby. It must have fallen when Brook shot him. His arms moved all around his body, groping in the dark to find his weapon.
This wasn't Jason's fault. It was his own for not speaking out against this plan. Jason did not deserve to die because of him. He needed to survive this. If Nathan was going to die. The least he could do for his friend is take out the man that was trying to kill him.
Despite his feverish searching, Nathan came up cold. It must be behind him, right behind his head or something. To reach it though, he had to turn himself around.
Breathing was becoming harder, more sporatic. Time was running out. He rocked back and forth as gently as he could. The pain in his gut was screaming at him, warning him that he would likely die faster.
So what, I'm a dead man anyways...
With a loud groan, Nathan flopped onto his belly the tingle of grass on his open wound shooting flashes of discomfort. The pistol was there, about an arm and a half out of reach. Nathan coughed, sending red spit to fly out into the forest floor. So he would have to crawl to get to it.
Fine...
Nathan stretched out his arms and used his legs to push him on. He was moving up an inch with every push. It was taking too long. He wasn't going to be able to save Jason.
"God damn it legs work!"
His arm reached out to the pistol, straining, hoping to touch the handle.
"I'm running out of time damn it!"
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Brook's gun was up, faster than Jason thought he could move. It wasn't like in the movies where everyone could draw at once. Reaction time for the visuo-spatial cortex to spot the movement: 50milliseconds. Time to cognitively process the action: 200milliseconds. Time to translate and perform required necessarily reaction: way too slow.
A loud crack echoed through the base of his skull as Jason felt more than heard the two shots fly by him punching Nathan off his feet. This was not how it was supposed to go damn it. This was not how it ended. They were friends, they were supposed to protect each other. Jason didn't understand. He was so angry, a fury that he had never felt before.
His own pistol went up and he blasted away at Brook, pushing himself off his feet and ramming in to his friend.
"No! NO! NO NO NO NO NO!" He roared as he hurled himself in to Brook. The impact was jarring. Jason didn't have the body weight or the momentum to carry the duo far, but it was enough to catch Brook off balance sending the two tumbling in to the mushy ground of the garden. He felt a jab to one side and another on the side of his head but he too far gone. Ever second of pent up frustration, anxiety, worry was releasing itself in this moment, hammering away, struggling, somehow to make everything right.
Thousands of years of biological instinct had kicked in and every piece of the lizard brain screamed out at him to wreak vengeance. Every year of learning about restraint, every second concerning society's disapproval of violence, blown away by the intensity of this one singular moment.
He swung again at Brook.
"You don't get to do this! This isn't how this goes!"
A blow to the face stunned him for a moment and he staggered back.
A loud crack echoed through the base of his skull as Jason felt more than heard the two shots fly by him punching Nathan off his feet. This was not how it was supposed to go damn it. This was not how it ended. They were friends, they were supposed to protect each other. Jason didn't understand. He was so angry, a fury that he had never felt before.
His own pistol went up and he blasted away at Brook, pushing himself off his feet and ramming in to his friend.
"No! NO! NO NO NO NO NO!" He roared as he hurled himself in to Brook. The impact was jarring. Jason didn't have the body weight or the momentum to carry the duo far, but it was enough to catch Brook off balance sending the two tumbling in to the mushy ground of the garden. He felt a jab to one side and another on the side of his head but he too far gone. Ever second of pent up frustration, anxiety, worry was releasing itself in this moment, hammering away, struggling, somehow to make everything right.
Thousands of years of biological instinct had kicked in and every piece of the lizard brain screamed out at him to wreak vengeance. Every year of learning about restraint, every second concerning society's disapproval of violence, blown away by the intensity of this one singular moment.
He swung again at Brook.
"You don't get to do this! This isn't how this goes!"
A blow to the face stunned him for a moment and he staggered back.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
"Get the fuck off me!" Brook growled through ragged breaths. His face hurt... Jason certainly knew how to throw those fucking punches, but things could've been far worse. Jason had shot back shortly after Nathan hit the ground, much to the surprise of the gardener. How the guy could have thought that he somehow had the right to fire back was beyond any manageable thought Brook could come up with, and yet he had. The fact that the rushed shot had managed to miss and get caught in a tree somewhere in the distance came to some relief... but the relief tended to be mitigated when your face was sore as hell.
"Ha... h-heh heh, what do you mean I don't get to do this to you?" Brook panted, backpedaling to increase the distance from his former friend and currently stunned adversary. "Things d-don't always go like you want them to! They just... they just don't!"
The statement didn't sound cool, much less glamorous, but it was true. And what more should Jason have expected? He was the uncredited monster, the killer nobody seemed to focus on or care about. If... no, when Brook got his way, he'd be sure to rub the fact all over Jason's face before killing him. He would be the one placed closest to Tiffany, to feel her pain the most vididly. It had to be better than feeling nothing at all.
"I think after what you did, I get to do aaaaaaaanything I want!"
Jason's stagger wouldn't last long, and Brook knew it. That pummeling hard jarred him up a little, though. Shit, that wasn't good... for a moment, he nearly dropped his gun, and that probably could have been the end of the run right there. Of course Jason would be a bastard and take advantage of it. Fortune instead found it fit to keep the gun in his hand, even if he had lost pretty much ninety percent of his grip on it, to the point where he couldn't be sure if he was holding it by the trigger or the barrel at this point without looking.
Run. Hide. Position yourself and shoot the bastard... spill it everywhere! Spill it everywhere!!
Brook managed to press himself behind one of the thicker trees surrounding the clearing as a bullet chipped away some of the bark.
"Seriously!?" He screamed through the oak. Who gave a shit what kind of oak it was? It was an oak. A stupid, soon-to-be-rotten oak that paled in comparison to this point in Brook's life. It all banked on being able to take care of just one more person... one more plant to perfection. "Can... C-can you really keep shooting at your good ol' buddy Brook, Jason?" The taunting likely wouldn't work, but DAMN was it a glimmer of fun in a moment of crisis.
Jason didn't appear to find it as too much fun, though. Brook dared to take a look around the tree, and had to jerk back before he caught some chips of bark, and possibly a bullet, to the face.
Fucking bastard! Where the hell are you? You don't win... you can't win, nobody wins! We all lost a long time ago!
Too much. This was becoming too much. Brook had been forced out of his own garden and, to make matters all the more insulting, it was by the person who had needlessly necessitated its creation in the first place.
"Fuck..."
Jason wouldn't get away with this slap in the face, this vile transgression.
"Fuck you..."
Die... Die... DIE... DIE! DIE!! DIE!!!
"FUCK YOU, JASON!"
A being of nothing but fury left the relative safety of the oak, and the trigger on the gun depressed. The lingering memories of Tiffany, and anybody else in the garden, were shredded away in a leaden hail that filled the air. Brook screamed, but he could not hear himself over the automatic weapon splashing the clearing's edge where Jason was, where Jason had to be. Flashes of the boy appeared to Brook, only rekindling the self-mutilating torch of hatred as he made every attempt to kill him.
And then, as quick and sweet as the shooting began, it stopped.
"No... no no no, come on, I have to..."
Brook plunged a blood-soaked hand into his pocket to fish around for the clip. He pulled it back out to find, there in his eager clutch, the complete opposite of what he was looking for: absolutely nothing.
"F-Fuck, you d-damn..." Brook gasped, only to pause when a terrible pain washed over him. That blood on his hand looked a little fresher than usual. A few spots of it weren't like the caked iron mud that found itself embedded into every line of his palm. The warm, sickly wet fluid upon him now was fresh, distinguishable from the rest of the coating only through heat and vivid color. Then he looked down to find that a puddle of the same stuff had congregated around his lower abdomen, punctuated by three neat little holes in his shirt that he somehow never noticed until now.
His blood. Jason had shed his blood.
"Ha... h-heh heh, what do you mean I don't get to do this to you?" Brook panted, backpedaling to increase the distance from his former friend and currently stunned adversary. "Things d-don't always go like you want them to! They just... they just don't!"
The statement didn't sound cool, much less glamorous, but it was true. And what more should Jason have expected? He was the uncredited monster, the killer nobody seemed to focus on or care about. If... no, when Brook got his way, he'd be sure to rub the fact all over Jason's face before killing him. He would be the one placed closest to Tiffany, to feel her pain the most vididly. It had to be better than feeling nothing at all.
"I think after what you did, I get to do aaaaaaaanything I want!"
Jason's stagger wouldn't last long, and Brook knew it. That pummeling hard jarred him up a little, though. Shit, that wasn't good... for a moment, he nearly dropped his gun, and that probably could have been the end of the run right there. Of course Jason would be a bastard and take advantage of it. Fortune instead found it fit to keep the gun in his hand, even if he had lost pretty much ninety percent of his grip on it, to the point where he couldn't be sure if he was holding it by the trigger or the barrel at this point without looking.
Run. Hide. Position yourself and shoot the bastard... spill it everywhere! Spill it everywhere!!
Brook managed to press himself behind one of the thicker trees surrounding the clearing as a bullet chipped away some of the bark.
"Seriously!?" He screamed through the oak. Who gave a shit what kind of oak it was? It was an oak. A stupid, soon-to-be-rotten oak that paled in comparison to this point in Brook's life. It all banked on being able to take care of just one more person... one more plant to perfection. "Can... C-can you really keep shooting at your good ol' buddy Brook, Jason?" The taunting likely wouldn't work, but DAMN was it a glimmer of fun in a moment of crisis.
Jason didn't appear to find it as too much fun, though. Brook dared to take a look around the tree, and had to jerk back before he caught some chips of bark, and possibly a bullet, to the face.
Fucking bastard! Where the hell are you? You don't win... you can't win, nobody wins! We all lost a long time ago!
Too much. This was becoming too much. Brook had been forced out of his own garden and, to make matters all the more insulting, it was by the person who had needlessly necessitated its creation in the first place.
"Fuck..."
Jason wouldn't get away with this slap in the face, this vile transgression.
"Fuck you..."
Die... Die... DIE... DIE! DIE!! DIE!!!
"FUCK YOU, JASON!"
A being of nothing but fury left the relative safety of the oak, and the trigger on the gun depressed. The lingering memories of Tiffany, and anybody else in the garden, were shredded away in a leaden hail that filled the air. Brook screamed, but he could not hear himself over the automatic weapon splashing the clearing's edge where Jason was, where Jason had to be. Flashes of the boy appeared to Brook, only rekindling the self-mutilating torch of hatred as he made every attempt to kill him.
And then, as quick and sweet as the shooting began, it stopped.
"No... no no no, come on, I have to..."
Brook plunged a blood-soaked hand into his pocket to fish around for the clip. He pulled it back out to find, there in his eager clutch, the complete opposite of what he was looking for: absolutely nothing.
"F-Fuck, you d-damn..." Brook gasped, only to pause when a terrible pain washed over him. That blood on his hand looked a little fresher than usual. A few spots of it weren't like the caked iron mud that found itself embedded into every line of his palm. The warm, sickly wet fluid upon him now was fresh, distinguishable from the rest of the coating only through heat and vivid color. Then he looked down to find that a puddle of the same stuff had congregated around his lower abdomen, punctuated by three neat little holes in his shirt that he somehow never noticed until now.
His blood. Jason had shed his blood.
Jason was sure he had hit Brook but it didn't seem to have slowed the boy down one bit. He had thrown his dart gun to one side after the last shot had left the barrel the shrill metal ping signaling the hammer slamming against an empty hole. His second pistol, Maf's, was out just as fast flicking the safety as the dart gun impacted the ground, skittering across the ground. Jason had cut across, sliding behind a tree while sending a few shots out in the way of where Brook crouched. Flecks of bark spat off the ancient tree as Jason moved to gain ground, squeezing the trigger twice more.
The faint click of an empty gun signaled another switch of weapon. Tucking the gun in to his belt Jason yanked the paring knife from the pocket in his jeans, breaking in to a sprint to close the distance between the two. Every muscle of his body twitched in anticipation as the adrenaline flooded through him, making each ache, each bruise he had suffered over the last few days numb to his mind. Jason had reached the tree, Brook was looking down at his blood soaked shirt his face a mask of rage.
The blade lanced out at Brook, Jason gritting his teeth as the blade met thin air. Brook backpedaled, jerking back with each swipe of Jason's furious strikes.
"You're right Brook! You're right you know."
Brook struck out with his arm. Brook was taller and far stronger than Jason was and the haymaker almost caught him off gaurd. His block was lazy, taking the full force of the punch with both his arms, sending the knife skittering away to one side. Jason sent a knee in to Brook's abdomen giving him a brief respite as the gardener staggered back wincing in pain. He barely had time to suck in another breath before Brook was on him again, grappling this time, using his extra mass to overpower Jason.
If this was a straight brawl, both boys ready to fight brook would of crushed him. But it wasn't. Brook had been shot, had been struggling every day since the two had split up. Jason however had had a relatively easy time of it. He had far more in reserve.
Jason grunted as Brook bore him to the ground. "I made you in to this monster."
A punch to the ribs, a sickening crack, sharp pain.
Jason fought back pummeling smacking against the back of Brooks shoulder blades, kicking out with his legs, kneeing Brook's thigh. "I'm going to end this, I'm going to make this right."
He had tears in his eyes now. He knew this wasn't a faceless monster. This was his best friend. They had grown up together. Brook spat blood on his face as Jason's knee impacted hi stomach. Jason used the moment to free himself from his friend's grip and struggled to his feet, stepping away. He hissed at the sensation in his chest. It was his nerves were being scrapped with knives. He forced himself back in to the fray, swinging down at Brook with his left. The blow was blocked.
Fuck, he's strong." Jason though has the disengaged and Brook staggered back upwards. Jason was counting on better speed and endurance, but Brook didn't seem to be slowing down. Jason caught his first blow but not the second. They crashed to the ground, side-by-side. Brook wasted an instant, trying to claw himself back to his feet.
Crack
Jason swung his elbow across Brooks face. The blow was jarring enough for Jason, he couldn't imagine that Brook was any better off. His vision was suddenly obscured by sweat and Brook was upon him again. Something gave in the left side of Jason's chest and the ache radiated outwards like some sort of inferno. He let the rest of his body go limp and focused, trying to force all of his remaining strength in to his left arm. He gripped Brook's shoulder, his right arm struggling outwards for something, anything to grab.
Through the white hot pain of Brook's blows Jason caught a glimpse of Nathan struggling behind him, his gun being raised shakily in one hand.
"Shoot him Nath!" Jason cried as Brook's fists slammed down on him again. "Shoot him!"
Jason felt his hand slip around something. His left arm was failing. He grasped the object and swung, the edge at Brook. He felt the impact, but searing pain blacked him out for a second. Something crunched beneath the steel. Jason's hand slipped away and fell to the ground.
This is how it all ends.
The faint click of an empty gun signaled another switch of weapon. Tucking the gun in to his belt Jason yanked the paring knife from the pocket in his jeans, breaking in to a sprint to close the distance between the two. Every muscle of his body twitched in anticipation as the adrenaline flooded through him, making each ache, each bruise he had suffered over the last few days numb to his mind. Jason had reached the tree, Brook was looking down at his blood soaked shirt his face a mask of rage.
The blade lanced out at Brook, Jason gritting his teeth as the blade met thin air. Brook backpedaled, jerking back with each swipe of Jason's furious strikes.
"You're right Brook! You're right you know."
Brook struck out with his arm. Brook was taller and far stronger than Jason was and the haymaker almost caught him off gaurd. His block was lazy, taking the full force of the punch with both his arms, sending the knife skittering away to one side. Jason sent a knee in to Brook's abdomen giving him a brief respite as the gardener staggered back wincing in pain. He barely had time to suck in another breath before Brook was on him again, grappling this time, using his extra mass to overpower Jason.
If this was a straight brawl, both boys ready to fight brook would of crushed him. But it wasn't. Brook had been shot, had been struggling every day since the two had split up. Jason however had had a relatively easy time of it. He had far more in reserve.
Jason grunted as Brook bore him to the ground. "I made you in to this monster."
A punch to the ribs, a sickening crack, sharp pain.
Jason fought back pummeling smacking against the back of Brooks shoulder blades, kicking out with his legs, kneeing Brook's thigh. "I'm going to end this, I'm going to make this right."
He had tears in his eyes now. He knew this wasn't a faceless monster. This was his best friend. They had grown up together. Brook spat blood on his face as Jason's knee impacted hi stomach. Jason used the moment to free himself from his friend's grip and struggled to his feet, stepping away. He hissed at the sensation in his chest. It was his nerves were being scrapped with knives. He forced himself back in to the fray, swinging down at Brook with his left. The blow was blocked.
Fuck, he's strong." Jason though has the disengaged and Brook staggered back upwards. Jason was counting on better speed and endurance, but Brook didn't seem to be slowing down. Jason caught his first blow but not the second. They crashed to the ground, side-by-side. Brook wasted an instant, trying to claw himself back to his feet.
Crack
Jason swung his elbow across Brooks face. The blow was jarring enough for Jason, he couldn't imagine that Brook was any better off. His vision was suddenly obscured by sweat and Brook was upon him again. Something gave in the left side of Jason's chest and the ache radiated outwards like some sort of inferno. He let the rest of his body go limp and focused, trying to force all of his remaining strength in to his left arm. He gripped Brook's shoulder, his right arm struggling outwards for something, anything to grab.
Through the white hot pain of Brook's blows Jason caught a glimpse of Nathan struggling behind him, his gun being raised shakily in one hand.
"Shoot him Nath!" Jason cried as Brook's fists slammed down on him again. "Shoot him!"
Jason felt his hand slip around something. His left arm was failing. He grasped the object and swung, the edge at Brook. He felt the impact, but searing pain blacked him out for a second. Something crunched beneath the steel. Jason's hand slipped away and fell to the ground.
This is how it all ends.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fanatic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Pain. Everything was pain.
Yeah, that... that whatever-it-was that just clocked him in the head hurt pretty damn good, and his gut felt like it was going to weaken at the seams and spill open like a paper bag full of chilli, but the agony that Brook felt himself becoming immersed in hurt from his head down to his toes, inside and outside. His desire to see Jason dead in front of him, contorted into some humorously ironic position and killed in a disgraceful manner ran so deep that it hurt, as did the memory of why he was doing all of this in the first place.
That, or the fact he was beginning to lose that memory in the first place.
Tiffany... he killed her.
Yes, it was that simple. Jason had killed Tiffany, but any other detail of that day escaped Brook's mind the moment he tried to focus on it. If anything positive had happened, the negative had shoved it aside. The love held for Tiffany... the love he held for Jason as the man he always wanted beside him in school, maybe college, maybe even as his best man... both washed away with hate and some pathetic imitation... a pathetic mockery of 'dedication'. Everything had been lost in blood.
But if that was the way it was going to be, it wasn't going to stop until Jason finally lay at Brook's feet, his throat crushed by a single stomp from his boot. This wasn't for Tiffany anymore, but for himself. This was his fault.
His fault. His fault. Why won't my body move? It's just blood, it's just pain, it's just...
Impossible.
"So, uh..."
"Dude, eyes on the road."
"Right, right. I'm just wondering if... you know, she'll like the flowers!"
"She? I thought you said you were getting this for the store."
"... That's what I meant. The owner of the store. Not the nursery, but the boutique at the mall. I'm just wondering if she'll like the heather more than the stuff I usually bring her."
"She better, I think I broke my arm just getting it!"
"..."
"Right. 'Ey, mate, there's no blood... see? So don't worry about it. Just... eyes on the road, we'll get this taken care of."
"S-sure, sure. I was just checking, y'know? This... uh, it's my boss's car. Can't have... uh... blood... all over it."
"Ha, I guess not..."
"... Hey, Jason?"
"Yeah, mate?"
"Thanks for coming."
"Yeah. Lot of help I was, right?"
"No, really. Thank you for coming. It... um... showed me you really cared about all of this."
"You're my friend, Brook. What are buds for?"
Brook stumbled towards Jason, arms outstretched. Nothing would be more personal than this moment. Even without weapons, all it took was a pair of hands to squeeze that throat, juuuust above the collar. The only distactions were the world of pain that inhabited his body, and a large amount of wetness on his forehead.
He told himself it was sweat time and time again as he continued to attempt his assault. Jason's arms had come up, letting go of whatever he had in his hand. Whatever it was, it was the thing that had been raked across Brook's forehead. None of that mattered right now anyhow. Just Jason's throat, a pipeline of life that two thumbs pressing against could disconnect ever so easily, provided they could get by the defending arms... that was all that mattered.
The rest of the world closed off from Brook, and it became just him and Jason. His muscles worked with every fiber of their being to accomplish a goal that, while it surrounded them both in body, it had all but been lost to Brook's mind, washed away in crimson tides just like everything else. This cause may have been a hollow one, but there was nothing else he could do. His eyes remained locked on Jason's, even when the smaller boy's attempts to keep the hands from his throat started to prevail.
No... wait, come on...
His glare of victory became one of gaze and shock, unable to interpret what Jason's eyes were saying anymore. That had become lost to Brook, and that scared him more than anything. It frightened him just a little bit more than...
The blood washed down from the gash that he pretended wasn't in his forehead, and the image of Jason Harris turned red... then black.
This...
This... is my...
He could ignore it no longer. Blood meant pain, and injury and death. This game was all death, and despair, and misery leading up to the aforementioned death. Brook had plenty of time to cry about it earlier... he remembered all of that from his first waking moments in this hellhole. And then, almost seconds later in his memory, the first hard evidence of life's fragility fell in front of his very eyes. He couldn't even catch her before she hit the mud.
That was what blood meant... one day your time would be up, and your life would be over. The only way to overcome such an omen was to embrace it. And so Brook washed himself in blood. So much blood... he had lost track of what was who's, who's was where, and made excuses for it existing. He kept it with him to the degree where its meaning became archaic, a disgusting plaything rather than a message. The threat of his own demise became the actuality of everybody else's.
Until now.
He let out a shrill cry just as Jason broke the hold, and then disappeared into the blackness.
"No, no! Come here! Jason... where did you go!? You motherfucker, it... I can't let it... no... no!" Panic filled every spot in Brook's soul that wasn't already stuffed with hatred, and from there it began to consume everything. He screamed more, maybe at Jason or maybe at himself, but the words became slurred until they held no meaning, even to him. There was a new wetness around his eyes, impossible to distinquish as tears mixed with blood.
He turned, grasping for a tree, or another person, or anything that might prove he was still alive and where he had been seconds before. But he knew where he was, even without seeing it. A nightmare of his own creation pulled him down, draining him of his strength and his ability to cling to the will that still wished to live. Fear beat it all, and dragged Brook to his knees.
Then he turned, and his back was met with cool grass.
No... oh god, please, no...
Not after everything I...
I... what did I do..?
To come to terms with the monster you are had never been easy, but it was just as painful and brutal a truth as the blood that stung his eyes and robbed him of his vision. Brook had blinded himself in his rage, but he saw things better than he had for the past seven days or more... he saw himself for what he had become, and the garden...
Fear's icy fist clenched his heart.
"J.. Jason... please..."
Yeah, that... that whatever-it-was that just clocked him in the head hurt pretty damn good, and his gut felt like it was going to weaken at the seams and spill open like a paper bag full of chilli, but the agony that Brook felt himself becoming immersed in hurt from his head down to his toes, inside and outside. His desire to see Jason dead in front of him, contorted into some humorously ironic position and killed in a disgraceful manner ran so deep that it hurt, as did the memory of why he was doing all of this in the first place.
That, or the fact he was beginning to lose that memory in the first place.
Tiffany... he killed her.
Yes, it was that simple. Jason had killed Tiffany, but any other detail of that day escaped Brook's mind the moment he tried to focus on it. If anything positive had happened, the negative had shoved it aside. The love held for Tiffany... the love he held for Jason as the man he always wanted beside him in school, maybe college, maybe even as his best man... both washed away with hate and some pathetic imitation... a pathetic mockery of 'dedication'. Everything had been lost in blood.
But if that was the way it was going to be, it wasn't going to stop until Jason finally lay at Brook's feet, his throat crushed by a single stomp from his boot. This wasn't for Tiffany anymore, but for himself. This was his fault.
His fault. His fault. Why won't my body move? It's just blood, it's just pain, it's just...
Impossible.
"So, uh..."
"Dude, eyes on the road."
"Right, right. I'm just wondering if... you know, she'll like the flowers!"
"She? I thought you said you were getting this for the store."
"... That's what I meant. The owner of the store. Not the nursery, but the boutique at the mall. I'm just wondering if she'll like the heather more than the stuff I usually bring her."
"She better, I think I broke my arm just getting it!"
"..."
"Right. 'Ey, mate, there's no blood... see? So don't worry about it. Just... eyes on the road, we'll get this taken care of."
"S-sure, sure. I was just checking, y'know? This... uh, it's my boss's car. Can't have... uh... blood... all over it."
"Ha, I guess not..."
"... Hey, Jason?"
"Yeah, mate?"
"Thanks for coming."
"Yeah. Lot of help I was, right?"
"No, really. Thank you for coming. It... um... showed me you really cared about all of this."
"You're my friend, Brook. What are buds for?"
Brook stumbled towards Jason, arms outstretched. Nothing would be more personal than this moment. Even without weapons, all it took was a pair of hands to squeeze that throat, juuuust above the collar. The only distactions were the world of pain that inhabited his body, and a large amount of wetness on his forehead.
He told himself it was sweat time and time again as he continued to attempt his assault. Jason's arms had come up, letting go of whatever he had in his hand. Whatever it was, it was the thing that had been raked across Brook's forehead. None of that mattered right now anyhow. Just Jason's throat, a pipeline of life that two thumbs pressing against could disconnect ever so easily, provided they could get by the defending arms... that was all that mattered.
The rest of the world closed off from Brook, and it became just him and Jason. His muscles worked with every fiber of their being to accomplish a goal that, while it surrounded them both in body, it had all but been lost to Brook's mind, washed away in crimson tides just like everything else. This cause may have been a hollow one, but there was nothing else he could do. His eyes remained locked on Jason's, even when the smaller boy's attempts to keep the hands from his throat started to prevail.
No... wait, come on...
His glare of victory became one of gaze and shock, unable to interpret what Jason's eyes were saying anymore. That had become lost to Brook, and that scared him more than anything. It frightened him just a little bit more than...
The blood washed down from the gash that he pretended wasn't in his forehead, and the image of Jason Harris turned red... then black.
This...
This... is my...
He could ignore it no longer. Blood meant pain, and injury and death. This game was all death, and despair, and misery leading up to the aforementioned death. Brook had plenty of time to cry about it earlier... he remembered all of that from his first waking moments in this hellhole. And then, almost seconds later in his memory, the first hard evidence of life's fragility fell in front of his very eyes. He couldn't even catch her before she hit the mud.
That was what blood meant... one day your time would be up, and your life would be over. The only way to overcome such an omen was to embrace it. And so Brook washed himself in blood. So much blood... he had lost track of what was who's, who's was where, and made excuses for it existing. He kept it with him to the degree where its meaning became archaic, a disgusting plaything rather than a message. The threat of his own demise became the actuality of everybody else's.
Until now.
He let out a shrill cry just as Jason broke the hold, and then disappeared into the blackness.
"No, no! Come here! Jason... where did you go!? You motherfucker, it... I can't let it... no... no!" Panic filled every spot in Brook's soul that wasn't already stuffed with hatred, and from there it began to consume everything. He screamed more, maybe at Jason or maybe at himself, but the words became slurred until they held no meaning, even to him. There was a new wetness around his eyes, impossible to distinquish as tears mixed with blood.
He turned, grasping for a tree, or another person, or anything that might prove he was still alive and where he had been seconds before. But he knew where he was, even without seeing it. A nightmare of his own creation pulled him down, draining him of his strength and his ability to cling to the will that still wished to live. Fear beat it all, and dragged Brook to his knees.
Then he turned, and his back was met with cool grass.
No... oh god, please, no...
Not after everything I...
I... what did I do..?
To come to terms with the monster you are had never been easy, but it was just as painful and brutal a truth as the blood that stung his eyes and robbed him of his vision. Brook had blinded himself in his rage, but he saw things better than he had for the past seven days or more... he saw himself for what he had become, and the garden...
Fear's icy fist clenched his heart.
"J.. Jason... please..."
Jason could only watch Brook fall to the ground as he slowly willed his arms to push him off the ground. Every inch of his body strained against him as the adrenaline flooded away, leaving him with only the intense aching. He teetered for a second blinking his eyes as Brook spoke up. He shook his head slowly as he carefully took one step forward towards his fallen friend.
"Brook..." he said, "I... you know I don't have a choice."
Jason tried for another step, but this time his legs stiffened and didn't comply with his mind. He was tired, so tired. Brook lay before him, bleeding. There was so much blood.
"...H-heh... y-you're going to kill me, huh?" Brook's voice was ragged, the silence deafening as he struggled to keep speaking. "... I can't forgive you for what you did. I can't forgive myself even more... G-God, Jason..."
A dull ache flushed across Jason's body, not a physical sensation but a tearing of his heart. Like some door had closed and could never be opened again. His mouth quivered slightly, smiling sadly. He felt tears begin to well up behind his eyes. "Hey Brook," Jason started, "remember that time we found that stray dog? It kept digging up your flowers? We'd grab it every time and tell it to go home but it just kept coming back."
"...F-Fuckign thing..." Brook laughed his chest moving rhythmically. It was kind laugh, not one coming from the monster Brook had become, but a sliver of a memory from a happier time. "That stupid d-dog..." Brook tried to laugh again but devolved in to a fit of coughing, hacking up more blood. ."...I've been acting like an idiot for so long. Y-you don't even know... you had to be there. Their screams... R-Raine, Ridley... the... they were first... and then Colin... and Vi- Oh god... what the fuck did I even do to Vivien!?" Brooks voice cracked as he broke in to tears, the shiny translucent drops mingling with the viscous red fluid that spilled from his mouth. He sucked another breath in and continued while Jason willed himself to move forward.
Another step. This has to end. Take another step.
"A-And Dutchy, wh-who cried... a-at the drop of a hat at everything, and when I..." Brook burst in to body wracking sobs, his chest heaving sending more gouts of blood spilling from his fallen form. "Nathan... tell me he'll be okay Jason. Tell me..."
Jason looked over to Nathan wearily. His friend wasn't moving, slumped to one side, the pistol fallen from his grip, the barrel cool. His chest shuddered for a second as he forced back his tears. "He's not Brook. He's not going to be ok. None of us are going to be okay!" His voiced was raised. "You're right, I don't understand Brook. This," Jason waved his hand across the mess of a clearing that surrounded him. "This shouldn't exist, this shouldn't of happened." He couldn't push back his anguish much longer. "You shot Nathan Brook. He was you friend." Jason's face contorted as his voice cracked. "He came to bring you back. We were going to bring you back." A sharp intake of breath forced itself through Jason's body and his legs wobbled. "We were supposed to all go back."
A little further
Another step.
Brook shook his head helplessly, a slight movement. His eyes closed, blood and dirt congealing around them. "I... they wouldn't take me... you should've gone without me. Left me. Even if you... even if you did what you did, it wasn't too late for you. I can't forgive you..." Brook paused again, his voice growing softer, hoarser. Each word a strain on his body. "But if I could..."
Jason clenched his fist. "Could what Brook? Take it all back? Bring back Raine? Bring back Dutchy? Bring back Nathan?!" Jason was yelling now his voice bouncing around the trees juxtaposed by the ominous silence that permeated the area. "That's not how this works; it's not how life works!" His anger pushed him forward. "This Brook. This is your legacy now. Tell me what to do Brook."
Jason fell to his knees next to the prone form of his friend, his legs finally giving out. Brooks face turned to the sound, his eyes shut tight, sealed in dirt and grime. "... That wasn't..." Brook choked bback a sob and cleared his throat, "A part of me hates you... a part of you probably hates me... but... c-call me 'friend'? M-Maybe... just once?"
Tears ran down Jason's face. This was it, he had to do it now, and make sure Brook was dead. He had to kill his best friend. He grabbed a nearby rock, clutched roughly in his hand. "No matter what you did Brook. No matter what you've become you've always been and always will be my friend."
Brook sighed, as if a great weight had been lifted from his body. His mouth spluttered open once more. "Jason... there's... something I want you to do."
Jason paused carefully. This sounded like his old friend. The kid he used to go on adventures with, the shy, love-struck Brook. He let the rock roll from his hands. "What is it?"
Brook's arm moved, grasping at Jason's hand, clutching it tight in his grasp. "Burn it..." Brook coughed again, spittle dribbling from his mouth, "This garden... when I'm gone, when... he's... just burn it all. I made it thinking it would be... I don't know... beautiful or something, but it's not. It's ugly and it's a disgrace to her... to everybody. Just destroy it..."
Jason looked across the clearing, at the rivulets of blood, the bodies strewn across the area, the dirt, the sheer stench that flooded his nostrils. "Yeah Brook, I can do that.
"...One more... thing?" Jason listened. Almost a minute had passed before Brook spoke again. His friend didn't seem to notice. "Can you... stay with me for a bit? I know I don't deserve it... I was just wondering..." His voice was faint now, not even a whisper.
Jason wiped a tear from his eyes as he looked over to Nathan lying unmoving and then back to Brook, his chest moving ever so slowly now, each breath shorter than the last. He squeezed his friend's hand.
"Yeah, Liam." Jason smiled sadly tears running freely now, "I can stay awhile."
"Brook..." he said, "I... you know I don't have a choice."
Jason tried for another step, but this time his legs stiffened and didn't comply with his mind. He was tired, so tired. Brook lay before him, bleeding. There was so much blood.
"...H-heh... y-you're going to kill me, huh?" Brook's voice was ragged, the silence deafening as he struggled to keep speaking. "... I can't forgive you for what you did. I can't forgive myself even more... G-God, Jason..."
A dull ache flushed across Jason's body, not a physical sensation but a tearing of his heart. Like some door had closed and could never be opened again. His mouth quivered slightly, smiling sadly. He felt tears begin to well up behind his eyes. "Hey Brook," Jason started, "remember that time we found that stray dog? It kept digging up your flowers? We'd grab it every time and tell it to go home but it just kept coming back."
"...F-Fuckign thing..." Brook laughed his chest moving rhythmically. It was kind laugh, not one coming from the monster Brook had become, but a sliver of a memory from a happier time. "That stupid d-dog..." Brook tried to laugh again but devolved in to a fit of coughing, hacking up more blood. ."...I've been acting like an idiot for so long. Y-you don't even know... you had to be there. Their screams... R-Raine, Ridley... the... they were first... and then Colin... and Vi- Oh god... what the fuck did I even do to Vivien!?" Brooks voice cracked as he broke in to tears, the shiny translucent drops mingling with the viscous red fluid that spilled from his mouth. He sucked another breath in and continued while Jason willed himself to move forward.
Another step. This has to end. Take another step.
"A-And Dutchy, wh-who cried... a-at the drop of a hat at everything, and when I..." Brook burst in to body wracking sobs, his chest heaving sending more gouts of blood spilling from his fallen form. "Nathan... tell me he'll be okay Jason. Tell me..."
Jason looked over to Nathan wearily. His friend wasn't moving, slumped to one side, the pistol fallen from his grip, the barrel cool. His chest shuddered for a second as he forced back his tears. "He's not Brook. He's not going to be ok. None of us are going to be okay!" His voiced was raised. "You're right, I don't understand Brook. This," Jason waved his hand across the mess of a clearing that surrounded him. "This shouldn't exist, this shouldn't of happened." He couldn't push back his anguish much longer. "You shot Nathan Brook. He was you friend." Jason's face contorted as his voice cracked. "He came to bring you back. We were going to bring you back." A sharp intake of breath forced itself through Jason's body and his legs wobbled. "We were supposed to all go back."
A little further
Another step.
Brook shook his head helplessly, a slight movement. His eyes closed, blood and dirt congealing around them. "I... they wouldn't take me... you should've gone without me. Left me. Even if you... even if you did what you did, it wasn't too late for you. I can't forgive you..." Brook paused again, his voice growing softer, hoarser. Each word a strain on his body. "But if I could..."
Jason clenched his fist. "Could what Brook? Take it all back? Bring back Raine? Bring back Dutchy? Bring back Nathan?!" Jason was yelling now his voice bouncing around the trees juxtaposed by the ominous silence that permeated the area. "That's not how this works; it's not how life works!" His anger pushed him forward. "This Brook. This is your legacy now. Tell me what to do Brook."
Jason fell to his knees next to the prone form of his friend, his legs finally giving out. Brooks face turned to the sound, his eyes shut tight, sealed in dirt and grime. "... That wasn't..." Brook choked bback a sob and cleared his throat, "A part of me hates you... a part of you probably hates me... but... c-call me 'friend'? M-Maybe... just once?"
Tears ran down Jason's face. This was it, he had to do it now, and make sure Brook was dead. He had to kill his best friend. He grabbed a nearby rock, clutched roughly in his hand. "No matter what you did Brook. No matter what you've become you've always been and always will be my friend."
Brook sighed, as if a great weight had been lifted from his body. His mouth spluttered open once more. "Jason... there's... something I want you to do."
Jason paused carefully. This sounded like his old friend. The kid he used to go on adventures with, the shy, love-struck Brook. He let the rock roll from his hands. "What is it?"
Brook's arm moved, grasping at Jason's hand, clutching it tight in his grasp. "Burn it..." Brook coughed again, spittle dribbling from his mouth, "This garden... when I'm gone, when... he's... just burn it all. I made it thinking it would be... I don't know... beautiful or something, but it's not. It's ugly and it's a disgrace to her... to everybody. Just destroy it..."
Jason looked across the clearing, at the rivulets of blood, the bodies strewn across the area, the dirt, the sheer stench that flooded his nostrils. "Yeah Brook, I can do that.
"...One more... thing?" Jason listened. Almost a minute had passed before Brook spoke again. His friend didn't seem to notice. "Can you... stay with me for a bit? I know I don't deserve it... I was just wondering..." His voice was faint now, not even a whisper.
Jason wiped a tear from his eyes as he looked over to Nathan lying unmoving and then back to Brook, his chest moving ever so slowly now, each breath shorter than the last. He squeezed his friend's hand.
"Yeah, Liam." Jason smiled sadly tears running freely now, "I can stay awhile."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fanatic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Thank you.
Brook could be content enough with that as his only concession. He laid there, his eyes seeing nothing but his mind finally able to see everything, and resigned himself to the guilt that would likely follow him to death. Everybody here had suffered more terrifying deaths than he had... they had all died kicking and screaming, often alone and without a friend in the world to comfort them. Would they find it in themselves to forgive him if they met again?
I won't blame you all if you don't. I won't forgive myself. Everybody at home... I wonder if they even want my body to bury it...
Probably not. Mom is disgusted with me... who can blame her?
The terribile pain came back in waves, but while Brook was blind and Jason was quiet, he knew his friend was there for him in his final, disgraced moments. Cameras... annoying, prying cameras catching his last breaths. It was like falling asleep with somebody taping him. Yeah... falling asleep with a terrible gutache. And that gutache is because somebody totally shot the shit out of you.
He made the only apologies he could in his mind, unable to voice them as he drifted off to the slumber he'd never wake from. But... maybe that was okay. The people he was making them for wouldn't need words to hear them.
... and I really don't know what came over me. That's about the last of it. Maybe if Hell has a sort of... sort of sentence limit, and I get out someday, I'll come up there and ask you for your forgiveness in person. I don't know. I have no idea how the afterlife works.
... Will, soon.
He felt sleepy. The loss of blood was likely to blame, as well as why he felt a bit cold. It had been a few minutes. Jason was still there... they were still in the garden, but Brook didn't have to be afraid anymore. The blood no longer meant anything too meaningful. Brook thought just a few more things, true conscious thoughts, before unconciousness swept him away. His heart would stop soon after.
Jason... my greatest enemy.
My first and best friend.
G'night for now.
... Mate.
B025, Liam "Brook" Brooks - Deceased
Brook could be content enough with that as his only concession. He laid there, his eyes seeing nothing but his mind finally able to see everything, and resigned himself to the guilt that would likely follow him to death. Everybody here had suffered more terrifying deaths than he had... they had all died kicking and screaming, often alone and without a friend in the world to comfort them. Would they find it in themselves to forgive him if they met again?
I won't blame you all if you don't. I won't forgive myself. Everybody at home... I wonder if they even want my body to bury it...
Probably not. Mom is disgusted with me... who can blame her?
The terribile pain came back in waves, but while Brook was blind and Jason was quiet, he knew his friend was there for him in his final, disgraced moments. Cameras... annoying, prying cameras catching his last breaths. It was like falling asleep with somebody taping him. Yeah... falling asleep with a terrible gutache. And that gutache is because somebody totally shot the shit out of you.
He made the only apologies he could in his mind, unable to voice them as he drifted off to the slumber he'd never wake from. But... maybe that was okay. The people he was making them for wouldn't need words to hear them.
... and I really don't know what came over me. That's about the last of it. Maybe if Hell has a sort of... sort of sentence limit, and I get out someday, I'll come up there and ask you for your forgiveness in person. I don't know. I have no idea how the afterlife works.
... Will, soon.
He felt sleepy. The loss of blood was likely to blame, as well as why he felt a bit cold. It had been a few minutes. Jason was still there... they were still in the garden, but Brook didn't have to be afraid anymore. The blood no longer meant anything too meaningful. Brook thought just a few more things, true conscious thoughts, before unconciousness swept him away. His heart would stop soon after.
Jason... my greatest enemy.
My first and best friend.
G'night for now.
... Mate.
B025, Liam "Brook" Brooks - Deceased
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GregTheAnti-Viking†
- Posts: 267
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:10 am
Reach. All Nathan wanted to do was reach. Fingers tapped the handle, taunting his efforts to defend Jason.
I've fucking failed all my life. I'm not going to fail now.
Nathan pushed himself an inch forwards. The sounds of the scuffle behind him an ever present hiss in his ears.
Not now...
He clutched the handle and brought it closer to his face. He blinked and then, in spite of himself, he laughed. It was a mear chuckle and it only lasted for a few short seconds before he coughed up a fresh spray of blood, but Nathan couldn't help but laugh. He lay there for a few seconds, sucking in as much air as he possibly could.
Now he just needed to turn around and fire.
In his head, Nathan thought that the act would be simple to do, even in spite of his current situation. Yet the simple act of turning ones body around when you were loosing feeling in your legs was an unexpected complication. He had to use his arms to spin himself around, like a hand on a clock. Every move came with a low grunt of pain and a loud weeze.
Can't fail. Not now.
Seconds seemed like minutes as they passed by. He strained his head upwards to look, but could really only see the legs of Brook and Jason. This seemed to set a fresh fire from within him and with a renewed haste, Nathan kept shifting.
One more push. That's all I need.
His legs had gone completely numb now, it seemed like death was prone to a sense of humour. All that time wasted on trying to meet expectations. And now, they were useless. He grimaced, feeling the sticky blood pooling up against his teeth. Hillarious.
Nathan lifted his head and saw now that Jason was loosing this battle. He had to do something. He had to do it now!
His arms stretched outwards, fingers tightly gripping the handle of his weapon. They were heavy now taking all the effort he could to bring the pistol up to the melee. His hands were shaking. Were they shaking because dying. Or were they shaking because he was about to shoot? He was telling his body to stop. But it seemed like it had ceased to listen to his silent orders.
"Shoot him Nath! Shoot him!"
Nathan's hand pulled on the trigger.
The gun had fallen out of his hands from the sheer force of it firing and it fell to the grassy floor like it had been dropped fifty stories. Nathan found himself staring down at the grass grasping for air. His vision had become hazy, but he had to know. He gently strained his head up to where he had fired the gun. His eyes narrowed at this point there were mere shadows floating off in the distance. There was one still standing, and one that had fallen on the ground.
He blinked...
and then he heard a voice...
It was Jason's.
That meant...
Nathan's head crashed down to the forest floor. For once, breathing was easy for him. Funny that dying was able to give you such peace. So he shot Brook after all. Jason was safe.
Nathan coughed up a fresh splash of blood and grimaced.
Well look at that Mom, Dad. You're son was actually good for something after all. Guess I get the last laugh now don't I? Geoffrey...
Nathan closed his eyes.
You take care of yourself...
B057 Nathan Choultard - Deceased
I've fucking failed all my life. I'm not going to fail now.
Nathan pushed himself an inch forwards. The sounds of the scuffle behind him an ever present hiss in his ears.
Not now...
He clutched the handle and brought it closer to his face. He blinked and then, in spite of himself, he laughed. It was a mear chuckle and it only lasted for a few short seconds before he coughed up a fresh spray of blood, but Nathan couldn't help but laugh. He lay there for a few seconds, sucking in as much air as he possibly could.
Now he just needed to turn around and fire.
In his head, Nathan thought that the act would be simple to do, even in spite of his current situation. Yet the simple act of turning ones body around when you were loosing feeling in your legs was an unexpected complication. He had to use his arms to spin himself around, like a hand on a clock. Every move came with a low grunt of pain and a loud weeze.
Can't fail. Not now.
Seconds seemed like minutes as they passed by. He strained his head upwards to look, but could really only see the legs of Brook and Jason. This seemed to set a fresh fire from within him and with a renewed haste, Nathan kept shifting.
One more push. That's all I need.
His legs had gone completely numb now, it seemed like death was prone to a sense of humour. All that time wasted on trying to meet expectations. And now, they were useless. He grimaced, feeling the sticky blood pooling up against his teeth. Hillarious.
Nathan lifted his head and saw now that Jason was loosing this battle. He had to do something. He had to do it now!
His arms stretched outwards, fingers tightly gripping the handle of his weapon. They were heavy now taking all the effort he could to bring the pistol up to the melee. His hands were shaking. Were they shaking because dying. Or were they shaking because he was about to shoot? He was telling his body to stop. But it seemed like it had ceased to listen to his silent orders.
"Shoot him Nath! Shoot him!"
Nathan's hand pulled on the trigger.
The gun had fallen out of his hands from the sheer force of it firing and it fell to the grassy floor like it had been dropped fifty stories. Nathan found himself staring down at the grass grasping for air. His vision had become hazy, but he had to know. He gently strained his head up to where he had fired the gun. His eyes narrowed at this point there were mere shadows floating off in the distance. There was one still standing, and one that had fallen on the ground.
He blinked...
and then he heard a voice...
It was Jason's.
That meant...
Nathan's head crashed down to the forest floor. For once, breathing was easy for him. Funny that dying was able to give you such peace. So he shot Brook after all. Jason was safe.
Nathan coughed up a fresh splash of blood and grimaced.
Well look at that Mom, Dad. You're son was actually good for something after all. Guess I get the last laugh now don't I? Geoffrey...
Nathan closed his eyes.
You take care of yourself...
B057 Nathan Choultard - Deceased
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler GregTheAnti-Viking. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Jason watched, numb, as his two best friends let their last breaths pass their lips. Everything seemed so surreal now and he moved on automatic. It didn't take too long for him to gather the required materials to make a fire, his outdoor education classes finally coming in to use for once. The hard part was systematically trying to start it. He robotically spun the stick until a thin wisp of smoke began emanating from the dried leaves. It took another few hours to fan the flames enough that they would burn on their own, leaping up across the dry wood of the coastal trees.
He watched the flames flicker about the bodies of his friends and begin to consume them dispassionately.
He left when the smell of burning flesh hit his nostrils. Nothing mattered now. There was nothing left.
((Jason Harris continued in "This is How the World Ends"))
He watched the flames flicker about the bodies of his friends and begin to consume them dispassionately.
He left when the smell of burning flesh hit his nostrils. Nothing mattered now. There was nothing left.
((Jason Harris continued in "This is How the World Ends"))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Fanatic. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.