Broken Hearts of Gold

[D/N]

(Deanna Hull continued from Paper Conquest)

She'd tried to steal Ruby Forrester's gun earlier that day.

Back in the morning, she'd looked at Ruby's bag and figured she could switch out Ruby's gun for the tire iron and the other girl would be none wiser. Another of Deanna Hull's terrible ideas gone nowhere.

So now as she peeked into the lobby of the least crumbling apartment building in this cluster, she had her pick of Veronica McDonald's iron and Freddy Krueger's fake glove. Might be good enough. She could learn to use it like a cop with a nightstick, giving little twirls to show people she meant business.

Dee took a look back at the courtyard before steeping through the front door. It was... Dee still didn't really know. Early afternoon, she guessed? She and Ruby had an unspoken sort of deal where they'd gotten comfortable enough to travel together from place to place, then split up for a bit. Kind of funny she'd become so fucking blase about splitting apart after the last group she'd been with but honestly? Dee liked Ruby fine, but there would never be the same connection.

She didn't want that connection with anyone. Ever again. Back to the old-school, low-key Deanna that wandered blankly out into the ocean to poke a dead guy. That Dee didn't cry and make stupid emotional decisions.

That Dee made stupid unemotional decisions that needed to be made nonetheless. Like now.

She kicked aside another few shards of broken glass and walked through the lobby, trying doors at random. Most were locked, including what Dee assumed was the stairwell, but there was a hallway leading to what looked to be the first-floor apartments that was open, if not quite inviting.

She held the tire iron in her hands, gave a sad smile, and wandered down it.

[ViolentMedic]

((Joe Carrasco continued from Remission.))

Had he been here?

Joe clung to the scythe and stared at the front of the apartment complex. The scythe was oddly comforting. Maybe because he'd never made a mistake with it. Or with the box cutter that was lying on the floor of the shopping center. You had to be sure when killing with a melee weapon. Not like guns. Guns were too easy.

He wasn't even sure if he could kill with this. The scythe was big. It seemed like it would be clumsy in a fight. He'd managed to kill Ben while he had it. Though... lucky disarm.

He should drop it. But what if Travis appeared?

Only Travis. No-one else. He repeated that in his head so he wouldn't forget, even for a second. He periodically reached up and gripped the necklace he'd duct-taped around his neck to remind himself.

No more Jasons. No more Kyrans. Only Travis.

Maybe he was in here.

Joe nudged open the doors and shuffled inside. Started wandering about.

And eventually he found someone. It wasn't Travis. Joe lowered the scythe immediately so whoever it was would know he didn't intend any harm. He didn't say anything. He tried, but his mouth felt very sandpapery.

[D/N]

Apropos of nothing, Dee guessed this was probably the superintendent's apartment. There was no plaque on the door, but she guessed it anyways. Dee had experience with buildings like this, three or four that she could remember. They were all similar enough; at least in Tacoma they were. And this would've fit right in with what Melody Hull could've afforded during the first dozen years of Deanna's life.

She idly traced in the dust atop a cheap desk, took another look around, and petulantly cursed the asshole who used to live her under her breath. This was a pretty crappy building and it probably had a crappy super. Again, she had experience. She could tell.

She couldn't tell who those footsteps in the lobby might belong to, though.

So when Joe Carrasco peeked in the doorway and she saw him, her mouth flapped open and Dee knew she looked like a fish.

"You..."

Joe Carrasco. He was a stoner; she knew that. She'd seen him out back in that spot just off Aurora property, where she'd frequented a couple times herself. Dee was just a passive sometimes-stoner though. Joe was more the loner stoner, who might be a jerk but might be cool if she'd gotten to know him. She never had.

He was a killer, too. Not just Kyran. Joe had been on the announcements more than once, even if she couldn't recall any of his other kills.

And now as if she'd actually prayed and asked for it, here he was.

So she flapped her mouth again and then she started to cry.

Hahahaha.

Joke's on you, Kyran and Cammy Davidson and and all the rest who might've thought otherwise. Thought she was really up to things.

But Joe took a step back, as if to leave. And Dee found she could turn off the faucet.

"Don't... you asshole, wait."

Then again.

Her grip tightened on the tire iron and she lifted her head. She managed to close her mouth.

Maybe.

"Kyran," she said.

[ViolentMedic]

Joe hadn't expected crying, for some reason. His first instinct had been to try and leave, because whoever this girl was... clearly they weren't okay with seeing him. But then she said no. So he stood still.

She knew Kyran. Or at least his name.

Joe looked down at the tire iron she was gripping, then back to her face.

"...Yeah," he said quietly.

He knelt down and placed the scythe on the ground. He nudged it towards her with his foot. He also put his bag down. While he didn't push it towards her, he nudged it to the side so he couldn't reach it if he panicked. Then he put his hands on his head.

"Yeah. That was me."

He offered no explanation or apology because he didn't feel that it would help.

[D/N]

"Yeah. Yeah? You stupid fuck. You..."

Dee's hands were shaking and she could tell, but she was still able to keep her grip And Joe Carrasco, oh fuck her sideways the fucking martyr, was giving some crucifixion pose and dropping his bag and his sickle or whatever.

Dee didn't step forward. She stepped sideways instead; she took a few halting steps and invited Joe to walk into the heart of the apartment. Welcome to my parlor, said the pissed-off fly to the spider.

"He was the best person on this island and you fucking killed him. He saved my life and I hated him for it and Kyran didn't, he knew that I hated him for a while for that and he didn't even hold that against me or anything. You see? And you killed him and yeah you owe me a fucking explanation I don't care how good or bad it is."

She tried to look him in the eye, succeeded briefly, and dropped her own eyes to his chest where she found Kyran's necklace hanging there. And she swallowed hard.

Keep it together Dee. For now.

[ViolentMedic]

Joe left his things where they were and walked into the apartment.

What explanation did he have to give? Only the truth, and the truth was a pile of shit. He saw her glance at the necklace. He wondered briefly if she'd given it to him in the first place, but maybe he just knew he'd been wearing it. He reached behind his neck and started undoing the duct tape to remove it. A reminder was important, but...

"...I thought he was someone else. And when I tried asking for his name, he got evasive and... and I just... I don't know."

He couldn't look at her any more. He looked at the floor instead as he finished removing the necklace, clasping it in his hand.

"It was stupid. ...He d-didn't deserve it."

His voice was flat for most of the explanation, though it shook a little at the end.

[D/N]

"No," Dee said.

It was completely pointless. The dumbest reason possible. She felt death inside again and didn't want to hear more.

Joe started fiddling with the heart necklace, and Dee looked away. The apartment's blinds were drawn, so there wasn't much to look at, really. Asshole super wouldn't be the type to keep his blinds open where he'd occasionally have to look at people.

"We had this idea," she said, still looking at the blinds. "It wasn't even a plan; we might've called it that. They wanted to get groups together and take out the killers."

She looked back. Joe glanced at her once, then his eyes dropped and he went back to the chain.

Dee tightened what pathetic grip she had on the tire iron.

Joe Carrasco wasn't expecting it. Deanna Hull? Don't make him laugh. Other students, the asshole terrorists, everyone back home, they all knew full well what the Deanna Hulls of SOTF were and weren't capable of. They all knew, and she'd done nothing but prove them right for over eight goddamn days and she could prove them wrong.

Dee saw herself stepping forward, spinning and swinging the tire iron up life a golf club into Joe's face. She could deal with the cracking and the blood and the sounds Joe would make when it hit.

"We, but..."

He deserved it. Dee dropped the tire iron and screamed.

It was hoarse and raspy and not even that loud, but it was the first honest scream she'd had since Dave Russell's body and for a moment at least, it killed that death inside her. She stopped, and let the scream settle a few seconds.

"Kyran would've never actually done it, though," she finally said.

"Me neither. I was just going along.

"I don't know if Kyran knew. I think he did. I knew, that I couldn't. Wouldn't, the whole time. I don't fucking know much. I... I know this."

[ViolentMedic]

So he wasn't the only one who'd at least considered killing the killers. But neither of them had. Neither of them would have. Joe wondered if that would hold up, the closer things got to the end. But it was still better than most of the island.

He was startled when the girl suddenly screamed, stepping back abruptly as she did, but he wasn't scared. For either of them. Making noise just because she had to. Joe knew that was what the screaming was. Hadn't he done the same thing a few hours ago, after the announcements told him what he'd done? What Marcus had done?

Joe looked down at the necklace, brushing his thumb over the heart. "It takes a lot... to be able to come this far... and get this close... and say 'I wouldn't kill.'" He held out the necklace to her. "This seemed... important... to him. I'm sure he wouldn't want me walking around with it."

He couldn't help but remember. He supposed he didn't need to wear a reminder, even if he thought it might help if he panicked.

"...I'm sorry for... for doing it. For screwing up so bad. But I know apologies don't... don't mean anything..."

If Travis apologised to him for killing Aileen... he would probably just shoot him on the spot. Of course, Travis would never apologize.

[Rattlesnake]

((Katarina Konipaski continued from She Spies Sharp Steel by the Seashore))

A little bit of sand ground out against the floor, but the tattered, days-old bandages still muffled each cautious footfall.

Back to the scene of the crime.

The place seemed cursed, though if you thought a little more, it was only for the comfort and the sense of security that drew people there. And where people gathered... Well, the air was thick and stale and fetid, and not for strands of sun-bleached shriveled kelp.

The scream hit her in the gut, and her hair stood up, and then she pressed instinctively forward. There was pain behind it. Psychological, emotional, whatever. The drama of terrified lives tearing themselves asunder.

The game had gone on long enough. Each time she thought of it, her heart hammered and magma flooded through her veins. It was over. People had fought and died and cried and forsaken everything they believed in. Point taken. Now let it all finish. Please, just finish it all as quickly as possible. And she was praying to herself, because who else had the power and the nerve to draw it all the more swiftly to the close? Another two days, maybe, and she'd have a decent sleep and someone to fix the throb and ache of her smashed nose.

Pain.

Rosemary's razor-keen knife snapped shut with a definitive little click. Her fingers danced their little pattern around it. Score each palm in turn with the corner, make them even. She drew her other weapon. Not the quick, slender sword that could cut a beam of sunlight. The dagger, notched with jagged crenelations like Hell's butterknife.

With her ear to the wall by the doorframe, she waited.

[D/N]

Dee hesitated at first, then took the necklace.

She didn't really want to. What was she gonna do; on the off chance she got out of here would she stop by Kyran's house and drop it off? 'Hey Kyran's mom, here's something you gave your son before he died and now I'm just gonna give it back and leave because this is really awkward and I'm terrible.'

Then again, better than nothing. It was good to give something back, if there was anything to give.

She stepped away, playing the necklace's chain between her fingers. Another glance up at Joe, the realization that this was it, and she bent down and picked up the tire iron. She slung her bag around her shoulder, turned to leave, took in the rest of the apartment, then asked one more question.

"Where did it happen?"

Joe told her, and when he got to the burial part Dee wanted to turn around and slap him right in the face. You buried him, Joe Carrasco? Fuck you. Fuck you everywhere. You ever think that maybe Kyran didn't want to be buried? You ever think what a stupid, witless excuse for a redemption symbol that garbage was?

Nobody had better bury Dee on this shithole. Maybe she'd be wise to write a note and pin it to her chest or something. Say that if anyone had the self-righteous idea to 'give her a proper farewell' or whatever she'd come back and haunt their ass.

But she managed to hold her tongue while she remembered what Joe said.

It takes a lot... to be able to come this far... and get this close... and say 'I wouldn't kill.'

"It didn't take a lot. Not really," Dee said.

It felt better than a slap. She hoped it cut Joe deep. And that he didn't get too pissed off, because he was still getting off easy.

She took the tire iron in her hand, stuck Kyran's necklace in her pocket opposite the last clove cig, and went out into the hallway.

[Rattlesnake]

The enormity. The audacity. And that little slice of ever-present danger. Even after half a dozen times and more, it made her hands sweat and tremble. And the irony of it flashed through her mind, if she were to slip and fail because of hands that shook even after half a dozen times and more. Condemning herself with the fear that was groundless, but only if she was not afraid to begin with.

But thinking always gave way to doing. It was a comforting notion before, that maybe she'd damn herself through her own revulsion. Now the thought just made her even sicker.

'It didn't take a lot. Not really.'

How fitting, she thought, when trepidation gave way so easily to action. And there was a tone of finality. Icicle-pointed words, though she didn't know the context that would make them sting so much. But then the footsteps, and the sound that was real or imagined of a body displacing air, sliding ever closer.

She took half a second to consider who she was planning to murder. The earrings and the Skrillex hair and the cute trendy outfit and a name thrown in on top of it. Katarina closed the distance in two strides, overtaking Dee and facing her and jabbing the dagger forward in underhand grip.

It dragged a little as it sunk into the girl's gut. The scooped side of the blade didn't part flesh so easily. And still in the moment, still riding the heady rush of blood and time that hammered complex thought down to pure fighting instinct, she drew it out just as swiftly. A little blood rode the scoops. A little viscera. She drove forward, striking again. Higher this time, pressing with her full weight. The point scratched and skittered over something. Bone, probably. But she didn't need to cut so deeply now. Diving forward, almost tripping, she brought her free hand to bear, slamming Dee into the wall beside the doorframe with an echoing crash.

[D/N]

Dee came out of the apartment and turned left. She didn't want to think about Joe anymore. She thought about Kyran and Ruby and about what she would do next. She scratched her ear and looked at her shoes for a second, then heard running footsteps from behind and started to spin around.

Katarina Konipaski was taking a swing at her.

"Jesus-" she started.

No time.

She took KK's fist in her side, had the wind knocked out of her, and dropped the tire iron.

"Ahfuck!"

Katarina pulled back and came at her again as Deanna pirouetted, dancing with the other girl in the hallway as she touched her side and her hand came away red. This time KK went higher; Dee tried to shift her torso and grab for KK's shoulders at the same time and it worked because KK only managed to get her a bit with her second swing.

Then KK slammed her back against the wall and Dee crumpled to the ground, one hand pressed to her body and the other groping instinctively for her weapon. Her breaths came short, through her mouth like bursts on a whistle. Good thing she was so skinny though. Because it hadn't been too bad, she was too thin a target and easy to miss, and KK had just knocked the wind out of her but this was still fucking dangerous, this was still problematic and Dee wished someone else was here to help.

Then KK was turning around herself, back to the doorway.

Speak of the devil.

[ViolentMedic]

Joe's mouth twisted a little in a grimace at the girl's parting remark. She could be right. Maybe he was just bad from the start. But then that would mean most of their class at this stage was bad from the start, wouldn't it?

He zoned out briefly to think about it, and was pulled out of it by a shout.

Person in the hallway. Blood. Squelch. Crash.

Joe froze as a wave of panic crashed over him—help her? You'll mess up—before reaching for the nearest object. It turned out to be a dusty ashtray sitting nearby, left there since whoever lived here last ditched the place. He picked it up and hurled it in the direction of the intruder.

So much for staying out of the island's bloodbaths. Turned out that was a lot easier thought than done.

With no other ideas, other than running and leaving them to fight it out without him—and how could he do that when there was a girl, who he'd already hurt by killing Kyran, bleeding there?—he barrelled through the doorway and tried to back up enough to grab the scythe he'd left there.

He didn't need to kill. He just needed to scare the intruder away.

He just had to not touch the gun in his bag, and everything would be... not fine, but...

[Rattlesnake]

She stumbled a little as Dee slid to the floor, but didn't pitch over. She straightened herself and grabbed up the rapier and swapped it to her dominant hand. Dee hadn't screamed as loudly as she supposed she might, but still it had worked. Fast, loud footsteps. Another lamb to the slaughter. She knew all to well what lengths people would go to for each other. And it was her turn to catch someone off-guard by it.

A little shock of her own as the wiry boy burst through the open door.

He had Steve.

She chuckled a little even now at the stupid little name Rosemary had held her to. What a small freaking world it was, and then they'd blow your head off to make it even smaller. Still, her first thought was to run. It would tear her belly open in one swing. Spill that lovely banana split all over the floor along with a tangle of guts and bile.

But what if I had to fight in close quarters, she'd thought. What if I have to defend myself when there's no room to swing. The answer then had been that she'd giggle until her knees gave out and she grabbed the handle to support herself. Now—well, she'd cashed in her offer. The little knife pressed against her leg as she moved to strike.

The first blow was heavy enough to notch the solid wooden shaft of her old weapon. The rapier dug in just a little, but she drew it easily back and swung again and then tried to jab past it. It was a dangerous game, but she was holding the cards. She just needed to stay back, stay aware, push him to the walls and don't let him wind up a swing. Not that he seemed to keen to even try.

A sudden bitterness blossomed within her. What was the point, she thought. What was the fucking point of living if you weren't going to do something about it? Of coming so far, struggling and crying and watching your friends die, if you couldn't even give them the pitiful comfort of fighting to keep what they'd lost? What if someone like that made it to the end? What if, in their twisted minds, the thing to do then was raise their gun to their temples, and...

Maybe someone else would have tried a cutting remark to open up a space for drawing blood. Katarina gritted her teeth and pressed slowly on.

[D/N]

Dee's hand found the tire iron but she couldn't do anything about it yet. No, not so long as she couldn't catch her breath. She just needed to take a second or two, get her bearings and... shit.

Flashbacks to CPR training. First aid. This wasn't a lung thing was it.

Breathe Dee. Breathe.

She closed her eyes. Managed to calm herself down enough. Her whole torso still hurt and it was starting to burn now but she was breathing and that meant she'd be fine.

Dee's hand tightened around the iron. Slowly, she pressed against the ground and used it and the wall to start pushing herself up. She turned to the doorway, to the back of the girl now facing off with Joe.