It had only been eight days, but it felt like years, since his hands had done this. The way the paper felt gliding against his palm, the smudging and smearing of charcoal on his hands, the smell - earthy - of a new sketchbook. The paper was weighted and wonderful, the pain in his left arm minimal, and though the drawing wasn't great - wasn't even good, really - the principle of it, the making of it, was honest.
That's all Hansel wanted, right now.
Honesty.
((Hansel Williams, The Faster The Treadmill))
He'd been lying to himself - about himself - for as long as he could remember, forcing himself to think and feel along certain lines, context that only applied to specific, exact circumstances and situations. He'd hated homosexuals because Dad hated the faggots, and God did, too. He'd hated the pro-choice debate because Mom had always turned off the radio when it had come on, and God didn't like it, either.
All of those thoughts, all that rationale, didn't leave a lot for honesty. For Hansel.
And all it had taken was Logan Caddagon's glassy eyes, Daniel Whitten's permanent half smirk, and the words "our resident cowboy" to have Hansel see it.
So, he sat, knees bent upwards, sketchbook resting against it, charcoal in his hand. He sat, gray smudged on his cheek, right hand dark with the stuff, FAMAS leaning against his thigh. He sat, amidst the chaos of two dead bodies he'd barely glanced at beyond separating the weapons and dragging them towards his little hideout - an act that had become natural, instinctive. See bodies, take their shit, move along.
He sat amidst so much destruction, death, violence.
He sat.
He created.
Tomorrow is the most important thing in life.
Private - Day 8
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NotAFlyingToy
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ViolentMedic
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((Joe Carrasco continued from Metastasis.))
If Marcus had listened to Joe, he would be nearby. But it wasn't important for Joe to be near him. What was important was that there were no killers near him. What was important was that Joe had somewhere that he could say was safe. Not just for Marcus, he told himself. Anyone who deserved to be safe.
Supplies, a barricade downstairs, the shopping centre would be perfect. If there were no killers there.
But whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been Hansel Williams sitting and drawing near the dead bodies of Cody Patton and a girl that Joe assumed was his sister. She matched the vague description that Marcus had given him.
Maybe Joe should have felt relieved that Hansel had taken them out so he didn't have to. It was hard to look at corpses and feel relieved. Also, the thing was that Hansel was still there. And he was worse than both of them put together.
Joe crouched near the non-functional escalator he'd come up. He'd like to say he was just reflecting on his options, but he was also half-paralyzed by fear. People like Benjamin or even Travis... at least they had less murder to their name. At least they didn't have huge guns sitting next to them. Joe clung to the scythe tightly, rocking slightly on his feet.
This was the closest he'd gotten to wanting a gun. He still didn't really want it, though. Guns were too easy to make mistakes with. But in situations like this...
Joe had wanted to avoid talk. If it was someone who'd killed once? Maybe talk was okay. Maybe they might be another Rosemary. Someone who made a mistake. But there were too many kills to Hansel's name. No possible excuse.
He didn't want to stop for excuses and get another messed-up rant that made little to no sense, like he had with Travis.
But he couldn't charge someone with a gun and expect to come out on top. He was already pushing his luck after Ben.
Joe lowered the scythe, trying not to look like a threat, and called out. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if this didn't work. He couldn't run downstairs. Marcus might be there, and he was not going to lead Hansel to him.
But he'd figure that out when it happened. Worst came to worst... well, he'd die.
"I... I'm not l-looking for a fight." The lie came out sounding better, because the shake in his voice was real. Plus, the scythe still wasn't comfortable in his hands. He looked the very picture of a scared wimp who'd just happened to have picked up something sharp. Hopefully that truth would cover up anything else.
If Marcus had listened to Joe, he would be nearby. But it wasn't important for Joe to be near him. What was important was that there were no killers near him. What was important was that Joe had somewhere that he could say was safe. Not just for Marcus, he told himself. Anyone who deserved to be safe.
Supplies, a barricade downstairs, the shopping centre would be perfect. If there were no killers there.
But whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been Hansel Williams sitting and drawing near the dead bodies of Cody Patton and a girl that Joe assumed was his sister. She matched the vague description that Marcus had given him.
Maybe Joe should have felt relieved that Hansel had taken them out so he didn't have to. It was hard to look at corpses and feel relieved. Also, the thing was that Hansel was still there. And he was worse than both of them put together.
Joe crouched near the non-functional escalator he'd come up. He'd like to say he was just reflecting on his options, but he was also half-paralyzed by fear. People like Benjamin or even Travis... at least they had less murder to their name. At least they didn't have huge guns sitting next to them. Joe clung to the scythe tightly, rocking slightly on his feet.
This was the closest he'd gotten to wanting a gun. He still didn't really want it, though. Guns were too easy to make mistakes with. But in situations like this...
Joe had wanted to avoid talk. If it was someone who'd killed once? Maybe talk was okay. Maybe they might be another Rosemary. Someone who made a mistake. But there were too many kills to Hansel's name. No possible excuse.
He didn't want to stop for excuses and get another messed-up rant that made little to no sense, like he had with Travis.
But he couldn't charge someone with a gun and expect to come out on top. He was already pushing his luck after Ben.
Joe lowered the scythe, trying not to look like a threat, and called out. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if this didn't work. He couldn't run downstairs. Marcus might be there, and he was not going to lead Hansel to him.
But he'd figure that out when it happened. Worst came to worst... well, he'd die.
"I... I'm not l-looking for a fight." The lie came out sounding better, because the shake in his voice was real. Plus, the scythe still wasn't comfortable in his hands. He looked the very picture of a scared wimp who'd just happened to have picked up something sharp. Hopefully that truth would cover up anything else.
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NotAFlyingToy
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The sketch paused as Hansel looked up, hat throwing his face into shadow as he carefully observed the other boy.
Joe. Joe Carrasco.
A name that Hansel hadn't heard - or really thought about - in eight days. Back home, in Aurora, they had been... could he have called them friends? How could he be friends with someone when he didn't even really know who - what - he was?
Joe looked good, though - skinny, dirty, but outwardly undamaged. It was the shake in his voice that had Hansel's attention and interest, that slight tremor signifying that Joe wasn't seeing his old not-friend Hansel from church.
He was seeing murderer Hansel.
And Hansel was okay with that.
So, instead of respond, Hansel continued to watch Joe's approach, eyebrows raised. Better to let him set the pace of their evolved relationship. Better to let him make the first move.
Joe. Joe Carrasco.
A name that Hansel hadn't heard - or really thought about - in eight days. Back home, in Aurora, they had been... could he have called them friends? How could he be friends with someone when he didn't even really know who - what - he was?
Joe looked good, though - skinny, dirty, but outwardly undamaged. It was the shake in his voice that had Hansel's attention and interest, that slight tremor signifying that Joe wasn't seeing his old not-friend Hansel from church.
He was seeing murderer Hansel.
And Hansel was okay with that.
So, instead of respond, Hansel continued to watch Joe's approach, eyebrows raised. Better to let him set the pace of their evolved relationship. Better to let him make the first move.
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ViolentMedic
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Hansel didn't murder him.
Good start.
Joe shuffled towards him, fiddling with the scythe but always keeping the blade pointed downwards and away from Hansel. What did he do? Get close enough, swing it, hook it around his throat and--even just thinking about it made Joe cringe. But it had to be done, didn't it?
He could. Maybe.
But instead, he came to a halt a few feet from Hansel. He tried to look at Hansel, looked at the floor instead, then at the two bodies nearby, then back to the floor.
Then he sat down. He laid the scythe slowly down next to him.
He told himself he was just trying to act casual.
"...Hey," he squeaked. "I just... I'm sitting. And not... anything. Hi."
Good start.
Joe shuffled towards him, fiddling with the scythe but always keeping the blade pointed downwards and away from Hansel. What did he do? Get close enough, swing it, hook it around his throat and--even just thinking about it made Joe cringe. But it had to be done, didn't it?
He could. Maybe.
But instead, he came to a halt a few feet from Hansel. He tried to look at Hansel, looked at the floor instead, then at the two bodies nearby, then back to the floor.
Then he sat down. He laid the scythe slowly down next to him.
He told himself he was just trying to act casual.
"...Hey," he squeaked. "I just... I'm sitting. And not... anything. Hi."
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NotAFlyingToy
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Hansel kept sketching as the boy sat down across from him, listening to the declaration - the stuttering declaration - as he laid the melee weapon in front of him. The weapon itself wasn't a big concern - there were probably fewer people without weapons at this point, by his assumption - and Joe didn't look like someone who was looking for trouble.
But the tremor in his voice was still there.
"Yeah, okay," Hansel said, making short, consecutive lines, shading, smudging.
After a moment of only the rasp of charcoal on paper to fill the silence, Hansel spoke again.
"Are you af-fuh-raid of me, Joe?"
But the tremor in his voice was still there.
"Yeah, okay," Hansel said, making short, consecutive lines, shading, smudging.
After a moment of only the rasp of charcoal on paper to fill the silence, Hansel spoke again.
"Are you af-fuh-raid of me, Joe?"
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ViolentMedic
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"Of course. I'd... I'd have to be really stupid not to be, w-wouldn't I?"
Stand up. Three big steps. Hook scythe under neck. Slash. Dead. Should be easy. Joe should want to do it. But the anger wasn't there. No anger. No panic, even. Fear, yes, but not panic. Jason had been caused by panic and not thinking. Benjamin... Joe had still been filled with fresh hatred for Travis and what he'd done to Aileen. He'd transplanted the feelings onto a different person, that was all.
This was a lot harder without anger. He should have been angry. Hansel had killed. He'd killed a lot. But he didn't know the people Hansel had killed, with only a couple of exceptions. They were just names. And the exceptions were people that the island was better off without. Like Theodore.
"I... I heard you killed Theodore." That stirred up anger inside him, but not at Hansel. Joe's eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened into a thin line as he thought about Gabby. "I... I don't have to ask why. He... he needed to be stopped. And so did they." Joe jerked his head in the direction of the dead siblings nearby. He tried not to look too hard at them.
"That... that doesn't e-explain the others. Especially from you."
There would be no good explanation. Maybe a bad excuse would be a good thing. If it was bad enough... if it was as bad as Travis' had been...
Stand up. Three big steps. Hook scythe under neck. Slash. Dead. Should be easy. Joe should want to do it. But the anger wasn't there. No anger. No panic, even. Fear, yes, but not panic. Jason had been caused by panic and not thinking. Benjamin... Joe had still been filled with fresh hatred for Travis and what he'd done to Aileen. He'd transplanted the feelings onto a different person, that was all.
This was a lot harder without anger. He should have been angry. Hansel had killed. He'd killed a lot. But he didn't know the people Hansel had killed, with only a couple of exceptions. They were just names. And the exceptions were people that the island was better off without. Like Theodore.
"I... I heard you killed Theodore." That stirred up anger inside him, but not at Hansel. Joe's eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened into a thin line as he thought about Gabby. "I... I don't have to ask why. He... he needed to be stopped. And so did they." Joe jerked his head in the direction of the dead siblings nearby. He tried not to look too hard at them.
"That... that doesn't e-explain the others. Especially from you."
There would be no good explanation. Maybe a bad excuse would be a good thing. If it was bad enough... if it was as bad as Travis' had been...
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NotAFlyingToy
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That got his attention.
Hansel gently, carefully laid the sketchbook to the side, equally careful to not let Joe see what was drawn upon the page, as his gaze held the other boy's. Deliberately, he lowered his eyes to raise an eyebrow at the Scythe, then lifted his glance back towards Joe's face.
Explain?
Joe wanted - what, a bullet list of why he had done what he did? Was he looking for Hansel to excuse himself, give neat little reasons, tidy justifications and rationale for why seven people were dead, and he lived?
Well, nine now. Joe'd apparently lumped the dead Pattons into the list attributed to Hansel's name.
That didn't bother him.
He wanted to laugh, kind of. He wanted to painstakingly break down the fact that Joe's morals - Joe's reasons and rationale and reference of right and wrong - had no place here. Eight days on the island had turned them all into animals, boiled down to the most basic instincts - fight, fuck, eat, sleep, survive.
He wanted to shake Joe for being naive - oh, so naive - after eight days. He wanted to be furious with him for being shielded from the same events he'd been through - escalation resulting in murder, overreaction resulting in violence.
If he was more verbose, more word inclined, he would've said these things.
Instead, he slowly shook his head, asking without malice, without sarcasm - just bald curiosity.
"Why do you kuh-care?
Hansel gently, carefully laid the sketchbook to the side, equally careful to not let Joe see what was drawn upon the page, as his gaze held the other boy's. Deliberately, he lowered his eyes to raise an eyebrow at the Scythe, then lifted his glance back towards Joe's face.
Explain?
Joe wanted - what, a bullet list of why he had done what he did? Was he looking for Hansel to excuse himself, give neat little reasons, tidy justifications and rationale for why seven people were dead, and he lived?
Well, nine now. Joe'd apparently lumped the dead Pattons into the list attributed to Hansel's name.
That didn't bother him.
He wanted to laugh, kind of. He wanted to painstakingly break down the fact that Joe's morals - Joe's reasons and rationale and reference of right and wrong - had no place here. Eight days on the island had turned them all into animals, boiled down to the most basic instincts - fight, fuck, eat, sleep, survive.
He wanted to shake Joe for being naive - oh, so naive - after eight days. He wanted to be furious with him for being shielded from the same events he'd been through - escalation resulting in murder, overreaction resulting in violence.
If he was more verbose, more word inclined, he would've said these things.
Instead, he slowly shook his head, asking without malice, without sarcasm - just bald curiosity.
"Why do you kuh-care?
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ViolentMedic
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"Does it matter why I care?"
Why'd he have to be evasive about it? Why couldn't he just give the terrible reason? Unfortunately, this frustration wasn't the same as the anger he needed. It was more like when Travis would borrow his biology books and forget to return them before the big exam. All the frustration did was overtake the nervousness and help him speak a little clearer. It didn't help him swing the scythe.
Joe leaned back a little, putting his weight on his hands. One of them was near the scythe handle, but not touching it.
"Do I have to switch up the question to get you to answer it? Will you just... did they do anything? Did you think they were a danger? Did you dislike them from back at school? Did they make fun of your hat? Did you decide a trip to Hell would be nice this time of year? Or did you just decide that it was more important for you to live than them?"
Joe wondered about the chances of being able to grab the scythe and attack if Hansel decided he was too annoying to deal with and tried to shoot him. Pretty low chance.
He probably should have tried sneaking up on Hansel. But too late for that. Oh well.
Why'd he have to be evasive about it? Why couldn't he just give the terrible reason? Unfortunately, this frustration wasn't the same as the anger he needed. It was more like when Travis would borrow his biology books and forget to return them before the big exam. All the frustration did was overtake the nervousness and help him speak a little clearer. It didn't help him swing the scythe.
Joe leaned back a little, putting his weight on his hands. One of them was near the scythe handle, but not touching it.
"Do I have to switch up the question to get you to answer it? Will you just... did they do anything? Did you think they were a danger? Did you dislike them from back at school? Did they make fun of your hat? Did you decide a trip to Hell would be nice this time of year? Or did you just decide that it was more important for you to live than them?"
Joe wondered about the chances of being able to grab the scythe and attack if Hansel decided he was too annoying to deal with and tried to shoot him. Pretty low chance.
He probably should have tried sneaking up on Hansel. But too late for that. Oh well.
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NotAFlyingToy
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Hansel leaned back, shifted so that he was a little more comfortable. The conversation reminded him of the lunch room, Garrett and he debating philosophy, religion, getting worked up and passionate.
It all seemed stupid, now.
But he focused in on one statement Joe made, one particular sentence.
"None of us are avoiding Hell. Not after all of this."
He rolled his shoulder - slowly, tenderly, feeling the stretch of pain from the bullet wound. Grim reminder of how he had spent his time on the island, a constant symbol of how far everyone was willing to go. He hadn't traditionally been big on speaking, but maybe he was changing, too.
"I'm nuh-not sure what you want from me, or what the puh-hurpose of this is," he began, "b-but I envy you a little bit for b-b-being able t-to still thuh-hink that way. You still kuh-kuh-carry the idea that some of this - any of the puh-hast eight days - can b-be exp-plained by morals."
Hansel shrugged, tugging at the Patton girl's M1 Garand, rotating it so the barrel pointed at Joe, the stock resting on his thigh.
"I kuh-hilled Theo," he said, keeping his eyes on Joe's, "and he killed others. Am I a buh-hetter person?"
It all seemed stupid, now.
But he focused in on one statement Joe made, one particular sentence.
"None of us are avoiding Hell. Not after all of this."
He rolled his shoulder - slowly, tenderly, feeling the stretch of pain from the bullet wound. Grim reminder of how he had spent his time on the island, a constant symbol of how far everyone was willing to go. He hadn't traditionally been big on speaking, but maybe he was changing, too.
"I'm nuh-not sure what you want from me, or what the puh-hurpose of this is," he began, "b-but I envy you a little bit for b-b-being able t-to still thuh-hink that way. You still kuh-kuh-carry the idea that some of this - any of the puh-hast eight days - can b-be exp-plained by morals."
Hansel shrugged, tugging at the Patton girl's M1 Garand, rotating it so the barrel pointed at Joe, the stock resting on his thigh.
"I kuh-hilled Theo," he said, keeping his eyes on Joe's, "and he killed others. Am I a buh-hetter person?"
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ViolentMedic
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Joe eyed the gun barrel now pointed at him. He hadn't even seen that gun. He'd been too focused on the giant one resting on Hansel's thigh. Was Hansel just a walking armory? No wondered he'd killed so many. No... weapons didn't make the killer. They just helped.
"Th... th..." He stuttered for a few moments. The gun barrel pointing at him was making the frustration die down and the fear wash over him again. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and tried again. "There's some that shouldn't. I mean... not all of us have... have done things that should send us there. Sh-shouldn't have to pay just because..." Joe's eyes flickered sideways. There was a camera. There always was. "Because of them. But... I mean, I wasn't thinking about it that much. I mean, if I were really thinking about that, I'd be gunning down people who were still good. Before they could get all... all like..." Joe shrugged and gestured at himself.
What was he even talking about? This wasn't helping. He wasn't supposed to be getting into some philosophical destruction. Hansel murdered more people than Joe could count on one hand. End of story.
But it wasn't like he could attack now that there was a gun barrel pointed at him. And it wasn't like he currently had the willpower to do so, anyway.
"And no. It doesn't make you better. Killing killers isn't any better."
Or this would be far easier.
"You gonna shoot me?"
"Th... th..." He stuttered for a few moments. The gun barrel pointing at him was making the frustration die down and the fear wash over him again. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and tried again. "There's some that shouldn't. I mean... not all of us have... have done things that should send us there. Sh-shouldn't have to pay just because..." Joe's eyes flickered sideways. There was a camera. There always was. "Because of them. But... I mean, I wasn't thinking about it that much. I mean, if I were really thinking about that, I'd be gunning down people who were still good. Before they could get all... all like..." Joe shrugged and gestured at himself.
What was he even talking about? This wasn't helping. He wasn't supposed to be getting into some philosophical destruction. Hansel murdered more people than Joe could count on one hand. End of story.
But it wasn't like he could attack now that there was a gun barrel pointed at him. And it wasn't like he currently had the willpower to do so, anyway.
"And no. It doesn't make you better. Killing killers isn't any better."
Or this would be far easier.
"You gonna shoot me?"
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NotAFlyingToy
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Hansel nodded along with Joe's fragmented thinking, then lifted a shoulder.
"The correct answer is who gives a shit."
He straightened the gun, keeping the barrel pointed at Joe, his gaze steely. "Nobody out there kuh-can judge what we're d-doing here. So that kuh-kind of thinking - that there's morality in this puh-puh-place..."
The tone trailed off, gaze sliding to the side of Joe, a frown coming upon Hansel's face.
"Nobody's good here, Joe," he said, almost to himself, "just varying duh-degrees of bad."
The gaze snapped back to Joe, then, tilting his head to the side.
"Say I was. You guh-gonna let me?"
"The correct answer is who gives a shit."
He straightened the gun, keeping the barrel pointed at Joe, his gaze steely. "Nobody out there kuh-can judge what we're d-doing here. So that kuh-kind of thinking - that there's morality in this puh-puh-place..."
The tone trailed off, gaze sliding to the side of Joe, a frown coming upon Hansel's face.
"Nobody's good here, Joe," he said, almost to himself, "just varying duh-degrees of bad."
The gaze snapped back to Joe, then, tilting his head to the side.
"Say I was. You guh-gonna let me?"
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ViolentMedic
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"...Am I going to let you?" Joe laughed for the first time in... a while. Not that there was any joy in it. Just jittery, inappropriate laughter. "Yuh... you have an armory. I have a stick with something pointy on the end. How cuh... could I stop you?"
Joe was still thinking about how to. He was coming up blank.
"But... but maybe you're right. Just... kind of a muddle of grey to black at this point, right?" How could he say there was white, when Marcus--perhaps the nicest guy Joe had ever known--had so readily agreed to him murdering people. "But there's still light grey. And there's still black." Joe let out an annoyed huff of breath. "You're... you're making it far too difficult for me to get angry. Why'd you have to talk rational?"
He wasn't sure if he agreed with Hansel. There were still choices on how to play out this game, and as long as there was that morality still factored into it, didn't it? Still excuses. But he wasn't a giggling, insane moron like Travis. ...Why couldn't he be a giggling, insane moron like Travis?
Oh. Speaking of which.
"Well, if you gonna shoot me... can I ask a favor? Okay, it's more like two."
Buy time. And it couldn't hurt to ask. Unless Hansel was the malicious sort who'd do the opposite just to be cruel. But Joe wasn't getting that vibe.
Joe was still thinking about how to. He was coming up blank.
"But... but maybe you're right. Just... kind of a muddle of grey to black at this point, right?" How could he say there was white, when Marcus--perhaps the nicest guy Joe had ever known--had so readily agreed to him murdering people. "But there's still light grey. And there's still black." Joe let out an annoyed huff of breath. "You're... you're making it far too difficult for me to get angry. Why'd you have to talk rational?"
He wasn't sure if he agreed with Hansel. There were still choices on how to play out this game, and as long as there was that morality still factored into it, didn't it? Still excuses. But he wasn't a giggling, insane moron like Travis. ...Why couldn't he be a giggling, insane moron like Travis?
Oh. Speaking of which.
"Well, if you gonna shoot me... can I ask a favor? Okay, it's more like two."
Buy time. And it couldn't hurt to ask. Unless Hansel was the malicious sort who'd do the opposite just to be cruel. But Joe wasn't getting that vibe.
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NotAFlyingToy
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Hansel watched Joe, silently, for a few moments, allowing the stammering, nervous spiel to float alone in the room. He found himself doing it not because he was afraid of his stutter embarrassing him, or being ridiculed for his opinion. Now, he just enjoyed the silence, thought carefully about what he was going to say next.
The idea that he was going to do a favour for Joe was laughable, but he nodded, waved his hand, motioning for the other boy to continue, lifting the M1 Garand in his hands, tilting it to examine it, then placing the butt against his shoulder, the barrel now at Joe's eye level.
His right finger comfortably curled around the trigger.
The idea that he was going to do a favour for Joe was laughable, but he nodded, waved his hand, motioning for the other boy to continue, lifting the M1 Garand in his hands, tilting it to examine it, then placing the butt against his shoulder, the barrel now at Joe's eye level.
His right finger comfortably curled around the trigger.
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ViolentMedic
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Joe's breaths got heavier and shakier as the gun got closer. He thought about Jason. Wondered if he'd had time to be scared before Joe shot him.
"I have... I have a friend. Marcus. Y-you probably know him, he went to our church. He's... he's not a danger to you. All he has is a sword thing. I'd... I'd ask for you to just ignore him if you see him. That's the first one. The second..." Joe stopped and tried to steady his breathing. "There's... there's someone else. Travis. If you don't know him... black hair, used to dress in weird, bright punk colours back at school, always had on these... these really bright rings... last I saw, he was carrying a scalpel."
Joe's mouth pressed into a thin line as he hesitated.
"If you see him... shoot. Don't give him a chance to leave. That's all I wanted to ask."
The second his words were done, he dived forward and tried to grab the gun. It was the only way out that he saw.
Even if he had to fire it, this time there was no Jason to shoot.
"I have... I have a friend. Marcus. Y-you probably know him, he went to our church. He's... he's not a danger to you. All he has is a sword thing. I'd... I'd ask for you to just ignore him if you see him. That's the first one. The second..." Joe stopped and tried to steady his breathing. "There's... there's someone else. Travis. If you don't know him... black hair, used to dress in weird, bright punk colours back at school, always had on these... these really bright rings... last I saw, he was carrying a scalpel."
Joe's mouth pressed into a thin line as he hesitated.
"If you see him... shoot. Don't give him a chance to leave. That's all I wanted to ask."
The second his words were done, he dived forward and tried to grab the gun. It was the only way out that he saw.
Even if he had to fire it, this time there was no Jason to shoot.
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NotAFlyingToy
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Hansel watched as Joe lunged, and the world seemed to slow to a crawl - like Theo, lunging across at him to strike and slap and lash out. His adrenaline spiked, pulse thumped, vision shortened until all he could see was Joe and his leap towards him, hands stretching out to grab at the archaic firearm.
He had ample time to lift the gun, pull the trigger, even move it back to contest the grab.
But he didn't.
He released the Garand as Joe lunged for it, meaning that the boy grabbed it away from him with ease. Slowly, carefully, he raised his palms in the air.
"Sure," he said, thinking that there was no way in fuck he was doing that. He had enough on his plate without injecting more people's rules into his survival.
"Kuh-heep the gun. It'll puh-hoot you on even g-ground next time. You know the way out."
He had ample time to lift the gun, pull the trigger, even move it back to contest the grab.
But he didn't.
He released the Garand as Joe lunged for it, meaning that the boy grabbed it away from him with ease. Slowly, carefully, he raised his palms in the air.
"Sure," he said, thinking that there was no way in fuck he was doing that. He had enough on his plate without injecting more people's rules into his survival.
"Kuh-heep the gun. It'll puh-hoot you on even g-ground next time. You know the way out."