((Darlene Silva continued from Danya Baby))
The forest path Darlene was following wasn't even really a path per se. It was a long stretch of disturbed earth, the scattered ground cover and loose leaves and bark pulled up and the top layer of dirt worn away to reveal the darker soil beneath. It could've been worn in by animals, but Darlene knew the real source; her sneakers were a darker brown than ever before, little pieces of crud caught between the laces, smudges of mud around her ankles, mixed with the tiny scabs and cuts from kicking around in the underbrush and under a bush. She'd been dragging her feet on purpose, on her way away from Abe and Christina, just so she would have this trail to follow on her return.
The foot-dragging now was more metaphorical.
When first she'd set out to make this return trip (which made it sound like it was a million years ago instead of maybe thirty minutes) she'd kept her eyes to the sky, appreciating the beauty of the verdant canopy and the way the light filtered through, the way the rain tapered off but fat drops of water still tumbled from the heavens. Now, her gaze was locked firmly to the ground. Those dribbles still came here and there, emptying off leaves, pooling on twigs. Cohesion and adhesion, she thought. In elementary school they'd learned about those. Darlene remembered getting everything just right to pour one cup of water into another not directly under it but by using a wet piece of string, which conducted the liquid along it without spilling. She remembered, also, covering the tip of a straw with her finger so she could lift it out of her drink and have some soda still inside, which she could then release on her tongue. She wasn't quite sure what the scientific process behind that phenomenon was, though was pretty sure she'd learned it at some point. Something to do with pressure, probably, like a barometer. She still played that game with the straw sometimes, when nobody was looking. Or, she had, when straws were still part of her life.
Anyways, the thing was, now the drops of water that hit the dirt were nice mostly because they meant Darlene didn't have to think about if she was still crying. Maybe she was, or maybe she wasn't. It didn't matter; either way her glasses were wet and there were speckles of dampness all over the ground.
She'd been further back towards where Arizona was than she'd thought. Distance as well as time was sometimes difficult, and her estimations had been maybe a thousand, two thousand feet from where she'd left the others but Darlene wasn't a surveyor and another science class thing was coming back to her, a lesson on estimation and specifically distances, and she had struggled some with it, figuring out if the poster in the corner was one meter tall or only half. And also, all of a sudden she was remembering that a mile was... five thousand, two hundred, and sixty feet? So she had potentially gone a quarter to half a mile away, more caught up counting her steps and watching for landmarks and good bushes than in feeling the physical nature of that distance.
A mile had seemed so long back at school when she had to run it for gym. Now it was like nothing. She'd walked miles and miles and her shoelaces had split at the ends and the rubber of the soles was all ragged and getting thin but she didn't think about that so much. She still had to take rests on big treks, but she had been all over this place. It was sort of incredible to think about.
It was better to think about, at least, than what she'd done, the mistake she'd made that could never be rectified, the plans she was hatching and the future in store for her, when she met up with Abe and Christina and beyond. It was good to feel for a moment like she'd done something right, like she was tougher and more capable, like she'd gotten rid of the guns in a smart way and like she'd learned something.
She hadn't learned to split her attention properly, though, not yet. She was walking especially close to a big thick tree, letting the dirty fingertips of her left hand trail across the rough bark, when someone came around it at cross-paths to her. She should've seen, should've heard, had heard in fact because all of a sudden now her mind supplied that there'd been some clanking of metal and rustling of cloth going on for a few seconds at least, but still Darlene yelped and actually jumped backwards.
Her right hand came partway up, thumb already reaching for the hammer of the revolver, but as she blinked and breathed, as her heart pounded from her toes to her ears, she didn't draw it back.
She had learned something after all.
Mama's Gonna Look So Great
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Out of focus, out of breath and out his goddamn mind—what else was new?
There had been so many lives lost and lessons learned and yet somehow Beats remained a creature of habit. No matter what he did or who he did it to--he still succumbed and suffered to that incurable malady of self. Selfishness accompanied with self-awareness did not make him a cut above anyone else. Beats had tried hard to ice his heart and silence his conscience and he had failed. Spectacularly. Ace had killed Connor and cried like someone else had done it. Beats had beat Justin down and marinated in his screams and became blind to his own brutality. Ace had taken one look at that girl in the window and emptied the whole damn clip twice over.
The same exact person was capable of both compassion and cruelty. Ace’s compassion had died on day eleven--and day nine. Day seven--and day five. Ace had tried hard to ice his heart and silence his conscience and he had failed. Spectacularly. He still felt doubt. He still felt guilt. He still felt sadness.
None of the three were enough to stop him from doing anything to anyone. Self-aware selfishness wasn’t anymore intrinsically noble.
It wasn’t out of nobility that he didn’t shoot at the short girl who popped up in front of him on the path he was cutting through the woods.
It was more out of genuine surprise.
Beats had ran from the Leadership Houses with quick strides and an even quicker mental abandon. Ace hadn’t had time to reload his two pistols which remained empty in his pockets. The Luger was in his waistband. The BR18 was hanging from the strap off one shoulder while his bag hung from the other. He had stopped running but he hadn't stopped moving. This little short girl had came out of nowhere. Unnoticeable and stealthy. It didn’t seem like she had to try hard to catch people off guard. This was the second time she had done it to Ace. It seemed rather effortless for her actually.
“Goddamn! Holy Shit! What the fuck!"
Beats maintained his composure now better than he did then—or at least his balance. Truth be told, thinking back, that memory was probably the last good one he had. Right before that explosion. Right before everything went to shit for the umpteenth time. Ace had been making out with a topless Sakurako when this chick walked up to the lake. It had been scary at the moment but funny almost a second later. It was a good memory. Ace would never forget it. Ace couldn't forget her either.
"Charlene...?"
There had been so many lives lost and lessons learned and yet somehow Beats remained a creature of habit. No matter what he did or who he did it to--he still succumbed and suffered to that incurable malady of self. Selfishness accompanied with self-awareness did not make him a cut above anyone else. Beats had tried hard to ice his heart and silence his conscience and he had failed. Spectacularly. Ace had killed Connor and cried like someone else had done it. Beats had beat Justin down and marinated in his screams and became blind to his own brutality. Ace had taken one look at that girl in the window and emptied the whole damn clip twice over.
The same exact person was capable of both compassion and cruelty. Ace’s compassion had died on day eleven--and day nine. Day seven--and day five. Ace had tried hard to ice his heart and silence his conscience and he had failed. Spectacularly. He still felt doubt. He still felt guilt. He still felt sadness.
None of the three were enough to stop him from doing anything to anyone. Self-aware selfishness wasn’t anymore intrinsically noble.
[ Ace Ortega Continued From: ali bomaye ]
It wasn’t out of nobility that he didn’t shoot at the short girl who popped up in front of him on the path he was cutting through the woods.
It was more out of genuine surprise.
Beats had ran from the Leadership Houses with quick strides and an even quicker mental abandon. Ace hadn’t had time to reload his two pistols which remained empty in his pockets. The Luger was in his waistband. The BR18 was hanging from the strap off one shoulder while his bag hung from the other. He had stopped running but he hadn't stopped moving. This little short girl had came out of nowhere. Unnoticeable and stealthy. It didn’t seem like she had to try hard to catch people off guard. This was the second time she had done it to Ace. It seemed rather effortless for her actually.
“Goddamn! Holy Shit! What the fuck!"
Beats maintained his composure now better than he did then—or at least his balance. Truth be told, thinking back, that memory was probably the last good one he had. Right before that explosion. Right before everything went to shit for the umpteenth time. Ace had been making out with a topless Sakurako when this chick walked up to the lake. It had been scary at the moment but funny almost a second later. It was a good memory. Ace would never forget it. Ace couldn't forget her either.
"Charlene...?"
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
This was the second time in less than an hour that Darlene found herself startled in this small span of forest by somebody she, well, wasn't exactly friends with, but at least saw in a cordial light. Maybe she should've been thankful for that. Instead, she couldn't help wishing the order had been reversed.
It wasn't that she didn't like Ace! He was fine. He'd seemed, okay, kind of intimidating in each of the times they crossed paths with one another but still generally alright, and she bore him no ill will, but all the same he wasn't Arizona. She didn't wish him death, but if Darlene gunned him down on the spot and Jonah was alive to hear about it, he'd be disappointed in her for sure and probably want to hold the gun for a while, but Darlene thought he probably wouldn't cradle Ace's body and weep, which marked the guy as comparatively expendable.
But that was a stupid thing to be thinking and wishing anyways, really, because if she was wanting what she couldn't have, why not go a step further and just wish away the mistake to begin with? Take that out of the picture, and now she and Arizona and Ace would be all of them together making their way back to Abe and Christina. And, and at that point, couldn't they just be back in school, please?
These thoughts were quick and jumbled, a cascade of emotions and ideas and self-corrections that played out as her breathe picked up and she tried to figure out what to do. This was not a situation she was actually prepared for at all. Somehow she hadn't thought what it would be like to meet someone else before the other two, and especially not someone who wasn't attacking her right away.
They were standing close even after she recoiled. He could probably grab her if he wanted without taking more than a big step (it would take her a little more moving because her arms were a lot shorter). She was trembling slightly but mostly her hands, and there was a good chance that was as much from fatigue as anything else. Her ear and shoulder hurt but especially the latter after she'd used it more than normal when pitching the big gun down the hill.
Her revolver was halfway up, held in one hand only, not precisely ready, but not unready either. Darlene kind of wanted to lower it, but she made no move to do so.
After all, since they'd parted ways, Ace had been on the announcements at least twice that she remembered. Once had been the day after he left, and she couldn't say a thing about it besides that, and the other had been hours ago now and it had been impenetrably sports-related but they'd made it sound bad. She'd thought about that at the time, had thought probably they were lying or spinning it, but it was hard to say. It hadn't really mattered then. Maybe he was dangerous after all.
But there was at least enough time and space and hesitation that Darlene brought her empty left hand around and dragged it across her face once, pushing her glasses up above her nose and wiping tears and gunk and some snot against the back of her wrist, and then she gave it a second pass with the side of her fingers because she'd smeared some of the snot all along her cheek and didn't want it drying to a crust there, and then she cleaned her hand against her dirty skirt, and the encounter didn't become fighting in those scant seconds.
Her mind finally caught up with his mouth.
"Dar," she said quietly, and she normally would've laughed but not right now. Things were still too tense, too fresh, but the corners of her lips rose a bit.
Ace was wearing a shirt, she realized. Maybe that was part of what was putting her off-guard. She hadn't really seen him fully clothed much. Oh yes, there were other things too, like how he'd run off and left them and not come back, but at the time Darlene had been all ready to give the benefit of the doubt, and this was so far at least a positive meeting.
"I, uh, I'm glad," she started, and then stopped, paused a second and corrected herself.
"Are you okay?"
It wasn't that she didn't like Ace! He was fine. He'd seemed, okay, kind of intimidating in each of the times they crossed paths with one another but still generally alright, and she bore him no ill will, but all the same he wasn't Arizona. She didn't wish him death, but if Darlene gunned him down on the spot and Jonah was alive to hear about it, he'd be disappointed in her for sure and probably want to hold the gun for a while, but Darlene thought he probably wouldn't cradle Ace's body and weep, which marked the guy as comparatively expendable.
But that was a stupid thing to be thinking and wishing anyways, really, because if she was wanting what she couldn't have, why not go a step further and just wish away the mistake to begin with? Take that out of the picture, and now she and Arizona and Ace would be all of them together making their way back to Abe and Christina. And, and at that point, couldn't they just be back in school, please?
These thoughts were quick and jumbled, a cascade of emotions and ideas and self-corrections that played out as her breathe picked up and she tried to figure out what to do. This was not a situation she was actually prepared for at all. Somehow she hadn't thought what it would be like to meet someone else before the other two, and especially not someone who wasn't attacking her right away.
They were standing close even after she recoiled. He could probably grab her if he wanted without taking more than a big step (it would take her a little more moving because her arms were a lot shorter). She was trembling slightly but mostly her hands, and there was a good chance that was as much from fatigue as anything else. Her ear and shoulder hurt but especially the latter after she'd used it more than normal when pitching the big gun down the hill.
Her revolver was halfway up, held in one hand only, not precisely ready, but not unready either. Darlene kind of wanted to lower it, but she made no move to do so.
After all, since they'd parted ways, Ace had been on the announcements at least twice that she remembered. Once had been the day after he left, and she couldn't say a thing about it besides that, and the other had been hours ago now and it had been impenetrably sports-related but they'd made it sound bad. She'd thought about that at the time, had thought probably they were lying or spinning it, but it was hard to say. It hadn't really mattered then. Maybe he was dangerous after all.
But there was at least enough time and space and hesitation that Darlene brought her empty left hand around and dragged it across her face once, pushing her glasses up above her nose and wiping tears and gunk and some snot against the back of her wrist, and then she gave it a second pass with the side of her fingers because she'd smeared some of the snot all along her cheek and didn't want it drying to a crust there, and then she cleaned her hand against her dirty skirt, and the encounter didn't become fighting in those scant seconds.
Her mind finally caught up with his mouth.
"Dar," she said quietly, and she normally would've laughed but not right now. Things were still too tense, too fresh, but the corners of her lips rose a bit.
Ace was wearing a shirt, she realized. Maybe that was part of what was putting her off-guard. She hadn't really seen him fully clothed much. Oh yes, there were other things too, like how he'd run off and left them and not come back, but at the time Darlene had been all ready to give the benefit of the doubt, and this was so far at least a positive meeting.
"I, uh, I'm glad," she started, and then stopped, paused a second and corrected herself.
"Are you okay?"
“Dar,” he sputtered, “Sorry.”
Ace hadn’t known Parker’s name when he killed him. Beats didn’t know the name of the girl he had shot at not too long ago either. Was there much in a name? Did he really care about getting Darlene’s wrong? What a strange thing to apologize about when you had five murders to your name. But, y’know, was there much in a name anyway?
“Hangin’ in there,” a lie, “Kinda hungry.”
His eyes shifted from her face to the gun and then back again and again. Ace thought about shooting her down, he thought about simply grabbing at her arm and taking the damn weapon out her hands. Would she be able to shoot him before he could deck her in the mouth? Would that be enough to knock her out? Could he hit somebody with glasses? A five-two high school girl? Was killing a random girl more immoral than killing his teammate and friend? It wasn't like he was even above harming a girl--he had pistol whipped Lori before he shot her down. Ace had emptied the clip twice over at the girl in the window not too long ago.
Murder island didn’t lend itself to a progressive thinking. Ace had been friends with Wyatt—he prolly was never that progressive in the first place.
Ace fidgeted and moved side to side but resisted making any sudden or dramatic movements. You didn't want to give a person with a gun reason to shoot. Ace had been on both ends of that spectrum. He had learned something after all.
“How ‘bout you? You alright?”
Ace hadn’t known Parker’s name when he killed him. Beats didn’t know the name of the girl he had shot at not too long ago either. Was there much in a name? Did he really care about getting Darlene’s wrong? What a strange thing to apologize about when you had five murders to your name. But, y’know, was there much in a name anyway?
“Hangin’ in there,” a lie, “Kinda hungry.”
His eyes shifted from her face to the gun and then back again and again. Ace thought about shooting her down, he thought about simply grabbing at her arm and taking the damn weapon out her hands. Would she be able to shoot him before he could deck her in the mouth? Would that be enough to knock her out? Could he hit somebody with glasses? A five-two high school girl? Was killing a random girl more immoral than killing his teammate and friend? It wasn't like he was even above harming a girl--he had pistol whipped Lori before he shot her down. Ace had emptied the clip twice over at the girl in the window not too long ago.
Murder island didn’t lend itself to a progressive thinking. Ace had been friends with Wyatt—he prolly was never that progressive in the first place.
Ace fidgeted and moved side to side but resisted making any sudden or dramatic movements. You didn't want to give a person with a gun reason to shoot. Ace had been on both ends of that spectrum. He had learned something after all.
“How ‘bout you? You alright?”
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
So that's how it was going to be. For now, at least. The feeling that produced was close enough to relief. Darlene sighed and some of the tension went out of her. Naturally, guilt was right there to take its place.
"Not really," she admitted.
It was way too weird to have this conversation with the revolver at half mast, and there was a pretty good chance besides that even if she shot Ace with every single one of her bullets he could still get to her and pop her head off before dying if he really wanted to. It took a while for everything to stop, plenty of time to cause some harm. Darlene was only still alive because Arizona hadn't wanted her otherwise. She didn't know who she was kidding anyways. She didn't want to shoot Ace.
Moving slowly, so she wouldn't spook him into thinking she was doing something sneaky instead, Darlene lowered her hand and brought the gun around and tucked it away in the side of her skirt. The metal of the barrel was cold on her thigh, and the pointy bit for aiming got sort of tangled up in the cloth in the process, but soon enough it was stowed. The weapon was out of neither sight nor mind, but Darlene was no quick-draw expert and Ace probably could guess that. He had, after all, seen her react back at the lake, though thinking about it she'd been pretty quick to react then. She'd been almost proud, in those moments, shooting at Abe without knowing who he was. It was hard to look back on that memory now.
"I, uh, well," Darlene started, as she turned and pressed her back to the tree. The bark scraped and tugged at her blouse. She paused for a moment and licked her lips, which tasted like tears and sweat and snot and mud. She managed not to spit right into the dirt between her feet, but it was tempting.
"I did something bad," Darlene finally continued. "I, by mistake I—I shot someone I didn't mean to."
Slowly she let herself slide down the tree, almost like the strength had gone out of her and she'd never get back up again. She had to use her now-free right hand to keep her blouse from riding up and leaving her lower back to get all scratched up by the tree. By the time she found herself sitting in the dirt, looking up at Ace, she felt almost comfortable, though. She wasn't smiling, but she felt more confident that she was being honest when her voice came close to something like normal.
"I can tell you if you want, but I don't have to." She shrugged. "And, and, uh, she was—she had some food. Real food."
Darlene patted the damp earth next to her. This wouldn't be the biggest mistake or betrayal of the day.
"You can have some if you want."
"Not really," she admitted.
It was way too weird to have this conversation with the revolver at half mast, and there was a pretty good chance besides that even if she shot Ace with every single one of her bullets he could still get to her and pop her head off before dying if he really wanted to. It took a while for everything to stop, plenty of time to cause some harm. Darlene was only still alive because Arizona hadn't wanted her otherwise. She didn't know who she was kidding anyways. She didn't want to shoot Ace.
Moving slowly, so she wouldn't spook him into thinking she was doing something sneaky instead, Darlene lowered her hand and brought the gun around and tucked it away in the side of her skirt. The metal of the barrel was cold on her thigh, and the pointy bit for aiming got sort of tangled up in the cloth in the process, but soon enough it was stowed. The weapon was out of neither sight nor mind, but Darlene was no quick-draw expert and Ace probably could guess that. He had, after all, seen her react back at the lake, though thinking about it she'd been pretty quick to react then. She'd been almost proud, in those moments, shooting at Abe without knowing who he was. It was hard to look back on that memory now.
"I, uh, well," Darlene started, as she turned and pressed her back to the tree. The bark scraped and tugged at her blouse. She paused for a moment and licked her lips, which tasted like tears and sweat and snot and mud. She managed not to spit right into the dirt between her feet, but it was tempting.
"I did something bad," Darlene finally continued. "I, by mistake I—I shot someone I didn't mean to."
Slowly she let herself slide down the tree, almost like the strength had gone out of her and she'd never get back up again. She had to use her now-free right hand to keep her blouse from riding up and leaving her lower back to get all scratched up by the tree. By the time she found herself sitting in the dirt, looking up at Ace, she felt almost comfortable, though. She wasn't smiling, but she felt more confident that she was being honest when her voice came close to something like normal.
"I can tell you if you want, but I don't have to." She shrugged. "And, and, uh, she was—she had some food. Real food."
Darlene patted the damp earth next to her. This wouldn't be the biggest mistake or betrayal of the day.
"You can have some if you want."
“I would if I could…”
Trusting people out here was wrong. Being friends with folks out here got you nowhere. You know what happened to friends on SOTF? They died. Often at the hands of other friends. Ace knew that truth first hand—had proven it with his own. Seemed Darlene did as well.
“Y’know,” he finally said, “Fuck it, why not?”
Beats was tired of the killing and the fighting and the constant looking over his shoulder. Ace had killed Connor when he did because he doubted his ability to kill him later when it was needed. There was no doubt with Darlene. Ace didn’t have to look at you to shoot you dead. Beats didn’t even have to know somebody’s name to know that he deserved to live more than they did. It wasn’t personal. Even with the people he knew personally. Except they were all people, weren’t they? You were dealing with real persons. Everything was personal.
It was disrespectful to Connor to merely sit down and eat with Darlene. Ace should’ve unloaded the BR18 in her…take her food and her weapon and leave her bleeding and dead. Whoops! Dumb move kiddo! Better luck next time! Except he didn’t want to do that and he didn’t need to do that and he didn’t feel like doing that—so why the fuck would he? Disrespect was a low sin on the Ace totem pole. Connor would forgive him or Ace would have to live with the fact that he didn't. Lorenzen had cursed Ace with that fate in his dying breath. This was winning time. The home stretch. It was just about survival now.
Except when it wasn’t. Except when he had found Justin. Except when that girl burst through that window. Except when he eventually found Blaise too. This was an exception to those clear exceptions. Beats made personal rules just to punish himself later for breaking them. Ace made his way towards Darlene and plopped his bag on one side, while removing his rifle from his shoulder and placing it on top of the duffel. The Luger was still in his waistband ready to go—it was the most vulnerable Ace had felt since the lake. Sitting Indian style next to Darlene, damn near shoulder to shoulder—a quiet moment in the shade. Damn near close to a picnic apparently.
“You don’t gotta talk ‘bout it if you don’t want too, I’m not the best person on this stuff,” he said with a somber tone, “I’ve killed people on purpose.”
And probably would again. Why even waste time with probably?
"I can listen pretty good tho."
Beats took off his hat and rubbed his fingers through his sweaty hair. He placed the cap on top of the gun—if it was magical, it definitely was cursed. Beats could do without the voodoo for a second.
“What kinda food you got?”
Trusting people out here was wrong. Being friends with folks out here got you nowhere. You know what happened to friends on SOTF? They died. Often at the hands of other friends. Ace knew that truth first hand—had proven it with his own. Seemed Darlene did as well.
“Y’know,” he finally said, “Fuck it, why not?”
Beats was tired of the killing and the fighting and the constant looking over his shoulder. Ace had killed Connor when he did because he doubted his ability to kill him later when it was needed. There was no doubt with Darlene. Ace didn’t have to look at you to shoot you dead. Beats didn’t even have to know somebody’s name to know that he deserved to live more than they did. It wasn’t personal. Even with the people he knew personally. Except they were all people, weren’t they? You were dealing with real persons. Everything was personal.
It was disrespectful to Connor to merely sit down and eat with Darlene. Ace should’ve unloaded the BR18 in her…take her food and her weapon and leave her bleeding and dead. Whoops! Dumb move kiddo! Better luck next time! Except he didn’t want to do that and he didn’t need to do that and he didn’t feel like doing that—so why the fuck would he? Disrespect was a low sin on the Ace totem pole. Connor would forgive him or Ace would have to live with the fact that he didn't. Lorenzen had cursed Ace with that fate in his dying breath. This was winning time. The home stretch. It was just about survival now.
Except when it wasn’t. Except when he had found Justin. Except when that girl burst through that window. Except when he eventually found Blaise too. This was an exception to those clear exceptions. Beats made personal rules just to punish himself later for breaking them. Ace made his way towards Darlene and plopped his bag on one side, while removing his rifle from his shoulder and placing it on top of the duffel. The Luger was still in his waistband ready to go—it was the most vulnerable Ace had felt since the lake. Sitting Indian style next to Darlene, damn near shoulder to shoulder—a quiet moment in the shade. Damn near close to a picnic apparently.
“You don’t gotta talk ‘bout it if you don’t want too, I’m not the best person on this stuff,” he said with a somber tone, “I’ve killed people on purpose.”
And probably would again. Why even waste time with probably?
"I can listen pretty good tho."
Beats took off his hat and rubbed his fingers through his sweaty hair. He placed the cap on top of the gun—if it was magical, it definitely was cursed. Beats could do without the voodoo for a second.
“What kinda food you got?”
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"It's, it's meat," Darlene said, her hands already working the zipper of the bag. She had a reason to open it, now, and they together had an understanding, so he would know she wasn't being shifty. At least, that was the hope, the theory.
Truthfully, she was a little bit distracted at the moment, because something Ace said hadn't quite rested right with her. It wasn't that offended her; exactly the opposite. He'd given her too much credit, just sort of casually and offhand. He drew a comparison between them, admitted to killing on purpose, and in so doing he implied that Darlene had not. And, of course, that wasn't very true, was it?
It was excusable in the extreme to think that Darlene wasn't someone who picked her words all that carefully. She mostly wasn't. When someone caught her off guard, when someone made her angry or surprised her or got her scared, she would usually stumble over herself as she spewed whatever came to mind without taking the time to filter or edit it in her head. But in this one particular instance, she'd actually chosen one single word with a lot of care. She'd called Arizona's shooting a "mistake," and definitely not an "accident." Because Darlene ha'd known full well as she turned and spun that whoever was on the other end might not have a good time, just like she'd known every time at the lake, when she returned fire at unseen foes and friends and when she ambushed the boy with the chainsaw. She just hadn't paused to imagine it might be someone undeserving—or, no, more honestly: someone she cared about—on the receiving end.
Had she cut down someone whose name she didn't know, or someone who really was up to something nefarious, or even a peripheral figure in her awareness—even Ace himself—she wouldn't feel half as bad. Still some bad, of course, but a lot less.
No easy way presented itself to share this train of thought, and probably it would be a really bad idea anyways. So instead she just didn't say anything about that and pulled the meat out of the bag. It was of course not hot, except insofar as everything was in the muggy humid midday. The meat was a big thick slab, wrapped in wax paper and soft to the touch except for the bones it clung to, sticky with sauce she could smell as soon as it came out, pushing all the other scents of wetness and dirt and vegetation and faint blood off to the side. Darlene unfolded the wax paper and laid it between them, with a little nod and a smaller smile.
"It was Arizona," she said, looking away and out into the woods. It was pretty still here, not much sign of animal activity except for the omnipresent hum and buzz of hidden bugs. She still couldn't find any birds, still felt bad.
"We were—had, we'd been together some, and Jonah too. She split off to get the first one she won, and then, then Michael found me and Jonah and, and anyways, I didn't see her after that for a while. That was before the lake."
Surely Ace already knew that piece of the chronology, if he was paying even faint attention to the announcements. Darlene could feel the story threatening to get away from her, could feel the mountains of vital details that would mean absolutely nothing to the boy beside her building up in her throat and mind. She wanted to tell how even that had been the second meeting with Jonah and Arizona. She wanted to talk about Max and the dog, the rainbow trail of marshmallows, the trial and the cave and Kelly and Stephanie and everything else.
"We, um, Arizona called out, she said my name and, and someone attacked us again yesterday like before, and I thought it was going to be that again, so I just started shooting."
Darlene reached over and pulled off a chunk of the meat, brought it closer to her mouth but didn't let it touch her lips quite yet.
"Abe and Christina—she, uh, Christina came later"—A necessary addendum, since Ace probably had no idea who the girl was—"they're still near here somewhere. Or, or they were, a little ago."
Truthfully, she was a little bit distracted at the moment, because something Ace said hadn't quite rested right with her. It wasn't that offended her; exactly the opposite. He'd given her too much credit, just sort of casually and offhand. He drew a comparison between them, admitted to killing on purpose, and in so doing he implied that Darlene had not. And, of course, that wasn't very true, was it?
It was excusable in the extreme to think that Darlene wasn't someone who picked her words all that carefully. She mostly wasn't. When someone caught her off guard, when someone made her angry or surprised her or got her scared, she would usually stumble over herself as she spewed whatever came to mind without taking the time to filter or edit it in her head. But in this one particular instance, she'd actually chosen one single word with a lot of care. She'd called Arizona's shooting a "mistake," and definitely not an "accident." Because Darlene ha'd known full well as she turned and spun that whoever was on the other end might not have a good time, just like she'd known every time at the lake, when she returned fire at unseen foes and friends and when she ambushed the boy with the chainsaw. She just hadn't paused to imagine it might be someone undeserving—or, no, more honestly: someone she cared about—on the receiving end.
Had she cut down someone whose name she didn't know, or someone who really was up to something nefarious, or even a peripheral figure in her awareness—even Ace himself—she wouldn't feel half as bad. Still some bad, of course, but a lot less.
No easy way presented itself to share this train of thought, and probably it would be a really bad idea anyways. So instead she just didn't say anything about that and pulled the meat out of the bag. It was of course not hot, except insofar as everything was in the muggy humid midday. The meat was a big thick slab, wrapped in wax paper and soft to the touch except for the bones it clung to, sticky with sauce she could smell as soon as it came out, pushing all the other scents of wetness and dirt and vegetation and faint blood off to the side. Darlene unfolded the wax paper and laid it between them, with a little nod and a smaller smile.
"It was Arizona," she said, looking away and out into the woods. It was pretty still here, not much sign of animal activity except for the omnipresent hum and buzz of hidden bugs. She still couldn't find any birds, still felt bad.
"We were—had, we'd been together some, and Jonah too. She split off to get the first one she won, and then, then Michael found me and Jonah and, and anyways, I didn't see her after that for a while. That was before the lake."
Surely Ace already knew that piece of the chronology, if he was paying even faint attention to the announcements. Darlene could feel the story threatening to get away from her, could feel the mountains of vital details that would mean absolutely nothing to the boy beside her building up in her throat and mind. She wanted to tell how even that had been the second meeting with Jonah and Arizona. She wanted to talk about Max and the dog, the rainbow trail of marshmallows, the trial and the cave and Kelly and Stephanie and everything else.
"We, um, Arizona called out, she said my name and, and someone attacked us again yesterday like before, and I thought it was going to be that again, so I just started shooting."
Darlene reached over and pulled off a chunk of the meat, brought it closer to her mouth but didn't let it touch her lips quite yet.
"Abe and Christina—she, uh, Christina came later"—A necessary addendum, since Ace probably had no idea who the girl was—"they're still near here somewhere. Or, or they were, a little ago."
Ace had lied—but that was a low sin on the Beats totem pole.
It wasn’t a malicious lie or an ill-intentioned one but instead it was more of a fib. He was bigging himself up. Making himself out to be more than what he was. Beats wasn’t a good listener. Ace, in fact, was too in his own head to be anything but a bad one. Darlene began her tale and Ace was sufficiently able to do the math: she shot ‘Zona because she had been caught by surprise. Darlene had been with ‘Zona and Jonah a bit throughout the game and had been there when both died. Ace knew that because he knew Michael had killed Jonah and ‘Zona had killed Michael and that’s why she had gotten the—
Fuckin’ ribs?!
So, yeah, that’s why Ace wasn’t that good of a listener. He was far too bewitched by barbecue sauce.
“Wow…,” Beats said in response to Darlene's story and her referencing Abe and Christina, “That’s crazy.”
And that’s what you say to somebody when you aren’t listening to them. That’s what you say to somebody when you aren’t really paying attention.
He didn’t know what to say to Darlene. Everybody had a story at this point and Ace had one for every day of the week. He ripped off a piece of meat—it was tender to the touch but remained firmly on the bone. The mark of a good rib was both a degree of tenderness and a degree of bite. Folks spoke about fall off the bone ribs but what you wanted was a degree of structure and resistance. If ribs were too tender it was a sign of them being overdone. These ribs weren’t the freshest but they weren’t overdone either. Ace loved ribs—they were his favorite BBQ meat. When he last had BBQ he hadn’t splurged for ribs, he had gotten pulled pork instead. The ribs were $16.99 and the pulled pork was $6.99. Seemed like a good deal at the time.
Ace was as bad with money as he was with listening.
Beats took a bite out of the rib and immediately felt himself tear up. The meat was smoky and yet like candy with a great bark and tender melt in your mouth meat. Ace didn’t cry when Meilin died. Beats didn’t shed a tear when he had first became a murderer. The past few days he had cried more about smoked meats and a t-shirt than he had about watching his first girlfriend get stabbed to death. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t really about the shirt or the ribs.
It wasn’t really fair to say that he wasn’t listening to Darlene either.
“Shoot first, ask questions never,” he whispered and wiped his mouth choking down the tender meat, “That ain’t your fault. That’s just the game. That’s just this situation.”
Was he saying that to himself or to Darlene? Ace wanted to win, Ace wanted to go home. There was only one way to do that and there was no way around it in this moment. Kill or be killed. It wasn’t what Ace wanted to do and it wasn’t the choice he wanted to make—but what else was there? One person lives and everybody else dies. Everything was self-defense. It all was justified. It wasn’t personal—but how could it not be? He was a person.
“It’s usually pretty quick,” he tried to take another bite but he couldn’t, “Usually they don’t say nothin’ to you,” he heard Justin’s screams and Connor’s last words as whispers in the wind, “Usually.”
Beats wasn’t a good listener. That was a lie. More of a fib.
“Did she go peaceful? She didn't suffer long...?"
It wasn’t a malicious lie or an ill-intentioned one but instead it was more of a fib. He was bigging himself up. Making himself out to be more than what he was. Beats wasn’t a good listener. Ace, in fact, was too in his own head to be anything but a bad one. Darlene began her tale and Ace was sufficiently able to do the math: she shot ‘Zona because she had been caught by surprise. Darlene had been with ‘Zona and Jonah a bit throughout the game and had been there when both died. Ace knew that because he knew Michael had killed Jonah and ‘Zona had killed Michael and that’s why she had gotten the—
Fuckin’ ribs?!
So, yeah, that’s why Ace wasn’t that good of a listener. He was far too bewitched by barbecue sauce.
“Wow…,” Beats said in response to Darlene's story and her referencing Abe and Christina, “That’s crazy.”
And that’s what you say to somebody when you aren’t listening to them. That’s what you say to somebody when you aren’t really paying attention.
He didn’t know what to say to Darlene. Everybody had a story at this point and Ace had one for every day of the week. He ripped off a piece of meat—it was tender to the touch but remained firmly on the bone. The mark of a good rib was both a degree of tenderness and a degree of bite. Folks spoke about fall off the bone ribs but what you wanted was a degree of structure and resistance. If ribs were too tender it was a sign of them being overdone. These ribs weren’t the freshest but they weren’t overdone either. Ace loved ribs—they were his favorite BBQ meat. When he last had BBQ he hadn’t splurged for ribs, he had gotten pulled pork instead. The ribs were $16.99 and the pulled pork was $6.99. Seemed like a good deal at the time.
Ace was as bad with money as he was with listening.
Beats took a bite out of the rib and immediately felt himself tear up. The meat was smoky and yet like candy with a great bark and tender melt in your mouth meat. Ace didn’t cry when Meilin died. Beats didn’t shed a tear when he had first became a murderer. The past few days he had cried more about smoked meats and a t-shirt than he had about watching his first girlfriend get stabbed to death. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t really about the shirt or the ribs.
It wasn’t really fair to say that he wasn’t listening to Darlene either.
“Shoot first, ask questions never,” he whispered and wiped his mouth choking down the tender meat, “That ain’t your fault. That’s just the game. That’s just this situation.”
Was he saying that to himself or to Darlene? Ace wanted to win, Ace wanted to go home. There was only one way to do that and there was no way around it in this moment. Kill or be killed. It wasn’t what Ace wanted to do and it wasn’t the choice he wanted to make—but what else was there? One person lives and everybody else dies. Everything was self-defense. It all was justified. It wasn’t personal—but how could it not be? He was a person.
“It’s usually pretty quick,” he tried to take another bite but he couldn’t, “Usually they don’t say nothin’ to you,” he heard Justin’s screams and Connor’s last words as whispers in the wind, “Usually.”
Beats wasn’t a good listener. That was a lie. More of a fib.
“Did she go peaceful? She didn't suffer long...?"
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"I dunno."
All the while Ace talked and ate, Darlene alternated between looking at him and staring at the chunk of meat held close in her fingers. Her throat was so tight she wasn't sure she'd be able to swallow anything, so she took long, deep breaths. She tried not to think about what it meant, any of it. She tried to tell herself what was done was done. She'd already picked up the rib. That meant her fingers were all covered in the sweet, sticky sauce that was wafting its odor over to her nose. She'd never get it all out without licking it off, not unless she used up disinfectant or water, and those were too precious. So she had to eat some of it, so she might as well just eat all of it, right?
A drip of sauce fell and landed in her lap, making a little brown splatter on her skirt over her right leg.
"I mean, it, it was pretty quick," Darlene clarified. "But I dunno if it hurt much."
Talking loosened the tightness that was choking her, and the smell and the texture and the fact that she was just going to spatter some of the very few clothes she had left in barbecue sauce if she didn't hurry up finally convinced her to bring the meat the last few inches to her lips and tear off a bite.
It was soft and tangy and chewy, a sensation that would've been pretty unfamiliar even if the culinary highlight of the last two weeks hadn't been cracker sandwich. Darlene didn't really eat this sort of thing much back home, or not like this at least. Her mom made ribs every couple months with meat she bought at Safeway, but much as Darlene loved her mom, she was willing to admit the woman wasn't perfect, and one of the things she didn't do so well was cook meat dishes. She always made ribs under-seasoned and tough, and that was what Darlene had been expecting because that was just what ribs were to her, and she was caught totally off-guard that this was better.
The first bite she gulped down in a hurry, and then she realized and promised herself she'd slow down. There were only so many opportunities left for pleasant things. She couldn't afford to race through it.
She sniffled.
"She, Arizona, she was tough," Darlene explained. "We talked some but not about if it hurt. She asked me to do something."
As soon as she said that, Darlene tore another big bite off the bone. It was so much flavor it almost hurt. The most her sense of taste had been stimulated for a couple days now was when she drank cloudy lake water that made her stomach rumble, or when she licked her lips and found out she'd been sweating. This was nothing like that. It was intentional, crafted. It was an experience, one most of her classmates would never have ever again. That was why it was a prize, and she wondered why it had still been there in the bag, what Arizona had been saving it for.
She sniffled again, and chewed and chewed, feeling the bits of fat and muscle fiber coming apart between her teeth. Even when the sauce got churned away and diluted with her spit, the whole thing was still delicious. There was some guilt again, because Abe and Christina would've probably liked it too, but who knew? Maybe they were both vegetarians.
Part of why she was chewing so much was to savor the moment, one more good one, but part was so she had a few extra seconds to think also. She liked Ace alright. She trusted him some. She trusted him with her life, at least enough to put her gun away, but she didn't trust him enough for the full details of what precisely she'd done on Arizona's directions. If there was anyone who could go crashing through the thorn bushes and emerge better-equipped, Ace could well be it. Not that he really needed more guns.
Darlene swallowed.
"I took care of it."
She took another bite.
All the while Ace talked and ate, Darlene alternated between looking at him and staring at the chunk of meat held close in her fingers. Her throat was so tight she wasn't sure she'd be able to swallow anything, so she took long, deep breaths. She tried not to think about what it meant, any of it. She tried to tell herself what was done was done. She'd already picked up the rib. That meant her fingers were all covered in the sweet, sticky sauce that was wafting its odor over to her nose. She'd never get it all out without licking it off, not unless she used up disinfectant or water, and those were too precious. So she had to eat some of it, so she might as well just eat all of it, right?
A drip of sauce fell and landed in her lap, making a little brown splatter on her skirt over her right leg.
"I mean, it, it was pretty quick," Darlene clarified. "But I dunno if it hurt much."
Talking loosened the tightness that was choking her, and the smell and the texture and the fact that she was just going to spatter some of the very few clothes she had left in barbecue sauce if she didn't hurry up finally convinced her to bring the meat the last few inches to her lips and tear off a bite.
It was soft and tangy and chewy, a sensation that would've been pretty unfamiliar even if the culinary highlight of the last two weeks hadn't been cracker sandwich. Darlene didn't really eat this sort of thing much back home, or not like this at least. Her mom made ribs every couple months with meat she bought at Safeway, but much as Darlene loved her mom, she was willing to admit the woman wasn't perfect, and one of the things she didn't do so well was cook meat dishes. She always made ribs under-seasoned and tough, and that was what Darlene had been expecting because that was just what ribs were to her, and she was caught totally off-guard that this was better.
The first bite she gulped down in a hurry, and then she realized and promised herself she'd slow down. There were only so many opportunities left for pleasant things. She couldn't afford to race through it.
She sniffled.
"She, Arizona, she was tough," Darlene explained. "We talked some but not about if it hurt. She asked me to do something."
As soon as she said that, Darlene tore another big bite off the bone. It was so much flavor it almost hurt. The most her sense of taste had been stimulated for a couple days now was when she drank cloudy lake water that made her stomach rumble, or when she licked her lips and found out she'd been sweating. This was nothing like that. It was intentional, crafted. It was an experience, one most of her classmates would never have ever again. That was why it was a prize, and she wondered why it had still been there in the bag, what Arizona had been saving it for.
She sniffled again, and chewed and chewed, feeling the bits of fat and muscle fiber coming apart between her teeth. Even when the sauce got churned away and diluted with her spit, the whole thing was still delicious. There was some guilt again, because Abe and Christina would've probably liked it too, but who knew? Maybe they were both vegetarians.
Part of why she was chewing so much was to savor the moment, one more good one, but part was so she had a few extra seconds to think also. She liked Ace alright. She trusted him some. She trusted him with her life, at least enough to put her gun away, but she didn't trust him enough for the full details of what precisely she'd done on Arizona's directions. If there was anyone who could go crashing through the thorn bushes and emerge better-equipped, Ace could well be it. Not that he really needed more guns.
Darlene swallowed.
"I took care of it."
She took another bite.
“That’s good.”
Ace could understand that sentiment if he was reading it correctly. There was a joy that could be derived in duty—or at least a catharsis. There was a focus that came when you heard someone’s final request and then fulfilled it—that’s what he imagined. Ace had been told by Meilin, by Saku and by Connor to make it to the end. Beats had pulled the trigger on one but might as well have killed all three. Was he not doing what he was doing out of an obligation? If he died, what was it all for? They all had died believing in something. They all had died believing in him.
“Respectin’ her wishes gives her a respect that most don’t get.”
Was that how Ace was deciding to take Connor’s last words? Belief in Beats? Ace was just respecting his final wishes?
Denial was a low sin on the Ace totem pole.
“ ‘Zona was a badass, like, just on the court,” he said off-handedly, “I used to joke to Connor that we coulda prolly used her at wide receiver. Chick was a bully on the block. She was a man amongst boys out there.”
Beats took another bite of the rib, then another. He cleaned the bone and threw it in the grass, a healthy distance away from the two of them. Ace reached over to his own bag, gingerly lifted up the gun and unzipped it before grabbing a bottle of water. Ace took a hearty sip and liquid dripped out the sides of his mouth. It was much easier to clean and clear his throat than it was his conscience.
“The situation with him was different,” he offered, “Kinda the same,” Beats looked down at the ribs that were so delicious and tempting, “I wasn’t expectin’ him—he caught me by surprise,” that was true, “I didn’t wanna shoot Connor. I just,” he thought for a moment, “That voice in your head that is s’posed to tell you to stop is too quiet for me.”
Ace wanted to win. Ace wanted to go home.
“Maybe I just don’t wanna hear it.”
Ace could understand that sentiment if he was reading it correctly. There was a joy that could be derived in duty—or at least a catharsis. There was a focus that came when you heard someone’s final request and then fulfilled it—that’s what he imagined. Ace had been told by Meilin, by Saku and by Connor to make it to the end. Beats had pulled the trigger on one but might as well have killed all three. Was he not doing what he was doing out of an obligation? If he died, what was it all for? They all had died believing in something. They all had died believing in him.
“Respectin’ her wishes gives her a respect that most don’t get.”
Was that how Ace was deciding to take Connor’s last words? Belief in Beats? Ace was just respecting his final wishes?
Denial was a low sin on the Ace totem pole.
“ ‘Zona was a badass, like, just on the court,” he said off-handedly, “I used to joke to Connor that we coulda prolly used her at wide receiver. Chick was a bully on the block. She was a man amongst boys out there.”
Beats took another bite of the rib, then another. He cleaned the bone and threw it in the grass, a healthy distance away from the two of them. Ace reached over to his own bag, gingerly lifted up the gun and unzipped it before grabbing a bottle of water. Ace took a hearty sip and liquid dripped out the sides of his mouth. It was much easier to clean and clear his throat than it was his conscience.
“The situation with him was different,” he offered, “Kinda the same,” Beats looked down at the ribs that were so delicious and tempting, “I wasn’t expectin’ him—he caught me by surprise,” that was true, “I didn’t wanna shoot Connor. I just,” he thought for a moment, “That voice in your head that is s’posed to tell you to stop is too quiet for me.”
Ace wanted to win. Ace wanted to go home.
“Maybe I just don’t wanna hear it.”
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Darlene chewed and considered. Even before Ace said the name, she had an idea who he was talking about. Just as much of an idea as she did after, as a matter of fact; she didn't really know who Connor was—had been. Maybe she would've recognized him if he was here sharing their picnic. Maybe not. She didn't keep the names of the football guys very straight. Ace was easy at least, because his name was different and cool. There was only one Ace she'd ever heard of. Anyone could've been a Connor.
"I think I, maybe," she started, at first talking around a mouthful of food and then pausing to swallow and reconsider. Was she about to say something with any meaning? Was it even true?
It was. She wasn't sure if that made it a better or a worse idea to let it out, but she'd started and she was going to keep going. It was something she hadn't really gotten to talk about with Abe or Christina, or even with Jonah or Max. She hadn't needed to, back then. She wouldn't have been able to, especially with those last two. It would've been too weird.
"For me, it's, it's other people," she said. "If it was just me, I'd... I don't know. I don't know what I would've done, but I met Jonah and Max at the start and they helped me when I was scared, so when I don't know, I try to think what would they do."
Probably not shoot Arizona, for one. Probably not shoot much in general, really, but that was the thing, wasn't it? It was just like Ace said: sometimes you didn't want to hear the voice telling you to stop. Sometimes, when things were scary and other people were shooting too, it was just too loud to make anything out.
Darlene pulled off another bite and made herself stop thinking for a few moments and just be and taste. The air was still so humid, and her clothes clung to her almost like she'd worn them into the shower. The clatter and cry of insects was nearly as oppressive as the weather, masking sounds from further off or maybe just crushing down on Darlene because she needed something to surround her with the mood she was in and bugs was all there was. Distantly, a bright red bird surged into motion, flying from one branch to another, and Darlene smiled at that. There were still some around after all.
"Do you think..."
Darlene paused, her eye caught by movement down on the wax paper. A little ant was marching across it. For a moment she thought about smooshing it, but it didn't seem right, so she pulled the last scraps of meat off the bone with her teeth and then stuck the bone in the ant's path, and sure enough it began to climb over the newfound obstacle. As soon as all of its legs were on the bone, Darlene chucked it off to the side, the same direction Ace had thrown his.
She scratched at a little itch on her eyebrow, then frowned when she lowered her hand and saw barbecue sauce all over her fingertips still. Her face felt suddenly even stickier.
"Do you think anyone wants to?" she asked.
"I think I, maybe," she started, at first talking around a mouthful of food and then pausing to swallow and reconsider. Was she about to say something with any meaning? Was it even true?
It was. She wasn't sure if that made it a better or a worse idea to let it out, but she'd started and she was going to keep going. It was something she hadn't really gotten to talk about with Abe or Christina, or even with Jonah or Max. She hadn't needed to, back then. She wouldn't have been able to, especially with those last two. It would've been too weird.
"For me, it's, it's other people," she said. "If it was just me, I'd... I don't know. I don't know what I would've done, but I met Jonah and Max at the start and they helped me when I was scared, so when I don't know, I try to think what would they do."
Probably not shoot Arizona, for one. Probably not shoot much in general, really, but that was the thing, wasn't it? It was just like Ace said: sometimes you didn't want to hear the voice telling you to stop. Sometimes, when things were scary and other people were shooting too, it was just too loud to make anything out.
Darlene pulled off another bite and made herself stop thinking for a few moments and just be and taste. The air was still so humid, and her clothes clung to her almost like she'd worn them into the shower. The clatter and cry of insects was nearly as oppressive as the weather, masking sounds from further off or maybe just crushing down on Darlene because she needed something to surround her with the mood she was in and bugs was all there was. Distantly, a bright red bird surged into motion, flying from one branch to another, and Darlene smiled at that. There were still some around after all.
"Do you think..."
Darlene paused, her eye caught by movement down on the wax paper. A little ant was marching across it. For a moment she thought about smooshing it, but it didn't seem right, so she pulled the last scraps of meat off the bone with her teeth and then stuck the bone in the ant's path, and sure enough it began to climb over the newfound obstacle. As soon as all of its legs were on the bone, Darlene chucked it off to the side, the same direction Ace had thrown his.
She scratched at a little itch on her eyebrow, then frowned when she lowered her hand and saw barbecue sauce all over her fingertips still. Her face felt suddenly even stickier.
"Do you think anyone wants to?" she asked.
“I think it stopped bein’ ‘bout want a long time ago. I think we all just do what we gotta.”
Ace took another sip of water and thought about what that really meant.
“When I ran,” he referenced the lake, “I didn’t wanna see her die. I’d seen,” Beats thought of Ivy and Mei, “I seen too many people die," Ace swallowed his pride, "I liked her, y’know? Like, not in a complicated way, but a simple way,” was it that simple? Ace shook his head, “She ain't even the only one I've felt that for. It wasn't simple. Things ain’t ever simple.”
They couldn’t be. They wouldn't be. Beats placed the water down and grabbed another rib before taking a large bite, chewing loudly trying not to choke back hot tears. Sauce was on his lips as much as blood was on his hands and tears stained his cheeks. The black canvas shoes that he had gotten from the tree weren’t his own and it felt very much strange to walk in them. He couldn't do what Darlene was suggesting. How could Ace walk in Saku’s shoes? In Ivy’s or Connor's or Meilin’s or Aliya’s or Ramsey’s or Wyatt’s or anybody else he had lost? They were all braver than him, stronger than him, more loyal and noble than him—and they all had died. There was no love in this game--it didn’t love you back. Ace had made it this far just as much due to his cruelty as he had his compassion. Beats’ cruelty was making more and more frequent appearances. There was little to be done, he had no choice but to see this through to the end. Whatever that meant.
“I shouldn’t’ve ran,” he finally said through a swallow, “I was just scared,” he choked down tears and pork, “I was there when Justin killed her anyway. It didn’t even matter.”
He sighed.
“I ran away for nuthin’. Same with Mei.”
Ace took another sip of water and thought about what that really meant.
“When I ran,” he referenced the lake, “I didn’t wanna see her die. I’d seen,” Beats thought of Ivy and Mei, “I seen too many people die," Ace swallowed his pride, "I liked her, y’know? Like, not in a complicated way, but a simple way,” was it that simple? Ace shook his head, “She ain't even the only one I've felt that for. It wasn't simple. Things ain’t ever simple.”
They couldn’t be. They wouldn't be. Beats placed the water down and grabbed another rib before taking a large bite, chewing loudly trying not to choke back hot tears. Sauce was on his lips as much as blood was on his hands and tears stained his cheeks. The black canvas shoes that he had gotten from the tree weren’t his own and it felt very much strange to walk in them. He couldn't do what Darlene was suggesting. How could Ace walk in Saku’s shoes? In Ivy’s or Connor's or Meilin’s or Aliya’s or Ramsey’s or Wyatt’s or anybody else he had lost? They were all braver than him, stronger than him, more loyal and noble than him—and they all had died. There was no love in this game--it didn’t love you back. Ace had made it this far just as much due to his cruelty as he had his compassion. Beats’ cruelty was making more and more frequent appearances. There was little to be done, he had no choice but to see this through to the end. Whatever that meant.
“I shouldn’t’ve ran,” he finally said through a swallow, “I was just scared,” he choked down tears and pork, “I was there when Justin killed her anyway. It didn’t even matter.”
He sighed.
“I ran away for nuthin’. Same with Mei.”
“It ain’t for nuthin’ Darlene,” he took another bite of the rib and tugged cleaning it to bone and speaking with a mouthful, “This whole thing,” he waved the bone in a circle, “It can’t just be like, y’know,” he didn’t know what he was saying, "Like," still struggling, "C'mon," not quite, “Y’know?”Aliya wrote: You made a mistake, but you can't let it destroy you. You can't let their death be meaningless.
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Darlene chewed on meat from a new rib, while she listened to Ace. It was a little strange, being on the other side of this sort of speech. Most times, Darlene struggled so hard to get her thoughts into an orderly fashion that sounded even sort of intelligent, while other people were just able to cleanly express themselves like it was nothing. It was because she thought too much, her mom had once said, and also because she wasn't practiced enough. Whatever the reason, a lot of the time Darlene worked around it by just not saying a whole lot. She learned more listening anyways, and in her head she was just as much a part of lunch table conversations as anyone else, thinking about the points people made, following the topics, agreeing and disagreeing without ever opening her mouth for more than another bite of sandwich.
So as Ace stumbled his way through something between an assertion and a plea, Darlene found that she got it. She really did know.
"Yeah," She said. She nodded and swallowed and took another bite, chewed as she put the words together in her head with more care than she just about ever used. So often, she'd found herself fumbling like Ace and someone like Jonah or Arizona or Max had something really wise to say to make things more clear. So often, she'd wanted to help and all she could do was lean on somebody and hum. But now she thought she could maybe be something else, something more, just for this instant.
"It's not for nothing," she said. "It never has been and it, it won't be, either, if we don't let it."
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was just the food talking, confidence born from a tiny piece of the real world, the first she'd seen in days. Maybe she was just telling Ace what she wanted to hear because there wasn't anybody left to say it to her.
"At the, the very start," she continued, "I was scared and I thought it might be nicer to just... give up. I didn't, because I was even more scared of that. And, and I'm still scared, and I... I don't know, I might still give up."
She was looking at her feet now, talking to them almost, and that wasn't right. That wasn't how Jonah would've said this, or Arizona, and she paused just long enough to take a deep breath and then turn and look at Ace directly. She wondered for only a moment if she really did have barbecue sauce on her forehead.
"But, I met these, these people. Jonah and Max and Arizona and Abe and Sakurako and, and you, and a bunch of others, people I never would've really talked to at school. And I saw so much, and learned so much, that I never would've otherwise."
She wiped above her eye with the back of her wrist, just in case.
"If I could, um, if I could not be here, and make it never happen, of course I would. But since we have to be here, I'm glad with how it's gone. I'm glad I've had friends. It's better than it would've been alone. So that means it's not nothing."
She looked back at her feet and set about cleaning the meat off the bone.
So as Ace stumbled his way through something between an assertion and a plea, Darlene found that she got it. She really did know.
"Yeah," She said. She nodded and swallowed and took another bite, chewed as she put the words together in her head with more care than she just about ever used. So often, she'd found herself fumbling like Ace and someone like Jonah or Arizona or Max had something really wise to say to make things more clear. So often, she'd wanted to help and all she could do was lean on somebody and hum. But now she thought she could maybe be something else, something more, just for this instant.
"It's not for nothing," she said. "It never has been and it, it won't be, either, if we don't let it."
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was just the food talking, confidence born from a tiny piece of the real world, the first she'd seen in days. Maybe she was just telling Ace what she wanted to hear because there wasn't anybody left to say it to her.
"At the, the very start," she continued, "I was scared and I thought it might be nicer to just... give up. I didn't, because I was even more scared of that. And, and I'm still scared, and I... I don't know, I might still give up."
She was looking at her feet now, talking to them almost, and that wasn't right. That wasn't how Jonah would've said this, or Arizona, and she paused just long enough to take a deep breath and then turn and look at Ace directly. She wondered for only a moment if she really did have barbecue sauce on her forehead.
"But, I met these, these people. Jonah and Max and Arizona and Abe and Sakurako and, and you, and a bunch of others, people I never would've really talked to at school. And I saw so much, and learned so much, that I never would've otherwise."
She wiped above her eye with the back of her wrist, just in case.
"If I could, um, if I could not be here, and make it never happen, of course I would. But since we have to be here, I'm glad with how it's gone. I'm glad I've had friends. It's better than it would've been alone. So that means it's not nothing."
She looked back at her feet and set about cleaning the meat off the bone.
Ace wasn’t a good listener and Darlene wasn’t a particularly powerful or inspiring speaker. Beats still found himself listening anyway. And it was a moving sentiment, it really was. It tugged on his heart strings, it really did. She was stronger and smarter than her stature or demeanor indicated. And he understood what Darlene was saying and he wished he could make it true. Beats wished that his silver lining wasn’t covered in grime. Beats hadn’t been alone out here. Ace had had friends. More than a few. More than friends.
“Maybe you’re right...”
Ace had betrayed all of them in countless ways.
“Maybe you’re wrong...”
Beats had cheated on Meilin. He never bothered to try and find Ramsey. He took Angie’s gun and left her with nothing. Beats killed Parker just for being next to Blaise. Ace let Aliya run off and face Justin unarmed. Beats popped off on Myles and dared him to shoot and got Ivy killed in the process. Ace shot Lori dead when the blow to the head was more than enough. Ace killed Connor just because he was there. Beats beat Justin down even as he cried for help. It would've been better for Ace to have been alone. There was no love in this game, it didn't love you back. You know what friends did on SOTF? They died. Beats understood what Darlene was saying--Ace wished that he could make it true. It was too late for that. At least for him. There was only one way out and that was to get out. There would be no honor or repenting on this island. That's not what it was made for--that wasn't who Ace was.
“I dunno.”
He tossed the bone to the pile and took another sip of the water.
“You gotta plan Darlene?”
‘You got one better than mine?’
“Maybe you’re right...”
Ace had betrayed all of them in countless ways.
“Maybe you’re wrong...”
Beats had cheated on Meilin. He never bothered to try and find Ramsey. He took Angie’s gun and left her with nothing. Beats killed Parker just for being next to Blaise. Ace let Aliya run off and face Justin unarmed. Beats popped off on Myles and dared him to shoot and got Ivy killed in the process. Ace shot Lori dead when the blow to the head was more than enough. Ace killed Connor just because he was there. Beats beat Justin down even as he cried for help. It would've been better for Ace to have been alone. There was no love in this game, it didn't love you back. You know what friends did on SOTF? They died. Beats understood what Darlene was saying--Ace wished that he could make it true. It was too late for that. At least for him. There was only one way out and that was to get out. There would be no honor or repenting on this island. That's not what it was made for--that wasn't who Ace was.
“I dunno.”
He tossed the bone to the pile and took another sip of the water.
“You gotta plan Darlene?”
‘You got one better than mine?’
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Not really."
Darlene said it quietly, like she was admitting something. This in theory made it harder to tell that she was lying.
It wasn't a big lie, or a malicious one. She wasn't hiding that she was planning to shoot Ace when he eventually left. She wasn't concealing that she'd been following some grand strategic course of action this entire time, twisting others to her own ends. Darlene had barely known what she was doing even at her better moments. The closest she'd come to real actual plans were when she decided they would find Jonah and then they'd gone to the cave and everything had fallen apart, and then when she tricked Amelia into the bush, which had come out okay if perhaps in retrospect not strictly necessary. No, this was the sort of lie like when she told her mom the ribs from Safeway were really tasty. It made people feel better, and besides she'd kind of touched on what few loose ideas she had in passing a few moments ago and if it even came to fruition was entirely out of her hands, so it didn't really actually count as a plan anyways. She was almost telling the truth.
Tossing her bone away, Darlene spent a few seconds sticking her fingers in her mouth and trying to lick the sauce off. She became aware pretty quickly her hands were also dirty and sweaty, but they still tasted better than most anything else she'd had in days, bar the meat itself. Her nails were getting kind of long, she realized. Darlene had never been a nail-biter, but she hadn't been much of a nail-painter either. She usually kept them short and neat.
"I guess, uh, I was thinking maybe I should get back to Abe and Christina before too long, if, if they're still there and all," she said. This was easier now because it was the truth. "They don't like each other too much and I don't know, I don't want them to fight."
She meant mostly on a metaphorical social level, but now that the words had slipped out it was easy to imagine things turning worse in more lethal ways. Christina had been eyeing Abe's weapons the whole time, but also Darlene was pretty sure Abe was extra vigilant and could get the upper hand. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Once again, if she was going to wish, might as well wish they truly buried the hatchet.
"I've been gone a while though so it's not a hurry, though," Darlene said, so Ace wouldn't think she was trying to ditch him or rush him. She knew well how important little simple moments could be, especially when any span of peace could easily be the last one ever. Time and again, she thought that was going to be the case, that she'd used up the last of her allotment of semi-decent experiences, and then something like this would happen.
There were two ribs left on the paper. Darlene broke one off, making her fingers messy all over again, and nodded to Ace and the last.
"You could come with and see them if you want," she said, but mostly just because it was polite.
She wasn't quite sure why, but she had an idea that Ace wasn't going to go for it.
Darlene said it quietly, like she was admitting something. This in theory made it harder to tell that she was lying.
It wasn't a big lie, or a malicious one. She wasn't hiding that she was planning to shoot Ace when he eventually left. She wasn't concealing that she'd been following some grand strategic course of action this entire time, twisting others to her own ends. Darlene had barely known what she was doing even at her better moments. The closest she'd come to real actual plans were when she decided they would find Jonah and then they'd gone to the cave and everything had fallen apart, and then when she tricked Amelia into the bush, which had come out okay if perhaps in retrospect not strictly necessary. No, this was the sort of lie like when she told her mom the ribs from Safeway were really tasty. It made people feel better, and besides she'd kind of touched on what few loose ideas she had in passing a few moments ago and if it even came to fruition was entirely out of her hands, so it didn't really actually count as a plan anyways. She was almost telling the truth.
Tossing her bone away, Darlene spent a few seconds sticking her fingers in her mouth and trying to lick the sauce off. She became aware pretty quickly her hands were also dirty and sweaty, but they still tasted better than most anything else she'd had in days, bar the meat itself. Her nails were getting kind of long, she realized. Darlene had never been a nail-biter, but she hadn't been much of a nail-painter either. She usually kept them short and neat.
"I guess, uh, I was thinking maybe I should get back to Abe and Christina before too long, if, if they're still there and all," she said. This was easier now because it was the truth. "They don't like each other too much and I don't know, I don't want them to fight."
She meant mostly on a metaphorical social level, but now that the words had slipped out it was easy to imagine things turning worse in more lethal ways. Christina had been eyeing Abe's weapons the whole time, but also Darlene was pretty sure Abe was extra vigilant and could get the upper hand. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Once again, if she was going to wish, might as well wish they truly buried the hatchet.
"I've been gone a while though so it's not a hurry, though," Darlene said, so Ace wouldn't think she was trying to ditch him or rush him. She knew well how important little simple moments could be, especially when any span of peace could easily be the last one ever. Time and again, she thought that was going to be the case, that she'd used up the last of her allotment of semi-decent experiences, and then something like this would happen.
There were two ribs left on the paper. Darlene broke one off, making her fingers messy all over again, and nodded to Ace and the last.
"You could come with and see them if you want," she said, but mostly just because it was polite.
She wasn't quite sure why, but she had an idea that Ace wasn't going to go for it.