Irene felt strong hands on her shoulders, strong hands pulling her away from Bunny, and there it was, the fighting instinct, telling her to bite and claw her way to survival and twist her way out and then--
It happened. Irene couldn't believe it.
Well, she'd believed something like this would happen, because she had to have believed in something like this happening to even charge in the first place, but there'd always been that bit of skepticism inside her, the sinking suspicion that she was only doing the stuff that she was doing because she might as well try.
But there it was. The gun on the ground. Her chance.
Yeah. She'll have her fun.
They dived for the gun, all three of them, quite literally. Irene was closest, her fingers just inches away from the shooty end, and she grabbed it, dived on top of it, like she was protecting the rest of them from a live grenade. Irony totally intended, because fuck it, why not? It made her laugh. Or it would've, if she had a moment to catch her breath. They were trying to pin her down, keep her from getting up and getting into a position to use the gun, and they were also trying to grab the gun from her, and it was all very chaotic and stuff, but fuck that was okay. That was fine. Irene knew what she was about. She wasn't about to let them have their cake and eat it too.
Only Irene gets to do that.
Irene pulled the trigger, heard the explosive rattle of hot lead, grazed someone's leg or foot or something. It didn't matter which body part, what person. What mattered was that it got one person off. Irene gripped the gun, hugged it tightly, really, and flipped herself over, knocked herself free of the person still clinging to her from behind. She stood up.
She blinked.
The person in front of her, bleeding from the calf, was Bunny. The person getting to his feet behind her was Johnny. Irene slowly unfolded her arms from around the gun, gripped it properly, pointed it, trembling, at Bunny.
So this is how it goes, right? Bunny's vanquished, the whole island breathes a collective sigh of relief, and Irene gets to die in peace or chill around the island or do whatever else it is she wants to do until the jig is up and she has to die or go home. Almost there now. It was surreal, really. Just don't mess this up.
Fuck, why was the sun so bright? Irene was hot and cold, shivering and sweating. She wasn't sure she could even make a shot at point-blank range, even with things so silent and still.
It felt wrong that she'd never met Bunny on the island before today.
No no no, now was the wrong time to think about this, but she had to, because she was already getting doubts. Bunny wasn't Irene's jailer. Bunny had never done anything to Irene. Until, like, today, but funnily enough Irene barely cared about that. And besides, heroes never kill the big bad. You have to take the high road, Irene. Not because taking the high road actually mattered. Not because the heroic ideals you're pretending to embody and enforce actually matter to anyone. But because it felt better to take the high road.
Irene slowly turned, and she pointed the gun at Johnny.
Because she could.
Because she wanted to.
Because if she wanted to, then, well, at the end of the day, why not?
Though Far Away, We're Still the Same
Private: 2 PM, Day 7 / mara i'm still mad you didn't get the lyric right - yugi
Johnny growled as Irene grabbed the weapon from him again, as she took his chance again. He landed on top of her legs, trying to keep her from moving, but before he could do anything else, there was a flash and a bang.
He closed his eyes.
He opened them again.
Things hurt, still. The air was ringing, now, and everything beyond that sounded dull, almost non-existent. Things had been hurting for a while. But, it didn't feel any worse. No burning, no piercing, just dull throbbing everywhere. He opened his eyes, and Bunny was bleeding.
He got off of Irene.
Johnny wanted to make things right, that was all he wanted right now. And while he'd intended for it to go a different way, if this was how it went, with Irene shooting Bunny, he could live with that. Let her have it. Bunny had her share of sins too, she deserved to pay a little.
He hadn't ever seen anyone die, actually. He'd heard of it, maybe heard the bullets from afar. He'd seen the aftermath. But he'd never seen the transition. He'd never seen light go out of people's eyes, chests stop rising. He'd been lucky enough to avoid it. Would it change anything? Would it change him any more, after everything?
He didn't get to find out right then.
He could see into the barrel.
"NO!"
Johnny scrambled towards Irene, pushed into her. The gun fired.
He closed his eyes.
He opened them again.
Things hurt, still. The air was ringing, now, and everything beyond that sounded dull, almost non-existent. Things had been hurting for a while. But, it didn't feel any worse. No burning, no piercing, just dull throbbing everywhere. He opened his eyes, and Bunny was bleeding.
He got off of Irene.
Johnny wanted to make things right, that was all he wanted right now. And while he'd intended for it to go a different way, if this was how it went, with Irene shooting Bunny, he could live with that. Let her have it. Bunny had her share of sins too, she deserved to pay a little.
He hadn't ever seen anyone die, actually. He'd heard of it, maybe heard the bullets from afar. He'd seen the aftermath. But he'd never seen the transition. He'd never seen light go out of people's eyes, chests stop rising. He'd been lucky enough to avoid it. Would it change anything? Would it change him any more, after everything?
He didn't get to find out right then.
He could see into the barrel.
"NO!"
Johnny scrambled towards Irene, pushed into her. The gun fired.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
-
delicateMachine
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: void
There were, like, a lot of gunshots. Even though they went high, not hurting anyone except an unlucky seagull maybe, Daniel flinched violently enough that he actually fumbled with his gun for a second. He didn't drop it, which was good, because if he dropped the gun that meant he wasn't intimidating anymore, and everyone was clearly paying close attention to him, right? Hanging on his every word, not missing a movement? That's why they were all still trying to kill each other, right?
"I'll, uh, I'll do it, alright? I'll shoot, you hear me? This is your last warning, stop being idiots and stop fucking fighting!"
Excuse the profanity. In fact, consider it pre-excused, because no one stopped, which meant no one was listening. He thought maybe if he did something highly uncharacteristic, like swearing, that'd be jarring enough to show everyone the high-stakes circumstances they were in, so they could all stop and laugh and take a look at each other and go, like, 'how did we get here? That was a total cuss.'
Just one shot this time. He flinched less this time. He saw blood, and once he saw the blood he stopped looking for whose blood it was because the stress was joined by its old buddy nausea and he could barely see straight, let alone pretend to aim. Maybe he should just, like, shoot at the sky and then have a nice lie down. Not like his presence was contributing anything. God he was gonna puke.
Another shot. Maybe he should of been looking, because the gun had been pointed at Johnny, and he, like, cared about Johnny. Also, he was standing roughly in a line behind Johnny, so, like... when a gun is aimed at someone, and you're like, behind them but offset? And then the gun gets knocked around a bit so it doesn't shoot straight? It shoots slightly past the person it was aiming at, like to the side a bit? Where someone is standing? To the side? Like, behind them and to the side? You know, where the gun was aiming, because it got knocked around a bit? Like, instead of aiming at Johnny, it ended up aiming elsewhere? And other people exist in the places Johnny doesn't? And like, when you shoot at a place that Johnny isn't, that means you shoot at a place that other people might exist in? You know, right? Like, that's a pretty easy concept to grasp? Like, it wasn't exactly out of the realm of possibility this would happen? Like, maybe it was something to think about when you're in a situation with guns and lines and places and people and people who exist in those places who have guns that point in lines?
hahahahahahaha yeah daniel just got shot in the gut or the chest or something and it hurt a whole bunch
what else was new??????????
that was new! this was new! he wasn't even sad or tired it just hurt rhtuh ruth ruth ruhtuh ruthurhtrt
ow
he toppled over, like a lot of mythological tall guys have in the past
"I'll, uh, I'll do it, alright? I'll shoot, you hear me? This is your last warning, stop being idiots and stop fucking fighting!"
Excuse the profanity. In fact, consider it pre-excused, because no one stopped, which meant no one was listening. He thought maybe if he did something highly uncharacteristic, like swearing, that'd be jarring enough to show everyone the high-stakes circumstances they were in, so they could all stop and laugh and take a look at each other and go, like, 'how did we get here? That was a total cuss.'
Just one shot this time. He flinched less this time. He saw blood, and once he saw the blood he stopped looking for whose blood it was because the stress was joined by its old buddy nausea and he could barely see straight, let alone pretend to aim. Maybe he should just, like, shoot at the sky and then have a nice lie down. Not like his presence was contributing anything. God he was gonna puke.
Another shot. Maybe he should of been looking, because the gun had been pointed at Johnny, and he, like, cared about Johnny. Also, he was standing roughly in a line behind Johnny, so, like... when a gun is aimed at someone, and you're like, behind them but offset? And then the gun gets knocked around a bit so it doesn't shoot straight? It shoots slightly past the person it was aiming at, like to the side a bit? Where someone is standing? To the side? Like, behind them and to the side? You know, where the gun was aiming, because it got knocked around a bit? Like, instead of aiming at Johnny, it ended up aiming elsewhere? And other people exist in the places Johnny doesn't? And like, when you shoot at a place that Johnny isn't, that means you shoot at a place that other people might exist in? You know, right? Like, that's a pretty easy concept to grasp? Like, it wasn't exactly out of the realm of possibility this would happen? Like, maybe it was something to think about when you're in a situation with guns and lines and places and people and people who exist in those places who have guns that point in lines?
hahahahahahaha yeah daniel just got shot in the gut or the chest or something and it hurt a whole bunch
what else was new??????????
that was new! this was new! he wasn't even sad or tired it just hurt rhtuh ruth ruth ruhtuh ruthurhtrt
ow
he toppled over, like a lot of mythological tall guys have in the past
It had fired right next to Johnny's right ear. His eardrum burst. He couldn't hear anything on his right side, now, muffles on his left side. Non-stop ringing.
Time stopped for a bit. Irene had stopped, for some reason. Why was she stopping? Why weren't they fighting?
She was looking past Johnny.
oh god
He turned his focus from Irene. Swiveled his head, slowly. He had to look. He couldn't look. Why was she looking there? Daniel was there. She didn't care about Daniel, she cared about Johnny. Why was she looking there? She shouldn't be looking there. She wasn't allowed to. Why was
A half-gasp, half-scream erupted from his throat. He covered his mouth with both hands. He screamed through them.
"NO! DANIEL!"
Johnny rushed to him.
Time stopped for a bit. Irene had stopped, for some reason. Why was she stopping? Why weren't they fighting?
She was looking past Johnny.
oh god
He turned his focus from Irene. Swiveled his head, slowly. He had to look. He couldn't look. Why was she looking there? Daniel was there. She didn't care about Daniel, she cared about Johnny. Why was she looking there? She shouldn't be looking there. She wasn't allowed to. Why was
A half-gasp, half-scream erupted from his throat. He covered his mouth with both hands. He screamed through them.
"NO! DANIEL!"
Johnny rushed to him.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
-
delicateMachine
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: void
Oh, so that's what it took to get people to pay attention? Huh? Haha wow that sounded ridiculously petty and dramatic, but like, he'd just been shot so he kinda felt like that was his right? It hurt a bunch but like, maybe if he just pretended he was thinking 'ow' every three words or so he wouldn't actually have to do it, because that sounded like it would get old pretty quickly?
Johnny was there now, and that was nice. "Think I just got shot, dude," he said, but a whole lot less intelligibly. Good thing it was readily apparent. The meaning wouldn't get lost. True art speaks for itself. The curtains were blue because the author liked the color blue. His blood was red because - oh no that was his blood, wasn't it? It wasn't supposed to be outside his body. Or on the ground. Well, he wasn't supposed to be on the ground either, but there he was, in the dirt. Now his blood got to become one with the dirt too. Guess it was only fair.
Johnny was there now, and that was nice. "Think I just got shot, dude," he said, but a whole lot less intelligibly. Good thing it was readily apparent. The meaning wouldn't get lost. True art speaks for itself. The curtains were blue because the author liked the color blue. His blood was red because - oh no that was his blood, wasn't it? It wasn't supposed to be outside his body. Or on the ground. Well, he wasn't supposed to be on the ground either, but there he was, in the dirt. Now his blood got to become one with the dirt too. Guess it was only fair.
Johnny fell, and there was so much more blood up close, and had it just looked like it was a little blood from far away, or had a sea been spilled in the time it took him to get there? Why was there so much?
He didn't know a thing about first aid, he hadn't paid attention to his first aid classes, and why didn't he do that why couldn't he be useful
Johnny rummaged through the bag, throwing out wrappers and clothes and water bottles until he found the first-aid kit, and he pulled out a half-used roll of bandages, tore out frayed strips of gauze, and tried placing them on his torso, tried to stop the blood, but where was the wound, his shirt was soaked with blood, the wound could be anywhere, why wouldn't it stop bleeding no matter where he put the bandage there was so much blood and humans only had so little blood and when boats leaked you just put a hand or tape over the hole and it would be fine it would stop leaking why didn't bodies work the same way and
"Nonononono," he sobbed through tears, "I- why didn't you just leave, why did you have to- I'm so sorry, Daniel, oh my god oh my god no"
He didn't know a thing about first aid, he hadn't paid attention to his first aid classes, and why didn't he do that why couldn't he be useful
Johnny rummaged through the bag, throwing out wrappers and clothes and water bottles until he found the first-aid kit, and he pulled out a half-used roll of bandages, tore out frayed strips of gauze, and tried placing them on his torso, tried to stop the blood, but where was the wound, his shirt was soaked with blood, the wound could be anywhere, why wouldn't it stop bleeding no matter where he put the bandage there was so much blood and humans only had so little blood and when boats leaked you just put a hand or tape over the hole and it would be fine it would stop leaking why didn't bodies work the same way and
"Nonononono," he sobbed through tears, "I- why didn't you just leave, why did you have to- I'm so sorry, Daniel, oh my god oh my god no"
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
-
delicateMachine
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: void
Johnny was trying. Probably trying harder than Daniel had ever tried at like, anything on the island. That was worth something, right? Like, there was some sorta sublime inherent value to that? Earning points for the afterlife? No, that was prescribing an ulterior motive, and that was just plain rude. Johnny was noble, that's that. Maybe he was even trying and succeeding. Like, he couldn't feel anything anymore, really, so that was probably a bad sign? But he didn't know enough about signs to say for sure? Which probably meant it was a bad sign, because, semiotics, and like, the entire purpose of signs? Boy, he wasn't sure of anything anymore, was he?
"Why would I have left? You were still here?" he mumbled, genuinely confused, because Johnny was trying, and why would Daniel ever leave someone who, like, tried? And cared about him? Yeah, he'd been doing some pretty messed up stuff, but for some reason it didn't seem to matter anymore, because he was here. It wasn't wrong to be selfish for a while, right? Like, getting shot gave him that right? Hopefully Rachael wasn't judging from the sidelines. He hoped she wasn't watching at all, because he'd been spared from having to see, like, any of her suffering, and it wouldn't be fair to inflict that on her, right, even with the best hot chocolate in the world to look forward to afterwards. Hot chocolate can't solve every trauma. Probably.
It occurred to him that maybe he should be trying to think about things that actually mattered, but, like, he didn't.
"Why would I have left? You were still here?" he mumbled, genuinely confused, because Johnny was trying, and why would Daniel ever leave someone who, like, tried? And cared about him? Yeah, he'd been doing some pretty messed up stuff, but for some reason it didn't seem to matter anymore, because he was here. It wasn't wrong to be selfish for a while, right? Like, getting shot gave him that right? Hopefully Rachael wasn't judging from the sidelines. He hoped she wasn't watching at all, because he'd been spared from having to see, like, any of her suffering, and it wouldn't be fair to inflict that on her, right, even with the best hot chocolate in the world to look forward to afterwards. Hot chocolate can't solve every trauma. Probably.
It occurred to him that maybe he should be trying to think about things that actually mattered, but, like, he didn't.
Daniel's voice was so weak now and he could barely hear it and it was ringing everywhere and all he wanted to hear was his voice his full loud voice why couldn't he even have Daniel's words, if not anything else, why couldn't he be granted that? And why was he still bleeding he was trying so hard and it was still going everywhere why why
"I- I know, but why did you- you weren't even doing anything, why did you get hurt- why? I'm so sorry, I'm so-"
And he hadn't been doing anything.
Johnny stopped.
Daniel hadn't been doing anything.
And Irene shot him anyways.
It wasn't enough she take Roy. She had to take Daniel as well.
His vision grew dark. He stood up slowly, turned towards Irene.
She was turned away from them. Not even looking at what she'd done.
He started gaining speed.
"You fucking bitch!"
He jumped on top of Irene.
"I- I know, but why did you- you weren't even doing anything, why did you get hurt- why? I'm so sorry, I'm so-"
And he hadn't been doing anything.
Johnny stopped.
Daniel hadn't been doing anything.
And Irene shot him anyways.
It wasn't enough she take Roy. She had to take Daniel as well.
His vision grew dark. He stood up slowly, turned towards Irene.
She was turned away from them. Not even looking at what she'd done.
He started gaining speed.
"You fucking bitch!"
He jumped on top of Irene.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Irene's brain froze.
No. No no no. It wasn't her--it couldn't--it hadn't been--
Ah, but it was her fault, wasn't it? Yeah, she hadn't known Daniel was behind Johnny. Yeah, she couldn't have realized that Johnny would push her arm, she couldn't have realized that his push would make her shoot in just the right place to hit Daniel. So many things--but that didn't matter. It was her fault. It wasn't fair that it was her fault, but it was her fault.
Bunny was gone, disappeared somewhere. Irene supposed that she should hunt her down to...fuck, she doesn't know. Make amends, or something. Amends to someone. Not Daniel. Johnny maybe. But does Johnny care? Fuck, Irene just needed to do something. Something to take her mind off of what she had done. Fuck. She'd really done that.
And then she heard Johnny's screams, heard him barreling towards her, and she relaxed. She'll give him his satisfaction. It was the least she could do.
And, well. Maybe in the process she'll get what she deserves? Question mark??? And, if she does, then. Well. There was satisfaction in that. Maybe. Hopefully.
Irene felt Johnny impact her from behind, felt the gun slip from her hand, felt her face hitting the ground, tasted dirt. It hurt. She whimpered a little.
Okay. She could do this. She could bear this out.
Just let it end. Let it end already.
No. No no no. It wasn't her--it couldn't--it hadn't been--
Ah, but it was her fault, wasn't it? Yeah, she hadn't known Daniel was behind Johnny. Yeah, she couldn't have realized that Johnny would push her arm, she couldn't have realized that his push would make her shoot in just the right place to hit Daniel. So many things--but that didn't matter. It was her fault. It wasn't fair that it was her fault, but it was her fault.
Bunny was gone, disappeared somewhere. Irene supposed that she should hunt her down to...fuck, she doesn't know. Make amends, or something. Amends to someone. Not Daniel. Johnny maybe. But does Johnny care? Fuck, Irene just needed to do something. Something to take her mind off of what she had done. Fuck. She'd really done that.
And then she heard Johnny's screams, heard him barreling towards her, and she relaxed. She'll give him his satisfaction. It was the least she could do.
And, well. Maybe in the process she'll get what she deserves? Question mark??? And, if she does, then. Well. There was satisfaction in that. Maybe. Hopefully.
Irene felt Johnny impact her from behind, felt the gun slip from her hand, felt her face hitting the ground, tasted dirt. It hurt. She whimpered a little.
Okay. She could do this. She could bear this out.
Just let it end. Let it end already.
Corner her, straddle her, trap her, throw fist after fist into her face, break her teeth, break her bones, slam her into the ground. Break her. Dig into her wound, push into her, tear her apart from the inside, because it's not enough that she kills Roy, it's not enough that she has her fun and assumes the right to take his life, she had to take Daniel's too, she had to take his life, she had to take fucking everything from him so he would take everything from her he would hurt her he would choke her he would make her crumble he would-
crack
oh.
Johnny collapsed on top of Irene, blood gushing from a bullet hole in his neck.
crack
oh.
Johnny collapsed on top of Irene, blood gushing from a bullet hole in his neck.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
He couldn't move.
He couldn't breathe.
He focused all his energy into moving, and yet nothing happened. Not even a fingertip.
Statue-like. Encased in concrete.
Come on.
Not now.
Please.
Don't do this to me, please.
I'm sorry.
Please.
He didn't know who he was speaking to, or praying to, maybe. He just hoped someone would hear.
Even if they heard, whoever or whatever could hear, they probably wouldn't listen. He probably didn't deserve that.
He didn't even know who'd shot him. It didn't matter. He was here, all the same.
He suddenly dropped to the ground a few inches. A small mercy. Irene had pushed herself out from under him. He wouldn't have to suffer under her presence, anymore. There was that.
As if a final punishment, Johnny's gaze was literally fixed onto Daniel, as he bled out. He couldn't turn his head away. Close enough to see it all happen, to see the light go from Daniel's eyes. Far enough to not be able to talk to one another.
He tried to say his name, but all that came out was a weak, breathy, bubbly rasp. Blood dripped from his mouth. No last words for him. No last conversation
He was dying, he realized. His hummingbird heart about to give out, about to run out of blood to pump.
This was it.
They talked about dying together. Usually in their D&D campaigns, when the dice wouldn't cooperate. Like now, he guessed. Or sometimes in their pretend apocalypses. Both of them, the heroes, stoically facing the bad guys, knowing they had no odds in their favor. A final goodbye. A final acknowledgement. And then they'd charge.
He'd thought himself a hero, once. He'd thought himself a badass.
His eyelids were drooping. Tears fell between them, onto the ground. Mixing with blood and sweat and snot. Small, shuddering sobs and gasps were all he could speak, all he could say. It wasn't enough to say sorry.
It took effort just to keep his eyes open. And he fought, he fought hard to get this last glimpse of Daniel. Daniel, bleeding out on the ground, meters away. Daniel, fading. This glimpse neither of them deserved.
If he'd just listened once, just once, to Daniel, they wouldn't be in this situation. He could be back there treating his wound, maybe saving him, saving someone for once. Or maybe they wouldn't be fighting at all. Just having tense conversation, and parting their ways. Maybe Bunny could have killed Irene, and that would have been that.
If he'd just kept his promise, if he'd just walked away from Roy instead of burning bridges, maybe the three of them would be together, would be alive.
If he'd just listened to Roy and Dan before, let them handle the situation with Irene, maybe she would be dead. Or maybe Rachael wouldn't have left. Or, if they'd just left Irene be, maybe Roy and Dan would both be alive, maybe they'd have stayed together. Maybe they could've formed up a plan. Escaped.
God. Must suck to be Daniel, right now. He stuck with Johnny even after he tried to kill him, and this is what he got. This is what anyone who tried to stick with Johnny got.
He tried to speak, again, because he needed to, he needed to say sorry for every single fucking thing he'd done. Only a gurgle came out.
Dying was taking too long. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts anymore. He didn't want to see Daniel die anymore.
He was struggling to think. He thought that would be a good thing, or, at least he thought he thought? He wouldn't have to think anymore, soon.
but what came after?
He wouldn't see Mom. Dad. He wouldn't hear Brian.
He wouldn't see Rachael. Roy. Dan. Daniel. They didn't deserve to be in the same place he'd end up in. If he ended up there, he'd walk out. They didn't deserve the displeasure of seeing him.
How long would it take to get there, wherever he'd end up in? Would it take as long as this was taking?
Had he ever been a hero in the first place? Had this always been just lurking underneath, whatever he was now?
When they called him a monster, after the surgery, had they been right?
He would leave that unanswered, for now. For ever.
It was a dark noon now. Dim. Quiet. Soft.
Maybe a last thought would count for something, if not a last word. If he couldn't even be a decent human being, maybe he could do just that.
Would he say another sorry?
Hope Daniel ended up in the good place? With hot chocolate? With all the other good people that had died?
Hope Brian got better, eventually? Hope his family would recover?
Would he forgive Irene, whoever killed him? Try to take the high road for once?
Would he...
He didn't know.
B33: JOHNNY LANCER: DECEASED
7 STUDENTS REMAINING
He couldn't breathe.
He focused all his energy into moving, and yet nothing happened. Not even a fingertip.
Statue-like. Encased in concrete.
Come on.
Not now.
Please.
Don't do this to me, please.
I'm sorry.
Please.
He didn't know who he was speaking to, or praying to, maybe. He just hoped someone would hear.
Even if they heard, whoever or whatever could hear, they probably wouldn't listen. He probably didn't deserve that.
He didn't even know who'd shot him. It didn't matter. He was here, all the same.
He suddenly dropped to the ground a few inches. A small mercy. Irene had pushed herself out from under him. He wouldn't have to suffer under her presence, anymore. There was that.
As if a final punishment, Johnny's gaze was literally fixed onto Daniel, as he bled out. He couldn't turn his head away. Close enough to see it all happen, to see the light go from Daniel's eyes. Far enough to not be able to talk to one another.
He tried to say his name, but all that came out was a weak, breathy, bubbly rasp. Blood dripped from his mouth. No last words for him. No last conversation
He was dying, he realized. His hummingbird heart about to give out, about to run out of blood to pump.
This was it.
They talked about dying together. Usually in their D&D campaigns, when the dice wouldn't cooperate. Like now, he guessed. Or sometimes in their pretend apocalypses. Both of them, the heroes, stoically facing the bad guys, knowing they had no odds in their favor. A final goodbye. A final acknowledgement. And then they'd charge.
He'd thought himself a hero, once. He'd thought himself a badass.
His eyelids were drooping. Tears fell between them, onto the ground. Mixing with blood and sweat and snot. Small, shuddering sobs and gasps were all he could speak, all he could say. It wasn't enough to say sorry.
It took effort just to keep his eyes open. And he fought, he fought hard to get this last glimpse of Daniel. Daniel, bleeding out on the ground, meters away. Daniel, fading. This glimpse neither of them deserved.
If he'd just listened once, just once, to Daniel, they wouldn't be in this situation. He could be back there treating his wound, maybe saving him, saving someone for once. Or maybe they wouldn't be fighting at all. Just having tense conversation, and parting their ways. Maybe Bunny could have killed Irene, and that would have been that.
If he'd just kept his promise, if he'd just walked away from Roy instead of burning bridges, maybe the three of them would be together, would be alive.
If he'd just listened to Roy and Dan before, let them handle the situation with Irene, maybe she would be dead. Or maybe Rachael wouldn't have left. Or, if they'd just left Irene be, maybe Roy and Dan would both be alive, maybe they'd have stayed together. Maybe they could've formed up a plan. Escaped.
God. Must suck to be Daniel, right now. He stuck with Johnny even after he tried to kill him, and this is what he got. This is what anyone who tried to stick with Johnny got.
He tried to speak, again, because he needed to, he needed to say sorry for every single fucking thing he'd done. Only a gurgle came out.
Dying was taking too long. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts anymore. He didn't want to see Daniel die anymore.
He was struggling to think. He thought that would be a good thing, or, at least he thought he thought? He wouldn't have to think anymore, soon.
but what came after?
He wouldn't see Mom. Dad. He wouldn't hear Brian.
He wouldn't see Rachael. Roy. Dan. Daniel. They didn't deserve to be in the same place he'd end up in. If he ended up there, he'd walk out. They didn't deserve the displeasure of seeing him.
How long would it take to get there, wherever he'd end up in? Would it take as long as this was taking?
Had he ever been a hero in the first place? Had this always been just lurking underneath, whatever he was now?
When they called him a monster, after the surgery, had they been right?
He would leave that unanswered, for now. For ever.
It was a dark noon now. Dim. Quiet. Soft.
Maybe a last thought would count for something, if not a last word. If he couldn't even be a decent human being, maybe he could do just that.
Would he say another sorry?
Hope Daniel ended up in the good place? With hot chocolate? With all the other good people that had died?
Hope Brian got better, eventually? Hope his family would recover?
Would he forgive Irene, whoever killed him? Try to take the high road for once?
Would he...
He didn't know.
B33: JOHNNY LANCER: DECEASED
7 STUDENTS REMAINING
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
And then, out of nowhere, it ended.
Irene tensed up, waited for the fist to drop again. No. Nothing.
Then she opened her eyes. She looked, she saw Johnny's neck, and her heart sank.
No. She didn't deserve this.
She didn't deserve to have to live with this.
Was it too much to ask? To get to go out with something resembling satisfaction? Was it too much to let Irene feel a tiny bit good about herself before she went out?
So she'd done good things, maybe. She'd shot Roy. Was that a good thing? It'd seemed like a good thing at the time. It'd seemed noble to help someone, even if it made her feel sick. It'd been the selfless thing, and it'd made her feel selfless, but. Did Irene care about being good, or about feeling good?
Johnny choked, gurgled above her. Irene considered trying to save him, contemplated extending his life and offering herself up to be killed by him. It's what would've made her happy. It wasn't what would make him happy, probably. He was already beyond hope, and the satisfaction of killing Irene probably wasn't worth the extra couple minutes of pain.
Anyways, that was all beside the point now. Not that practicality was Irene's concern anyways, but the person who'd shot him was still here, and it'd be pretty impractical to do first aid with her standing there, ready to shoot again.
Her.
Irene pushed Johnny off of herself, eased him onto the ground. Looked Bunny in the eye. Her savior, her damnation. At least Bunny was taking on a proper gravitas, now.
"Kill me."
And Bunny looked into Irene's eyes, and Irene's heart pounded, and she thought, well, this was it, this is how I die. She wished it could be happier than this, but. Triage. Heh. She was doing first aid, after all.
Bunny's lips twisted into a smirk.
"Nah."
And Irene understood. Irene was no threat. No one who begged for death was a threat. And she was dead anyways. Look at her. Take an inventory. Two fingers gone, face bashed in, who knows how many bullets in her gut, now. All Bunny had to do was walk away and laugh.
And Irene understood. She could see it now. Because for once, everything was clear. For once, she knew what she had to do. For once, what she had to do was what she wanted to do was what she wanted to want to do, and what she wanted to do was what she wanted to do, because it was what she needed to do. Usually it was impossible to want to do something that she didn't want to want to do, but she also didn't want to do most of the things that she wanted to want to do. But now--now. It was easy. Everything was so easy now.
Irene stood up, took a step.
"Okay, then."
Took another step. And another step.
The harpoon was lying in the dirt, just a couple yards away. Glistening. Shiny. Ready to use.
Don't look at the bodies. Don't look at Bunny. Just another step. And another. Come on.
Irene knew that Bunny would never let her actually get to the harpoon, pick it up, and use it. She knew that there was really no point in any of this.
Fuck if that would stop her from doing it, though. And not just like. Trying to do it. She could actually do it. Because she was gonna die anyways, so she might as well give herself that break and believe in the impossible. All that mattered was that Irene tried, and that she believed she could get to the harpoon. And yeah, okay, she doesn't really believe that she could get there, but for once, she didn't need to or even want to. Because Irene didn't even want to get to the harpoon. She wanted to die trying. She could almost see herself getting lost, yeah, getting lost in the dream, smiling, happy, ready to die. Not that she deserved to smile, but. Give her a break. Let her think about something else for once. She was about to die, after all.
Irene heard a click, a bang, and she closed her eyes.
Just a couple more steps. Just a couple more steps and
She was done, through, gone.
G28: IRENE DJEZARI: DECEASED
6 STUDENTS REMAINING
Irene tensed up, waited for the fist to drop again. No. Nothing.
Then she opened her eyes. She looked, she saw Johnny's neck, and her heart sank.
No. She didn't deserve this.
She didn't deserve to have to live with this.
Was it too much to ask? To get to go out with something resembling satisfaction? Was it too much to let Irene feel a tiny bit good about herself before she went out?
So she'd done good things, maybe. She'd shot Roy. Was that a good thing? It'd seemed like a good thing at the time. It'd seemed noble to help someone, even if it made her feel sick. It'd been the selfless thing, and it'd made her feel selfless, but. Did Irene care about being good, or about feeling good?
Johnny choked, gurgled above her. Irene considered trying to save him, contemplated extending his life and offering herself up to be killed by him. It's what would've made her happy. It wasn't what would make him happy, probably. He was already beyond hope, and the satisfaction of killing Irene probably wasn't worth the extra couple minutes of pain.
Anyways, that was all beside the point now. Not that practicality was Irene's concern anyways, but the person who'd shot him was still here, and it'd be pretty impractical to do first aid with her standing there, ready to shoot again.
Her.
Irene pushed Johnny off of herself, eased him onto the ground. Looked Bunny in the eye. Her savior, her damnation. At least Bunny was taking on a proper gravitas, now.
"Kill me."
And Bunny looked into Irene's eyes, and Irene's heart pounded, and she thought, well, this was it, this is how I die. She wished it could be happier than this, but. Triage. Heh. She was doing first aid, after all.
Bunny's lips twisted into a smirk.
"Nah."
And Irene understood. Irene was no threat. No one who begged for death was a threat. And she was dead anyways. Look at her. Take an inventory. Two fingers gone, face bashed in, who knows how many bullets in her gut, now. All Bunny had to do was walk away and laugh.
And Irene understood. She could see it now. Because for once, everything was clear. For once, she knew what she had to do. For once, what she had to do was what she wanted to do was what she wanted to want to do, and what she wanted to do was what she wanted to do, because it was what she needed to do. Usually it was impossible to want to do something that she didn't want to want to do, but she also didn't want to do most of the things that she wanted to want to do. But now--now. It was easy. Everything was so easy now.
Irene stood up, took a step.
"Okay, then."
Took another step. And another step.
The harpoon was lying in the dirt, just a couple yards away. Glistening. Shiny. Ready to use.
Don't look at the bodies. Don't look at Bunny. Just another step. And another. Come on.
Irene knew that Bunny would never let her actually get to the harpoon, pick it up, and use it. She knew that there was really no point in any of this.
Fuck if that would stop her from doing it, though. And not just like. Trying to do it. She could actually do it. Because she was gonna die anyways, so she might as well give herself that break and believe in the impossible. All that mattered was that Irene tried, and that she believed she could get to the harpoon. And yeah, okay, she doesn't really believe that she could get there, but for once, she didn't need to or even want to. Because Irene didn't even want to get to the harpoon. She wanted to die trying. She could almost see herself getting lost, yeah, getting lost in the dream, smiling, happy, ready to die. Not that she deserved to smile, but. Give her a break. Let her think about something else for once. She was about to die, after all.
Irene heard a click, a bang, and she closed her eyes.
Just a couple more steps. Just a couple more steps and
She was done, through, gone.
G28: IRENE DJEZARI: DECEASED
6 STUDENTS REMAINING
-
delicateMachine
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: void
It would’ve been noble, if Daniel’s last thoughts had been about the people he loved. The people he was leaving behind, the people who had already left him behind. Left at home, left on the island, left too soon, left hanging, left unforgiven, left without an apology. It wasn’t right! Ha. ha. ha.
Left the cabin too soon, left the tunnels too late, left the tunnels too late part two but with more knives this time, left craving death from a stranger because everything was too much to bear, left quietly like a squandered blessing, left bleeding out unnoticed ten feet in front of him.
Left making a scene at his funeral and flipping off the priest because his dad’s shaky hands had made a horrific mistranslation and he was nothing but exposed nerves looking to tear the skin off someone else for a change.
It would’ve been noble, but even with all the time he had left in the world to contemplate his sorry fate, he was in pain and scared and delirious and so, so, tired, so he did not think any of those things.
There were loud noises, but the world was getting pretty blurry and everything was deafening, so it was just, like, par for the course. What else is new was getting pretty old. He vaguely reached out a hand, because the person that had been there wasn’t there anymore.
“Johnny? Sorry, I… uh… didn’t hear you… could you...”
No response.
Even if there had been one, Daniel wouldn’t have heard it.
Left the cabin too soon, left the tunnels too late, left the tunnels too late part two but with more knives this time, left craving death from a stranger because everything was too much to bear, left quietly like a squandered blessing, left bleeding out unnoticed ten feet in front of him.
Left making a scene at his funeral and flipping off the priest because his dad’s shaky hands had made a horrific mistranslation and he was nothing but exposed nerves looking to tear the skin off someone else for a change.
It would’ve been noble, but even with all the time he had left in the world to contemplate his sorry fate, he was in pain and scared and delirious and so, so, tired, so he did not think any of those things.
There were loud noises, but the world was getting pretty blurry and everything was deafening, so it was just, like, par for the course. What else is new was getting pretty old. He vaguely reached out a hand, because the person that had been there wasn’t there anymore.
“Johnny? Sorry, I… uh… didn’t hear you… could you...”
No response.
Even if there had been one, Daniel wouldn’t have heard it.
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Pippi
- Posts: 1118
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Phew. Finally. A chance to breathe.
Bunny surveyed the carnage in front of her, doing her best to blot out the pain radiating from her lower leg and the wet sound of blood dripping to the ground. She could block it out, but she couldn’t pretend she didn’t know what that sound was. She’d heard it too many times now. It was as familiar to her as breathing.
She took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, wincing as she did, the wound on her calf stinging with even her slight movement. Her throat stung too, a combination of the cold, dry wind and the lingering gun smoke burning it. She felt tears well up in the corners of her eyes, and for a moment, that petty, volatile part of her that had driven her on this chaotic journey yelled at her to lash out, to kick a rock or fire a volley of bullets into Irene’s dead body, or something like that.
She didn’t though. And a moment later, Bunny started grinning. It hurt, pretty much everything on her body hurt and ached and stung, but y’know what?
She was still alive. And these three dummies weren’t.
If she was being totes honest, though, she probably didn’t exactly deserve to be. She’d misplayed that. She’d misplayed that hard. She could make excuses for herself, tell herself that she hadn’t expected them all to instantly turn on her, that she didn’t think Irene would keep striding towards someone wielding a gun, that she hadn’t expected her to keep doing the same, even after being shot in the gut. But really, if she had just mowed them all down and carried on like nothing had ever happened, then she’d be on her way to the finale, right as rain. She’d had to use bullets anyhow, after all.
She had been content to just turn and walk away and let Irene bleed out – it was more than the binch deserved – but then she had gone for the harpoon, and if Bunny could say anything about the girl, it was that she must have been made of iron, because Bunny knew that if she’d been allowed to grab that weapon, she’d have turned and used it instantly. So Bunny had fired first. And Johnny? Johnny had been like a sad, lonely old dog, curling up around the corpse of his master. So she’d put him down. Really, this had been the end of the line for him no matter what. If he’d managed to crawl to the finish line, it wouldn’t have been a fight. It would have been a slaughter.
Bunny stepped over Irene’s body to pick up her harpoon. Wasn’t like she’d be needing it any more, and even if she had, Bunny would have taken it. To the victor go the spoils! Even this simple act, however, sent a barrage of pain through Bunny’s calf and up her leg, spiralling through the rest of her body. Guh. Fudge. Whoulda thought that a dumb scratch on her leg would be the thing that slowed her down the most. Her hubris in chucking her first aid kit away was really catching up to her now.
She thought for a moment, then sighed. She wiggled her arm out of the sleeve of her hoody, then grabbed the material with both hands, yanking it as hard as she could. More effort than necessary, really; the thing was so chock-full of holes and tears that it was already practically falling apart. Bunny held the sleeve in front of her for a moment, before sighing again. Falling apart it might be, but it was still one of her very favourite pieces of clothing. Heck, this whole outfit was one of her favourites, and it was totally ruined! That would definitely be first on the menu when she got out of here; replacing all the clothes she’d lost to murder island.
Bunny sat herself down on the ground, facing away from the pretty gross sight of Irene’s body, and the pile that had once been Daniel and Johnny. She looped the sleeve around her calf, as tight as she could without cutting off the blood flow, then tied it in a neat bow. All done! A handy-dandy bandage, all at arm’s reach!
“There! Good as new!”
She steadily got to her feet, taking in another lungful of smoky air. Minute by minute, bullet by bullet, she was getting closer to leaving this place. She couldn’t wait.
Bunny left the flower field, the bodies of Daniel and Irene and Johnny left behind and forgotten by her body and mind.
((Bunny Barlowe, continued in We Own The Night))
Bunny surveyed the carnage in front of her, doing her best to blot out the pain radiating from her lower leg and the wet sound of blood dripping to the ground. She could block it out, but she couldn’t pretend she didn’t know what that sound was. She’d heard it too many times now. It was as familiar to her as breathing.
She took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, wincing as she did, the wound on her calf stinging with even her slight movement. Her throat stung too, a combination of the cold, dry wind and the lingering gun smoke burning it. She felt tears well up in the corners of her eyes, and for a moment, that petty, volatile part of her that had driven her on this chaotic journey yelled at her to lash out, to kick a rock or fire a volley of bullets into Irene’s dead body, or something like that.
She didn’t though. And a moment later, Bunny started grinning. It hurt, pretty much everything on her body hurt and ached and stung, but y’know what?
She was still alive. And these three dummies weren’t.
If she was being totes honest, though, she probably didn’t exactly deserve to be. She’d misplayed that. She’d misplayed that hard. She could make excuses for herself, tell herself that she hadn’t expected them all to instantly turn on her, that she didn’t think Irene would keep striding towards someone wielding a gun, that she hadn’t expected her to keep doing the same, even after being shot in the gut. But really, if she had just mowed them all down and carried on like nothing had ever happened, then she’d be on her way to the finale, right as rain. She’d had to use bullets anyhow, after all.
She had been content to just turn and walk away and let Irene bleed out – it was more than the binch deserved – but then she had gone for the harpoon, and if Bunny could say anything about the girl, it was that she must have been made of iron, because Bunny knew that if she’d been allowed to grab that weapon, she’d have turned and used it instantly. So Bunny had fired first. And Johnny? Johnny had been like a sad, lonely old dog, curling up around the corpse of his master. So she’d put him down. Really, this had been the end of the line for him no matter what. If he’d managed to crawl to the finish line, it wouldn’t have been a fight. It would have been a slaughter.
Bunny stepped over Irene’s body to pick up her harpoon. Wasn’t like she’d be needing it any more, and even if she had, Bunny would have taken it. To the victor go the spoils! Even this simple act, however, sent a barrage of pain through Bunny’s calf and up her leg, spiralling through the rest of her body. Guh. Fudge. Whoulda thought that a dumb scratch on her leg would be the thing that slowed her down the most. Her hubris in chucking her first aid kit away was really catching up to her now.
She thought for a moment, then sighed. She wiggled her arm out of the sleeve of her hoody, then grabbed the material with both hands, yanking it as hard as she could. More effort than necessary, really; the thing was so chock-full of holes and tears that it was already practically falling apart. Bunny held the sleeve in front of her for a moment, before sighing again. Falling apart it might be, but it was still one of her very favourite pieces of clothing. Heck, this whole outfit was one of her favourites, and it was totally ruined! That would definitely be first on the menu when she got out of here; replacing all the clothes she’d lost to murder island.
Bunny sat herself down on the ground, facing away from the pretty gross sight of Irene’s body, and the pile that had once been Daniel and Johnny. She looped the sleeve around her calf, as tight as she could without cutting off the blood flow, then tied it in a neat bow. All done! A handy-dandy bandage, all at arm’s reach!
“There! Good as new!”
She steadily got to her feet, taking in another lungful of smoky air. Minute by minute, bullet by bullet, she was getting closer to leaving this place. She couldn’t wait.
Bunny left the flower field, the bodies of Daniel and Irene and Johnny left behind and forgotten by her body and mind.
((Bunny Barlowe, continued in We Own The Night))