Paradigm

[MurderWeasel]

This time, there's a reflective bent to the words, and their pace is relaxed.

"It's been my pleasure. And I don't think you didn't deserve it.

"Not that that really matters. Very little in life is about what people deserve, and here even more so."

[Pippi]

“Fucking tell me about it.”

Now, this would have been the perfect time to have raised a glass in agreement, or more realistically, the whole damn bottle, a real ‘Cheers bro I’ll drink to that’ moment, but, of course, the goddamn motherfucking dipshit producers - and she could say that, cause what were they gonna do, blow her neck up again? - had only given everyone the tiny little itty bitty baby bottles of rum, which sucked, and were pointless. You could probably combine all of them into one solo cup, and it still wouldn’t be enough to get someone fucking wasted.

Actually, fuck it, while her mind was on the subject.

“You know what we all deserved, for a start? Some motherfucking alcohol that wasn’t just those tiny little shitty medicine bottles, like, what the fuck? There’s one sip in each of those. They’re fucking pointless. Hey, yo, but, you’ve got some influence and shit right? Can you make sure that the poor fucks of next season get something more substantial, like, maybe some cocaine or something? We’re from Miami, for fuck’s sake.”

“... I never actually found that cocaine, soz babes. Spent too much time fucking dicking around and getting held up by psycho K-Pop wannabes. You know, the usual shit. Hope whoever did find it is making the most out of it though. Hey, can you tell me who it is now? C’mon, throw a little bone to your best bitch Laura? I’m gonna explode in a minute anyway, not like it’s gonna give me a goddamn advantage.”

She laughed again, still unaccustomed to the genuine humour she found in her voice. Maybe she could keep talking long enough for the sun to come up. Then at least she wouldn’t be dying in the middle of boring, shitty grey slate waters.

“Aw, goddamnit, now you’ve got me thinking about shit like… shit like how Alaska deserved better than to bleed out in a goddamn ugly-ass Guy Fieri patented speedboat. Or like… obviously I’m a shitty bitch. I’m an annoying cunt. But I don’t think that, like, this, right here is exactly me getting my just desserts. I’m not a fucking business major, after all.”

She sighed. Her fingers were getting wrinkled to shit now. Weird how heat turned grapes into raisins, but water turned humans into raisins, huh? Yet more evidence proving how far we had yet to come to reach the heights of the noble grape.

“It’s whatever, though. It’s whatever. No use pissing yourself over spilled milk, as they say. This is still the best of a cunty scenario, so. Whatever.”

[MurderWeasel]

There's a measure of genuine warmth and mirth to the reply, too.

"I'll ask about the provisions. And the coke, well, honestly a player group looted it and have been taking lines ever since.

"I guess you didn't miss all that much there, in the end."

A brief pause, punctuated by a beep. When the voice returns, it's quieter, conspiratorial.

"Hey, Laura, you want to know a secret?"

[Pippi]

Fuckin’ figured. If anyone had gotten to the coke first, of course it had to be a group of players roaming around together, a section of the SOTF ecosystem that could only exist via suicidal levels of stupidity. She guessed it might work here, in the modern day, team based seasons, but she also highly doubted any of the dipshits in that group would have the smarts to not mingle with other team members. Like, you were seriously gonna hang with a group of people, all of whom were willing to kill anyone who got in their way, and think that things weren’t gonna end with a bullet in the back of your skull as soon as the opportunity struck? Fucking please. The fucking coke would probably only improve their intelligence.

Oh well. Whatever, again. They were stuck out here, taking coke, probably for the first time, in the middle of a bloody death game, while she had… well, the last time she’d done a few lines had been in the bathroom of some polo shirt wearing lacrosse playing fuckboy’s parents’ mini-mansion. So, almost as horrifying, basically. Maybe when the scientists running this whole simulation decided to press reset on the universe she’d get her chance to grab the flotilla coke on the second runthrough.

She had more important things to give a shit about now, though. Like super sexy mentor secrets.

“From you, Jewel? Fuck yeah I do, this had better be juicy as fuck."

[MurderWeasel]

Between the lapping of the water, the beeping from the collar, and the faint whispering of the voice, the next words are not audible beyond the wearer.

[Pippi]

… Well, fuck her sideways.

So Jewel had dropped her voice like fuckin’ woah, talking in a barely audible whisper, and that told Laura one thing and one thing only; this secret was for her ears only. If someone from school had told her something like that, that they had, as a totally hypothetical example, sucked off some dude at the party last weekend, then you could bet your ass that rumour would be circulating in a manner of minutes. But for this particular secret? Well, Laura was goddamn certain it would piss off a way larger amount of people if she hid a secret about Jewel Motherfucking Evans from them. So for once, her lips were gonna be totally goddamn sealed.

She still couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, though. This was a goddamn biggie bitch of a secret, after all.

“Well, shit dude,” she muttered, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment. “So like, I’ve read your book, yeah, so I know you’re a fuckin’ consummate liar and shit. So like, forgive me if I take this whole thing with a whole dickload of salt. Or don’t. I’m not your boss. But if you are telling the truth, then, like. Jeez. Wish I could rewatch some shit so I…”

She paused. And then she laughed. Oopsy woopsy. That would be telling, now, wouldn’t it?

“You’re giving me a lot to fucking think about while I’m waiting in line for St. Peter to slap me with the Good Girl Stamp, y’know?”

[MurderWeasel]

The chuckle is, again, warm. The volume is back to normal.

"All is forgiven. It's only smart to be skeptical.

"I'm not lying. Nothing to gain from it.

"Of course, I know you're smart enough to take that with a grain of salt too."

[Pippi]

“T’chyeah. Y’know… we’re not too different, are we… you and I?”

Laura set her voice to as deep as she could possibly manage, putting as much over-inflection on each word as she could, so as best to imitate the Generic Shounen Anime Bad Guy as possible, an effect that was totally fucking undercut by the snort of derision she made as soon as she’d finished talking. Because she sounded like a total goddamn tit, duh.

“No, but, like, seriously though. You’re right, I get it. Cause when you spend your life doing outrageous, outlandish bullshit, you gotta make sure everything that comes outta your mouth is just as fucking insane and totally unbelievable. And half of it’s unbelievable cause you made that shit right up on the spot! But the other half, oh baby, the other half is totally legit shit you think, or feel, or have done, and the best part is that people know that! They know that everything you say is never 100% pulled right outta your ass, so every single word that comes outta your lips sticks with them, cause what if it is true? What if she’s not totally full of shit? That’s how you leave a fucking impression!

…

That’s how you get remembered.”

She let out a little sigh. Her collar let out a little beep. A comparatively fuck-off big wave jostled her, momentarily slipping her hand off of the ladder.

“I’m also smart enough to know my fifteen minutes of fame are almost up.”

[MurderWeasel]

There's a little sigh from the collar, too.

"It is.

"For what it's worth, I don't think you have to worry about being remembered. I won't ever forget you."

[Pippi]

“Heh. Thanks. Coming from you that means a lot.

…

That’s it, by the way. End tweet, hit send, over and out. No snarky bullshit, no shitty comment. None of that.

…

Regardless of all the other fuckery I’ve dealt with over the past few days, I’m glad I got to talk with you like this.”

[MurderWeasel]

The tone of the reply is bittersweet.

"Me too. It's been real.

"See you on the other side, Laura."

[Pippi]

“Yeah. See you ‘round, Jewel.”

The waves lapped against her body, rolling against the side of the boat behind her. It was… weirdly calming. She felt kinda like one of those monks sitting underneath a waterfall for hours.

“Hey, Jewel?”

Seconds passed. The gentle shushing sound of the ocean, and the breeze flowing through her hair, was interrupted by the annoying bastard bitch beep of her collar. So that was it then, huh? Her communication with Jewel was totally kaput? She’d pretty much figured that was the case, and she hadn’t actually had anything more to say to her, but, like. Y’know. She knew that this was what she wanted, fuck, what she needed to do. Every other option sounded insanely shitty, at this point, and probably would have led to the exact same outcome, just with a bottle of pills or a long walk off a short ledge instead.

But she still wasn’t totally ready for it, y’know? She doubted anybody would be. Like, she was counting down the seconds until her fucking neck disintegrated into a bloody mist, for fuck’s sake, that was really kinda fucked up!

So, like, was this the time for last words, then? She’d already kinda got her fill in, talking with Jewel. But, hey. Laura was always pretty fuckin’ good at getting the last word in edgeways. She supposed she hadn’t told her parents to fuck off yet. She could do that. But was she really gonna spend what might be her very last few seconds on earth doing something that petty, rather than letting bygones be bygones, forgive and forget, all that shit?

“Yo, Mom, Dad? You can both go fuck yourselves. Kristian, you’re pretty okay, I guess.”

Yes, she sure as fuck was.

She hummed something, a tune that vaguely could be interpreted as Taps performed by a drunk on a piece of tissue paper and comb. She untied the bandana holding her plait together, shaking her hair free, letting it fall in messy strands down her back and letting the length of fabric go, dropping it into the water. She watched it float away, bobbing gently, a small red streak slashed into the slate grey water. If she was gonna go down, then she was gonna go down as just herself. Just Laura Hakštok. No embellishments, no reminder of this show. Just her.

She did, of course, have one last thing she needed to do. She always had to get the last word in, remember?

“Everybody else?” she said, voice clear and confident. “You all heard what Jewel said, right? That she had a secret to tell me, yeah? Bet you’re all itching to hear what it is, huh? Well, lemme fucking give you all the deets, right here. She told me-”

With a huge, shark-tooth grin, she grabbed tightly to the ladder and pushed herself down, down below the surface of the water, grabbing onto the very bottom rung to keep herself tethered, surrounded by the murky, endless sea.

There was a muffled string of electronic beeping. Then there was a shockwave that rippled the water and rocked the boat, jostling her makeshift flag. And then, finally, there was nothing.

JL10: LAURA HAKŠTOK

DECEASED