Fisk grasped at his back as he rolled around on the ground, gasping for air. Sonofa- that hurt...
His head darted to the left and to the right as he realized his own beloved machine gun was nowhere in sight. He peeked up and saw it across the table from him. Past that, he saw Olivia and Lucia, too preoccupied with each other to worry about him.
Fisk smiled.
Fisk saw his opportunity and seized it.
He stepped over the typewriter, blade in hand, arm behind his back.
Hotline Miami
Do You Like Hurting Other People? Private
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Olivia didn't know when she'd opened her mouth to scream. It must have been when the
aching
throbbing
radiating
burning
sparking
ripping
a bloody hole clean through her shoulder.
"...fffuck," she choked out, her voice betraying the agony coursing through her body. It was pain like nothing she had ever experienced — like a burn and a baseball bat to the knee at the same time, blunt but electric, numb and yet raw.
Blinking back tears with dull, frightened eyes, she saw Lucia and she saw Fisk and she especially saw the gun that wasn't in his hands. He was mad, he had to be. So why was he creeping up behind the other girl? Why was there an evil little smirk plastered all over his face?
Something coming from Fisk's hand glinted.
"LUCIA!" she cried. "LOOK BEHIND YOU—"
aching
throbbing
radiating
burning
sparking
ripping
a bloody hole clean through her shoulder.
"...fffuck," she choked out, her voice betraying the agony coursing through her body. It was pain like nothing she had ever experienced — like a burn and a baseball bat to the knee at the same time, blunt but electric, numb and yet raw.
Blinking back tears with dull, frightened eyes, she saw Lucia and she saw Fisk and she especially saw the gun that wasn't in his hands. He was mad, he had to be. So why was he creeping up behind the other girl? Why was there an evil little smirk plastered all over his face?
Something coming from Fisk's hand glinted.
"LUCIA!" she cried. "LOOK BEHIND YOU—"
It was too late. Always too late. The depiction of her body as a thing to be ruined, the hand that reached from the side of her neck to the other side, the blood on the cameras. This was who she was. This was all they will know her as.
Lucia didn't like hurting other people. But she wished she did. So that she could take her own pain and press it on to the boy like a hot iron. To brand him a thousand times more. So that she could've hurt him before he hurt her.
There was a thing such as being euphoric with pain. It didn't feel real until it did.
The blood going down her throat from the inside felt a bit like she was drinking water down from the swimming pool.
Something resembling laughter and something resembling a screech tried to escape from her cut-open windpipe. Not mutually exclusive. Was her voice always this deep? Was this what she sounded like when other people heard her, when she was recorded?
Just what makes a person the way they are? What gave someone the capacity for mindless evil? What gave somebody the capacity to not pull the trigger? Was she just someone who'll never be able to want to hurt someone more than she wanted everyone else to be happier?
Maybe she was always too much of a people pleaser. Maybe she never was. Either way, it made some thematic sense that she died here.
Her last words would be calling out another girl's name. She wondered what they'll do with that clip.
She wondered what they'll do with her at all.
Thoughts raced through her head like a train derailing, carts and passengers flinging its way down the flat terrain, separated, disconnected, with nothing in particular stringing them together. Chemicals she couldn't identity streamed through her veins. In the end, would this be all that she was?
Blood pushed their way up and out and down her throat as she choked.
"I hate you so much," she'd say, "I almost wanted you to win just so that you'll have more time to hate yourself."
"I love you," she'd say, "Every one of you. That I hadn't had the chance to say it to before."
One day she'll have the courage to do that. One day. Another life, another incarnation, another fan project in the hands of inoffensive but misguided teens trying to cope by weaving them into a story happier than the life they lived.
She was fading out. She had barely hit the ground and she was fading out.
One hand reached for her neck.
The other for the boy's shoes. Holding them down. Hands snaking up to the ankles. If dead weight was all she could be now, was all that she had left, then she'll be it.
It didn't bother her. The fact that she was dying almost didn't bother her at all. She didn't know why. Maybe it hasn't sunk in yet. Like the blade. Like the blood down her throat. So much blood. She couldn't stop.
Did you know that during the filming of the Shining, Shelley Duvall was so traumatized by the director that she might've developed a mental illness?
Did you know that the entire entertainment industry was built on being loved and being hurt?
Fisk watched Lucia drop in front of him, his eyes wide open focused on Olivia next. Blood slick hand held blood slick blade. He took a breath, his lips parted in a grin as his eyes stared daggers. What now?
What now...
“You should consider her lucky that I’m a better friend to Vasily than she ever was. If it came to happen he wanted Lucia to go quick, and to know Vasily sends his regards.”
He looked down, at Lucia for the latter part to see if she were around to acknowledge the last words in her fleeting state. Eyes back on Olivia.
“Personally I don’t think she deserves it, working with his killer and all, but that’s not up to me. Though to be fair, I do pity her, she probably didn’t know what she was in for. Maybe I did her a favor after all, she’s not going to be around long enough to see you and your new friends betray her.”
He pointed his knife to Olivia. “You however... You really disappoint me. I don’t know if you’re in on their game or not, but you’re just a tool to them. You and her. You get that right? What? You wear the same bandanna and they’re going to take you to the end with them?”
“You think they care, but where are they? They left you with me, knowing what I’m capable of. Some friends. You were always expendable to them. I should know. I’ve dealt with the both of them since the game started. Most of my kills, and my friends‘ at that; came to be because they left them behind.”
“Starting something they couldn’t finish...”
Fisk glanced behind him. Machine gun, then door.
“Congratulations, you get a get out of jail free card today. I’d stick around and make you join Lucia, but I’ve got more important matters to attend to, like ensuring I don’t lose my friends to yours’ petty vengeance attempts.“
“I bid you vale-“
“Let me go.”
“LET ME GO!”
What now...
“You should consider her lucky that I’m a better friend to Vasily than she ever was. If it came to happen he wanted Lucia to go quick, and to know Vasily sends his regards.”
He looked down, at Lucia for the latter part to see if she were around to acknowledge the last words in her fleeting state. Eyes back on Olivia.
“Personally I don’t think she deserves it, working with his killer and all, but that’s not up to me. Though to be fair, I do pity her, she probably didn’t know what she was in for. Maybe I did her a favor after all, she’s not going to be around long enough to see you and your new friends betray her.”
He pointed his knife to Olivia. “You however... You really disappoint me. I don’t know if you’re in on their game or not, but you’re just a tool to them. You and her. You get that right? What? You wear the same bandanna and they’re going to take you to the end with them?”
“You think they care, but where are they? They left you with me, knowing what I’m capable of. Some friends. You were always expendable to them. I should know. I’ve dealt with the both of them since the game started. Most of my kills, and my friends‘ at that; came to be because they left them behind.”
“Starting something they couldn’t finish...”
Fisk glanced behind him. Machine gun, then door.
“Congratulations, you get a get out of jail free card today. I’d stick around and make you join Lucia, but I’ve got more important matters to attend to, like ensuring I don’t lose my friends to yours’ petty vengeance attempts.“
“I bid you vale-“
“Let me go.”
“LET ME GO!”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
The knife slashed through Lucia's throat in the cruelest of instants.
"No..." Olivia mumbled, incredulous. How could a trained martial artist fall to such an obvious sneak attack? How could her closest ally die because of a deranged asshole like Fisk?
She stared ahead, goggle-eyed, at the blood flowing from Lucia's throat. A horrible noise burbled out with the blood: the laughter of the damned, or perhaps a death-scream. Not even Cory had let loose such a sound, not when she shot him. Had Gregory heard it? Did the boy die with a shriek, or with a whisper? Olivia felt like a fugitive brought to trial: confronted, cornered, and alone. Lucia spoke her name and collapsed. She sniffled.
The glinting of Fisk's knife pierced through her tears, and she forced herself to crane her wet face up at Lucia's killer. Her eyes were soggy and showed every emotion at once. Blood seeped into the once-bright yellow of her sweater. Fisk rambled, taunted her. She heard only snippets through her pain — something about Vasily, something about disappointment. She didn't care. Screw the supervillain monologues. Everything hurt. Her shoulder. Her eyes. Her soul.
And then the boy fell, screaming. Lucia had tripped him. Her final play, with all the unnecessary roughness in the world. Olivia shuddered, a thrill of triumph. She laughed. She cried. She'd taught her well.
She still had her shotgun. No one-liners. No snappy retorts. Those could wait until she was alone. Her hands flew. Her shotgun made a decisive cha-chk.
BANG
"No..." Olivia mumbled, incredulous. How could a trained martial artist fall to such an obvious sneak attack? How could her closest ally die because of a deranged asshole like Fisk?
She stared ahead, goggle-eyed, at the blood flowing from Lucia's throat. A horrible noise burbled out with the blood: the laughter of the damned, or perhaps a death-scream. Not even Cory had let loose such a sound, not when she shot him. Had Gregory heard it? Did the boy die with a shriek, or with a whisper? Olivia felt like a fugitive brought to trial: confronted, cornered, and alone. Lucia spoke her name and collapsed. She sniffled.
The glinting of Fisk's knife pierced through her tears, and she forced herself to crane her wet face up at Lucia's killer. Her eyes were soggy and showed every emotion at once. Blood seeped into the once-bright yellow of her sweater. Fisk rambled, taunted her. She heard only snippets through her pain — something about Vasily, something about disappointment. She didn't care. Screw the supervillain monologues. Everything hurt. Her shoulder. Her eyes. Her soul.
And then the boy fell, screaming. Lucia had tripped him. Her final play, with all the unnecessary roughness in the world. Olivia shuddered, a thrill of triumph. She laughed. She cried. She'd taught her well.
She still had her shotgun. No one-liners. No snappy retorts. Those could wait until she was alone. Her hands flew. Her shotgun made a decisive cha-chk.
BANG
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
She didn't let go. In fact, she took her other hand and sank her nails in, sharp fingers pressing themselves into the grooves of his tendons, the pale expanse of skin.
His words filtered through her deprived brain, taking away her mourning, her outrage. All that was left was a disconnected, primal urge to hurt. She half-smiled with bloody teeth.
And she bit down.
His words filtered through her deprived brain, taking away her mourning, her outrage. All that was left was a disconnected, primal urge to hurt. She half-smiled with bloody teeth.
And she bit down.
Fisk screamed as nails and teeth sunk into ankle. Why do people insist on not dying quietly? Don’t they realize their inevitable deaths would hurt a lot less if they give up?
“LET!”
He shook his leg and ducked down with the knife, stabbing into Lucia’s back.
“GO!”
He looked up as Olivia racked the shotgun. Give them an inch...
The barrel pointed at Fisk, he lunged forward as the sound of cloths tearing filled the air. He gripped the barrel and-
Loud blast.
His ears were ringing.
Everything was quiet, it all sounded underwater. His hand felt like it was on fire holding the smoking barrel. He gripped tighter and grimaced, pulling back to throw Olivia off balance. A second later he shoved forward, making sure to smash her in the shoulder with the butt stock of her own gun.
As she stumbled back Fisk lunged forward and sent a kick to her chest, sending Olivia to the ground as he held her shotgun.
He turned back to Lucia.
His hearing was returning.
Hissing like a cat, Fisk brought his leg up and sent a metal heel down onto Lucia’s head.
He did it again.
He did it again.
He did it again...
Fisk jumped and brought both legs to his chest in the air. He straightened them out and landed on Lucia’s head once more.
The crunch was more than audible to everyone in the room.
“LET!”
He shook his leg and ducked down with the knife, stabbing into Lucia’s back.
“GO!”
He looked up as Olivia racked the shotgun. Give them an inch...
The barrel pointed at Fisk, he lunged forward as the sound of cloths tearing filled the air. He gripped the barrel and-
Loud blast.
His ears were ringing.
Everything was quiet, it all sounded underwater. His hand felt like it was on fire holding the smoking barrel. He gripped tighter and grimaced, pulling back to throw Olivia off balance. A second later he shoved forward, making sure to smash her in the shoulder with the butt stock of her own gun.
As she stumbled back Fisk lunged forward and sent a kick to her chest, sending Olivia to the ground as he held her shotgun.
He turned back to Lucia.
His hearing was returning.
Hissing like a cat, Fisk brought his leg up and sent a metal heel down onto Lucia’s head.
He did it again.
He did it again.
He did it again...
Fisk jumped and brought both legs to his chest in the air. He straightened them out and landed on Lucia’s head once more.
The crunch was more than audible to everyone in the room.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
What happened?
Olivia swore she'd shot to kill, that Lucia's death did not go unavenged. Then there was a hand, then there was a swift impact right in her chest. Her gun fumbled out of her hands like an alligator-armed pass from a complete newbie. She lay there, sprawled out on the ground, praying the debris all over the floor wouldn't leave any more wounds behind.
CRUNCH
"Oh, you fuckin' piece of...!" she spluttered, too shocked for any semblance of a filter. Wasn't slashing someone's throat open enough for Fisk Bateman? No, he'd opted for stomping Lucia's head to bits, just to finish the job. Ever the theatre kid, even in the throes of madness. She'd have clapped, if only his little dramatic touch hadn't brutally killed her only surviving friend.
How many are still alive?
How close was she to glory?
How are YOU gonna survive this one, del Rio?
"...shut up, shut up, I don't know...!" Olivia cried, but the voice wouldn't stop needling her, pricking at her psyche, a porcelain shard for an overwhelmed young mind. Her eyes shut tight, bracing for the inevitable shotgun's roar.
Her muscles were leaden. Her blood was ice.
And Fisk, she knew, was beyond mercy.
Olivia swore she'd shot to kill, that Lucia's death did not go unavenged. Then there was a hand, then there was a swift impact right in her chest. Her gun fumbled out of her hands like an alligator-armed pass from a complete newbie. She lay there, sprawled out on the ground, praying the debris all over the floor wouldn't leave any more wounds behind.
CRUNCH
"Oh, you fuckin' piece of...!" she spluttered, too shocked for any semblance of a filter. Wasn't slashing someone's throat open enough for Fisk Bateman? No, he'd opted for stomping Lucia's head to bits, just to finish the job. Ever the theatre kid, even in the throes of madness. She'd have clapped, if only his little dramatic touch hadn't brutally killed her only surviving friend.
How many are still alive?
How close was she to glory?
How are YOU gonna survive this one, del Rio?
"...shut up, shut up, I don't know...!" Olivia cried, but the voice wouldn't stop needling her, pricking at her psyche, a porcelain shard for an overwhelmed young mind. Her eyes shut tight, bracing for the inevitable shotgun's roar.
Her muscles were leaden. Her blood was ice.
And Fisk, she knew, was beyond mercy.
Fisk stood panting over Olivia next. After that little stunt, he wasn’t going to let her go.
When Olivia opened her eyes, she saw the same metal heel that ended Lucia, blood and gristle still caked upon it, careening towards her face before she lost consciousness...
(( Fisk Bateman and Olivia del Rio continued elsewhere...))
When Olivia opened her eyes, she saw the same metal heel that ended Lucia, blood and gristle still caked upon it, careening towards her face before she lost consciousness...
(( Fisk Bateman and Olivia del Rio continued elsewhere...))
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
There wasn’t ever a way that this could’ve ended in a satisfactory way.
She’s been avoiding this for a long time, now, staring down at the fact that there is nothing she could do that would ever make her happy again. Lucia is a creature dependent on interaction. Her identity is a thing forged both by herself and the countless identities surrounding her, bleeding into her. One day, she knew that bleeding would stop, and she’ll be emptied out. That everybody she ever loved would die, and nobody would replace them. Reyna said it once that a part of her couldn’t help but think about how burying one’s parents is a part of life, that it felt like nature’s cruel and inherent design. Now she would have to bury her sister, too. Now her parents would have to bury a daughter.
No conclusion would ever wrap her story up. No singular scene, quote, anything.
And she’s fine with that.
Maybe.
It was too late to think anything else now.
...
...
The flies that had chewed their way through her friends now lay on her skin.
...
It was fine. Probably.
She’s been avoiding this for a long time, now, staring down at the fact that there is nothing she could do that would ever make her happy again. Lucia is a creature dependent on interaction. Her identity is a thing forged both by herself and the countless identities surrounding her, bleeding into her. One day, she knew that bleeding would stop, and she’ll be emptied out. That everybody she ever loved would die, and nobody would replace them. Reyna said it once that a part of her couldn’t help but think about how burying one’s parents is a part of life, that it felt like nature’s cruel and inherent design. Now she would have to bury her sister, too. Now her parents would have to bury a daughter.
No conclusion would ever wrap her story up. No singular scene, quote, anything.
And she’s fine with that.
Maybe.
It was too late to think anything else now.
...
...
The flies that had chewed their way through her friends now lay on her skin.
...
It was fine. Probably.