The Edge of Hopelessness

[Catche Jagger]

((Nathan Kirchhoff: Start))

Since waking up, much of Nathan’s day had gone by in a daze. The the details of the world around him blurred as colors and shapes melded together as to become indistinguishable. He had simply wandered about, directionless, guitar and backpack slung over his shoulders. That is, until he came to the fence. It was just twelve feet high, but that seemed like miles from where Nathan was standing.

Falling to his knees, only one thought crossed his mind: I’m going to die here.

He was trapped in this village with a host of other students, all tasked with killing him (and each other) and what had he been given to fight with? A goddamn guitar!

Was this some kind of sick fucking joke? He wanted to scream out at whoever might be watching from outside the fence, watching the shit they were putting him through, but his scream was trapped in his throat as tears streamed from his eyes. He desperately wanted it to not be real. He didn’t want to die.

Oh God, he didn’t want to die like this, on his knees and sobbing and begging for his life. It wasn’t right.

Every inch of his body seemed to weigh a ton as he tried to will himself back to his feet. He could do this, he could-

Nathan’s leg shook violently and then buckled underneath him, bringing him back to the hard earth below.

He’d watched the Program before and knew what it meant for someone to be put here. He curled up close to himself for some sort of comfort, eyes still red and wet from tears. Nathan shivered. What the hell was he going to do?

[UnmaskedMountain]

Miguel Iguarez: Start

Miguel was defeated. An entire day attempting to escape have proved to be fruitless, which left him only one option - Compete in the game. The idea was sickening, but he knew how the programme worked. Only true patriots survived.

His parents had done a lot for him, guaranteed him a good future, and there was no way he could waste that and shame them now. If he did play the game, he would play to win. Hopefully, though, he wouldn't have to go to that extent.

At least, Miguel thought, as he reached inside his backpack, he had an alright melee weapon, two curved knives that he didn't really recognize. Either way, they were sharp and he was confident that he could defend themselves with them. He'd known other students in the past had got novelty items, like candles and picture frames, so he was lucky in that regard. Miguel couldn't smile, though, as he still felt laced with bitterness and anxiety.

Miguel was still partially in shock that he had been selected, because being selected never happened to you. The selected were always some random class from Ohio, or Iowa, or Arkansas. But, it was too late now. If he dwelled on these things for too long, he would just lose even more faith in his situation.

Miguel remembered a quote he'd once heard, "Whether you believe you can do a thing or not, you are right." It was valid, and thus Miguel knew he had to stay strong to survive. But first things first, he needed an ally, because of the idea of safety in numbers.

Miguel called out, in what he hoped to be a  firm voice, praying to God it was someone he was friends with and not Scott Whitman or another of those military freaks. Miguel shivered, and called out once more, anticipating a possible ally.

After that, Miguel waited. He was tired, and cold, but he knew his situation could be worse. The only thing that he focussed on in his mind was survival.

[Catche Jagger]

Nathan was woken from his panic by a voice calling out. Despite the fact that that, whoever it was, they sounded close, Nathan hadn’t actually picked up what was being said. Now came the choice: lay down and wait for them to go away or find him, or defend himself.

Maybe he wasn’t giving the owner of the mysterious voice enough credit. Maybe… Maybe they weren’t playing. Maybe they needed help with a plan to escape. The thought help encourage Nathan to slowly lift himself from the ground, eventually managing to stand fully upright.

It was equally possible, however, that this stranger could just be planning to lure Nathan out for a quick and easy kill. The first announcement had yet to come up, so all the players- all the killers, still got to remain anonymous. The thought made his legs tremble slightly and he worried they might give way underneath him, but he fought through it.

Still, as a measure of self-defence, he unslung his guitar and held it up like some sort of lopsided baseball bat.

He must have looked fucking ridiculous.

Scanning the nearby area, Nathan caught sight of a student just a few yards away. It was a guy, he could tell that much, and he seemed to have something in his hands.

Nathan’s first instinct had been to call out that he wasn’t playing, but if this guy was a killer, that’d just be inviting him to come over and blow Nathan’s brains out, right? If he was going to do this he needed to be cautious.

Lowering his guitar slightly, Nathan called back, “H-Hey! Who are you?”

[UnmaskedMountain]

A voice cut through the silence. Miguel spun, noticing an effeminate boy he'd occasionally seen around school. What was his name again? Nathan? Miguel didn't know, but at least the boy didn't appear to be dangerous. Miguel glanced up at him, trying to push down his anxiety as he opened his lips to speak.

"It's Miguel - Miguel Iguarez. You sit in front of me in English, I think. Are you friendly?"

Miguel attempted to hide the tremor in his voice, praying that the kid would be a friend rather than a foe. Regardless, it had been his decision to call out to the boy and there was utterly no chance for him to turn back now. Miguel wasn't exactly a swift runner, and the boy would undoubtedly catcch up to him. If it was a foe, though, was it better to hide his weapon for a surprise attack or hold it proudly to ward off any potential attacks. After a second of thought, he fumbled to stick them both in his pocket, with the handle slightly out so he could grab if it he had to.

The boy's emo aesthetic worried Miguel, as it suggested to him that potentially there might be something wrong with them mentally, but he didn't have any options other than to converse with them. Probably not, though. Hopefully not.

Miguel's eyes darted around the boy, as he inspected the guitar. It probably wasn't lethal, but it could most certainly do a great deal of damage. Miguel gulped, worrying about the most negative outcomes of the scenario, maybe even ending in his death. It wasn't like he could avoid death anyway, but at least if this guy was an ally he would have a fighting chance.

[Catche Jagger]

"It's Miguel - Miguel Iguarez. You sit in front of me in English, I think. Are you friendly?"

How the hell was Nathan supposed to remember if this guy sat behind him in English class? Trying to remember his face was only drawing a blank, but did it really matter out here?

“Oh, yeah, I think I remember you.” He replied, ignoring the question asked of him for the moment as he saw this- Miguel attempt to nervously and quickly slip something into his pocket. Shit, was that a weapon? Craning his neck, Nathan tried to catch a glance of whatever the new guy was hiding, but it had already half vanished into his deep pockets.

After the awkward silence that came with Nathan’s little investigation, his eyes snapped back to Miguel’s face, anxiously searching for any sign of murderous intent. He let his guitar rise slightly again in a desperate attempt to intimidate the kid. “I’m friendly if you’re friendly.” He spoke up, slowly stepping forward, creeping closer and closer to Miguel.

When he was just a couple steps away he spoke up again. “What’s that you’re hiding?” he asked, trying to sound tough and in control, rather than the nervous wreck he felt like.

[UnmaskedMountain]

Miguel let out a deep breath, as the boy, Nathan, raised his guitar. The response wasn't exactly positive, although at least it was a start. However, Nathan's inspection of his weapon did not bode well for the future of his situation. Analyzing him, Miguel was pretty sure that he could kill him if he had to, as the guitar could only really cause death by blunt force trauma.

Miguel watched as Nathan slowly advanced towards him, trying to ignore his terror as the tough-sounding boy loomed over him. Upon Nathan's question, though, it confirmed Miguel's suspicion. Much like he had done, Nathan was presumably attempting to work out who would win out of them in a fight - Although, Miguel pondered, could anyone really blame them. Again, that only set off alarms for Miguel's chances of survival.

He looked him directly in the eye, and spoke as firmly as he could, stating, "Nothing that matters to you if you're as friendly as you say." Miguel liked the sound of that. It was similar to the theatrics he'd practiced back at school and it gave him a brief sense of escapism, as well as the added ambiguity and ominousness of the sentence, which he desperately hoped would scare the boy off from a possible attack.

As a countermeasure for Nathan's advances, Miguel stepped backwards slightly, as Nathan would soon be at a range where he could swing the guitar downwards into him. That thought didn't reassure him. Miguel watched Nathan intently, before speaking once more, "So, uh, do you want to maybe team up?"

God, Miguel hoped that wasn't a mistake.

[Catche Jagger]

Was… Was this guy fucking serious? He was going to ask to team up even though he refused to share whatever he was hiding. It was settled. This guy was either extremely stupid, or dead set on killing Nathan as soon as he got the chance.

Now, Nathan had to make a choice. Was he going to wait for this guy to pull out his pistol or whatever he had, or was going to strike first and save himself?

He began to step to his right, hoping to circle toward Miguel’s left side and get a better view of whatever he was hiding. The guitar trembled slightly in his hands as he looked over his would-be killer.

What if he was wrong? What if he was about to do the wrong thing? Miguel could be hiding that he had some shitty weapon so that he wouldn’t seem like an easy target.

“You’ve seen mine. Show me yours.” He said, his tough facade cracking, as this demand was raspy, annoyed.

Nathan’s thoughts weren’t running clearly. It was going to be fight or flight in a couple seconds.

He took another step.

[UnmaskedMountain]

Miguel was beginning to panic. Hell, he had been panicking for a while. Still, that was not the reaction he had anticipated. Nathan didn't at all seem to be invested in a potential alliance, so his early decision to call out for allies have proved completely stupid after all. Miguel refrained from expressing his worry, though, as that might give the opportunity for the guy to strike. No, Miguel was smarter than that.

Miguel's eyes followed Nathan's movements - It wasn't as if the boy was exactly subtle. Instinctively, Miguel reached for his weapon. He didn't particularly intend to use it, merely shift it to further hide it from view. There was also the added benefit of Nathan possibly being scared by his movements, and even possibly giving Miguel a window for escape.

No, that was too good to be true. Miguel went through his options one more time in his head. He could either attack the boy, run or just show him the weapon. Maybe showing him the weapon was the smart thing to do?

It would certainly be complying with the boy's statement, and if the guitar was Nathan's only weapon then surely he would be intimidated by Miguel's knives. Or so he hoped.

Weighing up the options in his head, the only outcome he wanted led his decision. He had wished for allies, so he guessed he kind of got what he was after. Even if Nathan wasn't exactly who Miguel had hoped for.

Impulsively, Miguel brandished his knife. He hadn't really thought that it could be perceived as threatening until seconds later, but it was too late to put it back. Miguel nervously remained steadforth in his choice.

[Catche Jagger]

Nathan had hoped that the kid would either calmly pull whatever it was out of his pocket and display it for Nathan to see or just run off. Instead, Miguel had quickly snatched something shiny and metallic from his pants and began to brandish it in the air.

It was a knife, and not just any knife. This was some weird, kung-fu looking knife.

Immediately perceiving this to be some sign of attack, Nathan acted on instinct and quickly took two large strides towards Miguel, closing the distance between them. Then, he brought his unorthodox weapon down in a diagonal sweep.

A thousand thoughts flew through his mind, prime among them the question of why he hadn’t just run while he had the chance.

It was then that he saw that his strike had come up just a hair short.

"Shit."

[UnmaskedMountain]

Whatever Miguel had been expecting, it was not that. Nathan had rapidly swung down the guitar in front of him, narrowly smashing him into what would have most definitely been a concussion, if not death. Miguel let out a gasp in shock as he staggered backwards, thanking god that at least he was holding his knives.

He quickly slipped his hands into both of them, hoping that his assumption that they were meant to be used as claws was correct. He wasn't as fast as Nathan, though, but he knew that his only desperate attempt to win this fight could only consist of him getting close enough to strike without being smashed to death with the guitar.

To be honest, the whole conversation had only increased Miguel's melancholy, as it proved that people were actually playing the game. That was the worst possible event.

Maybe he could run. No, that monster, Nathan, would almost certainly follow him and slaughter him where he stood. His only bet was to kill Nathan here and now.

With that in mind, Miguel lunged - Hoping that Nathan wouldn't expect him to attack back.

One thing was for certain in Miguel's mind - He would not die here, even if it meant he would have to resort to murder.

[Catche Jagger]

After Nathan’s attack failed, he tried to stagger backwards, to regroup. The guitar was big and unwieldy, and trying to maneuver with it definitely slowed him down. He had barely managed to regain his balance when he saw Miguel charging headlong into him, now hold a second of those weird knives in his other hand.

Nathan raised his free arm reflexively to defend himself, only for feel a sharp pain across his forearm as one of the knives met its mark.

He managed to get his knee up in an attempt to land a hit to his attacker’s gut or crotch, anything that might allow him to get a bit of distance. However, as he made contact, he felt another stab of pain coming from his thigh.

“You rat fuckin bastard!” He grunted in pain, gripping his guitar ever more tightly and readying another swing. This time, he didn’t plan on missing.

[UnmaskedMountain]

All in all, considering his previous doubts, the struggle was going surprisingly well for Miguel. He had managed to cut Nathan in his arm and thigh withouth sustaining any wounds himself. He couldn't really credit himself for these minor victories, as if the situations were reversed then Nathan would surely have finished him off already. Hell, Miguel wasn't even sure if he could lift that Guitar high enough, and swing it with enough power to even cause a significant impact.

Well, it didn't matter, Miguel had received the superior weapon and he was glad. I mean, it wasn't like the programme was meant to be fair anyway. Nathan had just drawn the short straw, and would pay harshly for it.

Despite the recent success of the situation though, Miguel had focussed too much on where he could strike Nathan and not his opponent's quickly rising electric guitar. Miguel swiftly exhaled in surprise, and attempted to sprint backwards. It was to no avail. Miguel stood no chance as the larger boy swung down his weapon brutally onto his skull.

The weapon smashed into Miguel, launching him directly onto the floor. His head stung harshly and instinctively he placed his hand on the injury. The seeping blood confirmed everything he needed to know.

Miguel was exhausted and angry, determined to make his enemy pay. He wished to inflict as much damage as possible onto Nathan, as quickly as possible. With that in mind, Miguel tried to clamber to his feet. However, as he moved, his vision wobbled and he felt extremely dizzy. Blood dripped from his head wound onto his face, providing a cool contrast to his heated body.

Agh, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to move. Miguel felt disoriented, and his brain was hurting immensely.

Where was he again? The Programme? That was right, he'd been selected for the programme. But, then what?

Miguel strained to remember, but all he felt was pain.

[Catche Jagger]

Nathan’s guitar broke apart as it smashed into Miguel’s skull. His heart stopped for a brief instant.

He’d just destroyed his own weapon.

In that instant he felt so incredibly small, so incredibly helpless. What remained of his joke of a weapon slipped from his grip. The wounds in his arm and leg burned and he knew that there would be no escape. He knew that Miguel must be readying himself to-

Then he saw the blood start to seep from the kid’s head as he fell backwards onto the ground. Though he tried to return to his feet, he seemed too disoriented, too weak. This might just be Nathan’s only chance.

His first reaction was to kick Miguel square in the chest. Though this would keep his opponent down, he had of course done it with his injured leg, causing him to fall over in pain. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, he fell directly onto his assailant.

Nathan wasted no time in scrambling to reach for some sort of weapon, any weapon. He couldn’t seem to see or feel the knives in his arms reach. Maybe the kid had dropped them? Damn it.

Finally, his hand managed to latch onto something. It was a fairly sizable rock that remained just within his arm’s reach. Taking it in his uninjured hand, he closed his eyes tightly and raised it above his head, before bringing it crashing down.

THUD





He’d missed. Nathan had been stupid to close his eyes, and he knew it. He knew that if he wanted to save himself he’d have to witness the consequences of his actions, his failure to just run away. Miguel had begun to move even in his messed up state, raising his arms in a feeble show of defense.

If Nathan was going to do this, if he was going to do what he needed to do, he had to do it now. He stared down at the kid stuck underneath him. The thought of what he was about to do made bile start to rise in his throat, but he couldn’t get sick. Not yet.

He lifted the rock above his head once more, holding it with both hands this time. His eyes never left Miguel’s face as he brought the rock down again... and again, and again, and again....




CRACK


CRACK


CRACK


CRUNCH

[UnmaskedMountain]

Miguel's eyes remained glazed over, as he struggled desperately to figure out what had happened to him to cause his head to be in such agony. He could barely process any thoughts while he was like this. He was panicking, and he needed to get out.

Wherever Miguel was, he didn't want to be there anymore. He knew that, at least.

He tried to scramble backwards, but the cold stone path was rough and sharp under his hands. He briefly saw shadows above him, before he felt a harsh kick to his chest. Once again, he bent backwards and drop flat to the ground. In mania, his eyes fluttered fully open, just in time to view his assailant to fall over him.

The weight of Nathan was already crushing Miguel, and combined with the suffering sustained in his skull, the agony and panic muted every other emotion he previously felt.

For a swift second, Miguel watched Nathan move his arms away, and Miguel wishfully thought, or at least hoped, that he might actually survive this. He could hide, escape the island, run home to his parents. If they wouldn't accept him for his escape, then someone would. Surely, somewhere, there was resistance to the programme.

The thought was cut short by his enemy swinging down their  arms. Miguel braced himself for the inevitable strike, but when it didn't come, Miguel re-opened his eyes, and lifted up his feeble, weakened arms in defence.

He struggled to open his eyes, but all he saw when he did was a flash of grey before he felt another wound in his skull.

Miguel attempted to scream, but nothing left his throat, even after he felt injury after injury from his enemy.

Miguel released a cough, as a trickle of blood dripped onto his tongue.

Even in his last moments, Miguel couldn't open his eyes. He was restricted from speaking.

Thus, as Nathan's rock came down for the last time, Miguel only felt torment.

M40 - Iguarez, Miguel - Deceased

[Catche Jagger]

Nathan hadn’t stopped smashing his rock into what remained of Miguel’s face, even as it was clear that the boy was dead. He couldn’t stop, he was running off of adrenaline now. Again and again, he slammed the large stone into a corpse, which in turn would release a horrid spray of blood and brains and bone and who knows what else.

Finally the pain from the cut in his arm forced him to release the stone and simply look down at the kid’s face, at the damage he had wrought. It wasn’t much of a face anymore, seeming more like a bloody fleshy crater attached to a body. Nathan felt a surge of bile rise up his throat, and this time he didn’t fight back. He fell to his side and began to vomit on the ground.

So many feelings rushed through his mind that it was impossible to process them all, disgust, regret, fear, rage, pain... it was too much. Trembling, Nathan couldn’t help but look back at Miguel’s body, perhaps to make sure that what had happened had really happened, he wasn’t really sure why.

Surely enough, Miguel was still there, and still dead. The fucker who’d forced Nathan’s hand, who had made him a killer, was gone. That’s right, it was in self-defense. The idiot left me no choice… Nathan considered, his anger taking hold again.

“Motherfucker!” Nathan screamed, violently kicking the corpse as he lay on the ground next to it. The gesture brought little in the way of relief, but he had to do something. He felt so… so helpless.

“Damn it!” he shouted, driving his uninjured fist into the ground, hot tears beginning to stream down his face.

~~~

Nathan had just laid there on the ground, crying, waiting for someone to just come around and finish him off. After a while, though, he remained alone.

Eventually, he sat up, taking a deep breath as he did. Maybe I’m not ready to die just yet.

Before he did anything else, though, he knew he’d have to take a look at those wounds he’d gotten in the fight. The cut on his right forearm wasn’t actually all that bad; the blade had cut a long gash across his skin, but it hadn’t gone very deep at all. The stab wound to his thigh turned out to be a different story altogether.

Though he hadn’t noticed the action during the fight, it seemed that Miguel had gotten him good, driving the blade deep into his flesh. The pain was so immense that Nathan struggled to get back to his feet.

He seemed a hopeless case. He was injured and weaponless, alone and covered in blood, brains, and bile. It seemed, however, that some part of him wasn’t willing to die just yet. He’d probably already been through some of the worst shit he’d see here and he’d made it out alive, after all. Well, he didn’t entirely believe that, but he had to do… something.

Glancing around the area, Nathan caught sight of something made that faint hope feel validated: the weird kung-fu knives. Carefully stepping over to them and reaching to the ground, Nathan took both knives in his hands, a smile finally made its way across his lips. Those same knives that were being used to attack him moments ago might now be the only things that would keep him alive.

The wheels in Nathan’s head began to turn. This… didn’t need to be the end for him. If he could find some body of water - a pool or access to the sea or something - then washed himself off and bandaged his wounds, he could get himself looking presentable. Then he’d have to find a group or something, since he certainly wasn’t going to go far alone now. He could talk to them, explain that what he did was self-defense and… and…

It all seemed so far-fetched. Wasn’t he just sobbing about how hopeless this all was just a while earlier? He glanced over at the corpse of his would-be assailant and felt himself start to feel sick again. Whatever else that fucking kid had done to him, he’d given him a sense of direction. Whether that was from the adrenaline high or the pain in his arm and leg or some sincere epiphany, he wasn’t sure.

However, as he limped away, Nathan Kirchhoff was sure of one thing: He wanted to live.

((Nathan Kirchhoff continued in Putting Humpty Together Again))