There And Back Again

[Maraoone]

He stood there again for a long time. He couldn't leave. He shouldn't. But, there really weren't any more words. There really was nothing he could do any more.

He shouldn't have come here.

He took in the view of Soren, staring into the pits. Soren, stick-thin, red on his clothes. It wasn't the view either of them deserved. But it was all he would have. Finally, he stepped back a bit.

"Take care of yourself," Johnny said quietly. Soren probably wouldn't do so, but it had to be said anyways.

He pivoted on his feet, and left the tar pits.

((Johnny Lancer continues in Your Bones))

[jimmydalad]

((Saachi Nidal continued from Shoulder of Orion))

Saachi found it too difficult to return to Bunny. What could she say to her? That she was the one that sent Miranda to her death? The only reason that they went out in the first place was that she was restless and needed to kill someone for her own safety? Though she did not deal the killing blow, she still found it difficult to shake off the guilt that came with her close friend's death. Even when she tried to rationalise her way out of it, made excuses as to why she came to the decisions, she still found a way to bring it all back to her. That it was her fault that Miranda was dead.

The treatment of her crossbow wound was sloppy, but at least it was better than nothing. Without having much experience in dealing with such wounds, she mostly just doused the injury in antiseptic and then wrapped it up in bandages. She gritted her teeth through the tears of her lost friend and pain as she worked on it the previous day. While the result looked messy and still ached, it was better than leaving it alone to get infected.

Even with the pain from the crossbow incident, it was the anguish that kept Saachi from sleeping. Whenever she tried to close her eyes, she'd see Miranda. As she tried to lie there and let her exhaustion overwhelm her, her heart would wrench and twist as she tried to come to terms with the events that happened that day. It always came back to her. That it was her fault. She tossed and turned, disturbing the leaves around her and causing more dirt and grime to cling to her ruined clothes. It felt like eons passed before her exhastion became overwhelming and she was granted the sweet embrace of sleep.

- - - - -

It could only last a moment, however, as she was immediately woken up by the announcement. She continued to lie there, her eyes open as she listened to the announcement. She found it hard to care about all the other names, only listening for whoever killed Miranda. Luckily for her, it turned out to be Scarlett after all. She thought she'd be happier that she took revenge on the one who took Miranda's life, though she couldn't shake off the fact that it was her that lead Miranda to that conflict in the first place. Kyran being dead was a nice bonus, however. That cheered her up a little.

Once the announcements were finished, Saachi begrudgingly got up. As much as she wanted to continue sleeping, she knew that the others would be awake and would be more than happy to off her if she was caught sleeping. She refused to let that happen. She had to survive and win. Make it day by day until she was the last one standing. No matter what, Saachi had to live.

In the end, living was all she had left. She was almost a zombie at this point, motivated by nothing more than a base instinct to survive. She certainly felt like one. A mixture of emotional strife and lack of sleep made her feel sluggish and empty. Her feet dragged with each step as she had to push herself to stay awake and focused and dark bags had made themselves comfortable at the bottom of her eyes. Everything felt difficult. Moving, thinking, planning. But no matter how difficult things were, she needed to do them. She needed to make it all mean something. Make everything that she discarded and all the lives she took be justified.

Her victory would be that justification.

She hadn't really thought about where she was going. She just knew she needed to move. The shotgun hung loosely at her side, hovering just above the ground to prevent it from dragging. Eventually, she managed to break through the treeline and was immediately greeted with an assault on the senses. Oh, this must be the tar pits, huh? Had Saachi been here before? Probably not. She would've remembered the smell. Then again, the days all started to blur together for her, punctuated with each murder she committed. It was hard for her to pick out specific memories. Everything felt so distant and blurry.

Her eyes fell upon the sight of a boy. She believed Soren was his name. Whatever it was, it was mostly irrelevant. She didn't really want to deal with people right now. In fact, she wanted to do nothing more than just stew on her emotions. To that end, she raised her gun and aimed it at Soren's chest.

"Leave. Now."

Her voice was lifeless but her eyes and arms were focused. It didn't really make that much of a difference to her whether he lived or not, so hopefully, he wasn't feeling too brave. She'd hate to waste a bullet just to get some peace.

[Skraal]

Soren had no idea how long he had remained in this place since Johnny left. The sun had by now risen high in the sky, and the announcements had come and went. More friends, fellow classmates, who had by now shuffled off this mortal coil. As if to be an additional stab in the gut, Yumi’s name was there, spoken mockingly by Danya’s taunting voice. The strangest part of it all, was the numbness that the revelation left behind. He had been playing out this scenario in his head almost constantly since she ran away from him all those days ago, expecting to feel devastated. But now...all he could feel was a cold loneliness. He was the only one of his friends left alive, besides Johnny, and with the way Johnny was going it didn’t seem like he’d be around much longer…

The sound of a figure bursting out of the trees interrupted his ruminations, causing his head to immediately swivel around to see who the intruder was. The sight caused his whole body to freeze in terror as he found himself face to face with Saachi Nidal, who of all his classmates definitely deserved the title of most prolific killer. He stared forward at her, her movements occurring almost in slow motion. She raised her gun at him. Asked him to leave.

Making a run for it would probably be the smartest option. He wasn’t armed, and even if he was, he was in no shape for a fight. However, that wasn’t what he was going to do.

Soren was tired of running. For the past week, that was all he had been doing, starting from when he abandoned Paris back at these very tar pits. It was now or never. For once in his life, it was time to stand up for himself, and not be a coward. He didn’t care what it was going to cost him. It wasn’t like he had anything left to live for anyway. His quiet response nevertheless seemed to echo across the area, continuing to ring in his years for what felt like ages after it had left his mouth.

“No.”

[jimmydalad]

"I don't have time for this."

Saachi fired the gun straight at Soren's chest.

[Skraal]

Soren fell backwards, his body feeling as if he had been kicked by a mule. He lay there for a few moments, feeling altogether rather confused. It wasn't that he didn't realize he was shot, only an idiot would have missed that. What was strange was that he didn't seem to be in nearly as much pain as he expected. A sputtering cough forced its way out past his lips, spraying a splatter of blood across the lower half of Soren's face. His attempts to take a breath were met with yet another throatful of blood, the burning in his chest rising in intensity. It wouldn't be long now until he finally went to meet his maker.

A black fog began to creep across the edges of his vision as he stared up at the girl standing over him, a thin wisp of smoke wafting upwards from the barrel of her gun.  What she had done was wrong, of course, but... he understood why she did it. She was scared, and in a place like this, it was a wonder that more people didn't give in to the temptation to kill. He knew this was going to happen from the very first day he arrived, and while it would be untrue to say that he wasn't more than a little afraid of what was to come, it was a relief to finally find the peace that had eluded him for so long.

As Saachi's face faded from view, the world going entirely dark, a familiar phrase entered his thoughts. Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.. It was fitting. He hoped that Saachi would eventually find some sort of peace, one way or another.

B024: Soren Rosendahl - DECEASED

[jimmydalad]

Saachi's face was unmoving as she watched Soren die. She probably should've felt something. After all, taking someone's life was considered by some to be the ultimate crime. At the very least, it was one of the worst things a human could do. However, what originally started as something momentous became routine for her. She had constantly told herself that trying to transplant the rules of the outside world to the island was a pointless endeavour and merely a coping mechanism. For the most part, she still believed as such. She still considered the island a completely different entity to the world she used to live in. Yet, at the back of her mind, she couldn't completely shake the idea that something was wrong with her thought processes. Maybe she had indeed gone too far down the rabbit hole. Would one be able to know if they had truly lost their sanity?

Any squeamishness she had in dealing with dead bodies had now vanished as she began to search Soren for anything useful. At first, she came up short. It was such a pointless kill. Saachi couldn't help but lament the fact that Soren didn't need to die as she found nothing useful on his person. Not even a weapon. Granted, she didn't need to kill him but she gave him the opportunity to leave. His resistance, as pathetic as it was, was enough to sign his death warrant. In all honesty, what could she have done? Soren didn't want to leave and she didn't want to have to deal with him. She might as well nip the bud before it bloomed into something insurmountable.

Saachi felt numb as she began to search his bag. She recognised that she should be feeling more than she should, but everything felt muted. Like she was slightly disconnected to the world around her. Her searching was not as fervorous as it had been with her previous kills. She wasn't really expecting to find anything. Maybe his weapon, cause she didn't find it on him, but nothing significant. Why didn't he have a weapon on him? Was he confident, stupid or lucky? Maybe she should've asked that before she killed him. Ah well.

While she didn't find a weapon, she did find bullets. Lots of them. That was certainly odd. Where was the gun? Saachi was pensive for a second, wondering whether Soren was dumb enough to ditch the gun while keeping the bullets. Probably not. Did that mean the gun was taken from him? That was a thought. Her mind drifted towards the gun she took of Jason. The one that had no bullets. That felt like so long ago. Still, there was no harm in at least attempting to load it. Rummaging in her bag, she took out the empty pistol. Then, she took a bullet from Soren's bag and tried to load it into the gun.

Jason must've taken the gun from Soren.

Things started to click into place. At most, Jason would've had 6 bullets to use if the gun was fully loaded. It was no wonder it was empty by the time she had it. As she continued to load bullets into the barrel, a small grin formed on the corners of Saachi's mouth. At least Soren's death wasn't completely pointless. Now she had another weapon to add to her arsenal. She still preferred the shotgun, but at least she had something to fall back onto in a dire situation.

Tucking the pistol back into her bag, Saachi turned her attention back to Soren's dead body. It probably would stink if she just left it alone and that was something she'd rather not deal with. It was an unpleasantness that she was unable to avoid. At least he'd be easier to dispose of than the others. She'd never have to see his face again once it sunk beneath the tar. It could be like a burial, but without all the unecessary effort that would have to go into it.

Saachi nudged Soren's body, at first kicking him forward before sitting next to him and pushing him into the tar. It was oddly peaceful, watching Soren's body slowly sink into the depths, never to be seen again. Saachi calmly watched the body sink, continuing to stew on her numbed emotions that had carried over from the previous day. She didn't really feel like talking or making a scene or attracting attention to herself. She just wanted time to herself, time to spend in her own thoughts as she thought about how she would proceed and deal with the pain that had been inflicted on her yesterday. Without Miranda back home, what did she really have? She never really thought about it, up until now.

Saachi continued to stare over the tar pits long after Soren had completely vanished. Bag by her side and shotgun laying next to her, she curled into a ball as she watched the bubbling black liquid, trapped in her own little world.

[Wham Yubeesling]

There was this… character, in a play Maxwell had used to enjoy.

The play was Richard III. The character was the Duke of Buckingham. Maxwell honestly didn't know why he was thinking about this now of all times, but he was. His mind — his body — was moving along on its own, and at this point Maxwell couldn't even begin to guess where it was going, what it was planning on doing. That wasn't what mattered, though. The character — The Duke of Buckingham, Richard III — was what was important, for some reason. His role within the play was… the accomplice. The enabler. He did nothing of his own will. He just worked for Richard. Lied, cheated, stole, did whatever he needed to to stay as Richard's right hand man.. He was a rat. He was a lowlife. He only tried to fulfill his own selfish needs and only buckled because he didn't have the courage to truly go to the morally wrong side.

He was similar to Maxwell, in a way. The details — the certainty of their actions — were different, but the idea of the archetype was basically the same.

...Maxwell supposed he knew how it was going to end for him, now.

He could see her, in the distance.

Curled up in a ball, the body of her latest victim having only just sunk into the tar. Soren, Maxwell assumed. It didn't really matter regardless. A body was a body, at this point. One less person who needed to die if this game were to end. It was true that Maxwell was… somewhat acquainted with him, Paris might have mentioned him when the two of them were on the cliffs, but the details didn't matter. All that did was the fact that he was dead, and all that did was the fact that Maxwell had lasted longer than one more person more deserving. One more person who had probably done a lot more good than him. One more person Maxwell should have taken the place of.

It still didn't matter, though.

Because he could see her in the distance.

The person who had killed the highest number of his classmates. The person who had helped kill Lyndi. The person who had killed Ramona while he watched, eager for the chance to have a conversation with her. Eager for the chance to act like himself, bluster up, give that overly prideful image. Eager to make promises he hadn't kept, say that he was the one who would end this game, make sure she didn't win.

It seemed fitting that she would be the one who ended it.

He breathed.

Balled his fists.

Took his steps on his own, for the first time today, as he headed towards his executioner.

"Saachi."

Come, soldier, take him to the block of shame.

Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

[jimmydalad]

A familiar voice brought her out of her maze of thoughts, her head turning in the first movement she had done in what felt like hours. It was odd for her to see Maxwell and her feelings were complicated. She knew she should despise him. He did declare his intentions to kill her when they last met. While there was that defensive nature inside of her that wanted to just pull the trigger, she held back. She noticed his clenched fists and the lack of the weapon. Was he going to be yet another Soren?

"Hello, Maxwell," Saachi called out coolly, pushing herself off the ground while picking up the shotgun laid next to her. Her face remained impassive as he made his approach. The gun lay loosely by her leg, dangling off her tips of her fingers. She looked more annoyed than anything else. It was hard for her at the moment to muster significant emotions of hatred or anger even to someone who deserved it. She gestured over towards the tar pits.

"If you're wondering about Soren, he forced my hand. I gave him the option to leave and he didn't take it. I wasn't just going to let him kill me."

When it came to Maxwell, she found honesty to be the best policy. He was never going to come to her side. She'd be foolish to even entertain the notion. Instead, she felt that stating her intentions was probably a better way to get him off her back. She knew she should be ready to play the game at any time, but she still wanted time to grieve. Get time to adjust her emotions without having to deal with someone trying to kill her. As she wondered about her bad luck, she remembered that the danger zones were decided by Danya. That probably was the case. There probably was a force greater than luck that was forcing them together and there was nothing she could do about it.

She tilted her head slightly, looking down and letting out a soft sigh to herself. She raised her gun and pointed it at Maxwell, her eyes flitting towards him.

"I'd rather not have to waste another bullet and I want to be alone right now. Is that too much to ask?"

It was more of a rhetorical question than anything. Of course, it was too much to ask. If things went Danya's way, there'd always be action. The cameras were an indicator as such. She wasn't in the mood to make good television, however. That was never her intention.

"If you have any sense, just leave. Now."

[Wham Yubeesling]

…

Saachi was surprisingly straightforward.

Sadly, that was not what Maxwell was looking for.

"What makes you think I have any?"

[jimmydalad]

"Cause you're better than that." Saachi curtly responded, keeping the gun trained on Maxwell. She probably should just shoot him and get this whole thing over with. There was something holding her back, that little voice came back again. Maxwell couldn't die like this.

"You're not like Soren. You're smarter than that. You can think, plan and recognised how fucked up this situation is."

Saachi paused.

"If anyone is lacking sense by this point, it'd probably be me. I've thrown away everything to the point where all I have left is the drive to survive. I don't even know if I'm sane anymore. You're better than that. In a way, you're probably better than me. I don't want to have to kill you, but if you don't leave, you give me no choice. After all, I don't want to die. It's too late for me to do anything else."

Miranda's death gave her an insight into the island that she never had. She had never had to lose someone close to her before. Jay was an ally, but he was also an asshole that tried to kill her. Losing Miranda revealed the harsh reality of just how monstrous she was. How much anguish she had caused others on and off the island and how far down she had truly gone. She knew, however, that this was the road she had to travel, no matter how many regrets she had. In the end, she had to win and had to survive for it all to be justified. For all the deaths she caused to make sense. For there to be a reason for why she gave up everything.

At the same time, she wondered whether she even deserved to live anymore.

[Wham Yubeesling]

"I think you misunderstand me."

Did Saachi... really think that Maxwell was capable? Did Saachi really think Maxwell was one of the more logical people on this island?

...Well, maybe he had succeeded in coming off that way. Given how everyone had flocked around him up until now, given how everyone seemed to look up to him as some sort of leader, he supposed that maybe he had at least done something here.

Maybe not the right thing, but something nonetheless.

"What if my plan is to not leave?"

[jimmydalad]

"Then you must have a death wish, after all."

As Saachi moved to pull the trigger, she spotted something glinting in the woods behind her. Her eyes opened wide in shock as a crossbow bolt whizzed past Maxwell and was flying straight at her. Instinctually, Saachi threw herself onto the floor as the projectile flew over her head and landed in the tar pit. In her rush, she lost her grip on the shotgun that went tumbling on the ground next to her.

She kept herself low to the ground for a second, waiting for another bolt to fly out from the treeline. She knew more would be coming. After all, there was only one person on the island she knew who had a crossbow.

Chuck.

[General Goose]

Chuck stepped into view. He had been listening for a while. And it was a relief, in the end, that she had choreographed her own actions. That she had given warnings.

Tiredness, Chuck reckoned. Not mercy. You didn't develop a sense of mercy now. Not at this stage.

He had heard the gun blast. Arrived in earshot to hear Saachi talking about another bullet. Didn't know what Saachi had done, couldn't see a body. But he heard mention of Soren. Feared the worst.

Chuck should have used the AK. He knew that now. No room for sentimentality, no room for antiquated notions of fair play, no reason to give such a murderous knave the dignity of a warning shot. But he hadn't. Chuck could have construed some retroactive strategic rationale for his decision to eschew bullets - the fear of recoil, a desire not to hit Maxwell, an experience with the familiar - but really, it was because he wasn't comfortable with killing just yet.

And as Saachi jumped to the ground, Maxwell saved without any loss of life, Chuck was, silently, relieved.

But that relief soon gave way to frustration. Frustration at his own weakness. He just couldn't understand her thinking. He had heard how she now operated with such perverse and warped concepts of what politeness meant, of what standing one's ground meant. It even offended Chuck, goaded his moral compass, at how she dared to talk about wasting bullets.

In a way, if rescue did arrive now, if the raging inferno had succeeded in alerting the authorities, then Saachi's story could be some kind of new chapter in psychological research, the magnum opus of the next Zimbardo or Milgram. But that wasn't feasible. That wasn't a reason to allow her to keep on inflicting carnage, to carry on cutting short the promising lives of her peers.

And so he walked forward, with the AK now, with a purposeful stride, aiming the barrel squarely at Saachi. Had to remind himself, constantly, not to dehumanise her. Not to think of this as putting down a rabid animal.

"You've done enough, Saachi," he announced, his Cajun accent thick, hiding the shaking in his voice.

[Wham Yubeesling]

Honestly, Maxwell had expected the gun to go up at that.

It… wasn't really preferrable, it wasn't really ideal that he died before he actually did anything to Saachi, but then again, he supposed that too was expected. He supposed that given the amount he had accomplished, given how much actual good he'd done over these last seven days that his death would have the same impact. That it would be simple. Near pointless. He would not die at least taking Saachi down with him. He would not die at least getting revenge for Lyndi, Jason, Ramona. He would not get redemption for his behaviour to Daniel, Yasmin, Baxter, Felicia, Yumi, Zubin. He would be shot by Saachi, he would fall into the tar pits, and there would be nothing to it more than that.

When the gun was raised, that was what he was expecting.

When the crossbow bolt went past his head, when Saachi fell to the ground, he paused. Stared, for a second.

That was not what he was expecting.

It seemed that this island wanted to keep him alive for a little bit longer.

…

Very well.

He moved forward. Covered the ground between him and Saachi. Sent a kick right into her midsection, while she was still on the ground.

[jimmydalad]

It seemed like Chuck's intervention ignited something within Maxwell. Saachi watched as he rushed towards her, unable to do anything but brace herself for his inevitable attack. She felt the breath rush out of her as his foot collided with her stomach and a loud gasp escaped from her mouth. All she could do was lay there for a second as she heard Chuck call out to her, trying to hold back the urge to vomit as she cradled her chest.

Enough? No. Saachi hadn't done enough. Everything that had happened on the island, every depraved action that she committed, meant that victory was the only option for her. She'd fallen into the trap laid by Danya and the organisers and now the only way for it all to make sense, the only way for there to be a justifiable reason for her to play the way she did. She had to survive.

She turned over on the floor in an attempt to shield her stomach from another kick to the stomach and came face to face with her bag. She couldn't get the shotgun, not with Maxwell standing in the way. Taking a deep breath, she lunged for her bag and quickly began to scour through it with her right hand, frantically searching for a weapon she could use. She managed to grasp onto the familiar handle of her cleaver. At that point, Saachi knew that it was now or never.

Quickly turning around and sitting up, she let out a guttural roar as she threw all of her energy into swinging the cleaver into Maxwell's leg. Her eyes were feverish as she felt the blade lodge itself into Maxwell, landing just above the left knee. She could see the blood start to seep onto the cleaver once again. Did she reach the bone? With the blade still inside, it was hard to tell. Panting, she turned her focus towards Chuck. Her eyes were narrowed with bitter determination and gritted her teeth as she felt the familiar feeling of adrenaline coursing through her body before screeching at her assailant.

"I'm not done yet. Not until I win. Not until I can justify everything I've thrown away in the name of fucking staying alive."

Her voice shook with a mixture of fury, sadness and desperation that was starting to come to the forefront. Even she could feel herself shaking slightly from the sheer amount of emotion and adrenaline she was experiencing. Any sense of composure she had was gone and all she could think about was surviving. She'd kill so many times already, another two would be easy. At least they'd bring her yet again closer to her true goal. That's what she had to aim for.