Now that was more like it - the attitude was gone, replaced with something more acceptable. Oliver didn't really wish for people to be afraid of him, but considering everything, he preferred it to people insulting him.
"What happens now?"
Oliver removed the gun from sight and put it back in his back pocket.
"I go my way, you go yours, and we just really hope we don't see each other again. I don't plan on going around killing everyone I see, because I'm not fucking crazy, but I do plan on living as long as I can to help make my thing happen, and that really works out better if I don't have people who think I'm crazy coming at me, or trying to kill me. So..."
Oliver switched off his torch and turned around on his heels, heading back to the house's side door.
"Trot on, Anvi."
Anvi could say whatever she wanted about him, how he was crazy or selfish or playing right into the American's hands, or any other blatantly false thing she could think up, but he knew he was going to live to carry out his plan, and whether or not Anvi lived to carry out hers was entirely up to her.
Sixes and Sevens
Private
She kept her eyes trained on the gun as Oliver lowered it, put it into his pocket.
He kept talking, and she found it hard to focus on his words in the current situation. It was all mad ranting, lies. Did he really expect her to believe he'd just leave her alone? He was mocking her, piece of shit.
He flipped off the torch, and they were left in darkness again. But she could still make him out, he was turning around. This was her chance. She'd take his gun, maybe knock some sense into him. Either way, the bastard wouldn't be able to traipse around acting smug and shooting people once she was done with him.
Anvi took off running towards Oliver. She knew he wouldn't be able to shoot her before she reached him.
He kept talking, and she found it hard to focus on his words in the current situation. It was all mad ranting, lies. Did he really expect her to believe he'd just leave her alone? He was mocking her, piece of shit.
He flipped off the torch, and they were left in darkness again. But she could still make him out, he was turning around. This was her chance. She'd take his gun, maybe knock some sense into him. Either way, the bastard wouldn't be able to traipse around acting smug and shooting people once she was done with him.
Anvi took off running towards Oliver. She knew he wouldn't be able to shoot her before she reached him.
When Oliver heard the footsteps, for a moment he thought they were going in the other direction. Instead, they were getting louder, and Oliver could only manage to turn around before he was knocked off his feet.
In those few moments before his back hit the ground, he felt nothing but panic. He was being attacked - Oliver hadn't been attacked in years, not since a small punch up when he was twelve years old. Since then he'd done his best to avoid any sort of physical confrontation, opting for literally any other option, but here he was. The fact it was Anvi Parekh, who he had almost ten kilos on, did nothing to dissuade the overwhelming fight or flight response in his head - he was being attacked and he did not want it.
He was no longer the all-confident Oliver who knew how to stop the Americans. He was a seventeen-year-old boy being attacked by a classmate and he was afraid. Oliver's hand sped to his gun, pulled it out, and without even thinking as he finally hit the ground and his head hit something hard, pulled the trigger, followed by the familiar almighty bang which caused everything in the first place.
In those few moments before his back hit the ground, he felt nothing but panic. He was being attacked - Oliver hadn't been attacked in years, not since a small punch up when he was twelve years old. Since then he'd done his best to avoid any sort of physical confrontation, opting for literally any other option, but here he was. The fact it was Anvi Parekh, who he had almost ten kilos on, did nothing to dissuade the overwhelming fight or flight response in his head - he was being attacked and he did not want it.
He was no longer the all-confident Oliver who knew how to stop the Americans. He was a seventeen-year-old boy being attacked by a classmate and he was afraid. Oliver's hand sped to his gun, pulled it out, and without even thinking as he finally hit the ground and his head hit something hard, pulled the trigger, followed by the familiar almighty bang which caused everything in the first place.
She was right. She got to him just as he turned back around, and with all the force she could muster she crashed her shoulder into his chest. She'd never done anything remotely like it, and he was certainly bigger than her, but she'd clearly put enough anger into the blow for it to work. Soon he was on the ground, and reaching for his pocket. All she had to do was-
There was a flash in the darkness, and a bang that left her ears ringing. She felt a blow to the stomach, like she'd been punched. She staggered back, felt around her stomach and found a wet area. He'd gotten her. But she was still alive, and he wouldn't get away with it.
Anvi lunged again. She slammed her palm into his head, pushing him against the ground. With her other hand, she grabbed for the gun. It was so close, she just had to rip it from him. See how many smug morons would be willing to talk down to her once she got that in her hands.
There was a flash in the darkness, and a bang that left her ears ringing. She felt a blow to the stomach, like she'd been punched. She staggered back, felt around her stomach and found a wet area. He'd gotten her. But she was still alive, and he wouldn't get away with it.
Anvi lunged again. She slammed her palm into his head, pushing him against the ground. With her other hand, she grabbed for the gun. It was so close, she just had to rip it from him. See how many smug morons would be willing to talk down to her once she got that in her hands.
Everything Oliver knew was blending into the second before it. His head hurt, his wrist was in pain, there was ringing in his ears, and he couldn't keep still. Not wouldn't, but physically unable to.
All he knew was that Anvi had attacked him, and he'd fired the gun wherever she was. For a few seconds of darkness, he knew nothing. It was quiet, but then it wasn't. Anvi was back, and she was attacking him again. The panic returned as her hand smacked into his head and crushed it against the ground, and the hurt in his head grew, as though he were painfully merging with the earth itself from the top of his form.
The only thing that ground him to reality was the handle of the gun still weighing down his hand, but just as Anvi tackled him into the ground it threatened to slip its way out of his hand when angry flesh grabbed at it. Oliver didn't know how he still had the sense of mind to keep holding on, but he knew he had to. He knew Anvi would kill him if she got the gun, so she couldn't get the gun. He tried to yell, but his throat closed. He couldn't even let out a yelp, or a whisper. Every attempt made him ill as the tug of war between Anvi and Oliver's hands continued, all the while Oliver could barely make out what was going on in front of him aside from a big brown shape dotted with green.
The arm with his gun began shaking, the panic filling every vein and flowing from every pore. He found it hard to breathe, liquid burn swirling beneath the close of his throat. The shakes became tugs, and his arm rocked to and fro, attempting to pull Anvi's hand from his own.
A sudden jerk felt freedom, and in under a second, Oliver brought the gun to both of his hands, aimed at the shape, and pulled the trigger over and over again until the fireworks ceased.
All he knew was that Anvi had attacked him, and he'd fired the gun wherever she was. For a few seconds of darkness, he knew nothing. It was quiet, but then it wasn't. Anvi was back, and she was attacking him again. The panic returned as her hand smacked into his head and crushed it against the ground, and the hurt in his head grew, as though he were painfully merging with the earth itself from the top of his form.
The only thing that ground him to reality was the handle of the gun still weighing down his hand, but just as Anvi tackled him into the ground it threatened to slip its way out of his hand when angry flesh grabbed at it. Oliver didn't know how he still had the sense of mind to keep holding on, but he knew he had to. He knew Anvi would kill him if she got the gun, so she couldn't get the gun. He tried to yell, but his throat closed. He couldn't even let out a yelp, or a whisper. Every attempt made him ill as the tug of war between Anvi and Oliver's hands continued, all the while Oliver could barely make out what was going on in front of him aside from a big brown shape dotted with green.
The arm with his gun began shaking, the panic filling every vein and flowing from every pore. He found it hard to breathe, liquid burn swirling beneath the close of his throat. The shakes became tugs, and his arm rocked to and fro, attempting to pull Anvi's hand from his own.
A sudden jerk felt freedom, and in under a second, Oliver brought the gun to both of his hands, aimed at the shape, and pulled the trigger over and over again until the fireworks ceased.
She was injured, and he was injured, but they still had enough energy to fight over the gun. Every time Anvi pulled it towards her, every time it seemed like he'd finally let go, he tugged it back. But Anvi could tell, he was getting weaker with each passing second.
You had a choice. I gave you a goddamn choice. You couldn't you just listen?
Anvi wanted to tell him that, to rub it in, or to provide justification, but it was getting harder to breathe and her ears were still ringing, so she didn't say anything. Oliver's arm began jerking around wildly just as she started feeling dizzy. She let her fingers slip just a little, and before she knew it Oliver had ripped the gun away from her, and he was pointing it right at her.
You're throwing away our only chance to beat them. How could you be so stupid?
Anvi wasn't able to say that either, because Oliver pulled the trigger again and again, riddling her with bullets. Her body fell backwards, face still contorted into a scowl. Had she still been alive and conscious, she would have Oliver and the viewers at home some parting words.
You all deserve this.
F19 - Anvi Parekh - Deceased
You had a choice. I gave you a goddamn choice. You couldn't you just listen?
Anvi wanted to tell him that, to rub it in, or to provide justification, but it was getting harder to breathe and her ears were still ringing, so she didn't say anything. Oliver's arm began jerking around wildly just as she started feeling dizzy. She let her fingers slip just a little, and before she knew it Oliver had ripped the gun away from her, and he was pointing it right at her.
You're throwing away our only chance to beat them. How could you be so stupid?
Anvi wasn't able to say that either, because Oliver pulled the trigger again and again, riddling her with bullets. Her body fell backwards, face still contorted into a scowl. Had she still been alive and conscious, she would have Oliver and the viewers at home some parting words.
You all deserve this.
F19 - Anvi Parekh - Deceased
The silence following the clicks was deafening, but Oliver couldn't hear it because he literally couldn't hear, the ringing in his ears encompassed everything. After several seconds, or minutes, or hours, laying there with his head hurting and his vision attempting to adjust to the dark, Oliver finally took one hand from the gun and pushed himself to his feet.
He immediately felt as though he was going to fall down again, the dizziness almost entirely overcoming him. Oliver grabbed what looked like a fence in the dark to steady himself, yet it didn't stop him from doubling over on his feet, taking in breaths like he was someone feckless huffing paint fumes behind Tesco. He felt something cold drip down the back of his neck, and he absentmindedly put his hand back to touch, returning with something dark. Taking his hand from the fence, he found his torch again, and shined it on his hands.
Blood.
He returned his hand to the back of his head and found the wetness, where it also hurt to touch. He'd been hit pretty badly on the back of his head by something on the ground when Anvi tackled him.
Oh.
Oliver turned around and shined the torch on Anvi. She wasn't moving, she had large holes in her chest that might as well have been blown out by a cannon, and her eyes were open and staring at nothing.
He'd killed her.
"W-what did-why did y-you-"
Oliver doubled over again, trying to breathe, and stood up as the dizziness ebbed away for a few moments.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR? I wasn't even-"
The dizziness returned, along with the headache and nausea, and Oliver's rant was cut short as he stumbled backwards to the ground, dropping the torch to the ground. He sat there, looking at the beam to keep himself steady as it illuminated Anvi's shoe and nothing else. He lost track of time again because it wasn't working properly.
Oliver blinked and tried standing up again. Despite everything, he managed, retrieving his torch and gun before heading back to the door. He somehow remembered where he'd placed his bag, and he shouldered it immediately, dropping the torch and gun inside. The urge to fall hadn't gone away.
Anvi shouldn't have been dead, but she was. She attacked him, he defended himself, and now she was dead. He wanted to give it more thought but he could feel the cold dripping down the back of his neck again, and he realized he hadn't been feeling like a hospital patient until he hit his head. Something probably happened. It hurt to think, or look at things. He was tired, but he knew something bad would probably happen if he fell asleep after hitting his head that badly, it always did on soaps, so he had to stay awake. He couldn't do first aid by torchlight on himself, especially when he couldn't see the back of his own scalp, so he needed to find someone to help him. Thoughts and contemplation were replaced by instinct.
But it needed to be before the announcements, otherwise they'd know he was a killer, even if they didn't know everything that happened between him and the girl he killed. He didn't know how people would react to him, because he hadn't had his own reaction to anyone yet.
He hadn't even made it to the doorway when the next wave came, and Oliver fell against the wall, hitting his head again but not as badly. Still fucking hurt, though, as open wounds tended to do, even without the pounding headache destroying his temples. Once again he steadied himself, and pulled open the door, just so he wouldn't have to walk over Anvi's body.
Someone needed to help him, or he wasn't sure what would happen.
((Oliver Davies continued elsewhere))
He immediately felt as though he was going to fall down again, the dizziness almost entirely overcoming him. Oliver grabbed what looked like a fence in the dark to steady himself, yet it didn't stop him from doubling over on his feet, taking in breaths like he was someone feckless huffing paint fumes behind Tesco. He felt something cold drip down the back of his neck, and he absentmindedly put his hand back to touch, returning with something dark. Taking his hand from the fence, he found his torch again, and shined it on his hands.
Blood.
He returned his hand to the back of his head and found the wetness, where it also hurt to touch. He'd been hit pretty badly on the back of his head by something on the ground when Anvi tackled him.
Oh.
Oliver turned around and shined the torch on Anvi. She wasn't moving, she had large holes in her chest that might as well have been blown out by a cannon, and her eyes were open and staring at nothing.
He'd killed her.
"W-what did-why did y-you-"
Oliver doubled over again, trying to breathe, and stood up as the dizziness ebbed away for a few moments.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR? I wasn't even-"
The dizziness returned, along with the headache and nausea, and Oliver's rant was cut short as he stumbled backwards to the ground, dropping the torch to the ground. He sat there, looking at the beam to keep himself steady as it illuminated Anvi's shoe and nothing else. He lost track of time again because it wasn't working properly.
Oliver blinked and tried standing up again. Despite everything, he managed, retrieving his torch and gun before heading back to the door. He somehow remembered where he'd placed his bag, and he shouldered it immediately, dropping the torch and gun inside. The urge to fall hadn't gone away.
Anvi shouldn't have been dead, but she was. She attacked him, he defended himself, and now she was dead. He wanted to give it more thought but he could feel the cold dripping down the back of his neck again, and he realized he hadn't been feeling like a hospital patient until he hit his head. Something probably happened. It hurt to think, or look at things. He was tired, but he knew something bad would probably happen if he fell asleep after hitting his head that badly, it always did on soaps, so he had to stay awake. He couldn't do first aid by torchlight on himself, especially when he couldn't see the back of his own scalp, so he needed to find someone to help him. Thoughts and contemplation were replaced by instinct.
But it needed to be before the announcements, otherwise they'd know he was a killer, even if they didn't know everything that happened between him and the girl he killed. He didn't know how people would react to him, because he hadn't had his own reaction to anyone yet.
He hadn't even made it to the doorway when the next wave came, and Oliver fell against the wall, hitting his head again but not as badly. Still fucking hurt, though, as open wounds tended to do, even without the pounding headache destroying his temples. Once again he steadied himself, and pulled open the door, just so he wouldn't have to walk over Anvi's body.
Someone needed to help him, or he wasn't sure what would happen.
((Oliver Davies continued elsewhere))