“Junji did that?” Fisk’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. Not that, y’know Junji was playing, but more so that he did that and somehow got away with it, considering Fisk hadn’t heard his name on the announcements. Big boy already outlived his expected expiration date. Fisk would be impressed if that date wasn’t thirty seconds into the game starting. “Well, you have my condolences there, but on the bright side, at least he wasn’t the one to kill you.” Thankfully, Junji didn’t score his first kill before Fisk did, now that would be embarrassing. Not as bad as the poor sap who’d have died by his hands, but still. May the powers that be have mercy upon the soul who actually managed to die by Junji Yamada. That’s an achievement in of it’s own. “Thanks for the info, though, I’ll keep a lookout for him.”
“Anyways-“ Fisk clasped his hands. “Giselle’s wearing a pink bucket hat and some nineties grandma clothes.” Fisk smirked and held back a laugh. “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t dress her. Anyways, her and Anthony wandered off and that left me to patch up one of my other friends after Verity shot her.” A good alibi is always steeped in a little bit of truth, plus the announcements helped add to the story.
“Hey umm, appreciate the help by the way, but you mind if I take a look at that cut? My father made me take first aid classes, and I can make sure that cut won’t get infected or anything nasty like that.”
Bait sent. Time to reel the line in.
There Will Be Blood
A hit song by Kim Petras! PRIVATE
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
"Did you do the same for Ivan after you were done, Fisk?"
A voice called out from the side. Already deep with some artificialness added to it. Hands in his pockets to extend a casual persona forth as he stood on one of the ships several meters from the two. Difficult as it was due to the buoyancy of the ships
Despite that, he smiled at them.
"I mean, he did look pretty fucked up where you had strung him up. Some cold-blooded shit right there." He looked more at Fisk as he spoke, sized him up. He had nothing in his hands.
He had seen Cassini, small and dressed up like she was. Not a threat, and neither was he.
Now, Seth didn't care about Ivan per se. There were pangs of sympathy for his fellow man being hurt like that, but Ivan was an asshole and so was Fisk.
The difference was he had use for one, a use that Fisk would aid.
Carefully he lifted his right leg up out of his boat and stepped out towards the docks. Hands still kept in his pockets, fingers curling and itching within begging for release as he ventured up.
A voice called out from the side. Already deep with some artificialness added to it. Hands in his pockets to extend a casual persona forth as he stood on one of the ships several meters from the two. Difficult as it was due to the buoyancy of the ships
Despite that, he smiled at them.
"I mean, he did look pretty fucked up where you had strung him up. Some cold-blooded shit right there." He looked more at Fisk as he spoke, sized him up. He had nothing in his hands.
He had seen Cassini, small and dressed up like she was. Not a threat, and neither was he.
Now, Seth didn't care about Ivan per se. There were pangs of sympathy for his fellow man being hurt like that, but Ivan was an asshole and so was Fisk.
The difference was he had use for one, a use that Fisk would aid.
Carefully he lifted his right leg up out of his boat and stepped out towards the docks. Hands still kept in his pockets, fingers curling and itching within begging for release as he ventured up.
“Excuse me?”
The smile faded from Fisk’s lips as he turned to face the sound of the voice that called him out oh so rudely. It returned, and Fisk squinted. Oh so brazen of you, Seth.
He wouldn’t do nothing yet, he wasn’t sure if Seth had buddies, or even worse an old friend with him. Still, it didn’t mean much, maybe Seth saw him unconscious, or hid and watched it all go down. Maybe Ivan was still up there. Maybe he was dead by now.
“What’s cold blooded is that you’d just make up some dirty story like that. Now, that is an awful thing to accuse someone of. What would draw you to the conclusions to make such slanderous lies, like that, especially since my name, nor Ivan’s had appeared on the announcements?”
Seth was getting closer. Fisk put his hands on his hips. He wondered what Seth had in his pockets. A knife, a gun? He kept his grin, but there was an uncertainty in Fisk’s eyes.
The smile faded from Fisk’s lips as he turned to face the sound of the voice that called him out oh so rudely. It returned, and Fisk squinted. Oh so brazen of you, Seth.
He wouldn’t do nothing yet, he wasn’t sure if Seth had buddies, or even worse an old friend with him. Still, it didn’t mean much, maybe Seth saw him unconscious, or hid and watched it all go down. Maybe Ivan was still up there. Maybe he was dead by now.
“What’s cold blooded is that you’d just make up some dirty story like that. Now, that is an awful thing to accuse someone of. What would draw you to the conclusions to make such slanderous lies, like that, especially since my name, nor Ivan’s had appeared on the announcements?”
Seth was getting closer. Fisk put his hands on his hips. He wondered what Seth had in his pockets. A knife, a gun? He kept his grin, but there was an uncertainty in Fisk’s eyes.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Whilst there had been a chance that Seth's guess at what had gone down there could be wrong. Fisk's reaction told him he was on the right track. The nagging doubt in the back of his mind was now gone, replaced with a purpose for Fisk that became more resolute as he spoke.
"Oh, made up you say? If anybody would be making it up, it was Ivan then. He told me after I fished him down." A small white lie to get to him couldn't hurt. No names were mentioned, only the number. Six. He had found numero uno.
As he did so, he took lengthy, but careful steps towards them. His upper body swinging lightly to the left and right, step by step. The bag in his pocket crinkled as he did so.
"He really wants to see you, Fisk. And I figure, why not give him the opportunity?" His smile morphed to a grin. All he had to was get close, and knock this clown out.
"Oh, made up you say? If anybody would be making it up, it was Ivan then. He told me after I fished him down." A small white lie to get to him couldn't hurt. No names were mentioned, only the number. Six. He had found numero uno.
As he did so, he took lengthy, but careful steps towards them. His upper body swinging lightly to the left and right, step by step. The bag in his pocket crinkled as he did so.
"He really wants to see you, Fisk. And I figure, why not give him the opportunity?" His smile morphed to a grin. All he had to was get close, and knock this clown out.
So Ivan was still conscious enough to talk. He was still alive, and he was still a very real threat, and now he found a friend. Not good.
“Hey now... Lets talk about this.” Fisk raised his arms. Palms were free, nothing up his sleeve. Shiv still hidden in the back belt loop of his trousers. “What you’re saying, it’s preposterous. L-Listen to yourself! What?! Y-you’re implying that I jumped him?! It’s not like, it’s not like I carved my initials into him!”
Fisk took a step back, still pleading. “Come on look at me! Do I look like the type of guy with the strength to hang someone up on my own, let’s be real here!”
“Hey now... Lets talk about this.” Fisk raised his arms. Palms were free, nothing up his sleeve. Shiv still hidden in the back belt loop of his trousers. “What you’re saying, it’s preposterous. L-Listen to yourself! What?! Y-you’re implying that I jumped him?! It’s not like, it’s not like I carved my initials into him!”
Fisk took a step back, still pleading. “Come on look at me! Do I look like the type of guy with the strength to hang someone up on my own, let’s be real here!”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
More and more he fell apart, lies buckling in on each other. Details coming forth that were a bit too coincidental. The initials, the fact he couldn't do it alone. He even went so far as to actually plead at him.
"Funny, didn't say anything about any initials, but he did have something carved on his face." Seth said, almost in a huff. It was almost offensive to think this idiot managed to rope people along to doing anything to anyone, but lest he forget, Mangrove high had a lot of idiots hanging around. Specially the goths, anyone who hanged out in floridian weather in full getup, makeup and everything, were obviously fucked in the head.
The march stopped. He dropped the casual pace now, hands out of his pockets. Fingers curled in on themselves.
"Not on your own, Fisk, no. Someone like you couldn't beat Ivan like that, but when there's six of you...definitely." Wherever those other five where at that moment didn't matter. What mattered was him being on his own out here, trying to do something with Cassini.
Nothing good would happen had he let this continue. Fisk needed to be stopped.
And Seth would reap the rewards for doing so.
So, he broke out into a sprint towards him. Gritting his teeth as he got ready to shoulder check Fisk.
"Funny, didn't say anything about any initials, but he did have something carved on his face." Seth said, almost in a huff. It was almost offensive to think this idiot managed to rope people along to doing anything to anyone, but lest he forget, Mangrove high had a lot of idiots hanging around. Specially the goths, anyone who hanged out in floridian weather in full getup, makeup and everything, were obviously fucked in the head.
The march stopped. He dropped the casual pace now, hands out of his pockets. Fingers curled in on themselves.
"Not on your own, Fisk, no. Someone like you couldn't beat Ivan like that, but when there's six of you...definitely." Wherever those other five where at that moment didn't matter. What mattered was him being on his own out here, trying to do something with Cassini.
Nothing good would happen had he let this continue. Fisk needed to be stopped.
And Seth would reap the rewards for doing so.
So, he broke out into a sprint towards him. Gritting his teeth as he got ready to shoulder check Fisk.
Oh. Fisk realized his folly as soon as it left his mouth. His brain was swirling with various thoughts and phrases, but the most important one was a set of lyrics from Thundercat’s hit song, Oh Shiet It’s x. Said lyrics summed up the events that were occurring at this moment in one single sentence.
Oh shit, I fucked up.
Seth let him know that he caught him in the lie as he stopped his swagger, hands removed from his pockets. He let him know that he knew Fisk wasn’t alone.
Then, he charged.
“Aw, Fu-“ He felt Seth’s tackle push him back down the docks, slamming him right into a wooden crate planted on the side. It slid and rocked back, and Fisk was afraid it and the two of them would’ve fallen into the water. Lucky for him, it was heavy enough not to do that. Didn’t stop Seth from continuing to pin him against the damn thing and try to push him off. Fisk gasped for air and gathered his bearing, bringing his elbows down into Seth’s back out of reflex.
Seth grunted and shot a fist up, knocking Fisk back as Seth bent him backwards over the crate into a rather uncomfortably vulnerable position. Fisk swung back, but Seth just ate it.
Seth retaliated with his own punches, buffeting Fisk to the left and right, before gripping his throat in one hand, and throwing a few more hooks with the other. Seth took his free hand and wrapped it around Fisk’s neck as well, and began to squeeze. Fisk could only claw Ineffectively at Seth’s face as his other hand attempted to find his shiv.
Once again, he was getting the life throttled out of him...
Oh shit, I fucked up.
Seth let him know that he caught him in the lie as he stopped his swagger, hands removed from his pockets. He let him know that he knew Fisk wasn’t alone.
Then, he charged.
“Aw, Fu-“ He felt Seth’s tackle push him back down the docks, slamming him right into a wooden crate planted on the side. It slid and rocked back, and Fisk was afraid it and the two of them would’ve fallen into the water. Lucky for him, it was heavy enough not to do that. Didn’t stop Seth from continuing to pin him against the damn thing and try to push him off. Fisk gasped for air and gathered his bearing, bringing his elbows down into Seth’s back out of reflex.
Seth grunted and shot a fist up, knocking Fisk back as Seth bent him backwards over the crate into a rather uncomfortably vulnerable position. Fisk swung back, but Seth just ate it.
Seth retaliated with his own punches, buffeting Fisk to the left and right, before gripping his throat in one hand, and throwing a few more hooks with the other. Seth took his free hand and wrapped it around Fisk’s neck as well, and began to squeeze. Fisk could only claw Ineffectively at Seth’s face as his other hand attempted to find his shiv.
Once again, he was getting the life throttled out of him...
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Vasily has always been shit at blending in.
That didn’t matter. All he had to do was to be fast- all he had to do was be there.
As Fisk’s lies fell down on each other, as Seth wrapped his big arms against his throat, Vasily sprinted as fast as he could- fully visible, thin figure blitzing across the dock, glass shiv digging into his hand, and swung the weapon at Seth as hard as he could.
The glass met a millisecond of resistance, then it sank into the skin, fat, and flesh. Almost like cutting steak.
The smell of blood was more pungent this time. It felt different without the mask. It felt different with just him and Fisk. He couldn’t afford to care. Couldn’t let this one get away.
That didn’t matter. All he had to do was to be fast- all he had to do was be there.
As Fisk’s lies fell down on each other, as Seth wrapped his big arms against his throat, Vasily sprinted as fast as he could- fully visible, thin figure blitzing across the dock, glass shiv digging into his hand, and swung the weapon at Seth as hard as he could.
The glass met a millisecond of resistance, then it sank into the skin, fat, and flesh. Almost like cutting steak.
The smell of blood was more pungent this time. It felt different without the mask. It felt different with just him and Fisk. He couldn’t afford to care. Couldn’t let this one get away.
-
Sunnybunny
- Posts: 37
- Joined: Tue Jun 30, 2020 4:13 am
"V...asily?"
The tackle worked. Fisk went off his balance, and He had him pinned against a crate. A pushing contest between the two ensued where they stood as Seth wheezed and grunted through his gritted, grinning teeth as the two came to blows.
Once the elbow hit him in the back, Seth felt himself see red for the first in a long time.
He let loose a fist that rocketed Fisk a bit back into the crate, before hammering several more into him. Vicious ones he had never had the opportunity to do to someone before. Fisk would swing back, of course, but Seth would eat those and give back more in return.
It's as the saying goes: "If life gives you lemons, burn life's house down." Fisk gave Seth a lemon, and Seth would burn Fisk alive for it.
It went well, better than expected as his hands wrapped around his neck, fingers curling in to leave red marks behind with nails deepening into the flesh beneath.
And like with a lemon, Seth squeezed as hard as he could. He watched as Fisk's hands went towards his face and scratched uselessly at his cheeks, lips, nose. Whatever he could find. He watched as his eyes started bugging out, as fear took its hold, spinning and rolling around.
He grinned and press-
He heard it first, movement, forcefull steps that didn't sound like Cassini. The sound of wind pushing against them being interrupted by his favorite shirt getting ripped.
A sudden sensation to the side, pain.
His grip weakened ever so slightly as he cursed and screamed.
Once the elbow hit him in the back, Seth felt himself see red for the first in a long time.
He let loose a fist that rocketed Fisk a bit back into the crate, before hammering several more into him. Vicious ones he had never had the opportunity to do to someone before. Fisk would swing back, of course, but Seth would eat those and give back more in return.
It's as the saying goes: "If life gives you lemons, burn life's house down." Fisk gave Seth a lemon, and Seth would burn Fisk alive for it.
It went well, better than expected as his hands wrapped around his neck, fingers curling in to leave red marks behind with nails deepening into the flesh beneath.
And like with a lemon, Seth squeezed as hard as he could. He watched as Fisk's hands went towards his face and scratched uselessly at his cheeks, lips, nose. Whatever he could find. He watched as his eyes started bugging out, as fear took its hold, spinning and rolling around.
He grinned and press-
He heard it first, movement, forcefull steps that didn't sound like Cassini. The sound of wind pushing against them being interrupted by his favorite shirt getting ripped.
A sudden sensation to the side, pain.
His grip weakened ever so slightly as he cursed and screamed.
...And once again, Vasily saves him.
Fisk heard the familiar thunk that he's heard so many times watching SOTF. The sound of something puncturing cloth and flesh. He saw Seth's eyes widen, he saw Vasily behind him. It was bound to end this way. Maybe it was meant for Cassini, but Seth'll do, and he'll do much better for the bullshit he attempted. Fisk smiled as Seth's grip laxed, as his fingers gripped the shiv he'd been reaching for.
Thwick.
Just under the ribs, saw Seth wiggle, heard him wheeze. With his free hand he grabbed Seth by the collar as he stood back up, and brought him face to face with his superior." Yer-You're right. You caught me. I wasn't alone with Ivan at all." He pressed his forehead against Seth's.
"So what makes you think I'd be alone now?"
Fisk's head leaned back, and he eyed Vasily. Fisk nodded at him. He pulled his blade out of Seth, and put it back in.
So begins the ballet of blades.
Fisk heard the familiar thunk that he's heard so many times watching SOTF. The sound of something puncturing cloth and flesh. He saw Seth's eyes widen, he saw Vasily behind him. It was bound to end this way. Maybe it was meant for Cassini, but Seth'll do, and he'll do much better for the bullshit he attempted. Fisk smiled as Seth's grip laxed, as his fingers gripped the shiv he'd been reaching for.
Thwick.
Just under the ribs, saw Seth wiggle, heard him wheeze. With his free hand he grabbed Seth by the collar as he stood back up, and brought him face to face with his superior." Yer-You're right. You caught me. I wasn't alone with Ivan at all." He pressed his forehead against Seth's.
"So what makes you think I'd be alone now?"
Fisk's head leaned back, and he eyed Vasily. Fisk nodded at him. He pulled his blade out of Seth, and put it back in.
So begins the ballet of blades.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
“Cass-”
Seth’s scream ripped through the air.
Shit. No. No. Focus. Focus on the task at hand. No. Don’t think about that.
Vasily wanted to say sorry. Instead, he just kept on stabbing Seth. He could deal with her later; she wasn’t a threat.
It was so easy to kill someone when they didn’t have to beat the shit out of each other beforehand. All Vasily needed to do was to plunge the Shiv in. Deep enough, until he could feel the blood spray out, almost black in the night. Rip the Shiv out, and then plunge it in again. And again.
And again.
(The blade scratched against Seth’s bone and he could almost shiver.)
And again.
(He hoped Cassini wouldn’t hate him. He knew that wouldn’t happen.)
And again.
(The blood clung to him, almost unbearingly warm and sticky. His mouth was open and heaving for air, and he swore he could taste it. Seth’s fat was visible from the wound, deeper beneath the skin, in yellowish clumps. If Vasily squinted hard enough, maybe he could see the shine of his entrails. Maybe he couldn't. He wasn’t paying attention to Seth’s dying body in any way other than the violent intent to hurt it more.)
Ivan was a mistake he couldn’t afford to repeat. Seth couldn’t survive from this. He couldn’t. Vasily and Fisk wouldn’t let him.
Shiv goes in, Shiv goes out. Sometimes the blade slotted almost comfortably back into an already-made wound, and sometimes it made a new hole in his body. Again and again. Time wasn’t something he was processing. All he knew was that he had to kill someone, and that someone was Seth.
And then Cassini.
And then more people that he cared about.
Seth’s scream ripped through the air.
Shit. No. No. Focus. Focus on the task at hand. No. Don’t think about that.
Vasily wanted to say sorry. Instead, he just kept on stabbing Seth. He could deal with her later; she wasn’t a threat.
It was so easy to kill someone when they didn’t have to beat the shit out of each other beforehand. All Vasily needed to do was to plunge the Shiv in. Deep enough, until he could feel the blood spray out, almost black in the night. Rip the Shiv out, and then plunge it in again. And again.
And again.
(The blade scratched against Seth’s bone and he could almost shiver.)
And again.
(He hoped Cassini wouldn’t hate him. He knew that wouldn’t happen.)
And again.
(The blood clung to him, almost unbearingly warm and sticky. His mouth was open and heaving for air, and he swore he could taste it. Seth’s fat was visible from the wound, deeper beneath the skin, in yellowish clumps. If Vasily squinted hard enough, maybe he could see the shine of his entrails. Maybe he couldn't. He wasn’t paying attention to Seth’s dying body in any way other than the violent intent to hurt it more.)
Ivan was a mistake he couldn’t afford to repeat. Seth couldn’t survive from this. He couldn’t. Vasily and Fisk wouldn’t let him.
Shiv goes in, Shiv goes out. Sometimes the blade slotted almost comfortably back into an already-made wound, and sometimes it made a new hole in his body. Again and again. Time wasn’t something he was processing. All he knew was that he had to kill someone, and that someone was Seth.
And then Cassini.
And then more people that he cared about.
Time to finish this. Ivan was lucky. Anthony was lucky. Seth wasn't. Fisk began began pushing and yanking the shiv into Seth's gut over and over again, his face twisting into a scowl. His lips peeled back, teeth bared, Fisk attacked like an animal, an onslaught of punctures making their way through Seth's flesh.
One of Seth's arms brushed against Fisk's face, only for Fisk to slap it out of the way with his free arm. Three more stabs later, and Seth curled and folded on the ground below them. His shirt was a mess of red, body underneath shiny and slick with blood. His body leaked like a fountain, and despite the darkness, the moonlight showed Fisk all he needed to know about Seth's fate.
Funny to think this whole thing happened in a span of about fifteen seconds tops after Vasily joined in. Fisk panted. It took a lot more out of him than he thought it would. This fighting for your life business isn't like it is on tv. Well, it is, but it's different when you're the actor and not a spectator. He put his hands on the back of his head and took a deep breath. "Phew..."
He squatted next to the writhing mewling form that used to be Seth. Sure he was still alive, but there was no saving him, not like Ivan. The fact that the bastard still roams the arena angered Fisk, and more importantly, threatened him. He would need to be dealt with before he could get a chance to cause some real damage besides sending wannabe vigilantes after him.
Fisk leaned in close to Seth. Cupped his cheeks with his hand, as blood dribbled out the side of his lips. He made Seth look at him. "Don't you worry about Ivan. My friends and I don't need any help getting to him. We'll do it ourselves..." A smirk, a chuckle. He let Seth's head fall back and looked at his hand, and the blood on his fingertips. He took his finger and wiped it on Seth's forehead. First a vertical line.... Then two horizontal lines.
F
He looked down at his and Vasily's handiwork, and saw something plastic gleaming out of Seth's pocket. Curiosity took the better of him and he took it out. He held the clear baggy out in front of him, aiming it so the moonlight would glimmer on it. He was pretty sure he had a good idea what the substance inside was, (mostly from previous experience of sneaking into his Dad's private drawer) but now was not the place to test that theory. Fisk's eyes trailed back up to Vasily, and he realized that neither of the two were wearing their masks.
Fisk stood up, and pocketed the bag. His free hand reached for his back belt loop, and pulled the off-white cloth from it, draping it over his head. Cold grey eyes behind a cold grey face looked back at Vasily, then down at seth. "...But first."
He pointed his shiv at his original target.
"We gotta deal with her."
One of Seth's arms brushed against Fisk's face, only for Fisk to slap it out of the way with his free arm. Three more stabs later, and Seth curled and folded on the ground below them. His shirt was a mess of red, body underneath shiny and slick with blood. His body leaked like a fountain, and despite the darkness, the moonlight showed Fisk all he needed to know about Seth's fate.
Funny to think this whole thing happened in a span of about fifteen seconds tops after Vasily joined in. Fisk panted. It took a lot more out of him than he thought it would. This fighting for your life business isn't like it is on tv. Well, it is, but it's different when you're the actor and not a spectator. He put his hands on the back of his head and took a deep breath. "Phew..."
He squatted next to the writhing mewling form that used to be Seth. Sure he was still alive, but there was no saving him, not like Ivan. The fact that the bastard still roams the arena angered Fisk, and more importantly, threatened him. He would need to be dealt with before he could get a chance to cause some real damage besides sending wannabe vigilantes after him.
Fisk leaned in close to Seth. Cupped his cheeks with his hand, as blood dribbled out the side of his lips. He made Seth look at him. "Don't you worry about Ivan. My friends and I don't need any help getting to him. We'll do it ourselves..." A smirk, a chuckle. He let Seth's head fall back and looked at his hand, and the blood on his fingertips. He took his finger and wiped it on Seth's forehead. First a vertical line.... Then two horizontal lines.
F
He looked down at his and Vasily's handiwork, and saw something plastic gleaming out of Seth's pocket. Curiosity took the better of him and he took it out. He held the clear baggy out in front of him, aiming it so the moonlight would glimmer on it. He was pretty sure he had a good idea what the substance inside was, (mostly from previous experience of sneaking into his Dad's private drawer) but now was not the place to test that theory. Fisk's eyes trailed back up to Vasily, and he realized that neither of the two were wearing their masks.
Fisk stood up, and pocketed the bag. His free hand reached for his back belt loop, and pulled the off-white cloth from it, draping it over his head. Cold grey eyes behind a cold grey face looked back at Vasily, then down at seth. "...But first."
He pointed his shiv at his original target.
"We gotta deal with her."
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Pain. That's all there was now. Cassini called out Vasily, and Seth knew immediatly it was the fucking russian cyclops on his ass that was shanking. As he turned to see, more pain came from the front. fuckface Fisk had one on him as well.
And they went to town on him.
The wind ripped at him as icicles went in and out. Over and over again.
Seth screamed.
"Th-that all you got! C'mon you fucks! You used cumrags!"
Seth cursed.
"Fuck you! Y'hear me! Fuck you and Vasily!"
He tried to get his grip back, he tried to push back against Fisk. Rip that smile, rip those lips off. Hurt him in any way possible, hurt him so he remembers what that was like every time he uses his blade.
But it was too much.
Seth fell over to the ground with a wham onto his side, blood pooling out from his various wounds across his body. He coughed and sputtered more curses at the two above him. All he could see was red, and it wasn't the blood doing it. But the spirit soon left him as he laid there, staring into the distance as the two slinked their blades back with smiles on their faces. His bag soon disappeared from his person.
Fisk grabbed hold of his face, held it real close as he spewed more of his bullshit at him. If there was more power in Seth, he would have spat him right in the face. Seth's head fell back to ground as Fisk let loose of his grip, before drawing on him with blood and going back to robbing him, taking hold of his cocaine. Not even letting him have that as he bled out.
He tried to turn, but his arms lay uselessly at his sides spread out, knuckles white from the exertion he had put on them. He tried to move, but his legs twitched underneath him as he fruitlessly tried. He tried to do anything, but his body refused to obey as he coughed up blood.
Steps leading away told him he was alone, all alone except with the sounds of waves hitting the docks and boats before falling backwards into the ocean. Blood dripped between the planks to mix with the water below.
He tried to scream, cry out for help, but his voice had left him at this point. No one would help now.
He had miscalculated, thought Fisk too much of an idiot. Was that a display or reality? Nevertheless, he overplayed his hand and paid the price. Figures he'd do the immediate mistake. Should have stuck with his teammate, no matter how suspicious Kamille was.
Seth's weary eyes stopped blinking at the distance and instead closed. If he was about to die, he was going to think of something pleasant, even as the pain reverberated across his body and the wind slashed at him through his shirt. He should have worn flannel before he went to school.
He pictured his chihuahua, staring back at him expectantly and ready for another trip as his brother laid in his room playing another rhythm game, his sister out with her friends and his parents hard at work.
Small comforts like that he would never have again.
He imagined picking up Tyson's collar, settling it in place before tying the leash and walking out the door.
It was bright out there, but that was fine. It was better than this place.
And then he couldn’t see anymore.
JL04 - Seth Dunn DECEASED
And they went to town on him.
The wind ripped at him as icicles went in and out. Over and over again.
Seth screamed.
"Th-that all you got! C'mon you fucks! You used cumrags!"
Seth cursed.
"Fuck you! Y'hear me! Fuck you and Vasily!"
He tried to get his grip back, he tried to push back against Fisk. Rip that smile, rip those lips off. Hurt him in any way possible, hurt him so he remembers what that was like every time he uses his blade.
But it was too much.
Seth fell over to the ground with a wham onto his side, blood pooling out from his various wounds across his body. He coughed and sputtered more curses at the two above him. All he could see was red, and it wasn't the blood doing it. But the spirit soon left him as he laid there, staring into the distance as the two slinked their blades back with smiles on their faces. His bag soon disappeared from his person.
Fisk grabbed hold of his face, held it real close as he spewed more of his bullshit at him. If there was more power in Seth, he would have spat him right in the face. Seth's head fell back to ground as Fisk let loose of his grip, before drawing on him with blood and going back to robbing him, taking hold of his cocaine. Not even letting him have that as he bled out.
He tried to turn, but his arms lay uselessly at his sides spread out, knuckles white from the exertion he had put on them. He tried to move, but his legs twitched underneath him as he fruitlessly tried. He tried to do anything, but his body refused to obey as he coughed up blood.
Steps leading away told him he was alone, all alone except with the sounds of waves hitting the docks and boats before falling backwards into the ocean. Blood dripped between the planks to mix with the water below.
He tried to scream, cry out for help, but his voice had left him at this point. No one would help now.
He had miscalculated, thought Fisk too much of an idiot. Was that a display or reality? Nevertheless, he overplayed his hand and paid the price. Figures he'd do the immediate mistake. Should have stuck with his teammate, no matter how suspicious Kamille was.
Seth's weary eyes stopped blinking at the distance and instead closed. If he was about to die, he was going to think of something pleasant, even as the pain reverberated across his body and the wind slashed at him through his shirt. He should have worn flannel before he went to school.
He pictured his chihuahua, staring back at him expectantly and ready for another trip as his brother laid in his room playing another rhythm game, his sister out with her friends and his parents hard at work.
Small comforts like that he would never have again.
He imagined picking up Tyson's collar, settling it in place before tying the leash and walking out the door.
It was bright out there, but that was fine. It was better than this place.
And then he couldn’t see anymore.
JL04 - Seth Dunn DECEASED
Seth was dead. And even if he wasn’t… there’s no coming back from that.
There was so much blood. It was fucking everywhere- soaked into everybody’s clothes, sprayed onto Vasily’s face and probably Fisk's, too- it was hard to see when everything’s dark but it was so wet and warm and sticky and-
And Seth was dead.
And Vasily was a murderer.
It was almost fascinating, how the lights in his eyes went out, the moment where a man became nothing more than a sack of flesh and bone and fat.
For a second, he couldn’t help the flash of empathy in him.
What were his last thoughts?
… Probably something really, really fucked up, since he called the two used cumrags and all, but-
No. No. Seth was dead now. Seth was just a piece of meat with F painted onto his forehead. Seth would have died anyways, so it wasn’t like Vasily was any worse than everybody else who wanted to win this game. Seth was just a piece of meat.
(Seth was a boy.)
(A boy that you killed.)
(Admit it.)
(You aren’t doing yourself any favors pretending that you’re another person, Vasily.)
(Vasily?)
As Fisk did his work and pulled the cocaine baggie out, Vasily put Seth's broken glasses in his pocket, slung the corpse's bag over his shoulder, and turned to looked at Cassini’s retreating figure.
The shiv was still in his hand. His palms stung. The torn mesh gloves were dripping and soaked.
“Alright.”
(Please don’t hate me.)
There was so much blood. It was fucking everywhere- soaked into everybody’s clothes, sprayed onto Vasily’s face and probably Fisk's, too- it was hard to see when everything’s dark but it was so wet and warm and sticky and-
And Seth was dead.
And Vasily was a murderer.
It was almost fascinating, how the lights in his eyes went out, the moment where a man became nothing more than a sack of flesh and bone and fat.
For a second, he couldn’t help the flash of empathy in him.
What were his last thoughts?
… Probably something really, really fucked up, since he called the two used cumrags and all, but-
No. No. Seth was dead now. Seth was just a piece of meat with F painted onto his forehead. Seth would have died anyways, so it wasn’t like Vasily was any worse than everybody else who wanted to win this game. Seth was just a piece of meat.
(Seth was a boy.)
(A boy that you killed.)
(Admit it.)
(You aren’t doing yourself any favors pretending that you’re another person, Vasily.)
(Vasily?)
As Fisk did his work and pulled the cocaine baggie out, Vasily put Seth's broken glasses in his pocket, slung the corpse's bag over his shoulder, and turned to looked at Cassini’s retreating figure.
The shiv was still in his hand. His palms stung. The torn mesh gloves were dripping and soaked.
“Alright.”
(Please don’t hate me.)