Sylvain didn't look at Mari when she spoke, instead continuing to stare out at the shapes that bobbed and swayed in the night. If not for the wooden deck beneath his feet, he would be floating just like them.
"'Good' isn't a thing that matters," he muttered, half to himself, unsure whether he wanted her to hear.
When you woke up on SOTF... no, earlier than that. As soon as those guys in suits knocked on your front door, while you stood in the kitchen trading jabs with your sister, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing and the toaster to pop, thinking about nothing but cramming breakfast into your mouth and getting to school on time. As soon as you opened the door and saw them and knew who they were, you had to start deciding who you wanted to be.
"Rather be dead than derivative," Sylvain said, voice still low. One of the better lines he'd come up with during his ill-fated venture into poetry. "Rather be... be buried, than bored."
Raising his voice, he continued. "Life is, you know... it's supposed to be an experience. You know? Not an accomplishment."
If nothing else, he guessed he was glad that Mari didn't seem surprised. She knew him, and knew that he'd always been like this.
He didn't care about surviving if he wasn't living. He didn't care about lasting. Sylvain had always wanted to make people feel more than anything else, and people only cared about artists after they were dead, anyway.
If he had said these things out loud to her in any other context, maybe she would have smiled. When he glanced back at her, she was staring at her feet.
"...Are you gonna be real upset if I say I don't want to do that?"
First The Sirens, Then The Lights...
that looks like your ride.................. your ride... (private until the death tag goes up)
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Wham Yubeesling
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“I will, but…”
She sighed.
“It’s your life. You’re free to do what you want. I can’t… stop you, if you don’t want to do this.”
She sighed.
“It’s your life. You’re free to do what you want. I can’t… stop you, if you don’t want to do this.”
The word "sorry" danced on Sylvain's tongue but never passed his lips.
If Mari noticed him moving, she didn't look up. He'd have thought that maybe she knew, and that was why she kept her gaze averted, but truthfully-
Truthfully, until Sylvain pulled the trigger, even he wasn't sure whether or not he was going to.
The crack of the gun drowned out his heartbeat.
If Mari noticed him moving, she didn't look up. He'd have thought that maybe she knew, and that was why she kept her gaze averted, but truthfully-
Truthfully, until Sylvain pulled the trigger, even he wasn't sure whether or not he was going to.
The crack of the gun drowned out his heartbeat.
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Wham Yubeesling
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Wham Yubeesling
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There are quite a lot of things you can say when your friend shoots you in the chest.
You can get thrown to the ground by the force of the bullet. You can find most of your life gone immediately. You can spend the last of your senses trying to find your killer in the haze that your eyesight has become, and you can channel what remains of your lungs into asking your killer one word. Why he just shot you. If that had been his intent all along. If your friendship with him had meant anything, in the end. It was simple — cliche — but effective. You could attain all the information you particularly needed for the last moments of your life. You could leave this world and go to wherever was next on a note that was more than just ‘you died immediately.’ If you wanted to stay on Earth a little while longer, that was a particularly effective method of doing so.
If you didn’t, however, you could simply just have the bullet hit you in the throat or head instead. You can get flung back. You can die quicker than you can come to realize you’ve been shot. Before the pain starts to come in. Before your brain realizes that someone who — if a bit of a jerk, sometimes — had been a good friend these past few years had decided to murder you, just like that. That, too, was effective. A bit too minimalistic, but if you wanted to not have to go through all the effort of reacting to getting shot, it still worked. Still was an effective closer. Still was a decent note, if you wanted to die here or now.
Marion, however, did not do either of those things. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t seen the gun before he fired it. Perhaps it was because there was still she knew she could achieve, now that she was dying. Perhaps — as her body buckled and she dropped backwards to the floor — her mind hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that Sylvain had just shot her. That he had perhaps been planning to kill her during this entire conversation. Perhaps, somewhere unconscious, she was still intent on letting nothing out. Not letting the people behind the cameras see her hair.
So what Marion did, in all actuality, was this: she screamed.
She screamed.
She screamed.
And she screamed.
And she screamed.
You can get thrown to the ground by the force of the bullet. You can find most of your life gone immediately. You can spend the last of your senses trying to find your killer in the haze that your eyesight has become, and you can channel what remains of your lungs into asking your killer one word. Why he just shot you. If that had been his intent all along. If your friendship with him had meant anything, in the end. It was simple — cliche — but effective. You could attain all the information you particularly needed for the last moments of your life. You could leave this world and go to wherever was next on a note that was more than just ‘you died immediately.’ If you wanted to stay on Earth a little while longer, that was a particularly effective method of doing so.
If you didn’t, however, you could simply just have the bullet hit you in the throat or head instead. You can get flung back. You can die quicker than you can come to realize you’ve been shot. Before the pain starts to come in. Before your brain realizes that someone who — if a bit of a jerk, sometimes — had been a good friend these past few years had decided to murder you, just like that. That, too, was effective. A bit too minimalistic, but if you wanted to not have to go through all the effort of reacting to getting shot, it still worked. Still was an effective closer. Still was a decent note, if you wanted to die here or now.
Marion, however, did not do either of those things. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t seen the gun before he fired it. Perhaps it was because there was still she knew she could achieve, now that she was dying. Perhaps — as her body buckled and she dropped backwards to the floor — her mind hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that Sylvain had just shot her. That he had perhaps been planning to kill her during this entire conversation. Perhaps, somewhere unconscious, she was still intent on letting nothing out. Not letting the people behind the cameras see her hair.
So what Marion did, in all actuality, was this: she screamed.
She screamed.
She screamed.
And she screamed.
And she screamed.
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almostinhuman
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(Nadine Flores continued from When Betting On The High Card Pays Off)
The night seemed as serene as could be. After the bedlam of the morning, it was a relief.
Nadine and Rhonda had left shortly after getting Jasper into the ship's cabin. Nadine had claimed it was to search the nearby smaller boats and look for tools to use on the collars, and that was mostly true. Of course, that it got her away from the dead body was an added perk. The trip was a rather quiet affair, at Nadine's own insistence, and little was said between her and Rhonda that wasn't of vital importance. It was the next best thing from what she'd actually wanted; she'd intended to go alone, but Shoshanna had insisted Rhonda accompany her.
She hadn't suggested changing clothes, but she didn't need to. Once they'd put him down, Nadine couldn't change fast enough. The front of her shirt and pants were blackened by Jasper's blood, a permanent reminder of his grisly end. Her other options were limited to some unappealing blue ensemble, a swimsuit, and a costume of... somebody? She didn't recognize it, nor did she really care to know who it was. She settled for it, minus the cape, for lack of anything better.
The day had rolled uneventfully into night by the time Nadine and Rhonda returned to the clipper ship's cabin. Marion had bowed out of the room shortly after the two returned, seemingly as eager to get away from Jasper's body as Nadine had been. She couldn't blame her. With Marion out on the deck, the two discussed with Shoshanna what they'd found while they were out - not much - before hearing what she'd accomplished by fiddling with Jasper's collar - also not much, from the sound of it. The lack of progress was vexing, and Nadine pondered over what their next step could be.
All such thoughts were shattered as a gunshot pierced the night air. A chilling scream was their only accompaniment.
Without thinking, Nadine whirled around and threw open the cabin door. In the moonlight a figure stood some distance away, though any real details were lost in the darkness. Another lay on the floor, shrieking in agony. Though she could make out little in the dark, it was abundantly clear what had happened.
Nadine froze. Dimly, she was aware of the danger she'd just put herself in, but her eyes remained fixed on Marion, and her limbs refused to move.
The night seemed as serene as could be. After the bedlam of the morning, it was a relief.
Nadine and Rhonda had left shortly after getting Jasper into the ship's cabin. Nadine had claimed it was to search the nearby smaller boats and look for tools to use on the collars, and that was mostly true. Of course, that it got her away from the dead body was an added perk. The trip was a rather quiet affair, at Nadine's own insistence, and little was said between her and Rhonda that wasn't of vital importance. It was the next best thing from what she'd actually wanted; she'd intended to go alone, but Shoshanna had insisted Rhonda accompany her.
She hadn't suggested changing clothes, but she didn't need to. Once they'd put him down, Nadine couldn't change fast enough. The front of her shirt and pants were blackened by Jasper's blood, a permanent reminder of his grisly end. Her other options were limited to some unappealing blue ensemble, a swimsuit, and a costume of... somebody? She didn't recognize it, nor did she really care to know who it was. She settled for it, minus the cape, for lack of anything better.
The day had rolled uneventfully into night by the time Nadine and Rhonda returned to the clipper ship's cabin. Marion had bowed out of the room shortly after the two returned, seemingly as eager to get away from Jasper's body as Nadine had been. She couldn't blame her. With Marion out on the deck, the two discussed with Shoshanna what they'd found while they were out - not much - before hearing what she'd accomplished by fiddling with Jasper's collar - also not much, from the sound of it. The lack of progress was vexing, and Nadine pondered over what their next step could be.
All such thoughts were shattered as a gunshot pierced the night air. A chilling scream was their only accompaniment.
Without thinking, Nadine whirled around and threw open the cabin door. In the moonlight a figure stood some distance away, though any real details were lost in the darkness. Another lay on the floor, shrieking in agony. Though she could make out little in the dark, it was abundantly clear what had happened.
Nadine froze. Dimly, she was aware of the danger she'd just put herself in, but her eyes remained fixed on Marion, and her limbs refused to move.
(Rhonda Rollins continued from When Betting On High Card Pays Off)
Trash. Trash. Trash.
Most of the day was spent with that line of thought running through Rhonda's head. Tasked with finding tools to help with their collar experiments, she had headed off with Nadine in hopes of finding something in the nearby ships that could be of use to them. Unfortunately, going with the theme of the last few days, Rhonda wasn't that lucky. Most of the areas she searched were littered with scrap and garbage, but little in the way of anything useful.
She wound up presenting little to show for her efforts, most of which she was positive would be useless in their endeavors. She was more disappointed in herself than the others seemed to be. And since making it back, Rhonda hadn't left the cabin. She just sat with the gun in her lap, wondering if there was anything else that she could do. Yeah, she knew mechanics, but she wasn't sure that would translate to the collars, especially with them not having the biggest wealth of knowledge about them.
The cabin was uncomfortably silent, and Rhonda could sense a similar feeling of unease in the air. Their next step was about as clear as a foggy day. They did admittedly have a collar to work on in the firm of Jasper's, but she felt kind of weird about bringing up the idea, and wasn't sure if just mentioning it out of nowhere would be appropriate, considering she wasn't sure how well the others knew him before he died. Insensitivity was not something that would help her situation.
And then the gunshot happened, and right after that Rhonda jolted from her seat, aiming her own weapon at the door before the realization that it was still closed set in. She followed Nadine's movements, and wound up seeing the same thing she did. Someone standing on deck, while Marion was on the ground, screaming in pain.
Instinct took over at that point, and Rhonda leveled her gun at the mysterious figure. "Get the fuck out!" She barked at them. Her finger was on the trigger, locked in place like a rock.
Trash. Trash. Trash.
Most of the day was spent with that line of thought running through Rhonda's head. Tasked with finding tools to help with their collar experiments, she had headed off with Nadine in hopes of finding something in the nearby ships that could be of use to them. Unfortunately, going with the theme of the last few days, Rhonda wasn't that lucky. Most of the areas she searched were littered with scrap and garbage, but little in the way of anything useful.
She wound up presenting little to show for her efforts, most of which she was positive would be useless in their endeavors. She was more disappointed in herself than the others seemed to be. And since making it back, Rhonda hadn't left the cabin. She just sat with the gun in her lap, wondering if there was anything else that she could do. Yeah, she knew mechanics, but she wasn't sure that would translate to the collars, especially with them not having the biggest wealth of knowledge about them.
The cabin was uncomfortably silent, and Rhonda could sense a similar feeling of unease in the air. Their next step was about as clear as a foggy day. They did admittedly have a collar to work on in the firm of Jasper's, but she felt kind of weird about bringing up the idea, and wasn't sure if just mentioning it out of nowhere would be appropriate, considering she wasn't sure how well the others knew him before he died. Insensitivity was not something that would help her situation.
And then the gunshot happened, and right after that Rhonda jolted from her seat, aiming her own weapon at the door before the realization that it was still closed set in. She followed Nadine's movements, and wound up seeing the same thing she did. Someone standing on deck, while Marion was on the ground, screaming in pain.
Instinct took over at that point, and Rhonda leveled her gun at the mysterious figure. "Get the fuck out!" She barked at them. Her finger was on the trigger, locked in place like a rock.
((Shoshanna Kowalczyk continue from When Betting On the High Card Pays Off))
After the explosive morning, it had been a quiet, contemplative day for Shoshanna. She and Marion spent most of the morning looking over Jasper's collar, and they had learned quite a lot in the process. Definitely not enough to get the bastards off their necks nor enough to make up for their lack of mechanical knowledge, but with the little bit the girls could figure out, they did learn a lot. The tweezers couldn't do much, but there were pinholes they could try to pick later with the right item. The black part was still the clear weak point, and they could make a bit off a buffer between the collar and the neck. Not a lot overall, but they still had enough leads that they could try a test on Jasper in a bit.
Nadine and Rhonda had returned after their day out with very little to show for their journey. Shoshanna had been momentarily hesitant to let Rhonda in once she learned who Rhonda is. However, Shoshanna's notes did remind her that Rhonda's one kill was an accident and a team kill, and considering how quickly Rhonda jumped at the choice to join them, it told her that Rhonda was probably just an unfortunate soul who needed guidance going forward.
Otherwise, it had been a quiet day on the clipper ship. Shoshanna had changed out of her wet clothes into the garrish pink track pants and a dark brown Hershey's t-shirt. It was better than the bright pink t-shirt, but Shoshanna had become a monstrous brown and pink creature, especially with her massive hair tied into a high messy bun with the bandanna holding it up. But she only had to be like this until her clothes and hair were dry, so she could bear with it. But rest assured, once she was back in her original outfit she was destroying these bullshit clothes.
Nadine and Rhonda had returned and Marion stepped out momentarily. Shoshanna had made sure to catch them up on the collars and see what they found. It was then they heard a loud gunshot.
"Fuck! Marion!" she muttered as she and the other girls ran out, with Shoshanna brandishing the flare gun.
They stepped out to see Marion on the ground, bleeding from her stomach, and a boy who was even more of a color disaster than Shoshanna standing there. Rhonda had the big fuck-off gun and was making it clear where he needed to go, so Shoshanna hurried over to Marion.
"Dammit," she muttered, quickly crouching down to put pressure on Marion's wound. "Rhonda! Get rid of him! Nadine! Help me!"
Shoshanna looked around to her allies. They couldn't lose a second member of their group in one day, and if that required them to suddenly learn field triage, then so be it.
After the explosive morning, it had been a quiet, contemplative day for Shoshanna. She and Marion spent most of the morning looking over Jasper's collar, and they had learned quite a lot in the process. Definitely not enough to get the bastards off their necks nor enough to make up for their lack of mechanical knowledge, but with the little bit the girls could figure out, they did learn a lot. The tweezers couldn't do much, but there were pinholes they could try to pick later with the right item. The black part was still the clear weak point, and they could make a bit off a buffer between the collar and the neck. Not a lot overall, but they still had enough leads that they could try a test on Jasper in a bit.
Nadine and Rhonda had returned after their day out with very little to show for their journey. Shoshanna had been momentarily hesitant to let Rhonda in once she learned who Rhonda is. However, Shoshanna's notes did remind her that Rhonda's one kill was an accident and a team kill, and considering how quickly Rhonda jumped at the choice to join them, it told her that Rhonda was probably just an unfortunate soul who needed guidance going forward.
Otherwise, it had been a quiet day on the clipper ship. Shoshanna had changed out of her wet clothes into the garrish pink track pants and a dark brown Hershey's t-shirt. It was better than the bright pink t-shirt, but Shoshanna had become a monstrous brown and pink creature, especially with her massive hair tied into a high messy bun with the bandanna holding it up. But she only had to be like this until her clothes and hair were dry, so she could bear with it. But rest assured, once she was back in her original outfit she was destroying these bullshit clothes.
Nadine and Rhonda had returned and Marion stepped out momentarily. Shoshanna had made sure to catch them up on the collars and see what they found. It was then they heard a loud gunshot.
"Fuck! Marion!" she muttered as she and the other girls ran out, with Shoshanna brandishing the flare gun.
They stepped out to see Marion on the ground, bleeding from her stomach, and a boy who was even more of a color disaster than Shoshanna standing there. Rhonda had the big fuck-off gun and was making it clear where he needed to go, so Shoshanna hurried over to Marion.
"Dammit," she muttered, quickly crouching down to put pressure on Marion's wound. "Rhonda! Get rid of him! Nadine! Help me!"
Shoshanna looked around to her allies. They couldn't lose a second member of their group in one day, and if that required them to suddenly learn field triage, then so be it.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
Even with Sylvain's ears ringing from the gunshot, Mari's scream pierced him. He hadn't expected her to scream. He didn't know why.
It was kinda funny. Not to Sylvain, not while he stood there and stared blankly at Mari, writhing on the ground with her blood creeping across the deck of the ship, but like, funny in a cosmic way. All the hours upon hours that he'd watched of people killing and dying. He knew that bullet wounds, even bad ones, weren't instant death a lot of the time. But he'd kind of hoped.
He hadn't prepared himself properly for the kick of the gun, and it had jarred his wrists. They throbbed in time with his pounding heart.
He could see the question that she didn't ask on her face. It wasn't that he didn't have an answer. He had too many.
Why?
Because she'd annoyed and frustrated him momentarily, and he had the gun in his hands.
Because if he could pour his heart out to anyone, it was her, and she hadn't listened.
Because she'd always been a good friend, except for just now, when she'd refused to hear him and understand.
Because if he could kill her, he could kill anyone.
"I just," Sylvain said underneath Mari's screams and the ringing of his ears. His tongue felt loose, clumsy. Like it wasn't really his. "I just wanted to see what it feels like."
It didn't feel good.
Cool relief washed over him, and he let his arms go limp and fall back to his sides, dragging the weight of the gun along.
If he stood there and stared long enough, maybe he would be able to convince himself later that there was something beautiful about it, something poetic about the blood and the moonlight and the way he hurt, physically, if he could remove Mari's flailing and screaming from the picture. He didn't have time.
Right. They weren't alone.
He didn't parse the words screamed at him exactly, but they snapped him back to reality, and Sylvain bolted for the ladder. Vaulted over the side onto it just like he'd done with the sailboat earlier in the day, failed to account for the gun. Failed to grip anything with that hand and collided with the side of the ship, wrenching his wrist and shoulder on the other side further.
The gun fell from his grasp and clattered against the ship and down to the jetty below, and Sylvain had just enough time to think, god, wouldn't it be the perfect punchline if it landed at just the right angle to go off again and shoot him while he tried to scramble down?
It didn't happen. He managed to clap the newly-freed hand to the side of the ladder and continue his haphazard descent, though he still fell more than climbed the final stretch, landing hard on his feet and not managing to keep his balance. He went down equally hard on one knee and then keeled over to the side.
He lay there, gasping, not seeing anything for a moment, taking the time to realize that despite the fact that one of the people emerging onto the deck had appeared armed, he hadn't been shot. Didn't think he'd even been shot at.
What was an ideal worth, if you weren't willing or able to defend it? Question for the class.
Sylvain dragged himself up, eyes darting around for the gun. He found it and scooped it up. Staggered to his feet. He looked at the jetty, leading away again in a clear, straight line.
Flicked the safety of the gun on - and Jesus, it had been off the whole time, he could have shot himself or anyone else by accident the whole fucking time, god, god - and shoved it into his pocket as deep as he could, trying to ensure it wouldn't slip out.
Into the water, shattering the clear reflection of the night sky. Clinging to the jetty for cover underneath. Black and silver dancing in his vision. Cold.
Hand over hand, he dragged himself away in the dark.
((Sylvain Kessler continued in I'm a bad dream/That I just had today))
It was kinda funny. Not to Sylvain, not while he stood there and stared blankly at Mari, writhing on the ground with her blood creeping across the deck of the ship, but like, funny in a cosmic way. All the hours upon hours that he'd watched of people killing and dying. He knew that bullet wounds, even bad ones, weren't instant death a lot of the time. But he'd kind of hoped.
He hadn't prepared himself properly for the kick of the gun, and it had jarred his wrists. They throbbed in time with his pounding heart.
He could see the question that she didn't ask on her face. It wasn't that he didn't have an answer. He had too many.
Why?
Because she'd annoyed and frustrated him momentarily, and he had the gun in his hands.
Because if he could pour his heart out to anyone, it was her, and she hadn't listened.
Because she'd always been a good friend, except for just now, when she'd refused to hear him and understand.
Because if he could kill her, he could kill anyone.
"I just," Sylvain said underneath Mari's screams and the ringing of his ears. His tongue felt loose, clumsy. Like it wasn't really his. "I just wanted to see what it feels like."
It didn't feel good.
Cool relief washed over him, and he let his arms go limp and fall back to his sides, dragging the weight of the gun along.
If he stood there and stared long enough, maybe he would be able to convince himself later that there was something beautiful about it, something poetic about the blood and the moonlight and the way he hurt, physically, if he could remove Mari's flailing and screaming from the picture. He didn't have time.
Right. They weren't alone.
He didn't parse the words screamed at him exactly, but they snapped him back to reality, and Sylvain bolted for the ladder. Vaulted over the side onto it just like he'd done with the sailboat earlier in the day, failed to account for the gun. Failed to grip anything with that hand and collided with the side of the ship, wrenching his wrist and shoulder on the other side further.
The gun fell from his grasp and clattered against the ship and down to the jetty below, and Sylvain had just enough time to think, god, wouldn't it be the perfect punchline if it landed at just the right angle to go off again and shoot him while he tried to scramble down?
It didn't happen. He managed to clap the newly-freed hand to the side of the ladder and continue his haphazard descent, though he still fell more than climbed the final stretch, landing hard on his feet and not managing to keep his balance. He went down equally hard on one knee and then keeled over to the side.
He lay there, gasping, not seeing anything for a moment, taking the time to realize that despite the fact that one of the people emerging onto the deck had appeared armed, he hadn't been shot. Didn't think he'd even been shot at.
What was an ideal worth, if you weren't willing or able to defend it? Question for the class.
Sylvain dragged himself up, eyes darting around for the gun. He found it and scooped it up. Staggered to his feet. He looked at the jetty, leading away again in a clear, straight line.
Flicked the safety of the gun on - and Jesus, it had been off the whole time, he could have shot himself or anyone else by accident the whole fucking time, god, god - and shoved it into his pocket as deep as he could, trying to ensure it wouldn't slip out.
Into the water, shattering the clear reflection of the night sky. Clinging to the jetty for cover underneath. Black and silver dancing in his vision. Cold.
Hand over hand, he dragged himself away in the dark.
((Sylvain Kessler continued in I'm a bad dream/That I just had today))
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Wham Yubeesling
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And she screamed.
And she screamed.
And she wanted to keep screaming. It was very easy to do so. Her chest had exploded and it hurt far beyond what Marion could describe and yet when she screamed it was like she could ignore it. Feel the pain as if it were happening in a dream. It was a simple flowchart. Effective. Even if you were dying there was not a lot of point in doing so. They were the last moments of your life. Sometimes, even, the most important. Why waste them by thinking about how much everything hurt when there was so much more one could contribute with the end of their story?
Which was why, when the three of them — Nadine, Shoshanna, Rhonda — arrived at Sylvain’s departure, Marion stopped screaming. She was going to die. She’d seen this scene. Someone was dying on the floor and all their allies could do was hold them here for a few more seconds. It was profound. It was heartwrenching. It was cliche, but a fantastic note to go out on. The people behind the cameras would watch with bated breath, wondering whether the impossible could happen. Whether the doomed girl truly could be saved.
Frankly, Marion felt that there were far more productive things that could be done with her time.
“Sho-” Her lungs shut themselves in before she could get the full word out. Apparently talking was a lot different than screaming. “Get- the tweezers. And the other stuff. We-”
Shut. Pry. Reopen.
“We have- a live collar- that we can use.”
And she screamed.
And she wanted to keep screaming. It was very easy to do so. Her chest had exploded and it hurt far beyond what Marion could describe and yet when she screamed it was like she could ignore it. Feel the pain as if it were happening in a dream. It was a simple flowchart. Effective. Even if you were dying there was not a lot of point in doing so. They were the last moments of your life. Sometimes, even, the most important. Why waste them by thinking about how much everything hurt when there was so much more one could contribute with the end of their story?
Which was why, when the three of them — Nadine, Shoshanna, Rhonda — arrived at Sylvain’s departure, Marion stopped screaming. She was going to die. She’d seen this scene. Someone was dying on the floor and all their allies could do was hold them here for a few more seconds. It was profound. It was heartwrenching. It was cliche, but a fantastic note to go out on. The people behind the cameras would watch with bated breath, wondering whether the impossible could happen. Whether the doomed girl truly could be saved.
Frankly, Marion felt that there were far more productive things that could be done with her time.
“Sho-” Her lungs shut themselves in before she could get the full word out. Apparently talking was a lot different than screaming. “Get- the tweezers. And the other stuff. We-”
Shut. Pry. Reopen.
“We have- a live collar- that we can use.”
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almostinhuman
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By the time Nadine could move again, the shooter had already fled. It was just as well. They didn't matter, Marion did.
Shoshanna and Rhonda had rushed out to help Marion and chase the attacker off. Nadine ran back into the cabin, grabbing one of the daypacks lying on the floor. She took out the first aid kit and the flashlight before dropping the pack and rushing back out to Marion's side. She passed the flashlight to Shoshanna and opened the kit, her eyes unable to leave Marion.
The light was quite revealing; the damage was about what she had feared. The bullet had struck Marion square in the chest, the wound bleeding aggressively even despite Shoshanna's attempts to staunch it. Nadine's heart quickened at the sight, knowing what it meant. She had rudimentary first aid knowledge, but this was probably well beyond what she could meaningfully fix. It'd be the difference between a quick death and a slow one.
And from what she had to say, it seemed Marion knew it too.
"That... you mean now?" She tried to sound like she hadn't halfway-thought the same thing. "The collar can wait. The bleeding first."
Shoshanna and Rhonda had rushed out to help Marion and chase the attacker off. Nadine ran back into the cabin, grabbing one of the daypacks lying on the floor. She took out the first aid kit and the flashlight before dropping the pack and rushing back out to Marion's side. She passed the flashlight to Shoshanna and opened the kit, her eyes unable to leave Marion.
The light was quite revealing; the damage was about what she had feared. The bullet had struck Marion square in the chest, the wound bleeding aggressively even despite Shoshanna's attempts to staunch it. Nadine's heart quickened at the sight, knowing what it meant. She had rudimentary first aid knowledge, but this was probably well beyond what she could meaningfully fix. It'd be the difference between a quick death and a slow one.
And from what she had to say, it seemed Marion knew it too.
"That... you mean now?" She tried to sound like she hadn't halfway-thought the same thing. "The collar can wait. The bleeding first."
There were two sounds that permeated the air around the clipper ship. The first was Marion's screams, and the second was Rhonda's shouted threats as she ran towards the intruder's position. They bailed over the side of the ship well before she could reach them, but she kept her shotgun aimed right above the ladder, ready to answer if they popped their stupid head back up. Honestly, she wished that they would have been slower so that she could have beat some sense into them with the butt of her gun, but things don't always turn out her way, especially as of late.
They didn't come back, and Rhonda wasn't dumb enough to poke her head over the railing in case they stuck around waiting for an easy target. It sucked, but she had to let them get away. But at least with the threat gone for now, she could provide more support to the other major issue they were dealing with at the moment. She started walking back, spun around and aimed back to make sure that she was safe, then went to rejoin the others around the injured Marion.
Marion's injury was already a bad sign. Rhonda got the feeling that she was the ringleader of the group, so her getting hurt was already a blow to morale. She wasn't sure how well-equipped they were to handle it, either. They had their collective medkits, sure, and Rhonda had what little knowledge she had from patching her own wounds. But even with that, she had only gotten grazed. Marion had taken a shot to the chest, and they had to pray as hard as they could that the bullet had managed to miss anything vital.
But even with how bad things looked, Rhonda was shocked by what Marion suggested. Her mouth dropped ever so slightly into a gape as she processed what Marion was suggesting. "Dude..." She said in disbelief. Was Marion disoriented from the shot, or was she really suggesting what Rhonda thought she was? "That's way too risky. If we don't have it right then, y'know..."
They didn't come back, and Rhonda wasn't dumb enough to poke her head over the railing in case they stuck around waiting for an easy target. It sucked, but she had to let them get away. But at least with the threat gone for now, she could provide more support to the other major issue they were dealing with at the moment. She started walking back, spun around and aimed back to make sure that she was safe, then went to rejoin the others around the injured Marion.
Marion's injury was already a bad sign. Rhonda got the feeling that she was the ringleader of the group, so her getting hurt was already a blow to morale. She wasn't sure how well-equipped they were to handle it, either. They had their collective medkits, sure, and Rhonda had what little knowledge she had from patching her own wounds. But even with that, she had only gotten grazed. Marion had taken a shot to the chest, and they had to pray as hard as they could that the bullet had managed to miss anything vital.
But even with how bad things looked, Rhonda was shocked by what Marion suggested. Her mouth dropped ever so slightly into a gape as she processed what Marion was suggesting. "Dude..." She said in disbelief. Was Marion disoriented from the shot, or was she really suggesting what Rhonda thought she was? "That's way too risky. If we don't have it right then, y'know..."
Shoshanna continued to put pressure on the wound. Her eyes kept darting around the area, trying to see where the other girls and the attacker had gone. When Nadine returned with the kit and handed Shoshanna the flashlight, Shoshanna had to find herself feeling a bit woozy. It was a pretty bad gut shot, and at best, the girls would probably only be able to do minor care until Marion passed.
Shoshanna was prepared to start her bedside manner when Marion presented an alternative option to their panicking: remove Marion's collar right now.
Nadine and Rhonda both voiced their disagreement with the plan. Neither girl wanted to test it right now, wanting to focus on Marion's injury. Shoshanna could understand what they were doing. The idea of testing on a live person was a risky idea. Ashley Sanderson had shown that back in Season 58, testing it on Pearl and Jude. This wasn't a Jude situation, though. This was a Pearl Clemson moment, and that made it somewhat worse.
Marion was a living, dying being. They could make a promise to get Marion to the show medics if they got the collar off, but they didn't have as much time or any indication where in the limits of the arena the staff could pick them up. Plus, all they had right now were theories to get the collar off, so the odds were that they'd set it off and only speed up Marion's end.
Marion was going to die here, no matter what they chose. Shoshanna accepted it right then. After all, she had studied this show enough to know there were times to put emotions aside and be cold and logical. Still, she had to show some compassion to her ally in her last moments.
Shoshanna closed her eyes, breathed in and out.
"Marion," Shoshanna began, "right now, we don't have many ideas to get the collars off, and even if we do get yours off, I don't think we'll be able to get you to the medical team in time. Are you absolutely sure you want us to get your collar off right now?"
She'd leave the choice to Marion. If this was the dying girl's final request, Shoshanna would do her damnedest to fulfill it.
Shoshanna was prepared to start her bedside manner when Marion presented an alternative option to their panicking: remove Marion's collar right now.
Nadine and Rhonda both voiced their disagreement with the plan. Neither girl wanted to test it right now, wanting to focus on Marion's injury. Shoshanna could understand what they were doing. The idea of testing on a live person was a risky idea. Ashley Sanderson had shown that back in Season 58, testing it on Pearl and Jude. This wasn't a Jude situation, though. This was a Pearl Clemson moment, and that made it somewhat worse.
Marion was a living, dying being. They could make a promise to get Marion to the show medics if they got the collar off, but they didn't have as much time or any indication where in the limits of the arena the staff could pick them up. Plus, all they had right now were theories to get the collar off, so the odds were that they'd set it off and only speed up Marion's end.
Marion was going to die here, no matter what they chose. Shoshanna accepted it right then. After all, she had studied this show enough to know there were times to put emotions aside and be cold and logical. Still, she had to show some compassion to her ally in her last moments.
Shoshanna closed her eyes, breathed in and out.
"Marion," Shoshanna began, "right now, we don't have many ideas to get the collars off, and even if we do get yours off, I don't think we'll be able to get you to the medical team in time. Are you absolutely sure you want us to get your collar off right now?"
She'd leave the choice to Marion. If this was the dying girl's final request, Shoshanna would do her damnedest to fulfill it.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1257
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
"Do it. Doesn't-"
Cough.
"Matter if it works or not. You get-"
Cough. Cough.
"A chance to try."
Cough.
"Matter if it works or not. You get-"
Cough. Cough.
"A chance to try."
Shoshanna stared at the dying girl. Marion didn't care about the risks to her life. She seemed to accept she was going to die here, and it looks like she was prepared to use her remaining time to aid them. It was a noble move on her part, and Shoshanna had to respect the hell out of it. It was a chance worth taking, and if they had her consent, then they needed to get to work.
"Okay, let me try something..."
Shoshanna quickly turned the flashlight to the first aid kit Nadine brought out. She only had a few ideas and notes from when she and Marion spent the day analyzing Jasper's collar. Her notes were still in the cabin, so she had to look over what they had on hand, and what Shoshanna could remember.
She moved the flashlight over the items in the kit, then back to Marion.
"Excuse me for what I'm about to do."
Shoshanna moved her other hand off Marion's hand and towards the girl's hijab. She didn't know a whole lot about the finer points of the Muslim faith, but she was sure that trying to remove the girl's hijab would be a massively disrespectful thing to do in her last moments. Marion deserved all her respect for what she was offering to them.
With the hijab pulled up enough so Marion's collar was now exposed, Shoshanna shone the flashlight on the device. She moved it over, then found what she was looking for.
"Nadine, Rhonda, listen to me," she said. "There are these pinholes in the collar. If we jam something in there, maybe we'll disable something. The tweezers didn't work, but maybe the sewing needle that's inside will work."
Shoshanna turned to Nadine.
"Pass me the needle and the lighter," Shoshanna told her. "I'm gonna heat the end of it before I insert it."
She held the flashlight out to Nadine.
"I'll need you to hold this so I can see where I'm working. Rhonda, try to hold Marion to the floor so she doesn't spasm."
Shoshanna looked to Marion.
"Just hang tight. We've got it all worked out."
"Okay, let me try something..."
Shoshanna quickly turned the flashlight to the first aid kit Nadine brought out. She only had a few ideas and notes from when she and Marion spent the day analyzing Jasper's collar. Her notes were still in the cabin, so she had to look over what they had on hand, and what Shoshanna could remember.
She moved the flashlight over the items in the kit, then back to Marion.
"Excuse me for what I'm about to do."
Shoshanna moved her other hand off Marion's hand and towards the girl's hijab. She didn't know a whole lot about the finer points of the Muslim faith, but she was sure that trying to remove the girl's hijab would be a massively disrespectful thing to do in her last moments. Marion deserved all her respect for what she was offering to them.
With the hijab pulled up enough so Marion's collar was now exposed, Shoshanna shone the flashlight on the device. She moved it over, then found what she was looking for.
"Nadine, Rhonda, listen to me," she said. "There are these pinholes in the collar. If we jam something in there, maybe we'll disable something. The tweezers didn't work, but maybe the sewing needle that's inside will work."
Shoshanna turned to Nadine.
"Pass me the needle and the lighter," Shoshanna told her. "I'm gonna heat the end of it before I insert it."
She held the flashlight out to Nadine.
"I'll need you to hold this so I can see where I'm working. Rhonda, try to hold Marion to the floor so she doesn't spasm."
Shoshanna looked to Marion.
"Just hang tight. We've got it all worked out."
G014: Mayumi Tendou