Yagmur remembered when he was willing to grant this...rather unique young lady the benefit of the doubt. Up until her last mini-monologue, he'd even been willing to give her respect for embracing her individuality, making the most of the rather dire circumstances, not falling into the standard playing-the-game mindset that had claimed many weaker personalities.
Hell, she called it a farce. That was something he respected.
Then she began rambling about blood and setting up shitty joke punch-lines.
He patted Bella on the back, and whispered to her. "Yeah, we should get away from her ASAP. Don't really think we stand much to gain from her continued company." He almost left the whispering position, before leaning back in to add a polite "Sorry if she's one of your friends from back home, but yeah, she's making me uncomfortable, to be completely honest with you."
So he walked past Bella, into the bulk of the casino itself, making sure to give the crazy girl a wide berth, flashing her a polite nod just in case she decided to look at him.
I (Don't) Remember
(Nor Do) I Recall
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
At first Ana’s response seemed relatively normal, at least by comparison to earlier. It was clear she was depressed, though. That bit about the cold told her that something had happened, definitely. Again, Bella didn’t know if any of the bodies scattered around her were her friends. She couldn’t tell from here.
Then Ana opened her mouth again, and any hope of having a conversation that wouldn’t end in violence ended.
The worst part seemed to be how… excited she seemed. Like she wanted to see people die. Bella’s face grew pale as she rambled on, repeating that one word over and over. Nothing was going to be spewed here, not by Yagmur or her, as far as Bella was concerned. Even if she did feel a little nauseous. It was a feeling she was used to by this point, though. Yet, it somewhat increased as Ana talked.
Bella flinched as something patted her on the back. Then relaxed somewhat. Just Yagmur. He echoed what she was thinking right now. Bella really didn’t want to hear the punchline to Ana’s “joke”. Or continue the conversation any further, to be honest.
“Agreed”, she whispered back.
Bella felt her fists tighten around the pogo stick as she followed Yagmur, hesitancy still in her step. Her eyes still locked on to Ana, to see if she was going to do anything. She hoped that Ana wasn’t going to continue talking.
“Where should we go?” she asked Yagmur, still keeping her voice down.
Hopefully it was somewhere where Ana wouldn’t follow. Maybe there was another staff room, or anything.
Then Ana opened her mouth again, and any hope of having a conversation that wouldn’t end in violence ended.
The worst part seemed to be how… excited she seemed. Like she wanted to see people die. Bella’s face grew pale as she rambled on, repeating that one word over and over. Nothing was going to be spewed here, not by Yagmur or her, as far as Bella was concerned. Even if she did feel a little nauseous. It was a feeling she was used to by this point, though. Yet, it somewhat increased as Ana talked.
Bella flinched as something patted her on the back. Then relaxed somewhat. Just Yagmur. He echoed what she was thinking right now. Bella really didn’t want to hear the punchline to Ana’s “joke”. Or continue the conversation any further, to be honest.
“Agreed”, she whispered back.
Bella felt her fists tighten around the pogo stick as she followed Yagmur, hesitancy still in her step. Her eyes still locked on to Ana, to see if she was going to do anything. She hoped that Ana wasn’t going to continue talking.
“Where should we go?” she asked Yagmur, still keeping her voice down.
Hopefully it was somewhere where Ana wouldn’t follow. Maybe there was another staff room, or anything.
Anarchy’s rambling didn’t signify anything different from before, the more he heard the better he felt about his decision to go with Anzu. It was horrible but altruistically regarding Ana was not on his list of priorities. As he navigated past the poker machines and looked past the railing, he expected to see Anarchy but instead found two other people moving somewhat closer towards them. He didn’t stop to take too good a look at them, though he had the nagging feeling that he’d seen the boy at school before.
He stepped back quickly, for now he hoped to keep out of their line of sight. He looked over to Anzu, making a stopping gesture with his hands as he hastily started to move around between the poker machines.
“Company, two, not anarchy…” He hissed, his voice low and quiet. Though, it would have been a wonder if she had heard him properly past the music.
His initial thought was to leave, to grab Anzu by the arm and then bolt out of the casino, but then his mind recalled the weather. He could not ascertain if there was a better place to run towards, there were now very few by what he had heard on the announcements. He could feel the anxiety rising, part of him started to think it would be better to shoot while he had the opportunity, it was the same part of him that considered leaving anarchy to freeze in the snow.
That part wanted to spur him into action, to stop feeling pity and just move forward, to simply forget about the sunshine tower and just set into motion. He made his body move, it was an abrupt turn, he wanted to look again and decide. He didn’t stay aware of his surroundings, as the butt of his gun impacted on one of the poker machines. He was too busy thinking until it was too late, his eyes widened as he heard the loud clanging sound but soon shifted to a wince. He hoped that the other two were far enough and saloon music was loud enough to fully muffle his mistake.
He probably looked as disoriented to Anzu as he felt.
He stepped back quickly, for now he hoped to keep out of their line of sight. He looked over to Anzu, making a stopping gesture with his hands as he hastily started to move around between the poker machines.
“Company, two, not anarchy…” He hissed, his voice low and quiet. Though, it would have been a wonder if she had heard him properly past the music.
His initial thought was to leave, to grab Anzu by the arm and then bolt out of the casino, but then his mind recalled the weather. He could not ascertain if there was a better place to run towards, there were now very few by what he had heard on the announcements. He could feel the anxiety rising, part of him started to think it would be better to shoot while he had the opportunity, it was the same part of him that considered leaving anarchy to freeze in the snow.
That part wanted to spur him into action, to stop feeling pity and just move forward, to simply forget about the sunshine tower and just set into motion. He made his body move, it was an abrupt turn, he wanted to look again and decide. He didn’t stay aware of his surroundings, as the butt of his gun impacted on one of the poker machines. He was too busy thinking until it was too late, his eyes widened as he heard the loud clanging sound but soon shifted to a wince. He hoped that the other two were far enough and saloon music was loud enough to fully muffle his mistake.
He probably looked as disoriented to Anzu as he felt.
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Yagmur was a naturally suspicious guy. He was always on edge, always looking out for a threat, and in the real world that normally materialised in the form of a noted vulnerability to implausible-yet-still-oddly-convincing conspiracy theories and intense privacy measures on his electronic devices. In the world of SOTF, however, his short fuse and limited capacity for extended trust circles had probably been a boon.
So when he heard a clatter, with no accompanying greetings or any discernible talking, from the upper floors of the casino, his paranoia kicked into action. He had to protect himself, and Bella, from whatever threats were there (he was less concerned about moonbat-girl - he didn't have any attachment to her, amusing eccentricities aside - and had been trying in vain to avoid inevitably heartbreaking attachments all game and he'd failed on that front but christ he knew it was smart to keep on trying).
So he raised his gun.
"Whoever's there, come on out!"
He nodded to Bella, motioning her to get to safety, or a better vantage point, or whatever. He glanced at Ana, but only to make sure she wasn't going to cross the line from harmless-crazy to psychopath-crazy.
"I'll give you five seconds!"
After he said that, he realised it was a stupid mistake.
"Four!"
Hell, they had the high ground.
"Three!"
And knew where he was.
"Two!"
And shit, he didn't even know what was at the end of the count-down.
"One!"
He had to do something or else his threats would appear meaningless.
"Okay, I warned you!"
He fired into the fruit machines up above, where the clatter had come from.
So when he heard a clatter, with no accompanying greetings or any discernible talking, from the upper floors of the casino, his paranoia kicked into action. He had to protect himself, and Bella, from whatever threats were there (he was less concerned about moonbat-girl - he didn't have any attachment to her, amusing eccentricities aside - and had been trying in vain to avoid inevitably heartbreaking attachments all game and he'd failed on that front but christ he knew it was smart to keep on trying).
So he raised his gun.
"Whoever's there, come on out!"
He nodded to Bella, motioning her to get to safety, or a better vantage point, or whatever. He glanced at Ana, but only to make sure she wasn't going to cross the line from harmless-crazy to psychopath-crazy.
"I'll give you five seconds!"
After he said that, he realised it was a stupid mistake.
"Four!"
Hell, they had the high ground.
"Three!"
And knew where he was.
"Two!"
And shit, he didn't even know what was at the end of the count-down.
"One!"
He had to do something or else his threats would appear meaningless.
"Okay, I warned you!"
He fired into the fruit machines up above, where the clatter had come from.
Yagmur didn't answer her question. Instead, he seemed to have his gaze drawn upwards. Bella followed, and saw that there were a few shapes up there. As if a crazy and potentially violent Ana wasn't enough, there were more people here. She couldn't make out who they were from here, but her grip on the pogo stick tightened even further.
He called out to them. Bella stood for a few seconds, feeling her heart racing again. Ambush attacks weren't anything new, not in SOTF, so for all she knew they could have been preparing to shoot them. She felt her body grow tense, as if ready to run for it or fight back, even if she couldn't from where she was standing.
Another look at Ana. Then back at the shapes.
She stepped backwards, and then turned. There was a Big Six wheel, only a foot behind them.
Her feet stomped as she slid herself behind it. She wasn't sure how good the coverage was on it, but it could provide some shelter for the time behind in case they...
Shot back.
Yagmur had already shot at them, and she didn't know if they had guns on them. They could, for all they knew.
Once again, a chill ran up and down her body as she crouched behind the wheel, eyes wide.
Yagmur could get hurt, she realized. Both of them could. She had a feeling it wasn't going to go down well. It could mean losing Yagmur, or her getting killed, or one of the other people getting shot.
So she waited. If they shot back and it didn't feel like the wheel was a good place to hide, she would move, and move quickly. There were a few roulette and poker tables scattered about, so if she had to, she could just crawl out.
He called out to them. Bella stood for a few seconds, feeling her heart racing again. Ambush attacks weren't anything new, not in SOTF, so for all she knew they could have been preparing to shoot them. She felt her body grow tense, as if ready to run for it or fight back, even if she couldn't from where she was standing.
Another look at Ana. Then back at the shapes.
She stepped backwards, and then turned. There was a Big Six wheel, only a foot behind them.
Her feet stomped as she slid herself behind it. She wasn't sure how good the coverage was on it, but it could provide some shelter for the time behind in case they...
Shot back.
Yagmur had already shot at them, and she didn't know if they had guns on them. They could, for all they knew.
Once again, a chill ran up and down her body as she crouched behind the wheel, eyes wide.
Yagmur could get hurt, she realized. Both of them could. She had a feeling it wasn't going to go down well. It could mean losing Yagmur, or her getting killed, or one of the other people getting shot.
So she waited. If they shot back and it didn't feel like the wheel was a good place to hide, she would move, and move quickly. There were a few roulette and poker tables scattered about, so if she had to, she could just crawl out.
Corin had already started moving while Yagmur had been counting down, using the time he was giving him and using the machines as cover to move while avoiding his line of sight. He forced himself to swallow a shriek that threatened to part from his lips as he heard Yagmur’s gun go off. The bullet struck too close to where he was originally for him to feel anything but mortal fear, and at this point it seemed as good a declaration of hostility as any. He kept low and circled around, at the least all of the lights, noises and machines in the casino made for a decent amount of distraction.
His mind didn’t have time to think of anything as noble as keeping his companion safe. He was hardly thinking past the part of him that was shrieking to kill the dangerous things below them, or anything that moved down there in general. He was thinking of his own hide, not purposefully disregarding Anzu, but any safety that he could provide with his actions was purely coincidental at this point.
There was a rising sense of urgency as he crouched low near the railing and looked through the scope. Seeking until Bella passed his crosshairs in order to take cover behind the wheel, anything that moved down there was fine, he repeated to himself internally as he disengaged the safety and moved his line of sight to where she was settled. He aligned the shot and placed a finger over the trigger, not giving himself the time to think of it, just telling himself to get it done. He could look away when it was over, her face could haunt him when she was no longer a factor.
For just a few seconds there was a lull in the back of his mind. However, when it ended and he finished exhaling, his finger had already finished pulling the trigger. As the blast rang out through the building, and he was finally able to stop looking at Bella.
His mind didn’t have time to think of anything as noble as keeping his companion safe. He was hardly thinking past the part of him that was shrieking to kill the dangerous things below them, or anything that moved down there in general. He was thinking of his own hide, not purposefully disregarding Anzu, but any safety that he could provide with his actions was purely coincidental at this point.
There was a rising sense of urgency as he crouched low near the railing and looked through the scope. Seeking until Bella passed his crosshairs in order to take cover behind the wheel, anything that moved down there was fine, he repeated to himself internally as he disengaged the safety and moved his line of sight to where she was settled. He aligned the shot and placed a finger over the trigger, not giving himself the time to think of it, just telling himself to get it done. He could look away when it was over, her face could haunt him when she was no longer a factor.
For just a few seconds there was a lull in the back of his mind. However, when it ended and he finished exhaling, his finger had already finished pulling the trigger. As the blast rang out through the building, and he was finally able to stop looking at Bella.
-
delicateMachine
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: void
Anzu had been hanging back from the railing, figuring that Corin had things handled, and that one figure was much less noticeable than two. The incessant music was just as insufferable as it had been during Anzu's first stay at the casino, and it was a struggle to hear Corin's report to her. If she understood him correctly, there were two people below, and they weren't fighting? 'Not Anarchy' was a weird way to phrase that, but whatever.
She was just about to suggest to Corin that they cut their losses and seek shelter elsewhere when his gun bumped into a slot machine, prompting an angry voice (Yagmur?) from below to start counting down. Another sign that it was time to get the hell outta there. Anzu began to creep back towards the stairs, down to the back exit where they had entered, but was quickly forced into cover behind the fruit machines by an explosion of gunfire, one bullet ricocheting off a nearby fruits machine, far too close to comfort.
With an undignified shriek of panic, Anzu ducked down behind the machine, trying to make herself as small a target as possible, trembling fingers gripped tightly around the stock of her pistol. She had never before heard gunfire in person, had never thought it'd be so loud. Christ, it sounded like someone was bombing the place. Her ears ringing, she could see Corin returning fire to the casino below.
Anzu knew that she should try to help him, but every instinct in her body was screaming at her to stay still, to do anything but get any closer to the source of the deafening gunfire. She had always thought herself to be on the "Fight" side of "Fight or Flight", but the situation had proven her quite wrong. It was all she could do to stop from just fleeing in a blind panic down the stairs.
Before Anzu had any chance to gather her resolve and join Corin, she heard a hellish scream from downstairs. Fuck, whatever Corin had hit, somebody definitely wasn't happy about it. Anzu braced herself against the return salvo, but it never came. Instead, there was a blur of motion as someone raged up the stairs, charging straight into Anzu and easily knocking her over with another yell.
Her gun was knocked across the floor, just out of her reach, and Anzu caught only a glimpse of the enraged Yagmur as she desperately scrambled to retrieve the pistol and defend herself.
She was just about to suggest to Corin that they cut their losses and seek shelter elsewhere when his gun bumped into a slot machine, prompting an angry voice (Yagmur?) from below to start counting down. Another sign that it was time to get the hell outta there. Anzu began to creep back towards the stairs, down to the back exit where they had entered, but was quickly forced into cover behind the fruit machines by an explosion of gunfire, one bullet ricocheting off a nearby fruits machine, far too close to comfort.
With an undignified shriek of panic, Anzu ducked down behind the machine, trying to make herself as small a target as possible, trembling fingers gripped tightly around the stock of her pistol. She had never before heard gunfire in person, had never thought it'd be so loud. Christ, it sounded like someone was bombing the place. Her ears ringing, she could see Corin returning fire to the casino below.
Anzu knew that she should try to help him, but every instinct in her body was screaming at her to stay still, to do anything but get any closer to the source of the deafening gunfire. She had always thought herself to be on the "Fight" side of "Fight or Flight", but the situation had proven her quite wrong. It was all she could do to stop from just fleeing in a blind panic down the stairs.
Before Anzu had any chance to gather her resolve and join Corin, she heard a hellish scream from downstairs. Fuck, whatever Corin had hit, somebody definitely wasn't happy about it. Anzu braced herself against the return salvo, but it never came. Instead, there was a blur of motion as someone raged up the stairs, charging straight into Anzu and easily knocking her over with another yell.
Her gun was knocked across the floor, just out of her reach, and Anzu caught only a glimpse of the enraged Yagmur as she desperately scrambled to retrieve the pistol and defend herself.
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
They were attacked.
Bella was attacked.
He didn't see who. He had no time, no patience, to process the severity of the damage, or think about strategy, or anything stupid like that. The possibility she was dead, or may still be alive, or his senses were lying him...they weren't relevant right now. This was not the time or the place for deep introspective thought, and if you don't like that, sorry, Yagmur is not your sort of guy right now.
He saw stairs. Stairs to where the shots came from. Stairs to where that murderous fuck was.
He saw stairs, and bolted towards them.
That was as complex as his thinking was.
He charged towards the source of the gun-fire, the source of the disturbance, where he thought the attacker to be. Some slot machines and chairs and other shit were in the way. He charged through them.
And finally, he hit flesh.
Anzu.
It must be her.
It hurt to know she'd gone so...wrong, but now wasn't the time for mourning or pondering.
He raised his gun.
Three shots.
Bella was attacked.
He didn't see who. He had no time, no patience, to process the severity of the damage, or think about strategy, or anything stupid like that. The possibility she was dead, or may still be alive, or his senses were lying him...they weren't relevant right now. This was not the time or the place for deep introspective thought, and if you don't like that, sorry, Yagmur is not your sort of guy right now.
He saw stairs. Stairs to where the shots came from. Stairs to where that murderous fuck was.
He saw stairs, and bolted towards them.
That was as complex as his thinking was.
He charged towards the source of the gun-fire, the source of the disturbance, where he thought the attacker to be. Some slot machines and chairs and other shit were in the way. He charged through them.
And finally, he hit flesh.
Anzu.
It must be her.
It hurt to know she'd gone so...wrong, but now wasn't the time for mourning or pondering.
He raised his gun.
Three shots.
-
delicateMachine
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:26 pm
- Location: void
It was close. Given another few seconds, Anzu very well might have made it out. She managed to get a hold of the gun, recover her balance, spin around to raise her gun and stare straight into Yagmur's hateful eyes. Her finger curled around the trigger-
His first shot caught her in the left arm, the impact knocking the gun from her hands. The second and third, the gut, sending her stumbling back against the wall, coughing up blood. The fourth shot never came, and Anzu clung to the strength she had left to stand defiantly, facing Yagmur.
There was no fear left, only a grim certainty. It didn't hurt, not quite. That would come later, after the shock had worn off, assuming Anzu lasted that long. Yagmur wanted to be the righteous avenger, to blindly strike out against what he deemed responsible for the whole mess?
Well, Anzu had been there, and she had no sympathy. She wouldn't simply be a target to strike, something fragile to smash. Yagmur could keep his rage, but Anzu would ensure he choked on it. "I. Didn't. Shoot." She forced out, glaring at him before coming down with another coughing fit, her legs losing strength, her back slipping down against the wall as she blacked out, slipping away into blissful unconsciousness.
-
No. There was no fucking way that was all. If Anzu was going out, and there was no doubt about that, now, it wouldn't be with a whimper.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Anzu forced her eyes back open. Yagmur's back, turned to her, walking away as he clearly planned on leaving her for dead. That'd be his last mistake. Ashley's gun was still hidden in her clothing. She still had one final chance to spite her killer.
She unholstered the gun, aiming it square at Yagmur. At this distance, all she had to do was pull the trigger and the shot was almost guaranteed to hit.
Anzu hesitated. This wasn't right, either. A downed contestant taking their killer down with them? Why, what better television was there? No doubt the news would eat that shit up, plastering her face and Yagmur's all across the screen, chastising him for leaving her alive.
No, Yagmur wasn't the one at fault here, not really. If Anzu had one last chance to fuck shit it up, it would be aimed at someone who really deserved it. She grinned despite herself, eyeing the camera mounted on the wall opposite her. Ashley's pistol had killed two members of Scarlet Devil Mansion, and it was about to finish off a third.
One shot for those who had applauded Gene as he shoved Valerie down the stairs.
A second, straight to the heart, for those who had cheered as Caroline bled out on the floor, permanently fracturing the band.
A third for those who had egged Ashley and Sarah on as they fought to the death, relishing in the spectacle of a team-kill.
A fourth for those enjoying Anzu's quiet whimpers of pain as she was struck.
A fifth, in general, to bid adieu to the fuckers that thought it was funny.
Finally, a sixth, this one aimed at her own collar, to deny the technician who was about to push the button he'd been wanting to hit ever since he first got accepted for the job.
AE4 ANZU SAKAMOTO - DETONATED.
His first shot caught her in the left arm, the impact knocking the gun from her hands. The second and third, the gut, sending her stumbling back against the wall, coughing up blood. The fourth shot never came, and Anzu clung to the strength she had left to stand defiantly, facing Yagmur.
There was no fear left, only a grim certainty. It didn't hurt, not quite. That would come later, after the shock had worn off, assuming Anzu lasted that long. Yagmur wanted to be the righteous avenger, to blindly strike out against what he deemed responsible for the whole mess?
Well, Anzu had been there, and she had no sympathy. She wouldn't simply be a target to strike, something fragile to smash. Yagmur could keep his rage, but Anzu would ensure he choked on it. "I. Didn't. Shoot." She forced out, glaring at him before coming down with another coughing fit, her legs losing strength, her back slipping down against the wall as she blacked out, slipping away into blissful unconsciousness.
-
No. There was no fucking way that was all. If Anzu was going out, and there was no doubt about that, now, it wouldn't be with a whimper.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Anzu forced her eyes back open. Yagmur's back, turned to her, walking away as he clearly planned on leaving her for dead. That'd be his last mistake. Ashley's gun was still hidden in her clothing. She still had one final chance to spite her killer.
She unholstered the gun, aiming it square at Yagmur. At this distance, all she had to do was pull the trigger and the shot was almost guaranteed to hit.
Anzu hesitated. This wasn't right, either. A downed contestant taking their killer down with them? Why, what better television was there? No doubt the news would eat that shit up, plastering her face and Yagmur's all across the screen, chastising him for leaving her alive.
No, Yagmur wasn't the one at fault here, not really. If Anzu had one last chance to fuck shit it up, it would be aimed at someone who really deserved it. She grinned despite herself, eyeing the camera mounted on the wall opposite her. Ashley's pistol had killed two members of Scarlet Devil Mansion, and it was about to finish off a third.
One shot for those who had applauded Gene as he shoved Valerie down the stairs.
A second, straight to the heart, for those who had cheered as Caroline bled out on the floor, permanently fracturing the band.
A third for those who had egged Ashley and Sarah on as they fought to the death, relishing in the spectacle of a team-kill.
A fourth for those enjoying Anzu's quiet whimpers of pain as she was struck.
A fifth, in general, to bid adieu to the fuckers that thought it was funny.
Finally, a sixth, this one aimed at her own collar, to deny the technician who was about to push the button he'd been wanting to hit ever since he first got accepted for the job.
AE4 ANZU SAKAMOTO - DETONATED.
A crack filled the air. It was swiftly followed by a loud shriek that echoed throughout the casino.
Bella fell to the ground on her side, the pogo stick landing a foot away from her.
Many times since she had first woken up, Bella had wondered what it was like to get shot. It was mostly morbid curiosity. She knew that the risk was there. She’d seen the show before, but it didn’t take an in-depth analysis to realize that guns were involved. Sometimes, when she thought about the idea of getting shot, or getting murdered in general, it only gave her a feeling of dread. Perhaps, more recently, she wanted someone to, just to get the worst parts over with.
Now that it had happened though, it was more pain than she would have thought.
Her hand slid to her stomach, feeling it stick against the fabric of her dress. Red mixed and mingled with the blue and pink, then dripped towards the floor. Her heart was beating, faster than ever. Faster than she ever thought possible. The sound of her own labored breathing almost overpowered the saloon music.
Her vision blurred. Even then, she saw a dark shape move away from her, and climb upstairs. Joining the sounds were more gun shots.
So this was it, then. She was going to die, right here, on the floor. What was she thinking, that the wheel would keep her covered? It was another stupid, stupid mistake she made. Just one out of a long list.
Bella closed her eyes. It only made her more aware of the tears and snot running down her face. The pain dulled, but not by much.
The tears eventually became loud sobs accompanying the gunshots.
Bella fell to the ground on her side, the pogo stick landing a foot away from her.
Many times since she had first woken up, Bella had wondered what it was like to get shot. It was mostly morbid curiosity. She knew that the risk was there. She’d seen the show before, but it didn’t take an in-depth analysis to realize that guns were involved. Sometimes, when she thought about the idea of getting shot, or getting murdered in general, it only gave her a feeling of dread. Perhaps, more recently, she wanted someone to, just to get the worst parts over with.
Now that it had happened though, it was more pain than she would have thought.
Her hand slid to her stomach, feeling it stick against the fabric of her dress. Red mixed and mingled with the blue and pink, then dripped towards the floor. Her heart was beating, faster than ever. Faster than she ever thought possible. The sound of her own labored breathing almost overpowered the saloon music.
Her vision blurred. Even then, she saw a dark shape move away from her, and climb upstairs. Joining the sounds were more gun shots.
So this was it, then. She was going to die, right here, on the floor. What was she thinking, that the wheel would keep her covered? It was another stupid, stupid mistake she made. Just one out of a long list.
Bella closed her eyes. It only made her more aware of the tears and snot running down her face. The pain dulled, but not by much.
The tears eventually became loud sobs accompanying the gunshots.
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
He'd meant to turn back around.
To apologise.
It wouldn't have done much, but he owed Anzu that much.
She hadn't deserved that - it went without saying none of them deserved the experience of the resort, but she hadn't deserved to be killed in a brutal case of mistaken identity, with no chance to defend herself or stand up or even get in a few last moments of peace and introspection.
He wasn't walking away, he had no intention of leaving her for dead, of leaving anyone for dead if he could help it, he wasn't that sort of coward.
But the shock of her revelation, the pain of realising the instincts he'd honed during his time in the resort, instincts that he had convinced himself were necessary to survival and protecting those he cared about, the pain of realising those instincts were counterproductive and useless, the horror of realising he'd just brutally and fatally shot an innocent woman - that hurt.
And he was the sort of coward that couldn't look someone in the eye after that.
So he had turned around, head in his hand, and taken a couple of steps forward, out of habit more than anything else.
And then the shots.
He swung around, with a dexterity the injured and exhausted Yagmur was surprised to find he still had.
And Anzu had done something he'd wanted to do all game, something that he thought was heroic and brilliant and generally awesome. She shot the camera, and had her collar detonated as a result.
Damn it, she was a better person than he ever was or would be.
Yagmur returned downstairs with the urgency and passion taken out of his step, each movement almost robotic in its lifelessness. He'd just killed an innocent person, and lost the last ally - no, that was SOTF talk - friend he had. He didn't even care that the shooter was still out there, and Ana's existence was now pretty much irrelevant to him either way.
He looked over at Bella's corpse.
Bella moved.
She was alive.
He ran over to his bag, and pulled out the first aid kit, completely forgetting how in the open he was. "Bella, Bella, it's me. I'm here. Stay with me." He pressed his hand against her cheek, gently turning her face just an inch towards him so they could make eye contact. "We can get you out of this."
"Ana!" he yelled. "Is that your name? Keep an eye out for the shooter. Also, can you get me some bandages and dressings and cleaning stuff from this kit? And yours too, if we need to. Please?" he added, remembering he had no authority and couldn't exactly rely on her good faith. "Just stay awake, Bella, we're here, we'll get you through this." He swiftly pulled off the red jacket the producers had given him, applying it all over Bella's torso, almost wrapping the fabric around her, making sure it was as snug and tight as possible.
It'd keep her warm, and help control the bleeding, and maybe make her a bit more comfortable. All useful stuff for preventing blood loss and shock. "Bella, I'm gonna have to lift you up," he warned, as he gently raised her abdomen by a couple of inches, sliding his impromptu scarf underneath. She didn't say anything coherent in response, but she was making noises - noises of pain, yes, of discomfort, but she was alive.
He pressed his hands against the wound. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry. I fucked up."
She was hearing him, it looked like. She had enough strength to make eye contact, and bar an occasional fleeting glance at her torso to make sure the bleeding was under control and the wound wasn't getting any worse, he made sure he didn't let that eye contact slip away.
"You didn't."
She had clearly struggled to say it, but Yagmur got the meaning just fine.
"Yes. I did. I fired my gun like some crazy nutjob back then, I didn't even get your shooter, I just ran up there and I got someone innocent by mistake. And back at the Ice Palace, I let Vahka in, and got Regina killed. And back at the Cabana, I went off and started that damn fire and fell asleep, and allowed that shit with Paisley attacking us."
He didn't know how eloquent he was being, or how clear his voice was, or how much he was crying or sobbing. He was just focused on making sure Bella knew the truth.
"It's all on me. I'm so damn sorry."
To apologise.
It wouldn't have done much, but he owed Anzu that much.
She hadn't deserved that - it went without saying none of them deserved the experience of the resort, but she hadn't deserved to be killed in a brutal case of mistaken identity, with no chance to defend herself or stand up or even get in a few last moments of peace and introspection.
He wasn't walking away, he had no intention of leaving her for dead, of leaving anyone for dead if he could help it, he wasn't that sort of coward.
But the shock of her revelation, the pain of realising the instincts he'd honed during his time in the resort, instincts that he had convinced himself were necessary to survival and protecting those he cared about, the pain of realising those instincts were counterproductive and useless, the horror of realising he'd just brutally and fatally shot an innocent woman - that hurt.
And he was the sort of coward that couldn't look someone in the eye after that.
So he had turned around, head in his hand, and taken a couple of steps forward, out of habit more than anything else.
And then the shots.
He swung around, with a dexterity the injured and exhausted Yagmur was surprised to find he still had.
And Anzu had done something he'd wanted to do all game, something that he thought was heroic and brilliant and generally awesome. She shot the camera, and had her collar detonated as a result.
Damn it, she was a better person than he ever was or would be.
Yagmur returned downstairs with the urgency and passion taken out of his step, each movement almost robotic in its lifelessness. He'd just killed an innocent person, and lost the last ally - no, that was SOTF talk - friend he had. He didn't even care that the shooter was still out there, and Ana's existence was now pretty much irrelevant to him either way.
He looked over at Bella's corpse.
Bella moved.
She was alive.
He ran over to his bag, and pulled out the first aid kit, completely forgetting how in the open he was. "Bella, Bella, it's me. I'm here. Stay with me." He pressed his hand against her cheek, gently turning her face just an inch towards him so they could make eye contact. "We can get you out of this."
"Ana!" he yelled. "Is that your name? Keep an eye out for the shooter. Also, can you get me some bandages and dressings and cleaning stuff from this kit? And yours too, if we need to. Please?" he added, remembering he had no authority and couldn't exactly rely on her good faith. "Just stay awake, Bella, we're here, we'll get you through this." He swiftly pulled off the red jacket the producers had given him, applying it all over Bella's torso, almost wrapping the fabric around her, making sure it was as snug and tight as possible.
It'd keep her warm, and help control the bleeding, and maybe make her a bit more comfortable. All useful stuff for preventing blood loss and shock. "Bella, I'm gonna have to lift you up," he warned, as he gently raised her abdomen by a couple of inches, sliding his impromptu scarf underneath. She didn't say anything coherent in response, but she was making noises - noises of pain, yes, of discomfort, but she was alive.
He pressed his hands against the wound. "I'm so sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry. I fucked up."
She was hearing him, it looked like. She had enough strength to make eye contact, and bar an occasional fleeting glance at her torso to make sure the bleeding was under control and the wound wasn't getting any worse, he made sure he didn't let that eye contact slip away.
"You didn't."
She had clearly struggled to say it, but Yagmur got the meaning just fine.
"Yes. I did. I fired my gun like some crazy nutjob back then, I didn't even get your shooter, I just ran up there and I got someone innocent by mistake. And back at the Ice Palace, I let Vahka in, and got Regina killed. And back at the Cabana, I went off and started that damn fire and fell asleep, and allowed that shit with Paisley attacking us."
He didn't know how eloquent he was being, or how clear his voice was, or how much he was crying or sobbing. He was just focused on making sure Bella knew the truth.
"It's all on me. I'm so damn sorry."
-
Lord_Shadow
- Posts: 536
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:43 am
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
And more chaos erupted. She grimaced as it all played out. The shouting, the shooting, the blood. She stood there watching it happen. She caught herself licking her lips seeing Bella's warm river of red flow out of her body. No. Bad Stasia. Get a grip. He was still by her side, ans he asked you for help didn't he?
But there was no reason to help.
"I'm sorry. But there's nothing you or I can do. She's dead already, even if it hasn't caught up to her yet. These are her last moments, make them comfortable for her." She brushed past them. Whether or not the boy wanted to admit it, it was over. She knew what death looked like. She'd seen it before her own eyes mutilple times.
She walked over to the source of the detonation sound. Seeing the body, she sighed. "You just went and lost your head didn't you? Your plans just blew up in your face. The shock must've been explosive." She smiled grimly.
Who cares if someone was still out there possibly ready to shoot her? She had an idea of who it could be anyway. For now, she just had to take in this death as well as the other soon-coming one.
"Goddammit." She knelt over the body, stuck her fingers in the wounds. "I really hate doing this. But I have to. At least the cameras here are fucked." She brought the blood to her lips. "Gross. Delicious. Wrong. Wonderful. It looks like candy and tastes like crap."
She was so fucked up. Beyond fucked up.
Maybe he should just shoot her too.
But there was no reason to help.
"I'm sorry. But there's nothing you or I can do. She's dead already, even if it hasn't caught up to her yet. These are her last moments, make them comfortable for her." She brushed past them. Whether or not the boy wanted to admit it, it was over. She knew what death looked like. She'd seen it before her own eyes mutilple times.
She walked over to the source of the detonation sound. Seeing the body, she sighed. "You just went and lost your head didn't you? Your plans just blew up in your face. The shock must've been explosive." She smiled grimly.
Who cares if someone was still out there possibly ready to shoot her? She had an idea of who it could be anyway. For now, she just had to take in this death as well as the other soon-coming one.
"Goddammit." She knelt over the body, stuck her fingers in the wounds. "I really hate doing this. But I have to. At least the cameras here are fucked." She brought the blood to her lips. "Gross. Delicious. Wrong. Wonderful. It looks like candy and tastes like crap."
She was so fucked up. Beyond fucked up.
Maybe he should just shoot her too.
There was once a dumb psuedo-news line here. Now there's this pretentious nonsense. YOU1 DID THIS, YOU1 KNOW WHO YOU1 ARE!
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
1. Yeah you, you nefarious ne'er-do-well you.
As Bella kept her eyes closed, she heard a series of rapid footsteps heading her way. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes.
Maybe it was the blurry vision. Maybe she was delirious. Maybe it was something else. But for a brief second, Bella thought the shape looked a lot like Shadi. She blinked again. It wasn’t. Shadi had died, a long time ago. When, she couldn’t remember. A few days ago? Hours? She’d lost count. It felt longer, longer than it should have been.
It was Yagmur. He pulled her face towards his, and she tried to decipher his expression. Too fuzzy. It was all too fuzzy. Couldn’t focus, couldn’t hang on.
She heard him call out to Ana, but it sounded distant, like someone yelling from miles away or a dream. But she realized what he was trying to do.
He was trying to save her.
Bella felt Yagmur’s jacket be pulled on top of her, making her feel a bit warmer. Just a bit. He warned her that he had to lift her up a bit, before pulling her body up and placing his makeshift scarf underneath. As he lowered her down, Bella felt another jolt of pain, even as he was gently as possible. A series of soft grumbles came from her.
His hands were against her wounds now. He was pleading for her, telling her it was his fault.
It wasn't.
"You didn't", she said. It came out faint.
It was hers. She didn't find a good place to hide. It was like everything else that had happened. She never looked behind her to see if Eden was there. She let Gene injure Will. She left Aidan to die. She let Regina get blown up. She didn't even try to find Shadi. In a way, it was fitting that a mistake would eventually kill her.
But, she didn't know about what started the fire, or how he was the reason Vahka came inside the Ice Palace. He even shot someone innocent by mistake.
Funny how that works, isn't it? The two of them had made huge mistakes. Just a pair of children, making gigantic errors.
Bella, deep down, agreed with Ana. She was probably going to slip away soon. None of them, to her knowledge, were trained medics. Something like her injury would kill her eventually, even if she didn't die right here.
But she felt Yagmur wasn't making a mistake right now.
There was another mistake she made, she just realized. She never fully appreciated Yagmur until now. Ever since the aquarium, he'd been there. He could have easily murdered her, or left her after they killed Gene. But he didn't. Even after he got angry at her for what happened to Paisley, he was still there. They weren't on the same team, but that didn't stop him. He could have just left her to die here, but he didn't. He wanted to keep her safe.
It was funny how you just realize these things at the last minute.
She didn't appreciate anyone enough, come to think of it. Shadi had always been there for her before the game. Bella never thought that she could lose her the way she did. The drama club, too, and how she loved working on projects with them. Regina, her team mate, who was smart, much smarter than her. People like Eden, Will, and Aiden. Even Mother, who she sometimes both hated and feared.
Bella was a lot of things. A performer, a student, a daughter, a murderer, a coward. But she was never a hero, or a protagonist in an action movie, or a star. She just wasn't cut out for SOTF.
Yagmur was doing the right thing right now. He was, like Ana suggested, keeping her comfortable to the end. And she was alright with that.
She wanted to tell him. But she couldn't. It hurt to try to talk. But instead, she tried something else. She put on her well-rehearsed smile. Bella couldn't tell if he could even realize it, with the sobs and the snot. But she hoped he did.
Her focus was fading away. Her vision grew dark around the corners, and only got more fuzzier. She tried to stay awake, but it kept grabbing her, pulling her down. Bella felt her eyelids grow heavy, and as hard as she tried to keep them open, eventually they lowered.
She didn't feel calm or peaceful. Just resigned.
The last shot of her alive ended with a faint smile. Many fans noticed, but none of them knew why. They debated, of course, but it was all speculation in the end.
Cobalt Jellyfish #1 Bella Bianchi- ELIMINATED
Maybe it was the blurry vision. Maybe she was delirious. Maybe it was something else. But for a brief second, Bella thought the shape looked a lot like Shadi. She blinked again. It wasn’t. Shadi had died, a long time ago. When, she couldn’t remember. A few days ago? Hours? She’d lost count. It felt longer, longer than it should have been.
It was Yagmur. He pulled her face towards his, and she tried to decipher his expression. Too fuzzy. It was all too fuzzy. Couldn’t focus, couldn’t hang on.
She heard him call out to Ana, but it sounded distant, like someone yelling from miles away or a dream. But she realized what he was trying to do.
He was trying to save her.
Bella felt Yagmur’s jacket be pulled on top of her, making her feel a bit warmer. Just a bit. He warned her that he had to lift her up a bit, before pulling her body up and placing his makeshift scarf underneath. As he lowered her down, Bella felt another jolt of pain, even as he was gently as possible. A series of soft grumbles came from her.
His hands were against her wounds now. He was pleading for her, telling her it was his fault.
It wasn't.
"You didn't", she said. It came out faint.
It was hers. She didn't find a good place to hide. It was like everything else that had happened. She never looked behind her to see if Eden was there. She let Gene injure Will. She left Aidan to die. She let Regina get blown up. She didn't even try to find Shadi. In a way, it was fitting that a mistake would eventually kill her.
But, she didn't know about what started the fire, or how he was the reason Vahka came inside the Ice Palace. He even shot someone innocent by mistake.
Funny how that works, isn't it? The two of them had made huge mistakes. Just a pair of children, making gigantic errors.
Bella, deep down, agreed with Ana. She was probably going to slip away soon. None of them, to her knowledge, were trained medics. Something like her injury would kill her eventually, even if she didn't die right here.
But she felt Yagmur wasn't making a mistake right now.
There was another mistake she made, she just realized. She never fully appreciated Yagmur until now. Ever since the aquarium, he'd been there. He could have easily murdered her, or left her after they killed Gene. But he didn't. Even after he got angry at her for what happened to Paisley, he was still there. They weren't on the same team, but that didn't stop him. He could have just left her to die here, but he didn't. He wanted to keep her safe.
It was funny how you just realize these things at the last minute.
She didn't appreciate anyone enough, come to think of it. Shadi had always been there for her before the game. Bella never thought that she could lose her the way she did. The drama club, too, and how she loved working on projects with them. Regina, her team mate, who was smart, much smarter than her. People like Eden, Will, and Aiden. Even Mother, who she sometimes both hated and feared.
Bella was a lot of things. A performer, a student, a daughter, a murderer, a coward. But she was never a hero, or a protagonist in an action movie, or a star. She just wasn't cut out for SOTF.
Yagmur was doing the right thing right now. He was, like Ana suggested, keeping her comfortable to the end. And she was alright with that.
She wanted to tell him. But she couldn't. It hurt to try to talk. But instead, she tried something else. She put on her well-rehearsed smile. Bella couldn't tell if he could even realize it, with the sobs and the snot. But she hoped he did.
Her focus was fading away. Her vision grew dark around the corners, and only got more fuzzier. She tried to stay awake, but it kept grabbing her, pulling her down. Bella felt her eyelids grow heavy, and as hard as she tried to keep them open, eventually they lowered.
She didn't feel calm or peaceful. Just resigned.
The last shot of her alive ended with a faint smile. Many fans noticed, but none of them knew why. They debated, of course, but it was all speculation in the end.
Cobalt Jellyfish #1 Bella Bianchi- ELIMINATED
He finally moved from his shelter behind the machines, moving when the sound of way too many guns had died down. He had been close enough to hear Anzu’s last words, but not in time to stop the events that he’d set off, but close enough that the detonation shook him a bit. Yagmur was descending down, unaware that the person he’d originally come up for was just within reach, or that he was in the reach of the same person.
A small window of time passed before Corin collected himself and returned to the railing, his hands shook as he lifted his rifle and looked through the scope again. He caught Yagmur as he returned to his dying companion, quietly watching the scene from his position. His rage didn’t subside, not even as feelings of pity ran through his veins, he didn’t even think twice about sliding the bolt and ejecting the brass case from the bullet that had killed Bella. But as angry as Corin was, his fingers didn’t curl around the trigger, not when he watched Yagmur’s helpless attempts at saving Bella’s life. His hands were shaking too much to guarantee this kill either way, he let the opportunity pass.
Though every fibre knew that he hated Yagmur and wanted him dead, the more sinister part of him decided that watching Yagmur helplessly stain his hands with Bella’s blood was enough for now, so he flicked the safety of the rifle on. Anzu was dead, he couldn’t think past deriving what pain he could, or realise how disgusted he’d become with himself in the near future. In a way, he had the audacity to draw a parallel between them, the idea that someone was suffering just as he was somehow brought a sick sense of relief to him. Then Anarchy moved, interrupting his horrible thought trail, he noticed that she was moving closer to where he was. His thoughts were clouded as he stood up, forgetting his own personal safety for the moment, knowing in the back of his mind that he would have to return to Yagmur sooner or later.
Though he had not known what crazy Anarchy’s intentions were when he’d first seen her move, he quickly figured it out when he turned around a machine and saw her. He had once pitied Anarchy and her broken act, but could not ignore such an affront against Anzu, an affront against what little calm she had represented for him. His expression shifted from tired anger to the darkest expression that had ever graced his features in his life. It was likely the anger pent up from Yagmur fuelling his actions still, but he had never moved forward with such violent speed in his young life.
His hands gripped the barrel of his rifle, using it for a purpose other than for what it was intended. He was too angry to think of the practical use anymore, at least he had some semblance of thought when he was near the hand rails, but not right now. He started tearing up from the rage up as his dash came to a skidding stop and he swung with the momentum. Corin had spent a ridiculous amount of time playing baseball, more than anyone else he had known, and now Anarchy was the ball.
“GET AWAY FROM HER.” His voice boomed with an intensity he had never demonstrated before, he didn’t care if Yagmur could hear him, any clever plans Corin had were now forfeit thanks to one moment of anger.
He was going to knock her off Anzu, he didn’t care what he broke or how winded she was going to get. He wasn’t going to give her a peaceful resolution either; she didn’t deserve any more of his pity at this point, she had gleefully passed that little line when she had started to joke at her expense. Any regrets he held could be reserved for after he sorted her out.
A small window of time passed before Corin collected himself and returned to the railing, his hands shook as he lifted his rifle and looked through the scope again. He caught Yagmur as he returned to his dying companion, quietly watching the scene from his position. His rage didn’t subside, not even as feelings of pity ran through his veins, he didn’t even think twice about sliding the bolt and ejecting the brass case from the bullet that had killed Bella. But as angry as Corin was, his fingers didn’t curl around the trigger, not when he watched Yagmur’s helpless attempts at saving Bella’s life. His hands were shaking too much to guarantee this kill either way, he let the opportunity pass.
Though every fibre knew that he hated Yagmur and wanted him dead, the more sinister part of him decided that watching Yagmur helplessly stain his hands with Bella’s blood was enough for now, so he flicked the safety of the rifle on. Anzu was dead, he couldn’t think past deriving what pain he could, or realise how disgusted he’d become with himself in the near future. In a way, he had the audacity to draw a parallel between them, the idea that someone was suffering just as he was somehow brought a sick sense of relief to him. Then Anarchy moved, interrupting his horrible thought trail, he noticed that she was moving closer to where he was. His thoughts were clouded as he stood up, forgetting his own personal safety for the moment, knowing in the back of his mind that he would have to return to Yagmur sooner or later.
Though he had not known what crazy Anarchy’s intentions were when he’d first seen her move, he quickly figured it out when he turned around a machine and saw her. He had once pitied Anarchy and her broken act, but could not ignore such an affront against Anzu, an affront against what little calm she had represented for him. His expression shifted from tired anger to the darkest expression that had ever graced his features in his life. It was likely the anger pent up from Yagmur fuelling his actions still, but he had never moved forward with such violent speed in his young life.
His hands gripped the barrel of his rifle, using it for a purpose other than for what it was intended. He was too angry to think of the practical use anymore, at least he had some semblance of thought when he was near the hand rails, but not right now. He started tearing up from the rage up as his dash came to a skidding stop and he swung with the momentum. Corin had spent a ridiculous amount of time playing baseball, more than anyone else he had known, and now Anarchy was the ball.
“GET AWAY FROM HER.” His voice boomed with an intensity he had never demonstrated before, he didn’t care if Yagmur could hear him, any clever plans Corin had were now forfeit thanks to one moment of anger.
He was going to knock her off Anzu, he didn’t care what he broke or how winded she was going to get. He wasn’t going to give her a peaceful resolution either; she didn’t deserve any more of his pity at this point, she had gleefully passed that little line when she had started to joke at her expense. Any regrets he held could be reserved for after he sorted her out.
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Yagmur was trying in vain to ignore Ana's cruel response - she didn't even have the common decency to go out of her way for five seconds, to give her the comfort of a little bit of hope and a tiny chance of survival, to even help with her stated suggestion of providing a bit of comfort. She went upstairs, his peripheral vision told him.
Fuck her.
He was doing busy work, he knew that much. The flow of blood was hardly letting up, and he wasn't even cleaning the wounds, let alone providing any actual first aid or useful medical assistance. He wasn't thinking about that, but he knew it all the same, a constant piece of undeniable knowledge in the back of his brain that he neither embraced nor denied.
And he didn't know when, but eventually Bella's breathing had completely stopped - it wasn't just pausing or uneven or unsteady. She'd died. Everything was still, and quiet, and senseless, and meaningless. It was over.
He'd failed everyone he'd tried to protect. Everyone.
He looked into the distance. His gaze was blank, his body almost limp, his senses on a sabbatical. Hell, he might have been talking out loud and getting up and pacing or crying hysterically for all he knew, but he might as easily have been completely idle.
Lisa, his first ally, that friendly girl who accepted his fondness for bacon back in the first few hours of the game, when the awfulness of the situation still hadn't sunk in, when humour and eccentricity was still viable, when most of his negative emotions were anger or political disdain or frustration or confusion - not fear and sadness. He'd left her alone for a few minutes, and she'd died.
Gabriel, that Hawaiian shirt-donning arsehole that had embraced his worst impulses and gone all temperamental, he'd run off and gotten himself mortally wounded and, if Yagmur's memory served him correctly and that was a big 'if', opened up a way for Jewel to sneak in and kill. And he'd died later on, and Yagmur couldn't help but think that, hell, maybe he wasn't an arsehole. He didn't know Gabriel. He couldn't even remember if he'd killed anyone after their encounter. But he'd let him get into that fight and die anyway.
And Jewel. If he'd shot that bitch dead there and then, more people would still be alive. She wouldn't have been able to waltz out of the resort to freedom, and escape justice. And they probably would have gotten fewer viewers and lower audience ratings, which would have been a win-win.
Colin, that guy he'd saved from Jewel, he'd left him. He went away from him and left him to die on his own - probably frightened and afraid and alone and in pain - and he didn't deserve any of it.
And why? To go with Gene. Some arsehole - and he knew he was an arsehole from first impressions and unlike Gabriel there was never enough ambiguity or whatever to throw doubt on that perception - that he'd went with solely because the producers of this sordid bloodsport had done some random number generation or used some complicated algorithms or whatever and threw them together. He'd basically played the game when he made that choice. And a Davison kid called Will and a more familiar classmate Bunny had paid the price.
And from Gene, he let down everyone else. He'd gotten tired and emotional, gone on a glorified mini-bender, and made everyone think he was in danger. And he'd gotten his allies's guards down, and Paisley died, and Tucker was broken.
And he...let Vahka in. He still didn't know why. Regina and Michael paid the price for his mistake.
And he'd just let Bella, the last person he could rely on, the last person that gave him cause to keep on trudging through this shit, be killed. And killed an innocent Anzu in the process.
Most of these people were stronger than him, kinder than him, smarter than him, better positioned to win than him. And yet he survived the longest. Survival of the luckiest.
His senses returned. He'd stood up at some point, still looking mournfully at Bella's corpse.
He pulled out his gun. He couldn't remember when, but after the...mistake with Anzu, he'd stuffed it through his belt, wedged between the leather and the side of his pants. He hadn't even turned the safety off. That was stupid. The gun could easily have misfired and taken half his ass with it, or fallen to the ground with unpredictable consequences, or whatever. And it would have been his fault, a comically absurd act of stupidity and irresponsibility, its fatal and well-deserved consequences being an embarrassing end to his life, one that could well have been a meme.
He turned it over in his hands. It wasn't too heavy, quite a utilitarian and practical design. A CZ 75, he'd remembered reading in the instruction manual. He knew very little about guns. Well, he knew hunting rifles and shotguns quite well, and had admired and read about some of the more famous assault rifles with a rather compatible mixture of awe and admiration and veneration. Hell, they were basically synonyms.
But firing those four shots, even with a rather lightweight and compact pistol, had left both his hands - already injured, already vulnerable - aching, from the recoil, from the pushback, from whatever the term was. The wound on his good hand - as he still instinctively called, out of habit and ease of understanding more than anything - had been opened up a bit, blood seeping through the dressings.
And his hands were covered in blood. Bella's blood, mostly. It had to be. He hadn't noticed it when he was trying to administer the first aid, hadn't given his own cleanliness even fleeting consideration or recognition. Some of it had already covered his clothes.
He was quite cold too. Normally he was quite good with the cold, but this was worse than Oklahoma weather, his health and stamina wasn't at its best, and he'd just torn off his impromptu, improvised scarf and jacket, fashioned from the mocking ill-researched costume they'd provided him, to try and give Bella a bit more comfort, a bit more dignity, a bit more time before she'd gone.
He turned to the camera. He had to do this. He didn't have the guts to try going out swinging, or try and get through this. He had to accept that he wasn't cut out for this. But he remembered the medium, and decided to accommodate it just once.
"These are my final words. Wasn't expecting them to be as deliberate or staged as these, but whatever. I'm sorry to everyone I let down. Sorry if I tried protecting your kid or brother or sister or friend or whatever, and I'm failed. Sorry my original ambitions - of trying to undermine this stupid show by reminding people of better entertainment and basic morality - didn't materialise."
He took the gun. Safety was off.
"I'm sorry if...listen, Vahka was a good guy. But that friend, that brother, he'd died long ago. And Anzu...I guess that's the worst thing I've ever done, and there's no way of showing just how awful I feel about that." Yagmur paused. Doubts and regrets and alternative ideas were welling up, trying to escape from his throat, but he swallowed, and repressed them. "Mom, dad, you know what I'd want to say. You know I love you both, you know how I'd want to be remembered, and all that. And Cetin, despite any alternative wills they may find, I want you to have my stuff."
He knelt down, next to Bella's corpse, and gave his brother a smile through the camera. He'd get the little in-joke. He looked Bella in the eyes, and sadness returned to his features. But it was a somber, quiet, accepting sadness.
Not calm or peaceful sadness. But resigned.
He placed the gun in his mouth.
====
Isabella had always been ever-so-slightly closer to her son's worldview than her husband had been. Yes, Mustafa and Yagmur both shared a civil and social libertarianism, a distrust of organised religion, and a surprisingly optimistic and cheery sense of humour, traits she did not share in the slightest. But Yagmur was his father's son in appearance and his mother's son in spirit.
So she'd known he'd want his privacy to be respected, even if what were his probable final hours were splashed across TV screens. Her father, a stereotypical Oklahoman and proud of it, had spent the time sitting on the family home's front porch, shotgun in hand, scaring off any noisy journalists and obsessive fans. He'd even discovered a fondness for Yagmur's stronger clear alcohols.
But that was just addressing the symptom, not the cause. Knowing she would have had Yagmur's blessings, she went into overdrive trying to limit any personal information. She temporarily deactivated his Facebook account, his YouTube account, made sure all his electronics were turned off, and twisted arms of everyone from school principals to local Whittree journalists. She even went to the local bars and restaurants, and took down the photos of him breaking local eating and drinking records. She knew the show producers already had more than enough information in the public domain to get the basic facts about him well-circulated and well-known, but she knew her son well enough to know he'd want that limited as much as possible.
But as much as she was willing to respect Yagmur's wishes for privacy from the wider world, she couldn't resist trying to get to know her son a little bit better. Every little new glimpse into his character she gained, that might mean putting off the inevitability of his death sinking in a little bit longer. She'd mostly found bottles of alcohol - whiskey, absinthe, and very strong clear alcohols - or books of political philosophy that she did not know her son had the will to read (seeing as most had bookmarks by way of folded page corners about twenty pages in, it looked like he had indeed not had the will to read them).
She'd found a couple of books on theology, or drawings of tattoo designs. She threw those away without a second thought, making sure to shred them first with her father's wood-chipper.
She'd found a will - "Upon my death, all of my belongings shall transfer to the man or animal that has killed me", followed by some weird symbols. It was probably a joke or a reference, but she intended to keep it away from any lawyers, so some crazy SOTF psycho wouldn't get his stuff.
But she'd only gone through one shelf - not even touching his desk - when her husband called her.
"Isabella!" he called, from the front room. His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been yelling for hours. She ran down, almost tripping in the process. Yagmur was on the screen, in a state of post-traumatic shock. She sat next to her husband, and they held hands, leaning on each others' shoulders for support. Bella - SOTF Bella - was lying dead, on the ground. They sat together, watching in silence.
And when Yagmur had finished his monologue - his intentions already long clear, stated pretty damn explicitly - they were both crying, silently. Cetin was out, but he'd hear soon enough. "Pause it, please", she said, and as if her husband had been waiting for her to give the command, he instantly grabbed the remote and pressed pause.
"We'll take a minute. And we can press play whenever you're ready."
And, a minute after everyone else, they saw Yagmur glance at Bella's face, and pull his gun out, and break down sobbing.
Fuck her.
He was doing busy work, he knew that much. The flow of blood was hardly letting up, and he wasn't even cleaning the wounds, let alone providing any actual first aid or useful medical assistance. He wasn't thinking about that, but he knew it all the same, a constant piece of undeniable knowledge in the back of his brain that he neither embraced nor denied.
And he didn't know when, but eventually Bella's breathing had completely stopped - it wasn't just pausing or uneven or unsteady. She'd died. Everything was still, and quiet, and senseless, and meaningless. It was over.
He'd failed everyone he'd tried to protect. Everyone.
He looked into the distance. His gaze was blank, his body almost limp, his senses on a sabbatical. Hell, he might have been talking out loud and getting up and pacing or crying hysterically for all he knew, but he might as easily have been completely idle.
Lisa, his first ally, that friendly girl who accepted his fondness for bacon back in the first few hours of the game, when the awfulness of the situation still hadn't sunk in, when humour and eccentricity was still viable, when most of his negative emotions were anger or political disdain or frustration or confusion - not fear and sadness. He'd left her alone for a few minutes, and she'd died.
Gabriel, that Hawaiian shirt-donning arsehole that had embraced his worst impulses and gone all temperamental, he'd run off and gotten himself mortally wounded and, if Yagmur's memory served him correctly and that was a big 'if', opened up a way for Jewel to sneak in and kill. And he'd died later on, and Yagmur couldn't help but think that, hell, maybe he wasn't an arsehole. He didn't know Gabriel. He couldn't even remember if he'd killed anyone after their encounter. But he'd let him get into that fight and die anyway.
And Jewel. If he'd shot that bitch dead there and then, more people would still be alive. She wouldn't have been able to waltz out of the resort to freedom, and escape justice. And they probably would have gotten fewer viewers and lower audience ratings, which would have been a win-win.
Colin, that guy he'd saved from Jewel, he'd left him. He went away from him and left him to die on his own - probably frightened and afraid and alone and in pain - and he didn't deserve any of it.
And why? To go with Gene. Some arsehole - and he knew he was an arsehole from first impressions and unlike Gabriel there was never enough ambiguity or whatever to throw doubt on that perception - that he'd went with solely because the producers of this sordid bloodsport had done some random number generation or used some complicated algorithms or whatever and threw them together. He'd basically played the game when he made that choice. And a Davison kid called Will and a more familiar classmate Bunny had paid the price.
And from Gene, he let down everyone else. He'd gotten tired and emotional, gone on a glorified mini-bender, and made everyone think he was in danger. And he'd gotten his allies's guards down, and Paisley died, and Tucker was broken.
And he...let Vahka in. He still didn't know why. Regina and Michael paid the price for his mistake.
And he'd just let Bella, the last person he could rely on, the last person that gave him cause to keep on trudging through this shit, be killed. And killed an innocent Anzu in the process.
Most of these people were stronger than him, kinder than him, smarter than him, better positioned to win than him. And yet he survived the longest. Survival of the luckiest.
His senses returned. He'd stood up at some point, still looking mournfully at Bella's corpse.
He pulled out his gun. He couldn't remember when, but after the...mistake with Anzu, he'd stuffed it through his belt, wedged between the leather and the side of his pants. He hadn't even turned the safety off. That was stupid. The gun could easily have misfired and taken half his ass with it, or fallen to the ground with unpredictable consequences, or whatever. And it would have been his fault, a comically absurd act of stupidity and irresponsibility, its fatal and well-deserved consequences being an embarrassing end to his life, one that could well have been a meme.
He turned it over in his hands. It wasn't too heavy, quite a utilitarian and practical design. A CZ 75, he'd remembered reading in the instruction manual. He knew very little about guns. Well, he knew hunting rifles and shotguns quite well, and had admired and read about some of the more famous assault rifles with a rather compatible mixture of awe and admiration and veneration. Hell, they were basically synonyms.
But firing those four shots, even with a rather lightweight and compact pistol, had left both his hands - already injured, already vulnerable - aching, from the recoil, from the pushback, from whatever the term was. The wound on his good hand - as he still instinctively called, out of habit and ease of understanding more than anything - had been opened up a bit, blood seeping through the dressings.
And his hands were covered in blood. Bella's blood, mostly. It had to be. He hadn't noticed it when he was trying to administer the first aid, hadn't given his own cleanliness even fleeting consideration or recognition. Some of it had already covered his clothes.
He was quite cold too. Normally he was quite good with the cold, but this was worse than Oklahoma weather, his health and stamina wasn't at its best, and he'd just torn off his impromptu, improvised scarf and jacket, fashioned from the mocking ill-researched costume they'd provided him, to try and give Bella a bit more comfort, a bit more dignity, a bit more time before she'd gone.
He turned to the camera. He had to do this. He didn't have the guts to try going out swinging, or try and get through this. He had to accept that he wasn't cut out for this. But he remembered the medium, and decided to accommodate it just once.
"These are my final words. Wasn't expecting them to be as deliberate or staged as these, but whatever. I'm sorry to everyone I let down. Sorry if I tried protecting your kid or brother or sister or friend or whatever, and I'm failed. Sorry my original ambitions - of trying to undermine this stupid show by reminding people of better entertainment and basic morality - didn't materialise."
He took the gun. Safety was off.
"I'm sorry if...listen, Vahka was a good guy. But that friend, that brother, he'd died long ago. And Anzu...I guess that's the worst thing I've ever done, and there's no way of showing just how awful I feel about that." Yagmur paused. Doubts and regrets and alternative ideas were welling up, trying to escape from his throat, but he swallowed, and repressed them. "Mom, dad, you know what I'd want to say. You know I love you both, you know how I'd want to be remembered, and all that. And Cetin, despite any alternative wills they may find, I want you to have my stuff."
He knelt down, next to Bella's corpse, and gave his brother a smile through the camera. He'd get the little in-joke. He looked Bella in the eyes, and sadness returned to his features. But it was a somber, quiet, accepting sadness.
Not calm or peaceful sadness. But resigned.
He placed the gun in his mouth.
====
Isabella had always been ever-so-slightly closer to her son's worldview than her husband had been. Yes, Mustafa and Yagmur both shared a civil and social libertarianism, a distrust of organised religion, and a surprisingly optimistic and cheery sense of humour, traits she did not share in the slightest. But Yagmur was his father's son in appearance and his mother's son in spirit.
So she'd known he'd want his privacy to be respected, even if what were his probable final hours were splashed across TV screens. Her father, a stereotypical Oklahoman and proud of it, had spent the time sitting on the family home's front porch, shotgun in hand, scaring off any noisy journalists and obsessive fans. He'd even discovered a fondness for Yagmur's stronger clear alcohols.
But that was just addressing the symptom, not the cause. Knowing she would have had Yagmur's blessings, she went into overdrive trying to limit any personal information. She temporarily deactivated his Facebook account, his YouTube account, made sure all his electronics were turned off, and twisted arms of everyone from school principals to local Whittree journalists. She even went to the local bars and restaurants, and took down the photos of him breaking local eating and drinking records. She knew the show producers already had more than enough information in the public domain to get the basic facts about him well-circulated and well-known, but she knew her son well enough to know he'd want that limited as much as possible.
But as much as she was willing to respect Yagmur's wishes for privacy from the wider world, she couldn't resist trying to get to know her son a little bit better. Every little new glimpse into his character she gained, that might mean putting off the inevitability of his death sinking in a little bit longer. She'd mostly found bottles of alcohol - whiskey, absinthe, and very strong clear alcohols - or books of political philosophy that she did not know her son had the will to read (seeing as most had bookmarks by way of folded page corners about twenty pages in, it looked like he had indeed not had the will to read them).
She'd found a couple of books on theology, or drawings of tattoo designs. She threw those away without a second thought, making sure to shred them first with her father's wood-chipper.
She'd found a will - "Upon my death, all of my belongings shall transfer to the man or animal that has killed me", followed by some weird symbols. It was probably a joke or a reference, but she intended to keep it away from any lawyers, so some crazy SOTF psycho wouldn't get his stuff.
But she'd only gone through one shelf - not even touching his desk - when her husband called her.
"Isabella!" he called, from the front room. His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been yelling for hours. She ran down, almost tripping in the process. Yagmur was on the screen, in a state of post-traumatic shock. She sat next to her husband, and they held hands, leaning on each others' shoulders for support. Bella - SOTF Bella - was lying dead, on the ground. They sat together, watching in silence.
And when Yagmur had finished his monologue - his intentions already long clear, stated pretty damn explicitly - they were both crying, silently. Cetin was out, but he'd hear soon enough. "Pause it, please", she said, and as if her husband had been waiting for her to give the command, he instantly grabbed the remote and pressed pause.
"We'll take a minute. And we can press play whenever you're ready."
And, a minute after everyone else, they saw Yagmur glance at Bella's face, and pull his gun out, and break down sobbing.