Chuck continued walking forward. This was it. The climax. The dramatic confrontation. Between those who had stood steadfast against Danya, who had denied him the victory of their collusion and collaboration, and those who had been his enablers - or, perhaps, his most aggrieved victims.
Chuck hated Saachi, but couldn't shake that pity for her. That sympathy for her. That, desire, as it were, to help her. Maybe it was a residual memory for their days at the school - the discussions in classrooms as teachers insisted they overanalyse a text, the times they passed each other in the hallway as if it was a mundane event to be repeated forever, the fact that, had they met several years after graduation, they would have been able to bond over the idiosyncrasies of their most eccentric classmates and the more notorious examples of shoddy school maintenance.
Most vividly, their time in the debate club. Chuck knew her. He knew she was smarter, more ethical, than this. But Chuck didn't think it was that.
He had the same thing with Maxwell, after all - another classmate he would have been fine not seeing again, but equally fine bumping into years later.
He felt a special class of pity for Saachi. By giving in, she had lost everything. She had been his victim just as much as his tool, as the emissary for his murderous intents.
Chuck kept that to himself. She would not like being pitied, Chuck imagined. He didn't want to torture her.
He kept the gun aimed at her. And then she struck. And Maxwell fell.
Chuck should have fired. Again. Dammit.
Shaking, he aimed the barrel squarely at her head. For dramatic effect. To make it clear he was intent on killing her. He'd fire at the torso, most likely. Least chance of missing. But keeping the gun aimed at the head, so as she looked up, she would be confronted with that. He was at a very short distance, anyway - he'd walked forward more than he'd anticipated. Could probably get a headshot.
"It's not all about you," was all Chuck could muster, the only ethical rejoinder he could bring forth. "It's never been all about you." Chuck could think of so many added retorts he could add. About how her life was already over. How everyone would find her actions unforgivable. But he had faith in Saachi that she saw that for herself.
"Now if you hit Maxwell one more time, I..." He was going to say 'kill you'. But that was already the plan. Couldn't give her a false impression. Couldn't give her an out.
"I make this painful."
There And Back Again
Day 7, before the announcements
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
-
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:
And of course, the moment he decided to actually do something, the moment he decided to actually have power over the situation for once, the island brought him back down to the ground.
The cleaver sunk into his leg. It didn't go deep — he'd at least tried to move once he saw what she was doing — but he imagined the pain would have felt the same regardless. He fell. Hit the ground. His body, his leg screamed in pain as it did, screamed in pain as he realized he'd been careless. The feeling — that feeling; the one he'd felt when he was beating Jasmine down on the cliffs, when he had blustered to Saachi the first time they had met — stayed, though. He could still feel the heat on his skin, he could still feel the tingling on his arms, he could still feel that tinge of satisfaction because he'd actually done something. He had finally at least tried to avenge Lyndi, Jason, Ramona. He had at least tried to be the hero Paris wanted him to be.
And that was what put him on the ground, his leg now joining his arm in the shared harmony of pain. That was what put him close to death, put him close to what was probably the determined respite of his wrongs.
That was what he got for trying, he supposed.
Because that was why he'd lived for so long, wasn't it? Because he hadn't tried. Because he'd heard Paris' words, he heard the calls for help by everyone around him and he hadn't followed, hadn't answered them at all. The people he'd outlasted — Paris, Ramona, Michael, Baxter? They had tried. They had attempted to be heroes. They had fallen, yes, but whether you lived or you died wasn't what mattered, here. They'd tried, they'd done something, and at the very least they went out as actual heroes.
He'd tried, he'd done something, and all that happened was him getting knocked to the ground, the value of his life now just being motivation for Chuck to finish the job.
Was he happy with that?
Was that a good way to die?
No.
It wasn't.
Because that meant he'd lost his power. That meant he'd lost his ability to control his fate. That meant that he'd just die like Mr. Dolph, snivelling and scared, not even having a choice as to how he lived or died.
Had Maxwell ever wished for his death to happen so simply?
No.
Not like that.
Never like that.
He breathed. Seethed. Felt the pain in his shoulder, in his leg. Felt the air around him become searing hot. Felt nails claw at the skin of his arms. Felt his body beg to do something, make her pay for what she'd done.
"I'm not your bargaining chip."
Felt that feeling of satisfaction, pride, once again, as his body lurched forward, his jaw sinking its teeth into Saachi's ankle.
The cleaver sunk into his leg. It didn't go deep — he'd at least tried to move once he saw what she was doing — but he imagined the pain would have felt the same regardless. He fell. Hit the ground. His body, his leg screamed in pain as it did, screamed in pain as he realized he'd been careless. The feeling — that feeling; the one he'd felt when he was beating Jasmine down on the cliffs, when he had blustered to Saachi the first time they had met — stayed, though. He could still feel the heat on his skin, he could still feel the tingling on his arms, he could still feel that tinge of satisfaction because he'd actually done something. He had finally at least tried to avenge Lyndi, Jason, Ramona. He had at least tried to be the hero Paris wanted him to be.
And that was what put him on the ground, his leg now joining his arm in the shared harmony of pain. That was what put him close to death, put him close to what was probably the determined respite of his wrongs.
That was what he got for trying, he supposed.
Because that was why he'd lived for so long, wasn't it? Because he hadn't tried. Because he'd heard Paris' words, he heard the calls for help by everyone around him and he hadn't followed, hadn't answered them at all. The people he'd outlasted — Paris, Ramona, Michael, Baxter? They had tried. They had attempted to be heroes. They had fallen, yes, but whether you lived or you died wasn't what mattered, here. They'd tried, they'd done something, and at the very least they went out as actual heroes.
He'd tried, he'd done something, and all that happened was him getting knocked to the ground, the value of his life now just being motivation for Chuck to finish the job.
Was he happy with that?
Was that a good way to die?
No.
It wasn't.
Because that meant he'd lost his power. That meant he'd lost his ability to control his fate. That meant that he'd just die like Mr. Dolph, snivelling and scared, not even having a choice as to how he lived or died.
Had Maxwell ever wished for his death to happen so simply?
No.
Not like that.
Never like that.
He breathed. Seethed. Felt the pain in his shoulder, in his leg. Felt the air around him become searing hot. Felt nails claw at the skin of his arms. Felt his body beg to do something, make her pay for what she'd done.
"I'm not your bargaining chip."
Felt that feeling of satisfaction, pride, once again, as his body lurched forward, his jaw sinking its teeth into Saachi's ankle.
-
jimmydalad
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:38 pm
Chuck's words hit back like a hammer, forcing down truths that she didn't want to hear. How dare he talk to her like that? Just because he got the jump on her? Then again, she'd be in that exact same position, getting the jump on others before they had a chance to retaliate. At least she didn't regale them on the way to the afterlife. Her kills were quick and efficient. At this point, Chuck could've easily killed her in a multitude of ways with a variety of weapons. The fact that he was hesitating, that he was holding back, was more than enough of an opportunity for her to take advantage of.
She glowered back at him, readying herself for a snappy retort when she heard Maxwell pipe up again. As she quickly turned towards him, she felt a sudden pain pierce her ankle. She felt his teeth dig into her skin as she let out a loud yelp of pain. The pain caused tears to form in her eyes and fueled the emotional turmoil she was already going through. Instantly, Saachi started to shake her leg vigorously.
"Get the fuck off me, you bastard!" Saachi screeched, her voice loud and high-pitched as she desperately tried to get the pain to stop. No matter how much shaking she did, Maxwell wouldn't move. Frustration started to take over as she just wanted him to get off her. Stop the pain.
Using her free leg, she put all her force into smashing her foot straight into Maxwell's jaw. She held nothing back. While the initial impact originally made the pain worse as she felt the teeth dig deeper still, she eventually felt Maxwell's jaw dislodge from her leg. She didn't have time to take enjoyment from being free from the pain, not when Chuck was ready to attack. She needed to make the most of the opportunity that presented itself.
She quickly crawled towards the cleaver still lodged in Maxwell's leg and ripped it out. Immediately following that, she pushed herself up and lunged herself at Chuck. She knew she couldn't rest on her laurels. This was the moment. All she had to do was get the cleaver into his skull. Maxwell would be easy to deal with once she dealt with Chuck. She could see the resolution in sight. All she needed to do was hit Chuck.
Unfortunately, Maxwell had done a number on her ankle. In her rush to attack Chuck, she put too much weight on the ankle that he had gnawed upon. Saachi yelled and tried to grit through the pain, however, the pain caused her to trip towards Chuck. Trying to make the most of the situation, Saachi used the momentum to attempt to swing the cleaver into his skull.
"I refuse to just roll over and die!"
She glowered back at him, readying herself for a snappy retort when she heard Maxwell pipe up again. As she quickly turned towards him, she felt a sudden pain pierce her ankle. She felt his teeth dig into her skin as she let out a loud yelp of pain. The pain caused tears to form in her eyes and fueled the emotional turmoil she was already going through. Instantly, Saachi started to shake her leg vigorously.
"Get the fuck off me, you bastard!" Saachi screeched, her voice loud and high-pitched as she desperately tried to get the pain to stop. No matter how much shaking she did, Maxwell wouldn't move. Frustration started to take over as she just wanted him to get off her. Stop the pain.
Using her free leg, she put all her force into smashing her foot straight into Maxwell's jaw. She held nothing back. While the initial impact originally made the pain worse as she felt the teeth dig deeper still, she eventually felt Maxwell's jaw dislodge from her leg. She didn't have time to take enjoyment from being free from the pain, not when Chuck was ready to attack. She needed to make the most of the opportunity that presented itself.
She quickly crawled towards the cleaver still lodged in Maxwell's leg and ripped it out. Immediately following that, she pushed herself up and lunged herself at Chuck. She knew she couldn't rest on her laurels. This was the moment. All she had to do was get the cleaver into his skull. Maxwell would be easy to deal with once she dealt with Chuck. She could see the resolution in sight. All she needed to do was hit Chuck.
Unfortunately, Maxwell had done a number on her ankle. In her rush to attack Chuck, she put too much weight on the ankle that he had gnawed upon. Saachi yelled and tried to grit through the pain, however, the pain caused her to trip towards Chuck. Trying to make the most of the situation, Saachi used the momentum to attempt to swing the cleaver into his skull.
"I refuse to just roll over and die!"
(Minus accessories)
(Minus accessories)
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Chuck failed to fire, again.
All she was doing now was kicking. In the moment, it seemed...disproportionate to fire a lethal weapon. Of course, that concern dissipated in its entirety when one considered the whole context, but it was enough to frustrate any impulse that would otherwise have compelled him to pull the trigger. The price, of course, was more pain for Maxwell. Even with his injuries, he could handle himself, had fight left within him, and Chuck respected that, admired that. Wished he could do the same in his position.
The price for this lapse in the killer instinct was not just paid by Maxwell, however. Chuck had settled into the comfortable complacency of being a spectator. Of being able to imagine himself as some impartial spectator, an aloof observer, with insights into the situation yet not himself ensnared within it.
He had been quite lucky so far. Relatively few situations where he had been a major player in any conflict. And so it was all too easy for him to treat his own presence there as an afterthought. Chuck had, whether out of self-deprecation or self-aggrandisement, discounted the possibility that Saachi would charge at him. She had injuries, after all. She was exhausted, weighed down by guilt and hubris. He had a gun, she didn't.
He was preparing to shoot her. But...in the event that she made another move on Maxwell. That's what he was primed for. Chuck hadn't prepared his instincts for an attack on his own self. He had a few extra moments to react. He didn't. Not until she was falling towards him.
He turned his gun around, holding it with the long side facing her, a kind of impromptu barrier to keep her away as her weight sent him tumbling to the ground too. She had swung the cleaver. Missed. Chuck fell to the ground. She was on top of him, and he was using his gun as a way to push her off.
There was so much Chuck wanted to say to her. To try and reach that erstwhile fellow debating enthusiast that he knew could be reached through reason, through empathy, through logic. But instead, he went for the simple line. The effective line. The bit that would hit anyone with even a slither of conscience left within them. Not to redeem her. But to hurt her.
"Like you gave other people the choice!"
And by the side of Chuck's head, a tiny triangle of white cloth began to seep into the mud.
All she was doing now was kicking. In the moment, it seemed...disproportionate to fire a lethal weapon. Of course, that concern dissipated in its entirety when one considered the whole context, but it was enough to frustrate any impulse that would otherwise have compelled him to pull the trigger. The price, of course, was more pain for Maxwell. Even with his injuries, he could handle himself, had fight left within him, and Chuck respected that, admired that. Wished he could do the same in his position.
The price for this lapse in the killer instinct was not just paid by Maxwell, however. Chuck had settled into the comfortable complacency of being a spectator. Of being able to imagine himself as some impartial spectator, an aloof observer, with insights into the situation yet not himself ensnared within it.
He had been quite lucky so far. Relatively few situations where he had been a major player in any conflict. And so it was all too easy for him to treat his own presence there as an afterthought. Chuck had, whether out of self-deprecation or self-aggrandisement, discounted the possibility that Saachi would charge at him. She had injuries, after all. She was exhausted, weighed down by guilt and hubris. He had a gun, she didn't.
He was preparing to shoot her. But...in the event that she made another move on Maxwell. That's what he was primed for. Chuck hadn't prepared his instincts for an attack on his own self. He had a few extra moments to react. He didn't. Not until she was falling towards him.
He turned his gun around, holding it with the long side facing her, a kind of impromptu barrier to keep her away as her weight sent him tumbling to the ground too. She had swung the cleaver. Missed. Chuck fell to the ground. She was on top of him, and he was using his gun as a way to push her off.
There was so much Chuck wanted to say to her. To try and reach that erstwhile fellow debating enthusiast that he knew could be reached through reason, through empathy, through logic. But instead, he went for the simple line. The effective line. The bit that would hit anyone with even a slither of conscience left within them. Not to redeem her. But to hurt her.
"Like you gave other people the choice!"
And by the side of Chuck's head, a tiny triangle of white cloth began to seep into the mud.
-
jimmydalad
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:38 pm
Saachi messily grappled with Chuck, trying her best to get in a good position to finish him off. She let out high pitched yells as she frustratedly tried to get past the gun that had now formed a barrier between her and Chuck. With each movement she made, Chuck would respond in kind and it quickly became a deadly dance on the floor as they both tried to jostle for the prime position.
His next words stoked her emotions even further as frustration and fury started to rise to the top to match the tears that were pouring out of her eyes.
"I gave Soren a choice and he didn't take it!"
She raised her arm and tried to slam the cleaver into Chuck's skull. He quickly dodged to the left as the cleaver lodged itself in the dirt a little.
"I gave Maxwell a choice and he wouldn't leave me alone either!"
Her voice started to crack as she ripped the cleaver out and tried again. Chuck dodged again. Screaming in exasperation, Saachi repeated the motion again and again. She just couldn't hit Chuck. He'd always dodge or the gun would obstruct her attack and cause her to miss. As she did so, she continued to yell at Chuck.
"No matter what I do, I'm always going to be hounded by people who want to kill me. I don't have a fucking choice anymore. My hands are being forced to kill when I just want to be left the fuck alone!"
At that point, Chuck fiddled with his gun and smashed the butt of the gun into her gut. Saachi reeled backwards, clutching onto the stomach and walking backwards slightly. She felt herself get closer to the edge of the tar pit knowing that she was playing a dangerous game. She did her best to hold her ground as she lifted her head to face Chuck, her eyes red with tears and filled with fury.
"I know this is the path I chose for myself, but don't assume I didn't give all of them a chance. I never killed just because I felt like it. I am not a psychopath. I just had to make the hard decisions that no one else was going to make!"
She knew at the back of her mind that trying to convince Chuck was an exercise in futility. He was firmly against her and he'd been a dick to her ever since they met on the island. Even with that, the irrational part of her wanted something to break through. To let people know she wasn't just a total monster. But she had a feeling it was too late for that.
His next words stoked her emotions even further as frustration and fury started to rise to the top to match the tears that were pouring out of her eyes.
"I gave Soren a choice and he didn't take it!"
She raised her arm and tried to slam the cleaver into Chuck's skull. He quickly dodged to the left as the cleaver lodged itself in the dirt a little.
"I gave Maxwell a choice and he wouldn't leave me alone either!"
Her voice started to crack as she ripped the cleaver out and tried again. Chuck dodged again. Screaming in exasperation, Saachi repeated the motion again and again. She just couldn't hit Chuck. He'd always dodge or the gun would obstruct her attack and cause her to miss. As she did so, she continued to yell at Chuck.
"No matter what I do, I'm always going to be hounded by people who want to kill me. I don't have a fucking choice anymore. My hands are being forced to kill when I just want to be left the fuck alone!"
At that point, Chuck fiddled with his gun and smashed the butt of the gun into her gut. Saachi reeled backwards, clutching onto the stomach and walking backwards slightly. She felt herself get closer to the edge of the tar pit knowing that she was playing a dangerous game. She did her best to hold her ground as she lifted her head to face Chuck, her eyes red with tears and filled with fury.
"I know this is the path I chose for myself, but don't assume I didn't give all of them a chance. I never killed just because I felt like it. I am not a psychopath. I just had to make the hard decisions that no one else was going to make!"
She knew at the back of her mind that trying to convince Chuck was an exercise in futility. He was firmly against her and he'd been a dick to her ever since they met on the island. Even with that, the irrational part of her wanted something to break through. To let people know she wasn't just a total monster. But she had a feeling it was too late for that.
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
And there it was. The...twisted, convoluted, tortuous idea that had driven Saachi, that sat at the centre of her psyche. The one idea that had allowed her to sleep at night. To live with her name being an inescapable fixture of the announcements. To seek that feeling again and again.
A fucked up idea of what choice meant.
Chuck technically had a choice, as he used the AK-47 to hold Saachi off, as he jolted his head from side to side to dodge Saachi's erratic, but ultimately predictable, cleaver swings. Technically, he could have pursued a different angle. But his own instincts, the chemical and neurological reaction his brain had to being confronted with the threat of imminent butchery, meant that it didn't feel like a choice. Alternative options for countering Saachi weren't really coming to him. They existed, they could theoretically be chosen, but he wasn't in a state to pick them.
And so he was kept alive by the monotony of Saachi's strategy. If she changed rhythm, changed method? Bam, probably dead.
So he didn't have much choice in how he resisted. But he could, much like the names Saachi listed, and likely much like the myriad of names now forever tied to hers, he had a choice not to resist. But was it really a choice? When the alternative was to put his life in her hands, to leave himself at her mercy?
Scarlett, too, probably had a choice, in Saachi's strange world. A choice not to get on Saachi's bad side. A choice not to fight back against Miranda. A choice not to stand in the path of Saachi's bullets. A choice to not be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
It was logic Danya would be proud of.
He kept this all to himself. Too complicated to convey. This wasn't a debate, with its rules imposing cordiality and clarity. Throughout their scuffle, he voiced his disapproval, as well as his fear and exhaustion, with scoffs and grunts.
As he pushed her off, the AK-47 getting surprising utility as a melee weapon, Chuck scrambled to his feet. The advantage of height had not been one he'd ever much enjoyed, or had potential to enjoy, so he embraced it here. And he aimed the gun at her, for a headshot. Again. Back where they started. Contemplated, now that he held the floor, to voice his frustrations in words. Chuck tried to speak. He was breathing too heavily, his throat too dry, his body too tired, to spare the energy.
"Oh, I get your argument. I don't agree with it, but I get it. "
A simple reply would do best. This wasn't a debate, after all. It was a fight.
"You're not a psychopath. You're just a fucking idiot."
He lowered his gun. Fired a shot into the ground next to her. To show he was willing to fire. That he was able to fire.
A fucked up idea of what choice meant.
Chuck technically had a choice, as he used the AK-47 to hold Saachi off, as he jolted his head from side to side to dodge Saachi's erratic, but ultimately predictable, cleaver swings. Technically, he could have pursued a different angle. But his own instincts, the chemical and neurological reaction his brain had to being confronted with the threat of imminent butchery, meant that it didn't feel like a choice. Alternative options for countering Saachi weren't really coming to him. They existed, they could theoretically be chosen, but he wasn't in a state to pick them.
And so he was kept alive by the monotony of Saachi's strategy. If she changed rhythm, changed method? Bam, probably dead.
So he didn't have much choice in how he resisted. But he could, much like the names Saachi listed, and likely much like the myriad of names now forever tied to hers, he had a choice not to resist. But was it really a choice? When the alternative was to put his life in her hands, to leave himself at her mercy?
Scarlett, too, probably had a choice, in Saachi's strange world. A choice not to get on Saachi's bad side. A choice not to fight back against Miranda. A choice not to stand in the path of Saachi's bullets. A choice to not be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
It was logic Danya would be proud of.
He kept this all to himself. Too complicated to convey. This wasn't a debate, with its rules imposing cordiality and clarity. Throughout their scuffle, he voiced his disapproval, as well as his fear and exhaustion, with scoffs and grunts.
As he pushed her off, the AK-47 getting surprising utility as a melee weapon, Chuck scrambled to his feet. The advantage of height had not been one he'd ever much enjoyed, or had potential to enjoy, so he embraced it here. And he aimed the gun at her, for a headshot. Again. Back where they started. Contemplated, now that he held the floor, to voice his frustrations in words. Chuck tried to speak. He was breathing too heavily, his throat too dry, his body too tired, to spare the energy.
"Oh, I get your argument. I don't agree with it, but I get it. "
A simple reply would do best. This wasn't a debate, after all. It was a fight.
"You're not a psychopath. You're just a fucking idiot."
He lowered his gun. Fired a shot into the ground next to her. To show he was willing to fire. That he was able to fire.
-
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:
Maxwell, too, was able to fire.
However, he didn't quite see the point in wasting ammo on making a pointless message.
The foot — the one Maxwell hadn't gotten his jaw around — had kicked. Hit him at the bottom of his chin. The other foot, the ankle, had torn itself out of his maw, a metallic sensation having filled his mouth as tooth got ripped from jaw. There had been pain — there always had been, Maxwell could still feel the iron that had poured across his mouth — but it had become dull near immediately. It had faded into the background compared to the screaming of his legs and shoulders. Those voices had too faded by his own volition as his head had turned and as his mind had focused on what was going on, on what Saachi was doing. On how Chuck was reacting to all of this.
As it turned out, they had been ignoring him. For two people who apparently prided themselves on being so smart, Maxwell had thought that as being fairly idiotic.
That only suited him, however.
He'd seen the gun in the corner of his eye as Saachi and Chuck had begun their argument. Since they had started ignoring him, Maxwell had figured that then was as good as any time to go for it. He had crawled, pushed himself along the ground of the tar pits. The pain had still been there — it still was, even now — but he could push it aside. Ignore it. Take the one working arm, take the one working leg, and use that to send him forward.
By the time Saachi had started soapboxing, acting as if she was the whole victim in this matter, Maxwell had been able to curl the fingers of his one good hand around the shotgun.
By the time Chuck had for whatever godforsaken reason understood Saachi's argument, Maxwell had realized that he wouldn't be able to lift the gun up. Instead, he moved it on the ground. Rotated it so that it was pointing at Saachi.
By the time Chuck had wasted his ammo, by the time he'd made his pointless message, Maxwell was ready to pull the trigger.
So he did.
The screams from his leg, from his shoulder, from his jaw were drowned out as the sound of fire called from right next to him.
However, he didn't quite see the point in wasting ammo on making a pointless message.
The foot — the one Maxwell hadn't gotten his jaw around — had kicked. Hit him at the bottom of his chin. The other foot, the ankle, had torn itself out of his maw, a metallic sensation having filled his mouth as tooth got ripped from jaw. There had been pain — there always had been, Maxwell could still feel the iron that had poured across his mouth — but it had become dull near immediately. It had faded into the background compared to the screaming of his legs and shoulders. Those voices had too faded by his own volition as his head had turned and as his mind had focused on what was going on, on what Saachi was doing. On how Chuck was reacting to all of this.
As it turned out, they had been ignoring him. For two people who apparently prided themselves on being so smart, Maxwell had thought that as being fairly idiotic.
That only suited him, however.
He'd seen the gun in the corner of his eye as Saachi and Chuck had begun their argument. Since they had started ignoring him, Maxwell had figured that then was as good as any time to go for it. He had crawled, pushed himself along the ground of the tar pits. The pain had still been there — it still was, even now — but he could push it aside. Ignore it. Take the one working arm, take the one working leg, and use that to send him forward.
By the time Saachi had started soapboxing, acting as if she was the whole victim in this matter, Maxwell had been able to curl the fingers of his one good hand around the shotgun.
By the time Chuck had for whatever godforsaken reason understood Saachi's argument, Maxwell had realized that he wouldn't be able to lift the gun up. Instead, he moved it on the ground. Rotated it so that it was pointing at Saachi.
By the time Chuck had wasted his ammo, by the time he'd made his pointless message, Maxwell was ready to pull the trigger.
So he did.
The screams from his leg, from his shoulder, from his jaw were drowned out as the sound of fire called from right next to him.
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
Chuck had not, in fact, forgotten Maxwell.
He had made a rather more severe mistake. He had, temporarily, placed some trust in him. Trust to do or not do what, that wasn't exactly clear. Before the island, Chuck would not have placed much trust in Maxwell. Just something about his whole...schtick screamed sleaziness. But given a choice between keeping his eyes on Saachi or keeping his eyes on Maxwell, now that the island had revealed the true character of both, was not a difficult dilemma.
But it was a choice admittedly made without fully knowing what Maxwell was like. Chuck would imagine there'd be a degree of gratitude, for saving his life, but with an understandable quantity of frustration thrown in the mix too, for his token attempts to converse with Saachi, for his palpable reluctance to pull the trigger and conclusively end the threat that she posed.
And so when that gunshot rang out from behind him, Chuck, for a second, feared betrayal.
But in the split second that paused, Chuck retained full consciousness. He was still alive, and not crippled by pain.
It had been Saachi that was injured. Her leg, almost blown out from underneath her. She fell to one knee. It had...hit her from a very low angle. Almost like that doctor from Hot Fuzz.
This was it. Time to end this. Time to show Maxwell that he was willing to put the work in. To prove that he was willing to share the felonious burden of this island, to prove that he wasn't a coward. To get revenge, for Scarlett and Natali and Adonis and Soren and Kyran and Michael and everyone else that she had killed or made suffer. For their families, for their friends.
So that the surviving kid would be a traumatised kid, rather than a monster.
He stepped forward, and kicked Saachi square in the stomach. Enough, Chuck hoped, to send her hurtling down into the tar pit behind her.
He had made a rather more severe mistake. He had, temporarily, placed some trust in him. Trust to do or not do what, that wasn't exactly clear. Before the island, Chuck would not have placed much trust in Maxwell. Just something about his whole...schtick screamed sleaziness. But given a choice between keeping his eyes on Saachi or keeping his eyes on Maxwell, now that the island had revealed the true character of both, was not a difficult dilemma.
But it was a choice admittedly made without fully knowing what Maxwell was like. Chuck would imagine there'd be a degree of gratitude, for saving his life, but with an understandable quantity of frustration thrown in the mix too, for his token attempts to converse with Saachi, for his palpable reluctance to pull the trigger and conclusively end the threat that she posed.
And so when that gunshot rang out from behind him, Chuck, for a second, feared betrayal.
But in the split second that paused, Chuck retained full consciousness. He was still alive, and not crippled by pain.
It had been Saachi that was injured. Her leg, almost blown out from underneath her. She fell to one knee. It had...hit her from a very low angle. Almost like that doctor from Hot Fuzz.
This was it. Time to end this. Time to show Maxwell that he was willing to put the work in. To prove that he was willing to share the felonious burden of this island, to prove that he wasn't a coward. To get revenge, for Scarlett and Natali and Adonis and Soren and Kyran and Michael and everyone else that she had killed or made suffer. For their families, for their friends.
So that the surviving kid would be a traumatised kid, rather than a monster.
He stepped forward, and kicked Saachi square in the stomach. Enough, Chuck hoped, to send her hurtling down into the tar pit behind her.
-
jimmydalad
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:38 pm
In her crazed fervour to keep herself safe from Chuck, Saachi had completely overlooked Maxwell. She thought she had subdued him enough that once she finished off Chuck, he would be easy pickings. That was a fatal mistake. As she backed away slightly from the shots from Chuck's gun, she suddenly heard another shot and a sudden intense pain burst through her leg. Saachi let out a high pitched scream, her injured leg buckling as the reality of what was happening was starting to dawn on her. With wide eyes, she looked at Maxwell and saw him with her gun.
The next thing she knew, she felt the air leave her stomach for the final time as Chuck smashed her in the gut. Unable to steady herself from the momentum, she fell back to her certain demise, unable to catch herself as she laid faceup against the tar. The sickening smell clogged her senses and she felt the warm liquid ensnare her within its grasp. At first, she tried to struggle but quickly realised that it only made things worse. She knew calling out for help would do nothing either. After all, who would want to help someone like her? The realisation of her situation started to crash around her and everything she had worked for, everything she had given up in the name of success in the game was cruelly taken away from her. Knowing the situation was hopeless, there was only one thing she could do.
She cried.
It was a pathetic sight. She knew it was but she didn't care. She was tired, terrified and despondent. She knew that she was going to die. There was no one who was coming to save her and there were no tricks she could employ. Even if she wasn't trapped in the tar, her leg being effectively shot out ruined any potential chance she had at making it to the end. This was the end of the line for her. She wouldn't be able to achieve the victory she strived for, the victory that would justify everything she did. In the end, all she would be painted as was a monster. Someone who just snapped and was crazy and evil. She couldn't employ revisionist history from beyond the grave and there was a high chance that the last person standing was someone who stood against her. They wouldn't see her side. They wouldn't know what she went through.
More tears came out, but she tried her best to maintain her composure. While she knew she was going to die, she didn't want to die being known as the psycho of the island. She had a story, one that she wasn't going to be able to tell to the world, but her story was just as valid as anyone else's. She tried to take deep breaths, battling the tears that insisted on flowing. She had to do this now, while she still had a chance. She pushed her neck upwards, fighting against the tar and looked at Maxwell and Chuck straight in the eyes. They were two of her biggest rivals and probably hated her guts, but she couldn't be picky about her audience. Taking a few more deep breaths, she forced out the words through her tears.
"I-I know I'm going to die. T-that much is obvious. However, I-I'd like to tell my story, m-my side of things. I know y-you probably wouldn't want to hear it and y-you have no r-reason to honour the dying wish of someone w-who'd done the things that I did. B-But, I.. I... I d-don't want people to think that I-I'm just a psycho. Afterwards, you can kill me. B-but please, l-let me have my final words."
The next thing she knew, she felt the air leave her stomach for the final time as Chuck smashed her in the gut. Unable to steady herself from the momentum, she fell back to her certain demise, unable to catch herself as she laid faceup against the tar. The sickening smell clogged her senses and she felt the warm liquid ensnare her within its grasp. At first, she tried to struggle but quickly realised that it only made things worse. She knew calling out for help would do nothing either. After all, who would want to help someone like her? The realisation of her situation started to crash around her and everything she had worked for, everything she had given up in the name of success in the game was cruelly taken away from her. Knowing the situation was hopeless, there was only one thing she could do.
She cried.
It was a pathetic sight. She knew it was but she didn't care. She was tired, terrified and despondent. She knew that she was going to die. There was no one who was coming to save her and there were no tricks she could employ. Even if she wasn't trapped in the tar, her leg being effectively shot out ruined any potential chance she had at making it to the end. This was the end of the line for her. She wouldn't be able to achieve the victory she strived for, the victory that would justify everything she did. In the end, all she would be painted as was a monster. Someone who just snapped and was crazy and evil. She couldn't employ revisionist history from beyond the grave and there was a high chance that the last person standing was someone who stood against her. They wouldn't see her side. They wouldn't know what she went through.
More tears came out, but she tried her best to maintain her composure. While she knew she was going to die, she didn't want to die being known as the psycho of the island. She had a story, one that she wasn't going to be able to tell to the world, but her story was just as valid as anyone else's. She tried to take deep breaths, battling the tears that insisted on flowing. She had to do this now, while she still had a chance. She pushed her neck upwards, fighting against the tar and looked at Maxwell and Chuck straight in the eyes. They were two of her biggest rivals and probably hated her guts, but she couldn't be picky about her audience. Taking a few more deep breaths, she forced out the words through her tears.
"I-I know I'm going to die. T-that much is obvious. However, I-I'd like to tell my story, m-my side of things. I know y-you probably wouldn't want to hear it and y-you have no r-reason to honour the dying wish of someone w-who'd done the things that I did. B-But, I.. I... I d-don't want people to think that I-I'm just a psycho. Afterwards, you can kill me. B-but please, l-let me have my final words."
-
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:
It happened.
The shot hit. Flesh and blood tore from the back of Saachi's leg as she buckled. Screamed. Fell. The heat on his skin, the tingling of his arms as he laughed, felt that feeling of satisfaction because he'd finally done something. He'd finally made up for Lyndi's, for Jason's, for Ramona's death. He'd finally done something Paris would have wanted him to do, he'd finally made an action against the people killing others.
He'd finally made Saachi pay.
The final attack from Chuck, the final push that drove Saachi into the tar didn't deter from that feeling. Instead, it drove him to get up. Stand.
Fall back down after only getting to his knee, left leg screaming in pain as he tried to clench his teeth, as he tried to move it up again. It took a while, it took… more attempts than Maxwell would like to admit, but eventually, it was done. Eventually, he could stand. Eventually, he could hobble, limp over to where Chuck was, above the pit Saachi was in.
She almost looked pitiful.
She almost sounded pitiful as well, what with her crying, with her insinuation that she wasn't a monster despite the fact that she'd killed nine people, she was the real the innocent one here.
His body seethed. The air in his lungs pushed some of his teeth upwards as they dangled from his mouth. If it weren't for the fact that the shotgun was in his only remaining hand, he was sure that it would have started bleeding, given how much he wanted to ball his fist.
Whatever.
"Fine."
She was as good as dead anyway.
"Be quick."
The shot hit. Flesh and blood tore from the back of Saachi's leg as she buckled. Screamed. Fell. The heat on his skin, the tingling of his arms as he laughed, felt that feeling of satisfaction because he'd finally done something. He'd finally made up for Lyndi's, for Jason's, for Ramona's death. He'd finally done something Paris would have wanted him to do, he'd finally made an action against the people killing others.
He'd finally made Saachi pay.
The final attack from Chuck, the final push that drove Saachi into the tar didn't deter from that feeling. Instead, it drove him to get up. Stand.
Fall back down after only getting to his knee, left leg screaming in pain as he tried to clench his teeth, as he tried to move it up again. It took a while, it took… more attempts than Maxwell would like to admit, but eventually, it was done. Eventually, he could stand. Eventually, he could hobble, limp over to where Chuck was, above the pit Saachi was in.
She almost looked pitiful.
She almost sounded pitiful as well, what with her crying, with her insinuation that she wasn't a monster despite the fact that she'd killed nine people, she was the real the innocent one here.
His body seethed. The air in his lungs pushed some of his teeth upwards as they dangled from his mouth. If it weren't for the fact that the shotgun was in his only remaining hand, he was sure that it would have started bleeding, given how much he wanted to ball his fist.
Whatever.
"Fine."
She was as good as dead anyway.
"Be quick."
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
What a change a few seconds could make. Saachi had gone from a threat to being at death's door. Rather...routine for the island, Chuck supposed. She had had, at least, more warning than many others. More chance to process her fate, more chance to realise the trajectory of the fight turning against her. A chance to get a final monologue. To air her concerns. To set her story straight.
To justify - no, explain, she could never justify - her actions.
Maxwell surprised Chuck, when he adopted the position of the good cop. Sure, he didn't exactly have the gentle timbre or reassuring words that normally came with that role, but he granted Saachi her final wish. Chuck was planning on doing that regardless, but expected Maxwell to...walk away.
Maxwell didn't exactly seem in the most charitable mood towards Saachi. So perhaps his motivation was the same as Chuck's.
Curiosity.
Well, that was half of Chuck's motivation. The other half was because he did believe the kids here deserved a chance to put the record straight, to get all their thoughts out there, convey all their needed messages. Even Saachi.
"Alright," Chuck added, pulling out his crossbow from his bag, loading a bolt. Good to have both weapons fully locked and loaded. "Sure. You have a chance to...explain yourself. Apologise for what you've done. Tell your story."
Chuck found his volume raising, his cheeks reddening, a venomous bile seeping into his words. "Even though you didn't give that chance to anyone else."
To justify - no, explain, she could never justify - her actions.
Maxwell surprised Chuck, when he adopted the position of the good cop. Sure, he didn't exactly have the gentle timbre or reassuring words that normally came with that role, but he granted Saachi her final wish. Chuck was planning on doing that regardless, but expected Maxwell to...walk away.
Maxwell didn't exactly seem in the most charitable mood towards Saachi. So perhaps his motivation was the same as Chuck's.
Curiosity.
Well, that was half of Chuck's motivation. The other half was because he did believe the kids here deserved a chance to put the record straight, to get all their thoughts out there, convey all their needed messages. Even Saachi.
"Alright," Chuck added, pulling out his crossbow from his bag, loading a bolt. Good to have both weapons fully locked and loaded. "Sure. You have a chance to...explain yourself. Apologise for what you've done. Tell your story."
Chuck found his volume raising, his cheeks reddening, a venomous bile seeping into his words. "Even though you didn't give that chance to anyone else."
-
jimmydalad
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:38 pm
Saachi was about to make a quip in response to Chuck's words, but she decided to hold back. She knew she wasn't in the position to really be asserting herself like that. In fact, it was a privilege that she was given such an opportunity to do so. Chuck did state the truth, however, to some extent. She gave last words to Ramona, she remembered that. Everyone else didn't have a chance to, mostly due to the tactics she employed to kill them. Cleavers to the head or being shot didn't tend to leave you alive for long.
Still, she tried her best to stop the tears. Now that she was a bit calmer, she wanted her last moments to not be so pathetic. Though that may be too late, at least she wanted to put a little effort into maintaining a strong facade. At least for a little bit.
"Thank you." Saachi started, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, consciously aware that her body was slowly sinking. From there, she began to speak. Her voice shook a little, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by the emotions and the pain in her leg. She did her best to fight them.
"I guess I'll start at the beginning. I just wake up and enter the warehouse. Jay comes out of nowhere with a net and starts kicking the shit out of me. If I was a guy, I'd be dead, but as soon as he realised I was a girl, he stopped. That was enough for me to start thinking. At that moment, I realised that others were already playing. If someone got the jump on me, I'd be dead. I... was scared. Terrified. I wanted to live. Anyone would. So I decided to play."
She hated thinking back to her first moments on the island. Her first moment of weakness, her first vulnerability. The pain she experienced then was nothing compared to now, but looking at the moment now. That was the beginning of everything. That start lead to this moment. She sighed softly to herself, looking away from the pair for a second before continuing. She'd started to regain her composure, slowly coming to accept the situation she was in. She didn't like it, but there was nothing she could do anymore.
"I teamed up with Jay, thinking that it was better to keep him as an ally rather than an enemy. That was a mistake. It was a vicious cycle. I'd egg him on and he'd do the same. We'd reinforce this idea that killing was the correct way and we were only doing it to survive. The game's design was completely based on killing. Someone had to die at least once per day so that we all didn't just have our collars blown off. Then again, things were always uneasy with Jay. We fought a lot and there were times I was scared he was just going to flip and kill me. If you'd believe it, he was much less in control of himself than I was."
She paused for a second, wondering how to approach what she said next. Considering Lyndi's boyfriend was right there with a shotgun, she was worried he'd shoot her head off because of what she would have to say. However, she was probably going to die anyway and it was better to at least get her truth out, even if that truth clashed with theirs.
"It's my fault that Lyndi died. We encountered her group at the Parish. We caught Felicia a little separated from the group and I was on top of her. But I hesitated. I wanted it to be quick and painless for her, but she continued to struggle. Before I had a chance to strike, Lyndi jumped on top of me and Jay took my cleaver. Lyndi died on top of me."
She found it hard to look at Maxwell. She didn't want to see his face, see the pain that she had inflicted. Up until now, she'd never really had to properly face the people associated with her victims. It made her uncomfortable, recognising how much emotional pain she had put them through. They were probably experiencing a similar pain that she did when Miranda died.
"Once you have a dead person bleeding on top of you, it gets a little easier. My first kill was the next day. He was on his own and I knew he wasn't very popular. I didn't want to get too many people mad at me at the time, but then again, look how that turned out for me. That one was quick, a quick cleaver to the head. I'd like to think it was painless for him. It helped me sleep better. A few moments afterwards, we were ambushed by KK. I tried to be diplomatic with her, but Jay enraged her and she attacked him. By the time she left, I had no way of telling if he was alive or dead. He was just a mess of bullet wounds and blood and vomit. I didn't know I was the one to land the killing blow till the announcements next day. He must've been in such pain until then."
She bit her lip as the image of Jay's body flashed back in her mind. That was probably one of the most sickening sights she saw on the island. Even with Jay being the way he was, he didn't deserve that. No one did. She could feel herself slowly sinking deeper and realised she didn't have too much luxury with her time remaining.
"Once you've killed, it's hard to stop killing. Nearly everyone on the island reacts to you with hostility and the bodies just add up like a snowball. I mean, the next day after those deaths was when I first met here, Chuck. I guess it isn't really an excuse, considering that I decided to play the game in the first place, but even if I wanted to stop playing after the second day, I fully believe that others would've forced my hand. In any case, because of that and my desire to survive, I decided to keep playing. I worked myself into a clinical mindset like I was at school or work. I did my best to keep my emotions out of it because I didn't want to acknowledge my fear. I tried to continually justify my actions even as I killed more and more people and let the island get into me and my thought processes."
She knew she was starting to work herself up, so she stopped. Deep breaths Saachi, keep composed and strong. Make a good final impression, or at least try. She took a moment to herself before continuing.
"I'd like to think that I never killed just because I wanted to. I never killed because I enjoyed killing. Still, it's hard for me to fully conjure up my reasonings at the time. I killed so many, that they started to blur together at some point. Though I remember Ramona and of course the conversation I had with you, Maxwell. When your group talked about escaping, those feelings of fear were brought to the forefront. I knew by that point the only way I'd be able to be seen as anything but a psycho was if I was the last one standing. I wanted to be right so bad, that my approach to the game was correct so that I wouldn't be seen as an idiot that lost her mind. I had to stop that escape attempt, though Zubin exploded before I had a chance to."
"I think it was Miranda's death that snapped me out of that clinical approach. I still blame myself for Miranda's death. I sent her alone to face your group alone Chuck. If I had planned things better, if I had been smarter, she'd still be alive. It was feeling that pain, that sleepless night, that made me realise just how much pain I was inflicting. When I killed, I never thought about how it would affect the people left alive. Just that they'd be angry at me. I felt my motivation drain, just like that. From then on, I just wanted to be alone. Have time to grieve. With the danger zones, I only realized when Maxwell arrived that I would've never been able to get that."
She felt the tears reform on her cheeks as she talked about Miranda. She wanted to win for Miranda, as well as herself. To show that Miranda wasn't stupid for backing her horse and working with her. That she didn't die pointlessly. But she did, as she could never shake the feeling that everyone she killed died pointlessly. If she had won, she could justify it to herself. But now, she was recognising that maybe she was wrong. At least to an extent.
Saachi found it hard to think of a way to escape killing. The killing was ingrained onto the island. It was a way of life here. Unless they pulled off a miracle and somehow escaped, there was nothing any of them could've done. Saachi never believed in miracles. Only in hard work and perserverence. That was the Nidal way, even if it rubbed others the wrong way. As she lay there, however, maybe she should've.
"I guess that leads here now. Now that I think about it, it was the first day that set me on this path. I now can't help but wonder what if that didn't happen to me. What if I woke up with one of you instead of Jay. Maybe I'd be on your side and a lot more people would be alive now. Or maybe someone else would've taken my place."
She lingered on that thought for a while, even as she felt herself sinking lower. It was a pretty thought. Probably not grounded in any reality, but a wishful one nonetheless. She wouldn't have had to dirty her hands or lose herself to the game. She could've been a good guy. Could've been seem as at least possibly redeemable.
Then again, she had a strong feeling that it was a dream and nothing more. Unobtainable and fanciful.
"In the end, I chose the path I did. While I wouldn't say it's an excuse, I'd like to hope that I could explain why I did it. I never killed for the sake of it. I was just motivated for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to be right, so right that I could rub it in faces like yours. But, in the end, I guess I was wrong."
She sighed to herself.
"I guess I have one more request, if you don't mind me being... a little selfish."
She looked at the pair.
"Kill me now. I.. don't want to be left with my emotions."
Still, she tried her best to stop the tears. Now that she was a bit calmer, she wanted her last moments to not be so pathetic. Though that may be too late, at least she wanted to put a little effort into maintaining a strong facade. At least for a little bit.
"Thank you." Saachi started, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, consciously aware that her body was slowly sinking. From there, she began to speak. Her voice shook a little, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by the emotions and the pain in her leg. She did her best to fight them.
"I guess I'll start at the beginning. I just wake up and enter the warehouse. Jay comes out of nowhere with a net and starts kicking the shit out of me. If I was a guy, I'd be dead, but as soon as he realised I was a girl, he stopped. That was enough for me to start thinking. At that moment, I realised that others were already playing. If someone got the jump on me, I'd be dead. I... was scared. Terrified. I wanted to live. Anyone would. So I decided to play."
She hated thinking back to her first moments on the island. Her first moment of weakness, her first vulnerability. The pain she experienced then was nothing compared to now, but looking at the moment now. That was the beginning of everything. That start lead to this moment. She sighed softly to herself, looking away from the pair for a second before continuing. She'd started to regain her composure, slowly coming to accept the situation she was in. She didn't like it, but there was nothing she could do anymore.
"I teamed up with Jay, thinking that it was better to keep him as an ally rather than an enemy. That was a mistake. It was a vicious cycle. I'd egg him on and he'd do the same. We'd reinforce this idea that killing was the correct way and we were only doing it to survive. The game's design was completely based on killing. Someone had to die at least once per day so that we all didn't just have our collars blown off. Then again, things were always uneasy with Jay. We fought a lot and there were times I was scared he was just going to flip and kill me. If you'd believe it, he was much less in control of himself than I was."
She paused for a second, wondering how to approach what she said next. Considering Lyndi's boyfriend was right there with a shotgun, she was worried he'd shoot her head off because of what she would have to say. However, she was probably going to die anyway and it was better to at least get her truth out, even if that truth clashed with theirs.
"It's my fault that Lyndi died. We encountered her group at the Parish. We caught Felicia a little separated from the group and I was on top of her. But I hesitated. I wanted it to be quick and painless for her, but she continued to struggle. Before I had a chance to strike, Lyndi jumped on top of me and Jay took my cleaver. Lyndi died on top of me."
She found it hard to look at Maxwell. She didn't want to see his face, see the pain that she had inflicted. Up until now, she'd never really had to properly face the people associated with her victims. It made her uncomfortable, recognising how much emotional pain she had put them through. They were probably experiencing a similar pain that she did when Miranda died.
"Once you have a dead person bleeding on top of you, it gets a little easier. My first kill was the next day. He was on his own and I knew he wasn't very popular. I didn't want to get too many people mad at me at the time, but then again, look how that turned out for me. That one was quick, a quick cleaver to the head. I'd like to think it was painless for him. It helped me sleep better. A few moments afterwards, we were ambushed by KK. I tried to be diplomatic with her, but Jay enraged her and she attacked him. By the time she left, I had no way of telling if he was alive or dead. He was just a mess of bullet wounds and blood and vomit. I didn't know I was the one to land the killing blow till the announcements next day. He must've been in such pain until then."
She bit her lip as the image of Jay's body flashed back in her mind. That was probably one of the most sickening sights she saw on the island. Even with Jay being the way he was, he didn't deserve that. No one did. She could feel herself slowly sinking deeper and realised she didn't have too much luxury with her time remaining.
"Once you've killed, it's hard to stop killing. Nearly everyone on the island reacts to you with hostility and the bodies just add up like a snowball. I mean, the next day after those deaths was when I first met here, Chuck. I guess it isn't really an excuse, considering that I decided to play the game in the first place, but even if I wanted to stop playing after the second day, I fully believe that others would've forced my hand. In any case, because of that and my desire to survive, I decided to keep playing. I worked myself into a clinical mindset like I was at school or work. I did my best to keep my emotions out of it because I didn't want to acknowledge my fear. I tried to continually justify my actions even as I killed more and more people and let the island get into me and my thought processes."
She knew she was starting to work herself up, so she stopped. Deep breaths Saachi, keep composed and strong. Make a good final impression, or at least try. She took a moment to herself before continuing.
"I'd like to think that I never killed just because I wanted to. I never killed because I enjoyed killing. Still, it's hard for me to fully conjure up my reasonings at the time. I killed so many, that they started to blur together at some point. Though I remember Ramona and of course the conversation I had with you, Maxwell. When your group talked about escaping, those feelings of fear were brought to the forefront. I knew by that point the only way I'd be able to be seen as anything but a psycho was if I was the last one standing. I wanted to be right so bad, that my approach to the game was correct so that I wouldn't be seen as an idiot that lost her mind. I had to stop that escape attempt, though Zubin exploded before I had a chance to."
"I think it was Miranda's death that snapped me out of that clinical approach. I still blame myself for Miranda's death. I sent her alone to face your group alone Chuck. If I had planned things better, if I had been smarter, she'd still be alive. It was feeling that pain, that sleepless night, that made me realise just how much pain I was inflicting. When I killed, I never thought about how it would affect the people left alive. Just that they'd be angry at me. I felt my motivation drain, just like that. From then on, I just wanted to be alone. Have time to grieve. With the danger zones, I only realized when Maxwell arrived that I would've never been able to get that."
She felt the tears reform on her cheeks as she talked about Miranda. She wanted to win for Miranda, as well as herself. To show that Miranda wasn't stupid for backing her horse and working with her. That she didn't die pointlessly. But she did, as she could never shake the feeling that everyone she killed died pointlessly. If she had won, she could justify it to herself. But now, she was recognising that maybe she was wrong. At least to an extent.
Saachi found it hard to think of a way to escape killing. The killing was ingrained onto the island. It was a way of life here. Unless they pulled off a miracle and somehow escaped, there was nothing any of them could've done. Saachi never believed in miracles. Only in hard work and perserverence. That was the Nidal way, even if it rubbed others the wrong way. As she lay there, however, maybe she should've.
"I guess that leads here now. Now that I think about it, it was the first day that set me on this path. I now can't help but wonder what if that didn't happen to me. What if I woke up with one of you instead of Jay. Maybe I'd be on your side and a lot more people would be alive now. Or maybe someone else would've taken my place."
She lingered on that thought for a while, even as she felt herself sinking lower. It was a pretty thought. Probably not grounded in any reality, but a wishful one nonetheless. She wouldn't have had to dirty her hands or lose herself to the game. She could've been a good guy. Could've been seem as at least possibly redeemable.
Then again, she had a strong feeling that it was a dream and nothing more. Unobtainable and fanciful.
"In the end, I chose the path I did. While I wouldn't say it's an excuse, I'd like to hope that I could explain why I did it. I never killed for the sake of it. I was just motivated for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to be right, so right that I could rub it in faces like yours. But, in the end, I guess I was wrong."
She sighed to herself.
"I guess I have one more request, if you don't mind me being... a little selfish."
She looked at the pair.
"Kill me now. I.. don't want to be left with my emotions."
-
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:
"Okay."
To be honest, Saachi's attempts at underplaying her role hadn't really done much to deter Maxwell from shooting her. She had still killed Jason, she had still killed Ramona, she had still helped kill Lyndi, after all. The fact that she had attempted to kill Felicia, the fact that she still tried to insist that Lyndi's death wasn't her fault in addition to that was what had brought that desire over, what made Maxwell want to act on it. Maybe it was true that she was less willing in her part when the game began, maybe it was true that she was initially a victim of her own circumstances, but that didn't matter. What mattered was what she had done since. The insinuation that she was still good, the cliche of acting as if she could be on their side had things been different was what had brought his desire over the edge.
Honestly, if she wasn't as good as dead anyway, if it wasn't for the fact that he only had one hand to hold the gun with, he would have ended her, then and there.
"Let me respond, though."
He stepped forward with his right. The step wasn't large, by any means — he was fairly close to the pit and given the state of his other leg, he didn't want to unbalance himself — but it didn't matter. Now he was further above Saachi. Now it would be easier for her to see him.
"I'd told you something, back when we were both at the cabin. I'd told you that I would be the one who beat this game, that I would be the one who made it end it end the way I wanted it to."
He paused. Sighed.
"To be honest, I… was blustering then. I was trying to act as if I knew what was doing, as if I could properly stand against the other people in this game. Since then, I… haven't done much to act on what I've said."
Showing weakness was… unideal, but he supposed it barely even mattered at this point.
"But let me say this. Now that you're dead, now that there are people apparently searching for this island, let me say one thing."
He took another step closer. Smiled.
"I'm going to make sure that whoever's searching for this island gets here. I'm going to make sure the people who put us here don't win."
Showed a grin with however many teeth he had left.
"I'm going to make sure that everything you've done since the beginning of this game becomes pointless."
He turned, after that. Walked away. Made the choice to show Saachi mercy, even though he knew Chuck would be far kinder.
To be honest, Saachi's attempts at underplaying her role hadn't really done much to deter Maxwell from shooting her. She had still killed Jason, she had still killed Ramona, she had still helped kill Lyndi, after all. The fact that she had attempted to kill Felicia, the fact that she still tried to insist that Lyndi's death wasn't her fault in addition to that was what had brought that desire over, what made Maxwell want to act on it. Maybe it was true that she was less willing in her part when the game began, maybe it was true that she was initially a victim of her own circumstances, but that didn't matter. What mattered was what she had done since. The insinuation that she was still good, the cliche of acting as if she could be on their side had things been different was what had brought his desire over the edge.
Honestly, if she wasn't as good as dead anyway, if it wasn't for the fact that he only had one hand to hold the gun with, he would have ended her, then and there.
"Let me respond, though."
He stepped forward with his right. The step wasn't large, by any means — he was fairly close to the pit and given the state of his other leg, he didn't want to unbalance himself — but it didn't matter. Now he was further above Saachi. Now it would be easier for her to see him.
"I'd told you something, back when we were both at the cabin. I'd told you that I would be the one who beat this game, that I would be the one who made it end it end the way I wanted it to."
He paused. Sighed.
"To be honest, I… was blustering then. I was trying to act as if I knew what was doing, as if I could properly stand against the other people in this game. Since then, I… haven't done much to act on what I've said."
Showing weakness was… unideal, but he supposed it barely even mattered at this point.
"But let me say this. Now that you're dead, now that there are people apparently searching for this island, let me say one thing."
He took another step closer. Smiled.
"I'm going to make sure that whoever's searching for this island gets here. I'm going to make sure the people who put us here don't win."
Showed a grin with however many teeth he had left.
"I'm going to make sure that everything you've done since the beginning of this game becomes pointless."
He turned, after that. Walked away. Made the choice to show Saachi mercy, even though he knew Chuck would be far kinder.
-
General Goose
- Posts: 318
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 2:51 pm
There it was. Her story. Her logic. Exposed, with all its fallacies and shortcomings, all its self-made ironies, for the world to see. All the deaths that she felt guilt for, laid out in full. It was...interesting, Chuck had to concede. He had not witnessed someone else's whole story on the island. Hadn't even truly explored the stories of the group from the parish, of Kyran and Michael and Scarlett. So, to see how experiences, how fortune, could vary so wildly was interesting, because he hadn't seen such a story in full.
Well, except for tragically short cases, such as Lance...
But even then, he might have left things out. There might still be mysteries and unknown tribulations that Chuck would never know about.
And there was nothing left to add to that. He lifted up the crossbow. Aimed squarely at her chest. Always have to go for centre-mass. Fired.
Well, he tried.
What had become an easy routine for Chuck was suddenly much harder.
He lowered the crossbow. Sighed. He had to do this. Just...focus on the little act. The little adjustments of his fingers. Not the end result.
And with that, he lifted the crossbow back up, and sent a crossbow bolt flying straight into Saachi's chest.
Well, except for tragically short cases, such as Lance...
But even then, he might have left things out. There might still be mysteries and unknown tribulations that Chuck would never know about.
And there was nothing left to add to that. He lifted up the crossbow. Aimed squarely at her chest. Always have to go for centre-mass. Fired.
Well, he tried.
What had become an easy routine for Chuck was suddenly much harder.
He lowered the crossbow. Sighed. He had to do this. Just...focus on the little act. The little adjustments of his fingers. Not the end result.
And with that, he lifted the crossbow back up, and sent a crossbow bolt flying straight into Saachi's chest.
-
jimmydalad
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:38 pm
Saachi did her best to maintain a stiff upper lip in response to Maxwell's words. While she already felt like all the actions she took on the island were rendered pointless by her death, she couldn't help but feel hurt by how determined he was to undermine everything she had worked for. It wasn't that she didn't deserve it, but she still felt hurt by his actions.
She looked over at Chuck and noticed him aiming his shotgun at her. It looked like he was going to be the one to fulfil her wish after all. She closed her eyes and forced a smile, bracing herself for the inevitable bolt to strike her and end her life. That surely had to be better than suffocating in tar.
Saachi continued to wait as she heard Chuck sigh. Was he getting cold feet? Wasn't she one of the people he hated most on the island? She had thought the both of them would've relished the opportunity to kill her personally. While she could understand Maxwell letting her slowly die out of sheer spite, she had thought Chuck would be more than happy to be the one to end her.
As she was about to open her eyes to check, she felt something pierce her chest. She let out an audible gasp, but then quickly fell silent. At that point, the deed had been done.
It didn't take much longer for her body to sink beneath the tar, wiping away any evidence of her existence in the first place.
However, Saachi died with a smile on her face. She was able to tell her story and maybe, just maybe, she'd be remembered for more than just being a monster.
At the very least, she'd be able to see Miranda on the other side.
SAACHI NIDAL: DECEASED
She looked over at Chuck and noticed him aiming his shotgun at her. It looked like he was going to be the one to fulfil her wish after all. She closed her eyes and forced a smile, bracing herself for the inevitable bolt to strike her and end her life. That surely had to be better than suffocating in tar.
Saachi continued to wait as she heard Chuck sigh. Was he getting cold feet? Wasn't she one of the people he hated most on the island? She had thought the both of them would've relished the opportunity to kill her personally. While she could understand Maxwell letting her slowly die out of sheer spite, she had thought Chuck would be more than happy to be the one to end her.
As she was about to open her eyes to check, she felt something pierce her chest. She let out an audible gasp, but then quickly fell silent. At that point, the deed had been done.
It didn't take much longer for her body to sink beneath the tar, wiping away any evidence of her existence in the first place.
However, Saachi died with a smile on her face. She was able to tell her story and maybe, just maybe, she'd be remembered for more than just being a monster.
At the very least, she'd be able to see Miranda on the other side.
SAACHI NIDAL: DECEASED