Pippa walked over to the site of the bullets' impact. The graveyard was definitely getting wrecked. Pippa wasn't superstitious, so she wasn't worried about being cursed. After all, she was unlucky enough to end up here, and unlucky enough to have been attacked and threatened. But she was lucky enough that fate kept giving her the options to survive and be above the situation. So maybe a stone was damaged in the process. She'd pay everything back in dividends back home.
Pippa glanced around and finally saw Virgil, laying against a headstone and clutching his side. He was hit. An injury like that meant he was surely on the way towards death. Pippa nodded towards Virgil and stepped towards him, keeping the gun aimed at him.
"You've done well," she told him. "Thank you for being respectful to me in our brief meeting. I'll always appreciate that."
Pippa stopped walking and stared at Virgil.
"Now, I think it's time we end this."
She paused, waiting to see what the boy had to say before she ended this.
Out of the Depths of Sorrow and of Sacrifice
PV3 Endgame
G014: Mayumi Tendou
Virgil's head swiveled to the side. Pippa was there, standing before him.
She was giving him another chance to speak. Strange, he... hadn't expected that. He wanted to plead for her to hold off, give him more time. Allow him to speak to Galahad. Allow him to die knowing for certain that he'd put his life into the best hands. That he hadn't made an awful mistake.
He didn't think that would work.
"I-I just please, remember what I said earlier. Follow through y-you..." his throat was dry. "Make sure you carry on our memories... all of us, even the ones you hated or didn't even know..."
Virgil's eyes darted around the graveyard. The feeling was inevitable end was now fully upon him. He'd hoped he'd be calmer than this. All the philosophy, all the retrospection... it wasn't as helpful as he'd hoped. In the end he was just afraid. A mere human, enslaved to his base survival instincts, exactly like everyone else buried here.
"And, ah, Pippa. Just... one request." his eyes turned to the ground. "In my desk at home, there are some papers. Writings. Can you take the ones in the green folder- er, the other ones you can just shred- and please, put them out there? Publish them, or just put them on the internet. So that they exist where people can read."
He swallowed and wipe his eyes.
"Please, just this one thing. And, ah, quickly if you can. If my Mum finds them first she might just toss them out. That's... that's the last thing I need to say."
She was giving him another chance to speak. Strange, he... hadn't expected that. He wanted to plead for her to hold off, give him more time. Allow him to speak to Galahad. Allow him to die knowing for certain that he'd put his life into the best hands. That he hadn't made an awful mistake.
He didn't think that would work.
"I-I just please, remember what I said earlier. Follow through y-you..." his throat was dry. "Make sure you carry on our memories... all of us, even the ones you hated or didn't even know..."
Virgil's eyes darted around the graveyard. The feeling was inevitable end was now fully upon him. He'd hoped he'd be calmer than this. All the philosophy, all the retrospection... it wasn't as helpful as he'd hoped. In the end he was just afraid. A mere human, enslaved to his base survival instincts, exactly like everyone else buried here.
"And, ah, Pippa. Just... one request." his eyes turned to the ground. "In my desk at home, there are some papers. Writings. Can you take the ones in the green folder- er, the other ones you can just shred- and please, put them out there? Publish them, or just put them on the internet. So that they exist where people can read."
He swallowed and wipe his eyes.
"Please, just this one thing. And, ah, quickly if you can. If my Mum finds them first she might just toss them out. That's... that's the last thing I need to say."
Virgil continued to sputter on, telling Pippa to remember to honor and cherish the memories of those who died here. Pippa nodded as he spoke. This was a tragedy, after all. If Pippa was to be the sole survivor, she'd be the face of the school, the town, of this international affair. She'd be obligated to carry on the memories of those who died. It was a burden she'd have to carry, mostly by governmental and contractual obligation, but she could do it. After all, this was why she would be the survivor: so she could continue.
Virgil also had a personal request, something about a mysterious green folder in a desk back home. She wasn't sure what could be in there. If it was too controversial, she'd be hesitant to put it out there. But if it was something like a fantasy novel he was working on, she could see to it that a publisher put it in every book store in the UK. A posthumous novel written by a victim of this madness. Pippa liked how that sounded. It was the sort of thing you named a scholarship after.
Pippa smiled at Virgil.
"Sure," she said. "I'll see to that request. Goodbye, Virgil. I won't forget you."
She raised the gun at Virgil, and pulled the trigger.
Virgil also had a personal request, something about a mysterious green folder in a desk back home. She wasn't sure what could be in there. If it was too controversial, she'd be hesitant to put it out there. But if it was something like a fantasy novel he was working on, she could see to it that a publisher put it in every book store in the UK. A posthumous novel written by a victim of this madness. Pippa liked how that sounded. It was the sort of thing you named a scholarship after.
Pippa smiled at Virgil.
"Sure," she said. "I'll see to that request. Goodbye, Virgil. I won't forget you."
She raised the gun at Virgil, and pulled the trigger.
G014: Mayumi Tendou
Virgil looked at Pippa. He saw her kind eyes, her serene smile.
He was scared.
The impact knocked him to the ground. He stared at the blue sky above him. He tried to go peacefully, he truly did, but he couldn't. The pain in his chest was overbearing. He could stand it. He reached futilely around him, clawed into the ground and felt the dirt beneath his fingers. He gasped and coughed. Try as he might to move on, he was still here. Still lying in this pain and regret. His punishment for failing, maybe?
Virgil eyes rolled around until they settled on some vague shapes in the distance. He couldn't tell what it was, but it kept getting closer. Death, maybe? He wished it would get here sooner.
He was scared.
The impact knocked him to the ground. He stared at the blue sky above him. He tried to go peacefully, he truly did, but he couldn't. The pain in his chest was overbearing. He could stand it. He reached futilely around him, clawed into the ground and felt the dirt beneath his fingers. He gasped and coughed. Try as he might to move on, he was still here. Still lying in this pain and regret. His punishment for failing, maybe?
Virgil eyes rolled around until they settled on some vague shapes in the distance. He couldn't tell what it was, but it kept getting closer. Death, maybe? He wished it would get here sooner.
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
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- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
"PIPPA!"
The graveyard had a sort of serenity that was wholly inappropriate for the situation and Fisher's best attempt at an authoritative yell did very little to break that. While he and Galahad had taken great care to sneak around and avoid being seen, the gunfire had drawn their notice rather easily. Taking a route to position themselves behind one of the larger tombstones and more importantly, to the exact rear of their two classmates; the duo had come upon the exchange at the very end, but been powerless to prevent Pippa from putting several shots into Virgil.
Powerless; except for one small detail.
Standing, he held his arm extended, the pistol pointed directly at Pippa's back. There was still a bit of distance between them, and so there was a lot of margin for error, but he hoped that he had the fortitude to actually do what he hadn't been able to before. To act before someone else lost their life, like Tiny had his. It hadn't been until Oliver had rushed at him that he'd — Fisher didn't want to think about that right now.
"S—stop right there. Put it down. Nobody else has to die."
Fisher wasn't sure he believed that anymore.
The graveyard had a sort of serenity that was wholly inappropriate for the situation and Fisher's best attempt at an authoritative yell did very little to break that. While he and Galahad had taken great care to sneak around and avoid being seen, the gunfire had drawn their notice rather easily. Taking a route to position themselves behind one of the larger tombstones and more importantly, to the exact rear of their two classmates; the duo had come upon the exchange at the very end, but been powerless to prevent Pippa from putting several shots into Virgil.
Powerless; except for one small detail.
Standing, he held his arm extended, the pistol pointed directly at Pippa's back. There was still a bit of distance between them, and so there was a lot of margin for error, but he hoped that he had the fortitude to actually do what he hadn't been able to before. To act before someone else lost their life, like Tiny had his. It hadn't been until Oliver had rushed at him that he'd — Fisher didn't want to think about that right now.
"S—stop right there. Put it down. Nobody else has to die."
Fisher wasn't sure he believed that anymore.
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Pippi
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Well, here they all were. Together at last. For what would almost certainly be the last time.
Galahad’s hands gripped tightly to the tombstone as he caught his breath, refusing to blink as he watched the space between Pippa’s back and the barrel of the gun. He’d felt his heart in his mouth as they’d scurried towards her and the crack of gunfire had rang out, so certain had he been that they’d been aimed their way, and even now, he couldn’t quite convince himself his lungs weren’t about to realise they’d been perforated and he would collapse to the floor in a bleeding useless heap.
But the reality, of course, was that neither he nor Fisher had been hit. They’d come right at the tail end of Pippa and Virgil’s confrontation. The outcome was right before their eyes; literally lying, on the grass, nestled next to a shattered headstone. Galahad could see Virgil’s body, even with Pippa standing in front of it. He hadn’t hated the guy, even when he’d been trying to take Pippa to the end; it was easy to distance yourself from the people someone had killed if you were already a world apart from them. There was even less animosity towards him now, now that his body was just… lying there. Motionless, until the U.S. soldiers came to bag him up.
Oh, but Pippa? Galahad thought that he could hate Pippa. He wasn’t good at that, the whole ‘hatred’ thing, his body hadn’t managed to react that way towards Victoria for killing Rue, or towards Kat for killing Rajni. But if he didn’t already hate Pippa, he had an inkling, a gut instinct, that he would as soon as she opened her mouth.
Hate her enough to want her to die? Maybe not. He wanted none of this still, wanted it to have never happened. Hate her enough that she had to die, to make sure she didn’t end up in the raffle for the last person standing?
Yeah. Yeah, he could do that.
He waited, breath bated, for Pippa’s response.
Galahad’s hands gripped tightly to the tombstone as he caught his breath, refusing to blink as he watched the space between Pippa’s back and the barrel of the gun. He’d felt his heart in his mouth as they’d scurried towards her and the crack of gunfire had rang out, so certain had he been that they’d been aimed their way, and even now, he couldn’t quite convince himself his lungs weren’t about to realise they’d been perforated and he would collapse to the floor in a bleeding useless heap.
But the reality, of course, was that neither he nor Fisher had been hit. They’d come right at the tail end of Pippa and Virgil’s confrontation. The outcome was right before their eyes; literally lying, on the grass, nestled next to a shattered headstone. Galahad could see Virgil’s body, even with Pippa standing in front of it. He hadn’t hated the guy, even when he’d been trying to take Pippa to the end; it was easy to distance yourself from the people someone had killed if you were already a world apart from them. There was even less animosity towards him now, now that his body was just… lying there. Motionless, until the U.S. soldiers came to bag him up.
Oh, but Pippa? Galahad thought that he could hate Pippa. He wasn’t good at that, the whole ‘hatred’ thing, his body hadn’t managed to react that way towards Victoria for killing Rue, or towards Kat for killing Rajni. But if he didn’t already hate Pippa, he had an inkling, a gut instinct, that he would as soon as she opened her mouth.
Hate her enough to want her to die? Maybe not. He wanted none of this still, wanted it to have never happened. Hate her enough that she had to die, to make sure she didn’t end up in the raffle for the last person standing?
Yeah. Yeah, he could do that.
He waited, breath bated, for Pippa’s response.
Pippa froze in place as someone called out to her. She knew she shouldn't have done so, but the suddenness got her. She remained in place and glanced behind her. Fisher. He wasn't dead. That shot didn't get him, and her bayonet stab didn't help either. Somehow, the boy was still kicking around. She should have stabbed him in the throat.
He was demanding that she put her gun down and that no one else would have to die. She glanced back down to Virgil. He was definitely on his way towards the afterlife. Pippa blinked, and then exhaled.
"Seems a little late for that," she remarked. "And quite a bit bold for you to make that demand when you have the prime seat."
Pippa turned herself towards Fisher, keeping the gun pointed to the ground. If Fisher of all people was going to be her end, then she had to at least make sure he didn't have the cowardice to kill her from behind. He tried that once in the last hour, so she wouldn't give him a second.
As she turned, she saw the other finalist. Galahad. Looks like he narrowly avoided her hail of gunfire as well. This was just great. Virgil was a dead man from the beginning. She should have focused on these boys first.
"If no one else is to die, and if it's just the three of us, then what? Petition the US government for our release? Lay down our arms and wait until they comply? Enlighten me, Fisher. What's the better option than trying to survive this game?"
He was demanding that she put her gun down and that no one else would have to die. She glanced back down to Virgil. He was definitely on his way towards the afterlife. Pippa blinked, and then exhaled.
"Seems a little late for that," she remarked. "And quite a bit bold for you to make that demand when you have the prime seat."
Pippa turned herself towards Fisher, keeping the gun pointed to the ground. If Fisher of all people was going to be her end, then she had to at least make sure he didn't have the cowardice to kill her from behind. He tried that once in the last hour, so she wouldn't give him a second.
As she turned, she saw the other finalist. Galahad. Looks like he narrowly avoided her hail of gunfire as well. This was just great. Virgil was a dead man from the beginning. She should have focused on these boys first.
"If no one else is to die, and if it's just the three of us, then what? Petition the US government for our release? Lay down our arms and wait until they comply? Enlighten me, Fisher. What's the better option than trying to survive this game?"
G014: Mayumi Tendou
The shapes grew larger and more distinct. The one with the cap rushed forward, drawing a gun. The blond one stayed back, cautious of the confrontation. It wasn't the end, but rather a new twist in the story.
(He might have laughed if not for the searing pain.)
Once again, everything he'd thought he'd known had been thrown on its head. And for one more time, he was proven to be an ignorant pawn of fate. Only, this time the realization was a relief. Perhaps there could be another way to end this. Perhaps he still had time.
But as Virgil shakily reached a hand out to Fisher and Galahad, it still seemed only a faraway dream. His hope turned to a familiar longing. He wanted to talk to them, pick their brains. Learn who they truly were as people, and tell them about himself in return. But his voice only came as a labored rasping and the slightest movement felt like a Sisyphean task. Powerless, as he'd been since entering this world. Others could be writers, directors, and actors. Virgil was only an observer, no matter how hard he had tried.
Resigned, Virgil lowered his hand to the ground. He shut his eyes.
He let himself fall into the abyss.
(He might have laughed if not for the searing pain.)
Once again, everything he'd thought he'd known had been thrown on its head. And for one more time, he was proven to be an ignorant pawn of fate. Only, this time the realization was a relief. Perhaps there could be another way to end this. Perhaps he still had time.
But as Virgil shakily reached a hand out to Fisher and Galahad, it still seemed only a faraway dream. His hope turned to a familiar longing. He wanted to talk to them, pick their brains. Learn who they truly were as people, and tell them about himself in return. But his voice only came as a labored rasping and the slightest movement felt like a Sisyphean task. Powerless, as he'd been since entering this world. Others could be writers, directors, and actors. Virgil was only an observer, no matter how hard he had tried.
Resigned, Virgil lowered his hand to the ground. He shut his eyes.
He let himself fall into the abyss.
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
His arm quivered under the weight of the pistol. She had put him on the spot, and for all of her pompous posturing, she wasn't entirely incorrect. That wasn't the point.
"You didn't even try and think about any other option, did you? All you did was wait for an excuse and then as soon as you had one, it was full speed ahead. What you did to — to Freya was inexcusable."
At the mention of his late comrade, he knew that Galahad would react. Pippa had turned to face them, which took the weapon away from Virgil and onto them. From his peripheral vision, Virgil looked about as much of a goner as one could be, bleeding and fading in and out of consciousness. Lovely. Another victim on Pippa's tally chart, another notch on the belt. The more he thought about it, the more he felt the fire within his chest start to rise. How many people needed to die, just because the Americans said they did?
"You're smart, Pippa; at least I thought you were. Someone like you could have thought a way out. Sure, they have cameras, they have people surrounding the resort, but there's always a way. Nothing's bloody impossible! I'm sure you didn't expect me to be standing here. That's proof enough, yeah?"
He still almost didn't believe it himself.
"Just put down your gun and we'll figure something out. We have to."
She wasn't going to put the weapon down. Fisher knew that, but it couldn't hurt to ask. Even if she did, there were debts that needed to be paid. After all that she had done, he knew in his heart what was going to come next, and between the fiery anger at her murderous rampage and his own terror at the predicament, he wanted to live in this moment forever.
They couldn't.
His safety was off.
"You didn't even try and think about any other option, did you? All you did was wait for an excuse and then as soon as you had one, it was full speed ahead. What you did to — to Freya was inexcusable."
At the mention of his late comrade, he knew that Galahad would react. Pippa had turned to face them, which took the weapon away from Virgil and onto them. From his peripheral vision, Virgil looked about as much of a goner as one could be, bleeding and fading in and out of consciousness. Lovely. Another victim on Pippa's tally chart, another notch on the belt. The more he thought about it, the more he felt the fire within his chest start to rise. How many people needed to die, just because the Americans said they did?
"You're smart, Pippa; at least I thought you were. Someone like you could have thought a way out. Sure, they have cameras, they have people surrounding the resort, but there's always a way. Nothing's bloody impossible! I'm sure you didn't expect me to be standing here. That's proof enough, yeah?"
He still almost didn't believe it himself.
"Just put down your gun and we'll figure something out. We have to."
She wasn't going to put the weapon down. Fisher knew that, but it couldn't hurt to ask. Even if she did, there were debts that needed to be paid. After all that she had done, he knew in his heart what was going to come next, and between the fiery anger at her murderous rampage and his own terror at the predicament, he wanted to live in this moment forever.
They couldn't.
His safety was off.
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Pippi
- Posts: 1121
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- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Fisher had to know he was asking for an impossibility.
Galahad caught a brief glance of his face under the moonlight, looking away from Pippa for only a split-second, not wanting to let her out of his sight for a moment. He couldn’t gauge the expression on his face, not in this low light, and not with that short a glimpse. He had to know, though, had to be aware that there wasn’t any way out other than the one route they’d been shown. They’d all seen, or at least heard, the helicopters surrounding the town. They all knew how tight a ship the Americans were running.
And, once more, he knew where this route would lead, to two people facing an escape pod with only room for one. They would have to cross that bridge when they came to it. There was something far more urgent, someone far more dangerous to deal with.
His fingernails were digging into the moss on the tombstone; they were already dirty and chipped, and he could feel them press into the stone, threatening to crack further, threatening to shatter the entire thing beneath his grip. He stood up straight, all at once, and spoke without thinking, his voice carrying across the graveyard, even as it trembled, and even as he shook.
“Tell… Tell me what happened with Freya.”
Would Pippa’s answer change what would happen here?
“Tell me why you killed her!”
No. It wouldn’t. But he had to hear it, straight from the horse’s mouth.
Galahad caught a brief glance of his face under the moonlight, looking away from Pippa for only a split-second, not wanting to let her out of his sight for a moment. He couldn’t gauge the expression on his face, not in this low light, and not with that short a glimpse. He had to know, though, had to be aware that there wasn’t any way out other than the one route they’d been shown. They’d all seen, or at least heard, the helicopters surrounding the town. They all knew how tight a ship the Americans were running.
And, once more, he knew where this route would lead, to two people facing an escape pod with only room for one. They would have to cross that bridge when they came to it. There was something far more urgent, someone far more dangerous to deal with.
His fingernails were digging into the moss on the tombstone; they were already dirty and chipped, and he could feel them press into the stone, threatening to crack further, threatening to shatter the entire thing beneath his grip. He stood up straight, all at once, and spoke without thinking, his voice carrying across the graveyard, even as it trembled, and even as he shook.
“Tell… Tell me what happened with Freya.”
Would Pippa’s answer change what would happen here?
“Tell me why you killed her!”
No. It wouldn’t. But he had to hear it, straight from the horse’s mouth.
Fisher's statement was laughable to Pippa. Who was he to say she had other options? She knew what her options were. She knew the limits of what they were once she became a prisoner of war and had to weigh her life against those she went to school with. Fisher was acting like her choices were wrong, but she was here, with a 1 in 3 chance of leaving, of proving she was better than the Americans thought she was, of proving that she was destined for greatness, of proving she was better than Bellington.
Galahad had a more direct question for Pippa. He wanted to know about Freya. Everything had to come back to that cow, didn't it?
"Well, since I'm guessing Fisher didn't tell you, I can," Pippa said.
Pippa slowly stepped away from Virgil's body. She knew they still had weapons trained on her, so she kept her gun by her side and faced Galahad.
"We had a disagreement. Freya wanted to save someone even though it would endanger myself, Fisher, and Freya in the process. I refrained out of caution and to prevent the situation from becoming more aggravated. I tried to explain this to Freya, but she refused to listen and assaulted me."
Pippa flashed her teeth at Galahad, pointing to where her missing tooth was.
"I knew then that she was unstable. Freya was set in her beliefs and would endanger those around her. Any slight disagreement with her frigid beliefs would result in violence. So I took her out. It helped me, it helped Fisher, and it helped everyone else still alive at that point."
"I know you refuse to believe it, but when she attacked me, I knew that she was one bad event away from turning. Who's to say she wouldn't have killed more people to get to this point? I saw her potential for murder, and I stopped it before it dragged me and Fisher down with her."
Pippa chuckled and glared at Galahad.
"You know, you all assume the worst of me. You hate me for taking lives, for making these choices. But these people chose to attack me. Freya, Kian, Michelle, they all wanted me dead and made it clear it was me or them. I'm trying to survive this like all of you. That's the choice I made. Just like you chose to kill absolutely no one to get to this point, which has clearly worked for you, just like killing direct threats to my life has worked for me."
Pippa turned to Fisher.
"Even you must have rationalized killing Oliver. Tell me, did Oliver attack you first? Was it him or you in that moment?"
Galahad had a more direct question for Pippa. He wanted to know about Freya. Everything had to come back to that cow, didn't it?
"Well, since I'm guessing Fisher didn't tell you, I can," Pippa said.
Pippa slowly stepped away from Virgil's body. She knew they still had weapons trained on her, so she kept her gun by her side and faced Galahad.
"We had a disagreement. Freya wanted to save someone even though it would endanger myself, Fisher, and Freya in the process. I refrained out of caution and to prevent the situation from becoming more aggravated. I tried to explain this to Freya, but she refused to listen and assaulted me."
Pippa flashed her teeth at Galahad, pointing to where her missing tooth was.
"I knew then that she was unstable. Freya was set in her beliefs and would endanger those around her. Any slight disagreement with her frigid beliefs would result in violence. So I took her out. It helped me, it helped Fisher, and it helped everyone else still alive at that point."
"I know you refuse to believe it, but when she attacked me, I knew that she was one bad event away from turning. Who's to say she wouldn't have killed more people to get to this point? I saw her potential for murder, and I stopped it before it dragged me and Fisher down with her."
Pippa chuckled and glared at Galahad.
"You know, you all assume the worst of me. You hate me for taking lives, for making these choices. But these people chose to attack me. Freya, Kian, Michelle, they all wanted me dead and made it clear it was me or them. I'm trying to survive this like all of you. That's the choice I made. Just like you chose to kill absolutely no one to get to this point, which has clearly worked for you, just like killing direct threats to my life has worked for me."
Pippa turned to Fisher.
"Even you must have rationalized killing Oliver. Tell me, did Oliver attack you first? Was it him or you in that moment?"
G014: Mayumi Tendou
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
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- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
"Oh, come on, Pippa. That's bullshit and you know it!"
The moment that Pippa opened her mouth to laughably respond to their question, his uncertainty was replaced by annoyance. It was just like her to try and explain everything away, as though she were the innocent victim in all of it. Fisher's shoulders fell in frustration as she sugarcoated the circumstances behind Freya's death to an obviously shaken Galahad. The boy had wanted to understand how and why his best friend had died, and this explanation was full of happenstance and half-truths. Her pointed question to him only served as a second stab — the bayonet on her rifle explaining the bruise that he was likely to have on his stomach were he alive long enough for his body to let it.
There were so many half-truths floating about now, he didn't even know where to begin. His frustration was boiling over, coated in shame at his role in Oliver's death.
His role; that was rich. Fisher had pulled the trigger, he was a killer all the same as Freya was. It was a fact that he'd been dancing around for hours now. No matter the context of the situation, no matter how you wanted to assign it — she was a murderer, he hadn't had a choice — Oliver was still dead and that was on him. Mitigating circumstances be damned.
Reconciling that only made him more upset. At the Americans, at Pippa — at all of them.
"You 'knew' she was unstable? The only thing that was unstable was that rickety old pier and if you'd taken even a single second to at least try and help, maybe Lena doesn't die there. Freya was thinking with a very clear mind; maybe the only one of us who was and," Fisher's lip curled upwards; his expression was sour, "look where that got her."
His frustration only made his hand tremble more, the pistol feeling as unfamiliar in his hand as it had when he'd helplessly watched Tiny die. Pippa had brought an elephant to the party and it was taking up space in his mind. It was time to look to it.
"Oliver," he inhaled, "murdered Tiny right in front of me and took me hostage. His grand plan was to drag me to the end at gunpoint and get the easy win."
What he was about to say went against everything that he felt inside, everything that he'd been telling himself. Pippa had a gun pointed his way and if he showed any more weakness, she would pounce on it like she had back at school, like she had in this game. If she at least believed that he was capable of the things he could barely comprehend, perhaps it would give him at least some advantage — he'd already squandered his preparedness.
Hopefully Galahad wouldn't think he was standing with two monsters; maybe he would understand.
"Look where that got him."
The moment that Pippa opened her mouth to laughably respond to their question, his uncertainty was replaced by annoyance. It was just like her to try and explain everything away, as though she were the innocent victim in all of it. Fisher's shoulders fell in frustration as she sugarcoated the circumstances behind Freya's death to an obviously shaken Galahad. The boy had wanted to understand how and why his best friend had died, and this explanation was full of happenstance and half-truths. Her pointed question to him only served as a second stab — the bayonet on her rifle explaining the bruise that he was likely to have on his stomach were he alive long enough for his body to let it.
There were so many half-truths floating about now, he didn't even know where to begin. His frustration was boiling over, coated in shame at his role in Oliver's death.
His role; that was rich. Fisher had pulled the trigger, he was a killer all the same as Freya was. It was a fact that he'd been dancing around for hours now. No matter the context of the situation, no matter how you wanted to assign it — she was a murderer, he hadn't had a choice — Oliver was still dead and that was on him. Mitigating circumstances be damned.
Reconciling that only made him more upset. At the Americans, at Pippa — at all of them.
"You 'knew' she was unstable? The only thing that was unstable was that rickety old pier and if you'd taken even a single second to at least try and help, maybe Lena doesn't die there. Freya was thinking with a very clear mind; maybe the only one of us who was and," Fisher's lip curled upwards; his expression was sour, "look where that got her."
His frustration only made his hand tremble more, the pistol feeling as unfamiliar in his hand as it had when he'd helplessly watched Tiny die. Pippa had brought an elephant to the party and it was taking up space in his mind. It was time to look to it.
"Oliver," he inhaled, "murdered Tiny right in front of me and took me hostage. His grand plan was to drag me to the end at gunpoint and get the easy win."
What he was about to say went against everything that he felt inside, everything that he'd been telling himself. Pippa had a gun pointed his way and if he showed any more weakness, she would pounce on it like she had back at school, like she had in this game. If she at least believed that he was capable of the things he could barely comprehend, perhaps it would give him at least some advantage — he'd already squandered his preparedness.
Hopefully Galahad wouldn't think he was standing with two monsters; maybe he would understand.
"Look where that got him."
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Pippi
- Posts: 1121
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
“You…”
Galahad looked, wide-eyed, from Pippa to Fisher, Pippa to Fisher, back and forth, back and forth.
“You are…”
He breathed heavy, taking in everything Pippa and Fisher had just said, comparing their versions of events with each other, comparing what they’d both said about Freya and her actions.
“You are so full of shit.”
Comparing, as he glared daggers directly at Pippa, what they’d said with everything he knew about Freya.
Who did Pippa think she was talking to? Did she not realise how close he was with Freya? Or did she think that his anger, his fear, all of his heightened emotions at running into his best friend’s killer would stop him from thinking straight and fill him with too much doubt to properly comprehend what he was dealing with?
‘Freya was unstable’. ‘Freya assaulted me’. Bullshit. Nothing but a fountain of lies. Freya got angry, yes, Freya had a temper, sure, Freya was difficult to deal with, fine. But aggravated assault? Never. Never ever. Anything that got Freya mad, there was always a reason for.
And from what both Pippa and Fisher said, that Pippa had stopped her from trying to save somebody, that sounded like a justifiable reason to him.
He breathed in sharply through his nose, feeling a sudden sharp pain in his mouth as he bit his tongue in his heightened anger. The way Pippa was trying to shrug this all off. The way she was trying to justify the three people she’d killed, while simultaneously painting Freya and Fisher as the bad guys? Her killing Freya because she might have turned killer was fine, her killing three other people was okay, Fisher killing someone who was also a triple killer was bad?
“Fisher. Fisher.”
Galahad hissed urgently at the other boy, still facing Pippa, not daring to let her leave his line of sight.
“She’s not gonna back down, Fisher, she’s totally set in her ways, she…”
His eyes flashed to the gun in Fisher’s hands, his heart in his throat.
“She won’t… let us… figure another way out…”
Galahad looked, wide-eyed, from Pippa to Fisher, Pippa to Fisher, back and forth, back and forth.
“You are…”
He breathed heavy, taking in everything Pippa and Fisher had just said, comparing their versions of events with each other, comparing what they’d both said about Freya and her actions.
“You are so full of shit.”
Comparing, as he glared daggers directly at Pippa, what they’d said with everything he knew about Freya.
Who did Pippa think she was talking to? Did she not realise how close he was with Freya? Or did she think that his anger, his fear, all of his heightened emotions at running into his best friend’s killer would stop him from thinking straight and fill him with too much doubt to properly comprehend what he was dealing with?
‘Freya was unstable’. ‘Freya assaulted me’. Bullshit. Nothing but a fountain of lies. Freya got angry, yes, Freya had a temper, sure, Freya was difficult to deal with, fine. But aggravated assault? Never. Never ever. Anything that got Freya mad, there was always a reason for.
And from what both Pippa and Fisher said, that Pippa had stopped her from trying to save somebody, that sounded like a justifiable reason to him.
He breathed in sharply through his nose, feeling a sudden sharp pain in his mouth as he bit his tongue in his heightened anger. The way Pippa was trying to shrug this all off. The way she was trying to justify the three people she’d killed, while simultaneously painting Freya and Fisher as the bad guys? Her killing Freya because she might have turned killer was fine, her killing three other people was okay, Fisher killing someone who was also a triple killer was bad?
“Fisher. Fisher.”
Galahad hissed urgently at the other boy, still facing Pippa, not daring to let her leave his line of sight.
“She’s not gonna back down, Fisher, she’s totally set in her ways, she…”
His eyes flashed to the gun in Fisher’s hands, his heart in his throat.
“She won’t… let us… figure another way out…”
Pippa had to wonder why they asked for her point of view if they were just going to ignore it. As she saw it, she was justified in her actions, and they weren't going to accept it no matter what. She could explain why she felt threatened by Freya, why she felt she had to do it, and they still couldn't understand why she didn't want to add more weight to a collapsing dock no matter how blatantly obvious the stupidity of it was. There was no getting them to calm down. They wanted her dead, and they weren't going to understand her.
Not like she really expected much to come out of it. If they weren't satisfied by her reasonable explanation, then that was on them. It was just the three of them now, and it wasn't like she could expect either of them to join her and turn on the other.
Pippa sighed and rolled her shoulders, keeping the gun pointed to the ground.
"Alright. You don't accept my reasons," she said. "I accept that. Now then, are you going to kill me?"
Pippa turned slowly to face Fisher, her gaze meeting his.
"You can end it in one pull of the trigger. You probably would be justified to do so. You'd probably feel justified. So, why don't you?"
Not like she really expected much to come out of it. If they weren't satisfied by her reasonable explanation, then that was on them. It was just the three of them now, and it wasn't like she could expect either of them to join her and turn on the other.
Pippa sighed and rolled her shoulders, keeping the gun pointed to the ground.
"Alright. You don't accept my reasons," she said. "I accept that. Now then, are you going to kill me?"
Pippa turned slowly to face Fisher, her gaze meeting his.
"You can end it in one pull of the trigger. You probably would be justified to do so. You'd probably feel justified. So, why don't you?"
G014: Mayumi Tendou
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Cactus
- Posts: 295
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:25 pm
- Location: Toronto, Canada
- Team Affiliation: Malcolm's Mariners
She's set in her ways.
You can end it in one pull of the trigger.
They were both correct, of course.
So why didn't he press the trigger and send death flying a few feet away towards the one person whose actions had complicated his life more than any of his classmates had over the last few days? There was only one way out of this for the lot of them, his own fading hope of a collaboration notwithstanding. The things that Pippa had done, the vengeance that was demanded by the people her victims had left behind? It wouldn't allow for a happy ending.
Not this time.
Fisher's hand quivered on the pistol and his finger moved to the trigger. The weapon's weight felt heavier than anything he'd ever lifted before and he fought a combination of his own fatigue and his weariness to keep it pointed squarely at the uppity banshee standing before him. This shouldn't have been hard, after all of it. This should have been easy; besides he had already done this once, hadn't he?
"Shut up," he finally mustered, his voice sounding far less certain than it had been. The pit in the bottom of his stomach opened up even wider. Had Galahad been the one wielding the gun, Fisher knew that it would have already happened. Yet his own reticence to fire reared itself once more. He wasn't a murderer.
Fisher Darden was a killer, yes. He'd accepted that. Oliver had left him no choice.
But he was no murderer.
Her gun was pointed at the ground, she hadn't fired. She seemed so damn comfortable in her reasoning, so sure of herself. It was infuriating. Pippa met his glare with certainty in her eyes. Were he not already so upset with everyone and everything — himself most of all — he might have screamed out loud.
"Drop your gun," he whispered, knowing against all hope that she wouldn't.
They had to stop her; he'd said as much. But now that push came to shove, what did that actually mean? He'd known the answer then, but he hadn't anticipated that he'd actually have the chance to put theory into practice. Galahad was animated behind him; he didn't need to look at the boy to know how he felt.
Fisher knew what he had to do. He'd known it back at the beach and he knew it now.
He hesitated.
You can end it in one pull of the trigger.
They were both correct, of course.
So why didn't he press the trigger and send death flying a few feet away towards the one person whose actions had complicated his life more than any of his classmates had over the last few days? There was only one way out of this for the lot of them, his own fading hope of a collaboration notwithstanding. The things that Pippa had done, the vengeance that was demanded by the people her victims had left behind? It wouldn't allow for a happy ending.
Not this time.
Fisher's hand quivered on the pistol and his finger moved to the trigger. The weapon's weight felt heavier than anything he'd ever lifted before and he fought a combination of his own fatigue and his weariness to keep it pointed squarely at the uppity banshee standing before him. This shouldn't have been hard, after all of it. This should have been easy; besides he had already done this once, hadn't he?
"Shut up," he finally mustered, his voice sounding far less certain than it had been. The pit in the bottom of his stomach opened up even wider. Had Galahad been the one wielding the gun, Fisher knew that it would have already happened. Yet his own reticence to fire reared itself once more. He wasn't a murderer.
Fisher Darden was a killer, yes. He'd accepted that. Oliver had left him no choice.
But he was no murderer.
Her gun was pointed at the ground, she hadn't fired. She seemed so damn comfortable in her reasoning, so sure of herself. It was infuriating. Pippa met his glare with certainty in her eyes. Were he not already so upset with everyone and everything — himself most of all — he might have screamed out loud.
"Drop your gun," he whispered, knowing against all hope that she wouldn't.
They had to stop her; he'd said as much. But now that push came to shove, what did that actually mean? He'd known the answer then, but he hadn't anticipated that he'd actually have the chance to put theory into practice. Galahad was animated behind him; he didn't need to look at the boy to know how he felt.
Fisher knew what he had to do. He'd known it back at the beach and he knew it now.
He hesitated.