Cecilia looked cautiously at her partner. He didn't look good. As the training had gone on, he had seemed more and more miserable with every repetition, with every blow he'd been asked to lay upon her and Otra Cecilia.
She didn't want to say what she said next. Because they could have stopped now. They could have stopped five, ten repetitions ago. She had almost all of the information she needed about her gift, and about what it could do to her and her body. But she'd kept him going anyway, because there was one last thing she had to know. And to find out, she needed to trust him. She needed to know that he would do what he was asked, without hesitation. And that it wouldn't hurt.
She'd been trying to work up the courage. Trying to force herself to say the words.
"Uno mas," she said, trying to sound as encouraging and sympathetic as she could. "Uno mas, and then we finish."
The dead boy's heart did not race. His stomach did not churn. No lump bobbed in his throat. But Cecilia's mind told her that they did. Told her that instead of doing what she was going to do next, that she needed to run away from here, far and fast and never looking back. Told her she could just keep sending him back until she felt better, just keep pushing, and then she'd know for certain that he could be trusted. Anything, to put it off.
But this was important. If this worked... then maybe they'd be spared from everything else that was to come. It was a slim chance. But she had to know.
Cecilia grabbed Mattie's hand, and pulled him along. Didn't say why. Because if she said it, then it'd be real. They walked briskly to the north, and within a minute or two, the fence was visible.
She walked up to the fence, and turned her back to him. Clenched her fists, and stood on her tiptoes, teetering slightly. He could kill her in an instant, with just a tiny shove. If he got greedy, if his gift malfunctioned, if anything went wrong... this was it.
"Mattie..."
Her voice was barely a whisper. She was silently thankful that the dead boy's tear ducts were bone dry.
"Go back... and push me over the fence."
Inertia
Open once Gundham posts, Day 3, shortly before announcements
Moderator: SOTF Supers Staff
"What?"
He blinked. A grim expression settled on his face.
"Oh."
When he'd first found out about his power, the first thought he'd had was that he could do anything. But, the things he chose out of anything were, they were things like wondering how much longer he could've kept that small talk with his crush going. Going back over the last chapter of coverage for his history test. Figuring out whether it was a Big Mac or Filet-o-Fish kinda day, whenever he went to McDonalds. It was, it was different choices and different timelines and different lives, but they were mundane lives, peaceful lives. Not this.
He didn't have a choice anyways though, right? Like, he knew what she was getting at. If there was ever a time to find out if there was another way, it was now. If they didn't have to fight their way out, or hope on hope for someone to come and rescue them, they would find out. It was now or never, and it was all on him.
He let out a deep exhale, gulped. Clenched his fists.
Just fucking get it over with.
He laid down.
↻
He was standing again, right behind Cecilia. His hands felt sweaty.
Momentarily, the thought occurred to him of this not being a flashback. It happened rarely, him getting the two mixed up, during times of high emotion. Like, when his closest, his only ally was asking him to put her life in his hands. Stuff like that.
The thought occurred, and for a few seconds, he wanted nothing more than to not be here at this place, at this moment.
But then he'd just be sent back here next flashback, right? Or the next one? And, if he didn't do it now, then he might not do it ever, and they might never find out, and they might never make it out of here, so.
Before he could chicken out of it, he did it. He pushed with as much force as he had, and the corpse toppled over the rope fence separating them from the outside world.
The body pushed itself off the ground, dusting itself off, and it grinned at Mattie, it beamed.
It worked. Cecilia could run outside, she could get some help, and-
A screeching sound attacked him from both sides.
He looked up, and the body collapsed on the ground, thick liquid, dark red bordering on brown oozing from its neck, its head all cut up.
He looked behind him, and a more vibrant red ran from Cecilia's neck. Her face wasn't even recognizable anymore.
And, there was this burning stinging all over him. He looked down at his hands.
Gashes marred all up and down his exposed arms, blood flowing.
His ring finger dangled loosely from his right hand, holding on with a single flap of skin.
■
He stumbled back from Cecilia, who was still standing in front of the precipice. Stumbled back, fell onto the ground, hyperventilating.
He held his hands in front of him, clean and dry and pristine, overtaken with tremors.
"I- it doesn't work," he told her. "You die, the boy dies, you both- you both die."
"You both die."
((Mattie Wilkinson continues in There We Will Be, Like An Old Enemy))
He blinked. A grim expression settled on his face.
"Oh."
When he'd first found out about his power, the first thought he'd had was that he could do anything. But, the things he chose out of anything were, they were things like wondering how much longer he could've kept that small talk with his crush going. Going back over the last chapter of coverage for his history test. Figuring out whether it was a Big Mac or Filet-o-Fish kinda day, whenever he went to McDonalds. It was, it was different choices and different timelines and different lives, but they were mundane lives, peaceful lives. Not this.
He didn't have a choice anyways though, right? Like, he knew what she was getting at. If there was ever a time to find out if there was another way, it was now. If they didn't have to fight their way out, or hope on hope for someone to come and rescue them, they would find out. It was now or never, and it was all on him.
He let out a deep exhale, gulped. Clenched his fists.
Just fucking get it over with.
He laid down.
↻
He was standing again, right behind Cecilia. His hands felt sweaty.
Momentarily, the thought occurred to him of this not being a flashback. It happened rarely, him getting the two mixed up, during times of high emotion. Like, when his closest, his only ally was asking him to put her life in his hands. Stuff like that.
The thought occurred, and for a few seconds, he wanted nothing more than to not be here at this place, at this moment.
But then he'd just be sent back here next flashback, right? Or the next one? And, if he didn't do it now, then he might not do it ever, and they might never find out, and they might never make it out of here, so.
Before he could chicken out of it, he did it. He pushed with as much force as he had, and the corpse toppled over the rope fence separating them from the outside world.
The body pushed itself off the ground, dusting itself off, and it grinned at Mattie, it beamed.
It worked. Cecilia could run outside, she could get some help, and-
A screeching sound attacked him from both sides.
He looked up, and the body collapsed on the ground, thick liquid, dark red bordering on brown oozing from its neck, its head all cut up.
He looked behind him, and a more vibrant red ran from Cecilia's neck. Her face wasn't even recognizable anymore.
And, there was this burning stinging all over him. He looked down at his hands.
Gashes marred all up and down his exposed arms, blood flowing.
His ring finger dangled loosely from his right hand, holding on with a single flap of skin.
■
He stumbled back from Cecilia, who was still standing in front of the precipice. Stumbled back, fell onto the ground, hyperventilating.
He held his hands in front of him, clean and dry and pristine, overtaken with tremors.
"I- it doesn't work," he told her. "You die, the boy dies, you both- you both die."
"You both die."
((Mattie Wilkinson continues in There We Will Be, Like An Old Enemy))
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
"You both die."
The words hit her like a truck. Not just the words, but the tremors, the urgency in how he said them, it all painted the scene perfectly. She died. The boy died. They both died horribly, gruesomely. Her throat was shredded apart and she was bleeding out in a reality that was only sixty seconds and one decision away.
Cecilia took a step back, away from the fence, nearly tripping as she tried to put some distance between herself and whatever nightmare Mattie had just witnessed.
And then she saw him. For the first time all day, she actually stopped and took a good hard look at Mattie, and she saw his hands shaking and she saw his chest heaving and she saw the lines on his face and the look in his eyes and the pallid color of his skin. Saw the cumulative weight of those realities, the burdens that he had borne on her behalf.
"Mattie..." She sank to her knees, and reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. And hesitated. She didn't want to touch him with these cold, dead fingers. Not after what he'd been through, what he'd taken upon himself. She didn't want to comfort him as a corpse. She wanted to be in her own body-
The words hit her like a truck. Not just the words, but the tremors, the urgency in how he said them, it all painted the scene perfectly. She died. The boy died. They both died horribly, gruesomely. Her throat was shredded apart and she was bleeding out in a reality that was only sixty seconds and one decision away.
Cecilia took a step back, away from the fence, nearly tripping as she tried to put some distance between herself and whatever nightmare Mattie had just witnessed.
And then she saw him. For the first time all day, she actually stopped and took a good hard look at Mattie, and she saw his hands shaking and she saw his chest heaving and she saw the lines on his face and the look in his eyes and the pallid color of his skin. Saw the cumulative weight of those realities, the burdens that he had borne on her behalf.
"Mattie..." She sank to her knees, and reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. And hesitated. She didn't want to touch him with these cold, dead fingers. Not after what he'd been through, what he'd taken upon himself. She didn't want to comfort him as a corpse. She wanted to be in her own body-
-And she was.
Cecilia opened her eyes, and sat up. She scrambled across the sand, and she grabbed Mattie's shoulders, pulled him close. Hugged him tight.
"Lo siento," she said quietly. "Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento."
This time, she actually was sorry. Deeply, truly, gravely sorry. Sorry that she had put him through all of this. Sorry that she had taken his gift and twisted it and mangled it and made it hurt him. Sorry for everything she'd forced him to do, and to see, and to live. Sorry that he'd been forced to watch her die.
But more than anything, she was sorry for what this meant for both of them. Even as she'd trained, and tested her gift, and tried to figure it out, she had always held out just a faint glimmer of hope that maybe, somehow, her gift would let her get across the fence. She had thought that they'd kill the corpse, and it'd keep on running, and then they'd just give up. Or that they'd kill her body, and she'd just stay stuck in the corpse. She hadn't, for some reason, counted on the simple, horrible solution that they'd just blow both collars at once. It was so simple. It was so obvious. And she'd been so drunk on hope, so desperate to believe in her potential that she hadn't even considered it. She felt like an idiot for not thinking about it. What kind of monster was she, forcing Mattie to indulge her in that stupid, futile attempt?
There was no hope, not any more. Escape wasn't an option. If they wanted to live, there was only one way out: to kill everyone else. And that meant, one way or another, that one of them wasn't going to be leaving here alive. One of them, but more likely both, was going to die in the next three days.
And for that, she was sorriest of all.
((Cecilia Moreno continued elsewhere))
Cecilia opened her eyes, and sat up. She scrambled across the sand, and she grabbed Mattie's shoulders, pulled him close. Hugged him tight.
"Lo siento," she said quietly. "Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento."
This time, she actually was sorry. Deeply, truly, gravely sorry. Sorry that she had put him through all of this. Sorry that she had taken his gift and twisted it and mangled it and made it hurt him. Sorry for everything she'd forced him to do, and to see, and to live. Sorry that he'd been forced to watch her die.
But more than anything, she was sorry for what this meant for both of them. Even as she'd trained, and tested her gift, and tried to figure it out, she had always held out just a faint glimmer of hope that maybe, somehow, her gift would let her get across the fence. She had thought that they'd kill the corpse, and it'd keep on running, and then they'd just give up. Or that they'd kill her body, and she'd just stay stuck in the corpse. She hadn't, for some reason, counted on the simple, horrible solution that they'd just blow both collars at once. It was so simple. It was so obvious. And she'd been so drunk on hope, so desperate to believe in her potential that she hadn't even considered it. She felt like an idiot for not thinking about it. What kind of monster was she, forcing Mattie to indulge her in that stupid, futile attempt?
There was no hope, not any more. Escape wasn't an option. If they wanted to live, there was only one way out: to kill everyone else. And that meant, one way or another, that one of them wasn't going to be leaving here alive. One of them, but more likely both, was going to die in the next three days.
And for that, she was sorriest of all.
((Cecilia Moreno continued elsewhere))