Her glasses were askew, she adjusted them and left a red thumbprint on the lens.
He was panicking, crying, halfway between scooping her up and having a total breakdown.
Fucking shit. Fuck.
She shook her head, grit her teeth.
"How many times we watched this show?"
Stokes could feel the warmth pooling beneath her. God. She'd edited this shit enough times. She'd seen enough gunshot wounds. Clean through the stomach and out the other side. She didn't know how she wasn't screaming, and then she remembered that she'd seen that too. People going calm right at the end. Shrugging off the pain they had to have been feeling cause it hardly mattered any more.
"There's a window. Aright? Over the oven. It's gonna be a drop. Better than nothing.
"I can't make that, Junj. Even if I did I-"
Talking too much cut to the point.
"You need to get gone. Now. Go."
Feeble Cursed One!
“No, I’m not going! We’re getting you out of here!”
He was shouting at full volume, regardless of the people on the other side of the wall who wanted him dead. He couldn’t contain himself even if h%e tried. But the yelling sent a shot of pain through his shoulder, and that hurt enough to get him to shut up. He gritted his teeth in awful frustration, helpless to do anything but refusing to accept it.
“Fuck, Stokes, I’ve still got a gun, and a knife! I can fuck them up!”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out the tiny pistol with one measly bullet. Only days ago he had stolen it from Cristo after killing him in cold blood, and now it was the only thing that he could think might save his best friend’s life. It didn’t matter if the enemies outnumbered the ammo four to one, he would just pull off something fucking badass! He’d watched this show religiously; it didn’t matter how many times he’d seen this exact scene play out. He knew what to do to win, to get the outcome he wanted. He was born to be in this show, and he wasn’t about to lose Stokes to it!
“We can take them! We can get out of here! We were- we are going to fucking win this thing!”
He was shouting at full volume, regardless of the people on the other side of the wall who wanted him dead. He couldn’t contain himself even if h%e tried. But the yelling sent a shot of pain through his shoulder, and that hurt enough to get him to shut up. He gritted his teeth in awful frustration, helpless to do anything but refusing to accept it.
“Fuck, Stokes, I’ve still got a gun, and a knife! I can fuck them up!”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out the tiny pistol with one measly bullet. Only days ago he had stolen it from Cristo after killing him in cold blood, and now it was the only thing that he could think might save his best friend’s life. It didn’t matter if the enemies outnumbered the ammo four to one, he would just pull off something fucking badass! He’d watched this show religiously; it didn’t matter how many times he’d seen this exact scene play out. He knew what to do to win, to get the outcome he wanted. He was born to be in this show, and he wasn’t about to lose Stokes to it!
“We can take them! We can get out of here! We were- we are going to fucking win this thing!”
"Quit being a selfish asshole!
"it's not about what you want, okay?
"you can't fucking, yell until this goes your way.
"Listen. for once, fucking listen.
"I'm gonna die. you only get to pick whether you die too.
"and I am not fucking letting you die cause you're stubborn.
"Play this how it is. Not how you want it to be."
"it's not about what you want, okay?
"you can't fucking, yell until this goes your way.
"Listen. for once, fucking listen.
"I'm gonna die. you only get to pick whether you die too.
"and I am not fucking letting you die cause you're stubborn.
"Play this how it is. Not how you want it to be."
“Fuck, Stokes! FUCK!”
It didn’t matter if she made sense or started spewing delirious bullshit. Junji didn’t want to listen to her talk like this. He didn’t want to see her like this. He wanted to be back before SOTF-TV, back when his life was a boring slog where Stokes wasn’t bleeding to death on this kitchen floor, when they were making fun of other kids bleeding to death instead.
He wanted her to not die like this, not die right in front of him when there was nothing he could do to stop it, and nothing he could do to avenge her because all he had was a pissant pea shooter and a little bitch knife, and the people outside outnumbered him and had machine guns, and his arm felt like it was going to drop off any minute.
He wanted to punch her in the face, to get her to stop saying things he hated hearing. He had never done anything like that, and he never could to Stokes, but he wanted to more than anything.
But it didn’t matter what he wanted. This was his reality, and it was the end of his time with Stokes.
He kneeled down, even though it hurt so much. He wrapped her in a hug, even though he knew it was probably hurting her too. He didn’t care. He’d never hugged her before, and he would never get another chance to. He wasn’t sure the last time he’d hugged anyone. That didn’t matter now. Stokes blood got on his front, but he couldn’t see it. His big hands wrapped around her head, he pressed himself into her. It was the last time.
“I fucking hate you, Stokes. I love you, but I hate you for making me feel like this, you fucking cunt. Fuck, why’d you have to die on me? I’m sorry, fuck.”
He squeezed one last time, before he pulled himself away. He moved to the window, everything painful. By some mercy it was big enough that he could fit through, even as large as he was, but getting himself up on the counter was a graceless effort. He avoided looking at Stokes the whole time.
He considered looking back at her once more. He wanted to. But he couldn’t, so he didn’t.
He leapt.
It didn’t matter if she made sense or started spewing delirious bullshit. Junji didn’t want to listen to her talk like this. He didn’t want to see her like this. He wanted to be back before SOTF-TV, back when his life was a boring slog where Stokes wasn’t bleeding to death on this kitchen floor, when they were making fun of other kids bleeding to death instead.
He wanted her to not die like this, not die right in front of him when there was nothing he could do to stop it, and nothing he could do to avenge her because all he had was a pissant pea shooter and a little bitch knife, and the people outside outnumbered him and had machine guns, and his arm felt like it was going to drop off any minute.
He wanted to punch her in the face, to get her to stop saying things he hated hearing. He had never done anything like that, and he never could to Stokes, but he wanted to more than anything.
But it didn’t matter what he wanted. This was his reality, and it was the end of his time with Stokes.
He kneeled down, even though it hurt so much. He wrapped her in a hug, even though he knew it was probably hurting her too. He didn’t care. He’d never hugged her before, and he would never get another chance to. He wasn’t sure the last time he’d hugged anyone. That didn’t matter now. Stokes blood got on his front, but he couldn’t see it. His big hands wrapped around her head, he pressed himself into her. It was the last time.
“I fucking hate you, Stokes. I love you, but I hate you for making me feel like this, you fucking cunt. Fuck, why’d you have to die on me? I’m sorry, fuck.”
He squeezed one last time, before he pulled himself away. He moved to the window, everything painful. By some mercy it was big enough that he could fit through, even as large as he was, but getting himself up on the counter was a graceless effort. He avoided looking at Stokes the whole time.
He considered looking back at her once more. He wanted to. But he couldn’t, so he didn’t.
He leapt.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
Halfway to the doorway, Fisk stopped and twirled back into moonwalking, lip syncing to the grimes tune outside, pumping his free hand while the hook dragged along the ground. He detoured closer to the cameras dancing with his face and hands for tiktok worthy replays. He winked at the camera, turned around, and slapped his ass as he returned to beelining to the kitchen.
As he entered, he saw Junji somehow fit through the window and dip. It was disappointing but not unexpected.
“Wow Stokes. Some loyal friends you got.” He laughed, leisurely walking towards her, hook on his shoulder.
Clank.
Clank.
Halfway to the doorway, Fisk stopped and twirled back into moonwalking, lip syncing to the grimes tune outside, pumping his free hand while the hook dragged along the ground. He detoured closer to the cameras dancing with his face and hands for tiktok worthy replays. He winked at the camera, turned around, and slapped his ass as he returned to beelining to the kitchen.
As he entered, he saw Junji somehow fit through the window and dip. It was disappointing but not unexpected.
“Wow Stokes. Some loyal friends you got.” He laughed, leisurely walking towards her, hook on his shoulder.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Was weird, trying to put a lifetime's worth of feeling into one hug.
don't you die
and then also
you're a dick
and
but you're the best
along with
but I should have called you out
except
doesn't matter, just make something of it
and
I'm scared
Stokes let him go before she lost her nerve, and didn't watch him out, in case she begged him to stay.
That let her see Fisk enter the room.
The pain crashed in on her.
"Think there's a rodeo somewhere missing its clown."
don't you die
and then also
you're a dick
and
but you're the best
along with
but I should have called you out
except
doesn't matter, just make something of it
and
I'm scared
Stokes let him go before she lost her nerve, and didn't watch him out, in case she begged him to stay.
That let her see Fisk enter the room.
The pain crashed in on her.
"Think there's a rodeo somewhere missing its clown."
Fisk stepped closer. His lips pursed, he nodded almost in agreement. Was a shame he couldn’t kill Junji himself here. Hell, he’d settle for Stokes too, but...
“Nah. I think I’m right where I belong.”
*THWACK*
“Let’s go outside.”
She has a bigger purpose to serve.
“Nah. I think I’m right where I belong.”
*THWACK*
“Let’s go outside.”
She has a bigger purpose to serve.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Stokes' head snapped to the side. She attempted another quip, but it turned to blood halfway out of her mouth, splattering onto the tile.
haha...hah...fuck.
Nothing left but to make it a show. The ones at home. This one here.
There was a point.
don't really get what that Stokely chick was doing. her last scene was okay at least.
How fast was Junji? How surrounded was the boat?
She pushed herself up the fridge, couple inches. She made a noise. A choked squeak. What was left of her stomach was on fire.
Stokes slipped to the side, catching herself on both hands, breathing wet and heavy.
haha...hah...fuck.
Nothing left but to make it a show. The ones at home. This one here.
There was a point.
don't really get what that Stokely chick was doing. her last scene was okay at least.
How fast was Junji? How surrounded was the boat?
She pushed herself up the fridge, couple inches. She made a noise. A choked squeak. What was left of her stomach was on fire.
Stokes slipped to the side, catching herself on both hands, breathing wet and heavy.
Fisk walked after Stokes. He didn’t have to rush, despite her refusal to go down. She wasn’t going anywhere in that state. At least if the others are gone, she’s here. Worked out kinda perfect to be honest.
She ran this place, and she was going to die here. Like a captain with the ship.
He rested the cane under his arm as he unzipped and rifled through his bag, pulling out a length of rope. Wasn’t a message without an example, no?
He walked behind Stokes. “Come on, it’s almost over now. You’re doing nothing but making a fool of yourself.” Either she was gonna fall soon, or Fisk will trip her. The outcome would be the same regardless.
He started dragging the hook for ominous points.
She ran this place, and she was going to die here. Like a captain with the ship.
He rested the cane under his arm as he unzipped and rifled through his bag, pulling out a length of rope. Wasn’t a message without an example, no?
He walked behind Stokes. “Come on, it’s almost over now. You’re doing nothing but making a fool of yourself.” Either she was gonna fall soon, or Fisk will trip her. The outcome would be the same regardless.
He started dragging the hook for ominous points.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
She got upright on a countertop, hauling herself up like it was scaling a mountain.
Fisk took a casual pace in following, trying to make her sweat, like she wasn't bleeding out. Maybe, probably, it didn't matter to him. None of what he'd done suggested much of a fuck given.
Stokes stumbled into the wall next to the door with a thump.
"Guh—guess we're a—agh pair."
Fisk took a casual pace in following, trying to make her sweat, like she wasn't bleeding out. Maybe, probably, it didn't matter to him. None of what he'd done suggested much of a fuck given.
Stokes stumbled into the wall next to the door with a thump.
"Guh—guess we're a—agh pair."
"Maybe."
He nodded as he stepped closer.
"...Maybe."
He stopped, watching Stokes hanging on for dear life. "You're defiant in the face of a predetermined outcome. I can relate." He strode closer, raising the hook onto his shoulder. "What I can't relate to is how we treat these circumstances..."
He stopped again. Side eyed the camera.
"You don't take this seriously. Twoish hours ago, did you see yourself in this position when I walked in? I was honest with you. I told you who I was, what I was looking for, and what we were capable of. You blew me off. Smart ones would've listened. Hell, even trying to off me there would've been better, even if it only expedited your demise, at least there you would've shown some effort. But no."
He laughed. "You treated me as a joke." He pointed his cane at her. "Look at where you are now. What's that make you?"
"Face it. You're all jokes. No past, no future. You believe you're the ones entitled to victory, yet you do nothing to impose your will. You just 'exist' and that's enough. The punchline to it all is that it somehow works. Case in point, your choice of company. What good are friends if they won't fight for you? Kill for you? That fat sack of shit you called your best friend left you to die."
There was a wheeze as Fisk's lips curled outward and upwards. He bared his teeth. "Now, THAT is funny."
He swung his hook at Stokes' feet.
He nodded as he stepped closer.
"...Maybe."
He stopped, watching Stokes hanging on for dear life. "You're defiant in the face of a predetermined outcome. I can relate." He strode closer, raising the hook onto his shoulder. "What I can't relate to is how we treat these circumstances..."
He stopped again. Side eyed the camera.
"You don't take this seriously. Twoish hours ago, did you see yourself in this position when I walked in? I was honest with you. I told you who I was, what I was looking for, and what we were capable of. You blew me off. Smart ones would've listened. Hell, even trying to off me there would've been better, even if it only expedited your demise, at least there you would've shown some effort. But no."
He laughed. "You treated me as a joke." He pointed his cane at her. "Look at where you are now. What's that make you?"
"Face it. You're all jokes. No past, no future. You believe you're the ones entitled to victory, yet you do nothing to impose your will. You just 'exist' and that's enough. The punchline to it all is that it somehow works. Case in point, your choice of company. What good are friends if they won't fight for you? Kill for you? That fat sack of shit you called your best friend left you to die."
There was a wheeze as Fisk's lips curled outward and upwards. He bared his teeth. "Now, THAT is funny."
He swung his hook at Stokes' feet.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
-
DerArknight
- Posts: 684
- Joined: Thu Feb 18, 2021 9:47 pm
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
During all of this, the boombox kept blaring. By now, Grimes had finished, and a new song had started, equally droning out most noises.
As a result, no one heard the blood-curling scream from upstairs, or the big splash that followed barely twenty seconds later.
((Sofia Kowalski continued in Play Stupid Games, Win Awesome Prizes))
As a result, no one heard the blood-curling scream from upstairs, or the big splash that followed barely twenty seconds later.
((Sofia Kowalski continued in Play Stupid Games, Win Awesome Prizes))
Two hours ago, it'd been game over.
Yesterday, it'd been game over.
The minute after she woke up, it'd been game over.
You only got to pick your strategy once.
She'd tried something that could work instead of the straight and narrow, and for a thousand-and-one reasons, it hadn't.
It hadn't and that's why he got to gloat.
And god-fucking-damn she wished she had the slightest bit of ammo to scrub the smirk off his face.
Stokes glared at him.
"Suh—stop jerking it to yagh—your own voice—"
Head meet ground.
Yesterday, it'd been game over.
The minute after she woke up, it'd been game over.
You only got to pick your strategy once.
She'd tried something that could work instead of the straight and narrow, and for a thousand-and-one reasons, it hadn't.
It hadn't and that's why he got to gloat.
And god-fucking-damn she wished she had the slightest bit of ammo to scrub the smirk off his face.
Stokes glared at him.
"Suh—stop jerking it to yagh—your own voice—"
Head meet ground.
"Wanna get right to it, then?"
Fisk stepped closer, dancing to the very fitting change of tune like Brother Sum closing in on the crocodile gang's leader. He knelt down, grinning ear to ear.
"Happy to oblige!"
He closed in, grabbed stokes by the feet, tied the rope around them. He didn't bother with the hands because she wasn't in any condition to fight back. After tightening the knot, he stepped back, and grabbed the long length of slack left over. He wrapped it around his shoulder, and began the journey back to the front door, dancing jovially all the while, Stokes dragged behind him.
He noticed a drinking glass still on the edge of one of the tables, miraculously not knocked off during the carnage. He extended his hook and tapped it over the edge, fixing that discrepancy with a shatter.
"See, unlike your friends, mine's got my back, and I got theirs'. They're willing to kill for me, and I for them. But you've heard enough talking from me, so I figured if I'm going to talk the talk, I'll walk it too."
Upon stepping out through the front door, Fisk looked up, and threw his length of rope through the sign panel on top of the restaurant, and grabbed it on the way down. He pulled down, down, and down, as Stokes went up, up, and up. He tied the knot on the nearby support beam, leaving her to hang upside down, just level with the TRADE sign behind her, now vandalized with the orange F sprayed over it.
"The fat boy fled, but that's fine, he won't get far. James! Good work tonight! You really put out, I'm proud of you."
He stepped away from Stokes and patted his friend on the shoulder.
"Now, as a man of my word, I brought you a present. A little 'push' you get you out of that 'first timer' anxiety you have. A chance to show everyone, yourself included, what you're really capable of!"
He flourished his hook at Stokes.
"She's all yours."
Fisk stepped closer, dancing to the very fitting change of tune like Brother Sum closing in on the crocodile gang's leader. He knelt down, grinning ear to ear.
"Happy to oblige!"
He closed in, grabbed stokes by the feet, tied the rope around them. He didn't bother with the hands because she wasn't in any condition to fight back. After tightening the knot, he stepped back, and grabbed the long length of slack left over. He wrapped it around his shoulder, and began the journey back to the front door, dancing jovially all the while, Stokes dragged behind him.
He noticed a drinking glass still on the edge of one of the tables, miraculously not knocked off during the carnage. He extended his hook and tapped it over the edge, fixing that discrepancy with a shatter.
"See, unlike your friends, mine's got my back, and I got theirs'. They're willing to kill for me, and I for them. But you've heard enough talking from me, so I figured if I'm going to talk the talk, I'll walk it too."
Upon stepping out through the front door, Fisk looked up, and threw his length of rope through the sign panel on top of the restaurant, and grabbed it on the way down. He pulled down, down, and down, as Stokes went up, up, and up. He tied the knot on the nearby support beam, leaving her to hang upside down, just level with the TRADE sign behind her, now vandalized with the orange F sprayed over it.
"The fat boy fled, but that's fine, he won't get far. James! Good work tonight! You really put out, I'm proud of you."
He stepped away from Stokes and patted his friend on the shoulder.
"Now, as a man of my word, I brought you a present. A little 'push' you get you out of that 'first timer' anxiety you have. A chance to show everyone, yourself included, what you're really capable of!"
He flourished his hook at Stokes.
"She's all yours."
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
-
Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
James had frozen up when he heard that howl from Junji. He didn’t need to look in order to know that at least one of his bullets had found their mark. So he didn’t look, nor did he follow Fisk or Junji when they went… wherever they went.
He probably would’ve been too scared to move if he had wanted to, but James definitely didn’t want to. Fisk could handle whatever Junji and Stokes had left, though James hadn’t seen what happened with Sofia and the third (Chris?). Still, Sofia had already killed for the Respects, someone from her own team.
Sofia could handle herself.
So James just stood still, weapon at the ready, eyes fixed on somewhere far away.
Then came a scream, a splash from somewhere and James leapt up in a panic. It sounded like Sofia. Maybe it was just in his head. It was so abrupt, so sudden. She had it handled, right? Was it Ivan?
His fingers ached as he gripped metal in his hands ever tighter.
Before he could decide on what to do, however, James felt a hand on his shoulder, almost gentle, not something he’d expected from Fisk.
And with that touch came words of poison. James quickly took a step back.
“You- You don’t have to do that, I-” James faltered, stumbling over his words and shaking his head as he stared at Fisk, dumbfounded. Why him? Why did he have to kill Stokes? It was insane coming in here and passing it off like some sort of present.
“I-I couldn’t- wouldn’t want to take credit for something that you did, Fisk. It’s really alright. Really. I’m fine with just helping and stuff. You don’t have to worry, I’ll be fine.” Thoughts fired out all at once. Excuses, explanations, all the ways he could think to say no without actually saying it.
“And it, like, probably wouldn’t be an effective use of a machine gun, right? Shooting at someone that’s just laying there?” He tried to laugh, but the sound was awkward, half-dead by the time it left his throat. James glanced over at Stokes but took nothing in, quickly returning his focus to Fisk.
He probably would’ve been too scared to move if he had wanted to, but James definitely didn’t want to. Fisk could handle whatever Junji and Stokes had left, though James hadn’t seen what happened with Sofia and the third (Chris?). Still, Sofia had already killed for the Respects, someone from her own team.
Sofia could handle herself.
So James just stood still, weapon at the ready, eyes fixed on somewhere far away.
Then came a scream, a splash from somewhere and James leapt up in a panic. It sounded like Sofia. Maybe it was just in his head. It was so abrupt, so sudden. She had it handled, right? Was it Ivan?
His fingers ached as he gripped metal in his hands ever tighter.
Before he could decide on what to do, however, James felt a hand on his shoulder, almost gentle, not something he’d expected from Fisk.
And with that touch came words of poison. James quickly took a step back.
“You- You don’t have to do that, I-” James faltered, stumbling over his words and shaking his head as he stared at Fisk, dumbfounded. Why him? Why did he have to kill Stokes? It was insane coming in here and passing it off like some sort of present.
“I-I couldn’t- wouldn’t want to take credit for something that you did, Fisk. It’s really alright. Really. I’m fine with just helping and stuff. You don’t have to worry, I’ll be fine.” Thoughts fired out all at once. Excuses, explanations, all the ways he could think to say no without actually saying it.
“And it, like, probably wouldn’t be an effective use of a machine gun, right? Shooting at someone that’s just laying there?” He tried to laugh, but the sound was awkward, half-dead by the time it left his throat. James glanced over at Stokes but took nothing in, quickly returning his focus to Fisk.