In Dreams You Will Lose Your Heartaches...

[MurderWeasel]

Sometimes, when shit was bad, Keegan pulled into himself.

It wasn't just when the hurt was physical. Sure, when he was so sick with strep that swallowing was agony he'd cocoon himself up in his room and try to hibernate, but the same tactic worked just as well when teachers were on his ass about missing homework, or his mom was freaking out about how something he did was over the line, or he just felt lonely and unsure of everything. And this right now, everything happening? That was the worst of both worlds.

He'd never hurt as much or in the same way as he hurt now. Physically, of course, but also on other levels that were—well, no bullshitting, they weren't worse than the literal pain of having been shot but they were upsetting in an entirely different and complementary and very serious way.

Verity had done this. This had all turned bad and it shouldn't have. He'd messed up. They'd messed up. Ivan wasn't dead. It was all falling apart. He'd thought he would have a couple good days left, at least.

He didn't say anything, just let himself be supported and helped and tended. Just closed his eyes. It was more comfortable in the dark. It was more comfortable when the pain got so bad he thought everything was blackness even when his eyes were open.

His one wish, when consciousness slipped away, was that he'd get lucky and not wake up. It would be easier to just be done. No having to fix the mess. It'd be everyone else's problem now. Kinda sucked for them, and he liked them and didn't want them to suffer, but... he wanted to have to deal with it less.

It was all dark for a while. No thoughts. No anything.

But then, faintly and far away, Keegan heard a voice familiar from the recent Champions patches, and as the light came into the corners of his eyes once more, he realized that he wasn't so lucky as to be caught up in one final dying fever dream.

((FR03 Keegan Garcia continued in The Management))

[Primrosette]

James hadn't thrown her under the bus.

That was all that Bacchia could think about in that moment and Fisk had been rightfully upset with how things had went. Bacchia had been quiet the whole time as she was trying to process everything in her mind as time went on as a blur in front of her and she was just sitting by the table where Keegan was going in and out of consciousness. Not saying a word to anyone.

Keegan's blood was on her fingers and it felt so strange, so unusual in person.

They had also failed to kill Ivan by the sound of the announcement. Verity had also a kill to her name and Bacchia couldn't help but chuckle at that.

Fisk and Vasily had also left at some point to get well.... respect back for The Respects.

Bacchia felt her mind shutting down as she was watching over Keegan and she knew that she would have to talk to James at some point.

But right now, she rather fester in silence.

She needed to think things over.

She could fail what she wanted to do.

Again.

((Bacchia Rubus continued in The Management))

[Catche Jagger]

In the end, James had stuck to the story being about everything falling apart and no one being at fault specifically. Not Bacchia for escalating things, not Keegan for trying to stop the fight, and not himself for just standing around like a dumbass.

And for his loyalty and diligence, James had been handed the best weapon the group had: Fisk’s machine gun. James could only stare at Fisk for a moment as the weapon was placed before him, dumbfounded that he had been deemed the party worthy of handling the protection here, at least in the first shift. Then again, with Fisk and Vasily going out, Giselle apparently missing, Keegan injured, and Bacchia turning out to maybe not be the responsible choice, who else was there?

His mood wasn't exactly helped by Ivan presumably still being alive and pissed off, having managed to not be listed among the dead of the announcement.

Damn it. The whole point of him being in the group was that he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. How the hell was he supposed to be the responsible one here?

Was there anything else he could do, though?

“Yeah, uh, I’ve got this. Good luck, guys.” James nodded, hesitantly lifting the gun from the table as he watched Fisk and Vas depart.

Bacchia went back to helping Keegan. She didn’t say anything.

Neither did James.

((James Highchurch continued in The Management))