The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living

[Applesintime]

Anthony pulled the bolt back, ejecting the empty bullet case with a clink, and slammed it back in, loading a fresh one. Nadine was running for Matias, who’s leg looked pretty fucked up. Luanne was nowhere to be seen; was she lurking behind him or something? Glancing quickly behind him, he confirmed that wasn’t the case. Right. Matias was a player. He had murdered Leslie. This was justice.

He raised the rifle, aiming at Matias. And as he pulled the trigger, Nadine got in the way, shoving him out of the way and presumably taking the bullet. Eh. A player was a player.

Ben also had something to say. “Ben, would you fuck up and go back to deepthroating yourself? Thanks.” Pulling the bolt back, Anthony didn’t hear the clack of the casing drop to the ground. So he did it again. And again. And again. Looking down, he observed that the casing just wasn’t popping out.

Of course. Of course the fucking thing would jam or do whatever the fuck it was doing now. His attempt to extract the casing grew more and more violent, frustration bleeding through into his actions. “FUCKING WORK!”

[almostinhuman]

Nadine hadn’t moved so fast in her entire life. Her paralysis, her fear, her failure, they’d borne a fatal cost for nearly everyone around her so far. It couldn’t happen again. Even someone like Matias didn’t deserve to die.

For a second, just as she reached him, she thought they were both in the clear.

The impact from behind, and the agony blossoming out from it, told a very different story.

A gasp of pain involuntarily escaped her lips. A growing weakness swiftly overtook her. She just about managed to shove Matias towards Luanne before crumpling to the floor.

[Kermit]

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh no. Luanne, get down. Okay. Oh. What. No no. Um. Anthony, fuck, jesus, she didn't want to be here, she just wanted to go home, she just wanted to go home, she couldn't even tell if he was shooting, Nadine fell in a way that looked just like how people looked when they got shot on the tv, just like that. Nadine was shot. And somehow Matias was back here with Luanne now. Okay. Oh God. Okay. Okay. Anthony was shouting at his gun. Anthony's gun wasn't working. Okay.

Okay.

Nadine was dying or maybe already dead. And there was nothing Luanne could do about it now. So. Just fucking do anything. Just live. Just fucking live. Okay. And don't abandon Matias, because that would be wrong. Fine. And do it now before Anthony gets the gun working.

Could she carry Matias?

Yeah. Yeah, she thought she could carry him for at least a bit. He was like maybe an inch taller than her.

Okay. They weren't all about to die. Probably later in the day, though, given how things were going. No. Shut up. Stop that. Fucking go.

"AAAAH," Luanne yelled as she half-stood, half-charged into Matias, blindly heaving him over her shoulder like he was a sack of potatoes.

((And then she ran. Past Nadine, past Anthony, into the hall, away. She just ran.))

[Maraoone]

The ground left his feet, the air burst, and he thought for a moment that that was that, that Anthony had killed him just like that, and he’d be another dead nobody, and like, that was a really shitty moment or two right there, just dying like that, no fanfare, no fight, no nothin’.

And then he realized he’d been picked up, that he’d been picked up by Luanne, that small tiny girl crying in a ball not more than five minutes ago, and the moment became even shittier somehow.

Like, it was so fucking embarrassing to just have to rely on people like that, to rely on people like her, like, he couldn’t even fucking run for his life for himself. Had to be picked up like a little snot-faced toddler who couldn’t fucking hold his own in a little playground rumble and had to be picked up by mommy, like, how sad.

He was just powerless to watch as Anthony kneeled there with his big gun and his big mug, strong as ever, unstoppable. As Nadine, the girl who’d put up with him and his lame leg for an entire day, the girl who’d had no reason to do any of this, lay bleeding on the ground.

And he’d never be able to make up for it.

((Matias Juarez continues in The Distance Between the Landscape and Dusk))

[Applesintime]

Fucking piece of shit World War 2 gun. Can’t even fucking eject an empty bullet correctly. Now Matias and Luanne were getting away, and with how fucking maze-like these corridors are like, he’d probably not find them for a while. Anthony stepped into the pool proper, still automatically pulling the bolt back and forth, back and forth, until eventually something clattered out and onto the tiled floor. Finally. Bit fucking late, aren’t you? Whatever. Whatever. He had still got one. A player was as good as any other.

Slowly approaching Nadine, his gun trained on her, Anthony took note of her gunshot wound to the left side. He had hit, uh… He couldn’t visualise it in his head properly, but he was thinking… kidney? Liver? Either way, she wasn’t long for this world. If she was even still alive. Another player gone. He’d have loved, just loved to make it a double or even a triple kill, but no, his gun fucking hated him. Silver linings, at least. They would know he was coming. They would fear him. They would fear his righteous aim, bringing these players down one by one to answer to the Lord for their crimes.

But for now, he had to go on. If he was quick, he could maybe tag one of them in the back. Bring Luanne down, get Matias as well. So observing Nadine’s body, the contrast of her blood spilling over the crisp white tiles, for just a moment longer, Anthony stepped over her, moving to follow the two escaping players.

[almostinhuman]

A voice hissed from behind. Shaken, worn, livid, betrayed.

“Stop.”

[Applesintime]

Oh, huh. Nadine was actually still conscious and/or alive. Anthony paused, halfway between her and the open door, turning to her collapsed form, a faint smirk playing on his lips. She was going to die either way, and he probably wasn’t going to catch up to the player duo in time before they disappeared into a maze of doors and hallways like he had done when he escaped from Gabby and her boyfriend. What was the harm?

“Or what, you’re gonna crawl at me?” Anthony chuckled, walking closer to her. The gun was trained on her head. He wasn’t repeating Diana. Or Britnee. “Shoot me with your 100% real gun?” He was still mad about how he had fallen for that. But now he had the upper hand. No player would cross him again.

[almostinhuman]

She was struggling to get up again as he stood there, mocking her. She needed to look him in the eye, she needed his full attention. He owed her that much, at least.

After all, he’d just killed her.

She managed to get to her knees, barely upright, just in time to meet the barrel of his gun. Even now, with her at his mercy, he needed to wave around some weapon to make him feel safe. Like he needed protection from an unarmed dying girl.

She glared past the gun, at the thing holding it, and asked the only question she could think to.

”Why?”

[Applesintime]

Nadine rose to her knees, only for Anthony to gently put his foot on her chest and push her down onto her back, grinding down a little. He wasn’t going to take any chances anymore, not when he had just escaped death a little while ago. That would be stupid. There was little chance of her actually doing anything other than dying, but luck was a bitch.

“Why?” Anthony repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Why? Are you seri- are you fucking thick? Why would I go and shoot a player? What have I been talking about doing from the very moment we met, Nadine? Your murder. You murdered Marion Rosales, and you’re gonna pay the price for it. That’s it.” Had she conveniently forgotten about his whole motive for doing things? Jesus bloody Christ.

Honestly, he was surprised she was like, alive and functional. If her kidney or liver or whatever he thought he hit was actually hit, then she must be in some fucking pain. And all the internal bleeding, loss of bodily functions, etc. It would be admirable if she wasn’t a player.

[almostinhuman]

It’d been quite the struggle just to get up, and Anthony had undone it with little effort. Fresh pain bloomed across her back again as she slammed into the floor, Anthony’s foot firmly on her chest. He was enjoying this, what he’d done, how much it hurt her.

It hurt almost as much as him throwing Marion in her face. What right did he have to say anything about her? Had he ever actually known her? He certainly didn’t know what had actually happened; he’d spun too much wild speculation about it for him to really know. And given how often his name had popped up on the announcements, he had absolutely no room to judge.

He was going to make this heel turn make sense. He was going to fucking explain himself.

“How many? Including… me.”

She already knew the answer. But she wanted him to say it aloud.

[Applesintime]

“Including you? Four and Beau. And I put a bullet into Gabriela Garcia-Campos’ shoulder a little bit ago. That should stop her and her little boyfriend from fucking murdering anyone else. Next time it’ll be her fucking head, teams be damned.” Anthony spat, his finger tensing for just a second. He remembered her howl of pain as the bullet hit her, how she nearly collapsed. He wished he could have finished her off, and that little shit too, but alas, sometimes you have to run.

At the very least, he had another body in front of him now. “Lemme ask you: why? Why try and hide your murder from me, yesterday?” Was the pool fight yesterday? Or was it two days ago? Everything blurred into one here, a senseless orgy of murder and death and players and heroes. “I don’t care how justified it was anymore, because with your attacking me, your refusal to say anything about it, you showed yourself as a player. But maybe if you had just fessed up, we wouldn’t be here.”

That was life, he guessed. Maybe he would still be going after her. Anthony would have liked to be able to count a friend among the innocent, but that number was falling by the day. If anyone alive was even innocent. What friends did he have left that might even be a smidgeon of innocent? Leah? Was that it? Of course, the most innocent of them all was lying in a bathtub in his own blood.

[almostinhuman]

Nadine’s glare faltered, not with sadness or guilt but with confusion. Did he have brain damage or was he deliberately lying about the last time they met? It was clear his perception of things was warped, regardless.

It didn’t matter which it was. She wasn’t going to let him live in that fantasy, where everything was everyone else’s fault and he was some big fucking hero. He could own what he’d done or he could just shoot her right now, but she wasn’t feeding his bullshit.

“I… I told you I killed Marion. I admitted it was my fault. And you attacked me first.”

It was hard to keep talking, through the pain of the gunshot and the weight of Anthony on her chest. But she had to. He didn’t get to walk away from this feeling good about himself.

“And I’m not the one halfway to release. Five kills. Must be eager to go home.”

[Applesintime]

Anthony scowled at her, his foot pressing down just a little harder on her chest. What was she playing at? Her and her little friend Luanne attacking him, her refusal to give any details about the murder of Marion other than that she killed her, did she not remember any of this? Maybe she was just fucking stupid. Maybe the blood loss was getting to her memory; there was a slowly growing pool underneath Nadine, after all.

“You refused to tell me anything about it. Told me I didn’t ‘deserve it’.” With his free hand, Anthony made air quotes. “And then of course, your little friend attacking me because I had no idea if you were playing or not, because you didn’t fucking say a thing about it, and so I had to make the logical decision and put you down! How’s the gash, by the way?” He scoffed. It was funny in a way, wasn’t it? Their first meeting had been here, and then their last had been here as well. Bookends. “Really, what else was I supposed to do? Let a potential player go?”

And then she insinuated that he was just fucking doing this for the ten. That all he cared about was going home. Not justice. Not avenging the murdered. Just going home. Anthony’s face twisted into anger. “I’m not fucking doing this to go home! I’m doing this so the people who die can have some justice for their death, something that they’ll never fucking get if their killers make it out of here and build their fame on the corpses that they made!” How dare she? She knew he hated this game. Why would he work with it? He wanted no fame. But if he got the ten, then he would go home. Five more players. He could say his duty had been done then.

[almostinhuman]

He was delusional, she decided. All he cared to remember were details that vindicated him, or incriminated her; everything else was freely dropped or shoddily reframed to fit his narrative. He was completely up his own ass, saying all this for his own benefit, not for hers.

But he’d handed her something she could use. He’d mentioned Beau, his first kill, separately from the supposed “players.” The first was different, somehow. Maybe it was the thing to cut his self-righteous horseshit off at the knees.

“Justice, hm? Explain Beau.”

[Applesintime]

Oh, little fucking bitch. Everyone brought up Beau as if it was this big gotcha, as if they brought it up enough times Anthony would put down his gun and let them murder him. He could reconcile mercy killing Beau, who was innocent, and killing players at the same time. No matter how many fucking times they repeated the question.

“Beau asked me to kill him, you stupid bitch! He was frightened because fucking players kept trying to kill him! Gregory, Gabriela, every fucking player kept fucking going after him, and he wanted to die with someone he cared about! Someone who fucking cared for him. He wanted to die in peace, Nadine, and I fucking gave him that! There’s a world of fucking difference between your murder of Marion and me mercy killing him! Jesus fucking Christ, you players never fucking learn!” Anthony ranted at her, his arms trembling with anger.

“It’s no big fucking gotcha! I can mercy kill him and still kill players, and that makes sense! He may have been an innocent, but he wanted me to, and I would not let a Fucking. Player. Kill. Him!” Anthony stamped on her chest at the end. Fuck her. He thought she was a friend, before SOTF. She was nothing but a paigon, a false friend, someone who’d stab you in the back.