Once again, sleeping hadn’t been so good. Much of it had been the same: bugs, dirt, rocks that dug into your back, that kind of thing. But this time, there was some new things that managed to keep her awake. The first was, of course, that smell. Sleeping right next to what had to be the worst smell on earth didn’t do wonders for trying to go to sleep. But there was something else, and that was people.
Miranda had laid down, but she tried to stay awake. She knew that it was a golden opportunity. If someone wanted to, they could reasonably kill someone in their sleep. They could shoot her, or stab her, or smother her, or something. Sleep was vulnerable. It was especially vulnerable when you’re around… three people, she guessed. Kasumi counted, even if she was unconscious. Though, that could mean if she wanted to...
She kept her tire iron tight to her, but eventually, even she slept.
She was awake. That meant she was alive. Okay, good. No one thought of that, apparently. Maybe. She wasn’t certain.
Miranda had kept to the ground on her back for a few moments, thinking to herself. But, soon enough, the screeching noise played, followed by the announcements.
She tensed up some when she heard Saachi’s name. Twice. She’d killed two people. Miranda wasn’t sure what to make of that, but before she could process that information, more came in. Eris was dead, killed by that weird KK. Eris, of all people. It was weird to think about. Jasmine had killed two people, too. “Lance” seemed like a familiar name, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. But, did that mean Paris died of his injuries, or that she came back and finished the job?
She couldn’t decide which was a worse way to go.
A few more minutes after the announcement, and Miranda slowly sat up, rubbing her head. Her leg still hurt, but that was nothing new. But, she looked over to Kasumi. Still alive, but still out of it. She was moving, but her skin looked pale and clammy.
Kitty started speaking to Sebastien, but Miranda didn’t pay it much mind. It was basic “how are you” stuff. Instead, she crawled over to Kasumi, looking her over. She was thrashing a little and making small soft noises
Miranda wasn’t sure if she could tell she was there.
“Hey..” she started, but then gulped. She started again.
“I’m not sure if she’s going to make it.”
Miranda sucked in some air. What would they do if she didn’t?
And yet, even in the back of her head, she knew that it’d benefit her if there was one less person. She couldn’t tell what she thought of that.
'Cause We Are Young and We Are Sick
Sebastien rolled his neck both to work out some of the stiffness and to take his gaze somewhere other than Kasumi for a moment. Was he okay? No. Pretty much the opposite of okay, but he'd been like that for... two days now. Anyone who managed to be okay under these circumstances had something deeply wrong with them.
"I'm managing," he said finally in reply to Kitty, because he was. He wasn't okay, but he was hanging on.
Figuring out a response to Miranda was harder. The more he looked, the more Sebastien felt that she was probably right, but he didn't want to have to admit it.
"I... don't know. She might wake up." He couldn't make his voice very convincing.
"I'm managing," he said finally in reply to Kitty, because he was. He wasn't okay, but he was hanging on.
Figuring out a response to Miranda was harder. The more he looked, the more Sebastien felt that she was probably right, but he didn't want to have to admit it.
"I... don't know. She might wake up." He couldn't make his voice very convincing.
-
The Honeless Beard
- Posts: 892
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:47 am
- Location: Got it? Good, now get inside.
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
TRIGGER WARNING:
The following post contains major triggers having to do with suicide and a minor trigger for those with tryptophobia. Should you not want to experience either of these things, please skip to here in the order.
Thank you for your time.
The following post contains major triggers having to do with suicide and a minor trigger for those with tryptophobia. Should you not want to experience either of these things, please skip to here in the order.
Thank you for your time.
YOU
Who’s to blame, then,
The poor, for toiling when they should’ve fought?
The knights, for fighting when they should’ve revolted?
The rebels, who should’ve held their tongues?
Who do you blame,
When it all seems so
predisposed
KK stood across a field, pointing a gun at Adonis, waving it around. He looked small, weak, curled in on himself as he threw a hand in front of his face, attempting to either block the oncoming bullet or to hide the sight of the gun - both fruitless, empty gestures. The world was silent and black, nothing around Kasumi but an echo of footprints sounding as if stepping upon shallow water, the bat in her hand trailing behind her. She watched the eerie tableau - a killer taking her first victim, poor weak little boy cowering against a darkened wall, the ass of his jeans soaked in water.
She scrubbed at her makeup that had run from tears, conjured alongside the bullet that had killed Mr. Dolph. She felt as though her own body wasn’t hers to control, as if she was strapped to a chair, watching the ordeal through a glass window. She saw herself - the Kasumi - with the bat being dragged, the leaky eyeshadow, surveying Adonis and KK and making some sort of decision. In front of her, the consequences were hinted at, flashes at the edges of her vision, things she couldn’t quite focus on as she scrubbed her makeup harder, ringing her hands with black.
In front of this chair she felt she was strapped to hung a rope.
She kept seeing it - a world where she was forced to bash in Miranda’s head with a rock, a world where she fought and scratched out Kitty’s eyes with her fingernails, a world where Sebastien bled onto her hands, a slippery knife clutched in her fingers. She saw a world where Lance died before she could save him, a world where Lance and her killed, a world where Lance was the one she killed to leave, to go home. A world where every single one of these decisions were outside of God’s path, but KK was here with a gun and threatening Adonis and maybe this decision was good, maybe it was fine that she’d decide this maybe God made mistakes too and would be tricked.
She grabbed the rope from the chair she felt she was strapped to, began to tie it with shaky hands as she saw the Kasumi begin to run towards KK, Adonis having faded into nothingness in this inky black world where it was KK and the Kasumi, the Kasumi screaming into the air, drawing attention as the rope wrapped around itself and formed an imperfect circle that slid over smudged and smeared makeup and wrapped around her delicate throat. She watched the Kasumi get closer, and closer, as KK raised the barrel of the gun and she stepped onto the chair she felt she was strapped to, tugged the rope as the bullet fired and she kicked the stool and for a few moments, yes yes yes-
The rope snapped as the bullet hit the Kasumi’s leg, and she fell to the ground, tears flowing anew.
-
The Honeless Beard
- Posts: 892
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:47 am
- Location: Got it? Good, now get inside.
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
”You…” he said, accompanied by dripping, insistent droplets from a pipe from far above. He managed a cough, and Selene didn’t know how he kept going, ribs crushed as they were from the madman’s improvised weaponry. She curled over him, water bottle poised over his lips, eyes intent on his own.
“Don’t talk, Kurt - please don’t talk,” she whispered, running a torn-up hand down the front of his face. She silently cursed the mad devil who had done this to him - who had ruined her beautiful visage of a fiancee forever.
”You holding up okay?” Kurt managed again, though his lungs gurgled in his chest.
She watched him, pity in her dark eyes, and withdrew the bottle of water, saved him from that much more time on earth.
“I’ll be okay,” she said, taking a small sip, “thanks to you.”
Henry’s main drawback as a protagonist of this book is that, in the end, he’s an unlikable protagonist. He beats up people, he steals wallets, clothes, cash from registers, food - anything to help him personally survive whenever he travels back in time. He justifies this - and the narrative does a good job of justifying, too - that he does this merely to survive, and further, if he stole these things and is alive in the future, then by not stealing them in the past, he’d create a time paradox. This is where the book’s biggest flaws come into play, in that it never definably proves whether or not Henry’s version of time - that it’s a straight, inflexible line - is true or not. We’re left with the main character’s perception of what is true, and so these questions of morality and right-and-wrong are given far less weight against the backdrop of moral superiority. Further, we never really see Claire wrestling with the weight of Henry’s actions - she defends him, yes, but we never as readers are given insight into how Claire feels regarding the fact that her life was essentially put on rails at a young age by a man who was too afraid to go on without loving her. Many critics find the lack of villain in The Time Traveler’s Wife to be a big drawback, but I personally completely disagree. Seeing the book through the right lens, it’s obvious that Henry is it’s biggest nemesis - to all of the characters within it, including himself. Henry’s morality, in this way, is easily traced as villainous, as unjust, and, ultimately, selfish.
[CABIN IN WOODS, INTERIOR, DAWN. CAPTAIN DOOMHAMMER and his friend and associate, MARVELOUS MARVELLO, are talking near a roaring fireplace.]
CAPTAIN DOOMHAMMER: Hey…
MARVELOUS MARVELLO: Yes, Captain?
DOOMHAMMER: You know that girl, the one we saved?
MARVELLO: Back in the city, from the RAVAGING TITAN?
DOOMHAMMER: Yeah.
MARVELLO: She’ll be okay, Cap. Wounds can heal.
DOOMHAMMER: I just worry about her. I feel as though…
[CLOSE-UP on DOOMHAMMER. We see tears rolling down his cheek.]
DOOMHAMMER: I just feel like we don’t do enough, Marv. We work day in, day out, saving this damn city from evil, from the TITAN, from the EXECUTOR, from TOBIAS THE TERROR, but we can’t save them all. How many attacks until they kill a hundred? A thousand? Ten thousand? How many brutalities do these fair citizens of LITTLE need suffer before true peace can be brought? How many atrocities must we bear witness to before we stand and say, enough is enough? That woman was a hero, small as she was, and though she braved the TITAN’s MAGNANIMOUS DEATH RAY, she still died useless, small, and nothing.
MARVELLO: Wow, Cap. She really got to you.
DOOMHAMMER: Most of them get to me, Marvello. I’m not sure if she’s going to make it.
“A court house is cheaper, and easier to get an appointment in! Why do we need to invite everyone, anyways? Everyone already knows Lance and I are going to be married!”
“Kasumi, you will watch your tone.”
“No, mom, I won’t! Why does it always have to be your way? Just once - just once in my life, I want it to be my way. Mine!”
“You can’t get what you want all the time, Kasumi. Sometimes you need to make sacrifices.”
“You don’t let me have any choice!”
“Sometimes there isn’t any choice to make, and it’s hard to see which is right and which is wrong. You need to make the smart decision.”
“Bro,” the smaller one whispered, standing somewhere near the old man’s head. The second one was straddling the man’s, pinning the old guy’s shoulders with his knees, his big hands wrapped around the elder, slender neck.
“I’m managing,” the big one snapped, as he increased pressure, the old bonebag thrashing even more violently against his hold. Slippered feet beat against the tiled floor as he pushed down harder, watched the veins pop out even more visibly. The man’s teeth gnashed together as the smaller one adjusted his mask, tapping the pistol awkwardly against his thigh as he watched the scene below.
Finally, the thrashing stopped, and the bigger man let out a huff of relief as he leaned back, shaking his hands from the fervor they had gone through.
“Okay, so we’re good?” the small one said, shaking his own hands, more out of something to do than necessity.
Behind his mask, the big one frowned, then gestured towards a door, adorned with pink flowers that said Kacey in careful, large printing.
“I… don’t know,” the small one said to the unspoken gesture, fingering his pistol nervously.
“She might wake up,” the large one replied, and, taking the pistol, he began to walk towards the room.
She was back in the blackness, only this time, no KK, no Adonis. No semblance of life within the pitch black, no sound other than water. She was alone, staring into the void, eyes squeezed shut as she conjured scenario after scenario.
She lived for the moments where her hand would brush against a familiar, calloused palm - at the firing range, in school, walking home from a movie. Those little fireworks of light in her life, throwing shades of red and blue across her face as she watched from a spread out blanket.
It was ironic, then, that she felt none of those little touches in her last moments.
She lived for his words, his quiet determination and security in their relationship. She walked with him and saw forever, felt a deep, undying love. She could conjure up fantasies, instances three, five, twelve years into the future where it was just her and him, sitting cross legged in bed watching bad television with that familiar calloused hand in hers, or shoveling snow together to go to work.
In her last moments, she saw nothing, could conjure up dust.
She lived for a blessing, and she saw them everywhere - the physical blessing her dad had gifted upon her, shaking that familiar calloused hand in his much larger one, driving them to the gun range. The emotional one her mother supplied, picking out wedding dresses and soberly assisting her when she couldn’t find a dress in her size. The sarcastic one in her sister, who rolled her eyes and made gagging noises whenever he and her were together, but still played lookout, still tagged along if the two of them were going out.
And all of a sudden, she felt a familiar calloused palm.
“Lance?” she asked.
“Don’t talk, Kurt - please don’t talk,” she whispered, running a torn-up hand down the front of his face. She silently cursed the mad devil who had done this to him - who had ruined her beautiful visage of a fiancee forever.
”You holding up okay?” Kurt managed again, though his lungs gurgled in his chest.
She watched him, pity in her dark eyes, and withdrew the bottle of water, saved him from that much more time on earth.
“I’ll be okay,” she said, taking a small sip, “thanks to you.”
Henry’s main drawback as a protagonist of this book is that, in the end, he’s an unlikable protagonist. He beats up people, he steals wallets, clothes, cash from registers, food - anything to help him personally survive whenever he travels back in time. He justifies this - and the narrative does a good job of justifying, too - that he does this merely to survive, and further, if he stole these things and is alive in the future, then by not stealing them in the past, he’d create a time paradox. This is where the book’s biggest flaws come into play, in that it never definably proves whether or not Henry’s version of time - that it’s a straight, inflexible line - is true or not. We’re left with the main character’s perception of what is true, and so these questions of morality and right-and-wrong are given far less weight against the backdrop of moral superiority. Further, we never really see Claire wrestling with the weight of Henry’s actions - she defends him, yes, but we never as readers are given insight into how Claire feels regarding the fact that her life was essentially put on rails at a young age by a man who was too afraid to go on without loving her. Many critics find the lack of villain in The Time Traveler’s Wife to be a big drawback, but I personally completely disagree. Seeing the book through the right lens, it’s obvious that Henry is it’s biggest nemesis - to all of the characters within it, including himself. Henry’s morality, in this way, is easily traced as villainous, as unjust, and, ultimately, selfish.
[CABIN IN WOODS, INTERIOR, DAWN. CAPTAIN DOOMHAMMER and his friend and associate, MARVELOUS MARVELLO, are talking near a roaring fireplace.]
CAPTAIN DOOMHAMMER: Hey…
MARVELOUS MARVELLO: Yes, Captain?
DOOMHAMMER: You know that girl, the one we saved?
MARVELLO: Back in the city, from the RAVAGING TITAN?
DOOMHAMMER: Yeah.
MARVELLO: She’ll be okay, Cap. Wounds can heal.
DOOMHAMMER: I just worry about her. I feel as though…
[CLOSE-UP on DOOMHAMMER. We see tears rolling down his cheek.]
DOOMHAMMER: I just feel like we don’t do enough, Marv. We work day in, day out, saving this damn city from evil, from the TITAN, from the EXECUTOR, from TOBIAS THE TERROR, but we can’t save them all. How many attacks until they kill a hundred? A thousand? Ten thousand? How many brutalities do these fair citizens of LITTLE need suffer before true peace can be brought? How many atrocities must we bear witness to before we stand and say, enough is enough? That woman was a hero, small as she was, and though she braved the TITAN’s MAGNANIMOUS DEATH RAY, she still died useless, small, and nothing.
MARVELLO: Wow, Cap. She really got to you.
DOOMHAMMER: Most of them get to me, Marvello. I’m not sure if she’s going to make it.
“A court house is cheaper, and easier to get an appointment in! Why do we need to invite everyone, anyways? Everyone already knows Lance and I are going to be married!”
“Kasumi, you will watch your tone.”
“No, mom, I won’t! Why does it always have to be your way? Just once - just once in my life, I want it to be my way. Mine!”
“You can’t get what you want all the time, Kasumi. Sometimes you need to make sacrifices.”
“You don’t let me have any choice!”
“Sometimes there isn’t any choice to make, and it’s hard to see which is right and which is wrong. You need to make the smart decision.”
“Bro,” the smaller one whispered, standing somewhere near the old man’s head. The second one was straddling the man’s, pinning the old guy’s shoulders with his knees, his big hands wrapped around the elder, slender neck.
“I’m managing,” the big one snapped, as he increased pressure, the old bonebag thrashing even more violently against his hold. Slippered feet beat against the tiled floor as he pushed down harder, watched the veins pop out even more visibly. The man’s teeth gnashed together as the smaller one adjusted his mask, tapping the pistol awkwardly against his thigh as he watched the scene below.
Finally, the thrashing stopped, and the bigger man let out a huff of relief as he leaned back, shaking his hands from the fervor they had gone through.
“Okay, so we’re good?” the small one said, shaking his own hands, more out of something to do than necessity.
Behind his mask, the big one frowned, then gestured towards a door, adorned with pink flowers that said Kacey in careful, large printing.
“I… don’t know,” the small one said to the unspoken gesture, fingering his pistol nervously.
“She might wake up,” the large one replied, and, taking the pistol, he began to walk towards the room.
She was back in the blackness, only this time, no KK, no Adonis. No semblance of life within the pitch black, no sound other than water. She was alone, staring into the void, eyes squeezed shut as she conjured scenario after scenario.
She lived for the moments where her hand would brush against a familiar, calloused palm - at the firing range, in school, walking home from a movie. Those little fireworks of light in her life, throwing shades of red and blue across her face as she watched from a spread out blanket.
It was ironic, then, that she felt none of those little touches in her last moments.
She lived for his words, his quiet determination and security in their relationship. She walked with him and saw forever, felt a deep, undying love. She could conjure up fantasies, instances three, five, twelve years into the future where it was just her and him, sitting cross legged in bed watching bad television with that familiar calloused hand in hers, or shoveling snow together to go to work.
In her last moments, she saw nothing, could conjure up dust.
She lived for a blessing, and she saw them everywhere - the physical blessing her dad had gifted upon her, shaking that familiar calloused hand in his much larger one, driving them to the gun range. The emotional one her mother supplied, picking out wedding dresses and soberly assisting her when she couldn’t find a dress in her size. The sarcastic one in her sister, who rolled her eyes and made gagging noises whenever he and her were together, but still played lookout, still tagged along if the two of them were going out.
And all of a sudden, she felt a familiar calloused palm.
“Lance?” she asked.
Kasumi didn't wake up. In the few moments that Sebastien's attention was elsewhere, she proceeded to do the exact opposite of waking up, and indeed settled very firmly into never waking up ever again.
When he turned back to her, she was no longer breathing.
"Ka-" Shit. Shit. Shit.
"Kasumi!?"
Nope, definitely not breathing. He couldn't find a pulse. Was that because his hands were shaking, or did she really not have a pulse?
Why the hell was he sitting here debating over that when she wasn't breathing anyway?
Sebastien scrambled through his mental catalog for his CPR training, moving on autopilot even as he thought to hunch over Kasumi and fold his hands over her chest.
Most important question now: you gonna hum "Stayin' Alive" or "Another One Bites The Dust"?
Part of him had the wherewithal to be annoyed with himself. The rest started mentally bopping along to Queen as he pressed down on Kasumi's chest, counting out beats even as he knew that every second that passed was a second that she slipped further away.
When he turned back to her, she was no longer breathing.
"Ka-" Shit. Shit. Shit.
"Kasumi!?"
Nope, definitely not breathing. He couldn't find a pulse. Was that because his hands were shaking, or did she really not have a pulse?
Why the hell was he sitting here debating over that when she wasn't breathing anyway?
Sebastien scrambled through his mental catalog for his CPR training, moving on autopilot even as he thought to hunch over Kasumi and fold his hands over her chest.
Most important question now: you gonna hum "Stayin' Alive" or "Another One Bites The Dust"?
Part of him had the wherewithal to be annoyed with himself. The rest started mentally bopping along to Queen as he pressed down on Kasumi's chest, counting out beats even as he knew that every second that passed was a second that she slipped further away.
((GMing approved, but lemme know if I need to change stuff))
Miranda frowned. She “might”? That didn’t sound good. “Might” made it sound like… god, she didn’t know, that it could happen, but no one was sure. Like it was another uncertainty, up in the air. She clenched her free hand at the thought. It was strange she cared so much. In a way. She guessed that since she’d already seen three people die…
But another moment later, and Miranda noticed something else.
She wasn’t breathing.
Miranda’s own breath stopped for a second.
Sebastien noticed too, and he ran forward. He tried to call out to her, but she said nothing. Miranda had just sat nearby, watching as he slammed his hands uselessly and helplessly against her chest. She continued staring, knowing that something else needed to be done. But what came to mind wasn’t pleasant.
Was it a good idea?
She had to make a decision. Now.
Miranda kept the tire iron in her hand, nice in tight. Just one fell swoop. One? But that wouldn’t work? Maybe it’s take more than one. Maybe she couldn’t hit just right, Maybe it’d actually make things worse for her.
Then, somewhere in the panic, she saw it.
Inside Sebastien’s hoodie, there was a faint outline. Faint, but she still saw it. She still recognized it. She had to think quickly. And she did.
Slowly, she crawled closer to Sebastien, and looked at his face. Still focused, still determined. She had to be quick. No time to ask, or politeness, or anything. She had to do it.
Her hand snaked inside the pocket, and pulled it out. It was what she thought it was. Some kind of old-timey handgun. She placed the iron down, and took the gun with both shaking hands. She couldn’t tell if Sebastien noticed, and honestly, she didn’t know if she cared. But it was an option, and she could take it. She pointed the gun toward’s Kasumi’s head, still feeling the quiver in her arms.
Miranda frowned. She “might”? That didn’t sound good. “Might” made it sound like… god, she didn’t know, that it could happen, but no one was sure. Like it was another uncertainty, up in the air. She clenched her free hand at the thought. It was strange she cared so much. In a way. She guessed that since she’d already seen three people die…
But another moment later, and Miranda noticed something else.
She wasn’t breathing.
Miranda’s own breath stopped for a second.
Sebastien noticed too, and he ran forward. He tried to call out to her, but she said nothing. Miranda had just sat nearby, watching as he slammed his hands uselessly and helplessly against her chest. She continued staring, knowing that something else needed to be done. But what came to mind wasn’t pleasant.
Was it a good idea?
She had to make a decision. Now.
Miranda kept the tire iron in her hand, nice in tight. Just one fell swoop. One? But that wouldn’t work? Maybe it’s take more than one. Maybe she couldn’t hit just right, Maybe it’d actually make things worse for her.
Then, somewhere in the panic, she saw it.
Inside Sebastien’s hoodie, there was a faint outline. Faint, but she still saw it. She still recognized it. She had to think quickly. And she did.
Slowly, she crawled closer to Sebastien, and looked at his face. Still focused, still determined. She had to be quick. No time to ask, or politeness, or anything. She had to do it.
Her hand snaked inside the pocket, and pulled it out. It was what she thought it was. Some kind of old-timey handgun. She placed the iron down, and took the gun with both shaking hands. She couldn’t tell if Sebastien noticed, and honestly, she didn’t know if she cared. But it was an option, and she could take it. She pointed the gun toward’s Kasumi’s head, still feeling the quiver in her arms.
Miranda was there at his side, and it took a second too long for Sebastien to realize that she wasn't trying to offer some kind of moral support. The weight of the gun in his pocket was gone by the time he had processed it enough to react.
"Hey."
He didn't know what else to say. He should have tried to sound more outraged, but there was just too much going on inside his head at the moment to sort out things like emotions.
Kasumi still wasn't breathing. How many minutes had it been? Probably long enough for brain damage to start setting in.
She had either died at his side while he was distracted or right under his hands, and he honestly wasn't sure which one was worse.
Miranda had the gun, and she was taking aim, but her hands were shaking.
She wasn't sure yet. That was what made Sebastien believe he could reason with her.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Hey."
He didn't know what else to say. He should have tried to sound more outraged, but there was just too much going on inside his head at the moment to sort out things like emotions.
Kasumi still wasn't breathing. How many minutes had it been? Probably long enough for brain damage to start setting in.
She had either died at his side while he was distracted or right under his hands, and he honestly wasn't sure which one was worse.
Miranda had the gun, and she was taking aim, but her hands were shaking.
She wasn't sure yet. That was what made Sebastien believe he could reason with her.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Miranda had always been a self-conscious person. It was a secret she tried to hide, but she got the feeling that sometimes, people figured that out. Then again, it was hard not to feel that way when you have a gun pointed at a girl’s head while its owner asks what you’re trying to do.
Her hands still shook. But she kept it pointed.
“I was… thinking. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe… it’d be best if… we helped her. I think she’s in pain, and…”
And?
Just say it.
Just say what you wanted to do.
It’s not like you considered killing people before. It’s not like it’s the first time you attacked someone. It’s not like it’ll probably be the last. It’s not like she was going to die no matter what. It’s not like one less person wouldn’t benefit you anyways.
She sucked in some more air.
“If it came down to it, I’d do it.”
There. You admitted it.
Her hands still shook. But she kept it pointed.
“I was… thinking. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe… it’d be best if… we helped her. I think she’s in pain, and…”
And?
Just say it.
Just say what you wanted to do.
It’s not like you considered killing people before. It’s not like it’s the first time you attacked someone. It’s not like it’ll probably be the last. It’s not like she was going to die no matter what. It’s not like one less person wouldn’t benefit you anyways.
She sucked in some more air.
“If it came down to it, I’d do it.”
There. You admitted it.
There was a lot Sebastien could say to that.
She's already dead. It sounds like you have an ulterior motive. You could have just asked about the gun. She's already dead. I couldn't help her, and neither can you. I don't believe you. She's already dead.
None of that was what came out.
"Miranda... don't be stupid."
He took a step towards her.
She's already dead. It sounds like you have an ulterior motive. You could have just asked about the gun. She's already dead. I couldn't help her, and neither can you. I don't believe you. She's already dead.
None of that was what came out.
"Miranda... don't be stupid."
He took a step towards her.
Miranda felt her muscles tense up.
But she stood up, leaving the tire iron on the ground. The gun was pointed away from Kasumi, this time pointed towards the dirt nearby.
“It’s not stupid,” she spat out.
It really wasn’t. If Kasumi was going to die, it was an option. She’d at least be spared a long and painful death. It’d be quicker, and much less pain involved. At least, for her.
Don’t kid yourself, Randa. You knew someone dying would help you.
But she knew that it was better to let someone die quickly than slowly, right? Maybe it was better to do it like this. Maybe.
“If she’s dying, she’s going to be in pain. We could make sure she’s not… not…”
She still couldn’t say it.
But she knew what she was thinking.
But she stood up, leaving the tire iron on the ground. The gun was pointed away from Kasumi, this time pointed towards the dirt nearby.
“It’s not stupid,” she spat out.
It really wasn’t. If Kasumi was going to die, it was an option. She’d at least be spared a long and painful death. It’d be quicker, and much less pain involved. At least, for her.
Don’t kid yourself, Randa. You knew someone dying would help you.
But she knew that it was better to let someone die quickly than slowly, right? Maybe it was better to do it like this. Maybe.
“If she’s dying, she’s going to be in pain. We could make sure she’s not… not…”
She still couldn’t say it.
But she knew what she was thinking.
"She's already dead!"
There. He'd admitted it out loud. He had done everything he could for Kasumi and it wasn't enough. Like... shit, he needed time to deal with that. Even after spitting it out, he was struggling to process the fact that Kasumi had died under his hands. He needed some peace and quiet to think, and Miranda waving the gun around was the exact opposite of helpful and was just reminding him of the disaster that had lead to Aaron getting shot.
He needed the gun out of her hands, and then they could sort everything else out.
Sebastien moved forward again, stretching his hand out to her, palm upraised like he was demanding something from a dog or a stubborn child.
"Give me the gun."
There. He'd admitted it out loud. He had done everything he could for Kasumi and it wasn't enough. Like... shit, he needed time to deal with that. Even after spitting it out, he was struggling to process the fact that Kasumi had died under his hands. He needed some peace and quiet to think, and Miranda waving the gun around was the exact opposite of helpful and was just reminding him of the disaster that had lead to Aaron getting shot.
He needed the gun out of her hands, and then they could sort everything else out.
Sebastien moved forward again, stretching his hand out to her, palm upraised like he was demanding something from a dog or a stubborn child.
"Give me the gun."
“... You sure about that?” Miranda spat out.
Oh. Oh… what happened? She was too slow. He didn’t do enough. Or maybe she was slated to die. Yeah, she was slow, and she’d hesitated enough. Kasumi died anyways, likely in pain. If she’d move quicker, maybe there’d be less pain involved. Maybe she should have thought of this last night. Maybe she should have done it the second she woke up. God, she didn’t know! What was the right thing to do? She was likely going to end up killing anyways, and… and…
Miranda tried to breathe, but it felt like she was being choked.
For a moment, she lifted the gun barrel down, reaching it so he could take it. But, a second later, she lowered it.
“Sebastien…” she forced out.
She knew that if he had it back, it was his to do whatever he wanted. She’d be letting him continue to have a weapon. One that could be used against her.
“Can I trust you?”
Deep down, she knew the answer to that question.
Oh. Oh… what happened? She was too slow. He didn’t do enough. Or maybe she was slated to die. Yeah, she was slow, and she’d hesitated enough. Kasumi died anyways, likely in pain. If she’d move quicker, maybe there’d be less pain involved. Maybe she should have thought of this last night. Maybe she should have done it the second she woke up. God, she didn’t know! What was the right thing to do? She was likely going to end up killing anyways, and… and…
Miranda tried to breathe, but it felt like she was being choked.
For a moment, she lifted the gun barrel down, reaching it so he could take it. But, a second later, she lowered it.
“Sebastien…” she forced out.
She knew that if he had it back, it was his to do whatever he wanted. She’d be letting him continue to have a weapon. One that could be used against her.
“Can I trust you?”
Deep down, she knew the answer to that question.
"Yes." There was an edge of impatience to his voice.
Miranda didn't offer the gun again, but he reached for it anyway.
Miranda didn't offer the gun again, but he reached for it anyway.
Just a "yes."
Miranda's eyes scrunched, and her lips pulled back. She took a step backwards. Her grip tightened on the gun.
"I don't think... I'm not sure I can."
Miranda, he offered to help with your leg. You let him. Maybe you can trust him with this. Maybe another weapon with someone else wouldn't be too bad.
"I mean... I keep worrying..."
Keep worrying that if I give this back, you'll do what you're supposed to do with it. Like what I was about to do. Like what I knew I had to do from the beginning.
She knew what she was saying.
Keep the gun, and there'll be one less weapon that can be used on you. But it's his, and he wants it back. Give it back, and he might help you some more. But he can still use it, so there's still that risk.
Maybe she couldn't think straight about this.
Miranda's eyes scrunched, and her lips pulled back. She took a step backwards. Her grip tightened on the gun.
"I don't think... I'm not sure I can."
Miranda, he offered to help with your leg. You let him. Maybe you can trust him with this. Maybe another weapon with someone else wouldn't be too bad.
"I mean... I keep worrying..."
Keep worrying that if I give this back, you'll do what you're supposed to do with it. Like what I was about to do. Like what I knew I had to do from the beginning.
She knew what she was saying.
Keep the gun, and there'll be one less weapon that can be used on you. But it's his, and he wants it back. Give it back, and he might help you some more. But he can still use it, so there's still that risk.
Maybe she couldn't think straight about this.
Miranda moved back, out of reach, and Sebastien gritted his teeth. "Are you serious?" Miranda had watched him try to save Kasumi's life, and now she was holding Aaron's gun hostage and didn't think she could trust him. He had tried to help her too, as soon as she joined them, and she didn't think she could trust him.
It stung. No two ways around that. The things that man on the loudspeaker had said, back on the bus and for the last two mornings, had gotten under Miranda's skin and now she was freaking out.
To be precise, she's freaking out with a gun in her hand. Did I mention the gun? The gun's a pretty important part of why this is out of control.
If she couldn't trust it in his hands, after everything he had done, how in the hell was she going to expect that he would trust it in hers?
"Miranda, give. Me. The gun."
It stung. No two ways around that. The things that man on the loudspeaker had said, back on the bus and for the last two mornings, had gotten under Miranda's skin and now she was freaking out.
To be precise, she's freaking out with a gun in her hand. Did I mention the gun? The gun's a pretty important part of why this is out of control.
If she couldn't trust it in his hands, after everything he had done, how in the hell was she going to expect that he would trust it in hers?
"Miranda, give. Me. The gun."