The Paradox(es) of Heroism

[Ohm]

It didn't work. Nothing would work here. These two wouldn't budge, pretending it was all friendship when Nietzsche over there is ranting about two groups of people. One of victimhood and the other, a player.

Girl drank the kool-aid hard, didn't she?

And Elliott... if anything he'd shown himself. "She's a murderer, but she's my friend!" She had the kills, and he didn't. That spells a pretty clear picture of why he's with her.

It was a mistake. This whole thing had been one.

Elliott wanted her to leave. She didn't mind that, frankly, she wanted out of there as fast as possible to not deal with miss murder over there. But before she could...

He showed up. Gun in hand pointed right at her.

And so was his sanctimonious, preachy, revolting ranting in full force.

"And you think you are one? You look like a serial killer, and you act like one pretending to be a holy man. You talk about people deserving shit." She said, thinking over the words she was about to say, it wouldn't help her case where she stood.

But Diana didn't care.

"I wish she'd splashed some more of that in your face, cause you deserve far worse, Anthony."

[Applesintime]

Diana was shouting back at him, and oh God, was he tempted to pull the trigger. A serial killer, she called him. A holy man, she claimed he was pretending to be. He didn’t need to claim to be holy; he was following the words of the Lord. And a serial killer, oh, that was rich. Would Diana defend Seo-yun Lee if they met, despite Seo-yun having a much more valid claim towards being a serial killer? Of course she would. He was the enemy of all players, and the enemy of your enemy is your friend. The real serial killers should, would, be afraid of him, for he would kill them and deliver them unto justice.

“I am no serial killer. Leave that title to Seo-yun and Gabriela over here. I told you to get the fuck out of here, incidentally.” He shot a glare over to Gabby, stepping closer to Diana. “The only people who have anything to fear from me are those who play and murder. Like you. Like Britnee, like all I have killed with the exception of Beau; and even then, his death is attributable to the players. Like Gabby, like Gregory, like every single one of your ilk. I am the hero here. No matter what you say.” A few more steps closer towards her, past a table with burn marks on it, past a shotgun shell. And then she told him that Britnee should have thrown more of her acid in his face. Left more scars that would never fade, would never change, and he couldn’t conceal the barely-suppressed rage in his voice when he replied.

“I hope the fucking skank died in agony, like she deserved.” The only fate befitting a player was one of death and pain at the hands of a hero. And Britnee had received that fate correctly. He should shoot her now. But this was all quite informative. Players seemingly had a lot of victim complexes.

[RetroVenus]

Gabriela appeared to be grateful for Elliott-Blair's intervention, though a greater part of her seemed disappointed in him. Not for him stopping the fight, but just in general. Diana, meanwhile, didn't look convinced by his appeal to friendship, like she knew exactly what he wanted.

Neither reactions were what he hoped for. Still, his goal was to stop a gunfight from happening, and he succeeded in that, right?

A voice emerging from the other side of the room informed him that his efforts were pointless, as Anthony had gotten himself a gun.

He went on a tirade against Diana, something about how she killed someone and that Britnee deserved her death. But Elliott-Blair was fixated on what Anthony had said before his rant, something of which was directed at him and Gabriela. That they both deserved death.

Throughout his time on the flotilla, he saw how his classmates reacted to their new environment. Despite the variety of ways they handled being on America's most gruesome reality show, no one wanted him to die. Maybe in their thoughts while he stood by and did nothing, but at no point did anyone wish out loud that he was dead.

Anthony, however, just radiated pure malice. For the first time on the flotilla, someone wanted Elliott-Blair's blood on their hands.

We should go was his thought, but it wouldn't translate into words.

Gabriela took a step towards Anthony, reminding him that they were on the same team, therefore killing her wouldn't be worth it. Diana fired right back at him, calling him a serial killer. This just set him off on another rant heroes and players. And a reminder that Gabriela and Elliott-Blair should leave.

Anthony's focus on Diana let Elliott-Blair snap out of his frozen state and return to the moment. If Gabriela shot Diana, that would get him closer to the ten, but would leave them open to Anthony. If she shot him, it wouldn't count for anything, but at least they would rid themselves of this lunatic. If they did as he said and just left the scene, that would ensure their safety, but would both lose out on a target and all but guarantee that Anthony would hunt them down.

Elliott-Blair glanced over at Gabriela, silently asking what should we do?

[Ohm]

He was stepping closer, finger hovering over the trigger. He'd caught Diana unaware, and she could not turn for fear of that trigger getting pulled, and she could not count on Gabriela giving any cover fire at him. If she was smart she'd leave with Elliott immediately, but Gabriela was not smart. She had the delusion that she was, but she was just a nihilist.

No, those two would have to be out of mind for now; Anthony was here, and he hadn't learned from their last encounter. He was still trying to justify everything. Every drop of blood on his part and how much of it remained on his hands. Diana could not get through to him, that was obvious enough, but she could do something else.

Get him closer.

"Yeah, that sure makes you sound stable, doesn't it?" She said while giving a look back with her left eye at him, a wry smile on her face.

"Why don't you start quoting bible passages at me while you're at it? I'd love to hear you use our lord's name in vain some more."

[Applesintime]

Gabby was still just standing there gormlessly, like a fucking idiot. Elliot was also standing there like a fucking idiot; how in the name of God had they killed three people? And Diana was just smirking at him, as if she wasn’t facing a gun. Insinuating that he wasn’t a real Christian, as if he was just pulling Bible verses out of his asshole and waving them around like he’d just found the Holy Grail. Bitch.

“He’s not your fucking Lord. He’d never defend a player. Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image. You may not have shed blood, but you both intended to. And for that, I killed her, and I will kill you. It’s the right thing to do.” Anthony spat out angrily, walking closer towards her.

He only realised he was too close to her when it was too late, and hands wrapped around the barrel of his gun.

[Ohm]

He was getting closer and closer. Step after step. Words spewing out like an open faucet. Face curbed with barely restrained rage that he always struggled to keep shut about.

Even before he decided the world was sinful; and how he needed to get rid of its "killers". Diana knew about Anthony. Who didn't? Anyone unfortunate to cross paths with him on a bad day would get a mouthful over the show.

She'd seen him do it; she'd heard him do it. How anyone didn't deck him for it for so long was a mystery to her.

But what wasn't was how easy it was to work with these kinds of people. A few words here and an expression there, and they'd be running right onto your palm.

Or this case, walking onto it. Anthony's focus was off, speech taking too much of his mind away. Doing what she asked of him, talking about Jesus and the bible as if he had the right to do so.

"If he's not mine, then he's sure not yours." She said out loud before letting go of her gun, and it fell to the ground with a bang as she swiveled around and grabbed the barrel with both hands.

[Applesintime]

Oh, for fuck’s sake. He had been walking - quite literally - into a trap. Diana had been taunting him, luring him in like a siren, and as quick as she could her hands had wrapped around his gun and wrenched the barrel sideways. Her gun had also gone off as she dropped it, sending a flash of smoke up to them, aggravating his lungs and making him cough like a fish out of water. He couldn’t shoot her now, not when the gun wasn’t even pointing at her. And if he let it go to try to grab his shiv or something, she’d just bloody shoot him. Fucking player.

Trying not to pull the trigger accidentally, Anthony tried his best to pull the gun out of her grip. She wasn’t particularly strong - at least, she wasn’t like, say, Ivan or Lucia in terms of muscle - but that didn’t matter, because she could still win this deadly tug of war, pull the gun, whip it around and end him prematurely, no matter how strong she was. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Not yet, not when there were still so many players, when Seo-yun, when Fisk, when Ivan were still alive, were yet to receive justice.

“Let fucking go!” Anthony spat, his face flushing red with exertion and anger. He just needed a little more pull, a little more strength, and he’d be able to rip it from her grasp and finish this.

[Ohm]

A shot rang out, and underneath that sound was the clang of her gun hitting the floor. Smoke billowed upwards towards and around them. Diana coughed and wheezed as she made like an iron grip on Anthony's gun. Her ears rang, and her eyes were almost closed shut as the smoke got in her eyes. Her eyes were still irritated from yesterday.

She pulled from one side to another, trying to keep him from firing it at her in the melee, at the same time, trying to wrench it from his hands. But his grip was as fierce as hers, and it turned into a back-and-forth between them. Push and pull, side to side.

It wrenched upwards, pulling them closer. Diana could hear his breathing, feel it, as both of them stood closer. Her breathing mixed with his as her chest heaved, and the inside hurt.

"Never!" She screamed, shrill and angry. With adrenaline and an opportunistic pull giving her the chance she needed. An instinctive knee raised towards him.

[Applesintime]

Everything had been going so well. At some point, the gun had wrenched upwards, and they were face to face - Anthony could see the hate, the anger in this player's eyes. Her hateful rage towards him, matched with his righteous anger. A being of pure hate, of malice, that wanted to do nothing but destroy and murder and kill anyone good. Just a little more pulling, and her grip would have been broken. But then a sudden tug caused him to stumble closer to her, her knee raised, and then for the fourth individual fucking time, Anthony Golden was kneed or kicked in the balls.

With a pained gasp, Anthony let go of the gun and crumpled to his knees, the shock going through his body overwhelming anything else. And then he realised. Diana had the gun. She was going to kill him. He was dead. The shockwave of fear this sent through him was unlike anything. It wasn't similar to how he felt when he got shot the first time, no. It was so much more different. It was despair. It was agony. It was a quiet rage, knowing that she probably wouldn't receive righteous justice for this. Nor would Seo-yun, nor would Ivan or Fisk or any of the fucking players receive any justice for their acts. This was it. It was game over, and accepting that brought something new to the forefront of his mind.

Martyrdom. Diana would make him a martyr for the anti-SOTF cause, and that was his ultimate fate. God's plan. He accepted the position, staring up at her defiantly, one hand cupping his balls, the other fiddling with his mum's crucifix. See you soon, Mum. Beau. Giselle. Everyone good.

[Catche Jagger]

Two would-be heroes tangled with one another, both certain of their moral rightness. Anthony was the more deluded of the two, likely owing to whatever inbred old English line his dull seed had the misfortune of sprouting from, but Diana was not much better, something that shone through in his inability to handle himself in the face of this diminished Diana.

It was the perfect scenario, in a way. Anthony would be put down and wouldn’t be able to fuck things up for Gabriela going forward, and Diana would be left distracted, an easy target to be picked off once she’d finished off that minor annoyance.

And so Gabriela stood, silently watching as Anthony, the mighty player hunter, was brought to his knees by some tired and sick looking girl. All she needed to do was wait, and two birds would be handled with but one shot fired on her part.

Gabriela repeated the thought again and again, arm tensing up as she did.

And yet the pistol still moved from its place at her side, pointing towards Diana. She could taste nothing but bitterness when she pulled the trigger and three shots fired off.

[Ohm]

He was down for the count. Grip lost, and the gun was hers. Fingers clenching the handle as she swiftly turned the gun around on him. In a moment, their roles had reversed, just as she had planned.

She was going to do it. She was going to make sure Anthony never hurt another person- killed another person, ever again. There would never be another scenario with someone like Brit, an innocent that just wanted to do good. No one else to be ruined by someone who had lost it days ago and had been running on his own fumes.

This was it.

"For Britnee." She said before the fire erupted.

Diana McIntyre: Deceased

Shots rang out across the room. Three to be exact. One flew over her shoulder. One made contact with her arm, and the last nailed Diana in the side of the head. Small involuntary steps are taken as the last bit of neurons from the brain through to the body. Her head was slumped to the right, her mouth glazed open and her bloodshot eyes took a last blink before staring outwardly. Her left arm despite the shot to it, still clung to the gun's handle with a fierce grip. Though, it went limp to her side.

One of those steps caused the left leg to get caught on Anthony and made the body fall forward on top of him. Blood seeping down the side of her head.

[Applesintime]

Anthony stared up at Diana, looking into the barrel of the gun. His dick hurt. His face hurt. This was it. Everything had led up to this moment. His martyrdom. He would be murdered by a madwoman with a gun. And that was what God’s plan was, like Jesus being crucified. Evil may win over good in the real world, but in His Kingdom, the good would live in paradise, and the evil would burn in hell forever. His eyes glared into hers, smouldering with rage.

Do it.

Make me a fucking martyr.

Deliver me unto God.

"For Britnee." And she was burning in hell, while Anthony would live in paradise forever. They always said your life flashed before your eyes, right before you died. Whoever coined that one must have been lying, Anthony thought. And then a gun cracked three times in rapid succession. A bullet hit her in the arm. Another one hit her right in the head, and Anthony watched a spray of brain matter, skull fragments and blood spew out of the exit wound. Diana crumpled on top of Anthony, and his martydom was torn away from him as the gun fell to the floor. Kicking Diana off him, Anthony scrambling to pick his rifle up, clutching it to him like a mother to its baby. He looked to the source of the gunshots. Gabby.

Gabby had saved him. A player, saving a player hunter. How odd. Why would she do that? Surely she didn’t care about the one common thing that united them, the bandana around their arm and their shared mentor. Anthony didn’t care. Ivan didn’t care. Nobody seemed to care. And yet, inexplicably, Gabby had seemingly cared enough about teams to save him. Maybe an act of God had just taken place, Gabby’s trigger finger slipped and that was enough to save his life. No. You don't slip three times in succession. She had saved him, and Anthony didn't give a fuck why. Really.

Scrambling to his feet – slowly, Anthony glanced over at her, using the De Lisle as a crutch to pick himself up, because unsurprisingly, his balls hurt. The gun wasn’t drawn on Gabby. Anthony didn’t feel like she needed the threat. God, what the fuck had happened? A player had saved him - he had threatened her for fuck’s sake! Maybe she didn’t consider him her enemy, even though he considered her his? He felt odd, to be honest. Like something had happened that just shouldn’t. Like, for example, he had bit into an apple and tasted an orange. Dogs sleeping with cats. All the shit that shouldn’t happen.

Slipping Diana’s bag from her shoulders and picking up her flintlock - because any gun denied to a player is a victory, and besides, having a backup gun in case the De Lisle jammed or something would be pretty useful - Anthony turned towards Gabby. He had said he didn’t care. But he couldn’t deny he was curious.

“Why?”

[RetroVenus]

Diana shouted at Anthony, Anthony shouted at Diana, and nothing was being done.

Elliott-Blair had to wonder what Diana's plan was, riling up Anthony like that. At this point, his just going to riddle her with bullets, making sure no one can recognize her corpse. But he didn't fire, electing to step closer to her, close enough that she could reach out and grab the barrel...

...Which is exactly what she did. Oh, she knew what she was doing.

Diana dropped her gun, causing it discharge and for Elliott-Blair to reflexively duck. A tug-of-war had begun; Diana trying to wrench the rifle out of Anthony's hands, while he held on for dear life. The gun was pulled upwards, bringing them closer together — and she inadvertently kneed him in the crotch. Elliott-Blair inwardly winced. That action did cause Anthony to slip from his hold, and Diana turned the damn thing on him.

This was the best possible outcome. Diana was about to shoot Anthony, who had proven himself to be a liability, a mad dog that needed to be put down. Then Gabriela could shoot her, thus getting a kill without wasting bullets on someone who couldn't contribute to the total. Gabriela seemed to realize this too, for she raised her gun and aimed at Diana.

And then she fired off three shots before Diana could pull the trigger.

One missed, one in her arm, one right in the head. Diana stumbled, then fell on top of Anthony, who quickly kicked her off and scrambled for his gun. Using the rifle as a crutch, he stood up and stared at Gabriela. A moment passes, and he wordlessly turns to rummage through Diana's daypack, brain matter squelching and bones cracking underfoot. He turns again to Gabriela, his looked of confusion even more pronounced, as he asks her why.

The same question Elliott-Blair had on his mind. Why didn't she wait until Diana fired? Anthony was dangerous to keep around, right? Maybe it was that spiteful look he had as Diana was about to shoot, setting her off. Maybe her finger slipped, three times in succession. Whatever.

There was an unasked question that hung around them, what happens now?

[Catche Jagger]

Gabriela didn’t have an answer, or rather she didn’t have a good one. It wasn’t a choice she’d come to through some careful deliberation. Saving Anthony was a matter of hesitation and the momentum that followed, a situation now made even more annoying by Anthony’s failure to leave as soon as possible.

Frustration built and boiled within her when she heard him ask his inane little question. “Why?” As if his salvation needed to be part of some grand design and not just another little fuckup. It meant nothing, though a religious nut would never get that.

She stared at him in silence for a moment longer.

“Why?” Gabriela’s anger threw the question back at Anthony, tone harsh, condescending. “Why didn’t you fucking shoot Diana when you had the fucking advantage? Before any of us even knew you were fucking here?” It should have ended there, but more vexations poured forth in a wave.

“You fucking blew your opening so you could get up and fucking preach at everyone like some perfect little martyr. Fuck off! If you gave a shit about any of this you’d take the advantage like that. At least then I wouldn’t have to save your pathetic little-!”

[Applesintime]

Anthony looked past her. He didn't hear her ranting at him about how stupid he was. About how he should have taken the advantage. No, Anthony looked at Gabriela and saw only one thing.

A player. Who had just killed. And would kill again.

"Fuck up." Anthony interrupted, shouldering the De Lisle, aiming it at Gabriela and pulling the trigger.