Dogma

[Applesintime]

((Anthony Golden continued from It All Fades Away))

Anthony ran through the guts of the ship for a while, until he was certain that Amanda wouldn’t follow him, that nobody was waiting for him to let his guard down so they could pounce on him and rip him to shreds. The creaking of the ship and all the noises didn’t help with the paranoia. Eventually, he settled down, taking a deep breath and looking around the hallway he had found himself in. Not much, but there was a body a little further down. It smelt like shit. Letting go of the rifle and letting it hang loosely from his body, Anthony hiked the collar of his shirt over his nose and crept towards the body. Mateo Ormeño. He had a nasty gash in his chest and his collar had popped. Wasn’t a nice sight, but apart from the smell, it didn’t phase him much anymore. Seeing dead bodies was just part and parcel at this point.

“Don’t worry buddy. I avenged you.” Did he? What Leah said came to mind, despite how much he had tried to forget about it. Pippi smacked him in the head with her baton accidentally because she was panicking, and she had seen someone get set on fire, and it was all one big accident that led to someone dying alone and probably afraid. But if it was an accident, can you avenge someone for that? An uncomfortable sensation had made its way into his head. Combine that with what Nadine had revealed, about how she was no player, that her one kill had been comparable to his first, and that painted a very bad picture of him. It wasn’t an accurate picture, though.

Was it?

Was it justice if you went around killing people based on false assumptions? Anthony didn’t know. He could justify RJ, Luciano, Britnee, because they had attacked him. But then he had attacked RJ first. He had attacked Luciano first. And, like, he had sort of started that whole confrontation with Diana and Britnee. This was painting a picture, concluding in a way that he didn’t like at all. He needed to talk to someone. Ben. He didn’t know if he’d even be willing to, what with the shooting his teammates and all that, but he just needed to hear someone else’s voice.

Ducking into a sideroom, something more akin to a closet than a room, Anthony tapped at his collar. “Ben, you there?” Please be there.

[Rattlesnake]

"You're an absolute fuckup, I hope you know that.

"Looks like you're havin' a moment, so I'll stick this in your pipe. You know those old stories where someone gets, like, not just regular karmic cursed but super karmic cursed? The really bad ones are always 'cuz someone broke laws of hospitality. You know, you drank my water, you ate my salt, you, you, you, fuckin' I dunno, fished my saltwater, and now we're bros. It's 'cuz back in the good old days when you got buried at Super Weenie Hut Jr Memorial if you didn't keel over from somethin' sharp where it don't belong, the only real comfort you ever got was when someone was watchin' your six. Take that away, that's the biggest and last disappointment someone ever felt."

[Applesintime]

What the fuck was Ben talking about? Like, telling him he was a fuckup, you got the general tone from that, he was mad because Anthony kept shooting at his teammates, but then he was going on about karma and fishing saltwater and Super Weenie Hut Jr Memorial, and it sort of distracted Anthony from feeling sorry about himself because he was trying to parse whatever the fuck Ben was trying to make a point of. Was he trying to make a point about how it was good to have someone watching over you, and then how it was bad to have someone not watching over you? If so, he had done so in the weirdest fucking way possible. Had he taken one too many trips to the minibar? Suffered a severe blow to the head between the morning and now? Was he having a stroke?

"Ben, first off, what the fuck are you talking about? If you have a point to make, can you, like, make it in a way that it doesn't take thirty minutes for me to process your thorough fucking of the English language? Cheers." Perhaps a little irritated, but calling someone an absolute fuckup tended to get that response from them. He was sort of thrown off, because like, what the fuck was he trying to say? Jesus Christ, he'd rather have a cheery conversation with Fisk and Seo-yun and Ivan about how fun it was to murder people than try and untangle that clusterfuck of words.

"Second, uh, I've been thinking. About what, like, Nadine and Leah and Mary and all the rest said, and, uhh... I dunno. Pippi wasn't necessarily a player, y'know? She accidentally hit someone and fucked them up, because she was panicking about the fire. Nadine wasn't even a fucking player, she just, she did a Beau with Marion. And, y'know, I've been trying to push that down, to forget about it and go on with my holy mission of going around killing people 'cause they, what, fucking breathed in my presence? But I can't fucking shake it. I dunno. It's a bit of a hard pill to swallow, the idea that I'm not the fucking good guy I talked myself up to be, that I'm what I fucking hate." While he was here, maybe he should make good use of his time. Pulling out Diana's pistol and the instruction manual to load it, Anthony squinted at the manual in the dim light.

"How the fuck..." Anthony shrugged, pulling out the million different things that he needed. Christ, he wished he could have taken Gabby's pistol. Measure out 100 grains of powder - 100 grams? - chuck it in the gun, do the wad and the bullet, ram it in... "But it's not like I can stop now. Half this fucking cruise ship's going to be gunning for me. I've pissed off a lot of people, killed a lot of people's friends. Let's see, uh... Ivan, Fisk and his fuckers, Seo-yun for starters. Matias, Luanne, Gabby and her little boyfriend. Leah and Mary probably aren't going to be on the best of terms with me. Amanda, too. Olivia and Lucia. Anyone who sees me and thinks that oh, he's got five, maybe six kills, better off him before he offs us. I told you, I'd continue down this path until the bitter end, and I'm sticking to that. Doesn't make me a player. More of a survivor." That was a hollow excuse, and Anthony knew that. Ben probably knew that. His friends back in London knew that, but they weren't watching.

Put the primer and shit in the pan, lock it all in place, pull the hammer back and you're done. He tucked the gun into his pocket, handle upwards, in case he needed to pull it suddenly. Having a backup gun could be essential. "I dunno Ben, what do you think?"

[Rattlesnake]

"Alright, so we're havin' a different kinda moment than I was expecting, but maybe, just maybe we can work with this.

"Let's get down to some straight shit, then. Fuck Pippi. You did a good thing. And I think maybe you're thinking twice about it 'cuz it's the first time you bothered thinking about it. Now think a little more, what's the alternative? Someone out there who might kill another Crab, might help someone that might kill a Crab, might fire back when they're targeted and put a Crab out of commission. Point is, everyone who ain't a Crab is dead at the end of this, and the sooner than happens, the more of you can make it out.

"You asked me before if I thought you were a good guy. And I asked you if you thought you'd come after me if I were in your season. Second things first, I think you would, and I'd return the favor, and no hard feelings about that at all. And for the first question... I think you're just a guy. Like, I jumped on a girl and sliced her apart and shot her in the fuckin' dome once. I was a bad guy to her, for sure. But I was a good guy to myself. And if I'd had teammates, I'd have been a good guy to them, too. I'll live with that. Other people not in my life any more can't. It's complicated, yeah?

"So what I'm getting at here - straight shit, heh - is keep blastin' away at anyone who is not on the fuckin' Crabs. That's how you get the most GoOd PeOpLe out of this. Or, you know, the most people. That all make sense?"

[Applesintime]

"You're still obsessed with this Crab thing, aren't you." Anthony let out a chuckle, shaking his head. Was he really still going on about that? "Ben, I lied. Is that not bloody obvious by now? I forgot the part where shooting at my teammates was like, letting them live." It felt good, to be honest. To tell him the truth. "You don't just get to act all friendly to me right after calling me an absolute fuck up, you know that, Ben?" A slight edge crept into Anthony's tone, a little anger. "Maybe Pippi would have done that, maybe she wouldn't have. I doubt she would have if what Leah said is true. If what Luanne said is true. And what would she shoot a Crab with? She had no gun, otherwise Luanne would have shot me with it long ago." Breathe in, breath out. "I don't think I did a good thing. Maybe to someone who's brain is addled with America's favourite snuff films, maybe I did. But I don't think I did. And that what's I have to live with." Another deep breath. Fists clenching, unclenching.

"But that wasn't what you were getting at, Ben.

"You were talking about betrayal. About someone not watching your six. I don't fucking know what you were getting at, and I doubt you're going to tell me now. I don't know if you've got it, Ben, so let me spell it out to you: I don't give two fucking shits about the other people on my team. Matias would shoot me on sight. Gabby tried to kill Beau and would also shoot me on sight. Gregory, funnily enough, also tried to kill Beau. I couldn't do anything to save him, but I can avenge him as best as I can. I couldn't fucking save Hannah. I couldn't kill Eric and avenge Cassini. But I can kill Hannah's killer, kill anyone who tried to murder Beau." Deep breath. The sarcasm in Ben's tone, talking about GoOd PeOpLe, fuelled a fire in him. One that was threatening to envelop him in a rage.

"That's all I can do. That's what I will do. No matter what anyone says."

[Rattlesnake]

"You know, like, six o'clock? Behind you? Kids these days not know what a fuckin' analogue is? Teammates, Anthony. Like, you can't close your eyes without worrying about a bullet smashin' in between 'em? Gee, I wonder how you could have prevented that."

The voice from Anthony's collar begins to pick up in speed and volume with a very slight quaver to it.

"Did you know crabs don't have brains? They're really just big, wet spiders. So get this through your fuckin' ganglia, you overgrown insect: You're a weapon. I don't give a fuck about your quest, I just wanted to shoot you off somewhere since you seemed happy to keep making elbow room until you died trying. And whoever you ended up hitting, surely you wouldn't be so dense to aim yourself at a teammate, right? I can forgive a lot 'cuz, you know, but I guess the ancient Aiel or whatever the fuck were right. You deserve every moment of terror wondering who's gonna shank you if you round the wrong corner or try to catch a wink of sleep."

There is a soft throat-clearing noise, and the voice flattens out completely.

"You understand who's saying that, right? It's something I thought I wouldn't wish on anyone. But if you wanna whine about pissing off Seo-yun, I don't think you even know what you're trying to do. So, you know, if you can't be useful any more, then the 'die trying' part of your plan might tie some things up nicely."

[Applesintime]

“You know, Ben,” Anthony began, his jaw tightening, “if crabs have no brains, then it’s no fucking wonder you’re the bloody king of them, cause you have absolutely fucking nothing up there, you daft cunt.” He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “When I was fucking going on about hunting players and all that shit, you really thought I’d just fucking let some murderous twat go just because we shared the same bandana? No, I’d fucking pop the bastard and think nothing more of it. I’m not all mouth and trousers, Ben.”

What a fucking bastard. Acting like he was in control the whole time. No. Anthony was in control. He was tired of being selfless. Of doing things for others. Of acting like he was a paragon of justice. Maybe being selfish wasn’t a moral thing. This whole show wasn’t a moral thing. He didn’t care. Rage was steadily building up, steadily dripping into his brain like water from a leaky roof in a thunderstorm.

“Maybe I’m a weapon, Ben. I’m not just one you fire and forget about, though. I have a little nasty habit of ricochetting and ending right back in your fucking back. The only person I’m making room for is me. I’ve got a bag of kills already; what difference does a few more make? See, in this magazine I’ve got what, three, four bullets?” Anthony tapped the end of the gun against the nearest camera, perched on the top of the doorframe in the closet. “One for Gabby. One for Matias. One for Gregory. One for the other one. And then I reload, and one more for the last one on this team. And then it’s just me going home, awoh?”

“I know what I’m doing, Ben. Going home. And if I don’t end up going home, then I’m going to make sure nobody on this team goes home, either, just to say fuck you. If I die, so fucking be it.”

Climbing out of the closet, Anthony started to walk, keeping the rifle close. Just in case someone walked by.

“You see, Ben, for most people, they’ve got two ways of winning, right? Get the ten or be the last one standing. Not for me, though. I have a few more. I kill Seo-yun, I win. I kill Fisk, I win. I kill Ivan? I motherfucking win. And now you’ve just given me a new way to win: kill every other Crab.”

“The only terror anyone’s going to feel is the terror when death claims them, Ben.”

“So you better tell them to fucking run, Benjamin.”

[Rattlesnake]

"Absolute fuckin' wizard move. Set up all the goalposts you can, let them march a little closer so you never have to face your failure head-on. Let another day pass, let Seo-yun get her ninth, get her tenth, get out of there, sit back and watch things dwindle until you can shoot the last Crab in the back. I'll be so fuckin' embarrassed over your victory after that when all the chips are down and one of your good people turns player and you're choking on your own blood trying to convince yourself it's what you wanted all along.

"You wanna impress the disembodied voice around your neck so much, try growing a spine. Might not have a lot of time left for it, but I'm sure that won't be difficult for the kid who just came to me crying over hurting some murderer's feelings two minutes ago."

[Applesintime]

"Have you been listening to a bloody thing I've been saying, or has your number fetish only let you listen to every third word? Ben, I don't give a shit about good or bad or whatever. The way I see it, everyone's going to be gunning for me. Good people, bad people, whatever. I have one route off this flotilla, and that's to keep going. Keep killing. Players, innocents, whatever. Maybe it's not the morally right thing to do, but-"

Wait.

"Ninth? She's on sev- oh, for fuck's sake. Doesn't matter. I'll get her sooner or later. Doesn't detract from my point. All that talk about bad and good shit, maybe that was just a way for me to, to fucking get myself a way off this dumb fucking boat! It doesn't matter. When I'm safe, when I'm not fucking in danger from madwomen with guns and a merry band of fuckwits led by a psychopath, I can have a little sit down and think about the moral ramifications of my actions!"

Maybe he had done wrong. Maybe he had effectively turned into a player. Nadine and Leah and Mary and his own rhetoric blended together into one fucked-up philosophy. But that was this game's fault. Maybe his own. Maybe Ben and Jewel and whoever else was mentoring's fault. For good or worse, he had set himself down the path of killing to victory. Six under the belt already. He couldn't take that back, and he doubted anyone would take his apologies sincerely. So he had to keep going, keep killing.

"Even if I wished I could stop going down that path, Ben, I committed to it what, a day or two ago, when I beat a girl's head in with a 2x4. When I axed a guy in the chest. Threw acid into another girl's face. Shot another girl in the head. Stabbed a boy." Maybe he was just passing the buck. Maybe, deep down, he had been looking for an excuse to play.

Well, he had one now.

[Rattlesnake]

"All that and you have the gall to give a single fuck about what I think a' your little crusade?

"Look. I don't need, don't need, I don't fuckin' need a cunt hair's more explanation of what your defect is, kid. I've looked more interesting people than you in the eye as I pinned them to the ground and slit their fucking throats. Technically only one person for that specific case, but that's kind of a lot if you think about it. Which I just realized you're not capable of, so scratch that. Any rate, I didn't sit around wondering why puppies and rainbows didn't come spilling out. Now, if you're so determined to keep your head in fantasy land, you can go ahead and see if you can spy a single tale where the dude called 'Kinslayer' or 'Oathbreaker' is the good guy, yeah? Report's due tomorrow, but if you can't attend, you can get full credit by choking out a number rating of how much it feels like winning as the light leaves your eyes for one last time.

"Anyways, I just remembered I need to go dig a hole in my back yard and fill it back up with dirt, so have fun being totally fuckin' alone while I'm occupied with something more impor-"

The voice cuts cleanly, with no trace of static or stuttering.

[Applesintime]

Ben was, as Anthony could tell, totally not fucked up in the head. Totally not some kind of psychopath. But eh, didn't matter. Anthony had no need for him anymore. All he needed was to keep walking, keep going down this path that he was going down. All this going on about Kinslayer and reporting and puppies and throats and whatever the fuck he was talking about? Wasn't listening to it in the slightest.

"Three words, Ben, considering that's your speciality. That's all I wanna say.

"Go.

"Fuck.

"Yourself."

((Anthony Golden continued in A Prelude to Despair))