This Confession Has Meant Nothing

[ItzToxie]

No.


No, no, no, no, no, no, no-

[ItzToxie]

NO.




NO!!!

[ItzToxie]

Before he could even get a chance to scream through the hose, the surge of water began forcing it's way down his throat, silencing any protests before any could escape. Immediately, Fisk began to feel two things, one was his heart rate skyrocketing, and the second was what felt like an ice cold fist punch it's way down his throat down into his guts and push outwards. His body reacted accordingly, trying to wretch out the foreign object, his body spasming and pushing, but nothing went up, just down.

His eyes snapped closed in shock as his hand reached for his throat, as his neck bulged around the collar in a way that looked unnatural and grotesque. His hand reached for the hose, and Fisk was reminded he only had his middle, ring, and pinkie fingers left upon a hand with a shorn thumb and forefinger. Still he grasped, but against Ivan's grip, it was futile. He couldn't breath, he was being choked, he was-

Fisk couldn't even breath in water as his esophagus was stretched so tight. Anything going through was going down into his guts. The corners of his eyes pounded as he suffocated, an unfamiliar pain filling him-

In an act of fast thinking, Fisk brought his metal brogue up between Ivan's leg, knocking him off of Fisk. His hand punched at the hose knocking it out of his jaw as it sprayed him point blank in the face, cleaning the coat of red off so everyone could see the panic he felt. He rolled to his side, choking, sputtering, and puking a clear pale red fluid, like a straw of koolaid powder poured into a gallon of water. He crawled to his knees, puking again, staining the bloodied collar of his shirt with a new coat of clear pink.

He glanced to his left and right, and saw salvation. Fuck this, he wasn't dying here, not like this, not that way.

Fisk crawled on his hand and knees towards the outer railing of the cruise liner, dislocated arm flopping limply behind him. He'll take his chances with gravity and the fish below.

~Every time I see you falling
I get down on my knees and pray
I'm waiting for that final moment
You say the words that I can't say~

[carduinal-cyn]

Olivia reloaded Tenga just in case, only for her eyes to fix themselves on what was left of Fisk Bateman. Worse than merely tasting a shotgun barrel, Ivan had seen fit to force the hose down the bastard's throat. It was almost a miracle he'd survived. Puking vile salmon-colored fluid and missing too many fingers for comfort, the coward was turning tail, crawling to wherever his dying limbs could drag his body. Olivia had half a mind to put the poor thing out of his misery.

She raced forward, trying to intercept Fisk's path before he could escape. Tenga was thrust into his face the minute she gained ground. Her eyes glowered down at the dead man walking. With the watery blood trailing down his foul mouth and the animalistic terror etched into his face, he looked just like a zombie.

Undead or not, of course, he'd meet his end soon enough.

[ItzToxie]

"Nno-, no." Fisk whined, his voice a barely audible whisper.

"Outta the way, shoot me; err outta the way..."

[The Honeless Beard]

Whirr, whirr.

Pad, pad, pad, pad.

Ivan closed the distance. The hose reel had plenty of slack.

Whirr, whirr.

Pad, pad, pad, pad.

The begging was barely audible through the speakers of the radio.

Whirr, whirr.

Pad, pad, pad, pad.

The sound effects of a boy's dying call.

Whirr, whirr.

Pad, pad, pad, pad.

Ivan was above Fisk, pathetic, pleading. He gripped the boy's shoulder, yanked him on his back.

"No, no," Ivan murmured, dropping his knees on each of Fisk's shoulders, fresh blood dripping from Fisk's wound to his thigh, "you're almost there. Almost there."

He kept his voice light, soothing, as the hose slammed back into Fisk's mouth, deep towards his throat, the sound, the feeling, of teeth scraping against metal, yielding and cracking against the rough iron as the hose pushed deep and deep and deep, scraping against the sides of Fisk's mouth and throat, blood pooling from the seal his lips made around it and trickling down his cheeks. Ivan's grip was as taught as the iron, his eyes falling impassive, dull, dead.

He engaged the hose again, dragged a thumbnail against the F in his forehead - one final time.

As he held it steady, Ivan pressed their foreheads together, eyes watching Fisk's as the hose sputtered, went tight, and jerked with the pressure of the water.

[ItzToxie]

"N-n-no, no no no!" Hand gripped his shoulder as he pleaded his case with Olivia with what little time he had. Pleaded with Ivan too. "K-kill me then! Don't do this! Just kill me! DON'T DO THIS!-" With one ruined hand, he feebly tried to push back against Ivan, and only bought himself enough time to whine one final time as the hose traveled down his throat.

~I feel fine and I feel good
I'm feeling like I never should
Whenever I get this way
I just don't know what to say
Why can't we be ourselves like we were yesterday?~

Fisk was silent, dead silent as before, as he thrashed, the only sounds being the scrape of his brogues against the deck, and the feint whoosh of water coursing through his body. The nausea formed again, Fisk's spasmotic dry heaves matching the pulse of water filling him, liter by liter, gallon by gallon as more and more space was being filled in Fisk's guts. It tried to travel backwards, filling his cheeks and ejecting out his nose, as his arm flailed and grasped- pushing against Ivan's head, trying to slap him in the ear, trying to claw him away. The hand palmed at Ivan's chin as Fisk silently danced on Death's floor, legs scrambling for leverage, for waning strength his stretching body didn't have any more.

Fisk could feel his shirt and vest grow tighter and tighter, as the growing sickness filling him began to stretch and warp as he did into pain, the barely audible whoosh of water growing louder within him, reaching a crescendo only he and someone right in his face could hear. *Gnk-gnnnnnnNRRRRRSSSSSssssh*

Fisk's eyes widened in protest and pain as he felt, and heard his guts burst within him. He dug his nails into Ivan's face.

[Applesintime]

Kneeling down by Fisk’s head, Anthony reached in and gently pinched Fisk’s nose shut. Didn’t want that water to go to waste, after all.

[The Honeless Beard]

Rivulets of skin and blood carving down his face, joining the scratch that throbbed in his forehead, but he did not move his eyes.

A sound, like a water balloon bursting inside of a closet, reaching his ears and echoing in his brain, a vivid picture with pinks and reds, but he did not move his eyes.

Fisk swelling, tears forming in his face, the small stream of pressure broken from his lips squirting back onto Ivan's neck and chest, but he did not move his eyes.

He needed to see.

He needed to watch.

Ivan pressed down harder, fought the current of the hose as Fisk swelled beneath him, knees pressing harder on Fisk's shoulders. A pair of fingers pinched Fisk's nose shut, and Ivan didn't even look.

"Drink up," Ivan panted, "drink up."

[ItzToxie]

Silently shrieking, Fisk flailed underneath Ivan and Anthony as they crowded around him, watching him blow up like some Hannah Barbara cartoon gag. This wasn't real, none of this could be happening. All his plans, all that hard work, everything he's done, the people he's lost, the ants he's wasted, it couldn't add up to this! He couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, and yet he couldn't die, he was stuck, trapped, stretching and tearing from within, every rib popping out of place one by one from the pressure another reminder that; yes, this was real.

~I'm not sure what this could mean
I don't think you're what you seem
I do admit to myself
That if I hurt someone else
Then I'll never see just what we're meant to be~

The New Order playing in the background did little to mask the sounds of his stretching epidermis, ease the pain, and erase the mockery that was unfolding. Fisk could feel his belt loop cutting into his beach ball sized midsection as a suspender broke away under his vest, the water moving up, down, left, right, everywhere. His hand alternated from hovering over his throat, pressed out in two bulges over the bomb collar, or swinging aimlessly at Ivan and Anthony, grasping at the hose that was killing him, flaying him internally, peeling skin from muscle from bone as liquified intestines sloshed around within the swirling mass.

Buttons began popping off of his outfit, his vest, his blouse, his trousers, as water filled every square inch of his body, a creaking unlike a semi-truck tire crunching on asphalt beginning to drone in over Bizarre Love Triangle.

~Every time I see you falling
I get down on my knees and pray
I'm waiting for that final moment
You say the words that I can't say~

His shaking arm forced to his side as the water began to tear through his bicep, his twitching legs clanking his brogues along the ground like the ring ring ring of a bicycle bell.

[Applesintime]

He looked like he was gonna pop, and Anthony didn’t want Fisk juice all over him. Letting go of his nose, he made to move behind the nearest support pillar.

He was interested in whatever the fuck the autopsy report for this was gonna be. How do you put down ‘inflated and then blown up like a fucking balloon some kid stepped on’ in official terms?

[The Honeless Beard]

Fisk had the words, when they'd met previous. Fisk was a talker, even when they'd fought the first time, before Fisk had robbed him of everything he had and demanded even more. Fisk had taken his dignity, his shoes, his features, and left him with a blown up brain and a darkening eyesight that still occasionally drifted to the left. Fisk had destroyed every piece of him, and here he was.

Rapidly expanding. Erupting on the big screen. Making a splash in a big way.

But Fisk had been the talker, and Ivan had been more of a do-er. Ivan had been the one to sneak up on every single member of Fisk's gang. Ivan had won his duels. Throughout everything, Fisk had been nothing but hot air, and Ivan...

Ivan had been nothing, either. This wasn't a praiseworthy thing. He wasn't some early season 'hero' that had beaten the odds and destroyed the mould for those who came after. Nobody would be talking about 'pulling an Ivan'. He wasn't getting the hero edit.

But he could be the person that made Fisk blow up on the silver screen. He could ensure that Fisk made a splash.

Ivan grunted with effort, and dialled the nozzle all the way to full.

[carduinal-cyn]

"Oh, fuck—"

Olivia shut her eyes and held Tenga out in front of her like a shield. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn't going to be pretty...

[ItzToxie]

Somehow, despite all that he endured, Fisk Bateman was still alive. Despite the various cuts, bruises, and beatings he'd experienced, he'd lived up to this point. Despite his stomach and intestines being basically evaporated, he still lived. Despite his heart and lungs being crushed up to his shoulders by water pressure, he still lived. Despite his body being stretched three to four times it's original size, even rivaling Junji by width, Fisk still lived. Despite his skin growing transparent, and his car crash scars splitting at the seams, spouts opening up between the scars on his orange sized cheeks, Fisk still lived.

~Every time I see you falling
I get down on my knees and pray
I'm waiting for that final moment
You say the words that I can't say~

Even worse, he was concious through the whole thing, forced to watch through blurry eyes as his body was torn apart in front of him. His dream torn apart in front of him, his friends, his goal, everything.

Well... Almost everything. And then there was a final sound, like a giant water bottle shifting in place, followed by more holes forming in his stretched taut form. The worst part was Fisk saw it coming. The End.

And it was more terrifying than he could ever imagine.

Fisk snapped his eyes shut, and with his last coherent thought, he damned Ivan, Olivia, and Anthony for doing this to him.

I hope you all catch bloodborne illnesses you fucking-


And then everything was torn apart with the strength of an exploding tire.

[ItzToxie]

A metal brogue flying at mach one shattered a camera.