((RBP3: Sarah Bourne continued from Everything as Cold as Life))
The weather was still cold. Sarah pulled her hood down as she walked into the abandoned condo and shook her hair out. The condo wasn't much warmer but it was cover so automatically better than the outside. "Yeah this one’s empty." She muttered as she moved further in. Her pack was thrown onto the sofa with a dull thump and she rooted through it to pull out a PowerAde taking a large gulp she looked around the condo they were going to be crashing in. It was alright, she couldn't say much more than that. They were really running the whole tropical paradise shtick into the ground. It created a weird contrast with the freezing weather outside. All of it added to the strange atmosphere of being on Survival of the Fittest. "It'll do." Sarah said to herself as she put the PowerAde back into her bag. Then moved it onto the floor so she could sprawl onto the sofa herself.
Jewel had said she would show her how to use the axe gun and while Sarah was on board with the idea she knew that what would follow was going to be hard. She was going to hunt down Ashley. She needed to get revenge for Caroline's murder. The issue came in with actually pulling the trigger and killing Ashley. Sarah didn't know if she was going to be able to do it. She'd tried to avoid thinking about it, hoping that when it got to that point she would pull the trigger and just deal with the consequences later. The fear of psyching herself out was a very real one and she was trying to avoid it. Same went for over-thinking the situation. She didn't know if Caroline would have wanted her to get revenge but Sarah wasn't doing it just for her. She was doing it for herself as well.
She turned the axe gun over in her hands, analysing it. It was such a weird looking weapon. It was an ingenious design she guessed, even if it was completely batshit. Whoever thought to themselves 'Yeah and I'll put a gun in my axe' was clearly some form of psychopath but at the same time it was so unexpected it would probably give her a slight advantage, at least in the surprise department. The fact it was an axe also meant that at close range she'd still be dangerous. She spun it around in her hand a little, like she'd do with her drumsticks. It was a little awkward due to the weight, size and fact it could stab her.
"So Jewel how does this work exactly?"
Grins and Guns
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MurderWeasel
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((Jewel Evans continued from Everything as Cold as Life))
"Alright," said Jewel, "to start, tilt the barrel up. It's old and shitty, so you aren't going to get more than one shot in a fight. You want to get really close if it's going to mean anything."
She talked Sarah through the process, doing her best the whole time to impress upon her friend the nature of the weapon. And could she say really that it was so unreliable? It had seen her this far, give or take some wounds and forced improvisations and fallback options. She'd beaten people who had more useful equipment—her thoughts for a second turned back to the casino where the group had been so much larger and better armed. And now the weapon would pass on to Sarah, Sarah who no doubt would find a use for it or would die for want of the ability or mental fortitude to do so.
Weapons didn't mean a lot. The three Season Sixty-Five runner-up high killers each managed a murder unarmed. The most recent enemy in Jewel's wake had taken her off guard with the knife she now kept in her pocket, inches away from the gash it had opened in her. She shivered. It was hard for her to hear Sarah. It wasn't even ringing anymore, wasn't thumping. Everything sounded far away and Jewel had to actively focus to force the sounds into syllables into words. Even when she spoke, she sometimes couldn't believe there was any meaning to what she said.
At least it was warmer in here. Jewel still shook lightly from time to time, and her muscles were still tensed and aching. She wasn't actually very sure at all that the bleeding from her leg had stopped; the bandages held fast, but the track pants were dark and she was trying not to look too closely and so could not fully say if blood had seeped through. Her fingers still wouldn't bend, and try as she might she couldn't get that flash of white—bone, had that been bone? Tendon? Something worse?—out of her mind, and it almost would have been better to pull the wrapping back off and check and be sure, but she forced herself not to. It did not feel like less than three days had passed in this place.
And Sarah was with her still, and that was good and bad. At least Jewel had her as a point of focus and conversation, and Sarah made thinking easier in some ways, though much more difficult in others.
"It can kill people pretty fast," Jewel said, as she concluded her explanation. "Don't shoot someone if you aren't sure. You can't take it back, no matter how much you want to. Trust me."
Her tone didn't come out quite as steadily as she had intended. She took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders and it sent pain through her arm and hand and leg and head and made her close her eyes for a moment.
This was a place she hadn't been before. It was difficult for her to keep good track of the details through the cold and pain. What had happened? She'd always paid good attention, had always been aware of her environment, and now she had to actually consciously focus to mark the notable features. A sofa: terrible cover if a fight broke out assuming an attacker knew what they were doing, and a solid enough hiding spot otherwise. Various doors and windows: points of entry and egress, as well as sources of information; she moved so her back didn't face them. A coffee table and various other bits of stage dressing: props left to create a more varied environment, nothing more. She adjusted her position again, a handful of seconds after the last time, and sat on the edge of the table, hoping her movements didn't come across as nervous and didn't broadcast her distraction.
"Alright," said Jewel, "to start, tilt the barrel up. It's old and shitty, so you aren't going to get more than one shot in a fight. You want to get really close if it's going to mean anything."
She talked Sarah through the process, doing her best the whole time to impress upon her friend the nature of the weapon. And could she say really that it was so unreliable? It had seen her this far, give or take some wounds and forced improvisations and fallback options. She'd beaten people who had more useful equipment—her thoughts for a second turned back to the casino where the group had been so much larger and better armed. And now the weapon would pass on to Sarah, Sarah who no doubt would find a use for it or would die for want of the ability or mental fortitude to do so.
Weapons didn't mean a lot. The three Season Sixty-Five runner-up high killers each managed a murder unarmed. The most recent enemy in Jewel's wake had taken her off guard with the knife she now kept in her pocket, inches away from the gash it had opened in her. She shivered. It was hard for her to hear Sarah. It wasn't even ringing anymore, wasn't thumping. Everything sounded far away and Jewel had to actively focus to force the sounds into syllables into words. Even when she spoke, she sometimes couldn't believe there was any meaning to what she said.
At least it was warmer in here. Jewel still shook lightly from time to time, and her muscles were still tensed and aching. She wasn't actually very sure at all that the bleeding from her leg had stopped; the bandages held fast, but the track pants were dark and she was trying not to look too closely and so could not fully say if blood had seeped through. Her fingers still wouldn't bend, and try as she might she couldn't get that flash of white—bone, had that been bone? Tendon? Something worse?—out of her mind, and it almost would have been better to pull the wrapping back off and check and be sure, but she forced herself not to. It did not feel like less than three days had passed in this place.
And Sarah was with her still, and that was good and bad. At least Jewel had her as a point of focus and conversation, and Sarah made thinking easier in some ways, though much more difficult in others.
"It can kill people pretty fast," Jewel said, as she concluded her explanation. "Don't shoot someone if you aren't sure. You can't take it back, no matter how much you want to. Trust me."
Her tone didn't come out quite as steadily as she had intended. She took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders and it sent pain through her arm and hand and leg and head and made her close her eyes for a moment.
This was a place she hadn't been before. It was difficult for her to keep good track of the details through the cold and pain. What had happened? She'd always paid good attention, had always been aware of her environment, and now she had to actually consciously focus to mark the notable features. A sofa: terrible cover if a fight broke out assuming an attacker knew what they were doing, and a solid enough hiding spot otherwise. Various doors and windows: points of entry and egress, as well as sources of information; she moved so her back didn't face them. A coffee table and various other bits of stage dressing: props left to create a more varied environment, nothing more. She adjusted her position again, a handful of seconds after the last time, and sat on the edge of the table, hoping her movements didn't come across as nervous and didn't broadcast her distraction.
It was workable. That was the nicest thing Sarah could say about the axe gun. It wasn't amazing, it wasn't awful. It just sat in the middle, avoiding being completely useless thanks to the fact it could be used as an actual axe. She could work around it, make the most of its strengths and try to avoid falling prey to its weaknesses. It sounded a lot simpler than it would be, there was no avoiding that. But at the same time Sarah didn't feel like it was a terrible weapon. It had its uses and it had its shortcomings. The rest was up to her.
Sarah nodded as Jewel finished her explanation. No taking it back. That was fine with Sarah she wasn't sure she wanted to take back what she was planning on doing with it. Unless they magically found a way to resurrect Caroline. Jewel sounded off as she finished. Regret maybe? Sarah didn't want to pry. Jewel had been through more than she had in some respects and it must have been emotionally draining as well as physically. Asking questions at the wrong time could do more damage than good.
Watching Jewel as she sat on the table was interesting. She seemed calm when it came to her face but her body language was fidgety. Sarah wasn't sure what to make of it. It could have been nerves or it could have been her way of keeping herself distracted. Again Sarah didn't ask. Just another question about Jewel that would go unanswered. One of many things she'd never find out about her friend. It was weird that they were friends and knew so little about one another. Just another marvel of the modern world, in fact if Sarah thought back she couldn't really think of a time when she'd been around Jewel in person for as long as they'd been together in Survival of the Fittest.
"Yeah I won't be able to take it back." Sarah looked at the axe gun, analysing it as if it held the answer to some of her doubts. Unfortunately it couldn't talk. "I'm probably going to head out soon Jewel." Sarah said looking up her friend. "I just wanted to say thank you and that I've enjoyed your company."
Sarah nodded as Jewel finished her explanation. No taking it back. That was fine with Sarah she wasn't sure she wanted to take back what she was planning on doing with it. Unless they magically found a way to resurrect Caroline. Jewel sounded off as she finished. Regret maybe? Sarah didn't want to pry. Jewel had been through more than she had in some respects and it must have been emotionally draining as well as physically. Asking questions at the wrong time could do more damage than good.
Watching Jewel as she sat on the table was interesting. She seemed calm when it came to her face but her body language was fidgety. Sarah wasn't sure what to make of it. It could have been nerves or it could have been her way of keeping herself distracted. Again Sarah didn't ask. Just another question about Jewel that would go unanswered. One of many things she'd never find out about her friend. It was weird that they were friends and knew so little about one another. Just another marvel of the modern world, in fact if Sarah thought back she couldn't really think of a time when she'd been around Jewel in person for as long as they'd been together in Survival of the Fittest.
"Yeah I won't be able to take it back." Sarah looked at the axe gun, analysing it as if it held the answer to some of her doubts. Unfortunately it couldn't talk. "I'm probably going to head out soon Jewel." Sarah said looking up her friend. "I just wanted to say thank you and that I've enjoyed your company."
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MurderWeasel
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"You too," Jewel said. She shivered. Her former weapon looked strange and alien now, no longer old or beautiful, just an object with some vaguely unsettling association clinging to it. It had started everything, so it perhaps was fitting that now she sent it away with Sarah, since her friend seemed set on blazing a new path for herself. In Jewel's pocket, the knife was an unfamiliar weight. The stun rod was in her bag, which leaned against the wall; she had no real urge to keep it near her at the moment.
Her focus had centered in on the gun again, and then expanded outwards to encompass Sarah also, now that the girl had stated her intent to leave. It was expected but seemed also sudden, and for a second only she gave weight to the impulse to renege and force Sarah to stay, hold her at knifepoint and keep her from whatever choices she'd made about her future, but it passed and with it some of the confusion that had been bubbling up since Jewel had last spoken into the headset. Sarah was going soon.
Jewel rolled her shoulders and the pain from her hand and arm made her wince a little again. She tugged at the waistband of her track pants, running her left thumb along it while her right hand hovered uselessly. The pants were much looser than the tights she'd worn for most of her time here, and that made them feel somehow less protective, or perhaps it was just how utterly normal her dress had become. Take away the bandages and she could have been anyone.
"Sarah," Jewel said, pushing herself away from the table and starting to pace, hands falling to her sides, "I've lied to you about a lot of things. I'm sure you've figured that out."
She spoke now with greater intent than for some time—she'd at one point picked her words with great care, but that was now more than a day ago and it was hard to recapture that clarity—but her voice to her did not sound strong or focused even. She drew in air quickly, forced herself back to that way of thinking and continued, because this was something really important.
"But please believe me when I say that I want you to stay safe. With how things have been going, I doubt we'll meet again, but if we do, I'll be on your side. No matter what happens, you don't have anything to fear from me."
Then she smiled—no teeth this time, just a slight lift to the corners of her lips.
Her focus had centered in on the gun again, and then expanded outwards to encompass Sarah also, now that the girl had stated her intent to leave. It was expected but seemed also sudden, and for a second only she gave weight to the impulse to renege and force Sarah to stay, hold her at knifepoint and keep her from whatever choices she'd made about her future, but it passed and with it some of the confusion that had been bubbling up since Jewel had last spoken into the headset. Sarah was going soon.
Jewel rolled her shoulders and the pain from her hand and arm made her wince a little again. She tugged at the waistband of her track pants, running her left thumb along it while her right hand hovered uselessly. The pants were much looser than the tights she'd worn for most of her time here, and that made them feel somehow less protective, or perhaps it was just how utterly normal her dress had become. Take away the bandages and she could have been anyone.
"Sarah," Jewel said, pushing herself away from the table and starting to pace, hands falling to her sides, "I've lied to you about a lot of things. I'm sure you've figured that out."
She spoke now with greater intent than for some time—she'd at one point picked her words with great care, but that was now more than a day ago and it was hard to recapture that clarity—but her voice to her did not sound strong or focused even. She drew in air quickly, forced herself back to that way of thinking and continued, because this was something really important.
"But please believe me when I say that I want you to stay safe. With how things have been going, I doubt we'll meet again, but if we do, I'll be on your side. No matter what happens, you don't have anything to fear from me."
Then she smiled—no teeth this time, just a slight lift to the corners of her lips.
Lies. Sarah had considered it, maybe she had known. Still, she had never wanted to face that. Regardless it was in the open now, Jewel hadn't said what she had been lying but she didn't need to, Sarah knew. It was OK. Acceptance didn't really matter. Maybe she deserved to die in the end. But Sarah had learned that she wasn't the one who got to decide that. It would be someone else. It was better that way in the end. She wasn't sure if she could even decide it for one person. Let alone two.
She returned the smile. Funnily enough she it was genuine. She had felt sol hollow up until meeting Jewel, but her friend had given her some perspective and helped her find some clarity. It had allowed her to take a step back and to realise that in the end she had to be honest with what she was doing for herself more than any other reason. The dead couldn't talk to her. They were gone and never coming back. Coming to terms with that moving on had been important but it allowed her to act without the safety blanket of revenge for her friends. It sounded nice but it was searching for a justification she didn't need.
They would all end up as sinners, but it wasn't in their real lives. It would be an alternate one. Their lives on screen, on Survival of the Fittest. In the end there was no one but the students from Whittree and Davison, put in a situation so far removed from their real lives that nothing they did truly mattered. For all intents and purposes they were dead and gone as soon as they had been cast. Only one or two of them would be able to come back from the land of the dead and into the world of the living. They would get treated with the respect and admiration such a feat deserved. The others, they were dead, they would live on through their actions but nothing more. After all they weren't as special. They hadn't returned from death.
Hoisting her bag onto her back Sarah nodded at Jewel. "I'll keep that in mind. Good luck." With that she was gone.
((RBP3: Sarah Bourne continued in Spiders in my Needle))
She returned the smile. Funnily enough she it was genuine. She had felt sol hollow up until meeting Jewel, but her friend had given her some perspective and helped her find some clarity. It had allowed her to take a step back and to realise that in the end she had to be honest with what she was doing for herself more than any other reason. The dead couldn't talk to her. They were gone and never coming back. Coming to terms with that moving on had been important but it allowed her to act without the safety blanket of revenge for her friends. It sounded nice but it was searching for a justification she didn't need.
They would all end up as sinners, but it wasn't in their real lives. It would be an alternate one. Their lives on screen, on Survival of the Fittest. In the end there was no one but the students from Whittree and Davison, put in a situation so far removed from their real lives that nothing they did truly mattered. For all intents and purposes they were dead and gone as soon as they had been cast. Only one or two of them would be able to come back from the land of the dead and into the world of the living. They would get treated with the respect and admiration such a feat deserved. The others, they were dead, they would live on through their actions but nothing more. After all they weren't as special. They hadn't returned from death.
Hoisting her bag onto her back Sarah nodded at Jewel. "I'll keep that in mind. Good luck." With that she was gone.
((RBP3: Sarah Bourne continued in Spiders in my Needle))
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MurderWeasel
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"Yeah," said Jewel, "you too."
Then Sarah was gone. Jewel shivered; all of a sudden the chilliness washed over her again, or maybe Sarah had just let a draft in on her way out. It was dim inside, and the fuzziness and lack of focus were coming on strong once more. Trembling, she closed her eyes and tried to pull something out of the air around her, distant gunfire or whispers of interlopers or the crackle of speakers or the scent of blood, but she was left with only a lingering taste of sweat and the ring of tinnitus.
Jewel opened her eyes and flipped the coffee table with her left hand, sending it crashing to the floor. She kicked at it once, but that set the pain surging through her leg from the knife wound once again and made her gasp and stumble and grit her teeth. She narrowed her eyes and took quick shallow breaths until she could walk again, and then she set out, limping more strongly for the first few steps before finding her pace and settling into an unsteady lope.
She stalked through the condominiums with a purpose, slamming doors and knocking chairs aside and swatting cheap pieces of tacky decor off walls and mantlepieces—a painting of a sailboat hit the opposite wall and bent as its frame snapped, a whole shelf's worth of books scattered with pages rippling and bending in the cold air current coming from somewhere still unseen, an ornamental vase that was sturdier than it first looked hit the tile floor and instead of shattering gave out an ear-piercing crack and rolled under a cabinet—and all the time looking around her and blinking and shaking.
((Jewel Evans continued in A Prayer for Something Better))
Then Sarah was gone. Jewel shivered; all of a sudden the chilliness washed over her again, or maybe Sarah had just let a draft in on her way out. It was dim inside, and the fuzziness and lack of focus were coming on strong once more. Trembling, she closed her eyes and tried to pull something out of the air around her, distant gunfire or whispers of interlopers or the crackle of speakers or the scent of blood, but she was left with only a lingering taste of sweat and the ring of tinnitus.
Jewel opened her eyes and flipped the coffee table with her left hand, sending it crashing to the floor. She kicked at it once, but that set the pain surging through her leg from the knife wound once again and made her gasp and stumble and grit her teeth. She narrowed her eyes and took quick shallow breaths until she could walk again, and then she set out, limping more strongly for the first few steps before finding her pace and settling into an unsteady lope.
She stalked through the condominiums with a purpose, slamming doors and knocking chairs aside and swatting cheap pieces of tacky decor off walls and mantlepieces—a painting of a sailboat hit the opposite wall and bent as its frame snapped, a whole shelf's worth of books scattered with pages rippling and bending in the cold air current coming from somewhere still unseen, an ornamental vase that was sturdier than it first looked hit the tile floor and instead of shattering gave out an ear-piercing crack and rolled under a cabinet—and all the time looking around her and blinking and shaking.
((Jewel Evans continued in A Prayer for Something Better))