((GMing approved by Doddioslave))
Drawing back the rifle for another swing, Eddie balked as the psychopath that had once been Wade Wilson spoke. The monster didn't try to fight back or defend himself. He didn't beg for his life, or try to run. The bloody young man, instead, knocked the wind from Eddie's lungs, by apologizing. He prostrated himself, wept in the dirt, asking to be killed in punishment for his sins.
The Remington suddenly felt very heavy in Eddie's hands. This wasn't right. Wade Wilson was a monster, a psychopathic murderer. He deserved to die. No one deserved death as much as he did. But...he was supposed to be killed in a desperate struggle. It was supposed to be a bloody fight. It was supposed to be like putting down a rabid dog. This hurt boy, curled in on himself, sobbing at the memory of his heinous crimes...this wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
The first tendrils of doubt and sympathy wound through the eavesdropper's guts. "N-no....No. No, no, no, no, no! NO!" Letting the rifle clatter to the ground, Eddie stomped his foot, his hands clenched into fists as impotent rage pounded behind his eyes. This wasn't right, this couldn't be right. "This isn't FAIR!" he shrieked at the bloodied mass, "You weren't supposed t-to cry! You weren't supposed to be sorry! You were supposed to be a demon! A monster! I shouldn't have to feel sorry for you!"
Eddie's breathing came in ragged gulps and his clothes clung damply to his sweaty body, despite the early morning chill. Gnawing on the inside of his mouth, he didn't move for a long moment, glaring at Wade and trying to find someway to avoid the sympathy that froze his muscles. But, he couldn't shake a horrible thought. Maybe...Wade wasn't in his right mind when he killed those people. It must have been some...horrible, horrible mistake. Then, that didn't really make it his fault, did it? Wade couldn't really be held responsible for his actions, could he? The dark haired boy stamped his foot again, cursing out loud, in frustration. This was supposed to be easy, not a moral deilemma.
Droping his gaze back to the downed killer, Eddie shook with anxious fury. Blood dripped thickly to the ground, flowing freely down Wade's face, alongside his tears. A steady stream of ruddy droplets pooled in the dirt. Something tore. Maybe it was the photographer's face, or perhaps it was the blood, or the tears, or the fire in Eddie's gut, but something made the memories come flooding back. The screams and the blood. The manic savagery of the kill. The spear, the nightstick, the inhuman howls of agony. The lagoon. Jodene.
Eddie's knuckles hurt. It wasn't until the second sharp chord of pain shot through his hand, that the dark haired boy realized he had struck Wade. Holding up the front of the artist's shirt in his left hand, he swung again with his right. Another jolt shocked his knuckles and ran up his arm. Eddie didn't care. "She was beautiful!" he screamed in Wade's face, "And you...you j-just t-took that away!" Tears welled in the corner of his eyes as he made his voice steady again. "She was wonderful, she was...she was perfect! She was worth ten of you; a hundred!" He sniffled, trying in vain to keep the tears at bay.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Eddie locked eyes with Wade. "So, you're sorry?" he whispered, his voice cold like the steel of a knife. "Well, if you're sorry, give her back." He shook the front of the boy's shirt sharply. "I want her back, can you do that? If you're so sorry, give her back to me! Give me my Jodene back!" He swung again, sending Wade stumbling back down to the dirt with a dull thud.
"I want her back!" he screamed futilely at the boy on the ground. "GIVE HER BACK!" A kick slammed into the photographer's gut as Eddie shrieked, tears streaming down his face.
Cause and Effect
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DetectiveArcher†
- Posts: 163
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This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler DetectiveArcher.
The beating came, and Wade was almost ready for it. It was almost a penance of sorts, and as the blood flowed freely from his mouth and broken nose, it seemed almost appropriate that he was having pain inflicted upon him. It was good. A painless, easy death was not something that he'd deserved. Not after the horrible, horrible things that he'd done.
The kid, who Wade barely recognized, was shouting something about a girl. Someone who he obviously cared for very much, that Wade had obviously been responsible for killing. Searching his mind, he vaguely remembered the encounter that he'd had at the cliffs, and recalled killing a succubus. Which of course, he now recognized not as a succubus, but as a living, breathing human being, someone who'd done absolutely nothing to him at all.
No wonder he's so angry. He has a RIGHT to be angry.
As the kick landed to his stomach, Wade coughed and tried to breathe in air to replace that which had fled his lungs. The assault was causing him to breathe heavily, and the kick to the chest certainly didn't help matters any. Even still, he took it, dragging himself off the ground and to a kneeling position. Grimacing, and wiping the bloody tears away from his face, Wade looked up at the boy.
"I would. God, believe me, I would if I could. I would trade my own life for all of those for whom I've hurt, in a single instant. If I could give her back to you, I would. I'm so sorry. Sorry that I've hurt you, sorry that I've let everyone down. Let my mother down. I've become a monster, and who's to blame? It isn't you...it isn't her, it isn't even society."
Wade sniffed back tears, and shook his head.
"It was God's fault. HE made me this way. HE decided that I would have some fucked up mental problem. HE put the terrorists in this world. HE IS RESPONSIBLE. I can't bring her back for you, I'm sorry. I'm just one fucked-up kid who didn't get enough medication to last him. I can't help you, and if that isn't enough...then you're going to have to kill me. Please, put me out of my misery. Before I hurt somebody else."
He stopped, and brushed the blood from his face again.
"Do it, please. God is the one who made me like this, and the one who is ultimately to blame. The only thing that you can do now...is send me to meet him. I've got a few choice words, and I think it's about time for me to pay him a long overdue visit."
With that, Wade didn't say anything else, and simply let the tears roll down his face. He felt like he was in a clear presence of mind, for the first time in days. He'd been in and out so many times, but now he somehow felt at peace with himself, with the idea of death. If he were going to die...it should be now. He HOPED it would be now, before the feeling slipped away and he fell back into insanity.
...back into the abyss, and that's no way to live...and certainly no way to die...
"DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Wade screamed at the kid, hoping - for both his sake and everyone else's that he would have the stones to stab him, shoot him, club him with a rock, or otherwise end the unfortunate life that had belonged to one Wade Wilson.
The kid, who Wade barely recognized, was shouting something about a girl. Someone who he obviously cared for very much, that Wade had obviously been responsible for killing. Searching his mind, he vaguely remembered the encounter that he'd had at the cliffs, and recalled killing a succubus. Which of course, he now recognized not as a succubus, but as a living, breathing human being, someone who'd done absolutely nothing to him at all.
No wonder he's so angry. He has a RIGHT to be angry.
As the kick landed to his stomach, Wade coughed and tried to breathe in air to replace that which had fled his lungs. The assault was causing him to breathe heavily, and the kick to the chest certainly didn't help matters any. Even still, he took it, dragging himself off the ground and to a kneeling position. Grimacing, and wiping the bloody tears away from his face, Wade looked up at the boy.
"I would. God, believe me, I would if I could. I would trade my own life for all of those for whom I've hurt, in a single instant. If I could give her back to you, I would. I'm so sorry. Sorry that I've hurt you, sorry that I've let everyone down. Let my mother down. I've become a monster, and who's to blame? It isn't you...it isn't her, it isn't even society."
Wade sniffed back tears, and shook his head.
"It was God's fault. HE made me this way. HE decided that I would have some fucked up mental problem. HE put the terrorists in this world. HE IS RESPONSIBLE. I can't bring her back for you, I'm sorry. I'm just one fucked-up kid who didn't get enough medication to last him. I can't help you, and if that isn't enough...then you're going to have to kill me. Please, put me out of my misery. Before I hurt somebody else."
He stopped, and brushed the blood from his face again.
"Do it, please. God is the one who made me like this, and the one who is ultimately to blame. The only thing that you can do now...is send me to meet him. I've got a few choice words, and I think it's about time for me to pay him a long overdue visit."
With that, Wade didn't say anything else, and simply let the tears roll down his face. He felt like he was in a clear presence of mind, for the first time in days. He'd been in and out so many times, but now he somehow felt at peace with himself, with the idea of death. If he were going to die...it should be now. He HOPED it would be now, before the feeling slipped away and he fell back into insanity.
...back into the abyss, and that's no way to live...and certainly no way to die...
"DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Wade screamed at the kid, hoping - for both his sake and everyone else's that he would have the stones to stab him, shoot him, club him with a rock, or otherwise end the unfortunate life that had belonged to one Wade Wilson.
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DetectiveArcher†
- Posts: 163
- Joined: Mon Sep 10, 2018 7:45 pm
Rubbing his eyes with the back of his fist, Eddie sniffled loudly as Wade struggled to right himself. This was all wrong. He'd thought about finding his target and whatever his expectations might have been, they certainly weren't...this. Does it matter? Being sorry doesn't change the fact that he killed people. That he killed Jodene. He didn't want to listen to the cold voice that spoke from the base of his skull. It wasn't where rational thoughts came from and it wasn't the best place to take advice from.
Wade continued his apology, swearing that he would give his life, if only it would undo the terrible things he'd done. Eddie's fists clenched tighter at the words. This wasn't righteous revenge. If he killed Wade now, it would be in cold blood. Just another murder. Just another statistic for the game. It was when the beaten and bloodied boy told Eddie where to place the blame that it happened. Wade dropped the burden of guilt down at the feet of God. Eddie was down and back up in a second, the Remington back in his hands.
"Oh, f-f-fuck you, pal!" the eavesdropper spat with as much venom as he could muster. "Don't try to shift the blame, here! This is all your f-fault! God didn't come down and make you do shit! Just b-b-because you're f-fucked up, doesn't mean you can't take some f-fucking responsibility!" Eddie's grip tightened around the stock of the rifle, his feet set shoulder width apart.
"Oh, you've got words for Him, huh? What are they? You hate Him? He's evil? It was His fault all this happened? Well, if...when I put this bullet between your eyes you can make damn sure it's not the pearly gates you're gonna be staring at." Eddie pumped the gun's slide, mostly to sound impressive, ejecting a perfectly good round from the chamber.
And...he hesitated. Staring down the barrel of the rifle, into Wade's face, something gave him pause. Come on, Eddie. Do it. Finger resting on the trigger, the boy couldn't make his muscles move. His heart beat hammered in his ears, his breathing was coming harder, now. Would he actually do it? Kill another human being? He began applying pressure. The manual had said the trigger required 2.5 kilograms of force to actually fire the weapon.
One. Two....
Eddie's finger wouldn't go any further.
"DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Shit, shit, shit. Eddie wanted to. He wished for nothing more than to spray the killer's brains across the floor, but something wouldn't let him. He couldn't shake the feeling that, if he pulled the trigger, he wouldn't be himself anymore. He shook in place, the rifle trained on Wade's forehead. He needed a moment. Just a second, to steel himself. Closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath, he knew he was ready. He opened his eyes and pressed the muzzle of the rifle against his prey's skull.
Wade continued his apology, swearing that he would give his life, if only it would undo the terrible things he'd done. Eddie's fists clenched tighter at the words. This wasn't righteous revenge. If he killed Wade now, it would be in cold blood. Just another murder. Just another statistic for the game. It was when the beaten and bloodied boy told Eddie where to place the blame that it happened. Wade dropped the burden of guilt down at the feet of God. Eddie was down and back up in a second, the Remington back in his hands.
"Oh, f-f-fuck you, pal!" the eavesdropper spat with as much venom as he could muster. "Don't try to shift the blame, here! This is all your f-fault! God didn't come down and make you do shit! Just b-b-because you're f-fucked up, doesn't mean you can't take some f-fucking responsibility!" Eddie's grip tightened around the stock of the rifle, his feet set shoulder width apart.
"Oh, you've got words for Him, huh? What are they? You hate Him? He's evil? It was His fault all this happened? Well, if...when I put this bullet between your eyes you can make damn sure it's not the pearly gates you're gonna be staring at." Eddie pumped the gun's slide, mostly to sound impressive, ejecting a perfectly good round from the chamber.
And...he hesitated. Staring down the barrel of the rifle, into Wade's face, something gave him pause. Come on, Eddie. Do it. Finger resting on the trigger, the boy couldn't make his muscles move. His heart beat hammered in his ears, his breathing was coming harder, now. Would he actually do it? Kill another human being? He began applying pressure. The manual had said the trigger required 2.5 kilograms of force to actually fire the weapon.
One. Two....
Eddie's finger wouldn't go any further.
"DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Shit, shit, shit. Eddie wanted to. He wished for nothing more than to spray the killer's brains across the floor, but something wouldn't let him. He couldn't shake the feeling that, if he pulled the trigger, he wouldn't be himself anymore. He shook in place, the rifle trained on Wade's forehead. He needed a moment. Just a second, to steel himself. Closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath, he knew he was ready. He opened his eyes and pressed the muzzle of the rifle against his prey's skull.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler DetectiveArcher.
The noises outside continued, easily piercing through the walls and making their way to Nicole's ears as she lay on the floor, trying to avoid as much as breathing too loudly lest it attract undue attention. Wet noises and another crack as a beating was administered, a bone or nose broken maybe, Ed and Wade's voices yelling and crying out. Eventually they started speaking low enough that she couldn't entirely make out all of what they were saying from her position, though a few choice bits which were actually said at enough of a volume to actually reach her, especially as Wade yelled at Ed to "do it". Do what, though?
Don't be stupid, Nikki, you know what they're talking about.
The tile floor was getting cold, the dust on and around her irritating her sinuses, but she resisted the urge to sneeze, if only out of necessity. However, something was different; where before she'd been too scared to really move, now she couldn't help but fidget some, shifting her weight on the floor and tempted to stand up, not entirely out of discomfort, either. Something was going on outside, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that, somehow, Wade was trying to force Ed to kill him. Could she really allow that to happen? Crazy or not, Wade was playing the game, he was dangerous. By all rights, wasn't his death a good thing?
No. Death is never a good thing. It just isn't! It's not his fault he was forced into this...and he sounds remorseful. Is there really a point letting him die? Come on, you've always believed in second chances.
Hesitantly standing up and brushing the dust off of herself, Nicole reached for the gun in her pocket when nobody rushed in and started shooting at her the second she stood up, drawing it and holding it in front of herself. She didn't know if she could shoot anybody, but it'd be a comfort in case Wade attacked. The noises from earlier had now been replaced by complete silence, putting the woman even more on edge as she walked to her pack and opened it up, withdrawing the baseball cap she'd put away on the first day.
I completely forgot about this thing.
Putting it on, she wondered if there was really a point in doing so, especially since she'd got so used to not wearing anything on her head aside from her own curly red hair, but she'd also got used to being inside the mess hall, and part of her hoped the brim of the cap would help her eyes adjust to the sunlight by not allowing too much in at once. Anything to avoid thinking about how dangerous the situation outside was. Still, she couldn't afford to stall any longer, not in an incident where she was sure lives were on the line. Heading towards the door, gun held tightly in one hand, she opened it slowly, almost inaudibly if not for the silence. When no bullets greeted the door's movement, she opened it the rest of the way, stepping outside for the first time in at least a few days.
Needless to say, she wasn't amused by what she saw, even if in her heart she'd known what to expect. Watching Eddie press a gun point blank to Wade's skull, Wade looking battered and broken and honestly not seeming to do anything, she wasn't sure whether to be startled, pissed off, or just confused.
"Eddie? What're you d-doing?" she asked, her mind defaulting to some mixture of the former option and the latter. Eddie had seemed so harmless, to say she was shocked to see him ready to kill someone was an understatement. Hopefully, she'd be able to get his attention for a second, seeing another person murdered in cold blood wasn't on her to-do list today.
Don't be stupid, Nikki, you know what they're talking about.
The tile floor was getting cold, the dust on and around her irritating her sinuses, but she resisted the urge to sneeze, if only out of necessity. However, something was different; where before she'd been too scared to really move, now she couldn't help but fidget some, shifting her weight on the floor and tempted to stand up, not entirely out of discomfort, either. Something was going on outside, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that, somehow, Wade was trying to force Ed to kill him. Could she really allow that to happen? Crazy or not, Wade was playing the game, he was dangerous. By all rights, wasn't his death a good thing?
No. Death is never a good thing. It just isn't! It's not his fault he was forced into this...and he sounds remorseful. Is there really a point letting him die? Come on, you've always believed in second chances.
Hesitantly standing up and brushing the dust off of herself, Nicole reached for the gun in her pocket when nobody rushed in and started shooting at her the second she stood up, drawing it and holding it in front of herself. She didn't know if she could shoot anybody, but it'd be a comfort in case Wade attacked. The noises from earlier had now been replaced by complete silence, putting the woman even more on edge as she walked to her pack and opened it up, withdrawing the baseball cap she'd put away on the first day.
I completely forgot about this thing.
Putting it on, she wondered if there was really a point in doing so, especially since she'd got so used to not wearing anything on her head aside from her own curly red hair, but she'd also got used to being inside the mess hall, and part of her hoped the brim of the cap would help her eyes adjust to the sunlight by not allowing too much in at once. Anything to avoid thinking about how dangerous the situation outside was. Still, she couldn't afford to stall any longer, not in an incident where she was sure lives were on the line. Heading towards the door, gun held tightly in one hand, she opened it slowly, almost inaudibly if not for the silence. When no bullets greeted the door's movement, she opened it the rest of the way, stepping outside for the first time in at least a few days.
Needless to say, she wasn't amused by what she saw, even if in her heart she'd known what to expect. Watching Eddie press a gun point blank to Wade's skull, Wade looking battered and broken and honestly not seeming to do anything, she wasn't sure whether to be startled, pissed off, or just confused.
"Eddie? What're you d-doing?" she asked, her mind defaulting to some mixture of the former option and the latter. Eddie had seemed so harmless, to say she was shocked to see him ready to kill someone was an understatement. Hopefully, she'd be able to get his attention for a second, seeing another person murdered in cold blood wasn't on her to-do list today.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
The only emotion that resonated through Wade Wilson's entire body was that of pain, and of loss. For a good, solid ten days, Wade had struggled to keep his sanity, and struggled to try and keep control of his own body and mind. Unfortunately, the struggle hadn't gone so well. Now that he was fully aware of the horrors that he'd perpetrated, Wade wanted nothing more than to die. He regretted everything, he felt absolutely awful about everything. He tried to apologize to this kid, for whom he'd wronged somehow, something about Jodene; which he assumed was either the pregnant girl, or the girl at the river...
Neither of whom I can think about...those thoughts, those things...those awful, awful things...
He'd attempted to explain, but the boy had none of it. Even still, Wade hadn't expected him to. All that he wanted now was to die, while he still had peace of mind, and still had the mental capability to know what he was doing, and what he had done. He'd basically begged for death, but the angry bastard had his gun pressed right up against Wade's forehead, but couldn't pull the trigger.
So what was there to do now? It seemed that they were in a stalemate. Wade wanted the sweet embrace of death to come and shuffle him off this mortal coil, and yet the kid couldn't do him in. Something in his mind, probably his sense of decency, was stopping him from pulling the trigger.
"It is God's fault. God is the one who gave me this fucking mental defect! I never asked for any of this. I never wanted to kill anybody. I-I just wanted to live a normal life, travel, get published. Instead, I got a ticket to a mental institution and a diagnosis that means I can't keep my head on straight without taking pills every day! How do you think that feels, hm? No matter what you say, this isn't my fault...I regret what I've done. I regret it all, and like I said, I wish that I could take it all back...but I can't. I can only atone for what I've done. All that I want now is the release that death will give me...and you won't do it."
The tears were rolling down Wade's face now. There wasn't anywhere left to go, there wasn't anything left to say. The expression on the teenager's face said it all. He couldn't pull the trigger. Especially in front of the girl that had silently walked up behind them. She stared, with a shock that seemed to portray the assumption that neither of these kids were out for blood. She broke the silence, causing the kid to look at her, losing his concentration for a moment.
That was all that Wade needed.
"You won't do it. You won't let me atone, or confront God."
Wade smiled. Standing behind the boy, he finally saw what he'd been looking for since his moment of horrible revelation.
"...so let me give you a hand!"
In the momentary distraction that the girl's presence gave him, Wade reached up with both of his hands and grabbed ahold of the boy's hand, squeezing his thumbs against his finger as tightly as he could.
BANG!
Wade's final thought was for his mother, of whom he'd hoped not to let down, and of whom he'd always loved unconditionally. He knew that she would be horrified, and upset, but he knew that she would eventually come around. Wade hadn't been in control of his own actions, and he knew that eventually, she would forgive his memory, and be at peace with herself. The thought allowed him comfort in his last moment.
The rifle, having been directly against Wade's forehead, left a burn mark that left a momentary sense of pain followed by a lack of anything at all. The recoil forced Edward's hand and the rifle back, and the bullet tore through Wade's head with a great amount of force. It exploded out the back of his head, taking brain matter and skull fragments with it, coating the area behind him with a gory coat of paint. Wade's body slumped backwards, his head striking the ground and bouncing a bit, coming to a rest so that the blown-out back of his skull was visible to any who wished to see it.
For Wade Wilson, the nightmare was finally over, and the sweet release of death had finally come upon him. It was now that he could atone for all that he had done, to go and make his peace with God.
The reaper moved on, for its' work was far from over...
B51 -- WILSON, WADE -- DECEASED
Neither of whom I can think about...those thoughts, those things...those awful, awful things...
He'd attempted to explain, but the boy had none of it. Even still, Wade hadn't expected him to. All that he wanted now was to die, while he still had peace of mind, and still had the mental capability to know what he was doing, and what he had done. He'd basically begged for death, but the angry bastard had his gun pressed right up against Wade's forehead, but couldn't pull the trigger.
So what was there to do now? It seemed that they were in a stalemate. Wade wanted the sweet embrace of death to come and shuffle him off this mortal coil, and yet the kid couldn't do him in. Something in his mind, probably his sense of decency, was stopping him from pulling the trigger.
"It is God's fault. God is the one who gave me this fucking mental defect! I never asked for any of this. I never wanted to kill anybody. I-I just wanted to live a normal life, travel, get published. Instead, I got a ticket to a mental institution and a diagnosis that means I can't keep my head on straight without taking pills every day! How do you think that feels, hm? No matter what you say, this isn't my fault...I regret what I've done. I regret it all, and like I said, I wish that I could take it all back...but I can't. I can only atone for what I've done. All that I want now is the release that death will give me...and you won't do it."
The tears were rolling down Wade's face now. There wasn't anywhere left to go, there wasn't anything left to say. The expression on the teenager's face said it all. He couldn't pull the trigger. Especially in front of the girl that had silently walked up behind them. She stared, with a shock that seemed to portray the assumption that neither of these kids were out for blood. She broke the silence, causing the kid to look at her, losing his concentration for a moment.
That was all that Wade needed.
"You won't do it. You won't let me atone, or confront God."
Wade smiled. Standing behind the boy, he finally saw what he'd been looking for since his moment of horrible revelation.
"...so let me give you a hand!"
In the momentary distraction that the girl's presence gave him, Wade reached up with both of his hands and grabbed ahold of the boy's hand, squeezing his thumbs against his finger as tightly as he could.
BANG!
Wade's final thought was for his mother, of whom he'd hoped not to let down, and of whom he'd always loved unconditionally. He knew that she would be horrified, and upset, but he knew that she would eventually come around. Wade hadn't been in control of his own actions, and he knew that eventually, she would forgive his memory, and be at peace with herself. The thought allowed him comfort in his last moment.
The rifle, having been directly against Wade's forehead, left a burn mark that left a momentary sense of pain followed by a lack of anything at all. The recoil forced Edward's hand and the rifle back, and the bullet tore through Wade's head with a great amount of force. It exploded out the back of his head, taking brain matter and skull fragments with it, coating the area behind him with a gory coat of paint. Wade's body slumped backwards, his head striking the ground and bouncing a bit, coming to a rest so that the blown-out back of his skull was visible to any who wished to see it.
For Wade Wilson, the nightmare was finally over, and the sweet release of death had finally come upon him. It was now that he could atone for all that he had done, to go and make his peace with God.
The reaper moved on, for its' work was far from over...
B51 -- WILSON, WADE -- DECEASED
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DetectiveArcher†
- Posts: 163
- Joined: Mon Sep 10, 2018 7:45 pm
Eddie almost struck the weeping boy again. Through grit teeth, he growled down at the kneeling killer. "Still shifting the blame. Still avoiding responsibility. That's second-rate, cop out, bullshit and you know it! Would it be God's fault if you had a happy trip and helped people, rather than killed them? No, I'm sure Wade Wilson would be right there, taking responsibility for that." He scoffed at the boy. The whole thing made Eddie sick.
Here was the killer, weeping and begging for his life, obviously repentant, but still unwilling, or perhaps unable, to take responsibility for his actions. Probably thought that if he blamed it on someone else, someone would pity him. Eddie didn't fall for it. He doesn't want to accept responsibility? Fine. Make him take responsibility. His finger tightened around the trigger, ready to blow Wade's brains across the ground. Nicole's voice froze his muscles.
Turning to face the girl, he pulled his finger away from the trigger. What would she think, if he actually killed Wade? Would she still be able to look at him the same way, if he shot a man in cold blood. Did any of that matter? After a moment of thought, Eddie knew that it did. "N-Nicole. This is...I'm...."
Flash of movement from the ground. Snapping his head back, Eddie felt the pressure against his finger as the rifle kicked in his hands, he watched as shot blew out the back of Wade's skull. For a long moment, long enough for the ringing to leave his ears, Eddie didn't do anything, save let his mouth hang open. Blinking at the spray of blood, bone, and brain matter, he couldn't wrap his mind around what has transpired. Wade blew his own head off.
A yawing pit opened in Eddie's gut, as he stared at the bloody, powder scorched hole in the boy's head. Not quite sure what to feel, he simply stepped back from the body and sat down hard on the ground. He supposed he should feel unburdened. Wade was dead, after all. Justice had been served, right? He might have felt a bit cheated out of his kill, if he wasn't so relieve he hadn't actually had to kill the boy himself. The blood was already pooling and running in thick rivers. If this was justice, he wanted no part in it.
Dark eyes never leaving Wade's body, Eddie tried to make him feel something for the boy, but found he couldn't. It wasn't really his fault, of course. Just a bad trip. Eddie still hated the bastard so much it hurt. He deserved everything he got. Fuck pity and fuck Wade Wilson. The hate made his stomach turn. Returning his eyes to Nicole, he could only think of one thing to say.
"I'm so fucked up."
Here was the killer, weeping and begging for his life, obviously repentant, but still unwilling, or perhaps unable, to take responsibility for his actions. Probably thought that if he blamed it on someone else, someone would pity him. Eddie didn't fall for it. He doesn't want to accept responsibility? Fine. Make him take responsibility. His finger tightened around the trigger, ready to blow Wade's brains across the ground. Nicole's voice froze his muscles.
Turning to face the girl, he pulled his finger away from the trigger. What would she think, if he actually killed Wade? Would she still be able to look at him the same way, if he shot a man in cold blood. Did any of that matter? After a moment of thought, Eddie knew that it did. "N-Nicole. This is...I'm...."
Flash of movement from the ground. Snapping his head back, Eddie felt the pressure against his finger as the rifle kicked in his hands, he watched as shot blew out the back of Wade's skull. For a long moment, long enough for the ringing to leave his ears, Eddie didn't do anything, save let his mouth hang open. Blinking at the spray of blood, bone, and brain matter, he couldn't wrap his mind around what has transpired. Wade blew his own head off.
A yawing pit opened in Eddie's gut, as he stared at the bloody, powder scorched hole in the boy's head. Not quite sure what to feel, he simply stepped back from the body and sat down hard on the ground. He supposed he should feel unburdened. Wade was dead, after all. Justice had been served, right? He might have felt a bit cheated out of his kill, if he wasn't so relieve he hadn't actually had to kill the boy himself. The blood was already pooling and running in thick rivers. If this was justice, he wanted no part in it.
Dark eyes never leaving Wade's body, Eddie tried to make him feel something for the boy, but found he couldn't. It wasn't really his fault, of course. Just a bad trip. Eddie still hated the bastard so much it hurt. He deserved everything he got. Fuck pity and fuck Wade Wilson. The hate made his stomach turn. Returning his eyes to Nicole, he could only think of one thing to say.
"I'm so fucked up."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler DetectiveArcher.
OOC: The ammo thing seems odd, I know, but I looked through Wade's topics and when he got the gun the post said he pocketted all the ammo. Nothing said he put it in his (apparently absent now) daypack, so I really had no choice but to assume they're still in his pockets, and therefore falling out. I hope this isn't offensive or anything.
IC:
Nicole had seen people die before, it came with the very nature of the game. Sometimes she was even close enough that she could've taken a potshot at the killer if she hadn't been too scared to try it, and she could see the victim's blood or even hear their last words. However, she'd never been directly involved, or been quite as close as she was now, so when Wade suddenly tried to reach for the rifle's trigger and ended up with a sizeable chunk of his head blown off, she couldn't help but cry out from shock.
Jumping back, the gun was dropped to the soft, still rain-drenched grass as she stared wide-eyed at Ed and the dark blood gathering around what used to be Wade Wilson. She couldn't help but tremble, her knees shaking a little. She felt like she was going to be sick from the smell alone, let alone the sight of blood, bone, and brain matter scattered all over, but she couldn't let that get to her.
He...he just...this can't be happening...but it-it is...no, I can't be like this, I have to be strong, Wade was dangerous. Don't want Ed to see me affected like this. But it was still...oh Gods...is this going to happen to me eventually? Or am I going to have to do something like this?
Shaking her head, Nicole tried to stammer out a reply, as much for her benefit as for Ed's. If she didn't say something, anything, she thought she was going to scream. "Y-you're not, Ed," she said after a minute or so, sounding almost like she was trying to convince both Ed and herself, "I d-don't think so anyway. You...you did what you had to do, I think. He was dangerous, and...it's not like he left you any choice, right?"
Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that, Nikki. You heard what was going on when you were cowering inside, Ed wanted to do this. And it's only a matter of time until he does it to you. We're probably down to the final twenty now, you think he'll really hesitate about putting a bullet in your pretty face when it comes down to it?
Forcing the more cynical thoughts in her head down, Nicole almost involuntarily moved her own gaze downwards, towards the ground that was now wet with not only rainwater from the storm that had only ended the other day but blood. Even though it wasn't, she couldn't help but imagine it as her blood for a moment, even as she tried to look Ed in the eye while waiting for his response. If it weren't for the blood, the ground wouldn't have been very interesting. There was her pistol, which was all but useless, and then Ed's feet and Wade's corpse behind them.
Huh?
Her eyes fixed on Ed's shoes and Wade's corpse, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye after a few seconds. Looking over to what it was, she noticed a pistol on the grass, probably Wade's. Partly out of curiosity, and partly out of a part of her mind wanting something to defend herself with, she brought her eyes up and took a step forward. When Ed didn't go berserk and send hot lead through her chest, she nodded towards the pistol. "I'm...just going to pick that up, if it's okay. No point wasting it, right? Besides, the gun I got is kinda useless unless you're Spetznaz or something, and I don't know if my body was enough of a clue but I'm not."
Maybe it wasn't the right time for jokes, but she couldn't help but feel some of the tension she'd faced lift a bit, though she didn't know if she'd succeeded in doing anything other than embarassing Ed. Taking some more steps towards the gun, she crouched a bit and picked it up, looking at it. She didn't know enough about guns to recognise the model, but it was heavier than the one Danya had given her, probably more useful too. When she noticed that what appeared to be ammo clips were spilling out of Wade's (or what used to be Wade, anyway) pockets, she made her way over, but hesitated after reaching for the pocket. Was this right? What gave her the right to do this?
I'll need it, that has to be enough.
Steeling herself, she rooted through the man's pockets even as the smell of blood and death made her grimace and tear up, managing to retrieve the ammo stored there and place them in her own pockets, noting to herself that she'd need to put some of the ammo in her pack, as there was quite a good deal of it. She'd never touched a corpse before, let alone robbed it of its belongings, and the pang of guilt rang quite loudly in her heart, but she shook her head before looking to Eddie.
I'm getting pretty sick of this place.
"I'm sorry," she offered, keeping the gun held low. "It's just that I'm having a hard time getting used to...to seeing stuff like this, I guess. Come on...I think we should get our stuff and leave. S-someone might've heard the gunshots, you know?"
Smiling nervously at Ed and trying to sound sincere, she waited for his response. If he agreed, she'd follow him inside to get her things, but part of her didn't want to leave her back turned to him for too long.
IC:
Nicole had seen people die before, it came with the very nature of the game. Sometimes she was even close enough that she could've taken a potshot at the killer if she hadn't been too scared to try it, and she could see the victim's blood or even hear their last words. However, she'd never been directly involved, or been quite as close as she was now, so when Wade suddenly tried to reach for the rifle's trigger and ended up with a sizeable chunk of his head blown off, she couldn't help but cry out from shock.
Jumping back, the gun was dropped to the soft, still rain-drenched grass as she stared wide-eyed at Ed and the dark blood gathering around what used to be Wade Wilson. She couldn't help but tremble, her knees shaking a little. She felt like she was going to be sick from the smell alone, let alone the sight of blood, bone, and brain matter scattered all over, but she couldn't let that get to her.
He...he just...this can't be happening...but it-it is...no, I can't be like this, I have to be strong, Wade was dangerous. Don't want Ed to see me affected like this. But it was still...oh Gods...is this going to happen to me eventually? Or am I going to have to do something like this?
Shaking her head, Nicole tried to stammer out a reply, as much for her benefit as for Ed's. If she didn't say something, anything, she thought she was going to scream. "Y-you're not, Ed," she said after a minute or so, sounding almost like she was trying to convince both Ed and herself, "I d-don't think so anyway. You...you did what you had to do, I think. He was dangerous, and...it's not like he left you any choice, right?"
Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that, Nikki. You heard what was going on when you were cowering inside, Ed wanted to do this. And it's only a matter of time until he does it to you. We're probably down to the final twenty now, you think he'll really hesitate about putting a bullet in your pretty face when it comes down to it?
Forcing the more cynical thoughts in her head down, Nicole almost involuntarily moved her own gaze downwards, towards the ground that was now wet with not only rainwater from the storm that had only ended the other day but blood. Even though it wasn't, she couldn't help but imagine it as her blood for a moment, even as she tried to look Ed in the eye while waiting for his response. If it weren't for the blood, the ground wouldn't have been very interesting. There was her pistol, which was all but useless, and then Ed's feet and Wade's corpse behind them.
Huh?
Her eyes fixed on Ed's shoes and Wade's corpse, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye after a few seconds. Looking over to what it was, she noticed a pistol on the grass, probably Wade's. Partly out of curiosity, and partly out of a part of her mind wanting something to defend herself with, she brought her eyes up and took a step forward. When Ed didn't go berserk and send hot lead through her chest, she nodded towards the pistol. "I'm...just going to pick that up, if it's okay. No point wasting it, right? Besides, the gun I got is kinda useless unless you're Spetznaz or something, and I don't know if my body was enough of a clue but I'm not."
Maybe it wasn't the right time for jokes, but she couldn't help but feel some of the tension she'd faced lift a bit, though she didn't know if she'd succeeded in doing anything other than embarassing Ed. Taking some more steps towards the gun, she crouched a bit and picked it up, looking at it. She didn't know enough about guns to recognise the model, but it was heavier than the one Danya had given her, probably more useful too. When she noticed that what appeared to be ammo clips were spilling out of Wade's (or what used to be Wade, anyway) pockets, she made her way over, but hesitated after reaching for the pocket. Was this right? What gave her the right to do this?
I'll need it, that has to be enough.
Steeling herself, she rooted through the man's pockets even as the smell of blood and death made her grimace and tear up, managing to retrieve the ammo stored there and place them in her own pockets, noting to herself that she'd need to put some of the ammo in her pack, as there was quite a good deal of it. She'd never touched a corpse before, let alone robbed it of its belongings, and the pang of guilt rang quite loudly in her heart, but she shook her head before looking to Eddie.
I'm getting pretty sick of this place.
"I'm sorry," she offered, keeping the gun held low. "It's just that I'm having a hard time getting used to...to seeing stuff like this, I guess. Come on...I think we should get our stuff and leave. S-someone might've heard the gunshots, you know?"
Smiling nervously at Ed and trying to sound sincere, she waited for his response. If he agreed, she'd follow him inside to get her things, but part of her didn't want to leave her back turned to him for too long.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
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DetectiveArcher†
- Posts: 163
- Joined: Mon Sep 10, 2018 7:45 pm
((GMing approved by Kyle))
The blood was running in small rivers now, the ground refusing to soak up the dark liquid. Snaking tendrils of scarlet, winding away from Wade's head. Small chunks of grey and white dotted the stream of blood, the misplaced bits of the boy's ruined head speckled the dirt. The air was beginning to grow cold, as the sun began to retreat, leaving this place of death to the darkness it belonged in. The smell of cordite still hung heavily in the air. Nicole was saying something, but Eddie wasn't really paying much attention.
So, this was what he'd spent so much time and energy looking for? This was what Jimmy died for? This was justice? He'd expected some sort of release. Catharsis, that's what it was called, right? Taking in the sight, he was sure he didn't feel anything close to relief. Wade's skull was sprayed across the blood soaked ground, and all Eddie could feel were more pangs of guilt. The weight was starting to be more than he could bear. The bastard had certainly deserved it, but the fact didn't leave Eddie's hands any less bloody. The dark eyed eavesdropper was getting so goddamned tired.
Nicole was talking again. She was asking permission to pick up Wade's gun. Eddie didn't care one way or the other. Too busy wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't even take notice of the girl's apparent fear. "Huh? Oh...y-yeah. G-go ahead, I don't c-care." He watched as she took the gun and ammunition, searching Wade's pockets for their contents. Eddie sighed and rubbed at the back of his head. Nicole was proving to be very practical. Just like Laeil. He wondered if he'd wind up bleeding and on his own again, soon.
The pretty redhead apologized as she fidgeted, nervously keeping the gun well away from a threatening position. The dark haired boy shook his head as he noted to tone of her voice. Another boot hit him in the stomach. She was afraid of him, now. Probably hated him. Eddie couldn't blame her; he hated himself, too.
"D-don't worry ab-bout it. If you g-got used to it, you w-wouldn't be y-you anymore." You'd be like me, he thought bitterly. Nodding at Nicole's request to leave, slowly rose to his feet. "Y-yeah. Let's g-get out of here." He led the way inside, and went about gathering his belongings. Neither of them said anything as they collected their things, the silence hanging so thick Eddie could feel it pressing against his skin. Leaving the mess hall behind them and heading into the jungle, he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. He tried to say find anything to say, but quickly shut his mouth again. They walked in silence.
((Edward Sullivan and Nicole Husher continued in The Answer)).
The blood was running in small rivers now, the ground refusing to soak up the dark liquid. Snaking tendrils of scarlet, winding away from Wade's head. Small chunks of grey and white dotted the stream of blood, the misplaced bits of the boy's ruined head speckled the dirt. The air was beginning to grow cold, as the sun began to retreat, leaving this place of death to the darkness it belonged in. The smell of cordite still hung heavily in the air. Nicole was saying something, but Eddie wasn't really paying much attention.
So, this was what he'd spent so much time and energy looking for? This was what Jimmy died for? This was justice? He'd expected some sort of release. Catharsis, that's what it was called, right? Taking in the sight, he was sure he didn't feel anything close to relief. Wade's skull was sprayed across the blood soaked ground, and all Eddie could feel were more pangs of guilt. The weight was starting to be more than he could bear. The bastard had certainly deserved it, but the fact didn't leave Eddie's hands any less bloody. The dark eyed eavesdropper was getting so goddamned tired.
Nicole was talking again. She was asking permission to pick up Wade's gun. Eddie didn't care one way or the other. Too busy wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't even take notice of the girl's apparent fear. "Huh? Oh...y-yeah. G-go ahead, I don't c-care." He watched as she took the gun and ammunition, searching Wade's pockets for their contents. Eddie sighed and rubbed at the back of his head. Nicole was proving to be very practical. Just like Laeil. He wondered if he'd wind up bleeding and on his own again, soon.
The pretty redhead apologized as she fidgeted, nervously keeping the gun well away from a threatening position. The dark haired boy shook his head as he noted to tone of her voice. Another boot hit him in the stomach. She was afraid of him, now. Probably hated him. Eddie couldn't blame her; he hated himself, too.
"D-don't worry ab-bout it. If you g-got used to it, you w-wouldn't be y-you anymore." You'd be like me, he thought bitterly. Nodding at Nicole's request to leave, slowly rose to his feet. "Y-yeah. Let's g-get out of here." He led the way inside, and went about gathering his belongings. Neither of them said anything as they collected their things, the silence hanging so thick Eddie could feel it pressing against his skin. Leaving the mess hall behind them and heading into the jungle, he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. He tried to say find anything to say, but quickly shut his mouth again. They walked in silence.
((Edward Sullivan and Nicole Husher continued in The Answer)).
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler DetectiveArcher.