No Exit
Private, Day 9
No Exit
((Erika Stieglitz continued from King's Crossing))
It took all the light left in the previous day to even get here, crossing through the middle of the island. Even checking the radar almost religiously, Erika saw almost no one on her way here. Occasionally she’d spot a body lying some distance away, most of them unrecognizable for one reason or another.
Seeing them that way, where it was hard to see their mortal wounds, gave off the eerie impression that some single calamity had descended on the island. Like everyone had just dropped dead on the spot. She tried to stop herself from pondering the likelihood of someone here catching some tropical disease and whether or not they’d tally deaths by transmission or not. Ultimately abstractions like that took up relatively little space in her mind; all she needed to think about was the living, who thankfully had left her well enough alone the rest of the day.
A few times on the way she’d worried she might faint from the heat, from exhaustion, or however much blood she had lost. The hard-fought journey to shelter eventually ended at a house at the edge of the eastern half of the village. It was in marginally better shape than the rest, insofar as it had an intact roof and walls.
There were no bodies inside either, living or dead, though the presence of death was impossible to shake off in this place. With the heat bearing down all day, the entire village smelled quite rank with decay and drying mud. The radar itself had not displayed any new dots, telling her it was secure enough for the time being. Somewhere she could finally rest, maybe even sleep.
Too used to lying on hard surfaces by this point, she chose not to flop down on the bed. Something about it didn’t seem right, like it would too readily channel the fantasy she’d been holding onto in her mind. About waking up at home, this all a horrible nightmare. Waking up in a bed would make it too easy to die, to convince herself to once again put a gun to her head. So she’d chosen a spot on the floor to rest, and eventually sleep deprivation and exhaustion won out over the fear of what would happen if she left her eyes closed for too long.
Waking up was an ordeal. It was no slow rise so much as a sudden shock of awareness. Pain and nausea were first, though they were quickly dwarfed by panic. She’d done almost nothing to bar the door, to give herself any warning in case someone walked in.
Nowhere is safe. Not even if I’m alone.
It wasn’t just contending with others at this point that drove her to sit herself up and frantically check that her weapons were loaded. Her own body and mind were just as much of a danger, from suicidal ideation to serious injuries that wouldn’t see any proper medical treatment for days, if at all.
Sleep had resolved at least one of those things. She wasn’t so much fixated on the idea of ending it all as fearing that soon she would want to once again, that she’d find herself in a place she couldn’t recognize and would decide it was time to leave. The idea wasn’t distant now, but it wasn’t where her mind was at.
As she changed her bandages, using torn linens and pieces of what seemed to be robes to wrap the gauze tightly against her body, she thought back to Lucas. About how many more of him were out there. How many people had made her their target, a reason to keep going? How many people would attack her not because they wanted to live, but just because they wanted her to die?
“Everyone I've met here and talked to agrees that you need to die.”
She fed cartridges into the Hi-Power’s magazine, making up for the seven she left in Lucas. Six more, to a total of thirteen. Looking down at the tiny box, she pictured them all lined up inside. It was marketed as a Hi-Power because it held more cartridges than was typical for pistols at the time. Thirteen was a lot for a handgun back in the thirties.
Thirteen dead. It wasn’t just their friends who would hunt her, either. That high number alone was reason enough for some people, those who weren’t motivated by vengeance. It burned away any connection she had to anyone left, too. Ty, Garnet, maybe even Faith would all prefer to see her dead than leaving this place.
Then there were all of those at home. Who despite everything they knew about the game, despite the bomb around her neck, would still hold Erika responsible. It might never end. The rest of her life, she’d be looking over her shoulder. Someone was always going to want to make her hurt for this.
Then they can come and fucking try it.
They might not have to. Lucas was doing a pretty good job, even after his death. She hissed through gritted teeth as she struggled to force herself back onto her feet, before halting at the sound of a loudspeaker crackling overhead.
The announcements played, the sick fuck continuing to keep the microphone way too close to his mouth such that they all heard his uncomfortably moist, coffee-drinking lips.
Danya’s list of deaths today seemed uniquely desperate. Ivy stabbing Tirzah in the eyes was a highlight, if only in that it remained shocking that Ivy was still even alive at this point. Justin beating Sean to death with a durian fruit, Julien evidently meeting some horrid demise at Blaise’s hands, Willow doing - something - to Sierra.
The most useful information he left was the location of the danger zone - the Pier, just north of here. That meant that the village was now sandwiched between a few different danger zones. It left only a few immediate means of ingress, should she choose to remain here.
Choose. That’s funny.
She stood up, successfully this time, by using the windowsill above her as support. It was time to choose, then. This place was as good as any, but it still remained a shelter. Still a place that would draw in others.
The beach, to the north. Lighthouse is out, so the north end is the next best thing. Find some natural shelter. Limit my exposure, recover. Let Justin, Blaise, and Michael thin out the rest. Let them burn themselves out. I’ve got a way to stay safe, make sure no one can surprise me from here on out.
Switching the collar radar on, she balked at the sudden appearance of three dots at opposite ends of the device’s range, all closing in on the house. Looking out the window, she couldn’t see movement. There was no way out that didn’t mean going through someone, and the radar left no indication as to who they might be.
At first she threw open the window, thinking to climb out. One pathetic attempt was enough to make it clear to her she wasn’t doing that quickly or at all. Her eyes darted around the room, settling on the bed. Hiding under it, perhaps?
A monster actually under the bed this time, hmm? Won’t work, same reason.
“Fuck.”
Looking behind her, she noticed a small sliding door leading into a closet. As quickly as her body would allow, she flung it open and stepped inside. There was a time when she would’ve taken this as another opportunity to speed up the game, using the collar radar as a means of setting up an ambush. Shoot her way out, then leave.
The problem was, she didn’t know what the cost would be this time. At the Infirmary it was bruises and a nasty cut. In the Garden it was a pellet of buckshot to the leg. With Amber it was a mental image that would never leave. Lucas only barely failed to kill her.
The next one just might. Whether it was a mortal wound or a mental one, she was now more than ever keenly aware of just how little of herself she had left to sacrifice.
She closed the door, her vision now a wall of darkness save a long line of white light in the crease of the hinged door, and the soft glow from the collar radar’s screen. Erika watched the dots move closer to the building, and fell still.
It took all the light left in the previous day to even get here, crossing through the middle of the island. Even checking the radar almost religiously, Erika saw almost no one on her way here. Occasionally she’d spot a body lying some distance away, most of them unrecognizable for one reason or another.
Seeing them that way, where it was hard to see their mortal wounds, gave off the eerie impression that some single calamity had descended on the island. Like everyone had just dropped dead on the spot. She tried to stop herself from pondering the likelihood of someone here catching some tropical disease and whether or not they’d tally deaths by transmission or not. Ultimately abstractions like that took up relatively little space in her mind; all she needed to think about was the living, who thankfully had left her well enough alone the rest of the day.
A few times on the way she’d worried she might faint from the heat, from exhaustion, or however much blood she had lost. The hard-fought journey to shelter eventually ended at a house at the edge of the eastern half of the village. It was in marginally better shape than the rest, insofar as it had an intact roof and walls.
There were no bodies inside either, living or dead, though the presence of death was impossible to shake off in this place. With the heat bearing down all day, the entire village smelled quite rank with decay and drying mud. The radar itself had not displayed any new dots, telling her it was secure enough for the time being. Somewhere she could finally rest, maybe even sleep.
Too used to lying on hard surfaces by this point, she chose not to flop down on the bed. Something about it didn’t seem right, like it would too readily channel the fantasy she’d been holding onto in her mind. About waking up at home, this all a horrible nightmare. Waking up in a bed would make it too easy to die, to convince herself to once again put a gun to her head. So she’d chosen a spot on the floor to rest, and eventually sleep deprivation and exhaustion won out over the fear of what would happen if she left her eyes closed for too long.
Waking up was an ordeal. It was no slow rise so much as a sudden shock of awareness. Pain and nausea were first, though they were quickly dwarfed by panic. She’d done almost nothing to bar the door, to give herself any warning in case someone walked in.
Nowhere is safe. Not even if I’m alone.
It wasn’t just contending with others at this point that drove her to sit herself up and frantically check that her weapons were loaded. Her own body and mind were just as much of a danger, from suicidal ideation to serious injuries that wouldn’t see any proper medical treatment for days, if at all.
Sleep had resolved at least one of those things. She wasn’t so much fixated on the idea of ending it all as fearing that soon she would want to once again, that she’d find herself in a place she couldn’t recognize and would decide it was time to leave. The idea wasn’t distant now, but it wasn’t where her mind was at.
As she changed her bandages, using torn linens and pieces of what seemed to be robes to wrap the gauze tightly against her body, she thought back to Lucas. About how many more of him were out there. How many people had made her their target, a reason to keep going? How many people would attack her not because they wanted to live, but just because they wanted her to die?
“Everyone I've met here and talked to agrees that you need to die.”
She fed cartridges into the Hi-Power’s magazine, making up for the seven she left in Lucas. Six more, to a total of thirteen. Looking down at the tiny box, she pictured them all lined up inside. It was marketed as a Hi-Power because it held more cartridges than was typical for pistols at the time. Thirteen was a lot for a handgun back in the thirties.
Thirteen dead. It wasn’t just their friends who would hunt her, either. That high number alone was reason enough for some people, those who weren’t motivated by vengeance. It burned away any connection she had to anyone left, too. Ty, Garnet, maybe even Faith would all prefer to see her dead than leaving this place.
Then there were all of those at home. Who despite everything they knew about the game, despite the bomb around her neck, would still hold Erika responsible. It might never end. The rest of her life, she’d be looking over her shoulder. Someone was always going to want to make her hurt for this.
Then they can come and fucking try it.
They might not have to. Lucas was doing a pretty good job, even after his death. She hissed through gritted teeth as she struggled to force herself back onto her feet, before halting at the sound of a loudspeaker crackling overhead.
The announcements played, the sick fuck continuing to keep the microphone way too close to his mouth such that they all heard his uncomfortably moist, coffee-drinking lips.
Danya’s list of deaths today seemed uniquely desperate. Ivy stabbing Tirzah in the eyes was a highlight, if only in that it remained shocking that Ivy was still even alive at this point. Justin beating Sean to death with a durian fruit, Julien evidently meeting some horrid demise at Blaise’s hands, Willow doing - something - to Sierra.
The most useful information he left was the location of the danger zone - the Pier, just north of here. That meant that the village was now sandwiched between a few different danger zones. It left only a few immediate means of ingress, should she choose to remain here.
Choose. That’s funny.
She stood up, successfully this time, by using the windowsill above her as support. It was time to choose, then. This place was as good as any, but it still remained a shelter. Still a place that would draw in others.
The beach, to the north. Lighthouse is out, so the north end is the next best thing. Find some natural shelter. Limit my exposure, recover. Let Justin, Blaise, and Michael thin out the rest. Let them burn themselves out. I’ve got a way to stay safe, make sure no one can surprise me from here on out.
Switching the collar radar on, she balked at the sudden appearance of three dots at opposite ends of the device’s range, all closing in on the house. Looking out the window, she couldn’t see movement. There was no way out that didn’t mean going through someone, and the radar left no indication as to who they might be.
At first she threw open the window, thinking to climb out. One pathetic attempt was enough to make it clear to her she wasn’t doing that quickly or at all. Her eyes darted around the room, settling on the bed. Hiding under it, perhaps?
A monster actually under the bed this time, hmm? Won’t work, same reason.
“Fuck.”
Looking behind her, she noticed a small sliding door leading into a closet. As quickly as her body would allow, she flung it open and stepped inside. There was a time when she would’ve taken this as another opportunity to speed up the game, using the collar radar as a means of setting up an ambush. Shoot her way out, then leave.
The problem was, she didn’t know what the cost would be this time. At the Infirmary it was bruises and a nasty cut. In the Garden it was a pellet of buckshot to the leg. With Amber it was a mental image that would never leave. Lucas only barely failed to kill her.
The next one just might. Whether it was a mortal wound or a mental one, she was now more than ever keenly aware of just how little of herself she had left to sacrifice.
She closed the door, her vision now a wall of darkness save a long line of white light in the crease of the hinged door, and the soft glow from the collar radar’s screen. Erika watched the dots move closer to the building, and fell still.
((Garnet continued from Terminal Gardener))
Apparently Garnet was just a home invader now.
She'd shouldered open three front doors already and was fixing for a fourth. Going house to house, maybe it wasn't the smartest, but how else to find people but being loud and being brash? She hadn't ran into anyone for a while, and she was kind of wishing she'd stuck with the girls back at the other place long enough to exchange a little conversation, just enough to start feeling somewhere closer to normal. Maybe it was for the best though. Normal didn't exist any more. What was the point of grasping for something that would shred away beneath her fingers?
Why bother, when that was ripped to shreds by another death toll?
Two more. Two more. Two more.
Did that guilt and shame drag Garnet back into the town? The thought of what she'd done here, the person she'd helped. Even thinking her name hurt.
Garnet opened the door hard, it slammed the wall.
"Anyone the hell here or whatever?"
She'd lost some of the heart for the bark.
Apparently Garnet was just a home invader now.
She'd shouldered open three front doors already and was fixing for a fourth. Going house to house, maybe it wasn't the smartest, but how else to find people but being loud and being brash? She hadn't ran into anyone for a while, and she was kind of wishing she'd stuck with the girls back at the other place long enough to exchange a little conversation, just enough to start feeling somewhere closer to normal. Maybe it was for the best though. Normal didn't exist any more. What was the point of grasping for something that would shred away beneath her fingers?
Why bother, when that was ripped to shreds by another death toll?
Two more. Two more. Two more.
Did that guilt and shame drag Garnet back into the town? The thought of what she'd done here, the person she'd helped. Even thinking her name hurt.
Garnet opened the door hard, it slammed the wall.
"Anyone the hell here or whatever?"
She'd lost some of the heart for the bark.
((Yuka Hayashibara continues from Ron Gets a Bath As Well, Whether He Wants To or Not))
The announcements came and passed by Yuka earlier. They didn't scare her anymore. Yuki and Yuko were both dead, there was nothing left for them to take.
Sleep had also completely passed her by. She felt light, translucent, as if she might float away. Again, it was silent between her and Teresa. Not out of spite or anger or some feeling of being wronged, but because she lacked the energy to converse.
There were a few names repeating in her mind, the old ones, the ones she'd had in mind since her sisters died, and by this point in time, the names were thought less with rage and righteous fury and more because they'd been thought of the second before, because it was part of the automatic pattern her mind had fallen into. Erika, Katrina, Michael, Nick, from most to least priority. It was all she was capable of thinking, all she felt like thinking about.
Erika had shown up twice, again, Michael once, they were both still alive. She honestly didn't give a fuck about who they killed, she didn't know them, she didn't have the capacity to care for anyone else at the moment. The only thing of note was that they both shot their victims, so Teresa and Yuka were outgunned, but what was new?
A wave of nausea started to creep in, and it took thirty, forty seconds for Yuka to realize why. It was the houses. She'd last been here with Yuki, before they found Yuko. Or, not here, perhaps. Around half were more or less destroyed, decades of degradation that the houses she'd been in before hadn't undergone. But, they looked familiar. They smelled familiar. That rusting putrefaction, the decay that had gone well past the point of sick sweetness into something indescribable. There was a constant buzz of flies in the air, if you listened closely.
It smelled like Yuko here.
Her stomach churned, but she kept it down. Earlier this morning, she scratched at the mosquito bites on the side of her torso, and felt ridges of bone where there had been none before. She couldn't afford to throw up, anymore.
Eventually, she picked up on some shouting in the distance, about twenty feet or so away, in front of a house. Another person, maybe someone with info. Garnet, Yuko's teammate, Yuka remembered. Her and Teresa's talks last night on strategy and tactics had been less than productive, so it was the old routine for now. Ask a name, get some or no answers, maybe try to rob them if they felt like it. That thought made Yuka worry slightly, the thought of repeating the encounter with Nick and the rock - with her right hand, she rubbed above the stumps on her left hand - but they wouldn't repeat things the exact same way. They'd learned, she'd hoped. Right?
Anyways,
She nudged Teresa's rib, nodded in the direction of Garnet. Yuka spoke up.
"We're here," she hollered back. "You seen Erika or Katrina around or whatever? Or Nick? Or... Froze? Fro-easy? Michael, blonde twig kid. Just wanna talk with one of them."
The announcements came and passed by Yuka earlier. They didn't scare her anymore. Yuki and Yuko were both dead, there was nothing left for them to take.
Sleep had also completely passed her by. She felt light, translucent, as if she might float away. Again, it was silent between her and Teresa. Not out of spite or anger or some feeling of being wronged, but because she lacked the energy to converse.
There were a few names repeating in her mind, the old ones, the ones she'd had in mind since her sisters died, and by this point in time, the names were thought less with rage and righteous fury and more because they'd been thought of the second before, because it was part of the automatic pattern her mind had fallen into. Erika, Katrina, Michael, Nick, from most to least priority. It was all she was capable of thinking, all she felt like thinking about.
Erika had shown up twice, again, Michael once, they were both still alive. She honestly didn't give a fuck about who they killed, she didn't know them, she didn't have the capacity to care for anyone else at the moment. The only thing of note was that they both shot their victims, so Teresa and Yuka were outgunned, but what was new?
A wave of nausea started to creep in, and it took thirty, forty seconds for Yuka to realize why. It was the houses. She'd last been here with Yuki, before they found Yuko. Or, not here, perhaps. Around half were more or less destroyed, decades of degradation that the houses she'd been in before hadn't undergone. But, they looked familiar. They smelled familiar. That rusting putrefaction, the decay that had gone well past the point of sick sweetness into something indescribable. There was a constant buzz of flies in the air, if you listened closely.
It smelled like Yuko here.
Her stomach churned, but she kept it down. Earlier this morning, she scratched at the mosquito bites on the side of her torso, and felt ridges of bone where there had been none before. She couldn't afford to throw up, anymore.
Eventually, she picked up on some shouting in the distance, about twenty feet or so away, in front of a house. Another person, maybe someone with info. Garnet, Yuko's teammate, Yuka remembered. Her and Teresa's talks last night on strategy and tactics had been less than productive, so it was the old routine for now. Ask a name, get some or no answers, maybe try to rob them if they felt like it. That thought made Yuka worry slightly, the thought of repeating the encounter with Nick and the rock - with her right hand, she rubbed above the stumps on her left hand - but they wouldn't repeat things the exact same way. They'd learned, she'd hoped. Right?
Anyways,
She nudged Teresa's rib, nodded in the direction of Garnet. Yuka spoke up.
"We're here," she hollered back. "You seen Erika or Katrina around or whatever? Or Nick? Or... Froze? Fro-easy? Michael, blonde twig kid. Just wanna talk with one of them."
((continued from giving Ron a bath))
Announcements were kinda lit today.
Erika kept on keeping on and double booking murders, it seemed. How many did that make... had to be double digits somewhere by now. Fucking overachievers, man. But like, the less people the better so...
Willow was a bit of a shock. Well, not the name, but like Sierra of all people? On God? Love to see it, whore. The story there must've been juicy Maury type shit but like tbh it wasn't enough to warrant a reunion show with her or Katrina.
Aliya got got now. That lake brawl seemed like ages ago, but man. Paloma was really the last one alive from there. Now that was a girl that kept winning. Straight up got away with Cain'ing Abel.
Michael, again.
God, it was still too fucking hot. Homegirl wasn't built for being stuck without A/C for a week.
Yuka poked her in the rib, so... oh. It was one of those little basketball bitches, the same one from the pond with the cages and shit that fucked outta there before Reuben ran into that stray knife. Small world.
The other girl raised the needle gun slight, still plausibly pointed at the ground. "Yeah," she shouted after Yuka, "if you know anything about some Darlene bitch, that'd be good, too."
Announcements were kinda lit today.
Erika kept on keeping on and double booking murders, it seemed. How many did that make... had to be double digits somewhere by now. Fucking overachievers, man. But like, the less people the better so...
Willow was a bit of a shock. Well, not the name, but like Sierra of all people? On God? Love to see it, whore. The story there must've been juicy Maury type shit but like tbh it wasn't enough to warrant a reunion show with her or Katrina.
Aliya got got now. That lake brawl seemed like ages ago, but man. Paloma was really the last one alive from there. Now that was a girl that kept winning. Straight up got away with Cain'ing Abel.
Michael, again.
God, it was still too fucking hot. Homegirl wasn't built for being stuck without A/C for a week.
Yuka poked her in the rib, so... oh. It was one of those little basketball bitches, the same one from the pond with the cages and shit that fucked outta there before Reuben ran into that stray knife. Small world.
The other girl raised the needle gun slight, still plausibly pointed at the ground. "Yeah," she shouted after Yuka, "if you know anything about some Darlene bitch, that'd be good, too."
She turned.
She stopped.
Not inside the house, but outside, standing out there in the dirt track of a street. Being loud still worked for drawing attention, huh?
Garnet looked at the two girls, calling out from a distance. Asking after people. Erika, again--yeah, join the club with that one--Michael, a multiple time killer himself. Nick, well, that she could answer but the information was completely out of date. Katrina, who'd killed a teammate from another team. Yuko... Garnet pulled herself out of her thoughts. Everyone they'd named had killed, except Darlene (who was that?). They didn't have the same goals as her, did they? Perhaps she had an opportunity here to y'know, get together a kind of force multiplier, have a sane conversation with a kindred spirit. Maybe that'd work out, then, maybe--
Garnet looked closer, past the grime and the wounds, past the distance.
No. No it wouldn't.
Yuka. Teresa. They had a body count themselves. Reuben. Roxie. (A pang at that, a reminder, another failure. Could she not have just... stayed at the boat? Given up on Marco? Finding him did her no good, and if she'd stayed, Megan, Richard, Roxie...)
Paying close attention to the announcements had something to say for itself. There was a little recompense for tearing up her own heart every morning.
These two had each killed, and call it a judgement, call it a bad vibe, but--Garnet clenched the rifle tighter.
Could she do this? Yuko's sister was out there.
She'd killed Roxie.
She was Yuko's sister.
She'd killed Roxie.
Garnet raised the rifle. Her hands were shaking.
She was supposed to yell something brash and brave and pithy. She was coming up blank.
She pulled the trigger.
She stopped.
Not inside the house, but outside, standing out there in the dirt track of a street. Being loud still worked for drawing attention, huh?
Garnet looked at the two girls, calling out from a distance. Asking after people. Erika, again--yeah, join the club with that one--Michael, a multiple time killer himself. Nick, well, that she could answer but the information was completely out of date. Katrina, who'd killed a teammate from another team. Yuko... Garnet pulled herself out of her thoughts. Everyone they'd named had killed, except Darlene (who was that?). They didn't have the same goals as her, did they? Perhaps she had an opportunity here to y'know, get together a kind of force multiplier, have a sane conversation with a kindred spirit. Maybe that'd work out, then, maybe--
Garnet looked closer, past the grime and the wounds, past the distance.
No. No it wouldn't.
Yuka. Teresa. They had a body count themselves. Reuben. Roxie. (A pang at that, a reminder, another failure. Could she not have just... stayed at the boat? Given up on Marco? Finding him did her no good, and if she'd stayed, Megan, Richard, Roxie...)
Paying close attention to the announcements had something to say for itself. There was a little recompense for tearing up her own heart every morning.
These two had each killed, and call it a judgement, call it a bad vibe, but--Garnet clenched the rifle tighter.
Could she do this? Yuko's sister was out there.
She'd killed Roxie.
She was Yuko's sister.
She'd killed Roxie.
Garnet raised the rifle. Her hands were shaking.
She was supposed to yell something brash and brave and pithy. She was coming up blank.
She pulled the trigger.
Ah.
Well, at least they weren't the instigators this time. Moral ascendancy, or whatever that meant.
The shot went wide, Yuka flinched, thought she heard wood splintering behind her. She looked up, Garnet was still fumbling with the gun. It looked like a good weapon in the right hands.
Wordlessly, she pulled the knife from the hem of her skirt and ran straight towards Garnet.
Well, at least they weren't the instigators this time. Moral ascendancy, or whatever that meant.
The shot went wide, Yuka flinched, thought she heard wood splintering behind her. She looked up, Garnet was still fumbling with the gun. It looked like a good weapon in the right hands.
Wordlessly, she pulled the knife from the hem of her skirt and ran straight towards Garnet.
Woah, SHIT!
The other girl skittered right. Wood cracked behind her. Did she get hit? No. No, she was still good. Good enough, anyway. Shit really was getting real now, huh?
She fired a round from the needle gun aimed at whatever, and she ran around to the other side of Garnet. Not at her, but close enough. Yuka had that covered. Go get 'em, tiger.
The other girl skittered right. Wood cracked behind her. Did she get hit? No. No, she was still good. Good enough, anyway. Shit really was getting real now, huh?
She fired a round from the needle gun aimed at whatever, and she ran around to the other side of Garnet. Not at her, but close enough. Yuka had that covered. Go get 'em, tiger.
Voices. The first, called out into the house well enough for Erika to hear. Recognizing Garnet, she tried to shrink further towards the back wall of the little closet, finding no space to do so. After their discussion, after what she’d done subsequently, it was hard to imagine they were going to be on speaking terms again.
Stay hidden. Wait for her to leave. It doesn’t have to be me. I don’t want it to be me. If she tries anything, it will be.
The two other dots on the radar moved closer. Erika heard one other voice call out, but didn’t recognize who it belonged to. Her own name came up, validating her concerns that people would actively seek her out. Garnet knew she’d been hurt, and if she’d listened to what Erika had told her and grabbed the Martini-Henry -
A familiar deep report interrupted her thinking, sending her shuffling downwards inside of the closet. There was no reason a shot going wide wouldn’t just punch through much of the building, given how much lead that thing threw out. Another quieter shot preceded the sounds of a scuffle occurring outside. Erika set the collar radar down beside her, placing a hand on the door.
Garnet.
It was an instinct. She didn’t even think about doing it, she just moved. Ready to throw the doors open, to join the fray. To put down whoever was threatening her friend like she’d done so many times before.
"It's not too late."
Her hand trembled against the wood. It was too late for any of that. If she was writing off Garnet in her head as a casualty of getting out of here, there was no nursing fantasies of saving her. Of being someone people were happy to see, who was there to help.
Erika sat back against the rear wall of the closet, keeping the shotgun trained on the door.
She would wait.
Stay hidden. Wait for her to leave. It doesn’t have to be me. I don’t want it to be me. If she tries anything, it will be.
The two other dots on the radar moved closer. Erika heard one other voice call out, but didn’t recognize who it belonged to. Her own name came up, validating her concerns that people would actively seek her out. Garnet knew she’d been hurt, and if she’d listened to what Erika had told her and grabbed the Martini-Henry -
A familiar deep report interrupted her thinking, sending her shuffling downwards inside of the closet. There was no reason a shot going wide wouldn’t just punch through much of the building, given how much lead that thing threw out. Another quieter shot preceded the sounds of a scuffle occurring outside. Erika set the collar radar down beside her, placing a hand on the door.
Garnet.
It was an instinct. She didn’t even think about doing it, she just moved. Ready to throw the doors open, to join the fray. To put down whoever was threatening her friend like she’d done so many times before.
"It's not too late."
Her hand trembled against the wood. It was too late for any of that. If she was writing off Garnet in her head as a casualty of getting out of here, there was no nursing fantasies of saving her. Of being someone people were happy to see, who was there to help.
Erika sat back against the rear wall of the closet, keeping the shotgun trained on the door.
She would wait.
She missed, of course she missed, she hadn't fired a gun in her life, what are you doing Garnet, what are you doing?
Yuka--Yuko's sister, let's not forget--charged at her.
Garnet made a noise that was something like a yell, something like a whimper, and backpedalled into the house. How did this thing work, did she have to--fuck fuck fuck fuck!
Yuka--Yuko's sister, let's not forget--charged at her.
Garnet made a noise that was something like a yell, something like a whimper, and backpedalled into the house. How did this thing work, did she have to--fuck fuck fuck fuck!
She hadn't even done anything, was the funny thing. She'd literally just asked a question, and then she got answered with a bullet.
If Garnet hated her, she hated her. She just needed to know that everything that happened from here on out was her fault. The lack of accountability, blame on Yuka's part was refreshing, honestly.
Yuka bolted into the house after Garnet. A plank laid on the ground, near the door. She stuck the knife into the hem of her skirt, picked up the plank, and threw it at her. Then, she charged.
If Garnet hated her, she hated her. She just needed to know that everything that happened from here on out was her fault. The lack of accountability, blame on Yuka's part was refreshing, honestly.
Yuka bolted into the house after Garnet. A plank laid on the ground, near the door. She stuck the knife into the hem of her skirt, picked up the plank, and threw it at her. Then, she charged.
Now it was a party.
The other girl stopped short of the door, back pressed against what little wall there was between the doorframe and the window while Yuka rushed down the front door.
Her hands couldn't stop trembling. Her breath was erratic. Couldn't stop smiling, either.
She needed a minute. Yuka got Garnet, at least enough to corner her. Eagle eye couldn't shoot for shit, anyway.
The other girl stopped short of the door, back pressed against what little wall there was between the doorframe and the window while Yuka rushed down the front door.
Her hands couldn't stop trembling. Her breath was erratic. Couldn't stop smiling, either.
She needed a minute. Yuka got Garnet, at least enough to corner her. Eagle eye couldn't shoot for shit, anyway.
One of the dots tore away from the others, no doubt the one running into the house and shouting. The other two moved - enough to figure that the shots Erika heard hadn't hit their targets. The fight was moving closer to the bedroom, close to this hiding spot of hers.
"Shit." Erika cursed under her breath, as she adjusted her position in the cramped closet.
It felt wrong to sit here and wait. Hiding, waiting for the others to tear each other apart. Not doing it herself, not being responsible for her own survival. Not facing this down, not sticking to the choices she'd made. Letting other people kill one another under the delusion it would save them, that it would make some point, that it would serve some personal vendetta. And letting that happen to Garnet, of all people. People like her didn't deserve to have been pushed that far.
No, I can handle this, I can step in. End things quickly.
She moved to get up, and immediately slumped back down against the back wall of the closet. The stabbing sensation in her side returned, demanding more of her than she had to give. Erika clenched her jaw, forcing the desire to cry out back down her throat. The only audible sound coming from her was a labored exhale through her nose, not enough to give her away.
Looks like I can't. Great.
Erika remained, watching the collar radar in between doleful glances out through the narrow crack in the door frame.
"Shit." Erika cursed under her breath, as she adjusted her position in the cramped closet.
It felt wrong to sit here and wait. Hiding, waiting for the others to tear each other apart. Not doing it herself, not being responsible for her own survival. Not facing this down, not sticking to the choices she'd made. Letting other people kill one another under the delusion it would save them, that it would make some point, that it would serve some personal vendetta. And letting that happen to Garnet, of all people. People like her didn't deserve to have been pushed that far.
No, I can handle this, I can step in. End things quickly.
She moved to get up, and immediately slumped back down against the back wall of the closet. The stabbing sensation in her side returned, demanding more of her than she had to give. Erika clenched her jaw, forcing the desire to cry out back down her throat. The only audible sound coming from her was a labored exhale through her nose, not enough to give her away.
Looks like I can't. Great.
Erika remained, watching the collar radar in between doleful glances out through the narrow crack in the door frame.
Garnet pulled the trigger again and it didn't go off. She wasn't sure she wanted it to go off. Had she pulled the trigger itself or just snatched at metal and kidded herself that she she what it took?
Yuka threw something at her and Garnet flinched, in spite of it falling short, and then Yuka was on top of her. Garnet shouted something, maybe a curse, flung out a flailing palm in warding.
Yuka threw something at her and Garnet flinched, in spite of it falling short, and then Yuka was on top of her. Garnet shouted something, maybe a curse, flung out a flailing palm in warding.
It worked, huh.
And, not to get ahead of herself here, but, it felt like she was winning. Like things weren't going to shit, for once. For once on this island, she felt good.
A bit of a smile grew on Yuka's face as she closed the distance. And then, the knife entered Garnet's arm and back again. And again. And again.
And, not to get ahead of herself here, but, it felt like she was winning. Like things weren't going to shit, for once. For once on this island, she felt good.
A bit of a smile grew on Yuka's face as she closed the distance. And then, the knife entered Garnet's arm and back again. And again. And again.
Okay. Okay. She was good now.
She rushes down the door to see Yuka going to town on Garnet.
Not much room to do anything else, so she hung back, hand on the trigger, and let Yuka do her thing.
She rushes down the door to see Yuka going to town on Garnet.
Not much room to do anything else, so she hung back, hand on the trigger, and let Yuka do her thing.