((Claire Monaghan continued from L'Avventura))
Once again, a short nap turned into a long night's sleep. Claire kicked herself when she was woken up by the announcements.She especially kicked herself when she heard the names on the announcement. One of the people Corey asked her to find, Rachael Langdon, had died, apparently in an act of betrayal by Marcus Leung. Then of course came the "last but not least" bullshit rhetoric that often got turned out in speeches. Kyran was dead. One of her oldest friends had been killed, by Joe Carrasco of all people.
Claire took a short time to mourn Kyran, but left the apartment she spent the night in. She completely botched her search for people yesterday, and now there were less people to find. By her count, there had to be just above thirty people left on the island, and that left only about two of her friends left. Time really was working against her here.
Claire spent most of the morning wandering the town area to see if anyone had passed through. To her dismay, she hadn't found much in the way of living people. She had to turn away from corpses, especially when they didn't look fresh. She didn't have time to bury anyone, nor did she really want to look at any of them.
After some time searching, Claire found herself in a small alley, crouched on the ground next to an old dumpster. She started munching on a few crackers, just to have something to eat and pass as lunch. She wiped the sweat from her brow, passing over the fresh bandage on her head. After taking an admittedly awful shower in the apartment yesterday, she had changed her bandages again and put on some new clothes. She already had some sweat stains on the Adventure Time shirt she put on, but she tried to ignore them.
"Well, this is a bust," she muttered before munching on another cracker.
The Society of the Spectacle
Around Noon, Day 9. Open
"Alright, back to the daily grind," Claire muttered.
Claire tossed the tin of crackers in her bag. It'd have to do for now as sustenance. She'd have to go back out and continue to search for the people Corey asked her to find.
Claire slung her bag over her shoulder, adjusting the strap against her denim jacket. She pulled down on the bottom of the shirt, feeling the bulletproof vest underneath. It was strange to think she had all that kevlar on protecting her, as if it was mythril. It was a slight reassurance, but not much. She was past the point where she felt any safety here.
Claire grasped the flashlight in her hands and slowly stepped out of the ally. It looked clear at the moment, but she knew she'd have to tread lightly as she walked. At this point, she knew the only people left in the game had to be broken messes, vicious killers, or a combination of both.
She tightened her grip on the flashlight as she moved further out of the ally.
Claire tossed the tin of crackers in her bag. It'd have to do for now as sustenance. She'd have to go back out and continue to search for the people Corey asked her to find.
Claire slung her bag over her shoulder, adjusting the strap against her denim jacket. She pulled down on the bottom of the shirt, feeling the bulletproof vest underneath. It was strange to think she had all that kevlar on protecting her, as if it was mythril. It was a slight reassurance, but not much. She was past the point where she felt any safety here.
Claire grasped the flashlight in her hands and slowly stepped out of the ally. It looked clear at the moment, but she knew she'd have to tread lightly as she walked. At this point, she knew the only people left in the game had to be broken messes, vicious killers, or a combination of both.
She tightened her grip on the flashlight as she moved further out of the ally.
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Rattlesnake
- Posts: 255
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
((Katarina Konipaski continued from Broken Hearts of Gold))
Everything folded back onto itself in the end. The same old streets where she'd stalked around with her scythe, the alleys where people lay rotting, the drab ground down to which she'd nearly tumbled. Buildings she'd decorated with impacts from her weapons.
She swiped back her bangs back. The island was shrinking at an alarming rate. She'd said goodbye to the sea already, and when she thought of it she gritted her teeth and scraped her thumb across the edge of her dagger and her arms shook just a little. The tattered remains of her senior class packed the tiny cage to the gills.
'There are too many people,' she thought in a voice that wasn't her own. 'We need a new plague.'
A little smile. She looked behind herself, to her left and right. That was funny once, back when it was absurd. It was funny again, now that it lit the path before her. The tightness in her chest constricted the trouble sigh.
Because—her finger raked her brow again—how many were standing before her now? Not simply on the wayside, but obstinately, purposefully in her path. Deanna. Maybe. There was a residue of blood still on her prize dagger, and just a bit of something else. Joe. Wounded, maybe even crippled, but almost certainly alive. The girl with the shouting and the gun. She hadn't had time for her face, really.
Ami. Bella. Another relic of a situation gone bad. She'd learned then, and it had cost her. And she'd learned again, and maybe the debt had crushed her before she'd realized it. One person in six, maybe in five by next sunrise. Assuming none died, which wasn't a safe assumption at all.
Hansel. The honorary chart-topper. He couldn't make it this far with illusions about what it meant. And he wasn't unique, oh, no. They all wanted to rip her apart. Tear her and mutilate her until her hold on the world was shivered to splinters. But Hansel had the know-how, the drive. Judging by the announcements, more than ample means. One of them had to die, and he was so well entrenched in making sure it wouldn't be him...
She looked around again and pulsed her jaw and something moved. Starting, pulling her body back and her sword forward.
"Hey," she called. "Startled me there." She smiled inwardly, but kept her face a slightly cheerful impassive. "I don't—look. Seen Ami Flynn? Mirabella strong?"
Everything folded back onto itself in the end. The same old streets where she'd stalked around with her scythe, the alleys where people lay rotting, the drab ground down to which she'd nearly tumbled. Buildings she'd decorated with impacts from her weapons.
She swiped back her bangs back. The island was shrinking at an alarming rate. She'd said goodbye to the sea already, and when she thought of it she gritted her teeth and scraped her thumb across the edge of her dagger and her arms shook just a little. The tattered remains of her senior class packed the tiny cage to the gills.
'There are too many people,' she thought in a voice that wasn't her own. 'We need a new plague.'
A little smile. She looked behind herself, to her left and right. That was funny once, back when it was absurd. It was funny again, now that it lit the path before her. The tightness in her chest constricted the trouble sigh.
Because—her finger raked her brow again—how many were standing before her now? Not simply on the wayside, but obstinately, purposefully in her path. Deanna. Maybe. There was a residue of blood still on her prize dagger, and just a bit of something else. Joe. Wounded, maybe even crippled, but almost certainly alive. The girl with the shouting and the gun. She hadn't had time for her face, really.
Ami. Bella. Another relic of a situation gone bad. She'd learned then, and it had cost her. And she'd learned again, and maybe the debt had crushed her before she'd realized it. One person in six, maybe in five by next sunrise. Assuming none died, which wasn't a safe assumption at all.
Hansel. The honorary chart-topper. He couldn't make it this far with illusions about what it meant. And he wasn't unique, oh, no. They all wanted to rip her apart. Tear her and mutilate her until her hold on the world was shivered to splinters. But Hansel had the know-how, the drive. Judging by the announcements, more than ample means. One of them had to die, and he was so well entrenched in making sure it wouldn't be him...
She looked around again and pulsed her jaw and something moved. Starting, pulling her body back and her sword forward.
"Hey," she called. "Startled me there." She smiled inwardly, but kept her face a slightly cheerful impassive. "I don't—look. Seen Ami Flynn? Mirabella strong?"
Aw fuck.
Katarina Konipaski. One of the top killers left was standing before Claire. Katarina looked like she had been through quite a bit, then again, who hadn't after nine days here? More importantly, the girl was within sight of Claire, probably poised to attack at any moment. Claire felt her grip tighten on the shotgun flashlight. If it came to it, she knew what to do. Pull the pin, point the back at Katarina, then press the button. One less psycho to deal with.
Or, maybe she wasn't dealing with a psycho. Katarina didn't seem concerned about Claire's continued existence, and wanted to know about a few people. Ami Flynn and Mirabella Strong. Claire raised an eyebrow. Looks like she wasn't the only one on a quest to find people.
"No, I haven't seen them at all. Now, allow me to ask you a similar question: have you seen Gray Emerson, Sean Mulcahy, Michael Mitchellson, or Tim Abrams? Someone wants me to find them."
Katarina Konipaski. One of the top killers left was standing before Claire. Katarina looked like she had been through quite a bit, then again, who hadn't after nine days here? More importantly, the girl was within sight of Claire, probably poised to attack at any moment. Claire felt her grip tighten on the shotgun flashlight. If it came to it, she knew what to do. Pull the pin, point the back at Katarina, then press the button. One less psycho to deal with.
Or, maybe she wasn't dealing with a psycho. Katarina didn't seem concerned about Claire's continued existence, and wanted to know about a few people. Ami Flynn and Mirabella Strong. Claire raised an eyebrow. Looks like she wasn't the only one on a quest to find people.
"No, I haven't seen them at all. Now, allow me to ask you a similar question: have you seen Gray Emerson, Sean Mulcahy, Michael Mitchellson, or Tim Abrams? Someone wants me to find them."
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Rattlesnake
- Posts: 255
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
Claire didn't run screaming at the sight of her, which was a minor success in itself. Katarina tipped the sword back, let it rest on the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Sidestepped a bit, crushed the flower of a weed beneath her toes as she leaned up against a building. It was dirty and peeling, just like everything else. Even the streets were dingy and cracked. Tarmac, tough and supple, still helpless to weather the march of time.
She watched Claire's face and twitched her own brow as a crude mirror to her and rapped her fingers on the leatherwrapped grip of her prize as familiar emotion filtered through her gut. The girl wasn't stupid, clearly, and she could read the writing on the wall but she didn't make anything of it. Call that straight-up smart. Katarina could accept that sort of strategy making it so far.
"Would it be good if I had?" she said in a carefree sort of way.
Maybe she'd reach for whatever she'd gotten. Or what—Matt, right?—the person she killed, what they'd had. You didn't get your name announced without something to back it up, especially if you took down someone built roughly like a refrigerator. Call her a monster or whatever, the old song and dance. Show her what she meant by it all. And then she could puzzle it through, smile or sprint or slash away.
And she hoped it could be the former. Really did. Heck, maybe she'd force it, except that didn't seem quite like the best way to go about things. At least she'd gotten away without taking much in return.
"No, not really in the business of seeing people. Wasn't, at least. Hard to say anything much any more. Are you looking, or—" she raised the dagger in her offhand to waist-high. Still running a little bit as everything she hadn't bothered to wipe crusted and congealed.
She watched Claire's face and twitched her own brow as a crude mirror to her and rapped her fingers on the leatherwrapped grip of her prize as familiar emotion filtered through her gut. The girl wasn't stupid, clearly, and she could read the writing on the wall but she didn't make anything of it. Call that straight-up smart. Katarina could accept that sort of strategy making it so far.
"Would it be good if I had?" she said in a carefree sort of way.
Maybe she'd reach for whatever she'd gotten. Or what—Matt, right?—the person she killed, what they'd had. You didn't get your name announced without something to back it up, especially if you took down someone built roughly like a refrigerator. Call her a monster or whatever, the old song and dance. Show her what she meant by it all. And then she could puzzle it through, smile or sprint or slash away.
And she hoped it could be the former. Really did. Heck, maybe she'd force it, except that didn't seem quite like the best way to go about things. At least she'd gotten away without taking much in return.
"No, not really in the business of seeing people. Wasn't, at least. Hard to say anything much any more. Are you looking, or—" she raised the dagger in her offhand to waist-high. Still running a little bit as everything she hadn't bothered to wipe crusted and congealed.
Claire found herself a bit unnerved by how Katarina responded. It was a sort of carefree response that read that her emotions might be all over the place. At the same time, Katarina's response suggested that Claire was hunting people. Katarina was hunting Ami Flynn and Mirabella Strong, it seemed, and assumed Claire was also on a quest for vengeance.
Claire shook her head as Katarina raised her dagger.
"Naw, this isn't a blood quest. A friend had some dying words he asked me to deliver to them. You know, last request and all that."
Claire pushed her glasses up a bit on the bridge of her nose.
"So, I'm guessing you have different reasons for looking for Ami and Mirabella."
Claire shook her head as Katarina raised her dagger.
"Naw, this isn't a blood quest. A friend had some dying words he asked me to deliver to them. You know, last request and all that."
Claire pushed her glasses up a bit on the bridge of her nose.
"So, I'm guessing you have different reasons for looking for Ami and Mirabella."
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Rattlesnake
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- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
Claire seemed pretty nonplussed, all things considered. She hadn't fled, of course, and that was a little victory, but a freaking bloody sawtoothed dagger and six more stains on the hand that held it were things Katarina judged to inspire more than a bit of friendly banter.
She stepped away from the building, adjusted the sword again. Looked behind herself, and then behind to the other side. Twitched her brow and looked behind herself again because the first one hadn't taken. Nonchalantly shrugged and answered Claire in reverse.
"I mean, not gonna overextend for it, yeah? Kinda hard to find someone even if you want." How true that was, she thought, up until it wasn't. Oh, it had been perfect in the beginning. Let the huddled masses grind themselves to pieces. Let those oh-so-enlightened visionaries wade through the brambles with their eyes set ahead until they tore themselves to pieces in pursuit of a ghost. One little girl in an island miles wide. A girl who didn't want to be found. And then, suddenly, the masses weren't so indistinct. The crowd knotted into discrete bundles while the rest rotted away. All with names, faces, histories, vendettas. Weapons. And they united again, with one common purpose, one name seared into their shattered hearts, and nothing left to lose...
She sighed and gritted her teeth and gave her throat an unnecessary clear. There was an ace, though. Something to put her back on top of the wave of death and gore so she could ride until the end. You didn't need to outrun the rampaging bear. Just shout a bit, make yourself bit, toss a little honey on the guy trying to do the same.
"But, yeah." Turned up the corners of her cheeks, slipped the dagger into the bag hanging by her hip. "They'll get theirs in the end, but I'd like to make sure, you know?" she smiled more broadly and pain lanced through her face. She made a decent show of clasping her free hand to her nose, wincing, letting a sigh out that was half-growl.
"That's what they did," she said, gesturing more generally from the contusions on her cheek to the black-and-purple orbit of her eye. "I've got some things I'd like to say about it, but you gotta stay flexible, eh?"
She looked over her shoulder again. "What's that dying request, anyways?"
She stepped away from the building, adjusted the sword again. Looked behind herself, and then behind to the other side. Twitched her brow and looked behind herself again because the first one hadn't taken. Nonchalantly shrugged and answered Claire in reverse.
"I mean, not gonna overextend for it, yeah? Kinda hard to find someone even if you want." How true that was, she thought, up until it wasn't. Oh, it had been perfect in the beginning. Let the huddled masses grind themselves to pieces. Let those oh-so-enlightened visionaries wade through the brambles with their eyes set ahead until they tore themselves to pieces in pursuit of a ghost. One little girl in an island miles wide. A girl who didn't want to be found. And then, suddenly, the masses weren't so indistinct. The crowd knotted into discrete bundles while the rest rotted away. All with names, faces, histories, vendettas. Weapons. And they united again, with one common purpose, one name seared into their shattered hearts, and nothing left to lose...
She sighed and gritted her teeth and gave her throat an unnecessary clear. There was an ace, though. Something to put her back on top of the wave of death and gore so she could ride until the end. You didn't need to outrun the rampaging bear. Just shout a bit, make yourself bit, toss a little honey on the guy trying to do the same.
"But, yeah." Turned up the corners of her cheeks, slipped the dagger into the bag hanging by her hip. "They'll get theirs in the end, but I'd like to make sure, you know?" she smiled more broadly and pain lanced through her face. She made a decent show of clasping her free hand to her nose, wincing, letting a sigh out that was half-growl.
"That's what they did," she said, gesturing more generally from the contusions on her cheek to the black-and-purple orbit of her eye. "I've got some things I'd like to say about it, but you gotta stay flexible, eh?"
She looked over her shoulder again. "What's that dying request, anyways?"
Claire started to feel really creeped out by Katarina. Katarina really was hunting people down. She could remember Ami Flynn killed someone days ago, but she didn't think Mirabella Strong had killed anyone. Katarina was probably past player hunting and into full on vendetta sprees, regardless of the severity of action. Katarina was starting to look frightening, and her hand on that sword wasn't making things any better. If Claire had to make a comparison, Katarina seemed like a ronin from a classic Japanese movie, someone probably played by Toshiro Mifune. Someone who didn't care anymore but to get revenge on those who destroyed his clan and his life, and willing to do anything to do so.
Claire didn't let any of this show of course. She wanted to be able to walk away from Katarina in one piece, or at least with nothing too serious lost. This was the time she had to speak carefully. Katarina was inquisitive about Corey's final request. She wasn't robbing Claire, she wasn't taking her hostage, she wasn't tormenting Claire before killing her. Claire could hold face and talk.
"It wasn't anything to serious," Claire said, keeping her voice and tone steady. "Corey died regretting certain actions he made on this island. There were people he abandoned, friends he parted with on rough terms. In his final moments, all he wanted was to feel some form of forgiveness and comfort before passing. So, he gave me some words to pass along. It's pretty simple, and if it's alright with you, I'd like to at least keep those words private to those involved."
Claire's eyes slightly squinted as she looked at Katarina. Katarina was one of the biggest killers on this island, probably tied with Hansel at this point. If Claire had to make assumptions, she would guess Katarina was a little more composed and logical at this point. She wanted to understand the girl before her. If this was where her life would end, she wanted to make sense of how someone could go into spree killing so easily. This would be her version of Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer as she saw it. So, she spoke again to the girl before her.
"Katarina, if you were to die here, would there be anything you would regret? Any words you wished you said to people before dying? Any actions you wish you didn't make?"
Time to see if I avoided a landmine or not.
Claire didn't let any of this show of course. She wanted to be able to walk away from Katarina in one piece, or at least with nothing too serious lost. This was the time she had to speak carefully. Katarina was inquisitive about Corey's final request. She wasn't robbing Claire, she wasn't taking her hostage, she wasn't tormenting Claire before killing her. Claire could hold face and talk.
"It wasn't anything to serious," Claire said, keeping her voice and tone steady. "Corey died regretting certain actions he made on this island. There were people he abandoned, friends he parted with on rough terms. In his final moments, all he wanted was to feel some form of forgiveness and comfort before passing. So, he gave me some words to pass along. It's pretty simple, and if it's alright with you, I'd like to at least keep those words private to those involved."
Claire's eyes slightly squinted as she looked at Katarina. Katarina was one of the biggest killers on this island, probably tied with Hansel at this point. If Claire had to make assumptions, she would guess Katarina was a little more composed and logical at this point. She wanted to understand the girl before her. If this was where her life would end, she wanted to make sense of how someone could go into spree killing so easily. This would be her version of Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer as she saw it. So, she spoke again to the girl before her.
"Katarina, if you were to die here, would there be anything you would regret? Any words you wished you said to people before dying? Any actions you wish you didn't make?"
Time to see if I avoided a landmine or not.
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Rattlesnake
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- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
Katarina felt a barbed diatribe curl around her tongue, ready to lash out and slash into Claire's little mound of secrets, but she swallowed it back down. Neither did she huff or scoff or scuff her heel, settling instead on flicking back the bangs that didn't hang in front of her face. The dismissal in Claire's explanation was clear. A sensitive matter. For people, not monsters. Katarina wasn't a monster, and the urge to dash forward and slice the girl in two would prove it. But whatever. You had to be the bigger man, even if you were a rail of a girl. Then again, it wasn't a monumental task to pose as the lesser of the evils. She could state flat-out that she'd kill them last, and maybe they'd all go for Hansel instead. There was a thought.
But she listened to what else she had to say. The usual rundown. Have you taken a moment to just think? Definitely no downtime when you spend nine days hiding in filthy holes. Have you realized you're a Bad Person? Yeah, I think I freaking noticed. Hand me that wet wipe, you wouldn't believe how blood gets everywhere. And again, whatever. She did another visual sweep behind herself, to either side. But people clung to that sort of thing. I can't stab that guy, they picked up my books once. Can't shoot Kat, she stood and talked and what she said rang true. Until you can, and she intended to be well away by then.
"Regrets?" she said. Honesty chased a comfortable lie around a tree and reminded her that truth, after all, was beauty. "Wish I'd checked over my shoulder a couple more times and stabbed the idiot first."
"Not being flippant," she added in her usual clipped tone. "People who want to be all cool and comfortable and whatever, fine. I'm not. I don't wanna spend my last day slapping bandaids on people. You don't get out if you're halfway, if you don't really... really, freaking want to leave."
But she listened to what else she had to say. The usual rundown. Have you taken a moment to just think? Definitely no downtime when you spend nine days hiding in filthy holes. Have you realized you're a Bad Person? Yeah, I think I freaking noticed. Hand me that wet wipe, you wouldn't believe how blood gets everywhere. And again, whatever. She did another visual sweep behind herself, to either side. But people clung to that sort of thing. I can't stab that guy, they picked up my books once. Can't shoot Kat, she stood and talked and what she said rang true. Until you can, and she intended to be well away by then.
"Regrets?" she said. Honesty chased a comfortable lie around a tree and reminded her that truth, after all, was beauty. "Wish I'd checked over my shoulder a couple more times and stabbed the idiot first."
"Not being flippant," she added in her usual clipped tone. "People who want to be all cool and comfortable and whatever, fine. I'm not. I don't wanna spend my last day slapping bandaids on people. You don't get out if you're halfway, if you don't really... really, freaking want to leave."
Claire wondered if she should have felt surprised by Katarina's response. Katarina had decided to kill her classmates a while ago, so it makes sense that her only regrets would involve killing more effectively and with less damage to herself. Claire simply nodded as Katarina spoke.
"I think I get what you mean," Claire said. "I think you'd want to seriously get out of here if you're still alive at this point. I doubt anyone is completely innocent at this point. I'm not, and I'm not going to act like I'm that much morally superior compared to people like Hansel."
Claire brushed some hair behind her ear and adjusted her glasses.
"I only asked about regrets because of how Corey died. He didn't take care of his injuries, and he ran from his allies. I've spent over a week around dead people here, and I'm trying to understand how they must have felt in their final moments. To know that death is close and absolute."
Claire took a few steps closer to Katarina, keeping a tight grip on the flashlight.
"I mean, I've kind of accepted I'm probably not surviving this place. I'm never going to UCLA, never becoming a director, never really making my mark on film history. All I've got are a few low budget films I've uploaded to YouTube and several unfinished scripts sitting on my laptop back home. I think I just want to know that I'm not the only one thinking about what could have been."
"I think I get what you mean," Claire said. "I think you'd want to seriously get out of here if you're still alive at this point. I doubt anyone is completely innocent at this point. I'm not, and I'm not going to act like I'm that much morally superior compared to people like Hansel."
Claire brushed some hair behind her ear and adjusted her glasses.
"I only asked about regrets because of how Corey died. He didn't take care of his injuries, and he ran from his allies. I've spent over a week around dead people here, and I'm trying to understand how they must have felt in their final moments. To know that death is close and absolute."
Claire took a few steps closer to Katarina, keeping a tight grip on the flashlight.
"I mean, I've kind of accepted I'm probably not surviving this place. I'm never going to UCLA, never becoming a director, never really making my mark on film history. All I've got are a few low budget films I've uploaded to YouTube and several unfinished scripts sitting on my laptop back home. I think I just want to know that I'm not the only one thinking about what could have been."
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Rattlesnake
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- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
Maybe she was wrong about it all. About the sorry little scene playing out between them, at least. But maybe Claire really had it all figured out. It just didn't quite jive that someone could mean it all just as she said it. Really, truly, earnestly. That someone could fell so—well—ambivalent? But not even that. Resigned? It didn't quite fit the bill either. But that Claire could take her word and nod and fix her hair and talk about throwing her life away in the same freaking breath. She'd been through a lot. A dazed and tattered victim. And Katarina's sense, that mantle she took up unconsciously, of being so superior, of running beyond the rhetorical corner when everyone else, it seemed, was just catching up...
"There's a lot of screaming involved," she said, and glanced at the ground and raked her brow and scuffed her heel.
It was just the old runaround. The most important day of their life. The final one. And for her, Tuesday.
"I mean," she cut in suddenly, "From all I've seen. There's no comfort there, at any rate."
But Tuesday meant a hell of a lot in the end, because that was the day you found someone who broke the old rule. You stood for something, lest you fall for anything. Another day, another lesson, and how many things vital to her survival tomorrow might be budgeted for the day after? And how many thousands more experiences brushing her life like fingers over wet clay would be closed out if the door was slammed shut before the prime of her life?
"I can kill you last," she said, and it was very nearly sincere. Who else would it be, then? And she chewed a flake of chapped skin on her lip. "If you'd like. You know I won't screw it up." She smiled in earnest, because that was nothing more or less than the entirety of her offer. Another glance behind her. "Don't really have to accept, it's just, I don't need much back. Just remember it? When things get down to the wire, and you have to make your stand or whatever, and you're wondering which is the greater of the evils to stare down?"
"There's a lot of screaming involved," she said, and glanced at the ground and raked her brow and scuffed her heel.
It was just the old runaround. The most important day of their life. The final one. And for her, Tuesday.
"I mean," she cut in suddenly, "From all I've seen. There's no comfort there, at any rate."
But Tuesday meant a hell of a lot in the end, because that was the day you found someone who broke the old rule. You stood for something, lest you fall for anything. Another day, another lesson, and how many things vital to her survival tomorrow might be budgeted for the day after? And how many thousands more experiences brushing her life like fingers over wet clay would be closed out if the door was slammed shut before the prime of her life?
"I can kill you last," she said, and it was very nearly sincere. Who else would it be, then? And she chewed a flake of chapped skin on her lip. "If you'd like. You know I won't screw it up." She smiled in earnest, because that was nothing more or less than the entirety of her offer. Another glance behind her. "Don't really have to accept, it's just, I don't need much back. Just remember it? When things get down to the wire, and you have to make your stand or whatever, and you're wondering which is the greater of the evils to stare down?"
"Kill me last?"
Claire raised an eyebrow as her mouth slowly opened. Part of her was amused by the Commando reference she found in Katarina's speech, but the other part was surprised the girl gave her the offer. The last spree killer was similar, not offering to kill her for some ill defined reason. No one just straight up said they'd give her that kind of opportunity. That seemed to be a luxury lost at this stage.
"Well, I'm intrigued," Claire began, putting her free hand on her hip. "You offered that pretty quickly considering how long we've been chatting. I always felt that kind of thing was reserved for blood brothers or serial nemeses."
Claire looked over Katarina quickly. The girl had been through a lot, but she did have a scary looking weapon and a reputation. That could ensure Claire lasted a little while longer. Still, being the only one left meant that Sean, Gray, and everyone else would have to go. She decided to press Katarina further before figuring out if she was reliable.
"I want to say yes, but I feel I need more info. Someone once spared my life when they had the chance to end it, and I never found out why he chose to let me live. What about me makes you want to ensure I'm the last person to go?"
Claire raised an eyebrow as her mouth slowly opened. Part of her was amused by the Commando reference she found in Katarina's speech, but the other part was surprised the girl gave her the offer. The last spree killer was similar, not offering to kill her for some ill defined reason. No one just straight up said they'd give her that kind of opportunity. That seemed to be a luxury lost at this stage.
"Well, I'm intrigued," Claire began, putting her free hand on her hip. "You offered that pretty quickly considering how long we've been chatting. I always felt that kind of thing was reserved for blood brothers or serial nemeses."
Claire looked over Katarina quickly. The girl had been through a lot, but she did have a scary looking weapon and a reputation. That could ensure Claire lasted a little while longer. Still, being the only one left meant that Sean, Gray, and everyone else would have to go. She decided to press Katarina further before figuring out if she was reliable.
"I want to say yes, but I feel I need more info. Someone once spared my life when they had the chance to end it, and I never found out why he chose to let me live. What about me makes you want to ensure I'm the last person to go?"
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Rattlesnake
- Posts: 255
- Joined: Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:51 am
She shrugged.
"Maybe second-last. Maybe I don't really know if you'll make it that far, so I won't have to pay up." She cleared her throat and tensed her jaw.
"I just don't—it's not a huge deal. Dunno what that guy was was thinking, honestly, but he's dead by now, yeah? But I'm not. And there's someone else who isn't."
"I killed a girl today," she said flatly. "I think. And I didn't make a lot of friends with it. You don't bleed that much and walk away, I know that. And it's like, you know, she's already dead, but that doesn't stop anyone."
Her smile wavered.
"Of course it doesn't. I'm not retarded. But they've got an idea who they want to go down with when they're torn and ragged and bleeding and they realize their legacy's at stake. You don't know what they'll do." She snorted and spat a glob of black bloody phlegm. Gestured vaguely, wiped a tear from the lurid rim of her eye.
"They called themselves the good guys, you know? I don't know. I'm pretty sure. And what do you think they'll do at the end, when they see what it comes down to? When their whole life's work comes down to screwing—to fucking around with people."
"Hansel's got a racket going." she said. "That's the straight talk. And a lot of people are going to say, no, Kat's the monster. She's the one under the bed. The bloody knife that cuts right through their reason. And if it comes down to it, you don't have to jump in front of me. But if you've got your last bullet, and you're sitting there, and you've got us in your sights, you stepped aside and I stepped aside and we make little curtsies at each other and I carved away at the filth and maybe that let you deliver some kid's dying breath so it all meant something for you."
"Just think of that, and who you're going to aim at."
She shrugged again.
"That's what I've got."
"Maybe second-last. Maybe I don't really know if you'll make it that far, so I won't have to pay up." She cleared her throat and tensed her jaw.
"I just don't—it's not a huge deal. Dunno what that guy was was thinking, honestly, but he's dead by now, yeah? But I'm not. And there's someone else who isn't."
"I killed a girl today," she said flatly. "I think. And I didn't make a lot of friends with it. You don't bleed that much and walk away, I know that. And it's like, you know, she's already dead, but that doesn't stop anyone."
Her smile wavered.
"Of course it doesn't. I'm not retarded. But they've got an idea who they want to go down with when they're torn and ragged and bleeding and they realize their legacy's at stake. You don't know what they'll do." She snorted and spat a glob of black bloody phlegm. Gestured vaguely, wiped a tear from the lurid rim of her eye.
"They called themselves the good guys, you know? I don't know. I'm pretty sure. And what do you think they'll do at the end, when they see what it comes down to? When their whole life's work comes down to screwing—to fucking around with people."
"Hansel's got a racket going." she said. "That's the straight talk. And a lot of people are going to say, no, Kat's the monster. She's the one under the bed. The bloody knife that cuts right through their reason. And if it comes down to it, you don't have to jump in front of me. But if you've got your last bullet, and you're sitting there, and you've got us in your sights, you stepped aside and I stepped aside and we make little curtsies at each other and I carved away at the filth and maybe that let you deliver some kid's dying breath so it all meant something for you."
"Just think of that, and who you're going to aim at."
She shrugged again.
"That's what I've got."
As Katarina spoke, Claire finally began to understand this girl more and more. She wanted to tell the girl that Hansel was that boy, but the girl had a lot to say, so she let her talk. Claire nodded slowly as Katarina spoke, only breaking when the girl spat on the ground. That elicited a slight grimace before she turned back and focused on the girl.
In that moment, Claire felt she saw more of a human side of Katarina Konipaski than most people on the island were going to see. Katarina wasn't like Hansel. When Claire saw Hansel, she saw a boy who had chosen to give in, and show absolutely no mercy towards his targets. Hansel didn't think of the impact shooting Kyle would cause. Katarina could think about a girl she killed earlier and the effect it would cause.
It was a moment that made Claire feel like a psychiatrist who was given the chance to write a book off a serial killer. This was a privilege, and she needed to understand what Katarina was saying perfectly. So she stood quietly, and waited for Katarina to finish. When Katarina stopped, Claire's eyes darted to her feet, then to the phlegm on the ground. She sighed.
"Welp..." she began.
Claire cleared her throat.
"I really hope everyone is aware of that as much as you are. You know, I once reviewed every episode of the show Firefly. There's an episode where one character quotes some Chinese guy I'm not sure was real or not. Basically, the quote was that you can know someone, but until you threaten their life, you won't know the true person."
"It's not pleasant, but everyone is selfish at the end of the day. There comes a point where you have to accept that and move on."
Claire tightened her grip on the flashlight.
"So. What do we do now?"
In that moment, Claire felt she saw more of a human side of Katarina Konipaski than most people on the island were going to see. Katarina wasn't like Hansel. When Claire saw Hansel, she saw a boy who had chosen to give in, and show absolutely no mercy towards his targets. Hansel didn't think of the impact shooting Kyle would cause. Katarina could think about a girl she killed earlier and the effect it would cause.
It was a moment that made Claire feel like a psychiatrist who was given the chance to write a book off a serial killer. This was a privilege, and she needed to understand what Katarina was saying perfectly. So she stood quietly, and waited for Katarina to finish. When Katarina stopped, Claire's eyes darted to her feet, then to the phlegm on the ground. She sighed.
"Welp..." she began.
Claire cleared her throat.
"I really hope everyone is aware of that as much as you are. You know, I once reviewed every episode of the show Firefly. There's an episode where one character quotes some Chinese guy I'm not sure was real or not. Basically, the quote was that you can know someone, but until you threaten their life, you won't know the true person."
"It's not pleasant, but everyone is selfish at the end of the day. There comes a point where you have to accept that and move on."
Claire tightened her grip on the flashlight.
"So. What do we do now?"
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NotAFlyingToy
- Posts: 323
- Joined: Sat Aug 25, 2018 4:49 am
- Location: Burlington, Canada
- Contact:
((Hansel Williams, I Was Once Alive))
There were moments in life where time stood still, a quarter being spun around a tabletop, ridged edge making a whoosh, whoosh, whoosh sound upon wood. Moments that felt like minutes, hours, days - stretched out and played in the imagination, observed, worked over, dissected. Moments like your first kiss, first injury, first home run. Unbelievable moments, magical moments.
Horrifying moments.
One of those moments came for Hansel when he turned, and his eyes met Katarina Konipaski's.
Of all of the names and faces on the island - of all of the threats out there - one name had been constant. One name had been a niggle at the back of his mind, a small zit that ached just enough to remind you it still existed. One syllabic grouping that had his back tighten for every single day it wasn't announced as deceased.
But the name and face had a body, now. The single greatest threat to his chances of survival, here. In the flesh.
Just as quickly, the moment passed, and the shotgun was flung aside, the Winchester came to bear, and Hansel dropped to a crouch, pulling the trigger and hammering the lever in quick, jerky movements, filling the alleyway with thunder and a hail of lead.
There were moments in life where time stood still, a quarter being spun around a tabletop, ridged edge making a whoosh, whoosh, whoosh sound upon wood. Moments that felt like minutes, hours, days - stretched out and played in the imagination, observed, worked over, dissected. Moments like your first kiss, first injury, first home run. Unbelievable moments, magical moments.
Horrifying moments.
One of those moments came for Hansel when he turned, and his eyes met Katarina Konipaski's.
Of all of the names and faces on the island - of all of the threats out there - one name had been constant. One name had been a niggle at the back of his mind, a small zit that ached just enough to remind you it still existed. One syllabic grouping that had his back tighten for every single day it wasn't announced as deceased.
But the name and face had a body, now. The single greatest threat to his chances of survival, here. In the flesh.
Just as quickly, the moment passed, and the shotgun was flung aside, the Winchester came to bear, and Hansel dropped to a crouch, pulling the trigger and hammering the lever in quick, jerky movements, filling the alleyway with thunder and a hail of lead.