There was plenty of irritation to go around, turns out. It wouldn't be fair if only Nick's friend got the brunt of it, after all.
First of all, Yuka had actually been looking forward to the pills, to something different in general, but Teresa had to just stow it away like a fucking tease. Yuka hadn't had the chance to try drugs before the island, and maybe that had been a mistake, in hindsight. But, on the other hand, maybe it wasn't the best idea to get high in front of people you may or may not rob, so maybe Teresa had a point.
Then there was fucking Nick with his fucking British sarcasm and shit. She felt she was supposed to more annoyed, too, at being called a hen and stuff, but she didn't really know what he meant by that, so she could just leave it. Everything else did the job, too. She didn't like being talked to that way, really. Left her on edge.
So, yeah, Teresa, maybe the rest of you guys didn't have a problem, but she did.
The pills weren't coming any time soon, and she wanted something different, so. She tried flexing what was left of the fingers on her left hand, this time, and it burned, a lot. She cursed under her breath, bit her lip, gripped her left wrist with her right hand. But, it was different. It wasn't that lingering sadness, or doubt, or whatever, and it was different, so it was good. Teresa had been supposed to prevent her from resorting to such extremes, but, well, she wasn't delivering on a lot, lately, and she'd have to think about that at some other time. There was something else seeping into her brain, a sort of fire, nerves tingling in the back of her neck, and-
Oh. There was the anger she'd been expecting. Like, just a minute later than expected, the train it arrived on must've been delayed or something.
Yuka had briefly considered just walking away from here, finding someone else to rob, or something. This was getting boring, really, and in boredom seeped all those other emotions she didn't really like dwelling on and stuff. But then, she realized that she really didn't like that idea. It felt like seeing Katrina, at the beach. She didn't like the idea of, like, actually meeting someone that had taken someone very important away from her and then, just, letting them walk away. It didn't feel right.
It not feeling right felt right. It not feeling right didn't feel right.
The rage ebbed into her, replacing the doubt and anxiety and sadness, but, she'd felt like this before Katrina, and look at how she came out of that encounter.
But, he was a dick too, so maybe it'd be worth it.
Yuka gave a quick sideways glance towards Teresa, hoped that maybe some telekinesis shit would send the message, but, well, there was only so much she could do.
"No problems here. Except for the gun Mikey took from us. That's, like, a pretty big problem."
Beat.
"You sure you guys don't want any pills? Probably the last chance you'll have, to be honest."
We're All Excited, We Don't Know Why, Maybe It's 'Cause, We're Gonna Die
Day 7, Post-Announcement, open though PMs for entry planning are dope!
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Emprexx Plush
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And whoop there it is that was a threat! Unambiguously a threat! Or Yuka was an idiot, because you could not stab someone to death and then be all, 'haha, better do this thing, it's probably the last chance you'll ever have' and not expect people to think you were going to stab them! Wow, why was every instinct he had totally wrong? All the people he had decided to jump straight to violent assumptions with and he gave these two the benefit of the doubt?
Great. Good. Perfect. Fine.
They were still all the way over there with their pills and knives and there lack of gun that Marco was pretty sure was Michael's in the first place since he'd had one the last time he saw him unless he also stole another one from these girls in which case also fine because Marco would rather he had it than they did which also probably wasn't for the best because Michael kept shooting people all the time but he wasn't here and he probably wouldn't shoot them and that was really selfish and messed up but but Marco's hand was in his bag and in the glove and he needed to breathe.
So he did.
Nice and slow.
He did not pull his hand out. There'd be time to tighten up and all that if they made a move. It steadied him just to feel it against his skin. Nick would understand. Nobody needed to get hurt. He didn't want to start anything. If trouble came though they'd finish it. Together.
"We're good. Nick's had better ideas for the rest of our time." That sounded, uh, but they didn't know, it was fine. Marco was trying real hard not to stare at Yuka's messed up hand she kept playing with which really meant not looking at her at all, which meant spending a lot of time staring Teresa and thinking she looked kinda familiar. Not just drove you home familiar but like they'd bumped into each other before somewhere recent, like, like, oh. Oh.
She'd been there closing in on him right before, before Kayla.
She hadn't been alone.
Marco heard her name not long after, right next to Reuben's.
"Did she tell you?"
His words were meant for Yuka but he kept staring at Teresa.
"You know. What she did to the last person who hung around her too long? Since we're counting up chances and everything, I figured you might want to know."
Great. Good. Perfect. Fine.
They were still all the way over there with their pills and knives and there lack of gun that Marco was pretty sure was Michael's in the first place since he'd had one the last time he saw him unless he also stole another one from these girls in which case also fine because Marco would rather he had it than they did which also probably wasn't for the best because Michael kept shooting people all the time but he wasn't here and he probably wouldn't shoot them and that was really selfish and messed up but but Marco's hand was in his bag and in the glove and he needed to breathe.
So he did.
Nice and slow.
He did not pull his hand out. There'd be time to tighten up and all that if they made a move. It steadied him just to feel it against his skin. Nick would understand. Nobody needed to get hurt. He didn't want to start anything. If trouble came though they'd finish it. Together.
"We're good. Nick's had better ideas for the rest of our time." That sounded, uh, but they didn't know, it was fine. Marco was trying real hard not to stare at Yuka's messed up hand she kept playing with which really meant not looking at her at all, which meant spending a lot of time staring Teresa and thinking she looked kinda familiar. Not just drove you home familiar but like they'd bumped into each other before somewhere recent, like, like, oh. Oh.
She'd been there closing in on him right before, before Kayla.
She hadn't been alone.
Marco heard her name not long after, right next to Reuben's.
"Did she tell you?"
His words were meant for Yuka but he kept staring at Teresa.
"You know. What she did to the last person who hung around her too long? Since we're counting up chances and everything, I figured you might want to know."
Was.... was Nick calling her chicken? Or was this one of those weird British colloquailisms that were compliments that were also vaguely insults so you could never tell without asking directly like some sort or bitch? Ugh whatever, Nick talked funny anyway.
Yuka oogled at her and muttered something under her breath, but like on the real real? Whatever brainwaving telekinetic magic mumbo jumbo she was trying to do kinda got lost in translation, partially because she just didn't care and partially because of the ouch oof oof brain hurting juice.
The HOODED GIRL perked up a bit at Marco's threat, or like a La Croix hint of a flavor of a threat. Her shark teeth glinted and her eyes shone glossless from the shadow of the cult robe.
"Nah, she already knows about Reuben. But like... you're one to talk T.B.Q.H. since you're pal'ing around with the dude that straight up killed Beryl like immediately, so..."
Yuka oogled at her and muttered something under her breath, but like on the real real? Whatever brainwaving telekinetic magic mumbo jumbo she was trying to do kinda got lost in translation, partially because she just didn't care and partially because of the ouch oof oof brain hurting juice.
The HOODED GIRL perked up a bit at Marco's threat, or like a La Croix hint of a flavor of a threat. Her shark teeth glinted and her eyes shone glossless from the shadow of the cult robe.
"Nah, she already knows about Reuben. But like... you're one to talk T.B.Q.H. since you're pal'ing around with the dude that straight up killed Beryl like immediately, so..."
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General Goose
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Nick shuffled awkwardly. He looked at Marco for the most part, watching his lips, observing his mannerisms, wanting to follow the level of energy that Marco was bringing to this encounter, trusting in Marco's newfound confidence as a far more reliable lodestar for future action than anything that Nick could have came up with on his own. Marco seemed ever so slightly combative. No, that was the wrong word. Marco was...prepared to get combative, Nick supposed. Primed and ready to make his tone harsher and more vitriolic, to turn this from a relatively calm and sedate encounter into something more explosive.
The thing is, he used to be pretty good at this kind of thing. Trading passive-aggressive barbs. Chatting casually about drugs. A weird back and forth that spoke to tangled narratives and constantly moving parts in a serpentine high school ecosystem. That had been where Nick had once survived. Where he'd thrived. His irreverent wit, the way he confidently threw himself into situations such as this, the way he stuck to his guns and clinged to his initial assumptions as a kind of source of anchoring stability.
Marco and Teresa and Yuka - and Nick was pretty sure that it was Yuka but he couldn't remember exactly which of the triplets were still about - were all exchanging pleasantries and veiled threats in equal measure, and Nick was struggling to keep up. There was a lot that he didn't understand these days. A lot of things that he couldn't keep up with, stuff that he'd forgotten, little connections and once important bits of gossip that he had once viewed as essential to his survival. Info that probably still was essential to his survival - except now in a far more literal sense - but that he had no chance of recalling.
They mentioned Beryl. He looked up. Realised he'd forgotten who had said it. Had processed the words, even the tone and cadence, just not the voice. Nick sighed. "It's...it wasn't like that," he muttered weakly, before remembering that, no, defending his actions would be futile.
He looked down again, this time at the ground.
The thing is, he used to be pretty good at this kind of thing. Trading passive-aggressive barbs. Chatting casually about drugs. A weird back and forth that spoke to tangled narratives and constantly moving parts in a serpentine high school ecosystem. That had been where Nick had once survived. Where he'd thrived. His irreverent wit, the way he confidently threw himself into situations such as this, the way he stuck to his guns and clinged to his initial assumptions as a kind of source of anchoring stability.
Marco and Teresa and Yuka - and Nick was pretty sure that it was Yuka but he couldn't remember exactly which of the triplets were still about - were all exchanging pleasantries and veiled threats in equal measure, and Nick was struggling to keep up. There was a lot that he didn't understand these days. A lot of things that he couldn't keep up with, stuff that he'd forgotten, little connections and once important bits of gossip that he had once viewed as essential to his survival. Info that probably still was essential to his survival - except now in a far more literal sense - but that he had no chance of recalling.
They mentioned Beryl. He looked up. Realised he'd forgotten who had said it. Had processed the words, even the tone and cadence, just not the voice. Nick sighed. "It's...it wasn't like that," he muttered weakly, before remembering that, no, defending his actions would be futile.
He looked down again, this time at the ground.
Nick's friend thought they were being all slick with the hand in the bag and stuff, but, like, they were right there, with their beady eyes and all and their hand just conveniently slipping out of view, like. Yuka had never been at the top of her class, but she could put two and two together. She went briefly 
at whatever Nick and his friend's time meant, but that didn't matter right now. What mattered was that they were being all slick and suspicious and shady and shit, what mattered was that Yuka was scared and suspecting and seething and shit, and it was different, it was good, but it was dangerous, and then Nick's friend looked at Teresa.
And points were made! Like, at least three out of four of the people here were killers, that was true. Nick also did kill Beryl, Yuka's bestie, facts only here. But.
Yuka didn't know, actually. About Reuben. Mascot guy. She vaguely remembered that Teresa had been on the announcements before, and she was still alive, so. But, she hadn't been paying much attention to names. There had been other names she had been looking out for, before. Nothing else had mattered. And, when they had met up back at the house with Michael, nothing else mattered. Teresa was there, and that was that. But, according to Nick's friend, Teresa had had another ally, and that ally was no longer around.
She'd have to ask about that later, perhaps. Another time.
Teresa didn't acknowledge Yuka's attempt at sending a message, just looked back at Nick's friend with a sort of vitriol. Yuka gave some of that back to her, not that she would notice.
She noticed Nick, directly in front of them, yet somehow on the sidelines, too. All mopey, sad. Regretful. He muttered some attempt at a defense, and then stopped trying. He had indeed killed Beryl.
The fire continued to grow in the back of Yuka's mind, all the while. Teresa was being all secretive and useless, Nick's friend was being all mean and threatening, and Nick was... there. That was all that was needed to stoke the fire, his presence. And, Teresa wasn't getting the message and Nick's friend probably had some gun stowed in there or whatever, but Yuka felt like a coiled spring pushed back as far and possible, and Nick was right there, and he killed Beryl, so he deserved it, he deserved it, he'd taken Beryl from her, he deserved it, right, but if it went wrong, then Yuka would lose more than just a few fingers, and
He was looking down. He wasn't looking at them.
Fuck it.
With a scream, Yuka pulled out her knife and ran towards him.
at whatever Nick and his friend's time meant, but that didn't matter right now. What mattered was that they were being all slick and suspicious and shady and shit, what mattered was that Yuka was scared and suspecting and seething and shit, and it was different, it was good, but it was dangerous, and then Nick's friend looked at Teresa.And points were made! Like, at least three out of four of the people here were killers, that was true. Nick also did kill Beryl, Yuka's bestie, facts only here. But.
Yuka didn't know, actually. About Reuben. Mascot guy. She vaguely remembered that Teresa had been on the announcements before, and she was still alive, so. But, she hadn't been paying much attention to names. There had been other names she had been looking out for, before. Nothing else had mattered. And, when they had met up back at the house with Michael, nothing else mattered. Teresa was there, and that was that. But, according to Nick's friend, Teresa had had another ally, and that ally was no longer around.
She'd have to ask about that later, perhaps. Another time.
Teresa didn't acknowledge Yuka's attempt at sending a message, just looked back at Nick's friend with a sort of vitriol. Yuka gave some of that back to her, not that she would notice.
She noticed Nick, directly in front of them, yet somehow on the sidelines, too. All mopey, sad. Regretful. He muttered some attempt at a defense, and then stopped trying. He had indeed killed Beryl.
The fire continued to grow in the back of Yuka's mind, all the while. Teresa was being all secretive and useless, Nick's friend was being all mean and threatening, and Nick was... there. That was all that was needed to stoke the fire, his presence. And, Teresa wasn't getting the message and Nick's friend probably had some gun stowed in there or whatever, but Yuka felt like a coiled spring pushed back as far and possible, and Nick was right there, and he killed Beryl, so he deserved it, he deserved it, he'd taken Beryl from her, he deserved it, right, but if it went wrong, then Yuka would lose more than just a few fingers, and
He was looking down. He wasn't looking at them.
Fuck it.
With a scream, Yuka pulled out her knife and ran towards him.
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General Goose
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When he heard the scream, Nick knew what was happening.
He even knew the motive. Like, okay. He knew how beloved Beryl was. Knew how many people cared about her eccentric ways and idiosyncratic view on the world. How unique and irreplaceable at was. How many would - rightfully - be angry at him for hurting her back home. How many would - justifiably yet incorrectly - think his killing her was some contemptable act of violence, possibly vengeful, possibly misogynistic, likely psychotic.
It wasn't guesswork. He'd gotten a bit complacent, sure. Around company that trusted him. That understood him. That had reason to accept his remorse as genuine. That saw him as someone worthy of sympathy, empathy, at the very worst pity. But he'd trodden this road before. He knew what it meant. Nick knew where it started, where it could finish.
One of the two was screaming at him. He only realised it was Yuka after the fact. Why Yuka was attacking him - rather than the killers of her siblings, whoever they were, Nick couldn't remember - was a mystery. Seemed like a poor use of priority. You could only count on getting one YOLO charge, after all. There was every risk it'd go south. But it didn't matter. Both girls were small. Tiny, really, in comparison to Nick. Wasn't like one posed more of a threat than the other.
The knife did complicate things.
He was lifting his arm up before he noticed. Nick probably wouldn't have taken that measure if he was acting deliberately - he couldn't logically justify any notion of self-defence in this sort of circumstance. But his impulses were ready. That innate human drive to survive, that it was better to take a slash from a knife on the forearm than on the torso, that he wasn't going to die today without putting up some kind of fight, kicked in.
The blade slashed across his arm a couple of times. Nick would worry about that later. For now, he could still move his arm, and adrenaline was overpowering whatever hesitation the feelings of pain would otherwise have caused.
Yuka ended up going to the side. A swift, decisive blow, Nick throwing his arm against her weight, was enough to knock her off course. Without pausing, without thinking, he picked up a big slab of stone. One that had been lying on the ground, unnoticed and uncommented upon, by his feet, and he was holding it over her head, breathing heavily, blood trickling down his arm and seeping into the fabric of his shirt, rage now the dominant expression on his face.
"One good reason," he spat out, yelling, loud enough that even Nick was caught off guard by how thunderous his roaring was. "One good reason for me not to fucking end you now!" Turns out Nick's impulses were as primed for offence as they were for defence.
He even knew the motive. Like, okay. He knew how beloved Beryl was. Knew how many people cared about her eccentric ways and idiosyncratic view on the world. How unique and irreplaceable at was. How many would - rightfully - be angry at him for hurting her back home. How many would - justifiably yet incorrectly - think his killing her was some contemptable act of violence, possibly vengeful, possibly misogynistic, likely psychotic.
It wasn't guesswork. He'd gotten a bit complacent, sure. Around company that trusted him. That understood him. That had reason to accept his remorse as genuine. That saw him as someone worthy of sympathy, empathy, at the very worst pity. But he'd trodden this road before. He knew what it meant. Nick knew where it started, where it could finish.
One of the two was screaming at him. He only realised it was Yuka after the fact. Why Yuka was attacking him - rather than the killers of her siblings, whoever they were, Nick couldn't remember - was a mystery. Seemed like a poor use of priority. You could only count on getting one YOLO charge, after all. There was every risk it'd go south. But it didn't matter. Both girls were small. Tiny, really, in comparison to Nick. Wasn't like one posed more of a threat than the other.
The knife did complicate things.
He was lifting his arm up before he noticed. Nick probably wouldn't have taken that measure if he was acting deliberately - he couldn't logically justify any notion of self-defence in this sort of circumstance. But his impulses were ready. That innate human drive to survive, that it was better to take a slash from a knife on the forearm than on the torso, that he wasn't going to die today without putting up some kind of fight, kicked in.
The blade slashed across his arm a couple of times. Nick would worry about that later. For now, he could still move his arm, and adrenaline was overpowering whatever hesitation the feelings of pain would otherwise have caused.
Yuka ended up going to the side. A swift, decisive blow, Nick throwing his arm against her weight, was enough to knock her off course. Without pausing, without thinking, he picked up a big slab of stone. One that had been lying on the ground, unnoticed and uncommented upon, by his feet, and he was holding it over her head, breathing heavily, blood trickling down his arm and seeping into the fabric of his shirt, rage now the dominant expression on his face.
"One good reason," he spat out, yelling, loud enough that even Nick was caught off guard by how thunderous his roaring was. "One good reason for me not to fucking end you now!" Turns out Nick's impulses were as primed for offence as they were for defence.
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Emprexx Plush
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He'd been trying not to let himself drift away in elaborate fantasies of violence, that was on record. He had not gone into the specifics of what he'd do to either of them if they made a move. General preparation sure. It would be foolish to let his guard all the way down with two murderers running around making threats, but he was trying, really really trying, not to let himself go overboard again. It would be so easy. Both of them were giving him so many hooks to see the situation turn for the worst and imagine himself coming out on top, but he held back. He was doing good.
Yuka rushed Nick. The spiral came on so fast he wasn't totally aware it was all in his head until it was over. It had these layers, because before he imagined what he would do he imagined what she wanted. He saw the knife in her hand, and then he saw it in Nick's neck. Blood spurted into her screaming mouth as she went for another wound like he wasn't already dying. The violence that possessed her so suddenly wasn't rational, it had no prompting, so it wouldn't stop just because her job was already done. She was insane. She had to be stopped. Right? So he indulged himself in where this went next. He saw himself thrown into her path with the blade at the ready. Yuka would get him but he was shorter than Nick, she'd have to reposition her whole swing, so he imagined she would bury her knife in his shoulder first. He wasn't going to let her have it back, no, with a jerk he'd twist away before she could shift her grip and rear back with his right hand. That face caught half between shock and fury would get raked with four sharp lines dragged from forehead to chin. Superficial, probably, but it would throw her off. The blood would get in her eyes before she could reach for the knife, and Teresa was too far away to help her. By the time she abandoned her corner it'd be two on one in one fashion or another.
That's how it all looked in his head.
His hand barely cleared the bag before Yuka sliced up Nick's arm. Marco started to open his mouth to scream but it stayed hanging silent when just as fast as she came she was on the ground and Nick was towering over her. He hadn't had to think about how strong he was until now. It was so easy for him to heft this huge rock and leverage it as a deadly weapon, not just easy but casual. He held it over Yuka's head like you'd hold a shoe over a spider, the cuts on his arm coming off more like annoyances than wounds. It was powerful. Marco was captivated. So many times he'd imagined himself coming to Nick's rescue but he'd never pictured what Nick would be like in motion. How could anybody touch them if he wanted to fight back? Marco shouldn't have been worried about Nick in all of their encounters. He should have been worried about everybody who had bothered them. He could have crushed them.
He was going to crush her.
The fantasy shattered with that realization. Yuka was nothing to them. The time Nick was giving her to explain herself was courtesy but it might already be up, because what could she say that would justify herself? How could they be sure she wouldn't take up after them as soon as her life wasn't in danger? If not on their way out, what about tomorrow? What about in their sleep? What about when they found themselves distracted with somebody else? Maybe he'd thought all these things through or maybe he hadn't, but Marco could find compelling cases in all of them. She was still a person though. A life. Another weight on Nick's shoulders he was going to have to justify, and Marco remembered how broken he'd been on the day they met. He didn't know how many more days like that Nick had in him. It didn't have to go down like this. He'd showed him that.
Marco put a hand on his arm and spoke softly. "Nick, we don't need this. The announcements, it, more people will start looking for you. She's down. You don't have to..."
They didn't have to go all the way.
"You should go for her legs."
Just far enough.
"They won't say anything about that, and she won't hurt anyone else."
Yuka rushed Nick. The spiral came on so fast he wasn't totally aware it was all in his head until it was over. It had these layers, because before he imagined what he would do he imagined what she wanted. He saw the knife in her hand, and then he saw it in Nick's neck. Blood spurted into her screaming mouth as she went for another wound like he wasn't already dying. The violence that possessed her so suddenly wasn't rational, it had no prompting, so it wouldn't stop just because her job was already done. She was insane. She had to be stopped. Right? So he indulged himself in where this went next. He saw himself thrown into her path with the blade at the ready. Yuka would get him but he was shorter than Nick, she'd have to reposition her whole swing, so he imagined she would bury her knife in his shoulder first. He wasn't going to let her have it back, no, with a jerk he'd twist away before she could shift her grip and rear back with his right hand. That face caught half between shock and fury would get raked with four sharp lines dragged from forehead to chin. Superficial, probably, but it would throw her off. The blood would get in her eyes before she could reach for the knife, and Teresa was too far away to help her. By the time she abandoned her corner it'd be two on one in one fashion or another.
That's how it all looked in his head.
His hand barely cleared the bag before Yuka sliced up Nick's arm. Marco started to open his mouth to scream but it stayed hanging silent when just as fast as she came she was on the ground and Nick was towering over her. He hadn't had to think about how strong he was until now. It was so easy for him to heft this huge rock and leverage it as a deadly weapon, not just easy but casual. He held it over Yuka's head like you'd hold a shoe over a spider, the cuts on his arm coming off more like annoyances than wounds. It was powerful. Marco was captivated. So many times he'd imagined himself coming to Nick's rescue but he'd never pictured what Nick would be like in motion. How could anybody touch them if he wanted to fight back? Marco shouldn't have been worried about Nick in all of their encounters. He should have been worried about everybody who had bothered them. He could have crushed them.
He was going to crush her.
The fantasy shattered with that realization. Yuka was nothing to them. The time Nick was giving her to explain herself was courtesy but it might already be up, because what could she say that would justify herself? How could they be sure she wouldn't take up after them as soon as her life wasn't in danger? If not on their way out, what about tomorrow? What about in their sleep? What about when they found themselves distracted with somebody else? Maybe he'd thought all these things through or maybe he hadn't, but Marco could find compelling cases in all of them. She was still a person though. A life. Another weight on Nick's shoulders he was going to have to justify, and Marco remembered how broken he'd been on the day they met. He didn't know how many more days like that Nick had in him. It didn't have to go down like this. He'd showed him that.
Marco put a hand on his arm and spoke softly. "Nick, we don't need this. The announcements, it, more people will start looking for you. She's down. You don't have to..."
They didn't have to go all the way.
"You should go for her legs."
Just far enough.
"They won't say anything about that, and she won't hurt anyone else."
Yuka held out her left hand instinctively when she fell. She felt more than heard something snap; it was like her fingers were chopped off once more. The pain was transcendent in a way. The air was knocked out of her, so she couldn't scream even if she wanted to. She had gone past that point anyways, into a white noise, a tinny, ringing noise, visual, aural, all-encompassing. Her right hand held her left wrist in a death grip, tried to choke the pain out as if it was possible, as if it would lessen the pain by any degree; it didn't.
Somehow, despite all that, she still heard every word Nick and his friend said. And, after she'd gotten some breaths in, after a few seconds of stunned silence, a sort of high-pitched sound bubbled out of Yuka's throat, disjointed. Whether it was screaming, laughing, sobbing didn't really matter, it was all the same if you thought about it.
Like, of course the fight would be over before it had barely begun. Yuka wasn't allowed to win anything, after all, nothing good was supposed to happen to her. She couldn't avenge her sisters, she couldn't kill the right person, she couldn't even get a fucking weapon. Of course Nick would end it in a second, because that's how things were. Of course Teresa wouldn't even try to help her, because what fucking good was she?
And, and, she was about to be killed or crippled or whatever, but that mix of a laugh and a scream kept coming because this was different right? This was good? She was terrified, she was angry, but it was different, at least?
She stopped making that sound, after a while. She lifted her head up a bit, looked Nick in the eyes.
"IT WASN'T LIKE WHAT, NICK?" she asked in a rough, rasping voice. "It- it, it wasn't like THIS? Beryl died all peaceful and calm? Oh, TRUST ME, Nick, I am SO reassured!"
She dropped her head back on the ground, water leaked out the sides of her eyes.
She almost told him to do it, to drop the rock, but she felt that went unsaid, at this point. They'd do it with or without her input at this point, it didn't matter. Nothing did.
The sound came back full-force.
Somehow, despite all that, she still heard every word Nick and his friend said. And, after she'd gotten some breaths in, after a few seconds of stunned silence, a sort of high-pitched sound bubbled out of Yuka's throat, disjointed. Whether it was screaming, laughing, sobbing didn't really matter, it was all the same if you thought about it.
Like, of course the fight would be over before it had barely begun. Yuka wasn't allowed to win anything, after all, nothing good was supposed to happen to her. She couldn't avenge her sisters, she couldn't kill the right person, she couldn't even get a fucking weapon. Of course Nick would end it in a second, because that's how things were. Of course Teresa wouldn't even try to help her, because what fucking good was she?
And, and, she was about to be killed or crippled or whatever, but that mix of a laugh and a scream kept coming because this was different right? This was good? She was terrified, she was angry, but it was different, at least?
She stopped making that sound, after a while. She lifted her head up a bit, looked Nick in the eyes.
"IT WASN'T LIKE WHAT, NICK?" she asked in a rough, rasping voice. "It- it, it wasn't like THIS? Beryl died all peaceful and calm? Oh, TRUST ME, Nick, I am SO reassured!"
She dropped her head back on the ground, water leaked out the sides of her eyes.
She almost told him to do it, to drop the rock, but she felt that went unsaid, at this point. They'd do it with or without her input at this point, it didn't matter. Nothing did.
The sound came back full-force.
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General Goose
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He heard Marco's advice.
Marco was being smart. Practical. Callous, yes, but in a way that the island required. What they were doing was wrong, yes. Monstrous, even. But Nick couldn't see how he could be squeamish right now, or too fastidious about the letter of moral rules. The games of the island were entirely self-justifying, and that kind of cheating to get around the announcements was...well, Nick knew from personal experience it was the smart thing to do. He didn't respond to Marco, though. He let the advice fester. Sit at the back of his mind, inform his decision-making, decide how he acted and reacted.
"Beryl...didn't fucking charge me with a knife," Nick replied, voice shaking, anger and hatred and genuine loathing - and god, he'd forgotten just how bewildering and exhilarating it was to feel such pure and undiluted hatred. He wasn't shouting, for a moment, but his voice was still loud. Booming, even. He didn't need to put the effort into shouting to be the loudest thing in the entire area, to break the silence in the still and humid air.
"Beryl," Nick continued, before pausing to take a breath. He wanted to be clear. It was hard, though, his emotions - such a toxic, jumbled, dizzying mess of emotions - all leaving their own unique mark on his way of speaking. He was trying to steady his voice, placing emphasis on every syllable, though his intonation and accent varied wildly with every other word despite that effort. He looked into Yuka's eyes. At least, as much as she let him do so.
She was crying.
Nick usually had empathy for those who were crying. But right now? No. He hadn't remembered Beryl crying. She'd been powerless too. She'd been left a mere victim of forces beyond her control, robbed of her autonomy and agency in her final moments in a way that Yuka hadn't. Even Jeremiah - who had been battered and bruised and had had his throat crushed - he hadn't cried. At least, not to Nick's recollection. No, he'd left the tears to the survivors.
But Yuka? She could still talk. She could still move. She was just beaten. Bested. And she was crying.
Nick wanted to point it out. Rub salt in the wound that he hadn't even made yet. But he stopped himself. Whether it was from silently bumping up against a line that he wouldn't cross, or some ill-articulated and unprocessed inclination that it would be an unwise step to take, Nick returned to his original strategy. "Beryl...Beryl had been shot. She was...she couldn't fucking move. She couldn't fucking talk. It was Darlene." Nick didn't really care about shifting the blame any more. He couldn't remember if Darlene was still alive or not. "She didn't know how to work a gun, shot Beryl by mistake."
"And if I do end up fucking killing you..."
Nick scowled. His voice dropped to a low whisper.
"Beryl was a mercy kill. Jeremiah was self-defence. You'd just be straight up fucking murder. Rule of three, I guess. Which I'm sure you know all about, Hayashibara."
He lowered the rock. Just a couple of inches, to deny a throw full momentum. Took a step back. Glanced at Teresa, just to check that she hadn't suddenly become a threat as his attention was distracted. He trusted Marco on that front, though. Marco had his head on straight. Could at least see how to do wrong right.
"Run. Fuck off. Go. Before I turn your legs into a fine powder that you and Teresa can snort up and get really legless with."
He held up the rock again.
"Go."
Marco was being smart. Practical. Callous, yes, but in a way that the island required. What they were doing was wrong, yes. Monstrous, even. But Nick couldn't see how he could be squeamish right now, or too fastidious about the letter of moral rules. The games of the island were entirely self-justifying, and that kind of cheating to get around the announcements was...well, Nick knew from personal experience it was the smart thing to do. He didn't respond to Marco, though. He let the advice fester. Sit at the back of his mind, inform his decision-making, decide how he acted and reacted.
"Beryl...didn't fucking charge me with a knife," Nick replied, voice shaking, anger and hatred and genuine loathing - and god, he'd forgotten just how bewildering and exhilarating it was to feel such pure and undiluted hatred. He wasn't shouting, for a moment, but his voice was still loud. Booming, even. He didn't need to put the effort into shouting to be the loudest thing in the entire area, to break the silence in the still and humid air.
"Beryl," Nick continued, before pausing to take a breath. He wanted to be clear. It was hard, though, his emotions - such a toxic, jumbled, dizzying mess of emotions - all leaving their own unique mark on his way of speaking. He was trying to steady his voice, placing emphasis on every syllable, though his intonation and accent varied wildly with every other word despite that effort. He looked into Yuka's eyes. At least, as much as she let him do so.
She was crying.
Nick usually had empathy for those who were crying. But right now? No. He hadn't remembered Beryl crying. She'd been powerless too. She'd been left a mere victim of forces beyond her control, robbed of her autonomy and agency in her final moments in a way that Yuka hadn't. Even Jeremiah - who had been battered and bruised and had had his throat crushed - he hadn't cried. At least, not to Nick's recollection. No, he'd left the tears to the survivors.
But Yuka? She could still talk. She could still move. She was just beaten. Bested. And she was crying.
Nick wanted to point it out. Rub salt in the wound that he hadn't even made yet. But he stopped himself. Whether it was from silently bumping up against a line that he wouldn't cross, or some ill-articulated and unprocessed inclination that it would be an unwise step to take, Nick returned to his original strategy. "Beryl...Beryl had been shot. She was...she couldn't fucking move. She couldn't fucking talk. It was Darlene." Nick didn't really care about shifting the blame any more. He couldn't remember if Darlene was still alive or not. "She didn't know how to work a gun, shot Beryl by mistake."
"And if I do end up fucking killing you..."
Nick scowled. His voice dropped to a low whisper.
"Beryl was a mercy kill. Jeremiah was self-defence. You'd just be straight up fucking murder. Rule of three, I guess. Which I'm sure you know all about, Hayashibara."
He lowered the rock. Just a couple of inches, to deny a throw full momentum. Took a step back. Glanced at Teresa, just to check that she hadn't suddenly become a threat as his attention was distracted. He trusted Marco on that front, though. Marco had his head on straight. Could at least see how to do wrong right.
"Run. Fuck off. Go. Before I turn your legs into a fine powder that you and Teresa can snort up and get really legless with."
He held up the rock again.
"Go."
Heh. That was mildly entertaining. .gif worthy, even.
But anyway, yeah. Show's over. Nothing to see here. Can't go home but you can't stay here, etc. etc. Something like that.
BYE-STANDER stood and walked over to the thunderdome after getting her sea legs back, gingerly but with enough reasonable doubt to look a little concerned or empathetic or whatever.
"Come on," she extended her hand to Yuka the Crybaby bawling out all in front of God and everyone else, her voice subdued but perhaps perpusefully audible enough for everyone besides Yuka. "Let's jet so the big strong men can go bully someone else."
Now the next question.... who the fuck was Darlene?
((continued elsewhere))
But anyway, yeah. Show's over. Nothing to see here. Can't go home but you can't stay here, etc. etc. Something like that.
BYE-STANDER stood and walked over to the thunderdome after getting her sea legs back, gingerly but with enough reasonable doubt to look a little concerned or empathetic or whatever.
"Come on," she extended her hand to Yuka the Crybaby bawling out all in front of God and everyone else, her voice subdued but perhaps perpusefully audible enough for everyone besides Yuka. "Let's jet so the big strong men can go bully someone else."
Now the next question.... who the fuck was Darlene?
((continued elsewhere))
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Emprexx Plush
- Posts: 1678
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 3:37 pm
- Contact:
Teresa and Yuka were murderers. One of them was already playing it off with quips and if the other could pull herself together she'd be right along behind her. They would let them. Yuka could get up like she hadn't tried to kill Nick with the knife that'd been in Roxie not too long ago, and she'd probably try it again on the next person she saw. Michael, Nick, who could say who else she would end up blaming. If she had any idea who she was maybe she would have taken a stab at him for Kayla. It was only a matter of time before she got to someone else. If she walked away. Marco decided he was okay with that.
Marco and Nick were murderers. They'd hurt people. They were going to hurt people again if they got pushed. Sooner or later threats wouldn't be enough. Someone wouldn't be willing to de-escalate. When the time came there wasn't any question they could do it. Just how far they would have to go. That was one of two things that separated them from Teresa and Yuka; whatever mistakes they'd made before, now they were just doing what was needed to get by. There was another big one though. Say that Teresa and Yuka deserved to die for what they'd done, he knew that wasn't a call he was allowed to make all things being equal but for the sake of argument assume that the killing they'd done was worse than theirs. Nick and Marco trusted each other. They were in, okay, not finishing that thought, that might be going a step too far. Regardless. The things they'd done didn't strain the bond between them. Marco didn't know much about what happened with Yuka and Roxie and Michael, but Teresa had betrayed someone. Hey, wasn't she betraying her right now? Nick could have crushed her legs and she probably would have cut her losses. Maybe sang a little song to drown out the screams. That seemed like her energy.
Marco looked down at Yuka and felt his heart twist in his chest. His hand slipped out of the glove, it wasn't needed. Part of him wanted to tell her to go but not with Teresa. Being alone was better than being with someone who would sell you out the second it was convenient. It was kind of hard to imagine taking life advice from someone who just suggested breaking your legs and leaving you to figure it out though, yeah? That was pretty messed up? He didn't know what he was doing. He rubbed slow circles on Nick's arms and swallowed. "Don't look for us, or for Michael." Tried to sound tough but he should have figured how that was going to come out before he opened his mouth. "And," what was he doing, "and," this was a bad idea, "you should find somebody else to trust." Marco couldn't make himself look at Teresa. "Before she kills you."
He sounded stupid. They wouldn't care even if he didn't. Yuka was very, very fragile though, you didn't have to be close to her to understand that after all she'd done. He understood what that was like because he'd made all kinds of bad decisions from that place himself already. It wouldn't mean anything, 9999999999999999999 times out of 100000000000000000000.
1 in 30000 had looked pretty unlikely a week ago though. Who could confidently say that 1 in 100000000000000000000 wasn't going to hit them this round too?
Marco and Nick were murderers. They'd hurt people. They were going to hurt people again if they got pushed. Sooner or later threats wouldn't be enough. Someone wouldn't be willing to de-escalate. When the time came there wasn't any question they could do it. Just how far they would have to go. That was one of two things that separated them from Teresa and Yuka; whatever mistakes they'd made before, now they were just doing what was needed to get by. There was another big one though. Say that Teresa and Yuka deserved to die for what they'd done, he knew that wasn't a call he was allowed to make all things being equal but for the sake of argument assume that the killing they'd done was worse than theirs. Nick and Marco trusted each other. They were in, okay, not finishing that thought, that might be going a step too far. Regardless. The things they'd done didn't strain the bond between them. Marco didn't know much about what happened with Yuka and Roxie and Michael, but Teresa had betrayed someone. Hey, wasn't she betraying her right now? Nick could have crushed her legs and she probably would have cut her losses. Maybe sang a little song to drown out the screams. That seemed like her energy.
Marco looked down at Yuka and felt his heart twist in his chest. His hand slipped out of the glove, it wasn't needed. Part of him wanted to tell her to go but not with Teresa. Being alone was better than being with someone who would sell you out the second it was convenient. It was kind of hard to imagine taking life advice from someone who just suggested breaking your legs and leaving you to figure it out though, yeah? That was pretty messed up? He didn't know what he was doing. He rubbed slow circles on Nick's arms and swallowed. "Don't look for us, or for Michael." Tried to sound tough but he should have figured how that was going to come out before he opened his mouth. "And," what was he doing, "and," this was a bad idea, "you should find somebody else to trust." Marco couldn't make himself look at Teresa. "Before she kills you."
He sounded stupid. They wouldn't care even if he didn't. Yuka was very, very fragile though, you didn't have to be close to her to understand that after all she'd done. He understood what that was like because he'd made all kinds of bad decisions from that place himself already. It wouldn't mean anything, 9999999999999999999 times out of 100000000000000000000.
1 in 30000 had looked pretty unlikely a week ago though. Who could confidently say that 1 in 100000000000000000000 wasn't going to hit them this round too?
The noise stopped completely when their last name came out of Nick's mouth. She turned her head towards Nick, fixed her eyes on him.
Yuka wanted to kill him, at that moment. She wanted to break his legs with that rock he was holding, pulverize them and bend them the wrong way. She wanted to cut the fingers off his hands, one by one, so that he couldn't hold even his partner's hand, much less the rock. She wanted to cut his tongue out, once she had wrung every possible futile apology from him, so he could not say their last name again. She wanted to stab him with the knife in her hand, over and over and over again, until his stomach looked like Yuko's.
She wanted, but she merely wanted. Nick had the rock, she had a knife. She had to retreat, again. She had to fail, again. There would be another day, if she just ran out of her with Teresa like Nick said, but she was so fucking tired of waiting.
The edges of her lips pulled downwards, skin pulled taut across her face. Her eyes stayed fixed on Nick. There was hate etched in every crease of her face.
But, she would wait anyways.
She pushed herself up from the ground, left Teresa's hand in the air. And she looked at Nick's friend.
"Don't fucking tell me what to do."
She walked ahead of Teresa, away from the other two.
((Yuka Hayashibara continues in Ron Gets a Bath As Well, Whether He Wants To or Not))
Yuka wanted to kill him, at that moment. She wanted to break his legs with that rock he was holding, pulverize them and bend them the wrong way. She wanted to cut the fingers off his hands, one by one, so that he couldn't hold even his partner's hand, much less the rock. She wanted to cut his tongue out, once she had wrung every possible futile apology from him, so he could not say their last name again. She wanted to stab him with the knife in her hand, over and over and over again, until his stomach looked like Yuko's.
She wanted, but she merely wanted. Nick had the rock, she had a knife. She had to retreat, again. She had to fail, again. There would be another day, if she just ran out of her with Teresa like Nick said, but she was so fucking tired of waiting.
The edges of her lips pulled downwards, skin pulled taut across her face. Her eyes stayed fixed on Nick. There was hate etched in every crease of her face.
But, she would wait anyways.
She pushed herself up from the ground, left Teresa's hand in the air. And she looked at Nick's friend.
"Don't fucking tell me what to do."
She walked ahead of Teresa, away from the other two.
((Yuka Hayashibara continues in Ron Gets a Bath As Well, Whether He Wants To or Not))
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General Goose
- Posts: 731
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 4:02 pm
"Bully someone else?" Nick called out incredulously. God, what a perfect way to wind him up as they left for the exits. Like they'd left a really pungent fart in a lift and then waltzed away. "Your girl attacked me, you fucking numpty!" It had taken Nick a few seconds to work out exactly why the remark had annoyed him so much - or more specifically, whether it was a just and valid thing to get outraged over, which, hey, it was - so he called out to them as they left.
He turned to Marco once they were left alone. Dropped the stone. Switched into rant mode, in hushed tones, like he was at a party and had just been unfairly slighted by someone and Marco was the nearest person that he could vent to. "Like, fair play if they fucking criticised me for something I did do," Nick rambled, waving his arm in a half-pointing gesture in the direction that they'd sauntered off in, "and I know I've been a bully and a shit in the past, but, like, the only times I actually seem to face any consequences or judgement or whatever are when I'm acting in self-defence, or when I'm otherwise in the fucking right. And I was in the right there. Crazy little Napoleon complex bitch attacked me. You saw that. Cameras and everything. And fucking Teresa's all like...oh, we're the bullies now."
He hadn't cared about Marco's final words of advice, or Yuka's obvious upset at the comments Nick had made (which, in their tactically worthless sadism, were probably more worthy of contempt than the whole leg stone-smashing plan), or Teresa's final middle finger. Nick didn't care about any of that. They were alone now. Safe. He buried his head in his hands and, muffling his mouth, let out an enranged scream.
Nick spat on the ground.
"Fucking cunts everywhere. As far as the eye can see."
He turned to Marco once they were left alone. Dropped the stone. Switched into rant mode, in hushed tones, like he was at a party and had just been unfairly slighted by someone and Marco was the nearest person that he could vent to. "Like, fair play if they fucking criticised me for something I did do," Nick rambled, waving his arm in a half-pointing gesture in the direction that they'd sauntered off in, "and I know I've been a bully and a shit in the past, but, like, the only times I actually seem to face any consequences or judgement or whatever are when I'm acting in self-defence, or when I'm otherwise in the fucking right. And I was in the right there. Crazy little Napoleon complex bitch attacked me. You saw that. Cameras and everything. And fucking Teresa's all like...oh, we're the bullies now."
He hadn't cared about Marco's final words of advice, or Yuka's obvious upset at the comments Nick had made (which, in their tactically worthless sadism, were probably more worthy of contempt than the whole leg stone-smashing plan), or Teresa's final middle finger. Nick didn't care about any of that. They were alone now. Safe. He buried his head in his hands and, muffling his mouth, let out an enranged scream.
Nick spat on the ground.
"Fucking cunts everywhere. As far as the eye can see."
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Emprexx Plush
- Posts: 1678
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 3:37 pm
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It would have been kinder to smash her skull.
He knew how messed up it was to think like that but the thought couldn't be avoided watching her walk away. For reasons Marco couldn't wrap his head around Yuka had decided to hate Nick and trust Teresa. That wasn't quite right, he understood why she hated Nick. Understanding the aggression that passed between them was what would have made her death here kinder, just thinking about it as an arc. Right here she had something to accomplish, it was obvious the whole time she was waiting for an excuse to jump and it wouldn't have made Yuka feel any better to kill him but it probably made her feel better all too briefly to hurt him. Marco had thought about the moment of violence a lot these last few days, how things kinda shut off and the regret only really starts to get in after it's all over. If there had been no hesitance on Nick's follow through her last feelings could have been some overpowering mix of her hate for him and the rush that came with attempting to avenge her friend. The stone wouldn't give her a lot of time for reflection. It'd be quick, and she'd have nothing to lose. Yes. It was messed up. But it had to be better than the alternative right?
To be unaware and at ease somewhere in the forest? Or falling asleep in one of the buildings? S Forcing down another meal in the caves? Threatening by the lake? Marco could spin dozens of scenarios but as long as Yuka stayed on the path she was on she was gonna be in them thinking there was somebody at her side who was going to help her out. Nick had held off on breaking her bones but how easily she could have died while Teresa just watched should have shattered that illusion to pieces; it didn't, since they walked off together, which is how Marco figured she'd been totally consumed with him right up until they disappeared from the exhibit. Yuka was still intent on relying on her. She wasn't going to be prepared when during any of those moments Teresa decided she had outlived her usefulness. Reuben had been stabbed, he thought, and that could go quickly too, Marco knew just how quickly. Teresa went after the right spot or with the right tenacity and Yuka wouldn't suffer long. When it played out in his head though, it was slow. Teresa wouldn't get her on the first swing, probably not the second either, maybe not the fifth. It'd hurt. The wounds and that the last feeling Yuka would feel was betrayal. Then she would die alone. Teresa might leave her to wallow in blood and failure.
Marco wasn't supposed to be thinking about things like this anymore. It was unhealthy.
The image didn't shake when he pivoted to put a hand on Nick's shoulder.
They weren't good people. Marco couldn't echo him that they were in the right. Maybe Nick was, but he knew he wasn't. Which made it also kinda messed up that Nick was the only one who ever had vengeful friends banging down their door. It seemed like every day they were running in to somebody screaming about Beryl and nobody had so much as said Kayla's name in anger to him. Garnet mentioned her but, but he got the feeling that she could have been replaced by near anyone else and Garnet would be just as furious. Garnet cared about her broken expectations of him. She probably didn't even know Kayla. Had she been so alone that nobody cared when she died as more than another name?
Could he say he was going to end up any different?
He squeezed Nick's shoulder. "We're just doing what we have to..." It was a limp statement. Cookie cutter too, the kind of thing you saw in every script with moral ambiguity. He tried to force out something more meaningful. "She came after you, yeah, Teresa was just...I don't know her. So I don't know. She just watched though. Almost like, like it was a show for her, like if you'd done it she would have clapped."
They weren't good, but they weren't as bad as her.
As a lot of people out there.
Maybe most everyone who had made it this far, and if it was too late for everyone who didn't make it then was there any point in comparing themselves to them? That, that was just reasonable wasn't it? Garnet had asked him 'Why do you deserve it and they don't?' He'd changed the subject because he didn't have a good answer then. When people like him were all that was left though, people who were making the game run, was that a good enough time to start comparing each other? When he'd done the worst thing he'd done because he spiraled into a breakdown, and done everything since then trying to solidify his last chance to live like himself?
That didn't make him good.
It just made him better.
Marco was okay with being better.
He knew how messed up it was to think like that but the thought couldn't be avoided watching her walk away. For reasons Marco couldn't wrap his head around Yuka had decided to hate Nick and trust Teresa. That wasn't quite right, he understood why she hated Nick. Understanding the aggression that passed between them was what would have made her death here kinder, just thinking about it as an arc. Right here she had something to accomplish, it was obvious the whole time she was waiting for an excuse to jump and it wouldn't have made Yuka feel any better to kill him but it probably made her feel better all too briefly to hurt him. Marco had thought about the moment of violence a lot these last few days, how things kinda shut off and the regret only really starts to get in after it's all over. If there had been no hesitance on Nick's follow through her last feelings could have been some overpowering mix of her hate for him and the rush that came with attempting to avenge her friend. The stone wouldn't give her a lot of time for reflection. It'd be quick, and she'd have nothing to lose. Yes. It was messed up. But it had to be better than the alternative right?
To be unaware and at ease somewhere in the forest? Or falling asleep in one of the buildings? S Forcing down another meal in the caves? Threatening by the lake? Marco could spin dozens of scenarios but as long as Yuka stayed on the path she was on she was gonna be in them thinking there was somebody at her side who was going to help her out. Nick had held off on breaking her bones but how easily she could have died while Teresa just watched should have shattered that illusion to pieces; it didn't, since they walked off together, which is how Marco figured she'd been totally consumed with him right up until they disappeared from the exhibit. Yuka was still intent on relying on her. She wasn't going to be prepared when during any of those moments Teresa decided she had outlived her usefulness. Reuben had been stabbed, he thought, and that could go quickly too, Marco knew just how quickly. Teresa went after the right spot or with the right tenacity and Yuka wouldn't suffer long. When it played out in his head though, it was slow. Teresa wouldn't get her on the first swing, probably not the second either, maybe not the fifth. It'd hurt. The wounds and that the last feeling Yuka would feel was betrayal. Then she would die alone. Teresa might leave her to wallow in blood and failure.
Marco wasn't supposed to be thinking about things like this anymore. It was unhealthy.
The image didn't shake when he pivoted to put a hand on Nick's shoulder.
They weren't good people. Marco couldn't echo him that they were in the right. Maybe Nick was, but he knew he wasn't. Which made it also kinda messed up that Nick was the only one who ever had vengeful friends banging down their door. It seemed like every day they were running in to somebody screaming about Beryl and nobody had so much as said Kayla's name in anger to him. Garnet mentioned her but, but he got the feeling that she could have been replaced by near anyone else and Garnet would be just as furious. Garnet cared about her broken expectations of him. She probably didn't even know Kayla. Had she been so alone that nobody cared when she died as more than another name?
Could he say he was going to end up any different?
He squeezed Nick's shoulder. "We're just doing what we have to..." It was a limp statement. Cookie cutter too, the kind of thing you saw in every script with moral ambiguity. He tried to force out something more meaningful. "She came after you, yeah, Teresa was just...I don't know her. So I don't know. She just watched though. Almost like, like it was a show for her, like if you'd done it she would have clapped."
They weren't good, but they weren't as bad as her.
As a lot of people out there.
Maybe most everyone who had made it this far, and if it was too late for everyone who didn't make it then was there any point in comparing themselves to them? That, that was just reasonable wasn't it? Garnet had asked him 'Why do you deserve it and they don't?' He'd changed the subject because he didn't have a good answer then. When people like him were all that was left though, people who were making the game run, was that a good enough time to start comparing each other? When he'd done the worst thing he'd done because he spiraled into a breakdown, and done everything since then trying to solidify his last chance to live like himself?
That didn't make him good.
It just made him better.
Marco was okay with being better.