Even through the rapidly encroaching fear of death and whatever comes after it, Anthony couldn't help but feel just a tinge of irritance. Ben didn't think to warn him about how the girl he'd killed was suddenly fucking alive, and he only chimes in when the damage is already done?
It didn't matter though, all he had to do was get his neck to stop bleeding and he'd be fine even if blood was trickling from his neck and through his fingers like flour through a sieve or sand through an hourglass or water through a plughole no matter how cold he got no matter how dim his vision was starting to get no matter how vividly he could feel his life flowing through his fingers and how he could tell that if he wasn't standing up he'd be on his back choking and drowning like verity should have
He was panicking. He'd be fine. He had to be fine. Because he hadn't won. Because good always defeated evil.
All The World's a Stage
TV3 Endgame, Part 9 of 10
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
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- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
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Rattlesnake
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:23 pm
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Rattlesnake
- Posts: 190
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:23 pm
"Bitch."
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Applesintime
- Posts: 836
- Joined: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:57 am
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
Really Ben, really? Your last survivor is dying wounded and all you'll do is call him a bitch, no wonder everyone else is dead.
It didn't matter, all he had to do was get himself off of this spear and he'd be fine, he just had to ignore how trembly his limbs felt and how his hand was barely able to even think about stemming the tide coming from his neck anymore, it was the carotids right, the same ones that he'd sliced for Beau so long ago that was funny in a way wasn't it, that they'd both been hit the same way, but Anthony would live he HAD to live because otherwise his death and her deaths would all be for nothing these people couldnt just win they had to pay for what theyd done how many murders they had done
he was cold and he just wanted to close his eyes but he struggled against that urge that instinct to let the evil win so he weakly struggled and spat gurgling like water going down a sinkhole the whole way, at least he was upright because if he wasn't he would be drowning but it didn't matter because he wasn't going to die here he couldn't die here there was still stuff he had to do
but you can't struggle against the tide forever.
Anthony thrashed and weakly hit back at Verity again, his clothes crimson with all the blood he'd lost, not caring how every movement sent agony through him, how more blood poured and slipped through the hole in his neck that was once sinew and flesh and arteries. Even if this was it, Ivan had lost. Maybe Verity and Olivia would kill each other and he'd bleed out and nobody but Seo-yun would be alive. He was scared. He was worried for his family. His friends (well, let's be real, they wouldn't care, to them he was just another murderer now), everyone he knew.
He'd always been told that when you closed your eyes before you died, there'd be a light or something. Guiding you to Heaven, or maybe it was Heaven itself, not like anyone really knew, apart from those cranks who said they died and came back and God gave them a hug personally. The thought had always comforted Anthony, especially with how many of his friends had died here. They'd seen the light, and soon he would too.
but when he closed his eyes for what he thought was the last time, let out a final shudder, a final gurgle as he breathed out, Anthony made a frightening discovery, one that opened his eyes with all the strength he could muster.
there
was
no
light
where
was
it?
WHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHE
Anthony's eyes shut again.
It didn't matter, all he had to do was get himself off of this spear and he'd be fine, he just had to ignore how trembly his limbs felt and how his hand was barely able to even think about stemming the tide coming from his neck anymore, it was the carotids right, the same ones that he'd sliced for Beau so long ago that was funny in a way wasn't it, that they'd both been hit the same way, but Anthony would live he HAD to live because otherwise his death and her deaths would all be for nothing these people couldnt just win they had to pay for what theyd done how many murders they had done
he was cold and he just wanted to close his eyes but he struggled against that urge that instinct to let the evil win so he weakly struggled and spat gurgling like water going down a sinkhole the whole way, at least he was upright because if he wasn't he would be drowning but it didn't matter because he wasn't going to die here he couldn't die here there was still stuff he had to do
but you can't struggle against the tide forever.
Anthony thrashed and weakly hit back at Verity again, his clothes crimson with all the blood he'd lost, not caring how every movement sent agony through him, how more blood poured and slipped through the hole in his neck that was once sinew and flesh and arteries. Even if this was it, Ivan had lost. Maybe Verity and Olivia would kill each other and he'd bleed out and nobody but Seo-yun would be alive. He was scared. He was worried for his family. His friends (well, let's be real, they wouldn't care, to them he was just another murderer now), everyone he knew.
He'd always been told that when you closed your eyes before you died, there'd be a light or something. Guiding you to Heaven, or maybe it was Heaven itself, not like anyone really knew, apart from those cranks who said they died and came back and God gave them a hug personally. The thought had always comforted Anthony, especially with how many of his friends had died here. They'd seen the light, and soon he would too.
but when he closed his eyes for what he thought was the last time, let out a final shudder, a final gurgle as he breathed out, Anthony made a frightening discovery, one that opened his eyes with all the strength he could muster.
there
was
no
light
where
was
it?
WHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHEREWHE
Anthony's eyes shut again.
BC04: ANTHONY GOLDEN - DECEASED
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Wham Yubeesling
- Posts: 1257
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:15 pm
- Location: there is a man standing behind you
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
- Contact:
The blast of the gun was like diving into water. One second, every noise, every little impact felt so audible, so real. The next, it was all drowned out. Noises came from Anthony’s direction as he raged, sputtered, died, but Verity was too far underwater to clearly hear any of it. The pellets from the blast had gone through him, into her, but the pain felt dull, muted, secondhand, like it was some sort of memory instead of something in the moment. Her mind raced, thought after thought after thought after thought, but they didn’t stay still, in her head one moment, floating away the next. Her hands had been pushing, working the harpoon out of her body, but she hadn’t realized that she’d been doing that until it was out completely, until Anthony’s weight left hers, until his corpse flopped onto the floor.
She’d looked down — tried to search for any sign that this was truly over — but in the corner of the eye she saw something and looked down and saw-
A big gash, where the harpoon had entered her stomach, now open, free to pool more blood over her t-shirt.
Lots of- lots of smaller holes, in her chest. Little- what were they? The stuff the shotgun shot. Anthony hadn’t been much of a shield after all.
She tried to breathe.
She tried to breathe.
And then her body coughed to remove whatever was building in her lungs and… and that blood splatter hadn’t been on Anthony before.
Shit. Maybe- maybe trying to hold Anthony down hadn’t been the best plan after all. Maybe she should’ve thought up a better plan. So much for trying to get out of here alive. She was too fickle for her own good. A creature ruled by her impulses, from birth to grave.
Shit.
She took a step, and she didn’t know what specifically — the corpse, the ocean, the holes in her body — caused her to stumble. She took another, and she had to stop herself from coughing, had to tell herself she could do basic shit without making her body die a little harder. She took another step, another step, another. Didn’t know where she was going, didn’t know what the point of it was, now, but…
…but she didn’t look back at Olivia, as she walked into the smoke. As she went out of the circle. As she dropped out of sight.
She’d looked down — tried to search for any sign that this was truly over — but in the corner of the eye she saw something and looked down and saw-
A big gash, where the harpoon had entered her stomach, now open, free to pool more blood over her t-shirt.
Lots of- lots of smaller holes, in her chest. Little- what were they? The stuff the shotgun shot. Anthony hadn’t been much of a shield after all.
She tried to breathe.
She tried to breathe.
And then her body coughed to remove whatever was building in her lungs and… and that blood splatter hadn’t been on Anthony before.
Shit. Maybe- maybe trying to hold Anthony down hadn’t been the best plan after all. Maybe she should’ve thought up a better plan. So much for trying to get out of here alive. She was too fickle for her own good. A creature ruled by her impulses, from birth to grave.
Shit.
She took a step, and she didn’t know what specifically — the corpse, the ocean, the holes in her body — caused her to stumble. She took another, and she had to stop herself from coughing, had to tell herself she could do basic shit without making her body die a little harder. She took another step, another step, another. Didn’t know where she was going, didn’t know what the point of it was, now, but…
…but she didn’t look back at Olivia, as she walked into the smoke. As she went out of the circle. As she dropped out of sight.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Olivia stared at the heap of blood and skin and hate that used to call itself Anthony Golden with the beginnings of tears in her eyes.
She hadn't even felt herself fire. Her fingers quivered like half-dried worms. The gun slipped from her grasp and knelt at her side.
She mouthed the word bitch, like the mentor-voice had done.
She hadn't even felt herself fire. Her fingers quivered like half-dried worms. The gun slipped from her grasp and knelt at her side.
She mouthed the word bitch, like the mentor-voice had done.
“What are your thoughts?”
“On ES12?”
Raiza looked up from the screen, her eyes flickering between the growing puddle of blood and her coworker-turned-potential-boss Marisa. Raiza replied with a huff and a puff from her vape.
“Yeah. Me too,” Marisa leaned in on the screen, way too close for her eyes’ health. She looked around the screen, trying to gauge something. The buzzing of the office - that wasn’t really an office and more a room inside of a boat - was like a flurry of bees noticing a wasp within their hive.
The faces of the Endgamers were on the screen - with SB06, JL09, BC04 having been crossed out. Ivan was a solid maybe. Marisa drummed her fingers on the keyboard, entering a function for the camera. After SB07 and CK05 being released from the game, the crew had been informed that there wouldn’t be any more escapees. It was said exactly like that in the email.
It had made the EMT Team and the Trauma and Injury Analyst’s jobs easier. The EMT simply had to wait - but nobody actually only did EMT work. Most people on the EMT work - except for Jeff who was part-time - had two hats within the organization. EMTs worked in the Trauma and Injury Analyst team. EMT handled making sure the cast that had been released would survive, and the TIA would record and review the physical conditions of the participants. People at the top wanted to know if someone would die from an injury before it happened.
Something about editing, or marketing, or gambling, or whatever.
In her case, Raiza had three hats. She was supposed to keep track of Marisa. The leader of the EMT team was retiring at 39 - which he hadn’t announced publicly. The medical supervisor had approached Raiza for the position, and she had promptly refused. Leadership and handling people below her in an organization sounded like a headache, especially in this field. In a hospital, she could probably have done it. But here? Raiza knew that she could be toppled by someone who wanted to take her place, and having seen it in action, she didn’t want to put herself in the mire of a potential fame seeker.
That’s where Marisa came in: winner, already solidified within the public sphere, and most importantly, marketable. Being the leader of the EMT team meant that you would have to show up in front of an audience, be recorded, and address the world about the state of the released students. Sometimes, it’s good like someone coming out of a coma. Sometimes, it was bad like someone dying in surgery. Either way, the message was way more digestible if the person saying it was pretty.
And Marisa was gorgeous.
With that in mind, Raiza suggested her for the position. It would be a strange pick because Marisa was young. But that only meant she could be the EMT leader for longer, and meant that she could probably be used to market certain things. This could be used to renew interest in older versions in the way of ‘Where Are They Now’ documentary. If Marisa could become the poster child of released students being profitable for the company by the content they produced after their season, then it could mean new avenues for SOTF-TV.
Her boss told her to keep track of Marisa. Raiza agreed. It was simple, really. Marisa was easy on the eyes, and despite her shrill voice, she managed to say things of value at least 60% of the time. The number went up when she was at work.
“ES11 is fine. Let’s hope she’s the one released.” Raiza said, testing the waters. Marisa shook her head in response.
“You know you can’t say that.” Marisa quipped back. “If I can’t say ‘I want all of them to go home’, then you can’t say ‘I hope this one does’.”
She looked back at Raiza. “It’s only fair.”
Another box checked. Raiza didn’t care if it was hypocritical - it was good enough if she maintained this image in public. The CEO would be glad.
“Anyways, Verity’s being followed by Team C, but do you think she’ll make it?”
Marisa didn’t exactly reply. “If I had to rate the severity of the injuries of the current participants, it’d be Olivia, Ivan and then Verity. Olivia, if she doesn’t hurt, could probably go home this week. Ivan would need long term rehabilitation - I think we’d need to amputate his leg. But Verity? The way she’s injured? I would say medically-induced coma.”
She continued after putting her finger on the microphone’s red button. “Are the collars still malfunctioning?”
There was a response in the form of a buzz. “Collar technicians don’t have an answer. They suspect the flaw is messing with the transmitting of the vitals.” Marisa responded with a ‘thank you’ and then sighed.
Ivan had moved. Olivia had picked him up, one arm wrapped around him. His shot leg moved around like a dangling tooth, and Raiza made a face.
“I hope we aren’t red taped out of the area.” Marisa sighed. “‘Cuz if we don’t have the machine to tell us if someone’s dead or alive, then, you know…”
Raiza made a face. It happened a couple of seasons ago. The winner was the last girl standing - but they couldn’t enter the arena to evacuate her. The signals were blocked and the kill shot on the second place wasn’t definitive like a brain being blown out. So they had to wait until someone without any knowledge of medicine would say ‘go’.
That resulted with the girl only coming out of her coma recently.
Those couple of minutes - no, seconds - had been priceless.
“Whatever, let’s just hope we get a clean elimination.”
Ivan clung to Olivia.
“On ES12?”
Raiza looked up from the screen, her eyes flickering between the growing puddle of blood and her coworker-turned-potential-boss Marisa. Raiza replied with a huff and a puff from her vape.
“Yeah. Me too,” Marisa leaned in on the screen, way too close for her eyes’ health. She looked around the screen, trying to gauge something. The buzzing of the office - that wasn’t really an office and more a room inside of a boat - was like a flurry of bees noticing a wasp within their hive.
The faces of the Endgamers were on the screen - with SB06, JL09, BC04 having been crossed out. Ivan was a solid maybe. Marisa drummed her fingers on the keyboard, entering a function for the camera. After SB07 and CK05 being released from the game, the crew had been informed that there wouldn’t be any more escapees. It was said exactly like that in the email.
It had made the EMT Team and the Trauma and Injury Analyst’s jobs easier. The EMT simply had to wait - but nobody actually only did EMT work. Most people on the EMT work - except for Jeff who was part-time - had two hats within the organization. EMTs worked in the Trauma and Injury Analyst team. EMT handled making sure the cast that had been released would survive, and the TIA would record and review the physical conditions of the participants. People at the top wanted to know if someone would die from an injury before it happened.
Something about editing, or marketing, or gambling, or whatever.
In her case, Raiza had three hats. She was supposed to keep track of Marisa. The leader of the EMT team was retiring at 39 - which he hadn’t announced publicly. The medical supervisor had approached Raiza for the position, and she had promptly refused. Leadership and handling people below her in an organization sounded like a headache, especially in this field. In a hospital, she could probably have done it. But here? Raiza knew that she could be toppled by someone who wanted to take her place, and having seen it in action, she didn’t want to put herself in the mire of a potential fame seeker.
That’s where Marisa came in: winner, already solidified within the public sphere, and most importantly, marketable. Being the leader of the EMT team meant that you would have to show up in front of an audience, be recorded, and address the world about the state of the released students. Sometimes, it’s good like someone coming out of a coma. Sometimes, it was bad like someone dying in surgery. Either way, the message was way more digestible if the person saying it was pretty.
And Marisa was gorgeous.
With that in mind, Raiza suggested her for the position. It would be a strange pick because Marisa was young. But that only meant she could be the EMT leader for longer, and meant that she could probably be used to market certain things. This could be used to renew interest in older versions in the way of ‘Where Are They Now’ documentary. If Marisa could become the poster child of released students being profitable for the company by the content they produced after their season, then it could mean new avenues for SOTF-TV.
Her boss told her to keep track of Marisa. Raiza agreed. It was simple, really. Marisa was easy on the eyes, and despite her shrill voice, she managed to say things of value at least 60% of the time. The number went up when she was at work.
“ES11 is fine. Let’s hope she’s the one released.” Raiza said, testing the waters. Marisa shook her head in response.
“You know you can’t say that.” Marisa quipped back. “If I can’t say ‘I want all of them to go home’, then you can’t say ‘I hope this one does’.”
She looked back at Raiza. “It’s only fair.”
Another box checked. Raiza didn’t care if it was hypocritical - it was good enough if she maintained this image in public. The CEO would be glad.
“Anyways, Verity’s being followed by Team C, but do you think she’ll make it?”
Marisa didn’t exactly reply. “If I had to rate the severity of the injuries of the current participants, it’d be Olivia, Ivan and then Verity. Olivia, if she doesn’t hurt, could probably go home this week. Ivan would need long term rehabilitation - I think we’d need to amputate his leg. But Verity? The way she’s injured? I would say medically-induced coma.”
She continued after putting her finger on the microphone’s red button. “Are the collars still malfunctioning?”
There was a response in the form of a buzz. “Collar technicians don’t have an answer. They suspect the flaw is messing with the transmitting of the vitals.” Marisa responded with a ‘thank you’ and then sighed.
Ivan had moved. Olivia had picked him up, one arm wrapped around him. His shot leg moved around like a dangling tooth, and Raiza made a face.
“I hope we aren’t red taped out of the area.” Marisa sighed. “‘Cuz if we don’t have the machine to tell us if someone’s dead or alive, then, you know…”
Raiza made a face. It happened a couple of seasons ago. The winner was the last girl standing - but they couldn’t enter the arena to evacuate her. The signals were blocked and the kill shot on the second place wasn’t definitive like a brain being blown out. So they had to wait until someone without any knowledge of medicine would say ‘go’.
That resulted with the girl only coming out of her coma recently.
Those couple of minutes - no, seconds - had been priceless.
“Whatever, let’s just hope we get a clean elimination.”
Ivan clung to Olivia.
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carduinal-cyn
- Posts: 324
- Joined: Sun Oct 11, 2020 5:56 pm
- Team Affiliation: Emmy's Selkies
Olivia watched the smoke roll in.
Standing as close to steadfast as a girl with scratched-up legs and a bullet hole in her shoulder could manage, she was a suitable anchor for Ivan to steady himself. Their guns remained on the floor, discarded: loyal old guard dogs who deserved a rest.
The would-be American Psycho and the modern-day Crusader were nothing but bitter memories now. Verity had become one with the smoke. Kaya was probably off in Heaven somewhere. And as for Chris... well, it'd be difficult for a pair of battered-up, bruised Selkies to take on a fellow athlete. Liv wasn't looking forward to any final confrontation. No, right now, all she wanted was peace and quiet. She listed gently to one side; her head rested against Ivan's wounded frame to keep him propped up for a few more minutes.
Alas, peace never lasted long aboard this vessel. Olivia's eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she noticed a grisly hole in her peripheral vision. It looked like someone had practically blown Ivan's leg clean off, with it barely hanging by on scraps of gristle... the sight was nearly enough to make her woozy.
Ziiiiiiiip.
Her faithful yellow-orange hoodie would make a perfect tourniquet! ...Or, at least, the next-best thing, until they could search the scattered chaos of the cruise ship for any stray first-aid kits or fallen daypacks.
Olivia remembered a stray line from a foul English tongue. Boyfriend, he'd called Ivan. A pang of embarrassment hit her between the eyes.
God, she hoped the audience didn't see it that way...
Standing as close to steadfast as a girl with scratched-up legs and a bullet hole in her shoulder could manage, she was a suitable anchor for Ivan to steady himself. Their guns remained on the floor, discarded: loyal old guard dogs who deserved a rest.
The would-be American Psycho and the modern-day Crusader were nothing but bitter memories now. Verity had become one with the smoke. Kaya was probably off in Heaven somewhere. And as for Chris... well, it'd be difficult for a pair of battered-up, bruised Selkies to take on a fellow athlete. Liv wasn't looking forward to any final confrontation. No, right now, all she wanted was peace and quiet. She listed gently to one side; her head rested against Ivan's wounded frame to keep him propped up for a few more minutes.
Alas, peace never lasted long aboard this vessel. Olivia's eyes nearly bulged out of her head when she noticed a grisly hole in her peripheral vision. It looked like someone had practically blown Ivan's leg clean off, with it barely hanging by on scraps of gristle... the sight was nearly enough to make her woozy.
Ziiiiiiiip.
Her faithful yellow-orange hoodie would make a perfect tourniquet! ...Or, at least, the next-best thing, until they could search the scattered chaos of the cruise ship for any stray first-aid kits or fallen daypacks.
Olivia remembered a stray line from a foul English tongue. Boyfriend, he'd called Ivan. A pang of embarrassment hit her between the eyes.
God, she hoped the audience didn't see it that way...