Sayonara is Japanese for go die.

[NoLife42069]

Ángel had hoped that the momentum of the gun was fast enough that his attacker couldn't grab it, clearly, that had been wishful thinking.

The sword was flying their way again, his attacker desperately gunning for his gun. Yu-Mi screamed to get their attacker's attention, and fear flooded his system. He wanted to yell at her, scream at her for being so stupid as to take the agro, cry, and beg for her not to because he couldn't lose another friend.

But Ángel didn't do any of those things, he didn't yell, he didn't scream, he didn't cry. No, the blade embedded itself into the wall. Their attacker grabbed the gun. Ángel surged forward, abandoning the crowbar as his hand enveloped the hilt. Ángel pulled with everything he had, even as his arm burned and screamed in prote-

Like a thunder strike, the shot made Ángel see red. Ángel screamed, the sword came free. He could barely think, as he kicked off the wall full force to the bastard that had dared attack them. Blade ready, poised to strike and hurt and kill. If he had control of his faculties he would be worried, afraid actually to kill them. But the Terror and the frothing rage had ceased their war for dominance over the other, instead coming together, fusing into madness. Bloodlust.

[Yonagoda]

Normally speaking, the body takes a while to die. This wasn't the case- one moment, his brain was working, and the next, it was fried.

Of course, there was a momnt of limbo in-between, then the avatar of the body shut down, bit by bit- the machine calculating the amount of blood left in his body, cross-referencing to real-life medical texts in an algorithm to sort between the living and the dead. Artificial, raw still burnt. He felt every moment of it.

There was no time to think, to contemplate, to say anything.

The body in the hospital bed spasmed a bit, and then stopped.

(...)

[almostinhuman]

Dusk had no sooner reset their aim than a fearsome bellow roared from behind. They had just enough time to whirl in place as Ángel slammed into them, swordpoint first.

Oh.

...

Paris was wide-eyed, hanging limply there in shock. The gun fell from their hand and floated away. A terrible agony screamed at them from their chest, louder and louder. Their limbs felt suddenly weak. This...

They needed to get away. Now.

"J-j... jump."

They were now at the door of the planetarium. So was Ángel. So was the sword they were impaled on. All three collapsed through the doorway to the floor outside, Paris on top of Ángel, the blade pushing itself deeper into them.

They wanted to scream, in rage and terror and agony. They wanted to get back up and kill Ángel for what they'd done. They no longer had it in them to do either.

Paris tried, weakly, to life themselves off of the blade. Then their arms gave out. Their heart was soon to follow.

Paris Lowery - Deceased

[apocalypseyuri]

Paris’ bullet grazed her leg, not enough to do any direct fatal damage, but enough to bleed and hurt. She winced, and her heart pounded–would that speed up how fast she bled out? Yu-Mi didn’t know, despite how much of her life had been spent in a hospital. Like right now, for example.

(not even real–)

It was all so very loud. If she died here, at least she would not go quietly. (Although that wasn’t true was it, she’d pass away without a sound in reality, or whatever you call it) Instinctively, for only a second, Yu-Mi shut her eyes.

When she opened them again, it was over. Paris, Ángel, and the sword between them were at the door to the planetarium. It was quiet. Cold water flowed in Yu-Mi’s veins; a refreshing feeling, comparatively. Silently, she floated over to Ángel, gathering up Paris’ gun as she went. She took a quick moment to shove both of her guns haphazardly into her bag. When Yu-Mi reached the dying Paris, she kicked him off of Ángel, then reached down and yanked the sword out of him. Its blade was absolutely drenched with blood and a few lingering pink bits. (Sure felt real.) She offered Ángel her hand. “You can have the sword. I guess it’s your prize, along with whatever else he has.”

“Don’t, like…feel bad or anything. He deserved that for killing Cee and Zorin. Everyone who kills someone with no reason other than to just play into what those freaks want, they deserve it. We’re just–we just…mopped him up.”

Of course, Yu-Mi was no such pawn. She wasn’t killing for any other reason than justice. Since when did you care so much about such a thing, enough to kill? Since my girlfriend died, shut up–

“Sorry for not helping you out that much. I’ll help you more next time. I got grazed by a bullet, but I’ll be fine once I patch it up, I think.”

*One more down; one body closer to me getting out of here.* She didn’t like those thoughts. She shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts. But--but!--those thoughts weren’t “real.” They were glitches in her neurons caused by this place. So it wasn’t here. It was everything around here. They would go away. It would all go away.

“...it was cool, what you did.” In horror movies, when the villain died a gruesome death, you were supposed to cheer, weren’t you?

I’ll avenge you for sure. She could be talking to a lot of people, now. The red flower opened wide as a wound. (Bloodlust?)

[NoLife42069]

Metal pierced skin, then pierced meat, deeper and deeper. His victim uttered their last words, a broken 'jump'.

And then they were somewhere else, Ángel's back hit the ground but his grip remained strong. The blade went deeper, red coating the black. They... Paris... Their name was Paris. Paris tried to get up, failed, and their body gave out.

And then they stopped moving.

Ángel ran into the kitchen, upset. Age 6, when he was upset from school he would go to his mother for comfort.

"I hate Jessica!" Ángel screamed as he hugged his mother's leg. Earlier that day Jessica, Ángel's best friend, had told him that it was weird to be so invested in things. Child indignance flooded him, which led to a long and harsh argument, of course it wasn't truly that bad but too little Ángel it was one of the first real arguments he had.

"Now, Angel, don't say that! Hate is a strong word." Isabelle gently chided her son. "When you hate someone, that means that you never want to see them again. Now do you still hate Jessica?"

Ángel looked down to avoid his eyes from his mother. "No..." Ángel still liked Jessica, he was just upset.

Isabelle nodded. "Then don't say you hate her, dear. Try to make up with her tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, mom!"

Ángel hated Paris. He HATED him, with every cell in his body and every pixel in his virtual one. So blinded by hate, he was frozen. Stuck staring up into the person he hated. Hated so much he wished he had killed his real body. He hated so much, hated that he couldn't kill Paris himself, hated that Paris made him kill him in the first place.

The body was kicked off him and yet he still didn't move, didn't even blink as he stared enraged at the ceiling. He didn't hear the voice; all he could hear was the ringing in his ears and the thump of his heart.

And then a hand was in front of him. His eyes refocused if only for a moment. Yu-Mi was alive, you would be forgiven for thinking he was having a religious experience. A tear ran down his eye, he thought she had died. Ángel remained silent as he grabbed her arm to lift himself and pulled her into a hug. He softly and silently wept.

[apocalypseyuri]

Yu-Mi gasped slightly when she was pulled into a hug. She hadn’t been expecting that. Nervously, she patted Ángel’s back. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re both alive. Are you hurt?”

When they separated, Yu-Mi leaned against the wall of the doorway, wincing. “Gimme a sec.” Now that the adrenaline was fading, her wound was starting to hurt–really, really hurt. She rooted through her bag, around the guns, to painstakingly pull out the first aid kit. Since she had never, you know, been shot before, she didn’t know exactly what to do, but since the bullet hadn’t hit her full force it was probably just like a really deep, really painful cut. Hopefully.

Yu-Mi rolled up her tattered pant leg and squinted at the wound. “Do you, like, see if any fabric got into it?”

[NoLife42069]

She was right... They were both alive. "Besides the a-arm... I'm fine." They separated, but Ángel's emotions still felt frayed. He almost died, Yu-Mi almost died, someone did die, he killed someone. There was a lot to process.

Ángel swayed on shaking legs before he decided to just sit on the floor. Yu-Mi spoke and he only barely deciphered it from the ringing in his ears. "What?" Ángel crawled over to Yu-Mi to examine the wound. Fabric? No, fabric wasn't important. What was important was if the bullet was still inside... Or... Did that actually even matter? You removed the bullet for like... There was no long-term here, everything was finite. You could lose an arm, both eyes, and an ear and your body would remain completely fine. The only real threat was death.

Ángel looked and shook his head. "No fabric... We do need to see if the bullet is still lodged in or not... I doubt it, however." Ángel moved away and went to looting. He wanted out of here yesterday, and the faster everything useful was stripped the faster he could do just that. After quickly checking a bag and a little reading, the wearable teleporter was his. Which he quickly used to bring grab his and Cee's stuff. "Jump?"

Everything there He looked up at Yu-Mi. "Would you prefer to bandage up here or Somewhere else? I want you to know I'm really leaning towards the latter..."