Bottom of the sea's the top of another world

[Pippi]

((Kay Poultier continued from Personal Risk Tolerance))

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"Good morning Participants…



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“... Austin Stanton made a valiant effort to fight off the Chimera… that maxim was demonstrated via backblast… the Chimera, which found in him a well-tenderized snack."



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P24 Austin Stanton - Dismembered by X00 Chimera.



“Fuck, okay… okay.”

Kay let out a deep, shuddering sigh, one that turned into a yawn midway through. She lowered her wrist, hand falling down into her lap, and then a step further to the right, slipping off her thigh and onto the grimy blankets strewn across the bunk she was sitting on. She was silent for a moment, a long, long moment that stretched out for an impossible duration. Then, to nobody at all, not even really to herself, she opened her mouth once again.

“This still fucking sucks.”

Not exactly a profound statement, no. Nor was it particularly specific or meaningful, and it sure as hell wasn’t an original thing to point out while you were in true mortal peril. She figured she was due a break though; she had barely slept a wink the previous night. Lucid thoughts were hard to come by right this moment. She was never able to get comfy, the first night in an unfamiliar bed, and this one was up there with the worst she’d had the misfortune of sleeping in. Thin sheets, hard mattress, mildew and dust from years of neglect creeping up the side of the bedding. The entire thing was too small for her, making her feet hang off the edge, and her head flood with hatred for her height and her size, wishing for the hundredth time that she couldn’t have just been created a little more average, could she?

It was also, of course, a struggle to get any form of meaningful rest when images of Austin’s shredded, mangled body had taken up permanent residency in her mind. And when she couldn’t fucking stop herself from allowing the blame to fall squarely onto her shoulders.

Nobody knew what she had done, or rather hadn’t done. The announcement on her bracelet hadn’t mentioned her at all, neither in voice or text form; presumably (oh god she hoped she was presuming up the right tree) the same was true for everyone else’s message. Nobody had seen herself and Austin together at any point; they hadn’t spotted another human on their way down to the village, and she really highly doubted there were many other folks foolhardy enough to walk towards the horrific polar bear monster. The freaks running this show had obviously been watching her this whole time, sure, but she highly doubted they gave a damn when it came to her plan of inaction. Sides, she didn’t exactly think they had much in the way of humanity left inside of them, so she wasn’t exactly counting their thoughts and opinions on the matter.

But that just left her, Kay Poultier, in the flesh. And she sure as hell knew what had happened in that one blood soaked room.

It was pretty easy to make excuses for yourself. You could absolve yourself from all blame for anything and everything, if you were willing to bend over backwards a little, point fingers, twist the truth to your own benefit. She’d met prats who had gone through their entire life under that principle, and the only thing more insufferable than the shit they spewed was how it came as naturally as breathing to them. But by God, she wished that she could be living under that sorta delusion right now.

She pushed herself up and off of the bed, groaning slightly with the exertion of movement, legs unsteady thanks to cramp and exhaustion. She just wanted to shake herself up a little, get herself moving in both body and mind, even though she knew there wasn’t a snowball’s chance it’d work. As expected, the point of impact never once left the front of her mind for even a second, self loathing and disgust repeating itself over and over and over. She could tell herself any number of excuses, that if the chimera had been charging towards her, then she wouldn’t have hesitated for a second to burn it to a crisp - and hell, maybe she was right, maybe that was true. It didn’t stop the fact that she had watched another person die horribly, a friend no less, and she hadn’t lifted a finger to stop it happening. She’d taken his stuff, and run for the hills. She’d made absolutely certain that nobody would ever catch the scent of her involvement at the scene of the crime.

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”You’d do it again, wouldn’t you?”

She would.

“You’ll hate yourself for it afterwards, truly and earnestly despise your actions, but you’ll do anything to keep yourself alive, won’t you?”

She would.

“No matter how low?”

Yes.

”For as long as it takes?”

…

God, she loathed the part of her that was relieved that she’d done it. That would urge her to do it again if the time came. That comprised so much more of herself than she wanted to ever admit.

She was still alive though. She was still herself. She felt a little bit more like a monster, but she was still, and she had to be still, Kay goddamn Poultier.

Coward. Absolute despicable coward. Where had all that earlier bravado gone? Such bold claims. The ‘dragon slaying Welsh’? Saint David she was not, for so many goddamn reasons. She was afraid, and she was selfish, and she was proud of it. How could she dare to say that she could survive even one more day out here?

Well. Because she had two paths in front of her. Either she could let any last trace of self-respect and bravery sink into the quagmire of disgust at herself, to keep on keeping on, and to lose all faith and hope. ‘The weapons don’t actually work properly. They’ll backfire as soon as you try to use them, and the monsters will rip you apart. Not that you’ll ever actually make any sort of attempt to stop them. You’d quicker put a bullet in your best friend’s heart than that of the beasts hunting you.’

No. Keep that all for late night vent posts, swiftly deleted without a trace. That path led only to giving up, lying down, waiting for something to claim her; snow or monster, whichever moved faster.

So that just led the other path. The one that suggested, that hinted to her, that maybe there was a slim crack light in the darkness, that there was hope for a way to survive. That her previous hunch had been correct; that the Janus Hayes cunts had given them these ballistic missiles and mortar launchers and goddamn airstrikes and what-have-you because they were intended to have a fighting chance. Maybe when it wasn’t her own life on the line, her body physically couldn’t break through the terror to retaliate. That didn’t mean that she was about to go capping people left, right, and center. She was a coward. Not a murderer.

Still. Was there a difference? That lingering doubt had been put to one side for a moment, but it was doing its damnedest to start crawling back in anyway. Even so, she felt as though there was a difference. But she sure as hell couldn’t explain why. That was in the realms of philosophy, and that was way way above Kay’s paygrade. Her heart was tied to the sea; she understood the depths of the oceans. Humans were a lot more messy.

God, the sea. They were by the coast, weren’t they? She was being a complete tit. What better place to find some sort of balance and to stop herself from getting caught up inside of her own head than the only place that had ever truly understood her? She couldn’t leave this building sooner; the stench of vomit lingered in the air. Blood tracked across the floorboards. Her own self righteous pity, directed inwards, clung to every surface like cobwebs.

She had a flamethrower. She had a rocket launcher. She had a goal she couldn’t afford to fail at reaching. Man or beast, no matter what came at her, she would be ready.

She had to be. She’d force herself to be until it was true.

((Kay Poultier continued in I see a ship in the harbour))