CTRL ALT DEL (closed)

[amoral_savior]

Who| Topher, Aunamee, and Punchy
What| Topher's first death
Where| Tomorrowland
When| Week Three
Warnings/Notes| Death :c



Topher wiped his face with a frown. He was no closer to creating anything even resembling a remote wipe in this place. Kicking aside his bedroll he headed out for a bit of needed air and much more needed food.

Think Topher, think. There was a reason he was a genius and got all the big bucks and fancy computers. If one of Alpha's genius' could create the tech with scraps then so could the guy who actually, you know, created some of that tech. He could out genius any genius, but it was hard to think on a stomach lacking the proper food groups like gummy worms and peanut butter cups.

"Mmm, beer. And barbecue chips. And pizza with olives and pineapple." He palmed the tiny tin of caviar he had gotten some time ago before pulling his hand out his pocket and grabbing a bit of fruit from a tree. Staring at the red fruit he asked, "If I wish really hard will you please turn into a juice box with extra fructose goodness?"

Comments

[marcato]

Aunamee couldn't stay in Fantasyland.

That was what his mind told him, and he knew better than to ignore his mind. Those little neural nudges had spared him from death a thousand times over. They forged his plans. They let him climb success like a ladder. He did not bother digging into the premonitions any deeper. If he stayed there, he would die and he did not intend to die. That was that.

Stepping out of Fantasyland meant stepping into mortality, into uncertainty and the unknown. He came more prepared this time. While his powers were at their full strength, he ate food even though he didn't need to. He drank water even though he didn't need to. He slept. When he finally left, he was far from the walking corpse he had been in the last arena. He was well-fed, strong. But he was also terrified. Every noise was a potential threat. He jerked. He hid. When he was alone in the darkness, he bit his lip hard enough to bleed.

Topher did not frighten him.

He watched him for a long time behind the rubble, studying his movements, his habits, his tics. He looked weak, scraggly, small. And he didn't have a weapon. Aunamee gently tossed his spear from one hand to the other as he finally approached. He liked this, as far as weapons went. It reminded him of a scythe.

[nunpunching]

Punchy comes back to where Topher's working. He's been out collecting parts and trying to see if the sugary insides of an old gumball machine are edible (they aren't, and Punchy's now missing a tooth on one side). He and Topher haven't necessarily been working together, per se, but he's been keeping an eye on the other techie. Punchy doesn't like admitting he can't do everything on his own, but Topher does know things he doesn't.

"Yo, Tophs, I found us some..." Punchy's got another one of those chips from the weird little posts out on Main Street. He's also got a handful of blackberries, which, if he closes his eyes, are almost as satisfying as fruit gummies (not really). But he stops, because he sees someone else, with a spear. He instinctively starts to move to put himself between the stranger and Topher, whom he's deemed 'civilian' and thus deserving of protection.

He sounds casual as he addresses Aunamee. "Hey, dawg, you lost or something?"

[amoral_savior]

The juicy fruit did not in fact turn into a yummy juice box, but that didn't stop Topher from munching down on it while he filled his bag with enough produce to keep him and Punchy going for a while. The shout from Punchy has him turning around to see what the kid had found; while still not the brightest crayon in the box he was handy to have around and it was nice to have company. Not that Topher would admit it. Ever.

Spying the visitor, he pulls the backpack on just in case they need to run. "What my rowdy friend is really asking in a less than polite manner is if you need the food. Plenty to go around, so we'll just pop on out and let you have at it."

[marcato]

Aunamee's eyes flicker towards Punchy, then Topher. Punchy, then Topher. It brings fear, the thought that there was one person he missed, one issue for which he did not account. This one is a child, an injured child, but it still doesn't calm the maddening thump thump thump within his chest. But he can use this. He can use the fear to make him look trustworthy, non-threatening. He relaxes his grip on the spear, letting it slide down and rest on the ground in front of him. He channels anxiety into his face. He lets his eyebrows knot, lets his mouth gape and suck in tiny breaths.

"Lost," he echoes. "As though I had somewhere to go."

He steps forward, slower now, the spear still dragging against the ground. It makes a thin line in the grimy concrete. These Tributes, oh, he does not recognize them. This means that they won't recognize him.

He stops. Squints his eyes.

"Is that a garden?"

[nunpunching]

"I ain't rowdy," Punchy says, sounding almost hurt. He frowns a bit and picks at a healing injury on his arm, repeating that again more quietly. "I ain't rowdy."

But Punchy's not scared, really. He's probably the most fit of the three of them (it's a bit hard to tell with Aunamee's clothing on, but Punchy bets Topher's more used to pressing keys than benches). The weapon is down. Aunamee's voice is lost and kind, and he looks scared. It appeals to every drop of 'protect the civvy' in Punchy's blood, of which there are many.

And yet that niggling voice is in his mind. He's supposed to be the hero. He works so hard at being the hero. So why can't he save everyone?

What's he missing?

"Not a garden, really. Just some patch we been grabbing eats off of. Don't get all hyped up or shit, we're friendly. Everyone's a homie here."

[amoral_savior]

Topher brushes Punchy's words off with a wave. "Just a comment, Punch." His eyes stayed on the new arrival. Grouping was good. Normally Topher hated the whole social interaction, but this was far from normal circumstances and he was all about safety in numbers especially with Alpha running around.

There was no word of caution in his head even though he really should use a more cautious approach to strangers. Wiping off his dusty hands Topher steps forward and holds out a hand. "Topher and my not-rowdy friend is Punchy. Our garden is your garden."

[marcato]

He thought about taking the out. He could walk away right now, and no one would complain, no one would frown. The spectators knew he wasn't a coward. That grand audience, they had seen what he did to the last man who crossed his path. They had seen him kick and punch and torture the deserving. They had seen him spare the innocent. They had seen him choose his battles.

But the outstretched hand. Oh, the outstretched hand. It was practically a gift. It was wrapped up in sparkling silver wrapping paper and it had a big red now. The note on it said, please take my life. Who was Aunamee to deny it?

He took the hand, his touch gentle until suddenly it wasn't, until suddenly his fingers were digging into the soft flesh of his wrist. Aunamee tugged him forward and brought the spear up with his other hand. The point was aimed for his stomach.

[nunpunching]

Maybe if Punchy didn't already let his guard down, he'd react faster to Aunamee's sudden gesture. But it blindsides him. He moves without realizing, throwing himself to tackle Aunamee, to knock the spear aside, as the truth sinks in; they've made a mistake. They've made a terrible, terrible mistake.

He's the passenger in a car that's gone off the road. He's standing on an elevator as it starts to fall. He's underwater, fifty feet from the surface.

This has already happened. There is nothing he can do but wait for impact.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't fling himself at the spear in the hopes that the tip doesn't sink into Topher's soft guts.

[amoral_savior]

Topher reacts slower than he always imagined he would if facing down death. Oh, who is he kidding, he never imagined himself having to face this moment against anyone but Alpha because who would want to kill him? Okay, he didn't want to go through that list but apparently he needed to add perfect strangers to it.

The spear pierces his stomach and it doesn't hurt as much as one would think, but maybe that the shock talking because he is in shock. He falls backwards clutching his stomach. There's blood. It's warm and wet and he decidedly does not want to look at it because he'll probably vomit up what little blood is actually still in his body. The sounds of Punchy and the stranger fighter falls to the wayside as he stares up at the fruit trees. He knows that a wound to the stomach is one of the worst ways to die. It takes too long to bleed out even as stomach acids poison his blood. So long that it can give someone hope that they'll be okay.

He'll be okay because his man Punchy is here and he's a superhero back home or something, which means Punchy totally knows how to save the day.

Except this isn't a comic and Topher is really starting to hurt. He feels like crying but doesn't realize he already is. Funny how the body just reacts all on its own. Basic instincts just can't be reprogrammed. He thinks about the last self-scan he performed at the House and how he thought that had been the most painful thing he'd ever have to go through. Wrong. He wonders if he should have sneaked in an upgrade just in case. And maybe shut off his pain receptors too because this really hurts. He wonders if Alpha will find his body and then mentally kicks himself because he still hasn't told Punchy about the madman.

"P-punch. Punchy I have to tell you...you have to know..."

[marcato]

He tears the spear out of Topher’s gut, and the sound it makes is wet and human and alive. What a marvel we are, Aunamee thinks, and the energy catches in his fingertips, dances in his arms, pounds in his neck. When Punchy throws himself towards the spear, he brings it up and attempts to hold him back with the length of it. He doesn’t mind so much, that this one is fighting back. At least not now. The way his heart is pounding (it has been way too long since a kill, way, way too long), he feels stronger than ever.

Invincible.

[nunpunching]

Invincible in spirit, perhaps, but not in body. Punchy's fist comes at Aunamee's sternum, hard enough to break bone with a direct hit. "Get off of him!"

He sees Topher fall back. He sees the violence, the spear coming back from Topher's stomach like a dipstick of oil, only instead of fueling cars the slick fluid pumps the human body. He feels as his side collides with the spear and knocks it away as it comes back too slow to block his attack on Aunamee. His foot slams outwards at Aunamee's ankle, reacting with combat training and muscle memory rather than any planned assault.

He has to get Topher out of here. He twists backwards, scooping Topher up off the ground, stumbling as he runs away with him. Topher's saying something, but Punchy doesn't hear it, not yet. He just hopes he's slowed Aunamee down enough that he can get Topher away.

[amoral_savior]

It hurt. It hurt a lot and being bounced around in Punchy's arms didn't help the pain go away. His hands pressed down on the wound and tried to muffle his groan.

Wasn't there something he meant to tell Punchy?

He couldn't think. There's a moment where his eyes roll into the back of his head and everything turns black then white again as he quickly returns to consciousness. He knows what's happening. The science of dying is familiar but it's not one he was quite so ready to personally experience. He's tired and in pain and all he really wants to do is go home.

[marcato]

Snap. Crack.

Aunamee feels something give inside his chest, inside his ankle. His leg crumples and his body follows, one hand fumbling (and failing) to grab onto Punchy and the other tight around the spear. He uses the long length of it to catch himself before he collapses completely, like a walking stick, like a crutch. His thunderous pulse goes on and on and on, but now it twists his stomach and boxes his ears and makes his neck feel like a writhing snake. After all of these months, there is a part of Aunamee that cannot comprehend losing. There is a part of him that never expects it.

"It's crueler to keep him alive," he calls after them, and he hears the rasping weakness in his voice and cringes. "You can't save him."

But as much as Aunamee loves speeches, he can't go on. His chest seizes with every breath. He can't raise his voice. He can't cover the distance. He lets his head fall forward and breathes through his teeth, hissing with rage. Pain. Things left unfinished.

[nunpunching]

But Punchy and Topher are too far past to hear Aunamee's words. Punchy goes another two hundred yards and then sinks to his knees, still carrying his grisly, bleeding package. He lays Topher on the ground, on the smooth tile where a fountain one emerged.

"Toph, Toph, it's okay, it's breezy..." He holds his hands over the wound, as if he can keep it from pumping out blood. "Can you hear me?"

He never paid attention during First Aid at the Seminary. He always assumed that, for lack of a better term, medical business was 'bitch shit'. The real heroes would be taking down the bad guys and getting accolades while the paramedics scrambled around, anonymous and without glory.

Now Punchy realizes that maybe he horribly miscalculated what it took to be a hero.

"Toph, I got you, homie, it's gonna be breezy..."

[amoral_savior]

It didn't feel breezy. It felt cold and tiring.

Once Topher was on the ground his mind came back to him long enough to tell him that, yes, he is dying, and that he had to warn Punchy. His blood covered hand grabbed onto Punchy's arm and squeezed weakly. "A-Alpha. Don't let him get you. He's..." Topher blinked back tears of pain, "I didn't know. It wasn't my fault. He wasn't suppose to happen."

A spasm of pain shot through him and he cried out. "Punchy. Pu...nch. Don't fight him, just run. Don't let him kill you too."

[nunpunching]

Punchy listens. He listens, and once Topher's done, he puts a finger to Topher's lips. "Okay, homie, I promise. Just hold tight a minute, breathe deep. Hand right here."

He doesn't know who Alpha is, or if this is just the rambling that comes with shock and blood loss. It doesn't seem important now, thinking of some future where he might run into some other killer. The important part is that Topher's hurt now, bleeding all over now, and that Punchy couldn't do anything to stop it.

He uses Topher's cape and starts to wrap it around Topher's abdomen, pulling it tightish to apply pressure, and then pulls Topher into his lap. He doesn't remember anything medical, just that you're supposed to keep people warm if they're going into shock. He can do that.

"I got you, Toph. It's okay."

[amoral_savior]

He couldn't blink back the tears anymore. The pain wasn't going away and he just knew he wasn't going to live. Truth of it was he was scared. All the science in the world hadn't prepared him for this moment. He was suppose to die an old man surrounded by his computers, not stabbed in some horror game.

Punchy's presence helped. He wasn't alone. Not yet.

"T-take the supplies." Ones of his bloodied hands reached into a pocket and pulled out that damn can of caviar still unopened after all this time. "Here. I hate fish."

There were no birds. He hadn't noticed before. Topher sighed and closed his eyes letting out a soft breath of air. It was his last.

[nunpunching]

"Stay with me...stay..." But even Punchy, with his oblivious, delusional optimism, knows that's not going to happen. He brushes some of Topher's hair out of his face and closes Topher's eyes and then regrets it, because it just smears fingerprints of blood on Topher's forehead.

Eventually the cannon goes off. Punchy holds Topher's body for a while and mutters a quiet prayer. May Topher be at peace. May he be warm and feel no pain. Topher didn't seem the religious type, but Punchy believes God is merciful to non-believers, no matter what he's been raised with.

The image of the spear running him through keeps flashing through Punchy's mind. He should have been the one to offer a handshake. He should have moved faster. He should have been able to save him. He should have done something, anything, to keep Topher's gesture of trust from being his last.

Finally, he hears the hum of the hovercraft. He tucks the can of caviar in the waistband of his pants and stands up, laying Topher in the grass, straightening his silly prince outfit. He imagines that if he and Topher met in another life, there'd be energy drinks and baggy t-shirts and gaming marathons, not a desperate scrabble not to die. Maybe in another life Topher would have died happy or at least painlessly, not scared. Not let down by his superhero sidekick.