![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Tell me, why don't you kill me, and put a gun against my head
Who | Maximus, R, Eponine, Sigma and maybe Wyatt at the very end (Closed!)
What| Maximus has decided that to keep R from killing Wyatt, he needs to keep him fed, so they're off looking for 'food'.
Where | Desert arena.
When | Whatever time it is right now.
Warnings/Notes | Death, Violence, Cannibalism, Gore, uh... probably a host of others. Nothing sexual though!
Maximus felt a lot more at ease, now that the days and the nights were their usual length again. He and R set off at dusk in search of 'food'. Maximus and Wyatt didn't speak about it, which at least meant they didn't argue. R needed to eat, and Maximus knew what that entailed, and he would see it done.
The sun was low and sinking lower, which meant that it wasn't quite as warm as it could be, but there was still plenty of light to operate by. No storm, though the sand still whipped across the dunes with the wind.
He was running low on water, saving his last gulps, his mouth and throat dry and parched. The skin at the edge of his lips beginning to crack.
He stopped, letting his bag drop to the ground, his crossbow with it.
"Hold up, R," he said as he retrieved the flask at his hip. "Need a drink. You smell anything?" He asked as he raised it to his lips, taking a single sip of the precious fluid.
What| Maximus has decided that to keep R from killing Wyatt, he needs to keep him fed, so they're off looking for 'food'.
Where | Desert arena.
When | Whatever time it is right now.
Warnings/Notes | Death, Violence, Cannibalism, Gore, uh... probably a host of others. Nothing sexual though!
Maximus felt a lot more at ease, now that the days and the nights were their usual length again. He and R set off at dusk in search of 'food'. Maximus and Wyatt didn't speak about it, which at least meant they didn't argue. R needed to eat, and Maximus knew what that entailed, and he would see it done.
The sun was low and sinking lower, which meant that it wasn't quite as warm as it could be, but there was still plenty of light to operate by. No storm, though the sand still whipped across the dunes with the wind.
He was running low on water, saving his last gulps, his mouth and throat dry and parched. The skin at the edge of his lips beginning to crack.
He stopped, letting his bag drop to the ground, his crossbow with it.
"Hold up, R," he said as he retrieved the flask at his hip. "Need a drink. You smell anything?" He asked as he raised it to his lips, taking a single sip of the precious fluid.
no subject
His face hardened.
At least he'd warned him. That was a point in his favour. But not much of one considering how sluggish he'd gotten. Should have seen the signs earlier. Damn it.
He took a step back. "Any idea how long until you lose control of yourself?" Maximus asked, hand on the hilt of the machete at his side, ready to be drawn with a second's notice, the bag laying forgotten behind him as he circled around R. "Enough time to find you food?" Not that he knew where to get any. They'd seen neither head nor hide of a tribute in days.
no subject
"I think...so. Sorry," he added.
He meant it. Or he thought he meant it. Did he? It got hard to tell the hungrier he got what he did or didn't do, R at least pretty sure he hadn't made a pass yet at Max if they were still on speaking terms here. R's blinded face turned toward the human again, following that voice, tracking his forehead despite the man being only a blurry smear against the dusk. His mouth worked as he struggled for something productive. Something to show Max he hadn't lost control yet. Something reasonable.
"Water...hole. Food?" R was prepared to shuffle off and put some distance between him and Max, oblivious that the last time he'd gone there, it'd dried to little more than a muddy puddle.
no subject
Eponine was hungry. Mona was hungry. And by now, she was eaten up with guilt about Alex's death as well - because it was her fault. She'd killed him. A murderer as well as a thief now.
So she'd set out to track down some food. Unfortunately, the first people she'd come across were R and Maximus.
Her eyes narrowed. That horrid man who had talked down to her. He deserved to be left without food... and would R even eat it anyway? Really, she'd only be harming Maximus...
She crept slowly closer, breath shallow from the intense pain in her ribs. One hand pressed tight against her bound chest, and in her left, she clutched the knife that Wesker had sent her. Would he be proud of her now?
She inched closer and closer. There was no place much to hide; she'd have to be quick. That made her smile ruefully. Eponine couldn't run as fast as she usually could, not with the broken bones.
But she'd have to do it. She took a deep breath and moved closer to the couple.
no subject
He had thought it was impossible to find R more disconcerting than he had before, but he was wrong. Very, very, wrong. The eeriness crept through his spine, twisting the muscles and twitching at his eye.
"Waterhole." He said, flatly, but agreeing. His eyes narrow, and he pointed ahead of him. "You keep at least ten yards ahead. You come any closer, and I'll dismantle you where you stand. Understood?"
no subject
He wondered what his life had been like. Those hopes and dreams and little experiences that made a man. All the good stuff swimming around that frontal lobe of his. R's withered tongue flicked out to ran across his lips, which was so past the point of chapped it wasn't even funny, and he nodded again without remembering he'd already done that.
"Okay," R said with a groan, because that seemed safe and noncommittal when parts of the conversation were sliding in and out of sight. "Okay" and "uh-huh" and "hggh brains" were safe bets when you weren't sure who said what when.
SORRY! I fell asleep
She waited for a moment, letting both men move off a little distance before she began her approach. And then she moved as fast as she could, ignoring the pain in her chest.
Eponine ran and ducked, ducked as far down as she could behind the bags and began to feel feverishly for the clasp or the strings that kept them closed. She could feel food - tins of some sort, she shouldn't wonder - and she began to hurry. That horrible man would be back soon; he hadn't gone far anyway; she could still see them if she looked up. Eponine preferred to look down. She worked and she worked, grabbing as many tins as she could carry as quietly as she could.
no worries c: <3
The second he turned back to his supplies, he saw her, digging through his pack like a scavenging rat, the crossbow just to the side of her. He cursed, drawing his machete, already running toward her.
"TRIBUTE!" He yelled, echoing across the sand, half as a warning for her and half for R as he launched himself forward, blade flashing.
no subject
R stuck his right foot out and staggered after Max, following that Living scent and starting to get into the hungry corpse's idea of a run - an awkward, hunched over lope, his knees locked stiff as he kicked up sand. Even at his fastest, R was still trailing behind Max, unable to see who this Tribute was aside from another human-shaped blur.
All he knew was maybe he'd get something to eat after all. He just hoped this wasn't going to be a repeat of Aun - of last time. Please, not that again!
no subject
no subject
Grit in his eyes and a roar on his tongue, he was on her in seconds, the machete slashing down to where she was a mere second before. Up came the blade, curving back down in a sharp and violent arc towards her.
Thought was something that was only detriment, in a fight. But somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized her, knew her.
And nothing in him could bring himself to feel bad.
no subject
She sat up, and lunging forward, she tried to jam her knife into his leg, crying out as the pain in the chest overtook her. But even as she whined, the machete was flashing down again and she was forced to throw herself backwards, lying flat on the sand. From this position, she could only cry out,
"Monsieur - Monsieur, please do not hurt me - please. I have food I can give you - I can give you whatever you want - Sir. I can make you happy, Sir. I took nothing - please don't kill me, Sir."
no subject
His foot found her shoulder, pinning her hard down into the sand.
"You belong back in the capitol," He said, flatly.
It was the only reply he gave her before the tip of his machete found the soft flesh between her ribs - before he sank the entire blade deep into her chest.
no subject
"Monsieur - Monsieur -" Eponine had ceased to struggle as realisation dawned that she could not win, could not flirt her way out of if. Now, she wished only for a quick death.
She could feel it, sticky blood dripping out of the wound, soaking her velvet tunic and the makeshift bandages about her chest. She could feel her breathing starten to lighten, that too-familiar heaviness wash over.
She lay in the hot sand, the 'Prince of Thieves', still crying a little, still upset, and she waited to die.
no subject
When he was close enough for his electronic eye to compensate for his failing vision, he zoomed in and went cold at what he saw. The world seemed to slow down. He recognized the man who had run Eponine through, he'd seen him with Donatello shortly before his last death, and while he hadn't labelled him as a threat then he now knew Maximus was no different than that thing that had killed his son - an animal.
Sigma was rarely a violent man unless the fate he'd seen in his visions demanded he be. But this time there was no foresight to use as judgement, no time for consideration. Without hesitation, the Doctor drew his throwing knife. With the speed and precision only a man half machine could make, Sigma lobbed it in a fatal line towards Maximus - a shot aimed directly at his head. As soon as the knife flew did Sigma charge forward, screaming, his green eye bright with hate. He wasn't a runner by nature, having worn weighted steel boots most of his life, but getting there quickly was not a choice but a matter of necessity. Sigma gasped through steps, breathing difficultly but never slowing down - Hang on, Eponine!
The time in the snowfield he'd held Howard back from saving her, Sigma had known it was far too late, that to press on would be suicide for either of them. But as adults often did when it came to children, their children, clinging uselessly to hope Sigma knew he had to intervene for Eponine's sake. Some part of him foolishly believed he could still help.
zombie cannibalism warning
Even blind he could smell fresh blood like a stab right where it counted, flooding the roof of his dry mouth and tingling all across the board and drowning everything else out. He dimly registered Max as this blur looming over the dying Tribute - a girl, a voice whimpering and begging and struggling to gasp for breath - and he couldn't help it. It set him off. His lope turned almost into a jog, R shouldering past Max with an urgent moan, forgetting all about that invisible line he wasn't supposed to cross. He barely registered what was going on around him, too busy dropping to his hands and knees and getting right to business, audience or no audience.
(He'd be ashamed later. Right now his hunger was practically dancing in anticipation).
R's hands clawed at the dying girl. So what if she was still moving? The zombie dragged himself closer as he jerked his mouth open, closed his eyes, and ripped a big chunk out of her leg. Oh man. Even the sound of new screaming - a man's, familiar in a way maybe the girl's might've been - wasn't enough to drag R off Max's kill. He worried at her leg like a dog, thinking in the back of his mind maybe he better move up to to the jugular or, better yet, get to the good stuff.
If he kept his eyes squeezed shut, maybe, just maybe, R could pretend he wasn't showing his true colors in front of Max. Yeah, right, the hunger sneered and R drooled the girl's blood as he chewed away for all he was worth.
no subject
He pulled the blade out of her chest just as he heard the scream, just as R pushed passed him and started tearing at her leg. The pit of revulsion opened up in his stomach just as the blade flashed by his face.
He'd thought it'd missed, at first, until a long line of fire traced over his cheek.
He ignored it.
He gave her what he knew she wanted - what he would have wanted - the blade flashing down to slice through nearly the entirety of her neck in one blow, though he didn't quite decapitate her.
He had half a mind to kill R right then. Right there. But there was no time - the man that had thrown the knife at him was barreling down towards them and Maximus twisted to meet him, the blade flashing with light, blood, and death.
no subject
Though Maximus terrified him, he did not turn back. Running directly towards the trained killer, Sigma dare not let fly his last weapon, and instead clung onto it like a lifeline. The arm that held it was already mangled, bits of wire and metal sticking out of blue fabric, revealing what would have been his secret weapon in the fight. His only choice was to grab the machete with his cybernetic arms, as much as he knew it would hurt. Then, perhaps, he could get close enough to deliver a killing blow.
And even if he didn't win, he could die with his metal hands wrung around Maximus' neck. As the distance closed between them, Sigma kept his knife to his side and raised his left and undamaged arm, ready to seize the blade, whatever direction it might come down.
no subject
He didn't understand what was wrong with Sigma's arm, and didn't spare a lot of thought for it. It was a warning signal, sure, but he didn't have the depth of knowledge to understand what it meant. So thought he noted it, he didn't waste any precious thought on it.
He only thought of what he would do next.
He didn't rush to meet him - instead pushing his back foot hard into the sand, raising the machete defensively, waiting for the attack as it came barreling down towards him. Only when Sigma was effectively on him did he move, flashing the blade in an arc from his hip, upwards towards Sigma's chest, trying to get the blade up under the man's guard.
no subject
This mistake would perhaps prove fatal. He raised his knife for an unplanned attack just as the blow came. His cybernetic eye caught his opponent's movement before he consciously perceived it: reflexively Sigma lurched to his right and tried to block the strike with his other arm, but the blade snuck underneath his elbow and sliced half an inch deep through the bottom of his chest. Very real, very red blood sprayed through blue fabric, and though Sigma cried out, he did not flee. Readjusting his knife - which was not intended for close-range enounters - Sigma rushed forward, moved his left arm to block lower, and went in for an uppercut stab.
no subject
He felt the fire, the sting, but it didn't cause him to pause, didn't cause him to stop, his shoulder slamming into Sigma just as the blade flashed for another blow, aimed straight to his gut.
no subject
All breath left his body and Sigma was left with blinding pain - something so strong and so terrible it would have forced him out of this timeline had his powers been active, away from one cruel world of games and back into his own. Instead he would live through a pain so great it consumed his whole body and mind. It suffocated him, and he wanted to submit to it, to allow it to consume him, to give up and accept death. But he knew he could not. Don't stop, don't stop-
Even in the face of certain defeat, something reminded him he needed to remain focused, to survive for as long as he could manage. He took a shallow, staccato breath.
With a closed eye (and one ever fixed on Maximus, for it needed never to blink or rest) and shaking all the while, Sigma forced himself to curl his metal hand around the couple inches of blade between his stomach and the hilt. The skin that remained on his fingers was sliced through, trailing inky white fluid down the machete, and once they were worn down to the metal bone, Sigma squeezed. He clamped down onto the blade as though it were Howard's silly knife, as though he were trying to save an adolescent kid from his own poor decisions again. He wasn't entirely sure if even a titanium grip could prevent this beast from pulling it out, but when he would surely try, Sigma wound up to hit him with another slice from the throwing knife.
no subject
This entire world was filled with monsters.
His teeth bared as the blade caught between Sigma's hands - inhumanly strong. Where usually it would cut through flesh and bone like butter, the blade was trapped and would not come lose.
He wondered dimly if he'd stumbled along another Wesker - wondered if he would watch this one heal and stitch himself back together too - but it didn't give him pause. It only made him more desperate to finish this, as quickly as he could manage. Even Wesker went down for a few moments. Surely he could manage that...?
Though his sword was useless he didn't let go of it, instead kicking out, earning himself another long cut along his leg and a second to draw a knife with his free hand.
no subject
He was weary, and the sight in his cybernetic eye began to waver, a sure sign the last of his energy was spent. He was too old, now, for battles so fierce.
Exhausted, Sigma watched Maximus draw his knife with near indifference. The Doctor was no fool. He had not had the time to note his opponent's other weapons, and with the arrival of the knife, accepted silently that the killing blow would come soon. Though the sword was a plug that kept him from bleeding to death, it left them at close range. Sigma had nothing left but to raise his head and lift his knife defiantly, near Maximus' throat but not quite reaching, physically unable to swing it again but hopeful he could stab his opponent once they tried to deliver the final strike. And while he was still close enough to be seen, for any expression other than pain to be recognized, Sigma narrows his eye in complete contempt... and in challenge. He'd give it one last shot for her sake, prove that no would would kill a friend of his and walk away from here unharmed.
no subject
He keeps his neck taut, out of the way of the flailing knife, his racing heart calming now that he saw the end.
He lashed out first to drag the blade over Sigma's wrist, to try to get him to drop his own. Only then does he go for the throat.
no subject
Again. Sigma could not save anyone. Again, he couldn't even get vengeance. It's futile, now, but even in his death throes Sigma tries to grab Maximus' wrist, to try and break it in half so that maybe he'll not kill again, but this plan is fruitless in his weakness. Even the arm gripping the machete releases. His eyes unfocus and he falls to his knees, and he realizes with disgust that R's next meal is secured. What a fool he was to think of that boy as human...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Wrap up here?