No Nay Never, No Nay Never No More

[D/N]

(Fey Zelenka-Morrison continued from The Last of the Irish Rover)

That Fey Zelanka-Morrison was dying was no surprise.

Her face was blanched and grey and chafed. Her lips were scabbed twice over. The biggest blister was just above her eye. Felt like a big piece of bubble wrap stick there. Fluid merrily sloshed around inside.

When she came inside, the fire lit up on her skin. Her face was still white, but she hadn't taken her boots off in three days and if she'd had, she'd have seen the tips of her toes starting to blacken up.

She looked like dying. She looked like death.

Even if the true cause of that death was gonna be an infection of the ass, which I guess kinda was a surprise.

News alert kiddos: if you stab your own ass accidentally, make sure to not just slop some sticky dressings on there and call it a day. Cause what maybe three four days later.

Her ass was grass. By which she meant her cheek was hot. Her cheek was swelling. The pus percolated and seeped through the dressings. She also hadn't taken off her bandages for three days and mother, it was ugly down there.

She was dark and she was alive and she was dying.

"hehehehehehehehehheeh"

Fey had no fuckin' clue.

"HEY I'M BACK THINK I'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE WOOOOO ITS DARK."

She wasn't here the first day. Was she? It was the other place around here.

First day was the best. Had all been downhill from there. Big party fizzled out. Big protest led to shit.

But she'll keep going.

She stumbled through the tunnels, idly tracing her long arm against the wall as she went.

[VoltTurtle]

((Within the pitch-black darkness, something lurked.))

Fey's laughter and shout echoed throughout the tunnels. When it faded, only the sound of Fey's own footsteps remained.

The air reeked more of metal and death, with the faintest scent of alcohol underlying it, as Fey got closer to the junction at the center.

Once she reached it, ahead of her, there was an audible click-clack and the shifting of fabric.

Then a light came on, pointed directly at Fey like a spotlight, so bright in comparison to the darkness that it was akin to briefly staring into the sun.


A girl more than an entire foot shorter than Fey was standing a few feet in front of her, pointing a flashlight and a shotgun at her face. She was soaked in blood, disheveled, and stinking of alcohol. A grenade launcher was strapped to her shoulder, and a slightly overstuffed duffel bag sat on the ground a few feet away. Both her hat and the hood on her sweatshirt had cat ears. Her cheek was bandaged, and one eye heavily bruised. Her face was red and flush. She swayed ever so slightly in place. Her expression was a cold scowl, staring at Fey like a predator sizing up a meal.

"Hey," Kitty said, tilting her head ever so slightly, and curling her finger around the trigger. "Trying to ambush me?"

[D/N]

"What the fuck dude!"

And Fey was driven back against the wall of the tunnel by a light that felt like some banshee screaming full-force in her face. She dropped her bag and thrust her hands over her eyes, one more time those dukes glittered faintly in the light. Then she lowered them, blinking rapidly at whoever'd been rude enough to interrupt her jaunty shamble towards wherever the hell she was going.

"Jesus..."

Ah, it was the someone. It was the girl. It was some fucking hobbit leprechaun chick or something that Fey recognized.

"Who the hell are you again?"

[VoltTurtle]

Well, this definitely wasn't an ambush, Kitty thought.

She probably should've figured that out before, given that whoever-she-was had come in shouting down the tunnels, and didn't have any visible weapons. In Kitty's defense, she was still drunk enough that she couldn't keep her legs steady. She couldn't imagine how much worse it would've been if she had kept drinking. She hadn't even managed to finish all the wine she had been given for her prize, so more than half of it was still tucked away in her bag, the spout of its container taped shut to keep it from spilling out.

Dimly, she tried to recall the other girl's name. The gears in Kitty's head were turning slowly, but they still turned. The words "party girl" came to mind... was it Fey..?

Regardless, she hadn't been who Kitty was expecting to find down here. Kitty had been hoping the sniper—whoever they were—would come down here for convenient disposal, but it seemed said nuisance would continue to cause her further problems, at least for now.

Fey, meanwhile, wasn't a credible threat. Ignoring that she was seemingly unarmed, she looked like she already had one foot in the grave. Maybe Kitty could shoot her here and now, and frame it to herself as mercy. It probably wasn't necessary to do so at this point, but it was also probably a quicker, cleaner death than leaving Fey to her own devices. Besides, Kitty hadn't killed anyone since settling on her new mindset. She needed a test, to be sure that she wouldn't fold like the last time she decided to embrace her own villainy.

"I'm Kitty," Kitty replied after a long, thoughtful pause, lowering the flashlight out of Fey's face, but not the shotgun. "What do you want?"

Other than a stay of execution. That was already being provided.

[D/N]

It was Kitty.

Oh yeah.

Oooo, wow, big killer on the loose. All over those announcements. She'd killed anywhere between six and twenty-five people that Fey couldn't name.

Gave whoever the fuck had ran off five days ago from wherever she'd been a run for their money.

Gave Letitia a slap on her fat black ass. Leticia was dead, right? Sure she was. Fey had met her nine days ago. She remembered precisely.

This was perfect.

"I'm protesting," Fey said simply, grinning hollowly, scratching unknowingly.

Protesting alwaysingly.

"Been protesting by not killing anyone. HEEEEEY, not you though, huh Kitty?"

Fey waved her hands in fear and intensity.

"You're a big fucking killer, aren't you? You aren't too big you're a midget fucking killer WHOOPS SORRY I'M NOT PC THERE GUESS I GOTTA PROTEST MYSELF NOW CAN'T OFFEND THE FUCKING MIDGETS CAN WE?"

It was warmer down here. Her face started to flush. Itched a bit more.

"Not me. I'm woke. Fuck the system. I don't criticize the midgets for doing what they wanna do. Fucking who they wanna fuck. You do you Kitty. You go kill 'em. I ain't gonna stop you. I'm just gonna... protest you. But what do I want?"

Oh wait.

Fey could smell it.

Fuck the protest.

"Are you fucking drunk?"

She'd only been the woke girl for one main reason ever anyways.

"You got any left?"

[VoltTurtle]

"...huh?"

When Fey had called her a midget, Kitty almost pulled the trigger.

Almost.

If it was any of her bullies back at school, she definitely would have. Hell, if it had been Matthew, she would've already turned his brains into a modern art display. Fey, however, was pathetic. Nothing more than a wounded, dying animal who was presumably barely tethered to reality. Who else would walk up to a multi-murderer and, with an entirely straight face, ask for booze?

Kitty swayed in place, and hiccuped.

"Okay, f-for one," she started, "I'm not a dwarf, I'm just small. Second, I think that was supposed to be you insulting me? And thrice, I've murdered two-thirds of a dozen people, and yet you're begging me for alcohol?"

She titled her head further to the side out of confusion, scowling and snarling.

"Why would I EVER-"

---

Kitty sat against the smooth, cold walls of the tunnels, shotgun in her lap, pouring a second bottle half-full of wine for Fey before setting it down and taking a gulp out of the pot for herself.

"Ahh," she sighed, contentedly. "Tastes like the b-bad feelings going away."

She gestured to the bottle.

"Drink up."

Her head spun. Why was she doing this, again? She vaguely remembered it had been a spur of the moment decision. Was it because Fey had been the first person (ignoring Ash) who hadn't judged her for her killing? Was it sheer desperation for someone to talk to? Or was it merely that she had already been drunk off her ass?

Kitty idly rested her hands on the shotgun, as if it were her cat. Maybe it was all three. Kitty always felt a sorta kinship with wounded animals. Even if Fey was an idiot asshole, at least there hadn't been any preexisting animosity between them. Not like with Taylor. Plus, as soon as she wanted it to, this party was gonna end with a bang.

"I killed a lot of people," she hiccuped, "but I've been through some shit. Yesterday was the worst day of my life, and lemme tell you, that is some stiff competition."

She took another sip of the wine.

"But fuck them, you know?" Kitty exclaimed, putting her hands in the air for emphasis, before letting them flop back into her lap. "I decided I was gonna love myself unc- uncon- unconditi- unconditionally! So! Yeah!"

[D/N]

Fey fuckin' hated wine.

Now granted she'd only had it twice.

Including now.

"heheheheh ur a frucken lightweight hehehehehe,"

It was funny because Kitty was fucking smashed. Not Fey though. You kidding? Fey could handle her vino. Even if it sucked. She wanted whiskey. Now that was a proper Irish drink for a proper Irish lass like her.

Oooh, there she was stereotyping herself again. Fuckit. Fuckitall.

But Fey was fine. Fey definitely wasn't squirming vacantly on the ground in these tunnels, chuckling like some empty ditzy broad as Kitty rambled on. Wine was fine. Wine was the thing to do on an empty stomach while you were burnin up. Wine warmed up the frost. Wine had a bite. Nothing like a read alcohol. Like scotch. HAHAHHA that was a joke fuck the Scotch. Fuckin' Scotsmen. Bomb all the fuckin' Brits. But wine was nothing good like a pint of Guinness but at least it had a little bit to take the edge off that's all it was doing to Fey and meanwhile Kitty said something about the other day sucking.

"Yeah? Tell me bout it." Fey said.

She gave that jack o'lantern grin and downed another swallow.

"No really tell me bout it. This fuckin wine sucks by the way. Ain't even a red. Some shitty white. What sucks bout you? Besides the killin. I'm not killin'. I'm protestin the killin. But people kept fucking it up. What sucked bout yesterday?"

[VoltTurtle]

"Weeeeeell," Kitty started, never one to pass up the opportunity to complain. "First, it all started with me finding my sister dying in the snow the night before. I fixed her up and made sure she wouldn't bleed to death, and then when she woke up the next morning, you know how she thanked me?"

Kitty paused, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Fey as though she expected a response to her rhetorical question.

"She tried to fff-fucking kill me! Gave me this big ol' shiner."

She pointed to her slowly healing black eye.

"So I stabbed her, and then she fucking hugged me as she died?" Kitty slurred, blinking rapidly. "I think she was trying to motivate me to win, or something. I dunno, it was twisted, abusive older sister logic."

Kitty took another sip of the wine. Tasted the way burning tires smelled. Delicious.

"And then my best friend got back," she yawned. "He was uh, with me, by the way, but he left before my sister woke up. ANYway, he hugged me and comforted me and stuff and then I fell asleep and when I woke up he was GONE and and and he took all my weapons too."

She tapped the grenade launcher. Small, metallic, happy taps.

"'Cept for this one," and the knife.

Kitty hiccuped again. Was that normal when drinking? She always saw it happen in those old cartoons.

"So anyway I went out looking for him and found my other best friend who's not my other best friend who's dead, weird coincidence right, and then she didn't want to be my friend anymore, so I ran away."

Tears started to form at the corners of her eyes at the thought. She sniffled, and wiped them away without noticing.

"And then I tried to kill myself again, third times the charm right?" she slurred. "Except I fucked it up again, story of my life, and then afterwards I decided that hating myself was cringe actually."

Kitty forced a dopey, drunken smile.

"So I'm better now! It was just that easy!" At least as long as she ignored every way that it wasn't.

Idly, her hands returned to resting on the shotgun, finger curling into the trigger guard.

"Anyway, uh," Kitty mumbled. "What's been, ah, going on with you?"

[D/N]

Well Kitty's logic sure all made sense.

"What've I been doing. It's funny! It's like funny cause when all you fucks go round killing each other I've been doing FUCK ALL cause I'm protesting it see? Two weeks on this place and doing fuck all. I fell on my ass though and like stabbed myself."

Fey shifted and leaned forward, on her knees now. It was too goddamn dark in these tunnels. What time was it? Kitty was just like this stupid blur.

Oh yeah she was still a stupid massive murdering blur. Fey hadn't forgotten that.

"That sucked. Don't tell Jimmy. But No shit your sistuh huh? I can relate. I mean I don't gotta sistuh but I got a little uh stepsistuh. A little fucking stepsustaha she collects like Africa voodoo masks. Fuckin' believe it? Anyway she sucks so yeah I can relate."

But Fey was all about not doing anything to the massive murdering blurs cause that was the whole point of the protest. To party instead.

And she was doing it now.

"woooooooooooooooo I had one bitch yesterday call be a racist. I was in the all during COVID shit I was in the protest groups yo bro! Who's the fuckin' racist? Nah, nah, it's my fuckin' STEPMOM that's the racist! You try teaching Irish history at heah school? She like got all pussy on me when I was tryin to look up these Irish tat designs for when I tuhned 18 and I was like 'fuck you bitch, I was out theuh for George Floyd wha wa you doing?' So you see."

Oh fuck yeah by faith and begorrah she was doing it now.

"Cause I'm not like racist Irish I just like that I'm Irish. It's fuckin Baaaawstin yeah I'm Irish. Shippin up to Bawstin yah. Lemme teach you a song. This is the Irish drinking song."

Cause Kitty was gonna see. What she shoulda done. Done insteada killing.

"SO it goes I been the wild rover fuh many a yearrrrrrr

And I spent all me money on whiskey and beeeeeeer

And then.... I said

uh, fuck it and... give me some more

But then I won't be the wild rover no more anyways then you do the chorus and it goes and it's No Nay Never, and then you do this with your glass."

She grabbed the jugthing of wine and tapped it on the old cement floor three times.

"you go like bang bang bang with your glass and then you go No Nay Never No More

And I'll play the wild rover, no never, no more."

Oh yeah give Fey the Grammy while it's still got a smidge of dignity attached to it. No need to waste times with nominees. This was a televised performance after all. Best Live Performance. Give her an Emmy while you're at it.

"That's how you really protest. By having a drink. Wasted all that time protesting stupid shit like being woke. Why wuhnt we protesting this shit? Why the fuck we worry about some fucking like insults like oooooooh, like what the fuck if I was to just go say like you know faggot in passing, huh? Faggot faggot faggot."

Fey crawled forward a foot or two.

"Hey. Kitty. I'll show ya. Call me a mick. Go ahead, call me a mick."

[VoltTurtle]

"Uhh..."

There were lots of responses that Kitty could make. Like, what the hell is wrong with you? Or what would be the point of that? However, habits were hard to break, so Kitty defaulted to her usual polite manner that she always used when speaking to someone strange and unstable.

"I don't know what that word means," she said, "but I feel like it's a slur? So uh, no, sorry."

Wow! Chimed a nagging voice in the back of her head. You're a serial killer, and you're going to kill this girl too, but you draw the line at using bad words? How noble of you.

Kitty took another sip of the wine to hush the intrusive thoughts. She was allowed to have standards, even if they were strange and probably not all that aligned with the rest of her actions. Besides, look at how much of a trainwreck Fey was. Kitty might have already decided to kill her before she knew just how poorly the other girl was doing, but it'd probably be rude NOT to kill her at this point. Plus, it was a test, right? One that she needed to submit for grading sooner rather than later.

Still couldn't do it while Fey was looking, though.

Kitty tightened her grip on the shotgun, subtly moving her hand around the grip so she could pick it up and fire at a moment's notice.

"Maybe you could, uhhh, go back to singing?" Kitty slurred.

Not that the singing was any good. Kitty was sure it was only marginally better than whatever the gunshot was about to do to her eardrums. Actually, that was a good thought, she didn't need even more hearing loss. Idly, she started pawing at her bag with her free hand, unzipping it and feeling for her medical kit. Stuffing some cotton into her ears wouldn't do much, but anything was better than absolutely nothing, especially down here with all the echoes.

[D/N]

Aaaaaaaaah

Ah

Aah and thank you so so much for playing today and proving the ENTIRE fucking thing, Miss Kitty. Oh no, please don't let the Irish girl call herself a mick you might go and OFFEND her what, murders? What murders?

And oh how Fey felt like doubling over and laughing but her gut was hurting a bit so she just lolled her head around and hooted at the air. Guess that shows what some shitty white swill on the 72 hour empty stomach starvation diet can do to ya.

"hoo yeah, don't wanna say it? Oh man, oh man my sister in Christ no that'd be baaaad, huh? Ya see yuh see. You wanna sing? C'mon sing!"

Fey grabbed the wine and drained most of the rest of it cause fuck if she was gonna let Kitty do that.

"Then I asked that bitch for free booze and she said no nay

Said a custom like yers I can have any day.

And it's no nay never"

And Fey smacked the jug on the ground all BANG BANG BANG

"No Nay never no more

And I'll play the wild rover

No never no more see its not that fuckin hahd."

She trailed off for a moment. Kitty was lookin all shifty. Good. Good on her. Good on Fey. Now time.

"Anyway your going to jail."

And now Fey chuckled.

"They get us outta here next month, or you win or whatever, I've been going around sayin. They gotta arrest you, fuh like all the murdahs. And they will. THat's what I changed. That's what I do. Let faggots be faggots if they want. Let other people call em faggots if they want. But you kill someone, then..... then we fuck on you."

And Fey had just solved the whole concept of the divided America right there. Now give her the fuckin' Nobel Prize or something. All the marching for naught. Just get a drink and have a sense of humour about it, why don't everyone?

"Mick. Fuckin mick! It just means Irish! Who cares! Whatrya a fuckin retad?"

And a beat and a look and a little bit of Kitty was something weird round school.

"Oh fuck that is it you're retahhhhded aren't ya? Or sorry yur like, yuur like neuro.... diffahntly abliitized. Okay sorry you don't get it but it's Ok cause See I didn't do the r in retaaaaded so it don't count. That's the Bawwwwstin y'now fuck Salem, Salem always sucked. But anyway. Retaahded. That shows I'm down with yuh? Huh? Huh. Ain't that right?"

She raised the glass up high.

"YOU'RE ALL MAH BITCHES!"

And brought it down and gave a look and there was a little bit left but too much wohk to bring it back to her lips and it tasted like shit anyway.

"ssssaall good. ssaaaaaall gone."

So she had a couple more verses to get through.

"Then out of me pocket took out the cash

And she opened huh eyes and she said something like yeah

And she said I had whiskey and wiiiiines of tha best

And the wahds I had said they wus only in jest"

And it's no nay never" and she dropped her head and tapped the jug on the ground all bang bang bang

[VoltTurtle]

Well, that was a lot to unpack, and Kitty was far too angry after that rant and far too drunk after all the wine to do so.

Kitty could excuse a lot, forgive a lot. Calling her a retard, though? Couldn't abide by that, couldn't turn a blind eye to it. It took her back to her days in school, how the other kids always treated her. As soon as she misunderstood anything, they attributed it to her autism, acted like it was a fundamental flaw in her rather than them not respecting her and trying to accommodate her. It had never been a flaw, it had only marked her as different. What was about to come next was her real flaw.

She fumed and snarled, and after a few moments, while Fey continued rambling and singing, she had some gauze stuffed into her ears. She'd had almost hoped that Fey could've been her friend, if only briefly. Now, those hopes had been dashed against the rocks. The mood of their little party had been utterly destroyed. Now it was time for Kitty to put up the chairs, turn off the lights, and lock the doors behind her.

With a scowl and a glassful of spite, Kitty raised the shotgun to Fey, and added her own BANG to the chorus.

[D/N]

Fey was thrown back against the tunnel wall.

Fey was gonna be remembered as a hero.

Fey wasn't dead.

Fey wasn't thinking no more though. If you could call the last week and a bit thinking at all. Maybe some would.

Fey hoped.

Cause Kitty was a murderer who was totally gonna go to jail like all the killer kids here. They could join their own prison gang.

Kitty was also a bad shot, at least while drunk, and wasn't like Fey had any clue what kinda shot she'd been before tonight, wassit?

So Fey's hands blindly went up and grabbed at the ragged flesh of her neck and only served to cut her up some more what with the glass. Kitty's shot to the head had been just a bit low and outside. It blew the side of her neck open but only nicked the jugular. It sheared off her cheek and shattered her jaw, and blew her left eardrum all to kingdom to come. Missed her collar. Small mercies there. Maybe not.

She screamed, a high gobbling sound what with the hole in her neck size of a golfball, couldn't hear it, and dropped to her side, still screaming at first, then gasping as she quickly began choking on her old blood. Her lanky frame flopped on the ground like a beached and boneless eel, and her boots beat a drumbeat on the cement and it sounded like BANG BANG BANG she'll never play the wild rover no more. The pain was a fucking blast of lightning. It pulsed and pulsed. Her left duke sliced up her right fingertips when she grabbed on top of it so she instead waved her right arm vaguely in Kitty's direction as she thrashed about. And there weren't no help comin' for ya Fey, so you might as well just hold onto that hate for your last little bit.

And the blood pumped and pumped. And her eyes gleaned in the darkness.

Took a couple minutes before it ran out.

All lyrics are whiskey and Irish roses and duplicitous women and death and war.

S123 - Fey Zelenka-Morrison - DECEASED

[VoltTurtle]

Kitty grimaced and yelped as the roar of her gun pierced her eardrums, completely deafening her and replacing the quiet ambiance of the tunnels with nothing but a maddening ringing. Plugging her ears had done little to protect them in such a confined space, and by the time they stopped hurting and she opened her eyes, Fey was lying dead in a pool of her own blood. Kitty started to breath hard and fast at the sight, only to reach over and turn off her flashlight, allowing the darkness to swallow her whole.

One at a time, she took a deep breath in, and then let it out, until she had calmed. The ringing persisted, quieter than before. Her ears had been mostly unbothered a day after her first gunfight in the tunnels, but she could tell that the problem was much worse now.

She yanked the cotton out of her ears and rested the back of her head against the tunnel, dimly staring up and out into its darkness. The familiar scent of blood filled her nostrils, and for a moment, it comforted her. Dark as the thought was, when metal was all she could smell, that always meant whatever that had bothering her had passed.

"What a waste of good wine," she muttered to herself.

So much for a test of her resolve. There was no way she would feel bad about that, because Fey sucked. Kitty should've just shot her straight away, but her drunken mind had led her astray. It had left her too caught up in the hope of having someone to talk to, no matter how unpleasant they happened to be.

What had Fey even been ranting about? She mentioned Kitty going to jail, that much she remembered, but that was ridiculous. Nobody else had been jailed after getting out of here alive, so why would she? She hadn't even killed as many people as Dodd or Calvert yet.

An intrusive thought whispered at the back of her mind that maybe the long arm of the law would change its mind just for her, but she silenced it with a light smack to the head. On the off chance that ended up happening, it was still better to be on the run from the law than dead.

Also, all the slurs? What had been the point of that? And why had Kitty even been surprised by it? She shouldn't have, given how their conversation had opened. Still, she couldn't help but be taken aback by the suddenness of it. It was such a pointless taboo to break. At least when she broke the rules of common decency, it was ultimately because she had to be the last man standing, whatever way she tried to justify it to herself in the moment.

Whatever. Best not to waste another thought on it, given that this whole fiasco had been pointless. The sniper, whoever they were, was nowhere to be found, and she had yet another notch on her belt for less than nothing gained.

Kitty sighed, and turned her light back on as she stood up, averting her eyes from Fey's mangled corpse. She collected her belongings, making sure they were securely attached, and began to stumble her way out of the tunnels. She didn't bother to grab whatever Fey might've had on her, or even look back at the body for a second.

((As she left, the ringing in her ears started to fade, but it refused to go away entirely.))