Norbert kept his eyes locked on Trinity, his heart racing.
Had to step as carefully as he'd ever stepped here. She was a hair's breadth from losing it completely.
What'd he done wrong? Was the plan not enough of a plan? Like damn, he knew full well that it wasn't really the finished article, but he thought she was aboard.
No time for that now. The wrong words would kill him.
"Trinity. Let's think this through, okay?" He didn't make any moves, kept himself propped, kept himself unthreatening. "We've each had the chance to betray each other if we really wanted. I could have snuck off at night, sure. But if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have had to set up some kind of scam. I could have attacked you in your sleep." He grimaced. This sucked to even think about, let alone vocalise. "Same from you. But we didn't, right? We trusted each other that far, and we were right to trust each other.
"Paranoia's a trap, Trinity. You're better than that."
What Do We Do Now?
Day 8, Open
It was irrefutable, in the end.
No matter her suspicions, no matter how goddamn sketchy Norbert had been in hindsight, was being right now, he had tugged on the exact thread that unravelled everything about Trinity’s accusations - why, exactly, hadn’t he taken any of the myriad opportunities to kill her, if he really had wanted her dead?
That moment in the foyer. That was coming back to haunt her right this fucking second, wasn’t it? Her, bent over double, sick to her stomach, unable to even talk, let alone react to anything going on around her or ti fight back. Him, ignoring the spear propped up against the front desk, moving only to crack open a window and give her the space she needed.
She could practically hear the sasumata splintering beneath her grip, the weight of her misjudgement colliding at full speed with her unwavering belief in how naive and reckless and stupid trust truly was. It wasn’t just the main lobby, after all. He could have taken her by surprise and drowned her at the beach. He could have stomped on her neck while she slept. He could have splintered her leg and left her to wallow in despair in the icy wastes.
“You… Okay. Fucking- maybe you had a deal, then, to… to give him the first kill, and-”
Illogical. Try fucking harder. What did Norbert have to gain from that arrangement? What did the rat fuck who had tried to slaughter her get out of waiting so long for their prey to be herded into his gaping maw? Especially with the announcements being a web of fabrications and lies and horse shit. Norbert could have ripped her guts out and impaled her on her own spear. The terrorists would still probably have blamed Kitty for it, come morning.
Her forehead was awash with sweat, soaking her hair through. Her teeth ground together, her chipped fingernails dug in and broke against the solid wood of her polearm.
She had been wrong. She had fucked up. This ambush had been her would-be assassins plan, and his alone.
She felt her head spin, her blood rushing to it at mach speed.
“Fucking… FUCK!”
Trinity spun on her heels, facing away from Norbert, and with a roar that shattered her voice, hurled the sasumata into the office with every ounce of her strength, watching as it pierced straight through one of the flimsy-ass partitions, hearing glass shatter and wires fizzle as it jostled the monitor off of the desk behind it.
She breathed in and out, harsh and heavy, spitting saliva onto the ground, hands pressed against her thighs. The fire in her eyes remained, but for now, it was directed inwards, mind still whirling and ablaze, trying to adjust, trying to adapt what she knew and what she suspected, forcefully jamming square pegs into triangular holes.
“Don’t… do NOT fucking talk to me.”
She spat the words out, still facing away from Norbert.
No matter her suspicions, no matter how goddamn sketchy Norbert had been in hindsight, was being right now, he had tugged on the exact thread that unravelled everything about Trinity’s accusations - why, exactly, hadn’t he taken any of the myriad opportunities to kill her, if he really had wanted her dead?
That moment in the foyer. That was coming back to haunt her right this fucking second, wasn’t it? Her, bent over double, sick to her stomach, unable to even talk, let alone react to anything going on around her or ti fight back. Him, ignoring the spear propped up against the front desk, moving only to crack open a window and give her the space she needed.
She could practically hear the sasumata splintering beneath her grip, the weight of her misjudgement colliding at full speed with her unwavering belief in how naive and reckless and stupid trust truly was. It wasn’t just the main lobby, after all. He could have taken her by surprise and drowned her at the beach. He could have stomped on her neck while she slept. He could have splintered her leg and left her to wallow in despair in the icy wastes.
“You… Okay. Fucking- maybe you had a deal, then, to… to give him the first kill, and-”
Illogical. Try fucking harder. What did Norbert have to gain from that arrangement? What did the rat fuck who had tried to slaughter her get out of waiting so long for their prey to be herded into his gaping maw? Especially with the announcements being a web of fabrications and lies and horse shit. Norbert could have ripped her guts out and impaled her on her own spear. The terrorists would still probably have blamed Kitty for it, come morning.
Her forehead was awash with sweat, soaking her hair through. Her teeth ground together, her chipped fingernails dug in and broke against the solid wood of her polearm.
She had been wrong. She had fucked up. This ambush had been her would-be assassins plan, and his alone.
She felt her head spin, her blood rushing to it at mach speed.
“Fucking… FUCK!”
Trinity spun on her heels, facing away from Norbert, and with a roar that shattered her voice, hurled the sasumata into the office with every ounce of her strength, watching as it pierced straight through one of the flimsy-ass partitions, hearing glass shatter and wires fizzle as it jostled the monitor off of the desk behind it.
She breathed in and out, harsh and heavy, spitting saliva onto the ground, hands pressed against her thighs. The fire in her eyes remained, but for now, it was directed inwards, mind still whirling and ablaze, trying to adjust, trying to adapt what she knew and what she suspected, forcefully jamming square pegs into triangular holes.
“Don’t… do NOT fucking talk to me.”
She spat the words out, still facing away from Norbert.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
Norbert didn't exhale in relief until Trinity was no longer looking at him and was most assuredly no longer focusing on him.
She wasn't anything close to stable right now. He couldn't tell whether she was angrier that he'd proved her wrong or that she didn't have reason to take another swing.
His abdomen ached. He felt a trickle down his stomach and he hoped that it was sweat.
A few more phrases cycled through Norbert's head as he focused on Trinity's heaving back. He wound up not saying any of them. Didn't want to push his luck.
Truth was, he was scared. He'd talked her down this time. How about next time? The time after? Impossible. Things had changed between them, broken in a way he didn't think could be fixed.
"Alright."
Norbert retreated back through to the other room and sat down. Hard. He winced. After a moment, he stood back up and sat on the desk instead. Made sure to face towards where Trinity was situated.
She wasn't anything close to stable right now. He couldn't tell whether she was angrier that he'd proved her wrong or that she didn't have reason to take another swing.
His abdomen ached. He felt a trickle down his stomach and he hoped that it was sweat.
A few more phrases cycled through Norbert's head as he focused on Trinity's heaving back. He wound up not saying any of them. Didn't want to push his luck.
Truth was, he was scared. He'd talked her down this time. How about next time? The time after? Impossible. Things had changed between them, broken in a way he didn't think could be fixed.
"Alright."
Norbert retreated back through to the other room and sat down. Hard. He winced. After a moment, he stood back up and sat on the desk instead. Made sure to face towards where Trinity was situated.
((Taking over Trinity Ashmore. Post written by Pippi.))
There were thin splotches of blood staining the faded old carpet, barely more than copper-scented maroon pinpricks. You wouldn’t have noticed them if you had just been strolling casually down the aisle; even if you’d looked down, it would have been easy to mistake them for spilled ink or splashed coffee, or maybe even the remnants of a threadbare pattern. You’d have glanced, shrugged, then continued on with your day, forgetting about it the moment it left your vision.
Trinity knew otherwise. Trinity knew better. And somehow, in her haze of aimless rage, she had ended up right in front of the scene of her almost-assassination. Like her body had, instinctively, known exactly where to bring her. She couldn’t take her eyes away from it, even through her still-heavy breathing and the swirl of thoughts consuming her mind.
Closing her eyes did nothing, either. She could still see the scene displayed ahead of her as if they were wide open.
She had no regrets over her actions, obviously. That much needed to be made clear. It had been him or her, a fight for her survival; he had messed up, and she had not. It was as simple as that. Besides, he had managed to scurry away with his tail between his legs anyway. No, it was her reaction afterwards, her misjudgment of Norbert’s role in this attempted murder, that was still getting to her.
So she just needed a moment. A chance to step back, to consider her options. To ask herself one question:
‘What exactly did this change?”
It took her a while to come to a conclusion. But the answer turned out to be simple enough. ‘Not much at all’, in the end. After all, did it disprove that the terrorists were lying about every bit of so-called information they were filtering down onto the island? Not really, no. Did it disprove that the only person she could even begin to trust out here was herself? Absolutely not. She had simply misplaced one piece of the puzzle, that being the concept of Norbert having masterminded this ambush all along. An edge section, one piece looking much the same as any other. Easy enough to do. All this served to do, she imagined, was to drive a wedge into the trust between them both.
Something that would affect Norbert far worse than herself.
Trinity spat out onto the ground again, letting out a noise of disgust, as she turned around to recover her weapon. She had no interest in staying in this building any longer. She still felt nauseous, still rattled from seeing her life flash before her eyes. Maybe there were tools in here that made up an important part of Norbert’s plan. Well, if that was the case, then he could damn well come and find her when everything was finally set up and ready.
It took four tries, but eventually she wrenched the sasumata free of its partition prison, ripping free and dragging a loud grunt of exertion from her lips along with it. Gingerly, body still feeling like it was made of glass, she stepped out of the office area, back into the main lobby, the stench of rot turning her nose up and making bile creep up her throat once again.
Norbert was still here. Sitting on the desk. She glanced at him, eyes narrowed, for a moment.
She snatched the pointed branch up from its resting spot against the front of the desk. She had finally caught a taste of the violence that the terrorists had been brewing with their deception and their false leads - she couldn’t pass up a single form of protection at this point. She cleared her throat. She strode out the front entrance.
She didn’t have a place in mind to aim for, or even a direction to be heading in. But then, she had an inkling. A hunch that this statement applied to the both of them.
Her heart hoped she was wrong. Her brain knew she was not.
((Trinity Ashmore continued elsewhere))
There were thin splotches of blood staining the faded old carpet, barely more than copper-scented maroon pinpricks. You wouldn’t have noticed them if you had just been strolling casually down the aisle; even if you’d looked down, it would have been easy to mistake them for spilled ink or splashed coffee, or maybe even the remnants of a threadbare pattern. You’d have glanced, shrugged, then continued on with your day, forgetting about it the moment it left your vision.
Trinity knew otherwise. Trinity knew better. And somehow, in her haze of aimless rage, she had ended up right in front of the scene of her almost-assassination. Like her body had, instinctively, known exactly where to bring her. She couldn’t take her eyes away from it, even through her still-heavy breathing and the swirl of thoughts consuming her mind.
Closing her eyes did nothing, either. She could still see the scene displayed ahead of her as if they were wide open.
She had no regrets over her actions, obviously. That much needed to be made clear. It had been him or her, a fight for her survival; he had messed up, and she had not. It was as simple as that. Besides, he had managed to scurry away with his tail between his legs anyway. No, it was her reaction afterwards, her misjudgment of Norbert’s role in this attempted murder, that was still getting to her.
So she just needed a moment. A chance to step back, to consider her options. To ask herself one question:
‘What exactly did this change?”
It took her a while to come to a conclusion. But the answer turned out to be simple enough. ‘Not much at all’, in the end. After all, did it disprove that the terrorists were lying about every bit of so-called information they were filtering down onto the island? Not really, no. Did it disprove that the only person she could even begin to trust out here was herself? Absolutely not. She had simply misplaced one piece of the puzzle, that being the concept of Norbert having masterminded this ambush all along. An edge section, one piece looking much the same as any other. Easy enough to do. All this served to do, she imagined, was to drive a wedge into the trust between them both.
Something that would affect Norbert far worse than herself.
Trinity spat out onto the ground again, letting out a noise of disgust, as she turned around to recover her weapon. She had no interest in staying in this building any longer. She still felt nauseous, still rattled from seeing her life flash before her eyes. Maybe there were tools in here that made up an important part of Norbert’s plan. Well, if that was the case, then he could damn well come and find her when everything was finally set up and ready.
It took four tries, but eventually she wrenched the sasumata free of its partition prison, ripping free and dragging a loud grunt of exertion from her lips along with it. Gingerly, body still feeling like it was made of glass, she stepped out of the office area, back into the main lobby, the stench of rot turning her nose up and making bile creep up her throat once again.
Norbert was still here. Sitting on the desk. She glanced at him, eyes narrowed, for a moment.
She snatched the pointed branch up from its resting spot against the front of the desk. She had finally caught a taste of the violence that the terrorists had been brewing with their deception and their false leads - she couldn’t pass up a single form of protection at this point. She cleared her throat. She strode out the front entrance.
She didn’t have a place in mind to aim for, or even a direction to be heading in. But then, she had an inkling. A hunch that this statement applied to the both of them.
Her heart hoped she was wrong. Her brain knew she was not.
((Trinity Ashmore continued elsewhere))
The longer Norbert remained, the worse an idea he knew that it was.
Reasoning was great. He'd been using reason—and realistically more than a little hope—to guide him all this time. If it wasn't for reason, talking Trinity down wouldn't have worked. Logical problems were the best kinds to solve. They operated off rules. Apply the right reasoning within those rules, and a solution would spring into being.
Every bit of logic told him that he shouldn't sit here and wait for Trinity. She'd attacked somebody else and attacked him. The fact that she'd stopped for now didn't change what she'd done already. One wrong move and they were right back to her slamming a weapon into his stomach.
He didn't want it to be true. He'd put so much into this. He'd been trying his best, and he still thought he didn't necessarily have the wrong idea, but that was the thing. It didn't matter if the logic was perfectly good if he just straight up couldn't find what he needed. His educated guess about exactly how the collar explosives worked was impossible to verify if he couldn't find any other specimens.
Corpses. Any corpses with destroyed necks.
Norbert couldn't pull this off by himself. That's why getting Trinity to come with him in the first place was so crucial. Somebody to workshop with, somebody to look out for him, and he for her. Somebody for the parts of the plan that required extra hands or a little bit of smoke and mirrors. Trying to shield a detonation was already borderline suicidal. Trying it solo wasn't even doable.
So he wrestled with the logic, regardless of that he knew, he knew, he knew that it wouldn't work. Relying on the broken pieces of their trust was just as lethal as a blown collar.
And in the end, the decision wound up out of his own hands. Trinity emerged, looked at him, and left without a word.
He put a hand over his face and laughed despairingly.
OK. One more idea.
Baseball wasn't really his sport, but he knew how sac plays worked.
((Norbert continued in Late Game Substitute))
Reasoning was great. He'd been using reason—and realistically more than a little hope—to guide him all this time. If it wasn't for reason, talking Trinity down wouldn't have worked. Logical problems were the best kinds to solve. They operated off rules. Apply the right reasoning within those rules, and a solution would spring into being.
Every bit of logic told him that he shouldn't sit here and wait for Trinity. She'd attacked somebody else and attacked him. The fact that she'd stopped for now didn't change what she'd done already. One wrong move and they were right back to her slamming a weapon into his stomach.
He didn't want it to be true. He'd put so much into this. He'd been trying his best, and he still thought he didn't necessarily have the wrong idea, but that was the thing. It didn't matter if the logic was perfectly good if he just straight up couldn't find what he needed. His educated guess about exactly how the collar explosives worked was impossible to verify if he couldn't find any other specimens.
Corpses. Any corpses with destroyed necks.
Norbert couldn't pull this off by himself. That's why getting Trinity to come with him in the first place was so crucial. Somebody to workshop with, somebody to look out for him, and he for her. Somebody for the parts of the plan that required extra hands or a little bit of smoke and mirrors. Trying to shield a detonation was already borderline suicidal. Trying it solo wasn't even doable.
So he wrestled with the logic, regardless of that he knew, he knew, he knew that it wouldn't work. Relying on the broken pieces of their trust was just as lethal as a blown collar.
And in the end, the decision wound up out of his own hands. Trinity emerged, looked at him, and left without a word.
He put a hand over his face and laughed despairingly.
OK. One more idea.
Baseball wasn't really his sport, but he knew how sac plays worked.
((Norbert continued in Late Game Substitute))