Survival Of The Fittest

Noises.

Movement.

Everything suddenly burst to life and the image of the room changed burst out at him and his body jolted and he couldn’t think and he didn’t know what was happening what to do and what was happening there were people moving running footsteps echoing across the ground and he didn’t know what was happening what they were doing what they were about to do couldn’t think couldn’t act but he needed to they could hurt him they could do anything and he needed to do something but he couldn’t and the gun raised again and the gun pointed again and for a moment he could see for a moment he knew for a moment he had realised

And then the sound of the gun, the force that had sent itself throughout Alvaro’s body, took over.

And for a moment, Alvaro was in the hands of the world, as the room began to spin around him again.

For a moment too long Jasper was left wondering if his sentiment had counted for anything. There had the immaterial beginnings of a cold watery something sinking through his stomach. What if Alvaro hadn't listened?

The gun was lowering, and the fear was stillborn as it should have been.

Jasper wasn't even sure if it was relief he was feeling. He'd been so convinced Alvaro would see eye to eye with him that it was no news to him that it happened. It was a warm feeling for sure. Something more like eagerness. That feeling came with an old and familiar face, with a friend. It was starting to rain, Jasper could hear the distant thudding of raindrops against the faraway roof. Maybe nature herself would wash out their sins, let them start anew.

Jasper opened his mouth to speak, because there was so much to say. But he didn't get a word out.

He heard Raina and Cigarette Guy leaving, before he saw them doing so.

"Wait..."

It was all in slow motion. Audrey still there, still friendly, but. Raina. Her friend. They were walking away, and they were rejecting the hope of companionship. It was almost a betrayal, that they didn't share in the trust. Maybe it was a tentative peace, but Jasper had thought it could have worked out if everyone had just kept good faith. It wasn't too late, Jasper quickly, boldly thought. Maybe if he reached out and tried to speak to them too? Maybe they'd listen. "Guys!" He moved without without further thought, a step and then another forward into their wake, dragging feet slowly revving for the run. "Don't-!"

He heard the bullets. He didn't see the bullets.

He felt the bullets.

In an instant, all his strength shattered. Jasper didn't even have the breath to cry out. He'd been using that precious, life-giving breath to try and speak. To try and reach out.

That effort was aborted, cut short, and all Jasper was left with for it was the pain. Pain that burned like a fire set to that thing he'd once called a stomach, that instantly locked all his muscles rigid and he couldn't control them or anything else anymore. So he fell onto the ground with a hard crunch, and was robbed of what was left of his breath. But he let it go, as much as he could even control that. He didn't need that breath. Right now all he needed to do was desperately cling onto what was left. His peace. His hope. His friends. He could hold on somehow, even as his arms were suddenly too weak obey him.

"Alvaro..." His voice rattled flimsily and he was gargling his own shredded innards. "Alvaro... please..." He didn't even know if he was loud enough to be heard anymore, his lips were unceremoniously shoved against the floor and each syllable was a struggle for what was left of his lungs.

Everything came back, all at once.

The room stopped spinning. The noise from the gun had faded, the ringing in Alvaro’s ears being the only noise had remained. There were people he saw there earlier - shapes he didn’t look at, didn’t recognise because he didn’t look because the only thing he noticed in the room initially was Jasper and he didn’t notice them until it was too late - but they were gone now. Audrey was still there, still standing. She was looking at something, Alvaro wasn’t sure what. The feeling of dizziness still remained, and the ripples, the shaking of his body from the gun, were still present. She was looking at something. He didn’t know what. He looked. There were chairs, in a circle. One gone. Was that what she was looking at? He wasn’t sure. Wait, no. He shook his head. There was something past it. A shape, finally coming into focus.

It was Jasper, bullet in his stomach and blood on the floor.

That was when he realised.

He did that.

He just killed Jasper.

His hands started shaking.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in breathe out and no no no no no no no

His body stumbled, moved. Forward. Unthinking. His friend was in front of him. Jasper’s body was in front of him. He had to get there. Didn’t know how, didn’t know why, he had to. He had to do something, he had to get there. He killed Jasper. He had to get there and when he did he didn’t know what he was going to do but he had to get there he had to make it to Jasper and do something do he didn’t know get there move forward do something you killed him you did it again you killed another friend you have to do something you have to move forward get to Jasper do something just get there and-

Here was there. He stopped.

Jasper called out his name.

Oh god, he was still alive.

He couldn't die alone.

He wasn't afraid of death. God did it hurt, but pain was just temporary. Eternity in God's promised kingdom was free of pain, and free of fear, and free of suffering, and Jasper knew that. But he also knew he was alone, it was stark, fresh in his mind. His life had always been the people around him. Nanay, tatay, tito, bunso. Mga kaibigan. Even those faces turned unfamiliar, like Junko, and... Fire Girl... and Alvaro. Even the very person who'd taken his life away was still someone he cared about. God knew there was so much left to say to those people, so much that would never be said because- no. Jasper couldn't leave them. Not like this.

He convulsed, thrashed in agonizingly slow kicks and bobs of the neck. Every movement was more meat slopping off the bone, but he couldn't go. Not yet.

He was able to get his face off the ground. Look up, around. Barely. Jasper was a mess of blood and flesh, painted onto the floor. But all he could see through the darkness that was beginning to steal his vision...

Alvaro.

"..." Jasper had tried to say something. It hadn't come out right, or at all, even though his throat had weakly stuttered. No, no, please, he didn't want it to end like this. Not like this. He was Jasper. He was Alvaro's friend, and Alvaro was right there, and Jasper couldn't leave Alvaro like this. He had... had to say...

"A-... D-don't-..." Jasper's breathing was growing fainter, crackling into static. "Leave... I'm-... I'm still-... here..."

“I-”

He didn’t know what to say.

Jasper was below him, blood on the floor, and- oh god oh god that was blood. Jasper’s. His blood, his- oh god no no no no no, his- he shook his head. His blood was on the floor. Jasper was below him, lying there. Bleeding.

Dying.

And he did that.

He did it again. First Barry, now Jasper. No matter how much he regretted it, no matter how much he said about never doing it again, it had happened. He had done it again. Another friend, another customer, another teammate was dead, by his hands.

But wait.

“I-”

No. No. No they weren’t. Jasper was breathing. Jasper was talking. He was still alive, there was a chance-

No. No. No there wasn’t. Jasper was bleeding. Jasper was dying. He wasn’t going to live. There wasn’t a chance. He was going to be another friend struck down by his hands.

And no. No. It wasn’t going to be quick. Alvaro knew that. The wound. It was bleeding. Not quickly. Slowly. He knew. Jasper was going to die. There was nothing Alvaro could do about it. He was going to die in pain and in fear and alone and there was nothing Alvaro could do about it because he did it he messed up he shot Jasper he killed Barry he murdered and made everyone hate him and he messed up and he was a failure the kid who owned a cafe who couldn’t speak at all who was an easy target and who wouldn’t do anything about it and who couldn’t do anything about it who messed up who made it so that his friend was going to die in pain and fear without anything that he could do about it and

The gun was in his hands.

His hands were shaking.

“I-”

He could do it. He could stop it. He realised that. He could do it. He could help Jasper. He could stop his pain. He could stop his fear. He could do it. He could do it.

But no, he couldn’t, couldn’t he? Jasper was there. Jasper was his friend. Jasper was a friend an ally a teammate a person he could always talk to a person he could be friends with a friend a friend a friend no he couldn’t he wasn’t going to do it again this wasn’t going to be like Barry this wasn’t going to be like anyone no he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t shoot Jasper. No. No. No.

But the blood was there. The blood was leaking out. He did that. He shot him. He messed up and-

He could do it. He had to.

But no, he couldn’t.

“I’m-”

The gun was in his hands.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It hurt so much, to try and hold on. Every inch of Jasper, bits he didn't even remember had existed, drifted away into that yonder blue ocean to a sailor's burial. Anything that Jasper could hang onto bit back, admonished him for daring to try. Slipping into death seemed comfortable and warm like slipping into a blanket. But he had to stay, for his friend. Because Alvaro...

Alvaro wasn't talking.

He struggled to look Alvaro in the eye. More things he couldn't guess at leaked out of the the gape of his abdomen. He could only feel them, not see them. And frighteningly even those pathetic sensations were beginning to fade.

Alvaro still wasn't talking.

Please. Jasper just wanted him to say something. Anything, to acknowledge the finality, the ending of one life and the beginning of another. To let Jasper feel he'd done something, anything at all before he'd slipped away. Had God already confiscated Jasper's hearing too? Was God telling him to let go, let himself rest in peace?

No. No, Jasper felt no peace. Not now, not while one of his best friends was standing there, not saying anything while Jasper begged him to. No, but. Jasper couldn't die like that. He couldn't blame Alvaro. As much as it hurt to see him just stand there. Were Alvaro's lips moving? It was all so dark, too dark to tell anymore. He just needed to be strong a little longer. Push the words out, something, anything. Seconds were passing. Maybe it was minutes, hours. Everything was molten cold, colorless iron and steel filling in the gaps. Where there had once been sensation and sound, now nothing.

The silence felt desolate. Empty, void of all noise. Even the fading whisper of Jasper's own heartbeat in his ears was muffled, indistinct.

Jasper felt so alone. Alvaro was right there and Jasper was still dying alone.

His friend had never been so far away before.

This wasn't peace.

He... just...

Had to...

"P-please..."

Jasper wasn't even sure his lips were moving anymore.

'Say something.'

'Don't leave me here.'

'Don't let me die like this.'

“I’m sorry.”

He pulled the trigger.

In the end, Jasper never heard Alvaro say anything.

In the end, Jasper died alone.

The bang sounded through the room. The sound began to ring through his ears again. The room didn’t seem to spin - the gun hadn’t moved, he didn’t lose his balance - and the image stood still. He could see it clearly, now. Jasper - his friend - lying there. Head bleeding. Head partly gone. Dead.

He did that.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

But no he couldn’t he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t think the room span and his mind span and






steps back. Body moving. Couldn’t see it. Didn’t see it. Didn’t want to see it. His body moved. His body span. Mind span. He didn’t know where he was going and what was happening and where he was or anything didn’t know didn’t know didn’t know and







hit the floor. Stop moving. Stop spinning. Nothing was in his hands. He couldn’t feel anything. The floor touched his face. His body. It was the only thing he felt. Saw. There was nothing else. This was it.

Wait, no, he had to get up. Anything could happen. He had to do something.

He had to.

But he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

He had killed Jasper. Everything - all that had happened - was his fault. He knew that. Everyone knew that. They were right and he didn’t know and he didn’t want to and he couldn’t move and he wasn’t moving and

the room stopped spinning.

Everything… was back now. Room. Chairs. Him. He could see. He could think. He could breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. He was here. Somewhere. Didn’t know where. He was here. Alone. By himself.

Wait.

Was he?

He didn’t know.

There was a gu-

No there wasn’t.

And quickly, suddenly, without any hesitation, he stood. Moved. Looked around. Jumping. Jolting. Had to move. Had to run. Had to get the gun and-

He was alone.

Nobody else was in here with him.

Wait.

Where was the gun?

Wait, there it was. Next to…

Next to…

He took his steps. Left. Breathe in. Right. Breathe out. He could do this. He could do this. He was there, he just needed to-

And there was Jasper.

His corpse.

He had done that.

And no he couldn’t look he couldn’t see he couldn’t do anything he couldn’t no he just had to grab the gun do it get out of here he could feel it hand on rubber or metal or he didn’t know grab it step away and-

No.

He couldn’t stay here.

He knew that now.

So, with one step taken at a time, he left.

((Alvaro Vacanti, continued elsewhere))

So.

So like.

Audrey had no idea what just happened. When Alvaro left the room with his gun and without cleaning up the mess he had made, Audrey just stood there. Eyes wide, pupils dilated, unblinking. Her arms slack by her sides, her breath caught in the pit of her throat. She stared at the corpse on the ground, what was left of Jasper Bustamante. She stared at it and stared at it, trying to process why Jasper was dead, when the hell did this happen? Of course it was Alvaro, fuck it, of course she knew that. She saw him pull the trigger herself. What shocked her was how quickly Jasper went from smiling to corpse face in what felt like sixty seconds. It wasn't like in the movies where things just fade away, slowly, until there is nothing left. Jasper did not have the luxury of a slow, melodramatic death. That's what dug into Audrey, sank in, lingered long after Alvaro was gone. And that's what made Audrey frozen in place. She stood there for lord knows how long just gaping at freshly painted stain on the ground and she stood there until some part of her brain asked her why she was staring at a corpse and Audrey did not have a good enough answer.

Audrey did not cry. Of course she would, later. She just turned away from the body, grabbed her bag off the chair and turned to leave.

Was her body going into shock? That was the only explanation she had regarding the lack of reaction. Audrey took the death of Jasper like she would the death of a fly. Jasper Bustamante, someone she might have considered a friend. Jasper Bustamante, a friendly boy who never did anything to hurt anyone. Jasper Bustamante, the person who tried to talk to Alvaro. Audrey wanted to talk to Alvaro too. But she was too scared. Scared and furious. Alvaro ditched her, of course. Alvaro also killed someone so, um, yeah. Audrey, for once in her life, decided to compose herself because, hey, Jasper was trying to talk to him. Everything was going to be fine.

"No one is trying to understand you, to help you."

Much later, Audrey wondered what would have happened if she tried to speak to Alvaro. Would Jasper still be alive? Would she have taken Jasper's place on the dirty floor in the Group Therapy room? And for what? For trying to help Alvaro?

"I just want to listen, Alvaro."

What a crock of shit.

(Audrey Reyes continued Cold Cold Nights under Chrome and Glass.)