“Ah, shut the…fuck up.”
He wiped the drool off his chin, still panting. He could feel the familiar discomfort in his lungs, and reached for his inhaler. Two puffs took care of that, in a much more dignified fashion than the day before. Pocketed it again and resumed basking in his glory.
“I kicked your ass, loser. Not beating your chest now, are you? Not getting yours, are you? I kicked your fucking ass, you fucking piece of shit.”
He was still exhausted, still ached from the hits he’d received, and his voice was still hoarse and gravelly. but it felt good. It felt really goddamn good. He hadn’t won decisively, he acknowledged that. He could have finished what he started and killed Marco, he knew that too. There was, in reality, a lot left to do for this fight to be an undisputed win.
But in that moment, in that brief moment where Marco had gone to his knees first because Lucas had scored the hits, he’d felt like a winner. That felt so much better than everything his life had been for the past few months.
“You think I’m some Facebook whine pissbaby who makes fun of retards now, you fucking shitface?”
He broke into a hacking cough. Didn't break his stare.
Marco Tries To Take A Bath
Day 3: approx 1900 hours , Open! Also obligatory always Sunny title card.
“I’m not dead though. I still have my chainsaw over there.” Marco sat up. “ I still have one shithead dead, and another disfigured. Still got a lot more work to do, too.”
He watched Lucas huff from his inhaler, shaking his head. “You only hit me a couple times and you’re already winded. Yeah, I get it, asthma, but you had a chance to finish me. You didn’t. You laid down and said you won.”
Marco felt himself seething at the bullshit Lucas was saying. He won just because he kicked him in the dick? He could’ve capitalized on that, grabbed his chainsaw, or choke him out, or keep beating him down. He didn’t. He reminded Marco of Arjen.
“While you’re laying there, what’s stopping me from grabbing my saw and turning you into a chicken nugget? What’re you gonna do when I saw your arms and legs off and leave you there? Call it a draw?”
Marco stood up. He looked down at Lucas and waited for an answer.
He watched Lucas huff from his inhaler, shaking his head. “You only hit me a couple times and you’re already winded. Yeah, I get it, asthma, but you had a chance to finish me. You didn’t. You laid down and said you won.”
Marco felt himself seething at the bullshit Lucas was saying. He won just because he kicked him in the dick? He could’ve capitalized on that, grabbed his chainsaw, or choke him out, or keep beating him down. He didn’t. He reminded Marco of Arjen.
“While you’re laying there, what’s stopping me from grabbing my saw and turning you into a chicken nugget? What’re you gonna do when I saw your arms and legs off and leave you there? Call it a draw?”
Marco stood up. He looked down at Lucas and waited for an answer.
Lucas pissed himself a tiny bit more when Marco did stand up. He noticed it this time, too. It wasn’t enough to soak through to his shorts, but the sudden sensation only added to the growing dread.
How was he still moving? Thirty seconds of brawling had left him completely exhausted, but Marco had enough juice left to take off all four of his limbs and walk away. Assuming he wasn’t just blustering, which he might have been. He looked pretty tired too. That thought convinced Lucas not to start scrambling away.
He wasn’t ready to give up his W, not yet. He didn’t have the stamina to keep on throwing fists, that was for sure, but he wasn’t going to roll over and start cowering. He wasn’t going to be that person who died in a pathetic manner, not yet. Not until he’d gotten his payback on all these stupid fucks. Especially Marco.
He had to do something. Something that played into a stereotype of his favourite field that he always hoped to rise above. He had to bullshit.
He got to his feet, doing his very best not to stagger or clamber or do anything clumsy, keeping Marco in his eye line the whole time. He made a mental note of where the chainsaw was relative to them both. He wasn’t blocking it, but he thought that he was just a few inches closer to it than Marco. Hopefully enough to make a difference.
He stared Marco down, trying to keep a straight face and not start panting again. Good thing he’d already taken a hit on his inhaler. Now that they were stood right in each other’s face, he realised that, small a difference as it may have been, he was bigger than Marco. Rare as that was, being on the shorter side of guys, he had it here where it mattered.
“What’s stopping me from doing the same? I could put you down again, go over and grab it myself.” He growled, searching through the archives of movies and sightings of wild beasts and the Carter Twins for how to look intimidating. Posture and credibility, he figured? Neither of which he had in spades. “You can try again, see if you win the second round, or you can walk away with your dick between your legs. Mine’s bigger, by the way.”
He would’ve blushed if he wasn’t trying so hard not to. He hadn’t meant to bring up the dick that he’d practically kissed seconds ago, but it had just slipped out during his grasping at words that were supposed to sound tough. It did not do anything to add to his confidence. He was quick to not leave that hanging there between them.
“Plus, it’s really wet out. How do you know it still works?”
How was he still moving? Thirty seconds of brawling had left him completely exhausted, but Marco had enough juice left to take off all four of his limbs and walk away. Assuming he wasn’t just blustering, which he might have been. He looked pretty tired too. That thought convinced Lucas not to start scrambling away.
He wasn’t ready to give up his W, not yet. He didn’t have the stamina to keep on throwing fists, that was for sure, but he wasn’t going to roll over and start cowering. He wasn’t going to be that person who died in a pathetic manner, not yet. Not until he’d gotten his payback on all these stupid fucks. Especially Marco.
He had to do something. Something that played into a stereotype of his favourite field that he always hoped to rise above. He had to bullshit.
He got to his feet, doing his very best not to stagger or clamber or do anything clumsy, keeping Marco in his eye line the whole time. He made a mental note of where the chainsaw was relative to them both. He wasn’t blocking it, but he thought that he was just a few inches closer to it than Marco. Hopefully enough to make a difference.
He stared Marco down, trying to keep a straight face and not start panting again. Good thing he’d already taken a hit on his inhaler. Now that they were stood right in each other’s face, he realised that, small a difference as it may have been, he was bigger than Marco. Rare as that was, being on the shorter side of guys, he had it here where it mattered.
“What’s stopping me from doing the same? I could put you down again, go over and grab it myself.” He growled, searching through the archives of movies and sightings of wild beasts and the Carter Twins for how to look intimidating. Posture and credibility, he figured? Neither of which he had in spades. “You can try again, see if you win the second round, or you can walk away with your dick between your legs. Mine’s bigger, by the way.”
He would’ve blushed if he wasn’t trying so hard not to. He hadn’t meant to bring up the dick that he’d practically kissed seconds ago, but it had just slipped out during his grasping at words that were supposed to sound tough. It did not do anything to add to his confidence. He was quick to not leave that hanging there between them.
“Plus, it’s really wet out. How do you know it still works?”
Marco looked Lucas up and down as he stood up. Yeah, he was taller than him, but so's damn near everyone. Marco smiled. He hoped Lucas could keep standing with that bravado when he decided to cut him down. Talking shit, like he won. Acting like he had the power. Marco experienced much, much worse on this island than him. Since day one he'd taken much tougher beatings than what Lucas could dish out, hell even Ariana back at that stupid fuck chicken shit conformist party slapped harder than he could punch.
He looked Lucas up and down. He was covered in mud and bruises too. Marco knew he hadn't done all of that. If Lucas was smart he'd know that he hadn't caused the damage Marco had on him, either. He had to wonder how Lucas would be if he were put in Marco's shoes. If he experienced even a morsel of the glorious symphonies of pain that he'd experienced. Would he be reborn as Marco had been, or would he be broken and cast away. Lucas wasn't dishing out enough pain to be bragging the way he was. He didn't know who he was dealing with. He wasn't taking him seriously.
Marco stood there, smiling quietly, not answering any of Lucas' questions. He lost bearing and scoffed at the penis comparisons, but other than that he was silent. When it came to the final question, of who'd reach the saw first, or if it was still even working, Marco's lips parted. He showed Lucas every one of his teeth, and his gap as he opened his bad eye, as if giving him a glimpse of what's to come.
"You know, you're right... I don't know if it'd still work or not." Marco hoped that Lucas could swallow his own medicine, because he was about to get a heaping dose of it. "Let's find out..."
Marco's arm shot up between Lucas' legs, and grabbed. "...Together."
Marco squeezed. Marco began powerwalking to the chainsaw, taking Lucas with him.
He looked Lucas up and down. He was covered in mud and bruises too. Marco knew he hadn't done all of that. If Lucas was smart he'd know that he hadn't caused the damage Marco had on him, either. He had to wonder how Lucas would be if he were put in Marco's shoes. If he experienced even a morsel of the glorious symphonies of pain that he'd experienced. Would he be reborn as Marco had been, or would he be broken and cast away. Lucas wasn't dishing out enough pain to be bragging the way he was. He didn't know who he was dealing with. He wasn't taking him seriously.
Marco stood there, smiling quietly, not answering any of Lucas' questions. He lost bearing and scoffed at the penis comparisons, but other than that he was silent. When it came to the final question, of who'd reach the saw first, or if it was still even working, Marco's lips parted. He showed Lucas every one of his teeth, and his gap as he opened his bad eye, as if giving him a glimpse of what's to come.
"You know, you're right... I don't know if it'd still work or not." Marco hoped that Lucas could swallow his own medicine, because he was about to get a heaping dose of it. "Let's find out..."
Marco's arm shot up between Lucas' legs, and grabbed. "...Together."
Marco squeezed. Marco began powerwalking to the chainsaw, taking Lucas with him.
Lucas let out a shrill scream for the second time, as someone who’d just been grabbed by the testicles and was now being dragged by the testicles would. Any chance of looking intimidating, if it had ever existed in the first place, went out the window.
It was a horribly awkward painful shuffle, trying not to have his balls yanked off his body while also trying to keep distance from the tool Marco was trying to dismember him with. He realised, in that instant, that he may have picked the wrong person to try his new head-bashing philosophy on. It turned out Marco was fucking crazy.
Pulling away on instinct only sent more pain through his groin, which quickly deterred such action. How Marco was able to keep such a strong grip, he had no idea. If he wasn’t fearing for his life and in a lot of pain, he might’ve attributed it to his larger-than-Demetri’s penis, but being dragged along by the dick dissuaded such self-embellishments.
He pushed himself forward, trying to get closer to Marco to relieve himself of the pain, and found himself falling on to him. They didn’t go down, but the pain subsided just long enough. Lucas’ own hand shot downwards, no better ideas, and grabbed his own handful of fruit and veg.
He wrapped an arm around Marco’s shoulder, to keep his balance, and felt the naked organ in his hand. It was coarse from pubic hair and slick from ocean water, and it was a dick and balls in his hand. None of these things stopped him from squeezing as hard as he could. Marco's hand was still on his own crotch, and pain was a hell of a motivator.
It was a horribly awkward painful shuffle, trying not to have his balls yanked off his body while also trying to keep distance from the tool Marco was trying to dismember him with. He realised, in that instant, that he may have picked the wrong person to try his new head-bashing philosophy on. It turned out Marco was fucking crazy.
Pulling away on instinct only sent more pain through his groin, which quickly deterred such action. How Marco was able to keep such a strong grip, he had no idea. If he wasn’t fearing for his life and in a lot of pain, he might’ve attributed it to his larger-than-Demetri’s penis, but being dragged along by the dick dissuaded such self-embellishments.
He pushed himself forward, trying to get closer to Marco to relieve himself of the pain, and found himself falling on to him. They didn’t go down, but the pain subsided just long enough. Lucas’ own hand shot downwards, no better ideas, and grabbed his own handful of fruit and veg.
He wrapped an arm around Marco’s shoulder, to keep his balance, and felt the naked organ in his hand. It was coarse from pubic hair and slick from ocean water, and it was a dick and balls in his hand. None of these things stopped him from squeezing as hard as he could. Marco's hand was still on his own crotch, and pain was a hell of a motivator.
Marco laughed as Lucas squeaked out a scream, following him to where he wanted to go. Yeah, motherfucker! Not talking all that good shit, now are you? He had Lucas stumbling along right into his plans. That'll teach you to steal from me you baby dicked bitch. This was perfect. Two kills in one day? Eat your heart out fuckheads, I'm catching up!
Lucas stumbled forward. Lucas grabbed too.
Lucas grabbed two.
That's, that's not good at all. That actually hurts! Well Marco, you did ask for this. You are not, NOT, allowed to lose to Lucas Bitchboi Brady! Not today! You will not let this lanklet beat you at your own game! You are an apocalypse! A little pain is nothing! Pain is good! Pain makes you strong! Pain kills the weak.
Marco gasped, his face turning red. He scowled, maintaining eye contact with Lucas. "Very well!" His head shook as he refused to allow himself to scream. He refused to be beaten, especially not like this! "Let the true test of willpower begin!"
It begins.
Marco squeezed harder, his free hand reaching for the hand grabbing him. This was how we will find our true victor. He stared daggers through Lucas' soul.
Lucas stumbled forward. Lucas grabbed too.
Lucas grabbed two.
That's, that's not good at all. That actually hurts! Well Marco, you did ask for this. You are not, NOT, allowed to lose to Lucas Bitchboi Brady! Not today! You will not let this lanklet beat you at your own game! You are an apocalypse! A little pain is nothing! Pain is good! Pain makes you strong! Pain kills the weak.
Marco gasped, his face turning red. He scowled, maintaining eye contact with Lucas. "Very well!" His head shook as he refused to allow himself to scream. He refused to be beaten, especially not like this! "Let the true test of willpower begin!"
It begins.
Marco squeezed harder, his free hand reaching for the hand grabbing him. This was how we will find our true victor. He stared daggers through Lucas' soul.
Lucas returned the stare, letting the pain continue motivating, focusing on destroying Marco before he himself was destroyed. Tension mounted, pressure increased, and grips tightened moment by moment. Lucas’ eyes watered as his precious pair strained under Marco’s unrelenting crushing fingers, doing all he could to channel the energy into returning the favour. His nails dug into the skin of Marco’s scrotum, trying to burst them like the little grapes they were.
Neither of them relented, only suffered. Lucas knew that he couldn’t be the first to give in, knew that he wouldn’t be the first to give in. This was his chance to finally one-up Marco for real this time, to finish what he started for true, to – Nope! Fuck it! His balls couldn’t take much more!
He shoved himself forward with no real plan, and the two went down together hand in dick in hand. The pain from the rough landing was easy to ignore, as neither boy let up. Their eyes met in that moment of violent intimacy. He gasped. This was getting nowhere fast, except towards a bloody mess.
“I’ll let go-” he had to pause, wincing again as Marco caught his finger on something. Marco could probably feel his heart beating, as Lucas could his. “-if you let go!”
Neither of them relented, only suffered. Lucas knew that he couldn’t be the first to give in, knew that he wouldn’t be the first to give in. This was his chance to finally one-up Marco for real this time, to finish what he started for true, to – Nope! Fuck it! His balls couldn’t take much more!
He shoved himself forward with no real plan, and the two went down together hand in dick in hand. The pain from the rough landing was easy to ignore, as neither boy let up. Their eyes met in that moment of violent intimacy. He gasped. This was getting nowhere fast, except towards a bloody mess.
“I’ll let go-” he had to pause, wincing again as Marco caught his finger on something. Marco could probably feel his heart beating, as Lucas could his. “-if you let go!”
“It seems like we’re at an impasse...”
Holy fucking shit this fucking hurts. This fucking lanklet didn’t cut his nails, Marco wasn’t wearing clothes, and now he was on the ground again.
Marco felt legitimately sick. He was in the disadvantage here simply due to circumstances. He couldn’t keep this up, and he was just digging himself a deeper hole.
Marco had to give Lucas props for being so belligerent. He expected him to cower out, but so far he hasn’t. By now he took him seriously, Marco was sure of it. Either that or he was a dumbass who just couldn’t comprehend whom he was dealing with.
Marco strained as Lucas began to speak. If he lets go, then Lucas will let go. “Fuck you, you dug this hole...” Marco gasped in pain. “You can lie in-“ he panted.
“O-okay.”
Fuck it. This was getting nowhere.
Holy fucking shit this fucking hurts. This fucking lanklet didn’t cut his nails, Marco wasn’t wearing clothes, and now he was on the ground again.
Marco felt legitimately sick. He was in the disadvantage here simply due to circumstances. He couldn’t keep this up, and he was just digging himself a deeper hole.
Marco had to give Lucas props for being so belligerent. He expected him to cower out, but so far he hasn’t. By now he took him seriously, Marco was sure of it. Either that or he was a dumbass who just couldn’t comprehend whom he was dealing with.
Marco strained as Lucas began to speak. If he lets go, then Lucas will let go. “Fuck you, you dug this hole...” Marco gasped in pain. “You can lie in-“ he panted.
“O-okay.”
Fuck it. This was getting nowhere.
The great dick-squeezing truce of Survival of the Fittest came to pass, as both hands released and a wave of relief flushed over like the ocean tide. Lucas rolled away from Marco, staring up at the sky. He probably should’ve kept an eye on the guy who wanted to dismember and castrate him, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn his head. He really needed a moment.
“That was–“ He panted. Even speaking made his balls ache. Everything ached. His pride ached. “-really fucking stupid."
He brought his hands down to his own jewels, cradling them and wishing the pain to go away. He hadn't been hit in the nuts since his little sister had kicked him there when he was twelve, during a fight about something absolutely not worth a nut-punt but otherwise long forgotten. He rolled over to his side, curling up into a fetal ball and groaning all the while.
"Let's not do that again."
It was redundant, because he was prety sure he couldn't get up again, even if Marco still could. How any man could after that, he could only imagine.
“That was–“ He panted. Even speaking made his balls ache. Everything ached. His pride ached. “-really fucking stupid."
He brought his hands down to his own jewels, cradling them and wishing the pain to go away. He hadn't been hit in the nuts since his little sister had kicked him there when he was twelve, during a fight about something absolutely not worth a nut-punt but otherwise long forgotten. He rolled over to his side, curling up into a fetal ball and groaning all the while.
"Let's not do that again."
It was redundant, because he was prety sure he couldn't get up again, even if Marco still could. How any man could after that, he could only imagine.
Marco groped at his own groin as he crawled backwards away from Lucas. The release of pressure just intensified the previous pain, just barely on the border of sending Marco howling.
He crawled over and wrapped his arm around his chainsaw, sitting up against the rock he left it on. He honestly didn’t need to do anything else now. Lucas was either gonna die of an asthma attack or realize that Marco wasn’t fucking around, then die of an asthma attack, or hobble away, and THEN die of an asthma attack after walking a measly five hundred meters.
Lucas spoke up, called the whole thing stupid. He wasn’t wrong. “Don’t blame me...” Marco rasped. “You’re responsible for yourself. Take accountability, learn from this.” Y’know, if you don’t die of an asthma attack. Marco hissed, then sniggered at the mental image of Lucas flailing and wheezing around.
Marco composed himself and stared at Lucas. He was an oddity to say the least. The guy has been through something, but Marco wasn’t sure what. He looked beat to shit, but not as bad as he was. He wondered if Willow and Sierra did it.
“So... what’s your excuse? Why are you, uhhh you?” Was a badly worded question, but Marco wasn’t in any position to regain his dignity, at least not yet. No point in chainsawing him down, at least not yet.
Truth be told, Lucas had an air of crazy about him. It was only just a little bit, but it was there. He had potential. Whether or not he’d learn to use it, or if he’d just fizzle out like Arjen was anyone’s guess.
If Marco killed him now, there wasn’t much he could do to salvage this embarrassment of a moment. But maybe, he could make something of it if he let him live.
He crawled over and wrapped his arm around his chainsaw, sitting up against the rock he left it on. He honestly didn’t need to do anything else now. Lucas was either gonna die of an asthma attack or realize that Marco wasn’t fucking around, then die of an asthma attack, or hobble away, and THEN die of an asthma attack after walking a measly five hundred meters.
Lucas spoke up, called the whole thing stupid. He wasn’t wrong. “Don’t blame me...” Marco rasped. “You’re responsible for yourself. Take accountability, learn from this.” Y’know, if you don’t die of an asthma attack. Marco hissed, then sniggered at the mental image of Lucas flailing and wheezing around.
Marco composed himself and stared at Lucas. He was an oddity to say the least. The guy has been through something, but Marco wasn’t sure what. He looked beat to shit, but not as bad as he was. He wondered if Willow and Sierra did it.
“So... what’s your excuse? Why are you, uhhh you?” Was a badly worded question, but Marco wasn’t in any position to regain his dignity, at least not yet. No point in chainsawing him down, at least not yet.
Truth be told, Lucas had an air of crazy about him. It was only just a little bit, but it was there. He had potential. Whether or not he’d learn to use it, or if he’d just fizzle out like Arjen was anyone’s guess.
If Marco killed him now, there wasn’t much he could do to salvage this embarrassment of a moment. But maybe, he could make something of it if he let him live.
Had Lucas the energy, he would’ve flipped Marco a good old bird when he laid responsibility with him. Yes, he’d been trying to bash Marco’s head in with a rock, and he hadn’t changed his mind about that idea, but he wasn’t the one who’d first grabbed a fistful of nuts. Marco was clearly the one responsible for the manly agony that they were both in.
Still, the whole thing had been a good lesson: fighting sucked, and so did getting hurt. He didn’t want to do that again if he could help it, especially since it hadn’t actually worked. Marco was still talking, and he hadn’t accomplished anything.
He shut his eyes as he thought on that. Nothing accomplished, as usual. He hadn’t changed anyone’s opinion of him by trying to kill them. Or at least, not by failing at it. Whatever; this wasn’t about impressing anyone. This was about sweet cathartic hedonism. Crushed testicles were neither sweet nor cathartic, and Lucas was not the type (as he was quite confident now) to class it as hedonistic either. Maybe that Sex Ed Lucas would be into it.
As much as he ached, he felt lighter. As if he'd finally gotten some of that toxic bile out of system, even if he hadn't finished Marco off. He'd fought back, and that felt a lot better than doing nothing.
He wanted to tell Marco to fuck off again as he asked a stupid question, wanting to just float there in the sand and understand this new relief. He half mumbled it anyway, but again, it accomplished nothing. He opted to engage with the stupidity, instead. He opted to keep on fighting back.
“What do you want from me? I’ve had to be a laughing stock for six months straight, all over one stupid Facebook post. Shitheads like you took easy shots every time I tried to open my mouth, because you’re too fucking stupid to look for something more interesting. I tried to just say nothing, just be the bigger man, but none of you stopped. I tried to just ignore it and go to college, but then this happened. So fuck it, fuck you, fuck everything. No-one ever gave me any slack, and now I’m going to die. I'm getting my payback first, because why shouldn't I? I never did anything close to deserving being your whipping bitch this whole time.”
It still hurt to talk, but it felt good to say.
Still, the whole thing had been a good lesson: fighting sucked, and so did getting hurt. He didn’t want to do that again if he could help it, especially since it hadn’t actually worked. Marco was still talking, and he hadn’t accomplished anything.
He shut his eyes as he thought on that. Nothing accomplished, as usual. He hadn’t changed anyone’s opinion of him by trying to kill them. Or at least, not by failing at it. Whatever; this wasn’t about impressing anyone. This was about sweet cathartic hedonism. Crushed testicles were neither sweet nor cathartic, and Lucas was not the type (as he was quite confident now) to class it as hedonistic either. Maybe that Sex Ed Lucas would be into it.
As much as he ached, he felt lighter. As if he'd finally gotten some of that toxic bile out of system, even if he hadn't finished Marco off. He'd fought back, and that felt a lot better than doing nothing.
He wanted to tell Marco to fuck off again as he asked a stupid question, wanting to just float there in the sand and understand this new relief. He half mumbled it anyway, but again, it accomplished nothing. He opted to engage with the stupidity, instead. He opted to keep on fighting back.
“What do you want from me? I’ve had to be a laughing stock for six months straight, all over one stupid Facebook post. Shitheads like you took easy shots every time I tried to open my mouth, because you’re too fucking stupid to look for something more interesting. I tried to just say nothing, just be the bigger man, but none of you stopped. I tried to just ignore it and go to college, but then this happened. So fuck it, fuck you, fuck everything. No-one ever gave me any slack, and now I’m going to die. I'm getting my payback first, because why shouldn't I? I never did anything close to deserving being your whipping bitch this whole time.”
It still hurt to talk, but it felt good to say.
“Heh.”
That’s literally it then. Lucas wasn’t jumped or robbed. Still had both eyes. He’s just buttmad because he’s a joke. “Ooooh wow, six months of all the mean kids bullying you. Try your whole fucking life and maybe, just maybe I might see where you’re coming from.”
Pathetic, just fucking pathetic. Marcus thought he was petty, but wow, he apparently didn’t know what that word meant. That was bad, holy shit, ell oh fucking ell, arr eii pee. Lucas’s piss poor excuse of a sob story she’d some new light on Marco’s life and childhood experiences as well. It made him realize that there must’ve been something he’d done himself to deserve it. Hell, everyone at GHHS who’s been bullied deserved it probably. Marco cringed.
“So let me guess, all those bruises and dirt on you is from you trying the same shit you tried with me, and failing at that too? Is that it, because that’s what I’m hearing right now.”
Marco felt just a little bit angry. Just a lot angry actually. The absolute nerve of this fucking WIMP!
“You’re not the guy who had everything taken away from you on day one because you put your trust in some shitbag, who literally watched you get half blinded and taped to a tree. You’re not the guy who spent that day tied to a tree because that same shitbag said it wasn’t his problem when you did nothing but try to help. You’re not the guy who’d spent the last three days starving and fighting to get back on your feet. You’re not the guy who earned his fucking place and killed the piece of shit that betrayed you, you aren’t the guy who looked at an adversary leagues above you, and said to yourself, ‘yeah, I’ll take his ear’, and you certainly aren’t the guy sitting here, holding what he earned in his arms, after some little fucking amoeba had the nerve to strike while his pants were literally down.”
Marco spit in the sand.
“No, you’re the guy who thought he could be opportunistic with the wrong fucking person, multiple times apparently, all because people laughed at you! That’s your whole fucking reason for this shit?!”
Marco stood up, holding his chainsaw under his arm. He clapped, laughing an angry laugh. “You know why people laugh at you? Because you’re a fucking joke. You always were one, but nobody saw it until then when you decided to be more retarded than the legitimately retarded kid who beat you.”
Marco was pacing back and forth now. “Oh, oh! Wanna hear another joke? The only reason you’re not dead right now, is because keeping you alive from here on is more punishment than whatever I can come up with! Not even just for you, but the fact that your spineless, shriveled up husk of a body hasn’t collapsed in on itself from the weight of the bullshit within it, is proof that God’s evil, and he’s got an even more fucked up sense of humor than me, by granting you your existence and not smiting it immediately when he saw the abomination he made! You’re literally the equivalent of God taking a shit, taking a picture of it, and then tweeting it! You’re a human SHITPOST!”
Marco turned to the side and screamed. Just a long guttural roar that turned his face red, and made his vision go all starry as he was hit with the conflicting emotions that consisted of the urge to kill and the urge to let Lucas live in the knowledge he’d torment someone else.
Marco sighed, having vented enough. This was the biggest fucking letdown of his life. He turned to look back at the amoeba who didn’t rate a name anymore. “You’re literally worse than Arjen...”
That’s literally it then. Lucas wasn’t jumped or robbed. Still had both eyes. He’s just buttmad because he’s a joke. “Ooooh wow, six months of all the mean kids bullying you. Try your whole fucking life and maybe, just maybe I might see where you’re coming from.”
Pathetic, just fucking pathetic. Marcus thought he was petty, but wow, he apparently didn’t know what that word meant. That was bad, holy shit, ell oh fucking ell, arr eii pee. Lucas’s piss poor excuse of a sob story she’d some new light on Marco’s life and childhood experiences as well. It made him realize that there must’ve been something he’d done himself to deserve it. Hell, everyone at GHHS who’s been bullied deserved it probably. Marco cringed.
“So let me guess, all those bruises and dirt on you is from you trying the same shit you tried with me, and failing at that too? Is that it, because that’s what I’m hearing right now.”
Marco felt just a little bit angry. Just a lot angry actually. The absolute nerve of this fucking WIMP!
“You’re not the guy who had everything taken away from you on day one because you put your trust in some shitbag, who literally watched you get half blinded and taped to a tree. You’re not the guy who spent that day tied to a tree because that same shitbag said it wasn’t his problem when you did nothing but try to help. You’re not the guy who’d spent the last three days starving and fighting to get back on your feet. You’re not the guy who earned his fucking place and killed the piece of shit that betrayed you, you aren’t the guy who looked at an adversary leagues above you, and said to yourself, ‘yeah, I’ll take his ear’, and you certainly aren’t the guy sitting here, holding what he earned in his arms, after some little fucking amoeba had the nerve to strike while his pants were literally down.”
Marco spit in the sand.
“No, you’re the guy who thought he could be opportunistic with the wrong fucking person, multiple times apparently, all because people laughed at you! That’s your whole fucking reason for this shit?!”
Marco stood up, holding his chainsaw under his arm. He clapped, laughing an angry laugh. “You know why people laugh at you? Because you’re a fucking joke. You always were one, but nobody saw it until then when you decided to be more retarded than the legitimately retarded kid who beat you.”
Marco was pacing back and forth now. “Oh, oh! Wanna hear another joke? The only reason you’re not dead right now, is because keeping you alive from here on is more punishment than whatever I can come up with! Not even just for you, but the fact that your spineless, shriveled up husk of a body hasn’t collapsed in on itself from the weight of the bullshit within it, is proof that God’s evil, and he’s got an even more fucked up sense of humor than me, by granting you your existence and not smiting it immediately when he saw the abomination he made! You’re literally the equivalent of God taking a shit, taking a picture of it, and then tweeting it! You’re a human SHITPOST!”
Marco turned to the side and screamed. Just a long guttural roar that turned his face red, and made his vision go all starry as he was hit with the conflicting emotions that consisted of the urge to kill and the urge to let Lucas live in the knowledge he’d torment someone else.
Marco sighed, having vented enough. This was the biggest fucking letdown of his life. He turned to look back at the amoeba who didn’t rate a name anymore. “You’re literally worse than Arjen...”
Lucas had rolled back onto his back during Marco’s tirade. His hands were lying over his face. He was trying not to cry, because this was not the first time he’d heard this sort of thing. It had come in bits before, all the affirmations of how his classmates saw him. All the barbs he could look back on and remember why he’d agreed with that scrawl in the dirt. Marco wasn’t saying anything new, or intelligent, he was just saying it all at once. He was a fucking retard. He wasn’t worth crying over. None of them were.
He inhaled sharply. It had distracted him quite thoroughly from the ache in his testicles, at least momentarily. The feeling of relief was still there, but it had been reduced. The words still stung, even if they were worthless.
He pulled his hands from his face, letting them drop to his sides. He lay there a moment longer, before slowly getting up to a sitting position, and looking at Marco.
“You got fucked over by one guy, on one day. I was fucked over by everyone, people who’d never met me before, for half a year. I tried to actually help people get off this fucking island, and people laughed at me and beat the shit out of me. That’s what happened to me, by the way.” ‘you fucking whiny retard’ he kept to himself, as he couldn’t be bothered to insult Marco anymore. He got up to his feet, in a clumsy fashion.
“I don’t know who the fuck Arjen is but I guess you already dealt with him. Maybe he was that fucking mess over by the yacht, for all I know. But you don’t have any beef to settle any more. You want to kill everyone? Fine. I don’t give a fuck. I want you to cut people to pieces. But don’t act like you have a reason, like I do.”
He stared at Marco, trying not to shake. All the adrenaline had ran out, and now he was relying on willpower to not be overcome with fear. The chainsaw right there, not with him but with Marco still ready to hack and slash. He’d given Marco every reason to use it. Lucas didn’t know if he could outrun Marco, even if he was carrying that thing, and as much as Lucas didn’t care, he didn’t want this fuckface to be the one who killed him. He didn’t want to die by being cut up by a chainsaw either, especially not before he’d even scored one good win. He had a lot to do still. He did have to prove that he wasn't a joke, after all.
But he would never take his words back. He was right; he had a good reason to hate everyone. Marco was just fucking crazy.
He took a step backwards.
He inhaled sharply. It had distracted him quite thoroughly from the ache in his testicles, at least momentarily. The feeling of relief was still there, but it had been reduced. The words still stung, even if they were worthless.
He pulled his hands from his face, letting them drop to his sides. He lay there a moment longer, before slowly getting up to a sitting position, and looking at Marco.
“You got fucked over by one guy, on one day. I was fucked over by everyone, people who’d never met me before, for half a year. I tried to actually help people get off this fucking island, and people laughed at me and beat the shit out of me. That’s what happened to me, by the way.” ‘you fucking whiny retard’ he kept to himself, as he couldn’t be bothered to insult Marco anymore. He got up to his feet, in a clumsy fashion.
“I don’t know who the fuck Arjen is but I guess you already dealt with him. Maybe he was that fucking mess over by the yacht, for all I know. But you don’t have any beef to settle any more. You want to kill everyone? Fine. I don’t give a fuck. I want you to cut people to pieces. But don’t act like you have a reason, like I do.”
He stared at Marco, trying not to shake. All the adrenaline had ran out, and now he was relying on willpower to not be overcome with fear. The chainsaw right there, not with him but with Marco still ready to hack and slash. He’d given Marco every reason to use it. Lucas didn’t know if he could outrun Marco, even if he was carrying that thing, and as much as Lucas didn’t care, he didn’t want this fuckface to be the one who killed him. He didn’t want to die by being cut up by a chainsaw either, especially not before he’d even scored one good win. He had a lot to do still. He did have to prove that he wasn't a joke, after all.
But he would never take his words back. He was right; he had a good reason to hate everyone. Marco was just fucking crazy.
He took a step backwards.
“You tried to help people?” Marco tilted his head. This was different. This was a different story than what he was telling previously. Marco was tracking. He didn’t say anything, he listened. He listened to his insults, to his hopes that’d he’d go on and kill more people. He listened to his voice, he heard what he was saying.
Marco knew who bullshitted and who didn’t. He heard it in Arjen’s voice, in Carl’s. He heard it in that glory hound, Ariana’s voice back at that party. He didn’t hear it in Adonis, or Colin. He knew what bullshit sounded like. He could smell it on their breath from a mile away.
Lucas was genuine. For the first time in the history of history, a politician didn’t lie. Marco understood Lucas’s words. He felt them. Lucas stepped back. Marco raised his free hand. “Wait.”
“Wait...”
“You didn’t say anything about helping people before. You didn’t say you got jumped for trying to help people either.”
Marco nodded, and opened his bad eye, showing Lucas the damage. “I believe you. I hope you believe me when I say I know all too well what happens when you try to help people.”
Marco brushed his hand through his own hair. “You try to do the right thing, and you get spit on. You think you can trust someone, and they stab you right in the back, then laugh about it. People you thought were your friends turn on you in the blink of an eye if it benefits them. I know that feeling all too well, and I know the feeling of everyone doing everything in their power to keep you down.”
Marco smiled as non-threateningly as he could considering the circumstances. “I also know how it feels to move up from it, and to rise above it, above them. You got me wrong. I don’t want to cut down everyone on my way to the top, I want to cut down everyone IN my way.”
Marco extended his arm out to Lucas, setting his chainsaw down on the ground by his feet. “Now that I’m putting the story together, I understand you, I really do. I also understand what you want, what you need. I believe you Lucas. You just need a push in the right direction.”
“Where you’re at now, you’re not going to make it. Nobody goes far by helping people, you’re doing nothing but stroking your own ego and looking for pity if you spend your last days alive trying to help those that don’t appreciate it, that don’t deserve it. They see you as a joke and as a tool, because to them that’s all you exist to do, to serve their purpose. Why do that, when you can take what you want, and serve your own purpose. Fuck these hypocrites! They’d do the same to you! Why should you, why should we have to give ourselves up for ‘the greater good’ when all the greater good means is them?”
Marco pounded his chest.
“Fuck the greater good, be like Caligula. Do what you want, kill who you want. Who’s going to stop you when you rule the world! Everything you ever learned is pointless now, our only world is this island now. That’s all we know, and it’s all we will know. It’s a man made apocalypse, a teenage wasteland! Nothing is given here, only earned. You want respect? You want get it through pity, it’s only fear here. I can grant you that...”
Marco looked at his hand, then at Lucas. “Lucas, lemme ask you sum’n...”
“Do you wanna make a deal with The Devil?”
Marco knew who bullshitted and who didn’t. He heard it in Arjen’s voice, in Carl’s. He heard it in that glory hound, Ariana’s voice back at that party. He didn’t hear it in Adonis, or Colin. He knew what bullshit sounded like. He could smell it on their breath from a mile away.
Lucas was genuine. For the first time in the history of history, a politician didn’t lie. Marco understood Lucas’s words. He felt them. Lucas stepped back. Marco raised his free hand. “Wait.”
“Wait...”
“You didn’t say anything about helping people before. You didn’t say you got jumped for trying to help people either.”
Marco nodded, and opened his bad eye, showing Lucas the damage. “I believe you. I hope you believe me when I say I know all too well what happens when you try to help people.”
Marco brushed his hand through his own hair. “You try to do the right thing, and you get spit on. You think you can trust someone, and they stab you right in the back, then laugh about it. People you thought were your friends turn on you in the blink of an eye if it benefits them. I know that feeling all too well, and I know the feeling of everyone doing everything in their power to keep you down.”
Marco smiled as non-threateningly as he could considering the circumstances. “I also know how it feels to move up from it, and to rise above it, above them. You got me wrong. I don’t want to cut down everyone on my way to the top, I want to cut down everyone IN my way.”
Marco extended his arm out to Lucas, setting his chainsaw down on the ground by his feet. “Now that I’m putting the story together, I understand you, I really do. I also understand what you want, what you need. I believe you Lucas. You just need a push in the right direction.”
“Where you’re at now, you’re not going to make it. Nobody goes far by helping people, you’re doing nothing but stroking your own ego and looking for pity if you spend your last days alive trying to help those that don’t appreciate it, that don’t deserve it. They see you as a joke and as a tool, because to them that’s all you exist to do, to serve their purpose. Why do that, when you can take what you want, and serve your own purpose. Fuck these hypocrites! They’d do the same to you! Why should you, why should we have to give ourselves up for ‘the greater good’ when all the greater good means is them?”
Marco pounded his chest.
“Fuck the greater good, be like Caligula. Do what you want, kill who you want. Who’s going to stop you when you rule the world! Everything you ever learned is pointless now, our only world is this island now. That’s all we know, and it’s all we will know. It’s a man made apocalypse, a teenage wasteland! Nothing is given here, only earned. You want respect? You want get it through pity, it’s only fear here. I can grant you that...”
Marco looked at his hand, then at Lucas. “Lucas, lemme ask you sum’n...”
“Do you wanna make a deal with The Devil?”
Lucas folded his arms, not moving any closer to Marco.
“No.” he said, trying to look a lot more stoic than he felt. What kind of maniac would ally with someone after they’d practically ripped their testicles off, in the middle of trying to chop them to pieces, while he was still holding the chainsaw?
More than that, he didn’t need Marco validating him. Marco was fucking crazy. He was killing everyone because of one bad day. Lucas had resolved to kill everyone because of six months of trauma. Their situations were completely different.
He was also a fucking prick. The living shitpost comment had not been forgotten after half a minute of attempted sympathy. And Lucas had always been trying to help people: that’s why he’d ran for student president in the first place. If Marco only realised that now, after one off-hand remark, then he was an even bigger prick. Unlike the one between his legs he was getting very tired of trying not to look at any more. He could almost feel it in his hand still. He wished he couldn’t.
He didn’t need to team up with Marco. He could finish this by himself. He could make everyone suffer on his own. Even if he didn’t team up with Marco, Marco would no doubt do a lot of his work for him.
“I’m doing this my way. You do it yours.”
“No.” he said, trying to look a lot more stoic than he felt. What kind of maniac would ally with someone after they’d practically ripped their testicles off, in the middle of trying to chop them to pieces, while he was still holding the chainsaw?
More than that, he didn’t need Marco validating him. Marco was fucking crazy. He was killing everyone because of one bad day. Lucas had resolved to kill everyone because of six months of trauma. Their situations were completely different.
He was also a fucking prick. The living shitpost comment had not been forgotten after half a minute of attempted sympathy. And Lucas had always been trying to help people: that’s why he’d ran for student president in the first place. If Marco only realised that now, after one off-hand remark, then he was an even bigger prick. Unlike the one between his legs he was getting very tired of trying not to look at any more. He could almost feel it in his hand still. He wished he couldn’t.
He didn’t need to team up with Marco. He could finish this by himself. He could make everyone suffer on his own. Even if he didn’t team up with Marco, Marco would no doubt do a lot of his work for him.
“I’m doing this my way. You do it yours.”