Violet seemed to be getting upset. And yet she still seemed unwilling to pull the trigger on him. That was, at the very least, a bit reassuring. He was taking a gambit, antagonizing someone who was pointing a gun at him, and even if it seemed that his intent to sow a bit of discord in their midst seemed to not be paying off, at least he could take comfort in the fact that he had judged correctly that Violet wouldn’t have the stones to make a conscious decision to fire at him. Dante had been an accidental fire on her part, as she stated, but a misfire didn’t make a killer, and that made all Violet’s rhetoric nothing but hot air. Her threats were empty, and even if he was forced to leave the situation, he still could count this as a win.
Blaise went off a bit, and Lorenzo couldn’t take them seriously. They really thought this was a bunch of laughs, didn’t they. It was hard to imagine having that kind of attitude in a situation like this. Lorenzo was no stranger to not really giving too much of a fuck in life, and that's why he and Blaise has always gotten on, but not giving a fuck here was paramount to writing your own suicide note, and Blaise not understanding or realizing that made them look pathetic and stupid.
When he inevitably heard their name among the list of the dead he’d try and remember them fondly.
Camila chimed in with an idiotic remark. Oh yes, just don’t turn his back, that solved EVERYTHING. Because a bullet can only hit you when you were turned around. When he said ‘turn his back’ he was using it as a figure of speech. For someone who went around pretending she was smarter than everyone else she really ended up being just another stupid bitch. He was almost disappointed.
There was some whispering at the pier, and Lorenzo felt his patience wear thin. He was at the point where he felt like he wouldn’t get any further, so perhaps leaving and moving on really was for the best. Before he could make up his mind, the sound of footsteps in the sand behind him caught his attention, and he turned his head to get a look.Lorenzo’s eyes opened wide. He instinctively brought his hand down to the maul and popped the clasp holding it in its sheath.
Fucking Tyrell Lahti had arrived.
He turned around completely and shouted back to the pier group.
“We got company kids.” His voice shook a bit as he stared down the taller boy.
Ty was closing in, and Lorenzo felt a twinge of fear. He’d almost forgotten about Ty. He was here too, and last time they spoke hadn’t been the most pleasant experience. Lorenzo took half a step back and pulled the maul out, brandishing it against the oncoming tank of a human. He hadn’t really expected to have to confront Tyrell on the island, or at least, not on day one. There was always the lingering hope someone else would put the scarred franken-teen out of his misery well before Lorenzo would ever have the chance to see his smug-looking face again. Unfortunately it didn’t seem like that was the case.
“I’d stay back if I were you. Violet’s got a gun and she’s a bit trigger-happy.” He held the maul with both hands and gripped it as if his life depended on it.
After all, it very well might.
Starting Point for G007
[Open]
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MethodicalSlacker
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"Who's we?"
Violet tightened her grip on the gun and furrowed her brow.
"This guy looks really mad with you, specifically, Lorenzo," she said, "and, um, I wanna know why that is."
Big tall scary dude's sudden appearance had startled Violet a good deal, to be fair. He was trudging in her general direction with a crowbar, after all, and if anything was a clear sign of some form of aggression it'd be just that. However, Violet quickly saw that in his eyes there was infernal passion that burned from only one source of fuel; to be less obtuse, he looked really angry with Lorenzo alone.
The words of Camila and Blaise hadn't fallen on deaf ears. She didn't really know what Blaise was capable of, but they were close enough that they could at least try to strangle Violet. Camila suggested a warning shot, but hellfire hater-man showed up before Violet could put that plan into action. The idea that Violet wasn't going to keep her threat, though? Not one that she wanted to entertain. It was a simple rule of the law of attraction that in order to make desired outcomes more likely one had to think only of how they'd feel afterwards and then send that intent out into the universe. Violet filled her mind with the sensation of relief, and then cast it off and away, focusing intently on the scene before her instead of the scene five minutes into the future.
She looked over at Gordon Freeman again.
"I'm not a trigger happy," she explained, "this, um, thing with Dante was an accident."
Violet tightened her grip on the gun and furrowed her brow.
"This guy looks really mad with you, specifically, Lorenzo," she said, "and, um, I wanna know why that is."
Big tall scary dude's sudden appearance had startled Violet a good deal, to be fair. He was trudging in her general direction with a crowbar, after all, and if anything was a clear sign of some form of aggression it'd be just that. However, Violet quickly saw that in his eyes there was infernal passion that burned from only one source of fuel; to be less obtuse, he looked really angry with Lorenzo alone.
The words of Camila and Blaise hadn't fallen on deaf ears. She didn't really know what Blaise was capable of, but they were close enough that they could at least try to strangle Violet. Camila suggested a warning shot, but hellfire hater-man showed up before Violet could put that plan into action. The idea that Violet wasn't going to keep her threat, though? Not one that she wanted to entertain. It was a simple rule of the law of attraction that in order to make desired outcomes more likely one had to think only of how they'd feel afterwards and then send that intent out into the universe. Violet filled her mind with the sensation of relief, and then cast it off and away, focusing intently on the scene before her instead of the scene five minutes into the future.
She looked over at Gordon Freeman again.
"I'm not a trigger happy," she explained, "this, um, thing with Dante was an accident."
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Latin For Dragula
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Blaise had not been entirely honest. Their tone might have implied they did not believe Violet and Lorenzo could hurt each other, and while this was by design it was also uncharacteristically optimistic. They couldn't imagine Violet ventilating Lorenzo as he walked away anymore than they could imagine him splitting her skull open as soon as she lowered her gun. A shot to wound, though? A vicious beatdown for vengeance or profit? Both were feasible, which is why they made such a show of retiring. They were naive, no threat, and not in the immediate path of either aggressor. Whether their performance bridged the tension or strained it to its breaking point, they were no longer involved, and they could clean up whatever damage was left in the aftermath. Things would not go so far that they couldn't all walk away.
They were certain of that until Tyrell Lahti came into view. His pace was methodical, his weapon ready, and his eyes? God. Those eyes. The man knew nothing of a poker face but they were not going to be the one to criticize him. Lorenzo spoke of we, and Violet stole the words from their mouth before they could give more than a harsh chuckle in response. There was no we in this equation, Lorenzo had already made that quite clear with his bickering. Still, they were fond of him, and Tyrell's rage promised unspeakable results. They were irritated and there was no logical reason to insert themself, but they had no desire to see Lorenzo beaten to death just a few feet away from them. No, that would be over the line even for them. So did the only thing they could think of to prevent such an outcome.
They looked away.
They were certain of that until Tyrell Lahti came into view. His pace was methodical, his weapon ready, and his eyes? God. Those eyes. The man knew nothing of a poker face but they were not going to be the one to criticize him. Lorenzo spoke of we, and Violet stole the words from their mouth before they could give more than a harsh chuckle in response. There was no we in this equation, Lorenzo had already made that quite clear with his bickering. Still, they were fond of him, and Tyrell's rage promised unspeakable results. They were irritated and there was no logical reason to insert themself, but they had no desire to see Lorenzo beaten to death just a few feet away from them. No, that would be over the line even for them. So did the only thing they could think of to prevent such an outcome.
They looked away.
For a brief and infinitely long moment of the hand bigger than her own fading away, she thought the flirt gone. She might have panicked, she felt that moment of grief well up. That moment passed, empty, and Camila felt all the more humbly stupid than these proceedings had already rendered her- for having allowed herself to become entangled into his fate, and into his fight. She could have cut her losses, should have, if she were listening to her own honed instinct.
Too much noise to the contrary. He- yet another potential belligerent, to say nothing of Lorenzo, to say nothing of how little Camila could actually trust anyone else standing or otherwise on this pier- was familiar. In the rare instance she'd chosen to listen they'd said he was the fighting sort.
So be it, so long as that fight didn't involve the injured and the defenseless.
A moment's longer consideration, just to confirm. The tall one could deal with this herself too. She had the gun. Camila would stay wary though. Much to split her attention: the flirt's faint flutter of life, the tall one's dubious readiness.
Staying alert, looking for a way out.
Too much noise to the contrary. He- yet another potential belligerent, to say nothing of Lorenzo, to say nothing of how little Camila could actually trust anyone else standing or otherwise on this pier- was familiar. In the rare instance she'd chosen to listen they'd said he was the fighting sort.
So be it, so long as that fight didn't involve the injured and the defenseless.
A moment's longer consideration, just to confirm. The tall one could deal with this herself too. She had the gun. Camila would stay wary though. Much to split her attention: the flirt's faint flutter of life, the tall one's dubious readiness.
Staying alert, looking for a way out.
Ty continued walking towards Lorenzo, stopping only when he turned around and directed the attention of the others to him. At this point, he was only a few yards away. Lorenzo wasn't stupid; before long Ty saw him draw what looked like a cross between an axe and a sledgehammer. At a distance he'd seen the handle hanging from his belt, but hadn't gotten a complete picture of what actually was.
Too dangerous to ignore. That'll change things.
Slipping off the duffle bag and letting it fall to the sand below, Ty stood still with only the crowbar wavering slightly at his side. With a closer look at the pier, he could only recognize a few members of the group. Violet Schmidt of the few girls at the school almost as tall as he was, and she was brandishing a rifle. The other two he didn't know, but they seemed fairly nonplussed as well. Dante looked like he'd found himself on the wrong end of a gun, and didn't appear to be moving.
I'm currently on the wrong end of it.
Explanations were both being asked for and halfheartedly given. Nothing about this was straightforward. Ty gritted his teeth, keenly aware of how much more complicated things were up close than he'd imagined. He briefly glanced at Violet, acknowledging her before returning his steady gaze to Lorenzo.
"I wouldn't expect you to want to hurt anyone, Violet. I believe you. And you're right, I am here to hurt him, specifically.He made a mistake. I know what kind of person he is now, and I know what has to happen. I don't know who's going to survive this; it's not gonna be me, and it can't be him. Not after what he's done."
Ty was incapable of hiding the vitriol in his voice, and made no effort to do so. It was hard to imagine that they'd ever been friends. It felt impossible to square with himself that he'd been such a poor judge of character that he'd let someone like Lorenzo get close to him, that he hadn't seen what was hiding beneath the surface. It poisoned so many good memories. The ones he'd be holding onto right now for comfort. It was something impossible to forget, impossible to ignore. He could scarcely imagine how Artem must've felt. It made Ty nauseous to think that he'd probably be watching this all unfold on the other side of a screen. Probably hoping someone would put Lorenzo down.
That's all anyone on the outside can do, though. Watch.
His gaze drifted to a small black box that had been fastened securely to a nearby post, that looked like it had maybe been part of the pier at some point. A camera lens glinted in the sun, no doubt focused on what was unfolding below. The next few words seemed to escape his lips before he'd known what he was going to say. It was too perfect to stop and think about.
"Actually, I do know one person who's definitely going to survive. Artem Fyodorov, you guys know him?"
Ty shot Lorenzo a cold smile, his eyes still unmoving. Annoyance had quickly given way to excitement and a keen awareness of the predatory nature his body language was betraying to the boy in front of him. Much as he was speaking to Lorenzo, he made sure to do so loudly enough that the others and the camera would hear it clearly.
"Funny, I didn't think of it like this at first. Like it's one of the worst things you could do to someone, but it probably saved his life. If you hadn't raped him after prom, he might've felt up for going on the senior trip.
Of course, then he would've been here with us. Do you figure that makes you guys even?"
Too dangerous to ignore. That'll change things.
Slipping off the duffle bag and letting it fall to the sand below, Ty stood still with only the crowbar wavering slightly at his side. With a closer look at the pier, he could only recognize a few members of the group. Violet Schmidt of the few girls at the school almost as tall as he was, and she was brandishing a rifle. The other two he didn't know, but they seemed fairly nonplussed as well. Dante looked like he'd found himself on the wrong end of a gun, and didn't appear to be moving.
I'm currently on the wrong end of it.
Explanations were both being asked for and halfheartedly given. Nothing about this was straightforward. Ty gritted his teeth, keenly aware of how much more complicated things were up close than he'd imagined. He briefly glanced at Violet, acknowledging her before returning his steady gaze to Lorenzo.
"I wouldn't expect you to want to hurt anyone, Violet. I believe you. And you're right, I am here to hurt him, specifically.He made a mistake. I know what kind of person he is now, and I know what has to happen. I don't know who's going to survive this; it's not gonna be me, and it can't be him. Not after what he's done."
Ty was incapable of hiding the vitriol in his voice, and made no effort to do so. It was hard to imagine that they'd ever been friends. It felt impossible to square with himself that he'd been such a poor judge of character that he'd let someone like Lorenzo get close to him, that he hadn't seen what was hiding beneath the surface. It poisoned so many good memories. The ones he'd be holding onto right now for comfort. It was something impossible to forget, impossible to ignore. He could scarcely imagine how Artem must've felt. It made Ty nauseous to think that he'd probably be watching this all unfold on the other side of a screen. Probably hoping someone would put Lorenzo down.
That's all anyone on the outside can do, though. Watch.
His gaze drifted to a small black box that had been fastened securely to a nearby post, that looked like it had maybe been part of the pier at some point. A camera lens glinted in the sun, no doubt focused on what was unfolding below. The next few words seemed to escape his lips before he'd known what he was going to say. It was too perfect to stop and think about.
"Actually, I do know one person who's definitely going to survive. Artem Fyodorov, you guys know him?"
Ty shot Lorenzo a cold smile, his eyes still unmoving. Annoyance had quickly given way to excitement and a keen awareness of the predatory nature his body language was betraying to the boy in front of him. Much as he was speaking to Lorenzo, he made sure to do so loudly enough that the others and the camera would hear it clearly.
"Funny, I didn't think of it like this at first. Like it's one of the worst things you could do to someone, but it probably saved his life. If you hadn't raped him after prom, he might've felt up for going on the senior trip.
Of course, then he would've been here with us. Do you figure that makes you guys even?"
Lorenzo flinched at the sheer malice dripping from every word coming out of Tyrell’s mouth. His half-baked hope that the pier kids would turn on Tyrell as they did with Lorenzo was a losing bet. He didn’t think they’d help him, but the fact that they didn’t lift a finger to even keep Ty at bay left a bad taste in his mouth. Ty was making it perfectly clear he was here to do harm, specifically to Lorenzo, and the bitch with the gun seemed more than willing to let that go for some reason. If he made it out of this situation with his life he’d find a way to beat that bitch to death for literally throwing him to the wolves.
Well, wolf, in this case.
Lorenzo felt his eye twitch when Ty mentioned Artem. His eyes opened wide in fear mixed with rage. He wouldn’t say it. Not here. Not with literally the entire world watching right now. A knot began to build in his stomach and a lump started to swell in his throat. He felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight, and a shiver go down his spine. Ty’s gaze drifted towards a nearby post, and Lorenzo followed his gaze.
A camera.
Lorenzo felt his heart beat faster, and tightened his grip even harder on the weapon in his hands, his scarred knuckles white as snow from the strain. The horrendous smile on Ty’s face lit up a rage inside him unlike any he’d ever experienced. He couldn’t do this. He had to stop him. Shut him up. Not let anyone know. His fucking sisters could be watching! His mother! His father! What would they think?! What would people say to them? Think of them? His whole reason for doing what he was doing was to come back to them so they wouldn’t have to suffer. He had to stop anything else from spilling from Tyrell’s dirty traitor mouth.
But it happened anyway.
In a blink and you’d miss it moment, all of Lorenzo’s dirty laundry had been exposed for the entire world to hear. He said it so plainly, so nonchalantly, that Lorenzo thought he may have misheard him at first. But no. No, Ty had said it loud and clear; painted Lorenzo red with the R-word carved into his chest. Lorenzo stared at him, mouth agape, eyes wide and pupils narrow with sheer disbelief. But that wasn’t all that was behind his eyes. Behind the shock and confusion burned a white hot rage, that burst forth, decimating all other thoughts and actions from his mind sans one.
KILL HIM.
“Shut up! Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup!”
Lorenzo screamed with a wild and animalistic fury as he lunged forward at Tyrell. He swung the maul in a panicked rage over and over again, with no regard for where he was aiming or what the people behind him would think of his attack. All he knew was that Tyrell had to die now, before he had the chance to say one more word about Artem where his family could hear him.
Well, wolf, in this case.
Lorenzo felt his eye twitch when Ty mentioned Artem. His eyes opened wide in fear mixed with rage. He wouldn’t say it. Not here. Not with literally the entire world watching right now. A knot began to build in his stomach and a lump started to swell in his throat. He felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight, and a shiver go down his spine. Ty’s gaze drifted towards a nearby post, and Lorenzo followed his gaze.
A camera.
Lorenzo felt his heart beat faster, and tightened his grip even harder on the weapon in his hands, his scarred knuckles white as snow from the strain. The horrendous smile on Ty’s face lit up a rage inside him unlike any he’d ever experienced. He couldn’t do this. He had to stop him. Shut him up. Not let anyone know. His fucking sisters could be watching! His mother! His father! What would they think?! What would people say to them? Think of them? His whole reason for doing what he was doing was to come back to them so they wouldn’t have to suffer. He had to stop anything else from spilling from Tyrell’s dirty traitor mouth.
But it happened anyway.
In a blink and you’d miss it moment, all of Lorenzo’s dirty laundry had been exposed for the entire world to hear. He said it so plainly, so nonchalantly, that Lorenzo thought he may have misheard him at first. But no. No, Ty had said it loud and clear; painted Lorenzo red with the R-word carved into his chest. Lorenzo stared at him, mouth agape, eyes wide and pupils narrow with sheer disbelief. But that wasn’t all that was behind his eyes. Behind the shock and confusion burned a white hot rage, that burst forth, decimating all other thoughts and actions from his mind sans one.
KILL HIM.
“Shut up! Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup!”
Lorenzo screamed with a wild and animalistic fury as he lunged forward at Tyrell. He swung the maul in a panicked rage over and over again, with no regard for where he was aiming or what the people behind him would think of his attack. All he knew was that Tyrell had to die now, before he had the chance to say one more word about Artem where his family could hear him.
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MethodicalSlacker
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Violet didn't consider herself a victim.
It was easy for people to see her that way, she realized. Especially her family, who knew the genesis of her trauma, the start of her pain, and the way it blossomed and moved and never went away, always lingering on the surface of her skin. It was convenient for them to see her in the same light that they saw others like her—as a helpless, wounded animal that couldn't even touch other people without going catatonic for a while. They saw things as more debilitating for her than they actually were. She wasn't angry with Dana anymore. The Dana that did it to her was gone. It wasn't even ever Dana to begin with. It was some child that didn't know any better, with parents that could not have known what she was capable of. They had moved on, interpersonally. Violet really liked her sister, she really did. Love wasn't the right word, but she really felt closely to her. That wasn't something a victim did, she thought.
None of this applied to Artem, if Tyrell was telling the truth.
Artem was sweet and lovable and kind. He liked video games and the occult and other nerdy and dorky things and didn't know his left from his right half the time. He was small, and that wasn't even by her standards. Frail, too. Lorenzo was big and strong, and the rage in his eyes as he charged Tyrell made it very easy to picture him hurting Artem in a serious way, let alone in that specific way. Artem wasn't a slightly smaller little girl subjected to the innocent but unrestrained torment of a slightly larger little girl, no. Artem was a grown boy likely violently abused and hurt by a much larger grown man, and that made things entirely different.
Her hands shook briefly before she tensed her fingers around the gun to keep it from wobbling into the wrong place. Wet hot tears flowed from her eyes down her reddened cheeks to her mouth, filled with gritting, bared teeth, but she was not sobbing, nor sniffling. This time, the tears traced out their path down her face silently.
"You fucking monster," Violet growled, aiming the rifle at Lorenzo's head.
She wasn't used to feeling this angry. Hate was an emotion she tried to keep from her mind, most of the time, but now she let it flow freely, a wave of red aura spreading in tangled veiny spiderwebs through the fabric of her entire being. Lorenzo thought he was in control, here? He thought that he could fucking run this shitshow? She had the gun. He was caught in a web. Her web. There was no escaping her sight. Not if he was deciding to rush down Tyrell like that, like a fucking idiot. Doing that, instead of running into the woods far, far away from her? Just getting himself more stuck that was. She gave him chances to untangle himself from her sticky silk. So, so many chances. Violet was in control. Not him. Never him. Only her. Her reach was infinite. On her back, sable with malice, her aura took the outline of an hourglass, gules with righteous anger.
Violet flicked off the safety and trained her sights on Lorenzo as he ran towards Tyrell. She'd let this play out for a little while. Give him hope? Let him experience pain. Tyrell'd play with her food. If he started losing, or if she got bored, It didn't matter. She had the fucking gun. They were tangled in her web. They couldn't touch her.
Lorenzo was in spider-land now.
Her spider-land.
It was easy for people to see her that way, she realized. Especially her family, who knew the genesis of her trauma, the start of her pain, and the way it blossomed and moved and never went away, always lingering on the surface of her skin. It was convenient for them to see her in the same light that they saw others like her—as a helpless, wounded animal that couldn't even touch other people without going catatonic for a while. They saw things as more debilitating for her than they actually were. She wasn't angry with Dana anymore. The Dana that did it to her was gone. It wasn't even ever Dana to begin with. It was some child that didn't know any better, with parents that could not have known what she was capable of. They had moved on, interpersonally. Violet really liked her sister, she really did. Love wasn't the right word, but she really felt closely to her. That wasn't something a victim did, she thought.
None of this applied to Artem, if Tyrell was telling the truth.
Artem was sweet and lovable and kind. He liked video games and the occult and other nerdy and dorky things and didn't know his left from his right half the time. He was small, and that wasn't even by her standards. Frail, too. Lorenzo was big and strong, and the rage in his eyes as he charged Tyrell made it very easy to picture him hurting Artem in a serious way, let alone in that specific way. Artem wasn't a slightly smaller little girl subjected to the innocent but unrestrained torment of a slightly larger little girl, no. Artem was a grown boy likely violently abused and hurt by a much larger grown man, and that made things entirely different.
Her hands shook briefly before she tensed her fingers around the gun to keep it from wobbling into the wrong place. Wet hot tears flowed from her eyes down her reddened cheeks to her mouth, filled with gritting, bared teeth, but she was not sobbing, nor sniffling. This time, the tears traced out their path down her face silently.
"You fucking monster," Violet growled, aiming the rifle at Lorenzo's head.
She wasn't used to feeling this angry. Hate was an emotion she tried to keep from her mind, most of the time, but now she let it flow freely, a wave of red aura spreading in tangled veiny spiderwebs through the fabric of her entire being. Lorenzo thought he was in control, here? He thought that he could fucking run this shitshow? She had the gun. He was caught in a web. Her web. There was no escaping her sight. Not if he was deciding to rush down Tyrell like that, like a fucking idiot. Doing that, instead of running into the woods far, far away from her? Just getting himself more stuck that was. She gave him chances to untangle himself from her sticky silk. So, so many chances. Violet was in control. Not him. Never him. Only her. Her reach was infinite. On her back, sable with malice, her aura took the outline of an hourglass, gules with righteous anger.
Violet flicked off the safety and trained her sights on Lorenzo as he ran towards Tyrell. She'd let this play out for a little while. Give him hope? Let him experience pain. Tyrell'd play with her food. If he started losing, or if she got bored, It didn't matter. She had the fucking gun. They were tangled in her web. They couldn't touch her.
Lorenzo was in spider-land now.
Her spider-land.
Lorenzo took the bait, just as Ty had hoped he would. More than that, the way Lorenzo reacted only confirmed that Ty had been telling the truth; both to the pier, and to the rest of the world. Though he was disappointed in not seeing or hearing a gunshot in his general direction, the satisfaction of seeing Lorenzo completely lose his shit was enough.
You already lost.
As the other boy rushed at him, Ty scrambled backwards. The first swing was close, and he tried to bat it away with the crowbar. The weight of the maul knocked it aside easily, and he only just stumbled out of the way. There was no easy way to parry something like this. The sand made sure no step was steady, but it wasn’t difficult to adjust and regain his footing. It was easy enough to see Lorenzo winding up for another swipe.
You always ran hot. I don’t.
Unfortunately for Lorenzo. Stepping laterally in the direction of Lorenzo’s swing, Tyrell swung the crowbar towards his arm. It was a short motion, not unlike a jab. The kind of strike one might use to coax an opponent into making a mistake, but not expressly designed to cause much damage. At least, that would’ve been the case had he not been using a crowbar. Regardless, it was hard to commit much power to a strike at this distance, but that was precisely what Ty was hoping Lorenzo would do in response: over-commit.
Make another mistake.
You already lost.
As the other boy rushed at him, Ty scrambled backwards. The first swing was close, and he tried to bat it away with the crowbar. The weight of the maul knocked it aside easily, and he only just stumbled out of the way. There was no easy way to parry something like this. The sand made sure no step was steady, but it wasn’t difficult to adjust and regain his footing. It was easy enough to see Lorenzo winding up for another swipe.
You always ran hot. I don’t.
Unfortunately for Lorenzo. Stepping laterally in the direction of Lorenzo’s swing, Tyrell swung the crowbar towards his arm. It was a short motion, not unlike a jab. The kind of strike one might use to coax an opponent into making a mistake, but not expressly designed to cause much damage. At least, that would’ve been the case had he not been using a crowbar. Regardless, it was hard to commit much power to a strike at this distance, but that was precisely what Ty was hoping Lorenzo would do in response: over-commit.
Make another mistake.
Lorenzo swung over and over, but Tyrell managed to barely escape his wrath time and again. The maul was heavy in his hands, and he felt himself being propelled forward with every swing he took. It didn’t matter though. He didn’t care how close he was getting to Tyrell’s reach, in fact he didn’t waste a second thinking about it. No, the only thing his brain kept screaming at him was to bury that maul as deep as he could into Tyrell’s skull. All he needed was one good shot, and he’d do it. He’d make Tyrell curse the day he decided to abandon him in his time of need and treat him like a monster.
His fault… Tyrell’s fault he was playing the monster now.
Lorenzo’s last swing missed Tyrell by a large margin, with the bigger teen sidestepping the attack with apparent ease. Lorenzo could feel the muscles in his arms straining, growing more tired with each swing of the heavy maul. Didn’t matter… had to keep it up. Before he could lift the maul again or think about his next move, he felt a sudden rush of pain coming from the bicep of his left arm. Lorenzo felt himself crumple a bit, and he snapped his eyes over to his arm in time to see the hook of the crowbar disconnecting from his upper arm where Tyrell had hit him with it.
At first the pain was dull and seemed okay. Then, as if spurred on by his vision taking it in, it suddenly bloomed into a searing white hot pain that traveled down the length of his arm and up into his left shoulder. He let out a yelp as he recoiled from the invasive crowbar, and pivoted on his heel to make sure he was facing his opponent, maul held in his right hand as his left arm hung limply and painfully at his side. He could move his fingers, which was a good sign, but moving the arm sent a shot of pain directly to his brain every time he tried. It didn’t feel broken or anything, thankfully, but it still hurt like a bitch. He had to power through the pain, because he was facing a titan right now, and being down an arm would be a severe disadvantage.
One thing the pain succeeded in doing, luckily, was clearing his head. He was being too rash. He had to be more careful. Another misstep like that could mean the end for him. He shot a glance over to the pier and saw that Violet’s gun was still pointed directly at him. Fuck. She hadn’t made to fire it yet, but that clock was counting down fast if he didn’t figure out a way to turn this all around. He snapped his gaze back to Tyrell. He had to think about the enemy in front of him for right now, he couldn’t waste time worried about what Violet was going to do.
He needed to make Ty angry and stupid, just like he’d done to him.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You don’t know anything.” He spat.
“You have the nerve to talk about things that have nothing to do with you like you know. You just want an excuse to do what you want. I get that.” He grinned with wild eyes.
“You and me, we’re the same thing. Two monsters who gave in to the voice inside saying it’s okay!”
As he shouted at him, Lorenzo suddenly tightened his grip on the maul, and swung it in an upwards arc, hoping to crack Tyrell in the chin with the hammer.
His fault… Tyrell’s fault he was playing the monster now.
Lorenzo’s last swing missed Tyrell by a large margin, with the bigger teen sidestepping the attack with apparent ease. Lorenzo could feel the muscles in his arms straining, growing more tired with each swing of the heavy maul. Didn’t matter… had to keep it up. Before he could lift the maul again or think about his next move, he felt a sudden rush of pain coming from the bicep of his left arm. Lorenzo felt himself crumple a bit, and he snapped his eyes over to his arm in time to see the hook of the crowbar disconnecting from his upper arm where Tyrell had hit him with it.
At first the pain was dull and seemed okay. Then, as if spurred on by his vision taking it in, it suddenly bloomed into a searing white hot pain that traveled down the length of his arm and up into his left shoulder. He let out a yelp as he recoiled from the invasive crowbar, and pivoted on his heel to make sure he was facing his opponent, maul held in his right hand as his left arm hung limply and painfully at his side. He could move his fingers, which was a good sign, but moving the arm sent a shot of pain directly to his brain every time he tried. It didn’t feel broken or anything, thankfully, but it still hurt like a bitch. He had to power through the pain, because he was facing a titan right now, and being down an arm would be a severe disadvantage.
One thing the pain succeeded in doing, luckily, was clearing his head. He was being too rash. He had to be more careful. Another misstep like that could mean the end for him. He shot a glance over to the pier and saw that Violet’s gun was still pointed directly at him. Fuck. She hadn’t made to fire it yet, but that clock was counting down fast if he didn’t figure out a way to turn this all around. He snapped his gaze back to Tyrell. He had to think about the enemy in front of him for right now, he couldn’t waste time worried about what Violet was going to do.
He needed to make Ty angry and stupid, just like he’d done to him.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You don’t know anything.” He spat.
“You have the nerve to talk about things that have nothing to do with you like you know. You just want an excuse to do what you want. I get that.” He grinned with wild eyes.
“You and me, we’re the same thing. Two monsters who gave in to the voice inside saying it’s okay!”
As he shouted at him, Lorenzo suddenly tightened his grip on the maul, and swung it in an upwards arc, hoping to crack Tyrell in the chin with the hammer.
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MethodicalSlacker
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Violet stared down at the two fighters from the pier, keeping her aim steady and true. Her position over them was almost like that of the demiurge. They swiped and scrapped with each other, while she watched and held the final word on whatever would happen. There was nothing they could do against her, wrapped up in each other like this. Maybe she was not a black widow, spinning a web. Maybe there was no distinction between web and spinner—maybe a better analogy would be quicksand. The more they struggled, the harder it would get for them to turn against her. Battered and injured and armed with sticks and stones and irons, what could they do before Violet got a shot off?
Tyrell's accusation of Lorenzo was the only thing keeping the both of them alive. Lorenzo, because he deserved to hurt, and Tyrell, because Violet couldn't do the hurting herself. He wasn't even in control of this fight. Look at him, almost taking injury like that! Violet was glad that she definitely didn't have any urge to run over and find herself unable to help him, because that would be terrible. She was in control. Her web. Her gun.
Maybe the web was a little too tangled. If she felt like it was the right time to shoot the gun, then she might hit Tyrell. They were all too close together, and she didn't have a good reason to shoot him yet. Oh, she could if she wanted to. All of this was her. All her.
She kept her aim true and waited impatiently for the right moment.
Tyrell's accusation of Lorenzo was the only thing keeping the both of them alive. Lorenzo, because he deserved to hurt, and Tyrell, because Violet couldn't do the hurting herself. He wasn't even in control of this fight. Look at him, almost taking injury like that! Violet was glad that she definitely didn't have any urge to run over and find herself unable to help him, because that would be terrible. She was in control. Her web. Her gun.
Maybe the web was a little too tangled. If she felt like it was the right time to shoot the gun, then she might hit Tyrell. They were all too close together, and she didn't have a good reason to shoot him yet. Oh, she could if she wanted to. All of this was her. All her.
She kept her aim true and waited impatiently for the right moment.
Lorenzo took the hit, and Ty saw with some satisfaction as the other boy winced in pain. The snap swing of the crowbar had done its job, at least insofar as giving him some breathing room from the maul. Ty stood back and watched, matching the other boy’s movements as they circled one another. It was clear to Ty that his opponent was continuing to deal with the physical pain, though the attempt to get under his skin had seemingly failed.
The fuck do you have to be confident about?
Then, because of course he did, Lorenzo started speaking. Ty held a stony gaze as accusations were thrown at him. Of being cut from the same cloth as this coward, taking advantage of SOTF to drop all pretense of morality and act on instinct. That was the point of all of this, wasn’t it? Some people thought that was what the terrorists were trying to prove, if anything.
You’re the one proving their point for them, not me.
Ty had never had to convince himself to follow his instincts, to do what was right even if his actions would seem immoral to others. There were unwritten rules that a human being ought to follow, and breaking them had to come with consequences. Most evil acts in the world went unanswered – the fact that they were the seventh group kidnapped was evidence enough of that. It wasn’t that no one else would think of killing Lorenzo - that was likely why Violet still had her gun trained on the both of them – but Ty actually did it. More importantly, he knew that Kate-
Artem.
He knew that there was no world in which Artem wasn’t hoping Lorenzo met some horrible end. Ty just happened to be the one who wasn’t too much of a coward to hold back.
“There is no excuse for what you’ve done. Killing a rapist, on the other ha-“
The momentary distraction of Lorenzo’s prattling caught Ty off guard, and he only noticed the other boy was moving towards him at the last moment. Without the opportunity to step away, Ty instead brought the crowbar down towards the axe head. The steel connected loudly, as he managed to catch the handle of the axe in the crook of the crowbar. Using the bar as leverage, he grabbed the handle of the maul and flung both weapons to the sand in a violent jerking motion. The movement threw Ty off balance, and he now stood mere inches away from Lorenzo.
The fuck do you have to be confident about?
Then, because of course he did, Lorenzo started speaking. Ty held a stony gaze as accusations were thrown at him. Of being cut from the same cloth as this coward, taking advantage of SOTF to drop all pretense of morality and act on instinct. That was the point of all of this, wasn’t it? Some people thought that was what the terrorists were trying to prove, if anything.
You’re the one proving their point for them, not me.
Ty had never had to convince himself to follow his instincts, to do what was right even if his actions would seem immoral to others. There were unwritten rules that a human being ought to follow, and breaking them had to come with consequences. Most evil acts in the world went unanswered – the fact that they were the seventh group kidnapped was evidence enough of that. It wasn’t that no one else would think of killing Lorenzo - that was likely why Violet still had her gun trained on the both of them – but Ty actually did it. More importantly, he knew that Kate-
Artem.
He knew that there was no world in which Artem wasn’t hoping Lorenzo met some horrible end. Ty just happened to be the one who wasn’t too much of a coward to hold back.
“There is no excuse for what you’ve done. Killing a rapist, on the other ha-“
The momentary distraction of Lorenzo’s prattling caught Ty off guard, and he only noticed the other boy was moving towards him at the last moment. Without the opportunity to step away, Ty instead brought the crowbar down towards the axe head. The steel connected loudly, as he managed to catch the handle of the axe in the crook of the crowbar. Using the bar as leverage, he grabbed the handle of the maul and flung both weapons to the sand in a violent jerking motion. The movement threw Ty off balance, and he now stood mere inches away from Lorenzo.
Lorenzo swung the maul upwards towards Ty’s face, hoping to sink in into his jawline and shut his dirty mouth for good. Unfortunately for Lorenzo, Tyrell wasn’t so easy a target, even being caught off-guard, and the bastard parried the swing with the crook of his crowbar. The sound the two metals made when they crashed together sent an awful shock through Lorenzo’s arm, and a sickening chill up his spine. He attempted to get his bearings and wind up for another swing, but when he pulled the maul back, Lorenzo found that the underside of his weapon had been entangled in Tyrell’s crowbar. Lorenzo’s eyes widened and he attempted to pull away harder, but Ty beat him to the punch ad ripped the weapon out of his hands, sending both of their weapons flying into the sand beside them, and leaving both boys unarmed.
Fight or flight kicked into high gear, and Lorenzo only ever chose one option.
Ty was in his face now, so Lorenzo took a step back and, putting as much power behind the strike as he was able to, launched a right hook aimed directly at the smug ass look on the taller boy’s face. When he felt his fist connect with Tyrell’s jaw it was almost orgasmic, and Lorenzo let out a scream that made his own toes curl as he attempted to force his punch directly through Ty’s face and out the back of his head.
Not willing to let up, Lorenzo followed the heavy hit with another hook, this time from his left, catching the other side of Ty’s jaw with a specially prepared knuckle sandwich. This punch hurt, though Lorenzo had too much adrenaline running through his veins to pay too much attention to it. His left arm was still aching from the shot Ty had landed a minute ago, and even the joy of planting his fist in Ty’s ugly mug didn’t stop him from gritting his teeth in agony.
It wasn’t enough though. He was still standing.
Lorenzo had to finish this before Ty could get a hit in. Ty was a beast, and Lorenzo knew that if he let up for even a second and gave Ty a chance to counterattack, it would all be over before he could blink. He couldn’t let himself be killed here. Not now! Using both hands, he grabbed Tyrell by his shoulders, and putting all his weight and every ounce of might he could muster behind it, set his left knee flying into the other boy’s gut, making sure it dug in deep.
"Eat it, Motherfucker!"
Fight or flight kicked into high gear, and Lorenzo only ever chose one option.
Ty was in his face now, so Lorenzo took a step back and, putting as much power behind the strike as he was able to, launched a right hook aimed directly at the smug ass look on the taller boy’s face. When he felt his fist connect with Tyrell’s jaw it was almost orgasmic, and Lorenzo let out a scream that made his own toes curl as he attempted to force his punch directly through Ty’s face and out the back of his head.
Not willing to let up, Lorenzo followed the heavy hit with another hook, this time from his left, catching the other side of Ty’s jaw with a specially prepared knuckle sandwich. This punch hurt, though Lorenzo had too much adrenaline running through his veins to pay too much attention to it. His left arm was still aching from the shot Ty had landed a minute ago, and even the joy of planting his fist in Ty’s ugly mug didn’t stop him from gritting his teeth in agony.
It wasn’t enough though. He was still standing.
Lorenzo had to finish this before Ty could get a hit in. Ty was a beast, and Lorenzo knew that if he let up for even a second and gave Ty a chance to counterattack, it would all be over before he could blink. He couldn’t let himself be killed here. Not now! Using both hands, he grabbed Tyrell by his shoulders, and putting all his weight and every ounce of might he could muster behind it, set his left knee flying into the other boy’s gut, making sure it dug in deep.
"Eat it, Motherfucker!"
Ty instinctively tensed his neck and rolled with the punches as best as he could; he wasn’t going to make it easy to land a square hit. Ty gritted his teeth as he felt the pain of the shrapnel cuts on his face opening back up. The characteristic metallic taste of blood returned to his mouth. Lorenzo didn’t know how to hit – at least, not properly – but he threw everything he had into those punches. It may have been a fair trade as opposed to getting an axe to the head, but it still hurt.
That first night at the hotel he’d tried to teach him some proper form, after watching Axel and Andy “fight.” At first he threw wild haymakers, but it didn’t take long for Lorenzo to adjust, to fix his form. Moreover, he was eager to. At the time, Ty had found that endearing. As he struggled to roll with the knee Lorenzo threw to his abdomen, it just seemed like some higher power was reminding him how much being in this kid’s confidence had been a major fuck up. Bile began to rise in his throat and he coughed bloody saliva onto the sand below.
The pain was easy enough to take. Anyone not sufficiently large or well trained wasn’t going to be able enough to knock him out, not without a weapon. It stung, and his vision blurred from the overstimulation and blood, but he was still standing. Of course, Lorenzo had to defend himself. If they were similar in any way, he couldn’t have expected him to go down easy. It was pain, but it was appropriate pain.
The incessant shit-talking and provocation though – that was childish and infuriating; the idea that Lorenzo somehow viewed them as equals, even more so. It was a stark reminder of just how much he didn’t seem to appreciate the situation they were all in, or what his role in it had to be. It was all already over for him. What was happening was a direct consequence of Lorenzo’s actions, and he had to own it. Whether he wanted to or not.
The only way to make this right is for you to die. You don’t have the decency to give up.
The taste and smell of blood was overwhelming. Ty let out a cry of unbridled rage, now well past any desire to toy with his quarry. Blocking the next wild swing, Ty threw a cross at the other boy’s face. It was open, obvious. Enough for Lorenzo to raise his arms to try and protect himself. As quickly as it happened, Ty didn’t notice whether or not he landed a glancing blow. His focus was elsewhere, as he rapidly loaded and threw a stabbing, vicious left hook to Lorenzo’s ribs. Another followed immediately afterwards and he could see Lorenzo starting to lose his footing. If that reaction was any indication, the blow had landed true and pummeled his liver.
Ty snarled as he aimed a heel kick in the direction of Lorenzo’s sternum, trying to send him sprawling to the sand. It would give Ty enough time to reach for one of the weapons, only a few feet behind them.
That first night at the hotel he’d tried to teach him some proper form, after watching Axel and Andy “fight.” At first he threw wild haymakers, but it didn’t take long for Lorenzo to adjust, to fix his form. Moreover, he was eager to. At the time, Ty had found that endearing. As he struggled to roll with the knee Lorenzo threw to his abdomen, it just seemed like some higher power was reminding him how much being in this kid’s confidence had been a major fuck up. Bile began to rise in his throat and he coughed bloody saliva onto the sand below.
The pain was easy enough to take. Anyone not sufficiently large or well trained wasn’t going to be able enough to knock him out, not without a weapon. It stung, and his vision blurred from the overstimulation and blood, but he was still standing. Of course, Lorenzo had to defend himself. If they were similar in any way, he couldn’t have expected him to go down easy. It was pain, but it was appropriate pain.
The incessant shit-talking and provocation though – that was childish and infuriating; the idea that Lorenzo somehow viewed them as equals, even more so. It was a stark reminder of just how much he didn’t seem to appreciate the situation they were all in, or what his role in it had to be. It was all already over for him. What was happening was a direct consequence of Lorenzo’s actions, and he had to own it. Whether he wanted to or not.
The only way to make this right is for you to die. You don’t have the decency to give up.
The taste and smell of blood was overwhelming. Ty let out a cry of unbridled rage, now well past any desire to toy with his quarry. Blocking the next wild swing, Ty threw a cross at the other boy’s face. It was open, obvious. Enough for Lorenzo to raise his arms to try and protect himself. As quickly as it happened, Ty didn’t notice whether or not he landed a glancing blow. His focus was elsewhere, as he rapidly loaded and threw a stabbing, vicious left hook to Lorenzo’s ribs. Another followed immediately afterwards and he could see Lorenzo starting to lose his footing. If that reaction was any indication, the blow had landed true and pummeled his liver.
Ty snarled as he aimed a heel kick in the direction of Lorenzo’s sternum, trying to send him sprawling to the sand. It would give Ty enough time to reach for one of the weapons, only a few feet behind them.
Watching Tyrell cough up blood brought a wild grin onto Lorenzo’s face. Good. He was hurting. He was feeling Lorenzo’s hits, and he deserved every ounce of pain and suffering he could give him. Tyrell needed to feel the magnitude of Lorenzo’s anger. Tyrell was supposed to be his friend, and yet, when he confided in him, hoping for some semblance of support and help to fix everything he’d ruined, instead he was met with betrayal and scorn. That was the second time he’d made that mistake. First Demetri left him all those years ago, and now Tyrell chose to abandon him. It was like a terrible echo from the past. Lorenzo trusted him. He reached out to him from a place of pain and hurting and simply got pushed away to let his demons consume him all alone.
What other choice was there than to become what they saw him as?
He would be their monster. That’s what would help him survive. To make it back to the only people who’d ever really loved him. He’d kill them all if that’s what it took to see his family again.
Lorenzo took another swing at Ty’s face, but the bigger teen let out a wild and crazed battle cry as he blocked the attack and swung his own fist at Lorenzo. He tried his best to deflect the blow with his left arm, but it was still hurting bad, and all he succeeded in doing was letting Ty’s fist slide off his arm and sock him in the lip. It still hurt like a bitch, and he could taste the coppery blood from his surely split lip, but at least he’d avoided a broken nose or something equally debilitating.
Before he could react, he felt his breath get knocked out of his lungs when Ty’s other fist planted itself in his rib-cage. His eyes widened in shock, and he gasped desperately for the air that had abandoned him. Unfortunately that wasn’t the worst of it. Directly after he felt a blinding pain when Ty threw a savage blow at his left side and his vision blurred from the sheer pain. Lorenzo felt his knees buckle from the blow, but before he could fall, Ty planted his heel in the middle of Lorenzo’s chest, sending him sprawling down to the sands below.
Lorenzo laid there in the sand, hurt and wheezing, attempting unsuccessfully to regain the breath in his lungs as he clutched his left side in absolute agony. His vision wouldn’t focus, no matter how hard he tried, and he felt himself unconsciously curling up into a fetal position to try and protect himself from whatever was coming next. It felt like everything was suddenly moving in slow motion, and the terrible groan of pain that made its way past his bloodied lips was loud and ragged.
What other choice was there than to become what they saw him as?
He would be their monster. That’s what would help him survive. To make it back to the only people who’d ever really loved him. He’d kill them all if that’s what it took to see his family again.
Lorenzo took another swing at Ty’s face, but the bigger teen let out a wild and crazed battle cry as he blocked the attack and swung his own fist at Lorenzo. He tried his best to deflect the blow with his left arm, but it was still hurting bad, and all he succeeded in doing was letting Ty’s fist slide off his arm and sock him in the lip. It still hurt like a bitch, and he could taste the coppery blood from his surely split lip, but at least he’d avoided a broken nose or something equally debilitating.
Before he could react, he felt his breath get knocked out of his lungs when Ty’s other fist planted itself in his rib-cage. His eyes widened in shock, and he gasped desperately for the air that had abandoned him. Unfortunately that wasn’t the worst of it. Directly after he felt a blinding pain when Ty threw a savage blow at his left side and his vision blurred from the sheer pain. Lorenzo felt his knees buckle from the blow, but before he could fall, Ty planted his heel in the middle of Lorenzo’s chest, sending him sprawling down to the sands below.
Lorenzo laid there in the sand, hurt and wheezing, attempting unsuccessfully to regain the breath in his lungs as he clutched his left side in absolute agony. His vision wouldn’t focus, no matter how hard he tried, and he felt himself unconsciously curling up into a fetal position to try and protect himself from whatever was coming next. It felt like everything was suddenly moving in slow motion, and the terrible groan of pain that made its way past his bloodied lips was loud and ragged.
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MethodicalSlacker
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There. There it was, right there. Lorenzo sustained so much of a beating that he could barely move. Tyrell was the victor. Absolutely, unfathomably true. Right in the quicksand, right in the web. The grandfather clock pendulum swayed back and forth between life and death with each passing moment. Her control. Weapons were somewhere else in the sand. Even if he somehow got up and charged her, she had control. Swing the gun towards his already broken face. Fuck him up, bad. Blaise was all talk. Strangle her? Couldn't even reach her.
How Blaise could maintain that position after what Tyrell said was beyond Violet. Far as she knew, maybe Blaise was in on it. Maybe Blaise knew Lorenzo and helped him do that evil thing. She didn't know Blaise, not at all. She didn't know this situation at all. Dante was innocent. Camila was a hero. Blaise reeked of apathy. How? Blaise was also caught in the web. They all were. For all Violet cared, she could turn and shoot Blaise and be done. Just let that happen. Lorenzo and Tyrell were too caught up in one another, tangled in each other's limbs and hate. Nobody would realize. It'd get her the kill she needed. Violet started to breathe heavily as her eyes flicked back and forth, target to target. Camila couldn't get up to fight her or else she'd let go of Dante. Dante could be supported well enough against a corpse, Dante could—
Lorenzo started to curl in on himself in the sand. Right. He was still a question that needed answering. Tyrell was fairly close, but not close in a way that indicated collateral damage. Close, and going for a weapon, but he already had his fun. Artem was her friend. This was her vengeance to take. He was an instrument of her wrath, but he was under her control. This was all under control. The veins in her hands pulsed like silk. She braced for the recoil and squeezed the trigger.
A burst of sand loosed itself from the earth, scattering high on the wind, as the bullet buried itself several inches away from Lorenzo's head.
How Blaise could maintain that position after what Tyrell said was beyond Violet. Far as she knew, maybe Blaise was in on it. Maybe Blaise knew Lorenzo and helped him do that evil thing. She didn't know Blaise, not at all. She didn't know this situation at all. Dante was innocent. Camila was a hero. Blaise reeked of apathy. How? Blaise was also caught in the web. They all were. For all Violet cared, she could turn and shoot Blaise and be done. Just let that happen. Lorenzo and Tyrell were too caught up in one another, tangled in each other's limbs and hate. Nobody would realize. It'd get her the kill she needed. Violet started to breathe heavily as her eyes flicked back and forth, target to target. Camila couldn't get up to fight her or else she'd let go of Dante. Dante could be supported well enough against a corpse, Dante could—
Lorenzo started to curl in on himself in the sand. Right. He was still a question that needed answering. Tyrell was fairly close, but not close in a way that indicated collateral damage. Close, and going for a weapon, but he already had his fun. Artem was her friend. This was her vengeance to take. He was an instrument of her wrath, but he was under her control. This was all under control. The veins in her hands pulsed like silk. She braced for the recoil and squeezed the trigger.
A burst of sand loosed itself from the earth, scattering high on the wind, as the bullet buried itself several inches away from Lorenzo's head.