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[kestralslibrary]

whumptober day 2 - “they don’t care about you.” + alt prompt 8: hunting

[feat. a lil ending thing under the read more!]

“They don’t care about you. You know that, right?”

The grumble that escapes Kaycee is one full of annoyance and bitterness. She’s heard this multiple times, from multiple people, in this damn place. It feels bitter every time someone says it to her. It felt bitter when this place was just fluorescent lights, antiseptic, and a fight for life. It feels bitter now, even with the darkness and dampness that the building holds. She’d torch what remained if she could, really. Torch it and all the memories that it held.

Instead, she just sits on the frame of a hospital bed, in a long-ago burnt out hospital room in a long-ago burnt out hospital. The air’s still dusty and ashy despite having been vacated and abandoned years ago now. The only light that comes in is through a broken window, unfiltered yellow lighting the darkness.

Across from her sits broken medical equipment- shattered screens, bent IV poles, cabinets and drawers thrown open by squatters that came here long ago. Anything that has any worth is long gone, whether that be because of being stolen or destroyed in the fire.

“So what’s your point?” She finally snaps back, shoving off of the bedframe and meandering her way towards who had just spoken to her.”You’re telling me shit I already know. I know that they don’t care about me. I’m not stupid.” She’s fiddling with her hair while she stands there, but her eyes bore into the blue ones that stare at her from the corner. “So why waste your time?”

Eric’s probably got a solid eight inches on her, with eyes like a clear blue sky and black hair that curls up at the bottom. He’s standing with his arms folded across his chest and a smirk on his face, watching as Kaycee moves to stand in front of him. If he wanted to, he could heft her up on his shoulder and drop her out the window. It would be easy. It would be so easy to just be rid of her.

But that’s the problem- if she dies, he does too. It’s almost like a joke that he’s not in on, and its one that he’s getting tired of.

“So the point is, you can do whatever you want to do? Fuck, Kaycee, you’re invisible. Everyone thinks you’re dead, and everyone’s moved on. No one’s going to come looking for you, or try to find you, or anything.” Eric laughs, and it’s enough to make Kaycee want to punch him in his stupid face. He’s the reason she’s alive, after all. If he hadn’t pulled that little stunt back when they were both stuck in the lab, she’d be dead. So really, she owes him.

“... that sounds like a threat.“ Kaycee narrows her stare, not quite standing in front of him. He could easily grab her if he wanted to, but it almost seems like he’s waiting for her to make the first move. “Was that a threat?”

“Only a threat if you want to be.” The tone Eric says it in seems to convey that it, in fact, should be taken as a threat. When she tries to back away, he lurches forward and grabs her arm, and the glint in his eyes is nothing short of a hunter that’s stalking its prey. “But I think it would be in your best interest to take it as such.”

Kaycee knows that look, but she’d never been the target of that look. Usually, he’s the type to launch to her defense. Usually, he’s the one ripping other people apart when she’s in danger. She’s never been the one to be at the receiving end of his anger…

And yet, here she was.

She wrenches her arm back from him, letting out a soft growl to accompany the motion. He never lets the grip go, but the arm looks like it glitches through his hand. He shakes it for a moment to bring it back to form before he just tilts his head, looking her up and down with a cocked brow. Is she going to run?

Kaycee just groans and turns, walking away and back to the window, staring out it. The rest of the hospital is probably just as bad as this part, but maybe she’d at least be able to find something she could use. Something in her gut says that this time will just be the same as the others- he gives her a head start. She takes it.

He hunts her. They fight. She dies.

He revives her. And they do this dance again.

“Figured.” The sound of footsteps kicking through dust comes up behind her, and an arm goes around her shoulder. In a flick of movement, there’s a pack of cigarettes in that hand. “Want a light?”

“Fine.” She reaches up and takes one, sticking it in her mouth while she fishes for her lighter. A few seconds and a light later, she draws in a breath, then exhales it slowly. The smoke trails up and away from them, disappearing into the air.

It’s almost romantic, really.

“Ten minutes this time? Think you’ll be able to make decent time with that?” Eric huffs out, taking a drag from his own and turning his head so that the smoke doesn’t blow in her face. “I might even be able to give you fifteen this time. Because they don’t care, but I do.”

“Oh, fuck off.” 

They’re both standing at the window, looking out it like they’re on the coast, watching the sun rise or something. Almost romantic. Almost.

“What, would you rather me start hunting you the moment you leave this room?”

“I’d rather you didn’t hunt me at all, actually.” Kaycee takes another long, deep drag, holding the smoke in for a few extra moments before blowing it out. “That’s the most ideal thing. You stop hunting me and we go back to what we were.” She shrugs, tapping the ash off the end of the cigarette onto the floor and stepping on it. “Before whatever this is happened.”

He’s silent for a few minutes, almost like he’s lost in thought. Kaycee turns to glance at him, and for those few moments, he looks normal. Calm, if a bit distant. Any moment, he’ll turn to her and grin and press a kiss to her forehead, and they’ll get in the car and go for a dr-

That’s not going to happen, though.

“Hm, maybe one day. Maybe when I’m bored. Or… maybe when I don’t care enough to treat you like a wild animal anymore.” Eric’s finished his cigarette by now, tossing it onto the ground and stepping on it. In the same motion, he pulls his arm back from her shoulder, ruffling her hair a decent bit. “You’re fun to toy with, though.”

“Again, fuck you.” She takes the final drag from her own, crushing it underfoot as well, and dusts her hands off. “We’re doing this now, I guess?”

“Sure, why not?” There’s the predatory purr to his tone again, his eyes glinting in the light. “I think we’ve killed enough time. You’ve got ten. Make them count.”

Kaycee flips him off, turning on her heel and bolting into the hallway.

She knows these halls- where the holes are, where she can duck into rooms, shortcuts to other hallways. She’s done this multiple times- and yet, every time, she’s surprised. Maybe that’s a side effect of Eric’s very presence- after all, someone with the title of the Administrator would have a way to fuck with all of this. This is his game, anyway- it would make sense. 

So far, she’s taken a new route to put walls between him and her. Walls always seemed to buy her extra time- or maybe he was just letting her believe that. She’s not sure at this point, really. For all she knows, he could be orchestrating this to make her believe she has a chance to escape.

It’s thirty minutes before Kaycee hears anything.and feels a stab of pain shoot down her arm. There’s a sound of glass breaking somewhere nearby, accompanied by distant sirens. When she looks down, she’s greeted by the sight of a thin trickle of blood originating from a hole in her upper arm. Almost like she’s been shot. Damn it. He’d seen her and was hiding in shadows somewhere.

She’s in a cafeteria now, dodging through broken tables and navigating over broken glass before there’s another, much stronger stab of pain. Again, like she’s been shot. This time, it’s in her side. It makes her stumble, almost losing her balance and collapsing into what remains of a broken window. When she looks around the large space, she thinks she can almost catch a glimpse of Eric.

Well, that’s not really Eric now. That’s the Administrator.

She runs as fast as she can, but it’s never quite fast enough. Not even running between tables and into the actual kitchen portion of the room gives her any extra safety- he seems to move with the swiftness and agility of a cheetah, easily jumping any blockades she’s put between them. The wounds she has burn with the exertion she’s put on them, and her arm and side of her shirt are crimson.

She makes the mistake of pausing to take a breath, and that’s when he grabs her by the throat and holds her up. 

Kaycee’s not sure what burns more- the wounds or his hand on her neck. But she slams an arm into his elbow to try and break the grip he’s got, kicking at his stomach to try and push him away. It, by some miracle, works, and she hits the ground while he has to regain his balance. He never goes down, though, and while she’s moving to get back up, he grabs and wrenches her arms behind her. In the same movement, there’s a knife at her throat.

“You know… I gotta hand it to you. If the others were still around, they’d be impressed. That’s a record for you!” His voice crackles like static in her brain, and the discomfort causes her to begin to writhe again. “Maybe next time, you’ll get to forty! Maybe even an hour, eventually.” The metal digs into her skin, but doesn’t cut just yet. “I’m sure if they were here, they’d care enough to help, don’t you?” 

Kaycee writhes, but that only tightens the grip he’s got on her. The knife presses closer, cold against her neck. The edges of her vision are starting to go fuzzy- and she always hated when he pulled that. It was getting boring, really- the dazed and confused act got so drab after a while. All she knows is that she can’t stop moving- stillness is death, and she’s one slippery bitch.

“Fuck off.” She manages to get a hand free, elbowing him in the stomach. It seems to catch him off guard- actually off guard- because he lets her go and stumbles back, the knife moving away from her throat. She turns, following him, and wrenches the knife blade-first from his hand, ignoring the stinging pain in her fingers. Before he’s had a chance to recover, she has the blade pressed to his throat.

“Now, now,” he just chuckles, looking her over with a smirk. “You know what killing me does, don’t you? Then you really don’t have anyone to care about you. I’m all you’ve got. You’re not actually going to ki-”

“They called me a godkiller before. You saw what I did to Gardener, and Photographer. I have no fucking problem doing that to you.” The metal digs into his skin, blood welling up from the cut. “You… you  fucked up by saving me. Because that wasn’t Eric’s doing.” She chuckles, adjusting the grip on the knife. The blood’s made it hard to keep a constant, good hold on it, but… something tells her that she doesn’t have to worry much about that. “Did you forget what they did to me? They made me a weapon. And they gave me one very simple thing to live by. Do you know what that is?” Her own blood is beginning to drip down the hilt and onto the blade, and for a moment, she can’t tell whose blood is whose.

“Let me guess, never rest, nev-”

“Wrong. If gods can bleed, Admin, gods can die.”

The shortening of his title makes a growl rise in his throat, but when he goes to lunge, Kaycee drags the blade fully across. The violence of the motion causes a small blood splatter to flick from the knife’s tip into an arc on the floor. There’s a choking sound that comes from him as he attempts to reach up to grab at her hands, but before he gets too far, she digs the knife- to the hilt- into his temple. A few moments later, and he goes still.

When Kaycee finally gets up, she doesn’t go far before she collapses, head spinning from the exertion and the wounds she’d sustained. The entire side of her shirt, at this point, was stained red, and her arm was shaking. But she couldn’t do anything to staunch the bleeding.

Even if she’d killed him, she’d just bleed out. And this time, there was no coming back. All she could do was close her eyes and wait for the end to come. An end she finally welcomed. 

And when the darkness comes for her-

She’s back at the window, with Eric’s arm around her shoulders and the two of them sharing a cigarette break. It’s a horrible sense of deja vu. She’s supposed to be dead.

“I’d rather you didn’t hunt me at all, actually.” She takes another long, deep drag, holding the smoke in for a few extra moments before blowing it out. “That’s the most ideal thing. You stop hunting me and we go back to what we were.” She shrugs, tapping the ash off the end of the cigarette onto the floor and stepping on it. “Before whatever this is happened.”

He’s silent for a few minutes, almost like he’s lost in thought. Kaycee turns to glance at him, and for those few moments, he looks normal. Calm, if a bit distant. Any moment, he’ll turn to her and grin and press a kiss to her forehead, and they’ll get in the car and go for a dr-

“Alright. We can stop. It’s getting kind of boring anyway.” 

When she turns to stare at him, almost incredulously, it’s the expression she knows- calm, if a bit distant. He grins, kissing her forehead, and tosses the cigarette behind him, then looks out the window.

“Think the car’s still running? I mean, I can probably get it to run again if it’s not, but… would be easier if it was.” He keeps the grip on her shoulders, squeezing her gently. “C’mon, let’s get outta here. I think we’ve done our time.”

Kaycee almost can’t believe it- and when they finally manage to step foot outside, it doesn’t immediately return them to the top floor. No, they’re outside, in the sun, and fresh air, and whatever they were stuck in, it’s over. It’s over.

[kestralslibrary]

whumptober, day 1: "how many fingers am i holding up?"

In all reality, it’s not often that missions like this go wrong. It’s supposed to be easy- get into the Maze. Grab the phone. Put some posters up. Get out. It’s supposed to be easy, especially when there’s more than one kid doing the posters and a couple kids running interference. It’s supposed to be easy.

But of course, nothing is ever easy in Redacre. Why would it ever be? The phone mission had turned into running from a Stalker that seemed hellbent on a team wipe, not caring about whether or not anyone got hurt. And people had gotten hurt- one of them was currently unconscious (or dead) on the lawn of 919 Hoadly, another was currently trying to staunch the bleeding from a cut they sustained while jumping a fence, the third was currently crouched on the awning of 1005 Hoadly…

And the fourth? The fourth was hellbent on making herself the biggest target out of everyone there.

Liv’s lungs ached as she ran, the sound of the Instrument underground rattling around in her mind. She always hated the way it sounded, the way the strings seemed to somehow cut into her very fiber. How easy it seemed to worm into her mind and sit there. She hated how ingrained in the Song she was- really, how ingrained in the Song everyone in Redacre was. How she wanted to burn it.

She knew the location of all three of the other children she’d come out with tonight, yet didn’t know exactly who they were. They’d only given codenames: Hawk, Bonzai, and Vendetta. Three people she had never met, three people she was responsible for. She’d already failed one- at least, she thought she did. They hadn’t moved from the lawn, splayed out with their hockey mask tossed to the side. Their eyes… well from this far, Liv couldn’t tell. She hoped they were only stunned and suppressed, but something in her gut told her that they weren’t.

Another strum rattled her, causing her to stumble slightly before righting herself. She snuck a quick glance behind her, quietly squeaking as she noticed not one, not two, but three Lucids behind her. They weren’t exactly able to keep pace; Liv ran Unstoppable, she was quick, and she was tiny. It was something she thought was useful- keep the speed, keep Chorus off of her teammates, and finally escape when the time came. She’d done this dozens of times before, to the point it was almost second nature.

Something about tonight was… wrong, though. Maybe it was the Song being angry. Maybe it was that she’d been put in charge of a group of kids that hadn’t run a mission before. Maybe it was how the air felt far too heavy, far too thick.

As Liv bolted up to Old Growth, there was a sudden burst of light in her peripheral vision. Of course they’d followed her- take out the one that knew what she was doing so that everyone else could be rounded up.and suppressed or killed. The Instrument let out an angry sound, cacophonous and sharp, and for a moment, she froze. Why did she freeze? She needed to be running. But the pain in her head was brutal, like a nail digging into her skull. 

There was another flash. And another. And another.

And then, a red light in the woods, a rumble, and a feeling of being hunted.

Liv was dazed, but she kept running. She had to. She had to loop back around to save them. She couldn’t leave them behind like that. She couldn’t. Not after how she’d been saved from certain death. If she got somewhere that she could have a second to breathe, she’d send a message to their group chat for a headcount. She had the phone. They’d put the posters up. It was just getting out that was proving to be the issue.

The pressure building in her mind was making her thoughts foggy. Where was she? What was she doing up here? Shouldn’t she be at home? Home was nice and safe and-

Wait. That’s not right. The pressure was building more and more, and there were more pictures being taken. That fucking Stalker. They were so deadset on a wipe, and she wasn’t about to give them it. Fuck a safe place- she whipped her phone out, typing a quick, disjointed message to the group. She hoped someone answered. She hoped someone answered.

Until then, she’d go for the one that wanted them out of the picture. When the next picture came, a flashbang went back at them. The side of the school lit up, bright as day, and a tall, lanky shadow curled and covered its head.

Jackpot.

In a second, the hum of Unstoppable filled the air, and a tiny but angry girl launched herself at the form, throwing another flashbang the moment the dazed feeling would have worn off from the first one. They were too close to the building, and when Liv collided with them, their head hit the wall before the rest of their body. There was a yelp that escaped them, but it was choked and strangled and weak. Liv didn’t care- she forced them to the ground, a knee in their back while she wrestled their arms behind them and tied their hands. They didn’t even struggle- when their hands were tied, they just collapsed onto their side, the eyeball mask they’d had on cockeyed.

Wait. Eyeball mask? Liv quickly flicked her flashlight on, sweeping over the still form in front of them. Eyeball mask. Black jeans. Black boots. A simple blue and black shirt… 

She ripped the mask up, lurching back when Vendetta’s cold, dead stare met her own. She was going to be sick. She was going to be sick. There hadn’t been any messages in the group chat, Hawk was dead, and she was pretty sure Bonzai was, too- they still hadn’t moved.

Another light flashed from behind her, and moments later, a photo of her standing over Vendetta’s body showed up on her phone. She couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t. She didn’t care where she ran at this point- she just needed to go. Save who she could, and go.

When she stepped off, the pain in her head seared, and a scream from the other side of the school told her all she needed to know. A purge. She couldn’t do anything but run now- it was too late for them.

Hot tears streaked down her face as she bolted, looking for any escape she could find. She hated this. She hated this.

She also hated when a certain masked stalker tackled her, sending her down to the concrete. Her head bounced off the street harshly, everything around her turning into a myriad of colors. Her mouth tasted like copper, warm and disgusting as it slid down her throat. It wasn’t like she could turn anyway- a needle sunk into the side of her neck, and though she tried, she felt her eyes slipping shut.

—

“... a purge.”

“We found her stumbling around lower…”

“... woke her up, she screamed...”

“I don’t think we can blame her.”

Everything that Liv heard was choppy. Where was she? Her eyes finally managed to open, blurry and extremely unfocused. Even laying down, her vision spun. She was home, wasn’t she? She was home, and safe, and nothing was wrong. A tired, quiet mumble left her, and it was only then that she felt something move under her head. What?

“Oh, shit-” The voice that spoke was quiet, more than a bit southern, and full of concern. “Hey, hey, yer alright. Shouldn’ be movin’ too much, though.” He sounded so familiar, but her mind couldn’t make the connection. Her eyes fluttered shut, opening slowly once more. Nope, still unfocused. Still can’t piece together where she is. “... Liv? Can ya understand what ‘m sayin’?” 

Wait. Southern. Something connected there. Liv turned to squint up at whoever was talking to her, eventually meeting the stare of a boy with tied back red hair and eyes that looked like they were cut from a block of ice. How did he look so pretty?

“Hey, there ya are, darlin’. Y’scared us. Found ya stumblin’ around like y’were still on a mission.” The boy began running a hand through her hair, but even that seemed to hurt, and she let out a yelp and tried to move away. “Ya… ya know who I am, right?”

“... “ Probably. If it was any indicator, Liv wasn’t even looking at him. Her stare was at the wall, eyes constantly shutting and opening slowly. “M… Moss?”

“Yeah, there we go.” The way she wasn’t even looking at him was a cause of concern. Slowly, he scooted away from her, propping her head up on a pillow. Once she seemed to settle, he sat in front of her again, holding up a hand with three fingers out.. “Hey, can ya do somethin’ fer me? Can ya tell me how many fingers ‘m holdin’ up?”

Liv squinted, looking towards him but now at him, nor his hand. He was holding fingers up? It took her a few seconds, but when she finally found his hand? 

There were two of them, each holding up three. And they kept moving and multiplying. But it always seemed to come back to six fingers, three on each hand.

“S-six?” Even focusing for that long made it feel like her brain was melting. ”Y-yeah, six.” She sounded confident, like she’d answered the easiest question known to man. The frown that crossed his face and the hand dropping into his lap told her everything she needed to know- she was wrong. The worst part was that she was entirely too tired to care much.

“... O-okay. Okay.” Moss sighed softly, grabbing a blanket to place over her with a shake of the head that she’d missed. “That’s… okay. Okay.” He sounded so concerned, but even that didn’t register. “I… I gotta tell Gwen. She’s gonna wanna hear that-” He moved to stand, but Liv's fingers brushed his hand and a whimper escaped her. "I'll be back, 'kay? I'll be back 'n I won't leave 'til ya want me to."

There was another plaintive whine as he stood and headed for the HQ car, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. The sleeping car was quiet again, candles flickering lightly in the corners. It all made her head hurt far, far too much.

At this point, sleep was the better option.