The town is quiet, eerily so. All animals, all chatter, all gusts of wind have come to a complete stop this morning. A tumbleweed passes by through the center of town and the rocking chair on the Sheriff's porch sways but remains silent. Everything is muted and as the door of the hotel opens, the only sensation that rings utterly true today is this:
This is the end.
Suddenly, the church bells ring -- twelve rings to mark the hour and the door to the Sheriff's station swings open on the twelfth. The Sheriff tucks his thumbs into his belt loops and walks across the strip of town right to the door of the Saloon. A moment later, he knocks on the door frame, loud enough to alert anyone who might be inside.
"Alright, folks. Come on out. Time to end this."
And then he turns his back and walks back into the middle of the street, waiting.
[He barely waits for the knock before he walks out of the saloon, eyes downcast as he walks forward and to the middle of the street. After a moment, he steps to the side and expectantly looks up. Waiting. Dreading.
[He's not particularly happy about this; his jaw is clenched, and it's doubtful any of them have slept at all considering people blowing up the hotel and shit.
(Nothing is fine.)
There's nothing to be done about this, though; he follows suit, stepping out of the saloon and to where the Sheriff stands; picking a place off to the side but not too close to Percy, arms crossed and brow furrowed.
[Damian comes out with a black and white cat in his arms. It gets a few strokes behind the ear, and then he lets it down on the rail of the bannister before he follows the other three out into the middle.
Like them, he says nothing, but stands parallel with Barnham on the opposite side, a foot or two away.]
[ At the arrival of the three of them, the Sheriff smiles -- genuinely proud. ]
Gotta say, I was rooting for ya. You two in particular, [ He points at Barnham and Percy then. ] Five people a pop? It's like you couldn't get your hands bloodier.
[ And then to Damian, he smiles wider. ]
And you, three in one night? I thought you wouldn't. I really did. But I guess I made a good choice in my Bounty Leader, eh?
[ But then, without warning, he pulls out his pistol and fires a bullet off into Damian's forehead. There's little time to react and instead, the Sheriff checks his watch.
Damian Wayne is dead, but the Sheriff seems to be waiting for something. ]
Right, that sort of ruins things but I guess we can get breakfast or something first. Toast, maybe?
[He opens his mouth to object to his body count, angry for that revelation and unsure what it has to do with anything. He also looks at Barnham in bewilderment. Five? Who? How?
He doesn't get to ask though before the pistol fired into Damian's head and he yells, whipping his head back to the Sheriff.]
[You don't really have room to talk, Percy? Five people??
Still, Barnham is also more concerned about Damian. His eyebrows draw together, and he tenses, though after dragging in a sharp breath and slowly letting it out, he just stares at Hal.
He's spent enough time with the Sheriff to have a pretty good idea that there's more to this.]
[It's easier to react to guns when one isn't pointed six inches away from your face. The life immediately evaporates out of Damian's eyes. Blood pools out of the hole and down the middle of his face, and his knees finally give. He lands in a heap in the dirt on his back.
And of course, after a few moments, four white-socked paws venture over to see why Damian is lying on the ground. Damian won't get up? Damian won't answer.
Pennyworth looks up at the three of them and meows uncertainly, but Damian Wayne is, in fact, dead.]
[ Well, come on. Don't yell at him, it'll spoil his good cheer. He looks at the two of them with a less than pleased expressions and sighs, checking his watch again. ]
It's exactly what we talked about, actually.
[ Then he gestures to Damian's dead body before tucking his gun back in his holster. ]
Doctor's orders, kids. Remember, Percy? When you convinced Natalie to change her request to Damian? S'like no one's paying attention to anything around here. His revival is the last loose end if you actually want things to end, er, today.
Give it... let's say, half an hour, yeah? Breakfast offer is still on the table though.
[....oh. There is that. He looks at Hal, looks at Damian's body, looks at this poor confused cat...and starts laughing. it's not funny. It's not. Nothing is funny but everything is, this stupid game and its stupid rules and Natalie, he misses Natalie, he misses her so badly and he misses Annabeth who would have remembered all of the nuances of everything they've discussed.
So...he laughs, eventually letting it taper off before glancing at Hal again.]
My bad. [He has to play along for one more round.] ...breakfast...? Really?
[... Look Barnham didn't even know who was getting revived by the Doctor??? Don't look at him, he's innocent (in this, at least). He just pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.
Just.
He doesn't fucking know anymore someone just end this stupidity for him, end him so he can be free. All he's got to contribute to all of this is the most aggravated sigh to ever be sighed.]
[ The Sheriff just nods and bends down to pick up Pennyworth. The cat can come have breakfast with them.
Which is, in fact, happening right now. The Sheriff just turns back to the saloon and like the pizza the other day, there are three place settings at one of the tables with a full breakfast of pancakes and eggs and bacon and sausage. There is also a saucer of milk for the cat that the Sheriff sets Pennyworth down to have while he takes a seat.
Yes, they really are going to have some food here while they wait. ]
[Whole Ass is the worst. It's the worst and yet Percy follows...and takes a singular pancake. He's calmly tearing it to shreds to eat but he's also staring at Hal.]
So when he comes back...everything will go the way we discussed? [He shakes his head.] Can't believe we forgot the revival. [He shoots a frown toward Barnham.] Sorry, Mr. Barnham. But seriously no other hang-ups?
[Barnham is not even going to touch that food, honestly; he sits there and stares at it and looks vaguely sickened.
Aside from the apology, which he nods to... it looks like Barnham's pretty much going to be sticking silent for a bit, because he just wants this over and done with. It's been too long of a road to get here.
[Conduits of strange, archaic, and devious magic, it's as if Pennyworth knows when Satan materializes. The cat sits in front of the door a little ways back, the ends of his tail curling and uncurling. The cat just stares for a long time at nothing in particular.
Familiar feet come up on the porch beneath the door, stomping rather angrily for something so small.
When Damian throws open the doors and steps inside, he still has the black hole in the middle of his forehead, and blood still covers his face like warpaint. Pennyworth merowls in greeting.
They. Are. Fucking. EATING. AFTER. HIS DEATH.] Next time, execute me fairly by dueling me!
[There's a pause as he looks up at Damian drenched in his own blood, the small hole in his forehead and when he hears him yell...he grins a little before swallowing the rest of his pancake. This is so fucked up.]
I told you he'd want a duel. [This is in general.] But that was kind of a cheap shot.
[Sup Damian. Barnham just kind of...nods a greeting to him as he walks in (bullet wound and all, damn, look at that, he's glad he didn't eat anything) and then glances at Percy, sighing.]
I suppose we had ought be grateful he took care of the problem of the revival before all of this was for naught.
[They did have a plan and all, it probably would've been a mess if they fucked that up with the whole revival thing.]
Though the method left a great deal to be desired. [anyway] Can we now get this farce over with?
[ Well, that's that then. The Sheriff is finished eating mostly but he does stand up and pick up a few sausage before heading towards the door. He'll scoop up Pennyworth and he passes him, holding the cat out to Damian when he gets to him. ]
Ain't anything cheap about it, just had to be done. Take your cat, now we have the actual duel.
[ And then he'll pass through the doors to head back out on the street again. When they join him, he'll be holding two pistols in his hand and looking at Barnham and Damian. ]
[He says nothing. He follows and he keeps his mouth shut now, stepping off to the side to wait for their decision. After hearing everything, he wouldn't be surprised if they changed their minds. But he can't speak for them.]
[It's no surprise that Damian turns up his nose at the guns when he gets there with them. (IT'S FINE, HE LEFT PENNYWORTH BACK ON THE PORCH OR W/E.)] Only a coward would back down from a commitment.
[Why... are the two sword users forced to use guns? Let them rest.]
He still hates this, and hates that they have to do this. He hates that he has to possibly shoot Damian again after he just came back to life, which sounds unpleasant.
But it'd be stupid to balk at this now, after everything else they've done to see things through to this point.
So he sighs, and reaches for the gun, nodding to Damian.]
... Very well then. We shall both see this through to the inevitable end.
[Begrudgingly, Damian takes the gun. Despite the dissatisfaction with the firearm, he appears to know his way around one pretty well by how he holds it and how easily he checks the chamber for bullets.
When he looks up at Barnham (bullet hole and all), he seems too determined for a ten year old. Slowly, he turns around and offers his backside.]
[The bloody look is really unsettling on top of everything else, for the record.
But Barnham can't really disrespect Damian's effort at this point. He's killed people as well, and though he's young, they've both decided upon this outcome.
There's no going back now.
So instead, while it kills him inside to have to attack a child... well, he's already basically dead inside anyway. Just a little bit more. A little bit more, and he can stop committing such horrible crimes.
He turns his back as well to Damian (a likely comical size difference there) and breathes out slowly.]
I, too, am ready. Let us finish this, then, Young Mister Wayne.
[Ten paces. When they're both ready, he'll start to walk.]
[Likewise, Damian begins walking. Rather than do double-time to keep up with Barham's pace, he just exaggerates his own. Takes larger steps than he really has to, adult steps, one at a time.
One, two, three, four.
The gun feels too heavy in his hand. Aches, uncomfortable. Stings like he's crushing burning embers in his palm. How disappointed his father would be in him. Not only did he kill, he made excuses for it, and now, at the end, he's using a gun.
Five, six, seven.
On eight, he thinks about whether or not he wants to go home at all anymore. If he shoots Barnham and, after, Percy, he can make the choice himself. He can start over, and no one has to die. On nine, he hopes when (if) they go back, he forgets everything so he doesn't have to look his father in the face knowing he spilt blood. More blood.
On ten, he turns around in place and fires without hesitation at Barnham's chest.]
[There has already been too many deaths. Barnham knows that himself--too many deaths, and too many of them at his own hands. He's done unspeakable things in the pursuit of this truth that he learned from the Sheriff, a truth that he never wanted to know. He thinks, shamefully, life and then death would have been easier if he'd never learned.
But he did. And there was no going back after that.
He doesn't shorten his paces for Damian, but he doesn't make them long paces either; easy, simply and knightly steps, even as he keeps his chin high. ("Walk tall" echoes in his head, and he obeys.)
Right now, there's nothing but this. Just a little bit longer, and a little more blood on his hands, and he can rest. He was never meant to be a hero but... it seems he was never really meant to be a knight, either, for all of his pride in his belief of justice.
(He's a fraud.)
Ten doesn't come soon enough, but it also comes all too soon, and Barnham doesn't hesitate. He's gotten a great deal of practice in using a gun lately, but that doesn't mean he's good at it; he turns, adjusted already for Damian's height, and fires as well, and then there's the searing pain in his chest and he crumples slowly, falling to one knee and grimacing in pain. He keeps the gun in hand, but his free hand presses to the bullet wound in his chest, blood gathering around his fingers.
It'll be fatal, he assumes, given enough time.
He doesn't really intend to wait, though. He doesn't want to really put this on Damian's shoulders--a child, who has already had to kill three people because of his own desperation and this all too cruel game. He won't put this on Damian's shoulders either; he lifts the gun without looking to see if he hit Damian or not, and puts it to his own temple.
[Before, he died too quickly. All he heard was the gun firing, and he was dead.
This time, it feels like steel heated in a furnace and pressed to his skin. So hot it's numb. His stomach cramps, but when he raises his other hand, it's covered in blood. Idiot. What a wasted fight.
There's still no hesitation. Without falling or teeter, Damian raises the gun to his own temple. His eyes are on Percy.] Do it. Don't think about anything else but going home. Fixing your mistakes are a wasted effort.
[ And then the Sheriff intervenes because god damnit, it's like neither of them is paying attention. It's like no one read the rules. The Sheriff looks genuinely surprised for a moment at the choice they're making before swearing -- loudly -- and his hand jumps to the gun at his hip.
Two bullets is all it takes -- bang, bang, right into the skulls of both Barnham and Damian. They'll crumple like a heap a moment later and the Sheriff swears again, pressing his free hand to his face and his gun hand to his hip. ]
[Of everything that has happened in this game, this was the most grueling moment of his life. He knew what was happening and he couldn't stop it. But then he didn't know what was happening and still couldn't stop it. He thinks of Barnham and the look of defeat he gave Percy almost a week ago. He thinks of Damian only hours before. They didn't deserve this.
"Fixing your mistakes are a wasted effort."
These are, in fact, his mistakes. But there's panic in the moments his friends lift the guns to their heads, and then relief when Hal steps in. He's silent. Whole Ass is silent now. He stares at the crumpled, bloodied and broken figures of two people he trusted to end this game right...and he turns to the Sheriff.]
...thank you for stopping them. They don't deserve to be disqualified. [He bows his head.] Is it instantaneous? Are they on the train now?
[ The Sheriff steps closer to the closest of the two bodies, Barnham, and nudges him with a foot. He'll glance over to the porch of the saloon where Pennyworth is now mysteriously absent. From there, he looks to the collapsed bonfire and sunken hotel. Then behind him, to the train.
All seems to be in order.
Finally, he turns to Percy and pulls out his pipe from his pocket. He takes a moment to load it with tobacco and light it up with a match, placing it between his lips. ]
I'll let 'em join when you do. Tomorrow, when we depart. It's a long trip so ain't a reason to overwhelm them so suddenly, and it'll give the rest of 'em a moment to cool off.
[ Small circles of smoke leave his pipe and he rocks on his heels slightly, fingers tapping against his belt. ]
So, my Coal Miner won the competition, eh? Pretty interesting, gotta say. Since your role is a nothing role. Disposal, at most. Guess it shows how much the rest of 'em fucked up that you're the one standing here.
[His eyes drift to Damian's body then. He notices the lack of Pennyworth and wonders if Constantine is gone now, too. He glares at the dirt for a moment. A winner? Is this what victory really felt like? He didn't think it would be like this. Weeks of hoping and trying and fighting for...what? A fraud to win the game? He nods to himself.]
That's not fair, but if they're safe that's all I ask. I don't care about when I join the train. I think the reaction is going to be the same.
...my mind didn't change, Hal. I'd like everyone to go home, or to the place they would consider home now. I'd like this to never happen to them again. And I'd like you to ask them if they wish to keep their memories or not. I'm keeping mine. But I don't think it's something that should be forced, since your asshole employers forced us in the first place.
...and man, don't say that about them. If anyone fucked up it was me. But I...my choices led us here. Everyone is safe now, right?
[ The Sheriff doesn't seem too bothered by anything Percy says. Nothing about it surprises him and he just nods, feeling fine with how everything played out. What a fun game.
So, he nods and looks pleased with himself. ]
S'a lot of stops to make, Percy, but you got it. Hope they all thought about it, where they want to go, what they want to keep. Would be a shame if they got stuck on the train 'cause they were indecisive.
[ A snort. ]
Safe as houses, kid. Only one thing left to do now that the decision is made. Everything else you'll get once you're on the train.
[ And so, he unholsters his gun and holds it out for Percy to take. ]
I asked you to deliver a message to them. Honor that. Tell them what I just said about how this game will end. Give them that choice. [His tone is sharp and bitter, but resigned. He has no reason to be angry now. What's done is done. He was coerced into playing this game and somehow he knew this would always come to him. He hates it. His friends shouldn't have died for him. What if he didn't pick the right choice?
But it was never a question. He's thought about this from the beginning. They're safe now.
Everyone will be safe now. This won't happen again. It's not ideal, there's so much more he wishes to fix, more he had argued about days ago...but this will do. Not for the first time in the face of doom, he thinks of Annabeth. He looks at the offered gun and thinks of Annabeth.
"I've put way too much time and effort into keeping you in one piece to let someone shoot you? We wouldn't want me to have to start from scratch."
People did this for him. He's a disappointment, he knows. A hero? He doesn't know. But he knows he can't waste their sacrifices. He has to end this right.
He takes the gun and lifts it to his temple, staring the Sheriff in the eye.]
It's been a real pleasure, Sheriff. [There's a lingering moment that he stares again.] See you soon. [And before he can take another breath, he narrows his eyes and pulls the trigger.]
Percy crumples to the floor and the Sheriff watches, expression unchanging aside from a raised eyebrow at how easily he goes. Blood splashes to his face but he doesn't mind it, only pulls his pipe out a moment later and presses it out with a thumb. It goes back into his pocket as he crouches down to take his gun from Percy's still warm fingertips.
The decision is made and the winner is dead. There's nothing left to do now.
He looks over at the other two bodies, Barnham and Damian, before back to the train again. A hand lifts in a single wave and he holsters his gun before turning and heading back for the station.
Slow steps up the porch and through the door and he closes it behind him with a soft click. The town continues to remain silent, nothing and no one left to stir it. They're all gone, after all. They're all ready to go home. Which means with that --
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robowest2017-03-03 06:00 pm
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This is the day, isn't it?]
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(Nothing is fine.)
There's nothing to be done about this, though; he follows suit, stepping out of the saloon and to where the Sheriff stands; picking a place off to the side but not too close to Percy, arms crossed and brow furrowed.
'Sup.]
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Like them, he says nothing, but stands parallel with Barnham on the opposite side, a foot or two away.]
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Gotta say, I was rooting for ya. You two in particular, [ He points at Barnham and Percy then. ] Five people a pop? It's like you couldn't get your hands bloodier.
[ And then to Damian, he smiles wider. ]
And you, three in one night? I thought you wouldn't. I really did. But I guess I made a good choice in my Bounty Leader, eh?
[ But then, without warning, he pulls out his pistol and fires a bullet off into Damian's forehead. There's little time to react and instead, the Sheriff checks his watch.
Damian Wayne is dead, but the Sheriff seems to be waiting for something. ]
Right, that sort of ruins things but I guess we can get breakfast or something first. Toast, maybe?
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He doesn't get to ask though before the pistol fired into Damian's head and he yells, whipping his head back to the Sheriff.]
Hal! What the--this wasn't what we talked about!
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Still, Barnham is also more concerned about Damian. His eyebrows draw together, and he tenses, though after dragging in a sharp breath and slowly letting it out, he just stares at Hal.
He's spent enough time with the Sheriff to have a pretty good idea that there's more to this.]
I suppose there was a reason for that?
[enlighten us, Hal.]
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And of course, after a few moments, four white-socked paws venture over to see why Damian is lying on the ground. Damian won't get up? Damian won't answer.
Pennyworth looks up at the three of them and meows uncertainly, but Damian Wayne is, in fact, dead.]
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It's exactly what we talked about, actually.
[ Then he gestures to Damian's dead body before tucking his gun back in his holster. ]
Doctor's orders, kids. Remember, Percy? When you convinced Natalie to change her request to Damian? S'like no one's paying attention to anything around here. His revival is the last loose end if you actually want things to end, er, today.
Give it... let's say, half an hour, yeah? Breakfast offer is still on the table though.
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So...he laughs, eventually letting it taper off before glancing at Hal again.]
My bad. [He has to play along for one more round.] ...breakfast...? Really?
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Just.
He doesn't fucking know anymore someone just end this stupidity for him, end him so he can be free. All he's got to contribute to all of this is the most aggravated sigh to ever be sighed.]
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Which is, in fact, happening right now. The Sheriff just turns back to the saloon and like the pizza the other day, there are three place settings at one of the tables with a full breakfast of pancakes and eggs and bacon and sausage. There is also a saucer of milk for the cat that the Sheriff sets Pennyworth down to have while he takes a seat.
Yes, they really are going to have some food here while they wait. ]
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So when he comes back...everything will go the way we discussed? [He shakes his head.] Can't believe we forgot the revival. [He shoots a frown toward Barnham.] Sorry, Mr. Barnham. But seriously no other hang-ups?
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Aside from the apology, which he nods to... it looks like Barnham's pretty much going to be sticking silent for a bit, because he just wants this over and done with. It's been too long of a road to get here.
And you want him to eat breakfast sausages.
A TEN YEAR OLD JUST DIED.]
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Yep, just the same. I was kinda hoping he'd take himself out but eh, kid's resilient.
[ And now they wait. ]
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Familiar feet come up on the porch beneath the door, stomping rather angrily for something so small.
When Damian throws open the doors and steps inside, he still has the black hole in the middle of his forehead, and blood still covers his face like warpaint. Pennyworth merowls in greeting.
They. Are. Fucking. EATING. AFTER. HIS DEATH.] Next time, execute me fairly by dueling me!
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I told you he'd want a duel. [This is in general.] But that was kind of a cheap shot.
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I suppose we had ought be grateful he took care of the problem of the revival before all of this was for naught.
[They did have a plan and all, it probably would've been a mess if they fucked that up with the whole revival thing.]
Though the method left a great deal to be desired. [anyway] Can we now get this farce over with?
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Ain't anything cheap about it, just had to be done. Take your cat, now we have the actual duel.
[ And then he'll pass through the doors to head back out on the street again. When they join him, he'll be holding two pistols in his hand and looking at Barnham and Damian. ]
Still set on Percy then?
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Percy may have killed five people, but...well, Barnham did too. He had his reasons; he assume Percy did as well, even if it's a bit of a surprise.
For now, he's always been fighting to save everyone who has already died; that hasn't changed.]
Nothing about the situation has changed. I am standing by my words.
[Though he does look a little distastefully at the guns.]
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[Why... are the two sword users forced to use guns? Let them rest.]
Are we required to use those?
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You're required to take them, walk ten paces, turn and fire. The rest is on y'all to do as you wish.
[ Still holding them out here. ]
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He still hates this, and hates that they have to do this. He hates that he has to possibly shoot Damian again after he just came back to life, which sounds unpleasant.
But it'd be stupid to balk at this now, after everything else they've done to see things through to this point.
So he sighs, and reaches for the gun, nodding to Damian.]
... Very well then. We shall both see this through to the inevitable end.
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When he looks up at Barnham (bullet hole and all), he seems too determined for a ten year old. Slowly, he turns around and offers his backside.]
I'm ready when you've gotten your nerve, Barnham.
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But Barnham can't really disrespect Damian's effort at this point. He's killed people as well, and though he's young, they've both decided upon this outcome.
There's no going back now.
So instead, while it kills him inside to have to attack a child... well, he's already basically dead inside anyway. Just a little bit more. A little bit more, and he can stop committing such horrible crimes.
He turns his back as well to Damian (a likely comical size difference there) and breathes out slowly.]
I, too, am ready. Let us finish this, then, Young Mister Wayne.
[Ten paces. When they're both ready, he'll start to walk.]
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One, two, three, four.
The gun feels too heavy in his hand. Aches, uncomfortable. Stings like he's crushing burning embers in his palm. How disappointed his father would be in him. Not only did he kill, he made excuses for it, and now, at the end, he's using a gun.
Five, six, seven.
On eight, he thinks about whether or not he wants to go home at all anymore. If he shoots Barnham and, after, Percy, he can make the choice himself. He can start over, and no one has to die. On nine, he hopes when (if) they go back, he forgets everything so he doesn't have to look his father in the face knowing he spilt blood. More blood.
On ten, he turns around in place and fires without hesitation at Barnham's chest.]
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But he did. And there was no going back after that.
He doesn't shorten his paces for Damian, but he doesn't make them long paces either; easy, simply and knightly steps, even as he keeps his chin high. ("Walk tall" echoes in his head, and he obeys.)
Right now, there's nothing but this. Just a little bit longer, and a little more blood on his hands, and he can rest. He was never meant to be a hero but... it seems he was never really meant to be a knight, either, for all of his pride in his belief of justice.
(He's a fraud.)
Ten doesn't come soon enough, but it also comes all too soon, and Barnham doesn't hesitate. He's gotten a great deal of practice in using a gun lately, but that doesn't mean he's good at it; he turns, adjusted already for Damian's height, and fires as well, and then there's the searing pain in his chest and he crumples slowly, falling to one knee and grimacing in pain. He keeps the gun in hand, but his free hand presses to the bullet wound in his chest, blood gathering around his fingers.
It'll be fatal, he assumes, given enough time.
He doesn't really intend to wait, though. He doesn't want to really put this on Damian's shoulders--a child, who has already had to kill three people because of his own desperation and this all too cruel game. He won't put this on Damian's shoulders either; he lifts the gun without looking to see if he hit Damian or not, and puts it to his own temple.
This, too, he can take care of himself.]
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This time, it feels like steel heated in a furnace and pressed to his skin. So hot it's numb. His stomach cramps, but when he raises his other hand, it's covered in blood. Idiot. What a wasted fight.
There's still no hesitation. Without falling or teeter, Damian raises the gun to his own temple. His eyes are on Percy.] Do it. Don't think about anything else but going home. Fixing your mistakes are a wasted effort.
Send them back, Jackson. Send us all back.
[He can take care of himself, too.]
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... Oh.
[ Oh!!! ]
Y'all...!
[ And then the Sheriff intervenes because god damnit, it's like neither of them is paying attention. It's like no one read the rules. The Sheriff looks genuinely surprised for a moment at the choice they're making before swearing -- loudly -- and his hand jumps to the gun at his hip.
Two bullets is all it takes -- bang, bang, right into the skulls of both Barnham and Damian. They'll crumple like a heap a moment later and the Sheriff swears again, pressing his free hand to his face and his gun hand to his hip. ]
The hell did I say about suicide, ya morons?
[ Damian Wayne and Zacharias Barnham are dead. ]
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"Fixing your mistakes are a wasted effort."
These are, in fact, his mistakes. But there's panic in the moments his friends lift the guns to their heads, and then relief when Hal steps in. He's silent. Whole Ass is silent now. He stares at the crumpled, bloodied and broken figures of two people he trusted to end this game right...and he turns to the Sheriff.]
...thank you for stopping them. They don't deserve to be disqualified. [He bows his head.] Is it instantaneous? Are they on the train now?
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All seems to be in order.
Finally, he turns to Percy and pulls out his pipe from his pocket. He takes a moment to load it with tobacco and light it up with a match, placing it between his lips. ]
I'll let 'em join when you do. Tomorrow, when we depart. It's a long trip so ain't a reason to overwhelm them so suddenly, and it'll give the rest of 'em a moment to cool off.
[ Small circles of smoke leave his pipe and he rocks on his heels slightly, fingers tapping against his belt. ]
So, my Coal Miner won the competition, eh? Pretty interesting, gotta say. Since your role is a nothing role. Disposal, at most. Guess it shows how much the rest of 'em fucked up that you're the one standing here.
[ Pretty funny, honestly. ]
What's it gonna be then, winner?
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That's not fair, but if they're safe that's all I ask. I don't care about when I join the train. I think the reaction is going to be the same.
...my mind didn't change, Hal. I'd like everyone to go home, or to the place they would consider home now. I'd like this to never happen to them again. And I'd like you to ask them if they wish to keep their memories or not. I'm keeping mine. But I don't think it's something that should be forced, since your asshole employers forced us in the first place.
...and man, don't say that about them. If anyone fucked up it was me. But I...my choices led us here. Everyone is safe now, right?
no subject
So, he nods and looks pleased with himself. ]
S'a lot of stops to make, Percy, but you got it. Hope they all thought about it, where they want to go, what they want to keep. Would be a shame if they got stuck on the train 'cause they were indecisive.
[ A snort. ]
Safe as houses, kid. Only one thing left to do now that the decision is made. Everything else you'll get once you're on the train.
[ And so, he unholsters his gun and holds it out for Percy to take. ]
Thanks for playing.
no subject
But it was never a question. He's thought about this from the beginning. They're safe now.
Everyone will be safe now. This won't happen again. It's not ideal, there's so much more he wishes to fix, more he had argued about days ago...but this will do. Not for the first time in the face of doom, he thinks of Annabeth. He looks at the offered gun and thinks of Annabeth.
"I've put way too much time and effort into keeping you in one piece to let someone shoot you? We wouldn't want me to have to start from scratch."
People did this for him. He's a disappointment, he knows. A hero? He doesn't know. But he knows he can't waste their sacrifices. He has to end this right.
He takes the gun and lifts it to his temple, staring the Sheriff in the eye.]
It's been a real pleasure, Sheriff. [There's a lingering moment that he stares again.] See you soon. [And before he can take another breath, he narrows his eyes and pulls the trigger.]
no subject
Percy crumples to the floor and the Sheriff watches, expression unchanging aside from a raised eyebrow at how easily he goes. Blood splashes to his face but he doesn't mind it, only pulls his pipe out a moment later and presses it out with a thumb. It goes back into his pocket as he crouches down to take his gun from Percy's still warm fingertips.
The decision is made and the winner is dead. There's nothing left to do now.
He looks over at the other two bodies, Barnham and Damian, before back to the train again. A hand lifts in a single wave and he holsters his gun before turning and heading back for the station.
Slow steps up the porch and through the door and he closes it behind him with a soft click. The town continues to remain silent, nothing and no one left to stir it. They're all gone, after all. They're all ready to go home. Which means with that --
The game is over. ]