Thread: Graying Horizons vs2.0

Tom nodded in Rhine's general direction,
"I'd remind you that I don't sleep and will therefore be looking over you but that might make you even more restless."

"i'm going to sleep as well I think" Wolf smile and lay on her bed, "Night all"

Tom nodded and left her room,
"Sweet dreams."

[ If only this RPG could be revived. It was so promising, and such a good idea too. Plus, I had a storyline in it! Gah, I never finished it! ]

(... fuck it. One more most for me )

Tom looked accross his room at the plain wall for a few moments before he slowly began to laugh. Quietly at first, but he gradually began to laugh harder and louder. Tears streamed down his face as he started to claw at his head absently,

"This is one fucked up situation this!" he observed between bursts of laughter, ignoring the small shock for swearing, "It's at times like these..."

He suddenly stopped laughing and hung his head a little,

"It's times like these you just have to laugh at it all." he snorted in contempt, "Figures though. They leave us on a rock with only collars to stop us ripping each other's throats out and expect us all to be fine with it. The result? A sloppy killer with a hard-on for drama."

The seriousness of the situation crept up on him again, dragging his thoughts down again into the dark memories of other such times. China. Germany. Japan. Texas. Mexico. All of his worst missions flashed before his eyes yet again. The torturing, the genicide and the death.

Oh God... the DEATH.

He instinctively sniffed twice and for a split second he imagined the smell again. The smell of death, of rotting flesh and warm blood. He gasped, his vision swimming suddenly. Quickly, he smacked himself round the face with his open palm and began to laugh. Tears streamed down his face again, this time from the utter desparation that came from some of his 'reality' attacks. He laughed harder,

"All of it... it's all just so... damn... funny..."

[ I'm going to have to join you there Nefieslab! One more scene, for old time's sake. ]

Anton face was stained with tears. He staggered through the immaculate hallways, the pulsing white walls on his eyes striking pain through his head. He stopped, leaning against the walls, panting heavily, before falling silent at an odd sound. It was laughing. Laughing in this godforsaken prison was a rare thing... But not this kind.

Anton was experienced enough to know when the laughing was false, desperate, longing. He knew - had witnessed - the laughs of a man fleeing from his own sanity. Anton turned to look in through the door at the man, seeing the figure twitch and spasm with every laugh-disguised sob that racked through his body: it was Tom.

Anton gulped, before transmitting a sequence of skilfully chosen images to the cracking mind in the room.

It is funny Thomas. It is all funny... I was here to wait, that was my only reason to be created. Now the man I was waiting for is not here; he is dead. Isn't that funny? My one reason to be alive is no longer among the living. So what do I do now? Do I kill myself? Do I end myself with no other reason to live? You are right. It's funny. Do I try to kill everyone, thereby killing myself thanks to this fucking collar? So funny...

(One more scene before we bury this forever eh? Sounds good)

Tom brought his laughter under control slightly, still unable to stop himself chuckling when he felt no need to make such a sound,

"My vote is for not killing yourself... suicide is rarely funny. As for killing everyone... maybe you're already trying and don't know it. Maybe you're the killer with the hard-on for drama!" his chuckles degenerated into uncontrollable and uncharacteristic giggles, "That's the real joke though isn't it? The mind... it can play the best practical jokes ever."

He pulled his knees close to his chest and forced the giggles, the chuckles and the laughter to a stop,

"The real funny thing is life, my friend. They say it's the most perfect thing in the universe... but no one ever tells you that being perfect is so sickening." he shook his head, whiping away the tears, "Perfection is the height of human aspiration and it's the opposite of what everyone thinks it is. That's just one of the things that I find so unbelievably funny."

Looking up at Anton, Tom felt a spike of familar pain,

"Right now you're dealing with the humour in the humourless business of trying to find a purpose. Take it from someone who knows... it's a long road and all the services stations are filled with crappy KFCs and Travelodges!"

Anton's face remained grim, mourning the death of this poor man's mind. Though Tom meant absolutely nothing to him, he still felt as if the man played a part in his life - one so unfulfilled.

Your life, of course. You were born naturally into this world. You are a natural son of human beings. What am I? I was bred! I was bred for a purpose, and when that purpose has been taken from me, what do I live for? A horse is shot when his races are gone. I am a horse, Thomas! That is all I am!

Anton pushes himself to his full height, feeling the adrenaline that comes with an impulsive thought.

Kill me, Thomas! If you have a heart, kill me! You are right, suicide is not fit... Suicide is full of cowardice. End me, and I will be happy. If I am the killer, like you suggested, then you will be doing this prison a favour. Kill me!

The last two words are shouted into Tom's mind, seeming so realistic his body shakes momentarily as if from an impact of a shockwave.

Tom stood up quietly,

"I know how you feel Anton..." he shook his head slightly, "I was made by the physical act of two humans mating but I was born dead. A still-birth. I rose from the dead within the hour but by then the world knew me as a dead being."

He walked closer to his fellow inmate, his breathing deep and steady. He smiled faintly,

"To tell the truth Anton... this will liberate the both of us." he closed his eyes softly, "I am so tired of acting the fool to cling onto my mind. To be free from the prison of my self-imposed madness is something I have dreamed off for a long time..."

Shaking his head, he noticed how clear his mind was without his own forced laughter in his mind. He stood still and admired the silence for a few moments,

"Is this how you people think normally...?" he opened his eyes slowly, his hand slowly falling to the knife at his waist, "The silence... it's so peaceful. I can hear everything I'm thinking... all of my depressing thoughts... and none of them matter anymore."

He gripped the knife tight and locked eyes with Anton,

"This is a one way ticket Anton. To either heaven or hell." he looked at his fellow inmate for a few seconds, "But something tells me you don't care where you end up."

With a grunt of willpower, against the premptive shocks of his collar, Tom buried the knife into Anton's stomach. Blood surged out from the wound, coating the knife and his right hand. The shocks from the collar increased instantly, forcing all of his muscles to tense as the current arched through him. He gritted his teeth and twisted the knife savagely in Anton's stomach before stumbling backwards, spasming as the current increased. The bloody knife fell from his hand, clattering to the ground. His body contorted unnaturally under the influence of the current and he tumbled backwards onto the floor, twitching in silently agony. Mouth open in a silent scream, Tom's eyes darked into a deep red colour as the blood vessels burst within the orbs. Suddenly his chest bulged outwards violently as the water within his lungs and upper body were vaporised by the intensive current. With the massive damage to his internal organs done, Tom's body fell limp on the ground.

Thomas Gabriel's eyes, blinded by his own blood in the end, rolled backwards smoothly and his eyelids closed slowly.

With the impact of the blade in his stomach, Anton tried to scream, but all that can could be forced from his twisted throat was a meek whimper. His eyes swam in the tears that filled them, before he closed them tight to further endure the pain. A laugh rippled from his broken diaphragm when Anton felt a familiar shock ripple down his body.

They punish me for my own death... He thought, the laughter continue to shake his body, while he fell onto trembling knees, his hand clutching his ruined gut as if time could be reversed. But why would I want that?

His eyes opened, sympathy and respect being some of his last sane emotions in his mind as he saw Tom's body writhe violently, smoke rising from his mouth and the pores in his skin, his eyes turning an unnatural red. With weakening and shaking hands, Anton made the sign of a cross on his chest, with the speed of an old man.

Oh, God... I don't want to... I don't want to do this... I never saw life! I never saw... I never had love... I never made love! I-I don't want to...

His eyes, drowning in pain and regret finally opened, before the edge of panic and mortality opened his throat. Anton shaped the final breath that fled from his lungs with his mouth and tongue, creating a voice no living ears had ever heard, nor would ever hear. There would be no witness to the one miracle Anton had hoped for throughout his own existence.

"I don't want to die."

It was too late. The finally bout of pain racked his body, sending it into a spasm that lacked any control, and the young body of Anton Kurylenko fell to the floor, the last thought of regret and buried ambitions breaking from his powerful mind with a burst of floating dreams in the living brains throughout the prison damned by the bowels of Hell.

[ It has been fun roleplaying with you, my friend! What a way to make them go, eh? ]

(hehe, it's been a hell of a lot of fun Nick. I thought it was fitting to be honest. Broken men don't die as old men in my mind. I'll talk later okay? I have some sleeping to catch up on.)