hadriel_logs | Event Log: Assassin

Entry tags:

Event Log: Assassin

Who: Everyone!
What: The Assassin event
Where: Throughout the city
When: April 15th-23rd
Warnings: Inevitable character death, potential horror and gore and unpleasantness. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if it things get too bad!

The morning of April 15th in Hadriel is cheerful, with artificial light streaming through your window. Your blankets are warm, jabberjays are shrieking, and you're probably going to experience a murder attempt today.

Maybe it'll be from a stranger, maybe it'll be from a friend, but the bottom line is that everybody is after somebody and nobody is safe (...okay, twelve people are safe, but that's beside the point). Time will only tell when you'll be overcome by that murderous rage and try to kill someone else. The best thing you can probably do at this point is stay calm, keep your head high, and try not to die for the next eight days.

Helpfully, Rage will have restocked her armory for the event, for those of you have yet to arm themselves. Additionally, for a limited time only, the armory will be stocked with bear traps, tripwire (in both 'general wire' and 'barbed wire' flavor), and voice recorders. Use all of them, use none of them, just get on out there and kill each other!

Oh, and one last thing...

► This log covers April 15th-23rd.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► Did your assassin catch up to you? Please remember to hit up our death post!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Maketh scrambles to her feet, hands raised out in front of her in an attempt to ward Nick off. The rifle is lying on the floor by the bar, just out of reach. Not that it would be a good idea to grab it right now. It would just escalate things. Maketh doesn't want to hurt anyone else.] Rage. Is manipulating you!

[Nick halts in her tracks, laughing a hard, cruel laugh.]

Yeah, sure, blame one of the gods, that's an easy fix.

[She slides to the next nearest table and picks up a half-full glass, hurling it in Maketh's direction.]

Y'ever consider that maybe people just don't like you?

I've never even met you!

[Is this what Maketh looked like to that man when she shot him? Teeth bared, hate so clear in her eyes. Focused entirely on this one thing, which was ending a life because the one living it needed to be stopped. Maketh flinches when one of Nick's missiles finally strikes true, the glass hitting her in the arm and soaking her jacket before rebounding off and shattering across the floor. It smells like whiskey.] Do you even know what my name is?

Does it fucking matter?

[She's hated plenty of people she doesn't know. Emotions don't always follow logic, and right now, Nick's emotions have taken over, leaving no space for anything else in her mind.]

I can tell just by looking at you - you need to be over.

Yes, it very well matters! [Maketh keeps her arms up in a defensive position, shielding her face as best she can. Barring sociopaths and serial killers - and she's hoping Nick is neither - most people don't kill others for no reason. Newt and Rey made her see logic, so maybe --] Do you throw things at complete strangers? Is that what you do?

[Nick laughs loudly, grinning wide and full of teeth.]

I'm gonna bet you haven't got the words for what it is that I do.

[The transformation takes only seconds - one minute, Nick is how she was, and the next, she's taller, bigger, fashioned from porcelain and clad in stacks of black ribbons and lace. Long, dark curls of hair cascade over her shoulders, and a fissure in her forehead cuts a stark contrast to the smooth white surface surrounding it. Her eyes hinge open, glassy shocks of blue in her otherwise monochrome appearance. She no longer smiles, because her mouth is a painted-on pout, but her voice somehow rings out, deeper, a little distorted:]

Get ready to find out.

[Slowly, she raises up both arms, hands palms out, aiming for Maketh.]

[Oh, fuck. This was bad enough when Nick was a person having a bad moment, temper pulling her face into strange and uncomfortable shapes. But now Maketh knows the truth, she has power, oh fuck, Maketh is going to die.

It's inevitable, really. A gunshot wouldn't stop the Inquisitor. It certainly won't stop this.

Maketh lowers her hands and just closes her eyes. No point in trying to dodge. People like her aren't meant to fight this.]

[Chris just wanted to see if he could find an airplane bottle.

Since he doesn't really drink, it isn't even about the alcohol. He actually wants the bottle to store the last of something that's in a larger bottle, so he can use the larger bottle for something else. This extremely mundane plan is the only reason he steps into the bar, and is met with probably the last sight he's expecting.

It only takes a moment to figure out what must be going on--he isn't unaware of the event, even if he so far seems to have gotten lucky in not being involved--and another moment to react, crossing the room to step in front of Maketh and then turning his attention toward Nick.

Really looking at her--or the doll-thing that she becomes--makes him want to freeze on pure instinct, but that's exactly the opposite of what he needs to do. He needs to protect Maketh, and try to get through to Nick. Two goals, which he can focus on at the same time.

He steps back a little to better shield Maketh and raises his left hand placatingly toward Nick, his other hand down in case he needs to draw his gun. He really doesn't want to have to.]

Whoa, whoa, hey! N-Nick, stop, you don't want to do this.

[Please listen, at least enough not to just attack. He hadn't been too successful in convincing Emily not to go after Rhys, but it hadn't been dangerous to talk to her; then again, they had both been calm in their kitchen, not in the middle of a Rage-fueled attack.

He doesn't want to fight Nick, but he will if he has to. If she were thinking clearly he doesn't believe for a moment she would actually want to hurt Maketh, and even if she did... Maketh is his friend too, just like Nick is, and he's not about to just let her be killed.]

[Nick does have power now, and it's not something she's ever taken the time to consider, or embrace, only using in as a reflex, a reaction, an immediate response to something that's attacked her first. (Well, except that time with Ronan. Then she'd just wanted to be an asshole, but really, he was an asshole first, so.)

Chris is not a welcome sight to her eyes. She's steered clear of his house since he chewed her out for what she'd said to Emily, and he hadn't exactly tried to track her down, either, so that really only reinforced the conclusion she'd drawn - they're not friends anymore. Which is fine, she tells herself, she can take care of herself, she doesn't need friends. She's better off on her own; she's been saying that forever, hasn't she? So it's fine. F I N E. She doesn't need him.

Seeing him again now, though - it hurts more than she expected it would. Her eyes can't narrow into a glare when she's like this, but that's what she'd be doing if she could. How dare he try to stop her. She's angry still, but it's a different kind of anger, a more logical kind of anger, a sort that has an identifiable start, an anger that makes sense. It's not as strong as what she feels advancing on Maketh, but it's enough to shake her resolve the tiniest bit. She drops her hands down to her sides.]

Yeah? How the fuck would you know, anyway? You don't know what I'm thinking. Maybe I do.

[No, no, this is somehow worse. Chris is standing in front of her, blocking the attack. Acting as a shield.

Somehow, Nick doesn't go for his throat. They know each other, Maketh remembers. They might even be friends. Maketh takes a breath to steady herself and puts a hand on Chris' shoulder.] You -- you shouldn't be here.

It's okay, just stay back.

[He says it quietly, back toward Maketh, though his gaze stays on Nick. She's angry, which is no surprise considering the event, but there's more to it than that; more than the event anger, or different at least, and of course. They hadn't spoken since he'd snapped at her about Emily so of course she'd be mad at him, which makes him feel simultaneously guilty and angry in response.

But this is not the time for something as petty as that; this is going to be even more difficult than expected, which makes it even more important to stay calm and focus. Protect Maketh, and try to talk Nick down. She's lowered her hands at least, but he knows that could be very temporary.]

Yeah. M-Maybe you do right now, but this isn't... I-It's kind of hard to believe you wouldn't regret it.

[He thinks he knows her that well, at least. But then again, some bitter voice in the back of his head reminds him that maybe he's not really as good a judge of his friends as he likes to think.]

["Mad enough to kill" has always been a figure of speech for Nick, though she wouldn't deny she's felt anger running intensely hot all through her before, enough to break bones, enough to go right up to that edge and almost, almost tip over. But she hasn't gone over. Some shred of humanity has always stopped her, pulled her back from pushing too far, even at her worst, her angriest, her most hurt and wishing for nothing more than to cause pain in return. She's never actually killed someone before, and she's never considered that she would. "I'm gonna kill you" has always just been talk, an exaggeration. Everyone knows that.

But that's not what's happening here. Now, Nick knows she has it in her to go right up to that edge and gleefully hop over, because this bitch needs to die. It doesn't matter what her name is, or who she is, or what she's done - she just needs to cease existing, and Nick needs to be the one to do it.

Maybe, she thinks, idly, she's always been this monster underneath. Maybe she's just been fooling herself for the past twenty-six years in thinking she's a person. Maybe it's time to embrace her monstrosity, because then at least she wouldn't have to hide it anymore. She's tired of hiding, tired of pretending, tired of caring, tired of being something she's more and more certain she's not.]

Believe whatever you want about me. Just get outta my fucking way.

[It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks about her. Nick knows herself, and that's all that matters.]

[This is hardly the first time that someone has stood tall in front of Maketh and spat that they hated her, that she was going to die under their hands. It had happened once in training, twice with bounty-hunters on Lothal, and once with Henry, when she'd given orders and he had followed them with the quick professionalism of a true soldier. It's been years since Maketh has thought about that night in the Academy but she's remembering it now, the way Cadet Clee's face had twisted into something strange and mask-like. How she'd been so confused in the moment, but then suddenly calm - aware that nothing she could do or say would change the accuracy of his blow, or the inevitability of it meeting her skull with killing force.

She hadn't been afraid then. Just -- emptied out, in a way. She feels that way now, staring at the thing that was hiding under Nick's skin. If not for Chris, this would probably be a quiet moment.

Maketh holds herself very still, hands at the ready. When Nick lunges - because she will, Maketh is very sure - then she'll push Chris out of the way. Flatten him to the ground if she has to, because he is not going to die. It is not allowed.]

[For all his calm and ability to make decisions under pressure, Chris doesn't particularly consider himself a brave person. He's afraid of being hurt, even more afraid of dying, afraid of failing and letting down his friends and hurting someone's feelings and unexpected noises and the illusions of shadows he sees out of the corners of his eyes. Ever since that night on the mountain, there hasn't been a moment when he hasn't on some low, subconscious level been afraid.

But although he's scared--that Nick will kill both him and Maketh, that she'll do so and then after the event is over be so consumed with guilt that she can't get over it, that dying again will be too much for Maketh to deal with, that it would be too much for him to deal with--it's all secondary to the much more important need to protect his friends. It's Maketh who is in physical danger but Nick needs help too, just in a different way.

He'd let his fear override that need to protect people once before, and that had nearly led to Emily's death. Of all the things he regrets doing that night, that's one of the things he regrets most, and he won't make the same mistake twice.]

I'm not going anywhere, Nick.

[The unspoken addition that if she wants to attack Maketh she'll have to attack him too is clear, and he hopes it'll be enough. That she'll be able to control herself--that she'll care to, even if she's angry with him--and that everyone can get out of this situation alive.

But if not...

He can sense the shift in Maketh's posture, so hyperfocused on everything going on, and he really hopes she won't intervene. But he knows he would, if the situations were reversed, and the hand still at his side moves just a little to shift the hem of his hoodie. It had been hiding the handle of the gun he has tucked into the back of his belt, but if he had to grab the weapon in a hurry it needs to be out of the way, and this way hopefully Maketh can see that he has a backup plan even if he really doesn't want to have to use it.]

[She hears exactly what it is that Chris isn't saying, and it burns her from the inside out, like this flame of hatred and rage is burning her doll-hollow insides. Of course he'd choose this other woman over her. Everyone always chooses someone else over Nick. When will she ever learn.]

Fine. You think that fake Lifetime-special bullshit speech about friendship that you fed me means I won't kill you too? You're wrong. If you're not with me, Chris, then you're against me. And right now, you're in my way.

[She's hesitated long enough. This has all gone on long enough. Nick slowly raises her hand again, feeling the build of dark energy in her porcelain palm. If Chris wants to get himself killed for this bitch, that's fine by Nick. Nobody asked him to stick his nose into this business. He's just getting what he deserves.]

[Things happen quickly then. Maketh hears the strange echo of Nick's voice, the twist of the thing that's become her face, and remembers the Inquisitor. Remembers the way he smiled before killing her men. As if he'd enjoyed it. Enjoyed making them watch. She thinks, not again, and barrels into Chris, striking at his knee to knock him down. It's going to hurt and she knows it's going to hurt, but he needs to be out of the way. Maketh makes a grab for his gun but can't quite get her hand around, it in time. The move has left her exposed to Nick's attack.]

[Nick's response isn't the one he was hoping for, but Chris had been prepared for it and tries to ignore the sting of her words and reminding himself it's an event. She's being influenced and that's why she's doing this, and that's why he needs to stop her. Why it will, hopefully, be best for her to stop her, not just him and Maketh.

Decision made, he's ready to pull his gun--

Then something slams into him, followed by a shock of blinding pain through his bad knee, and he hits the ground a moment later. But for all his lack of grace his reflexes are quick in a fight and he twists around, both so he can aim a kick with his good leg back toward whatever had struck him--it's Maketh; some part of him knows it's Maketh but he's too caught up in reacting on instinct to really register it--and so he can draw his revolver.

Taking a shot from the floor is not exactly the form Bob had taught him, and not exactly something he's done before, but it doesn't matter. The giant doll that Nick's become just seems even bigger and more threatening now and for the first time he wonders if shooting her will even hurt her, but it's too late to try to figure that out. Instead he raises his gun, aiming for one of her doll eyes--the only place he thinks it might hut a wendigo to shoot, so maybe it would work on her too--but then he sees the crack in the porcelain of her forehead.

In a moment he shifts aim just a fraction, letting instinct guide the motion rather than conscious thought, no room for worries about whether this will work or if he can even make the shot. Then he fires.]

[Everything that happens next unfolds like a scene from a movie, one of those hyper-real moments in life that are too sharp to be real, except they are, and you know they are by the aftermath, how you're left breathless and spinning and struggling to stay upright. You look back and remember it later, replaying it over and over in your mind, and the moments stretch out slowly, so far you forget they're moments and not an actual eternity. When Kennedy broke up with her, Nick remembers those high-contrast moments feeling the same as this; so too when Andy said they were through being friends. It feels like the entire world bottoming out underneath her feet.

It's what getting shot feels like.

She's been shot before in Morphus, but the bullets only chipped her porcelain skin, leaving bruises and scrapes behind once she was back to resembling a human, quickly healed over and forgotten. Nick never knew she had such an obvious weak spot, though she'll think about it later, after she's regained consciousness again, and laugh bitterly under her breath about it, because it's obvious to the point of being a farce.

She doesn't laugh now, though. Chris pulls a gun on her and fires, and the world stops with the sound of the blast ringing through the room. Nick doesn't move, or at least she thinks she doesn't move - can't move - but what happens instead, since she's lost her focus, is that she shrinks back into human form, dazed and wide-eyed, now with a deep gash in her forehead where the crack was in the doll - the spot where Chris shot her. Nick stumbles, then sinks to her knees and coughs up a bloody mouthful - including the bullet, which clatters on the floor in front of her. Then she slumps forward onto the floor, breathing but entirely unconscious.]

[Down he goes, lashing out in the fall, and Maketh feels a brief sense of sharp satisfaction - this small thing has gone according to plan - before Nick's blow catches her. Not in the face, as was intended, but in the meat of her shoulder. There's the smell of burning meat and then impact, but no pain.

Strange, that there's no pain.

Maketh watches Nick go down and then reaches out to touch her shoulder. Her hand comes away red. She can see the white of bone shining through her jacket, the spit of connective tissue rolled back and burnt.] Oh.

[It's both expected and surreal that he hits his target--he's never missed before--but as soon as he does, and the doll turns back into Nick, he really realizes what's just happened. He shot someone, his friend, and she--

She doesn't look dead. Hurt, but not dead, and there's a sudden flood of relief amidst the tension and fear and underneath his pounding heartbeat. She's not dead. They need to get her some help and figure out how badly she's hurt, but maybe she'll be alright; he hadn't killed her.

Next goal in mind, Chris gets up to his good knee so he can shift to look at Maketh, and then he sees her face and her hand and follows her gaze to her shoulder. For a moment he's not sure what happened or what exactly he's looking at, so focused on shooting at Nick that he hadn't noticed the attack, but then it clicks together.

His stomach lurches and he feels nauseous for a moment at the sight of the injury, but he's seen worse and freaking out won't help right now. Stay calm, don't panic, do something.

Chris gets painfully to his feet, managing the one step it takes to reach Maketh and trying to catch eye contact.]

Okay, okay, sit down for a sec.

[First thing first; she needs to sit down, they need to stop the bleeding--right? He doesn't know what to do with an injury like this--and then he needs to get her to the clinic or a healer or something. He needs to do the same with Nick too, and he's only one person and how is he going to do this?

Don't freak out. One thing at a time.]

[You are going into shock, Maketh tells herself. This is a process. First you will feel nothing. Then you will be cold. And then, if it gets worse, you will be very tired. Maketh sways, then goes down abruptly - falling more than actually sitting. It accomplishes the same thing in the end.

She blinks at Chris, trying to assess him for injuries. She got him in his bad knee, but he's alive. He'll recover.

Remember the protocol. Remember your training.

Maketh takes a slow breath, tries to assess the situation. She can smell burning meat. There's blood on her hands. She can see bone shining through the mess of her coat, ruined now. The blow cauterized the worst of it. So maybe --

Focus, Maketh reminds herself.] Did it hit an artery? You can tell. If the blood is pulsing.

[Her voice comes out remarkably calm.]

[He does his best to help guide her to the floor when she drops, sinking down to his knees again as well; the motion sends another sharp jolt of pain through his leg, but he can ignore it for now.

Okay, focus. He listens to Maketh's question, turning his attention back to the injury and forcing out of his mind just how horrific it looks and the memories it dredges up. Look for any signs of an artery or vein being hit.]

No, I don't think so.

[His own voice is calm as well, but distant; his mind is in too many places at once for his words to have much thought behind them, let alone emotion. He takes off his glasses briefly so he can pull his hoodie off over his head, shoving them back on with one hand and then pressing the fabric firmly against her shoulder. It'll probably hurt, but even if an artery isn't damaged controlling the bleeding is the first--and pretty much only--step he knows.

He casts another glance briefly back at Nick, checking that she's still alive and hasn't moved, and there's an anxious twist in his chest at the sight of her and that he can't do anything to help her right now but he needs to focus on Maketh for the moment.

And he needs to call someone. He can't get either of them to the clinic--even if he could walk well enough to carry one of them he'd still have to leave the other and therefore need someone else to help anyway--but he doesn't know who to ask for help. Ash would come, but he doesn't want her to see any of this and she probably couldn't help much anyway; Em would also help, but there's only so much she could do. Josh is strong enough to carry one of them, but relying on Josh is risky at best. Jess is still too fragile to do much.

That leaves people he's met here, who he runs through his head; Bob and Koda are options, if they're not dealing with their own event-related issues, and while he knows who Nick's target is he doesn't know who's after her, or who Maketh's target for the event might be. He could just make the whole situation worse.

Don't panic. Think.]

Is there someone I should call to help?

[Maketh probably has friends he doesn't know. Maybe she has an idea, and it'll give her something to focus on besides the injury.]

[That's good, holding pressure against the wound. Maketh presses her hand to it without thinking - waiting for the pain to come and steal her breath, but strangely it doesn't. She can barely feel anything above her waist. Her hands are cold and strangely clumsy. Maketh has the strangest feeling that she's watching the whole mess as it happens to someone else. A stranger.] Lilith.

[Maketh focuses on her breathing, making it slow and steady. Lilith would get there the fastest. She could call Henry, but he doesn't know enough about medicine to be of much help and Lilith is fast. That's going to matter in a moment or two. Something stutters in her chest, the first stab of pain, and Maketh grimaces.] I think, uh -- did I break your knee? I didn't mean to...

[He can feel how cold her hands are when she presses one against the fabric, and he knows that means she's probably going into shock. He knows the basics of first aid, fortunately, enough to know what to do next.]

You need to lay down, okay?

[She's supposed to lay down, prop her feet up on something--a chair would probably work, if he can actually get to one--but laying down is the most important part. He nods at the mention of Lilith, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping through menus to try to establish a connection with her.

His attention is one that when Maketh asks her question, and he shakes his head even if he doesn't actually know the answer; he isn't thinking about the pain shooting through his leg, so while it's definitely there he doesn't have any idea how serious it might be. It's pretty unimportant at the moment anyway, considering Maketh and Nick's conditions.]

It's fine. I think I can forgive you for like, trying to keep me from getting killed.

[Maketh nods vaguely and does as she's told. The ground is cold. Everything is starting to get cold now. Her coat is ruined now, which is a shame. She's grown fond of it. Perhaps overly so. Such sentiment is discouraged by the Empire and it's only an object, anyway. A collection of fabric and buttons and metal zippers that reminds her, strangely, of her father. She'll have to find a new one now, unless Hope is kind enough to provide a fresh one when she dies.

If she dies, Maketh corrects silently. That would be -- unwise. At this stage.] You're doing well.

[It feels important that Chris knows this. That he's doing exactly as he ought to in this situation. Maketh breathes out through her nose, mouth thinned into a sharp line. It hurts now, a deep throb inside her chest.] Is she -- ?

[There hasn't been any movement, so Nick is either down or dead.]

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