“Since I was a child I’ve always loved a good story. I always thought I could play some small part in that grand tradition. So I began to compose a new story for them. It begins with the birth of a new people and the choices they will have to make… and the people they will decide to become.”
— read weekly on Tumblr or the full story on AO3
Stories (in “Trending Now”) —
SHARD Tactical by @hathorik
California Dreamin’ by @pheedraws
Fates by @fatesrpg
Aphelion by @something-tofightfor & @the-blind-assassin-12
Woven Destinies by @isilrina
The Operative by @nostrategy-justdo
Chapter wordcount: 1.3K
Rating: Mature
Warning: MIB's POV again. And Lawrence being Lawrence....... just as hard.
Author’s notes: Aaand now let's shuffle the deck again. And raise.
Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!
— Chapter 47
The scraping of hooves on the pebbles, the growing unison or restless horses… Those nags were abnormally loud, this morning. In spite of his sense of alert, it still was only the cocking sound of guns that pulled William out of his sleep for good; in front of him was standing a row of hosts, on foot and riding — masked, other naked, a few gunslingers — and he bolted upright, back against his saddle in the face of a colt aimed right at his forehead, his hand reaching for his own weapon beside him. But it wasn’t there anymore.
"Don’t even bother to try…"
William knew that voice very well, and all the polite hatred aimed at him he could hear in it.
"Ah, Teddy…" He sighed, almost as put out as he was amused, but he raised his hands. "Are we going to do this again?"
He scoffed before adding, cocky:
"You’re free enough to kill me, this time?"
In fact, he was actually a little scared at the moment; his plan of attack was completely fucked, now! The outcome would still be real, on top of pretty ironic, but if William still had a choice, he would have preferred to fight Dolores. Not her watchdog. By the way, where was his own now — would one of those have gotten a sledge or a cleaver to him, too?!
He shot a brief glance at the row of hosts that was closing as a half-circle around him, but there was no trace of Lawrence.
"Right now, you’re coming with us." Teddy carried on, ignoring his taunt. "Get up!"
As he was invited to — and planning to, anyway — William stood up, in no hurry. He looked all around; one of the bandits on horseback was holding Teddy’s by the reins, a little farther behind those masked hosts. One of them was tightening and loosening his fist on the handle of a cutlass, visibly eager to slash it across his face.
"Why would I come with you?" William wondered, readjusting his jacket and vest. "I’m perfectly fine on my own."
And, on his own, he surely was since Lawrence had disappeared, or got killed — killed for having been the one watching over him, if what he had brought up the previous night was to be believed. In that moment, William regretted not to have been a bit more curious then.
"For the same reason you are following us," Teddy replied, without lowering his gun.
"I thought you didn’t want to kill me!" William laughed.
It was a bit of an admittance of his intentions, but it was also a nice opportunity to test Teddy’s limits. The latter, for now, had a little more in his eyes than that sulky, harmless anger William knew him. And that, since Ford had tickled his code, or whatever it was he’d done that night, back in Rattlecreek.
Now, if he had understood and felt threatened by the answer, Teddy didn’t flinch, jaw clenched, and gestured him to move with the barrel of his gun. The row of hosts split like a guard of honor and then, William felt a burst of frustration when his eyes landed on Lawrence, a good two yards right in front of him, unscathed and weapon in his holster, tying the horses to the horn of his saddle.
Motherfucker… William internally grumbled. And this same motherfucker turned to him, relaxed and with a cocky smile which made his seethe.
"What the… What did you do, you dipshit?!"
"What does it look like?" Lawrence retorted.
William scoffed; it looked like a furious urge to unload his gun in his guts! He slowly shook his head.
"Didn’t you want to catch up on that girl, Dolores?" He faked his surprise. "I made certain you did! They can bring you to her."
Jutting his chin and with a smartass smile, he pointed at Teddy behind him.
"So, I found a way to arrange a meetin’."
"You ungrateful bastard…" William grumbled, shaken by a repressed laugh. "What about the girl you wanted to protect by ending all this?"
Lawrence came forth, letting the reins fall to the ground.
"Ain’t she safe where she is, now?"
The sarcasm felt a bit irritating to William.
"Did she program you from up there to… turn on me, and run back to her?" he then retorted on the same tone. "I thought you were free of your choices…"
But Lawrence brushed his taunt off with a nod and a lopsided smile.
"No, she didn’t do anythin’…"
He stepped forward a little more, walking down the path made by those masked faces with the same confidence he had seen him show around the Confederados in the streets of Pariah, as if the very ideas of these same goons hadn’t made him shake in his boots the night before as much as the Ghost braves used to!
"And I want to put an end to all that bullshit alright," he continued, stopping right in front of him, close enough to throw hands. "But you seem to think your girlfriend and her posse are the only ones that need stoppin’. That ain’t how it looks to me…"
William gritted his teeth and nodded slowly, resigned. Now, he was starting to get what this shrewd asshole was pulling to him!
"What about those mercenaries and other blackcoat assholes?" he brought up. "They are the ones who keep me from getting out of here, them also who tried to kill my tech, and gunned down the friends who tried to protect her."
This revelation surprised William; why would the response teams or the hirelings of Delos’ crisis unit — he wasn’t sure who Lawrence was on about in this specific case — have wanted to kill a Behavor tech?! Save for being idiots and mistaking her for a host?
This question made him furrow his brows. He had the unpleasant feeling that something was still eluding him.
"Yeah," Lawence insisted, nodding to his reaction. "They’re my enemy, and the one they work for as well…"
William grinned.
"Like you said, you own this place." Lawrence then reminded him. "Way I see it, you’re as much a threat to be dealt with about now."
"Do you really think those idiots will be enough to get rid of them?"
William shot a glance at Teddy above his shoulder before continuing:
"You don’t know shit, Lawrence!"
And on his end, he felt a quick shiver of panic. Not that he was afraid so to speak… It was more about the fact that he didn’t want someone to decide that the best course of action would be to pull the plug before he could have finished what he was determined to do because of this setback.
"You don’t know what’s outside this park, what they’re gonna do to handle the situation…"
"You’re right," Lawrence interrupted him. "Maybe I don’t… but I remembered a lot since I learned the hard truth."
And he added with one of his insolent smiles and a nod:
"Thanks to you!"
There was a bit of bustle around them; a horse snorted and a few of the gunslingers made their mounts turn back.
"I told you once."
And William flinched at how serious Lawrence’s face suddenly was, and the knowing look he had for Teddy.
"If I had to do it all again, I’d fuck you both over…"
A rifle butt behind William’s head made him fall to his knees in a grunt, ears ringing and all his perceptions blurred.
"Just as hard."
Those words were the last thing he had a grip on before passing out for real, and falling glat on the ground. That was a shit morning…
Tag list: @hathorik , @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor , @the-blind-assassin-12 ...
Vivian: What’s your default starbucks order? What’s Lawrence’s? Would you swap?
AHAH. 💕
"Well... My default order would be a hot latte. Though, I like a Pistachio or Cookie and Cream Frappuccino from time to time. And Lawrence, it's regular black coffee. He tried all the available flavours, by now. But he heard about something called Nitro Cold Brews, now? Didn't try any yet, but he won't shut up about it... I'm not sure I would swap on everything he tried... but a few things were nicer than my own order, I admit."
If you were to assign tarot cards to the characters of 'Improvisation Only' and 'Journey Into Night', which card(s) of the Major Arcana would you say corrosponds to each one?
Hi, Anon! Thank you for popping by! It means a lot to me that people come to talk to me about my little stories!! 🥰🙏
Now, Hhmm… 🤔 That's an interesting question! And to answer to it, I will go from the standpoint that you saw the show (obviously) and read my stories too. (Thank you from the bottom of my heart for that!!! 💖✨)
All that to say, beware, spoilers!
Vivian: The High Priestess, because Vivian is a very calm, introverted person with a lot of intuition and potential. She trusts what she learned in CS, and what she's still learning with her new 'teachers' now in the park, but she doesn't believe in herself. She thinks she's imagining things when she starts to have doubts about hosts' perceptions and memory but she's literally going through the same realisation Arnold had gone through himself 30 odd years ago, discovering one of the darkest and best kept secrets of the park.
Lawrence: The Hanged Man (and maybe, the writers had the same idea ! 😁), because he knew even in his roles that he couldn't control everything around, so he'll just be patient, sit back, and let things happen to wait for the outcomes and use them to his advantage or that of his cause. But, if by his life or death he can serves his cause, protect those he cares about, he will be ready to sacrifice himself, to let himself die so they could live… or escape.
Zeke: The World, because Zeke is a safe haven in a safe haven who never changed role and never moved from Pariah and his posada. He's one of those fixed points throughout the park, almost a greeter host to whom just a little nudge will suffice to make him fully sentient, or at least aware of his reality without him glitching all that much. If at all… He basically knows who and what he is already and he's just not afraid of what's coming next! He'll just bring another bottle and more cigars.
Ike: The Tower, because this guy is chaos on legs. Ike has a gun and dad jokes, and he's ready to make it everyone else's problem. But once you won or earned his trust you'll have a friend for life (and his will be very long by hosts' standards), a friend that can and will kill for you on command without even blinking before asking who's next.
Rafe: The Hermit, as Rafe is going through some tough cognitive shit and tries to sort it out on his own, while his mind is currently having a rave party. He doesn't exactly like to be alone but he's kind of a loner who feels himself becoming a danger to everyone, himself included. He tries to understand and process what's happening to him, what does 'Arnold' wants, and how to deal with those painful memories of dying so many time, and what it means about him before it drives him definitely mad.
Josela: The Wheel of Fortune, because for a very long time, Josela laughed at the face of danger, ready to take a bullet for El Lazo and then Zeke without considering that her luck could run out, and that it will be the end of the game for her. Because, as they say, "nobody truly ever dies in Pariah"… But out of the walls of the town, she realises danger is very real and not only she can die, but her friends too! And this triggers her to rush headlong in her own inner maze up to realise and accept the nature of her reality like she's just been dealt a new interesting hand at a game of poker she rightly intends to win!
Hank: The Star, because despite being a very soft-spoken, shy and lethal with weapons from colt to knives kind of guy, Hank is also very sweet and cheerful, encouraging and supportive. And, without spoiling too much but just a little tiny bit about what's to come in future chapters, he will be a reminder that the 'universe' is working in Vivian and Lawrence's favor, as well as all the hosts', and that they should (literally) hang on and trust what comes next in their storied lives! (✌️🤡…)
Armistice: (because I love her so much and she will have a big role to play in the story later on) The Chariot, because [spoilers].
Chapter wordcount: 4k
Rating: Mature
Warning: mention of gruesome violence, screams and fear from a new group of guests, ... the 'calm' before the storm™ !!!
Author’s notes: There are still guests alive in this park (thankfully...), and they are about to make it The Posse's problem. Also, SHARD's threat is still looming... but so is "Wyatt's".
Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!
— Chapter 26
It was the pain of her sleeping position that had started to stir Vivian from her sleep, that more than the two voices in the room; one was Lawrence’s, low and vibrating under her cheek and the other sounded like a kid’s.
For now, Vivian had a hard time coming to and, as nothing seemed to threaten them, she didn’t hurry, even in spite of how numb her legs and her right arm were.
"Ma’ told me to hide when she saw you comin’," she heard the little voice whispering, very close.
"Yeah?" Lawrence answered, his voice creaking a little, like when talking to his horse. "She did good."
Vivian felt his hand stroking her arm; she was still huddled against him but had apparently slid from his shoulder to his chest during the night.
"Y’all bandits, she said!" the little voice insisted.
And Lawrence scoffed.
"What d’you think?"
"Folks don’t get shot if… if they ain’t bandits," the kid muttered bashfully.
"We must be bandits then."
Vivian could perfectly picture his expression in her mind, based on nothing more than the tone of his voice — from lopsided smile, to his narrowed eyes in a falsely threatening look. She cracked a smile.
"Y’ain’t gonna steal our stuff, right?" the kid worried.
"Depends…" Lawrence creaked, his fingers still stroking Vivian’s shoulder. "What is there to steal?"
"Eggs," the boy answered, shifting from one foot to the other, the coarse planks of wood groaning under his weight. "And… and Betsy’s milk."
"Eggs?" Lawrence echoed, as if the kids had just piqued his interest. "Nah, we don’t do that, stealing eggs."
He chuckled again before adding:
"You should go back to hide, no need to worry your mother. We’ll be gone before long anyway…"
The kid didn’t need more to be convinced, the dusty floorboards vibrating under his pitter patter back to the bedroom. Vivian couldn’t hold back a weak groan at the shaking of the hardwood floor in her painful legs. She sat up, grumpy.
"Hey, good mornin’," Lawrence greeted her with laugher in his voice.
He let her escape from the arc of his arm and Vivian rubbed her eyes and her cheek, in which she wouldn’t be surprised to find imprints of the fabric folds.
"Mmh," she muttered. "Mornin’…"
She pushed the strands of hair escaped from her braid behind her ears and frowned when her blood painfully resumed its normal course through her veins.
"Sorry," she croaked.
"What for?"
Vivian felt herself blush.
"For sleeping on you…"
Again, Lawrence chuckled. He stroke her cheek with a finger and brushed away one lone strand of hair on her temple. This sweet gesture brought her to a better mood and Vivian smiled to him. Opposite to her, a curious pair of eyes was watching them; it was a young boy with tousled air who, when he locked eyes with her, closed the bedroom’s door in a gasp of surprise. Lawrence stood up with slightly stiff moves which brought Vivian’s attention back to him.
"Wake Rafe up," he told her as he held his hand out to her. "I’m gonna get the horses ready with the others…"
She put her hand in his and he helped her to her feet and still numb legs.
"Ok…"
He picked his hat up, keeping it in his hand before leaving the room; outside, it wasn’t quite day yet and Vivian felt around her wrist to glance at her watch. It was barely six in the morning.
With a sigh, she stretched all her muscles, arms raised, rolling her shoulders as if to put them back in place with a painful groan. And she would still have to ride a horse with all that…
She hoped she could trade with the farmer for a fruit or anything else lighter to eat than jerky for breakfast before leaving. But for now, she crouched by Rafe and put a hand on his thick arm.
Then, she hesitated to call him. The fact that he didn’t wake up on his own worried her suddenly; the warmth of his skin was reassuring however, and it was obvious that he was breathing, even weakly.
The bloodstains on his bandages were larger than last night and Vivian moved them apart as carefully as she could to look at the farmer’s needlework. Honestly, it was all she had imagined horsehair stitches made on the fly by a host whose primary function were far from medicine could look like; it was coarse but it would hold until the end of a guest’s adventure and a return to Livestock… Excepted that this adventure wasn’t a narrative, and that there was no returning to Livestock anymore. Vivian nibbled hard on her lips to the point of waking the pain in her wound. She could try cauterizing Rafe while she was alone!
Like the crook she was, she cast a sweeping look all around her before searching for Petersen’s cauter in her leather pouch. The feel of her tablet made her shiver but she focused on her current task — she had to hurry!
Her hands a bit clamy and shaking from the anxiety that the sense of urgency was giving her, Vivian pressed the switch and turned her cauter on. Or at least, she tried…
"What the fuck?!" she grumbled, her jaw clenched, shaking the thing.
She pressed again but still nothing happened. The indicator light didn’t even shine. Anger made Vivian’s blood boil and she slamed the cauter against her palm until it hurt. Sometimes, concussive maintenance could do miracles.
Not this time.
And yet, after a long press on the switch, one of the light finally turned on — the red one. This piece of shit had to be out of battery, or simply busted. Vivian was starting to understand why this cauter was in the bottom of a drawer and not on its usual stand… What a dumbass!
She raged against herself and against this useless tool in her balled fist.
"Fuck…"
Vivian closed her eyes and let out a slow, dejected sigh. She should have checked this cauter before, or in the meantime… Why hadn’t she? What was she thinking?!
The harm was done now. No need to beat herself up over it, it wouldn’t get her anywhere. It was a bit too late now to be wise and use her head, though, and Vivian didn’t manage to quell the anger she felt against herself as easily as that.
Fuck it, she’d keep that thing anyway — if she was to find a charging stand in Las Mudas, or anywhere else, she might be glad to have held on to it. She was about to put the cauter back into her pouch when a strong grasp closed on her wrist; Vivian gasped to hold back a frightened yelp. Her widened eyes landed on Rafe, perfectly awake.
He sat up without letting go of her arm and, frowning, he looked at the cauter still in her hand. Vivian kept her lips pursed and contained her protest — he was kinda hurting her.
"Wattcha doin’?" he grumbled.
"I—I… I wanted to make sure your wounds are alright!"
A second of tensed silence lingered in the room and Vivian didn’t make a move, holding her breath. Rafe’s gaze fell on her hand and the cauter.
"And what’s that?"
She mumbled a couple sounds before making sense of her thoughts.
"It’s a tool that could help you heal faster," she admitted to him. "I mean, in theory… 'cause right now, it doesn’t work anymore."
"Already seen that before…"
The tone of his voice sounded a bit calmer. Vivian nodded. She relaxed when Rafe’s grasp loosened a little. So, she hazarded a guess:
"Probably when Marichka took care of you. She healed my leg with the same kind of tool at Zeke’s…"
Rafe nodded in his turn, looking lost in thought and Vivian didn’t add anything; she observed him, careful. It was surprising how well he was taking the truth, considering his cognition was just fried… Or maybe it was actually because it did that it was getting through to him so well?
Without releasing Vivian from his grip, Rafe got up surprisingly fast and easy for a badly hurt man, and he helped her to her feet to stand with him, almost forcefuly.
"I’m alright," he replied. "See, no need for anythin’ to make me heal faster…"
He released Vivian’s wrist to put his large hands on his bushy chest.
"Ain’t gonna die," he boasted. "Can’t, now…"
Vivian gave him a sad smile and put a gentle hand on Rafe’s arm.
"I don’t want you to," she whispered to him, moved. "So, be careful anyway, ok?"
Rafe chuckled and he patted her arm with a strong push that sent her stagger.
Having left at the crack of dawn without taking the time to swallow anything else than a gulp of lukewarm water, Lawrence’s posse only resumed its gallop once they were back on the road. And if at first Rafe had all of Vivian’s attention even though he seemed stabilized, she was also wary of the sky which was clearing and the drone that could still be spying on them from up there. And that, even though she was pretty sure that the surveillance array had been brought back online along with the system… And against that, there was nothing Vivian could do.
Keeping her tablet off wouldn’t change a thing; if without its signal, she herself would only appear on the holographic projections as a guest whose identity would have been lost in the chaos — unless anyone up there bothered to run a facial recognition — the five hosts around her were still broadcasting a perfectly trackable signal for the control room.
This whole thought had something frustrating for Vivian who turned her focus back on the road, and on Rafe. Who was starting to slouch in his saddle.
Vivian hurried her horse’s canter to join Rafe’s, in front of her. Right away, Lawrence ordered a break with a brief, high-pitched whistle which reached Hank and Ike, a few strides ahead; they turned around to a trot while Josela was grabbing Rafe’s horse’s reins. Neither the horse, nor its rider complained. To be fair, Rafe looked completely dazed. Lawrence made his horse trot in a circle around them all.
"We’re gonna stop a moment," he stated.
Vivian let out a brief sigh. Her thoughts exactly!
Even if she was on the opposite side from Rafe’s injury, she could see that his wound had started bleeding again; the brownish scabs from the day before were once more wet and glistening with freshly dripped blood. Vivian was already expecting what she would find under the bandages as Josela was leading Rafe’s horse to the side of the road that Ike deemed to be safe enough.
All a little too tense by this forced stop, Rafe and Vivian were the only ones to get down their horses. The others would keep watch while she’d treat him — that she would do what she could, at least.
Rather docile despite a few protests, Rafe had clumsily set foot to ground and let Vivian help him out of his pierced vest and shirt, both already stiff with dried blood too, and now soaked again.
Came the moment of undoing his bandages; as she was expecting, one of the stitches got busted and the bleeding resumed. The pain didn’t seem to be Rafe’s problem right now, calm and resilient as he was. Vivian was suffering for him, though.
"How d’you feel?" she asked him on a low voice. "Is there a spot that hurts more than another?"
Too bad if her questions were borderline diagnostic.
"No, I’m fine," Rafe fended off, as if to play it down. "Don’t even hurt that much…"
Vivian scoffed.
"I trust you on that!"
Him confirming wasn’t really to reassure her, though. It was just an additional proof of the conflict between his cognition and his programming. He rubbed his cheeck and his temple again, on the side where he had been hit on the head. She finished to take the bandages off and cleaned the wounds with water from her canteen before going to get some of the other strips that the farmer had given her before they left.
Somehow, it was pointless; the hosts couldn’t die from an infection or any other stuff like that but it was almost more superstitious than anything else, like a way to put every chances on their side for Rafe’s survival. At least long enough for them to reach somewhere she could recharge her cauter and close his wounds before he’d loose too much blood to function.
For now, she would cut some more gause in the least gross parts of used bandage. Reusing her knife gave her a sinking feeling but she held her breath with each bite of the blade in the fibers.
"He told me that… that you could help me…"
Perplexed, Vivian caught Rafe’s gaze as she put her knife back into the sheathe at her belt to unroll one of the sheet strips.
"What are you talking about?"
"Arnold…"
The strips almost jumped from her hands. Rafe let her wrap it around his stomach and, for a turn or two of cloth, Vivian didn’t say anything. Then, after a look at Lawrence who was studying the map with Ike, she dared to whisper a question:
"You heard him talk to you again… since?"
He didn’t answer. And this silence increased Vivian’s worry. She faced him to knot the bandage in front of him.
"Rafe… was it Arnold who told you to attack those… those men, yesterday?"
"No," he finally said, seemingly still serene. "I just didn’t want them to kill us."
Vivian pursed her lips.
"You’re the one they were lookin’ for and you wanted to let them take you away to… to save us," he continued, without raising his voice. "I heard that alright!"
This time, she gritted her teeth; he had been close enough to hear, true. And hearing Rafe, this assault hadn’t been more inspired by this glitch, this supposed signature, than by the the restriction’s removal or a moment of panic, emotional or cognitive — even if it had been rash, here again it had been his decision…
Despite the state of his cognition, Rafe was using all the skills put at his disposal in his build and his narratives to keep going — and that like any other individual would use their experience. Even through their traumas.
Vivian couldn’t hold back a shudder.
"How is he?" Lawrence inquired, from the top of his horse which he had brought beside them. "Do you need help?"
Vivian shook her head but Rafe was already replying:
Lawrence cracked a smile despite his frown and straightened up in his saddle.
"That’s good news, my friend. Can you ride?"
"I’d recommend a slow pace," Vivian told Lawrence who nodded. "Gallop’s not gonna do him any good. One of his stitches is bu—"
"I’m good!” Rafe uttered as he stood up without stumbling. "I can ride, and I can gallop! No need to make such a fuss for me, Ivy!"
He picked up his vest and shirt on the way and put them back on with more ease than he had gotten out of them.
"No bullet that can take me down has been cast yet!"
"Ok!" she gave up with a smile and her hands raised before rubbing her palms on her pants. "Have it your way!"
He held a hand out to her and brought her back to her feet with one pull.
"Let’s go, I don’t want us to lose any more time ’cause of me," he grumbled.
Vivian got the reins of her horse back from Josela’s hands and, all in their saddle, they went back on the road at a walking pace. When Lawrence slowed down his horse to let Vivian catch up with him, he asked her:
"How is he, really?"
"One of his stitches didn’t hold," she admitted. "And I think that simply getting back in the saddle is enough tear the ones that are still holding…"
She bobbed her head, leaving the rest at Lawrence’s understanding. Clotting would eventually happen and create an efficient plug to avoid another bleeding but in the meantime, Vivian would have done everything she could to keep as much pressure as possible in his veins.
"Thanks," Lawrence whispered. "For trying to keep him alive…"
Surprised but touched by his gratitude, Vivian only let out an indefinite sound before looking down at her hands, one on the reins and the other on her saddle’s horn. There, she noticed a bit of dried blood under the bitten short nails of her right hand, and her own froze in her veins; was it Rafe’s, or that of this merc they had left for the crows?
Queasy, she bent over in her saddle and she rubbed her fingers vigorously against her vest until they hurt. When she inspected them again, all traces of blood had disappeared and Vivian blamed herself that she might even have imagined it!
Shaking from a cold sweat, she turned back to Lawrence whose collected poise reassured her a bit, before focusing on the road, a ribbon of dirt waving in the yellowing greenery.
And this road took them farther on open terrain after having already led them away from the main river for a few hours; in front of them, were now standing out the curves and the valleys of high tree-covered hills behind which Vivian knew they would find Las Mudas.
They would still have to snake in the brush for a while, but they were reaching their destination. Even if, once there, Vivian knew they wouldn’t be any safer. In fact, they might even be even more in danger if QA’s teams had already intervened in this sector…
Head low and rocked by the steps of her horse, Vivian muffled a slow sigh in the folds of her neckerchief in a vain attempt to curb her anxiety. What was also worrying her, was the idea that she would have to turn her tablet back on in a bit, probably even before their arrival in Las Mudas, to define what she could do to disable this explosive charge… if there was even anything she could do about it!
"Ivy, we can stop if you need…"
Vivian straightened up, almost surprised to hear Lawrence’s voice over her piercing screams of her thoughts, caged in her head.
"W-what?" she mumbled, as confused as if he had pulled her from a bad dream. "No, I’m fine, I…"
She took a short breath and gave him a smile which was intended to be reassuring.
"My head was just elsewhere," she rephrased. "Nothing to worry about."
Lawrence acknowledged, cracking a cocky smile as an answer. He came stride by stride with her to ask:
"And what’s on your mind?"
Vivian shrugged and readjusted her hat on her head; it was keeping her warm despite the fact that a bit of wind, heavy with the midday sun, was blowing on the grassland.
"I was thinking about the last time I was in Las Mudas," she hedged to make it simpler. "I… I was wondering what might have changed since…"
She lowered her head, ashamed to ruin Lawrence’s effort towards a lighter tone.
"Don’t worry," he told her, with a lenient smile. "If they’re in town, my cousins… they’ll welcome us good."
He bobbed his head before adding, on a playful tone:
"Better than the first time anyway!"
This time, Vivian’s smile was heartfelt.
"Oh," she let out, on the same tone. "You remember that?"
Lawrence nodded, lowering his head as if to hide his expression behind the brim of his hat.
"Yeah," he replied, drawling. "That and… the fact that I was wrong."
Vivian raised her eyebrows.
"What about?"
"I misjudged you. You ain’t too polite for a place like Pariah…"
Lawrence shoot her a knowing look; she received the compliment in silence, flushed. It was only the rumble of thunder that made her look up to the yet pale blue sky above them. That’s all they needed, to have a downpour right on their faces! But a shiver of worry shook her whole as the sound lasted, and grew… Her gaze and Lawrence’s met; he was already cocking the hammer of his revolver in his holster.
"Riders!" he shouted. "Off the road! Now!"
With a flick of his hand still holding the reins, he steered his horse to the bushy side of the flat road, pointing to Vivian the round, reddish shape of a rise in the terrain. She followed Hank and Rafe there, heart pounding and a hand on the grip of her weapon.
Quite frankly, she was hoping she wouldn’t have to use it again… Not ever.
A cloud of yellow dust was rising from the road behind the meanderings of the grassland, signaling the arrival of a group of riders, maybe a bigger one than theirs. Without releasing her reins, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. When she lowered her hand, it was only to see a fully tacked horse rushing on the road without rider; it cut the road to Lawrence and Josela, neck low and scarlet nostrils flaring…
No-one tried to stop its frantic race, and panicked screams preceded the riders. Lawrence and Josela didn’t even have the time to join with Rafe, Ike, Vivian and Hank in their piss-poor hiding spot that the group was already emerging from the dust; there seemed to be only four horses and yet, those riders were making the racket of an entire army!
When the one in front noticed Lawrence and Josela, he let out such a frightened shriek that Vivian jumped in her saddle, her clammy palm on the handle of her revolver. She guessed that they was a guest — and when they got closer, she even identified her as a woman with short hair, in an outfit pretty similar to her own. She pulled on her reins so hard that her horse protested in a painful snort, skidding on the hard dirt road, and made the hammer of her already empty gun clack in every direction. All the others — three men, including one sitting behind another on a single horse — were catching up with just as much terrified screams.
Without thinking any longer, Vivian had already launched her horse across the path, pushing it with a single spur of her voice and her heels, shacking in fear, to get between them, Lawrence and Josela.
"Stop!" she yelled, the weapon in her hand raised on an open palm as a sign of peace.
One of the men yelped something and it seemed to her that Lawrence and Josela did too but in all that panic, she wasn’t getting anything anymore.
"It’s alright!" she insisted. "We’re friendly!"
The woman screeched something as she shook the barrel of her empty revolver in her direction but Vivian only felt indifference at the idea of catching a bullet, from her or one of the others in the back.
"… or human?!" the woman hollered as vehemently as if she was repeating a question Vivian had obviously not heard.
"I said chill out!" she then barked.
Her shout imposed some kind of confused silence during which Hank, Rafe and Ike joined them on the road. A silence which didn’t last as the only one who was still donning a hat among them cried out, shaking:
"Beasts! Furious bests that… that jumped on us!"
Lawrence moved his horse next to Vivian’s and she felt grateful for it; his proximity was a more than welcome support. Especially when the woman added, on the verge of tears:
"They were guys! Guys in costumes with masks! Growling like bears and they came out of nowhere, I don’t know how we managed to lose them, and… and…"
And then, their testimony became a confused cacophony as they all started to talk at the same time; they had been chased by a bunch of stark naked hosts and other raving lunatics on horses who had emptied their guns on them, killing two of them — "how was that possible?!" — and repeated several times they had barely gotten away by the skin of their teeth, and shooting all their bullets in doing so!
"The… the biggest of those with masks, he… he flung a axe in Greg’s horse!" the woman cried, like a sudden realization. "And… and Greg, he… he couldn’t fight, he… oh my God!"
She gasped for air, having a panic attack, and the man with the hat continued for her, in a frightened quaver:
"They butchered him!"
"He w-was…" the woman stuttered. "The screams! He was screaming an-and then…"
This time, she burst into tears and the one carrying a wounded one behind him on his horse moved forward to reach and squeeze her shoulder.
"We… we have to call someone," the rider with the hat mumbled. "That’s not supposed to happen, that’s…"
With a glance, Vivian quickly estimated the state the riders; they were four on three horses, all exhausted and more or less injured. She suspected that the passenger would need treatment…
"Looks like we’re about to meet your Wyatt’s men, Lawrence, Josela snarked with a impressive cool.
"Don’t be so excited about it, Josie please," Vivian muttered.
"No," Lawrence was already replying, looking even more serious. "We gotta leave, let’s go!"
He beckoned Ike to take the lead on the road before adding for the guests:
"You can come with us. You’ll be safe in Las Mudas…"
He didn’t wait for their answer and made his horse turn around. After a brief surge of compassion for their state and their confusion, Vivian turned around to follow Lawrence’s gallop.
Tag list: @hathorik , @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor , @the-blind-assassin-12 …
Chapter wordcount: 2.2k
Rating: Mature
Warning: SPECIAL POV of a character we all hate, so expect some form of trolling and nasty comments from him. Also, swearing, of course.
Author’s notes: Be ready for more POV switches after this one. And I'm really excited for the next to come!!! But this one is the first of them. And it's one from This Fuckin Guy POV...
Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!
— Chapter 33
His horse would hold on, William was sure. At least long enough for what use he would have of it. No need to trade it for another. Not yet. Its wounds would bleed for as long as they wouldn’t be closed but it wouldn’t loose as much blood as a human host. Maybe hairs were holding scabs together better than skin…
For now, his valiant nag had eaten the crappy hay it had been given, absorbed a full bucket of water and would get some well-deserved rest, neck and ears lows. Now or later, William didn’t really want his mount to collapse under his ass. So, it might as well get its belly full as long as it could then sleep on it!
He didn’t really feel like lowering his guard himself, like he had done the previous night. It had been a mistake! But after more than three days without a real night of sleep, finally fed and sheltered, he hadn’t even felt himself dozing off.
A mistake, really…
And since it was a mistake he didn’t want to repeat until reaching his final objective, he was keeping himself busy. He had first groomed his horse, and that had taken him quite a while, then he had found himself something to eat, had taken a few minutes to breathe and relax his still painful shoulder, and he would now have to change the bandage on his leg and his arm, and wash the cut on his cheek. No way he’d let a flesh wound slow him down so close to his goal.
And for that, he looked for Lawrence, wherever he could be at the moment. William suspected that he’d find him with that little Behavior bitch. He shuddered as he thought back to that… that scene she had made in the farm.
Who the fuck did she think she was?!
Despite the anger and fear she had caused him — he hated to admit it — William found himself cracking a broad smile. He stifled a mocking burst of laugher as he kept going through the alleys formed by the block of buildings behind the awning.
The houses were on that side; William didn’t really know where they were going to be cooped up for the night but if it was with the locals, it’d be on that side. And that would also probably be where he would find Lawrence, showing that girl around…
Honestly, William would see no issue in leaving with other hosts to go finish the bucket list of his last tailored story. The issue — because there was one — was that after what Ford had done to their code before leaving in grand style, all the hosts seemed to be glitching.
Not all in the same way, but 'glitching' all the same…
And leaving with a crew of broken, absolutely untrustworthy hosts was an issue to William. Lawrence, on the other hand, looked like he still had his feet in his stirrups… even after the sort of episode his revelations had triggered.
It was bothering him to think that he might owe it to that code this girl had crammed in his head. But, no matter her pathetic reasons to do that, it was still working for William… If he had to leave with someone to hunt for Dolores, he’d put his money on Lawrence.
What was also nagging at him a little, were questions such as why Ford would let this girl pull this off, given what he was planning to do himself on the night of the gala and what did that old nutcase know of the code? Because he had to know — there was no doubt about it. What he doubted however, was that this girl could have anything to do with it. But what the hell was she doing in the park when the rules flipped? was another question adding itself to the pile, even if he had a few theories about that one.
Ultimately, William didn’t care too much about it remaining a mystery. At this point, he’d had his share of mysteries… But since Ford had made of Wyatt and Dolores one and the same character for this narrative fitting his hopes and expectations, then he’d know how to play this game. He had been waiting for this for thirty years!
Now, he’d catch up with Dolores, and would be done once and for all with this place. And everything it cost him. No matter the outcome… Death, ruin, victory — no fuck given.
An old woman sitting on a chair was shelling already empty pea pods in an already full plate, and William simply walked past her with a curious glance. He had never understood why some of the hosts were reacting a certain way to the errors in their code, and others in a different way… Like what had happened with Dolores, and that, still not so long ago. The thought made him grit his teeth and his fingers on his right shoulder, barely back into place. He’d been lucky she didn’t break his collarbone in their little Danse Macabre, the other day.
And his luck didn’t seem to have ran out yet as he heard a voice he easily recognized in the courtyard in front of him, behind the white sheets hanging from the strings tied to the houses’ roofs. It was Lawrence’s voice. And what puzzled William, making him slow down, was that he didn’t seem to be talking to his tech. Or if he was, she didn’t seem to have anything pertinent to say…
"Please…" William heard Lawrence beg. "Say something else!"
Behind the sheets flapping slowly on their ropes, he heard vague syllables in a woman’s voice… He moved so as to see without being seen from behind the sheets. Lawrence was talking to that host he’d been stuck with as a wife when they changed his narrative; she had a tense smile, and put her hands on his arms, saying something so low that William barely heard any of it.
"No!" Lawrence evaded her touch to hold her wrists, then her hands without forcing her. "I… I don’t wanna sit down, or drink somethin’! Why do you keep sayin’ that each time I…"
He stopped with a slow sigh. In fact, he wasn’t only nervous, William even found that he sounded flat-out frustrated.
Come on, he wasn’t going to laugh at him! He could get behind that; he too had the feeling of talking to a recording with some people at the office.
"I know you can’t remember, and that I have to be indulgent but… it ain’t so hard a question!"
In front of him, his "wife" looked like she was listening anyway, despite her still confused and tensed face.
"I’m askin’ you again. What do you want?"
She bobbed her head, negative, a muttered a sound or two. When the wind made the sheets flap higher, she seemed to spot William and turned her head to him, almost like she was begging for his help. He could’ve almost laughed! Lawrence turned too and let go of his wife’s hands when William walked up to them.
"The fuck do you want?" he spat at him.
"You’re repeating yourself, Lawrence."
Then, he reworded, a hand drawing closer to the colt at his belt :
"What are you doin’ here?"
The woman clung on Lawrence’s arm when William answered:
"I was looking for the place they they prepared us for the night."
"On the other side."
Lawrence didn’t give him any more direction other than a wave of his chin towards the next backstreet. Then, he told his wife go inside the house with a simple word; she stroke his arm and disappeared behind the door.
"Experiencing some family drama, Lawrence?" he then dead-panned.
And against all odds, William received no sarcasm, no snark… In fact, it even disappointed him a little. Lawrence furrowed his brows and mumbled an answer:
"I… I try talkin’ to her but… she… she doesn’t understand."
"Mmh," William muttered. "And what is it she doesn’t understand?"
He didn’t really give a shit… he was only curious.
"I tried explainin’ her why I won’t stay but, it’s like she ain’t hearin’ me…"
The opportunity to add to that all while getting his way was too good to miss.
"You’re planning to leave your shelter, then? To abandon wife and child…"
Lawrence glared at him, almost disgusted.
"You know very well what they really are."
"What you all are," William corrected.
Faced with his glower, he insisted:
"And where d’you think you’d go? Why leaving Pariah to come all the way here… and not stay?"
Lawrence clenched his jaw. But William could guess without issue that his little tech and him had daydreamed about eloping from the park.
"Also, you won’t be able to go anywhere as long as what’s happening out there isn’t over," he then added, as Lawrence wasn’t saying anything. "That’s why I need your help."
There was no real link between the two — stopping Dolores would still not allow him to get out of here. William was just trying to mess with his head to coax him into accepting.
"I need you to come with me stop Dolores! She’s the one leading Wyatt’s crew and she’s gonna come back here to finish off all the newcomers still in the park…"
Or at least, that’s what he had understood, that this was the task Ford had coded her, according to what he had seen… and what Angela had preached to Teddy. William groaned, frustrated not to remember her exact words.
He believed in Ford’s skill for premeditation, and that he had sowed a whole bunch of clues since the beginning of this new Wyatt narrative. Why else would he have come to face him in Rattlecreek, the other night?
"And can you imagine what she’ll do to your girlfriend, someone who’s working here?"
It was almost funny to see Lawrence shiver, and clutch his hand on the leather of his gunbelt. Then, William laid it on thick:
"You came across their victims on your way here, I’m sure. I saw the trap you escaped when I found you."
Lawrence held his gaze, still without a word.
"This is finally the game I’ve been hoping for all those years," William then went on, emboldened by his silence — he knew how Lawrence worked, and he knew that it meant he was taking what he had just said into account. "Each decision, each action matters now…"
"If this is a game for you, it ain’t for me," Lawrence then retorted, angered.
"Of course it is!"
At those words, Lawrence furrowed his brows, and William continued:
"It’s never been anything but a game! And if you had the opportunity to get out of this park, you’d realize that, out there, it’s not that different… You’ll be trading one hellhole for another."
Lawrence remained silent. William knew that what he still had to say would finally make him react.
"But we’re in this one for now, and if whatever you're feeling for that girl is… is real, you know you’re gonna have to get rid of her somewhere safe, don’t you?"
A wince and a silent word, muttered, and William knew he had all his attention.
"I can’t figure why but… she likes you enough to endanger herself over you," he stated. "And she will die because of you."
Lawrence winced but didn’t answer.
"Because that’s what it does to people to love men like us…"
"Men like us?" Lawrence noted as he raised his eyes on him.
"You and I aren’t good with family and loved ones," William explained, darkly. "They end up dead…"
His words seemed to struck a chord in Lawrence who chew on a few words he didn’t voice.
"The simpler would be to leave her here, tomorrow morning. She knows the town’s accesses, and response teams will certainly come sooner than later to recover the others guests who got lost here. She’ll be safe in the Mesa, with her own kind…"
Since Lawrence was still not saying anything and William was starting to get bored with this little mindgame, he provoked him:
"Apparently, you can finally make your own choices, Lawrence! Real ones, meaningful ones… Don’t you want to save her?"
Still no words.
"The girl will probably hate your guts!" William then laughed. "But at least, she’ll be alive to hold that against you…"
He didn’t even try to contain his large smile. For now, he wouldn’t add anything else; he would let that seep through his thick skull. At first, he had come to claim some plasters and bandages and, unless he’d attempt a visit to the healer later on, he would still need them. If not now, at least for future injuries.
Tag list: @hathorik , @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor , @the-blind-assassin-12 ...
