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Bloodgarden; An endless dedication... (CONTENT WARNING)
Topic Started: Dec 24 2010, 06:47 PM (12,055 Views)
MK Kilmarnock
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((Liam "Brook" Brooks, continued from It's Everything's Nature to Fall))

This place was perfect.

Just for you… I’ll make this place entirely for you, Tiffany, and nobody else. Until the day I die, it’s all about us. And once I do, we’ll be together again…

On the outside, the spot was just a simple clearing, a spot that managed to be free of trees or heavy undergrowth. It wasn’t large, sure, but it was nice and enclosed, sheltered by the trees that grew all around. The canopy was nice and full, yet it let in more than enough light to allow plants to grow. So, in Brook’s eyes, it was perfect. There was no spot more deserving for her grace.

Tiffany was, fitting to Brook’s vision, the centerpiece of this area, which he would dedicate to her existence. He had finished positioning her on the ground, crossing her hands to cover the unsightly hole in her chest, the only thing on her form that could be considered a flaw. Not that it was a flaw anymore, not to Brook. He peered down to her, smiling as she graced his presence. Her body had grown cold, and the blood… the filthy blood of hers was nearly drying. Yet, if there was any blood in this world that could cease to be disgusting, it was hers.

He hesitantly dipped his hand down until his fingertip lightly brushed some of the caked blood sitting below her breast. He cringed at the touch alone, pulling his hand back to see if any of the substance had clung to his fingertips. It did, of course, and Brook had to fight the revulsion. This was Tiffany… just a part of her, and a part of her that would help to compliment the beauty of her monument, her immortalization. He stuck out his tongue, shaking with trepidation, and touched the red humor to his taste buds.

Something fought against the gag welling up in his throat; perhaps it was the perverted desire to have his blood join with Tiffany’s, an idea which twisted the reality of something so innocent and meaningful to a delusion of grandeur. This wasn’t about him, not yet, no matter how equal and salty his own blood should be.

“Yes, Tiffany… just for you… even the worst parts of all of us can be used to return to the planet!” He grinned, motioning to the small scattered groups of wildflowers that grew around the clearing, which he intended to transplant tomorrow. It needed more, however. It would not just be Tiffany’s blood seeping into the ground and supplying life from senseless death. No, others would join her. Still, they better not make the mistake… this was all about her. This garden of blood, this Bloodgarden, would render all other things meaningless.
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It's going to be so very long, Brook... so very long before you go home, but it'll all be worth it in the end, once they see what you've done...

It was all the assurance he gave himself that kept himself going. He had worked on transplanting some of the wild flowers around the grove towards Tiffany's body, but it was a slow, boring process without the right tools. The dirt got up underneath his fingernails after some digging. While this certainly wasn't anything new to him, he'd need those precious hands later to get more decorations for the momnument. Yes... he couldn't do Tiffany justice without a more lavish affair. One body in this happy little place simply would not do.

So, using a bit if ingenuity, he had managed to find a flat, roughly spade-shaped rock, which he then fastened to a stick using some vines from a particularly tangled tree strangler. The fact that this hellish island they were stuck on was in a temperate climate zone certainly had its perks, in that he was quite familiar with the flora that grew on it. The makeshift trowel was, frustratingly, not half as effective as the real thing and often threatned to come apart at the lashings, but it was faster than what he was doing. Daylight had run out a while ago, but Brook was hardly tired. No... he had yet to be stopped by something as trivial as the night, so he continued uprooting a few violets for the sleeping girl in the center of the grove. Anything to satiate her blood.

That's when the telltale rustlings began. Somebody was clearly approaching the clearing in a manner that the wind simply couldn't reproduce. So this was finally happening... a guest to his garden! He simply couldn't wait. He listened, heard more rustling, then... silence. Brook crept beyond the edge of the clearing, staring down at the ground. It had been dark for a while, but the moon was out, so at least he could get a bearing on where the leaves were. Agility was simply never his thing, so he wanted to avoid the patches of sticks and leaves and what else. Whoever his guest was, he didn't want them to hear him until he was ready.

Then again, by the sounds of things, they weren't in the right position to hear him. He heard the characteristic wibbling of a female voice... and licked his lips at the prospect. He'd take anybody for his beautiful garden, but the girls at Bayview had so much more to offer. Each example of feminine grace, inferior to Tiffany's own, would serve to highlight her perfect. It was all the same anyhow; their blood was foul, and it needed to be spilled all over the ground just for her. Just... just for...

Just...

As Brook managed to scoot around a bush, he finally got a good, direct look at his quarry. Some of the clarity came back to his tortured mind as he saw just who it was... of all the bitches with blood festering in their veins just waiting to be sprayed all over the ground, who should wander into his humble demonstration but Leila... Leila Langford, so innocent, so defenseless and in need of a band of knights to protect her... yes, Brook would protect her... he'd protect her from this terrible experience by removing it.

Oh, yes, he wasn't crazy, not right now... and when was he ever? He was fine... fine. But any of the lucidity that had managed to pierce his soul was immediately filled with untempered rage. Leila was going to make a lovely addition to the garden.

Oh, so she wants to cry... heh... heh, fine! Let sweet little Leila have her nice, girly cry... I'll take away those tears, Leila! Come here!

Brook stepped up to the girl, grinning. The whites of his teeth would, thanks to the glint of the camera, be the most prominent feature of his to her. "Leeeilaaaa! Oh, man, am I glad to see your face again! You borrowed something of mine... remember?"

Oh, he hoped she'd remember. That'd be the only way this would ever be any fun.
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Well, this certainly was delicious! Brook could pratically taste the fear, the anguish, hell... he could even soak up all that anxiety and desperateness right through Leila's skin if he had a straw to jab in her. Then again, with all of those wonderful things, he'd drink up all the deceit, the lies, the whorishness that defined the girl struggling against his grasp.

Yes... this was the same girl who had decided to make a fool of him. She had turned him into a snivelling wreck for all of his friends to see, and he let her! So weak... he was so weak, allowing the viridian insides to overcome him. No more... he'd pull of that vile shit out of Leila and fucking kill her with it for what she had done to him. His face twisting into a scowl, Brook took a nice, seething breath before letting his company know exactly what was up.

"Bitch! You dirty, slutty bitch! You think I wouldn't hold it against you!? When you smeared your fucking... your DISGUSTING blood all over my face?" Brook screamed, the muscles of his face twitching at the cutaneous memory of being covered in Leila's blood. As he paused to take another shaking breath to try and hold it all in, he jerked his arm over Leila's gun arm, reaching to trap the offending limb under his armpit. Oh no, the bitch wasn't getting a shot off on him... not today, not tomorrow, not ever, because she was dying here. However, Leila had not jumped on the opportunity to answer his question, and so Brook screamed the reprisal.

"Well, Leila!? What was that about!?"

She couldn't answer him. Of course she couldn't answer him! There was no possible explanation for the atrocities she had commited, and for what? So she could just off Hilary? Whatever Brook's reaction was the first time he heard the announcement, he could hardly care to remember it now. Now, it just seemed like a poor trade. All that effort to remove somebody from this world, when Leila herself would return to it as a lovely offering for Tiffany. Feeling just so merry at the thought, Brook obviously had no chioce but to tighten the vice on her gun arm, keeping the elbow nice and locked.

"Woah, shit, I- AH! Brook, stop it, you're hurting me!"


Music to his ears, really. Ah, yes, of course her arm would be in a decent amount of pain the way he was wrenching on it, not to mention how his other arm practically buried her shoulder into the bark of the tree behind her.

Eastern White pine, pinus strobus. Terribly common in temperate climate zones, noted for its burnability and ring-based branch growth.

His face lifted in an air of appreciative delight to match Leila's strife. Each instinctual movement to free herself, the denial of her fate even likely to the very end, god damn it... this was GREAT! He brought his eyes out of the clouds to look at Leila. Well, he aimed a little low at first, catching a nice glimpse of her chest which, as luck would have it, became quite animated amidst her heavy breathing and wriggling. His eyes came back up to find hers, soon enough. "Awwww... I'm sorry, Leila! Hee hee... I guess I'm just playing a little rough!"

To make things a little fairer, he decided to instill truth in his statement. He said he was being rough, but his arm didn't really feel like it was being all that rough. To compensate, he wrenched even harder, and the pain that shot through the girl nearly made Brook want to pull all the blood out of her right then and there. But no... he had to keep a grip on himself. This was Leila. Leila fucking Langford, and she had done terrible, terrible and naughty things. As far as Brook was concerned, naughty girls got punished. He locked Leila into the stare once more. He needed to see this... to be there, in her head, when he played with her.

"Hee hee... got your aaaaaaaaaaaaarm..."

There was no mistaking it. That rush he felt running through his body, making him feel alive for the first time in four days. That was the gift granted to him directly from Leila's soul, offering to him the terror that she had so graciously given to him beforehand. "Wh-what, Brook, please, just stop-"

More force.

"Ahahaha! Stop! AHH! Let go of me!"
Just a bit more.... yes, she was nearly ready!!

"You little fucker, let GO!"

Now! Now she was going to pay for all of it! Tiffany was watching... she had to be, granting all of her hope and love to Brook, just like she would have if she were awake! Brook laughed out in manic joy, then took his hand off of Leila's shoulder. He swept it down, around, and then drove it up for her elbow as hard as he could. "WHOOPSIE-DAISY!" he screeched, listening for the result.

A gardener couldn't possibly be more pleased with the sound of cracking bone.
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Yes... yes, yes, YES! Everything lined up so perfectly! It was just... lying right there in front of Brook, ready to be shattered into tiny little bits, much like the broken mess that was once Leila's elbow. Shit... he didn't realize that enough force would make it pop like that, sending something so off-kilter that it would poke through the bone and send blood spraying. Oh well... Leila always was the gross sort to just spray and smear her blood all over everything. She had already showed him that in the past.

Seeing her just writhe in his grip send wave after wave of everlasting pleasure running through every part of Brook's body. He expected her to be screaming and expressing her agony immediately but, as luck would have it, watching that invisible thermometer of pain rising to its boiling point was just that more satisfying. If only this moment could last forever, then all would be right with the world. Sadly, no... there was more fun to be had!

"Gaaahahahahaaa!!! I broooooke yoooou!" Brook jeered, releasing the ruined arm and giving Leila a nice and firm push on her shoulders. The useless girl fell backward, stumbling over the daypack that rested next to her feet. She continued to lay there, looking up at him with a look that seemed better fit for one of those animal shelter commercials. She just seemed so bewildered, so confused... oh yeah, and in pain.

Good! Wallow in it, you little whore! You should look like this more often!

Taking a couple steps back to admire his handiwork, a glint shining from the moonlight caught his eyes. Leila clearly wasn't going anywhere at the moment, so Brook leisurely looked down to his feet and found just what the object was. Of course... it was the weapon she oh-so brazenly pointed at him with her silly and worthless thoughts, right before he had his way with that arm! His old friend, the junky FP-45 Liberator that he woke up with in that clear-cut area. Probably wasn't the best weapon on the island, but it would do the job that was asked of it for now. It'd make a far better present than the whimpering girl at his feet, anyway.

"Weeeell, toys really aren't all that much fun once you've broken them..." Brook said, casually stepping and bending down to retrieve the weapon. He idly played with it, working it around in his fingers to get the feel of the thing. It was a little dirtier than he had known it to be beforehand, but that was because Leila, the thief that she was, saw it fit to take it for herself. "Anything you wanna say, Leila?" Brook softly asked, not taking his eyes off the gun as he did so.

It would seem that she didn't have anything to say, at least for the moment. Brook sighed at that, clicking his tongue against his teeth once, twice, three times. The poor girl... he offered her a chance to at least make her existence mildly interesting before he used it for his own goals, maybe let her have a few flavorful last words, but if she really wanted to squander them, then that was her own damn fault. He rose and stepped around Leila, carefully observing his quarry as she returned his gaze with her own. It held a sort of primal fear, just like a treed animal that knew it was about to die.

"See..." Brook started, licking some of the dryness out of his lips. He stooped down, randomly pointing at her and motioning with the pistol in his hands. "I'd play with you and torture you some more, maybe make an appointment or two, but I'm getting bored really fast." Of course he was... he didn't have all the time in the world to waste on this slut! "Plus, I gotta watch over Tiffany, so this is just an arrangement we're gonna have to hold off on. Or, you know, not happen, because I'm going to kill you!"

He let out another shrill cackle, straightening back up and practically dancing on the spot with joy.

"Oooh, you should see your face right now! You're so big and bad on the ground like that, Leila! You like being on your back!?" His mouth spread into a grin, the gun poised. Soon, in just one pull of a trigger, Leila would be out of his life, generously leaving a body just for Tiffany. Leila, on the other hand, seemed like she did have something to say. Before Brook could pull the trigger, Leila coughed, cleared her throat, and...

"You looked better... with my blood on."

The smile completely disintegrated. The memory of... of that dirty trick she played on him came back and ran through his mind over and over. He scowled down at her, training the pistol directly on her forehead. He was going to enjoy every. Single. FUCKING. SECOND of this.

"Yeah... I'm sure it'll look good on you too."
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In just a moment, Leila would be dead.

Yes, here it was! Goddamn, if he savored this moment any longer, he'd probably just get down on his knees and continue pulverizing Leila's face with his fist, or his elbow, or the butt of that goddamn junky gun. As incredibly fun as all of that would be, he had to be quick. Efficiency was key, here; just one shattering through her skull, spreading her brains all over the innocent rock behind her, then he'd drag her off for Tiffany.

His finger rested on the trigger.

"Bye, Le- WHO THE FUCK!?"

Somebody had approached from his left, just barely in his field of vision. No, they didn't just approach... they mother-fuckin' APPEARED out of thin air. Brook's head shot up and to the side, looking to the girl who had happened upon them with wide and probably twitching eyes. In return, she was staring right back at him as though she was walking in on something she shouldn't have been seeing. Which she was. His bloody destiny was about to unfold, and somebody wanted to ruin it!? Fine. All the more for Tiffany.

This didn't stop Brook from being completely incensed at the intrusion, however. Ooooh no, Ms... eh... whatever the fuck her name was would pay dearly for what she just did! He turned the gun to her, stepping forward. One, two strides, and he was already in her face before she could react. He didn't even thing about what she was doing before she wrapped a hand around the back of Raine's head, wrenching to the right as though to throw her.

As luck would have it (though 'luck' in this sense was quite the relative term), Raine didn't have to go very far before her face was forced up against the trunk of the very same tree Leila was up against a few moments ago. Ah, the white pine, known for its very rough bark... okay, it wasn't known for that as much as it was for its tendency to drop pitch and sap on new cars, but Brook knew as well as anybody could that the bark was quite rough, and thus unserviceable for one's face.

His hand shoved and pulled, frantically trying to scrape Raine's face across the trunk of the tree, doing the best to resist her own flails and struggles. "DO. NOT. GET. IN. MY. WAY!" Brook screamed in time with the grinding.

Does this hurt, bitch? Well, don't come crying to me! You brought this upon yourself!!
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((Sorry Stefan, I'm going to pull a quick post before you to keep things moving, but it won't mess with you.))

Brook turned and saw the voice directed towards him. So commanding, so rude! Then again, befitting of somebody who also had the gall to interrupt him when he was punishing somebody. Brook yanked Raine away from the tree, grabbign her shoulder and turning her away from him. Once he had his arm nice and locked around her throat, he jabbed the Liberator up against her back... probably where her kidney was, maybe the liver. Some place where lots and LOTS of blood was sure to leak out of if he shot her.

"Ooooh, scary scary!" He giggled, staring at Ridley. "What... you wanna have her, kill her for yourself? Well, that's too damn bad! She's mine, I found her first! Whatcha say about putting down that gun, eh?"

Brook had a delightful idea. Maybe, if this person was willing to take an etiquette lesson or two (or five), he'd get polite enough to play with his prey alongside him. Yes, wouldn't that be fun... then, once they were done killing her, Brook would do him the favor of ending his run in the game, then drag them both to Tiffany!

See? Everybody wins.

"Yeah... yeah, just put the gun down, and we'll play with her for a little bit! Sounds fun, doesn't it? If you don't, I'm just gunna fuckin' kill her right now!!"
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All was... uh, how did that saying go? All was going to according to plan? It just didn't seem to fit, though. There was no plan stringing all of these events together. Brook was simply acting on his whims, doing whatever he thought he could get away with, and right now he had three people at his mercy! Sure, there was a rough patch when everybody showed up armed, but who was armed now?

The answer was, of course, Brook. The snivelling wreck in his clutches right now, she didn't really come with anything of use, which made her the perfect candidate for kissing the tree in that lovely makeout session. This other annoying fuck (his prey kept screaming 'Ridley', so let's go with that...), he came with a gun, but Brook had forced him to disarm himself! He couldn't make any sense out of the logic of doing so, dropping your weapon just because somebody as worthless as ol' bloody-face here was about to die, but he wasn't about to complain just because things worked out for him. Then, of course, there was Leila, who Brook had made sure to disarm more... intimately.

He shifted some from his stance behind the girl, knowing that some of the blood on her face was liable to drip onto his arm any moment. Stupid, stupid dirty girl! He didn't want any of that nasty stuff on him, and he'd prefer if she kept as much of it inside of her as possible until she got to where she needed to be. So much of it, the blood, so much of it about to be spilt. Brook really wasn't sure whether to be happy or to be repulsed. Maybe it was both, since his own blood was heated and coursing through him with one message: 'Do this, Liam. This is what is expected of you'.

He really hated it when his blood called him Liam.

And now more annoyance came! He had already pretty much one, but Ridley was still spouting off on something... like how if he hurt her, he was gonna pay, blah blah blah I'mma hit you, blah blah blah, you're gonna pay... Hee hee... oh, GIVE ME A BREAK!

Then... something struck Brook's mind. All of this business was diverting him from something. Let's see... there was Ms. Blood Paegant... Sir Ridley Motherfucker, and... who else?

Beat. Leila had been awfully quiet.

OH FOR THE LOVE OF- Brook turned his head, and sure enough, there she wasn't. "No.... No..." he turned back to Ridley, glaring. This was HIS fault. Him and Blood Bitch, this was THEIR FAULT! He wanted Leila, needed her corpse to show to Tiffany! She was more important than they and now it was all ruined! "NO... NO! NO NO NO NO NO! I hate... hate... HATE... HATE... HATE... HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE!"

There was a very loud noise, and a jarring motion in his hand. Then... something warm against him, and it was coming from the girl. He had hardly recognized that he just fired his weapon right into the girl, no doubt dipping her precious thread of life into the fire where it would burn away with the tick-tocking of the clock. But who gave a fuck? He could pick up the body later. Right now, he had to get...

"LEEEEILA! WAIT, COME BAAAAAACK!!!" Brook pleaded through his screams, letting go of the wounded girl and darting through the thick trees. Leila couldn't have gone far, right? Then why wasn't she right here!? Cursing under his breath, Brook laid his back against a tree, listening to everything around him. Leila had gotten away, and he couldn't chase her... he couldn't go too far away from Tiffany, who was just a few tens of yards away in that clearing... and there were some noises over by the couple, also separated by just a few innocent little trees.

His job wasn't done.
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For fuck's sake, she isn't dead yet!?

Brook glared out at nothing in particular as he eavesdropped onto the scene from behind a particularly thick red pine. While the thrill of the fact that the uniquely-barked tree even grew in such a remote place sort of made his day, the annoyance of Raine's tenacity just went and muddled that right up. He wouldn't have even known her name if Ridley hadn't shouted it like a hearthrobbing fanboy with a teen crush, and he still didn't particularly care, but at least he knew which name to mention when he gave her to Tiffany.

Yeah yeah, more crying... augh, hurry up and DIE already!!

There wasn't enough time to play things out the way he would have liked. Ridley was supposed to run away immediately, abandoning all hope of saving the girl since there obviously wasn't any way of doing so. Nobody could be saved on this island, so why bother? The notion of even such a hope was laughable. Howver, Ridley remained all the same, and Brook was more than willing to settle for two bodies to bring back to his garden to make up for the one he had lost. It was really their own fault for getting in the way, so Raine and Ridley had nobody to cry to in hell for their deaths except themselves.

As Brook slipped from tree to tree to work himself behind the kneeling boy, he though he saw something. Maybe it was the darkened sky, poor lighting and thick trees, but Ridley and Raine had, for a moment, begun to look like somebody else. He shook the thoughts away, dismissing it as sleep deprivation. Yeah... what was the last time he had really had a good night's sleep? What was the next time he would sleep when he had such wonderful deeds to perform? There was no time for sleeping right now... there'd be plenty of time for that when he was dead.

Speaking of dying...
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Ridley had finally found the eggs to call him out? The hilarity of the situation was so strong that, were he not trying to remain hidden behind a tree, he would have just laughed in Ridley's face. He would have laughed at his stupid, forlorn and overly teary his face, and pathetic connection to a girl that obviously wasn't worth it.

Ah, to hell with it... he was going to laugh anyway.

The ballsy gardener did just that as he stepped out from around the tree, pointing the liberator at Ridley. "It's funny ya should say that, bud!" Brook finally managed to say through bursts of laughter. "Ya know, when you're the one crying your eyes out... does it hurt? They way she bleeds like that, never to talk to you again? Never gonna kiss you again? I assume you guys kissed, right? Or did she never put out... I'm not sure!" He roared with laughter at his own words as though they were the funniest jokes on the planet, his gun waving back and forth with the motions. No matter the bobbing, though, it remained pointed at Ridley, more or less.

"But... it's okay. I know just how bad the blood drips..." Brook whispered to Ridley. There were certain things he felt the boy was entitled to know before he killed him. "The sight is... excruciating, isn't it? Disgusting to see it tarnish her so? I know, Ridley... I know. I'm sorry." Brook sniffed a little, forcing a sad giggle. "That's why I'm gonna turn both you and her into something beautiful! It'll all be okay then, don't you worry one little bit!"

Yup, and that's how it's going to be! That silly guy shouldn't worry at all... after all, in the end, they're gonna be luckier than anybody else who died on the island. They'll be complementing Tiffany, and that's wonderful! I feel almost jealous...

"So whaddaya say, Riddy boy? Can you be good for once and fucking DIE for me!?"
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"Awwwww hell! You know, you're just ruining EVERYTHING today!" Brook scowled, forced to retreat fully behind the safety of the tree he was using for covor. "I mean, what did this tree ever do to you? Luckily, given such a low-caliber weapon, those bullets probably aren't going all the way through, but they are striking the tree! Surely you know how important these things are to keeping us all alive!"

Only half of it was taunting aimed to pissing off Ridley and making his act sloppy. Brook did feel a fair bit of genuine concern over the tree, never one to intentionally maim a plant unless it was necessary, such as clearing the land or collecting firewood. Using the tree as cover was a necessary action to protect himself, and Ridley was being the depraved one by shooting it! But hey... he wanted to waste his bullets, that was up to him. His corpse would just roast all the hotter when he was sent down to hell.

"Come on... we're gonna play this game? Round and round the temperate pine, the loser chased the gaaaaaaardener..." Brook giggled, working around the tree to try and stay on the opposite side of where Ridley was standing. His body was shaking all over... was it excitement? Physical troubles? Dare he say... fear? It was made more than just a little clear that if he fucked up his movement at all, or stumbled over a root or something completely asinine, he would be left out in the open for the stupid boy to shoot. No... that wouldn't do at all. Yet, if he kept hiding like this...

Ridley was getting closer and closer, wanting to do one of those cliche 'hero' deals... beat on Brook, make him feel sorry or some shit like that and kill him. Yeah, because that was totally how it worked. No, now Ridley was just wasting his damn time! Brook scowled at the realization, just wanting to get back to the girl laying in the clearing a short distance away with his victim (though the way Ridley was persisting, he was fine with making that word plural) in tow.

"Come on... stop pussy footing, damn it! What do you wanna do, Ridley!? What's it gonna be?"
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Brook winced as the chunky sounds of bullets slamming into splintering wood sounded. It sounded over and over again, like a storm, like a system of hail crashing down onto his head. Somewhere in the haze, he lost his grasp on just how many bullets may have been fired. Maybe it was as few as two, maybe it was more, but he couldn't tell which noises were legitimate and which ones were echoes, half-dead memories his brain kept replaying over and over again. As he pressed his back up against the tree and flattening himself out against it, it occurred to him that perhaps Ridley was fucking with him.

Well, wasn't that something? Short-stack was playing mind games with him! Little ol' Brook, all level-headed and such! The flower boy of Bayview... the insult of this notion ran pretty deep. As deep as it ran, however, that was not the worst part of the debacle Brook found himself to be in. The worst part of all of this was that Ridley's placement of bullets, the shots echoing all around, approaching Brook to close the distance as though he had control over the situation? All of these games were working.

He was absolutely terrified.

There was no doubt about this fear. He felt the same terror that might strike him if a gash had been opened in his chest! But something felt different. Whenever he saw or smelled blood before, he'd go weak and possibly even faint. Why was it that now, while the fear remained, it only made him feel so... alive? Raine had bled so much from where she had been shot; the sickly smell of copper, like dirty pennies, practically shoved itself up his nostrils. Maybe it was this tangible blood he had been smelling, or maybe he was smelling something with far more power behind it. There was blood between himself and Ridley, a desire... no, NO, a calling to kill him! To extract as much blood as he possibly could and feed it all to beauty!

You're coming closer... y-yes... no, stop! Stay away from me, Ridley, we play by my rules! Or come close... come look at me one more time! Yeah... yeah, come to me! You don't know it yet and neither do I, but this is the right way!

His chest heaved with weary laughter that was saturated in sweat and spit. The gun in his hand was at the ready, to do his bidding and to commit the deed. Just a few more steps on the other boy's behalf, and there would be nothing in Brook and Ridley's world except this one tree. The one tree, the two boys, and the two guns.

Come to me.
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Blood... so much blood...

His own, Leila's, Raine's, Ridley's, even some of Tiffanys, dried up in a crusted stain on his clothes. There was so much blood, and it was all over him. It wanted to drown him, pull him down into a sanguine pool and drag him the rest of the way to hell. Oh, so much of it, and why? When did he decide that he was going to bathe in all of it? When did his path become stained such a brutal shade of red?

Up close and personal, Ridley was so much shorter than Brook had ever anticipated. He had looked around the tree the wrong way in preparation to end the boy in one shot, and by the time he managed to turn the other way, he discovered the infuriated boy grasping the collar of his shirt with one hand. He never even got a chance to laugh before he discovered just what the other hand was about to do.

The structure of his nose giving away, the blood pouring out, it was nothing but alarming. All the brutality and the blood shed, the violence and the spilling of lives, all of it was finally coming back to fly in his face. It was his turn to bleed, and Ridley had made sure that it wouldn't just be a trickle. Brook underwent an assault led by the intent to open up a floodgate. And, for some reason, Brook was just standing there and taking it. Ridley had grabbed him, and he let him, but maybe that was just because of shock at being fooled so strongly. Now, maybe it was something else.

Brook lurched forward to obey the command of Ridley's tug. That 'crack' that sounded when their skulls collided made his ears ring, but he finally began to understand. Heat from each other's breath and blood flowed between the two faces, so very close. His eyelids drooped a little as his mind struggled to cope with the fact his face had been pushed into a bowl full of fear. More of the distasteful substance seeped between the two boys, and at one point, Brook could taste salt. His concentration remained untouched through it all, however, and he did as asked. Ridley's eyes were the only things he could could look at.

That's exactly the thing he understood, the reason he was standing there, each of his arms limp even as one of them held a deadly weapon. Ridley's righteous fury, the hatred he must be feeling right now, how it burned. Both of them had bathed in the blood of all of those around them, willingly or not. How this tiny loser... but he wasn't a loser, he was something else... how he had been affected by the death of that weak girl. So many lines to draw, and they were all stained in the same, deep, dark crimson hue.

"Do you have any GODLY idea who you're fucking with?"

There was some hesitation, weak and passive thought as Brook's gaze never left those eyes, of which his own were only an inch or two away. But he knew the answer to this question, and he spoke it just as quietly, albeit more peacefully than Ridley.

"I do now."

The barrel of the liberator nudged against Ridley's chest, and the trigger was pulled.

Then the blood came pouring down from the world, and Brook screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.
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Brook clawed at his own shirt, panting, dropping his gun to the ground for a second. Fuck the gun, he didn't need it right now. All of this had become too much. It was all so close, so very close, the blood and the gore and the viscera that covered his body. The cloth draped over his body was begging to be torn to shreds, but he had to wait.

Just a second longer.

His throat would scream itself hoarse for all the time it took for Ridley's body to finally collapse. Only when the corpse crumpled to the ground in a most unceremonious manner could Brook free himself from his soaked shirt. The shirt had been a part of his wardrobe for so long that he ordinarly wouldn't consider parting with it, were it not for the fact that the shirt were no longer his. No, he had lost so much ownership of that shirt, to where much of its mass now belonged to other people. For its treachery, Brook's fingers worked at the weakened fabric in the front of the shirt where his exploits through the woods had opened up a hole or two. With this weakness fully exposed, he ripped away at the shirt and pulled it away from him until a single shredded wad of cloth fell to the ground.

Panting in relief from the liberation of his body from the bloodstained article, Brook stared down to witness what he had just done. Two people dead... Raine and Ridley, in love to the end. He shouldn't be bothered by this... it wasn't like he was looking at THEM any more, just material components; they were nothing but husks, shells which only served as a part of what made somebody... well, somebody. That, and there was their blood. Much of that was pitifully wasted, spilled along the ground, but at least all of that wasn't on him. It wasn't like all the blood that had soaked into his shirt, even reaching his torso. He could wash it off later, there was bound to be a bit of water near the garden.

Brook pocketed the trashy-looking gun that had finally seen some use on his behalf, reaching to grab at Raine's arms. He would not give her the same grace as Tiffany by carrying her fully. He would not willingly bathe in her blood, he would not tolerate it. It wasn't much of a distance to drag the dead weight anyway, so not much time was lost. He had considered dragging Ridley first, but something inside him felt wrong just before he did so.

He was dreading the prospect of just touching him. The girl was just prey, a victim who had pushed Leila out of justice's way, and therefore took her place. Ridley was... something else. Something made him different from the others. When Brook looked into those eyes, he saw something. Even laying Raine on the ground, off to the side of Tiffany (leaving some planted flowers between the two... Tiffany was the centerpiece and focus of the garden, after all), he couldn't pinpoint just what it was he saw. Whatever it was, though, he didn't like it.

As he began to drag Ridley to the work of art next, Brook's subconcious had begun to dwell on where his thoughts would not dare, bloodstained as they may be. Perhaps what he saw in Ridley was a bit of himself... somebody who had lost everything by witnessing the love of their life, shot to death in an event that never had to happen. That was what scared Brook so deeply. Even with all that meaning, all the strength given to Ridley, he had still become nothing.

The scene was complete, at least for now. Brook sat next to Tiffany, staring over her form, and waited for sunrise. He never remembered closing his eyes.

[A new day....]
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Brook opened his eyes, and Tiffany was there. She was still there, even if she would never smile for anybody but him ever again. Never would she dance, or play or laugh or cry, or respond awkwardly to his drunken advances. At least she was still there, resting on the ground and ready to spend another day with him.

You were always that kind of girl, weren't you, Tiffany? What am I saying... you always are! I'll never let you die here, I made that promise...

He wasn't sure when he had closed his eyes, but it seemed his body desperately sought the sleep his will had done everything in its power to fight against. That wasn't good... to think that he still wasn't ready to dedicate himself, mind and body, heart and soul to Tiffany.

... Oh god, no.

Brook lept to his feet, his lower lip quivering as he looked down to the goddess at his feet. He was a culler of others, the gardener of this poorly overgrown island, and the Mighty Zinnia all at the same time. Compared to Tiffany, however, he was nothing. He had pledged himself to preserving her memory for as long as he may live, but somewhere in the dark of the night, he had fallen asleep.

"No, I'm... I'm sorry!" Silence came back up at him, causing the lanky boy to tremble as he stared down at her. There was an anger directed through the area that only Brook could feel, seeping through the red hole in her clothing and punching through his heart. She was well within her rights to be angry, but he just.... he just couldn't handle it! He looked around frantically, searching for anything he could say in his defense.

"It's.... it's still night time! It's still dark, I wasn't out for that long!" He begged. It was the truth for what it was worth; the sky was still dark, and Tiffany herself was somewhat hard to see. "I-I... I don't know what you want me to do!" Nothing from her, at least that anybody else could see. But Brook saw the true meaning behind the silence. For as quiet as it was, Tiffany may as well have just been screaming at him. The silence grew, and along with it, so did the deafening roar of her screams, the intensity of her glare.

"DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!" He shouted, shutting his eyes and grinding his palms against his ears. All just a futile effort; try as he might, the sounds would penetrate his hands, and the sight, his eyelids. It was all he could do just to stay standing, since he just wanted to fall to his knees at Tiffany's side, cry and continue to beg for forgiveness. There had to be some way to appease her, a way to keep her satisfied.

More... does she need... more?

But that was ridiculous. He would get more bodies for the lovely garden arrangement, but he had already dropped two husks chock full of the damned stuff onto the ground. That should've been enough... she couldn't possibly be hungering for MORE... could she?

That'd make her bloodlust... completely insatiable. I'm supposed to... stuff... I... aaaaaugh!!!

His thoughts were hardly making sense, but the most painful part was that Brook was quite aware of this very fact.

What... do... I...

It was then somebody showed up, and only then could Brook free himself from Tiffany's hold for a few moments. There was a moment or two where he just stared at the intruder upon his garden, trying to allow his brain to catch up to the current events going on all around him. The next step, of course, was to identify just who it was. That second part didn't take long; back at Bayview, the sweet, soft-spoken gardener had met a lot of people, and good ol' boy Colin Falcone was one of them. A lovely voice, cheery personality.

He'll do just fine.

The grin returned to Brook's face as he began walking towards Colin.
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"Colin..." Brook called out to the boy one more time as he approached. Colin also seemed to like talking a lot. It was enough to make Brook cringe, what with all of the incredibly stupid and grating words, but that was about what you'd expect from somebody who liked to use their voice so much. Right... he never really attended any of those shows, but if Colin had a nice set of pipes on him, maybe he could at least get a tune or so as he worked!

There was a question somewhere in the jabbering of the other boy. He looked so alone, so wonderfully helpless... squishy, even? When he stopped and really listened to the question though, the prey had a point: why wasn't he freaking out? Brook looked down at his own body, bewildered at just how much blood he had been covered with. When did he lose himself in the rust-colored waterfall of violence? When did he black out and allow himself to become immersed in his fears?

Who the hell was he? Did it matter?

He stared off to the side of Colin's feet, wading through the muck of these thoughts for a few moments or two. He tried to get close to the image of himself before all of this, but the memories were just too strange for him. Had he strayed too far from his original self? If he had, in his endless pursuit to make sure one girl of his life was never forgotten, then was their any point in forgetting? To return to his old self?

The answer of THAT should've been quite obvious.

"Hell... I guess I'm just too strung out by this point to care! All the way around on the scale and then some, right?" Brook giggled, looking back up to Colin. Some of his hair had worked itself loose of his hair-tie during the night, and had found its way into his face. As he continued to smile over to Colin to welcome him, he brushed the stray strands of hair out of his face and safely tucked them behind his ear.

The singer looked awfully wary of the situation, which was an annoyingly accurate and reasonable response. Brook would just have to take advantage of this before he could do anything silly or whatnot. "Well, Colin..." Brook sighed and walked to him, placing the arm that wasn't holding his gun around Colin's back and shoulders. "I've been keeping appearances around here..." He began to walk the two of them to the clearing. The cheery lies would soon be exposed, leaving nothing but bloody inner beauty. Brook could hardly wait.

As they walked, Brook thought about the junky little gun in his hand. Rather than stash it away and use the weapon that Ridley had, likely more formidable than the weapon he was using. But there was something special about this weapon. It was, after all, the little hunk of metal that he had woken up in this hell with, and so far it had served him well. Leila got her dirty little hands all over it, but at least he paid her his revenge. Not as much as he would have LIKED, but still to some extent.

The time was coming... they were well within view of the garden now, and he could practically feel Colin's trepidation seeping through the skin of his hand and arm. In line with Brook's step, his leg drew in front of both of Colin's, and Brook's arm gave a great shove in order to force Colin to the ground. Brook stared down at the boy mercilessly, the smile on his face returning to the more comfortable and slightly manic grin.

"This here! Take a good look, Colin! Ya like it? I'm gonna need your help..."
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