Survival is Crucial

Le Perv

Something is wrong. Things that were there are gone now and have been replaced, only one isn't a replacement, no, multiple, they're new and it is followed by a peculiar pain engulfing their head. It's almost as if they're a congregation, flooding a room and sitting in an array of chairs formed in a circle. Many a conversation went on between them, contemplating, reorganizing, breathing, processing. An inordinate amount of stress that had seemingly come out of nowhere, they had no choice, after all. Panic, despair...

***

A seemingly abandoned motel room with Tyche sitting on a bed in the middle of it, face in his hands as a faint humming could be heard outside. Light beams through the curtains, dust floating visibly in the air as the curtains move periodically to the movement of a faint breeze. The room was humid and it was hard to breathe in giving Tyche no moment of respite during these trying times, but it was his only opportunity to mull on everything. The words, "Calm down." Echoed through his head, the voice of a woman. He chose to not recognize it, but took the words to heart, falling onto the bed whilst staring up at a rotten ceiling, paint curling, and rotting atop drywall. The clacking of feet hitting against asphalt could be heard outside his room as the lock to his door rattled until opening.

Two men wearing all black entered, being greeted by a depressed Tyche, laying down on his bed with lifeless eyes. "We took care of the bodies." One of them said, throwing a pair of keys onto a dresser in the corner. "They all died, those who helped you?"

"Yes..."

Tyche blinked, the next moment finding himself in the same doorway, he himself was the one who threw the keys onto the dresser, he himself was the one who had disposed of the bodies. The bodies of Carla, Petrov, Jack, those brothers... even Nick. Tyche's brain had tried many ways to cope with the situation, tried telling him that he wasn't the one who did when in fact, he was. He was smarter than that to give in to such delusions, it wasn't that hard to snap out of them after all.

Time and time again, Tyche had learned how easy it was to kill a person, yet could not help to be confused about how his own survival had persisted until now. First, that day, when he was hiding under his bed, shivering in feet as a man's boots stomped across carpeted flooring before firing multiple rounds into him and his sister. Arguable, he had suffered worse wounds, yet, he was the one to survive there. The restaurant, when they should've gotten the jump on him, he managed to do it instead, when the situation should've been impossible to get out of, managing to fire upon multiple men with a pistol that had been stolen. Under the bridge, across Nevada, the man on fire, and now, almost every time as well, someone was killed due to his action.

It's so easy to kill...

It was so easy in fact, that all Tyche had to do in order to kill Nick, was wrap his hands around his throat while he was unconscious, digging his thumbs into his throat, pushing more and more until his adam's apple closed Nick's windpipe, suffocating, and killing him, but, Tyche went a bit too far. Tyche had pushed so far in fact that he could even hear a crack, then, Nick's body twitched, then went limp, saliva running down his cheek mixing with the dried blood that had covered his face previous. It was so, easy.

It was so easy in fact, that Tyche knew for a fact, that once he found the guy who had caused all of this, that he would be able to kill him pretty easily too. Tyche was tired of it all but did not believe that suicide would solve anything, no, what would solve everything would be to kill the one who had caused all of this suffering, to wring the man's neck or woman, Tyche didn't care much, just as long as he could end it all, stop it from continuing. As far as Tyche would think, this was hell to him, but he still knew better than that to believe that he would be better off with more people, he knew he would be better off by himself. Taking account of people is too much of a hassle anyway. Tyche didn't even mind the voices anymore, if anything, he welcomed them, at least when they self-deprecate him now he got something from it, unlike before.

He thought all of this but also knew that he grew a little more insane than he already was beforehand, a wicked smile on his face as his eyes told a different story, going back over to the bed while staring back up at the rotten ceiling above, listening to his heart palpitate. When he would mull over the past for even a second, his heart would sting, but once he stopped, forcing himself to do so, he would go back to his eerie calmness within an all too old room.

This time, it wasn't a delusion, a man wearing a suit jerry-rigged the door, opening it, and waltzed in. Sitting down on a torn chair right across from Tyche.

Tyche sat himself up, his dark, sunken-in eyes focusing on the man, his irises visibly dilating as the reflection shined brightly against his sapphire-colored eyes. The man noticed this as well, a smile coming across his face... this was the man with one functioning eye. "You have very pretty eyes..." He commented, "Just like your mothers, your brothers, and your fathers. That's without the 's, by the way. Your father's father, s**t like that." He waved his hand like he was embarrassed.

A glare that could make a man vomit in fear appeared on Tyche's face, "Who are you?"

The man smiled, "I just wanted to let you know about things since I just figured out how fun you are!" He clapped, rubbing his hands together, "I'm not actually here, but this isn't something you've created in your head either."

"What?"

"It doesn't matter, I just wanted to let you know something that should motivate you more."

Silence... until, "What is it?"

"I am -- 1. The leader of Escravos, more accurately, the acting leader, not the 'leader' leader. 2. I am the cause of your family's demise."

Then, Tyche woke up.