...And I came this far.
Characters: P/Raise and Evilujah (subject_e0057)
Date/Time: Dec. 15th, Midday
Location: The Wilderness
Rating: R for violence and gore.
Summary: tl;dr: P/Raise vs Evilujah.
------
It had been days, and still that strange conversation on the journals was winding its way through his mind. He knew better than to pay attention- After all, none of the doubles had proved themselves beneficial... why would this be the one exception? He knew not to trust Asura’s words.
…So why did they keep bothering him? ”You, as well, are being wasted.”, ”Sometimes force is necessary…”, ” Wouldn't you like the power to stop them? You could have it, if the two of you worked together.”
They disturbed him so much because they rang so true. He knew his abilities were useless here. Yes, he enjoyed the peace and tranquility of just going about his life- going to work, visiting Drake, taking care of himself… it was so easy to leave the conflicts to the guards- people like Drake, with astounding abilities. People like Bastet who were able to defeat him at his best without breaking a sweat. To leave his own double to Sniper and Aurora. It was simple to do. But there was still that part in him-Praise?-No, he simply agreed…. There was still a part of himself that longed to do more than just watch from the sidelines. It was only amplified by his second personality, the far more volatile half picking up on his desires and pointing them out.
”We can do more,” Praise hissed in the back of his mind, goading the thoughts forward. ”Our doppelganger’s back. You wish to just leave him for the others to pick up after?” The words were annoyed, aggravated. Raise knew he wanted nothing more than to go out, to fight something, to do anything. After all, without conflict… Praise had no purpose. He existed for no reason, forced to take a backseat to his other’s mind and pass the time, being ignored and shunted away. An opportunity like this needed to be grasped.
He sighed, writing a quick note in his journal and returning to the materials he was getting together. “…I know.” Raise murmured quietly. “….that’s why we’re going.” He couldn’t let it happen again- His other had threatened Sniper and Aurora, Gundam’s brother(?)Honor, and the people she stayed with.. and he knew that he would carry through on all of his threats. He knew how his double worked, how he thought… he knew because it was exactly like him.
Was that why he was so afraid of his twin? He could see himself becoming the exact same? Perhaps that was why Asura’s words made him doubt himself. He did want to help, to stop the double. He did want to allow Praise to help him, to take responsibility, to end conflicts, and to realize his true potential. And yet, he was absolutely sure that these things would drive him deeper into his own insanity, warping him into that which he was hunting. The thought gave him a hollow feeling in his stomach, mismatched eyes looking down to the gun he was in the process of loading. A holster was already as his waist, and a few rounds tucked away- along with the knife Praise was so fond of.
But… if he didn’t kill his double… someone else would do it for him. He would be skirting his own responsibility. He would be endangering other people. What if he… his grip tightened on the handgun.
”Stop that.” The words were barking, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle. ”Don’t hesitate. You always think to much, and I have to take over. Stop it.” After a moment, Praise spoke gently- far more so than usual. ”…This is right. We have to fight. It’s all we can do.”
What had Asura said? Someone like you was made to fight.
Made to fight. His brows came together. Unlike the usual vague pings of memory, the hazy feeling of nostalgia… this rang true. Thoroughly and absolutely. He was sure of this fact. No matter his feelings on the matter, he was made to fight.
Shoving the gun in the holster, he left the journal on the table for Drake. He wasn’t letting the man know of his intentions, nor his location- if he did, he was sure he would end up locked in a room. But... leaving his journal on the table was probably enough of a sign. If he wasn’t in the house, and didn’t have the journal, especially with the evil twins running around…
Well, he trusted Drake was smart enough to realize it meant he was off doing something stupid. Stupid enough to be afraid he would die again.
”We’re not going to die,” Praise scoffed, restlessly urging his other to walk faster to the elevator, to go down to the wilderness. That was the place Raise had decided on- after all, there were typically many places they could use to get an advantage... and not that many people that could be harmed. ”We’re the original.”
”…Mmm.” Raise merely hummed in response as he pressed the button for the floor of the Wilderness, pulling out the gun. It was a good handgun he had received from Sniper, a nice weight, semi-automatic… but something about it seemed a little off. The feeling of the trigger? He had no idea. It was just another idle thought to distract him from the idea of going to kill his double.
Finally, the elevator pinged open. He had given enough time, he assumed, for his double to read the note in his journal and hurry down. If he would at all… but wasn’t Raise the object of his desires? Whatever the case, Raise was hoping that he had given enough time to arrive after his double, giving him at least a faint advantage.
He stepped out, eyes glancing about warily. It had changed from the city… of course. Thin bits of land, bamboo stalks, and… water, everywhere. Well... if it wasn’t too deep, it would make the fight.. interesting. He held the handgun up at the ready, taking a breath to calm himself.
”Oh, He came!” Praise’s distinct voice, low and excited, with just a tinge of insanity sounded from his right. It was different to hear the voice come from somewhere other than his own mouth, but the surprise could come later.
”…I’m amazed he had the tenacity to come stop us.” His own voice, much more calm, spoke afterwards.
”….?” Now that was different. He drew back a little, watching the other him that was walking around one of the springs to speak to them. His double had an insane grin on his features, the gold and gray eye alight in mirth and excitement, with all the calculating precision of a large cat stalking its pray. Raise was more curious, though, in the way he spoke to himself to readily- his hair was shoved back from his face to give no physical distinction if the personalities were simply swapped back to readily, or…
He took a hesitant step back. Were they both active at once? It seemed familiar, but-
”Shoot them!” Praise’s voice in his mind kicked him back into gear, wasting no words as he drew the gun and pulled back the trigger.
The double laughed, skirting out of the way almost as soon as the trigger had been depressed, the shot completely missing. He was on the original almost as soon as Raise had realized it, grabbing his wrist to wrench the gun down and to the ground. “You see!” The voice so alike Praise’s gleeful in destruction, cried out happily. “He really is pathetic!”
Raise’s eyes went wide, fighting to keep a grip on the gun as he bright his free hand up in a strike, easily blocked. It was like training with Bastet, except now his opposition was merciless as well as confident in his advantage with speed.
He tugged back with an arm, before following Praise’s advice and sinking his teeth into the double’s shoulder. With his arms occupied, there wasn’t much room for any respectable fighting. The double cried out, hot pain flaring through the offended limb.
He pulled back quickly, that composed grin once again taking place on those eerily identical features. “Obviously Praise told him to,” his replica finally commented, almost sneering in the way he watched the original. “You think he would do this on his own?”
And he leapt forward again with a mad, Praise-like laugh. It was fast- again, almost too fast for his eyes to keep track of, and too sudden for him to bring up a true defense or leap from the way. His double brought a hand up into his face, sending his mind reeling and blood spurting from a clearly broken nose. He went to step back, but there was a leg there, barring his motion.
…When had they learned this form of combat? He had a moment to wonder about the skilled throw before he hit the ground on his back, winded and coughing. His eyes went wide as he forced himself to inhale, only to be greeted by a brutal kick to the center of his back.
”Hey now, don’t be boring…” The words were deceptively calm, interspersed with slightly ragged breathing. It was obvious he was getting far more into this than he should have, enjoying breaking down the original. He kicked the original again, grinning as Raise gave a groan of pain, before crouching down to grab his hair.
”Why don’t you let him take over?” He hissed. Was it the copy of raise? Or Praise? The line between the two was so blurred, Raise was unable to tell the difference. He grit is teeth as he was hauled up by the hair, unconscious of the tears stinging at his eyes reflexively. “Trying to play hero? Prove you can do it on your own?” Another mad laugh.
”You can’t.”
Raise stifled another pained noise as he scrambled to his feet, hair still wrenched in the hand of his enemy. Yes... he couldn’t think of this as himself, or his double. This man was an enemy, pure and simple. Asura was right.
He quickly pulled himself back, ripping his hair from his double’s grasp, before advancing himself. He wouldn’t rely on his other half, despite the others demands and shouts in his mind. No… this was something he needed to do.
Unfortunately, is was as though the twin had expected the motion, pulling Raise towards him and allowing himself to fall onto his back. A lifted leg carried the original’s momentum, sending the man once against to hit the ground hard once, before the forward motion carried him into one of the springs. He tensed at the cold water, though the surprise wasn’t long-lasting. After a short moment he became preoccupied with the hands, not pulling him from the water to continue his beating, but instead holding him down by the throat.
His eyes went wide, limbs thrashing, though under the water he couldn’t hear... well, much of anything. Despite how close he was to the surface, how he could see his twin grinning, lips moving in taunts and insults, even though it was distorted by the ripples and splashes, all he could hear was garbled sounds of his own and the water around him.
…At least he could take solace in the fact that Drake had his journal. He would know what had happened, if the twin posed as him. Another bubble of air escaping him, he grabbed at the doubled hands, scratching, tearing, anything to--
He reached suddenly for this knife in desperation. Anything to free him from the hands holding him under the water. His mind was in panic mode, reeling. He didn’t care what happened, as long as he had air. The knife, usually tucked in his belt was missing. He mentally cursed and gave another exhausted buck. And still, the twin was staring down at him. He as kind of glad he couldn’t hear the threats, the taunts, but he could envision them.
He let his eyes close. His adrenaline was wearing thin. Asura was right- he had been made to fight. His double proved that fact. But… he couldn’t do it on his own. Ironically, he reached out with his mind towards Praise, as though apologizing.
…He probably needed to give him more credit than he usually got. He got no answer in return though. For a short moment, the thought that, perhaps Praise had died first, occurred to him. That was familiar. And--
He had been held under the water for less than a minute when there was another splash of the water and… the hands were gone. He instantly rose in a flurry of limbs, gasping for air and hacking up the water he breathed in. Raise expected a blow, a taunt, to be shoved back under, anything! …But it never came. Chest heaving, hair dipping wetly in his face, he looked to where the double had been.
He blinked, making sure he had seen in correctly.
His double was occupied with… what looked to be a mirror image of himself. Was he hallucinating more than usual? Was this what happened when you were dead? He tensed, before Praise’s familiar voice shouted at him, his other on the ground, arms up to protect his face from blows.
”You idiot!” He roared. His knee came up in a solid hit to the twin’s genitals, buying Praise time to create space between them. Raise didn’t need further prompting. He leapt from the spring and for the gun laid on the ground, quickly drawing it and aiming at the two struggling figures. “Kill him! No-” Praise was cut off as a fist connected solidly with his jaw, his mind sent reeling.
This was confusing. It was illogical. But Praise had given him an order, and he would follow it. After all, disregarding them typically ended poorly. He pulled the trigger, hitting the double solidly in the shoulder. He continued moving forward quickly, pulling it again. It’s eyes went wide as a bullet tore through its throat. Raise let out a scream of frustration, continuing to pull the trigger, his limbs shaking, and riddle his duplicate with bullets. Even after it collapsed, metallic eyes still and wide, he continued to empty the clip into it. It was obvious from looking at him that he was shaken, desperate to be sure of it’s death, and ignoring anything around him.
He continued to pull the trigger, only a clicking noise coming from the gun, before he finally stopped, staring at the scene as though for the first time. A corpse, identical to him, on the ground, bleeding from fourteen different bullet wounds. Praise, stuck underneath it where he had been pinned by its knees, nursing various wounds. His eye was blackened and beginning to swell, and he shared the broken nose of his other. He seemed to be ignoring the first two, though, a hand clamped down on one of his arms.
”….We need to teach you how to aim,” He finally snarled out, furious as he looked up at Raise.
Raise dropped the gun, still staring blankly. He had killed… well, someone who looked just like himself. Gundam’s murderer, yes… but it was him. His other self was on the ground, gritting his teeth and shoving the corpse off himself. He was sitting there, tears welling in his eyes.
”….I don’t understand.” He finally spoke, words shaking along with his limbs. “I’m…?” Was he there, kneeling on the ground? Had be been the shooter? Was the dead? The injured party coming towards him? All three (four?) had the potential to be... him. His breath came shallowly, taking a bloodied lip between his teeth. “I… I don’t…”
Someone like you was made to fight.
He raised his hands to his head, fingers threading in his hair as his body jerked, an unwanted sob wracking him. For someone who already had existential issues… this was a little too much at once.
Date/Time: Dec. 15th, Midday
Location: The Wilderness
Rating: R for violence and gore.
Summary: tl;dr: P/Raise vs Evilujah.
------
It had been days, and still that strange conversation on the journals was winding its way through his mind. He knew better than to pay attention- After all, none of the doubles had proved themselves beneficial... why would this be the one exception? He knew not to trust Asura’s words.
…So why did they keep bothering him? ”You, as well, are being wasted.”, ”Sometimes force is necessary…”, ” Wouldn't you like the power to stop them? You could have it, if the two of you worked together.”
They disturbed him so much because they rang so true. He knew his abilities were useless here. Yes, he enjoyed the peace and tranquility of just going about his life- going to work, visiting Drake, taking care of himself… it was so easy to leave the conflicts to the guards- people like Drake, with astounding abilities. People like Bastet who were able to defeat him at his best without breaking a sweat. To leave his own double to Sniper and Aurora. It was simple to do. But there was still that part in him-Praise?-No, he simply agreed…. There was still a part of himself that longed to do more than just watch from the sidelines. It was only amplified by his second personality, the far more volatile half picking up on his desires and pointing them out.
”We can do more,” Praise hissed in the back of his mind, goading the thoughts forward. ”Our doppelganger’s back. You wish to just leave him for the others to pick up after?” The words were annoyed, aggravated. Raise knew he wanted nothing more than to go out, to fight something, to do anything. After all, without conflict… Praise had no purpose. He existed for no reason, forced to take a backseat to his other’s mind and pass the time, being ignored and shunted away. An opportunity like this needed to be grasped.
He sighed, writing a quick note in his journal and returning to the materials he was getting together. “…I know.” Raise murmured quietly. “….that’s why we’re going.” He couldn’t let it happen again- His other had threatened Sniper and Aurora, Gundam’s brother(?)Honor, and the people she stayed with.. and he knew that he would carry through on all of his threats. He knew how his double worked, how he thought… he knew because it was exactly like him.
Was that why he was so afraid of his twin? He could see himself becoming the exact same? Perhaps that was why Asura’s words made him doubt himself. He did want to help, to stop the double. He did want to allow Praise to help him, to take responsibility, to end conflicts, and to realize his true potential. And yet, he was absolutely sure that these things would drive him deeper into his own insanity, warping him into that which he was hunting. The thought gave him a hollow feeling in his stomach, mismatched eyes looking down to the gun he was in the process of loading. A holster was already as his waist, and a few rounds tucked away- along with the knife Praise was so fond of.
But… if he didn’t kill his double… someone else would do it for him. He would be skirting his own responsibility. He would be endangering other people. What if he… his grip tightened on the handgun.
”Stop that.” The words were barking, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle. ”Don’t hesitate. You always think to much, and I have to take over. Stop it.” After a moment, Praise spoke gently- far more so than usual. ”…This is right. We have to fight. It’s all we can do.”
What had Asura said? Someone like you was made to fight.
Made to fight. His brows came together. Unlike the usual vague pings of memory, the hazy feeling of nostalgia… this rang true. Thoroughly and absolutely. He was sure of this fact. No matter his feelings on the matter, he was made to fight.
Shoving the gun in the holster, he left the journal on the table for Drake. He wasn’t letting the man know of his intentions, nor his location- if he did, he was sure he would end up locked in a room. But... leaving his journal on the table was probably enough of a sign. If he wasn’t in the house, and didn’t have the journal, especially with the evil twins running around…
Well, he trusted Drake was smart enough to realize it meant he was off doing something stupid. Stupid enough to be afraid he would die again.
”We’re not going to die,” Praise scoffed, restlessly urging his other to walk faster to the elevator, to go down to the wilderness. That was the place Raise had decided on- after all, there were typically many places they could use to get an advantage... and not that many people that could be harmed. ”We’re the original.”
”…Mmm.” Raise merely hummed in response as he pressed the button for the floor of the Wilderness, pulling out the gun. It was a good handgun he had received from Sniper, a nice weight, semi-automatic… but something about it seemed a little off. The feeling of the trigger? He had no idea. It was just another idle thought to distract him from the idea of going to kill his double.
Finally, the elevator pinged open. He had given enough time, he assumed, for his double to read the note in his journal and hurry down. If he would at all… but wasn’t Raise the object of his desires? Whatever the case, Raise was hoping that he had given enough time to arrive after his double, giving him at least a faint advantage.
He stepped out, eyes glancing about warily. It had changed from the city… of course. Thin bits of land, bamboo stalks, and… water, everywhere. Well... if it wasn’t too deep, it would make the fight.. interesting. He held the handgun up at the ready, taking a breath to calm himself.
”Oh, He came!” Praise’s distinct voice, low and excited, with just a tinge of insanity sounded from his right. It was different to hear the voice come from somewhere other than his own mouth, but the surprise could come later.
”…I’m amazed he had the tenacity to come stop us.” His own voice, much more calm, spoke afterwards.
”….?” Now that was different. He drew back a little, watching the other him that was walking around one of the springs to speak to them. His double had an insane grin on his features, the gold and gray eye alight in mirth and excitement, with all the calculating precision of a large cat stalking its pray. Raise was more curious, though, in the way he spoke to himself to readily- his hair was shoved back from his face to give no physical distinction if the personalities were simply swapped back to readily, or…
He took a hesitant step back. Were they both active at once? It seemed familiar, but-
”Shoot them!” Praise’s voice in his mind kicked him back into gear, wasting no words as he drew the gun and pulled back the trigger.
The double laughed, skirting out of the way almost as soon as the trigger had been depressed, the shot completely missing. He was on the original almost as soon as Raise had realized it, grabbing his wrist to wrench the gun down and to the ground. “You see!” The voice so alike Praise’s gleeful in destruction, cried out happily. “He really is pathetic!”
Raise’s eyes went wide, fighting to keep a grip on the gun as he bright his free hand up in a strike, easily blocked. It was like training with Bastet, except now his opposition was merciless as well as confident in his advantage with speed.
He tugged back with an arm, before following Praise’s advice and sinking his teeth into the double’s shoulder. With his arms occupied, there wasn’t much room for any respectable fighting. The double cried out, hot pain flaring through the offended limb.
He pulled back quickly, that composed grin once again taking place on those eerily identical features. “Obviously Praise told him to,” his replica finally commented, almost sneering in the way he watched the original. “You think he would do this on his own?”
And he leapt forward again with a mad, Praise-like laugh. It was fast- again, almost too fast for his eyes to keep track of, and too sudden for him to bring up a true defense or leap from the way. His double brought a hand up into his face, sending his mind reeling and blood spurting from a clearly broken nose. He went to step back, but there was a leg there, barring his motion.
…When had they learned this form of combat? He had a moment to wonder about the skilled throw before he hit the ground on his back, winded and coughing. His eyes went wide as he forced himself to inhale, only to be greeted by a brutal kick to the center of his back.
”Hey now, don’t be boring…” The words were deceptively calm, interspersed with slightly ragged breathing. It was obvious he was getting far more into this than he should have, enjoying breaking down the original. He kicked the original again, grinning as Raise gave a groan of pain, before crouching down to grab his hair.
”Why don’t you let him take over?” He hissed. Was it the copy of raise? Or Praise? The line between the two was so blurred, Raise was unable to tell the difference. He grit is teeth as he was hauled up by the hair, unconscious of the tears stinging at his eyes reflexively. “Trying to play hero? Prove you can do it on your own?” Another mad laugh.
”You can’t.”
Raise stifled another pained noise as he scrambled to his feet, hair still wrenched in the hand of his enemy. Yes... he couldn’t think of this as himself, or his double. This man was an enemy, pure and simple. Asura was right.
He quickly pulled himself back, ripping his hair from his double’s grasp, before advancing himself. He wouldn’t rely on his other half, despite the others demands and shouts in his mind. No… this was something he needed to do.
Unfortunately, is was as though the twin had expected the motion, pulling Raise towards him and allowing himself to fall onto his back. A lifted leg carried the original’s momentum, sending the man once against to hit the ground hard once, before the forward motion carried him into one of the springs. He tensed at the cold water, though the surprise wasn’t long-lasting. After a short moment he became preoccupied with the hands, not pulling him from the water to continue his beating, but instead holding him down by the throat.
His eyes went wide, limbs thrashing, though under the water he couldn’t hear... well, much of anything. Despite how close he was to the surface, how he could see his twin grinning, lips moving in taunts and insults, even though it was distorted by the ripples and splashes, all he could hear was garbled sounds of his own and the water around him.
…At least he could take solace in the fact that Drake had his journal. He would know what had happened, if the twin posed as him. Another bubble of air escaping him, he grabbed at the doubled hands, scratching, tearing, anything to--
He reached suddenly for this knife in desperation. Anything to free him from the hands holding him under the water. His mind was in panic mode, reeling. He didn’t care what happened, as long as he had air. The knife, usually tucked in his belt was missing. He mentally cursed and gave another exhausted buck. And still, the twin was staring down at him. He as kind of glad he couldn’t hear the threats, the taunts, but he could envision them.
He let his eyes close. His adrenaline was wearing thin. Asura was right- he had been made to fight. His double proved that fact. But… he couldn’t do it on his own. Ironically, he reached out with his mind towards Praise, as though apologizing.
…He probably needed to give him more credit than he usually got. He got no answer in return though. For a short moment, the thought that, perhaps Praise had died first, occurred to him. That was familiar. And--
He had been held under the water for less than a minute when there was another splash of the water and… the hands were gone. He instantly rose in a flurry of limbs, gasping for air and hacking up the water he breathed in. Raise expected a blow, a taunt, to be shoved back under, anything! …But it never came. Chest heaving, hair dipping wetly in his face, he looked to where the double had been.
He blinked, making sure he had seen in correctly.
His double was occupied with… what looked to be a mirror image of himself. Was he hallucinating more than usual? Was this what happened when you were dead? He tensed, before Praise’s familiar voice shouted at him, his other on the ground, arms up to protect his face from blows.
”You idiot!” He roared. His knee came up in a solid hit to the twin’s genitals, buying Praise time to create space between them. Raise didn’t need further prompting. He leapt from the spring and for the gun laid on the ground, quickly drawing it and aiming at the two struggling figures. “Kill him! No-” Praise was cut off as a fist connected solidly with his jaw, his mind sent reeling.
This was confusing. It was illogical. But Praise had given him an order, and he would follow it. After all, disregarding them typically ended poorly. He pulled the trigger, hitting the double solidly in the shoulder. He continued moving forward quickly, pulling it again. It’s eyes went wide as a bullet tore through its throat. Raise let out a scream of frustration, continuing to pull the trigger, his limbs shaking, and riddle his duplicate with bullets. Even after it collapsed, metallic eyes still and wide, he continued to empty the clip into it. It was obvious from looking at him that he was shaken, desperate to be sure of it’s death, and ignoring anything around him.
He continued to pull the trigger, only a clicking noise coming from the gun, before he finally stopped, staring at the scene as though for the first time. A corpse, identical to him, on the ground, bleeding from fourteen different bullet wounds. Praise, stuck underneath it where he had been pinned by its knees, nursing various wounds. His eye was blackened and beginning to swell, and he shared the broken nose of his other. He seemed to be ignoring the first two, though, a hand clamped down on one of his arms.
”….We need to teach you how to aim,” He finally snarled out, furious as he looked up at Raise.
Raise dropped the gun, still staring blankly. He had killed… well, someone who looked just like himself. Gundam’s murderer, yes… but it was him. His other self was on the ground, gritting his teeth and shoving the corpse off himself. He was sitting there, tears welling in his eyes.
”….I don’t understand.” He finally spoke, words shaking along with his limbs. “I’m…?” Was he there, kneeling on the ground? Had be been the shooter? Was the dead? The injured party coming towards him? All three (four?) had the potential to be... him. His breath came shallowly, taking a bloodied lip between his teeth. “I… I don’t…”
Someone like you was made to fight.
He raised his hands to his head, fingers threading in his hair as his body jerked, an unwanted sob wracking him. For someone who already had existential issues… this was a little too much at once.