Re: Battle Royale! Game Complete!
10-13-2010, 08:15 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.
"Congratulations, Whit! Your continuous success is a surprise to me. Do let it continue."
Yifan smirked as he spoke, turning his back to lead Whit away.
Whit gulped at the words, and bit his tongue. He was afraid, obviously, of beings of a greater plane of existence- their mere presence offended his mortality- but this was a chance. The perfect chance was dangling in front of him, and all he had to do was grasp it.
"Wait. Don't I get a reward, a wish or something of the sort?"
The Composer smiled thinly, as if she knew what came next.
"Really, did I say that? In words? Or was it something you just decided, all on your own?"
Whit flinched, wracking his memories, thinking back to the beginning, the beginning of this nonsense- but he stopped himself before his mind drifted away too far. Whether or not it was true in the past did not matter- everything leaned on the Composer's current whim. But whim can not be controlled, nor manipulated by any outside force. It is entirely free of any binds.
In other words, this too was just luck.
"Hmmm... alright, I suppose the small asking of a man would be of no dire consequence." The Composer smile grew a little wider. "Tell me then, what are you so set upon?"
Whit shuddered in anticipation. This was it-! Slowly, he pointed his finger at the being he accepted as his god, and spoke the absurd notion his mind had cultured.
"Erase him."
Yifan blinked.
"Wait, what? That's... what? Why? what kind of purpose, what kind of meaning, really- Hurk!"
The Composer acted immediately, as if she were waiting to do something like this. With a turn of her finger, a strange chord spun through space, physically twisting Yifan's center. Desperately, he grasped the twisting space, attempting to bend it back, but only managing to slow the process.
"Sorry, Yifan. Even though you won this little game, fate appears to be against you! You won't be able stop this, not while you're in my domain. Won't you die with a little more grace?"
Grimacing, Yifan forced himself to smile.
"Well, I wonder what kind of afterlife-"
"You will not be getting one of those, I'm afraid. Your player's wish was very precisely worded, you know."
"Oh, that's... just... too... GRAHHH! Tell me, you little, infinitesmal...Whit O'donal! You get any wish, and what is it? Destroying something that hardly affects you! What's so direly wrong with you!?"
Yifan was spitting words now, ejecting pure energy with every word.
Whit held his calm, and began laying out his mindset before the dying god.
"Frankly, I've been feeling as if something was off the entire game. From the start, luck has been on my side- it always has, it always will be, because it's my luck. In this game, I should have, and was always challenged! I've bled everywhere, I've struggled like a worm, and I survived each encounter! and I WON IT ALL! I think I earned that much! I earned the right to my victory, right? I've earned it all, ME!"
He was spewing words now, breathlessly, saying more words than he thought. Accelerating now, he raised his hands above his head.
"Xeno, Grimm, Kobra, Gadget, Itzal, Zeke, Mike! I remember all of the names of the players at this table, and I confirmed that I was better than all of them! Even thought Mike struggled wildly, impossibly, incomprehensibly, I saw exactly where he could go no further, where his limit lay! My effort, my desire, my fate simply outweighed his! And, above that limit, I still, still cannot see my own! It isn't there! I was so certain that I had to find the limitation to my existence, a boundary I couldn't surpass, and yet I found that it didn't exist! I can't fail! No matter how bloody my face was, no matter how much it hurt, it didn't matter! As long as I desperately reached out, I knew it would turn out in my favor! And it always did! I-"
"Shut up, for the love of... well, me. I don't get it. I'm your god, and I don't get it. Something must be broken in there."
Yifan interrupted weakly, but with more composure. he still gripped the twist, but his face hardly twitched.
"...Yes, you wouldn't get it, the same way I can't understand your existence. But, I'll try to say anyway. Winning, stepping over the limits of those below me- it's the definition of my existence. I need it to be mine, always. That's why, that's WHY, my luck has to be my own! It supplements my effort, enhances my certainty! Nothing that occurs can be of something greater's design! I won't accept that my existence, the fact that I won here, is nothing but a way to pass the time for something on another plane. "
Whit toyed with the godgun in his off hand, the subject, the trigger to his obsession.
"This thing... it's yours. I owe it a lot- I can't imagine how things would have gone without it- but it's your toy. And my eyes. I thought I earned that power, but it isn't something I took- it was something given, by you. And I won't accept you."
Whit let his hand drop down from above his head, and slowly pointed at Yifan.
"...That's nonsense. Are you saying you're killing me, just because you want to be a stringless puppet? That I need to die for you to confirm your existence? That's ridiculous. Because I gave you a couple of toys, to make things "fair"... Oh, is it your luck again? I had nothing to do with that, but oh! Technically, if I just pretend to understand where you are coming from- I still made you, AND your "luck-" nothing can change that fact."
Yifan let go of the twist, accepting his fate or just deciding that he didn't need to listen to this drivel.
"...That's true. However, I'm ending you here. That means, this is where your limit is- this is as far as your existence can stretch. And, it's me who did it. The means don't matter- in the end, it was I who crushed you. That means I stand above your existence, that I take precedence over everything you are and have done!
Whit's voice rose to it's limit- he was practically screaming now, as if being louder would make what he was saying more correct.
"To create me, something superior to you, was the only reason for your existence! Everything you've done, everything in your world was made for ME!"
Silence. There wasn't anything to be said to refute Whit's logic, which bent in every direction until it formed a paragon, an untouchable loop of logic.
Still, Yifan was dying, and he wasn't going out without the last word.
"I will not change my mind- you are delusional and insane. You throw the word luck around like a crutch, to alter your undeserved success into something you've earned. Alright, have it your way. You've earned whatever it is you seek through your twisted "hard work." I'll accept it, and I'll be taking my leave. This is where we part, O superior being. Where ever you go, whatever you do, in the future I wish you... Luck."
'Luck' seemed to ring when he said it, seemed to hold an odd power, a certain...certainty to it as Yifan existence twisted into nothing.
Before Whit could try to understood what it meant, or celebrate his victory, he too was removed from the world. The last thing he saw was a woman, holding back her giggling.
An instant later, he was on a familiar street. Crowds bustling back and forth. A blue sky above. Whit forgot his worries and smiled, not because the world was pleasant, but because the world was his. He looked down on himself. It had been a while since he had really looked, but his clothes were tattered and pathetic looking, contrasting with his happy mood. It didn't matter, he'd just make some money quickly... It would be simple. He could do anything, really. With that, a new inclination struck him- he'd rule this world, every little piece of it! He'd grasp every chance that dangled by, and his effort would be rewarded, thousandfold. Everything in this world was just waiting for him to reach out-
A small scrap of paper landed on his cheek. Whit shook his head, but it held fast. Peeling it off, he examined it- it was a lottery ticket. Puzzled, he looked around, to see where it came from, only to have another paper fly towards him. This time, he caught it- part of a news paper, with the words "LOTTERY NUMBERS ANNOUNCED" boldly stretched over the top. A chill went up Whit's back. He already knew he had won. A bubbling feeling rose from his chest.
"HAHAHAHA! That's perfect, just perfect! This is how it should be, as the existence that ate it's god! Wish me luck? I will take it, I'll take everything! It's mine after all! I don't even need to try, everything will fall in my favor, right at my feet!"
He laughed harder now, laughing at the sky. That luck Yifan wished him was incredibly apparent- nothing subtle like he had already had. Through his eyes, Whit could see chance everywhere-It wasn't in pieces like before, it was an entire layer over his sight.
"This is great, this is wonderful..."
Whit gaze dropped down, down to the papers he held. Although he barely held them, they seemed stuck to him, as if they knew he owned them. That was how it was going to be- every little whim of his would be immediately answered. The world was a servant, waiting for his bidding. He didn't even need to lift a pinky. Effort, for him, was obselete.
He stopped smiling.
"...This is going to be very boring."
THE END
"Congratulations, Whit! Your continuous success is a surprise to me. Do let it continue."
Yifan smirked as he spoke, turning his back to lead Whit away.
Whit gulped at the words, and bit his tongue. He was afraid, obviously, of beings of a greater plane of existence- their mere presence offended his mortality- but this was a chance. The perfect chance was dangling in front of him, and all he had to do was grasp it.
"Wait. Don't I get a reward, a wish or something of the sort?"
The Composer smiled thinly, as if she knew what came next.
"Really, did I say that? In words? Or was it something you just decided, all on your own?"
Whit flinched, wracking his memories, thinking back to the beginning, the beginning of this nonsense- but he stopped himself before his mind drifted away too far. Whether or not it was true in the past did not matter- everything leaned on the Composer's current whim. But whim can not be controlled, nor manipulated by any outside force. It is entirely free of any binds.
In other words, this too was just luck.
"Hmmm... alright, I suppose the small asking of a man would be of no dire consequence." The Composer smile grew a little wider. "Tell me then, what are you so set upon?"
Whit shuddered in anticipation. This was it-! Slowly, he pointed his finger at the being he accepted as his god, and spoke the absurd notion his mind had cultured.
"Erase him."
Yifan blinked.
"Wait, what? That's... what? Why? what kind of purpose, what kind of meaning, really- Hurk!"
The Composer acted immediately, as if she were waiting to do something like this. With a turn of her finger, a strange chord spun through space, physically twisting Yifan's center. Desperately, he grasped the twisting space, attempting to bend it back, but only managing to slow the process.
"Sorry, Yifan. Even though you won this little game, fate appears to be against you! You won't be able stop this, not while you're in my domain. Won't you die with a little more grace?"
Grimacing, Yifan forced himself to smile.
"Well, I wonder what kind of afterlife-"
"You will not be getting one of those, I'm afraid. Your player's wish was very precisely worded, you know."
"Oh, that's... just... too... GRAHHH! Tell me, you little, infinitesmal...Whit O'donal! You get any wish, and what is it? Destroying something that hardly affects you! What's so direly wrong with you!?"
Yifan was spitting words now, ejecting pure energy with every word.
Whit held his calm, and began laying out his mindset before the dying god.
"Frankly, I've been feeling as if something was off the entire game. From the start, luck has been on my side- it always has, it always will be, because it's my luck. In this game, I should have, and was always challenged! I've bled everywhere, I've struggled like a worm, and I survived each encounter! and I WON IT ALL! I think I earned that much! I earned the right to my victory, right? I've earned it all, ME!"
He was spewing words now, breathlessly, saying more words than he thought. Accelerating now, he raised his hands above his head.
"Xeno, Grimm, Kobra, Gadget, Itzal, Zeke, Mike! I remember all of the names of the players at this table, and I confirmed that I was better than all of them! Even thought Mike struggled wildly, impossibly, incomprehensibly, I saw exactly where he could go no further, where his limit lay! My effort, my desire, my fate simply outweighed his! And, above that limit, I still, still cannot see my own! It isn't there! I was so certain that I had to find the limitation to my existence, a boundary I couldn't surpass, and yet I found that it didn't exist! I can't fail! No matter how bloody my face was, no matter how much it hurt, it didn't matter! As long as I desperately reached out, I knew it would turn out in my favor! And it always did! I-"
"Shut up, for the love of... well, me. I don't get it. I'm your god, and I don't get it. Something must be broken in there."
Yifan interrupted weakly, but with more composure. he still gripped the twist, but his face hardly twitched.
"...Yes, you wouldn't get it, the same way I can't understand your existence. But, I'll try to say anyway. Winning, stepping over the limits of those below me- it's the definition of my existence. I need it to be mine, always. That's why, that's WHY, my luck has to be my own! It supplements my effort, enhances my certainty! Nothing that occurs can be of something greater's design! I won't accept that my existence, the fact that I won here, is nothing but a way to pass the time for something on another plane. "
Whit toyed with the godgun in his off hand, the subject, the trigger to his obsession.
"This thing... it's yours. I owe it a lot- I can't imagine how things would have gone without it- but it's your toy. And my eyes. I thought I earned that power, but it isn't something I took- it was something given, by you. And I won't accept you."
Whit let his hand drop down from above his head, and slowly pointed at Yifan.
"...That's nonsense. Are you saying you're killing me, just because you want to be a stringless puppet? That I need to die for you to confirm your existence? That's ridiculous. Because I gave you a couple of toys, to make things "fair"... Oh, is it your luck again? I had nothing to do with that, but oh! Technically, if I just pretend to understand where you are coming from- I still made you, AND your "luck-" nothing can change that fact."
Yifan let go of the twist, accepting his fate or just deciding that he didn't need to listen to this drivel.
"...That's true. However, I'm ending you here. That means, this is where your limit is- this is as far as your existence can stretch. And, it's me who did it. The means don't matter- in the end, it was I who crushed you. That means I stand above your existence, that I take precedence over everything you are and have done!
Whit's voice rose to it's limit- he was practically screaming now, as if being louder would make what he was saying more correct.
"To create me, something superior to you, was the only reason for your existence! Everything you've done, everything in your world was made for ME!"
Silence. There wasn't anything to be said to refute Whit's logic, which bent in every direction until it formed a paragon, an untouchable loop of logic.
Still, Yifan was dying, and he wasn't going out without the last word.
"I will not change my mind- you are delusional and insane. You throw the word luck around like a crutch, to alter your undeserved success into something you've earned. Alright, have it your way. You've earned whatever it is you seek through your twisted "hard work." I'll accept it, and I'll be taking my leave. This is where we part, O superior being. Where ever you go, whatever you do, in the future I wish you... Luck."
'Luck' seemed to ring when he said it, seemed to hold an odd power, a certain...certainty to it as Yifan existence twisted into nothing.
Before Whit could try to understood what it meant, or celebrate his victory, he too was removed from the world. The last thing he saw was a woman, holding back her giggling.
An instant later, he was on a familiar street. Crowds bustling back and forth. A blue sky above. Whit forgot his worries and smiled, not because the world was pleasant, but because the world was his. He looked down on himself. It had been a while since he had really looked, but his clothes were tattered and pathetic looking, contrasting with his happy mood. It didn't matter, he'd just make some money quickly... It would be simple. He could do anything, really. With that, a new inclination struck him- he'd rule this world, every little piece of it! He'd grasp every chance that dangled by, and his effort would be rewarded, thousandfold. Everything in this world was just waiting for him to reach out-
A small scrap of paper landed on his cheek. Whit shook his head, but it held fast. Peeling it off, he examined it- it was a lottery ticket. Puzzled, he looked around, to see where it came from, only to have another paper fly towards him. This time, he caught it- part of a news paper, with the words "LOTTERY NUMBERS ANNOUNCED" boldly stretched over the top. A chill went up Whit's back. He already knew he had won. A bubbling feeling rose from his chest.
"HAHAHAHA! That's perfect, just perfect! This is how it should be, as the existence that ate it's god! Wish me luck? I will take it, I'll take everything! It's mine after all! I don't even need to try, everything will fall in my favor, right at my feet!"
He laughed harder now, laughing at the sky. That luck Yifan wished him was incredibly apparent- nothing subtle like he had already had. Through his eyes, Whit could see chance everywhere-It wasn't in pieces like before, it was an entire layer over his sight.
"This is great, this is wonderful..."
Whit gaze dropped down, down to the papers he held. Although he barely held them, they seemed stuck to him, as if they knew he owned them. That was how it was going to be- every little whim of his would be immediately answered. The world was a servant, waiting for his bidding. He didn't even need to lift a pinky. Effort, for him, was obselete.
He stopped smiling.
"...This is going to be very boring."
THE END