Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Round 1: Everybody's Dead!)
07-24-2010, 01:51 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Sruixan.
Every word the Redeemer spoke pushed Zachariah’s heart further down into stomach; the weight of such an inconvenient and ineffable reality as the one he had had the great misfortune of having been thrust straight into was too much to bear without bending. The realisation he had fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book was another nail in the coffin; but of course, the eccentric he’d struck the deal with had no need to harm him. There were seven other people here who would be more than happy to do that (eight if one counted the being who was overseeing the engagement). Despite his lingering presence in the world of the living, Zach felt like he was at something of a disadvantage in this battle; after all, every other fighter here shared the exact same unusual characteristic.
There was no way that was the end of it, however; that peculiar choice of words, “bisecting his soul” and the appearance of his corpse beside him caused yet another pang of anxiety to manifest itself in what was once his brain. The connection was made to the odd wording of his saviour’s claim and something clicked. As the Redeemer revealed the twist to his participation in the battle, the ghost of Zach had just that moment twigged it.
His passion for the rational was being sorely tested. The innumerable impossibilities that had befallen him were mind-boggling and doubtlessly inexplicable. So he didn’t bother. What he did bother with, though, was trying to wrap his head around the existence of another him – it was a thought experiment incarnate, one that should never be played out in reality under normal circumstances, but here…
And yes, before him now was his ex-cadaver, rigor mortis now dispelled, staring him down with the same expression of sheer astonishment that he knew he too displayed. He could feel his jaw unhinging itself, almost exactly as the other half of himself let his do the same. What was he like? How similar was he, apart from, well, being notably more palpable?
For a moment or two, neither of the pair made any more movements; both were completely dumbfounded, incapable of getting over the obstacle of the existence of their copy. Finally, though, the corpse of Zachariah Shaw broke the impasse to scratch behind his ear.
“Um.”
The utterance that escaped from the ghost didn’t seem to help. The awkward problem of quite how one went about making conversation with oneself was a tad unsettling to both of them, albeit less so for the zombie. He seemed a lot more miffed that perplexed – three days dead had taken their toll and his approach to affairs was now a little different to his counterpart’s.
“There’s something nibbling on my small intestine. It feels kinda funny.”
Of all the ways the ice could have been broken, mused Zach’s ghost, it had to be something as inane as that. Admittedly, he could hardly fault it, but, well…
“That’s… that’s nice to know mate. Um…”
It occurred to him then that the next couple of hours were going to be very, very fun indeed.
Every word the Redeemer spoke pushed Zachariah’s heart further down into stomach; the weight of such an inconvenient and ineffable reality as the one he had had the great misfortune of having been thrust straight into was too much to bear without bending. The realisation he had fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book was another nail in the coffin; but of course, the eccentric he’d struck the deal with had no need to harm him. There were seven other people here who would be more than happy to do that (eight if one counted the being who was overseeing the engagement). Despite his lingering presence in the world of the living, Zach felt like he was at something of a disadvantage in this battle; after all, every other fighter here shared the exact same unusual characteristic.
There was no way that was the end of it, however; that peculiar choice of words, “bisecting his soul” and the appearance of his corpse beside him caused yet another pang of anxiety to manifest itself in what was once his brain. The connection was made to the odd wording of his saviour’s claim and something clicked. As the Redeemer revealed the twist to his participation in the battle, the ghost of Zach had just that moment twigged it.
His passion for the rational was being sorely tested. The innumerable impossibilities that had befallen him were mind-boggling and doubtlessly inexplicable. So he didn’t bother. What he did bother with, though, was trying to wrap his head around the existence of another him – it was a thought experiment incarnate, one that should never be played out in reality under normal circumstances, but here…
And yes, before him now was his ex-cadaver, rigor mortis now dispelled, staring him down with the same expression of sheer astonishment that he knew he too displayed. He could feel his jaw unhinging itself, almost exactly as the other half of himself let his do the same. What was he like? How similar was he, apart from, well, being notably more palpable?
For a moment or two, neither of the pair made any more movements; both were completely dumbfounded, incapable of getting over the obstacle of the existence of their copy. Finally, though, the corpse of Zachariah Shaw broke the impasse to scratch behind his ear.
“Um.”
The utterance that escaped from the ghost didn’t seem to help. The awkward problem of quite how one went about making conversation with oneself was a tad unsettling to both of them, albeit less so for the zombie. He seemed a lot more miffed that perplexed – three days dead had taken their toll and his approach to affairs was now a little different to his counterpart’s.
“There’s something nibbling on my small intestine. It feels kinda funny.”
Of all the ways the ice could have been broken, mused Zach’s ghost, it had to be something as inane as that. Admittedly, he could hardly fault it, but, well…
“That’s… that’s nice to know mate. Um…”
It occurred to him then that the next couple of hours were going to be very, very fun indeed.