#battlestuck update

Dear Serenity,

Hey. By now you’re almost a high school student, or maybe you’re already one depending on when you get this letter. Either way, if you’re reading this, there is a really good chance that I’m not the one delivering it to you. This is because I died, and in all likelihood it was in pain and fear as my body was torn apart.

That sounds grotesque, but think about it- the majority of things to have lived on this planet have died like that, because they were killed by something else. Every animal you’ve ever eaten died like that, and they had to eat other living things to get to your plate. The clothes you wear, often enough, are animals too. I’m not trying to turn you into a vegan here, I’m just saying that things killing one another is the natural order on this planet. And that’s why, I think, we like it- how else would you explain things like hunting, or violent movies? Our species used to only survive by killing other things- we had to like it, because we did it all the time.

But I'm getting off topic. I’m dead- for a stupid, pointless reason. But again, that's true of most everyone. How many people really get to die for something they believe in? How many get to close their eyes and never open them again knowing they accomplished everything they wanted to, that their life followed some narrative arc where they tried to get something concrete and then they got it? Life’s about wanting things, I think- and when you get the thing you want, you want something else.

Like, I wanted to go on a school trip. I wanted an opportunity to spend time with my friends. I got that. Now I want to survive that trip!

...Damn, that was morbid. Sorry. I’m trying to use humor here because most of my friends died horribly, it’s just me and PM left. You remember PM, right? You met her once- she was the beautiful one. Oh, I mean WQ had a nicer face and body, but I’ve never met anyone with PM’s soul before. She’s so good and pure and kind- she reminds me a bit of you, only less of a brat (kidding!)

Anyways, I think I want her to win. I know what you’re thinking- “Will, you dumb jerk, your savior complex finally got you killed.” And that’s true, absolutely true! But I think it’s really important for me to go out so she can live.

Because while I’d like to consider myself a good person, I don’t have the stuff. I’m sensitive, you know how I am. All this stuff that’s happening, all these people dying for no reason... I’m not so good with it. It hurts really bad, like someone’s locked up in my chest and is smashing their way out. I don’t deserve to leave this island, I think, because I’m weak, and I’m nice. I don’t think any nice person should ever win this game, the pain and stress of what they had to do would eventually kill them. I think it’d be better to have one survivor than zero.

But I can’t root for the guy who killed my friends- he’s a huge dick. So then there’s PM. She’s kind, yes, but there’s a steel behind her. At her core is an unshakable will, one that can weather anything this game or this world could possibly throw at her. It’ll wound and bend her, but she’ll refuse to break. And maybe she’ll do some good in this world instead of wasting away and dying like I think I would.

I know that isn’t what you want to read. I’m your brother, after all, and you don’t want me to tell you that it’s good and right that I died. And, I mean, it isn’t- this game is an abomination. It’s one of the worst, cruelest things humans have ever done to one another, and I think history has proven that we’re very good at being cruel to one another. I think the people behind this game do it because they hate us- they hate living, they hate humans, they hate it all and they would kill us all if they had the stones for it.

And this game is like porn to them, I bet, because it’s all about stripping us down to what we hate about ourselves. Anyone who was ever afraid becomes a coward, anyone who was ever wavering becomes a traitor, anyone who was ever distant becomes a sociopath. I was so angry earlier that I wanted to kill someone- I wanted to hear his cries of pain because I knew they’d give me joy.

I don’t know what’s the angriest you’ve ever been, but I think that we all have a demon in our chests. He’s trapped most of the time, but this game draws him out. It feeds him our fear and rage and hate, and he grows bigger and stronger until he bursts his way free. That’s the only way to win this game is to let it run amok- to throw away all your love and goodness and replace it with hate and brutality. Some of us are strong enough to handle it longer than others, but I think eventually the demon would erode away anyone’s core.

In spite of it, I still think we’re good people. We might do cruel, evil, selfish things, but there’s no one in this world who is pure evil. Even Jack, the guy who is probably going to kill me, has a soft spot of some kind. Even the people behind this game have something- some moral or principle. That’s proof enough that the demon doesn’t win, never completely. I’m sure the lowest and worst people on the planet would like to prove that deep down everyone is just like them, but they keep failing. Game winners keep dying instead of becoming like them.

I think this cycle will have to be broken eventually. Somebody is going to come along. They’ll have to be pretty special, but nobody can do it on their own. Nobody is strong enough to beat this game by themselves, and that’s why it keeps persisting. By its very nature, it rips us apart and turns us against one another.

So it’ll take cooperation. It’ll take at least a few selfless people who are willing to sacrifice themselves for that somebody, and it’ll take at least a few selfish people who will have to be destroyed by that somebody. Because they’ll have to know cruelty and hatred and evil, they’ll have to sink to the very bottom of the pit so that they can come back up smiling. PM might be the one for that, but I doubt it. She only has me. Maybe she can help someone else.

But it’ll happen- that I don’t doubt. Humans are good, even if we’ve stopped acting like it, and the day is coming where we’ll prove it. We were unlucky to be born in such a horrible time, Serenity. I’m sorry that I have to leave you all by yourself in such a world, but I’m kinda low on options.

Don’t worry. One day we’ll all be good to each other again. It’s in our nature, and it’ll be the case again. I know it sounds like I’m boiling things down too much, but trust me. It really is that super simple.

Goodbye, William Valfrid Known to all as WV

You blink. “Rosey...”

“I love you, Roxy- you’re my family, and I have always regretted that we couldn’t live as such until it was too late.” Rose wipes the tears running down her left cheek. “And I am hurt, I am so very badly hurt. For a long time, I thought I was truly dead on the inside- that Rose Lalonde had been burned away and a new person had taken her place. But I felt a glimmer of my old self, Roxy, when I found this.”

She reaches into her dress and produces a sealed bag. Inside the bag is a bloody, moldy, torn letter. “By William Valfrid, addressed to his younger sister Serenity,” says Rose. “Passed by him to Penny Majors, who changed her name to Pandora Merriett. She, in turn, passed it to me. When I looked at it, I felt the distant stirrings of who I once was. I felt bitter sadness for Will and Penny and Serenity, and I felt rage at the forces that kept this trivial dying wish from fulfilling itself. That’s when I knew I had to seek you out, Roxy.”

Fuck. You’re crying too, and you look so gross when you cry. “W-why do you need me?” you ask through your hand, furiously wiping away tears.

“To keep me from forgetting. I wasn’t putting on a show, Roxy- that is who I am. That Woman and I share a body now, and she’s greedy.” Rose pounds on her chest. “I survive still, but I’m faint. If I didn’t have something to keep me going, I’d eventually fall so deep into the abyss that I would never be found again, and That Woman who you saw walk in would be all that I am.”

She puts a hand on your shoulder. “Everyone who knew me as I was before is dead except you- and you know how I feel, because you went through much the same thing. Around The Lord, or when I’m out on assignment to commit some atrocity, I must be That Woman. Around you and only you, Roxy, I will be myself. You’ll have to do the same thing- we’ll love and trust only one another. I know that you would never betray me.”

“And... how can you be so sure?” you whisper. “You wouldn’t be the first person who loved me that I betrayed.”

“Because my ultimate goal is to kill him,” she says back. “To kill the motherfucker who is behind all of this, and to dismantle his little Program and personally execute every person who made it possible. That’s the one thing I like about That Woman- she never tires of killing, she never lets it upset or scare her. So long as you anchor me, Roxy, I know I can do it. I can soak myself in the gore of my enemies and remain myself with the help of you... and some others.”

“...The other Program winners.” You put your hand on Rose’s, your bony fingers gripping her slender hand. “They’ll hate him as much as we do- you’ll be their symbol, Rose. Every one of us won The Program by killing our friends, and we hate ourselves for it- but we can still be redeemed. Rose, I think you’re gonna fucking save us all.”

“I will try my hardest,” she says, her mouth a soft smile. “I only have a few minutes left before I have to get back to him- do you have anything to drink?"

"Oh... yeah.” You stumble over to your bed and look under it. Two twelve ounce beer cans- cheap swill, but it’s all you’ve got. “Here, Rose,” you say as you hand her one.

She opens it. “To the Lalonde sisters,” she says. “We’ve been bent, but standing together, we will never be broken.”

You blink. Lalonde... sisters? Not cousins, sisters.

It’s been a long-ass time since you had a sister. “Fuck yeah,” you say, clinking cans with her. You both chug it down, and while normally this beer tastes like frothy piss, this particular can is one of the best you’ve ever tasted.

You and Rose down them in a hurry, and when she’s done, Rose puts a hand to her mouth. A squeaky hiccup escapes it. You look at her and chuckle. “Heh. Heheheheh. Hahahahaha!”

“Ha. Haha! Hahahahahaha!” She joins you in laughing, and before you know it, you’re both laughing so hard that you can’t stand without supporting one another. You haven’t laughed half this hard in over two years.

For a minute, that’s all you do. Laugh at everything, laugh at nothing. It’s all so silly and strange- what else could you do?

Eventually, the laughter dies down. “Eheheh... that's ten minutes,” says Rose. “I’ll tell him I gave you a week to think. In the meantime...” She hands you the letter. “You have the lower, heh, profile. Get this to Serenity, alright? She still lives at the address on the letter.”

“On my life,” you say. “I’ll see you around, Rose. I can’t wait to hang out with you.”

“Likewise. Good luck, Roxy. I have faith in you.” Rose backs away, still chuckling, and closes the door behind her. After a long moment, you look down at the letter.

The seal has been soaked away- you better check the letter is intact. You decide that you might as well open it, too, and make sure that three years and two sessions didn’t completely destroy it.

Rose asked you to do this, and you gotta do it right. She is your sister, after all. More importantly than that, she’s your motherfucking messiah- and you’ll do what she asks you to do. She needs you.

And you’ll be damned if you can’t protect her.

END OF THE EPILOGUE

“He killed our friends, Roxy.” Something is changing on Rose’s face. “All of them are dead because of Him and Him alone. The Empress didn’t even want to keep The Program going- she knew it pushed the Education Minister deeper into His hands, but she couldn’t do anything about His power play. Scratch was just His puppet, and it isn’t our classmates’ faults. Even if some of them would have grown up to be murderers, they wouldn’t have done it like that. All He did was stoke our hates and fears and doubts under a microscope until they consumed us. PM was consumed by her desire for vengeance, and once she killed Jack, she had to shift it to the next person. You’ve always regretted the way all your friends go out, so you slipped into drink and became the grotesque alcoholic who stands before me.”

“That’s rude as shit, and I’d get mad if it wasn’t completely true,” you say, a little too shocked to formulate anything better.

Rose continues. “This world is a black place because of people like Him. Somehow, somewhere, we went wrong. We let our society be ruled by whoever was capable of the greatest shows of cowardice, cruelty, and brutality. The whole world circles the abyss because we accepted these things as virtues.” She touches your forehead. “Coward.” She points to herself. “Cruel.” The machete on the floor. “Brute.”

“...Rose, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“He thinks He broke me,” says Rose. “He thinks He devised the formula. You to plant the seeds in my mind, PM to nurture and grow them, John to let them burst forth and envelop me. It’s a game to Him- ‘can I repeat what was done to me on someone else’? Can I utterly annihilate a human soul beyond repair?” Rose pauses. “The answer is no- because it’s impossible. A person cannot be hollowed out and replaced with someone or something else, not truly. Think back, Roxy, to everyone who died in either of our sessions. For a moment, even if it was incredibly brief, did they not return to the person they were instead of the person the island was trying to make them be?”

You think- Meenah screaming in rage over the death of her girlfriend, Damara pleading to be left alone like a scared schoolgirl, Calliope seizing control and reverting to her kind, polite self for just a few seconds... “Damn. You’re right.”

“My friend Jade- you never met her, but she was a wonderful person- tore a boy’s throat out with her teeth. Her hate and her fear and her rage overcame her and turned her into an animal instead of a kind, sweet, thoughtful girl. She died shortly afterwards- and her last moments were spent in a gesture of selfless love.” Something is creeping back into Rose’s eyes- a light. A flickering, weak one, but a light all the same. “Dave, the boy she died with, knew a part of him reveled in blood and chaos, so he died a defender instead of an aggressor. It happened like that over and over again in my session, if you go back and watch it. Equius Zahhak felt himself becoming a monstrous brute, so he died with as much civility as he could muster. Nepeta Leijon flat-out lost her mind, and even mad with pain, she still treasured her friendship with Equius more than anything. Gamzee Makara became a beast in human skin, and he died desperately trying to stop himself from hurting anyone else because he didn’t want to hurt anyone. Vriska died proclaiming that nothing could turn her into someone she wasn’t- she loved herself more than anything, but nothing would take what she loved from her.”

Rose’s voice is soft, but emotion has crept up in it. Something shiny forms in the corners of her eyes. “Terezi Pyrope, fearful of what she would have to do to stay alive, died in a moment of defiance instead of going quietly. Aradia Megido, who literally felt her personality be torn away from her, died smiling because she went out on her own terms.” The shiny things have welled up enough to be recognizable as tears- but Rose is smiling through them. “PM, who cared about nothing but delivering a letter as a promise to a friend, died protecting her friends after she failed to do it previously. John... John swore he’d die for a friend, and when he killed Vriska, he didn’t think he could ever forgive himself. He let me shoot him, Roxy, and at the time I thought he was sacrificing himself for me. But he was proving a point- that no matter what happens, no matter what principles are abandoned or compromised, no matter how badly it’s wounded and how long it’s left to atrophy, the soul cannot be killed. Not truly- it can be seriously wounded and even ripped apart, but all it takes to revive it is the right person.”

Rose flies forward like she was water, her sword flicking out for your face. You get the machete up in time and try to back pedal, but your leg sends a massive shockwave of pain through your body.

God damn it. You’re a good scrapper, but your shitty right wheel is going to make this difficult. And Rose is stupid fast- the sword is in five places by the time you can be in three, and it’s only through a lot of pain that you manage to keep dodging and parrying.

Thirty seconds into the fight and you’re already winded- too much booze and sleep has sabotaged your body. Rose, meanwhile, fights like she does it every day. She probably does. You’d like to say you give her a good fight, but that’d be horse shit. Rose is a weapon now, and you, you’re just some drunk bitch with a bad leg and a worse attitude. You go down fast- Rose lands a sharp kick to your bum knee and your weight collapses from under you.

You feel cold steel on the side of your neck. You shut your eyes. Guess that’s it, then. This is probably for the best- you lacked the stones to kill yourself, but you probably would’ve done it eventually. Only stubbornness kept you alive- you’ll be better off dead.

But still, even after all of this, you don’t want to die. You can’t defend yourself, and that leaves one thing.

“P-please, my lord,” you stutter. “Please don’t kill me. I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t want to piss you or anyone like you off, I just... I wanted to see Rose again. I’ve been good, I haven’t been causing any shit. You said I’m one of your daughters, let me prove it.”

“Prove it how?” asks the monster.

“Well... look at what Rose is now.” You glance up at her. “I dunno if I could ever be that badass, but... I’m not hopeless. I could be useful to you.”

“Yes. You could be.” He looks at Rose. “Stand down, my handmaid.”

Rose pulls her sword away and takes a step back, and you slowly draw to your feet. “I made traps,” you say. “And I’m... good with my tongue. Not in like a sex way- well, maybe, I dunno- but I can talk people into stuff. That’s useful, right?”

“It’s interesting you say that,” says the monster. “Tell her what you told me, Rose.”

“It is no use to have game winners die a few years after their victory,” says Rose flatly. “Thus I proposed a special unit of assassins for my lord comprised of game winners. Entrance is voluntary, but the living accommodations are very good and they would have a purpose that would keep them alive.”

You look at Rose up and down. That’s... that’s not a bad idea, actually. “Would I get a cute dress like that one?” you ask.

“You would,” says the monster.

“Well... I guess I can put a bit of thought into it.” You rub the back of your head. “I mean, I guess I am pretty good at killing. Wouldn’t have won my game if I sucked at it.”

“My lord,” says Rose suddenly, “Would it be possible for Miss Lalonde and myself to have some privacy? I believe that your presence is disturbing her, and I feel I may be able to convince her of what she stands to gain.”

He grins and nods. “I tend to do that. I’ll be in the car- ten minutes, Rose.”

“Of course, my lord. Thank you, my lord.” She bows her head low. The monster heads through the door, disappearing behind it. You hear his footsteps shake the floor as they distance themselves from the room.

You look at Rose. She's so different now. You hardly recognize the girl you once knew. “Damn,” you say. “You wear green really well, Rosey. Pity you went all cuckoo puffs.”

“I didn’t,” says Rose. “I simply saw the truth.”

“And that is?”

“That those who see other’s lives and love as currency will scramble to the top of this world, and to place trust in another is to leave your back open for them to stab it.” She stares at you. “Do you agree with that sentiment?”

You sigh. “I mean, I guess I do. Hard to go through a session and not be cynical like that. But that...” you aren’t comfortable calling it a man. “That thing you were with trusted you. He didn’t look worried that you’d turn that sword on him for even a second.”

“Correct. This is because my lord has taught me the danger of defying him, and the benefits I may reap if I cooperate with him. So I do. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, and killing Him now would compromise it- not to mention it would be enormously difficult to do. He hasn’t gotten to where He is by being easy to kill.”

“So that’s it, then,” you sigh. “You won’t ever show your back to anyone?”

“Not yet,” says Rose. “Not until that motherfucking son of a bitch shows me his.”

“What?”

She’s resplendent, wearing a beautiful green dress with a long slit running up the leg. The dress’ pattern is a shifting mass of black, like calligraphy decorating the fabric. On her belt is a thin rapier, sheathed with one hand on it. Her shoes are lime green flats, at once fine and quite practical. You catch a sight of her legs- firmly muscled and strong, decorated with scars and war wounds.

Rose has become a woman now- you can tell that without looking at her face.

Daringly, you glance up. Her right eye is gone, replaced with an eyepatch. Her hair is different, with the sides cut short and a green streak added to the rest.

Her face is emotionless. She looks like an exercise in drawing neutrality, not a person.

She says something. Her voice is flat and without anything resembling tone. “Excuse me.”

You take three steps back, more out of shock than anything. “Rose,” you breathe. “Goddamn, Rose. Goddamn.”

“She’s radiant, isn’t she?” says a whisper that makes you want to scream and hide. A giant ducks under the doorframe and narrowly fits his massive shoulders through it. He’s wearing a green coat, and his face is the face of Satan. “My handmaiden. She’s become a beautiful woman, hasn't she?”

Shakily, you nod. “Y-yeah. What can I say, being hot as fuck runs in Lalonde blood.”

Rose’s face doesn’t budge, but the monster chuckles. “As does ingenuity, it seems. You two are the first game winners to ever share a last name, and with Penny Majors, you are the first three consecutive female game winners. A pair of finds, you are- but you’re the silver medal, Roxy. Rose is gold.”

You look at Rose and her face is like winter. Cold and distant, with no traces of emotion. Hell, even you aren’t that soulless. “She has no mercy and no compunctions,” says the monster. “She will do anything I say. I could tell her to go the maternity ward of this hospital and kill every infant inside and she’d do it without blinking. I’ve never seen anything like it in one so young. Even I felt something vaguely like mercy until I was about twenty.” His hand goes to Rose’s chin, cupping her face. “Your cousin is a wonder, Roxy. The perfect killer. I’ve spent my entire life looking for one, and I finally found the right formula. I can’t wait to see if I can replicate it.”

You swallow, your fists clenching. “You... you big bastard,” you whisper. “You are such a fucking cum-guzzler, gushing about how badly you fucked her up. That ain’t Rose- cuz Rose had a stick shoved up her ass, and this girl has a lamppost up there instead. What, am I supposed to be impressed that you broke her down or whatever? Why would you even care what I think?”

“I don’t care,” says the monster. “But I do care what you do- you’re one of my daughters as well, Roxy, just a disappointing failure of a daughter. I love each Program winner like they were my own children- it pained me to gun down Penny Majors.”

So Rose didn’t kill her. But while the Rose who killed that Spencer Slick kid was a brutal hardass, she was nothing compared to the... thing standing before you. It happened in only about half an hour- but what? What on Earth was done to your baby cousin- what the fuck did your baby cousin do?

“Well, so-rree that I like to have a drink after work, dad,” you say, sniggering to hide your pants-shitting terror. “And before, and during. Maybe if you hadn’t killed all my friends, I’d have someone to hang out with so I wouldn’t be doing that.”

“Your friends killed themselves,” whispers the monster. “Dirk went to fight Caliborn, knowing he couldn’t win, to protect Jane. Jake went to hold off Damara, knowing he’d die, to protect you and Jane. Jane shot herself, knowing it’d kill her, to give you a better chance of winning. Calliope dropped her guard, knowing she’d die, to let you kill her. Each chose death, and you chose life. All I did was facilitate the choice. Rose... she made the same decision, didn’t you, dear?”

“Yes,” says Rose glassily. “There is not a soul on this planet I would not kill if it meant I would live. It’s why I won- it’s why PM won, and why you won, Miss Lalonde.”

“But Roxy, you erred,” says the monster. “You were in contact with a certain rebellious group not long ago, weren’t you?”

Your breath catches in your throat. “No, but I let some guy in a leather jacket I met in a bar plow me, if that counts.” You had wondered if physical satisfaction could lead to any sort of fulfillment. It was nice in the moment, but you didn’t feel any less empty- you felt sticky.

But you think you’re going to die in pain soon- the hungry look in the eyes of the monster tells you that. Any good memory, even meaningless pleasure like that, is worth recalling.

“Such a funny girl. Isn’t she funny, Rose?”

“Hilarious,” says Rose blankly. “Miss Lalonde, you were in contact with a rebellious group- one of their members offered to help you find me. He was intending to try to recruit you to their purposes, as this particular group has taken an interest in Program winners. Or, at least, they took an interest.” She looked down, something almost like a smile creeping at the corners of her mouth. “I personally executed their leader three days ago, and his entire family the day before that. He wept like a child at the sight of their bodies.”

“And in Rose’s successful deconstruction of this resistance group, your name came up.” The monster grins, showing off his massive and horrible yellow teeth. “You were looking for her, so here she is.”

He reaches into his coat and produces something- a machete. He skitters it across the ground and it ends at your feet. Almost instinctively, you snatch it and hold it up.

Rose draws her sword. “Rose,” says the monster, “Kill her.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Your name is Roxy Lalonde, and you’re in the fucking hospital again.

You hate it here. You hate the clean, sterile smell, you hate the patients with their dead expressions and the staff with their looks of pity whenever they lay eyes on you. Poor Roxy- all her friends are gone. Poor Roxy- she lives with nothing to live for but spite. Poor Roxy- an alcoholic at the age of fifteen.

They probably think you tried to kill yourself. You didn’t. You saw the car too late, you saw that it’d hit you if you didn’t leap out of the way. You didn’t leap.

It broke your arm and gave you some pretty nasty bruises on your back. Worse, your old leg wound was reopened and you damn near bled out. They’ve kept you for a while- you figure they probably feel sorry for you. They should give your room to someone who actually needs it, but they refuse to let you go until the bandage on your leg comes off.

As such, you’ve taken to flagrantly ignoring their commands. You pace around your room endlessly, you try to convince the nurses to sneak something boozy in for you, and you just generally make an annoying ass of yourself. You’d like to say it’s the withdrawal talking, but you know that you’re just a bad, unpleasant person. Ain’t no such thing as a good person- just evil people and stupid people.

You’re an evil person who surrounded herself with stupid people. That was a good call- they all died so you could live.

It’s been almost two years since your game, and everyone you’ve met since then has been sorted into one of the two categories. Your coworker at your shitty service job who skims profits is evil. Your boss who refuses to notice is stupid. That’s the way this world works- evil people take advantage of stupid ones. The closest thing to a good deed that exists on this planet is when an evil person shows a stupid one that they’re stupid.

You tried to do that for Rose, a little. Your little cousin was an enigma- she had such an impressive outer shell that you thought she might be one of the bad ones, but she also seemed to really care and love some people. What you wanted to tell her was that she should love no one but herself- but that would’ve been too bitter a pill to swallow. You wanted to ease her into it.

You guess you did a good job, because she won. In kinda confusing circumstances, but she did it. One minute, Rose and her allies are fighting some guys and kill them all. Then the camera went black, and a news anchor came on. He politely told everyone that there was a feed glitch- everything that happened during a twenty minute or so stretch was lost forever. That included the finale of the session itself.

When the feed cut back, it was Rose standing in front of a small sea of journalists. She looked far worse for wear than she did before things went black- her face was bruised and swollen and she looked barely capable of standing. The damage done to the right side of her face made it clear that her eye was gone.

But there was something weird in her one remaining eye. You looked into it and you saw an abyss. Any energy, any vivaciousness, any life in Rose had been squeezed from her. She was gone.

When she spoke, her voice sounded like she was so exhausted she couldn’t even muster up the energy for inflection. “I shot PM. Then I shot John. Then I won.” The press barraged her with more questions, but one of the soldiers shooed Rose away. She got in a helicopter, and the cameras followed her as she flew from the island. For just a moment, for a short enough amount of time that most wouldn’t have even noticed him, you saw a hand much too massive to belong to a human being reach out of the copter. Rose took it, and something about that made you incredibly afraid. You wanted to find her, but damned if that wasn’t difficult. All your efforts were stopped stone cold, and the best you had to go on was the scant interviews she did with the press after her game. The answers she gave sounded completely fabricated, like they were being fed to her.

When you had been asked to do a similar interview, you took the glass of water they gave you and spat it at the reporter. “Hellcat Roxy”, they had spun you, but the people quickly got bored with a girl who refused to talk to them. They got bored with Rose for the same reason- she had nothing new to say about The Program, and considering that the climactic moment of her session was lost, it was hard to care. It was another two, a lanky blond boy and a bespectacled brunette, who captured the attention of the Empire. You’ve seen a lot of girls your age wearing shirts with those two on them.

It’s been total radio silence from your little cousin since then. Her mother hasn’t seen her even once- you feel kinda bad for the poor woman. She offered to adopt you, but you turned her down. There was nothing there for either of you.

You haven’t stopped trying to find Rose, though. You even did your best to get in touch with a resistance group, figuring they would be the people to know sensitive information like that, but something strange had happened- you couldn’t find any. You had once met an older man who had introduced himself as a resistance leader and told you that he and his friends liked to support Program winners. He said he worked with Pandora Merriett, even, and he told you he’d find Rose for you.

He disappeared after that. You never heard from him or any of his buddies again.

It’s possible Rose is just dead, but you don’t think she is. The way she took that giant’s hand... it was the way a person who had been treading water for days would grab onto a life preserver. She lived for that hand. She loved that hand.

The mystery is the other thing you live for, aside from spite, from being a blemish and a bother to the glorious Empire. Where’s Rose? What’s she doing? Will you ever see her again? You see no way to answer these questions, but you can’t stop asking them.

There’s a knock at your door. That’s weird- the nurses and doctors just barge in, normally. You get up. “I’m not wearing any pants or underwear,” you grumble. “Don’t get upset if I flash you by accident and you go to prison.” You stagger over to the door and open it. Rose is standing there.

Holy fuck.

Something heavy falls onto your shoulders. Hands. Two massive hands engulfing you. “So, Rose,” says The Lord. “What have we learned?”

You don’t make a noise. “Surely you learned something... that was the point of all this," he says. "To teach a lesson to one child at the expense of twenty-nine others. That’s how much the lesson is worth.” His fingers dig into your skin. “What did you learn, Rose?”

“I... I learned...” You shut your eyes once more. “I learned that this world is a rotten, evil place.”

“Good. What else?”

“It’s like that because of people like you.” You look down. “And people like me. Selfish, cruel people. People who love nothing but themselves. We’re the majority. Most humans are like that.”

“What about him?” asks The Lord. You hazard a look at John’s corpse. He has a small smile on his face-  were it not for the hole in his chest, he'd look almost like he's asleep. “He sacrificed himself for you.”

“Because... we’re not all selfish. But we’d be better off if we were.” You look at John through your one good eye. “Some of us are kind and good- and they die. They get used and tossed aside by the selfish people. John loved me enough to die for me- and I killed him because I loved myself too much to die for him.”

“What about the others?” he asks you. “What about Dave and Jade?”

“Dave... knew he was selfish, but he tried not to be. He always tried to be good. Jade was unselfish. That’s why they died. One of them would be here if they had just betrayed one another when it was the smart thing to do.”

“And Pandora?”

You look over at her corpse. “She hated herself so much for what she did- because she was selfish too. She knew she was, and she wanted to die because of it. She could never swallow what a hateful, wretched creature she was. She fought it to her last breath.”

“Mmm. Vriska?”

“Selfish- but proud, and stupid. She showed an inkling of kindness, just a tiny amount, and it cost her her life. She should have shot PM right away.”

“And you beat them all,” says The Lord. “You beat every last one of them.”

“Because I was the most selfish of them all,” you say, laughing a bit. “Slick loved his brothers. Terezi loved her honor. Karkat loved his friends. Simone loved this romantic notion of herself. Gamzee hated himself. Of all of them, I was the only one to love nothing but myself, the ugly, vile, grotesque thing that I am.” You touch your face. It’s sticky with blood. “Is that why you won?”

“Yes. The winner is the most self-loving of all the players. It is not enough to kill your fellow classmate- you must take advantage of them, too.” The Lord chuckles. “Make alliances. Break bread. Feel their love wash over you and protect you from harm. And then, when they love you so powerfully that they can’t imagine you harming them, kill them. Betray them, cut them down like animals.”

You nod. “And that’s the difference between John and myself. He sacrificed for me- he threw himself on top of me when that grenade went off. He killed Vriska to keep me safe. He took the bullet for me. I only protected him from harm because keeping him alive was convenient for me. I pretended to love him, and I fooled even myself into thinking it. But I never did. He was something to soak up bullets for me, and to be dispensed of when it was convenient.”

There’s a long moment of silence before The Lord speaks again. “Do you like hurting people, Rose?”

“Yes.”

“Killing them?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because they aren’t me. Because to kill them is to affirm that I am alive, and that I am better than they were.” You look at your sword. “I think that it will be the only thing that can possibly bring me joy now. Like PM- she seemed so happy sinking a machete into people’s necks. Every smile I ever saw her make outside of that was a facade.”

“There are other things,” says The Lord. “But they all stem from the same root. The only true happiness in this world is to be more powerful than someone else.”

“Yes. You are right.” You understand. You understand everything now so clearly.

"Lesson complete,” says The Lord. He pulls, and you come to your feet. He turns you to face him. There’s no fear anymore- you look at him and see nothing but yourself.

“What now?” you ask.

“I have a job offer for you.” His hand goes to your cheek and wipes away a mix of blood and tears. You’ve stopped crying. “I spent my life after my Program slowly rising through the ranks of the Empire. My official position is ‘Minister of Imperial Affairs’- aside from the Empress herself, I was the most powerful man in the Empire. That qualifier no longer applies.”

“Why not?”

“I have spent the last decade of my life assassinating Imperial heirs. You had one in your class- Feferi Peixes. My plan was to force The Empress to place an heiress of my choosing on the throne once she died.” The Lord grins, showing you his teeth once more. “Yesterday, I confronted The Empress during a meeting of her inner circle. I killed all those who were not loyal to me and turned her into my puppet. She is too old to bear children- the Peixes line ends with her. However, there was a... snag.”

“Scratch said there was only one other game winner besides you who understood The Lesson,” you say. “And they were dead. Was she your choice for the next Empress?”

“Yes. You’re a sharp one- I’m glad it was you who survived. I am sixty years old, and I will not be here forever. The Empress, in a final act of defiance, killed my chosen heiress. I had educated her, molded her into an instrument of my will.” The Lord’s smile is almost paternal. “You may take her place. I will teach you. You will kill my enemies, you will enforce my will, and one day you will sit the throne of The Empire. When I die, I will do so having left the world in the most capable hands that I can leave them in.”

You stare into his eyes. They’re green. “I would kill people on this job.”

“Many. Children in front of their mothers and mothers in front of their children.”

“And I would torture people.”

“You’d show cruelty that most would not think a human is possible of.”

You think for a moment. “Do I have any other choices?”

“Of course. You can go home and try to adjust to a new life in a new city.”

“No,” you say. “I can never go home.”

“Then kneel.” You do. “I hereby anoint you, Rose Lalonde, winner of the 44th Program, as my new Handmaid. You will serve me faithfully until the day one of us dies. Do you accept?”

“I do. I am your instrument from this moment forth.” You bow your head. “My Lord, may I have a bath and a change of clothes? I’ve been wearing these since the morning I left for my class trip. I would like to burn them.”

“Of course, my Handmaid.” He offers you his hand, and you take it. The two of you head to the door together. “You can have whatever you want.”

“Thank you, my lord," you say. "One other thing- I don’t know your name. What shall I call you, my lord?”

“English,” he says. “You will refer to me as Lord English.”

END OF CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

END OF ACT THREE

You stare at The Lord for a long moment. There are no words in your throat. Kill John. Die. Kill John. Die.

Again, John beats you to speaking. “You’re lying. We killed your men, we killed Scratch, we fucked up your precious game. We’ll both die in here, you’re just trying to screw with us.”

“No. I am not.” The Lord’s dismissal is flat and simple, but you don’t doubt it for a moment. “I don’t care how many of my men you kill. Every game must have a winner. There has never been one that didn’t, and this will not be the first.”

You think for a moment. “There are no winners in this game,” you say. “And your plan has a flaw. If one of us gets that gun, what’s to stop us from putting the round into your head?”

“Nothing,” says The Lord. “Only this- if you shoot anything but one of the two of you, then my men will gun you both down. Kill the other, kill yourself, or kill me and both of you. Those are your choices.”

Ordinarily, your mind would be bursting with a way out of this. A loophole, an opening, a manipulation of some sort that wouldn’t make it be this way. The only way you can live is to kill John. The only way for you to save John is to die. He faces the same dilemma.

You don’t want to die. You still need to see Roxy, and your mom. You still have to go to college and get a degree and publish a novel and climb a mountain and have sex and have a family and rescue cats and talk to your estranged father. Rose Lalonde can’t end at fifteen. She just can’t.

You don’t want to kill John, either. He’s protected you, he’s stood by you. He’s saved your skin repeatedly. You don’t think you’re capable of pure altruism, but John might be- he is willing to sacrifice everything for you. It’s because you’re his friend. There’s always that element of falseness and superficiality to friendship that you are quietly aware of, but in the case of John no such thing exists. He has lost everything but you and has dedicated himself to you as a result. To hurt him would be a betrayal of the highest order- you can think of no worse act.

The choice is not you or John. The choice is between your life or your soul. Die with an ounce of dignity or live as a broken, friendless animal who has no place in this world. Rose Lalonde has struggled and clawed so hard, but she ends in this room. The only question is whether or not her body walks out or is dragged out.

You look at John. He’s crying. Heavy tears run down his cheeks, mixing with the blood and dirt. You try to say something to him, but no words come. You are out of things to say.

The Lord steps aside. “Three. Two. One. Go.”

The two of you scramble for the gun at the same time.

Your legs are longer, but John is more conditioned to running and his injuries are somewhat less extensive than yours. He manages to eke out a slight advantage as the two of you move forward side by side. He’s going to beat you to the gun- you realize this too late to do anything about it.

He’s less than half a step in front of you when he reaches down for it. His hand trembles, and he hesitates to take it for just a moment. You take the opportunity to kick out at his leg- the back of the knee, where you struck him with a stick two days ago. It feels like two centuries ago, but you remember.

John grunts and stumbles to the side, and you overtake him. Your fingers close around the gun’s handle and you bring it up, pointing it at John.

He straightens up and the two of you make eye contact. For one second, the rest of the world fades away. The pain in your wrist and eye and back and ribs, which was so intense just a moment ago, disappears. The soldiers and The Lord blur into muted colors as you and John stand in an infinite oblivion.

You and John just stand there for what feels like a full hour. Your hands are shaking. They’re trembling like you were naked in the Arctic, and your one good eye is blurred. Tears. You involuntarily let out a noise from your mouth- a sob.

“It hurts,” you whisper. “It hurts so goddamn much, John. Make it stop.”

“It’ll stop,” he says. “I promise you that it’ll stop.”

“It won’t. It never stopped from PM. I don’t- I don’t know if I can take it. I want to die.”

“Do you?” asks John. He cocks his head. “Do you really want to die?”

There’s another long silence. The next word to come out of your mouth is a single syllable- but it feels like you’re trying to fit a lump of coal through a straw coming out. You don’t know where you draw the energy to say it

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. You want to live- you always will. You won’t let anyone take that from you.” John starts to walk towards you. You hold still as his hands clasps the barrel. Maybe he’ll rip the gun from you.

No. He presses it to his chest instead.

Down the gunmetal, up your arms, you can feel his heartbeat. The barrel’s directly over it.

“It’s a little different from the gun you’re used to,” says John. “Ronald’s gun. It was a single action. This is a double action. I even forgot how to use it earlier. But you remember, don’t you?” He leans in and smiles.His hand comes to rest against your trembling arm, steadying the barrel.

Another sob escapes you.

"Come on Rose," John says. "You remember, don’t you? It’s super simple."

You nod. “I remember. Cock the hammer, pull the trigger.”

You cock the hammer back, and it clicks in place. You shut your eyes.

You pull the trigger.

There is a roar that shakes your entire body. John’s hands leave yours. His body hits the floor. There is a hole where his heart once was.

You drop the gun and fall to your knees. Your good eye opens and you stare straight ahead. You don’t look at John. You don’t look at PM, whose corpse now lies soaked in her own blood. You don’t look at The Lord or the soldiers or the body of Scratch.

You stare at the wall. You are crying, but you make no noise. You think nothing, you feel nothing.

You are dead. There is nothing left of you anymore.