Chapter Text
$24,968. You stare at the counter, heart racing, a wide grin on your face. You’re almost there, you realize.
Part of you had almost forgotten what you were even doing here. The rush of power that started out as a trickle when you bought the needle had only grown as the tools became weapons, and the numbers began climbing exponentially. The smell of burning flesh and fresh blood on the grass is unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Clutching a lit match in your hand, you feel alive.
And..now, you were almost done. Just one more press of the match, one more burn, and you would be done. Operation all paid for, in a single afternoon. And not a bad afternoon either. The blood splattered on your hands is starting to dry and itch a little, and you certainly learned a lot about yourself, but definitely not a bad afternoon.
It’s been fun, really. Trying out the stuff in the shop, making easy money, seeing a grown man cry. It probably doesn’t say good things about you, but would anyone really do anything different? You think the really twisted person is Harvey himself.
There he is, just standing there through all this, looking half-dead by this point. There’s angry red burns framing his pale face, a black void where a shiny white tooth used to be, and a river of blood cascading down one side from the eye you gouged out- hey, you had to try it! Honestly, you think it should’ve netted you more than $16, but whatever.
Ah, well, it’s almost over. You could go home, tell yourself that this doesn’t say anything about you, and probably spend the rest of your life trying to recapture this feeling in a normal, law-abiding way.
Except.. it occurs to you, quite suddenly, that he’s seen your face. Your car. Maybe even your license plate, if he’s smart. Which, considering the situation you were both in, seems unlikely but is still entirely possible. You look at the shop for help. And then you see it, right beside a knife you don’t need.
A gun. It’s perfect...pretty convenient. Between this and finding the booth, you’re on one hell of a lucky streak. If it weren’t for that serious diagnosis earlier, you might even be thinking about buying a lottery ticket after all this. You purchase the gun.
You point it at him, try to level the barrel with his head. You’ve never shot anyone before, but, hey, in for a penny, in for a pound, right?
“You.. wouldn’t.” He stares, wide-eyed.
He’s leaning on the booth, probably needing it to hold him up at this point. He’s shaking, honest-to-god full body shaking. Even his lips when he speaks, you think. You can’t help smiling- you didn’t even know that was possible. All the while the most innocent blue eyes you’ve ever seen stare up at you, pleading, tinged red from all the tears.
What a waste. You click the safety off, and you aim. You have to do this. Undeniably. But, even after everything, you’re still a little surprised you’re going to kill someone for $25- Wait, how much was the gun?
You look at the counter. $4,968. Oh. That’s not.. going to work.
You must be visibly frustrated, because Harvey follows your line of vision. A flash of inspiration comes across his face. “Here it is! Like I said earlier- all the money in the booth. Now, please, just.. go away, and leave me alone..”
$99,999. It’s more money than you’ve ever seen in one place. You turn back to him. There’s real, genuine hope in his eyes again. It makes sense. You got what you wanted, didn’t you? All that’s left is to shoot him and be on your way…
You look into that soft hopeful face, and you can’t. You’re just not ready for the game to be over.
So, without really thinking it through, you reach forward. Expecting the flinch, you move quickly. Nimble fingers dig into his cotton candy pink hair, grabbing a large handful. He’s big, strong too, but blood loss and prolonged agony give you the advantage. Using your grip on his hair, you bash his head into the surprisingly well-constructed wooden booth once! Twice! Three times! Until he finally stops moving.
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When Harvey wakes up, he’s laying on something hard. Disoriented, he tries to sit up. It feels like his chest is burning, and his arms ache with the effort of pushing him upright. It hurts so badly he can’t breathe- he gives up after only a few seconds. He’s already sweating from the exertion.
Where is he? It’s hot. Suffocating. The whole world is rocking around him. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep. But as he tries to open his eyes, the world goes white. He doesn’t know what’s going on, or where he is. Nothing is coming through but blinding pain and please, if possible, he’d really prefer to be unconscious again..
“Hey, try not to move too much,” a voice calls out.
Who..?
Everything comes flooding back, and he immediately jerks his body as far away from them as he can, back hitting against something metal in his scramble to get away. The pain is rather quickly forgotten in favor of the need to get away. His heart is racing, beating so loudly he can hear it in his ears. His eye- only one now, he remembers- flies open and he stares at them in horror. Oh, god, what are they doing now?
After a moment, he’s finally got enough of his bearings to realize he’s not at his booth anymore. He’s in a car. The back of a van. White metal walls surround him on every side, stark and oppressive. The person with the operation, the person who hurt him- the player, they’re up in the front seat. It’s then his sluggish brain finally realizes that he can barely move. Harvey looks at himself and sees that his wrists and ankles are tied together with tight zip-ties. He stares at them, confused. What’s.. happening?
As if sensing his confusion, they speak up again. “Yeah, I had to fix my front bumper a while back. I guess Zip-Ties are pretty versatile.”
Harvey is going to respond, but there’s too much blood in his mouth. He leans over to spit it out, but, funny enough, he can’t bring himself to be so rude. He swallows, wincing at the metallic taste. Leaning his head against the door, he gives himself a quick once over. His vision is blurred and halved, and he can’t make out much but lots of red. That.. can’t be good, can it? He whimpers quietly.
It’s hard to think through the pain, but he knows he needs to try. His head feels like lead, and it keeps lolling to the side as he tries to concentrate. What are they doing? Why did they take him?
He blinks, trying to keep himself awake. He gave them all the money. That’s probably gonna be bad later, he thinks, but it’s also good because it means they’re done with him. They have to be. He gave them what they wanted. His eye is heavy, and it’s getting harder to keep it open. It’ll be over now because there’s no reason to hurt him anymore..
His eye opens yet again as the van’s back doors swing open and he nearly falls out. Bright sunlight assaults his vision, worsening the pounding in his head. He must’ve dozed off for a moment. A pair of horribly familiar hands catch him and turn him around so he’s sitting in the van and facing outward. It’s high enough off the ground that his legs are hanging off the edge. Now face-to-face with them once again, they look strangely nervous. At least that terrifying grin is gone.
“Okay. So.” They purse their lips. “Here’s the deal. You want to live.”
He looks at them. Then he looks around, hoping there will be someone around to help him. But they’ve picked a lonely little parking lot to chat with him in. The only sign of life is a freeway far off to the side. It’s so loud. Hurts his head. But it gives him an idea- his legs aren’t injured. Maybe if he ran that way he could—
He doesn’t see the hit, but he feels it. The cold metallic end of a gun smashes into the side of his face, likely hard enough to add a new bruise atop the ones the hammer had left. He yelps and holds his face, eye immediately snapping back to the person who’s hit him.
“I’m trying to give you an out here.” They point the gun back at his head. “So maybe pay attention?”
He shrinks back into the van a little. He doesn’t understand what they’re saying. “Please let me go. I-“
“Yeah, okay.” They shrug a little bit. He gasps, before they continue. “That seems fair enough. But, uh. Here’s the thing. We need to cross state lines first. Give me a little time to figure out my next move before I’m wanted. Fair, right?”
No, not fair at all. But, a thick curtain of relief falls over him anyway. He’s going to go home after this nightmare. To hold his family again and feel safe again. It has to be possible. He rubs his freshly aching cheek with his bound hands and asks softly, “You’re not going to hurt me again, then, right..? Seeing as how you’ve got all the money now.” He pauses, then adds a nervous smile for good measure.
They smile back. It’s all teeth. “That would make sense, wouldn’t it?” They falter their grip on the gun a little and rub their neck. “Look. Uh. We’re gonna go rent a motel room for the day. And this probably goes without saying, but if you get us in trouble at all, I am gonna have to shoot you.”
As he nods his head, the pain seems to rapidly worsen. Whatever shock was keeping him upright must be starting to wear off now that he knows he’s not going to die. The pain begins to bleed into agony, drowning out most of his surroundings. His exposed eye socket is the blinding beacon of pain amongst a general sea of it, and the sensation of open air hitting it is almost enough to make him sick. He can’t even identify where all of the pain is coming from yet, too focused on just keeping his head up.
The burns on his shoulders and back are irritated as the player tosses an old blanket around him. They tuck it over his head and around his shoulders, covering up most of the visible signs of damage. His wrists and ankles are cut loose, and he wants to try running but that idea is stopped cold as he catches sight of the gun in their pocket.
Suddenly more tired than he can ever remember being, including the time in which he had an infant, he accidentally lets his head droop onto their shoulder. They stop tucking the blanket around him.
“Oh.” They stiffen for a moment, before allowing it. “Good idea. Just lean on me, let me do the talking. And keep your head down.” They blink and look him over. “You really were the most conspicuous person on the planet before we even started playing.”
He isn’t sure if that’s an insult or not but he’s not really conscious enough to tell. They take a moment to grab a backpack from their front seat before coming back and standing in front of him. They sling his arm around their shoulder and pull him out of the van. The two of them nearly go down due to his added weight. But, they manage to retain their footing, and narrowly avoid crashing into the pavement.
“Forgot how heavy you are..” they mumble.
Together, they stumble through the motel’s front doors.