( KILL LOG - WEEK 4, SETO )

[abhoth]

[It's past curfew. The sun hands lazily over the horizon — always present, always watching. There is a chill in the air, cold enough to send shivers down your spine while numbing your fingertips.

Though Kaiba definitely remembers heading to his room on time, he will suddenly find himself standing in the middle of the Parking Lot. There is (presumably) no one around at this hour, all current survivors adhering to the curfew established in the rulebook.

So, what now?]

Comments

[crushcard]

[ No.

Because if there's a way to fight the magic of this realm, magic that has somehow made him leave his room after curfew, you can bet for sure as hell that he's going to be fighting it every step of the way. Trying to alert someone to the fact that he's leaving the room by slamming it shut as loudly as possible, although with how deeply asleep Chie is, he's not surprised if no one can hear him.

As it is, now he can't leave the Parking Lot, no matter how much he tries to.

There's an overwhelming sense of dread that follows, bile that rises up in his throat when the grim reality sets in.

He's not a fool. He knows how this will end, knows how this will play out thanks to the rules of the motel.

But hell if he's not going to go down without a fight. ]

Show yourself! [ Seto snarls; there's rage undercutting his words. He knows whoever is killing him has to be around somewhere. ]

[disinterested]

[All's fair in love and war, and Girge's a soldier through and through, so sorry, Seto, but he's not going to honourably show himself. If anything, this is really one of the dirtier ways to kill someone, but it is what it is. (Boring, but he isn't here to have fun.)

Positioned at the second floor of the motel, he aims his rifle. What a coincidence it is that Seto would be his target—both his choice but not quite, either. It's nothing personal; it rarely is with Girge.

... Ah, that's right. Seto was the one with some kind of issue with being a ritual sacrifice, didn't he? How unfortunate for him that that's to be his fate, here and now.

Girge fires.]

[crushcard]

[ As muted as it is, he can and will recognise the sound of a rifle being fired (that's what happens when you've been working in a weapons development company for the better part of one's life) and it's only sheer reflexes that causes Seto to throw his arm over his eyes, just barely in time for the bullet to ricochet off his wrist guards.

He's alive.

There's white-hot searing pain in his left wrist, even if the bullet didn't pierce through flesh it's definitely injured, and Seto stumbles backwards, drops to one knee, grimacing in pain.

Above. It came from above.

Seto growls a curse out underneath his breath. He can make out a figure on the second floor of the motel, just barely. ]

[disinterested]

[When Seto blocks the bullet, Girge lets out a low whistle. Under different circumstances, he thinks idly, he might've liked to have a proper fight with him.

But he won't waste time with being impressed or with what-ifs. Taking advantage of Seto's current state, he adjusts his aim (and how strange it is, to pull a trigger instead of feeling the magic at his fingertips, the weight of the rifle slightly different from what he's used to—but with a weapon in hand like this, he's in his element). Promptly, he fires another shot at Seto's head.

Disappear.]

[crushcard]

[ He would have given you a proper fight if you had actually bothered to fight him, coward.

This isn't the first time that he's faced death in the face. With his head held high, even, his gaze narrowed with something akin to sheer hatred and focused on the figure on the second floor of the motel.

It's probably a mistake to look up, when he has a rifle aimed directly at him, but Seto Kaiba is stubborn to the last, stubborn to his dying moments.

He can't help them anymore. He can't help them stop this farce of a ritual anymore, and that's his last coherent thought.

The bullet pierces through the middle of his forehead.

It hurts. He's vaguely aware of blood, warm and sticky and the sensation of falling.

Then, darkness.

Seto Kaiba is dead. ]

[disinterested]

[Girge smiles. As pointless as it was, he can respect Seto's will to have some dignity in the face of death; to stand tall and meet his fate head-on. (It makes a part of him regret being in this place, living through tedium again when he had few regrets about the way his own life ended.)

Taking his supplies with him, he moves onto the lobby, where he leaves them for now. First is transferring Seto's corpse.

With that done, he strips Seto of his coat, wondering in the back of his mind what he's going to do with it—ah, well, he'll just have to hide it for now. After tossing it to the side, he retrieves his handgun. A few shots to Seto's person; then, one at the wall.

He rolls Seto's bloodied corpse onto its front, before picking up the rifle again. Corpse desecration isn't quite his thing—death in a Golem is ugly enough without extra effort—but no point in half-assing things now, if he doesn't want to get caught.

And so, he swings the rifle down at Seto's head.

... Yeah, it's not half as entertaining bashing things in as when inside a Golem. Thankfully, it doesn't much to mess up Seto's head, and it's more of a precaution than anything else.

Now, for the finale. Wrinkling his nose slightly at the smell, he sloshes lighter fluid over Seto's body.

Then, he drops the match.]