Closed RP Seven

[HighVoltage]

Mari was dead.

This wasn’t a new experience for her. She had died multiple times before, and most likely would die multiple times after this. It wasn’t a novel experience, as nothing particularly exciting happens when you die. No, there was only one way Mari could truly describe the experience of dying.

Painful.

Now that wasn’t exactly the correct word to use, either. Seven letters couldn’t begin to convey the feeling of your skin cracking and peeling, your muscles snapping like frayed cable, your bones crumbling into ash, your very soul being seared as you feel every last part of you burning away in what could generously be described as a cleansing flame.

It was distilled agony, it was liquid pain, it was sheer absolute hell that stretched milliseconds into minutes and seconds into hours. There was no thinking, no planning, no waiting. Just an endless horizon that spanned all of sixty seconds.

To put it in Spork’s terms, it fucking sucked.

Mari’s first taste of consciousness was pressure against and under her. Not the cold tile that she’d fallen on when she died, but something warmer, softer, more human. That, combined with the sound of footsteps on pavement and the muttered string of curses growling through their voice filter, meant that Spork had found her body.

What Mari attempted to do was reassure them, let them know that she was okay, that they could set her down. She had forgotten that it took some time to fully regain control of her body, and that with the adrenaline drained from her system it would take even longer. So what crawled out of the helmeted figure in Spork’s arms was more akin to a death rattle from a robotic grim reaper.

“Sssssspuuuuuuuuuuuggggggggghhh.”

 

[Katpride]

“Holy shit!”

They drop her. Listen, it isn’t their best moment. But in Spork’s defense, there’s really no other reasonable reaction to hearing a terrible deathly gurgle emerge from their dead best friend’s throat. It startles them, and they just… let go.

They’re also kind of running, and that momentum doesn’t die easily, so they trip over Mari’s now ground-ridden body and catch a faceful of asphalt. Well, a mask-ful. But the mask grinding against their face is nearly as uncomfortable as shattering their nose on dirty, back-alley conck-crete, so that’s really not a win for them.

Also their best friend might be a zombie, so they should really deal with that.

“Please don’t be a zombie. But if you are, don’t bite me. No bite. Do not.” They blabber, doing an awkward sort of leg-elevated push up so that they can get their legs under them and out of the biting danger zone. Their mask is still frying their vocals, so the plea sounds much more threatening than they intend it to. “Oh my god, I’m gonna have to buy a muzzle. I know I always said I would, but do you know what kind of new and exciting lists they’re gonna put me on? Where am I even gonna keep you? My parents are gonna find the apartment sooner or later, and they’re definitely gonna notice your rotting corpse in the living room, Mari! Jesus.”

They might be freaking out a little. Okay, a lot. They don’t even know what to do with their hands, or their feet, or any part of their body really, so they just sit there with their heels to their ass, faltering and pulling their hand back at least three times before slowly reaching out a gauntleted finger to poke at Mari’s cheek.

 

[HighVoltage]

Whatever air had managed to make its way into her lungs was immediately forced back out as she hit the ground. She was stunned for a moment as head hit helmet hit concrete, and the scientific part of her brain that never truly went away made a mental note to add more padding into the helmets. Usually when she hit the ground she was already dead or dying, and doing it while still coming back made everything ten times worse.

That threshold jumped up to approximately twenty times worse as something large and utensil-shaped fell across her body. A low hiss escaped her as the last vestiges of breath were re-ejected from her. Just as she was getting used to the feeling of being crushed, the offending utensil had the nerve to squirm and push themselves off of her, kicking her side in the process.

Spork was yammering about her being a zombie. She’d never heard them this nervous before, and it would be laughable if Mari didn’t feel like she was suffocating. She took a moment to try to gather herself, regain feeling in her extremities, until she felt a hesitant poke against her cheek. Mari couldn’t help but laugh. Or at least, try to.

The laugh quickly devolved into a coughing fit, each sharp hack coming out growling and harsh through the voice filter. Tired of the thing, Mari dug her fingers under the rip and ripped the damned thing off, letting it slip from her fingers to clatter against the ground. She continued to cough, sucking in lungfuls of fresh air to replace the nitrogen Min’yo had forced into them.

Once the coughing fit subsided, Mari turned to look at her partner, eyes watering, chest hurting, strands of hair pulled free from where she kept it tucked up and pasted to her sweat-covered forehead. She cleared her throat, trying to make sure her voice worked this time.

“Hey.” She said cautiously, drawing out the word to ensure it didn’t come out as another death rattle.

 

[Katpride]

They draw their finger back when she makes another sound, a very manly squeak escaping their lips as they rock backwards. But the horrible hacking sounds just keep happening, and Spork is torn between trying to help somehow and not getting their face chewed off, dammit. God, they just had to be the hot blonde. Everyone knows those die first, and Spork has somehow landed themself in prime horror movie territory.

There’s a clatter and they skitter back even further, hands up in a defensive ward. But the coughing sounds instantly go from monstrous to asthma-attack, and, well, that’s Mari. Coughing like the first time she took a pull of their cigarette, or when they stayed out in the rain and both got pneumonia.

They wrestle their mask off, face-chewing be damned, and let it drop to the side. “Mari?”

God, they sound pathetic, but she sounds even worse, and they can fucking- they can regain their cool later. They dive for her, landing awkwardly on their hands and knees at her side and just sort of collapsing the rest of the way to smush their head into her chest. And, yeah, that’s her heart beating under their ear. Her breathing sounds fucking awful and ragged, but it isn’t nonexistent anymore.

“God fucking dammit, Mari,” they sob, turning their face into her stupid fucking uniform jacket. Their eyes sting, their nose already threatening to leak snot like there’s no tomorrow, and they sit up feeling like ten tons of soggy shit. “God… dammit.”

They reach out a hand and reconsider when their gauntlets clink. The gauntlets are made for violence, not a moment like this, and they tear at the fastenings with their teeth until they can pry a hand out. The gauntlet clatters to the ground loudly, but their fingers flutter over Mari’s sweaty cheek, cold and clammy and jittery, and come down too rough below her jaw, reconfirming what their ears had told them.

Fresh tears spring to their eyes, and for a long moment they can’t even think of anything to say. But the words crawl out of their throat at last, rough like all of their edges. “Miku said… it said you were dead. I don’t-”

They shake their head, the words drying up again as they reach for her hand.

 

[HighVoltage]

Spork scrambled out of the way like they’d just seen a ghost. Which, in a sense, she supposed they just did. Worry and fear were written on their face, and something in Mari’s chest tightened, causing her to break down into another hacking fit. Before she could draw enough air into her lungs, she was hit by a blonde freight train pressing their head against her chest. She didn’t protest the man-handling, primarily because she couldn’t spare the breath. Fingers roughly jabbed under her jaw, heavy gauntlets falling to the ground with a sound that made her wince.

Their words came out rough and ragged and, not for the first time, Mari wondered if she’d made the right decision. She feebly reached out and grabbed their hand, dragging herself up into more of a sitting position. A hand ran through her loose hair, pushing it up and back out of her face. Everything hurt, which was unfortunately a good sign. It meant that she could feel, that she was coming back properly. She didn’t know if she could come back wrong, and wasn’t eager to find out.

“Yeah, it did.” Mari began, voice hoarse and slightly trembling. Her throat was so dry it felt like it was coated in sandpaper, her every movement was jerky, her whole body was shaky. She took a moment to try and steel herself, to will herself to be still. This wouldn’t have been an easy conversation, especially under ideal circumstances. And well, considering what came next, these were certainly less than ideal.

“I can die.” She choked out a laugh that almost sounded like it wasn’t a cough. “That’s my power, Spork. I can die and come back.” Her tone was flat, matter-of-fact, not the way someone would react to finding out they suddenly can’t die, but someone to whom this was a routine occurrence, an uninteresting inconvenience.

“Fucking Min’yo…”

 

[Katpride]

They help her sit up mutely, rubbing her back like they vaguely remember her mom doing, god, ages and ages ago. Was that their first breakup or the first time they got caught smoking? Spork can’t even remember. All they remember is Mrs. Ito rubbing circles on their back and giving them a glass of water, promising not to tell their parents.

She’s a good sort. They should really call her sometime.

Mari’s talking again, but the words don’t register right away. When they do, Spork’s hand goes still, their brow furrowing. It’s a long moment before they speak again, the gears visibly turning in their mind. “What do you mean, ‘that’s your power’?”

They don’t let her answer, charging forward in the conversation with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. Their voice, tight and restrained at first, quickly raises in volume. “Because it sounds like you knew, and you didn’t tell me? You know the business we’re in, Mari, so don’t give me some shit about how it didn’t come up.”

They take their hand away from her back, hurt and anger warring on their face. Their nose is still runny, so they wipe it on the back of their hand, sniffing impatiently to clear it. “I thought we were partners, Mari. What the fuck? I thought you were dead! I thought I was gonna have to-” live in a world without her “-bury you, or, or, or something.”

They’re running out of steam, but if they don’t feed the anger they’re going to start crying again and they can’t even deal with that on top of everything.

“How could you?”