Characters in this post
View character profile for: Dillon Forst
View character profile for: Howard Pauling
View character profile for: The Zen Garden
View character profile for: Isaac
Red vs. Blue
Dillon took just a moment to think and catch his breath. What would he need the gun for now anyway? He slowly flicked the safety back on and shakily lowered the heavy gun to the ground.
"He... He just... I don't know what's going on..." It took effort to hold much volume. He intentionally put his back to the wall again, tightly holding his arms.
The him on the bed put some more distance between them too, but moved closer to Pauling's side of the room. "He was attacking me, Pauling! Don't trust him!"
"Wha- then why am I the one over here!" he reasoned. "You started this!"
He tried to think. He had to think things out fast, or things could go even further south fast. He had no idea what this thing's real intentions were and he was still severly shaken. Why was the floor wet? He glanced down to find the slate tile he'd never wanted to see in his life again. He grimaced at it and did his best to forget about it. Were they related at all? The tile was in his dream... As was his father, and now... But this wasn't his father. Had it still come from the dream? Why was it here? He didn't bother with "how".
He reached into his pocket and drew out two bandanas, one red and one blue. "If... If we're going to remotely try to... Calm down and... And make sense of things and... And trust... us? Everybody is going to need to be able to tell us apart... Which one do you want?"
The other him stared at the bandanas distrustingly. What was he going to do? Refuse the idea? Keep trying to be defensive? Leave? Attack?
"Why'd you pick red and blue if we like blue and whoever gets red is going to be seen as the bad one?" the other him asked.
"That's why I'm letting you pick! We can't both be blue, it would defeat the-" He shook his head with a frustrated groan and returned both to his pocket, pulling them out again as purple and green.
The other him considered the colors suspiciously. "Purple," he requested.
Dillon tossed it over and tied the green one around his own neck. "There..." he said, his body still quivering. "Are you going to keep attacking me?"
The other him glared. "Are you?"
Dillon looked back at Pauling with a pleading look, completely lost on what else to do. He was still absolutely scared of it all. He tried to will the wet tile to return to dry hardwood. His face was still wet with tears and they might've still been flowing.