The Dice | Solstice Roleplay

The Dice

hellp

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Oct 29, 2018
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Under the crimson glow of a red dwarf, a purple Novakid walks across an infinite desert of creme-coloured sand. The sky is red, and his simple triangular brand reflects a glow reminiscent of a candle's dying flame.

The sky is red, and the clouds black. The Novakid, named Zon, is a bounty hunter, on the hunt for a distress call, that he may have linked to a serial killer. Another Novakid, on a killing spree from world to world.
Zon, a bounty hunter... He wishes he deserved that title. He's a failure, and he knows it. Can't prevent crime from happening, always a step behind death. Always the first to see the victims, unable to catch his prey. Unable to make a living for himself, unable to mend his broken conscience.
As he walks across the desert, the sand grains so thin his footsteps slowly disappear behind him, he finally sees the crashed ship, laid against a tall dune. The sand around it is covered in debris of various size and past utility, and the colour theme of it all seems to indicate the ship was a small human-made shuttle.
The closer he walks to it, the more interference his radio gets. He's used to the phenomenon; somehow, every time he approaches a place where the killer has struck, he eventually completely loses contact with police forces. Probably a disruption device. Zon sends a final update on his status to the officers of Attrias System, and cuts contact.
He reaches the dune closest to the wreckage. The wind is stronger here, and traces waves of sand across the flat side of the dunes. It's beautiful, but Zon barely notices it. Because the killer is here.
Just behind the remains of a reactor, standing up and looking away, he stands, a tall blue Novakid, wearing a black hat. He seems immobile, probably unable to hear Zon's approach through the peaceful whisper of the wind's dance with the creme-coloured dunes.
Zon quidraws and shoots. His silverish revolver fires a single plasma bolt, heated to the point of reaching a blue-white colour. It hits the side of the wreckage's reactor, deviating slightly to go through the killer's left shoulder with a sound akin to a gasoline explosion. The momentum carried by the heavy plasma bolt sends the killer flying alongside droplets of his own plasma, and he leaves Zon's field of vision to disappear behind the dead reactor in his fall.
Zon starts climbing the dune, in order for the black-hatted killer to return in his field of vision. As he nearly reaches the top of the dune for the best vantage point in the close proximity, he hears a gunshot, and what seems to be the impact force from a regular bullet sends sand flying in all directions just below his feet.
He hears another gunshot, and ducks over to the other side of the dune, hearing the whistling sound of a bullet's trajectory over his head. The sand behaves almost like a liquid, and he slips, falling on his ass against the dune's slope, sliding down uncontrollably.
Rolling and reaching the bottom of the dune, he hears a gunshot muffled by the wind, then, silence. He gets up and, not caring much from removing the sand in his coat, pants and boots, starts running in order to turn around the dune in a clockwise fashion. Since all he can hear of his target is his gunshots, he has to get the element of surprise, and appear from the side of the dune where the killer expects him the least to pop out of.
After a little jog in the sand, gun in hand and sand in pants, Zon finally locates the wreckage again. As expected, no signs of the blue Novakid. Once again, Zon, bounty hunter, becomes the prey in the game: this tought is enough to shatter all confidence he built up after successfully shooting the killer.
He walks silently towards the main wreckage, stepping over the long trail of debris that stems from the bent cockpit. The wind, facing the irregularity of the wreckage's structure, dances between the rusty metal plates. Zon stays low, his plasma revolver's cannon aimed wherever he looks.
He finds the body inside a small crater-like depression, next to what seems to be an unactivated escape pod. A bullet hole in the middle-aged human's head, its borders crimson with dried blood. Eyes open, looking up. But the body isn't alone.
The killer is next to it, kneeling, looking at the body, his hands trembling. Zon aims, but the killer speaks words that freeze him in terror and surprise.

"Please... please kill me..."

Unable to shoot, Zon takes a step back, still aiming at the blue Novakid's head. The latter turns around, and looks at Zon, his round-shaped brand reflecting the star's redish glow above their heads, and his pitch black hat contrasts heavily with the creme sand and red sky. In his right hand would be a regular revolver, probably an old Novakid-make one, and in his other hand, a little white dice. He looks like a bounty hunter, wearing a black coat with many buttons, black pants and boots, and a brown scarf. Burn marks on his shoulder, indicating the plasma wound from Zon's earlier attack.

"Please. I'm a monster now. I can't stop it. It tells me what to do, and I can't resist. I can't resist. It hurts. It hurts!"

Petrified, Zon watches as the blue Novakid aims at his own head with his pistol. But nothing happens. He doesn't pull the trigger.

"It won't even let me kill myself. I... I'm sick. Please end it. Please.

- What... what won't let you do it?"

After Zon's answer, the killer lowers his pistol, his hands still shaking. He tries to speak, but his voice is interrupted.

"It's the di-

- The what?

- The di-

- Stop fucking with me."

Zon steps closer and pushes his plasma revolver's cannon against the killer's head.

"Tell me, what the fuck is wrong with you? The voices tell you to do it?"

The killer emits a sound close to a wounded animal's cry.

"I can't tell you... It won't let me. But I can show you."

He holds his open hand up, the one with a dice in it. Zon laughs. He's completely nuts, he thinks.
The plasma bolt makes the killer's head explode, his brand ejected out of his head at high speed. His magnetic shell lingers for a moment, then fails, causing blue plasma to start burning his clothes and his hat, uncontained.
Zon steps away from his fuming remains and has a little tought for the killer's victims. He heads for his ejected, circular brand, but notices the dice on the ground, on his way.
What's so special about it? It's a regular dice, with six faces. Pure white, undamaged by the killer's plasma. Zon picks it up. Two trophies are better than one, right?

If only he knew.