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Microphone walked away and Taco lost her, what was she meant to do? Run after her, beg for her to stay? To allow herself to prove she wasn't going to backstab her? Not like Pickle. No, she couldn’t let Microphone see her like that, damnit she couldn't let herself be seen like that. The foolish people in the game wouldn't allow it, they’d never get over it, no one would fear her anymore. She took off her headset and stormed off into the woods, feeling too many emotions she can't explain.
Eventually she arrived at the deactivated MePad in the woods, staring at them for what seemed like hours, her thoughts racing like the latest sports car. She felt her hands twitch, like a ticking bomb. The headset remained in her grasp like a knife, a stupid Knife. With a sudden CRACK, she slammed the headset against a tree. “That stupid IDIOT!”, kicking the headphones against the tree again. “Those stupid IDEAS, it’s all his fault,” Taco picked up the battered headset and tore its wire and its connectors apart. “If he just kept his stupid mouth shut, then Microphone-” Taco turned to the blank screen of MePad’s face, seeing herself, and her expression, her rather recent wound on her eye.
Who was she kidding, this couldn't have been his fault. It was stupid of her to think she could have the wild card for herself. This realization did little to quell her internal strife, her body still stiff like a doll, yet shaking. “What’s the point, she’s just a stupid girl,” She collapsed to the ground, sitting on her calves, grabbing at the dirt and the grass. Nothing she could tell herself helped, any anger she had was clear and blatant projection, and she knew it. She took a glance at MePad and felt her arm twitch again, punching the tree next to her, the bark gashing into her knuckles.
Taco recoiled in pain, her power lost on her, she stood up, fist wavering from the wound, she felt like she could hardly control herself anymore. Her eyes looked at MePad, an urge she knew she couldn’t give into. Her fist twitched before striking a tree again. And again, then again. Each strike with each fist sent jolts of pain up her arms, each jolt dulled out until it was just a hum with the thoughts stirring in her head. Mumbling words of deprecation, towards Knife, towards Mic, then to herself, like they always were. ‘broken’ ‘hopeless’ tears ran down her face like a river, tears she didn't know she had.
Eventually, Taco couldn't bear to stand, and fell to the ground, her vision so blurred from her eye wound, and now from her tears, meant she couldn't be witness to the wreck of her hands. She looked at them, but all she could see was red and how they trembled. She glanced at the tree, and despite how dark it was outside, the moon shined enough brightness to be able to make out the spot she struck, and what her hands got on it.
She finally felt numb, but a small buzz still remained. She wasn't unaware, she needed to tend to her wounds, but for all she had done, she couldn't care enough of herself to do so.