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When it comes down to the last vote, Green votes for Red. All the flip-flopping and pussyfooting aside, it's a tense affair once Red decides to comply. It's MIRA code, after all, and the Captain must follow it—until death, apparently.
Whoever heard of a Captain walking the plank, Red thinks bitterly. Shouldn't the Captain go down with their ship? Shouldn't they drown with the vessel of the sea (well, space) that carried them so far?
Red exchanges a hard look with Purple as they march towards the garbage chute that is their death sentence. When their steps slow, Purple goes out of their way to step forward and walk with them. "Come on," they said, "let's get this over with."
"I told you, I'm not the imposter," Red grits out. "I wouldn't lie about that—!"
"It's too late, Red—if that's who you really are. We all voted, and—you've been lying every moment you've been on this ship," says Purple. "And, and you—" Purple tsks harshly, revealing an anger that's more hurt than malicious. "You pretended to be my friend. If that's not imposter enough, then—I don't know what is."
"…Tch." Red huffs, and—there they are. The garbage chute.
Purple pulls down the lever. "Well?" they implore.
"…"
Red doesn't move.
"God, why do you—" Purple tries to shove Red into the opening, but Red struggles back. "Why do you have to be so difficult?!"
"I'm not going to die like this," Red screeches, their limbs flailing about as Purple tries to grasp them. "I'm the Captain, and I—I won't abandon ship. I'm not letting anymore people die like this—!"
"You've got to be kidding me," Purple hisses furiously. Red is in a ridiculous position—extended across the opening of the chute, a hand in each of frame's the top corners, and their legs committing to a split that prevents them from falling into the garbage. "Do you have any idea how many crewmates you allowed to die?! Because you couldn't admit to your own incompetence!? You're not a real Captain."
"Purps, I know we've had our differences, but you have to believe me—"
"Why should I believe you?! God, at every opportunity, you've—without fail—made every wrong call!""
"Purple, please—"
"Uhhhhhh," Green pipes up nervously. "Should we… do something…?"
Yellow lets out a bitter sigh. "If you wanna get in between that, then that's on you. I'm just—I can't say I'm glad that someone potentially innocent is gonna die in my place, but—" Yellow looks at Brown, their hands clasped in each other's. Brown's grip is firm; Yellow squeezes back.
"Ummm, guys?" Green tries again, wringing their hands like a total wimp.
"Jeez, don't piss yourself trying to get our attention," huffs Black, crossing their hands across their body.
Green inhales shakily. "Well! S-sorry to interrupt, but—uh—! I think, um, someone should—stop them?"
Purple and Red are practically wrestling on the ground now, exchanging very real, very personal punches. After Purple watched the first trickle of blood slide down Red's visor, it was as if they'd just received an open invitation to unleash years of frustration upon each other.
"That's not good," says Brown. [SFX: background fighting noises]
"We all had an agreement!!" screeches Purple.
"I CAN'T DIE LIKE THIS!!" Red shrieks.
"CAN'T??? OR WON'T, ASSHOLE??"
"I JUST—CAN'T!!" Red cries, and—ah. Those are real tears. "I-I can't."
The other crewmates shift uncomfortably. Red's palpable desperation is—frightening. As if confronting them with just what exactly they were doing if they really were to eject an innocent crewmate.
"…If Red really is the imposter, they're doing a real good job at making me feel guilty," admits Black.
"Not me," snorts Yellow. "If someone's gotta die, it might as well be the closest thing we have to our oppressor."
"…hm."
"Oh, don't look at me like that. You can't tell me those actively climbing the system aren't enabling the upper class that's controlling them."
"I'd argue that there's nuance in accountability. How guilty is someone for just trying to survive—?"
"Please, we're all just trying to survive—not like that's any excuse to perpetuate the abuse of the working class—!"
"Guys!!" Green blurts out. "Um, hello?! Bigger fish to fry??"
"Oh, yes, bigger worms to make out with, I'm sure," retorts Black.
"I told you, that never happened—!!!!"
"—You know what?!" Purple suddenly snarls, sounding much like an unleashed petmate.
The fighting stops, and it feels off-rhythm.
Purple backs off. For a moment, Red thinks they might've actually found another way to do this. "Purps…. thank you. I—"
"FOR HERACLES!!!!!!!!" Purple cries—and just like that, they're rushing towards Red like a bullet from a gun. A very angry, very sad bullet from an even sadder gun. Red's visor widens a split second before force hits them, and Purple is tackling them into the garbage chute. They hit the ground with a painful thud; Red, cushioning Purple's fall with their body, feels a throbbing pain spinning at the back of their head.
Red shoots up with sudden clarity—then, horror. Of the abject sort, most definitely. "Purple, what ar—what are you doing?!"
"Shut up," Purple hisses, and shoves them back down to garbage covered floor—Red bangs harshly against the metal and cries out in pain. "Shut up, you idiot," Purple continues furiously, their voice wavering unintentionally at the end (it's an embarrassing sliver of emotion that reveals more than they'd like to share with Red), but still—they have never been more sure of what they needed to do right now than they've ever been in their life.
And this—this was life or death. If Purple couldn't stop the imposter, why would they deserve to live any more than the crewmates whose lives were taken? And if there were imposters still out there, or the mission fails because of the ships lack of maintenance, and the whole crew was generally just doomed?
Well. If they were losing the whole crew, MIRA might as well lose the whole damn ship—and Purple couldn't think of a greater reward than being the one to take out the Captain.
"Pull the lever!" Purple screams; their voice is hoarse from exertion, but by god, do they scream.
"We—"
"Seriously, don't make me say it twice," snaps Purple. "Pull the damn lever!! Now!!"
Purple doesn't know who pulls the lever.
They thank them in their head for taking action, and they hope that the crew will be alright. I'm sorry, Heracles. I'm sorry, Cyan.
With the floor opened beneath them, Purple and Red are falling—well, as close as you can get to falling, when you're getting sucked into the vacuum of space. It's a strange feeling—a rush of suction that viciously pulls them into a void, then—the void.
Slowly but surely, the Skeld gets farther and farther as they float away into space.
Purple should be able to relax now, knowing that they both will die. But, still.
Tension pulls their heart taut as they turn to Red, gazed fixed on them intently.
Waiting.
It'll happen any moment now, right?
Red is the imposter.
…
Red is the imposter, Purple is sure of it.
A moment passes.
My hands are shaking, thinks Purple, anticipating forming a threatening warmth that climbs underneath the layer of their suit. I can't stop.
Purple thought space would be quiet. Sound doesn't travel here, does it?
It's not quiet.
The humming of the universe is loud—imposing. The sound of something greater than them, and everything they knew—something so big that you realize how small and insignificant. Icy infinity, Red had said. That sounds about right.
Maybe there's a black hole nearby.
Purple lets go, realizing they had been clutching onto Red the moment they had been launched into space. Something about seeking out old comforts, or whatever.
The Skeld is smaller in the distance. Red cries, but the tears that well up in their eyes are ice.
Purple's heart sinks.
Red is not the imposter.
They had a feeling that they knew the truth the moment the lever had been pulled, but—they don't know. How would they have known that? They didn't know. The realization of the true circumstances of their death doesn't deserved to be called that. It's not a realization, it's something much more bitter and cynical, and mostly sad if anything. Purple isn't sure of how much anger they have left in them; what's the point of holding onto it anymore? They've done everything there is to be done.
There's nothing left for them here.
Purple thinks of closing their eye, of drifting into space and disappearing; discarding their disbelief and accepting the few, precious grains of time they have remaining.
When Purple floats away, Red reaches out, grabbing them—pulling Purple back to Red. Refusing to let them get away, not again.
I was angry, thinks Purple, still grasping at the idea of owning disbelief. I was so angry. Where did it all go? Where does anything go, once lost in the maw of the vast?
Purple sees Red, then. This time, when Red catches their gaze, it breaks through: softly shattering a layer of ice into thin shards until they scatter among the stars.
"I'm sorry, Purple," says Red, and it's heavy in the zero gravity of space, despite it all. Purple is so close, they can hear every breath, every tick, every tone in Red's dorky ass wannabe voice. They want to be closer, Purple thinks—understands: this is the last voice they'll ever hear. Purple wants to hear it all.
Sound doesn't travel in space. Nobody can hear you. There is nothing for the vibrations to bounce off of. It's quiet, and it's lonely, and there is so much nothing.
Red hears Purple, anyway—loud and clear and bright and hurt and perfect.
"It's too late, isn't?" Purple chokes out. They shed a tear—that, too, turns to ice. "It's way too late for anything."
"You can't think like that," Red sobs, and though they're crying, they're still trying to smile—for Purple. "Purple, I—I was never pretending. Okay, maybe I was, um, pretending in regards to the whole Captain thing—"
"Don't think there's anything in your manual for this?" Purple jokes warily.
"Haha, no—ha. Um, what I mean to say is—I was never pretending. To be your friend. I always valued your friendship very much."
"Really?" says Purple. "That much?"
"Yes," Red replies, dear and earnest. "It's the whole world to me."
"Wow," chuckles Purple. "And you can only admit that when we're about to die from freezing in space, all cold and alone."
"No," Red shakes their head. "Not alone."
A beat.
"Red."
"…Purple," Red says cautiously, as if treading rising waters. "What? What's wrong? Is it your vitals? I-is it too cold? Sorry, stupid question, are you oka—"
"Red," laughs Purple, breathless and cold, "Shut the fuck up."
Purple is smiling, and crying, and freezing, and their hands are pressing into the sides of Red's face, and Red thinks that this may be what warmth in space must feel like—"I don't forgive you. But, thank you."
Red's stupid sandal is floating away, and they didn't even realize it until Purple jauntily plucks it from space, and gingerly raises Red's foot to slip the damn thing back on. It's so horribly tender that Red think it just might be enough to melt the ice overtaking their bodies. Purple is laughing—it's a quiet sound, but Red hears it, wouldn't mistake it for anything else in the world (it was once such a familiar thing!. But, ah, yes—Purple is laughing at the probably very weird but very awed, wacky expression that Red is making right now.
In Purple's numb grasp, Red decides that they are what matters most.
It's so cold, and there are so many stars, but Purple is yanking Red forward, and their hats are far gone and floating away, and Red realizes that this is gravity. It's Purple's desperate pull, their faces crushed together with the weight of the universe, Red's hands clutching onto their past and the present and future all wrapped up in one wonderful being called Purple. The brightest star, Red thinks—it'd be a cute pet name, if they made it out of here alive. Which they won't. But, if they did made it out alive, Red would like to tell Purple how hot it was when they tackled them into the garbage chute and commanded with such fierce steel in their voice to essentially kill them. There was such an incredible resolve in their voice, and they were so sure, more sure about anything than Red was sure about this entire trip. Hell, maybe their entire career at MIRA. Stupid MIRA. Stupid, fucking MIRA. It'd be pretty nice to start a rebellion with Purple and take down MIRA—real nice to do, just once they got out of here. Which, again, won't happen. Unfortunately.
Red can't feeling anything in their body—so they must basically already be dead, but. Purple is still here, and Red is still there, and they're still floating away in each other's hold.
It's kinda nice, being together again. Even like this, especially after arguing so much on the Skeld, but still missing them like crazy. Maaaaybe this would be considered arguing to the end, but even then, it's different—there's… an understanding now. There's—something. Something that's special to Red, something that they'll never get again. Would be greater if it lasted a little longer, preferably even on land, but—hey, you gotta take what you can get.
And if sometimes all you get is eternal castaways with your best friend in the whole wide world that you spent all this time fighting with? Then, well! Perfect!
I can't believe this is the void, thinks Red. This is what it's like. Everyone was hyping it up—down? Hyping it down? Hyping it down—um, up—hyping it up to be all sad and cold and lonely. And, uh, yeah, it basically is. It pretty much is. Gee, is it me, or is it severely lacking oxygen in here? Haha. Hahahaha. Um, yeah.
Everyone said dying in the void sucks. But it's really not so bad, I think.
When Red finally lets their vision rest and fade to black, they know that they'll never be alone again.
"A-are… are they…?" Green hesitates.
"Making out in space? Yeah," says Yellow.
"Ah," Black nods briefly, in—approval? "Just about as I expected."
"I-I mean, they could just be pressing their foreheads together..." Green suggests in a mumble.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Yellow says at the same time that Black says "Sure."
"Both of them are evidently crewmates," remarks Brown.
"Uh huh," replies Green. "I'd say I can't clean up corpses that are floating in space, but uh—! Hah, I-I guess I—don't have to do that, anymore!"
"…Yes," Brown raises an eyebrow. "Because that means one of us is the killer."
"…"
"Oh, shit!" yelps Black. "One of us is the killer!!"
Yellow gets to work immediately. "OnetwothreeNOT-IT."
Brown's answer is immediate. "Not it."
Then Black, raising their hands in the air: "Not it!"
"—-!!" Green's delay is extremely obvious. They gape at everyone. "Oh, c-come on, that's not fair—!! You can't possibly take that to mean that—"
"YOU'RE THE KILLER!!"