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“Two truths and a lie”
“That’s your idea of spending the last seconds of your life?”
It should be cutting and sarcastic, Purple means it to. But their voice is too hoarse to use, their brain too sluggish to work. Everything’s a streak of red, or blotches of black.
And, Green simply laughs.
“Give me something better, then. Any ideas?”
It smells of soil watered by fresh blood. Or dead animal slowly rots after days of dry season. Either way, Purple doesn’t smell too good either.
“I don’t know, man. Writing some kind of farewell letter?”
“To whom, exactly?”
To souls who will never know that tonight, universe decides to take their soldiers back to their comrades. To the uncaring visors of their tormentors. To sign their existences, if they’re not rewritten or worse.
Purple doesn’t answer, they just let out a sigh.
“Stop making me use my brain, genius”
“Forgive little ole’ me” There’s a smirk in Green’s voice. “I just happen to think you’re the smartest security guard I’ve ever met”
Purple opens their visor slightly, peering sideways. Here, in the space dark and unfamiliar, Green sticks out like an oasis in the desert. Their cap is missing, their jacket is loose. The rest of their crewmate skin is unrecognizable and more so their fleshier attributes.
Of course, instead of salt, they picked the hard method instead. It wasn’t like survival was their goal.
Their visor is closed, and there’s no hint of what the impostor actually feels. Maybe anger, maybe hatred. What Purple is able to guarantee is the way their fists clenched in an attempt to not scream out their pain.
It’s dark, and the space suffocates them. No doors or windows are seen.
“Do you want to hear someone else’s voice?” Green offers, a grit in their teeth. “It may bring back memories”
That’s a kindest yet cruelest offer Purple has heard. They’d take the ridiculous game instead.
“Nah, two truths and a lie sound fine” They shrug. And it’s a bad choice, muscles snap at their (non-existent) shoulders. They hide their grimace with a, “I don’t know much about you anyway”
“There’s nothing much to begin with” Green laments. Theirs voice carries a hint of Cyan’s distress, or Black’s frustrated acceptance of nihilism. They glance at Purple, looking at them with undisguised pity.
Purple knows how they look, attires torn here and there. Skin follows their footsteps. Cuts and bruises layered by dried blood. Their cap stays, covering a disturbing sight the back of their head provides. The spot feels wet and warm.
But, Green’s worse to wear. The full-of-themselves intern doesn’t get to pity them.
“No, intern. It’s not a pity party. Give me two truths and a lie”
“You lost your tie”
“And you lost your cap”
“-and your badge”
“And your- “Purple squints their visor in disdain, “God, why do you just have a cap as accessories?! This isn’t fair”
Purple throws their head back, avoiding Green’s gaze. That amuses the other since Purple can hear a weak cackle. A simple, sad smile grows on their own face.
“I’m a crewmate with an impostor’s heart, I’m a killer, I’m an impostor in a crewmate’s body”
“Wha?” Purple turns their head back.
Green looks at their- feet, or the equivalent of them. If Purple follows their line of sight, they may throw up.
“The game”
“Oh” Purple thinks “A crewmate with an impostor’s heart?”
Green smiles, their fangs peek out at the corners. They tilt their head, though there’s unnatural crack coming from their neck. In any other days, it would look like a doll with a mocking grin.
It looks like a broken doll with a smile stitched to its face. Because that’s a doll purpose, a happy company.
The intensity of it unnerves Purple. “Impostor in a crewmate’s body?”
The doll’s smile edges turn softer, almost melting.
Purple’s perception is usually sharp, but a fog hangs in their head. They grab the edge of their uniform and curl their fingers. A block settles in their chest as confusion sits on their throat.
“I don’t know” they give up, and it sounds weak. They shouldn’t be weak, they’re in front of an impostor. They should put on a brave face.
Heh, as if it has any use.
“And neither do I” Green confirms, and now Purple understands what is that smile for. “It is based on your perspective, really”
And how can they serve their own identity for others to perceive? Like they’re an object determined by people’s eyes. Maybe they lose their want to be a person. Since all they know is lies, manipulations, stories and abilities belong to different parts of them that are mixed and jumbled.
“Your turn” Green reminds softly, this one sounds like Blue’s gentleness.
“Cyan was my friend, Red was my friend” Purple feels something new upon their tongue as they uncurl their fists. No more the wicked sweetness and the hint of tang, but something saltier and lighter. It coats their tongue, turns it into lead. But they continue, they continue because it’s only fair that they do.
“And you’re my friend”
A pin drops.
Green’s breath hitched. It’s hilarious since Purple is sure the bastard doesn’t need oxygen to live. It’s hilarious and Purple should catch them for it. They should laugh. They should make a snarky remark.
“You’re evil” Green answers, disbelief apparent. “You’re evil, evil, evil- How can you?”
Purple wipes their face roughly, they try to find anymore bleeding spots, but their effort is futile even though their face keeps getting wet and wet.
“Just answer, you freak” they quip, cutting through Green’s rambling of you’re evil, how can you, you can’t play a dying person’s heart you know yada yada and if Purple writes it down, it will form a fucking essay.
Their rambling falters into none.
Then they take a breath- again, how hilarious. Their claws tap-tap-tap at the floor, the noise reverberates against the surface in disorganized harmony. Their next sentence falls like rock onto a pond.
“I was not your friend” they state with Red’s voice, clear as crystal. “I’m not your friend” they restate with a meek intern’s voice, the one who comes from a worm farm with innocent demeanor and nervous jitters.
For a moment, Purple’s back to the reactor. For a moment, they forget that they are going to die of blood loss. For a moment, they forget that Green is going to die of premature mutilation.
For a moment, Purple feels like they’re anticipating their mission on The Skeld, and not some unknown afterlife.
“Well,” they muse tiredly “Isn’t that based on your opinion?”
Their face still feels damp, as well as their whole body.
“I think we should agree on one thing” Green protests with a pout “That’s the worst two truths and a lie game I’ve ever played”
Then Purple laughs, ignoring everything else.
“You’re right”