[ WEEK FIVE – KILL LOG (CHANE) ]

[sheriffexe]

[ When Chane wakes, she will find herself lying on the ground near the bonfire. It is warm and hot and the only light source around for miles. It is also eerily quiet.

At a distance, she can probably see Russell bound in the stocks. His head is tipped forward and he is still -- asleep or dead, the question is left unanswered. But there is really little way he can help her now.

Nearby, a coyote watches her. ]

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[hitsitoff]

[The graveyard... Not where he expected this to go, but fine. There's worse places it could be.

Still, there being any kind of distance between them is bad and that's a problem he has to fix immediately. The less time she has to get her bearings, the better.

Better find something quick, Chane, Eliot's still running after you.]

[tightly]

[ Hey, she's fumbling around in the dark with a head injury, okay!

Regardless, it only takes her a few more seconds to locate the aforementioned shovel. It's clearly made for digging and not, you know, combat -- but a few seconds with it and she wields it like a second limb. A second unbalanced, cumbersome limb. Beggars can't be choosers, after all.

The moment he's in reach again, she swings out toward his head as hard as she can. ]

[hitsitoff]

[He sees her reach for something and he just barely reacts in time. The shovel swings entirely too close by his face, but the swing does miss. Of course, now she's got a shovel and he's still unarmed. So that's not ideal.

He looks at her, then the shovel.

Carefully, he moves closer to where she can reach again, trying to lure her into another swing. He can turn this around still.]

[tightly]

[ Chane takes that gambit, because she's injured and desperate. The shovel swings out again, as hard a blow as she can muster with her arms -- ]

[hitsitoff]

[Yeah, there we go. Eliot ducks to dodge the swing, then reaches for the shovel's shaft, grabbing hold of it. Then, quickly, hopefully before she has time to let go of it, he aims a kick for her abdomen.]

[tightly]

[ She lets go of the shovel the moment he grabs it, but doesn't leap back in time to dodge the kick. She might have, had she been at full health... but the more her head throbs, vision swimming under the residue of that first, damning blow -- the more she knows she's not going to last much longer. He strikes her abdomen hard and although she feels the concussive strike rattle through to her spine, she leaps back.

Already, her movements are growing erratic and sluggish, injury on top of injury crippling her.

It won't be much longer.

She turns to run again, but not as fast. He'll gain on her quickly. ]

[hitsitoff]

[He caught up to her before. This time, it's even less of a challenge.

And this time, he has a shovel. Which isn't according to plan at all, but it's about to come in handy. Namely the second he catches up to her. A blow to the head with this won't really be elegant, but it'll be effective. So long as it connects.

Let's see if it does.]

[tightly]

[ It does. The second blow to the head is even worse than the first, even if she can't feel the pain as severely. This time, she stumbles, collapsing in a heap as if her legs had come out from under her. The warm, bitter tang of blood fills her mouth as she realises she must have bit her tongue - foolish.

That'll be it then, won't it?

Vaguely, she wonders if her father will feel anything when she dies; if the psychic backlash of a severed connection can even reach him through the blockage of this town. That's not where her final thought will be, though. No.

Whatever Eliot does next, Chane is prepared to go with only one word - one name - in her thoughts.

Drawing up as best she can on trembling limbs, she looks her assailant directly in the eyes. ]

[hitsitoff]

[So that's it, then. This isn't the first time Eliot's stood above someone, knowing they were about to die by his hand. It's been a while, though. It should've been longer, it should've been never again, but that's how it goes. He's sure he's letting down his crew by doing this, but that's alright. Hardly the first time he's disappointed people who believe in him.

He wonders if this is breaking some arbitrary rule, using a weapon when he said he was going in without one. Well. He's sure the Sheriff will bitch at him about it if that's the case. Whatever.

There's no hesitation. That came before he decided to go through with this. Looking her in the eyes doesn't change that at all.

There's just another swing down at her head.

And that should be that.]

[tightly]

[ She barely has time to confront the final blow before it lands. This time, the blow breaks skin, her skull cracking and brain rupturing all in one swift second. Blood mats her hair, but it doesn't pour long.

Thought - a single thought, a beat and a syllable - courses through her like wildfire, an apology or maybe a plea, Claire —

By the time her body collapses into the cemetary grass, it's already growing colder.

Chane is dead. ]

[hitsitoff]

[He's breathing pretty heavily, winded from the workout she gave him. But it's over and that's that.

He'll have to do something about the burn she gave him, but he'll think of something. As for her body, well. They'll find it anyway. Moving it doesn't seem like his problem. So with that done, he just looks at her body and... walks away. The shovel he carries with him for only a little longer, before tossing it onto the ground somewhere. He doesn't even look at where it lands.

Eliot's done, he did what was asked.

That's enough.]