Elsie's knees were on fire and freshly bleeding, but that pain was peanuts compared to the heart attack she was certain she was about to have. Tally came through the door first, followed by Tasi. Both women froze when they saw Tate standing there, aiming the gun with both hands. Tasi, holding two red containers, stepped sideways around the target and went back to where she'd been told to stand before, near the Christmas Tree. Tally stayed behind the desk, her shotgun hanging from a strap over her shoulder, eyes narrowing.

She scoffed. "You don't know how to use --"

Tate immediately adjusted the sliders and levers on the gun and pulled the trigger. The sound was louder than anything Elsie had ever heard before. The bullet hit Tally in her upper right arm, sending a spray of blood onto the wall behind her, and she screeched and ducked behind the desk. 

"Unfortunately," Tate said through gritted teeth, his eyes shiny, "I do."

And Elsie had her answer as to how he killed his father. 

Silence followed his statement. The blood on the wall dripped down. Everyone stared at the desk, wary of the monster that hid behind it. Tate was still aiming in that direction, but he was trembling now. 

"She'll pop up any second," Luke whispered, "you have to run!"

"I'm sorry, I should've..." Tate was stammering. "Her head...I meant--"

Elsie understood. He was too scared to kill another person, so he'd gone for her arm instead. She repeated what Luke said, urging him to run, and Margaret joined the choir. Together they implored him to save himself, but like last time, he did not.

Instead, Tate lowered one hand from the gun and started pulling at Elsie's knot, trying to free her. With his other hand, he still had his aim near the desk, finger resting on the trigger.

And Tally sprung up, shotgun already ready, and fired at Tate. It hit him right in the chest, and he flew backwards.

.....................

Getting shot didn't feel like what Tate thought it would feel like. When he'd watched his father collapse, he imagined all his nerves lighting up in pain, an excruciating experience that would last for the entirety of what little time he had left. Instead, when the shotgun found its mark, Tate felt only a short, fleeting instance of sharpness spreading through his bones, and then he felt nothing at all. 

As he fell backwards, the ceiling of the lobby swung into his view. It was a painted sky, and quite pretty, too. How had he just noticed this for the first time?

Tate Archer was not angry. He was glad he shot Tally; even if he failed to kill her, maybe her injury would lead to her demise somehow. He was glad the last thing he did was try to help people. He wished them the best.

.....................

Tate was dead the moment he hit the floor. Margaret felt her heart shatter into millions of pieces. She erupted into profanities aimed at Tally, as did Luke, and they screamed at her while Tasi and Elsie were gasping and crying.

"Shut up!" Tally exclaimed. For the first time, she didn't look composed. Something animalistic had taken over her features.

With much effort, Elsie quieted down to one long sniff. Tasi had her hands clamped over her mouth, the color drained from her face. Luke and Margaret were shooting Tally equally murderous looks. Tally took a deep breath, slowly easing back into calm.

Margaret was burning with anger and sorrow. She clenched her hands so hard, her fingers were trembling from the pressure. "He was just a child!" she spat.

Tally tilted her head innocently, brows furrowed. "I don't think so! If he were a child, he wouldn't have been able to get a room here himself, would he? But you gave him a room." She looked at Tasi. "So he must be an adult."

Tasi pressed her lips together, likely to keep from screaming, and buried her face in her hands.

"Why should I feel bad for taking out an adult when they were trying to take me out, too?" Tally reasoned. "Have none of you heard of survival of the fittest?"

She nonchalantly walked over to Tate's body, picked up Luke's gun, and tucked it into her coat. As much as she tried to hide her regret at leaving it at the table with them, Margaret could see her frustration in the subtle twitch of her face.

"You're not some high-class mastermind like you make yourself out to be," Margaret said calmly. 

"Hm." Tally returned to the desk and leaned back against it to face them. "Do tell."

"You're spiraling," Margaret continued, looking her dead in the eyes. "You left the gun here to taunt us, you like playing games, only it didn't go your way. It hasn't gone your way all night, has it?"

The small smile left Tally's face.

Margaret could feel the others' eyes on her, begging her to not poke the bear, but she was too angry to stop. "You're just an animal," she sneered, "with the brain the size of a walnut. Doing what you please, yet you have no clue what to do next."

Silence settled over the lobby. Last time there was silence, it was broken by a gunshot. Margaret wouldn't be surprised if it happened again, if her body was about to join Tate's on the floor, but in this moment, she didn't regret a single thing she said. 

Tally casually inspected the blood dripping down her arm and flinched when she prodded around the hole. Then she walked over to Tasi, whispering something in her ear. Tasi stood with the red containers and started spilling their contents all over the lobby. She doused the floors, the couches, even the desk and the tree. 

Gasoline. It smelled like gasoline.

"An insurance policy," Tally said with a wink. "Now, you got a medical kit back there?"

Tasi nodded stiffly.

"Great. I hope you're talented, 'cause you're going to take care of this for me."

Tally gently curled her fingers around her wound, only allowing the smallest wince before heading out the back door once more, Tasi at her heels.