Serial Killer Round 37: The Special Holiday Edition (Get those votes in.)
- Thread starter axle 19
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@axle: Pretty good... I picked up Bastion (plus the soundtrack) and Fable: The Lost Chapters. Plus Omega bought me the two Duels 2012 deck packs, and I got myself Saints Row 2 on the day my old PC packed a sad and died, so I've got a fair bit to look forward to.
@[user]Counter[/user]: Nice man. I also picked up Bastion. Additionally, I got Audiosurf, Alien Swarm, Portal 2, Counter Strike Source, and was gifted the Witcher and Limbo. I really wish my laptop could run Dawn of War II so I could buy it.
I had suspected they would come for me... I was the closest, the easiest target. I had found Skye tangled up in her own bedsheets, obvious signs of suffocation present on her still, lifeless form. Telling the others had made me suspicious to them, even in the state of grief and shock I had been in. I remember the tears I had cried, tracing lines down my face that I never troubled to wipe away.
She and I had lived in the same building: I could have sneaked into her room at any time while she was asleep. I had ample opportunity. There were plenty of improvised weapons around the house, but the pillow was right there. I had means. The motive, though... that was what was missing. That was where the killer's attempt to frame me had erred.
The people were all blind to the truth. All of them. Even the ones who claimed they had not wanted to end my life. I didn't do it; I couldn't have done it. But they did not believe me. I resented their ignorance. That and my own failures. Failure to note the looks people gave, the hurriedly hushed discussions whenever I approached. Failure to time it right, failure to secure the building that one night. I failed, and now I have paid the price.
I don't know why I was out wandering the streets alone. In mourning, maybe, for the loss of a friend. It had only been a few days since I had... since I had found Skye. I had done her the kindness of sliding her eyelids over the twin orbs that cast their glassy, unseeing stare, but that was all I had done to change how I had seen her. I did not want to touch her after that. I remember watching the people take her away, covered by a plain shroud. My eyes felt like they had been burned, such were the tears I had cried that night and the many nights after. I had not slept in days: I was too afraid to do so. Too scared that someone would come for me in the way they had done for Skye.
Someone joined me, unfamiliar by sight given the darkness in which he stood. But I recognised the familiar voice. Neo. He spoke of the grief the town felt, and how it must have all come as an insane shock to me. I told him he had no idea. Just seeing the ruined body was... awful. Abhorrent. I explained as much, my voice deadpan as I gazed unseeingly at the ground below. A second joined the two of us, female this time judging by the silhouette cast by the streetlights. This voice, too, was one I knew well. Midknight. She claimed that the town was looking for a scapegoat, someone to take the fall.
I remember stopping in my tracks to look at the pair of them, noting their impassive expressions. "No... no, you c-c-can't do this. I... I'm not... I c-couldn't, I..." That was all I could say before natural instincts kicked in. I don't do well under pressure; I froze up, mouth clamped shut, eyes locked on my own two feet as I began to sob. Tears of panic, terror and grief, carving the rivers ever deeper into my face. I remember my hands starting to shake, and the side of my right eye twitching ever so slightly. I hate that, and want to get rid of it. I would not get the opportunity now.
My knees gave way, and I simply let myself fall, resting in a heap before the people I had called friends. As I curled into a ball, they began to speak again, taking turns to outline how they believed I had done it... but I could not speak to contradict them. My mind screamed that they were wrong, so very wrong. That they had accused the wrong person. But my body could not back it up. I could not bring myself to answer. My mouth would not let me.
I could not answer. Another of my many failures.
They picked me up, dusted me off, and Midknight took me by the arm as we walked again. The feeling of her arm entwined with mine was strange, as was the touch of her other hand on my shoulder. I do not know how they tolerated my cries of terror, nor the sniffling of my nose or the dragging of my feet. Midknight whispered words of comfort into my ear as we walked... I did not comprehend half of them. I did not know where we were going, but I remember the three of us entering a room, and I was helped into one of the plush leather chairs. I was given a glass of water, but as soon as I tried to raise it to my lips, I dropped it and spilled it all over myself. My hands were shaking too much to hold it properly.
It was becoming hard to breathe, and I made no effort to stem the flows from my eyes and nose, nor to stop my mouth from releasing inarticulate wails and moans of obvious distress. Why couldn't they see reason? Why couldn't they... why couldn't they see? Then I saw a third person join the group through my blurred vision. Another woman. Raising one arm before her, I could not make out what was in her hand. The woman spoke only two words to me:
"Rule Britannia."
A noise, a white light... and then, nothing. It was over. Fitting, really... for nothing is what they have gained from my death. I did not kill Skye. They were wrong. They had failed.
Just as I had failed.
[sub]Just as I had failed.[/sub]
She and I had lived in the same building: I could have sneaked into her room at any time while she was asleep. I had ample opportunity. There were plenty of improvised weapons around the house, but the pillow was right there. I had means. The motive, though... that was what was missing. That was where the killer's attempt to frame me had erred.
The people were all blind to the truth. All of them. Even the ones who claimed they had not wanted to end my life. I didn't do it; I couldn't have done it. But they did not believe me. I resented their ignorance. That and my own failures. Failure to note the looks people gave, the hurriedly hushed discussions whenever I approached. Failure to time it right, failure to secure the building that one night. I failed, and now I have paid the price.
I don't know why I was out wandering the streets alone. In mourning, maybe, for the loss of a friend. It had only been a few days since I had... since I had found Skye. I had done her the kindness of sliding her eyelids over the twin orbs that cast their glassy, unseeing stare, but that was all I had done to change how I had seen her. I did not want to touch her after that. I remember watching the people take her away, covered by a plain shroud. My eyes felt like they had been burned, such were the tears I had cried that night and the many nights after. I had not slept in days: I was too afraid to do so. Too scared that someone would come for me in the way they had done for Skye.
Someone joined me, unfamiliar by sight given the darkness in which he stood. But I recognised the familiar voice. Neo. He spoke of the grief the town felt, and how it must have all come as an insane shock to me. I told him he had no idea. Just seeing the ruined body was... awful. Abhorrent. I explained as much, my voice deadpan as I gazed unseeingly at the ground below. A second joined the two of us, female this time judging by the silhouette cast by the streetlights. This voice, too, was one I knew well. Midknight. She claimed that the town was looking for a scapegoat, someone to take the fall.
I remember stopping in my tracks to look at the pair of them, noting their impassive expressions. "No... no, you c-c-can't do this. I... I'm not... I c-couldn't, I..." That was all I could say before natural instincts kicked in. I don't do well under pressure; I froze up, mouth clamped shut, eyes locked on my own two feet as I began to sob. Tears of panic, terror and grief, carving the rivers ever deeper into my face. I remember my hands starting to shake, and the side of my right eye twitching ever so slightly. I hate that, and want to get rid of it. I would not get the opportunity now.
My knees gave way, and I simply let myself fall, resting in a heap before the people I had called friends. As I curled into a ball, they began to speak again, taking turns to outline how they believed I had done it... but I could not speak to contradict them. My mind screamed that they were wrong, so very wrong. That they had accused the wrong person. But my body could not back it up. I could not bring myself to answer. My mouth would not let me.
I could not answer. Another of my many failures.
They picked me up, dusted me off, and Midknight took me by the arm as we walked again. The feeling of her arm entwined with mine was strange, as was the touch of her other hand on my shoulder. I do not know how they tolerated my cries of terror, nor the sniffling of my nose or the dragging of my feet. Midknight whispered words of comfort into my ear as we walked... I did not comprehend half of them. I did not know where we were going, but I remember the three of us entering a room, and I was helped into one of the plush leather chairs. I was given a glass of water, but as soon as I tried to raise it to my lips, I dropped it and spilled it all over myself. My hands were shaking too much to hold it properly.
It was becoming hard to breathe, and I made no effort to stem the flows from my eyes and nose, nor to stop my mouth from releasing inarticulate wails and moans of obvious distress. Why couldn't they see reason? Why couldn't they... why couldn't they see? Then I saw a third person join the group through my blurred vision. Another woman. Raising one arm before her, I could not make out what was in her hand. The woman spoke only two words to me:
"Rule Britannia."
A noise, a white light... and then, nothing. It was over. Fitting, really... for nothing is what they have gained from my death. I did not kill Skye. They were wrong. They had failed.
Just as I had failed.
[sub]Just as I had failed.[/sub]
You read correctly, people: you chose me. But I am not your murderer.
As an aside, I think this might have been one of my best deaths yet.
Edit: I have a bizarre urge to record my death and post it in audio form as well, just to truly convey the expressions I wanted.
@CA: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAand yes, I do agree that this is one of your best deaths ever. 
And I like the idea of an audio death. I was thinking of doing a video death once, but I lacked actors... and a decent camera.
So... does that mean we're not doing karaoke? <_<
And I like the idea of an audio death. I was thinking of doing a video death once, but I lacked actors... and a decent camera.
So... does that mean we're not doing karaoke? <_<
It was easy enough to mourn the death of an old friend. It was harder to mourn the death of someone you had killed. Sure he hadn't wanted to; he had put another name into the hat but lots were drawn and choices were made. He just wished that he hadn't watched. The man didn't protest, he just died, gave up without a fight.
The oaken casket was brought towards the rocks that peppered the cemetery, marking all those gone before their time. Those who were wrongly accused and died despite their innocence lay in their tombs, much like CounterAttack would, resting until the end of days it seemed. His face looked almost peaceful in death, there was no sign, no mark of the horrors that had flashed before his eyes before he was executed for a crime he did not commit.
The eulogy was short and to the point. The usual bullshit such as commentary on his character, the speech of being taken too soon spoken as quick as possible. We knew what we were guilty of; we knew that the murder was on our hands. Were we better than the Killer? Did our own madness outmatch their own? Would we win when we caught them or would they win because we kill so many of our own in the pursuit of justice?
While others feigned tears or told a joke to remember CA, I stood by the end of the grave, watching the casket sink slowly into its eight foot resting place. I threw a single flower on top of the oak lid and closed my eyes for I knew the blood had only just began.
The oaken casket was brought towards the rocks that peppered the cemetery, marking all those gone before their time. Those who were wrongly accused and died despite their innocence lay in their tombs, much like CounterAttack would, resting until the end of days it seemed. His face looked almost peaceful in death, there was no sign, no mark of the horrors that had flashed before his eyes before he was executed for a crime he did not commit.
The eulogy was short and to the point. The usual bullshit such as commentary on his character, the speech of being taken too soon spoken as quick as possible. We knew what we were guilty of; we knew that the murder was on our hands. Were we better than the Killer? Did our own madness outmatch their own? Would we win when we caught them or would they win because we kill so many of our own in the pursuit of justice?
While others feigned tears or told a joke to remember CA, I stood by the end of the grave, watching the casket sink slowly into its eight foot resting place. I threw a single flower on top of the oak lid and closed my eyes for I knew the blood had only just began.
It amazed me how fast the town changed from pleasant idle chatter to a zealous pursuit of a clearly impossible verdict. I observed with vague interest but even that turned to bite me as I haphazardly contributed to the death of an innocent. Though I wish I could claim it was random I too chose the one closest. My machanical logic choosing the most affiliated to the victim. I feel guilty but sadly also relieved.
Arriving here now is just my luck. Lets just hope that this town doesn't turn on the newcomers. These will be trying times.
Arriving here now is just my luck. Lets just hope that this town doesn't turn on the newcomers. These will be trying times.
@bob pleasant chatter? we were discussing my totally legal and not-at-all mafia-backed barbershop/organ donation clinic/cardboard box filled with CO[sub]2[/sub].
and if my first vote turns out to be right... i'm coming for your appendixes.
on a related note, who wants Penguin's fringe and large intestine?
and if my first vote turns out to be right... i'm coming for your appendixes.
on a related note, who wants Penguin's fringe and large intestine?
@Mort why pay me for HIS... *insane smile* when you can just use YOUR OWN! *children yelling happily*
YAAAY! *chainsaw*
...
*blood*
...
*flamethrower*
there you go.
YAAAY! *chainsaw*
...
*blood*
...
*flamethrower*
there you go.
@Mort because, silly, my JOB is to know what organs people do and do not have.
its simple:
humans have hearts.
they do not have scurmidgledies.
unless i GIVE them scurmidgledies.
or take away their hearts i suppose...
now, who else wants to come to... The Box (now licensed to sell alcohol and cigarettes[footnote]yeah, i finally found my Sharpie![/footnote]).
its simple:
humans have hearts.
they do not have scurmidgledies.
unless i GIVE them scurmidgledies.
or take away their hearts i suppose...
now, who else wants to come to... The Box (now licensed to sell alcohol and cigarettes[footnote]yeah, i finally found my Sharpie![/footnote]).
@Trilby: I used to have a scurmidgledy, but I had to get it removed because of a malignant, rhinoceral growth.