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From the Desk of R. C. Sanderson, 23rd February 2012.
In the History of the Game, there have been countless participants. But only one winner. Many have vied for a chance at victory, while others were content without that opportunity. When the round began, I had wished to follow in the footsteps of the One, but I soon realised it was not to be. The Banshee's Wail grew louder by the day.
But I wax poetic. The first choice had been easy enough... yeah, sure. If it had been easy then my name is Freddi'Bob G Junior, and I'm from North-West Spagletonia. I agonised over each and every decision I had to make, for that is what I do and who I am. Just a side effect of my bizarre mind. All the while I hid in plain sight, with secrets, lies and alibis covering my tracks. I played the part of a confused roleless member of society: it was not hard, especially in one particular time of chaos. Still, people naturally suspected me. I am often the unjust victim of speculation.
As an aside, "Secrets, Lies and Alibis" should be either a song title or a line therein. But I digress.
As I stated above, the first had been a difficult choice. I did not know where to begin, though I did have some idea of how to mask my footsteps. Despite my presence in the first cycle, I staged an alibi for the second. I had thought that that would throw people off my trail. Convincing people such as Sky, Skye and a couple of others had helped.
Putting a sniper round in the head of the Arbiter had also helped... but it had not been worth it. What if I had missed the shot? He had taken a hostage dear to me... I could not live with such blood on my hands. I tried to put it past me, tried to move on... but I often thought back to that moment, that horrifying second when the scope had settled on Skye instead.
Another aside: Some people know of my preference for the sniper rifle. Perhaps that gave me away a little, though it could not be helped.
Above all else, however, my major issue here was strategy. I am not one for concocting multiple plans at once and adapting them to situations: my preference is finding one route and sticking to it as long as it works. That process was immediately ruined by the actions of certain people. Had the Spy not revealed their list of suspects, or Stekepanne not done what he did, perhaps my life as a murderer might have been easier. I pray that people do not repeat Stekepanne's actions: this round they caused far more stress than they are worth. Especially to me, since I don't get some things that other people find dead simple.
I even contemplated suicide, to end the game on my terms when I knew I could not complete the task I was given. But I moved on. I knew I was not going to end it by eliminating everyone else, but I would see it through to the end. I do not rage-quit. That's just not something I do. It is partially a matter of honour, although I do not know the words to describe it beyond that.
The game did not last much longer after that. I had had a good run... I had gotten used to the pivotal role of the game that we play. The people therein have taught me something, though. The old adage of "it's not how you win or lose, but how you play" holds true. How one plays the game can affect your entire experience. It certainly has for me.
Now, as I sit here in the gloomy rain, two memories continue to haunt me. First, that time in the early cycles, when I could have pulled the trigger too soon and did not. Second... Valentine's Day, when I accepted the cake, blushed a finer shade of red than the strawberries adorning the gift, and that evening, shot dead the girl who gave it to me. That night was one of torrential rain. Both from the clouds above and my own eyes. The reminder of that day is still in my fridge, still wrapped up in its box. Whoever finds it is welcome to it.
But now, I must say fare thee well, multiverse. I go now to my grave, following the path that is now that to which all roads lead. The mob shall not have me. It is now time to choose my next victim: myself. The cause of death, a single gunshot wound to the head. The weapon, the M9 pistol I keep in my desk.
I shall leave this document open to anyone who wishes to read it. They are welcome to do so.
In conclusion: If I am to be reborn in this endless cycle, it will be through slightly different eyes. I see things about the game of Serial Killer far clearer now than I have in the past.
Addendum: Though I know this last part will not be read by its intended recipient, I must say it anyway. To she who passed before me... I pray that I will be forgiven. If by no-one else, then her and her alone will bring peace to my spirit. I am truly sorry for my actions... though it is not often that we see a death caused by the victim's significant other.
Click-click.
*BLAM*