Serial Killer Round 39: Return of the Doubles Round (Cycle 12: We Have A Winner!)
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@[user]Trill And/Or Will[/user] That was highly relevant, and equally awesome. I can't wait for the next season.
I wonder what the intro is going to be like, though I don't expect it to be a new one. Which is good, because I like the current one. If you've read the books, you can read a lot of stuff from the symbolism in it.
I wonder what the intro is going to be like, though I don't expect it to be a new one. Which is good, because I like the current one. If you've read the books, you can read a lot of stuff from the symbolism in it.
Atticus walked onto the train, the raindrops slowly seeping into his skin as they dried off as soon as he entered the warmth of the indoors. He shook off any water on his hat and coat and folded his umbrella. As he walked up the stairs to the unreserved seats, Atticus could feel his cold fingers and legs absorb the heater that the train's heater gave off. The train car he walked into was empty. "Thank god" Atticus thought to himself. Time in public transportation has made him appreciate solitude whenever riding a bus or a train. He dropped down onto the nearest seat with a good view, not that it would matter. There was nothing to look at outside other than rain and the night sky. But he didn't care. He was going to leave Los Angeles now. It wasn't safe anymore.
The killer was on the loose. Last that Atticus heard was that he was on his way to his home city. Being the Medic, it would have been a big risk for him to stay. Maybe he could stay with his dad till the heat dies down, he thought. But maybe he that would have put a risk on his father, too, he wondered. Either way, Atticus didn't have time to think about consequences. He only had time to act and leaving Los Angeles was the best choice he could think of in such short time.
He felt much more relaxed as soon as the train started moving. Still no one on board. The ticket collector came up to Atticus and they exchanged the necessary papers to allow him on board. There was a sense of safety in the train car, considering how there was no one else there. Of course, that sense was shattered as soon as he noticed that the ticket collector stopped at one of the seats in front of him. She took the ticket from a figure obscured by one of the seats. "Well, okay" Atticus thought, "it's just one guy. Or girl, it's hard to tell. Either way, I'm getting way too jumpy. They're probably harmless." The figure got up and grabbed a seat closer to Atticus'. "Or not" he thought.
The figure was dressed in a black trench coat, with a matching black fedora. The figure's clothing was obscuring the face and body shape, so it was hard to identify what he or she looked like. The figure moved again, this time behind Atticus.
"Okay" he thought, "This is getting weird."
The ticket collector finally moved out of the train car. Atticus then felt the figure grab him from behind and put a knife to his throat. Atticus struggled, just managing to keep the blade away. His escape from death was futile. The killer had found him.
"So you're the little fucker whose been saving my victims!" the killer groaned into Atticus's ear.
"And you're the fucker whose been killing the people I'm saving!" Atticus responded.
"Cut the shit!" the killer yelled. "Do you know how much trouble you have caused me?! You've been a thorn in my side for too damn long! Now it's time for me to put an end to this, once and for all!"
Atticus could feel the blade just inching into his neck slowly. He didn't know what to do. Death was closing in on him and he had to let instinct take over.
"Ow! Fuck!" the killer yelled, dropping his knife and holding his bleeding hand. "You bit me!"
"When I fight, I fight dirty!" Atticus replied.
"Gah! You little fuck nugget! I'm gonna? wait, where is it?!"
"You mean this?" he said, pulling out the killer's knife.
They jumped out of their seats and lunged at each other, wrestling for the blade. Atticus managed to kick himself away with the knife still in hand. The killer then pulled out another blade.
"Good thing I carry extras!" he said, laughing.
They then promptly charged at each other. Atticus tackled the killer but he pulled and threw Atticus down to the ground. The killer pinned him to the floor but Atticus managed to knee him in the groin and throw a punch to his throat. He then pushed off the killer and got up. Atticus then tried stomping onto the killer, but he rolled off and got up as well. They both slashed at each other and pulled back as soon as their blades got close to them. Atticus then tried out right stabbing the killer, but he dodged the attack and his knife got caught in one of the seats. Atticus pulled and pulled to get the blade out, but the killer grabbed his arm and stabbed him in the wrist. He yelled and was kicked away by the killer. As he was lying on the floor, clenching his wrist, the killer tugged the knife out of the seat and slowly marched toward him.
"You fight well," the killer said, "but now it's time to end the petty annoyance that you have caused me!"
"How the hell did you find me?" Atticus questioned.
"I know where all of you and your friends live. Once I saw that one them started to leave town, I knew that he would be important enough to save himself. Like his life and all others depended on it. The Medic. But now I've found you and I'm gonna put an end to the only chance for your friends's survival!"
"Wait? 'Only'?"
"Yes, why?"
Atticus grinned. His time was coming to an end, but he was alright with that now. He began to laugh.
"What? Why are you laughing? I just destroyed any and all chances of your friends living! Stop laughing!"
"You didn't know?"
"Know what?"
"There's another?"
"What?!"
"Kill me and you'll do nothing. I don't know who this other Medic is, but damn it, he's doing a damn good job. I've done all I could, but now all I can do is rest. And I'm fine with that now, knowing that other Medic can save everyone else."
The killer got mad. He got furious. His attempts to end his irritation was futile. The killer lunged forward and stabbed Atticus right into the back of his neck and spine. He fell dead onto the ground but it did nothing. The killer craved satisfaction for this moment. He thought his misery would end. But now, the thought of another Medic made him tense.
He left the train car and got off the train as soon as he could. There was another Medic, and the hope that was thought to be dead for the killer's victims had risen again. The killer's chance of survival were fading. He was on the ropes.
The killer was on the loose. Last that Atticus heard was that he was on his way to his home city. Being the Medic, it would have been a big risk for him to stay. Maybe he could stay with his dad till the heat dies down, he thought. But maybe he that would have put a risk on his father, too, he wondered. Either way, Atticus didn't have time to think about consequences. He only had time to act and leaving Los Angeles was the best choice he could think of in such short time.
He felt much more relaxed as soon as the train started moving. Still no one on board. The ticket collector came up to Atticus and they exchanged the necessary papers to allow him on board. There was a sense of safety in the train car, considering how there was no one else there. Of course, that sense was shattered as soon as he noticed that the ticket collector stopped at one of the seats in front of him. She took the ticket from a figure obscured by one of the seats. "Well, okay" Atticus thought, "it's just one guy. Or girl, it's hard to tell. Either way, I'm getting way too jumpy. They're probably harmless." The figure got up and grabbed a seat closer to Atticus'. "Or not" he thought.
The figure was dressed in a black trench coat, with a matching black fedora. The figure's clothing was obscuring the face and body shape, so it was hard to identify what he or she looked like. The figure moved again, this time behind Atticus.
"Okay" he thought, "This is getting weird."
The ticket collector finally moved out of the train car. Atticus then felt the figure grab him from behind and put a knife to his throat. Atticus struggled, just managing to keep the blade away. His escape from death was futile. The killer had found him.
"So you're the little fucker whose been saving my victims!" the killer groaned into Atticus's ear.
"And you're the fucker whose been killing the people I'm saving!" Atticus responded.
"Cut the shit!" the killer yelled. "Do you know how much trouble you have caused me?! You've been a thorn in my side for too damn long! Now it's time for me to put an end to this, once and for all!"
Atticus could feel the blade just inching into his neck slowly. He didn't know what to do. Death was closing in on him and he had to let instinct take over.
"Ow! Fuck!" the killer yelled, dropping his knife and holding his bleeding hand. "You bit me!"
"When I fight, I fight dirty!" Atticus replied.
"Gah! You little fuck nugget! I'm gonna? wait, where is it?!"
"You mean this?" he said, pulling out the killer's knife.
They jumped out of their seats and lunged at each other, wrestling for the blade. Atticus managed to kick himself away with the knife still in hand. The killer then pulled out another blade.
"Good thing I carry extras!" he said, laughing.
They then promptly charged at each other. Atticus tackled the killer but he pulled and threw Atticus down to the ground. The killer pinned him to the floor but Atticus managed to knee him in the groin and throw a punch to his throat. He then pushed off the killer and got up. Atticus then tried stomping onto the killer, but he rolled off and got up as well. They both slashed at each other and pulled back as soon as their blades got close to them. Atticus then tried out right stabbing the killer, but he dodged the attack and his knife got caught in one of the seats. Atticus pulled and pulled to get the blade out, but the killer grabbed his arm and stabbed him in the wrist. He yelled and was kicked away by the killer. As he was lying on the floor, clenching his wrist, the killer tugged the knife out of the seat and slowly marched toward him.
"You fight well," the killer said, "but now it's time to end the petty annoyance that you have caused me!"
"How the hell did you find me?" Atticus questioned.
"I know where all of you and your friends live. Once I saw that one them started to leave town, I knew that he would be important enough to save himself. Like his life and all others depended on it. The Medic. But now I've found you and I'm gonna put an end to the only chance for your friends's survival!"
"Wait? 'Only'?"
"Yes, why?"
Atticus grinned. His time was coming to an end, but he was alright with that now. He began to laugh.
"What? Why are you laughing? I just destroyed any and all chances of your friends living! Stop laughing!"
"You didn't know?"
"Know what?"
"There's another?"
"What?!"
"Kill me and you'll do nothing. I don't know who this other Medic is, but damn it, he's doing a damn good job. I've done all I could, but now all I can do is rest. And I'm fine with that now, knowing that other Medic can save everyone else."
The killer got mad. He got furious. His attempts to end his irritation was futile. The killer lunged forward and stabbed Atticus right into the back of his neck and spine. He fell dead onto the ground but it did nothing. The killer craved satisfaction for this moment. He thought his misery would end. But now, the thought of another Medic made him tense.
He left the train car and got off the train as soon as he could. There was another Medic, and the hope that was thought to be dead for the killer's victims had risen again. The killer's chance of survival were fading. He was on the ropes.
The train ground to a slow, screeching stop, its wheels long overdue for maintenance but deliberately ignored by the stationmasters. People were crowding to get away from Murderville these past few days. Who's to fault them? The graves were piling up faster in a month then its annual birthrate.
The train car doors opened, and Schizzy was bowled over by a a figure rushing to get out. He let the event pass, forgiving the man his transgressions. With grace is such short supply now, it was all he could do. No need for adding more fuel to the hate-filled fires filling the streets.
The bell rang, indicating that the train was departing soon. Shaken out of his reverie, Schizzy dashed to catch the night's last ride home. He'd just managed to put his foot into the train. It squelched.
Blood.
Schizzy paled at the sight before him. Before him lay Atticus, drowning in a pool of his own blood.
So much blood.
It was almost too much.
Was there really that much blood in a person?
But a voice spoke to Schizzy. And it was familiar to him. They spoke just about every night. And all is said was this; "Greater love has no one than this; to lay down one's life for one's friends."
Gospel of John. Chapter fifteen. Verse thirteen.
This is it then. My life has led up to this. I know not how, but it has been divinely appointed. I just have to accept it. And I readily do.
He calls his wife. Tells her what he's about to do, his divine appointment. She pleads him to stay, to live but she knows he must do this. Atticus will achieve greater things than he. They say their goodbye's.
He speaks to his daughter. She knows not what he's about to do, nor will she understand it. But he sings her a last lullaby before she's put to bed. He kisses his family over the phone goodnight and goodbye.
Lord, I'm ready.
Wounds open up on Schizzy's body. It is slow and excruciating. The first appears on the wrist. Then second, and fatal wound, appears on the back of the neck. He falls to the ground, and he is drained of blood. Before he breathes his last, he sees colour return to Atticus, and his chest begin to rise and fall. He no longer sports the wounds he had before.
Schizzy had one last thought, hoping that Atticus could somehow hear it.
Do greater things than I.
The train car doors opened, and Schizzy was bowled over by a a figure rushing to get out. He let the event pass, forgiving the man his transgressions. With grace is such short supply now, it was all he could do. No need for adding more fuel to the hate-filled fires filling the streets.
The bell rang, indicating that the train was departing soon. Shaken out of his reverie, Schizzy dashed to catch the night's last ride home. He'd just managed to put his foot into the train. It squelched.
Blood.
Schizzy paled at the sight before him. Before him lay Atticus, drowning in a pool of his own blood.
So much blood.
It was almost too much.
Was there really that much blood in a person?
But a voice spoke to Schizzy. And it was familiar to him. They spoke just about every night. And all is said was this; "Greater love has no one than this; to lay down one's life for one's friends."
Gospel of John. Chapter fifteen. Verse thirteen.
This is it then. My life has led up to this. I know not how, but it has been divinely appointed. I just have to accept it. And I readily do.
He calls his wife. Tells her what he's about to do, his divine appointment. She pleads him to stay, to live but she knows he must do this. Atticus will achieve greater things than he. They say their goodbye's.
He speaks to his daughter. She knows not what he's about to do, nor will she understand it. But he sings her a last lullaby before she's put to bed. He kisses his family over the phone goodnight and goodbye.
Lord, I'm ready.
Wounds open up on Schizzy's body. It is slow and excruciating. The first appears on the wrist. Then second, and fatal wound, appears on the back of the neck. He falls to the ground, and he is drained of blood. Before he breathes his last, he sees colour return to Atticus, and his chest begin to rise and fall. He no longer sports the wounds he had before.
Schizzy had one last thought, hoping that Atticus could somehow hear it.
Do greater things than I.
Let my sacrifice not be in vain.
PS I probably I should've put more time into editing this, and I probably will later. But in the interest of time, I'm posting up my first draft. You get the gist.
@Schizzy: GO PRIEST POWERS GO!
I was worried that they weren't going to get used. Fortunately, it's looking like the trial run is a success.
I was worried that they weren't going to get used. Fortunately, it's looking like the trial run is a success.
@WP: That was great. Shame we almost lost a medic.
@Schizzy: First Priesting. Very interesting. Glad we got to see it get used this time.
@Schizzy: First Priesting. Very interesting. Glad we got to see it get used this time.
Atticus rose from the pool of blood that was drained from his body. The train car was still empty, with exception of another body. It was a colleague of his, nicknamed Schizzy. Atticus was confused. What is this, he wondered. Why is he alive and Schizzy dead? Why does he have the wounds that I previously had?
Then it hit him: Schizzy was one of the priests. He knew Atticus was one of the Medics and he sacrificed himself for the greater good.
He knew what he had to do. He could not let Schizzy's sacrifice go in vain. Atticus had no choice but to go on and do his best to stop the killer.
Before he left the train, he went down to Schizzy's body and whispered "I won't let you down."
Also, good to have you back on the Escapist. T'was weird without you... <_<
Then it hit him: Schizzy was one of the priests. He knew Atticus was one of the Medics and he sacrificed himself for the greater good.
He knew what he had to do. He could not let Schizzy's sacrifice go in vain. Atticus had no choice but to go on and do his best to stop the killer.
Before he left the train, he went down to Schizzy's body and whispered "I won't let you down."
Damn skippy!Redlin5 said:
Also, good to have you back on the Escapist. T'was weird without you... <_<
Well if the usergroup had announcements... >.<War Penguin said:
Good to be back although if I don't get this job this week I'll have to get suspended again... :S
Hey, I offered to be the game's announcer, but...Redlin5 said:
Nuuuuu... Your forum health bar can't take it anymore! D: