Serial Killer Round 63: La Fiesta de la Muerte! | C'est fini!
- Thread starter Malbourne
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Caramel Frappe said:
I don't recall seeing a round take this long to get off the ground, which is an odd change after the last several.DoPo said:
*Sniff*...Eeeeehhhhhhhhhhh...I guess. I may be able to poke Taco, Eclipse and T0ad into it as well if we're lucky.
"Look at them. Partying." I thought while looking at the partying people.
Immediately a thought flashed into my head and anger rose "Goddamn it, I just repeated myself" I scolded, well, myself "Fuck. Wait, wasn't there a literature technique where you repeated what you said?"
After a brief consideration, I realised I suck at literature theory as I could only think of framing and alliteration both of which were something different "Well, damn. I'm not that good at literature. Heck, come to think of it, I actually hate literature. I'd much prefer to read a good book."
"For fuck's sake, I'm getting sidetracked" I cast my gaze back at the celebration, the fiesta they called it around these parts. "Look at them. Partying. Not caring for anything. When there is a killer on the loose." somebody spilled a drink causing a slight commotion and drawing laughter from several people who saw it. "The killer is vicious and ruthless but they don't care. They just want to have fun." I smiled "This would be their downfall."
For it was me. I was the killer. And I would make my move. Erm, soon, at least. Let me just finish my drink.
See, I am not one you'd call a prolific killer. I personally prefer to call myself careful, considerate, or meticulous, even if others might use other words to describe my career. Well, most of those words would be a variation on failure.
It all started many years ago when I first took steps towards my career as a murderer. Well, it was a hobby back then. I had decided on my first victim, chosen my weapon, I had a plan for how things were going to go down, how to escape and everything. And then I never managed to find the damn guy. It turned out he moved to another city, like, two weeks prior. Thus escaping his fate.
The next person I marked for execution turned out knew karate or some shit and kicked my ass. I spent a week in the hospital and everything hurt for at least a month afterwards.
So, I began planning better, expecting the unexpected. But...well, I didn't manage to "score" anybody. One time, rain prevented the murder, another the knife I had just fell apart when I pulled it out (I tried to return it after but it was out of warranty), yet another the victim's dog turned quite vicious for a Yorkshire Terrier. And another one had a really vicious cat. I've also had vehicle malfunctions, various mishaps and random problems, as well as running into goddamn squirrels on the job. One time I had my gun trained on my victim and a fucking meteor landed between us two, so she managed to escape. When I tried to corner somebody into their house by breaking into it, it turned out the mafia had the exact same idea. Also, the guy apparently owed them money.
If I didn't know better, I'd have said the universe conspired against me. I mean, I couldn't even get Mr Jones. And he was a fucking goner for sure. So, here's what happened - few years back, I got fed up with constant failures and in a fit of desperation, I decided to pick an easy target - I wanted somebody, anybody to die due to my involvement. I went to a retirement home, asked around and found the oldest, most frail person there. Mr Jones had fought in a bunch of wars, probably had more bullet holes throughout his life than a good swiss cheese. He was blind with one eye, and deaf with one ear, bedridden and was going to have a major operation just the same week. His doctors estimated his chance of survival to be roughly equivalent to, and I quite "a miracle". And they were giving him a year, even if the operation wasn't necessary.I thought he was perfect - didn't even need to do anything - just wait and he'd be dead. Well, tough luck - he had his 110th birthday two weeks ago. I sent him a card as well. I mean, I hoped I could have given him a heart attack or something.
The commotion from the spilt drink had died down. I took another sip of mine. Most of it was gone. As my victim's would life soon be. I touched the knife in my pocket.
I prefer weapons. OK, they haven't done me any good, granted, but still. There is this lunatic around who apparently summons fucking zombies or whatever to kill. That's cheating. If you ain't gonna do it yourself, you should just leave it. But I persist. It's a trusty thing I have in my pocket - it's not out of warranty (I checked twice), the grip is grippy, so there is no chance to drop it or for it to slip out, it is reinforced steel, so it doesn't suffer "malfunctions" (had that happen, as well), I've got a bottle of water in my jacket in case it bursts into fire (had that happen as well. Don't ask), and it's actually enchanted with magic to make it always hit. You can't imagine how hard was to get that - magicians that know how to do actual magic turns out are pretty fucking rare. The good ones that don't whose enchantments do not summon random demons when you wield the weapon turn out to be rarer still. I wouldn't have minded the other magicians so much if the demons didn't choose to go after me.
Three sips left.
I had this victim marked since the earlier this evening. I decided that overanalyzing things may hinder me, so I'm just going with the flow now. I picked somebody and I'm going to finally murder tonight. I didn't even see their face - and underneath all those clothes I can't even make out if it's a woman or a man. No matter, I will find soon enough.
My victim starts to move. I down my drink.
I follow them as they leave and clutch the weapon in my pocket.
It seems my victim saw me. They picked up the pace. So did I. They started running. I tripped. Fuck it - get up, pull out the knife and sprint.
Here is the corner that they turned, I go and...
...there is nobody there. I mean, it's not "oh, they may have hidden" - there is nobody there. There couldn't be - it's a dead end. No hiding place in sight. What the hell...
...and I fell face down to the ground. Something collided with me beforehand. And then it pinned me down. Couldn't see anything but what was on ground in front of me. A voice behind me yelled "GOT HIM!". I think I may have vaguely recognised it. Another one started talking - mentioned my name. Said something about "suspect" and "recent killings" and "just retribution" or something. I didn't listen very closely.
I wanted to squeeze my knife but turned out it wasn't in my hand any more. Whoever had me pinned may have plucked it from my grasp. I had to do with just squeezing my fist. For in front of me laid something. A book. I recognised it. It was the Necrotelecomnomicon it just laid there. It was an artefact that allowed communication with the dead. It was what somebody could use to summon, like, fucking zombies to kill people for them.
"Fuck me" I said for I think I had just tried to kill the Killer. Or at least I tried to say that - I felt a blade, probably my blade, plunge into me. This made me realise whoever was behind me was still talking - the last words I heard were "sentenced to execution" before everything slipped into darkness.
Immediately a thought flashed into my head and anger rose "Goddamn it, I just repeated myself" I scolded, well, myself "Fuck. Wait, wasn't there a literature technique where you repeated what you said?"
After a brief consideration, I realised I suck at literature theory as I could only think of framing and alliteration both of which were something different "Well, damn. I'm not that good at literature. Heck, come to think of it, I actually hate literature. I'd much prefer to read a good book."
"For fuck's sake, I'm getting sidetracked" I cast my gaze back at the celebration, the fiesta they called it around these parts. "Look at them. Partying. Not caring for anything. When there is a killer on the loose." somebody spilled a drink causing a slight commotion and drawing laughter from several people who saw it. "The killer is vicious and ruthless but they don't care. They just want to have fun." I smiled "This would be their downfall."
For it was me. I was the killer. And I would make my move. Erm, soon, at least. Let me just finish my drink.
See, I am not one you'd call a prolific killer. I personally prefer to call myself careful, considerate, or meticulous, even if others might use other words to describe my career. Well, most of those words would be a variation on failure.
It all started many years ago when I first took steps towards my career as a murderer. Well, it was a hobby back then. I had decided on my first victim, chosen my weapon, I had a plan for how things were going to go down, how to escape and everything. And then I never managed to find the damn guy. It turned out he moved to another city, like, two weeks prior. Thus escaping his fate.
The next person I marked for execution turned out knew karate or some shit and kicked my ass. I spent a week in the hospital and everything hurt for at least a month afterwards.
So, I began planning better, expecting the unexpected. But...well, I didn't manage to "score" anybody. One time, rain prevented the murder, another the knife I had just fell apart when I pulled it out (I tried to return it after but it was out of warranty), yet another the victim's dog turned quite vicious for a Yorkshire Terrier. And another one had a really vicious cat. I've also had vehicle malfunctions, various mishaps and random problems, as well as running into goddamn squirrels on the job. One time I had my gun trained on my victim and a fucking meteor landed between us two, so she managed to escape. When I tried to corner somebody into their house by breaking into it, it turned out the mafia had the exact same idea. Also, the guy apparently owed them money.
If I didn't know better, I'd have said the universe conspired against me. I mean, I couldn't even get Mr Jones. And he was a fucking goner for sure. So, here's what happened - few years back, I got fed up with constant failures and in a fit of desperation, I decided to pick an easy target - I wanted somebody, anybody to die due to my involvement. I went to a retirement home, asked around and found the oldest, most frail person there. Mr Jones had fought in a bunch of wars, probably had more bullet holes throughout his life than a good swiss cheese. He was blind with one eye, and deaf with one ear, bedridden and was going to have a major operation just the same week. His doctors estimated his chance of survival to be roughly equivalent to, and I quite "a miracle". And they were giving him a year, even if the operation wasn't necessary.I thought he was perfect - didn't even need to do anything - just wait and he'd be dead. Well, tough luck - he had his 110th birthday two weeks ago. I sent him a card as well. I mean, I hoped I could have given him a heart attack or something.
The commotion from the spilt drink had died down. I took another sip of mine. Most of it was gone. As my victim's would life soon be. I touched the knife in my pocket.
I prefer weapons. OK, they haven't done me any good, granted, but still. There is this lunatic around who apparently summons fucking zombies or whatever to kill. That's cheating. If you ain't gonna do it yourself, you should just leave it. But I persist. It's a trusty thing I have in my pocket - it's not out of warranty (I checked twice), the grip is grippy, so there is no chance to drop it or for it to slip out, it is reinforced steel, so it doesn't suffer "malfunctions" (had that happen, as well), I've got a bottle of water in my jacket in case it bursts into fire (had that happen as well. Don't ask), and it's actually enchanted with magic to make it always hit. You can't imagine how hard was to get that - magicians that know how to do actual magic turns out are pretty fucking rare. The good ones that don't whose enchantments do not summon random demons when you wield the weapon turn out to be rarer still. I wouldn't have minded the other magicians so much if the demons didn't choose to go after me.
Three sips left.
I had this victim marked since the earlier this evening. I decided that overanalyzing things may hinder me, so I'm just going with the flow now. I picked somebody and I'm going to finally murder tonight. I didn't even see their face - and underneath all those clothes I can't even make out if it's a woman or a man. No matter, I will find soon enough.
My victim starts to move. I down my drink.
I follow them as they leave and clutch the weapon in my pocket.
It seems my victim saw me. They picked up the pace. So did I. They started running. I tripped. Fuck it - get up, pull out the knife and sprint.
Here is the corner that they turned, I go and...
...there is nobody there. I mean, it's not "oh, they may have hidden" - there is nobody there. There couldn't be - it's a dead end. No hiding place in sight. What the hell...
...and I fell face down to the ground. Something collided with me beforehand. And then it pinned me down. Couldn't see anything but what was on ground in front of me. A voice behind me yelled "GOT HIM!". I think I may have vaguely recognised it. Another one started talking - mentioned my name. Said something about "suspect" and "recent killings" and "just retribution" or something. I didn't listen very closely.
I wanted to squeeze my knife but turned out it wasn't in my hand any more. Whoever had me pinned may have plucked it from my grasp. I had to do with just squeezing my fist. For in front of me laid something. A book. I recognised it. It was the Necrotelecomnomicon it just laid there. It was an artefact that allowed communication with the dead. It was what somebody could use to summon, like, fucking zombies to kill people for them.
"Fuck me" I said for I think I had just tried to kill the Killer. Or at least I tried to say that - I felt a blade, probably my blade, plunge into me. This made me realise whoever was behind me was still talking - the last words I heard were "sentenced to execution" before everything slipped into darkness.
tl;dr; You've dun goofed.
Also, I didn't realise it turned out that long.
I tried it once. It was really annoying - I was sitting there and it was buzzing, and buzzing. So I finally snapped - I tried to hunt it down and eliminate it however it kept slipping away. After a few minutes the damn thing just landed on the ceiling[footnote]or whatever the appropriate verb is for something to cling to the ceiling upside down after flying[/footnote] - I was in a tall cabin where it was actually too high for me to reach up there. I took off a shoe and threw it at the infernal insect but it didn't even flinch. And I missed, of course. Well, I did hit my face with the shoe, but I don't think that counts. Weirdly, it buzzed as if just to annoy me. I shoutedAerosteam said:
"What the fuck do you want from me?" while collecting my shoe. And it spoke. It fucking answered. It said, and I swear, it's true:
"I need about three fiddy." It's at this point I noticed that "fly" eight stories tall and was a crustacean from the plethazoic era. So I cursed the damn Loch Ness monster and decided to wait for my floor in silence.
...
I know where the door is, don't worry.
Well, there is the Lawyer. And the Killer, obviously.kingofkumquats said:
Related to the quote again: I was one of the two Entwined before Dragonbums was no more.
You sound suspiciously happy. What are you hiding? WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?!kingofkumquats said:
@DoPo: I meant good roles. I also forgot about the entwined. Also I'm dead. I can root for whoever I want now. If the killer doesn't win by this point, I'll be shocked.
So unless I missed something, you were the killer!?DoPo said:
THE BASED BOTTLE knew it from the beginning! You were its first accusee! And I said it, too, "A PRIIIME SUSPECT" I said!
I'm telling you all, I knew it all along, I just abstained from telling you due to highly admirable levels of self-doubt!
I'm a genius! A modest GENIUS!
But not as smart as the bottle.
*covers bottle's ears*sky14kemea said: