Dramatic Death Scenes!

Cricket let himself quietly breathe for a moment, trying to calm his heartbeat. He only glanced once at the box of tools before focusing on the light sliver on the door once again. This might be the most pain-free moment to enjoy in a long time. "Could you let me down off this wall? That's my interaction."

"That unfortunately is not a viable option. I'm going to invite you to choose again, or your ability to choose will be voided, and I will simply continue with whatever I think will ilicit the most earshattering screams. Really, It's in your favour to pick something." Mr.Face said calmly. He was switching out the blades on the exacto knives for sharper ones, all while still 'looking' at Cricket. A scream pierced the silence.

"I know, I was only curious. I'm not from around 'ere, but thought I'd stop by for a visit," Crooks said, shrugging. He talked to him like they were long-lost friends. He stuck his three-finger hand out to shake. "Crooks. What do they call you?"

T.Mor didn't even give the missing fingers a second glance. It was all too common in Guards to be missing bits and pieces like that. He shook the hand hesitantly. "I'm T.Mor. And I have to question your tastes...deciding to stop here for a visit." He remarked, looking at the insane amount of poverty that surrounded him, even here. This was the good part of town and it was still falling apart.

The scream sent a spark of electricity up Cricket's back. It was odd; Mr. Face's teeth flashed in the most hypnotizing way as he spoke. Cricket decided that if he got out of here alive, it wouldn't be the man's nonexistant face that would haunt him. It would be that smile. "I...knives," he said suddenly. "The knives."

"Ooh. Excellent choice. I hold a certain fondness for exacto knives as well..." Mr.Face grinned further. "Hands or feet? Well...If you want complete honesty, the choice is really 'arms or feet' but it just doesn't have the same...ring to it." Mr.Face said casually, standing up. It was awkward for him, as he was dangerously close to the cieling for being so tall.

Crooks chuckled. "Well, I'm a collector. I used t' see a place like this and pass it by, but, that was b'fore I learned that...it's often th' broken places that 'ave th' most story behind them." He smiled, and seemed to gaze off into thoughts for a moment. Suddenly he looked back at T.Mor "Ever 'eard of...diamond in th' rough? I like...things with...meaning. And, since those masks 'old such a purpose in this place...I 'ave sixty rectangles. I'll buy it from you."

T.Mor's eyes practically popped from their sockets. Sixty? He could eat every day for the next month! TWICE! And...feed his sister. And...Pay for the house! And...Wow. He could almost start saving something for a future from what was left of his paycheck after the taxes. "That's...That's a lot." T.Mor said inarticulately. "Like...A lot a lot." He almost couldn't get past the number. "Erm." He remembered the only thing that was wrong with the proposed exchange. This was his only mask. He would be in a world of trouble for selling it...Possibly even killed. He ran through about 7 scenarios in his head regarding work the next day. They all involved him getting killed for mutiny, or at the very least tortured. "I would be in so much trouble for that." He said seriously. "Like...I would love to, really. I would. But..." He exhaled conflictedly.

Cricket watched in fascination as the smile curled even more. It was like a shark smile..."Ah, not t' be taken th' wrong way at all, but you 'ave an enourmous mouth," he commented. Anything to distract from the situation at hand.

"Now I understand completely if you can't," Crooks said. "I can always find another mask to buy, of course. But think about this; once I leave your sight, you're not going t' fiind me again." He cocked an eyebrow. "What'll it be?"

Mr.Face-

Mr.Face's grin extended even further at that, if it was at all possible. "Most people are labouring under the preconcieved notion that I eat babies with it. Since you won't survive to spread the rumour, I can safely tell you, that I do not. You still have not provided an answer. Arms or feet?"

T.Mor-

"I...I..." T.Mor was more torn than he ever had been in his life. This wasn't a clearly cut out decision. Maybe he'd survive the torture at work the next day. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe. He could go on like that all night. "Ok...erm. Can we do this inside? I don't want any co-workers getting wind of this before they have to..." T.Mor decided, again putting the well being of his sister before himself. Who cared if he was killed the next day if His sister could live comfortably for another 2 months?

Crooks nodded understandingly. "Sure, I get your situation 'ere. Inside where, exactly?"

T.Mor-

"Erm..." Where could he go?Where could he...His house wasn't a safe place to be, his sister would be there to screw crap up, as usual. There was the shop across the street...had been abandoned since he was 6. That could work... "Come on." T.Mor said, leading him further down the narrow road. He turned off at an impossibly skinny alley, and stopped in front of a terribly decomposing brownstone building. Windows were boarded, the door had two big rotting boards nailed across...It had been forgotten by the property repo men. T.Mor pulled on one fo the boards and the rusty nails gave way, the board came away easily, and the other one, it turned out was simply being held in place by the first. T.Mor opened the door. "You first." He said, holding it open all gentlemanly like.

"Arms." They were going numb from the chains anyway. Cricket let his head fall, staring at his feet rather than matching Mr. Face's unstare. Even though he knew the man was blind, there was still that feeling of being studied. He'd said he could hear people's breathing, heartbeats...it was an eerie thing to wonder if someone could hear his heartbeat or not.

Crooks meandered inside looking around. "Looks safe enough...a'right, 'ave you made up your mind, then?" He winked. "If anybody asks, I stole it."

Mr.Face-

"Not as many nerves...what a shame. Still...I am a man of my word." Mr.Face said simply. He turned and pulled the bench over. Standing for things such as these was tedious for him, due to to the difference in porportions. He sat, looking very casual about the whole thing. "If this is anything short of excruciating...Tell me. I appreciate your imput." Mr.Face said before beginning with several evenly spaced surface level cuts across Cricket's arm. He continued, turning tthe paralell lines into rectangles up to Cricket's elbow. "I hope you don't mind the loss of your skin..." He stated, before peeling the first rectangle back with the same speed as you'd pull off a bandaid.

T.Mor-

"Really? You'd...You'd lie like that for me?" This guy REALLY wasn't from around here. The penalty for a theft like that was slow, excruciating death at the hands of Mr.Face. "Ok. Look. I'll sell it to you." T.Mor said bluntly. "I need the money, and Mr.Face is having a good week." T.Mor continued.

A smile grew on Crooks' face. "Good, good. I appreciate it." He felt around in his pocket for the 'rectangles', and pulled a knife out along with them. Admiring it, he held it up and twirled it between his three fingers. "Such as this. See this knife? It doesn't look like much, aye?" His blue eyes flashed back to T.Mor. "Just...a...knife. Would you like t' know what makes it valuable? It's...well...it's 'ow I acquired it." He grinned, twirling the knife once more so it landed in a point to the mask. "Th' same applies."

T.Mor-

The knife made T.Mor incredibly uneasy, but he couldn't really say why. He had no reason at this point to distrust the guy...but still...it just didn't sit right. "Erm...May I ask how you got it then?" T.Mor asked cautiously.

Cricket locked his jaw and swallowed a scream as biting pain cut through his arm. He was certain Mr. Nobody could hear his heart racing now; he could hear it himself. Just breathe. He tried to ignore the dripping blood, and his skin being torn off at the seams, or the fact that he might not make it out of there alive...oh. God. It hit him. He was going to die there in that room...he'd never see anything outside of those walls again. What about a new life? Going to see the world, something that, for a while, he thought he might actually do someday. Where was Finn? And Winnie? They'd never know what happened. And what...what about Leah? He took a slow breath. What about Leah...

Crooks grinned. "Ah...see that, see that. You don't know...do you?" He twirled his knife again, and held out the money invitingly.

Mr.Face-
Mr.Face 'looked' at him. "You demonstrate a high level of resilience by withholding your screams in this way. It's not as fun though..." Mr.Face commented, fingers running lightly over the exposed flesh. " I reccomend not continuing to forcibly silence yourself...you may inadvertently bite off your toungue with this next bit..." Mr.Face ran the exacto knife against the grains of the muscles in Cricket's arm...almost like some kind of apple peeler.

T.Mor-

"Of course I don't know...It's why I asked..." T.Mor held out the mask, still feeling uneasy.

A scream swelled in Cricket's chest, and he clamped down on his tongue to force it down. He didn't trust himself to breath. But eventually he had to find air, and his strain died out into a soft whimper. "I...I don't...scream." He managed, and clenched his jaw closed again. Something salty was in his mouth.

Crooks continued to hold the money out, cocking his head invitingly.

Mr.Face-

"See. You bit your toungue didn't you?" Mr.Face reprimanded as though he were not talking to a prisoner, but to a small child. "Hmm...You have a very nice carpal tunnel. No typing damage or anything..."He commented, slicing through some muscle carelessly to get to the ligaments that ran down Cricket's arm. "I hope you write with the other hand..." He added, looking up from his work. He had some spatter across his unface. "You may really want to reconsider the screaming..." He said again, before pulling the ligaments a bit. Not enough to detach, but enough to cause pain, maybe some tearing in Cricket's finger muscles.

T.Mor-

T.Mor took it, leaving the mask hanging out in between them. He may have been a murderer, but at least he kept to his word.

Cricket's back arched with tension, and a growl pushed through his throat. The screaming pain was made worse by the fact that he was only held up by his wrists. It felt like his arm was a rope holding a weight, and it was slowly being cut down to a thread. He squeezed his eyes shut. Please, let me down, let me down... He didn't want to think about how much it hurt. He wanted to think about anything else, get a nice flashback of his life like it happens in movies. But the pain blocked everything else out, making him dizzy. "I-I don't--" He held his breath again.