Dramatic Death Scenes!

Cricket
I thought I'd heard T.Mor's voice in a different tone . . . like he was . . . crying? I looked up as he left out the door, feeling sorry. "Wait..." I could hardly hear my own voice. And then T.Mor was gone. I just stared at where he used to be. He . . . when would he . . . how long?

Robin
I didn't care. Too tired to care. But I manage to crack my eyes open just a little to see her surprised face. "One the only," I murmur past the card in my chest, the laughs, the fogginess. "What'll you do with me gone? No more of our games, RC..." Not sure if I asked it or thought it. It's getting darker. My vision is blurring.

Mr.Face:

I walked back into the cell with My Hostage and My Prisoner in it. "Well. That lightened the mood." I grinned, opening my toolbox. Saws...Check. Exacto knives...Check. Dental floss...Check. "My Prisoner...This really does feel odd with no choices...Hmm..." I had another marvelous idea. "My Hostage...Where should I start?" Why not just invert the choice? Well...I would have to alternate so that one didn't die prematurely and limit my options...but...This would be fine.

Cricket
I was numbly silent for a moment. ". . . You lied," I heard myself say, and once again my voice didn't sound quite like me. "You never lie."

Spades
I pulled up a chair and sat on it, putting my arms up on the table and watching him. "Hm.... I dunno. Get a hobby or something?" I chuckled humorlessly. "Ya know what, Boy Wonder? I think I may miss you and our fun"

Mr.Face:

"He committed treason...I can reciprocate can't I?" I asked with a grin. "A deception for a deception...I am entitled to an algebraeic maintenence of deceit...aren't I?" I replied to My Prisoner.

T.Mor:

Well...If I killed them...No. Friends don't kill friends...But I didn't want to die...And...my sister...But...If I did...No. No I can't...Ugh...

Peter

Wha...what had he said?! He...he wanted me to pick?! N-no...I couldn't! I...I couldn't pick which way Cricket would... Argh!

Robin
The laughter starts dying down, the smile staying. It feels more like a halfhearted smirk to me, though. She doesn't get it, does she? Why the Joker keeps her around... To deal with me, and now that I'm gone... "I...I'm scared...for you..." I murmur. Words barely audible as my vision tunnels and my eyes close again. Like sleep, only I know I'm not going to wake up.

Cricket
I couldn't respond to that. He was entitled to anything he wanted. He was Mr. Face. We were his property, and he could do anything he wanted . . . we were hopeless. And I couldn't stop looking at his grin, watching it in the way someone would watch someone dying. It's not pleasant. Scarring. But then, I couldn't look away. And I didn't care. The game was over.

I finally dropped my head, and more words quietly slipped out. "You're right."

I was thinking about that...

Spades
"What's that supposed to mean?'' I muttered, then realized Robin was past responding. I quickly took his pulse, and found that he was still living, but barely. He would slip away soon...
"Goodnight, Richie" I murmured softly

BECAUSE I'M BATMAN!
nehhhh....insecure.... *to third person*

Batman pauses, a stoic face looking down upon Gotham from the skyscraper he stood at. Dick hasn't reported in as he had instructed him which started the suspicion, which only grew when he couldn't get a lock on his locator. Only more when Dick didn't show up at their scheduled meeting place. Shouldn't have split up... The trail had gone dead, and all Bats could do was survey the city for any sign of him or whoever might have taken him.

Mr.Face:

"Of course I'm right." I told My Prisoner calmly. "I'm always right about things like this. Mr.Namechov decieved me, and therefore, I have the right to decieve him in return. It's not astrophysics." I told him. "My Hostage...You have not answered my question. Where should I start?" I asked, trying not to sound annoyed by his lack of response.

T.Mor:

If I was going to kill them...It would just be to buy myself enough time to get my affairs in order with my sister...and then...erm...I'd go...get someone to shoot me or something. But...I'd still be killing my friends. But...Then my sister wouldn't die. But...Then...My friends would have thought I was betraying them. Maybe they wouldn't be mad at me for it...No. No. You don't kill your friends. I learned that once. Somewhere...
I kicked a wall in frustration. Good thing I wasn't stuck to the wall, or that would have been an impossible feat. It unsurprisingly did not help me decide anything...except that kicking walls still hurt...even through steel toed combat boots.
I'd stopped crying a moment ago...Shortly before kicking the wall. I was a shaky mess still though...Internet...what do I do?

Peter

"I...I don't know!" I snapped. "Y-you...you can't make me decide!"

There was...just no way! I couldn't...couldn't do this...

Mr.Face:

"You don't seem to be grasping the situation. I can make you decide. And you will. So...Do it. Or do I have to give you further options? I mean, I was under the impression that you sort of knew how this went, but if you want the tutorial...I will be...happy... to oblige." I told My Hostage frustratedly.

Cricket
My eyes turned to Peter, only one thought in my head. I didn't care. It was over. Don't worry, and please, please, don't make it worse . . .

Peter

"I...I can't decide!" I told him. "Fine. Do whatever you want to me. I don't care."

Maybe I could get him to kill me first...if I got him angry enough...

Mr.Face:

"You do not seem to understand how this works...At ALL." I informed him. "This is not going to be a nice...pleasant...one at a time while I force you to watch type thing. Oh no. Then...One of you would be dead...And...Really...Where is the fun in killing you off seperately in the same room? I am doing this in rotations. I have the time. You are not going first. So...I suppouse...I will make this...somewhat easier for you. Where should I begin? Arms or legs?" I tried to lay this out as plainly as I could. It was somewhat frustrating, because I knew that it wasn't that he wasn't giving me an answer as a result of a deficiency in brain cells, but as a result of...some kind of....I am unsure...caring or something. This was entertaining. And that is why I put up with it for a bit.

Peter

I froze up, stammering. How could...? No, I...I...!

"Fff...fine! I don't know! Legs!" I hung my head, shutting my eyes tightly. "I'm sorry, Cricket..."

Cricket

I braced myself, eyes still softly on him. "I'll accept that apology if you'll except mine when it's your turn..." I murmered.

Mr.Face:

"Thank you..." I said calmly...leaning over to my toolbox. Exacto knives...bonesaw...Right. Perfect. I peeled off My Prisoner's imposter boots, and cut the imposter pants up to about the knee. I was very tempted to put a couple lacerations into the sould of his feet...Just because that always got a good reaction. But I had skin to remove..and bones to saw...And that all took skill. And I didn't want to be going into that with my hands already bloody...I could have dropped something. I used my exacto knife to make a large gash aling the side of his shin bone, and just started peeling away at the flesh there...Complete disregard for all that muscle was strange for me...But I wanted to find ...ah. There it was. Bone. Fun, Fun.
I reached for my saw.

Cricket

I squeezed my eyes shut, choking on a scream as he started ripping me apart. Fiery white-hot pain clawed through my leg, and I couldn't help whimper when there was one final tear. My head spun. I couldn't scream, not in front of Peter. When nothing happened for a few seconds, I opened my eyes...and saw Mr. Face with his saw.

Peter

I shut my eyes...I just couldn't bear to look. Not after... I felt sick to my stomach, and it wasn't from the gore that I knew must've been gathering on that floor; it was the knowledge that this was Cricket's gore...and that it was my fault that it wasn't inside of him.

"Bastard..." I growled at Mr. Face.

Mr.Face:

"My Hostage...You are improperly using the word..." I told him conversationally. I turned back toward My Prisoner's leg. "You don't have to be quiet..although I appreciate that you are trying to hide all this from Mr.Namechov...But he is across the hall. He cannot hear us." I explained casually, sawing away at the bone. I was just trying to create a crevice along the shin bone so that I could scrape out the marrow with yet another exacto knife. I loved my exacto knives. "Really. I assure you...Nobody but My Hostage... the girl in the cell three cells down, and I can hear you scream." I continued as I worked. This was fun.

Peter

"It's an insult," I spat. "I know I'm not using it by its definition... No one does. But fine! You asshole. Is that better?"

I was quickly transitioning from hopelessness to bitter anger. Of course...that wasn't atypical for me.

Mr.Face:

"Yes. Much improved." I replied, grinning. I took a moment to wipe the blood off the serrated edge of my saw, once I had determined I could proceed with scraping. I did not want it to rust too badly...That would be inconvenient. I picked up a narrower exacto knife, and began scraping out marrow. This...This was actually quite nice. I should remove bone marrow more often.