Dramatic Death Scenes!

Mr.Face:

This was unanticipated. "Your previous actions speak exponentially louder than your accent ridden words, My Prisoner. Forgive me for my inability to take this seriously. It feels to me as though you may be trolling." I paused for effect. "I don't appreciate trolls." I stated calmly, still not turning to the filing cabinet. I sat there calmly, with my fingers steepled, and allowed a grin to curl across my face. If he was tolling...I wondered how far I could push him before he admitted to the act.

Evil!Cricket

I watched his grin a moment, completely expressionless. Previous actions. I wondered what "I" had done in the past, precisely. "I can prove it t' you," I said, matching his calm tone. "Name a job."

Mr.Face:

Ooh. This would be...amusing. The grin expanded further. I turned to the filing cabinet, feeling through the textured tabs for my scheduling section. "Alright...I will...Just let me find..." Once I pulled out that whole stack of paper, I felt through the pages looking for a...Ah, yes.
"On block three you will find a Mr.Namechov, presumably being...excessively elliptical in whatever he's doing. Your proof is his demise." I stated. "Stop by uniforms on your way down and pick up a plastic mask. Additionally, Cell three in Cellblock five is unoccupied, and allow me to get you some supplies." I continued grinning as I dished all this information out to him. If he was trolling...No way out now. And if not...Well, I'd be listening, and that in itself would be a fascinating thing to eavesdrop on. I stood up to get to my toolbox stock closet. It was amazing how many exacto knives one went through in a profession like mine.

Evil!Cricket

Ah, Mr. Namechov. That sounded familiar, somehow . . . aye, I think I'd seen it floating around in my author's brain every once in a while. Well. Here went everything. I nodded. "In case you can't see, I'm nodding. Aye. I've seen all this b'fore . . ." Actually, that was a lie. I'd seen glimpses of it; snippets of conversation, memories, the works. It was close enough.

Mr.Face:

In case I couldn't see? What did he think I was...deaf? My Prisoner already knew I was echolocative...The comment struck me as odd. I decided to let it slide for the moment though, and went ahead to pack him a box. Ah the classics...Bonesaw, check. Exacto knives, Check. Phillips head screwdriver, check. Metal files, check. I threw in a roll of string, a towel, and pliers as well, just in case. All this was dropped into my secondary toolbox, and quickly handed off to My Prisoner. "Have fun."

Evil!Cricket

I felt the weight of the toolbox in my hand. This was going to be interesting, all right. I left swiftly, without another word, and continued that way down the hallways until I found the paper-doll uniforms. They all looked exactly the same. Now who was the idiot that dreamed that up? Score for intimidation, but oi my my . . . if I wanted to, I could simply walk out of the building wearing that uniform, and no one would stop me, legitimate guard or not. But, I didn't want to leave, now did I?
It didn't take too long to find Cellblock Three, but it was longer than I would have liked. The place was a maze by itself.

Riddle:

STUPID BRICK WOULDN'T BLOODY LIGHT ON FIRE. I'D TRIED TOOTHPASTE AND EVERYTHING.
Some guy came downstairs with a toolbox. Not just any toolbox. the secondary toolbox. HE WASN'T MY FATHER, OR DARTH VADER. WHAT WAS THE MEANING OF THIS?
I went back to the brick, having lost interest. "YOU ARE GOING TO BE ON FIRE AND YOU ARE GOING TO LIKE IT MISTER BRICK."

Evil!Cricket

What the holy hell? Well, it didn't sound like ellipses . . . or a Mr, for that matter. "Do you know where Mr. Namechov is?" I asked smoothly, over her yelling. It was surprising how easy that was to say. I remembered a time where I probably would have choked on my words, despite the fact I didn't know the guy, just because I was about to kill him.

Riddle:

NOTDARTHVADER SPOKE TO ME.
hmm.
Ok...
"OH. T.MOR? YEAH! COME ON." And I abandoned the stupid brick to take this faceless dude to T.Mor.
I saw him walk out of a cell a bit of a ways down the hall, looking all...EMPLOYED. I practically ran up to him. "HEY YOU. Uhm...Some faceless guy is looking for you. He's not darth vader." I informed him all...INFORMATIVELY.
"...ok..." He seemed...well, actually just like normal. I think. I could never tell between all those dots in his words.
"DARTH VADER IMPOSTER! COME ON." I called behind me, kinda forgetting why I was down here in the first place.

Evil!Cricket

I walked swiftly up to him, ready to lie shamelessly . . . and quietly, as if making sure no one else would hear. "T.Mor? Is that you, mate?"

T.Mor:

And then Riddle trailed off to...I don't even pretend to know where. That girl...Was missing a mind that was probably once hers...maybe.
And then I heard the voice behind the mask. "Cricket?...What...What are you...You shouldn't..." I almost headwalled right then and there...Last time Cricket had done this, it ended badly...Really...Really badly..." You need to...like...get out of here...or...uhm...something....uh..." I stated, the starving guy I had just shot was pushed from my mind, because...well...Cricket seemed to take precedence, I guess...This friendship thing was still taking some getting used to.

Evil!Cricket

It's the strangest feeling, when a stranger talks to you like a good friend. It was easy to lie, but with every word I wondered who he was. I'd died with him --or, near him-- once. I knew that much.

"No time, T.Mor, you've got t' follow me . . . a'right? It's 'ard t' explain, but I promise, everything will make sense soon." My voice was pleading just a tad.

T.Mor:

"Uhm...Can...Can you...explain and walk...at the same time?" I realised this meant walking out of my shift early...And apparently, was willing to suffer the consequences for that...For...something I wasn't even properly aware of at the moment.
Huh..." Uhm...Which...Which exit are we using?" I asked, not worrying about Mr.Face hearing me...Since Riddle had just been down here, He wouldn't be...Their relationship was...freaky like that.

Mr.Face:

I waited a moment before walking down to cellblock five and sitting down on a workbench in a cell on the same side as Cell 3. "If you shut up and allow me to enjoy this properly, I won't remove all of your teeth with a screwdriver later." I told the occupant excitedly.
The occupant, wisely, decided to stay silent.

Evil!Cricket

I looked up at him a moment, and slowly shook my head. "C'mon. It'll all be clear later, but now, we've got t' go!" I gently took his wrist to lead him away. "Please . . . trust me on this."

T.Mor:

Well...Uhm...I didn't know how to argue with that. I really didn't...I hadn't had a lot of experience with trust, I don't think...so...agh...
"Uhm...alright..." And I allowed myself to be led from my designated post, fully aware that...well...that was really bad...
Man...This friendship stuff...It's different than being friends with Riddle...

Evil!Cricket

That was . . . easy. Maybe too easy. It was supposed to be hard to lead someone to their death, so why was it so painfully easy? It didn't add up. And . . . maybe I was glad. I could kill someone else without a second thought. I was, in all entirety, a horrible person, and a traitor, and a liar. So what? It didn't matter. My expression hardened behind my mask. I was a murderer, again, and it was only one more reason to get killed someday. Practice makes perfect.

I paused when we reached the stairs. "T.Mor," I murmered, taking a step down and glancing back at him. "This way."

T.Mor:

I knew that the building was a maze...but...this seemed a bit...well, crazy. Even for someone who didn't work here...Down never meant freedom. ...Ever.
"Uhm...Cricket...That's down...That...that...That's down. I don't go down..." ...Unless Mr.Face is paying me...I added mentally, kind of cringing at that.

Evil!Cricket

My expression remained dark, but in some miraculous way, my voice sounded as it had been. "I know it's crazy, but trust me 'ere. I can't do this without you," I murmered, watching him. After a moment of hesitation, I held out my hand. "Don't you trust me?"

T.Mor:

I was forcefully reminded of Peter in the tub...Oh Internet...If...If that was what was happening...If that was the logic...Then...Well, I was just wasting time with my...well...uhm...hesitating.
Although...If that ended like it had last time...maybe I was better off going back to my...No. Friends don't...uhm...something about allowing hypothetical scenarios...uhm...I didn't even know.
After a few more moments of thinking, I went ahead and took the hand. "If this is...If...I really don't want..." I tried to explain.

Evil!Cricket

"I know," I said simply, and gingerly lead him down, as if his hand might crumble if I pulled too hard. "I promise, everything will be fine." I continued to murmer false promises as we continued, until I found myself face to face with Cell Number Three. "I promise, it's all part of plan. You need t' go in 'ere . . . a'right? I'm right be'ind you." It was too easy.

T.Mor:

...uhm.

...ok...

I did not want to go in there...Friend gore...Was not...something I wanted to see...But...still...

Mentally...uhm...trying not to think about this...I went ahead inside.

...It was empty. "...Uh...Cricket...I think...I think...This...are you sure this...uhm...It's..empty..."

Evil!Cricket

I paced in after him, pulling the door shut behind me. "I know, T.Mor. I promise, it'll be a'right . . . Now listen, T.Mor, I need you t' take off your mask." I set the tools down on a bench emotionlessly.

T.Mor:

Ok...something was not...not adding up.

At all.

But...This was Cricket.

But...gah... This was cellblock five...Taking the mask off...That...I was so confused.

"...why?" I asked.

Evil!Cricket

"Because you trust me." The words came out numbly, and practically of their own free will. I paced silently to the wall, examining the shackles. "Friends trust friends, don't they now? I'm asking you a favor, now . . . friends give favors. Will you take off your mask for me?"

T.Mor:

...Oh. Well... See...that...That I didn't know...Uhm.

"...oh...Uhm...uh...ok then..." This still felt all...wrong. All wrong...but... I didn't want to be bad at friendship... I reached up and pulled the mask off.