Dramatic Death Scenes!

Evil!Cricket

Oh, the life of the blissfully ignorant. He didn't know what he'd just done. I almost felt sorry for him . . . I shook my head. No, it wasn't pity. More like a simple acknowledgement that he didn't know what was coming. "Thanks, friend," I said, and gingerly lead him to the wall. "You can trust me." I clasped the shackles around his wrists.

T.Mor:

Oh Internet.

This was bad...
badbadbadbadbad...
"What...No...this...You can't..." I pulled against the shackles a bit...even though I knew it was useless. They dug a bit into my wrists... "Why..."

What had I done? ...Clearly...somehow I deserved this...but...I couldn't...understand. This was Cricket...Not Mr.Face... Maybe he finally realised...what...what a horrible person I am...In which case...really...I wouldn't blame him...

I looked at the floor.

Evil!Cricket

I stepped back, watching his gaze drop. I remembered him from the chatbox, now that I'd seen his face. "Mate . . . you know th' reason why." I sat down on the bench, drumming my fingers against the toolbox. "I'm only murdering t' be rid of a worse murderer, aye? Honestly, out of all th' people that were brutally killed b'cause on your be'alf, you were th' one t' live. They 'ad families, lives t' live . . . what do you 'ave? Poor speech, and a blank mask." I sifted through the tools carefully. "What first, mate?"

T.Mor:

... ... ...That... That hit me like...like a brick. I mean...No denying it...I knew he was...right... I mean... how could he not be...but...
Still...
I couldn't pull my eyes off the floor.
"Uhm... I don't care..." I realised that trying to shrug in shackles... wasn't... wasn't an advisable thing to do.

Evil!Cricket

It was harder to see what I was picking up with the mask on. After a frustrating moment of sorting through sharp things, I finally pulled mine off and set it beside me, shaking my hair in my face once again. I'd heard somewhere it was against the rules to not wear a mask. I honestly didn't care.

"Th' thing I find interesting about you, T.Mor . . . is that you chase after things that don't exist," I continued. "There's a fine line b'tween true friendship and a complex system of self-lies, and I assure you, not once 'as that line been crossed into friendship. See . . . all those things I told you in th' 'allway, were true but cheating. You can trust me, aye, but only in ways you don't necessarily like. For example, you can trust me . . . t' mislead you. Who's t' say that Th' Four isn't th' same? Just a big lie. Aye, I've been lied to like that, so I should know. Friends don't last . . . no . . . friends lie."

I finally settled on my own knife. It was more homey.

T.Mor:

...Oh...

So...I guess...This...wasn't... I... Was I really... How could I have... I had been an idiot... Convincing myself... Convincing myself that people... That people could... Overlook something so... Bad... for...er... friendship.

...I glanced from the floor to look at his weapon choosing... The mask had gone... If the mask was there...maybe I could have...I dunno...kept feeding myself lies...or...something... That... That really was... I mean...Cricket with Cricket's face...is a lot more... uhm...something...than Cricket's voice behind the face of the government.

I ended up looking back at the floor...Looking up had been a bad Idea.
"... ... ..." Well. That...wasn't particularly...uhm...articulate...at all...

Evil!Cricket

I twiddled my knife between my fingers, staring off into my memories as I approached him. Ropes, flames, a long drop, blood in the water . . . and words, plenty of words. 'As long as this watch is ticking . . .' 'Are you kidding? I wouldn't leave for the world. I really like you guys . . .' 'Go back to sleep, Cricket, everything will make sense in the morning . . .' Lies, lies, lies. Dead, dead, dead. What would one more death do? It was only a small crime against someone who didn't matter to me. He would have probably killed himself soon enough, if I didn't get to him first.

"They never truly cared, you know," I continued softly, and began to tear away at his sleeve. The fabric peeled aside and exposed an angry patch of gashes and burns. Mr. Face was one for harsh punishments, I'd gathered. "It's a mad world. People will go t' great lengths in search of things that don't exist, just t' find some meaning of why th' 'ell they're alive. People will . . ." I carefully slipped my blade into a newer wound, hesitating a moment before tearing it through the closing gash. ". . . pretend t' 'ave found some meaning, and oftentimes th' lie convinces even themselves. Th' next moment they're forced into reality, that there is no meaning t' be found . . . especially for people such as yourself, aye? No one can love a monster." I numbly opened the wound further, watching his face with a hard expression. "Do yourself a favor, mate. Take my word . . . and never trust anyone. Don't let anyone close, or they will tear you to shreds. Now don't get me wrong, friend, those words right there were th' kindest thing I could say t' you . . . because they're th' truth."

I kinda wanna join DDS.....but I need someone to kill my charrie

T.Mor:

I...I was having a hard time deciding...deciding what hurt...more. The fact that...well...I was bleeding...again, from an injury that literally had just stopped being all...oozy...This morning, or...Or the fact that...that Cricket had just...He...

I mean...I always had known though...hadn't I? I'd...I'd known...From...well... I guess... for a long time that I was... I am a monster... And... I guess...I mean...

Yeah...I should have...I should have sold the house....I should have...I dunno...Joined the Anon...Moved...Left the city... I mean... Anything but..anything but this... But... I'd been eight...I mean...how was I...

...I didn't even know what I was...what I was trying to convince myself of anymore...I mean... Cricket was... If Cricket had been... Then..clearly...I mean the rest of the Four...How could I have been so...

I had started off looking at the floor...almost across the room...like...kind of at an angle. Now I was staring straight at the floor...the floor right under my feet...Teeth chewing a hole into my bottom lip.

"...I'm sorry..." I didn't even...I didn't even... have a clear idea of what I was apologising for... If this...If this had been Mr.Face, It would have been....It would have been for...not screaming... But I mean...

I dunno...Maybe...'I'm sorry for imposing'...I really didn't know...

Evil!Cricket

My mouth twitched into a smirk. "Are you sure?" I retraced deeper over the line before finding another gash. I wasn't much for gore. This was easiest; I could just trace over the lines, and talk. "Sorry too late, aye? Should 'ave thought of that b'fore you . . . well . . . thought otherwise. Now . . . Mr. Face probably likes some variety . . . what next? Your choice."

T.Mor:
Was...Was I sure I was sorry? ...what...what kind of question...I mean... of course I was...For...erm...well...everything...I guess...For...being a terrible person...for being a murderer...for...well, imposing myself on...well... all those people I thought...I thought there was friendship...happening with... For... being alive basically... I closed my eyes...it blocked out the little puddle of blood forming on the floor at the edge of my vision.

...another exacto knife cut...reopened...That one had been deeper the first time around...it caused some kind of... little pain noise to...escape me. I hoped I had managed to get all the acid off last night...But it was kind of...silly to wonder that now.

I reopened my eyes when he...when he asked..about...what next...I knew the standard lineup...practically had had it drilled into my memory...spent too long working here, I think...Too many...too many extra shifts...

"uhm...is there...is there a saw...in there...?" I asked, struggling more than usual to get the words to come out in...well...english...intellligible...english... I... I was so... I was telling Cricket...how to torture me... He... He hated me... I was a monster...

I kind of wanted...to go home...and just pull out my...er...well, the pistol under my mattress...but...I was stuck to the wall...so...I just closed my eyes again.

Evil!Cricket

I tore the knife out and glanced back at the toolbox, before looking back at him. To be honest, I had to force myself to look him in the eye. A small bit of guilt came along with seeing a pained expression, perhaps . . . just a small bit, pushed to the side of that clumsy gathering of bad memories and hate and numbness. If I faced the guilt rather than ignoring it, it would dissapear. I wondered if my dear doppleganger would have simply closed his eyes.

"Aye . . . I think there is." I swiftly made my way to the toolbox and pulled it out. "Out of curiousity, if I were t' 'and you a gun right now, and say, your 'ands weren't bound, would you shoot? See, I'm a friend who just 'appens t' look like a villian at th' moment, b'cause I'm telling truth . . . but some don't want t' 'ear it. Ah, and where would you like th' saw? I'm usually more of a kill-shot guy, but that technique doesn't quite work down 'ere."

T.Mor:

"...I don't...I don't like...I don't...I don't like... killing people..." I explained... I really...really... was not made for this job. I mean...Cricket was...was...cutting me up...and...I still wasn't a fan of the idea...

As for the saw...Well, I wasn't looking forward to the saw...at all. ...and I figured my arms were already mangled enough... I pushed a leg out from the wall for him...I deserved this.

Really...I deserved all of this...

Evil!Cricket

I didn't take the time to actually think about what I might do with the saw, but instead just played by ear. Tear the fabric of his pants below the knee, set the knife aside, and just . . . start sawing. There wasn't much except bone to cut. "Aye? That's a bit odd, mate, considering your job." And blood started to trail down the saw blade . . . that was because of me. Guilty. A thief, liar, murderer, red handed . . . and here I was, calling someone else a monster. Well, it takes one to know one. At least T.Mor would be dead soon. "But what if . . ." I sawed deeper into bone, cutting a good halfway through. It made a horrible sound, with each stroke. ". . . if that gun was pointed back at you? Would you shoot then?"

T.Mor:

...Oh Internet...this...this was...painful. I made some more pain noises for a bit, not entirely able to answer his questions and have someone...hacking into my leg at the same time...

I'd done that...that very thing though...Ask a question while...while de-veining...I shuddered at that thought...the movement sent pain shooting up my leg from the ...erm...saw place thing...gash... So inconsiderate...of me... I shouldn't...have...

I finally got things under control a bit in the pain noise department...enough to grind out "...yeah..." from between my grating teeth... I avoided biting my toungue... Just out of...habit I guess...

Evil!Cricket

"Again, friend, too late, too late." My voice was suddenly heavy. I slipped the saw out again, and numbly decided to start sawing again at a different angle, so when the two gashes met, there would be an interesting triangle cut out of the bone. "You know . . . I could just shoot you. Of course . . . you've caused a lot of pain, 'aven't you? Would a quick death be fair?" I was mostly just thinking out loud at this point.

T.Mor:

I only caught...bits and pieces of what he was...talking about...fair. Fairness. the phrase 'porportionate reciprocation' snaked through my mind, and I remembered...I remembered that I was remembering that...From Mr.Face.

This...this did seem to be 'porportionate recipro--Agh...Pain pain pain...It interrupted my already disjointed thinking, and the wierd little pain noises started up again...At least I wasn't screaming...

"... ...No..." I ground out another answer to a question I....thought he may have asked....If not...I was just going mad...which wasn't...impossible at this point.

gh3325 wrote:Name: Ezra Cox
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Apperance: Longish raven black hair, dark eyes, tall
Extra info: I've tweaked him. There may be changes in personality and history.

Name: Elizabeth Thomas
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Apperance: Brown curly hair, gray eyes
Extra info: still kinda working on tweaking this version

Evil!Cricket

The saw scraped through until the two cuts nearly touched at the ends, just held on by a sliver of bone . . . or . . . at least, I thought so. The blood made it hard to tell. "Oi my my, you're bleeding an awful lot, friend . . . Red, red, red. Blood and fire. Aye, I 'ate that color, red . . . like an enemy . . . maybe that's why I keep red so close. Isn't there some saying about . . . ah . . . keeping your friends close, and enemies closer?"

I pushed myself to my full height, staring down at his leg for a moment. It looked unfinished, with that chunk of flesh just hanging there . . . so I kicked at it once, and the bone sliver snapped like a twig from a tree. That felt oddly satisfactory. Guilty pleasure, almost. After all . . . he deserved it. Might have been a sin, but it was for a good cause. Murdering a murderer. I was sparing lives from his hand.

"Tell you what. I won't shoot you . . . but if you're longing for a more fatal way or torchure at th' moment, name your strategy."

T.Mor:

...I didn't understand at all...why Mr.Face was against dismemberment. This...This was...Well, I had screamed... I almost actually missed the question, because of the...painyness... Couldn't even think straight...

Oh...hm...Choices...Openended...No options...but...so many... I think...I think...I preferred Mr.Face... But...That was...a person... Not a choice...And...he'd... be mad...about the..about the dismembering...

Couldn't...couldn't have that...Ugh... "Do...did...he...There...There's...electrocution tools...somewhere... I...I...I dunno..." I went with the first thing that came to my...pain addled...head...Not even thinking about how he was going to...I dunno..get them...

Mr.Face:

I listened, having to constantly keep from laughing. This...This was more fun than...I didn't even know. Then...Then I heard Mr.Namechov request my tools.

"Excuse me..." I told the so pleasantly silent occupant, and went on a stroll down to my device room, setting the appropriate appliances up. I stood outside the door, waiting for someone to open it.

I loved shocking people...Both...literally, and...the other literally.

Evil!Cricket

I drew back a bit as his scream broke through the air, again feeling that weight on my shoulders . . . I was making someone scream. And I didn't find anything wrong with that. The saw clanked against the floor, now that I was done with it.

"Aye? And where might those be?" I murmered, sauntering to the door. I glanced back at him, but he seemed a bit . . . preoccupied, to answer my question. So I swung the door in-- "Oi." Suddenly my knife was pointed at a looming man who'd been standing ominously close, and apparently, waiting for me. "Mr. Face . . . there's this thing called knocking." I lowered my knife.

Mr.Face:

That...That was funny. I allowed myself to grin further. "Oh, I am well aware. However...I couldn't help but overhear...and thought you may need some...electrical help." I held out the devices in my hands. It didn't occur to me until later that the labels on the controls were all in braille. Oops. Should have mentioned that to him.

Well, It's no longer my problem.

I went back next door to continue listening.

Ezra

I landed on the ground with a thud, and Liz landed next to me. We had gotton away! But...I didn't know how long we could cheat death. My family would try to find us, we had to run now.

"Will they follow?" Liz asked me with frightened eyes.

"Possibly," I said, helping her up. First...we had to get out of here and I had no clue where we were. That was the problem with the spell...I had no clue where to go. So I just tried to get away. I looked around, not reconiing any of our surroundings. "Do you know where we are?"

"No."

Evil!Cricket

I cocked an eyebrow at the machine he'd given to me, waiting until the door had closed behind him to say anything. " 'Ow in 'oly 'ell am I supposed t' set this up?" I was not an electronics person. Lightbulbs and such were useless to me; in fact, every electric switch in the Bell Tower had remained untouched for years. The only light that reached the place was the frequent lightning that flashed through the windows, and aye, the stuff was a glory to see. Did that mean I was crazy enough to try to harness that energy into a little glass ball, or perhaps a torchuring device? No.

Well, it looked like this part hooked up there . . . Careful to avoid the blood puddles on the floor, I attached a couple wires to T.Mor's head, and made my way back to the bit of dials that looked labeled . . . labeled with little tiny bumps. Huh. That was an interesting way to write. "Do you know 'ow t' work this?" I muttered, messing with the device.

T.Mor:

I was...well...I...uhm. I was really going to...to tell him how...how to work that thing...great....but...At the same time...My head was swimming in...er...nonsense...and confusion...and...really, all I could figure was that I deserved this...somehow...and I couldn't remember...and... painpainpainpain.

And...and then...I could feel little cathodes across my head...And...Cricket was... Well... he was...I couldn't even look at him, so I closed my eyes...my face already pretty scrunched up from...well...uhmm...bad things...So...uh...

And...he wanted...to know...how to work...that...that thing...er...ok..."Uh...it's...you... ...if... there should be...a switch... and... a knob... er... Flip the...switch... and...a... a... Light...should... and... then...the knob...is...is...is... voltage..." I tried to explain...This...was really hard...when you were all..bleeding...and all...

I just wanted this all to be...over...I hoped he hit the wrong setting and killed me...immediately...but...I mean...I didn't really deserve...that...fastness...

uhm...