Dramatic Death Scenes!

(Eh...he dies.)

Are Cricket, Peter, and T.Mor alive or dead?

gh3325 wrote:Are Cricket, Peter, and T.Mor alive or dead?

Just read back like 2 pages...

Yeah I saw they switched placea but im sooo confused...should I do that for Ezra?

I don't think Ezra knows how. He'd probably be dead by now...

Sorry GH, but there's really no saving Ezra at this point. You DID sign him up for Dramatic DEATH Scenes. And the other three are gonna get captured again, anyway

Kk. Time to kill him off!

Ezra let out a scream, his heart felt like it was going to give out. His head rolled to the side as he took his last shattered breath. His dark eye's starring into nothingness.

*readsreadsreads*

ßøn∑z wrote:"Hey! GETOFFOFMELETMEGORIGHTNOWIDON'TLIKETHIS!" Beatle screamed, squirming but bidden to the table.
He felt suddenly scared. This face was not like the other. He was mean. Beatle also didn't like the computer anymore. Beatle started to shake slightly and his lower lip pouted out. He had a strong feeling that something very, very bad was going to happen now. A single tear slid down his cheek as he thought of Fishy. He missed Fishy.

Mr.Face:

The child was screaming. That was earlier than expected. "Please silence yourself...I don't want to have to get out my noise cancelling headphones so soon..." I continued latching him to the table. Dear internet, how he squirmed.
"Programme 5 loaded. Commence?" The OS asked me calmly. She was indifferent to the screaming.
"Yes, yes...Let me replace my blades before you do though...They're all...blunted..." I didn't want the knives to be...unable to print legibly.
I also took care to make sure everything was plugged in properly once I changed the blades.

Should I make Ezra a ghost?

The Aldric twins walked down the brightly lit hallway, careful not to make any noise. They were under specific instructions to assist Mr Face, which included stopping the escapees. No single blow kills, though, which Alexander wasn't too pleased about. They turned down the hallway, and immediately plunged into a total inky darkness. After continuing down the pitch black hallway for a few more moments, they stopped in unison, and waited.

Beatle did not like this man. Why hadn't the guard saved him from his evil? Why? It didn't make sense to him. Who was this man talking to? What was he saying? Too many big words. Beatle was so terrified he was completely silent, shaking violently as if it were freezing cold. His little heart pounded as he tried to understand what was happening to him, but it was no use. A heaviness filled his chest. Fear.
"W-W-What . . . happening?" Beatle whispered, his eyes wide as hockey pucks as he saw the metal sharp thing he'd usually use to cut fruits.

T.Mor's Soul:

They didn't know it yet but I was about to do something kind of...illegal. Kind of...Really illegal. I was leading them to the west wing, which had an exit not blocked by peasants.
Unfortunately the west wing was also Mr.Face's private quarters.
"So...When we turn this next corner it's going to be...Really dark. Mr.Face doesn't see the point in electricity in the sections of the building that people other than him never use." I explained.

Mr.Face:

"It's really quite simple. I'm going to cut little numbers into you...and that will give me immortality." I told the small child idly, grabbing a ruler. I wanted this to all line up right. It would be a waste to get three hundred digits in and realise that I was 2 milimetres off. I hated when that happened. "OS...Commence programme five." I told her calmly.

"Will it hurt?" Beatle asked, gulping and getting very pale.
That was when it clicked in. That knife he was holding was going to be hurting him. He didn't know what "immortality" meant but he supposed it was some sort of super power. He figured the evil man was stealing his super powers by cutting them out of him, and he could do nothing about it. The fear that swallowed Beatle whole was all that kept him from screaming.
"Am I gonna die? And who are you talking to? What is programme five?" he added, voice squeaking.

Sesria

"Makes sense," I commented. The guy was blind, after all. So this would be an adventure through the dark...great. I hoped T.Mor's soul knew where she was going.

Mr.Face:

"I assume that it will hurt...That seems to me to be the reason that most children in your situation scream. Which leads to my procurement of these headphones...." I pointed at the noise cancelling headphones wrapped around my neck. "Because small children are quite good at producing horrifyingly high pitched noises, and I really don't need tinnitis on top of everything else." I replied. "And yes. You are going to die." I went ahead an answered his questions. Why not? "I'm talking to my computer. Programme Five is the thing that filters your coding into my shrinebox, making it possible for me to sacrifice you without having to build a one to one scale model of a shrine box to sacrifice you inside." I tried to condense a complex logistical issue into several simple sentences. "I think I will have to commence shortly." I told him calmly.

T.Mor's Soul:

"There's a west wing enterance...Riddle uses it with obnoxiousness." I added.

He didn't understand much, but he did get that it would really hurt, and he wouldn't live. The computer made no sense to him but he assumed it had something to do with taking his super powers.
When Beatle realize he was going to die, he stopped breathing for a moment. He was going to die. No more Fishy? No more adventures? No more castle, no saving people in trouble, no more mangos or jello or meeting new friends . . . He couldn't understand how that could suddenly end. It didn't make sense to him. Dying didn't make sense to him. Beatle started breathing again when his lung hurt and his trembles shook the whole table.
I want to go home...

Mr.Face:

Right, well. He was taking this quite well...I thought. Most children I have to deal with are terrible whiny brats, and they scream and scream. This was pleasant. "Are you planning to remain silent like this throughout? That would be pleasant." I muttered, sitting down on a wheeled stool. Leaning over like that was bad for my back.
And then I started cutting. This was infuriatingly tedious work...So much precision required for an extended combination of 1's and 0's. It always seems to take forever.

Beatle had a good answer for that question, but as soon as the knife dug into his thick skin, he forgot it completely. His eyes got wider, and he clenched his jaw tightly. He was too scared to speak, as if the words he would say would shatter everything and make it hurt more. Nothing seemed real right now. In this strange metal room, with this stranger who had no face, the lingering taste of jello in his mouth, and that pain. The pain that grew deeper with each cut.
"S-S-Sorry if I s-scream..." he managed to say, because his head was spinning and he wasn't sure if it was the faceless man causing pain or someone else and felt it was needed to say sorry to whoever would hear him scream.

Mr.Face:

"You are the only child I have ever had the pleasure of killing that has apologised to me for the incinvenience..." I told him, surprised at the statement. I continued my work though, carefully employing my ruler occasionally to make sure I was getting the numbers all lined up.

Most of those words confused Beatle again. It was an evil scheme. The more the knife cut, the more confused he was. It seemed like the man was gone now, and just a knife was there, digging and carving. The pain made him dizzy and loose track of what was real.
He could feel soon that he was going to scream. The fear was fading, and the pain was overruling. He needed a release of some sort, but he thought that he might anger the man . . . The guard, was he still here? Beatle didn't know and didn't want to hurt his eyes.
Some part of his eyes saw Fishy, standing there and looking the way he looked at Beatle when he did something silly. An amused smile.
"Fishy . . . " Beatle whispered, then closed his mouth fearing a scream would get out.
The knife kept cutting at him. Tears began to drip down Beatle's face more rapidly. He wanted to reach out and hug Fishy and ask for band-aids but he couldn't, he was strapped to the table. So he held the gaze of Fishy, who never moved, who kept looking back at him, and tried to stay still.

((It was recommended that I bring a certain someone to come play...I don't have anyone to match her up with..so..if anyone wants to match her to someone, message me or something))

Name: Ferran
Age: 21
Appearance:
Species: Human, but is a regenerate, which means if you take her arm off, she just grows another one.
Personality: Ferran is a very cold, heartless woman. Other than that, her personality is still TBD
Killer/Victim: Killer
Particular enemies: She doesn't have any enemies in here I don't think...although she has played with Peter and Cricket some. But Seph has played with Cricket more...

((It was also recomended that I add this one....mind you he is still being Developed, as is Ferran, though she is a bit farther along than him))


Name: Sepheroth
Age: Undetermined...
Appearance:
Species: Human
Personality: Cold. Unfeeling. Enjoys causing others, including his daughter Dani, pain.
Killer/Victim: Killer
Particular enemies: Cricket...Cricket doesn't like him very much.

Disclaimer: If you know final fantasy, you know who that guy is and you know what his name is BUT for the record, I picked the name before I even settled on a picture, and that's not even a very accurate picture of Seph

Mr.Face:

I continued my work wordlessly, attempting to roll swiftly through the number sets. This alwasy seemed like eternity, but demanded all of my focus. If any one digit was off...all was lost. I appreciated the child's attempts at silence. He really was well behaved. I allowed myself a grin.

T.Mor's soul:

We hit the end of the last lit hallway, and a plaque that I assume read something like 'Mr.Face's West Wing. GO AWAY YOU IMBECILES' was printed across it. I couldn't say for sure because I couldn't read. "Alright....erm...Let's go then..." And I led them into the dark.

Cricket's Soul
I followed T.Mor's soul swiftly and cautiously. I was good at acting casual. I was a cat, after all...well, not right now. And it was wierd. Oi...I hoped our people were making it alright. We were counting on each other, right then.