Serial Killer Round 43 - Welcome to the Killtona 500 (Finish Line Reached! Race is Over!)
- Thread starter NeoAC
- Start date
@WP: Still haven't actually gotten around to playing MGS. I've watched the entire series get LPed though. They look like a whole lot of fun and the story is pretty interesting (if not extremely overblown).
@Sky: Oh god... the maniacal laugh of Lando... D:
@Red: I like that video because you could see that the bartender was doing her best not to laugh in some scenes. xD
@Red: I like that video because you could see that the bartender was doing her best not to laugh in some scenes. xD
Given that I was told by the recently deceased that a death would be occupying this thread by now, I am going to give them until I wake up tomorrow (which might not be until around 2:30PM, it was a long busy weekend). If there is not a death, I will make an announcement and they will be able to post it at a later time. Then hopefully we'll get a kill before I got to the bar.
In the meantime, a new Group has been created!
HERE IT IS! [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/groups/view/Serial-Killer-Group]
This will serve as the new HQ for the SK game, since it has an owner who has been around in the past year, unlike the other one. Please join it, especially if you wish to play in future rounds.
Thank you, I'll go back to sleepwriting now.
In the meantime, a new Group has been created!
HERE IT IS! [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/groups/view/Serial-Killer-Group]
This will serve as the new HQ for the SK game, since it has an owner who has been around in the past year, unlike the other one. Please join it, especially if you wish to play in future rounds.
Thank you, I'll go back to sleepwriting now.
Murderville. An expanse, bustling city. Filled to the brim with tall buildings, dark alleys, slashed throats, and more recently, a very intense racetrack that spreads far and wide through the city's borders. The latest attraction, one that does its best to keep the citizens occupied and ignorant. At the city's center, the tallest building stands. There's a floor near the top, a swanky penthouse-esque suite with its walls and floors lined with decor of various time periods. The large room is inhabited by 4 individuals, all dressed in various suits and dresses, and most had placed themselves at a long table located at the center of the suite. One of the individuals, a man, stands at the suite's widest window, his gaze affixed out on the city.
"The blood flows well this cycle. This round's pawn might just have a chance at achieving a full cleanse this time." The man said in a low, suave tone, beginning to face his associates. And there at the table, sat 1 female, and 3 males, a council formed from a dark pact created around the time Murderville was initially established. This small group. Tasked with overlooking the dangerous ongoings of the city's pedestrians. Rewarded with everlasting life through endless resets. Assigned by entities that can't be viewed with mortal eyes. Eventually, another of the men spoke up, his voice establishing an expression of agitation, despite his facial features staying neutral.
"Our little group is being spread too thin. The Crow, The Lost, and The Expanse have all died within the last rounds. And the only of us that're truly safe, are The Beast and The Rosebush. And that's only because she decided to pull out of this cycle. A decision that-might I add-goes against the pact we joined, and only unbalances the scales even further!" His voice rose with every opposite sentence. The Rosebush (who sat somewhere at the opposite end of the table), returned his opinions with a small, cold, smirk.
"It seems The Soul is displaying traits of paranoia. Perhaps we should set him loose in the city and see who gets to him first. Maybe if you're lucky, the citizens won't tar and feather you until after they hang you!" She spat back, she herself growing in anger. The man standing at the window slid into a chair at the center of the table, somewhat placing himself between the two feuding users.
"Calm yourselves, friends. As long as The Lights never fade, then living'll be the one thing we won't have to worry about. I will admit though, it hurts like a ***** every time someone snuffs you out." The man said, beginning to recline in his seat. The scruffy faced man sitting across from the man, The Beast, was the last to implement any opinion.
"Well yeah, that's cool n' all The Antiquity, but did we really have to dress up for this? And what's with this location? My castle is 10 times swankier than this dump." He asked, also clearly in a grump.
"Eh, I think the whole 'dark and envious heavy shrouding robes and castles' thing is becoming outdated. I felt that it was time for us to update our look a bit, while still staying within the 'shades of evil' type troupe. And what's more evil than businessmen? Either way, I must complement you on your idea for this cycle's theme. Who knew that a racetrack would be so successful?"
"Well, you know how humans are. With the twists and turns, nonstop carnage, and the ability to join in the race with your own ride-on the fly, no less-that attraction should keep those insects occupied for as long as the cycle lasts. Even longer theoretically." The Beast explained, clearly proud in his hosting abilities. The Antiquity smiled at The Beast's traits of vanity before rising to his feet.
"We're definitely coming down to the wire here ladies and gents. Depending on how these next rounds go, the scales might just tip back in our favor. The Rosebush may have led the scales eschew, but I feel a strange positiveness towards our latest pawn. One step back, two steps forward." The Antiquity announced.
"The saying doesn't go that way." The Soul piped up hastily, coldly excusing himself from the table and the room. The Antiquity watched as him leave the room before giving the remaining two users his attention.
"Beast, your hosting skills are superb, so you keep at it. As for The Soul and I, we'll continue lurking among the peons until the either of us are executed or killed, in order to keep our secrets, well...secret. No one knows of our little meetings, and i'm sure we'd all like to keep it that way." The man explained to the two, The Rosebush replying soon after he completed his spiel.
"What about me?" She asked simply.
"...Enjoy the executive suite. Who knows? It might only last for this cycle." The Antiquity replied lastly, collecting his things before he and the host gave the girl their farewells.
[hr]
I might've been entitled "The Antiquity" by The Lights, but to the lowly street level urchins, I am known as Pm0n3y. Or Philip. Or Phil, or whatever name my mortal body once had. I dare not tell them of my new name, or compromise what it insinuates. They usually see me as the person that hangs in the background, saying little, while staying a participant. It's simple, yet fairly effective tactic. I stay out of relevancy, and I join in the angry chants whenever a mob begins to form. In return, the kids stay off my case. It's what must we do to keep any of the mortals from getting curious of what goes on behind the scenes.
No matter the consequences.
Like, for instance, consider the scenario I'm in now. It will be my turn to be executed. Even now, the deaf lead the blind, making a baseless decision on who they think is slaughtering their loved ones. Without that damned scourge of theirs, "The Spy" as he's entitled, the masses can nothing more than panic. Even so, their means of problem solving is strangely effective. How else would you find the one killing your friends, than by killing your friends yourself? Pfft. Such a barbaric process.
Soon, my home is broken into, the loud, livid chatters of aggravated insects reverberate through my thin walls. But I do not fear the mob, seeing as I have no need to. For fear is but a human emotion. And we are not human.
Eventually I am discovered, lounging in my den. They bombard me, binding me by my hands and feet. Countless fists, feet, and armed weapons begin ripping into my flesh and bludgeoning my mortal body. The experience is undoubtedly beyond painful, but I do not show any form of stress from my facial expressions. Eventually they let up. One of the more competent looking mobsters step forward, brandishing a simple truncheon. Of course, it's someone I know, it's someone we all know. He kneels to me, and leans in close.
"Tell me Phil, do you still think the killer has a chance?" The Soul asks through gritted teeth. His brow is furrowed, yet my expression stays plain.
"He's made it this far. I'm confident in his luck."
"Then you will die as he will. What will be your final words?"
"See ya next time." I say softly, with a wink and a smirk. As if threatened by my words, The Soul begins bashing my face in.
"The blood flows well this cycle. This round's pawn might just have a chance at achieving a full cleanse this time." The man said in a low, suave tone, beginning to face his associates. And there at the table, sat 1 female, and 3 males, a council formed from a dark pact created around the time Murderville was initially established. This small group. Tasked with overlooking the dangerous ongoings of the city's pedestrians. Rewarded with everlasting life through endless resets. Assigned by entities that can't be viewed with mortal eyes. Eventually, another of the men spoke up, his voice establishing an expression of agitation, despite his facial features staying neutral.
"Our little group is being spread too thin. The Crow, The Lost, and The Expanse have all died within the last rounds. And the only of us that're truly safe, are The Beast and The Rosebush. And that's only because she decided to pull out of this cycle. A decision that-might I add-goes against the pact we joined, and only unbalances the scales even further!" His voice rose with every opposite sentence. The Rosebush (who sat somewhere at the opposite end of the table), returned his opinions with a small, cold, smirk.
"It seems The Soul is displaying traits of paranoia. Perhaps we should set him loose in the city and see who gets to him first. Maybe if you're lucky, the citizens won't tar and feather you until after they hang you!" She spat back, she herself growing in anger. The man standing at the window slid into a chair at the center of the table, somewhat placing himself between the two feuding users.
"Calm yourselves, friends. As long as The Lights never fade, then living'll be the one thing we won't have to worry about. I will admit though, it hurts like a ***** every time someone snuffs you out." The man said, beginning to recline in his seat. The scruffy faced man sitting across from the man, The Beast, was the last to implement any opinion.
"Well yeah, that's cool n' all The Antiquity, but did we really have to dress up for this? And what's with this location? My castle is 10 times swankier than this dump." He asked, also clearly in a grump.
"Eh, I think the whole 'dark and envious heavy shrouding robes and castles' thing is becoming outdated. I felt that it was time for us to update our look a bit, while still staying within the 'shades of evil' type troupe. And what's more evil than businessmen? Either way, I must complement you on your idea for this cycle's theme. Who knew that a racetrack would be so successful?"
"Well, you know how humans are. With the twists and turns, nonstop carnage, and the ability to join in the race with your own ride-on the fly, no less-that attraction should keep those insects occupied for as long as the cycle lasts. Even longer theoretically." The Beast explained, clearly proud in his hosting abilities. The Antiquity smiled at The Beast's traits of vanity before rising to his feet.
"We're definitely coming down to the wire here ladies and gents. Depending on how these next rounds go, the scales might just tip back in our favor. The Rosebush may have led the scales eschew, but I feel a strange positiveness towards our latest pawn. One step back, two steps forward." The Antiquity announced.
"The saying doesn't go that way." The Soul piped up hastily, coldly excusing himself from the table and the room. The Antiquity watched as him leave the room before giving the remaining two users his attention.
"Beast, your hosting skills are superb, so you keep at it. As for The Soul and I, we'll continue lurking among the peons until the either of us are executed or killed, in order to keep our secrets, well...secret. No one knows of our little meetings, and i'm sure we'd all like to keep it that way." The man explained to the two, The Rosebush replying soon after he completed his spiel.
"What about me?" She asked simply.
"...Enjoy the executive suite. Who knows? It might only last for this cycle." The Antiquity replied lastly, collecting his things before he and the host gave the girl their farewells.
[hr]
I might've been entitled "The Antiquity" by The Lights, but to the lowly street level urchins, I am known as Pm0n3y. Or Philip. Or Phil, or whatever name my mortal body once had. I dare not tell them of my new name, or compromise what it insinuates. They usually see me as the person that hangs in the background, saying little, while staying a participant. It's simple, yet fairly effective tactic. I stay out of relevancy, and I join in the angry chants whenever a mob begins to form. In return, the kids stay off my case. It's what must we do to keep any of the mortals from getting curious of what goes on behind the scenes.
No matter the consequences.
Like, for instance, consider the scenario I'm in now. It will be my turn to be executed. Even now, the deaf lead the blind, making a baseless decision on who they think is slaughtering their loved ones. Without that damned scourge of theirs, "The Spy" as he's entitled, the masses can nothing more than panic. Even so, their means of problem solving is strangely effective. How else would you find the one killing your friends, than by killing your friends yourself? Pfft. Such a barbaric process.
Soon, my home is broken into, the loud, livid chatters of aggravated insects reverberate through my thin walls. But I do not fear the mob, seeing as I have no need to. For fear is but a human emotion. And we are not human.
Eventually I am discovered, lounging in my den. They bombard me, binding me by my hands and feet. Countless fists, feet, and armed weapons begin ripping into my flesh and bludgeoning my mortal body. The experience is undoubtedly beyond painful, but I do not show any form of stress from my facial expressions. Eventually they let up. One of the more competent looking mobsters step forward, brandishing a simple truncheon. Of course, it's someone I know, it's someone we all know. He kneels to me, and leans in close.
"Tell me Phil, do you still think the killer has a chance?" The Soul asks through gritted teeth. His brow is furrowed, yet my expression stays plain.
"He's made it this far. I'm confident in his luck."
"Then you will die as he will. What will be your final words?"
"See ya next time." I say softly, with a wink and a smirk. As if threatened by my words, The Soul begins bashing my face in.
@Pm0n3y: Well worth the wait. Very well done sir.
[HEADING=1]PM0N3Y HAS BEEN EXECUTED![/HEADING]
[HEADING=2]But once again the crowd comes up empty trying to nail the killer. Now that we approach single digits in participants, will they come closer next round? One of them won't get the chance...[/HEADING]
[HEADING=2]But once again the crowd comes up empty trying to nail the killer. Now that we approach single digits in participants, will they come closer next round? One of them won't get the chance...[/HEADING]
Well I just got killed. Damn shame.
But now I get to go to the JIB-Wait it was set on fire wasn't it? Bugger.
I allowed my head to slump down to my desk. The reports wouldn't write themselves, but I couldn't care less. I shut down the computer, and walk off, tired. I hardly notice the emptiness of the town. I stumble along, before stumbling upon the old race track. Normally I'd go around, but figuring that it was shut down in light of recent events, I decide to go through.
I look around the rows. All empty. Except for 1? Wait...Wait no, there's more. People, who don't seem to be there. They stare off, some conversing. Everything is dull and grey. It begins to rain. A newspaper floats until it hits my foot. The cover is clear, showing the ashes of the mansion. A big figure or something got killed? I don't bother with reading the local newspapers. Too depressing, too bleak. A faint roar can be heard. The hollow crowd looks in the direction of the noise. I notice they're all injured. One looks completely broken, one looks utterly burned. Bullet wounds, broken bones...And the fact that I can see the seats they sit on? I shake my head, close my eyes, and continue walking.
I trip over my shoelace. I curse, and begin the annoyance that is tying the shoelace. The roar is louder. I stand up, and turn my head, but I'm too slow. The speeding car hits me. From the position it hits me, plus the speed...I essentially am flipped over the car. I groan, as I soon realize I can't feel my legs. I spot one of the viewers, with a phone. They say something angrily. I try to crawl to the grass. The car is back around the course, and stops, allowing the driver to get out.
The man is sad, his movement almost robotic. He pulls out a small handgun, and fires two shots from it. The first, hits my stomach. I suddenly become shocked. He sends the second bullet, into his skull. I only watch it. But the realization soon dawns on me. I am going to bleed to death, on a stupid race track. The crowd just sort of, disappears. The person with the phone, gets up, and walks away. But even from this distance, I could tell, they smiled.
I look around the rows. All empty. Except for 1? Wait...Wait no, there's more. People, who don't seem to be there. They stare off, some conversing. Everything is dull and grey. It begins to rain. A newspaper floats until it hits my foot. The cover is clear, showing the ashes of the mansion. A big figure or something got killed? I don't bother with reading the local newspapers. Too depressing, too bleak. A faint roar can be heard. The hollow crowd looks in the direction of the noise. I notice they're all injured. One looks completely broken, one looks utterly burned. Bullet wounds, broken bones...And the fact that I can see the seats they sit on? I shake my head, close my eyes, and continue walking.
I trip over my shoelace. I curse, and begin the annoyance that is tying the shoelace. The roar is louder. I stand up, and turn my head, but I'm too slow. The speeding car hits me. From the position it hits me, plus the speed...I essentially am flipped over the car. I groan, as I soon realize I can't feel my legs. I spot one of the viewers, with a phone. They say something angrily. I try to crawl to the grass. The car is back around the course, and stops, allowing the driver to get out.
The man is sad, his movement almost robotic. He pulls out a small handgun, and fires two shots from it. The first, hits my stomach. I suddenly become shocked. He sends the second bullet, into his skull. I only watch it. But the realization soon dawns on me. I am going to bleed to death, on a stupid race track. The crowd just sort of, disappears. The person with the phone, gets up, and walks away. But even from this distance, I could tell, they smiled.
But now I get to go to the JIB-Wait it was set on fire wasn't it? Bugger.
@Schizzy I threw them into a lake. The fishes were looking at me with those dear eyes. Like puppy eyes, but with fish.
@Miniman: If the JIB is on fire, then I need to have a frank discussion with CA regarding policies up there.
[HEADING=1]MINIMANZOMBIE HAS BEEN MURDERED![/HEADING]
[HEADING=2]There aren't many of you left, so this shouldn't take too long. Can you stop the killer before he reaches the point of no return? We'll see...[/HEADING]
[/quote][HEADING=2]There aren't many of you left, so this shouldn't take too long. Can you stop the killer before he reaches the point of no return? We'll see...[/HEADING]
@Neo Doesn't matter I suppose. You know, considering I'm dead and what not. So...yeah.
*Starts eating from the JIB*
*Starts eating from the JIB*
Could we have a murderer winning? Come on guys, step it up! D:
[sub]I want to be avenged...[/sub]
[sub]I want to be avenged...[/sub]