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Grim Wolf
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The Very Best
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
[ENTER: Alex Tarquin from Real Human Being]

You're a murderer in earnest now, Alex Tarquin.

Oh, you've played the role well enough. You were daunting and intimidating, and your blade frightened men and women across the past several days. Lily Caldwell, Jeremy Frasier, Hazel Jung, Sabrina Luz, Jordan Greene. You have survived where others have perished. You have outlived Lizzie Luz and Tara Behzad.

You are alone.

So alone. You've killed one of your friends, and scared the others away, one by one. You have lost them all. By your hand was this monstrous thing done.

You're a monster.

Yes. Yes. A monster, as he'd intended from the moment Rea fell. He had to be a monster, because the alternative was unacceptable. He would not be an accident. He would not be another victim of this mad, stupid game, that took and took and took and never gave. Over and over again, without end. A game that broke and made hateful puppets of its most proud participants.

He did not remember waking.

He had fallen asleep, slick with saltwater, in some dock warehouse. He had awoken, naked and aching, in that dark place, and set about making himself look properly villainous. Finding the right clothes--jet-black scrubs, and jeans, and other gear. He was almost suprised at what the island had given him. After all, it had given him so little. All his dreams and visions, frustrated and reduced to dust.

He had walked across the island. He had thought, and contemplated. No one had crossed his path. Hardly surprising. How many men and women had died, since they arrived? How many friends he had once known? Lips once kissed?

Crowe. Oh, Crowe. Why did you take my eye. Why did you give me no choice but-

That voice.

He knew that voice.

Crowe had fought him, when there was no need to fight. But Will Mckinley? Will, that nameless avenger in the dark, that first grim battle when all had been on the line, before either of them had really been killers?

Before Alex had shoved a shelf down upon the woman he'd tried to kill?

Will had been his hunter. The hero to his villain. The voice chasing him out of the dark, asking why and how and...

Alone, as he walked along beaches and clifftops, through the asylum he'd tried to master, through the mausoleum they had crafted for the children they'd decided must die.

Villain. Ha. Who was the villain, when the men and women who ran this mad game still thrived and survived. Isabel and Nancy and Kimiko and Alex, what did it matter? All the same. Pretense and pretension. 'Play the game better,' ha! How could you play the game better than the monsters who had made it.

And there was the voice of Will Mckinley, and Alex and his monstrous ilk might pretend to be more than the awful creatures who had set their stage but Will and his were worse by far. Will and Crowe and all their kind pretended that there was something bigger than this, some higher truth they could cling to.

There was no higher truth.

"Don't move," Alex said, as the tip of his machete dug into Will's unguarded back.
Edited by Grim Wolf, Mar 12 2017, 02:44 AM.
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players

V4 Players
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