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Two Mules for Sister Sara.; Open.
Topic Started: Sep 15 2016, 04:29 PM (871 Views)
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He wasn’t quite sure why he chose to go around the asylum, rather than into it.

((Jeremy Frasier, continued from 人生の曲))

Maybe it was because he felt like it. Maybe it was because of the deep set contrarian beliefs that happened to reside in his head. Maybe it was because part of him believed that this was the direction that Clarice would have gone. Probably not the third one though. As much as he wanted to find her again he doubted that it was going to happen, at least not immediately. He wanted to find her now but he wouldn’t and that would make him super sad but then when he was down for other reasons and he wasn’t thinking about it she’d appear and he’d be super happy because it was something he genuinely wasn’t expecting. It was like the Seneca thing, except honestly not at all. It was close enough. The actual theory was more to do with anger in when things didn’t go the way people wanted them to but the happiness part was definitely something in there.

Well, probably, at least. He couldn’t check. That was probably the downside to getting kidnapped by terrorists and being told that everyone in your school had to kill each other until only one was left standing. You couldn’t just google things if you weren’t able to remember them. You just had to… try to remember them harder, or something. He didn’t know. He just hoped that he was right on this one.

But anyway, back to what was right in front of him. That being a church. Pretty cool looking. He couldn’t really say much more than that but he couldn’t really fault it or anything. There were people inside it too, he was pretty sure. Voices. Not ones he could recognise easily. Could be people he knew about. Could be people he didn’t- honestly they were probably all mostly people he knew about, was more of a matter if they were people he cared about or not. Well, the more casual friends were cool too. Basically, if it was anyone he liked in there? He’d appreciate it.

And really, he would. If it was a friend or somebody else that mattered, and he actually got that chance to say whatever came to his mind as a good farewell? He wasn’t quite sure how he’d feel about that, but it’d be good in some capacity. A little bit of penance, for what had happened earlier with Clarice. Not redemption or anything, but something in the vein of that.

So he walked up to the church, barrel of his gun stuffed in his right pocket, and stared at the doors, for a few seconds. They were big. Brown. Seemed light, though. Easily pushable. Just hit those doors with your hands and-

Hah. That would actually make a good entrance. Risky, though. If the person in there had a gun and was taken by surprise he probably wouldn’t survive very long, and if that happened, everything he had done and said so far would have been a waste. It’d be cool, yeah, but honestly making sure he stayed alive so that he could give what he wanted to give and see his friends for the last time would probably be more important. It wasn’t exactly a very hard choice for him.

He stood in front of the chapel for a couple of seconds, thinking about it.

1. Have fun, above all else.
2. Find friends, give last goodbyes.
3. Pursue hopeless venture of survival, if first two options are no longer applicable.

Guess that settled it, then.

He walked forward, barging open the door, raising-

Oh, nobody was here. Guess the people must be in the room beyond.

...He walked forward, barging open the door, raising his hands into the air as a wooden cannonade announced his entrance to the Peaceful Meadows Crematorium Chapel.

“Hey guys, what’s up?”
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Things didn’t quite go as Jeremy thought they would.

He expected something… different. He didn’t quite know. Maybe the people inside would taken it as the jokey action that it was and either laugh it off or go ‘wow that wasn’t funny at all Jeremy, I’m not even sure why you try.’ One of those naturally was a far better result than the other but he could live with both, maybe after crying into a pillow for a bit but eh, he would have gotten over it fairly quickly. Had he been exceedingly unlucky maybe he would have came across some aspiring sociopath, ready to make mincemeat out of bones or however the cliche went. That… any way that would have happened it would have sucked, but he’d still most likely live from it. He had a gun. All he needed was to pick it up and go ‘pew pew’ and stuff and he probably would have gotten out of it okay. Okay meaning alive and not a murderer, because having the guilt of having someone dead at his hands on him wasn’t really the ideal way for him to spend his last days.

Those were the two events he was expecting. What he wasn’t expecting was for everyone in the room to get defensive all of a sudden.

His hands went down. Alice’s - quiet girl, likely the recipient of a failed attempt to make new friends a couple months ago - went up. Why would she do that? It wasn’t like he was covered in blood or anything. He looked down. Nope, still bloodle-




This was a little bit awkward now.

Maybe it’d be best if he tried to make this… not what it was.

“Oh. Wait. Sorry. Don’t worry. You can put your hands down now.” Jeremy said, in a sorta jolted manner. Experience had not really given him any tips on how to defuse an awkward situation caused by you bringing a gun in during a death game.

Oh also the other girl - Scout - was probably trying to be a badass. He was fine with that, and the line wasn’t too bad. Even though the focus was far more on the awkward situation he had created with Alice he could still at the very least give himself that bit of mind to respond to her.

“Well I mean, the door’s still standing, so I’m not really sure what you’re talking about there.”
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“Yeah. My bad there.”

Man, Scout was not the type to appreciate the context-specific art of fucking around, it seemed. She would have probably made a good teacher, had this not happened. A nice replacement for Mrs Brown, whether she retired or she-

Wait, did he almost say that? That was.... He wasn’t sure what the proper way to describe it was but he was pretty sure the words “not cool” would fit pretty well, because seriously, that was definitely one of the worst things he could have thought about. No matter how annoying of a teacher she was and no matter how much math was a subject he wished he didn’t have to do joking that she could have been killed the way Mr Graham was killed definitely crossed whatever line still existed and was certainly not something he wished for. This… sucked. Probably not the right way to describe it either but it still got the point across. It was terrible. He knew that stopping it from happening was impossible at this point - he had seen Nancy, he wouldn’t be surprised if she stuck her axe a little harder into someone else, as morbid and terrifying as the thought was - but if it found out that the number of people that had died or were going to die was less than he thought?

It wouldn’t help him, but maybe it’d put another smile on his face.

And that was another thing, that he had just realised. Mr. Graham. He was dead. He… wasn’t really someone Jeremy knew well - he had picked Chem over Physics, not maths and more interesting - but he was definitely someone that Jeremy saw around the halls. Friendly, helpful, and whenever Jeremy saw him he always had a smile on his face.

And that was a face that he’d never see again.

That was… something to think about. Not a very happy thing. A very sad thing, actually. A face that he had gotten to know over the four years he had been here was dead, and- oh god Mrs Barks was on that bus too fuck why

And then Scout spoke again, bringing him back to reality. He supposed he was... sorta relieved at that. Not happy, not anymore, but he was a little thankful that she was still being her supposed killjoy self. She wanted him to put the gun away, although she said that she didn’t think he could do that.

She thought wrong.

“Hang on a moment.”

He swung the bag over his shoulder. It was now in front of him. The gun went in, the zipper was done, and it swung back.

“There we go.”

And now the room was silent again. Time to go back into his thoughts.

He’d rather not have that.

“So, uh… what’s up?”
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“Hey, I called dibs. Call dibs. Whatever.”

He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to focus too much on what he was saying. Obviously he wouldn’t accidently say anything wrong because seriously who did that but his replies weren’t going to be the greatest. He knew that. He didn’t care. The two people right in front of them weren’t ones he knew personally and likely wouldn’t so it didn’t matter if they didn’t think much of him. He just needed to not think. That was what he was valuing right now. And it’d be simple. Simple enough. He knew that he was thinking but so long as it was surface details like this? It’d be fine.

“But nah. You can stay. I’ll go. Figure out someplace else to stay, or something.”

Scout asked something. His name. That was simple enough.


And then she asked him about Clarice.

And everything came crashing back.

The image of Mr Graham getting shot and the thought that Mrs Barks had likely died and the game and the island and Nancy sending the axe swinging into Clarice and the blood on the floor and on the axe. It all came back. It was there. And it was real. It wasn’t the people on the pictures standing off with one another. It wasn’t the man in the picture covered in blood that he could easily scroll away from. It was real. People he knew. Faces. Faces that he’d never see again. Maybe if he was lucky he’d get to see Clarice one more time but he didn’t want to count on it. He knew he’d be let down.

Because that was how things worked. You hope for something, and it gets taken away from you and you scream and you cry and the world has its fun from getting it’s rise out of you. Quote Seneca. Somewhere in the BCE.

Wait, no. He just needed to not think about this. Have fun. It was the top thing on the list, so it was what he had to do. There was a question. He could distract himself from it.

“I saw her… earlier today, yeah. In the bell tower.”

He looked away. Down.

He remembered something. One of the few good things his parents told him. Frequently he forgot, and whenever he did, his parents would always get stern at him and tell him to look people in the eye when he was talking to them.

“She got an axe sent through her arm before she went out of sight. I don’t know what happened after that.”

He knew that if they were here, his parents wouldn’t be very pleased right now.
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“You’re welcome.”

And then Scout left. She didn’t seem to be too good. Maybe just straight up telling her that he had seen her person of unknown connection get hit with an axe wasn’t the smartest idea after all.

And you wonder why it’s suddenly so hard for you to talk to people, Jeremy.

But now the both of them were alone. The both of them being Jeremy and Alice. Had she spoken since he had entered? He didn’t know. Wait, he did know. She landed dibs on this place tonight a little bit ago, before Scout asked him if he had seen Clarice. He knew her, a little bit. He now definitely remembered having a conversation with her. Probably in the music room. It didn’t really go that well. Chalk that up to the normal case of Jeremy honestly not being that good at really conversing at other people. There was the option to talk again right in front of him, but he wasn’t really sure that was a good idea. She wanted to be alone, and the last time they tried he felt kinda awkward. Stilted.

It wouldn’t really help him get his mind off his thoughts.

He looked behind him. Scout was out of sight.

There were people out there that knew him better. Who he could talk to easier. Who he wanted to at least have that talk one last time. He knew that. Maybe they could distract him. At least for a bit. Keep him in the good and light mood that he wanted. That he needed. He knew that this was probably a big island, but who knew. It was a chance.

He turned his head back to Alice.

A better chance than remaining here, at the very least.

“Well, you said that you wanted this place to yourself, so I’ll leave it to you, then.”

He turned around, sending his arm out in a wave.

“See you around, hopefully.”

((Jeremy Frasier, continued in This World Belongs to the Mad))
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