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幽霊屋敷; Haunted House; Open
Topic Started: Oct 6 2016, 02:07 PM (2,400 Views)
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Michael followed behind Jerry with his meticulously rehearsed swagger. With his head tilted high, sunglasses reflecting the light from the windows, strutting like the white jacketed gang leader in the King of Pop's Beat It video, you wouldn't think he'd be scared. You'd be right, he's not scared, he's terrified.

There was this fear that had hit his hindsight. What if Nancy was innocent? Now, he knew there was no way in hell she could have committed 'self-defense' against someone like Scarlett, you'd have to be bum-fuck stupid to think that, but what if the two of them were grouped together. What if, like he and Jerry, they woke up and made a group, and what if, someone big and nasty took them for an easy target. Michael knew Nancy had a weapon from the announcements. Maybe she fought back, and their would be killer used Scarlett as a shield, then pussed off like the coward they were. Maybe it was a little bitch like Alvaro.

Jerry was rather determined to find her, to put an end to her. Michael didn't blame him, hell he was helping him find her, but he'd like to question her first, just to be sure. He'd know if she was lying, you can't bullshit a master bullshitter. If she wasn't, she'd be free to go, and they'd look for the theoretical 'real' killer. However, if she were the killer, they'd follow the original plans, kill her, then hang her corpse from the asylum roof. Enough bed sheets to make a noose right? Plus she didn't have to be alive by the time they dropped her, just the thought of a killer's body hanging should be enough to deter other would-be murderers. Then, they'd target the other psychos, Alex, Isabel, Alvaro... Hang em' all from the roof, let them know that Mike and Jerry were the Judges, Juries, and Executioners around here.

Still, Michael was nervous. He didn't want to be making a mistake here. Neither him, nor Jerry. If they lynched the wrong one, well... They wouldn't be no better than the other killers would they?

Jerry was knocking door open after door open, no sign of the bitch. Michael leaned against a wall, zipping his jacket up for extra protection. He slid his axe underneath his arm as he began to roll the sleeves up, folding the cuffs backwards so they didn't slide back down his arms. It was kind of an oxymoron to be honest, protect your torso, leave your forearms exposed... But he needed the extra mobility on swinging his axe, and his vital organs were in his chest right? He didn't have hearts in his wrists after all...Not like arteries or veins were a thing, neither.

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat as Jerry kicked open the door. He heard Jerry speak, before he got cut off. That was when the smell hit him. Michael had crept up behind Jerry, looking into the doorway. There was a body, fresh, fresh as in blood was still pooling from under it. Michael lowered his shades in disbelief. This was the first real corpse he'd ever seen. He's been to haunted houses, he's seen slasher films, and many were more bloody than what he witnessed. This? This was different, flesh and blood, real, but it was stiff, like a mannequin, it was either real, and moved a little bit, or it was stiff, and obviously plastic. This was both stiff and real, not only that, there was the air, the smell. This wasn't just the scent of blood, it was something else, not something like bodily fluids, but something completely alien to him. The room was cold, windy almost, as if the victim's ghost just phased right through him on the way to hell...

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding..."

He turned his head to the other side of the room, the area Jerry was staring at. 'Speak of the devil' alright... All that shit he was thinking, it was all wishful. He'd have liked to think maybe he could be wrong. Nope, he was right the first time, Jerry was right the first time...

Nancy wasn't innocent, and that meant only one thing.

That bitch was gonna hang tonight...
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Michael felt many things, listening to Nancy speak. The expression on her face, the deadpan way she spoke. She treated it like game, no, that wasn't the right way to put it. She simply didn't care. Yet the words coming out of her mouth... She was doing it for attention! Ironically, the idea of hanging someone from the asylum to show how 'badass' they were didn't cross him as one bit hypocritical... It didn't count though. That was for heroism. Totally...

The problem was that she was killing for attention, and not only that, she had no remorse for any of it. The look on her fucking face said it all. To sorta-quote Dr. Loomis, Michael had realized that what was living behind that blue haired weeb's eyes was purely and simply...evil. No remorse, no empathy, no fear...

Wait... No fear.

Nancy got up.


Nancy had a hatchet.

Oh shit.

Nancy rushed the two.

Oh shit!

Michael brought his own axe up in front of his face, awaiting to block the strike. The hit never came, she went for Jerry instead.

Oh Shit!!

But apparently Jerry wasn't having it, he fucking knocked her lights out with a Patrick Swayze kick to the chest!

"OH SHIT!!!"

Michael couldn't resist cheering as Nancy flew back down to the ground again. Not only that, Jerry dropped the bomb on her with the taunt too. Threw in a 'bitch' and everything! Young paddawon, you have been trained well. Michael now knew how it felt when a parent taught their kid how to ride a bike, or in this case, taught their kid how to kick everyone's ass. Fuck he'd be a great parent. He'd have to talk with Jonathan about adopting, they'd raise the next Jean Claude Van Damme!

Michael slid past Jerry as he went into the room, keeping his eyes trailed on Nancy and her little pissbaby axe.

"You want that axe, don't you, Nancy?" Michael smirked as he pointed the sharpened edge of his axe at Nancy. "Go on, go get it... I'll just lop your hand off, Jerry won't mind. Hell, all he wants is the killing blow, whatever happens to ya' before that? 'S all on you."

He had to admit, this felt kind of good, to put a psycho like that in their place. To taunt them. To make them realize that this was the end of the road for them. To show them just how wrong they were, and just how right he was! To prove someone wrong, it was the greatest feeling on earth, even more so by the fact that he was right, whilst still being in the right.

"She's all yours, Jerry..."

He didn't feel one bit of remorse for this; the bitch had it coming. She made her choices, and she chose poorly. She chose the path that led down to the gallows, the hangmen of motherfuckin' justice were upon her now.

"C'mon, go grab it, I dare you... I double dog dare you, motherfucker!"

His grin just got wider and wider as he continued to taunt her, like a chimpanzee barring it's teeth to let you know that you done fucked up and now it's gonna rip your face off.

"Grab it, you motherfuckin' nobody!"
Edited by ToxieTheToxicAvenger, Oct 22 2016, 07:35 PM.
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(Gm'ing of Nancy is approved)

"Yeah?" No emotion, no fear.

No fucking remorse.

"Yeah?! Fucking yeah!? That's all you have to say you bitch?!" Nancy's very existence infuriated Michael. No 'I'm sorry's' no 'Please don't kill me, I didn't mean it' none of that shit. Just 'yeah'. They weren't even resigned to their fate, no, she was thinking that they weren't a threat, that she'd get out of this okay. You smug bitch.

Smug fucking bitch...

Michael sent his Jordan clad heel right into Nancy's nose, sending her reeling back. She was lucky Michael wasn't the one to kill her, the sick fuck. Jerry wanted the kill, Jerry was gonna get the kill. This Charles Manson wannabe was trying to get to him, but he wasn't gonna let her. She lost, they won. She wanted to act like she won, but she didn't. Any more smug talk from her, and Michael would stomp her again.

"C'mon Jerry, let's get this over with, bitch had this comin' for a long time."

Jerry replied.

With... a gurgle?

"Well, come o-"

Wait what?!

Michael turned his head to see Jerry bleeding a river out of his neck, shortly before falling over. He had to double take what had happened. No way, there was no way he could die. Not this far into it. What the fuck?! Michael's jaw dropped in shock as he watched his friend drop to the murky water, the area turning red around him. He stared at the bastard that was standing behind him.


The rat....

That fucking snitch...

Michael's breath rattled.

Brendan fucking Harte! He was gonna die. Michael was gonna fucking kill him! That little sneaky rat fuck! That coward bitch! That tall lanky stack of shit! He wasn't gonna just hang, he was gonna get drawn a- Those fuckers were teamed up the whole time! Brendan was wit- Oh shit, Nancy! It's a fuckin' ambush!

Nancy was still below him in arms reach of her own weapon. He had to kill her now! She wasn't getting a get out of hell free card this time.

Kill her, then kill Brendan. They both had to die for this.

Michael raised his axe, arms extended above him, ready to bring it down on her head.

Michael screamed.
Edited by ToxieTheToxicAvenger, Oct 23 2016, 04:55 PM.
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Michael screamed.

He felt his foot give way underneath him as he fell ass first into the water. He looked up and saw Nancy running off, hatchet in hand.

"Get the fuck back here!"

He got to his feet and stumbled, his right leg was shaking from where Nancy smashed him in the ankle. He limped after Nancy, but he knew she was too far gone, he could hear the splashes disappearing down the hall. His axe drug behind him on the wet ground as he moved towards the doorway.

He'd kill Nancy, but not now. She got lucky now.

His eyes trailed to Brendan. He brought his axe up, his right arm catching the end of it as he simply stood there and stared at him. This fucking idiot. He kills Jerry, then has the fucking cajones to sit and stare at him. What?! Did he want to taunt him. 'Ha-ha I killed your friend, and let a murderer get away'.

Spiteful cunt... That spiteful cunt...

Because of him, Nancy got away, she got lucky. Because of Brendan, that murdering whore got off lucky, and now she was gonna murder more people. And what did he get to show for his efforts?

Jerry was dead. Jerry was fucking dead. Michael felt his chest heave, his breathing getting faster.

Nancy got lucky, because of that little rat bastard.

She wouldn't get lucky again...

Michael screamed again and lunged forward, his axe raised above his head.

He wasn't gonna let another murderer get out from under him.
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Michael's axe barely missed Brendan as he ran out into the hallway. His axe had grinded against the stone wall, the sensation freezing Michael's teeth as it slid down the wall. He turned around and haphazardly swung the axe behind him, missing again. He bit his lower lip as Brendan stole Jerry's spear. The spear he made for him. His own axe raised up past his shoulder, they were at a standstill.

Brendan now had a weapon, he was gonna fight back with all he had... Michael still had his own weapon, he was gonna fight back with all he had as well...

Brendan had range, but Michael had power, raw power. He'd win this yet.

That's when Brendan spoke up, said his name. Was he gonna try to talk his way out? No, Michael wouldn't let him. Too late for that. Your chances diminished the second you put that blade in Jerry's neck. The time for talking was over, now it's the time for acting.

Michael lurched forward, and faked raising his axe, before lowering it and cycling it into an uppercut, going low to high.

Michael didn't care if he knocked Jerry's spear from Brendan's hands, or if he split his dick down the middle, all he wanted was to make the connection.

He screamed again as he brought the axe up.
Edited by ToxieTheToxicAvenger, Oct 23 2016, 06:43 PM.
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Michael's axe went up, but it had hit nothing. Michael turned his head, expecting to get stabbed in the back by Brendan...

He heard the splashes of Brendan running away behind him, going down the hall. Figures... He's a coward to the end.

Michael sprinted after him, axe above his head, screaming madly. His heart was pounding, he could feel his gums pumping blood, his chest burning. Sounds around him faded and warped. His screaming went from barely coherent swearing to inhuman wailing. At this point, through his own perception his voice sounded less like Michael Crowe and more like Bennings-Thing. He swung his axe and missed as he watched Brendan run up and out the area. He couldn't catch up with this limp.

Michael stood and stared up the stairs.

Two murderers, both got away...

He'll kill 'em. He'll kill 'em both dead.

Michael brought his axe above his head and screamed again. He flailed his axe around, his motions were spastic, yet robotic, like something had short circuited him. His axe banged off of the walls and doors of the hallway. His screaming echoed through the halls, and possibly other areas in the asylum. He brought his axe down, smashing against the ground, water splashing up every which way. He had screamed one last time, as his tantrum slowed to a crawl.

They got away...


Michael's adrenaline was gone, and the pain in his ankle increased ten fold. His limping slowed, his foot stiff as a board. By the time he reached that room again, he realized that there was another body inside.

That was three bodies here.

He thought about the corpses here, and what would happen. Two days in, they'd be green and purple bloated floaters, brown veins filled with rotted sludge, eyes bulging out, their lips looking as if they'd been vacuum sealed, they'd resemble a fish more than a person... Two days later, they'd rupture and collapse in on their selves, filling the water with rotted organs. Two days after that... They'd start melting, and this whole area was gonna be a decayed soup of disease and bacteria. Woe behold anyone who hides here, for trench-foot and facilitated necrosis wouldn't be too far from the truth.

Jerry wasn't gonna be one of them. Michael only had the strength in him to take one out, to give them a somewhat 'proper' resting place. He wished he could bring the others out, but he just didn't have it in him. He needed rest, he had to hunt those other fuckers down. Made sure they pay.

Because of Michael, Jerry had been killed. He got too cocky, and didn't think of watching the rear, keeping an eye on ambushers. He got lazy. Because of that Jerry died.

Brendan did the deed, but Michael had himself to blame. What a fucking waste. The good ones, they always go early.

Michael bagged his axe, and bent over, picking Jerry up by the shoulders.

It was a slow slog back to the exit, with Michael stumbling and falling a few times on the way there.

By the time he got to the exit, he was running on fumes, at this point all he wanted was to find some sort of closure.

He figured Jerry wanted the same thing...

((Michael Crowe continued Elsewhere))
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