Re: DEATHGAME 9000 [S!3] Round One: Gamexus X99
02-19-2012, 02:29 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
Knock knock.
The sound of crying from behind the door dribbled off with a snotty inhalation and John heard what he imagined to be the sequence of noises that someone would make if they were rising from a chair and walking over to the door while wiping away their tears.
The door had one of those old-timey slots that opened up at eye level and the eyes that met John Fairlot were brown and puffy and he recognized them as belonging to that woman from before. “Go away” she choked, and the slot slammed shut with a rusty noise like shuuuuuukfft!
“Trisha, right?” asked John, trying to sound soothing. “It’s me, John. We met, but it was dark.”
The slot opened up again and made a sound like like shiiiiiiiiiiik. “Yes, I remember. But I really can’t be bothered right now. I have a serious problem with my horse.” Shuuuuuuuk.
“You have a serious problem?” demanded John, drawing his gun because it was just what he did when he was angry nowadays. “Everyone here has a serious problem! Come on, Trisha, I can’t find my sister anywhere and... and a man just shot himself right in front of me and... I think things are really bad here, Trisha. I first started thinking that when I saw all the monsters but it’s a lot worse than that, things are really, really bad and I could use some help right now.” John banged on the door with the butt of his handgun and with the fist of his other hand just for good measure but that certain feeling that there was a kindred soul right on the other side of the door had left. He felt very alone and tired and frightened all of a sudden and sank down with his back to the door and let his arms hang limp by his side with his fingertips clutching the gun lightly.
A sound from the other side of the door said “Neigh” but it sounded odd, like it was warped by bad recording equipment. Then when he strained his ears he heard Trisha whisper
“Shhhhhhhh”
And the horse answered
“Whinny”
And John realized then that Trisha's horse was probably dying. He was dying too, in a way, maybe in a couple of ways, but he had no one to take care of him. Neither did Crystal, who needed his help but here he was sitting half-dead by the door to the house occupied by a woman he barely knew and clinging to a gun like a security blanket.
Shiiiiiiiik
“Hey, John? John? Are you still out there?”
John stood up very suddenly and Trisha seeing the back of his head rise into her viewport gasped a little before he turned around and said “Yeah” and noticed he was sweating.
“Oh. When you said ‘monsters,’ those things out there, I don’t know if that’s the proper term. Maybe it is, I don’t know. My mom used to talk about all sorts of monsters, but nothing consistent with what I’ve observed here. I gave you one of my syringes earlier—sort of by accident—can you get a sample of one of those things?”
“Oh. I, uh, I already got it.” It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
He pulled the syringe, full of a weird goopy bodily fluid he had extracted out of something that never stopped screaming, out of his backpack. “Whinny” complained the horse.
“Hush, honey, I’m sorry, I’m trying to make you better. Give that here.” John tried to be very careful not to stab Trisha right in those beautiful brown eyes of hers as he squeezed the syringe through the slot. Trisha grabbed it and swapped it out for another syringe, this one pulled with something pink and inviting, which John took and put in his backpack without injecting it right into his arteries just to see what would happen. “Okay, if I had my equipment, which I don’t, I’d know whether or not I should stick this right into my horse and whether it would make him better or make him worse or just do nothing. We’re treading new ground here, scientifically. Which is a good thing. Now, look, find one of your monsters and stick that trait in it and don’t kill it. I’m doing an experiment.”
“Okay.”
“Whiwhninynneigh”
“Hush. I’m sorry for Hypocrisy. He never used to talk this much, but I guess when you have three mouths now and nothing to eat you don’t have much else to do. Come see me when you’ve done the thing, okay?” Shuuuuuuuuuk
John looked at the syringe in his hand. It smelled nice. Horses had always frightened him, but nowadays that didn’t really go for much.
Knock knock.
The sound of crying from behind the door dribbled off with a snotty inhalation and John heard what he imagined to be the sequence of noises that someone would make if they were rising from a chair and walking over to the door while wiping away their tears.
The door had one of those old-timey slots that opened up at eye level and the eyes that met John Fairlot were brown and puffy and he recognized them as belonging to that woman from before. “Go away” she choked, and the slot slammed shut with a rusty noise like shuuuuuukfft!
“Trisha, right?” asked John, trying to sound soothing. “It’s me, John. We met, but it was dark.”
The slot opened up again and made a sound like like shiiiiiiiiiiik. “Yes, I remember. But I really can’t be bothered right now. I have a serious problem with my horse.” Shuuuuuuuk.
“You have a serious problem?” demanded John, drawing his gun because it was just what he did when he was angry nowadays. “Everyone here has a serious problem! Come on, Trisha, I can’t find my sister anywhere and... and a man just shot himself right in front of me and... I think things are really bad here, Trisha. I first started thinking that when I saw all the monsters but it’s a lot worse than that, things are really, really bad and I could use some help right now.” John banged on the door with the butt of his handgun and with the fist of his other hand just for good measure but that certain feeling that there was a kindred soul right on the other side of the door had left. He felt very alone and tired and frightened all of a sudden and sank down with his back to the door and let his arms hang limp by his side with his fingertips clutching the gun lightly.
A sound from the other side of the door said “Neigh” but it sounded odd, like it was warped by bad recording equipment. Then when he strained his ears he heard Trisha whisper
“Shhhhhhhh”
And the horse answered
“Whinny”
And John realized then that Trisha's horse was probably dying. He was dying too, in a way, maybe in a couple of ways, but he had no one to take care of him. Neither did Crystal, who needed his help but here he was sitting half-dead by the door to the house occupied by a woman he barely knew and clinging to a gun like a security blanket.
Shiiiiiiiik
“Hey, John? John? Are you still out there?”
John stood up very suddenly and Trisha seeing the back of his head rise into her viewport gasped a little before he turned around and said “Yeah” and noticed he was sweating.
“Oh. When you said ‘monsters,’ those things out there, I don’t know if that’s the proper term. Maybe it is, I don’t know. My mom used to talk about all sorts of monsters, but nothing consistent with what I’ve observed here. I gave you one of my syringes earlier—sort of by accident—can you get a sample of one of those things?”
“Oh. I, uh, I already got it.” It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
He pulled the syringe, full of a weird goopy bodily fluid he had extracted out of something that never stopped screaming, out of his backpack. “Whinny” complained the horse.
“Hush, honey, I’m sorry, I’m trying to make you better. Give that here.” John tried to be very careful not to stab Trisha right in those beautiful brown eyes of hers as he squeezed the syringe through the slot. Trisha grabbed it and swapped it out for another syringe, this one pulled with something pink and inviting, which John took and put in his backpack without injecting it right into his arteries just to see what would happen. “Okay, if I had my equipment, which I don’t, I’d know whether or not I should stick this right into my horse and whether it would make him better or make him worse or just do nothing. We’re treading new ground here, scientifically. Which is a good thing. Now, look, find one of your monsters and stick that trait in it and don’t kill it. I’m doing an experiment.”
“Okay.”
“Whiwhninynneigh”
“Hush. I’m sorry for Hypocrisy. He never used to talk this much, but I guess when you have three mouths now and nothing to eat you don’t have much else to do. Come see me when you’ve done the thing, okay?” Shuuuuuuuuuk
John looked at the syringe in his hand. It smelled nice. Horses had always frightened him, but nowadays that didn’t really go for much.