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![distortion [D4-N6] 0dZrth9](https://i.imgur.com/0dZrth9.png)
| The video begins with a figure running in the darkness. Most of their face is hidden in shadow, though occasional flashes of light from passing street lamps and the dim glow of a phone screen reveal a clearly exhausted individual, tired and sweaty. “I… huff… I am coming to you, dear viewers, here now… huff… I apologize for the less than technical quality of this video… but the reason for it is one that I feel like you, my faithful audience, may understand.” “As you may know… there have been a string of deaths in the town, which I have previously reported on extensively. While the government… huff… has stated that they’re trying to find those associated with this chain of heinous crimes, I don’t believe that in the slightest. I am still convinced that the Big Man and the local government is in on these murders, and after some … huff… spirited investigation… I believe I have determined the real culprits!” “If I’m correct, then this vile conspiracy reaches to the very top… huff… and as a result, I have been forced to leave my house… huff… After all, there’s no guarantee unsavoury characters won't break into my house and steal my sensitive information, my evidence detailing their bloody hands on this mess… huff… though if they plan to torture me with their secret alien technology and break my mind, they’ll… huff… have something coming to them, for I am an expert in anti-telepathy tools… I cannot trust this information to my parental units, either… ” As the figure passes by another streetlamp, rambling nonsensically, the edge of what appears to be a moving object behind them is briefly illuminated. The figure does not seem to notice. “Given what I believe… huff… I’ve encountered… I feel like it is time for me to act. No longer shall I report the truths of the day dutifully to my audience, but I will deliver the truth! I will confront these culprits and I will not be cowed by their ritual sacrifices and their arcane organ harvesting rituals! These clandestine operatives will bear witness to the power that is the light of truth which will destroy their conspiracies to hurt the innocents… huff…” A cheeky smile. Another streetlight passes, and it is clear whomever or whatever is following the figure is getting closer. “Viewers, if anything happens to me, I would like to impart what I have discovered to all of you… huff…” The figure pauses briefly in the darkness. They heave slightly, as if preparing for the speech of their life, though this motion is barely visible by the glow of their phone… Before they can utter a word, something knocks the phone out of their hand and the video abruptly shifts to the dim light of a streetlamp, the camera facing up towards the sky. For 6 minutes and 14 seconds, nothing but screaming can be heard. The camera continues recording for another 8 hours and 3 minutes past that point, until it runs out of battery. The body is found in the morning, mangled beyond belief, gashes like claw marks reaching up the waist and the phone itself stabbed right through the screen with what appeared to be a pair of tweezers with clinical efficiency. Police had retrieved the video successfully from the phone, though the poor quality of the video, as well as damage inflicted to the internal memory of the phone made it impossible to positively quantify the assailant. Questions would inevitably arise about the culprit(s), but as always, there were no answers. Just like every other death. No answers. Then again, stranger things have happened: an individual who was mobbed to death can simply just reappear, hoodie tightened and face in shadow, before disappearing back into the darkness. And there were three bodies found in the morning, not one. ![distortion [D4-N6] ZT4k8rL](https://i.imgur.com/ZT4k8rL.png) In another part of town, an individual holds a small photograph, whispering something or another to its contents. Secrets? Regrets? Or simply a story to pass the time, to a scene trapped in time that'll never reply back? In truth, it was none of that: just an outpouring of bitterness towards the picture’s lifeless inhabitants. Bitterness about life in general: about how people have a tendency to lie and break their promises, how the world isn’t fair and how people can see a demon in sheep’s clothing and dare to herald them as a saint. It is this bitterness that this stranger carries to the grave as they bleed out on the ground, wounds too sudden to be saved from. As their last thoughts enter their head, they wonder whether or not that person was responsible for this, too; they hadn’t been able to see their assailant’s face. They wouldn’t be surprised if that person was. That person was as close to being the killer as they could be, and had it not been for them none of this would have happened. As the stranger dies, they rue their circumstances. There was so much they could have done, so much that they could've changed if they had just been a little wiser, a little more forceful, told— But of course, life is cruel and full of regrets. That they knew for sure. Here’s a story. You already know how it starts. Once upon a time, some old leader rules over the land, and the town is good and everyone’s happy. Lowers taxes on the people, and the people, well, they like this. Cuts hospital and police funding, but who needs cops and doctors in these peaceful times? Then, tragedy strikes, because what’s a good story without some conflict? Our villain takes the form of vehement violence, of depraved devilry, of hideous horror, of knives in the night. The old leader, well, we’ll give ‘em some credit. They try to do right by the town, but they’re just a background character, what’s the best they can do? So here steps in the hero. This once-upon-a-time author, now politician, steps up to the plate. These are dark times, and in dark times some no-name incumbent isn’t gonna cut it. Our hero doesn’t fight with swords or sniper rifles or psychic powers. They used to be a writer, after all, and there’s that old saying about how the pen is mightier. Our hero rallies the town, a storm of charisma and vocabulary. Out with the old and incompetent, in with the new and intrepid. Let’s band together, everyone from every walk of life. Let’s save our town, together. This protagonist, this creature of energy and gusto, gathers support, gathers a voter base, gathers the will of the people and challenges the evil in this town, and challenges the mayor that allows this evil free reign. There was supposed to be a happy ending. The story ends prematurely, with a bullet through the temple. The police find the body slouched over a laptop, brains blown sideways. The window’s shattered; gunman must’ve been outside. They’re long gone now, whoever they are. The only people around that foggy night are a couple of blue uniforms and one corpse, body turning blue in its own morbid way. Blood seeps into the carpet and into the stacks and stacks of undistributed flyers. The police tape it off in bright yellows and blacks. Here’s one more chapter of their murder mystery, and no resolution in sight. They won’t get to this case for a while. Too many cold bodies, not enough warm ones. They just don’t have the budget, and there’s nothing they can do about it now. Rough. Too bad. But that’s reality. The end. |
![distortion [D4-N6] F33cN69](https://i.imgur.com/F33cN69.png)
| Ardonye was killed. They were town. A prolific filmmaker, Ardonye graduated from the ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ community college with credentials in video production before moving back to the town of ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙. Described as an “eccentric” theorist by friends, with an interest in extraterrestrials and fantasy, Ardonye created a series of pseudo-documentaries over the past few years based on various scientific and political topics, which they released for free viewing on video-sharing sites. Ardonye leaves behind a mother, ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙, a father, ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙, and a sister, ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙. In lieu of flowers, views and subscriptions of Ardonye's videos at [LINK REMOVED DUE TO PROFANITY] would be appreciated, as stated by Ardonye's final will. drandahl was killed. They were town. A lifelong resident of ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙, drandahl found enjoyment in hobbies such as team sports and reading, and enjoyed going on trips to the local lake during the summer with family. Once known in the town as dependable and reliable, friends remarked that after the passing of drandahl’s brother, drandahl became noticeably more withdrawn and silent, keeping to themselves most of the time. Predeceased by a brother, ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙. Upon the request of the family, a private service will be held with close relatives. Rasei was killed. They were town. Rasei was best known as a prolific author who published crime thrillers under the pen name ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙. They began their foray into politics, declaring their candidacy early last year in the upcoming mayoral election. In a recent opinion poll published in last month’s issue of the ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙ paper, Rasei came out with a two-point lead over their opponent, the incumbent mayor ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙. Rasei’s estate is holding a memorial service open to all fans and political supporters. Mr. Gerbear was revived! DAY FOURPlease vote for whom you would like to lynch. You have unlimited vote changes. Phase ends at 7pm PST. PMs will be sent out at that time. Rollover will be posted at 8pm PST. Please PM all actions to nautilus. ?T : ?M |
Last edited by nautilus on Thu Aug 25, 2016 9:57 pm; edited 5 times in total
