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1_800_hotline2019-06-15 12:00 pm
calloperators) wrote in 1_800_hotline2019-06-15 12:00 pm
Entry tags:
TRIAL 1 [DAY 4]
[The sound of rapidly approaching police sirens indicates that it's time to leave the crime scene.
When you reach the previously-defunct laundry room at the motel, you find that the door swings open easily. A wave of air carrying stench of rotting flesh immediately hits you in the face, accompanied the sound of flies buzzing incessantly, having finally being released from their disgusting prison. Two rotting corpses lay on the ground, both with gunshot wounds through their bodies. Curiously enough, these corpses are both wearing masks--one with a wolf mask, and another with a clown mask. From the general state of these corpses, their bodies appear to have been here for weeks. Some of you might feel a twinge of recognition at the sight of them, though you don't remember why.
Once you manage to look past the corpses, you'll find that there's an open door on the back wall with stairs leading down. Whatever washing machines that used to be here have been removed, leaving rusty impressions on the walls and floor. As you carefully make your way down the concrete steps, the air grows colder and mustier, and the sound of the radios fade. You eventually step into a dimly-lit chamber that only vaguely resembles a boiler room, as a series of pulpits have been arranged in rows, labeled by room number. Pyro's stand, of course, is conspicuously empty.
You realize that this has been the only time during your time here that you haven't heard any music at all.
Standing before all the pulpits at the front of the room, there's a CRT TV buzzing with static. As soon as everyone files in, the metal door swings shut with an abrupt CLANG and locks behind you. The static fills the silence for several minutes.
The screen flickers, and a face appears. His blonde hair is slicked back in an unnatural fashion, his plastic smile is almost permanently affixed to his face, and the suit he's wearing looks...far too shiny to be remotely real. His movements are jerky, occasionally changing completely in pose in view to the camera.
He opens his mouth and speaks in a stuttering, artificial tone, rising and falling with no sense of rhyme or reason.]
This IS M-M-Max HEADroom, and YOU are all all all HERE to catch a murderer! Your JOB is to find out who's g-g-g-g u i l t y, and I'm here to help move things along, in a sense. ense. ense. [A pause.] Then again, you're--all guilty of something, aren't you?
[And he throws back his head and laughs.]
< TRIAL START! >
When you reach the previously-defunct laundry room at the motel, you find that the door swings open easily. A wave of air carrying stench of rotting flesh immediately hits you in the face, accompanied the sound of flies buzzing incessantly, having finally being released from their disgusting prison. Two rotting corpses lay on the ground, both with gunshot wounds through their bodies. Curiously enough, these corpses are both wearing masks--one with a wolf mask, and another with a clown mask. From the general state of these corpses, their bodies appear to have been here for weeks. Some of you might feel a twinge of recognition at the sight of them, though you don't remember why.
Once you manage to look past the corpses, you'll find that there's an open door on the back wall with stairs leading down. Whatever washing machines that used to be here have been removed, leaving rusty impressions on the walls and floor. As you carefully make your way down the concrete steps, the air grows colder and mustier, and the sound of the radios fade. You eventually step into a dimly-lit chamber that only vaguely resembles a boiler room, as a series of pulpits have been arranged in rows, labeled by room number. Pyro's stand, of course, is conspicuously empty.
You realize that this has been the only time during your time here that you haven't heard any music at all.
Standing before all the pulpits at the front of the room, there's a CRT TV buzzing with static. As soon as everyone files in, the metal door swings shut with an abrupt CLANG and locks behind you. The static fills the silence for several minutes.
The screen flickers, and a face appears. His blonde hair is slicked back in an unnatural fashion, his plastic smile is almost permanently affixed to his face, and the suit he's wearing looks...far too shiny to be remotely real. His movements are jerky, occasionally changing completely in pose in view to the camera.
He opens his mouth and speaks in a stuttering, artificial tone, rising and falling with no sense of rhyme or reason.]
This IS M-M-Max HEADroom, and YOU are all all all HERE to catch a murderer! Your JOB is to find out who's g-g-g-g u i l t y, and I'm here to help move things along, in a sense. ense. ense. [A pause.] Then again, you're--all guilty of something, aren't you?
[And he throws back his head and laughs.]
< TRIAL START! >
EXECUTION: FEEDING THE FIRE (cw: fire, shooting)
Raymond Stantz. If you would please proceed to the front of the room.
[Ray, understandably, hesitates. He starts slowly shuffling off towards the television, hoping to delay the inevitable. Max has other plans. A trapdoor opens right in front of the television and steel fibers shoot out with remarkable speed. Ray lets out a yelp in surprise and instinctively moves to escape, but it's too late--the fibers have anchored themselves around his arms and drag him forward, into the dark pit below. The trapdoor slams shut, echoing throughout the chamber.
After a few moments of silence, the screen flickers and changes channels. Ray Stantz has been tied to what looks to be a stake with a large amount of kindling and firewood at his feet. There's the sound of something clicking, and suddenly, the whole pyre is alight. The camera zooms in on Ray's panicked expression as you hear the sound of Max Headroom, laughing like he's watching SNL. The faint sound of Genesis can be heard, but the screaming makes it difficult to pinpoint the source.
It's what Pyro would have wanted.
...However, burning someone at the stake takes a long time. You can feel heat rising at your feet, and some smoke is leaking through the invisible gaps in the floor. After about five minutes have passed, Max Headroom lets out a frustrated groan.]
C'mon, burn f-f-f-f-faster!
[But Ray's flesh doesn't listen. After a moment or two, there's a sharp click, like a gun being readied, and then--
BANG.
A shot rings out as a bullet wound appears in Ray's chest, a dark red stain spreading and staining his beautiful sweater. It barely takes a half a moment for Ray to collapse like a rag doll, the flames flickering up around him. A fire alarm goes off as the fire gets sprayed down by an unseen fire extinguisher. A white foam builds up over the scene, like snow falling on a quiet winter night.
There's an interminable silence.
The door to leave swings open.]
You're free to go. go. go.
[The TV blinks to static. The smell of burning flesh lingers in the air.]
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[Like, he's seen worse? But usually in battle.]
[...On the way out he tests the door a little, to see how freely it swings.]
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[No, he's not really gonna try.]
[...but does it look like he could if he tried.]
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....The real question is how any of you were getting oxygen during the entire trial.]
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[ like she's not even normally phased by this sort of stuff, but what the actual fuck was that? ]
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[ for him, anyway, she's not doing it. ]
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[All in all... he's not very impressed. There was just no skill to this murder.
Ah, well.]
Least the sucker's out of his misery now.
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what the fuck ]
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Testament has seen enough that he doesn't wince or look away at the horrid sight, but when he thinks he's done, he'll make his departure, silently. ]
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[ That's... None of that's good. She's out of here. ]