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Post by Rick Fader on Feb 18, 2012 20:31:46 GMT -5
As Rick looked back, he saw his attempt to spark infighting was very successful. The Demon Chair toothily grinned as he turned back onto the path. Though he could hear it, he didn't stick around long enough to watch the two dogs go at it. As he mumbled earlier, he had the situation to attend to involving people. Thankfully at least, the source of the screams weren't too far away, so Rick ducked into the alleyway quickly.
Rick looked around the dark alley. His running speed slowed to a cautious walking pace. He didn't know if he was going to be dealing with the gunman, or his opposition. At this point, the only enemy he had encountered was a trio of pissed off undead dogs, with only one of the three "dead." However, much to Rick's surprise, it was two cops, one with a pipe rammed through his chest, the other shot five times in the chest, with one in the eye. The officer with the gun struggled for breath, quickly dying in the process.
"Holy fucking shit!", shouted Rick at the site of the two officers. The one with a pipe through his chest rolled over. Rick gave the dying officer a cautious look. "C..Creed.. Creed knows.. started.. the station.. Cr.. ee..", said the officer, struggling through his last words before he died. The Demon Chair quickly looked around him, seeing the revolver in the officer's hands, as well as the other dirtied man.
For the sake of taking precautions, the first thing Rick would do would be to take the dropped revolver away, transforming his hands into straps and rolling it towards him before grabbing it. The teenager would then examine the revolver, pushing the drum out to see if the officer had reloaded the gun, finding it empty. "A six shooter, seems like standard issue. Maybe if the poor fucker had a semi-automatic pistol, he'd probably be okay. . .", he thought to himself, reflecting on the entire drum being emptied into who was obviously Brad, and the pauses between shots. "Apparently, fuckers who get. . . whatever it is that's doin' this shit aren't going to go down with attacks against the torso, but apparently go down when the brain is destroyed, most likely decapitation, and possibly bludgeoning. . .", he thought to himself.
The Demon Chair then raced out of the alley, pocketing the emptied revolver. His next destination would be the police station. As Rick got to the end of the street, he examined the nearby street sign, and then went in the direction according to his map that would lead him towards the Peaty Stream Police Station. The revolver wouldn't be used for combat, due to the fact that Rick had no training in the use of firearms, nor would he attempt to use them again. Especially not after Kansas City. So what would Rick do with it? If someone were available at the police station, the first thing he would do would be to turn the weapon in.
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Post by terralventhe on Mar 4, 2012 4:05:53 GMT -5
Current Music: [HERE] Current Ambience: [Dark alley][/right][/sup] It was strange, really, when one stopped to think about it. Even if the bus stop was fairly abandoned, and the same as the alley and such.. wasn't this a bit too much? Not a sight nor sound of another human being all throughout town. The cars were perfectly fine, so it didn't look like anything had been trashed or anyone had scrambled to leave in a hurry.. and a few houses still had the lights on in the windows, but.. there was no sign of anyone at all. Really, the sole life that the Weapon would have encountered since getting off the bus was some questionable mutts and a dying cop.. 'They're probably just all hiding inside until the crisis is over..'That's what the strange and appeasing voice would seem to say, instincts being lulled into a sense of security over the situation. Yeah, they're all hiding. That seemed to make sense. After all, there were gunshots just a while ago and who knows how many people might've freaked out over the dogs alone. Such thoughts would seem to come as if on their own, all the whilst a feeling urgance would grow. 'Better get to that police station, Ricky. Don't wanna risk losing the only lead, after all.'The remaining trip up the street to the station, at any rate, was oddly uneventful, given the violent greeting he'd had received from the dogs and the police officers.. quiet. Such total quiet, as the lone police station eventually came into sight across one of the roads. ..The place didn't look any less abandoned than any of the other places. No cars, either. The lights were still on, at least, catching on the thick misty fog that continued to layer itself over every part of the town's buildings and structures. The whole place had that same aura of authority that most government buildings seemed to have, but with the deadening silence and the lifeless air about the place, that aura seemed somehow darker, more oppressive than anything else..
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Post by Rick Fader on Mar 4, 2012 4:55:27 GMT -5
As Rick ran down the streets, he couldn't help but notice the streets were deserted. Considering his "welcome" earlier, he found it very strange. 'They're probably just all hiding inside until the crisis is over..', he "thought" to himself. It seemed like a logical conclusion. After all, there are mindless zombies going on a killing frenzy throughout the town, and earlier there was gunfire, so they must just be hiding inside. However, Rick couldn't dwell on what was going on too much. 'Better get to that police station, Ricky. Don't wanna risk losing the only lead, after all.', he "thought" to himself again, the objective mainly in mind.
The rest of the run over itself was uneventful, boring even. And while he did have the objective in mind, he was kind of itching for something to slaughter. But then, he could lose his only lead on the case, and ultimately fuck things up, rendering what little progress he made over the past two years moot, possibly even losing his Wire Arms before he could really use them. All because of his massive urge to kill.
Eventually, he reached the police station. No cars were in sight, but the lights were on inside of the building. The place itself looked like any other police station he had been to. However, something about this one felt very wrong. It felt as if the place was dead, and yet sinister at the same time.
The first thing Rick would do was pull his Student ID out of his wallet and hold his hands up. This time, he was coming into the station armed. Who knew if there were officers in there or not, or just this Creed the fallen officer spoke of. Either way, he would have to show that he was indeed on their side, and that he came in peace. The Demon Chair slowly opened the door to the police station, and crept inside.
"Hello?", he shouted, his voice resonating down the halls of the building. "I'm with Shibusen, and I've come to investigate the mysterious events surrounding Peaty Stream!", he called out. "Is there a "Creed" in this building?", he called out again. Deep down inside, he was hoping that whatever was going down wasn't going to attack him in the form of rabid cops, or his lead. Calling out someone was a risk in itself, but if sentient people were in here, he'd be okay. If not, he would have to attack them. Already, the Demon Chair was looking around, seeing what he could use to grab to fight back in the event of an attack.
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Post by terralventhe on Mar 6, 2012 5:23:40 GMT -5
The Weapon's calls would echo and bounce off the walls of the wide-open lobby of the police station. The place looked somewhat impressive for a small-time station, at least, with plenty of open space for the officers' desks and a reception area, seperated by a few well-placed partitions. A series of pillars positioned on each side of the lobby's entrance on each side mannaged to give an impression of a leading path towards a series of steps from which a lone elevator could be seen, though the presence of radiators on each pillar managed to keep a pleasant reminder of the humble nature of the place.. lifeless as it was. On the wall beside the elevator, on the other hand, there seemed to be a moderate map of the station - obviously omitting any specific locales such as evidence rooms and the police armory, though a few other areas such as the office of the police chief, the prison cells and other such parts of the station were clearly marked. Desks that should have had officers finishing any late paperwork or pulling nightshifts were empty, and cups of half-finished coffee rested on the occasional desk corner. At the far corner of the room, a lone table sat with a coffee machine and a box of pastries, abandoned seemingly. ..Empty. All empty. That seemed to be becoming a recurring theme with this town; the utter and total lack of any human life, save for a lone dying cop.. 'Well, until even he kicked it.. Guess the law here is pretty useless, then.'..What seemed perhaps a little odd was the sight of one of the computer screens being left on, as if whatever sloppy cop had forgotten to shut off his machine before leaving and even stranger still would be the coincidental page that the screen had been left on.. the profile of a man named 'Creed, Louis' along with a few other pieces of personal information, among them being the notation of 'In Custody'. 'Where are you, Creedy.. No time for hide-and-seek, ya know.'
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Post by Rick Fader on Mar 7, 2012 2:23:16 GMT -5
As Rick roamed the station, he started to lower his arms. The place was mysteriously deserted. Sure, the rest of the town looked like a pile of shit, and the only greetings he got were three pissed off zombie dogs, and a cop who died from a pipe to the chest delivered by what seemed to be a zombie cop. Hell, running around the town gave him the impression that the people jumped ship at some point. However, it seemed as if the cops had just abandoned the station. Rick looked towards the elevator. Right near it was a public map of the station. The Demon Chair quickly rushed over to it, and examined it. He took note of the locations that could be noted, such as the holding cells and the Chief's office. However, nothing like the armory or evidence room could be found on the map, what with it being for civilian use. Rick continued to look around the offices for clues. As he passed by the desks, he found half-finished cups of coffee. Right near the coffee machine was a box of pastries. From the looks of it, they seemed to be recent. 'Looks like whatever the hell went down here happened recently', he thought to himself as he walked around the office. Eventually, he spotted the active computer. Rick ran over to the computer, but then stopped dead in his tracks. His breathing became troubled, he fell to his knees. Frantically, he fumbled around his pocket for his inhaler. After what seemed like an eternity, the Demon Chair finally grabbed it, and put it into his mouth. Three pumps later, the Demon Chair’s asthma attack was dealt with. So far, the emptiness was really strange. So far, he had found no officers or civilians in the station. The only "life" he encountered in the town was an officer impaled by a pipe. 'Well, until even he kicked it.. Guess the law here is pretty useless, then.', “thought” the Demon Chair. Nearby was the conveniently active computer. It either seemed like a sloppy cop forgot to turn it off, or they were in the middle of looking something over before a big disappearance. However, it seemed too convenient that it was currently on a page about Louis Creed, the man who allegedly had the answers he desperately needed. The Demon Chair glanced around him before hovering over the computer screen and navigating the page on Louis Creed. The most important fact that Rick found was that Creed himself was deemed in custody. Rick looked up the charges the man faced before peeling himself away from the screen. 'Where are you, Creedy.. No time for hide-and-seek, ya know.', he “thought” again. However, the most logical place to check for the man would be the holding cells. Having noted the pathway to the Holding Cells, the Demon Chair made haste towards the area, in search of Louis Creed, his only lead as of now. (YEY 50 POSTS )
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Post by terralventhe on Mar 30, 2012 4:59:21 GMT -5
On the page dedicated to the man known as Louis Creed there wasn't much as far as an extensive criminal record went, just the mugshot of a dark-haired, middle-aged man with slim, really almost gaunt, features.. as if the man hadn't seen a wink of sleep, a notion backed by the unshaven stubble coating his face. His record, at the very least, seemed fairly typical of any person.. the usual minor offenses listed of years ago acts like drunk driving and a few teen misconducts in a different state.. at least up until the charges that he was being confined in this town for came up: Several charges of suspected manslaughter and arson. His assigned imprisonment, at least, had been labeled as CELL #2. The way to which involved heading down a long corridor to the left of the elevator.. The walk there was filled with an unsettling degree of silence. The station seemed to be well and truly abandoned in every single way.. there were several cases of office doors being left ajar, and the occasional spill of paperwork as if someone had either dropped something in a hurry, or simply had been interrupted in the midst of picking them up. Despite this, however, there were no signs of actual conflict. No blood-spatters, no bullet casings or signs of gunfire or a struggle, or any actual damage save for a bit of a mess. Whatever had cleared out the place had seemingly done so without any kind of violence backing it.. Current Music: [HERE] Current Ambience: [Prison Hall][/right][/sup] ..inevitably, the Shibusen student would find his way, at long last, at the door leading into the prison corridor. Despite the fact that it would normally probably be locked tightly, the door, like so many other doors in this place, was haphazardly left open. From within, the sound of a half-dead ventilation system droned a murmurous, choked up humming sound that carried throughout the place. The sole source of light radiating the place coming from the light just above the entry door, with the end of the narrow corridor growing ever dimmer and gloomier, until the very edge of the hall's end was almost completely obscured by shadow. Starting from the door the cells were labeled, starting with 1, followed by the cell numbered 2, drawing attention to itself as the would-be jail cell of Louis Creed, with its rather telling detail of being the only cell with the lights on.. all others consomed by the oppressive gloom and shadow of the poorly-lit prison habitat. Were he to approach, the Weapon would find a curled up heap beneath a blanket in the corner of the cell, muttering, whispering to itself whilst somehow attempting to shrink itself hopelessly further beneath the blanket. Shudders and violent spasms beneath the sheet of cloth almost shaking it off, before its hidden inhabitant quickly pulled and tucked at it, once more shrinking beneath it and huddling up to the space between the cell's walls like some pitiful, simpering mess..
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Post by Rick Fader on Mar 30, 2012 23:43:10 GMT -5
From what Rick had read, Louis Creed seemed like a pleasant fellow. Drunk driving, teenage mistakes, minor shit until it came to the town. Manslaughter and arson charges had brought the man in question to cell number two. Hell, the man looked like a typical creepy nut job. Scrawny, dark-haired, middle aged, tired, and unshaven. "And he's a stereotype, how fuckin' nice. . .", he thought to himself as he started down the path towards the cells.
The trip down the long-ass corridor was a strange one. Most of the doors to the offices were left wide open. The only sign of human presence were papers dropped onto the floor in sloppy piles, as if they had been abandoned alongside everything else. Without shell casings and blood-spatter, it looked like a mass alien abduction or something. But then, he'd hopefully make it to Creed in time to get some answers.
Eventually, Rick made it to the cell block. What should've been locked up tightly was left open. Cautiously, the Demon Chair stepped through the open door towards the holding cell, the sounds of the defunct ventilation system adding life to the seemingly lifeless cell block. As Rick would pass the door, he would notice the hall getting darker and darker as it went further, eventually fading to pitch black.
Cell number two stood out the most, as it was the only one with light, and possibly the only one with an occupant. Within the cell was a man under the covers. The man, most likely Louis Creed, was shaking under the covers, pulling them quickly over himself before they could fully come off. The Demon Chair sighed, weighing his options. He could either be nice to the man, try to win his trust. Or he could be direct, and most likely end up being a dick.
"Yo, Louie-boy!", greeted Rick loudly, attempting to get the man's attention. "I'm with Shibusen, and I heard you could situate me with some goddamn answers as to what's happening in this big bag o' shit you call Peaty Stream.", he told the man under the covers. However, the possibility of Louis being afflicted with whatever was going on ran through his mind. So Rick watched him cautiously, waiting to counterattack if necessary.
"So far, I've encountered crazy ass fucking zombie dogs, two dead boys in blue - one apparently a zombie before he got his brains blown out, and another non-zombie with a pipe through his chest, last I checked. Before his little flesh wound caused him to kick the bucket, he told me to seek you out here. . .", he told the person in hiding.
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Post by terralventhe on Mar 31, 2012 0:55:40 GMT -5
"..Zombies..?" came the voice murmuring beneath the blanket. It sounded terrified, like the person was afraid of breathing too loudly and drawing some kind of attention to himself. "Not.. they're not.. nhmf.. nahah.." a nervous, broken chuckle slipped from the man beneath the blanket, as if he'd been trying to contain it but failing miserably to do so, either because it was just too amusing or, judging by the terror dripping from the man's voice, just too hopeless not to laugh at.. "Not.. zombies.. but.. no! Not! They're n-not! Not.." suddenly, the man leapt from beneath the cover of his blanket.. a man dressed in dirt-covered jeans and a blood-soaked shirt with cuts all over his arms.. crashing against the bars was the face of Louis Creed, his eyes looking like they were about to jump from his eyes as he stared a despairing gaze at the young student.. his hair seemed greying out in some places, even though the man was listed as only being in his late thirties or so.. the man looked, simply put, like he'd been dragged through hell, "..Not.. people!"Current Music: [HERE] Current Ambience: [The Madness of Creed][/right][/sup] Louis Creed broke off laughing at that, his eyes seeming to stare off into some unseen distance as his facial features twisted into something horrible, almost inhuman, as if the man had been broken beyond all remaining signs of sanity and comprehensibility. The man slumped to his knees, hands clasping at the bars as he grinned, "I nearly got it right that time.. She hadn't been dead that long.. not that time.. It was going to work. He said.. I said? I said.. I knew.. knew it was going to work.. it was definitely going to work that time, so.."Again the man started to laugh, raising his head and then banging it against the bars aimlessly, pitiably, "Then she brought him back.. she brought him back, and ohh.. we were gonna be a family again, hahaha.. just one big happy family.. Disneyland.. you know, in Florida? Yeah, Florida.. just me.. and Ellie, and Rachel and.. and.. " At that moment, Louis Creed's face turned up towards the student, his face a mask of terror and almost horrified awe, as if the man was speaking of something terrible, but worthy of divine reverance, as he hissed from his lips, the words shaky and as broken as the man himself, "..Oz ́th͝e͟ ͝Gw̨e͟aţ and̀ ̢Te̸w͘wible.. "
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Post by Rick Fader on Mar 31, 2012 10:51:20 GMT -5
"..Zombies..?", responded the terrified voice of the man in hiding. Thankfully, it sounded as if Louis Creed hadn't become whatever it was that Bradley and the dogs had ended up becoming. "Not.. they're not.. nhmf.. nahah..", he said, breaking off into a nervous chuckle, one that he seemed to have failed to stifle. "Not.. zombies.. but.. no! Not! They're n-not! Not..", said Louis, then leaping from the bed, and into the bars. To say the poor bastard looked like shit was an understatement. Dirty jeans, blood caked shirt, and assorted cuts across his arms were all noticed by the Demon Chair. Rick looked at the man as he gazed at him, his eyes looking like they could pop out of his skull at any time. Despite his listed age, his hairs were already graying around the edges. "Well, looks like someone's had a shitty day. . .", he thought to himself.
"..Not.. people!", he finally finished, breaking off into a mad cackle. "Then what the fuck are they?", asked the Demon Chair, his tone not of hostility, but confusion. At this point, Rick could only watch as the man stared into the distance, his face contorting with what seemed to be insanity. He would watch as the man slumped to his knees, hands still grasping the bars. "I nearly got it right that time.. She hadn't been dead that long.. not that time.. It was going to work. He said.. I said? I said.. I knew.. knew it was going to work.. it was definitely going to work that time, so..", started Louis before breaking off into maniacal laughter. The man started to bang his head against the bars.
"Then she brought him back.. she brought him back, and ohh.. we were gonna be a family again, hahaha.. just one big happy family.. Disneyland.. you know, in Florida? Yeah, Florida.. just me.. and Ellie, and Rachel and.. and.. ", he continued. He then looked at Rick again, this time, his expression being a terrified one. "Oz ́th͝e͟ ͝Gw̨e͟aţ and̀ ̢Te̸w͘wible", spoke the man with a broken, shaky hiss.
"The Wizard of Oz!?, asked the Demon Chair, understanding the reference, despite the seeming speech impediment. “The fuck does the ‘Wonderful Wizard’ have to do with this shit?”, he asked the prematurely aging man.
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Post by terralventhe on Mar 31, 2012 17:25:38 GMT -5
At that Creed's banging on the bars on seemed to become more severe, cuts and bruises to his forehead forming as the man looked like he was about to crack his skull open on it, "No.. no, no, no, NO!!" the man grasped at the bars firmly, dragging himself up to a hunched stance.. blood trickled down the man's face as his bug-eyed, eerie stare became fixated on the youth, "Not a wizard, not really. Not completely, or really at all, but not entirely.. Whisks you away like there ain't nothin' to it," at that Creed made a skittering gesture with his fingers, like some disturbed finger-parasite darting back and forth, before he pinched at the air and made a tugging gesture, "Pulls your strings, gets you to go up there. Makes you want it, makes you wanna tell others about it.. makes you wanna.. tell.." at that moment Creed's expression darkened, as he leapt away from the bars, a maddened grin on his face, "Oh, no, no, no.. you're not gonna get me to tell you, no you're not. I won't take you there - I won't be your Jud, you hear me?! Not me! NOT! ME!" Louis Creed fell into a crouch, arms wrapped over his head as if he was trying desperately to cover his ears, a whimper like a kicked animal wailing from him.
"Oz ́th͝e͟ ͝Gw̨e͟aţ and̀ ̢Te̸w͘wible.. he fell off the wall and took him, you see.. he took him, but then he gave him back.. I brought him to where they bury them and he gave.. gave him back.. he gave Rachel back too.. but it wasn't.. they weren't.. wasn't really.. you see? Don't you see?"
'Took them where? Dammit, Louis, tell me where you took them!' came the urgent, insistant thought.. as if somehow that was the key upon which all of this hung. Where did Louis take 'them'.. somehow that seemed like the answer to this whole freakshow.
At that Creed started to rock back and forth, beating the back of his head with his hands while laughing in that broken, horrible disoriented manner of his, "Ahah.. ahahaha.. hahahaha.. he's here.. it.. even after everything he's.. no.. I.. can't tell you.. I won't.. Won't! N-Nrghooh.. no!" the man seemed like he was choking on his own words, falling onto his side, still curled up in a fetal position while he beat away at his head as if trying to knock something loose from it.
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Post by Rick Fader on Apr 1, 2012 0:57:40 GMT -5
Upon asking the man his question, he resumed smashing his head against the cell bars. This time however, the practice was more severe, as he could see the man starting to get injured, to the point where he might’ve split his head open. "No.. no, no, no, NO!!", cried out the man as he slowly rose to his feet, blood trickling down his injured head. "Not a wizard, not really. Not completely, or really at all, but not entirely.. Whisks you away like there ain't nothin' to it", said the insane man. His hands then made a skittering gesture, before pinching at something in the air, followed by a tugging gesture.
"Pulls your strings, gets you to go up there. Makes you want it, makes you wanna tell others about it.. makes you wanna.. tell.." , said the madman before his expression went dark, an insane grin forming across his scruffy features. "Oh, no, no, no.. you're not gonna get me to tell you, no you're not. I won't take you there - I won't be your Jud, you hear me?! Not me! NOT! ME!" , yelled out the man, going into a crouch and covering his ears.
"Oz ́th͝e͟ ͝Gw̨e͟aţ and̀ ̢Te̸w͘wible.. he fell off the wall and took him, you see.. he took him, but then he gave him back.. I brought him to where they bury them and he gave.. gave him back.. he gave Rachel back too.. but it wasn't.. they weren't.. wasn't really.. you see? Don't you see?" , said the man. At that point, it started to clarify as to what happened. Something in this town was bringing back people from the dead, but at the same time, bringing them back as something more sinister, as seen with the three dogs and Bradley.
'Took them where? Dammit, Louis, tell me where you took them!' , the “thought” came up again, this time with a sense of urgency. It was what he needed to take care of this mission successfully. If he could find whatever was causing all of this, then maybe he could stop it. But then, maybe he couldn’t.
"Ahah.. ahahaha.. hahahaha.. he's here.. it.. even after everything he's.. no.. I.. can't tell you.. I won't.. Won't! N-Nrghooh.. no!" , said the man, choking on his own words as he went into a fetal position. And at that moment, frustration caught up with the Demon Chair. His hand balled up tightly into a fist, the only thing stopping him from just kicking the man was the fact that the set of bars separated the two. “God-fucking-damnit, why the fuck won’t you fuckin’ tell me!?” , shouted Rick at the top of his lungs. “I’m here to save this goddamn town from this piece of shit, and I need the location in order to defeat it! Now, unless you tell me where these stiffs get to start movin’ again, then you’re fuckin’ useless to me. . .” , stated the blue-haired teenager, his tone growing cold with those last words. Frankly, he was tired of this man’s insane ramblings. And while it did something to narrow down the nature of the dogs and the cop, he needed to know where it all happened.
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Post by terralventhe on Apr 17, 2012 9:14:38 GMT -5
There was a pause. A long one. For a moment it almost seemed like Creed had stopped breathing, he seemed so perfectly still and almost tranquil. And then he twitched. Once. Twice. And then he uncurled.. slipping from his fetal position as he raised his head, and it seemed almost like the madness had cleared from the man's posture and demeanour altogether, as he slowly crawled to his feet, his head hung low as if in some manner of self-shaming contemplation.
And then he raised his head.. and the face of a broken man met the student's gaze. An expression of despairing inability to fight back, of someone who had all of the will beaten out of him. He seemed to shudder, albeit only for a fraction of a moment, before he spoke.. his voice seeming not altogether there, and yet all the more composed than it had been in the entirity of their discussion thusfar..
"I̧'ll take͝ ̵yơu҉ t̀h̶er͢e.̶." ..that's what the man standing, shoulders slumped and looking more pitiful than ever he had during his wailing, lunatic ramblings, ".͘.͡I͜'l҉l ͝take͘ yo͜u̵ to t͟he͝ Mi͏cm͞ac͠ ́bur̷ia̶l͜ ̀gr̢oun̷ds.."
As he spoke, he shuffled towards the bars, reaching out and grasping one of the bars firmly, his cold, disshelved face staring at the youth with a look of fatigued misery, "Ǵet me out ͘o͏f͟ th́is ̡ce̶lĺ and ͜I͟'ĺl̀ ͜t͞a͟ke ͟you ̸the͞r͘e." His tone was neither demanding nor pleading.. it simply stated the situation as it was. Creed was going to help, but only in exchange for being released. There was a strange kind of finality in the way he had said it, a tone that seemed to imply that this was not something he was going to debate on or discuss. The price was named, and that was all there was to it for Creed.
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Post by Rick Fader on Apr 18, 2012 0:14:41 GMT -5
After Rick's angry shout resonated through the jail hall, tense silence followed. Rick didn't know what would come of his shouting. Obviously, the blue-haired teenager was hoping the crazy fuck would cooperate. However, the man could easily tell him to fuck off. Or worse, he could lead him on a wild goose chase under the false promise that he'd lead him to the site of whatever the cause of all this was.
Eventually, the man snapped out of his seemingly dead state. The man gave Rick a gaze that frankly had the teenager worried. It looked as if the man had been sucked dry of his willpower. The man shuddered before speaking up. "I̧'ll take͝ ̵yơu҉ t̀h̶er͢e.̶.", said the former doctor as he stood up once again, his shoulders slumped more pitifully than ever. ".͘.͡I͜'l҉l ͝take͘ yo͜u̵ to t͟he͝ Mi͏cm͞ac͠ ́bur̷ia̶l͜ ̀gr̢oun̷ds..", spoke the man as she shuffled towards the bars keeping him in place. The man reached out and grasped the bars tightly, his stare tired and miserable.
"Ǵet me out ͘o͏f͟ th́is ̡ce̶lĺ and ͜I͟'ĺl̀ ͜t͞a͟ke ͟you ̸the͞r͘e.", stated the insane man. Rick nodded, looking down at the area where the keys would be inserted in order to unlock the holding cell. Rick glanced around the hallway, eventually seeing a rack full of cell keys. Rick immediately grabbed the key for cell number two.
As the Demon Chair walked back to free the madman from his imprisonment, he had mulled over the consequences in his head. Whenever Johnny Law came back from his hole, he'd be pissed to see that Rick released a prisoner in exchange for information. Hell, Shibusen would most likely be pissed that he let this man out onto the streets. But then, he saw no alternative. The burial grounds in question were not marked on the local map. Hell, aside from Louis, he had no way of knowing how to get there. So taking his chances was the only way he could get this over with.
The Demon Chair turned the key to cell two, and opened the door for the prisoner. Meanwhile, the teenager was on guard for an attempt to throw him into the jail cell while he ran off. "Alright, lead the way. . .", he told Louis.
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Post by terralventhe on Jun 10, 2012 13:10:17 GMT -5
With a surprising degree of haste from a man previously huddled in a pile, whimpering, the man known as Louis Creed led the student out of the police station. Without word for argument or differentiation, he promptly 'secured' them a vehicle form the police station's parking lot, by virtue of a rock to the window.. "Ge͞t̸ ̡in̴. ͢We're going̶ ̴t̛o h́av͜e ͠t̸o ́h̕uŗr̨y̡ ̴if̶ ̡w̴e wąn̶t ͝to̷ ̀g̨et̸ ͝th͘ere̴ ̸wh̵i͝le ̢i͘t's͜ s͜ti̸ll̴ lìg͟h̛ţ eńou̢g̕h o̢ut̕.̨" he said, as if this foggy, dark atmosphere was the least of the darkness that was going to fall on the town of Peaty Stream.. Without any further allowances for rebuttal, the man then climbed into the car and started the engine. Waiting for the student to get in, upon whence they'd find themselves quickly headed out onto the main highway.. driving just a little ways out of town.. The Highway The highway grew darker the further from town that the car got, racing at risky, high speeds while the engine droned and accelerated loudly. The whole time, Creed remained silent.. his eyes fixated on the road ahead of him like a man obsessed with reaching his destination.. in the background, slightly drowned out by the sound of the engine, the radio played.. ..Suddenly, however, the radio's music was garbled.. stunted and reduced to static, with the music cutting in and out at random intervals, only broken up by the sound of a droning, eerie sound that almost sounded like a voice for a few moments, echoing its incoherent message of '..op.. ouis.. You can.. ill.. op..' before Creed reached down and turned the radio off. "We're almost there now.." He said, sounding slightly more agitated contrasted towards his previously calm self.. as if whatever rush he'd been on before was starting to gradually wear away and leave him frightened once more.. but despite this, he continued on driving.. ..The journey was over.. unusually fast, despite the fact that it seemed like they'd probably traveled at least a bit of distance, as Creed pulled the car over on the highway.. on one side of the road there was a house, fairly commonplace and homely-looking, whilst opposite it there was naught but the burned down ruins of a house that had once stood as the neighboring home. "We're here, kid.."
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Post by Rick Fader on Jun 16, 2012 2:51:55 GMT -5
Rick followed the man out of the police station. Surprisingly, the man made haste out of there. But then, who was Rick to question this? He liked the fact that Louis was in a hurry to get out. Hell, Rick was in a hurry to complete his mission, or at least get to the killing.
Once they got outside, Louis wasted no time in catching a ride. If one's definition of "catching a ride: translated into smashing a police cruiser's window in to hijack it, then that's exactly what happened. "Ge͞t̸ ̡in̴. ͢We're going̶ ̴t̛o h́av͜e ͠t̸o ́h̕uŗr̨y̡ ̴if̶ ̡w̴e wąn̶t ͝to̷ ̀g̨et̸ ͝th͘ere̴ ̸wh̵i͝le ̢i͘t's͜ s͜ti̸ll̴ lìg͟h̛ţ eńou̢g̕h o̢ut̕.̨", he told Rick. The man didn't allow Rick to challenge him before he started up the car. While he'd probably get into even more trouble for this, he didn't care right now, as it had to be done. The weapon got into the car quickly, buckling in and waited the ride out.
The whole ride through, Louis remained focused on the empty roads ahead. Rick remained silent as the two sped down the highway. The sounds of the Ramones brought a smile to his face. He wondered if Louis enjoyed them as well, or the cops here had good taste in music, and he didn't give a fuck.
But the joys of such music seemed to be cut short by the ominous voices in the radio. '..op.. ouis.. You can.. ill.. op..', the "voice" told them before Louis cut it off. Obviously, Creed just made out what Rick had made out in the veil of static that had communicated with them.
Before Rick could inquire, Louis spoke up. "We're almost there now..", he told him in a slightly more agitated tone. Something in the radio had gotten to him. Rick's eyes were widened, his mind trapped in debate. Was the transmission he heard on the bus someone speaking, or was it something fucked up in the town. Whatever had communicated with Creed didn't seem human at all.
But before Rick could muse on this, the car stopped. Rick looked around, seeing a common house on one side, while a burned down hovel that was once called home to someone. "Must be the place Creed apparently smoked. . .", he thought to himself as he got ready to open the car door.
"We're here, kid..", he told Rick.
Rick opened the car door quietly and quickly. The weapon swiftly climbed out of the stolen cruiser, and slammed the door. He then turned to face Louis from the other side of the car. "Alright, ready when you are. . .", commented the Demon Chair.
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