( KILL LOG - WEEK 3, MARTY )

[abhoth]

[The first thing Marty will notice is the fact that, for some reason or another, he's no longer where he fell asleep last night.

Or, perhaps that won't be the first thing to captivate his attention. Perhaps it'll be the mess of blood in the Lounge — grotesque messages written in blood and a coppery stench filling the air. There is a corpse nearby; Rachel is slumped over in her wheelchair, still and unmoving. In his hand is a knife.

This seems kind of unfortunate.]

Comments

[perceptions]

Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself. I find it pretty hard to believe you just woke up, knife in hand, to a corpse. [She scoffs.] Or what? Are you gonna say the Ghost did it?

[zombiearm]

If I had to make an educated guess, that would probably be it. I guess we'll see if I end up with a fun new tattoo or something, won't we?

[But.]

What happened to your face, Mira?

[His voice is a little more forceful this time.]

[perceptions]

[She pauses for a moment, trying to see if she can hold off until the grandfather clock tolls for 8am. Goddammit, she may not have timed this properly after all. What a pain in the ass. This is why she's a serial killer and not a crime fiction novelist.]

How about I show you?

[She huffs, straightens her shoulders and then lets out a shriek before rushing right at Marty, nails out ready to strike. He might have the knife, but he doesn't know she hasn't actually possessed him yet. She just needs him to stab her before she does anything to him.]

[zombiearm]

[Even without the paranoia that's been going through him all week, he's been incredibly tense this entire time. When she comes towards him suddenly, he might not be expecting it, but he's able to move quickly all the same. He knows she'll be expecting him to use the knife, more than likely.

That's why, instead, he shoves his hand into his pocket without delay. He pulls out the taser that she isn't aware he has right in time for her to reach him, pushes the switch, and aims right for her face.]

Supremely uncool, man! Supremely uncool!

[perceptions]

[Fuck]

AGH!

[The taser slams right into her and she doesn't see it coming, thrown back by the shock to the ground. Shit. She didn't search his body at all when she brought him into the lounge - she figured if he had something on her, she wouldn't even be able to see it because of the item and weapon rules. Goddammit.]

You fucker. [She tries to collect herself, but she's completely frazzled. This isn't what she planned.] You're going to regret that.

[zombiearm]

Yeah, well, I guess we're both fairly unhappy with each other at the moment!

[But that being said, he's using this opportunity to try to make a getaway. Of course, he doesn't realize she hasn't already possessed him, so he's assuming the taser will have bought him enough time to actually do so.

He's also raising both middle fingers high at her as he tries to leave, as he does.]

[perceptions]

[For a moment her expression is still of rage, even as he flips his birds, but then it goes blank. Then, a calm smile.]

You got really unlucky Marty. That's all this is. Too bad.

[Her expression then turns blank once more. And she collapses, the strings cut and her body now only an empty container. In the next instance, Marty is going to suddenly feel something trying to claw its way into his consciousness. Trying to take control of him.]

[zombiearm]

[He thinks the sudden absence of anger and her words are meant to bait him into halting longer so she can figure out another tactic, so he keeps going. Even when she collapses, he doesn't stop moving. It's only when that sensation comes over him that he hesitates, a hand going to his head in surprise and horror.]

Oh, for fuck's sake— come on!

[He continues to take a few steps away, but they're more stumbling and uncertain.]

[perceptions]

i̸̶̫̻̲̘̳̪͖̲̯̻̥̯̫͚͈̣͔̬T̢̳̲̘̜̳͓̜̫͜ͅ'͔͔̝̻͉͇̀͘͝S̴̵̲̝̳̮͈͉̥͈̘͎̗̥͜͜ͅͅ ̴̢̨̫̳̠̜̬̼̺̯̦̞̕͢ͅŅ̸̛͙̫̻̬͍̦̳͍̗͜O̧̞̟͈͉͓̥̣͈̩̦͈̲̦̩͕͢͠͞ͅͅ ̵̴̧͉̥̹͈̜̦͍͓͙̖̫̬̣̗̩̗͕͘͡ͅĢ̧͓̠̪̮͙̦͙̠̦͕̗͈͝o̷̗̜͚̲͖̳̕͟͞O̵̳̬̱̼̖̫̖͓̕͜͝Ḑ̧͖̘̻̜͉̦͢͞
̨̭̹͚̬̯̙̲̦͓̙̹̬̥̼͈̻̥͠Í̸̭̪̺̪̼̘̱̜̥̱̲̭́'͏̲̟͚̯͙̤̦̠̦̳́͝ḿ̴͓̖̮͎̫̣̖̹̥̹̝̬̠̪̤̮̩̺͢ ̷̥̯̯͖́͜A̧̖̱̟̖̘̬͕͈͎͍̯͚̬̠͖͙͞ͅĻ̶̡̣̟̫̪̯̗͜͝r̵̙̦̲͉̮̱̙̲̭̖̦͘̕͠͞ͅE̳̗̘̰̘̮͈͍͠͝ą̸̵̞̰͇̟̯̝̖͘ͅD̡҉̢̩̺̫̙̗̦̩͍̥̻͚̙͓͉̼̜͉̮ͅY̴̡͖̟̲̬͕̰̼̖̫͉̟̺ ̴͏̶̡̣̝̣̦̺̣͈̗̠͍̥̥̣̱͟i̢̧͖̟̻͕̮̱͍̹̰̟̺̮̬̥͘ͅǹ̵̸̟̘̯͚̯͚̲͎̗̪ͅS͝͏̴̧̮̤̬̦̙̘́I̧̳͕̘̫̩̝̰͓͖͖̝͔͉̕͜D̸́͡͏̪̘̙̼͓̠̗̺̟͙͍̗͈̙̲̻ͅĘ̛͉̙̟̯̱̠̙͔͎͚̖̣͈̰̳̜̕͢͢ ̷̣̻̜̕ͅÝ̜͖̲̥̩̤̱͖̻̩̼̣̹̬͢͢Ǫ͏̸̵̟̠̯͕̝̼͓̤͉̫̳̫̘̩͍̙͡Ų̴̴̴̲̜̻͓̝̜̥̪͓̱̼̼̳̙



[That voice won't come from anywhere in the silent corridor though. It's coming from within his mind, as whatever just crawled in is working to overtake his consciousness, lulling him into darkness. He won't even get to be a standby passenger. No one can know what she has done, no one can be left to tell the tale.

After all... three can keep a secret if two are dead.]