Shawn passed through the tunnel and into consciousness in the waking world.

From the carousel of random ideas came some order - a subtle awareness of who Shawn was under the flow of thoughts with their loose connections to the cave and Mr. Clayton. Of Bradford and what was the choice of acting...and of not acting. After a few moments more Shawn began to analyze these thoughts in a lazy way, perhaps these ideas were meant to be kept. Some were composed as if from a book Shawn once read, some were just silly. In another moment they were gone leaving no trace. If they were still in Shawn's head there was no bread crumb trail back to them. Shawn's eyelids flickered open to the room. No Cave. He closed them again, willing the carousel to return, for his mind to tumble back to dreams of the Cave, Little Stone. Bobby. And Ralph. And how to save them.

Then Shawn's eyes opened. He was standing in the middle of a room.

The adults at the table went into a huddle as soon as Shawn finished his lines, their faces hidden from his view. He looked at his shoes for a few moments before finding solace by staring out of the window of the high-rise, out toward where the sky met the ocean. Then they turned, lips all tilting up toward a smile. "You got it kid, go give your information to Margret outside."

Shawn knew he had a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it. But he was clearly at an audition, and just running from the room wouldn't take him to Bradford any faster. So he smiled, trying to remember what he was auditioning for. "Thank you for your time!" He headed out the door, trying to figure out the fastest way home.

Shawn walked right out of the room and through the door where Mom was waiting. She had an expectant look on her face. Unlike past memories that weren't 'real', this time, Shawn had no indication of what was and what wasn't. There was no realization of time or space. How much time had past since he was talking to Mr. Clayton? What movie was Shawn auditioning for? For which Director? And what building or studio was this?

These were obvious questions. But these were also questions that did not have an immediate answer. Or at least none that Shawn could resolve through memory alone.

"These are questions that do not have an immediate answer." Feddler said in the back of Shawn's mind.

"Well?" Mom said expectantly, looking at Shawn with a renewed interest, getting up from the couch. She looked like she was preparing for the worst. That Shawn didn't get the part.

Shawn instinctively switched to the brave and cheerful expression he gave his Mom whenever he was on these auditions. He met her gaze and smiled. "I think they liked me! We just have to give Margret our information and they'll let us know." The people had said he'd 'got it', but Shawn wasn't sure if that meant the part, the audition, or something else. Honestly, he wasn't even sure if the people he had been auditioning for were authorised to make the decision. He just had to be non-committal until he figured it out.

"Oh honey! I knew it! I knew it! I knew if you worked hard that you would get it it! I'm so proud of you. I'm so proud of you Shawn. I'm proud of you because you're following your calling.  Your doing what makes you happy. And you know what honey? That makes me so happy!" Mom beamed.

Then she grabbed a hold of Shawn in a bear hug and started to squeeze.

Shawn squeezed back, happy at Mom's reaction but not letting himself forget that he was in deep trouble right now. He looked up at her. "Thank you so much for helping me, Mom! Can we go home and celebrate?" Part of him wondered what kind of part he'd signed up for, but he could deal with that later. For now he had to figure out how to stop Bradford.

"First let's stop home honey! I can't wait to tell your father everything! I was right! I was right!" Mom gloated, nearly skipping in the air with self-righteous joy. "I knew you were a star!"

"Then we'll go out for ice cream!"

“That sounds great, Mom! I think Dad’ll be happy too!” Shawn was treading carefully, trying to seem excited but also move things along. He had to get back and find Bradford before he got to Bobby and Ralph.

During the ride home, all Mom talked about was how great Shawn was doing and how proud she was of him. When they pulled up to the house, everything was dark. It was clearly night time. Shawn stepped out of the car, his feet touching the familiar concrete driveway in front of his house.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Composure (only one success needed)

OOC:  20:30, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 1 success using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 2,9,3,3.  Wits + Composure

Something was amiss. The house was all dark from Shawn's vantage point on the driveway. And quiet. Not a single light was on inside of the house.

And that was odd.

Usually at least the front porch lights were on. Even if they weren't. Mom never let the light inside the house go dark. Especially if they were coming to pull up to the house. Whats more, it was late enough for Dad to be home. Though he could have been on the couch with the TV on.

The house looked abandoned.

Shawn noticed the strangeness, but he was so fixated on going after Bobby and Ralph that he pretended not to notice. “Mom, you should be the one to tell Dad! I’ve gotta go tell Bobby and Ralph!” Without waiting for an answer, he sprinted away, heading for Bobby and Ralph’s new old house.

"Shawn! No! Wait!" Mom shouted in almost a panicked, shrill voice. "Shawn! SHAWN!!!!"

"Just one second! And then you can play!!!" Mom shouted after Shawn with uncharacteristic urgency

Shawn wasn’t what had Mom all freaked out, but he played it off like he heard her, but didn’t understand her obvious urgency. He yelled back without breaking his stride. “It’ll just take a minute, I’ll be right back!”

Shawn ran down the block hoping to get to Bobby and Ralph's house. To see what was going on and what might be found. To find out how and why and all the other thoughts that raced through his mind. But most of all, to figure out if the threat of Mr. Clayton had taken root in the waking world.

But as he approached Bobby and Ralph's 'new'-old house, he realized that something was terribly wrong. There was something strange that hit the pit of Shawn's stomach.

"Something strange is going on. There is something wrong! Something isn't right! Not at all!" Feddler spoke up, in sudden and uncharacteristic panic.

Shawn found himself slowing down, hesitating in the face of his increasing feeling that something was going wrong, and Feddler's sudden panic. He looked at the house, trying to figure out the source of his sudden fear.

creak-creak...

creak-creak...

creak-creak...

That was the sound that came out of the darkness just down the road where Shawn was. A bicycle appeared, its chain creaking as the boy on top made its way up the hill. And just like that, Bobby came zooming up from a hill that led to the main street. He was pedaling fast and hard and heading directly towards Shawn.

Then as he made eye contact with Shawn, he bounced on the breaks, squeezing the handle bars so hard that Shawn could see in the moonlight the tense quivering of Bobby's hands and arms.

Bobby stared at Shawn panting like he had just gone on a cross-country bike race. He was only few feet away, but the look on his face was one of shock and confusion.

"Wh...What?" He asked looking at Shawn with disbelief.

Then another bicycle made its way up from behind Bobby. It pulled up right next to Bobby and stopped. Shawn could see that Michael was sitting on the bicycle's handle bars. Then a head poked out from behind Michael.

It was..Shawn head.

Shawn. On the bike. Shawn...

Shawn.

Or someone who looked....who was....Shawn?

Shawn had stopped outside the house to find the source of his feelings of foreboding, but had felt a surge of relief as Bobby came over the hill. Now he just had to find Bradford and... Whatever train of thought he was on immediately derailed as another him came over the hill on a bike with Michael in tow.

He squinted into the growing dimness, waiting for his eyes to adjust and reveal that it wasn't actually him there. But the other Shawn didn't go away. So he slowly raised his hand, like it was a mirror or something, and said, "Hi?" If it was him, maybe that meant he wasn't a threat?

With Michael riding on his handlebars, Shawn saw Bobby's reaction before he saw what was causing it. When he saw who was standing in the front yard, he only barely avoided letting his bike fall over and taking Michael with it. He managed to keep it together long enough to let Michael off and then let the bike clatter to the ground. He just said the first thing that popped into his head. "Bradford? Mr. Clayton? Is that you?"

Shawn furrowed his brow, at first genuinely surprised at the question. But when the shock of talking to himself wore off, he realized that would be exactly the sort of trickery that he'd suspect if he suddenly ran across himself in the middle of a yard. "Of course not! Are you?"

"What's going on here!??" Bobby asked in shock and surprise at the double-Shawns who were both speaking in the same tone of voice. He looked panicked. A slight spasm broke out on the left side of his face, the horror and the unbelievably of what had happened. What was apparently occurring. Something genuinely without explanation.

Bobby strained his vocals a second time but nothing came out, still he screamed.

Suddenly, his body wracked with raw sobs and he shook like a leaf. Fright consumed every cell in his body, swelling them with terror. Then he let out a gasping wail of terror and confusion.


"AhH!H!HH!H!"

Even Michael got off the handlebars and took a step back.

His eyes darted back and forth between the two Shawns, almost ignoring Bobby's growing insanity.

The skinny boy looked alert and ready to run like a gazelle that had spotted the movements of some predator lion in the bush.

But he said nothing.

Shawn's head immediately whipped around to Bobby, his screams immediately taking priority over whatever weird existential things were happening with the other Shawn - though he noticed out of the corner of his eye the other Shawn had the exact same reaction. He had to keep Bobby calmed down somehow. The other Shawn suddenly piped up. "Wait, Grant? What're you doing back from boarding school?"

Shawn felt a little irritated that he had to take the fake name, but he played along with Shawn anyway. "The water main burst, so they had to send us home until the start of the school year. I've gotta say, you've told me a lot about your friends, but they seem a little high-strung. Haven't they ever seen twins before?" Shawn approached the other Shawn to give himself a friendly slap on the back.

"There are two of them." Michael observed, giving no sense as to what he felt other than the observation itself. The fact that there were, two Shawns.

"Who's......Who's Grant?"

'Grant' gave him a reassuring grin. "What, Shawn never told you about me? Ugh, he's always like that!"

Shawn shrugged his shoulders. "It never came up. Bobby, Michael, this is Grant. He's my twin brother. He goes to boarding school 'cause he didn't want to do acting like I do."

Michael was younger than Shawn and when Bobby looked down at him, he didn't return the look of confusion. He just stared right ahead, eyes moving back and forth between 'Grant' and Shawn. His face betrayed no sign of interest. Or disinterest, for that matter.

"They both look the same." Michael said stoically. "That is why you were confused." he told Bobby, deep voice making the statement sound almost like a final proclamation on the matter. It didn't come out like he agreed that the situation had been settled, but instead was a factual description of why Bobby was confused.

He never looked at Bobby when he said this. He just kept starring at the two Shawns.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 03:09, Fri 21 Dec 2018.

"Oh....." Bobby said, recovering from his confusion. "OK." He said, snapping back to the reality that Ralph might have been taken by some kind of adult. Or maybe had wandered away with some kind of adult. Or maybe something like that.

"Ralph!!" Bobby shouted, as if the thought had bubbled up into his mind from below the depths of chaos that the sighting of two Shawns had created.

"We gotta find Ralph." Bobby continued, shaking off the final remnants of confusion and pushing his bike back into motion.

Michael turned to face the Shawn who wasn't on the bicycle, cold eyes bearing down on him as he asked

"Have you seen my sister Tiffany?"

"Ralph's missing? What happened to him?" 'Grant' looked especially worried - had Bradford struck already? He turned to Michael. "Sorry, I don't think so. I don't know your sister, but I haven't really seen anyone tonight. Maybe she's with Ralph?"

Shawn nodded quickly, trying to move them along. "Some adults took Ralph - Bobby, can you get us any closer?"

"We need to find him!" Bobby yelled.

With that, Bobby took off on his bike. "We're looking for a blue car. Short. With two doors." Bobby yelled. "It's got a long antenna."


OOC: Shawn Rolls Intelligence + Composure with the following results:

0 Successes: Shawn doesn't pick up any memory from that description

1 Success: Shawn thinks it might be familiar

2+ Successes: Shawn knows the car in question

---

OOC: Shawn 'Grant' Rolls Intelligence + Composure with the following results:

0 Successes: Shawn 'Grant' doesn't pick up any memory from that description

1 Success: Shawn 'Grant' thinks it might be familiar

2+ Successes: Shawn 'Grant' knows the car in question

OOC: 22:22, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 3d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 7,5,10(+9).  Intelligence + Composure (Shawn).


22:23, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 1 success using 3d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 9,7,4.  Intelligence + Composure ("Grant").

For Shawn it was obvious. As soon as the description of the car was given, Bobby commenced the search. Michael nodding his head all of the way. After that, it was only a question of finding out exactly which way or how long it would take until the road inevitably led to the destination of the car in question:

Shawn's House.

For Shawn-Grant, the description sounded familiar. But it was only when they got closer to Shawn's house and the Dad's car was in view did Shawn-Grant realize the inevitable conclusion that the search was going to yield. The car in question was Dad's car.

"That's it!" Bobby said. "Wait! The car is parked at your house!" Bobby shouted, with alarm and then confusion. "Wait? Is that your Dad's car?" Bobby asked, and then, as if realizing it. "Yes! That is your Dad's car. Your Dad probably thought my brother was lost!"

"That is the car that Shawn's Dad uses." Michael observed factually, as the boys pulled up in front of Shawn's house.

“Grant” looked around, trying to find a trace of Ralph before they went in. He had no idea what his parents would make of a second him, so he tried to make up an excuse. “I left my luggage in the back, you guys go ahead in without me.” Before anyone could object, he took off for the bushes around the house, circling around to the back yard.

Meanwhile, Shawn breathed out a sigh of relief as they saw Dad’s car and the other Shawn took off where he wouldn’t confuse people. “Let’s go in and check on Ralph.” He opened the front door and headed into his house.

Shawn stepped up on the familiar porch. Somehow things seemed different. For one, the inside of the house was dark. The lights weren't on. But in the driveway, Dad's blue car was still making those 'winding down' engine noises. The kind that a car makes when it's been turned off rather recently.

It was strange enough of an environment for Bobby to call it out "Geez this is weird." He commented. "Everything is dark in your house. It's like no one is home, but the car is here."

"Oh man, I hope we find Ralph. I'm really starting to get upset about this." Bobby commented as the two boys stood at the front door, ready and waiting to get inside.

Shawn-Grant Join's thread

Shawn: Around Back!

Shawn had to admit the house was looking a little weird, what with all the lights being off. But at the end of the day, it was Shawn's home and he wasn't going to just sneak in. He tried to open the front door, assuming it was unlocked like it always was.

Shawn opened the door and....


"SURPRISE!!!!" A collective voice shouted out. It was the sound of adults and kids and even old people.

The lights suddenly flickered on. Everyone was there. Big smiles and bright lights.

Mom. Dad. Anthony. Ralph. Everyone. Uncles and Aunts. Old people Shawn didn't recognize. They were all there. Smiling and looking at Shawn. They stood there in a semi-circle. In the center was a big white cake. An old woman Shawn didn't recognize reached out an lit one of the candles with a match, nearly burning her hand.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!!!" The crowd began to sing.

Shawn's mouth gaped open in surprise, but the moment he saw Mom and Dad and all of his extended family, he automatically shifted into performance mode. This was a happy surprise, so he couldn't disappoint them by acting anything less than happily surprised. He smiled delightedly, and looked embarrassed but also flattered. He looked overjoyed that everyone had put in the effort.

Inwardly, though, he was confused as anything. Was it his birthday? There'd been so many different things happening today, but he didn't think that was something he'd forget. Was this some weird power play by Mr. Clayton?

OOC: Shawn Rolls Presence + Composure

OOC: 22:05, Today: Shawn Cramer failed (no successes) using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 3,2,6,1. Presence + Composure.

Striking Looks doesn't apply, right?

OOC: Shawn Rolls Presence + Composure + Striking Looks

OOC:  08:01, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 2d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 1,10(+9).  Striking Looks

Despite the surprise, Shawn managed to shift immediately into performance mode, marching into the room cheerfully, clasping his hands in front of himself and reeking with enthusiasm and delight.

The crowd in front of Shawn circled to greet him. Taking him in as naturally as he had greeted them. Shawn saw Ralph running around handing party poppers over to the different guests and family members. He glanced up at Shawn and flashed him a large grin. Mom's voice was loud. It shot through the air and across the crowd. Dad had a slight smile on his face, which was about as big of a smile as Shawn could remember him ever having.

Bobby looked confused, but then smiled as he grabbed a party popper, whatever surprise he had endure himself faded away at the coming of celebration.

'Pop!'

'Pop!'

'Pop!'

Suddenly, Popper streamers sprang through the air, leaping towards the ceiling and landing back onto the floor.

Michael's eyes actually twitched as the popper's went off, covering the nearby sofa which was disappearing beneath the streamers.

But through the streamers and confetti and jubilant guests, Shawn saw Bradford. He was also smiling. It was a shy but knowing smile.

Shawn made sure to play his excitement to the fullest, giving his mom and dad a hug, making a quick round round trip to thank the relatives. Thinking quickly, he made a quick detour to pull Bradford out of the crowd, affecting excitement and wanting to share the moment with some of his friends. Of course, what he actually wanted was to make sure Bradford was close enough to the centre of attention that Shawn could keep an eye on him, and hopefully he’d have a harder time sneaking away or doing anything suspicious with everyone watching.

Everyone was all around Shawn, but increasingly most of his friends. After being thanked, most of the relatives peeled away to talk with other adults at the party. The group naturally separated into adults and kids.

Bradford looked ahead at all the adults smiling. His mouth moved to the side and didn't open when he spoke to Shawn. The lips moved as if not to alert anyone to what was being murmured in Shawn's direction.

"We have to do this." Bradford murmured to Shawn. "But if we're gonna do it. We should pick a time and a place."

Shawn waited until the adults drifted away and all the other kids were distracted before leaning into Bradford's ear. The party was noisy, he disguised it as getting in close to make sure Bradford could hear. "You're the only one who thinks we have to do this. But I'm listening." He didn't necessarily believe Bradford was actually going to just tell him where and when he planned to strike, but even knowing what Bradford wanted him to think could be useful.

"No I'm not, I just..." Bradford insisted, then he stopped as someone walked by with a Popper, it was an old woman, maybe someone related to Mom. Or maybe one of her friends. She gave Bradford and Shawn a toothy smile and then moved on.

"We have to do this. I've already made the choice. And so did you. You did it when you betrayed us in the cabin. It wasn't my fault. I never wanted to do any of this."

"You started it." Bradford rejoined, the last comment sounding particularly childish or at least coming across that way. Mostly because Bradford was, well, a child.

Shawn didn't sigh or look disappointed, because he'd been expecting that sort of answer. If he could stop Bradford from doing this, it'd take more than just words. He smiled big for the benefit of any family members that were watching, like Bradford had just told him something funny or interesting. "All right, well what do you have in mind?"

Bradford also smiled a fake smile, but with his large glasses it made him look goofy.

"We got to make some rules first." Bradford said. "We do it alone. No friends ganging up. None of that. And nothing that you can use against the other person to hurt them." He said, seemingly insistent, all the while speaking out of the side of his mouth. A ventriloquists trick, is what it looked like. Anyone walking by would think Bradford wasn't even speaking at all. His mouth barely moved.

Shawn kept smiling and chatting as if nothing was the matter. Seeing Bradford talk like that reminded him of some of the vocalisation exercises Mrs. Worthington had him do. "I don't think I can trust you'd do that. You said you'd go after Bobby and Ralph first. You're trying to separate us." There wasn't any judgement in his voice, or anger. He was just explaining why he couldn't just go on Bradford's word. And more importantly, giving Bradford a chance to explain himself and tell Shawn more about his plan.

Such was the skill of Bradford's mouth and speech that he now spoke without any movement, throwing his voice across to Shawn with a ventriloquist's art. Anyone passing by would now think that Bradford wasn't speaking at all.

"I will go after Bobby and Ralph." Bradford replied with savage glee. "But I was talking about when we meet up. When we meet up, its got to be just you and me. Mono-A-mono. Just like it was in the cowboy bar that one time when you shot me. Only this time it won't be a dream. And there can't be any guns or knives or sticks or anything like that."

"If there's none of that, what's the point of meeting up? Are we gonna punch each other?" Shawn knew he wasn't a fighter, and Bradford seemed even less so.

"Well. You can do what you want. But I'm going to try to choke you." Bradford said without moving his lips. The words were threatening, but Bradford's slim appearance and goofy glasses didn't seem threatening. His rage might have been real and his intentions malicious, but he didn't appear like a fighter at all.

Shawn appeared to give that due consideration. He wasn't sure if he could take Bradford's threat seriously. Sure, he was a skinny kid with bad eyesight, but Shawn didn't think Bradford was dumb. Was he too angry to think straight, or did he have some deeper plan in mind - he had learned a lot weird stuff from Mr. Clayton, no doubt. "I'll agree to your rules, if, if you answer one question for me, honestly, right now."

Bradford turned his head towards Shawn. It swiveled. He had a goofy look on his face. A four-eyed nerd's look. "What is it?" He asked, lips not moving.

Shawn took a breath, and then leaned in close to make extra sure no one but Bradford heard him. "What did you and Mr. Clayton do to my wish? I want to know what you changed."

There was a broadening, wicked smile on Bradford's face. It wasn't fake by any means. Not something for the adults.

No.

This smile was one of genuine mirth. Like Shawn had touched on something that Bradford knew well and was the source of malicious delight.

"I just spoke the words to him. The Greater Ventriloquist words:"

" “The dummy is a trifle. It is nothing.” " Bradford smiled.

"You know what's funny Shawn? I can never actually catch the Dummy in the act of moving no matter how long I practice doing it. And how long has it been — months, a year? I don't know where the Dummy will show up anymore, and the black fog is always there now no matter how many times I blink my eyes, and Mr. Clayton is always near. The fog shows up behind me and the Dummy in the mirror, or at times walking towards me..."

"...or powerfully towards you right?"

"It's like its got a huge right arm outstretched — just out of the corner of your eye. Right? I'm beginning to suspect that Mr. Clayton expects too much of me. My stomach is a wreck, and I'm not eating or drinking much either. That’s normal though."

"He got into the wish because he's a dummy. But we're all dummies. That's how he does it. Does that make sense?" Bradford continued, not waiting for Shawn to reply or confirm whether or not what he said did make sense to Shawn.

"Honestly Shawn. I could have probably told you even maybe a month or a few months a go. Maybe weeks? I don't know. I lost my ability to throw my voice or make my dummy move in any real way. But you know what is happening? I can sometimes hear what sounds like the click of a plaster mouth opening and snapping closed when I'm trying to sleep on that filthy pile of clothing in the corner of the bathroom."

"I’ve even tried to force the Dummy to speak a couple of times out of what I imagined was being bored, but I found out that the sound of the dummy’s voice had terribly changed the times I tried it..Oh Shawn..It was horrible and painful to the ear, like the squeal brakes on a car."

"I didn't like it. I think he does it by himself. He's shutting me out slowly I think. So I don't remember as much. So sorry I don't know if what I'm saying makes sense. He doesn't let me get to those memories as easy nowadays." Bradford sighed a resigned sigh.

"It's OK though." He justified. "He helped motivated me to give me the strength I needed to get my revenge. That's what counts. He got me to get up and get started. Get started with a goal. To hurt you and everything you love. How I could I blame him? How could I blame Mr. Clayton? I can't."

"If you're not gonna give me the answer, how can I trust you'll keep your end of the deal?" Shawn was a little frustrated that Bradford couldn't or didn't have the right answers. Still, maybe that was something that he could use to his advantage? "So Mr. Clayton didn't tell you that he...oh, nevermind. There's no point in telling you."

Bradford spoke plainly about the challenges of remembering and what Shawn would need to do to get the information he wanted. But he did so with a weariness in his voice, even if his mouth didn't move.

"Maybe if I remember or I have time to think of it more. Or if you catch me on a different day. But you'd have to do it before I kill you." Bradford said with all the resignation and exhaustion of someone that hadn't slept at all during a kids sleepover. Or maybe hadn't slept at all for a whole weekend.

He had round, purple circles of fatigue near his eyes, Shawn could see now. The large glasses almost hid them completely. Then he spoke, as he had the whole time, without even moving or opening his mouth.


"But you're probably right. Nothing can change what's going to happen. So it doesn't matter anyway. I’m completely separate from everything, including myself and anyone around me. Doing anything just seems plain stupid, which in my opinion it is. I would like to see everyone get sucked into the Circus or the Underworld or whatever it is you call it. And I'd want that to happen as soon as possible . . . just for fun. This might be the best thing that could happen to this town. But, it could also be the worst. Anyway, I am slightly interested in which way it would go."

"It would be all better if none of us were ever born."

“You could just die. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore and then no one else would be hurt.” Shawn’s voice remained quiet, but the words themselves had come out of him without thinking. It wasn’t what he meant to say...but it was definitely something at least a part of him was starting to believe.

"That's right." Bradford agreed with dour nihilism. "I could just die. I'm sort of pointless too in that way. Maybe after we do this and once you're gone, I'll get rid of every single kid I can. Because they're all pointless. Then after I'm done, I'll cap it off by getting rid of myself just to show everyone that the whole thing is pointless. Just to prove to everyone just how pointless it all is. Wouldn't that be something?" Bradford mused, the idea clearly resonating and warming his voice. Shawn could tell that even just speaking the words, Bradford's voice had gotten lighter and more enthusiastic, like he thought there really was something magical and wonderous about this idea.

This time, Shawn manages to keep his voice and frustration under control. "Are you listening to yourself? Mr. Clayton's manipulating you. You know he's putting that in your head."

"Maybe he is or maybe he isn't." Bradford replied. "Like you said, it doesn't really matter. Mr. Clayton and I both believe in nothing. We have no purpose other than maybe a need to destroy."

"Everything in the world makes me hate. But more than anything else, my hate in everything makes me hate."

Shawn looks at Bradford quietly for a moment or two, a flash of actual pity in his eyes. And then his mask goes back up and the smile comes back. He laughs as if Bradford just told a funny joke, and then pats him on the arm. Actually, he does it a few times - it looked more or less natural, but Shawn was feeling for strings. Mr. Clayton had said he'd put cords in Bradford, but he wanted to see how literal that might be.

Shawn patted Bradford on the arm. But there were no signs, at least on the surface of anything that might look or feel like coords, or ridges or unnatural bumps.

Bradford didn't seem to mind, though is large, magnified eyes did shift towards Shawn's hands.

"Come to my house at night time in one week. The night before school." Bradford said without moving his mouth. "Be there and I won't kill everyone."

Shawn met Bradford's gaze head on. "And you'll leave Bobby and Ralph alone before then?" He kept his smile and false cheer on his face, seemingly not a care in the world. But he watched Bradford carefully for any sign of his true intentions.

Bradford smiled a wry smile.

"Of course not. I just said I wouldn't kill everybody. Just assume that means I'll leave one alive. If you come to my house next week, I'll leave one alive. But you don't get to choose."

"If you don't come. Well, I guess that means you'll just have to come and find me."

Shawn's expression locked even more tightly into a cheerful smile even as he heard that, going overdrive to prevent a hint of worry or concern going out. "What will it take for you to leave both of them alone this week?"

This time Bradford laughed out loud. A joyous, malicious laugh.

"Nothing!" He said, somehow still managing not to move his mouth. "Nothing!"

He gave Shawn a strange look, like what Shawn said or was doing was insane. It was a nervous look. The kind of look someone gives a homeless person when they come up and start speaking to you on the street.

"There's nothing that can be done to stop that. Nothing at all." Bradford reiterated with a smirk but no moving mouth.


"It's like this: One of them will be safe this week. But only if you come to my place one week from now. If you do that, then I'll only, you know, try to go after one of them. And then I'll leave the other one alone. And like I said, you have to come alone. Oh, and with no weapons or stuff." Bradford repeated, almost sounding like he was taking so much joy in the villain role like he forgot some key details. That was something villains never did in the movies when they negotiated with the good guys after revealing their plans.

"All right." Shawn didn't really have much of a choice - and it's not like he had access to a bunch of weapons right now anyway. Still, what he could do is fish for as much information as he could. Bradford seemed to be enjoying playing the part of a villain, and Shawn had watched enough TV and been in enough movies to know that villains liked to explain their evil plans. "What are you going to try and do to them? It's not like Ralph or Bobby are gonna let you stab them or something."

Bradford took in a deep breath. Then he let out another sigh of resignation.

"I tried to lure you all into the Underworld to make it easier. Just to get it over with. So everyone would die. But...I was talking to Mr. Clayton about it the other day and he agrees. We both agree really." Bradford clarified with and open admission:

"That I'm a coward for trying to do it that way." Bradford said, somewhat frankly.

"It's like...." He paused as if what he was about to say caused him to hesitate and Shawn picked up that what was coming might be something Bradford didn't want to say or hear.

"It's like, I was too afraid to actually do what it is I believe. It's one thing to just put you and everyone into a situation where you are going to die. That's what I was doing before. And after talking to Mr. Clayton about it, I really think that I was doing that because I didn't want to believe that I was really....really....doing it?" Bradford finished, the last sentence ending on a question that seemed to say 'Does that make sense?'

"But now I know that I do believe it. Believe what I'm saying. You know? I used to think that you could just say something and believe it. Like if you tell your Mom you had a good day at school. If you just say it, maybe you did have a good day. But if you act it out...." Bradford paused. "If you act out a good day: playing with friends, eating candy and reading comics...that means  you really are having a good day."

"So with Ralph and Bobby and you.... I mean, for everyone really. There's no reason just to limit it to you and them. I mean, sure I have to get my revenge. But in some way, it really isn't about that. I mean it is. And it isn't. Do you understand?"

"Boy. I'm not so good at explaining this." Bradford mused, eyes blinking behind those wide-eyed glasses. "Before I say any more, do you get what I'm saying?" He asked, prodding Shawn for some feedback.

"I do get it. You want to do it yourself, because it's realer and you want to know you can do it." Well, Shawn didn't really get Bradford's mindset - wanting to kill everyone indiscriminately was way too far for him - but he understood what he wanted. And the 'why' was clear, with Mr. Clayton pulling the strings metaphorically and actually. It was just like character exercises with Mrs. Worthington; you found the important phrases and tried to mirror them back. "But that's just why. That's not how."

"Right!" Bradford said relieved to see that Shawn was understanding it all. Understanding the deep-seated feelings that Bradford had.

"I'm glad you can understand this." Then Bradford frowned. "Actually, I take that back. It really doesn't matter what I think really. I don't count. I really can't possibly tell you the real feelings I have. How much I hate everything that exists."

"So I think what I'll probably do is draw it out. Delay it a bit. Make sure there's a lot of suffering. So I want to make as much suffering as possible. So I really want Bobby to suffer first. So I'll start with him."

Shawn nodded, as if that was a completely logical thing to hear Bradford saying. Like he was saying because he liked chocolate, he'd have a sundae for desert. Inwardly, Bradford getting more specific worried him, though it didn't change Shawn's job at all. "But how would you do that? And if you don't matter and nobody matters, why start with Bobby?"

Bradford actually smiled at this question, one side of his face creeping up into a half-grin that almost reached the frame of his glasses.

"Because I think you care about Ralph more." He concluded. "Yes. You do."
that second part came across as more accusatory, before Shawn could say anything.

"So I'm going to get Bobby. Then, if you come to my house just as we agreed, I'll leave Ralph out of it. I'm going to do it that way because I want to give you something to follow the plan I've made. And also, if you don't follow the plan, then I can save Ralph for the last bit. Kind of like saving the best for last. It's kind of like eating dessert." Bradford concluded, but then immediately rejected that last part.

"I mean, I'm not going to eat Ralph. Not at all." He clarified. "I'm just going to, you know, kill him if you don't come to my house like we said."

"How to do it to Bobby?" Bradford asked, trying to think about Shawn's last question. "I'll probably just, you know, hurt him real bad. Maybe with a stick or something to the head."

Shawn...honestly wasn't sure if that was true. He'd worked really hard to save Ralph before, but Bobby...he'd sold out to the Circus save Bobby. But it didn't really matter - he liked both of them and didn't want either of them to suffer! "Do you really think that'll work? Bobby's bigger than you and faster than you."

Bradford thought about that for a second. Then shrugged. "I mean, I think I might have one thing going for me that Bobby doesn't have. I think I don't care. That's maybe the only thing. I know I have to do this. This whole this is the last thing that I'm going to do."

"Since you took everything from me, it's going to be the last thing that I do. So if Bobby wins or even if you win, I'll just get back to it....just get back to it until...until...until I find something, anything to get everyone." Bradford seethed.

"And then, just to prove how pointless it all is. After I'm done. I'll make sure I'm done. Ka-put." Bradford stated, looking at Shawn with eyes filled with anger and hate.

This time, Shawn was watching Bradford's response carefully, trying to pick out any sign that he was bluffing. Was Bradford really going to just go after Bobby and him and Ralph as himself, trusting in his Mr. Clayton-stoked anger? Or did he have some secret, some advantage that he was keeping from Shawn?

OOC: Bradford Rolls Manipulation + Subterfuge

20:29, Today: Bradford Stork rolled 2 successes using 3d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((4,8,9)).

Vs. Shawn's Roll of Perception + Empathy

OOC: 07:18, Today: Shawn Cramer failed (no successes) using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 7,2,3,4,4.  Wits + Composure + Empathy .

Not sure if that was the correct die pool, but it didn't matter regardless!

There was nothing to gained from Shawn's close attention to Bradford's words and gestures. By all accounts, he was speaking clearly and frankly.

"I'm telling you exactly how I think and exactly what I think." Bradford said without moving his mouth.


Then, from across the room, Shawn heard his name being called.

'Shawn! Shawn!' the voice rang out. It was a familiar voice, but hard to place with all of the noise of the party.

"Shawn! Shawn!" Mom called out. "Oh Shawn, you have to say hi to Uncle Mark. He traveled all the way from Maryland to see you on your Birthday!" Mom said, more eager to please Uncle Mark than Shawn's feelings about greeting the man.

Shawn felt frustrated by his inability to get a better read on Bradford, but Mom calling him made him remember the context. He couldn't just take forever to talk with Bradford - he had other stuff he had to do to keep his family happy. So he smiled, gave Bradford a pat on the shoulder like they were good friends, and then gamely trotted over to Uncle Mark to thank him. When he was done, he'd have to find Bobby and try to figure out how to keep Bradford away from him.

Bradford turned away after the pat, perhaps realizing that the conversation was over. But no sooner had he turned away, did Mom cut in front of him, presenting a wheel-chair bound Uncle and smiling at this unknown person with a fake smile that Shawn was accustomed to.

"This is Uncle Mark." Mom said in a syrupy tone as if Shawn knew the man, or knew of him. "And he came all the way from Maryland just to say Happy Birthday to you."

"Hi-ya kid." Uncle Mark said, with a smoke's voice. His left arm came up from one of the arm-rests of the wheelchair to give a sort of, half wave.

Tired and stressed though he was, Shawn had been putting on a happy face for his relatives for years now. When he saw the man in the wheelchair, he broke out into a grin like he was overjoyed to see him. "Uncle Mark! Thanks for coming!" Enthusiastic, but polite. That's what grownups liked.

"Happy Birffday kid." Uncle Mark said with blue-collar gristle. This made Mom squint, her face containing a barely-noticeable spasm of disapproval which she managed to transform into a weary, but believable smile.

"Yes,...well." Mom said, filling the space with a few words as Michael Jackson's Beat it played in the background on stereo for the party.

"Umm, Shawn. Make sure you say thank you to your friends who came to your party." Mom pointed out, showing to Uncle Mark and anyone else who could be listening, just how good of a Mom she was to instruct Shawn on the proper ways of behaving at a party. "Look, I think I see your friend 'Jared' over there." And she pointed across the room to Anthony who was busy talking to his brother Michael.

"Thanks Uncle Mark! I've gotta go thank my friends now too." Shawn's fake enthusiasm was bolstered by his genuine (albeit hidden) relief that this was all he had to do with Uncle Mark. He headed over towards Anthony and Michael, but on the way he kept his eyes open for Bobby and Bradford. Bobby because he needed to talk to him at some point, and Bradford because losing track of him seemed like a bad idea.

"Hey, Hey! Shawny-boy!" Anthony said with rapturous enthusiasm. And then, he switched his tone to be immediately dour as if a bad thought floated to his head.

"Have you seen my sister?" 

Shawn returned his enthusiasm with a smile. "Anthony! It's great to see you! His own expression shifted, though it looked more confused than dour. "I haven't seen her - I thought she was here, though?"

"Nah." Anthony said, mood turning even more dour than Shawn's. "It's just...she hasn't been around all day. Or yesterday." Anthony choked, perhaps cutting short something he was about to say, or perhaps stopping himself from overly displaying emotion and worry to a younger kid like Shawn. "My folks are starting to get nervous. And so am I." He confessed, voice no longer quavering but steady.

"But you..." Anthony gestured to Shawn with a nod and tilt of his Coca-Cola bottle,  "Look good." he finished, rather lamely.

Shawn felt a little flattered by Anthony's off-handed compliment, so his cheerful smile had a core of genuine happiness in there. "Thanks, you too. I'll keep my eyes open for her." He glanced around - his list of people to keep an eye out for had expanded to three now; Bobby, Bradford, and now Tiffany.

"Oh my goshhh!" Junior said as he butted into the conversation, nearly falling into Shawn and moving in between Anthony and Shawn. "I was so very really super happy that you gave me an invite. You're a movie kid! The movie kid on the block! I can't wait to see your next movie. Are you in a G.I. Joe movie? Can I play G.I. Joes with you and Bobby? Will you and Ralph come over my house and play with my G.I. Joes?"

Shawn stepped aside to let Junior get between them without falling over. He hadn't seen Junior in a while, actually - he was glad the boy had survived Griffix's challenges. "I'm glad you got invited too! We should totally play GI Joes with Bobby - have you seen him around?"

"Oh Really!?" Junior jumped like a fish snipping at bait just above the water out of reach and with the enthusiasm of someone who couldn't believe what they had just heard. Good fortune that had smiled upon the young boy lit up his face with exuberant sunshine. "Really? Oh really!? We can play G.I. Joes together?"

"Do you mean it? Do you really mean it!?" Junior asked, too overwhelmed with the idea to answer Shawn's question about Bobby.

Shawn just gave him a grin and nodded. "Totally! Even if I can't do it tonight 'cause I've got birthday stuff to do, you should go find Bobby so we can plan it for tomorrow."

Junior smiled. Then he tagged alongside Shawn and said "Great! So what are we gonna do tonight? Play G.I. Joes tonight too! Right?" He said, brushing up alongside Shawn's left arm like a puppy dog, yapping away that needed or expected attention.

Shawn started to look around the party for Bobby, also keeping his eyes open for Ralph or Bradford just in case. "If we have time, totally. But we gotta find Bobby first, see what he thinks."

Shawn turned as then saw....

Bobby. He was right in Shawn's sight holding glass of what looked like Cool-Aid.

"I swear I didn't know!" Bobby said to Shawn as if it was a confession. "Honestly Shawn. I didn't know about this Birthday party. I would never make up something like that about Ralph being lost or kidnapped or something just to get you here."

Ralph was off on the other side of the room, popping out the last streaming popper.

Shawn gave Bobby a genuinely affectionate smile and patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Bobby! You saw Ralph getting into a strange car, what else are you gonna think? So, are you having fun?" Still, as much as he wanted to just hang out with Bobby and Ralph and enjoy his party, he knew he needed to figure out exactly how Mr. Clayton had affected Bobby and Ralph. "Besides, Ralph can be kinda silly sometimes." He watched for Bobby's reaction carefully - he'd told Bobby to think Ralph was cool this morning, but he wasn't sure if Mr. Clayton's changes had overwritten that.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:47, Mon 21 Jan 2019.

Bobby blinked and titled his head slightly. Then the words came out slowly.

"Yeah." Bobby laughed. "Whew. I thought you were gonna think I was in on it." He said, sounding relieved. Then he looked at Ralph who was no longer prancing around with poppers, but picking up a paper plate and helping himself to too many cookies for a young kid.

"Silly." Bobby repeated, noting Ralph's appearance and the cookies. And he did look silly just then. It wasn't just Shawn saying it. What with his pouched belly and pants that were just a little too tight. A cookie fell off the side of the paper plate that Ralph was using and now he had maybe six or seven on there. Milk sloshed around in a glass that was too big for him, to full.

"Ralph does his best, though..." Shawn didn't want to make fun of Ralph too hard, after all. It might come back to Ralph and he didn't want to hurt the younger boy's feelings. Still, Shawn was a little crestfallen that his (somewhat forced) attempt to patch things up between the two of them had been overwritten out by Mr. Clayton. Now he just had to test if the rest of his wish still worked - even if Mr. Clayton had added a fake house and mom to Bobby and Ralph on top of the wish, maybe the rest of the wish still worked. It was technically a birthday wish, after all, and he felt a childish certainty that those should stick around.

He giggled a little, as if he'd just recalled something funny. "Remember that time we were at the petting zoo and Bradford pushed Ralph into the llama pen." It sounded like a question, and could definitely be mistaken for a question if he was called on it, but it was an order, and Shawn pictured the wishing triangle with all his might as he did.

"What!?" Bobby said, surprised. "He pushed him?" Bobby sounded, as if the story was wounding him. Then, after a moment, Bobby scratched his chin and replied. "He did" as if he was trying to convince himself or recall with greater certainty.

"Listen, Shawn." Bobby started. "I'm worried about Ralph. And I'm worried about Bradford. I know, I know, you think that it shouldn't matter since we all grew up on the same block together and since we're all neighborhood friends. But something doesn't seem right lately. And now that you mention the 'pushing' thing..." Bobby stopped, trying to form the words and the idea.

"Ah, its probably nothing. But, I guess I'm just worried about things working out between Ralph and other kids in the neighborhood like Bradford. He's my little brother, and...I'm not sure I want him to grow up being picked on in the neighborhood. School is another thing. I can't keep my eye on him all the time. But here. Especially during the summer, its kind of like, I dunno, Ralph should feel like the neighborhood is a safe, kind of place. Kind of like home should feel safe when you walk through the door. You know?"

"Yeah, Bradford's not very nice." Shawn wanted to encourage the direction that Bobby was thinking, especially with Bradford. "I think that maybe we should all keep away from Bradford for a little even. Even if it's just a week or two. Maybe being lonely for a little bit will teach Bradford that he shouldn't mess with people anymore."

"Good idea. Maybe I'll tell Ralph the same thing. When I go home tonight, I'll think about it. I'll think a lot about it Shawn. I will." Bobby said, sincerely.

Shawn grinned and gave Bobby a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Thanks, Bobby, I just think it’s a good idea.” Though he felt a pang of sadness as he remembered how Bobby and Ralph lived here with him even just this morning.

"Happy Birthday Shawn. You're my best friend." Bobby remarked, not looking Shawn in the eye. It wasn't something that kids, or rather boys, really did. They did, but they didn't. Maybe it was something about getting older. All the girls usually could be seen saying things much more intimate to each other. But Bobby had never said something like that to Shawn, in contrast to Ralph, who said all kinds of things. But Ralph was younger.

"Oh look!" Bobby said, pointing behind Shawn as the lights dulled. "They're bringing out your birthday cake!"

Candles flickered in the room as the cake, which was white and brilliant in all of its frosting and glory, came forth, supported by Mom's carefully balanced hands. It seemed to glide towards the table, the only light in the room.

Upon seeing it, everyone started to sing "Happy..Birthday...to You..."

Shawn didn't meet Bobby's gaze either when he replied. "You're my best friend too..." He wasn't sure what else to say, him also being a boy and equally bad at expressing sincere feelings. The distraction of the cake was almost welcome as he was jolted into a scenario he already knew how to react to; he knew he had to look happy, a little surprised, and above all grateful. He headed for the table, smiling so hard it felt like his cheeks were going to crack.

The song finished and then there was the weight of expectation falling on Shawn's shoulders, Mom's smile beaming.

"Well, are you going to make a wish?"

OOC: Shawn adds one year to his Character's age

"Blow them all out in one blow, or the wish won't come true!" Ralph advised.

"Blow, Blow, Blow the cake down!" Penelope, who Shawn hadn't even seen was there until now, shouted out in inappropriate, raucousness.

Shawn closed his eyes for a moment...and wished for the power to keep himself, Bobby, Ralph, and Eddy safe. And then he opened his eyes and blew.

Shawn rolls Strength + Resolve with the following results:

0 Successes: no candles go out

1-3 Successes: most candles go out

4+: all the candles are blown out

OOC: 21:55, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 5,2,8,3,8. Strength + Resolve.

Shawn blew that candles and they flickered.  It looked for a moment like they were all going to go out. But then two came alive, flickering on the edge of the cake.


"You can.....can.....can....can...do...do...do...do..do...do...do...it Shawn!!" Ralph stammered in encouragement.

Shawn took another deep breath and blew again - this time he practically hovered over the two recalcitrant candles.

And the candles blew out completely.

"That's my star!" Mom wailed, beaming with excitement

"Happy Birthday!" Bobby exclaimed with joy

"Wow. You can even act like you can blow out candles real hard." Junior amazed, eyes wide open with admiration, even if his comment wasn't quite clear or didn't make sense.

Shawn jokingly wiped his brow, like the candles had been a huge effort, but he was still all smiles. "Thanks everyone! You're the best!" Then, ever the gracious host, he started looking around for plates to serve the cake and the other miscellaneous tasks involved in being a good, selfless host.

It was easy to do. The plates were arranged next to Shawn and so was a large knife used to cut the first piece. Mom handed Shawn the knife and Bobby told Shawn that he should also get a wish for cutting the first piece. Ralph questioned this idea, but then Mom leaned in and--all smiles--said that that was the way it always was in her childhood.

Occasionally, Mom revealed these bits of her own childhood lore. But then, just like always, the wisdom and tradition disappeared from the moment as she but back on the mask of the proud woman whose son was going to be a star. Because there were other people around, Mom's mask this time was a bright smile and a proclamation to the nearby relatives that Shawn had gotten a new movie role and therefore the next party probably would be a lot bigger and in a rich dining hall. This statement was made to them in the most showy way possible, with the implication that she was so sorry for not having had Shawn's party in the dining hall this year.

OOC: Shawn May Choose to Roll Intelligence + Socialize to gain insight on the second implication

OOC: Shawn May Choose to Roll Wits + Occult to make a second wish while cutting the cake.

As he cut the cake, Shawn wished for good luck, that maybe when things went wrong for him (as they often did), it would turn out to be not as bad as it looked. He pondered what Mom was saying as he handed off the knife to the more trusted adult who'd be cutting the rest of the cake.

OOC: 08:07, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 1 success using 2d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 8,5.  Intelligence + Socialize.

08:04, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 3 successes using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s.  Wits + Occult + WP.

"Good job honey!" Mom rejoined, not even looking at Shawn and more or less paying most of her attention to the guests. And as Shawn read the situation, the implication was that this party was just a 'normal' party for Mom. And a 'normal' party for Shawn.

Too normal.

Without it being said, Shawn understood that Mom's explanation was more of an apology to the guests and that with Shawn's new role in the movie, bigger and better parties that weren't beneath the family were on the horizon. Along with that, came the weight of expectation.

After Shawn handed the knife off, he emerged from the party of adults with cake and plastic fork in hand, the music of 99 Red Balloons playing loudly in the background.

"Shawn, can I talk to you for a second?" Bobby asked, a note of concern in his voice. He wasn't carrying cake and from the tone of his voice, that seemed to be the last think he was thinking about.

Shawn was balancing his cake carefully, a little concerned about his parents' rising expectations, but Bobby's question jarred him out of his reverie. "Sure, what's up?" He really hoped it was just that Bobby wanted some cake.

The two boys distanced themselves from the adults, and the room was once again separated by age. The kids on one side of the room and the adults on the other. Most of the neighborhood was there and the Junior and Ralph were running around in what Dad would have considered inappropriate 'rough play.' But Dad wasn't here, and the other adults didn't seem to mind.

"Have you heard about the kids in the neighborhood that are disappearing? I mean. Have you?" Bobby asked, assuming that Shawn had, but clearly wanting to here Shawn state it himself, even if it was obvious. The tone suggested that Bobby needed to hear Shawn confirm it, even though it was clear. Everyone had heard about it.

Shawn leaned in a little, acknowledging their conversation was private and not for adult ears. "Yeah, I have. Something weird's going on here." He wasn't sure how much Bobby remembered, but that much at least was safe to agree on.

Bobby leaned in towards Shawn himself, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone "A Policeman came to my house."

He looked at Shawn to see if there was any reaction.

Shawn leaned in even closer so that he and Bobby could talk even more quietly. "What'd he say?" Then he realised something. He'd been with Bobby basically all day. If Bobby remembered meeting a police officer at his house, then it was something Mr. Clayton and Bradford made him remember...

Bobby leaned in towards Shawn himself, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone "He asked Mom if she knew 'Erica Hoff' and when the last time she saw her. Then he asked Mom my if she had every heard of a girl named Jody."

Shawn recognised the names...and the faces, but he didn't let that on. "Weird...don't they go to our school or something? Did he say what happened to them?"

"No. That's just it." Bobby remarked, temporarily forgetting to whisper, and then remembering. "He said they are missing. Like, gone maybe."

Missing didn't mean dead...at least, that's what Shawn told himself. There was no point thinking about their disappearance, or about his role in it if they were still alive. "Maybe the police will find them."

"You mean like they found Delilah. Or worse, even Eddy." Bobby remarked with more than a bit of ironic doubt. "Seriously Shawn. I think something is going on. Its like probably one of the 'snatchers' is in the neighborhood."

Snatchers could mean any kind of thing in kind parlance. But the meaning was somewhat clear: adults who kidnap kids, stalking aliens from outer space, spirit demons who come out of closets and take souls or cat burgaler-ninjas that move into kid rooms at night with stealth.

"I think the kids have been taken. And I think the police think so too."

Shawn felt a pang of guilt when Eddy came up - that was really his fault, not some snatcher. But that was hardly something he could correct Bobby on. "What do you think the snatchers want?"

"I dunno." Bobby said, concerned. "I don't like the feeling I get lately Shawn. Not at all. I don't like that there seems to be something or something watching us. Or maybe just watching me."

"Honestly, I'm a little scared. But then I try to focus on the Joes. That's probably a good idea right? To think about what maybe Duke would do or how he would act."

"Am I crazy? Do you think something is going on with all of these kids missing? Are we next?"

Shawn looked around, half-expecting to see Bradford lurking in the corner, ready to jump them. He knew they were in legitimate danger, but he couldn't explain the whole thing to Bobby without him thinking Shawn was crazy. "I feel it too...I think you, me, and Ralph need to stick together until all this stuff stops happening."

"We should come up with a code, like a secret code. We could form a club. Like Mystery Inc. like Scooby-Doo has. Only maybe we won't have a van because none of us can drive."

"Maybe tomorrow, like in the morning we should all meet up. But early. Before my Mom gets up. This way we can make the codes and you, me and Ralph will know what the codes mean."

"I'll bring Ralph. Where do you want to meet?"

Shawn was a little vague on what was going on with Bobby and Ralph's new 'mom', but anything that involved keeping her out of the loop sounded good to him. "The park? Or maybe here?"

"Here. Early though. I've made a few notes about things that have been going on. I think I have a list of kids that are missing. I've been keeping track"

Bobby shuffled through his pockets and Shawn heard the crinkling of paper. Then he looked around to see if anyone was watching them. As if thinking better of it, Bobby took his hand out of his pocket without the paper.

"Yeah, its in my pocket. But anyone in here could be doing it though. So I don't want them to see, you know, that we're keeping track. I'll bring Ralph tomorrow."

"Can you get up before the sun comes out?" Bobby asked. "Just before it comes out? Soldiers always do surprise attacks at dawn." He added.

Shawn nodded seriously. "I will...and even if I'm not, you'll be there to wake me up, right?"

"Yeah, I will. Because you're my best friend." Bobby said to Shawn, looking him squarely in the eyes as he said it.He extended his hand to Shawn, with his pinky finger hooked, expecting Shawn to do the same.

Shawn smiles, unexpectedly touched by that. He extends his hand and hooks his pinky around Bobby's.

"There." Bobby said. But before he let Shawn's finger go he said. "No Penny Tax." And it was clear he wanted Shawn to say the same. Doing so would lock the deal. The deal that Shawn would do what Bobby and he agreed upon. That Bobby would bring Ralph, and, implicitly, the list. And that they could do so in the morning.

Shawn solemnly repeated back. "No penny tax." If nothing else, having Bobby and Ralph over would let Shawn keep an eye on them and make it harder for Bradford to try anything.

Bobby nodded and then walked back over to get some more cake, disappearing into the crowd. Then Shawn felt someone tap him on the shoulder as Michael Jackson's Beat It started to blare from the stereo system.

Shawn turned around to see who it could be.

Junior stood looking up at him with a doe-eyed look.

"Can you sign my shirt?" He asked, holding a purple magic marker out to Shawn. There was a bit of snot running down into Junior's upper lip. He held his chest out, clearly hoping Shawn would stain the white, T-shirt with his signature.

After an awkward second, Shawn gave Junior a happy smile. "Sure thing! I hope you like the party!" He didn't really know cursive all that well, but he doodled a "Shawn C." along the bottom of the shirt in purple.

"OH MY GOSH!" Junior replied. "You really like me! You really like me!" Junior rejoiced.

"We're really good friends!" He said. "Thank you!"

Shawn patted Junior on the shoulder. “Of course we’re friends, what else would we be?”

"BEST FRIENDS!" Junior pressed, blurting out the phrase with finality but his face still questioning. He wanted Shawn to agree and the statement the way it was phrased begged some kind of affirmation or rejection. "You really are my best friend. And I'm yours!" Junior said, hoping and yet somehow pressing Shawn to reply that Junior and he were best friends.

Shawn felt oddly trapped - he didn't want to let Junior down, but they'd only spoken a few times and he really was a lot closer to other people. He tried to split the difference by giving Junior a happy smile. "Yeah, you and Bobby and Ralph are my best friends!"

"But I'm the best of the best friends right?" Junior pressed. He wanted an answer, and Shawn could tell that in the youth's eyes, his hope, his ideals, his admiration and all of his self esteem hinged on Shawn's following answer. Junior wanted to hear that he was Shawn's best of best friend.

Shawn tried to play it delicately, so he looked confused for a moment, then suddenly laughed. "Oh, wait, you're making a joke! We both know best of best friends wouldn't make their friend rank their friendship!"

"No I'm not!" Junior laughed his own reply, only because Shawn seemed to be laughing. His tone was playful as if Shawn himself had been joking by replying that way. He stared back at Shawn as if still waiting for an answer.

A long awkwardness settled like fog and it suddenly seemed like Shawn and Junior were the only two people in the room.

Shawn couldn't help but let the awkwardness linger, but he tried to turn things around. "You wanna get more cake?"

Junior looked confused. Then a big, broad smile crossed his face. "You mean like kind of a sealer." He yipped. "A sealer is when you seal the deal. That's what I heard a real big kid say once. He said that you can seal the deal, which means if you hook pinkies or come up with a special handshake."

"OK. We can do like a cake eating deal. I mean, to show that we're the best of friends. Oh my gosh! I can't wait to tell my Mom that my best friend is a movie star!" Junior jumped a little at the end of the phrase, is feet all happy and restless from imagining the idea.

Shawn hadn’t meant to say any of that, but Junior was a little kid and he didn’t want him to make a scene by contradicting him. He patted Junior on the shoulder. “Either way, let’s get some cake, okay?” He started to head towards the cake, assuming Junior would follow.

Shawn walked towards the cake, Junior following behind him while the song She Blinded Me With Science played loudly among the party-goers.

"Something strange is happening." Feddler butted in. "Do you feel it? I am worried. I feel something."

OOC: Shawn may roll reflexive "Occult" with the following results

0 Successes: Nope. Shawn doesn't 'feel' it.

1+ Successes: Shawn 'feels' something

Shawn feels...something....

OOC: 05:43, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 1 success using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 5,6,2,8,2.  Occult + WP

Junior was saying something, but Feddler's voice was loud in Shawn's head. The boy was talking and talking about what Shawn and he were going to do this year when school started. There were a few questions peppered in, but again, Feddler's voice was too loud for Shawn to actually hear what Junior was saying.

"He's killing us!" Feddler yelled in Shawn's mind. "He's killing the other Shawn. And the other Feddler! Bradford is doing this."

And without so much saying and more feeling, Shawn 'felt' what Feddler was talking about. He knew that Bradford was in fact, killing the other Shawn. He didn't know where. And he didn't know how. But he knew that it involved Bradford and a knife. And somehow Mr. Clayton in a suitcase with the Liar's Goblet nearby.

"So are we best friends?" Junior asked again, looking up at Shawn with anticipation and expecting Shawn to respond not only to the question, but whatever else he had been talking about during the last several minutes.

Shawn fought down his rising panic and tried to think this through as calmly as he could. The other him was close by, he could feel it, maybe even in the house? If they were inside, then there weren't many places they could be - the party sprawled across the whole ground floor, which meant they were either upstairs or in the basement...and you couldn't get upstairs without passing through the party, which would probably be noticed.

He turned to Junior. "Wait here a sec, I'll be back soon." He took off towards the basement door, not entirely sure of what he'd do even if he did arrive in time.

Shawn ran towards the basement door. It was slightly ajar, as if something or someone had been recently down there. Apparently, Junior hadn't listened to Shawn, as the boy lolly-gagged behind him.

"Where are you going?" Junior asked with naive innocence. "Oh, I know! I know!" He answered his own question like a kid in the class that wanted to be called on.

"You want to play hide and seek in the basement?" Junior asked Shawn as Shawn saw the basement door slightly open. The lights were off in the basement.

Shawn threw open the door and turned on the basement lights, not even noticing that Junior was following.

The basement light flicked on and illuminated the room below. The first thing that caught Shawn's attention was that the stairs and the base of the run were speckled with red dots, like someone had spilled cherry Kool-Aid here and there.

At the bottom of the basement, there was a large red stain much thicker. It streaked across the floor and towards the backdoor, which was closed.

"What's this?" Junior asked, pointing to what was clearly the small blood stain. "It's like someone spilled a messy, mess. It's like Strawberry Quick." The young boy said.

He turned to Shawn who was still at the top of the stairs. "Somebody from the party spilled Strawberry Quick everywhere. Nestle Strawberry Quick." He clarified.

Shawn, knowing what had happened, but not wanting to acknowledge what had happened, went down the stairs. He'd seen the vision - of Mr. Clayton and the Liar's Goblet and the knife...it had been only seconds ago, it couldn't have been cleaned up so fast...maybe that meant he - the other him - was still alive, or that Bradford had left something behind.

"This is what happened." Feddler said in Shawn's mind, and he rummaged through the memories and explained how Bradford had killed the other Shawn.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Resolve + Composure with the following results:

0 Successes: Failure! The vivid imagery in Shawn's mind scares him. Shawn has a screaming, nervous breakdown and gains a derangement. Junior notices.

1 Success: Shawn screams as loud as he can after seeing dark visions of his own death. No derangement. Junior notices.

2 Successes: Shawn weeps, tears running down his face. No derangement. Junior notices.

3 Successes: Shawn swallows and gets choked up. No derangement. Junior notices.

4+ Successes: Shawn keeps his emotions under control. No derangement. Junior does not notice

OOC: 07:52, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 4 successes using 8d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 8,6,7,8,8,8,1,7. Resolve + Composure + WP.

"This is what happened...." Junior finished his child-like presentation of how he saw events, as Shawn kept his inner-demon under control.

Shawn somehow kept his composure as he smiled sweetly at Junior. "Yeah, they must've spilled a lot of Strawberry Quick. You go ahead and get some cake, I've got to make sure it didn't spread anywhere important, okay?"

Shawn moved to the door outside carefully. He'd picked a lot from the vision, including the other him's intentions...he'd stolen Mr. Clayton, but that was only part of his plan. He'd realised that if there were two of them, and they both had the Liar's Goblet, then they might have two of other things he'd had on him. Like twice as many shards of the Fortuneteller's Crystal, maybe even enough for him to do something with it...

Bradford was gone, and so was...the other Shawn's body, and so was Mr. Clayton. Bradford had clearly dragged the body away, but he was way too small to haul that and Mr. Clayton home, right? He'd probably stashed...the body somewhere nearby, right? He gingerly opened the door, expecting to be attacked at any moment.

The range of possibilities swam across Shawn's mind as the horrible images of his own death played out inside of him. Feddler spared no details in this still-image display of Bradford's murderous intent.

Nevertheless, Shawn managed to keep his emotions under control. He opened the door, and the hinges creaked with protest as it swung open.

It was night time.

A cool breeze stirred Shawn's hair as he stood in the threshold of the doorway. Junior's chatter had ceased and Shawn now saw that he was alone in the basement, the young fan having gone upstairs, perhaps following Shawn's advice.

There was a loneliness about the scene. Shawn standing at the basement doorway looking outside into the night. The cool breeze coming through. The rush of cars in the far distance only somewhat audible. The night birds occasionally cawing in ominous tones.

Instead of being attacked, Shawn was met with nothing but running-shoe foot prints leading out of the basement doorway and into the dark forest. Like some fairy tale, the Bradford-monster had gone back into the depths. It was probably the case that Bradford wasn't far away. And given that the briefcase was no longer in the basement, that he had Mr. Clayton with him.

Before Shawn went further, he looked for signs that the...other Shawn's corpse had gone with Bradford - was there a trail of dragged dirt left behind? Anywhere that looked like Bradford had set down the case?

Shawn peered through the door and then looked down at his feet, trying to see what might have occurred. He started to examine things to see if the various disturbances added up to anything and might give him a clue about what happened to the other Shawn and where the dead body might be.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Examine a Crime Scene =  Wits + Investigation. 5 Successes are needed.

Shawn takes a moment to look around...and very quickly realizes he had no idea what he was looking for. It definitely seemed a lot easier in the movies! He knew time was of the essence, so rather than keep looking, instead he headed into the woods on Bradford's trail, trying to avoid making too much noise. As he did, he thought at Feddler. Do you know anything about tracking? Or how to find the other...you know? He was still having a hard time thinking about the other Shawn's body.

OOC: Shawn has a chance die on Wits + Investigation, so he's going to skip rolling and just risk moving forward for now.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:45, Thu 28 Feb 2019.

"Speak out loud when you talk to me." Feddler asked. "I can here it more clearly."

"Wait, don't do that. Whisper. Whisper so your words are out loud but no one can hear us."

Aside from his own noisy breath there was nothing to be heard and the woods were simply too dark to see much at all. Black trunks against an almost black backdrop didn't make for much too see and Shawn's imagination began to supply horrors to fill the void. There were only small sounds of rustling bushes and the howl of the wind.

Wait...rustling bushes..

The sound of something moving the forest could be heard. Shawn was close to something or someone that also appeared to be moving slowly, as if he or it, didn't want to be heard. Shawn could feel Feddler's desire to run after the thing that moved, like Shawn was in a game of "blind man's bluff."

In this, at least, Shawn and Feddler agreed. He slowed down a little to make sure he wasn't making too much noise; it was like a game of blind man's bluff. He made sure he was only moving when he heard rustling, keeping his eyes peeled.

When Shawn's ears became more accustomed to the lack of sound he thought he could hear the rustle of leaves nearby amid the backdrop of the highway far away. Other than that only his rhythmic breathing brokered the air.

There it was again.

A slight rustling of leaves. It was over to the right about twenty paces away.

Shawn froze in place, not moving at all. He stared at the rustling, waiting to see if someone would come out of the plant cover and show themselves.

And someone did come out. A thin, shadowy figure.

It was a kid.

It had to be.

The shadow moved with a stiffness that was accompanied by rustling. It bent down as if to examine something. Shawn saw the silhouette give whatever it was on the ground a kick. A dull thud sound muffled the strike, like the kid had kicked a bag full of sand.

Or a body.

Maybe a dead body.

Shawn couldn't make out whatever the kid was doing. But it was clear that he or she was examining something on the ground.

Shawn tried to move a little closer, but only the next time he saw the figure move. He didn't want to take any risk of being spotted, but he also wanted to see who it was and what he was doing.

Shawn approached the silhouette with cautious trepidation. Somewhere in the distance, between the gentle breeze that ran through the leaves, Shawn could hear the Whitney Houston's I Want to Dance With Somebody, playing from his house.

Shawn inclined his head, looking to see if he could at least identify the figure and see what he was doing with whatever object was on the ground.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Composure (-2 Dark)

Shawn couldn’t see a thing - maybe if he snuck a little closer...

OOC:  Refresh the dice log  07:31, Today: Shawn Cramer failed (no successes) using 2d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 3,5.  Wits + Composure .

The figure turned and moved again downward towards the thing on the ground and Shawn crept closer towards the figure, keeping low to the ground and hoping not to be noticed.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Dexterity + Stealth

OOC: 19:38, Today: Shawn Cramer failed (no successes) using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 1,4,4,7,3.  Dexterity + Stealth.

Snap!


The cracking noise of a branch underfoot. Shawn looked up and saw that the shadowy figure had turned around and was peering into the darkness, clearly taking notice of the disturbance.

Then, starring in Shawn's direction, its arms went slack. He or she was no longer fiddling or working at whatever was on the ground. Just standing there. Facing Shawn.

One hand came up to rub, perhaps at the silloutte's face. Then it came back down.

Shawn tried not to panic - he couldn't see the figure's face, so hopefully the figure couldn't see his face. Just in case, he moved slightly, making sure his face was concealed behind some leaves, but letting him keep track of where exactly the figure was standing.

Shawn moved his head slightly behind a branch of leaves. The silhouette, now facing him, just stood there. A hand came up again and scratched at the top of the silhouette's head.

In the distance, the loud music from Shawn's house had changed to Girl's Just Wanna Have Fun.

The hand came down from the shadow's head. It still stood. Exactly where it was. Facing Shawn.

Shawn stood there for a while, waiting for the silhouette to make the first move for a minute or two. Without looking away, he tried to figure out if there was any deeper cover he could use to hide again.

The two just sat still in the forest for over two minutes. Shawn looked around to see if there was anything to hide behind. Any further cover.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Composure -2

While Shawn glanced through the darkness, waiting for the figure to make the first move. The figure just stood there against he background of the crescent moon high above. Just standing there facing Shawn in the dark.

OOC: 21:05, Today: Shawn Cramer failed (no successes) using 2d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 2,3. Wits + Composure -2.

It was too dark to distinguish between the trees and what might make a better hiding spot.

The figure stood there, an outline in darkness. It sniffed once and cleared its throat and Shawn briefly thought that it might say something. If it was an adult, the sound might have indicated whether or not it was a man or a woman. But it was clearly a kid. And so the throat clearing gave nothing away.

The silhouette said nothing. It just stood there giving all appearances as if it was facing and staring at Shawn directly for all Shawn knew.

Shawn watched the figure for what felt like a good five minutes, truly an eternity in the dark forest and an impossible task for a younger kid like Ralph.

Nothing.

Eventually, Shawn couldn’t take the silence any more. “Hello?” Though at least he pitched his voice a little differently, lower so that he didn’t quite sound like himself.

Nothing.

The figure said nothing.

It adjusted itself as if to further align with the origin of Shawn's voice in the darkness. But it didn't take a step back or move forward. It just stood there without any response to Shawn.

Shawn moved to the side a little, enough so that there was enough underbrush that the figure couldn't directly charge him. "I saw what you did at that party." He kept pitching his voice differently, trying to provoke a response... He just needed to confirm whether or not this really was Bradford.

Shawn moved to the side, but was still about fifteen strides away. As he moved, the figure stood still, moving only to face the sound of Shawn's voice, adjusting its posture but more or less staying in the same spot.

After Shawn spoke the words, the silence drew on in awkward infinity. Shawn could feel Feddler's thoughts remark on the strangeness of the scene: two kids in the forest, in the black of night. One speaking out loud and trying to hide, the other doing nothing.

"But how do we know?" Feddler asked, implying the need to know or confirm that it was Bradford, something Shawn was presumably already thinking.

But the figure gave nothing away. It just stood there facing in Shawn's general direction. The distant wail of the party music filled in the silence with Bonnie Tyler's Total Eclipse of the Heart.

I'm not sure. But he's on the trail we were following, and Bradford couldn't have been going that fast. And another kid would've spoken up or moved around by now, right? Shawn wasn't entirely convinced of his logic, but something had to happen to break the stalemate. He carefully pulled out his own Liar's Goblet, still keeping an eye on the figure - if anything provoked it to action, it'd be appearing to take something out.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:57, Tue 05 Mar 2019.

Shawn slowly removed the Liar's Goblet. He waited. He waited.

And the figure stared. Or at least it appeared to stare. The was nothing indicating that it showed any interest or even that it had noticed. For all Shawn's observation, the kid, whomever it was, seemed oddly fine with just standing in the complete darkness of the forest and facing him.

Somewhere up above in one of the trees a bird made an ugly, crowing noise.

The figure briefly raised its head to look up. And then back towards Shawn's direction. It now appeared to be facing him just as before. No sudden movements. No steps forward. Not even registering any movements in response to Shawn's taking the object out.

Shawn slowly raised the goblet to his lips and drank down the couple of tears that were lingering in the bottom of the cup. Then, as prepare he was going to be, he stepped forward towards the figure. He took it slowly - the further away from the figure he was when he managed to see who was there, the safer he was. He squinted into the gloom.

Shawn stepped slowly forward with the Liar's Goblet in his hand. And the figure slowly came into focus. Shawn could see the kid had ratty, messed up hair that sprang up from the right side of his head like he had just been woken up.

Closer still and he could see that the kid was skinny. Very skinny.

Michael's face came into view. As Shawn stepped forward he saw that the boy bore the same expression as always: dull, vapid and totally devoid of expression. He seemed completely oblivious to how strange the encounter of the last five minutes had been with him there, standing in the middle of the forest and not answering Shawn.

"I didn't do it." He said to Shawn in that deep, gravely voice that seemed at odds with his skinny frame.

Shawn could see that Michael's hands were spread open and palms up. They had a wet, slippery look to them as they the moon passed through the trees above, pushing raking light across his forearms and fingers that were covered in blood.

Shawn felt some of the tension leave his body. He was about to say something, but remembered at the last moment why that might be a liability. He carefully spit the tears back into the goblet before opening his mouth. "Oh, I'm so glad it's you."

Shawn liked how he didn't have to pretend around Michael, or worry about sounding weird. So he could ask the question he really wanted to instead of beating around the bush. "I know you didn't do it. Was it my body you found?"

Michael blinked. Then he slowly shook his head. He pointed downward, index finger slick and slippery wet with blood.

Shawn looked down and saw that slumped over and strewn with mud was a body.  One arm was stretched out across the ground, dark, warm blood pooling out across the dry forest floor. Michael bent down and gave the body a shove. It rolled over and Shawn saw his own face turn up towards him. One eye of the face was open, the other was close. It stared blankly up to the sky, a long gash across the corpse's forehead, opening up as wide as a mouth and exposing white bone underneath.

"It wasn't you." Michael replied. "Because you are still alive."

"That's true." Shawn wasn't sure how to explain the existence of the other him to Michael, but that was the logic Shawn himself was using. It wasn't him because he was still alive. He walked over to the corpse. "Bradford Stork did this. He's a bad kid."

He knelt down to check the body carefully, trying to avoid any blood. At least he knew roughly where he was looking - the broken pieces of crystal ball should be roughly where he kept them on his body. He hoped and prayed that they hadn't been stolen - wasn't that his birthday wish? That things wouldn't be as bad as they looked?

Inside Shawn felt for the shards. There was a slight 'pang' of pain as one poked him in the finger a bit, like touching a needle. But they were there.

"You were not a twin before. And now you are not a twin again." Michael reasoned, starting down at the corpse and then at Shawn.

Before Shawn could reply, he felt a welling feeling in his stomach. It rose up from his guts and ran up his spine. It was warm and refreshing.

It was Feddler.

He could feel that Feddler very much wanted to stop Bradford somehow. And he wanted to know if Shawn wanted that too. Not just to protect Bobby. But to to protect Ralph.

Shawn took a deep breath, and then started gathering up the crystal shards from the other him's pockets. Just in case, he made sure to put them in a different pocket than the one he had his own shards in - he didn't know if they'd react to one another, but he wanted to avoid finding out until he got home safe. While he worked, he glanced up at Michael. "We shouldn't tell anyone about this. I'm not supposed to have a twin." He didn't want Michael to get in trouble, but just as importantly, Michael could help against Bradford.

He felt the feelings welling up from Feddler, and was a little surprised that the imp seemed to care about Bobby and Ralph as much as he did. He tried to send back his own feelings - his desire to protect Bobby and Ralph, but also the sense that Shawn would probably need Feddler's help with all this. He might have to do some bad things to stop Bradford, but if it was to protect Bobby and Ralph, were they really that bad?

Shawn noticed that his own attention between what he was saying and how Michael was responding was suddenly, and almost involuntary - divided.

On the one hand, Shawn was completely aware of what he was saying and feeling with regards to 'not telling anyone' and also the genuine thoughts of not wanting to get Michael in trouble.

Almost simultaneously, it was Feddler who was charting out potential pathways and implications that could be derived from the current situation. The idea that the body had been found, that Michael was covered in blood. That there were 'two' Shawns and that there should only be one.

"I didn't do it." Michael said, breaking the thoughts in Shawn's head. "We can't tell anyone." Michael repeated stoically. "We can't tell anyone, and we can't just leave it here. That is why I started to take all of the teeth out and ruin the face." He explained.

"Last time I ruined the face, but not the teeth. That's how they found it." he explained.

"But that wasn't my fault either." He clarified in a monotone voice like he was speaking about the weather instead of getting rid of a grisly murder.

Shawn could tell where the train of thought Feddler was charting - or maybe it was his own thoughts that the imp was simply following along with. Michael would get in trouble if he was caught like this, and even beyond their strange friendship, Shawn knew that if his current plan fell through, it could very well come down to killing Bradford. And Michael was the only person he knew who had experience at doing something like that. He had to keep Michael free and on his side.

"You've got a lot of blood on you, Michael. That'll be how they figure it out." Fortunately, since Shawn was still around, no one would be actively looking for his body in the woods. "You'll have to get cleaned up before you go home."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:13, Mon 11 Mar 2019.

Michael nodded.

Next moment he bent down into the darkness next to the corpse. There was a soft squelching sound and then a slight, crispy snapping sound.

Michael stood up. "That was the last tooth." He said in a dry, almost bored voice.

He said nothing about Shawn's possible plan, but the movement alone meant that he somewhat understood and was expecting Shawn to elaborate.

Once Shawn was done with the shards, he equally methodically stripped the corpse of its copies of the Liar's Goblet and rabbit's foot. "Where were you gonig to clean up before I came here? And what were you going to do with the teeth?" He looked over at Michael, trying to see how much blood he had gotten on him.

It was a lot of blood. A lot. Michael's hands and wrists. His arms and legs. Even his face had streaks of blood on them. Even Shawn had specks of it on him, he noticed now. It was hard to grab anything from the corpse without sullying himself.

Michael didn't answer Shawn. He just shrugged, his face a slab of emotionless, his arms slack and indifferent.

Shawn tried to brush the specks of blood on him off in the dirt. "Do you have a change of clothes in your shed?" He remembered Michael showing him his shed, where he had dead animals. Another, more risky thought occurred to him, but he wasn't sure how else to keep Michael from getting caught. "Michael, how good are you at trying that taste bad and eating it anyway?"

Michael didn't answer for a second. Then he uttered a single word

"What?" as if he didn't understand Shawn's question. They stood there in the darkness for a second.

....."What?" Feddler asked, beginning to think about what Shawn might be saying. "Are you planning to not deal with Bradford?" Feddler asked Shawn, within Shawn's own mind. "To not destroy him immediately?" Feddler asked again, this time with horror.

Shawn shook his head for a moment to clear it of Feddler's voice. "Uh, nevermind about that eating thing. But I need to borrow your shed. It's important for stopping Bradford." He tried to transmit the basics of his plan to Feddler to stop his horror. I have a plan to use the crystal bits to stop Bradford, but I can't just do it out here. I need to go somewhere no one's going to interrupt me.

"My shed." Michael repeated. He took a couple of steps and then stopped, turned back around to face Shawn.

"So we are going to leave the other you here." He stated. It sounded like a statement, but it probably was a question.

"Do you think Bradford will kill Bobby?" Feddler asked, as if his curiosity was peaked.

Shawn nodded and follows after Michael. "We should have time before anyone finds...him. It'd take too long to move the body right now."

I warned Bobby to keep away from Bradford - Ralph too. ...and I won't let Bradford hurt him. He tried to project confidence in a plan that was mostly just guessing at this point.

"OK." Michael said, moving forward without another word. He shuffled through the dim-lit forest, feet crunching leaves on the forest floor.

"What if Bradford is killing Bobby right now?" Feddler asked, pushing out horrific possibilities into Shawn's mind, the Imp's own thoughts growing both anxious and excited by the prospect of action against Bradford. Of protecting Bobby and Ralph. Of tying up all of the loose ends.

In truth, Feddler's anxieties were also Shawn's, and he tried to suppress them by staying rational about it. It's still way too early for the party to have ended - and there's no way he'd strike with that many people around. Besides, Bradford's covered in blood and would need to get changed, otherwise people would see it and call the police.

The air was warm, but cooler than it had been at the beginning of the summer as Shawn walked through the shrouded depths of the forest. The wound around the old sump on the corner of block, the boys catching sight of a winding trail that was only a dozen or so yards before breaking into the expanse of a backyard. The sounds of cars on the highways were faint but could now be heard.

As Shawn drew closer he saw it was Michael's backyard. The music from Shawn's own house across the street was still playing, lending credence to the idea that the party was still moving forward.

Michael said nothing, approaching the shed door in his backyard and then stopping and staring at it, back facing Shawn.

"Are you sure that Bobby and Ralph are even at the Party?" Feddler's question prodded at Shawn's consciousness.

"He's killed us before." Feddler stated "And if he doesn't know that there are two of us, he will soon."

The cake only came out a few minutes ago, there's no way Bobby and Ralph would have left. And if this works, he won't be able to kill us. Shawn tried to think confidently as they approached the shed. "I'm going to need a little bit of privacy in there, so don't come in, even if you hear weird noises. While you wait, you should find a hose to wash the blood off of you." Assuming Michael does so, he tries to head inside of the shed.

Michael stood next to the shed door as Shawn opened it, all dark hollows from the shadows on his face. But he didn't say anything at all. He just stood there with his arms down by his sides and with an indifferent expression on his face like Shawn had been reading stereo instructions instead of asking him to use his shed for some unknown purpose in the night.

The shed door closed with slight creaking sound, its hinges protesting since last being disturbed. The smell inside the shed was one of gasoline and cut grass. There was also a grimy, oily smell emanating from somewhere in the dark shed.

And that was it. There was no light with the door shut. It was almost complete darkness.

"Do not worry about the light." Feddler advised. "But if your plan is to put together the shards, than surely you will need to see or else you might cut yourself."

Shawn knew Feddler had a point, so he opened the door a crack so he could look for a flashlight. It was a shed, there was bound to be one.

It was right there in front of Shawn on a nearby shelf. But the light also illuminated other things: Hammers, screwdrivers, gardening tools and....


Bones.

Many bones. They were on the shelves. They hung from the rafters of the ceiling of the shed from long ropes like some kind of butcher's shop.

"Your friend Michael has been busy." Feddler said. And Shawn wasn't so sure that Feddler didn't approve in some way. He could feel the Imp smile at all of those ropes, but it wasn't clear if it was a smile that indicated Michael was more than Feddler thought, or whether Feddler would have liked to see Michael's dark work for himself.

Shawn pushed aside any worries about the bones for now; it was Michael's business, and it was probably just animals, right? And it meant that Michael was probably more dangerous than Bradford, which was good, right? Besides, right now he had work to do. He set the flashlight down on a shelf so it was pointing at the floor of the shed, and then he cleared a space of clutter so he had a flat, illuminated spot to work.

The other 'him' had wanted to do this, Shawn remembered from the vision he'd had of his death, but he had assumed he needed Mr. Clayton there with him. Maybe it would have helped, maybe not, but Shawn didn't have the luxury of that anymore. His plan was simple, if foolish. Mr. Clayton had stolen Bobby and Ralph from him by hijacking his wish with the crystal ball, but now Shawn was going to use it to steal Mr. Clayton.

Bradford had said what Mr. Clayton had done could only be done by a dummy, but Shawn was hoping that wasn't quite true. After all, he'd been inside his own wish, seen the wishing pyramid, even freed it from the chains that Mr. Clayton had tried to bind it with. More importantly, when he'd done that, he'd absorbed some of Mr. Clayton's occult knowledge. Maybe even knowledge he could use to copy what the dummy had done.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small pouch he'd received the soul rock in. There wouldn't be enough for another wish, but maybe there was a little dust still remaining, a bit of power he could use. Carefully, he reached into his pockets and started filling the pouch with fragments of the crystal ball, both his and the ones he'd taken from his body. The crystal ball was broken, but even if it was broken now, it had been whole in the past. And if the crystal ball could be used to see the future or the past, it was already a little outside of its time.

He cut his finger a little on one of the shards, but he didn't try to stop it from bleeding just yet. Instead, he took out his spare Liar's Goblet and placed it in the centre of the illuminated space. He was going to be lying to the whole world, telling it that it had always been him that had Mr. Clayton, not Bradford. He dripped a few drops of his own blood into the goblet before he finished filling the pouch and sealed it off with the drawstrings. After a moment's thought, he set it down in front of the goblet, close enough to touch.

Next, he pulled out his deck of cards, and started laying them out around the goblet and the pouch filled with crystal. He laid them out in an imitation of his card trick, ace of spades facing up between the two items. He knew the cards weren't magic by themselves, but the trick itself was connected to the Krinner, and there was power in that.

He took out his spare rabbit's foot, and gently placed it on top of the ace of spades. He didn't want to go to the Circus, but Little Stone had wanted to use its essence to power his own spell. Maybe he could use it in the same way.

Shawn stepped back a little to look at his little jury-rigged collection of artifacts, but he knew there was one more ingredient needed. It was the way the Circus had found him, the thing that Griffix had craved, and the weapon he'd used to kill Gaggles. All of his darkest, evilest thoughts, the things that made him a bad kid. He knew Mr. Clayton was filled with Bradford's, and if Shawn wanted to steal the dummy he'd have to provide ones of his own.

Of course, he didn't think them right now; he needed to think. Instead, he reasoned through what he was about to do. He would drink from the goblet, and then speak to the crystal, telling it that he was the one who was Mr. Clayton's ventriloquist. Then, with the power of the rabbit's foot behind it, the crystal would change his wish to make that true. All he had to do from there was think all of his nastiest, evilest thoughts and push them into Mr. Clayton. It was...frankly, it was a not a terribly well-considered plan. But with the scraps of knowledge he'd stolen from Mr. Clayton in the wishing realm, he hoped he could at least tell if it was something that could work.

It all came together in a massive jumble. Shards of crystal glinted among the strands of hair that the Rabbit's foot left. It all sat in the Liar's Goblet. Or as much of it that could fit there did. Here and there cards jutted out from underneath the sickly display amid chalky pieces of soul rock. Several shards and stray hairs lay around the cup.

"It could work. But it is not without risk. Every time you touch the other side there is a risk." Feddler acknowledged.

It looked like some morbid, deathly drink that a monster would eat. And it was made all the more sinister with the dark thoughts that Shawn was thinking. The thoughts he had acted on. The lies he had told.

Shawn thought long and hard. It had to work, didn't it? Even though he truly didn't know what he was doing, he was guided by instinct.

Sick instinct.

The kind that was forged in the depths of the Underworld among the dead. In the High Places near the Summit where Little Stone had set up his tent. And in the sewers fishing around for a dead kid's body with Crowley Noggenfogger.

That had to count for something, didn't it.

So Shawn concentrated and tried to will his way towards an occultist solution to the Bradford and Mr. Clayton problem.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Crafts + Occult with the following results. Each success in the roll will change the story accordingly. (willpower may be used)

0 Successes: Cursed! Nothing good happens. 1) Bradford is still intent on killing Shawn. 2) Bradford is still Mr. Clatyon's Ventriloquist. 3) Bobby and Ralph still live with their 'new' family. 4) Shawn loses all magical items, even the ones that weren't used. 5) Shawn adds condition 'accursed sickness' to his character sheet. Shawn is afflicted by a sudden sickness that gives him -1 Strength permanently.

1 Success: Kaboom! The air shimmers around crafted artifacts and then the whole thing explodes. 1) Bradford is still intent on killing Shawn. 2) Bradford is still Mr. Clatyon's Ventriloquist. 3) Bobby and Ralph still live with their 'new' family. 4) Shawn loses all magical items, even the ones that weren't used.

2 Successes: An offering of fire! After a few moments, the entire construction catches fire. 1) Bradford is still intent on killing Shawn. 2) Bradford is still Mr. Clatyon's Ventriloquist. 3) Bobby and Ralph still live with their 'new' family.

3 Successes: A worthy sacrifice.... Dark smoke wafts out of the Liar's Goblet.
1) Bradford is still intent on killing Shawn. 2) Bradford is still Mr. Clatyon's Ventriloquist.

4 Successes: Dark Ritual. Shawn smells something burning, but there is nothing to be seen. An ominous feeling is felt in Shawn's body as Mr. Clayton switches sides. 1) Bradford is still intent on killing Shawn.

5 Successes: It Worked Perfectly!. All of the above 1-5 have changed. A new scene begins with Shawn and Mr. Clayton.

6+ Successes: Be Careful what you wish for All of the above 1-5 have changed. A new scene begins with Shawn and Mr. Clayton. Shawn's dark ritual attracts the attention of an evil supernatural entity.

"Wait!" Feddler insisted. "Do not do anything." And Shawn could feel the Imp sifting through bits and fragments of the Imp's own memory. Flashes and images bubbled up from the depths of Shawn's mind: a knife slicing through a hand. A scream that bellowed. A naked woman on a pyre, fire all around. They came to the surface of Shawn's consciousness like objects released from chains in the great deep of the ocean, floating up to show a glimpse of what Feddler had once been a part of and then fading into blurry obscurity once again. Image after image surfaced only to be replaced by one more horrible than the next.

Then it all stopped as Feddler spoke.

"This is no sacrifice." The Imp weedled in a straining, high pitched voice. "This is no sacrifice for the kind of Blood Magic you are looking to perform. Perhaps if you had more soul rock, it would not matter. But here, you give nothing that you do not already have. There is no Blood. And most importantly, there is no malice in your action. An unworthy sacrifice. There is no attempt at true evil. The Proprietor and any other is unlikely to smile upon this. Previous wishes were built upon the stolen souls of the dead. The murdered."

"Your efforts are likely in vain. There is always a chance they may work, but it is unlikely. Might I suggest something more?"


OOC: Shawn may do one or more of any of the following to increase his dice pool in the previous roll:

Shawn slices himself down the arm (-2 lethal damage) pouring blood onto the structure. This action may only be used once. +1 to dice pool.

Shawn uses all of the items that he has, destroying all of them and adding them to the structure: +2 to dice pool

Shawn cuts one of his own fingers off, adding it to the structure: +3 to dice pool Flaw gained: dice pool, -1 on all physical-related feats involving that hand permanently. Derangement gained as well.

Shawn kills Michael in a brutal, violent act inside the shed, offering him up as a sacrifice: +7 to dice pool This will result in an eventual Morality roll.

Shawn grabs one of the crystal shards and slices down his arm, letting the blood spill over the occult construction. He keeps pouring all of his negativity into the ritual. But...nothing else seemed to be happening. His frustration grew, and while he tried to put that into the ritual too, it didn’t seem to make a difference. It’s not working...nothing’s happening- what do I do, Feddler? He looked around the shed in desperation, was there some way to use the animals that died here?


OOC: 06:45, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 8d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 2,2,4,7,9,4,9,1.  Crafts + Occult + 1 + WP.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:54, Thu 21 Mar 2019.

After a few moments, the entire construction caught fire. It smoldered in a spontaneous combustion--instantaneously and without a bright spark or any other material means that would have caused a normal fire by Shawn's experience.

The fire pushed up first white smoke and then a deep, billowing black--and choking smoke--filling the small shed with acrid air that smelled of rotten wood and gasoline.

"Run!" Feddler yelled. "Before the fire burns us all!"

The shed wasn't the only thing that was burning. Shawn's forearm burned with pain as blood ran out like a wine skin that had been slashed.

Yet he knew in his mind, with stunning clarity that broke through the smoke, that Bradford was still intent on killing Shawn and that Bradford was still Mr. Clatyon's Ventriloquist. Shawn even knew that Bobby and Ralph still lived with their 'new' family.

Shawn retreated to the shed's doorway, holding his arm tightly, but as he passed through the threshold, he felt frustration well up in him. He paused just outside the shed as he understood how little the ritual had accomplished, and he turned around on his heel to look into the fire. Feddler had spoken of the Proprietor, and of others who smiled upon true evil. It was them who hadn't been impressed by his ritual...it was their fault it hadn't worked.

Maybe it was the fear in his heart, the pain from his arm, or all the negative thoughts he'd tried to channel, but he found himself talking to the fire, the one sign that he'd attracted some sort of attention, even if it hadn't been enough to get what he wanted. "That's it? You didn't do anything? Is it because I'm not evil enough, I didn't do enough bad things? Haven't you been watching? I killed all those kids at the safehouse, and Roger in Minnesota, and don't forget about all those souls I stole and gave to you. I did all that while Bradford was sitting around listening to tapes..." His voice was low, barely even audible over the hiss of the fire and smoke.

"Bradford's a moron, he's just running around and stabbing people, he doesn't know what he's doing. He's like Cherrywinks and Gaggles and all them, and they all lost and failed. And even if he wins, he's gonna end up in jail or he's gonna kill himself and it's all over, no more evil. He's not worse than me - last time we met he needed Mr. Clayton's help to do anything, and that wasn't even the real me. I would do so much badder things than him if I had Mr. Clayton..." Shawn was babbling at this point - it was like the side of him that festered every time he smiled and went along with something he hated, every time he pretended to like someone who was annoying, every time life threw another obstacle in his way and he just had to take it - it was like Shawn's filters had gone away and it was just releasing pure id into the fire.

"If I had Mr. Clayton, I'd show everyone - I'd be the free one, and everyone, Bradford, Mom, Dad, Ralph, Eddy, they'd be like Bobby, they'd be like I am now, saying other people's words, feeling other people's feelings, they'd all be the empty-headed dummies, not me - not us. And anyone I don't like, anyone I didn't care about, I could give them to you." It was all blurring together - he wasn't sure if this was a lie to make what had answered his ritual think he was eviller than he was and changed its mind, or if there was some deep-seated evil to Shawn, a fundamental brokenness. Or if there was even a difference anymore. All his desperate ideas, all his half-formed plans, they were all falling apart. All that was left was a begging childish entitlement; a kid who wanted his toy and a grown-up who'd refused. "Gimme Mr. Clayton. I don't care about Bobby and Ralph's new house or if Bradford still wants to kill me. Just give me the dummy. Gimme..."

"Yes!!" Feddler agreed with savage reassurance at Shawn's diatribe. "It's not my fault either." He clarified, voice retreating to mix of sadness and anger. Shawn could feel the warmth of the Imp's own feelings, the heat of his disappointment welling up from deep within Shawn's stomach traveling up his back and then spreading out to Shawn's fingertips.

"I didn't ask for any of this. I wasn't supposed to be stuck here. I don't even know how to make this work!" And he shook a piece of paper, a memory really. A set of memories. A set of Shawn's memories about the Proprietor and about what he had heard of him. About how Bradford had burned his face looking in the Well and about how the Proprietor approved of wishes that were made in the Evil Circus.

"How am I supposed to....How are we supposed to know what works? If we had been given Soul Rock, more than we had, then things would be different." He complained.

"We're just victims in all of this. I was put here against my will. And you are suffering because of what happened to Mr. Selick! It's Gaggles' fault! And It's Mr. Cherrywink's fault for chasing you!" He shouted, pointing to a stack of Shawn's memories about Mr. Cherrywinks.

"It's the Tattooed Lady's fault for killing me!" He decried, pointing to series of yellow parchment papers inside of Shawn's head, which detailed the grisly act that put Feddler inside Shawn's mind.

Shawn's anger was expended, there was nothing left but a dull ache and the pain from his arm. His last ditch plan had failed, and now he had to figure something out to deal with Bradford directly. Is there anything else you know how to do? We need to stop Bradford, but even with Michael's help, I don't know if I can.

From inside his head, Feddler would be able to tell that Shawn didn't mean that he was unwilling to kill Bradford, not anymore. He'd been trying so hard - he tried words, he tried magic, and now he couldn't see any other possible option. Bradford had to die. I know we have to go to his house to confront him, but I don't know what happens after that. I don't know how to stab people or shoot them or anything like that, and we can't just hope Michael will beat him. Is there a...cursed spider, or a magic word or something I can use against him...

"There's not enough time!" Feddler complained. Shawn could feel the deep-seated regret in the Imp's whiny tone. Regret for having been asleep inside of Shawn's mind for so long. Regret for not taking a more active role until now. Regret for not having tried to teach Shawn what he knew of Occult magic--blood and death magic really-sooner.

But most of all, Shawn could feel the fear coming off in waves from Feddler. The Imp now had fully understood that Mr. Clayton and Bradford were a threat. Not just to Shawn. But to Feddler because his existence was confined to Shawn. And in this thought--a thought which Shawn could feel coming out of Feddler--Shawn realized that Feddler had previously dismissed Bradford as just a child. Or rather, to put it more accurately, Feddler was thinking that very thought, and Shawn was able to pick up on it.

"If I had done more sooner, than maybe we would be more prepared." Feddler admitted. "We should go over to his house. It is probably late. He probably will be heading home soon. Afterwards, we can sneak into his house. Maybe I will be able to think of something on the way."

"Any way it turns out, we need to be more.......in sync in the future. You need to be listening for me. And I need to be paying more attention to what is going on. I need to show you the things that I know. And you must put them into practice." Feddler said, mind still reeling from regret and the very real idea that his existence might be snuffed out at the hands of a boy and his paranormal dummy.

So you do know some stuff? Please, anything could be helpful here. We have Michael, but even he might not be enough. Shawn felt a sense of frustration, both at Feddler for holding back, but also himself for not trying to push Feddler to help more earlier. Like, do you know anything else about the stuff I have? Like the Liar's Goblet, or if there's any way to use my card trick on Bradford or Mr. Clayton?
This message was last edited by the player at 19:37, Sun 24 Mar 2019.

"These arts are not quick solutions. They take time and practice. Training and repetition. The proper ingredients must be obtained. They must be measured with the greatest of care. The incantations must not only be memorized, but pronounced correctly. All of this you must learn. The slightest mistake in any of these things could alter the results drastically and to deadly effect."

"I am afraid that there is not enough time to learn these things for the task that you---that we--must undertake responsibility for."

Shawn watched as the small fire from the blazing cup that that spontaneously combusted suddenly grew much larger and brighter, the flames catching onto the table and then racing across to the side of the shed. The heat was intense and the bright, flicking flames cast light on all of the tools the gasoline cans and the bags of fertilizer.

It was clear that if the fire wasn't put out soon, the entire shed would be ablaze within minutes, if not less.

Shawn doesn't waste time - he turns around and heads for Michael's house. There was bound to be a garden hose around here somewhere. Well, do you at least know if it's safe to use water on this fire?

"What!?" Feddler asked, somewhat shocked, somewhat confused. Somewhat not knowing if Shawn was talking to him.

"What?" Michael's voice cut in from the side of Shawn outside of the shed, voice flat and uncertain. As if he wasn't sure if Shawn was talking to him or not.

"My shed is on fire." He stated, just like he was talking about the school bus arriving or the color of a car that was passing by on the street.

Shawn realized he'd been so distracted that he'd murmured those words to himself rather than just think them. Michael was the most important to get on his side right now, so he addressed him first. "There was a spark and it caught something. We need to get the hose to put it out before it spreads." At least he didn't have to worry about acting properly surprised or up around Michael. Just had to focus on the task at hand.

Then, he very carefully thought towards Feddler. Is it safe to use water on this fire to put it out?

"Yes." Michael said, and he started to jog slowly towards the side of his house, the shadows enveloping him. Shawn heard some shuffling of some leaves, and then a few moments later Michael appeared holding a hose. It was probably green. But the way the moon caught it, it looked gray.

Orange light cast dancing shadows on the ground as the fire grew. Now the shed was really burning. A great gout of flame shot out from its side, black smoke billowing out, the stench of burning wood.

"It must be the gasoline. Quickly, use the hose! Put water on it!" Feddler yelled, affirming, no...insisting that Shawn spray water on it as quickly as possible.

Shawn pointed the hose at the flames, squeezing the nozzle if there was one. He aimed for the base of the fire, where it had stared, aiming for where the gasoline was. Maybe if he soaked it enough it wouldn't spread any further...

Shawn took hold of the hose and squeezed.

Nothing came out.

"Uh-Oh." Michael said, "It's not on." he noted. And he slowly jogged back to the house, shed burning and sending a bright blaze up to the night sky. Above the crackling din of the fire Shawn could hear the squeak-squeak and the turn of the metal to turn the water on. He felt the rush of movement in the hose as the water came up through it, the cool temperature change as it coursed inside of the hose up to where he held his hand.

He also felt the burning pain of his arm. A deep, sharp burning from where he had cut himself. It hurt. It hurt really bad.

Shawn adjusted his grip so that he was putting pressure his arm and holding the hose at the same time. His cut really hurt...but he could push past it. It was like the times on set he'd had to stay in character even though he was exhausted. You push through the pain, pretend it was happening to someone else.

A spray came out of the hose that was direct. A single, powerful stream shot out and into the blazing inferno. Almost at the same time, the door of the shed fell off, the top of it already having caught on fire, the wood slamming onto the grass.

Acrid smoke was everywhere now. The hose was making some affect on the side of the shed, but the roof was now completely flaming up, black wooden beams now visible, the heat was pushing against Shawn.

Michael took a step back, shielding his eyes from the bright flames and more from the wall of heat that they generated.

Grimly, Shawn gave a little ground against the heat, but maintained the stream of water on the fire. He spent a few seconds spraying the top of the fallen door to put that bit out, just in case it spread to the grass. He spared a glance at Michael without halting the stream. "Does your house have a fire extinguisher?"

There was a hissing sound as water made contact with the falling door, the sizzling of the hot flames being extinguished. But the fire still burned on the shed itself. The top of the roof still jumped with fire. Hot flames licked hungrily up at the night sky, wood all crackling.

Here the Shawn and Michael were, right outside of Michael's house, a raging fire threatening to burn down the shed and perhaps the adjacent forest near it. Who knew what would burn if that happened?

Feddler half expected to see a group of fire fighters or parents or anyone as Shawn turned around to see Michael's response. But no one was there except Michael. He offered Shawn a silent shrug and then jogged towards the house as if he was going to check to see if a fire extinguisher existed.

The fire continued to burn.

Shawn kept the hose on the fire, now trying to make sure the flames didn't reach the grass rather than saving the shed itself. He didn't see anyone but Michael, which made him realize something. No one's come to look...and Bradford came after the other me in the basement, even though if he'd screamed, everyone would've heard. And Junior thought it was strawberry quick in the basement when it was obviously blood...did Bradford do something so that no one would notice stuff happening tonight? It wasn't a pleasant thought, especially with what that might mean for Bobby and Ralph.

"I am not so sure about that." Feddler thought. "I do not know. It could also be that others are busy. Or that they are at your party. But wait? Are people waiting for us at your party?"


It had looked like the entire shed was going to explode or that the flames would spread to the woods and then the house and then burn the whole neighborhood would burn down.

But that didn't happen. The consistent stream of water was putting the fire out. Now the flames on the roof were mostly doused. And thick, black smoke pushed up into the night sky, drifting over to the road in the neighborhood and smelling of soot.

"What should we do?" Michael said, breaking the silence.

Not everyone was at the party, though. Shawn kept spraying the shed, dousing it until there wasn't a single lick of flame or smoke left. He wanted no chance of it to spread or reignite. "Now? We've still gotta stop Bradford before he kills anyone else."

He sounded more confident than he actually was - he still wasn't sure how to actually do that. Do you know where that spider Griffix lent us might be now?

The fire smoldered as the water from Michael's hose assaulted the last remaining flames. Suddenly, the left wall of the shed collapsed, sending up a last gout of fire before falling into bright embers, the loud sound of cracking wood.

"Stop Bradford before it is to late." Michael repeated, like some kind of automaton.

"A spider? It says here that Griffix is dead." Feddler pondered, the sound of rummaging in Shawn's mind, a quick vision of the Imp sifting through papers in a row of long, old, gun-metal file cabinets. Then Feddler paused and stopped shuffling.

"Isn't it getting a little late in the game for these ideas?" He said with doubt. "Bradford might be well on his way to killing someone soon. Or maybe even us. Maybe we can get this kid to do something for us?" He said, referring to Michael. "He's done something like this before. Hold on."

More rummaging. "It says right here. Something about him killing a younger kid. I'm not saying we do that. Or...well? What is it we are we trying to do?"

"Just what is the plan?"

Shawn didn't let up, dousing even the embers until they were dull and black. "That's right, he's dangerous. Do you still have your pencil?"

I don't know...maybe? This whole magic thing was the only idea I had that didn't hurt Bradford. I don't have another plan... That wasn't entirely true - he'd thought of a dozen since he realized Bradford was coming for him, they just all took time he didn't have, tools he didn't possess, or skills he hadn't learned. Shawn wiped his eyes - he told himself it was because of the smoke. Even if we get Michael to help, I don't know if he'd be enough...

"Pencil." Michael repeated. He grabbed at his clothing. He frisked his pockets and then slowly shook his head.

"I can remember it without writing." He affirmed.

Feddler thought a while. And he was silent. He stopped his shuffling. He stopped his rummaging. He stopped his questions. He even stopped breathing so much as Shawn could tell. There was a silent, flat-lining in Shawn's mind, as if the Imp was completely gone.

Then Shawn felt the stirring of Feddler once again. He pinpointed the Imp inhaling or at least imagined Feddler doing so. The Imp then spoke with measured words.

"Go back and get a kitchen knife. Not too big. Not too small." He was offering Shawn a plan, though the details had still yet to be explained. "Whatever happens tonight, or tomorrow, we have to defend ourselves at all times."

Shawn shook his head at Michael. "No, not the pencil for writing. The one for defending yourself." He remembered the talk they'd had before, about stabbing people with a sharpened pencil.

Shawn couldn't tell the details of Feddler's plan, but he was still trying to work out one of his own, just in case. Do you know how strong the Liar's Goblet is? If I tell someone that I'm not here, will they not see me, or will they just believe I think I'm not there?

"One pencil." Michael restated. "Not for writing but for defending." He padded himself down. Slowly reached into his pockets and produced a pencil.

It was a sorry looking thing. The eraser was flat and would probably make more smudges that erasing.

"Number two." Michael said, holding the pencil up so that Shawn could see.

Meanwhile, Feddler had grown anxious. "Let me check." Feddler rummaged around.

"I think they'll just believe that you think you are not there." Feddler looked around and finally there was a long creaking sound that was like nails on a chalk board.

"Sorry. The hinges on that drawer are really worn. There are was to augment your use of that object. But it will take some time and training. Your knowledge of such things is still very rudimentary."

"What now?" Feddler asked, still prodding Shawn for a plan.

Shawn nodded encouragingly. "That's really good, but I know Bradford has a real knife. Do you know where we could get ones of our own?"

I was hoping we could use the Goblet to convince people that Bradford should die, but I don't think they'd do that just because they thought I was telling the truth. But you're saying you can make me better at stuff? Is it easier if it's stuff I can already do? Shawn was a little disappointed at the limitations of the Goblet, but the idea of bringing in more help still seemed like a good idea. Injured as he was, the ruthless part of him wanted people he could stand behind.

Feddler...how many times would I need to use the card trick on someone before they'd kill for me and keep it a secret? The trick made people like him more, so surely there was a level (before it put them in comas like Eddy), where they'd do anything to help him. It was like him and Bobby and Ralph. It was a terrible thing to think of...but he could go back to his party, recruit Junior and Anthony and maybe find another kid who knew how to hurt people (there were bad kids in the neighbourhood, right?). Bradford had already broken the rules, so five on one seemed way safer than Shawn confronting Bradford by himself.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:58, Wed 03 Apr 2019.

Michael starred back with dead eyes. Flat eyes like the fish that Shawn used to see at the supermarket in Milwaukee. It was almost as if the boy was looking through Shawn to the other side of the smoldering shed.

He didn't say anything in response to Shawn's question.

"I do not know!" Feddler advised in loud frustration. "Use the Liar's Goblet. I do not know the results. I said I thought but I am not sure. How could I know? We've never done these things together. And while I know how to do things better at times, I do not know the core you are made of and how willing you are to sacrifice or to make sacrifices. Use it by all means. My thoughts are just based on reading these memories. I have knowledge beyond them, but most of its application is the result of actions that you have yet to take and forgotten knowledge that I am just starting to remember in this new environment."

"The Liar's Goblet will likely work in some fashion, just like this...." And Feddler read the memory of Shawn with Little Stone.

"But really, this is a very, very old artifact. I would use both the Liar's Goblet and the card tick together. Perhaps with some sort of sacrifice. We could probably do that. That I think is possible. How many times? It might depend on the person. It might also depend on the nature of what we offer. It might depend on my ability to remember certain details. But it is not impossible. Far from it. We would just need space and time. A place to prepare without being disturbed. Some ingredients. Something to sacrifice. And someone close. At this time, the person you would convince would need to be near. I say all of this but be advised: I am still waking from within you. I do not have all of the answers. You are as much a part of this knowledge as I am."

Shawn returned Michael's gaze evenly. He might have been nervous if it were another kid, but he knew it was unlikely that Michael was shocked or outraged. Once he was done thinking, Michael would tell him what he thought of Shawn's proposal.

Shawn wasn't entirely sure about combining artifacts into another ritual - the last one hadn't gone great, and this one would be probably taking place in his house. He tried to order his thoughts to make it easier for Feddler to pick up on his reasoning. Maybe we don't need the Goblet right away. Look, I like Bobby and Ralph enough that I'm risking my life to go after Bradford and save them. The card trick makes people like me more. Can I just use the card trick on someone until they like me that much? Or maybe a little more just to be safe? Then I might not even need the Goblet, I could just ask them normally...

Michael just kept staring. He observed Shawn more than anything else. Then he said

"I used to have a friend that used to look around the forest with me for cool stuff."

Meanwhile, Feddler was busy in Shawn's own head, trying to dialogue about the way forward. He shifted uncomfortably in the side of Shawn's head, and Shawn himself felt a uncomfortable, unbalanced physical feeling for just a moment. Then Feddler related his assessment with a tone of disappointment.

"I do not know if any of these ideas will work. Practice of the Occult is not something that can be easily grasped. And certainly not without risk. I would know more if we had time to practice. Or if we had taken or decide to take steps in that direction. I do not think I can answer in a positive or negative way to the questions you ask. I am just speculating on what could be."

"Having said that, we are are desperate. I am desperate. If Bradford kills you, he will kill me. And I do not want to die!"

Shawn didn't quite see how what Michael said connected with what he'd asked, but he trusted there was some relation that Shawn just didn't quite see. "What's your friend's name? Would I know them?"

All right, we should go back to the party and get Junior. He already likes me, so I'll take him up to my room and practice the card trick - maybe it'll jog your memory or give you an idea of how we could use it. You've got to try and remember as much as you can... Perhaps it was the aftereffects of the ritual, or just exhaustion, but Shawn found himself more willing to be ruthless when considering what to do next. Junior had been nothing but nice to him, but Shawn was thinking of him like a resource he had to spend.

"No." Michael said back to Shawn in his characteristic deep voice. "You wouldn't know him. He's gone now. He's in the juvenile facility for kids." Then he shrugged his shoulders as if that was all there was to say on the topic.

"The card trick...." Feddler said, as if fishing around for memories in the filing cabinets. Shawn got the sense that Feddler wasn't as familiar with what happened to ...Rufus. Then Feddler grasped the memory of Shawn playing the card trick with ....Rufus and how how Griffix had shown him how to use the cards, the first, and perhaps the only thing that Griffix had shared of mystical knowledge before...

"Before he died." Feddler finished the thought. "He's dead now, you know that don't you? Bradford killed him. Or Mr. Clayton. Either one of them killed Griffix. I'm not sure which." Feddler turned the memory around in Shawn's head and watched as what happened to Eddy happened to him.

"Interesting....."

“That’s too bad. The more people who’d be willing to help us the better.” Shawn was focusing on their survival, and he was glad Michael didn’t need too much sugar coating. “So, do you think you can find some weapons? I think I might be able to find more people to help us.”

Shawn could feel Feddler going through his memories. They weren’t pleasant to relive, but he tried to focus only on what would help beat Bradford. Do you think we can use that? I never really saw what it could do with Eddy, since he went into a coma. Is that something you know enough to help with? If we could make Junior and Anthony like me enough to kill Bradford for me without making another Rufus?

Michael's face was a mask of stone. Light from the moon illuminated the angular parts of his high cheeks, eyes dark in the hollows of his face.

He just shrugged and didn't say anything. Not indicating if he knew of weapons or not. Or even if he could find them. He just stared at Shawn. The same way he had stared for a long while in the forest in the darkness.

"Weapons." He said finally, indicating in his tone that such an idea was feasible. "Like, what kind of weapons?" He asked, voice flat amid the sizzling embers of the burned shed.

Feddler meanwhile was still rummaging through the filing cabinets, while at the same time trying to elaborate on his knowledge of the Occult and explaining to Shawn how it is practiced.

"I do not have the answers to those questions. It is a connection that we seek. An art that we must practice. Does the fire know where it will burn? You are both a chef and an ingredient in the act of any dark ritual." Feddler explained.

"You cannot consider yourself an observer of a mechanical action. What you ask for cannot be explained in a formula or something that can be predicted or a thought of in the way you have asked me."

"This is hard to explain." And Shawn felt the Imp sigh.

"Just the idea that you have selected out something as important means that you have influenced it in some way. You have chosen to select it apart from other things that you might have considered. So you have already placed a piece of yourself in that thing that you have selected. Now, everything around that thing that you have selected will appear to you as you experience it as either as something that will help you, hinder you, or something that is irrelevant to you."

"Do you understand?" Feddler asked, hopefully. "Tell me if you do not. But remember..." he said to Shawn with a wry smile, as he looked upon a Giant filing cabinet that read 'White Lies' in Shawn's mind. "There is no point in lying to me. I am inside of you. You and I are bound now. And it appears will will be that way for some time."

Shawn nodded reassuringly, like he was expecting a question like that. "Something sharp? Like a kitchen knife or a sharpened screwdriver?"

Shawn wasn't entirely sure about what Feddler was saying - he tried to break down what the imp meant in terms of what he should actually do. So...even choosing to use the cards is part of whatever dark ritual I end up doing? So I need to connect with it? Since we are bound, does that mean you can help me pick out things that'll help or hinder me?

"Sharp." Michael repeated dully. "A kitchen knife is sharp." He elaborated. "The screwdriver is in the shed. The shed is burned down." 

He stood there unmoving like some kind of statue. Perhaps he was waiting to say more. Or perhaps he was waiting for Shawn to say more.

"Hmmmmm." Feddler mused and Shawn could feel the Imp put some spectacles on the edge of his pointed nose, wings flapping to the side like a paper wasp. "Perhaps at this time it would be easier to say that I do not know what will help you. I see we have much practice to do, even to communicate how complicated these things are."

"We must take things one step at a time. To rush in any dark ritual at this time would reduce the chance of success. And it would increase the chance of something bad happening that does not meet your goal. But I must say, that I am worried. Worried that the time required to get these things correct is not necessarily time that we have."

"What do you think about this? What is the plan?" Feddler asked, deferring the decision to Shawn.

Shawn nodded. "So, you should find some sharp weapons to use to defend ourselves while I go back to the party and find some other people to help us. And then we meet back at where we found the body."

Shawn tried to think resolute thoughts, more to convince himself than Feddler. I think we go back to the party and see if the cards are enough to work with Junior. If they do, we try to get Anthony and maybe someone else to help as well. If not...we'll improvise from there. You just keep trying to remember more magic stuff in the meantime, okay?
This message was last edited by the player at 12:16, Sun 07 Apr 2019.

Michael stared for a few seconds. Then he simply turned around and headed towards his house, working his way up the hill through the low hanging smog, the smell of the burned-out shed still thick in the air.

Meanwhile, Feddler consumed what Shawn was saying. Shawn felt that Imp largely agreed with him. Then Shawn felt Feddler seize on the phrase 'try to remember' and that's when Shawn felt Feddler's anger well up. The Imp tried to control the anger, and managed to do so with surprising quickness. Instead of yelling, the Imp spoke in a firm voice, as it gained control over his emotions.

"Look." Feddler said. And intially it sounded like the phrase that someone would use to 'tell someone off' or 'give someone a piece of my mind' as Shawn's Mom was fond of saying.

But then Shawn felt the same feeling that one feels when they have a 'bright idea.' But instead of a bright idea, like a light bulb lighting in Shawn's head, Shawn felt a dim, 18th century lantern light up in his head. Then it became apparent that Feddler wasn't telling Shawn off, but actually wanted Shawn to 'Look.' To look inside of Shawn's own head, using the lantern that Feddler was holding to cast light on things.

"I need to see parts of you to 'remember' these things. To practice occult. This is what I am dealing with." Feddler explained.

It was a cramped room. Sure, there were rows of filing cabinets that showed some organization. The light moved across and Feddler walked down a narrow row that led into the darkness. After a few moments, Feddler stopped at a door. A large vault door with a strange wheel-lock, combination dial. The Imp raised his skinny, pink arm, long fingers and longer, sharper fingernails holding up the black lantern.

The flicking flames cast light on the vault door. There were letters that were engraved into the old, cast-iron metal. It read 'WHITE LIES.'

"This vault door is always here. I cannot pass. So these are areas that I cannot access in your mind. See how big the door is? How thick it is? That means that its contents are well guarded. It has now taken on its own form of reality."

Feddler approached the door and Shawn could see that there was a slot in the door. A small hole big enough to peer through. Feddler cast light on the hole. "Sometimes something will pass through there in the hall and I can catch a glimpse of it. That's when I can advise you of something. It's a small truth, wandering through the halls. Sometimes its a WHITE LIE itself. Either way, I try to deduce that and then research the memories. Then I use my Occult knowledge to advise us. To advise you."

Feddler turned the lantern away. The Imp moved through the cramped row of filing cabinets again and then abruptly stopped. The lantern swung around and then to the right. There was another, much larger vault door. A huge thing. It hadn't been there before. It was enormous and towering. It looked like the kind of vault buried deep in a secret government facility in the early 20th century. Gray thick bolts against the backdrop of thick, black-painted steel. "The location of this vault constantly moves. It can never be found in the same location. Obviously, I do not have access to it. I have drilled a hole into it. Sometimes to peer through it. To look into it. One time I saw something move inside. But every time the vault moves, the hole disappears. I cannot access this part of your mind either." Feddler raised the lantern, the dancing flame illuminated the large engraved letters 'LIES I TELL OTHERS'

"But there is one more door that I know exists. It prevents me from accessing the parts of you necessary to give you answers to the information you seek. It avoids me. It sees me coming and it changes its location according to my movements. I have never seen it. But my knowledge tells me that it exists. It is called 'LIES I TELL MYSELF.'

Shawn waited a few seconds to make sure Michael was heading in the right direction, and then started to head back to his own party. Before he did, though, he doused a bit of the shed in water, then picked up a pinch of the shed's ashes and pocketed it. Maybe it had picked up some magic from the ritual and would come in handy.

As he walked back, he listened to to Feddler's explanation. It was strange to think of his brain containing all of that, but it was definitely how Feddler seemed to interact with him. I'm not sure how I can help you find it - is there a way to let you in? If I told myself a lie, could you follow it? The thought made him uncomfortable, Feddler seeing what would be in that vault. But he tried to reassure himself that the imp was basically part of him now and could be trusted - ironically, a lie he was telling himself!

In the meantime, he kept trying to think about things in terms of what would help or hinder what he was trying to do. Oh wait, I remember something. Griffix said how you look makes you better at the card trick. I guess it distracts them or makes them want to like you more. Dunno how to use that, though, unless you've got a way to make me look better.

Shawn spoke to Feddler in his own mind. Feddler tried to explain to him that Feddler couldn't tell what was a lie and what wasn't a lie sometimes. According to the Imp, this was an indication that Shawn himself might not be able to discern the difference in all circumstances.

The Imp went on to explain that the depth and frequency of Shawn's lies had changed Shawn's perception of what was true.

The problem, as the Imp explained it, was that Feddler needed access to broader parts of Shawn, in order to make Shawn's essence into part of the ritual. If the ritual was made of a lie, or part of a lie, the results of the rituals could be drastically changed.

"It's like a long ball of yarn in here that has been twisted and wound into a hundreds of knots." Feddler finished. "So you see, the fixing of it is not something that can just be remembered or rushed into. At this stage, we cannot tell if a single thread will lead to another not, or something that is loose, free and untangled."

Shawn contemplated that - he didn't feel like he had any difficulty telling what was true just because he told lies. If anything, wouldn't it make him better at telling when people were lying. Still, he tried to focus on practical stuff. What if...I tried to think of something important about myself that's definitely true? Could you follow that to whatever my essence is?

Now it was Feddler's time to think.

"I..." the Imp stammered, taking a moment to sort Shawn's thoughts out. It was a long moment. A strange feeling buzzed through Shawn's mind. Like Feddler was weighing the possibilities. Tugging at those strands and threads. Touching the knots that he had spoken of. Pulling at the fabrics and the webs of lies interspersed with truth and vice versa.

"No." He finally answered.

"I cannot. I cannot do it because in the end, I do not know you. Not really. I came to destroy you. I was sent to destroy you. When you played the numbers game. And then I was destroyed and placed in you. Now I am with you. I am not saying it will not work one day. But during this time, I have not really learned of you."

"Other than that you are liar. And that Bradford is out to destroy us."

The statement was made without judgement. And Shawn knew that if the words stung, then the Imp was stating them without the malice intention of doing so. And if they didn't sting Shawn, the same fact could be applied. Shawn knew this because Feddler offered to Shawn the chance to view the Imp's own mind to show Shawn a glimpse into Feddler's own deeds.

Just a taste.

Shawn could tell the gesture was not without risk. just viewing the Imp's mind might cause Shawn harm. Being both a demon and an imp, it was clear that Feddler had been involved in some dark work.

OOC: Shawn decides if he will take a glimpse into Feddler's own mind, or not

It was kinda weird how Shawn was slowly getting used to hearing monologues or even another set of emotions doing things in his head, but that was what was happening. Oh, the numbers game, I had forgotten...maybe that'll be my backup plan... After a moment or two to weigh the possibilities, Shawn mentally accepted the Feddler's invitation to see his memories. Even if they were bad things, he trusted in Feddler's self-interest; the demon wouldn't want to hurt him, since it'd make confronting Bradford even more risky. And maybe if he experienced some of what Feddler did, that'd help him understand the weird dark magic he was involved in.

There was no response to Shawn's thoughts. But Shawn could equally tell that Feddler had drifted to the side. Or receded into the back of his head with a light 'fluff' sound. It was like the sound of something hitting a pillow.

The forest had gone dark. And there was a smell about that Shawn hadn't noticed before. Sweetness, was it? Tang. Like pennies.

Images began to surface the way they do when kids are day dreaming. But instead of a concentrating, whimsical feeling, there was a sinking, low feeling. The kind of feeling that a kid gets when he's about to be caught doing something really really bad by his parents.

Then an image began to appear. Less of an image and more of a thought. Because Shawn was still in the forest. The thought floated to the surface like a bloated bubble in Shawn's mind. It popped and Shawn began to understand, with growing clarity, the very nature of the thought.

A black crow sat on a stump, its clawed feet splayed, nails curled over the side as its beak jabbed, jabbed at something wet and moist, pulling back a bit of flesh as its head quickly turned to one side.

Shawn kept walking even as he experienced the thought - part of it was knowing time was of the essence, but the other was thinking that if maybe things got too scary, he could concentrate on the real world that was in front of him.

Shawn could sense for a brief moment Feddler's own feelings as the image of the crow faded against a backdrop of blackness. Feddler's condition could be summed up in a drop of blood. Show Feddler a teaspoon of blood and it would reveal to him the ineffable nature of the cosmos, naked and squirming. Squirming. And Feddler felt it was funny how the truth always seems to do that when you shine a light on it.

Blackness.

That was all that Shawn saw now.

A few seconds later another image was coming out from the black void. Before it came into focus, Shawn's ear was split by a killing sound, crackling like a busted radio speaker and ringing with good old tinnitus. The sensation was that of an auger boring through membrane and meat. Shawn's back and left knee ached. The image faded back into the darkness.

The long-healed slash that Shawn had suffered at one time running away from the Clowns. Was it his back? Something burned with the fury of a fresh wound. And Shawn felt the seam from where he had cut his forearm just a few moments ago. The skin was pulling apart, the wound a weeping invitation as it bloomed. All those forgotten or ignored wounds blooming in a chorus of ghostly pain, reminders of longstanding debts, reminders that a boy can’t always outrun provenance. Sometimes it outruns him.

Behind the blackness, in what Shawn thought might have been the forest he may have still been in, for Shawn could no longer see anything but blackness....

A hunting horn sounded far out there in the darkness beyond the humps and swales and tree drumlins that went on basically forever, past the vast foliage that had swallowed the neighborhood homes.

Not simply a horn, but one that could easily be imagined as the hollowed relic from a giant, perverted ram with blood-specked foam lathering its muzzle and hellfire beaming from its eyes. A ram that crunched the bones of Saxons for breakfast and brandished a cock the girth of a wagon axle; the kind of brute that tribes sacrificed babies to when crops were bad and mated unfortunate maidens to when the chief needed some special juju on the eve of a war. Its horn was the sort of artifact that stood on end in a petrified coil and would require a brawny Viking raider to lift. Or a demon.

The horn sounded the call of a demon-song.

And Shawn fell into that call, now completely ensconced in the imagery and sensation of hot blood and darkness. And inner collapse into the recesses of Feddler's mind and Shawn's own. An exploration that was as deep and profound as anything he had ever experienced. Only this time, it was not only his own experience.

It was also Feddler's experience.

Shawn tried to keep up with the imagery of blood, of wounds, of truth. It left him feeling vulnerable and exposed, unsure of who or what was coming next. He braced himself for an insight into Feddler's nature, or at least his experience.

There was a deep welling in Shawn's stomach that seemed to indicate that something was about to happen. A feeling in the pit of his bowels. Shawn knew that he was close to understanding something that Feddler wanted him to know. Something that might bring them just a step closer. Perhaps something that would make Shawn understand Feddler and Feddler understand Shawn. Maybe it would be enough to do something with at some point.

But before Shawn could continue, he felt that there might be a price to be paid for such knowledge.

OOC: Shawn chooses one of the following -

1) Shawn decides not to try to learn about Feddler

Or

2) Shawn decides to learn about Feddler. Shawn gains 'Trigger' Self-Destruction — Lying. Every time Shawn lies, he does something small to hurt himself.

Characters with the Self-Destruction trigger find themselves overwhelmed with the desire to cause harm to themselves whenever their trigger is activated. This can manifest as cutting, punching or hitting, burning, picking at wounds or sutures, self-biting, poking or stabbing, or ingesting harmful items or substances. It should be noted that this trigger is not suicidal in nature

Shawn wanted to learn more about the imp that had taken residence inside of him...but he couldn't. The price seemed too dangerous, too high, and he was afraid. Maybe he would be able to do it later, when they were out of immediate danger, but right now he couldn't handle it.

There was a burning sensation. But it was not the open wound that Shawn had felt in his arm. Instead, it wast the burning of Feddler's resentment. This was the feeling that Shawn felt.

And Feddler had no reason to hide it.

It was a feeling of betrayal. It was a feeling of rejection. It was the look that Ralph had when Bobby used to tell him that he couldn't include him in his things. Or when Bobby would intentionally exclude Ralph on account of him being to little. It was that look in Ralph's face. The look of being rejected.

This time though, it wasn't Ralph's feelings that had been rejected. It was Feddler's feelings. It was his invitation to Shawn. And, as a consequence, it was the sensation that Feddler was both hurt and dissapointed.

But that feeling quickly was replaced with anger. Anger at Shawn for the rejection. A feeling that Feddler had, in fact, tried to show Shawn the way. The way towards closeness between them. A feeling that Feddler had tried to resolve something at Shawn's request. And that Shawn had rejected that after asking for it.

Justified or not, this was the feeling Feddler felt.

And so Feddler screamed "Don't ask me for anything!! You fool! I hope Bobby and Ralph die!" And then Shawn heard the 'fluff' of the lantern being blown out.

Everything inside went dark. All communication with Feddler had silenced.

Shawn immediately regretted his decision as he felt Feddler’s rejection - he hadn’t realized how personally the imp would take it. And feeling that rejection, feeling how it hurt Feddler...it was exactly the kind of feeling he’d always tried to avoid. That’s why he always acted so nice and agreeable, why he always lied and told people what they wanted to hear. He’d disappointed Feddler, and he hated knowing that. I’m sorry. He wanted to apologize, but the silence in his head told him that wasn’t enough. All he could do was hope Feddler tuned back in and could see how much he regretted turning him down.

With nothing else to do, he trudged on back home.

OOC: Shawn Joins Thread

Shawn: The Day Before School And Something Is Wrong