"Nothing." Shawn's Mom said, sitting on one of the double beds in a standard room at the Super 8 motel.

It had been hours since Shawn's mom picked him up at Junior's house, whereby she drove out of the city. Out of L.A. and towards some unknown suburb of the city that Shawn had never seen before. Or maybe it was still L.A. It was hard to tell because the city seemed to stretch onward and onward in twisting and winding highways. The whole time, Shawn's Mom kept saying that it was 'nothing' and that she just wanted to take Shawn out of town because 'Can't I spend some time with my son?'

Wherever they were, it didn't seem like the best neighborhood or the best hotel. The place didn't look clean for one. The carpet was a worn, burgundy red and the bed sheets had a sweaty smell like they hadn't been changed.

"It's nothing." Shawn's Mom said. "Everything is fine. I just wanted you to get some sleep before your big day tomorrow." She said, not explaining what the big day was. But then again, summer was over, and school was set to begin.

Shawn was feeling antsy, being pulled out of the neighbourhood when things were their most critical. But he hid it, because he knew objecting wouldn't help with Mom. He had to play along for now and hope he had an opportunity to fix things...somehow. "Is Dad going to come visit us?"

"Oh honey." Mom said with syrupy falseness. She placed a hand on Shawn's own hand. Her hand was cold to the touch.

"I know you're concerned about your father. But he's out looking for a job right now. We're just going to stay here for a while. Just a few weeks at most." Mom said, indicating that, despite Shawn's inner misgivings about having been drawn out so quickly and abruptly, there were no plans to return to the neighborhood.

It was almost unavoidable the thoughts that began to swirl invasive-like in Shawn's mind. Maybe it was the echoes of the space that once held Feddler, even though the Imp was silent. Thoughts of what might happen to Ralph and Bobby at the hands of Bradford and Mr. Clayton. Of Michael and the dead body that lay in the woods. Of the missing children that Shawn had known that were now no longer seen in the neighborhood. Of the growing chaos that seemed to be consuming the neighborhood.

"Oh." Shawn wasn't sure how long he had been expecting to be in this hotel, but he'd been thinking a day or two at most. A few weeks sounded absurd, though obviously he didn't show any of that in his expression or voice. "What about school?"

"Taken care of." Mom said with waving dismissal of his question, a careless movement of her left hand. It was if school was no bother to her compared to what they were doing here, whatever that was.

Mom stared at Shawn with an expectant look for a few seconds. Then, when Shawn didn't say anything, she said. "You don't remember? The Movie?"

OOC: link to a message in this game

Message # 6

Perhaps it was all of the trauma of what had been going on. Or perhaps Mom had never filled in the details of Shawn getting a movie part. Or perhaps she did and Shawn did not remember because it was summer time. All of these could be explanations for why Shawn suddenly found himself her with what seemed like little warning.

Shawn did remember the movie, but it all seemed a little off to him. This was all really fast - he’d only had the audition yesterday. And there was Junior’s mom’s conversation on the phone, which from the end he’d heard didn’t sound like this was what she’d been talking about. It felt like there was something deeper going on here. Maybe he was being too paranoid, but things kept getting in the way every time he tried to do something about Bradford... Of course, he wasn’t going to share that with his Mom. “Oh, was that today? They must’ve really liked me, ‘cause usually it takes longer.”

"Longer?" Mom said in a surprised tone. "Honey we have to jump on every chance that we can get to make you the star that you know that your are supposed to be." Mom sighed and put her hand on Shawn's knee.

"Look honey, this is really important. Not for me. For you. You're destined to be a star Shawn. I know you are. I'm proud of you. I'm proud that you keep going to these auditions. And so what if the last movie wasn't the biggest blockbuster hit that it could have been. Did you give up? Did you let things go and get away from you?"

"No, you didn't. You kept going. You got back up and you auditioned. You did what you wanted. Even now, you're putting yourself among others. And that's what's important. And that's why I'm proud of you. I'm proud of you because you're willing to stand up and make yourself more different above the crowd."

Despite the pressure Shawn was under and the danger he knew he was in, he still wanted his Mom's approval, and he practically preened under her praise. "Thanks Mom - I couldn't have done it without you helping me!" He knew he couldn't be too selfish about it, though. He had to keep Mom happy as well.

The walls of the hotel were cheap and Shawn could hear people talking from both upstairs and from the right wall near a crooked painting of a lake that had faded from sunlight and was hanging.

Then Shawn heard a car door slam from outside in the parking lot.

"I'm so relieved honey! So relieved. I know that you know that I'm looking out for you. Because I love you honey. I really do. You have to know that I'm your biggest fan. You only need one person to stand behind you in your life. And if you have that one person, just that one person behind you, you can take on the world."

Shawn was feeling on edge, and listened carefully in case that slamming car door or the conversations in the other room might somehow be related to the situation he found himself in. "I'll do my best to make you proud!"

Shawn finished saying that to Mom. And then suddenly he heard the sound of footsteps outside of the door. There was a 'crack' sound and a swift and sudden

BANG!

The door to the hotel room shot open so loudly and with such force that it slammed against the interior wall and caused the crooked picture on the far side of the room to fall to the floor. The door then started to shut again, swing back after banging against the wall, before being pushed open by an eager hand.

A figure of a man entered the room.

Shawn started as the door flew open and he turned, trying to see who it was. He readied himself to roll off the bed onto the floor for a little bit of cover.

The figure took two steps into the room and Shawn saw that it was...

Dad.

"What is going on here!!!!!!?" He yelled, more of an accusation than a question. Like he really knew what was going on and his outburst was more of a validation of a question that had been answered.

His hands were balled up into fists, the knuckles white from squeezing so hard, anger threatening to boil over at any moment.

Shawn breathed out a sigh of relief that it wasn't some terrible monster and broke into a smile. "Hi Dad!"

"Bob, you know why I had to take him." Mom said, standing up from where she was sitting at the edge of the bed and holding her hands up in surrender, palms shown.

"Kids are disappearing in the neighborhood. And one of them was found dead today." Mom explained.

"Bullshit!" Dad shouted, taking a few more steps into the room.

"I told you I don't want him doing this shit anymore!" Dad screamed. "Tomorrow, he'll be at school." He finished, coldly, as if that was the end of the conversation.

"Tomorrow, he'll be here." Mom said calmly. "Until it is safe in the neighborhood." she said.

"Or until you can get him to be your fucking...fucking...movie puppet!" He shouted. "You and I both know why you took him here without telling. WITH OUT TELLING ME!" Dad shouted, flecks of spit coming out from his mouth.

"It has nothing to do with kids in the neighborhood! It has everything do do with you wanting him in movies!!" Dad yelled.

Shawn was not ready to be in between his parents when they were fighting like this. Quietly (though the way Dad was shouting, noise wasn't much of an issue), he retreated towards the hotel bathroom...

"Shawn! Go to the car!" Dad yelled, spotting Shawn's movement and ordering him to leave the hotel room.

Shawn froze in place, practically wilting under being yelled at. But he also knew Dad didn't like it when he seemed afraid or wimpy, so instead of showing it, he straightened up and instead headed towards the hotel room door.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:55, Mon 03 June 2019.

"Don't you dare leave Mr.!" Mom yelled at Shawn. "Get back here and sit on the bed!" She yelled at Shawn, then turning her head stared at Dad with an icy glare.

Shawn froze in place, now caught directly in between Mom and Dad. He didn't know what to do - usually he avoided their fights or redirected their attention or something, but they were openly yelling at each other over him now... He started taking deep breaths, trying not to panic, trying to remain calm as he stood in the middle of the hotel room, trapped between two opposing forces whose disdain he wanted to avoid...

"He's NOT going to be in the movies anymore. I told you." Dad growled.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 21:53, Tue 04 June 2019.

Shawn looked back and forth between his parents, trying to get a sense of who looked like they might win this argument, or even if either of them might win the argument.

Everything was up in the air. There was no precedent to this situation. Shawn had known for some time that there were problems between Mom and Dad. These kinds of discussions had simmered along and then increased when Dad lost his job. But now things had boiled over.

There was no way to know who would win this argument. But Mom suddenly struck again, demanding Shawn's attention.

"SHAWN! Listen to your mother. Sit down on this bed. THIS INSTANT!"

Shawn was pressed between two equally powerful forces, and worse, he was sure a stalemate would make both sides angry. Ultimately, what broke the tie was his larger responsibilities. He couldn't just stay here in the hotel, he had stuff to do back home. "I want to go home." He said it really quietly, like if no one could hear it, he could just go home and no one would be mad.

"Then get in the goddamn car!" Dad snapped at Shawn, finger jabbing out towards the open door which was tilted towards the side of the wall, hanging on by one hinge.

"Don't you leave me Shawn!!!" Mom yelled, a hint of hurt in her voice. "Don't you leave me! I believe in you Shawn." Mom cried out. "I believe you're a star. Don't abandon your mother!"

Shawn didn't want to hurt his Mom. He gave her a sad look. "I like doing the movies, Mom. I just don't want you guys to fight..." He walked toward the door, not wanting to hear any more of what they'd say to one another. He found himself wishing Feddler were here.

Dad smiled at Mom with savage glee like he had 'won' the fight.

"Good boy Shawn." Dad said, though the comment didn't sound like it was directed at Shawn, but rather, at Mom.

Shawn just picked up the pace, wanting to be out of ear and eye shot before either of them said something really hurtful. Either directed at him or the other parent.

Shawn was outside. The air was stuff and hot outside.  A homeless man was rummaging through a dumpster in the parking lot next to an old, white Buick.

Mom was not going to give up easily. She followed Shawn into the parking lot.

"Don't you walk away from me Mr!" She yelled at Shawn. "You get back in here this instant!" She screamed, even though she was only a few feet away from Shawn.

And then, she turned back to face Dad who was also yelling at her. He had joined the fray the argument now flowing into the parking lot where anyone and everyone could hear and see.

"You think you're going to take my son away from me? FROM ME!!?" Mom screamed at him. "You a sorry excuse for a husband. You think I want THIS!? Maybe if you could keep a job then we wouldn't be out here right now!!!!!!!"

Shawn practically ran to the car, covering his ears and somehow managing not to visibly cry. He got into the backseat, trying to curl up and remain unnoticed.

Dad's anger propelled him and he stood right up to Mom, rushing up to her with his hands firmly clenched, arms by his side. By all looks of it, it appeared to Shawn that Dad might be on the verge of hitting Mom or striking her some way. His eyes bulged with rage. His breath came out in deep gasps as he yelled.

"YOU STUPID BITCH!" 


Shawn ran to the car. By the time he shut the door he could barely hear the argument, the words fading into the background. All he heard was Mom screaming.

Shawn couldn't bring himself to look over at his Mom, he just kept his head down, top pressed against the back of the seat in front of him. He knew Feddler had walled himself off from him, and he found himself hoping that meant the imp hadn't seen any of this.

The Imp was not saying or betraying any of his feelings if he was even listening. A few moments later Shawn heard the car door open, the shuffle of clothing as Dad settled into the driver's seat. The car was put into gear, and Shawn felt a slight jolt as it lurched forward.

Dad broke the silence after a few minutes. "Come up here and sit in the front seat. Buckle Up." He said the words not without some softness to them. It was as if Dad had perhaps recognized that what Shawn...what Dad...what all of them had just experienced was indeed extraordinary.

Shawn was breathing deeply, his go to method to avoid crying. He thought he understood that his Dad wanted him to be tougher, and that meant no tears. After taking a quiet moment to consider whether this was some sort of trick or test, he uncurled himself and slipped up into the front seat, buckling up automatically. He didn't say anything yet - he wasn't sure what he could say right now anyway.

They didn't speak for a while. Dad's hands were on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed to the road. His lips were a thin line.

"You're not gonna be an actor anymore." he stated. "Acting is pretending. And you can't grow up doing make-believe. You need to be tough in this world. No son of mine is going to grow up like a fool."

Shawn stayed silent for the time being - it didn't sound like his Dad was waiting on a response anyway. He felt a little surprised at how mixed he felt about leaving acting; it made him feel miserable a lot of the time, sure, but it was the obligation, the pressure that made his stomach churn. He didn't know if he wanted to leave it behind forever...

It was a long while before Dad spoke again. By the time the got into a familiar area, the sun was setting. The car turned into the neighborhood and Dad cleared his throat.

"Sometimes adults argue." He stated. It sounded like he was trying to explain things to Shawn, to give him, his son, an explanation that might suffice for the argument with Mom. But that's all the explanation Dad gave, delivered in a dour, cynical tone.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Composure. Any success means Shawn notices something

OOC: 23:46, 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 5,10(+5),4,1. Wits + Composure.

Shawn looked at the steering wheel where Dad's hands were, gripping the wheel tight. Dad's right hand had three swollen knuckles. Freshly swollen, Shawn could see. A red and purple bruise was beginning to blossom over the hand. The middle knuckle was slightly split.

Shawn turns slightly to watch the road, so his Dad doesn't notice him noticing the swollen knuckles. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions - his Dad had practically broken down the door, and he'd probably been frustrated enough to punch a wall or something, right? "Is Mom going to be all right? After all the yelling?" He avoiding any mentions of 'fighting' or 'hitting' or anything like that, and he kept his eyes on the road, away from Dad's hand. The last thing he wanted was for his Dad to think he was being accusatory.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:59, Wed 12 June 2019.

"You mother will be fine." Dad said in an emotionless tone.

Despite the dimming sunlight, the neighborhood was awash in light. Blue and red lights blinked everywhere down the main street of the neighborhood and there were several police cars. There was a gathering of people, some talking loudly other murmuring. Across the road, there was a yellow police 'Do Not Cross' tape blocking off the path towards Shawn's house.

"Dammit!" Dad yelled and hit the steering wheel with one open palm. He then winced. It was the hand with the swollen knuckles. "I wanted to get back before you saw this." He commented, but the comment appeared to be directed mostly to himself.

Shawn cranes his neck to get a better view. He was trying to see where the police cars had congregated and tell if this was bad news or good news. Maybe they'd found another body, maybe they'd arrested Bradford? He had a feeling the former was more likely than the latter.

Shawn craned his neck, and glimpsed at the ambulance. There was a crowd around it. One of the EMT's said 'over here' as they dragged wheeled gurney to an area that Shawn couldn't see because of the large crowd of people.

Then they brought out the body of a kid and put it on the gurney. The boy on the stretcher was lifeless. Lifeless. His brown hair was scattered in multiple places, stained with dried blood; crimson. His brown eyes were wide open, but irises held a sudden sadness. The boy's clothes, a blue shirt and some cut off jeans, were bloody. His body was slumped over, half-sitting, half-laying on the gurney until the workers forced it gently down.

Then Shawn could recognize the boy's face.

In life Bobby had a ready smile and knowing eyes. In death he looked ghostly pale, his lips already bluish. Though his eyes were closed he didn't have the appearance of sleep. Instead, it looked like Bobby had suffered a violent death.

"Jesus Christ!" Dad said in shock at seeing Bobby's face. Or maybe that was just Shawn thinking for a second that Dad remembered Bobby. It might have been just Dad's reaction to seeing a dead kid in the neighborhood.

Shawn felt something inside of him break. He should've felt sadness or anger or something, but it was like that part of him had shut down completely. He had something important to do now, and feeling and mourning could wait until his tasks were done.

He had to kill Bradford. He had to take Mr. Clayton. And if the puppet couldn't tell him some way to give Bobby back, he was going to feed Mr. Clayton into a woodchipper. And when those were done, then he could worry about how he was going to feel.

These thoughts circled around in Shawn's head like a persistent swarm.

"This is unbelievable." Dad said in a hushed, whispered tone as he parked the car down the street a look of shock and dismay on his face. The scene unfolding in the neighborhood, with the crowd of familiar neighbors and the grisly sight of Bobby's body had leaked all of the anger out of the man. Now he sat in the driver's seat with eyes as wide as someone who was permanently surprised and somewhat saddened.

Shawn and Dad got out of the car and then made their way towards the crowd in the direction of Shawn's house.

"Don't look over there." Dad advised to Shawn as they got close to the crowd, angling towards Shawn's house the whole time. It was if Dad was trying to tell himself not to look more than he was advising Shawn.

Blue and white lights from the police cars washed over the neighborhood. Blinking red lights from the ambulance stung Shawn's eyes leaving brilliant gleam that Shawn could see even when he blinked.

The crowd was murmuring. Talking among each other like ants in colony, all congregating in the same area but whose movements and conversations were not distinguishable.

"I just want to take a nap..." Shawn was vaguely surprised to find that he didn't really care about his dad's approval. He looked away from the crowd as they walked, but he was only doing it because an argument would take too much time. He stole the occasional glance toward the crowd, trying to see if there were any familiar faces among them, or if the adults had kept their kids inside. If so, he could probably meet up with them when their parents were busy outside.

As they walked, he gathered up his thoughts into a message to Feddler - there was no emotional appeal or anything but a flat affect and a few words - and fired it across the subconscious gap between them like an arrow. Bobby is dead because you were sulking. It was a cruel thing to say, and Shawn didn't actually believe it. But it might provoke the imp to help, and even if not, whatever dark gods seemed to be watching him seemed to want him to be mean, and he knew he was going to need their 'blessing'.

Shawn's Dad said something about going inside and 'staying inside.' He opened the door to the house, the murmur of the crowd in the middle of the street somewhat fading into the background. It was all adults so far as Shawn could see and most of the children had been kept inside.

However, Shawn did spot Junior moving around on his bicycle. Also, Penelope was wandering through the crowd on the periphery of the adults, clearly not being watched by parent nor guardian. She put herself on her tippy toes and jumped once or twice, trying to get a glimpse of the scene.

Inside Shawn's head, her felt the familiar rustlings of Feddler. The Imp was stirring. It was like someone was on the verge of waking up, but might fall back into sleep. Shawn had seen that happen before. Like when Dad used to work all of the time and Mom would try to shake him and wake him up. Sometimes Dad was move about and make a small groaning noise before falling back asleep.

Shawn went straight to his room and shut the door, saying something vague about sleeping for a bit on his way in. He checked out his window, just in case, then closed the curtains. As he did, he sent another thought to Feddler, cold and sharp like a splash of water. Bobby's dead, we need to kill Bradford.

More stirring inside of Shawn's brain. A wiggling, wormy feeling like Feddler was uncurling and uncoiling from his hibernation inside of Shawn's brain, Shawn's mind. A spirit filling a glass. Shawn could feel a cold chill run down his spine as Feddler made its own presence known in Shawn's body.

"I told you so." Feddler wheedled in a high, reedy voice, as he was now woken. "I told you this would happen." He rebuked, his tone one of a child on the playground whose guess had been right but who had been dismissed time and time again by other children.

"This is your fault." The Imp cried out, as if truly wounded by the news. It's voice cracked. "If you hadn't rejected me. If you had listened to me and trusted me and gave to me.....then Bobby would still be alive."

"Look." Feddler pointed, directing Shawn's attention to the EMTs. They now had Bobby--or rather Bobby's body--in a black canvass bag on the gurney. One man steadied the bag with blue, latex gloves carefully, while the other man began to zipper the bag closed. Up, up went the zipper, closing over Bobby's waist and then his torso. Bobby's head was bloodied and drooped on one side in the direction of the man. Even in death he had a pained look on his face. The zipper closed and Bobby was gone, as if swallowed by that great, big, black bag. The men began to wheel the gurney and the black bag into the back of the ambulance.

If you hadn't kept me in the woods all night, none of this would've happened either. It doesn't matter, we've got work to do. Shawn wasn't even sparing a moment to think about whose fault it might be. That was energy he could be using to kill Bradford. He glanced at the EMTs, and for a moment his resolve wavered when he saw Bobby's pained face. But then he turned away from the windows and headed to the closet. He crawled into the back, looking for his next potential weapon to use; the Numbers Game. Could anything I can win from the Numbers Game help me kill Bradford?

It felt like Feddler was about to launch a full retort and once again blame Shawn. Then the feeling died. For a while the Imp said nothing. The car door on the back of the ambulance closed.

"You could use the Numbers Game. It would probably be unpredictable. You have not put any time into it. Any time into understanding it. It would be like taking a test without studying." Feddler explained.

"Whatever you are planning or whatever you were planning, you better...."

There was a sudden sound. An alarming

Riiiiing!!!

Riiiiing!!!

Riiiiing!!!

The telephone was ringing. The house phone. It rang out with an angry impatient tone. For some reason, Dad was not picking the phone up.

Do you know how to use it? You can take a test without studying if someone's giving the answers. Shawn almost jumped when the phone started ringing, but clamped down on the response. When it kept going, he quietly exited the room to see what was going on. Had Dad left? Or was something stranger going on?

Shawn left his room passing through the hallway and the various corridors of the house. The phone continued to ring. Shawn headed downstairs and he could see through one of the windows near the front door.

Outside, there was still a large gathering of people and the ambulance was still sitting still. Out in the front yard Dad was talking to Officer Dawson. A smaller crowd of nervous parents were surrounding the conversation, asking their own questions, even though Shawn couldn't hear what they were saying.


Riiiiing!!!

Riiiiing!!!

Riiiiing!!!

The phone continued to sound.

"It does not work that way." Feddler explained with a scoff that suggested Shawn didn't know what he was talking about. "The Numbers Game is not some mechanical device. Only someone with a high level of discretion and knowledge of their own true evil would know how to approach it and what to do. Perhaps if we had spent more time I could help you if you had let me in like I offered. At least then we would have spent some time looking within ourselves to find a deeper answer."

"But I do not know who you are. We have not spent any time really working to get to know each other. So any help I could offer would be of...unpredictable value. It could actually have the opposite of what you intend."

Shawn was splitting his attention between Feddler and the situation, but he decided to take a slight chance. One second, I need to find out who this is. He had a paranoid suspicion it would be Bradford trying to taunt him or something worse. He picked up the handset and held it to his ear. He didn't say a word - he even put his hand over the receiver so no one could hear him breathe.

Shawn heard a rustling sound on the other line. There was a fizzing full of static like an old television set that's lost the signal.

Then, through the static. A whispering voice. It was so low Shawn could barely hear it:

"Ralph is next."

Shawn just kept quiet, waiting to hear if the voice (who he assumed was Bradford) had anything else to say. He certainly didn't plan on replying to anything it said, unless he thought he could trick it into revealing more information.

"Ralph is next."  The voice said again, this time with more urgency.

Shawn still kept silent, wanting to see if the urgency turned into more information or even a clue about who might be speaking.

As he waited, he sent Feddler a brief message. When we're done here, can we try again? The me letting you in thing. He didn't think he'd flinch away this time - seeing what happened to Bobby had made sure of that.

This time, Shawn's patience paid off. The voice spoke with more clarity giving away its identify and intentions.

"Are you there?" The voice whispered through the static. "Are you there?" it asked again. "It's me, Bradford. Are you there Shawn?"

"Sorry about killing Bobby. Anyway, Ralph is next. I'm looking forward to it tonight." Bradford said over the phone, his voice a mix of initial regret and then optimism as he spoke the second sentence, like a kid who just got invited to a birthday party.

"We can try." Feddler cut in, answering Shawn's question. "But I though that you had your own idea. Isn't that why you rejected me." He asked, trying to work out the confusion of memories. Shawn heard a filing cabinet open and close in his brain, the shuffling and crackling of papers as Feddler searched.

Shawn simply hung up, not wanting to give too much away to Bradford by responding. He headed back to his room, going to the window to see if he could see Ralph outside. I thought I could do it without your help. I was wrong. My plan's not good enough, I need more power. That was true, but it was only part of it. Shawn had been scared of what the consequences of truly sharing minds with Feddler might be, what it could do to his life. But now he was no longer thinking about the future beyond Bradford and Mr. Clayton. It just didn't matter. I know last time we tried it took hours...we don't have that time. If I cooperate, it'll be shorter, right?

"It could very well be that it works. Or not. You are a liar. So it is hard to untangle the web you have woven, even in here. Will you do it? I have been placed in your mind. Will you glimpse into mine?"


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

Shawn closed the blinds and lay down on his bed like he was getting ready to sleep. All right, no more lies between us. You'll know me, and I'll know you. He tried to open his mind, like he had the previous night...

There was no response to Shawn's thoughts. But Shawn could equally tell that Feddler had receded into the back of his head.

With the blinds closed, room had acquired a certain darkness. And there was a smell about that Shawn hadn't noticed before. Sweetness, 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 caught by a bully on the playground.

Then an image began to appear. Less of an image and more of a thought. Because Shawn was laying down on the bed, the thought floated to the surface like a summer insect drawn to a light in the ceiling of Shawn's mind. Shawn began to understand, with growing clarity, the very nature of the thought.

The ceiling fan was off above him. But a large insect could be seen on one of it's blades. Its insecticide appendages clawed to the fan, jagged legs tucked over the side like it was holding on to the fan. It was a long, black insect. It's elongated head had a protruding tusk that was thin, narrow and sharp. At the very end of the barb, it glistening something wet and moist.

As he started to understand the nature of thought, Shawn tried to relax, tried to let himself just watch. He was trying to observe, and he couldn't clutter that up with too many of his own thoughts. He laid there and tried to observe what his mind and Feddler were trying to show him.

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. Though he had been brought to the brink of such a feeling before, last time he did not cross it.

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

This time, when Shawn felt the feeling, he didn't try to pull back. Instead, he set aside his inhibitions, his worries about what this knowledge might do to him. The future didn't really matter anymore, just the job in front of him. And he needed to understand Feddler to better make that happen.

"Yes" Feddler said, his impish voice giddy with excitement at the prospect of being accepted. His voice had changed somehow. Instead of being high-pitched and sharp it was....high pitched and sharp. The change couldn't be described in tone nor in its

OOC: Shawn gain's 'Trigger' Self-Destruction — Lying. Every time Shawn lies, he does something small to hurt himself.

Shawn didn't flinch away. Instead, he allowed Feddler's mind to flow through his, and his mind to flow through Feddler's.

He was past the point of shame or equivocation, at least with Feddler. Though he hadn't developed the self-awareness to see it himself, all of his bad behaviour and evil urges were laid out for the imp to see. The endless sense of vulnerability, the belief that if he didn't please the people he cared about, if he ever gave them an excuse, they would abandon him. Friends, family, parents...it was all conditional. That fear developed into a need for control, to build some sort of stability.

The acting was part of it, at least to begin with. It helped him feel less vulnerable - understanding an audience, learning how to get the reaction he wanted out of them - he could control their responses, make them safe. But that control had turned into a prison, another set of people to please, another way he was vulnerable. Child actors were replaceable, after all, and he knew the moment he became more inconvenient to keep than to replace, he'd be switched out for another kid who could smile on cue.

It was even what had taken him to the Circus. Joining Cherrywinks or the Order...even at the time part of him had thought it wouldn't be that much safer than opposing them. But it gave him a structure, an authority to please. It gave him a clear goal, which made him feel less vulnerable, let him feel like he had a little bit of control of his own destiny.

And now, with all the structures falling apart around him - the Circus, the Order, his acting, even his parents - he was flailing, trying to assert control over what he could, as directly as possible. His plan with the cars, Michael, and Junior, using the Numbers Game, all of it was a symptom of his need to control, to keep himself from feeling so vulnerable...but Shawn couldn't see that. He just had a plan, and a goal, and he was going to do whatever it took...

These thoughts went through Shawn's subconscious and Shawn could feel the room begin turn a shade darker. There was a tingling feeling in the tips of his fingers. A spasm worked its way up the side of his face. He felt his eyelids begin to flutter, a desire to close his eyes like they wanted to roll up until the whites were exposed.

But there was something else too.

A hunting horn sounded far out there in parking lot and amid the sirens of the ambulance and the talking neighbors outside.

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 similar thing to what Shawn had heard before, the last time that Feddler brought him to the brink. 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 at the same time could feel that insect on the fan had landed on the bed next to him. He didn't have to look he knew. It was somewhere down near his legs. It was black and it had an elongated, tubular proboscis like the sucking organ of a butterfly.

Shawn could feel the barriers between himself and Feddler break down. He tried to drink it in as much as he could, try to better understand where Feddler was coming from. He listened carefully to the demon-song...

Shawn felt the insect scurry up his leg. Scurry..scurry... It's exoskeleton, chitinous claws scratched at Shawn's waist and then arm. Then it inserted its proboscis into Shawn's ear.

Somewhere outside, Shawn heard one of the neighbor's crying. There were muffled voices trying to console or give comfort. The sirens of the ambulance faded into the distance.

Shawn was made aware in that moment that Feddler was much, much more than just an imp. A growing feeling of emptiness could be felt in Shawn's stomach. The kind of emptiness that a kid feels when he's about to get in big trouble with an adult. On this time instead of just a sinking feeling, it was a like a ball in the pit of his stomach that spread out throughout his body, into his toes and finger tips. Shawn heard his own heart beat pick up.

Images of Feddler standing over a dead body flickered through Shawn's mind. The body lay in a forest and was covered in leaves and mud. The imp sat on his haunches to turn the body over and look at the kid's face. Feddler reached with one devil hand at the kid's shoulder and rolled the body over. The face was....

"Are you awake?" Feddler asked Shawn, the vision suddenly breaking off.


OOC: Shawn adds three dots to Weapon's skill

Shawn breathed in and out slowly, taking stock of where he was and what he was doing. He was in his bed, he was safe, more or less. I'm awake...you sound different. Did it work?

Silence.

For a moment Feddler didn't answer. Outside, the crying had stopped. The lights from the ambulance were long gone and any sense that there had been a crowd was now completely gone. A car passed by down the street casting its headlights into Shawn's room for a brief moment before they faded away.

Silence.

Then Feddler spoke. "I do not know. It depends on what we do next. We can always go back and try your plan. It is not something that I would like. But this is also your choice. The two of us working together is better than us working against each other. That is what I have learned. That is why I stopped trying to destroy you even though that was my purpose."

"Did you see the visions? They are glimpses into me. Some things can only been seen not spoken."

"Should we continue?" Feddler asked. It was both a question and an invitation. A question to see if Shawn really did want to accept Feddler and an invitation to follow his lead in dealing with the Bradford.

I saw the visions...I think I understand you better now. Did you see me? Shawn glanced out the window. It was probably too late to visit anyone else anyway. We should keep going. You said that we could use the Numbers Game better as a team, right?

Feddler snorted in response to Shawn. "Understand me?" He asked. "I do not think so."

"It will take more than just that. It will take time too. Still, we are off to a good start. It is much better working as a team. I think we will be able to do things that both of us could not do alone. I think that we will be able to solve the situation and protect Ralph."

"We can used the Numbers Game, but I do not think we should. We do not have the time necessary. We still have much to learn about each other."

"Instead, we should strive to solve this problem. If you really want to keep going. Let's get ready to surprise Bradford tonight, before he can get to Ralph."

Shawn nodded, or at least thought about nodding so that Feddler could see it. What do you have in mind? Break into his house? Lure him somewhere else? Maybe we could poison him?

"Let me think" Feddler thought. And with that Shawn could hear the shuffling in his mind. "Head down to the kitchen."

Shawn made sure he had his various tools and tricks on him before quietly levering himself out of bed and heading down to the kitchen. He found himself pondering his own vague plans as he did - maybe it was Feddler's rummaging, or maybe just wanted to make his own contributions. Most of them involved recruiting other people, magically or otherwise; get help from the neighbourhood kids, convince a cop to shoot Bradford, that sort of thing...
This message was last edited by the player at 11:52, Wed 03 July 2019.

These plans and violent fantasies worked their way through Shawn's head as he crept downstairs. Because that's what it felt like: creeping. Dad wasn't around. Maybe he was upstairs. Or maybe he was sleeping.

Feddler brought back the memory of Dad's swollen hand after the argument with Mom.

"What do you think that was about?" Feddler asked dubiously as Shawn's eyes scanned the dark kitchen, Feddler imploring them to focus on the knives that were hanging on a rack behind the kitchen sink.

"Grab one of those." Feddler instructed. "Just in case."

I don't know...I think he might've hit her. But maybe not. It could've been the door or he got so mad he punched a wall...I hope he didn't hit her. Shawn grabbed the sharpest-looking knife on the rack, and for good measure, went into the drawer and also grabbed a much smaller paring knife, just in case. It was an odd sensation - he'd never really held a knife before, but he felt so familiar with them anyway.

"Good." Feddler remarked, feeling the grip of the unfamiliar knife in Shawn's hand. "Good."

"Now, let's make our way outside. Let's start towards Bradford's house."

Shawn heads for the exit. Is the plan just to go to his house and stab him? You taught me how to use a knife, but I don't know if that's going to be enough...

"You can feel it then?" Feddler said to Shawn, a question referring to how Shawn might know how to use a knife since the ritual they performed together.

"I'm not sure I know just what the plan is yet."

I think so? When I picked them up, it was like I'd done it before. Shawn could feel that something had changed as a result - he was trying to embrace that feeling as much as he could. If he could keep close with Feddler, he could learn more things, stuff that might help him bring down Bradford. Is there a plan? Or are you just hoping we come up with something on the way?

"There's a plan." Feddler said, and Shawn felt Feddler tighten Shawn's grip around the knife. The hot summer air pushed through Shawn's hair as he made his way outside. It was clear Feddler wanted to stab Bradford. By concentrating, Shawn could feel Feddler's rage and anger for Bradford and the fact that Bobby had died.

It wasn't a plan that Shawn had thought of. And it wasn't sophisticated. It was simple. Feddler was prodding Shawn forward. He was urging Shawn's feet to move onto Bradford's lawn. Outside, the night crickets chirped their loud chorus.

"Go around back." Feddler whispered to Shawn in a silky voice.

Shawn complied, heading around back. The plan was simple, which was good in a way - it meant Shawn had room to improvise if he had to. As they moved through the night, Shawn kept his eyes peeled for any advantages he could exploit on the way in - potential allies, potential tools, even the environment around them.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Composure +1 (Feddler and Shawn have the same goal)

OOC: 08:04, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 3 successes using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 8,9,9,5,6.  Wits + Composure +1.

As Shawn crept into Bradford's yard, he saw that the gate to the back of the yard was completely open. And, on top of that there were no cars in the driveway. It wasn't as if Shawn knew that Bradford was living with anyone anyway, or who he would be living with. Either way, the entire outside of the house gave the impression that no adults were there. If Bradford was inside, then he would be completely alone.

Shawn looked around the yard, noticing the place seemed empty of adult presences, and knowing Feddler would notice it too. Should we go inside? If he's home, we can surprise him, and if he's not, we can set a trap. Assuming Feddler didn't object, Shawn tried to head for the back door.

Feddler didn't say anything right away, but he didn't have to. Shawn somehow 'knew' that Feddler agreed with the idea of sneaking behind the back of the house and then going inside. And that knowledge seemed to jump Shawn's confidence in the bottom of his stomach as he strode towards the gate.

Pushing it open, the gate to the backyard of the house creaked open. It revealed a backyard in total decomposition: long, tall weeds sprouted out in every direction along the cobblestone path that led to the patio.  The garden was just a large, wild collection of weeds. A large hornet's nest was hanging from the corner of the roof where the rusty gutters met the spout. The barbecue, which in most homes would be used in the summer, was instead a rusted metal hunk.

"Looks like Bradford has been neglecting everything. I think its the work of Mr. Clayton." Feddler mused and he and Shawn caught the sight of the backdoor to the house.

Shawn looked around at the decaying backyard. Maybe it's Mr. Clayton...but even if he wasn't here, I don't think Bradford would know how to take care of a backyard. Under normal circumstances, he might've felt a moment of sympathy for Bradford, but instead there was just cold will to succeed.

As he approached the back door, he steeled himself. Once we're inside, this is it. If there's anything else you can do before that, make me stronger, faster, better at killing Bradford, I can pay the price.

Shawn saw the door but grabbing a hold of the handle, he could feel that it was locked.

"It's locked." Feddler announced with disappointment. There was a tone of heightened excitement in his voice, a clear response to Shawn's proclamation that he would work with Feddler to make himself stronger. And with that, there was a greater coming together of the two. Shawn could feel it. It was the rush of adrenaline that welled from within like a spring of energy and focus.

"Try to open it." Feddler prodded.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Dexterity + Larceny + 1(Working with Feddler)
This message was lightly edited by the player at 09:21, Tue 16 July 2019.

Shawn tried to open it - he didn't know anything about picking locks, so he tried to give himself over to Feddler's instincts in hopes that the imp knew more about it than he did.

OOC: Wasn't sure if the +1 from Feddler counts as a skill dot for the purposes of the untrained penalty, so I rolled it separately - ignore the second roll if it's just an untyped bonus. Edit: Not that it ended up mattering. Double edit: and it looks like I had the untrained penalty incorrect in the first place- sorry if this is confusing.

07:54, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 1 success using 1d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 8.  Dexterity + Larceny + 1 - Untrained.

07:56, Today: Shawn Cramer failed (no successes) using 3d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 1,1,3.  Untrained Penalty (Dexterity + Larceny).


This message was last edited by the player at 12:28, Tue 16 July 2019.

"Hmmmm." Feddler said as Shawn fiddled with the lock unsuccessfully. "We may need to find another way"

Shawn felt Feddler push Shawn's attention upward. Shawn could see the crescent moon amid the back drop of clouds in the sky. High up above was a window. Bradford's window. Shawn felt Feddler grip the cold knife in Shawn's hand.

"Should we climb?" '


OOC: Shawn decides whether or not he wants to try climbing

OOC: Sorry Should have been more clear. Just + 1 to the dice pool for previous roll.

Shawn looked around the house and the backyard. I think we have to - though we should check if there's a lower window.

Shawn took a look around and spotted a lower window that would lead to either a basement or the lower level of the home. The window was covered with grime and a heavy layer of green moss was growing on the sill. An orb spider had made a circular web near the base of the window where someone from the outside would have to lift to get it open.

"Good thinking." Feddler said, and Shawn felt a rush of excitement in the Imp's voice, the primitive rush of the hunt stoking the Imp's bloodlust.

Shawn grabbed a small stick and used it to clear away the web before getting down on his hands and knees and taking a closer look. He squinted through the grime to see what was on the other side, and if he didn't see anything too derailing, he experimentally tried to lift the window.

The window lifted slowly with a small creaking sound. It went about halfway up before getting halfway stuck.


OOC: Shawn may roll 'Strength' +1 (Shawn and Feddler have the same goal)  to open up the window

OOC: 08:30, 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 3,8,7. Strength' +1.

Shawn lifted the window and crept inside. Surprisingly, it didn't make any noise considering that he had to force it the rest of the way open.

Inside Bradford's house, there was a dry, moldy smell. The outside heat of the end-of-summer seemed unable to penetrate the interior of the house, and Shawn noticed a considerable drop in temperature.

"It's night time. So he must be upstairs." Feddler reasoned.

All around there were nothing but large cob webs and dusty furniture. It looked like no one lived here. Let alone a kid Shawn's age. Feddler reminded Shawn in that moment, as Shawn looked upward at the stairs leading to the second level, that Shawn had never seen Bradford's parents or any adult coming or going from this dwelling. Had never seen Bradford living with anyone.

Shawn took a careful look around the basement, looking for both dangers and anything that he could use against Bradford. He paused at the bottom of the stairs. Once we go upstairs, we could find him any moment. If there's anything you can do - more than you're already doing, I mean - to make me better at killing Bradford, this is probably our last chance.

The stairs looked like they hadn't been trespassed in years. Thick layers of grey dust and sediment collected on the wooden planks that led upstairs out of the basement. It was dark, and so therefore only the faint light of the still moon outside could illuminate the path out of the depths of Bradford's house.

"We have that trust between us?" Feddler asked with seriousness. "To make such leaps of faith?"

And what Shawn felt in that question was not the factual question itself. But rather, it was the notion that Feddler was asking Shawn to take that leap of faith in exchange for Feddler's embodiment. It was a debt that Shawn knew would have to be repaid. A dark path perhaps. Or at least one that would remain unknown until a later revelation.

OOC: Shawn chooses:

1) Shawn doesn't want Feddler's help: Shawn does not allow Feddler to imbue Shawn with more power just yet. = Nothing is gained.

2) Shawn accepts Feddler's help: Shawn gains +4 in all rolls for the remainder of this scene, including if there is a potential conflict with Bradford. = Shawn "owes" Feddler a debt which Feddler will collect at a later time. Refusal to accept Feddler's future unknown request will result in a severe setback in Shawn's relationship with Feddler, with unknown consequences.

Shawn wasn't really thinking about the future anymore - since seeing what happened to Bobby, almost all of his thoughts and plans went up to the death of Bradford and no further. So a vague debt didn't concern him as much as perhaps it should. I think we do. He opened himself up to Feddler's help.

There was a rush and Shawn felt a giddy Feddler fill his chest the way a breath of fresh air would fill someone who was drowning.

"We need to go up the stairs now." Feddler instructed. "We need to take care of this. To take care of Bradford." Feddler prodded, his voice now taking on a hypnotic and somehow soothing tone. Yet beneath the silky voice, Shawn could hear a growing sense of excitement.

"Let's go upstairs and further still. Upstairs to Bradford's room." Feddler suggested.

OOC: Shawn gains +4 Rolls for the remainder of the scene.

Shawn took a deep breath and started padding his way up the basement stairs. He went very carefully, trying not to make any noise, and kept his eyes and ears peeled for any dangers.

Shawn got up the stairs, moving silently as a mouse. With Feddler, he rounded the corner and went up the second stairs to the hallway which was again, covered in dust and cobwebs. Shawn could hear the pitter-patter of rodents and saw a rat pass by.

There was odd smell in the hallway. Like fruit that had been rotting for some time.

Out of all of the doors, only one door was ajar. Shawn crept towards it and saw that there was a sliver of light coming out of it.

Moving towards the door, he heard no sounds coming from it. The sliver of light was pale and dim. It reminded Shawn of the nightlight that Ralph used to insist was left on.

"It's probably just a night light." Feddler said to Shawn, also seizing on the memory. "With any luck, Bradford is asleep."

Shawn approached the door carefully, making sure to come from a sideways angle so that anyone looking through it from inside the room wouldn't be able to see him. He stopped by the door and listened carefully, for sounds of breathing or talking or any dangers before trying to sneak a glance inside.

Shawn didn't hear anything. But he did see. Bradford was in a sitting position and had the blanket pulled all the way up to his chin. He was staring at the door as if he was waiting for Shawn to enter. The way a frightened kid might wait for the monster under his bed to show up again.

Normally, Shawn might have felt a moment of pity, seeing what looked like a frightened Bradford holed up waiting for an intruder to kill him. But in his detached, dissociated state, all he thought about was ways he could overcome it. Running in and stabbing Bradford would be too reckless - it could be a trap, especially since he couldn't tell where Mr. Clayton was. And trying to lure Bradford out of his room would take too long and probably give his presence away.

He took a deep breath, and tried to listen to his instincts. He moved his big knife to the off-hand, and pulled out the paring knife he'd also grabbed from the kitchen. He gave himself a moment to steady himself and get used to the balance of the knife, and then in one movement he stepped into the doorway and threw the small knife at Bradford as hard as he could, aiming for the eyes. And then he ducked back behind the doorframe.

OOC: Shaw will use ranged attack, If the character’s throwing something, like a
rock, the player rolls Dexterity + Athletics

Shawn Rolls Dexterity + Athletics + 4 (for bonus with Feddler, for rest of scene) and then +1 (Working with Feddler)

THEN Shawn applies minus 4 penalty (because p. 148 - calling shots - hitting someone in the head applies a -4 penalty)  Let me know if that sounds right.

OOC: It makes total sense, but I was just using the 'aim for the eyes' as flavour, not intended as a called shot. Is it okay if I just do a normal attack?

OOC: Just to keep things moving, I rolled the called shot anyway.

23:56, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 9,2,2,10(+6),4,4,2.  Dexterity + Athletics + 4 + 1 - 4.

Edit: Also, assume he’s aiming for the eye on the non-tattooed side of his face!
This message was last edited by the player at 04:26, Tue 30 July 2019.

It all happened so quickly just like one of the many movies that Shawn had seen. The "bad movies" that were rated 'R' and that little kids like him, if they weren't actors, were never exposed to until an older age when they became big kids.

Shawn barged through the door and threw the knife in an overhand arc. It flew through the air toward's Bradford. It was clear that Bradford was not expecting this. As if reacting with a flinch, Bradford attempted to push the blanket up higher and shield himself.

Then there was a dull thud and the wet sound of a slab of beef being cut. The next thing Shawn saw was the knife sticking out of Bradford's eye.

"ARRRRGGHHHHHH!!!!!" Bradford screamed, hands gripping the air, finger tips tense and curled up into painful claws. "My eye!!!! My eye!!!!"

Off balance from moving, Shawn's nemesis fell out of bed and onto the floor, he scrambled around in confusion, clawing at his face and managing to turn his back to Shawn in the process.

OOC: Shawn rolls 2d10 to determine additional damage
This message was last edited by the player at 09:45, Tue 30 July 2019.

Shawn switched the big knife to his dominant hand, but before he charged in to finish things, he took a quick glance around the room. Bradford had clearly been worried about someone (or something) coming for him, so he wanted to check for booby-traps; trip wire across the entrance, marbles on the floor, Mr. Clayton's dummy box, that sort of thing. Assuming his path was clear, he stepped forward with his second knife to finish things up close, calculating look on his face.

OOC: 07:50, 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 10(+5),5. Additional Damage.

Bradford tried to get up, a gout of blood shooting out of his eye and spouting gore onto the floor with a loud, wet 'plop.'

"Argghh! Argghhh! AGHHHRRRRR!"

Just then, a light turned on, illuminating the entire room in a pale, decaying orange color of an old-time lamp.

It was Mr. Clayton.




"You did it! Yucka, yucka!" He said in a congratulatory tone. "I didn't you had it in you."



The Puppet was sitting on a windowsill, high up near the top of the curtains. His wooden fingers released the chain of the tall room lamp, letting it dangle. He didn't seem to care that Bradford was screaming.

Shawn didn't hesitate as he moved towards Bradford, but he did slow down a little. He glanced up at the puppet, watching for him to try and defend Bradford or something. "Fix Eddy like you said. And then I want your power, all of it. Right now." His tone was completely flat, affectless.

Bradford stumbled around on his knees, one hand over his eye, other hand scratching the floor, nails leaving long streaks on the wood. Blood splattered out from in between his fingers. Turning in a half circle, his knee slipped and he lurched forward, screaming as his head hit the ground.



Mr. Clayton didn't seem to acknowledge Bradford. He just sat on top of the curtain rack with a wide smile on his puppet face. "I'll fix Eddie." He said to Shawn.



"I will. A deal is a deal. But you've got to finish what you came here to do Shawn. You've got to go all the way. A deal is a deal. Bradford destroyed your life. He took one of your best friends. He took Bobby."

Mr. Clayton looked down at Bradford with a frown and a look of pity.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:57, Fri 02 Aug 2019.

Bradford hacked a cough and stumbled back up to a sitting position. He's butt scooted backwards, legs splayed and spread open as he leaned his back against the wall.

He screamed a loud wail of pain. "ARRRRRRGHHHHH!" Then he covered his bleeding eye with both hands. Shawn could see that Bradford's glasses lay on the floor. Both lenses were shattered. There was blood everywhere. Smeared all over Bradford's pale, blue flannel pajamas.

With his hands covering one eye, Shawn say Bradford's other eye dart across between Mr. Clayton and Shawn.

"Mr. Cl..Cl..Clayton! Help! Hel..Help me!"

"Shhhhhhhhhh.....I did help you." Mr. Clayton said in a soothing voice. Even though Bradford did look soothed.

"I gave you what you wanted. You wanted to face Shawn. You wanted to kill Bobby. I helped you with all of that. All of it Bradford. All of it was yours. It still is."

"There's still time!" Mr. Clayton announced, still looking at Bradford. "Still time!" he said, voice registering a high, joyful, if not malicious note.

"Don't give up now Bradford old buddy! There's still time to kill Shawn. I mean, obviously if you ask me I'd say that the odds are stacked. Reeeeeeeeallllly stacked! Reallllly-Reaaaallly stack against you!!! Yucka Yucka!"

Shawn reached the struggling Bradford, and while he was still wary that Mr. Clayton might betray him, he knew he wasn't going to get a better chance than this. With Bradford's hands over his eye, and his legs spread, his chest was wide open. Shawn prepared to thrust right for the centre of mass, determined to end Bradford as quickly and painlessly as possible.

He didn't taunt Bradford as he moved in. Detached as he was, he wasn't enjoying the pain he had already inflicted here, and he wasn't angry or righteous enough to torture the other boy on purpose. It was just a simple, objective fact; Bradford had to die, and this was the most effective way Shawn had to make it happen. Maybe he'd be able to feel something about this when it was done...or maybe the part of him that could feel anything at all had died with Bobby. He didn't know, but he wasn't thinking about it anyway.

OOC: Shawn's not actually making a called shot to the chest here, just a bit of description. Do I need to roll, or is he sufficiently vulnerable that it's just a coup de grace?

"Do it! Do it!" Feddler urged Shawn on. "We have to do this. He killed. And He'll kill again."

"Mr, Clayton...he...hell..help!" Bradford croaked. Blood was now streaming down the front of his pajama shirt

Mr. Clayton looked down upon Bradford with a hard frown.

"You disgust me." He said

OOC: No need to roll

Shawn lined up the knife, and with a quick thrust to the heart, ended Bradford's life.

For a moment, his emotions threatened to all crash back in at once - anger at Mr. Clayton, guilt and grief for letting Bobby down, even a little bit of pity for Bradford. But Shawn immediately pushed them aside. There was still too much to deal with right now, including whether or not Mr. Clayton would betray him. He looked up at the dummy. "Well?"

The knife went in with a sickening almost silent 'whic' sound. Bradford's hands dropped to his sides, blood pouring out of that one eye. The other eye looked at him with a mix of confusion and fear. He opened his mouth to say something and then his eye rolled back into his head and he slumped to one side.

Shawn felt Feddler's emotions welling inside of him. The Imp was filled with a pleasurable sense of bloodlust. But, just then, Shawn also felt a trickle of fear push out of Feddler, followed by a sliver of shame.

"We did it." Feddler remarked, unable to hide that small sliver of fear and shame from Shawn.

"Congratulations!" Mr. Clayton rejoiced. He was still sitting on the curtain rack above looking down upon Shawn with an ear to ear grin. "You did it! You won the big prize! You killed Bradford!"

"And the prize is......MEEEEEEE!" Mr. Clayton elated.

"All you have to do now, is be the new ventriloquist! You can replace Bradford. You and I can finally be together, the way it was supposed to be when this whole circus thing started! Well, before the Circus was destroyed at least.....Yucka Yucka!!"

"Don't trust him." Feddler warned Shawn. "He destroyed the Circus. He destroyed Delilah. It's his fault that Bobby is gone. He convinced Bradford to take his anger and revenge out on you. He even destroyed Bradford in the end. If you become the ventriloquist he will be the end of us both!"

Shawn stepped back from Bradford's corpse, trying to avoid getting more blood on him than he had to. I don't trust him, but if he was powerful enough to destroy the Circus, we need him on our side. He knows stuff we need. Together we can use him - we just need to make sure we don't trust him like Bradford did.

He looked up at Mr. Clayton coolly. "First, you need to keep your word and fix Eddy. And before I even think about becoming your ventriloquist, you have to pay me back. You said you'd stay out of our fight, but you helped Bradford kill that other me. So I want a favour. Once that's done, then we can talk about the future."

"Hahahahaha!" Mr. Clayton gave a mirthless chuckle.

There was a 'clickety-clack' sound as he unhinged himself from the sitting position and then jumped onto the floor, wooden limbs jangling.

"You did a good job killing Bradford. I never liked that boy. He was a real cry-baby. Anywho, I'd love to help ya' out there Shawn. But you know what they say, a dummy is just a dumb-dumb without his ventriloquist.  Yucka!! Yucka!!"

"That's the problem. I actually can't help you out. Not until you become my ventriloquist. Until that happens, I'm just a dummy. Just a wooden dummy."

"He wants you to take him over. And then, he'll probably take us over." Feddler exclaimed with a sense of foreboding. "He's...a parasite. Like one of those ticks in the forest. Or a vampire."

I know he'll try to do that, but we're not Bradford. We know it's coming. We can take him over, use him, then get rid of him if he ever tries anything. Shawn was trying to send his mindset in Feddler's direction, hoping the imp would see where he was coming from.

Shawn looked Mr. Clayton up and down. "So what would I have to do? To become your ventriloquist? I need your power to fix things." Right now, he was stalling with questions - he wanted to make sure he had Feddler on board before he went any further with Mr. Clayton.

But Feddler wouldn't agree.

"Don't do it!" He warned. "He'll be the end of us both. He'll be the end of everything! Can't you see it's a trick? He wants you to be the new Bradford. And you'll end up just like the old Bradford!"

"All you have to do is put your hand up my back" Mr. Clayton said innocently. "That's it. It's not a trick. It's not complicated. Once you do that, you're the new ventriloquist. Then we can get to start fixing things around here. We'll fix Eddie. We'll fix your family. We'll fix everything."

"Everything will be just like it always was supposed to be. Only better."

I know it's a trick! But look at him - he's still moving and talking, and I don't know if we can kill him. If I don't do this, he'll find another Bradford and the whole thing will start over again. This way we can figure out his weakness. Shawn tried to keep his inner argument from his face he looked up at Mr. Clayton.

Shawn moved forward and slightly sideways, trying to see where he was supposed to put his hand. "That's all it takes? What about all those tapes and stuff Bradford used?"

"That's all part of it. That's part of perfecting the act. Your act" Mr. Clayton also moved closer to Shawn. Or rather, glided closer to him.

"But becoming the Ventriloquist. That's something you have to decide to do. Only you can make that decision. But you won't make it alone." Mr. Clayton clarified.

"I'll be there. Together we can become the best act ever. Together we can make sure that all of the bad things that happened when the Circus came about are put right."

Shawn wasn't sure if Feddler's silence was approval or just giving up on the argument, but Shawn had made his case and now he had to commit. "All right. We need to fix things." He stepped forward and put his hand up Mr. Clayton's back...

Shawn approached Mr. Clayton and their eyes met, a look of anticipation passing between them, as if Shawn's decision was something that would affect them both forever. A faucet somewhere in the house was dripping into a sink, each drop reverberating around the room like a cymbal, yet neither Shawn nor Mr. Clayton blinked or acknowledged the sound. Outside there was no traffic or cricket song, and by all accounts it must have been midnight - the time in which today becomes tomorrow.

The Puppet's back was cool and wooden, as Shawn slipped his hand under the fabric of Mr. Clayton's outfit. Up close, he could see the clothing was cheap and poorly made. The black overcoat had several moth or insect holes and the seams were frayed and falling apart, the stitching loose and sloppy.

Shawn's hand traveled up into the hole that would lead to the Puppet's mouth. He felt the inner grooves of Mr. Clayton's interior lined with patchy, well-worn fabric.

Then there was an audible 'CLICK' sound. Shawn's hand was suddenly firmly gripped by the interior of the Puppet, near Mr. Clayton's mouth, the way handcuffs might click on a prisoner. Suddenly, Shawn couldn't move his hand. It was firmly stuck inside the puppet, unable to move or to bend at the wrist.

Mr. Clayton said nothing. The Puppet's mouth slowly opened and Shawn felt his hand involuntarily move as the Mr. Clayton's mouth opened to a gaping maw.

Shawn took a deep breath, assuming he'd be fighting back panic, but it seemed at least part of him had anticipated something at least a little like this. He sat himself down on a non-bloodstained part of Bradford's bed, and sat Mr. Clayton down on his lap like one of those old ventriloquist shows. "I'm your ventriloquist now, so now you have to fix Eddy."

As soon as Shawn spoke the words "I'm your ventriloquist now", he felt a deep, radiating warmth coming from the center of his chest and then pushing down into the abdomen of his stomach.

Somehow he knew that things were about to change, probably forever.

OOC: Shawn joins thread

Shawn's Childhood Act II: Passage of time