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.