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.