Night Phase Three - Don't Ask It Silly Questions
The ride was not a short one, but no one seemed to mind. It was wonderful just to relax for a while. While on the fast-moving mono, the ka-tet members were able to get off their feet for a while, reclining on comfortable over-stuffed couches. A small refrigerator held bottled water, as well as cans of Coke and other assorted soft drinks. Unsure of the age of the beverages, everyone opted for the water. They did, however, indulge in the boxes of Twinkies that they found in an overhead compartment. “Twinkies,” Werecat informed them, “never get old.” Later, as the sun began to set, Werecat and Aragorn wandered off to explore the rest of the mono. They discovered upon leaving their compartment that there were private sleeping suites further back, enough for everyone to sleep alone if they pleased. Clearly, the ka-tet had stumbled upon a luxury mono of some sort. What its final destination was, they had no idea.
“Looks pretty creepy out there,” Werecat said softly, looking out the window at the ground as they flew over it. They were crossing a wide, rocky desert.
“Yeah, it does. Reminds me of the setting for some scary movie.” Knight shivered, and Scribz wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Werecat asked, turning from the window to look at Night.
Night shrugged. “I guess I haven’t experienced enough to know either way. “But I believe in monsters.”
“I believe in monsters too,” Sebas added softly.
Werecat rolled his eyes. “Not ‘monsters inside people’ and metaphorical stuff. I mean real monsters.”
Sebas nodded. “I mean real monsters as well, Werecat.”
He opened his mouth to ask for more information, but was interrupted by Grey who was sitting cross-legged on the opposite couch.
“I believe in monsters,” the man said.
“Well yeah, of course you do,” Scribz replied. “But have you actually seen one?”
Grey nodded. “You do not know the half of it,” was his response.
As they had in the hotel, the ka-tet spread out into separate compartments. At first, Squee voiced her concern that splitting up might not be the best idea. But she had been shot down.
“No one was killed last night,” TP told her matter-of-factly. “And besides, the only person who might have tried to kill you was taken care of earlier. We’re fine.”
Reluctantly, Squee nodded, and they moved off to lay claim to their individual rooms.
As the mono continued to barrel into the darkness, Aragorn and Werecat slept along-side each other in the twin sized bunk. Suddenly, Werecat stirred. Aragorn lifted his head and blinked sleepily, curious as to why his best friend was leaving the bed. Werecat noticed his concern and patted him gently.
“Just going for a walk,” Werecat informed him softly. Aragorn muttered a soft response of sleepy words that did not quite make sense together, and Werecat laughed. Then, as silently as he could, he slipped out of the cabin.
His arms stretched out on either side of him, fingertips tracing the walls, Werecat made his way slowly through the dark hallway. The lines of the walkway were lit with a small strip of lights, but they were not enough to illuminate the entire hallway. He proceeded slowly, but enjoyed being able to stretch his legs. All of that sitting had made an impact on him, despite the weeks of walking he had already endured. After a moment, he emerged into one of the larger sitting compartments.
“Werecat,” came a soft voice from somewhere in the darkness. He froze, arms still outstretched. Where had the voice come from? He did not recognize it, though it was definitely male. The speaker seemed to have a strange edge to his voice, as if purposely changing his sound. It was working.
“Who is there?” Werecat demanded. The voice chuckled.
“No one that you need to worry yourself about,” came the reply.
“Are you part of the ka-tet, or...?” His voice trailed. Or what? Of course the speaker was a part of the ka-tet. There was no one else aboard the mono. But the thought that this terrifying voice came from someone he was growing to call family caused his blood to freeze in his veins.
“Ka-tet?” The stranger laughed again. “The ka-tet is broken. It was broken long ago. You know that, deep down.”
Werecat grit his teeth. “That’s a lie,” he growled.
“No, it is not a lie. All that matters now is the ka-tet continues to fall apart. Innocents must continue to be killed-”
“-as it is the only way to ensure that no one ever reaches the tower.”
He knew what was coming next. But before Werecat could turn and flee the cabin, the door to the outside suddenly slipped open, the whipping wind from the outside masking the soft, familiar hiss. Immediately he felt himself being pulled toward the door from the sheer speed of the traveling vehicle, but he figured he was close enough to the other door to escape before being sucked out. He lunged.
“Ah ah ah,” the voice called in a sing-song voice. Werecat felt a sudden force strike him in the chest, as if a pair of invisible hands had struck him in the chest. He stumbled backward and over the edge of the door. Fortunately for him, he had escaped meeting the same fate as Cordi by grabbing ahold of the door as he fell. He clung there, his hair whipping madly, his eyes squeezed shut. Tears began to collect in their corners, but they were quickly jerked away by the wind.
“Help me!” Werecat cried. “Please help me.” But the voice only laughed again. To his horror, the man felt a sudden tugging on his fingers. He watched as an invisible force plucked each of his fingers, one by one, off the edge of the door. Finally, he could hold on no longer. The mono continued to shoot forward, but Werecat’s body fell behind.
Jorick sat alone in his room, watching the world flash by outside the window. It was a strange sensation, being two people, and he feared that he might never get used to it. His thoughts, his memories, were his own. But there were also brief flashes of a life he never lived. And his body, of course, was not his own either. Worst of all, he had discovered that he could not paint worth a damn. Perhaps it would be something that he would have to ease into again. The man reached up and rubbed his temple. He had had a throbbing headache all day, but he supposed it was just a side effect of being brought back from he dead.
There was a soft click behind him as someone else entered his room. Jorick turned from the window to greet the newcomer, only to realize with dismay that he could not make out the figure. His eyesight had been terrible as well, far worse than he had ever experienced before dying. Either that was also a side effect of resurrection, or his other self just really needed a pair of glasses.
“Who is there?” He called out, though not unkindly. He had no reason to assume that someone was there to hurt him. Unfortunately, that was precisely what was happening.
“Supernat’ral muthafucka,” came a cold voice from across the room. “T’aint natural that ya ‘live ‘gain. Gotta kill ya ‘gain ‘fore ya do some voodoo sh’t on us.”
The stranger did not even give Jorick time to reply. With his mouth still open in protest, the stranger raised its pistol, leveled it between Jorick’s eyes and planted a bullet in his brain. For a second time, he drew his last breaths as his body crumpled.
The figure stood there for a moment, smoking gun in hand, staring at the dead body. A person merely watching the scene might believe the stranger was regretting the decision to kill Jorick. But they would be mistaken. On the contrary, the stranger was simply admiring its work.
At the sound of the door opening, the figure spun around.
“I thought I heard a gunshot and I wanted to make sure everyone was okay,” Scribz said, clearly not understanding the situation as he entered the compartment. The stranger would not give him time to understand it. Only a split-second later, Scribz’s dead body joined Jorick’s on the floor, a similar hole in the middle of his forehead.
Squee awoke with a start. Somewhere, off in the distance, she swore she had heard a gunshot. Of course, the idea of running after the sound of a gun did not thrill her, but she knew she would never be able to fall asleep without doing a bit of investigating. As quickly as possible, while still making as little noise as she could, Squee left her room and moved down the hallway. The sound had come from further up the train, and she wanted to make sure that everyone was okay. That was when she noticed the figure with the knife moving quickly toward her. Not again. She thought about screaming, but decided to put all of her effort into running the other direction. As she did so, she tried desperately to think of a plan. She would lock herself into one of the compartments and wait out the attack. The night before, her person had lost interest and left. Perhaps that would happen again.
After a few seconds, she lunged into an empty compartment and fiddled with the door. Thankfully, this sleeping cabin did have a lock, and she flipped it with a satisfying click. She had escaped the danger yet again.
Still breathing heavily, Squee turned from the door to survey the rest of the room. And then she froze.
There was another figure standing on the other side of the room, silently watching her.
“Werecat,” she asked softly, “what are you doing in here?”
Night Phase Three Has Ended
has been killed. His role was Richard “Trashmouth” Tozier (IT).
has been killed. His role was Eddie Dean (Dark Tower).
Day Phase Three Begins
All players may cast one lynch vote. Players may determine who the killer is using clues in the storypost, as well as in each player’s response(s) to this thread. The player with the most lynch votes cast against them will be killed. Please send all lynch votes to Nat.
Please send all day phase role actions to Nat.