//cipher//

Yesterday, everything was seemingly fine in America. People went to work. They drank their coffee. They ordered their IKEA furniture. Everyone was living in a blissful haze of ignorance and materialism. Just like every capitalist country would. But something different happened. A disruption. A change of pace. It all started in Times Square. That's right. Right in the heart of the Big Apple. I should know. I was there. Everything was going fine. Everything seemed to be alright. Just another day in a normal, boring life. I was walking down to the subway station. Then I got this text from a blocked number. I tried my hardest to figure out who it was, but nothing seemed to work. So I opened up the message. It was a video. I pressed play, taking a seat on a bench, plugging in my headphones to see what this was all about. The video was a screenful of static. A low hum instead of that familiar, fuzzy noise. It hurt my ears. I started to wonder what the hell was up with this thing. I stayed glued to it, carefully watching for any sudden surprises. The static stopped, and I was shown a series of red numbers on a black background. They moved rather quickly, and a woman's voice read them out. I shook my head. What the hell was this? I saved the message. Something was weird about it. Something was off. I could feel it.I went to school, watching the video over and over. I was trying to make notes of anything that I found interesting in the video. What ended up happening was that I found myself copying the numbers down in my notebook. I headed home that night after I attended my evening college classes. I'll tell you what I saw. The police had found four bodies in a subway tunnel. Eyes taken out. Teeth removed. No nails. No skin on the fingers or feet. Completely unidentifiable. I'd never seen anything like it. They all had number carved into their chests. I looked down at the notebook I always carried with me to class. The one with the numbers written within. The first four numbers corresponded with the numbers carved on the body. I shook, shutting off the television as I shuddered. I walked upstairs to my room, turning on the light. There was an envelope in my room. A simple-looking letter. I opened up the letter, curious as to what this thing was doing in my room? What the hell was this? As I opened the envelope, I felt a breeze. The window was open. I shrugged. I opened the letter. In bright red on black paper, was a large number seven. Seven was the next number in the sequence. I dropped the letter. I called a few of my friends. They all told me it was just a coincidence. That I was crazy. They told me I was just being a paranoid freak. That I'd seen too many movies. It kept me up last night. I couldn't sleep now. No. Couldn't sleep. Too risky. I was already an insomniac. No point in trying to make a change. I could let the fatigue get to me. I had to stay up. Then I got a few calls from three other friends. They'd received the text. They saw the news. They found the number somewhere in their house. We all agreed to meet up and discuss our theories. Basically, you've got a very cryptic serial killer roleplay. The numbers are significant. But that's all knowledge I'm keeping. Gotta keep you guys reeled in. Anyways, post here if you're interested.

SomethingWeird Melted.

Quizicar The overly (Un)Qualified

cerozer0 Starboy

SomethingWeird Melted.

Zmerr The Android's Conundrum