Hitman XIII: You Need Not Know The Name

[Burnmad]

Hah! Did anyone else notice the irony? I meant to put the stomach acid in Axilus, but I ended up putting Axilus in my stomach acid.

 

*Snaps fingers*

Edited December 3, 2014 by Colonel Roy Mustang

[Chro]

*Snaps fingers*

Stop doing that. G&T isn't West Side Story.

[Burnmad]

*Snaps fingers*

Stop doing that. G&T isn't West Side Story.

 

 

*Snaps fingers once more, setting Chro on fire*

 

...

 

...

 

*Snaps fingers*

[Chro]

My left arm is already on fire. Can't do much worse.

[ShadowVezon]

It's a good thing I missed the party, I'd probably have slaughtered y'all after that display.

Edited December 4, 2014 by Neo ShadowVezon

[Chro]

What would you have done - thrown chips at us?

 

Oh

 

Hold on

[Kopekemaster]

Well, the person who hasn't sent in their kill yet (Mustang, I think?) is lucky, since I can't start writing it until tomorrow.

 

I won't tell you *when*, tomorrow, so make sure you send it in soon, mkay?

[Burnmad]

Hm? I thought I sent it. I suppose I probably never hit 'send' on the message.

 

*Snaps fingers*

[Chro]

You were too busy snapping your fingers to click the mouse

[Burnmad]

I don't snap my fingers in PMs, or use red, bolded text, for that matter. You should know this by now. Silly Chro.

 

*Snaps fingers*

[Chro]

I have had no PM conversations with you since you've been Mustang, which explains the snapping, but I could've sworn you used red at some point...

[Kopekemaster]

So, yesterday and today were a bit busier than I had predicted, but I have all of the deaths/suicides mapped out, and I think I should be able to post it on Monday.

[Van Hohenheim]

I wanna know how I died. post it and put it in spoiler tags.

[Burnmad]

I'm sorry to tell you, Doorman: You didn't die.

 

(Or maybe you did, Iunno)

 

Anyway, take your time with the scene. If it's anything like the last one, take however long you need. =P

 

-

[Kopekemaster]

Same rating goes as for last round.

 

Welcome back.

To avoid the inevitable, sudden increase of deaths and blood that would be caused by having all of our still-living players immediately in each other's vicinity, I have randomly spread them all apart. They must now find each other.
(Interestingly, now that they're all in "Heck", I think they are all technically dead. I guess it's just a matter of who will only die once, and those who will die twice.

Now in my natural environment, I walk around, hoping that the festivities of Round Two will start soon. I know that none of them have died yet, but sense that one's death is near.

I drift over to him.
Doorman.
He's got his rusty spoon, which he would be known by if, well, he was still in the land of the living, and he's heading towards...
Ah, I see. There, in the distance.
It's Chris Pratt.
Doorman is marching across the desolate plain of the underworld, passing by one of the innumerable lava pools that are the main natural landmarks of the place. Suddenly, he stops. Looks at the lava.
Looks at the spoon.
In a fit of delirium, he kneels by the lava, and takes up a spoonful of the lava (I guess the rusty spoon is made of something stronger than I had initially thought). He holds it in front of his face for a moment, debating something, then opens his mouth and pours the molten rock in.
He scoops up another and another bite of it, unable to stop or quench his thirst for the furnace heat of the lava.
Everywhere inside him that it touches is instantly incinerated. He would feel the pain, but his nerves are the first things that are killed. All he feels is a dull feeling inside himself that his end is coming, but somehow doesn't know why. He continues swallowing the lava, unable to get enough.
He plunges his face into the pool, drinking it up as fast as he can. He tries to pull his head out, knowing indistinctly that this is bad, but it's too late for him. His mask has melted off into the lava, and the lava has burnt irreparably his entire head. By the time his body slumps to the ground, he's dead.

JAG18 had seen Doorman in the distance, and is marching across Heck towards him, but by the time he gets there, Doorman has been reduced to a grotesque lump of once-living biomechanics. Some resilient bit inside him continues to work, and an arm reaches out slowly, pleadingly, towards JAG18.
JAG knew that Doorman is dead, but jabs his red-hot poker through the arm, pinning it to the ground, anyway. Whom he wished to kill was already dead, and he has no more reason to live. He wishes he could die, like Doorman, but knows that he was not fated to.
He sits by Doorman's remains, without a will to continue.
Mustang sneaks up behind JAG, then slips on an inconveniently-placed patch of marbles. The sound alerts JAG to Mustang's presence, and he turns around, arms outstretched, welcoming his death.
Mustang recovers from his mishap, and rushes towards JAG with his syringe, dripping his specially-designed Corrosive Delight (Trademark, patent pending, all rights reserved, Copyright 2014), not willing to let this perfect opportunity to get away.
But I have other plans. I knock the syringe out of his hand, into the pool of lava that was right by the desperate party.
JAG looked to the lava, and then to Mustang, and back again, tears forming in his eyes. The time had come, and gone. There would be no death for JAG. It was a fate worse than death, you might say.

Actually, no! I wouldn't say that! Hey, I'M DEATH. THERE IS NO FATE WORSE THAN ME, YOU GOT IT? I'M THE NARRATOR HERE. THERE IS NOTHING WORSE. GOT IT? NOTHING!

In a separate part of Heck, Lukora is on a hunt. A Chris Pratt hunt. Mr. Pratt is still standing in the place that Doorman had seen him at, for some reason, not really wanting to do anything. Apparently, since his death was the only one that succeeded last round, he thought he was going to die.
How silly.
Lukora had, somehow, managed to get to a Home Depot before he began his hunt, and is carrying with him a pack of nails, and a hammer.
These aren't any regular nails, though. These are Coleman's Special Nails of Treachery (Perfect for killing off those whom you need to *pay back*!).
Chris Pratt is sitting by a lava pool, soaking in the warmth. He's from the north, you know, where it's darn cold.
Both hands are in back of him, propping him up in his relaxed position.
Lukora silently comes up behind him, sets a nail on one of Chris Pratt's fingers, and begins hammering. The armor shatters around the hole the nail makes, pierces all the inner workings of the digit, and breaks through the protodermis bone.
"This is it," Chris Pratt thinks.
(I might suggest *listening* to this, as many times as possible, during this time: https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=OBRwa0w2hIs#t=6 )
A grin on his face, he moves to the next finger, and the next. Another and another are nailed into the ground, Chris Pratt believes his prediction is coming true.
But Lukora runs out of nails. How did this happen? He made sure to get the 100 pack. How are there only five in here? What the heck (hehe), Home Depot?
Chris Pratt turns around, aware that something has stopped. Lukora is looking around for the nails that must have fallen out somewhere.
The pain has cleared Mr. Pratt's head. He know's he isn't going to die right now.

Lukora is.

Apparently, he had stuck a fire poker into the lava beforehand. He pulls it out, dripping lava and red-hot.

"You hammered down my hand, so your hand will be the first to go."

Chris Pratt rips his hand off of the ground. The nails tear away at his body, but he pays them no mind.
He kicks Lukora, who had started to stand up, to the ground. He beats him in the head once or twice, to loosen him up a little bit, then plunges the poker through Lukora's wrist. The cauterizing effects of the poker still don't get rid of the pain, and Lukora lets out a scream.

"Oh, now, we can't have you making so much noise, now can we. I guess your tongue is next."

Chris Pratt, with his foot on Lukora's heaving chest, puts the poker into the lava again, to get it back up to temperature. He then pulls Lukora's mouth open and sticks the poker in, jabbing randomly near his tongue and throat.
"Had I a meat cleaver, I might just pull a Galen ([look him up, if you don't know]). You're quite the squealing pig. But I don't have that, do I. Guess I'll just have to use what I've got."
He heats the poker again, and hovers it in front of Lukora's eye.
He smiles at Lukora, then slowly lowers the poker into Lukora's eye, scalding away at the exterior, until, like in Doorman's secret fantasies, the eye pops and he rams the poker the rest of the way through his head. That eye is gone, and he's losing brain activity, but there's still one more eye.
He heats up the poker and preforms the same upon Lukora's other eye. Lukora, the whole time, is making a gagging sound, the only sound he can still make, wishing to scream but physically unable.
Chris Pratt rams the poker through that side of Lukora's head, and knows his goal has been completed.
He shoves the poker into Lukora's chest and walks away.

Well, now. That was fun. But I guess everyone has gone now, right? Time for a change of scenery for next round?
Since this round was exceptionally... toasty, I think we'll now be visiting one of my favorite places.

The drifts, in Ko-Koro.

 

 

 

tl;dr, Doorman committed suicide by eating lava, JAG18 didn't get to kill him, Mustang tries to put JAG out of his misery and fails. LuROka tries to kill Chris Pratt, who wasn't really doing anything, but runs out of nails. Chris Pratt kills Luroka with a red-hot poker.

I take them all to The Drifts in Ko-Koro.

 

Dead (aside from last round):

Doorman

Luroka

 

Alive:

Chris Pratt

JAG18

Col. Mustang

 

You can send in your kills.

Edited December 8, 2014 by Kopekemaster

[Burnmad]

I'm sorry, JAG. I failed you. ;n;

 

-

[Voltex]

Oh my god I'm so brutal I love it

 

I can now properly appreciate death when it comes

[Makuta Luroka]

I am very disappointed. My name is spelled Luroka. L-U-R-O-K-A. Also, I am suing the Home Depot over this problem with my 100 pack Nails of Treachery

[Kopekemaster]

Wait...

 

It is.....

weird

 

For some reason, whenever I read your username, I read it as Lu-kor-a.

 

Sorry 'bout that.

 

Of course, you're dead, so...

Edited December 8, 2014 by Kopekemaster

[Van Hohenheim]

I died by eating lava.

 

"4/10

 

10/10 with rice"

 

I demand this be inserted into the scene right before I die.

Edited December 8, 2014 by Doorman

[Axilus Prime]

Heh. Who knew Kopekemaster could be so gruesome? He seemed really innocent before.

[Kopekemaster]

You've obviously not read much of my writing (the writing on my writing blog, I mean).

 

Anyway, I can be gruesome...when I wish. heh heh heh

[Kopekemaster]

Obviously, this scene will be shorter, and I think I might be able to write/post it tomorrow? If not today. We'll see.

[Voltex]

Looking forward to it!

[Kopekemaster]

Eep. Sorry. This week has been hecka hectic.

 

Update: I've mapped it out, and begun writing. Should be up in a little bit. (Heh heh heh this last round worked out pretty conveniently.)

Edited December 12, 2014 by Kopekemaster

[Kopekemaster]

(same rating and all as before, etc.)

Sorry about that. I had a few problems with H.R., getting the players out of Heck. Took a while to explain that they weren't really dead.
Well, except the ones that were. But I wasn't taking them with me, so they didn't really matter.
Anyway, I succeeded, and brought them all to the Ko-Wahi drifts, and, again, I preform my place-randomization, sending them all in different places within a 300 meter range.
I wait a few minutes, then look around me. I see a fire a ways off, and walk towards it.
The snow is coming down heavily, but someone has managed to start a large fire, and has a large pot hanging over it, snow melting inside into water.
Ah, I see who it is, now. It's Mustang. Looks like he has his meat cleaver out, sharpening it against a stone.
Oh, yeah, it's the same one that Axilus was using earlier in the game. I guess it dulled a little bit when he was chopping himself up.
I ask him mentally what he's doing. Apparently, he really liked that soup earlier in the game, and has gotten hungry again.
There aren't many rahi out here, so, obviously, the meat source will have to be one of the other players. Sounds like he wants to use JAG18.
He frowns, though. That's never a good sign. He swings his leg over the pot, so that's it's resting on the edge and hanging over the now-steaming water. The cleaver comes down mid-way on his thigh. His leg slides off, into the water. He pulls it out, and chops it into smaller pieces, keeping the stub of his leg still on the pot, the blood streaming down into the water.
There is no screaming. The suicidal tendencies, locked away for years inside his tortured mind, have anesthetized his entire body in preparation for his end.
Done with the leg, he goes to the opposite arm and hand. The cleaver holds memories of Axilus' death. It will repeat them.
The still-twitching fingers and arm-muscles go into the stew, now a deep red. The blood coming from his leg is now a thick, slow-moving ichor.
Mustang bends over the pot and brings the cleaver down, one final time, splitting the jugular, snapping through tendons, muscle, and bone. His head falls into the bubbling stew, and his body falls to the ground beside the fire.
JAG18, shielding his eyes from the blizzard-like snows, comes up to the fire, a saw in his hand.
"Hey, Mustang," he says. "That smells good. I hope you'll let me have some after I kill you."
He's coming from the opposite side of the fire, though, and doesn't see Mustang's body until he walks around it.
His smile disappears, then he looks back at the stew.
"I guess you didn't quite finish preparing it, did you. I guess I'll have to do it."
Bending over with the saw, he continues the act that Mustang had started - breaking down the body into smaller pieces and tossing them into the stew. He stays beside the pot for a while, waiting for it to finish cooking, then takes out an extra rusty spoon that he had stashed away from a previous round, and begins eating.
It's just the right kind of thing to keep one's self warm in the cold climate.

Chris Pratt is feeling good. He's somehow avoided death both rounds so far, and both of his kills succeeded. He feels that, however this round works out, things will be just fine with him.
In preparation for any eventuality, he has prepared a syringe of a mysterious liquid that supposedly turns the bloodstream into fire. Or at least it feels like it. He didn't really check, when he got it.
He's heading towards the fire that our other players had already gone to, still unsure what fate he truly wishes for.
Then, the moment comes. He feels the urge, and fulfills it. He jabs the needle-sharp point of the syringe into his neck, and depresses the plunger, filling his bloodstream with the poison.
His entire body's heat increases. His heart has started beating faster, though he isn't sure whether that's just from anticipation, or the actual effects of the drug.
The burning increased. He looked down at his hands, and saw that some light was coming from his skin.
"I guess it's literal fire, then," he said.
The skin and armor melted away, burning at the touch of the internal fire. His heart was ablaze, yet kept beating, until the heat began to boil the blood and burst his heart and veins.
The body of Chris Pratt was on fire, and fell to the snow. It sizzled there, as the snow put out the flames, but all that was left was his blackened corpse.

Well, now. I guess that means that JAG18 is the winner. Winner, meaning the only survivor.

I think I'll let him find his way back to his village, through the Drifts. I'm kind of tired, you know. All this warping-around. Phew.

Keep in mind that I can't assure that he'll make his way back to his village safely. The Drifts can be dangerous, you know.

Very easy to get lost.


tl;dr, Mustang committed suicide, JAG18 ate some Mustang stew, and Chris Pratt committed suicide.

JAG18 is the winner.


Thanks for letting me host, guys. Hope you enjoyed it!

[Voltex]

Yes

Best suicide ever

[Burnmad]

There is no screaming. The suicidal tendencies, locked away for years inside his tortured mind, have anesthetized his entire body in preparation for his end.

 

That's how you do it! Real men don't scream when making soup out of themselves.

 

Good game, JAG! I guess instead of alphabet soup, you'll be having alchemist soup.

 

...

 

...

 

(You know, it was supposed to be a stew...)

 

*Snaps fingers*

[ShadowVezon]

I'll be willing to host, if nobody else wants to.

[Axilus Prime]

Well, that suicide mechanic certainly made for the most depressing game of Hitman I've ever read!

 

Go ahead and give it a shot, Vezon.

[Kopekemaster]

Well, that suicide mechanic certainly made for the most depressing game of Hitman I've ever read!

 

XD That was kind of the point.

[JAG18]

Hmm, I must have missed the "go ahead and commit suicide" memo; it was great to be the winner for the whole two hours I had before dying of hypothermia.  

 

Anyway, GG everyone.  

[ShadowVezon]

My game'll be a bit more light-hearted. Unfortunately, the rise of massive twists and changing locations has made my old game plan outdated, but I've designed a new one.

[Kopekemaster]

Wow I just read the final scene and realized that I went into past tense a few times during Chris Pratt's suicide. Sorry about that.

[Axilus Prime]

Your game being lighthearted isn't a problem. I think mine were kinda lighthearted.

[ShadowVezon]

I never said it was a bad thing. The original plan for the game was to simply be a Jokerized version of Hitman, but for now I might go with "Murder Simulator" instead.

EDIT: If all goes according to plan, Hitman XIV: Murder Simulator will be posted tomorrow.

Edited December 14, 2014 by Neo ShadowVezon