Clover
neither simple, nor coherent.
The sun shines on the steady skyline of Shibuya, and the citizens of the city groan awake from the benches turned to beds. Some thought they wouldn't be able to sleep through the night at all, but found themselves drawn to dreamland - perhaps the one calling themselves Composer had the power to 'put the Players to bed', as it had been in the Game? In any case, it doesn't take long for a headcount, and the group quickly finds themselves one short of last night's total. They're not sure where to begin - start canvassing all the streets of Shibuya? - but once they get to the scramble crossing... they don't need to look further.
Entrails and carnage compose a small circle in the exact center of the scramble. Surrounding white lines marking the diagonal zebra crossing appear to have been covered with finger-painted blood. Naked arms and legs protrude from the circle, the nails painted black with bile from the victim's spleen. The torso has been sliced and stabbed hundreds of times, with the ribcage on the upper left side of the torso expanded outward, through the skin, the ribs jabbing out like ragged, snapped knives. The head has been scalped - and someone in the group notices the hairpiece hanging triumphantly like a flag over a nearby traffic light. The brain is lit on fire like a candle, showing cleanly through the cut-away skull, the face intact save for the eyes, which have two Player Pins poked right into the vitreous membrane through the eyelids.
Someone in the crowd vomits.
Q Floor hums quietly, the image of the Player Pin - the Composer's apparent calling card - displayed a million times larger than life. (Small, small text at the bottom reads, "The Game Master would like to apologize for previously misspelling Flora and Ashes' name", then disappears.)
Negrek is dead. She was not mafia.
Forty-eight hours (for real this time) (maybe) for discussion and nomination.
Entrails and carnage compose a small circle in the exact center of the scramble. Surrounding white lines marking the diagonal zebra crossing appear to have been covered with finger-painted blood. Naked arms and legs protrude from the circle, the nails painted black with bile from the victim's spleen. The torso has been sliced and stabbed hundreds of times, with the ribcage on the upper left side of the torso expanded outward, through the skin, the ribs jabbing out like ragged, snapped knives. The head has been scalped - and someone in the group notices the hairpiece hanging triumphantly like a flag over a nearby traffic light. The brain is lit on fire like a candle, showing cleanly through the cut-away skull, the face intact save for the eyes, which have two Player Pins poked right into the vitreous membrane through the eyelids.
Someone in the crowd vomits.
Q Floor hums quietly, the image of the Player Pin - the Composer's apparent calling card - displayed a million times larger than life. (Small, small text at the bottom reads, "The Game Master would like to apologize for previously misspelling Flora and Ashes' name", then disappears.)
Negrek is dead. She was not mafia.
Forty-eight hours (for real this time) (maybe) for discussion and nomination.
