Clover
neither simple, nor coherent.
The members of Shibuya made their way to Dogenzaka after doing what had to be done last night. They held a small hope that the smells of the still-operating restaurants down that route would overpower the stenches of the rotting corpses, considering no one at all would volunteer to clean them up. The initial adrenaline rush of panic could only stave off hunger for so long, however, and the group is numbed to any shame in relieving the local noodle shops from a bit of their stock.
Unfortunately, it would appear one... no, wait, two! members in their midst have procured some powerful pharmaceuticals from Shibu-Q Drugstore, and secretly unbeknownst to their victims imbued rock-ground's /and/ Loco Mocho's dishes with sedatives. No shaking their shoulders, yelling in their ears, or drenching of cold water on their heads will wake them, rendering them unconscious for the entire day (except, as this is the immensely precise Graveyard Shift brand of sleeping pills, after nominations have been made and the sun goes down; they are allowed to vote in the poll).
There is one more missing from their numbers, and the six people remaining present and able decide to double back on their route then go from there. They move past Shadow Ramen to A-East, when one calls to the rest, thinking he can smell something from inside the pitch-black Concert Stage. The group files into the place that's as dark as ever, knitting their eyebrows at the acerbic scent, then one fumbles on the light switch.
Glaring fluorescent bulbs flash on line by line, illuminating the steel scaffolding and concrete floor. After blinking to adjust to the rapid change in brightness, the members react with (mock?) shock and horror. If they thought yesterday's victim was bad, they hadn't seen anything yet.
The first thing noticed about the body is hot, red blood still spurting from shredded jugular and carotid arteries. The neck remains connected to the head by few thin strands of muscular tissue, with the skin of the face bleached by extremely strong acid. The eyes have been eaten away completely, the mouth and nose appear to have been closed with superglue, and the hair is matted and bloody. A hole has been cut from the skull and the brain removed to make room for the victim's own backbone, somehow standing straight and stiff. The long and short intestines appear to have been somehow knitted together into a rectangle and frozen, allowing for the Player Pin design to have been painted on it with waste. The tableau appears as a flag in whole. The astringent smell seems to have been emanating from the Player Pin design etched into the concrete floor below with acid.
The person the body once belonged to would be unidentifiable were it not for their clothes laid out neatly beside her, with not a stain nor scratch on them. One can only assume that it's...
blazheirio889 is dead. She was not a Reaper.
Forty-eight hours for discussion and nominations and database errors, eh? What's the deal with those?
Unfortunately, it would appear one... no, wait, two! members in their midst have procured some powerful pharmaceuticals from Shibu-Q Drugstore, and secretly unbeknownst to their victims imbued rock-ground's /and/ Loco Mocho's dishes with sedatives. No shaking their shoulders, yelling in their ears, or drenching of cold water on their heads will wake them, rendering them unconscious for the entire day (except, as this is the immensely precise Graveyard Shift brand of sleeping pills, after nominations have been made and the sun goes down; they are allowed to vote in the poll).
There is one more missing from their numbers, and the six people remaining present and able decide to double back on their route then go from there. They move past Shadow Ramen to A-East, when one calls to the rest, thinking he can smell something from inside the pitch-black Concert Stage. The group files into the place that's as dark as ever, knitting their eyebrows at the acerbic scent, then one fumbles on the light switch.
Glaring fluorescent bulbs flash on line by line, illuminating the steel scaffolding and concrete floor. After blinking to adjust to the rapid change in brightness, the members react with (mock?) shock and horror. If they thought yesterday's victim was bad, they hadn't seen anything yet.
The first thing noticed about the body is hot, red blood still spurting from shredded jugular and carotid arteries. The neck remains connected to the head by few thin strands of muscular tissue, with the skin of the face bleached by extremely strong acid. The eyes have been eaten away completely, the mouth and nose appear to have been closed with superglue, and the hair is matted and bloody. A hole has been cut from the skull and the brain removed to make room for the victim's own backbone, somehow standing straight and stiff. The long and short intestines appear to have been somehow knitted together into a rectangle and frozen, allowing for the Player Pin design to have been painted on it with waste. The tableau appears as a flag in whole. The astringent smell seems to have been emanating from the Player Pin design etched into the concrete floor below with acid.
The person the body once belonged to would be unidentifiable were it not for their clothes laid out neatly beside her, with not a stain nor scratch on them. One can only assume that it's...
blazheirio889 is dead. She was not a Reaper.
Forty-eight hours for discussion and nominations and database errors, eh? What's the deal with those?
