It didn’t take Annette long to figure out who juror number four was. She didn’t even have to look very long at the body that awaited her.
Given how he looked, it seemed that Meliora had put a horse mask on him to compensate for his lost head. The end result looked, to say the least, bizarre if not outright comical.
Now Annette looked about the room, to get a general idea of what was to come. All she saw was that it was bathed in an orange light, and looked to be made of metal.
She then grit her teeth, trying not to unleash her hatred on the juror inhabiting this room, deserved though it may be. Instead, she just walked over and took hold of the body’s hand.
As she expected, he then grabbed her wrist, and the eyes on his horse mask began glowing.
“I know you don’t want to,” came Horse-Face’s voice, “But please, for the sake of the universe, help me.”
Like with the other three assistants, Annette was then thrust into the first scene. Right away, she recognized the location.
Twinbrook looked the same no matter how many times she entered it. The trees and the swampland were still present, as were the houses that stood upon the island like old friends.
Annette’s rising good mood evaporated quickly when she realized the reason she was here. She then turned, rather grudgingly, to face one of the houses that sat next to the road.
As she then went up to the door, she caught sight of the familiar black truck, with its flame decals. A twinge of painful remembrance coursed through her, recalling all the times she got the owner involved in various jobs in her world.
Once she reached the sliding glass door, Annette watched as the two owners were engaged in a sort of wrestling match. One had the other in a headlock.
She didn’t even want to associate them with their original names, for different reasons. All she wanted to know them as now were the two versions of Horse-Face.
When the first Horse-Face had enough of this idiotic rolling around, he kicked the second Horse-Face off of him and ran back into his room.
Annette cringed as she watched the second Horse-Face get to his feet and start cackling like a madman. Said cackling was thankfully interrupted by a phone ringing.
After the first ring, Horse-Face checked to see who it was, and then answered. “How’s it goin’, boss?”
He walked toward the front door, opening it and going out to the end of the house’s walkway. Annette felt a sort of shiver when he phased through her, and she listened on to his side of the conversation.
“Of course I know about your kid. I just didn’t know it was his birthday today. And I don’t know what that has to do with me.” As he spoke, Horse-Face made use of his free hand to grab a cigarette and put it in his mouth, promptly lighting it up.
He then paced about the walkway, as he listened to the other end and said the occasional “Uh-huh” and “Yeah” to keep the conversation going. Annette just looked on as Horse-Face heard something that made his face go pale.
“Say that again, boss? You want me to what?” He then pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, and ground it into the nearby walkway’s railing. “What kind of sick fuck are you?!”
More inaudible speaking could barely be heard. Annette could practically see his expression falter, as he solemnly nodded.
“Yeah…Yeah, I’ll be there in five minutes, then.” At this point, he hung up. Once he slid his phone back into his pocket, he then ran to the railing, bent over it, and hurled.
“Normally, I’d feel bad if someone was doing that, but right now I don’t really give a fuck.” For once, Annette wished she was actually there for him to hear her.
Soon, Horse-Face was done throwing up. He then proceeded to walk to his truck, his face smeared with vomit and tears.
Before he went down the stairs, he glanced back at his house, and took a deep, shaky breath. Annette made her way over to the end of the walkway, watching him drive off.
“I have a bad feeling I know what the next scene’s going to show me…”