Malum’s decapitated head fell to the ground with everyone watching. It ended up splattering all over like an overripe melon, with some of the mess getting on Meliora’s face.
Then, all was silent for a little while. It became so quiet, that it was almost stifling. Annette bent over the edge of the pillar, trying to get a better look.
“Is it over?” She could hear Shark quietly ask.
Malum continued to laugh at Annette’s apparent misfortune, beckoning the others to come closer to her.
“There’s no need to be shy, everyone!” She said to them. “I’m sure dear Annette is aching to hear your voices again!
Annette could only wait with intense dread as the group stepped forward to confront her.
(Warning! Rape and implications of incest!)
A harsh orange glare was the first thing that hit Annette’s sight upon reaching the second scene. It had hit so suddenly, that she doubled over and covered her eyes.
When she managed to uncover them again and squint through the light, it still took a little while to adjust to the lighting. Then, she recognized the setting.
“I don’t remember the wiring in the warehouse being this bad,” she said to herself as she wandered through the hall in front of her.
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.
(No, this has nothing to do with that dreadful Spider-Man comic arc)
The Twin’s next destination was to her sister’s room, a place she never wished to set foot into again. She swallowed and pressed on, however, her personal grievances meaning nothing in the grand scheme of things.
She knew she was going in the right direction, by the powerful smells of menthol and booze, and the scent of blood. By the time she reached the door leading to the room, she had to pinch her nose shut.
As always, the room was a mess. Numerous weapons and partially eaten body parts littered the floor and tables inside. The bed was messy, and showed clear signs that it hadn’t been washed in quite some time.
(Warning! Brief allusions to incest and rape!)
Once The Twin stepped cautiously out of the hidden passage, she found herself in the room with the jail cells. The only sound that could be heard was that of her footprints approaching one of the cells.
After she opened the cell door, The Twin walked over to the two dolls still in their chairs. Julian was still propped up in his, but Samira had fallen over onto the table.
Though they were stuffed dolls now, and incapable of feeling pain, The Twin still tried to be careful with picking them up. Continue Reading
Before everyone now on the stage, while all of them were stunned into silence, stood The Builder in a completely different attire than before.
Now, she wore neither her usual shirt and shorts, nor the bandages from earlier. This time, she was wearing an elaborate black dress. The wrapping covering her eye sockets was clean, as if she’d just changed it. On her neck was her heliotrope brooch.
“What, are we being subjected to a low-budget adaptation of Amadeus or something?” Marc said in bewilderment.