mayfield_mods: (Zemekis)
Mayfield Mods ([personal profile] mayfield_mods) wrote2012-11-22 11:35 pm

event end: the beginning of the end

[At the Church of Salvation, the doors have been blasted open as if by a grenade. The interior of the church is normal- normal, that is, save for the glitch pockets surrounding the pews, growing and widening with each passing second. As with every glitch pocket you've encountered thus far, there are whispers tugging at the edges of your mind... but here, strangely, they're rather quiet despite your close proximity to the holes. The whispers are muted, as if something is suppressing them- and it's not hard to figure out what that something is.

A man is kneeling in front of the central pulpit, head bowed, unmoving. You've never seen him in person before, but somehow, instinctively, you know who this man is- or was. As you approach, his body flickers, rippling with the same sort of chaotic nothingness as the glitch pockets. You know, without asking, that Jonathan Zemekis won't be here for long.

As you stand before him, he raises his head and looks at you. His eyes are weary, broken, and surprisingly human; his voice is hoarse and defeated.]


So.

It's you.
inthebones: (I am become Death)

[personal profile] inthebones 2012-11-23 05:10 am (UTC)(link)
I would kill you.

.....But I don't think you'll be needing it, as absurdly unsatisfying as that is.

[Susan appears in the space between seconds, sword drawn and expression as unruffled as it always is. In her eyes, though... Within that calm demeanor lies a deep enmity, a hatred usually reserved only for the likes of the Auditors. Reality would flicker around this woman whether or not Zemekis was about to be consumed by his own creation.]

Are you happy?
inthebones: (Humoring)

[personal profile] inthebones 2012-11-23 05:21 am (UTC)(link)
Whyever not?

You've managed to enslave, by loose estimation, upwards of a thousand unwitting people in this delusional reality you call a paradise. The breadth and depth of the people you've made intensely unhappy spreads farther than any other madman in any world or any dimension. We must represent at least several hundred cultures, many of which don't even have humans, if not several hundred planets altogether. You haven't merely played the puppeteer. You've been the concertmaster of a hundred different symphonies playing simultaneously to create the most cacophonous discord ever heard by sapient ears.

I'm sure you've broken some sort of record. You'll be remembered forever.
inthebones: (Talk down)

[personal profile] inthebones 2012-11-23 05:52 am (UTC)(link)
I've borne your indignities and tribulations rather gracefully thus far. Why in the world should I go stark raving mad at the end of it all?

[With deft control of the blade, Susan swings it so it stops just short of his neck.]

Do you know, I think I'll wait for your soul.

...Perhaps we can chat until someone walks in and dissolves you into ashes with pixie magic.

Namely, since you're about to take a one-way trip to the Desert, it wouldn't be unreasonable for you to tell us how to get rid of that irritating Johnson woman.
inthebones: (Solemn)

[personal profile] inthebones 2012-11-25 02:03 am (UTC)(link)
I wasn't expecting much, no.

Then perhaps you can tell us how to destroy the simulation altogether without waiting for the inevitable end. My patience is running thin.
inthebones: (Irritation)

[personal profile] inthebones 2012-11-27 01:39 am (UTC)(link)
It's as if you all insist upon being absurdly useless the moment you're stripped of your power.

Don't you have anything helpful to offer? I believe it's proper form to offer a cryptic clue in a dying act of spite or something along those lines.