User blog:Joeaikman/Ten Hated Wikians - Chapter 9

The fire licked at his feet as he stood on the pyre, tied to it by his hands and his feet. He didn’t remember being placed here, only waking from his unconscious when the heat started to increase around him. He remembered how hot it had been on the night that he had chosen to execute his best friend. The voices had told him that it was necessary, the red priestess had whispered in his ear and he had listened to everything that she had told him. She had said that to truly gain ultimate power he had to sacrifice the person closest to him, and so he had willingly given Purple to the flames. He had not expected this to be the result. He had not expected to be judged for his friend’s death with his own demise. That hadn’t been the fate he had been promised. It had all been a lie, but for what purpose?

He could feel his flesh begin to blister and roast, melting in places. The tendrils of the fire wrapped themselves around his calves now, rising higher upon his body. His clothes had caught the flames and soon he would be covered in the writhing heat that had been used to judge him. He tried to look down at the fire, but his head had been strapped in so that all he could do was look forward and into the distance. This stance made him think of Purple, and how they had often met on the big hill outside town. He had always talked about leaving and making it big some place else, but Assy had snatched him away before he could ever truly realise that dream. It had been a necessity at the time, but now he could see that it had all been for naught. Purple had died in the flames, and now the same flames had come to claim him.

Was his friend watching down on him now, as he met his righteous fate? Did he want to see him burn, or was he willing to forgive his best friend for the mistakes that he had made, even if they had been fatal? Was he cursing him at this very moment? He would find out soon enough, he supposed. When the fires engulfed him he would scream in agony, like anyone would if they burned to death, but after that it wouldn’t be long before his body stopped, failing from the agony and pain that it would be going through. He had seen it happen before, and he had done detailed reading about it online. He knew all the grizzly features of burning someone to death, never having thought that one day his knowledge might apply to events happening around himself.

The fire covered him now, and he started to scream. He called out for Wach and for Sega, for GIR and for Joe. He called to Melisandre and Davos and even Purple, hoping that one of them would come to his rescue. No one came. No one had cared enough to want to come and save him. He had isolated himself with his stories. He had no friends and no allies in this place, and it had cost him his life. What had he done worth living for? He had achieved nothing whilst he was alive, and he would achieve nothing with his death. He was not Stannis Baratheon. He was no king. He was a dying man on a pyre with no one willing to come and risk themselves for his survival. He screamed nonetheless and, soon enough, his body did stop. His last thoughts weren’t of his kingdom or his friend. They were of his insignificance and his immaturity. His life flashed before his eyes in the moments before he died, and all he saw were failures.

Three Hated Wikians, Assy would die like the sun

-

Sega had to be the killer, and that meant that he had to warn GIR and Assy before they were killed. If he could save anyone from getting out of here then he would try. He had watched too many people that he had known die today, and had suspected himself of being the person to give the killing blow. Now he knew that he was innocent, and he also knew for certain who the killer was. The three of them could escape and return to their normal lives back in Wiki. He could go back to writing, fuelled by the dark events that he had experienced today. He might be able to see his daughter again, if that was possible. He had gone through so much today and all he wanted was to hold her close to him. First he had to save the others and then when he escaped he would be seen as a hero, and finally people would give him the recognition he deserved.

He ran down countless corridors, not knowing where anyone else was. He didn’t see any bodies, or hear any sounds bar those that he made himself. Had the others both been killed off without him knowing it? Had Sega already got to them after he killed Joe? Had he worked everything out too late to save the others? He stopped dead in his tracks then. If GIR and Assy were both dead then that meant he was alone in this place with Sega, a murderer. Could that mean that he was the next target? Was there a trap already in place, waiting for him in one of these corridors. Maybe there would be a trapdoor to bury him beneath the earth, or perhaps he would be hanged like Grav, or brutally stabbed by Joe. Was it safest to stand still or to move? He had thought about what life would be like outside this death game, but he had thought too soon. He had not escaped yet, and surely by now Sega would be coming for him.

-

He was not a murderer. He had been justified in everything that he had done during the night. He had brought them all here for the purpose that he had achieved. They were all scum. They had blood on their hands, each and every one. He had sentenced most of their deaths in person, passing judgement on them for their past crimes. By now Assy and Sega would be dead, and that meant that only Wach remained alive. He had suspected that Wach would prove difficult to kill from the start. He was a smart boy, and no doubt by now he had worked out who the killer was. Maybe he would even come after him, but GIR suspected that he would more likely just be stood in some corridor somewhere. He left the room then, the wet floor empty but for a chair and a rope. He would come back soon enough, after the final deed had been done. He had killed so many of his oldest enemies this night, and now he had to cross another off his list.

It had been easy enough to convince Grav to host this entire night. He had a thing for his friends, and also for a touch of the spectacular. He had been closest to Grav of all of them. His death had been the hardest, and that’s why it had to happen first. He may have been his friend back in Wiki, but he was still responsible for what had happened so many years ago. He was a murderer just like all the others, and he had been judged for the blood on his hands.

Coupe had been the next to go, mostly because GIR knew that of all of those gathered here this night he had the coolest head for these kind of situations. It had been easy to enough to eye up the murder location when walking with Sega, and he had been able to plant the picture of Coupe, Steeler and Ynkr after they had split up, as well as set up the room for his death. It had been a happy coincidence that others had removed their own alibis and given themselves motives so as no one would truly suspect him of the crime.

Nail’s death had been the easiest to plan. He had made sure that she saw the only bed in the entire complex when she did the rounds with Flats. That meant that she would go there later when he arranged to meet her for some adult fun. She had taken his money then, and with it she had gained the last pat of the poem. She hadn’t realised what she had, however, and his plan to kill her off in the bed worked perfectly. He had set up the body to be fpund and had then returned tp admire his handiwork with the others.

Bran had been next, and how he had enjoyed killing the boy that had tormented him so much in high school. He hd smiled as the wire cut into his skin, stopping the flow of air to his lungs. When his body was limp he had torn the friendship bracelet from his wrist, throwing it to one side in a fit of anger and leaving his body to be discovered. It had been Bran’s just desserts for everything that he had done to him and his friends. Flats had been another easy one. He managed to corner him, injecting him with a serum to drive him insane and see his worst fears. He had planned on watching it all happen from his office, but Joe had already found his way there. He was thankful that he had not seen any more of the footage or else his entire plab may have failed.

He had done it! He had succeeded in the task of avenging his friend. The main culprit had died a horrible and bloody death, and he had been watching the whole thing on the CCTV cameras. He had gained such a thrill as he watched Joe’s lifeblood pour out of his body and onto the floor beneath him. He had been forced to leave before Wach found him of course, but still. It had been thrilling to watch his oldest foes die screaming for forgiveness and for himself to be spared. Joe was no more, however, and now there was only one foe that need fear his wrath.

-

He had been forced to run. He couldn’t just stand there and wait for Sega to knock him out of thee game, not when he knew everything. He had to find hid enemy. He had to find sega before Sega found him. There was no choice in the matter. At the very least he could escape this psycho and tell the world the truth of what happened here. Tell them about how it was Sega that drove his fellows against each other and killed them all off one by one. That was his duty to all his friends that had died today. He had to avenge them by bringing their killer to justice.

It was outside a room with a metal door that he met the real killer. GIR was humming as he walked, and the evil glint in his eye caused Wach to stop. It was weird seeing the usually pale and frail GIR stand menacingly before him. He rushed at him quickly, but his opponent side stepped and instead of the two of them clashing Wach barrelled straight into the empty room guarded by the cold, metal door. It closed behind it, seemingly of its own accord. All wach could see was was GIR’s face as he stood at the circular window.

“We play a game now Wach, and when it is over I can celebrate having finally avenged my beloved. You were all collectively responsible for the death of my best friend and nine of those with his blood on their hands are dead. You are the last of the ten, and I will have my revenge.” His face now showed anger instead of the usual fear that it held in its features. “By the sie of the door you will see a panel. Do you see it? Good. You will be asked a number of questions. If you get them right then you will be allowed to live. This door will open and you will be free. Then you can kill me, if that’s what you want. I will be reunited wih my loves in heaven. If you fail, however, the air in that chamber will be cut off. You will run out of oxygen and then you will suffocate. Good luck.”

The panel was clear, and it shone with a blue light. The keyboard was built in underneath, but wasn’t nearly as high tech as the machine itself. The qyestions popped up on the screen and ge answered them easily enough. They weren’t hard questions, and he was onfused by it. Did GIR want him to escape? He reached the last question and it asked him about poetry. That was when the poem that GIR had written entered his head. What had the next one been? One’s fingers would slip? His hand began to shake. Had his death already been written into the annals of fate and destiny? Was this what his life had always been leading up to? All he had to do was answer the final question and he could escape. He would be free.

The screen flashed red when he pressed enter. What did that mean? It surely couldn’t be good. He looked at his answer and it instantly jumped out at him. The typo that he had made was blatant. How could he have done this at such a crucial time? Had he been distracted by the poem? Had he subconsciously tried to make the future come true as it had to be done? Had he seen so much today that he had lost the desire to live? Whatever it was that had led him to this the mistake had happened, and it had cost him everything. The air ran out and wach was left thinking about what could have been.

Wach’s fingers would slip, and then there was one.

-

He watched with glee as Wach died in front of him, the last piece of the puzzle in gaining his revenge for the death of Drakan. These people had murdered Drakan with their words, driving him into a spiralling depression from which he would never recover. They had deserved the deaths that they had been given for their past crimes, and, ever the vengeful god, he had dealt out the punishments that fate had decreed must be necessary.

He walked away from Wach’s body in the room, not opening the door and instead choosing to leave the body for whichever members of the police force were sent to recover the night’s dead. He left the note that he had prepared on the stage. It explained how he had given his justice to each of them and why each of the murderers had to die for their crimes. He then returned to the empty room that he had left before. He prepared the room for the final act, lashing the rope around the pipes along the ceiling. He stood on his chair, placing the noose around his neck.

“One Hated Wikian, his revenge finally all done, GIR would follow his hero, and then there was one.” He kicked the chair out from underneath him, hanging there from the ceiling as his own breath escaped his lungs. Unlike Wach, however, he died with a smile upon his face, gazing off into the horizon and imagining that he could see Drak and Kitana waving to him in the distance.