Post by Amanda Young on Mar 22, 2009 18:46:36 GMT -7
Death, it clung everywhere, in everything. The vents, the clothing on my body, the knives and other instruments strewn upon the table. My mentor and come father figure John Kramer was sick with cancer, bound to a wheelchair and breathing with a special breather thing when he had trouble. Don't ask me what its actually called, I don't pay attention. I was, however, paying attention to his words and news about the new traps set up for our next players. Standing up, with my arms folded across my chest, I stared down at the piece of paper, littered with designs of deadly traps that people could survive if they followed the rules. That 'if' was a big 'if.' Most chickened out and died when the traps went off, only few have survived, me being one. My trap was a Jaw Splitter trap, or a reverse bear trap if you are so inclined. I managed to get the key and get the trap off my head and as it landed, it went off. A second slower and my head would've been destroyed.
From that, John took me under his wing and I became his apprentice, although I still had allot to learn. He was telling me about the new victims, showing me files of each person he was talking about. I nodded my head, told to go and continue with my routine so I didn't arouse suspicion, and off I went. "Will you be okay?" I asked, hand on the door ready to push it open, catching John's nod, a soft smile was upon my lips before I exited, down the chilly hallway that was devoid of anything except metal pipes and ventilation shafts. The walls were made of concrete, rapping your knuckles on it really did hurt, trust me. Reaching the backdoor, I slipped out, no one was around so I began walking as if nothing was wrong, and if I wasn't planning something, just a girl walking down the street in jeans and a tank top. Of course, my heart rate was steady until I neared the corner, the wind playing dancing with my hair as I stopped still, wondering what was going on. Had they figured us out? I was worried.
See, before me was a few cop cars, plus an ambulance. We had never done any traps so close to John's workshop before, knowing it could be too easy for the cops to find him. But the scene before me showed otherwise. A body in a body bag, cameras going off, police investigators holding back the crowd. My eyes sought out Hoffman, his voice in my head when our eyes met. "Seems like we have a copycat. I'll keep them away from John, promise." Now, your probably thinking, hearing voices? Some say that during extreme emotional stress, latent gifts develop, like those people with abilities on the television. Well, me, and Hoffman both share the power of telepathy, long story on that, and while I have telekinesis, he has, well, I don't know what else he has. He never exactly shared with me. "Good, because we have a new trap ready, and we are not going to put it off any longer." With that, I carefully walked, making sure it looked like I was curious as to what happened, like several other people milling about.
From that, John took me under his wing and I became his apprentice, although I still had allot to learn. He was telling me about the new victims, showing me files of each person he was talking about. I nodded my head, told to go and continue with my routine so I didn't arouse suspicion, and off I went. "Will you be okay?" I asked, hand on the door ready to push it open, catching John's nod, a soft smile was upon my lips before I exited, down the chilly hallway that was devoid of anything except metal pipes and ventilation shafts. The walls were made of concrete, rapping your knuckles on it really did hurt, trust me. Reaching the backdoor, I slipped out, no one was around so I began walking as if nothing was wrong, and if I wasn't planning something, just a girl walking down the street in jeans and a tank top. Of course, my heart rate was steady until I neared the corner, the wind playing dancing with my hair as I stopped still, wondering what was going on. Had they figured us out? I was worried.
See, before me was a few cop cars, plus an ambulance. We had never done any traps so close to John's workshop before, knowing it could be too easy for the cops to find him. But the scene before me showed otherwise. A body in a body bag, cameras going off, police investigators holding back the crowd. My eyes sought out Hoffman, his voice in my head when our eyes met. "Seems like we have a copycat. I'll keep them away from John, promise." Now, your probably thinking, hearing voices? Some say that during extreme emotional stress, latent gifts develop, like those people with abilities on the television. Well, me, and Hoffman both share the power of telepathy, long story on that, and while I have telekinesis, he has, well, I don't know what else he has. He never exactly shared with me. "Good, because we have a new trap ready, and we are not going to put it off any longer." With that, I carefully walked, making sure it looked like I was curious as to what happened, like several other people milling about.