Welcome to Gaia! ::

The Victorian-esque warden paced back and forth, toying with his pipe in one hand. The three jailbirds sat before his desk in his office, each staring as the warden’s feet rhythmically clunked on the floor.

“One of you must know the answer,” the warden mused. “One of you must understand why the caged bird sings,” he turned to face them; his eyes seemed to bore into them like an insurance salesmen. “You must tell me. Now.”

“Why is it so important?” KingShoy tried and failed miserably not to squeak.

“Only the caged one would know,” the warden stared hard at Shoy until he shrank back into his chair.

Sakura blinked. Then, she laughed. “Why, if that’s all it is, why didn’t you just say so? I mean, we’re all caged! We’re in jail!”

The warden shook his head. “Your physical capacities are held back, for you may not go to and fro wherever you please. But you are not the caged one, for your emotions are still free. You are free to feel joy, anger, hatred, sadness, and fear. You can act on your feelings without snapping. At least,” he raised an eyebrow, “to a certain degree. Hence, unless you can answer my question, you are not the caged one, for you do not understand the answer.”

“And so you know the answer?” Nan questioned.

“That is for me to know and for you to wonder,” he snapped. “Now. Answer my question. Do you know why the caged bird sings? Any of you?”

The jailbirds were silent. They looked at each other, as if each one of them bid the others to speak. But in the end, no one spoke. They were silent, as if the moment had stolen their voices away.

The warden sighed. “Very well. You will go back to jail until you have an answer. If any of you can answer my question, you will go free. Remember that.”

It was a long, silent, but ponderous night in the jail cell that evening.

---Later That Night---

Ho` Shiz sat at his computer that night. His wasn’t so ponderous. For some time, he played CounterStrike, but eventually, striking monsters with kitchen counters got boring. So, instead, he went to check his e-mail.

The computer prompted him with a loud, cheery “You Got Flan!”

Shiz blinked. “What the Lanzer is wrong with you?” he shouted. “A grammar error and a dessert? That’s it! I’ve had it! I’m not going to use AOHell anymore! I’m switching to real internet!”

He swiveled his chair around and, from the sight before him, nearly fell off it.

Sitting on his table was a flan. It was still steaming.

Cautiously, he approached it. He poked it. It acted like a flan: in otherwords, it did nothing except look delicious. It seemed that if it had a mouth, it would be calling to him. It had his name on it. Literally, apparently, for on the surface his name was written delicately in what looked like whipped cream.

Deciding not to look a gift flan in the crust, he went to get some utensils to consume it. He walked past his kitchen window and-

BLAM

The window shattered and the pieces clattered to the ground. Shiz whacked himself against his kitchen counter as he fell with a bullet in his head: Counter Strike 2.

The flan was merely bait to lure him into the sniper’s range.


KingShoy has been jailed and Ho` Shiz has been shot.

#14 for #53.

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73 Votes 39

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#28 votes for #75... #39.

#39 for 20. domokun

Edited.

Alain, #37, accuses Bullet Rift, #39, of being the Sniper.