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DAY 17:

“Dying in packs… it’s all coooool…” Gladys said. “Kool Aid guy, Bubonic Plague sufferers… yeah, we’re all gonna be partyin’ haaaaaaaaard…”

Ginji raised an eyebrow. “Sooo… people have been dying in jail? Did the Manipulator do it?”

“Naaaaaaaah… I don’t think sooooooo…” Gladys slurred. “But idk. My bff… Jill!” she snicked.

“And… no one’s doing anything? You’re all just… chilling, did you say?”

“Cheah!” Gladys said unintelligibly.

“Sin? Do you know what she’s saying?”

Sin shrugged. “Seems you, me, and Spork are the only sane people around here. I guess if we don’t catch the killer pretty quickly, either we’re all gonna die or go crazy.”

“We should wake them up…” nodded Spork. “May as well make sure everyone’s alright…”

The task of rolling over bodies began. Soon, Ginji gasped in muffled disgust as he found Ismaru the windsoul to be dead in his cot.

Sin laughed, but this was interrupted by the sound of her stomach growling. “So… hungry…”

“Wait, when do we get food, anyway?” asked Ginji. “I’m starved.”

“That’s the thing…” Sin said sadly. “We haven’t been getting regular portions lately. I’m not sure the warden’s still around…”

She looked at Ismaru’s body and shrugged. “Well, they did it in other games, why not this one?”


Aine skipped to her home, cackling in delight. She had done rather well for herself that day, stabbing five people! Of course, she had pretty much just made a stabbing motion and ran away giggling as bystanders said, “…Okay…”, but that didn’t matter to her. Five people!

Little did poor Aine know that soon she would be deceased. With no G-Team to stop them, the Manipulator cheerfully took over her body and went to town!

Grabbing a recipe book, they carefully flipped to the pastries and pies section. “Aine Pie is soooooo 2006…” they flipped their hair and turned the page.

Aine fudge? …Nah.

Aine brownies? How lame.

Aine cake? Hahaha no.

As they paused to think of the different people they had killed, they got a brilliant idea. “Aine muffins! …No, cupcakes.”

For the next few minutes they busied themselves with their cooking. Blood frosting, little chunks of fingernail and other unsavory bits, eyeballs for eggs… one hour later, they were done!

Though Aine may have had her eyes gouged out and her leg split open, she was far from dead. At this point, they decided to go over to the jail with some fresh-baked Aine muffins! What a lovely treat for the little imposters!

They hid in the darkness so no one would notice Aine’s gouged face. Once they arrived, they opened the door wide and lifted the tray. Sin, Ginji and Spork gasped in horror as the Manipulator balanced the tray on Aine’s knee, took out a knife, and slit her throat.

Aine was conscious for one moment before slipping away… all she could feel was blood trickling down her shirt and a terrible absence where her eyes had been.

Not so much later, a cloaked figure came into the jail. They silently counted the bodies and shut the door. As they walked away, heels clicking on the floor, they slipped off their gas mask and threw it away.


Ginji was jailed, Aine was killed.

DAY 19:

“Whatever’s going on, it’s getting worse,” explained Merriweather, her eyes downcast. “Now two days of jail time knocks you out. Just you and I, I guess…” she fell silent.

Otakkun took a deep breath. “Where is everyone?”

“Everyone’s dead.”

“…Oh.”

“Except for Gladys and Sin. Gladys doesn’t seem to be as affected; she wakes up each day for about thirty minutes. Then she goes back to sleep.”

“What happened to the bodies? From what you’ve told me, this place isn’t exactly well maintained.”

“I don’t know. Someone takes them. I’d like to say that they bury them. In individual graves, you know…”

Otakkun sat down on one of the beds. Merriweather sat down next to him and drew her knees up near her chin, sighing.

“So… I guess that this is pretty much it. Tomorrow I’ll be gone, and the next day you will. I never thought I’d be in this sort of a situation. If they catch the killer, shoot the b*****d.”


That sunny afternoon, the Manipulator was having a cheery old time surfing /b/.

They laughed and lost, said “gtfo newfag” over and over, and spammed Rosie O’Donnel pictures while refusing to aid Dial Soap. All of a sudden, they spotted a rather dapper depiction of a young girl whose limbs had been chopped off. Her eyes were also freakishly huge, yet our killer knew this to be the way of animu and skipped off to do their job.

The population was shrinking, and so our hero (felon?) took no time at all to choose Return of Watanuki San to be their kill for the day.

And how Ret put up a fight when confronted with the idea of being killed in a rather painful way! Yet our killer took over her body, opting to feel no pain, and down they went into the dark basement to do grisly deeds.

First, a scrollsaw! Oh, what a handy tool it turned out to be as Ret’s left arm was severed from her body. The Manipulator opted to use a tablesaw to remove her legs, scooting Ret’s body along. Whoops! Our killer hit an artery! What a shame, what a shame as blood spurted from the gaping wound. At this point they knew they had done their job and fled to /b/.

Ret died, Otakkun was jailed, lurk moar.

GAME 21:

“…Hello?” called oxKuroxKasumixo. “Helloooooooo…”

She walked across the empty cell, a bit scared. After a moment or two, she noticed Gladys’ sleeping form. She went hurriedly over to her and shook her body.

Gladys sat bolt upright, her eyes wide and red and mouth open in a silent scream. Kuro shrieked and stepped backwards, and Gladys’ head turned towards her. Silently, tears began trickling steadily from both of the older woman’s eyes, not drops but a steady flow. Kuro watched in horror, her hands covering her mouth.

Gladys’ eyes were leaking an alarming amount of water. Kuro watched in amazement as pools began to form on Gladys’ sheets. Slowly, a bit of red was introduced to the flow and began to increase. Gladys, having apparently run out of tears, was crying blood.

Kuro shrieked. Gladys’ tears and blood seemed to not be coming from her tear ducts… there was too much for that. As the older woman’s eyes steadily leaked out her blood, her face became deathly pale. All the while, her mouth remained open and her eyes bulged. She looked like a corpse.

All at once, her mouth snapped shut and so did her eyes, which stopped leaking. Gladys had imparted to Kuro the nature of her sleep.

Kuro stayed on a bed, sobbing. What had happened? What was wrong with that woman? …What would happen to her?


The sniper game was dead.

No one ever left their homes save to vote. All curtains were snapped shut, save for the pitifully empty windows of homes which belonged to the dead. The people of the SG knew of the danger, knew that the killer was unseen and unstoppable, and still they took a last pathetic stand against the dreaded Manipulator.

It didn’t work.

Kitty Krazy was asleep in her bed, warm and comfortable, when the Manipulator stole her body away. Silently, they walked Kitty’s body into the kitchen, where they slit her throat. Warm blood gushed for a moment, spilling over her hands, before all went black and the Manipulator slipped silently away.

They went into the kitchen, poured a glass of wine, retreated to their room and hid their head in their hands.

Though they knew what they were doing was right, a seed of doubt was in the back of their mind.

How could killing be right?

DAY 23:

“Well… that’s that…” sighed Hirun Hikari.

“Yeah…” Wrendwraith said, walking away from the jail with Hirun.

They walked in awkward silence for a short time. “So… Sylfaen was the Manipulator?“

Hirun let out a deep breath. “I guess so.”

They went to their respective homes, not sure what to do next.


Not long after, Hirun sat down on the edge of his bed with a dilemma.

Wrendwraith was his friend, but she was one of them. It would be hypocritical to do this much damage without finishing the job, and after all she had gone along with the plan without protesting. She was no better than the rest of them.

So Hirun got up and placed his hand over his heart, muttering strange words. He took control of Wrennie.

After some minor convulsions, Hirun was in control. He retreated to Wren’s backyard, where he gathered up a bundle of small, sharp sticks and went back to Wren’s home. He went up to her attic, where he retrieved a gas can and some matches. He poured gas over the counter, through the living room, bathroom, bedroom and guest room, then grabbed the bundle of sticks.

He shoved two in each eye, then went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. He carved “HIRUN HIKARI WAS HERE, LULZ” into her belly, then lit a match.

He stayed with her body until he felt her fade away; her death may have been necessary, but she didn’t need to be in pain.


Sylfaen had at last picked the lock.

“Aha!” she cried in triumph, before kicking the door open and running free into the neighborhood. “I beat the Manipulator, I beat the Manipu-”

She kneeled over, screaming. The gunshot which was echoing through the empty homes brought her to her knees. Hirun Hikari’s bullet had entered her stomach.

He ran over to her, his face twisted in rage. “Don’t move, you b***h!” he screamed, and she moaned.

“What…” blood dribbled out of her mouth and down her shirt. She looked down in dazed alarm. “Did I do…”

“You know damn well! You all knew! You bastards killed those people in cold blood! You killed those people who came to town earlier, you killed the bum who landed himself in jail overnight, you ki-”

Sylfaen began to cry. “No, no, please, we didn’t!” she screamed, trying to hold her innards in. She brought her hands up to her face and they were covered in blood. “You don’t understand! I don’t know what you’re talking abo-”

The blood had drained from Hirun’s face. “…That new moderator.” Was all he said.

Blood spilled from Sylfy’s mouth, staining the pavement, previously wet from a recent rain, with blood. Light was draining fast from the sky.

“No! No, that can’t be it!” Hirun moaned, dropping to his knees. “The election… damn! They killed those people! It wasn’t you!” he ground his palms against his eyes. “No!”

He ran to Sylfy. “Oh God… Oh God…” he moved her hand and was surprised to see so much blood. “No! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Sylfaen tried to speak, but only a low, almost inhuman moaning sound came out. A gush of blood spilled from her mouth, flowing into her nose and eyes and drying in her hair. She was dead.



Hirun Hikari kneeled at the edge of Gladys’ cot. As he stroked her withered old hand, her breathing came fast and shallow. She squinted in her sleep, screamed, and thrashed her legs about. Hirun knew that she was near death.

“No…” he muttered. “Don’t die. Don’t leave me here alone…” he choked and swallowed, but it was too much. A tear rolled down his face. “I’m sorry… please don’t leave.”

Gladys didn’t hear. Someone else did.

A man of around sixty walked into the cold, barren cell, ignoring the glistening trail of blood on the floor which led to Hirun. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his wrinkled old face had a very sad quality to it. His mouth arched into a frown, his eyes soft and glistening. “Hello,” he said in a quiet, soft voice.

Hirun jumped and turned around. “I’m Gladys’ husband, Charles.” The man said.

Hirun hurried to his feet and brushed the dirt and blood off of his pants. He cleared his throat.

Charles knelt beside his wife. “Gladys… I don’t know if you can hear me, but we’re going home now.” Gladys’ hand made a small, spastic move but she didn’t seem to hear him. Charles sighed, got to his feet, and lifted Gladys off the bed.

Hirun knew that the woman had been pitifully thin, but he gasped despite himself to see the extent of it in full light. Gladys’ bones popped out at every opportunity, casting dramatic shadows over her wasted body. Her skin was pale and papery. Charles walked from the cell and Hirun followed.

Hirun didn’t need to ask what was wrong. Not much longer, they were walking down the middle of the street. It had just rained, and the pavement was rather wet and shining in the dim light. A few streetlamps were broken, giving Hirun and Charles little light to see by. Not long after they set out into the night, Charles went into an explanation:

“I haven’t seen my wife in a month.” He sighed. “I’ve looked all over for her; we’re not from this town. We come from the city.”

Hirun nodded as Charles went on. “Gladys hasn’t been well lately… she has been on a lot of pain medication. Very extreme pain medication. Doctors don’t prescribe this kind, but maybe they should. She has lymphoma. Here, look…” he took Hirun’s hand and pressed it against his wife’s chest. Hirun, startled, tried to jerk it away, but Charles held his hand there. “Do you feel the lump?” Hirun relaxed; he could feel it. It was pressing against his hand in a rather unnatural way… no doubt it was a tumor.

“By the time that they diagnosed it, she was too far gone. There was nothing that they could do, especially for the pain. She woke up at night and screamed and cried for hours on end, just moaning in absolute pain. No amount of pain pills would work, no morphine, no pain patch, nothing. It was terrible, and I couldn’t let my wife sit there and spend the last few months of her life in such agony. So I found a dealer.”

Hirun was looking at his feet. He nodded.

“Well, I didn’t want her to get any drugs that had been tampered with, you know, but there was nothing that I could do. I brought it home and she wasn’t happy with me, but she took it and everything got better for a while. She was happy. That was everything.”

Hirun was feeling so guilty that he couldn’t look Charles in the face.

“But after a while pot stopped working. She was up screaming at night again. I couldn’t let that happen… so even though I knew how dangerous it was, I got her some LSD. And not long after that she disappeared, and she took the drugs with her. I’ve been looking for her since.
“I’m sorry if she scared you, young man, but you may have noticed that she periodically cries blood. She has tumors in her nasolacrimal sacs, and thus a very rare condition in which blood seeps from her eyes for a period of time ranging from ten seconds to three minutes. It’s excruciating.”

Hirun nodded.

“Now, I believe that the people in charge of this town have been using LSD on the people in jail, combined lethally with some sort of gas…?”

“Yeah,” Hirun said, unable to think of anything else.

“Well, though Gladys was exposed the longest, she had obviously built up a small immunity towards LSD after a while and thus survived until cancer got the best of her. I told you about how marijuana didn’t affect her for too long, and I believe that the gas alone failed to kill her; this is cancer. Of course, I could be wrong, but it seems the most plausible.”

Hirun began to nod, but Gladys suddenly began to seize.

Charles froze for a moment, and then put her down on the wet pavement. Her soiled sick dress stuck to her back and the pavement and was hiked up past her knees, but her silver-blonde hair cast a halo around her head. Despite the years and her suddenly obvious mortality, she looked pretty in a sad sort of a way. Her seizing stopped when Charles gently lay her down. He knelt beside her and Hirun did similarly.

Charles grabbed her hand and Gladys’ eyes flew open. They were wild and dilated for a moment, but then they came to rest on her husband’s face and her face relaxed into a dazed smile. She couldn’t speak.

“It’s okay, Gladys.” Charles said, and his voice was even and sad. “I’m here now. Don’t you worry about a thing, it won’t hurt much longer.”

Gladys worked her jaw muscles and cleared her throat. Eventually she was able to say in an alarmingly soft voice, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I know, Gladys.”

Gladys smiled again. She took a shallow breath in and let it out slowly.

And made no attempt to draw another.


Hirun sat in jail, his head bowed.

He had made a mistake. He had struck in anger, believing the townspeople guilty for the crimes he had believed that they planned to commit. Hirun saw the steps towards genocide as an early warning towards catastrophe, towards a disastrous new world order in which suspected of a crime was as bad as condemned and all prisoners were promptly executed.

He was wrong. The townspeople had not been guilty, but outside forces had.


A cloaked figure hurried into the jail. They opened the self-locking door and slipped inside the one cell, a gas mask over their face.

Hirun sighed and pressed his hands against his eyes.

Gladys lay sleeping in a cell at the back, tormented and wasted.

He bashed his hand against the wall in frustration.

The figure drew a flask of water from under their cloak.

Hirun tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

They pressed it against Gladys’ lips and the woman awoke with a start.

He yelled in annoyance.

“No!” Gladys moaned. “Please… no more…”

A lone dog howled, startling Hirun into making him jump.

The figure grew angry with her. They hit her in the face, making Gladys moan and try to turn away.

He tried to focus on something else; anything else.

Hirun stood in the doorway, petrified. He wouldn’t allow another death, but he couldn’t move. He could only wonder if this was what it was like when he had killed.

He had had enough.

Suddenly, Hirun sprang into action. He tightened his grip on the knife and rushed forward, stabbing the figure again and again, knowing that this person was why he had been manipulated into killing so many and trying to do some sort of justice to those he had wronged.

Hirun climbed up onto the top bunk and tied the noose around a beam.

He dragged the body out of the cell and went to Gladys, who had fallen back into her deep sleep. He grabbed her hand, trying to soothe her, when Charles appeared in the doorway.

He jumped.