Sir Les Paul
The Duke of Chords
Drake made a comment first, but it didn't matter. Freddy answered--and with authority. Not the type of authority one attained from position or rank, either. The type that was carried out in their voice. Drake had an air of questioning--probing the situation for answers. But, Freddy? He was the answer.
And, with the words permeating the air, each device activated in a different way. One girl in the corner had her skull impaled with a dozen nails, giving her a longer, gruesome death. Two men were somehow decapitated--their heads rolling from their shoulders. Not all of them were visible, but the snaps and crushing twangs of spring-loaded metal filled the air regardless. The man that explained the rules of the game? Two rivets in his jaw flung down, ripping it open. He didn't actually die, but his jaw was broken loose and his screams lacked no agony.
This was from Freddy. This was his decision. If he thought he was going to outplay the game, he was wrong.
The air changed. Not just the smell of putrid iron, but also the quasi-mystic forces that the world was in. As if a bubble popped. While Drake and Freddy had no way of knowing, the twisted dimension they were in had shattered once the 'game' was over. Tick and Tock, the invisible game masters, had left. The little quirks of the world came back. The light sprinkle that was picking up outside. The sound of a passing car--even the odd-beat churn of its old motor. It was an odd shift; the subtler details are easy to overlook until they're gone. Like silence in the woods.
This shift was met by one other change. A code started blaring across the radio. A 10-1-3. 10 codes were used universally by cops. 10-1 codes were for meta-human or potential meta-human threats. In Gotham city, a 10-1-3 meant Jokerz sightings. Even without a radio, emergency signals were sent out. Signals Freddy no-doubt had some access to.
And, with the words permeating the air, each device activated in a different way. One girl in the corner had her skull impaled with a dozen nails, giving her a longer, gruesome death. Two men were somehow decapitated--their heads rolling from their shoulders. Not all of them were visible, but the snaps and crushing twangs of spring-loaded metal filled the air regardless. The man that explained the rules of the game? Two rivets in his jaw flung down, ripping it open. He didn't actually die, but his jaw was broken loose and his screams lacked no agony.
This was from Freddy. This was his decision. If he thought he was going to outplay the game, he was wrong.
"What an interesting development..."
"Of course I do, but--"
"They got lucky. Those Clowns won't be happy, either. They expected more time."
"Good thing. They're crazier than we are.
"Yes, but do you feel that power? Isn't it delicious?"
"Of course I do, but--"
"--I know, brother. We can't use any of it, yet.
"They got lucky. Those Clowns won't be happy, either. They expected more time."
"No doubt, but they've played our game enough they can't touch us.
"Good thing. They're crazier than we are.
The air changed. Not just the smell of putrid iron, but also the quasi-mystic forces that the world was in. As if a bubble popped. While Drake and Freddy had no way of knowing, the twisted dimension they were in had shattered once the 'game' was over. Tick and Tock, the invisible game masters, had left. The little quirks of the world came back. The light sprinkle that was picking up outside. The sound of a passing car--even the odd-beat churn of its old motor. It was an odd shift; the subtler details are easy to overlook until they're gone. Like silence in the woods.
This shift was met by one other change. A code started blaring across the radio. A 10-1-3. 10 codes were used universally by cops. 10-1 codes were for meta-human or potential meta-human threats. In Gotham city, a 10-1-3 meant Jokerz sightings. Even without a radio, emergency signals were sent out. Signals Freddy no-doubt had some access to.
