Night Seven
Conan woke to a distant patter of rain, a soft dribbling cascade of rainwater from the canopy of his companion tree was trickling veins over his muddied clothing. Holding himself to the tree at his back, Conan surveyed the landscape, looking to discern the time, be it twilight or predawn. Remarking the gantry road posts besetting the freeway to be those he saw before the collision, Conan could make out few signs to betray the accident's having ever occurred. He gaited the stretch of the highway homeward bound, following the trail of looming pylons, then, seeing the patchwork contraption pasted over the median lacuna, Conan cast his head downwards, despondently eyeing a caterpillar as it scaled the expanse of his bare calf. The caterpillar, in due time, would metamorphose and spread it's wings, but Conan, in his dejection, will remain forever trapped in his adolescence. All of his friends were dead, but he would remain, subject to the solitary persecution of a civilization in culture shock; it is, in the view of all orthodox sciences , after all, impossible for a body to resist the natural pressures of life, to resist aging. This he thought, when, from the depth of the forest at his side, Conan heard a faint, but perceptible, guttural tone, an incomprehensible dolorous utterance.
Starting manically into the forest, Conan, stumbling through shallow waterbeds, bushes and spider-webs, fell, after tripping over a thick promontory root, upon a tawny suited man. Stoically collapsed over an uprooted tree, a warm jet black handgun in his outstretched right fist, Andre Camel, gurgling, noiselessly, his own blood, had recently died. Seeing the mud coated barrel of Andre's gun, Conan looked into the moist dirt below it, making out the mottled trace of a star, surviving, by cover of forest trees, the downpoor about the town, a dying message, representing the identities of both the murderer and Conan himself; Looking then into the dead man's clutched left fist, Conan saw a torn black patch of Cloth; Andre Camel had not died of injuries from the accident, but of a skirmish with the Black Organization, who must have engineered the whole disaster!
Revolt1021 is Dead
Stumbling out into the clearing, a dazed creature, ragged of attire, was apprehended by a local highway traffic officer, still contemplating, piecemeal, his breakfast burrito.
JOAOAA Has Been Apprehended
Toei- Kogoro
Burnsama- Jodie
Maor- Genta
ElFlapper- Okamoto Kohei
Shinichi-kun- Ayumi
Winter-Sonata- Gin
Coomberlane- Sango
Vuordda- Okino Yoko
@JOAOAA - Apprehended
@I_FKN_LOVE_GANJA
Lothloran
Polychrome
@Revolt1021 - Andre Camel
Pdot19 - Ai Haibara
AA-dono
@Itachi
Simonian- Ran
Shadowchild23- Bourbon
Alquez- Wataru Takagi
ClinT- Shuichi Akai
@IMKZ
KINGUBERMENSCH- James Black
Day Eight Begin |