ROUND 1 - Going down? (LYNCH HIT) revised with proper kill

Special Agent Ethan Hill was carefully pulled from the toilet and out of the stall. Mr. Green and a few other male members of his staff carried him out into the hallway and laid him on the beautifully ornate Persian rug in front of the elevators.

A soft mewing sound escaped one of the female tellers, which was followed by someone throwing up into the planters near the water fountains. Agent Hill’s face seemed slightly…askew. His jaw was loose, sliding off to the side and opened slightly, showing off the jagged remains of his shattered teeth. The worst part of it was Agent Hill’s eyes, which were opaque and unfocused. Mr. Green unbuttoned the single button of his suit jacket and bent over. Reaching down he gently closed Agent Hill’s eyes.

The sound of pills falling onto the exquisite tile floor filled the silence. It drifted over the bent heads staring down at one dead Special Agent Ethan Hill. A few figures turned and looked at the person responsible for breaking the silence.

With a startled look, Myraan Avers looked back at the staring eyes as she dropped to her knees and began picking up her pills. Voices began to stir as she tried to focus on picking up each little pill and slamming it back into their bottle, but she kept missing as the voices grew louder and louder.

‘What the hell is going on?’

‘Was he murdered? That’s bad, right?’

‘Oh shit, oh shit, ohshitohshit…’

The calm voice of Mr. Green filtered through as Myraan’s knee came down on a pill, sending a shooting pain of irritation into her already confused and racing mind. The mob’s voice became louder and louder, echoing in her head, causing her anxiety to hit epic proportions when finally pushed the rest of the pills on the floor away from her and stood up, crushing them beneath her feet.

‘I’ve got to get out of here; I’ve got to get out of here…’

Myraan began chanting, dropping her bag, and raced to the elevator, pressing the call button red. Her finger didn’t seem effective enough and she began pounding it with the heel of her palm.


A soft, soothing voice attached to a gentle hand touched Myraan’s shoulder as she pressed her cheek against the cold stainless steel elevator doors.

‘Listen, those are offline, I think. Why don’t you step away…?’

Myraan didn’t recognize the voice but as she opened her eye, she saw another younger female with dark red hair and a gentle face.

‘I just want to leave. I just want to leave.’

Suddenly the noise in the hallway became sharp with anger and strife. Two of the men began to fight, shoving each other furiously, everyone yelling accusations. Myraan pressed back up against the elevator doors and tried to slide away, completely missing the ding of the elevator car reaching their floor.

‘Knock it off! Hey!’

It was the red head again, pushing back, trying to keep from getting crushed against the doors along with Myraan. Finally a full on fight erupted, everyone began to push, shove, and react violently. Myraan did the only thing she knew how to do – she took a step back to get away, directly into the elevator empty elevator shaft.

The fall was quick, quicker than she expected, but the next thing she knew, she was on her back on the ground floor, thirty feet below.

‘Oh shit!’ The red head turned and yelled above everyone else. ‘Stop, STOP! She fell down in there.’ Peering into the darkness, Myraan could just see the red head’s red hair against the light of the hallway. ‘Are you alright?’

Myraan tried to sit up but a surge of pain shot up from her ribs and hips. ‘Ugh,’ she murmured painfully. ‘I think I…something’s broken, I think…’


The cable next to her twitched with deep vibration. The people yelling up top almost made it inaudible, but Myraan was positive she heard something. Reaching out, she fought back the pain and pushed herself forward to the elevator doors. They gave, but just a little.

She hadn’t landed on the elevator car, no that was hanging precariously from the fourth floor just above the red head peering out into the shaft. Whether that sound was her mind or the cable, she wasn't going to wait around and find out. Biting back the pain in her ribs, Myraan got a foot up and separated the doors just large enough for her tiny frame. Pulling herself through, she landed face first on the first floor hallway floor just as the cable snapped. All fifteen pounds of steel dropped on top of the gentle speaking girl, crushing the top half of her body and taking it down, right on top of where Myraan had just been, a half second earlier.

Two seconds later, silence filled the air again as the mob above on the third floor watched one Olivia Parker’s legs twitch, spraying those closest to the elevator doors with her warm blood.

Then of course the screaming began…again.

Mr. Green looked on in disbelief and began calculating the wrongful death lawsuit that would definitely be brought against him.

Myraan? She laid her back on the cold tile floor, gasping for breath but very much alive, albeit just barely.

ROzbeans 12 years ago
Changing it up a little - MAFIA HIT TO COME. SERIAL KILLER (omg, we have one??!!!) to follow the DAY AFTER. 3 kills a day is a lot more difficult than I thought with a 2 year old trying to thwart my every move on the computer.

Then MAFIA kill again on FRIDAY.

Gives everyone more time to vote, too.
ShutUpSara 12 years ago
"HOLY FUCK BALLS!!!" Ella shouted, covering her eyes from the horrid sight in front of her, "What happened to the other girl? Where is she? Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods..."

Running blindly, she knew she had to be anywhere but here.

It's like a video game... turn left here, run down these stairs, pick up an item... fight off the zombies.

Sounds of sobbing were coming from up ahead, and Ella realized that she was on the first floor.

The other girl! Oh gods, she might still be alive...

"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? My name's Ella... I know some first aid... oh gods, let her be okay..."

Ella rounded a corner, and saw the broken figure of the pill-girl laying on the ground.
Kilandra 12 years ago
Myraan knew she should not have left the safety of her corner, and now she was regretting it whole heartedly. Wincing, she struggled to calm her breathing, as it hurt with each quick gasp. She was hurt, fucked up bad if the pain shooting through her was any indication. The deafening sound of the mob above quickly grew quiet as the doors pushed shut once more. Though, unfortunately for her, not before she was hit with a narrow stream of blood as Olivia's body was smashed into the floor where she herself had just moments prior been.

Shock overwhelmed her system, the two xanax thankfully working a little, else she might have gone into a complete mental breakdown. She felt so heavy, so filthy, and terribly uncomfortable in her own flesh. Despite her painful injuries, she began to struggle with her coat, wanting it off, and in a hurry. Her desperate attempts made her hurt even more, now certain that at least a few ribs were broken, her head was killing her, and she felt like something else was not right, either.

It must have taken her a bit to worm herself out of her coat, because the next thing she knew, someone was calling out to her. She had no idea what she looked like, but figured it must be bad when she forced herself to look up at the woman approaching her, whose concern was quite evident.

Whimpering, she began to shake her head no, but stopped and then nodded a little. "Help me, please" Myraan whimpered, her coat still half laying atop her.

She was wearing a plum colored t-shirt atop a white long john top, the cuffs well worn and a bit ragged, stained with various paints. Her dark jeans hid the blood somewhat, but not enough, was it all from the now crushed girl, or was some of it her own? "I fell" she said, looking up, eyes pleading for help. "I hurt, oh fuck, so bad I hurt."
ShutUpSara 12 years ago
Ella swooped down, started talking to the girl.

"I'm going to take a look at you, OK? Here, put your head on this..."

Ella did a quick once-over of the girl, asking questions about what hurt where, and finally got to the big question.

"I'm going to put my hands over your stomach, ok? I need ... I need to see if you might have internal bleeding.... If it hurts, let me know right away."

Ella slowly touched over the girl's stomach, not wanting to cause the poor thing more pain.

"I don't think there's anything majorly wrong with you. We need to find something to wrap your ribs with, but they didn't poke into anything. That's good. You fell a long way.."

Ella looked at the elevator doors, the stream of blood that sprayed out in a narrow line from the doors.

"We need to get you somewhere to clean up. Can you wiggle all your fingers and toes without pain? What about your neck? As soon as I think you can move, we're getting you the hell away from this.. You need to be cleaned up, and a xanax or some pain pills or something. You need them, gods, I need them."
Wystro 12 years ago
"Everything's, going to be okay...let's keep calm, people."

Being a retired Amtrak conductor, Mr. Freeman felt the need to say something reassuring -- even if he didn't know a thing about fixing broken bodies.

"Do we have a doctor in the house? I think...ummm...I think we better all stay together. Something definitely's gone way wrong, and I think it's best if we just keep an eye on each other, if you know what I mean."

Ernest Freeman started thinking about his wife and family. He'll have an amazing story to tell if he lives to tell it.
Kilandra 12 years ago
Myraan complied, while struggling to regain some semblance of composure. That idea was pretty much blown to shit now, though. She choked back a painful sob, and wiggled her toes and fingers. Most likely she had a bad concussion and a few broken ribs, but mentally her entire world just got plunged into the hell that was normally just imaginary to her.

She winced only slightly when Ella pressed on her abdomen, then shook her head, which made her feel dizzy. "So much blood, it's everywhere! It's on me, fuck! Get it off of me!" Myraan looked up at Ella in a panicked tizzy again, as soon as the woman mentioned her pills.

~You spilled them you bitch! FUCK!! calm down. She's trying to help me, everything's gonna be okay. No it's not, why are you lying? It's all becoming real. It's all happening, we're all gonna die!~

"I don't want to die!" Myraan reached up to Ella, and grabbed her hand. Her touch was surprisingly light for someone so scared out of her mind. "I. I dropped my pills... my xanax. I... I have panic attacks, I needed them, and I was so scared I lost them all!"

She looked around as best she could, as Ella helped her to sit up, steadying her .She pushed the bloodied trenchcoat away from her with a groan of disgust, getting some of Olivia's blood on her hand. That slight bit of blood sent her into another panic, as she began to wipe her hand onto her pants. "I lost my bag! FUCK! fuck fuck fuck! It's gone, I don't know where it went! DId it fall with me? SHit! It's gone then, she's gone, isn't she? that's what this is. This is her blood!?"

With Ella's help the frantic girl was pulled up to her feet. She wobbled slightly, looked around somewhat gaining her bearings, before whispering hopelessly, "We're all gonna die...."
Wystro 12 years ago
"What is Xanax? Some rap group? Somebody get this girl a stiff drink -- that'll calm her down."

Ernest peered over his white, bristly mustache. His eyes softened as he looked down upon Myraan's battered form. He then placed a work-worn hand gently on her shoulder.

"Everything's going to be alright, sweetheart. You're going to live. Everything will be okay." He sounded slightly doubtful.
ShutUpSara 12 years ago
"It's gonna be ok. Everything's gonna be fine," Ella murmured to herself as much as anyone else, "Let's get you cleaned up, OK? We'll find your stuff, and you'll be all cleaned up, and everything will be better."

She turned to the older gentleman, smiling gently and saying, "Sir, I appreciate your help, but it's mostly likely not needed in the bathroom."

Stooping down to help the smaller woman, Ella helped her walk over to the nearest bathroom, idly talking along the way.

"... And that's how I left the circus. I just couldn't throw knives anymore... not after what happened to Lester. The circus leader was an old Ruskie, he didn't like me leaving. Tried to slit my throat. Heh... that didn't end well for either of us. I got a lovely scar and a coma, he's in jail somewhere in Texas-"

Ella stopped suddenly, realizing that in her mindless chatter, she told this woman, this stranger, one of her deepest, darkest secrets.

Laughing nervously, Ella cleared her throat, "Well.. we're here. Let's get you washed up!"

She deposited the woman on the countertop, Ella looked around the room for anything made of cotton. In one of the cabinets there was a small first aid kit, complete with an ace bandage and a piece of cotton for a sling.

"Ummm.. This is awkward.. I need you to take over your shirt.. so I can wrap your ribs."

Ella turned away again, allowing the woman some privacy. When she was done removing her shirts, Ella again turned to mindless chatter as she wrapped the bandage tight.

"So, what's your name? And your story, if you don't mind me asking. I looove your ink, that must have some story behind it."
Kilandra 12 years ago
Oddly enough, what many might have gotten agitated with, Myraan found a quiet comfort in the woman's ramblings. It gave her something to focus on, and kept her in reality, not trapped within a frantic mind that was in complete chaos, trying to piece together just what had happened to her in such a short span of time.

She was polite enough to tell the older gentleman what exactly xanax was in a short gasped blurb as she was helped away.

Undressing was not an easy task, both physically and emotionally, but she managed, pulling off her plum t-shirt and then her white longjohn undershirt, folding both ever so slightly and setting them aside.

Myraan was a very shy girl. She didn't seem to match the body she had created for herself, indeed nearly every inch of her covered in a wonderfully elaborate display of brightly colored tattoos. While intricate and comprised of several varying scenes, it all some how fit, and flowed, creating a delicate curl about her body, the carrier of her tale a flying dragon. She hoped the woman didn't look too carefully, lest she be bothered by some of the more graphic tattoos. Myraan told her story through them, and wore them as reminders, some as badges of honor for surviving a less than desireable past.

Pulled once more from her seclusion, she managed a weak smile, even through her wincing as she was bound, the pain once more tearing through her body and mind. "I'm Myraan. Like the sauce, I guess." She shrugged slightly, blushing at the familiarity that she would have otherwised detested.

She wanted to wring her hands, it was a sort of comfort thing, as well as one of the ways she hid her OCD-ness. She had been through hell to regain herself, intense psychotherapy to put a stop to constant ticks, counting, rituals and the like. And while she would not openly admit it, she was proud o fherself. Though, it didn't do her much good when thrown into a situation like this. Her panic disorder reared its ugly head with a vengeance today.

"Thanks. I mean, thanks for the compliment." It hurt to talk, but she felt it was the least she could do, since the woman had so generously helped her out thus far. "Yes, there are stories, in each one. I didn't like who I was, felt.. wrong some how, so I tried to make me... me. I guess. ... I don't know if that makes sense. Sorry." She inhaled sharply as the bandage was put on, secured, letting out a quick, and loud, "FUCK!" as she hissed.

"Sorry. it just hurts. My head hurts too. I can't believe this is happening. Any of it. I don't understand." Pursing her lips, she looked down at her hands, clenched tight against her thighs. "My story, huh? Not much to tell. My dad sent me here to live, got me a nice place, where I can be and just... draw and paint. Trying to go to school, but I just don't fit in. Never fit in." She wiggled her toes as she always does, only this time it felt wrong, like muscles were not working as they should, so she forced herself to stop, and began counting in her head instead, counting tiles on the floor, the specks in the marble as she continued, distractedly so.

"I'm an artist. Or at least that's what people tell me. I just do what feels right, and it gets things out of my head at least. I really need to find my bag... damn it! I'm so stupid!"