TORN

It's like all the air has been knocked out of your lungs. You retrieve your flask again and lift your headpiece. ...No, you know what? Fuck it. You rip the headpiece off and down the rest of your flask's contents. It burns like nothing you've felt before, but in a moment, your thoughts become muddled and your surroundings distort. Then the numbness sets in. [[It won't be enough to prepare you for what's coming next.|BBADBclimax]]

A glint of a strange color catches your eye. Really, it was only by analogy that you thought of it as a color at all. A sickly and piercing light. As your inebriated eyes adjust to the shadow coming in to view before you, it lets out a gurgling hiss, before straightening up to reveal its terrifying form to you, as if it was showing off. Oh, yes. THE GOOD FATHER will expose all of himself to you and it will be glorious. Your mind shuts down as it begins to comprehend the abomination before you, and what it intends to subject you to. [[A twisted corpse with a flayed face and a tongue the size of its body. A demonic mockery of the human form.|FATHERTOM]]

Before you have a chance to respond, Edith's face contorts in to an inhuman grimace. She lunges at you, her incorporeal form passing through your body. Your heart stops immediately and you collapse to the floor. When your spirit awakens, Edith is waiting with you, her face still warped in to the strange grin. [[There's somebody else waiting for you, too.|Gameover2]]

There's the shifting of hydraulics, a blast of compressed air. With a jolot of recoil, a large wooden stake, carved to a perfect point blasts forth from the piledriver. It plants itself directly in the wretched devil's chest, deep enough to stick out its back. Its warped limbs spasm and crack as it shrieks, the glowing eye growing. His form is overtaken by the brilliant not-colors, the noise crescendoing to deafening levels. You desperately tear off your mask and put your hands to your ears, until all it once, it's over. "You did it, Teddy. I knew you could. He did, too." [["'He?' Who are you talking about?|TFclimax]]

There's the shifting of hydraulics, a blast of compressed air. With a jolt of recoil, a large wooden stake, carved to a perfect point blasts forth from the piledriver. It plants itself directly in the wretched devil's chest, deep enough to stick out its back. Its warped limbs spasm and crack as it shrieks, the glowing eye growing. His form is overtaken by the brilliant not-colors, the noise crescendoing to deafening levels. You desperately put your hands to your ears, until all it once, it's over. Father Tom can't haunt you anymore. You catch your breath. Edith looks at you, and you sense pity in her eyes. "It won't change anything. It was too late," she laments. "I know it won't." "We couldn't have done anything back then either. We were kids," Edith opines, "It's... good to see you again, Teddy, but go. This place should just be forgotten." "I know we couldn't," you say, offering another sympathetic smile of reassurance, "but I have another idea for this place. One that ought to set you free." "What do you mean?" Your eyes turn to a nearby storage closet, that the art classes used to use. [[That's where they used to keep the mineral spirits.|Tdenouement]]

As you descend in to the boiler room, an aura of malevolence drapes itself around you like a cloak. Something is very wrong here, but you've come too far to go back now. When you get to the bottom of the stairs, you set Edith's cooler aside for a moment, and sit atop it to take a breather. [[You're overcome with an intense wave of fatigue.|BBADBbuildup]]

[[Then it's time to wake up.|Wakeup]]

But before you know it, the car comes screeching to a halt. An old bar you used to know. Still there, somehow. The first place to start looking. You exit the vehicle, taking special care to unbuckle Edith's cooler. With the cooler in your arms, you duck to fit your headpiece through the car door. "I got another pickup in about 2 minutes, man," the driver interjects, "get a move on." "And hey, rate me at least 3 stars. I become company property and they stop paying me if it falls below 2," he added. "I was unconcious the entire trip. I have no idea how you did," you responded in an attempt at reassurance. "...Just do the rating thing, asshole," he retorted. "...I'll tip you, too," you stammer, eliciting a snort. "Nobody does that shit anymore," the driver declared, before speeding off in to the night. He was right. You weren't going to tip him. You're not doing the rating thing, either. [[You sold your phone after you ordered the RIDEX, after all.|bartransition]]

(if: $btState is "terse")[ You silently rise from your stool and pick up Edith's cooler. The man pays you no attention as you walk out. ] (else:)[ "Thanks for letting me rest here a moment," you say as you rise from your stool and pick up Edith's cooler, before adding "...sorry I didn't order anything." The man chuckles. "Pay it no mind. Not like we're hopping at this hour anyway," he reassures you, "Take care, friend." His earnest words fill you with a dull warmth as you step out in to the night air. ] [[Time to move on.|fuckfacetransition]]

You find the bunker's hatch in the back of a utility closet, where you'd expect it to be. Neither boarded nor locked, just a few heavy boxes on top. You and a nearby pallet jack make short work of it. It's rusty, but you're able to wrench the hatch to the bunker open. An inky blackness awaits you. You pull a small handheld flashlight from the interior pocket of your jacket in preparation. [[Arrête! C'est ici l'empire de la Mort.|greerbunktransition]]

(set: $Armed to true) You delicately lift the device out of the duffle bag, the weapons clattering as you do so. The device appears to be a weapon of some kind, too; two barrels, one operated by a pullstring and the other by a pneumatic lever system. You consider [[examining it|piledriverdescription]] to get a feel for its mechanics, as you strap it to your back. (link: "You decide you've fiddled around with it enough.")[ (goto: "founddufflebag") ]

You pick up the bundle of papers and give them a cursory glance. From the diagrams, it appears to be a manual on how to operate the device. Convenient. (if: "psychokiller" is not in $memory)[ (link: "Examine the pages.")[ (set: $informed to true) (goto: "readmanual") ] (link: "You know what? Just wing it from here.")[ (goto: "greerbunkhub") ] ] (else:)[ (link: "You think you need a manual to know how to kill something? Move on, Teddy. You've got this, you glorious animal.")[ (goto: "greerbunkhub") ] ]

Your stomach drops. You recognize what you're seeing perfectly, but you can't comprehend it. It's your little sister, just as she was when she was thirteen. Edith turns to you, saying nothing. Her eyes are hollow pits of sorrow, her form gaunt and ephemeral beneath a swirling cloak of grey-green mist. She's floating about half a foot off the ground. The leg you took fades to oblivion. You've never been superstituous, but after Edith called and asked for her leg back, you began to doubt things. You're able to recognize that this is not her body. She lifts a bony arm, pointing to the duffle bag under the cot, her gaze still fixed to yours. [[After a moment, her specter dissipates.|greerbunkhubtrans2]]

It stood at a shocking height, but looked as if its limbs had been stretched in to near-breakage, rather than growing that way. Its one eye bombarded your psyche with light hued with not-color. As it closed in on you, you recognized why it only had the one eye. Though the rest of his form was shattered, broken, and twisted in to something that resembled his soul, you could see the mask of humanity, still, right where you caved the eye in. Weeping blood, the face of FATHER TOM was the face before you now. You stagger to your feet in a desperate attempt to flee, but it is far too late for that now. Its wretched tongue lashes out like a whip, dragging your body to the floor, and in seconds, the wretched thing is mauling you with gleeful brutality. [[Your memories leak out of your skull each time it slams your head to the ground.|Gameover]]

TORN by Gwendolyn Frymier [[Have another go?|Restart]]

(link: "Proceed?")[ (if: $memoryCount >= 5 and $Armed is true and $informed is true and $nohope is true and "killer" is in $memory)[ (goto: "TORN") ] (else-if: ("killer" is not in $memory and "psychokiller" is not in $memory) and ( ($Armed is false and $informed is false and $nohope is false) or $memoryCount < 5 ) )[ (goto: "Bit by a Dead Bee") ] (else-if: $Armed is true and $informed is true and $nohope is false)[ (goto: "Together Forever") ] (else:)[ (if: "killer" is not in $memory and "psychokiller" is not in $memory)[ (goto: "Bit by a Dead Bee") ] (else:)[ (goto: "Together Forever") ] ] ]

As you cross the veil, the boiler room starts to pulse with a carmine hue. FATHER TOM is still beating you, tearing at you with twisted claws until your limbs are hanging on by tendons. You're long dead, but you feel every second of it. And you will, forever, Teddy. Before your mind snapped, when you saw the pale grimacing Jester-face? Well, that's pretty much my guarantee. [[Bit by a Dead Bee.|FalseEnding]]

TORN An interactive horror short story by Gwendolyn Frymier This experience contains descriptions of unspeakable violence towards the innocent, in addition to graphic violence with blood and gore and various heavy themes. Discretion is advised. [[Continue?]]

The air tastes of metal. Remarkable how much blood blunt force trauma can produce. (if: not $murderHubSearched)[ (link: "Poke around.")[ (set: $murderHubSearched to true) (goto: "searcharea") ] ] (else:)[ (if: not $murderHubRecheckUsed)[ (link: "Head on straight, Teddy. Anything you might have missed?")[ (set: $murderHubRecheckUsed to true) (goto: "pointless") ] ] ] (if: $murderHubSearched)[ (link: "Get the fuck out of here. Now.")[ (goto: "Destination3") ] ]

(restart:)

"Read the sign, bro," the kid responds helpfully. "I did," you retort, "it's word vomit." The kid rubs his temples with exaggeration. "Look, man," he mumbles, "it's like, a place for the legal drugs. Is there anything I can get for you?" [['Can I see behind the counter?'|Shoptree1A]]

The kid's brow furrows again with worry. Seems this bitch with guns has clout here. "Okay, yeah, man, we haven't touched her stuff. If you're looking to pick up the shit she left down there, go ahead." [['So you'll let me behind the counter?'|Shoptree2a]]

The kid laughs. "The fuck are you talking about, tough guy? Fuck you. Get out of here before I call the cops." "No, fuck //you//," you snarl back, "you don't understand any of this shit. Let me in the back. Now." [[A familiar, irritating ringing invades your ears.|shoptree4a]]

"Same business," the kid retorts immediately. "Different owners, though. Made some deal on all the merch and the sign, so they didn't even have to change anything." "...I fucking hate living here," the kid confesses unprompted. [['I see.'|shophub]]

"...What? No." [[Fair enough.|shophub]]

"I mean," the kid stammers, "whatever." "Not like I get paid enough for this shit anyways," you notice him add under his breath. He unhooks the chain keeping you from behind the counter, and gestures for you to step through. "In the back. There's a hatch in the utility closet." [['Myself and the bitch with the guns thank you for your cooperation.'|shoptree2b]]

The kid looks at you like you have eight heads, before producing a mocking scoff. "What? I'm not just gonna let you behind the counter, man. No deal." "Look," you retort, an attempt to negotiate, "it's late as shit and you don't have anything better to do. Can you just let me behind the counter?" The kid looks at you like you've grown eight more heads. [[Readjust course, sailor.|Shoptree3a]]

An irritating ringing invites itself in to your ears. A familiar one. Your eyes drift to an object on the counter. Did someone have to change a tire recently? ...Doesn't matter. [[Imagine what it would be like to bash the kid's brains out.|killer]] [[Bash the kid's brain's out.|psychokiller]] [[...What the fuck, Teddy? Focus.|shoptree3b]]

"..No, I'm sorry," you stammer. "I'm not gonna do anything, I swear." "Yeah, I know," the kid replies, nonchalantly. You notice a familiar exhaustion in his eyes, before he clarifies, "I wasn't gonna do shit either. Just get the fuck out of here or stop talking shit." [[That could've gone better.|shophub]]

"Like, a few months, I think. I was hired a couple of weeks ago. The building's been around a little while,, I guess, " he shrugs, "one of those shells that the real estate magnates rent out to whoever can afford it and put up with this shit." "I don't really care," he admits, "I just needed the job." [['So what was it before?'|Shoptree 5a]]

The kid's smile falters and his face flashes with confusion. "Uh, sure. I guess so." [[You're a titan of rhetoric, Teddy.|shophub]]

A glint of a strange color pierces your eye. Really, it was only by analogy that you thought of it as a color at all. A sickly and piercing light. It stood at a shocking height, but looked as if its limbs had been stretched in to near-breakage, rather than growing that way. Its one eye bombarded your psyche with light hued with not-color. Though the rest of his form was shattered, broken, and twisted in to something that resembled his soul, you could see the mask of humanity, still, right where you caved the eye in. Weeping blood, the face of FATHER TOM was the face before you now. But you came prepared. With the piledriver affixed to your wrist, you jerk the ripcord. The boiler room briefly lights up in brilliant colors as a payload of mercury is released. It sprays across FATHER TOM'S twisted body, and the specter lets out a piercing screech as its skin is singed by the quicksilver. The glowing eye strobed through a sequence of several not-colors, sending your head spinning You cough through the smoke and attempt to get your bearings. Fire the stake, quick. [[You pull the lever.|BYEBYETOM]]

Edith twitches backwards, further in to the darkness. "Edith? What's wrong?" Your eyes turn to a twisted shape emerging from between some piping. It gurgles and twitches. "He's still here, Teddy. He's coming." You smile in the direction of her specter, and you feel like she's reassured. "Don't worry. I got your message in the bunker." You unstrap the piledriver from your back and affix it to your hand. "You'll protect me with that?" you feel you hear her say. "Sure will, sis." [[Lock and load.|TFRA]]

"There was already somebody here, Teddy," Edith explains, "After Father Tom killed me, he introduced himself. Checked up on me." "Who? What are you talking about?" "Somebody wonderful, Teddy," Edith continues, "He had the most amazing powers. He let me do whatever I wanted to Father Tom's soul. You'll meet him soon, and then we can be together again." [[Together Forever.|BYEBYETED]]

You descend in to the boiler room with stony determination, dragging the cooler behind you. Your heart drops to your stomach as you pass by where you found Edith shoved away all those years ago, but you press on. Eventually, you come to a stop and put the cooler down. "Edith?" you call out. "It's me. It's Teddy. I got your message." You wait for her to appear. [[Soon, she does.|Tbuildup]]

A glint of a strange color pierces your eye. Really, it was only by analogy that you thought of it as a color at all. A sickly and piercing light. It stood at a shocking height, but looked as if its limbs had been stretched in to near-breakage, rather than growing that way. Its one eye bombarded your psyche with light hued with not-color. Though the rest of his form was shattered, broken, and twisted in to something that resembled his soul, you could see the mask of humanity, still, right where you caved the eye in. Weeping blood, the face of FATHER TOM was the face before you now. Piledriver affixed to your wrist, you deftly release the firing lanyard. The boiler room briefly lights up in brilliant colors as a payload of mercury is released. It sprays across FATHER TOM'S twisted body, and the specter lets out a piercing screech as its skin is singed by the quicksilver. The glowing eye strobes through an iridescent sequence of several not-colors, sending your head spinning You cough through the smoke and attempt to get your bearings. Fire the stake, quick. [[You grip the release lever with a firm confidence.|BYEBYETOM2]]

Appearing as she did before, her eyes look on you with great sorrow. "Teddy? What are you doing here?" Edith's specter whispers in a hushed, reverberating tone, "It's not safe here. Why did you come back?" "Because I got your message. You called my apartment, asking me to take your leg back to where I first found it." The specter's face flashes with fear. "That wasn't me, Teddy," she urges, "I'm sorry, but you need to get out of here now. Just leave me and go." Silently, you remove your bear mascot headpiece and set it down on the cooler, your messy curls falling gracefully as you flash a reassuring smile. "I figured it wasn't. Don't worry, Edith. I'm here to get you out of this place." You are interrupted by a shifting of mangled limbs. Another familiar specter has entered the picture. But you came prepared. You unstrap the piledriver from your back and affix it to your hand. [[You turn to face the wretched fiend.|TRA]]

To your fortune, they left a good stash. You get to work, Edith watching silently as you do. First picking up a pipe wrench, you overload the boiler. The old machine groans to life and starts to shudder and bang with growing intensity. You need to do this fast. Retrieving gallon after gallon of mineral spirits from the closet, you continue to pour until the floor is entirely slick. It's even leaking in to your shoes. That should be enough; the vapors are making your head start to spin. One more thing occurs to you before you leave. [[You approach the discarded cooler and your bear headpiece.|TendingTrans]]

As you descend in to the boiler room, an aura of calm washes over you. You're about to be reunited with Edith, and there isn't anything you want more in the world. You take a moment to give her cooler a loving pat before continuing down in to the blackness. When you get to the bottom of the stairs, you set her down for a moment. Perhaps you should try calling out to her? "Edith?" you call out, "it's me. It's Teddy. I brought it back. The leg." A spirit, now familiar, manifests itself to you. But she makes you feel comforted, now. You aren't sure why it scared you at first. It's just your little sister. She turns to you, and you feel like she's smiling. The apparation here is stronger, more opaque than the one in the bunker. The cooler rattles for a moment, and her left leg slowly fades back from its ethereal stump. "Thank you, Teddy," you feel like you hear, "I love you." [[You approach the specter, unafraid.|TFbuildup]]

True Ending: TORN Alpha 0.291 by Gwendolyn Frymier [[//fin.//|playtimesover]]

You wake with a serious crick in your neck, your head having been bobbling about the enclosed space of your bear mascot headpiece as you rested against the backseat window of your RIDEX. Your head is throbbing and you can't keep your hands from shaking. Instinctually, you reach for the [[engraved tungsten flask|flask]] of mineral spirits that you keep in your inner jacket pocket and lift your headpiece enough to expose your mouth take a desperate mouthful. The burn is indescribably bad, despite your GI tissue reinforcements, and you feel a sharp pain in your synthetic liver, but in a moment, the fog in your head lifts. Your eyes immediately snap to the portable cooler strapped in to the seat beside you. Doesn't seem to have been disturbed, but you've been out cold since you left Memphis. The driver is eyeing you with blatant suspicion. You eye him back, unseen, beneath black, felted eyes. [[Some thoughts occur to you as to how to pass the time.|drivesequence]]

"No, sir," the man replies, "hasn't been a Loyola working here in fifteen years. This place is owned by some realtor magnate these days." He shrugs as he wipes a glass. "Popular enough in the neighborhood that they didn't change much, though. And it keeps me payed, so I can't complain much." (link: "'I see.'")[ (goto: "barscene") ] (link: "'My Dad used to come here when it was Loyola's. So who are you?'")[ (goto: "barA2") ] (link: "'My Dad used to blackout at Loyola's nearly nightly. He'd beat my mother, too, until her prayers were answered and his liver gave out.'")[ (set: $btRudeCount to $btRudeCount + 1) (if: $btRudeCount >= $btRudeLimit)[ (set: $btState to "terse") ] (goto: "rudesubtrans") ]

The man chuckles. "Luis Alonso," he replies, setting down a glass and walking over from across the bar to you, "and you, friend?" He extends a hand in greeting, which you accept. "Teddy." He can't help but chuckle again, but it feels more warm than mocking. "Fitting. Pleased to meet you, Teddy." (link: "His handshake is firm and calloused.")[ (goto: "barscene") ]

"That specific address doesn't ring a bell," he admits, "but Jacob's is just down the road. That part of town hasn't been residential in almost a decade, though. Any house that was there has probably been torn down and replaced by a corner store." Hm. A setback. (link: "'Right. Thanks.'")[ (goto: "barscene") ] (link: "'Listen, you might not be able to answer this. But do you know if any new construction disturbed anything beneath the surface?'")[ (goto: "barB2") ] (link: "'This whole fucking country has gone to shit.'")[ (set: $btRudeCount to $btRudeCount + 1) (if: $btRudeCount >= $btRudeLimit)[ (set: $btState to "terse") ] (goto: "rudesubtrans") ]

"Well, you're right that I can't help you there for sure," the bartender admitted, "but if I had to guess? If there was anything below the building site, the contractor probably just boarded up the entrance and built on top of it." This brings you a sense of relief. The bunker might still be there. You might be able to fulfill Edith's promise after all. When she called, it was terrifying. She died thirteen years ago, after all, and she knew you had kept her leg. But she understood. She appreciated it. In the darkest times in your lives, when your mother's paranoia resulted you both locked in a bunker for days on end, you had been each other's rock. And now, you're coming home, Teddy, to reunite your dear sister with her emancipated limb. So you can be together again. (link: "Together forever.")[ (set: $memoryCount to $memoryCount + 1) (set: $memory to $memory + (a:"home")) (goto: "barscene") ]

"...Right," the bartender responds, chuckling awkwardly. "Well, just let me know if there's anything I can get for you." (link: "Seem to have struck a nerve. Be a little more personable.")[ (goto: "barscene") ]

"I'm aware, friend," he replies, raising his hands in mock surrender, "and I wasn't intending any offense. Just making a remark." (link: "'Okay.'")[ (goto: "barscene") ] (link: "'Sorry. It's a comfort thing.'")[ (goto: "barD2") ] (link: "'You shouldn't make unsolicited remarks.'")[ (set: $btRudeCount to $btRudeCount + 1) (if: $btRudeCount >= $btRudeLimit)[(set: $btState to "terse")] (goto: "rudesubtrans") ]

The man smiles. There's something comforting in it. "Say no more," he responds, "didn't mean to pry." (link: "You turn away silently. Your cheeks feel warm.")[ (goto: "barscene") ]

"...Dios mío, it's always the crazies at this hour," you catch him muttering under his breath. (link: "Act like a person, Teddy.")[ (goto: "barscene") ]

The man laughed, seemingly assuming that to be a joke. "Has anything in this country not changed in the past twenty years?" he joked back, "The entire Tupelo music scene emerged after Nashville collapsed. Surely you've heard the moniker //Nyssa Vegas//?" You had. Didn't really apply back when you were in town. A subtle change to his expression. The laugh lines settle. "Not everything, though." (link: "'I see.'")[ (goto: "barscene") ] (link: "'Like?'")[ (goto: "barF2") ] (link: "'Nevermind. This isn't going anywhere.'")[ (set: $btRudeCount to $btRudeCount + 1) (if: $btRudeCount >= $btRudeLimit)[ (set: $btState to "terse") ] (goto: "rudesubtrans") ]

"They still haven't torn down that damnable eyesore that had the nerve to call itself a school. //Diabolo Domingo//. You know about what happened there?" Oh, you knew. You were part of it. A brand new school, built to look like the fucking Duomo made out of plaster, concrete, rebar and azure glass. A low-cost Catholic academy promising traditional eduction. You and Edith weren't even Catholic, but your parents were paranoid about the way the world was turning out. Thought some "traditional education" would do you good. They never believed it when you told them that traditional education included beatings, starvation. Abuse by the staff for your Jewish heritage. They never believed Edith when she talked about the unique abuses she suffered, too. At the lascivious, twisted claws of FATHER TOM. You remember all of this, but you keep your reply short. "Yeah," you say. "Yeah, I know about it." "After all that got out, they shuttered the school, but the bedeviled place still stands," the man continued, "Like they're expecting to use it for something else." (link: "A skeleton that should not be brought back from the dead.")[ (set: $memoryCount to $memoryCount + 1) (set: $memory to $memory + (a:"SantoDomingo")) (goto: "barscene") ]

Theodore Novak Skilfosovsky. That's what they named you, after Roosevelt. Even called you Teddy, too. (link: "Always made you uncomfortable, after you learned that they named your little sister after his first wife.")[ (if: "fullname" is not in $memory)[ (set: $memory to $memory + (a:"fullname")) (set: $memoryCount to $memoryCount + 1) ] (goto: "barscene") ]

And it was a good thing, too. FATHER TOM found you after the leg was sawn off. He lunged at you when he realized what you had done, and that you knew what he had done, but you were faster. Grabbed the heaviest thing you could find. (The afformentioned pipe wrench) Caved in his temple until he stopped gurgling. Shoved his twisted carcass between the pipes, just like he did with your sister. You took the leg and fucked off. Bought the cooler at dollar general. Been replenishing the ice since. In a bunch of ways. (link: "...He's probably still down there now.")[ (if: "killer" is not in $memory)[ (set: $memory to $memory + (a:"killer")) (set: $memoryCount to $memoryCount + 1) ] (goto: "barscene") ]

Things were tough growing up. Your parents didn't make it easy. They were immigrants from Moldova, coming in to the country with nothing. Turns out, you can't fulfill the American Dream when starting out with nothing after all, and things went south fast. Your father insisted against your mother working, so they hardly ever had any money. He always considered himself a traditional Western man, after all. You were born in '17; Edith in '20. Two kids made the money problems worse. Your father took to drinking, and he'd take it out on your mother. Such an environment, combined with their increased consumption of news media produced by far-right conglomerates, fostered an atmosphere of paranoia. [[Then came the bunker.|barRemHome2]]

As bad as you thought you had it at home, school was always worse. Your heritage was Jewish and you never believed in God. That was enough for them to tear you apart. Not just your classmates, mind you. In fact, their schoolyard abuses would frankly pale in comparison to the extraordinary sadism FATHER TOM inflicted on you. And inflicted on Edith, tenfold. [[Memories of a dusty boiler room come trickling back...|barRemSchool2]]

Some things are best not to dwell on, Teddy. (link: "Stuff it down.")[ (goto: "barscene") ]

...Is what you want to say, but you remember you just did. (link: "Stay sharp, Teddy.")[ (goto: "barscene") ]

(if: $barDone)[ (goto: "Destination2") ] (if: $btState is "terse")[ The bartender silently wipes the same spot for several minutes. It seems you've overstayed your welcome. ] (else:)[ "Let me know if there's anything I can get for you," the bartender offers with another warm smile. ] (if: $btState is not "terse")[ (link: "Ask, 'So are you Loyola?'")[ (if: not $barSeenA)[ (set: $barSeenA to true) (goto: "barA") ] (else:)[ (goto: "barRepeat") ] ] (link: "'I'm looking for an address. 168 Jacobs Way. Used to be a house. Probably not anymore.'")[ (if: not $barSeenB)[ (set: $barSeenB to true) (goto: "barB") ] (else:)[ (goto: "barRepeat") ] ] (link: "'Nothing. Just sitting.'")[ (if: not $barSeenC)[ (set: $barSeenC to true) (set: $btRudeCount to $btRudeCount + 1) (if: $btRudeCount >= $btRudeLimit)[ (set: $btState to "terse") (goto: "barscene") ] (goto: "barC") ] (else:)[ (goto: "barRepeat") ] ] (link: "'It's legal in all districts of the commonwealth of Mississippi to wear fully-concealing headwear.'")[ (if: not $barSeenD)[ (set: $barSeenD to true) (goto: "barD") ] (else:)[ (goto: "barRepeat") ] ] (link: "Ignore him for now. Clear your head.")[ (if: not $barSeenE)[ (set: $barSeenE to true) (set: $btRudeCount to $btRudeCount + 1) (if: $btRudeCount >= $btRudeLimit)[ (set: $btState to "terse") (goto: "barscene") ] (goto: "barE") ] (else:)[ (goto: "barRepeat") ] ] (link: "'Been a while since I've been back in Tupelo. Things changed much in the last twenty years?'")[ (if: not $barSeenF)[ (set: $barSeenF to true) (goto: "barF") ] (else:)[ (goto: "barRepeat") ] ] (if: "SantoDomingo" is in $memory)[ (link: "Reminisce on school...")[ (if: not $barRemSchoolDone)[ (set: $barRemSchoolDone to true) (goto: "barRemSchool") ] (else:)[ (goto: "barReminisceRepeat") ] ] ] (if: "home" is in $memory)[ (link: "Reminisce on home...")[ (if: not $barRemHomeDone)[ (set: $barRemHomeDone to true) (goto: "barRemHome") ] (else:)[ (goto: "barReminisceRepeat") ] ] ] ] (link: "Time to get going.")[ (set: $barDone to true) (goto: "Destination2") ]

You step out in to the muggy late-night air. It reeks of wet cigarette ashes and last week's garbage. Pickup has been on a biweekly basis due to issues filling jobs. The bar's name shines in brilliant neon, a carmine hue-"Loyola's". Your dad would come here almost nightly. It seems that the nature of some businesses lends to them sticking around, even in turbulent times. You unzip your windbreaker and step in to the musty interior. Seems like they let people smoke in here, but you're the only current patron. The bartender greets you amicably, though his confusion at your choice of headgear still shows. An older man, in his fifties. Latino by your estimate. "Welcome, friend," he says, smiling warmly, thick mustache curling with his lips, "interesting choice of attire, if you don't mind my saying," undoubtably referring to the bear headpiece. He eyes you, but does not comment, as you set Edith's cooler on the steadiest stool. [[You take a wobbly stool at the end of the bar next to her.|barscene]]

Your head throbs. Shit. You've blocked out the memories again. Your eyes dart to the cooler. You know about the leg. You know who it belongs to. You know where to look first. But that's about it. Attempting to put the pieces together at this point gives you a piercing headache. [[Think of something else, Teddy. Quick.|drivesequence]]

"...I don't have time for this," you mumble, pushing past the kid in to the back of the store. "Hey man, what the fuck do you think..." he starts, before trailing off. "Ah, what the fuck. I don't even like this job," he says to himself, before turning his back to you. You move forward with purpose, and soon find the access hatch to the bunker. [[Tucked away like a bad memory in the back of a utility closet.|Destination3]]

You rack your addled brain for topics. "Been doing this long?" is what you settle on. "Ever since I got out of prison," he settles on. "Which was?" "Two weeks ago. Gig economy is desperate as shit," he helpfully advises. [[And so are we all.|drivesequence]]

"How the hell am I supposed to know? You don't talk and you wear that stupid fucking-" "Full head coverings are legal," you retort robotically, cutting him off. He scoffs with exaggerated effect. "Sure, asshole," he remarked, spitting tobacco in to the passenger seat, before adjusting his posture. "Look, you started getting shitfaced right after we left Memphis. Took you about an hour to knock yourself out." "You kept doing this weird jolting thing," he continued, "but if it helps, this is the first thing you've said to me in two hours." "...Thanks. It does." "Don't mention it." [[Something about his tone seemed insincere.|drivesequence]]

(if: $arrived)[(goto: "Destination")] The driver eyes you from his throne. You'll be in Tupelo soon. (link: "Make small talk")[ (set: $carActions to $carActions + 1) (if: $carActions >= $carMax)[(set: $arrived to true)(goto: "Destination")] (goto: "drivertalk") ] (link: "Watch the lights of the impending city intensify")[ (set: $carActions to $carActions + 1) (if: $carActions >= $carMax)[(set: $arrived to true)(goto: "Destination")] (goto: "lookoutwindow") ] (link: "Make sure she's strapped in firmly")[ (set: $carActions to $carActions + 1) (if: $carActions >= $carMax)[(set: $arrived to true)(goto: "Destination")] (goto: "edith1") ] (link: "Ask how long you were out")[ (set: $carActions to $carActions + 1) (if: $carActions >= $carMax)[(set: $arrived to true)(goto: "Destination")] (goto: "drivertalktuah") ] (link: "Silently attempt to get your bearings")[ (set: $carActions to $carActions + 1) (if: $carActions >= $carMax)[(set: $arrived to true)(goto: "Destination")] (goto: "brood") ]

You reach over to the seat to your left, where the cooler containing your deceased sister's leg rests, and fiddle with the seatbelt. The driver continues to eye you with silent judgement. Nice and snug. Good. [[She's not going anywhere.|drivesequence]]

You've had enough of this place for several lifetimes. You collect Edith's cooler, and make your way towards the ladder opposite of the way you came in. Releasing the hatch, you emerge back out in to the night air, behind the Kratom Vape Whatever store, next to its dumpster. You pull Edith out with you. It's time to finish this. You know where she is. It's just a mile. You walked both ways every day. [[Back to school, Teddy.|endingtransition2]]

(set: _first to ($flaskClicks is 0)) (set: $flaskClicks to (min: 4, $flaskClicks + 1)) (if: _first)[ (set: $memory to $memory + (a: "initials", "Firstname")) (set: $memoryCount to $memoryCount + 2) ] (set: _stage to $flaskClicks) (cond: _stage is 1, " Engraved with a rusty pen knife are the letters T.S. Your initials, Teddy. Not the first time you've forgotten.", _stage is 2, " ...Yes, Teddy. They're your initials.", _stage is 3, " Do you seriously keep forgetting?", _stage is 4, " ...Quit screwing around." ) [[Snap back to reality.|Wakeup]]

You examine the hefty canvas bag. There appeared to be a patch on it once that was torn off. No identifying features otherwise. The zipper catches for a moment before you're able to get it open. Huh. That is a lot of guns. Most seem to be busted, but you've never really been a firearm expert. There's a couple of lighters and a bottle opener in there, too. Among the conventional weapons is something you haven't seen before. Some sort of glove with a wrist-mounted contraption. There's also a stack of a few papers, rolled in to a tube and held together with a rubber band. (if: not $duffleSearched)[ (link: "Pick up the odd contraption.")[ (set: $duffleSearched to true) (goto: "DuffleSearch") ] ] (else:)[ (if: not $duffleSearchFurtherUsed)[ (link: "Examine the papers.")[ (set: $duffleSearchFurtherUsed to true) (goto: "DuffleSearchFurther") ] ] ] (link: "Decide you've searched this quite enough.")[ (goto: "greerbunkhub") ]

There's assorted papers, no doubt from the enigmatic squatter. Your eyes skim over them, but it's all occult and engineering notes, nothing you can make any sense of. A faded photograph in the middle of the stack. You take it out. It's a disposable camera shot of two kids in a halloween corn maze. Edith, and you. Full heads of curly hair. You flip the photo to the back. Scrawled in permanent marker by your mother's familiar hand, it reads "Novak Skilfosovsky Family Halloween 2025" (if: "full name" is not in $memory)[ (set: $memory to it + (a: "full name")) (set: $memoryCount to $memoryCount + 1) ] (if: "sister" is not in $memory)[ (set: $memory to it + (a: "sister")) (set: $memoryCount to $memoryCount + 1) ] (link: "Bit of a mouthful, but that's the family name.")[ (goto: "greerbunkhub") ]

168 Jacobs Way. An address you could never forget. You grew up underneath it. Loyola's was just down the street. You could see the sign from the bunker's periscope. That's why your Dad went there so much. The location. No houses around here anymore, though. A few vacant shells up for sale, but the city decided this was a commerce district now. As you walk past the odd vagrant asleep beneath piles of soiled blankets, you notice you're approaching your destination. You look at the building before you, unmistakeably 168 Jacobs way. A plain concrete building had been erected on the lot. A shell of sorts, so whoever could afford the lease for a few months could set up shop, operate at a massive loss and get evicted. A fluorescent sign burns itself in to your corneas; an unnatural and upsetting blue. "TUPELO 24/7 KRATOM DELTA 8 VAPE LOTTO" it reads. Bit different from when you lived here. [[You open the door. It's heavy, in an annoying way.|shophub]]

(set: $nohope to true) There's a hastily scribbled appendix affixed to the rest of the manual. "HAD TO GET OUT OF TUPELO BEFORE I WAS ABLE TO TAKE CARE OF THAT CATHOLIC SCHOOL," it reads, "HE REALLY KEEPS ME BUSY, DON'T HE? ALL FOR THE BEST. ONLY WAY TO SEAL SPIRITS WHO'VE LINGERED IN A PLACE LIKE THAT IS TO BURN IT DOWN. NOTE TO SELF: NEXT TIME IN TOWN, DO THAT." Ah. This person seems confident. "PILEDRIVER SHOULD TAKE CARE OF ANYTHING AGGRESSIVE. BURNING IT TO THE GROUND SHOULD SET ANYTHING ELSE FREE. TOO DAMN LATE AND TOO MUCH EVIL TO DO ANYTHING ELSE." ...Like Edith. You look down to the cooler with a sinking feeling. Perhaps returning the leg isn't what's best for her. Her spirit would be whole, but she'd still be bound to that awful place. You know what to do, don't you, Teddy? (link: "'I'm comin'; sis.'")[ (goto: "greerbunkhub") ]

...Again? Why? (link: "Focus, Teddy.")[ (goto: "greerbunkhub") ]

Edith's shade leaves you alone in the old bunker, leaving you to get a feel for your surroundings. Parts of the layout feel familiar, but really, your memory isn't what it used to be, Teddy. Doesn't help that it's been gutted to shit, either. (link: "Approach the fold-out table to examine the papers.")[ (if: $greerBunkDeskUsed)[ (goto: "greerbunk_alreadysaid") ] (else:)[ (set: $greerBunkDeskUsed to true) (goto: "foundphoto") ] ] (link: "Pull the canvas duffle bag out from under the cot frame.")[ (if: $greerBunkDuffleUsed)[ (goto: "greerbunk_alreadysaid") ] (else:)[ (set: $greerBunkDuffleUsed to true) (goto: "founddufflebag") ] ] (link: "You don't want to be here anymore, Teddy.")[ (if: $greerBunkMoveUsed)[ (goto: "greerbunk_alreadysaid") ] (else:)[ (set: $greerBunkMoveUsed to true) (goto: "endingtransition") ] ]

You search the shelves of the utility closet and find a length of rope. Using it, you first lower Edith's cooler in to the abyss, before positioning yourself on the rusty ladder, down in to the bowels of your youth. The mildew smell is overwhelming. You can't help but gag. Forgetting the mascot headpiece, you attempt to bring your sleeve to your nose. Shit. Guess you'll just have to put up with it. Regaining your composure, you shine your flashlight to take in your surroundings. Seems to have been gutted, for the most part. You notice an olive canvas duffle bag beneath the frame of a rusty cot. The one you slept in, if you recall correctly. There's fold-out table with some papers on it, too. [[The beam of your light catches something else.|EDITH]]

(if: "killer" is not in $memory)[ You've felt this before, haven't you, Teddy? That's why you ended up with the leg, after all. FATHER TOM had been treating your little sister Edith like a toy, until he broke her. Panicked and shoved her shattered, torn body between some pipes in the boiler room. But the leg was sticking out. And the hacksaw was there. So you took the leg, and FATHER TOM caught you. So you did him in, didn't you? Lucky to find a pipe wrench down there. Boom. Twitching and gurgling after the first blow. Boom. Not making any sounds at all after the second. This kid isn't worth it. Not like HE was. (set: $memory to $memory + (a: "killer")) (set: $memoryCount to $memoryCount + 1) ] (else:)[ You remember what you did to FATHER TOM. That same tingle infiltrates your brain stem, but you push it back down. This kid isn't worth it. Not like HE was. ] (link: "Speak, memory.")[ (goto: "Shoptree4b") ]

You look out the window through the mesh eyes of your headpiece. Even as much as it obscures your vision, the lights of the city are enchanting. Tupelo. //Nyssa Vegas//. Music city. One of the last places in the Southeast with anything resembling industry. [[Welcome home, Teddy.|drivesequence]]

(set: $piledriverClicks to $piledriverClicks + 1) (if: $piledriverClicks > 5)[ (set: $piledriverClicks to 5) ] (if: $piledriverClicks is 1)[ In your hands is a wrist-mounted pneumatic launcher built to fire sharpened blackthorn wooden projectiles. It's heavy and industrial, yet intricate. You fiddle with the machinery, in an attempt to understand the mechanisms. Check again. ] (else-if: $piledriverClicks is 2)[ (set: $locknload to true) You notice a safety switch. Good to know; something you should shut off. When it comes time to use it. But what is this barrel underneath the stake driver, with the pull string? Perhaps there's a manual for this thing. ] (else-if: $piledriverClicks is 3)[ You instinctively run your hand over the gunmetal. You feel an etching. Words. Look again to read them. ] (else-if: $piledriverClicks is 4)[ "PILEDRIVER Mk3: GREER DUNMORE PROTOTYPE," is etched in the metal with some kind of laser cutter. ] (else:)[ ...Dunmore? Like the president? But you don't recognize the first name. Must be a funny coincidence. ] (link: "Put it down, for now.")[ (goto: "DuffleSearch") ]

Your head is throbbing. The smell makes your stomach churn. You have to take the headpiece off, for just a moment, as you vomit on the floor. Once you've regained your bearings, you urgently put it back on, briefly leaving your mouth exposed to take a calming swig of mineral spirits from your engraved flask. A stabbing pain in your side, before your thoughts calm down. Thank God for synthetic livers. [[Might want to get out of here.|Murderhub]]

(if: "psychokiller" is not in $memory)[ (set: $memory to it + (a: "psychokiller")) (set: $memoryCount to $memoryCount + 1) ] "Hey man, wh-" the degenerate manages to babble before your first blow. A solid hit, Teddy! He gurgles out some blood, spits out some shattered teeth. You strike again. God. the blood. There's so fucking much blood. And you know what else? This feels good. //Familiar//. Like what you did to that twisted animal. To FATHER TOM. Before you shoved that fucking depraved animal's broken body between the pipes, like he did to your sister, after he used her all up. After you grabbed the hacksaw and took the leg. You realize you've reduced the kid's head to a pulp while you were reminiscing. You drop the tire iron with shaky hands as you rise to your feet. The kid's broken body reminds you of when you were standing above the spasming carcass of FATHER TOM, pipe wrench in hand and sticky with blood. The entire right side of his face was caved in. The eye was reduced to pulp. Don't get me wrong. Going this far on the kid was probably overkill, but FATHER TOM got his just deserts. (set: $shopLocked to true) [[You're sure he's still down there now.|Murderhub]]

You unfurl the yellowed papers. Unstapled, a stack of three. The handwriting is deliberate, blocky, and all capitalized. It reads: "GRD 2002 RECORD-MK3 PILEDRIVER. RECOIL ISSUE SOLVED; MERCURY LEAKAGE REMAINS A CONCERN. GRIP THROTTLE TO RELEASE BLACKTHORN STAKE IN TO ANY SUSCEPTIBLE ENTITY IN YOUR SIGHTS." There's a list of specs that you can't make heads or tails of, so your eyes dart down to the asterisk statement appended to the bottom of the page. "*IF TARGET INCORPOREAL, PULL FIRING LANYARD TO RELEASE 'SNAPDRAGON' QUICKSILVER BARRAGE TO RENDER CORPOREAL. THEN PROCEED AS PREVIOUSLY OUTLINED." ...Good to know in case you run in to FATHER TOM. If Edith's shade could manifest a mile away from the school, you figure HE will be down there, too. (link: "Examine the final page.")[ (goto: "further") ] (link: "No, you've got enough. Time to bring back what you took.")[ (goto: "greerbunkhub") ]

[[Restart]]

"Right..." the bartender responds tersely. [[That may have come across wrong.|barscene]]

Your head is throbbing. You don't fully grasp what you've just done. Check the register, I guess? ...Locked. Can't focus. God, there's so much blood. [[Just find the bunker, Teddy.|Murderhub]]

...This jackass probably wouldn't find the repetition charming. (link: "Focus on the task at hand.")[ (goto: "shophub") ]

(if: $shopLocked)[ (goto: "Murderhub") ] The interior is upsettingly bright. In a way that makes your ears ring. Like a thousand floodlights searing your corneas. The kid behind the counter turns too face you and lets out a mocking and obviously forced laugh. "The fuck are you wearing?" No doubt referring to the bear get-up. You ignore this comment. For now, at least. And get to the point. "I lived here twelve years ago. There's a bunker beneath this property. How do I access it?" The kid laughs again. "Look, I don't know what the fuck you're going on about, man, but I just work here," he retorts mockingly, before you notice his brow tensing up, "unless you're with that bitch with all the guns, I don't have to tell you shit." His eyes flash with worry, before his brow settles in a performance of calmness. "...So can I help you?" (link: "'...What kind of store even is this?'")[ (if: $shopOpt1Used)[ (goto: "ShopAlreadySaid") ] (else:)[ (set: $shopOpt1Used to true) (goto: "ShopTree1") ] ] (link: "'Yes, I am with the bitch with all the guns.'")[ (if: $shopOpt2Used)[ (goto: "ShopAlreadySaid") ] (else:)[ (set: $shopOpt2Used to true) (goto: "ShopTree2") ] ] (link: "'I am unacquainted with any bitches with a significant number of firearms. This property used to belong to my family, and I am aware of the on-site bunker. I wish to access it.'")[ (if: $shopOpt3Used)[ (goto: "ShopAlreadySaid") ] (else:)[ (set: $shopOpt3Used to true) (goto: "ShopTree3") ] ] (link: "'Don't be a fucking prick. I just need to see the bunker.'")[ (if: $shopOpt4Used)[ (goto: "ShopAlreadySaid") ] (else:)[ (set: $shopOpt4Used to true) (goto: "ShopTree4") ] ] (link: "'How long has this place been open?'")[ (if: $shopOpt5Used)[ (goto: "ShopAlreadySaid") ] (else:)[ (set: $shopOpt5Used to true) (goto: "ShopTree5") ] ] (link: "'Full head coverings are permitted in all settings, public and private, according to Mississippi state law.'")[ (if: $shopOpt6Used)[ (goto: "ShopAlreadySaid") ] (else:)[ (set: $shopOpt6Used to true) (goto: "ShopTree6") ] ] (if: "killer" is in $memory)[ (link: "You've got what you need. Move on.")[ (goto: "conditionalproceed") ] ]

"...Myself and the bitch with all the guns thank you..." The kid cuts you off. "Above my paygrade, man. Just get on with it." [[And so you do.|Destination3]]

You pull yourself together. "I'm not gonna touch anything. I know about the bunker and you didn't deny it. I just need to bring this cooler down there. I'll be out in less than ten minutes. Tops." [[The kid pretends to mull it over.|shoptree3c]]

"...Yeah, man, I don't know what the fuck this is about, but there's cameras back here. My boss will kick my ass if he checks the footage and sees I let some psycho in a bear mask poke around the utility closet." [[Restrategize.|shophub]]

"Alright, man, I've had enough of this shit," the kid says, reaching for the phone behind the counter, "I'm just gonna call the cops. Fuck off in the next thirty minutes and they won't bother filing a report." Your eyes are drawn to a glint of steel on the counter. That'd be nice and heavy. Did someone change a tire recently? Doesn't matter. [[Imagine what it would be like to bash the kid's brains out with the tire iron.|killer]] [[Bash the kid's brain's out with the tire iron.|psychokiller]] [[...What the fuck, Teddy? Smooth things over, NOW.|Shoptree4b]]

(set: $memory to (a:)) (set: $memoryCount to 0) (set: $carMax to 3) (set: $carActions to 0) (set: $arrived to false) (set: $flaskClicks to 0) (set: $btState to "friendly") (set: $btRudeCount to 0) (set: $btRudeLimit to 3) (set: $barDone to false) (set: $barSeenA to false) (set: $barSeenB to false) (set: $barSeenC to false) (set: $barSeenD to false) (set: $barSeenE to false) (set: $barSeenF to false) (set: $shopOpt1Used to false) (set: $shopOpt2Used to false) (set: $shopOpt3Used to false) (set: $shopOpt4Used to false) (set: $shopOpt5Used to false) (set: $shopOpt6Used to false) (set: $shopLocked to false) (set: $greerBunkDeskUsed to false) (set: $greerBunkDuffleUsed to false) (set: $greerBunkMoveUsed to false) (set: $duffleSearched to false) (set: $duffleSearchFurtherUsed to false) (set: $Armed to false) (set: $informed to false) (set: $nohope to false) (set: $murderHubSearched to false) (set: $barRemSchoolDone to false) (set: $barRemHomeDone to false) (set: $murderHubSearched to false) (set: $murderHubRecheckUsed to false) (goto: "INTRO")

He had been using her for months. A toy to enact his sickest fantasies. Until one day, he went too far. FATHER TOM broke his favorite toy. Wedged her shattered form in to the pipes of the Santo Domingo Prepatory Academy's boiler room. That's where you found her. Rigor mortis had set in, so it'd've been more than six hours ago. But the leg was sticking out, and a hacksaw was nearby. In your grief, you did the only thing that made sense to you. [[There was a pipe wrench nearby, too.|barGiveKiller]]

Shortly after your tenth birthday, your father got it in his head that there was some kind of impending disaster that would necessitate an underground survival bunker. Unfortunately, your family was living in near squalor at this point, so such a thing was out of his price range. Fortunately (for him), he won fifty thousand dollars off a gas station scratcher that very week. And what better to blow it on than a shoddy doomsday bunker? Within half a year, it was "finished" enough to live in. And that's where you went, when you weren't in school. The family home on top was an empty shell, a facade to maintain normalcy. You were all below, ready for a world-ending disaster at a moment's notice. [[Rugged survivalists.|barGiveFullname]]

Retrieving your own flask of mineral spirits, you douse the bear head in the rest of its contents. You let it fall to the floor, and it clatters as it does. The boiler's groaning grows to maddening levels of volume. Time to get out of here. Edith watches you silently as you leave the basement. You make your way back through the halls, looking straight ahead as you step out in to the rising sun. You come to a hill overlooking //Diabolo Domingo//, a hill you and Edith used to share your lunches on, and sit down. The grass feels remarkably soft. Within ten minutes, you hear the explosion in the basement. Within thirty, the building starts groaning. Within an hour, the fire had spread to the outside. Faux spires and buttresses collapsed and shattered on the ground. You run your hands through your hair, curly locks shifting between your thin, bony fingers. It feels good. You turn to your side and see Edith, as she was at thirteen. She sits next to you, clutching her legs to her chest, watching the building as it falls apart. You turn away to watch the spectacle together. A moment passes, and you feel her presence fade. Sirens blare in the distance, but it doesn't matter. All they're going to find is a burnt out husk by the time that they get here. You shakily climb to your feet, ensuring the Piledriver is still strapped to your back. Might want to return it some day. Your head throbs, but there's something pleasant beneath the pain. [[Time to move on.|TrueEnding]]

Your heart feels like it's tearing itself out of your chest, causing you to fumble for your flask. You attempt to take a swig, but your stomach instantly rebuffs it. Generously, it then expels the rest of its contents. No good. You screw the cap back on and stow the flask away in your jacket again. You look to where she was pointing. Perhaps there's something to see here before you go back to school. [[The air around you is muggy and still. No apparitions remain.|greerbunkhub]]

Bearing Edith's same grin, a strange, pale apparation floats before you, bearing some resemblance to a jester, although it was more as if it were a mockery than an attempt to come across as human. Yeah, you immediately could tell this thing had never been human. Its psionic power is overwhelming. Soon, all your mind can fathom are fear and submission, and you become his thrall alongside Edith, a puppet of his will. But at least you're back together. [[Never again to part.|FalseEnding]]

You could never forget the route, but approaching the building, actually //seeing// the place in person and no longer being able to tell yourself it was a nightmare is heavy. You're afflicted with vertigo and bile building up in your chest, but you manage to swallow it back down. Santo Domingo Preperatory. An eyesore of a building resembling the deformed offspring of modernist and Gothic architecture. The mayor touted some horseshit about bringing traditional Western aesthetics to the modern age, to teach the kids that "our" way is the right way. Your parents ate all that up and entered you and Edith in to the admissions lottery, which, as fate would have it, you were both selected as "winners" in. There's a lock on the door, but the gas station bolt cutters you keep next to your flask make short work of it. Snip, and then you're in. Lifting Edith's cooler, you step in to the dark hallways of the hell you once knew, intimately. Where the devil dwells. [[Arrête! C’est ici l’empire des Déchirés.|endingtransition3]]

You hold your flashlight in one hand, dragging the cooler in the other. You shine your beam over the stripped-bare interior of the source of so much of your pain. There was the library, where Mother Francis beat you with a ruler for being accused of stealing bibles. You didn't so much wonder who accused you during it, as you did why the library cared when thousands of identical copies of contemporary Catholic scripture were all they had anyway. You recall admissions peaking at around eight hundred and seventy nine students. There was the gymnasium. You don't know what they did in the classes you didn't attend, but in your experience, "beat the shit out of Teddy while Coach eggs you on" was the extent of the curriculum. And then your flashlight passes over a certain door and your stomach turns. The principal's office. In black letters, strangely bold and devoid of fading, there was his name. FATHER TOM. Your neck cranes away from that door. You push down thoughts of what he did to Edith in that room. And at last, the basement. To the boiler room. There isn't even a door in the frame. No sign of one nearby, either. Now or never. You prepare your flashlight and lift Edith's cooler. [[Time for the final descent.|FinalDestination]]