MC Lullaby Girls 02

Ok... Whatever

“Irvine, the mission report?” Selphie's outstretched hand in front of him broke Irvine's train of thought, or lack thereof, as he stared bleary eyed at her.

“What?”

Rolling her eyes at his state of perplexity Selphie decided to get it herself. Flipping through it desultorily as the news highlights were starting.

The news reports on the “club murders” had escalated to an all-new level, leading to a degree of hysteria that was starting to scare even the toughest cops on the streets. Ever since the few gang clashes and fights, nothing this ghoulish had ever hit the city.

Nothing.

Now though, they had Mr. Hannibal Lector Wannabe roaming the boardwalks. The neighborhood was nowhere safe. Lord, even curfews were being drawn up and extra security was being called in.

Counting last night's casualty, a total of seven girls had already fallen prey to “the henchman” or so the media had called him for his symbolic character traits and trademarked tidbits. A severed chunk of flesh here… a dismembered limb there… not to mention the little smart assed quotes he would copy in blood on some dumb little paper plastered to the little “tidbits” he left behind…tidbits…but never the whole body, never the works. Just a slight tease before the real movie got aired.

Boy do I want to watch the movie…Selphie added without humor. Eyeing Irvine trying to get a glimpse of something in the background of the live footage, Selphie chided him.

“Get serious Irvy! This is really bad!!! I am starting to get the chills, this guy, The Henchman, has serious issues.” Selphie sat next to him on the couch, worry lines etched into her youthful forehead. The newscaster in front of the camera was reporting the news of the newest butchery. They identified her as a Miss Carly Johnson. At least the thumb, “the Henchman “ had left for the police, told them as much.

“I am reporting live, about fifty meters away from yet another club where the lacerated thumb of a Miss Carly Johnson has been found. Though no new information on this series of murders has been given out to the public, it is safe to say that Carly won't be the last of “the Henchman's” victims, for more, catch the ten o'clock news, I am Tara Cutcher…” The screen faded off into the busy background of Balamb's dock, showing the newscaster trying to get more information from the constable.

“You know, sometimes the news can be so visually impaired. I mean, how hard can it be to show us a picture of this mysterious finger?” Irvine quipped, still squinting at the screen, then became silent as he saw the look on Selphie's face.

“Why do I even bother Irvine? Obviously, a decent conversation with you would be in the `impossible possibilities list'! I am going. Got to get to Glitter Tech, my walk in interview starts in an hour.” Without so much as a glance at Irvine, Selphie left the room with the report in hand.

“Geez Sef, like you are any better.” Irvine muttered, flicking onto another channel...

Underneath Skin

The shores at the edge of the unknown island fall prey to the violent winds and equally violent tides. The water laps furiously along the isle, taking with it abandoned slippers, old tin cans and a bloody finger.

Has the Henchman struck again? Has he claimed yet another victim? As of now, we do not know. What we do know is that what lies beneath the cold depths of the sea is his garden. Of flesh.

As the forensics and other officials stay near the docks of Balamb city, checking out the area for incriminating evidence and clues, another site is being hidden. Away from the curious eyes of the media and police. Further down, much further then anyone would think to go, the Henchman has made his temple.

There, underneath it all lie the bodies of Carly Johnson and her predecessors. All seventeen of them. The small microorganisms that dwell in the sea have long since eaten the remnants of what they could find. No morals are pondered, for fishes do what fishes do. Swim and survive. Survival means eating.

As we look closer at the bodies of the girls, or what is left of them, we can see the way a scalpel had been run precisely around the orbit of the eye. Were it not for our knowledge of the Henchman, we would have thought nothing of this. Thought nothing of its missing two important organs…but whatever he does has a purpose. Though we cannot stay in the murky depths of the sea to ponder it.

We now resurface to dry land, in search of the girl who will eventually have the answers. The girl he will eventually want…

NExT...


	Ok... Whatever “Irvine, the mission report?” Selphie's outstretched hand in front of him broke Irvine's train of thought, or lack thereof, as he stared bleary eyed at her. “What?” Rolling her eyes at his state of perplexity Selphie decided to get it herself. Flipping through it desultorily as the news highlights were starting. The news reports on the “club murders” had escalated to an all-new level, leading to a degree of hysteria that was starting to scare even the toughest cops on the streets. Ever since the few gang clashes and fights, nothing this ghoulish had ever hit the city. Nothing. Now though, they had Mr. Hannibal Lector Wannabe roaming the boardwalks. The neighborhood was nowhere safe. Lord, even curfews were being drawn up and extra security was being called in. Counting last night's casualty, a total of seven girls had already fallen prey to “the henchman” or so the media had called him for his symbolic character traits and trademarked tidbits. A severed chunk of flesh here… a dismembered limb there… not to mention the little smart assed quotes he would copy in blood on some dumb little paper plastered to the little “tidbits” he left behind…tidbits…but never the whole body, never the works. Just a slight tease before the real movie got aired. Boy do I want to watch the movie…Selphie added without humor. Eyeing Irvine trying to get a glimpse of something in the background of the live footage, Selphie chided him. “Get serious Irvy! This is really bad!!! I am starting to get the chills, this guy, The Henchman, has serious issues.” Selphie sat next to him on the couch, worry lines etched into her youthful forehead. The newscaster in front of the camera was reporting the news of the newest butchery. They identified her as a Miss Carly Johnson. At least the thumb, “the Henchman “ had left for the police, told them as much. “I am reporting live, about fifty meters away from yet another club where the lacerated thumb of a Miss Carly Johnson has been found. Though no new information on this series of murders has been given out to the public, it is safe to say that Carly won't be the last of “the Henchman's” victims, for more, catch the ten o'clock news, I am Tara Cutcher…” The screen faded off into the busy background of Balamb's dock, showing the newscaster trying to get more information from the constable. “You know, sometimes the news can be so visually impaired. I mean, how hard can it be to show us a picture of this mysterious finger?” Irvine quipped, still squinting at the screen, then became silent as he saw the look on Selphie's face. “Why do I even bother Irvine? Obviously, a decent conversation with you would be in the `impossible possibilities list'! I am going. Got to get to Glitter Tech, my walk in interview starts in an hour.” Without so much as a glance at Irvine, Selphie left the room with the report in hand. “Geez Sef, like you are any better.” Irvine muttered, flicking onto another channel... Underneath Skin The shores at the edge of the unknown island fall prey to the violent winds and equally violent tides. The water laps furiously along the isle, taking with it abandoned slippers, old tin cans and a bloody finger. Has the Henchman struck again? Has he claimed yet another victim? As of now, we do not know. What we do know is that what lies beneath the cold depths of the sea is his garden. Of flesh. As the forensics and other officials stay near the docks of Balamb city, checking out the area for incriminating evidence and clues, another site is being hidden. Away from the curious eyes of the media and police. Further down, much further then anyone would think to go, the Henchman has made his temple. There, underneath it all lie the bodies of Carly Johnson and her predecessors. All seventeen of them. The small microorganisms that dwell in the sea have long since eaten the remnants of what they could find. No morals are pondered, for fishes do what fishes do. Swim and survive. Survival means eating. As we look closer at the bodies of the girls, or what is left of them, we can see the way a scalpel had been run precisely around the orbit of the eye. Were it not for our knowledge of the Henchman, we would have thought nothing of this. Thought nothing of its missing two important organs…but whatever he does has a purpose. Though we cannot stay in the murky depths of the sea to ponder it. We now resurface to dry land, in search of the girl who will eventually have the answers. The girl he will eventually want… NExT...