Second.

[trustmods]

Between Truth or Dare and the resistance meeting, it seems things have been going reasonably well this week; at the same time, there have been fights here and there, and the Conductor's incentive has certainly been something to take into consideration as well. So there's been some good, and some bad, and some things that no one is talking about; the clock chimes on Friday morning, as it always does, and the doors to the kitchen and the mail room unlock. Of course, those wandering past the incinerator room will notice that it's...warm in there. Really warm? ...Oh. Blessedly enough, there isn't a body in the room, and the incinerator isn't large enough to destroy one, so this room can probably be left alone for now; however, just because there isn't a body here doesn't mean that everything is clear and no one has anything to hide. You might want to look around. >Explore?

Comments

[heymcfly]

[ Sounds like a good idea!

Marty ignores how incredibly sick he feels, moving from the center of the room and slowly moving outwards. Some people are in groups, but he tends to stick more to himself. It's not easy for a seventeen year old to come across a scene where someone's skull didn't really look like one anymore.

He leans up against the wall, thinking about how much he wanted to be home in 1985 (shit, or even 1955) rather than here. His eyes look near where the floor meets the wall, carefully moving one little step at a time.

[trustmods]

[There are some scraps of paper on the ground, as one moves up closer to the entrance nearer to the piano. They aren't bloody, but they aren't blank, either - they look like they've been torn, but there are definitely words on them.]

[heymcfly]

[ Some little things littered around the ground catches his attention. Marty finds himself wandering a little closer to the piano, scanning over the ground. One piece leads to two, which leads to a few more. He carefully bends down, picking up one of the pieces delicately. ] What the...?

[ On this one little slip, there's something scribbled, the lines crumpled and broken. He turns it over, and is happy to see there's at least no blood staining it. Thank god.

He crawls on his hands and knees, gathering up the other pieces of paper. Do they have writing on them, too...? ]

[trustmods]

[Ah, but that's the thing - the lines are most certainly crumpled and broken, but it's not handwriting, it's typed.

You know, the way letters from The Conductor are.

They're readable, if you're interested in seeing what's on them. Want to check it out?]

[heymcfly]

[ Marty's brow furrows. Wait a minute. This isn't handwritten! What letters that are together are way too uniformed. Nobody he knows has a way to type their letters, except for...

He quickly scoops the remaining pieces together, face pressed close to the floor, his quick breaths occasionally letting a few pieces run astray. It's worth a shot!

Shaking hands try to organize, hoping that letters will turn into words, which will maybe turn into sentences. What does he see? ]

[trustmods]

[It seems that not all of it is present - it looks like it's been ripped up by hand, as opposed to cut up with scissors or a blade, and some of the pieces are missing. What can be read, however, is as follows:]

Your request is interesting to me, and given th    'm fond of interesting things and believe in rewarding people's willingness to take initiative, I won't deny

            this trick you're asking me about     something that I'm entirely capable of doing. It doesn't have to be                   given that you're going to be killing them all anyway, I don't see why I can't allow you to have the entire lot, if you so desire.

After all, it's not as though             are going to be of any use to me after

- Conductor

[heymcfly]

[ Marty double checks, triple checks he has things the right way. There's some parts he can't find, but he's not going to be angry. Evidence is evidence, no matter how small it is. ]

This is nuts. This is so fucking nuts... [ He looks around for something to keep the pieces of paper together. His heart is hammering away, questions popping over questions in his head. What's going to be of any use to what? ]