Jun 3, 2018
“This town is so fucked” Liv spoke to herself more than whoever was planted next to her, a cigarette being brought to her lips as she watched the hustle of the event a safe distance away from the crowd
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“This town is so fucked” Liv spoke to herself more than whoever was planted next to her, a cigarette being brought to her lips as she watched the hustle of the event a safe distance away from the crowd
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when joseph returned home and gotten into this routine, he forgot the little things about this town. about the people, the places, and especially this annual fair. the only reason he remembered was that he was assigned to work it. and when he was, he nearly rolled his eyes. it was really tacky; joe would argue that rebranding it would only be worse. sure, maybe it could be a comfort, but a thing like this would be the perfect target and it would be his job to make it less of one. and he wasn’t sure he could. walking around the faire, the officer took to the corner of the grounds and watched as people went by. ❝ hello. how’s it going? ❞ he gave a nod to the nearest passerby with a small smile. ❝ having fun? ❞
TW: death, murder, violence
Despite having lived in Deercreek for eight long years, Warren had only attended the annual vigil once and he only went that year because his ex-girlfriend dragged him to it. It was a time to remember and celebrate victims- victims from decades ago that he had never met nor knew. He would much rather be home, hell he would rather be anywhere but there. But this year was different. This year there were very real threats present. Chief had assigned the detective, along with his partner, to the ‘Ghostface’ case. There had been some speculation that Ghostface himself might make an appearance at the event, so regardless of the fact that he was sweating like a pig and he almost couldn’t bear to hear anymore crying, there he stood right in the middle of the crowd with his eyes fixated on Mayor Dalton as she stood and proceeded to move towards the front of the stage. Suddenly, a body dropped from the beams above her, stopping just short of the floor. Shrill screams pierced his ears and then the scene quickly turned chaotic. The whole place had gone completely mad. He fought to see past everyone scrambling different directions but his hues widened, a lump forming in his throat as realization set in that the body was that of Chief Dolittle, and he was still alive. “Chief!” Warren yelled, pushing past the crowd that was now running towards him full force. Just as he reached the stage, he heard the nauseating snap of Frank’s neck. “God dammit, Frank!” He turned his head, closing his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t look. Instinctively, his hand fell to his gun that was safely holstered at his side. Tugging it free from it’s restraint, Warren pointed it upwards in the beams, eyes wide open, heart almost thumping out of his chest. This was it. The man they had been chasing for months was here. And look what he did to Frank. Bright lights blinded his view but he could tell there was no movement above him. Frantically, he began searching the surrounding area of the stage but to no avail. The killer was already gone. Behind the stage he came across the other end of the rope, a scowl forming on his mouth. Returning his gun to his holster, he instantly felt a wave of rage wash over him. All those years in therapy gone out the window in a matter of seconds. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, a closed fist repeatedly colliding with the steel beams that held the stage up. It had been mentioned to him once or twice that he needed anger management. His head hung low, unshed tears filling his eyes. The chief was the closest thing to a father that the detective had since he was 17. He remembered when he first arrived in town. Frank had worked with the FBI to get him set up with a job and an apartment. He was the only one who knew what happened. He was the only one who knew who Warren truly was. The sound of a branch snapping behind him made him jerk his head, quickly yanking his gun out a second time and turning around. “Get your fucking hands up, now!” he demanded, brows furrowing. Nobody would be back there, unless...
Similar to a car accident, Clara could not look away from what was happening before her. She dealt with dead bodies on a daily basis, but she had never seen a person die in front of her like that. Only in movies, never in reality. While most people expressed outrage and turned their heads from the incident, she did the exact opposite - choosing to fully take in everything that was happening. She closely studied the Chief of Police’s body and all of the surroundings. There was almost a hint of excitement in her eyes.
“I’m not your missing wife buddy” Ron swirled around, ripping her arm away and taking a step back as she was grabbed in the crowd. It was chaotic which made her uncomfortable and on edge. Maybe in another situation, she would be a little more forgiving but not then and there “So get the fuck off of me”
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TEXT => MAYOR DALTON.
SCOTTY’S #: Don’t you miss me, mom?
@maycrs
MASS TEXT => EVERYONE.
UNKNOWN #: Bacon, anyone?
Stella pulled out a flask from her purse and took a long swig. She requested at the town meetings to allow Shooters to serve beverages at this event, but her request was quickly turned down. So she decided to take matters into her own hands. She turned to her friend standing next to her, offering the flask, “Wanna split this?”