Hype Horrors 3: Comic-Condemned IC Thread

[Byrd Man]

"What the hell happened? How did he die? What's going on?"

"I need everyone to back away from the body now."

All eyes turn on a police officer who has waded through the crowd of horrified onlookers. The officer stops short of the semi-circle of hypesters and looks at the body.

"Jesus Christ. I need everyone to stay where you are right now. Nobody is moving or going anywhere until I know what happened here."

 

[Supergirl]

I can't move. I'm curled up and sobbing near the body. Byrd was always an ass, but he was our ass. I keep thinking about who could be next. Keyser shows up, and plays with the corpse. It's like something out of one of his Joker posts. If it weren't real it might be funny. Instead it makes me sick again. I add to the puddle of vomit I already made. An officer finally appears. Seems like it's been a month. I look around me, and most of the people I care about are right here. Only one isn't. I take out my phone. My fingers tremble as I select a contact. The phone rings.

"Please answer. Please ****ing answer, Shlee."

 

[MST3K 4ever]

"I need everyone to back away from the body now."

All eyes turn on a police officer who has waded through the crowd of horrified onlookers. The officer stops short of the semi-circle of hypesters and looks at the body.

"Jesus Christ. I need everyone to stay where you are right now. Nobody is moving or going anywhere until I know what happened here."

I pull the cape away and say, "Okay this is our friend who was murdered. We have no idea why or by whom. To be honest officer it's kind of brul. I mean he was alive and making an ass of himself, but he didn't deserve this."

I look around and say, "Sadly by now I'll bet Andy C" I guesture in his direction and say, "is right in that it's online which means his parents have probably...Oh Lord have mercy."

I bow head and recompose myself, "I can't imagine the hell his parents are going through right now."

 

[Byrd Man]

Part 2
Day 1
60:00 hours until Sunday

Police have closed off the convention center, declaring a crime scene and investigating the incident leading up to the murder. While the con is closed for the day, the show must go on at the largest comic book convention on the planet. The crime scene is soon processed, the body moved to the morgue, and the convention center prepped to be reopened the next day. All of the hypesters present at the scene have given their statements and were free to go their own way.

Which is why one was all alone twelve hours after the murder.

He walks down the street towards the hotel the group of RPers have been staying at. Unbeknownst to him, he's not alone. Not two hundred feet from the hotel, the killer springs into action. The masked murderer leaps out of the shadows, a hunting knife in their hands. With one swift move, the killer drags the blade across the victim's throat, slicing the esophagus. The killer retreats back into the shadows as the latest victim collapses to the ground.

His eyes rolling into the back of his head, MST3K begins to bleed across the sidewalk.

The killer reaches into a their pocket, pulls out three pieces of chalk, and quickly scribbles a message on the sidewalk beside the dying body.

2 DOWN

8 2 GO
TICK-TOCK
TIME'S RUNNING OUT
>.<
​

 

[Keyser Soze]

I'm back in my hotel room after a long afternoon at the police station. Being questioned in a murder case is stressful enough without the added surreal dimension of having to do it in a skintight spandex onesie. Needless to say, I was quick to change out of my bloodstained Green Lantern costume once I returned to the hotel - but not before I got someone to take a photo of me recreating the cover of Green Lantern: Rebirth #1.

Now dressed in shorts, T-shirt and sandals - the kind of outfit I rarely get to wear in rainy Glasgow - I think ahead to the plans for the night. We should all meet up, get together again. We should eat somewhere that will feel like a nice tribute to Byrd. I get a flash of inspiration, and send out a mass text to the others.

LET'S MEET AT DICK'S LAST RESORT FOR DINNER TONIGHT, 9PM. - JOHN

Dick's is a notorious place in the Gaslamp Quarter where the staff go out of their way to be rude to you while serving you dinner. Byrd would have loved it.

 

[Keyser Soze]

EDIT: Double post.

 

[twylight]

I sip my mint chocolate shake from Ghirardelli's, it wasn't very late. I sigh and wander down the street. I love the Gaslamp District, I wish I could live somewhere like this. It was temperate out, the heat from the day slowly cooling off. I look up to the sky, an unnatural color of red from the lights reflecting off the ocean haze moving in. I sigh, yeah.. I miss the stars and ability to see the milky way at home... why can't I have everything I want? I play with the straw in my mouth as I look at the people along the street. It's hard to move through them, most are dressed for clubbing.

Hmm, someday I'm going to attend one of the many Comic Con after parties that seem to happen every night once the con closes. Except... it closed earlier today than usual.

Byrd... Matt...

I take another sip of my shake, trying to shake the images from my mind. I didn't know him very well in the physical realm but it hits me that... he's not going to be posting smart remarks on the forums, or flirting with me via MSN.. or..frick.. I try to surreptitiously wipe the 'water' that was welling up along my lower lids. This is just like a bad break-up or when my Granny died. Somehow i just doesn't fully sink in till days, weeks or months later when you realize you miss them...

Besides that, I wasn't over the terror of giving my statement to the police. I'd started shaking halfway through, my nerves getting the better of me. In any other ordinary situation I'm sure my brain would have gone to the Officer Phillips guy.

And what's up with this 'game'? Like --

My phone vibrates in my back pocket and I move my shake to my left hand pulling it out. Ah text!

LET'S MEET AT DICK'S LAST RESORT FOR DINNER TONIGHT, 9PM. - JOHN


HA... wasn't he trying to get there at some point last year? Or did I miss it? Either way the menu looked pricey but worth it. I check the current time again and look around.. Hmm.. I'm near John's Hotel.. maybe I can meet-up with him.

I text him back:

Up for meeting at the hotel? I'm a block or so away. - twy

 

[Shlee]

A phone call from Cori.

"Byrd's dead."

I knew I should've gone to the goddamn Chuck panel. Instead, I decided to roam the exhibition hall for goods, looking for the Matel booth so I can pick Mercé and I up a couple of the 2011 MLP exclusive ponies from comic con...

Tossing the newly-gained bag of goods over my shoulder, I run back toward the ballroom the panel was in, the same two words just running through my head.

'Byrd's dead. Byrd's dead. Byrd's DEAD. BYRD's dead.'

The numbers on the doors start to blur, as do all the people around me. That's when I realize that my cheeks are soaking wet and it's hard to breathe. I'm crying. Better yet, I'm sobbing.

Byrd and I may not have been best friends, and I'll never forget how he lied to us... But we moved past that, and I always loved everyone's favorite *******. Every time we did talk it was a lot of joking and messing around and all around humor. And now... Nothing.

What the hell happened??

We gave our statements. The police let us go. What a surreal experience. We've headed back to the hotel and I've already run down to the car to finish getting everything I left in there for the day. The room Mercé and I are sharing with Cori just seems... Empty.

My phone vibrates in my bra (its normal spot, nestled against my left breast) and I pull it out to see the text from Keyser.

'So not in the mood to do... anything.'

 

[Keyser Soze]

I text him back:

Up for meeting at the hotel? I'm a block or so away. - twy

I send a text back.

Sure. Meet you in the lobby in 5 mins.

I head downstairs to the lobby just as Merce arrives.

"How you holding up?"

 

[twylight]

My shake is done by the time I reach the hotel so I toss it in the trash before I enter into the lobby.

I spy John and walk over to him.

"How you holding up?"

"Ummmmm...I'm okay. It's still really surreal."

I flop down on one of the lobby chairs.

"Worst Comic Con ever.."

 

[SenseiofCheese]

I still don't know what the hell is going on. The police questioned all of us and....what the hell was I supposed to tell them? That someone killed our friend because of a game I started online?

I'm sitting in the lobby of the hotel. I told the others I'd meet up with them in a bit. I just needed a moment to....I don't know, have a nervous breakdown. And I was not about to go to my room alone. Hell, I'm not going to anything alone. Best bet to stay where there's people.

I've been staring at the same spot on the floor for what seems like hours when I hear a familiar voice. I look up and spot twy sitting on a lobby chair next to John. Has he been sitting there the whole time?

I decide to pick myself up and stumble over to them.
"Hey, guys. Please tell me I'm not the only one going out of my mind, here."

 

[wiegeabo]

I don't want to do anything. And for the last few hours, I haven't. I've just laid on my bed, staring up at the cieling, my mind going over all the fun times we had online, and what happened today. Damn my obsessively clear memory. Everytime I think back, it's just as clear and raw as it was the first time.

They kept us at the police station for hours. And, in all honesty, I wish we could have stayed there. Would have felt safer, even with all the criminals around. I tried to explain what was happening over and over. All about the game we played and that, if the killer is playing the game for real, we're still all in danger. But they just did the cop equivalent of patting me on the head like I was a child before sending us back to our rooms.

LET'S MEET AT DICK'S LAST RESORT FOR DINNER TONIGHT, 9PM. - JOHN

I don't want to look at my phone when it buzzes, but I do so anyway out of habit.

sigh

I don't want to go anywhere. But I also don't want to stay here and drive myself nuts with my own thoughts.

So I gather up my stuff, and ride the elevator down, glad no one else is in it with me. Maybe hanging out with everyone else will cheer me up. But I know how I am in situations like this. Cheering up is the last thing that's going to happen.

When the doors open, I see a few of the group outside by the chairs.

"Hey..." is all I feel like saying.

 

[Andy C.]

I'm holed up in my room, staring at the movie playing on the TV (one of those crappy thrillers with Jennifer Lopez, but I can't for the life of me remember the title), but not actually watching it. Consciously I'm trying to get my mind off of what happened, but I can't stop thinking about it.

One of us is dead.

Someone is playing the game against us for real, and Byrd is dead.

Even with the police scouring the hotel and getting statements from everyone, I can't really convince myself that they'll catch the killer before he strikes again.

As I stare holes through the TV, I find myself gripping onto the metal hilt of my lightsaber. It's just a light-up replica, an expensive toy that only people like the ones here could appreciate. It wouldn't do me a damn bit of good if whoever killed Byrd came for me next.

Still, I clutch onto it, holding it so tightly that my hand starts to ache. A toy or not, it's the closest thing I've got to something I can actually defend myself with. And even if it's just a false sense of security, it's the one tiny bit of comfort I can manage.

My phone buzzes as I receive a text.

LET'S MEET AT DICK'S LAST RESORT FOR DINNER TONIGHT, 9PM. - JOHN

Part of me sighs in relief, just for the excuse to get out of my room and be in contact with other people again. Waiting for news about the killer is bad enough; it's even worse waiting for it alone.

I take the elevator down to the lobby, where the rest of the Hypesters are meeting up. It's not until I reach them that I realize I've still got my damn lightsaber in my hand, buzzing and glowing green.

"So.....have we heard back from everybody yet?"

 

[Spike_x1]

"Y'know, I've been thinking about enabling text messaging on my phone one of these days."

Switching through the channels on the TV for news on any sort of breakthrough whatsoever on Byrd's killer is frustrating, especially because it seems like the authorities know even less about it than we do. The other Hype posters and I can fairly accurately assume that Matt's death had something to do with the Hype Horrors games, but the possibility of something so silly seemed to have been dismissed by the police after we all brought it up during questioning.

I can't bring myself to look at Brynn, sitting on the edge of her bed while I remain fixated on the TV. To be honest, I don't know why I brought up something as trivial as my cellular phone at a time like this. Trying to keep my mind off Byrd as much as possible, maybe?

"I'm sure if anyone needs to get in contact with us, they'll call."

Finally clicking the damn television off, I look at Brynn. "Hungry?"

 

[Brynn]

I sit with a copy of Good Omens open in front of me but the words are a blur, my mind is on other things. Namely the supposed killer somewhere out there wanting to pick us off one by one. The cops hadn’t seemed interested in that portion of the story, admittedly I was sceptical at first but why else would you leave a cryptic message with the body. Everyone else had been so sure about it, it wasn’t reassuring but even less reassuring was the patronizing promise from the cops that they had it under control and we’d be fine. How many of us had to die for them to take us seriously? I’m pulled out of my thoughts as Spike’s voice cuts through the background noise of the TV.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm sure if anyone needs to get in contact with us, they'll call."

Finally clicking the damn television off, I look at Brynn. "Hungry?"

I look down at my book. What the hell, I need a distraction and I'm not getting it here. "Sure."

We walk to the elevators in silence, we had spent most of the afternoon like that. I feel like I should say something, I want to say something but I have no idea what. What do you say to someone who watched their friend get butchered? I’m sorry? It doesn’t really cut it.

 

[twylight]

"Hey, guys. Please tell me I'm not the only one going out of my mind, here."

I frown and look at Sensei.. all the way from Iceland for this.

"You're not, it's a natural reaction and we're all going through it in different ways."

Wieg walks up to us form the elevators.

"Hey..."

I give him a weak smile. I mean..? What else is there to say?

"So.....have we heard back from everybody yet?" Andy asks as he comes up. I ignore my original comment about the lightsaber, it would be too heartless to do that at this point.

Huh good call.. I run through the people in my head.

"Umm... just you guys. We're missing Shlee, Cori, Spike, Carnage, Brynn, MB and MST3K.."

I check the time... 8:57pm. yeah we should be heading to Dick's.. getting tables is a killer.

"We should start heading out. At least to get a table." I stand up. "If anyone else wants to come they can meet us there." I sway in the direction of the door.

 

[Keyser Soze]

"Sounds like a good idea, Merce. Let's go."

Our little group heads out of the hotel, and starts walking down the Gaslamp Quarter.

"So, Sensei, we haven't had much of a chance to talk yet. It's a shame you haven't been posting so much in the games recentlyHOLYCRAPANOTHERDEADBODY!!!!!"

We see the body lying on the edge of the sidewalk, and as we get closer it becomes clear that it's MST3K 4Ever, his throat slit. Already, a small group of onlookers have circled around the corpse. I run towards them, hands flailing.

"VULTURES! Get away! A man has died here! Give him space!"

Shooing the morbid voyeurs away, I drag the body onto the side of the road, away from the increasingly crowded sidewalk. The poor guy is not going to have his body trampled on. He is staring up at me with accusing eyes. With a hand, I close the eyes, then I stand up and step away from him, walking towards the other Hypers.

"It's not just Byrd. We're being picked off one by one, just like in the games. But this isn't a game! MST3K 4Ever was a real person! I didn't even know his name - I'm still calling him MST3K 4Ever, which is f***ing ridiculous - but he was one of us! I had that really cool fight with him back when I was playing Bullseye in the Marvel RPG, damnit! His death will not be in vain! We will respect his memory, and bring his killer to justice! No one else will die because of this sick, twisted game..."

Just as I say that, a man on a pedalo rides over MST3K's corpse. The wheel is shunted under the mangled body, and the driver is launched through the air, flying head-first through a car windshield.

"Apart from that guy."

 

[Batman]

I should just go home.

I mean, I know it's a complete 180 from how I felt yesterday. Truthfully, I've always wanted to go to a Con. Living in Southeastern Indiana doesn't exactly give me the privilege of being able to attend one on a yearly schedule, so to be offered the chance to come to arguably the biggest one of the year for my first was like winning the lottery. But now, instead of cosplay chicks and movie panels, all I can think of is Byrd. His corpse's frozen expression staring up at me, unwilling to make some sort of sly remark or crack a joke at someone's expense. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and I don't want to have to relive that every moment that the weekend has left to offer. I'd be better off just packing my stuff away and saying my goodbyes, leaving this whole ugly mess behind me.

But I can't. I should, god knows I should, but something just keeps bugging me. Seeing Byrd's suitcase at the other side of the hotel room, untouched since he was alive, it's like it's staring at me. Watching me, a symbolic gesture left to tell me that if Byrd were still here, he'd want us all to still have a good time. Hell, he'd probably be trying to sneak back onto the Convention floor. The crazy bastard was always looking for ways to stand out from everyone else - and especially now, I think it's safe to say that he succeeded at that.

Damn, though. It's gonna be tough. No one's gonna be able to avoid it. It's not like it'll be some sort of pink elephant in the room that we can all surpress - his death was national news. He's going down in history as the guy who was murdered at Comic-Con. Everyone'll be talking about it and wondering what happened, whether it was real or not or just some elaborate hoax.

Still wish it was.

"What the..."

I look over as my phone beeps once. It had been eerily silent ever since I had returned to my room, but it seems that someone's sent a text. Probably one of the guys, asking how I'm holding up. Wish I had an answer to give them.

"Son of a..."

I flip it open and look at the message. Number I don't recognize, but I see the tag. From a guy named John. Keyser or wieg, I assume. For the sake of not having to see the mental image of Byrd's corpse mangled like a ragdoll again, I'll just pretend that it's wieg.

LET'S MEET AT DICK'S LAST RESORT FOR DINNER TONIGHT, 9PM. - JOHN

I almost try to call back and tell them no.

But looking at Byrd's bag again, I sigh to myself. Already 8:45. I should hustle if I'm going to make it.

Hopefully Dick's has a decent steak.

 

[twylight]

You've got... wait...no.. what?

AAs usual, my brain died as I tried to take in and process the sight. John went off on a monologue, but what did you expect from an unhinged Scotsman who can play Joker perfectly?

This was the second.. maybe.... maybe this game was real. I didn't know MST3K very well at all, but it was still shocking. I move and look at the message written in chalk, averting my eyes from the body.

uh... r i was on Byrd's body, this one has 2 D 8 I and O I on the sidewalk in chalk. I doubt they mean anything but I pull out my pocket notebook from my purse and scribble them down, just in case.

I tilt my head, hey that '>.<' ... that's what I always use in my IM's and on the forum! What is this person trying to do??

 

[Andy C.]

"He got another one...." I say, with a flat matter-of-factness, the detached tone belying how utterly terrified I am. Another one of us is dead. We don't have the slightest idea who it could be, and already two of us are dead.

When twy starts to look over the note, I start to look over her shoulder.

"That's.....new...." I say. "Blue letters along with the red ones. I don't remember there being blue letters in the game."

This isn't good. I thought if I could keep track of how the game was played, I'd be safe. If I could go along with the rules, try and identify the pitfalls that people fell for, I could survive.

"He's changing the rules," I state, my grip on my replica lightsaber tightening. "Adding a new element into the game. Throwing us a curveball. Call the cops--this is only going to get worse."

 

[Keyser Soze]

"He got another one...." I say, with a flat matter-of-factness, the detached tone belying how utterly terrified I am. Another one of us is dead. We don't have the slightest idea who it could be, and already two of us are dead.

When twy starts to look over the note, I start to look over her shoulder.

"That's.....new...." I say. "Blue letters along with the red ones. I don't remember there being blue letters in the game."

This isn't good. I thought if I could keep track of how the game was played, I'd be safe. If I could go along with the rules, try and identify the pitfalls that people fell for, I could survive.

"He's changing the rules," I state, my grip on my replica lightsaber tightening. "Adding a new element into the game. Throwing us a curveball. Call the cops--this is only going to get worse."

"We're not calling the cops," I say coldly, "MST3K is dead because of our last trip to the police station, which split us all up right when we were planning to stay together in a crowded area. The killer was ready for us to call the cops last time round, it was exactly what he expected us to do."

I look down at the message written on the sidewalk. Between the smiley face and the blue letters (a nod to her introducing the concept of the Blue Lantern years before DC, perhaps?) the clues point heavily towards twilight. But what kind of idiot writes down obvious clues pointing at themselves? This isn't The Riddler we're dealing with.

"Some bawbag thinks they can mess with us, that he can just pick us off one by one like it's another RPG? I say screw that. I'm not going to run scared and wait to be killed. I say we turn the tables, hunt this murderer down..."

My eyes scan along the unnerved faces of the Hypers in front of me.

"...and kill the bastard."

 

[twylight]

"WOAH WOAH WOAH" I had been having 'issues' with the conversation thus far mostly because not calling the police didn't really seem like an option... one of the bystanders would.. and then another x hours being questioned...but killing? I mean, as much as I'd threatened it I don't think I could -actually- kill someone by premeditation.

And DANG Andy was intense.

"I understand your fervor, but let's not go around wanting to kill people, isn't it sort of the other guys MO?"

I look around...the street was mostly empty.

"As for the police, I don't know if it can be helped...unless we leave?"

 

[wiegeabo]

I wasn't really in the mood to eat. Haven't eaten since breakfast, the events of the day making the thought of food unappealing. But I was tired of being alone, and had hoped being with friends at dinner may help.

Now I'm glad I haven't eaten in hours. It turns what would be vomiting over the sight of MST3K into just dry heaves.

"We're not calling the cops," I say coldly, "MST3K is dead because of our last trip to the police station, which split us all up right when we were planning to stay together in a crowded area. The killer was ready for us to call the cops last time round, it was exactly what he expected us to do."

I look down at the message written on the sidewalk. Between the smiley face and the blue letters (a nod to her introducing the concept of the Blue Lantern years before DC, perhaps?) the clues point heavily towards twilight. But what kind of idiot writes down obvious clues pointing at themselves? This isn't The Riddler we're dealing with.

"Some bawbag thinks they can mess with us, that he can just pick us off one by one like it's another RPG? I say screw that. I'm not going to run scared and wait to be killed. I say we turn the tables, hunt this murderer down..."

My eyes scan along the unnerved faces of the Hypers in front of me.

"...and kill the bastard."

"Are you on drugs? You want us to not call the police?! Maybe your craziness isn't an act."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Of course we're calling them. They're, you know, trained for this sort of thing. They carry guns and everything." I shake my head as I pull out my phone to make the 911 call.

I look at everyone else. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I can't kill a person. And I'm not about to risk my life doing so. But Keyser's right. We need to stick together from now on. How many of us were alone, just like MSTK? Or with just one other person...possibly the killer?"

 

[Andy C.]

"We were all alone, just about," I answer. "As far as I know, we all went back to our rooms. None of us shared a room, did we? And it's been hours since Byrd. Which means the killer's had plenty of time. We're still missing MB, Spike, Shlee, Cori, Carnage, and Brynn. I really don't want to say it, but......MST might not be the only one he's gotten by now."

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and begin frantically texting.

MST3K IS DEAD. EVERYONE REGROUP IN FRONT OF THE HOTEL. NOW.

 

[twylight]

Wieg seems to be having a really bad time of it... *sigh* Gah this is bad. I raise my hand a bit.

"Umm, Cori and I are sharing a room, but I only went back to drop my backpack off and pick up my purse. I haven't seen her since this morning. And I think Spike and Brynn are sharing a room, and...." I trail off looking at MB.

"MB and....Byrd were sharing."

Gah this is bad. I lean against the wall, ignoring my OCDism about germs.