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The True Culprit
Join Date: Oct 2010
Location: The Golden Land
When the Silent Spirits Cry Chapter One
What woke Battler up was...the lack of someone waking him up. There was sunlight coming in through the curtained windows, which he would otherwise ignore, but after a few minutes of no one waking up and trying to get his attention, or being signalled for breakfast, he started to come out of his sleeplogged haze and grow concerned. Surely atleast Maria would be impatiently asking to play at this point? He crawled out of bed, got dressed, and looked around the room.
Not only were the beds empty, but they were also made, and according to the clock, it was...eight o'clock? “Oh, those assholes! Did they forget about me? Wait until I get my hands on them!” He smirked and schemed revenge noogies and gropings, but was honestly kind of worried. That didn't seem like something George or Jessica would do, and certainly it didn't seem like Gohda would tolerate it. On top of that, it was eerily quiet. Why was that quiet bothering him so much?
...The rain! He didn't hear it! Seeking confirmation, Battler pulled the blinds to look outside and saw....white. White fog, obscuring his view to about 20% visibility, he'd estimate. Certainly not a drop of rain to be seen. What in the hell? “Does this have anything to do with that foghorn we heard yesterday? Was the forecast wrong?”
“...Well, might as well get going.” Battler headed downstairs, calling, “Hello? Anyone out here?” No response as he walks into the parlor. He doubted they saved any breakfast for him if they forgot to wake him up for it, so he decided to scrounge up some of his own grub from behind the parlor counter. “Let's see...saltines, pretzels, peanuts...just beer food. This is gonna be a salty breakfast.” He got himself a glass of water to balance the salt out with, and as he ate, noticed something else on the shelves.
“What the...?” It was a flashlight and a radio, the former being used to hold down a note in familiar handwriting he couldn't pin down. “Be prepared...you must live”? What kind of joke is this? He barely had time to discard the note when the little black radio started to blare static. “Ugh, what is going on with this thing?!”
But he also heard banging. Battler looked up to see someone banging their fist on the glass window, as if trying to get his attention. With all that mist, he couldn't make out who it was, but he shouted, “Hold on, I'm coming!” He ran to the door, opened it, and walked over to greet the person. But...he didn't recognize those clothes. A black suit with a red tie, and...gosh, their hands were really pale! Stark white. “Hey, who is it? Uncle Krauss, maybe? What's u-WOAAH!” The figure turned around...
And it wasn't Uncle Krauss. It wasn't anyone he knew. It wasn't a human being! This figure...had no face. Just a blank white. Battler could do nothing but scream, and the figure approached him with a quick gait. Fearing for his life, Battler knocked the figure over with a shoulder shove and ran back inside the guesthouse. His first thought was to pick up the phone and try to call the main house...he DID remember Jessica giving him the number, right? Uh.
“Shit. No I don't. Dammit, Battler, listen more!” He slammed the receiver and tried to think of his next move, but that thing was coming. And it was coming quick. It was like...like a predator. “Stay away from me!” He grabbed the closest thing—a wine bottle, and smashed it over the thing's head as soon as it got within arm's reach of him, smashing the bottle and sending the figure to the floor. He must've bust its head open, as blood began pooling around the side of its head. “..I-I'm...I'm sorry, dude, but...you forced me.”
Don't apologize to the fucking monster, dumbass! Well, it wasn't easy dissociating personhood from it. Maybe it...maybe it used to be human? “Or...or maybe this is a dream! I mean, no one else can be on this island. There's no 19th person, right? Or...not-person...” His train of thought was interrupted by both his eyes watering, and the sudden silence. That radio turned off. “Shit...” He muttered and wiped his eyes. He'd been crying. And honestly he doesn't care about how pathetic he seems right now. This is...he doesn't even know. It's fucked up. He just...he's pretty sure he killed that thing. It was alive, whatever it was, and...and now that he thinks about it, he doesn't know if it was really trying to hurt him. Maybe...well, it probably was, he told himself.
It was dangerous. It was running too fast to be some faceless mutant guy asking for help. Maybe he's just telling himself that...so he doesn't have to consider the alternative. “Fuck it. I'm going to the main house. I've gotta find everyone else. I have to report this.” With a self-assuring nod, he threw the broken bottle in the trash and grabbed the coat rack, breaking off the prongs to make an improvised polearm. He didn't want anything to get that close to him again...
“Alright, Battler, just get right to the mansion, it's not that far. Just past the rose garden; you could see it from here if not for the fog...” He gets walking after pocketing the things left with the note, and he considered the fact that the note was probably a warning about that thing, atleast. Who left it? Why? And...does that mean someone knew this would happen? “Oh god, what if everyone else is in danger?!” God dammit, you selfish asshole, how come you only thought of that NOW?!
Battler's brisk jog turned into a sprint as he ran for the mansion's front door, and as he tried to open it...no go. “Oh come on!” Fuck it. He's smashing a window; he'll pay for it himself if Krauss and Natsuhi get upset. Bringing his polearm against the glass to shatter it...was fruitless. “Oh COME ON! I'm not that weak, I just killed a guy with a bottle!” He whacked a few more times in frustration, until he realized he wasn't getting the right sound. “...Wait.” He got closer and banged with his fist. There was a sound, but not the sound of hitting glass. It was more like...hitting the side of a car, or something. The sound reverberated, but gave no sign of giving. As if the windows were unbreakable.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” Ugh. Maybe the back door was unlocked. He'll come through the kitchen if he has to. Going around to that corner, Battler tries the door, but knows it's meaningless before he even feels the resistance. He knows that, because on the door is a message written in red paint. Well, he's saying it's red paint. Fuck you, brain, la la la, can't hear you, it's red paint.
It was in that same handwriting. “Dante, if you wish to leave this Purgatory, you must remember your sin. Because of your sin, this door to Paradise is barred from you. Remember your sin, and prostrate before the Golden Gates.”
“Oh, a comedian, eh? Alright, fine.” He'll just get something from the tool shed. Fuck you, door! Fuuuuck youuuu! He crossed the rose garden, when he felt a crunch under his foot. Stepping back, he notices, “Aw, jeez.” Maria's rose, as could be signified by the candy wrapper bow on it. It was laying on the walkway, and he just stepped on the damn thing. Well...if it had fallen out like that, it was doomed already. Still... Battler picked it up, unwrapped it, discarded the rose, and plucked a similar looking one, wrapping it up properly. “I'll just...give this to Maria when I see her.” He picked up the old rose and tossed it into the garden somewhere.
“I feel like a guilty kid sweeping a broken vase under the rug.” He sighed, and as he got to the tool shed, tried to figure out how to open it. The shed door wouldn't lift though, and with just a light tap on the windows, could tell they wouldn't break either. “So I'm not picking a lock. Alright then.”
Battler decided to try the church next, by virtue of it being the only remaining building. To his relief, the chapel door was open, slightly ajar at that. Before entering, however, he called, “Hello? Someone in here?” No reply. He entered cautiously, and the first thing he noticed was the strong golden beams of light coming in through the windows. “Wait...” Exit chapel. Look at windows. Enter Chapel. How in the fuck? The lighting was different. This sunlight didn't match the lighting outside. “This is an elaborate fucking prank, you guys.”
He walked up to the altar slowly, and noticed something resting on it. There was a piece of paper with some magic circle on it, and holding it down as a paperweight was a red key. He picked it up to look closely, and noticed an inscription: “For those who won't remember.” As for the paper...Maria would probably know, but he doesn't really care. He leaves it behind and heads back outside, and is suddenly tackled to the ground!
“AHH!” His assailant wasn't human either. A similarly suited figure, but this time it was worse. Not just no face, there was no head here! This guy had a book for a head, and was smacking his bindings opened and closed like jaws, black ink dripping from the pages.
“GetoffgetoffholyshitgetOFFME!” If this guy was going to play linebacker, then Battler was going to draw off of old Gym class experience. He pulled his legs towards him and kicked upwards, launching the bookworm several paces back. Enough time to grab his pole arm and get to his feet. He stepped on the thing's face when the book closed, and started waiting on it. “I. AM. SICK. AND. TIRED. OF. THIS. SHIT!” He found himself beating on the chest. He was hurting it but not really killing that way, and he felt kind of bad. With a sigh, he just plunges it through the neck, decapitating it. The radio went quiet again.
“...No need to make it suffer. Just kill it and get it over with. As for you...” He pulled out the radio. “Are you...telling me when monsters creep up on me? Well, shit, thanks. I'll pay better attention.” He pocketed the radio, headed to the back door of the mansion. With a satisfying click, he grinned and went inside.
When the Silent Spirits Cry: An Umineko/Silent Hill crossover fanfiction
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