Sobriquets were the baseline for having a real identity, to truly be someone of note. Oftentimes, they become a second name or last name, truly becoming a part of one's character.

I didn’t think I had one until recently. But it was so bad, that I wished I just didn’t.

These thoughts of mine earned a sharp snap from the man bound in chain, “Shut up, at least you have one…”

I didn’t speak, so I advise that you shut up, you unnoteworthy roadside scum.

“Aren’t you bold?” Mr. Hostage spits, like he understands my condemning gaze, “If I weren’t in chains, I’d show you who’s the roadside scum!”

Scum, huh? I was thinking the same thing!

Nevertheless, I halt my intention of kicking a man whilst they’re down to instead quench my curiosity regarding the Final Will and his latest charge, the Minted Nark.

To my knowledge, these two have never been part of any civil service. So why in all Hell do their sobriquets sound so much more upright than mine?

Who’s antagonising me?! C’mon man! Why does everyone hate me so much…

“Well, Jeffrey, killing over 400 people tends to do that,”

Tsk, ignoring the sad sack, I witness the glory of the Final Will’s counseling session as the secrets of New Guy are laid bare. Like slapping a marbled steak onto a countertop and then drowning it in an unholy — and exuberant — amount of salt.

Like sacred stars man! How much are you gonna make him cry?

“Jeffrey, just watch and stop whining alright? Unless you’re one of the main players?”

Mmm, I’m reluctant but I reign in scathing thoughts, halting the tirade of rotten tomatoes.

It seems I missed a crucial bit of dialogue, but Minte— no New Guy opened up.

“I-It— The kids man! They have kids here!”

“You were once a tutor for an orphanage, correct?”

“Wh-Wha. Y-Yeah. What about it? It was one established in the name of the venerated Hashem, but the Temple’s took it over…”

Hashem… Wow, this guy's a bona fide cultist.

“Jeffrey, don’t talk,”

I haven’t been talking…

“Who cares? Just stop thinking then,”

No. Screw you.

“Shhh! The good part’s coming,” Gesturing with his eyes, Laffer refocuses my attention back on the main cast.

“An-And just because of that you bastards burnt it down!” His face contracts into a hideous scowl as he yells amid the tears, “Just because the administrators change… The children—They… They didn’t have anything to-to do with that. Tell me! Why?! WHY!?!”

Wills stares at New Guy in silence, letting him vent his frustration.

“Why!? WILLS! TELL ME!”

“Because…”

Because? The pause is really killing me here. For my part, I’d also like to know. I don’t condone child murder.

“Because they were actually cultists in disguise? I dunno,”

New Guy isn’t pleased with the answer. And neither am I! Not that I’m gonna do anything… Just gonna watch. Watching.

“You think this is a joke?! You assholes—! Damnit!”

“Careful there, knives are sharp. You really shouldn’t play with those,” Wills forcefully pries the knife from New Guys hand, gripping the pointy end may I add.

Sometimes I forget. Wills is a certified member of this cult and enjoys basically the same rights and privileges of Laffer. Meaning, he’s steel ranked.

The ex-psychiatrist now gambling alcoholic ranks higher than me, an ex-guardsman now criminal.

Sigh, sometimes I wonder… What the Hell am I doing in life? Why is an alcoholic stronger than I am?

“Well, I think that stems from his profession. Has a kill count of 671 last I checked,”

“What?” That’s a large kill count for a psychiatrist. Unless psychiatrists don’t do what I think I do.

“Yesn’t psychiatrists do do what you think they do, but Wills is a bit different,”

How… “How so?”

It’s when I pose this question that I hear the smashing of wood as Wills from left field suplexes New Guy on a table.

Sacred stars! This escalated quickly.

Having stunned New Guy, Wills unbuckles his belt in a flash before belting the shit out of New Guy.

*Crack!*

“Stop!”

*Crack!*

“Crying!”

*Crack!*

“AHHAhafhHAhH!?”

*Crack!* *Crack!*

It’s a coarse leather belt. Shards of glass are embedded in it, of which Wills uses to the utmost as he practically flays New Guy.

I know I just took my attention off them, but what did I miss? Seriously. What the Hell?

“Weelll, y’know how Wills got that Final Will name? Well, it’s because he’s known for recording the final wills of his patients,” Laffer recalls as passes me a wanted paper even whilst still bound, “Don’t think too deeply about that. He just has good physical therapy,”

My mind is taken away from me as I examine the poster. It’s a shoddy artistic expression of Wills but at the top are large bolded letters with his name, similar to mine. Says he’s a heretic as well. Damn, he’s kinda like me, huh?

“He’s exactly like you,”

“Do I look like an alcoholic to you?” Actually, I might be, lemme rephrase that, “Do I look like a gambling addict to you?”

“Non’t to both questions… Anyway! I meant the same as in, you both are spedcases! Look at him, then look at yourself. You’re the same whenever you go without drinking your tea!”

What are yo— Oh. Oh crap. Anxiety hits hard at the worst times.

With this newfound discovery, I seat myself. And doing the man a favour, I also seat Laffer beside me.

“We’re definitely the bad guys,”

“No… Psh, as if,” Laffer makes a bad attempt to say otherwise, but it’s an open secret. Actually, no, it wasn’t even a secret. It was open. Everyone knew it. Everyone’s heard about it. No one says anything about it.

Mmm, I’m glad I tucked the two girls to bed. This is not something children should be seeing.

“Wait, Jeff, did you say two?”

Yeah… Two… Because there’s only two children here.

“Jeff! There aren't only two children here!”

Well, including yourself. Yes, you’re correct.

“No! I’m being serious ‘ere, we have three children here!” He yells as his head whips to a certain corridor, “THREE!”

Following his gaze I see the third. Oh SHITE!

It’s… What was her name again? Sheen? Shanna?

“Sheeny!”

AH! Sheeny!

Standing in the dim, dusty hallway, she was another spectator to this play. Her pupils were diluted, darting around spasmodically and I don’t think it’s because of the light. She has her hands covered over her eyes, but she still peeks through the gaps of her fingers, her breathing ragged.

Crapcrapcrap.

Rushing over to her from across the room, because of course she would be on the other side, I’m about to reach her before she pulls out a crossbow. You may be thinking something along the lines of, ‘Oh it’s just a wittle stick shooty toy,’ but you forget.

I’m not a godsdamned freak. I’d die.

To make matters worse, I’m pretty sure that’s my crossbow. I mean, look at that fancy engraving!

Look at those blended, curved lines and splendid width variety! It's magnificent!

It's simple you say? Well, it took me days to do that, you little bastard! What does it mean? Well… I dunno, Jimmy had it so I had it as well. I think it's an insignia? Not too sure.

Anyway! That’s beside the point. She has my crossbow! It's hella dangerous and I put a round of enchantments on it as well, so it'd definitely kill any average blockhead. So I don’t just leave that lying around, no. I have on me at all tim—

Oh, wait. Oh. I remember getting the rope, and to get the rope I put the crossbow down. And putting the crossbow down means it's not on me. This fact is obvious by the fact that I'm still holding the rope and not holding my crossbow.

Her smile widens to a sinister degree as I notice a new glow in her eyes. A fanatical glint. In anticipation of getting shot, I duck behind a table. But fortunately, I’m not the target.

Unfortunately though is my inability to comprehend the current situation.

Sheeny shot her mentor New Guy. Right in the heart as well. And even then, Wills still belts the dying crap out of New Guy.

I’m… I’m thoroughly puzzled.

Can I get a transcript?