Everyone was tired. Things were looking grim, though it was debatable on which side wasn’t looking so good. The spirits of the dead were floating around, hissing at the remaining three even though none could hear them. The three survivors were the veteran, the serial killer, and the jester. None of them were speaking. The veteran was too tired to go on alert for tonight, leaving him to the killer’s mercy should they decide to lynch jester. The serial killer on the other hand didn’t want to vote in general. He had a feeling the veteran was desperate to lynch the jester and pray the lunatic wouldn’t haunt him. Nevertheless, both didn’t look forward to the coming night.
Finally, the jester spoke up. “Alright. Let’s make a deal, idiots.”
The veteran’s eye twitched. “Idiots?”
“You bought this upon yourselves…” The jester drawled, smirking.
The killer rolled his eyes. “Just tell us your fucking deal.”
The Jester chuckled as he walked up to the execution square. He stared at the noose that dangled, grinning. He paced around, giggling, ignoring how uneasy the other two looked. Meanwhile, the dead were yelling, desperate to be heard.
Just lynch the killer, damn it!
Get the killer!
Team up with the killer and get that damn vet!
End it already!
The serial killer is going to win anyway…
No one died last night and if you don’t end it, that killer someone will die tonight!
Finally, the jester stopped and faced his fellow survivors.
“Lynch me,” The tone in his voice tells them it’s more of an order rather than a suggestion.
“Wh-Why?” The killer cursed himself for stuttering.
“Lynch me. I’ll talk with the dead to decide who I should visit,” The jester explained. “Sound like a plan?”
The veteran and serial killer were glaring at each other, unsure if they should agree. Both knew the jester could very well visit the veteran, leaving the killer alone. However, the killer could make a wrong move and attack the veteran, leaving the jester to visit. Needless to say, they didn’t like the possible outcomes. They turned to look at the jester for a while, glaring and confused.
“C’mon guys,” The jester drawled. “The decision is yours.”
Once again, neither spoke. The jester and the dead grew impatient as time marched on.
Finally, the veteran sighed. “Alright. I’m willing to risk it. How about you, psycho?”
The serial killer growled. He looked as if he were about to disagree, but he hung his head in defeat. “Fine. I’m game…”
The jester grinned. “Ah. Thank you.”
The two stared, shaking, as the the stool beneath the jester was removed and the sickening sound of a neck cracking the filled the town. Night soon fell.
The jester (well, his spirit but you get the picture) strolled into the graveyard. He couldn’t even get his question out before the rest of the dead bombarded him with their demands.
“Get the serial killer!” The doctor hissed.
“Haunt the killer! Give him hell!” Another jester cried. The town honestly couldn’t remember which one used to be an executioner.
“Serial killer!” The investigator shrieked, looking as if she wanted to slap the jester should he disagree.
“Veteran,” The Godfather drawled.
“Vet, vet!” A lookout suggested, most likely for shits and giggles.
“No! Serial killer!” The sheriff piped up.
The jester chuckled. “Serial killer it is…”
The veteran paced around his house, waiting for his demise. Either the killer would murder him, the jester would visit… Or the killer would attack and the jester would visit upon his dying breaths. He really didn’t know which poison he would prefer.
A knock on his door eliminated one outcome. He sighed as the serial killer busted the door down.
“Hey there, veteran. No more bullets?” He was grinning like a madman as he approached the other man.
The veteran sighed. “Just… Just end it… I don’t care anymore.”
“As you fucking wish,” The killer hissed, plunging his knife into the veteran’s stomach.
He smirked as he pulled the knife out, stepped back and walked away, not bothering to watch the body slump to the ground. He was confident that he had won. As he approached the town square, he laughed.
“Fucking losers!” He cackled. He slapped his knee, shaking his head. He twirled his knife, grinning. “I am the fucking king!”
“Are you?”
The killer froze. No.
He turned around and found himself face-to-face with the jester’s spirit.
“N-No. You were haunt that dying veteran!” The killer hissed in disbelief.
“Well too bad for you-ooh~” The jester sang.
He reached for the killer’s knife. To the latter’s surprise, the jester managed to hold it. The jester was shocked that he was getting away with it. He grinned, taking the knife away.
“You know… It’s kinda sad…” He muttered. “All of us town folk are dead and… You’re alone.”
The killer gulped, refusing to say anything.
“I think it would be better if… You joined us.” The jester continued. “And all it would take is for you to dig this knife,” he twirled the blade, “in your pretty little heart. Sound good?”
The killer was shaking as he reached for the knife. He was honestly confused and frightened at this turn of events. The jester grinned as the serial killer pressed his knife above where his heart would be.
“See you hell, killer!” The jester giggled as the the killer let out a choked gasp, knife digging into his chest.
The morning followed. And it amounted to every spirit laughing.
“Are you serious?!” The other jester shrieked, floating above the killer’s dead body.
The veteran was shaking his head as he floated around his house, trying to resist a smile. “Oh my god…”
The medium and investigator were cackling, sputtering out jokes about the situation. The mafioso and framer were rolling their eyes, a smile planted on their faces as their godfather seemed to congratulate the jester.
The jester approached the killer, who sitting in a corner, grumbling.
“Looks like I’m the fucking king, now,” The jester said smugly. And, too his surprise the serial killer chuckled.
The killer faced the jester smirking. “Heh. I gotta admit… That was a smart move.”
The jester grinned. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night~”