Epilogue. Down with the Shiteness
A phone conversation between Nocturne and his assistant, Wilson, 5 minutes after takeoff of Gab’s private VWC Plane.
N: I forgot to tell Bianca that Gab’s neutralization shot will wear off.
W: Sir, do you mean that he’ll see her as something he fears the most?
N: Yes. We need creative ways for the loading screen. The character blacks out, he wakes up in the next part.
N: Don’t worry. She understands the risk. And she is a black belter, I think.
W: That was Olivia, sir.
W: The recently dead one.
N: I’m not of the slightest worried about Gabriel’s status. Our team will rescue him and brainwash him as another person with a fake history.
W: But what’s the point of doing this, sir? I know you will send a retrieval team to get him when the plane crashes due the auto-pilot’s altered course, but… If he was going to play a 309th time as another character, why the hell would we setup an elaborate ending like this?
N: I guess I just want him to reward him with my script-writing twists.
W: Your fatherhood is tragic but understandable, Mr. Edison.
N: I’m glad with that. The reprogramming of his past is already waiting for his breakdown. I know that plane crash will do the trick. Seems that Duskfall was too much of an effort to shut down our 308 orphans.
W: Their memories tell them they are not adopted, right Sir?
N: Indeed. What’s our next Project called?
N: What the hell does that mean?
W: Chaos, sir.
N: I like it. Care for some wine tonight, Wilson?
W: Haha… I’ll pass, sir. Good day. Oh, and Dissonance has slight variations from Phantasma, sir.
N: In terms of?
N: Understood. I expected that. With Phantasma a big success, Dissonance is no doubt our long-awaited event. That Randall Hildright will no longer be the Sculptor.
W: What exactly should happen sir, his extermination?
N: No. He will be like Donatello and Michelangelo.
W: Famous, sir?
N: No. Dead.
W: *chuckles* Good one, sir. Good night.
N: Good night, Wilson. Don’t let the long fingers get a hold of you.
Mr. Edison observed the darkening sky through the large plexiglass wall. He clasped his hands together and hid his mouth after pushing the bridge of his glasses. He could now see the plane slowly crashing down the water. He clicked a red button on his table and extended his right arm, revealing a silver watch that was once hidden in his black, long-sleeves.
The second hand had an abnormal pacing. It ticked a second and stopped there, making the time shift from 3:08 to 3:09.
He removed the virtual reality helmet on him and stood up from the all-seeing chair. He used it to monitor each contestant’s performance. It was the specimen’s best performance yet.
Lots of scientists and programmers where working on their last project, Dissonance. His five champions were defeated, but the fear threshold increased dramatically. Only a little more for the death of the multi-named, multi-faced monster they prepared for so well.
He was itching for 309th, the final test. The 308th project was a success. Gabriel Sherwood was who they needed.
“Good job, son.”
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