This is actually a Reader Insert sort of fanfiction I came up with after listening to one of my favorite songs from a musical! The song is called "Cell Block Tango" from the musical Chicago. This is the version featuring the Allies group +1. I did another version with the Axis group and some others in the post previous to this! I swear they aren't exactly the same, I tried to change up each a little bit! Give it a go?

I would just LOVE to see a few comments to hear what you think, tell me what I could edit, add, so on and so forth! Even if you don't like it, I'd very much like to hear it! It's good to know~!

WARNING: This features a little bit of blood/gore (not painfully descriptive, more just the idea of it) and killing. I suggest you listen to the song first just in case you're unsure as I follow the lyrics almost exactly with more of a story line here.

(_) now presents
The Chronicles of the Six Merry Murders
Hello officers, and welcome to my special little black book! Choose the chapter you want to go to, I'm sure it will clear things up for you.
P.S. Sorry about the stain, have fun cleaning that up.

Chomp!
Six!
Squish!
Not this time!
Cicero!
Wang!
My turn~

Chomp!
You know how people have these little habits that get you down? Like Alfred; Alfred like to eat burgers, no, not eat, chomp!
So I come home this one day and I am really irritated, and I'm looking for a bit of sympathy. And there's Alfred, laying on the couch chewing, no, not chewing, chomping! So, I said to him,
"Al, you chomp on that burger one more time!"
And he did.
So I took the shotgun off the wall and I fired two warning shots.
Into his head.
He had it coming, he only had himself to blame!

Six!
I met Francis Bonnefoy from Paris about two years ago, and he told me he was single, and we hit it off right away. So, we started living together. He'd go to work, he'd come home, I'd fix him a drink, we'd have dinner….
Then I found out. "Single" he told me. Single, my ass!
Not only was he married, well, he had six wives! One of those Mormons, you know?
So that night, when he came home, I fixed him his drink as usual. I made sure to buy a special wine for him too, imported straight from France~
You know, some guys just can't hold their arsenic. Ah well, can't say I never did anything for him.
He had it coming, he took a flower in its prime. And then he used it and he abused it! It was a murder but not a crime!

Squish!
Now, I'm standing in the kitchen, carving up the chicken for dinner, and in storms my boyfriend Arthur in a jealous rage. You wouldn't believe how angry that bushy-eyebrowed Englishman could get!
"You've been screwing the milkman!" he says.
He was crazy and he kept screaming, "You've been screwing the milkman!"
Then he ran into my knife.
He ran into my knife ten times
If you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it, I bet that you would have done the same!

Not this time!
There was one guy that I actually didn't kill though…. Poor Matthew…
We were staying in France, as he had some French roots being Canadian and all. I met a man there, quite famous it turned out too. He became a lover of sorts, nothing serious though.
They say he held down Matthew while I chopped off his head, but this isn't true! This time, I am as innocent as Matthew Williams was quiet! I tried to explain it at the police station but they didn't understand me
He was the one man that I could have lived with…. He must have had it coming from another woman, surely his murderess that pinned it on me.
But hey, what's one more name in my book?

Cicero!
My sister, Veronica and I had this double act. My boyfriend, Ivan, traveled around with us. It was great because he was this big, strong Russian, very helpful for lifting equipment and such.
With the last number in our act, we did 20 acrobatic tricks in a row. One, two, three, four, five, splits, spread eagles, flip-flops, back flips, one right after the other. You name it, it was probably on the list.
Well, this one night we were in the hotel Cicero; the three of us, boozing and having a few laughs and we ran out of ice. So I went out to get some. After all, not all of us could take our vodka straight like Ivan.
I come back, open the door, and there's Veronica and Ivan doing number seventeen: the spread eagle.
Well, I was in such a state of shock, I completely blacked out, I can't remember a thing!
It wasn't until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands, that I even knew they were dead.
They had it coming, they had it coming along! I didn't do it, but if I'd done it, how could you tell me that I was wrong?

Wang!
I loved Yao Wang, he was a real artistic guy, sensitive, a painter. He was one of those really deep, thoughtful guys. Must have been some sort of Chinese philosopher in a past life or something. But he was always trying to find himself.
He'd go out every night looking for himself. And on the way, he found Ruth, Gladys, Rosemary and Irving….. I have to admit I'm not so surprised at that last one….
I guess you can say we broke up because of artistic differences
He saw himself as alive and I saw him dead.
They had it coming, they had it coming all along! Because if they used me and they abused me, how could they tell me that I was wrong? They only had themselves to blame! If you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it, I bet that you would have done the same!

My turn~
Now I had to make this special. This couldn't be another story you only just learned the detail too. Oh no, you're going to see the outcome with your very eyes.
I wanted to make this stick. So I quite literally took a knife with 7 marks on it and stuck it in my heart. One mark for each death you've learned about today. Or the next day. Or next week, next month, next year. It's all the same to me, as I won't be alive waiting for you to come around.
I think I can honestly say I had it coming. In fact, I've had it coming all along. If you had been there, if you had seen them, would you tell me I was wrong? Now wouldn't you have done the same?
~(_)

Officer Beildschmidt read the last page in the small onyx book he held. Other policemen from his station were working around him, though he didn't notice a thing. He was focused on the book. On it were a few drops of blood, matching the puddle on the floor next to him. In it lay ¬(_),a knife with 7 deep scratches into the handle sticking straight out of her chest. So seemed to have a smile, no, a smirk, on her face, her eyes half-opened with her slumped position on the floor. The words of her book ran through his head.
You chomp that burger one more time….
Single, my ass….
Ten times….
What's one more name….
Number seventeen, the spread eagle….
Artistic differences….
Many a question ran through his head as he looked down on (_) with pity, but one stood out the most to him.
Would I have done the same?