This is actually a Reader Insert sort of fanfiction I concocted after being insided by 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 Axis group with some others related to them in a clear way. I did another version with the Allies group +1 and I'll be posting that next! 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!
Vargas!
My turn~
Chomp!
You know how people have these little habits that get you down? Like Kiku; Kiku liked to munch on his damned pocky, no, not munch, chomp! It was like his addiction. The problem was he chose not to stop. That wasn't a good choice. It was so odd to me that such a quite man could eat so loudly!
So I come home this one day and I am really irritated, and I'm looking for a bit of sympathy. And there's Kiku, laying on the couch munching, no, not munching, chomping! So, I said to him,
"Kiku! I swear you chomp on that pocky stick 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 too! He really only had himself to blame!
Six!
I met Lovino Vargas from Italy about two years ago, and he told me he was single, and we hit it off right away. I'd always been into the asshole type a little bit, and this guy just had a good cuss or two spewing out of his mouth all the time.
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…
You know, some guys just can't hold their arsenic.
He had it coming. Don't even try to tell me he didn't! I mean honestly, he took a flower in its prime, and then he used it and he abused it! Thi was a murder but not a crime! It may have actually been a gift to woman kind.
Squish!
Now, I'm standing in the kitchen, carving up the chicken for dinner, and in storms my boyfriend Ludwig in a jealous rage.
"You've been screwing the milkman!" he says. It was a little bit funny, I must admit, hearing him say "screwing" in a German accent. He was into a lot of BDSM so it's not like hearing him scream was anything new.
This time though, he was crazy! I wasn't cheating on the potato bastard but he couldn't get that through his thick head. It was probably all the gel he put in his hair that stopped it.
So he kept screaming, "You've been screwing the milkman!"
Then he ran into my knife.
He ran into my knife ten times
I'm telling you officer, 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 Antonio…
We were staying in Spain, as he was from Barcelona, and we were touring the country a bit. 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 Antonio while I chopped off his head, but this isn't true! This time, I am as innocent as Antonio Fenandez Carriedo was friendly! I tried to explain it at the police station but they didn't understand me
He may have been 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, Gilbert, traveled around with us. It was great because he was this big, guy around, very helpful for lifting equipment and such, even if he did brag about it afterwards. Oh that adorably cocky bastard~
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. Because really, we couldn't all take our alcohol as easily as that Prussian.
So I come back, open the door, and there's Veronica and Gil 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 both 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?
Vargas!
I loved Feliciano Vargas, he was a real artistic guy, sensitive, a painter. You may remember his brother, Lovino. These two were very different, let me tell ya, but they both had something in common: these Italians both had a thing for me. But then again, who didn't?
The problem with Feli was 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 last one should have confused me a little bit, but I was too angry to think about it much.
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? All of them 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 details to. 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 Kirkland 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 on that pocky 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?