CH. 3:D Just a reminder, this story is from Skullman's POV. ENJOY! (Disclaimer: So far, nobody but Mistra belongs to me. So don't sue me! 00;;)
As a fourteen-year-old girl about five feet, with reddish-pink hair, and wearing a black shirt, black skirt and a pair of dark gray boots, sat on a plastic swing seat attached to metal bars with metal chains, I decided to sit onto the seat next to her. The girl coughed a bit and then said softly, "Skullman… Sometimes, I get this feeling that I won't be able to live any longer."
I stared in shock at the comment. "Why, Mistra? Why would you think of such a thing?"
The girl, Mistra, shook her head. "Skullman, you've changed quite a bit ever since you became my bodyguard." She smiled at me.
I remembered what happened thirteen years ago, when I intruded her house on her first birthday. I threatened to kill her, but for some reason, I just couldn't bear to harm such a young child. So her parents made a deal with me: I stay and become Mistra's bodyguard, and in return, her father's life belongs to me. Besides, after all these years, I think I've found a hobby that doesn't involve fighting.
"In a way, I don't mind that my dad sacrificed his life to spare mine, but… On the other hand, sometimes I miss him. His face is becoming just a faded memory to me. There are times when I wish to see him in person… Just once more." Mistra covered her mouth and made a sneezing sound from behind her hand.
"Are you okay? You don't sound well." I got off of the swing seat and touched the girl's forehead. "Mistra, you feel warm. Maybe we should go home… Before it gets dark."
"Don't be such a worrywart, Skullman," Mistra said to me in a way that's supposed to make me feel less concerned, but didn't. "But… I'll be inside in a few minutes. Just wait for me in the house, okay?"
I thought it was a good deal, even though it was starting to get cold and it seems that Mistra was sick, so I just nodded in agreement. "You can stay, but no more than five minutes. If you're not in by then, I'm coming out to get you, okay?" Mistra nodded in agreement, and I walked into the house nearby.
Every minute that I sat on the red-brown leather couch, reading The World's Scariest Stories, I watched the gold-framed clock ticking the seconds that flew by. By fifteen minutes, I started to feel a bit anxious. What's taking her so long, I thought in my head worriedly as I closed the book and walked out of the house. When I stood from the front porch, I looked at the nicely cut lawn, paved sidewalk, and empty swing set. Wait. Empty swing set? There, on the ground in front of one of the swings, was Mistra, with a bloody dagger inserted deeply into her back.
A week after Mistra's death, the funeral took place. Everyone in town, including her mother, wore black clothing and mourned for her as a black coffin, carried by four young men in black tuxedos, went down the aisle slowly and steadily to a large, square-shaped hole that was about six feet deep. Even though sadness welled up in me to a point where one would burst to tears, all I could do was shed a tear. Although, her mother laid her head on my shoulder, sobbing.
Three days after the funeral, I went to the cemetery, which was only a block away, to visit Mistra's grave. But when I went there, I noticed that it was dug up, and her coffin was ajar. I jumped down and removed the lid from the coffin, only to find it empty. Who—no… What kind of monster would want to steal a young girl's body, I thought to myself as I climbed out of the hole.
Just then, I heard the voice of a young man speak to me with a very slight German accent, "Seems like you're just in time… Or not." I turned and saw a young humanlike male with short, green hair that covered his right eye, tan-green pants, a bare upper body, and dark eyes, relaxing on a branch on a tree. His fingertips stained with blood, the male licked the blood off with a thin, forked tongue. "Lunch was quite delectable, though she could've afforded to wear a bit less eyeliner." He leaned his back against the trunk of the tree and folded his arms behind his head.
I glared at him angrily as I snapped, "Snakeman, you bastard! Did you eat Mistra?"
The green-haired male scratched his chin, looking curious, as well as mischievous. "Maybe I did. But maybe I didn't." Suddenly, the branch broke, and Snakeman fell down, landing onto some bushes under the tree. "S-s-so maybe I did. S-so what," he hissed, and quite literally, as he has a snake's tongue.
I glared at him, and then I lowered his head and sighed. "She-she was my friend. My best friend… My only friend. I took care of her since she was just an infant, and now, after thirteen short years, you had to kill her." The feeling inside of me, anger, boiled inside of me as my right hand converted itself into a cannon-like gun. I raised my gun to charge it up, and I aimed it at Snakeman. "I felt like a second father to her. I stood by her side when she needed protecting. I actually cared for her!" Without hesitation, I shot a large, purple blast at Snakeman.
Unfortunately, he was aware of this, and flipped sideways, dodging the blast. He brushed his bangs aside and smirked mischievously. "Feh. Obviously, you've grown soft, Skullman. There's nothing that makes me more s-s-sick—
"Sicker," I corrected.
"Whatever. Nothing makes me s-s-sicker than a robot that cares for humans-s! And you, of all of us-s Robot Masters, you just make me wanna barf right now!" Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sheet of paper. He threw the paper, but it fell to the ground. Snakeman just shrugged and said, "But I'll make an exception. If you want that girl back, just call the number on that bit of paper."
"But what if they try to trick me…?"
"If you want her back right now, I could just regurgitate her out of my mouth-"
"On second thought, I'll just call them," I said with a disgusted look.
"Well, fare thee well," Snakeman said gleefully before he disappeared.
I picked up the sheet of paper, and saw the phone number, as well as a message:
Want your deepest wishes fulfilled? Then call: 555-427-6841
Bewildered but determined, I ran back into the house, ran outside with a cell phone, and called the number.
I'm sorry if this chapter's kind of short compared to the previous two. What does this have to do with Cutman? You'll find out later. evil laugh
