AN: For god's sake, talk some sense into him before he kills himself.
These are short for a reason. Recommended listning includes Christopher Lee's (RIP) reading of The Raven and The Submarine's '1940 (Amplive Remix)'. At the very least, look up the lyrics to 1940. They may prove…enlightening.
The Puppeteer Patient 120402-Yes, and if he pushes his luck there's bound to be a mutiny.
Christineoftheopera-Don't encourage him, he's going to get himself killed!
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-Never thought I'd say this, but he needs a shrink.
"Stop right there!"
He's not even moving, why are they acting so ridiculous?
He turns around, though, and does a quick head count. Six. He can deal with six.
"Good evening, gentlemen."
"Jonathan, please don't antagonize the police."
He did it all the time before, why should it matter now?
"Put your hands up!"
Well, they did say…
They realise their poor choice of words just a little too late. A second later, his hands are up-and they're on their knees, shrieking in fear. The sight doesn't amuse him as much as it once did.
"Jonathan…"
He ignores her and turns away, back to the flaming warehouse. It's empty, has been for some time, but this is the one she fell from. It cannot be allowed to stand.
Once he's satisfied that it's beyond rescue, he drags the officers closer to the flames and walks away, coughing thickly. He needs to lie down.
"Go to a doctor, you're sick."
"I'm fine." She doesn't answer and he looks up. He's alone again. "Kitty?"
Please.
THE END