Work Text:
A cage of wire,
A cage of steel.
He could hear their panic and cries.
A thought of remorse,
A thought of regret.
Would his grandparents be proud of what he's become?
A memory of anger,
A memory of hurt.
This was all going according to his plan.
A line of distrust,
A line of worry.
No one could trust each other.
A search of silence,
A search of loneliness.
Everyone was investigating solo this time.
A breath of panic,
A breath of fear.
He hoped they would stay far away.
A swear of silence,
A swear of nervousness.
He knew how close he was to the crime scene.
A step of truth,
A step of courage.
He could hear his sidekick muttering.
A bear of white,
A bear of black.
Who knew he could be quite useful.
A hush of alibis,
A hush of discussions.
He could barely hear what they said.
A bell of doom,
A bell of dread.
It was time to head over to the grounds.
A cough of pain,
A cough of splatters.
He knew his time was fast approaching.
A trial of lies,
A trial of deceit.
He knew what was awaiting the others.
A tale of pain,
A tale of tricks.
He could hear their voices from within the mech.
A voice of hope,
A voice of despair.
The victim was still unknown to their eyes.
A script of lines,
A script of facades.
He waited while they discussed a lie.
A flash of boredom,
A flash of anger.
He winced in disgust as he skimmed his words.
A mind of wisdom,
A mind of logic.
His sidekick was smart to see through it all.
A friend of help,
A friend of smarts.
He kind of felt bad for tricking him like this.
A debate of the mind,
A debate of bullets.
They found the clothes he flushed in the toilet.
A stain of water,
A stain of blood.
His mind could never be persuaded.
A heartbeat of guilt,
A heartbeat of anger.
He was unsure if that was enough to make amends.
A spot of details,
A spot of counterpoint.
But her words proved she wasn't swayed.
A voice of confidence,
A voice of stubbornness.
His sidekick could never use emotions as evidence.
A sleeve of pink,
A sleeve of style.
He did have a peculiar way of dressing.
But then there was her.
The one who was trained to kill.
He knew what happened last night.
Especially with how she reacted.
She thought it was her fault.
He hated that thought.
The guilt unfolded.
His heart ached.
His skin paled.
But he couldn't falter.
He couldn't show emotion.
He had to keep up the act.
Especially for his good friends.
Then he heard it.
A voice calling him out.
A voice of malice and trickery.
A voice distracting his thoughts.
A voice from a familiar someone.
"Hey Mister Suspect! That's your cue!"
And with a deep swallow of blood, he ventured out in his mechanical shell.
