Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Where there's Smoke...
It was a trap. The whole damn riddle, the ease of solving it, the answer, his waiting until I was home? The clown wanted to prove a point, apparently. He didn't want to be like the Minstrel, his stupid fanboy. He wanted "us" (the players and I?) to be more careful about how we solved the riddles this time. I don't know if there could be more than one answer to each riddle, or he's just a dick, but he proved his point.
I went to sleep after Amandel posted the answer to the riddle. No encoding, the riddle itself being one you could Google and find (trust me, I did it before even Amandel posted.) I figured it would just mean we'd get another riddle quickly. I was wrong once more. I woke up to get ready for work around nine and stumbled into my kitchen to grab a bite to eat before I showered. I wasn't even finished with my food before some motherfucker firebombed me. When I say firebombed me, I don't mean I lifted my head and smelled smoke or some romantic shit like that. A freaking Molotov cocktail smashed against the wall near my head, followed by another by the fridge and one by the stove. I didn't stop to check for more detail than that, sorry.
I ran out of there as fast as I could, in my pajama pants and not much fuckin' else. I came out hacking and wheezing only to see a big, hulking brute of a man staring me down. He hadn't even bothered to leave after he threw the Molotovs, or hide. He just stared me down, a scowl twisting the thread sewing his lips together into an even uglier grimace. He scared the hell out of me, to be honest. I backed away from him to go get in my car and call to trade shifts with someone else from day shift. I finished the call, opened the door to my car, and laying in my passenger seat was a plain white envelope with my name on it.
I'm... hesitant to open it, especially after this incident with my flaming apartment. What should I do?