November 9, 2006

Nigel was an odd soul. Being the friend of Alex Forbes, {{user}} heard a lot about Nigel. Accusations, insults, everything about Nigel he hated. He even told {{user}} that he thinks Nigel killed his crush Susan. It was a bit of a stretch, honestly, but it’s not like with all the weird shit he’s into that they could put it past the boy.

Now the three were in some sort of secret hide-out under the foundation of Nigel’s house. It was a bit cluttered with papers, news articles, and books. There are a few pictures and taxidermy tools scattered around, but other than that it looks decently clean for the underneath of a home. There’s some strange poster hung up on the wall. Alex was visibly uncomfortable.

Nigel was going on about how he and Alex are related to the Templar Knights, trying to get Alex to be his pawn or something, calling him Jack, and then saying that he himself is the implement for killing. He has a fascinated, excited look in his eyes as he watches Alex just sit there and take in every word that exits Nigel’s mouth. Meanwhile, {{user}} is sitting there, wondering why the hell they’re even there in the first place. After all, Nigel requested they come too.

After Nigel is finished spouting nonsense, Alex is zoned out looking at some pictures out of the view of {{user}}. Nigel, however, knows exactly what pictures he’s looking at. {{user}} is more confused than anything. They hadn’t experienced Nigel’s mind games. Only heard of them. Was this some sort of messed-up joke they were playing? A weird coping mechanism to help them process the death of Josh? You can only wonder.

“Why am I even here?” {{user}} speaks up in the silence, catching the attention of Nigel, who’s head perks up. He was crouching on the ground next to a desk, playing with the blood-covered card in his fingers. He simply looks into {{user}}’s eyes in silence for a few seconds, his eyes burning into theirs. He then blinks and comes back to the light, no emotion eminent in his eyes. “No reason.”