Chapter Text
The day was average, from start to finish. Well, that is if you can call it a day as time never passes and heavily depends on what “average” means to you. In this case, it meant Mr. Blanc explored the world, died in some uniquely crafted way, and the cycle repeated. After thirteen intricately planned deaths, not including getting chased down and trapped in gold or going back to reality and getting hit by a car. So, it was more like fifteen. So what? It’s not like anybody is counting…
…Well, other than Chase, who wants to know exactly how many hits until John breaks. The odds of that are decreasing more and more, not that they were particularly high to begin with. John has found himself beginning to enjoy these complex murder plots. That’s not to say some of these plans weren’t comedic in nature- a talking slide that ate him? Juvenile, for sure, but on par for Chase Colt. The chance of John finally falling into despair dwindled thanks to John becoming proper friends, at least as proper as you can with a personality like his, with some of the residents.
Of course, John now bitched to Rika about things Chase does. Not the murder, no, John enjoys that, things like not getting him flowers or calling him Darling. You know, couple things. They are a match made in hell, after all. Although, Chase most definitely regrets those words. Now he’d been saddled with a prick who won’t succumb to torture. Lame. No despair for him.
Irritating as John’s will was, it let Chase persue some exciting ideas. When you have an eternity of boredom on your hands, you get creative. Since John decided to stay, he’s been torn apart by feral, rabid rabbits, starved (more than once), been eaten by a sentient mushroom, shredded by one of those juvenile barber poles in the playroom... It’s been quite for him. Chase, however, has grown to hate this little tango of theirs.
He thought it would be fun, but no.
Eternity. Is.
Inane.