Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-32663439-20150625151152/@comment-25038310-20150702132527

As the tip of the pencil broke off, Randell sighed. The sentence he had been writing had abruptly ended, and demotivated him from continuing for some obscure reason. He sighed again, before heading to the bathroom.

As he closed the door behind him and pressed the switch that illuminated the room, it flickered, and blacked out. He cursed, annoyed. He pressed the switch multiple times, before it eventually worked.

In the mirror in front of him stood not just himself, but also another individual. The man, with short, messy black hair, a bloodied face and a messy black duster coat grinned.

Randell wasn't surprised. The visual hallucination provided him with an abscence of solitude. The man in the mirror wasn't real - although he looked very real to him. Others couldn't see him. His brother was but a figment of his sinister and twisted mind. Something that had planted itself within his consciousness to punish him and bless him at the same time.

"Missed me? You see, Randell.. you cannot continue living with the illusion that you'll ever get rid of me." The figure started, talking to Randell's reflection in the mirror. "You know, you thought a bullet to my brain would stop me. Unfortunately, I'm stronger than ever now. My little blood cells, as we speak, are slowly reproducing and taking a hold of your body as we speak. Soon, it will be me that will be donning that leather jacket and mask - not you. Not anymore."

The hallucination, or visual representation of Randell's brother frantically walked through the bathroom, in circles.

"Oh oh oh, I must prepare for the occasion! Soon, everything will fall into place! We're like a dynamic duo now, aren't we?! Randell and Jordan - brothers in crime!"

He pretended to hold an imaginary microphone, and pointed at Randell.

"In the left corneurr, we have.. Randell! This murderer and thief, tonight and forever, is paired against... the one, the only - Jordan, of course! Me!"

He maniacly chuckled, while Randell still gazed at him from the corners of his eyes. He never replied to this hallucination - not even when he was alone. He always tried reminding himself that it was all a hallucination. A visual imaginary figment. Talking to such a thing would distill a madness that not even he himself would control.

When he turned to head out of the bathroom again, the trenchcoated figure looked through the scope of the sniper rifle that stood close to the window.

"You know, you haven't made shit of a living.. still! I'm surprised you managed to survive this long without me!"

Randell sat longout on the bed, rubbing his tempels as he tried to ignore the hallucination's muttering.

"Hey! That's a pretty nice arena! Whaddya say we scope the place out?! It could be fun! We could spectate or participate ourselves?! How cool could that be?! What could go wrong?! Oh boy, we're gonna have so much fun! "

''Fuck off.. Just, fuck off! ''Randell thought, trying to cover his ears like some kind of infant child.

"Hey! I can fucking hear what you're thinking, you bastard! Oh Randell.. I'm surprised you don't even have an ounce of regret about what happened - not even now! Tsk tsk tsk. You shouldn't be like that, brother.. Ugh.." The brother turned around, falling silent. Jordan had dissapeared once again.

Randell fell on the bed, placing his arms behind his head as he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. His brother's appearance had a hyperventilating effect on him. Something was always off with him. It wouldn't turn out in his favor if he were in some sort of fight or on a mission.