NaNoReno script (full script)

I finally settled on a small enough idea for a story that could be expanded on if I wanted to approach it later, but also works as a stand alone for NaNo game jam.

The only thing left is the bad end and it's finished!

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Bus Stop, 8:45 P.M.

“Ugh.”

The man next to you at the bus stop covers his nose and waves a hand in your general direction.

“Absolutely vile. Learn to take a shower and use soap for once in your life.”

Your eyes twitch at his condescending tone, his voice filled with judgment which is to be expected considering its coming from a guy in a fancy suit. 

Oh, how flattering. Just what I needed to hear after working 9 plus hours. 

You think in tired annoyance before flipping him off when he turns his back towards you.

He's still gagging, playing up his disgust as he creates a large amount of distance between you two, although not going too far so he can still catch the bus you're both waiting for. 

He's probably the sort that's never changed a diaper. You're certain of it. 

You sigh and lean against the small bench you parked yourself into when you couldn't remain standing any longer. 

Lifting your arm you sniff yourself and then wrinkle your nose.

Okay.

The jerk miiiiiiiiight have a point. 

You smell like a mix of blueberry slushie with hints of chocolate sundae thrown in. 

Not a bad combination. 

At least, not until you take into account that the scent mostly stems from someone vomiting all over your poor uniform. 

You tried to wash off and wring your shirt out in the bathroom sink as best as you could but…

Yeah, this shirt's probably coming out of your paycheck.

Maybe the smell didn't bother you so much since you've gotten used to it.

Currently, you work at Bobby an’ Bibbles, a family entertainment center that offers arcade games and egregious amounts of greasy foods that make your own stomach churn since you know how it's all prepped.

You're a hundred percent certain your workplace has violated about a dozen health code protocols. 

Take yesterday afternoon for instance.

You had a literal staring contest with a mouse stealing cheese off an uncooked pizza before it ran off, heading for a clear cut hole in the wall with open access to the counter.

And despite telling the manager about this, the manager demanded the pizza still get served.

They didn't even opt to throw it out. Just argued there was no time and then retreated back to their office. 

And that's not even the worst of the offenses.

Most of them were far more disgusting, but you've turned a blind eye each time. 

Well…

Not that you've got much of a choice. 

You're steeped in student loans and this is the only job that accepted you after months of endless searching. 

So in the end, you've learned to grit your teeth and bare it. 

You sigh again, letting your head rest against the back of the wooden bench, your head tilted up towards the darkened sky.

At least the day is almost over. 

You tell yourself.

What more can happen?

And then you wince because as soon as anyone says or even thinks those words, shit always hits the fan.

You look over at the man standing far away from you.

He's actively ignoring your presence which is fine by you since he's probably not going to be the thing that makes your night end up worse because you decided to jinx yourself.

Maybe the buses could wind up running late then? 

You try to predict the terrible luck that'll befall you when you hear harsh and heavy steps.

You glance over.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, holy shit the guy walking towards you is huge.

A massive bulk of a man.

You'd need climbing gear just to see him at eye level, he's that tall.

It's intimidating.

When he makes a grunting noise, you crane your neck to look up at his face, but he's wearing something over it. 

Like…a mask?

Oh, please say this guy isn't the result of your self inflicted jinx.

He's just some party go-er, right?

Probably with a costume theme considering his apron that looks like there's a few…red…splotches…right on the…

The “you are screwed” alarms start ringing in your head, sirens going off left and right, as your brain scrambles and tries to determine whether or not those are actual blood spatters or simply dollops of ketchup made to look like blood. 

You try to recall if you've seen anything on the news or true crime channels about masked murders in your area. 

But if you're being honest, the crime rates are astronomical in your city.

Despite the fact that you're currently near the outskirts, the place is a festering cesspool of criminals all congregating together in one area, and not even here is safe. 

You clench your fists on your lap.

Looking away, you see that the other man waiting for the bus walked off somewhere.

Great.

So now you're alone with this guy.

“...”

The hulking man doesn't say anything as he lowers himself onto the bench next to you.

You can hear him breathing.

Long drawn in breaths punctuating the quiet.

An involuntary shiver crawls down your spine and you scooch towards the other end of the bench, making as much space as possible between you and the hulking man.

It's then that your brain finally decides to remember the news report from this morning. 

“The body of a 34 year-old-man, identified as Raymond Maverick, was discovered strung up inside the gazebo of Winterberry Park yesterday evening from a young woman jogging in the area. Reports say that his wo-”

You shake the thought out of your head.

No that won't happen to you.

It can't.

Because that's-

You stop mid-thought when you realize that the masked man's head is turned…

And he's staring directly at you.

His breathing…

It's also heavier now.

Loud.

Resonant.

And his hand twitches in his lap like he's missing something in his hands.

Your heart thuds in your chest as you hold his gaze, feeling like a deer ready to sprint off at the sign of any sudden movement, bus be damned.

Speaking of which, it should've shown up by now.

Damn, you really wished you would've taken your trusty ole ballistic knife with you to work today, but then again you didn't think you'd run into trouble of this magnitude.

Maybe a normal sized person you could handle.

But this guy?

Yeah, best to avoid the worst scenario with him.

The man slowly looks away from you, though his breathing remains the same, making you shift uncomfortably. 

You debate on leaving at this point.

Just screw the bus and find a place to stay within the city for a night at some cheap motel with lipstick stains on the blankets and noisy neighbors. 

It's a viable option.

At least, until you remember all the things you need to do before tomorrow morning hits.

You can't weasel your way out of them. 

So…

You try to consider walking the distance home instead. It's three miles of gallivanting recklessly through the dark, but you're not sure you can stay any longer.

Not to mention, you're starting to wonder if the bus will even show up.

Then again there's also the possibility of the guy following you.

So staying is your second option. 

Dammit. What should you do here?

Choices: 

-Screw it. Try walking home.

-Create some distance by getting off the bench, but continue waiting.

Choice Picked:

-Create some distance by getting off the bench, but continue waiting.

You finally decide to just deal.

Sure he's an oddball, staring at you and wearing his get up…

But he's kept his hands to himself.

So you instead decide to get up and act like you're checking your bag for something as you walk away a few feet. 

Then you hear it…

The bench behind you creaks in complaint as the weight on it shifts and adjusts to the man's movement. 

You hear the crunch of gravel underneath heavy boots.

Crunch. 

Step.

Crunch.

Step. 

Crunch.

Step.

Your hand freezes in your bag. 

You can hear him standing behind you…

His breathing grows even louder, almost frantic, like a wolf salivating over a lamb he's finally decided to slaughter.

“Haaaaaaaaaah….haaaaaaaaah…haaaaaaaaaaaah…”

You can even  see the outline of his shadow consuming yours from beneath the street light you're both currently standing over, the yellow glow flickering like a scene taken straight out of a horror movie.

A drop of sweat trickles down your neck and you feel him shift.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. 

A hand creeps out…touches your shoulder…as you see his other arm start to rise, like he's about to lift something above his head…

And you finally give in…

You bolt back towards the direction of the city, bus be damned.

Your sneakers slap against the pavement and as your bag bangs your hip, but you ignore the pain it brings because now the man's giving chase. 

You can hear him eat up the distance between you two.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah….haaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

You want to scream, but you can't. 

Not to mention there's no one who'd hear you anyway.

Unless that guy with the cellphone is still hanging around the area somewhere.

But even then you figure he'd probably turn tail and run away, seeing as the hulking guy behind you would easily bulldoze over his much smaller and frailer frame.

You grit your teeth.

Tears spring to your eyes as the cold bite of air rushes past you. 

A splash of something wet drops against the exposed skin of your hands as you propel yourself forward with each step. 

Overhead the sky rumbles and a crack fissures the sky apart.

Because of course like every other slasher movie cliche…

It's now raining.

You grit your teeth as drops start pelting down at you, refusing to let the weather stop you from escaping.

Maybe it'll get bad enough that he won't see you through the storm, maybe-

You risk a glance over your shoulder.

And you scream. 

He's an arms length away from you and there's something in his hand that you can't quite make out because it's too dark to identify the thing.

You can see the item glint. 

A knife?

You doubt he's holding a gun or he probably would've shot you already. 

You assume it's undoubtedly a weapon. 

Turning your head back in the direction of your path as you push yourself to go even faster, demanding your body ignore the strain and the ache building at your side as you pant out frantic breaths, you try to make a goal for yourself to at least reach the park.

It's the closest area.

The body of a 34 year-old-man, identified as Raymond Maverick, was discovered strung up inside the gazebo of Winterberry Park yesterday-

You shake your head vigorously at the memory. 

That won't happen to you. 

It won't. 

You know it won't. 

“Haaaaaaaaaah…haaaaaaah….geeeeeeeeeet….baaaaaaaaaaaaaack…..heeeeeeeeere.”

A fingertip brushes against the back of your shirt right as you catch sight of the park's entrance and you make a sudden sharp turn, sending him stumbling forward and past you while you dart through the open gap in the rusted iron fencing. 

Weeds choke the stretches of landscape inside of the park, a swing sets chains rattling as the storm fights on, the seat slamming against the side of the metal poles holding the chain up. 

It's violent.

That sound. 

But not as violent as the man that is surely behind you. 

Thunder sparks and ignites the sky in a horrific glow as the downpour rages on.

Your clothes are practically soaked now as you make your way past the long abandoned basketball courts and jungle gyms and you reach the gazebo where officials found that body.

You've almost reached the top step of the gazebo when a large yard clamps down around your wrist.

You finally let yourself scream.

You thrash around violently as you're pulled back into the gazebo.

No.

No no no no no no no no no-!

The man's breathing hard as you battle him, but he seems unperturbed, keeping his hold.

“Let me go! Let me go!”

You scream, hissing and spitting. 

“haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah….haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaught……yooooooooooooou…”

The man lifts up what's in his hand and you wrench your eyes shut, refusing to give up fighting, but not wanting to see what comes next because you know what comes next.

You take a deep breath.

And you wait for the inevitable end…

Only…

…

…

…

? 

When the end doesn't come you open up your eyes and you see the hulking man holding something out to you.

Its…

A Keychain.

From one of your favorite shows.

“What…?”

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaah…haaaaaaah…Youuuuuuuuuuuuuu…dropped….iiiiiiiiiiit…whennnnnnnnnnnnnnn yoooooooooou….haaaaaaaaaaah…got uuuuuuuuuuuup.”

He says and you realize he's panting really hard, overexerting himself after finally catching up with you.

“You…followed me because you wanted to return a key chain?”

The man nods extremely fast, tapping his fingers togethers shyly. 

“Itssssssssssss….haaaaaaaaaah…a rare…haaaaaaaaaah…one….haaaaaaaaaaaah…right?”

You blink at the man who you thought wanted to murder you a second ago.

“Yeah, actually. Thanks…uhhhh…for returning it. But why didn't you say that in the first place?”

“Haaaaaaaaaaah…ran off…haaaaaaaah…before I could.”

You watch as he kicks the floor of a gazebo, getting closer to catching his breath as he starts forming more complete sentences. 

You sigh before sagging against the railing of the gazebo.

“Well, just…next time don't chase someone down. You're kinda…”

You gesture to his large massive body.

“Oh…”

You can almost feel the embarrassment and blush from coming beneath his mask.

“I'm sorry…”

He taps his pointer fingers together again in shame.

The wind whips around you and you're both quiet for a moment as you stare down at the keychain he returned.

“So, you knew quite a bit about this. Do you like Little Bunny Bons Burrow?”

Little Bunny Bon’s Burrow is a show animated in 1985 with a colorful cast of characters who all express themselves and their friendship in meaningful ways.

The show is targeted towards audiences of all ages, but it gained a pretty big adult following as well despite the themes presented as well as the colorful pastel animation, priding itself on touching the hearts of many.

Despite this knowledge, you're surprised when he nods.

“Haaaaaaaah…Penny….Bloom….haaaaaaaaaaah…always taught me…to return…haaaaaaah items haaaaaah to their rightful owner haaaaaaaaah.”

So he followed you at the advice of a beloved cartoon bunny. 

You could kind of get behind that.

Still…

“So…back to what happened…why were you staring at me earlier?”

The hulking man manages to look sheepish again despite wearing a creepy ass mask. 

“I thought….haaaaaaaaaaah…you were……haaaaaaaaaah…pretty…..haaaaaaaaaaah…and I wanted….haaaaaaaaaah…to paint you…haaaaaaaaaaah…”

You look down at the red splotches and notice there's other colors intermingled. 

An innocent explanation.

You want to smack your forehead.

But also…he called you pretty and you can't help but feel a little flattered at the compliment. 

The guys actually really just…a sweet character isn't he?

Sure, he really needed to do better on thinking before acting, but his intentions are pretty pure.

You think for a moment before taking out a small notepack from your tote bag before ripping off a sheet of paper, using a pen to scribble down your number and handing the torn parchment out to him.

“You know, I think I'd like to get a painting done by you. Here's my number so we can set up a time and a place.”

The hulking man practically radiates joy through his mask.

He tentatively takes the paper out of your hands and examines the numbers.

“Haaaaaaaah…really? Haaaaaaaaaaaaah.”

“Wouldn't have given out my number otherwise.”

And despite your crappy day, you grin at him.

“Now come on, big guy. We've got a bus to catch.”

The masked man, who scared the literal life out of you just minutes ago, bounces up and down on the heels on his feet as he answers with yet another nod and follows after you. 

On the way back to the bus stop and on the bus ride home, the two of you talk about Little Bunny Bons Burrow.

He tells you his favorite bunny is Autumn, a bunny who loves to paint like he does and he shows you a few of his art pieces, like a unicorn holding a tea party with a stuffed bear or a frog sitting under a rainbow.

You wave at him when you get off the bus and he eagerly waves back before you turn down your street and head home.

When you enter your house, you drop your bag onto the floor.

Exhaustion pours off you in waves.

But your day isn't over yet.

You sigh as you head over to the bathroom and flick on the lights.

A name tag belonging to your manager rests on the lip of the sink and you bring the piece of plastic up towards the light.

Blood crusts around Raymond Mavericks' name.

You smile remembering how you managed to lure him home yesterday evening and sprung on him when he turned his back toward you. 

He screamed and screamed as you tore into him with your knife.

He kept asking “why, why, why, why?”

You never did tell him in the end.

Let him rot in hell guessing.

But you know the corrupt things he does at your work.

You mentioned there were far worse things that happened and there were.

Things he did that only a monster would do.

He deserves what he got in the end.

You'd do it over again.

And you have. 

Many times over with other people.

Taking the ballistic knife, you begin to work on methodically cleaning it off, watching as silver shines through from underneath the crimson stains adorning it. 

You couldn't bring it with you today due to needing to get rid of the DNA evidence left behind from yesterday.

You'll need to grab more bleach from your shed out back for the bathtub.

You'll need to pull an all-nighter because you're sure the police will come and start asking questions to those who knew him, but you'll fly under the radar because you have before.

Typically you don't get close to the people you kill…

But Raymond and that other guy were a special case.

Horrible people.

They weren't pure of heart…

But that man…the masked man…

Theodore. 

He was sweet.

The world probably easily takes advantage of a guy like that.

But you?

You'll protect him from the evils of the world.

You'll do anything and everything to preserve that.

Whether he knows it or not he can count on it.