Squirrel Puppet Method

[ViolentMedic]

((Russell ‘Fitz’ Fitzroy continued from No Chance.))

Fitz was sitting alone on the beach, knees pulled up to his chest and his face buried in them. He had been in this position for long enough that whatever camera was focused on him was probably getting bored. His gun was still close, but not as close as it should been.

He remained in this state as the announcements crackled to life. He didn’t hurry to write them down like he had the last two days. When he finally dragged his hands to his bag – stuffed full with supplies belonging to the dead – the announcements were halfway done, though many of them had been accidents rather than murders.


Kitty – knife – IIIII - BKA
Janice – knife – II
Prz - ledge
B. Quinn – blunt - BKA
Jacob L – knife
Jess R – gun - II
Aracelis – bat
Jezz S – knife - II
Shu – barb wire
Dragon - ?
Joshua? - choke - BKA
Alex – spear
Letitia – gun
Demarcus – gun
Juanita – sharp/glass?


He stared at the list a fair bit longer, then he lifted it and held it a little closer to his face, charcoal lightly tapping every name with two dashes next to it. Then he put it down again, resting the list on the sand.

He sat in silence for a moment, then reached for the bag again and pulled out the fancy squirrel puppet. He slipped it on his hand. As he bobbed it up and down, he tried to pitch his voice up and put on a posh British accent. It didn’t work well – the two weren’t particularly compatible voices. He still sounded tired and hoarse, just with more voice cracks.

“Well, congratulations, Mr. Fitzroy. It seems that you’re the first, nay, only male double killer on the island. And how does that make you feel?” He paused, then in his normal voice said, “It feels shit, Mr. Fluffernutter.” He covered his face with his hands, unintentionally burying his face in the tiny squirrel again. “God. How did this happen?”

He lowered his hands, staring out at the sea. The sun was visible in a sliver of light over the ocean. It was inappropriately beautiful.

No-one else was filling the silence. So Fitz lifted the puppet again, facing it towards himself and talking through the corner of his mouth.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Mr. Fitzroy?” After leaving a period of silence, he tilted the puppet in a questioning way. “We could hunt down that fellow who’s caused it all. Tully and Mildred’s ghosts will be very mad if you don’t.”

“I don’t know… I don’t want to run back to any sort of fight. Though… catch Alex off-guard, and… it’s probably the one case where I could kill, and people would get it. At least they know he...”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he retrieved the choker from his hand – fingers brushing the teeth again as he did.

“But I don’t want to seem more crazy. That was fine at school. Not here,” he told the puppet. “Already talking to you. Bad sign.”

“This isn’t crazy,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, scrunching the puppet up a little. “This is just the ol’ Rubber Duck method. And you’re already doomed, old boy. There’s two tally marks next to your name. Only idiots would give you a second chance.”

Fitz lowered the puppet and pressed his other hand to his forehead, then pushed his beanie off so he could scratch the scalp beneath, his mess of blond hair sticking out at odd ends even more than usual. The choker was tangled in his fingers as he did.

“Don’t ignore me, Mr. Fitzroy,” he said, twitching the puppet in his hand as he did so. “I’m the only friend you have left. Unless you have a way to change that? Talk to me, old boy.”

Fitz sat there in silence, that question expressed through a squirrel puppet lingering in the air. He didn’t say anything, but one hand found the collar around his neck, clasping around it.

“Well, well,” he made the puppet say. “You are doomed anyway, after all. What harm could it be to try?”

Fitz pulled the puppet closer to his face, lowering his tone conspiratorially.

“The harm is that I don’t know how, Mr. Fluffernutter. Don’t you think I would have thought of something, if I could?”

Squirrel voice on.

“That’s what I’m here for! Bounce off those ideas, old boy!”

Squirrel voice off.

“Well, I can’t do the rubber duck method when there’s eyes around.” Squirrel voice on. “Ahhh, you’re embarrassed, I understand.” And off again. “I have never been embarrassed in my life. Look at what I’m wearing.” Fitz frowned at the puppet, then lowered it and lowered his head at the same time, shaking it as he stared at his lap. “...god. I’m really cracking, aren’t I?”

This time, Mr. Fluffernutter didn’t answer.

The sun was lightening the sky now.

“Fine. You and me, Mr. Fluffernutter,” he muttered, before he put the puppet back in his bag. He smoothed out the waistcoat to make sure it wasn’t wrinkling. “One way or another.” Out of the corner of his mouth he muttered, “Tally ho!”

He looked at the choker before departing, and put it on rather than place it back in his pocket. Cedar now a tight vice on his throat, right by the collar that forced him to play to their rules.

((Russell ‘Fitz’ Fitzroy continued in Knowing You.))