Tseng stepped around the corner towards the carousel with Rude following. The large Turk followed his leader and watched the area as they stepped over mutilated Pink rabbits and then passed cages with Holy only knew what. He ended up pausing by one to take in the details.
“Rude?” Tseng looked at him.
Rude looked at the contorted limbs wrapped around a rib cage which dripped with viscera as the internal organs writhed in erratic judders. Rude’s mesmerised hand extended towards it curious about how it worked when there appeared to be no central brain. Tseng didn’t like the idea of touching the caged victim but Rude’s hand was already touching the open flesh.
His glove began to burn and Rude pulled it away quickly and discarded it. His other was added to the pile and he looked at the strange figure before stepping back and grunting. Tseng rolled his eyes and moved over towards the horrid looking fairground attraction.
“Is this really something we want to be standing on if the power starts or something even freakier occurs?” Tseng said with a smirk putting one booted foot on to the metal steps and heading on to the ride.
Rude just shook his head and stood up on there behind him. His hands crossed together at his front as he watched Tseng’s movements. The Turks always seemed to like heading into trouble and always with a capital T and what if Sephiroth was here? Would they not be facing catastrophic pain?
Tseng was curious, so curious in fact that as he approached the fetid rotting horse he couldn’t help but touch it. He suddenly found that he was just as curious about the carousel as Rude had been about the caged messes. The horse’s saddle was wet when he touched the ageing leather. It felt like a wet sponge as his hand rested on it. He slapped the leather, blood spattered as it was expunged.
Rude watched, the carousel looked pretty harmless so he stepped on to it. Well it was as harmless as a blood spattered rotten looking thing could be… Rude never had been enamoured of funfairs. They simply had too many people, too many bright lights and even with a decent pair of shades all of the confusion led to keeping Rufus safe an almost impossible task.
What Rude liked even less was that he either stood on a trigger plate or some force of the supernatural and the carousel lit up. The music was like an old wind up box, some of the teeth would have to have been missing or perhaps just bent but the tune was off. It wasn’t even so badly out of tune that you couldn’t tell the tune. It made him stop dead in his tracks.
Fir Elise – he knew the tune so fucking well! He cursed. Reno would hum the blasted tue for hours, sticking in his ears, standing by the vending machine in the staff room. The guy loved it. Had a tiny music box that played it and he had told the big guy it was some toy he’d picked out of a trash can when he was in the slums. It had a couple of bent keys, the very same keys…
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