How Spicy came to Salem
…It was a sunny day. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and it was hot. Pretty normal here in Salem to have such weather. The Escorts were bustling about, looking for people to spend the night with, and the Investigator and the Sheriff were sharing their findings.
Meanwhile, Desert, Sondz, Ghosty and Addfire were at the local bar, just trying to avoid the heat. They were just being themselves, and they were laughing so hard from a joke that Sondz just brought up. It was about one of the hosts here at the pub, or rather, “Admins”, as they liked to be called. Overall, everyone was having fun, striking down new careers, making jokes about each other’s clothing, and role-playing was always a thing in the southern corner of the bar.
Suddenly, Desert noticed something. “You see that guys?”
“What?” “Huh?” “Something up?”
“…the sky just got darker.” And it was true. Dark clouds were beginning to form, and people could see (what they presumed to be) the Werewolf, the Serial Killer, all those bastards that Town called Neutral?
They’d emerged. And people were dying left and right, whether it being mauled, stabbed in the gut, or burned alive. You could see blood, staining the grass red once more. The Mafia, for once, didn’t even appear, just from the sheer chaos. The two Godfather brothers were literally sitting right there, in the bar, and they’d been chatting with their Mafia people, perhaps even arguing with each other. There was no way they’d be going out in that weather.
“Hold up, I think I see something!” Ghosty, despite being the Jester, saw something in the distance. Yes, a new visitor perhaps.
Sondz took a gander. “Hold up… is that a motorcycle?”
And yes, a figure in the distance, only a shadow from the distance, was riding a motorcycle, directly driving here to the Salem village. Someone had yelled: “The Fallen Investigator has returned!”
What? Fallen Investigator? That was only a myth in the history books.
But it was true. The figure- no, it was a skeleton, it’d appeared- they wore a blue fedora, with a gray hoodie, with dark, thick black fur lining the hood. He was wearing, well, quite fashionable shades. They skidded right to the entrance of the bar, kicking up dirt. And out of the dust? He emerged.
He opened the door, and lifted his shades.
“Oh god, his eyelights are RED?” IT was true. Unlike the other skeletons that’d come in and out of the town, this skeleton? His eyelights were proper blood-red.
And the first thing that he said?
“Wow, this is a Town if I damn see one.”
The bar was silent. Would they welcome this newcomer, who would probably die out there as a noob? Or would they leave him alone, and lose out on one of the most powerful (and useless) roles ever?
Zed, the Sheriff, walked up to the newcomer, emerging from behind the counter. “So, Fallen Investigator, eh? How is that gonna help all this bloodshed outside? You literally just popped in here!”
The skeleton laughed. “Well, if you asked so…” He shrugged. “I can do some things here and there.” His voice had some kind of freshness, yet he’d also appeared to be, well, pretty experienced. He walked out, opening the door, and taking in a look of the entire scenery. There were Serial Killers, Werewolves, Arsonists, and now Vampires, not to mention the Vigilantes and Vampire Hunters who were trying to fight back. They couldn’t, their shotguns and bullets being completely destroyed by the Neutral force that was overtaking the Town. Soon, they’d come here to the bar as well.
“Well. Shit. I got a bit of work to do.” Suddenly, everything was happening at once. He teleported onto the roof of the Transporter, who was trying to move things around but got doused and burned by two Arsonists. And what happened?
Blood stained bones emerged from the ground, knocking the torches and cans out of the Arsonists. He then jumped down, taking out these guys with a punch and a kick, and firing his ivory pistol for the finishing blow. He then ran on, towards the three Werewolves who’d appeared on this apocalyptic day. “Cheerios!” More blood stained bones, now literally spiked, stabbed the Werewolves in the back. And before the Werewolves could counter-attack, he hopped.
“IS HE WALKING ON AIR? WTF"
It was true. He was now bouncing mid-air, and shooting his pistol at the Werewolves, right between the eyes, and another stab? They’d been killed.
Now it was just the five Serial Killers. The brave skeleton had come back, once again, onto the ground. And before he could even turn?
“Oh no. He’s been stabbed in the rib!”
And it was true. Their only hope had been vanquished. No more role-playing, no more drinks, no more jokes… it’d all come to an e-
“Wait a minute! What is he doing?”
It’s true. The skeleton who’d been bleeding literally from a gash in the ribs, and from his mouth? He’d smiled. “Heh. You thought you could get rid of me, huh?"
" Well I’m telling you… as long as my name is Spicy. I. CAN’T. EVER. DIE.” Suddenly, his right eye flashed a brilliant shade of red, and ruby bones popped from the ground, knocking all of the knives down. And above him?
A large blaster, with four red eyes, blasted down on the killers. All that was left was dust.
Spicy put his shades back on, and walked back into the bar. Despite all the horror that’d just happened, the clouds were beginning to fade.
And the people in the bar? Ghosty stood up. “Well damn be it, if you don’t join Salem! So how about it?”
Spicy grinned. “That’s why I came here, y’know. Besides…
w h o w o u l d w a n t t o l e a v e t h i s p l a c e?”