Post by reireithepandanater on Jan 13, 2015 16:11:09 GMT -5
"So, John." The words of the journalist on the opposite side of the table rung through John Cryptus' conscious mind. He was reeled away from the rather pleasant day dreams he was having. With a slight expression of curiosity, he glanced at the male on the other side of the table and waited for him to continue on. "Would you mind telling me about your connections with Cartels and Drug Lords within this country?" John couldn't help but smirk. Here in this penitentiary, he didn't have anything but the orange suit that engulfed his body and the pair of handcuffs that restrained him. His lips were free from any sort of threads, so he could speak freely to whoever he desired. The man across from John only waited patiently, as if waiting to see if John will so easily spill his secrets.
John cleared his throat and glanced off in a different direction. "Anthony, right?" He asked the journalist. "Normally, I wouldn't even bother divulging such information on such short notice. Especially to someone I just met. Except..." John's words trailed off as he seemed to be losing himself in his thoughts. Suddenly, breaking this process himself, John's eyes suddenly locked onto the cobalt eyes of the brown haired man. John's vermilion red pupils only seemed to get smaller, as if hiding some evil intention of spilling "Anthony's" guts all over the table. John's obsidian irises only further supported this hidden desire. Anthony was preparing himself for the worst that wasn't coming. John's intense gaze lightened as a hearty chuckle erupted from him.
"Since you're the first visitor I've had since being locked up in this play house, I guess I'll give you the opportunity to hear my tales. Although, you're only getting up from just before I enveloped myself in that world and from there on. Anything else before that is going to be kept only to me. Don't even bother looking afterwards, for you won't find any records of me before hand. Understood?" No records of him before hand? Honestly, the idea that someone not even really being kept on record as if they never existed was a ludicrous thought to Anthony. Even though the thought was ridiculous, the guard nearby only nodded. It was true, there was absolutely no record of John before the very first record they had of him.
"Now, where to begin? Ah yes...there seems to be delightful." Oddly, John felt the need to consult with himself for a moment before he even bothered to tell even the slightest bit of information to Anthony. With a soft smile spread across John's face, he finally began to speak. "Where we begin would be back when I came to this city. Yes, that's right. Everything started here. I'm sure you're aware of the High-school here? Chances are, you might've went there I take it. Well, anyways. I was walking by there one fateful afternoon, just to admire the learning facilities. You see, if it isn't obvious, I'm not from around here. My eyes are more than a good enough hint." He said with an amusing tone. Clearly, something about this all was funny to John, yet Anthony was only confused. He just sat there, recording the conversation on his phone.
"Well, it just so happened to be that one of the students there was having his own little smoking circle. They were having quite the fun with plenty of different drugs, see. Normally, people don't approach me because of my intimidating appearance, but when they're completely out of their minds, it doesn't really matter. Delightful really. First people not to back away when they see me approach. Well, point being. I got slightly interested and figured that if I got involved with the distribution of narcotics, then I would be able to make some decent cash to do things differently in my life. I mean, seriously. A small apartment that has barely enough room to fit my things in? Truly, a pain to even try to stay in." Anthony could understand to a certain extent on the money making, but he intended on remaining silent for he felt as if things would turn out horribly if he even bothered to interrupt this inhuman looking man.
"Lady luck was on my side that afternoon. Turned out that one of the kids had a connection with the very dealer he got it off of. That dealer was connected to other dealers, and some of those other dealers were connected to Cartels. When I first started, they were beyond skeptical of how I was going to get anything done. I mean, seriously. Anyone could pick me out from a crowd. They thought that until I brought them back supplies, money people owed them, and even dragged in a couple of people for them to use in their business. By that...I mean sacrificial pawns." It was clear to Anthony as to what he meant. The small people who could be used in drug deals without having any real connections to the dealers, so this way there's no real way to connect anything to the dealers or their "posse" in a sense.
John was about to carry on with his story, but he paused for a moment as if he was collecting his thoughts. Anthony was about to say a word to see if everything was all right, but John suddenly snapped back into reality. "My apologies, I do that from time to time. Where was I? Oh yes. Once they saw what I was capable of, they didn't have any plans for simply tossing me away. In their world, I earned the name 'Wraith.' Why was this? Simple... I could go in, do a job and leave without making a big fuss or alerting the authorities. I was a Ghost and everyone knew it. My reputation was very fast growing in the world of drugs and eventually, I became a dealer myself. I never formed my own Cartel or had underlings, I worked alone and had nothing but connections. Just so no one could track me, and since there was little to no record of me in any system, just how was anyone going to find me?" The way he spoke, he spoke with pride. Like everything he done was a grand accomplishment in his life and that he'd gladly do it again. Just like John's eyes, this fact unnerved Anthony.
"Such things like this was nothing more than mere child's play for me. It was interesting, yes. Although, the rush I would get from doing such 'business transactions' quickly evaporated. That's when my game stepped up exponentially. I'm sure you're more than aware of the Serial Killer who had struck several times? Yeah...that was me. Everyone here is aware of it, the government has already sentenced me for it, it just hasn't made the papers quite yet. Really, it was quite fun, especially when they called they called me...The Puppeteer. A rather fitting name really." Anthony was more than aware of these homicides. A person sick enough to remove the intestines from their victims, then sew them onto the victim's bodies. After that, the killer then hung the victims up as if they were a Marionette hanging off a peg. The story made the news on several ocassions, but only due to the mass number of victims. Twenty-seven victims in a matter of four weeks. One for each day of the month except for the remaining three days of that horrific November.
A sick and twisted smile spread across John's face, showing the sheer delight in the fact that Anthony was more than aware of everything that was done. A shudder ran down Anthony's spine which only seemed to delight John even further. "Things have been well known with the murders I've committed. Except for one crucial fact that wasn't ever released to the public." This last bit only seemed to bring excitement to John's eyes. The man who stood by as a Guard was listening intently and watching carefully to make sure John wouldn't try anything. Anthony was curious but he also felt like it was something he shouldn't know. Hesitantly, he persisted John to carry on. With a wicked smile, John's words rang out in the air and struck at every nerve of Anthony's. "Not only were the victim's bodies were made into marionettes, but their hearts were torn from their chests and held in their hands. Then, each and every officer was thrown into a trance at what happened next. Each and every victim was forced to dance like an actual marionette until every organ of theirs spilled from their body in a bloody torrent. Then, they kept dancing faster and faster until their bodies fell a part. Why? Because I tore every joint well enough that with just enough movement, their bodies would rip themselves a part."
The powerful imagery John had just given the two men in the room with him had unsettled both of their stomachs and nerves. Both men were aware of this, but surprisingly Anthony held his composure quite well. The guard on the other hand shared the remnants of his lunch that was still digesting in his stomach with the floor. This of course in turn almost did the same to Anthony. Although, he held strong with his will and refused to give in to John's desires. The guard stepped out of the room to switch places with someone else, but that is of course not until he cleaned up the mess he made. John waited and watched the guard quietly as he waited for someone to switch places with him. The smile that was spread across John's face told Anthony how disturbed John really was. Anthony knew that John deserved to be locked up here for life, but Anthony just knew far to little about John. So, it didn't really matter at this point, for Anthony's feelings were irrelevant to John.
As the new guard switched places with the old one, John glanced back over to Anthony. "I controlled the victims myself with strings from a hidden area in the crime scene. They never caught me because of those murders." He said in a delighted tone, as if he were reminiscing over the thoughts of the carnage he produced. The delightful tone disappeared in an instant as John continued on. "You see, I wasn't caught because of just drug dealing for murdering. I was caught after I had so lovingly done both. I was caught at the mass murder in a local construction yard. You heard of that one I take it. Before you even think about asking about it, I was caught because I wanted to be caught. After I killed all of the drug dealers there who had gathered for a rather big meeting, I just sat there and waited for the authorities to come. Why you might think or even ask? Because I was bored and I wanted to see what life was like behind bars. I could escape anytime I want to and there's nothing anyone here can do about it. But, I stay quiet and enjoy my time here only for the entertainment." Originally, Anthony had come to ask a Drug Dealer questions about life as a dealer to put on the paper. Instead, he got the story of a full fledged serial killer that was beyond disturbing. At this point, he didn't even think any of the material could go into the paper now.
"As a dealer, things were interesting. I got plenty of money, I got to spend lovely time in a quiet house by myself and away from the prying eyes of humans. Tranquility is the best way to describe how I felt." This in itself only confused Anthony. For the first time since this "interview" started, Anthony spoke up. "If your life was so peaceful, then why would you give up the peace so easily?" John was a bit surprised to finally hear Anthony speak up, but only laughed in response. "Ah, that's quite simple my boy! It's because I was bored. There wasn't enough carnage, not enough fun, not enough...sin in my life. Well, can't say there wasn't Sin. Sloth and Lust were definitely two of the most important ones. Lazing around half the time, then most of the remaining time spent with the women who dared to try and get in my pants. They didn't understand at the time that I'm a sadist, even more so...some of those women became my victims." He said with a slight laugh. Anthony was a bit more concerned at this point, feeling that he wouldn't be able to be safe around John for much longer.
"So, I left the peace and tranquility to do the very thing I enjoyed. Spreading that lovely carnage and basking in the aftermath." His last few words struck a chord with the guard, arousing the man's suspicions. "Basking in the aftermath." These were his words. This guard wasn't aware of what John did with his victims, but there was also a lot more that he did. "Well, I finally got sick of seeing their faces and just got rid of them. All of the Drug Dealers that were there. Some pretty high up people in the drug business. A few people who ran their own Cartels, then a few more highly wanted drug lords. Or whatever you want to call them. I never really cared to much about the lingo, so I just called them as I see fit." With that, Anthony finally felt that he had enough of this absurd story telling. With a clearing of his throat, Anthony forced himself to his feet from the chair he sat in. "I'm sorry Mr. Cryptus, but I think I have all I need. Thank you for your time, but I really must be going."
Just as Anthony was getting ready to grab his jacket and leave, John spoke up before he could end the recording. "Coffee beans." He said with a faint smirk, which obviously brought Anthony to a stop. He was confused as to what he meant by this, but as much as he wanted to leave, his confusion and curiosity got the better of him. "Excuse me?" These were the only words he could bring himself to say, but it only brought a beaming smile to John's face. "You see, it's an old trick. Burning coffee beans takes away the smell of death. Surprising really as to how well it works. There was more than the Twenty-seven victims. In the month of November, there was a recorded of Twenty-seven victims killed except for the remaining three days of the month. What you don't realize, on the last three days...there was a total of Seventeen more victims in those three days alone." Seventeen?! The idea was utterly preposterous to Anthony and even more so, it forced the guard to take action. In one moment, the guard opened the door and several officers that worked in the penitentiary stormed into the room.
"In the first and second apartments I've had since I moved in to this city is where the bodies are. The thing is though...in one there is only bodies. The other one...has each of their decapitated heads nailed to the walls like portraits." John's words were full of escalating excitement, showing just how much this entire scene filled him with joy. The sheer rush he got from the fact that he got away with such sick and twisted acts was more than apparent by the expression spread across his face. Anthony was rushed out of the room as John himself was taken elsewhere to be further interrogated. As Anthony walked out into the parking lot of the penitentiary, he couldn't help but have a mental recap that everything that just happened actually did happen. That none of this was a dream and that for a fact he was in front of a full fledged serial killer.
Within the next few days, there were numerous reports on the news about the discoveries of such horrendous acts against the city by this single man. Labelled as this centuries worst Serial Killer. There was even a news report with Anthony Hobbs, the very man who had spoken with John. Anthony's words were spoken very carefully. "John Cryptus...He's nothing more than a monster. I had the time to actually talk with this man and it was an experience I never should have gone through. He told me everything he did, the way he did it, and the way he told me it all with such enjoyment...like he was proud of his heinous acts. He's nothing more than a monster, and anyone can tell just my looking at those eyes of his. They reflect the very essence of his vile nature and it would be best if he was never released from prison." These were the words that Anthony had chosen so wisely to reflect the very being that John was. What Anthony wasn't aware of is that the word monster is nothing more than a compliment. A compliment as to what this being truly was.
As reports continued on throughout the city, none were aware that John H. Cryptus was held within a federal prison. Far away from any prying eyes. It was here in which he sat rather delightfully within his solitary cell. The darkness that enveloped him in the room gave him the very time to himself that he wanted. Things were interesting and now he was directly in the center of where all monstrosities like himself are held away from humanity. For a week he has sat quietly with the same smile spread across his face. Each and everyday, he would sit there counting every second of the day away, but in reverse. As if he was counting down to something. As someone came to give John food that no one there thought he deserved, all that could be heard that day was the faint counting coming from John and the sound of clanking metal. As the man neared John's cell, those very same vermilion pupils pierced through the darkness towards where the man with his food would appear. With a sadistic smile coming across his features, the world was soon to know the name of John H. Cryptus. And so, the very thing he had waited for finally came to where he needed it to be and the curtain of this play was about to rise. "One Mississippi."
John cleared his throat and glanced off in a different direction. "Anthony, right?" He asked the journalist. "Normally, I wouldn't even bother divulging such information on such short notice. Especially to someone I just met. Except..." John's words trailed off as he seemed to be losing himself in his thoughts. Suddenly, breaking this process himself, John's eyes suddenly locked onto the cobalt eyes of the brown haired man. John's vermilion red pupils only seemed to get smaller, as if hiding some evil intention of spilling "Anthony's" guts all over the table. John's obsidian irises only further supported this hidden desire. Anthony was preparing himself for the worst that wasn't coming. John's intense gaze lightened as a hearty chuckle erupted from him.
"Since you're the first visitor I've had since being locked up in this play house, I guess I'll give you the opportunity to hear my tales. Although, you're only getting up from just before I enveloped myself in that world and from there on. Anything else before that is going to be kept only to me. Don't even bother looking afterwards, for you won't find any records of me before hand. Understood?" No records of him before hand? Honestly, the idea that someone not even really being kept on record as if they never existed was a ludicrous thought to Anthony. Even though the thought was ridiculous, the guard nearby only nodded. It was true, there was absolutely no record of John before the very first record they had of him.
"Now, where to begin? Ah yes...there seems to be delightful." Oddly, John felt the need to consult with himself for a moment before he even bothered to tell even the slightest bit of information to Anthony. With a soft smile spread across John's face, he finally began to speak. "Where we begin would be back when I came to this city. Yes, that's right. Everything started here. I'm sure you're aware of the High-school here? Chances are, you might've went there I take it. Well, anyways. I was walking by there one fateful afternoon, just to admire the learning facilities. You see, if it isn't obvious, I'm not from around here. My eyes are more than a good enough hint." He said with an amusing tone. Clearly, something about this all was funny to John, yet Anthony was only confused. He just sat there, recording the conversation on his phone.
"Well, it just so happened to be that one of the students there was having his own little smoking circle. They were having quite the fun with plenty of different drugs, see. Normally, people don't approach me because of my intimidating appearance, but when they're completely out of their minds, it doesn't really matter. Delightful really. First people not to back away when they see me approach. Well, point being. I got slightly interested and figured that if I got involved with the distribution of narcotics, then I would be able to make some decent cash to do things differently in my life. I mean, seriously. A small apartment that has barely enough room to fit my things in? Truly, a pain to even try to stay in." Anthony could understand to a certain extent on the money making, but he intended on remaining silent for he felt as if things would turn out horribly if he even bothered to interrupt this inhuman looking man.
"Lady luck was on my side that afternoon. Turned out that one of the kids had a connection with the very dealer he got it off of. That dealer was connected to other dealers, and some of those other dealers were connected to Cartels. When I first started, they were beyond skeptical of how I was going to get anything done. I mean, seriously. Anyone could pick me out from a crowd. They thought that until I brought them back supplies, money people owed them, and even dragged in a couple of people for them to use in their business. By that...I mean sacrificial pawns." It was clear to Anthony as to what he meant. The small people who could be used in drug deals without having any real connections to the dealers, so this way there's no real way to connect anything to the dealers or their "posse" in a sense.
John was about to carry on with his story, but he paused for a moment as if he was collecting his thoughts. Anthony was about to say a word to see if everything was all right, but John suddenly snapped back into reality. "My apologies, I do that from time to time. Where was I? Oh yes. Once they saw what I was capable of, they didn't have any plans for simply tossing me away. In their world, I earned the name 'Wraith.' Why was this? Simple... I could go in, do a job and leave without making a big fuss or alerting the authorities. I was a Ghost and everyone knew it. My reputation was very fast growing in the world of drugs and eventually, I became a dealer myself. I never formed my own Cartel or had underlings, I worked alone and had nothing but connections. Just so no one could track me, and since there was little to no record of me in any system, just how was anyone going to find me?" The way he spoke, he spoke with pride. Like everything he done was a grand accomplishment in his life and that he'd gladly do it again. Just like John's eyes, this fact unnerved Anthony.
"Such things like this was nothing more than mere child's play for me. It was interesting, yes. Although, the rush I would get from doing such 'business transactions' quickly evaporated. That's when my game stepped up exponentially. I'm sure you're more than aware of the Serial Killer who had struck several times? Yeah...that was me. Everyone here is aware of it, the government has already sentenced me for it, it just hasn't made the papers quite yet. Really, it was quite fun, especially when they called they called me...The Puppeteer. A rather fitting name really." Anthony was more than aware of these homicides. A person sick enough to remove the intestines from their victims, then sew them onto the victim's bodies. After that, the killer then hung the victims up as if they were a Marionette hanging off a peg. The story made the news on several ocassions, but only due to the mass number of victims. Twenty-seven victims in a matter of four weeks. One for each day of the month except for the remaining three days of that horrific November.
A sick and twisted smile spread across John's face, showing the sheer delight in the fact that Anthony was more than aware of everything that was done. A shudder ran down Anthony's spine which only seemed to delight John even further. "Things have been well known with the murders I've committed. Except for one crucial fact that wasn't ever released to the public." This last bit only seemed to bring excitement to John's eyes. The man who stood by as a Guard was listening intently and watching carefully to make sure John wouldn't try anything. Anthony was curious but he also felt like it was something he shouldn't know. Hesitantly, he persisted John to carry on. With a wicked smile, John's words rang out in the air and struck at every nerve of Anthony's. "Not only were the victim's bodies were made into marionettes, but their hearts were torn from their chests and held in their hands. Then, each and every officer was thrown into a trance at what happened next. Each and every victim was forced to dance like an actual marionette until every organ of theirs spilled from their body in a bloody torrent. Then, they kept dancing faster and faster until their bodies fell a part. Why? Because I tore every joint well enough that with just enough movement, their bodies would rip themselves a part."
The powerful imagery John had just given the two men in the room with him had unsettled both of their stomachs and nerves. Both men were aware of this, but surprisingly Anthony held his composure quite well. The guard on the other hand shared the remnants of his lunch that was still digesting in his stomach with the floor. This of course in turn almost did the same to Anthony. Although, he held strong with his will and refused to give in to John's desires. The guard stepped out of the room to switch places with someone else, but that is of course not until he cleaned up the mess he made. John waited and watched the guard quietly as he waited for someone to switch places with him. The smile that was spread across John's face told Anthony how disturbed John really was. Anthony knew that John deserved to be locked up here for life, but Anthony just knew far to little about John. So, it didn't really matter at this point, for Anthony's feelings were irrelevant to John.
As the new guard switched places with the old one, John glanced back over to Anthony. "I controlled the victims myself with strings from a hidden area in the crime scene. They never caught me because of those murders." He said in a delighted tone, as if he were reminiscing over the thoughts of the carnage he produced. The delightful tone disappeared in an instant as John continued on. "You see, I wasn't caught because of just drug dealing for murdering. I was caught after I had so lovingly done both. I was caught at the mass murder in a local construction yard. You heard of that one I take it. Before you even think about asking about it, I was caught because I wanted to be caught. After I killed all of the drug dealers there who had gathered for a rather big meeting, I just sat there and waited for the authorities to come. Why you might think or even ask? Because I was bored and I wanted to see what life was like behind bars. I could escape anytime I want to and there's nothing anyone here can do about it. But, I stay quiet and enjoy my time here only for the entertainment." Originally, Anthony had come to ask a Drug Dealer questions about life as a dealer to put on the paper. Instead, he got the story of a full fledged serial killer that was beyond disturbing. At this point, he didn't even think any of the material could go into the paper now.
"As a dealer, things were interesting. I got plenty of money, I got to spend lovely time in a quiet house by myself and away from the prying eyes of humans. Tranquility is the best way to describe how I felt." This in itself only confused Anthony. For the first time since this "interview" started, Anthony spoke up. "If your life was so peaceful, then why would you give up the peace so easily?" John was a bit surprised to finally hear Anthony speak up, but only laughed in response. "Ah, that's quite simple my boy! It's because I was bored. There wasn't enough carnage, not enough fun, not enough...sin in my life. Well, can't say there wasn't Sin. Sloth and Lust were definitely two of the most important ones. Lazing around half the time, then most of the remaining time spent with the women who dared to try and get in my pants. They didn't understand at the time that I'm a sadist, even more so...some of those women became my victims." He said with a slight laugh. Anthony was a bit more concerned at this point, feeling that he wouldn't be able to be safe around John for much longer.
"So, I left the peace and tranquility to do the very thing I enjoyed. Spreading that lovely carnage and basking in the aftermath." His last few words struck a chord with the guard, arousing the man's suspicions. "Basking in the aftermath." These were his words. This guard wasn't aware of what John did with his victims, but there was also a lot more that he did. "Well, I finally got sick of seeing their faces and just got rid of them. All of the Drug Dealers that were there. Some pretty high up people in the drug business. A few people who ran their own Cartels, then a few more highly wanted drug lords. Or whatever you want to call them. I never really cared to much about the lingo, so I just called them as I see fit." With that, Anthony finally felt that he had enough of this absurd story telling. With a clearing of his throat, Anthony forced himself to his feet from the chair he sat in. "I'm sorry Mr. Cryptus, but I think I have all I need. Thank you for your time, but I really must be going."
Just as Anthony was getting ready to grab his jacket and leave, John spoke up before he could end the recording. "Coffee beans." He said with a faint smirk, which obviously brought Anthony to a stop. He was confused as to what he meant by this, but as much as he wanted to leave, his confusion and curiosity got the better of him. "Excuse me?" These were the only words he could bring himself to say, but it only brought a beaming smile to John's face. "You see, it's an old trick. Burning coffee beans takes away the smell of death. Surprising really as to how well it works. There was more than the Twenty-seven victims. In the month of November, there was a recorded of Twenty-seven victims killed except for the remaining three days of the month. What you don't realize, on the last three days...there was a total of Seventeen more victims in those three days alone." Seventeen?! The idea was utterly preposterous to Anthony and even more so, it forced the guard to take action. In one moment, the guard opened the door and several officers that worked in the penitentiary stormed into the room.
"In the first and second apartments I've had since I moved in to this city is where the bodies are. The thing is though...in one there is only bodies. The other one...has each of their decapitated heads nailed to the walls like portraits." John's words were full of escalating excitement, showing just how much this entire scene filled him with joy. The sheer rush he got from the fact that he got away with such sick and twisted acts was more than apparent by the expression spread across his face. Anthony was rushed out of the room as John himself was taken elsewhere to be further interrogated. As Anthony walked out into the parking lot of the penitentiary, he couldn't help but have a mental recap that everything that just happened actually did happen. That none of this was a dream and that for a fact he was in front of a full fledged serial killer.
Within the next few days, there were numerous reports on the news about the discoveries of such horrendous acts against the city by this single man. Labelled as this centuries worst Serial Killer. There was even a news report with Anthony Hobbs, the very man who had spoken with John. Anthony's words were spoken very carefully. "John Cryptus...He's nothing more than a monster. I had the time to actually talk with this man and it was an experience I never should have gone through. He told me everything he did, the way he did it, and the way he told me it all with such enjoyment...like he was proud of his heinous acts. He's nothing more than a monster, and anyone can tell just my looking at those eyes of his. They reflect the very essence of his vile nature and it would be best if he was never released from prison." These were the words that Anthony had chosen so wisely to reflect the very being that John was. What Anthony wasn't aware of is that the word monster is nothing more than a compliment. A compliment as to what this being truly was.
As reports continued on throughout the city, none were aware that John H. Cryptus was held within a federal prison. Far away from any prying eyes. It was here in which he sat rather delightfully within his solitary cell. The darkness that enveloped him in the room gave him the very time to himself that he wanted. Things were interesting and now he was directly in the center of where all monstrosities like himself are held away from humanity. For a week he has sat quietly with the same smile spread across his face. Each and everyday, he would sit there counting every second of the day away, but in reverse. As if he was counting down to something. As someone came to give John food that no one there thought he deserved, all that could be heard that day was the faint counting coming from John and the sound of clanking metal. As the man neared John's cell, those very same vermilion pupils pierced through the darkness towards where the man with his food would appear. With a sadistic smile coming across his features, the world was soon to know the name of John H. Cryptus. And so, the very thing he had waited for finally came to where he needed it to be and the curtain of this play was about to rise. "One Mississippi."