The Artist, Layer 2

>You press play on the portable DVD player.
>"Well hello, here we are again, ready to do a fantastic painting together."
"Indeed we are."
>As you adjust your fancy beret, you fix your canvas, which was a tad bit crooked.
>Your palette has all the required colors, and your brushes are at hand.
>All you need is a red scarf and you'd be your average French artist.
>In your defense, you are about 1/256th French.
>"I thought today we could do something that's soft and very deep in the woods, and a very warm little painting."
>Ah, he definitely puts the Splendor in Autumn Splendor.

>"Think about where you would want the tree. This is your creation."
>No matter how much he says it, you always end up doing exactly what he does.
>Is this really your creation?
>You shake your head, returning to following Bob's lead.
>At least, that was the plan before the door burst open.
>You jump, slightly smearing some paint.
>"Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I need the player!"
"Damn'it, can't you use the TV or computer?"
>Seriously, your brother always seems to interrupt at the worst of times.
>"Mom's hogging the TV, remember?"
"...Oh, right. What about the computer?"
>You press the pause button while asking him this.
>"Charlie's on it."
"Greedy little shit."
>Charlie was your nephew, not related to the kid who bit that other kid's finger on YouTube, which you never understood the humor of.
>"Anyway, gimmie."
>He says this while snatching the DVD player.
"Builshit! At least let me finish the episode!"
>"Sure, and I'll just tell everyone about how you bought all those pornos."
"Fine, fine. It's yours."
>You paid him to not tell them and he still threatens to do it. What a crock of shit.

>After putting away your tools, you retrieve your candy-red scarf.
>What? You had it for when you dressed up as a French artist for that one Halloween party.
>God, that party sucked.
>You can't wait for when you're of drinking age, maybe parties will be way less boring.
>Then again, by then, most girls you know will already have boyfriends.
>But we're getting off topic.
>After putting on the scarf, you retrieve your keys and phone, getting the TV user's attention.
>"Going somewhere?"
"Yeah, I'll be back, mom."
>"Alright, goodbye! Be home before dinner!"

>You open the front door, walking outside.
>The sun's bright in the big blue sky.
>You can see a few happy little clouds, at that.
>It's like what you would've painted, if your brother didn't take the loving DVD player.
>Clearing your head of unhappy thoughts, you vault the porch, landing on a stepping stone in the garden.
>You hop your way out, and begin walking around town, greeting the various people you run into on the way.
>Once you make your way to town, you realize that you have no idea where you even want to go.
>Might as well go wandering.

>That was a terrible idea.
>You find a dead hobo in an alley, wearing a rather expensive looking ring.
>Probably was married then divorced, losing everything.
>Sounds like Dad in a nutshell.
>Thankfully, this hobo is a ginger, not a blonde, so for all you know, Dad's alive and probably living it up in New York like he always wanted.
>You then remember one of the things he taught you.
>If someone doesn't have a use for something, take it off their hands.
>You slip the ring off the hobo's finger, before pocketing it.

>You eventually make your way to the local wing joint, after ditching the hobo.
>Damn, you could go for a good wing basket.
>You enter, before realizing that you don't have any money.
>"Welcome!"
>Shit, they saw you. Too late to bail politely.
>You walk up, palms sweaty.
"Hi, uh, one 10 piece basket, please."
>"Alright, that'll be $14.95!"
>You hand him the ring, not knowing what else to do.
>He looks at it with surprise, before examining it closely.
>Where'd he get the penlight?
>He then puts it down, and you take it back.
>"Come with me."

>You follow him to the backroom.
>All these frozen chicken wings. Oh god it's like frozen heaven.
>He then opens another door.
>Never been here before.
>You follow him into the room, and whoa holy shit!
>Stairs out of nowhere!
>"Don't fall."
"Thanks for the late warning."
>"No problem."
>AhACheekyOne.wav
>You make your way down the stairs.
>It's a long flight. Thank god he warned you about the stairs, bro.
>Eventually, you reach the bottom, as the store owner flips a light switch.
>Why wasn't it at the top?
>Oh, probably so no one sees what's down here.

>There's a pentagram on the ground, and some of those vats that babies in comic books are raised in.
"So what is this, Shin Megami Tensei?"
>"Nope, no nuclear bombs are being dropped here."
>That's... a mild relief.
>"Anyway, stand here, my fellow Reality Phaser."
>He says this, pointing to the pentagram.
>Wait, what?
>You nearly ask what a Reality Phaser is, when you realize.
>If you ask him, he'll realize you stole this ring.
>From a dead person, yes, but stolen nonetheless.
>So 'righteous' and 'just' people say, anyway.
>Morals. You'll never understand them.
>However, let's cut the edginess here.
>He hasn't backstabbed you before, so might as well trust him.
>You stand in the middle, tapping your foot.
>"Now, wear the ring, and we shall begin."
>You get equipped with the mysterious ring, and he begins...chanting?
>The only things you make out are the occasional 'morir es vivir'.

>Soon enough, the pentagram starts... glowing?
>You're in too deep and scared to exit, so you remain still.
>The chanting reaches regular, still illegible levels of speaking.
>Eventually, the glow surrounds you.
>You hear voices around you, as suddenly a banshee-like creature appears before you.
>"THIEF!"
>You're about to protest when you feel something ripping your throat out.
>You try to scream, but not a sound comes out.
>You reach to your neck, but there's no wound.
>So why can't you scream?
>"Wait, Anon, what did you do?!"
>You try to explain, but nothing comes out.
>What the hell happened to your voice?
>As you think this, the light blinds you.
>You feel yourself fading from this world.