I NEED A NOISE: A NOISE BIBLE

MISC. SCENARIOS

Wait, What's This?

This is a collection of miscellaneous scenarios that weren't added to the main story due to length concerns, I couldn't find a good place to put them, or made some parts of the story too definite. Some scenarios are more "AU" content instead of being a part of my "fanon". While the scenarios do not have a super linear timeline to them, I will be arranging them in "chronological" order. Try not to get too attached to these or else you'll want them to be in the main story haha ;7).

Peddito Finds the "Real Noise"

It is common for the Doise to do nothing of substance to cope with a situation rather than just enduring the gunfire. This has been the case for most of her life, having little anticipation for the misery that unfolds and only really getting paranoid about the quarrels she would find herself in online. However, the blind beast Peddito has torn off a layer of the Doise’s skin that the Doise never knew was there. Sure, the Doise will often shrug it off in front of other people arguing, “eh, I’ll be kicking after a couple days; I’m fine and I can’t actually die. Shit just hurts. I can thug it out,” but she can’t assure herself with that like she used to. Although Peddito doesn’t really attack at specific moments, the Doise is under the impression that Peddito attacks him when he’s at his most vulnerable. The poor guy has wound up in a situation that doesn’t seem to have any real solution… spare for one.

Deducting from the first encounter she had with the horrid harpy and the few moments she’s heard it speak, the Doise concluded that Peddito attacks her because it stoutly believes she’s the Noise. After much time to reflect, doing so under the assistance of some newly acquired loved ones, the Doise eventually admitted that she didn’t deserve this treatment and it would be more “just” if Peddito knew the truth instead of living off the misery of this simple misunderstanding. Perhaps it could simply be resolved by just telling Peddito where the Noise lives.

As established before, this wasn’t an easy thing for the Doise to do since no matter how much he wanted to hate the Noise, it was hard to shake off the delusion that she’s his friend and thus transferring this punishment felt somewhat cruel. Sure, how much would this eternal suffering teach the Noise? Would this keep the Noise powerless forever, stifling the former millionaire from further burdening the world? Wouldn’t this suffering only validate the Noise’s ego, making him disassociate himself from the fact that he should’ve done better? These are all good questions to ask, but one thing should be acknowledged: This punishment was meant for the Noise, and the Doise did nothing comparable to demand this horrible suffering.

It was all so difficult, and at first, the Doise could only tell Peddito that she isn’t the Noise and that she has an idea of where the Noise lives–but she could not make herself speak of the specific where.

“This information is rendered useless if you don’t give me the key to the culprit,” Peddito breathed, his voice sounding like the hollow wind that blows through the dead trees in autumn, as if he was the vacant mistress Mother Nature. “I have been told I am the boomerang named justice, but I am an animal, too; I must feed on something to stay alive.”

This added an additional pressure to an already incredibly stressful part of the Doise’s life. The choice that he had yet to make was incredibly draining, but the attempts done by the Noise to make him “forgive” her would lead to the trigger finally being pulled. The Doise pulled that trigger, fearing what place the Noise could drag her to next if she didn't do anything to prevent him from re-entering her life. The remorse she held for the Noise was harming her, and she had to do something about it. Therefore, the Doise finally made the decision to tell Peddito the whereabouts of the Noise.

Since this was after the Noise and Noisette broke up, the Doise’s directions only helped so much because the Noise was in a different apartment building at this point. Although the Noise and Doise had similar scents to the creature, it was a decent tool throughout this pursuit. Peddito was able to track the Noise’s original apartment, but alas, only Noisette lived there and hesitantly told him that the Noise was somewhere else. After an hour or two of using its scent to track down the culprit, it was able to catch the Noise on his way to his apartment building.

The Noise only really remembered the existence of Peddito whenever she wondered about the state of the Doise. Sometimes he, like many people, saw the harpy perched as if it was any other bird, brooding and staring intently into nothingness. Like everyone else who witnessed, the Noise was creeped out by this sight and slowly shuffled back into their mundane day. However, this would be the day where he wouldn’t be like anyone else and would finally be confronted by the creature.

Peddito landed behind the Noise in the parking lot of his apartment building. The thud that came from the action prompted the Noise to turn around and get startled, then slowly back away from the beast. Once the Noise noticed that every step he took only made Peddito take a step forward, he froze in fear. It isn’t supposed to eat me right? Only wants that… troubled guy, right? The creature that towered over her began sniffing her to check if it was the right guy. It persisted with this for an unusually long time, hollowly whiffing random areas of the Noise’s upper body. It was an animal, but it had the authority of man. At some points, Peddito got in such close contact with the Noise that she could feel the coarseness of the being’s neck, as if she was somehow lower than every fat, sweaty, tired guy that rode the congested subway with her. As if the comfortless anticipation could go on any longer… it finally stopped. He rose up and huffed heavily before transitioning into speech.

“I wouldn’t have hoved so much over you if you weren’t the Noise. I have never smelt something so delectable before… who knows what you’ll make me do…” And then the creature would leap back into the sky, progressively getting obscured by the deep night.

And thus the Noise is now tormented by Peddito as well, being stalked by him and constantly reminded of her delectability. Everyday she anticipates the moment where the beast finally enacts its divine punishment and feasts upon her disgusting husk. Maybe one day the horrid harpy will eat her, but it seems like he loves the smell of her fear more than the taste of justice. The smell is powerful enough to fuel him somewhat, but alas, he cannot survive off of it. Because of this, Peddito still feeds on the Doise, albeit at a more uncommon rate.

It’s better than it was before but… that thing’s gonna kill me again, even if it’s at a rarer rate. I’m never safe, never getting out of this. After all that courage, all that strength I had to muster up, all that bullshit I had to put up with, what did that really do? Do I need to fight anymore? Should I even put up with that shit? Whatever. A nuke could go off and you’d still be awake tomorrow. I’m immortal and even if that thing tears me to fucking pieces, I’ll be up tomorrow. It won’t matter. I’m always given tomorrow. I guess.

The Noise Attempts Suicide

As previously touched on before, the Noise contemplated suicide when he was seeking “punishment” for his sins. The idea was deeply horrifying at first, for never in her life did she genuinely contemplate suicide, but the more she wallowed in its horror, she found herself wanting it more and more. Typically, one would prefer to go out in a painless way, but the Noise was seeking punishment… and thus he wanted to go out in the most painful matter possible. She didn’t think much of the aftermath–spare what that would mean to Noisette. She would certainly be heartbroken by the act, but a part of the Noise couldn’t help but think that she would cease alongside him, like a forgotten memory. I suppose it would be a shame to longer speak to Peppino. It’s hard to think of anyone else; a lot of people hate me now. The Noise’s reflections would be interrupted by the Bo Noise’s presence.

“Wait! The cartoon loops its cycles to save time and money. If you’re watchful, who knows how many cycles you’ll find. Perhaps it all loops, but a hearty toon shifts with different loops. Who do you think will be seeing peace sooner: the cartoon who loops in blackness or the cartoon that knows both the metamorphosis of the butterfly and Mr. Kafka?”

Certainly the one who darts into blackness will know peace sooner–that was the first conclusion that entered the Noise's mind. The Bo Noise’s answers don’t come as easily as that, but the Noise found no use in digging further for an answer when he already has one in mind. However, she did ponder for a moment if staying alive just for the Bo Noise to torture her would be a good solution. No, no. The Bo Noise is far too clever and would quickly sniff out her intentions. Furthermore, the Bo Noise inflicts her with a torment that not even she could stand in this period. Unlike all of his other outlets for suffering, the Bo Noise will always give forgiveness; they have no interest in pure, spiteful punishment and would rather do something more productive. Also, if the Noise could speak frankly, the fact that the Bo Noise was so much more “pure” than the Noise just made her want to kill herself even more.

The Noise squirmed in his quicksand, and he eventually decided to cease his existence on the same day he conceived the idea. The Bo Noise couldn’t help but constantly appear.

“No no! Certainly there’s a train to catch, a conversation to be had, a staircase that kisses the heavens and connects you to the local people, a cup of pretzel bites from the Auntie Anne’s at our local shopping mall!”

I think we got some bleach or drain cleaner in our apartment. Drinking bleach sounds pretty painful, yeah. I’ll go with that.

I gotta do this shit soon and before Noisette comes home. I’m already in hell if I have this glowing piece of shit reminding me of how awful I am. Just stab me; can’t you see I’m in a hole so deep that I might as well be in pure darkness?

“A fragment of the sky remains in sight. You’re… you’re still in touch with life. Uhm… you can climb out of it; you can try. If you… if you can’t… can’t do it, then you can still live.” But I can’t live with you any longer.

The Noise, with a jug of bleach in hand, unscrewed the cap of what will make him meet his maker. It’s okay; it’s just a surgery where the anesthesia doesn’t kick in until they’re halfway in operating on you. The odd scent of the bleach was always fascinating to him, making the jug’s slow trip towards his lips rather peaceful. Suddenly, two hands clung onto his arm for dear life, placing a dull pain onto his nerves.

No no no no, no no… no don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it…” The Bo Noise rambled on with a clear goal but lacking a plan. The babbling was incessant as his form shifted into a more human-like height and his voice crescendoed.

“Fuck, get off! Get off of me you piece of shit! Let me do this!” The Noise rambled in return, also incessant and crescendoing, though it was clear the Bo Noise’s pleas were overpowering hers.

The progression of volume would be cranked up by the sudden and horrifically visceral yell let out by the Bo Noise, a yell that crackled their voice in a manner that broke the filter that always masked their voice in a crusty film. It was deeply unnatural–yet it was somehow the most sincere thing the Bo Noise ever said.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!!”

As they shrieked these words, the Bo Noise’s grasp had sunk all the way into the Noise’s muscles, commanding her nerves to relax the muscles in her hand and drop the bottle. It took a moment to recover from the shock. How deep the fear was in the Bo Noise’s eyes. Tears slid from the apparition’s face as they choked, quivered, and wheezed on every heavy breath. This was the closest the Bo Noise ever got at to looking like the Noise; he was a mirror trying his best.

The Noise fell to his knees as vulnerable tears leaked from his face. Not a sound came from him–only the unraveling feeling of sudden compassion came out. God… why do you always worm your way into my heart and mind? And why do you care? I know it’s your duty… but you care about me. The only thing I can do in return is listen to you, at the very least.

I’ll try. I don’t know what I’ll exactly try… but I will try. I will try to do my best tomorrow.

The Noise's Funeral

Depending at what point in her life you tell this to, the Noise would have a variety of reactions at dying age fifty eight from lung cancer. “Thank god,” some points remark, “fuck, I really go out that soon?” others quiver. Regardless, in a Noise fashion, it’s unlikely any of these points of time would do much to actually confront the situation, and thus it presents in a fashion that seems inevitable. The Noise had a pretty bad smoking addiction ever since he was 20, and though it tended to be casual, it would spike horribly during anxious periods.

Even though it was detected somewhat late in its development, it was certainly treatable. Alas, it’s been a long time since she’s had that philanthropy money, so she couldn’t get much of this treatment. Subjected to a miserable death by the system she once formerly enabled, the Noise only sped up its violence through clinging to the unhealthy comfort she had: smoking. Sometimes she did it out of a need to relieve a deep primal fear. Other times she did it to make herself die faster, for the misery to be done with more quickly. As a result, the Noise died only three months after her diagnosis, alone in her apartment.

Peppino and the Doise managed to hear the word about the Noise’s passing and responded with cocky joy. Feels good to outlive that bastard. Suddenly, the joy faded into empty expressions. They hadn’t thought of the guy in a while. Been decades since I last saw her. If they hadn’t triumphed over their complicated feelings over the Noise, the two would’ve melted into a panic and been swayed by the sadness of her passing. For the Doise personally, it left her fearful of the future. That thing’s probably gonna attack me even more and I’ll be back to where I was before.

But there were people that loved and cared for the Doise now. Although her citizenship situation was an absolute nightmare, making it nearly impossible to gain necessities like medication, there were people who were keen that she wouldn’t suffer alone for however long she may live. There were people who cared about Peppino, too. He’s been married to Gustavo for almost twenty years now, and his life is much more peaceful now. Yes, reflecting on the Noise opened up some complicated feelings, but there’s one thing certainly true for the both of them: They are not dying alone. Even if Gustavo dies before Peppino, he will not die alone. Even if the Doise, one day, never comes back to life from a vicious attack from Peddito, people cared about her and she won’t die alone because of it.

Nobody important to note attended the funeral–spare Noisette. She had witnessed an ambiguous amount of the Noise’s path to his demise, and due to wanting to further herself from his life, didn’t give much comfort or advice in this period. Perhaps she was simply no longer in his life, or maybe she was there, but partially refused to help out of anger or fear. Either way, it had left Noisette feeling incredibly guilty about her lack of action, and she attended the funeral out of hope that it would relieve her of all the stress and trauma that she obtained from this “former job”. Demons and angels often spoke of the satisfaction or emptiness they felt when their occupation had suddenly “finished” for one reason or another. Well we can’t know for sure, but let’s just get this over with and reflect afterwards.

Well, the funeral finished and Noisette was just left with pretty much the same feelings from before, though the dreadful distress and the contrasting sympathy mellowed out a little. Oh how deathly she wanted to stay by his grave for the rest of her immortal life. Though it took some willpower, she resisted this urge, but was given a horrible depressive period in return.

This period consisted of many weeping spells behind an unconvincing mask of her typical self. Often she was haunted by that desire to visit his grave. For a while, she was quite keen on telling nobody (spare one person she regularly visited), but eventually unraveled her anguish in front of Pepperman and the Vigilante, two people she had grown quite close to and shared romantic tension with the both of them. After a difficult confession and some thoughtful silence, one of them gave a response.

“Now, I’m no professional,” Pepperman began, “but due to my personal reflections on chaotic contradictions, I feel like you should perhaps give yourself one visit to his grave. But don’t give her your time, for her ears are now rotting and she will never do any good with those words now. Let something go instead. If you hold a soliloquy, sing it to the wind and not to him. Let whatever you place also rest in a grave just like his body.”

After some reflection, Noisette would confront the Noise’s grave one more time. Due to it being a rather gray, windy, and cloudy day, her vibrant, undying pinks popped out from the scene, indicating her lack of belonging there. She took a long look at the grave, with her softened eyes and tensed brow wrestling with one another. She was tempted to think of many obsessive words that she had thought of before, but her mind was left speechless by the urge to let go of an item.

After a heavy sigh, she began to untie the ribbons that fastened her mask in place. For the first time in her life, her heart shaped horns felt the chilled air of the outside world. Noisette considered simply dropping the mask onto the Noise’s grave, but decided to delicately place it on it instead. She blankly stood up, slowly turned around, and walked away. She did not witness the mask’s almost immediate fate of being snagged onto the wind and carried somewhere else.

Noisette was tinted with slight unrest as she headed back home, but the wind, although somewhat uncomfortable, was calming to her. She stroked the curvature of one of her horns and let out a short hum. She suspected this peace to be temporary, as there was more unpacking to do and coping mechanisms to learn, but she was able to take in the moment.

May tomorrow be kind to me as I transition from this nightmare, and may tomorrow complement the color of my horns.

The Noise in Hell

After a miserable night of wheezing, chest pain, and other such miseries, he woke up to absolute, unapologetic darkness. It disorientated her deeply, confused on whether or not she had actually opened her eyes up or not. The Noise rustled around, expecting to hear the shifting of blankets, fabric, something, or anything–but he heard nothing. It felt like something was being pushed around by her movements, having a weirdly sluggish feel to it. Another peculiar detail was that the Noise couldn’t feel or move his legs, though the previous factors distracted him more.

She began to panic after some struggling, but it was almost like part of her mind was asleep; she couldn’t respond to the situation properly. A thought sure did race, yet the mind fell into its own stasis. He would wrestle with himself for a while until a spotlight suddenly appeared over him. No. I don’t know where I am now. The exposure to light unleashed the sympathetic response in her body and she began to tremble. The spotlight didn’t do much to reveal what potentially laid in this deep darkness, however, it still prompted the Noise to trace out many faint observing eyes in the area. He could only fidget so much, and that fidgeting only relieved so little. Eyes darting, head snapping around like a bird trying to look at glass, it took him an unusual amount of time to realize why he couldn’t move his legs.

The Bo Noise’s top half replaced the Noise’s legs, and they were watchfully glaring at him, unblinking. This deep fixation appeared to be painful for them, as opaque tears ran down their otherwise inhuman and unreadable face. Who knows, even in this moment, if the Bo Noise could ever hold unfiltered rage towards someone so frustrating, difficult, and complicated as the Noise? Regardless of what’s going through the figment’s mind, the Noise already came up with a conclusion for an enigma that would never be answered: They hate me.

“L-look man, I know I wasn’t the best, but… give me some advice. What are you feeling?! Please, just anything, anything at all!” The Noise begged.

Not a word left the Bo Noise.

The Noise’s quivering breaths populated a world that only held pure silence. After some time, the Bo Noise tediously unfurled their arm towards her. The purpose of this gesture could not be read, but the Noise hoped that perhaps the being would caress her cheek, reach out their hand, or hell, even slap her–but the Bo Noise gave up the action halfway through, relaxing the muscle and letting the limb swing on its own. Their gaze was suddenly broken. The Bo Noise closed his eyes and slowly lifted his head up closer to the light. From this point on, they never looked at the Noise ever again.

Searched as she did, the Noise could not find the proper words to describe this place and situation, despite constantly throwing conclusions at the wall to see what stuck. Nothing quelled the stinging of the unbearable rash. No amount of movement would release her panic, and she was given no answer–not even a cue for how much time has actually passed.

She prayed. She prayed for tomorrow. Or was this tomorrow? But I don’t want this tomorrow; I want, god, y’know a real one! It could be the shittiest tomorrow you give me, or the best, or fuck, an absolutely useless one! Please, just give me anything! Just give tomorrow! Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow! Tomorrow… I need it now more than ever…

But nothing else was given to him.

No escapism.

No forgiveness.

No punishment.

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