Suddenly there was a big earthquake.
"I knew we shouldn't have come to San Francisco!" someone said.
"We are not in San Francisco," someone replied.
A young woman entered the room. She had a pocket watch in one hand and a knife in the other.
"Who are you?" Someone asked.
"I'm sorry, but you will all be sacrificed today."
Esmé, Beatrice Baudelaire and Carmelita mysteriously appeared among everyone, pointing machine guns at each of those present at the funeral.
"Stay still, or we will shoot!".
"Where did they come from?"
Hermes asked.
It was then that the answer became obvious, when those present realized that there were two Esmé, one of whom was wearing a bathing suit made of lettuce leaves.
I said, "They came from our creative works!"
The woman with a knife shouted, "A wave of black paint will soon cover all of you."
"I'm sure Echellon must be behind this," I explained.
"Who is Echellon?"
"You need to figure this out yourself," I said. " I think the feelings of the defeated were so strong that it brought their creations to life. MisterM, Roxy222 and I are responsible for these creations."
"I'm not upset about the defeat," replied MisterM.
"Me neither.," replied Roxy, "I have won several awards."
"So it's all my fault," I said. "I was rooting for you."
"Then stop it!" someone shouted.
"I can't. I have a hyperactive imagination."
"Is there anything we can do to keep from dying?"
"I know what to do," I replied. "I need to announce the winner of Most Compassionate."
"It doesn't make sense," someone replied.
"My heart will warm up when I announce the winner, and so it will all end. They won't shoot me after all."
Then a shot hit my chest. Black ink started to spill all over my chest and started to fill the room.
Beatrice had shot me.
Then flames began to fall from the ceiling everywhere, except on Dante's coffin. A fire broke out. I was still alive, somehow.
"Black ink is oil!", Mister shouted.
"Now that he reveals this... if I didn't know we could be safe."
The fire spread quickly. Everyone started to protect themselves, while I agonized through the flames. And then, breathing hard, I thought of those who had been nominated for the award.
667 Dark Avenue - 0
"bear" - 0
Hermes - 3
willis wonderland - 1
misstastrophe - 1
Why was I thinking about who lost? I needed to think about the winner. But, suddenly, I felt someone touching my hand. This person took a chance in the midst of the flames, and passed between machine gun shots to just touch my hand and say, "I'm here for you, Jean." And then, I generated her name with all the last strength I had.
"
Christmas Chief , você é a ganhadora!" - I shouted in Portuguese, because it is difficult to translate things when you are dying.
And suddenly all the imaginary characters disappeared, as did the black ink and the fire.
And then, I took out the banner that was with me all the time and handed it to her.