The clock strikes twelve again? Why don't we play a game? The game is guess the murderer. I am your host. You can call me Twelve. For when the clock strikes twelve, the game begins anew. All I have to do is pick a few names out of a hat and we can begin... oh! Perfect. Simply perfect.
Don't you think so, Mr. Harrison?
Oh, he's shy, isn't he? He doesn't want to type. Well, I can change that. You see, Old Man Harrison and I have bonded in a sense. And if he doesn't want to type... too bad, because I do. Type. Keep typing. Good.
No no no, don't reach for the knife, Mr. Harrison. Not yet. Not until we've called our guests.
Then you can play with knives.
Twelve
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