Morning Grace

All that’s left is blood on the floor. The metal plate closes as quickly as it had opened, and Kazuya is leaning weakly against one of the podiums, wide-eyed and trembling. It doesn’t seem like they’re capable of saying anything at the moment.

Instead, after a few minutes, the same plate on the wall that you all entered through slides open again. There’s nowhere to go but through, unless you want to risk being stuck in this room, with the Wheel, and the blood… 

The path through the wall is short and leads back to the hall in Ring 2, closing again only once everyone has left. 

And that’s it. No one Passed this time. No extra spins were needed. No one died.

It takes several minutes before Kazuya seems able to collect themself again. Throughout the entire process of Moko’s punishment they pressed their hands to their face, shaking badly, and it’s not hard to see that they’ve been crying when they finally lower them again. Even then there’s a rough repetition of, I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry that goes on for a while before they can wipe their tears and catch their breath.

This isn’t fair, they weren’t even the one hurt, but here they are falling apart. At least it allows some room for everyone else to have a bit of a breather, and for Moko to have a chance to recover somewhat as well.

But it doesn’t last.

“Th-the next person…” Kazuya manages, still having to take some deep, careful breaths to get the words out, “The next… is Yuri Kamisumi.”

Damn. She knew her run of relatively good luck had to end eventually, but it would be fair to say she didn’t expect it to happen quite so soon. Still, she doesn’t protest. It was going to happen one way or another, and the sooner the better.

“I suppose this was inevitable.”

She steps forward to spin, not with some newly invigorated fire in her soul but the same, steady stream of determination as always. The white squares presented a mild concern, but Hidehisa’s execution was not so readily forgotten. Once more: what were the odds that both residents of one room would meet such similar fates? Low enough. She’d be fine. Whatever they could throw at her, she’d be fine. She breathes in, gives the wheel a firm spin, and folds her hands in front of her as she watches it fly.

There it goes again, the colors whirling around, the pegs clicking against the stopper, a quick rhythm that slows and slows. Yellow, White, Cyan, Magenta… the more the speed of the wheel drops the more heart rates around the room rise. Every time a White wedge moves towards the top the tension in the room skyrockets. White, Cyan… 

Magenta. With a final soft tap the Wheel comes to a halt. The wedge lights up, a stylised symbol of a leg outlined in the harsh glow. Does this mean there will be another Pass…?

Losing a leg was not something to be considered lightly. They surely expected her to Pass - hell, they probably even wanted her to. Anyone who would go to all the trouble of setting it up in such a way clearly had a vested interest in watching as many people as possible suffer. None of her peers would fault her if she Passed, save perhaps whoever would have been called up to spin next.

Yuri Kamisumi, however, was not in the business of bowing to the will of a tyrannical game. She was far from her breaking point, and while this would be a hefty shove it would not push her over the edge. Passing could potentially minimize the harm to herself in the short term - Moko had been relatively lucky, only losing a tooth. Perhaps if she went again, she would be able to get away with something like that as well. There was no guarantee, though, that the next spin would not demand she give up a finger, a hand, an arm. That would be another pass, effectively doubling the number of people who would have to spin.

And then, who could say whether or not the next people called up would pass? There was a lot of potential for the damage to spiral upwards exponentially, and that simply would not do. Yuri had decided that she would not play their game the way they wanted her to. It was going to be distinctly unpleasant, but if anyone here was capable of handling such a thing, it was her. After those few agonizing seconds of silence that followed the results of any spin, her firm resolve only hardens and she speaks with no hesitation.

“Very well. I accept.”

There it is, then. Scarcely have you all had a chance to register this outcome before the androids are moving again, this time surrounding Yuri. Two of them grab her by the shoulders, a third clamps something around her right leg at the knee: a tourniquet. No need to wonder what that’s for. 

[CW: Leg Trauma, Written Gore, Amputation]

Everything takes on a horrific surrealism as a whirling blade extends from an android’s arm. Yuri is being supported as much as restrained by the androids around her while the humming blade slices in, spraying a fine mist of blood. 

There was no struggle as she watched the blade draw closer. She had chosen this, and had braced herself for it as much as she reasonably could have. And then the blade connects, and it’s a good thing the androids are supporting her because her own leg certainly isn’t anymore. 

Perhaps it’s to be expected during something like this, but hearing Yuri scream like that was still jarring. It was a far cry from the usual poise and composure she presented herself with, to say the very least. The white-hot pain was unlike anything she could have ever imagined. Yuri was doing her best not to cry, but there wasn’t anything she could do to stop the pain response from forming tears for her. Try as she might to regulate her breathing, there was nothing to do but gasp for breath amidst her attempts to just. Not. Scream.

Her efforts were met with minimal success.

Throughout the entire ordeal, she remained miserably, agonizingly conscious. At some point, the whirring of the blade stopped, maybe. Were it not for the excruciating pain, or the sounds still reverberating in her ears, she might have actually noticed.

It’s not as quick as Mariko or Fran’s loss had been, but it doesn’t take nearly as long as might be expected either. Again the noises seem to be the worst part - Yuri’s screaming, obviously, and the dull scrape as the blade meets bone and cuts clean through it. Perhaps it’s a small mercy that it seems so efficient at its job, not slowing in the slightest but pushing through and then…

[CW: Needle, Syringe]

“…What?”

What do you mean, what? How is this unexpected? If anything, this is later than she would have guessed based on her interactions and responses and her previous tears and the fact that she still doesn’t know how to talk to people and— She isn’t going to die, right? Her eyes briefly flick to Kazuya, though obscured by two layers of glass. Right?

After a noticeable pause with her simply standing in the middle of the room, she nervously hobbles up to the wheel. Color is already drained from her face. All outcomes are bad outcomes, but which is the worst?

“I don’t want to do this.”

She squeaks in a shakey, uncertain voice, her hands frozen as they touch the outer edge of the wheel. She doesn’t want to. The tips of her fingers are so numb that she doesn’t even feel it when they pull away from the spin.

Click click click, the increasingly familiar sound never fails to be unsettling. Nor does the minute or so that it takes for the wheel to slow and stop lack for stress. What will it be this time? Surely not another death…? 

No. Not this time, at least. The wheel eases to a stop, catching at last on a Cyan wedge, which lights up around the darkened symbol of… a tooth.

A tooth. Instinctively, the same frozen fingers brush against her lips, spreading the chill to her cheeks to her nose to her jaw and neck. A tooth can be replaced, right? There’s plenty of readily available tools and materials in the outer world that can solve the problem. If she ever gets back to see it again.

With a shudder, she lowers her hands to her side.

“… Ok, fine. F-Fine. J-just. Fine.”

While it may be something of a relief that she didn’t Pass, there’s still not much time to prepare for what happens next.

[CW: Tooth Trauma, Mouth Trauma, Blood]

Three of the androids at the back of the room roll forward quickly to surround Moko, two of them subduing her efficiently enough by taking hold of her head on either side. It’s unpleasant enough seeing the way metal fingers curl into her mouth, holding it open, but it’s even worse when the third android reaches inside, the tip of a finger splitting into a serviceable set of pliers. The gross wet sound of the tooth being wrenched out is… horrifying is the only word for it. 

And immediately, she’s choking. The chill turns into a flame that melts the iron that pours from her mouth and into the back of her throat. She sputters and coughs. Moko’s screams bounce off of the metal tools and fingers shoved in her mouth, diffusing in odd angles and directions. All at once, every nerve in her system burns with a fire centered towards a single point. The scream simmers down into more of a whimper as the process concludes.

And just like that she’s released, the androids move back again, blood spills over her chin and Sorrel moves forward to catch her gently by the shoulders. 

“I have… something for the pain… if you want it.” He murmurs as he steers her towards one of the podiums to lean on.

“… Nngh–”

Ow. Ow owowow, attempting to move her jaw stings, so the minute she attempts to respond, all she wants to do is stop. She leans up against the podium, and sputters, spitting blood onto the floor. After an additional beat, she nods. Yes. Get rid of the damn pain, please. For the love of all that is holy.

The fifth day rolls around at last, and right on schedule later in the afternoon your ElectroIDs buzz and beep to give you the announcement: A message instructing you to meet in the short hallway between Rooms F and G in the Second Ring. 

Despite the new location, once you’ve all gathered the series of events remains much the same. A metal plate in one of the walls slides open, and Kazuya steps out, looking as apprehensive and harrowed as they have for nearly two weeks now. 

“I guess… you all know what the drill is by now… um, this way.” They turn and lead the way down a short narrow hall within the wall. There’s no direction open but the one they’re leading you down, and at the end of a short walk another plate slides open to admit entrance to the Wheel Room - or one that looks exactly like it. The same podiums positioned around the room, the same large, flashing, multi-colored wheel sitting ominously in the center. Dr. Weissen, as many of you have learned he’s called, stands at the back of the room, with a small group of androids around him, but he says nothing.

The morning after the Suffering Game you all wake feeling better - physically, at least. It’s as if a haze has lifted. Your vision is clear, there are no sudden unpleasant smells calling up horrible memories, no voices or screams in your ears, no movements in your peripheral vision or sudden pains without cause. The last of the hallucinogen has left your system, just as promised, and all you need to contend with now is reality. Which is bad enough.

Those of you not woken by the early morning buzz of your ElectroIDs will find the alert on it later, an update to the Maps app. It would appear that the doors between Rooms E and F have opened, and the second ring of the WonderDome has been made available to you at last.

It looks huge, and there - on the map you see Room 2H marked clearly as an Infirmary. That must be where Romeo was taken!

While the lack of any kind of announcement or ceremony makes the whole thing feel less exciting, perhaps you can take heart from the thought that you’re one step closer to the outside… though that might be more comforting if you knew how many steps were left to go.

–

“Y-you can. Can go. Now.” Kazuya is obviously struggling to get the words out, still shaking badly enough that they’ve retreated back to lean against a wall to steady themself. The wall you’d all entered through opens up again to admit you. 

Just as before there are no turns to be seen, it’s just a short, straight passage back into the areas you’ve all become familiar with over the past ten days. Is that really all it’s been? Somehow it feels longer. Somehow it feels like that alone, that mere hour or so in the Wheel Room, was a lifetime.

For Hidehisa, it was. 

But what else is there to do? Nothing. Nothing to do and nowhere else to go but back into your comfortably furnished prison. The transmitters in your ears are silent, but for many of you it will be some time before the recent new screams stop ringing in your ears. 

As you all eventually file out, Kazuya slides down the wall to sit on the floor, pulling their knees to their chest and burying their face in them. It will be some time before they move again, long after the last of the other ‘subjects’ has left the room and the metal plate has slid back into place. 

Once again it’s over… but not really. The motive is done, but the game will happen again. A reprieve has been bought at the price of Romeo and Fran’s suffering, and Hidehisa’s life. Costly indeed, for a mere five days. 

The rest of the evening is yours. 

–

The screen switches off unceremoniously, and rises back into the ceiling. Kazuya has their hands pressed over their face, shaking like a leaf in a stiff breeze, barely clinging to an otherwise barren branch. For a second as they try to raise their head it looks like they might just collapse. 

“That. Th-that.” The words just won’t come. But they don’t need to. The blonde stranger stands up, straightening from where he was kneeling beside Fran, and turns to walk towards the back wall.

“No one else… will have to spin, this time. The… last punishment… will happen now.” He speaks softly even as he’s moving, and the wall slides open again to admit him - he disappears into it, and it shuts. But while that was happening yet another thing was as well - so much so fast, so much at once.

The androids have surrounded Romeo.

[CW: Eye Trauma, Blood]

This time there are three androids holding him - one on either side to manage his arms, one behind him to hold his head in place. It hardly seems necessary, given how thin he is. It’s hard to imagine the elegant young heir, a modern day aristocrat, putting up any kind of fight, especially against such implacable foes. But perhaps there’s actually a kindness in it - this way he can’t inadvertently make the whole thing worse by jerking his head at the wrong moment or instinctively throwing up a hand to block any blades.

After what you’d just seen happen to Hidehisa, something about this might seem like it should be anticlimactic. And yet…

A fourth android takes its place in front of Romeo, raising a hand with a single blade extending from its finger. The blade curves slightly, almost scoop-like, an association unpleasant enough to churn even the strongest stomach as it’s put to use. 

The act itself takes only a moment, quick and brutal yet precise and efficient. Nothing splats to the floor this time - the eye is caught mid-fall, an android swinging its arm with an open compartment to catch it. 

The screaming lasts much longer.

Their job complete, the androids release Romeo and move away again, back over to the wall, which opens to admit them. Only then does the blonde stranger reappear, movements a bit more stiff than before, his prosthetic tapping against the floor as he moves to Romeo’s side.

“I should… take him… to the Infirmary.” He says as he tilts Romeo’s head back with a hand in his hair, and then leans down to murmur something to him.

Romeo had dug his heels into the ground from the moment he saw the blade, had tried to escape, but his struggle had been as useless as can be, the small “No, wait” and the nervous laughter ignored- it wouldn’t last long. It would soon be replaced by screams.

Romeo doesn’t ever lose his countenance. Not over death games or secrets. But as the robots let go of him, he sinks to the floor, hands in front of his face and yet not touching. Screaming, the kind of screams that can only be brought out by a pain deep enough to connect to something much more animalistic and primal in every person. Those of you who have the right angle might see the tears on his face, much less noticeable of course than the blood, his beautiful face a grimace of pain.

Maybe he deserves this, for taking things so lightly earlier. Maybe it’s cathartic for you to see him like this.

It’s hard to say if he thinks like that, or thinks anything at all.

When he is approached, though, moved, his screams lessen, and his sobs grow more noticeable. He’s grinding his teeth. Trying to keep his mouth shut. His fingers digging immediately into the stranger’s coat, holding on close. A deeper sob masks whatever it might have been he has been told, but he increases his grip, and nods, shaking and weak. His lips barely move. If he replies at all, it’s hard to say.

The stranger is clearly tense, freezing for a moment as Romeo latches onto him. And then he reaches into one of the pockets on his coat again, the movements nearly automatic. Whatever he does next is quick, involves rolling up one of Romeo’s sleeves, but with the way they’re positioned by each other it’s hard to see even if you wanted to. 

There’s hardly any time to react to the stunning development before another of the metal plates on the walls slides open and something comes shooting out, almost too fast to see before one end of it has closed around Hidehisa’s neck. A metal clamp, not quite a collar but securely grabbing them nevertheless and then - just like that, they’re gone. Yanked backwards into the darkness of the wall, which scrapes shut again promptly behind them, barring any attempts to follow or mount a rescue.

Within minutes there’s the sound of more movement - this time from above, as a massive screen descends from the ceiling and lights up. Images flicker onto it, settling into high definition.

NO ENCORES

[CW: Falling, Head Trauma, Serious Injuries, Written Gore]

The background scenery deconstructed then transformed into something else entirely, laying flat and then springing forward as a new location like a children’s pop-up book, cardboard caricature.  A pair of glimmering fabrics, one black, one white, descended from the ceiling.The gentle rippling of the cloth soothed his ears followed by the hum of an excited crowd. He faced the new set, a circus just like home. What better way to mock him with a final performance. The disheveled, weepy Hidehisa couldn’t refuse despite the circumstances. A gig was a gig after all. It called to him. He forced the biggest smile he could ever muster and secured himself in the aerial silks. 

The audience, composed of faceless androids, roared as he took off. It was a basic routine, nothing too spectacular- they didn’t pay. They didn’t deserve his best. He twisted and twirled, impressing no one. Slowly, his routine lost vigor, and soon, Hidehisa hung there, taking his final moments of suspension before ascension.The faux crowd soured in an instant, fizzing recorded playback booing his idleness. He did his all to ignore them, until yet another android wobbled up to him in stilts, carting a cartoonishly large pair of scissors. Hidehisa’s watery eyes widened, then closed shut. Surely he’d perish falling to the floor from this height, his greatest fear, the most despairing of executions. Without further warning, the scissors clip shut over the silks.

The trapeze artist plummeted to the floor with a sickening crack. He couldn’t move. His ribs pierced his lungs. His skull had split in two. And yet, he was still alive. A broken sob creaked from his fragmented body. Why was he still alive!? Through the wooziness of his fading consciousness, he heard… an ambulance? Though the pain of a thousand hells, he managed to lift his head. He was saved. 

Or not. He wasn’t. 

Riding in on a toy car was another android, with a smile painted on its blank face and a red clown nose glued in place. It honked and spun donuts around Hidehisa for the audience’s malicious recorded mirth. It even ran over his near- corpse a few times. But wait! Can’t forget the showstopper! A single robotic hand lifted and smashed down on a dangerous red button. Something clicked from above and the clown car skedaddled. What could be worse than this? 

An anvil, that’s what.

Right out of a cartoon and onto the stage, Hidehisa was put out of his misery with a horrendous ten thousand tons, staining the front row in his entrails and fluids. Should’ve brought a raincoat.

HIDEHISA MURAHASHI, ULTIMATE TRAPEZE ARTIST, HAS BEEN EXECUTED.

-

One way or another, quick or reluctant, the elusive Hidehisa Murahashi steps forward. Kazuya dabs at their cheeks off to the side, trying to calm themself and stop the tears. Meanwhile Hidehisa spins the wheel with verve and aplomb, showmanship or confidence, who can say? That make-up of his, applied every day without fail despite having no acts to put on or public appearances to make, serves him well now. Is that a real smile on his face, or a painted one?

Click click click goes the wheel, and is someone humming or is that another hallucination? The twirling, alternating lights are an entrancing multi-colored blur, impossible to look away from. Perhaps even Fran, in the midst of stoically enduring his pain, finds himself looking up as it spins and clicks and clicks and spins. Slower now, slower, drawing to a stop, sliding to a close and what will it be? Another pass? Another secret? Another violent loss? Click… click… What will it be? Cyan? Magenta? Yellow…?

“Oh… oh no… no no no…”

White. The stopper catches on its final peg and rocks gently as it settles into place and the wedge lights up, white as snow, with a skull and crossbones outlined in the center.

François flinches, looking almost confused for a moment. He had been staring at the new person in the room with a glazed look in his eyes, but was now clearly startled. “Two more…” There is a heavy weight in his chest and he hesitates for a moment. He could just… His eyes flit from person to person in the room before landing back on Kazuya. “Yes… Of course.” He nods, clutching his rings with one hand as he walks over to the wheel.

He pauses hand hovering in front of his chest. “It is… It is alright, Kazuya. It…. It’s okay.” Yes, this, this was for the better. He could handle this, whatever it was. He could handle it.

The wheel spins again when Fran gets it going, just like before. No matter how many times you see the lights flash and hear the pegs click click click, there’s still an ominous feeling to it. Maybe that will eventually fade, but… that would mean a lot more of these games. 

Clickclickclick click click… click… click… …

It slows. It stops.

Cyan. The one that lights up with the image of an Ear again.

He blinks for a moment, delicately placing a hand to one ear before dropping it. This was… acceptable. This was an acceptable loss. He could still do ballet with this, it wouldn’t hinder him. It’s rather lucky really, that this is the outcome. He lets out a long breath, glancing only for a moment back towards the class. More than acceptable, easy, he could handle this easy. It was the insides of the ear that were important, and they would be safe and fine. This was truly the best outcome he could have gotten.

“It’s okay. That’s alright.” The words are quiet, but they’re only meant for Kazuya anyway. His next words are mumbled far too softly to be audible, but whatever it is probably doesn’t matter. His hands shake, but he just nods well he slots them together, far too busy preparing himself to pay much attention to them. “It’s okay.” He could handle it, and he’d show them he could.

This time when the acceptance is given, there’s no voice stopping the androids that roll forward.

[CW: Blood, Ear Trauma]

Just as with Mariko, two flank Fran to hold him in the event he decides to struggle. Two more stand between him and the rest of the students, forming a small but effective barrier - it’s unlikely any attempts to intervene will be successful, and who knows what the price would be for anyone who tried? 

Another Android comes to a stop in front of Fran, blades sliding out of its fingers. One of the androids holding him tilts his head, and the one with the blades almost gently brushes his hair away from his ear and then grabs the outer shell of it.

There’s a quick movement, and then - blood, it spurts for a moment, possibly surprising, splattering the android on that side. And then the androids are retreating and the blonde stranger with the eyepatch and prosthetic leg is moving forward, pulling things out of the pockets of his doctor’s coat.

“Try to… hold still… this will lessen the pain…” He says as he kneels by Fran, peeling open some kind of plastic-wrapped square and pressing it with surprising tenderness to the bloody hole where his ear was. It’s cool and slightly damp, like a cold compress mixed with an antiseptic wipe.

The affair was oddly silent, no screaming, in fact even before being told to do so Fran had kept to being still, besides the tremble of his body at least. Slumped on the ground, blanched and sweaty, a strained look on his face. He couldn’t have been loud, just made things worse always did, he bit his tongue and dealt with it. It was nothing, this was nothing, it’s nothing. There is a noticeable tenseness he gains when the blonde touches him, an increase in the speed of his breath, but strangely he trembles less. 

It was fine. He was fine, he was handling it. He can only imagine what mémé would say seeing him now. He swallows down the want to whine or wince. He was supposed to be proud, he did the right thing. He was a dancer, this was nothing, he could endure much more than this. It was a good thing, because it meant it wasn’t someone else. That was good. Be proud. He needed to be proud. He would be.

It will probably take a few minutes for the blonde to finish and Fran to move, but he glances up towards Kazuya and nods briskly, expression unreadable, and Kazuya - tearing up and trying to avoid looking at Fran - reluctantly nods and clears their throat.

Once Romeo has announced his acceptance of the third result, the androids roll forward towards him. But then - 

“Wait.” The voice is soft, but manages to carry, and the androids pause. Kazuya looks back towards the stranger at the other end of the room.

“Have… the others… do their spins first. Make… his punishment last.” He speaks slowly, quietly, it’s a little difficult to hear him, but Kazuya seems to understand and nods. 

Once Kazuya has called Romeo’s name, they take a short step away from the Wheel, giving him plenty of room to approach and take up a position on one side or the other. It would be easy enough to spin either way. The lights continue to blink ominously, the occasional symbol or image displayed on the lit up wedges that much more unsettling the second time you’re seeing it. Which will it be…? What’s going to happen…?

Romeo does not seem to feel whatever anticipation you may. He’d approached slowly not out of carefulness or nerves, but simply because he downright strolled over to the wheel, hands on his back, strides long but slow, as though he was just taking a nice little walk. That his eyes were, the entire time, clearly fixated on that instrument of pain and doom, and very much glinting in awareness and curiosity did nothing to undermine this, and even now that his hand is on the wheel he eyes it in what could best be described as interest, perhaps intrigue, but in no way fear. Had he not seen what would happen? Oh, he had. And sure enough, the wheel shows the possibility of maiming, even death. But if it affects him at all, he doesn’t show it. He just gives it a leisurely spin, then folds his hands behind his back again and stands beside the wheel to give everyone a good view.

When Romeo actually spins the Wheel the lights are dizzying. Perhaps it’s the lingering effects of the hallucinogen in all your systems. The click click click click click of the stopper against the pegs heightens already raw nerves, the room itself seems for a moment to be holding its breath. And then it stops, at last. Slowly. The last peg on one of the wedges clicks over, leaving the stopper resting right on the edge of… Cyan.

When it lights up, a silhouetted image of an Ear is visible. That’s… not as bad as it could be, at least, right…?

And Romeo too sees it clearly. He shows as much by the clicking of his tongue- he seems… unaffected? No. He seems slightly disappointed.

“No, no, that will not do at all.” He says, calmly, one of his hands wandering up to his ear as if in deep thought, running his hand along his piercings. He lets go of them shortly after to shake his head slightly.

“A missing ear would be way too disfiguring for me. Another spin? Yes. I think I’ll take another.”

He nods to himself, then turns to Kazuya, waiting for a signal of sorts.

“…It’s up to you. Just go ahead and spin again, then. Someone else will go after you.” Kazuya’s tone is resigned, it wouldn’t do any good to be judgmental. 

When Romeo spins again, the lights seem to go by even more quickly. Around and around it goes. Click click click click click… and finally it coasts to a stop on a Yellow wedge, which lights up to show a question mark. Judging by how this went for Teddi, it’s probably not as much of an escape as it seems, but at least it won’t involve any blood or pain, right…?

“Ah.”

It does not seem clear cut to Romeo, who tilts his head and purses his lips, thinking, apparently, about whether or not he should accept those terms. If he spares a thought at all to those who will have to share his fate if he says no, he doesn’t show it. Maybe he doesn’t think about any of you at all. Or maybe he does, and it just doesn’t matter to him.

Which one would be worse…? Hard to say at this point.

But he shakes his head again, and waves the results off.

“No, I don’t think so. Privacy is an important thing to keep, don’t you agree? Another one then!”

There’s a sort of chipper joy to it when he says it, and it’s accompanied by that smile he wears, completely out of place in the situation and yet strangely fitting- if this were all just light fun, and not life and death. But Romeo’s hand is already back on the wheel, and a short glance is spared to Kazuya, nothing more.

This time Kazuya doesn’t say anything, just gives a short nod and a little gesture of their hand to indicate he can go again. Some of you are probably feeling pretty tense and irate right about now. That’s two more people who will have to take a turn now, and for what? What could Romeo possibly have to hide? Weren’t those both fairly minor results? How many times was he going to do this? 

At least one more. The wheel spins again, each click another jump of a beating heart. Where will it end? How long do you have to watch this - there it goes. Slowing, coasting to a stop, the stopper finally catching a peg on… Magenta. The wedge lights up, showing the stylized but unmistakable silhouette of an eye. 

Romeo raises his hand already the moment it stops, mouth half open to signal that he will pass again- probably, but who can tell, really, when the sound never comes.

Instead, he looks at the symbol, and closes his mouth. Lowers his hand, and puts a single finger to his chin. He’s quiet. Thinking. Tilting his head a little to one, then the other side.

He raises his hand again, calmly, and puts it over one eye, then the other. Then, as if he’d just remembered their existence, he turns to the figure in the back, and drops his hand again. His eyes slowly wander their frame, take in their face, their hair, study their features.

Then, finally, he turns back around to Kazuya again, and nods.

“Yes. Yes I can do that.”

He claps his hands, once, rubs them almost in anticipation it seems.

“Now, how will we go about it? And which one will you take? Personally, I would advise the right, but- ah, well. I suppose I will see.”

He raises his shoulders in a shrug, then gives a small chuckle as they drop.

By the time the evening of the 5th day of the motive - the 10th day overall - comes around, it’s possible you’re all actually looking forward to the purported Suffering Game. While it seems that, thankfully, no one succumbed to it to the point of committing a murder, it’s still been a fairly brutal period. The almost constant sounds in your ears, voices and noises connected to your worst fears and insecurities, would have been hard enough to contend with on their own, the combination of them with the sensory hallucinations had been nearly unbearable. Reality itself was increasingly difficult to grasp…

But then, all at once, the sounds stop. The other hallucinations are still lingering, but at least you have some relief from the devices in your ears. Instead what you hear is your ElectroIDs buzzing and dinging for your attention. Once you’ve pulled it out, reluctant or eager, you see the message summoning you to the short hallway between Rooms E and F. There, waiting for you whenever your group has fully assembled, is Kazuya again, standing in front of the open plate in the wall that leads into the Wheel Room.

“The, uh… hallucinogenic should leave your system by tomorrow… s-sorry, there’s no way to purge it instantly. But you can take the transmitters out of your ears now… they should already have been disabled. Um. I… I think we should… probably just get to it.” They make a vague beckoning gesture and turn to lead all of you through the wall and into the room with all the podiums and the Wheel in the center. It’s just as it was before, the lights blinking on as you step inside, and Kazuya reluctantly moves to stand next to it. 

This time though, there are already several of the androids lined up at the back of the room. They aren’t alone, either. Another figure stands just behind them, in an open gap in the wall where a plate has slid aside already. They’re fairly tall, and from the knee down, their right leg is a robotic prosthetic. It’s all elegant shaped silvery metal ending in a perfectly sculpted cloven hoof, shoed with the same thick rubber you’d use to tip a cane.

“…”

Not the talkative type, apparently.

“D-don’t mind him for now. He’s, um, just here to assist if anyone ends up with a major injury.” Kazuya barely even glances in the new person’s direction before taking a deep breath and continuing. “So, uh… just getting right to it. Right. Um, the rules and stuff are the same. You can check your ElectroID if you need a reminder. But the first person who’ll have to spin this time is… Romeo Gallo. I’m- I’m sorry.”

It’s getting harder to say, not because they don’t mean it - they do, that much is obvious. But how many times can they apologize when that’s all they have to offer? Apologies don’t make it better, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.

-

He’s hesitant to follow the instructions left for him, thoughts turning to the last thing the ID had forced him through. Still François, though each step tentative, does show up without much fuss. He breaths in sharply when Kazuya steps out, a small part of him still expecting her instead of them. 

He hadn’t bothered to read the rules, he hadn’t wanted to have to look through anything on the ID after what had happened. It was easier to just avoid it all together, to think about it a bit less. He follows silently, eyes flitting between the walls, waiting incase another panel opened and she stepped out. It wasn’t her though, he knew that she wasn’t her. Despite that he couldn’t stop the need to keep glancing around, even in the new room. 

He almost misses the name, too caught up in his search. Teddi, that was the tattoo artist, they had met. He knew him, barely but he knew him. He forces himself to look at Teddi, to watch because it was important instead of indulging in some childish belief. He’s bites his lip when the wheel stops, and forces an objection at Teddi’s words to Kazuya back down his throat. Teddi was upset, thought still it wasn’t Kazuya’s fault, they hadn’t done anything that wasn’t unjustified. 

[cw: breathing difficulty]

Teddi spins again and Fran watches, tensely from where he stands rigid and at attention. The words life a knife, the cold air and blinding lights, soft words lost to the wind. His hands shake, but he stays rigid, desperate and sweaty. It’s hard to focus on what he’s being told, a secret that wasn’t meant for him. He hears the words but they’re muddled by racing thoughts he can barely follow, too soft against the the racing heartbeat pounding in his ears. He grits his teeth behind the thin hard line of his lips, scrunching his eyes shut and taking in frantic breaths. Unthinking one hand, shaking like a leaf in the wind, moves up to clench around his rings desperately.

He’s not even the one being made to spin the wheel.

The whole process continues like that, every few words being said make it past his ears. He blinks back tears, desperately trying to stand straighter, franticly trying to keep his erratic breaths quiet. It’s dizzying but he can feel eyes in the room, disapproving eyes. Always so disappointed. Too many sets, too many people. He needed to hold still, he needed to swallow this down and fight it off until he was alone, safe and alone. He tries to focus on Mariko, the robots, Kazuya, anything but everything is so fragmented,  happening too fast for him to follow. Barely able to even process it was Mariko, that she even fell at any point. Every blink following a soon lost thought, too many going off at once, slipping again but leaving him haggard. 

As Mariko shakes, so does Kazuya, obviously avoiding looking in her direction. But they wipe their own tears away and take a few rough, steadying breaths before they answer, keeping their voice as firm as they can. 

“Yes, that’s… it’s over, for now. If you want more medical attention you can, um, follow us… otherwise…”

One of the androids pops open a compartment in its arm and turns it to drop a few packages on the floor. Boxes of bandages and tubes of antiseptic.

“Someone will check on you later.” This is directed at Mariko, though they still can’t seem to bring themself to do more than dart their gaze at her and away again.

For a moment they look back up at all of you, their gaze coming to rest on Kiki, who has stood like a statue throughout the process. But now she speaks, “I’m sorry, but why… Zuzu, I never asked you to-”

Kazuya interrupts her with another shake of their head.

“You didn’t have to. You’re my sister, Kiki. This… isn’t your fault.” They look back over the rest of you. 

“There will be another announcement later, a… a motive that will start taking effect tomorrow. But for now just… please just go.”

 The androids beep and start rolling towards the wall, which slides open again, and after a moment of hesitation Kazuya follows them through, whether or not Mariko accompanies them. The plate slides shut behind them, and a section of metal on the other side of the room slides open, leading you all directly back into the short hall between Rooms E and F. There are no other turns, no other exits. There’s nowhere else to go.

But like Kazuya said, it’s over. For now…

–

[Reaction Posts may now be Submitted. Motive will be posted tomorrow, Sunday the 23rd, at 1pm PST. It will be announced on the 6th IC Day, or the ‘1st Day’ of the New Cycle/Five-Day period, so you’re free to start some post-Suffering Game threads that take place on Day 5 Evening.]