#dhexecution

Shackled round the neck, a chain dragged Azaki through a set of dense black curtains and into a cemetery thick with fog. Tightly packed headstones were tipped and crumbling, the grass around them as dead as the bodies six feet below.

He had claimed the lives of many. Each time they had grieved together, cursing the monster with the gall to put them through this—but now it was his turn to go. Perhaps, the counselor hoped, his loss would eclipse their anger. They would grow from this, he was certain, and in his last few moments, maybe so would he. They were his friends, after all, and Azaki would miss them sorely.

Beams of sunlight cut between the trees and through the mist. It was a fitting place to go, he thought, at peace as he careened through the graveyard. But the chain's pull began to slow, and Azaki craned his neck to view his destination. When he saw what awaited, the implications of his dying place began to dawn on him.

The counselor clawed at the shackle as it pulled him into a casket—a fine thing, richly decorated with plush red velvet, but its quality was lost on the counselor. He wanted to go out grieving, but in a dark casket he could only lose his mind.

The ritual was attended by grieving black-clad monomothers comforting wailing monochildren. Monofathers, ever stoic, stood by and fought back their own tears. When the monopriest began his piece the casket was lowered and, slowly, the lid began to close. Azaki hurriedly straightened his rumpled blazer. If he could control nothing else, he would make sure he was neat. Then the casket shut, and the counselor was wrapped in darkness.

"Get me out," he breathed.

He could hear shovelfuls of dirt hitting the lid and he writhed. There was no space to bend or turn, but he could feel something down by his waist. Azaki investigated it with his hands—small, smooth, maybe metallic. It was distantly familiar, but when he discovered a button he knew exactly what it was. The counselor smiled. He hadn't expected such kindness from his mascot.

The flashlight lit the casket from end to end, but his relief only lasted as long as it took for his eyes to adjust. Before he could think, Azaki had flung the light to his feet and was wrapped in darkness once again. The lid had been a mirror all along.

"Get me out!" he shrieked. Azaki struck his head against the glass. "Get me out!"

Over and over, he slammed his forehead into the mirror, into the afterimage of his—of his father’s—face. Above ground and almost in sync, Monokumas were shovelling dirt onto the casket.

"Getmeoutgetmeoutgetmeoutgetmeoutgetmeout!"

All he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears and cracking glass, then the mirror shattered, the lid collapsed, and the grief counselor was crushed by earth.

Sekai’s classmates assembled before a wide, empty stage accompanied by the classic red curtains of theatre. As the lights dimmed, the rich sound of strings and brass rose up from below—if the students were to approach the gold rails in front of them, they would see the symphony stationed beneath the stage, all dutifully playing their part. It would have been an almost comforting sight if not for the fact that each and every member of the symphony was a black and white bear. In one corner was a Monoviolinist, in the other a Monotrumpet player, and at the centre, Monokuma himself raised his little arms to conduct the concerto.

With a clap, the lights were off. A metal whirring filled the dark room where the captive audience stood blind and waiting, the symphony playing its disarmingly calming piece all the while.

A spotlight snapped on. From high up above, a colossal hand hovered with strings dangling from its robotic digits. At the end of those strings was its living puppet, Sekai, the childish boy who had taken the life of a Hope’s Peak student with such unexpected brutality.

Beneath the inhuman palm, Sekai looked comically small. Dangling there in his yellow raincoat and mismatched shoes, he looked out at the audience with the bright smile of a true showman. At his right side, Felix the puppet was slipped from Sekai’s hand and made the long drop down to the stage. It was almost chilling to see the puppet—who always had so much to say—become a shapeless heap on the floor. The cold ease with which Sekai had discarded him was just as unpleasant.

At his left side, Maximilian came to life, straightening up to give an eyeless stare at the audience. For the first time, the puppet spoke:

“C͓̘̳̖̙ẖ̼̤o̭̖k͎̩̜̳ͅe͉͔̼̝ o̙̘̯̮̩̜̖n̼͈  ͙̭̥ͅḏͅe͉̙̳̝̰s͈p̩̞͓a͇̙͎̮͕̻͓i̩̻͍̱ͅͅr̯̬̲̲.̬͕͚̭̬̠͖ N̳o̫͖ ͈͓̬̫̪̪o̝̫̞̜̯̲n̞̮͇e̝̙̩̥̜ ̥̩̠̙is͚̤̟ ̳͇s͈͎̤͍̳af̲͔̣e̯̰̠̤̯ͅ.̼̝̱̪̟͔͇”

It was then that the music began to swell. The strings lurched Sekai upwards, and he was powerless to resist as his arms began to flail and sway to the symphony’s song. Unabashed laughter flew from Sekai’s mouth as he was made to dance around the stage, stopping short as his own hand flew up to slap him in the face. With a stunned smile, Sekai peered out at the dark theatre, barely able to make out the faces of his classmates. He did not even notice the knife, slowly lowering down  on its own clear thread a few feet away.

Sekai’s arm was pulled along, his hand made to open and close around the knife’s handle. His other arm shot up into the air, and a second knife dropped into his grip. With hands that had learned expert dexterity, he made a show of twirling the blades—but this was not his show.

As all the strings tugged upwards on his arms, he knew in an instant how this would end. Beads of sweat began to form at his temples and arms quaked with resistance, but still Sekai smiled wide. He drew in a breath and cried out:

“Everyone . . .THANK YOU ♪ ~ !!”

The knives in his hands began their rapid-fire assault against Sekai’s torso. He was made to deliver the stabs so quickly that the knives became a blur, showing only glimpses of the gruesome, steadily growing stain that marred his shirt. The room filled with the sounds of blaring instruments, the conductor’s arms gesturing wildly as the enormous mechanical hand puppeted its subject to its death.

When the music stopped, so did everything else. Casting a grisly silhouette, Sekai dangled lifeless from the strings. An errant trickle of blood began to drip from the tip of his shoe onto the stage.

Caren found herself standing on what seemed to be a four-tiered cake. The icing was soft underneath her feet, and she gripped a sharp kitchen knife in her hand with the smallest of smirks on her face.

The decorations beside her began to quiver and suddenly sprung to life, with razor sharp icing claws that slashed at her. She nimbly danced around each attack, giggling as she lashed out, smashing decoration after decoration. Gingerbread men iced to resemble the other students leapt towards her and she hummed, smashing them to pieces without a single moment of hesitation. When she got to the Sahirah version, she took extra time slicing and dicing, grinning up at the camera and flashing a peace sign. It seemed like they were all gone including the one which had given her the most trouble, the Caren version. But wait, weren’t there only seventeen of them? She could have sworn that there was eightee-

Her thoughts were cut short as the claws erupted from her stomach, a breathless cry escaping her as it lifted her. She turned her head to see him. The gingerbread man was decorated to look like him. Timaeus. God damn it. In a fit of rage she threw the knife behind her and speared him in the throat, causing him to drop her. She hit the ground heavily, clutching her wounds as she turned and angrily stamped on him, breaking him to pieces.

A shadow cast over her, and she turned only to blanch white. While the figure looming over the cake wasn’t recognizable to the other students, it was a figure that she knew all too well. It was apparent on her face as she moved back, genuine terror on the decorator’s face as tears rolled down her cheek. The figure glared down at her, before lifting up a knife to cut the cake. She stumbled and collapsed, helpless as the knife raised.

Caren paused, before glancing at the camera and giving a weak smile. “Guess I really am weak after all, huh?” She laughed miserably, her hand moving across the surface of the cake. And then the knife came down, effectively cutting a slice of cake and Caren in half. As the camera zooms in, a small message is written in blood.

Before Ren and Tomo was a large, deep pit, and a sheer metal wall on each side. The distance was too far to cross alone; they would have to use each other as support to get across. That being said, they had a relatively safe platform to stand on. What was going to force them to risk their lives? Oh… That.

The floor beneath them started slowly receding towards the entrance, which of course was locked. Tomo spoke surprisingly calmly, though a faint waver could be heard in his voice. “Take your shoes off. We’ll need traction for this. Hurry.” When the two were properly arranged, they stood back-to-back with their arms linked at the elbows, smack at the entrance of the pit.

Nervously, Ren’s eyes glanced towards the bottom. A bead of sweat trickled down from his forehead, to his cheek, to his chin, until it dripped off, falling indefinitely into what seemed to be a void of nothingness.

So… They had to move across, huh?

“Alright… we need to move in unison… let’s… move to the beat of…” Dammit, why was the only song he could think of “Mirrors”? “ ‘Mirrors’… Can you do that? We’re starting with your right foot. Understand? You count us off.”

With Tomo’s direction, the two boys slowly, ever so slowly, inched across the footholds. The stretch seemed to go on forever… Eventually, they began to notice the pit growing wider and wider and wider and wider, until they were near horizontal, barely able to cling to each other anymore.

“T-Tomo, I… I need to tell you something.”

“Wh-what is it, Ren?”

“…You’re my best friend, you know that? …I’m sorry I’ve been s-so terrible after Nao died, but… But I just… No matter what happens, I love you, okay? You’re the best friend I could have ever asked for.”

After a moment of silence Tomo responded. “Yeah… I love you, too, but save that for once we’re safe, alright? We’re almost there.”

Tomo knew what those were. Those were Ren’s final words… in case they didn’t make it. If… If they didn’t make it, there were a few things that needed to be said.

“All of you… I hope you’re listening. Nao traded his life for information in hopes he could save the rest of us. I’m not going to let that be in vain. One of the people standing in that room is the mastermind. They’re the person behind all this. They… Damn!” Tomo’s foot had slipped momentarily. “They aren’t alone. There’s someone else working for them. Finally… he wanted us to know that there was something going on outside. That it was dangerous, and that we are safer here. Please… don’t make the same mistakes we did. Stay safe.”

Just when it seemed like they couldn’t hold on any longer, the friends reached the very end, rolling off onto the ground. A nervous laugh pushed up from Ren’s gut, growing into a far more boisterous one. They had done it! Tomo was safe! He was alive and safe and they had made it.

The blond pushed off of the soft, grassy ground, getting back up onto his feet, and placed his hands on Tomo’s shoulders. His eyes were watering, but a large grin decorated his face as he was pulled into a brief hug.

“I… I told you we’d make it.” Tomo said breathing rather heavily as he pulled away. “I—”

Ren cut him off. “This is like Nakama’s trial… isn’t it? …You’re alive. You’re safe. B-But, I… I’m sorry Tomo. I don’t think… I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back. And with… with some sort of unknown danger outside, I…”

He let go and took a step backwards, continuing to face Tomo. “Ren… No…”

“It’s time for me to go visit Nao and Ruka.”

With his heels on the edge of the pit, Ren held his arms out from his sides and allowed himself to fall backwards into the pit below. Tomo dove in an attempt to catch the blond.  His hand just barely caught onto Ren’s fingers, but he caught him… He caught him.

“Ren! You’re not going to leave me alone again… I won’t allow it!” The boy struggled to lift his friend back to safety, the act distracting him from Monokuma walking up behind him. With a nonchalant shove from the bear, Tomo toppled over the edge hand-in-hand with Ren.

Monokuma turned on his heel, whistling the final lines to “Mirrors” as the pit slammed shut.

The clamps closed around Masaaki’s neck and dragged him into the execution room, which was unbelievably dark, aside from small neon lights on the floor. He could see tiny Monokuma clones running around the room but couldn’t make them out too well.

It was moments later that the paint ball bullets began pelting at him. He then realized he was in a laser tag-esque room, but had nothing to defend himself. He began frantically looking for something, or somewhere to hide. Alas, there was not enough light, and what he did find were thin walls that he kept bumping into but didn’t protect him from anything at all.

The more bullets that hit his thin frame, the weaker he began to feel. These were hitting harder and harder, harder than they should have been, and tore through his clothes, even going as far as to break his brittle bones.  After hundreds, if not thousands, bombarded in his direction, he fell face-first on the ground, unable to keep his balance any longer. His head was spinning, and he could hear the terrified whispers of his fellow classmates somewhere behind him.

He used his elbows to maneuver his way in the direction of the sounds, only to see their faces behind a glass wall, all horrified and disgusted by the scene in front of them. He reached a hand out, tears strolling down his cheeks as he attempted to call for help, but none of them even wanted to.

He betrayed their trust, and he could see the hurt behind every sorrowful set of eyes. He shook his head, finally accepting his fate, before murmuring “I’m sorry, thank you,” under his breath as a final bullet shot straight through his neck.

Yoshimitsu stood in the midst of a large field, yellowish grasses amid patches of soil blowing in the wind. Faceless bodies were scattered about the ground, and the scent of blood was sour in the air.

The wind picked up the hem of Monokuma’s kimono as he stood opposite Yoshimitsu. The two only faced off for a moment before the bear pulled something from his sleeve and hurled it at the other.

With a gasp, Yoshimitsu dodged, the round, green projectile sailing past her. She only got a moment to breathe before Monokuma began throwing more, of various colors, at an alarming speed. Yoshimitsu leapt out of the way of the first few, but she soon felt latex rubber pushing against her arm before it burst. The sudden burn of acid melting away her skin made her scream in pain, but she couldn’t afford to wallow in her misery. The distorted water balloons kept coming, and although she managed to shield herself with one of the bodies, the acid ate through it with just a couple of throws. She dropped it and sprinted for the next closest body, balloons bursting on the side of her head and hip.

Gasping, she held up her human shield but froze—not from the pain, but from the corpse she was holding before her. It had the face of her sister.

She watched it fade under an onslaught of acid before enough balloons burst on her to end it.

Violently the entire courtroom begins to shake, the flooring in the middle of the trial stands sliding apart to reveal a deep pit of black. Before anyone even has the chance to glance down and see what is within, a large silver column rises from it, shooting up in a blur. In unison the ceiling begins to move, shifting apart with a boom like thunder. Metal mechanisms, chains, and what look like circuits are hidden above, now sliding down to meet the column. The components slot together, a variety of Monobear's moving onto the scene to fix them into place. The process takes less than a minute, revealing a monster of an execution.

The room seems suddenly bright, metal glinting harshly in the fluorescent lights. Attached to the column that arose from the centre is a platform on one side, and a large robotic arm on the other. The two appear to be linked, revealed by the cut away section of column that reveals a chain connecting the arm and platform. All the walls around the courtroom have moved backwards, leaving a small space to students to remain by their trial stands. Behind them however is an expanse of white ground riddled with black holes of varying sizes.

As soon as he heard those words, the words that signified that he really was going to die here, Tatsuya's heart began to race. Quickly his breaths started to hitch in his throat, airy gasps barely leaving his form. A hand moved to clutch at his chest.

This... Was this what he deserved...?

Without realising it tears had begun to fall from his eye, the mechanical replacement's light dulling. Just as he opened his mouth to utter another apology to his dear friends, cold fingers wrapped themselves around a once broken wrist.

He turned to find that… demon… grinning at him. She had made his life a hell for who knows how long now, he had tried to forget, and now she would finally drag him to the grave for good. As he saw the hopelessness in her eyes, the despair tearing away at her, he began to accept his fate. He ignored the execution as it came into place, instead focusing on his thoughts. Finally, everything he had ever fought for had failed. Everyone he ever cared for was dead, or was about to enter Hell. Before, he had died out of courage. Now, he would die out of cowardice. He came to realise that this death was something he wanted, an end to his pain and a chance to be with his closest friends and family once again. Maybe he could even atone for the sins he had never wished to commit.

In the least he’d escape further pain and guilt.

So through the deafening sounds of metal against metal, a screeching that couldn’t be ignored, he smiled.

Chilled and slightly blue fingers in returned wrapped themselves around the females wrist- his grip soft. It was a silent apology, and a sign that he no longer feared her as much as he once did.

Throughout ‘Monobear’s’ little speech about having to draw this to an end, Chiau’s eyes were shut, a contented smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Despite being slightly disappointed that she wasn’t able to kill everyone, she felt satisfied with everything that had happened. Once her eyes fluttered back open, the entire scenery had changed. Ah, the execution was ready for her and her special ‘guest.’ Chiau took a hold of Tatsuya’s wrist, it wasn’t a strong hold, but it was forceful enough to be able to keep a grip on him if he tried to make a break for it.

Which she hoped wouldn’t be the case.

She took the boy to his side of the execution, her steps slowing ever so slightly as she felt the other take a hold of her own wrist. For a brief moment, she looked back at Tatsuya, her face expressionless, as she let go of him, sliding her own wrist out of his grip. She readied the chains, placing the Roboticist into the start of the inescapable act. She didn’t once look him in the eye, and once she was finished with him, she walked to her side of the execution, her boots against the cold metal floor, and her breathing, were the only sounds she could hear.

She was ready.

There was barely enough time for the Roboticist to turn his head to the remaining students, and let a ‘Thank you… and I am sorry….’ roll off of his tongue. Brutally he was tugged over to the back of his trial stand. For the first time he looked at how he was going to die, the sight of a chain and robotic claw sending chills down his spine. For a second his resolve wavered, and he pulled at the grip around his wrist.

It was futile.

Before he knew it he was standing under a large chain he had glimpsed earlier, littered with locks he had not previously noticed. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at the girl as he felt the metal coil around his body, almost painfully digging into his flesh. The click that resounded as each of the locks were closed only acted to make him more fearful. Of course he was going to die, and that much he wished for, but the humiliation and terror that would be invoked beforehand…? That was something he would have wanted to avoid. Even if it was deserved.

With his eyes still shut, all he could hear was the tap of boots against metal, and the gentle hum of the execution of standby.

Out of the blue, he felt the chains tighten around his form even further, eliciting a yelp of pain. He could feel his feet leave the floor, flailing momentarily as he yearned to stay grounded. As he ascended, he finally allowed himself a glimpse at his surroundings. What he saw was his class, now barely visible on the ground. Beneath him and to the side, he could just see Chiau, stepping onto a platform that he could of sworn used to be up near the ceiling. What worried him the most however, was the holes dotting the ground directly under and around his body. He had stepped over them when let her by Chiau… but what exactly were they?

His thoughts were cut short as he felt himself moving. A glance up and around confirmed that the central mechanism had begun to spin, taking both himself as the mastermind around in circles with it. At first, it was not so bad, but swiftly nausea took over. His body swayed violent as the machine span, the scenery shifting into a blur of colour.

That was when he suddenly felt himself plummeting to the ground, sharp hisses beginning to punctuate the air. He hadn’t even tried to escape… so what on Earth…? Unable to hold back a scream as his stomach dropped, he tried to get a grip on what was going on. All he could see around him were pitch black objects, shifting rapidly in and out of his view. His fall was abruptly halted, the machine stopping for a second.  Maybe he would have been relieved, if it wasn’t for the sharp pain flaring up along the length and breadth of his left leg, the agony heightened by the damp sensation of blood.

Wh…. What had hit him?

Timidly he looked downward, only to see one of the black objects he had noticed before just piercing into his flesh after cutting it.

It was a spike.

There were spikes shooting from the ceiling and the ground.

With a brief squelch, the metal began to move down, pulling itself out of his leg. Gritting his teeth, Tatsuya let his eyes shut, trying to force away the pain as his body was mercilessly thrown around in circles once more, terrified of the prospect of being impaled.

Once Chiau had taken her spot on the platform, she sat down, making herself rather comfortable, given the circumstances. She had the same contented smile back on her face from earlier, her eyes closed as she waited patiently for the execution to begin. A few thoughts rushed through her mind, but only briefly. Thoughts like, did Tatsuya really deserve this? Could she turn this around? Of course not. She wasn’t going to let all this be in vain.

She opened her eyes, just in time for the machinery to start its job. She brought herself to a standing position, her stance being one that would allow her to keep her balance whilst being spun around. To Chiau, this felt like a theme park ride, with more dire consequences than just throwing up everywhere afterwards. A squeal of glee escaped her mouth as she spun around, one hand holding back her bangs from flying in her face, whilst her other arm stretched out towards the middle of the mechanism, as if it were towards Tatsuya. A playful expression flashed across Chiau’s face, as if she wasn’t scared of what was to happen to her.

The platform raised further towards the ceiling that was covered in these sharp, black objects. However, Chiau wasn’t paying attention to any of that, in fact, she was more interested in Tatsuya. She waved down to him, hoping he’d look up at her, and it was only until one of the objects pierced itself through her arm that she realised where she was.

A scream echoed through the room. One would think it was a scream of agony, since it was so blood-curdling, and high pitched, but Chiau’s expression seemed to have said otherwise. The hand that had been holding onto her hair shakily touched the spike that was covered in her blood. As she trailed her fingers up and down the spike, it suddenly shot out of her arm, sending the main machine the message to begin spinning again.

How… How long had they been spinning…? H… How many times had he felt that pain shoot through some part of his body…? H...How much longer did he have to endure this torture…?

Tatsuya could barely feel anything any more, even the slick droplets of blood sliding from his form going unnoticed. Surely by now he should be dead…?

But he wasn’t and consistently the spikes assaulted him, the machine no longer bothering to stop. He was sure that if one of them caught a limb at the right angle, it would be torn straight off. That thought brought a silent sob on, and he shook lightly from the trauma of it all.

Once again he felt the weightlessness of being dropped from such a height on the chain, his torso surely bruised beyond comprehension from this treatment. Yet… something felt different this time. Maybe it was the sharp metallic jangle, or maybe it was that he was wishing for it all to end.

He felt his body moving to a more horizontal position. The wind generated from the speed he was falling at threw his hair about wildly. Blank eyes fluttered closed after taking in the sight of the spikes refusing to move beneath him…

...And he let the memories of those who he was to meet again flood his mind...

All of this spinning and being hit by the spikes at different angles was beginning to take a toll on Chiau, as it would anyone. She couldn’t remain standing for very much longer, so she resigned herself to laying down, her back feeling strangely comfortable on the fabric platform. She wasn’t aware at how much her body could stand, until she looked at her bloodied form, soft giggles escaping her mouth. Yes, this is what she wanted. A despair inducing end. She gazed at the ceiling, at the metal spikes that now weren’t moving. This surely was to mark the end of the execution. The way the machine had sped her ascent towards her demise sealed that thought for her.

She didn’t need to look anymore. She knew what was going to happen. With no remorse left in her at all, Chiau closed her eyes, and inhaled sharply, for it’d be her last.

Could she be forgiven in the afterlife?

Like she gave a damn.

Everything fell silent, the execution machine as still as the night. To its left, the body of a raven haired male lie, crushed under the weight of the the thick chain, twin spikes protruding from both his face and his torso. To its right, above everything was the body of the mastermind, spikes sticking out from her form at random. There was a smile on her lips, the blood slipping down her face dripping down to the floor below...

As he finished speaking the lights cut out, a blinding white spotlight shining down on another Monobear. He sat quietly, spinning thread behind Kaiko's stand. Humming as he worked, the bear was entirely focused on the glinting creation before him. His eyes suddenly snapped open, head rotating around to face the girl. With a flick of his paws the string was cast out towards her, a thin missile slicing through the air. With a tug on the thread the strings closed around her wrists, legs, stomach, cutting in and drawing thin trails of blood that snaked down her form.

Another bear emerged next to the string, measuring the length with a rod. Satisfied, he offered the others a nod. The spindle began to rotate, dragging the pinkette towards the walls, tightening the strings with every passing second. Until it broke. Wooden splinters flew out across the room showering the others. The threads were revealed to be an intricate system, rising to the ceiling. Gradually she was lifted into the air, suspended above the others. Some of them may have even found themselves splattered with droplets of blood as the strings bit into her with the ire of a raging beast. Then much like a puppet she was mercilessly cast about the room.

Limbs being forced to move in a chaotic dance she was paraded around the room, soon to be thrown through the gap creating by the slowly opening wall. Behind the wall was a magnificent stage, emblazoned with the finest carvings anyone could imagine.

But an all too modern sight soon tainted it. A chain link fence rose to fill the gap, blocking her from the others, but leaving the gruesome sight clear for all to see. Other puppets began to fill the spaces around her, taking part in her dark demise. If time was taken to study those blank faces, then perhaps Kaiko would have seen the artificial features of her dear puppet Mother among those around her. Those dolls seemed to move by themselves, but a giant Monobear had taken control of her, performing his own routine. If one observed the movements close enough, it almost looked like the murder was being re-enacted. Limbs were violently jerked, and like knives the strings cut in deeper. With an elegant swirl a spray of blood left her forearm, the silver wire biting down to the bone. The one controlling her looked down at the wound, smirking. With one paw raised he jerked the strings to the side, working to saw through the bone.

It didn't take long.

Soon there was a puddle of red on the floor, the limb sticking out from it almost comically. But nothing so vulgar could be deemed comical when punctuated by agonised screams.

Then out of the blue she was lowered to the floor with unusual gentleness, feet placed securely on the ground. A minute passed, then two, just enough time for balance to be regained, and perhaps for an inkling of hope to be restored. The strings fell limp, little silver piles gathering at her feet.

If she dared to glance upwards she would find the giant Monobear leering down at her, twiddling the thread he had hold of between his paws. Throwing his arms out to the sides, he span the string around his hands, the limp strands becoming taunt. With grim precision silvery vines wrapped themselves around the female's neck, thin fingers ready to cut off her life.

Slowly, deliberately they tightened, firstly cutting off her air supply. Breaths would become ragged, air would not be drawn into her lungs. Then rivers of blood would begin to drip from a slender wound, dyeing the pale parts of her clothing crimson. Gradually the lesion would move from skin to muscle, and from muscle to bone. Like a gaping mouth red would pour from her neck, the pale of white soon to be exposed.

In a lightning blur the string cut through, severing her head in one swift motion. It spiralled through the air, landing on the ground by the fence with an ominous thud. Through the dismal silence the sound of light footsteps was heard, as a content looking Monobear strolled forwards. Held tight between his paws were an rusted pair of scissors. Carelessly he placed the blades over the string, cutting in one fluid motion.