#ds2 ch2

And then it’s over. The screen goes dark and recedes back into the ceiling. Onryo is already gone, along with the robots. Presumably they think you’re all aware of the protocol by now. The elevator that will take you away from this place, back to the Blue Level, stands open at the back of the room, waiting for everyone to board.

How do you feel? Relieved, that the only other person to die was Hex? Satisfied, even? Perhaps you don’t feel much of anything. Or maybe you’re thinking that, no matter how horrible, no one deserved to die like that. Dorian’s execution had been a theatrical spectacle, but at least the actual death was quick. Bloody, but not an extended, agonizing torture. Even Lyric’s murder, while it had a gruesome aftermath, was swift, instant, no time for suffering.

Nothing like what you just witnessed. Nothing like the sight of Hex’s body, a sight that isn’t likely to leave the memory of all who saw it before the screen shut off any time soon.

But there’s nothing more to do now but leave this room, with the smell of blood in the air - very real - and a lingering hint of charred flesh, which may or may not be imagined.

Perhaps Hex seems unsteady or groggy as she approaches the Wheel. Given her silence during the entirety of trial and the fact that several of you saw her sleeping through the investigation period, it seems likely that Onryo’s comment about her snoozing through the voting period was correct. Was she ill? Had the nanites taken that much of a toll on her? Or maybe this was an extension of how little she cared about anyone else.

Whatever the case, she moves to spin. After two Yellow results in a row, it’s doubtful that she’ll be getting off easy this time. The odds certainly aren’t in her favor. But perhaps it’s hard to work up much concern for her anyway, considering how consistently nasty she’s been to everyone she’s encountered. The Wheel turns, and there’s still a sense of suspense, but when it stops…

The wedge at the top lights up White.

“White. Execution.”

Onryo says nothing this time, has little reaction beyond the continued presence of their cheshire grin. And while there may be a smug air about Hex, some expectation that her shield will protect her… it doesn’t. A chain shoots out of the walls, metal clamps around Hex’s arms and she’s jerked suddenly back and out of sight.

Moments later, the massive screen from the last execution descends from the ceiling once again and lights up. A new scene flickers into view on it, settling into high definition.

Hexecution

Hex is strapped down to a metal chair in a smoky room, vague shapes twisting and undulating just out of view. A low thrumming fills the air around the chair, and Hex hisses uncomfortably as the temperature begins to rise, sweat beading on her forehead. Suddenly, a magnetized ball bearing falls through the smoke, pinging as it fixes itself to the chair. Then one more, and another, and another, until there’s a veritable stream of them, all flinging themselves down into the chair. Hex isn’t hurt by them, but eventually there’s no more open metal for them to fix themselves to, and the pinging stops as they find purchase on her instead, futilely pushing up against her to make contact with the chair beneath. 

The temperature rises again, and Hex is practically soaked through. Her breathing is heavy, eyes darting back and forth as she waits for whatever’s meant to kill her- but no magnetized weapon suddenly pierces her. Instead, there’s nothing but the endless shower of ball bearings. Hex is practically covered by them by this point.

[CW: Severe and Fatal Burns, Skin Trauma, Choking/Difficulty Breathing, Some Gore, Holes in Skin]

“Operative Cog!” Onryo calls out into the stunned, surreal silence that follows Tom being carried out of the room. “You’re up next. You know what to do, you’ve done it before after all. Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

Cog ambled forward. He couldn’t focus on the trial, and now he was paying for it. A light trembling shook his hand, fearing his other eye was next. He closed it shut and gave the wheel a spin.  

This time when the Wheel catches after several tense seconds of dizzying spins, the lights whirling in a dance that seems more and more unsettling each time, it stops on a wedge that lights up… Yellow, with the standard question mark symbol.

“Yellow. Secret Reveal.” The Wheel announces, and Onryo lets out a sharp, surprisingly mirthless laugh. 

“Alright, well you don’t get to say no, so I’ll just get straight to the dirt, shall I? Tama Fukumura, also known as Operative Cog, guilty of having sold military grade weaponry of her own invention to foreign powers and terrorist organizations. You didn’t care who you were selling to so long as you got the money to continue your work, isn’t that right? Do you even know how much blood is on your hands? You’re really rather lucky that WC found you before the government did, and put a stop to your mass destruction roulette.”

Tama eyed (pun intended) Onryo warily. “...I did what I do. I wasn’t funded by anyone, and I took matters into my own hands, alright?”

“Whatever, we still have two more spins to go. You can worry about your personal fallout later.” Onryo shakes their head dismissively, and raises their voice a bit to call out the next name, “Operative Maestro! I believe you wanted a turn? You must have, since you went and voted for yourself, despite knowing that certainly wasn’t the right answer. I wonder if you’re just a glutton for punishment. Well, come and get it.”

“Oh sharkbait you do care.” Maestro Said sing songily as he jauntily stepped to the wheel to avoid people clocking the slight shake in his step. What he’d just witnessed was? Well One was awful and the other was? Unpleasant, and sure Tom wasn’t going to go through this alone but suddenly he was having second thoughts about sharing in the misery. 

God wouldn’t that just be the fuck of it all. Maestro steps up to the wheel and takes a deep breath, steeling himself to the results that were a possibility. The white Wedge taunting him. With a false bravado Maestro stuck out his hand and Spun.

Given the results so far, it’s easy to expect the worst. The wheel spins and spins, a rapid clickclickclick that gradually slows until it stops… once again on Yellow. 

“Yellow. Loss of Privilege.”

“Oh.” Onryo’s smile is as wide as it goes, shark teeth on full display. “How fun. We’ve been waiting for that to come up again, and I think you’ll have an especially great time with our latest idea.” 

A pair of robots rolls over, one of them seizing hold of Maestro suddenly, in much the same manner as the people who’ve been maimed thus far have been grabbed. One of them yanks up Maestro’s sleeve…

[CW: Syringe, Needles, Injection]

And extends a needle from one of its fingers, which it slips unceremoniously but efficiently into a vein on his inner elbow.

“We’ll call this… loss of lying privileges. Truth serum is a bit of a misnomer. While there are numerous chemicals that have been called that and quite a few attempts to develop a real one, thus far most of them don’t work - at least not particularly effectively. This one, however, is something new. It’s a prototype, so it’ll be interesting to see what exactly it does to you, but it should work in tandem with the lingering nanites in your brain - we’ll be sure to reactivate those. For the next several days, you should have a hard time telling lies… or shutting up, for that matter. I could get into the detailed science of it if I had to, but honestly I’m not a chemist or a neurologist, and Frost is busy at the moment, so you’ll just have to learn through experience. That should be fun.”

Maestro held his arms out in a T-Pose as the Robots approached, Not a shred of fear visible on his face, though most of his face was obfuscated, as the robot Yanked up his sleeves and he saw the needle. Mostly this was fine until Onryo Started talking, Explaining exactly what it meant to lose lying privileges. And he was Kinda Mad about that honestly, but it looked like the nanites weren’t reactivated yet so his anger could stay his own for now. “Well at least it’s not a rib am i right Gamers?” Maestro Pushed back down his sleeve as the robots left him. Morbid humor for sure but honestly? Didn’t matter to him right now. His turn was over and he rejoined his associates as the wheel is freed for Hex. 

Regardless of what he says or tries to do, Maestro is dragged off to the side again by the robots, making room by the wheel once more.

“Alright, the Wheel should be properly working now. Naturally we’ll be starting things off with our killer. Fun fact by the way… I’ve heard reviews of the security footage, and Lyric wasn’t trying to kill you. They got the axe as a random item from the machine, and were intending to bring it to you as a gift. Do they really seem like the kind of person who even knew how to hold an axe? I guess your paranoia worked against you there. Or rather, against them. Maybe you should work on your panic responses. Anyway. Remember, there’s no opportunity to Pass in this very special Suffering Game. That goes for everyone. Maybe you’ll learn to vote and participate properly next time… if you all make it to next time, that is. Tomahawk, come up here and take your turn.”

Tom glances at Onryo, expressionlessly. “You’re a liar.” is all she has to say. By now, Tom was too exhausted to let them send her into another panic. She already knew her truth, and didn’t trust Onryo’s for a second.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before spinning the wheel. As she watches the colors swirl around, Tom was certain it would land on white, and these would be her final moment. Her heart was pounding as it slowed down, appearing for a moment that it would land right where she thought it would.

It doesn’t take long for the flashing Wheel to coast to a stop, the wedge that catches at the top lighting up Cyan, showing a silhouetted image of… a rib cage. The robotic voice of the wheel reads out, “Cyan, rib.” And without further delay several of the robots from the back of the room come forward to seize hold of Tomahawk. With the punishment being mandatory, there’s no need for them to wait for her to accept or even react before they take action. 

One of the robots takes hold of her from behind, sliding its metal arms under her shoulders to pull her arms back. Another lifts up her tank top just enough to expose the bottom of her ribcage, and…

[CW: Gore]

Just as it looks like tensions might be starting to mount again with the question of voting, Onryo suddenly stands up, thwapping their cane against the floor sharply to get attention.

"Well, that's all the time we have for today. If you haven't input your vote yet, that's your problem." They announce flatly, "They've been tallied and adjusted as they came in, so I can tell you all the results right away." They pause, briefly, as though for effect, or perhaps listening to something. And then a smile spreads across their face.

"Interesting. Okay, here we are folks. There were Eleven Votes for Operative Tomahawk. One vote for Operative Maestro. And we had two defaults! Operatives Hex and Cog! What did you fall asleep or something? That sucks for you, because the majority are Correct! Tomahawk killed Lyric, good job, bit of an obvious case but it is only our first murder here. Hopefully you'll all get more creative in the future, especially since all twelve voters chose to select Spin. So that goes to show you can totally commit a murder and your fellow subjects will let you off easy." Onyro steps forward, passing through the podiums to stand by the Wheel as it lights up, starting to hum to life.

"Tomahawk will have to spin, and so will Maestro, Hex, and Cog. How exciting, that's actually more spinners than we'd have had for a regular Suffering Game. You're all kind of bad at this, aren't you? So, it'll take a couple minutes for this to warm up, why don't you all talk amongst yourselves a little?"

--

It’s been about four hours since the discovery of the body, the afternoon turning late, when your ElectroIDs begin to buzz and beep for your attention once again. As soon as the screens are tapped they emit the message in Onryo’s voice:

“Investigations are over! Meet up at the elevator, it’ll take you to the trial room.” 

No matter how much you may dislike it, it’s common knowledge by now that Onryo’s orders aren’t exactly optional. Sooner or later, you all gather in the elevator, which sure enough takes you back up to the Wheel Room… this time, however, the wheel is dark. No spinning or flashing lights, not yet. Instead all the podiums are lit up, touchscreens on the top active and your codenames on the front thrown into sharp relief. 

Onryo is sitting in a foldable chair at the back of the room, flanked by robots. Frost is nearby as well, her arms crossed, looking strangely pouty.

“Hello again. Is that everyone? Fantastic! So, I’m sure you’re all more than clever enough to understand what’s meant to happen here, but since that was a joke and I sincerely doubt most of you have two braincells to rub together, I’ll go ahead and do a brief explanation anyway. One of you killed Kitaro Suko. Now that you’ve all had the opportunity to investigate this most heinous crime - whether or not you actually used that opportunity isn’t my problem - it’s time to bring it to trial. Present your evidence, discuss your theories, decide on a suspect, and vote. You should all have the ability to vote using the touch screens on your podiums. You can input your vote at any time during the trial, and can change it by simply selecting another name. That being said, this trial is on a time limit, we don’t want to be here all night after all, so you won’t be able to enter or change your vote after we hit the end of that time limit. Why should you all go along with this? Simple. If you don’t successfully catch the culprit, they’ll get to pick one of you to spin our beautiful Wheel, and in post-trial Suffering Games you do not have the privilege of Passing. You’re stuck with whatever result you get. And don’t think you can sit back and let other people do your dirty work either - if you don’t vote, you default, and defaulting is counted as a wrong vote. Which, in case you still haven’t been reading the rules on your ElectroID, means that if the culprit is successfully caught by the majority and you didn’t vote for them… you have to spin. So don’t be a cowardly moral purist. Put those votes in.”

“And don’t be wrong. Now!” They clap their hands abruptly, “Go ahead and start! Oh, and don’t forget to have fun!”

--

[ Victim Name ] Kitaro Suko | Operative Lyric [ Body Location ] Laundry Room - Blue Level [ Time of Death ] 10:32PM [ Time of Discovery ] 1:06PM [ Cause of Death ] Sharp Force Trauma [ Body Discovered By ] Bullseye, Chimera, Labrat

---

Shortly after Lyric’s body is discovered, everyone’s ElectroIDs beep and buzz with the arrival of a new file, containing a photo and some basic information regarding the murder.

There’s also a pop-up window instructing everyone to gather at the Laundry Room to begin investigations!

What an interesting time these last five days has been. Everyone’s been on the up and down, and there’s someone who, right now, is very clearly at the very tippy top of one of those ups. Bullseye is practically bouncing with every step as he carries a bag of laundry to be washed - you probably didn’t think it was possible for this man to look more smug, but the cat that ate the cream’s got nothing on him right now.

Not wanting to go through the effort of dropping and picking up the bag, Bullseye shoulders open the door to the laundry room. As he turns to choose a washing machine, he frowns as he notices one’s been left open. Do people just not care about neatening things up any more? And clearly they’ve been washing their clothes wrong, too, because some colour has leaked. Who wears red clothes around here? Surely Paradigm knows better? Maybe Tomahawk. She seems like she wouldn’t know about that sort of thing.

...Wait. Now he’s come closer, that’s not dye. His face pales and the smirk falls away as morbid curiosity drags him closer, as if by the collar.

...That is definitely not dye. Would it be insensitive to call it ‘die’?

Bullseye staggers back, but it’s too late now, because all his own blood is rushing to his head, and his knees are giving way, and he’s collapsed on the floor, his laundry scattered inelegantly around him.

Sometime later, a certain cat and rat passed down the hall, their destination being the VR room. Chimera clung tightly onto Labrat as they walked, feeling the full effect of the motive at this point. Given how their games seemed to usually end, this should've realistically been the last thing either one wanted, but it was the time with HG and with each other that kept them hopping from game room to game room. As they passed by the laundry room, Labrat noticed Bullseye and instinctively gave a cheerful wave, happy to see-

Wait was he on the ground --

Any bit of relief and cheer he felt before immediately vanished as Labrat bolted back to the laundry room, nearly knocking Chimera over in the process. He had a new goal in mind that seemed to shroud any other thought that crossed his mind: save Bullseye. As soon as he entered, Labrat crouched on the floor in front of the passed out man, the rest of his surroundings going unnoticed

"Bullseye….please wake up...th-the library...is much more c-comfy...to sleep in"

As Labrat went to check on Bullseye, Chimera had been left hovering in the background. Initially, they had been getting ready to run to Frost for medical help, but now they knew he’d just passed out. Their eyes scanned the room, trying to figure out the cause. Last time he fainted it had been because- Something caught their eye before they could finish that thought.

Red? Why was there red on the ground…

Chimera was silent as they stepped over Bullseye’s prone body, despite the fact they could have easily just walked around him. No, their mind was too focused on the iron smell and the bright bright red… Rust? No, it was much too dark for that. There was only one thing this could be. Like a machine, they moved forward, the rest of the world oddly still to them.

There was something, or someone, in the washing machine, their body still seeping blood. As Chimera leaned in to inspect the source of the red, all the world blacked out for them. Fear gripped their heart and they wanted to scream. Instead, something else came out.

“Labrat! L-look away! Don’t look over here!”

Oh foolish kitten, don’t you know, when you tell someone not to look at something, you’d make it almost certain that they will. Sure enough, their cry made Labrat turn towards the machine almost instantly, going from simple panic to violent shaking within moments. He was gonna be sick.

"I-I…."

It was a miracle he didn't carelessly drop Bullseye to the ground as he scurried over to the machine. Usually, blood was something Labrat avoided, but he found his tear filled eye glued to the source of it this time around. He found one hand resting on the blood soaked machine, the other desperately gripping onto Chimera's shoulder as he tried his best not to end up like Bullseye. This... this couldn't be real, it wasn't allowed...

[CW: Blood, Head Trauma]