Their hands wouldn’t stop shaking long enough for them to think. A pile of weapons had taken up occupancy on the normally pristine shelves and table space in their room from knives to meathooks, the fruits of their labor—the first step in a plan to spring their escape. When fear forced their hand, some things weren’t this choice anymore.

Kaitaro Kobayashi had never wanted to be a murderer.

They were under no illusion they were strong, especially not strong enough to resist the lure of a motive so tempting, so generous—one life for three, simple enough. Mike TV would never agree to it, wouldn’t even buy his own freedom with blood on someone else’s hands, but Sumiko Ihara was another story. Three notes, a victim, and any choice of weapon the two of them wanted. That’s all it took.

That’s how Kaitaro found themselves at midnight hitting the elevator button and heading up with one hand stuffed into their pocket and holding a sharpened pair of sewing scissors, just in case one of the monsters that went bump in the dark happened upon them on their journey. 

How strange of Sumiko, to not only push their meeting time to a day earlier but also to summon them out here instead of going directly to their room—of course, subtlety with notes was a safer plan so no one would put clues together in the bloody aftermath but still—and something seemed off. Alright, her note has responded to their invitation to kill. Alright. A sigh, a nervous swallow, and they pushed open the doors to the prep room with trembling hands.