Harvey Finevoice (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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supergaybabyjail2015-08-16 02:00 am
milliondollarpipes) wrote in supergaybabyjail2015-08-16 02:00 am
THE MASTERMIND AU MEME
THE MASTERMIND AU
AMBIDEX EDITION
With Round 3 now over, it's about time we had the mastermind meme!
To those who aren't familiar, this is essentially an AU where your character is the one responsible for Round 3's Mutual Killing Game, and all of the carnage that came with it, from the kidnapping to the motives to the trials to the executions! And now, they have chosen to reveal themselves before the remaining members of their class at the final trial!
As such, you are free to play around with this as much as you would like; did your character make a contract with Kyuubey, or did your character put everyone in the Killing Game for a different reason? What is your character's motivation for bringing despair? What do they intend to get out of this seemingly senseless killing? And what does the rest of the class have to do to stop the madness and go home?
There's probably going to be quite a bit of AUing from your character's original canon happening here to make them into the best harbingers of despair they can be, so feel free to go as nuts with it as you want to! And, of course, feel free to tag others with your character's reaction to their classmate's big reveal; it doesn't matter whether or not your character made it to endgame, have fun and mix up the survivor pool as much as you'd like!
Oh, and feel free to describe your character's sweet new Monobear-themed duds, too!!
Original meme text borrowed and modified from loveisanopendoor!
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The survivors have figured out that the Mastermind is not an outside member, but instead one of them, one of the remaining, and it was only a matter of time until they narrowed it down. What a surprise, because she even investigated with them, fearful and disgusted at notebooks of experiments on humans and non-humans alike, worried about information kept on loved ones -- hopeful, at the prospect of reviving everyone...
Until she's called out. Until it shifts from Monobear to Allison Underhill, she's there with the rest of them...not exactly helping, but not hindering either. Monobear goes eerily still.] Well then. I guess the jig's up, upupupu~
[And he slumps over, into a pool of darkness. At the same time, Allie's cute backpack opens up on its own, and a dark cloak- it crawls from it, wrapping itself around her entirely, as if it were alive. Her eyes take on a yellow glow, and notably...all expression wipes from her face, the instant the cloak touches her body. Slowly, she rises into the air, floating, as the whole court room is plunged into absolute darkness. Thankfully, the survivors will be able to see, shortly after...but less remains, so it seems. An almost oppressive black abyss licks at their feet, rises around them, as if sentient and waiting, oh just waiting.
The cloak Allie wears seems to have stretched out all around her. The ends...cannot be seen. Her hairclips have taken on a more...Monobear-appropriate theme, but besides that, there's no white on her, to represent the monochrome scheme. Just black...and with glimpses of this thing beneath the cloak. Allie looks down at the survivors, surveying them.]
All of my dear friends. [...Even though there is very little inflection in those words, they sounds downright mechanical, honestly.] I'm so proud you got this far.
[Slowly, she tilts her head to the side, a ghost of a smile passing over her lips.]
Will you continue to impress me? Go on. My wonderful, twisted students.
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[Harvey's first reaction to stare in horror at her, across the empty podiums between them, but now he seems to have recovered his composure. It's not Allie. It's not. He knows a possession when he sees one, and that cloak thing ain't normal. Focus on that - they'll save Allie too, and then they'll all get out of here together.]
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They find themselves in a large dark room. It’s cold here, and each footstep they take echoes with a metallic clang. The low, constant hum of unfamiliar machinery drones on beneath everything. Before them there's a vast wall of glass, which provides a dazzling view of unfamiliar stars shining in the utter blackness of space.
In the center of the room is a familiar arrangement of podiums, all plain black with no death portraits. Where Monobear would normally sit, there's only darkness, punctuated by a tiny orange glow of flame.
The Mastermind exhales a slow plume of smoke as the class is beamed in, ignoring any questions or accusations hurled up at him. Then, as everyone reaches their place, he snaps his fingers to raise the lights. An old performer knows how to make an entrance.
Harvey sits alone on an empty stage, lounging in what looks like a captain’s chair. His outfit is the same as it ever was, sharp and pressed and with a new fedora to replace the one left behind on the stairs. He’s got too much class to deck himself out in some silly bear costume. It’s not like his color scheme didn’t fit already – he’s always been a fan of black and white and red. Only his face is different; where he was once warm and even fatherly, he now looks out over them with a hard and cold composure.]
You all finally made it. All the way here. [He stands and paces to the edge of the stage, cigarette held loosely between two fingers as he stares down at them all, weighing each in turn. His shadow stretches out long behind him, despite the bright lights beaming down from above.] You did good. But don’t get cocky.
This ain’t finished yet.
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Hey. If--if you're alive, then. Then why the fuck is anyone else dead?
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And here he is, proof that Duster was lied to again. He tosses the hat on the podium. He held onto it ever since they found his body - though the question whether it really was him comes up - in hopes that he could remember the father figure he never knew he wanted. ]
Why did you do all this? [He grips onto the sides of the podium, glaring at Harvey. He avoids looking into his eyes.] Cooking for us, teaching me about music, making us trust you...you were trying to throw suspicion off you!
[He bites his lip to stop himself from crying.]
And I fell for it. I thought you'd never hurt us. Why.
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[She stares. Of all the people. Of all the people.
She'd looked up to him. Cried when he died. And now...now...
When they'd deduced the Mastermind's identity, she hadn't wanted to believe it.
But she can't deny this. Not now.]
You?
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That's a name that came up a lot during the trial; something about a group of students that worked under Junko... But there's another story, about a second set of SHSL Despair, one made from people from different worlds, dimensions, universes- a group that made their way across the multiverse with something named Giratina and spread absolute chaos wherever they went.
Whatever that's about, people inevitably put two and two together- there was just too much that was wrong about Silver's death, about not getting a proper look at the body, hints and pieces of things pointing to Pokémon, the courtroom being very obviously colored like a Pokéball... And that's fine.
It's not as if Silver wanted to hide any longer anyway.
Silver doesn't emerge by any normal means; instead, reality rips itself open in front of the remaining survivors, and Silver walks out of this tear in reality that leads to a strange distorted reality beyond wherever they are now. He's not alone, either; Giratina follows him out and stares at the group, seething in hatred, before ducking straight into Silver's shadow.
He emerges standing tall, secure, relaxed, well kept, far better kept than he's been through his entire stay in the hotel. The difference is immediate before he even opens his eyes. And when he does finally open them, his eyes look exactly like the strange creature from before; bright red pupils contrast pitch black sclera, and despite his otherwise calm disposition, his eyes are absolutely furious and full of burning hatred.]
It's about time you guys figured it out.
[Whether Giratina or Silver is speaking is up for debate.]
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But then Silver appears with some terrifying-looking thing that's probably a Pokémon, and Ryuunosuke can only watch in silence.]
...What... Why...
[Give him a moment, it's kind of hard to accept that this is actually happening.]
But you-- You died, you... you kept those stupid secrets from being released and...
[This can't be happening.]
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It had taken them a while to work out what he was, why he had done it, why this person they had all loved and trusted had stabbed all of them in the back and at least one of them in the front; he hadn't gone down repentant. He'd gone down laughing, taunting them all, screaming about dinner theatre, and it was only well after his execution (pinned down at the limbs and devoured on stage by some sort of monstrous thing, a centipede that looked like it'd crawled out of Kafka's worst nightmares, and mercifully the lights had gone black before he'd died but his screams had been audible for long after until they had come to a sudden, choking stop) that the letters had been discovered.
The letters hadn't been lucid, but they'd been readable enough; they weren't apologies, but they were an explanation. Of how he couldn't hold out any longer, of how he was afraid to die.
And perhaps most importantly, he'd left them with information. Valuable information about the layout of the hotel, and things he'd tricked out of Monobear, because the other students weren't the only ones that he was capable of conning.
But of course, that was entirely too good to be true; once his name came up in the trial as a possibility, it hadn't been long before everything else seemed to fall into place, everything else suddenly seemed to make sense. And the execution...well, they had seen him pinned down and injured but he was able to heal himself, wasn't he, and perhaps most damning, there was also the problem of "no body, no death" – no one had actually seen him die.
And once he's called out for his crimes, a set of doors opens behind Monobear's pedestal, leading to a hallway just beyond; it's bare, inelegant, made of stone and more importantly it's long, it's narrow and dark and foreboding, all the better to ensure that the room it opens up into stands in stark contrast to it.
It looks to be a banquet hall, high-ceilinged and brightly lit by the chandeliers that hang overhead; the podium circle has been replaced by a table, long and narrow and with more than enough space to seat twenty.
And all twenty seats are going to be occupied; the trial circle's order has been discarded in favor of eleven occupied seats at the near end, more of those faceless mannequins from the fifth floor decked out in the clothing and accessories of those who have gone before. In place of food, they have flowers laid across their place settings; dark crimson roses, real ones, not the ribbon flowers that had been laid around the hotel from time to time. Eight chairs stand empty, however, all clustered around the head of the table for ease of discussion; their arrangements are different, irises and amaranthus both together.
Seated at the head of the table is your host himself; the usual loud patterns and bright colors are gone, replaced with a black suit and a black shirt beneath it, the white tie lying in sharp contrast to both. He's got asphodel pinned to his lapel; the petals are white, streaked with red, in adhering to the theme.
His own place setting is empty, but even so, it's obvious that he's no longer the starved-out wreck that he was in the hotel; his color is good and he looks like he's getting close to being back up to fighting weight, and his eyes are very, very bright – his kakugan are active, bright red on black. He's got a wineglass with him that he's toying with between his fingers, but the fluid inside...well, judging from the bright magenta coloration, it's not exactly wine.]
Ahhh, bonsoir, all of you – it's so good to see you again.
[He smiles; it's not a nice expression.]
Let's have one last talk, shall we? As your best friend, I insist.
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Even now, it's unbearably difficult to breathe, let alone move around, yet that didn't stop Silver from screaming at absolutely everyone that there's no way Tsukiyama did all of this until he couldn't do anything but curl over and try not to pass out while everyone else put the pieces together without him.
And then Tsukiyama comes out in his full glory, looking healthy again, looking like he can take on anything.
Silver gradually shifts his way over to his... Seat, at this dinner table or whatever the hell this is, and-]
It's good to see you too.
[He has no idea whether Tsukiyama means what he's saying. He doesn't know what to think anymore. He'd be so much happier turning off his thoughts and feelings and everything that's happening around him and just disappearing instead of facing anything resembling reality.
Despite all of that, he does know that he's genuinely, sincerely glad to see him again, even if it's here, and like this, and- he's not dying anymore, he's...
...Why does it have to be like this? Why? Why...?]
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He's wearing Tsukiyama's clothes again - the ridiculous sweater and the lie pants. Initially it looked like things were going to go the same way as the last trial, where Ryuunosuke contributed nothing useful and spent the majority of the time silent. Once the questioning turns to the topic of Tsukiyama as the mastermind, Ryuunosuke fights. He's vicious, wild, and it's honestly a damn good thing weapons aren't allowed in the courtroom or he probably would have stabbed someone by now. But like always his mood shifts entirely too easily and the fight leaves him, allowing them to say what they want and open the passageway to the next portion of the trial.
The others enter first and he can hear them talking, but Ryuunosuke isn't registering words. He doesn't even look around the room when he enters, instead he can only find himself staring at Tsukiyama. Ryuunosuke should be feeling something, he knows that, but he feels nothing.
He passes by the mannequins without a glance and instead he moves to take the seat at Tsukiyama's right. Ryuunosuke listens to Tsukiyama and while he certainly sees and understands what's happening, things aren't registering. Tsukiyama is dead. He was killed and eaten by some hideous monster and all they were left with were his screams, until those cut out and--
Ryuunosuke hasn't been sleeping. He hasn't been eating much either and those are both obvious. He's been a goddamn wreck and he's honestly not sure how he made it to this point. He should have died; he would have been an easy target. He wouldn't have fought any. Maybe he should have ended things after Tsukiyama's trial.
But he's here now. The cold, dead look is back in his eyes but when he stares at Tsukiyama there's nothing there. No pain, no anger, no resentment; nothing.]
You're dead. We saw you die.
[The words are just as flat and emotionless as his expression.]
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But more and more and more, it seems far too likely. By the time they enter his dining hall, Allie's in tears. Angry, devastated tears, like his trial, all over again...except even worse. This isn't right, why isn't he in his ridiculous clothes, this isn't right he said he wouldn't--]
Don't say that.
[Before she even realizes it, she's speaking, voice heavy and wet.
After everything, she barely has the energy to be angry.]
Don't- don't call yourself that.
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[...maybe he should feel intimidated or... something, but a lot of his reactions have been dulled by the passing weeks. It certainly isn't confidence that gives him the ability to sass the Mastermind, at the very least... it's just that he's tired and he's stopped caring about self-preservation.
...he looks at the chair set out for him, kind of violently shoves it aside because this chair is an eyesore this chair this chair this chair this chair, and wheels himself over to his place.]
At least at seems as though you've finally learned to dress yourself while you were playing dead. Wonders really never cease.
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When you return to the courtroom after the final investigation, you'll notice that the center where the podiums usually are is completely gone. Instead there's a winding set of stairs leading further down into the hotel. It's incredibly dark down there, so be careful!
At the bottom of the stairs is another courtroom, this one is smaller than the others, with only eight podiums arranged in a circle. The courtroom itself is pretty hard to see considering just how dark it is down here, but maybe you should have expected that.
After all, the Super High School Level Sculptor can't work in broad daylight, now can he?
The information you've gathered has pointed all over the place. There are plenty of mentions of Super High School Level Despair and magic, but there's strangely nothing too concrete to pinpoint a mastermind. How you got here seems to be "fucking magic", what happened seems to be "brain surgery or also fucking magic", but the question you probably haven't found an answer to is "who the actual fuck was responsible for this bullshit". Don't worry though, your mastermind has never been a patient person. It's not like you'll have to wait long for the reveal.]
GREATEST COOL!!
[Light pours in from above (somehow) and shines down on the mastermind, sitting with his legs crossed in a throne. The throne is entirely too elegant and ornate for someone like Ryuunosuke, but it's not like he'll be sitting for long. He springs up out of it and approaches. He's on a balcony overlooking the courtroom and he leans over the railing to look down at the survivors.]
I can't believe you guys made it this far! Well done!
[Three Monobears take the throne behind Ryuunosuke - two of them are sporting leopard print instead of the usual white and black coloring and the third is a perfectly normal Monobear. Ryuunosuke spreads his arms, eyes alight with something that's probably joy, but it's kind of hard to tell with him.]
To make it this far... this is truly a magnificent sight to behold! But! We're just getting started!
[His outfit is clearly based on the one he showed up in. He's wearing a white t-shirt underneath a black jacket and his skinny jeans are white on one leg and black on the other. The chains at his hip are red and he's wearing several red rings and red earrings. The only thing that hasn't changed at all are his boots, which are still the usual leopard print ones because of course they are.
Ryuunosuke Uryuu should have died weeks ago. He should have been executed after a particularly gruesome murder that explained exactly why he'd been given the title of Super High School Level Sculptor. He'd spent his MTB screaming about how glorious death is and how experiencing it is the GREATEST COOL and there was also some talk about theology that made literally no sense, but in the end he was executed, just like the others. It involved entirely too many injuries, too much blood, and shrieking laughter, but there was a discretion shot towards the end before his laughter finally stopped.
Needless to say, while it might not be possible for this asshole to still be alive, it's entirely believable that he's still fucking things up with his presence.]
How does our story end? Do you surrender to despair? Do you continue to hold onto hope? Let's put on a show worthy of our beloved creator! Let's show Him the GREATEST COOL!!
[He fistpumps and all three Monobears copy the motion, each one shouting GREATEST COOL in response. Their English is also godawful. Ryuunosuke snaps his fingers and the lights in the courtroom flicker on, bathing the entire room in a weird pinkish-purple glow. Oh, you might notice that there's also a lot of magenta on the floor. It looks like the podiums are arranged inside a giant blood circle, how fun!]
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[Haruka seethes behind her podium. The screams and laughter from Ryuunosuke's trial are echoing in her head as it is; her fingernails dig into her palms.]
That's what all this is about? Your locking us in here, putting us through this torture and cheating at your own game, that was all to make some god happy?
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Where Monaka had a library, though, there is instead a second media room, though this one has clearly only been furnished for one to enjoy. Shelves of homemade DVDs line the walls, but a set of twenty have been pulled out; pulled out and cracked, each lying in two neatly-snapped halves, each bearing the name of a student trapped here, living or dead.
Significant, then, maybe, that the clip left playing on loop on the high-def projector is of no one they can recognize. The situation is familiar, though: it's an execution, and the pajamas the dark-haired boy wears are the same vivid shade of blue that was so important in the hotel's very first trial.
And where there was an operating gallery, in another universe, there are simply four walls, a ceiling, and floor, all covered from seam to seam in multi-colored text, frantically scrawled, hardly any of it making coherent sense save BUT I DON'T WANT TO DIE i dont want you to die 1M 4FR41D TO NOT 3X1ST
arent you?
It shouldn't take too long, once reinstated in the courtroom, for the survivors to reach the obvious conclusion.
Dave sighs, and the breath seems to take physical shape in the suddenly quiet room. An invisible, but palpable energy that leaves him with the last of his fight.]
Kind of took you long enough.
[Suddenly, he isn't there at all, and the impenetrable blackness bounding the courtroom shatters like glass on impact. The cracks glow in a kaleidoscope of color, pulsing with terrific energy, but it's in the thick panes of darkness that remain that the real horror lies: writhing tentacles, gnashing beaks, mouths open in screams.
And the faces of their dead. The dreamers bear witness, too, and though they cannot make a sound, their eyes know terror. Horror. They press their hands against the barrier but they cannot get out. Can't be reached.
Dave reappears before the throne with both hands on the pommel of an ornate sword. As he speaks, color seems to lift from his skin. He is white, dead white, and then grey--and the cherry red evaporates from his clothes until Time's gear is split black and white on charcoal, slashed through only with a jagged, diagonal rip of crimson like Monobear's eye.
He isn't wearing his cape, but shadow drips from his shoulders like a cowl, writhing and wraithlike as if stirred by a fey wind.
Bun Hutchinson hops over to Dave's feet, and both his eyes are red, now. The horrorterrors continue to undulate in the shattered space around them, whispering unknowable things at the edges of every mind. Dave doesn't sit.]
All that shit you decided about time travel and alternate dimensions and coming back from the dead, and not a single one of you thought to look at the guy practiced in all of them.
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this is why i don't phonetag
Phonetagging is hard and those of us who do it wish we didn't
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Just like she's emerging from the back now, with her ahoge combed down and her hair in those Monobear-themed ponytail holders, weeks after they thought they'd seen her alive but knew she'd been killed right in front of them because repairing a broken door was property damage, wasn't it?]
No one came to rescue me. No one even thought to try, did they? So why is it that you think you deserve anyone coming to save you!?
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He'd been there. He'd warned her not to mess with the door - why didn't he do more? He could've grabbed her, dragged her back to the room, anything! Maybe she'dve been angry, but at least she'd have been alive.
So when she asks, the answer that springs to mind is I don't. But he looks to the others, and the words die on his lips. It's all or nothing now. He may not deserve to be saved after all the people he's failed, but if he goes down here he knows he's gonna be dragging everyone else down along with him. They don't deserve that.]
...why'd you bring us all here?
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Clearly.
But little by little, the investigations into the depths of the hotel begin turning up things that don't make sense — and moreover, things that may begin to ring a little too familiar, for those who were paying attention. The operating theater, the documentation that always seemed to fuse elements of the occult with standardized medical practices. Charts of cell viability. Clones. Academic papers recounting the intricate process of summoning the dead back to life. And again and again, two characteristics repeated — the name DELILAH, and tarot motifs.
With evidence like that, there's really only one person the mastermind could be, now is there.
When she steps out into the trial chamber, perfectly laced up as always in a black dress with white trim and lace, there's fanfare and theatrics from the assembled cosplaying Monobears — an entrance fit for a queen.
And oddly enough, she barely seems to notice it at all, her expression hovering on the verge of blank, conveying nothing so much as weariness and perhaps even a touch of impatience.]
We made an admirable go of it this time, didn't we, everyone...?
[She takes her seat on Monobear's throne, one elbow finding its way to the armrest to support her as she props her head on her hand, surveying the survivors tiredly.]
Very well, then. Let's see if this time, you've finally worked out a proper reasoning for why it isn't simply wiser all around to hurt others first, before they can ever hurt you.
[EXAM: START.]
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[Silver had left himself raw and exposed to Meridiana. He cared about her, he was open with her, and then she died and now she's here, and--
And now it's time to seal away any feelings he has on the matter for as long as he can hold out. Really, he'd much prefer to get angry, but... Well, it's not exactly easy for him to scream and shout with his ribs like this.]
It isn't wiser to hurt others first... Maybe that's true, maybe it isn't. But isn't that exactly what you're doing?
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So who likes horses? TW: body horror
[Rufioh had died at the very beginning of the game, and because of that not many had come to know him. Executed due to killing the one was probably the most annoying out of the group he had hand selected. But really that was how it had been planned from the start. It's kind of crazy like that. When you have an eternity of time on your hands to contemplate the twists and turns that would come of such a game it was fairly easy to estimate all the various outcomes that would form through it. He was expecting to be the least obvious suspect, he was expecting to none the less be found out by those few remaining survivors. And he was expecting the inevitable outcome that would form because of it.
The possible outcome being the final release of his own double death. The end of the despair that had embraced and consumed him for all of forever.]
Well not really, but I can at least say I am surprised it was you guys out of all of them. Who would have guessed you'd make it to the end! Maybe I'll get you all a sugoi and f'ck grand prize as a symbol for your accomplishment! A daifuku of each of your favorite classmates to remember them by.
[Was anyone really paying any attention to what he was saying? Probably not. They were probably more confused by his apperance when he had revealed himself. His tri-hawk now sporting a shade or white among the black and red it already was, seeming like no big deal to the rest of his hulking mechanical body. The gears of his equine chassis turning and emitting steam with each movement he made. The metal plates of his body split down the middle, one side black, the other white. The little splatter of red that decorated his mane off putting the rest of him.]
But really, are you sure you want to leave? There's still one more mystery left to go and you haven't solved it yet. And maybe once you find it out you may just realize it's better off here you know? Heck, maybe all your dead friends might have it better than the rest of us right?
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As the students investigated the hidden rooms, they find one more piece of evidence: Kumasin, the secret despair-inducing ingredient of the gummy bears that lead to Duster's execution, is extracted from a particular species of mushroom found only on Tanetane Island. When ingested in large doses, victims suffer from strong hallucinations based off of their deepest fears and regrets. The perfect food for a despair game.
Tanetane Island: a small isle located a few miles form Tazmily.
Everything point to one person.
The lights go out in the courtroom. For ten nerve-wracking seconds, darkness envelopes the survivors. A blinding spotlight beams above each of them, then a series of bright, colorful bulbs light up in order, leading from the podiums towards Monobear's throne. Only they continue past where the throne use to be until they reach a stage.
The entire thing is surrounds by Vegas-esque displays when it lights up. Two Monobears run into the yellow stage as a new symbol appears in the background: a stylized pig snout. Duster himself walks on, waving cheerfully at the students while wearing an white-and-black suit with a red scar-shaped spot over his heart.]
Congratulations! Looks like you won the first part of the final round! [That eerie smile never leaves his face as he talks.] I was getting tired of the bear theme, honestly.
[The throne emerges from a hole in the stage, Duster relaxes into it. He kicks up his left leg and leans on his elbow, smirking at the courtroom.]
But if it's all for His Highness, I think dealing you guys was worth the eight weeks. All that hope, believing you could win just by believing in yourselves, it was sickening to watch! [Tsk. He closes his eyes and frowns, but the wide-eyed smile returns.] Now about about the next round of this game?
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But now he's here. Harvey grips the sides of his podium tightly, refusing to look Duster in the eyes. It was all just a game to him, wasn't it...?]
Shut that down. You turn off those lights and talk to us like human beings.
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[Maya's hand comes up to play with her hair, long, black, and loose this time-- braided at her head.]
This was getting so tiring. Do you know how annoying that voice is to do? Do you understand how annoying it is to be her?
[Her hand falls to the throne's arm, and she surveys Maya's classmates, one brow raising over her bemused eyes.]
You've got one thing wrong, though. My name isn't Maya Fey-- no, she's just the idiot they conned to bring me back. And it's a good thing-- Feys only get in the way.
My name is Dahlia Hawthorne. And I'm not interested in your hope or your despair... I'm not interested in letting you free. As long as I'm here, I get my money.
I get my revenge.
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oh no.
she's hot.]
...wait, hang on, how are you even getting a payout from this? Did you raid all of our wallets?!?
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So... there was the matter of the Holy Grail War --- more than one, actually, and the basement seemed to be filled with research notes on the subject. There's a lot of nigh-impenetrable magic jargon, but it's possible to get the gist of things. There was supposed to be an artifact that contained immeasurable magical power that could theoretically be used to grant any wish... but something had tainted it. Some poor fool had summoned Angra Mainyu, the incarnation of all the evils of the world, into a previous war, and things had gone a bit pear-shaped from there. There's also a fair bit of information about things like Second Magic, which seems to involve world hopping, and memory altering magic... HMMM...
And then, there were notes on what seemed to be an entirely different magic system altogether... one that granted immeasurable magical power in exchange for a wish. The notes on this system seemed a bit less certain, as though the writer didn't have quite as good a grasp on the systems involved, but it seemed to involve soul gems and contracts and weird cat things with ears coming out of their ears and a whole heck of a lot of despair.
...well, there's only one person versed enough in the former sort of magical jargon here, as anyone who's read his book may surmise, so when the Mastermind is... well... reasonably quickly named, shit proceeds to get absurd.
For starters, the walls begin bleeding some horrendous substance that looks like blood mixed with ichor, which is never a good sign. Fortunately, it seems as though a moat of sorts has opened up around the outer rim of the courtroom, so none of that seems to be spreading around anyone's feet... yet, anyway. There doesn't seem to be any end to the substance dripping down the walls... also, there seems to be a fountain emerging from the center of the floor, between the students' podiums. It's a very classically sculpted, fairly realistic-looking black and white bear holding a blackened cup that's spewing... ah, yes, more of that gross muddy stuff.
And now, where Monobear usually is... well, that sure is someone who should've been dead after the third execution, isn't it? There is a Monobear present, albeit one made out of some sort of strange, silvery substance, but the center of attraction seems to be Kayneth... but he looks a bit different. His hair's gone from blond to white, his eyes from blue to red, and there are some strange red veins snaking their way up his throat and onto the lower bits of his face. His attire's a bit different as well, from solid blue to black vertically striped with blue... and at his neck is some kind of brooch set with a jewel that seems to glow with darkness, as if such a thing was possible.
He stands up from the chair he was lounging in and heads to the edge of his little platform to address the survivors.]
You know, I never really would have guessed that you would have accomplished this without all of you falling in on each other eventually... but I can't say I'm not impressed by the results.
I really do have to wonder how much you can withstand before you break, of course, but I'm sure it'll produce an intriguing end result.
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Your outfit is bad and you should feel bad.
[Dave sort of looks like he's about ready to climb up on top of his podium to get away from the icky muddy shit that isn't even anywhere near him yet, but for now, he stays where he is.]
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[ One would never expect Wario to be subtle, but up until now, who would ever suspect him? He had died first - they'd all seen the body. Even then, he had never seemed too bright in the first place. But as soon as that laugh booms through the darkened courtroom, the conclusion is undeniable.
The lights flicker on, and that egotism finally shows itself. Wario's face is plastered onto just about it every surface in the room, as well as assorted piles of currency that would make Scrooge McDuck blush. But not just gold coins - money and treasure from all their worlds, all their prized possessions...all of it stolen.
The place lights up like a 70s disco, flashing yellow and purple lights. Music blasts throughout the room as he appears - descending from a platform in the ceiling with a large boombox held over his shoulder. He dresses himself in a black and white variant of his own outfit - with a Monobear face where the "W" on his face once was. He lets out a snort once the platform makes it to the middle of the room, surveying his students with twisted glee. ]
Das right! It was-a me, Wario! [ WAHAHAHAHA! ...there's an awkward pause, before he coughs. ] No thanks to-a dis loser.
[ Wario jabs his thumb over to a conspicuous-looking curtain in the corner, which opens to reveal a lanky-looking gentleman in similar Monobear garb. He sits at a control panel in front of dozens of monitors - all containing views of the hotel. He sneers when Wario calls to him, raising his arms in exaggerated frustration. ]
Whaddya talkin' about, fatso? Waluigi controlled de bear - dat was all de work!
Shut up, loser! It was all me!
[ The two start to bicker - and won't stop until they're interrupted. ]
(OOC: Replies will also come from
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Would you two SHUT THE HELL UP?
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[She's practiced so much; she knows her Mayor would be proud. After all, with his assignment, she couldn't fail him. Gosh, she had been expecting the candidates to be a little smarter, but she supposed after eight weeks of limiting where they could go, giving them motives, having them fight against each other, making them all think buddy buddy, it's hard to really think, but at least they got this far.]
[There's a jingling when the lights go out, but no need to guess where it's going and who it might be. However, when the lights return, Isabelle has made a wardrobe change from her usual secretary uniform to something more monochrome. She sits with Monobear on the throne observing the podiums and the survivors. It's not only her position that's changed, but the courtroom too.]
[It remains dim and fairly reserved decor, but what is there is probably unexpected. Like the dioramas on the fifth floor, there are now other dioramas here, but at each dead person's podium. It must be nice to have their company again, and she tried even harder on these ones to look like the actual people. With a big smile, she claps.]
I knew you guys would eventually pull through if you worked together, and I was able to witness it all first-hand! Well, we better not keep the Mayor waiting! It's time for the real part of the Graduation Exam to begin - how exciting!
[She's smiling as she usually does, but there's definitely something a little different about her eyes as she looks around. It's a wonder what she's actually seen.]
[OOC: Warning now for Aika Village.]
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[But there was no way. It simply couldn't be her-- Could it> Sure all the clues added up and as she revealed herself it felt so genuine, but the pure shock from the entire ordeal simply left the poor alien weeaboo standing there with his moth gaped in utter shock and horror.]
But why!? What reason would you have to do this!? To drag us all here had have us-- To force our friends to kill?
[It simply had to be a good reason, right? Why else would she put in so much effort?]
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It's only once she's dead that things start to get strange.
The week following Kureha's death, the kitchen overflows with cured bear meat. It seems like a cruel joke of Monobear's at first, a way to poke fun at the absence of their friend, and the meat remains a staple of the kitchen restocks until the very end.
When the museum on the final floor opens, there's a memorial dedicated to a girl none of them have ever seen before -- the plaque names the bright eyed and cheerful looking girl as "Lulu Yurigasaki" and a tragic, tragic victim of the Invisible Storm. Her memorial overflows with fresh lilies and set in front of the picture is a pot of honey in the shape a bear's head -- those who won it from the prize machine will recognize it as a Promise Kiss.
During that last frantic investigation, it becomes perhaps too clear who must be behind this -- lillies, lillies everywhere, photos of Lulu with a dark haired girl identified as Ginko Yurishiro, and rage-filled condemnations of the herd and the Storm for daring to hurt these girls and take them away.
When the survivors finally turn on Monobear, there's no warbling upupupu -- instead the bear slumps and a familiar voice rings out from its throne. ]
Gaaaoooo! I was waiting and waiting for you all to get here! Welcome to Severance Court!
[ Monobear burst into a cloud of lily petals that scatter, briefly obscuring the bear and its throne from view. The courtroom is plunged into darkness, with a single spotlight illuminating each survivor in turn and a brief examination of their surroundings will show the courtroom is quite different now.
At the head of the room, a final spotlight illuminates the headmaster's throne -- at the floor sit a trio of uniformly dressed Monobears who all upupu in unison.
And sitting at Monobear's throne, with a hefty gavel in hand is Kureha Tsubaki, the gentle blues of her dress swapped out for crisp monochrome and the moon charm at her throat gone with Monobear's grinning mug in place. She beams and slams her gavel down once, just a touch harder than she really needs to. ]
Court is now in session! Gao gyaaaaaaao!
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[Haruka forces the word out. She grabs the sides of her head and steps back.]
No, no! This doesn't make any sense! Why would you do this!?
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