[The survivors gather in the elevator one last time, but they won’t be going up or down. Instead the world simply fades out as each of them disappears into a beam of light, teleported from the familiar surroundings of the Hotel to somewhere entirely new.
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.
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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.