The following is a Danganronpa Fanfiction using English character names. If you have trouble inserting yourself into the atmosphere of a Danganronpa without Japanese names, this story may not be for you.
This Fanganronpa features a main character who is likely not agreeable at times. His actions are his own, and this author does not condone every choice he makes. This story will involve many high-stress and high-risk choices that will shake the morals of several of the characters featured.
This Fanganronpa features extreme manipulation, murder, execution, backstabbing, front stabbing, questionable morals, questionable mental health, and attempted suicide. Please consider this before deciding to read.
Also, if you are reading this, that means that most of this Fanganronpa has already been written (Unless you are a beta reader or otherwise). I will likely update every week to give any potential readers a chance to let certain scenes sink in and to let people theorize. Do not worry about this story suddenly stopping or going on hiatus, because I will have most of it written.
Finally, please acknowledge that I have only mediocre writing skills. I had an idea, and I will do my best to write out this idea as well as I can, but constructive criticism is very welcome. There are several things I will be doing different from the usual Fanganronpa, especially after the first arc, and some help with making sure I've nailed the concept down would be appreciated. This story will have less focus on an overall plot, and more focus on the situations and characters that come from the framework of the plot.
Thank you for your time!
Deep underground, several individuals worked for their country. They worked for what they believed in, making the strangest of contraptions using the wildest of devices, all without question. They were well aware that several of the things they were implementing were dangerous, and a few seemed to be straight-up murderous… But they didn't ask questions.
Why would they? They were just doing their jobs. They had families to come back to. If any one of them had a moral problem with this, they kept their mouth shut out of fear of being fired and forced to never speak of this again, rendering their work meaningless.
And, besides, the rumors going around seemed to suggest that this was all for some greater good. There was a reason for this, they just couldn't figure out what that could possibly be…
Ah well. Soon enough, they were brought up, out of their creation, and they were given hefty payments. Happy and uncaring, the individuals who worked so hard for what others believed in had left.
Tyson Jin was proud of what he was. He wouldn't call himself an 'Ultimate' of all things, but he knew he was one of the best in what he did. Back then, he didn't have such confidence, but now that he was in the position he was… He felt on top of the world.
Tyson grew up in a household as the awkward middle child who nobody paid much attention to. He had few friends, and liked to keep to himself. He wasn't exceptional at academics, nor was he a star athlete. No, what Tyson was good at… Was games.
Chess, checkers, online war games, Tyson exceeded at them all. He never bothered to make a show of it, so it wasn't anything his family or himself cared much about. The boy just happened to be good at these games, but there seemingly wasn't much else to that…
That changed when he was fourteen. His favorite building in the whole town, the library, was burning down. The fire department was already busy trying to help several other homes that had caught fire, and there were few that were willing to help the poor, old library. Tyson stood and watched for some time, but, a sick feeling lingered in his gut, a feeling that he should jump to action, for if he didn't, something horrible would happen…
And so, he did. He was as commanding as a fourteen year old boy could be, picking out adults who would help him. At first, he was ignored. Who would listen to the screaming teen, after all?...
So Tyson told a lie.
"Someone's in that library! They're going to die if we don't do anything!"
Suddenly, he caught the attention of these adults. Tyson took action. He quickly mapped out safe routes around the library that people could take, allowing them to check inside and see if there was anyone in there. He passed out his old walkie-talkies, getting everyone on the same frequency so he could monitor and call out the fire's growth and behavior.
It was a miracle for Tyson. People were listening to him. He gave out the objectives and shouted out orders, and his troops carried them out. He knew he was running on a high, an unrealistic position of power that would only be granted to him in this moment, this fleeting moment… But somewhere deep inside, there was a part of him that took to this as though it was a necessity. There could have been someone in that library! Tyson was saving their life!
And there was someone in that library. Tyson heard the call out. The boy stood, stunned. There was an old man on the second floor. He needed help. He needed saving.
His lie had become the truth. Tyson was secretly glad it had. He was happy that someone was suffering inside of that burning library. If there was nobody there, then nobody would take him seriously like this ever again.
But with a grin on his face, Tyson knew, now, that this would be the moment in his life that defined him. He could make something of himself! He would become much more than the stupid middle child of a stupid family in a stupid little town. He would become a hero.
So he shouted the orders into his device.
He pointed out landmarks, guided his troops to the correct positions. It was like playing a game of chess against nature itself! The fire made moves to block Tyson's plans, and the boy made moves to counter those harsh obstacles. With each minute, the fire roared brighter, and with each minute, Tyson grew stronger. The first floor was coated in flames, but there were routes to be taken from the outside. The emergency fire escape on the second floor was burned down? Then they would have to make one of their own!
People would come to describe this moment as the strangest miracle the town had ever witnessed. A little kid, shouting orders at adults, getting them to mobilize and fight the fire on their own, all to save an old man's life… And at the end, they succeeded. Tyson put down his device, grasping at his throat, panting as he realized just how out of air he was from all of that yelling…
Tears spilled from his face. Happy, relieved tears. He grinned to himself as he watched the adults take the old man away from the building. Tyson had just saved a life...
And it felt absolutely amazing.
From then on, Tyson had been declared a prodigy in a field unlike any other. Tyson was a tactician! He could command, he could strategize, he could come up with quick and life-saving plans on the fly. He had been taken to military bases across the country to talk with generals and other high-ranking officials who had to deal with Tyson's little miracle every day. The boy grew to respect and hold these people above all others, believing them to be nothing short of life-saving heroes, people who commanded others so that they could save as many lives as possible.
And so, that was the goal Tyson had took, the goal that would shape his life to come. This goal was the goal he applied to every dangerous situation, a goal that would soon be challenged and warped.
"I must save as many lives as possible."
It didn't matter how it happened. The plan that involved the most people surviving was the best plan. No matter what the situation, no matter what the context, when Tyson was playing a game against someone, the goal was always to save as many of his men's lives as possible. Nobody was a mere pawn to him.
This was his goal. This was his motto. And it is because of Tyson's willpower and his determination to stick to this goal that this story exists.
What would you do to save a life?
Are all lives worth saving?
And when it comes down to it… What would you sacrifice to adhere to your morals?
Some kidnappings are dramatic. Smoke bombs are tossed out, people in dark jackets press dangerous chemicals against the victims' noses, and grand tricks are employed…
Not Tyson's kidnapping. Tyson fell asleep, and, when he woke up, he was simply somewhere else. No awful memory of what could have happened, no sign that he had been injured in any way… Tyson had simply woken up somewhere different.
There were gray walls surrounding him when he woke up. Blank, gray walls that seemed to have no purpose other than to make this room look spectacularly boring. There was a white dresser in the corner of the room, designed to be rectangular, with no interesting features. The bed he was sleeping on was only moderately comfortable, with a stiff mattress and fluffy blankets.
At first, he thought he was dreaming.
"Right… This is a new one…" He blinked, grimacing slightly as he slowly sat up. "I never knew my dreams could be so, uh… Bland…"
He put his right hand through his short, gray hair, letting out a small yawn… He threw his legs over the side of his bed, noticing that he had less energy than usual. Patting himself down, he winced as he felt a sore spot on his left arm.
"Th-the hell…?" Tyson's voice was raspy, as he barely managed to contain his growing paranoia. He had managed to piece together that this was probably not a dream, given how his arm hurt like hell, and he was feeling particularly awake thanks to that.
Tyson looked down at his left arm, examining the spot that hurt. He saw a red spot with a bandage in the center… What the hell? What was that? Gulping, Tyson took a quick glance around the room, noticing a camera in an upper corner… It had a red light on, and it was looking directly towards him…
Okay, yeah, Tyson should probably leave. He had no idea where he was, why he had some sort of wound on his left arm, or what was going on, so the best option might be to just get the hell out. But as he got up, Tyson blinked as he felt something bounce around in his right pocket… Shuffling his hand through his blue jeans, Tyson pulled out some sort of small electronic pad.
Turning it on, the Tactician marveled at the bright screen that shined up at him, showing a menu with a few different tabs…
Ultimates
This tab is for keeping track of the players.
Map
What do you think, dumbass?
Journal
Important events are logged here.
Rules
To be distributed.
Tyson wasn't very pleased with how rude the map tab was being. Furthermore… 'players'? Was Tyson in some kind of reality show game? Huh. He'd always thought about being in one of those; he felt like he could probably win… But, uh, he wasn't sure what kind of reality show took participants against their will…
Shaking his head, the boy decided to stick to his earlier plan: getting the hell out of this room.
There were two doors in this room, and Tyson had just so happened to pick the wrong one; he ended up staring at a white, pristine bathroom. There was a tub/shower hybrid (dubbed 'tubower' in Tyson's mind) where one could use the showerhead and stand in the tub or lay down in the tub and let the faucet take over to take a nice, relaxing bath…
Tyson realized he just spent more time looking at a tub than he did looking at the electronic pad he found in his pants. Right, he should probably leave. This time, going the other way might help.
Deciding to do just that, Tyson scowled at the camera that was following his movements before exiting his room.
Stepping outside of his room, Tyson found himself in a large, white hallway with a red carpet. There were several chandeliers, also white, hanging above him. Tyson also noticed several small, wooden tables that had things like flowers in vases and candles on them. None of the candles were lit, however… Tyson figured that might be for the best. He'd rather explore this place before he had to worry about it getting burned down…
"Oi! Over here!"
Tyson heard a feminine, bossy voice call out to him. Looking towards the end of the hallway, he noticed a tall girl with red, curly hair and a formal dress shirt, complete with frills. She looked like she had somewhere important to be… But she seemed unarmed, and more importantly, she had a smile on her face, a sign of positivity. And man, did Tyson need some positivity right about now.
"H-Hey!" Tyson waved, walking over to her. "Did you bring me here? I, uh, I don't think I'm supposed to be here…"
"Huh. So you're like the rest of us." The tall girl teased with a grin, crossing her arms. "Don't worry! I didn't do anything to you! I woke up in one of these rooms, just like you."
Tyson paused, putting a finger to his chin. "R-Really…? Then do you have something on your left arm, too?"
"Eh?" The girl blinked, raising an eyebrow at Tyson… But shrugged, deciding to check, pulling down her sleeve. Noticing a red mark and bandage there, her eyes widened. "... That's… New."
"I doubt you'd have that if you weren't in the same boat I am…" Tyson quipped with a small smile. "So, I can trust you, right? I'm Tyson Jin."
The girl shrugged, a little impressed. "I'm Rose Major! Glad to see there's someone else with a brain around here." She smiled, crossing her arms. "The other two guys weren't as cooperative. And there's sixteen more to go…"
"Sixteen?" Tyson shook his head. "Last two guys?... Can you catch me up here, Rose?"
Tyson had managed to stay calm with a friendly face around, at least, but he wasn't doing all that hot. He just had to focus on what was doing on here; if he could focus on that, his mind would be too occupied to freak out about the wound on his arm…
Rose nodded. "Right, right, sorry." She put a fist to her chin, thinking to herself, letting her eyes wander as she spoke. "So, I woke up first, I think. I got out of my room and decided to wait here. Two other guys woke up… One of them was in a wheelchair, so me and the other guy had to get him downstairs, but, we kept almost dropping him because-"
"Hold up." Tyson blinked, trying to stop Rose before she rambled on. "What were their names?"
"Oh, right." Rose put her hands on her hips, frowning. "The guy in the wheelchair was… Julian Grendel, I think. And the guy who wouldn't stop banging the walls was Terry Holds."
"Banging the walls?" Tyson repeated, rubbing the back of his head. What the hell…?
"Yeah, he kept hitting his wrist against the wall. Not violently or anything, just… Like he was forcing something back into place." Rose put a finger to her lips, closing her eyes to think. "I think he has some sort of serious nervous tick…"
"Can't blame him for being nervous…" Tyson adjusted his shirt, feeling awkward. "I'd be freaking out right now if I was alone…"
Rose grinned, putting her hands on her hips. "And I'm probably a couple hours away from a mental breakdown, myself~"
"Wait, what-"
"So! You should go downstairs and meet them yourself." Rose smiled, moving her fingers along the frills of her shirt, pretending nothing was wrong. "I'll wait here for anymore sleepyheads."
"... Right…" Tyson coughed, more than a bit nervous. She was… Probably half-kidding, right? He imagined there was some truth to the 'mental breakdown' thing, given the situation they were in, but even still… Well, he would just have to keep an eye on her.
Rose Major… Julian Grendel… Terry Holds…
Ah, wait, how did she know there were sixteen others?
Before leaving Rose, Tyson looked back, noticing numerous doors in the hallway…
One two three four…. Ah. Twenty. She just made the obvious conclusion.
Shrugging to himself, Tyson gave Rose a small wave as he left. The girl smiled, nodding silently to him.
After walking down the stairs, Tyson found himself in a rather large foyer. It didn't have much of anything fancy, besides more red carpet, and a rather large chandelier on the ceiling. Otherwise, there were some paintings of generic-looking rivers, hills, and mountains on the walls…
Oh, and the submachine gun above the double-door exit was pretty generic, too.
Tyson had decided to stay as far away from the submachine gun as possible, staring at it as he walked across the foyer. However, he stopped in his tracks as soon as he heard a whistle come from one of the corners of the room. He blinked, glancing over to a young man in a wheelchair.
Ah, that must be Julian Grendel...
Pushing up his glasses, this new person smirked. "Frightened by the hideous monster in this room, I see...Truthfully, it has stricken my heart as well. That is why I am hiding behind the pillar."
Oh. That made sense. Still, Tyson wasn't sure about this guy. The way he talked sounded creepy as hell… "Uh, right... " The Tactician darted to a pillar across from his new ally, hiding behind it to keep out of the sight of that gun. "Good idea. But wasn't there another guy down here…?"
"Ah, that stranger in a strange land…?" Julian brushed his blonde hair with a comb, shrugging softly. "He left to explore the hallway just through those doors."
The young man pointed to another set of double doors between him and Tyson. They lacked a submachine gun, thankfully.
"Ah…" Tyson coughed, putting a hand on the pillar he was hiding behind, as though to reassure himself that he still had some line of defense against that gun on the other side of the room. "You didn't follow him…?"
Julian smirked, shrugging softly. "I opted to explore this foyer. I've kept to the pillars for… Obvious reasons…"
Tyson nodded. That made sense. "Have you found anything?"
"I've found the most uninspired paintings I've ever witnessed in my life." Julian quipped with a small grin. "Nothing is behind them, by the way. I know, I know, I was disappointed too…" He ended that with a bit of a whine, sighing to himself, resting the side of his head against his hand.
Tyson coughed. "Well, um, if you're done around here, we could check out the hallway…?"
"Why would I follow a man whose name I do not know?" Julian inquired, smirking. "Ah, no, wait, I have it… You look like a Dante to me..."
The Tactician blinked, shaking his head. "Uh, no, my name's Tyson. Tyson Jin."
"Damn!" Julian banged his fist against the pillar next to him, annoyed. Tyson jumped a little bit at this, but kept himself still as the boy continued. "You look nothing like a 'Tyson', though… Ah, no matter. Someone's name has to be 'Dante'..."
"Do you like that name?" Tyson guessed, a nervous smile on his face. Right, this guy didn't seem terribly stable… Maybe he was better off leaving Julian in the foyer…
"I would name my son 'Dante' if I could. Or 'Beowulf'. Imagine being named Beowulf Grendel. Ha! You'd be a walking reference!" Julian snickered, pleased with himself.
Tyson was starting to feel sorry for any of this guy's future children. "So you like stories?"
"Bah, 'stories'. No, my dear friend, 'stories' are what liars tell to get away with their crimes." The wheelchair-bound man pushed his glasses up, smirking. "I prefer to call them legends, for the word 'legendary' does much more credit to the greatness of stories like Dante's Inferno and Beowulf…"
"... You just called them 'stories'." Tyson pointed out with a frown.
"Wha- dammit!" Julian crossed his arms, growling. "A single word slips through my lips, and my entire argument falls apart! Ahaha… How fragile… How so, so fragile…"
"Right…" Tyson shook his head. "So, hallway?"
"Huh?" Julian frowned. "Ah, right. Get the door for me, would you?"
Tyson nodded, moving quickly to the doors, opening one of them and keeping it open, watching as Julian wheeled right in; Tyson rushed in right after that, not exactly excited to keep inside the room with a gun…
Julian and Tyson found themselves in a U-shaped hallway. They had entered the bottom line of the 'U', and found that they could go left, right, or straight ahead into another set of double doors.
"So, uh, Rose and Terry had to help get you down the stairs, right?" Tyson wondered aloud, glancing around the hallway. "That's… Strange, right?"
"Tyson, I'm in a wheelchair." Julian deadpanned. "Stairs are my mortal foe."
"Oh, no! Not that part." Tyson shook his head, biting his lip. Damn, he could have worded that better… "I mean, since we were all supposedly kidnapped, you'd think that whoever did this would, uh, look into who they were kidnapping, right…?"
Julian considered this. "Ah… So you're saying they might have tried to accommodate for me?"
Tyson shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, I'd think so. I mean, they probably had to carry you and the wheelchair up the stairs in the first place, so…"
"Strange." Julian clicked his tongue. "Well, it's possible they looked into me about a week ago and saw me walking around… This whole 'wheelchair' thing is recent."
"Recent?" Tyson blinked, surprised. He looked down to Julian's legs, noticing casts. Oh, right. Duh. "So you were involved in an accident?"
"An old lady hit me with her car. Would you believe it?" The boy chuckled softly. "I just had to get injured right before getting stuck in the most generic manor ever… Fun."
Tyson shut his eyes for a moment, crossing his arms as he thought to himself. "... So you haven't recovered at all, right?"
Julian nodded. "Still can't walk. So it's unlikely we were knocked out for a long period of time, if that's what you were thinking about…" He smirked, pushing up his glasses. "Unless, perhaps… We were asleep for years and years… And our kidnapper simply broke my legs before waking us up!"
"... Yeah, that doesn't sound likely." Tyson quipped, rubbing the back of his head.
"Exactly. So why don't we stop thinking about impossible things?" The blonde-haired boy smiled. "Let us focus on exploration. Where should we go?"
Tyson considered this for a moment. "Well, the other doors look inviting…"
"Ah, nevermind." Julian shook his head, pointing behind Tyson. "There's Terry."
Tyson blinked, turning around to see a brown-haired boy walking down the hall, waving to the two. He had a gray shirt and tan pants on, carrying a small flash camera in his hands. "Hey! What's up?"
He knocked his right hand against the wall next to him as he walked, casually moving on as though nothing had just happened. He flicked his wrist, stretching as he walked along to the other two boys.
"Still got that tick?" Julian sighed. "How is your wrist not broken…?"
Terry shrugged, a nervous bead of sweat rolling down the side of his head. "S-Sorry, can't help it… It's no big deal, though! Just a thing I do."
"You nearly dropped me. Twice." Julian took a comb through his hair, somewhat annoyed. "Have you considered seeing anyone about that? A therapist, maybe?"
Terry rolled his eyes. "I don't need a therapist. Don't make a big deal out of it; I won't carry you anymore, okay?"
He hit his hand against the wall again, flicking it once more as he shrugged, moving on. "So, who's the new guy?"
"I'm Tyson Jin." Tyson introduced himself with a small smile. "You're Terry Holds, right? Rose told me about you and Julian."
"Ah, did she yell at you, too?" Terry grinned, hitting his fists together. "She's a scary one!"
Tyson blinked, rubbing his cheek nervously. "Uh… No? But she was kind of surprised by…" His eyes widened. "Oh, shit, right! Guys, check your right arms."
"What?" Terry rose an eyebrow. "What are you-"
"Ah, so that's why you had that mark on your right arm…" Julian let out a small 'tsk' as he pulled his sleeve down. "Damn. I've got it, too."
Terry, eyes widening, pulled down the sleeve of his shirt. "Ah, hell! Seriously!?"
"Relax, it's probably just a mark from where our kidnapper drugged us." Julian shrugged.
"And that is supposed to make me relax?" Terry rolled his eyes. "Some dude injected who-knows-what into us, man! That's freaky!"
"Not that I don't agree…" Tyson crossed his arms, rubbing the back of his neck. "But there's no use panicking over it now. Our goal should be finding an exit."
"Well, the only exit we've found is guarded by a big gun." Terry grimaced. "So… Yeah, I ain't going near that."
"Someone will have to." Julian frowned. "If we don't find another exit, that is…" He grinned, crossing his arms. "But who would be brave enough to traverse such deadly waters…? We'll need a real Odysseus for this…"
"Does he always make historical fiction references…?" Tyson looked to Terry with his brow raised.
"That's his thing." Terry shrugged. "Seriously, he made, like, three, when we were carrying him down the stairs. All just as forced as that one."
"It's endearing!" Julian glared. "... B-But… I suppose I should stop. I don't want anyone to think I'm creepy."
"Already crossed that bridge, dude." Terry smirked, lightly hitting his wrist against the wall again.
"Says the man who won't be able to use his right hand in a couple of years." The wheelchair-bound boy grumbled. "Now then, did you find anything useful?"
"Yeah! I ran around and found a lot!" Terry smiled with some pride, placing a hand on his side. "There's a dining hall to the right, where I just came from. There's a kitchen in there, too. There's a locked door at the end of the hallway, though…"
"Any exits?" Tyson bit his lip.
Terry shrugged. "Sorry, nothing. But I found lots of food! We could have a big feast or something!"
"Nobody cares about having a feast." Julian rolled his eyes. "We need to find a way out. Have you checked anything else?"
"There's a big, uh, dancing room right there." Terry pointed to the set of double doors that Tyson and Julian hadn't entered through yet. "It's all white and stuff, though, just like the rest of this place. Someone needs to start painting this dump, ASAP!" He grinned, crossing his arms.
Tyson shook his head. "So there's a ballroom, too... Are we in a real manor, after all…?"
"I'm doubtful." Julian threw in his thoughts, tapping the arm of his wheelchair with his fingers. "This place is horribly generic. I refuse to believe that any home designer with any pride whatsoever would allow this mess to be created. This could be something else entirely."
"Like what?" Terry put his hands in his pockets. "Is it a bunker or something?"
Julian laughed. "A bunker? No, no, a bunker wouldn't have chandeliers, or paintings, or… Any of this nonsense." The boy shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know where we could be… But I refuse to believe it's someone's manor. Not unless we find the corpse of some poor interior designer."
At the mention of 'corpse', Tyson shivered. "Uh, right… Well, Terry didn't check the left, right? We should see what's there."
"Ah, right. That's more important than my rambling." Julian seemed annoyed at himself, shaking his head. "Apologies. So, let us explore!"
The three boys traveled towards the left of the 'U' hallway, noticing a few more doors. A door at the end of the hallway, which was sadly locked, a door leading into a storage room, and a door leading into a lounge.
"I'll check out the storage room." Tyson volunteered with a small smile. "You two can check out the lounge."
Terry nodded. "Fair enough! 'Cause, y'know, Julian and I get along totally well." He smirked, crossing his arms.
"We can make amends while we stare at a tiger rug or something." Julian sighed. "Best of luck, Tyson!"
They went their separate ways.
Tyson had glanced inside of this storage room before, while he, Julian, and Terry checked out the hallway. But he didn't really realize how big it was until he had stepped inside. It looked like it could fit many more boxes of things than it did currently, and had plenty of shelves filled with tools and-
"Name. Now." A deep voice demanded.
Tyson froze. He felt something metallic press up the back of his neck, causing chills to go down his spine… His eyes widened, his breath quickened, and he found himself fearful for his life in mere seconds.
What a fun start to his day!
"U-Uh… Tyson Jin…!" He grimaced. "P-Please, put, put down the gun, okay…? I'm not here to hurt you…"
"Oh, this isn't a gun." The voice lightened up a little. "It's a bat."
Oh. That explained why the metallic thing felt pretty sizable… Tyson had just assumed it was a shotgun or something. "R-Right, well… Can you put down the bat?"
"..." There was a sigh, and Tyson no longer felt the metal. "Right, fine. But if you're the reason I'm here…!"
"Relax! I don't know who you-" Tyson spun around, eyes widening. "... U-Uh…"
The man Tyson was facing was wearing a gas mask. Furthermore, he had black robes on, black gloves, and black boots. He had the hood of his cloak thrown up, over his head, and he overall looked like the scariest thing Tyson had ever seen in his goddamn life.
He might have looked even more intimidating if it weren't for the fact that the metallic baseball bat he was holding was pink and covered in sparkles.
"... What's with your… Everything?" Tyson rose an eyebrow, unable to put his complete confusion into words.
"I just found the bat in here." The man shrugged. "And I'm wearing the mask and everything out of necessity. I'm not pretty to look at."
"You can't be that bad." Tyson frowned, shaking his head. The man shrugged.
"Fine then." The man put a hand to his mask, taking it off for a moment…
…
He put it back on. "So, what do you think? Can I win a beauty pageant?"
Tyson gulped, eyes wide. "... What happened to you?"
"I've been through some shit. Obviously." The man shrugged. "You learn to roll with it, though. Put on some black robes, a gas mask, call yourself 'The Deserter', and people start knowing how to treat you."
Tyson seemed bewildered, taking a step back. "... Uh… That's… Kind of…"
"Edgy?" The Deserter wondered. "Yeah, I know. Sounds like something out of an emo's diary. But I've come to accept that my life is just 'edgy'."
Tyson shrugged. "Uh… Fair enough. So, did you wake up here, too…?"
The Deserter nodded. "Yep. I'd reckon I was the first one up, too." He examined his pink, sparkly bat, giving himself something to do while he talked. "I went inside the foyer, saw the gun… Panicked, ran away… And hid in here."
That meant that Rose would be waiting for one less person. Tyson figured he should report back to her at some point so that she didn't stand up there forever. "You should probably come with me. I can introduce you to the others." The Tactician offered with a nervous smile. "But you might, uh… Well, I'm not sure if the bat makes you more intimidating, or… Less so…"
"I'll keep the bat." The Deserter shrugged. "I can't imagine anyone taking someone who looks like me carrying a pretty pink baseball bat seriously. It'll be better that way."
Tyson smiled. "Alright. Let's go."
With a Deserter at his heels, Tyson exited the storage room.
"So, did you find anything else in the storage room?" Tyson wondered as he and the edgy man entered the hallway.
"I found a toolbox, alongside all sorts of miscellaneous supplies... " The Deserter quipped. "... Heh. I just found a use for the word 'miscellaneous'... Cool."
The Tactician decided not to question why that was some sort of accomplishment to him. "Right… Nothing else? No way out?"
"Eh…" He looked down at his pretty pink bat, thinking to himself. "Well, there was this trapdoor, but it was locked. I decided to cover it with some boxes, just in case something comes crawling out of there."
"But it's already locked…" Tyson rose an eyebrow, confused. "And what would come crawling out…?"
"Monsters." The Deserter shrugged. "Zombies. Our kidnapper. Take your pick."
The two heard a door open, and they looked to the double doors leading to the foyer. Out of the doors came a young woman with flowing brown hair and sunglasses, who glanced around for a moment before looking towards Tyson and the Deserter.
…
The Deserter waved awkwardly.
"I'm not sure whether I want to be in here, or the room with the submachine gun." The girl lowered her sunglasses, raising an eyebrow at the two.
"Can't really blame you." The Deserter admitted.
"I'd rather be in the submachine gun room, myself." Tyson deadpanned.
"What's going on here?" She sighed, fidgeting with a pistol in her hands. The two boys ahead of her glanced between each other, shocked by the fact that one of them had a fucking gun. The girl took notice of this and sighed. "Relax, boys, it's a BB gun."
To prove her point, she pointed behind her and fired, breaking a vase, but hardly causing much of a sound beyond that. "See?"
"That vase didn't deserve that…" The Deserter shook his head, seemingly mourning the loss of one of the only decent-looking things in the manor.
"Eh… I didn't mean to hit that." The girl coughed, shaking her head. "Ah, whatever. So, who are you?"
"Tyson Jin." The boy introduced himself. "And my friend here is, uh… 'The Deserter'."
"'Sup." The Deserter nodded, putting the pretty pink baseball bat over his shoulder.
"Urge to kill myself rising..." The girl quipped, shaking her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Right. I'm Lola Elsworth. I shoot things."
"We can see that." Tyson took a glance at the shards on the floor before looking to Lola. "... So, you woke up here, too?"
"Yep." Lola nodded, pushing up her sunglasses. "Don't remember how I got here, though. I fell asleep in my bed and woke up here."
"Same for me. But it was a park bench instead." The Deserter adjusted his gas mask. "... Say, what's with the sunglasses, lady? We're indoors."
"Have you seen how bright this place is?" Lola scoffed. "I'll keep my glasses on, thank you very much…" She put her gun to her side, placing her free hand on her hip.
Tyson frowned, counting in his head… So, he had met Rose, Julian, Terry, Lola, and the Deserter. That meant that six out of the supposed twenty people had woken up… There was still a lot to go…
"Hey, Mr. Thinker." Lola frowned, looking to Tyson. "Find any exits?"
"Huh? Oh, uh, no, not yet." Tyson snapped out of it, shaking his head, crossing his arms. "We've checked all the rooms we have access to… But some of the doors are locked…"
"So our only exit has a giant fucking gun attached to it." The Deserter sighed. "Great. Juuuust great…"
The three heard more doors opening; checking around the corner, they noticed Julian and Terry coming out of the lounge.
"Oi, Tyson! We found jack shit!" Terry sighed. "What about you?... Uh…" He and Julian stopped, seeing that Tyson was now flanked by an edgelord with a little girl's baseball bat and a woman with a gun.
"Those are some interesting bodyguards you've got there, Tyson." Julian deadpanned. "Very threatening."
"I'm not anyone's bodyguard." The Deserter scoffed. "Got it?"
"Woah, dude, point little Sally's first baseball bat somewhere else." Terry rolled his eyes, smacking his wrist against the wall. "What's with the get-up?"
"He's been through some stuff." Tyson explained, not wanting the Deserter to remove his gas mask again. "Trust me."
"And her?" Julian looked to Lola, who shrugged.
"BB gun." She frowned. "I can prove it-"
"NO!" Tyson and the Deserter both jumped at once, causing Lola to cough, feeling embarrassed.
"You make one bad shot when you can't even see…" She adjusted her sunglasses, flipping her hair, a little annoyed.
"Right…" Julian shook his head. "Well, we didn't find any exits. Just a bunch of weapons."
"There was a rifle, but no bullets!" Terry explained with a smile. "But there was also a bunch of daggers, knives, pocket knives…"
"Shouldn't you arm yourselves?" Lola pushed down her sunglasses, raising her brow. "We're not exactly in a safe place…"
"Do I look like I can fight right now?" Julian snarked. "I can't even climb a flight of fucking stairs."
"I don't know how to use a knife… Or any weapon, really…" Terry shrugged softly.
"Well, aren't we the perfect exploration party?" The Deserter mocked. "We've got a pink bat and a BB gun. I'm sure we'll take down any attackers with this shit, easy."
"I'll take a dagger if you guys want." Tyson shrugged. "I actually learned how to use one a year ago while I was at this military base out west…"
"Military base?" Terry parroted. "Damn, dude! What do you do in your free time?"
"Uh… Long story…" Tyson chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he realized everyone was staring at him. "... I'll go grab that dagger now…"
"I'll come with." Lola nodded. "I want to see this place."
"I'll come too! I don't wanna be left alone with Julian and the other guy!" Terry grinned, following.
"Wait!... Ah, shit." Julian grumbled as he realized he was left alone with the Deserter. "... So, what do you do for fun, my new friend?" He scoffed, looking towards the man in the gas mask.
"I watch cartoons." The Deserter nodded. "Helps lift my mood up a little, you know?... Hey, do you watch Steven Galaxy?"
Julian wanted to die.
Tyson, Terry, and Lola entered the lounge. There was a comfy feeling to this place, even if it, too, was mostly white, with white and gray furniture, a polar bear rug, and several white daggers lining the walls. The rifle above the gray fireplace was black, so, there was that.
"They even painted the steel white." Lola examined one of the daggers. "Why go through all this trouble?"
"Maybe we've all gone colorblind?" Terry suggested with a small shrug. "Maybe that's a side effect of whatever we were drugged with…"
"What color are my clothes?" Lola looked too Terry with a frown. The boy looked to her, blinking, thinking to himself.
"... Ooooh… Good point!" Terry grinned. "Right, so, we're not colorblind. That's one option gone…"
"I don't think it was ever much of an 'option'." Lola sighed, shaking her head.
Tyson, meanwhile, was looking through the daggers, thinking to himself…
This situation was beyond strange. While the people he had met were nice enough, there were soon to be fourteen more joining their ranks… It all felt like too much…
Usually, on a chessboard, Tyson had sixteen pieces to move around. He could keep track of sixteen people. But if there were truly nineteen others, Tyson wasn't sure if he could keep track of everyone here.
That scared him.
They were kidnapped and in some unknown place… He was having trouble analyzing the five people he'd already met, and he had to get used to fourteen more…
Tyson touched the tip of one of the daggers carefully, thinking about the people he'd met so far. Rose seemed nice enough, if a bit bossy. Julian was strange and snarky, but competent. Terry was definitely odd, but he seemed to take this situation well, though perhaps at the cost of his wrist. The Deserter was a wildcard for sure, but his appearance aside, he seemed like he could be useful. Lola was serious and smart, something Tyson respected, but it might be harder to read her with those sunglasses on…
Yes, while Tyson had managed to act 'natural' so far, he was still panicking somewhat on the inside. The Tactician wasn't sure how he would be able to help if things started going awry… Surely not every single one of these twenty people would be willing to cooperate, after all, and there were only so many people Tyson might be able to control…
He had given it enough thought. He picked out a dagger, turning to Lola and Terry. "I'm good to go."
Terry grinned, hitting his fists together. "Hell yeah! You look battle-ready, bud!... I'll keep behind you."
"How manly." Lola lowered her sunglasses, rolling her eyes. "Come on. Let's move."
The three left the lounge behind, moving back to the hallway.
"So Tyson has obtained the fabled 'white dagger'..." Julian pushed up his glasses, putting on a grand narrator's voice. "But what mighty foes shall he slay with it? Might he defeat the grand 'Kidnapper who makes the wheelchair guy go down stairs'? Well, dear listeners, I certainly hope so…"
"Gotta give it to the guy, he has a voice for atmosphere." Terry shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.
"Right, well, I'm going to check out the rest of the rooms." Lola rolled her eyes. "I'd like to look over everything myself."
"Me too." Julian smirked. "I don't exactly trust Terry. He might have missed something."
"Hey!" Terry banged his wrist against the wall. "I'm totally trustworthy!"
"Case in point." Julian tapped his fingers against the arm of his wheelchair. "Which of you will join us?"
"I'd like to go back to the foyer, actually." Tyson admitted. "I've gotta get upstairs and tell Rose about the Deserter. I'd also like to check on whoever else wakes up…"
"Good point." Lola fidgeted with her gun, thinking to herself. "... Alright. Julian, bangs-his-fist-a-lot and I will go check the rooms. Deserter, you go with Tyson."
"What? Why me?" The Deserter flinched. "I do not want to go back into the room with the gun."
"..." Lola lowered her sunglasses, glaring at him. "..."
"... Y'know what? Fine, I'm not in the mood to argue." The Deserter sighed, looking to Tyson. "But you're leading. I'll tail you."
"Why am I the leader?" Tyson felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. "You're the one who's, quote, "Been through a lot of shit"..."
"Yeah, but I ran away from that 'lot of shit'." The Deserter shrugged. "Hence the name? Get it?"
"Oh… Actually, that makes a lot more sense now that I think about it…" Tyson bit his thumb. "Right, let's move."
"Right behind ya. The Deserter has joined your party."
Tyson and the Deserter bid Lola, Terry, and Julian farewell, entering the foyer.
There, they had encountered Rose and another person. This guy seemed kind of frightened… He had dark skin and short, black hair. He was also wearing a green shirt, blue shorts, and… Was that a halberd strapped to his back…?
"Holy shit! That guy's got a motherfucking halberd!" The Deserter shouted. "Damn! It looks even more badass in person!"
"P-Pay no attention… T-to the man with the h-halberd…" The boy gulped. "I'm… A normal guy, l-like all of you.."
"You're really not convincing anybody there…" Rose sighed, putting her hands behind her head. "... And… Is that a man in a gas mask and robes, with… A pink, sparkly bat?"
She stared at the Deserter, perturbed. The Deserter merely shrugged in response.
"His name's, uh… 'The Deserter'..." Tyson shrugged softly. "Hey, so, Rose, why aren't you upstairs waiting on people…?"
"I got kicked out of my position by some snooty siblings." Rose puffed, annoyed. "They're acting like they're in charge… Hmph! Pompous jerks…"
"Th-they seemed nice enough…" The boy with the heavy, lethal weapon murmured. "N-Not bad people, really, just… A-Afraid. S-So they want control…"
"And I want control, too." Rose crossed her arms. "But I've lost that, so… I'm back down here."
"So who are you two?" The Deserter shook his head, adjusting his gas mask. "Tyson already introduced me. I want introductions back. I wanna get introduced. Introductions."
"A-Are you just saying 'introduction' a-a lot so you can, um… Sound smart…?" Halberd boy wondered. "I-It's okay… I don't have a very big vocabulary, e-either, so… You don't need to feel bad…"
"..." The Deserter stared at the kid with the halberd. "... Yo, why's the kid with the giant, lethal weapon the nicest one here?"
"Ignoring that." Rose pouted, crossing her arms. "I'm Rose Major!" She put a finger to her lips, thinking for a moment. "And this guy is… I… Actually didn't get his name."
"What's your name?" Tyson smiled to the boy with the halberd. The boy flinched in response, gulping, but nodded to himself, speaking…
"Um, I-I'm Harold…" He smiled nervously. "I, uh… I k-kill people."
The room went silent.
"Y-Yeah, uh, I'm not very good at, um… P-Parties…" He tugged at the collar of his neck. "I'm an executioner… N-Novoslovic…"
"..." Rose blinked, turning to the Deserter and Tyson, a blank look on her face. "Right, uh… I don't know about you two, but I'm hanging on very tightly to my last strand of sanity here, so… Why don't we go… Anywhere else…?"
Harold pressed his index fingers together. "..." He looked like a hurt puppy, glancing down, denied attention from his newfound friends.
"I'll, uh, I'll stay here and talk to him." Tyson smiled. "You can go on ahead."
"Yeah, I'm following Rose." The Deserter shrugged. "No offense Harold, you're cool and all, but… There's a submachine gun in this room, and I'm pretty sure it's pointed at me."
"Let's just get out of here…" Rose sighed. "Good luck, Tyson."
Rose and the Deserter jetted out of the room, leaving Tyson and Harold alone.
"... So, uh… Was what you just said true?" Tyson rubbed the back of his head. "I mean, you don't look, um… Old enough, to be able to… Execute people."
"Oh, I-I'm d-definitely fine with it…" Harold nodded gently, holding his halberd upright. "I, uh… I-I definitely execute people, u-um, pretty regularly. I-I was almost at a hundred executions, s-so, uh, the guys w-were gonna get me a cake a-and throw a party…"
Tyson wasn't believing what he was hearing. "R-Right… Right, uh… And do you feel okay, Harold…?"
"Oh, I-I don't feel. O-Often." Harold shrugged, spinning his halberd effortlessly. It was at this moment that Tyson realized that the small boy was actually pretty muscular… "I, um… I-I don't really put m-much value on human life, o-or anything. A-And I don't feel emotions, o-often, so… I think that makes me, uh… A sociopath? P-Psychopath? I-I never really cared to label myself, i-it feels silly…"
Tyson rubbed his eyes, making sure he was seeing the complete contradiction of humanity that was Harold Slayne. Was this guy real? Was this real life? "... You're… Kind of hard to understand, Harold."
"O-Oh, is it the stuttering? S-Sorry, it's, um, a-a nervous tick." Harold gulped, frowning, tying his halberd behind his back. "I-I feel like it turns p-people off and… D-Doesn't help me m-make friends…"
"No, Harold, I think it's the whole 'killing' thing that might be the problem." Tyson coughed, nervous. "R-Really, man."
"Huh? B-But… All the people I kill a-are really bad…" Harold went back to spinning his halberd around, even going as far as to throw it up into the air and catch it. He was sweating nervously. "R-Really, really bad. C-Child abusers, m-murderers, rapists… I-I even killed a-a drug lord once! He was really m-mean about it…"
Tyson shook his head. Alright, this was getting him nowhere. "Alright, Harold. I believe you."
"Y-You do!?" Harold seemed surprised, taking a step back, letting his halberd fall and hit the ground. "N-Nobody ever… B-Believes me! Thank you!"
"Right, uh… N-No problem, Harold.." Tyson smiled gently. "But, you gotta be careful with that halberd and stuff, okay? People might get scared of you."
"S-Scared of me? Why? I-I'm not scary…" Harold said, spinning his giant halberd effortlessly.
"Trust me, Harold." Tyson deadpanned. "You're a little scary."
Harold sighed, tying his halberd to his back once more. "O-Okay, okay… I-I'll stop the halberd spinning…"
"Good boy." Tyson smiled. "Now, why don't we go upstairs? I wanna meet those two 'pompous people' Rose was talking about…"
"O-Oh, okay!" Harold smiled. "Oh boy, g-going with someone to somewhere..! I-I feel.. Befriended!"
Tyson silently hoped he wasn't going to end up with a halberd in his back today.
The two of them went up the stairs.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Harold and Tyson spotted the two people Rose was talking about. A blonde-haired woman with curly locks and a red-haired man with a confident smile. They were both wearing fancy clothing with frills, seemingly Victorian…
"Ah! Hello there!" The man grinned, waving to Harold and Tyson. "It's a pleasure to see friendly faces here!"
"..." The woman wrote something down on a notebook, smiling to herself. She took a moment to review it, nodded to herself, ripped out the page, and gave it to the man on her right.
The man took the paper from the woman on his left, smiling as he read it, nodding to himself. "Good morning, afternoon, or evening! We are the York siblings! While we are undergoing this strange situation, we hope to bring you peace of mind by offering our services as leaders!"
"Leaders?" Tyson echoed, crossing his arms. "Uh… Sorry to say, but, I'm not sure how seriously I can take the two of you in those outfits…"
"Y-Yeah, you look k-kind of stupid." Harold stated with a blank expression, biting his thumb.
The man gasped, looking offended. "We woke up in this! I'll have you know we didn't have a choice in the matter! I would have much rather had something with more pizazz!"
"..." The woman seemed to be scowling, writing something hastily before ripping the page off with much more vigor than she did before, shoving it in the man's hands. The man blinked, pulling up the paper and reading.
"... Ah, right! But my sister's dress is fine just the way it is!" He pointed. "Apologize!"
"R-Right, right, sorry…" Tyson rubbed the back of his head, grimacing. Geez… These two would be a handful. And there were eleven more people coming… Tyson felt more and more ensnared…
"Anyway!" The man smiled, glad that was over with. "My name is Arthur York! And this is my sister, Georgia York!"
"... Hello." Georgia curtsied before getting back to her writing.
"We will do our best for you, and all others who wake up here!" Arthur pointed with vigor. "My sister and I are experts at leading people! We will renew your morale, your vigor, and your SPIRIT!"
"Th-those three words… A-All mean the same thing…." Harold frowned, crossing his arms and tipping his head. "Do you e-even know what you're talking about…?"
"Of course I do!" Arthur shouted. "I'm just… Nervous! Who wouldn't be!?"
Georgia rolled her eyes, writing something on her notebook before tearing out the page, smirking as she gave it to her brother.
Arthur took the page, reading it. "YES! And Arthur is an IDIOT!" He pointed! "... Wait a second…"
Georgia had burst into giggles, causing Arthur to snap and yell at her. Tyson and Harold looked between each other, both sharing the same, unsure expression. Were these two really supposed to lead them…?
"A-Anyway!" Arthur adjusted the collar of his outfit. "Please, go back downstairs and explore! We will wait to greet anyone else who wakes up!"
"I guess w-we can trust them…" Harold bit his thumb. "Wh-what do you think, T-Tyson..?"
Tyson put his hands behind his head, thinking to himself…
Well, while he wanted to have more control than anyone… Trying to overthrow this 'dynamic duo' would be tough. He could have Harold threaten them, but that would damage Harold's reputation, and he wanted to help the executioner get some kind of social foothold around here... So he decided to back off for now.
Tyson withdrew his bishop.
"Of course. We leave it up to you." Tyson smiled.
"We won't let you down!" Arthur smiled back, crossing his arms.
Tyson and Harold went back downstairs, leaving the York siblings to do their thing.
Tyson and Harold had arrived in the foyer, seeing Lola there.
"Hey." Lola raised her hand in greeting. "Didn't find an exit. We're stuck here for real."
"O-Oh… That's bad…" Harold frowned, clasping his hands together. "Th-there's really nothing…?"
"No doors, no windows, no big air vents, no dream, no hope." Lola lowered her sunglasses. "Whoever put us in here is not gonna let us out that easy."
"Mm…." Harold bit his lip. "W-Well… At least we have e-each other…?"
"That's… Kind of the spirit, Harold!" Tyson decided to take whatever small victories he could get with this psychopath.
Lola stared at the two for a moment, not believing the stupidity before her, but soon shrugged it off, pushing her sunglasses back up. "Right, well… We did find one strange thing. There was this teddy bear in the ballroom, and it's pretty heavy…"
"A heavy teddy bear?" Tyson echoed. Well, that wouldn't be the strangest thing Tyson had seen today… "Let's go see it."
"I-I can cut it open, um… If you want…" Harold gripped onto his halberd, keeping it close to his chest. "A-And we can… S-See why it's, um, s-so heavy…"
Lola didn't respond for a couple of seconds, taking her time, processing that offer. "... Tyson, who is this guy?" She turned to Tyson, officially unable to put up with anymore of this.
"This is Harold. He's a good guy." Tyson smiled awkwardly. "He's… Also an executioner."
Harold waved awkwardly.
Lola stood silent. "..." She coughed. "..." She scratched the side of her neck. "..." She sighed. "Right. You know what? I'm not gonna even fucking bother. Let's go."
Harold, Lola, and Tyson made their way to the ballroom.
The trio arrived in a white ballroom. There were two large, white, crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, lighting the expanse of the ballroom. There were also several tables and chairs, though the tables were dressed with white cloths and the chairs were gray.
This whole 'monochromatic theme' was starting to get on Tyson's nerves. He wanted to see something natural and colorful again… This whole place was like some sort of illusion.
In the center of the ballroom were Terry, Rose, Julian, and the Deserter. They had all crowded around this monochromatic teddy bear laying on the floor. It looked pretty creepy, with a weird, red left eye…
"Hey!" Terry waved to the three with a small smile. "Uh, find anyone who can help us disassemble this or whatever?"
"I found someone who could cut it open. But if it's a bomb... " Lola contemplated this. "Maybe we should wait. See if anyone who wakes up is more experienced."
"This bear looks like just the kind of mascot I'd want for a horrific fairy tale." Julian clicked his tongue. "It must have something to do with what's going on here."
The Deserter waved around his pretty pink bat, shrugging. "Maybe, maybe not. I just wish something started letting us know what's the jig around here. I kind of expected we'd be playing some bullshit life-or-death games, like Clue."
"Clue?" Tyson echoed, confused.
The Deserter shrugged. "Hey, Clue sucks. It's nothin' but luck."
Rose rolled her eyes, putting a finger to her lips. "Anyway. I'd rather we think about the exit… Shouldn't we be considering the doors at the front?"
"The ones with the submachine gun?" Julian reminded. "Yeah, I'm not very willing to go near that…"
"Someone has to." Rose pointed out. "It's possible that the gun can't point straight down, or something. We might be able to make it inside the door."
"Eh, even if you did, the door's locked." Lola shrugged nonchalantly. "I checked it myself."
Terry gasped, impressed. "You went near that death trap!?"
"Guns are kind of my specialty." Lola smirked, a little proud of herself. "That gun might be big, but it isn't the most efficient at picking out targets quickly… It's meant mostly for intimidation. Y'know, to make sure we don't try anything funny."
"Like what? What can we try?" Julian sighed. "It feels like we're running out of options. We've searched this whole accursed manor."
"At least we won't starve…" Terry banged his wrist against a nearby table, shrugging to himself. "I mean, whoever kidnapped us probably put all that food there, so… We're expected to last for a while."
"Which makes no sense." Rose sighed. "What does our kidnapper want from us? We're just some kids, right? We don't have any connections or anything."
"That's right." The Deserter nodded. "I'm nineteen. Not going to a college or anything… What about you guys?"
"U-Um, I'm seventeen.. I-I'm not really, uh, p-pursuing higher education… R-Right now…" Harold pressed his index fingers together, nervous. "... K-Kinda busy with my, um, u-usual job…"
"I'm seventeen." Julian shrugged. "Was about to complete senior year of highschool, too."
"Eighteen!" Rose smiled, hands on her hips, happy to be one of the older people here. "I was gonna go to law school! I want to be a judge when I'm older. People say I'm pretty fair!"
Terry smiled. "Hey, that's cool. Uh… I'm eighteen, too, but I just turned eighteen last week…" The boy shrugged. "I'm not going to college. I'm trying to kickstart a career as an animal photographer." He smiled, bringing up the camera. "See?"
"Why animals?" Julian wondered, raising an eyebrow, tapping the arm of his wheelchair. Terry shrugged.
"I'm really good at getting them to calm down and stay in one place for a shot." Terry shrugged. "Like, I can get someone's cat to look just the right way, and I can get great angles... I'm pretty good at it."
"I'm seventeen." Lola shrugged. "What is all this introduction stuff going to accomplish, anyway? Are we looking for a connection? Because I'm not seeing one."
"Just one more." Rose frowned. "Tyson? What about you?"
"Oh… I'm seventeen, too." Tyson nodded with a small smile. "I want to go into the military, but, uh… I'm more of a thinker than a fighter, so.. I'm hoping I can get enough experience to be a general."
"Woah. That's a pretty hefty goal." The Deserter's eyes widened. "I mean… You sure you wanna be in the army, man? It's… Not as great as you might think…"
Tyson shrugged, moving his hand through his hair. "Well, I know it will be tough, but, I belong in a tactical position. It's just what I was meant to do."
"Tactical?" Rose echoed. "Oh, so you're a tactician or something, then! Are you good at chess?"
Tyson smiled, kind of happy to be turning to a subject that he was all-too-comfortable with. "Yeah! I'm not the best, but, I'm good…" He grinned. "And I play a mean Civ game, too. But I have real life experience with tactics, too! Giving out commands and figuring out the best solutions to problems…"
Terry laughed, smiling. "Well, that's really cool! We have a prodigy in our midst."
Lola frowned at that. "Actually… That's a good point. Some of us are prodigies, aren't we?"
Julian covered his mouth with his fist, thinking for a moment. "... Hmm… I would like to think I make a mean narrator…" He smirked. "Or a legend teller, if you prefer. Terry is good at animal photography, Rose wants to be a judge, Harold… Does his thing, and the Deserter… Well, who knows with him, but Lola has a point. We're all exceptional… Or exceptionally strange."
Tyson gave that some thought. The York siblings upstairs seemed pretty eccentric, too… Perhaps they might have some talents as well? Was everyone here talented in some way…?
Hell, it was a connection, so Tyson would take it. One small, thin thread that seemed to keep things bundled together… For the most part.
The Deserter spoke up. "So, are we just going to wait around this bear thing? If it's a bomb, I don't want to be near it…"
"Good point." Rose quipped. "We should go do something else." She put her hands on her hips, smiling. "Hey, why don't we hang out in the dining room or something? We could make some food!"
"I fancy myself a good cook." Julian smirked. "I'd just have to get a better look at what's all in there."
"Fuck it, I'm hungry." The Deserter shrugged. "I'll take some food."
Everyone mumbled their agreements, following Rose and Julian to the dining room.
The next hour was a bit of a blur for Tyson… Mostly because, rather than pay attention, he had opted to sit at the end of the table and think to himself.
This situation was beyond strange, but he felt he was finally starting to get a small foothold on the whole thing. He had made friends with almost everyone who's woken up so far, and he started to get a basic understanding of how these people ticked. Better yet, he had gained an ally…
Harold was sitting near Tyson, looking nervously to him. "U-Um… Do you think the others who wake up… W-Will be scared of me…?"
"Maybe." Tyson shook his head with a small smile. "But we'll show them you're a nice guy. Don't worry, buddy."
Harold smiled softly at that, putting a hand to his chest. "Th-thank you, Tyson…"
Yes, for as strange as Harold was, Tyson thought he would be useful. Rose and the Deserter had decided to stay away from the executioner, but Tyson knew the benefits of befriending seemingly-dangerous people…
And yet, Tyson had to make sure his ties with the others were strong, too. He had seemed to impress Rose earlier, which was good, seeing as she might be a secondary leader in this situation. Lola seemed fine with his existence, which was probably the best he could ask from her. The Deserter, while infinitely strange, did seem to take a liking to Tyson, and didn't bash the tactician's head in when he had a chance, so… That's something?
Terry seemed nice enough to everybody, despite his weird quirk. Tyson decided he wouldn't bring it up to Terry, given how the boy seemed not to react well to others having an issue with the whole banging-wrist thing. In fact, if Tyson could sympathize somehow, Terry might be a good friend to keep around… Julian, on the other hand, seemed to Tyson to be a bit of a wild card. He had acted strange in the beginning, only to turn out to be a slightly more normal, if snarky, highschool student.
Finally, those damn York siblings.. Tyson was a bit upset with himself for not trying to shoo them away. He would have liked to speak to each new person himself… Being the first friendly face that each person saw might have benefits. Getting to know each of these nineteen people surely would be the key to success in whatever situation he's ended up in.
The boy sighed to himself. And he had only gotten to know eight people… There were eleven left. What was he going to do-
"EVERYONE, REPORT TO THE BALLROOM! I KNOW YOU BASTARDS ARE ALL UP! GET OUT OF YOUR ROOMS!"
The loud, blaring announcement hit everyone in the dining hall like a bag of bricks. They looked between each other, surprised…
"That was…" Rose whispered, shocked.
"Sounded kind of like that mouse guy from all those theme parks." The Deserter shrugged. "This can't be good."
The seven were wary, but eventually, they all filed out of the dining hall…
Tyson was surprised to see that their group size had suddenly more than doubled.
He looked to see several other people filtering in, all looking like they just had a really bad day. Even Arthur and Georgia York seemed pissed as they entered the ballroom, as if someone had just interrupted one of their frilly tea parties.
"Son of a bitch..!" The Deserter whispered to the others. "What's with the big group size?"
"R-Rose was right…" Harold frowned, holding his halberd close to himself as he looked to the others. "There's… T-Twenty people here. T-Total."
"Did most of them really just… Never come out of their rooms?" Julian combed his hair nervously, grunting as he noticed more than one person looking at him funny.
"I don't blame them." Lola frowned. "We were the ones with the unnatural response. We woke up somewhere new and then decided to explore that new place, all under the threat of cameras and even a submachine gun."
"When you put it that way, we really are the weird ones…" Terry rubbed the back of his neck.
Rose and Tyson remained silent; the two of them surveyed the others, seeing all kinds of people. A man with a sword, a woman with some beautiful clothing and a devilish smile, a man with a lab coat, a girl holding a compass…
All of the sudden, they heard the voice again.
"Hey, you bastards!~" The teddy bear from earlier had popped out of the ceiling, dropping down and doing a pose, putting his paw on his side. "Welcome to my amazing estate! Isn't it just grand? I designed it after myself!"
Right, this day just got a lot stranger. Everyone tried to talk at once, some of them yelling insults at the bear, some of them yelling in terror that a teddy bear was walking and talking, and several of them simply feeding into the paranoia. The bear rolled his black, beady eye, crossing his paws.
"Listen up!" He growled, his voice countering all else, causing the crowd to shut up. "See, this is why you fuckers should have actually left your rooms and talked to people! You would have been more orderly, and this whole thing would have been TEN TIMES EASIER to explain!" He scoffed. "Seriously, even the kid with the gas mask came out of HIS room."
"Pay no attention to the kid with the gas mask." The Deserter deadpanned as everyone was now looking to him. "He is but an illusion…"
"You're not fooling anyone, kid." The bear quipped, looking to the crowd. "Alright! My name is Monokuma, and you all have been invited to my manor to play the most wonderful, most despairing game ever!"
"Oh this is gonna suck, isn't it?" The girl with the compass grumbled, crossing her arms.
"Ah, probably." A man to her right sighed, keeping his hands in his pockets.
"Quiet in the peanut gallery!" Monokuma glared, his red eye growing brighter. "Listen up, punks! From now on, y'all are Ultimates! Because you're all good at some boring thing or another, and we just wanna be able to keep track of you by giving you titles."
"'We?" The man with the sword echoed, raising his eyebrow.
"Shut it!" Monokuma glared. "So! Before I explain the rules of this game, I will be reading out your titles. You can find them again in the 'Ultimates' section of those fancy IDs I gave you."
Tyson blinked, pulling up his electronic pad. So this was an ID…? He actually had nearly forgotten all about it… The Ultimates tab was now clickable, so he pressed that and watched as a list appeared before him.
"Terry Holds! You're the Ultimate Animal Photographer!"
"I really don't want to be…" Terry admitted, tugging at his collar. "Can I go home instead?"
"No, fuck you and your feelings." Monokuma waved off. "Hannah Snow! You're the Ultimate Dancer!"
"..." The girl he pointed to was shocked, almost horrified… She was playing with her flowing white hair, just wanting this to be over with…
"Harold Slayne! You're the Ultimate Executioner!"
"O-Oh, wow." Harold smiled. "I-I never thought s-someone would consider me… Th-that good at my job…"
Everyone was now staring at Harold, and a number of people were taking a few steps away from him. Tyson sighed, putting a hand on Harold's shoulder. "Buddy, we really need to talk later about how people view your 'job'..."
"Wait, fuck, I missed Dru West." Monokuma snarled. "Ultimate Cartographer! Argh, why didn't I alphabetize these earlier!?"
"I really don't care." Dru deadpanned, holding her compass to her chest. "Like, really. I just wanna go home. We all do."
"I don't know, I kind of like it here." The Deserter quipped.
"And the weirdo who just said that is the Ultimate Deserter! Fuck if I know his name, though."
"Sweet, I get to keep my mysterious name."
"Patty Silvers, you're the Ultimate Gardener!"
A girl with a sly smirk on her face crossed her arms. "Of course. That suits me."
"Barry Berry, you're the Ultimate Journalist!"
"I can live with that." Barry smiled, adjusting his reporter's hat. "But, uh, do I get any perks for being the Ultimate Journalist?"
"No, all you get is participation in my game." Monokuma shrugged. "You're not special. Anyway, speaking of nothing special, Rose Major is the Ultimate Judge!"
"Hey!" Rose shouted, stomping her foot. "I'll be an excellent judge!"
"Yeah, yeah." Monokuma rolled his good eye. "Jeremiah Core! You're the Ultimate Mechanic!"
Jeremiah frowned, crossing his arms. He didn't bother too say anything in response, knowing it would be a fruitless effort…
"Conchordia Flight, you're the Ultimate Opera Singer!"
Conchordia said nothing, seeming to have figured out the same thing Jeremiah did. She simply put on a smile, twirling her hair.
"Arthur York, you're the Ultimate Orator!"
"Of course. I wouldn't expect anything less." Arthur grinned, but was ignored by Monokuma.
"Aaron Wright, you're the Ultimate Pharmacist!"
The man in the lab coat frowned, not quite happy with this role, but shrugging it off. He just wanted out of here… He had things to be doing.
"Alright, who's ready for the attack of the 'S' titles?" Monokuma deadpanned. "Ready? Georgia York, Scriptwriter! Rye Titan, Seamstress! Nyla Greens, Subject! Julian Grendel, Storyteller! Nick Icarus, Swordsman! Ah, boy, these are gonna be hard to remember."
The five who were called didn't have any particular reaction. The only one of note to Tyson was Julian, who pressed up his glasses, glaring at the bear…
"Oh, right, and Lola Elsworth, Sharpshooter. Son of a… Six 's' names? Really? Who in the creative department thought this was a good idea? Whatever…" He rolled his good eye.
Lola scoffed, fidgeting with her gun. It was taking all of her willpower to not pelt this bear with BBs.
"Then we have Tyson Jin, Ultimate Tactician. Almost to the end here…"
Tyson bit his lip, trying his best to memorize all of these names and titles. Monokuma's fast reading of all those 's' names threw him for a loop, however…
"Finally, there's April Nun, Ultimate Trapper! We're finally done! There's your titles!"
Tyson watched as the titles appeared on his electronic tablet… Ah, this would work, then. But there was something worrying about each name and title…
Right next to each name and title, there was a 'STATUS' icon… Each person had one of these, and each icon declared that they were 'ALIVE'... Did that mean they might…
Well, this was getting worse by the second. Tyson gulped, looking towards Monokuma, who simply laughed.
"Upupupupu…" He smirked. "Some of you are piecing it together… That's right, kids! My game of despair is… A killing game!"
Chaos.
The room burst into several different yells and cries. Tyson covered his ears as the room suddenly burst into a sound-filled frenzy… But again, one louder voice overcame it all.
"LISTEN UP!" Monokuma. "You wanna leave this place!? Then you've gotta kill someone and get away with it! When someone dies, we'll hold an investigation, there will be a murder trial, and you all will vote for who you think the killer is. If you vote the killer, they die. If you don't, innocents die. Got it?"
Before anyone could ask questions, Monokuma laughed. "And before you ask stupid questions like 'why' or 'how'... Don't bother! I'm doing this just because I can!" He grinned. "Now, if you want, you can check out the rules on your IDs. Also, keep in mind that the doors to each of your rooms are locked and unlocked using your ElectroIDs. So you better keep 'em around!"
"Wait!" Tyson shouted. "What about our arms!?"
"..." Monokuma looked to Tyson. "Oh, right. I forgot. Yeah, I injected a poison into you."
"What!?" Julian shouted. "What the hell!?"
"You expect us to go through a killing game while we're all poisoned?" Nick scoffed. "You're mad."
"Alright idiots, simmer down!" Monokuma frowned. "It's just the first motive! You get it? In three days time, that poison will start kicking in, and the lot of you are gonna die. But if someone kills before that… When the body is discovered, I'll immediately pass out the antidotes!"
"A motive…" Terry whispered. "Killing… This isn't good…"
"No shit." Lola snarked. "This isn't good. Even if we find a way out, that poison's just going to kill us."
Tyson's mind was working at overdrive. How could this happen..? How could they survive? Tyson needed to think this through. Did one of them really need to die for them to get an antidote? Perhaps they could…
But his thoughts was interrupted by the cries of some of his peers as Monokuma disappeared, leaving the students to themselves…
The group of seven that had been in the dining hall looked between each other, unsure of what to do next… Their situation had just gotten much, much worse.
Tyson bit his lip. What were they going to do now? How could they do anything against a situation like this? A damn killing game… How was this possible? Could Tyson do anything about it?
He had to think… If he didn't figure this out…
People would die…
He couldn't allow that. He had to make sure as many people survived as possible. He wouldn't let this bear win!
DANGANRONPA: OFF THE HOOK
A Fanfiction by Tipuzzle
The scene opens with an overview of a completely white room. Within the room, all of the players lie on the ground, unconscious.
Tyson is the first to wake up, sitting up with his hand pressed against his head. He's remembering… Terrible, terrible things. The people around him disappear, replaced with bloody pulps, corpses twisted by despair.
Then, his friends appeared… But they all had twisted, bright, evil, pink eyes that replaced their regular ones...
One corpse disappears, replaced with a confident girl, wearing a judge's gown and wielding a golden gavel. She smirks to Tyson, eyes flashing a bright pink for a moment as her title card appears: Rose Major, Ultimate Judge
Another disappears, replaced with a man knelt down, looking at a picture of his loved one, a wrench in his hand. He glanced solemnly over to Tyson, his eyes pink and painted with evil, frowning as his title card appears: Jeremiah Core, Ultimate Mechanic
A dark shadow in the corner of the room appears. It's wielding a giant halberd and has red, piercing eyes… But upon zooming in, Tyson sees a scared boy, teeth chattering, eyes pink as his title card appears: Harold Slayne, Ultimate Executioner
Flowers appear in the center of the room, and a young woman rises from them, a finger pressed to her smirked lips, eyes pink as she looked confidently towards Tyson. Her title card appears: Patty Silvers, Ultimate Gardener
Gunshots are heard as a young woman with sunglasses slides in, her corpse fading as she pointed her rifle towards Tyson, glaring, her pink eyes unwavering. Her glare turns into a smile as her title card appears: Lola Elsworth, Ultimate Sharpshooter
Camera flashes mark the corner of the room as a boy jumps from the ceiling, rolling onto the floor and taking a picture of Tyson, grinning, giving the boy a thumbs up with evil, pink eyes. His title card: Barry Berry, Ultimate Journalist
A frigid cold enters the room as a boy with formal clothing and a large sword enter the room, glancing around with a sense of purpose, his pink, diligent eyes landing on Tyson as his title card appears: Nick Icarus, Ultimate Swordsman
A girl spins into the room, leaping towards the center, landing on the tip of her heel and smirking as she expertly waved from one spot to the other, moving like the calm flow of a river… She smirks to Tyson with bright pink eyes. Her title card: Hannah Snow, Ultimate Dancer
A figure in black robes and a gas mask bolts in, closing the door behind him and pressing his back against it. He looks to Tyson, removing his gas mask for a moment, shining his one good pink eye towards him as his title card showed up: The Deserter, Ultimate Deserter
A man rises from where his corpse once was, adjusting his gloves, glancing around with a sense of skepticism. He adjusts his lab coat, looking to Tyson, uncaring of the chaos around him, though his evil, pink eyes suggested he had malevolent intent… His title card: Aaron Wright, Ultimate Pharmacist
A girl bounces in, checking her map and compass, stepping over her corpse as she tries to find her destination. She growls, annoyed, looking to Tyson with a sense of disdain and with evil, pink eyes as her title card pops up: Dru West, Ultimate Cartographer
Having enough of this, Tyson tries to move, but finds his bound by some sort of rope and net… He looks up, finding a small girl looking down at him, smirking, offering him a light shrug and bright pink eyes as explanation for his imprisonment. Her title card: April Nun, Ultimate Trapper
A man and a woman, both dressed in extravagant clothing, dance around each other; the man carries a microphone, and the woman carries a paper and pen, and the two work together like the perfect team, their pink eyes glaring towards Tyson as their title cards appear: Arthur and Georgia York, Ultimate Orator and Ultimate Scriptwriter
A taller woman moves to the stairs within the room, sitting down and crossing her legs elegantly as she flips her hair, giving a stunning smile filled with beauty and evil intent to Tyson. Her pink eyes shined as her title card showed up: Conchordia Flight, Ultimate Opera Singer
A small girl smiles to herself, whistling as she got to work on her newest project, knitting together a cloth that depicted a skull and crossbones on it, smiling delicately with pink eyes as her title card appeared: Rye Titan, Ultimate Seamstress
A boy with a wheelchair appears out of nowhere, smirking as he pushed up his glasses, opening a book in his lap and allowing all sorts of mythical creatures to fly out as he laughed, pink eyes causing his glasses to shine pink as his title card appears: Julian Grendel, Ultimate Storyteller
Someone taps Tyson's shoulder, causing him to look towards a girl bending down to look at his pathetic self, smiling a sweet smile as she offered him a plate of poison. Her bright pink eyes mocked Tyson as her title card popped up: Nyla Greens, Ultimate Subject
Finally, a man offers his hand to Tyson. He's smiling, holding a small, digital camera, with a cat on his shoulder, meowing affectionately. He is the only one without pink eyes, and yet, his title card appears: Terry Holds, Ultimate Animal Photographer
With his help, Tyson breaks free of his binds. The boy hops free of his binds, pointing towards a teddy bear in the back, yelling towards him; Monokuma responds with a small smirk, shrugging as he shows his title card: Monokuma, Estate Owner
A chess board appears, and the people Tyson had met become pieces on the board… He looks up to see that Rose Major is on the other side, frowning towards him, holding her gavel high. Tyson glares, unwilling to back down… His title card appears: Tyson Jin, Ultimate Tactician
The stage is set, and the ultimates are ready to play…
But who will win in the end?
Who survives in a life or death game?
Please… Join me, for a Danganronpa unlike any other.