And so he "brought down the gavel" – it was over.

That single bang between the wooden mallet and the block echoed across the room and, there, a chorus of whispers and murmurs streamed around me, like a large band of bees it loaded the thick-aired space – I choked – that the dull drones drilled through my ears. I could only look up, my face creased with utter dismay and moist with sick apprehension, and unable to bring out a voice that could rescue me. The problem was I had nothing. I was completely defenceless, naked even, despite having an aid by my side.

The man throned on the highest desk didn't even return my gaze; he solely stared down, his line of vision passing through me, his face heavy and blank.

These two men in blue clenched onto my arms, their gloved hands made me feel as if I was foul, and hauled me towards what's supposed to be an exit.

Heads down, I replayed scenes. Fast forward. Rewind. Pause.

"Deddomanwandarando," I mouthed, mimicking the judge's lips. Due to limited knowledge, I couldn't interpret it.

But, nonetheless, his last words concluded my fate: "We hereby sentence the defendant, Walker Allen," boomed the authority, "to death…"

It's funny how we weren't totally confined, I pondered.

I've always imagined that metallic cuffs were to be typically locked around our wrists to restrain us from attempting to break out. We were dirty criminals, after all. But all the way from Hokkaido Prefecture to… here, there was not a lot that challenged whatever freedom we had left and not one of us criminals seized that golden opportunity. Have they forgotten that we are being driven to our death sentence? It's impossible to disregard such matter as our end, that's insanity.

Me? I chewed and thoroughly grinded my lip, too pathetic for a tasty master plan.

Perfectly in order and perfectly in unison, out of the van and one behind the other, we trudged over a smoothly cemented path as we were led into a building structure so large and thick that it seems to be swallowing us whole.

I welcomed myself to Deadman Wonderland.

"Have you ever heard of Carnival Corpse, Allen?"

Eventually, after what seemed like a month, I had already forgotten my purpose here. It's too good to be true, is it not? I managed to stomach the fact that, with this brace bounded around my neck, lethal poison was being injected to my bloodstream on a daily basis and that consuming a candy-like antidote every three days will only postpone my end.

"What's that?" I inquired.

Now, I'm living like a liberated prisoner – still locked away from the rest of society, but still able to do the norms, like socialising and working (with those life-prolonging candies as payment. Thank goodness, oh, thank goodness).

"Are you serious? Did you eat a lot again? The food is blocking your ears, I swear…"

If you ignore intimidating inmates and the occasional violence and blood spill, life was quite alright and decent.

"Hey…" I pushed on. "What is it?"

Anxiously, his eyes shifted to the side and his hand followed, pointing towards a large television screen. "Aren't you the Dove?"

Then, as if on cue, three guards marched into the room and the canteen was instantly silenced.

My inmate continued. He whispered, "Do you still not know anything?" He sounded ever so frustrated.

"'Carnival Corpse'… Deadmen – men and women who have exhibited the 'Branch of Sin'… the Great Tokyo Earthquake… experiment… limits of that power…"

The hologram paused and Tamaki stepped between me and the pixels, swiftly flinging his arms outwards as if he concluded the video clip.

"Allen Walker, yes?" he inquired as he hovered his fingers over a clipboard. "…British. Sixteen years old. You're pretty good at Japanese, you know. Did you study it?"

"So, Deadman… Are you ready?"

"… And the only way to do that is to pit Deadman against Deadman in a FIGHT TO THE DEATH…"

Built after the Great Tokyo Earthquake for the sake of reviving the famous oriental capital that had sunk into ruins and cradled by the waters; with very modern technology, it's designed after a flamboyant tourist attraction, a theme park.

A prison with a twist, you could say.

It's accessible to the public to entertain and boost morale, also operated by the convicts.

It's greatest attraction? It's called the Carnival Corpse.

And the spotlight is on me.

Welcome to Deadman Wonderland.

Author's Note: Obviously I've been off for a very long time; but I don't really know if I'm back - I doubt, sorry.

What got me to post again was this piece of assessment I had to do for school. We were to do a "cross-over"(but the school doesn't know this term) and it reminded me of Fanfiction. So, I was like: "Why not?" because it was relevant.

I still haven't received my grade for this, I'm itching to know what my English teacher will think of this.

I also think doing a cross-over for an assessment is ridiculous because only those familiar with the story it is based on will notice its creativity (for example: clever puns)... Especially since this piece of work adds up to your final grade.

Anyway... Bye (: