A cartoony bird danced across the screen, all the while smiling and flapping its' wings gleefully. He then turned to the side, beak lifted as he stood proudly; a wing gracefully swooping backwards as he presented a man, known as Crow, strapped to a metal chair. In front of him stood a massive slot machine and on the right of that was a short haired woman, wearing a white lab coat and black rimmed glasses.

An overwhelming feeling of dread formed as Ganta watched silently. The sound of his door sliding open briefly diverted his attention as a young woman entered. She had strong features: a defined jawline, thick brows, medium sized nose, with a septum piercing, and full lips. He recognized her from earlier, wandering the halls of G-block while he was hauled off to the Carnival Corpse.

"You might not want to watch this," she blurted out.

"Who," he was interrupted once the bird's happy voice chimed in.

"It's time for tonight's penalty game," the bird exclaimed. The lever was pulled and slots began rotating.

"What is this?"

"…Like he said, 'tonight's penalty game'."

Crow stared vacantly at the slot machine before giving an indication for the woman to stop. Gradually, the slots decelerated then came to a halt. There were three eye shaped icons with the text 'R. Eye' underneath. The metal chair straightened out, his body lay flat on the metal surface. Various tools were brought in. The woman crossed over to him, grinning menacingly with flushed cheeks as she chose one of the medical instruments. Additional straps were placed to restrain him and his lids were held open with a speculum.

This place couldn't get any worse, Ganta thought.

Those thoughts quickly dissipated as he watched, in absolute horror, Crow's right eye being plucked out and crimson red trails streaming down the right side of his face. The woman performing the procedure licked her lips, aroused by the sight. Ganta's squalls mixed with Crow's. His hands covered his mouth as he rushed to the bathroom; he fell to his knees, expelling bile in the toilet.

The young woman, who entered the room, followed him and released a sigh. She grabbed a roll of tissue from on top of the toilet, unraveling a decent amount, and then waited. More gagging, coughing, and sobbing echoed. She nudged him, handing him the tissue. Lightly he dabbed at the corners of his mouth, nose running, and tears streaming down his cheeks. Without warning, he jumped up, clinging to this random stranger. At first, she gave him a gawky pat on the shoulder, uncertain of what to do. Immediately, realizing she was out of her element. Releasing another sigh, and then imitating a half-hearted embrace. Ganta continued to sob, grabbing a fist full of her shirt, wrinkling the soft material.

"Nice…bathroom," she paused, realizing her comment was greatly inappropriate.

Ganta lifted his gaze to the female who laughed nervously, watching as she ruffled her dark violet pixie cut, with sapphire blue tips. The inept response caused him to smile a little; grateful of her quirky nature. He bowed his head apologetically, and then stared at her extended hand.

"Name's Jurai," she said. She grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake.

"How long have you been here?"

"Five months."

An image appeared in his head of a woman with similar features, except she had curly shoulder length hair. The Carnival Corpse compilation he was forced to watch; a couple of them were from past battles she participated in. Though she appeared harmless, she was far from it. Jurai displayed agility, cunning, and erratic transitions in fighting styles. Ganta was tempted to inquire further, wondering whether or not she ever lost, but decided against it.

"Does it get better," he asked.

"No, it just gets harder," she smiled inwardly, exiting the bathroom without another word.

Ganta hurried out of the bathroom, expecting her standing outside the door, but instead was met with plain white walls, a twin high riser, and his prizes from winning the Carnival Corpse.

Next Day

A cheerful song began playing from the television, waking Ganta from his slumber. He rolled over in his twin sized bed, eyes glued to the fifteen inch screen as he watched in silence.

"Morning all," the cartoony bird exclaimed, wings flapping rapidly. "Another Carnival Corpse is scheduled for tonight!"

Unexpectedly, Ganta jumped up. He was fully alert and sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning forward. A few clips from his battle with Crow were displayed along with a brief summary declaring him the winner then a recap of last night's penalty game.

"Tonight will be a glorious skirmish between Falcon and Nighthawk." Beside the names were the pictures of the contestants. Falcon appeared to be a bald man, in his mid-thirties, with a platinum blonde goatee. His eyes were dark brown, brows thick and unruly. His opponent, on the other hand, was the woman from last night; Jurai, with her dark violet hair, staring vacantly at the camera. Her hazel orbs, with emerald green specks, glimmering.