...whoops.
All things considering, this update is right on schedule...considering how long this chapter ended up turning out. I really apologize that this whole episode took so long to reach its climax, but hopefully as you read through this chapter, you'll understand why I couldn't cut corners like I might have wanted to. Enjoy this FINAL final portion of episode two!
(And maybe consider some designated bathroom breaks in between.)
Episode 2 (Part 6)
For a city hovering above the clouds, the transition of the afternoon was marked less by the spectra of the sky so much as it was by the shadows cast by the surrounding buildings. Surprisingly enough, the common cluster of eager tourists had died down, even within the vicinity of the Glitz Pit. The buoyant burg was not entirely desolate, however, and while no bouts were scheduled for the remainder of the evening, Glitzville still offered many opportunities for its visitors.
"HOT DOGS! FRESH OFF THE GRILL! ONLY TEN COINS!" The cries were coming from an elderly Mr. Hoggle, whose vocal cords still had not faded after thirty years. Standing outside of his food truck, Koover reached into his wallet for the appropriate amount, which he exchanged for the vendor's specialty item.
"You know Mr. Hoggle gets his meat ingredients from the remains of the fighters who never escaped the ring, right?" The hot dog in the Koopa's hand paused en route to his mouth as Bandy Andy approached from behind. The fighter grinned as Koover's appetite faded somewhat.
"No! Bad! Very bad!" Mr. Hoggle scolded as he remembered the Bandit's face. "I feed my customers quality hot dogs, not vicious lies!" Bandy Andy laughed at the vendor's indignation before throwing down ten coins as a peace offering.
"Uh oh, sounds like you've got a reputation for trickery around these parts," Koover teased as he reached for a bottle of ketchup. "If I didn't know any better, I'd wonder if you're the saboteur of this game just like you are the saboteur of this hot dog stand!"
Bandy Andy: So far, having a coalition with Koover has exceeded my initial expectations. He's good at filling me in on the deets which I might otherwise miss out on, and oddly enough I get the sense that he has complete trust in me. Perhaps a bit too trusting. And I've got no shame working that to my advantage!
Hot dogs in hand, the two searched for a bench nearby the blimp field, but quickly stumbled across another of their companions. "Oh, hey guys!" Mamar greeted, closing her journal slowly as the two approached her. "I hope you aren't spoiling your dinner by purchasing those."
"If anything's getting spoiled, it's my appreciation for this town," Koover mused, giving Bandy Andy a backwards glance before taking his first bite. While he sat down immediately, the Bandit lingered a bit longer, his gaze fixated on the journal in Mamar's lap.
"Paranoid?" he asked, somewhat bluntly. "Actually, I guess both of you would be, considering you're each walking into tonight's quiz at a disadvantage."
"Well, it's definitely more unnerving without the security blanket I had last time," Mamar explained with a sigh as thoughts of the questionnaire flooded her head. She then turned to Koover. "I suppose I have you and Nastasia to thank for reducing the steepness of the penalty before I carelessly let myself fall out of this game. But as Eldstar would tell me, there's no purpose living in regret over doing the right thing. Sure, two thousand coins added is no twenty thousand subtracted from my previous exemption, but looking back, I guess it was worth it." Hearing this, Koover frowned.
"Really? Because I'm feeling the buyer's remorse," he confessed as he recalled his earlier decision. "I figured there was bound to be an exemption offer somewhere, but with the quiz only being a few hours away, I guess I was a little too optimistic."
Bandy Andy apparently clenched his hot dog a bit too tightly as he observed a fresh mustard stain on his classic green jacket. "Hey, that's not necessarily true," he encouraged as he stole a napkin from the Koopa's lap. "Besides, no deficit can knock you down so long as you know who the Mole is!"
"Phrase it that way and you make it sound as easy as picking out a bow," Mamar chuckled as she shook her head. Noticing that the two had taken seats on either side of her, the Star Spirit pulled out a pen.
Mamar: Going into this quiz, I'm realizing that it's important to have a fresh perspective. I don't really suspect either Koover or Bandy Andy, so whatever information they share with me should be earnest observations on their part. And if some of them share the same suspicions that I do, it could be assurance that I'm on the right track.
"Since I have both of your attention, maybe we could entertain some Mole suspects?" she proposed, flipping open her journal to the page she had been on before their arrival. "I know that Koover and I were in the van together in yesterday's mission, so I especially want to hear your story, Andy. How did Pennington and Sushie seem during your mission?"
"Oh gee, um..." Bandy Andy's voice trailed, taking a moment to look away from his inquisitor. "To be honest, after our jet landed in Rogueport, we did separate from one another to try and raise coins all across town. That made it pretty difficult to keep tabs on either one of them. If I was able to track anything, it would have been limited to our journey in the skies together."
The frown on Mamar's face represented her disappointment at this response. "So you didn't pick up on anything?" she asked concernedly, unable to add any scribbles to her journal. "Did you at least notice any dubious behavior from either one on the flight? Maybe a distraction from the wine bottle?"
Bandy Andy shrugged. "I mean, Sushie was certainly all in with the massage treatments we were offered...Pennington was a lot more reserved in that respect. Though, he also partook in the wine while Sushie was more cautious in her consumption." As the words left his mouth, he folded his hands behind his head and stretched his legs, apparently indifferent to the intel he was offering.
"Wish I had more information for that, even for my own sake," he surmised casually. Koover stared at the Bandit inquisitively, and when Mamar's gaze returned to her journal, caught a wink from his partner.
Bandy Andy: What I didn't end up disclosing with Mamar-but did share with Koover later-was that I caught several possible sabotages by my travel buddies. Pennington worsened my trouble when he dumped the mangoes in the harbor, and Sushie wasted a ton of time in both of hers, working without pay an extra half hour and trying to finish her supermarket sorting even after I brought in the coins. But for Mamar's ears, those details are hush hush.
Vinny found himself passing the time atop an observation deck in Glitzville. The balcony itself was actually a glass dome of sorts, which offered tourists a panoramic view of the Glitz Pit skyline behind them and the bed of clouds before them. Though he had favored gathering his thoughts farther away from the glass, a burst of curiosity prompted the bodyguard to rise and peer over the edge.
"Oh dear, is this the part when I convince you not to jump?" Vinny leaped back in surprise at the voice of Ms. Mowz, who herself reacted strongly to the Pianta's instantaneous burst of velocity.
"After paragliding on day one? Not a chance in hell," he chuckled nervously, somewhat happy to progress the conversation elsewhere. "What brings you up here just hours before da execution?"
Ms. Mowz grinned as she circled around him. "Whenever there's a lonely gentleman wandering somewhere, I'm bound to catch a whiff and be quick to track him down," she razzed, evoking the uncomfortable response she was looking for. "But in all seriousness, since you're up here with only the company of your thoughts, I was hoping I could extract a bit of info from those firing neurons of yours." Vinny watched as the Squeek produced her journal in a fluid motion.
Ms. Mowz: Twice my height, many times my weight, and lacking in the personality department; needless to say, not my type. But those details are irrelevant when you there's a big, Moley scoop to be caught.
Vinny folded his arms as he allowed his interrogator to prepare her thoughts. "It involves your van ride," she explained, her words immediately sending Vinny into recall mode. "What I want to know is, where were all four of you seated when you left from Flower Fields?"
"Look, if you're trying ta twist da facts about da flat tire ta fit your narrative, I'm not gonna be your best soundbox," he replied tensely, already anticipating Bree's motives. Rather than respond, Ms. Mowz stood patiently, bouncing on her heels as she offered him a convincing smile. Neither one of them appeared to be budging.
"...I was in da driver's seat," Vinny finally admitted, unfolding his arms. "Koover was next ta me in da passenger's seat, and Mamar and Nastasia were in da back doing most of the map work. But I don't see how dat insignificant detail changes-"
"And which tire had the flat, dearie?" The poised question took a moment to register, given its interruption to Vinny's own thoughts.
"Look, dere's no way to prove or disprove dat anyone in our van could have tampered with it, if dat's what you're hoping ta resolve," he deflected. "But if you're dying ta know, it was the front left tire dat popped after we passed through a construction zone. Happy?" He extended his arms out, as if to signal his declination of any further questions. After a few quick notes, Ms. Mowz slammed her journal shut, apparently satisfied with the information she'd been provided.
"Delighted, actually," she stated, circling around the bodyguard once more to make her departure. "I'm just effervescing with gratitude, considering you just admitted that the tire which deflated happened to be on your quadrant of the van." Her tail twitched as she skipped away, clearly not bothered by the pressure of her steps against the glass beneath her. Vinny raised an eyebrow at the spectacle, trying to piece together the events which had just occurred.
The Souvenir Shop at the western edge of Glitzville was displayed in a classic Japanese format, with a blue peony vase and screen serving as a backdrop for many of the items available for purchase. As they wandered inside, Sushie was immediately drawn to the aroma of a jasmine bonsai, which sat atop a shelf situated at the entrance.
"It smells like we never even left Flower Fields," she said as she wafted more of the fragrance. Her eyes soon scanned a poster of the Rawk Hawk, one of many casually plastered throughout the shop. "Though after being here for one evening, I'm surprised to say I already miss its pacific atmosphere."
"True, but could you go on a shopping spree in Flower Fields?" Peach countered, quickly shuffling towards the jewelry case. Sushie soon followed, eager to examine some of the necklaces which Peach had picked out.
"Alright, which is the winner?" she asked, holding both of her selections up against her pink blouse. Her left hand clutched a pendant whose brooch was golden wheel with seven green feathers, while the one in her right was simpler in design: a silver necklace terminating in a ruby heart with two winged frills on both ends. Without hesitation, Sushie favored the latter.
"It definitely suits you more," she explained in a motherly tone as her fin rummaged through the pile. As she examined one of the lockets closer, she noticed the presence of a certain jester from across the store, inspecting some miniature fighter figurines in the back.
Sushie: At the time, I concealed the locket from Peach, but when I noticed its yin and yang design, I realized that it bore a great resemblance to the jester mask Dimentio likes to wear. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how true that philosophy of opposites bears for someone like him. Light and dark, good and evil, player and saboteur, all bundled up into one. But the icing on the cake? If Dimentio's supposed to be the locket, then is the secret he's locking away his role as the Mole?
"Aren't bobbleheads an amusing creation?" Dimentio asked, nonchalantly handing one to Peach as the two ladies approached him. "With a head spiraling so much, it makes it rather difficult to evaluate whether they are agreeing with your or not."
"Maybe for you. You certainly aren't shy about making heads roll," Peach remarked, returning the figurine to its stand. "But for the sake of conversation, what draws you to do some browsing for mementos? For someone who schemes as much as you do, I figured you'd be busy scrutinizing your notes."
The magician smiled. "Oh believe me, I've scrutinized every fine-tuned detail in my notes already. What I'm more suspicious of, and earnestly shocked to hear both of you be ignorant to, is the manner which our host plans on revealing our earlier favorites list." Sushie sighed, realizing the gabfest had evolved to a more serious topic.
"Look, I know the stage is your friend," she began sternly, "but don't get your hopes up too high. When it comes to drama, you'd be surprised how many of us would choose to abstain."
"Aha ha, but when there's an elephant in the room, it's awfully hard not to acknowledge it," he said with a chuckle as he began sashaying throughout the store. "Do you really think this group is going to be all rainbows and butterflies after someone finds out they're at the bottom of the social totem pole?"
Peach followed the magician as he circled around racks of sale items. "Have you considered the possibility that someone might be you?" Dimentio paused momentarily, turning towards a princess who refused to break her stare.
Dimentio: Ahhh, wouldn't that be one of the grandest honors I could receive? People tend to disfavor those individuals whom they perceive as clear threats. Better yet, people also have a low regard for the ones whom they feel are deceiving them. So, if I were to rank lowly in the eyes of this caravan, I'll write it off as a victory. It means this group recognizes me as a considerable challenger...and maybe even as the Mole.
"Whatever the outcome may be, just be sure your head is firmly grounded on your shoulders," he cooed, flicking one of the Magikoopa bobbleheads as he departed from the store, the wind chimes resounding their melody as the door closed behind him. When it was clear that he was gone, Sushie took the liberty to groan in his absence.
"Still trying to stir up chaos," she said disappointedly as she reached out to halt the still bobbing bobblehead. "Like any of us would really get all gung ho about some petty popularity contest. What are we, high schoolers?" Peach noticed that these last words took more difficulty to roll of the tongue.
"Hey, let's check out those T-shirts," she suggested, leading the Cheep Cheep towards the other side of the shop. Both were content taking their minds off of the looming quiz...and other aforementioned details.
With no scheduled matches for the rest of the evening, the lobby of the Glitz Pit offered a bit of sanctuary for two players in their deliberation. "Maybe I'm still reeling after my mission yesterday," Goombella explained as she flipped back through the pages of her journal, "but if the Mole really wanted to sabotage it, they would probably try to do more than make a personal decision about which match to attend. If they could dissuade even more people besides just themselves...that would be an accomplishment."
Pennington nodded understandingly as she scrambled to find a free page to jot down information. "Don't jump the gun just yet," he cautioned, perhaps to give himself more time to locate room in his journal. "That mission was only worth ten thousand coins, after all, so perhaps they didn't attempt to hornswoggle the group last night."
"But how brilliant would it be if they convinced others to do their dirty work?" Goombella continued, clearly not backing down. "I mean, you were part of the group who, no offense, chose the wrong match to watch. Did any of the other five come across like the ringleader to you?"
Pennington: To be curt, my primary motive of pulling Goombella aside was to grill her and get as much juice out of my top suspect as I could. Now let me tell you: I am an expert when it comes to cross-examination. Well renowned for my proficiency. But the moment you get that Goomba fired up about something, there's no simmering that broil. Rather, you find yourself getting cooked instead.
"I'm not sure anybody needed any coaxing to spectate in the Glitz Pit," he argued. "But many of us hadn't realized at the time that there was anything we actually needed to be coaxed into. That rudimentary decision is up to you. Peach? Vinny? Ms. Mowz?"
"But why Ms. Mowz though?" Goombella pressed further, much to the detective's dismay. "I mean, there are totally power duos forming in this game, and I'd thought we were one, just like you and Sushie appear to be." Pennington choked on his own saliva, causing him to drop his pen as he proceeded to clear his throat.
"Ahem! Perhaps..." He paused momentarily to regain his breath. "Perhaps Bree put up some resistance because she's doubtful that she can securely place her trust in..." His interruption this time confused Goombella, because it was not due to his struggle for oxygen. Realizing that his eyes were no longer locked on hers, the archaeologist turned around, now noticing their conversation intruder for the first time.
"Oh, sorry, I just...I can leave if that would..." Nastasia bit her lip nervously as she hovered over the pair, eventually gaining the confidence to sit down in the armchair next to them. "Look, Goombella, I needed to talk to you...ideally before tonight's quiz." Goombella looked back at her uneasily, prompting Pennington to rise up and leave.
"No, you can stay for this," Goombella insisted, placing her foot in such a way as to barricade the Bumpty's exit. "I mean, you were just wanting to have an open conversation, player to player, right?"
Nastasia: I spent a lot of this afternoon, like always, alone in quiet reflection. In this game, that usually involved wrestling with my suspects for the Mole. But today...I wrestled with different demons. I could honestly care less whether the others like me or not: they usually don't. But the truth is, I had enough bad blood going into this game...that I don't need to have any more should I go out.
Pennington held his tongue upon his awkward return to the sofa. "Might as well out with it," Nastasia sputtered, her fingers fidgeting somewhat as she crossed her ankles and faced the Goomba. "As you know, I'm at an impairment tonight, by my own conscious accord obviously. But I realized I'm probably at another disadvantage." Goombella opened her mouth, but whatever retort she was prepared to deliver never came to the surface.
"I recognize that I can have a bit of a short fuse," Nastasia continued. "And that I can get ticked off pretty easily. And while I know I can't trust anybody in this game, I at least want to trust that, if I ranked the lowest on everyone's list, it's because I've made rivals...and not enemies."
"Now, how could you know you received the inferior standing?" Pennington inquired, granting himself the liberty to speak as a bystander. Goombella fidgeted in her seat, unwilling to look at either of them.
"Considering how I've acted towards Goombella, I wouldn't be surprised," Nastasia said, staring at her regardless. "I just hope that, should I go home tonight...this could be resolved, rather than be water under the bridge."
Goombella: What happened? Last I recall, she was being a complete...unpleasant word to me in the orchard; now she wants to be all buddy buddy with me? Even if her gesture is sincere...is it heartless for me to say I'm not interested?
"You have to realize," she responded blankly, "that it's going to take some time for me to open up those floodgates. But you're right, I'd rather not be enemies. There's already enough chaos having at least one troublemaker in this game." Hearing this, Nastasia rose, prompting the others to do the same as she extended a hand towards Goombella.
"I could use a lot of peace myself," Nastasia replied, both to her fellow player. A handshake, albeit an awkward one, did occur, though Pennington was more focused on Nastasia: specifically, the possible hints of a smile.
While their indulgence in last night's dinner locale certainly satisfied everyone's sumptuous palates for Glitzville, nothing could have prepared them for their arrangements that evening. Skepticism had risen earlier after the group was once again escorted by a duo of security guards past the lavish lobby and through dimly-lit hallways. Any feelings of hesitation quickly subsided when it was revealed that their four-course dinner awaited them from inside the Glitz Pit itself, with twelve glittering chairs circling covered delicacies. Now about a half hour into their meal, the immediate marvel had reasonably waned, and as the nighttime crept closer, been replaced with collective animosity.
"Back in high school?" Bandy Andy asked, repeating the host's question. "Actually, it might be hard for you to believe, but it never even crossed my mind to ever join the wrestling team. Was too busy stealing their girls from them, though." His characteristic grin was sufficient enough to trigger amused reactions from around the table.
"Ug, seems I must have missed the syllabus on how to get an A in the charm department," Koover moaned in playful envy "I was your typical bookworm, even though I didn't have quite the IQ of someone like Goombella. Fortunately for me, one of the show choir girls found me interesting enough to ask me out to prom my senior year." Sushie clutched her chest, the story apparently tugging on her heartstrings.
"Aw, that's precious," she remarked with rosy cheeks. "Whatever became of her?"
Koover's smile widened as the memory resurfaced. "Somehow, years down the road, I mustered enough courage to ask her to marry me." The Koopa blushed in response to the slew of gushing sounds which broke out shortly after.
"I actually participated in show choir as well," Nastasia chimed in, speaking up for the first time that dinner. "A little bit in college, too."
Mamar turned to her in surprise. "Really? How come you've never graced us with this talent?" she asked, extending the invitation to the secretary to put on a performance, one which immediately drew some discomfort.
"I mean, I was only an alto," Nastasia quickly clarified. "Well, not that altos sound inferior. But I was more of a harmonizer anyway...something that's carried out in most aspects of my life."
Peach: There's a special peculiarity when it comes to the dinners before the execution. Somehow, incredibly, we're capable of entering into these deep, yet lighthearted conversations. Yet for all the laughing that occurs, we're really just suppressing the quiz anxiety that's actually eating away at all of us.
Pennington, who had been distracted by swirling the pasta in his bowl, found an opportunity to interject. "It truly befuddles me," he began blankly, "how easily distracted each one of you are when the clock hands swing closer and closer towards the eleventh hour. Surely it's comforting to share what could be our final minutes in cordial company, but what becomes of it if you were to face the red screen tonight?" Hearing this prompted a sigh from Ms. Mowz.
"If all detectives respond to stress in the same way as you, then I'm amazed nobody's cracked the case on the hypertension crisis that must be afoot," she remarked playfully, soon after realizing the harshness of her words.
"Well, I think it's a fair concern," she added. "But obviously, it's on the back of everyone's minds. Save for one, maybe. But for the eleven of us to share a temporary sense of accord, which includes that individual...actually helps to make that accord feel genuine."
Vinny: But is it genuine? At da end of da day, one of us will have had da wool pulled over der eyes. And it'll be by one of da very individuals whom dey toasted glasses with hours prior. Is dere actually such thing as accord in dis game?
"Well, how about you answer da question," Vinny suggested, nudging the Bumpty in the shoulder. "What was da high school Pennington like?"
Pennington stared down at his bowl of pasta, seemingly embarrassed by the sudden attention. "Let's just say, he hasn't evolved much over the years: he's still doing a lot of searching." The mood shift was apparent to all seated at the table, with many setting down their silverware.
"Ah, another message from the Mole, it would seem," Dimentio dictated, being the first to notice the vanilla envelope being carried up the stairs to the ring by a waiter.
Goombella shook her head. "Seems the Mole literally wishes to serve us their taunts on a silver platter," she mused. Unlike their first encounter with the words "TOP SECRET", all hands at the table were quipped with pens at the ready, fully anticipating to jot down whatever corrupt memorandum awaited them. With the envelope landing closest to her, Peach volunteered to break the seal separating them from its contents:
Howdy! Mole here. Remember me?
How could you forget, after all? Even as you spend time in a burb of big names, I still seem to be the most popular character in town!
Not to mention, all of you were in such a rush just to get here! Flattered as I was, I found much more satisfaction watching you trip over your own feet.
But alas, there is no room for misstep in my bracket. Because one of you is about to face an unsuspecting uppercut.
And as the lights fade for you, I'll steal all of your fans.
The Fake. The Phony.
The Mole.
"Hooey, our saboteur friend is getting cockier and cockier," Bandy Andy noted as he jokingly clenched a fist. "Seems appropriate we're seated in the Glitz Pit. Lucky for your anonymity or I'd happily knock some humility into you!"
"But with fair reason they have to lampoon you," commented Blue, who stood from his seat at the head of the table. "As of tonight, your team pot stands at only 45000 coins." He paused for a moment, calculating his thoughts.
"You all recall your first test of teamwork, don't you?" the Toad reminisced. "A potential fifty thousand coins up for grabs. Yet across three additional missions, your efforts as a group haven't even trickled up to that initial amount. So for the Mole to goad you on in their mysterious messages...consider it like encouragement. Someone at this table is egging you all on to cooperate more with one another...so that they might enjoy a greater challenge." Blue allowed the players to digest this final morsel of advice for a few moments before he demanded their attention once more.
"Tonight, each one of you will participate in your second computer questionnaire," Blue recited. "As before, you will be quizzed on ten questions pertaining to the Mole's identity. As of right now, none of you have been awarded an exemption from the quiz, and three of you will be clicking answers with a minus one handicap, contingent with a time addition of thirty seconds." Nastasia, Mamar, and Koover all nodded in understanding, reflecting on the personal choices they had made at the train station yesterday.
Koover: A disadvantage like that this early in the game shouldn't be enough of a hindrance to knock me out entirely. Not when all of us are equally clueless as to who the Mole is. But what am I supposed to tell my family if that's the exact reason I'm returning home early? I don't need to be acting selfless for this wonderful group of people: I'm better off acting selfish for the people who aren't actively double-crossing me.
Blue stepped away from the dining table and began to pace around the stage itself. "If there's anything truly glitzy about this place, it's the thrill of the comeback," the host narrated, grabbing the group's suspicious attention. "Crowds always love to root for an underdog, you know. You could even say they make for...favorites." This last word took more delicacy to leave his lips.
"But as you can see, we have no crowd attending the Pit tonight to hedge bets for their favorites. So we improvised: we let you pick from among yourselves."
Goombella: Uh oh. I knew at some point those cards we filled out would come back to haunt us. But for it to happen just minutes before the quiz? That was enough to freak all of us out.
"Players, I have one last mission for you all this evening," Blue announced, returning to the table. "Consider it a chance to stack the deck for yourselves or for the team...at the expense of altering your own popularity among your fellow players. One by one, each of you will be sequestered in a room to take your second computer questionnaire. The order in which you will be taking the quiz was already determined by your rankings of one another: from favorite to least favorite, overall."
Sushie allowed this revelation to sink in for a moment. "So what you're indicating is, we'll all be informed tonight of who's liked and who's disliked?" she clarified, though in phrasing the question she realized she'd already answered it for herself. Many of the others responded with a similar silence.
"Hmph. I fail to see how that changes anything," Dimentio said blankly. "What difference does our order make? Or our awareness of our own celebrity?" He glanced around the table before propping back in his own seat. "Unless someone here suffers from a sensitive superiority complex."
"Such as your own?" Ms. Mowz muttered quietly. She winked at the jester who simply grinned in response.
"Precisely. Though for this quiz, there is a twist." Everyone looked at the host with bated breath. "Before each one of you clicks 'begin' on the quiz, you will be given the opportunity to explore your test-taking room and select one treasure for yourself. The moment you grab an item, however, that item is yours to keep, and you will not be allowed to snatch another.
"Wait, what do you mean by a treasure?" Nastasia quickly asked. She, like many others in the group, had immediately perked up upon hearing the word.
Blue rubbed his chin. "Let's just say, it could be the difference between seeing a screen appear green versus red."
Nastasia: Whatever lied in that room, I definitely needed it. Anything to reverse the effects of a minus one...especially since taking it doesn't seem to have reversed any effects. But who knows how easy that'll be if it's connected to my own ranking in the group.
"Keep in mind, however, that this is very much a mission," Blue reminded them. "There are eleven items of varying weight of benefactor in the room. But also hidden are four money bags, each containing five thousand coins. Therefore, if four of you sacrifice a prize and choose the money instead, a grand total of twenty thousand coins can be added to your team pot."
"If four of us make the sacrifice," Peach said lightly, but audibly enough to address a clear point: some members of the group would have to prioritize team over self.
"And the hammer hits the nail," Blue said, almost congratulatory. "Of course, the early bird gets the worm-those birds you collectively favored the most. But only time will tell whether the Mole has the last laugh. Are the players you chose as your favorites more likely to return the favor with a cash prioritization, or be tempted by the treats around them? And for those who find they aren't regarded so warmly...will they be inclined to seek a redemptive arc, or realize self-preservation needs to be their ultimate priority?" And with that, the host marched off the stage, heading through the spectator's tunnel and disappearing to the lobby.
Pennington: The quiz, without question, comprises the most imperative minutes for a player in this game. One measly miscalculation could give you the axe. But of course, the Mole's cruelty is directly responsible for my personal heart attack: that being the temptation of my own confidence. Which, um, should be top-notch. I hope...
Vinny rose from his seat, easily peering over the others to detect that Blue had indeed left them. "So dat's it?" he asked, somewhat confused by everything unfolding. "Dere's another mission left tonight, and it's taking place alongside da quiz?"
"Dude, does the thought that the group favorites get to snatch all the better rewards disturb you at all?" Bandy Andy pointed out, shrugging his shoulders at his own consideration. "I mean, who's to tell them not to, right?"
"Well, we can coordinate this somehow, right?" Goombella asked, quick to take the analytical approach. "Nobody should rush to do anything. Not with a quiz looming in the balance, and not with money thrown in as well."
Mamar nodded. "I agree. Let's talk this through a bit before we-AAAAH!"
With everyone distracted by Blue's departure, nobody had noticed the two advancing security guards who had ascended to the pit from behind them. The scream which the Star Spirit had produced, however, was not because she had detected their ominous approach, but because they had silently slipped a blindfold over her eyes. Not only that, but Mamar found herself abruptly dragged away from the table, powerless to combat their strength. The others gasped in horror at the scene before each ultimately arrived at the same conclusion: their second quiz had begun.
Dimentio: And without warning, we were being snatched. Dwindling in number around the table, until only one would remain: the one facing the brutal realization that their supposed friends had put them there.
"Player, remove your blindfold."
Mamar eagerly complied with the instruction booming from an unseen intercom, fortunate that the dimly-lit room was not illuminated enough to as to be blinding. A speedy survey of her surroundings quickly revealed to her that this location was foreign territory to her memory. Blue tile floors with countless stains throughout met her eyes, accompanied by stacks of busted lockers and a disarray of athletic gear, ranging from dumbbells to trophies to sweat rags to open bottles of deodorant. To summarize, the locker room was a complete disarray of poor hygiene, but it didn't take long for Mamar's fixation to pivot towards the laptop computer which sat on a desk in the middle of the room, alongside a timer that was slowly counting up.
00:30...00:31...00:32...
Mamar: I didn't have time to process what was going on. I hadn't imagined that I would be selected first...am I really the group's favorite? Even after sacrificing an exemption in the first round? That in itself was one surprise. The other? My quiz-taking time was initiated the moment I entered the room.
"Oh no," Mamar said in panic as she instinctively darted towards the laptop. She stopped herself from logging in on impulse, realizing that her surroundings demanded more attention in that moment.
"Wait...so am I just supposed to start looking?" she asked, more as an affirmation to herself than anything else. Unsure of where to start her search, Mamar started by opening up the closest locker, taking only a few seconds to scan its contents before moving onto the next.
Mamar: Then it dawned on me: I had a huge advantage over the others. Every item hidden in that locker room was eligible for the taking, assuming I could find it. If I was willing to dillydally a bit, I should stumble upon the best advantage. Clearly I needed it: that minus one and thirty seconds isn't going to expunge itself. But if I've built some sort of rapport among the group that I'm likable enough to be their favorite player...will that change if I walk right past one of those money bags?
"What even am I looking for?" she wondered aloud, frantically flinging open the next locker shelf. She knelt down to inspect the bottom, tossing aside a worn athletic bag. This was quickly followed by a motivation for thoroughness, with the Star Spirit quickly unzipping the bag to rummage inside. Her arm quickly swept past a green plaque, which she immediately held up to the flickering light to discover its label:
3 MINUTES ADDED
"That doesn't seem too useful," she remarked, discarding the reward entirely. Then she hesitated, remembering that whatever item she picked up and walked away with would be hers to claim by default. Nonetheless, she moved on, making her way towards the uncovered bed tucked in the corner. Focused on the shelving unit at its side, she made quick work plowing through the drawers and quickly uncovered another item: specifically, a money bag.
"Oh dear," her voice trailed, now faced with a different difficult decision. "We definitely need five thousand coins in our pot. But was the meager two thousand I contributed redemptive enough to recover to level ground with the group?" The thought prompted her to rub her temples, while her eyes panned back to the guaranteed money resting before her.
"Well, the only way I can work to boost our pot is if I'm alive tomorrow to do something about it," she reasoned, reflecting on the effects of her penalty. "And a negative quiz score isn't going to cut it." She sighed, trying not to let the greed get the best of her as she closed the drawer on the money bag, now rummaging through some of the coat pockets situated on nearby wall hooks. On her third attempt, she found herself grabbing a plaque, along with two orange circular discs:
2 JOKERS
Mamar: Jokers may not be exemptions, but they can be just as life-giving. While exemptions guarantee you'll survive the following execution, each joker acts as an additional point to your total quiz score. A plus one, of sorts. The nice thing about them though is that they can be played at any point except for the final quiz, meaning someone could amass a sizable collection and implement them perfectly to escape elimination. Or use it as a possible bribe to earn trust or information. Needless to say, those little tokens are valuable to anyone, including the Mole.
"Two jokers would certainly get me out of the hole," she reasoned, for the first time hovering over an item. "And you know what? I think I'd better take them." In swift motion, Mamar found herself clutching the two jokers, as though she were gripping onto them for dear life.
"Oh, right!" she shouted as she dashed back towards the laptop, suddenly remembering the primary reason she had been locked in this room. Her respiratory rate accelerated slightly as she observed the clock, realizing her quiz-taking time was well past two minutes already despite not having answered a single question by that point. Before typing her name into the computer, however, Mamar held both of her jokers firmly. Then, kissing each one for good luck, she set both down on the desk, indicating her desire to apply both to the quiz.
1.) Is the Mole...
A. MALE
B. FEMALE
"This...is my locker room?"
Bandy Andy scratched the back of his neck in confusion as he observed the new scene with squinted eyes. "Alright, I can dig this," he remarked satisfactorily as he began to rummage through a disorganized cluster of unwashed laundry. "Luckily for me, I've long gained immunity to this stench!"
Bandy Andy: I'm everyone's second favorite? Well I'll be damned! Haha, take that KP Pete, and all the other fighters who thought I was too full of myself whenever I tried to soak in the super-stardom. This Bandit's basking in the glory of this game, baby!
"Luckily for me, I know every nook and cranny in this place," he boasted, kicking the sock pile aside and making his way to the posters on the wall. "Only way to have fun around here is by sneaking out under Jolene's nose after all!" The fighter proceeded to rip a poster of Chomp Country from the wall, albeit somewhat carelessly as the corner ripped in the process. Andy grinned sheepishly as he rolled up the poster and tossed it in the corner, behind a lat pull-down machine.
"Ah, now that would be a good spot," he narrated astutely. "Sometimes I'd throw one of the Dead Bones' ribs back there right before one of their matches. They never workout with this machine anyway; don't have any muscles to get swole with!" Bandy Andy chuckled to himself, clearly amused with himself for divulging many of his occupational secrets with the rest of the world. A hint of dismay appeared when his search around the equipment produced nothing.
"Okay, it'd be really embarrassing to not find anything after bragging so much," he said in jest of himself. "Can't expect the producers to have chosen my preferred hiding spots; otherwise, nobody would have any luck securing a prize." He began to whistle a tune, casually picking up a set of boxing gloves on the ground and reaching inside. His smile widened when his hand grasped a plaque which clearly didn't belong there, and grew wider still when he read its label:
LEARN ONE RANDOM QUIZ ANSWER OF AN EXECUTED PLAYER
Bandy Andy: Now I may prefer playing with my heart over my head in most situations, but I'm reasonable enough to know when to prioritize the ol' gray matter. And hoo baby did I hit the jackpot! This had to be the best item in the room, hands down. I mean, who would pass up the opportunity to literally get to spy on a portion of another player's quiz, let alone the one who just got executed! Hello, that's practically solid intel as to who's not the Mole, because whoever they're putting answers towards clearly isn't guilty for them to have escaped execution. Better yet if it's the final question I get the scoop on.
Peach slipped the blindfold off somewhat cautiously, somewhat distressed by the avenue through which she had arrived to her quiz-taking room. Needless to say, abductions of any kind left a nasty taste for her. "Where to begin," she muttered to herself, taking a deep breath before beginning with a trophy case nearby.
Peach: It's expected of a princess to live a lifestyle that is deemed respectable by others. So naturally, my predisposition towards being well-regarded by the others in the group would be to repay them with a selfless action. But the mentality of a player would be to take no prisoners when it comes to grabbing the best advantage to better my own game. So needless to say, I was torn in that moment.
"A money bag should be easier to detect than a plaque, after all," Peach reasoned as she opened up the trophy cups to inspect their hollowed insides. Sure enough, the first item she stumbled upon happened to be one of the four fatal money bags, resting within a bronze trophy. Seeing this, Peach's face sank.
"No, Peach, you know where it is now," she reassured herself, forcing herself to step away from the case. "I haven't claimed anything yet; I can always come back to the money if nothing else pops up." Self-control re-established, the political figure quickly moved on to investigating elsewhere, pausing before the two shower stalls.
"Well, as indecent and unhygienic as this may be...it can't be ignored as a logical hiding spot." Shaking away any jitters of disgust, Peach swung open one of the shower curtains, instantly finding a green plaque taped to the shower rod. Not wanting to risk exposure to any athlete's foot fungus, she craned her neck inside the stall to read the label:
1 JOKER
"Hm. If that's all that's being offered, five thousand coins might be more worthwhile," Peach remarked. Before convincing herself to return to the trophy case, she glanced at the clock beside the laptop, comforted to know that she had not dillydallied for too long.
"Let's try and find one more item," she compromised, briefly scanning the room before settling on the bed in the corner. Cautiously, the princess sifted through some of the sheets before her eyes were drawn to the pillow. Lifting it gently, she proceeded to palpate the plush headrest, before her hands pressed on something sharper than cotton. Thankful for her gloved hands, she reached inside the pillowcase and withdrew another plaque-one whose label piqued her interest:
CLUE TO THE MOLE'S IDENTITY
"Now that's more like it," Peach said with a smile. She quickly proceeded to the laptop computer with her newfound prize, not even giving a second glance to the five thousand coins resting in the trophy cup.
2.) In the Happy Travels mission, what group was the Mole in?
A. TRAVEL SAVVY
B. TRAVEL LEISURE
C. TRAVEL NIGHTMARE
FLASHBACK: "Um...dearie, could you hand me the fanny pack?" Ms. Mowz asked Dimentio, alerting the magician to stand upright. (Camera shows the players' shocked faces when they realize the fanny pack is missing)
Peach: If anything was savvy about our group today, it may as well have been the Mole's sabotage. But which of the three? Goombella's plan with the tram, which easily racked up mileage on the pedometer? Ms. Mowz's abnormal carelessness in guarding our spending cash? Or Dimentio's arrogance in refusing to correct a travel method he knew would fail from the get go?
Back in the Glitz Pit, the anxiety swirling around the table was heavy enough to strip the oxygen away from many of the players. Following Mamar's abrupt seizure, no one at the table had raised much conversation; instead, the focus was on consolidating any final notes, knowing now that they could be snatched up at any moment. The other focus was the dreadful anticipation with each disappearing player that their evaluation by the others became lower and lower.
"We should formulate some sort of plan," Goombella proposed, thus breaking the silence. "This is an active mission, is it not? And if twenty thousand coins are at stake, I think it'd be appropriate, right here and now, to decide the four who will make the sacrifice and grab the money." Some nodded understandingly, though it was difficult to interpret whose were made more out of hesitant discomfort.
"But what if someone before us has already snagged a money bag?" Ms. Mowz asked in response. "I could very well see someone like Peach acting out of her own good nature. How destructive would it be to search aimlessly for a bag which no longer exists?"
"Ah, but let's not forget, it's already self-destructive to be searching for the money in the first place," Dimentio described, arms folded. "I'd rather not be the sacrificial lamb who offers up his prized wool to the group before being led to the slaughterhouse." Listening to his graphic analogy was enough to make Sushie wince.
Vinny huffed. "Well, I wouldn't say dere's any lambs in dis bunch," he said sternly, making it clear to Nastasia that he was staring at her, "so I suggest we nominate dem. How's about dose who ranked da lowest make an offer of good faith ta da group? Da road ta redemption of sorts."
"Subtlety is not your strong suit," Nastasia said in a near whisper. "Just try not to choke when you find yourself forced to remove the foot from your mouth later on." The two shared in a brief moment of extra tension that nobody bothered to intervene with.
"I may as well be forthright," came the voice of Koover. "It really doesn't matter to me where any of you ranked me, and I'm happy to forgive if it happens I'm at the bottom. But given my undesirable plight I'm entering into this quiz with, I have a request to make." He paused so as to scan the attentive faces around him.
"I am refusing, outright, to take the five thousand coins," he explained softly. "And for anybody that enters the room before I do, if you stumble across an exemption somewhere, I expect you to leave it for me to discover. For myself." It didn't take much time for his demands to meet almost immediate backlash.
"Now doesn't that sound outrageous?" Pennington cried out, almost appalled at what had been proposed. "Your trifling generosity by no means merits you the throne upon which to make atrocious demands of the rest of the group. Even if your quiz score puts you in jeopardy!"
"By all means, take the soapbox," Koover calmly responded. "And clarify to the crowd all the times you've been Captain Teamwork, before fulminating against individual gameplay." Pennington paused for a moment, his words never quite reaching audibility.
Pennington: He was absolutely correct. But not in the manner in which any cockiness can be allotted. Everyone keeps proposing this rather trifling philosophy that the best technique for defeating the Mole is to stand in arms defiantly as a group. Rubbish. The Mole's greatest weapon is their ability to distract these lovely people into believing that they need to be prioritizing their ability to cooperate as some fluid, collective machine, rather than playing purely individualistically and keeping one's observations confidential. It shouldn't take an improbably large brain to recognize that.
"I think it's safe to conclude that we have no volunteers in this group," Ms. Mowz remarked plainly but honestly. "It'll be up to our own moral and situational reflection to pick up that money." No sooner had the words left her lips did the doors to the Glitz Pit swing open once more, heading straight in the direction of the Squeek.
"Bon voyage!" she bade farewell, managing to blow a kiss before the blindfold shielded her vision. Silence fell on the players as the fourth predetermined quiz-taker was led away.
"Hey, everything okay?" Goombella asked, somewhat concernedly as she noticed Sushie's face sink into her chest. The Cheep Cheep closed her eyes, the look of fear easy to recognize.
"I just don't want to be last."
Ms. Mowz: Hm hm hm! Seems I've cast a charm on enough gentleman here to be granted such an esteemed ranking among the players! A job well done, if I say so myself.
"Let's begin," she said calmly, her nose immediately twitching after her vision was permissibly restored. Expectantly, the odors of sweat-stained clothing articles were immediately overwhelming for one with such astute olfaction, though the unpleasantness was no distraction from her swifts strides to comb through these new surroundings.
"Oh please, at least make a woman work for her dinner," Ms. Mowz mocked, quickly discovering a small plaque tucked behind the corner of a broken mirror. Reading its label required her to stand on her tiptoes and crane her neck:
MINUS ONE FOR ANOTHER PLAYER
"Hm. A rather meager reward for malice, I should think," she deduced, prompt to dismiss the uncovered reward. After a quick surveillance of the sink (and even quicker of the toilet), Bree sashayed across the room, playfully opening all of the shower curtains in the process.
"One joker?" she asked, almost amusedly as she located the same prize Peach had detected in her earlier exploration. "Well, be it positive or negative, the producers are hardly whipping out a prized heifer."
Ms. Mowz: For a skilled badge-hunter like myself, I've sharpened my snooping skills so much that even the most elusive of badges hardly put up an evasive challenge. And if I've discovered anything as I've built up my career, it's that the rarest treasures require the most patience and tenacity to uncover. I had every opportunity to locate any of the money bags carelessly scattered throughout that room; but why ought to when I can guarantee myself the juiciest of rewards?
"Oh hush," Ms. Mowz said playfully to the laptop which continued to count down the seconds since her search had begun. Without any concern, Ms. Mowz swung open locker doors, taking only a matter of seconds to brush through any objects inside. Unfazed by the lack of success, she wasted no time moving on to the trophy case, giving each a quick shakedown before moving onto the next.
"Who am I kidding," she said with a laugh. "I'm just putting on a show. Don't think I've already noticed that overturned tile." She wagged her finger at no one in particular, inviting the dust bunnies perhaps to follow her to investigate the deformity in the floor. In one effortless motion, her fingers had knocked over the tile and plucked her new prize:
3 JOKERS
"These should come in handy," she mused, replacing the tile before plopping herself beside the fateful laptop. But as she typed her name with one hand, the other tucked away the three orange tokens into her shoe, rather than on the table to be implemented.
Ms. Mowz: Living dangerously is simply my style. And as a wise fellow once told me, you don't focus on the risks. You focus on the results. So let's gamble a bit.
3.) Which best describes the actions of the Mole in the Happy Travels mission?
A. ARRIVED TO ROGUEPORT STATION ON TIME
B. ARRIVED TO ROGUEPORT STATION ON TIME AT THE COST OF 5000 COINS
C. ARRIVED LATE TO ROGUEPORT STATION, ACCEPTED PENALTY FOR 2000 COINS
D. ARRIVED LATE TO ROGUEPORT STATION, REJECTED PENALTY AT COST OF 2000 COINS
FLASHBACK: "With the agreement of three of you, that cost shall be served out as a minus one and thirty seconds." (Camera shows the nods of Mamar, Nastasia, and Koover)
Ms. Mowz: Four players, and four very different reactions towards redeeming their performances during Happy Travels. Mamar's naive selflessness and Vinny's comical obstinacy hardly come as characteristic surprises. Koover's failed assertiveness shows more handsome wit then anything else. But Nastasia? Now that's a suspicious metamorphosis.
It took a matter of milliseconds for Koover to comply with the intercom's instructions. The Koopa was already frenetically overturning the room before the blindfold even had time to reach the floor.
"Here's hoping for that exemption," he muttered to himself as he carelessly began to rip off the bedsheets to no avail. Without delay, the locker doors were flung open one by one, again failing to produce any benefactory item.
"Darn it!" Koover shouted in frustration, forcefully slamming the last locker door shut. The hair on his neck rose as he heard the sound of glass cracking from behind the locker, and he cringed in realization that someone's glass hand mirror had shattered at the expense of his powerful outburst.
Koover: Regret does something very funny to your mind. I'm normally your typical, docile Koopa, but when the clock's ticking and the adrenaline starts pumping when you realize the peril for execution you brought upon yourself...you can start to act a bit careless. Needless to say, that was not my finest hour.
"Deep breath now," Koover encouraged himself in an effort to coach his own breathing. "You were the fifth person to enter this room. There's gotta be something worth grabbing somewhere left in this room." Somewhat reassured, he proceeded more steadily towards a row of boxing mats rolled up in the corner. His eyes widened as he noticed one roll appear to have a larger lump than any of the others around it, but the disappointment settled when its unrolling only revealed a money bag.
"To think I'd actually be bummed to see five thousand coins sitting in front of me," he chuckled as he prepared to roll the mat back up. His fingers paused, however, as he floated a new idea in his head.
Koover: The host only mentioned that if we were to grab an item in the room and move around with it, that item would be ours by default. He made no interdiction, however, against leaving the item in a more detectable state than when we found it.
"Hopefully if I don't grab you, someone else now might," Koover said while carefully sliding the boxing mat out from underneath the bag. Then, rather than rolling the mat back up with the moneybag inside, he propped the mat up behind the bag, leaving it on clear display from many angles in the room.
"Now to find something that can keep me alive," he uttered nervously as he continued to investigate the exercise equipment situated nearby. With a little more difficulty than his fitness would have liked him to admit, he hoisted some of the weighted barbells out of the way to prod around at the dumbbells scattered on the floor. When he hoisted one kettle weight, however, he was surprised to see a small green plaque taped to the bottom:
3 JOKERS
"Wow," he muttered, almost in disbelief. "That's not an exemption, but that's definitely security. And with the clock ticking, I'll take it." The Koopa was quick to scoop up both the plaque and the three orange discs attached to it and dash back towards the computer. Without hesitation, Koover placed two of the tokens on the desk. The third hovered above the others momentarily before being relocated to his pocket. With flexed fingers, he typed in his name.
4.) What did the Mole have for dinner on the first night in Glitzville?
A. AVOCADO PROSCIUTTO
B. CHAMPION'S SURPRISE
C. ESCARGOT
D. KAMAMESHI
E. PULLED PORK ENCHILADAS
F. SHROOM STEAK SPECIAL
G. SPAGHETTI PEPERONCINO
FLASHBACK:"You had me sold at steak," Goombella declared, already setting down her menu as the waiter jotted down her order.
Koover: It's the tiniest detail that's been bothering me all afternoon. Goombella's swiftness to order the Shroom Steak special-which none of us could have known would prompt a hidden mission-landed her in the hot seat to control the distribution of ten thousand coins. But I like Goombella, and I want to trust her. Is she actually too smart for her own good, though?
It took Pennington more than a few moments to process the new environment he had been immersed in. Fumbling to grab his magnifying glass, the detective surveyed the locker room. However, panic began to set in: as much as he wanted to divert his attention away from the laptop a mere ten feet away, the ascending seconds had him frozen.
Pennington: That blasted quiz. It's that blasted quiz that's already promoting signature symptoms of insomnia, and-only to be admitted in confession-anxiety. Some anxiety. Completely natural, totally controlled quiz-taking anxiety. Anxiety that, as a detective, I've certainly overcome countless times throughout my illustrious career.
"A cruel joke, that is," the Bumpty harrumphed, examining the ticking clock rather frustratedly, "to give no forewarning to the precise moment when one is to participate in one of the most fateful questionnaires of their life." While complaining to himself, he circled the table, kicking a medicine ball into the corner in a surprisingly powerful but almost childish maneuver.
"This is a distraction," Pennington deduced proudly, finally turning away from the computer. "It's not the seconds that matter, but the points. I'm after the improvement of my own tally. Yes, exactly!" Having reassured himself, he distanced himself even further away from the laptop, heading instead to peruse through a stack of magazines on one of the weight benches.
Pennington paused and about-faced. His eyes were glued to the ascending numbers once more.
Seconds later, he was situated in the chair, clicking through answers on the monitor.
Pennington: But of course! This was all one grand ruse to try and distract us from the one thing of upmost priority in this game: that of course, being the accuracy of the quiz! And the more one tapdances around that computer, the more likely memories of sabotage are to fade from thought, or worse, inclinations of doubt about the Mole's identity overpower clear reasoning. Aha! Surely this is how one outsmarts the saboteur!
5.) What best describes the activity of the Mole on the first night in Glitzville?
A. ATTENDED THE MAJOR LEAGUE MATCH
B. ATTENDED THE MINOR LEAGUE MATCH
C. DID NOT ATTEND EITHER MATCH FULLY
FLASHBACK: "Um...I think I'm going to head back to our room actually," Sushie said in a somewhat dismayed tone, brushing past Goombella to exit the Minor League match.
Pennington: Nope. I am simply allowing myself to consider all of the facts and let those lead me to a conclusion, not my emotions. Is it suspicious Sushie did not stay the full time? Yes. Dare I speculate her motivations further? Not...at this time.
Six empty chairs surrounded a wide table within the monumental arena. Also scattered across the stage were five silent individuals, none of whom spoke to one another, instead trapped with the understanding that, given their current size, they represented the latter half of the group in terms of likability.
Goombella: Why was I still seated there? I have not done anything on the level of these other players to warrant me being stuck at the bottom. I mean, seriously? I know Nastasia and Vinny have rubbed enough people the wrong way, but I was not expecting this. I began to give up caring about the possible prizes I was missing out on by ranking closer to the end, but that kind of casual awareness definitely wears away at your self-esteem a bit.
"Five little Indians," Dimentio hummed in a sportive tune. He chuckled at his own success as Nastasia rolled her eyes from across the table. "Five little Indians, on a cellar door. One tumbled in and-"
"Please, stop," Nastasia requested lightly, her head turned away from the jester. "And let it be known that I did say please."
"I imagine dat word doesn't frequent your vocabulary," Vinny chimed in. The Pianta was passing the time away by attempting to balance a spoon on the tip of his rather sizable nose. Sushie, meanwhile, watched the unfolding scene, somewhat appalled but too wrapped up in her own thoughts to comment.
"I didn't anticipate the Mole would have us stoop this low," she said softly, her lip noticeably quivering. "This game, it's format...it's hideous."
"Don't be too quick to apportion all of the blame on the Mole now," Dimentio cooed. "Remember, only ten percent of your placement was determined by their list. The other ninety percent belongs to the innocent individuals who decided to be as heartless."
"Shut up already." Nastasia's voice had escalated a surprising amount, transforming from a plea to a demand. "Just shut up. The drama you try and stir up is not a comical act; you manipulate their emotions for your own personal amusement, and it's disgusting." Stunned by her own vigor of speech, the secretary quickly sat back down, though her words had clearly resonated with the other four at the table.
Silence ensued, broken up only by the violent swinging of doors produced by the Glitz Pit Security. To Sushie's relief, they were coming to retrieve her.
Sushie: It's embarrassing! And disheartening, really! All I try to do is present myself as the genuine Sushie to everyone I come across. I'm already disadvantaged due to the generational gap, but even still, I had imagined I was making great relational strides with these people. But when you just sit there longer through each rotation, that difficult realization becomes even harder to swallow. And all while I'm having an emotional crisis, I'm supposed to take a quiz?
Even though the blindfold had not obstructed her vision in any way, Sushie found herself gasping for breath after the security guards had dismissed themselves. "Focus, Sushie," she directed towards herself. "Remember why you're here." Her eyes immediately turned towards her quiz clock, which wasn't slowing down out of sympathy for her.
"The time crunch does nothing to aid one's heart palpitations," she joked lightly, throwing her blindfold to the ground. Remembering that she was on the hunt for in-game rewards, the Cheep Cheep regained composure through one deep breath and began her search.
"Oh, that was quick!" she exclaimed, having noticed the item attached to the shower rod of the first stall she inspected. "But only one joker? Am I that late to the game that none of the good prizes remain?" Her head sank somewhat as she again began to find more reasons to be disappointed in that moment. As she turned around from the shower stall, however, one object in the room stuck out like a sore thumb.
Sushie: How could anybody have missed that? That money bag was practically begging to be picked up by someone! I mean, it wasn't even concealed or anything, just out in the open, resting nicely besides some yoga mats. The next, more alarming occurrence to cross my mind was that, if nobody before me had picked up an unmissable bag of money, then most likely nobody before me had prioritized our pot at all.
"Hmph. Typical me to have to bend over backwards for this group," she bemoaned while hovering over the moneybag on the floor. She could practically detect the coinage inside, as though suddenly gifted with X-ray vision.
"Hopefully this'll make me quicker to favor." Sushie marched back towards the desktop computer, more triumphantly as she toted her selection of five-thousand coins, which she placed on the table next to her before proceeding to log on:
6.) In what order did the Mole answer Blue's phone call today?
A. FIRST
B. SECOND
C. THIRD
D. FOURTH
E. FIFTH
F. SIXTH
G. SEVENTH
H. EIGHTH
I. NINTH
J. TENTH
K. ELEVENTH
Sushie: Oh, enough moping over myself. It's time to consider something: whoever the Mole is, they want to be well-liked by the others. It's the best deception tactic they could pull off, really: build such strong rapport with the group that their mishaps are quickly forgiven because it's in their good character to deserve forgiveness, rather than speculation. So as unpleasant as this mission was to participate in, perhaps it served to expose more than just a popularity contest.
"Finally," Goombella said in annoyance, happy that it was finally her turn to be invited to the quiz-taking room. "Eighth chosen. Eight. Guess that makes me the ringleader of the lowly-bodies then, huh?"
Goombella: Yeah, it was immature of me to act like that, but I had to vent my frustration out somehow. The hidden blessing in me getting fired up is that it fueled my search speed. No corner of that locker room was getting past me, not when I was searching for some sweet satisfaction.
"Jokers, jokers, come out to play," Goombella called out, as if her words would coax the sacred gems out of their hiding spots. "Maybe an advantage? Or an undiscovered exemption, perhaps? Maybe some money, though I'm afraid I'm not feeling to generous right about now." After mentally laying out a dig site of sorts, the archaeologist began sweeping the room in a clockwise fashion, beginning with a rack of magazines which sat beside the entryway. To her pleasant surprise, a quick removal of the stack revealed the location of three items situated at the bottom, included a green plaque which read:
2 JOKERS
"Dang, that's not a shabby find," Goombella remarked, deeply considering taking the two orange tokens into her possession. "But it's poor technique to just abandon a search after one artifact: not if there's better treasures to be unearthed."
With the magazines returned, the U Goom grad continued her rotational search of the room. After inspecting a few scattered clothing articles littered on the floor, Goombella had arrived at the only bed in the room, though her particular interest was with a blue boombox which poked out from underneath. Curiously, she pulled out the portable stereo and popped open the disc cover. Unsurprisingly, there was a disc inside. But this disc was solid black, and was juxtaposed with another pivotal green plaque:
BLACK EXEMPTION
Goombella: At first, my face lit up, but then I noticed the descriptive adjective, and I again was like...oh my gosh.
"A black exemption," Goombella read aloud from the words on the card. "To be played at any point before the final four. Can be activated by handing to the host before the execution ceremony commences. When activated, any exemptions, jokers, point additions or penalties applied to any players on that quiz...will thereby be disqualified." Her eyes widened and her heart began to race as she considered the weight of these words.
Goombella: It's no exemption, but boy, it could be just as powerful. The potential to negate everybody's point advantages-including an exemption, which should grant someone execution immunity, all with a simple, straightforward choice? That would totally take everyone for surprise, and if played right, could send somebody who thought they were sitting comfortably straight out of this game. It sound so devious...but perhaps I need to dance that dotted line a little if I want to advance to the end.
"It'll be our little secret," Goombella said to her new prize, tucking the black token underneath her headlamp for added security. "Until I find the opportune time to unleash the beast, I suppose." Cheered up by her successful search, she skipped back towards the computer, smiling as she confirmed her decision to begin:
7.) Does the Mole have an odd or even journal number?
A. ODD
B. EVEN
"Dat was unusual," Vinny chuckled uncomfortably after hearing the all-clear to toss aside his blindfold. "Typically I'm the one who's used ta dishing out da man-handling."
Vinny: Ta be completely honest, I could care less where I stand with da others. It's strictly a game, and I'm a brick wall in more ways den one. You have ta be when you're in my line of work. I can't even tell you for certain how far back in da list I was before I stepped foot in dat room, but I can tell ya for certain how happy I was ta know who was still sitting back in da Glitz Pit.
"Let's make dis as painless as possible," he mused, perhaps more lightheartedly than he ought to have given the time crunch. "Dere's probably little left ta be found, after all, so better ta be thorough I guess." He faced the bed, which subconsciously triggered him to yawn. With a shrug, he opened up the bottom drawer of the nightstand, which revealed a money bag, exposed by some previously but yet to be claimed.
"Tch, fat chance," Vinny laughed, happily slamming the drawer shut. "I'll leave da goodwill actions ta someone who needs dem, like Natty." He looked around the room, as if he were waiting for validation from someone else-obviously, to no avail.
Vinny: Well...maybe it does stink. A little bit. But like I said, it's not about da friends. Not when dere's money on da line.
"Alright, what next," he mumbled, moving on to the stack of lockers beside the wall. The one which quickly caught his attention was propped open by an athletic bag, which instinctively he knelt down to unzip and inspect.
"Three minutes added," he read with disappointment. "Hopefully dere's something a little more optimistic then that." The plaque was once again returned to its compartment as the Pianta sighed, somewhat frustrated by this less than hopeful outlook. But he persisted, and continued to work his way around the room in search of something-anything-that could possibly offer more benefit.
The seconds began to add up. Soon enough, several minutes had elapsed, and still Vinny found himself brushing aside hand weights and jerseys, the clock bearing his quiz time failing to phase him.
Vinny: It occurred ta me dough, dat I was feeling something. What's da opposite of inspiration? Demotivation, maybe? Dat even dough I knew I was wasting precious seconds, somehow dat thought failed ta bother me.
"Let's give you a shot," Vinny huffed, working his way from his corner of the room towards a treadmill. "Maybe I'd actually fire ya up if I were still dat high school track star." Then he grinned, thinking about the reflective conversation at the dinner table just hours before regarding that very topic. His eyes surveyed the top of the conveyor portion while his hands clutched underneath, a bit of elation emerging when his fingers clutched something that clearly did not belong:
1 JOKER
"Hey, I reckon I'll take anything at dis point," he said resurgently, tossing the single token in the air and finally taking the necessary steps towards the computer. Something about his elapsed time caught him by alarm, and the joker was quickly applied towards the quiz for his own self-security.
8.) In what season was the Mole born?
A. SPRING
B. SUMMER
C. FALL
D. WINTER
Two remained. It was appropriate for these two individuals to be situated at opposite ends of the table, symbolic of combatants at opposite ends of the very ring upon which they were present. One of them had let their guard down, staring into the empty crowds as if searching for some sort of escape. This distraction allowed the other the perfect chance to pounce.
"What do you want?" Nastasia asked quietly, visibly bothered by Dimentio's decision to plop down in the seat across from her. "If you're looking for a quick jab, I'm really not worth your time."
"Aw, lighten up a little!" Dimentio teased, his voice carrying a playful tone. "You should be proud to be sitting here still! Isn't it in our blood to be villains?"
Nastasia: Something had been eating away at me, like some sort of termite that had been there even before I entered into this game. I hadn't anticipated that it would grow to the extent which it did, and I'm ashamed to admit that it had...but now was time to squash it. Once and for all.
"You really are heartless, aren't you," she stated somberly. The jovial expressions of the jester's face tapered off, much to Nastasia's relief as she found herself using every second to register her thoughts.
"No, but you are though," she continued. "You must be, surely, to have turned your back against me...the Count...all of us, the way that you did."
"Now Natty, I thought that was ancient history!" Dimentio said somewhat defensively. "What right do you have to overflow those memory reservoirs when I'm happy to leave that water under the bridge where it belongs." To his alarm, Nastasia shot out from her chair, her glasses falling off her face in the process. The passion of her upcoming words was made clear when she refused to retrieve them.
"I trusted you," Nastasia announced with an uncharacteristic boldness. "I trusted you, perhaps more than I should have, that even despite the silly faces and tricks and jokes, that I knew the real Dimentio. And I cared about that Dimentio, until it turned out he was just another made-up charade." She quickly reached for her glasses to cover up her face, but failed to conceal what Dimentio was already witnessing: she was crying.
"And when I realized that Dimentio I knew wasn't coming back, I tried to move on," she explained, pausing through sniffles. "I packed my bags. Found a way to put my secretarial skills to good use, somewhere, anywhere else. Figured I just needed time and distance for my psyche to repair. Hey, even applied for this game. Can't trust anybody, right? Suited me perfectly." She leaned back in bewilderment, careful to process each thought before vocalizing the next.
"You may not be the traitor of this game," she said softly, "but you're a traitor in every way that matters." At that very moment, the doors leading to the Glitz Pit burst open, the penultimate occurrence for that evening. Dimentio said nothing, continuing to stare at the girl who would not reciprocate any eye contact. Instead, she simply polished her glasses, while behind her a magician was blindfolded and removed from his chair.
Seconds later, the boom of closing doors echoed thunderously throughout the arena. And then there was one.
Dimentio: Surprises...are dishes best served but not received. Usually I'm the backdoor chef whipping out the most scandalous appetizers I can prepare, all for the pleasure of seeing the reactions of a happy customer. But very rarely does the customer come back into the kitchen and throw their humble pie back in your face. Alas, sometimes you have to wipe off your face a little. Because at the end of the day, I still have my cookbook of tricks, and the customer's next step...is heading out the door.
"What a chaotic room," Dimentio chuckled, sizing up the quiz layout for the first time. "Fortunately, I function best in chaos."
He chortled to himself as he skipped around the room, carelessly past the laptop which had already begun to tick away against him. Realizing that fewer prizes for him remained as the tenth participant in this unusual challenge, he set his expectations low, though already began to calculate which areas of the room he would disrupt first.
"Master of dimensions, pleaser of crowds..." he sang to himself as he scooped up a pile of unfinished laundry and carelessly tossed it in the air. He smiled at this semi-destructive accomplishment, even though it failed to turn up any items of use to him.
"Nastasia calls me a traitor," he declared in a singsong fashion. "And Parakarry called me a hotshot. Didn't bode favorably for him, unfortunately."
Dimentio: A magician never reveals his tricks, but if this is a confessional, then I suppose you all can be my confidants. I always draw in an audience: it's one of my greatest achievements. But never before have I been as proud of such a resume-builder as in this very game we're playing. Why? Because while all eyes are locked on me, I'm the only one left with mine locked on the Mole.
"If I'm going to play each of these roles well, then certainly I must look the part," he reasoned jokingly. This consideration led him to investigate the mirror, which in addition to rendering the jester's reflection, also rendered a particular item of interest behind its frame:
MINUS ONE FOR ANOTHER PLAYER
"Hm. That is fascinating," Dimentio analyzed, the demeanor sobering somewhat as he contemplated the prize's potential. "Imagine the kind of control that might give me to sway the others." The opportunity of a power position kindled his interest, and in a flash the plaque's new home was within the jester's hands.
"But it'll have to be an encore performance," he explained as he kept the reward in his lap. For the second quiz at least, such a handicap would not be applied by him.
9.) At dinner tonight, from Blue's perspective, where was the Mole sitting from me?
A. LEFT
B. RIGHT
C. DIRECTLY ACROSS
Dimentio: Emotions have risen moderately high at various points before tonight, but this mission has brought us to climax. Perhaps this execution will provide an epiphany to us all about the urgency to prevent their interference.
"Player, remove your blindfold."
Her fingers trembled somewhat as she untied the cloth which had been pressing against her glasses. Aside from the flickering light bulb, the first object within her field of vision was the laptop computer and the quiz clock, preset to thirty seconds to reflect the handicap she had willingly embraced for herself the day before. But for her, the biggest grievance belonged to something else.
Nastasia: I was last.
"Well, here we are," she said with a nervous grin. "Guess it's time to get cracking...mkay."
Nastasia: But I was anticipating it. It's funny how in the course of only five days, you can dig yourself such a hole that's perhaps too deep to crawl out of effectively. Maybe even too deep for someone to want to toss down a rope, lend you the opportunity to climb, with guidance. But if it was my hole to dig, then it's my hole to fill. And slowly but surely, I'll work to rid myself of this dirt until I've got enough that the hatchet can perhaps finally be buried.
"Focus now," she encouraged herself as she meandered throughout the room. "You've got a minus one to repair. Focus on fixing that." She sighed in disappointment, considering that her recovery options were certainly harder to come by. Her first movements involved lifting a sweat-laden towel, which she quickly dropped out of repulsion. After re-controlling her breathing, Nastasia ventured deeper into the room, then drew back closer to the bed. Her fingertips danced across the pillow with greater reservation, before soon retreating to readjust her own glasses.
"Come on, Nastasia...you've gotta commit now." Guided by her own self-reassurance, Nastasia began to progressively open up the drawers of the nearby shelving unit. Awaiting her at the bottom, of course, was a money bag: commonly discovered, but yet to be claimed.
"Typical us," she smirked, equating the presence of the bag to the cohesiveness of the group as a whole. "Sadly, I do actually need a security blanket for tonight." Once more the drawer was shut, and Nastasia proceeded elsewhere, her fingers gliding across surfaces as she walked. This soon led to an exploration of the magazine rack near the entrance, which her fingers were free to rummage through. Before long, these fingers detected some out of the ordinary objects, which when retrieved, told a completely different story on Nastasia's face:
2 JOKERS
Nastasia: I had a lot of needs that evening. Needs to rekindle relationships with individuals here, obviously, but also the need to stay and fight another day, even through my pre-quiz disadvantage. Taking the jokers could guarantee that I stay in this game...but then again, taking the money might also guarantee the others don't try to take me out. And earlier, I might have entertained that thought. But I'm no stranger to tough challenges, or tough circumstances. Someway, somehow...I'll find a way to rise.
The secretary had made her decision. Whatever she had retrieved from the locker room was currently resting on the table in front of her, though outside the vantage point of the camera. Slowly but accurately, Nastasia found herself clicking her way through the quiz, until she found herself face to face with the final question. One that ten individuals could only answer out of conjecture, and only one out of confidence:
10.) Who is the Mole?
A. ANDY
B. BREE
C. DIMENTIO
D. GOOMBELLA
E. KOOVER
F. MAMAR
G. NASTASIA
H. PEACH
I. PENNINGTON
J. SUSHIE
K. VINNY
The lights had flickered for the propelling city. The spotlights scanning the dome of the Glitz Pit had been shut off-all light, in fact, had been dimmed to reflect the hour. As the time crept into the wee hours of the morning, the noise and enthusiasm so commonplace to Glitzville had disappeared altogether. On that night, the only sounds around town came from the soft whirls of the propellers themselves...and from the footsteps of eleven individuals against the cobblestone plaza.
"Welcome, players," Blue extended as all eleven filed into two rows of chairs. "Across many tense hours, you have all completed the second quiz on the Mole's identity. The results have all been calculated, and tonight, the lowest scorer will become the second player executed." After everyone had settled in, the host pivoted the focus towards another question looming on the minds of the players.
"As you all were made painfully aware, the circumstances surroundings your second execution were...unorthodox, to say the least." This commentary drew many affirmations from the group, some laced with more grievance than others.
"Each one of you had the opportunity, as your quiz clock ticked away, to make either a selfish or selfless decision. Some of you chose to seek advantages for yourselves, adding stability to your current quiz, and perhaps your future game play." A pause.
"It cannot be forgotten, however, that in addition to your quiz-taking, a mission was actively afoot," Blue reminded them. "One worth twenty thousand coins, assuming four of you stepped off your pedestals and risked your own vulnerability to prioritize the group. A group divided, it would appear. But not solely by the Mole: divided by each and every one of you." Some grew antsier as a consequence of this wordage.
"Those rankings of one another you relayed to me this afternoon by telephone," he explained, "were used to determine the ultimate order in which each one of you took the questionnaire. For those individuals you held in the highest esteem, were rewarded with an earlier selection of prizes, and the boost to their self-esteem that came as a result." His eyes landed on Mamar, who nodded understandingly, yet grew uncomfortable in anticipation of the host's next words.
"And those individuals you regarded less cordially, found themselves facing a more meager spread of choices...all the while wrestling with a new internal turmoil...that in your eyes, they were the lowest of the lows." In a gesture of bizarre courtesy, Blue chose not to direct attention to any one individual through his own stare, though the players found themselves doing so anyway, guilt ridden across their faces.
Peach: This mission was designed to destroy us from the get go. How horrible it must feel to be informed that you're at the bottom of a social hierarchy. No, that's not the best way to describe ourselves. Not if we're seeking ways to heal moving forward, at least...
"But you all have been through enough turmoil tonight," Blue said, in a goodwill gesture to alleviate the animosity, if slightly. "I'll proceed directly to the results of the mission you just played." Both hands reached into their respective coat pockets, each withdrawing a bag worth five thousand coins.
"Would the rescuers of these two bags step forward please, and claim their prize before the group?" Heads turned to scan for the individuals responsible for adding money to the pot. Sushie didn't hesitate to jump up from her chair, marching around the others to stand beside the host. Seconds later, another rose, prompting the amazement of many.
"Nastasia?" Goombella mouthed in surprise as she watched the secretary juxtapose herself beside the nanny.
"By retrieving a money bag from the group and leaving behind personal rewards, each one of you has added five thousand coins to the pot," Blue explained, nodding to both of the ladies beside him. "Would either one of you like to explain your motivations before the others?"
"I can start," Sushie began confidently, her fins already crossed. "After suffering from the temporary humiliation that I'm not as well liked as I had previously thought, I entered the room fully expecting to find anything that would save my tail. So of course, I immediately stumble across a money bag lying in the middle of the floor, not even concealed or anything. So I reached the alarming conclusion that everyone before me must have deliberately bypassed it, and so decided it was on my shoulders not to make this mission a complete failure." She sighed, scanning through the crowd of players in expectation of applause, perhaps.
"Well, we're all grateful that you did, Sushie," Pennington encouraged her, tipping his hat off in gratitude. "I'm glad you were lucky enough to have stumbled upon it then." From the row behind him, Koover found himself more fixated on the detective's actions.
Koover: The bag of money that Sushie retrieved was clearly the one I had left out on display. But Sushie wasn't my direct predecessor to enter that room, because Pennington arrived at our waiting area first. And if Sushie confirmed that the bag was unmissable, that means Pennington would have had to deliberately choose not to collect it.
"Lucky indeed," Blue affirmed. "And as for you, Nastasia?" Everyone in the group directed their attention to the secretary, who instinctively froze up on the spot. With some encouragement from the host, however, the words began to come out.
"Consider it...step one," she explained, clearing the lump in her throat. "No surprise to anyone here, I'm sure, but I was the last one to participate in the mission tonight. And that was...humbling, to say the least." She stepped aside for a moment and began to reach for her glasses, which had become a reflex of sorts for whenever she was in an uncomfortable situation. But before she could, Sushie stopped her, offering her a comforting shoulder of support.
"I realize...that my attitudes need to change," Nastasia continued, appreciative for the warm gesture. "Going into that quiz with a minus one, I was frustrated with everyone. I thought that taking the penalty initially would somehow reverse everything, but obviously it takes more effort than that. Problem is, I'm not sure where best to start. So I figured, maybe I needed to take it a step further, and show you all something...more." Ms. Mowz nodded in understanding, as did a handful of others.
"All in all...I'm sorry. And I hope that I can work towards amending my attitude." She nodded at Blue, affirming that she was finished with her defense, and was promptly dismissed back to her seat along with Sushie.
Mamar: Hearing both Nastasia and Sushie speak nearly broke my heart. Both had the justification to disregard the money just like the rest of us had, yet chose not to because they were hoping it'd strengthen their relationships with the group as a whole. Neither one should have to bend over backwards for the rest of us; Mole or not, we all could benefit from coming together.
"Ladies, thank you," Blue progressed. "Because ten thousand coins were retrieved from the locker room, ten thousand coins will be added to your group pot."
Escaping Execution Results
10000c/20000c
Team Pot
55000c/145000c
"And as for the other nine, you all may or may not have walked out of that execution with a personal advantage in your pocket," he explained, surveying the group collectively. "Some of those prizes may have been applied towards the quiz, while others were hidden away for future implementation. Regardless, the realm of power those advantages might hold will remain a secret to you and you alone. There were no exemptions available this round, so everyone is eligible for elimination." Everyone nodded as they considered what treasures they had chosen for themselves. Time would tell whether the cost for ascendancy in the game would be worth it.
"Nevertheless, we still have an execution ceremony to participate in. With no tie for last place, the player going home is the one who performed the poorest on the quiz. Whenever you are ready, I will begin entering your names into the computer." Eleven pairs of eyes watched helplessly as the host made his way back to the computer, ironic considering how many of them had spent the earlier portion of the evening deviating away from theirs.
"Vinny," Blue began, and immediately the Pianta sat upright in his chair. This was the first time his name would be entered into the computer, and even in spite of his outwardly tough appearance, a hint of worry could be detected through his eyes.
V-I-N-N-Y
ENTER
GREEN
"Look at dat," he said with a grin, happy to survive another day. While the others knew he had evaded penalty from the previous day, none could know that a joker had been applied to his quiz, and Vinny himself could not be certain whether the his screen might have appeared red had he declined either action.
"Goombella," Blue continued, and before the Goomba could process that her name had been called, the host was already entering the letters into the keypad. She bit her lip, glancing up at her cap as she reflected upon the black exemption still in her possession.
G-O-O-M-B-E-L-L-A
ENTER
GREEN
A triumphant smile appeared across her face as she breathed in a sigh of relief. She would live to fight another day in the game.
"Andy." The fighter snapped his fingers and pointed at the host, a signature action he was used to using for crowds when competing in the Glitz Pit. "Andy, are you ready to see your quiz results?"
"We'll pretend like I am," he joked uncomfortably, crossing his fingers as each keystroke grew closer to revealing his fate.
A-N-D-Y
ENTER
GREEN
"Hoo baby," he cheered in relief. The suspense was over for him.
"Koover." Bandy Andy now watched as his coalition partner braced himself for the stressful reveal. The Koopa clasped his hands together, frowning somewhat as the wait time grew longer and longer.
K-O-O-V-E-R
ENTER
GREEN
A simple smile provided a sufficient reaction for Koover, who high-fived the fighter sitting behind him. Both would resume their hunt for the Mole.
"Sushie, would you like to go next?" Blue asked, actually proposing the option for the Cheep Cheep.
"Definitely not," she protested jokingly, but her humor was followed soon after by a more sorrowful tone. "Though I'll never be ready, so may as well cut this lady loose now." Out of condolence, Peach offered her hand for Sushie to hold as she awaited her fate.
S-U-S-H-I-E
ENTER
GREEN
"What? I'm not executed?" Joy erupted from Sushie's voice as she released the tension from Peach's hand, grateful to have encountered a green screen.
"Since it seems appropriate...Nastasia." All eyes turned to the secretary, who unlike the previous ceremony in Flower Fields, was fully fixated on the monitor before her. In a few moments' time, her fate would be revealed.
N-A-S-T-A-S-I-A
ENTER
RED
Silence filled the plaza. In the next few seconds, not a person sitting spoke or moved. Everyone appeared to be in a state of shock, frozen as they watched, except for Nastasia. The bat simply nodded understandingly, the first one present to seem to have embraced the painful truth-the truth that she was the second victim of the Mole.
"Nastasia, if you would please grab your bag and follow me." The host's exit instructions echoed throughout the blimp yard, but were clearly received by the secretary, who promptly rose from her chair to walk out with the host.
"Thank you all," she said, somewhat somberly as she reached her bag, "for all being a part of a major growth factor in my life. Truly, I appreciate it." Though the plaza itself was dimly lit, everyone was perfectly able to detect something out of place about her considering the circumstance. That is, in spite of being executed, Nastasia was smiling.
"What just happened," Goombella muttered in disbelief, watching as both figures disappeared in the distance. The ceremony was over.
"If I may comment, you handled your exit quite gracefully," Blue remarked after he had led Nastasia a far enough distance from the others. "Though I imagine you're wrestling with a whirlwind of emotions right now." Nastasia nodded as the host offered a supportive shoulder, which at first she hesitated to accept.
"Yeah, it's...well, hard to deal with," she explained, removing her glasses to habitually remove a smudge. "But I knew it was coming when I chose not to reverse my minus one."
"Why didn't you, if I may ask?" Blue questioned, his tone nurturing but still interrogative. "It came to my attention that you had discovered two jokers in that locker room, if I'm not mistaken." Nastasia sighed, realizing she would have to relive that moment for the host.
"Yes, that is true," she affirmed softly. "And to be honest, I've been experiencing a whirlwind of emotions all afternoon. I...was everyone's least favorite player, after all." She sniffled, but was quick to conceal it as she covered her eyes back up with her glasses.
"I actually considered self-executing," she admitted, batting her eyelashes repeatedly to fight back what was brimming to the surface. "I figured I had no chance to salvage anything, after all...but when I got to the room, I wanted to keep fighting. Not just for the competition...but for myself. My combat was against my own personal demons as much as it was against the Mole in that moment." At that point, her guard was let down, and the tears began to drop down each cheek.
"I just wanted to show them all that I was willing to change," she explained, embarrassed to be crying but not resisting either. "And now that I'm out...it's probably too late." Normally used to resisting any display of consolation from another person, Nastasia found herself accepting the handkerchief which Blue had produced for her to wipe her eyes with.
"Believe me, it wasn't," he reassured her, allowing her time to let everything out.
The players had been staring at the red screen for an ample amount of time, yet none had mustered the gusto to speak out. Something about this execution had hit them harder than the one before, and it appeared that everyone needed time to process the event for themselves.
"Welp, I was definitely thrown for a loop," Bandy Andy spoke up, disrupting the silence that had swept over them all. "I mean, sure, she had a minus one to deal with, but still..." He stopped, hoping that someone else might finish the sentence for him.
Ms. Mowz nodded. "This execution...it hits heavy, given the disheartening circumstances which preceded it." From behind her, Vinny shook his head, appearing to disagree with the Squeek.
"Good riddance, if you ask me," he said bluntly. "I for one am happy dat she was da one cut loose. Da less brattiness ta go around, da better." Peach's jaw dropped in reaction to his candid statement.
"Unbelievable," she said in disgust, clearly bothered by Vinny's words. "How would you feel if we only offered such choice words to you after you were executed? Especially after all she went through to try and make reparations...before a group she thought would be forgiving enough to accept them." She stopped there, not wanting to let her emotions steer her any further.
"But princess," Dimentio interjected, "while that might be true, she was still clutching onto her dirty laundry pretty tightly...even those articles which she brought with her into this game." He took a reflective pause, careful of the words that followed.
"And, unfortunately for Natty, that was what led to her downfall," he concluded, clasping his hands over his knees as he sat back, content to listen to what the others had to say.
"No...that's not the case." The voice came from Goombella, who continued to stare forwards at the red screen. Of everyone present, she seemed to be the slowest to process the circumstances surrounding that execution.
"No, Peach is right," she continued, her voice quivering somewhat. "We never...I never...gave her the chance. The chance to be accepted...as a player in this group, and as a friend." She glanced over her shoulder, barely able to detect the two shadowed figures far in the distance.
"Nastasia...I'm sorry. For how I treated you."
"I bid you my condolences that your departure occurred under such a dark shadow," Blue solaced as he retrieved his handkerchief from her. "Looking back though, was the overall experience at least fulfilling enough to make up for how you feel right now?" Nastasia didn't hesitate to nod repeatedly.
"Oh, definitely," she affirmed, taking on a more positive tone. "This experience is still unlike any other I've had in my life. And it's given me a lot more confidence in myself."
FLASHBACK: "My glasses!" (Despite the fall, Nastasia gets back up and continues to make her way through the maze)
"You were actually fairly instrumental in adding a lot of money towards the group pot," Blue pointed out, himself being reminded of Nastasia's participation in the missions. "Your performance in the maze individually netted fifteen thousand coins. Add in another five thousand coins from this past mission, and that comes out to twenty thousand coins. Single-handedly, you contributed to over a third of the group's current total!" Hearing this, Nastasia's face began to light up a bit.
"I guess you're right," she said, gaining reassurance. "Maybe I'm not as self-withdrawn as I might appear."
Goombella sighed as she continued to reflect on the individual who had been her adversary in the game. "All this time...she was just trying to find her way in. To belong with us."
FLASHBACK: "Um...I'll, uh, check out the Minor League match with you," came the timid voice of Nastasia, who offered Goombella a weak smile.
"You're certainly correct about that," Pennington chimed in as he reviewed his limited memories with the departed. "And it's truly unfortunate, to watch her try and break that ice, only to be executed. The cruelty of the Mole."
"Whoever the Mole is, she was definitely giving them a run for their money," Mamar mused soberly as she reflected on their van voyage. "I think the evidence will show, but she did fight hard for this group. Just in her own, unique way."
FLASHBACK: "Does that look like a castle to you?" Nastasia smirked, revealing the photograph to Koover and Vinny. (Camera pans to the retrieval of the ticket at Hooktail Castle)
"Perhaps we could have benefited from inviting her voice-and her story-into this group," Koover considered, frowning as reflected on the fallen player. "Nastasia, I hope I get the chance to know the real you, beyond the scope of the drama in this game."
"Why must there be drama though?" Sushie said, almost pleadingly. "Everyone says that finding the Mole is an individual battle, yet when we view the game with from that perspective, our missions and our camaraderie with one another end up suffering." Peach nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with the words of the Cheep Cheep.
"I'd like to make a proposal," the princess dictated, garnering everyone's attention. "May this painful night be a learning lesson for all of us: to never again let us become so divided by the pressures of this game that we lead another player to be made to feel so alienated." Her speech received widespread support from the group: the night had been a bitter pill to swallow, but a healthful one.
Dimentio sighed to himself as his face sunk into his chest. "Boy, did I miss you, Natty..." he whispered inaudibly. And for a rare moment in this game, this statement was not a facade.
"Oh no, not this clunker," Nastasia laughed lightly. The host had led her to a departure vehicle that had proven all but enjoyable: the aging mini-van from the previous day's mission. Turning to the host, the secretary gave her signature eyeroll, though this one was conducted out of a more warm-hearted nature.
"Purely sentimental for the viewers at home, of course," Blue defended, chuckling alongside her. "We obviously wouldn't have you drive off the clouds just to make it out of Glitzville." As they approached the passenger door, Blue paused momentarily, facing Nastasia one final time.
"As you walk away from this experience, do you find yourself taking away any useful life lessons?" Blue asked. Nastasia paused momentarily, caught up in reflection. Despite having been heavily distracted by some of the more painful memories enveloping her gameplay, she found herself fixated more on the positive aspects of the game.
"Quite a few, actually," she replied. "But perhaps what I've learned most is that I have some wounds that need healing, and time is the best medicine I can think of. As hard as this journey has been...perhaps it's actually a blessing in disguise." She shared a smile with Blue, who himself was happy to see her coming to terms with her elimination.
"And if I can grow just as a person in the five days I've been here, then no doubt I can grow when I'm back in an environment where there aren't saboteurs lurking in the shadows." Satisfied with her response, Nastasia was finally ready to depart the chaotic scene of Glitzville and return home.
"Indeed, your growth has been a privilege to watch," Blue said encouragingly as he held the door open for her to step inside. "I look forward to when our paths will cross again." Nastasia nodded at the host, an appropriate affirmation for him to close the door, alerting the driver to start the rusty engine and drive out of distance from the plaza.
From the passenger window, Nastasia looked up at the night sky, pleasantly surprised by the number of stars she could detect from a city usually bursting with light. A pleasurable image for her departure from the game following the elevated atmosphere Glitzville had provided.
Two down. And the Mole was just warming up.
Gaaaaaaah. Hopefully you didn't fall asleep just reading through that mammoth of a chapter. I apologize if that was also a bit more of a dramatic read than you were anticipating, but truthfully, any environment fueled by deception is bound to have its moments of absent warm fuzzies.
Oh, Nastasia. Were you expecting to see her go so early? From what I've gathered, many of you will be pleased by this development. But I do have a soft spot for sassy little bat friend. Like Parakarry, she was always designed to be an early boot, but I wanted to showcase her as more a rounder character, especially since I started off painting her in somewhat of an unfair negative light. But everyone has a heart, and hopefully hers was able to shine a bit in these last few chapters.
BRITTKIP: Aw, I hope your situation has improved since my last update! Thank you as always for your continued support. Also, I'm honored that this is one of your favorite stories to read! I love writing with these characters so much, they start to feel real. And yeah, Pennington is a funny character, in more ways than one.
PRINCESS TOADY: First of all, I'm so sorry that I just tapered off after the third execution of your story! This semester was crazy long for me, and I apologize also that it'll likely be a while before I'm able to get back on track. But I can't wait! Love hearing your insights, as always. I think I enjoy them so much because I imagine you process information very similarly to me, so it's like listening to a second version of myself point out the things that I already know or may have missed out on. And I'm glad that my characters are starting to come across as more dynamic figures!
SHADOW OF DIMENTIO Mamar and Dimentio are safe! (If they were ever really in jeopardy, that is haha) Hopefully Nastasia's elimination was satisfactory enough to close the backstory, even if it was an early departure for her. But luckily, Parakarry still seems to be going strong! :P Thanks for your continued support! I always enjoy your individual character analyses with every review.
THE WISE ZORA: You have your own Mole journal? Dang, I'm impressed! Glad to hear from you, as always! Also love that your suspicions are evolving: I have a bad habit with mysteries to identify a suspect immediately and then just gun straight for evidence that incriminates them alone. (Good thing I don't want to become a lawyer haha) Who knows, maybe it'll even change within the course of this chapter too? Either way, always happy to hear from you!
And finally, the latest poll results:
EPISODE 2: Which players on the Mole are your favorites?
-4 VOTES: MAMAR
-3 VOTES: BANDY ANDY
-2 VOTES: DIMENTIO, PEACH, PENNINGTON
-1 VOTE: KOOVER, MS. MOWZ
-0 VOTES: GOOMBELLA, NASTASIA, SUSHIE, VINNY
And that's a wrap! No promises on when the next update is, or if I'll ever learn that brevity is sometimes better than longevity, but until then, stay tuned! Drop a review if you feel so inclined!
Ten are left. Nine players...and one Mole.