Author's Note

BREAK FROM GAME!

Humming to himself in a leather chair, Roman Torchwick couldn't help but smile a bit as he looked over the monitors showcasing the island. Only two hours in and already one of these kids was dead. Shame it couldn't be something more eventful though. He would have loved to have seen that chainsaw rip through someone, but the night is still young...Relatively.

With a shrug, he dug his hand into the bag beside him, pulling out a potato chip. One of the kids had brought a whole bag of these things with them on the trip! He didn't remember which one exactly, but if he had to guess it was probably Sky Lark (Male Student No. 13) since he appeared to be the chunkiest of the boys. Sure, it was a generalization, but really, who gives a crap out here? Especially cause in all likelihood the boy would probably be dead in the next day or so.

As he watched over the monitors though, he couldn't help but feel he had forgotten something...

Inside a small, rustic bar, in the late hours of the night, only two patrons remained. The first, a wiry, tall man with spectacles and wild hair, giving him a look almost comparable to a mad scientist, almost like that of an older Victor Frankenstein. The latter, however, was quite plump and large, wearing tight-fitting clothes and only standing out thanks to his large, bushy mustache and wrinkled eyes. They sat in silence across from one another, their glass mugs dry and their table moist from the aging whiskey.

The two had barely spoken to one another, mostly just quietly drinking their sorrows away and occasionally standing up for refills. They didn't even enjoy the taste much, or the feeling it gave them. It was just...Something they were doing to distract themselves. From their lives, from their jobs…

From their students…

Among their classes, they were known as teachers Oobleck and Port, and were the fan-favorites among the senior classes. They had never really figured out why if they were completely honest, and they didn't particularly care. Especially not now. Not after what they allowed to happen…

Who knew how many of those poor children were dead already.

"Last call!" A voice sounded off from the bar. A scraggly man, with a pale, boney face and orange eyes. Apparently he was the new bartender there, just started that night.

"We're...We're good," the crazy-haired teacher, now known as Oobleck, muttered.

"N-No...One more shot of w-w-whiskey each...W-We'll n-need it," the pudgier one, known as Port, exclaimed, standing up from his seat slightly.

The bartender simply nodded at this, as he got to work on the drinks. Oobleck simply let out a guttural groan at this, slumping in his chair and grabbing onto his head. "Port...It's too late for this...We need to get home and rest, especially after today."

Port let out a rough sound at this. "I won't...N-Not yet…" He seemed to shiver to himself, mumbling, "I won't g-go...Until I f-forget that a-any of this e-ever happened."

"We can't forget this, Port," Oobleck mumbled, gripping onto the table with clenched teeth, "it happened. It'd be disrespectful of us to just...Forget they ever existed...That we played a part in it."

"Played a part in what?" A voice spoke up, catching the pair's attention. Standing at their table, the bartender stared down at them with an oddly wide smile, which slightly unnerved Oobleck. After a moment, he placed down the two shots rather forcibly, the smile fully showcasing rows and rows of crooked, yellow teeth. "Anyways...Here are the drinks, fellas."

The two teachers watched as the bartender walked off, oddly chipper and almost...Giddy? Like a little kid...It was unnerving, to say the least. Oobleck shook the thoughts away though, as he watched Port pick up his shot and down it without a second thought. Oobleck was almost about to pick up his...But reluctantly stopped himself, pulling back and letting out a low groan. Seemingly understanding the message, Port wasted no time in downing Oobleck's drink as well.

"See you tomorrow, Port…" Oobleck mumbled out as Port slowly stepped out of his car and approached his house, not even bothering to say much in response beyond a simple burp and cough. The poor fool was even drunker than Oobleck had thought. It was almost pitiful, but right now he couldn't blame him.

A month ago, Oobleck was the fan-favorite teacher on campus. A week later he started getting pestered by the government about an experiment. For another two weeks, he'd desperately plea and beg them to not do anything to the children. Then...He just submitted to it. It didn't take much in hindsight; only a few threats toward his family and Oobleck folded, no longer putting up a fight. Hell, he had been the one who had filed them onto that bus. The last person those kids got to saw before they were taken off to God-knows-where…

He had let those kids get driven off to their deaths.

With a shake of his head, he turned his attention toward the radio and put it on a station. Maybe some music would clear his head-

"All our times have come...Here, but now they're gone."

...Well, screw you too, universe. Way to further rub salt into the wound.

As Oobleck drove off into the night though, he seemingly hadn't noticed that Port had never even gotten inside his house. Instead, he laid there, his body having fallen against the door, completely unmoving. A stray, white liquid slowly ran down the side of his mouth, as he twitched in pain. After a few minutes though, he stopped moving, and instead, just laid there, the door barely supporting his hefty weight.

It would be discovered the next day that Peter Port, formerly a beloved teacher of Beacon High, had died of cyanide poisoning.

Roman rose a brow as he felt something vibrate in his pocket. Pulling out the phone, he placed it to his ear. "Talk to me." He went silent for a few moments, as a wicked grin slowly grew across his face. Chuckling to himself, he nodded along to what he was hearing, "Great to hear, Tyrian. Be sure to clean up, and get to the island before all the fun's over. Wouldn't want you missing the good bits."

Hanging up the phone, he placed it back down, as he looked up at the monitors once more, smirking a little as he saw four dots slowly approaching the pair who had just sparked the violence across the island.

RETURNING TO GAME!