The Kingmaker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kingmakereffect) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trusthell2016-03-19 12:00 pm
kingmakereffect) wrote in trusthell2016-03-19 12:00 pm
Take Responsibility.
| For the third time, those elevator doors at the end of the first-floor corridor open up at the end of the allotted investigation period; the ride down is, as ever, smooth and quick-moving. You're down by five. When the doors slide open, the podium circle still stands in stark contrast to that now-familiar black void of a courtroom, and once again, it's changed to reflect your losses – Caren and Mion have joined those with podiums draped in black, their framed greyscale profile portraits staring out at the rest of you. (The portrait of Pearl hasn't been removed from her room, but it seems the Kingmaker has replaced it with another; either way, her photograph is in the courtroom along with the rest.) As before, the Kingmaker waits until everyone is settled at their podiums before he speaks; he still isn't visible, but he can clearly be heard, his voice coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. "Capable has been taken from you. I'll confirm one thing for you so no one will waste time asking – the killer wasn't me. Looks like the guilty decided to take a shot at Rule Seven after all – and whether they succeed or not is up to you." Twenty-two Survivors remain. We'll see how many the group has lost at the end of the day. |
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First than all, it has been confirmed there's absolutely no way this was a suicide. Sonozaki-san's death was the work of somebody else, who then tried to mislead us through the crime scene.
The true cause of death is exsanguination from a wound to the thigh. The crime weapon hasn't been found, but there's no doubt Sonozaki-san died in the Art Room, as shown by the large half-cleaned bloodstains Lynne-san and I found.
Now that these basic points has been clarified, let's start this debate.
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mod ping
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I investigated Miodori's room with Black and Aqua-san. It was really messy and we didn't find the key anywhere. It's possible that somebody took her key.
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Why don't you try to save a little face by confessing and lying about how you wanted to protect us from the random element? Surely it's better than proving to the rest of us that you were afraid enough of having your name picked out of the Kingmaker's hat that you threw twenty two other people in front of a train.
[he's scanning the room while saying it and trying not to look at anyone in particular, because honestly, he has no leads. But he's mad as hell and if the culprit can be guilted into a confession, they can watch something wearing Mion's face... he doesn't know... beat them to death with a Battleship set and the rest of them could go back to their rooms.]
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[...Mettaton, you seriously can't be complaining about being bored right now, can you- ]
Don't get me wrong, stay undressed if you'd like! You're all fantastic examples of why sex sells. But gratuitous nudity is, for once, apparently not the solution, and while this has been a marvelous intermission we might as well go back to giving this our all. What have we worked out so far?
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HEY MODS.... AGAIN.
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That piece came from a pen exactly like this one!
[This was it. The breakthrough that could lead to the trial's successful ending. Mouri looks at Yato]
You do have pens like these, don't you? Do you by chance have any of these here, right now?
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Fine! So you want me to tell you guys the truth. I'll kindly oblige your wishes! Let me start with the very first one... Mr. Detective.
[ He straightens up and stares at Mouri for a moment, before looking away towards the center of the podiums, into the void. ]
You asked me once what kind of wish it was that gave me life. Well, I'm not a god of fortune, that's for sure... and I'm not a god of combat, or even a god of calamity. The wish that brought me to life was a human who hates his kind so much that he wished for a god to cull the herd. I was born to be a god of depravity. The thought of a god born to bring depravity to human becoming a god of fortune... was always impossible! This is who I was born to be!
So you know what? I don't think anything of it. [ He laughs, but it's got that manic edge to it again, and he seems to be shaking slightly at his podium. ] Mion agreed to fight me because she didn't want to take the risk either, but really? I'm a god with hundreds of years of combat experience. I took advantage of her and I killed her.
... And no, for the record. I did — didn't care what would happen to the rest of you if I had gotten away with it. In fact... I'm sure most of you are secretly relieved, aren't you? You weren't the one who had to die, after all. So you know what? You're welcome. I just fulfilled the wish you had in your heart but couldn't say aloud.
So there's the truth for you. What else do you want to know?
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SELECTION.
That's enough. You know what to do by now.
Select the title of the person you believe should be held accountable for Capable's death. Majority rules.
It's time for someone to take responsibility.
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Re: SELECTION.
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Re: SELECTION.
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Re: SELECTION
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ACCOUNTABILITY.
After a moment, though, that stark, bright light illuminates the pit in the center of the room, the white tiled walls glinting sharply; there are no cries or sounds of a struggle, no noise indicating his departure, but once everyone's eyes adjust it's clear that Yato is gone from the circle.
Then the wall beneath podium 25 opens up (and it's so close to Mion's); when Yato comes out he doesn't focus on his surroundings – after all, the pit is empty, and if anything has been shown over the course of the last two executions, he'll have a few seconds before anything happens.
Instead, he looks up, and he smiles at those still standing at their podiums in the circle above, and even if it's a little awkward and strange it's obvious that he's trying. Trying to do what is a little hard to say; perhaps it's an attempt at being comforting. Either way, the expression is accompanied with a slight wave before what must be the sound of the door opening behind him catches his attention.
When Mion steps out, her expression is severe; there's no anger in it, but there's a very intense, focused determination in her features, even if the look in her eyes is a little blank.
But Yato's eyes aren't focused on her face; rather, they're focused on the swords in her hands – long and hiltless, the handling ends wrapped in strips of white fabric.
His eyes remain there as she moves into the pit; she doesn't charge him, she doesn't sprint toward him, she just circles around. Sizing him up, maybe; getting a feel for the situation. For the arena, for her opponent, for the weight of the blades she's holding.
When Yato moves, it's quick; his focus is on her hands – but unfortunately, her focus is on his legs, and she's much faster than she was the last time she faced him. It's fast work, getting his legs out from under him; the leg sweep she snaps him up into is flawless. And no sooner is he on his back on the ground than she's pinning him there, her legs straddling his waist and those blades held high on in her hands.
He looks like he wants to say something; in the end, he just turns his head to the side, looking away from her as those blades come down. And they come down hard, both of them piercing through Yato's body centimeters from one another; she's aimed low on his chest, stabbing through his diaphragm, forcing his body to spasm as blood bubbles up in his mouth – his back arches and for a brief moment he looks up at her before turning his head again, but this time it's to spit out a dark streak of blood across the white tiles of the floor.
Mion just watches him do it, her expression unchanging.
Yato shifts a bit, not quite writhing but clearly trying to do something – push her off, clear his lungs, one or the other – only for Mion to jerk those blades out just as roughly as she'd pushed them in.]
Goodnight, Regaled.
[The Kingmaker's voice can be heard a split second before the swords plunge deep into Yato's chest; she hits his heart this time, hard enough for flecks of blood to hit her in the face, and perhaps the only merciful thing that can be said about it is that Yato goes still immediately. Mion, however, does not; she yanks the blades out roughly and brings them down again and again, her aim shifting a bit as though making absolutely sure he's dead. Lungs, stomach, the diaphragm again, her movements harsh and uncontrolled despite the lack of necessity for it, until finally she stops, blades buried deep in Yato's chest, and she sits back and just looks down at what she's done.
There's still a trail of dark crimson spilling out of his mouth, and it takes a brief moment for the blood to stop pulsing out of the injuries, shining dark against his clothes; Mion just sits there, uncaring about the blood that's spilled onto her jeans and the flecks of it splashed across her face, and she stays that way until the pit darkens and the lights come back to life in the courtroom.]
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