trusthell | Take Responsibility.

And once the allotted time for investigating comes to a close, those elevator doors slide open at the end of the first-floor corridor, offering another of those fast, smooth rides down to that black void of a courtroom

Twelve out of the original twenty-seven are dead; there are four less of you present for this trial than there were last week.

That's incredibly obvious as soon as the doors slide open and the podium circle comes into view where it's encircling that dark pit in the center of the room; Norman, the King, Tarrlok, and Lynne have joined the deceased, photographs in greyscale watching the proceedings from their podiums draped in black.

Of course and as always, the Kingmaker is watching too; he waits until everyone is settled at their podiums to begin speaking, though it's still impossible to tell exactly where his voice is coming from.

"Assured and Perceiving have been taken from you. You guys are really getting excited, aren't you? Two people dead in one night... Whether the guilty party succeeds or not, though, is up to the rest of you."

Fifteen Survivors remain. However many will be down by the end of the day is up to you.

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[And when the votes come in, the lights go out, and the courtroom is once again plunged into darkness as the touchpads on the podiums power down; the faint ambient blue doesn't allow for much to be seen against the blackness of the walls, and it isn't until the pit in the center of the room illuminates itself that it becomes obvious that Misa is no longer in the circle among you.

As before, there were no screams; there were no shocked noises or cries, or sounds of a struggle. She was there, and then she wasn't, but eventually the wall beneath podium 6 opens up and Misa steps out, her dark clothes stark in the bright white light of the pit.

Her steps are tentative and hesitant, her head bowed; she's clutching that notebook tightly to her chest as she walks, though there's a tight determination to her shoulders, too, as she walks into the center of the floor.

She doesn't try to run, and she doesn't look skittish despite the hesitance in her motions; she doesn't want to be here, but she doesn't want to run, either.

She just waits, and she stares, and she tries not to shake or let her lip tremble. Brave face, brave face...

The wall under podium 18 has no sooner opened than a bolt of tension immediately shoots through her body, her limbs trembling and looking like they're barely supporting her all of a sudden; when Tarrlok steps out he has his hand extended toward her, the look on his face tight and focused, traces of a smirk present across his features. A few practiced moves of his hands and Misa turns around, the fear in her expression and tight shaking in her limbs giving every indication that she's fighting internally with herself, and the motion is slow and deliberate as she does a complete about-face and kneels down on the ground, that notebook still held tightly in her arms and her head held high, her neck and spine almost unnaturally straight.

Then that door beneath podium 14 opens, and Lynne walks out. Her pace is the usual brisk, easy motion that she uses around those she's comfortable with, those she considers friends; it's almost easy to miss the fact that as she moves, she's checking the gun she's holding – making sure it's loaded, making sure the safety's off.

She stops a few paces away from Misa, her stance broad as she draws her weapon and aims it at the back of Misa's head.]

Goodnight, Captivating.

[The first shot goes straight through the back of her skull, a bright splash of crimson blood hitting the floor in front of her.

Tarrlok continues to hold her still; her body doesn't drop.

Lynne finishes unloading her gun into Misa's body, all of it centered around her upper body, the bullets ripping through both Misa's chest and the Death Note she's been holding so close to her; it's only when she's finished that the grip on her body loosens and she drops to the floor, frail body falling forward lightly and blood pouring out over the white tile.

Tarrlok and Lynne don't move from where they're standing; Lynne glances back at him after a moment, but his eyes remain fixed on Misa's body until the pit goes dark and the lights come back up in the courtroom.]

[This isn't something Sigrun can watch in the end either, for a vastly different reason than last week's.

All the executions are brutal. She's used to brutal. It's expected. She's seen people die in worse ways, not nearly as quick as these tend to be, long and drawn out; when Misa kneels down due to Tarrlok's hand motions (what is that) and Lynne comes out with a gun Sigrun can't help but turn around at her podium, eyes closed and face tight.

Justice is justice, it's something Misa accepted and would've wanted, maybe, as someone who punished criminals herself... but now her stomach's just rolling after the fact. Of all the people she could have voted, that no one would ever know if she did any different, she'd thought it'd be best to deliver justice the same way they always had.

... Being human sucks.]

[Bruce doesn't turn his gaze away from this.

It never gets easier watching any of this, but Misa made her choice, and now this is... just the price of it. It said as much in the rules, didn't it? Everyone had to take responsibility for their actions...

To his credit, he only flinches once at the first gunshot; after that he's silent as he watches everything else, only letting out a breath after Misa drops to the floor, now dead.

He only moves after the lights come back on; as everyone begins to leave once more Bruce goes around to pick up the portraits of the ones who had passed between last week and now - Norman, King, Tarrlok and Lynne. None for Misa for now, of course, but... hopefully, they'll never have a reason to come back down here again.]

[ It's not like Black's ever had an easy time watching any execution, and Misa's is no exception—even if he doesn't turn away, staring at what Tarrlok's doing. It's... horrible, chilling, reminds him far too much of the things psychic powers can do if they're in the hands of the wrong person (has he ever done that?), and he flinches when Lynne unloads a bullet into her.

And again. And again. And again, again, again, until he needs to lean against his podium for support, shoulders tight. ...he hates executions and he hates watching them and he hates that Misa can't move or do anything, that she's being held like that.

He doesn't move until the pit goes dark, and at that moment? He's never picked up his own notebook and gone to the elevator quicker, holding it tight against his chest. ]

[These are beginning to become too much. It's hard enough to watch the execution as Misa appears in the pit, scared and defenseless. If she hadn't already opened up to them about her death god and that notebook... he would have thought she wasn't deserving of this.

Was she? Justice was just justice, was it? Misa had killed so many times before, and now she did it again in the hopes of seeing her love once more. It's the same act and show as before, going through the motions; as Misa enters and Lynne and Tarrlok follow, Speedwagon's torn between watching for her sake and averting his gaze in horror. The latter wins out, right as those gunshots start.

And then it's over before they know it. It's more brutal then any heart attack.]

Take Responsibility.

ACCOUNTABILITY.

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