“I’ve already fallen behind with my schedule.” Yoko crouched down, his torso just barely lifted away from the floor. He crawled forward and emitted a series of low grunts, his muscles contracting and veins almost popping out of his skin. Given his frightfully bulky frame it was a shock to see him display such graceful flexibility. It was like watching an enormous spider track its prey. Once a short distance had been covered, he pulled himself up effortlessly and arched his back, letting loose with a cascade of mighty cracks from his spine. “I lose one day and already it makes a difference,” he said, shaking his head mirthfully. “That technique strengthens your tendons, makes you more versatile in the circle. You can use it in a wrestling match to duck under your opponent’s attack and leap onto ‘em like a lion. The problem is if you get stepped on, chances are you’re going down. Unless you’re strong enough to take a few hundred pounds, that is.” Yoko flashed a cheeky grin.

“I couldn’t even imagine.”

It was a while after Pinkie and Shetland’s memorial, and Yoko and I were conversing in the gym. Earlier, we had returned to the dining room with the others, but an oppressive atmosphere had materialized. Mesmer remained eerily pensive – even more so than usual for someone so unsociable – and refrained from conversing for a long period of time. Copper in particular was in an alarming state, looking as if she might crack any second and start raving hysterically. I could only conclude it had something to do with Lancet’s well-meaning declaration, something that she repeated to Elsie, Dish Panner, Maribelle and Button given their previous absence. By sheer uncanny coincidence this same group of four handled the midday check of the MonoMart’s weapon stock. No change. Of course, I told myself. Nobody would’ve had a chance.

After a short meal I had wandered off to bed. Yoko paid me a visit a while later (I had given up on keeping track of time) to see how I was, and I ended up following him to the gym. This, despite knowing I was hopeless when it came to one-on-one conversations. The last time we spoke, I had held the upper hoof. That was something I couldn’t imagine replicating ever again, not in my lifetime. Still, I remembered the revelation that I’d come to: maybe Yoko was my friend. As such, I accepted Yoko’s invitation. And I was all the happier for it.

“There’s a lot of misconception that surrounds the world of sumo,” Yoko continued. “It’s no secret that I’m on the large side, that I have more layers of fat than a toad has warts.”

That’s an understatement, I thought of saying.

“You’d be forgiven for thinking it makes me unhealthy, unagile, nothin’ but a brute whose legs are gonna give up the ghost any minute and snap. Total nonsense! Sumo is as much about control, health and discipline as any martial art or meditative exercise. Sumo is a lifestyle. Back in the dojo, from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to bed – rising and sleeping early with a strict regimen – everything is connected to sumo. At least six hours of intensive exercise, muscle therapy and long rest sessions, all to uphold a tradition that stretches back for countless generations.

“Of course, some see it as something childish and silly, two burly stallions trying to push each other over, but there is an art to it. Movement above strength above weight, that’s the way. Sumo’s just an evolution of animalistic instinct but in the most humane and appreciative discipline. You have your patch, your opponent has theirs, and you’re defending it with your life. If you can’t hold your own, you don’t deserve it. If your opponent can show that you’re weak and send you toppling over, that’s the end. No kicking while they’re down and no attempting to cause real damage and leave a permanent scar. It’s about respect, not chest-thumping arrogance.” Yoko’s eyes widened and he scratched the back of his neck bashfully. “Sorry, I guess I got carried away. I swear my mouth would escape if it wasn’t permanently attached to my face!”

“No, it’s fine, really,” I replied. Speaking with Yoko was, in its own way, kind of liberating. I imagined in certain circles he was a legend, a celebrity, someone you’d travel halfway around Equus just to meet, and here I was idly chatting with him. We were stuck in a killing game – that, I’m sure he hadn’t forgotten – but here he was, talking as if all was right with the world, simply expressing his boundless passion. After his drunken breakdown it was not only surprising, but rather pleasant, and I felt that was the point. That was what he was trying to accomplish. It also felt wholesome to know that he’d picked me specifically, though I had no idea what it was that I had to offer.

“It’s funny. You’ve managed to gain quite a bit of support from the others and we’ve only been here two days. And you’re supposed to be the Ultimate Nobody? I have to wonder, just what are you?”

You’re telling me, I silently replied, Mesmer’s words trickling faintly through my mind.

“Well, so long as you’re sure,” Yoko said with a smile. “You know, believe it or not, when I was a foal I was a weak, spindly, gangly-lookin’ thing.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“It’s true,” he continued with a nod. “At twelve I was little more than skin and bones. Colts used to make fun of me, fillies didn’t want to speak to me… School was hard and I failed at pretty much everythin’. I even failed at physical education if you can believe it!” Yoko laughed heartily. “I had no direction, nothin’ in life that I really wanted to do, no passion, no future. I was unhappy as all hell, truth be told.

“But then something happened, something unexpected. I went to a sumo match, my grandfather’s idea, really. He liked it and I barely knew about it, but one weekend we ended up going to a demonstration and that was that. I never expected anything, nothing at all, really. Boring old Grandpa wanted to watch two stallions slap each other, was what I thought. But when I watched it happen, saw the emotion on the faces of the competitors and felt the atmosphere turn electric once that split second of hitting the sand passed, I was hooked.

“Some sumo matches can be over in seconds and that puts a lot of ponies off. Makes it seem insignificant to some, but I think it makes it all the more meaningful. Every second counts, every move, every decision. You’re risking it all, trying to gauge your opponent, predict what they’re going to do and then stopping them. You can act conservatively, but if you’re too predictable you could be walking into a trap. In those few seconds you’re at your best. No being bogged down by time, muscle aches or decision making, just a quick, decisive bout testing the synergy of mind and body. Once I could see that, the rest was inevitable.

“Of course, I failed at first, and hopelessly at that. Didn’t have the strength, didn’t have the stamina, didn’t have anything, really. I strolled into a local dojo with my Grandpa and was laughed at. These other colts were burly, fierce lookin’ things. I had begged my Grandpa just to be here and already it looked like curtains for me. I was inducted into the group and we started training exercises. I thought I had the hang of it, didn’t seem all that tough at first. It was tiring and made me sweat, but I managed. What I didn’t realize was this was just a quick warm-up, a ‘light stretch’ before sparring. Once that happened I got to see some demonstrations from the others. I was so excited, sure that I could learn the techniques just by mimicking them. As you’d probably expect, I didn’t. When I got pitted against the smallest colt in the room in a friendly match I was hurled aside like a twig and landed awkwardly on my shoulder.

“You see, in sumo you don’t just spend a few hours a week in training. You live it. Every day, pushing yourself further and further. I didn’t realize that until after I’d been taken home by my Grandpa and he explained it to me. I think he took me to the dojo just to teach me a lesson, to show me that I couldn’t just leap into something and expect to be great. Maybe he thought I’d be put off from sumo for life, but that didn’t happen. I wanted to get better, to sign myself onto the dojo fully as an established member. That would mean changes to my school-life, performing extra tasks with dojo upkeep, and eventually living there. My parents and my Grandpa told me I was in over my head and disallowed me. I suppose it was the right thing to do from their perspective. Young’uns don’t always know what they want, even if they’re one hundred percent sure of it. But back then, I flipped out, locked myself in my room and didn’t come out for two whole days.”

Yoko sighed deeply and looked sullenly at the floor. “I can still remember that fury, but what I remember most was the feeling of self-loathing. I would stare into my mirror and think, ‘this isn’t who I am. This isn’t who I want to be.’ If I was a failure of a sumo wrestler and a failure of everything else, I was worth nothing. I was destined to grow up into a nobody.”

Yoko’s face jerked up as he said this, and he blushed guiltily. “No, forget I said that, please. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, though I did feel a little hurt. Not because of Yoko himself, but merely the fact of my life. “Really, I’d like to hear the rest of your story.”

“Alright, thank you.” Yoko exhaled, clutching at his chest. “I am telling you all this for a reason, you know. Not to boast and make myself seem better, just to… Well, you’ll understand when I’ve finished. Now where was I?

“After I conceded and left my room my parents were good to me. I guess they assumed my sumo pipedream was over and I was ready to accept their decision. What I actually did was borrow a few books from the library about sumo techniques and study in secret. Didn’t work at first since stomping and charging around the house made a racket, so I started gettin’ up two hours early. Did me in to begin with but I learned to cope. Then I’d sneak out into the garden and study by moonlight, my hoof-falls quieted by the soft earth.

“Next was the easy part – eating more. Not only was I a growing colt but I was also on the skinnier side, so I would ask my parents for extra during mealtimes. Then I’d use some of my allowance to buy big bags of rice and hide them under one of the floorboards in my room. I even learned how to start my own fires using flint and kindling from one of the nearby woods, then I convinced my parents that I was partaking in extra after-school studying. I don’t know why they didn’t suspect something when I told them that, but for whatever reason they bought it. I’d bring rice in my school-satchel and use a metal pan, water from a nearby river, set up a fire, boil it and eat it.

“If that sounds like a lot of effort, like something was bound to go wrong, you’re right. To begin with I’d barely get a fire lit before I had to hightail it back home, and I began to leave evidence of my evening snacks. Other times I’d skip school altogether so I could exercise and bulk up. Not to mention, it was tiring me out. My legs were struggling with the constant exercise, and I would feel bloated and tense. I came so close to giving up altogether on so many occasions, but I pushed through. It was the one thing I thought about.

“Over the next two months or so I’d put on some weight and gained a slight bit of muscle, but my schoolwork suffered. I was doing worse than before, and now I was generally ignoring everyone else. My mother scolded me, asked me how this could possibly be happening if I was doing extra studying. So… I flew into a rage and blurted it out, my eating habits, skipping school, all of it. Then I just burst into tears. I was sure then that my dream was forever dead, and I just wanted to disappear. Never before and never again did I feel such complete and utter despair.

“But there’s a happy ending to this story. Y’see, something wonderful and unexpected happened. While I was crying my heart out, my mother explained the situation to my father. Rather than flip out they both hugged me and apologized. They said they never knew how much it had meant to me, and from then on they were helping me to achieve my goal. They learned about my training and set me timetables. They piled on the food portions and got the help of a local doctor to make sure I wasn’t putting too much strain on my body. They stopped caring about my progress at school. They stopped forcing me into doing chores and let me rest as long as I needed. They did everything they could to keep me on the right track. I guess you could say I owe them a lot.

“Six months after I’d told them, I’d almost doubled in weight and had grown much, much stronger. I attended the same dojo again. Nobody laughed this time. More they looked shocked. The Sensei, he was a world-class sumo wrestler, and he came straight up to me. ‘So ya got big, huh?’ he said to me in his deep, gravelly voice. Stared deep into my eyes, I guess trying to intimidate me. ‘And what d’you want?’ he asked. I stared back for a while and then bowed my head. ‘I wish to learn,’ I said, almost kissing the floor. ‘Please grant me your wisdom.’ ‘You ask for too much,’ he said, then walked away.”

“But why?” I asked. “You proved you were willing to work for it.”

Yoko chuckled to himself. “Grandmaster Kanji was an interesting stallion. Struck fear into the hearts of everyone around him. He was nicknamed ‘The Devil’ by some. Supposedly his opponents would find the sight of him so terrifying that when he charged, they’d feel as if they were being pulled into the ground by a demon. He wasn’t impressed by me at all, thought I was some rowdy colt who just wanted to throw my weight around to hurt others. I guess there was a little truth in that at the time. But he let me stick around for some training before telling me to scram. I didn’t get to fight anyone like last time. Heck, I expect the only reason he let me do that the time before was to scare me away forever.

“I started doing my morning exercises outside the dojo and within a few days Grandmaster Kanji found out about this. He stormed outside and I froze. Then I bowed. ‘Get up,’ he told me, so I did. ‘You think you can barge into my dojo and become a sumo just like that?’ I said, ‘I’ll do whatever it takes.’ He looked at me for a little while then said to me, ‘if you fail, or if you give up, I’ll never forgive you.’ Pretty frightening, huh? But that was Sensei. Next thing I knew he wanted to talk to my parents. After all, I’d be leaving home and school behind. He also told them about how sumo wrestlers tend to die younger than normal ponies. Having this kind of body takes its toll, plus the sport itself can be dangerous. ‘I don’t care,’ I told them. ‘I would rather die happy.’ They cried for what seemed like hours when I said that, but agreed to it in the end anyway.

“Now once I moved, I was in high spirits. But the workouts, chores, and everything else, it was tough. Much tougher than I’d expected. I got thrown around a lot by the more experienced colts there, and I had a lot of studying to do on the history of sumo and legendary figures who came before me. It did get better though, and once I started improving my techniques, the happier I got. Years went by and eventually I could beat all the other junior wrestlers with ease. I even gave some of the older stallions a tough time. By the time I was seventeen I was almost as big as I am now, and nobody in the stable could even come close. That is, apart from Sensei. He had this way of moving slowly and deliberately that totally threw me off, then he’d fly like a rocket-powered warthog and put me off balance. He could read my muscles and react accordingly, like some magic trick. He really was The Devil. He barely spoke a word to me but the respect I had for him was beyond anything. He went harder against me than anyone else, but I deserved it. I pushed him hard. But I never did beat him.”

“Hang on,” I said. “If you never beat him, why does that make you the Ultimate Sumo Wrestler?”

Yoko furrowed his brow. “Because he passed away when I was eighteen.”

I opened my mouth in shock. “I… I’m sorry. I should’ve realized when you were saying–”

“It’s alright,” Yoko said, putting up a hoof. “It was a long time ago. He died of heart failure aged forty-two, in the middle of a tournament. Right as he started the bout I knew something didn’t seem right. He took a hard fall and I rushed to the ring. He was clutching his chest and spluttering as the medical team were being called over. I was hunched over by him, calling out ‘Sensei! Sensei!’ I fell onto the floor, crying. He took one look at me and said, ‘Get up. You don’t get to hit the ground until it’s your turn to die.’ Then he was gone.”

Yoko raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “No need for a pity party, like I said. But yeah, those were his last words. Kind of shows who he really was, you know? He wasn’t afraid, didn’t break down or tell me he was proud of me, no mushy stuff like that. Sumo was everything to him, and I think he wanted me to be just the same.

“After that I trained harder than I ever did. About a year later and I fully began my professional career. Entered my first championship and came out on top without once hitting the floor. They called me The Demon, said I was the one who used to pull down The Devil’s victims and that I’d clambered up from some hellish realm to replace him now that he was gone. Years went by and I won every professional match, though I did take a year or so out in between.

“It isn’t easy being the best in the world. Everyone starts hating you, wishing for you to fail. It’s fun to root for the underdog, you know? I know I did. Every time I faced a new up-and-coming wrestler I desperately hoped, deep in my heart, that they’d be the one to finally take me down. But I never let up, never did anything but try my absolute best. If Sensei was watching over me, I wanted him to see that I was taking his words to heart.

“But that’s the tragedy of it all, really. Fans and experts alike all raved about their theories, if me and Grandmaster Kanji were active in the same period, both in our prime, who would have been the best? I was asked this a thousand times and I only ever had one answer: How could I be better than him if he’s the only reason I got to where I am? They say when you’re at the top your biggest challenge is motivating yourself. Having someone above you gives you a reason to get better, gives you a mountain to climb, provides divine inspiration. For me, Sensei is that mountain, standing eternally over us all. I’ll never get a chance to know if I could ever beat him, and while that’s a shame, it’s also given me a goal. I want to inspire someone to become better than I ever was. If we ever get to face each other, that’s a bonus.”

Yoko exhaled deeply, his trademark grin returning once again. “Now, you’re probably wondering why I’m telling you all this.”

I cocked my head. “I… I assumed it was because we were friends,” I said sheepishly, feeling a tinge of disappointment.

Yoko’s eyes widened and he chuckled a little, blushing. “Wow, your words hit like a battering ram! Okay, sure, that’s one reason, but mainly I just wanted to offer you hope.”

“Hope? Hope for what?”

“For something better. Look, I know you probably don’t like to hear it, but you came here as The Ultimate Nobody. But so what? I was a nobody until I found sumo. I had nothing else going for me. Who knows what I’d have ended up doing? It’s the same for you, okay? The only real difference between us is that you’ve not been exposed to your true calling, whatever it is.”

I shuddered. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but I don’t see what that something could be.”

“What, because you don’t exude an obvious talent? I used to be a stick insect before sumo; who could have predicted I’d get where I am today?”

Yoko’s words did lift me a little, but I wasn’t quite convinced. “Yeah, but, we’re in a killing game.”

“So what?” Yoko said with a shrug. He seemed shockingly genuine. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have a chance at finding something. You don’t have to tell anyone about your past if you don’t want to, and none of that matters, anyway. Really, what do you have to lose?”

I opened my mouth to answer and then slammed it shut. He was right.

“You see?” Yoko flexed one of his forelegs and pulled a strained, prudish face. “Alas, more words of wisdom from wise old Yoko-san!” He smiled before his eyes flitted to something behind me, bearing a bemused, curious expression. “Well… it looks like we have a follower.”

I looked over my shoulder to see the gym door slowly close shut of its own accord. “Who was that?” I asked.

Yoko shook his head lightly. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Probably sent up here to check I hadn’t flattened you like a pancake.”

I laughed a little. Then I had a brief moment of anxiety as I realized he really could do just that.

“Say, while we’re here, and have a little privacy, why don’t you tell me which mare you’ve got your eye on?” Yoko raised an eyebrow jovially and winked. “You can tell me, you know. I’ll even hook you up!”

My face was instantly aflush and I stumbled over my words. “N-no, I d-don’t think that’s n-necessary.”

Yoko laughed and nudged me lightly on the shoulder, lightly, which for him, was a one-hoofed barge capable of knocking over an armoire. “Relax! I was just kidding! You don’t have to tell me anything, unless you want to, that is.” He scratched his mane absentmindedly. “Actually, now that I think about it there was one other thing. Something’s missing from the gym.”

“Missing?”

“Yeah, just over here.” Yoko led me to two rectangular MDF pillars at one side of the room that stood roughly four feet apart and reached to twice Yoko’s height.

“What are they for?” I asked, wondering why I hadn’t noticed this oddity before.

“That’s just it, they’re meant to hold the pullup bar in place.”

“Pullup bar?”

“Uh-huh.” Yoko nodded. “I’m pretty sure that yesterday there was a metal bar here, one for doing pullups? I don’t really have a need for it in my personal training and I’d probably be too heavy to use it, but it’s gone all the same, I just thought it was weird. Well, it was also weird being here in the first place. What kind of setup is this? Why have just a bar all on its own? Why build these pillars here for just that purpose? Makes no sense to me.”

“Yeah, I agree.” I inspected the pillars more closely and was immediately drawn to a circular indent a little above head-height. Directly opposite was an indent on the other pillar, the same size and shape. “Look, this must be where the bar used to be. Maybe Monobunny took it down?”

“Maybe, maybe not. If it’s anything like a normal pullup bar it should be adjustable. I think I remember it having these twisty things, kind of like cogs, one black and one white. Lets you change the length and then lock it in place so you can put it up just about anywhere. I reckon anyone could have taken it, except maybe Button. I don’t know if he’d be tall enough to reach. Maybe someone moved it into their room, thought it’d be better to exercise in private. Well, as private as this place gets with all the cameras.” Yoko sighed. “Creeps me out to think someone’s watching this shit, but it’s best not to think about it. Anyway, I feel like some lunch. Come on, I’ll treat you to some of my renowned spicy noodle supreme!”

As we got supplies from the MonoMart my mind drifted to the missing pullup bar and its potential meaning. There were several aspects of the hotel that had struck me as odd from the very beginning: The oversized laundry room with its ancient machines, two of the personal rooms (Dopple’s and Copper’s) being central to the building and as such having no windows, the gym with its limited and strange offerings, the utility room on the ground floor, a collection of rules and regulations that Monobunny adhered to that were strangely specific, and biggest of all being the swimming pool on the top floor with separate “changing” rooms (when the majority of the hotel’s occupants didn’t even wear clothes) among other small details. While I didn’t understand it entirely, I knew the counter-intuitive design had something to do with the killing game. But it would surely be impossible to construct the building and the dome at large to its utmost effectiveness if this were the first attempt. Either these peculiarities were merely the product of wanton randomness and eccentricity, or were the newest iteration of a well-oiled machine.

Yoko dished up his ‘signature dish’ which was just noodles in a chili sauce and a smattering of bean shoots and chunks of boiled celery. Nothing epoch-shattering when stacked up against Dish Panner’s culinary prowess, but certainly better than my usual meals despite its heat factor being ramped up into the stratosphere and requiring me to actively avoid the patches of sauce that dribbled through the noodles for fear of dying from incinerated tongue. Yoko’s own dish was the same, but in a bowl three times the size, and smattered with what I would immediately think of as chili pepper confetti.

“Sorry about that!” Yoko said. “I tried to make it mild, but I must be too used to spicy goodness!”

“It’s fine,” I said out of politeness, gulping water down at a rapid rate.

We were alone in the dining room, everyone else having split up during our time spent in the gym. I tackled about a third of my bowl before calling it quits. The portion size was far beyond what I was used to, anyway.

Yoko had also snagged two bottles of sake, “it’s a wine made from rice” Yoko had told me. I tried it and found it middling, but still tolerable. It seemed to take a slight edge off the spice though, so I helped myself. Started to feel quite mellow after a while.

“Spice is good for you!” Yoko rambled as he devoured his enormous bowl of death-by-heat without so much as a wince, shredded peppers disappearing forever. “Builds up your immune system. There’s a reason why hot sauces can stay out at room temperature for so long, there’s not much bacteria that can stand it! Of course, it also speeds up metabolism, so I try not to rely on it all the time.”

“Why would you need to get bigger?” I asked.

“Why not? So long as I build up my muscles along with my fat it’s no problem.” He polished off his bowl with a loud slurp before licking the last remains of the chilis. “Right, I need a nap. Best way to pile it on!” he said, slapping his stomach which sent out a pulse of ebbing skin across his torso. “You gonna be alright on your own?”

It’s been my whole life up until now, I’m sure I’ll manage. “Yeah, I might grab a book to read from the library.”

“Well alright then, I’ll tag along and keep an eye on you. Keep to your room whenever you can, you hear? I can’t be your guard dog all the time.”

Yoko did as promised while I picked up a murder mystery novel (thinking the irony to be kind of amusing) and went to my room. I took a long, hot shower, leaning against the tiled wall and relaxing, the soft patter of droplets dancing a rather pleasant massage across my midsection. I thought back to my old apartment, its worn carpet, scarred wooden doors, tattered futon, and half a kitchen’s worth of kitchen. The bathroom? Decrepit and tainted with grime. Not to mention the last time I was within its walls there was no running water. This hotel accommodation was far out of my price-range (I had a price range?) and had been given to me for free.

“Room service!” I said aloud, holding a hoof to my ear. “I want an ice cream sundae, some champagne and an extra thick duvet!”

I tilted my head back and took in a mouthful of warm water, gargled it, then spit it out to one side. I laughed at myself, my foalishness, my state of mild intoxication, and stared towards the other end of the bathroom. I locked eyes with the camera that kept watch over me. I thought about what Monobunny had said, that there were thousands watching over us. I wanted to know why.

“Hi,” I said to the camera, waving a hoof. Hi, Greyscale! “So… you know who I am? I should’ve expected that.” I shifted into a more comfortable position, my hind legs splayed out in front of me. “Why are you watching, I wonder? How many out there can hear my voice? Should I be worried?” No, of course not! “I thought so.

“Say, this hotel isn’t bad. D’you think everyone else here feels the same way? Most of them must be famous and live in swanky mansions or stately homes. Must be a real downer for them.”

I continued staring into the camera in silence. I imagined a crowd, an entire theatre-full of ponies, griffons, zebras and other races watching me on a big screen, stuttering in the style of old-school film reels. “I wonder what he’s going to say next,” one of them said to their friend. “Tell us more about yourself!” one of them shouted. Then there was a cacophony of cheers. Yes, that was surely happening.

That sake really is something.

“Nothing in my past really stands out,” I told the audience. “I never really did anything of note, and nobody ever really knew me. I guess I can share just a few tidbits, can’t I?

“I never really got the fascination with hot weather, you know. I can’t remember ever using the phrase ‘nice and warm,’ and if I ever did say it, I probably didn’t mean it. It’s fine warming up by the fire when there’s a chill in the air, but I never liked basking in the sun. I always thought it was a waste of time, and I never liked walking around in summer.

“This is a big secret of mine, but I’ve always had a thing for griffons. Lady griffons, of course. An entire body coated in feathers? I always wanted to cuddle up to griffons like they were big teddy bears. And they’ve got these talons, right? Sharp and deadly and powerful, but I imagine some really sweet griffon who’s really strong but super friendly. Are there any of you out there like that?”

The camera responded with dead silence. I began thinking again, wondering what I could say to them, to the thousands who were watching me. I thought of moments in the novels I read where the protagonist or villain has some clever plot up their sleeve and they just can’t contain their excitement. They know it’s going to work and they know it’s going to be big, but they can’t spill the beans. So they make a little statement, a little declaration that acts as a precursor to some wild scheme, all while the novel keeps you guessing. I wanted a taste of that power, if only for a moment.

“I’ve got a surprise in store,” I said with a wide grin. “Nobody’s going to see it coming. Not you, not anyone else in the dome, not Monobunny, not even the mastermind.” That’s it! I’ve got them in my grasp! “It’ll be something nobody’s done before. I could tell you, but that’d ruin it. Have a guess! You’ll never figure it out, I can tell you.” I had nothing in mind. This was all simply a red herring, a meaningless ploy with no grand reveal in sight. A pity, really. I was hyping up the audience for nothing. What a disappointment. But still, it was fun.

“You’ve been told that I’m the Ultimate Nobody. What if that’s not quite true? What if there’s more to me than meets the eye? I’m an Ultimate Something, that’s for sure. But what am I? If I told you right now, it’d ruin it.” “I wonder what he is!” “What could he be planning?” “I can’t wait to see what happens next!”

“Now, now, all will be revealed eventually. Maybe I’m planning on killing someone. Who do you think it is? It could be–”

I froze. The haze in my vision dissipated. The soft pitter-patter of the water droplets became real again. In spite of the relative warmth from the shower I experienced a slight chill that emanated from my chest and reached my extremities. It was similar to my earlier experience – in the library with Sanscript – though not quite as pronounced. I could think clearly now, remember things as they were. I wasn’t drunk. I’d taken numerous gulps of water, yes, and I’d been offered a glass of sake, yes, but that was all. I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t even tipsy. Slipping into a dreamlike state had nothing to do with intoxication – it had just happened, and I’d superimposed a false reason on top of it. I stared at the camera again, my pulse racing. The scenario I’d imagined was nothing but make-believe, yet I had fallen into it headfirst.

I quickly got up and turned off the shower. I dried myself off with a towel and sat in bed, staring at the walls. I had my book but felt no desire to read it. There was just the quiet, and the barren insides of my own mind. I stayed that way for a long while, trying to reconcile my departure from reality. I could have remained there, in that other realm, forever. But then the thought of killing someone, the one thing that could guarantee my safety, brought my soul to its knees.

Maybe I was going crazy. Maybe I already was crazy before I’d even got here, and this was simply the manifestation of that fact being displayed more readily. Maybe going crazy was just a part of being here, and others were feeling the same effects. But I wasn’t normal, so I had no idea what normal was. Maybe it was normal to fall into a fictional realm from time to time, maybe I was only now becoming aware of its significance. But something didn’t feel right about that theory. Insanity was the product of delusion, and I’d just fallen prey to it.

I thought then, that this whole scenario was unreal. Fifteen participants (sixteen if Cube Rick hadn’t already perished) being taken away from their lives and forced to kill one another to escape to their old lives. It was the kind of thing a deluded mind might come up with, but I was sure it was at least real. Unlikely, unthinkable, horrible, (wonderful) but real. The danger was real. Everyone else within these walls was real.

I pulled the duvet around myself and hugged it tightly. I began to wonder if I would ever be unable to tell fact from fiction. That one day I could reconcile the act of killing another, process it, plan it, understand all the pain all the despair it would cause, enact it, and either perish or get away scot free while everyone here would be sent to (hell) the incinerator. I didn’t want that. I never wanted that to happen. These equines were my family, they were my friends, and the only chance I’d ever had at having a life. But for just a moment, I’d viewed Sanscript’s death at my hooves an act of uproarious hilarity. For more than one moment I’d toyed with an imaginary audience who wanted a show, wanted to see blood. I had no idea who the audience was. I had no idea what I was dealing with. And I had no idea if I might forget that and drop right back into the land of make-believe.

These thoughts rattled inside my brain until I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

I woke up at 08:35. I tossed and turned awhile. All I had to remember was the weapon check at 14:00. That was fine, I had time. I stayed in bed some more, my head in the clouds. 10:30. I sat back and stared at the ceiling. 11:07. Time was just ebbing away. I could go and find someone to talk to, but I was sure someone would come and find me first. That was how it had been since I’d got here, and I didn’t expect that to change.

11:43.

I sighed deeply. I was sure someone would come knocking, come to check up on me, and the fact it wasn’t happening had me feeling down. I pulled myself out of bed and took a shower. A quick one, this time. I wasn’t about to let a repeat of the previous night occur. I looked out through the peephole and saw nothing. I stepped outside and saw nobody. I didn’t like it one bit.

I walked down the corridor to my right. The gym was on the way, and I wondered if Yoko might be training again. I peered through the door and saw nobody. Dopple’s door was next. I knocked before I’d even thought it through and waited like a chump. After half a minute I tried knocking again, but still no-one came. A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined the entire dome being turned into a ghost town, everyone whisked away but me. I suddenly felt the want, the need to be with someone. I didn’t even care who, I just had to have company.

Why?

I didn’t know why. For so long I had done without it, felt nothing of others, had nothing to gain from others, but something clawed inside of me, desperately trying to break out. I missed meaning something.I turned around and headed for Lancet’s door. I knocked.

“Hello!?” came a startled voice. “Who is it!?”

“I-It’s… it’s Greyscale,” I said weakly. The feeling of calling upon someone, being the instigator, was strange and daunting. “I just…” I took a deep breath. “If I’m being completely honest, I… I was feeling kind of lonely.”

A shuffle from behind the door. Some very faint hoof-steps. I assumed she must be looking through the peephole. The door was pulled ever so slightly ajar and Lancet’s head popped around. “Greyscale,” she said tensely. She gave me a thoughtful look.

“I’m not armed,” I said. What a stupid thing to say! “But it’s okay if you don’t want to talk. I was… It was a stupid thing of me–”

“No, no it wasn’t.” Lancet frowned determinedly. “Could you just give me a moment?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

Lancet closed the door, the lock engaging. I stood back, feeling as if I was encroaching on her space. She crept around the door a few seconds later, looking slightly more at ease. She took a small breath. “I was worried I’d been forgotten.”

“I thought that too,” I replied.

“I suppose it’s not healthy to stay cooped up in my room all the time. I’ve not been feeling all that well, actually.” Lancet flicked her orange mane out from her eyes and closed the door. “I keep getting these headaches. I’ve tried drinking plenty of water but that doesn’t seem to alleviate it. It must be stress.” She strained a small smile. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be making myself out as a victim, not when we’re all in this together. Shall we head downstairs?”

We ended up in the dining room to find Maribelle, Button and Elsie around one of the tables. Maribelle gave us a quick “Welcome!” while Elsie nodded curtly, her attention on a bowl of soup that she was idly working through with a small spoon. Button was wrapped around Maribelle like a cobra and his one visible eye shot open for a split-second as the door opened, then he went back to pretending to be asleep. Their ‘platonic’ relationship was starting to creep me out, a sentiment not helped at all by Maribelle’s words after Lancet and I sat down.

“I do worry so tremendously about little Button. He’s been shivering and shaking like it’s the middle of winter, and he’s ever so vulnerable in a place like this. He’s been restless, irritable, and extremely unhappy, so I had no choice, really. We slept together last night.”

Elsie almost choked on her soup, the spoon falling from her telekinetic grasp as she sputtered and gasped for air, her glasses toppling from her nose. “Wait! Wait! What did you just say!?” she cried, her jaw practically touching the table.

Maribelle looked taken aback. “He didn’t want to sleep alone. This place must be so scary for him, don’t you think? So I cuddled up next to him and it helped to calm him down. Oh, he looks so adorable when he’s sleeping, don’t you think?”

Elsie pressed a hoof against her face and shot a look in mine and Lancet’s direction that said, get a load of this basket case. “Yes, yes. But don’t you think he should learn to sleep on his own? He’s not a little colt! He’s fifteen!”

“You may be right,” Maribelle said, frowning. “I shall have to reduce the frequency with which I sleep with him.”

Button momentarily revealed his eye and glared aggressively at Elsie. He carefully and meticulously mouthed the words “fuck you, bitch” then went back to ‘sleep.’ I burst into a fit of laughter. I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t even stop giggling while Elsie reprimanded me.

“I do hope you’re not planning on making that a new habit of yours. I get enough of an earful from Inky, who seems to think this place is one big funfair. I don’t know who said you should laugh in the face of death, but they were an ignorant fool if you ask me.”

“Still,” Lancet said, “it doesn’t help anyone if we’re down in the dumps. A bit of laughter might do us some good.”

“That’s debatable,” Elsie replied glumly, taking a small mouthful of soup. “If we start having too much fun we could be falling right into Monobunny’s trap.” She sighed and dropped the spoon gently into the bowl. “I’ve been thinking about what this place really means. There’s the big question of why we were brought here. Why us? A punishment for our failings in life? Everyone has sinned, no question. But are we to be judged in such a way? Do we actually deserve it?”

“No, of course not,” Lancet said.

“I’ll have to take your word for that, and I just can’t take your word,” Elsie replied, her eyes dark and fierce. “I can think of things I’ve done and mistakes that I’ve made. For all I know I did something that I thought was insignificant but led to someone’s life being ruined. What could be worse than a monster who has no idea what they are? But if that’s really the case, I’d want to know.

“Shetland’s last words before he was executed. He came to a conclusion, didn’t he? That killing Pinkie was the first sinful murder he’d ever committed. That can’t have been true.”

Lancet bit her lip, her forelegs shaking. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just my instincts. Monobunny said we can try and escape as much as we want. If that’s the case, I don’t think prancing around looking for a secret exit is going to help us. I think that we’re being tested. We’re meant to figure out what we did wrong and atone for it. I just can’t fathom someone rounding us up for some sick killing game like it’s a stage-show!”

“I think you’re wrong.”

Everyone’s heads turned as Button sat up straight wearing a distressed frown.

“Button?” Maribelle said in surprise. “You’re awake?”

“Think about what you’re saying,” Button continued, prying himself away from Maribelle’s grasp and leaning over the table towards Elsie. “Let’s say you’re right and we’re all here because we pissed somebody off or whatever. What would be the point in getting us to say sorry? If they’ve gone to all the effort of building this place, wouldn’t they have done it just to watch us suffer?”

Elsie gulped loudly. “I… I don’t know.”

“Also, could all of us have pissed off the same ponies? I don’t think so. This is all just a game. But like all games there are ways to cheat. Video games have it all the time. Doesn’t matter how much time is spent making them or how good the developers are, there’s always something that slips through the net. Bugs, glitches, some of them even game-breaking! That’s what we gotta find, somehow.”

“There is another possibility,” Lancet interjected. “This place is rather odd, correct? And whomever dreamt it up must be extremely eccentric, correct? While my profession lies in medical procedures, I do have some knowledge of mental illnesses and unorthodox dispositions. Eccentric creatures often want to prove themselves to be better than others. They want someone to notice how clever they are. So I think, the key to getting out of here is to unravel a mystery.”

“What mystery?” Maribelle asked.

“The mystery of why we’re here, who is responsible for our incarceration, our connection to each other, or perhaps something else that nobody here has even thought of.”

“A novel thought,” Elsie said with a shrug. “But where do we begin to solve this mystery?”

“It could have something to do with the books in the library, or even something in the MonoMart. There’s that statue outside, or maybe there’s something still hidden. It could just be an exercise in connecting the dots.”

“That simple, huh?” Elsie retorted drolly. “We’d best get a head-start on reading then since there’s only a thousand or so books here.”

The atmosphere quickly turned sour and oppressive. Nobody spoke for a while. Our eyes and our minds were elsewhere. The horrific and hopeless reality that we faced had been reinstated. Each theory was filled with possibility and implausibility. I considered all three and cast them out in quick succession. There was simply no proof of any of them. And yet an even crazier theory leapt into my mind, one that made even less sense, had even less proof, but had an indescribably concrete feel to it. Right or wrong, nobody else could know what I was thinking.

Nobody except Monobunny.

“I liked it better when we were in high spirits,” Maribelle eventually said, breaking the silence. “This might come off as rather, how do you say, optimistic, but I wonder if we should entertain a particular thought of mine all the same.”

“Sure,” Elsie said distantly. “It can’t be any crazier than what I’ve already heard.”

“Right.” Maribelle took a deep breath and readied herself. “I think everyone here is rather nice.”

“Not a good start,” Elsie interrupted with, shaking her head slightly. “But keep going.”

“Well,” Maribelle said, now blushing. “This may be difficult to grasp, and I imagine not everyone will agree to begin with, but if we all wish to remain safe and sound we should all just ignore the killing game completely. We could start a new life here! We have plenty of food, water, even a doctor on standby if any–”

Elsie slammed onto the table with both hooves and got up. Her eyes and teeth were clenched and a small tear began running down her cheek. Her back to us all, she began to speak in a harsh, snarling tone. “Congratulations, Maribelle. You just proved me wrong. That is the most batshit insane idea I’ve ever heard! Just because you have nothing important in your pathetic life doesn’t mean it’s the same for all of us! I would rather work my hooves to the bone trying to get out of this asylum than make do with sitting on my ass listening to a bunch of psychos!” Elsie slammed the door behind her and fled to the stairwell.

Maribelle looked utterly downtrodden. She sniffed, a sudden and enormous flow of tears erupting from her reddened eyes.

“Maribelle,” Lancet began softly, walking over to the mare and putting a hoof on her shoulder. “Don’t let her get to you. She’s just cranky.”

“I only wanted to help,” Maribelle said meekly.

Button held onto her neck and kissed her cheek affectionately. “She can get lost!” he spat angrily. “She’s horrible to everyone! I don’t see why we put up with her! Nopony makes my sweet Maribelle mad! Nobody!”

Wait, did Button just say…?

“Try to understand,” Lancet said. “Elsie is frustrated. She probably leads a busy life and being in here gives her nothing to do. She’s bound to lash out.”

“Okay,” Maribelle replied. “I understand what you mean.”

The moment to call Button out was gone. But why? Pinkie had used that word before, and now Button, but he corrected himself. Does this mean something? Why would he say that?

The double doors opened and in stepped Mesmer, Dopple and Sanscript. Dopple had leapt to Maribelle’s side as Lancet briefly explained the situation (leaving out Maribelle’s ‘plan’) while Mesmer and Sanscript turned their attention to me.

“There you are,” Mesmer said blankly. “It’s almost time for our group’s weapon check. It needs to be four of us, remember?”

“About that,” Sanscript said. “Shouldn’t we have something in place should anyone go missing? I don’t suppose each group should keep tabs on each other for the whole day, am I right?”

“We’ll figure that out later,” Mesmer replied. “Now come on, we might as well get this over with.” Without waiting for anyone else he started walking down the hallway.

Sanscript watched Mesmer move out of sight then came close to me. “What did I tell you?” he whispered. “You should be keeping an eye on Mesmer.”

“Sorry,” I replied, unsure what I even had to be sorry for. “I’ve not been up for very long.”

“He’s suspicious of me for hanging around,” Sanscript continued. “I’ve been trying to figure out if he’s up to something.” He looked over his shoulder to see that Dopple was looking in our direction and straightened up. “Right, we should all get moving, correct?”

“Yes,” Dopple answered. “Sorry to leave you, Maribelle, but we have an important job to do.”

“That’s okay. Thank you, really,” Maribelle said, smiling.

The three of us met with Mesmer in the entrance lobby. We were just about to leave when I remembered something I wanted to do. “Um, just before we do that, I wanted to ask Monobunny something.”

“Really?” Mesmer said. I half-expected him to dismiss my request and pull me onwards, but instead he shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“Um…” I pawed at the ground. “I’d rather ask him in private.”

Now I was certain that Mesmer would insist on staying, and I’d have to ask a more trivial question. But again, he surprised me. “I see,” he said with a grin. “Then the three of us shall wait by the entrance. Dopple? Sanscript? Let’s give him some peace.”

Sanscript’s eyes flashed between us and he furrowed his brow in confusion. Dopple appeared unfazed. “Don’t make us wait for long,” she said, smiling. “More than a few minutes and we’ll start to worry.”

I nodded, and suddenly I was left all on my own. I opened the entrance ever so slightly to check that they weren’t about to eavesdrop, but they’d done exactly as they’d said and walked well outside earshot. I took a deep breath and pressed the brass bell that would summon Monobunny. Within ten seconds the black and white rabbit appeared from one of the doors, skipped over and stood on top of the welcome desk.

“You rang?” he said, the ‘rang’ being drawn out into a long, sinister inflection.

“Yeah, I have a question,” I replied.

“Well I should hope so! That’s what this thing is for! But I also hope it’s a good question. Come on, let’s hear it!”

“Was this place made just for me?”

Monobunny was still and silent. He remained that way for at least fifteen seconds while I waited, unnerved by his inaction. Next, he folded his arms made an odd breathing sound. “That’s an extremely odd question. Wasn’t expecting that one at all. You’ve taken me off guard here.” His voice had changed slightly. Instead of the snide, mocking tone I was so used to, he sounded much more casual, like his entire demeanor was just an act that had slipped away momentarily.

“But is it true though?” I reiterated.

“No, it’s not true,” he said, shaking his head. I breathed a sigh of annoyance. My crazy theory was just that, a crazy theory. “Why would you think that?”

“I… I don’t know,” I replied.

“Sheesh. I thought you had a few screws loose after your ramblings in the shower but maybe you’re even screwier than I thought.” He chuckled to himself. Not a shrieking chuckle, not the kind we’d been exposed to before but a soft, more genuine chuckle. “It’s an interesting question though, I’ll give it that.”

I smiled without thought. “Really?”

“But also arrogant. And self-centered. And stupid. Not to mention positively cuckoo!” And just like that, the old Monobunny was back. “Why would anyone make this place just for you? If I’d wanted to send you to some twisted heaven I’d have rounded up a hundred hot young griffon prostitutes and have them bop you to death! Now there’s an idea that would make audiences go wild! Ah, ah, but don’t go thinking that’ll be your execution if you get voted off during a trial. That’d be unfair, don’t you think? Especially after Shetland got beaten into a bloody pulp!”

I rolled my eyes. “If I’m wrong then I should go,” I said disappointedly. “No need to listen to you insult me.”

“I’ll be waiting for your next interesting question!” Monobunny screeched, waving with one paw. “Make it a good one! One that’ll leave me positively speechless!”

I slammed the door behind me before he could finish and plodded off to the group. “Hope you learned something useful,” Mesmer said. I simply walked past. “I guess not.”

The weapon check went as expected. Nothing had been taken and the painted numbers remained exactly as they were since the beginning. I was almost disappointed.

“Greyscale, are you okay?” Dopple asked once we were done.

“I’m fine. Monobunny was just being an ass.”

“That’s not like you to speak in such a way,” Dopple said, matching my walking speed. “At the risk of repeating myself, please, if you ever want to talk to someone, I’m all ears.”

“No,” I replied, coming off a little colder than anticipated.

Dopple sighed sadly. “I’ll leave you alone then.” With a sudden spread of her wings she dashed up in front of me and leapt into the air causing a powerful wind blast. My mane was flung backwards and the parasols stuck to the outside picnic tables were sent into pendulum-like swings. In just two seconds she had reached the roof of the hotel and hopped down out of sight.

“What did you say to her?” Sanscript asked after he’d caught up.

“I… I just said I didn’t want to talk to her,” I answered, my mind replaying Dopple’s powerful display of speed and grace over and over again. It was a stunning reminder of what she was capable of.

“She’s been fine all day,” Mesmer said, eyeing me suspiciously. “I think you upset her. She’s been talking about you, you know.”

“What?”

“Yes.” Mesmer nodded. “She said we could use your help. But if you ask me, she probably wished you’d be a bit nicer to her, especially after she’s made such an effort to be friendly to you.”

A lump formed in my throat. “I didn’t…”

“It’s okay, I’m sure she’ll get over it. Just be careful next time.” We reached the entrance lobby. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need some time to myself.” He walked through the left-hand door and to his room without looking back.

I exhaled deeply and dropped to the floor. “Did I really hurt her feelings?”

“I’m not so sure,” Sanscript said, stroking his chin. “I think she was looking for an excuse to get away from Mesmer. That stallion follows her around like a stalker and I think it was getting to her. Like I said before, that’s why you should be keeping an eye on him!”

“If I do that then I’m just a stalker like him,” I replied, deflated. “I guess nobody has any clue what the right thing to do is.”

“Now, now, don’t start thinking like that.” Sanscript walked in front as we took the right-hand hallway. “Positivity is the age-old cure for everything. Why, you should be a little more like…”

Sanscript trailed off as he turned the corner and ground to a halt. His eyes shot open, like curtains being flung to each side to reveal a summer’s day. His jaw was drooping. He brought a quivering hoof to his mouth, patches of red appearing on his blueish cheeks. “Oh m-my word,” he said shakily. “I-it’s happened again…”

I turned the same corner apprehensively and looked to the other end of the corridor. The door to the utility room was open. Inside, we could clearly see Inky, outstretched, her body vertical, her hind-hooves dangling almost a foot from the floor.

She was hanging from a metal exercise bar.

“Well hey there!” Inky called jubilantly, pulling herself up on the bar and stretching her hind legs from side to side in an extremely revealing fashion. She was wearing a pair of sunglasses. “Fancy seeing you here! I was just doing a few exercises.” She began thrusting her hips, an enormous grin on her face. “But it’s nice of you to drop by, Professor Sanscript! I’ve been working on my form, just like you said!”

“Of all the–!” Sanscript grabbed me by the shoulders with a crazed fervor. “I’ve no idea what she’s talking about! I never asked her to do this! Heavens above, she was doing this earlier when I left my room this morning!”

“Oh, hey Greyscale!” Inky called. “I’d love to chat, but I wanted to share some very important details with Professor Sanscript. Just between us.”

“For the last time, I’m not a Professor!” Sanscript bellowed, his cheeks flaring. “Whatever possesses you to do this, my dear, I have no clue, but you’re making a mockery of yourself! A little bit of decency would go a long, long way.”

“You’ll have to teach me!” Inky exclaimed, dropping to the floor and stretching her limbs, an audible click being emitted as she did so.

“Yes. Well.” Sanscript cleared his throat. “Firstly, gyrating like that gives a rather perplexing message to anyone passing by. You would do well to, um, well…” Sanscript ruffled his mane, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. “To not put yourselfon display in such a fashion.” His face had turned a new shade of crimson. “Secondly, why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?”

Inky bounded down the hallway towards us and took off her jet-black sunglasses. “Oh, these things? Aren’t they cool!? Found ‘em in the MonoMart earlier today. There’s some real crazy stuff in there, you know?”

“Should you really be going in there alone?” Sanscript asked. “My dear, that’s the one place our murder checks would be rendered obsolete!”

“Then come in me, I mean, come with me next time!” Inky cried cheerily, pumping a hoof in the air.

“I suppose it would be safer in that case if… Wait, what!?”

Before another word could be spoken, Monobunny’s voice could be heard all around us.

“Attention everyone! I have something to share with all of you. Please make your way to the dining hall within the next fifteen minutes. Failure to comply with this request will result in painful punishment! So don’t be late! Ciao!”

“I feel sorry for anyone on the toilet,” Inky said mirthfully. “Like, they’re trying to clean themselves up as fast as possible then Monobunny tackles them in the bathroom!”

“I do wish you’d take this more seriously, Miss Slinger,” Sanscript said gruffly, charging towards the dining room. “Come right now!”

“Believe me, I would if I could!” Inky replied. She turned to me. “Is he clueless or what?” she whispered. “You gotta ask him what he likes, what turns him on, stuff like that. I’m trying all I can and he’s not even busting a semi!”

“I’ll… see what I can do?” I said unsurely.

We made our way into the dining hall and sat down. Monobunny was stood at the far end with a stack of paper. It wasn’t long before everyone had arrived, Elsie trudging in last, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Maribelle and Button. Dopple appeared as she always did, not looking distressed or angry. I had to wonder if she was merely good at hiding it, and whether I owed her an apology.

“Well, now that we’re all here, I’ll hand out these news articles!” Monobunny began leaping from table to table, giving each one of us a single piece of paper with words and black-and-white pictures printed on each side. “Now, before we begin, I’d like to make something very, very clear. The events depicted in this news story are real, and these are copies from a real, official news publication. The only changes that have been made are the omissions of certain details like names and so on. Let me reiterate: this has actually happened.”

We all buried ourselves into our papers. As the minutes passed there were more frequent murmurings and terrified expressions. I worked my way through it, my heart beating faster and faster as I did so.

“What is this supposed to mean!?” Reph exclaimed, his nerves shot. “Why are you showing us this!?”

“That’s for me to know, and you lot to figure out.”

Out of all of it, three words repeated themselves over in my mind, the three words with the most terrifying of implications. Three little words in one of the photographs that made for the most chilling of dying messages, written in blood.

H E L L
I S
R E A L

Author's Note

Did I scare you?

Just a heads up, but the next chapter will be dealing with some rather heavy subject matter when the content of the news story is revealed. Hopefully it won't be too much for you lovely readers after all the support you've given me, but it might be a little upsetting.