Despite his rush of confidence, Daimyon stopped just short of the door. Faith's words were what broke his momentum—her firsts after Thomas captured her where she sat. She spoke to the poet, urging him to reconsider, and her reasoning intrigued him enough to comply. Perhaps the green-haired Infinite was bluffing, as cunning men are wont to do, and in which case the tables could be turned on him in an instant. If it was him being, for the lack of a better phrase, forcibly embraced, he would have tried to knock the vial out of the villain's hand; Faith however was of a different make. She stabbed Thomas in the arm, drawing blood. No, those were not the correct words, either—the woman shattered a dam and ushered forth a sea of blood. No. Too dramatic. Daimyon could not find a proper description for the scene that was unfolding before him, nor did he have the time to, for a different cry struck through the air.

Jezebel was shouting and it made the hair stand up on the back of the poet's neck. He tore his eyes away from the pooling blood with much difficulty and turned to the frenzied Infinite, instinctively taking a few steps backwards. There was plenty he did not understand from her outburst, but two things were clear: she liked Thomas to some degree and despised Faith in a much greater one. Did the two women have history prior to this killing game? It was not entirely implausible, even if Daimyon did not know anyone in the group. Of course, for the sake of practicality, he had only ever written about reasonably important individuals; minor acquaintances could have slipped through the cracks. He imagined it was much easier for others to keep track of people.

Lost in tracking down this trail of thought, Jezebel's vulgar command reached him with a second of latency, though he needed no further encouragement. Turning towards the door—and through that motion, gaining one last glance at the bloodied couple—, he hurried out of the study.

————

His room was rather close to the resort; he remembered the way from his morning lookup of the map. On the beeline there, he had not encountered anyone, nor was it his aim to. Others might have thought his goal with escaping from the escalating situation was to bring reinforcements, while in reality, he had long realised that was a futile endeavour. Stepping inside his quarters and locking the door carefully, he consulted his notebook at once. After putting it back in his spacious jacket pocket, he opened the sole drawer of his table. Resting on the hardwood surface was a stack of papers, as well as an e-handbook identical to the poet's. He picked it up gingerly in his hands and examined it, finding it in pristine condition. Naturally, he reminded himself. It had been in his room since the tragedy. His thumb pressed the button on its side, and the screen lit up, displaying a familiar name. Merely its sight evoked feelings in the poet, but they all felt distant and...manufactured. Why? He had loved her, after all, had he not? His feelings were supposed to be dependable...

There was no time to fight off the creeping shadows of dread. After ensuring that the device was still fully operational, Daimyon left his room in as much of a haste as he had entered it. He could only hope that the tensions in the study had abated, though it seemed more of a pipe dream with every thought. Regardless, he trotted up to the second floor and only stopped when reaching the door of Marianne's room. Hers was the second to the left when approached from the staircase, unassuming like the rest of them. Standing before it, however, the poet broke out in a cold sweat. He was simply being unreasonable, went his inner voice. He had already been here once, and the only things he had found were the love letter and a series of more or less innocuous notes.

It took him a good minute to muster enough courage to enter. The door bleeped merrily when he raised the e-handbook towards it, allowing him to push it open. Inside was darkness, the enticing, magnetic kind, but it only veiled emptiness. The late herbalist's room was spotless at first glance, unnaturally so: the result of a thorough cleaning. Daimyon's eyes turned slowly in a fearful scan of the room, soon stumbling upon a spot the meticulous cleaner had missed. Several crumpled-up pieces of paper were scattered on a table pressed against the wall. A trashcan stood nearby, thus there was no reason to leave them out in the open. Daimyon picked one up and unfolded it carefully: it was filled with lines of delicate, feminine handwriting.

“Marianne...” the poet muttered as he sped through line from line. He deduced quickly that these were her records of...time spent together with him. Though they were not more than a disjointed series of notes, they were enough for his mind to form them into a cohesive narrative.

Whether he wanted to see it or not.

He devoured all the information in a matter of minutes and stood aghast at what he had discovered. The predominant thought at the forefront of his mind was, strangely, not even about Marianne—but his massive mistake. How could he had missed penning down the existence of these notes when he had first been here? He understood his lack of writing from their short but intense period together: the herbalist had kept him in a loop of drug-induced bliss. His visit, however, came after her death, when he was supposed to be of sound mind and body. Then how come he had completely omitted mentioning these defining pieces of the puzzle? His mind gravitated towards the worst possibilities. If he could not trust himself to record everything in due detail, then truly, all hope was lost.

There had to be another reason, he told himself in desperation. With a sweeping motion, he tried to gather all the papers into a stack and accidentally shoved one of them off the table. While he crouched down to recover it, he pondered on how to proceed. As much as he ached to shred every single note, he knew that would open himself up to make the same mistake. He feared that, without explicit physical evidence, he would forget again.

He did not want to forget.

Trembling, he clutched the stack of papers to his chest. After a final look around the room to ensure it was as good as empty, he stepped out the door. Before that, he caught a glance at the clock on the wall—he had already spent some fifteen minutes out of the study. Who knew where the situation escalated in such a length of time? Daimyon tried his best to shut out these thoughts, and most others, as he rushed back to his quarters, laying Marianne's final series of notes in the drawer atop her other ones. His actions were frantic; only when he was standing outside his locked door did he allow himself to take a deep breath. In his hands was the late Infinite's e-handbook: the key to her supposedly empty room and the last trace of her in this world aside from her notes. Could the poet give it away to a man of such malicious conviction?

He had still not made up his mind when he arrived back in the study. He did not speak, merely holding the e-handbook at his side. His eyes jumped from Infinite to Infinite, as if looking for some sort of advice.

Making himself some breakfast, Deimo had overheard the meeting announcement as soon as he walked out of the kitchen. While it might be nice to participate, he wanted to learn about all of what he had gotten himself caught up in. So the pianist decided to just sit down and eat. Man, whatever happened here must've affected Sis badly... He thought to himself. Henry could tell Alice hadn't been holding up well. From what he could figure out, the other infinites were dropping dead like flies more that what's natural. The pianist silently hoped that the recon's instability wouldn't get her hurt, or even worse... Either way, he was worried.

But not too worried. Turns out his sister had made an ally before the pianist arrived. So Henry didn't have to look after Alice alone. They seem to be good friends... Something must be up. He thought, furrowing his brows. Maybe he could figure it out when the recon and him can catch up.

Deimo's attention was turned to the blue haired woman, who he recognized as the infinite caretaker with a quick look through his E-handbook, looking out the window. "Curious... Probably nothing though." Henry mumbled to himself, shrugging before he walked back into the kitchen.

---

It had taken far too long for Zachary to come to this conclusion, but he had come to it regardless. The conclusion he reached was thus: When it came to his fellow survivors' grouping up, sanity was not included. Everybody seemed to go batshit insane. Without fail, too. Not once had he witnessed a scenario in which a group of perhaps more than 4 including himself had done anything but spiral out of control. Something always had to go wrong. People with their agendas always screwing things up for the rest of them.

He couldn't imagine the reason why Thomas would want that damned handbook. Zach wasn't smart or cunning enough. His best guess would be that with it, Thomas could potentially find a way to kill someone without being found out. That, or it was a clue to escaping this maze or to their pasts. But frankly, since he'd just blown his fingers off willingly, one couldn't blame Zach for assuming the more chaotic possibility. And after this stunt, only the insane would try trusting him anymore.

Zachary sighed. He wasn't sure what to do. People were attempting to enact plans, some were trying to stop it. There was bloodshed, there were tears, there were accusations, there was so much bullshit going on his head was spinning. Why did he have to deal with this? Why did all of these people keep killing each other? They had a clear enemy. They had that dumb teddy bear and its 'children', so why fight each other? It was dumb. People were dumb. How was he supposed to trust any of these people if all they did was constantly get into situations that escalated into even worse situations?

I don't want to deal with them.

He had tried earlier, but it was much too late now. He couldn't trust these people, these sick individuals. Even the brightest stars were nothing but pitch black on the inside. He should've understood this after the last trial. Perhaps he was idealistic for far too long. He desired to be a man that his father could respect, but maybe that did not mean he had to make friends with everybody? No, it did not. He had one friend.

He only needed one. He only needed to trust one person, and so he'd do so.

"I think it's a great plan." Zachary agreed. "We'd be better off avoiding any bold moves during the Night of Carnage, it doesn't lead to anything positive. So it would be best to discourage that."

Quite obviously entertained at the whole situation, Henry slapped his knee and let out a hearty laugh. "Ya'll sure are quite sumthin', y'know?" he did not seem to care if this was appropriate or not, and continued to do so for a few seconds. Eventually, however, he regained composure...mostly. "Ahem... Well now. Ain't much care for this kinda thing, truth be told. Y'all can figure this one out on yer own, I'm nothin' more than a rookie farmhand 'round these parts anyhow."

George Henry turned to leave, but before he did, he looked at Zach and laughed. Apparently, he thought the young man's response was funny? Zach wasn't sure, but what that man thought wasn't especially important to him. He watched the cowboy leave the room, then awaited responses from everybody else still remaining.

The intrinsic truth was ubiquitous. It was ever present, and never hidden. The truth has always been out there. So why were there still deniers? Why were there still unbelievers? Why was there an opposition.

Daimyon, Faith, Jezebel, Lucy, Noah, Zach, George, Denis…

There was a pattern to these individuals.

That’s right. Thomas was surrounded by the foundations on which the future grew. Each of the infinite’s here, they were all forged in tragedy. Some event that shaped them. All of them had bloomed already, and had grown so much. All of them, like the hands of a gentleman forced to work a field, calloused and hardened but stronger than they once were.

An opposition by aptitude. It wasn’t a truth they were struggling against. Faith’s comment made it clear. They were struggling for rationality, against what was perceived as an irrational thesis. They had all learned to oppose something because they knew that they would be stronger for it. Each of them, like lights that flickered with the future, like engines fueled by their past. Their eyes would never settle on something directly in front of them. They could only search for truth where it could be found, so for them to struggle against this truth was simply impossible.

The fact that not one of them had succumbed to Thomas’s plight, that they still sought a future where their perceived enemy was bested, that Daimyon still didn’t offer the handbook to Thomas — it was a testament of something very familiar. The Infinite Biomechanic could barely contain his excitement, he knew exactly what these individuals possessed.

Each one, a sample of an elusive sanctuary. A truth birthed from the hope and despair and lies that shaped them. A precipitate tracing as far back as the first humans, the crop de la creme, the one thing that had eluded the avarice of the hands of those who didn’t possess it. The basis on which the Initiative and Hope’s Peak before it operated. The lure which goaded the letter into its own destruction, which tantalized a student who discerned himself to be imperfect, which the Biomechanic was taught was more valuable than his own rationality.

A glimmer of true talent.

The Infinite Biomechanic wanted all of it.

---

”H-Hold on! Jez… Isn’t it a little, I don’t know, dishonorable to take a hostage? I mean, I know why we’re here. We all want to stop people from dying, but where do we draw the line? I mean, look at us! After this, which is already a total mess thanks Thomas, everyone's going to think we’re the baddies. Do we really want to exacerbate this issue?” Lucy looked worried, and there was a twinge of irritation in her voice.

He, who was currently ignoring the advances of Noah, spoke out against this. However, the moment his mouth opened to speak, Lucy loudly cut him off.

”Shut up. I don’t want to hear anything from you. Seriously. Have you ever heard of introspection? I doubt it, considering the position you’re in. I mean, jesus. You’re holding a woman hostage right now! How the hell does any of this make sense to you? You too, Jezebel! I mean, this situation hasn’t even diffused. If anything, it’s still escalating! Aren’t we supposed to be logical, rational thinkers. We’re supposed to pull the strings for the greater good. That’s why I came to this meeting. But right now, you’re both just making us look like goddamned brats. It’s like you have the constitution of two year olds.” Lucy got up, and began to walk towards the door. On her way out, she brushed past Daimyon. She looked him up and down, and huffed.

”I quit. My future is too important to soil with the thoughts of people like you two. And Daimyon -- You should just leave. It’s all just a game to these jackasses. I can guarantee that you’ll be sorry if you give that handbook to Thomas, so it’s best that you just don’t play along with them.” Lucy rushed out the door.

...

He was still staring at Faith intently, but he carefully listened to the full exchange. If someone was paying close attention to him, they may have noticed that color was slowly draining from his face. It could not be said whether it was because of Lucy, or because of the injuries he suffered. ”That’s unfortunate. I think your plan is excellent, Trickster.”

”I cannot say the same for you though, Poet. I do not know what you’re getting at, but your hesitation drives me to irritation. I wish not to discount the abilities or efforts of this courteous Biologist, but you're indecisiveness will ultimately result in a unfavorable outcome. Give me the handbook, now.”

Daimyon's inquisitive eyes pleaded for nothing, it seemed, as most Infinites avoided his gaze. Those who did meet it could offer nothing but silent sympathy. No one wished to be in his position, understandably so. The wiggle room around the decision shrunk with every thought until it boiled down to two binary choices, each with unknown and potentially far-reaching consequences—a true ‘bad or worse’ situation. As comfortably as Daimyon moved in the realm of the unknown, this much mystery was more irritating than intriguing.

It hardly mattered how he felt, though. What counted was how he was going to act. The sole person to offer any sort of comment had blonde hair and striking fiery eyes, wearing an elaborate outfit that consisted of a waistcoat with a long-sleeved shirt underneath and a red ribbon tied loosely around her neck...Lucy, yes. The Infinite Prodigy. Daimyon had almost forgotten the names of the roster amidst the chaos. Her identity was not what mattered here: it was her impassioned outcry against the absurdity of the situation that resonated with the poet, and he assumed with everyone else as well. Beyond that, however, he also caught on to her choice of words, describing the posse of her, Thomas, and Jezebel as ‘pulling strings for the greater good’. Now, language was a fickle instrument and phrasing was its scrupulous art—as Infinite Poet, there were few who knew that better than Daimyon. Regardless, he could not ignore the connotations of her outburst, even as she stormed out of the room. ‘It was all just a game’ for them? Truly?

Finally, there was no more room to delay. Thomas urged—no, pressured him to give over the e-handbook. He looked down at it one last time, clutching it tighter in his hand.

“I want to.” He let out an enervated sigh, looking at the biomechanic. “Trust me, Thomas, I want to. But I can't. Why? Because this is not reality. This...” With slow steps, he made his way to the middle of the circle, spreading his arms to underline his point. “This is a scene straight out of an action drama. We have a cartoonishly conniving villain, terrified extras, a damsel in distress...ah, we even have a hero with a moral dilemma. These are tropes. Flat, two-dimensional characters penned by a lazy, imagination-deprived writer. Is that what we are? Really?” He turned slightly in both directions, addressing the others as much as Thomas now. His voice gained new strength as he continued. “It sure seems so, because if we weren't, why would this situation have devolved into such ridicule? There is no substance, so there has to be spectacle to cover it up. There has to be action, action, action to keep the thrills up, because that's all these characters are capable of. You might be fine with that, Thomas, being in such a movie setting, or shall I say game. But I am not.” A pause. “I am a person. A flesh and blood human being, capable of rational, civil conversation with my fellows. Do you know what that means? That means that all you had to do was approach me, say, after this meeting and tell me you wanted the e-handbook. Heavens forbid, you might have had to tell me a few details of your plan to get me to agree, but so what? In my eyes, we all share an ultimate goal: that is, us escaping this nightmare once and for all. There really is no higher cause to strive for at the moment, is there now? And if your plan serves this purpose in the end, then I would have been glad to help you. I would have even sworn secrecy if that was the requirement to proceed. That's, it. Instead, look at what you have actually done: you brought an explosive and openly threatened everyone to force them to do your bidding. Why? Now you're missing fingers and a whole heap of blood. Was it worth it?” He let the question hang in the air for a second. “This could have been solved calmly and with reason. The way of thinking adults. Yet you chose the way of boneheaded B-movie characters and caused suffering for everyone involved. I do not wish harm on you, Thomas, only that you cease your theatrical hostilities and take a moment of introspection. Then we shall see to getting you that handbook.” He found his seat in the circle and sat down. “Now... I missed the last portion of this meeting, and for that I apologise. Will someone enlighten me as to what has been discussed while I was away?”

And with a flash, the monitors came back on.

”Oh? Is that standoff still happening?” Monokuma was dressed up like a doctor. Or at least, he was wearing the head piece. The bear was seldom seen dawning an outfit of any kind. ”Since some of you have decided to start thinking of ways to thwart my attempts to draw you out during the night of carnage, I've decided to pitch my own reason for everyone to venture outside. Mommy Jezz won't be happy, but oh well.” The bear folded his arms behind his back. ”I'm not going to kidnap anyone. However, if a squad of you is able to eliminate Geina's carnage class chassis...” Monokuma hurled his hands into the sky.”I'll let one of you go free! Maybe more if I'm feeling generous.”

”Really now?” The screen split in half, with monokuma on one side, and Willow on the other. ”If you instead slay that troublesome harpy my father has unleashed into the game, I will reward you with freedom.” She folded her arms. ”I am of course, referring to Kyra. She is not welcome here with us!”

”I would not advise that.” Monokuma placed his paws together. ”She's an empress, and as such, is far more than you can handle. She could probably eliminate Geina herself, but that takes the fun out of it for you guys.”

”We should let the peasants decide for themselves.” Willo pointed at the screen. ”Each of your rooms will have a red badge and a blue badge. If you plan on fighting Kyra, take the red badge, but if you're going to fight my sister, take the blue one. But do know that my sisters and I will destroy you on sight if you should do as much as walk in her direction!”

”It's not worth it kids.” Monokuma stuck out his claws. ”Kyra and I are unbeatable. Just slay Geina and get your freedom.”

”Well, there are more of us, so you should cease your tongue, knave! ”

”But Kyra and I have no weaknesses, like the self destruct button in Geina's cockpit.”

Willow jerked her head back ”Gah! How dare you! It is so uncouth for you to-”

Then the video went dead.



Jezebel listened carefully to every word that came rolling out of the Poet's mouth. She said nothing the entire time, even stepped off to the side while he gave his little speech. Once he sat down. Jezebel placed her hands together. “Like, seriously? You're just going to let him blow himself and faith up? ” Jezebel shrugged and placed her hands on her hips. “So like, totally hypothetical question but, like.” She dragged her body towards the poet. “Would you be inclined to change your mind if like, you knew I'd pry that from your grody little fingers?” While Jezebel was not a tall woman, she had to look down at the poet when he returned to his seat.

It seemed like an entire month had passed since Jezebel posed her question to Daimyon. He didn't budge of course. Thomas was bleeding out of his arms, and Faith's life was at risk. Daimyon was just as hard to sway as Thomas was. Both were incredibly stubborn individuals, determined not to back down. While it wasn't clear what Thomas wanted the notebook for, it was apparent that he would do anything in his power to get it. Just as Daimyon was determined not to surrender it.

“We're totally past words huh? ” Jezebel spoke as she stepped behind Daimyon's seat. She put about ten feet between herself and his back, practically standing up against the wall.“Like, I dunno why I didn't think of it before but...” She raised her arm. “You so can't get to a poet with words, you totally need to use a little action!” With Jezebel's arm leveled with the back of the poet's chair, it was a simple matter for gadget-propelled-fist to launch out of her sleeve and strike the back of the chair. The blow wasn't strong enough to break the wooden chair, which served to evenly distribute the force over Daimyon's back. The blow was hardly lethal, but it hurled the poet onto the floor hard enough for him to drop the handbook. Marianne's handbook skidded across the floor and bounced against Denis's foot. The Spy was quick to bend over and pick up the handbook, which he now held with both hands. After giving it a quick examination, he looked up at Thomas.



"How interesting." Thomas stepped away from Faith, and by extension, Noah. He was swift, but the bio mechanic would have fallen over if there wasn't a wall to catch him. "It would seem that after all that, everything went just as expected." While Thomas was barely able to stand, he still possessed the strength to smile in satisfaction. "But this is hardly a loss for you, Poet. You enjoy turning the suffering of others into song. I would not be surprised if you drew things out hoping this would turn into a tragedy." After taking a few steps, he started to regain his footing. Denis's eyes turned back towards the floor. "I will explain why I needed the herbalist's handbook to you in time. But we need to finish our preparations for tonight." Thomas stepped outside of the study and the door shut. All was as quiet as when the meeting first started.

“Meeting's over.” Jezebel walked towards the door, ignoring glances from anyone else looking her way.

Alice was surprised to see her friend taking her secret quite well, but at the same time, she was relieved. Yet she couldn't help but want to apologize for her earlier actions. "I really wanted to check up on you, I did. But knowing that I was able to get away with being a gun-for-hire cause of people like Max, it just made me so angry, I couldn't help but yell at him..." She told Ice. "Anyway, if there's anything you want to know about me, don't be afraid to ask, okay?"

"I'm not one for prodding, but I gotcha." They'd been in the same hugging position for a while now and Ice had unconsciously rested his chin atop the recon's head. He wasn't putting any weight on it and it felt nice to have her glossy hair against his neck. He let out at sigh, his hands locking together and squeezing, "What I imagine you went through ain't like the people who make my skin crawl at night. Those are the overlords, the crime bosses, the masterminds. The scum that I let lead me around by the nose weren't a pocket full of posies, they didn't even seem human." He stayed silent for a few more moments before stiffening slightly, "Well... There is one question I have. What crawled out of hell and dragged you in?"

"Long story." Alice chuckled. "Turns out having a nanny who worked part time as an assassin drags you into all kinds of perilous adventures. Kinda bullshit, I know, but that turned out to be life for me."

"They have to make a civil living somehow, I guess..." The Blood Donor had run out of things to say exactly, so he just kind of stood there. "...Is there anything you want to know about me?"

"Not really. Can't think of anything I'm curious about, other than why you care about me." The recon shrugged, pulling away from the hug a bit. "I mean- I don't mean to be a downer, I'm just wondering, that's all. Haven't really done anything to deserve you, ya know?"

The man frowned, "...I just do. There's a bit of an empathy feeling in there, but I can tell that you aren't just saying caw caw with no backing. It's... I can't imagine surviving this without you by my side-" His face grew a very bright red and he pushed her face back into his chest so she couldn't see it, "...That's all the mushy stuff you're getting out of me whiz anorak."

The recon giggled at his response. "Hahahah, Dork." she said, before the monitors came back to life for Killgood to give everyone the motive to participate in the night of carnage. Actually, it was both Monokuma and Willow giving the motive. If they defeated Geina's Carnage Class Chassis, the bear would let a lucky sod or two go free, but if they faced the newest Carnage sister, Kyra, Willow would reward one of them with freedom. Sounded a bit suspicious to Alice.

At the sound of the announcement, Ice stiffened and his face drained of color. Then again, that's how any normal person's body would react to something so traumatic. He gently pushed Alice until he only held her shoulders and turned his head up to the screen. "That kind of baloney is gonna split our little circus up even more." Memories flashed back of Allie's death and Zach's eye. It took a few moments for the Blood Donor to bring himself back to reality, "...What do you wanna do?"

"I-I don't know." Alice admitted. "How are we supposed to trust either of them will keep to their word? Not to mention facing either Geina's chassis or Kyra is a death-wish nontheless. I just think it's too good to be true!"

"Erm, sorry to intrude." Henry appeared by the fountain, appearing confused. "But if the knockoff Pooh Bear really is gonna let some of us free, maybe we should take the risk? We could be one of the lucky ones chosen, after all." he asked, walking over to the other two.

Ice glanced over at the pianist, letting his hands drift down to his sides and taking a quick step back, "Whatever we decide on, this would be an opportunity to go after those weapons. While I do want one of us to get out of here, Alice is right. I think we should feign interest and do some damage while they're distracted." Who knew what Monokuma meant be 'go free'? He could just send their dead body out of Axis Mundi for all they knew.

The recon smiled when Ice agreed with her, but gave Henry a stern look once she turned to face him. "Don't think you'll be sneaking off to help fight who-cares-who. Unless you want to help us out, you'll have to wait out the night in your room." she told him. "Alright, but how bad are the carnage whatzits anyways?" Deimo asked. "On a scale of harmless to serial muderer... they're leaning towards remorseless war machine." Alice explained. "Oh damn... Wouldn't you need help then?"

The recon shook her head in reply. "I'll- no, we'll be fine. I just don't want you or Ice getting hurt. Or worse..." she appeared scared as she thought to herself. Noticing this, Henry looked over to Ice and asked, "Has Alice been alright?"

A thought slipped passed his mind as he watched the siblings. There was similarity to their relationship and Alice with Mercy, but their roles had been switched. It was nice to see her taking on the parental role for a change, and it was even funnier considering how short the both of them were, with Alice scolding her taller companion. Ice only let the smile graze his face but a moment, but it was there all the same. It may have been a childish thought, but it was probably the happiest thought to come up in a while.

Once they got talking about the more serious topics, his smile looked as though it was only a memory. "I'll-" His words were cut off by the smaller girl's and thoughts of interrupting her quickly escaped his mind. Ice could only stare at her with a small feeling of happiness, even though he had already heard the same words before. It took him a second to remember Henry's question. "She's been a great asset in this hell hole and has acted as anyone would in this situation. I can see her making it out of this alive, so I'd say that's a win."

"That's my sister alright." Henry chuckled, patting Alice on the back. "Hey, don't worry about keeping an eye on us- or him really, okay? I'm sure you two will get through this carnage night thing. Even if you're just getting weapons or whatnot." he told the recon. "I just...don't want to be a failure..." Alice mumbled. "Heyheyhey- don't talk like that! You're just out of your element, that's all!"

"My what?"

"You're proabably just not used to this, that's all...I dunno, I'm just trying to keep your spirits up here."

Ice crossed his arms and stared her down, "You don't get to be a failure, you here me? Because failing means death, and I'm not letting that happen. Average marks I'll let slide, but you at least need all your limbs."

"...Okay, if she losses a limb it better be an arm." Deimo spoke up, earning a punch to the arm from his sibling. "What? I'm just saying! Bah!..."

Daimyon found the silence following his speech unwelcome. Here he was, having just finished the monologue of a lifetime, and no one even graced it with a reply. He assumed, naturally, that the Infinites were simply taken too far aback by the merits of his impassioned words, but still. Talk about a tough crowd.

In the wait that dragged on, the poet kept his attention on Thomas. He was, after all, the one his reply was directed at. Surely, even cartoonishly conniving villains had enough decency to respond to such a gracious olive branch, he thought. He believed he had been fair enough in his proposal, at least, though he braced for further escalation. After a minute, he asked for further escalation, or anything at all, by anyone.

But nothing came. The tension remained palpable, suffocating almost, but it lingered in the atmosphere. Like an imperceptible black fog, it swirled over the group but never materialised. Daimyon could feel it, as much as he could feel the chill when Thomas looked him dead in the eyes. Yes, dead—that was the right word for the biomechanic's expression. The fire in it that had accentuated his mad ambition just minutes ago was snuffed, leaving behind only darkness; an abyss a well-read poet does not stare long into.

Nietzsche... Beyond Good and Evil. 1886. The flash of remembrance caught the poet off-guard. It was just a snippet, but it was so clear and so bright... How long had it been?

Then the monster was alive again, light returning to his eyes. As if his soul left his body for a brief moment, only to now return. Still, the glint seemed different, as if Thomas was not the same—
Thud. Daimyon did not see the clown's back-fist coming, but that was his own folly. Truth be told, he felt relieved at this jolt back into reality, which he might have verbally expressed were it not for the ample dosage of pain that came with it. The surprise ended quickly enough that he could consciously see the e-handbook—the e-handbook! The root of all their conflict, the hill he was to die on. There it went, sliding effortlessly away from him, right into the hands of Denis. He scrambled to get up, but his body was slower than his mind, clumsier too. His arms wobbled under the weight of his tall body when Thomas spoke but gained furious strength with each word of the green-haired villain.

“I've never wished harm...on anyone.” He finally pushed himself up and got to dusting off his outfit. “But with any luck...I might sing your eulogy one day.”
He looked after Thomas and Denis as they walked out of the room. Jezebel announced the end of the meeting. The others were getting up. Looking over them, the people who sat frozen silent when he needed their support, he felt disgust rising in his throat. Dull pain struck his head: the transition from quiet to noise was too sudden. Or perhaps it hurt because it was so full of throbbing thoughts: the e-handbook, the plan. Marianne. The Nietzsche quote was floating at the back of his mind still. Nothing made sense.

He could not leave like this.

Taking a deep breath, in and out, he walked over to where Faith and Noah were.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.

”RRRGGHHHAAAAHH!”

The situation in the Study didn't make Lucy very happy. Jezebel and Thomas had to be insane. That was the only thing that made sense. All the nonstop violence had to have twisted them. If Thomas was willing to kill himself... She couldn't even finish the thought. This entire situation lacked any and all logic. And it was making her irritable.

She was walking around in the floor three resort. Lucy suspected that this was the furthest she could position herself from the Study. Here, she wouldn't have to be part of that zoo of a situation.

*Crack*

Lucy let out a yelp and hopped backwards. There in front of her was a piece of glass that had snapped under her foot. This was a little alarming to her. It was a small piece of glass, small enough to go unnoticed by the otherwise worldly prodigy. But she indeed had stepped on some glass, and it didn't belong there. Now that she was looking at the ground, she could see a few more pieces. There wasn't a lot, none of them were any larger than her fingernails.

”Oh no.” She told herself. ”Lucy Fairglave has put up with just enough crap today!” She took hasty steps foreword. ”My butler should be doing this!” But her butler had died last night. Lucy's heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, but she wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. When she turned the corner she could see an aquarium. It wasn't anything new, just a decorative aquarium filled with some exotic plants. What was new was the hole in the side of it. Someone had broken one of the glass windows that went around the thing. If the traces of blood were evident of anything, someone might have tried to gain acess by punching through the glass. But with that nightmare of a case behind her, she wasn't ready to believe the situation was that simple. Lucy scuffed her way over to the opening and looked inside. The break was towards the bottom of the aquarium. If someone was reaching their hand in here, it was at the base of all the plants. Lucy stuck her hand inside and pushed some of the leaved out of the way. It seemed like someone had scooped out something at the base of the plants. Lucy wondered what it was that someone might have needed from here. Her first thought was that someone wanted to gain access to the plants. But they were all very big, and she didn't know what anyone would want with any of them. There didn't appear to be any animals or stones either, and even if there was, she couldn't think of any uses for them. The only thing in here was dirt. She couldn't think of a lot of uses for the dirt. But the dirt was from around the roots. Which as everyone should know, they contain a very low concentration of nitric acid. If Thomas acquired this, he could- ”Wah!?” Lucy pulled her hand out of the aquarium and stood up. ”His bomb, was a dud!?”

---

Denis and Thomas walked side by side towards Marianne's room. Thomas casually applied the nitric acid solution to his arms with a cotton swab. It discolored his skin, but it stopped the bleeding immediately. "Well, this shouldn't take too long if we both do it." Thomas placed a cap on the vile and slid it into his vestments. "Open the door, spy. Neither of us wants a repeat of the Phoenix project."

”We save everyone.” were Denis's only words before swiping the handbook.

---

”Oh, it looks like quite a few of you are awake tonight! I wonder why?” Monokuma's giggled. ”Just a refresher, If you plan on fighting Kyra, take the red badge, but if you're going to fight Geina, take the blue one. ” Monokuma placed his paws on his tummy. ”And let's make it easier for you to find us. It's not like my daughters have anyone to hide from. Kyra and I are in the carnival of carnage, and Geina's in quarantine, where she belongs.” The bear laughed. ”Alright boys and girls, IT''S TIME TO GET YOUR GAMBLING FREAK ON!” the screens went dead.

Mary had been watching Caora all day, and it didn't seem like Jezebel or Thomas had made a move for him after the thing at the study.

”Everyone.” Denis's voice came over the announcement system. ”Please come to second floor patients quarters. Very important.” That was all Denis said before abandoning the Reception desk. But what was everyone else doing during this Night of Carnage?

---

This day, it had passed so very slowly. It was packed with events, terrible events, regretful events, hateful events; it gave Max quite a headache as he sat in his room, contemplating on what happened during the meeting.

Even though not a single person would have noticed, Max had been quietly listening to everything from a distance, and to be fair, it took quite some self-restraint to stop himself running in there and stopping the madness. It was an opportunity to hear everyone's side, and assess their sanity, which seemed to be fading for some, if not most of them. Soon they would end up just like Max, or worse.

The announcement that played was per usual, a complete joke; but one with a purpose. It seemed like perfect timing; first the group turns to fight, antagonize, and harm themselves, and then that damned Monokuma forces them to choose once more, to pit them against each other; it was brutal.

Max wanted to speak to them, and make sure that there wouldn't be anymore infighting, but he knew that was impossible; it was far too late for that. All he could do was make sure that those who remained escaped, even if some of them had to die to make it happen. So with that determination, he picked his heavy-feeling body up from the bed, and stepped out of his room.

The night creeped ever closer, and with every tick of the clock, Max focused his attention towards his objective. And as he rested his back agains't a wall near Ice's room, he waited for his accomplices to show up.

---

For the rest of the day, the siblings waited for the night of carnage to arrive in Henry's room, Alice telling her brother about all that had happened before he arrived. About all the past deaths, trials, and other nights of carnage. Overall, it left the pianist stunned at what he got himself into. "So you're telling me that the guy controlling Winnie had forced everyone here into a 'killing game'?"

"Yep."

"And the night of carnage is the time where the robotic nurses go into boss mode, and we have to fight them to unlock a new floor?"

"It's sorta optional, but yes."

"And the sods that ended up shedding blood so far are some greedy smart alec, an old enemy of Ice's, and fucking Ducky of all people."

"Yep."

"And that said Ice used to be a part of the mafia?"

"Yes."

Deimo stared at Alice dumbfounded, before flopping backwards onto the bed. "Holy shit..." he said. "No wonder you look terrible. Are you sure you don't need my help?" He asked the recon. "No, like I said, we're just gonna get better weapons. It won't take long." Alice explained. "Besides, you got my old cutlass, so you should be fine."

"Alright. Still, I'm kinda curious about you and him. You two seem to care about each other alot." 

"Yeah, he may seem a bit strict, but he's a great guy. Not to mention cute, heheh..." Alice said, mumbling the last sentence. Unfortunately, not quiet enough for Henry to miss. The pianist thought for a moment, before his eyes widened in realization. "You have a crush on him."

"A what?"

Henry grabbed the recon by her shoulders and looked straight at her. "I'm going to say this as clearly as possible, okay? So if you're still confused, I'm gonna be upset."  he explained, "You have feelings for Ice. Ya know, lovey dovey, romantic feelings? Love? You still know that emotion?" He asked, lightly shaking his sister. "What? Don't be ridiculous, Henry, he's my best friend. Why would I feel that way about him?" The recon asked back. "Just think about it, for a few minutes or so." Cue the Jeopardy theme.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, as Alice thought to herself. Then, the recon was hit with realization, her expression mirroring her brother's. "Oh my god." Mercy was right, Parker was right, and now Henry was right. "...Uh, Sis? You okay?" the pianist asked, Alice quickly nodding in reply. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. I just gotta think more on this. I'll be back." she said, walking out of the room.

Noah had planned on listening to Daimyon's case. He had planned on trying to figure out the intricacies of the relationship between the makeup covered woman and Faith, yet all he could focus on was the quickly bleeding boy in front of him that was doing nothing to slow his utter demise. What was driving him to do so? With the way things were going, if he was not patched up in the next half hour he would not only go unconscious, but his body may reject a blood transfusion as his heart runs out of blood to pump. The Bio Mechanic wasn't doing anything to stop the Biologist as he inspected the boy's wounds, not even flinching as he checked his damaged hands. But this damage didn't look like it was created from nitroglycerin! Unless-

The boy's hand suddenly wasn't held in Noah's anymore. The boy had simply stepped away, though it seemed as though he could barely stand. "You-" His words were immediately drowned out by Thomas's words. 'Due time...' Noah surely hoped they would be alive to hear it. Now that the Ultimate Despair had acquired what he wished, a small piece of the Biologist's brain wanted to declare them all dead. But there was no such thing as giving up on learning for Noah Atom Dyer and he thought it best to see how far he could follow the two deviations.

He had only just started folding what was left of his lab coat to further analyze when he turned to the Poet's voice. "My body is in prime physical condition, although slightly sleep deprived, but I maybe a bit perplexed mindwise." He let out a sigh as he watched some of the other Infinites trinkle out of the room, including a rather rambunctious teenage girl. "Might I have a look at your injuries? They may be minor compared to his, but I don't want to feel entirely useless." He set his lab coat on a nearby chair and without waiting for a reply, went to check on the Poet's knees. "It was a nasty fall and it seems I won't probably be able to get through to Miss Lambert at the moment. Why don't you take another chair, I'll watch out for any other punching mechanisms." As he checked the bruising and minor scrapes, he thought back to the incident that had just occured. "He may look like some big bad villian, but not everything of his plan was black and white..." He told Daimyon of his theory about the nitroglycerin before standing up.

"They are planning to hold one of the Infinite's hostage during the Night of Carnage if I remember correctly. Shall we get moving?" Noah looked to see if Juliette was still around, but she was already gone.

@Vocab@mateotis

Upon walking out of their rooms, the infinites on the first floor would notice some changes. For one, the entrance to the resort had been blocked off. It seemed like various items from the resort had been piled up against the exit way, barring that as an exit. There were also some strange contraptions set up along the floor of the narrow hallway. They appeared to have fertilizer, unscented soap, and batteries worked into their construction. They could have been described better, but the GM didn't want to get put on an FBI watch list. Unlike warpy. Standing at the other end of the hall, the only exit offered to them, was Denis. He seemed to be wearing more of these devices, and had a detonator in his hand.

”Wait here, no one hurt.” Denis had an unusually stern look on his face.



The speakers cracked to life with Thomas's voice. " Those of you still on the second floor, or still hiding in your rooms on the first floor, please join the other hostages in the hallway of the patient's quarters. The faster we get this over with, the faster we can remove the mastermind from power."



Jezebel stepped out of her room. “Like, double-you-tee-eff?” She ran for the first floor as quickly as she could.

---

As if things couldn't get any worse.

Once Thomas' announcement- no, comand, came on the intercom, Henry quickly grabbed his sister's cutlass and ran out of his room after her. "Hey, Sis! Wait!!" the pianist called out to her, yet she was already standing at the makeshift barricade.

Alice was resisting the urge to tear the barricade down. Thomas was holding everyone hostage on the other side, but more importantly to her, Max and Ice. "Damnit, that idiot doesn't know what he's doing!!" The recon punched the nearest wall to her in anger. She didn't want anything to do with the Night of Carnage, she just wanted stronger weapons, and now the biomechanic was seemingly trying to speed up their extinction. "Ice? Max? Can you hear me?" Alice called out to them. "Look, I'll find a way to get you guys out of there! Go on ahead and try to break into Davis' room, just be patient and DON'T move!!" the recon then turned to her brother. "Oh God, Henry...I didn't want to drag you into this but-"

"Say no more, here." The pianist gave her back her weapon. "You need it more than I do."

"Thanks but, don't you need a weapon?" Alice asked him. Deimo thought for a moment, before running back to the music plaza and comming back with an electric guitar. "If we're gonna fight a human, blunt force trauma should help, right?" The recon wasn't sure about her brother's last minute weapon choice, but hopefully they could talk Thomas out of letting her friend and Max free, without fighting. "There should be another entrance to the patient's quarters, I'm starting to get the overwhelming urge to shoot someone so let's hurry."

They made their way through the hospital wing, and slowed down to a sneak when they noticed Denis had what appeared to be bombs strapped to himself. "Holy shit, he's in cahoots with Smurf-hair..." Henry whispered. "We just need to try and convince him to set some of them free, follow my lead, good cop." Alice explained in a low whisper, the grip on her weapon tightening as she snuck up to the rogue spy from behind. She stood straight up, and pointed her cutlass at Denis' back. "Look, I wanna die as much as the next fella, but threatening to blow everyone and yourself up? Some spy you are. Now, before we say some things that we're going to regret, I can't afford to give a shit about most of the sods here anymore, but there's one among them I care deeply for. So, if you let him and a few others free, we won't have any troubles, understood?" she explained with a low growl.

"Please, why are you doing this...? You don't have to work with that sociopath, just get rid of the explosives and let us go fight the nurses." Henry gently tried to convince the spy to give up. The bad cop, good cop routine might seem a bit stupid, but what else could they do?

Denis did not answer Alice, and simply held the hand made detonator in a threatening matter.

"I'm actually quite pleased we left the improvised communication system up. It makes holding a conversation with you much easier." Thomas's voice came over the systems again. "You will not convince Denis, the infinite spy, to release anyone. He believes in my plan, and the phoenix project. "

“The hell is that?” Jezebel blurted out upon arriving at the scene.

"I'm glad you asked trickster. If only the others were as eager to learn as you were." Everyone could tell Thomas was smiling on the other side of his mic. "The Phoenix Project is an initiative run project that aimed to revive those that were wrongfully incapacitated by government bodies. The technology is there, they just decided never to activate it to do certain ideological differences between those who run the organization. "

“Resurection? Iedolo... Like, WHAT!?”

"One could say that Denis stands to get the most out of Davis's removal from power, as he was the one who put an end to the Phoenix Project in the first place." Thomas inhaled. "You see Denis wasn't really the first choice for infinite spy. It was his brother. He was a hard worker who dedicated his entire youth to becoming the best spy he could. He would have been a truly exquisite agent. But he had been murdered. And Denis's poor father found himself framed for it and simply couldn't get a defense as good as the prosecution."

“Like, is it just me, or-”

"The Phoenix Project would be very good for Denis, the infinite spy. Being that I was one of the reaserchers for it, I can confirm that it is all very real. I even sketched up some of the machine's characteristics for him to see. That is how the spy knows he can trust me, and he also knows that anyone who opposes my plan is simply one of the mastermind's plants, situated to keep his game running smoothly. But that ends tonight."

“You, like, Totally lied to Denis about all of that, right? Ressurection can't possibly work!”

”Dad come back.” Denis muttered to himself.

"You are not required to believe me. Everyone downstairs in the patient's quarters is my hostage, that includes you trickster. But the mastermind will not stand down from his position unless most of you are at risk of dying. This game is important to him, as is the group's continued survival. But I can't negotiate with him yet. He needs to know you'd rather die than continue this." There was a brief pause. "Archer, I think Jezebel, the infinite trickster, would feel a lot more comfortable if you were with her. You don't plan to remain hiding in your room, do you? Not when she needs you."

---

Zachary Ackerson woke when he heard the words "she needs you".

Well, that would be incorrect. He had been awake for quite some time now, but he had yet to rise from his bed nor do much of anything aside from staring at the ceiling. His mind was being assaulted by pessimism and anger, by fear and anxiety, and by despair. Things had done nothing but escalate for far too long. People where not who they seemed, some had turned out to be nothing more than villains, while some had died. He'd even lost an eye and were times more peaceful, he would certainly be stressing about how that would affect his hobby and career. But in truth, his lackluster reaction to the events of yesterday was what shook him the most.

The bomb threat, the aggressive, antagonistic tendencies Thomas was beginning to display, and now the fact that he was considering everybody a hostage. All of this felt so... tiring, and distant. Zach couldn't bring himself to care almost, and he began to think that maybe something was wrong with him. Well, something new at least.

This whole situation was bound to explode into something horrible, just like everything else had. He was certain. And knowing this, he figured that maybe someone would die again. It could even be him, and yet that didn't scare him at all. He just felt so cold to the world now, in contrast to when he originally arrived and had trouble sleeping after his near-death experience with one of the Carnage Sisters. He was certainly not the same man he was before, and while this thought had always sounded appealing to him, he never once considered that he could become even worse than before.

But... well, he could only muse about his encroaching apathy for so long. Even if he felt like it did not involve him, the truth of the matter was that not only was he involved, but so was Jezebel. Zachary was certainly not under the impression anything he was capable of could "save Jezebel", but if at the very least, he was useful to the person who had been so kind to him during his stay in this horrible, no good place, then that was good enough to motivate him to leave his room. And so he did just that, appearing before the rest of the people in the hallway shortly after Thomas' summons.

"Oh, I doubt very much anybody needs me." he stated to the man holding the group hostage in a tone very reminscant of the one he used when dealing with the good doctor or the Carnage Sisters. That is to say, he sounded fairly upset. "And play this game with our lives is not what I want to be doing with my time, but I suppose I have no choice." he sighed, glancing at Jezebel for a moment.

Didn't she shoot her arm or something yesterday? I feel like this should be brought up at some point, but I suppose that's not even the craziest thing that has happened recently. Maybe that's normal with clowns? I sure hope not.

Also just assume George Henry showed up earlier and hasn't done anything, I completely forgot what I wanted to do with him reee.

Jezebel was only able to stare back at Zachary, unable to discern what was going on in his head. She remained silent.



"That is correct, archer. Or I should say that would normally be correct." Thomas's tone was monotone, but it wasn't hard to picture him grinning as he continued to speak. "Without that eye, you likely don't have the depth perception you once did. If it was your primary eye, shooting would be like a right handed individual signing his name with their left hand." He scoffed. "But there is no point getting upset over it. We can build you a new eye. Most body parts can be entirely reconstructed with today's technology. But what's important right now is that you've chosen to show up here. As long as enough of you show up, we can defy the mastermind."



”Greg show up too.” Denis said, thumb hovering over the trigger.

"Thank you for confirming that, Spy. Remember that I can't actually look into your room right now. But if you see someone try to leave, it's very important that you blow everyone up."

”Understood.”

"And speaking of which, I can't really wait here forever. It'll only be a matter of time before the Carnage sisters or the bear attempt to deal with me. I haven't ruled out the possibility that a few of you are thinking of sneaking over here from the second floor. For this reason, I cannot wait much longer. If anything happens to me, and you do not all go to the first floor patient's quarters right now, you'll have killed everyone who is currently there." It was evident now. He was smiling. "Ventriloquist, caretaker, prodigy, matchmaker, you hold nearly twenty lives in your hands. If you wish to save them, and overthrow the mastermind, you need only come downstairs."

---

"What?!"

"You can't do this!"

Both the siblings yelled at Thomas once he said that they were then hostages as well. Just like that, their plan to be the heroes had fallen apart. Alice listened close as the biomechanic explained his plan involving a machine that could revive the dead. Bullshit. A part of her wanted to call Thomas out on his bullshit plan to overthrow Davis. The recon was reminded again and again that she couldnt bring those that died back, that she couldnt change the past even if she really wanted to.

But at the same time, she stayed silent. If this resurection machine thing actually worked, they could have everyone back to them. Marrianne, Mondatta, Rika, Felix, Aleecia...Mercy...all of them. They would all be free, in a way. Hell if such a thing even works, she could even bring back...

With her head lowered, Alice grabbed Henry's wrist. "Come on..." She said to him with a soft voice, walking over to the other hostages as she avoided eye contact. "Alice? Are we going to die?" Her brother asked her, visibly scared. She felt the same, but was trying her hardest to hide it. "I dont know. J-Just go wait with the others." The recon let go of the pianist and walked to the one person she didnt want to see be a part of this night of carnage in the first place. Without hesitation, Alice pulled Ice into a hug, not wanting to let go. "...Im scared." She admitted to him, shaking in place. "Look, if we dont make it out of this, there's something I wanna tell you-" the recon went silent when Thomas spoke up again, threatening the remaining few to group up with the rest if they wanted them to live. "Oh no, Faith!" Alice worried for the matchmaker. Faith already suffered enough, so she didnt want her to end up hurt. "Dont worry, from what you told me, shes a tough one, she'll pull through!" Henry reassured her as the pianist walked over to the door to Davis' room. "I hope your right..." The recon mumbled.

Enough.

It was easy for Ellie to fall back into her old habits. Up until now, she had considered just running downstairs and telling everyone how scared she was. She wanted someone to hug her and say it would all be alright. Everyone could use a hug right now. But at this moment, Ellie was one of the few people in a position to do something for the people downstairs. Now was the time to think about what was right for everyone around her, a truth that had eluded her until recently. The caretaker stepped out of her room. She was walking in the same direction as the stairs that lead to the first floor. However, that was not her destination. She walked past the staircase and headed towards the hospital's second floor.

”Thomas...” Her voice was carried directly to him via the string and cup system set up in her area. ”What are you planning Thomas? How is any of this going to stop the mastermind's game?” Before long, Emily came down the stairs and was now able to rest her eyes directly on Thomas. How close they were didn't really matter though. All Thomas had to do was give Dennis a reason to detonate himself and he would. The distance between them hardly mattered, but at least now she could rest her eyes on the boy that was tormenting everyone.

”Caretaker. You really shouldn’t have come. If the carnage sisters are not here nor in the lobby already -- then Davis is still entertaining me and my actions. If you're here, however, you will not be afforded that protection...”
Thomas sat alone within the confines of the POST room. He seemed to be passing time by doodling in some notebook -- the same one which contained the mysterious numbers and notes. His only reaction to her voice was a nonchalant toggle of some switch -- directing his response only towards her location. ”Of course, It wouldn’t be like you to heed my advice,” Thomas snapped his notebook shut, unintentionally sending the resulting crackle through the speakers directly into Ellie’s ears. He’d place his writing utensil on the desk, next to the controls of the speaker system.
”Well, there’s time; and seeing as this may the last request you ever make, I’ll brook it. Let’s start with what you know about Davis himself, Caretaker. Just from the few brief interactions you’ve had with him, what can you tell me about the Infinite Conquest?”

”He has an ego.” She folded her arms, but made sure to keep her stern gaze on Thomas. ”I won't call him intelligent, but he's very devious. Careful, Seems to have an understanding of how things work. That goes beyond just the the killer robots and this hospital, he knows just what to do to get us killing each other.” Emily snorted, but didn't break eye contact. ”He has a motive, though I'm not sure if it's the product of a sane mind. But he seems to have some end goal with this 'game' we're all playing.” she lifted her heel to scratch the back of her knee.

”Hmm? You never struck me as the observant type, Caretaker. This is a welcome surprise,” Thomas turned away from the POST System to face directly at Ellie. From this distance, she could see his sullen eyes. They were bleary; but even more than that, they were empty. Akin to those of a man on his deathbed.
”Ego, devious, game -- they’re all a part of who Davis really is, Ellie. He’s a showrunner, don’t you see it? He’s the host, hosting the game we're currently participants in.” Thomas abruptly splayed the notebook, turning directly to a page in the back. The movement was tremulous; his hands were still hardly functional from his stunt with Faith. How he was even able to hold the notebook at this point was beyond impressive; the fact that he was even wielding a pen before was simply astonishing.
Upon the header of the page was two number tens, both scribbled hastily and in large font. Directly below them was a name: Davis Gallo, followed by a crude and ominous sketch of who that name belongs to.
”But there's another, less maneuverable aspect of his self. Davis, for lack of a better term, is unbeatable. His means, no matter what the opposition may be, are always enough to achieve his end. That’s what it means to be the Infinite Conquest! He already knows that I’m trying to usurp him. He likely, no, certainly knew before I knew I was going to try to usurp him. Everything I’m doing right now, I’m doing because he’s letting me do it!” Thomas turned back to face the POST System. He fiddled with one switch, and then turned back to Ellie. He closed the notebook, and placed it next to where he had put the pen.
”And right now, he's letting me hold his participants hostage. For me to have gotten this far, Davis had to have given me some ground. Do you understand now, Ellie? For us to win, Davis also has to win.”

”I’m offering him a win, something that will satisfy his need to put on a show. In return, I will get one opportunity to end his killing game. So, please, Ellie. I need you to trust me, and go to the lobby downstairs. If you can do that, by this time tomorrow -- Davis will be an old nightmare.”

It was difficult for Ellie to retain her composure. She had been beside people on their deathbeds before. She watched the life drain out of people's faces as she was powerless to do anything. Terminally ill patients that would perish despite her best efforts. But in a way, that was easier than dealing with a moment like this where there was clearly something she could do. She unfolded her arms and placed them at her sides.

”Thomas, I believe I called you my hope last time we spoke. That was incorrect, and I apologize for it.” She flexed her fingers. ”You were an excuse, something I could use to project my behavior on. You were something I could use to justify my air headed behavior. I could get people's attention by babying you.” She took a step closer to the POST room. ”What's interesting is that you're an excuse for everyone now. You were an excuse for Damiyon to retrieve the handbook, and an excuse for Jezebel to then attack him for the hand book. Now you're an excuse to quietly enter the blast radius of an emotionally distraught spy. ” Her legs were shaking, but it didn't stop her from taking another step. ”Fear is a very powerful motivator. You have nearly everyone right where you want them. But this isn't going to work on me. I've spent far too much time gripped by fear to walk into it's clutches again.” She stopped. Emily must have been standing a few feet away from Thomas now. The distance didn't mean anything, but the air between them tensed up further. ”You're probably feeling more fear than any of us. That's how fear works. That's why parents tell their children scary stories. They want to make their children share in their fears. Anyone who offers candy is a criminal, monsters lurk around at night, all stories designed to bestow fear onto others.” Emily hadn't blinked once since she spotted Thomas. ”You're caught up in his game. Killing us won't do anything. He'll just send in more contestants. Please, it's late...” Emily closed her eyes. ”Get some rest.”

”More… contestants? More contestants?” Thomas would take a deep breathe. Any ounce of empathy which his voice had previously harbored was washed away, replaced with callous regard of Emily’s dismissal. “Sure, Caretaker. There’s hundreds, maybe even thousands of infinites which Davis could replace us with. I mean, me and you, we’ve seen first hand just how many consecutive killing games there might be.”
”But Caretaker, if we’re replaceable; then why do new infinites keep getting sent to this killing game in particular? Why does Davis personally address us at the end of every trial? Why is no one ever extradited from this killing game into another one? Why did Davis call this the Candidate’s Killing Game during the last night of carnage? Don’t you think that we’re important, Ellie?” At the end of his tirade, Thomas once again grabbed his marker, and began to twirl it around his fingers.
”And Caretaker. Even if we’re not important. Even if we’re as worthless as pawns to Davis -- isn’t this at least entertaining?”

There was just no end to it. Thomas was clearly set in his ways, and would continue to use these underhanded tactics to get what he wanted. He might have had most of them scared, but Emily wasn't going to partake in Thomas's game. She wanted to believe him, but in his sorry state it was impossible. He was a mad man, plain and simple.

The monitors all over Axis Mundi flickered. Before long a figure appeared on each and every one of them. It wasn't Monokuma, a carnage sister, or even Davis. It was a live feed showing the cubicle Thomas had locked himself in, from the outside. Emily looked over her head and noticed a camera pointed right at him. That was clearly what the monitors were running off of. Not long after, a voice came over the speakers. It too could be heard all over the giant hospital: The voice of Davis Gallo.

”I am unsure if I should feel pride or outrage over your description of me, Thomas.” He sounded intrigued. The monitor's screen split. On the right side was the feed of Thomas in the post room, and on the left was Davis. He was sitting in a chair with his hands pressed together, much like a schemer might. ”If you've been trying to get my attention, now you have it.”

”Caretaker, I’m afraid that our time here is up. If you stay, and I’m sure you will, you won’t just be acting against your own interest -- you’re turning your back on the people downstairs who need you right now. Irregardlessly, from now onward I will be paying you exactly as much heed as you are to me, that is to say, none at all. Consider it a courtesy that I even tell you this.”

Emily wasn't sure if Thomas was just inciting fear again, or genuinely cared about her safety. Regardless, Davis's sudden appearance made her feel very uncomfortable. She moved towards the entrance of the patient's quarters as their conversation continued.

Thomas cocked an eyebrow at Ellie, and flashed her a vivacious smile. He ceased playing with the pen, and swiveled back towards the POST system. He had already reset the machine to broadcast his voice across Axis Mundi while fiddling with it before, and only needed to press one button to turn the system back on. His voice was once again broadcast across the entire building of Axis Mundi.
”Personally, Mr. Gallo; I would swell with pride to hear those words. Especially when they’re coming from none other than myself.” Thomas would raise a finger to his cheek thoughtfully. ”You know, Davis. Before we continue, there’s a question that’s I’ve been itching for an answer to. Something I’ve wanted to know ever since I became a participant in this killing game.”
”Shaun Ellen, the Infinite Web Designer -- that was just a facade, wasn’t it? They were hiding something -- perhaps, something about their identity?”

”Erin Steele used many personas as the infinite trickster. Shaun Ellen was likely the most convincing one he could pull off under the circumstances. Perhaps he got too sloppy with his time in the mafia and simply decided it would be easier to create a string of new identities instead of separating his real one. I do not know – or rather, I do not care – why he chose to go about hiding his identity this way.”

Davis rolled his head side to side until his neck cracked. ”He's old news now. Simply the second round in a string of killing games.” Davis placed his hands together again. ”I'm more interested in what you're doing right now.”

”Steele...” Thomas caught the thought, and mulled through it abruptly. ”That's right. I saw a picture of him once, taken when he was... ah, eight, or nine years old, I believe. I recall he had truly incredibly zygomatics for his age. Really, it’s disappointing to think I ever forgot about them,” Idly, he pawed for his notebook again, and flipped to the page about Ellen.
”Cassandra Steele. A neurologist. Back maybe three years ago, I read about her in a scholarly magazine. Cassandra and her husband Jonathan were magnates in the medical community. Their son, Erin Steele, has been missing for… ah, twelve years at this point. I'm so glad that I've finally figured out what happened to him.”

The broadcast took on a colder tone as Thomas continued to speak. ”I once knew another missing person too, Davis. Someone who abruptly disappeared one day, to never be seen again. I don’t think of him often -- me and this person, we had our differences -- but I recall at one point he mentioned you. We were talking about people who could beat me in chess, actually. He told me about a man who was called Perfection not as an adjective, but as a name. A man who had never lost.”
”When he said Perfection, he meant Davis Gallo. I’m certain of it.” Thomas paused, and stared at Davis knowingly. The stare told Davis and everyone watching that Thomas knew something more that he wasn’t saying.

”Perfection, understand this for what it is; a question. If you’re one of the patients of this hospital, then surely -- even if it’s only a physical technically -- that mantra would be a misnomer? If that were the case, you’d then be imperfect, wouldn’t you?”

Davis audibly scoffed at the remark. ”The perfection moniker isn't something I've taken seriously for a decade now. I stopped calling myself perfection the day my wife to be died. From that day forward, I was a Neoslayer. But as the event was nothing I wanted to remember, I allowed people to continue calling me Perfection.” He balled his hands into fists, but kept them together under his chin. ”But I did not play chess with very many people. I can only think of a few people I might have played regularly with.” His eyes rolled up to look through the screen at Thomas. ”You must be talking about your father.”

You did know him...

Thomas's eyes briefly glimmered at the answer, as if he were given an answer to a long standing question. Continuing to look down at the page dedicated to Shaun Ellen, Thomas then began to make adjustments to his writings -- subtracting, adding, and otherwise changing the observations on the page. ”Perhaps I was, Davis. We should play a game one day. Although, thinking of it now… I don’t think I’ve ever actually played chess before. I don’t even remember why we were discussing people that could beat me in chess back then. Really, I’ve always been on the sidelines, watching people play, daydreaming of what I’d do if I was just given a chance to play the game.”
”Don’t you think I’d be good at it, Davis? It’s not exactly my talent, but I think I’m a pretty strategic thinker. Afterall, if I wasn’t, then you wouldn’t even be here right now, and I’d have already met your wife. The real one.”

”If you knew my father, then I’d like you to understand I’m his crowning achievement. Anything that was good about him, I was bestowed. And anything that was bad, any weakness, he wrought out of me. His credibility and qualities, his name -- our name, is my résumé.“

”Chess is a relatively simple game. You would probably be good at it.” Davis reached out of screen and dragged a table in front of himself. There was a white handkerchief resting on a table cloth. ”I trust your father's judgment in that regard, even if his talent was running. If he was young enough, he could have been an ultimate student. He would have been Thomas Herringson: The Ultimate Runner.” He took the handkerchief and tucked it into his shirt. ”But it's interesting that you should bring up having none of your father's weaknesses. When a father passes his aspirations down to his son, he tends to cause them to acquire different types of defects, no? A crack in the surface of a cheesecake is a sign of quality, after all. ” The arm of a carnage sister placed some food before Davis. It wasn't a cheese cake however, but a broiled chicken. His food was garnished with lemon slices and a scattering of garlic. Even on the monitor, the steam coming off of the warm chicken let everyone know it was still hot. Davis's eyes moved onto his meal, seemingly dismissing the camera that was aimed at him. ”You're stalling, Thomas.” Davis used a fork to cut into the chicken, allowing more steam to escape. ”Consider your resumé read and your interview nearly over. What do you want?”

Emily was watching it all unfold on a monitor just inside of the patient's quarters. However, there was a commotion by the door into Davis's room. While she was here, there was no point in seeing what was going on. Maybe Thomas was right, and someone needed her right now.