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Author Topic: Dreamweaver: A Deadman Wonderland Fanfiction (M)  (Read 1567 times)

Offline KuroBara

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Dreamweaver: A Deadman Wonderland Fanfiction (M)
« on: May 03, 2012, 17:06 »
This is my latest fanfiction. :D It's based on Deadman Wonderland, but I'd say that even if you haven't watched/ read it, you can still understand the story. All in all, there should be about 6 parts, which should equate to around 30 chapters.
Oh, and I should warn you that it's recommended for older teen because of gore and graphic violence. Enjoy, and please leave a comment telling me what you think, even if you only read the epilogue! ^^

Stage 00: The End

Life… Why does it always have to end so soon? When the promising bloom of a new light shines through, it's always washed away in a dark red tide.
Is that why I'm here right now? Perhaps it was my own fault, but I can't see that light anymore. Everything's dark, but I can tell than there's whiteness around me- it's burning through my clothes, piercing me. There are other people as well, maybe ten thousand, maybe one, but they all share one voice- it's the voice of amusement, of cheering. They're cheering for me.
Because I'm about to die.

PART 1

Stage 01: Not Exactly a Wonderland
“You’re slacking- come on, move it!”
The woman who was watching us all move in our procession barked like a dog, sending the person in front of me tripping over their own feet. I paused, considering whether I should help or not, but mere seconds later I knew it would be suicidal to stop- here, you only looked out for yourself. That was what they’d told me on the journey. It seemed like that kind of place, anyway, as if there was nobody left in the world who would take you in. After all, we were just criminals- who would want us?
My eyes flicked from one face to another- what crimes had they committed? Someone with a ripe scar etched across his cheek scowled threateningly at me when our views locked, and quickly I looked away. There was no doubt that I was the youngest one here. It was evident that everyone had been out of school for several years, whereas I was only in my sixth year of Mizuhana High. If I weren’t here, I would be in geography now… I’d never liked the subject- in fact I detested it- but I would’ve given my soul to substitute here for there. It was so cold, like even the warmth of the sun had fled. The plain grey suits we had been placed in gave us little protection, so as far as I could see, everyone was shivering. That didn’t stop the woman overlooking us from opening her mouth and ordering us to move faster every few seconds.
This was Deadman Wonderland, the notorious prison that resembled a fairground from the outside, where the inmates were forced to take part in games to please the public. Being Japan's only privately- owned institute of detention, it relied on funding from the crowds of visitors that flooded the stadium stands every day to see prisoners sacrifice their dignity to entertain the screaming audiences, who would hack and cackle at the acts like scavengers round a decaying carcass. That much I knew about the terror that I was about to be thrust head- first into.
"Hey lady, you've got a nice cleavage."
The sudden silence that fell was almoat tangible-you could feel it filling up the room, halting everyone's movements as they stopped and stared at the one who had spoke, a man standing directly in front of me. The way he'd said it had just been so... Blunt. There was no other way to describe the words he'd spoken.
Twenty pairs of eyes turned towards the woman apprehensively, awaiting her next move. For about half a minute, there was none, but then she stirred and leaned onto one hip.
"Hmm?"
The footsteps that ensued were slow and purposeful, and I could tell that she was enjoying the sound of the heels colliding with the floor. It struck me with fear- I felt a deep terror for the one who had spoken, as if it was me who had said it. My lungs filled with air as I held my breath, awaiting what was to come.
"So, is that what you think?" The woman's face was merely an inch away from the man's, but it wasn't as though he could've done anything to hurt her- he was chained tight, and she was armed with a pistol that I had no doubt she'd use when the situation called for it.
No sound came from the man- he just stared hard into her eyes, defying her bitter stare with one of his own.
All of a sudden the woman drew something that resembled a sharp metal stick from where it had been hanging on her belt and pushed it into the man's stomach. I saw it burst through the other side, sending a few spots of blood to meet the ground. The man's face was that of shock- perhaps he knew something like this was coming, but didn't expect the pain. The metal bar remained sheathed within him for a few moments before it was pulled back sharply, allowing the man freedom of movement once again. It was almost unreal and somewhat dream- like, the way the blood sprayed from his stomach, staining the clothes of the woman in front of him. Yet still he made no sound, only swayed drunkenly and fell onto his front in a pool of glossy red that was expanding gradually from his body.
I, too, found myself colliding with the cold floor, dizzy as though I'd just been spun round several times. Perhaps I had- the world was rotating, gyrating, pulsating as I lay, feeling a twisting pain developing within my chest. It only took a few seconds before the warm liquid met my gasping lips, and then everything faded.

Stage 02: Enter The Rook
Slowly my eyes opened.
It appeared that I was in a hospital ward, or the equivalent that a prison like this could provide. The walls of the small room were the standard white, but the doors were metal and barred, making escape an impossible option. It wasn't as if I had any desires to escape at that moment anyway- my head wouldn't stop continuously spinning, and I could feel myself shaking slightly.
I looked to my left, and almost jumped when I saw that someone was stirring on the bed next to me. The unknown figure with an untidy mess of black hair hugging his face to his chin sat up and looked in my direction. Shocked, I realized I knew his face from before.
"You... You're the one in the hall! The one who..." I paused when I saw his look.
"Yeah, that was me," he mumbled bitterly, but suddenly his face took on a whole new light, and he grinned. "Come on, you were thinking it too."
I tried to remember the woman- I'd been concentrating on her bark and trying to obey her orders more than anything else, but now that I visualized her I found myself subconsciously agreeing with the man.
It was apparent that he was about five years older than me, one of the younger ones out of the handful of criminals I'd faced before. His features were sharp and his skin pale, almost too pale for someone of Japanese origin- however, he didn't look foreign. The contrast of this and his hair, black as the feathers of a rook or similar bird, made him look slightly ill- perhaps he suffered from anaemia or something similar.
He stood and made his way across the small space between our beds to me, and as he did I fully noticed the cloth that was wrapped round his stomach. He didn't wear a top, so his torso, the bottom half of which was wrapped in grubby white bandages, was exposed. He wasn't overly- muscled, like me, but looked as though he regularly took part in sport, one that required the player to be fast and agile, but at the same time able to stand their ground. As for me, my ability to do any kind of sport was about equal to the chance someone may have of rolling a nine on a six- sided dice- absolute zero.
"Nishi Inarami."
I stared at the hand that was outstretched towards me, and slowly shook it. I was quite impressed at the fact that he acted as if his wound was nothing, as if he didn't have a gaping hole pierced through his vital organs. If it were me, I would probably have been lying in agony at that moment. Or maybe the doctors had drugged him up so much that he couldn't even feel the pain- this seemed like the kind of place where that would be a normal procedure.
"Hey blondie, did you faint because of the blood or something? I saw you hit the ground beside me before I went out," Nishi said.
I felt my head impulsively lower in shame- it was ridiculous to be afraid of blood, especially at my age. Though it wasn't as much a fear as an impulse- the sight of it just made me unstable, so much so that whenever I encountered considerable amounts if it I blacked out without warning. Even a papercut occasionally proved a hazard- the sight of red was just something that I couldn't stand no matter how much I tried to resist it.
"Yes," I said slowly, embarassed. "Passing out when I see blood isn't rare for me- it's pathetic, I know."
Nishi laughed. "You sure as hell wouldn't want me to take off these grotty things, then." He motioned towards his bandages. "That cow sure did a number on me- I couldn't actually believe she'd stabbed me all the way through until I felt the skin on my back pop open..."
"Please, don't…" I begged. The memories of the incident were coming back to me, and I was doing my best to push them to the back of my mind.
"Oh, sorry," he said. "I forgot you're a weirdo." He punched my shoulder playfully.
There was a silence, in which I shifted uncomfortably and Nishi continued to stand in front of me. All of a sudden, the quiet was broken when he exclaimed and clapped his hands together once. "Oh, I knew I'd forgotten something! Sorry, blondie- I forgot to ask your name."
"My name?" At once the dilemma of whether or not to tell him came into my head. Sure, he seemed friendly, but was it just an act to gain my trust? I knew from experience that sometimes giving away too much information about yourself was about the worst thing you could do.
However, it was a pointless consideration, as the heavy sound of metal bolts being slid over each other marked the opening of the door on the right side of the room.
"Jana Rizuku," a hard male voice said, and my whole body went stiff. "Follow us.”
B|

Offline KuroBara

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Re: Dreamweaver: A Deadman Wonderland Fanfiction (M)
« Reply #1 on: May 03, 2012, 17:07 »
Stage 03: The Rules

"Oi, scum," the man spat as the woman timidly placed her hand on his arm, probably to calm him down. I lifted my head from where I'd been staring at the floor and looked at him inquiringly, awaiting his question or statement. I was doing my absolute best not to convey my fear in my face or actions. Being called 'scum' was negligible- it was the fear of not knowing that scared me so such. The games I'd heard of, the Gladiator races and fights that took place here... Would I be forced it take part in them? Perhaps I'd meet other people, inmates in the same helpless position as me, who'd offer me some support at least. It wasn't as though I deserved the company though, not after what I'd done to get myself here. I had no desire to revisit that memory. Ever.
Or... Maybe they'd torture me. Was that legal nowadays? The corrupt society of 2023 Japan would probably turn a blind eye to a privately- owned institute torturing its prisoners, the filth of its country. Feeling slightly faint, I wrapped my arms round my hips and squeezed slightly, holding myself together as if I was already being ripped apart.
"What are you doing?" The man was eyeing me as if I was a different species to him.
I didn't reply, but felt myself shaking without my realizing it before- I must've looked like a pathetic wreck to the two workers.
"You're the one that passed out in the hall, aren't you?"
I nodded.
The man muttered something bitterly, then continued. "Stupid dirt- wipes haven't told you the rules then. Fine."
It seemed as though he was just looking for a chance to assert his aggressiveness at anything and everything. His tone conveyed his irritation, and his eyes were filled with a type of irrational anger that had no obvious cause, but just existed.
Meanwhile the woman, a short bespectacled girl with brown hair pulled back into a bun and a white lab coat, looked nervous. Obviously the man's spitefulness had left her uneasy, but now that all that rage was chanelled towards me, I was frozen solid. He was twice the size of me, and what's more, he had a gun.
"You're in prison," he said. "I don't know how you got here, nor do I give a damn about your little adventures into the hands of a law, but let me make one thing clear to you: there's no escape for you. You're in death row, so whether you live or die is for all of us to decide." He seemed to have some satisfaction in saying that.
The man turned to the side and eyed me at an obscure angle, like he was a storyteller trying to build up suspense during a reading- his mood had dramatically changed from aggressive to taunting.
“That thing around your neck…”
Immediately my hands flew to my neck, and I realized with absolute horror that there was something there, a hard, plastic ring that encircled me. I hadn’t noticed it before, perhaps because it fitted so snugly in the area at the base of my throat, but now that it was there I panicked. How many other moderations had they placed on my body?
“Through that device you are being constantly fed a set amount of poison,” he explained.
My eyes widened- poison? Was he using my shredded nerves as an opportunity to tease me further? I was already on the brink of falling to the ground and curling up in a ball to try and escape from the intense feat that was clawing away at my insides. Perhaps the only reason I hadn’t done so already was because the terror of my situation had frozen my body stiff as a board.
Sensing my increased anxiety, the man smiled maliciously. “Don’t worry- you won’t die for a while. The poison takes three days to build up before you die. And since you’re on death row, nobody cares whether you survive or not, so long as you provide some entertainment while you’re at it.”
Once again the man chuckled, but it was a dark sound, not a laugh of genuine happiness. It was as if he was anticipating an event, that he knew something I didn’t. I had no doubt that he possessed this knowledge, but I felt too unwell to ask him- I didn’t want to know anything more about this Deadman Wonderland, only wanted to get out of here as fast as I could before I obtained any more twisted information regarding my situation.
As I was marched along the bland corridor, I hated the ring that was clamped around my neck like a dog lead, and one question lay waste to my nerves more than any other.
What kind of sick game is this?

Stage 04: Casts and Candy

The door slid shut behind me and sounded with a metallic clang. Anxiously I looked around.
The cell was larger than I'd thought it would be, but maybe that was because it housed two beds as opposed to one. It adopted the monotonous colour scheme of grey and white that gave Deadman Wonderland its character, or rather lack of it. As for the room itself, it seemed to only contain what was necessary- a single set of drawers, cabinets for minor storage, not that I had anything to put in them, and a bed on either side of the cell. Perched on one of them, I noticed, was a figure, who looked up at my arrival.
"Jana? It is you! We're roommates!"
Nishi stood to greet me, smiling like we'd been friends for ages, when in actuality I'd met him once. He'd since had a device identical to mine installed on his neck- just looking at it made me feel nauseous. Its artificial form seemed to initiate a countdown in my head, one that would inevitably end in my death.
It appeared that Nishi could sense my unease, so he paused his advance and said, "Huh? Are you alright?"
It was difficult to form the words, but somehow I managed to voice my thoughts, even if they were a stuttered mess. "W-We're going t-to die in three days."
Nishi's eyes widened, but then softened again, and he began to laugh. "Ah, no we're not. I've got Candy."
My face must've looked a picture as I tried to comprehend whether he was serious or not.
"Huh? Didn't they tell you about the Candy?"
I felt my head shaking.
"They told you about the neck thingies but not about the Candy? What about Cast Points? Games?"
It was all new to me. "No."
Nishi rolled his eyes playfully. "No wonder you're so worried! God, if I thought I was going to drop dead in three days..." A clump of thick black hair fell over his eyes, but flew back again with a flick of his head before continuing. "Apparently the Candy is an antidote to the poison, and one piece taken every three days is enough to stop it from taking effect. You purchase them using Cast Points, which you collect on these cards." He produced a flat rectangular object, similar in size and appearance to a bank card, from the pocket of his grey prison uniform and held it up for me to see. "You basically use Cast Points as a currency for everything- meals, snacks, betting chips among other prisoners... They're like a life source. And if you want more, you have to compete in games."
"Games? You mean like the ones people come here to see?"
"They just said 'games'- I presume that's what they mean." Nishi shrugged. "I mean, they're just acts with a load of special effects added in to give them a gory edge. The worst thing that could happen is you get a little bashed up, but anything else is illegal."
Subconsciously my eyes fell to my roommate's stomach. The wound was covered up by his one- piece suit now, but I knew that it was still lurking there. I had my doubts about these 'special effects'- would a place that injured its inmates in that way bother to use such tactics to entertain its visitors when no- one could tell the difference? I prayed, prayed, prayed that my suspicions were incorrect, but something about this place just seemed to warped and... Wrong.
From outside the cell's door came the sudden crashing of metal and steps. The footfalls came faster and faster, as if the person to whome they belonged was desperately searching for something. I turned and walked up to the door, but as I looked around something slammed into the bars, causing the whole structure to shake. Inches away from me was a face, distorted as if in unbelievable agony, and gasping.
"Don't let me die," it begged.

Stage 04: Casts and Candy

The door slid shut behind me and sounded with a metallic clang. Anxiously I looked around.
The cell was larger than I'd thought it would be, but maybe that was because it housed two beds as opposed to one. It adopted the monotonous colour scheme of grey and white that gave Deadman Wonderland its character, or rather lack of it. As for the room itself, it seemed to only contain what was necessary- a single set of drawers, cabinets for minor storage, not that I had anything to put in them, and a bed on either side of the cell. Perched on one of them, I noticed, was a figure, who looked up at my arrival.
"Jana? It is you! We're roommates!"
Nishi stood to greet me, smiling like we'd been friends for ages, when in actuality I'd met him once. He'd since had a device identical to mine installed on his neck- just looking at it made me feel nauseous. Its artificial form seemed to initiate a countdown in my head, one that would inevitably end in my death.
It appeared that Nishi could sense my unease, so he paused his advance and said, "Huh? Are you alright?"
It was difficult to form the words, but somehow I managed to voice my thoughts, even if they were a stuttered mess. "W-We're going t-to die in three days."
Nishi's eyes widened, but then softened again, and he began to laugh. "Ah, no we're not. I've got Candy."
My face must've looked a picture as I tried to comprehend whether he was serious or not.
"Huh? Didn't they tell you about the Candy?"
I felt my head shaking.
"They told you about the neck thingies but not about the Candy? What about Cast Points? Games?"
It was all new to me. "No."
Nishi rolled his eyes playfully. "No wonder you're so worried! God, if I thought I was going to drop dead in three days..." A clump of thick black hair fell over his eyes, but flew back again with a flick of his head before continuing. "Apparently the Candy is an antidote to the poison, and one piece taken every three days is enough to stop it from taking effect. You purchase them using Cast Points, which you collect on these cards." He produced a flat rectangular object, similar in size and appearance to a bank card, from the pocket of his grey prison uniform and held it up for me to see. "You basically use Cast Points as a currency for everything- meals, snacks, betting chips among other prisoners... They're like a life source. And if you want more, you have to compete in games."
"Games? You mean like the ones people come here to see?"
"They just said 'games'- I presume that's what they mean." Nishi shrugged. "I mean, they're just acts with a load of special effects added in to give them a gory edge. The worst thing that could happen is you get a little bashed up, but anything else is illegal."
Subconsciously my eyes fell to my roommate's stomach. The wound was covered up by his one- piece suit now, but I knew that it was still lurking there. I had my doubts about these 'special effects'- would a place that injured its inmates in that way bother to use such tactics to entertain its visitors when no- one could tell the difference? I prayed, prayed, prayed that my suspicions were incorrect, but something about this place just seemed to warped and... Wrong.
From outside the cell's door came the sudden crashing of metal and steps. The footfalls came faster and faster, as if the person to whome they belonged was desperately searching for something. I turned and walked up to the door, but as I looked around something slammed into the bars, causing the whole structure to shake. Inches away from me was a face, distorted as if in unbelievable agony, and gasping.
"Don't let me die," it begged.

PART 1/ END
B|

Offline KuroBara

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Re: Dreamweaver: A Deadman Wonderland Fanfiction (M)
« Reply #2 on: May 03, 2012, 17:08 »
PART 2

Stage 06: Tamaki Tsunenaga, Puppet Master

“Jana! Jana? Jana!”
The voice was soft and unhurried, but seemed to change tone every tone, sometimes enquiring, sometimes exclaiming, and sometimes merely drifting off into nothingness.
When my eyes opened, my line of vision was blocked by a grinning face. Was it a puppet? A mask? The features were taut and stretched in such an exaggerated way it seemed like the whole composure was an artificial creation, but all of a sudden it moved, and I understood that it was genuine.
“Jana. That’s what they call you, isn’t it?”
When I failed to reply from uncertainty of whether or not it was safe to, the man stood up and started to slowly walk away from me. His face dropped slightly, but he still wore that fake grin that made him look like a child’s toy. Or perhaps something from a horror movie.
I realized that I was sitting down, taped to a chair by Velcro bands that dripped my ankles, wrists and waist. The room was another hospital ward, but there was a great deal more machinery here, and a hell of a lot more security, as well as a desk and chair in the middle of the room. For one thing, we weren’t the only ones here- a woman clutching a clipboard between the folds of her white lab coat stood nervously in the corner, and guarding the metal door were two guards with guns, probably loaded and ready to shoot. Were they for me? What did I have to do for them to pull the trigger? Was I that dangerous? Immediately my heart’s pace sped up, setting a machine to my left in motion as it began to give out high- pitched peeps in time with my pulse.
The man looked out from under a pair of flashing glasses.“So you’ve noticed the guns? Don’t worry- they won’t shoot unless you use your Branches of Sin. Do we have a deal?”
The patronizing way in which he spoke, and his voice, with a slight croak that gave me the impression he was on the brink of sanity, teetering between the divide that split normal behaviour and utter lunacy into two categories. Despite his seemingly normal dress, mop of dark grey hair, brushed neatly to either side, and thin glasses, the rest of his appearance was completely out of sync- he frightened me.
I shifted uneasily, and he seemed to notice this, raising his eyebrows inquiringly. “Oh, so you are already aware of your Branches of Sin and the powers you possess?”
He seemed to have completely misunderstood my reaction, but in a way I was relieved- I didn’t want to let him know how scared I was, how confused I felt, and of the utter fear that I had been in possession of and haunted by since my first step into Deadman Wonderland.
“Hmm, I wonder... Jana Rizuku, age 17, blood type AB, nationality Japanese, prisoner number 106905... What do you think about my Wonderland? Does it suit your liking?” His glasses flashed.
What did I think? Words couldn’t communicate my feelings for this place- a mixture of disgust, hatred, terror, contempt, horror, shock, sadness and an utter loss of hope had filled me as a result of what I’d seen, a stain on my soul. Inside I was shaking, outside I was rock solid, and my nerves had been reduced to mere threads, ground away by the bloodshed I’d faced. I’d been here a few hours, half a day at most, and so far a man had been stabbed through, and another left to die in the corridor, presumably because the clock on his poison ring had run out. Would that happen to me? Was I going to die in agony as well?
“Y-yes,” I replied shakily.
“Wonderful!” He fell back onto the revolving chair and spun around, laughing and flailing his arms in apparent ecstasy. I found myself shooting an anxious glance at the two guards, but they maintained their hard glares at the wall behind me, as if this was completely normal.
Gradually, the chair’s rotations slowed down, and the man frowned, but then resumed his clown- like smile and pressed the pointed ends of his thin fingers together.
“I’m glad you like it here,” he said. “I’m also glad I got to speak with you, Jana Rizuku, number 106905. If that’s how you feel, then you’re going to love my other surprises. For now though, my two friends will lead you out.”
With that, the two attendants came to untie me, but their faces were hard, as if they abhorred the man resting in the chair, and I wondered if there was such thing as ‘friends’ in Deadman Wonderland.

Stage 07: How It Works

The next week was a blur. I was taken back to a different cell in a completely different block- there were fewer people here, I could tell, but the atmosphere was pretty much the same as in the other area I’d been placed in before. Nishi had also been transferred as well, it seemed, so we became roommates once again. There was no choice for me really, but I wasn’t going to complain- he was good to have around, and his loud, choppy personality was an antidote to the dismal corner in which I stayed. He took my card, with its Cast Points that had been pre- installed onto it, every day and bought me food for breakfast and dinner. It wasn’t something I’d asked him to do, but after I’d refused to step outside of the cell bars, he’d taken the card and brought me back a pasty in a brown bag. Now he did it every day, trading my points for food, whilst I remained on my bed, my back against the wall and chin resting on my legs. And he’d started calling me ‘blondie’ too, as a joke, but it didn’t really bother me.
We were allowed to walk around the enclosed block for most of the day hours. In fact, it was only at night that we were locked inside our rooms. The guards came round every morning and evening with their keys, rounding up the herds of prisoners and chasing them into their cells- nobody objected, and everyone obeyed. Like Nishi, they’d begun to call me ‘blondie’ as well, and jeered every time they walked up to the door and slid the key in. As the days of emotionless sitting went by, my hair became more and more greasy, and they seemed to notice this- first of all it was ‘blondie’, then ‘greasy blondie’, and finally one of them exclaimed, ‘wash your hair, greaseball’. The insults weren’t all that imaginative, and obviously intended to be spiteful, but what could I do? Whenever they shouted out something to me from across the room, they narrowed their eyes and sneered, challenging me. They had absolute power over me, something which I’d never had in my life over anyone, so I knew that if I so much as spoke back, I’d be punished. I had no intention to try and defend myself, though- I was fully aware of the fact I was growing dirty, but I didn’t want to move. For one, I was too afraid of going outside after everything that had happened, yet there was something much more serious on my mind.
Flashbacks.

Stage 08: Empty

“Hey, Jana- anything in particular you want today?”
Nishi grabbed his card off the side along with my own, but quickly spun his head around when I unfurled my legs and pushed them along. I was completely stiff, since I’d been sleeping and sitting in this position since yesterday afternoon, when I’d had to leave the bed for a toilet break, and my muscles ached from being pushed against my chest for so long. Like a tightly- wound piece of string that was suddenly being unravelled, I stretched myself out and slowly slid off the bed.
“It’s okay, I’ll go,” I said to Nishi.
“Uh, right…” He handed me my points card and moved out of the way of the door, his facial expression more surprised than anything. I smiled weakly, then stepped outside the cell.
The corridor adopted the standard Deadman Wonderland colour scheme- grey and white. The space was wide, with cell doors breaking the walls at regular intervals, and curved round so that I couldn’t see more than ten metres in front of me. For some reason my heart was beating out of control once again- it was probably because I hadn’t been outside of my room for a week, and was anticipating what could be outside. Apart from occasional words to Nishi, the last person I’d spoken to had been the director of this prison, whose name I had later found out from my roommate to be Tamaki Tsunenaga. Despite being here for the same amount of time as me, Nishi seemed to know a lot more about the ways and practices of this place. Perhaps it was because he walked round a lot, or perhaps he had been told by others. Perhaps no- one had bothered to tell me anything at all.
A small area, like a clearing in a forest, but not enclosed enough to be considered a room, lay ahead of me. Inmates of both genders talked and moved around, and on the left were three vending machines. They seemed like the kind you found all over Japan, where you selected what you wanted and it was deposited at the bottom, but as I walked over and examined them closer I found that they each had a slot that was adapted to taking cards as opposed to money.
My own card was in my hand, so I slid it into the machine and waited. Almost at once, red generic writing next to the hole appeared and instructed me to make a selection out of the displayed dishes- I obeyed.
“Hey, hurry up!” a voice behind me ordered.
I didn’t turn around, but felt myself becoming more and more uncomfortable as I waited for the machine to process the information. At last, something solid hit the base, and I bent down, picked it up and turned. However, I was stopped by something as I tried to move, and realized that I was being held in place by a hand on my shoulder. The skin was weathered with scars and general wear, and as I looked up I saw that the owner reflected this- he was about a head taller than me, burly, and had black hair that stuck up untidily, as if it was supposed to represent the feathers of a ferocious animal or bird. He’d obviously lost sight in his right eye, since it was covered with a dark patch, but the visible one was staring at me intently.
“Forgotten anything?”
I twisted my head round to the machine and inspected it for a second time- for a moment I couldn’t see what he was talking about, but then my attention fell upon my card, which was sticking out of the slot. My hand stretched out to remove it, but the man’s voice sounded again, making me jump.
“Check the screen.”
Confused, I peered at the digital space next to the slot, and felt my body go completely rigid.

Thank you for using this machine. You have -0- Cast Points left.
Have a nice day.
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Offline KuroBara

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Re: Dreamweaver: A Deadman Wonderland Fanfiction (M)
« Reply #3 on: May 03, 2012, 17:09 »
Stage 09: A Solution…?

The man grinned crookedly. “Oops.”
No points left. I had nothing left. My currency, my very life, was reduced to zero. The thought was preposterous- I was dead. How was I going to buy Candy? My thoughts were so frenzied and clouded with black that I couldn’t order or make sense of them, but somehow I managed to iron them out for a moment, just long enough to inject some logic into them. The last time the taste of Candy had filled my mouth had been this morning, when Nishi had brought me one of the black- and- white- wrapped sweets as an antidote to the poison that was seeping into my arteries had been this morning. That meant I had less than three days. Three days before I… Died. Before I died. Before the scales tipped, and the toxins became too much for my body to handle. Then I’d start coughing blood, and it’d flow out of my joints. I’d run rampage uncontrollably, trying to quell the agony boiling under my skin like oil. In my last moments of life I’d suffer pain that made death seem like a heavenly place.
Three days.
“Are you alright?” The man’s smile had dropped, and his tone was a little concerned, but not overly.
I nodded vigorously, yet found that I was swaying unsteadily. Other people were staring at me with enquiring eyes, but I ignored them and was instead trying desperately to keep my head as far away from the ground as possible- I’d learnt that if I did that, I could work out which way was up and therefore prevent my descent to the floor. However, my reasoning failed, and the ground began to race towards me at an alarming speed until it was the only thing supporting my head. I didn’t lose to unconsciousness, though- I crouched there, panting, completely and utterly hollow.
“Hey, kid- what’s wrong? You worried about the Cast Points?”
My reply was a groan that came from deep within my throat.
“Here.”
A set of hands grabbed the back of my collar and dragged me back, pulling me so that I was sitting against the nearest wall. I shuddered once and thought I was going to eject the contents of my stomach over my legs, but a hard palm across my cheek brought me back to reality. I found myself face to face with the man- his teeth were bared like a dog’s, and he barked, “Pull yourself together! Just because you don’t have any Points doesn’t mean you’re completely done. Now, just think- you need to regain them, right? Have you entered yourself into any of the games?”
“Games?” The word brought back to me all the images of the gladiator- style matches that defined Deadman Wonderland and gave it its infamous identity. However, if they meant Cast Points and life, then I’d gladly take part in one.
“Yeah. I’ll enter you in one. There’s a Carnival Corpse game tomorrow- I’ll put you down for that. Oh, and I’ll need your name.”
“Oh, Jana Rizuku,” I replied wearily as the man stood up and walked over to the opposite wall, where a posted was pinned down with thumbtacks. He produced a pen from his pocket and scribbled down my name on the paper. “What’s yours?”
“Mine?” He turned, and for a moment I thought he was going to sink his fist into me, but instead laughed spontaneously and said, “Crow.”
An odd name… I spent a moment wondering whether it was the one given to him by his parents or one he’d chosen himself, but it wasn’t really important. What was really on my mind was what I’d just been signed up for, and what I’d brought upon myself- I couldn’t help but want to know as much as I could about this game.
Reading the look in my eyes, Crow explained, “The Carnival Corpse is a fight, one that takes place in a small arena between two people. There’s one winner, and they’re the one that receives the big prizes. You lose, you get squat- so don’t lose!”
“A fight?” I found myself repeating Crow’s words in disbelief.
A… Fight.
No.
I was going to die.

Stage 10: Setting the Stage

Deafening lights, blinding sounds... I knew they lay ahead- I could taste the air. Fresh air, something which I hadn't encountered once since being confined here. The atmosphere was almost tangible, a mixture of excitement and something else. Was it bloodlust? Or was that just my anxiety eating its way into my senses? What I did know, however, was that the games in Deadman Wonderland were known notoriously as the most violent and advanced in the way of visual effects in all of Japan. Dog races, one of the events that involved prisoners running obstacle races against each other, were frequently broadcast on live television. I'd watched one, and had to leave the room because of the utter violence that was shown- the special effects had been so realistic they were frightening.
You're on death row- nobody cares if you survive or not..
Special effects? Was that really the way of Deadman Wonderland? Now that I thought about it, we were all destined to die here- wasn't that the point of the necklaces we were forced to wear? If we were going to go, why not with a bang, for the entertainment of millions?
Perhaps the truth was more sickening than I'd originally believed.
I shifted, and one of the guards on my left rotated his head slightly so that he could eye me from his peripheral vision. The chains holding together my hands and ankles were heavy, and rubbed against each other whenever I moved in the slightest way. Up ahead was the unmistakeable roar of a crowd, hungry for entertainment.
All of a sudden a grainy voice made its way out of a device attached to the attendant's leg, and at once he pressed his hand against my back and pushed me forward.
"You're up," he muttered, and then more loudly, "Go!"
As slowly as I could, I edged towards the end of the corridor. In some ways I wanted to get outside, end it as fast as I could and face whatever lay in front of me. In another sense though, I was trying to draw it out as much as I could to prolong my life- or maybe it was because I was too scared to move any faster. My legs were stiff and refused to push me forward at a quicker pace. Yet just before I reached the end, I stopped, as if there was a barrier that was preventing me from proceeding onwards.
"Move, scum!"
Something hit the centre of my back, directly between my shoulder blades- the barrier shattered, and I found myself flying through it until I met the ground. Friction between my cheek and the dirt floor burned my skin, searing ot deeply up until the moment I became stationary once again.
Wincing, I slid onto my back and lay there, panting. But it was then that I heard the cheering on its full scale, a harsh, taunting sound, the clash of a thousand voices, all shouting and laughing and screaming out words that were all blended into one. And the light... I could barely open my eyes for fear that they would be immolated by the white, yet without my vision I felt helpless.
"Oh look- the first contestant has decided to enter!" said another voice, amplified by some kind of electrical device, to this a roar of laughs from every direction ripped out.
I groaned, rolled onto my stomach and stood up- it was a difficult task, considering that I was still chained. My whole body was shaking, as if I was having a violent reaction to something, when in fact the only thing that I was suffering from was fear. Like a rabbit in a sudden set of headlights, I was in the middle of a dangerous place that I knew nothing of, and I could barely see anything.
It took a few seconds for my vision to be restored, and when it was I realized that I was in the centre of a round stadium, surrounded by endless rows of people that cheered and laughed. Instead of travelling outwards at a diagonal angle however, as was normal of most other arenas I'd seen, the seats seemed to be stacked on top of each other, so that everyone had a bird's eye view on the middle section. The part I was standing on was about thirty metres in diameter and was made up of a plain dirt floor. In fact, the only thing interrupting the pale ground was a bare, leafless tree growing to my right, not in the middle of the stadium but definitely the centre of attention. Well, that was until I'd walked in- now everyone pointed and whooped at me like I was a hero, as opposed to a convict on death row.
"The Weaver Bird!" the electrified voice exclaimed- it took me mere momemts to work out that it was referring to me.
I'd been given a title? Was I now known as 'Weaver Bird' to the public? It was sick- if I died, then nobody would know my name. I had a desperation to shout out to everyone my real name, the one I hated so much but suddenly wanted to tell everyone. The thought was forbidden, and I quickly shut it away.
Because it was my name that had sent me here.
"And now, the second contestant!"
Directly across from me was a break in the seats, where a metal door set into a wall suddenly opened. The atmospheric fog seeping out from tiny holes in the ground created a film around the figure as they stepped forward into the dirt area, and the voice once again sounded.
"Fighting Weaver Bird, it's Crow!"
The fog cleared, and the words were confirmed- it was the man from before, the one who had signed me up for this, grinning maliciously like a dog.
My whole being went limp- I tried to shuffle back, but stood on my ankle chain and almost fell over.
Did they mean... I had to fight Crow? If that was the case, then this battle was over already.

PART 2/ END
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Offline KuroBara

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Re: Dreamweaver: A Deadman Wonderland Fanfiction (M)
« Reply #4 on: May 03, 2012, 17:11 »
PART 3

Stage 11: Weakness

"You're weak- you know that?"
"Huh?" I looked up from my painting and stared at my mum, who was sitting across from me on the other side of the table. A cigarette hung between two of her fingers as she scanned the newspaper in front of her.
Not lifting her eyes from the table, she said, "Oh yeah, that's right! And if you don't start doing some sport, you'll stay weak for the rest of your life.
Slowly I lowered my paintbrush into the pot of water to my right. "Mum, I said this earlier- I'm not a sporty person. I have my hobbies."
"What, like painting?" All of a sudden she stood up, walked round to me and snatched up the paper I'd been working on. "I mean, what the hell is this?"
My head fell and my hands rested on my lap. "It's, uh, a tree. In a field."
Pursing her lips, my mum sighed. "You... Why can't you be normal?! Drawing weird pictures at seventeen isn't normal! What about that other Jana across the road? Why don't you try to be more like him?"
I failed to see how a tree counted as 'strange', but I was more annoyed at how Mum was constantly comparing me to him. It seemed like something out of a film or manga that there was a boy living on my street with exactly the same name as me- perhaps if this was a story written by someone, then we'd be fated friends. However, Jana Rizuku and I were opposite ends of a magnet, only we repelled each other like two negative charges. He was a true idol in the area, captain of the local football team and a member of the cricket, basketball and swimming squads, whereas I was forgotten. My name, my only means of identity, had been stolen away by someone else, so now I was a mere shadow. Whenever the name 'Jana Rizuku' was spoken, everyone's thoughts immediately slid to the sparkling boy who lived down the lane, and I was ignored.
"Oh, and I'm having your hair cut at the weekend." My mother inhaled on her cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. "You look like a damn girl!"

*

I stared across the arena at Crow as he grinned and assumed a stance that meant he was facing me sideways on. It was impossible to try and rationalize with the betrayal I felt- he knew that he'd be facing me in this game! Is that why he signed me up for it? So he could beat me easily and earn Cast Points? It was something that I'd expect from a tenant of Deadman Wonderland, but something about Crow had been different. He'd seemed like he wanted to help me, as a friend- obviously not.
"I'm sorry, kid," he exclaimed over the crowd. "Who fights who isn't up to us- it's all decided by the higher- ups." He appeared genuinely sorry, but I wasn't going to fall for his 'kind' act a second time. Though there was the possibility that his words were the truth, it was too much of a coincidence that I was fighting him, out of all people.
Seeing my betrayed expression, Crow shrugged. "Suit yourself."
As soon as he had finished speaking, his lower arms began bulging slightly. Then, to my horror, blood began to burst out of slits about ten inches long, one on each limb. However, instead of falling to the floor, it seemed to grow outwards and solidify until it had formed two blades, paper- thin and razor- sharp. Each one was slightly longer than his arm and curved round a glossy red scythe.
What had just happened? Crow's blood had just grown and solidified- surely that defied the basic laws of this world. But even worse...
Blood. I could smell it, sense its presence close by- I was engulfing me, trying to drag me down and swallow me. My feet did their best to steady me as I staggered, and miraculously I managed to remain upright, but that couldn't wipe the scene that lay in front of me from my vision.
I recovered just in time to hear the electronic voice announce its final lines.
"Deadmen, fight! The Carnival Corpse begins now."

Stage 12: The Way of the Game

Crow brought his arm towards the ground, the blade that had grown out of it slicing down and narrowly missing my elbow. I scrambled out of the way as the other scythe- like object swiped me. However, it hadn't come close enough to make contact with my skin, and instead tore through the fabric of my uniform, leaving part of my collarbone exposed. It was a clean cut, one that could have only been created by something with an edge as fine as a blade of grass. The blades still intrigued and terrified me, and led me to believe that perhaps special effects were being used after all. It didn't put my mind at ease in the slightest though, since there were no doubts in my mind of what Crow's intentions were. The only reason he'd signed me up for this game was so that he could win easily and reap the benefits of doing so, whilst I either died here by his hands or later through lack of Cast Points.
By the way things were going, the latter seemed more likely.
My lower back slammed against the ground, followed by my shoulder blades, my head and finally my arms and legs, which crashed to the floor like useless components on a machine. I did my best to use them to support me and stand up, but the best I could do was shuffle backwards as Crow's black shadow approached.
"Look, I'm not trying to kill you," he said, spreading his arms in an indifferent gesture. "If it were up to me, I'd knock you unconscious in the least painful way possible and get the hell out of here. But, well, the whole idea Is to put on a show."
Still recoiling from the ever- aproaching figure, I considered Crow's words. What was as 'putting on a show' a euphemism for? Torture? Was the whole idea of this Carnival Corpse to put a considerably weaker person in a cage and let them be torn apart by someone much more aggressive and experienced in the sport? No, this wasn't sport, nor was it a game. It was... Something else, far more macabre than anything I believed this prison could dish up.
Humiliation- they were humiliating me for the entertainment of the crowd. That was the right word.
Crow's footfalls stopped and he bent down, making sure to keep his blades pointing away from him, and I noticed how much he suddenly resembled the animal implied by his name. I was half- expecting the extentions on his arms to transform into massive black wings, but no such thing happened, and instead he muttered, "Look around you- do you really think this audience cares what happens?"
Around me the crowds were roaring, so much that it had become background noise by now. They cheered, booed, exclaimed, waved and screamed, each individual person's sounds blending with the next to create one untameable creature.
I was brought back by Crow's serious tone. "They want blood, and they don't really care how it's spilt. Trust me, I know- I've lost count of the number of games I've been forced to play." His eyes shifted to my hands. "I cut your handcuffs before so that you could move about, and now nothing's stopping you From fighting back. So... Give a good show, okay?"
His words seemed almost pleading, as if he was begging me to play along- however, whether I would be able to or not was another matter. Any skill at fighting that I possessed was diminutive, meaning all that I could do was avoid attacks, and even that was a clumsy action that relied mainly on chance. Any hope of me winning this was concealed behind impenetrable clouds- both Crow and I knew that. But then again, perhaps it wasn't a case of winning or losing- maybe it was all about the show.
I was so deep in thought that I barely noticed it when Crow raised one of his blades into the air, ready to slam it down onto me, but I slid out of the way a mere second before it hit the ground instead. My next movement was a mixture between a frenzied leap backwards and a scramble in the first direction I thought was safe. My back hit something solid, and for the first time in my whole stay at Deadman Wonderland, I felt the hints of a smile pull at my lips.
Because I had an idea.

Stage 13: Carnival Corpse

My fingers gripped the bark of the tree as hard as they could, turning white under the strain as my legs seeked footholds. There was barely any time to try and get a proper grip, so all in all it was a case of taking hold of the nearest piece of bark and hope that it had an irregular enough texture that I was able to hold onto it well enough to allow me to pull myself up further. I was now well over fiften feet above the ground, out of the reach of Crow- like a hyena, he waited at the base of the tree, blades sharp as ever and ready to leap into action if I fell. Perhaps that thought was what prevented me from slipping and kept me clinging to the tree's trunk all the way until I reached the first branch. Then I was slowly edging along it, worrying whether it could take my weight and at the same time if I was able to balance well enough to stay on.
"Like a bird in a tree," Crow chuckled from down below as he paced and stared up at me with his single eye. "A little Weaver Bird."
I ignored his muses and crept as far forward as I could until I reached the spot I guessed was the furthest I could go without my platform giving way. There were no leaves, nothing that blocked the path between me and Crow, and that was perfect.
Now that I was up here and my pants had slowed down, I could feel my heart beating in my ears. It was a steady pulse, yet quick because of anxiousness and apprehension. In no way was it a pleasant sensation- rather, it made me feel light- headed and overall... Weird. Was this what they called an adrenaline rush? The thought that I wasn't in control of my own body was one that scared me, but at the same time I felt determined to do this, maybe even a tad excited.
So I left the thinking behind and leapt off the branch.
I was aiming for Crow's chest with my feet, but ended up heading closer to his stomach. It was a straight jump, made to knock him down, maybe even unconscious. He was right about the whole 'pleasing the crowd' thing- that was all we were here for, wasn't it? That was how Deadman Wonderland made its money, since it didn't receive any income from the Government. What's more, I believed him when he said that the fight contestants were completely random- he was holding back his attacks and trying not to hurt me, whilst at the same time fooling the audience into thinking that he was fighting seriously. And since he had weapons and I didn't, this was my way of 'pleasing the crowd'.
I saw it before I felt it, the blood flying through the air towards my face. My legs hit the ground at an angle so that I slid a few feet over the dirt and stopped before collapsing onto my back.
The pain travelled up my left leg like a snake, biting every inch of it. My uniform had been sliced in two up the length of it, and from my knee to my ankle the skin had been slit open, and now a mixture of sandy dirt and blood filled the indentation and spilt out.
"No... Not again..." I could hear myself mutter, but it was background noise. There was a splitting pound in my ears that I guessed was a mixture between pain and the blood that was dribbling from my body.
I didn't want to go under- I couldn't if I wanted to win this, or even survive. Yet I felt as though I was being pulled towards the black, despite the fact that I was fighting it with everything I had. My hands squeezed instinctively my leg to try and quell the agony, and though it had a minimal effect, I could feel myself gaining a little more consciousness each second. But that smell... It was poisonous.
Perhaps it was because I was so occupied with staying awake that I didn't notice when Crow wrapped his hand around my hair and dragged me upwards.
I shrieked until my voice ran dry. Crow had raised me off the ground, allowing me room to kick and grab at my hair to stop the pain that ripped at the back of my head and all down my neck. For a few moments I was disconnected from reality and thrust into a world of relentless agony and then brought back, only to find one of Crow's blades pressing against my throat.
I couldn't believe it- he'd actually cut me as I was going past him in the air. I probably deserved it though, since I'd been aiming to hurt him. But now he was dangling me from his hand, like a hunter displaying his catch for everyone to see. And it seemed everyone loved it, due to the audience's senseless shouting.
"Looks like you've finally understood what this is all about," Crow jeered close to my ear.
I couldn't reply for fear of screaming again if I opened my mouth, but he seemed to sense this, and chuckled macabrely.
What had happened? I'd thought we were going to play it safe, but this was a new level of pain. The edge against my neck pushed in further, so much so that if it had gone in any more it probably would've torn the skin open. I was still gripping the base of my hair with fists balled so hard that they were aching, and wincing. It was as if the agony held me in a trance, so that I was unable to move.
"Sorry to have to do this to you, kid," came a mutter from my left.
At once the hand in my hair, as well as the blade at my throat, left me, allowing me to drop to the ground. But as I soon as my legs touched the floor, they crumpled and I kneeled down, letting out a long whimper of pain.
I barely had time to recover as a pair of giant red scythes snaked round my body from behind and slid across my stomach.
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Offline KuroBara

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Re: Dreamweaver: A Deadman Wonderland Fanfiction (M)
« Reply #5 on: May 03, 2012, 17:12 »
Stage 14: The Dancing Chicken

Where was I? Through eyes that felt as through they’d been staring at glaring light for the past hour, I inspected the room. It was darker than black, so much so that it seemed white, and everything flashed like a million suns. Would I ever be able to see properly again? Judging by the way I was now, only the worse could be expected.
However, my vision did return, my eyes gradually adjusting my surroundings and differentiating one patch of black from the other. There was the black of the walls; the black of a rectangular object, shorter than a man but clearly a machine, in front of me; the black of a human- shaped figure standing in the corner of the room. And it moved.
Despite the fact my sight was still horribly distorted, I was able to tell that the person was female, mainly because of the telltale click of high heels. Any attempt at escape was out of the question- the straps around my wrists and ankles that secured me to the chair made sure of that. So all that was left for me to do was sit and wait the painfully long time that it took for her to cross the room.
What had I done? During the Carnival Corpse game I’d felt a surge of something unbelievably powerful. At the time I’d identified it as an adrenaline rush, but was a mere hormone that influential? For a moment, almost all the fear had been wiped from my body and I was freed from the cage that I lived in every day of my life, one that held me back and prevented me from doing anything in case I got hurt. Now I felt that terror squeezing me- it was part of what made me Jana Rizuku, and I couldn’t imagine myself any other way. My fear of blood was impulsive, something I couldn’t switch off no matter how hard I tried. Every time I saw it, my whole body just shut down- it was more of an allergic reaction than a phobia. Though I couldn’t be intolerant of blood, could I? It was, after all, coursing through my veins and keeping me alive every moment of the day.
At last the woman reached me, but stopped just short of my chair and remained standing by the structure in front of me. Then all of a sudden, a cascade of lights in a circle around my chair flashed, blinding me again, but this time it was only for a few seconds at most. The sharp contrast between the black and white was enough to leave me dazed as was what I now saw before me.
It was a alright, similar in design to one at an arcade that took your coins and spun round a reel of fruit- three identical pictures and you won the jackpot. Only the images were far from anything that would be expected in an innocent casino. Depicted were simple drawings of parts of the body in monotone colours- an arm, a leg, a stomach, kidneys, an eye and another stomach. They were the only ones currently displayed, but I would’ve bet that they had pictures of every area of the body.
Another thing I noticed were cameras, two of them at the front, one aimed at the machine and another at the side. They had been filming my every move since the lights had come on. Was this a show, where I was the main attraction? What was going to happen? I could barely hear my thoughts over my heartbeats, and was concentrating on trying to make sense of the sea of paranoid mumbling that my mind had become, so I almost jumped when a high- pitched voice began to squawk from somewhere behind me. As if from nowhere, a giant bird leapt out and began to flap its wings in time with its footsteps, as if trying to fly. It was easy to see that it was a costume worn by someone, an outfit depicting a bloated chicken or something similar, and when in position it faced the camera and spoke in a distorted voice.
“Good day, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Carnival Corpse after- party, an event which I know you’ve all been looking forward to.” It motioned towards me with a fabric wing. “May I introduce Weaver Bird to you, the fine loser of the game that took place a mere hour ago.”
‘Fine loser’… The words didn’t seem to fit one another. I’d failed- Crow had beaten me with no question. Now that I thought about it, I could just feel the stinging of an open wound around my abdomen where he’d sliced me. It was held so tightly with bandages that the pain had been reduced to near numbness, but now that I had it on my mind I couldn’t get it off- the underlying nagging of my stomach area that stung like a nettle.
The camera to my right clicked and whirred, and I guessed it was focusing on me. Submissively I bowed my head, not wanting to soak up the glory of being on television. If this was being broadcast live, which I assumed it was, due to the presenter, then I was going to keep a straight face and go along with whatever they wanted me to do. After all, it wasn’t as if I was in a position to object, nor would I have dared to speak out if I was.
“Now, here comes the exciting part!” The warped chicken peered close to the camera and raised a wing. “In a few minutes, the wheel on our punishment machine will start spinning round and round and round and round and round! Then Weaver will have to stop it, and whichever part it lands on will be removed. Isn’t that exciting?”
All at once my body began to tremble on its own, before I had a chance to decode the presenter’s words. And in front of me, the wheel on the box began to turn.

Stage 15: Red

Round and round the wheel spun, a blur or white and black mixed into one hue. My eyes were glued to it, as if subconsciously trying to pick out the individual pictures from the blur. I could tell that I was supposed to say something, react in some way to the machine in front of me, but I couldn’t- the seconds slipped by, and all the while I felt hollow as a corpse. I was mortified.
My word was a stutter, a sound barely above a whisper, but they seemed to hear it alright.
"St-stop."
Once it had been said, my mouth hung open sligtly, perhaps because I was too numb to close it properly- then the wheels started to slow down.
The first one stopped.
Next the second.
And finally the third.
Three pictures, all in a row- the outline of the hand on each was identical.
The chicken jumped into the air and hit the ground, flapping its wings excitedly. "Ooh, looks like Weaver's chosen! And what a choice! We haven't had a hand in over six months- this should be fun for all of us."
Fun? I'd never in my life felt so emotionless, so disconnected from reality. The presenter's idea of fun was watching prisoners being dismembered on live television- was that a view that everyone in Deadman Wonderland shared? If so, they weren't human. There was no way to justify the desire to watch and enjoy the sight of people being tortured- it simply wasn't normal.
A flash of silver to my right brought me back, as if it had stimulated something within me that had made me snap. I tried to kick my legs out but found them restrained tight, so pushed down against the ground as hard as I could, pulling at the bonds on my arms with hands balled together so much they ached. My stomach tightened, making me wince as I felt the gashes from Crow scream in protest. Yet it only took a few seconds for me to realize that it was all hopeless- the velcro was too strong. Exhausted, I slumped down in the chair as best as I could, allowing my whole body to move up and down as I breathed in and out heavily and noisily. My hair, formerly shaped around my face, had grown out unevenly, and now clumps of it clung to my damp forehead and cheeks.
Closer and closer came the silver flash, a knife clasped firmly in the hand of the woman who I'd seen first. She weilded it uncertainly, as if she was reluctant to do what the machine had instructed, but there was also a part of her expression and body language that ran simultaneously, making it seem like she was going to enjoy it nonetheless. The slight upwards tilt of her lips and shake of her hands told me that her instincts drove her against it, but her mind was set and wanted to cause pain.
Slowly she lay the blade against the top of my wrist, and even without it entering me I could feel how deadly sharp it was. I knew escape was a barricaded tunnel, but still I twitched unconsciously with the hope that someone would suddenly turn round and tell me that it was just a show for the television audience- the actual feature was done with special effects, and I could walk away. But that was irrational- I knew that by now.
The knife slid across my wrist like butter, and an incision was made so finely that it took a few moments for the blood to rise. It did come however, filling the trench like crimson ink in a pot, and then the pot overflowed. With it came pain that made my eyes water, so that the world became a shriek of agony and red.
The knife passed back and forth in a sawing action, each movement butchering my hand deeper and deeper. When it reached the middle, the woman was more aggressive, using the blade to hack at and crush through the bone that was in her way.
It was torture beyond torture, an indescribable agony that tore apart my whole arm and made me scream. I would’ve given anything to die there and then, to just be over with it. Yet there was no release- there was no escape from the burning.
Blood… There was blood on my face, staining my skin, hair and mind.
A red stump, and a mutilated, lifeless chunk of flesh.
Then nothing.

PART 3/ END

That's all I've got so far. e_e
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