#biohazard despair

[marislittleworld]

Resident Evil Despair book cover - the original Resident Evil owners are CAPCOM

[review-anon]

What should we do now?

Let's just get Sawa back inside her paddock and then we can go to Kyoji's lab.

R-right...

*The group then enters where Sawa's paddock is*

Aha Mind Reader! You have returned with Sawa and some companions!

H-hey Gundham, yes I have indeed.

Hm? Both you and the Greater Spawn of Bastet seem down...did something happen?

W-would you...happen to know anything else which has happened regarding the poison taken from Sawa's body?

Egads! Has another spawning of the vile substance occured?

W-what do you mean "another"?

Maverick Soul...your kindred spirit...Dimension Goddess....contacted me about a outbreak of the vile liquid in the medical bay, where she and some of her companions were injuried by a manfestation of it created from the Genemancer's inner workings.

Y-You are saying a MONSTER was created from that stuff? And Kyoji was behind it?

Not willingly...but exposure to this vile liquid...plus his own inner demons...were summoned by the substance and turned into a fearsome form of its own and it proceeded to feast upon others including Yomiuri. That is...until the Dimension Goddess stepped in and it was vanquished.

WHHHHHAAATTTTT????!!! Nikei was ATTACKED by this stuff?!

Why I cannot deny that guy pisses me off...I wouldn't want him to be eaten by some vile gloop! That's going too far!

*Sawa jumps out of the container and walks over to the paddock wanting to hide away from all the talk about Void Juice*

*Gundham opens the paddock door to let her inside* The domanion of the Genemancer is most likely compromised by vile magic of the darkest sort. Caution must be taken if you are to go there.

Can...someone translate what he's saying?

He's saying we need to make sure we have the right equipment before we go to Kyoji's lab since its most likely drenched in Void Juice.

So we just need a light source right? Would a flashlight help?

We...might need something stronger then that...

[artzysyam]

TKAHRK Fan-Snippets

Snippets from @xysidhequeen AU. Based on part 12 after Dick felt asleep

"You're older this time. Never thoughts I'd see you grown up, Little Wing..." 

Dick's last words before he succumb to exhaustion reverberated in Jason's mind as his brother lay before him. His legs trembled beneath him and he slumped down, pressing his forehead against Dick's chest. He could feel the faint thud of his brother's heartbeat, and hear the shallow breaths entering his lungs. 

His fault

He abandoned him

He hurt him

Danny stepped forward, tenderly placing a hand on Jason's burly shoulder. "Jay...," he said, gently pulling him out from his own thoughts, which had nearly swallowed him up.

"I..." Jason said weakly, glancing at Danny for help. "I can't leave him again, Danny. I-I can't." His voice quivered as feelings of deep protectiveness overwhelmed him, threatening to drown him in despair and guilt for leaving Dick once already.

A sad smile spread across Danny's face as he knelt down next to Jason, wrapping his long arms around the younger man's shoulders. "Then we won't. He's your brother Jason, that makes him family." Jason felt the dam break as hot tears streamed down his cheeks, never seeming to stop until Danny held him close and spoke gentle words of comfort.

Jason sobbed for the little Robin who died too soon, for the boy he could've been, for the man he was now. He cried for the hero who he looked up to, full of light and life. And for the broken shell left behind. He cried for a brother he never knew he cared so deeply for him.

Joker took me away from him

Batman never saves me

Batman replaced me

Batman saw me as a tool

His mind spiralling again but Danny managed to ground him by his core humming the wave an aura of comfort, safety and reassurance that he's no alone and he always will be here by his side.

As tears subsided, Jason pulled his head away and scanned the manifestation of his brother's grief and depression.

"What do you want to do now, Jaybird?" Danny asked, leaning back and looking at Jason with a patient smile, ready and willing to follow him to hell and back. His heart and core filled with the gentle warmth to his body.

"First," Jason wiping the remnants of tears and snot from his face. "We need to clean up this pig's den." Danny nodded, looking around.

“And then?” Danny asked, not pressing and ever patient. Jason then looked at the bundles of takeout containers and pizza boxes with the sentient molds ready to takeover this apartment. He assumed Dick don't have energy to buy groceries and he knew Dick can't cook for shit even cause the water to burn fire for Ancient's sake at one point.

“Then we make sure Dick eats some real Ancient’s damned food.” Jason groused as he stood, moving towards the take out containers that had definitely reached biohazard status, with his fire, and disposed their carcasses into the trash bag.

“I’ll let Sam and Tucker know we won’t be back tonight.” Danny said brightly, but his voice had a trace of pride in it that Jason wouldn’t admit, even on pain of death, filled him with warmth to rival his flame core.

“You don’t have to stay, or help. It’s not your fucking problem.” Jason grumbled as he rifled through Dick’s cabinets for a trash bag or ten. Thank Ancients his brother bought cleaning supplies or he will have a talk when he wakes up.

But, he don't want to burden Danny of his problem, it's his fault after all and he wants to fix it, he have to.

“I don’t have to, no. But I want to. Because it’s you, Jay.” Danny said softly, causing Jason paused what he doing and stare at him, agape. There was something more in his tone that he couldn’t interpret, but it sent heat to his cheeks and made his undead heart beat a little quicker.

“I’ll always be there when you need me.” Danny finished with a shrug, skin dusted a light green that somehow made his freckles stand out. Jason would swear he could pick out the constellations Danny so adored scattered across Danny’s skin.

“Thanks, Danny. For. Everything.” Jason stared at the trash bag in his hands, unsure why the air felt too thin, and his heart was beating so fast.

Or. He knew. But it was one of those things he wasn’t willing to examine too closely. Especially not today, not right now. It's too much for him.

“Let’s make sure Nightwing wakes up to the cleanest apartment ever. Courtesy of his very own undead cleaning crew!” Danny cheered, brought Jason back to the present and he felt the mood lighten from the heavy emotion he felt for the past few hours.

“The King and his Red Knight, glorified goddamned maids.” Jason snorted as Danny snickered. He was glad that Danny is here and... and he was thankful for it. Then they set to work cleaning Dick's apartment.

It didn’t fix the pain in his chest, in his core. But every inch of space they cleaned settled something inside of Jason. As if he was finally mending something he hadn’t even realized was broken.

From what Jazz had said plenty of times, one step at a time. 

[msbeneviento]

Chapter 26 🌟

"Alcina, please. Make it stop. Make it stop!" Donna begs, screaming. She cries in despair at the sight of you like this. The blood flowing like rivers on the floor is a horror. She has terrible déjà vu about it. "Enough, please! She won't... She's not going to be able to take it. I can't go through it again. I can't lose her too."

👁👁

[damadisangue]

6. Heats/Ruts

Beasts, nothing more. This is the wonderful evolution Spencer wanted so much - his progeny, his fleuron to be so proud of. He kisses her, and it is a sloppy, impatient gesture - clothes left behind and phone calls dropped into silence. Alex shatters his breath, her thighs around his waist and her eyes languid, lost. She looks at him, and for a moment he is sure he sees a wounded glimmer in her expression, a human and fragile pain that makes him acutely aware of the smell he carries with him - sand and blue skies, bitter oranges and despair.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, sister."

And yet he is devoured by it: it consumes him, sometimes making it hard even to think - Cosmarul a land too close not to stir in him rage and guilt.

"You don't smoke." "No."

He brushes her face with his fingertips and Alex rests her cheek in the palm of his hand - a sharp and dangerous surrender, behind which hides a creature equal to him. He thrusts into her - again - and Alex welcomes him with a moan and a sigh, between her thighs their previous orgasm, still warm on the skin, in the heart. The chosen race, the vanguard of the new world: this is what Spencer declared. This is what they were called to do - the reason for their creation, their genesis. Simulacra of perfection, standard-bearers of a new dawn - bullshit. Wesker thrusts into her until there is no more space to divide them, in his movements a satisfied hunger, a desire that invades the body of both - between Alex's fingers crumpled and damp sheets, wet with his seed and her blood.

"We are biological weapons, Al, and as such we are not exempt from certain needs."

He buries his face in her hair, longer now, laughing at himself and the euphoria that comes over him when he feels his orgasm approaching - animals, nothing more: killing, fighting, fucking and following their instincts, their urges.

"You can suppress them, you can control them, but sooner or later you have to listen to them."

The muscles in Alex's thighs tense, tightening their grip around his hips, and she comes, moaning - her cunt obscenely open around his cock, swollen and supple and soft, terribly his. Wesker raises himself on his elbows,

and yet nothing had ever worked,

he seeks her mouth in a demanding, intense kiss,

none had ever tasted like her, or felt like her,

and Alex smiles,

and he wondered if it was really just a need or something more - something they had not been trained for, or programmed for.

tangling her fingers in his hair and whispering his name.

Albert.

Wesker smothers a confession and a promise on Alex's skin.

A masterpiece from the lovely @madbedlam

[joseykrabs]

Cover art and character art on the way. I know this isn’t the typical ship, but hear me out…

Alcina Dimitrescu has lost everything but her life. Her money. Her home. Her abilities. And worst of all, Her beautiful, loving daughters. She has been captured, put on trial, and is well on her way to rot in prison. As despair sets in from the reality of her predicament, an extraordinary sequence of events occurs as the Train taking her to her new home changes course and derails... straight into the heart of the the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone.

Every attempt is made to secure her and put her back on track to life in prison. But "The Zone," to those that know it well, is known for besting fate. It is a land where nature's law has lost it's footing. An unforgiving wasteland of anomalies, warring factions, and mysteries. It is a terrifying and restless place where legends are either made, or broken.

Lost and Starving, from her perspective, the turn of events is salt upon her wounds. But it is the first stroke of luck she has had in her very long life. It is here, in the heart of abnormality, that she will meet a band of loners, led by a fractured man. By outlaws and madmen, She will learn the error of her ways. She will learn to live like life is short. And above all, what it is like to be shown love unconditional.

[ao3feed-danganronpa]

Danganronpa: Despair Across the Multiverse Rewrite

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/8fLVQRZ

by MeeMeeHeart777

A rewrite/revival of my project, Danganronpa: Despair Across the Multiverse.

It's been 10 years since The Tragedy ended and peace was restored to the world. With crossover characters from different worlds and students from the Danganronpa world attending Hope’s Peak Academy branches and classes, the new headmaster and principal are happy that everything is finally back to normal.

Noah (Total Drama) is surprised that he has been selected to attend Hope’s Peak University, a bigger version of HPA, as part of Class 100th for the upcoming college year as the “Ultimate Reality TV Star''. Everyone is reported to go to Hopeful City to move in to prepare themselves for the upcoming school year and attend the big celebration milestone along with the 10th anniversary of the end of the Tragedy. However…

Monokuma and Monocyte appear among everyone and announce that they are the new participants of the killing game. In order to escape the city, the class has to kill someone to get away with it.

Noah now must lead 33 other characters into the motives, class trials, and challenges while finding out the mysteries and figuring out who is the mastermind behind this.

Words: 11028, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Danganronpa: Despair Across the Multiverse series

Fandoms: Dangan Ronpa Series, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Total Drama (Cartoon), Total Drama Presents: The Ridonculous Race, Kirby (Video Games), Hoshi no Kaabii | Kirby: Right Back at Ya!, Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, Grand Theft Auto III, 6teen (Cartoon), The Simpsons, Final Destination (Movies), Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Manhunt (Video Games), F-Zero (Video Games), Destroy All Humans! (Video Game), SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon), 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney, Cookie Run (Video Game), めいわく星人 パニックメーカー | Meiwaku Seijin: Panic Maker | Under the Skin (Video Game)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: F/M

Characters: Monokuma (Dangan Ronpa), Original Non-Human Character(s), Noah (Total Drama), Emma (Total Drama Presents: The Ridonculous Race), Fumu | Tiff, Catalina (Grand Theft Auto), Candice Shand | Candy Suxxx, Jude Lizowski, Caitlin Cooke, Hanamura Teruteru, Fujisaki Chihiro, Lisa Simpson, Valerie Lewton, George Hamilton, Jim Chapman (Resident Evil), Lionel Starkweather, James Earl Cash, The Journalist (Manhunt), Ron the Rent-a-Cop (6teen), Kate Alen, Natalya Ivanova, Asuka Kasen, SpongeBob SquarePants, Steve Scott, Ayame | Iris (Gyakuten Saiban), Miyanagi Chinami | Dahlia Hawthorne, Uehara Kinji, Iranami Satsuki, Princess Cookie (Cookie Run), Tommy Vercetti, Lindsay (Total Drama), Escargoon (Kirby), Reni Wassulmaier, Baron Proptop (Under the Skin), Cosmi (Under the Skin), Maria Latore

Relationships: James Earl Cash/The Journalist, Emma/Noah (Total Drama Presents: The Ridonculous Race)

Additional Tags: Fan Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Character Death, Protag!Noah, Dangan Ronpa Spoilers, Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Spoilers, Screenplay/Script Format, Inspired by Danganronpa 69 and a few other Fangans, Transitions from She/Her to He/Him Pronouns for Fujisaki Chihiro, Post-Dangan Ronpa 3: Hope Arc, Fangan Ronpa: Danganronpa Another - Another Despair Academy, There are CGs in this story, But they will be added later depending on the date, Lisa and Tiff had a time skip in their universe, Multi-dimensional killing game, Post-New Dangan Ronpa V3, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/8fLVQRZ

[officewebmaster315]

unattended death cleaning services

When tragedy strikes, the aftermath can be overwhelming. Unattended deaths, a particularly distressing and traumatic event, necessitate a thorough and specialized cleaning service to restore affected spaces to their previous state. Unattended death cleaning services, often referred to as biohazard cleanup, offer vital support in these difficult times. In this article, we will delve into the importance of unattended death cleaning services, the unique challenges they pose, and how professionals can help individuals and communities cope with such heart-wrenching situations.

Understanding Unattended Deaths

Unattended deaths occur when a person passes away alone, and their body is left undiscovered for an extended period. Numerous events, such as killings, suicides, accidents, or natural deaths, can result in these conditions. Blood, bodily fluids, and bacteria are among the dangerous and unhygienic biohazards that are released into the environment when a body decomposes in isolation.

The Challenges of Unattended Death Cleanup

Unattended death cleanup presents significant challenges that require specialized skills and equipment. These challenges include:

Biohazard Cleanup: Unattended deaths result in the contamination of the environment with biohazards. Professionals must safely and thoroughly clean, disinfect, and decontaminate the area to ensure it is safe for habitation.

Emotional Support: In addition to the physical cleanup, unattended death cleaning services often provide emotional support to grieving families, who may have just discovered their loved one under such tragic circumstances.

Legal and Regulatory Compliance: Biohazard cleanup must adhere to strict regulations and guidelines to ensure the safety of both the cleaning crew and future occupants of the space.

How Unattended Death Cleaning Services Help

Unattended death cleaning services play a crucial role in managing these challenging situations. They offer several benefits, including:

Expertise: Professionals in this field are trained to handle biohazards safely and effectively, minimizing health risks and ensuring thorough cleanup.

Restoration: With the use of these services, the damaged area can be completely restored to how it was before the terrible events.

Psychological Relief: The emotional support offered by these professionals can help families and individuals cope with the trauma and grief associated with unattended deaths.

Legal Compliance: Unattended death cleaning services are well-versed in the regulations surrounding biohazard cleanup, ensuring that all procedures are carried out in accordance with the law.

Community Wellbeing

Unattended death cleaning services contribute to the overall wellbeing of the community. By responding to these upsetting circumstances in a timely and competent manner, they safeguard public health, stop the spread of illnesses, and lessen the psychological effects on those who are impacted.

Unattended death cleaning services are a vital resource in times of crisis. They provide expertise, compassion, and support during situations that would otherwise be nearly impossible to bear. By ensuring proper cleanup and restoration, these services offer a glimmer of hope and healing amidst the darkness of tragedy. In times of despair, these professionals play a crucial role in helping individuals and communities move towards recovery and closure.

[on-guardsanitisation]

Healing with Cleanliness: Homicide Scene Restoration

Tragedy can strike at any time, leaving behind a wake of emotional and physical devastation. Homicides, in particular, can be traumatic, leaving families and communities reeling from the loss of a loved one and the grim aftermath that follows. In such distressing times, there is a group of professionals who work tirelessly to provide solace and support. These unsung heroes are the experts in homicide cleaning services, and they play a vital role in helping individuals and communities heal with cleanliness.

The Toll of Homicides

Homicides are among the most harrowing and traumatic incidents that can occur in any community. Beyond the immediate loss of life, they leave behind scenes of unimaginable horror and grief. For the affected families and friends, coming to terms with the loss is an arduous journey. But the physical remnants of the event, the biohazards and bloodstains, serve as constant, painful reminders of the tragedy.

It's in times like these that homicide cleaning services come into play, offering a glimmer of hope and healing amid the despair.

On-Guard Sanitisation: A Beacon of Hope

One such company that specializes in providing homicide cleaning services is On-Guard Sanitisation. With a commitment to compassion and professionalism, they are dedicated to restoring spaces to a state of cleanliness, safety, and support.

In the aftermath of a homicide, the physical surroundings can be contaminated with blood, bodily fluids, and other biohazards. The potential health risks are not just a matter of cleanliness but a matter of public safety. On-Guard Sanitisation understands the profound impact of homicides on individuals and communities, and they make it their mission to help in the healing process.

The Importance of Specialized Cleaning

Homicide scenes demand specialized cleaning and disinfection expertise. These are not typical cleaning tasks; they require a unique set of skills, knowledge, and equipment. The risk of exposure to bloodborne pathogens and other contaminants is a real concern that only professionals trained in biohazard remediation can address.

On-Guard Sanitisation is well-equipped and staffed with professionals who have undergone rigorous training in handling biohazards and crime scenes. They adhere to strict protocols and guidelines set by health authorities to ensure that the affected areas are thoroughly cleaned and disinfected.

Compassion as a Cornerstone

One of the distinguishing features of On-Guard Sanitisation is their emphasis on compassion. They understand the sensitivity of the situations they are called to, and they treat their clients with the utmost respect and empathy. The team at On-Guard Sanitisation recognizes the emotional turmoil that accompanies a homicide, and they are committed to providing support beyond just cleaning.

Their approach is not merely about restoring a space; it's about helping individuals and communities heal. By ensuring that the physical reminders of the tragedy are removed, they provide a clean slate, allowing people to take the first steps towards closure and recovery.

Community Healing

Homicides do not just impact individuals and families; they cast a shadow over entire communities. The lingering presence of a crime scene can perpetuate fear and trauma, affecting the collective well-being of the neighborhood. On-Guard Sanitisation's work goes beyond just cleaning; it contributes to community healing.

Their services help restore a sense of security and comfort in the area. By ensuring that the affected space is thoroughly cleaned and safe, they empower communities to move forward and rebuild trust and resilience.

Peace of Mind Through Professionalism

In addition to compassion, professionalism is another pillar of On-Guard Sanitisation's services. They understand that their clients are going through an incredibly difficult time, and they aim to make the process as seamless as possible. They handle the logistics, from the initial assessment to the final cleaning, with the highest degree of professionalism and discretion.

By entrusting the task of homicide scene restoration to experts like On-Guard Sanitisation, individuals and families can focus on the emotional healing process, knowing that the physical aspect is in capable hands.

A Ray of Hope

Homicide cleaning services are a beacon of hope in the darkest of times. They are the unsung heroes who work behind the scenes to support individuals and communities as they navigate the challenging journey of healing and recovery. On-Guard Sanitisation is a prime example of a company that understands the importance of their work and carries it out with the utmost care and professionalism.

In the aftermath of a homicide, healing with cleanliness becomes a significant step in the journey toward closure and recovery. On-Guard Sanitisation is not just a cleaning service; it's a source of solace and support, offering the promise of a brighter, cleaner future in the face of tragedy.

For more information on On-Guard Sanitisation and their services, please visit https://www.onguardsanitisation.com.au/. They stand ready to assist and support those in need during the most challenging of times.

[sewagecleanup]

Restoring Hope: Ottawa's Premier Emergency Restoration Companies

Introduction:

Disasters can strike at any moment, leaving behind a trail of destruction and despair. In times of crisis, the services of professional restoration companies become invaluable. Ottawa, the beautiful capital of Canada, is no stranger to natural calamities like floods, fires, and storms. In such trying times, the city relies on its trusted emergency restoration companies to bring life back to normal. In this blog, we'll explore the vital role these restoration companies play in Ottawa and highlight some of the best in the business.

The Importance of Emergency Restoration Companies:

Emergency restoration companies are the unsung heroes of disaster-stricken communities. They provide immediate relief by swiftly responding to emergencies and restoring homes and businesses to their pre-disaster conditions. These companies are equipped with the expertise, experience, and state-of-the-art equipment required to tackle a wide range of disasters, from water damage to fire and smoke damage.

Restoration Companies in Ottawa:

Ottawa is home to several reputable restoration companies that specialize in emergency restoration company and disaster recovery. Here are a few of the standout names in the industry:

ServiceMaster Restore Ottawa: ServiceMaster Restore Ottawa is a trusted name in the region. With years of experience, they offer comprehensive restoration services, including water damage restoration, fire and smoke damage restoration, and mold remediation. Their highly trained technicians are available 24/7 to respond to emergencies promptly.

Paul Davis Ottawa: Paul Davis Restoration has a strong presence in Ottawa. They offer a wide range of services, from water and fire damage restoration to mold remediation and contents cleaning. Their commitment to professionalism and customer satisfaction has earned them a solid reputation in the community.

PuroClean Ottawa East: PuroClean is known for its efficient and effective restoration services in Ottawa. They specialize in water damage restoration, mold removal, and biohazard cleanup. Their team is dedicated to providing compassionate and rapid assistance during emergencies.

FirstOnSite Restoration: FirstOnSite Restoration is a nationwide company with a strong presence in Ottawa. They offer a full spectrum of restoration services, including fire and smoke damage restoration, water damage restoration, and environmental services. Their rapid response teams are always ready to assist when disaster strikes.

The Restoration Process:

Emergency restoration companies follow a structured process to ensure a successful recovery:

Assessment: The first step is a thorough assessment of the damage to determine the extent and nature of the restoration needed.

Mitigation: Immediate action is taken to prevent further damage. This may involve water extraction, securing the property, or setting up containment for mold issues.

Restoration: The restoration process includes cleaning, repairing, and rebuilding damaged areas. This may involve structural repairs, odor removal, and mold remediation.

Final Inspection: After restoration work is completed, a final inspection ensures that everything meets industry standards and the client's satisfaction.

Conclusion:

Ottawa's emergency restoration companies are lifelines in times of crisis. They bring hope and comfort to communities affected by disasters, helping them rebuild their lives and properties. Whether it's water damage, fire and smoke damage, or mold infestations, these companies have the expertise and dedication to restore normalcy. The next time disaster strikes in Ottawa, you can rest assured knowing that these trusted restoration companies are ready to respond and restore your peace of mind.

[marislittleworld]

"The despair will make you see the truth"

Meet Dr. Maximillian Krieger, he is the antagonist of my future Resident Evil fanfic called Resident Evil: Despair

[honeyboy-85]

Ichor Noire

Central Park welcomed me with the bite of its 15 degree frost-laden air. I was in the throes of delirium, with only my ex’s flannel for warmth, and socks that were already tattered during my brief flight from my apartment, back over on 5th Avenue. My muscles burned in protest, and my extremities stung with numbness, but my home was no longer my sanctuary. Emanating from my flat, the police station, Coney Island, and through every congested street of the city, was a pall that hung in the atmosphere. Somehow I could just tell, this biohazard was an event that was going to change the course of humankind; even if that meant we were careening to a dead end. My mind was erratic with the terror a cat might experience while fighting its way out of a burlap bag, after being hurled into a lake. The human faculties that proudly developed over the course of 6 million years flickered in my being, like the ostentatious Sony billboard that could be seen all the way from 42nd Street. I had to find some place to hide in this squalid, rectangular woodland. Existential despair threatened to halt me in my tracks, but I pushed it to the gnarled, ugly cellar of my disintegrating mind. My feet might be taken by frostbite before sunrise, but I didn’t feign a flowery smile through years of fear from Russian ICBMs, only to fall apart before this new, shapeless fear. Or was it actually new? I guess I should start from the beginning. My name is Ellie Marsh. I grew up in Winnfield, Louisiana. I thought about going to Tulane for Journalistic studies, but decided New York City might be the change of pace that I needed. Summer and Fall ran their courses, and even though the city was ragged with homeless colonies and needed a fresh coat of paint, there was a certain rugged hominess to this crazy, neglected city. I felt like here, history was constantly being rewritten. What more could a journalist ask for? It was shortly before Valentine's Day, when entire cities became derelicts. First, it would start with a few missing persons cases; a drifter here, a few college students there. Through the course of several days, the population would plummet by tens of thousands. Downward that number would spiral, until it flatlined. This happened all over the world, too - Hong Kong, Morocco, Shinjuku, Dallas, Rio, Birmingham, the list went on. Police were stretched tight enough to snap, trying to address the disappearances while also maintaining order among the destabilizing populace. Looting reigned supreme, between the business and residential districts. Arson, murder, and a general state of anarchy danced over the jaded cityscapes. The police couldn’t even bother with the blockades for the highways leading out of town, which allowed the smart residents to escape.

Later on, deserters would be questioned by authorities, and their testimonies would make no sense. Regarding family or friends that didn't escape, they wanted those people dead instead of rescued. Media experts were blaming it on a mass psychosis, a symptom of the as yet unexplained phenomena that was striking cities on a global scale.

There was no pattern to how these cities were hit. No cult had this level of mass influence. No known virus could cause this, no matter how unstable the mutation. It seemed the only alternative left was too preposterous for me to entertain.

As soon as New York's population began to get culled, the other field journalists and I set out to investigate our scoops. Was this really how I was meant to get my Pulitzer? By leveraging an international panic and attaching it to an alien invasion? I went to the police, just to look into missing persons cases.

Much of the force was out in the streets. They screeched away from West 20th, in the direction of a plume of fire that sprouted northwards. Every car I passed was free of tickets; apparently the police actually had real problems, for once.

I entered the station’s foyer. There were so few cadets and interns compared to usual, but the air was frenetic and tense. The receptionist was livid with stress as he was keying data into one of the latest IBM computers. He was terse and completely disinterested in indulging me with any sort of interview or comment. As I was being turned away though, I spied some officers going through the fire escape with tall stacks of paperwork. I trusted my intuition and came out to the side of the building.

 I bumped into a young man, possibly too young to even drink. He was quite apologetic to me, even though I was the one that sent his stack of paper and files tumbling. I knelt down to assist him, but also took the time to skim his paperwork for anything of interest. The idea that lept in my mind was rather mean, and might even cost him his job in a typical crisis, but I had to get unfiltered and reliable information. Thankfully the others were too wound up to assist him as I had already volunteered for it, and they dashed back into the station to fetch whatever remained of their files to be stored in the armored van next to us.

Taking my share of his papers, I placed them on top of his stack as he held it in waiting. Then, I leaned in close and left a light kiss on his cheek, telling him to keep up the good work in my best Southern drawl, before I teasingly dragged the brim of his hat down over his eyes, using his brief surprise to reclaim the stack I gave him.

The cadet let his stack tip over again. Perfect.

I promptly left the station behind me. My heart was racing out of control as I took the papers to the nearest alleyway. I sank against the wall, waiting for my palpitations to calm down, gripping the wadded up notes in my fist. There was a hobo curled up beneath some newspapers, but I wasn't too concerned about him ratting me out. Trembling, letting my breath get steady in the cool air, I finally sorted out the notes in whatever passed for sequential order.

There was a healthy garnishing of the usual destabilizing incidents that characterized this panic. However, two detective reports that made me stop breathing as I read were the following - One, Mayor Cochran had apparently murdered his entire family at his estate. He had been moved to the hospital to be treated for his injuries before awaiting questioning from authorities. The other was an unexplained wildfire that was currently razing Yankee Stadium to the ground. There was much less information available on this fire, but judging from the clouds turning charcoal black on the horizon, that seemed to be from Yankee Stadium.

It was clear at this point: I had to assume I only had the time to chase one of these leads. With the nature of the emergency at the stadium, everyone in the city would probably be clamoring to get a look at the action. Naturally, any sports journalists that were in the area would already have a front seat to their scoop. It seemed like it would be a wasted gesture to report on it from the back of the crowd, only to write on what most of the other editors would already be preaching at greater depth; I'd be stuck with crumbs whether I went there or not.

The mayor's family massacre definitely made for a byline that would practically write itself as a virtuoso. But getting to question him held an equally steep level of difficulty to the stadium, though with far fewer elements - he was under armed watch as the key suspect.

Stopping briefly at a local bistro for the strongest cup of Colombian coffee they had, I gulped it down with cream and made my way back to my apartment. I phoned up a friend of mine that worked at the hospital as a registered nurse, named Alison Sinclair. The incredulity of her voice was not hard to pick up on as I asked her to lend me a nurse’s uniform, so that I could sneak into the Mayor’s hospital room unopposed. I knew quite well how much I was jeopardizing her career, but I was amazed to see she relented. Perhaps she was also curious as to the nature of the Mayor’s meltdown.

Taking the time to grab a curly dark wig and set it convincingly in place on my head, I left it messy in front of my face and took the next taxi to Kings County Hospital Center. Making my way through the lobby, it seemed to be too much a scene of pandemonium to keep track of a girl just wearing street clothes. Good. I crept into the bathroom and, locking myself in the stall Alison told me about, I reached into the unlatched vent and retrieved the nurse’s uniform she left for me. Hurriedly changing into it, I came out, approached the mirror, put my hair in a bun, and applied some light makeup. I had no idea if my clothes and wig would remain undiscovered in the same hiding place, so I had to make this count.

I came out from the bathroom, with Alison casually waiting and bantering with me about how I’d forgotten the badge she handed me. I gave a quick glance before clasping it to my collar - Susan Greer, Dietician. The hospital barely had a little more than half of its usual staff to address the patients growing by the hour, and I tried my best not to let myself blanch at the thought of having to do anything related to medicine. Apparently Susan’s tag was chosen because the Mayor was also being treated for gout.

Some rather unpleasant thoughts caused me to stumble a bit on my heels. I caught some curious looks from hospital personnel, but I did my best to simply look like I was exactly where I belonged. My attention turned to my surroundings, however; the patients that got priority seemed to be in a state of despondence. No, not despondence, more like detachment. I could hear doctors as we passed by, asking the patients if they had any sensations despite not having a pulse. One of their answers was a little on the cryptic side: “We feel everything. It’s actually your pulse we feel, Doctor.”

What a time to not have my notepad out. I couldn’t be seen with it though. I didn’t want to attract more attention than I’d already done. But one woman in particular had a strange series of….stigmata, on her skin? As the doctors restrained her, I found myself lingering a bit to watch the phenomena dance on, no, out of her skin, as they began emergency treatment on her in the middle of the hallway. Her blood ran in rivulets down her throat, but it also seemed to oxidize in contact with the air, dancing like some strange green cosmic fire. The doctor, only briefly daunted, tried to snuff it with the white towels that would have been used to operate. I saw the markings creep out from under the cloth, however. And it seemed to manifest as some strange black vines or ivy. It was beautiful, but also ghastly in its predatory dexterity, lashing the doctor’s hand.

My thoughts were jostled by the touch of Alison’s hand on my shoulder. She nudged me back to our task. She was right, I should not be so carefree about this ruse. I followed her, making the mental note to perhaps approach the intrepid doctor later for comment. His groans of pain faded behind us, and we finally approached our destination, guarded by three uniformed officers.

The mayor was right in front of me, in room 422.

I tried my best not to avoid eye contact with the police. They were incredibly on edge with everything they’d witnessed in this hospital, and they’d be more perceptive of suspicious behavior than even the staff. I told them that the patient had gout that would likely cause his state to deteriorate, and we were going to weigh different nutritional options that might speed his recovery. They slowly nodded, their gaze not breaking from mine as they let me in the door. Alison stayed outside to chat with them, likely to give me extra time to squeeze whatever details I could from the suspect Mayor.

I swiftly slid out my notepad from beneath my dummy patient notes, and pinned it in place on top of my clipboard. My breath caught in my lungs though, as I saw Mayor Cochran sitting up at the side of his bed. He seemed to be basking in the moonlight that streamed in through his window. There was a strange tightness in the room that made it seem much more narrow than it actually was. He turned toward me, the age lines etched deeper in his features than what I had seen on the television, just the other day. The things he spoke did not seem to pertain to any questions I posed to him. His sanity seemed fractured, steeped with anguish over what he did to his family, what they had supposedly become. He spoke of the fire at Yankee Stadium, and how so many more blazes just like that one illuminated the planet like candles in the blackness of space. He dug his fingernails into his cheek as he spoke, growing agitated as he described a certain entity that had orbited our planet for some time, using the sun itself as a blindspot to avoid detection from our satellites and telescopes.

A scratch at the window interrupted his stream-of-consciousness rambling. A small yelp escaped my mouth as I tripped backwards. Three silhouettes loomed well in front of any potential footing that window ledge may have offered. The Mayor cried out in a peal of uncanny horror I didn’t expect to hear from a man. The figures reached to the glass, sliding their fingers through. What caused my brain to start doubting itself though, was that the slender fingers parted the glass, as if it had the same substance as a curtain. It was the Mayor’s family!

They had phosphorescent threads hanging over their heads, stretching out into the endless night sky. And hints of the same strange markings I saw on the earlier patient.

Wrenching the door open and entering, a guard from the group outside opened fire. While the bullets sent fragments of their heads and clumps of their golden hair flying, the gun ultimately proved ineffectual as the Mayor’s wife and daughters were already in much worse shape. Did Cochran fire at them with a shotgun, back at their estate?? I edged my way along the wall, only now realizing that there were gunshots popping from outside the room, as well. I may very well be wandering into a death trap, but every instinct in my body was telling me to vanish from this situation. One of the daughters pinned the cop to the floor. Despite her face being ghoulishly half-erased from buckshot, it was still quite sufficient in taking a bite out of the officer’s throat. The other two crawled onto the Mayor’s mattress, crooning at him as his cries of terror were reduced to the whimper of a dumb animal. I slipped out the door, the death-rattling screams of the two victims following me out.

Vampires. This was the secret behind this world-threatening event - vampires?

The lights were still on in the hallway. I found myself very appreciative that there were no floorboards to creak with each careful and deliberate step I took. Wheelchairs and drip stands and gurneys were turned over, as if a hurricane had torn its way through the hallway.

My thoughts were racing, but also sticky. Should I go for the slower but more discreet exit down four flights of stairs? Or should I stress test my already rotten luck with the elevator? My cup runneth over with all these delightful decisions!

A ceiling panel came crashing down, just behind me.

I froze. My heart thumped harder than the speakers at the Danzig show I went to a couple months back. The dust from outdated insulation spread around me, which caused my knees to bend lower. I hoped like mad the dust was making me just a tiny bit closer to invisible. The animalistic rasping betrayed the presence of something behind me.

Slowly, slowly my head turned. More ceiling fragments fell down, but mixed with that was the sing-song giggle of a little girl. I spun, and at my feet was Alison. She let out a whimper, as the child I heard sat beside her, dabbing her fingertips with blood from Alison's throat. She then folded open a coloring book, scrawling the blood from her fingers within the flowers illustrated. Also, the child's mouth and chin were caked with blood.

She asked me to help her color the roses. They were always best when they were red.

I knelt down, reaching for a white towel lying nearby to compress Alison's wound. The child snarled, with the lines in her face briefly warping into something that didn't even vaguely look human, before reverting to a firm and forceful child’s scowl. I froze, and forced myself to nod in compliance. I reached down, smothering my nausea in my stomach as I allowed a couple rivulets of blood to dab on my fingers.

I brushed my fingers on the page. Alison was going cold.

As the child busied herself with her little tapestry, Alison gestured to her own hand - she held a shard of glass, concealed under her wrist. With the most invisible and static of movement, I slowly took the glass piece while my free hand continued to draw whatever strokes of blood that hadn't dried from my fingers.

I blacked out for a fraction of a second, as I watched the little girl feed off the bite wound from Alison's throat. I leaned back behind the girl, ready to put this crude and ugly implement to work to save my friend. Before I touched it to her throat though, I saw what seemed to be an ethereal circuit running from the girl's head to the night sky, outside the broken window.

I grasped the cord. So the threads hanging from the heads of those women weren’t just a hallucination. The girl's head jerked back, her eyes rolling back in her head. Two needle-like fangs stretched out of her mouth as her guttural deluge of agony rang through the halls. The pure and dainty innocence of this child was erased in the concussive roar of a creature that one could only describe as rabid and not of this planet. She - it was seized in pain, but there was no way I could let it go again. Its feral arms flailed and the skin rushed with blood beneath skin that became less opaque.

I drew the glass across the cord. Like a puppet relinquishing its strings, she crumpled where she sat on the floor.

The skin rapidly turned to cinders, and I pushed the horror and dread of my experience to the back of my mind as I knelt down beside Alison, letting her walk me through the steps on how to treat her wounds. Thankfully there wasn’t much beyond applying some antibacterial ointment and dressing her up with bandages.

She leaned on my shoulder as I guided us down the stairs. We thankfully had no more insanity to encounter, at least while on the premises. We got in her car and drove off to my apartment, where I got her some food to regain her lost iron and let her rest in my bed.

And there I was in my office, making the final touches on my byline with an old analog typewriter, beneath the glow of a few candles I had in my wardrobe. Electricity went out for the block a couple hours prior. I sighed between cupped hands and leaned back in my seat, staring at the ceiling as I sucked my cigarette down to its filter. I went through whatever extra care and steps I could to treat Alison’s injury, but the glow of the cigarette’s cherry reminded me of how the child erupted with cosmic energies, as if a filament had burned itself out within her. Gore and disintegration blossomed in the peripheral vision of my memory, and I tried to pretend the ashes were just dust from the insulation, and my instincts as a journalist fought for but a glimpse as I carefully wrapped my friend’s throat up.

What was even happening to me. I had no time to think about what side of me this crisis was bringing out before I felt a movement in the office doorway. Alison stood there, a calm and pleasing smile on her face, and her lips a more stark crimson than I’d ever seen on her usually peach-hued mouth. Her skin held a serene glow in the candle light, and she asked me to change her bandages. It was but a flicker, but I saw the thread-like cord hanging above her head. It was at this point I dove out the window, landing on the fire escape on the rickety old balcony. I had to run - Alison had been infected.

Central Park was my last place of refuge. I could only hope that running and hiding through the park would buy enough time for daylight’s salvation, just as it was in the movies. I ran for refuge at Belvedere Castle, feeling my extremities start to shut down in the cold. I reached down as I moved, grabbing a bunch of newspapers to wrap around myself for any extra bit of insulation I could manage. I shut out the thoughts that I was going to become one of them, and hobbled my way to the antiquated tower.

4:55. That was what the clock hands read. The daylight would be here very shortly.

The door creaked open before my hand touched it. Alison stepped forth from the pitch darkness, grasping me before I could do anything. Her arms snaked around me, and she trilled in a low voice about how sweet my blood smelled.

I told her she should let me go and hide back inside, and she giggled playfully at the idea. Was she seriously not scared of the sun? It couldn’t be true, but she held my head up to look at the sky. Backlit by flashes of lightning - no, missile fire from both fighter jets and anti-air turrets, there was an unimaginably gargantuan mass of what seemed to be….aquatic muscle? Tendrils flicked out and stabbed down to the ground. The gunfire that erupted was not pointing upwards, but rather level to the ground.

This thing, Alison’s sire, was not of this world. What concern was the sun to this monstrosity, when it drifted through space to visit us?

[quickdeaths]

"Sonia-san, then," Murasame agreed with a quiet nod, forcing upon his weary features a more relaxed and generous smile. If their guest preferred that sort of informality, then it was his duty to provide it without argument. He'd lead by example, and hopefully his friends would follow suit, and everything would go swimmingly. It had to. "I'm sorry for not remembering." A bow, forty-five degrees in saikeirei style, properly respectful and apologetic without lowing himself to the ground - an action which would both serve only to embarrass himself and his guest, and mark his clothes up with sand. "But, Naegi-san said there's a chance that our lost memories will come back to us in time, so I'll hope for it."

Matsuda had seemed dismissive of that idea being on any kind of realistic timescale, but pessimistic thinking wasn't Murasame's job. He'd leave that kind of thing to Matsuda, and hope that he didn't leave too bad an impression on Sonia. "It might be asking a lot, but I'm sure everyone would appreciate it, even so. I'm sure everyone will be happy to have someone to talk to." It was easier to believe it could be to some benefit if Sonia herself believed it, so for his own sake, he'd hope she could show a little more faith in her own role. "If that's the case, I think I should show you around our facilities, so you can understand what we're working with. Hopefully, we can introduce you to some of the others, as well."

With a nod towards Sonia and her entourage, Murasame set off in the direction of the farm. "Unfortunately, as you've probably heard, a lot of us are still..." Ever the politician, he realized how unpleasant medical words like coma sounded, catching himself before the word could pass his lips. "Resting. We've had to focus on essential things for now." Even from outside the fences, the farm's unique layout was plain to see - plots arranged in a uniform square grid similar to a video game simulator, with small signs placed near each cluster. "We're lucky to have Shikiba-san. He's always working hard here, and without his crossbreeding techniques, we'd have a lot less to eat."

Shikiba himself was outside, kneeling near a plot of vegetables and diligently writing their exact specifications in the small spiralbound notebook that fit easily in the deep pockets of his white labcoat. "Shikiba-san!" Murasame waved in his friend's direction, drawing the man's attention and prompting him to stand a safe distance on the other side of the fence. "Come say hello. We have a guest." Up closer, if not exactly close, it was easy to see exactly how much of Shikiba's body was covered, with heavy gloves and compression sleeves, as well as a clear helmet that surrounded the top half of his head, while a gas mask connected to a tank on his back covered his lower face. Silently, he waved to Sonia.

"Shikiba-san doesn't say much," Murasame explained to Sonia, mumbling so as not to draw too much attention to it, or embarrass his former classmate. "And he doesn't like people getting too close. It's a complicated story, and I don't understand it entirely myself, but it's for everyone's comfort and safety, so please respect it." That was a lie. Murasame remembered everything, the rows upon rows of Shikiba's test subjects vivisected with plant matter bonded to their organs, trying to nurture aberrant growth inside of an already-living organism. Directed appropriately, the spores would secrete out with breath, sweat, even saliva. The ultimate biohazard of despair, with Shikiba himself the final step in its evolution.

But he couldn't think of those things, not if he wanted Naegi's plans to succeed. They'd all need to get over those memories. "Oh, and Sato-san is here as well. Hello, Sato-san! Are you preparing for dinner?" Ayaka Sato, wearing similar gloves and a small facemask looked over, her pink eyes flicking towards the pair on the other side of the fence as she pulled a small cart already loaded with rice, vegetables, and soybeans. "Yeah," she muttered in a flat tone of voice.

Even through her dismissive tone, Murasame persevered, the smile plastered over the cracks in his expression. "Thank you for the hard work, Sato-san. We're all in your debt." When it was clear Ayaka wasn't going to respond to that, he gestured to Sonia. "And this is Sonia-san. She's here to help us out, so please show her some of our hospitality when you can." For her part, Ayaka turned back to look at then, focusing her attention on Sonia for a moment as though trying to remember something. A mumbler at the best of times, Murasame couldn't make out what she said under her breath, though he thought he heard her say 'Yaguchi'. Oh, no, Sato-san, please don't bring something like that up at a time like this. Let's put our best foot forward as a group for Sonia-san.

Once Sonia had finished her own introductions to Sato and Shikiba, Murasame gave a small nod. "There are a lot of places to show Sonia-san to, so we'll be leaving, but good luck with everything, Shikiba-san, Sato-san."

Murasame had done his best to show Sonia around the facilities, from the hospital to the music venue to the movie theater to the well-stocked market. Introducing her to the other remnants, though, seemed to be harder than he'd thought. With a weakly apologetic smile, he gave another gentle bow towards Sonia as they walked away from the cliffside laboratory covered in satellite dishes and measuring devices. "I'm very sorry about Kamiya-san, Sonia-san. Hopefully she'll be in a better mood next time, and you can introduce yourself to her." Thankfully, Hinata had been in the area, and could help calm Kamiya down from her wailing sobs and obsessive rituals so that she'd be able to make dinner.

"I hope you can look past it and not think less of her. She was raised very religiously, which doesn't help her..." Was there another way to say guilt that was less incriminating, or less prone to bad memories? "perspective." Even back in their school days, some of the things Kamiya said about her hometown bordered on the concerning, but Murasame had been far more interested in being everyone's friend than probing deeper. He never would have expected her to be mixed-up in something like a cult, let alone one that was so easily-utilized during the Tragedy. Now, though, he worried if Kamiya would ever recover - it seemed like the pressure that weighed upon each of them was much less bearable by the girl who had been revered as a goddess in human form.

It did put Murasame in a difficult position, either way. He'd hoped that Kamiya and Hinata could make a good impression on Sonia, because the two that remained... likely wouldn't. "Sonia-san," he said, stopping and turning to face her before they entered the central laboratory that housed his friends. "Please don't be alarmed at Matsuda-san's appearance, or his attitude. He's been through a lot." Although Matsuda was almost never kind to him, Murasame wanted to extend to him as much kindness as he did everyone else. More, even. "I'm sure you'll already do so, but I'd consider it a personal favor if you could try to be understanding about him."

If she'd been briefed at all, Murasame imagined Sonia knew about Murasame, given how infamous he was in all of this. He'd been Her childhood friend and later Her lover. He'd given Her all his research, everything She'd needed to do what She did, and in return, She'd tried to kill him. First quickly, then slowly, time after time, all for Her own despair. He'd loved Her, and tried to help Her. Things might have turned out differently if She'd remained Ryoko Otonashi, although Murasame wondered if thinking that was just pawning off his own culpability onto Matsuda. After all, as the Class Representative, Student Council President, and moral leader of 77-A, it had been his own responsibility to protect his classmates. He, Soshun Murasame, should have been stronger, set a better example.

Besides, Matsuda's research had also been used extensively in the creation of the Neo World Program. He'd done his penance, while Murasame still had a life of hard redemption ahead. "Matsuda-san? Are you here? It's Murasame - please come out." There was no immediate answer in the dark lab, heavy machinery illuminated by the pale green glow of the tanks that housed his former classmates. "I'm sure he's around somewhere." Stepping inside, the smile on Murasame's lips finally slipped off as he noticed posters plastered above each tank - a number of bounty notices, international briefings, and mugshots of each of them from their darkest days. Though the tank he'd been in was now empty, there it was, hanging over it - Murasame's 'inauguration' photo, grinning like a sadist in his pressed suit and his Monokuma lapel pin. With a shaky hand, he reached to pull it down, only to yelp and yank his wrist back as a scalpel came flying across the lab and embedded itself in the poster just past where his fingers had been.

"Don't touch that." Before he'd even spoken, the sound of Matsuda's cane announced his arrival. His body was covered in scars: burns, knives, bullets, all the twisted signs of Her love. He limped with one leg, and wore a brace on the matching arm to help with strength and positioning. Her poisoned lips had failed to kill him, but each kiss had done more and more damage to his body. Maybe that would have been Matsuda's own ultimate despair - to be a neuroscientist trapped inside his own brain.

"Sonia-san, this is Matsuda-san," Murasame started, gesturing to the other man, "He's-" "Cut the introductions," Matsuda interrupted, arriving at the two of them. "She knows who we are, and we know who she is. It's a waste of air to introduce us." Murasame guessed that was true. She'd been briefed, and even if they didn't remember her, no one could forget what Yaguchi had said, or what had happened to Aoyama for going against her request. Just for that reason alone, Sonia Nevermind was a name every one of the Remnants knew.

"Alright," Murasame murmured, diplomatically, after a quiet moment. "But, Sonia-san is here to help us for now, Matsuda-san, so if you could be a little more polite, I think that would help." He turned back to Sonia, all capacity for apology and deep bows having been emptied out by the day's events. "Like I said earlier, a lot of our classmates are still... in a state. Matsuda-san, and Hinata-san who you briefly met earlier, are working on how to safely revive everyone."

That Sonia was there to help didn't seem to be a sentiment Matsuda accepted easily, though he'd clearly put together a few conclusions just from the sight of her. "Our memories have been wiped out and the Neo World Program scrambled what was left." Matsuda shook his head as he looked down on one of the tanks, the form inside only faintly visible behind the tinted glass. "Without the right preparation, waking up and remembering everything, and realizing how our bodies have changed, would send anyone into a dangerous amount of shock and mental strain." There was a screen with a number of readings, which Matsuda knelt down to read, before typing in a few parameter changes.

"And everyone's thankful that you're here to help with that, Matsuda-san, but do you think those posters are helping? You aren't supposed to have those here." Matsuda grimaced, looking up from the tank. Aoyama's pictures were there, accompanied by newspaper clippings of the mass murder-suicides that had spread like a plague among the world's young women. "We're talking about memories, right? I need to remember these. If you have a problem, take it up with Hinata, if he can find the time to get off his ass and help me."

"That's really not fair to-" "Shut the fuck up, Murasame," Matsuda groaned as he again typed on the keypad beside the tank. "You, delusional princess." He pointed to Sonia without looking at her. "I don't need help. I know my own mind and I know what I need, but if you keep idiots like Murasame occupied, then I'll consider you a positive." He bristled, adjusting his position so he could stretch the arm occupied by his cane without losing his balance. "And if you're here, then you're Future Foundation-approved, and that's all there is to it. Take your tour, look at history's biggest, most evil losers, ask your questions, but just don't touch anything."

"If I am both sleeping and dining here, surely they are all going to think I am above them. You must realize that."

"Because you are above them, whether you choose to embrace that or not," The blunt reply came from through the digital screen, a pair of emerald eyes scrutinizing the way her daughter's hair was being arranged. Without a real hat, for one: just a straw thing with a ribbon Sonia had insisted upon. Queen Valentina of Novoselic didn't agree with it: it was fine for a beach holiday before The Tragedy, but this was different: her daughter was not just a princess in the world, she was the princess. From the nation that had remained steadfast and strong throughout the terror of The Tragedy: Novoselic's walls had never been breached in over a thousand years of its modern existence, and Junko Enoshima's reign of terror hadn't changed that. Novoselic, and the Royal Family themselves, were symbols of hope, of a bright future, of leadership and healing from the mass genocide spread throughout the world. The fact her daughter had been a pupil at the origin of it all, Hope's Peak Academy, and had emerged unscathed, stronger and admirable and beautiful in the way no other future leader could ever hope to be, was a source of pride for Valentina.

Her wishy-washy attitude regarding her potential fiancés, however, was a sore point. Something she hoped would be rectified with enough time in the most suitable contender's company.

"But I am not," Sonia stressed as one maid, padding around the plush, new carpeting in her bedroom, selected a pair of shoes (suede, with thin heels. The sort her feet were shoved into before The Tragedy for official appearances) while a hair and makeup artist added a layer of gloss to her lips. From the outside, the ship appeared every inch a military battle fortress, complete with cannons and an air landing strip. Inside, once it had been decommissioned from war after The Tragedy, had been transformed to another sort of fortress: a royal command center, from sitting rooms ideal for private meetings, a dining room with a table that sat twenty, an office, several bed and bathrooms, and of course, space for the extensive amount of security and staff needed to run the place. There was even a well-stocked larder, with supplies from both Europe and Japan, to keep the Princess of Novoselic entirely fed, bathed, clothed, and entertained without relying upon Jabberwock Island resources. From the array of conversations with Byakuya Togami, he deemed it unfit for the likes of Princess Sonia and had urged her family to send an appropriate vessel for her living space. He would have arranged it himself, had he not been so busy with Future Foundation duties.

Frankly, he was too busy to give her the time of day unless it was absolutely essential and related to work or a future he envisioned. Sonia tried not to think about it as she sighed, removing the heels that had been put on her feet for her. "I am here at the behest of an old acquaintance, to see what I might be able to do to help the former Remnants of Despair acclimate to the current state of the world, and help them find their place in it. Masaru Yaguchi has done many favors for the Future Foundation, and this was the only request he made in return. It is the least we can do in exchange for his service."

"And to spend time with Mr. Togami," Her mother added.

"Yes, that too," Sonia relented. Between the constant rocking of the waves and the oppressive heat, two things she'd become unaccustomed to in the past few years, she wasn't in a mood to debate with her. But the fact of the matter was, she had yet to make a choice that would shape her entire life, and time avoiding that very decision was, even more than Masaru Yaguchi's plea and subsequent secrets he held over her head as an albatross, made her tour of Jabberwock Island all the more appealing. Even if she were to deal with staff fussing over her every need and then some, recording the evidence of her peaceful mission, reporting back to the Royal Family at home about her progress on several fronts.

"These are going to sink in the sand," She insisted, to both her mother on the video call at home and to the array of people in the room, from those entrusted to beautify her to Martin, her assistant secretary. Her primary secretary and closest friend at home, Cecily, was prone to seasickness and therefore Martin had been sent in her stead. Unlike her sharp eyes, squared shoulders, and generally organized and commanding presence, Martin was far more meek. From what Sonia had been told, he'd nearly doubled over with both gratitude and apprehension when the duties had been assigned: at least he didn't suffer from seasickness, only jittery nerves at being the one fully in charge of Sonia's life for the duration of the trip.

"Y-yes, Her Royal Highness is correct, I think!" He piped up. With mousy brown hair and barely 64 kilograms soaking wet at 170 centimeters, he was short and slight for a Novosonian man, with a timidness to match. But he had a desire to prove himself, which had encouraged Cecily to ask the King of Novoselic for permission to offer him the job. "It would be discouraging in photos if she is seen tripping when meeting members of the Future Foundation and the former Remnants of Despair! Please, choose something more sensible for her."

"You do not question Her Royal Highness's opinions, Martin," Cecily's voice chimed in from the background, albeit tiredly. Morning in an island off the coast of Japan was nighttime for Novoselic, and the last thing she wanted to do was sit in Queen Valentina's bedroom in Novoselic Castle while addressing Martin's missteps. She'd run out of coffee three hours ago and was not inclined to wake up someone in the kitchens for more. "You simply amend the plan, unless it is from Their Majesties and must be adhered to."

"The espadrilles, then!" The maid interjected, holding up a pair of cream-colored canvas shoes with wedge heels and matching laces, to be done up like ballerina slippers around her ankles and lower calves. Sonia sighed and nodded: she was already going to look ridiculous: roasting in a long-sleeved crepe dress with a bateau neckline and fitted skirt, its aquamarine color matching the ribbon on her hat and corresponding aquamarine earrings she wore. She was made to look like the crystal blue sea that surrounded Jabberwock Island, but Sonia only saw it as a relic from a world that no longer existed. Who was left to complete royal tours anymore? Besides her, of course.

"Yes, those shall do," Queen Valentina agreed, causing the maid's cheeks to flush pink: approval from the Queen was a rare privilege. Luckily, she could turn away from the screen as she tied the laces around and front and back and to the side, securing them into even bows. "And Martin, ensure that whatever Future Foundation officer is assigned greeting Princess Sonia, that they take her to Mr. Togami at the earliest convenience. And do not let her go out during the day without sunscreen and a parasol. She will not be returning home tanned and freckled: the photos will be atrocious and it is terrible for her health."

"Of course, ma'am!" He replied, though upon noticing Cecily's tired eyes he stood a little straighter.

"Very good. Well then, best of luck my darling," Queen Valentina offered a sleepy smile of her own to Sonia as the princess stood, turning in a full rotation for her mother's final approval. "I am sure you will be a triumph. You always are, and this will be such good support for your father and Novoselic's place in the new world."

A farewell and she was off, into the small speedboat that would take the away party from the ship to Jabberwock Island proper, both Martin and a maid, alongside two security officers, trailing in Sonia's wake. The young woman had taken her Queen's advice seriously, and now carefully held a UV-reflecting parasol above her Princess's head, moving in tandem with every step she took.

Sonia wished it were quicksand, rather than fluffy white granules that sparkled in the mid-morning sun. It was mortifying, walking up to a former Remnant of Despair (he lacked the quintessential black suit the Future Foundation favored), someone essentially marooned on a deserted resort island, while she looked as if she was about to negotiate some sort of treaty or trade agreement.

"Thank you," Sonia returned his smile with one that lit up her features far more. Even the prospect of leaving Novoselic for a little while was enough to encourage it. "And please, it is 'Sonia-san.' It is good to see you again, Murasame-san, though you may not remember me. I have been briefed on that." To that end, many, if not all, of the former Remnants might not recall her. A side effect of the Neo World Program, their memories were likely in bits and pieces, more fragmented the closer it was to Junko Enoshima's takeover of the former Class 77-A.

She nodded as they walked, noticing a slight wave from a Future Foundation member. Asahina, if she remembered correctly: one of the survivors of Class 78 who was likely instructed to be on her best behavior, because she wouldn't hear the end of it otherwise. "Thank you, I would very much appreciate the tour so I might become acclimated to the place," She replied. "I am interested in whatever you wish to show me. Unofficially, my duties here will consist of opportunities to bring relaxation and recreation to you, though my instructions are to provide someone to listen should you wish to talk, and mentorship if approaching the Future Foundation is too difficult. A third party of sorts, but between the two of us, I find it difficult to believe that anyone would utilize a sign up form to speak to someone they do not know. I mean, if it were me, I feel like it would be asking quite a lot to trust an outsider, and not someone who truly understands what you have endured. The Novoselic Royal Family and the Future Foundation do not agree with that stance though, so here I am."

It was the truth, just not the entirety. It would go against Masaru's request to divulge in full the reasoning behind her visit. Even Byakuya Togami and Makoto Naegi were kept in the dark: he'd keep his promise, if Sonia kept hers. And allowed him use of Boudry House during her absence, for convalescence. Upon her departure, she'd politely asked (well, she warned) him that if her library was out of order when she returned, she would be very disappointed with the eldest Yaguchi sibling.

[saucy-mesothelioma]

Saw a meme like this a while back and decided to do some of my favorite osts

[letjonstewartsayfuck]

werewolf Chris my beloved

[ao3feed-danganronpa]

Video Games In Danganronpa

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/0DIL6tu

by Jxstudios

Rated "M" for Mature

"So, what to here a story eh? A tale of heroes conquering death and despair with Hope? If not then too bad I'm telling you anyway."

The Firehawk, Lilith, and 15 others video game characters find themselves trapped in Pandora's First Ever Killing Game? Will she and the other's make it out to see another day or will they succumb to Despair.

The following Fangan contains Blood and Gore, Intense Violence, Strong Language, Mature Humor, Suggestive Themes, Use of Alcohol, Tobacco Reference

(This was originally gonna be on my wattpad but I decided to move this over to A03)

Words: 92, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Borderlands (Video Games), Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy, Life is Strange (Video Game), Super Mario Bros. (Video Games), Sonic the Hedgehog (Video Games), Metal Gear, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, Tomb Raider (Video Games), The Last of Us (Video Games), Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Watch Dogs (Video Games), Saints Row, Star Fox (Video Games)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: Gen

Characters: Lilith (Borderlands), Rhys (Borderlands), Zer0 (Borderlands), Maxine "Max" Caulfield, Mario (Nintendo), Luigi (Nintendo), Sonic the Hedgehog, Solid Snake, Link (Legend of Zelda), Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Lara Croft, Samus Aran, Cloud Strife, Aerith Gainsborough, Garrus Vakarian, Claire Redfield, Marcus Holloway, Johnny Gat, Tifa Lockhart, Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Joel (The Last of Us), Wolf O'Donnell

Additional Tags: protag lilith, Mix of TLOU 1 and 2 Ellie, Intermissions, Fan Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Set in Borderlands, 2013 Lara, atrantino vibes, tarantino vibes

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/0DIL6tu