#1
X͟a͏vi̴er ̀[XW̧ ̢E̵xec̷ut̀ive]̡
Sword by his side, the corpse of Ainsley lies by the Bonfire, his blood leaching out into the grass. Xavier leans down next to him, and lifts the katana up. He examines it for a moment, then turns to his companion, a Monokuma wearing the Big Daddy suit. He motions towards the Chapel with his head, a signal for the Monokuma to stand watch. The bear-turned-mecha-pilot obliges, and trundles off in that direction.

Xavier flicks the blood and cheese from the sword, and leaves towards Trip's Pad.

Above ground, one chef remains, idly waiting for whatever chance he can get to make his escape, if that's even possible. Gordon Ramsay... the last of the chefs. One by one, they'd all fallen. Some at the hands of others, some done in by their own hubris, but not Ramsay. Forged in the fires of hell's kitchen itself, he had always felt like he was preparing for something besides dinner. But... would this be where he would meet his end?

Paddling furiously in a vain attempt to escape the waves that drew him right back in, Bigfoot floats in a crate, a folding shovel serving as his makeshift oar. Unlike the chef, he had no talents, abilities, or unique traits. Likewise, he had no dignity, and his Loot Crate subscriptions reflected that, at least for a while. But underneath the american flag do-rag, the sunglasses, the gintoki lounge pants, and the innumerable amount of t-shirts, beats the heart of a traitor. Now, thanks to certain unscrupulous deals on his end, he is armed, dangerous, and also definitely still dressed like an idiot.

In the skies above, a helicopter circles, but after an entire day in the air, begins to run low on fuel. Gasoline supplies mostly spent, it wavers slightly, and its AI controller lands it carefully in the blown-out remains of the Chemistry Lab.

One seat remains open, along with emergency manual controls. It just needs fuel...

Meanwhile, deep below the island, others were planning.

Trip, the ASMR Youtuber, Fink, Hilary Clinton, and Godbert Manderville were an odd grouping. A cameraman, an alcoholic, a politician, a chick with a gun, and a guy who fixes things really really well. Yet, something had brought them together, whether it be fate, misfortune, or the doing of the treasure that lay in the center of its sanctum.

Xavier pushes thoughts of them out of his mind as he approaches a desk in the Arcadia Laboratory. He leans against the large window spanning the front of the facility, and snatches an intercom mic from the desk. He presses a button on the device, clears his throat, and grins.

Back on the island, a loudspeaker rises from the top of Trip's Pad, and a voice begins to cut through the cold night air.


---

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"Hello there, my (not so) beloved island-dwelling freelancers! While I would normally hope that you enjoyed the brief time I've given you to plan your own funerals and say your prayers, I'm afraid that not only will you not be getting funerals, but there's no one out there listening to your cries for help.

It's alright though, those that came before you didn't exactly get proper burials either, did they? Perhaps they faded away, consumed by their own continous echo of the past, or perhaps they simply turned to dust after god knows how long of dying and being reborn.

The experiment in the Vault at least demonstrated what happens when time resets and the dead are brought back, but y'know, I'm tempted to see what happens when a human being dies over and over and over again. So by all means, stay cooped up in your little basement."


[Image: x3za8zE.gif]

"But think, for a moment. Do any you have any idea how many years of research went into finding this place? Restoring the houses? I had to puppet around some fat fuck for like a week! Who are you? A politician? A drunk? Some guy who fixes shit? A youtuber who literally hasn't made a single video? Compared to you, even the ape had class.

You really want to just let all this progress go to waste? For what, your own lives? Don't make me laugh.

The only way out is to give me the treasure and die, you know that right? As long as you remain here with that thing intact, you'll be stuck within its sphere of influence, and nothing you do will ever matter again. You'll go mad, and then madder. "


[Image: gTVKN7v.gif]

"I'm sure that ALSO happened to those old-timey clowns mind you. If you think this island sucks now, you should've seen the state of it BEFORE the restoration crew showed up.

Carnage, I'm telling you. Yet no sign of anyone for miles. I'd call it creepypasta material, but I have actual taste in literature. Not that it'll matter, because when I'm done with you, there won't be anything to bring back.

And no, I'm not stupid enough to wait in the Chapel for you to bum rush me. If you want to actually throw yourself at me and try to yoink my
Admin Keycard as some kind of pseudo-heroic suicide stunt, be my guest, but it'll be on my own turf. Whether you play nice, or whether you decide to try and waste your time fighting me again, the outcome won't change."


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S̘̣̜͓̯̮̕O͏͍͎̫̦ B̟͈͎͎̬̮͘E̲̫̙͉̯͖ ̜͓͕͙̰̗̮M̬̬̀Y҉̺̮̭ ̙̕G͕͉̝̪͉̣̪̕U̮͍̻̺̬̞ͅĘ̝̙̖S̶͓̖̥T̻͖.͓̭
͉̺́
͖T̝̟ͅO̷̮̬̤̪O̜̰̺̬ ̠L̜̠̥͎O͓̱N̶̥̬G̦̜ H͈̘̺̤̗A̮͔̮͎̠̖ͅVḚ̱̤̖ Ỳ̪̯̗̦͇O̸̪̳̳͈͚̝U͈̬̦͚̪ ̯̞̥͝B̵E̶̙̻͕͎̥E̗͖͍̫͇̙N̛̻̬͎̹̯͍͓ ̥̥͙̼͖̭A͎͙ ̝͘T͖̞̲͢H̴O͉̟͔͜ͅR̮̙̤N̡̺͍̻̱ ̳̜̪̦͖I͙̼N͈͕̲̜͇̤͖ ͙̠̲͕M͓̭̣͝ͅY̱͍̤͈͚͝ ̴̥̮̳͚S̙͔͔͓͚I҉̩̻DE̦̪̳.̰͖͓̻̟͇͇ ̳I̤͙͙͚̰͈͞'̬M̵ ͍͠A̘̹̙̠͜B͕̲͓̪̭͙O̻̰̗͈̹̘̞U̶͔̤̯̱Ṱ̜̣̮̜̭͇ ̥͈T̗͔̼̠̬̥O̱̠ ̟͕̥̠͙̬M̰̺̥̜̲͜A̧̲̺͈͙K͖̯E͓̠̣͈̟̳̕ ͉͕̙̫Ţ͕̠H̱̖̰͜E ̻A̺̕V̭ER̩̠͘AG͍̜͕̤͇̳E̖͉̺̻͈̱ͅ ͇D̨̹̬O͉̻̰͔̲U̞͍̖̭B͎̦Ļ͔̰̻̱̼͔E̖͓̖ ͍͇̪̗̼̫͝M̷̖͕͎͕̲Ų͇̲̘R͏̟D̰̙͙͇ͅE̺̞̻̜̦̥̻R̞͚͇̱̝̘̹ ̨̰͉͕̮N̠̝̟̖̣Í̹̥̟̯G̵̰̞H̯͈T L̸͍̦̞͇̗̼̜O̡̜̞̻̻O̢̝K̦͙ ̡̦̣L̴̠̟̺I̴̙͓K̹̘̱̫͎̯̕E̶͓̯ W͚̣̭̣̝̼I̤N̳̹N̲̠̠̳͈͞I̯̩͎͞E͘ ̩̙̫̦T̞̦H̸̱̠͙̣E͉ ̴̮F̹̞̖̳̤̪U̧͚̫̠̲C̪K҉I̭̥N̩͖̯G̺̘̥̪̩̲̲͘ P̖Ọ̴͔̟OH̻̤.̭͇͞
͙̻̜̮
̧͉T͍̗̩I͉̟̺M͍͇͔̤̣̩̺͢Ḛ̖̳̖̠̯ ̦͙́ͅA͔̗͠F͏T͓͍̯̳̜͓̰͜Ḙ̷̖̳R͉̻͚̣͙ ̣͍̰̣͇͠T̪͚̳I҉̹̫̦͔M̝͇͢E͕͈͇͉͙̠,̱̞͖͢ ̞͕͔̰̖T̮H̭̜̮̺̠͈̝Ḛ͓̙̳̠̯͝SE̸̦̥͓̜͍ ̫͔͉̫̣̩͉K̶͓̫͙͎̯͎͔Ị̰L̨̼͉͎̞̣̻L͎͇̲̙̙̰̰IN͓̼̳̞̺̩̯G̵ ̘̙̬G̺̦̮̠͚͖͔̕A̱̘̖̦̻M͙̳̤͠E͙͕̮̳͢Ş̟̱͕ ̡͎Ḩ͓̟̞̞Á̼͖͕ͅV̻̣̫̭̙̘Ḛ ̶̭̘̗̫Ṟ̮̜̘̞E̪̲͇S̹̣͉͖̦U̧̠̳͍̺̱̗L͙̝̝̲̻̹̦̕T̞̤͕Ę̠D ̛̰̺̭I̛͉͔͈͓͇͍N̵̺̖ ̲̫͉̫͉̗V̰͇̙͚̯̱I̝C̜̯͍̬̰T̢̼̣̖̞̤O̜̫̳͉̜̺R̤̯̱͉̱Ỳ̯̲̙͇ ̷FO͏̰̺̹͎̠͓Ŗ̩͕̯ ͖͇O̙̞̯͟N̲̼̙̬͔̺ͅL̛Y͔ ͝T̠͔̫H̤̟͇̜͢ͅE̖̩̻͙̘̻ M͈̦͖̼͕O̱̤S̞̪͖̳T̷̗ ̴̜͖̦͙̺̬IN̵̩S͉̙̥̭̰̳͢U̬̟̣̙̱̹͞F̡͓̠̱̪F̰͚̺̬E͈͟R̶͕A̼̰̮͍̲͖B̖L̡͉̼̫̟ͅͅE̠͡ͅ ̵̮̖̝̻̞OF̳̟̪̟̠͝ ̻P̺̗̗̥̭̤͖A̸̤̦̬̫R͝T̥͇͉̝̕I̡C̢I҉̘͔P̸̲̮̜̺AN̸̰͖̜Ț̶͖̹̥͓̫ͅS̬̰͔,̳̲̪ ̮̱̺̣̣Ḇ̨̩̫Ṳ͈̰̙͓̬͇͝T̙̥́ ̸T̜̺͇̜̩͠H̫̮A̤̙̠͎͘T̪ ̧C̵̣͎̩̲͎H̤̺̦͉͍͚A͈͚̘͙̜N҉̠͙̮̜ͅǴ͎͕͕̲̠̯̘E͇͖͉͎̥̫͞S̲̬ ҉͙͎͖̝T̡͉̜͓ͅO̸̜D̤A̜̯͙̘̦̯̝Y̝͎̯ͅ.̨̯̦̖
̼̲͇̹́ͅ
̜͚̖͖̗̮̘͝P̭̜͔̙̝̲̖R̷̭͙̟̩̺͓͈E̹͟P͏̞̘͍A͈͠R̖̼̼͔͜Ḛ̵ ̜̳͖͢F̙O̠̲R ̶̻͓͓̞T̹̻͕̙̲̩H͉͈̺̲̜͍̘Ę̤͙͈̦̳̝̙ ̧͎̭̬̺E͎̱͢N̶͈̮D.̯̖̭̹



---

The weather forecast for the night is The End. The sky is darker than you thought it could get. You feel hopeless. Everything will end. Give up, it'll be easier that way. Embrace oblivion, and fade away to nothing.

Xavier is waiting in the Arcadia Laboratory, with the Admin Keycard that will allow you to operate the cable car and escape. The remaining Monokuma, armed with the Big Daddy suit is roaming the island, eager to slaughter any treasure hunter it comes across.

One player may take the helicopter to escape. It is located in the ruins of the Chemistry Lab, but requires gasoline to run.

All dead players will b-

[Image: gTVKN7v.gif]

"Nice try, dipshits. These ghosts have been nothing but a pain in my ass since day 1. Here I thought they'd spend their time doing something besides fuck with me, but I guess I was wrong.

Ah well, I'd hate to have them undermine your personal success by helping, you know? So I'm just gonna amend this..."

There will be no ghost participation tonight. I'm afraid you'll have to do this on your own.

---




THE MAP

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Room Descriptions

House Bishop (Red):
House Minerva (Yellow):
House Academia (Blue):
House Oliva (Green):
Trip's Pad (Pink):
Outdoor Areas:

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Room Descriptions

House Bishop (Red):
House Minerva (Yellow):
House Academia (Blue):
House Oliva (Green):

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Room Descriptions

Basement Rooms:

CURRENT PLAYERS:

@Bigfoot
@ASMR Youtuber
@Fink
@Godbert Manderville
@Gordon Ramsay
@Hillary Clinton

You may submit your actions to Trip, Monokuma, Xavier, or Fun With Despair.

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