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( EXECUTION - WEEK 4 )
 Unlike the previous day, those who are asleep past 8:00 AM will experience no pain as they're roused awake. Instead, they're pulled from their sleep peacefully, almost as if enveloped in a mother's loving embrace. A comfortable warmth spreads through their body as they open their eyes, finding themselves free of any grogginess or disorientation. Similarly, those who woke up early or were unable to sleep at all will find themselves alert and ready to take on the day. Considering what is about to transpire, however... no one would be blamed for wishing they could stay asleep. Just like the previous day, residents who do not make their way to the Pool/Outdoor Dining Area before 8:15 AM will be forcibly escorted out of their rooms (or wherever else they may be). True to Craftly's words, one of the faceless men will be waiting under the pool's shiny new tent while all the current survivors gather. Once everyone is there, with the exception of Suzaku, the staff member will take a poster out of absolutely nowhere and hang it up for everyone to see. It seems to be a result of last night's events.
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EXECUTION
This horrifying experience lasts all of two (2) seconds.
When everyone opens their eyes once again, they'll be in the middle of a clearing next to a lake. A nearby sign identifies it as Lake Crotin, but the thick fog surrounding the area makes it hard to see the other end of the lake. Trees and heavy foliage circle the clearing, but again, the fog makes it impossible to see what's in the distance. Despite this, the sun can be seen in the horizon, almost as if witnessing the events that are about to transpire.
As fascinating as the scenery is, however, residents might be more captivated by the sight in front of them. Suzaku is strapped down to a strange table. Barbed wires are wrapped around his throat, wrists, ankles and abdomen. Blood lazily dribbles out of the spots where the wire has already cut into his skin, staining the table underneath him and adding to the agony he soon will experience. While the barbs aren't quite deep enough to puncture anything fatal, they certainly are sharp enough to rip his skin apart should he attempt to trash around or escape his bindings.
Besides him on the platform is a machine, powered by a portable generator that steadily hums with electricity. Coiled cables connect to the generator, suspended by hangers next to the machine. From their current position, the surviving residents will be able to notice the thick, bloodstained needles at the end of the cables. A small metallic table sits near the generator; a pair of child sized rubber gloves innocently lay on top of it.
Faceless men block access to the platform, with Craftly standing a couple paces away from the group, keeping anyone who might want to interfere out... as well as keeping those inside the perimeter in. Trapped on the platform is H.C. Andersen, chained by one of his legs to the machine. Next to him is a wooden sign, with drawn instructions featuring a man stabbing the wires into another man's body (shoulders, stomach, knees, temples, mouth, and many others that won't prove immediately fatal if punctured), before slowly turning a dial on the machine to cause a death by electrocution. The art style may seem familiar to some.
Coming from both nowhere and everywhere at once, an unpleasant, nauseating voice speaks all those who are present. It is not Craftly's voice. It cannot even be classified as a human voice. The longer it's heard, the worse the sensation becomes.]
DES͏T҉̷̸R̸̴O̴̕͘Y͏ ̶T̵̀H̷̨͟E̷̶ ̀F͜҉L̡E͞S̨͘H̨
̛͏
̕͘R͠Ȩ͢͞P͞A̧Y T̴̀Ḩ͟Ę B͠L̸͘ÒÒ͘D̡͏
[The message is clear. Now it's up to the Executioner to decide what to do.]
( This thread is for the majority vote and executioner only. If you wish to react, feel free to post your own top level. )
no subject
[Suzaku is also hungover. A part of him can still see the humor. A part of him is just annoyed because the barbed wire is more than just a bit painful. But it's fine. It's nothing. It's only going to get worse. It hasn't quite hit him yet what this machine is but...oh, he'll get there. Until then, he moves the hand closest to Andersen as best he can with the wires cutting into his wrist.]
I'll help you put it on.
no subject
[It's completely backward? Especially considering every single movement he makes only makes him bleed harder. If this much bothers him, though, it doesn't show on his face. He even smiles.]
I experience something new every day in this place.
no subject
[Surprise tragedies, of course. He loves a good unhappy ending.]
no subject
Electrocution? How delightfully ironic! My own weapon used to kill me. I'd applaud if I could.
[So he knows very well...this is going to hurt. He's seen people die in glorious agony before at his own disposal thanks to this very type of death sentence. Though, it was always over much quicker than this proposes to...if you're not counting his attempts at slaying Yusuke Urameshi, that is.]
I like to think I have a high pain tolerance. I can't decide if I find this unfortunate.
no subject
[He reserves the right to enjoy his poetic justice as far as he can stand it. Carefully, he flexes his fingers for what could very well be the last time as he thinks about an answer to Andersen's question.]
Hard to say. After 400 years, one loses count. However, most of my victims have been lowly demonic creatures, simply given my ban from the human realm, if that makes any sort of moral difference.
[It doesn't. He enjoys it too much to matter.]
no subject
[And if he's being honest, he doesn't want it. He doesn't want to go out comfortably. He wants to go out angry and violent, like a lightbulb bursting under strain. He can't win this game, so he wants to at least be a showstopper.
What a ham, honestly.
When the needle pierces his flesh, it's the best he can do to stop himself from moving involuntarily. Still, Suzaku winces. It's not exactly comfortable.]
A bite like a viper, that is.
no subject
I want to thank you.
no subject
[THIS IS AN HONOR, ANDERSEN.]
You volunteered, didn't you? Not that I deserve any sort of preferential treatment, but I'm glad it's you doing this. I don't care if your limited body causes me more suffering. Ultimately, this was always to have an end.
no subject
[He really wanted to. It's the simple things. Especially when one has little else to do when you're not murdering or trespassing. Or getting drunk.]
Almost out of wires? Well then, the main event is about to start. I can tell I'll be rendered quite wordless in a moment, so let me provide an overture to the symphony of my screams.
[It becomes quickly apparent that the more he talks, the less he's addressing Andersen. He doesn't bother looking toward the crowd--he's not going to waste his energy on the strain of such a simple action--but projects his voice enough to be sure that they can hear him.]
A word of caution to my fellow competitors: take yesterday's trial as a warning. I was cursed and belittled for the measures I took to try and ensure my own survival, but I don't deny being what I am. I am a demon, and I lack the same human sensibilities that many of you possess. I threw the votes into a state of chaos because many of you were afraid. Call me the coward for my deception, but even lying I accepted my fate without fear or protest. I lost.
There are two murderers among you who continue to deceive you. They will not stop. And I can guarantee you will not find them if you carry on the way that you do. Each week will get harder. You've already begun to doubt one another. Cast aside your goodness. Your beliefs at a happy ending. These things will only kill you faster. The rules we've all been given leave no room for the weak of heart. How will you proceed when the ones you trust the most turn on you? When you’re among the last standing, when you’ve gotten so far, when there are no monsters to take the blame...that is when the real test begins.
And you will all suffer so exquisitely.
[He looks back to Andersen again. The grim, steady look in his eyes confirms that he’s ready.]
no subject
CW: EYE GORE AND OTHER UNPLEASANT THINGS
He doesn't scream. At least, not at first. It almost seems as if he's not going to. But that changes as the skin around the wires burns and blackens, his hair singeing. As, unseen, his organs break down. Suzaku doesn't even realize when the screams happen. He tries, he thinks, to bite them back, but they spill out anyway, unconscious and unbidden. It would be a mercy if he blacked out. If his heart simply stopped.
He is given no mercy, just as he has never given mercy.
His eyes are melting down his face, and then he's not screaming anymore.
The bones in his arms and legs snap under the strain, and he's laughing.
He laughs until he can't anymore, because there's nothing left inside of him. But maybe, he muses, as his thoughts fizzle and pop into nothing, that's fitting. Because there's never been anything inside of him, has there? He always knew that was his problem. Maybe if he could understand the things that humans feel, none of this ever would've been a problem from the start. For the second time, his fatal flaw was his downfall.
It doesn't matter. This second chance, these final moments, they weren't enough to help him understand.
It feels like it all takes a very long time, but in the end, as it was always meant to be, Suzaku is dead.]