TheMonotonePuppet
A Puppet Colored by Medication
- Joined
- Apr 24, 2023
- Messages
- 2,839
- Points
- 153
Your execution is pretty easy.
You find yourself running through a dank, filthy alley, wearing only a patient's gown. Something is chasing you, shadows just in the corner of your vision. Back and forth and up and down you flee, glancing behind you to see a bear-shaped silhouette with a knife. Trash cans line everywhere, filled to the brim. Sewers backed up with unknown nastiness upchuck rancid fluids onto the black mold-caked, roughly hewn stones. Buckets full of guano dump over the windows at random, splashing over you.
It is a disgusting maze characterized by cobblestone paths and the half-collapsed wrecks of industrial complexes. Finally, you find a tall steeple with stained glass windows. You peer through the transparent door, warmth and safety radiating out through the glass. Varnished wooden seating appears kind of uncomfortable, but you believe the churchgoers will be willing to let you shelter there for a moment. It looks safe and sturdy.
It is sanctuary!
Pushing open the doors, your expression turns crestfallen and fear-stricken. The doors were painted on the inside, the alluring vision of a church's protection pushed in by your hands. The church is a 2-Dimensional prop, with a bare concrete floor behind it.
A bear in proper vestments takes out a sniper rifle, parts clicking into place.
You scramble around desperately.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!!!
A shot grazes your forehead, just barely avoiding a kill shot. Four shots land in non-vital spots, one in your shoulder, 2 in your legs, and another in your arm.
Your face kisses the stone steps, and you tumble down painfully, stained pink by blood.
A shadow casts over your face, and hesitantly, not wanting to, you look up into the face of the bear with a knife. You wince in pain, the sunshine glaring behind the bear, but it clears up after a few bleary blinks. Dressed in a white lab coat, blue jeans, an untied mane of hair, open-toed sandals, and latex gloves, Medical Student Monokuma nervously offers a hand to cut out. Its demeanor, and most important of all, its dress code, does not fill you with confidence, but you accept it anyway.
Over the course of a few hours, it starts operating under your increasingly nervous eyes. Initially extremely understanding, a few near-fatal mistakes later strain your near-infinite kindness.
"NO! Don't do that! You are cutting too much of my muscle groups! Ack! NO! NO! STOP! You could cut a major artery artery! Right there please! No! Right there please!" With alarmingly haking paws, the bear places the scalpel finally on the right spot.
Your muffled screams, gagged by your shirt, fill the air. There is everything material-wise you could need except anesthesia, of course.
Tears flow down your face as you guide the robot plushie's surprisingly deft hands through the process of cutting into your back. And just praying to God that your unfinished education does not kill you either.
The blind leading the blind.
By some miracle, you live!
Wounds are stitched, gauze is applied.
Woozy from blood loss, vision blurring, you stumble to your feet. You could almost cry with relief... you see an exit from this toxic industrial wasteland.
Bile rushes into your mouth and you double over, hand over your mouth. Your cheeks turn a radioactive green color.
"No..." you whisper. "I'm so close."
Pink blood drips out your nose and ears, your head burning with a raging fever raised to high heavens by the pathogens crawling through your bloodstream. This infectious hellscape did you in.
