WEEK 5 TRIAL

[foundationmods]

It was noon on Saturday.

No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing...the moment the chimes rang out through the hall, they felt a change.

The world...began to expand, as they felt themselves leaving the world they were on, and towards another, much larger world...🗈

...As always, the courtroom was there - along with the audience, watching, waiting for the entertainment before them.

The Witch - Nirrti - was there, sitting in the most important place, watching all of them with a sharp, cruel gaze, the smile on her face bright once again.

Watanuki was also there, but he merely lounged in the back behind them, smoking a kiseru pipe in silence.
...It seemed as if he was content to watch - that he had to watch - as part of the rules of the game.

There was no music to be heard, but... perhaps on another plane, in another place, someone else heard music as they gazed upon the proceedings.

Again, their forms had changed - perhaps into something different than last time, but...still a change, no matter how dramatic or inconsequential it was.

...There was a deep silence in the room, one that no one wanted to break. It was the faint tension in the air, like the moments before a race or a competition begins.

The Truth of this case hung in the air, just out of reach.
Like a hanging dagger over their heads, ready to strike...
...Just when would it fall?
Should it fall at all?
Yet, it had to.

For the sake of the dead...and the sake of them all.

Comments

FANTASY RETELLING - 1/ 2

[lutea]

A robot was bumbling around just before midnight, much like how he always did.
Though he didn’t strictly sleep, he should need to recharge sometimes.
But being out so late...would soon be his downfall.

With a start, he noticed that he was walking towards a single, burning fire floating in the air.
The fire itself...was pitch black.
And though he panicked and tried to get off of the path...he was unable to.
Like being on a rail back in his home world, unable to move anywhere else…

Step by step, he came closer to Her.
Just like the one in his world, a being of the purest malice…

With a smile, she bid him to stop - and giggled.

“Hello, Wheatley.”

Wheatley nervously looked around, at everything except her.
He was constrained - and as he spoke, he tugged at them.
"Erm, hello?
...Did you- Ah- Need anything?
'Coz I happened to be heading off to recharge and would really like to go to bed as soon as I-"

She laughed, stopping what he was saying easily.

“Yes, I do need something. Something that involves you, in fact.”

The light of Wheatley's optic narrowed to a pinprick.
"OH! Alright! Uh… Can you make this quick? I mean unless this is the part where you kill me, and if it is… Can we just skip that part and do some other mystery for once? Like stealing something valuable, that makes a good mystery…Right?"
He glanced up at her, quizzically - his single optic blinking in what had to be hopefulness.
After all, it was a perfectly logical question in his mind.

The Witch...blinked at him, and then laughed.
She laughed long, and loud.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she spoke happily.

“Aaah...I think I see why Kimihiro chose you after all.
...You are quite amusing.”

He whimpered as she laughed, feeling all his hopes of staying alive crashing to the ground. "No… nonono! You don't have to do this! Really! We can work this out some other way!"
..Yet, he struggled harder - as if his body knew better than he did the most likely outcome of this situation.
Perhaps...it was merely whatever survival instinct he had.
Had his programmers placed that into him?
They had certainly given him the capacity to feel pain.

“No, we really cannot.
...Rejoice, Wheatley.
You’ll be finally fulfilling your purpose here.”

And with that, she let him loose.

The moment she let him free - just for a moment, just to cast another spell - Wheatley ran.
He didn’t care where he ran, just so long as it was away from Her.
After all, she would kill him if he stayed, and didn’t get away…

But his mistake was believing he could get away in the first place.
The mansion….was akin to her belly, a place where no morsel or person could ever escape…

As he ran, the scenery around him began to look familiar again.
Of course, he didn’t stop to think about it - until he almost ran back into the Witch.

“Welcome back, Wheatley. *Cackle.*”

Blinking in horror, the robot attempted to scream - before he was suddenly lifted in the air and thrown into the sauna as it’s door swung open of its own volition.

When he was inside, it shut and locked - leaving just the witch outside to ponder what to do next.

Of course, Wheatley was not idle.
In a panic, he pounded on the door frantically, the dull sounds of metal against wood resounding in the halls.
"Hello?!
ANYONE?!?
SOMEBODY GET ME OUT OF HERE!
PLEASE!!"

Banging, screaming, tugging on the inside handle - he did them as much as he could, for as loud as his speakers could handle.
...Yet, it was useless.
No one could hear him except Her, and She didn’t care.
In fact, she was still contemplating what to do.

Now what….She could just leave him in there, but it wasn’t entirely likely that Wheatley would just die from the heat and the moisture.
Humans were crafty and often waterproofed their electronics, after all.
Though she doubted they would bother on a stupid AI like him.

No, she should let her newest Furniture stretch his legs, so to speak.
After all, he was bound to enjoy the exercise.

“...Come, Caim.”

With that single call...she flung out her arms, allowing a small mote of red light to flow from her hands to just in front of her.
Within that light, a shape appeared...and began to grow, stretching the very boundaries of it…
Soon, it was very large, and with a great motion -
Wings as black as night flared out, as the demon appeared.

“Furniture Caim, at your service.”

“Hello, Caim. ...I know this might be a hassle for you, and I apologize, but I figured you would like the exercise.”

The Witch smiled at her Furniture, in a gentle way.
One could almost call it pleasant, if she wasn’t about to command him to end someone’s life.

“...Anyway. My dear Furniture, the victim for tonight is inside the sauna. Please feel free to dispose of him however you wish - ah, but please make it one that the humans won’t complain about, won’t you~? *cackle cackle cackle*”

The demon heartlessly nodded in response to her request.
And, in an instant…
He plucked out a single feather from one of his wings.
That feather began to glow in a baleful, red light…
...and transformed into a beautiful, gleaming sword with a blade as black as the feather it had once been.

Wheatley, of course, backed away.
What else could he do?
He was not a robot built for combat, like Gebura.
"Oh no.
Oh no nonono!!"
But...his back hit against the wall, nearly tripping over the benches inside in his haste to get away.

And…
...Like how a machine does its tasks, with little effort and little mind…
Caim lunged forward, striking out with his sword towards Wheatley’s body.
In a flash, he had punctured the robot over and over again, each hit almost perfectly beautiful in it’s efficiency.

And, of course, damage translated as pain to the robot.
He cried out in pain, weakly grabbing at his wounds where he could, but…
Essential parts had been hit, and his body was beginning to fail.
The damage was still easily fixable - for someone at the Foundation, perhaps.
But in this mansion...it was a death sentence.

Meanwhile, Caim frowned slightly.
Though he was indifferent to the robot’s suffering, that didn’t mean he was deaf.
And as he did his work, those shrill screams…
Were utterly, intensely annoying.
They had to be stopped as soon as possible.

Grabbing the sides of Wheatley’s head, he used only a little strength.
Just a little.
And yet, there was a horrible screech of metal as Wheatley’s core was ripped from his body, which only made his unfortunate victim scream louder.

Such a headache…
Grabbing his pitch black blade, he stabbed the core itself.

CRUNCH.

That single strike...had damaged his speakers.
No, not only that.
It had also damaged more essential parts inside of him.
He could no longer function properly.
And so, the blue light of his eye...went out like a flame being blown out.
Yet, perhaps there was something salvageable inside…
...Either way, the demon didn’t care.
The hated screaming had stopped, just as he had wanted.

2/ 2

[lutea]

“...Caim.”

The demon spun around, to see Nirrti watching him from the doorway.

“Though I appreciate what you did...unfortunately, you’ll have to add something so the humans don’t complain that this was an unfair Mystery.”

He simply nodded quietly in response to her command.

Suddenly, out of the air...a wooden board appeared, stuffed full of sharp, terrible knives.
They were spaced so to be compliant with his sword strikes on the body.

The Witch nodded, happy that he was taking this so well.
“Yes, I think that should be good enough.”

She paused, staring at the robot in Caim’s hands.
“Though he isn’t yet dead…
Ah, I know. Caim, would you like to go and choose another victim tonight?”

There was no indication that the demon cared when he heard that - merely staring at her silently.
Then, he turned on his heel - and out of the sauna to find his next victim.

“Good boy.”
The Witch grinned, then vanished - content to merely watch what her furniture would do.
Who would he pick?
She was sure...it would be an entertaining show to watch, no matter what.

...It didn’t take long for his victim to wake.
In a certain room, Sherlock awoke in a strange bed, a familiar form next to him.
The effects of the night’s revelry was still on him, but -
If he was awake on this night, then he knew that he had been chosen.
This thought alone...made his spinning head settle.

He could not put his companion in danger.
If they were in the same room, the chances of them both dying were much greater.
Quietly, he slipped out of his bed, giving a regretful look towards the still sleeping form before grabbing his cane and slipping on his shoes.
Exiting the room, he returned to his own - making his bed up to look like someone was sleeping inside of it before jumping into the closet.

An Ambush was the only smart decision.
Heart pounding, he waited -
And then heard the sound of glass shattering, along with a loud THUMP.
Peeking through a slit in the closet door, he saw…
Wheatley, still and quiet.

...He knew that this was bait.
If he went to the robot’s side….
He would most likely be caught in a trap.

...But he would not -could not - leave him behind.
And to flee would only prolong this encounter.
So there was only one option.
Gripping his cane, he stepped out of the door, with eyes free of fear.
After all, he has faced down countless villains and phantasmals.
He would not retreat from his opponent, even when he knew it was a losing battle.

Not waiting for the demon to attack, he took the first strike.
Holding onto the bottom of his cane, he swung it so that it would hook behind the demon’s ankle, if all went well.

….However, he was fighting against a demon.
And a demon is also experienced in a fight, when it comes down to it.
Dodging it effortlessly, Caim ran two fingertips along his blade.

Wherever they touched, sparks rose as he concentrated his magic, yelling out-

“Raitei Shourai!!”

A burst of electricity suddenly rose from his blade.
It was beautiful, and yet…
It lunged out towards the detective, hitting him fiercely.

A normal man would have instantly been knocked out, or at least down.
But instead, Sherlock merely cried out - and staggered back for a moment before lunging forward.
Even if his opponent could use magic…
Even if the demon had the advantage, being able to attack from a longer distance than he could…
He refused to die without making Caim work for it.

Closing the gap, he tossed aside his cane to grab the demon by the collar - but it was an opening Caim had been waiting for.
Much like Sherlock, he too was best at close combat fighting styles, and lashed out with his legs, aiming for vital areas.

Together, they fought - dodging strikes and lashing out, both in different styles, yet…
If someone had been able to watch it, it would have seemed beautiful, if frantic.
Frantic for that for one person, it was a fight for his life…
...And for the other, a mere chore that he had to do for his summoner.

With a dual clash, the two men are sent staggering back - and both of them stooped to pick up their weapons, staring at each other tensely.
...This….was it.
The next exchange...would determine everything.

No one would have blamed Sherlock for faltering, in that moment.
Or for trembling.
Yet, he did neither.
‘
Instead...he calmly, without hesitation...faced the end.

Both of them rushed forward -

And the cane…fell to the ground.
The reason it had...was merely because the hands holding it could do that no longer.
After all…
Caim’s sword...was piercing his chest...right through his heart.

The detective coughed...and died.
And once he had determined his opponent had stopped moving…
The demon withdrew his blade, and let the body fall.

...Though everything was now over, Caim still felt the presence of the Witch nearby.
Indeed, she soon appeared out of the air - hovering over the body of the detective with an unsatisfied look on her face.

No, this wasn’t right.
The pieces would just complain again, wouldn’t they?
Sighing, she went over to Caim, with an apologetic look on her face.

“...I think it might be best if we made it so that they ‘died’ in the same area.
I know it’s a hassle, but…
I’ll bring him back, and you can knock him out and take him to the Sauna.”

Saying that, she turned to the body laying on the carpet, and began to recite, in a sing song chant -

“Come, remember. What kind of misfortune did you suffer?”

And as she chanted…
...death itself...turned back.

Blood flowed back into his wounds from the carpet, and his wounds from Caim closed up.
Even the clothing on his back stitched itself back up, and for a moment, he was perfectly still…
Before, with a gasp, he returned back to life - reflexively grabbing for the cane he had dropped when he was run through.

...Of course, such a thing was to be expected.
The Witch...was the Witch of Misfortune.
Death was nothing more than a Misfortune that she could control.
...However, it meant that none of her prey...could ever get away from her once she laid her eyes on them...

“Damn it…”
The detective groaned as he stared up at the pair - one with a smile on her face, the other looking at him impassively.
There was...no escape from this.
Silently, he let his cane go - making no move to try to run, but narrowing his eyes at them both before he spoke for the last time.

“Do what you will.”

Without hesitation, without remorse, Caim did what he had been commanded to do.
His foot lashed out quickly -
And struck Holmes on his head, instantly knocking him out.
The man fell back to the carpet, blood oozing from the gash that had been opened in his head...

Silently, Caim dragged the unconscious man up the stairs, his black wings flapping as he did so.
Up and up to the place where the detective would die yet again…
The steam welcomed them both back easily, and he casually placed Sherlock on top of the mangled remains of the body.

Then, making the plank float in the air with magic, he let it get the right height...and then let it drop.

Thud-sklortch.

The noise...was horrible.
It was a noise only a demon could enjoy…
...And one made worse by the wheezes and groans of the man trapped under it all.

Sherlock had not died instantly.
Servants, of course, were made of much stronger stuff.
And as he writhed like a bug to a pin, Caim...merely turned away, going back down to retrieve the head of the malfunctioning robot.

...Yet, something about the scene...made the Witch herself appear.
Quietly, she gazed down at Sherlock with something like Pity…

“...I changed my mind.
...I will let you die near your master, Ruler.”

Suddenly, for Sherlock, the pressure was gone - replaced by a blinding pain on his right shoulder.

The Witch, not caring for the wounds...had carelessly moved him, and caused his right arm to be severed at the shoulder…

And all at once, he was suddenly in the hallway, against a wall.
Shock quickly overtook him, and he slid down it - ending only when he hit the ground, unaware that he had even been taken close to where he originally started.

Yet, even in this state, he still managed to get out one last thing.
With his left hand...he tried to write who did this.
But his mind was so muddled…
...What he left behind made no sense at all.

His hand lost its strength, along with the rest of the feeling in his body…
And soon…
...He was no longer alive.

Meanwhile, Caim had gotten what he went for and returned back to the Sauna.
If he was surprised when he only saw the arm inside of the room, his face didn’t show it.
Then again, knowing his Master, she was most likely having fun with the Servant in her own way.
Instead, he made the core of the robot float in the air...and then slowly surrounded it with sea water.

Inside of the water, Wheatley experienced his last few moments of life.
From the cuts that Caim had made earlier, liquid poured in...and began to corrode his most important parts…
For a robot, being doused in water was most definitely akin to death.
And for Wheatley, he had no backup here to restore himself on.
Thus, he would truly drown...and never return again…

Unable to speak anymore, he could only watch as the small globe of sea embraced him…
...and ended this horrible night.
Soon...he, much like his human counterpart, was gone.

Caim showed no pity.
Silently, he took out the drowned sphere...and placed it next to the now bloody remnants of his body.
Leaving the arm behind him, he turned on his heel and walked out of the sauna door, shutting it closed.

...And then, two bodies quietly waited.
They waited for the morning to come...and for them to be found.
For their deaths to be noticed….
...and for their killer to be punished.

THE WITCH

[lutea]

[As the retelling fades, she wastes no time in grinning at all of them before letting out a cackle.]

I gave you a longer tale this time, *cackle cackle*!! Did you like seeing their valiant and not so valiant last staaaaaands? Come, come now, claim that I was the one who did this!

After all, none of you really want to blaaaaaaaaame each other, right? You can all stay happy friends and lick your wounds together!!

Ah, but I won't take it easy on you today just because you lost one of your fiiiiiighters!! No, I'll take this opportunity to happily crush you aaaalll without a second thoooooooooought!!

Ehehe, Hyahaha, Kyaaaahahahahaha!!

Let's begin, let's begiiiiiin! Submit to me, or find a human culprit in six hours!

Can you do it without the great detective holding your haaaaaaaaand and helping you find the right answeeeeeeeeeeer?! I don't think any of you can, no, not at aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalll!!

So tell me, tell me tell me tell me -

Was Sherlock and Wheatley's Deaths a Mystery, or a Fantasy?

????

[foundationmods]

Code for blue truth:

<font color=#000099><b>TEXTHERE</b></font>

As a reminder, Blue Truth is meant for theorycrafting - so while you can ask for information normally, Blue Truth is meant as a counterattack against the witch.

Going up against her and getting hit multiple times will require you to step away, though there's no imposed time limit. We just ask that you have your character back off.

[goldenmaniac]

Nirrti, I have a question: was Wheatley's core body returned to the mansion by you or your servants? So that we could find it and make this a fair mystery? like you said in the retelling?

It'd be pretty confusing if we spent all day arguing if Wheatley was even dead at all without it, right?

Re: THE WITCH

[oceanicbutterfly]

[Of course it goes without saying that Nirrti is pretty.]

[keydomhearts]

[ Hey gurl hey. He'll wiggle his fingers at her ]

Hey, Nirrti? Do you mind if I ask you something?

[respring]

Nirrti-san, a question. Even without most of his Servant abilities, did Holmes-san still have some durability beyond a normal human?

[ just checking. if he did, then Takumi might be right about the killer taking his arm to try and make him bleed out ]

[keydomhearts]

[ Here's Sora, with his arms crossed and tapping his foot. ]

I spoke to Watanuki yesterday. He did see Sherlock last night. He used a Command Seal to call Sherlock to his side because he felt the pain Sherlock was in. He passed out due to the pain, and someone dragged him back to his room.

[youkaiwatch]

That probably explains why there were no footprints despite how much he was bleeding.

[anonnomnomnom]

What, again? But in reverse this time... I thought Watanuki would have a better handle on the magic by now.

[aleph_armed]

[Gebura's form this time is similar to what it was during the previous trial, with one notable exception: the helmet upon her head has begun to open up slightly, exposing a glowing red eye, tracing a trail of light behind it whenever she moves. The stakes also stand behind her, each with their own suit and each with a red armband emblazoned with a G.]

...Me and Sora examined Sherlock's room. For first impressions, Sora smelled a chemical that made him sleepy as soon as we entered the room. The room itself was trashed, and the window had something thrown through it, and was open. Sherlock's screaming box was also on the floor, opened and empty.

[keydomhearts]

I couldn't find the source of the smell! It was all over in the room, but not in the bathroom.

[cryosurgeon]

[Sherlock tried to protect him. That's the only thing he believes about that mockery of the man's death.

Yet the doctor makes no outward sign of how seeing that last regretful look affects him. He is stone, steel, ice.

This week, Erhard's appearance is... very different, but maybe more terrifying than the plague doctor garb. A bodysuit much like his customary one wraps him from neck to feet, but it's mourning black. Instead of a lab coat, a familiar Inverness coat hangs from his shoulders, though this one is black with crimson stitching to hold the splits loosely together. The man inside the clothing is little more than a revenant, gaunt and gray-skinned. Blood paints lines from his nose, ears, mouth, eyes, and the raw, heart-shaped hole piercing clear through his torso and out the back, the skin and fabric held back with small silver pins as if he's been summoned in the middle of being dissected.

His eyes... they're black pools, bereft of even a corneal reflection. Just empty voids.]

[fullbodied]

Erhard...

[respring]

[ Sakura is dressed up to the nines today. Fancy. ]

I searched the beach yesterday. A single knife washed up on the shore. After that, I looked in the Master Bedroom...most of the knives were missing, of course, but all of the weapons were knocked on the floor, as well.

[fullbodied]

[oh... this is appropos of nothing so she just whispers it to Sakura]

I like your outfit.

[anonnomnomnom]

[Anon's a little distracted, and for good reason.

It looks like whatever weird melty metamorphosis his pompom form has been going through for the last couple of weeks has completed itself, and instead of the customary near-circular bulk, it's Anon himself on the courtroom floor. He's draped in the long fur pennants of his previous shape, which seem to still be growing from his back and shoulders and everywhere, long ribbons of black and white intermingling and trailing behind him like a fur coat. Familiar protrusions of bone flower out of his shoulders, making approaching him from the side a bit of a hazard -- but at least the front is free.

The skeletal ram-like head and all its horns sits atop his bright pink hair this time, like a strange and macabre helmet with an odd light in the eyesockets. And down his back, trailing and a little more tattered than before but still somehow flightworthy, are the black bat-like wings from the other form.

He's just staring at his hands and looking a little baffled.]

Why...

[keydomhearts]

[ You're a butterfly, anon. or a moth ]

Huh? Why what?

[ Also just going to poke at one of the horns ]

[goldenmaniac]

[Takumi still has his blue aura like usual, the data creeping up his legs and arms. Only now it's in his eyes as well, his pupils gone, now just a sea of shifting electric blue. Honestly, the shade was the same it had always been, just now with an almost doll-like air.]

First things first: I managed to... to hook AIBA up to Wheatley's core in the sauna. His consciousness was already destroyed, but I was able to access some files of what happened last night. The first one was audio of what sounded like him being thrown through a window while screaming. proving he was still aware at that point. I heard Sherlock call out to him. and a second voice as well. But everything was too distorted by that point I couldn't tell a gender, let alone who it was. Could have been Sherlock both times- they said 'simple trap'.

The second file was a video... it showed Wheatley being thrown into the sea. Whoever did this... they should know that he was still alive when they threw him away like trash, but the video was already showing errors, so he was probably already badly damaged... I have no idea how his core made it back here, but it was covered in sea salt and pretty beat up.

I also went to the broiler. It was off but still had some heat coming off it and ash inside. I also found a bit of cloth. Plaid, with a little blood on it. Kinda felt like pajamas or underwear? Looks like it flew out while the rest was burning.

Lastly: I checked Sherlock's body. The stabs in his back definately had parts of Wheatley's body in them and looked like he was pressed down into them. His broken ribs point to that too.

I also checked the kitchen. All the kitchen knives were missing.

[That sure was a lot, and when he's done Takumi sits, worn down]

[fullbodied]

[she puts a hand on his shoulder.

we got this.]

[youkaiwatch]

[ Emi looks like this today, and is indeed floating a foot or so above the floor on a black cloud. She doesn't actually have any recollection of looking like this before since she wasn't exactly herself at the time, but she can infer what it is. ] I examined Mr. Holmes's body. He had many knife wounds on the front side of his torso -- double sided knives like the weapons from the master bedroom, not like kitchen knives -- and, like Takumi-kun said, metal debris embedded in his back. He also had a gash on his forehead. His right arm was missing -- it was a clean cut, but looked a little like it was yanked off by being pulled away. It looked from the blood at the scene like he'd hit his back against the wall and slid down. The scene didn't seem to be disturbed at all, and there weren't any footprints or any other sign that someone else had been there. It's true that there appeared to be a message written on the wall behind him, or at least a part of one -- it looks like a lowercase "t a" drawn upside down from behind, and then trailed off after that. He did have blood on the tip of his index finger like he'd written it himself.

[fullbodied]

... T-a...?

He was trying to write something?

Catherding Attempt

[keydomhearts]

I know it's all confusing, but I'm sure if we put our heads together we can figure it out!

[ Friendship speech \o/ ]

Gebura and Emi can help fill out the gaps I'm missing! What it sounds like is someone laid a trap for Sherlock. They threw Wheatley through the window and used a knock-out gas to knock out Sherlock. This might be why he wound up getting a gash on his head.

Then he was dragged out of the window, all the way back through the mansion to the second floor. I don't know how long knock out gas works, but the sauna probably made him sweat out the effects?

[ Does it work like that??? ]

He was stabbed all over. Someone else will have to describe the board and the scene of the sauna better.

Watanuki felt the pain through their link, and used a command seal to summon Sherlock to him. He was hoping Sherlock could help him with the pain. That's how Sherlock appeared in the hall. The pain was too much for Watanuki to bear and he eventually passes out, but he tried really hard to stay awake.

Someone moved Watanuki back to his room and into his bed.

Also at some point, Wheatley's core was tossed into the sea, but his body was still in the sauna.

[ does that sound right? ]

Re: Catherding Attempt

[goldenmaniac]

Sherlock was also crushed against Wheatley's body. Though I can't say if they were crushed together or Wheatley's body was already destroyed at that point.

I think the retelling might be right about one thing: killing Wheatley might have been harder then they expected so they went for another option.

[incrediblystressedout]

[Late toplevel whoops. Joey is here and back in a ballet costume. It is, in fact, the same frilly feathered dress she had on week 2, only white, rather than black. She's feeling...empty now. So many people are dead for reasons that had nothing to to with them. Speaking of week 2, though...]

...hey, guys, something I just realized. Wheatley and Holmes were both killed with a board with knives in it, or at least injured with that. Wheatley used a big smashy spike plate for his blue truth finale back during the Watanuki trial. Do you think the killer was trying for irony, or something?

[cryosurgeon]

... or Wheatley was trying to kill someone and was caught in his own trap.

[fullbodied]

We know two things:

Wheatley intended to kill, and Sherlock wrote the name of his killer on the wall. Or attempted to.

I... guess that could point two me, since my last name, but Sherlock never once called me that, and Ann is a lot easier to write than Takamaki.

It also points to Takumi.

[goldenmaniac]

[Yeah he's been waiting for this]

My name is the most obvious, yeah. But I can say right here and now: I had nothing to do with either of their deaths.

Catherd 2.0

[keydomhearts]

Okay, so let's talk about what we know for sure.

We know that the killer never tricked anyone to help. We know that Wheatley didn't intend to kill Sherlock and that his programming wasn't messed with. We also know for a fact that he's behind the spike trap. We also know that Wheatley was targeting someone.

We still don't know about the gas, but it could have come from the goats. But it wasn't sprayed inside and it wasn't in Wheatley's core. We also know Sherlock wasn't part of it.

So how does that fit in with everything else?

[incrediblystressedout]

So Wheatley was trying to kill someone who wasn't Sherlock. That person is probably the culprit since as far as we know, only three people plus Watanuki were awake - Wheatley, Sherlock, and the culprit.

HEY ANON HEY let's ask you some things

[keydomhearts]

[ Okay so he'll nudge Anon. ]

Okay, I'm just going to ask straight up. Was Wheatley targeting you last night?

[anonnomnomnom]

[Okay, you know what? He's straight up going to slowclap in Sora's face.]

You know, I wondered how long all of you would keep circling around and around and around, never making the proper connections. If I had to watch you all any longer I think I'd just execute myself.

[His voice is extremely cold and flat.]

This is my case, and I refuse to let anyone else take credit for it. I killed both Wheatley and Sherlock.

VERDICT

[lutea]

[At Joey's blue, she merely closes her eyes...and nods.

All of the red truth spikes or blue truths fade, and there is a deep, deep silence.

Nirrti herself...seems like something in her is wavering. Something has just come undone, and she steels herself before continuing.]

...I accept your blue truth. Anon is the Culprit.

[At the sound of that red - someone suddenly appears in the courtroom with them, as Anon begins to float upwards.

...it's Natsuno. Or, the piece-Natsuno, staring blankly at the rest of them like an empty doll.]

...You have won your wish, Anon. At your death...I will switch you with Natsuno, and he will become Kimihiro's piece.

That was the wish you bought with Sherlock's death...a wish to save someone you care for at the expense of...yourself....

[She's shaking, very nearly breaking down before shaking her head and taking in a deep breath.]

You must be punished. You must die, for the trade to work, just as we agreed. So...

...If any of you would like to execute him, merely ask. Or else...I will.

[cryosurgeon]

I think I've earned that right, Nirrti. More than anyone else here.

EXECUTION: FROM HIPPOCRATIC OATH TO HAMMURABI'S CODE

[cryosurgeon]

[The first thing that appears is a massive pinboard. At the top of it is pinned a banner in bold red letters:

GROSS ANATOMY STUDY: INFERNUS

Erhard steps forward, the crimson seams on his Inverness coat unraveling, the sections writhing and snapping as if in a strong wind.]

Let's begin the operation.

[There's still no inflection, no emotion at all.

Blood bubbles up in the hole tunneling through his chest and back, erupting out of both ends in dozens of bulbous-ended streamers. They rise up, the bulbs exploding in showers of blood droplets to reveal surgical instruments: scalpels, rongeurs, clamps, bone saws... all the tools of Erhard's trade, tools meant to heal, now turned to violence. More of the streamers wrap around the infernal's limbs and yank him into a floating, prone position, holding him spread-eagled as Erhard closes the gap further, those empty pits where his eyes should be staring unblinking at his subject.

The rib spreader comes down first, slamming into Anon's chest and yanking it open with a sickening wet crack. Tentacles of blood form pincers that grasp organs and pull. Clamps pinch. Blades slice. First come the intestines, fixed to the pinboard with scalpels and dissection pins in long, bloody ropes. Then stomach, blood vessels, lungs, all left on display by sharpness jammed through them into the board with loud sounds almost like gunshots.

But Anon won't die so quickly. Erhard's blood tendrils intrude the spaces left, forcing the monster's cells to struggle onward, a horrible parody of life support. Anon gets to watch bits of himself be taken and destroyed, and whether he screams, laughs, or remains silent, it makes no difference to his executioner.

He chooses to laugh. It's a sharp, bright, unending cackle -- even when it rises to the timbre of a scream it keeps its cadence, wild and breathless and unstoppable.

Erhard's face is an impassive monochrome mask, save for the blood.

The last organ to be pulled out of the hollowed out torso is Anon's beating heart. Erhard holds out his hands, a thick, black book appearing open on his upturned palms. It looks like Gray's Anatomy, but... twisted, as if it's become the Necronomicon. A scalpel cuts the heart free, lowering it to rest on the seam between the open pages.

And Erhard slams the book shut, crushing the heart in a spray of blood that strikes his face and drips slowly downward.]

Operation complete.

Let this disease pass from this world.

[The tentacles withdraw from Anon's corpse, and Erhard turns and walks away from it and all the survivors.]

[chaoscontrol]

[Shadow seems... distressed. But it's not turned toward the execution itself. Instead, he turns a somewhat panicked gaze toward Watanuki]

EXTRA - THE DAY THE WITCH BEGAN TO BREAK

[lutea]

[After the execution, as reality begins to fade...The new blades of misfortune appear, sharp and cruel scalpels made of that same black flame...

...But this time, Watanuki is not their target.

There's a strange look in the Witch's eyes as she realizes, in horror...

...That this execution was not enough. That something inside of her has changed, something she can't undo, and it's...

...it's...

So with a harsh yank of her hand, she sends one of the flames careening into her, and even though at first, she doesn't make a noise...

...she begins to moan.]

...Wh....y....?

[The horrible cracking noises can be heard from her body - as she chose Anon's death to take on first - but she just groans and holds herself, making louder and louder pained noises.]

...It...Hurts... Why does it huuuuuuuurt....I don't feel anything anymore, I'm not supposed to, why does it -

[Tears appear in her eyes, and she finally screams, staggering back and collapsing to her knees.]

Ah...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh, it hurts so badly I can't staaaaaaand it, ah, agh, aghouuugh...No, no, I'm not - I am....the Witch, right? I can't be feeling pain from this, or anything else, I can't, I can't-

[she begins to claw at her own face, fingernails leaving black trails in their wake.]

Stop it....! Stop it stop it stop iiiiiit!! Stop this pain, I don't want to feel it, no, please, please!! I DON'T WANT TO FEEL THIS PAIN!!

[Frantically, she causes the second scalpel to lance through her, but...]

It won't stop! Why?! Why won't it Stooooooooooop?! I'm not - A Witch doesn't feel pain, she doesn't feel anything like thiiiiiis, no, ah, nonononono STOP`

[Again, she raises her hand, tears streaming down her shredded face, to have the last and final misfortune crash into her.

In a desperate attempt to stop the pain, to remind her of what she really is.

To regain control over a part of her that has just been unlocked.]

[goldenmaniac]

Nirrti, no!

[Can that last misfortune be prevented, or is it too late?