Tommy finds himself stuck in a school with 19 other students, forced into a killing game by the mysterious mastermind. A new era of SMPronpa commences, giving DSMP-era MCYT fans a taste of that one forbidden fanfic.
CCs INCLUDED: Tommyinnit, Wilburs...
TW: SH description, inbox me if it's a trigger and you need to know which part of this chapter to avoid reading. I'll reply straight away :)
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A loud creak echoed through Techno's small room as Callahan opened the old, rusty box he was holding. He tilted it forward, allowing tons of files, papers, and random items to fall out and crash onto the ground in front of the three boys. Tubbo jumped at the loud, crashing impact.
Confused, the three walked forward and sat down on the floor in front of the pile, observing all of the fallen things. On the floor were scattered papers, a notebook, a blue and pink pen and some images Callahan had found of them, presumably taken somewhere before their memories blanked.
Callahan walked forward, grabbing a candle and some matches off of one of Techno's drawers. He backed away from the wall as he did so, not wanting to be in a close vicinity of the mass number of weapons covering it. Before he sat down, he grabbed a blanket off of techno's bed and covered himself. It was long enough for the others to huddle up into as well.
One of the worst parts of being stuck in the building was the constantly freezing temperature. Blankets were scattered on the ground all over the halls, from where students had left them after sitting. You often found students in their friends clothes, finding them warmer than the ones they were provided with. He wished he got a sweater as a gift like Tommy.
"I found these around the place and put them into a box, they might be helpful," Callahan explained with his hands, translated slightly broken by Tommy. He barely bothered to speak most times, just trying to indicate what he felt via body language or pointing. Unfortunately, they normally never understood him.
And as his talent was being the 'Ultimate Secret Keeper', he ended up keeping most of his thoughts to himself. And his words. And everything about him. He didn't know why he abided by that talent, he felt like... he had no real deep desire to be mysterious, or keep things to himself. But he did.
Part of him felt like he knew who the mastermind was already due to it. He had so much time to himself that he spent thinking, and putting evidence together, and making up scenarios and deciding which ones more likely. Deciphering what people mean through their words. How they're doing. What they'll do.
He felt like a damn better detective than Tommy, who seemed far more worried on friendships. But who cares about friends when they'll all fucking die if you don't use your talent?
Techno and Tubbo looked at the scattered papers. One was a record of what Schlatt had been doing each night, one was a record of all of Gure-ga's interactions with the students, one was a record of who killed who and what their motive was, and who was most likely to be killed next (Tommy tried to ignore that it was Tubbo-- he didn't want to feel guilty again).
