haunted

thousand knock death

haunted

chapter two: thousand knock death

It was all happening so fast, Leon didn't have much time to process what was going on around him. The bear wasn't seriously going to kill him, right? He had no choice! Fucking Maizono had tried to kill him first, what was he supposed to do?! Let her kill him? Hell no! Any of them would have done the exact same thing!

Right?

Something clamped itself around his neck, and suddenly Leon was being dragged.

Come on, come on, this isn't FAIR! I didn't have a CHOICE! SHE WAS GONNA KILL ME!

Leon hit the ground, the collar dragging him down a long hallway. He tried to grip the ground beneath him – it was smooth and he shoes weren't giving him any traction to stop it. Worse still, the collar was choking him as it dragged him, and no matter how hard to tugged, it wouldn't budge. "SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! HELP ME!"

The collar pulled him into a room with lots of bright lights, and it took Leon a moment to recognize the motif on the walls. It looked like the inside of a baseball stadium. He felt his heart sink. What the hell is this?! Leon was yanked to his feet and his body slammed into a pole – seconds later, thick iron bands bound him.

Leon didn't like anything he saw. The remaining twelve students were watching him from behind some sort of chain link fence. The teddy bear from Hell was making them watch – he was an example, just like the model had been. He was showing them what would happen to the next one who did it. None of them looked happy to be there, but it was hard to say why. Did they pity him? Did they hate him?

But that wasn't what scared him the most. It was the pitching machine in front of him. He knew the device well, even if hadn't used one in years. Not since he was little and his dad took him to the batting cages – that was how they first learned he was good at baseball. But even without using one for years, he knew enough about them to realize he was in trouble. These machines were able to shoot balls at well over 100 kilometers per hour if you set them up for it – that was why it was so important to wear batting helmets in the cages. A hit on the head from one of these things or even a really good pitcher could kill. His heart began to pound in his chest, and he could feel sweat dripping down his brow.

Monokuma appeared in the cage, holding a baseball bat and wearing a little baseball uniform. This was all some kind of sick game to the evil bear, and he was having fun at his expense. This wasn't an execution, this was a circus, and he was nothing but the clown in the center ring. And for what? For being forced to play a game none of them wanted to play?

The machine began to fire. Leon cried out with the first several hits – kidney, stomach, center of the chest. They hurt like hell. Sure he'd been hit by a wild pitch or two before, but never one after another like this, never from this close, never on purpose. He clenched his eyes shut, too scared to watch. He cried out with each hit, but as bruise after bruise crushed his flesh, it slowly dawned on him that the bear wasn't trying to kill him . . . right away.

This wasn't an execution – this was torture.

Suddenly, the pitching machine began to spin around him, and the baseballs started to pelt him like a horizontal downpour from all sides. He could feel his body being crushed and broken, he was bruised and bleeding and the pain was excruciating. But the balls weren't hitting his head. Every other inch of him was being beaten like a dusty rug, but not his skull.

Because a blow to the head might kill him or knock him out.

And that wouldn't be very fun for the teddy bear, now would it?