You had trouble sleeping all night. It might have been because the sun was still out, judging by the fact that the thread icon never changed. But it might
also
have been because you feared for your life. The night seemed even longer when the brightness outside distorted the passage of time.
What seemed like hours later, Faraday came in to wake you all up. "Guys, what are you doing? It's almost noon!"
You laughed in relief as your nerves unwound.
Around you, other judges awoke...except for one.
"hito," said Faraday, nudging the lump buried under the sleeping bag, "wake up. You have work to do. Are you--?" He pushed the lump hard.
"Wait a minute," he said. Then he yanked the sleeping bag open. Inside was a giant Rainbow Dash plushie.
Whatever happened to the real hito?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thousands of miles away...
hitogoroshi laughed as the train sped down the tracks through the British countryside. He couldn't believe he'd given those suckers the slip. Mafia took too much time away from his true love: impossible and tedious video games! Why spend his time judging and dressing up for red carpet ceremonies when he could be dying over and over again on the same level after grinding for hours only to restart the whole dungeon from the beginning?
In his backpack was a ticket to the International Roguelike Convention. Whoever had given him the anonymous gift was too kind.
At Fenchurch Street Station, he got off the train. He knew just how to get to the convention center by the Underground. Within another half hour, he was there.
"Funny," he thought, as he opened the doors. "This looks kind of rundown. I'd have thought a convention for something as fun and popular as roguelike videogames would have drawn a larger crowd."
He gasped. The center was completely empty, save for a table upon which were an assortment of cosmetics, a hair dryer, a tweezer, and a large pair of nail scissors.
Perhaps registration was upstairs. He took a few steps forward...
From up above, there was a whoosh of air, and then a shock and a clang as metal struck the floor. Hito stumbled forward, and fell upon a metal grate that was suddenly in front of him. He looked around. One foot to his left, to his right, and to the back of him, he was surrounded by metal grates, like a rat in a cage, with no room to so much as spread his arms. He tried shaking the bars in front of him. Then he tried kicking them. They didn't budge.
Through the grate, he saw the figure who had just appeared in the stairwell. "No," whispered hito, feeling sick.
"Nice to see you," said zoraster. He walked down the stairs elegantly, wearing a black cape, slicked-back hair, and a full face of make-up. "I'm sorry for the cage. don't mind the cage.
"But you don't play roguelikes," said hito. "This is legitimate. I heard about this online. How could--?"
Then he looked at the tickets in his hand carefully. For the first time, he noticed the title. Upon them was written "International Rougelike Convention."
"I needed something to lure you here." zoraster grabbed some blush from the table. "Come on! This
is
a
rougelike
convention. You might as well make the most of this."
"I refuse!" said hito. He clutched the grate. "You can't make me. I'm a manly man. I won't sink to the level of Faraday or of an unnamed other person at Ponybash who will deny all stories of something involving him and copious amounts of makeup. Let me go."
For a moment, zoraster's face twisted in rage, and hito shrank away. But then zoraster stopped, his hand on his chin. And then hito's heart stopped in his throat. zoraster was
smiling
.
"All right," said zoraster. "We don't have to do this."
He placed the blush back upon the table, and reached for something silver--the nail scissors. hito pressed himself against the back wall of his cage, shaking in terror.
"There are other things that are rougelike," said zoraster, strolling forward languidly, as though he was making the most of each step. He brandished the scissors in his hand like a butcher knife. "I can make your cheeks bright and red without the help of make-up. The rest of you will be red when we're done, and the floor too, but let's take it slow."
scummie was lynched Day 3.
Scummies, was killed Night 3.
