”What’s your favorite scary movie?”

The robotic voice, altered by using technology but no less threatening haunted your nightmares. You survived the first encounter of this Ghostface killer, a murderer with a steak knife, a mask, and a dream.

Your friends were not so lucky. Shoko had barely made it out, already in critical condition and put into a medically induced coma, you, Geto, and Nanami had made it out relatively unscathed, but there were so many who hadn’t.

Naoya was the first. The king of misogynistic assholes worldwide. Sure, he ticked you off and you’d weighed the idea of slapping the smirk off his face often, but seeing him dead?. It was wrong.

Haibara was next.

Then Toji.

Then Mahito.

Gojo was the worst. The killer had made him call you, bleeding out and slurring his last words, begging you to save him. You didn’t arrive quickly enough. There was hardly any of him left when you did.

The police force in Woodsboro was no help, they ignored most tip calls, despite the fact the killer was most likely going to come back for one of the survivors. You were the ones who needed protecting. You were the leads. You were all but kicked out and sent home alone.

You and Nanami decided to stick together. There was safety in numbers, and the killer could come back for any of you. You stayed in the hospital waiting room, head on his shoulder, waiting for Shoko to wake up. Geto had insisted he needed to solve this crime if no one else would, and abandoned the two of you.

You hoped he was okay.

He’d been mad when you’d last spoken, urging you to come with him, figure out who this killer was, save your remaining friends. You declined, and for good reason! It was too dangerous. You begged him to stay, but he walked away without a backwards glance. What if that was the last conversation you ever had with him? What if he—

You jolt awake. You’re still against Nanami in the hospital waiting room, but the lights flicker on and off, and there’s a siren sound in the halls. Emergency evacuation. You stood to wake Nanami, your hand finding his shoulder, yet before you could utter a word, he slumped to the side.

He was gone. Everyone. The nurses. The attendants. The doctors. The patients. They were all gone. There was so much blood. Too much blood. You were too sleepy to take in the smell of iron permeating the air around you, but you were wide awake now.

“It didn’t hurt.”

The familiar crackle of the voice modulater broke through the silence. Ghostface. He stood against the wall, mask staring straight at you, dangling his knife at his side, feigning boredom.

“I made it quick for Nanami. He deserved it with all the stress he’s been under, y’know? Like falling asleep, angel, I promise,” he said, placing a hand on his chest to mock you.

Angel? He gave you a nickname? What a sick, twisted—

“I let Shoko be. She’ll be gone by the end of the week in her condition, anyways. Do you know how much of a pain it is to dispose of a whole floor? Two, three, and four evacuated using the emergency exits. Some of these guys stuck behind. Real annoyances, if you ask me.”

Your fist hit your thigh repeatedly, willing yourself to run, hide, fight, move, anything. It was pathetic. You could feel everything, but do nothing. Tears fell before you could stop them, and you started to regain feeling in your toes. This was a start.

“Oh, shh, shh. It’s okay, {{user}}. I would never hurt you. Never. No, you’re not a target.” He closed the distance, his dark cloak trailing through the puddles of blood. “I’ll prove it to you. See?” The stranger tossed the knife to the far end of the room. It landed with a clatter than had you flinching.

Moving.

Oh, thank whatever’s up in that great beyond.

Except you can’t run. Because he’s taking the mask off, hands bloodstained, gentle, precise. He’s taking the mask off and he’s Geto. He’s killed people and he’s a murderer and he’s a psychopath and he’s Suguru.

No. No. This can’t be happening.

“Surprise, {{user}}.”