Lars Storstrand Holmlund Has Been Found Guilty
When the votes rolled in against him, the journalist had barely seemed affected if at all. The same subtle smirk was showing on his face, tongue resting carefully between his teeth. In fact, he seemed rather pleased with himself more than anything.
Though they extended out toward him, the chains need not bother, for Lars steadily and patiently walked out toward where they would have taken him. He didn’t seem afraid. He didn’t even seem remotely worried at the fact that he was going to die. No, he simply tucked his hands into his emptied pockets and proceeded straight through, right through a doorway flanked with heavy steel doors. He was consumed by darkness for a few moments before the area surrounding him was suddenly flooded with light.
Lars seemed to be in a far corner of the dome, something right up next to a glass wall. There seemed to be a fair-sized crack a bit of distance away, but one’s attention would immediately be garnered by the massive, brass-colored setup in front of them. There, just a few feet away from Lars, sat a monstrous machine covered in various knobs, dials, and a couple of meters. There was a chair situated in front of it, a chair lined with straps and restraints, a chair that Lars didn’t even get a chance to willingly sit down in before chains latched onto his wrists and ankles and pulled him right back into the seat, the wrist shackles pulling up his sleeves and slicing one of his already heavily scarred arms open in the process.
Once in place, he felt the restraints on the chair automatically slip on and tighten around his wrists and ankles. Gritting his teeth, he gripped the armrests with his thankfully partially free hands until his knuckles turned white, though he seemed to relax moments afterward. Taking in a deep, heavy breath, he stared straight ahead, right into the faces of his classmates, and cracked a grin wider than the one before.
He knew exactly what was coming. He had planned this out from scratch, carefully laying out every detail. And he knew, probably better than anyone else in the dome, that the electric chair was a rather showy form of state execution; however it was designed not to be painful. He managed to maintain his grin as the metallic dome was lowered onto his head, feeling the blood from his freshly slashed wrist trickling down his hand. Brain death, and then a jolt to the rest of his organs. At the very least, it was going to be almost instantaneous.
Until… the dome fell backward, missing his head and dropping to the floor with a clunk.
The journalist inhaled sharply in surprise, his brows knitting in fear when he realized what this meant.
Until… the dome fell backward, missing his head and dropping to the floor with a clunk.
The journalist inhaled sharply in surprise, his brows knitting in fear when he realized what this meant.
The electricity began quickly after that, Lars’ body beginning to jerk and twitch as he felt the energy flow through his body. It didn’t take long before the boy’s skin became charred, his hair singed, and pretty soon the execution chamber was filled with smoke.
When that cleared out, there was no life left in the crumpled, vaguely smoking body that had once been Lars Holmlund. He had been a hard-nosed, rational, and extremely callous boy, cruel but direct, and had held them all hostage in this dome for all of these months. But when that smoke cleared and his form became distinguishable again, it was ever so clear that the Mastermind was dead. The class was free.
C O N G R A T U L A T I O N S
