Live or Die, Make Your Choice
(A/N: I forgot to ask, but how was the last chapter? Did you guys enjoy it? Anyhow, things are going to get a lot more juicy as Kramer starts to move his chess pieces. I wonder what butterfly effects this first major trap will have for MHA?)
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[2 Weeks Later]
[Narrator's POV]
The world was a blur.
Manual's head throbbed with pain, his vision slowly coming to his senses as he tried to recollect his last thoughts. It was the usual evening patrol on the streets, a peculiar time when the typical activities of a citizen slowed down as criminal activity started to rise.
It was a forced routine that Manual put himself through. The evening orange sky, as beautiful as it was, served as a constant reminder to him about that regretful event early in his career. The flames bore the exact hue as the sky when the sun says goodnight, so that every time Manual looked up, he would remind himself of his failure as a hero and to never make such a mistake in his life.
He remembered how empty the streets were. There were typically people crossing the street here or there, or an occasional fan that said waved, and there were always cars that whizzed by him. But not this time.
The only thing he could remember was a quick, yet sharp pain he felt on his back as if a knife or sword had grazed him. Then, he felt his body cease to move before blacking out and waking up just moments ago.
He groaned as he tried to move but his limbs felt heavy. Panic began to set in as Manual's eyes adjusted to the dim light around him. He realized he was sitting in a cold metal chair, his wrists bound tightly to the armrests, and his ankles shackled to the legs. A harsh, sterile light flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows on the damp, concrete walls.
However, two things immediately jumped out at Manual. The first was a clear glass container surrounding his head. It was as if he were sticking his head within an empty aquarium.
Looking above, Manual noticed a tube with a small opening about the size of a bottle cap or a coin. Connected to that tube was another container filled to the brim with water right above Manual, with the only thing holding all that water from drowning the hero being a valve situated in the middle of the tube connecting the two containers.
The second thing that caught his attention was the large container of water opposite him.
To be more specific, it was mounted to the wall opposite him, just below the odd placement of an antique television propped up on a stool, its screen blank and lifeless. The large container, which easily held multiple gallons of water, had 10 hoses extending out of it and connected to other empty containers with specific markings on them.
As Manual took in what he was seeing, his heartbeat intensified. He was in some sort of an underground room, possibly a cellar of sorts. With the exception of the containers around the room, the rusted pipes bordered the walls. His own strained breathing and the soft trickle of water from somewhere nearby were the only sounds audible.
"Where... where am I?" Manual whispered to himself, his voice trembling with fear.
Before he could fully process the situation, the screen of the television flickered to life with a loud buzz. Manual flinched, his eyes widening as a static-filled image began to form. Slowly, the picture cleared, revealing a figure he had never seen before.
A grotesque puppet with pale, cracked skin and dark eyes stared back at him, its mouth twisted into a sinister grin. The puppet wore a black suit, a blood-red bow tie, and spiralled red cheeks, its appearance both unnerving and surreal.
"Hello, Masaki Mizushima," the puppet spoke, its voice distorted yet oddly calm. Manual's blood ran cold as he heard his own name.
"I want to play a game."
He couldn't describe why, but those words sent a shiver down his spine as he struggled against his restraints in a futile attempt to set himself free. But the bonds held firm, digging painfully into his skin.
"You've spent your life as a hero," the puppet continued, its voice echoing in the small room. "But your actions have consequences, consequences that you have not truly faced. You claim to protect others, but your arrogance and lack of foresight resulted in the death of a misguided father. The fire you tried to douse was not extinguished by your hands, and now, those flames have returned to test you."
Manual's breath hitched as he realized the meaning behind the puppet's words. This was about his failure, a botched attempt at a domestic dispute turned hostage situation.
"You have a quirk that allows you to control water," the puppet said, its eyes staring into the Pro Heroes' eyes. "Your control is limited and your power is insufficient, but that will change…" The puppet's grin seemed to widen, though that may have well been Manual's eyes playing cruel tricks on him.
Manual's eyes remained glued on the screen as his mind raced with a million thoughts.
"Your task is simple," the puppet started. "You must use your quirk to drain the water from the large container mounted on the wall to the smaller vessels you see before you. Each vessel is marked with a precise measurement, and you must fill them to the exact level required. No more, no less."
The Pro Hero's breathing grew more rapid as his chest heaved while he struggled against the restraints, this time more frantically. But the puppet continued, unfazed by his distress.
"However, there's a catch," the puppet's voice grew colder, more menacing. "The hoses attached to the large container will automatically start draining water into the smaller vessels as soon as the timer begins. However, they will drain unevenly as each hose releases water at different rates. Some may trickle down slowly, while others might gush out, threatening to overflow the vessels."
Manual's eyes darted to the hoses and containers before him, realizing the severity of the situation. He would have to balance the water levels in each vessel with utmost precision, using his quirk to control the flow or face certain death.
"You see, Mizushima," the puppet continued. "This is a test of your ability to control not just water, but the chaos that follows your every move. If you let even one vessel overflow with water, the valve above you will open, and you will drown. But if you succeed… if you prove that you have the precision and control that a hero should possess… the valve will remain closed, and the restraints you find yourself in will be released."
Manual was no stranger to high-stakes situations, but this was different. This wasn't a battle against a villain or a rescue operation — this was a battle against his own limitations and time itself. "Heroes are defined by their actions, not their intentions, Mizushima. Will you drown in the deep, or rise from it?"
"Live or die, make your choice."
Manual's breath came in ragged gasps as the puppet's image disappeared, the screen flickering to black before a timer appeared on screen, counting down from three minutes.
"Three minutes to control the flow of water," he said to himself through fear. "To fill each container with precision… to call myself a hero…"
With no time to waste, the Pro Hero focused on the task at hand. Manual was sharp to notice that vessels three and eight were draining too quickly for comfort, threatening to overflow at any moment. So, he quickly stopped the flow of water to those vessels to focus on them later.
The first vessel was filled to the marked line with ease. "One down, nine to go," he muttered under his breath. "Just gotta make sure no more water flows down that hose…" Manual gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay calm and maintain control of the situation.
With each passing second, the pressure mounted. The room seemed to close in on him, the weight of the water above his head a constant threat. Manual's vision blurred, his mind racing as he juggled the flow of water between the vessels, trying to keep up with the relentless pace of the draining hoses.
"The second vessel is dripping too slowly, I'll save that for later and focus on the third one," Sweat dripped down his forehead as he fought to keep the water under control, the ticking clock a constant reminder of how little time he had left.
Manual eased pressure from the water that flowed into the third vessel as he saw the liquid quickly rise to the marked line. But he maintained control as the water obeyed him obediently. "There we go, two down so far…"
Two minutes left.
The timer on the wall continued to tick down, the seconds slipping away like grains of sand through an hourglass. The second and fourth vessels were filled without any incident, but the fifth vessel posed him some trouble.
Unlike the second vessel which took slightly longer to fill up, the hose attached to the fifth vessel tricked with a snail's pace and would have easily needed at least 10 minutes just to get it to the halfway point naturally.
Manual clenched his hands into a tight fist as he forced more water into the hose with his quirk, trying to speed up its flow, all the while making sure that no water entered the vessels that he'd already completed.
Off of his peripheral vision, he took notice that the eighth vessel was nearing its mark, and so carefully controlled the amount of water that entered that hose while simultaneously controlling water flow into the fifth vessel.
One minute left.
Panic set in as Manual realized he was running out of time. The fifth and eighth vessels were completed as he filled the sixth and tenth vessels in a rush, barely managing to stop the water in time. The hero's heart wanted to explode, but he couldn't give up, not when he was so close to freedom.
Thirty seconds left.
The seventh vessel was nearly full, but the ninth one was lagging behind considerably. Compounded with the limited time he had, along with holding all the water back from flowing into the other vessels, Manual felt like he wanted to pass out.
Ten seconds left.
The seventh vessel was filled, but the ninth vessel was still too slow. "Fuck, FUCK!" Manual screamed, agony plaguing him at the sheer thought of death. With one final push, Manual forced as much water as he could into that hose, hastily swapping back and forth from looking at the timer, and how close he was to filling the vessel.
But it was too late.
Zero seconds left.
The timer displayed on the television screen vanished without a trace, replaced with the same puppet from before as the valve above him opened with a loud click. Manual looked up in horror as the water began to pour into the glass container around his head.
"I don't want to die, I don't want to die…"
He struggled against the restraints, trying to free himself, but it was no use. The water continued to rise, first reaching his chin, then his mouth, then his nose.
He held on to his final gasp of air, counting in his mind how many seconds had passed, but eventually, he couldn't take it anymore as his body instinctually gasped for air. The floodgates had now opened as water filled his lungs, hitting him with a burning sensation in his chest.
The last thing Manual saw before the darkness claimed him was the twisted grin of the puppet on the television screen, watching him drown with cold, lifeless eyes. The water that he previously had control over resumed filling up the vessels beyond their marked line as the hero's body went limp.
"Game over…"
(A/N: I'd say that Manual didn't deserve to die, but I am the author here, so only I'm to blame. Anyhow, did I cook here? The ramifications of Manual's death on society will undoubtedly put Jigsaw's name on the map, so I kinda want to hear your predictions for the future!)