Take Responsibility.

[antitrust]

The door at the bottom of those stairs is unlocked. It opens as though of its own volition - with a heavy click and a light outward swing toward the staircase leading back up to the dorms, not enough to harm anyone who might be standing in the way but enough to give them some slight encouragement to move. As for where the door will lead everyone...well, that has yet to be seen. The first thing to be noted is that it's dark - not pitch-black, granted, there's some slight illumination some distance off, giving everyone something to move toward, but the fact remains that it's dark, and this hallway is long, though the walls and floors are all made of smooth concrete. Bunker-grade, almost, the sort of thing one would expect from a professionally-built basement designed to withstand almost anything; at least there's nothing to trip over in the hallway, unless you're the sort to fall over your own two feet, whether through a lack of coordination or simply nerves. Eventually the hallway opens up, however, and everyone will find themselves faced with a room that seems designed to survive the apocalypse itself - a high-ceilinged room made of concrete and steel, stark and bare in comparison to the wallpapered rooms above. In the center of the room is a circle of podiums, thirty in total, arranged so that everyone standing at them can see each other. So everyone can look each other in the eyes, if they so choose. The podiums are interlocked - there's no cutting across the center of the circle, and for good reason, it looks like there's a lot of nothing down there where the floor should be - and each is bearing the title of the person who's assigned to stand at it. No names, just adjectives, emblazoned across two brass panels on the very top and the front of each podium. Affixed to the podium itself is a panel with buttons on it, twenty-nine in total; next to the buttons are smaller strips of engraved metal to serve as labels, bearing the titles of everyone that's been present in the Academy, living or dead. All of the podiums are identical, except for the one intended for Kaneki and the thirtieth slot. The podium that should bear Acquiescent's title has had a black cloth draped over it, and a copy of Kaneki's profile photo is sitting on top of it, framed and colorless, an image in greyscale. The thirtieth slot has nothing. That doesn't mean everyone is alone down here, however; there's a long glass panel on the stretch of wall covering that side of the room, behind that thirtieth slot - a window of some sorts, perhaps, the first one everyone has seen since they've arrived. It's a bit too dark to tell what's going on behind it, but if you watch closely...well, maybe you can see movement in there, though it's impossible to discern anything about who might be doing it. Just that there's someone there. No points for guessing who that is. Even if they don't see him, they'll hear him soon enough; there's one of those ever-present intercoms above that translucent glass panel. "Acquiescent has been taken from you; it's you against the guilty party. It's your choice whether they see the terms of Rule Seven carried out to completion. "Take control of your fate. Hold them responsible."

It's time for an after party!

[perpend]

[About an hour after the trial and subsequent execution, Cabanela makes a decision.

They need to do something, keep the morale up, however little it may be.

Under each occupied room door people will find the following note written:


In difficult times such as this, it is important to carry on.
Don't give into despair; we must preservere.
If you don't want to be alone this evening, meet me in the dining hall.
-Cabanela

[Upon entering the dinning hall, you will find Cabanela sitting at one of the tables; he has lit two candles that are placed at the center of the table, but there's nothing else to note.

You'll have to supply your own food, since he doesn't have much of an appetite.]