Work Text:
I. The Victims
There once was a boy,
Hair blond and curled
Strapped to the wonder wheel
As around and around it whirled.
He trusted his friend to save him
He put his faith to the test,
But in the end, they failed,
And he was put to rest.
The Hippie has died.
There once was a boy,
His shirt and jacket flamboyant,
Instead of only fixating on negatives
He tried to find enjoyment.
He sacrificed himself for the others
Collapsing the Snake Woman’s tower
Succumbing to the effects of her venom
His once-strong muscles lost their power.
The Daredevil has died.
There once was a girl
In a bright scarlet coat
When choosing who died
She always got a vote
Eventually, her luck ran out
Her leadership was tested
And following her failed exam
Her life from her was wrested.
The Super Spy has died.
There once was a boy,
With brown eyes sharp and brilliant,
Despite all the losses he suffered
He found it in him to be resilient.
He claimed there was no justice here
And he was right, without a doubt,
As his last breaths escaped him,
The light of hope went out.
The Detective has died.
There once was a girl,
Her outfit dusted with silver glitter
After finding the Savant’s true motive
Her feelings toward him turned bitter.
A rift formed between the group
There was no way to make amends
She was sealed in an Iron Maiden,
Betrayed by those she considered friends
The Disco Dancer has died.
There once was a girl,
Hair long, straight, and dark,
Inside her brain dwelled
An intelligent spark.
No one predicted her death
Events unseen before
The hook gouged in her side
She bled out on the floor.
The Investigative Reporter has died.
There once was a girl,
With a sugar-crystal heart
A sister to the brown-eyed boy
They refused to be torn apart.
But a witch’s curse befell them both
She was placed upon the witches’ altar
Her scream pierced the midnight sky
And the boy was left to live without her.
The Jet-Setter has died.
There once was a boy
His jumpsuit forest green,
He was an asset to the group
Both his looks and mind were keen.
He nearly made it to the end
In terms of strength, he was the best
But that alone could not save him
When he took six bullets to the chest.
The Record Producer has died.
II. The Victors
There once were three survivors
Yet they were victims, all the same
Unwilling participants
In the Carnival Master’s twisted game
First there was the Savant,
The sole cause of it all,
Despite the odds against him,
He escaped the Cursed God’s thrall.
Next there was the Troublemaker,
And she did exactly that until the end
She had a choice to save herself
So she did, killing her friend
Finally, the Detective,
Now risen from the grave
Death’s icy hands had lost their grip
On whom Lazarus chose to save.
The three of them strode out the gates
They had put up a grand fight
But in the end, they all knew
They would never truly escape this night.