Author's Note: Hello everyone, and welcome to my newest story! This one's actually been in the works for over a year at this point, and I've finally decided it's about time I begin posting it to FF. As of today, 2nd February 2017, I have written about 11 chapters of content for this 999 fanfic, and I can't wait to keep writing more to deliver. For the record, this will read much like the game, in which chapters may end with a choice our main character has to make. However, this is NOT a choose your own adventure; I will be deciding exactly where he goes and when. After we reach one ending, I'll have our main character go back and choose different things to see if he can help figure out the mystery of this story. In any case, I hope you enjoy it.

Nonary Game: Resonance

Robin found himself slipping awake, a strange feeling fogging his head. Not yet ready to leave his sleeping state, he kept his eyes shut and shifted. Or, he tried to shift, but he found himself unable to move his body. What the hell? He felt his breathing start to hasten as he mentally strained against the weight of his arms, not feeling them move at all. Indeed, he couldn't even bring himself to open his eyes.

After a few seconds of struggling, he finally felt himself fighting off the foggy feeling, and his body jerked. With a gasp, he finally opened his eyes, then realizing he'd been sleeping on his back. "Sleep paralysis…" he mumbled to himself, inhaling deeply. He made it a point to never sleep on his back because of it, but something had happened that night…

It was then that he realized he was not staring up at his own ceiling but rather a strange-looking one, lined with cheap white tiles and beige bars. The tiles themselves were normal, but those along the walls, he noticed, were labeled with a single red number or letter. Reflexively, he threw his hands to the surface he was lying on, feeling its slight squish. Thus, he could tell there was still a mattress beneath him. However, the room he was in seemed not one for such accommodation. As he rolled over, he found his eyes resting on the metal legs of a standard classroom desk.

With a sudden jolt of energy, Robin leapt to his feet, not giving himself the time to move slowly or rationally. As such, he ended up jumping on the mattress. He would have considered himself an odd sight, had he not been powered by adrenaline in light of his strange situation. The room around him was indeed an unassuming classroom, of size that was rather standard fare for something like a high school. "What the bloody hell…"

A few feet past the foot of his mattress, he saw a simple door, presumably leading out into the hallway. Not wasting any time, he rushed over to it, grabbing the handle. Shaking it told him he was locked inside, and he gazed at the door in depressed frustration. It was only then that he noticed something strange; his wrist was now encased in a somewhat bulky watch. The first thing to catch his eye was the golden color of the casing, trimmed with a black as true as the midnight sky. The face of the watch was also unusual, the surface seeming completely black as well, save for the illumination, which lit up only a single digit. "[8]..." Robin muttered to himself, reading the cold cyan number before him. After a few seconds, he inverted his arm, seeking to remove the device.

When met with the sight of a solid band, he paused, again in surprise. A quick rub-down of the watch revealed no clasps were hidden on it, and thus, the watch would be remaining with him for a while. At a loss for how next to proceed, he quickly turned around to scan the room, his eyes landing almost immediately on a second door, on the wall opposite the first. It looked like it had been basically identical to the first, but it had been painted over with a giant number. Another 8, he thought, again rubbing the watch in discomfort. The number was in red, rather bright in relation to the bland door but just dark enough to make him over-aware of the blood that he could hear pulsing behind his ears.

He rushed to the door with the same hope for immediate freedom, but for the first time since awakening in the room he hesitated. Beside the door was a device that he was sure had to be a card reader. It was fairly large, though, with what looked like a small door to the left of the part where the card would be swiped. On the right side of the device was a smooth lever, meeting the device right below a small light. Its vibrant red was clearly indicating the device was in a locked state, but he pulled the lever anyway, since he had no better options. He was met with two harsh beeps, which affirmed his suspicion. Looks like I'll be looking for some kind of card then, he thought, his mind somehow having regripped logic in spite of the shakiness that continued to course through his body.

(Suggested listening: Trash Disposal Room)

A slew of wooden desks were arrayed around the room, so Robin decided to open those closest to him to see if the key might have been left inside. The search was fruitless, which he figured he should have expected. Since he lacked a better plan, though, he jogged over to the next row of desks, opening them quickly.

His search of the second row was marginally more successful. He found himself in possession of two curious items - a purple dry-erase marker that was surprisingly heavy and a small, white tile that was roughly two inches square. The smooth tile was emblazoned with a red number 5, rather reminiscent of the ceiling. Again, he looked up, scanning the sides to read the letters and numbers. It seemed that they progressed to form a sort of coordinate system, with all of the tiles on the door side reading 0 to 9 and all the tiles perpendicular reading A to S. Alas, with no further information, he gripped the marker and tile and made for the next row.

Only one desk in the row had anything, another dense marker. What is with these markers? he thought, placing the other objects in his pocket as he moved to open the red marker in his hands. The cap remained firmly on, leading Robin to think it was possibly not even a real marker at all. It must have been made specially for this… puzzle… Yes, that was definitely the word for what he was in. As he began opening desks in the fourth row, he was reminded of those escape-the-room games he'd played in his preteen years. Except I'm stuck in this one, he thought, smirking.

Having no luck, he changed course, moving over to the teacher's desk at the end of the row. There were two larger side doors, both of which opened easily. One was unfortunately empty, but another had two more of the supposed dry-erase markers in it. "Green and orange…" he mumbled to himself, using the sound of his voice to bring something familiar back into his situation. In that moment, he gripped the markers tightly, whispering to himself again. "I'm still here… and I'm okay." It wasn't much, but for the time being, it would have to be enough.

The top drawer of the desk had a small lock in the center, which Robin assumed was engaged. A quick tug on the bottom proved him correct, and he sighed. The room was large enough to hide a key rather easily, so how the hell was he supposed to find one? He realized then that he'd missed a row of desks, and he grunted at himself in slight frustration. How did I forget that? he thought, knocking lightly on his head as though to clear it. It was still a bit foggy from his strange situation, but he wasn't sure why…

Until he opened the next closest desk. A sheet of mirror was fixed in the bottom, and for the first time, he was able to see his face. His eyes were baggy, and the circles around them were noticeable. His skin looked paler than usual, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. I wonder how long I was asleep… A flash of black in the back of his mind brought back his last memory before the day.

He had just gotten home from the bar with a few of his friends. He hadn't even been drinking that night, since he knew he'd have to drive early the next morning to catch a flight. The realization that he'd most definitely missed the plane frustrated him, but as he figured he had bigger problems to worry about, he continued his recollection. As he carried in his rucksack, ridiculously heavy with textbooks, he moved to close the door with his foot, unfortunately missing. With a mockingly dejected grunt, he hobbled to the couch, thumping his rucksack atop it. He allowed himself a major stretch before turning around and freezing still.

The figure before him was dressed in all black, save for a trim of red around the edges of their jacket. Their large stature was unnerving enough, but the real kicker was the gasmask that rested over their apparently emotionless face. Robin made to speak but could feel only a formless interjection brewing in his throat. It never escaped his lips. "You have been selected for the Nonary Game. Congratulations." The figure's words were brief and chilling, distorted just past the range of sounding human due to the mask. As soon as Robin found himself able to move again, his eyes landed on a white canister on his floor. Gas poured from it, clouding both the air and his vision. In a few seconds, he stumbled to his knees, his eyes fixated on the unmoving figure before him. Terror squeezed at his heart as the gas squeezed at his eyelids.

If only I'd closed my fucking door, he thought then, fueled by a brief flash of rage. He threw out his leg and kicked the desk, toppling it and removing the mirror from view. After a few more seconds, his anger diminished back into adrenaline, telling him that he had no time to waste with further stupidity. Moving on, he opened the next desk over, taking out the blue marker within it. He continued quickly, finding nothing until the final desk in the room. In the back corner rested a small, silver object - the key he'd been seeking. "Yes!" He snatched it, pacing quickly back to the teacher's desk.

Unlocking it was a definitively smooth process, and as the drawer slid out, he found two simple things resting within it. The first was a folded sheet of paper, which was spread before him in no time. In the center of the sheet was a fairly large 3 by 4 grid of squares, divided into 1 by 2 segments of differing colors. Robin listed them off to himself: "Red, blue, green, yellow, purple, orange." It must have had something to do with the five markers he'd found, implying then that there was a sixth he had yet to find. For the time being, he left the sheet on the teacher's desk, refocusing on the second item.

It was a small, metallic box, with seven magnets placed haphazardly atop it. It's a tangram puzzle, Robin recognized immediately. There was an angular shape printed on the shiny surface in a matte beige, which Robin figured was the desired form of the puzzle pieces. The box seemed to be hinged along the back, so solving the puzzle would presumably unlock it. Taking a chance, however, he tugged on the two sides, just in case it was unlocked. Go figure, he thought, then sliding around the pieces at random.

He then realized how awkward he must have looked in that situation. He had been kidnapped from his home, and here he was, spending an unfortunate amount of time sticking magnets to a box and becoming increasingly aggravated at a puzzle instead of the danger his life was surely in. The thought did manage to send a chill down his spine, however, and he paused for a minute, wondering if there was any chance that there was another paper in the room, perhaps, that revealed the answer to this puzzle as well. His hands kept moving the pieces as his eyes scanned the room, unaware of the futility of haphazard motion.

The first thing he became aware of was a whiteboard along the wall just past the teacher's desk. He hadn't been fully cognizant of it before, considering he had focused on what clues the desk might offer him, but he then noticed a black rectangular shape in the middle of the board. That must be what the markers go in, he figured, remembering its location for when he finally found the sixth.

"Oh!" he called out as he looked back at the puzzle. None of the pieces were quite where they needed to be, but they were then close enough that he could reason the final orientation from there. As the last magnet slid into place, the box clicked, and the top weakly popped up. With a flick of his finger, Robin was able to open it, a bit disappointed that all it contained was another tile, this time numbered 6. Still looking for one last marker… He felt the thump of the items in his pockets as he jogged to the last unexplored corner of the room. There sat a surprisingly large rolling ladder that nearly reached the ceiling. Atop the highest step lied a briefcase, which he carefully retrieved.

The clank of metal below told him he'd somehow dropped something, and as he reached the ground, he spotted something yellow between the bars of the ladder. The last marker, he thought, grasping it quickly. Relieved to have solved that mystery, he turned his attention to the briefcase, his hopes sagging as his eyes landed on a dial combination lock. "Well, that was brief," he mused to himself. "Better take it with me, just in case." Since it wouldn't fit in his pocket, he awkwardly held it in his left hand, giving the watch one last glance before moving back to the marker holder on the whiteboard.

"Red, blue, green, yellow, purple, orange…" he reminded himself, digging the markers awkwardly out of his pocket and shoving them in the holder. There was no indication of any sort that he'd done something correctly, so he frowned and stepped back. Could the sheet have been mismarked? Er… misprinted? He figured he'd be better off making fewer puns and solving more puzzles, so he grabbed the diagram he'd found in the teacher's desk again. Every marker was in its proper position, unless…

He quickly inverted the sheet, then shrugging and deciding to move them all. A minute click affirmed his suspicions, and a small tile fell from within the holder onto the rack below the whiteboard. Number 4… Robin began to wonder how many of these damn things he would have to find before he could get the card key to unlock the door. No longer sure of how to proceed, he spent another several seconds drawing his eyes across the room. A small switch sat beside the whiteboard, which he'd initially assumed simply controlled the lights (which he most assuredly didn't want to be without), but it dawned on him that the back corner of the room was a rather strange place for the switch. Thus, he decided to flip it down and see what fresh hell the room would lay upon him.

The whirring noise of an electronic mechanism caught his attention immediately, and he was somewhat surprised to find a projection screen rolling down automatically over the whiteboard. In the corner, he could already see another one of those numbered tiles duct-taped to the screen, which he snatched off before it could finish unrolling. That's number 2. As soon as the screen reached full extension, there was another electronic noise of approval, and the screen was then lit up from the projector. Naturally, Robin had failed to notice the device earlier, and he scratched his head while staring at it for a moment before looking to see what new information he was given.

The largest text on screen caught his eye quickly, revealing a three-digit number. "503," he read, looking back to the briefcase gripped in his hand. With his free right hand, he slid the dials energetically, accidentally flicking the last digit too far. Good to see the adrenaline hasn't worn down, he thought, wryly. With another welcoming click, he found the latch now free to move. Inside was yet another numbered tile, and it briefly occurred to him that he'd forgotten how many he now held. The new one was numbered 3, which he only noted briefly before reading two more characters printed on the interior wall of the case.

"What the hell is P6…" He suddenly recalled he hadn't finished reading the projection, so he thrust the briefcase onto a nearby desk and refocused his attention. Perhaps to keep his mind from drifting off, he read the text aloud to himself. "A digital root, or repeated digital sum, is the number obtained when the digits of a number are added together until only one digit remains, thus being between one and nine. Therefore, calculating a digital root is fairly simple. For example, to find the digital root of 503, sum 5 plus 0 plus 3, which equals 8. Thus, the digital root of 503 is 8. For another example, take 7268. 7 plus 2 plus 6 plus 8 equals 23. 2 plus 3 equals 5. Thus, the digital root of 7268 is 5."

Robin wondered why such a description was given, unless it was simply to frame the number that encoded the briefcase. However, another glance at his wrist pressed his intuition to believe that the concept would be much more important. The code's digital root matches the number on my watch and the door… Maybe that's a clue? In thought, he let his head rock to the side, his line of sight sliding up to the corner of the ceiling.

"P6!" He flinched slightly, preparing to move forward with his discovery, only to be stopped by his realization that he wasn't sure how exactly to proceed. Perhaps the characters meant he was supposed to find something underneath the tile that would be in line with both the tile labeled "P" and that labeled "6"? As unobservant as he'd admit to being, he was rather sure he hadn't missed anything on the floor around the room whatsoever. Unless they want me to use the ladder to actually check the tile… Figuring the device served no additional purpose in a standard classroom, he set about moving it.

"Guess it'd be a pretty damn bland maths class without… whatever this is… going on," he mumbled to himself, becoming moderately unnerved at the difficulty he faced moving the ladder. "Christ, what are these wheels even made of, lead?" With a great deal of overexertion, he finally moved the ladder somewhat close to the proper tile. Indeed, he was met with success when he climbed up and popped the designated thing out of its place. His first prize was symbolic of his stress - the ceiling tile jumped from his shaking hands and crumbled on the floor. "Piece of shit!" he grunted quietly. Alas, in the rubble he found exactly what he'd been seeking. Alongside a smaller tile numbered 7 was an item with a gold that matched the body of the watch that he'd been given. A solid stripe of black along the side identified it as the card key he'd been seeking.

He grabbed the key in the same motion he'd used to descend the ladder, only stopping from leaping to the door so that he might not forget the number 7 tile. It dawned on him that he hadn't found one numbered 8, which would have been exactly what he'd expect out of an item of mysterious future importance. That's a Chekov's gun, right? He couldn't remember where exactly he'd picked up the term, but he had a sinking gut feeling that whatever weirdo had created this puzzle was smart enough to include all kinds of hidden clues Robin wouldn't be able to figure out. Allowing himself only one more grunt of begrudging acceptance, he mentally prepared himself and approached the door.

With a swipe of the gold card key, the lockbox clicked. He'd been expecting a beep, but instead the area to the left of the swipe popped open. Behind it rested three square indentations, clearly perfectly sized to fit the numbered tiles he'd found. Guess their importance was a lot sooner than expected, he thought, fishing them from his pocket. Splayed out in his left hand, they formed a random clump of digits. His eyes first noticed the 6 and 3 beside each other. He instinctively summed them to 9.

"If you add 9 to any number, it doesn't change the digital root." Robin inhaled sharply, immediately disturbed by the voice that had shoved its way into his head. The voice was entirely unfamiliar to him, but at the same time it felt comfortable, like he'd been chatting with his buddies about numbers at the food court. He wasn't so great with mathematics, but somehow the content of the message didn't seem to come as a surprise; he'd found himself lamenting not having an 8 to go with any of the three pairs in his hand that summed to 9. I guess I'd better make a digital root of 8 with these tiles, then.

After an embarrassing amount of shuffling the tiles around on the desk nearest him, he finally had the combination he desired. "First the 4… Now the 6… And the 7." The moment the third tile was snugly in its indentation, the card reader beeped, the red light being replaced by a more comforting turquoise. His only lament at that point was that he'd have to emotionally prepare himself again for whatever was on the other side of the door. Resting a sweaty palm around the knob of the lever, he mouthed a quick prayer and pulled down.

Two chirping beeps and a louder clunk of metal were its only replies, and Robin shook his head in disbelief. "Making me open the damn thing too," he groaned, no longer possessing the energy to steel himself. "Whatever the fuck's out there, it better be good."

And as he turned and pushed on the handle, his view landed on another pair of eyes. "It's number [8]!" the person called out, and within seconds Robin's field of sight was populated by several others.