Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Walking around the map, 007n7 reminisced about the few times he stepped foot in the now ruined restaurant. A familiar melody buried itself into his brain, stuck while he tried to remember where he heard it from. It wasn’t a big deal, in fact it was barely a thing he should be worrying about. Yet he feels the need to find out what sound he was hearing to be able to focus on the tedious task of generators. The very machines he’s supposed to be fixing to have the semblance of being useful to the others. He wanted to prove that he wasn’t the same man he was before, that he was trying to fix the mistakes he had made. 007n7 knew better than to let the nagging feeling overcome his brain as easily as the memories of his past seem to slip in and out of his grasp. It was better off this way and he knew it, to remember less of whatever hell he endured to end up here.

Now? The burning building felt almost cruel, like a mocking reminder of the horrors he had placed upon the building and those inside, the disregard of those robloxian’s safety he once had. He remembered the brief reign of terror his red child had had, only for long enough to get them both blacklisted for life, never to return again.

As though the killer knew he was thinking of the tiny terror, a shrill cry echoed from the distance, causing 007n7 to stiffen up, hearing the call of his son from halfway across the map, laughing and smiling at the sight of his father, who was frozen in disbelief. No matter how many rounds he’s endured seeing his son, C00lkidd never failed to make him stare in utter surprise, ignoring the part of his brain that screamed at him to move, to will his body to run from his son. Once a sweet boy, now a heartless killer, believing everything was some game, some twisted game between hide and seek and tag. He didn’t even blink before his son had travelled all the way in front of him, suddenly causing his entire body to run hot as flames crawled up his arms, legs, across his skin. The unbearable heat digging into his bones, oozing over his skin like lava from an erupting volcano.

“Tag! Ur it, papa!” C00lkidd squealed, voice glitching out, words bleeding into one another, cracking from excitement of getting his father once more. He giggled, the red child’s face contorted into a giddy grin, staring down at his father he had knocked down. 007n7’s senses returned, numbing the pain that licked at his scorched skin. His son had grown so much, but he didn’t think of it in a fond way, instead out of pure and utter despair. How could the Spectre do this to his son? The way his body lurched forward, as though his spine forced him to slouch this way, permanently ruining his posture. 007n7 couldn’t imagine the discomfort he must've felt. The thought of seeing his son like this truly hurt him, too.

And yet his body moved before his mind could catch up. Calls after him and wails of “no fair” reaching his ears as rapid steps followed after him, pausing only to stare at the little contraption Taph had made, the tripwire with its supports so close together while C00lkidd stared in awe. 007n7 used this to focus on running, on getting away from his son. But his mind reeled on about how his own son kills people brutally, only to believe it was all some sick game. It made him sick knowing he was manipulated, that he was led into this false belief. His body carried himself to Elliot once he was sure his red skinned child was off ‘tagging’ one of the other survivors.

007n7 couldn’t help but think about the sick and twisted games his son wasn’t aware he was playing right into. 007n7’s hands twitched, itching to use his GUI to do something, knowing that he was limited to two actions, neither particularly useful for the team. His eyes traced the ground, while his mind began to spiral. The former hacker couldn’t help but think about his guilt, the horrible feeling consuming his heart whole, his lungs constricting. His ribs ached, his scars burned, 007n7 was focused on finding something to help himself to or contemplating sacrificing his body for his teammates. Perhaps dying wouldn't be too bad, after all, they returned back to the cabin that started it all regardless. Too focused on how he was feeling, the hacker wasn’t aware of his surroundings, having run right into someone, losing his balance and going down a second time.

Elliot stared down at him, a look of concern in his eyes as he saw the wounds, the burns that threaded themselves into 007n7’s skin, that consumed his flesh until the fires burned out. 007n7 barely recognized his bleeding figure, either.

“... please, if you don–” 007n7 didn’t even get to open his mouth to mumble some shitty plea for Elliot to spare him a slice of pizza before he tasted lukewarm sauce and almost rubbery cheese paired with spicy pepperoni on his tongue. 007n7’s hands flew wildly to grab the crust, his muscles feeling less tense, watching as the burn and slash wounds mended themselves automatically. He swallowed the last bit of pizza, feeling rejuvenated, revitalized by the sustenance, the one slice he was given all round. “Thank you… thank you so much Elliot. I’ll repay you, I swear,” 007n7 mumbled, before being stuck in this hell, he would’ve never offered to repay Elliot for anything, or he simply couldn’t remember.

The thing about being stuck here for 007n7 is that he can never seem to remember everything he needs to. Not that it matters now, not when Elliot seems almost too different from his attitude when serving him. He barely even got on his knees to grovel yet, believing that Elliot would’ve felt the power trip he would’ve if he was in that position, the power to simply control another’s health. Though he rarely spoke to Elliot regardless, not outside of designated dinner time he would often just push food around, not outside the few times 007n7 musters the humility to ask for a pizza. This was a change, this was almost too strange for the retired hacker to see Elliot willingly give him a pizza no questions asked.

“Don’t worry about it. Just… focus on surviving. Come on,” Elliot smiled, reaching out and, though hesitantly, dragging 007n7 somewhere to hide. 007n7 suddenly felt sick. This was different. Usually Elliot would be scoffing and reluctantly giving him a slice before demanding that he moved along.

But here?

Now?

Elliot, the pizza boy who seemingly hated his guts since he arrived, was leading the one person he disliked the most somewhere to stay for the remainder of the round, for 007n7 to rest. His tail curled instinctively, unsure how to react to this behaviour. He could've thought it was for some sick joke, to make him reflect on what he had done for the team this entire time; absolutely nothing. His face seemed troubled, almost irritated by this sudden change in demeanour. He practically pushed Elliot away, as though his touch burned more than his son had. The pizza boy was confused, concerned, like he wasn’t acting any different than he did before. “Seven, is there something wrong–”

“You’re acting differently, Elliot.” 007n7 was wary of Elliot’s behaviour. He seemed to be more focused on the survival of those around him rather than the vendetta he seemed to have. Elliot’s eyes reflected the obligation he had to ensure their teammates were still kicking, still fighting for their lives, to live through the hell the Spectre curated for them. He didn’t seem to have received the message that 007n7 was skeptical of his behaviour. “Did you hit your head?”

“What? No.”

“You’re usually more… hesitant to deal with me.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” 007n7 was firm with this, pulling away from the pizza boy. He remembered clearly that Elliot didn’t like him very much, not before being Forsaken and most certainly not now, when there were clear accounts of Elliot being harsh with him, citing the multiple burnings of Builder Brothers’ all tracing back to him. This whole time he understood the resentment the pizza boy had held against him. He believed Elliot’s previous refusal to immediately give him a pizza was just a result of this hatred. “You usually just… throw your pizza on the ground and tell me to get going. That’s what you did last round.”

Elliot didn’t seem to remember doing this at all, judging by the way his eyebrows knitted together, trying to put together the pieces of what 007n7 had told him.

“... you know… I forgive you now, don’t you?”

007n7 froze, eyes wide as he took in Elliot’s words, his statements. It was strange, almost uncanny to see Elliot look at him with a look that wasn’t resentment… or treating him like some being of scorn, someone less than worthless. Forgiveness was new. It wasn’t something he expected from Elliot after several rounds of the pizza deliverer making it very clear that he disliked him and didn’t want 007n7 being too close to him during rounds. It was like Elliot had a change of heart overnight.

“You never forgave me, Elliot. You said you hated me.”

“... yeah I did, I still kind of do, but… I told you I forgave you, it doesn’t really mean I like you. But I said that before you… uh,” Elliot’s gaze fell on the scar on 007n7’s left temple, then trailed off. He didn’t really know how to put it. 007n7 could only assume he meant before they were all trapped in the endless hell, a state of limbo where after a set amount of time, a handful of those who reside in the cabin they all found themselves in a tense, deadly game of hide and seek. 007n7 tried to recall when, before waking up in the cabin, did Elliot ever forgive him, what happened just before finding himself here, and get it all grew fuzzy and fizzled out. Thoughts of Elliot’s disdainful expression flashed in his mind, the hurt he’s caused the pizza worker, and yet, thinking about when Elliot had forgiven him came up as static, a gentle buzz growing at the back of his skull, mind coming blank as it builds pressure that grew from the back of his skull. Whatever Elliot was referring to, 007n7 had no memory of.

“I don’t understand,” the hacker took a breath, subtly holding his breath just in case this was all some cruel prank, some sick joke just to make a fool out of him. Yet Elliot’s eyes seemed sincere, the way his eyebrows furrowed like how he does tending to the other’s wounds, the way he looks at 007n7 like he was valuable to the team and not someone who used to terrorize servers and exploited games until the walls screamed in flames. “I don’t get why you’re being so kind to me now. After what I did to you–”

“Can you not just let go of what you’ve done?” Elliot’s hands found their way to 007n7’s shoulders, fingers curling into the clothed flesh, as though trying to squeeze the man with the burger hat to his senses, as though trying to squeeze out the memory for him. “That was ages ago, Seven. I forgave you, even if I don’t act like it.”

“I don’t recall this, I’m sorry.”

007n7 really couldn't wrap his head around this change, what Elliot referred to, having forgiven him even if he didn’t remember it. He felt somewhat bad about it. Was he supposed to remember this? Even then, he somehow knew that even with forgiveness, trust still wasn’t fully there, not when the remnants of his actions occasionally come to taunt them both, both by his c00lgui and the occasional appearance of the burnt remnants of Builder Brother’s Pizza. Elliot seemed to notice the ex-hacker’s confusion, his voice was firm, telling, almost demanding, like he didn’t trust him enough to have any self preservation.

“Just get going,” the blond gave the hacker a brusque pat on the back, giving him a firm nod. “Don’t take it too harshly. Your survival matters too.”

007n7 stumbled away towards the ferris wheel, spotting the unfinished generator tucked away by the side. He could hear the excited giggles of his son, the squeal of “I’m it!” echoed as he kneeled to the generator’s level, hands finding way to the disconnected wires in one of the panels. His hands trembled as he maneuvered the wires attached, focusing on the wires, to ensure they connected. He was immersed into the generator as he slowly fell into a rhythm, humming softly under his breath to a familiar melody he used to sing to C00lkidd.

The hacker mumbled under his breath, the tune haunting his mind, the ghost of his life before this hell clinging desperately like he was still there, still with his son. He knew loss, the loss of his son, the ability to play with C00lkidd like he used to. He yearned for the old times, when C00lkidd would beg for him to use the c00lgui because they were both c00l, when he would ask for pizza. Hell, 007n7 would’ve enjoyed the time after they got blacklisted from Builder Brother’s than this… place.

“Hacker.”

007n7 jumped upright when the calling of his name caught his attention, violently pulling him away from his reminiscence. He spun around, c00lgui in hand, preparing for a teleport when his eyes met Two Time’s, the cultist smiling serenely at the little noob on his burger hat. 007n7 lowered his panel, exhaling in relief.

“I was simply wondering what was going on between you and the pizza boy.” The cultist hummed, kneeling on the side facing the rest of the carnival. 007n7 observed as Two Time swiftly completed the panel they had opened, already on their second. 007n7 was still working on his first. “He seemed unusually… positive around you. Perhaps you’ve done something to appease him?”

007n7 thought for a moment, eyebrows suddenly furrowing as he paused on the rewiring of his panel, loose connections slipping. Had he actually done something that pleased Elliot? He would’ve remembered doing this, to which he had none, like how he couldn’t seem to remember the time where Elliot had forgiven him before he got here. Though nothing could explain why Elliot was acting the way he did.

“I don’t think I did anything for Elliot to treat me differently.”

But this was something else, he never did anything to make Elliot have that sudden change of heart, especially not before the round started. He shook his head, not trusting his words to come out right. Elliot’s behaviour was inexplicable. Two Time simply hummed in understanding, but with the way their tail swayed, he could tell they didn’t think 007n7 did nothing. 007n7 could only think that Two Time was under the belief that it had something to do with the Spawn, to which the ex-hacker doubted, like he doubted the Spawn’s legitimacy.

“Your wires are connected wrong.”

The ex-hacker in turn stared at his handiwork, jumbled and poorly connected. It was honestly embarrassing for his experience. 007n7 exhaled sharply, gritting his teeth as he disconnected the wires he had done and refocused on connecting them properly.

“Your mind seems to be busy. Is there something you’d like to…”

“No, thank you, Two Time.”

“Ah, understood.” Two Time simply smiled, or continued smiling. 007n7 doesn’t believe he’s seen Two Time not smiling. He watched the cultist get up, the generator booting up finally. They brushed imaginary dust off their clothes before turning to 007n7 once more, checking the timer on their wrist briefly. “We don’t have much longer to wait before we are sent back. Do try to avoid your son.”

Seven’s expression scrunched up, slightly offended by the remark. It was his son, his child they were talking about, as though he couldn’t survive standing nearby.

“I’ll… do my best to.”

“Very well. May the Spawn be with you.”

With that, Two Time disappeared in the shadows, light footsteps echoing softly as 007n7 was left alone once again. 007n7 pulled up the round’s status, only about a minute remained with all the generators completed. The casualties didn’t seem too bad, Chance had died before 007n7 could see them and that was all, everyone else seemed to be alive. The hacker just looked around, trying to think of something, anything to do to at least try to be useful. There were no more generators to do, 007n7 couldn’t reduce any more time.

Then he spotted it in the corner of his eye, Elliot running, sprinting away. He heard his son’s joyful laughs next, screaming about how this was so fun, this fight for survival reduced to a mere game. He checked the statuses again, the delivery boy was losing health, fast.

007n7 watched as he spawned a clone, directing it towards his son, hoping to catch his attention. The familiar screech echoed as the red child chased after the mindless body running about, dashing towards it. The hacker used the time to sneak towards Elliot once more, spotting a conveniently placed medkit on the way there. He knew Elliot wouldn’t be able to see him until a little later so he waited until his body became visible before swooping in to drag the pizza boy back to the fixed generator next to the ferris wheel.

“Wh– Seven?” Elliot flailed as he was grabbed, trying to twist and turn his body to face the person grabbing him. He stood up straight when the hacker finally let go, handing over a medkit, somewhat used and damaged but not completely unusable for Elliot. 007n7 didn’t say too much, he simply stood watching as C00lkidd chased the clone around, imagining that maybe, it’s him truly playing with his son, not the horrible game the Spectre damned them all to play, eternal suffering, damnation.

“Hurry, Elliot. I don’t know how long he’ll be distracted for,” 007n7 only knew fragments of how Elliot used to refuse help, refusing anyone aiding him if he could do it himself. Though he never got to truly see that coming here, since the pizza boy was… usually deadset on avoiding him at any chance given, even letting him suffer without pizza if he felt especially hateful towards 007n7. “Just… take it, alright? You clearly haven't been able to help yourself. At least dress your wounds.”

“... I–”

“Please,” 007n7 spoke quickly, feeling a little strange that he had just essentially lectured the blond on focusing on his own health for once. He never meant to come off as scolding or anything, hell he wouldn’t want to behave the way he did, not when Elliot was the main source of healing. The medkits were rare and usually weren’t ever for him anyway. “I don’t think any of us want you dead… not this late into the round.”

Elliot just sighed, smiling gently at the hacker as he got to work healing up, hands trembling as he worked on getting the gauze on properly. 007n7 didn’t comment on the clear inexperience, despite watching Elliot do this over and over again. It was something else he found weird, he couldn’t pinpoint it. He was glad the not-so tiny terror was off his back for now, and the clone bought him time, he couldn’t complain very much about it.

“Thanks a lot, I appreciate it.”

007n7 was completely unused to this, gratitude for him? Now that’s unheard of. 007n7 rarely ever receives gratitude for the things he did. Hell the survivors barely acknowledge him unless he messed up or were having dinner. They had to deal with him somehow. It would’ve been cruel to just leave him out, not that he would’ve minded, but feeling wanted despite his actions felt nice, but only when the others aren’t so tense around him.

“There you are!”

Both men tensed at the eager trill of the red killer sprinting in their direction, pausing for a moment with his copy of the c00lgui panel and gliding rapidly towards them with a giggle. Trying to think of a path to escape, 007n7 found their paths blocked by his son’s pizza minions. They were approaching fast and Elliot wasn’t done yet. He wouldn’t have time to heal properly if C00lkidd got to him first. The world blurred and static filled his ears as he faintly heard Elliot’s frantic calls for him to stop, for him to think, for him to–

“Gotcha!”

The familiar burning sensation spread across his skin as the rush of blood spewed outwards immediately. He stumbled back right into the minions, piping hot pizza slathered his skin, making his nerves feel exposed, too sensitive to even the cool air of the carnival. 007n7 bit back a scream, letting out a pitiful whimper instead. C00lkidd didn’t let up, he pushed his father back, 007n7 was fading in and out of consciousness as his body grew weak, his vision blurred, his mind echoed what little sounds were loud enough to shoot through the ringing in his ears.

“I’ve finally got your attention!”

007n7 barely felt the frantic call of his name, a familiar lukewarm pizza hitting his side, the healing properties trying to act quickly before he succumbed to his injuries again. Another cry from the pizza worker barely echoed in his mind as the blurring faded slightly, his feet touched the ground.

0:00 remains

007n7 woke up at the table abruptly, the same table they’ve been transported to if they successfully survived a round, glorifying the survivors in a way. He didn’t think he would’ve made it, his son was so close to finishing him off, his body quite literally collapsed, the fact that he was sitting here but not standing in the living area was a miracle. At least he didn’t make the others wait for the time his death would’ve added. He looked around, rubbing his eyes as though he had just woken up from a long nap.

He still couldn’t understand why Elliot was behaving the way he did, why he said he forgave him when he barely had memory of Elliot since Builder Brother's, which he had been banned from. Thus, he stood and went looking for the pizza boy again.

From the kitchen wafted the familiar smell of marinara, the familiar oregano and garlic cutting through the acidic tomatoes. At the same time, though more subtle, he could smell baked vanilla extract, perhaps Elliot was making cupcakes for a future round, maybe for dessert? He didn’t know. Sometimes it’s not always pizza being passed out for quick and easy healing. He’s seen milk, cakes, hell he’s seen Elliot throw stars at people. He never knew how but Elliot always looked snazzy doing it.

“Elliot,” 007n7’s voice was hesitant, dancing around the other’s mood like he was a ticking timebomb. Elliot didn’t even turn to look at him, still working in the kitchen like clockwork, efficient as he placed each pizza into a box, leaving a few on trays for dinner. The hacker frowned a bit, still observing the blond work around the kitchen. He’s never actually seen Elliot in the kitchen, though he chalked it up more to him rarely ever (willingly) being in his presence. It made more sense that he’s run into Two Time more than he’s even seen Elliot in the main cabin, let alone seeing him cook. “Elliot?”

“Are you going to continue repeating my name or did you have enough of grovelling for a slice you’re coming to get some for yourself before the round even starts?” 007n7 winces at the harshness of Elliot’s words, a stark contrast from his behaviour prior, from the way he acted with him during the round. This felt like a vat of boiling water just got dumped on him, painful, sudden, gradually building into a sort of pain he couldn’t describe curling in on his chest, wrapping around his lungs, squeezing his heart. “Get to the point. I still need to make a few more pizzas.”

007n7’s throat felt tight, trapping the words from rising up, causing him to swallow. His eyes darted from the pizza sauce simmering gently, to the oven, then the fridge and back to Elliot. He didn’t know what to say, if he could bring the previous round up like he was intending to. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him again.

“I was just wondering about last round– about how you said you forgave me for what I did and–”

“I never forgave you for anything. Are you so deep in your own guilt that you’re trying to relieve it by believing I forgave you? What is this, some sick joke?”

“No, I–”

“I don’t forgive you, I never had. Hell, I don't even know what you mean by last round,” 007n7’s eyebrows furrowed, Elliot’s words weren’t adding up. Something wasn’t right and he knew it, his eyes narrowing suddenly at the baker, who was largely focused on lowering the heat and taking out the next pizza, replacing it with another.

“Were… you not in the last round?”

“No?”

007n7 mumbled a curse under his breath. This was getting awkward, too awkward. He didn’t even know what else to bring up, especially not if Elliot… didn’t remember the previous round. Maybe Elliot was right, maybe he was losing it. Loneliness does that to people, doesn't it? Floundering for words, 007n7 decided that it wasn’t worth the effort to try to know what was going on.

“Right. Sorry for bothering you.”

Muttering something about his brain playing tricks on him, 007n7 decides to end it at that, retreating to think about something else, maybe his son, maybe Noli, anything but the pure confusion he can’t seem to grasp. He walked past the rest of the survivors, who continued their conversations like he never showed face in the first place. He pushed open the door, mumbling to no one in particular that he needed fresh air, fully unaware of the two pairs of eyes following his movements.

The endless night was the same as usual, but the hacker couldn’t help but admire the stars like they blessed the very grounds he walked on. Even if eventually he would be thrown back in a new place, another area where they get hunted down and slaughtered like deers during the season, 007n7 sought refuge at the docks. Beautiful scenery, soothing sounds of the sea, 007n7 found comfort in the soothing, gentle rush of the waves, coming and going. He couldn’t care less about the fact that this was technically desolate, lonely for they are forced to live with the same people, separate from the killers, separate from his son.

He missed his son, he missed him a lot.

He missed the way he giggled and ran to him when he spotted 007n7 sitting after he was done playing around. He missed the way C00lkidd would run to him in tears when he scraped his knee falling on the pavement. He missed the way his son would ramble to him about his day after he picked him up after the hacker’s busy three jobs. 007n7 missed his son, even if he caused him hardships, difficulties in his life, for he too made mistakes that made his own life harder.

And it included Elliot, treating him and his workplace the way he had done when he was younger, letting his son get rowdy and get his hands on his version of the c00lgui. Though he couldn’t recall if C00lkidd was given it by him, thus putting him to blame, even though he regretted it. He regretted letting his child have the very device he once used to terrorize servers, to haunt the walls with his name. But it happened anyway, what’s been done is done and he can’t reverse what’s in the past.

Elliot was confusing him. First he was bitter, so incredibly bitter about his actions, hateful towards him, for his actions, for his inactions, for breathing in his vicinity. He cannot recall when nor why the pizza boy’s hatred got so horrible, though from what he’s done, he wouldn’t be surprised at all. But now? Elliot seemed less hateful, more cautious, but also concerned for him, for his wellbeing. It was strange, the differences were unusual, they were almost uncanny. It puts him at ease due to the confusion, how difficult it is to believe that either one is the real Elliot. The one he was used to, cruel and often distasteful of him, his actions, made more sense to him, but at the same time, something felt off. After several rounds of working with Elliot, he didn’t seem to change, he seemed just as hateful as round one, just as bitter. But the one from the previous round? The Elliot who gave him a slice no questions asked? This one baffled him, he seemed sweet, concerned, like a healer is expected to be. 007n7 could still see the caution, still see the unease, but he seemed more empathetic, understanding that he may have been going through this more often than not.

It was confusing him.

“n7?”

A gentle tap on the shoulder and a gentle voice distracted him from his thoughts, the ones trying to dissect Elliot and his change in personalities. He looked up to see Guest 1337, who sat himself down and handed 007n7 a paper plate with two slices of pizza, a cupcake and a can of bloxy cola. The veteran seemed… uncertain, concerned for him, like how Elliot behaved when they were in that round.

“Do you need to talk? That conversation with Elliot sounded frustrating.” 007n7 could feel how jittery Guest was, but made no comment about it. He knew the other man was good at heart, he didn’t outright avoid and openly hate him like the others, which was nice, though… he wondered if 007n7 affected Guest the way he did the others, would he still think of him the same? Perhaps it was the fact that they were both fathers? 007n7 wasn’t too sure. “I honestly think Elliot’s acting weird too. Didn’t think he would forget an entire round just like that.”

The war veteran’s words made him feel… more at ease, less like his mind was constantly playing with him, more like he was being seen. It was always like this with Guest. Not only did he talk with him, but… he also let him talk, unlike Two Time, who occasionally converses with him, but they tend to spew their words about the spawn, their beliefs, less on 007n7. Perhaps he’s too suffocated by his loneliness that he didn’t mind Two Time rambling on and on about their religion they follow so closely. Who was he to tell them not to do something? It kept him busy enough all the same, even if he wasn’t ever really listening.

But Guest?

He seemed so patient, just enough to make him feel like he was being listened to, leaving space for him to collect his thoughts, allowing for the silence to stretch if it’s too comfortable to break it. Hell, they’d even bond over being fathers, even if 007n7 considered himself a far worse parent than Guest is.

“I honestly don’t really know what to talk about,” 007n7 admitted, more confused by the gaps in his memory, even further by Elliot’s contrasting personality, particularly from this round. He couldn't even tell if either one was actually Elliot, which made him honestly feel discomforted. “Elliot is confusing me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Seven,” Guest sighs. He doesn’t know much about Elliot nor 007n7 outside of word of mouth. He knows Elliot is relatively popular amongst those who frequented or knew Builder Brother’s well, while 007n7 was notorious for his hacker past before he retired, raised a kid and fell off the face of the earth years later. “I think maybe you should wait. It might make more sense to you if you take the time to observe?”

The hacker considered it. Watching Elliot would make things… better? It would likely clear up the confusion he feels, the frustration that’s slowly building from those three little encounters, the irritating lack of clarity in his mind.

“Maybe. But I don’t think I should trust only my own eyes,” the ex hacker mumbled, his tail wrapped around his own leg. He wasn’t sure if his mind would play with him. When he tried to recall something before being in this eternal limbo, something that wasn’t about his son, his regrets, about the things he did, he can’t seem to recall, particularly when it neared the time he had arrived. His memories would become static, then blank, then a head-splitting headache would bestow itself upon him. Oftentimes, he would see the shadows move, but not in the way he would find Two Time lurking, but in a way that felt suffocating, like he deserved the hell he was placed in.

“Then you won’t be the only one watching him.”

The offer was unexpected, but it made him feel like he was the only one experiencing it, even if two people had just come to him about Elliot’s behaviour, one believing he had done something… or that some miracle had happened, the other, Guest, who wanted to check in on him. It was nice of him.

“I think I’d like that.”

The guest gave 007n7 a thumbs up. He stood up, groaning a bit as he stretched, his spine popping as he relaxed. Deciding the conversation was over, the veteran gave 007n7 a firm pat on the back with a smile.

“Alright, I’ll let the others know. We’ll figure out what’s with Elliot, don’t do it alone.”

“... thanks,” the hacker mumbled, waiting for the footsteps to fade out and the main cabin door to close before allowing himself to relax, his tail unfurling as he lets the sound of the waves licking the shore whisk him away once again, thinking about Elliot, why he was so different last round, only this time, there was no one to disturb him but his own thoughts and the occasional sound of waves crashing against stone.

He exhaled, he’ll figure it out sometime.

Elliot found himself in the void again, isolated, alone. He sighed as he rubbed his face again, looking around the vast expanse that stretched endlessly. Elliot was often allowed to watch though a tv screen, watching what looked to be him, running through rounds, getting brutally slaughtered over and over again. It was gruesome, but whatever entertainment was entertainment to him, he couldn’t complain, even if he couldn’t hear anything happening.

But this was different. He got to actually participate in a round, be in the shoes of the person he was watching for the first time. It wasn’t too bad. Watching so many rounds happening sort of gave him a sense of what to do, how to work within the team. Yet still, nothing could prepare him for the adrenaline rush that left him crashed horribly. Running from the red skinned child that once terrorized his workplace, but somehow even more horrifying with his grotesque stature, and his father, who seemed strangely confused by how the pizza boy handed him a slice of pizza before he could properly ask for one despite his forgiveness.

Elliot didn’t know why 007n7 was confused by his behaviour. Though he should’ve noticed the way the Elliot he was watching didn’t seem to be friendly with him, hell he keeps throwing pizzas on the ground if he even decides to give the hacker a pizza. He supposed it made sense, 007n7 wasn’t truly very useful from what he’s seen on the tv, but the survival of his teammates were important, too. He didn’t get it.

He’s forgiven 007n7 a few years after he got blacklisted, even if he didn’t trust him not to do it again, even if he was still somewhat bitter about it, he didn't think holding a grudge would’ve been necessary. So his shock when 007n7 didn’t even remember his forgiveness. Perhaps the Elliot he was watching… doesn’t forgive him and it convinced him that he never forgave him?

It wouldn’t make sense unless the hacker had some sort of memory loss. His eyebrows furrowed as he thought of when he found 007n7 lifeless in his own home, just a few weeks after hearing about the hacker’s son, who went missing. Maybe it was his death that made him sustain memory issues, a brain injury like that… could’ve affected it, maybe whatever was holding him captive played with his memories?

His brain hurt just thinking about it.

He could’ve sworn he and the hacker had a decent relationship, with ups and downs. But 007n7 didn’t even seem to remember the ups. It was frustrating, but he couldn't blame him. That scar on 007n7’s head, it flashed in his mind, reminding him that… maybe his brain was affected by the damage, the memories he had were fuzzled. It could only make so much sense.

Elliot thought about the other survivors. He honestly didn’t know many of the others. He knew the admins, though he wasn’t a fan of them. They weren’t much help when he was still working, waiting until after the exploiters crashed his workplace before acting, never giving the workplace he grew to love and cherish the justice it really needed. But from what he observed, they were slightly more useful now that they are all trapped for survival. Then there were the others. Guest, he knew due to all the news about the guest and bacon war, Taph from articles and protests, but the others? He wasn’t too sure who they were. But he knew that the Elliot he had been watching was pretty close to that flintlock wielding gambler. His slipups were funny and all, but he couldn’t imagine wanting to risk his own life with an unreliable gun. At least the gambler was relatively useful when they did hit his shots. Then there was the strange cultist, who scared him earlier. Perhaps it was the fact that they lurked in the shadows. He wasn’t too sure.

Elliot could only hope he could learn more about them, on his own, without having to watch a soundless television.

He didn’t want to exist in a void watching an alternate version of himself form relationships for him.

He wanted to see the others for himself.

Chapter Text

Guest sat on the couch, watching as the fire flickered and hissed. He was thinking about how 007n7 had reacted to the situation, how he had resigned himself the moment he was told to leave him alone, knowing that Elliot and the hacker had a clear history together. It was just the different interactions, the way 007n7 described the previous round that Elliot was clearly in, but for some reason couldn’t remember. He didn’t talk too much to Elliot during the round outside of occasionally shadowing him, but he never witnessed the interaction between Elliot and 007n7 that caused such confusion he saw in the former exploiter. Maybe he could ask Two Time. They were watching 007n7 like they knew what was going on, though they tended to lurk in the shadows. Guest could only imagine what Two Time had seen, but he was absolutely sure they knew.

A set of footsteps brought him out of his thoughts, heavy on the toes, then easing to the heel, gentle thuds that drew out in a way Guest recognised almost instantly. He looked up to see the pizza boy standing in front of him, neutral in expression as he sat down.

There was a silence that stretched between them. Not the kind of silence Guest tends to listen to, the type that stretches when he goes out for fresh air. It was more the kind of silence that grows anticipation, waiting for someone to break it, to shatter the quiet with their voice no matter how soft they’d speak. Guest didn’t mind the quiet, only that it felt oppressive, like defusing a disguised bomb without the proper equipment. He was hoping Elliot wasn’t still pressed about the ‘conversation’ he had earlier with 007n7.

“You seem tired after making all that food,” Guest decided to comment, turning to face the delivery boy. Elliot simply sighed exasperatedly, rubbing his face, his eyebrows knitted. Guest leaned back, the veteran keeping his gaze on the blond. He knew how taxing cooking for a large household was, let alone for almost every meal, while also in preparation of giving out food during rounds. The war veteran couldn’t imagine how physically taxing it could be, cooking in such large batches so often. “Shouldn’t you be getting rest? You’ve been working on your feet for a while now. It’s a miracle you’re even standing now.”

“I’ll be in bed soon. Just… taking my mind off of… things before I finish up what I need to do in the kitchen,” Elliot mumbled back, his hand moving to brush through his tangled locks. Elliot seemed like he could use the rest, and a shower. There was flour all over him he still hasn’t gotten to clean off for his person. Guest couldn’t help but worry about how Elliot was holding up mentally. The cycle of life and death, being targeted over and over again simply for being able to heal certainly didn’t seem to be very fun, especially for Elliot, with having to take on being the medic role and all. “I’ll be alright, don’t worry too much about it.”

Guest frowned a bit, biting the inside of his cheek before he decided that Elliot wasn’t spending more time in the kitchen when he needed rest. His hand found itself resting on Elliot’s shoulder as he looked into Elliot’s eyes with a stern gaze.

“Go to bed, alright? I’ll handle the kitchen for you.”

“It’s no big deal. It’s nothing new–”

“Go to bed,” The blue haired man’s tone was firm, his grip on Elliot’s shoulder tightened slightly, still careful of any aches Elliot might’ve had. He didn’t want Elliot losing sleep on this, in fact, the sooner Elliot goes to bed, the better. “I’ll have it handled, Elliot. Just rest up, got it?”

Elliot’s lips pursed, his irritation flaring up. He just wanted things done and over with, even with the reassurance that Guest has it all handled, the pizza man just can’t seem to let go of the fact that he hasn’t finished doing what he needed to in the kitchen. Though at the same time, he was sure that Guest wouldn't budge about it unless he knew that Elliot himself would get proper sleep. He had little option but to agree.

“Fine,” his voice came out a forced calm, accepting that Guest would only be more firm with him if he kept refusing. He trusted that Guest would finish up the chores Elliot left unfinished in the kitchen and that they would be done right. He stood up, stretching his back, stifling a groan when he felt the pop. He took a few breaths before turning back to Guest, "remember to wipe the sink when you’re done with the dishes.”

Guest nodded and waved Elliot off as the pizza delivery worker slinked out of the main cabin towards his cabin. Once he was sure Elliot was off to his cabin, the soldier stood up, cracking his joints before heading over to the kitchen. The kitchen wasn’t exactly the most frequented place in the main cabin, in fact Elliot was the most likely to be found in there, followed by Shedletsky, but it was solely for frying up chicken or making sure he had enough for the next few rounds. Other than that, Guest has only noticed himself or any of the others in just doing whatever chores were needed or having a late night snack.

Guest cleared his throat to catch the attention of Taph, who was fishing through the cupboards for a snack. The demolitionist gave the veteran a wave, pulling out a small bag of chips. The shelves in the pantry seem to magically come stocked. Everyone avoided using them for purposes outside of in-round heals or postround meals, but as everyone settled in, they all realized that food seemed infinite, the shelves stocked whenever possible, the pantry brimming with snacks alongside ingredients and the fridge too fully stocked.

The demolitionist seemed rather sneaky, as the soldier noticed, though it was understandable. Guest couldn’t imagine the isolation that followed when Taph started having protestors growing violent at her home, or so he had heard. Taph never talked, Guest only knew basic sign language to be able to determine what they were trying to say. He had been getting lessons from Noob, though with the constant chaos of having to survive over and over again, running from killers, fighting them off, ensuring the safety of others, Guest could only hold onto so much information. The best he could do to understand was to find keywords of what he did remember and piece together the intended message. As much as he would like to communicate with Taph more, he could only pick up “hamburger”, “pizza”, “why” and “sad”.

“You’re talking about 007n7 and Elliot?” Taph’s nod confirmed it, Guest took a moment to think about it. Of course, Taph was by no means stupid, despite her naivety, they were a strategic genius, Guest couldn’t recall exactly how many times Taph had saved his ass with his traps. He just wanted to figure out how best to clearly explain the situation. “... well, long story short, Elliot was acting differently last round, when about ten minutes ago, he was claiming he wasn’t in the round.”

Guest was almost certain Taph wasn’t in the round. He never saw his name in the list, though considering Elliot didn’t remember being in the round, it was possible the spectre was playing tricks on all their minds, for some reason targeting 007n7.

“You weren’t in the round right?” Once again, Taph nodded, the veteran deciding to assume they were letting Guest do the talking. There was nothing Taph could write with to communicate otherwise, other than the blackboard. Guest hummed, deciding this was good enough to start asking Taph about Elliot. “I assume you haven’t seen Elliot?”

Another nod.

“Right, just wanted to make sure. The whole thing’s confusing for me too,” the veteran combed his hand through his hair, brushing the deep blue strands out of his face. “Basically, Elliot was acting weirdly nice to Seven, so when he asked Elliot about it after the round, Elliot got pissy and talked about how he didn’t remember being in the round. I talked with 007n7 earlier, I think we should probably keep an eye on Elliot in case this happens again. It’s weird having Elliot act so weirdly, especially with how he was in the round, right?.”

Taph nodded, making the signs for “look” and “pizza”. Taph likely was trying to say that she was going to keep an eye on the pizza boy too. This seemed to allow Guest to relax a bit.

“Thanks. I gotta talk to the others to make sure they’re in the loop too, I just… promised Elliot I’d wash the dishes, so I’ll get to that,” Guest turned to the sink, then back at the demolitionist, “you’re free to communicate to the others about it, too. It doesn’t matter to me, but I think most of them are planning on resting. We have to mentally prepare for the next round and all.”

Taph seemed to nod again, rushing off with the bag of chips still unopened in their hands. The war vet turned to the small pile of dishes, getting to work rinsing them, scrubbing gently at some of the debris that refused to slide off the dishes, before resting them on the rack of the dishwasher. It didn’t take too long to finish loading the dishwasher, Guest stretched again as he closed up the appliance, going to grab a towel from the oven handle to wipe the sink area. Now with nothing more to do, Guest went to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water before heading off to his cabin.

The cabin area wasn’t too shabby, honestly nice for a place used to rest the people being hunted down practically for sport, but Guest couldn’t complain. He couldn’t really say much when he had an entire cabin to himself like the other survivors. Sure, he missed living with other people, sleeping in the same area as others, it was nice having a space to himself, a luxury he never thought he could have in a place like this. The issue was that sleeping never came easy. It wasn’t that the space he had wasn’t comfortable for sleep, it was the fear of waking up immediately having to run from a killer hunting him down, not that it has happened. The Spectre seemed kind enough to allow for some to rest by the grandfather clock in the main lobby. It seemed improbable that it would send those sleeping to the round for easy pickings. Besides, there was plenty of time to rest, for the most part. Just a few hours to sleep but to Guest, it was more than enough to sleep and be ready to fight for his life.

The only problem was that Guest wasn’t one to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. In fact, guests could barely sleep at all, turning to find the right position but each one felt too wrong. Shifting from a position that put too much pressure on his shoulder to one that made him feel just weird laying like this, to laying on his stomach, everything in a desperate attempt to finally sleep. He couldn’t. Thus, Guest tossed and turned harder, hoping to wear himself out enough for him to finally sleep.

Eventually, he blinked, finding himself unrested, but the countdown to the next round had significantly diminished. Perfect, he had about 2 hours to mentally prepare before another round of running, of protecting the supports, of staying nearby the killer, risking his own life for others all for the reason that he could tank more hits. Guest didn’t mind the role he had assumed, only that he sort of wished he could do more, but shooting a gun feels unreliable, especially when he thought about every time he’s seen Chance crumple like a marionette whenever their gun explodes. Even worse was handling a sword. Shedletsky, as he’s seen in the war, was an excellent fighter and even more skilled swordsman, though Guest couldn’t really say much about his aim as of late. He wondered if his eyesight was even alright. The dagger was the most viable option but Two Time was rarely ever seen without it, if anything, Two Times seemed to have their dagger as an extension of themself at this point. It confused Guest greatly, being unable to wield any weapons but his fists. However he couldn’t exactly comment on it too much, there are people like Elliot who cannot do anything to the killer.

“Ah, you’re just in time for breakfast,” Guest looked up as he walked into the main cabin to see Elliot grinning at him, yet the way Elliot smiled, now that Guest finally began to focus seemed different. He’s seen Elliot’s smile from time to time on billboards and advertisements for Builder Brother’s but not once has he seen Elliot smile in a way that doesn’t seem to reach his eyes. Every smile on those advertisements seemed more joyous, like Elliot enjoyed the work. Though Guest assumed with the reason he had thought to himself, cooking for people and then being thrown into a fight for your life isn’t quite as enjoyable as taking orders, making and delivering pizzas. Elliot wasn’t used to the need to fight for one’s life, to deal constantly with life or death situations. “I should have made enough for everyone and extra in case anyone wants seconds. Do you want to get your portion?”

Guest grabbed the plate held out to him, approaching the kitchen counter and stovetop. The food smelled good as usual, golden, buttery toast, crisped bacon, slightly charred sausages and fluffy scrambled eggs, hell, Elliot even set aside a plate for fried eggs. Guest couldn’t imagine the work the pizza boy put into making food for all the survivors, nor could he comprehend how early Elliot must’ve been up to prepare.

“Thanks,” Guest mumbled before going in to get some food from the kitchen, a scoop of scrambled eggs, two sausages and two slices of toast before heading to the table. It seemed like one of those times where no one felt like eating at the table, it seems, there was nobody. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, but I can wait until everyone has,” the pizza boy hummed, cleaning up imaginary spills from the counter. Guest simply sighed at the brushing off of even the simplest of bodily needs. He frowned at Elliot’s insistence of not eating until everyone else does. Knowing some people, Elliot would have to wait a while. “Builderman, Dussekar and Two Time came in before you already ate.”

“You should eat too then. If the others get here last, it’s on them.”

“No, really. I’m fine, Guest.”

Guest knew he couldn’t exactly say too much more, Elliot would eat eventually and he knew this, there was enough for everyone, hell, even extras for those who want seconds. The amount of work and effort put in is simply unfathomable in the veteran’s eyes. He simply shrugged and went to eat out on the porch instead, seeing that there was no one else at the table. The exterior of the cabin was endlessly dark, always so but at the same time, it was soothing in a way, for a place where everyone is sent to be eternally damned, this was much nicer than he expected.

“Hey big guy! What’re you doing eating out here all alone?” Guest looked up to see Chance approaching the cabin steps, spinning his flintlock on his index finger. The veteran had half the mind to tell the flamboyant man off about gun safety and proper handling of the gun, knowing that he’d laugh and say something about lady luck or something similar.

“Just saw that no one was eating at the table and how people have already eaten. I thought it would be nice to eat outside.”

“Got ya’,” Chance clicked his tongue, putting his gun in the holster and pointing finger guns at Guest before walking into the cabin, leaving the soldier back in his thoughts. Chance seemed pretty close to Elliot, maybe he could ask Chance to keep an eye on Elliot, since he’d notice the differences better, right? Though he isn’t 100% sure just how keen Chance is on the whole observing Elliot thing.

As though Chance had timed his re-entry when Guest’s thoughts spiralled too much, he came back out with his half eaten plate of food, sitting down between Guest and the railing, leaning on it.

“So, Guest, my man! I hope you don’t mind me sitting here, thought you could use some company, y’know?” Chance allowed for some time for Guest to nod, pausing for a brief moment before continuing. “You know how little ol’ me gets all quirky and ends up dying first because I get a little unlucky with my gun? Mind letting me know what happened that round? That argument with the hacker and Ells didn’t seem too pretty.”

Guest simply hummed, leaving back as he stabbed a sausage with his fork, rolling it around before speaking up.

“So Elliot was acting weird.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“He was actively insisting that Seven should get healed even after what he did and that he forgave him. Then when Seven confronted Elliot later, he sort of… flipped out and got pissy about not remembering the round and all.”

Chance blinked as he took in the information.

“So you’re saying Elli’s been having some form of amnesia?”

“Something of the sort. I don’t really know. I was wondering if I could ask you to maybe watch Elliot? Just to see if you notice anything strange.”

“Aye aye, captain. Don’t think that’ll be too big of an ask for me,” Chance held two of his fingers to his temple in a mock salute. Guest just smiled at the gambler as the other gave him a firm pat on the back as he went ahead and began eating, savouring the eggs first, looking to have been doused in maple syrup. It was a strange eating quirk of Chance, though Guest reasoned with himself, savoury often paired well with sweet, anyway. Besides, it wasn’t the first time he’s seen Chance do this.

“Great. I’ll be counting on you.”

“It’s no issue. I mean, getting to the root of whatever the hell’s wrong with our resident pizza boy is pretty important, if you know what I mean,” Chance grinned, leaning back as though putting a little too much trust into his sense of balance. Guest’s hand gently reached out, hovering behind Chance in case he fell backwards. “Is anyone else aware of this? Well, you know, besides Seven and you?”

Guest thought for a moment, as though recalling who else he talked to after that argument. He confronted the hacker right after the argument, albeit rather one sided… then there was also Taph, who seemed to be alright with letting the others know, however the issue was, the soldier quite literally doesn’t know if they knew.

“I know that Seven and Taph know. I’m not sure about anyone else.”

“Huh,” Chance hummed, nodding slowly, “well I’ll be sure to keep watch, can’t have anything bad happening to our favourite chef.”

Guest sighed fondly when Chance nudged his shoulder with a wink. The gambler himself was insufferable, but his energy made up for all the times he’s blown himself up. He supposed he had empathy for those times, dying to a blast not intended to be directed at himself. He could only imagine the frustration that came with each explosion.

They sat in a comfortable silence, besides the flicking of Chance’s coin and scraping of forks on plates. Sometimes Guest wondered if Chance ever put his coin down, or why he let the coin decide his fate instead of, say, a die. Though Guest could logically reason with himself that a coin is much easier to keep in his hands and to continuously roll stacks and stacks of charges.

“So Chance, I’ll go see if I can find and talk to anyone before the round to see if they’re going to also keep an eye on Elliot. The more eyes, the better,” Guest stood up, popping his spine before he went to place his dishware into the sink for later washing after the round, Chance humming in response, shoving his face full of syrup doused eggs. “Let’s… just hope this isn’t the only time this kind of confusion happens, understanding the situation is probably the best for our team.”

Chance nodded, headed off to put his empty plate in the sink before the round started.

Checking the time, Guest sighed. He was mostly ready enough to face whoever the Spectre threw their way. He just hoped the team could pull together just long enough to survive.

The glitching and the giggling made Guest aware of the danger of not being fully aware. The first thing he did was look for the others, checking if anyone else was better suited for the generators, which Noob seemed to be able to handle just fine. Though 007n7 didn;t seem to be there. Good. He figured Seven needed some time to think, perhaps. He didn’t know the hacker well enough anyway, he wasn’t too sure of what the hacker did when he wasn’t being chased around. Besides, he doubted 007n7 would’ve enjoyed seeing the aftermath of what he had done in the past, knowing how he tried to make amends with Elliot.

“Ey, Guest’s finally joined the party? Thought he might’ve gotten lost,” He heard Chance’s voice break through the silence, his shades glinting in firelight. Guest simply rolled his eyes, adjusting his gloves. He couldn’t take them off during rounds unless he wanted to be criminally underdressed, that being, in his pyjamas. It’s happened once, Guest would rather not go through the embarrassment of wearing just his pyjamas again. “Ell’s over there, somewhere. Thought it would be best if you were the one who’s nearby since you can take more hits and all.”

Guest followed the direction in which Chance pointed his gun, a strange way to point, but the gambler had a tendency of doing… unorthodox things. It wasn’t his place to judge, no one could die permanently, thus there is nothing they could really do at this point, really. Chance could take the round as seriously as he wants to.

“Right. Thanks,” the soldier nodded, rushing his way down, keeping ears out for the pizza boy and with his luck, he found Elliot, knelt over a generator, hands diligently connecting wires. Then he heard it, the distinctive glitching buzz of the generator, one that helped Noli rather than them. His stance changed immediately, ensuring that the coast was clear as he spoke up, catching the healer’s attention.

“Elliot. Get off the generator, it’s a fake.”

The pizza boy looked up at the veteran, raising an eyebrow as he let go of the wires, which snaked back into their panel. He stood up and huffed a bit, seeming a bit upset at the aid. Guest noted that this wasn’t too different from the behaviour he witnessed already, just slightly more pissy. He could only assume due to the argument.

“I would’ve figured it out eventually, you know?”

“But by then, you could get yourself injured under the influence of his tricks. And he’ll know where you are.”

Elliot pursed his lips, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought of something to fire back at Guest. Elliot seemed more irritated than he'd realized, though he could’ve only assumed that Elliot was upset that he was right. Though it would be fair if the delivery boy had already been affected by the hallucinations induced by Noli. The tricker deity seemed to enjoy tormenting particularly Elliot of not 007n7. Whether Noli had any relation with either men, Guest didn’t know. But there seemed to be some sort of hierarchy between survivors on who Noli tended to bug the most. While Guest was glad he wasn’t the main person Noli sought entertainment from, some of the most integral members of the team were and it often led to Guest seeing firsthand what sort of tricks the god enjoyed and who it was often targeted towards. But it didn’t stop Noli from making a laugh out of him. Guest couldn't even count the number of times he was stared at as though he had lost his mind when he charged at a non-existent killer. That in itself was embarrassing enough.

Guest stayed near, ensuring that if Elliot were to get hurt, at the very least, Elliot would know how real it would be. The hallucinations were tricky, but they were best when at least one other person was there.

“I don’t want you getting hurt too bad, Elliot. The rest of us need you alive," the slight furrow of the eyebrows on Elliot’s face was obvious. Guest simply chuckled, patting Elliot firmly on the back. The pizza boy simply rolled his eyes playfully, expression softening at the lighthearted gesture. “It’s important to me that you understand your value in our team.”

“Yeah,” Elliot exhaled, adjusting his visor, a halfhearted grin rested strained in his lips. He wasn’t too sure about what else to really do other than keeping an eye out for generators and monitoring the status of his teammates. There isn’t much else he can really do at the moment other than wait and hope he’s close enough to an injured survivor to help out his team. “Gotta make sure everyone’s alive and kicking.”

“You got it, Elliot.”

The round itself was surprisingly not as horrible as he thought. Noli was an incredibly tricky killer, being a god who created illusions and all that, but he didn't seem to be too keen on actively killing people… though he wouldn’t trust killers leaving things free, since he’s seen Slasher get irritated when people try to get free hits while he was simply wanting to have a calm round and proceeds to obliterate the entire group within minutes. Knowing Noli, it could be a gamble whether he would end up attempting to wipe the entire server out or decide that killing was too boring to kill and try to switch it up. Guest would never really know.

The distorted melody that seemed to approach the duo told Guest that he was about to find out very soon.

“Elliot,” the pizza boy looked over at Guest in response, “Do you hear that?”

The confusion on the healer’s face was all he needed to know. Guest braced against Elliot, careful not to rely too much on the pizza boy as he waited out the illusion. Elliot’s concerned expression was clear as he watched Guest clutch his arm from an invisible wound. Guest gritted his teeth, phantom pain sending shocks through his nerves, electric in the worst ways, then exhaled, reminding himself that if Elliot isn’t running, he isn’t supposed to be wasting his energy on a mirage. Elliot kept him steady as Guest limped to the unsolved generating, listening to it buzzing and glitching out, an etch of the familiar horrible grin lay subtly engraved into the metal of the false machine. He grunted, biting back cries of pain, gripping the generator as Elliot kept him upright, to ensure Guest doesn’t collapse as for a soldier, Guest still has his limits. He hoped that perhaps he’d have a break, that the spectre would show pity and allow for him to stay back without being thrown headfirst into another death match.

The mirage disappeared as a laughing image of Noli echoes in the back of his mind, drawing his attention back to the reality they’ve been placed in. It was still early, the clock ticked by, seconds bleeding into minutes without the timer decreasing. They had to work fast. Guest looked at the blond, eyebrows quirking inwards.

“You didn’t have to stay here.”

“I’d rather you not… walk while you’re feeling like you’re getting skin torn from your body.”

Guest just snorted at the response, though the quiver in his grin agreed with Elliot’s statement.

It seemed that the pain that bloomed in his side agreed, too.

Distorted giggling and a sinister voice drowning out panicked cries was all he needed to know that the pain he was feeling was real this time, not some terrible illusion he had just fought off.

“How pi-i-iteous to [SEE], thy conscien-n-nce corr-rr-upted,” Noli chuckled, tentacle slithering back into his wrist, void star pulsating as it recoiled, glowing menacingly. Elliot stepped back, preparing a slice in case Guest failed to counter the trickster. “The belief that [THY] soul be pure, now rot’d-d-d beneath [TERROR], now horro-or-rr-r to fl-e-ee-e-ee from me, hah! I don’t think-k-k so, sol-l-l-ldier.”

Guest’s racing mind ran into instinct, arms raising over his face as he watched the void star disappear, making way for the beginnings of the familiar tendril glinting in the edge of his vision.

Thud. THWACK

He felt the firm, harsh weight of a hit before he spun, gaining momentum for his heel to dig into the killer’s side. Just for good measure, he dug his feet into the ground. A guttural cry ripped from his throat as he charged into the now disoriented killer, pushing them away, ensuring Elliot could run. He huffed as he whipped his brow, turning to the pizza boy, nodding.

"Do you act-t-tu-ually [THINK] y-y-you can defe--ee-eat me?"

Guest rushed over, grabbing Elliot by the wrist and dragging him off, focusing on the sound of their footsteps crunching the grass, adrenaline dripping from their skin like sponges taken out of a basin, leaking from their pores, slowly seeping into the fabric of their shirts, ingraining themselves further into the muddied fibres. They only had so much time before the killer was back on their feet, readying more and more tricks to play with their minds.

They prepared themselves a little too late.

Both men were pushed back from a nearby generator as electricity crackled, an echoey, mocking laugh blared into the endless night as the tricker god giggled. They both ran, instinct refuting any communication they had with one another. It was instead survival, nothing more. A force pulled the two of them back as Guest felt an impact ram into his back, stealing a choked gasp from his lips. He couldn’t even manage to get back up and process Noli readying up again before he was run into again, groaning in pain as he was promptly slammed into the ground by Noli.

“Elliot-” he barely managed to sputter before Noli’s tendril embedded itself into his skin again, burning like alcohol poured directly in his wounds as he was harshly pulled forwards, sliding just perfectly under Noli’s bony foot as he felt the impact, hurt shooting through his nerves as he felt the solid of his bones give to the crushing weight with a crack. The last thing he witnessed as his vision faded out was Noli turning to someone else, Elliot, readying his void rush.

Dusekkar was the first person Guest saw when his eyes shot open. He groaned as residual back pain coursed through his bones, electrocuting his nerves. The admin hovered close, a bony hand held out for Guest to grab.

“Your performance was not horrid at all, for evading the trickster, the task is quite tall,” the fire in the warlock’s head glowed with the comfort of a lantern in his cabin he used to ward the dark. It never failed to put Guest’s woes at ease. The veteran grabbed Dusekkar’s hand, standing himself up so that he could stretch out the residual aches from the round. “Though aside from that, there are woes I’ve noticed, may I ask what’s got you unfocused?”

Guided to the couch, Guest let his muscles sink into the pillows as the pumpkin headed wizard sat beside him. There was a sort of silence between them that seemed all encompassing without drowning everything else out. It was nice, living in the same space as someone, without having to invade, without having to break the carefully constructed silence. But Guest knew for a fact that what Dusekkar was hoping under the veil, was an answer to Guest’s poor performance.

“Elliot’s acting weird,” Guest managed to say, brushing a hand through his hair. He had to admit, it clouded his mind, surely, but at the same time, he also wanted to focus on ensuring Elliot was okay. “I got too focused on watching Elliot, I’ll admit I wasn’t watching our surroundings.”

“It was strange behaviour that had your focus skewed? Is it an aid in observation needed that you allude?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to have more eyes. I talked to Chance, Taph and Seven about it, I just don’t know if everyone else knows. It would be better if everyone knows, at least, so we know what’s going on.”

“I see, it’s unity in knowledge you seek,” Dusekkar hummed thoughtfully, pushing up his glasses as he spoke. The flame in his head flickered in thought. “Very well, I’ll have the others know when we speak. But for now, I believe you should rest, I doubt the situation hasn’t left you stressed. Relaxation and rest comes before your teammates. They too can handle even the nastiest of fates.”

Guest’s worries weren’t quite quelled, but he knew Dusekkar was doing his best to ensure he wasn;t taking it too hard on himself, which he appreciated. The admins seemed much more mellow and approachable when they were, well, here, unable to use the full extents of their abilities, or that’s what he’s heard. His parents had told several stories about how the admins were all powerful, seeing as they are the higher ups, managing moderation of servers, ensuring Robloxia itself wasn’t on the verge of collapse. He was wondering what’s happening back at home, if they were to come back out, would there be a place to go back to?

Guest wasn’t sure, those thoughts ate at him since he landed here.

“Dusekkar.”

The pumpkin headed admin turned to Guest, tilting it, reminiscent of a deer analyzing danger.

“Can you also make sure the others know of the situation? I don’t want anyone thinking they’re not in the loop. They deserve to be, too.”

“This I am aware,” the mage responded thoughtfully. Guest cursed quietly to himself, Dusekkar did say that he was going to talk to the others about it, regardless. “Though, for Elliot, beware. If observation is to prevent disorder, we must ensure everyone is to stay in order.”

Guest could only nod. It was really the best they could think of. Elliot’s change in behaviour not only sparked curiosity but also began to breed grounds for disputes and confusion amongst the careful teamwork they managed to weave despite their differences. The idea of that would be detrimental to their whole dynamic, the strategies they stitched together depending on the people placed into the rounds, the roles they would give each survivor, the careful bond that everyone had with one another, or at least the bonds that Guest had, they could all fall apart if there is no coordination between everyone.

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying.”

“Don’t forget the words you recite to us, to be strong is to work through even a fuss. Though now, I advise that you seek rest in your cabin. I doubt an intact mentality after that death would happen.”

Guest couldn’t say any better words. In fact, it was difficult to really think of anything else to say, let alone converse about. He simply nodded, standing up, groaning in protest to his aching muscles. He quietly wished Dussekar a nice rest before heading out to the main cabin and back to his, seeking sleep, but not before turning back to the wizard. He wanted to ensure Dusekkar got the takeaway of their little chat.

“Remember to let them know, please.”

Dusekkar’s nod was all he needed to find a peaceful rest.

Chapter Text

Watching carefully from where he stood, Elliot couldn’t help but notice that his doppelganger was strange, almost uncanny how he replicates Elliot so well yet so far off. He’s been observing them for god knows how long, but the fact that there were few changes to them since Elliot had first decided to really observe them was scary.

The bonds they formed, the positive relationship with the admins, with Guest 1337, Chance, the cultist. It felt surreal. He had never seen himself getting very close with these sorts of people. But watching the daily come and go of the admins checking in, Builderman himself seemingly more often than the others, Dusekkar using his magic from time to time, showing him minor tricks that he can’t seem to perform in rounds and Shedletsky joking around, or so he assumed, he couldn’t hear much. What frustrated him was that he couldn’t hear much of what was happening, relying on visual cues to decipher what was being said.

With Chance, he had been somewhat aware as someone who owned one of the biggest casinos in Robloxia. He didn’t expect to have a positive relationship with the gambler, but from the looks of it, Chance seemed to enjoy the company. Two Time was a different story, they seemed to cling onto the fact that their pizzas healed. They seemed, from Elliot’s observations, a little detached from the reality they face, only that Elliot had no idea why. This drove him mad, being unable to see what his clone saw in these people, leaving him guessing like some clueless detective. He was no Sherlock Holmes.

He longed to truly get to know some of these people the way his doppelganger did. He almost felt jealous.

Perhaps whatever is keeping him here allows for him to do just that.

The familiar clink of the coin flipping in the air, landing in his palm, Chance didn’t look, opening his eyes just to peek at the result. Tails. Again. He could’ve sworn Lady Luck stopped supporting him the moment he landed into this god forsaken place, that they forgot all that meant to be lucky the moment they woke up into a normal that was running around and shooting killers in hopes the gun doesn’t explode on him. Perhaps he should’ve stopped loading the gun with more powder.

Old habits die hard, Chance had come to know. The harsh reality that not everything ends with a big win slapped him harder than any single blow from any of the killers could hit while his bones felt brittle and his muscles too weak to support his weight if he was even breathed on.

It was all for some sick thrill, that exhilarating rush that came from the satisfaction of eagerly waiting for that one in a million odds to tilt ever so slightly in your favour. Chance had chased, come to terms with and even cradled it in his hands before pressing it to the side of his temple, the thrill. From watching machines whir, cards get shuffled skillfully and even the little tinge of focus he observed amongst other players who ever so slightly squint their eyes as though if they focused enough they could sway Lady Luck herself into giving them her favour. Chance always believed she was much more fond of them than the others.

Oh how wrong they were.

Chance’s eyes narrowed, as though if he squinted and focused on the coin enough, he wouldn’t have to think about the lack of luck he had, that instead, it would land on heads. He can’t seem to be able to use their gun unless he counted just how many times the coin landed on heads since he last shot, fully incapable of giving themself the proper confidence to do so otherwise. Could he even call it luck? Perhaps it was simply some sick idea of confidence based on the probabilities of getting something he believed signified that chance was in their favour. Was Chance ever willing to play with probabilities without superstition first?

No. They knew that. Their hand shakes too much each time they even try to do it without the reassurance that Lady Luck was there, even if she was someone supernatural, an eldritch being beyond their comprehension, it was the comfort they sought, that was all he wanted.

Clink.

Heads. Chance’s heart lurched, the eyes engraved into the piece of metal staring back into his shades, a wild grin stretched his lips. A gentle buzz rumbled in the back of his brain, ever so slightly pleasant, something Chance had always seeked. The rush was addictive, it got his blood flowing, from feeling stagnant to elated in seconds. The coin clinked again, though even the few tails that landed didn’t seem to dampen his excitement, instead it only raised hopes for the next heads.

Heads again, and a third time. If they weren’t already moving to seek the killer, they would’ve practically collapsed from just how hard their heart beat, the way it slammed into his ribs like it was begging to escape. It was almost as though his heart was trying to tear through their sternum and display itself across the burning grass that crumpled under his weight. They didn’t care. They couldn’t when all their confidence is put into their ability to aim, to help people out, to be a substantial part of the team they implemented themself in when everyone was counting on them. Counting on them to be someone useful, to be something more than just another name to their vocabulary.

In their rushed daze, Chance noted the quick ticking then an explosion nearby. Either Taph’s bomb got detonated by Noli or the bomb detonated itself. Regardless, the gambler jogged over to the site, gaining view of the masked killer as he raised their gun, closing their left eye to aim and-

BANG!

The angry static sputtered and screeched around Noli, giving Chance the que to leave, to flee the scene of the crime before the purple killer caught up. As their legs grew heavier, he checked the status. Guest was already gone, dead, they've come to note. Builderman and Taph seem fine, Elliot had Shedletsky or Two Time that could provide more close range defence while Noob could fend for themself. Chance had none of that. The only advantage they could have is distance, to stun from afar. Though at the same time, they didn’t really know if the two other sentinels knew about the whole observation thing.

Rapid footsteps caught up to him, heaving as though their lungs failed to keep up. The quick pace of a second set of steps following suit. Change barely managed to turn around when Elliot was unceremoniously shoved into them. Grunting from the impact, feeling the grass stab into his skin through his blazer, he knew he had to act fast, grabbing Elliot and pulling him away as Noli prepared to charge at the two of them again.