Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dead, colorless leaves crunch underfoot, their brittle bodies being crushed into dust beneath your worn out sneakers. You breathe in the cool air. You died again. They killed you. The chill in the air cuts deep into your bones, your small jacket you came here with does little to help insulate you. The dead forest around seems to bend and twist, strangling itself with its branches. The large sticks create a canopy overhead. Like a net, trapping a poor animal underneath. but you are no animal, just an unfortunate victim. The space around you grows colder the deeper into the forest you travel. It’s a warning, You shouldn’t be here. You should be at the survivor camp.

But you are as safe out here as you are at the camp, your ‘curse’ as you like to call it places a target on your head. Your death grants reward. whoever’s hand steals your life is later gifted by the entity an item from the real world. An item from the person’s memory of their life, however much they may remember. Memories are precious here. The Entity likes to steal them away until you forget who you once were.

Why you were given this curse is beyond you, some of the survivors speculated that you were brought into the fog as an incentive for the killers, a reward for doing their job well. But what the Entity must not have expected is that the survivors would gladly turn their hand on a fellow teammate. You were still new when a few found out, you had just entered your fifth trial. Still confused and afraid, you seeked out your fellow survivors. They begged you to let them try, that if it worked they could get the upper hand. They promised they would do it fast. They promised it would only be once… Unfortunately for you, your curse works no matter who kills you, assigned killer or not.

That's when you assume things started to change. The masks they made for themselves melted away. Their true colors showing. They asked to do it a few more times after that, every time you declined, and they begrudgingly listened. And then, they stopped asking. You didn't know what happened the first time, you were working alone at a generator when you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head before everything went black. When you awoke, you were no longer in trial. Entering the campfire you didn't think too much about it when David was showing everyone the rugby ball he “found” last trial. Every time after that, you got to watch yourself be killed by those who were supposed to be on your team. It started as only a select few, and then they convinced more. You're not sure what made them break whatever morals they may have had. Perhaps it was an addiction to that nostalgic feeling of finding something you remember from your past. Or maybe it's simple greed. But after all, is a human life ever worth less than an object?

Yours is.

For a while you wondered how some of the more ‘sane’ survivors were able to be convinced to turn a blind eye at the betrayal of one of their own. In the end, you could only assume it was through threats and manipulation, after all Jeff tried for a long time to convince you that you were being selfish, that you’d “come back anyway.”. At least when they killed you it was fast, and didn’t feel like an eternity on a rusty meat hook. It was swift and in most cases almost painless. Well… until it wasn’t. Boredom is among some of the most common feelings in the fog, boredom is dangerous. It influences erratic and risky behavior and-

You sound like you're a teacher giving a lecture, when did YOU become so boring?

You audibly sigh, trying to remember where in your jumbled up mess of thoughts you left off and what you were trying to get at.

…

…

…

At one point, they must have gotten bored of the same old ‘object to the head’. Not only were they getting more creative with their ways of killing you every trial, a few have even started drawing out your pain. Taking the time to bruise you up before collecting their reward. Not everyone goes out of their way to kill you of course. Although they don’t try to stop it either, preferring not to get in the way and them too, facing the wrath of angry survivors like David.

A small bunch completely disagrees with the way you are treated, speaking out on multiple occasions on the inequality and abuse you were being projected too. Survivors like Zarina, Kate, and Quintin to name a few, try to help when they can. You appreciate them more than anything for that, but it makes you feel guilty. Guilty that you’re such a useless part of the team in trials.

Recently you’ve simply been hiding in trials, You’ve honestly had no choice, you die more to survivors than to the killers! Maybe you’re just petty, maybe you really are selfish, but you’d rather be pierced through the chest, and choke on your own blood than die to greedy hands who will be granted reward by your demise. So far, this strategy has worked, so long as you can hide before you run into anyone. Survivor or killer, you avoid them all the same. Hunched behind large boulders, creeping along the edges of the trial grounds. You don’t give generators a second thought, ignoring them no matter how out of the way they are from the action. You feel guilty every time someone is hooked, but that doesn’t rouse you from your hiding. You can’t be seen. You rarely escape a trial with your life, only when the hatch opens right beside you. But usually you aren’t so lucky, and the Entity’s claws, shaped like a spider’s leg, are what you see last piercing your insides, before waking up back at the edge of the campfire.

You wonder if the killers notice the absence of a survivor in their trials. You wonder if they hate you too. You know your cowardice agitates the other survivors, especially the ones that hunt you. But what do the killers think from their perspective? How long do they roam around a near empty trial, searching for the last survivor, going from generator to generator in hopes of finally being able to finish the trial. Do they hear your screams at the end of the endgame timer? Do they know why you hide? No, probably not. And you don’t want them too. You don’t need to give them another reason to specifically hunt you. You doubt the killers need a reward for shedding MORE blood. After all it seems hiding may have pissed at least a few of the killers off, on the off chance the killer finds you before a survivor does. They don’t stop chasing you until you’re downed, and then you’re pushed much rougher than necessary onto the cold metal of a meat hook where you can quickly put yourself into struggle and be pierced by the Entity’s strange arachnid legs. Sometimes you don’t get the Pleasure of a fast demise. Sometimes you’re moried as soon as you're downed, the killer's frustration visible in the way they draw your death out just a little longer than usual.

A crow caws somewhere distant, pulling you out of thought, the sound reverberating through the dead trees. Looking up at what little sky you can see through the branch canopy, some ways ahead of you a flock, or you suppose a murder, of crows are soaring through the cloudless sky. The small black birds are flying fast, who knows where, you almost want to think they were spooked by something, but that is not a train of thought you want to get stuck on. The whole sight looks like a painting, their black body’s against the perpetually dusk sky. You lose the birds as they leave the deep oranges and purples in the center of the sky and enter a starry maze of dark blue off to the side. You let your head lower back to what’s in front of you, the scenery never once changing. Always the same dead forest, shrouded in fog, with eyes watching through the dark. But not eyes you have to worry about. Just the Entity’s Little feathery spies.

Despite the cold you do prefer to be out here, mostly, alone. Death outside of trials is always met with harsh punishment from the Entity, for killer or survivor. Unfortunately pain itself doesn’t count, anyone could make you bleed here, so long as you don’t die they can torture you here as much as they do inside trials. Wounds gained out here regenerate into debuffs in the next trial, some survivors call it the ‘no mither’ effect. It’s one reason why the survivors stay far away from where the killers reside even out of trial. You didn’t come into the fog with much. Just the clothes on your back and a few items that were in your tiny Bag. your hand brushes against the rough bark of the dead trees as you groan. This place actually fucking sucks. Excitingly enough however, you have realized that some items can be snuck and kept outside of a trial. You try to steal a new book from the RPD library whenever possible.

The quiet is interrupted by the soft sound of running water and your face visibly brightens at the sound. Recently during your after-trial mope sessions, you’ve been going farther and farther into the forest. Even more recently however, you’ve come across a wide river that seems to separate survivor territory from killers. Although on none of your trips so far, have you come across any unwanted faces, it’s always just you and the crows. You've followed the river until it disappeared into the thick, impenetrable wall of fog that acts as the barrier, or rather, cage of this realm. An interesting find you did make however, was that on both ends of the river there is an old, decrepit, wooden bridge. From what you can remember of each, they are near identical copies of one another. How or why they are there is beyond you, no one ever crosses sides as far as you know. You’ve definitely never crossed the river, you’re too afraid of who you might run into.

Just ahead you can see the opening to the small clearance of trees surrounding the river. You hesitate at the threshold of trees, peering at the other side of the river. You see no one. Neither bridge is in sight so you know you’re somewhere in the middle of the river. Finally emerging through the safety the shadows provide, you walk slowly up to the river. The current is rapid. water climbs up the sides, turning dirt into mud. You crouch just in front of the running water, careful not to slip on the moist soil. The water is crystal clear, just like the small ponds at the Yamaoka Estate. You feel a little bit lighter, staring at your warped reflection in the water. You look tired.

…

You are tired.

You reach forward, flexing your hand so the water can run between your fingers. The water is ice cold, the chill cuts deep into your palm. The feeling of the water rushing past your hand is peaceful. You inhale a deep breath, the fresh smell of moss and foliage a welcome difference from the choking smoke you inhale at the campfire. You create small ripples in the water, gliding your fingers through the current.

A flap of wings is heard before a crow lands directly across from you on the other side of the river. You tilt your head up to look at it, withdrawing your hand from the icy water. The crows' large black eyes stare up at you. It caws inquisitively, small head tilting slightly. You hum softly in admiration, crows really are a beautiful bird despite being completely black. You continue to study the crow as it hops about the mud, pecking at moist soil.

Do the crows get hungry?

You haven’t been hungry in a long time.

The bird's feathers are glossy, almost soft looking. Its beak is sharp and its eyes are unblinking. The bird ruffles and fluffs its feathers, puffing its chest in confidence, and you’d like to think it did that because it knows you’re admiring its beauty. You can’t stop a small smile from reaching your face, at least the Entity takes good care of its pets. The bird's gaze lands back on you and you stare back. Its eyes shine with knowledge you’ll never understand. The bird makes a noise in the back of its throat, stepping a little closer to the water separating you two.

Hmm..

Well it’s worth a try.

You hold out your hand. The crow tilts it’s head. You give a short whistle, beckoning the bird towards you. It inches forward, and you hold your breath. It hunches, body tensing in preparation for flight. You stay deathly still, hand outreached so the bird can perch. It’s going to happen, the bird spreads it’s wings. You’ve never held a bird before, this is so cool! You lean slightly closer, the bird hops to the edge of the river, it’s wings flap down and-

A twig snaps to your left.

You flinch, there’s a startled caw and in an instant the crow is gone. Disappearing into the shadows of the forest. You rise from your crouched position slowly, your outstretched hand falling back to your side. Tilting your head to look farther left, you see it. A figure walking along the tree line, following the river. The Pig, you think the survivors call her. The name seems fitting because right now, a long pig snout is faced in your direction. You freeze like you've been caught trespassing.

…

Does she see you?

…

Does she always wear that mask outside of trials?

….

..Ew..

You can answer that first thought, yes. She most definitely sees you. Your head follows her steps until she stops parallel with you, body shifting to stare at you with her full attention. your eyes narrow as you take in her appearance. Her red waistcoat stops just inches from the dirt floor, it's honestly a mystery how the coat is so clean despite being dragged on the ground every time she’s crouched. It seems her blue cargo pants aren’t as lucky. The are bottoms caked in dried mud, the stiff fabric clinging to her black boots.

You can’t see her eyes, the pig mask, carcass? You're not sure, but it covers every bit of her face. Can she even breathe in that thing? It must be a mask, pigs don’t usually have a full head of hair after all. Unless it’s neither and that’s actually just her face… no, that’s crazy even for this realm. She takes a step forward and your gaze lingers on her sleeve. Is she armed? You know her weapon is usually strapped to her wrist, but you can’t see anything past the red sleeve.

…

Another step.

…

Your eyes meet her hidden ones.

…

You aren’t near any bridge, she wouldn’t cross the river just to get to you. Right? Maybe you’re underestimating a killer’s lust for blood. You want to run, your legs twitch with the need to move but you force yourself to stay still. Do not run. Running will only prove you are afraid, running might induce chase.

She can’t get you.

you are allowed here.

Stand your ground.

You’re wrong.

You see a small amount of head movement. She’s Looking you up and down, sizing you up maybe. You feel bare underneath her gaze, you wish you could see her face. She takes another slow step towards the river bed and you clench your fists tightly, she’s approaching like you’re a wild animal. The whole forest seems to hold its breath. Neither of you speak, if she even can. You only move to tighten your jacket around you, the chill starting to seep back in with your lack of movement. You think you hear a sound come from the Pig, but if you did it’s already drowned by the Continuous silence of the forest.

She has to be messing with you, she won’t cross.

You are exactly on the riverbed, small amounts of water splash up and hit your shoes. Maybe you should back up a few steps. Your mind feels overloaded in the face of danger, every command your head gives you ties itself into a giant knot. Your head feels heavy, you don’t know what happens next. She’s close To the edge now, close to you, closer than you should have let her get.

Run

Run

Run

She takes one last cautious step and that’s finally what does it for you. You inhale sharply and recoil, retreating a few steps back. Your hands are held together in front of your chest, your narrowed eyes now wide with a surge of panic. But The Pig is stopped at the riverbed, body stiff and head now tilted slightly. You feel her gaze raking over your form and a shiver travels down your spine. You turn and run. Back into the forest. Back into the dark.

You think you might have heard a grunt. You look back only once, just as you reach the forest's threshold. Her arms are crossed, gaze zeroed on your retreat. You look back ahead of you, and you don't look back again. Your feet trips over sticks and dead leaves but you don’t falter, running until the Entity’s black smoke starts to surround you.

A telltale sign that you're being taken into a trial.

Chapter Text

Your body is lifeless and rigid. Black fog fills your lungs but you don’t choke. You can’t breathe, but you don’t need to. It feels like you're falling, your body is weightless. It’s that feeling of all the organs in your body shifting, like the drop of a roller coaster. Your eyes must be closed because everything is dark. If you wanted to open your eyes, you couldn’t. Every part of you feels cold. The impenetrable fog starts to part. You can see. You can breathe. You can feel the ground beneath your feet and your organ’s placement are once again held still by gravity. The only thing that doesn’t change is the cold, that never seems to change. Blinking your tired eyes, you take in your surroundings.

The grass is green and overgrown. The soil is slightly damp underfoot. A large tree, which you assume is maple, shades you with its leaves. But there is no sun. The sky is a deep purple hue, there are no clouds and no stars. Turning around, you’re met with the large temple-like shrine only a few meters away. The red Japanese style arch’s hold oil lit lamps, bringing a little light into the map. The structure of the shrine itself is stone, moss and cracks being a sign that this monument is long old. Sacred.

Beside the staircase are bamboo stalks and an army of mossy statues, the design is simple, their faces lacking much detail apart from the large hollow eyes. The design is the same for every statue, as if copy and pasted. You swear they follow your movement. 

Well it’s obvious that you’re in the Yamaoka Estate, your sixth sense gives you an exact title. ‘Sanctum of Wrath’. You’ve been here before, and you’re starting to recognize patterns in map generation. If you remember correctly, the weather-worn steps lead to a generator atop the shrine, as well as a pallet and some vault points. But you have no interest in doing your task right now. You need to hide. Unfortunately for you, you’re exactly in the middle of the trial grounds. At least you didn’t spawn with anyone else. Sixth sense lets you know Ace, Nancy, and… David are your teammates. 

Great…

You're going to die.

You decide to go the opposite way of the shrine. Ducking behind the tree and using what you can to hide your presence as you walk. Get to the trial wall and find a big rock to hide behind. That’s your plan. Pathetic. The small amount of foliage and overall lack of cover makes you hypervigilant. Your ears strain to try and pick up any sound, but all you hear are distant caws. You pass an empty generator just as another one is completed, definitely scaring a few years off your life. 

You'll be here forever.

You're not sure how far you are from the wall but you must be close at this point. A part of you wonders who the killer is, you haven’t heard any sounds that would give you a hint of who it might be. Not the roar of a chainsaw, nor the toll of a bell. Nancy was injured not too long ago, her scream cutting through the mist. She still hasn’t been downed so she must have gotten away. It’s hard to hide when you’ve already been found. You haven’t seen anyone yet. Not even another survivor. You need to hurry if you want to keep it that way. You speed walk through a pallet, only to pause when movement catches in your peripheral. You look down and meet a pair of beady black eyes.

…

…

Is that a raccoon?

Its body is stocky, sporting short, strong limbs. Its posture is relaxed, small furry head tilted up at you. dense, thick fur is surprisingly clean and free of knots, unlike your own. The brown parts of its fur has a slightly reddish tint, which makes sense assuming the region the Yamaoka Estate was pulled from. But nothing in the Entity’s realm is normal. Sprouting from the creature's back are red, stick-like appendages that vary in shape and size. The raccoon chitters softly, and you notice a part of its furry chest is a glowing red. How interesting. you haven’t seen many animals in trials, only the horse in Father Campbell's Chapel, and the crows that go everywhere in the Entity’s world. Wonder how it got here, maybe it was lured into the fog just like you. Maybe it’s one of the Entity’s personal creations. 

You’d love to stay and analyze each other, but it’s lucky enough you haven’t been found yet already. So with a solemn sigh that you have to leave the cute creature, you spare it one last long stare and turn. Continuing your track to ‘safety’. you think survivors are winning, so far Nancy has been hit and is still injured somewhere. Ace was hooked twice, but he was saved and healed shortly after both times. Two generators have been completed and you’ve heard one explosion of a failed skill check. You still have no idea on who the killer is and-

A heartbeat.

You jolt, quickly looking around. There’s a few trees, a jungle gym, and two lockers. Shit. Where should you go? The heartbeat grows stronger and you don’t have time to analyze and decide the best action. sprinting as quietly as you can manage, you seal yourself in one of the lockers. Sinking to the bottom, your body is folded onto itself to fit into the small space. You can’t see out of the grate and you don’t want to. You really didn’t mean to manifest the killer appearing. You quake lightly, heart thrumming against your rib cage. You hear footsteps approaching before stopping close to where you’re hiding. Your hands are clasped around your mouth tightly, stifling your panicked sounds. Your breath is held. You can’t make a single sound, your ears are ringing. You need to calm down.

~You’re going to die again~

You press yourself impossibly farther into the locker, wishing you could be anywhere else. Something pointy and sharp digs painfully into your head and you fight back a desperate cry of shock. Craning your head away from the back of the locker you tilt it up at an uncomfortable angle to try and see what cut you. The small amount of light filtering in through the grate catches on polished metal. Small throwing knives. The blades themself are an odd ombré of a pink base, bleeding into a light blue at the tip. The handles are matte black and quite weirdly designed. the whole thing screaming cyberpunk and neon. You could cry. It’s the trickster. You haven’t gone against him many times, this is probably your third if you’re remembering correctly. But you know his attacks are brutal and attitude is sour. Mumbling in a language you don’t recognize when stunned and glaring at anything that crosses his path. Maybe he’s crazy. Probably, he is a killer after all.

Dumbfuck

Much to your relief, your heart rate begins to settle. The constant thud slowing down and weakening until the only heartbeat you can feel is the one caused by your faltering adrenaline. Your hands fall from your lips and you pant. greedily inhaling breaths to ease your leftover panic. Your legs ache from being compacted into this tiny space. You don’t want to get up.

You don’t want to leave. There are too many dangers on the other side of that door… But you have to go. The crows will snitch otherwise. With a shaky sigh you rise up off your feet. Slowly you inch the locker door open and step out. A quick survey around you and you see nothing. Without wasting any more time, you continue on the invisible path you made in your head.

You see the trial wall. You see safety (hopefully). You whisper a silent thanks that you can finally just hide and then die during endgame collapse. Will it hurt? Of course, it hurts every time. But being found by ANYBODY else, that would hurt a lot more. Just as you’re heading for a large rock to take cover, a hand on your shoulder jerks you to a stop. A gasp tears through your throat as you’re roughly turned around. A whine is lodged deep in your throat as you see David is the one who grabbed you.

His fingers tighten, digging into your shoulder as he speaks lowly with his strong English accent, “And where the fuck are you going?” He glares at you hatefully, the sight making a shiver run down your back. You jerk your shoulder out of his painful grip and take a step back, your legs starting to wobble and feel weak. You stare silently at him with wide, fearful eyes. “This’ where you’ve been at hiding instead of helping us? Fucking coward.” He sneers, matching your movement and stepping forward. His hand seizes your wrist and pulls you closer to him, a yelp escaping you in the process. “Don’t want to help your own fucking teammates? Well I know how to get some use out of you.”. You gulp, eyes glossed over with unreleased tears. That isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.

A dozen emotions tackle you. Fear of the situation, sadness at the judgment, anger from the mistreatment, and so many more. “Let go of me David.” You mutter, keeping your voice as even as possible. Your heart is beating in your throat and it’s because David might just be scarier than the killer. You try to rip your wrist free from him but his grip is as tight as a vice. Your blood runs cold with panic. “Don’t think I will, love.” His voice is cold, a malicious smirk on his face. Your breathing picks up but you try to ignore it and stand strong. Don’t let him know you’re afraid. Stay calm, you’ve gotten away before. Only once but hey, at least that means you aren’t totally screwed.

You are totally screwed.

As long as it’s just him you might have a chance. You give another desperate tug to try and free yourself, but it of course results in nothing but him holding on tighter. Bracing yourself with a deep breath, you winding your free fist into the air, you bring it down hard into David’s crooked nose. Adrenaline grants you a little extra strength. You're pretty sure he stumbles back more in shock than actual pain, but you’re not complaining because either way it got his grip to loosen enough for you to pull away and start running in the opposite direction. 

“Shit! Ace, get your ass over here!”

You hear his voice and his footsteps behind you. If he shouted something at you, your mind doesn’t bother to process his words. You run as fast as you can, at this point you’d rather run straight into the trickster's bloody hands then be left to the mercy of David. You think you might actually be able to keep running and lose him until… a body appears in front of you and tackles you to the grassy floor. Ace, who must have been working on a generator if your hearing serves you right, stepping out from a tree you hadn't noticed him waiting behind, and directly in front you. Resulting in you running directly into HIS arms, which proceed to drag and pin you to the ground. Both his hands around your wrists, and his foot digging into your stomach.

You thrash wildly but your body is already exhausted and his strength is far superior to yours in this position. “hijo de puta, got you.” Ace muses as David slows to a stop beside the both of you. ”Fucking bitch,” David spits. Crouching to grab a handful of your tangled hair and twisting your head up to face him. Your scalp burns and you feel a wetness slide down your cheeks as tears finally fall. “Let go, please stop!” You plead, but there is no reprieve. You yell and babble nonsense with a shattered hope that they may free you. David growls above you, looking at Ace. “Shut them the hell up, before the killer comes over here.”

Ace’s foot lifts and collides back into your stomach in response, stealing the breath out of you. You choke at the lack of air in your lungs, thrashing wildly before Ace knees you in the face, the impact is enough to make your head spin. Dark spots momentarily covering your vision. Your lip stings, it must have split open, you taste iron. You feel Ace’s weight lift but you're still recovering from the concussing blow. The burn of your scalp intensifies and you feel yourself being dragged backwards.

Stop fighting.

Your mind struggles to keep up with everything happening. Hands clawing at the moist earth, the unpleasant feeling of dirt underneath your fingernails. You fight back weakly, adrenaline long overused. Your eyes dart about in your skull, unfocused and dilated. The hands tangled in your hair leave but the burn lingers. You’re slowly coming back to reality, your battered body lurching backwards in response to the lack of restraint.

Flinching when your hand plunges into cold water. You find behind you, one of the many tiny ponds scattered around the Yamaoka Estate. The water is crystal clear, reflecting the bamboo stalks, dark sky, and your tired face. You don’t have time to analyze your appearance however, because David is looming over you. 

You should have got up and started running. But for some reason you opt to turn back forwards and face him. David stands tall, staring at you with disgust. Ace is a few feet behind him, arms crossed with a devilish smirk. You gasp as David rushes forward. Large, calloused hands wrapping around your throat. He’s crouched on top of you, straddling your midsection. Your hands fly up to grab his own, trying to pry them off your throat. His grip around your throat is restricting, and tight, but you can still take in ragged breaths. 

Not for long.

He’s pushing your head backwards, and you only remember that water is behind you when you feel it creeping up your neck. Your body jerks and suddenly you're wide awake, fighting against his strength to keep your head above water. “Stop, s-stop!” You beg, voice muffled by your shortened windpipe.

”Don’t be greedy” you hear Ace remark with a chuckle. Your back aches, straining to keep you upright against the pressure. But upper body strength has never been your strongest trait. You only get half a second to take a deep breath and hold it as your head is plunged into the water. Your legs kick and drag across the dirt, trying to buck David's large body off you. He doesn’t relent, only pushes you down harder.

Your eyes are open but everything is blurry under the water, you can only make out the distorted shape of David above you. A small string of red floats above you, blood from your busted lip. You regret screaming so much earlier, it wasted your breath. you scratch at David's wrists, try to pry his fingers off your throat. Your mouth is clamped shut so tightly your teeth grind against each other. Voices above you are muffled, by the water or the ringing in your ears, you're not sure. You think you hear another generator get completed. Your chest spasms, body jerking to try and manually bring air to your lungs. You can feel your struggles grow weaker. You want so desperately to breathe. 

It feels like an eternity under the water, but it’s more likely only a few minutes. Your chest hurts. You can’t. You. You can’t hold your breath any longer. Despite your strongest will, your mouth opens and you inhale. Water floods your mouth fast, you still can’t breathe. Your body tries to dispel the water reflexively but it’s no use, the water is everywhere. Bubbles escape from your lips and break the water's surface. Your lungs burn, black spots dance around behind your eyes. This feeling, drowning, it feels familiar. But it hurts so much more now. Your head feels light, but also heavy. You can’t tell if the pressure in your throat is the water or David’s hands. 

Breathe

breathe

breathe.

You aren’t struggling anymore. You can’t hear the muffled voices above you. The pressure around your neck is invisible to your foggy mind. You can’t feel your empty lungs being flooded with water anymore, maybe they are full. The burn is nothing more than an itch now. the sting in your lip is gone too. You are cold, but not shivering. You are weightless. Vision is nothing but an opaque blur, your eyelids flutter. 

You’re tired. 

Very, very tired.

 Closing your eyes sounds good…

Hopefully they never reopen.

=======================================

Last he checked, He was losing. No kills and only two generators left. And oh boy, he was pissed. He’s been chasing around that brown haired bitch all trial, the fact that she hasn’t even healed yet pisses him off anymore. Coward, the Trickster muses, she should be scared of him. A filthy scum like herself should tremble in his glorious presence, he will not tolerate such disrespect to his face. He’s making rounds from each incomplete generator, at this point he’d be happy to find anyone. He’s pondering what he can do to try and take back control of the trial, but with only two generators and 4 survivors left , last he checked, a punishment from the Entity seems very likely.

He’s twirling his blood soaked bat in his hands, murmuring mindlessly under his breath when something catches his eye. A body is lying stiffly on the ground, In front of one of the many small ponds That cover the trial grounds. The tall grass of the estate slightly covers the carcass. His first thought is that he’s finally found a survivor, one with the audacity to try and hide from him. Stomping closer he pauses when he finds that the survivor's head is under the water. Maybe this wasn’t a survivor, other maps have corpses scattered around in morbid decoration. But he’s had multiple trials in the Yamaoka Estate, and there have never been any random bodies before. And he hasn’t seen any other bodies around. 

Stepping closer he’s bent slightly over the body, an unreadable look on his face. using the tip of his bat he gives the body a nudge. Nothing, limp and weirdly squishy. Definitely dead, the body itself is bloated and he can make out bruises on one wrist. It’s not a body he recognizes. The water in this pond is foggy, unlike the clear water of the other ponds. He has the urge to pull the head out of the water, to see if he can recognize the person as a survivor. But that in his opinion would be really gross, he doesn’t know where that body has been. Not to mention with it all bloated like that, the texture would be torture. 

Hmm.

Oh, he can just check sixth sense! He truly is a genius. Low and behold whispers in his ears tell him that only three survivors remain. Interesting… He’s only had one other trial where a survivor died by something other than him or the Entity, a survivor he hadn’t seen all trial, lying in a puddle of blood with a large gash in the back of their head. Although he has heard other killers experiencing the same thing. He can’t remember their face, but maybe they and the corpse in front of him are the same person. If he has time, he’ll ask around.

He spares the body one last look before turning and going back to the hunt.

…

….

How odd…

Chapter Text

Breathe

You’re choking 

Breathe

You’re sat up in an instant, gasping and coughing. A phantom pain lingers around your throat. Regeneration would have healed your body, but not your mind. lungs no longer are filled with water, but you remember the feeling. Your chest heaves exhausted breaths, as you come down from the shock of dying. Death… you died again. You think that was probably the worst death you’ve experienced so far. They killed you differently this time, you won’t be able to look at those ponds the same anymore. That’s a shame, they were pretty. You furrow your brow in dull agitation. You should have been more careful. 

It’s your fault.

If only you had paid better attention to your surroundings, strained your ears for sound cues, ran faster, fought harder… your hand unconsciously traces over your lips, they are no longer bleeding. Actually, there’s not even a cut left. The only evidence that you were even in that trial is the dirt still underneath your nails. It always impresses you that you can wake up from a trial in the exact state you entered the fog in. 

How long have you been in the fog for?

 You can’t remember. That used to scare you, after a few trials you found yourself forgetting more and more of your life before the fog. You don’t think much about it anymore, it’s not important. You weren’t important.

…

You didn’t want to be.

Regeneration always puts you a little ways away from the campfire, at the edge of the forest. You hear muffled voices coming from the fire’s direction. There’s not much to do after trials, only talk, sleep, and search for offerings. As of recently you haven’t been talking or sleeping, and what’s the point in making an offering if you know you’re going to die anyway. You slowly rise up off the dirt floor, dusting yourself off, wondering where you should go until your next trial. 

You’ve been going to the river after almost every trial since you found it, but that was the first time you’ve seen anybody else. Maybe you shouldn’t go there this time. Or for a while, yeah, better not to risk it.

 A chill crawls down your spine. It’s so cold everywhere in the Entity’s realm, you wish you could get used to it. 

You hear the crunch of leaves, footsteps. your body automatically tenses, turning towards the sound. A blonde head, with a gentle face comes into view from the trees. Kate. Your body shoulders slack with relief, you like Kate, she’s kind to you. Her eyes seem to brighten when she sees you, a soft smile gracing her features. She leans against a tree and you willingly approach her. “Hey, hun.” Her southern accent is as strong as ever. Not at all affected by the time she’s spent here. Kate is the literal embodiment of Southern Hospitality, and you’re happy to see some people’s morals haven’t been changed. 

“Hi.”

Your voice is gravely. Clearing your throat before adding on politely, “How are you?” 

She hums thoughtfully for a moment, “as good as I can be, and you?“ 

You don’t think much about your answer before responding. “Good.” both your hands meet together at your chest, and you clasp them awkwardly. This small talk is going to kill you.

“How’d your trial do? Who were ya’ up against?” 

You pause, her eyes meet yours inquisitively. “Trickster, and It went fine.” You say carefully, voice steady but not convincing. Her eyes soften.

“David there’ too?” She asks with a hint of hesitation.

You shuffle on your feet uncomfortably, she can read you like a book. “Yes.” Her smile falters but doesn’t leave her face, just not quite meeting her eyes. She doesn’t pry further on the topic. You’re thinking about leaving when you remember something and your face lights up.

“Guess what I saw last trial.”

She seems happy with the topic change, leaning in slightly with interest. “What'chu see?”

You can’t help but smile at her genuine interest. A giddy feeling tries crawling its way to your stomach. “I saw a raccoon!” You state with a little too much excitement. She stares at you with a mix of amusement and confusion.

“A raccoon?”

“Yes! It had, like, weird tendrils coming from its back, and its chest glowed red!” you explain, making motions with your hands that honestly made no sense. “It had the cutest face with little beady eyes! And it looked so soft.” You added happily. Kate listens with her head tilted, letting you finish before responding with the same note of excitement.

“Really? I haven’t seen a raccoon here before, what map?” her eyes sparkle under the dimly lit sky, and you're happy she shares your excitement. New things are rare here, and most of the time they aren’t exactly positive for the survivors. 

“Yamaoka Estate” you answer quickly, thinking back to the little fluffy creature that was studying you. 

“Interesting, I’ll have to keep an eye out next time I’m there!” She sounds so genuine. You almost forgot what it felt like to spend time with real friends, to be able to talk this freely. You open your mouth to speak but are interrupted by a shiver running down your body. Why does it have to be so cold in the forest? It’s not fair. Kate definitely noticed your reaction because she changes the topic once more.

“You wanna go to the fire, hun?” She offers, surprisingly you actually do give it some thought. You wouldn’t mind seeing some of your other friends. You’re actually thinking of saying yes when you remember something, if you die in a trial you regenerate last.

 That means David and Ace would most likely be back at the fire already, the trial really didn't seem in the killers favor. Not to mention that some of the other ‘problematic’ survivors might be there. “No thanks” you say, hushed. Kate visibly deflates, stays silent for a moment before pushing her offer again. “You're sure? I think Zarina is back from her trial.” 

Great… Now you feel awkward again, not to mention it’s kinda bitchy, but you really don’t want to go to the fire where your tormentors are waiting.

Where'd your confidence go?

“Sorry, tell her I said hi.” You give shamefully, you just aren’t brave enough right now. Kate has a hint of disappointment in her eyes but at least she doesn’t look mad. She opens her mouth to speak before her body tenses with a slight flinch. A black smoke is starting to surround her. “I’ve got a trial,” she groans, tilting her head forward , blonde strands falling over her face. You give a sympathetic look. 

“Good luck.”

All she can offer you is a strained smile before she’s taken away into trial.

A sigh leaves your lips as you look at the colorless, dead trees around you. The sight is sad but familiar. Laughter echoes from the direction of the fire, your heart pangs with a dull feeling of loneliness. You should leave, don't want to risk someone seeing you. 

Coward.

You'll stop before you reach the river. You don't know how long you've been walking, but from what you remember the river is a good thirty or so minutes away from the fire. You couldn’t have been walking for more than fifteen minutes, so you’re not too worried. The thought of the river makes your mouth go dry, not because of what happened last time, but just the thought of any body of water brings back that suffocating feeling. Brings you back to that trial, your head being forced under the water. The intense pressure in your-

You should stop. It’s probably best not to get yourself all worked up about something that’s now in the past. 

Maybe you’re just paranoid after last time's little encounter but you swear you’re being watched, and not just by the crows. A flicker in your peripheral, the soft crunch of a leaf, but every time you look nothing is there. A few times it looked as if the air was distorted, maybe you’re just exhausted. The feeling follows you through every turn. Your first instinct is to walk faster but you refrain. Nothing is there. You know it, you’re freaking out for no reason. Nothing is there.

Are you sure?

You don’t know whether to be thankful or devastated when black smoke starts to surround you. You’re a little surprised you’re being taken into another trial so soon, but it is rumored that survivors who previously died in a trial are more likely to be placed in another sooner. How unlucky. The feeling of being transported into a trial is nothing new, your body is limp, you’re falling, you can’t see, you don’t breathe, and then you’re awake.

A quick survey of what's around you and it's clear you're in Glenvale, rotted wood buildings and a sandy dirt floor. Not to mention It’s one of the only two maps that Has sunlight, the other being coldwind.That's actually why you like it, it's a lot warmer here, then every other map. Hm, you wonder who’s in your trial. A quick dip into your sixth sense and it reveals your teammates to be Taurie, Feng, and…

David.

What…

Are you fucking kidding? Why is he in another trial?! Did he die to the Trickster last trial? That’s the only reasonable way he would have even the slightest chance to get back to back trials. Or maybe the Entity just hates you. You just know David is pissed, well, more pissed than he usually is. Honestly, you have half the mind to just find the killer and get it over with fast. Not to risk what David might do this time if he finds you, you’ll be damned if he gets rewarded twice for killing you.

But… there’s a good chance whichever killer you’re up against won’t be any nicer than David. Guess death to the Entity is the goal then, how fun. You’re beside a large rock in one of the map's corners, and you have a pretty good view of the back of the saloon. Luckily you spawned in a pretty out-of-way location. There is a generator a few feet ahead, but with how far to the side of the map you are, you doubt anyone would bother. Still, you’ll keep your distance. 

Not much has happened so far. You saw Feng sneaking up the backstairs of the saloon, figured out Spirit was the killer, felt David get hooked and then unhooked, and heard a generator explode due to a failed skill check. You’ve mostly been sitting behind the large rock, staring up at the bright sky. Occasionally you’ll walk a few circles around the boulder to dispel any crows trying to give away your Hiding spot.

It’s during one of these laps around the boulders that you start to feel a heartbeat. Startled, you turn around to check if you’ve been noticed. You don’t see the killer, however you do see Taurie, and she sees you. She stops in her tracks, panting lightly from running. Was she running from the killer? You don’t offer her any words, just stand there wide eyed. Her expression is unreadable. She's relatively new to the fog, so you don’t know much about her. You do know she hangs out with Jane and Felix, two people who are adamant in their dislike of you.

Thankfully she turns away, albeit hesitantly and with a weird look on her face. As she runs off you start to creep along the trial wall. You’re not sure why, but you have a bad feeling after that interaction, and you don’t want to stick around. You don’t get very far until you feel a breeze against your back. A soft wind sound mixed with whispers follows, and then, pain spreads through your person as the Spirit exits her phasing and strikes a clean gash across your back. 

You cry out, stumbling before catching your footing and sprinting. The Spirit gives chase. You don’t look back, but you can feel your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. Up ahead you see the old wooden gallows, the second biggest landmark of this map apart from the saloon. If you can just get past it, you swear that there’s a pallet nearby. The heartbeat stopped, but you’re positive it’s just because the Spirit started phasing. 

Something hits you in the back of the head, hard. Your vision blackens and you stumble forwards. Rough hands, hands you recognized all too well, stop you from falling before you feel yourself being dragged. You struggle feebly, your head is hazy and eyes are heavy. Your movements are uncoordinated. You feel warm liquid dripping down your neck. You’re hoisted up the gallow stairs. You register the chugging of a generator, it’s almost fully completed. Taurie is there, crouched beside the generator, you can’t focus your eyes on her for long. 

Words were logged in your throat, you had so much to say but nothing came out when you tried. The heartbeat is back but it doesn’t seem to scare away either survivor. Your mind panics and your body follows slowly after, as you feel your head being forced through one of the ropes on the gallows. You kick and jab blindly behind you but the angle just isn’t right. You're on your tiptoes to avoid choking on the rope around your neck. 

No one can save you.

Turning your head to look back sends searing hot pain throughout your head but you endure. You see part of David, holding you still with his disgusting hands around your waist. You also see the Spirit, a few feet away from the gallows. She’s stopped in her tracks, the usual look of anger and hatred on her face is instead replaced with confusion, she even appears to have recoiled slightly in shock. 

“Do it.”

You hear David’s gruff voice command, and you don’t get long to try and react before the generator beside you explodes to life. A loud sound signifying its completion followed by the sound of the wooden trapdoor under you, opening. You fall for only a second before the force of the rope completely snaps your neck. The sound of the bone twisting and crunching inside your body as your dead weight pulls the rope. Your body is left there swaying limply, as the two survivors fled the scene. At least it was fast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This time when you regenerate from the fog you don’t wait around or hesitate. You head straight for the forest, stomping on leaves and twigs. You’re exhausted, you’re frustrated, and most of all you are tired of dying. It never gets any easier, the pain never dulls. Why did you have to be the one with this curse? Why the fuck did you have to enter the fog in the first place?! You grumble your grievances under your breath. Kicking up dirt as you walk. The feeling of being watched isn’t present this time around, or at least you don’t notice it, if it is. 

Before long you reach the river. You didn’t even mean to go this far but you’re here now, so what’s the point in leaving? Your anger simmers down but never fully disappears. You walk along the river, eyes glued to the grassy floor. Your head is still heavy with emotion, and having to sort it all out distracts you from what's actually happening around you. At one point you look and notice that you’re quite close to one of the run-down bridges, only a few meters away. Means you should turn back soon before you reach the dense fog wall. 

Except you halt your movements hurriedly upon noticing three figures stood on the bridge. They don’t seem to have noticed you yet, thank god. It looks like they’re conversing, but you can’t hear any words being exchanged from where you’re at. You recognize two of the figures, one of them is the Spirit, she looks a lot less hateful outside of trial. And the second is the Doctor, surprisingly missing his horrific head piece that keeps his eyes and mouth pried open. The last figure takes you longer to identify as they’re facing fully away from you. Disheveled dark brunette hair, that almost looks black, reaches past their shoulders. Red shoulders. The person is wearing a long red waistcoat, one that you remember seeing not too long ago.

 From what you gathered the last figure is most likely the Pig.

You're mildly proud of yourself for your little detective moment but it doesn’t last long. Wanting to avoid any possible interaction you quietly back up. You don’t turn, keeping your sight of the three killers instinctually. You only get a few steps away before a twig snaps obnoxiously under your foot, sending a couple nearby crows into the sky in surprise. A small defeated sound leaves your lips and you freeze. The Doctor looks up and meets your gaze, the others follow his line of sight before stopping on you. Awkward…

Interestingly the person you labeled as the Pig is in fact not wearing the pig mask you expected. Instead, sharp green eyes meet yours, her facial structure is sharp, you take note of the odd scars around her mouth, and her skin is paler than you would have thought. She honestly looks pretty normal, apart from the strained, almost deranged look in her eyes, she could pass for a survivor. It is definitely the Pig, but she looks a lot less scary without her mask.

Your analysis is disrupted as you catch the movement of the Doctor stepping in front of the other killers. Your head snaps to follow him warily. Not one of them makes a move to leave the bridge. The Doctor turns and seems to ask something to the Spirit which is met with a curt nod by her. When the Doctor looks back at you, your legs tense in preparation to flee. you stare at him through narrowed eyes, you are not in the mood for anymore bullshit.

Ha.

At your lack of overall reaction the Doctor tilts his head, a polite smile reaching his face as he straightens and lifts his hand.

 And. He. Fucking. Waves.

You honestly don’t even know how to react. You're not going to wave back, that’s for sure. His hand lowers back to his side after a moment, his smile doesn’t falter but his posture tightens. You spare a glance at the Pig and Spirit, trying to gauge what on earth is happening. It doesn’t help. After a few seconds of confused staring you take an experimental step back. Last thing you want to do right now is get in a chase. 

At your retreat the Pig says something and both the Spirit and the Doctor give her a deadpan look. The killers don’t speak much during trials, you’ve only heard the occasional swear or threat mumbled under their breath. You wish you could hear them, but there’s no chance you’re getting any closer. The Doctor looks like he’s at a loss for what to do next, but if they aren’t going to attack you, you’re just going to walk away. This is not something you have the will to deal with right now. 

Turning on your heels you make quick work of exiting the river clearing, back into the forest. At your sudden withdrawal from the area all three of the killers seem to jump back to reality. The two girls watch your escape with a disappointed expression, the Doctor even steps forward, causing you to bolt into the trees, and away from view. The entire way

back to the campfire edge you check over your shoulder. That interaction was weird, and you don’t like the vibes it gave you. How coincidental was it that both the Pig AND the Spirit were there?

…

Oh well.

Chapter Text

Something is wrong. 

Yes.

You chalked it up to nothing the first time.

But it’s so obvious.

 But now.

Open your eyes.

Now you can't ignore it. 

You had ended up taking a short nap somewhere in the forest when you were confident you weren’t followed. Even though you hate falling asleep so close to other survivors, you just couldn’t stop it. When you woke up, it was to the feeling of black smoke leaving your body as you were brought to your next trial. This is when stuff started to get weird.

You were against the Trapper, the map was Gas Heaven, you think, you don’t really remember. You had made it to the trial wall and was fine before you stepped in one of the Trappers bear traps placed on the VERY edge of the trial grounds, great, the killers are starting to recognize where you're hiding during your trial absences. Anyway, you couldn’t get out in time and you were hooked. Instead of just leaving right away or even hitting you on hook, as some killers are rumored to do when really pissed, he just fucking looked at you.

Just completely stopped mid trial to stare at you hanging on the hook, and you didn’t know what to do so you just stared back. you couldn’t see his eyes past the mask, making understanding even a little bit of the situation impossible. After a whole five minutes of silent tension he just scoffed quietly and turned away, finally leaving to continue his killing. You ended up getting left on hook and shortly after the Entity came to collect you.

The trial after that was against the Wraith, and he just completely ignored you when you straight up ran into him while he was cloaked, instead he went after the sound of a generator exploding in the distance. You hid in the basement the rest of the trial, eventually dying to the Entity after the hatch was closed. 

Same thing happened in your trial with the Huntress, where you were just ignored when found after slipping on some of the mud, while trying to hide, in Backwater swamp. Left to die by the Entity’s claws after the endgame timer.

Your trial against the Hag went similarly with you triggering one of her tags, her teleporting to said trap, and slashing you across the chest. You were ready for her to give chase, and it looked like she was going too before instead, she turned the other way and left after you took off running. You're pretty sure one of your teammates killed you that trial, you just don't know which one.

And your latest, probably most weird trial as of yet was with Ghostface. You're not sure how long he was watching you for but you were just walking along the trial walls when he popped out of nowhere and stabbed you in the shoulder. You ran and he actually continued to chase you. Okay, that's normal. 

You weren't even doing that bad, you actually managed to stun him with a pallet, and even evade a couple of his swings long enough for one of the generators to get completed. And then, he managed to twist his blade into the small of your back while vaulting. Effectively downing you.

When he crouched down beside your prone form he didn't, as you would've liked, sling you over his shoulder to be hooked. He instead lifted a single gloved finger and pointed to the ground beside you. Did he really just tell you to stay put? Absolutely not, you are not doing that. As soon as he left to go kill the rest of your team you crawled as far as your arms would take you. You ended up bleeding out in the corner of the main building before the third generator was even completed.

And that brings you to where you are now. Sat against a dead tree with a book you stole from the RPD library, trying desperately to focus on the pages and not the mountain of questions in your head.

You groan with your mounting frustration, dropping the book into the grass beside you so you can rest your head in your hands. Why are the killers suddenly acting so weird? If you were getting targeted and moried you’d understand, it’s happened before when you just started hiding. But what they’re doing right now is the complete opposite. It’s an odd thing to complain about, that the killers aren’t killing you, but you don’t trust where it might be leading. You haven’t seen, or heard, them doing it to anyone else, the last thing you want is more unwanted attention on you. 

If they want your attention it’s too bad because you’re not giving them it. You already deal with constant harassment from your own team, you’re not going to walk straight into more pain, you already bleed enough. Your mind wanders back to what happened at the river, why were they there? They were on the bridge, so close to the survivor side. There could be a killer on this side of the forest right now. You peek past your hands to peer at the trees around you, there is nothing. 

Maybe you’re overthinking it all. Maybe they didn’t see you, maybe it was smarter to chase a different survivor, maybe there was a perfectly normal reason to leave you bleeding, and the finger was just a taunt. You don’t know. You’ve been dwelling on this for so long you’re starting to get a headache. Nothing has changed since you entered the fog, why would anything change now? Dark smoke tickles your hands and you sigh tiredly. Another trial. Hopefully this one goes by as normal.

It won’t.

Body limp, falling, you're blind, you’re drowning, and now you’re awake. You don’t want to open your eyes but you do anyway. You’re in Haddonfield, you find out quickly with the line of houses on either side of you. You’re on some end road, next to a generator. A quick peek into sixth sense and you know your teammates are Sable, Bill, and Jane. No one who you know will go out of their way to make your trial harder.

You feel a heartbeat and your hands go cold, the trial just started. It increases rapidly and you see a figure bolt out of the house to your left, it’s the Legion. You’re pretty sure there’s multiple of them but you don’t know which one they are, you think it’s a dude though.

He slows down slightly when close enough to see you, as if having to assess who you are, which shouldn’t matter because it’s clear you’re a survivor and he should try to down you. Instead of doing that, unfortunately he runs straight past you. Off to go find a different survivor. Great… well you’re not going to stick around. Looks like you’re going to die to the Entity again If he’s ignoring you, unless you were wrong about one of your teammates that is. 

You don’t see the Legion member anymore after that, you spend your trial hiding around a blocked shed behind one of the houses. You were just sitting there waiting for the trial to be over, twiddling your fingers mindlessly. A couple times you heard your heartbeat start to rise but it never led to anything. The trial should end pretty soon, you heard Bill get downed and you’re pretty sure he’s on his last hook. Survivors were close to escaping, only a single generator remained. 

You flinched as you heard Bill get thrown onto a hook. The Entity came to collect him shortly after, his body being lifted into the sky. Sorry guys…

You’re useless.

Now you wait for him to close the hatch. you could see if you can find it first but, you really don’t want to risk running into him. He may have ignored you in the beginning but now that you’re the last survivor he’s allowed to mori you, that means he can collect a reward. Shit, you haven’t even thought of that. The killers might be leaving you alone just so they can kill you themselves in the end for free. You had time to hide in your other trials so maybe they just couldn’t find you.

That makes sense.

Well you’re definitely not moving now that you’ve “uncovered” the reason behind the weird behavior. That does scare you though, why now? Your heart rate elevates and you’re not sure if it’s from the killer or the fact you’ve worked yourself up with what could happen if you’re found, either way you press harder into the back of the plastic shed. it passes by as you take a few reassuring breaths. You’ll wait, he should find the hatch soon.

Five minutes turns into Ten minutes, ten into twenty, and twenty into thirty. 

Has he really not found the hatch yet? There’s no way, hatch never takes this long to find. Is he waiting? Does he really want the mori that bad? You resist a shudder, you have to move. If he’s looking for you then eventually he’ll find you, if you stay here. You need to find the hatch.

With a shaky sigh you lift yourself off the ground. Peeking around the shed, you don’t see him. A crow pecks at the dirt before taking off into the sky as you pass it. You walk along the backs of the houses, looking through dusty windows for the hatch. You strain your ears as much as possible, trying to locate 

the odd noise that usually emits from the hatch. You pass every house on the row and see nor hear, nothing. That means it’s either in the road or on the other row of houses.

 You've made it this far, just don't get seen.

Entering a house through a giant hole in the back wall, you pass through a dirtied kitchen and then out the front door. The road is empty, only crows look on quietly as you inch into the lamp lit road. You’re about halfway through the road when a figure emerges from between two houses. You jerk to a stop, mind screaming at you to run, to hide, to not be noticed. All the different signals cause your body to freeze up, your feet are glued to the pavement and you couldn’t run if you wanted to.

It takes less than a second for the legion member to notice you under the lamp light. He stops as well, now on the edge of the road. You watch each other. Although you can’t see his gaze, you can certainly feel it. His head tilts slightly, like a predator sizing up its prey. 

You’re the prey.

All he takes is one step and that’s enough to snap you back into reality, and start running. Turning on your heel, you sprint back to where you came from. He gives chase. He gains on you fast and you push your legs to go faster. You cut through one of the run down houses, trying to gain any distance whatsoever. It doesn’t work, as you exit the house, back into the road, he’s closer than before. He’s fast.

Ragged breaths leave your throat and your legs burn with overexertion. It’s a miracle you were able to nap earlier, or you wouldn’t have made it this far. You risk a glance behind you and gasp seeing how close behind you he is. Focusing back in front of you, you yelp as you almost run face first into a wrecked car on the side of the road. You are forced a veer right in order to avoid the car and that closes the distance the legion was waiting for.

A shriek tears itself out of your throat as a heavy weight barrels into your back. You lose balance and fall stomach first into the dirt. Twisting yourself around to lay on your back, you bite back a sound of terror as your gaze meets the legion who is crouched over you, blade in hand. Your body acts on it’s own, feet kick against the dirt to push yourself back.

The legion member acts quickly. Lunging forward and gripping your shoulder, pushing you down into the dirt. His own body follows after, straddling your midsection much like David did when he drowned you. The man’s weight on top of you brings you back to that trial, the phantom feeling of a hand around your throat. A cry leaves your lips but your eyes are dry, you’re scared but don’t feel like crying. 

A fight takes over your body in a last ditch effort to not get moried, you buck and jerk underneath him, trying desperately to free yourself. The man grunts in frustration and you swing a fist sloppily in his direction. He catches your wrist mid blow and his grip is strong. The blade glints somewhere in your peripheral, causing more erratic movements from you. The man’s grip tightens in response, only spurring you on further.

“Would you fucking quit it?”

A harsh voice speaks from above you, pausing your struggle as your body freezes. You glare upwards at the man trapping you, heavy pants breaking the now tense silence. His presence radiates impatience. “Thank you, jeez.” The sound makes you flinch, killers don’t speak with survivors. Why is he? His voice is rough, tinged with an edgy tone. Still, he sounds kind of young. 

You tug your captured wrist experimentally and surprisingly he lets go, allowing you to bring to your chest. Your next focus is getting him off of you but before you can formulate a plan a gloved finger is thrusted into your face. You blink before looking back up at the man with wide eyes. “Listen, I’m not going to repeat myself.” 

He crosses arms and you flinch violently as the blade makes its way back into your mind and view, its carried lazily in his palm. Your back digs farther into the dirt and the entirety of your attention is on the weapon threatening your life. The legion member jerks in response to your reaction, leaning back slightly. Your body twists with uncertainty, the desperate need to get a safe distance claws it’s way back. A voice in your head screams at you to fight harder or you’ll die.

The legions arms raise in a placating gesture. Your gaze follows the blade worriedly, and the legion must have noticed. He repositions the blade in his grasp, and you tense before he tosses it somewhere behind him. The sound of metal clangs against concrete before all is silent again. His hands stay raised. “ Look, no knife okay? will you listen to me now?” He asks, voice strained with a gentler tone. You relax very little but stop fighting anyway.

The man seems relieved with your cooperation, a sigh comes from behind his mask before he starts, ” some people want to talk to you. A few of us have seen some weird shit and brought it up to the big man.” You listen quietly and he pauses to collect his thoughts before continuing. “They want to meet at the river. They're trying to figure out whats fucking up the trials.” He finishes, peering down down at you.

You’re greatly confused. Who wants to talk to you? Who is the ‘big man’? What does he mean something is fucking up the trials, are you in trouble? You have questions but decided to keep them to yourself, the man already seems to be impatient with how long it took for you two to cross. There is one thing you know for sure, you are not going to the river.

“Okay.” 

Is all you mumble out as he looks down at you expectantly. Your answer seems good enough for him as he finally lifts himself off you. You don't have time to be relieved however, as soon as the legion member is upright he re-captures your wrist. Dragging you up to your feet, you have to stop yourself from trying to jerk your wrist free. You aren't able to stop the small panicked wheeze that leaves your mouth as he pulls you across the road.

He glances back for a moment before trudging on. You both pass the discarded blade, only you look at it as it passes. “Hatch is over here.” He grunts, his grip is firm but thankfully not painful. If you wanted, you could probably muster enough strength to free yourself, although you doubt you'd get far. It'd probably just piss him off.

Is he actually giving you the hatch? The question is present in your head. You willingly follow behind him so he isn't dragging you. A hook comes into view and you unconsciously slow your steps, but the hook is quickly passed in favor of entering one of the rundown homes. You hear the eerie whispers that emit from the hatch. 

At the threshold of the living room is where he releases your arm, not before pushing you in front of him into the room. The hatch is smack in the middle, you approach it. It's been a while since you've escaped through the hatch, hell it's been a while since you've escaped in general.

You turn back to the legion, he's watching you silently with crossed arms. Both your heads tilt in sync after staring for too long. You straighten and turn towards the hatch, mumbling a thanks you're not sure he heard before jumping into the bottomless fog that is the hatch. 

You arrive quickly to the edge of the campfire. You aren’t suspended in dense fog for as long when you survive. You almost forgot about that. Your mind wanders back to the legions words. You just can’t wrap your head around the whole idea. Maybe it’s because of your hiding. they’re mad. It’s definitely a trap, you should avoid the river for a while. Not like you wanted to go back anytime soon after last time.

You sit in the grass for a while, muffled voices are carried from the fire through the surrounding woods. It's almost peaceful as you soft through, and organize your rampant thoughts. Honestly if you move away from all the noise you could probably fall asleep. That'd be nice.

“you selfish prick!” 

A high pitched voice shouts, much too loud for it to be at the fire. You turn your head, Jane and Felix are glaring at you from a few feet away, a dark look in their eyes.

Chapter Text

You blink up at them, not bothering to stand up. Felix steps forward, a dangerous look in his eyes. Now you're paying attention, this seems like it’s going to end badly. Another stomp forward and you notice Jane stays behind, looking on smugly at what’s unfolding. 

“Your entire team died on the hook and YOU escaped?” Felix shouts, redirecting your attention. “What the hell did you even do? Hide behind a fucking wall and let Jane die on first hook!?” He continues, balling his fist and pushing forward. It was true, Jane had ended up dying on the first hook. A part of you feels bad.

They always leave you on the hook.

“I… I’m sorry? ” You say not knowing how you could possibly say anything to de-escalate the situation. These two have never hurt you before, only dirty glares and ignoring you whenever possible, including when you were hooked. But right now, it looks like that might change. Another step forward and you rise to your feet, aiming to take a step back and away from what your mind is now flagging as danger.

You don’t stay standing for long as Felix’s hand collides with your cheek, hard. The impact immediately brings tears of pain into your eyes. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It doesn’t even hurt. There’s a continuous sting in your cheek and you’re sure the force will leave a mark. You're almost knocked off balance but are able to catch yourself and calm your spinning vision. If you fall, you won’t get the chance to get back up.

It would be so much easier to just take it.

Blinking away the wetness in your eyes you look up from the ground just to be met with Felix’s fist again. A mind-numbing blow that would have sent you backwards if not for the large palm that tangles and yanks your hair, bringing you forwards and keeping you on balance. Your lip feels split open and you swear something warm and wet is flowing from your nose. Nothing feels broken thankfully.

“You’re a damn coward! No one has any fucking chance to live when one of their teammates is a selfish, egotistical bitch!” Felix seethes, every word sharpened to the point and laced with venom. “Out of all the people you get to live? The bastard who’s too pussy to help their own team?! Survivors are supposed to support each other, what the hell has anyone ever done to you?!”

What have they ever done to you? Is he serious? All the time they’ve witnessed you get harassed in a trial, all the times you’ve been left on the hook, he just gave you a bloody nose! And he has the AUDACITY to judge you for hiding? To lecture you on being a team player? To question what they’ve done to earn your indifference? You want to cry, You want to laugh, and most of all you want to scream. This is absurd.

“I think that’s enough Felix, you’ve made your point.” Jane pipes up from behind him, you almost forgot she was here. The hand tearing hair from your scalp doesn’t move. Felix barely spares her a glance. “I’ve lost every trial this self-centered prick was in, and I know you have too.” Felix reasons coldly and Jane doesn't respond, only stepping back with a roll of her eyes. You wonder if anyone at the fire could hear the commotion, it doesn't seem like it.

Felix winds his first back again and that's when you act, mind and body catching up with everything happening. Twisting your head you bite down Felix's arm as hard as you can. You can feel his skin tear underneath the force of your teeth. You taste the tang of iron and it spurs you to bite down harder. He yelps and then grunts as he releases your head and shoves you away. Cradling his now bleeding arm.

You don't waste any time, turning on your heels and running. It doesn't sound like they follow after you but you don't look back to check. Away, you need to get away from here. Somewhere none of them will go. The river, that's the only place you can think of, it's much too close to killer territory for any of the survivors to follow you there. Oh… but what the legion said. You had honesty forced that interaction out of your head with all the stuff happening. I

What to do…

You'll be careful, you've decided. You're going to the river, it's the only place you are confident no survivor will find you. If killers really are there waiting, you'll be ready. A big part of you still believes that the killers won't cross over to the survivor side. You hope you're right, they were close last time, when they were on the bridge, but they didn't technically come on this side, or chase you. 

Nothing's stopping them.

It’s crazy, you're willingly going somewhere you know will hold danger. If you give yourself a little time to think instead of speed walking directly through the forest then you’d probably come to your senses and stop. But right now, the other survivors are more of a problem than the killers and you’ll do whatever it takes to protect yourself, even if it means using the predators as a way to hide.

Your face aches and you lift your sleeve to wipe away the blood pooling around your mouth, immediately regretting it and hoping you didn’t just smear it everywhere. You’re still pumped full of adrenaline, your body feels warm. Uncomfortably warm, you almost want to take off your jacket. 

The forest is cold, so you’re sure you’ll cool down soon. Your eyes are glossy but you don’t cry, you don’t feel like crying. Even if you wanted to, you probably couldn’t. In all honesty, you feel more angry than sad. But that’s not a road of thought you want to go down, not right now. 

As soon as you start to hear the running of water your body slumps, heavy with dread. Your pace slows down to a stroll, dragging your feet against the damp earth. You try not to second guess your decision too much. It'll be okay. There's a chance no one's even here.

Get a grip 

Balling up your nerves and worries, you pass through the tree threshold and the river is in sight. As well as one of the bridges. You must have gone through the forest at an angle if you’re already at a bridge, huh, you hadn’t realized. You walk up to the river, a perplexed and tired look stuck on your face. Your gaze is focused on the grass, you stop a few feet short of the water, leaning against the worn bridge. The squawk of a crow followed by the flaps of its wings come from directly in front of you.

Much to your dismay, when you look up there is a person waiting. The Doctor. Thankfully this time he's alone, but that doesn't mean you'll let your guard down. He approaches slowly, his posture calm. You eye him warily, especially his hands. He’s within distance to hit you with that weird electric blast, his fists don’t seem to be charged though. 

Still, your body unconsciously straightens and leans away from the familiar danger. He stops parallel to you, moving his hands behind his back in a respectful manner. Your gaze immediately averts, held tilted down slightly to avoid the feeling of being studied. On the positive side the morbid head piece that holds open his eyes and mouth during trials is nowhere to be seen, too bad he is no less unnerving. The Doctor clears his throat, a polite smile that reaches his eyes graces his features as he addresses you.

“Hello.” His voice is odd, smooth but almost distorted in pitch. A part of you wants to turn and flee right now, to stop risking your life like an idiot. You don’t listen. The silence drags on awkwardly, The Doctor waiting patiently for you to speak. You shouldn’t. Survivors shouldn’t speak with the killers.

“Hi…”

It comes out small but steady, The Doctor seems to beam at your weak response. His smile less clinical and more genuine. You don’t share his enthusiasm. Your finger traces the splintered wood of the bridge absentmindedly. Your head lifts to get a better view of his body language, in the process your eyes meet his cold white ones, his gaze is calculating and empty. His eyes immediately narrow, smile twitching slightly downwards. 

“What happened to your face?” He inquires, the question abrupt with a hint of concern hidden under the sturdy professional image he seems to hold.

 You're confused at first, what’s wrong with your face? Despite not wanting to lose sight of the man in front of you, you can’t help but look down into the reflecting water of the river. Oh. There’s a red mark in the shape of a hand over your right cheek, it stings more as you look at it. 

A small stream of blood dribbles from both your nose and busted lip. Instead of responding you just hum tiredly as you take in your disheveled appearance. With the same sleeve you wipe away the fresh blood from your face, frowning as it smears a faint red stain above your lips. When you look back up The Doctor is still awaiting an answer, all he gets is a halfhearted shrug. You don’t really care if he judges your appearance or makes up assumptions. 

His brows furrowed in an emotion you can’t place but he doesn’t comment further on the matter, instead directing the conversation back to where you assumed he wanted to take it before he saw your roughed up face. “I am pleased that you showed up, I was afraid we might have scared you off after last time.” He offers lightly. You don’t really care if he’s pleased or not, you came to protect yourself. You nod.

“If I’m correct, Mr. Morrison did explain why we were requesting you?” 

Holy, this dude is formal. It’s nothing new that almost everyone here is from a different place and time, you wonder where he’s from to be speaking with such formality. You almost feel embarrassed with the difference in how you speak, you hope he doesn’t find it rude. “You wanted to talk to me?” You ask, trying to get clarification. The Doctor nods.

“I, as well as a few others, would like to inquire about some matters concerning you and your fellow survivors.” He explains, gauging your reaction as he talks. “Actually, we were hoping to convince you to meet in one of the realms, on our side.” No. Nope. Absolutely fucking not. You may have been making some risky, maybe even downright stupid, decisions recently but you are not a fool. Only in his dreams will you ever step foot on the killer’s side.

“Sorry, I’d rather not.” You speak in a hushed tone, body tensing in preparation for violence at your rejection. No violence follows however. His practiced smile falters and his gaze sharpens. He doesn’t look angry, but you’ve had a hard time reading this guy the entirety of this conversation. And hold on, you almost missed a part.

Your fellow survivors? What does that mean? Is it because you don’t help during trials? You haven’t witnessed any of the other survivors interacting with the killers but maybe they have, and maybe they’ve said terrible things about you. Maybe this is all just a trap, they made up some story of wanting to speak with you just to lure you in. But why? It’s not like they can kill you outside of a trial, and hurting you will only give a debuff for the following trial. 

Perhaps they just want to hurt you, they’re so pissed they want to inflict you with gut wrenching torture until a trial pulls you away to safety. It doesn’t make the most sense but hey, anything’s possible. Your assumptions might be dark but it’s to protect yourself. Prepare for the worst because it usually ends with the worst. You're pulled out of your muddled train of thought by The Doctor speaking.

“I understand your hesitancy, but I assure you that no harm will come to you.” The Doctor retorts. You still aren’t convinced. You hate pressure and right now, you feel like you’re under a lot of it. You swallow thickly, bringing your hand together in front of your chest. You’re not sure what words to use next so you just shake your head strongly. The Doctor inhales, and then sighs. 

“I beg of you, one chance? I make no move to deceive you, we simply want to talk.” The Doctor all but pleads, making you cringe with the awkward pressure to agree. You look everywhere but him. Saying no isn’t seeming to work so you’ll rely on excuses, just like you did before you entered the fog. 

Pathetic.

Hmm, what to say to convince him to just leave you alone. God why does your brain have to be empty now of all times? “Sorry… I, uh, now’s just not a good time… I need to prepare for a… trial.” You blurt out all at once, not really processing your own words until the very end. Your excuse is pathetic and The Doctor can totally see right through it.

Really? That’s what you came up with?

The Doctor stares at you inquisitively for a moment before responding. “Of course… I’m sure you are a very busy person and I promise this shouldn’t take long. Perhaps we can reschedule?” He plays along, or at least he doesn’t call you out on your lie. It seems to be going somewhere good, good meaning him leaving and you making no promises to return.

“Uhm, yeah sure. Thanks… thanks for understanding?” You close off, hoping to turn away and not look back. But before you can do that, he adds, “after your next trial, that should leave plenty of time without interruptions. We can meet at this same location and I’ll escort you to Mr. Macmillan. Will that work?” He speaks quickly. Taking a step forward in hope of your acceptance causing you to step back and panic answer his question. 

You crumble so easily.

“Yeah, s-sure.” You agree, stumbling over your words. You immediately regret ever opening your mouth, ever coming here, and ever being born. The Doctor immediately brightens. A very pleased smile reaches his lips when you agree. “Amazing, I will certainly see you there.” He finishes confidently. A part of you definitely dies inside. You try not to make your distaste obvious, you're not sure if you succeed.

Without a response or even a nod of the head you go to turn and leave as quick as possible. Holding in a groan when The Doctor requests you wait. How long is this dude going to keep you here? Standing still this long is making you freezing. you don’t turn back but you do peek behind you, and you’re surprised to see The Doctor with an expression of genuine concern. “Are you going to be safe once you return to your fire?”

The question catches you off guard. Legs completely locking up in shock. You can’t begin to wonder why he would bother asking that, or why he would care at all. It’s another trick, a question to confuse you and make you do something stupid. At least that’s what you reason it is. You aren’t sure how to answer that question, and so you don’t. You force yourself to continue walking, as if you didn’t hear him. You don’t care if it’s rude, you really don’t like how that question made you feel.

You're only about five minutes into walking when The Entity's smoke starts grabbing at your legs. God, if only you were pulled sooner. Then you wouldn't have been pressured into that promise. You could've avoided that conversation all together honestly. Hope

fully this trial draws out, because you are not excited to come back. You could always just not show up, who would stop you?

You'll show up.

Chapter Text

Blindness, falling, smoke in your lungs, and then it’s all gone. The feeling is terribly familiar, you wonder how many trials you’ve done so far. How long have you even been inside the fog? It’s best not to dwell on useless thoughts during a trial, but you just can’t help it. A deep breath to calm your tireless mind and you look around slowly. 

You’re in Forgotten Ruins. A sad, debris ridden map. A forever night sky hangs heavily above, with dull stars that hold no shine and no hope. Buildings, or rather the rubble that is left of them are lit only by torches. The smell of smoke and death permeates in the air. Definitely not one of your favorite maps. Far from it actually. A shiver runs down your spine, wind pushing hair into your face. Only for you to aggravatedly move it back.

You’re so cold. 

You hate the coldness and lighting in this map. Even if the moonlight is definitely fake, just a mock of the real world made by the Entity. Everything is fake but still, the temperature changes accordingly, always cold. Chilling you to the bone. You hug the worn coat closer to your body. It doesn’t help. The ash in the air stings your eyes, makes it hard to take a deep breath 

You’re out in the open, only a small tile with a vault beside you. Not much cover-wise. Ash ridden dirt floor under you, it’s pretty baron everywhere you look. Not much on the top layer. You know there's an underground to this map, even a library. You have been on this map maybe four times now, you checked the books in the library but none of them are in a language you understand, let alone recognize. 

You freeze in place just before stepping away from the tile, footsteps walking past you. Claudette passes you, heading towards the generator in front of the large tower staircase. You sigh nervously, heart hammering against your rib cage but not because the killer is nearby. That was way too close. You didn’t even notice that you spawned together. At least it was just Claudette, she’s nice. Keeps to herself most of the time, but at least she’s nice. Still, you shouldn’t be letting your guard down. You can’t afford to not be alert at all times. 

Clenching your fists, this time you peek past the small tile. No one. Good. You hastily shuffle towards the ruined tower. You walk along the cylindrical building, trailing your fingers against the moss invested stone. You reach the back of the cobblestone monument, pulling your hand back to your chest before you touch the glowing portal. It shines a sickly yellow-green hue, it hurts your eyes to look at it too long. It’s a good shortcut to get to the underground portion of the map, actually, you’re pretty sure this one leads straight to the library. 

You've also heard that it can be a pretty reliable way to get out of chase as long as you can get through the portal before the killer catches you. You’ve never tried it though. You prefer to just use the giant staircase inside the tower, moving through the portal makes you nauseous. You also hate the sticky residue it leaves after you exit through the other end. Honestly the biggest reason you hate this map is because the top has no where to hide and the bottom is too confusing to navigate. 

There’s a few soot covered rocks and some moldy wood debris scattered around. The trial wall looms ominously, trapping you like a cage in this trial. There’s a generator not far from the portal, two of the sides blocked by a useless tile. hmm, with the portal, generator, and lack of cover. You're starting to think this may not be the best place to hide. Oh! Actually you don’t even know who you’re in trial with, except for Claudette of course. If the rest of your teammates aren’t something to worry about then you might just go looking for the killer, get out of this trial quickly so you can hopefully avoid the Doctor. 

Let’s see…

Claudette, Jonah, and Taurie. Okay… let’s definitely not get seen. Jonah is a very scary man and you still don’t know what to expect from Taurie, but it’s pretty clear from your trial in Glenvale that she doesn’t like you. A piece of your heart aches but you only scold it. You don’t care that she doesn’t like you, it’s not like she has to or anything. 

You just wish people would stop HATING you.

You’re heading opposite from where you came when your body jerks to a stop. Small pitter pattering behind you, soft footsteps on the hard ground. Heading towards you. Fast. You don’t have enough to fully turn before a tiny body collides with your back, almost throwing you off balance. A yelp leaves your throat as small razor sharp nails dig into your shoulders. Small feet dig uncontrollably into the small of your back, clawing to stay connected to your flesh. Jagged tiny teeth bite down on the back of your neck, releasing and pulling up flesh before holding a new piece of skin hostage in their bite. Animalistic screams and growls leave your attackers throat, high-pitched and squeaky like a child.

Your body acts before you can think, hands flying back and grabbing flesh that isn’t yours. Prying the small body of yours and thrusting it over your head while it struggles, every instinct inside you tells you to chuck this creature with all the force you can muster and run. 

But you stop yourself when the creature is right in front of you, mid throw. It’s a baby, an actual fucking baby. A deformed face stares at you upside down, dark purple eyes glare at you with a mix of fear and anger. He must have came from the portal while you were distracted.

It, or rather he, claws at your hands desperately. Trying to bite down on flesh he can’t reach. You reposition him in your hold, now holding him upright. He’s still coated in a thin layer of slime from the portal. Hands hooked under his arms as if you were carrying a stubborn cat, he only fights harder. Legs kicking erratically in the air, high pitched whines and garbled screeches come from his mouth in a piercing frequency. It hurts your ears. 

A dark whisper in your mind coaxes you to throw him. Your limbs lock up, you refuse. You are not about to harm a baby, like what the fuck? There’s no way the Entity actually has a baby as the killer. Right? 

Okay think, you haven’t seen him before… but based on who you’ve heard of and who you haven’t yet met, maybe the Twins? From the description Quentin gave you when you first entered the fog I’d make sense. Did he mention that there'd be an infant though? You feel like that’s something you would remember.

You wince as he makes tiny scratches on the back of your hands, thin red lines dragged down your arms. You keep your fingers stiff and straight, careful not to hold him too tightly. You honestly have no idea what to do, should you put him down? Would he attack you again?

Stupid question.

Okay yeah, he’d most definitely attack you again. That’s literally his entire job. But you can’t just hold him like a disappointed parent would to a child throwing a tantrum, although that would be a good way to describe how he’s acting. You just stand there dumbly, holding him and arms distance as he tries to claw at your face. His feet slowly stop kicking the air, the force of nails weakens before ceasing entirely. He slumps in on himself, small frustrated huffs leave his throat. He pants with overexertion, whines separate each breath in a way that makes your heart lurch. Oh god. No, no, shit. Please don’t cry.

You internally panic, cuss under your breath and pull his small body to your chest. Your arms maneuver to support him with a hand under his legs and an arm around back. You hold him how you remember a mother held her child at the supermarket when they started to cry, back before you were brought here. Huh. You didn't remember that before now. Oh well.

He shrieks, hands instinctively wrapping around your neck. They don’t meet however. He’s so small, you’ve never cared for a child before but you feel a flicker of something parental and allow it to control how you act. You rock him gently up and down, a movement you hope he finds reassuring. You feel saliva drip onto your shirt, garbled nonsense leaving his lips. When you look down his eyes are watery with frustration and alarm. A sound that you can’t distinguish between a growl and a whimper is cut off by a hitch in his breath.

You shush him gently, thumb mindlessly rubbing circles into his back. You’re just desperate for him to not start crying, you have no idea what you’re doing. His little fists find your coat, balling up the fabric in his grip. He buries his face into your shoulder, tears, spit, and more dampens your coat. His body quakes and you pet the back of his head softly, you blink tiredly. 

Thank god no survivors have found you like this, you’re sure you’d get an earful and more if they caught you comforting one of the killers. You both jump whenever Jonah is hooked somewhere in the underground dungeon. His scream bounces off the stone walls of the tower. A gen pops to life loudly somewhere not far from you, probably the one you saw Claudette heading towards earlier. You’re quick to shush him again, muttering random words of comfort you aren’t sure he even understands.

You’re too focused on comforting the scared child that you don’t even register the crazy heartbeat that came out of seemingly nowhere. His body freezes and you’re quick to pat his back reassuringly, afraid he’ll start shrieking again. “Hey, hey… it’s alright, okay? I won’t hurt you… it’s okay please don’t cry. You’re so bra- ACK!” You all but scream as a heavy hand is placed on your shoulder, large fingers immediately digging into your flesh. You twist yourself around, stumbling backwards a few feet.

The child lifts his head from your body, peering over his shoulder before his eyes widen with recognition. A happy shout leaves his throat, sounding somewhat relieved. A tall woman, easily a head taller than you, glares down at you with deep sunken eyes. The dark purple matches that of the baby’s. The pure intensity and rage alone is enough to have your legs trembling. You’ve definitely made a mistake.

A ripped, and worn green dress, stained with grime and blood stops at her ankles. A torn beige apron, equally as stained, is wrapped around her waist with a thick rope. Her attire reminds you of an 18th century peasant. You don’t stare too long at the rope, bad memories of rope around your neck fresh in your mind. The entire right side of the dress from the waist up is torn and missing. Leaving her entire right side bare, arm, chest, back, everything.

From where her right breast would start to the end of her stomach is a large open wound, completely disfiguring her mid section. It’s like a chunk was carved out of her, a gash so deep it’s like a gory pocket. You can literally see her innards if you look close enough. It doesn’t bleed, but it doesn’t look at all healed either. A makeshift basket is tied to her back by more rope. 

Tangled brown hair falls from beneath her linen coif. Her brows are furrowed in an accusatory glower. Her fists tighten until they’re white, one holding a large rusty sickle. Her weapon is raised just above her waist, poised to attack. She takes a step towards you menacingly, and you instinctually turn your body to shield the child in your arms. She pauses for a moment, eyes narrowing. Her gaze is set on the baby, and he’s reaching out towards her.

Is she his mom?

No.

Actually, given the name, it’s probably safer to assume she’s his sister. And oh shit she looks pretty pissed you had the nerve to touch him. You swallow thickly, willingly yourself to speak before she buries that sickle far into your flesh. You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out is a stutter, you take a deep breath that makes you choke on the smoke in the air before trying again. Because the last thing you want to deal with is an angry, protective sibling who will probably tear you apart for laying a hand on her brother.

“I-I’m sorry! He, uh. Well he just showed up, I panicked and grabbed him- I promise I didn’t hurt him! He- he uh, was going to- so I- he-“ you ramble desperately, tripping over your words and starting sentences you can’t end. The woman blinks at you perturbed, the child just looks unimpressed. You think you bite your tongue with how fast you’re trying to reason. 

“Victor.”

A hushed voice with a heavy French accent interrupts you. You immediately quiet down as the child perks up, you blink confusedly up at the woman. Head tilting slightly, your panic simmers down as it’s replaced with a dull curiosity. “Huh?”

The woman huffs, weapon lowering to her side as she points with her free hand to the child in your hands. You fight back a flinch when her hand comes into view.

“Victor.”

She repeated, voice quiet like a lullaby not meant to be heard. It still takes you a second to put two and two together, but when you do you spare a glance down at the baby who seems a lot calmer now in the woman’s presence. He is Victor. You make a small “oh” sound in realization. Looking back towards the other twin she still appears uneasy, but both her hands are held stiffly at her sides. You steel your nerves, take a moment to collect your thoughts, and then speak.

“He- uh, Victor, startled me. I panicked and grabbed him. I-I should have… not did that? I should’ve just left! But he looked like he was going to cry, and… and I didn’t want him to cry.” You pause for a breath, “I didn’t hurt him or anything, I think… I wasn’t trying to do anything! I just, uhm, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.” You admit shamefully. You can’t tell if she’s convinced or just waiting for you to shut up.

She doesn’t respond at all, which is frankly worse in your opinion. After a moment she steps up to you, easily within grabbing distance. She has one large palm held in front of you expectantly. You hesitate before carefully handing Victor to her, which he happily launches himself into his sister’s arm. She supports him with ease, even with only a single arm. She’s definitely got practice. As soon as he’s safely within her grasp, all her attention is on him. 

"Tu es blessée?”

She speaks what you think is a question in French, you know absolutely nothing in French. After this though? Maybe you’ll look for a book on the language next time you’re on RPD. You just stand there awkwardly, not sure if you should risk shuffling away or keep yourself trapped by staying. Whatever she asks, Victor responds with a shake of his head. 

She nods relieved before asking something else, “Tu les as blessés?” The scratches on your arms and bite marks on the back of your neck sting suddenly, a reminder to you of where you really are. A generator roars to life somewhere in the distance, no one reacts. Victor goes to shake his head and pauses, averts his eyes from his sister before reluctantly nodding with a growl. The sister spares you a glance as you sheepishly run your fingers over the irritated skin absentmindedly. She looks away with a tired sigh, lowering her head to rest against his.

“C'est elles? Le problème. Nous pouvons les sacrifier maintenant tant que nous terminons ce procès rapidement.” She mutters, it sounds more like she’s just talking to herself than Victor. At one point Victor whines during her rambling, what she said apparently upsetting him. She gives him a confused look, an unnatural softness in her expression whenever she speaks to her brother.

“Elle t’a épargné donc tu peux décider. Est-ce qu’elle devrait survivre cette partie?"

Something about how she says that last part makes your stomach sink, you hesitantly take a step back but stop when her gaze snaps to you with a glare. You notice Victor looking between you and his sister, a perplexed expression overtaking the wild look in his deep sangria eyes. A couple frustrated growls leave his lips before finally he nods. She immediately straightens. “Very well.” 

At least you can understand that bit, but what did she just agree to? You meet her glare with one of your own, albeit yours holds no real malice or agitation, just something you do to try and seem more calm and unafraid. She spares you one last look with a defeated huff before making her way past you and through the glowing portal leading to the dungeon library. 

She never gave you her name.

Oh well.

You witness Victor crawling into the open cavity on her chest and feel yourself cringe thinking about how that probably feels. You hope it doesn’t hurt for her.

Why?

Your knees almost buckle with how fast you slumped over in relief. You groan into your hands, that was so damn awkward. You just want to get out of this trial, maybe you should follow them and just ask them to kill you. 

Wait.

What?

Okay you aren’t sure where that thought even came from, the last thing you want to do is get hurt. Let alone die again! That’s the entire point of your cowardice, why would you go through hell to hide and run if you were okay with dying? You hate pain. Hate every drop of blood and bruise, every glare and insult. Every ache and cut. You hate them. You hate all of th-

Really?

That’s not true. That’s not how you really feel, just how you wished you felt. It’d be unfair for you to hate everyone, after all Kate, Quentin, Zarina, hell even Jake helped patch you up when you were left bleeding out during the endgame timer. Granted he was complaining the entire time, but at least he gave a fuck.

Most of the people on your side hates you. They do everything in their power to make every waking second that you exist harder. But you do have friends. And you can’t just take them for granted, can’t categorize them all as merciless bullies. They aren’t like the others. They’re your friends, even if you keep your distance from them.

you sigh, noting your eyes are watering. You shake it off as the debris in the air making your eyes sting. You hastily wipe your eyes and straighten. You stand confidently, you know you aren’t weak. There’s people in this realm who want to make you think otherwise, you refuse to prove them right. You walk along the tower’s perimeter, slipping through the large opening in the front before pausing in front of the large staircase leading down. 

Your heart beats softly, but urgently. You glance over your shoulder and catch a foot disappearing into one of the ruined houses outside. The Twins follow closely after, sickle raised and ready. If she noticed you staring from the tower entrance she doesn’t make it known. 

You quietly slip down the curved staircase, your footsteps echoing against the stone. You’re met with torch lit hallways and solid stone. It smells of wet minerals down here. Better than the smoky air above you suppose. 

There’s a few entrances to rooms but you ignore them, especially the one with the large cage. You always feel watched inside that room. Walking through the hallway until you’ve reached the entrance to the mystical library. The generator in there is already completed, loud and full of life. Your gaze sweeps from the portal to the rows of ancient books. You wish you knew what language they were in. 

You pass by the library, taking a right into another hallway with knights armor lining the walls. You ball your hands into fists, a shiver going down your spine. You hate that the heads were facing you instead of straight ahead. Despite your unease you still walk through the hallway, past several of the decorative armor stands. You get about half way through the hallway before you feel eyes on the back of your head. The sound of old metal scraping against itself follows.

You turn around. Oh shit. You know for a fact that those knights weren’t facing this way before, you choke back a yelp. Looking behind you and the rest of the knights are still looking towards you. You feel uneasy, this is starting to creep you out. Screw the Entity and their idea of fun, you’re actually freaked out. You sprint quickly through the rest of the hallway, ignoring the sound of screeching metal.

But then you hear footsteps and the metal sound pauses before squeaking towards another direction and then stopping, you beg yourself not to turn around and to just keep walking. You don’t. Twisting around, chest held high. Any confidence you had is immediately gone as Jonah rounds the corner. The knights are no longer looking at you, but at him. 

You both lock eyes rather quickly. His gaze darkens before he smirks devilishly, “heard you weren’t playing very nice.” His voice makes you feel sick. You don’t even bother entertaining him with an answer, just turn swiftly on your heel and set off running. He makes a sound of offense before following after you. His feet thud heavily against the floor close behind you, you hold your breath as you run. He shouts but you ignore him, a sound of panic leaving your throat when you feel his hand just barely miss the hood of your coat.

Just as you’re turning another corner Taurie leaps out from behind the wall, you barely have seconds to react. But you’ve done this before. And this time instead of trying to slow down, you barrel into her with your full weight. She immediately buckles under your force and hits the ground, you’re pretty sure she hit her head in the process. She tries to take you down with her, hands digging into your waist and dragging you downwards. Your knee collides with her cheek and you escape her grasp, a sound of pain comes from behind you but in all honesty you don’t care.

She deserves it.

You turn another corner, completely lost, just to run into a dead end. Your body jolts to stop moving before you hit the wall. You don’t even have the time to panic, or regret every decision up to this point, before you’re tackled to the ground by Jonah. You manage to twist yourself onto your back just as he seizes you by your shoulders. Taurie comes into view, limping slightly, her expression unreadable. You cuss up a storm in your head, and demand him to get off you.

Your back is pressed uncomfortably hard against the stone floor. You can’t lift your arms but you can move your legs, you pull your legs up to your chest before thrusting them outwards with as much force as you can muster. You land a few good kicks against his sternum, he groans almost letting you go entirely. But it’s not enough time for you to escape before he is slamming his knee into your stomach, pinning your lower section down as well as making you choke back bile in your throat. You cough and sputter, he leans down to taunt you but is only met with your head colliding into his. He shouts in pain from your headbutt, your brain is heavy and you have an immediate headache from the force, but it was totally worth it. 

Claudette is hooked somewhere above.

He glares daggers into your soul but you don’t care, you scream and shout. You call him every name in the damn book, cursing him and everything he cares about. Taurie watches from the side, not even flinching when you all but screech about your hatred towards them. Jonah physically silences you with a hand around your mouth, fingers digging painfully into your cheek.

“God, you have such a loud fucking mouth. Why don’t you learn to shut the hell up? Bring me a goddamn torch.”

He sneers. You freeze before your entire body goes into overdrive trying to get him off you, Taurie obediently listens to his command. Pulling free one of the lit torches from the stone walls she approaches and crouches down beside you both. Jonah’s hand that was covering your mouth moves and you open your mouth to continue your onslaught of noise before being quickly re-silenced by his hand plunging into your mouth, you choke around his fingers and try to bite down. Taurie’s free hand moves, grasps your head and forces it upwards, prying your mouth further open. His skin tastes like oil and smoke, you gag in disgust.

“Little help? This prick needs to open wide.”

Jonah complains impatiently. Taurie hands him the torch which he takes with his free hand. He’s no longer got you pinned by the shoulders but your body still can’t will itself to move. With Taurie’s now empty hand, she aids Jonah in prying open your mouth. Saliva pools up in your mouth and dribbles down your cheeks but you refuse to swallow the disgusting taste. You try desperately to close your mouth, especially when Jonah dips the torch towards you and fiery embers fall and burn your tongue and nose.

The pressure on your jaw is unbearable, tears stream silently down your face. You retch and gag, jerking your head to try dislodging their hands. They only pull your jaw down harder. And harder. And then- SNAP. A sickening crack comes from your face, white-hot pain spreads from your head to your chest. Your jaw goes slack, open much farther than the human body would allow. You can’t move your jaw even as they both withdraw their hands. Jonah looks disgusted while Taurie looks somewhat satisfied.

You can’t tell if you tried to speak or it was just more coughing up spit, as well as something dark red. The sounds that leave you are garbled and incomprehensible. You whine pleadingly as Jonah wipes his hands on his pants. You close your eyes tightly as a hot coal touches your lips and burns, he doesn’t stop there. Flames press against the back of your throat and pain ridden cries are muffled by ash filling your lungs, it’s like someone is branding you on the inside. Your body can’t even fight back, just twitch uselessly across the stone cold floor. You feel the charcoal tied upon the torch crumble away due to the force and how long it’s been burning. The sharp end of the torch revealed, it pierces the weak flesh of your esophagus, and all you taste is ash and metal.

You open your eyes against your will, they roll around in their sockets. Dizzy with pain. Black spots paint your vision, you can’t bare to look at the man effectively killing you once more. Your eyes just barely lift enough to see Taurie's face, her lips are slightly parted in wonder. A faint blush dusts her cheeks, her eyes are wide and unblinking. Your head is pounding and your eyes feel impossibly heavy as the torch is dragged out of your throat hastily by Jonah, who is quick to stand once a heartbeat starts followed by footsteps down the hall.

He has to forcibly yank Taurie to her feet, her being too immersed in your torture, to of noticed the heartbeat. Your head falls to the side, sore cheek pressed into the cold floor. They leave you dying on the floor for the killer to find, Jonah muttering something about how he isn’t going to get his prize as they leave. 

“Just wait until we’re back at camp.” It’s a threat he fully intends to play out.

You know the next time you close your eyes that they won’t open. Your jaw is numb and your lungs burn. Your mouth is dry with soot, you watch as a dark red liquid spills from your throat and forms a puddle around your face. It’s sticky and warm, you can’t even taste the metallic flavor even as it coats your tongue. You don’t even try to speak, knowing it’ll only come out with choked nonsense. 

That pitter patter. Feather light steps echo along the stone before an ear piercing screech sounds from in front of you. You want to groan in pain at the noise but all that comes out is a garbled sob. You don’t take your eyes off the ground, not even when tiny feet step into your view. Your blood stains his skin, Victor growls concerned cries but you don’t respond. A heavier set of footsteps turn the corner before pausing, you almost miss the shocked gasp that leaves the woman, the heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears. 

She approaches hesitantly before stopping just behind Victor, sandaled feet being the only reason you know she’s even here. She’s dead silent as you choke lightly on your own blood. Victor cries out again, the sound a mix of fear and frustration. Small hands enter your vision and you can’t even flinch. She stops Victor from touching you, a hand on his chest carefully pushing him away. He growls at the denial but doesn’t fight her, only whines worriedly. 

She crouches down in front of you, you barely register her discarding her sickle off to the side. It clangs heavily when it hits the rock floor. Your body weakly jerks as you choke again. “Mon Dieu…” She whispers, voice laced with strong emotions you can’t pinpoint. A whimper leaves your battered body and she shushes you gently. You wish you could see her eyes, but the longer you lay here, the more your own eyes shut. “Quiet Ma chérie, the pain will fade.” She speaks slowly, as if comforting a child. 

It works.

It’s not like you aren’t still scared, or in pain, but you feel the slightest bit reassured. A presence that isn’t currently trying to hurt you. At least you aren’t alone. Short, labored breaths is all you can muster. Your body feels hot and cold all at once. 

“Ferme les yeux, tout ira bien.”

You aren’t sure what she says but your eyelids droop. You take in one last stuttering breath, laced with pain, before your eyes shut completely. And like you predicted, they don’t reopen. A panicked, animalistic, scream fades into the background as the entity carries away your consciousness back to the survivor fire.

hush.

When you reawaken, sat in the grass and surrounded by the forest. You’re for once grateful for the chill. Your skin still feels flushed and exhausted, but you know your back to normal. Your throat isn’t burned, and you aren’t coughing up any blood. You can breathe normally and move your jaw as intended. Your head still pulses with a faint headache but it’s the least of your worries. 

Jonah’s words play out in your head and they’re enough motivation for you to drag yourself up onto your feet. You told yourself you wouldn’t go. But it’s not like you can stay here. Whether it was just another trick or not, the twins didn’t seem all bad in the end. And for them only, will you give this whole ‘just want to talk’ thing a chance. You already know that you’re going to be regretting this risk. 

And with your jumbled thoughts gathered and locked away for you to deal with later, you set out for the river.

Called it.

Chapter Text

It doesn’t matter where you look, your surroundings are all the same. Grey lifeless trunks. Branches that sway slightly despite there being no wind. Very few of them have any leaves, like this forest was cursed with never ending plague and death. 

You’re filled with anxiety and doubt.

No matter how much you start to realize that this is a terrible idea, you just don’t turn back. You aren’t even sure why you’re bothering to go. It’s not like you’ll be any safer, you don’t even know what they want. Maybe you just want to keep your word, not give them any reason to hate you. Although you’re probably too late for that.

You can’t help but sigh, you’re exhausted. You wish you could’ve taken a nap, or even had a small conversation with one of your few friends. You know they miss you, but they don’t bother trying to convince you to stay anymore. They understand why you don’t stay around the fire.

Or maybe they just don’t like you.

You hope they understand.

Crows watch you, perched up high on thin, gangly branches. They cock their feathery heads and caw lowly in warning. Large unblinking eyes follow your slow steps across dark grass, you watch them back. Their stares don’t feel as dangerously invasive as the knights, although their heads slowly turn to keep you in view just the same. Low sounds emit from the small creatures, as if communicating with one another. Quiet, like a whisper they don’t want you to hear.

You walk painfully slow, one deliberate step after the other. Unconsciously hesitating on continuing forward. You should heed the crows' warnings. After all, they of all things would know what’s ahead. 

But?

You’re too far into this already to turn back now. It doesn’t matter how slow you walk, as long as you keep moving forward you’ll get there eventually. And when you do, you’ll have no idea what to expect. Except the worst. You’ve never wished to be whisked away into trial more than right now.

The gentle sound of running water is like nails on a chalkboard to you, a sign that you’re waltzing straight into the eye of the storm. You reach the edge of the trees, stepping out of their safety and towards the now visible river. The water reflects your bleak expression, the faint shadow of dark circles under your eyes. The way your eyes gleam but don’t shine, like a flickering candle fighting to stay lit. You take a long look around, no people, no bridge, nothing.

…

Wait.

No bridge?

You totally forgot, you had been at the bridge last time. You groan, trying to recollect your memories of that meeting with the Doctor. You did agree to meet back at that spot, didn’t you? It wasn’t just ‘the river.’ Well damn. Guess you need to head towards the bridge then, but… which one were you at? There’s two bridges on each side and you don’t remember which one you were at. 

Great. Just great. It’s a 50/50, so where should you go? You’re glancing left and right like you’re getting ready to cross a road. You hate making decisions, what if you’re wrong. You try to avoid instances where you aren’t confident you can perform perfectly. But here, that’s basically everywhere.

If you don’t show up, what would he do? You don’t want to think about what might follow. God, why does this realm have to be so frustrating? 

What’s he going to do if you show up?

Standing here isn’t solving anything, you need to make a choice. The river is running to the right, so you guess you will too. Is it the best reason for why you’re going this way? No. But at least it’s something. You aren’t sure how close you already are to the right bridge so it’s no telling how long this walk will take. You can only hope the answer is ‘forever’.

…

Would he find it rude if you were late? 

The clock is ticking.

Wait, how could you even be late? It’s not like time even works in this world. The sky never changes. No one ever ages, at least physically. Plus you just agreed to meet “after your next trial” how would he even know when that is? Unless he just waited at the bridge, but that doesn’t seem very reliable. The Entity does drag people away into trial at random. Especially at less than ideal times.

Maybe you could use that to your advantage. Just turn back now and if by some horrible miracle you find yourself in talking distance with him once again and he asks, you could just say he wasn’t there when you showed up. Would that even work?

Jeez why are you even trying to make excuses, you’re already well aware that you’re going to show up no matter how much you don’t want to. That’s just the breed of stupid you are.

It honestly doesn’t take you very long to reach the right bridge, maybe like eight minutes tops. you can’t hide the dread that seems to swallow your body whole. The bridge looks the same it always does, falling apart. The stream is higher it seems, water splashes up and hits the bottom of the bridge. 

You stand awkwardly, looking around for maybe three minutes. No one else is here. Your hands find each other in a nervous fidget, did you go the wrong direction? Who are you kidding? You totally did. 

Fuck, your existence here really couldn’t get any worse. You’re about to turn around when you catch the sound of footsteps. You pause and turn back towards the killer side, just as the Doctor pops out from the shadows of the trees.

His eyes find your figure almost instantly, you feel yourself shrink. His eyes widen slightly in shock and then shift into a more pleased expression. He’s being followed by another presence, one that you quickly recognize as their features become visible. It’s the woman from the last trial. The twin, the sister, the woman who sat with you as you died again. You didn’t even know her name. It takes you a moment to realize but as they get closer you notice that Victor’s head is poking out from her chest cavity, it doesn’t seem like he’s noticed you yet. His gaze is glued to the floor. 

They’re still a few meters away from the bridge when Victor finally looks up slowly. His dark purple eyes meet yours and his reaction is spontaneous. He blinks. Doesn’t move for a whole five seconds and then lets out a deranged screech. In a flash he bursts from his sister’s chest cavity, she stumbles slightly, and he sprints towards you.

You barely take a step back before he’s crossed the bridge and is wrapped around your leg. His tiny nails poke into the skin of your calf as he stares up at you, growls and sputters sounds that you don’t understand the meaning behind. The sounds match his expression, sad and relieved. You completely stop every movement, your body torn between getting him off of you and booking it because a killer is on the survivor's side right now. You decide on the latter and completely lock up, brain going into reboot. 

Slowly, very slowly, your limbs start to move again. Crouching slightly to scoop Victor into your arms, he urges you to go faster by pulling himself up your arm. Once you’re holding him as you were last trial he quiets down. Your heart pangs, something about being chosen as someone he allows to hold him makes you happy.

“Hi Victor.” You utter in a whisper, he garbles some nonsense to you in return. It honestly slipped your mind that there were other people here until your name was spoken softly. 

When did they get your name?

Your attention is brought back to the two killers across the bridge, although you hold Victor securely to your chest. The Doctor seems somewhat amused while Victor’s sister stares at her brother in your arms skeptically, she doesn’t give any indication that you should put him down though.

It seems to be a recurring theme that the killers don’t hold onto their gear outside of trials, as you can’t see her sickle anywhere. That fact doesn’t calm you down at all though, most of the killers could easily kill you with their bare hands.

Some have.  

The Doctor clears his throat before speaking.

“Hello, glad to see you hold true to your word! I was afraid you may have been scared off by my previous approach. Apologies for the urgent nature of last meeting, but you are quite the difficulty to find. I didn’t want to miss my chance.” 

He smiles politely, the distortion in his voice doing very little to hide the richness coating his tone. You aren’t quite sure how to respond, miss his chance? What the hell is he even talking about? You’re regretting keeping your word more and more by the second. You both just stand there in awkward silence, the twin’s eyes shift between you and the Doctor in secondhand embarrassment. The Doctor pipes up once more.

“Terribly sorry for any wait, it appears I misremembered which location we would be greeting at.”

So he was at the other bridge. That means you did go to the wrong one. Well actually he could have gone to the wrong one, you still don’t remember which bridge it was last time. That makes you feel a little less embarrassed.

You definitely went the wrong way.

You feel bad just letting him talk to himself so you muster up the courage to speak, your throat dry but you try to sound confident with your words. “It’s fine.” It comes out a little quieter than you would have liked, but at least you didn’t stutter. 

The Doctor looks delighted at your pathetic response, his shoulders losing their tension as he relaxes slightly. Victor babbles, sounding somewhat bored. The Doctor straightens like he just remembered something.

“Are you ready to depart?”

…

Right.

You agreed to let him take you to whoever “Macmillan” is.

Shit. You actually agreed to go onto the killers side. What the hell were you thinking?! Actually you probably weren’t thinking, there’s no way you in your right mind would have agreed to those conditions. It seems you haven’t been in the right mind for a while, because it’s just stupid decision after stupid decision with you. Okay, that’s enough of those thoughts. They aren’t helping and you know if you pay them too much focus you’ll end up spiraling. Plus, you have three sets of eyes staring expectantly at you. 

You force yourself to inhale a breath, the air still not feeling like enough with how tight your chest is. Convince yourself to relax your tensing muscles because you don’t want to grip Victor too tightly, you need to not panic. This has clearly gone too far, just say no. Say no and mean it. Say no.

“Yup.”

Your approval comes meekly. Your heart drops like you just got betrayed, by yourself. The small weight in your arms suddenly feeling ten times heavier, your legs cemented to the ground underneath you. The Doctor clasps his hands in front of his chest in a relieved manner, his odd bright white eyes upturned in an expression of glee. 

“Amazing, allow me to escort you. These woods can be... complicated if you aren’t familiar with the layout.”

He’s right about that. When you first arrived you took a walk through the woods to wrap your head around your new situation despite being warned by Adam that it wasn’t a good idea. You ended up getting lost, and didn’t arrive back at the fire until you were brought to a trial and murdered by the Oni in the first fifteen minutes. Zarina tried so hard to keep you alive for your first trial, she unhooked you both times and even went down herself trying to protect you. It was frustrating, something about newbie’s always being first targets. Honestly-

Oh.

Right.

You should probably focus, the Doctor's expression is becoming slightly strained and Victor’s sister is waiting with crossed arms. Speaking of Victor, he’s lightly chewing on your shirt collar. Not something you entirely welcome but oh well, who are you to stop him?

With every ounce of confidence you can muster, you lift your foot and take the first step. Then another. And another. And before you know it, you’re walking shakily across the bridge. The moldy wood feels unreliable under your weight, like the planks will snap at any moment. Especially while holding Victor, your confidence melts away with every small step. 

The bridge creaks, an expected sound seeing as this bridge looks several decades old. You have to pause to stop your legs from buckling. It’s worse because you gave Victor in your arms, and if you fall he does too. The wood itself is slippery, little bits of water splashing up from the sides.

When you cross the bridge you are at first relieved, and then very very aware and disappointed with your new location. Crossing over to the killers side felt like going through a weak barrier. An invisible resistance at the threshold that made your entire body feel tight, but vanished as soon as you stepped foot into grass. It was your first time on the killers side, and although it didn’t look any different, you felt incredibly vulnerable. 

You’re on their territory.

You were hoping that the Doctor and Twin would have already started walking, leaving you enough distance to ‘safely’ tail behind. But no. Of course not. Both of them waited patiently for you to cross onto their side and straddle up beside them. You met the sister’s glare and quickly diverted your eyes to the grass, it didn’t hold any malice from what you could see but for some reason it still felt harsh.

With a hand under either of his arms you pulled Victor away from your shirt’s fabric and offered him back to his sister, who had no hesitation as she leaned forward to grab her brother. A sharp breath leaving her throat that you didn’t realize she was holding. Victor doesn’t complain, just hisses in a content way as he crawls into his sister’s chest cavity. A sight that still has you inwardly cringing.

The Doctor starts to walk and both you and the Twins follow, speed changing and then settling when no one is ahead or behind another. You’re in the middle, the Doctor to your left and the Twins to your right. You cross the clearing threshold and become painfully aware that you are now surrounded by trees and two large bodies They aren’t shoulder to shoulder with you or anything, quite the opposite actually, they leave a surprisingly respectful distance between you. But you can’t help but still feel like a prisoner being escorted to their execution.

You try to slow down so they can walk in front of you and leave you enough room to run should you find it necessary, which is feeling like soon because the further you go the more claustrophobic you feel. You don’t even get to think about turning and running because the Doctor immediately slows down to match your pace, flashing you a knowing smile that makes your stomach churn. The twins don’t slow down, but they never speed up either. 

“I do apologize for the unexpected company.”

you spare the Doctor a confused look before you understand. It was supposed to just be the Doctor you met up with, instead it looks like the Twins tagged along. He must have noticed your realization because he continues with an explanation.

“When I was notified you had… exited, your most recent trial I had tried to embark on my own but these two were quite insistent that they join.”

The Doctor gestures casually towards the Twins, the sister gives no indication that she’s even listening. Your gaze follows his hands as they move, ready for them to be used in some negative way. You aren’t sure if he notices this or not but both his hands seem to find themselves behind his back and out of your view.

“They seemed quite distraught, especially poor Victor. And I decided that it would be no harm for them to tag along, I hope you don-“

He pauses his train of thought. You tense ever so slightly from the sudden silence. His glowing eyes narrow, not at you but towards the ground, as if trying to recall something. Then, suddenly, his eyes widen and his posture straightens, he takes a single side step closer to you as you walk causing an involuntary flinch from you at the quick movement from the dangerous man. His attention isn’t on what’s ahead of him but on you. 

Entirely.

“Oh my… I deeply apologize my dear! We have not yet even introduced ourselves, and here you are following who you could only recall as strangers. How rude of myself to deprive you of such basic information, I shall fix that at once.”

You’re lost. Like you literally have no clue what he’s hurriedly rambling about, nor why it matters so much. He looks like he feels genuinely guilty about not introducing himself sooner. Well, you guess it is a little unfair that they know your name but you don’t know theirs.

You open your mouth to tell him it’s fine but he beats you to it by offering you sharp smile while speaking.

“I am Herman Carter, The lady over there is Ms. Deshayes. Although most just refer to her as her first name-“

“Charlotte.”

A heavily accented voice interrupts the Doc- eh, Herman. The sister who you now know as Charlotte is peering over her shoulder at the two of you, a small frown planted on her face but she doesn’t seem upset at anything. By now you just assume she always looks a little mad. Meg is the same way back at camp.

“Yes, Charlotte. And her brother Victor, although I suspect you already knew him.”

You nod.

“Quite the respectable pair, Charlotte cares very deeply for her brother. She takes great care of him.”

You nod again.

The rest of the walk is quiet. Your gaze focused mostly on the dirt floor and your own beat up sneakers. Your shoelace is untied, you really want to fix it. 

Now is not the time.

You feel uneasy, like you can already tell that you’re nearing the center of the storm. The wolves den. You almost feel like you’re going to throw up, it isn’t pleasant to try and hide. Whatever curiosity that was convincing you to keep going was starting to wear off. Looking between the two imposing figures on either side of you, you could feel the panic start to crawl back up your spine. Your breathing stuttered for a moment before you forced it to stay under control. You must not have done it quick enough because Herman’s voice rings lowly in your ear, your muscles coiling in defense at the distorted cords.

“Are you doing alright, my spark?”

You hesitate, of course you weren’t doing alright. You're freaked out of your mind and estimate that you’re behind on months of sleep. You feel like shit. Especially because you’re convinced you won’t come out of this alive. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

DID YOU NOT HEAR WHAT HE SAID?!

Herman smiles politely. “You certainly look better than the last time you and I talked.” He muttered with a chuckle in his throat. You definitely don’t feel any better. Although he had a point. Last time he saw you, your mouth and nose were bleeding and you had the imprint of a slap across your face, one you would only expect to be caused from a rough break up.

You’re about to open your mouth and respond when your ears catch the soft crackling sound of fire. Your attention immediately snaps forwards and the first thing you see is a large bonfire not unlike the one on the survivors side. You feel panic, and then confusion. No one is here.

The patch of land is empty, save for some worn stumps beside the fire and an unarmed bear trap. You and Herman both stop while Charlotte approaches the stumps, pulling an item you can’t make out from behind it. Herman must sense your confusion because he offers you an explanation.

“This is the killers fire, although it is rarely populated. Most prefer to dwell within their own realms. A kind few allow their map to be used as public dwellings, they are typically where most of us commune and can be found.”

He clears his throat, before continuing. Charlotte approaches with what appears to be two shattered bottles, the edges of the glass shine when light from the fire touches them. The sight has you taking a minuscule step back, goosebumps pricking your arms and legs.

“We mostly gather in Glenvale, RPD, and occasionally Ormond if the legion will allow it. We’ll be heading to Glenvale for this meeting. I do warn you however, it may be a tad full.”

You recognize all of those names, two of them being to your liking and one being your least favorite map in this whole dimension. You’re actually quite pleased by the fact Glenvale is where he’s taking you, it is your favorite map after all in terms of atmosphere. You aren’t very happy to hear that last part though…

Charlotte offers one of the broken bottles to the Doctor, who takes it gingerly. She then hands you the other bottle which you take cautiously. Afraid she’ll drive that glass straight into your chest, even though she lays her palm as flat as possible. You grip the broken bottle tightly, at least you had a weapon now. But, why did she give this to you?

“In order to enter a realm outside of trial you must destroy a specific item tied to that realm. In Glenvale’s case, it’s this already ruined glass. Please try not to cut yourself, the glass is more fragile than it seems.”

Herman explains it all gently, a patient smile accompanying him the entire time. You look up from the glass and into the small black pupils against a glowing white canvas, aka the Doctor’s eyes, your expression is somewhat awestruck. This is a lot to take in. You didn’t even know you could enter realms outside of trials, let alone be the decider of which one.

Okay.

This is really happening.

Deep breath.

Deep breath.

They’re waiting for you to crack the glass first. There’s no getting out of this now. You meet Charlotte’s stare and she tilts her head down dismissively. Your mouth feels dry when you swallow, you shift the glass around in your hands. Then, with only the slightest bit of pressure you snap the dirtied bottle in half.

“Sois bon.”

That’s all she says.

Immediately fog pours out from the broken glass, dark smoke entrapping your wrists. A small sound of alarm leaves your throat and you hear Herman break his bottle. For a second you think you might actually be being taken away for a trial, but then you notice the same thing is happening to Herman. 

The fog crawls from your wrists up to your shoulders, wrapping itself around your neck and shrouding you in darkness soon after. In the darkness you see flickers of burning orange, you can’t breathe. And you can feel that you can’t breathe, air isn’t reaching your lungs.

You choke.

Then the fog dissipates, fading away and sinking into the now sandy floor. You allow air to re-enter your lungs in a big inhale, and practically choke around the sheer amount of it. The air around you feels warm, a gentle breeze occasionally blowing loose sand from the ground. Looking up reveals wood buildings and abandoned carts, a sign advertising the town as Glenvale sits perfectly above a bright sunset that never moves. Well, the offering definitely worked.

A hand finds your shoulder, your entire body jerks. Instead of screaming you spin around, hand tightening around your attackers wrist and twisting. You only manage to twist their arm to a semi uncomfortable angle before the person's other hand finds yours. They hold your hand still, not attempting to leave your grasp but not allowing you to fight back anymore.

You turn your attention to who you assumed was a stranger intending you harm and- 

Oh. It’s Herman. Not a stranger, but could still intend to harm you… His mouth is a thin line, his eyes somewhat widened in surprise. He holds the jumble of both you and his hands in front of his chest. He’s too close. He is way too close. You are toe to toe with him. You try to take a step back and he lets you. Releasing your hand as you let go of his wrist. He brings both his hands together behind his back politely, a clinical smile now replacing his earlier shock.

“I did not mean to startle, my apologies.” 

You nod almost awkwardly. You are still recovering from that heart attack and preparing for the embarrassment to follow. He continues unbothered.

“You have quite the quick reflexes, my spark, impressive.”

And here comes the embarrassment. You mutter a strained apology which he waves off. You open your mouth again to insist you were out of line for manhandling him like that when your mind buffers. What did he call you? Before you can even ask him to repeat himself, he’s already walking. 

“Come along, we’ve kept Mr. Macmillan waiting for longer than intended. And he’s… somewhat temperamental.”

You stand dumbfounded for only a second longer before hurrying to catch up, purposely staying just a few steps behind for your own state of mind. Something he doesn’t correct this time around. As you walk the sandy roads you pass the gallows. You quickly avert your eyes, a shiver running down your spine. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Herman, who occasionally looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re following. Your footsteps are surprisingly quiet.

He approaches the largest building inside the town, it takes you a moment to recognize it as the Saloon since it seems you are looking at the back of the building. Large walls, a rickety staircase far to the left leading to the balcony, a back door. Well, basically just the frame of one, seeing as there’s no actual back door attached. 

He waits just beside the door for you to enter first, you step up onto the wood foundation. Hesitating at the doors frame, Herman flashes you a sharp smile and reluctantly you step inside. It looks like a tiny back hallway, two openings on either side of the wall in front of you. If you remember correctly, the bar should be on the other side of this wall. You hear noise, much more than you would’ve liked. But when you finally step foot into the actual Saloon everything falls silent. You feel several pairs of eyes fall onto you and burn your flesh with their gaze. There are a lot of people here.

Dangerous people.

You should try running.

Shit.

Chapter Text

Eyes.

A lot of them. All staring at you, and you don’t know what to do.

Feel their gaze burn.

From what you can tell, the saloon seems larger than it usually is during trials. It’s something you didn’t quite notice outside. There’s more pub tables covering the saloon floor, each table coming with anywhere from two to four bar stools around it. Most of the stools are seating a killer, some you recognize. Others you don’t. The building is a lot more full in general than it is during trials, most likely something the Entity does to escalate the chase. 

The atmosphere actually feels like an old western bar, minus the alcohol or music. And more murdery, of course. It could’ve been comforting, in a weird nostalgic way, if it weren’t for the fact that every patron was quiet and giving you their full attention. 

In the back far left, almost hidden in comparison to the other tables. Two figures are sat, the Wraith and the Hillbilly. The Wraiths milky white pupils are focused on you, shrunken in a way that isn’t human. His expression is unreadable but his gaze is intense enough for you to avert your gaze to the disfigured man in front of him.

The Hillbilly looks a lot more tense. His eyes narrow, mouth pulled into a skeptical frown, his lips still slightly parted due to the way his skin stretched itself farther than normal. 

You see one of his hands tighten around something, a strip of cloth it seems. The fabric bunches up in his grip. You just barely see the hammer that he uses when his chainsaw overheats during a trial, clutched in his other hand. Huh… so they can have their weapons outside of trial? That doesn’t bode well for you. 

Another table, 4 new figures sat at it.

This table is situated near an old piano. And judging by the layer of dust you can see from where you’re standing, it hasn’t been used in a long, long time. The keys themselves look cracked, covered in cobwebs and left to wither away from time.

You don't immediately recognize any of the people sitting, not when their masks are nowhere to be seen. With how overwhelmed you currently are, taking in details and connecting the dots is painfully slow. You try to focus on what you can see but, with so much danger all around you it's hard to keep your gaze on one thing.

Okay.

You need to calm down.

They look on the younger side, probably early twenties if you had to guess. That's good, probably means you can stand a chance in a fight. Although not if all four of them come at you at once… you slightly flinch as one of them twists their body to meet your gaze better. The chair under them scraping the wood floor somewhat loudly.

They've all got tattered hoodies on. Two of them, a boy and a girl, are matching with stained grey hoodies under leather jackets. They are sitting beside one another. The man has bandages wrapped around his hands, similarly to the girl beside him, and a large skull tattoo on his lower neck that looks oddly familiar. Their hoods are off but the other girl sitting in front of them has her hood up, it's a teal color somewhat faded. 

It covers most of her face, she's the only person in this saloon who isn't facing you but you can't help but feel she's still staring. Pink hair falls over her shoulders from beneath the hood. A nice color, you note faintly. Not too bright but not faded either. Her hands are held loosely together in her lap, fingers running over her knuckles in a type of fidget.

The man beside her, the one who pushed their chair out slightly to get a better look, is in a black and white hoodie. A small black sling bag is strapped around his right shoulder. Black circles are around his copper eyes, face paint you think. Or maybe charcoal? It's hard to tell. Black leather gloves cover his mahogany skin, his hands grip the edge of the wooden table. 

Oh,

Now you remember.

You know where you've seen that skull tattoo, it belongs to one of the legion members. You remember seeing it when he tackled you to the ground several trials ago. Now armed with that recognition, you can tell that the table houses all of the Legion members, you've been in trial with all of them at least once. Except for the pink haired girl, you think you would have remembered pink hair. 

There's three more tables, the next table you see is smack dab in the middle of the Saloon. And has three people sat at it. A man who you quickly recognize as Ghostface due to the robes and heavy hunting boots, the Clown, and who the other survivors call “the Nightmare” but you actually know his name as Freddy from Quentin. They each have cards in front of them, you're not sure what game they were playing but it seems forgotten now. 

You're not sure what you were expecting Ghostface to look like under the mask but it wasn't this. He looks pretty normal, like an actual citizen of society. His short black hair was messy atop his head, a few longer strands falling over his eyes. And fuck, his eyes. It was like an ombre, closest to the whites of his eyes was obsidian that melted away into a mournful greyish blue as it reached his pupils. Despite the gloomy mix of colors his gaze was intense, sharp. Holding an excitement that made your skin crawl.

The Clown's face was near unreadable, a card held. loosely in one of his hands. Judging by his posture he seems more confused than anything, but it's quickly replaced by indifference as he looks around at the others and seemingly remembers something he had forgotten before. With how silent the place was, you could hear his slightly wheezing breaths.

None of them were expecting you, were they?

Nope, you're kind of a pussy.

The Nightmare, or rather Freddy, wasn't even trying to hide his weird excitement. His light blue eyes gleamed with dangerous amusement. Not quite malicious, at least not yet, but still unnerving. A wolfish smirk took up his scarred face, too sharp teeth poking out from dry lips. Well, dry until he purposely makes a show of wetting them with a tongue that doesn't look fully human. Too pointy at the end. It made you shift uncomfortably.

The table closest to the doorway you're standing at only has two people sitting down. At least it doesn't take you long to recognize these two, the Trapper and the Nurse. It takes you a second longer to register the woman as the nurse, the nearly white blonde hair being the first thing you notice.

Interestingly enough, she still has her face covered whereas every other masked killer seems to be lacking their mask outside of trials. The dirty sack is nowhere to be seen, but dirt stained bandages cover the upper portion of her face. Her mouth and tip of her nose being the only thing visible, you wonder how she can see when her eyes are covered.

You don't even need the mask to know immediately that it's the Trapper in front of her, the build and clothes alone give it away. The soot covered overalls, the small bits of metal and hooks protruding from his broad shoulders, that same burn of his gaze on you from a few trials ago. 

Except this time you can actually see his eyes. They're narrowed, more in exasperation than suspicion. His mouth falls open like he's about to say something before quickly shutting closed again. You notice his shoulders fall as he sighs, losing some of their earlier tension. His hickory colored eyes soften just barley, looking more tired than anything.

At the far right of the Saloon is the last table, sitting only a singular figure. An old worn cowboy hat is tilted down, casting a shadow over the man's ghostly white eyes. The Deathslinger. 

His face is somewhat gruff, fit with an unkept horseshoe stache and a long grizzly scar over his lips. He seems as unbothered as the Clown, actually turning away after taking you in for a few moments. Angling his head back down to stare at his lap, his eyes closing after a few moments. 

All this studying of the details to try and piece together who you're dealing with and recognizing the faces, or rather bodies, of the people around you feels like you've been analyzing for an hour. In reality it's probably only been about thirty seconds of you switching up your stare from person to person. Still, the silence stretches awkwardly.

You register a shift in your peripheral and turn your attention back to the middle of the Saloon, near the door stands the Trickster. Leaning against the old wooden wall, with his arms crossed. A scowl covered his face, he looked annoyed. Well, that's not quite what you expected. He lifts his bright yellow eyes from your body to your stare, his scowl deepening.

“무엇?”

It only takes that single muttered word for all hell to break loose, the once motionless people becoming animated. Some stand up abruptly causing you to take a cautionary step back. The biggest change up however is how loud it gets so fast, multiple voices yell over each other. You can't tell if they're all directed at you but it still makes you panic and take another retreating step back. 

“Holy shit, they actually came!?”

“Hey there hot stu- OW! Don't fucking hit me Danny.”

“Why the hell did you bring- wait, is that..?”

“Would you all shut the hell up?”

All the voices blue together, you can't focus on everyone at once. But you NEED to keep them all in your vision, if you aren't looking they could sneak up on you. Shit. Fuck. You can't do this, you can't do it. You underestimated the danger. This, this is all too much. Too many people. You need to get away from this, you need to leave.

You're surrounded. He's not going to let you leave.

You backup, and hit something solid. It was, to your utter misfortune, not a wall. You look up over your shoulder and see Herman directly behind you, blocking your exit away from everyone's gaze. He has a perplexed expression carved into his face, he meets your eyes and for some reason he looks so much scarier at this moment.

You hear another chair scrape, someone standing up no doubt. You can't even make out the yelling anymore, just the fact that it is too loud and too much. You press your back harder into his chest, trying to wordlessly beg. He doesn't even budge, rejecting your plea.

A small panicked noise leaves your throat. You need to get away from all this. He's your only hope. You don't even care about losing sight of everyone as you turn to stand chest to chest with Herman, anything to get you out faster. You can barely breathe, your throat feels tight.

“Herman.”

Your voice is barely a whisper, but you know he hears you by the way his head tilts further down to show you, you have his attention.

“I… I can't.”

His eyes soften into something pitying, you don't want pity. His gaze momentarily flicks up at all the others inside the saloon before falling back to you. You don't want to know how close they might be right now. He leans down slightly, and when he speaks his voice is low. Matching your shaky whisper with his own calm one.

“I understand my dear, but-” 

You don't wait for him to finish, you're desperate. You reach up and firmly plant your hands on his chest, and give a half-assed push. He doesn't move.

“Please. Herman,”

He opens his mouth but you interrupt him again. If your hands weren't bundled in the fabric of his coat then you're sure they'd be shaking. 

“I can't, I… p-please I want to leave!”

You try to keep your voice down but it's getting harder to keep yourself composed. You don't want the killers to hear you, or see you, or touch, or- okay well you just don't want to be anywhere near them.

You're about to look back and assess how much time you have before you're dragged out and beaten but then you feel Herman’s chest pull away from your hands. He takes a step to the side, allowing an opening. You waste no time in pushing past him

You were on your way to leaving through the back door you came in from when Herman calls your name so softly you're forced to pause. And then reluctantly turn around. He's shifted himself back in front of the doorway, now standing a little taller. Almost as if he's trying to better cover you from prying eyes. 

Okay, it's okay. Calm down. They can't see you anymore. 

Now's your chance to go. Why are you waiting?

Every one of your nerves feel as though they are under attack. You're way too aware of the small hallway you're stood in, of the loud conversations being held just a wall away, of Herman's concerned gaze on you. 

“I-I’m sorry Herman I-”

Your voice cracks at the end, sounding more pathetic than either of you were expecting. You were right, your hands are shaking. Small tremors shooting through your fingers until you clench them into tight fists in front of you. You can't even look at him, can't face the potential danger in front of you. You watch as he lifts his palms, reaching out for you. You don't want to be touched, to even be perceived. You lean away but that doesn't deter him, if he even noticed. Much to your dismay he softly grabs you by the shoulders, the action feels like an experiment. Like he isn't used to using such a gentle approach.

“Spark.”

You shake your head firmly. You don't want to hear it, you want to leave. You don't care how far in you already are, you're leaving.

When did your breathing become so uneven? You barely realized how harshly you were inhaling. Shit don't cry. That would be so fucking pathetic.

Nothing new.

You open your mouth to speak but can't seem to force anything out, not even an apology for bailing. Just a near inaudible whimper voicing your dislike. 

“I… I understand your worries, my spark. Could you look at me?” 

He insisted slowly, tone calm and steady. His thumbs rubbed comforting circles over your shoulder blades. Something that wasn't as effective in comforting you, because you could feel how restrained it was. How new it was for him. How big the gap for something to go wrong right now is.

Your head feels heavy as you pull it up to meet his softened glowing gaze. For once he didn't wear a smile of any kind, just a small frown. It surprised you how wrong you felt it looked on his face.

“Spark,”

Wait, how long has he been calling you that? 

“I know this may be overwhelming, I do apologize for the full house, but I'm afraid now may be a little late to postpone again.” 

You aren't convinced. Of course this is overwhelming, did he not see how some of the other killers were staring at you? 

“I absolutely promise you, for as long as I am with you I will let no harm come your way. I know I am in no position to ask but for trust but I beg of you to try.”

God, why does he plead with you so often. You're really not worth all that effort, and you can't see why this all just being a plan to hurt you would warrant this effort either. Still, you can't help but feel like he'll meet any rejection with more desperate begging. After a moment he pulls his hands away from your shoulders, reaching into one of his inner coat pockets. He pulls out a single, small piece of charcoal. Letting it rest on his open palm as he offers it to you.

“Just like the bottle, this works as transportation to another realm. Breaking it will bring you back to a fire, although I'm not certain if it would be mine or yours.”

Fuck, were you really about to give him the benefit of the doubt at a time like this? You eye the piece of coal with a hardened glare, why does every choice have to matter so much?

“Please my spark, speak with MacMillan. If for whatever reason you feel unsafe you can destroy the coal and leave quickly. All I ask is that you give it a chance.”

You hesitate, you do feel more composed. If you did walk back out there, you'd know what to expect this time… You also realized the yelling stopped. You aren't quite sure if that makes you feel better but it does help your blooming headache.

You take a long, steadying breath. Your voice comes out quiet but balanced, no longer choked up with emotions or shaking. You gingerly pluck the coal from his palm, thinking briefly about just using it now, before sighing and dropping it into your pant pocket.

“I don't want to do this…”

Herman's solemn face cracks, giving you a sympathetic grin.

“I know, dear, thank you.”

A head pops up over Herman's shoulder. Messy hair, and black ombre eyes. Ghostface. His sharp gaze finds you immediately and the corner of his eyes crinkle in delight as he smirks. 

“What the hell Cartie, not going to introduce anyone to your new friend?” 

His tone is teasing, his smirks falling into a boyish grin. Herman on the other hand looks irritated more than anything, any prior softness melting away into a cold glare. It's almost scary how fast he switched up.

“Mr. Johnson. How often have I reminded you it's Carter, not ‘Cartie’?” 

Wow, polite and scary. Something you assume only Herman is capable of doing. Ghostface seems unbothered by the passive aggressiveness, rolling his eyes briefly before regarding you.

“Hey there dove, been a while since I've seen your pretty face around.”

He remarks so casually you almost miss the flirt. What do you even say to that? Why did he say that? Are you blushing? Your face does feel a little hotter, but that could also be from holding back tears earlier. 

“Uhm…"

Yeah you're at a blank, this is new. Probably bad new. The pause stretches on awkwardly and Herman flashes you an apologetic look. Ghost face on the other hand stares at you with a darker glint to his eye, his tone lowering.

“Y'know dove, I could have sworn last time we saw each other I told you to wait.” 

…

Oh.

That felt threatening. 

Herman must notice the way you shrink in on yourself because he looks over his shoulder to glare daggers at the boy behind him. You don't respond, but your hand does brush over your pants pocket unconsciously. 

Ghostface goes to speak again before he flinches and the devilish smirk disappears from his face. Another person has joined you and Herman back here. A large, imposing form that lays a heavy hand on Ghostface’s shoulder. Engulfing his entire shoulder in one, single, palm.

The Trapper. 

His dark hickory eyes flicker to you for a moment before focusing on Herman, acknowledging him with a nod before speaking.

“Doc, you brought t’em?”

Herman beams proudly at that question, turning his entire body towards the larger man. His voice was cheerful as he responded.

“Yes! I told you I would, did I not?”

The Trapper merely hums in response, arms crossing over his chest. He sports a tired expression, looking almost overworked. He directs his tired eyes to Ghostface beside him, giving him a pointed glare.

“Didn't I tell y'all that if you can't control yourself t’ leave?” 

Ghostface looks slightly nervous but it doesn't show in his voice when he makes his remarks, instead his tone is steady and teasing. A small smirk gracing his face again.

“Not sure I remember hearing that.”

He draws out the last part, earning a groan from the Trapper. He continues anyway.

“But if you did, you totally didn't specify which way to leave.” 

He grins slyly. 

“Don't worry though pops, I'm being good.”

That earns him a doubtful look, and Herman mutters something you can't quite make out. Before you can fully react, Herman grips your hand and pulls you forward in front of him, thankfully both Ghostface and Trapper take a step back. It still doesn't feel good to be presented like this. Herman introduces you to them and they nod, both seemingly already knowing who you are.

Okay seriously, who gave them your name?

Herman starts introducing the Trapper but he beats him to it.

“This is Mr. Macmillan, he's-”

“No need for the formalities, Evan is fine.” 

Got it, the Trapper's name is Evan. Okay, wow. Never thought you'd have this information but you do now. Probably better than addressing him as Mister, which was your original plan. You don't really want to upset him, he seems a little… rough around the edges to put it nicely.

Ghostface leans in closer, encroaching on your personal bubble with an excited smile.

“Name's Danny, but my victims call me Jed.”

Definitely going to go with Danny, you do not want to encourage his predatory teasing. You can already tell he enjoys the way you squirm way too much. Herman tells him off though, reminding him to be polite. 

“Um, hi?” You say meekly, looking between both of them. Better than nothing you suppose.

Herman then turns you slightly to meet your eyes with an hopeful expression.

“My dear, are you ready?” 

Right, you're here for a reason. It's just talking. Herman promised. Fuck, since when were you just believing a killers word without proof? Ugh, you should have never gone back to that stupid river. You feel the small piece of coal weighing heavily in your pocket, you can leave at any time… if that part was even true.

“yes.”

Don't say the wrong thing.

With your agreement, Evan turns. Going back into the saloon. You were expecting Danny to do the same thing but instead he brushes past you and Herman, heading for the back door. Not without one last eerie message for you to overthink and panic because.

“Good luck, dove.”

You pause at the doorway, are you really ready? Herman lays a hand on your back, and you flinch slightly. He flashes you one of his reassuring smiles, “I’ll be right there with you.”

He promises. Sidestepping you and going out first, you follow closely behind him. Trying to walk in sync beside him to better hide yourself, it probably doesn't work but you do feel a little better doing it.

The saloon is more cleared out now, apparently some people did listen to Evan. 

Freddy, Clown, Nurse, Danny of course, Hillbilly, and Wraith are all gone. There's still more killers than you would have liked, but it's better than before.

The legion seems to be in their own conversation and the Deathslinger and Trickster are minding their business. A part of you is thankful that Evan thought about it enough to create more space, but that nagging feeling of anxiety doesn't let it spread too far.

Evan is already sitting down at the table he was at earlier, Herman doesn't sit down but he does pull out a chair for you. You quietly thank him and sit down, Herman moving to stand behind you and you immediately feeling nauseous with Evans full attention on you. His hands rest on the table, palms closed into loose fists. You reluctantly hold his gaze and for a second he actually seems intrigued. And then he sighs.

“Let's just get this done.”

Chapter Text

Previously…

Evan is already sitting down at the table he was at earlier, Herman doesn't sit down but he does pull out a chair for you. You quietly thank him and sit down, Herman moving to stand behind you and you immediately feeling nauseous with Evans full attention on you. His hands rest on the table, palms closed into loose fists. You reluctantly hold his gaze and for a second he actually seems intrigued. And then he sighs.

“Let's just get this done.”

You give a curt nod, glad he wants this to be over as much as you do. Although now you're thinking he said that more to himself and there was no real point in nodding. Great, you're already overthinking how the hell you're supposed to talk to him. 

Okay just pretend he isn't a killer and have a conversation with him like you would any normal person, well fuck, when was the last time you had a conversation with someone normal?! You barely talk to Kate or your other friends anymore, and when you do it's almost always awkward.

Yeah, you definitely weren't ready for this.

Wait, how long have you been overthinking this? Was he talking? Oh gosh you really hope he wasn't speaking, because if he was you captured absolutely none of it. 

This is a disaster.

Thankfully, getting out of your anxiety riddled mind it seems Evan is just as lost in thought as you were. His sunken gaze steady on the portion of table between his fists. Honestly, if you had to guess, it looks like he's trying to figure out how to start this. He has as much of an idea of how to speak with someone on the other side as you do. Eventually, after a tense few minutes he looks up and speaks. Only startling you a little because you were getting used to the quiet.

“So…”

He starts, drawing out the “o” as he ponders his next words.

“The other survivors off-ing ya instead of us?”

Well, that's definitely straight to the point.

“Ever the bluntest, hm Evan?” Herman pipes up from behind you, and you can almost hear the strain in his voice with his friend's approach to the matter. Are they even friends? You actually aren't sure.

Evan on the other hand just ignores him, staring at you expectantly for an answer. And you don't take him as the patient type so you should definitely give him one as soon as you can muster up some words

So you aren't just a pretty face? Got a brain too sometimes.

“Uh yeah, pretty much” 

You were afraid you had spoken too quietly since he gave you no indicator of hearing you, but just as you were about to repeat yourself he let out a hum of acknowledgement. 

“Why?”

While Herman immediately remarks on how stupid that question is, you freeze. Tilting your head down to stare into your lap. They don't know… they don't know about your curse? 

…

You can't tell them.

Whether they are actually planning on helping you or not, if you tell them “oh yeah, everytime someone kills me they get a special surprise from the Entity.”

…

Fuck the Entity this is it's fault.

Ha.

If they know then it will be like the survivors all over again. Hunted like a damn rabbit every trial. Just thinking about one of the killers fighting with the survivors over your bloodied body, arguing over who gets to steal your last breath has you wanting to throw up. Would they team up? It doesn't sound like an impossible thought.

“Evan, you must know how silly that question is, if they knew the reason for their partner's madness would we really have to intervene like this?”

Herman rebukes immediately, but Evan interjects.

“Ya sure bout’ that Carter?” 

You vaguely recognize him gesturing towards you in your peripheral vision and of course a surge of panic runs through you. Quick, get that fearful expression off your face. You weren't expecting Evan to actually notice the way you immediately spaced out and shrunk in on yourself. 

Apparently you didn't play it off fast enough because you feel Herman's hands rest gently on your shoulders, he doesn't make any attempts to move into your line of vision but you can tell he doesn't need to.

“My dear, are you aware of the reason for your betrayal?”

The question is asked with nothing but confusion, just a pure interest for the answer. But to you, it feels like a threat. Like suddenly you are walking a thin line between life and death and are tipping. You can't tell him the truth. You can't tell anyone the truth, never again.

Tell them.

“No.”

It honestly surprises you how steady you were able to answer, especially given the fact it was a lie. The room was tense for a few moments and you definitely held your breath. Looking up, Evan had you trapped with a scrutinizing glare, noting every twitch of your tense muscles. It was like he was dissecting you with his gaze alone. Why did he lean in? When did he lean in? You want to back up but Herman's behind you.

Fuck.

Evan knows you're lying doesn't he? He's going to call you out. Shit they were going to hate you no matter what.

Instead, Evan just leaned back with a shrug.

“Interestin”

You let out the breath you'd been holding. Looks like you're in the clear. Despite having gotten an answer and, as far as you're concerned, believing it, Herman still had his fingers lightly hooked around your shoulders. Risking a glance up, he wasn't even looking at you. Guess he's content to keep them there… and you're too awkward to say anything. 

Your attention is pulled back towards Evan as he clears his throat, dragging a large, scarred palm down his face in a show of exasperation. Wow, he's got big hands. Could definitely snap your neck in a second. 

Which might have been a scary thought if not for the fact you practically beg the Entity for a quicker demise almost every trial. So honestly, it would be a mercy compared to what other violence the people in this room could do to you.

“And this sorta thing happen every trial?”

“Huh?”

“A teammate killin ya.”

“Oh… I usually hide during trials, b-but if they find me then yes.”

“Mhm, and I suppose you usually don't escape a trial?”

“Ah, no. I stay hidden until the Entity brings me back to the fire after the hatch is closed”

Why are you just telling him your strategy for every trial, what if they all start waiting to close the hatch like the Legion did that one time? You really gotta give your words more thought.

“And it jus’ a select few who try an’ hurt ya?”

“W-well, it's usually the same people killing me but m…most of the others just help them find me or completely ignore what they're doing.”

Evan nods, a perplexed expression finding its way onto his face and causing his brows to furrow. 

“An’ have you tried fighting back?”

His gruff voice held an almost accusatory tone. It honestly made you a little upset, of course you've tried fighting back! You try every damn time to escape when they catch you, fight tooth and nail until the very end. It's not your fault there's usually more than one of them trying to kill you. Or the fact most of them outdo you in strength. BUT YOU STILL FUCKING TRY EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Maybe you just look that pathetic.

“Yes.” 

You can't manage any more than that without being afraid your anger will slip through causing you to get hurt. Even then, there's a hint of venom in the way you said it that could very well be enough for him to lash out. But instead of lashing out he lets out a single puff of air, like a soft laugh but devoid of any humor.

“God this really is a fucking problem.”

He says more to himself than anyone else, but you can't help but answer.

“Uhm… not to be rude. But isn't it like, your entire goal to have me dead at the end of the trial? How is this affecting you?”

You try to sound as gentle as possible to avoid coming off in any sort of negative way but Evan just looks more stressed and frustrated once you finish speaking. Welp, you just shouldn't have said anything. Fuck you, you guess.

Evan opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by a familiar voice coming from the left. 

“It doesn't work that way.”

You don't even have to turn around, as the man quickly pulls a stool up to one of the empty sides of the table. 

Plopping down on his chair and immediately turning to you, and oh. It's the legion dude again. At least it isn't a new face. Well, it kinda is seeing as this is the first time you've seen his face but whatever. 

Evan regards his intrusion somewhat bewilderedly.

“Cant’cha see I'm in the middle of something?”

Evan sounds less than happy, which is definitely scary but at least it isn't directed towards you. For now. The legion member on the other hand matches his annoyed tone almost perfectly. You wish you had that much confidence. Although this could just be stupidity, you'll have to see where this goes to know for sure.

“Yeah? Well you're about to blow a fuse dude. Just let me handle it.”

Despite his delivery sounding like he's leaving no room for argument, you have a feeling he doesn't harbor much authority against the giant of a man in front of him. It's almost funny thinking about them fighting, It'd be like a bear against a singular wolf. Thankfully for that wolf, it seems the bear is avoiding a fight.

Evan lets out a reluctant sigh before gesturing for him to continue, which he immediately does. Light brown eyes meet yours in a serious matter, and when he speaks his voice is surprisingly deep. 

Not quite what you'd expect given he looks to be on the younger side but it isn't unpleasant. You actually find that you like it when it isn't yelling at you to stop struggling. Yeah you're not forgetting the fact he fucking tackled you during a trial. He's heavier than he looks.

“Alright, are you familiar with the Mori system?” He starts.

“The… Mori system?”

He doesn't seem deterred by your confusion, so that's a good sign that you might have some leeway with knowing absolutely nothing about this realm.

“Yeah, a Mori is like when we kill you ourselves instead of you being hooked and the Entity taking you.” 

He explains, making a slightly crude gesture of stabbing his palm. And you can only assume the palm is supposed to be ‘you’.

“Oh, yeah I know what you're talking about.”

You do recall several times one of your teammates died before their third hook. Although you mostly see it happen when you're hiding from Michael in trials. 

The Nurse did choke you out one time instead of hooking you. Hm, you wonder if she knows about your curse. Maybe she's just keeping the information to herself so she can get the upper hand in targeting you. You're pulled out of your thoughts by the legion member continuing.

“Alright well in order for one of us to Mori a survivor we have to earn it from the Entity by performing well in trials and other shit like that-”

He breaks off to take a breath and gather his thoughts, although his pause isn't long 

“Emphasis on ‘earn it’. The Entity fucking hates it when one of us Mori’s a survivor without it's permission, and I mean it like totally freaks and we get punished. Doesn't matter how damn annoying y'all are being.”

The “ya’ll” definitely felt a little personal but whatever, you get it. At least you're learning a lot. You thought they simply preferred to hook the survivors, you didn't know they didn't have a choice. It's a lot to take in, how this horrible game of cat and mouse works for them. But no matter how lost you are, you decide to nod along anyway like you understood.

“You would think, having one less bitch to chase around would be great right?”

Ouch. That one less bitch to chase around is literally sitting right in front of him.

“Well every time one of your teammates kills you in trial the Entity thinks we're Mori’ing you without permission. Aka us getting our shit rocked everytime they bleh you”

He ends his rant by dragging his thumb across his throat and making a choked sound. 

…

At least with context you know he isn't making a death threat towards you. Still doesn't feel good though. You're probably just being sensitive though.

“Oh, I uh… definitely see how this is a problem for you now.”

So they're just doing this for themselves…

It doesn't make you sad. Or angry. You knew there was some sort of catch. A killer going out of the way to help you, and for what? Because they know what's happening to you is wrong? Ha, glad you never believed that or this revelation might've hurt. Haha no, you didn't believe that. Nope. Definitely not. Ha.

You feel a weird burn behind your eyes, probably the dust of the Saloon. This place could definitely use a little maintenance.

“Thanks, uhh…”

You just realized this is like the third time you've spoken to this dude and you still have no clue what his name is. He seems to realize this as well since he snaps his fingers to wave off the awkwardness and introduces himself.

“Shit right… I'm Frank,”

He then points behind you and you twist your body, ignoring the way Herman's fists tighten around your shoulders, and see the rest of the legion members still sat the table Frank came from. Their conversation pauses as they redirect their focus to your table, well more specifically you.

“Dude with the face paint is Joey,”

The man doesn't smile but he has an incredibly kind look in his eyes, he speaks a soft “sup” before Frank moves on.

“Girl with the pink hair is Susie, she's uh sorta shy,”

He whispers the last part.

Although Susie doesn't meet your eyes she does lift a palm from her lap and gives you a small wave, you're tempted to return it but decide against it in the end. Herman didn't get a wave so no one does, you reason in your head.

“And the other one is Julie.”

Julie gives you a quick up and down and… doesn't seem impressed with the results. Her lips purse but she doesn't say anything, nor does she give any type of greeting whatsoever. She instead turns back away.

A warm welcome here for sure…

Get over it.

You chose to just ignore the somewhat demeaning behavior and say a hello of your own, which the other two seem to appreciate.

You're in the process of turning back around when your gaze catches another. Bright yellow and narrowed in a glare that you're starting to think is permanent for him. Great… The Trickster is staring at you again. He's the whole reason you had that little episode in the first place.

Apparently you held his gaze a little too long because instead of going back to ignoring you like you had hoped, he pushes himself off the wall and makes a very dramatic approach to your table.

Stopping in front of you, notably he stands straighter instead of bending down to be at eye level. It's almost like he wants to highlight the power difference between you and him.

You almost miss the feeling of Herman leaning over you entirely, but the feeling of his chest meeting the back of your head and his midsection leaning slightly on your back causes you to look up. Herman is giving the Trickster a very irritated look. His lips pulling into a displeased scowl.

The Trickster on the other hand regards you with a very judgemental stare, speaking again in a language you can't decipher. Although it's muttered in a way you assume he's just talking to himself.

“마침내, 그 몸에 어울리는 얼굴이 생겼습니다.”

He seemingly muses. You try to turn away to toss a pleading stare to Evan for him to do something but the Trickster's hand swiftly stops you. Sharp nails dig into your cheek and keep your head angled up towards him. 

The sudden rough treatment unfortunately pulls a startled yelp from you that you couldn't stop despite your best effort. The Trickster's lips twitch up in a prideful smirk for a second before quickly falling back into a disgusted frown.

In your peripheral you see Frank jump in his seat and Evan leaning over the table in caution, both look like they want to do something but are too stunned by the display to do anything. 

What you weren't expecting was to feel Herman's grip tighten and an uncontrolled shock to run through your body, almost pulling another sound out of you. Thankfully it wasn't powerful enough to do any real damage but it definitely left a sting.

“몸은 팽창 없이는 견딜만해졌지만, 불행히도 여전히 약간 질퍽합니다.”

He mumbles somewhat disappointedly while squeezing your face tighter.

“음, 그다지 잘 관리되지 않은 생물이에요. 다른 쓰레기들처럼 온몸이 더러워요.”

His gaze leaves your face to rake down your body, the absolute invasion you feel in the process is enough for you to wrap your arms around yourself protectively. His eyes flick up back to your face.

“많이 무서워하는 거 맞죠? 당신은 정말 특별한 사람이 아니에요.”

You think there was a question in there but honestly you're totally lost. He's in the process of turning your face left and right before he finally says something you can understand.

“Cuter than expected.”

Out of all the fucking things he could say that you'd understand. Why the hell did it have to be that?! Was that even a compliment? What the actual fuck. You gotta get this dude away from you, you're gonna crack if he keeps staring at you like that. 

“Dude-”

Frank starts but surprisingly is interrupted by Herman letting go of your shoulders just before a loud crackle of electricity escapes his balled up fists. He forces his way in front of you, effectively making the Trickster release your face. You rub your sore cheek, that bastard better not of left a bruise.

“Do you have a purpose for being here? You don't typically reside here post trial.”

Herman's voice sounds strained with thinning control, faintly you see some veins on his wrists glow an icy blue. They pulse almost angrily with electricity. Damn. Herman looks scary. You don't think he'd turn it towards you but you still push your chair just the slightest bit farther from the conflict.

You did want help, but you weren't expecting any of them to get this riled up over the Trickster's actions. Your heart jumps uncomfortably in your chest, but that's probably just anxiety. Yup. Definitely JUST anxiety.

The Trickster doesn't look the slightest bit intimidated, he looks just as pissed as Herman about the interruption. He opens his mouth to speak, why are his canines so sharp? They look like fangs, but Herman cuts him off before he even starts.

“We are in the middle of a very important discussion, we don't have time for mindless distractions.”

Herman's voice sounds more distorted than usual. A tell to how he's feeling perhaps? You'd try to keep an eye on it. Any upper hand to dealing with these people is much needed.

Instead of arguing the Trickster raises his hands in surrender, muttering what you can only assume is a curse under his breath. He pauses his retreat to meet your gaze one last time and points to himself.

“ji-woon”

Well now you have a name for the face. You hate that it's going to be stuck in your head all day. 

And just like that he exits the saloon. The silence after is almost suffocating. You flinch as Evan stands up, but to your relief his attention isn't on you. It's on Herman, who looks a lot calmer now that the Trick- uh, Ji-woon is gone.

“Doc, a word?”

Evan doesn't sound angry but there's definitely an urgency in his tone.

“Of course.”

And with that Herman and Evan step back into that little back hallway you were spiraling in earlier. You turn your head to Frank just as he does the same to you.

For a moment you both just stare confusedly at each other. It actually doesn't feel awkward like the silence usually does, it's almost comfortable. Like for once in this impossible world, you both understand the same thing. But before long Frank breaks the silence.

“Ignore that walking highlighter, he's a fucking creep.”

You simply nod. You appreciate his effort in the matter. But damn, you're exhausted. This entire thing was a giant leap of faith for you and it's taking a toll on your body for sure. Maybe you'll be able to find time for a nap before your next trial. Maybe right now if you can find a way to sneak away…

Nope.

It seems like just thinking about your next trial triggered it. The telltale feeling of being pulled and submerged in tar alerting you way before smoke starts to pool around your feet and climb up your legs. Frank gives a small huff, standing up himself. 

“I'll let 'em know you got pulled for trial, goodluck.”

You manage a small smile.

“Thanks.”

And then you're dragged under.

(Extra tidbit)

As soon as you're gone Frank returns to his group of friends, already prepared for all the questions of what he thinks about you.

Meanwhile with Evan and Herman,

Evan crosses his arms and regards his friend with an arched brow. Under his usual layer of tiredness he sounds genuinely interested.

“The hell was that Carter? Haven't seen you get that worked up in a while.”

Herman feels a spike of left over adrenaline run up his spine. He was pissed, no, he was absolutely fuming when he was dealing with Ji-woon. He had said it was because he was interrupting in the meeting. But in all honesty, he isn't sure why he got so upset.

“Whatever do you mean?

Evan just chuckles.

“Don't bullshit me, I know you don't like the guy but I thought you were gonna fight him. Yer hands were lighting up like a damn firework.”

Herman glares although it doesn't hold any real maliciousness. He just wants Evan to stop before he gets ahead of himself and makes an assumption that is wildly untrue. 

“Evan.”

Evan on the other hand looks more amused than anything. Smirking now.

“Was it because he put his hands on them? That something only you can do mister shoulders?”

“What are you implying, my dear friend?” 

“Come on, were you giving them a massage or something? What was the whole grabbing thing doc?”

And he's already a mile ahead of himself. So much for de-escalating this before it got out of hand. But… thinking a little more, his rage did start when he put his filthy hands on his spark. 

Manhandling them like they were some sort of object. A broken one at that. Gosh, he tried so hard to keep himself composed. But the fact Ji-woon had the audacity to comment on your features like they were sub-par at best. He couldn't recognize beauty if it slapped him in the face. 

Vaguely Herman realizes his veins are starting to glow again and he forces himself to calm down. Inhaling deeply and imaging your hand encompassing his arm again. That oddly addicting look of fire in your eyes. 

That fight. 

When Evan asked you if you've tried fighting back, he almost laughed. You're definitely a fighter. You're fast, you're smart, the only thing you lack is a greater physical strength than your foes. But that could be combated with a little more coordination, maybe some strategy.

He almost wants to go against you, just to see that determination you have to live again. To feel that fight, to take it. Not extinguishing a flame, but controlling it. He feels tingly, like electricity is coursing through his body with nowhere to escape from. But this isn't his electricity, it feels different. More soft instead of sharp. 

…

They're pretty soft.

“Herman.”

Evan sounds serious now.

“Hm?”

“Whatever it is, don't get attached. They're still a survivor.”

…

He's right.

He always is, isn't he?

“I know, I won't.”

Chapter Text

Limpness. You can’t move.

Blindness. All you see is the random bits of color that dances behind your eyes.

You feel the Entity’s fog curl around your lungs and squeeze.

We know this already.

Usually it feels like you’re falling, but not this time. You feel shaky, like you’re about to fall but haven’t yet. This weird purgatory-like state between dimension travel usually feels cold.

Hell this entire realm is almost always freezing, but you feel warm. Uncomfortably hot actually. The side of one of your thighs burns, like a lit piece of coal. You’d scream but your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton, you can’t even open it. 

Oh?

And then it’s over. You open your eyes.

The first thing you register is that you’re in Midwich. Not your favorite, it’s hard to hide in inside maps. Though, you do take art supplies from here every now and again. You need to pass the time in other ways then getting yourself into trouble at the river, or else it would get old.

You generated into one of the many class rooms, desks scattered around you and shelves nearly empty. The floor is a germaphobe's biggest nightmare, covered in grime and filth. You briefly wonder if you’ll catch a disease simply by standing on it, and then wonder if you even can get sick in the Entity’s realm. You don’t think you can, but… probably best not to risk it. It’s useless to assume anything about this dimension, something’s always changing. 

Your first steps of the trial are confident. Foolishly so. You make it out of the class room and into the long hallway ahead. Rusted shut lockers line the walls, and to your left looks like a staircase downstairs. For now however, you think you’re going to stay upstairs. Maybe you can hide under a desk or something.

You make it halfway down your current hallway, hating how loud your footsteps sounded against the eroded tile, before taking a sharp right turn straight into something solid.

You mean SOMEONE solid.

“Oomph!” You stumble over your own feet, managing to catch yourself but ending up biting your tongue in the process. Ouch. Your panic only escalates as you assume it’s another survivor you ran into, your heartbeat hammering. Except your heartbeat doesn’t settle down, it pulses faster. Feeling like it’s going to break your ribs and burst out your chest.

The first thing you notice is the pair of black leather work boots and unnaturally heavy breathing. Following up the person’s long, well built legs it’s around their mid section that you realize they’re wearing dark navy blue coveralls. The fabric is stained purplish-red in some places, and you can only assume the worst for how they got there.

One large scarred hand is clenched in a tight fist while the other clutches a very long, very sharp looking kitchen knife. Their arm is just slightly raised outside of what you’d think is a normal idle position, the tip of the blade tilted up towards your chest. Like the person made a split second decision change to not immediately stab you.

You try to stagger back from whoever you hit, though you have an idea of who it might be, but a large palm stops you. Your back hits a locker door, a warm hand pinning you from just below your collar bone. He didn’t exactly slam you into the locker but you wouldn’t have called it gentle. It definitely had a force behind it, and the restraint made you gulp nervously.

Craning your head up uncomfortably high proves what you were currently fearing. An expressionless white latex mask greets your vision. Complete with soulless black eyeholes and matted brunette hair. The Shape. Or rather Michael Myers as you’ve learned from some of Laurie’s stories. Hm, you like Laurie. You aren’t friends and you never really talk but she works really hard every trial to survive, it’s admirable.

Okay but now is most definitely NOT the time.

Michael’s head tilts down to meet your eyes. You can barely see his, you have to really focus on the dark abyss of the mask's eyeholes to catch mismatched eyes staring at you. You can’t tell the color of his right eye due to the darkness, but you think they’re either gray or blue. His left eye on the other hand doesn’t seem to have a defined iris, it all looks pretty foggy. Like he’s blind, or maybe has a defect in that eye?

After about fifteen seconds of neither of you moving, you because you’re afraid it’ll set him off if you try to push him away, and him for reasons you haven’t figured out yet. He cocks his head to the right, almost like a dog. A very large, very scary, murderous dog. While he technically hasn’t done anything yet, he also hasn’t lowered the blade any. 

“Uh,” Words fail you almost immediately after you try. You don’t care if some of the other killers have spared you, Michael is scary. Michael will kill you. And from what you’ve overheard from Laurie, he will enjoy it and give it no second thought. He’s brutal, you’ve figured that out on your own from past trials. 

To your shock he lowers his empty hand, no longer keeping you against the locker. Although you were pinned there more by fear then the actual pressure his palm was presenting. He didn’t step back from where he was stood in front of you, but you did have enough room to slip away without having to push him back.

…

You need to get away from him. He’s going to hurt you, and it might just be worse than what the other survivors have done to you. Just backup slowly. Where was that staircase again? You startle as a harsh, muffled exhale leaves his masked lips. Oh god, you messed up. You’re going to die. 

You’re a pessimist aren’t you?

Why hasn’t he moved yet? Why hasn’t he stopped your retreat?

You should take this chance while you still have it.

“Sorry for bumping in… into you, Sorry, bye!” You whisper shout quickly while turning and basically booking it through the hallway towards the stairs, you look back several times to make sure you’re not being chased despite never hearing any footsteps. 

You almost trip on the last step with how quick your descent is but thankfully don't. The stairs leave you in yet another hallway lined with classrooms. It also, however, is right beside the basement. You don't typically hide in the basement, since it only has one exit and is kinda gross. But, you really need somewhere to go. Michael is not someone you want to risk running into again, it's honestly a miracle you got away unscathed. 

It is a pretty high risk… maybe it would just be better to wait in a classroom? You haven't checked who your teammates are yet, so maybe it'll be fine? A quick dip into sixth sense tells you your teammates are Ash, Nea, and Haddie. 

Yeah, let's not take any chances.

Worst case scenario he hooks another survivor down there and you have to hide in a locker. 

Er, well, worst case scenario he finds you again and YOU get hooked. 

…

Eh,

High risk, high reward. 

With your mind finally made up, you make your way down the basement stairs.

The grating sound of heavy metal scraping against itself rings out across the map. They've actually managed to open the exit gate, against Michael of all killers. No one usually gets this far except Laurie with him, not even you when you're hiding. Your best guess is that he was distracted or something, but you can’t be sure.

Haddie and Ash have both been hooked twice, Ash having been unhooked not even five minutes ago. And Nea has only been hooked once. You haven't seen Michael since the beginning of the trial, nor has anyone come to the basement for any reason. You ended up getting bored and opening the chest that’s always down here, you got a toolbox. Not something you really need but you’ll hold on to it anyway.

With one of the gates now open, you have about thirty minutes to escape before the Entity collects you. And that sums up your current delima. You're standing in front of the first step of the basement stairs, trying to decide whether or not you should try to escape or just wait for the Entity.

Hmmm…

Usually this wouldn’t even be a problem for you, your routine is simply to never leave hiding. But, maybe all that talk of Laurie’s will to live earlier rubbed off on you. You don’t want to die.

Ha,

You don’t want to die?

It’s been a while since you’ve really meant that. It’s never been like you’re actively looking for a way to die, but between just simply dying or fighting to survive, you usually choose to let yourself die quickly. It’s less work, and then you just get to try again.

But, you really don’t want to die. You ignore the small shake in your fingers, you aren’t scared. You shouldn’t be. You’ve died many times. So… why are you afraid of the pain now? It never gets easier, sure, but you know it’ll disappear when you regenerate. Why does this feel like it’ll hurt a hundred times more?

…

You’re going to escape this trial.

Peering down the hallway assures you that no one is nearby, that doesn’t stop you from inwardly cringing when the last step at the top of the basement creaks as you step off it. With your newly acquired toolbox in hand, you make your way down the hall. You almost always get lost when traversing Midwich but hopefully you can beat the endgame timer to the exit anyway. 

You could be wrong, but you feel like the courtyard is nearby. You’re trying to find the courtyard because you know you can go straight from either of its entrances and end up at an exit gate. Turning a corner shows you your intuition was correct as you’re now in between the courtyard and an exit gate.

One problem.

You quickly realize that this is the wrong gate. And worst of all, it has absolutely no progress on it. You aren’t sure if the rest of your team has escaped yet, and you’re too antsy to properly check with sixth sense to see if they did, so you’re pretty afraid of running into someone before you get to the gate.

Opening this gate leaves too much room for Michael to catch you, and he’s honestly your biggest worry right now. But that leaves your only option being crossing the courtyard, and for some reason, your skin prickles at the thought. Well, you’ve been alright up to now. Hope your luck doesn’t run out.

Crossing the broken cobbled path feels sort of methodical. You feel a little detached from reality, you're tired. You can’t remember the last time you weren’t tired. You pass by some large hedge walls, you don’t really understand the appeal but it does make for good cover in trial. 

Apparently too good.

You pass by them with not much thought. And react too late when you hear the stomp of footsteps behind you.

“Shit!” You gasp as a greater force collides with you.

The weight of another body throwing itself onto you quickly knocks you off balance, your face hits stone and you swear you hear a crack. You don’t even have to lift a hand to know that your nose has started to leak blood. The warm viscous liquid trails over your lip and down your chin, you taste metal on your tongue. Pulses of pain whip through your head in waves.

Despite the dazedness, you’re able to use an arm to push yourself up. The person quickly retaliates by trying to grab your shoulder to push you down but you acted quicker and threw your head backwards. You heard the impact of your head hitting theirs before you felt the pain in your head intensify. The person, male you presume, groans as the back of your skull collides with their forehead. 

You use this moment to drag yourself to your feet, the world spinning around you as black splotches paint your vision. You don’t care to look back, that’d be stupid. You know it’s a survivor because if it had been Michael you wouldn’t have gotten out of his grasp, so it must’ve been Ash who tackled you. 

You’re only about halfway through the courtyard so you have to run. Except you are horribly dizzy, your legs buck once under your own weight but you will them to continue holding you up. Somewhere in all this the toolbox you grabbed dropped, but you could honestly care less.

A hand wraps around your ankle.

Going down. 

This time you’re able to catch yourself instead of eating rocks. The hand is bruisingly tight, cold metal digging into your flesh. He drags you back towards him and you feel the stone under you scrape and cut into your knees. In a fit of pure rage, sorrow, and pain, you do something you usually never do. You scream. 

Scream and twist your body and just as you position yourself off your stomach a robotic hand flies out and presses itself to your mouth, muffling your shouts.

Ash is on his knees between your legs, upper body leaning over you. He’s got a large red mark just above his left eyebrow, probably caused by you if you had to guess. 

“Jesus Christ.” He growls, sounding exasperated with the events he caused. His brows are knitted into a dark glare, mouth pulled down into an unhappy scowl. The next words that leave his mouth aren’t directed towards you, but to someone behind you.

“Thanks for the help.” He says sarcastically. Turning your head is difficult given your current position but you manage a fraction of movement that helps you see Haddie leaning against the hedge you passed earlier, you can only assume they were both waiting there before you showed up.

“I told you I wasn’t going to get my hands dirty with this shit.” She argues,

“Holding them down isn’t the same as killing them, bitch” he huffs.

“Don’t call me a bitch, Ashley.” She counters.

“Don’t call me Ashley! And you WERE being a bitch!” His voice borders on yelling, Haddie steps away from the hedge.

“Okay well, this bitch is gonna leave your ass to do this by himself.” That gets a groan from Ash.

“Wait, wait. Fine I’m sorry. Don’t leave.” He relents. Haddie says nothing but she doesn’t make any moves to continue leaving, and that pulls his attention back to you. 

Honestly you’d try your luck biting his hand if it wasn’t for the fact it was his fake one wrapped around your mouth, and quite frankly you don't want to break a tooth. Your head also really hurts. Which is probably why you haven't been trying harder to get him off you.

He meets your gaze for only a second before down casting his eyes. Almost looking a little guilty.

…

He's going to kill you and he doesn't even have the balls to look you in the eye?

“Get me a brand new part from that toolbox.” His voice is quieter now, but not hushed. Never soft either. He's talking about the toolbox you dropped earlier, which you now realize is on its side where you originally fell.

Haddie hesitates for a moment before obeying, handing the large cog to Ash curiously. She noticeably ignores your presence like that wouldn’t make her as guilty as everyone else. He leaves the cog to the side for now.

“What… are you going to do with that?” Haddie asks as she returns to her spot a safe distance away from you. Honestly, you were also wondering what his plan was. Although you probably shouldn’t be. His hand leaves your mouth but you don’t get a chance to say anything before his hand slides down to your neck and squeezes. A choked noise leaves your throat immediately, what was supposed to be a ‘Fuck you’ sounded more like a retch than anything else.

Somehow the choking wasn’t even the worst part. Both your hands come up to his wrist, desperate to pull him off you. Meanwhile Ash’s free hand moves from the side of your ribs lower, he stops just above your hip. His fingers curl under the fabric of your shirt, his skin is uncomfortably cold on your sweaty skin. Tears pool in your eyes and if you could breathe right now you would have lost your breath anyway.

Your head spins with dizziness again but you don’t think it’s from the pain this time, a wave of nausea hits you like a bus. You want to throw up. Why is he touching you? Why like this? Get him off.

Please.

Get him off.

He lifts your shirt up, thankfully no higher than your stomach. He picks up the cog he put off to the side and presses the edge of the cog to the vulnerable flesh of your stomach. And,

You get it now.

The teeth of the cog are pointy like a saw blade. He applies more pressure and a scream catches in your throat as skin gives way under metal, you lift your foot and try to aim for his midsection but the wooziness doesn’t help. You still manage to skim his side and that throws him off enough that you can just barely breathe again. But that doesn’t matter, he just digs the cog into your stomach harder to compensate. You feel blood welling up in the punctures around the cogs teeth. 

Your tears finally fall in long wet streaks down your cheeks and nose, salty water mixing with slightly dried blood. Your shoulders shake with silent sobs you aren’t allowed to let out, you look terrible. White hot pain shoots through your body as he twists the cog, tearing skin and mincing the flesh it attacks. You try to scream as best as you can manage but you just feel like you’re choking on your own tongue.

“God… I can’t fucking watch” Haddie says, her tone drowning in disgust and pity.

Pussy

You’re pretty sure she turns away from the violent display but your vision dances on darkness as the world beneath you shakes and tiny glowing cracks split across the floor, an effect of the end game timer. It means every survivor only has twenty more minutes to escape.

You're actually pretty sad.

You really didn't want to die.

You've stopped looking at Ash, he isn't going to look at you. You try to simply breathe, which isn't easy given your situation but it's better than watching yourself be slowly disemboweled. God, it's so fucking slow. Why couldn't he have found a quicker way to kill you, this is just torture at this point. 

You feel sluggish but that doesn't stop you from at least attempting to keep struggling. You've raked your nails down his arm so many times you're convinced you have his skin caved under your nails. Your heartbeat thunders in your chest, and it almost seems to get louder. It always surprises you how quickly you can die. It's only been a little over five minutes and you can feel yourself slipping into acceptance. 

You lost.

You're going to die again.

The pressure around your throat suddenly disappears, along with the cog digging into your stomach. You hear a choked gasp but it didn’t come from you, it came from above you. You immediately prop yourself up with your hands, scooting backwards until you have the courage to look up and see what’s happening. You don’t even have to look up to understand what happened.

You recognize those black boots. 

When you do look up it’s honestly surreal the sight you’re met with. Michael has Ash lifted off the floor and is somehow STILL able to look down at him. You can hear his deep raspy breathing from here, interrupted by Ash’s sputtering. His hand around Ash’s throat looks crushing. Michael’s eerie white mask tilts ever so slightly to the side, and you notice the large blade he always has ready has the tip embedded in Ash’s spleen. 

 Ash is screaming in pain as he kicks at Michael’s mid section to no avail. The sight is horrifying and you can’t believe you feel more afraid than when you were literally in the process of being murdered just a second ago. 

“Holy shit!” You hear Haddie exclaim behind you, she must’ve turned around when she heard all the commotion. Probably not expecting to see this imposing shape of a man holding her partner in crime a foot off the floor.

Probably wishing she left earlier.

You somehow manage to pull yourself to your feet, swaying only slightly before your head mercifully stops pounding. Michael has dug a little over half his blade into Ash’s spasming body, his muffled shouts turn into wet retching as he coughs out blood onto the stone ground. His fists are pounding lightly against Michael’s forearm, the strength quickly draining from his body. 

Just as Michael pulls the blade out to the tip just to thrust it back into his flesh again, blade sheathing itself into him fully. His body seizing. You turn on your heel and book it. Because holy fuck, you are not sticking around to end up like that. Your run is more of a fast walk, every pull of muscle as your legs move send pain through you, your stomach is bleeding. But not nearly as bad as Ash was before you left.

Did you run the wrong way? Yes. But it was definitely better than trying to run past Michael, through the rest of the courtyard, and out the exit gate. At this point you’ll be happy if it’s just the Entity killing you. You’re still downstairs, leaning against a locker to catch your breath. The ground underneath you rumbles, orange glowing cracks growing large by the minute. Speaking of minutes, you only have about ten minutes to escape if you even still want to. Ash is of course dead. You aren’t sure if Haddie ended up running but if she did then Michael caught up to her. She’s dead too. Nea left the trial some time ago, probably the best idea seeing as two people got moried in the span of a few minutes.

It’s just you left. 

The hatch opened but you’re assuming it’s on the other side of the school because you don’t hear it. You drag a hand down your face, heaving a tired sigh. That was so stressful, you just want to curl into a ball and disappear. Except you can’t. You’re here and unless Michael finds you first you’ll be dead in ten minutes. 

Speak of the devil and he will come.

You swear you jinx yourself every trial. The second you start thinking you might be fine to wait out the endgame timer, guess who appears to make you want to start crying all over again? The cold statue of a man who could probably twist a limb off you if he really wanted. 

And honestly?

You don’t even want to try to live. It’s not worth it to fight any harder just to live an extra ten minutes. Plus, you’re in a hell of a lot of pain. The cog tore away parts of the flesh of your stomach. The lower half of your shirt is soaked in blood, making it cling uncomfortably to your skin. You just wanted to regenerate and take a nap.

When Michael enters the hallway his head is already facing your direction, like he already knew exactly where you were. It wasn’t like you were quiet, your breathing was winded and loud. As he drew near you didn’t run, you had already decided you wouldn’t. You held his gaze from behind the mask. At least he could hold your stare as he killed you, honestly he probably preferred it. 

He stopped very much inside your personal space bubble. You crane your neck up to keep his mask in your sight. Just because you’re giving up doesn’t mean you have to be pathetic about it. You’re long past being afraid of looking death in the eye. Despite trying to keep a calm facade, your hands tremble when Michael’s head slowly tilts to the side in the same unnerving manner as last time. 

His jumpsuit is stained with a fresh new coat of blood. It’s worse when you know who’s blood it is, though you do feel a little desensitized to it at this point. His chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, honestly if it’s that hard to breathe through his mask you don’t know why he doesn’t just take it off. Actually, maybe not a good idea. You’re kind of scared of what he’d look like. 

His fingers are wrapped tightly around his knife, he clutches it like it’s an actual part of his body. It’ll probably be part of yours in a second here.

The ground shakes, a guttural growl echoing through the trial. The Entity hates waiting this long. Michael’s hand, the one not clutching his blade, raises. He makes a slow movement feel like you’re blinking for the last time. You’re surprised when his hand doesn’t close around your throat like it did Ash’s, but around your bicep. And goodness fucking gracious, why can he fit a single hand fully around your bicep. Either he really is just fucking huge, or you really need to workout more.

You don’t even realize he’s starting to walk until you’re being pulled off balance, you quickly recover as he turns his body away from you and to where he’s heading. His grip on your arm isn’t light but at least it isn’t painful, it feels like one of those blood pressure devices used in checkups. Too bad you don’t stay painless for long.

It’s insane how fast he moves without even running. Just long, evenly paced strides that covers a crazy amount of ground. And you can’t even hear his footsteps!

You think he’s heading in the direction of the courtyard but you don’t get very long to think clearly.

In order to keep up with him you have to almost jog to end up not being dragged. And that pulls the torn up muscles on your stomach, sending a sharp burn through your body. It’s so bad you almost think Michael turned around and finally stabbed you. But he hasn’t, he hasn’t even stopped. 

You’re infront of the courtyard now, why couldn’t you have just dealt with it?

Until you use all your force to jerk your arm out of his hand, and then he freezes. You double over, clutching your wound with a stifled cry. Your hands come back bloody and you bite down another whimper. Maybe you should just ask him to kill you right here, because this really sucks. 

When you look back up, Michael is turned back towards you. This time the soulless eyes of his mask are focused on your stomach and not your face. His posture almost seems to stiffen, his shoulders pulling up taut. He takes only a single step forward, but it’s easily enough to have you in grabbing distance. You fight the urge to back up in response but end up doing it anyway when he lifts a hand towards the hem of your shirt, you keep a hand in front of your stomach almost protectively. You really don’t want a repeat of the feeling you got when Ash lifted your shirt.

It’s a momentary relief when Michael’s hand lowers at the reaction. But as another rumble echoes through the trial grounds he closes the distance you just made. He crouches ever so slightly to wrap an arm just under your hips and you let out a very unhappy gasp as you're lifted. 

You aren’t hoisted over his shoulder like when you’re being hooked, instead he has you held against his side. He supports you with a single arm under your legs, his hand just barely gripping your thigh. You brace your hands against his chest to not be literally flushed against him. His chest is sturdy under your palms and the way it flexes when he breathes in is almost mesmerizing. A part of you doesn’t even want to complain about this position, but…

You did not agree to this, he needs to put you the fuck down.

“Oh! Uh okay… no thanks, you can put me down!” You try to put some power behind your words but it’s pretty lackluster. He’s already started moving. You try one more attempt at nicely saying you don’t need to be carried but he doesn’t even give you an indication that he’s listening. Your face feels warmer then usual but you are just going to blame it on the head trauma, because that’s easy.

Sure, you could try to struggle out of his grip if you really wanted him to drop you, but, that really doesn’t seem like a good idea. If he drops you, you doubt you’ll get the chance to get back up. 

You allow yourself to relax a little bit as he’s crossing through the courtyard, your hand roams over his chest and up to his shoulder. He doesn’t react. Your hand inches a little closer to his neck. He doesn’t react. When your fingers graze the edge of his mask where skin shows above the collar of his jumpsuit, one of his steps fall a little shorter than the others.

His hand tightens around your thigh for only a second before loosening like it never happened. He angles his neck a little away from your touch, you don't chase it. He respected your retreat, it's only fair you respect him. Instead your hand goes back to resting on his chest.

Before you know it you're in front of the open exit gate, and with three minutes to spare. It really is impressive how quickly he can traverse the map. He doesn't set you down, he just kinda drops you. You were, thankfully already expecting to have to catch yourself so you caught his wrist on the way down to help steady yourself.

He didn't stop you, so you're just going to assume he didn't mind. You only need to step a foot back and you'll be behind the foggy barrier and sent back to your fire. Small tendrils from the Entity have started to poke through the ground, the ones around you tapping the base of your shoe. Ready to pounce out and morph into giant claws to impale you. But, you beat the timer. 

It was probably the craziest thirty minutes of your life, but hey, at least you survived.

You thank Michael for his help, even though it was a little unorthodox, before stepping back into the fog. Everything around is immediately silent, and you can feel yourself being dragged under.