Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A new round had started, everyone doing their own tasks in order to get through the round.

One of them was Elliot, peacefully but nervously fixing and fiddling with a generator. His shaky hands carefully aligning the wires by color, pink to pink, red to red, blue to blue, and the likes.

The gentle atmosphere and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops around him took his mind off his previous nervousness, that had him thinking that the round was extremely peaceful—way too peaceful.

He dismissed it as he was in the far corner of the map, distant screams could barely reach his ears. But the lingering thought of something he wouldn't like going to happen stayed, nothing nice lasts forever or even a long time in this god forsaken realm.

Uneasiness took over him, something was going to happen, he didn't know what or when but he was sure of it—a gut feeling he couldn't deny.

He pondered until it finally clicked, a twig snapping behind him.

Wasting no time he stood up and glanced around his surroundings in an attempt to pinpoint where the sound came from so he could flee.

Elliot was deep in thought until a familiar figure appeared from the shadows, startling him slightly but noticing it was a fellow survivor, he took a deep breath and calmed himself

A voice spoke up, one he knew all too well—one he hated.

"Elliot... Can I talk to you?" 007n7 asked, he had thought about this for a while—a long while—before taking any actual action.

"What, need heal?" Elliot spat, he knew why the survivors came to him, to ask for a pizza in order to heal, not to mention they didn't even thank him, not once—it almost felt like it was all he was ever good for. The thought agitated him, and for the one asking to be a person he hated riled him up even more.

"Here, get out of my face." He said, visibly irritated. He rose his hand and 007n7 flinched, thinking Elliot was going to hit him. To no surpise—since Elliot wasn't hostile, he only shoved a slice of pizza in 007n7's face, for him to take it.

007n7 wrapped his fingers around Elliot's wrist, putting his hand holding the pizza down. "I don't-.. I don't need a heal it's just... something I've been meaning to tell you ever since I changed." 007n7 started, his tone uncharacteristically low and gentle. "I apologize for all the things I've done to you in the past...-" Not even letting him finish his apology Elliot snapped, interrupting him completely.

Elliot lunged at 007n7, pushing him harshly down to the ground, 007n7 winced at the cold soil hitting his back, he thanked his positioning—having landed on dirt and grass instead of the hard concrete that sat right beside his head, staring at Elliot in shock.

Elliot had tried so hard, SO hard to hold back his anger from spilling but he just couldn't, the hatred he felt for him all bottled up as he acted as if nothing had happened between them.

This was his breaking point, he was tired from all of his bullshitting. Combined with the awful repetitive game they were trapped in forever, he really had enough.

Before 007n7 could process what just happened Elliot pulled out a pizza cutter and attempted to hurt him, but the distant sound of a plea for help snapped Elliot out of it.

Realizing what he was about to do, he pushed himself off 007n7. His pupils shrunk, staring at the pizza cutter in shock, glancing at 007n7 and back to his pizza cutter. Did he really almost hurt a survivor?..

Elliot stepped back, away from 007n7 and stopping to a halt. He shivered as the cool air brushed against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat he felt in his moment of madness.

007n7 took a sharp breath, gears turning in his head wondering what just happened and what caused him to lash out like that.

Relieved and thankful, 007n7 hoisted himself up from the ground and took a deep breath. He would've been badly hurt and bloody had they not heard the distressed scream.

A dizzy feeling struck the two, the round was ending. Lost in the moment they had forgotten about the current round. Before they knew it, they teleported back to the main cabin. Some lost their footing as they still haven't gotten used to the teleporting stuff.

Elliot looked around, his eyes immediately falling on the couch. Though unstable, he pushed himself to walk to it, reaching the couch he collapsed, an immediate feeling of tiredness filling him.

Without thinking another thought he fell asleep, grateful he could catch some rest after the stress from the round they just finished.

The survivors who stood and looked at Elliot in confusion, they haven't seen him nor the killer that led them to figure that Elliot must've been chased around by the killer for minutes—almost the entirety of the round.

Concerned faces spread across the room, until they realized...

Taph wasn't here.

Chapter Text

A jarring stillness hung in the cabin.

Rain tapped gently against the cracked windows, the kind of rain that made you forget time existed. The round was over. The survivors were back. And for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t victory they felt… it was dread.

One by one, the survivors stumbled into the cabin, each looking worn, battered, and sore in their own way. The flickering ceiling lights above buzzed faintly as if straining to stay alive—just like them.

007n7 entered first. His boots left sharp, watery imprints on the wooden floor. His breathing was erratic. His hands shook.

He didn’t say anything—not right away.

Guest 1337 followed shortly behind, wiping blood from his arm, muttering something under his breath. Chance and Two Time were already inside, arguing softly near the map board. Noob peeked through a cracked window. Shedletsky and Builderman walked in last, quietly.

Then Elliot appeared.

He didn’t say a word.

He barely looked human.

His steps were slow, mechanical, like he was sleepwalking. In his hand—his dominant hand—was a dull, bloodstained pizza cutter. He hadn’t even realized he was still holding it.

He reached the couch. Dropped the cutter. Laid down. Exhaled.

And fell asleep.

Everyone just… watched.

For a moment, all you could hear was the soft hum of the generator downstairs and the distant thunder rolling over the mountains.

Then—

“He tried to kill me.”

The words cracked through the air like lightning.

All heads turned toward 007n7.

His voice was shaky, but steady enough to make everyone freeze.

“Wait. Who?” asked Guest 1337, straightening up.

“Elliot.”

“No way,” said Chance immediately, his tone almost too fast. “Not him. Elliot wouldn’t—”

“He did,” 007n7 snapped. “He pinned me down during the round. He had the cutter in his hand. And he—he almost used it.”

Builderman narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“I tried to talk to him. That’s it. I—I wanted to apologize for everything. For all the times I messed with him, treated him like garbage. For ignoring him like he was just… the pizza guy. And he lost it.”

There was a pause. Long. Uncomfortable.

Two Time glanced at Elliot’s unconscious form on the couch. “And you’re sure it wasn’t just the stress of the round? People lose it all the time.”

007n7 slowly shook his head. “No. This was different. This wasn’t panic. It was rage. It was personal. He didn’t see a teammate—he saw someone he wanted gone.”

“I’ve never seen him look like that before,” he added softly. “It was like something cracked open in him.”

The room was silent.

Shedletsky finally spoke, arms crossed. “...Did he stop?”

“Yes. But not because of me.” 007n7 looked down. “Someone screamed far away. It shook him out of it. He looked at the cutter like it was… foreign. Like he wasn’t even holding it.”

Guest 1337 sighed. “So he didn’t follow through.”

“No,” 007n7 admitted. “But he almost did. That has to mean something.”

Chance looked torn. “I mean… haven’t we all snapped at some point? He’s been through the same hell we have.”

“But Elliot never snapped,” Builderman added. “He was always the one holding us together. Quiet, maybe, but stable.”

“Not anymore,” muttered Two Time.

Noob, who had been quietly looking around the room, suddenly asked:

“Where’s Taph?”

That single question made everyone pause.

They looked around instinctively. There was no sign of him. His usual spot by the window was empty. His little satchel of scraps and paper wasn’t on the shelf. His quiet presence was… gone.

“I didn’t see him in the round,” Guest 1337 said slowly.

“Me neither,” said Builderman.

“Maybe he glitched out?” Chance offered, though he didn’t sound hopeful.

But that wasn’t how this world worked. Survivors didn’t just disappear. You either lived through the round or you didn’t. There was no middle ground.

Two Time frowned. “He was here last round, wasn’t he?”

Shedletsky stepped forward. “Yeah. He helped me patch a barricade. We didn’t talk much, just his usual emojis. But he was there.”

Now… nothing.

“No sign of him at the map board,” Builderman added, checking the corner. “No respawn marker. No death log. Just… gone.”

“Vanished,” Guest 1337 murmured.

It was terrifying, in its own quiet way.

“Could the killers have gotten to him between rounds?” Two Time asked.

“That’s not supposed to be possible,” said Chance.

“Neither is a survivor attacking another survivor with a pizza cutter,” Shedletsky pointed out.

The words hung heavy in the air.

007n7 sank into one of the armchairs, rubbing his temples. “Something’s wrong. With Elliot. With the game. With… all of this. I don’t think we’re in just another loop anymore.”

“Maybe…” Two Time leaned on the wall again. “Maybe this loop’s about to break.”

And for the first time in a while, no one argued with him.

The storm outside picked up.

The shadows stretched a little longer.

And on the couch near the table, Elliot stirred—his fingers twitching as if grasping at something invisible in his sleep.

Chapter Text

As the storm grew louder, the disquiet shifted to something more disturbing—almost sinister. The heavy breaths of each survivor mirrored their exhaustion, they just wanted to get out of this hell, and they just had to.

None of them but 007n7 knew the insanity that brew inside Elliot. But even if he did tell them about Elliot's case of possible growing insanity, no one would believe him—not a single soul.

Shedletsky sighed. "How would that even work? We're trapped in here, hopeless." He said as he flopped down on the couch where Elliot rested, unaware of the madness running in his head. A sweat formed on Elliot's forehead, his eyebrows furrowing as his fingers twitched more frequently—he was stirring awake.

Elliot jolted awake, escaping his state of restless sleep. Sitting up sweating, Elliot glanced around the room with a hint of panic—or perhaps relief. He looked as if he witnessed a murder with his bare eyes, but as he saw that he was in their cabin, he calmed down a bit.

"Yo you good bro?" A man—Shedletsky—sitting beside him asked, concerned. He, slowly starting to notice his oddly weird behavior—his paranoia.

Elliot rubbed his eyes that strained slightly from the blinding lights, gathering his thoughts and regaining his composure.

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry 'bout it..." His voice carried an unusual gruff, betraying the façade of reassurance he tried to put up.

Shedletsky's expression didn't waver and remained skeptical. Something was off with Elliot, he just couldn't exactly pinpoint what.
"You sure? You've been acting weird lately man." Concern was all you could find in his voice.

Elliot waved a dismissive hand, attempting to lower Shedletsky's concern. "I'm just tired. Just the weird dreams I've been having lately." He said leaning back, avoiding direct eye contact as he tried to play it off and act normal.

Shedletsky's worry didn't seem to falter, noticing the way Elliot tensed, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

"You know you can talk to us if something's bugging you or anything, right?" His voice was sincere, genuinely worried for his friend's well-being.

Elliot nodded, forcing a small smile on his face in an attempt to reduce Shedletsky's worry. "Yeah, I know." He leaned forward, slouching as he lay his head on his fist. "I just need time to clear my head, that's all."

Elliot looked up at Shedletsky, before continuing. "And, don't worry too much if I don't open up. I really need space at times."

Shedletsky knew Elliot was holding something back, he knew there was more to this than just nightmares. 007n7 had already mentioned that something wrong was going on with Elliot, how he said that he almost killed him. Shedletsky didn't fully believe him, but thought the possibility of Elliot hurting a survivor was low—but never zero.

Shedletsky sighed, sinking into the couch where he sat, beside Elliot. He wanted to ask more questions but didn't want to push him any further.

"If you say so, dude. But listen, just know whenever you're feeling down in the dumps, we got your back. Got it?" He reassured.

"Mhm, appreciate it." Elliot's tense expression softened, a mix of relief and fatigue washing over him. He knew he'd stay true to his words, yet he still feared that once he admits he actually attempted murdering 007n7, he wouldn't be seen as the caring Elliot they knew.

Shedletsky patted his back gently, offering support. "Take it easy man, we're always here if you need us."

Elliot presented a—fake—gentle smile to his friend. But this time, his façade was stronger since he was now less panic and more calm. He excused himself as he stood up, waving goodbye before taking his steps upstairs.

Elliot sat on a stool, gazing upon the survivors on the lower floor. He blinked, slowly, tiredly, as if he was about to sleep. But naturally, that wouldn't happen. The stress that weighed on his shoulders left him without sleep, unable to catch rest despite being so tired and exhausted.

As the silence in the cabin lingered, the survivors sat in groups while others were alone. Occasional coughs or shifting broke the quietness and tension that had settled like an unwelcome guest.

It was a stark difference from their lively conversations, their usual banter of playful insults and lighthearted jabs were long forgotten now that they've been stuck in this hellhole for god knows how long.

Builderman was sat on a nearby armchair, his usually calm demeanor was now replaced with unease. His eyes darted from one survivor to another, taking in their worn expressions and tired forms—they all looked so exhausted and ready to give up.

"This is getting ridiculous." He muttered to himself, his voice tinged with frustration and impatience.

Noob, who was sitting beside Builderman, nodded in agreement. They tiredly looked up at Builderman, their once bright eyes now dulled with exhaustion. The optimism they usually displayed was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a sense of hopelessness.

"It just feels like we're going in circles. It's tiring—having to be chased by killers as we run for our lives..." He said, low and quiet.
Builderman sighed heavily, leaning back against the armchair he sat on. "I know, I know. But what can we do, huh? We're stuck in this hell with no way out."

Elliot, on the higher floor sat silently as the conversation of the survivors drifted towards him. He felt slightly bothered, trying to compose himself and to steady his thoughts. But it was difficult—especially when it came to 007n7.

Listening to the others discuss their situation, he couldn't help but feel an uneasy sensation at the pit of his stomach. The words "stuck in a loop" hit a little too close to home—having used to be a pizza worker who worked restless and repetitive days making pizza before he got forsakened.

The thought of him doing the same thing in this realm continuously nagged at him.

Elliot leaned against the railing, his fingers gripped tightly on the hard wood as he recalled the memory of the previous round. It played back in his mind, how he had lost control and almost killed 007n7.

He shut his eyes as the others continued their conversation, the sound of their voices blending into a background lull.

Elliot's thoughts remained fixated on one person in particular—007n7.

Elliot clenched his teeth, his grip on the metal railing tightening. His mind wandered to the numerous times he'd provided them with pizzas, healing them in the midst of their chaotic battles. They would use his food, his help without even a word of gratitude.

It was aggravating, infuriating even, to be taken for granted like that. And, for some inexplicable reason, it enraged him more when 007n7 was the one who didn't show appreciation yet the one who always called for his help.

As the conversation from the inside of the cabin continued, oblivious to Elliot's growing anger, Elliot clenched his fists and leaned on the railing. The night outside remained eerily still, a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew past, rustling the trees around them and sending a chill down Elliot's spine. He shivered, feeling a sudden sense of unease.

Something wasn't right.

Elliot, still gripping the railing tightly, scanned the area around the cabin. Everything seemed normal at first glance, but the feeling of unease lingered. Then, he noticed something strange—a slight movement in the shadows, just on the edge of the tree line.

Elliot's eyes narrowed, his heart rate quickening. Was it just his imagination? Or was something lurking in the darkness…?

Chapter Text

The cabin creaked in its stillness. Outside, the world was quiet—not peaceful, but unnaturally silent. The kind of silence that made every survivor’s skin crawl.

Elliot sat on the edge of a creaky couch, head in his hands. His breathing was uneven, his fingers twitching like they were trying to hold onto reality.

“You’ve been acting off,” Shedletsky finally muttered. “We all see it. What’s going on?”

Elliot raised his eyes. “I’ve been seeing Taph.”

Guest 1337 turned toward him. “What?”

“I saw him last night… this morning, too. Just glimpses. In the hall. Near the fireplace.” Elliot’s eyes flicked to the corner where Taph usually slept. “But every time I looked again… he was gone.”

There was a pause.

“Wait,” Guest 1337 said slowly. “When’s the last time any of us saw Taph?”

Silence.

“He was there when we locked the doors last night,” Shedletsky recalled. “He gave that little thumbs-up.”

“And now?” Elliot asked quietly.

They all looked around.

No blanket. No backpack. No Taph.

That familiar, quiet presence—the one who only spoke in emojis, who rarely demanded anything—was just… gone.

007n7 stepped into the room, holding something small and damp.

“Found this under the front door,” he said.

He laid it flat on the table.

Scrawled on a torn scrap of notebook paper were three words:

"I heard it."

And beneath them, scribbled hastily in fading pencil:

🆘

The room went cold.

“He didn’t walk away,” 007n7 said.

“He was taken,” Shedletsky finished, his voice hollow.

Elliot’s jaw clenched. “We got it all wrong.”

---

[Meanwhile – Taph’s POV]

Taph ran through a world that no longer made sense.

The trees around him glitched in and out. The ground pulsed beneath his feet, switching textures with every step. Grass. Concrete. Sand. Void. Static.

And behind him…

It followed.

The voice crackled through the digital haze:

“Jason…”
“You’ve run long enough.”

Taph stumbled over a flickering rock. His knees scraped against the corrupted earth, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

His breaths were ragged. His thoughts were splitting.

He pulled out his small chalkboard from his bag, desperately scrawling:

💢❌😱
(Angry. Wrong. Scared.)

He held it up. As if it would stop what was coming.

The glitched figure loomed in the fog. Its body twitched violently—sometimes appearing like a Roblox avatar, sometimes like a twisted mess of code and shadow. Its voice scraped like metal.

“You’re Telamon.”
“You left me in the void.”
“You closed the gate.”

Taph shook his head violently. He wrote again, faster, more desperate:

👤=❌🧍‍♂️
(Not. Me. Not. Him.)

😰📣😶
(Scared. Want to scream. Can’t.)

His breath hitched.

FLASH.
A lab full of sparks. A younger figure pulling him by the arm. “Run, Taph! Now!”
A second later, the figure was gone—sucked into the void.

FLASH.
1x1x1x1 screaming, glitching, falling into an admin core. Taph trying to reach for him—too late.

The memories weren’t his.

They couldn’t be.

He dropped the chalkboard, heart pounding, and grabbed a stick from the dirt. Shakily, he drew in the soil:

🧠❓=🔁🧍‍♂️
(Mind confused… becoming him?)

The wind glitched. The sky rippled.

The figure stepped closer.

“You forgot who you are. But I didn’t.”
“Jason.”

Taph fell backward, hands shaking. Tears pricked at his eyes.

The last thing he remembered before the flashbacks took over was the way the others always accepted him.

Even when he couldn’t speak.

Even when all he had were emojis.

So he clawed into the dirt again. His fingers bloody. Desperate.

🧑‍🤝‍🧑❤️
(I’m someone they care about.)

He repeated it.

Again.
And again.

🧑‍🤝‍🧑❤️
🧑‍🤝‍🧑❤️
🧑‍🤝‍🧑❤️

Until the fog swallowed him whole.

---

[Back in the Cabin]

Shedletsky stood at the door, flashlight in hand.

“We’re going after him.”

“Do we even know where?” Guest 1337 asked.

“No,” 007n7 said. “But we know who took him.”

Elliot looked down at the torn note one last time.

“I hope Taph remembers who he is,” he whispered.

Because if he didn’t…

He’d start believing the lie.

And once he did…

1x1x1x1 would erase him—forever.

Chapter Text

Heyy! it's me, Cade, or xaz.

I'm sorry for not making any new chapters :((
I'm really busy right now, and I haven't been in the best condition. The fic might get discontinued, but if possible, another chapter will be posted. And if I continue the fic, it's going to get slow updates.

Hope you guys understand 💚.