Chapter Text
There are many upsides to streaming virtual reality games.
Bluudud couldn't imagine just how lifelike the virtual world could look and feel. How a gunshot would register as a light punch to the chest, how slamming your face into a wall wouldn't hurt like it definitely should, the sensation of something warm against his skin as blood spurted out of the other players... it was exhilarating. Especially when the bloodbath is combined with the survivors screaming bloody murder into their microphones with enough emotion to rival award-winning voice actors.
"Wait, wait! I'm sorry! Please-!"
In a graceful swing, the tearful cries of Elliot would be cut short as the head of the comically large lollipop was mercilessly bashed against the minimum wage worker's skull. Bluudud couldn't imagine someone so obsessed with their job, enough to even make their in-game avatar wear their Builder Brother's Pizza uniform in a world where you could be anyone. Then again, this man was the son of Mr. Builder, and from what he knew, he wanted to work at his father's business. Dedicated too, if the unchanging Employee-Of-The-Month picture frame was to say anything. He probably should've expected it.
Now, how many kills has he racked up? Six? Seven? He hasn't won yet - he'd already be teleported to his team's lobby by now if Elliot really was the last survivor. Hovering over the ragdoll of his latest victim, Bluudud mumbles under his breath as he tries to recount everyone he's seen.
Builderman, impaled on a piece of the remains of his own sentry somewhere. Shedletsky, blocked his sword with his lollipop before giving him a demonstration of why it's called a double-edged sword. Chance - his blood wasn't even on his hands, the idiot shot themself. Noob, drank a slateskin potion only for the two of them to stand there like doofuses waiting for the potion's effects to wear off. Two Time, sprinted away the second they respawned, only to run into the loving arms of Bluudud 4. 007n7, the unlucky guy had been trapped in a room while doing a generator. Guest 1337, he'd been pushed out of the way right as he'd thrown a corrupt na-
Oh, right. He'd completely ignored him in favour of chasing down the healer. He should really get going before time's up.
"See if anyone wants to donate!"
Up from the ground rose Bluudud 4 and 9, and as they took their first steps, he sprinted in the direction they were facing. Of course, the two didn't know the concepts of donations and livestreams - they're simply NPCs that hunt down the nearest target. Though, with the game only allowing his team to go one at a team, and having to watch the survivors get to interact outside of intermissions, it's only fair that he has someone to treat as a teammate regardless of their lack of sentience. The one-sided conversations were a good filler, too. The viewers would get bored if he didn't find a survivor fast enough.
Speaking of survivors, he heard shuffling from behind a wall.
"Wait for me!"
If there's another benefit to streaming virtual reality, he gets to be in game with Guest 1337.
To be honest, he wasn't sure why Guest of all people was playing this game. For a long time, too; he's in the army, yet he doesn't think the man's actually ever logged off. Which probably meant he didn't have the best work ethic, but hell like Bluudud cares - means he gets to spend more time bonding with the veteran.
Guest barely blocks his attack as the duel goes down. He's not like the others; doesn't run away, beg for mercy, or use a weapon that c00lkidd complains is cheating as if majority of his team couldn't take on all the survivors at once without breaking a sweat. Just his raw strength and combat skills.
Well, maybe not raw strength. The game obviously had to level the playing field for players of varying physical strength, after all.
A sickening crack is accompanied by a pained grunt as he grabs Guest's arm and forcefully twists it into a position that shouldn't be anatomically possible. Then, bluudud pulls him close, causing his victim to stumble towards him. He wastes no time to wring his free hand around his neck; his avatar's model with its exaggerated proportions easily closing a hand around the other's neck. It'd be so easy to end the round right here and now, with a quick snap of the neck in perfect time to the tick of the clock.
Instead, he only tightens his grip. Not to strangle, but to watch as the soldier now desperately tries to break free. The expression on the other's face is exhilarating, giving him the fleeting thought of what it'd be like if the soldier had instead gotten into the art of filmmaking. He's patting against the arm that restrained his neck with all his strength, and there's an unmistakeable glint from the limited light hitting his finger a certain way that makes bluudud tilt his head.
Guest momentarily stops struggling, no doubt examining the expression on his face. He doesn't give that attention, though - he's focused more on what was on his hand. His finger. His ring finger. It's a golden ring.
There's a beat or two of silence before bluudud slams the man against the concrete.
If anyone were to ask 1x1x1x1 how she'd gotten themself into the situation it was in right now, she'd say that even they themself didn't have a clue.
It already knew she was in for the long haul by the fifth time c00lkidd had run up to them to ask to do something utterly ridiculous. No, c00lkidd, I am not teaching you how to cook. No, c00lkidd, there's not even a kitchen in this building. Yes, c00lkidd, today I want to look like this. No, c00lkidd, you can't touch my hair. No, c00lkidd, it's not a wig. Yes, c00lkidd, I can change my appearance very quickly. No, c00lkidd, you certainly can't cut it. Yes, I can make it grow back instantly. No, you still can't cut it. No. No. Maybe. Yes.
He's a persistent child, isn't he?
The kid blurts out a "Be right back!", and she'd almost completely relaxed once he'd run off. Of course, that meant he'd come right back to assault them with another round of questions that would make her want to tear its hair out of her head, but they'd already learnt to appreciate every second of peace it could get. It's the closest thing to feeling at peace - or as close to peace a manifestation of pure negative feelings could get.
Then, she's looking up at the barely maintained hockey mask of her colleague, Jason. The damned kid had brought him over, and for what? He's rambling on about hair and dolls and how he saw someone at some restaurant with knotted hair, and he wanted to knot hers. Didn't he hear them earlier? She's said no about a dozen different times, he really didn't know how to quit.
This time, it didn't even reply. She stands to retreat to a dark corner of the room, maybe in hope that he finally gets the damn hint to not disturb them. They're stopped on their tracks, however, when a gloved hand firmly grasps its wrist, and the vacant stare of the masked slasher makes her change her mind.
So, here she was. With its hair being pulled at and prodded around with, a feeling that made it want to lunge at the two killers right in front of her, multiplied tenfold by the unmistakable laughter of the mafia playing board games just the floor below. To her relief, c00lkidd didn't actually want to tie its hair into knots that'd be impossible to untangle - he just didn't know the word for braiding. She didn't even know what the hell he was talking about until the kid was interrupted mid-rant by Jason gently grabbing at her hair.
Apparently, Jason can braid hair. She's not sure how to process this information, especially when she's pretty sure the man's only contact with people was drowning in a lake then going on a murder spree for the past how-many decades. Perhaps his mother had taught him to do that? What'd he even use that knowledge for?
If anything, he's a good teacher. He's not spoken a word (if he even could pronounce a full word), and the red-flesh had already gotten the hang of it. The tugging and pulling had decreased, and now the two were focusing on braiding either side of 1x's hair.
Jason and c00lkidd had only gotten about halfway down its hair's length when the door slams open.
Followed by a deafening scream.
It jolts back in its seat, before immediately regretting it as she'd pulled on the strands of hair still being held by the duo in front of them. They both loosen their grip, but she knows it's more out of shock rather than caring for her well-being. The chatter and laughter from below had ceased as well, Mafioso and his goons were no doubt looking directly at the front door.
When they glance at said door, the sight makes it squint her eyes.
Crumping to his knees at the front door was bluudud, banging his fist dramatically on the floorboards with a force that should've made a dent in the wood. He's screaming almost incomprehensibly, though she could make out the words "Guest" and "betray" from his muffled sobs. She turns to Jason, who'd also had the idea to share a glance with her. Even with the mask on, it doesn't take an expert to read his utter confusion.
C00lkidd's already by his side, trying to comfort him in that small scared voice when he's not entirely too sure what to do. It's obviously not helping much when bluudud just wails louder into the ground. When they turn back to Jason, he's already looking at her. He tilts his head towards the children. We should check on him, she thinks he's saying. So, with half-braided hair and a headache from either the pulling or the mayhem, it gets up from their seat and go down the stairs.
Maybe that was a bad idea, because upon getting closer, she could hear exactly what was making him so upset.
"Why...?" bluudud pauses as he sniffles, "I thought we-we had something special! All the times I spared him for last, and he...?"
Oh god, this better not be about who she thinks it's about. She takes another glance at Jason, who's tilted his head to the side. Then, they suddenly really hopes Jason doesn't know what he's talking about.
"It's okay, it's okay, we still see him every round-"
They take an involuntary step back as bluudud shoves c00lkidd off of him.
"THERE'S NO WAY I CAN CALM DOWN!"
A beat.
"I CAN'T CALM DOWN BECAUSE HE'S MARRIED!"
Oh god, it is exactly about who she thought it was. It could see Jason still from their peripheral vision.
Bluudud buries his face against the floorboards again, and continues screaming into the floor.
"Bluudud," she's responded to with him thrashing against the floor, "he's, like, almost forty." A beat. Jason tilts his head while facing her. "He's thrice your age."
There's not a response, unless muffled sobbing could be counted as one. Then, sharp laughter from c00lkidd. Jason's slowly turning his head towards them, so slowly that it only sends the kid into more laughter; hence, more crying from the other. Murmurs from the group at the dining table pick back up, but the mood's certainly been dampened by the mental breakdown everyone had just witnessed.
1x1 decides they've listened to enough talking and screaming and laughing for the day, and retreats to the corner she was originally going to sulk in, leaving Jason to handle this clusterfuck.