Threading the Realm

by Elifsoftware

Summary:

"No-clipping" refers to when a player moves through solid objects, like walls or floors, usually by using a cheat or glitch, allowing them to bypass normal boundaries and reach areas that are otherwise inaccessible.

 

(or for a more simple context incase some people don't get it, Elliot escapes Forsaken then got brutally tortured maybe physically but totally 100% mentally by author himself)

Notes:

First fic, pls go easy on me T_T

Chapter 1: The Bird Escaped Its Cage

Chapter 1: The Bird Escaped Its Cage

Die

Respawn

Die

Then respawn

Again

No one knew how long Elliot had been trapped in this cursed realm. Round after round, an endless cycle of torment, orchestrated by the cruel deity known only as Spectre. Pain became a routine. Death lost its meaning. He’d respawn, again and again. And with every revival, a piece of his sanity crumbled away.

 

Is this what eternity feels like? Does it even matter if I die anymore? Will I ever be free?

 

“Hello? Earth to Elliot?”

“OH!! g-god! Noob! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Elliot gasped, flinching out of his thoughts.

“Hehe, sorry, my bad.” Noob offered a sheepish grin as they rummaged in their inventory. Pulled out a medkit and handed it to Elliot. “Here, I found this on the way. You should keep this since you can’t heal yourself!...”

Elliot smiled faintly, accepting the gift. Noob’s kindness was rare in this place, maybe the only thing anchoring him to what little hope he had left. Their bond had formed not out of necessity, but from something deeper. A shared resistance to despair

Elliot remembered the early days. When they first crossed paths in Yorick's Resting Place. Back then, Noob had been…well, a noob. Clumsy, always getting in the way, always almost getting both of them killed. But they learned fast. Too fast. And even when things turned for the worse, Noob stayed kind

 

They’d had moments, brief reprieves where the endless fights paused long enough to pretend they were still human. They’d hang out in the main lobby cabin, shared cans of Bloxy cola, laughed over stupid stories of the lives they barely remembered

But before Elliot could reflect more, a distant shout shattered their quiet

“GUYS! GET OUT! NOW!”

Shedletsky, low on health, came barreling toward them, panic etched across his face, with none other than 1x1x1x1, hot on his heels

“Oh lord…I should go now” Noob chugged a Bloxy cola and zipped off, shouting back, “Stay safe, Ell!”

As 1x closed in, Elliot acted on instinct. He flung a pizza toward Shedletsky, intercepting the final blow and saving him. 1x1x1x1 let out a guttural, corrupted growl, clearly not pleased

Now it was Elliot's turn to run

The chase was brutal. Elliot, no fighter by nature, took hit after hit. Each strike from 1x1x1x1 was like being smashed with pure hate. He knew he couldn't keep this up.

 

Where are the others? Why am I always the one who has to buy time?

 

His foot caught on a stone, and he went down hard. Blood and sweat mingled, soaking into the grass. Gasping, he clawed forward, desperate to escape like a fish out of water.

But then something strange.

Near the grass, almost unnoticeable, was a glitch? A flickering patch, tiny and inconsistent. Have being in Planet Voss a thousand times, Elliot knew this spot. It wasn’t supposed to be there. It was an anomaly.

He reached out, curiosity overriding fear, and screams-

A sword burst through his chest, cruel and merciless. “L00k @t y0u, @nn0yi^gly pAth3ti<,” 1x1x1x1 hissed.

The last thing Elliot saw was a glint of hatred before being sliced in half.

He drifted. Weightless. Numb. Thoughts faded into static.

Back to the lobby cabin. Another respawn. Another round.

But... something felt different.

Green grass brushed his skin.

 

Grass? wasn’t he supposed to respawn back to the cabin…

.

.

 .

Wait-

 

Elliot jolted upright, pain exploding from his wounds. But he barely noticed. His eyes widened as he scanned his surroundings. ain't no way

“This…? I’m back?... I’M BACK!!”

Ignoring the pain, Elliot stumbled and jerked up. His knees wobbled, but adrenaline carried him. Trees lined the narrow streets, their branches arching overhead like an old canopy, and in the fall, golden leaves would gather in lazy spirals along the curbs. The houses, mostly brick and wood, stood close together, their porches decorated with flower boxes, chipped paint, and wind chimes that sang softly when the breeze passed through.

 

It was real.

 

The streets. The buildings. Everything. Right there. Standing.

Tears spilled freely as he laughed, cried, and limped toward.

“I’m home... Oh god, I’m really home...”-Elliot gasp, he’d be jumping up and down with it weren’t for the injuries he’s carrying. He was so lost in his own happiness that Elliot didn’t notice there’s a figure approaching him, a familiar figure

A voice behind him, hesitant and familiar: “who’s there?! E-Elliot…?”

He turned slowly.

“Sean?” he whispered.

The man nodded, eyes glassy with disbelief, then rushed forward and enveloped Elliot in a crushing hug.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! YOU’VE BEEN MISSING FOR TWO YEARS!” Sean’s voice cracked as he held Elliot like he might vanish again.

 

Two years here. Thousands in the Forsaken Realm.

 

“I remember you… Sean? Right?” Elliot murmured with a tired, joyous chuckle.

Sean sobbed. “Mia cried every night. Your dad sent investigators everywhere. The pizzeria’s never been the same without you. We thought you were gone forever!”

But Sean’s relief twisted into horror as he noticed something wet against his hand. Warm. Sticky.

“…Elliot?” he asked quietly. “Is that blood on your back?”

“Oh, uh... the slash? Yeah, I got cut up a little.”

Sean went pale. “Cut? YOU’RE BLEEDING OUT!”

“Well… it’s not that bad.”

“You’re LITERALLY DYING, GET IN THE CAR!” Sean practically threw him into the passenger seat and sped toward the hospital.

-

-

Elliot lay on the hospital bed, wrapped in bandages like a patchwork doll. Machines beeped quietly beside him.

“You’re lucky,” the doctor sighed, exasperated. “A few more hours, and it would've been a different story.”

Sean was pacing beside him, fuming. “Lucky?! He got ripped tissues, damaged lungs, massive blood loss, AND broken bones! What the HELL, Elliot!”

Elliot gave him the saddest, sheepish grin. “W-well... I’m not dead, right?”

Sean pinched the bridge of his nose. “One of these days, I swear you’re gonna give me a heart attack…”

Even the doctor nodded solemnly. “This boy’s flirting with death…I ain't get pay enough for this, I'm out”

Sean exhaled hard. “Do you want me to call your father? He’s gonna flip out when he hears your voice.”

“Nah” Elliot grinned, snuggling into the bed. “Let’s make it a surprise. I want to see the look on his face.”

Sean signed, he stayed with Elliot for a bit longer before bid the guy goodbye. Leaving Elliot back to being alone

Elliot tilted his head to the ceiling, the soft light warming his skin, and sighed. A white ceiling. Not the the aged wooden beams of the cabin lobby is first thing he saw when he just die. 

 

No more deathmatches.

No more Spectre.

No more pain.

 

Just peace.

 

And finally. Finally, a chance to sleep peacefully.

Elliot closed his eyes.

And smiled.

 

~ { Stay Uninjured Elliot } ~

Notes:

1311 words
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yes, Sean is not from Forsaken nor Work at the pizza place, not an oc, maybe an npc? idk he just there. But for context, he work with Elliot before Elliot got Forsakened, still works here because he needs the money to pay his rent, his parents only cover his college tuition

Chapter 2: Back In Track

Summary:

"return to normalcy" means going back to a regular, stable, or peaceful way of life after a period of difficulty, crisis, or disruption.
fun fact: In the early twentieth century, President Warren Harding popularized the word normalcy with his slogan, "Return to normalcy." Harding was referring getting back to normal life after World War I.

Notes:

I just wanted to rush through all the sad chapters and finally pushed to the happy chapters so bad you don't get it, I want sunshine and lolipops!!!

Chapter 2: Back In Track

Weeks had passed since Elliot had returned, and slowly, things began to shift for the better. The scars, both visible and buried deeper, had started to fade. His body, once worn and frail, found strength again, and bit by bit, Elliot felt more like himself. That morning, he woke to the warmth of sunlight spilling through the window, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of spring brushing against his cheek. It was a new day, familiar yet different. Not quite a fresh start, but a continuation. And for once, that was enough. After everything he’d endured, even the simplest moments held a new kind of magic.

“Found it! Your key!” Sean’s voice rang out, light and triumphant. He held up the old brass key like it was some legendary artifact, grinning as he handed it to Elliot. “Took me hours, y’know. Thought I’d have to dig through my entire junk drawer.”

Elliot let out a small laugh, raising a brow. “Seriously, why did my dad trust you to keep my house safe?”

Sean scoffed and gave Elliot’s shoulder a playful pat, smirking with his usual smugness. “Maybe because I’m not just charming, but super cool, and let’s be honest, your dad secretly admires me.”

“AUGH-” Sean’s bravado was cut short as Elliot reached out and tugged a handful of his hair.

“Ew. Whatever,” Elliot muttered, rolling his eyes but cracking a faint smile. He turned the key over in his palm, feeling the weight of it, both literal and metaphorical. A small smile tugged at his lips as he glanced back at Sean.

“But really... it’s good to see you again. Thanks…for everything. You’ve been helping my sorry ass these past couple of days more than I expected anyone to be.”

Sean just laughed, waving it off with that effortless air he always had. “Come on, dude. That’s what friends do.”

“Stop that,” Elliot teased, narrowing his eyes. “You’re acting all soft. It’s weird. Stop being out of character.”

Sean shrugged, brushing the moment aside with a grin. A brief silence settled between them, not uncomfortable, just... suspended.

Then Sean spoke, more quietly this time. “So... why did you go missing? For two years?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and echoing. Elliot’s smile faltered. His fingers closed around the key a little tighter. His gaze dropped to the floor.

He didn’t answer right away. The question was simple, but the answer was anything but.

After a long pause, he forced a crooked smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Rough story. Maybe... maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

With that, he turned toward the door, slipping the key into his pocket. The sunlight outside beckoned again, and he stepped into it, leaving Sean’s house behind.

But even as he walked away, he felt the weight of the past clinging to his steps—quiet, unseen, and unresolved.

-

-

-

Back in his home, Elliot kicked his shoes off and stood motionless for a moment, taking in the familiar surroundings. The same creaky floorboards. The same faded couch. The chipped mug still sitting on the kitchen counter. Everything was exactly as he remembered it.

He smiled, bright and full of disbelief.

“I’m… home,” Elliot whispered, his voice barely audible, yet trembling with a storm of emotions he couldn’t hold back.

It was real. He was finally back. After everything, the pain, the nightmares, the deadly matches in the Forsaken Realm

he was home.

And just like that, the pizza guy crumpled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. The weight of it all crushed down on him at once. God, he couldn’t believe it. He was free. Free. Free from that hellish place.

Yet…

 

Why did it hurt so much?

 

Guilt twisted like a knife in his chest. His heart pounded not with relief, but with unease. How are they doing back there? The others. His friends. His family in that cursed place.

 

Was Noob worried? Had he waited by the lobby cabin, expecting Elliot to respawn? Did he think Elliot had abandoned them?

 

Who would heal the Sentinels when they were down to an inch away from death?

 

Who would stop Shedletsky from hogging all the midnight snacks?- Ok joke aside Elliot…

 

A million questions surged through Elliot’s mind, blurring his vision. He stared blankly at the hardwood floor, his thoughts spiraling.

 

Will it be my fault if they’re hurt?

 

I might be the reason they die?

 

“No… snap out of it, Elliot!” he growled to himself.

With a sudden motion, he slapped his cheek hard, enough to sting. Enough to pull him back to the present. With effort, he forced himself to stand, his legs unsteady beneath him.

He dragged his exhausted body across the living room and into his bedroom. The moment he stepped in, a sense of familiarity washed over him like warm sunlight. Everything was still here. Just as he left it.

He rushed to his desk and pulled open the drawer.

“I knew it!” he grinned, pulling out a small, dust-covered device.

His old phone.

The same one he’d used for years before getting kidnapped into the Forsaken Realm. He brushed his thumb over the cracked screen. It still worked. Somehow, it was still here. Safe. Waiting for him.

Lying down on his bed, the springs groaning beneath him, Elliot unlocked the phone and opened his contacts. His heart skipped a beat when his eyes landed on a name he hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime:

Father <3

A bittersweet smile curled his lips as he tapped it. The line started to ring. He held the phone close to his ear, his breath caught in his throat.

*Ting!*

A voice exploded on the other end, filled with fury and fear.

“I swear to god, leave me alone! Don’t you scammers dare pretend to be my son and try to take my money! DO YOU HAVE NO SHAME?!”

Elliot’s heart twisted.

God... what had happened?

“Cancel the phone call before-”

“Dad” Elliot interrupted gently, voice trembling. “It’s me.”

Silence.

 

A long, aching silence

 

Then, the unmistakable sound of papers crashing to the floor.

“E-Elliot?” His father’s voice cracked like shattered glass. Raw. Disbelieving. Breaking.

“Yes,” Elliot whispered, barely able to speak. “It’s me… I-I’m back. I’m home.”

Another silence, deeper this time. Then a sob, choked and gasping, echoed through the phone.

“Hang in there,” Mr. Builder rasped. “I-I’ll bring Mia over. Right now. Just stay there, okay? Don’t move. Don’t disappear again.”

Elliot nodded, even though his father couldn’t see him. His chest heaved with emotion.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, voice cracking. “Not anymore.”

And for the first time in a long time, Elliot let himself believe it.

 

He was home.

 

Really, truly  home.

 

And as he waited for his family to return, one promise burned bright in his heart:

 

He would find a way back.

 

He had to.

 

Because they were still there.

 

And he wouldn’t leave them behind. Not forever.

-

-

-

Not long after, the doorbell rang, once, twice, then over and over in a rapid frenzy.

Elliot’s heart skipped a beat. He practically stumbled over his own feet as he rushed to the front door. The moment he opened it-

 

WHAM.

 

A small blur launched at him with the force of a meteor, knocking him flat onto the floor.

“BROTHER! YOU STUPID FART FACE! Y-YOU-!”

Mia’s voice cracked mid-sentence, swallowed by her sobs. She clung to him like her life depended on it, tiny fists bunched into his shirt, her face buried into his shoulder. Her body shook with every breath.

Elliot didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her close, grounding her, grounding himself. His throat burned with unshed tears.

“I’m here,” he whispered, voice trembling, lips pressed to her hair. “I’m here…”

Then came another pair of arms, larger, rougher, trembling just as much.

“It’s g-good to s-see you back, my son…”

His father’s voice was low and hoarse, barely holding together. He stood above them, one hand on Elliot’s back, the other covering his face in a desperate attempt to contain the flood that was about to break loose.

Elliot choked on a breath, tightening his hold on Mia as he let the tears fall freely.

“I… I’m home,” he sobbed, his voice cracking like glass. “I’m really home.”

The three of them stayed there on the floor for a long moment, tangled in a heap of arms and emotions, lost in the warmth of something that had once seemed out of reach: family.

Later, after they had some small chat with each other, Elliot walked them to the front gate. The sky was a soft pastel orange, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the quiet street.

“D-dear… are you sure you don’t want to come back with us?” his father asked, a nervous tremble in his voice. Understandable, really. After all, his son had vanished without a trace, as if swallowed by the earth itself. And now, here he was again, just as suddenly. Who could blame a father for fearing he might disappear once more?

Elliot smiled gently. “I’ll be fine, Father. I promise.”

“You better be,” Mia said between sniffles. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and she still hadn’t let go of his sleeve. She clung to it like an anchor, as if letting go would pull him away from her again.

Elliot crouched down to her level, brushing a lock of hair out of her face.

“Come on, Mia. You should go with Dad. I’ll visit soon, promise. I’ve got… things to do before off to work tomorrow.”

He didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want her to worry. He couldn’t tell her everything, not yet.

“You promise…?” she whispered, voice small and uncertain.

“Pinky promise,” Elliot said, holding up his smallest finger.

Mia wrapped her pinky around his and gave it the tiniest squeeze.

“Who else is gonna babysit you if I vanish again, huh?” he teased with a grin.

She pouted and gave his chest a few half-hearted punches before giggling through her tears. “Idiot.”

Their father opened the car door, giving them a moment longer. Finally, Mia let go, reluctantly stepping away.

“Take care of yourself,” his dad said, eyes full of pride and worry.

“I will. Take care of her,” Elliot replied, giving them both a wave.

He watched as the car door shut, and the vehicle slowly rolled down the street, the two figures inside growing smaller and smaller until they disappeared around the corner.

The house was quiet again, but the warmth of their embrace still lingered on his skin like sunlight.

Elliot stood there for a moment longer, staring at the spot where they’d vanished. Then he turned, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him.

 

-

The house was silent.

 

Elliot let out a long sigh as he stepped into his room. It wasn’t even that late—he still had time today. Tomorrow, he’d get back on track. He’d reclaim his title as Employee of the Month. He’d climb back to the top, step by step, and prove he was worthy of inheriting his father’s company.

But even as he tried to look ahead, his thoughts pulled him back.

 

To the Forsaken Realm.

To the friends he left behind.

 

Was this freedom really his to enjoy… while they were still trapped?

 

“Stop it, Ell,” he muttered sharply to himself. “You’ll live a good life-for them. You’ll find a way to go back. You’ll help them escape.”

He mentally slapped himself. No. He would do it. He could. If he had escaped once, then there had to be a way for the others.

Grabbing a pencil and a stack of paper, he began to scribble furiously, the sound of graphite scratching against paper filling the quiet room.

 

He escaped because of a glitch. A bug. That strange pixel anomaly.

Maybe Spectre hadn’t noticed it in time. Maybe it was luck, a one-in-a-million shot.

But it worked.

 

“And to get back…” he mumbled.

 

Spectre chose its victims deliberately. Elliot had played a crucial role. He was visible. Important. If he vanished, Spectre would surely notice.

 

It might come for him again.

 

But how would he escape after going back? Would he need to make a sacrifice? Could they all use the bug again? And what about those who weren’t survivors—just trapped souls?

 

“Gahhh, I just can’t figure it out!” he snapped, tossing the pencil onto the desk.

He pulled the paper off the table and pinned it to the corkboard, the same one he used back when he was focused on self-improvement. Now, it had a new purpose:

 

Rescue.

 

A new page. He narrowed his eyes.

“Spectre…” he muttered, jotting down notes with quick, tense strokes.

 

The deity of cruelty. The master of the Forsaken Realm. The kidnapper, the game maker. No physical form. No known weakness.

Feeds off emotion, especially strong ones. Doesn’t care about survivors or killers. Only the intensity of their feelings.

He paused, the pencil lingering over the page.

 

Was he making it easier for Spectre to find him by being this emotional?

 

He tacked the note to the board.

Another paper, another scribble:

 

Spectre takes time to reset its death games. Maybe the glitch will still be there. Maybe there’s still a chance to exploit it… again.

 

Pinned.

Another:

 

Most items the survivors have are granted by Spectre. He can take them away, too. Total control.

How do you fight a god?

 

Pinned.

 

Spectre has no physical form…

 

He stopped.

The pencil fell from his hand.

“How… how am I supposed to help them?” he whispered, clutching his head. “I’m useless.”

He closed his eyes, took a breath,

No.

No, Ell. You’re not weak. You’re not useless.

You will save them.

 

The paper crumpled in his hand as he stood there, trembling. He tossed it aside.

It was late. His body ached.

The shower was a blur of warmth and steam, but it did little to quiet the storm inside his head.

“Fuck it, Ell! Stop being a wimp!” he barked at his reflection. “Get it together!”

A harsh slap to his cheek. Then he was out of the shower, throwing on a robe with a renewed sense of purpose.

“I’ll save them,” he whispered as he crawled into bed, eyes heavy. He didn’t bother with dinner, he didn’t have the appetite. Sleep tugged at him like a tide.

 

I’ll save them, he promised one last time, as the darkness embraced him.

---------------------[Next Morning]---------------------

Sharp at 5:30 a.m., Elliot jolted upright. His body was still wired to wake early—years of prepping pizzas for game nights would do that. What? You think those pizzas made themselves?

He brushed his teeth, splashed water on his face, and pulled on his classic uniform.

“Let’s bounce back, Elliot!” he said to himself with a grin, tying his hair and adjusting his visor.

Welcome back, Elliot.

Kicking the door open and hopping onto his motorbike, he zoomed through the streets toward the pizzeria. The morning air stung his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop smiling. There it was, Builder Brothers Pizzeria, unchanged, still the same familiar building that had once felt like home.

“Yo… is that who I think it is?”

“Dude, yeah! That’s Elliot Builder. Mr. Builder’s son. Didn’t he vanish like two years ago?!”

“He just came back? Outta nowhere?”

As Elliot picked up a customer's receipt, he could hear his coworkers gossiping behind the kitchen doors. He squinted back at them, sighing.

“Orders are stacking up, people! Move it already!”

But of course, they were still caught up in their conversation. Typical. Elliot huffed, grabbed a chef hat and apron, and got to work.

Like muscle memory, his hands flew. He spun the dough, tossed on toppings, slid the pies into the oven, all with the grace of someone who’d done it a thousand times.

“Done! Hey, why are you all staring at me like that?” he asked, raising a brow at his coworkers who were frozen in awe.

“DUDE. That was like… demon-level speed. Are you human?”

“Told you! There’s a reason I was Employee of the Month!”

Elliot just rolled his eyes at their amazement.

 

Ding!

 

The ovens chimed. Pizzas were ready.

“Alright, help me out here!” Elliot called, waving the other two chefs over. They snapped out of their trance and scrambled to assist.

“I’m heading to box these up!” Elliot tossed his apron aside and made his way to the boxing station.

“He’s insane,” one chef muttered.

“Is this what multitasking really looks like?”

“I’m sure it’s beyond that…”

Elliot ignored them. At the station, fresh pizzas sat hot and waiting. He grabbed the cutter, no one was there to box? Again?

“Of course… understaffed as usual.” He sighed, slicing the pizzas with practiced ease, slipping them into boxes, and moving them to the delivery rack.

No surprise, no one had claimed the delivery shift either.

He adjusted his visor and loaded the pizzas onto his trusted motorbike.

Sure, delivery was exhausting. But the look on a customer's face when they got their food? That was worth everything.

He zipped through the neighborhood, knocking out deliveries one after the other.

“Oh my! That was fast!”

“They should give you a raise, boy!”

“Pizza! Just in time, I was starving!”

With every smile and thank-you, the warmth in his chest grew. He mattered. He was useful. He wasn’t just some kid who got lucky escaping.

By the time Elliot returned to the pizzeria, he was practically buzzing with energy. That warm, fuzzy feeling clung to him all the way to the front counter—until he spotted two lines of customers snaking across the floor like angry spaghetti.

The cashier was in full panic mode, punching random buttons on the register like it owed him money. A receipt shot out and hit a customer in the face. Another customer was trying to pay with a coupon from 2012.

Elliot strolled up, lightly patted the poor guy’s shoulder, and grinned.

“Need a hand?”

-

-

Ten minutes later, the chaos was tamed. Orders were flying out, the lines soon went empty, leaving them some free time. The cashier, now red-eyed and trembling, hugged Elliot like he’d just been rescued from a burning building.

“I thought I was gonna die,” he sniffled, voice muffled against Elliot’s shoulder.

Elliot just chuckled. “Relax, man. It’s just pizza. Not a zombie apocalypse.”

Though honestly? The crowd was starting to look a little undead.

The cashier sagged in relief. “T-thank you! I was really scared…”

“No worries! You must be new. I’m Elliot.”

“I’m Cody. Yeah, kinda new... hehe,” Cody laughed awkwardly.

Elliot grinned. “Well Cody, if you need a tour or some tips, feel free to ask me. Or if I’m busy, go bug a nerdy guy named Sean.”

“I HEARD THAT, YOU DONKEY!” Sean yelled, bursting from the kitchen.

Elliot shrugged. “Yeah, yeah.”

For a beat, the three of them were silent. Then Elliot and Sean burst out laughing, and Cody soon followed with a shy giggle.

It felt like old times.

Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to feel… normal.

-

-

-

As the day dragged on, Elliot worked tirelessly until dusk.

By the time the last pizza had been boxed and delivered, his energy was completely drained, but in a strange way, it felt good. There was something comforting in the routine, something grounding.

In the dim glow of the locker room, he rested his head against the cool metal of his locker. A sigh escaped his lips. The exhaustion was real, but so was the quiet satisfaction.

He gathered his things and stepped out into the crisp evening air, swinging a leg over his motorbike.

“Home sweet home~” he whispered as the engine purred to life.

-

-

Back at his apartment, Elliot removed his visor and shuffled to the bathroom like a zombie. A long, hot shower awaited, and he was more than ready to let the water melt away the tension in his bones.

Steam filled the small room as he stepped under the stream, letting it wash over him. For a few minutes, there was nothing else, just warmth, silence, and the steady beat of water.

Dinner came next, something quick, mauled down without much thought. Afterward, Elliot retreated to his room.

The cluttered bulletin board stared back at him, covered in notes, maps, diagrams, his attempt to untangle the impossible.

He sighed and sat down at his desk, flicking on the lamp.

 

Will this work?

Spectre is too powerful. He cheated death too many times to be beaten by a handful of plans on scrap paper.

 

Can we all escape his grip?

Maybe...

 

Is there another way?

There has to be. There always is.

Soon, his desk was a battlefield of crumpled papers and discarded ideas. A few pages earned a spot on the board, most ended up on the floor or in the trash can. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes.

He knew this path would be long. Hope wasn't something that came easy. But while he got to live and work and laugh... they were still trapped.

 

Still fighting.

Still dying.

Again and again.

 

Tears welled up in his eyes as the images flooded in, the screaming, the blood, the endless respawns. The hopelessness.

“Oh God...” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please…”

As he reached for his pencil again, his fingers brushed against something unexpected. A small box.

 

He froze.

Looked down.

Cigarettes.

 

He stared at the familiar packaging, heart sinking.

He’d tried to quit. He really did.

Back when he hasn’t got forsakened, juggling angry customers and a skeleton crew, the stress had piled on fast. He remembered stepping outside one day during a break, only to see a fellow worker light up. Out of curiosity, he tried one. Then another. Then another.

 

It became his crutch.

 

And in the Forsaken Realm? It only got worse. The brutal matches. The endless bloodshed. The fear of being ripped apart, decapitated, choked out, again and again. Death had become routine. Cigarettes dulled the edge, soothed the tension. Even Spectre, strangely, let him keep the habit, maybe as a twisted act of mercy.

He was caught eventually, of course. Builderman had noticed the smell and found him mid-smoke. Elliot had begged, please, don’t tell the others. And Builderman didn’t. Instead, he gave him a chance to quit. Slowly, with the help of his friends, he managed to smoke less and less.

 

But now?

 

Now, there was no Builderman. No one to stop him.

 

He hesitated. Then pulled one out.

 

A flick of the lighter, a small flame, and the cigarette was lit. He stepped out onto the balcony and took a long drag.

 

The guilt hit instantly.

But so did the relief.

 

Elliot leaned against the railing, staring up at the sky. The stars glittered like fragments of forgotten hope. The moon hung there, full and gentle, like it was watching him, understanding, but silent.

He coughed a little, the smoke catching in his throat. Still, he couldn’t look away from the sky.

 

It was beautiful.

It was quiet.

It was not Forsaken.

 

The night wrapped around him like a soft blanket, and for a brief moment, the pain faded.

 

{The night is still long, Elliot.}

Notes:

3902 words
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I remember my finger ascended to heaven after I done writing this, I don't think I'll ever dare to write this much ever again... ;-;
also don't smoke guys, live love laugh our lungs <3

Chapter 3: Have You Seen Our Elliot?

Summary:

"yearn" is to have an intense feeling of longing for something, typically something that one has lost or been separated from. Some common synonyms of yearn are hanker, hunger, long, pine, and thirst. While all these words mean "to have a strong desire for something," yearn suggests an eager, restless, or painful longing.

Notes:

If I pronounce Two Time wrong, I'm sorry, I was very sleepy while writing this, checked and stuff but just in case if I did slip a mistake please forgive me

yeah, I change 1x1x1x1's text style, it was so annoying to use to old one sorry!
also my finger hurts, send help, chap 4 will come a bit slower since it needs a few fix up, I just found out it contains thousands of stupid mistake and I ain't let that slide >:(
And chap 5 or any further chapters will take longer to release since I haven't done writing that yet D:

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3247 words

Chapter 3: Have You Seen Our Elliot?

Far away, deep within the Forsaken Land, a place where sunlight was a forgotten myth and the air clung heavy like soaked cloth, sat a battered cabin near a crooked dock. Inside, ten survivors huddled around a flickering fire. No one spoke. No one dared. The only sound was the fire crackling weakly, struggling against the suffocating darkness.

Suddenly, Noob slammed their hand onto the splintered table, the loud thud echoing through the thick, oppressive air. their voice cracked, raw with frustration and panic:

“It’s been hours! Days! I don’t even know anymore! But Elliot still hasn’t come back! He hasn’t respawned!”

The anger collapsed into devastation. their knees buckled, and they sank back onto the couch, burying their face in his hands, ugly, desperate sobs shaking their body.

“Don’tcha worry, bud,” Builderman said, awkwardly patting Noob’s back. His tone was meant to soothe, but even he felt a cold knot tightening in his gut. Elliot, their healer, had vanished. And not even the Spectre’s cruelty could explain this.

“Fine?!” Noob wailed, voice breaking. “How can you say that? He could be out there, hurt, in pain, o-or worse!”

 

Their chest heaved. Thoughts spiraled. It was Elliot who had believed in them, when no one else would. Elliot, who shielded them, who treated them like a brother when Noob was nothing but a scared, useless newbie

 

And now?

 

Now they was helpless all over again

 

They wasn’t strong like Guest. They didn’t have a gun like Chance, or Shedletsky’s sword, or the survivalist grit of 007n7

But Noob? All they had were a few gadgets, barely enough to save themself

“Noob! Hey!” snapped Guest 1337, snapping them out of the spiral. Guest’s firm hand clamped onto Noob’s shoulder.

“Listen. I know you’re scared. We all are. But sitting here crying, is that gonna bring Elliot back?”

“No…” Noob mumbled, wiping their nose.

“Right. So we stay focused. We think. We find him. Together.”

Guest’s steady presence grounded him. Noob sniffled, nodding.

Right.They would find Elliot. They had to.

The fire hissed as a log popped, and Builderman spoke, his voice low and grim

“We’ve been waitin’ for him to respawn. But he ain’t here. Makes ya wonder…” He hesitated. “…Maybe the Spectre’s messin’ with us.”

 

A chill ran through the room.

 

"– --- -------- ------ ------ ---" (O-or did 1x1x1x1 really kill him?) Taph signed, the message cutting through the silence like a blade.

 

Even Chance, terrible at reading signs, froze. He understood.

“Nonsense!” Chance blurted, flipping his coin nervously. “We always respawn! That’s the rule! No way Elliot’s just... gone!”

But his voice lacked its usual cocky swagger.

“It could happen…” 007n7 said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice. He and Elliot had only just started mending their broken friendship…then this happens…

“It is possible,” Shedletsky muttered bitterly, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. “Maybe 1x1x1x1 found a way to kill a survivor. Permanently.”

He gritted his teeth. He should’ve protected Elliot. He promised to protect everyone. And now?

 

Elliot was gone.

 

Because of him.

 

Builderman noticed the storm brewing in Shedletsky’s eyes and smacked the back of his head, hard.

“snap out of it, ya stubborn jackass!” he barked.

Shedletsky blinked, inhaling sharply, forcing the guilt back down.Focus. They needed focus.

Builderman slid heavily into his chair, glancing over. "1x1x1x1, he killed Elliot that round. Maybe it knows what happened to Ell. Reckon we can get it to talk?"

Shedletsky crossed his arms, grim. "Slim chance. My creation is not big on small talk. More likely to get our head kissed his sword."

“99.99% of gamblers quit before they hit it big,” Chance said, flipping his coin and catching it on heads. “So why should we quit now?”

 

The others groaned.

 

Why it’s always Chance to treat life and death like a poker game.

“Besides,” Chance added with a crooked grin, “maybe Elliot pulled a fast one. Maybe he escaped.”

Typical Chance, too stupid or too stubborn to give up hope. And somehow... it made the room feel a little less cold.

“-- --- -- ----- -- -- -- ---?” (So are we gonna do it or not?) Taph signed impatiently, tugging Builderman’s sleeve.

Builderman sighed, scrubbing a hand down his tired face.

“…We’ll move. We gotta know. Whether he’s escaped, trapped, or…”

 

He couldn’t finish.

 

"Only one way to find out," Shedletsky said grimly. "We talk to 1x1x1x1."

"And to meet 1x..." Guest muttered, voice like iron dragging on stone.

“No choice but to play,” Dusekkar added, voice dramatic and low. “The Spectre pulls the strings, and we are but puppets.”

Two Time, pressed their hands together in prayer

"So it is decided, sealed in the shadow of fate! May the Spawn, in Their infinite mercy, cradle our fragile destinies! All praise to the Spawn, our guide, our shield, our salvation!"

Chance groaned, dragging his hands down his face.

“For the love of GOD, Two Time, can you not turn everything into a cult sermon?!”

Two Time gasped like Chance had committed actual blasphemy.

“Blasphemy drips from your tongue like rot! May the Spawn gaze upon your wretched soul and grant clarity!”

“Oh my god, I’m this close to throwing you into the lake,” Chance muttered under his breath.

Despite the grim situation, a few tired, worn smiles cracked across their faces.

 

It felt good to laugh. Even for a second.

 

“Whatever. Let’s go already,” Chance said, standing and dusting off his jacket.

It wasn’t their first suicide mission. It probably wouldn’t be their last. They were going to find Elliot, even if they had to tear the Forsaken Land apart to do it.

-

-

First Match:

To their misfortune, it was Jason.

The whole team struggled, something had ticked off Jason lately. The killer moved with a fury none of them had seen before, pouring out his rage in every brutal swing.

"Dear god, what’s with him these days?!" Noob hissed as Dusekkar patched him up. They were hiding in the ball pit at Horror Hotel; Noob had been lucky enough to cut ties with Jason, leaving Guest and Shedletsky to handle him

"I fear that Spectre’s whispered lies. Have veiled the truth behind his eyes. I go to lend a steadfast hand, For Shedletsky’s swing can barely land. He falters oft, he strikes the air, The target waits, but he’s not there"

Dusekkar said all that before sprinting away, leaving Noob blinking 

"Yeah…uh, take care! Even though I don't understand what you’re saying!" Noob called weakly

 

God, they missed Elliot. Elliot would always explain Duse’s weird riddles for them

 

Thinking about Elliot made Noob sign a quick prayer, hoping wherever their friend was, he was okay...

Meanwhile-

"JESUS, SHED, HOW DID YOU MISS THAT?!" Chance screamed as Jason slammed into him with a vicious hit. Luck had absolutely abandoned him this match, his gun jammed at the worst moment, and Jason had jumped him.

Now he was running for dear life alongside Shedletsky, the big chicken lover who had missed a perfect swing.

"JASON WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!"

"SHUT IT! I THOUGHT HE'D JUKE MY SWING!" Shedletsky shouted back. Blood ran freely down his arm from Jason’s gashing wounds, His sword, was on cooldown.

 

-WACK-

 

Just as Jason reared back for another strike, Guest came flying in like an avenging god, punching Jason across the face and buying them precious seconds.

"Dusekkar’s nearby! Go find him! I think he knows where Builder is!" Guest barked, before whirling back to stall Jason again.

-

-

They won the match, barely.

Guest almost died if Dusekkar hadn’t arrived in time to cast the shield, Jason would’ve taken Guest’s life.

"I’m never trusting you and your swings again," Chance grumbled, clutching his side.

"You donkey! At least my swing doesn’t gets jammed like your pathetic peashooter!" Shedletsky shot back smugly.

"Say what, you fat chicken?!"

"What, you didn’t hear me? Maybe remove that stupid headphone glued to your head!"

And, of course, the two immediately started bickering back and forth, loud and ridiculous, classic.

-

-

Second Match:

"NO FAIRRR!!!"

C00lkidd’s voice echoed across the entire map. Again, he missed the target, throwing a small tantrum loud enough for everyone to hear in Glass House.

Two Time darted around, distracting the killer as best as they could. Builderman and Taph were busy setting up equipment. Chance, meanwhile, probably cowering in some corner, flipping his lucky coin until he could "heroically" pop out and shoot the killer.

And 007n7?

He stayed low, focused, working desperately on the machines. He didn’t have the heart to face C00lkidd, not anymore.

 

Not his son.

 

Not anymore.

 

Twisted. Blinded by the Spectre.

 

No longer his son...

 

"Hello, 7n7-"

The sudden voice behind him made 007n7 jump. His hand jerked, accidentally yanking a wire loose. The machine sparked, crackling with stray electricity before going silent.

"God! Guest, you scared me..." 007n7 gasped, his nerves frayed.

Guest only smiled, far too kindly. 007n7 still couldn’t understand why Guest stayed with him after everything. After the things he had done.

 

He didn’t deserve that kindness.

 

He deserved to rot.

 

"Hello? 7n7?" Guest called gently.

"O-oh! Right! Sorry, I lost focus! What were you trying to say again?" 007n7 stammered, scratching his head, deeply embarrassed.

"It’s fine. Don’t push yourself, okay?" Guest said, brushing it off with his usual warmth. "Anyway, do you know where the medkit is? Two got chased early. I doubt that cultist could hogged all the supplies."

007n7 flinched. "Oh... sorry... I didn’t find any..." He fidgeted with his fingers, ashamed.

"7, listen," Guest said, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "It’s okay if you can’t fulfill every request."

But 007n7 shoved the hand away, guilt flooding him.

"No... I’ve caused enough havoc already... I can’t afford to fail anyone again."

Guest frowned, then without a word, pulled him into a quick, firm hug. A few pats on the head followed.

"You’re not useless, 7n7," Guest said quietly. "Everyone’s moved on. Even Elliot, your #1 hater, forgave you. People can change, and you deserve that chance too. Don't bring yourself down, okay?"

With that, Guest sprinted off, diving back into the fray.

007n7 stood frozen, left alone with his thoughts.

"Maybe... he’s right..." he mumbled weakly.

 

Nonsense.

 

Guest only said that out of pity.

 

You’re pathetic.

 

The words struck like a blade. 007n7 inhaled shakily and forced himself to reconnect the wires.

 

Stay out of their way.

 

What do you even contribute?

 

Hide. Coward. Useless.

 

You couldn't even face your own "son"

 

You always rot somewhere else like a rat.

 

“SHUT UP-”

Then, chilling, familiar tune drifted through the air, the Last Man Standing music.

007n7’s blood ran cold.

 

The others... had fallen?

 

He stood up, breath trembling, as a red figure emerged from a distance, skipping, giggling, approaching fast.

"I’m coming for you, Dad!"

C00lkidd, no, that thing wearing C00lkidd’s face, was hunting him now.

 

Oh no no no…

-

-

In the end, it was a win.

But at what cost?

Everyone else had died.

007n7 survived, barely, but it tore him apart.

It was unbearable to see the boy he once gave up everything for now twisted into something monstrous, chasing him down like prey.

It hurt worse than any wound Jason or any other killers could ever inflict...

-

[many matches later]

-

“It has been 5 matches! When will we see 1x1x1x1?!”-Chance complain, stomping one feet on the floor repeatedly, a match always consumes a lot of time and energy

“----- ---  ---- - - -------? (I thought you guys said that 1x usually appear more often??)”-Taph titled his head, looking confuse

“well I don’t know! 1x1x1x1 would appear in like almost every time! He’s more active than other killers, what’s with her today?”-Noob said as they chugged down a can of Bloxy Cola

“Or maybe she’s just dodgin’ us? Could also be after what went down with Ell, the Spectre’s got its claws in 1x1x1x1 now…”-Builderman, siting still on the sofa, deep in his thoughts

“Maybe, the Spectre should notice Elliot’s absence by now”-Shedletsky on the other hand, couldn’t stand still, he walk around in a circle repeatedly

“We-”

“Brace yourselves, the call rings clear, another match is drawing near. With hearts ablaze and spirits high, we rise once more to chase the sky”-Dusekkar chimed in, announcing another bloody match about to start

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?!”-Chance from upstairs, groan in annoyance

“pack it up everyone, we’ll get moving soon”-Shedletsky grab his sword, sign tiredly

-

-

The moment the ground started, Shedletsky drag his body to the machine, he knows he won’t do much since he’ll need to run out there and help the distractor in no time but if it cut off some work for the team, then he doesn’t mind-

Clash!

A green, sharp shockwave would’ve landed onto Shedletsky if he hadn’t leave the machine one second early. Although almost lost a huge amount of damage, the admin feel like he finally found gold, well he kinda is

The physical manifestation of pure malice, 1x1x1x1 is the killer this round

Finally

The others should have heard 1x1x1x1’s charge attack sound, they should be on their way now

“W͞e̷l͏l͠ ͟w̴e͝l̵l̡ ͝w̕e͘l͞l̷,̴ ͏l͟o̵o͞k ̶w͘h͟a̕t ͘w͏e̴ ̨h̷a͠v̢e̕ ͟h̸e̴r̛e͢.͠.̡.͞ ~”- 1x slowly walk up to Shedletsky, or aka her no.1 target list-

Shedletsky dropped his sword

The fucking prideful Shedletsky dropped his sword and raise his hands up as a sign of surrender

1x1x1x1’s eyes widen, it’s a really rare sight to see the admin to surrender immediately, no fight, no fleeing

nothing

“1x, I know I have no say here as you could kill me at any moment, but hear me out”- the admin said hesitantly, he knows the chance is really low, he’s vulnerable and his creation could kill him at anytime right now,

but 99,99% of gamblers quit before they win big

Wait that’s Chance’s line-

“W͟h̷a̶t͞ ̴d͟o̷ ͞y͝o̴u̸ ̢w̡a͘n͝t͢?̢ S̕p͘i̷t̶ ͏i̴t̶ ̛o͠ųt͟—͝b͢e̕f̶o̸r͏e͏ I̶ ͏s̵n͡a̶p͠ ̢ýo̢u͢ ̕o͢u͜t ͘o͘f ͝e͝x́i̴s͝t͞e̕n͡c͟e.͟”-1x crossed his arm, glare at his creator

Oh my god it works

Shedletsky think to himself as he felt the weight in his shoulder being lifted

“s-so, us survivors wanted to ask you just one question, would you mind tell us what happened in that one round, the one where we bring Elliot with us, also the last round we saw him and also what happened to you after that…”-Shedletsky ask warily, fidgeting his finger like crazy

"T͞h̢e͟ ̛o͢n͝e͏ ͏i̷n̛ P͘l̷án̷ęt̸ V̨o͢s̴s͢?̡"

“Yes! That one!”

Then there it was, the admin noticed a glimpse of hesitation in 1x’s eye, but it was quickly replaced with an annoyed look

"̶Y͜o̸u̷ ̨w͢a͠n͢n̴a͞ ̛k̵ńo͞w͟ s̷o͜ ̷b̢a̷d͠?̡ ͞T̷h̸e̸n̛ ́b̸e͢g̸ ͘f̡o̴r ͟i̸t.͘"- 1x smirk, there no way fucking Shedletsky will do-

“Fine. I beg. Are you happy now?”- 1x was stunned, she have no idea how did the prideful, ego as high as a mountain, Shedletsky here, right now down her knees, begging. 1x1x1x1 hissed and stab his sword through the admin’s shoulder, Shedletsky clenched his jaw, try his best to not scream in pain, he might say nothing at all. Just stare, wounded pride burning behind his eyes. Silence becomes his final act of rebellion. 1x grunted, she looks away, turning her heels around and begin her story, she doesn’t know if she’ll be in trouble with the Spectre this time

“F͡ín͞e͏,̸ ͜t͞h́i͏n̴g̷s ̢p̛r̶o͡će̵e͡d̨e͡d͝ ̸n̨o̢r͡m͜a͏l̷ ̛t̶h͡a͞t͢ ̀r̷o͟u͏n̷d̵.͏ ͞I̴ ̵ćh̵a̡n͞g̴e͠d͝ ̷m̷y̷ ̷t̷a͡r̀g͟e͡t̵ ̷f̕ŕo͝m͝ ̛y̡óu͞r̨ ̴s̡o̴r̀r͠y̷ ́a͟s͏s̶ ̕t͞o͝ ͠P͘i͘z̛z͘a̷ ́M͏a̢n̷.͝ ̨W̸e ͘d͠i̵d ̷à ̴n̷o͏r̢m͢a͞l̨ ͡c̨h̀a̴s̷é—t̡h͘ín̷g̨s̢ ͞w̷e̶n̛t͘ f̛i̴n̵e͝... ́u̷n̛t͟i͝l̀ ̸t͏h͡e͡ ́l̸a͠s̸t͡ ͝m̴o͏m̵e͢n̨t̨ when I’m about to finish him, ⸮̴̶̵̷̷̶̷̴̷̷̶̶̢̢̡̗̗͎͍͖̖̟̩̖͖͉͍̜̟̜̝̬̳̖̠̳͈̰̰͓̻͉͔̠͚͎̼͓͙̥̪̜̖͎̟̲̮̦̳͚̠͖̖̼̗̠̼̅̿ͮͪ͆͛͊ͪ̕͜͜͠͡͞͝ͅ⸮̶̴̴̡̛̥̖͚͕̲̼͜͢͠͡͠͝⸮̴̶͓̞͍̲̳̻̕̕͜͟͞⸮̺̯͍͍̜̩̰͢͟͡͝͞⸮̮͓̮̗̩̙̟͕̘̰̦̘̕̕͞͠͞ͅ⸮̴̴̸̴̸̷̶̴̨̢̡̨̡̨̢̛̛̛̰̱͓͖̠̙̠͉͕̫̗̠̲̤͈̖̮͕͎̩͈̪̼̝̠̻͈̲͓͍͙͎̫̝̤͖̕͢͟͠͝͞͞͞ͅ"W̸̯̹̩̤̺͖͇̬͙͓̙̲̯̟̍̈́̀̈́̀͛h̶̤̪̗̟̤̳̰͉̞̤̰͌͒͐̔͒͂̄̀͘͘̚͜͝͝ë̸̡̺͍͚̱̝̳̻́̓͋̓̈́͋́͆̓̕͝ͅn̶̤̘̮͖̹̯̯͓̐̿̍͒͘ ̵̰̝͎̟̟̳̖̹̹͈͖̓̎̆̍̔͑̒͒́̀̚͝͝͝I̴̢̖͍͕̗̘̬̳̻̺͍̮̬̰̦̼͐̎̐̀͗̑́̍͐͘͜͠͝ ̸̛͍̪̰͓̘̲̞̯͗̅̍̔͐̍̓̽͐̎͘̕͜͜͝͝k̵̛̮͓̗͉͙̹̝̝̹̱̲̪̞̯̋͌͛̌̿̓̑̌͑̍̍͗͒͌͝͝͝ͅi̸̛̤̻͙͙͒̓̔̈́̔̇̑́͒͒̔́̕͝l̷̛̛͖̩̫͕̳͙̟̖̪͙̩̑̃̆̿͌͂͊͛̓͗̕͜͝l̶̛̲̗̘͇̖͎̒̄̾̈́̐̏̈́̑͐͊́͘͝͠e̵̢̛̟̳͓̰̟̼̼̠͖̙̦̬̺̯͊͒̑̎̋͗͂̽̐͆̍̿̅̽͝͝d̷̰̯̪̺̼̗͎̘̫͖̮̮̲͐̒̈́̆̄͗͂̑̄͝ ̶̰͇̪͇͈̝̤̟̼͕̘͈͓̼͎̰͙̳͛̈́̈́̅̓̓͊͊̈́͒͋̽̇̔̿͆͝E̷̛̞̱͕̤͎͉̘̟͒͂͛̕͝͠l̵͉̤̞̱͉̰͕̲̘͎̰̲̩̈́̽͆͋̐͛̿̍͆̽́͘̚l̷̢̛̛̛͇̹̼͉̜̜̩̱̠̪̲̱͗̌̌̾͆̽̚͘͜ḭ̸̢̛̯̥͙̩͙̺̝̩̖̮͍͎̙̞͕̈́͌̿̍̄͒̔̎͐̚͝͠o̴̡̡̢̩͈͉͕͕̖̖͕̬̜͖̘̟͌̒̎̎͗̎̅̈́͗́̓͝t̵̲̳̤̟͉̙̙͓̖̼̞͍̲̲̼͒̾̐̎̆̑̓̓̔̈́̾̾͘̕͝͠ͅͅͅ…"̶̗͚̬̦̲̯̘̜̤̰̲̯̽͊̓̓̀͛͌͜H̴̡̛̰̜̲̲̱̬͎̹͙̘͙͓̹̲̥̬̺̓͆͊̋͘̚ḛ̷̮̩͉̐̓̄͌̈́̍̅͋͝ͅ ̸̡̱̱͓͙̲̺͙̠̟̮̳̰͉͈͊̓̎͊̒͊͑̏̽̑͂̌͗̿̕͜͝͝ď̸̨̤̰͍̤͓̬̘̠̠͕̬̮̹͈̳̖̩̹͖̋̎̈́̆̄̏̅͆̔́̈́̀̓̎̑͘i̷̺͕̱͎̠͇͈͉̮͖͉͓̠͎͙̔͆͌͛͆̅̋̏̓͋̍̽͐̕͝d̴̢̡͍͖̯̗͍̬̜̞͇̞̐̇̎̐͊͐̀͊͌̓̇͂͒͘͘͜͠͠n̶̨̛̤͔̬̩̰̞̰̞̺͕̺̜̰̪̍̏̇̿̓̎͐͝'̷̛̞͔͚̹̖͈̩̱̘͔̥̘̺̤̤̯̲̼͊̑̅͋̓̅̋̿̿͘͘͝t̴̢̢̛̛͎͙͚͈̬̘̖̙͖̖̤̘͈̖̖͋͌̐̎̆̾̈́͛̄̔̎̈́͛̕͝ ̶̩͙̠̳̪̟͍̼͎͆͗͒͐̈́̓͂͐̎͑̈́͘̚͘s̸̼̼̪̰̝̮̬̝͈̼͎̮̰̬̬͋̈́̔̿͒̍̑͋̑̈́͋͂͆̕̚͝ͅͅt̴̢͙̥̺̼̘̤̬̞̱̝͂͋͐̓̅́͋̏̅̑̇̐͛́͋͘a̸̙̪͕͍͍͈͉͇̥̱̳̥̤̤͓̓̅͒̈́͐͂͌̄̅͂̈́̀̕̚ͅy̵̨̛̟̩̹̪̹͙̥̠͖̳͇͈͕͚͆̅͂̎̐̇͋̾̿̽̓̋̓͋̕͜͜͠*"̮̥̮͙̮͛̓̎̏͋̎̇̅̈́̓̇͘̚͝T̶̢̘̦̻͎̲̺͇̤̫͍͔̬̑̈́̀̎͑͗̔̈́̈́̋̀̕̕͘͜͠ͅḧ̸̛͈́̈́̀̐͋͑̓̏̇̅̍̋̈́͊͝⸮̴̶̵̷̷̶̷̴̷̷̶̶̢̢̡̗̗͎͍͖̖̟̩̖͖͉͍̜̟̜̝̬̳̖̠̳͈̰̰͓̻͉͔̠͚͎̼͓͙̥̪̜̖͎̟̲̮̦̳͚̠͖̖̼̗̠̼̅̿ͮͪ͆͛͊ͪ̕͜͜͠͡͞͝ͅ⸮̶̴̴̡̛̥̖͚͕̲̼͜͢͠͡͠͝⸮̴̶͓̞͍̲̳̻̕̕͜͟͞⸮̺̯͍͍̜̩̰͢͟͡͝͞⸮̮͓̮̗̩̙̟͕̘̰̦̘̕̕͞͠͞ͅ⸮̴̴̸̴̸̷̶̴̨̢̡̨̡̨̢̛̛̛̰̱͓͖̠̙̠͉͕̫̗̠̲̤͈̖̮͕͎̩͈̪̼̝̠̻͈̲͓͍͙͎̫̝̤͖̕͢͟͠͝͞͞͞ͅ"”

-1x1x1x1 suddenly stop, both the creator and his creation noticed, 1x1x1x1’s voice suddenly went more glitch at that one part

“is it me or your voice sounds off?...”-Shedletsky whispered

"s̵̤̀͝h̷̢̍͆͠u̶͈̎͝t̶̛̠͓͂̅ ̸̬̲͗t̷͕͓̅͠ḧ̴̦́̍̍e̸̜̅ ̶͉̾f̵̘̟̍̀u̷͚̾͑c̴͍͓̈́͂͘k̷̨͈̋ ̴̦͐͂ų̴͎̑̾ṗ̷̛͉,̴͇͉̍̈́͘ ̷̤̬͌͂͌İ̶̢͆ ̶̛̪͍̀͊d̶͈̯̋ő̸͚̮ǹ̵̤̠̑͋’̸̼̏t̵̰̕͠ ̸͇̜̌̓k̴͚̀͊n̴̙͙̅͛o̸͓̬͐̽w̸̰̙̅̿—"- 1x1x1x1 suddenly felt like there’s something griped her throat, stopping her from speaking further-

 

[Round ended! Survivor win!]

And Shedletsky’s back in the cabin, sitting with his other teammates

“Somethin’ go down? Match just ended outta nowhere…”-Builderman asked everyone

“Did anyone talk to 1x1x1x1?”

“what did they say?!”

“where did all of you go? I can’t find anyone at all”

Soon it turned into a mess, tons of question being poured everywhere, noises and noises, Shedletsky slam his hand hard on the table, shout

“ME! I meet 1x, we talked!”-He said

“why did you said it sooner?”-Guest asked but all he received in an angry face from Shedletsky

“did you let me???”-The admin huffed then began to explain what had happen, from when he asked 1x to tell the whole story to 1x suddenly can’t speak and the game ended

“So right when 1x1x1x1 was ‘bout to spill the big stuff, her voice just… cut out—like somethin’ was stoppin’ him from speakin’ straight…”-Builderman rubbed his chin, slowly losing himself to his thought

“I think the Spectre tried to stop 1x from spitting out the information for some reason”-Noob suggest

“Rare chance that Spectre is stopping us from confirm that Elliot is dead, perhaps he DID escape”-Chance lay down onto the sofa, throw off his fedora somewhere he don’t know, he’ll picked it up later

“---- - -- - ------  - ---- - -- - - - ------ ------ ------ --- ---------------(I think it’s happened when Elliot got chased by 1x1x1x1, per chance right when Elliot about to or have died by 1x’s Daemonshank)”-Taph signed, which earned a few nod from the others

“maybe it’s some kind of bug or glitch…”-007n7 said raised his hand hesitantly
“s-since when I used to be an exploiter, I experienced and abused…those thing a lot to make the exploiting easier-”

“wait 7n7, you’re a GENIUS!”- Builderman flicked his finger, his face lighten up

“Elliot might somehow found a glitch and escaped this place!...or that bug makes 1x1x1x1 kill Elliot permanently…”-Builderman said, the air felt somewhat less heavier upon hearing Elliot might didn’t actually die

“I lean toward the first, it rings more true, didn’t Chance once say what Spectre would do? A death? Mere dust beneath its eye. But escape? That beast would howl and cry. Yes, I believe it’d lose control,when freedom slips beyond its hold.”-Dusekkar chanted

“Yeah! Maybe if we find where that glitch is, we’ll also escape and find Elliot!”-Noob gasp with hope, they swear they’d believe this even if it’s a lie, they refuse to believe Elliot dead, no please don’t, they don’t wanna lose more

“Blessed be the Spawn! May its will be done! We march, we run, we are its chosen ones! Guide us, Spawn, through fire and flame, to our friend, we claim your name! The bug on Planet Voss, it festers there, in that map, it hides with despair! Spawn, Spawn, bless our path, let your wrath be our guiding wrath! Luck is ours, by your decree! Spawn, Spawn, set us free!”-Two Time smile wider, holding their hand together, giving that creepy aura around them

“Anyways, Ell vanished, last anyone saw ‘im was on Planet Voss. Might be the bug’s lurkin’ there too. Reckon we oughta check it out. Just like what TT said”-ignoring the cultist’s weird behavior, Builderman lead down to one conclusion

“but seems like everyone is tired…let’s get some rest before we off to investigate more”-It’s 007n7, well everyone agree with him and each person separate to their cabin

“wep, good night then!”-Shedletsky said, watch everyone walk away to their own cabin

-

-

-

 

Chapter 4: Trouble At Work!!

Summary:

"Obstacle" is a thing that blocks one's way or prevents or hinders progress, something that blocks you so that movement, going forward, or action is prevented or made more difficult

Notes:

why don't I just add a few funny moments for (me and not) Elliot, slice of life mix with comedy sounds funny :]

Chapter 4: Trouble At Work!!

The sunlight speared through the flimsy curtains and struck Elliot right in the eye like a divine slap from the sun god himself.

“Ughhh…” he groaned, pulling the blanket tighter over his face like it could magically rewind time. Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

 

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE-

 

The alarm clock let out a screech that could rattle ghosts.

“Alright, alright! I’m up!” Elliot slapped the alarm with a muffled yell. It turned off with a smug little click, satisfied with its daily contribution.

Dragging himself out of bed like a zombie who had to clock in for his shift in hell (he actually might be it in the future but yk-), he shuffled toward the bathroom, muttering under his breath.

“I hope today goes as normal as possible,” he yawned, rubbing one eye. The sleep had been heavenly, warm, heavy, like being wrapped in a burrito of peace. A burrito he desperately wanted to crawl back into.

But life, as always, was an impatient jerk.

He had a job to do. Pizza wasn’t going to deliver itself.

Inside the bathroom, Elliot attempted the sacred multitasking ritual: brushing his teeth while fixing his hair. A terrible idea, but he had faith in himself—unfounded, but faith nonetheless.

He reached out for the hair tie, his mouth still foaming, and that’s when disaster struck.

 

His foot slipped.

 

“Woah-woah-WOA-”

His hand knocked over a plastic cup sitting innocently on the counter. It bounced off the sink and whack! right onto his head.

Momentum betrayed him. Balance became a myth. Gravity claimed its next victim.

 

CRASH!!

 

Elliot landed flat on the tile floor, head-first. Toothpaste foam oozed down his face like a sad waterfall, the toothbrush now wedged awkwardly against his cheek like a white flag of surrender.

For a moment, he just lay there in stunned silence.

Then the cup, as if to insult him one final time, rolled off the edge of the sink and bounced, bonk, right on his forehead.

“…Owwww…” Elliot groaned, rubbing his temples. “God hates me.”

He flung the toothbrush and the evil cup across the room, stood up, rinsed his mouth, and glared at himself in the mirror. His hair looked worse than it did five minutes ago. Somehow it had developed volume, but in all the wrong places.

With a defeated sigh, he cleaned up the mess and limped out of the bathroom to get changed.

He opened his closet.

And blinked.

Inside were… uniforms. Just uniforms. A never-ending wall of pizza delivery uniforms. Red employee uniform with a black undershirt, and black pants, visors. It looked like the wardrobe of a cartoon character who never changes clothes.

“Why is it all uniform…?” he muttered, reaching in and pulling out a fresh set like a man choosing between one prison jumpsuit and another.

Was he used to always this obsessed with work? He tried to remember the last time he took an actual break, like, a real one, not just chain-smoking outside the back door pretending to enjoy the air. Work, smoke, sleep, repeat. That had been his life. Past him really needed a hobby

Or a therapist.

Maybe both-

He sighed, pulled on the uniform, slapped the visor onto his messy mop of hair, and stepped outside.

The morning air greeted him with a breeze that actually felt kind of nice. The motorbike was waiting.

Elliot smiled brightly and hopped on. Today is his first day of coming back to work. He had a weird gut feeling that the day wasn’t going to go smoothly… but hey, after being in hell for so long, he just hope he could still manage everything in the pizzeria like he used to! What could possibly go wrong?

Probably everything.

-

Upon arriving at the pizzeria, Elliot was immediately met with something that did not belong in front of a fast-food pizza joint at seven in the morning: a mob of people. And not the pizza-loving, coupon-waving kind either.

They lined up around the building like it was Black Friday, some holding signs, others gripping microphones, and-

wait, was that a full-blown camera crew?

Before Elliot could understand what’s going on, someone pointed and shouted like they’d just spotted a weird creature at McDonald’s:

“There! That’s him! That’s Elliot! Son of Mr. Builder!”

And then it happened.

The crowd turned on him.

A tidal wave of people surged toward him like he was the grand prize on a reality show. Microphones were shoved in his face, cameras flashed, and questions fired off like bullets.

“Sir, where have you been?!

 

“How did you disappear for two years and then just poof! come back?”

 

“Is it true you were in some sort of underground society? A secret project?!”

 

“How does it feel to be the son of the wealthy Mr. Builder? Did that affect your lifestyle?"

 

“Do you really have a sister? Where is she now?”

 

Elliot’s brain couldn’t keep up. The questions overlapped, one on top of the other, voices mixing into an incomprehensible stew of noise. He was being pushed, pulled, spun around, like a ragdoll caught in a tornado of nosy journalists.

He tried to speak. “P-please s-”

 

“Why do you work as a pizza delivery when you have a fortune?”

 

“Is it true this pizzeria is understaffed? How do you cope with the pressure?”

 

He couldn’t even get a full syllable out before another question smacked him in the face like a rogue anchovy. The stress climbed rapidly. His jaw tensed. He swore he felt a vein in his temple throbbing like a war drum.

And just when he was about to lose his remaining sanity-

“HEY! You all here to order pizza or harass Elliot? Because we’re fresh out of press passes!”

A booming voice cut through the madness. Sean, his friend, marched out from the back and began pushing people aside. He grabbed Elliot by the wrist and yanked him out of the crowd like a lifeguard saving a very dumb swimmer.

“P-please! P-please form an actual line if you’re here for food!” Cody, the pizzeria’s soft-spoken rookie, popped out from behind the counter like a frightened squirrel. He waved his arms in a desperate attempt to maintain peace, his apron on backwards and his notepad trembling in his hands.

 

But the crowd wasn’t done yet.

 

“Elliot, do you plan to continue your father’s legacy?”

 

“Will you inherit Builder Brother’s Pizzeria?”

 

“Have you decided your path, Mr. Elliot?”

 

Elliot snapped.

 

He climbed up on the cashier counter, eyes blazing, hair slightly frizzed from the storm of camera flashes, and roared:

“STOP. JUST STOP. Leave before I put every last one of you on our Blacklist of eternal bans!”

A collective gasp echoed through the crowd.

“I came here to work,” he continued, panting. “Not to get interrogated like a runaway prince. You barge into our pizzeria at seven A.M. and think it’s okay to throw a circus? This is a pizza joint, not a press conference. If I see one more camera, I’m calling the cops.”

The reporters, finally realizing they’d pushed too far, began to scatter. Some muttered curses under their breath. One guy in a blazer tried to pretend he was there for a calzone. They retreated like rats from a sinking ship, leaving behind nothing but awkward silence and a tipped-over news tripod.

Elliot slowly slid off the counter and let his head fall onto it with a soft thud.

 

“God... it’s not even 8 a.m. yet…”

 

Cody tiptoed closer, brows furrowed with concern.

 

“Uh… h-hey, Ell… are you okay over there?”

Elliot groaned but managed a tired smile. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t expect my morning shift to feel like a public meltdown at a movie premiere.”

Cody chuckled nervously, brushing invisible crumbs off the counter. “Y-you handled it really well. I’d probably cry and run into the freezer…”

Elliot laughed, genuine this time. The rookie’s sincerity was oddly comforting like a glass of water after a spicy disaster.

 

Ding-Dong!

 

The entrance bell chimed.

Elliot flinched like a gunshot had gone off, like a muscle memory

“Hi! Welcome to Builder Brother’s Pizzeria! What can I get for you?” he chirped automatically, voice a little too loud and a little too fake.

“Hmm, can I get a-”

“Sorry, ma’am! That employee is on break!” Cody squeaked, intercepting like a protective bodyguard. “I-I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, please step to my side!”

The customer blinked, but smiled politely. “Sure, no problem. I’ll have a pepperoni pizza and two cans of soda.”

Cody wrote the order down proudly, give it to the costumer to check before sent it to the kitchen with a satisfying ding. It was probably his smoothest transaction to date.

Elliot tilted his head. “Uh… Cody? Isn’t that my job?”

“O-oh! W-well…” Cody scratched the back of his neck, trying not to look directly at him. “I could tell you needed a break after… y’know, the press ambush... so I figured I’d handle the front for a bit!”

Elliot stared at him for a moment, then smiled warmly. “You’re too sweet for this world, rookie.”

He ruffled Cody’s hair, much to the poor boy’s horror.

“I’ll take a few deliveries then,” Elliot said, heading toward the back. “Nothing calms the nerves like riding into traffic and dodging potholes.”

“Take care, Elliot!” Cody waved, notebook in hand.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

And with that, Elliot stepped back outside, the sun a little higher in the sky now. The chaos was over, for now. But he had a job to do, a bike to ride, and pizzas to deliver.

All in a morning’s work for a pizza worker.

-

Vroom! Vroom!

-

Speeding thought the neighborhood, Elliot delivered every pizza as fast as he could, after all, no one likes a cold pizza! Hot and fresh is better!!

Elliot smile as he held the pizzas to each house

 

Ding dong!

 

“Oh my! That was fast!”

 

Ding dong!

 

“hmm I think you’re missing something…”

“Oh yay! That everything I ordered! Thank you pizza boy!!”

 

Ding dong!

 

“They need to give you a raise!”

-

-

Elliot felt ecstatic after the deliveries. He made his way back to the pizzeria, a smile planted on his face like he just won the lottery. He pushed the door open, ready to jump back into the orders and help Cody again.

But a sudden outburst shattered the mood.

“DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT I’M TRYING TO SAY?!”

A furious customer was screaming at a young cashier, Cody, who looked like he was about to burst into tears. Elliot calmly stepped in, gently nudging the boy aside.

“I got this,” he said softly.

Cody nodded in relief, his hands trembling.

Elliot turned to the customer, his signature smile never faltering. “Hi there! Welcome to Builder Brothers Pizzeria. What seems to be the issue?”

“I ordered a cheese pizza and that idiot gave me pepperoni!” the customer barked, jabbing a finger at the cashier.

“W-what?! No! You clearly ordered pepperoni!” Cody protested.

Elliot sighed. Ah, one of those customers.

“So,” he said, keeping his tone polite, “you’re saying the wrong pizza was ordered?”

“Yes! I want a refund!”

 

Gotcha.

 

“Well,” Elliot replied, still calm, “our system shows that your order was confirmed on-screen before payment, so what you got is exactly what we processed.”

The customer grumbled, threw out a few choice curse words, and stormed off.

“Woah! You solved it so easy what!” Cody clapped his hands, eyes full of admiration. Elliot smiled, patting the boy’s head.

“I’ve been working here for who knows how long! Customers like that? Old tricks!”

They both laughed, relieved they had escaped a troublesome encounter.

“See? Being a cashier ain’t that hard! Just be careful of people like him!” Elliot gave Cody a reassuring thumbs-up. Cody nodded rapidly, taking mental notes.

“Yeah! I’ll remember that!”

Phew. Another problem solved.

“Today seems to be troublesome—”

 

BOOM!

 

“Uh, Elliot? I might need a hand over here…”

Sean opened the kitchen door and hesitantly peeked outside.

“What was that??” Elliot walked toward the kitchen and immediately frowned at the scene before him.

“Oh my god… are you serious?”

Sean winced. “Well, I did try to stop them…”

In front of them was a war zone. The oven was burning, someone had put a can of soda inside. Dough, soda cans, and toppings littered the kitchen. The two chefs were still arguing, oblivious to the chaos, while another employee accidentally triggered the fire extinguisher, sending it flying across the room.

Elliot grabbed the fire extinguisher and put out the fire. Moments later, he fetched a mop and began cleaning. The chaos was endless.

“DUDE, HOW THE HELL CAN’T YOU MAKE A SIMPLE PIZZA?!”

“I’M TRYING, STOP YELLING AT ME, MAN!”

“YOU BOTH, SHUT UP!!”

Elliot mopped the floor with the desperation of a man trying to cleanse sin. The mess was divine in its scale. He snapped.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?! You’re baking pizzas like you’re trying to unlock World War 3: Chef Edition!”

Sean, sensing something cinematic, pulled out his phone and started recording.

The fire reignited. Elliot sprinted across the room like a greased penguin, fumbling with the extinguisher. He put it out again.

Then the argument continued.

“SHUT UP! SHUT THE ACTUAL HELL UP, YOU GLITCHED GREMLIN GREASE STAINS! I SWEAR TO WHATEVER PIXELATED GOD IS WATCHING, I WILL GO TO CHURCH JUST TO PRAY FOR YOUR DOWNFALLS!”

The chefs finally fell silent.

“Bro, who made you so grumpy?”

“We’re just trying to make pizza…”

Sean giggled while recording. “oh boy, they’re cooked”

Elliot raised the mop like a divine relic and stepped forward, radiating boss music energy.

“GET. OVER. THERE. AND CLEAN THIS NUCLEAR WASTE ZONE BEFORE I FILE A REPORT TO WHOEVER THE HELL INVENTED YOU!”

Terrified, the chefs obeyed.

Elliot collapsed into a chair, the weight of the day crashing down on him.

“Why are they like this…?”

“Not their first mess. We’re new,” said a girl. “I’m Samantha, call me Sam. That’s Richard and Luke. Yes, we live together. Yes, they’re losers.”

“HEY! I heard that!”

“Shut up! You caused this!”

Elliot sighed and gently lowered the mop. He needed a break.

“I’m gonna go out for a bit.”

-

The air outside was cool and calming. Elliot leaned against the wall, reflecting on the day. Reporters. Difficult customers. Near kitchen infernos. And on top of it all, the mission to save his trapped friends from a godlike entity still have no process.

He pulled out a cigarette.

“…Just one…”

He lit up, inhaled deeply, and let the smoke carry some of his stress away.

This was only his second day back.

The cigarette was his coping mechanism, his moment of quiet.

He thought about the Forsaken Realm. About the destruction caused by exploiters. About Noob and the others still trapped.

 

What would Builderman say if he saw me like this?

 

Why can’t I just be better?

 

How can I save them if I keep falling apart?

 

“Elliot! I think I need your help, please!”

Sean’s voice pulled him out of the spiral.

Elliot sighed, crushed the cigarette under his foot.

“Coming, Sean.”

-

-

As the day dragged to a close, Elliot finally wrapped up his shift. With a weary sigh, he set the rag back onto the counter, the scent of cleaning solution still clinging stubbornly to his fingertips.

“You look like shit, Ell,” Sean commented from behind the register, not even looking up from the receipts he was counting.

“Well, of course, duh," Elliot muttered, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Today felt like a frenzy. I could seriously use a bath the second I get home.”

He began packing up his belongings, though truthfully, there wasn’t much to take. A phone charger, a half-eaten granola bar, and a notebook with the corners worn down from constant flipping. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he made his way to the exit.

“Have a nice evening, Sean!” Elliot called, flashing a tired smile.

“Don’t die,” Sean replied, smile warmly.

Elliot chuckled under his breath and made a beeline for his motorbike, the thought of home pulling at him like a magnet.

The door creaked open as Elliot stepped inside his house. He flicked on the light and immediately groaned, flopping onto the couch like a puppet with its strings cut.

“God… today was terrible,” he sighed, rubbing his face. The job was exhausting, soul-sucking at times, but strangely, he didn’t hate it. He couldn’t. As much as it drained him, he couldn’t bring himself to resent the pizzeria. Something about it grounded him. It gave him purpose… or at least a distraction from everything else.

After lying there in silence, letting the ceiling fan lull his thoughts, Elliot finally peeled himself off the couch. Still soaked in the greasy scent of the kitchen, he dragged his feet to the bathroom. Grabbing a towel and fresh clothes, he slammed the door behind him.

 

Shaaaa~

 

The sound of the shower was almost heavenly. The hot water beat down on his back, washing away the grime, fatigue, and stress of the day. For a brief moment, Elliot felt like he was reborn, cleansed, renewed. Emerging from the bathroom with damp hair and a soft grin, he stretched his arms overhead.

“I feel like I just ascended,” he muttered, stepping lightly into the kitchen like he was walking on clouds.

The fridge hummed quietly as he opened it and scanned the contents. Grabbing a few essentials, he cracked eggs into a pan, letting them sizzle beside sausages. The smell wafted through the apartment, making his stomach growl. He sliced up fresh tomatoes, tore crisp lettuce leaves, and toasted the bread to a perfect golden brown, crunchy at the edges, soft in the middle.

 

Simple. But good. And made with care.

 

As he assembled the sandwich, Elliot found himself smiling, just a small one, but real. There was something satisfying about creating something for himself, no matter how small.

Taking the first bite, he nearly devoured the whole thing in one go, but managed to pace himself with a little self-control. Each mouthful was delicious, warm, savory, and comforting in the way only home food could be.

“‘Happy tummy, happy me,’ they say,” Elliot mumbled through a bite, chuckling. “That line could never be more right.”

Despite the silence of the room, and the loneliness that occasionally crept in during dinners like this, tonight’s meal gave him something more, motivation. Fuel.

He’d find a way to save his friends. And when that day came, he’d make sure they had a dinner like this- no, better. A feast. All of them, gathered around one table, laughing and eating together again.

 

He would make it real.

 

He must.

 

He would.

 

After finishing his meal and cleaning the dishes, the rhythmic splash of water against metal and the hum of his voice filled the quiet kitchen. There was peace in this mundane moment, no danger, no fear, no life and death situations.

But the clock on the wall didn’t lie. The hour was far too late, and fatigue gnawed at his limbs. Elliot stretched, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I could really use some sleep right now…”

 

A pause.

 

“…Wait. No.”

 

He clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing.

 

He had work to do.

 

Drying his hands quickly, Elliot hurried to his bedroom, where chaos reigned. Papers and notes littered the floor, the desk, the bed. The normally tidy room was now a research den, every inch of wall space covered with theories, scribbles, sketches, and post-it notes filled with desperate questions.

It was messier than even the storage room at work. But he didn’t care. Who was gonna judge? Not like he was expecting guests.

He pulled the pinboard toward him and began reading through the notes again, pencil in hand.

Some people, the Spectre seems to ignore, especially those who aren't afraid to confront the killers head-on.

 

Does that mean the Spectre avoids people who are brave?

 

Guest doesn’t show much emotion when facing the killers. The Spectre rarely pays attention to him.

 

Builderman also doesn’t fear them. Is that why the Spectre doesn’t pick him to play it’s ‘games’ much?

 

But even so... the Spectre isn’t invincible.

Right?...

 

Elliot’s eyes flicked to another note.

 

It fears some people. One in particular, Dusekkar.

 

He remembered the stories. The Spectre was so desperate to bring Dusekkar into its realm that it dragged his entire house into the Forsaken Realm while Dusekkar was sleeping.

 

Elliot’s grip on the pencil tightened.

 

Once captured, the Spectre weakened Dusekkar's power, probably out of fear. Spite, maybe.

 

Then what if…What if Dusekkar got his full powers back? Would it be enough? Could they escape? Could they even defeat the Spectre?

 

And what if, just maybe, he could get back into the Forsaken Realm… and bring something with him?

 

Builderman’s Banhammer.

 

Yeah. That might be enough firepower.

 

If he could sneak into the CEO’s office and get it.

 

That part might be even harder than fighting the Spectre itself…

 

“ARGHHH, I just can’t figure it out!!”

Elliot let out a frustrated scream, raking his hands through his hair.

This wasn’t fair. There had to be a way! There was always a way, so why couldn't he see it?!

Exhausted, mentally and physically, he finally tossed the pencil aside and collapsed onto his bed. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, heart heavy with guilt and disappointment.

 

Another night… another failure.

 

He wasn’t supposed to sit around like some helpless bystander. He wasn’t a princess waiting in a tower for someone else to fix everything.

 

He had to do more.

 

He had to be more.

 

But before he could spiral deeper into his thoughts, his body betrayed him. His eyelids dropped shut, and within moments, he was fast asleep, deep, dreamless.

 

Oh well.

 

-

 

{Goodnight, Elliot.}

Notes:

3626 words
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ok this WILL BE my last time writing this long, god, when I had done and check, I see this humongous amount of words jumped at me, my finger might just leave me at this rate oh god

Chapter 5: Out Of Supplies?!

Summary:

"Conk out" means to suddenly stop working or fail (for a machine or engine) or to fall asleep quickly (for a person). It can also mean to lose consciousness or faint.

Notes:

Watch me take 816913 days later to done make chapter 6, exams are breathing down my neck, and author also needs to grind and prepare for Azure, that 23k is NOT enough for my glorious king Azurewrath, I need it to be 102k just in case #overthinkercore

So yeah, I won't have much time to write, sorry for the inconvenience :[

anyways, author may or may not have went high and losing their mind while write this

Chapter 5: Out Of Supplies?!

It had been a while ever since Elliot escaped the Spectre’s grip, a miraculous return from the edge of that otherworldly nightmare. He was back to his ordinary life, flipping pizzas and enjoy his time working at Builder Brothers Pizzeria. Unfortunately, in terms of finding his lost friend, he had made zero progress.

Which really sucked.

But hey! He was trying.

Surely, something would turn up eventually… right?

 

Currently, Elliot was manning the front counter, taking orders while zoning in and out of his thoughts. Cody had taken the day off, his mother was sick, and the poor guy was juggling college bills with the chaotic life of a pizzeria cashier. Elliot sighed, snapping out of his mental spiral as he take another order.

Another cheese-only pizza.

Seriously? That was like the seventh cheese-only order today.
“Is it National Cheese Pizza Day or something?” Elliot muttered to himself.

With a practiced motion, he clicked to send the order to the kitchen
But nothing happened.
He clicked again.
Still nothing.

Wait… what?

The screen blinked, then flashed a warning: Order queue overloaded.

“What the…” Elliot frowned, clicking repeatedly. The screen refused to obey.

Did Luke and Richard mess up something down there again?
Before he could swear under his breath, a customer leaned over the counter.

“Uhh, sir? Is something wrong?” the guy asked, peeking over with wide, curious eyes.

Elliot jolted slightly but quickly masked his concern with a tight, professional smile.

“Oh! Uh, nothing! Just some... end-of-day maintenance. We’re actually closing up early today! Would you like to place your order before we shut down, sir?”

The customer blinked. “Oh, well... hmm. A cheese-only pizza, please!”

“Of course. Please check the screen to confirm your order.”
“Yup, looks good.”
“Alright! Thank you for ordering at Builder Brothers! Come again soon!”

Elliot gave a wave that looked more like a frantic shoo and bolted through the kitchen doors like a man on fire.

SLAM.

The kitchen door swung open hard enough to rattle the spice rack. Elliot stormed in, fully expecting a disaster, because let’s face it, every shift felt like defusing a pizza-shaped bomb. He braced himself for whatever chaos the two ‘chef’ had cooked up this time.

“All right, what happened now? Why can’t the orders be sent to the kitchen?” Elliot asked, raising an eyebrow.

Then he saw it.

Oh.
Oh. God.

“Okay, so, uh… we might have a little problem,” Luke said awkwardly, pointing to the prep station.

The toppings bowls were empty. Completely. Utterly.
No pepperoni. No cheese. Not even a single drop of tomato sauce.

“And there’s no more dough,” Samantha added with a shrug, her expression deadpan. “We ran out, like, half an hour ago.”

Elliot stared at them, rubbing his temples as if he could physically massage the stress out of his skull. “Wait, don’t tell me... the pizzeria has no supplier?”

“Nope,” Sean said with a sigh. “Cody’s our only cashier. Samantha, Luke, and Richard handle cooking. I do boxing the pizzas and some kitchen stuff. That’s the whole crew.”

“Wow. Understaffing at its finest,” Richard muttered, giving a low whistle.

“Fine,” Elliot snapped. “Everyone, come on. We’re closing early, and we’re making a supply run. The more people, the faster we can stock up and reopen.”

He started grabbing keys and motioning toward the back door. “Sean, with me. Samantha, grab Luke and Richard. And someone please make sure we don’t leave the oven on this time!”

As they all scrambled to follow, Elliot stopped, turning to the group again with a look of disbelief. “Also, why didn’t anyone tell me we were this low on supplies?”

“I mean, I thought we had a supplier,” Richard said, scratching his head. “I saw one… like… a month ago?”

Elliot mentally slapped himself. A whole month?

Within minutes, he had everyone packed into the company car, a red, looking old car that smelled like pizza and stress sweats from deliveries, and was speeding down the road toward the Pizza Place Depot, a warehouse that looked like a Costco for crust and cheese.

“Ell, let me drive!” Richard pleaded from the back seat.

“Sam, is he even licensed? He keep asking to drive for the past 8 minutes” Elliot asked over his shoulder, eyes narrowed.

“I mean,” Samantha hesitated, “he’s good at Mario Kart.”

Richard smirked. “Yeah! It’s practically the same thing! Gas, brake, banana peel!”

Everyone in the car paused.

“…Elliot, I don’t trust him with the car,” Sean said flatly.

“Aw man.” Richard slumped with a pout.

Elliot sighed as he pressed harder on the gas, speeding to the depot as he doesn’t want to hear another whining sess from Richard

-

-

Upon arriving at the loading area, everyone got straight to work.

Elliot, as usual, could handle just about every job thrown in his way, but being the supplier? That was one role he dreaded. The delivery truck was sluggish, and with his luck, he’d drop half the cargo before even reaching the destination. Honestly, no one liked the supplier role. Too many boxes, too much back pain, not enough glory.

But this time… he wasn’t alone. He had them.

Well. His... friends? He supposed they were. They’d grown close over the past few weeks. It was hard not to when every shift felt like surviving a battlefield together. They joked, bickered, laughed like idiots. Somewhere in the blur of chaos, they started to feel like family. The thought made Elliot chuckle quietly to himself.

Right, family.

He missed his dad. And Mia.

He should visit them this weekend.

His thoughts drifted, as they often did lately,

 

How’s everyone in the Forsaken Realm doing?

 

“STOP CLICKING THE BUTTONS, WE HAVE ENOUGH-!”

“MORE BOXES!!”

Two voices shattered his inner monologue and also his eardrums. Elliot spun around and immediately froze, jaw dropped.

In the span of sixty seconds, all hell had broken loose.

Luke was jumping on the supply machine’s buttons like a madman, spawning boxes by the dozen. Richard and Sean, unhinged and gleeful, stacked them into what could only be described as a health hazard.

“I looked away for one minute?!” Elliot’s voice cracked.

“I’m gonna build a castle!” Luke declared, yeeting a box toward Sean with such speed it knocked him clean into Richard.

“HEY! YOU DID ME DIRTY!” Sean cackled, now half-sprawled over Richard as they both laughed like 6-year-olds who had just discovered sugar.

Then, in perfect comedic timing, both slowly turned their heads to the grinning culprit.

Luke froze.

Two boxes aimed at his head.

“YOU ARE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THAT!”

“JESUS, I’M SORRY!!!”

Boxes flew like dodgeballs in a middle school gym class. Meanwhile, Samantha and Elliot tried, futilely, to load the truck.

Samantha sighed deeply. “I’m never gonna see them as adults. Ever. They’re like toddlers.”

“Hah! More like ten year olds,” Elliot replied.

“Pfft, what’s the difference?”

They both laughed, genuine and warm. As chaotic as the others were, their presence made everything feel…lighter. Easier. Not so awkward. Not so lonely.

Being a supplier didn’t seem so bad this time.

Maybe, just maybe, there was more to love about this job than just the customers’ smiles-

BONK!

A box landed square on Elliot’s head.

He paused, slowly picked it up, turned with a deadpan expression.

Oh. They wanted war?

They’d get one.

“Game on.” Elliot smirked. He hurled the box at Sean, who dodged, making it smack Richard square in the face instead.

“WHY am I always the one getting hit because of Sean?!”

“AY, it’s your fault for not dodging!” Sean howled, right before another box nailed him in the face.

“Oh you’re so done!!”

“Skill issue.”

“Bitch.”

“Shit-for-brains.”

“Noodle ahh build.”

“Oversized clown.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Walking Wi-Fi signal with no connection.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“znwij1io9maa919%&@)!”

“^@(&!(SJQIH(U!UJJIUHUYNNWIiwnii38263481@&%!”

While the insults evolved into actual nonsense, Elliot quietly stacked two boxes on his head and crept closer like a cartoon character.

“You guys seem to be having a real funsies moment without me, huh?” He hurled the boxes with terrifying precision. One hit Sean, who gawked.

“Seriously, Elliot?! How do you even aim that well?!”

Another box smacked Sean again, from behind.

“Surprise, bitch!” Richard grinned devilishly.

The warehouse devolved into a three-way box war. Laughter, shouting, flailing, no one was safe. Samantha stood to the side, arms crossed, expression unimpressed but eyes amused.

“They’re gonna break their skulls,” she muttered, watching one of the boxes bounce off a stack and narrowly miss Luke’s head. “Whatever. We’re not on a time crunch.”

Then a shadow fell over the group.

Elliot blinked, slowly turned, and so did Sean and Richard.

Towering above them stood Luke, atop a ridiculous mountain of boxes, cape made from discarded packaging fluttering (somehow?) in the breeze.

“Ah, greetings, humble servants of the lowest order. Thou art but mere specks in the grand tapestry of existence. Pray, how fares thee, O peasants of the realm?”

Elliot whispered, “Why is he speaking like a medieval bard…?”

Richard whisper-yelled back, “That’s his thing! I don’t know why!”

“You’ve known him longer than we have!”

“Shut up!”

“Hey, we can still make amends-?” turn back to Luke, Richard smile nervously.

Too late.

Luke kicked the tower.

Boxes rained down like divine judgment.

“NUKE BOMB!!!” Sean screeched, right before being swallowed by cardboards.

-

“Open your eyes, idiot.”

Sean blinked and found himself didn’t get crushed by the boxes. Elliot had shielded both him and Richard, dragging them to safety in record time.

“Dude,” Richard said, wide-eyed. “How are you this strong?! I mean- I knew you has muscles but how…” Like Sean is a fatass anyways-

 “…I feel like a pretty princess…” Sean mumbled, face blank with shock.

THUD.

Elliot dropped them both unceremoniously to the floor.

“Rude,” Richard muttered, rubbing his butt.

Samantha, on the verge of a stroke, was yelling at Luke.

“LUKE. THOSE BOXES. ARE NOT. MADE OF COTTON, YOU DUMBASS!!”

Samantha pointed at the guy, she swears her vein might pop at any moment. These guys have the survival instinct level of a fucking hamsters she swears!

Her eye twitched. How did I end up befriending actual buffoons? she wondered. Is this why women live longer than men?!

Meanwhile, Sean nudged Elliot. “Dude. Did you start do lifting or something? You threw those boxes like a sniper bot and carried us like we were bags of flour.”

Elliot shrugged. “Maybe I’ve been practicing?”

Sure. Practicing by surviving death matches, courtesy of the Spectre. Great training. Five stars. Would not recommend.

He remembered how bad his aim used to be. Back when he couldn’t throw a pizza to save anyone, he does felt like a clown a few time actually.

He remembers when Guest trusted him and he ended up fuck it up by throw the damn pizza into a corner, causing the soldier unable to pick it and ended with John Doe brutally stabbed Guest through his chest

 

Or when Noob blindly eat any pizzas they sees in sight since they didn’t want to make Elliot feel bad. Noob died on one round because they tried to eat the pizza that Elliot thrown too far away, All because Elliot couldn’t throw harder, if he used more force in throwing that pizza, Noob would’ve reached it

 

Then there’s one time he supposed to throw the pizza at Shedletsky, the pizza is for survivors, There’s 1x1x1x1 BEHIND him and Shedletsky right in front of his face, It should be an easy throw, it must be an easy heal-

Elliot throw the damn thing straight to 1x1x1x1’s face...

He’d been useless.

But not anymore.

Or is he still useless-

“Hey! Earth to Elliot! Quit zoning out!” Samantha yelled.

“R-right,” he muttered, snapping back to the present. He began loading the last few boxes. They weren’t even heavy anymore.

Back then… No. Stop. No more dragging the past into this.

-

“Yo! That’s enough, Ell! We should get going!”

He flopped into the driver’s seat with a groan. Rest, at last-

“Hey! Can I drive?~”

“HOLY MOTHER-” Luke’s face popped in through the window like a horror movie jumpscare. Elliot’s reflexes landed a clean slap.

“Geez! So being nice also offended people nowhere days?”-the guy hiss, Elliot finally realize what he has done, god he messed up again

Elliot sighed. “Sorry, man. You startled me.”

No worries! Fret not! It is I, Luke Mitchell! Will help his dear friend by drive the truck!” he smile confidently

“…Sure. Whatever. I need a break.” Elliot switch to the passenger seat.

Samantha and Richard already make their way back to the pizzeria, Sean probably done drive their car back to the parking place ages ago

What could go wrong?

As it turned out, everything.

“Yeah yeah, now!...watch”-and GOD Elliot regret his decision, this fucker next to him is crazy.

The moment Luke grabbed the wheel, the truck peeled out like it was in a Fast & Furious remake. Luke even crash a few mailboxes went flying. A letter slapped onto Elliot’s face. Is this why Luke and Richard are friends?! Boy he wishes Samantha is here, girly would’ve solve this in a few seconds

“I KNEW IT! This is Mario Kart in REAL LIFE!” Luke screamed gleefully.

“LUKE, YOU SON OF A BITCH, I’M NEVER LETTING YOU DRIVE AGAIN!!”

Oh wow, such peaceful and totally not loud scream coming from the truck!

It was then Elliot realize, he has befriended a fucking demon who obsessed with Mario Kart like his friend and can’t cook for life.

“I HOPE YOU STUBBED YOUR TOES MITCHELL!!!”

Screamed the poor pizza boy, echoed through the neighborhood

Somewhere behind the chaos, an old man watering his garden paused to watch the truck drift around a corner.

“My, kids these days sure have energy.”

His wife giggled beside him. “Reminds me of you in college.”

“Oh hush now!”

“Hahahahaha!”

-

-

-

Stepping out of the truck, Luke beamed as he walked over to pull down the lever, unloading all the boxes. He watched as the supplies refilled, finally, enough for those hundreds of cheese-only pizzas.

“Man! This is the best thing to happen today! Can you believe it?” Luke called out to Elliot, who plopped out of the truck like a balloon losing air.

“I don’t get paid enough for this…” Elliot muttered, face pale. That ride had heart attack activator written all over it.

“I might just go to church every day and pray for your downfall…”

“Aww ☹.”

Sean stepped out from the back door of the pizzeria, arms crossed and smiling.
“Have fun?”

“Fuck no.”

“Come on, we need help, orders are stacked up like mountains in the kitchen. Sam and Richard are drowning in there.” He pointed toward the door and began dragging them both inside.

“The day’s not even over, and I already feel like I’ve been steamrolled…” Elliot groaned.

“Stop complaining, Ell. Blame the eternal understaffing. This place has never had enough people. And somehow it still runs. Seriously, how do you and Sean stand this crap for so long?!” Luke huffed.

The pizzeria had always been a pressure. The moment Luke started working there, he felt it. But what choice did he have? Rent wasn’t gonna pay itself, and this place paid more than most. Who was he to say no?

-

Back in the kitchen, it was war.

Dough flew. Tomato sauce splattered. Cheese littered the floor like confetti after a parade. The familiar smell of pizza clung to everything, warm, greasy, comforting. It made Elliot feel sick.

He hated how much he missed it.

“Open the oven, Richard! I think that pizza’s ready!”

“God, how many cheese-only pizzas are we making?! That’s all we’ve baked for hours!”

“Dunno, is today like... Cheese Day or something?”

“Eh, don’t think so. There’s no such thing-”

“Actually! World Cheese Day is celebrated every March 27th where-”

“Shut it, Sean!”

“Fuck you all!!”

And just like that, the kitchen was loud again. Messy. Familiar.

Comforting.

Elliot smiled faintly. It reminded him of home.

His home. The one in the Forsaken.

I wonder what they're up to now... Are they safe? Still laughing at dumb jokes? God, I hope they haven’t forgotten me.

Maybe they think about me too. Or maybe they’ve moved on. Who could blame them?

I should’ve done more. Said more before I somehow escaped hell. But it’s too late now, isn’t it?

He chuckled softly and kept making pizzas, hands moving on autopilot as they worked through the towering backlog of orders.

“OH MY GOD! Finally! A pepperoni pizza! NO MORE CHEESE-ONLY!” Luke screamed with genuine joy.

“Jesus, I can finally put the other toppings to use…” Samantha whispered, exhausted. If happiness was cheese, then God must’ve made her allergic.

“Yo Ell, might be time for you to do the deliveries,” Sean called, re-entering the kitchen after boxing a few more pizzas. “The orders probably built their own kingdom by now.”

Elliot nodded, fixed his hair, and headed toward the delivery station.

Back in the kitchen, Richard tilted his head.
“Ever wonder how that guy handles literally every job here?”

Samantha shrugged. “Eh. Probably got that magic pizza powder or something.”

“What color is a mirror?”

“…what?”

“Why’s it called a building if it’s already built?”

“…Luke seriously?”

“Do fish know they’re in water?”

“Luke-”

“If you try to fail and succeed, which one did you do?”

“Shut up, Luke,” Richard groaned, rubbing his temples. “Even the pizza looks sad hearing those questions.”

Luke just patted Richard on the back like a proud father.
Samantha facepalmed.

Sean stood there, dead inside. “I’m going back to the boxing room… and think about what I just heard.”
He looked like he’d just eaten the last dandelion of the season.

-

-

-

Elliot came back from delivery about an hour later. The orders had piled up so badly, he had to apologize to a few customers. Stepping into the delivery station, he figured he should check on Sean.

That was the worst decision he could’ve made.

Sean was slumped against the wall like a deflated balloon, and Richard sat beside him, drained of all life. They looked like they had just returned from a war.

“Sean? What’s going-  you know what, forget it.” Elliot lightly stomp his foot to the floor. “What did you all do this time?”

Sean whispered weakly, “Luke… kept asking questions. Just... questions. All because the guy got bored. Samantha’s still in the kitchen... enduring the torture.”

Elliot raised an eyebrow. What kind of questions could make two grown men look like rotting bananas?
He made up his mind. He turned and walked to the kitchen.

Surely it’ll be fine, he thought. How bad could it be? One or two questions? I’ve handled worse.

Ha. Wrong again, Elliot.

“If we evolved from monkeys, why are there still monkeys?”

“…”

“Can you daydream at night?”

“…”

“Why do noses run and feet smell?”

“…”

“If a word is misspelled in the dictionary… how would we ever know?”

Samantha, who had been silently watch the pizzas in the oven with the dead eyes of a soldier, noticed Elliot’s presence. She turned to him slowly, her smile brittle and pained.

“This is not for the weak…” she whispered.

Elliot paused. Then, slowly, silently, he closed the door. He clapped his hands together.

“Your sacrifice will forever be remembered… Samantha Vaughan.”

Wiping a single tear from his cheek, Elliot shuffled back and sat down between Sean and Richard. He squeezed into the corner like a traumatized dog.

“I told you so,” Sean said with a tired smile. Another victim claimed by the beast.

“What a woman,” Richard whispered solemnly. “We’ll forever cherish the time we spent with her.”

-

-

-

The day finally wound down. Elliot packed his things, offered a tired wave and a crooked smile to the others, and stepped out into the night.

His motorbike growled to life beneath him, a familiar purr that made his chest ache, not with pain, but with something quieter. Something softer. The wind brushed past his face as he rode, and the world around him blurred into colors of warm gold and sleepy orange. The sun was bleeding into the horizon, sky aglow like a half-forgotten painting.

He tilted his head slightly, letting the breeze slip past his cheeks.

Maybe I’ll invite everyone to see this one day… when I can save them.

His mind drifted.

He laughed, quietly.

Elliot parked his motorbike, trudged inside, and threw his body across the sofa like a collapsed scarecrow. A groan escaped him, long, dramatic, and utterly defeated.

His body had been screaming for hours. Muscles sore. Back aching. Every joint felt like it belonged to someone else.

And who didn’t listen?

Good job little Timmy! It’s Elliot himself!

He stared at the ceiling.

What kind of idiot is he, he didn’t even notice his own health failing until he physically melt into furniture?

He let out a dry chuckle, more wheeze than laugh.

No dinner. No shower. No will to even light a cigarette.

He closed his eyes, and the world began to dim, warmth wrapping around his limbs like a lullaby.

Darkness crept in. Whispering. Comforting.

…

Wait. No!

He slapped his cheek, eyes flying open.

“The plan. You fool, you’ve got a plan, remember?!”

Dragging himself like a half-dead soldier through a warzone, Elliot made it to his desk.

He sat down. Cracked his knuckles. Rolled his shoulders.

Let’s do this.

Stay awake. Make progress in trying to save everyone in the Forsaken Realm.

He sat at his desk, grabbed his notes, and began sketching out ideas.

But now that the adrenaline is gone…

His head bobbed forward.

This was ridiculous. He was Elliot-Employee of the Month.

And Employee of the Month does not…

...fall asleep.

He jolted again.

Pinched his cheek. Refocused.

Must. Stay. Awake.

This was possibly the hardest thing he’d ever done.

He tried holding his eyelids open with two fingers, one hand doing the job of both, the other trying to write. But it was impossible. His left eye would drift shut. Then the right. Then both. Not to mention the notes have increasingly made less and less sense.

“Spectre maybe allergic to hugs???”

Eventually, He started gnawing on his knuckles. Not enough to bleed, but enough to hurt.

He focused again.

Think. Just think.

 

Does Spectre have rules? Origins? Weaknesses?

If it were that powerful, wouldn’t the entire Robloxia be swallowed up already?

Maybe it’s selective.

 

Maybe… it feeds on trauma.

Maybe healing breaks its grip. Maybe it needs pain like oxygen.

 

What if… the key to defeating it isn’t strength, or spells, or weapons… but healing itself?

 

Elliot blinked at the page, the words swimming before his eyes.

 

Yeah no shit, Sherlock. That’s not exactly something you can weaponize like garlic against vampires.

 

But he wasn’t wrong.

 

What if I can’t destroy Spectre… but I can destroy its reason to exist?

 

Stillness returned. The questions began to spiral.

 

Who am I if I don’t save them? What if I can’t fix it?

 

What if I fail again?

 

What if I’m too late?

 

He stared at the page.

And slowly…

Softly…

He leaned forward until his cheek rested against the paper. Ink smudged against his skin, as the final defense of his mind fell to slumber.

His breathing slowed.

The desk lamp flickered once, then held steady.

And above him, the moon hung silently in the sky, watching.

It could do nothing but shine.

No magic. No miracles. Just its soft silver glow and quiet winds brushing through the curtains.

It had seen this before.

The cycle of hope and exhaustion.

It watched Elliot sleep.

It would be a long journey.

But it had faith.

Faith that one day, the boy below would reach

his goal

Help his friends escape

 

-[Rest well, Elliot]-

Notes:

3987 words
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okay, I did promise to myself that I'll write less, but uh. uhm...oops? :,D

Also, should I make chapter 6 serious or nah? Like I have two draft for chap 6, one is serious the other is shitty comedy, so which?...pls help, I sucks making choices

Chapter 6: Stepping Forward

Summary:

'modify' means to make small, deliberate changes, often to enhance something, tailor it to specific requirements, or make it more appropriate or effective.

Notes:

hi guys, I've finally escape an abusive relationship *sniff* e-exam! It hurts me so much...b-b-but I've escape! *ugly sob*
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!!WARNING!!: this chapter might include:
-Graphic Violence / Gore
-Character Death (Temporary)
If you find these uncomfortable, please stop proceed on this chapter, you have been warned
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ok I did put warnings on my fic title but I'll add another just to be sure

Chapter 6: Stepping Forward

5/90 HP left.

Hah…

  Hah…

    Hah…

 

Builderman slumped against the cold, cracked wall, each breath a labored rasp clawing at his lungs. He'd finally broken away from him—C00lkidd. But the kid had done a number on him. The helmet helped—kept his skull from becoming paste under the sheer weight of C00l’s… what did he call it? “Corrupted Nature?” Whatever that even meant. The only thing that mattered now was that he was alive. Barely.

He lowered his gaze to inspect the damage. Deep bruises stained his torso like ink blots. Ribs cracked, some probably shattered. Not clean wounds either. Unlike the other killers, C00lkidd didn’t use fancy weapons or magic. No theatrics. He just… punched. And those punches were monstrous. Blunt trauma. Internal bleeding. Some fractures felt compound, there was a sickening squish every time he inhaled too sharply. He was no medic, but he knew the signs of a localized infection creeping in, just around one of the deeper cuts. But it didn’t matter. Not now.

Before he could rest, a familiar, almost deranged voice sliced through the haze.

"GREETINGS! May the Spawn bless your marrow and whisper secrets into your dreams! Have you felt Its gaze today? Oh, you will… you will!"

Builderman flinched as Two Time materialized out of nowhere—respawned again, of course. This time, a pair of wings grown out from their back like an ancient angel's mockery. Probably did some bizarre ritual near here at the start of the match. They always did. Builderman figured they'd stick around for a while, Two Time was always in a fragile state right after respawn. Easy pickings. It was just him and this raving cultist now.

“Hello, Two…” Builderman murmured, voice dry, almost apathetic.

Two Time grinned wide, too wide. Their eyes, always gleaming with unhinged devotion, sparkled now like they knew something terrible you didn’t. Builderman found it hard to be around them for long. No one ever really liked Two Time. They were… unsettling. Obsessed with their so-called deity, The Spawn. Every sentence they uttered carried that name like a gospel curse.

“You seem hurt, but fret not! The Almighty Spawn watches over you, just as I do! Oh yes, the Spawn cradled me in death and spat me back new! Hail the Spawn! Soon, so very soon, Its blessing shall ooze into you too! Come, let us kneel… let us worship! WORSHIP THE SPAWN!”

Their smile widened into something almost inhuman. Builderman stayed silent. He didn’t understand what kind of twisted programming- no, brainwashing, could make someone this far gone. He wasn’t even sure if Two Time had ever been sane. Maybe they were raised in this cult, maybe they made it. Either way, their unwavering faith in an invisible, possibly non-existent entity was as terrifying as it was sad.

Builderman began pushing himself upright. Each movement dragged barbed wire through his ribs, but he couldn’t stay here. Not with C00lkidd out there. Not with Two Time rambling beside him.

He gripped his hammer tight, about to deploy a dispenser-

“I require a dispenser to be placed h-”

“T- DUCK DOWN!”

 

SMASH!

 

A projectile screamed through the air and slammed into Two Time mid-sentence. Builderman dove just in time. The cultist, however, wasn't so lucky.

Time seemed to freeze. The liquid that landed on Builderman’s face was warm, too warm. Soapy. Slick. A sickly-sweet stench of iron filled his nostrils. Then, the horror unfolded.

Teeth burst from Two Time’s mouth like popcorn. Their skull cracked with a sound like a melon dropped from a rooftop. Grey matter splattered across the floor. The wings twitched once, twice, and then lay still.

Two Time’s body hit the floor with a wet thud, crimson pouring in a slow, steady stream.

No matter how many times Builderman had seen death…

 

he never got used to it.

 

Above the chaos, a voice rang out.

“Another down! Now there’s one more left!!”

C00lkidd’s silhouette flickered into view, approaching fast, skipping almost playfully, like a child on a playground. His speed was inhuman. Builderman’s heart lurched.

It was a game to him.

 

A sick, twisted game of tag.

 

There was something cruel in how innocent he looked while doing it. Like this was fun. Like this was normal.

Builderman never knew C00lkidd before Forsaken. But he remembered what 007n7 had said: "He was a sweet boy. My sunshine. My everything." Builderman didn’t know what 007n7 would think if he saw his son now, laughing, killing, drenched in blood like it was just part of playtime.

He didn't know how much longer he could last. But he had to run. No other choice.

Every ounce of strength he’d saved, every cell in his ruined body screamed at him to move. He bolted, but C00lkidd was right behind him, laughing, taunting, joyful.

“I’m it, I’m it, I’M IT!”

 

And then came the blade.

 

A flash of steel. Fire.

 

It plunged through Builderman’s neck, clean and precise. The heat licked his nerves. The pain burned bright and then dulled as the sword twisted.

His vision blurred.

The sky above the Glass House looked down at him with black, uncaring eyes. The lanterns flickered, barely alive. Just like him.

C00lkidd danced in victory, laughing like a winner on a stage.

The last thing Builderman saw was the boy’s innocent smile, drenched in blood

and then, darkness.

-

[No one survived! Survivors lose!]

 

A sharp inhale.

A groan.

Builderman opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the dim light of the respawn chamber. His entire body still ached, even though he was technically "restored." Phantom pains clung to his nerves—echoes of what just happened in the Forsaken. His head throbbed. His mouth was dry.

“------- ----- -- -----, --- ---- - --- -- -----? (Looking beaten up, Build. You want a cup of water?)”

Builderman turned and saw Taph, sitting comfortably on the sofa beside him, right next to that strange, broken robot-thing, the one that looked like someone gave up halfway through building it out of cardboard and duct tape.

“Y-yeah… Thanks, Taph.”

Taph nodded once, stood, and left the room with those stiff, precise steps he always made. Builderman leaned back, exhaling shakily. He hadn’t even processed what happened to Two Time yet. Or the others.

Taph returned moments later, offering a cold plastic cup.

Builderman downed the water in one go. It hit just right, cold, clean, grounding. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and started to look around.

“…By the way, where is everyone?”

Usually, the main cabin lobby was packed. He could always count on someone loitering around, laughing, arguing, or just vibing with awful music. But now… empty. Not even the sound of footsteps.

Taph raised his hands and began signing rapidly.

“-- ----, --- ------ ---- --- ---- --- ---- -- ---- ---- --- -- ---------- ---- ------, --- - ------ --- --- -- - ------- ------ --- ----- ---- ------------ --------- ---- --------- - ----------- ----- ----------- -------- - ---- ------ ---- - -- ------ - -------- ----- (Oh yeah, the others said you took too long so Guest and Dusekkar went out to investigate some stuff, Chance invited Noob and Shedletsky to tag along, Two Time went to their room saying they needed to do their daily praying session, and I don’t know where 007n7 is. I decided to stay so I could inform you about all of this.)”

Builderman adjusted his hat and slowly pushed himself up from the sofa with a grunt.

“Well. No point standin’ around like a test dummy. Let’s go see where Guest and Duse wandered off to, yeah?”

Taph gave him a thumbs-up and followed as they exited the room.

Once outside, Builderman squinted in the darkness. The surrounding cabins were all quiet. Taph gestured toward a smaller side cabin not far away.

“Oh yeah?” Builderman asked, glancing that way. “They’re hangin’ in there?”

Taph nodded.

Builderman rolled his shoulder, still sore but walking now with more confidence.

“Alright. C’mon, let’s go Taph.”

And together, the two made their way toward the small cabin

-

-

The forest air grew colder with every step, the surrounding trees whispering with wind that carried a static hum. The path twisted unnaturally, like the terrain itself resisted their presence. A low mist coiled at their feet, slithering like it knew something they didn’t.

Inside, a voice cut through the wooden walls like a blade.

“So you’re saying… you guys suspect Elliot somehow no-clipped out of this realm? And the anomaly is marked on the map as something called ‘Planet Voss’?”
The voice was sharp, skeptical, and unmistakably familiar. “I find it hard to believe that a being as high-level as Spectre could just... make a mistake. I don’t think Elliot just glitched and, boom, escaped.”

The words spilled from inside the cabin, wrapped in low candlelight and static air. It was Detective Iris. Spectre labeled her as just another ‘NPC’. Builderman often found himself relieved that she had never been thrown into one of Spectre’s matches. The fewer who suffered, the better.

He pushed the creaky door open, letting in a cold gust of wind. The scent of old paper and melted wax greeted him like ghosts clinging to the room’s bones. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. The cabin was darker than their main lodge, lit only by a few flickering candles and a single rusted lantern swaying near the rafters.

Inside, Dusekkar and Guest stood close to Iris, hunched over scattered papers that littered an old wooden table. The parchment looked like it had been handled too many times, creased, smudged, some edges torn. The silence was taut, as if the shadows themselves were eavesdropping.

Guest’s arms were folded tightly across his chest, the muscles in his jaw clenched.

“Yeah… the kid didn’t respawn after the match ended,” Guest muttered, his voice low, taut like wire. “We don’t know where he went. No hints. No words nor anything behind. Just gone.”

He paused, exhaling hard through his nose. Guest knows Elliot’s a tough one. He gestured at the scattered documents. “This wasn’t normal. One second he was there… next second, he was nothing. No signs. No warning. No time to react. How can he not worry?

Builderman stepped inside fully, earning side glances from the others. He gently guided Taph in behind him. The atmosphere in the cabin had curdled, thick with tension and stale fear.

The admin cleared his throat lightly, trying to ease the oppressive air.

““just keep going” he said. “we’re also here to investigate about Elliot suddenly disappearance…”

Iris didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes flicked up from her notes, scanning Builderman. The candlelight danced against her expressionless face, making it hard to read.

Detective Iris gave a brief nod. She set the scattered papers down onto the dusty nightstand, grabbed her notebook, and turned her sharp attention back to the group. Tapping her pen thoughtfully, she gave them a measured glance.

“Did he say anything unusual? Seem… different lately?”

“No, he was just… being himself? I mean, nothing weird. If anything, he was acting completely normal before he disappeared.”

“Was there anything in his life that seemed stressful? Out of the ordinary?”

“Well… the matches are stressful, sure, but that’s just everyday life for us now” Builderman said, crossing his arms. “He was still positive. Happy. Like always.”

“Hmm… okay. Is there anyone you suspect might be involved?”

“Thee claim the Spectre stalks the night, it stole our friend and veiled the light” Dusekkar murmured, breaking his silence with a bitter cadence. Iris nodded slowly, jotting his words down.

“Tell me about Spectre. What kind of relationship did it have with Elliot?”

“Not gonna lie” Builderman said, sighing. “Spectre mostly just watched Elliot for the laughs, same as it does with all of us. It doesn’t care. Never has”

“If Spectre wanted to make someone disappear… could it?”

“W-well… yeah, I guess it could, but why would it?” Guest asked. His voice cracked slightly. “Elliot never did anything to tick it off, at least not that we know of…”

“Are you protecting Spectre?” Iris asked suddenly, eyes narrowing. “You’re all being awfully vague.”

“What? No? Why would you even think that, Iris?”

“…Fine.” She returned to her notes, but her gaze never truly left them.

The room grew heavier by the second. Iris began pacing slowly in front of the group, her tired but alert eyes flicking between faces like a hawk circling prey. When she finally spoke, her voice had grown colder.

“So. Elliot’s gone. And the one name that keeps coming up is Spectre, and yet, no one knows anything. How convenient.”

“Spectre’s a god-tier being,” Builderman said firmly. “Elliot didn’t have a close connection with it. None of us do. That’s not new.”

“Exactly. And somehow, it’s involved in his disappearance. You all know how unpredictable Spectre is. You just don’t want to admit it.”

Silence gripped the room like frost. The walls seemed to press inward, and no one dared speak.

“Spectre isn’t weak. It’s dangerous. And now Elliot’s gone. That doesn’t bother any of you?” Iris continued, her voice rising with restrained frustration. She set her notebook down and squared her shoulders, eyes burning into the group.

“A storm within, a constant fuss. The heart grows weary, torn, and bruised.
In every whisper, we're bemused, the weight of it, we feel it deep. A restless ache that stirs from sleep. It tugs, it pulls, it stirs the soul, a fire unquenched, yet out of control.”

Dusekkar’s voice trembled slightly under the poetic rhythm, his grip tightening on his staff. He didn’t like this. They came here for help, not to be treated like suspects.

“Then why didn’t you speak sooner?”

Iris didn’t wait for a response. With a slam, she threw her notebook onto the table.

“Here’s what I see: a group of suspects who either screwed up, or are hiding something. Which is it?”

She scanned each of them with a fierce glare, her calm voice now on the edge of cracking. Seeing the situation spiral, Builderman stepped forward and reached out, laying a hand firmly on her shoulder.

“Nah. You don’t get it. We’re not with Spectre. It’s been screwin’ with us, too. How are we supposed to protect something like that?”

Iris immediately shoved his hand away and stepped back, glaring at him like he’d just tried to strike her.

“But I know someone’s lying. Maybe it’s you, Builderman. You always play the calm and collected guy. Maybe you thought you could handle Spectre. Maybe you pushed Elliot right into its path.”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to steer him anywhere, okay? Look, how about we stop yelling and talk this through instead of tearing each other apart?”

“Yeah. Real helpful,” Iris sneered. “Let’s just trust the guy who might’ve led our friend to a psycho god-creature. What a plan.”

The tension spiked. Everyone went rigid. Iris kept pacing, the weight in the room never lifting.

“I get it. You’re friends. You’re scared. You think sticking together keeps you safe. But the more you keep your mouths shut, the more it looks like you're protecting someone.”

“With all due respect,” Guest said, his voice tight, “we had nothing to do with this. None of us were involved.”

“Then why,” Iris demanded, her voice dangerously quiet, “does everyone keep dancing around Spectre’s name like it’s cursed?”

Silence.

She rubbed her temple. This wasn’t working. None of it made sense anymore.

“Was Elliot afraid of Spectre?”

A pause. Then, in the corner, a faint movement. Taph, curled into himself like a frightened animal, hand-signed a hesitant response:

“--------… (...Sometimes.)”

“No,” Builderman added gently. “Maybe a little. But he stood tall when the name got lit.”

Iris sighed, the fire behind her eyes dimming for a moment.

“Fine. We’re done here. We’re not getting anywhere.”

She waved them out with a groan, kicked the door open, and slammed it shut once they were outside.

Guest let out a breath he’d been holding. He helped Dusekkar to his feet while Taph dusted off his clothes. Builderman stood awkwardly, rubbing his arm where Iris had shoved him.

“Well… looks like we came up empty.” Guest muttered, tone bitter. “Sorry, everyone. Not only did we get nowhere, we managed to tick her off. Fantastic.”

“It’s fine, really,” Dusekkar murmured, looking out toward the fog-covered forest.
“The past still burns, but not enough to make me turn. There’s more than ghosts in what we’ve lost, more than fear, and more than cost. So come, no need to speak or cry.”

“Appreciate it, Duse.” Builderman said, sighing. “Let’s just head back. Doesn’t seem like any other NPC in this realm can help us find Elliot.”

-

-

-

Back at the main cabin, the group drifted apart. Everyone needed space, something to do, anything to keep their minds busy before the next match.

Guest headed upstairs, probably to crash on the bean chair and clear his head. Dusekkar wandered off, disappearing into his own cabin without a word. Meanwhile, Builderman slumped onto the sofa, Taph quietly taking the spot beside him.

"I don’t get it, Taph..." Builderman muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Everything’s just a mess right now. Did Spectre do something to Elliot? Or did he break out on his own? I-I dunno anymore..."

Taph nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.

"So what’re we even supposed to do right now?" Builderman continued. "Dig into Spectre? Some god-level being we’ve got zero chance of understanding? Or chase down this supposed ‘bug’ on Planet Voss we’re not even sure exists?"

Taph said nothing, but his eyes narrowed in thought. He looked like he was deep in it, calculating, considering.

Builderman sighed, leaning back against the cushion.

"I’m thinkin’ maybe we split up two teams. One to chase the bug, the other to dig into Spectre."

That lit something in Taph. He perked up, nodded enthusiastically, and gave a thumbs-up.

"Alright..." Builderman grinned slightly. "I’ll go get the others. Might actually be onto somethin’ with this one. Not fast, but steady... and that’s good enough right now."

But before he could say another word

 

The lights in his head cut out like a flipped switch.

 

Oh.

Oh, god.

The match already started?!

 

This round killer is…C00LKIDD

The world came into focus in a violent lurch.

The arena stretched out before him like the belly of a dying beast, Underground War, a fortress-split hellscape. Two halves: one dripping in ominous red, the other frozen in icy blue. The air was thick, charged with tension. The ground was littered with jagged rocks, cracked barricades, rusted metal, and dead trees reaching like skeletal fingers toward a sky that wasn’t there.

A new map. Spectre must’ve added it recently, just to keep things “interesting.”

Builderman didn’t waste a second. He rushed into position, eyes darting for a safe corner. No time to waste. No time to hesitate. He had to get a sentry up fast.

He knew better than to build mid-chase. The killer would get a clean hit before the wrench even turned once. Builderman still remembered his first match, the lesson burned deep.

A little of this, a little of that...

Click.

The sentry snapped into place, humming with power.

Perfect.

“H-hey, Builderman…”

The admin nearly jumped. Noob had appeared out of nowhere like a ghost

“Sheesh, Noob, don’t sneak up on me like that.” Builderman exhaled. “Do you know who’s distracting the killer right now? If we can bait C00LKIDD over here, the sentry might hold him long enough”

He scanned the area, no one nearby but Noob, who was nervously fiddling with his fingers

“I-I think… the demon kid is chasing Shedletsky underground. Not sure though. I just saw a glimpse…”

Builderman nodded. That tracked

"Alright. Stay outta trouble, kid. I’m gonna go help Shed out. He’s a mess on his own."

“O-oh... stay safe!” Noob called after him, worry written all over their face

But Builderman was already moving, boots hitting the stone floor as he sprinted toward the tunnels.

-

Builderman bolted down the tunnel just in time to see Shedletsky land a solid hit on C00lkidd, stunning him.

But god, Shedletsky was already down to half-health?!

"I’M TELLING DAD!" C00lkidd shrieked, clutching the gash Shedletsky had left on him. He staggered, then stood tall again, eyes burning with manic vengeance.

"C’mon, Shed! Sentry’s up top!" Builderman yelled, grabbing Shedletsky’s arm and hauling him along. Behind them, the sound of C00lkidd’s footsteps was growing louder, closer.

“God, the kid bounced back up already?!” Shedletsky coughed, blood spattering from his mouth, but he kept running. Pure survival instinct kicked in.

They rounded a corner, there! The sentry was in sight.

"There it is!" Builderman began to say-

"Gotcha!"

The laugh came first, high-pitched and echoing like a broken radio.

SHLUNK.

C00lkidd’s sword sank deep into Shedletsky’s back. Builderman could only watch as blood exploded from the wound, spraying across his face and clothes.

Shedletsky screamed, a raw, tortured sound that split the air like a siren.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH-!”

He crumpled to his knees, clutching his side, blood pooling through his fingers. Every breath was a wheeze. Every word broke under the weight of agony.

“It-it burns-! I can’t-” He bit back a second scream, but it tore out anyway. Trembling, broken, he still tried to stand. He had to make it. Just a few more steps-

Too late.

C00lkidd giggled. A twisted, childish sound that didn’t belong here.

He grabbed Shedletsky’s leg, yanked him off his feet, and ran, dragging the body like a broken toy. Shedletsky’s face scraped violently against the rocky ground, leaving behind skin, blood, pieces of what used to be a man.

SMASH.

C00lkidd slammed him into a boulder. The impact cracked bone, ribs, skull, spine. Builderman watched in paralyzed horror as his friend crumpled like a sack of wet meat.

Dead. Brutally. Undeniably.

Shedletsky would respawn, sure. But seeing it never got easier. Not when you could still see his organs spilled out like garbage. Not when the rock behind him was painted with his blood and bits of his intestine. Not when the smell of iron and meat made your stomach twist.

“Let’s do that again sometime!” C00lkidd laughed cruelly, dropping Shedletsky’s leg like discarded trash.

Then he looked up. Locked eyes with Builderman.

The smile widened.

The kid charged, giggling, rabid. Eyes wide with glee. Lips stretched to his ears. Blood in his teeth.

Builderman finally snapped out of his stupor and ran.

Toward the sentry.

His sentry.

Built to protect his friends.

And one of them was already dead.

Because he didn’t get there in time.

He reached the sentry, but there was no relief. Just numbness. The sentry would buy time. That’s all. Maybe enough for the others to escape. Maybe.

BANG.

Pain exploded in his thigh.

His eyes widened.

Did-did the sentry just shoot him?!

The bullet tore into his leg, cutting off his only path of escape. He stumbled, gasping.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

More shots. Ripping into his body.

He tried to scream, but the pain stole his voice.

Why? Why was the sentry turning on him? Had Spectre messed with its coding? Since when could sentries hurt survivors?

And worse, C00lkidd saw it too.

An idea lit up in the killer’s eyes. He laughed like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Rattle 'em boys!"

He summoned his two pizza delivery henchmen. They appeared instantly, silent, grinning, eager. No words needed. They already knew what to do.

C00lkidd skipped off to hunt more victims.

Builderman’s panic rose. "No no no no no-"

He tried to crawl away, blood smearing behind him.

Futile struggle.

The henchmen were on him in seconds. Teeth and claws like industrial tools, ripping into him. Flesh torn away in strips. Blood spraying.

He couldn’t scream.

They tore out his vocal cords.

He could only taste blood, salty, metallic, with a faint, almost sweet undertone.

He closed his eyes.

Let it happen.

Ripped apart like discarded meat.

Better luck next time, Builderman.

-

-

-

Builderman jolted awake, back in the main cabin.

Same as always.

The dull hum of the safe zone buzzed around him. No pain. No blood. Just the cold aftertaste of death.

He turned instinctively, and there was Shedletsky, already staring at him in stunned silence, having just quit spectating mode. The two locked eyes for a beat. A silent, grim acknowledgment passed between them. They both nodded, shaky and unsure, but alive again.

The match wasn’t over.

Not yet.

They still had time before regrouping with the others.

Shedletsky was the first to break the silence.

“You sure your sentry never shot you before… right?”

Builderman didn’t answer immediately. His brow furrowed.

“…It’s not just weird. It’s off.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes dark with thought. “And C00lkidd? That wasn’t him. Not the usual version of him. Too… brutal. Way more than usual. I’m bettin’ the Spectre’s behind it. Twistin’ things. Tryna make it harder for us to find Ell.”

Shedletsky let out a groan, fingers diving into his messy hair.

“Great. So now Spectre’s not just warping the world—he’s playin’ puppeteer with the killers too? What’s next? Killer loot crates? A death roulette?”

They talked in low voices, tension hanging thick in the air. Then, one by one, the others began to respawn. The match had ended in a total loss. No one made it out alive.

Noob was the last to respawn.

They stumbled in, ghost-pale, eyes wide with panic. Their arms trembled. Sweat streamed down Their temples.

“God… that was… something new…” Their voice shook.

Shedletsky turned to him. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

“C-C00lkidd, he crushed me. I could feel my bones breaking… slow. Painful. Like-like they were being crushed by a truck, one bone at a time.”

They clamped a hand over their mouth and bolted, likely to find a sink or a bush, to throw up in.

Silence.

Shedletsky stared after him, jaw clenched. “…That’s worse than I thought.”

-

Later

-

Everyone gathered at the main table. Chance sat casually on the edge, whistling a tune, swinging his legs like he didn’t just get murdered an hour ago.

“Sooo… what’s the deal?” he asked, tilting his head. “You call us all here ‘cause you finally found a breadcrumb on Ell?”

Builderman stood at the head of the room. His expression was firm, steady.

“Alright,” he said, his voice cutting through the idle chatter. “Now that everyone’s here, I’ll get to the point.”

The room quieted immediately.

Eyes turned toward the admin.

He took a breath. Folded his arms.

“I think the Spectre’s escalating. I think he’s not just trying to keep us from finding Elliot anymore, he’s trying to break us down. Mentally. Physically. He’s changing the rules. You all felt it. You all saw it. That match wasn’t normal. C00lkidd wasn’t normal.”

He scanned their faces, every one of them marked by fear, tension, exhaustion.

“So I’m proposing a split.”

A few raised eyebrows.

“Two teams,” he explained. “One investigates Spectre directly. Tries to understand what he’s doing. Maybe even bait him out. The other? Tracks the so-called bug on Planet Voss. If it’s real, and it might be, that could be a lead. A real one. On Elliot.”

Murmurs filled the room.

“I know it’s slow and might be dangerous” Builderman added, “but doing nothing’s worse. We either push back now, or let the Spectre control every inch of our lives in this place.”

He let the silence hang.

Now it was their choice.

-

Notes:

4612 words
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oh god...why's the words keeps getting more and more each chapters...someone stop me vro

Damn I can't bear myself to write another chap like this, but thank you for suggesting me to write a serious one, first time write things like this, I take a lot of reference from gore, I know my skill is not the best, please don't judge
(fun fact: 50% of the time author spend on this chap is to research and ask google a lot just to write Dusekkar's dialogue)

Chapter 7: Gubby Cafe

Summary:

"Anxiety attack" is a sudden, intense episode of overwhelming fear or distress. It often involves physical symptoms like a racing heart, shortness of breath, dizziness, and sweating. During an attack, people become highly sensitive to these sensations, which can increase feelings of panic and loss of control.

Notes:

Hi, I should've done with this chap more early, but guess someone here got lazy disease and school keep pushing assignments toward me, EXAM ALREADY DONE WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME

Fun fact: author was so mad bc someone here just got scammed, the Elliot "Gummy" skin was so dark vro, where's it's glowing funny green light 3 (still grateful for the small update thou)

Chapter 7: Gubby Cafe

Another "normal" day at the pizzeria.

Elliot leaned against the cashier counter, bored out of his mind. The clock ticking lazily, almost mocking him for the lack of customers. The usual lunch rush had come and gone, or maybe never even showed up today. Cody had just left to deliver a few orders Elliot handed him ten minutes ago, and now the silence was starting to feel... unnatural

Too quiet

Out of six people working today, three were being suspiciously silent. Elliot narrowed his eyes, staring toward the back

Had Sean finally vaporized into Lala Land?

Had Luke and Richard got their mouth duct-taped by Sam again?

Where was the chaos? The shouting? The lukewarm insults over pineapple pizza?

The season had turned too quickly for Elliot's liking. Good old spring had gently kissed his cheeks with warm breezes and faint floral smells. Now, summer had arrived like an uninvited relative, loud, sweaty, and impossible to ignore. Worst part? The pizzeria’s air conditioner had declared bankruptcy and died on them three days ago. Probably unionized just like Mc Donald’s ice cream machine, the lazy bastard

Elliot groaned. The heat was cooking his insides like a microwave burrito. He peeled himself off the counter, his uniform shirt glued to his back in a tragic display of swampy despair

Dragging his melting body toward the kitchen felt like trekking across a desert while chained to a lead elephant. Every step was a challenge; the floor practically hissed under his shoes. He was sweating so much, if someone wrung him out like a rag, they’d get a gallon of Suffering liquid

Why did summer even exist? The only good thing about it was summer break, and that vanished the moment you graduated and had to become a “responsible adult”

Ugh

He finally stumbled into the kitchen and was greeted with a scene of mutual misery

Luke was lying on the floor, groaning like a dying whale. Samantha had her face smushed into the table, looking like she was trying to psychically will the heat away. And Richard?

Nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Richard?” Elliot asked, glancing around like he expected him to pop out of the air

“No clue” Samantha mumbled, waving her hand lazily. “Said he was going out for a bit. I think he melted on the sidewalk”

“Elliot, for the love of pizza” Luke croaked from the floor, “call someone. Anyone. Exorcise the heat. I can’t stand this AGONY anymore!”

He looked like a raisin. A sun-dried raisin that had seen war.

“I would call the repair guy, but…” Elliot slumped down beside him. “They won’t answer. Probably also died in this heat”

That’s when salvation arrived.

The front door burst open with theatrical flair. In walked Sean and Richard, looking way too chipper for people who hadn't discovered a portal to Antarctica.

“ELL!” Sean shouted, eyes sparkling like he just got front-row tickets to a concert hosted by dancing otters. He shoved a piece of paper into Elliot’s face like it was a golden ticket. “You gotta see this! Oh my GOD- oh my GOD- OH my GOD!”

“Okay okay- stop shoving it in my face!” Elliot pried the flyer from Sean’s sweaty hands and squinted at the ridiculous amount of text

[The Grand and Gloriously Gubby Gathering Grounds & Cafe Emporium of Cozy Conversations, Caffeinated Curiosities, Confectionery Concoctions, Wonderfully Wacky Whimsical Whispers, Overbrewed Overstatements, Comfortably Cluttered Corners, Emotionally Supportive Seating Arrangements, Mildly Existential Muffin Moments, and That One Very Mysterious Teapot That’s Always Just Slightly Too Warm to Touch But Never Quite Hot Enough to Be of Any Practical Use, Now Open to All Sentient Beings, Ghosts of Forgotten Beans, and Conversationally Inclined Chairs! Come Now, or Regret Everything!!!]

“...The Grand what now?” Samantha peeked over Elliot’s shoulder, eyebrows climbing. “Did a thesaurus throw up on this flyer?”

“No clue, but listen, can we go there?” Sean asked, practically vibrating. “They have air conditioning and GUBBIES!”

“Wait, hold up. Gubby? Like those fat little fluffy things that look like walking marshmallows?” Luke suddenly bolted upright, alive with purpose. “Count me IN!”

“Are you guys serious?” Samantha frowned. “Places like that usually cost a fortune. We're all broke, remember?”

“They’re doing a grand opening. Fifty percent off everything,” Richard added. “And I checked. Drinks and snacks are super reasonable”

“...Oh,” Samantha said flatly. “I’m in”

The whole group turned to Elliot, their collective gaze filled with the kind of hope usually reserved for lottery tickets and wishes on falling stars.

Elliot sighed.

And who is he to

 

 

 

 

 

Accept

“No”

Four jaws dropped.

“What the fuck you mean ‘no’?” Sean asked, eyes wide with betrayal.

“We’re literally on the clock,” Elliot said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You guys remember we’re working, right? Bills? Rent? Hello?”

“Even Sam said yes!” Sean cried, flailing.

“Why should I go?”

“Why not?!”

“...”

“...”

“………”

“………”

“Fine,” Elliot muttered. “I’m only going for the air conditioning and maybe an iced latte. Maybe.”

Cheers erupted.

Luke jumped up and spun like a child who just got a Nintendo Switch. Samantha offered a rare smirk. Richard fist-pumped. Sean squealed like a kettle going off.

“Did y’all forget your meds today or what?” Elliot mumbled.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not excited, edgelord” Richard teased, grabbing his keys.

Just then, the front door opened again and in walked Cody, returning from delivery, smile fading as the squad rushed past him like a stampede.

“Wait- where are you-? HEY-!”

“Congratulations, Cody! You’re coming with us!” Sean yelled, dragging the poor guy by the arm and tossing him into his car, the only car among them that didn’t smell like death and despair.

Elliot slid into the passenger seat, set the AC to full blast, and sighed in bliss as the cold air wrapped around his overheated limbs.

“God bless refrigerant,” he muttered.

“Can I drive?” Luke asked, grinning from the back seat.

“No,” Elliot and Sean said in perfect unison.

“But I’m good at Mario Kart-”

“You nearly flipped a the supply truck last time!” Elliot snapped. “You’re banned from steering wheels until the end of time.”

“Aw. ☹”

“Aw. ☹” Richard mimicked, laughing.

“You too, Richard. I still have whiplash from that last time.”

And with that, they were off, headed toward the mystically named Gubby Café, blasting down the road in Sean’s overheating Honda, a car full of sweaty, dramatic, slightly unstable twenty-somethings on a quest for air conditioning, iced coffee, and fuzzy creatures.

“…Anyone want some music?” Sean asked, reaching for the stereo.

“Anything but that ‘It’s Raining Tacos’ song,” Elliot warned. “You play that one more time and I swear I’m throwing your phone out the window.”

-

-

-

Passing through the quiet neighborhood, they soon arrived at a café neither too big nor too small,  just comfortably average.
“Is this the one? House C3, right?” Elliot muttered, glancing down at his phone again and raising a skeptical eyebrow. Then he looked back up at the place before him.

Truth be told, he probably didn’t need to double-check. His friend had already barged in ahead of his. With a faint chuckle, Elliot follow them inside

But then-
“Wait a minute…” he halted mid-step, turning back instinctively to peer inside the car. After a brief hesitation, he yanked Cody out by the arm. The rookie’s eyes were wide, half-panic painted all over his face. Maybe they did go a little overboard with this. But there was no turning back now.

Inside, the café was even better than Elliot had imagined. Cute little decorations adorned every shelf, tiny trinkets, potted plants, and whimsical figurines. Soft warm light from delicate LED strands draped along the walls bathed the room in a gentle glow. The cozy, muted pastel color palette made the entire place feel like a little sanctuary from the outside world.

And then-
“Oh my god, ELL! ELL! LOOK! LOOKIE LOOK! BIG TUMMY CREATURE!” Sean’s voice suddenly exploded as he shoved a round, furry bunny-like creature right into Elliot’s face.

Before Elliot could react, the softest, fluffiest thing in existence planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. He blinked, completely caught off guard.

“Wha- Wha?! Eugh! What was that for?!” Elliot stammered, trying to wipe the fuzz away, but his words were cut off before he could protest.

The room was full of these adorable creatures called Gubby big, fat, squishy balls of fluff with eyes full of innocent curiosity and paws perfect for cuddles.

“BIG TUBBY DOESN’T EVEN KNOW HOW BIG IT IS! TUBBYTUBBY BIG!” Luke called out from across the room, grinning like he was in heaven as he squeezed one of the creatures gently in his hand.

Samantha had just returned from ordering, a Gubby perched playfully on her arm. It patted her gently with its pudgy paw, as if demanding more attention. She smiled softly and set the orders down on the table before turning her eyes to the little creature snuggling Elliot’s leg.

Elliot crouched down instinctively, running his hand through the creature’s fur. It was short, probably trimmed for the summer months to keep the Gubbies comfortable.

“Who’s the cutest, ooooh? You are! Yes, you are, you little thing! Ehehehehahahaha-”

“R-Richard, stop that… you’re scaring me…” Luke nudged him nervously, eyes wide.

“Oh come on! Just look at their faces and tell me you wouldn’t act the same,” Richard rolled his eyes, holding a Gubby up like a prize. “Aggressive cuteness is a thing, people!”

While they played with the Gubbies, Elliot’s thoughts drifted. How much would Chance love this place?

Didn’t he mention once having a pet rabbit named Space? Or was it Pace?

He couldn’t quite recall, but he was sure Chance would be the first to drag him back here.

Yes, after he finally help them escaped of course…

They spent a good while playing games and chatting, laughter bubbling up between them like the fizz in their drinks. Stories were shared, jokes traded, and the comfortable hum of friendship wrapped around them like a warm blanket. A few hours later, Samantha returned with ordered food, carrying the tempting aromas of the meal that made everyone’s stomachs growl in anticipation.

“Come on, people! Food and drinks are ready!” Cody shouted, helping Samantha carry the trays.

“Oh? We ordered food?” Elliot asked, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, might as well eat here before heading back to work,” Sean said with a grin.

“Honestly, I don’t mind. This feels nice.”

“Duh! I told you, you’d love it!”

“Oh, shut it, Sean.” Elliot laughed and gently punched Sean’s arm.

“Come on, I can’t wait to drink my ice-cold soda-”

And before Elliot could finish his sentence, he froze, eyes locked on the thing in front of him. A hot, fresh pizza sat steaming on the table, its golden, gooey cheese stretching with every movement, resting on a bed of harshly toasted brown crust. Scattered on top were slices of pepperoni, glistening with oil, curled at the edges like they’d just come out of the oven.

Right

A looking delicious, good looking pizza

Its freshly baked aroma rushed up his nose, warm and rich, wrapping around his senses before he could think. The scent of perfectly crisped pepperoni mingled with the deep, savory tang of tomato sauce, thick, vibrant, and clearly made with care. Melted cheese dripped lazily over the edges, bubbling hot and golden

It disgusts him

“hello? Ell? Come on, dig in before I hog everything” Richard wave his hand around Elliot’s face

“Or are you jealous this place makes better pizzas than you?”

“H‑hey! Of course not!” Elliot shot back, snapping out of his daze. “I just zoned out for a second and you’re already jumping to conclusions?”

Still wrestling the knot of unease in his stomach, he shoved the thoughts aside, grabbed a slice, and lifted it to his lips. Hot cheese stretched in silky threads, the pepperoni shimmering with grease. See? he told himself. Nothing’s going to go wrong. Yet the tremor in his hand said otherwise.

God it smells awful

No snap out of it Elliot!

It just a stupid slice of pizza, what’ll it does? Burn your mouth?

Not like it’ll hurt to eat

Despite his attempt, his hand refuse to let the pizza go any further into his mouth, Elliot keep open then close his mouth, as if he’s waiting for some magical things to happen

At last, Elliot mustered enough courage. With a hesitant breath, he shoved the slice into his mouth. For a moment, everything stilled, until his eyes blinked wide, the familiar scene around him warping into something dreadful. The instant it touched his tongue, a wave of nausea rose like a tide. His stomach twisted violently.

There was nothing wrong with the pizza. In fact, it was perfect, the crust crackled with a satisfying crunch, the melted cheese clung warmly to his teeth, and the pepperoni offered a burst of rich, smoky flavor. It was a masterpiece. Everything should have tasted good.

Yet

Elliot felt like vomit, he should be enjoying this but- he don’t know, he just- can’t…

He doesn’t even know how to describe it; he doesn’t know how to describe the horrendous feeling forming inside him

 

Metallic, sour, or bitter even if it’s not supposed to be like that

 

The texture feels slimy or gritty, no matter what it really is.

 

Like it's rotting in his mouth, even if it's fresh.

 

Maybe it’s how the other survivors tastes, like an old pennies and wet cardboard

 

He might taste dirt, sweat, blood, or even ash instead of the actual flavor.

 

It was just a slice of pizza. But all Elliot could taste was…nothing and the bitter edge of fear.

He dropped the half-eaten slice onto the table, hands trembling. Why was it so hard to breathe? Why was his vision blurring, darkening at the edges? This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was just food. Just pizza.

But eating felt like chewing regret. Like tearing through paper. Like swallowing warm, soapy water that clung to the throat. He felt like he was dying, rotting, from the inside out.

“Elliot…?”

The food blurred, disappearing beneath the weight of memory. The dam had cracked. The past surged back in full force.

A memory flared,
Guest, handing him the medkit.
“Take it,” he’d said. “I’m not that hurt! You need it more, Ell. I remember you find it unpleasant eating your own pizza, so I figured you’d need this, mate. You can heal me after your cooldown ends.”
He was hurt. Elliot knew it. He always knew.

“Elliot.”

His fingers moved on their own, picking up the slice again. Another bite. The shame clung to his tongue like grease, heavy and unshakable.
His eyes burned.

The food pulsed in his mouth, hot, alive, mocking. Disgusting.

“Elliot!”

He doubled over, and vomited.

“ELLIOT!”

Samantha was the first to move. Her phone clattered to the floor as she bolted from her chair, dropping to her knees beside him. Elliot lay sprawled, motionless, his breathing faint, barely there. Her hands hovered over him, unsure where to start, instinct and panic warring in her chest.

“Cody!” she snapped, voice sharp. “Go get help. Find an employee, now!”

Cody scrambled up without a word and ran. Around them, the Gubbies scattered in fright, some bolted into hiding, while others hovered at a distance, eyes wide, silent witnesses to something far too human.

“ELLIOT?!”

Luke tried to shout, but Samantha shot up and stopped him with a hand to his chest, her eyes fierce and pleading.

“Don’t yell,” she hissed. “You’ll make it worse.”

“W‑well I didn’t know! He just, he just collapsed! I panicked, okay?!”

Samantha exhaled sharply through her nose, biting back her frustration. She turned back to Elliot, forcing her voice into something gentler, steadier.

“Elliot. Hey. Hey, can you hear me?” she whispered, her hand lightly brushing his shoulder. “Come on, stay with me…”

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry.
She should’ve known.

He’d gone pale. Dizzy. Detached. The signs had been there, all of them.
And what had she done? Sat there, scrolling her phone like everything was fine.

Years in med school

She thought bitterly.

And this is the best I can do?

Her throat tightened. Her hands shook.

“Oh god, Elliot…”

Samantha gently laid Elliot flat on his back, her hands steady despite the chaos churning inside her. She propped his legs up slightly, angling them on a rolled-up sweater to help improve blood flow to his brain. Then, with trembling fingers, she undid a few buttons on his work uniform, letting his body breathe.

But God-
How could she have missed the signs?

How could she be so careless?
Stupid, stupid Sam…

Footsteps pounded back toward them.

“T‑the employee’s gonna clean up the vomit,” Cody stammered, voice high, eyes wide. “W‑we should pack up. Should we-should we take Elliot to the h‑hospital?” His hands were still shaking, pale and clammy, and his lips barely kept up with his thoughts.

Samantha didn’t look up, just placed a firm hand on Elliot’s chest, checking for rhythm. Still breathing. Still there. Thank god.

“What the hell…” Richard’s voice broke through, soft and stunned. “What just happened? Did he choke? A seizure?”

The carefree smirk he always wore was gone. He stood frozen, one hand still holding a half-eaten slice of pizza. His eyes flicked down to the floor where Elliot’s visor had hit the tile with a hollow clatter, like a dropped mask. That had been their only warning.

“Sean. Water. Now. And a towel- cold, if you can,” Samantha barked.

That snapped Sean out of it. He blinked hard, fumbled with the soda he’d been holding, and set it down with a splash. “Shit, okay- okay!”

As he ran, a thought rose in his chest like a forgotten ghost.

Just what kind of hell did Elliot go through before he came back?

 

-

-

“Elliot?”

A voice pulled him back. His head throbbed. Cool tile pressed against his cheek. Slowly, he blinked, and found Samantha kneeling beside him, her hand hovering near his shoulder, close, but not quite touching.

“You’re safe,” she said softly. “You fainted.”

He blinked again. The pizza slice. The taste. The memory.

“I-I’m okay,” he whispered.

A lie. A bad one.

But Samantha didn’t call him out. She just stayed there, close and quiet, like a tether to the present.

“Do you want me to take it away?” she asked, nodding toward the slice on the table.

His stomach clenched. He nodded.

Samantha turned her head. “Sean. Can you?”

“Yeah,” Sean muttered, finally moving. He grabbed the plate and dumped it in the trash with a thud, slamming the lid shut.

“Gone. Gone for good.”

And for a moment, just a moment, in the soft background hum of café music and the gentle chirps of curious Gubbies, Elliot felt something shift.
Like maybe- just maybe- he wasn’t alone anymore.

His breath began to slow.

Luke sat back on his heels and let out a long, shaky sigh.
“You scared the hell out of us, man.”

Richard knelt nearby, still wide-eyed.
“Dude, you gotta warn us next time you drop like that.”

Elliot gave a weak, crooked smile.
“Wish I’d had time.”

They laughed, nervous, unsteady. The kind of laughter that clings to fear’s edge, trying to push it away.

Samantha never stopped watching him. Her eyes were steady. Kind.

“You don’t have to tell us everything,” she said gently. “But you don’t have to go through it alone, either.”

Elliot didn’t answer. But slowly, his hand reached for hers.

And that
For now
Was enough.

-

-

“Now can one of you young people explain to me why I walked into the pizzeria and found not one, not two, ZERO employees on shift!?”

They all stood in a crooked line, frozen like deer in headlights, grinning dumbly as if they'd been caught sneaking out of detention. Everyone except Cody, who looked like he was about to ascend directly to heaven, eyes glassy from the sheer stress.

“Sir, it was hot,” Richard offered, ever the brave fool. “There were no customers all day!”

“AND?!”

“We went to a café,” he continued, as if that explained everything. “It had air conditioning… and Gubbies!”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“…What does that even have to do with skipping your damn shifts?! Not just you, all of you! The whole staff, gone! I thought I'd been robbed!”

 “Look, we weren’t “skipping.” We were uhh… spiritually unavailable!”

“Spiritually?! Richard, your friend posted video of you singing passionately in the kitchen with the doughs and toppings as ‘the audience’ during your Thursday shift. I watched it. Twice. I even liked it by accident!”

And just like that, Richard knew.

His eyes narrowed. His smile dropped. Slowly, dramatically, he turned his head, snapped it, really, straight toward Luke.

 “Ok hear me out! At least he liked it”

“You- actually, that’s kind of true, yeah I’ll let you off for that”

“Nice!” Luke smile proudly, he even gives a thumbs up

“Not ‘nice’! You put the store phone number in the video!” yell their manager

“Free advertising?”

“A woman called at 5AM asking for a concert date and tickets. I didn’t know whether to hang up or sell you to them”

“Okay, valid”

Their manager sighed deeply and sat down. Clamping a hand over his face for a long moment, he finally looked up, massaging his temples before continuing.

“Kids. I want to believe in you. Deep down… deeeep down, past the crust and through the crack in my soul, I want to believe. But you’re killing me. Slowly. Like cheese melting in a microwave.”

“Microwaved cheese is still cheese, sir!” Sean shouted.

Elliot turned his head away from them. He honestly wasn’t sure if he should be siding with his coworkers or with the manager right now.

“One more missed shift,” the manager warned, pointing a finger with the weight of doom behind it, “and I swear on my last sweet shred of patience, you’re delivering pizzas to the Underworld. And not the cool Hades one, the one with Karen from accounting.”

“Understood! I will become a pizza employee of ultimate responsibility!” Luke declared, standing at attention.

“You better be. Now go sweep the kitchen. And don’t make Elliot snap the broom in half this time!”

Okay, why was Elliot involved in this? That was very funny, sir…

“No promises!” Luke yelled as he marched off.

For fuck’s sake, Elliot thought. He swore these people were the most unserious, fearless creatures on Earth.

-

-

And with that, everyone drifted back to their duties. Elliot and Cody stood in the kitchen, cleaning while chatting about whatever random topic popped up to kill time. Luke and Richard had gone out to grab another mop, Samantha was wiping down tables, and Sean was manning the ovens.

“Man, when will this end? I’m bored half to death,” Elliot groaned.

“Maybe you should take a break, please? You just fainted not that long ago…” Cody said gently. He still looked a bit worried about his senior, and it made Elliot chuckle.

“I’ll be fine, man. All happy and whimsical over here.”

“Promise?”

“Promise!—”

“LASER EYE DINOSAUR!!”

Luke burst into the room, riding the mop like a horse- or a dinosaur? Who knew. Ask him. He was grinning like a lunatic. And, honestly, Richard wasn’t much better.

“Sweet mother of earth- what were you thinking?!” Elliot gasped, clutching his chest like a Victorian widow. If he could die from blood pressure spikes, he’d be dead ten times over by now. How did people this unserious and fearless still walk the earth?

Elliot watched the two of them gallop across the kitchen, mop in hand, roaring and laughing like children on a sugar high. He tried to catch Sean’s eye for backup, only to realize that fatass had already disappeared to his pizza boxing station.

“Man… those two are seriously… unserious and fearless” Samantha sighed as she scrubbed the last stubborn stain off the table. She had endured enough nonsense today and did not need more.

“That’s what I’m saying!!” Elliot shouted back.

-

-

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long amber streaks across the pizzeria’s greasy windows, the clang of the final mop bucket echoed faintly through the now-empty kitchen. The ovens were off. The floor was spotless. Counters gleamed like they had something to prove. Another day survived.

The door creaked closed with a soft click, locking the world out.

Sean trudged toward the backroom, phone in hand, half-typing a text, half-grumbling about the heat still lingering in his shirt. “Yo, Ell- oh”

He froze mid-step

There, Elliot was fast asleep. His limbs were awkwardly sprawled, head tilted at a painful angle against the wall, mouth parted just enough to let out the softest snore. His apron was still on, askew, tangled around him like he hadn’t even tried to take it off before passing out.

Sean blinked. The dude looked wrecked.

He stepped in slowly, careful not to wake him. For a moment, he just stood there, watching. Listening to the quiet rise and fall of Elliot’s breath.

“…Welp.” Sean exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Come home when you wake up, man”

He shrugged off his hoodie and gently draped it over Elliot’s shoulders. The fabric swallowed him. The room smelled faintly of dish soap and burnt cheese.

Sean lingered, hand on the doorknob, eyes flicking back to the sleeping form of his friend.

He knew. Deep in his gut, something was off.

Elliot hadn’t always been like this. The late sleep nights. The blank stares when he thought no one was looking. It wasn’t burnout. It was something heavier. Something clawing at him from the inside out.

Sean had asked once when he finally meet Elliot after 2 years of disappearance. Just once. Elliot had laughed it off. A joke, tossed like a lifeline into an ocean of silence.

But Sean wasn’t stupid. You didn’t have to be a genius to recognize someone trying to carry a storm inside their ribs.

Still, he didn’t press. Not tonight.

No one could drag a secret out of a locked-up heart, not without a crowbar or a catastrophe. And Sean wasn’t ready to break things open.

So he’d wait.

He'd keep tossing jackets over sleeping shoulders. Keep showing up. Keep making jokes until Elliot laughed for real again. Let time do its quiet work. Let trust grow in the cracks. Let fate pry the truth loose, whenever it was ready.

Until then, he’d be there.

He closed the door behind him with a soft click, and the pizzeria slipped into silence once more.

-

-

-

[Sleep well, Elliot]

Notes:

4426 words
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I'm tweaking all over the place rn, mid write this chap, I got a lil silly, evil and negative, guess who's the victim, that's right! Little Elliot ^_^
and then I stubbed my toe, realize what I just done and go back to write comedy ahahahahehheheheh :D

Chapter 8: Visit

Summary:

"Self-sabotage" refers to the act of unconsciously or consciously undermining one's own goals and efforts, often by repeating harmful patterns, making poor decisions, or engaging in behaviors that directly conflict with one's best interests, ultimately preventing personal growth or success.

Notes:

1,161 HITS AND 111 KUDOS?! I THOUGHT I WILL NEVER ACHIEVE THAT MUCH ON MY FIRST FIC, TYSM FOR SUPPORTING ME, I'M VERY GRATEFUL :,)

Chapter 8: Visit

It was Saturday.

The weekend. A time meant for rest, recovery, brunch, and maybe a questionable life decision or two

Instead, Elliot woke up with half his face smushed into a pile of notebook paper. Dried ink had ghosted onto his cheek like a poorly thought-out tattoo. Pens and pencils lay scattered across the floor in silent protest, clearly having given up on him hours ago. They stared at the ceiling like, “Why are we here? What is the purpose of our suffering?”

Elliot groaned

His entire body ached like it had personally gone through twelve marathons, a high school musical, and the emotional finale of any dog movie. He blinked groggily and slowly peeled his face from the desk, leaving behind a very dramatic, very moist cheek-shaped stain on a half-scribbled page titled

Mission Plan – Save Everyone (Eventually)

Progress:
Zero

Ouch. That touched a nerve. Right to the soul.

He sat up straighter, well, as straight as someone with a noodle-spine and regret for bones could and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. His neck popped in a way that would’ve made chiropractors weep and whisper ancient curses.

“Goddammit,” he muttered. “Stupid, unreliable Elliot. Can’t even fall asleep like a normal person without becoming modern art on a desk.”

Mood thoroughly poisoned by a few sheets of paper and an existential crisis, Elliot shoved back his chair and stumbled toward the bathroom like a man twice his age and three times more emotionally unstable. He camped there for a while, partly because he needed to pee, but mostly because he just wanted to sit on the closed toilet and feel sorry for himself in peace

Eventually, he emerged in a wrinkled pizzeria uniform shirt and his least-worst pair of pants, pants that, upon inspection, still had a cartoon sticker clinging to the back pocket. A souvenir from two weeks ago, when some overexcited five-year-old decided Elliot was a walking sticker book after he delivered their family-size supreme with extra olives.

The sticker, a faded smiling slice of pizza with googly eyes, now stared up at him like a ghost of cheese past. Mocking him.

“Of course you're still here,” Elliot muttered, peeling it off with all the dignity of a man who had completely lost control of his life.

He looked down at himself.

Nope. Absolutely not

“I am not going to the mall dressed like an overworked mozzarella slave,” he declared to no one in particular. “Past Elliot, curse your nonexistent fashion sense and your crippling addiction to being a workaholic!”

There was also the little detail of tomorrow’s visit to see his father and Mia—two people who actually cared about what he was wearing and who would absolutely not let it slide if he showed up looking like a discount delivery boy with a sleep disorder.

Elliot sighed. Dramatically. Oscar-worthy, maybe.

Time for a shopping spree. Or at least a panicked sprint through the racks of somewhere that didn’t smell like pepperoni grease and despair.

Phone? Wallet? Emotional baggage? Check, check, and unfortunately, check.

He opened the front door, only to be immediately slapped in the face by a wall of humid air so thick it felt like he was inhaling soup. Instantly sweating, Elliot tied his hair up and took one bold step outside

“HOLY SHIT-”

He jerked back into the doorway, shielding his eyes like a vampire witnessing his first sunrise. The sunlight didn’t just shine—it attacked. Full-blown solar laser beams right to the retinas. His skin sizzled dramatically, though that may have just been the sunburn from yesterday refusing to heal.

“…Nope.”

A pause.

“I’m getting an umbrella.”

He retreated like a war-torn soldier, muttering under his breath about SPF betrayal and how the sun should pay taxes. Somewhere, the faint sound of dramatic violin music played, probably in his head.

This was going to be a long day.

-

-

-

Entering the mall with zero hesitation, Elliot marched straight into the nearest clothing store, fueled by one singular, burning goal
get those drip
He was going to get himself some actual clothes, dammit. No more looking like a sleep-deprived mozzarella slave with abandonment issues.

However… once he got there…

“…What the fuck do I wear?”

He stared helplessly at the racks. One moment he was holding up a violently beige sweater that looked like it had been born for awkward family Thanksgivings. The next, he somehow ended up clutching a pair of duck-print pants. And then, why god, now a neon green shirt that looked like it was powered by uranium.

“…”

Okay. So maybe Mia was right. She had once told him his fashion taste was ‘a crime against fabric’ at the time, he argued. Passionately.

Now?

No defense. No excuse. He was guilty. Lock him up, throw away the closet.

Swallowing his pride

and what little dignity he had left

Elliot shuffled awkwardly toward a nearby store employee folding shirts behind the counter.

“Hey, uhm… would you mind helping me find a decent outfit?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… don’t think I trust myself with this.”

She lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Of course!” she chirped, already walking toward him like a woman on a mission. Her eyes flicked up and down, calculating, analyzing.

Elliot suddenly felt like he’d just entered a boss battle he wasn’t prepared for.

“Average height,” she began sharply, circling him like a hawk eyeing a very confused mouse. “Five-eight? Five-ten? Bit of bulk through the shoulders and chest. Not enough to call you stocky, but you’re definitely not lean either. Broad back. Muscle in the arms... someone who lifts things but doesn’t live at the gym.”

Elliot blinked.

“…Uh-”

She wasn’t done. Not even close.

“I’d allow a little extra in the chest and taper the waist just a touch. Athletic, but in a subtle, understated way. What you want are clean lines, structured shoulders, room in the chest, trim at the waist. Nothing baggy, nothing skin-tight. Stretch where it matters, shape where it counts. Let the build show without shouting about it.”

Elliot stared at her, brain buffering violently.

“O-oh. Right. Thanks-”

Before he could finish, she was already launching clothes at him like a fabric-powered cannon.

“A lightweight, cream-colored Oxford shirt, soft brushed cotton. Tailored slim through the body, with just enough give in the shoulders. Drips class, but casually. A dusty olive knit cardigan, fine gauge, dark wood buttons. Says ‘approachable’ maybe ‘writes poetry on the side’ Tapered just enough to show you have a waist. Tobacco brown chinos, mid-rise, slim-straight fit, clean, adult, not trying too hard. Now, shoo shoo, dressing room’s that way, dear customer!”

She gave him a gentle shove and dusted her hands like she’d just cast a successful spell. With no other customers in the store, this was her big moment, and she was gonna get that sale.
Cold. Hard. Cash.

-

-

Inside the changing room, Elliot stood there for a solid ten seconds, staring at the clothes in his arms like they were enchanted relics

“…Did I just witness a fashion fairy godmother speedrun Cinderella?”

It had been, what, five minutes? Ten, tops? He barely even remembered asking for help, now he was holding an entire outfit picked with the precision of a sniper

Still stunned, Elliot slowly peeled off his clothes, hesitating for a second

It’s not that he didn’t trust her… it’s just that the whole thing had happened so fast, his soul hadn’t caught up with his body yet. One moment he was drowning in duck pants. The next, he was halfway to looking like someone who had their life together

“Damn…”

-

“Okay… okay, you’re actually right,” Elliot muttered, staring dumbfounded at his reflection in the mirror. “This… this really fits me.”

He looked good. Like, unreasonably good. Where had this version of him been hiding? Was this what self-confidence felt like? Did people actually live like this?

The cardigan hugged his shoulders just right. The Oxford shirt made him look like he paid taxes on time. The chinos said, This man knows what a skincare routine is, even if he definitely didn’t.

"Hah! See?" the employee beamed proudly from outside the dressing room. “Told you. Now, would you like to purchase these, Mr. Former Disaster?”

“A-actually…” Elliot rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Could you, uh, recommend a few more outfits? I think… I think I need to renovate my whole closet. Like, from scratch. Burn it all down, start over”

He gave a nervous laugh, realizing how much he was probably bothering her. But let’s be honest, without her, he’d be walking out of this store in a neon green shirt that said ‘I make bad decisions’

She smiled like she’d just been handed a personal side quest. “Absolutely! Anything to help a customer in need.”

And with that, she whisked him away through the store, flitting between racks with the speed of a caffeinated hummingbird. Every few seconds she’d hand him another item, shirts, jackets, pants, each accompanied by rapid-fire fashion lingo that went straight over Elliot’s head.

“This jacket says ‘clean-cut but not uptight’ Great for layering, gives structure to the frame.”

“These jeans are selvedge denim, slim but forgiving, strong silhouette.”

“Try this crewneck. Good transitional piece. Casual but confident.”

Elliot nodded along like he understood a single word she was saying.

He did not. Absolutely not.

She might as well have been casting spells.

At some point he just stopped trying to understand and started treating it like being guided by a particularly stylish oracle. Honestly? Best decision he made all week.

-

-

Elliot ended up buying way more than he planned. Like, way more. To be fair, a few of the pieces he picked himself, and he was honestly proud of that. Proudcore activated. Now, walking out of the mall with his arms stacked high with shopping bags, he felt... satisfied.

Also, like someone’s daughter who just maxed out their dad’s credit card during a Black Friday rampage.

He definitely looked funny like this, juggling bags and sweating like he just completed a shopping triathlon. And now he’s at the laundromat and determined wash all of it before tomorrow. Because if he showed up to see his father and Mia looking like a sleep-deprived pizza goblin, he might just combust from shame.

“So that’s why you’re here?” said Samantha, making Elliot jump like he just got caught doing something illegal.

“Wha, wait. Why are you here?”

“Oh, right,” she said with a shrug. “Trying to save up for a new laptop. The one at home is basically steam-powered at this point. Luke and Richard probably picked up part-time gigs somewhere, who knows.”

She glanced down at the mountainous stack of shopping bags Elliot carried.

“…Is that a body? Or three?”

“N-no! I just… actually bought some clothes. Gotta get that drip, you know?”

“Ah. Retail therapy gone feral?”

“I can’t just walk around in the pizzeria uniform forever!” he huffed.

That earned him a long stare from Samantha, who lowered her phone just to squint at him. She looked like she’d just found something cursed in a dollar bin.

“…Hold on. Wait a minute. You what? Why the hell would you walk around in your pizzeria uniform?”

“Well… I recently discovered I, uh… only own uniforms. Like, exclusively. That’s all I have.”

A beat.

Samantha blinked slowly, then deadpanned
“Tell me you’re a workaholic without telling me you’re a workaholic, huh?”

“Oh, shut it!”

Elliot’s face went full cherry-red as he scrambled toward the washing machine, frantically trying to open his shopping bags and dump clothes into a washer. It looked less like a person doing chores and more like a raccoon committing tax fraud.

Clothes spilled out everywhere. It was like watching someone lose a game of laundry Jenga in real time.

“How many machines can I use?” Elliot asked, panicking.

“How many kidneys do you have?” Samantha replied. “These take coins, remember?”

“Do you accept organs?”

“No, but the vending machine eats souls. I recommend yours”

Elliot sighed and pulled out a little handful of quarters.
What? Rich people have loose change too.

“I think I’ve got enough for four loads. Or like, one cursed blanket from a fantasy novel”

That made Samantha snort. “Congratulations. You now own more clean shirts than I have socks”

“…How many socks do you have?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to”

Elliot hesitated, holding a sleek black shirt in his hands.
“…Is it weird that I’m nervous to wash them? They’re… new. I’ve never had this many new things at once”

He gave a soft chuckle. It was kind of true. Before the Forsaken Realm, he’d been a nonstop workaholic, pouring his whole soul into the pizzeria. No time to shop, no time to think. And once he got Forsakened? It was just survival, day after day. The idea of owning “outfits” had been laughable

“You treat those shirts better than I treat my houseplants” Samantha muttered.

A beat.

“…Actually, that’s not saying much. But still- nah, man. Wash away. New clothes deserve new beginnings”

Elliot smiled faintly and knocked on the glass of the washing machine.

Samantha flopped down dramatically on the washer beside him. “Don’t get sentimental on me. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“When you become the manager of your dad’s company, or a motivational speaker, or the president of whatever this glow-up leads to… remember the little laundromat that kept your khakis crisp.”

Elliot grinned. “Deal. But only if you promise to buy more socks.”

“I make no such promises.”

The two of them laughed, their voices echoing above the whirr of the machines.

Then

“Ell?” Samantha asked cautiously. “Why does that machine look weird?”

“They say, ‘more soap, more clean.’ That’s just math.”

“…Elliot. How much detergent did you put in there?”

“I dumped three heaping scoops into the tray…”

“…Bro.”

A low rumble. A soft hiss. Then, from the sides of the machine-

Oh god…

Bubbles. So many bubbles. Frothing like a rabid cappuccino and oozing from the machine like a horror movie monster made of dish soap.

“…Oh no. Oh no. OH NO. I SUMMONED SOMETHING,” Elliot shrieked. “THIS IS HOW THE APOCALYPSE STARTS.”

The bubbles crawled across the tile toward his shoes.

“THE MACHINE IS FOAMING AT ME”

Samantha slipped and skidded on the now-slick floor, arms flailing.

“Bro. You wash your clothes or try to exorcise them?!”

“I thought more soap meant more clean!”

“That’s how you kill clothes, not cleanse their souls!” she shouted, hitting the emergency stop button like a seasoned laundromat firefighter.

“This isn’t a baptism! It’s a detergent tsunami!”

They both stared, jaws dropped, as the bubbles swirled and sloshed. The suds were halfway up Elliot’s shins.

“We need a mop,” Samantha whispered. “Or a priest…”

“…You’re paying double for this,” she added

“I know…” Elliot whimpered, soaked in bubble shame.

-

At last, Elliot finally walked out of the laundromat, triumphantly burdened with a massive stack of freshly cleaned clothes. He hummed softly to himself as he staggered down the sidewalk, arms barely wrapped around his mountain of laundry.

He might have been getting a few stares.

One in particular came from a small child holding her mother’s hand as they passed by.

“Mama,” the little girl whispered, wide-eyed. “Why is that man carrying so many clothes? He looks like the clothes fairy you told me about last night!”

The mom didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, yes, Gremlily. Now come on.”

“…Mama, I’m Emily.”

“I call you Gremlily because you’re like a gremlin.”

“Mama, I did nothing wrong!”

“Emily, you literally told your brother last night that if he shits on the bed, he’d turn into a unicorn. And then you did it yourself. You tricked yourself. Very funny.”

Elliot, caught in the blast radius of that spicy conversation, picked up his pace. He awkwardly speed-walked away, laundry tower swaying dangerously as he tried to pretend he hadn’t just overheard a child’s failed unicorn-poop con.

The weight of the clothes was starting to get unbearable. His arms burned. His soul was cracking. The words “clothes fairy” echoed in his mind like a haunting prophecy.

-

-

“...and that’s how things went for me yesterday”
Elliot finished recounting his disaster, met with explosive laughter from both his father and sister.

“BAHAHAHAHAHAHA-YOU?! I mean, you, brother? You can do anything, works all the job in the pizzeria, but laundry takes you out?”
Mia wheezed on the couch like a dying kettle.

“Oh shut it!” Elliot slapped her shoulder lightly

“Hah... oh, son,” Mr. Builder chuckled. “But seriously, out of everything, how’d you forgot how to do laundry?”

That question made Elliot pause.

He used to know how. He’d lived on his own for years, laundry, cooking, paying bills, he had it all down. But then he got Forsakened. There was no laundry in the Forsaken Realm. The Spectre would replace their bloodied rags with fresh clothes as if death had a wardrobe budget. There wasn’t time or energy to clean anything. So... yeah. Maybe his hands just got rusty.

Maybe he hadn’t fully come back yet.

“Eh... guess I haven’t gotten used to being back yet” Elliot chuckled, brushing it off.

But Mia wasn’t done. “Okay but fartface brother, why’d you disappear for not a day, not a week, but two entire years? What happened?”

“First of all, I’m not a fartface you donkey head. Second, it’s not that deep. I’m back and safe now.”

Mr. Builder didn’t laugh this time. “Elliot... Sean told me you had a huge cut on your back when you come back. That’s not some ‘oops I tripped’ kind of injury. That was critical”

“And he called that ‘not that deep’?! NOT THAT DEEP, my ass!” Mia shouted.

“Mia, language.”

“Sorry dad, but still!”

Mr. Builder sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, then turned to Elliot. His voice softened as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, like he was afraid Elliot might disappear again.

“Elliot... it’s okay if you don’t want to tell us. But when you’re ready, you can. Okay?”

Elliot didn’t speak. He just nodded.

Seeing that, Mr. Builder exhaled quietly and stepped back. “How about we go out for some ice cream?”

“Yeah... that sounds nice” Elliot smiled.

“Just don’t drop the cone like THAT one time. You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“Shush! You once ate all the Hershey bars and blamed a ghost, with chocolate smeared all over your face!”

“HEY! I thought we agreed to never speak of that again!” Mia cried. “You’ve made a powerful enemy!”

“Cool. Is she tiny and bad at Mario Kart?”

“At least she doesn’t have a bad haircut and smell like pizza grease.”

Elliot gasped in betrayal. “You dare?!”

“...”

“...”

“Pfffft-”

And all three burst into laughter again, with Mia’s kettle-wheeze echoing through the house.

-

-

Walking back home with an ice cream in his hand, Elliot smiled to himself.

Today had been… good. Strangely, refreshingly good.

The late afternoon sun cast warm orange hues across the sky, painting the world in melting gold. He watched the light slowly dissolve behind rooftops and telephone poles, like the sky itself was crumbling apart, peacefully, beautifully, making room for the moon to take over, for the stars to blink alive in their quiet splendor. It felt like the whole universe had scheduled a smooth shift change, and no one was in a rush. There was something comforting in that.

He wondered what his friends back in the Forsaken Realm would think of this sight. After all, for them, day never came. Their world was a prison of endless pitch-black night, silent, oppressive, draining. No color. No warm sun. Just the suffocating stillness.

Elliot took a deep breath, letting the fading sunlight soak into his skin like something sacred. He could almost imagine sharing this moment with them. Maybe someday he could. Maybe if things went right, if they ever went right again.

He chuckled softly to himself, walking a little slower.

There was so much he wanted to do when his friends finally free

He’d take Noob shopping. They never shut up about scene culture, stripey sleeves, colorful hair, chain belts, you name it. Maybe Elliot could help them build the ultimate scene look. Hot Topic probably had a sale or something. They could make a day out of it, grab boba or loiter around the mall like teenagers trying to be cool.

Shedletsky, that barefoot ex-admin, needed actual shoes. Or slippers. Something. Maybe fuzzy chicken slippers? That'd be perfect. Or just a box of fried chicken. Honestly, Shedletsky would probably marry a bucket of KFC if it proposed, but like, Elliot remember Shedletsky did say he has a wife at home, BlinkEyes right? Elliot doesn’t remember much but Shed did say she’s also an ex-admin. Also the guy had strange tastes, but Elliot respected it. Kind of.

Chance came to mind next. The addict-slash-pianist-slash-hyperfixated mess of a man. Elliot had never quite understood him, but he'd sheard Chance said he could play piano. Maybe Elliot could ask him to play. Maybe he’d get to meet Spade, Chance’s bunny. And maybe, just maybe, he could try to gently pry the man away from his gambling tendencies. Baby steps.

Dusekkar... now that one was a mystery. The pumpkin guy. Always rhythms for some reason. Did Dusekkar like music? Poetry books? Elliot had no clue. But he wanted to learn. He wished he’d asked more before everything. Escaping had been such a whirlwind, Elliot didn’t even say goodbye. He missed Dusekkar sometimes, randomly, like a melody stuck in his head that he couldn’t trace the origin of.

Then there was Guest 1337, a soldier, with a soft spot for his daughter. Charlotte? Harlot? …Charlotte, probably. Elliot thought about inviting Mia to meet her. Two girls hanging out, talking about dolls or stabbing monsters or whatever kids did these days. What could possibly go wrong?

Builderman, ah right. Elliot still didn’t know much about him other than Builderman being the big boss of the Roblox HQ and a very casual man. He imagined him as a CEO who secretly wore pink bunny slippers in board meetings and had a secret stash of gummy bears. Mysterious yet probably endearing. Elliot would have to figure out how to talk to him without sounding like a complete doofus.

Two Time, the weird cultist, might benefit from a cooking lesson. Maybe. If Elliot had the patience. Oh wait right, he almost forgot. Two Time mention they hadn’t eaten much pizza in their life, unforgivable, in Elliot’s book. Everyone deserved pizza. He’ll surely shoved Two Time with pizzas once they got out

And then there was…Tape? eh, the most recent addition. Not new, exactly, but the last to be Forsakened. Tape had a taste for odd snacks, pop rocks, brownies, whatever. Elliot wasn’t sure where he picked up that information. Probably overheard it during a half-conscious memory blur. But he made a mental note anyway. Food was a universal love language.

Elliot let out a long sigh through his nose. The cool breeze swept through his hair, ruffling it gently like a pat on the head.

He wanted to believe he could bring these moments to life. That he could make the silly dreams in his head real. That despite everything, the trauma, he wish he could still build something beautiful.

He could do this.

He would do this.

…Or not.

Wait. No. No, Elliot. Don’t go there. Don’t spiral. Don’t do the thing where you self-sabotage mid-wish.

You made it out. You’re home. You’re healing.

You can do this.

Say it. Say it out loud.

Say it like THE MAN YOU ARE

“I CAN DO IT!” Elliot shouted, fist raised high like a battle cry.

Plop

The sound echoed louder than expected.

He froze mid-step, looking down slowly like in a bad dream.

There, on the ground, lay his half-eaten ice cream, toppled in tragic fashion, slowly melting into the pavement.

He stared.

Then he looked at the empty cone in his hand.

Then back down at the sad puddle of dairy betrayal.

A pause.

A sigh.

A slow, agonizing realization:

History had repeated itself

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” Elliot muttered.

There it was again, that moment. The very same mistake. The dropped ice cream. The prophecy fulfilled.

He stared at the cone like it had personally wronged him. Like it was some kind of cosmic prank. Like the universe had a sense of humor, and he was the punchline.

Elliot trudged the rest of the way home in silence, clutching the now-pointless cone in his hand like a mourning soldier returning from battle.

Face solemn. Spirit bruised.

“…Great job, Elliot,” he muttered again. “You really walked into that one.”

A pause.

“…Again.”

-

-

-

Elliot sat alone at the table, the dim light above casting long shadows across the room. The walls were lined with notes, messy scribbles, string, chaos organized by a desperate heart.

With a quiet flick, he lit a cigarette.

He had sworn never to smoke again.

The bitterness hit his lungs instantly, sharp and familiar. He coughed once but didn't stop. The smoke curled upward like ghostly fingers, dissolving in the air. It wasn't about the cigarette. Not really. It was about this moment, the stillness, the weight, the silence that whispered things he didn’t want to hear.

Elliot leaned back, eyes tired but burning with resolve. He stretched out his hand toward the pile of papers on the table.

He had a mission.

A secret one.

One he never told his friends about, not Sean, not Richard, not even Samantha. He kept it buried beneath jokes and casual smiles. But deep down, he knew: The Spectre will drag another innocent soul or those who’s trying to figuring out its existence, it’ll pull them into its cruel entertainment

Elliot afraid if he let them dig deep into it

Spectre would drag them in there

More people would suffer.

Maybe forever.

He reached for his notes, weeks' worth of scribbles and strategies. Some pages were crumpled from frustration, others neatly folded with corner markings and paperclips. Among the clutter, he pulled out a few particular sheets, the most promising ones.

Spectre, despite being a god, or something beyond that, , do afraid to face a certain people, the most noticeable is Dusekkar

Elliot tapped his pencil against his temple.

But I can’t assume with only Dusekkar’s true power could push it through, perchance Spectre only afraid of Dusekkar is because Dusekkar could cause more than minor injuries to it but not enough to kill it, maybe it’s the reason why Spectre stubbornly kidnap Dusekkar here

It made sense, in a way. No one liked picking a fight they knew they couldn’t win. And Spectre, cruel as it was, wasn’t reckless. Maybe Dusekkar could hurt it. Not kill, but maim. Cripple. Force it to retreat. Maybe that’s why Spectre after kidnap Dusekkar, It’s nerfed his power down heavily.

If Shedletsky got his original powers back… well Elliot remembers the ex-admin is also used to be a god name…what was his name? Doraemon? No, no- Tele-something… Telephone?

He paused, blinking.

“God, that’s a terrible name,” he muttered.

Still, there was something there. Shedletsky, in his prime, was powerful. So was Builderman. If Builderman had his Banhammer…

Elliot leaned forward, scribbling furiously now.

“Plan A: Take the Banhammer from Builderman’s office in the Roblox HQ. Deliver it to Builderman. Restore admin-level combat capability.”

His pencil stilled.

He stared at the words.

Break into Roblox HQ? He might as well write “rob a bank with a plastic spoon.” After Builderman vanished, the place was probably on lockdown. But it was the best lead he had. The Banhammer could change everything. He just had to get it.

And as for alerting the other admins? Reaching even one of them was a miracle in itself. What were the chances they’d believe some pizza boy ranting about cosmic kidnappings?

No. He couldn’t risk telling them. Not yet.

Too many moving parts. Too many chances to slip.

Small steps first.

Elliot nodded to himself. Slowly. Like convincing his body to catch up with his brain.

He pinned the plan to the board, a massive corkboard covered in paper and hope. Right at the top, he placed it above the others:

“OPERATION: BANHAMMER”

The name was dumb. Kind of dramatic. But it made him smile.

For the first time in days, he felt proud.

He wasn’t useless. He wasn’t stuck. He had made progress, real progress. It was a spark in the dark, but it was his.

And tomorrow, he’d figure out the rest. That’s his tomorrow you problem

Tonight, he’d rest.

He stood, stretched his sore back, and shuffled to his bed. The blanket welcomed him like an old friend, warm and worn and full of memories. His head sank into the pillow as the cigarette burned out in a glass tray beside the table.

Above, the moon was watching, bright, gentle, quiet.

Elliot looked up through the window, letting the silver glow wash over his face.

And he smiled.

There was a dream waiting for him tonight, a dream of his friends together again. Of laughter. Of healing. Of light. It felt distant, still out of reach… but not impossible. Not anymore.

He was getting closer.

He could feel it.

How long it would take? He didn’t know.

But for now, that didn’t matter.

Sleep wrapped around him like the arms of someone he missed, and before he could think another thought

He had fallen asleep.

-

-

[Until tomorrow, Elliot]

Notes:

4963 words
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Incase ppl don't know, yes, I purposefully let Elliot call Taph as 'Tape'

I'm still conflicted between choosing pizzaburger and freshpizza (ElliotxNoob) or I'd just choose not ship Elliot with anyone, any suggestion?

Also wanna vote if I should make the next chapter serious or silly willy? The two ideas is torturing me, I don't think it'll be good if I just write serious stuff then silly willy, it looks so unnatural and wonky in my imagination

Chapter 9: Woe To The Survivors

Summary:

"Misguided" means means having or showing poor judgment or being led by wrong or mistaken ideas. It usually describes actions or beliefs that are well-intentioned but based on incorrect reasoning, emotions, or influences.

Notes:

Divorce, beheaded and die!
Drama, delayed and cry!
they are the Forsaken devs, they have a bunch of leaks
some might say they never released Noli! (get it get it? that one Henry the eighth song)

also since I didn't mention how Builderman divide the group:
Planet Voss bug: Chance, Two Time, Dusekkar and 007n7
Spectre investigation: Guest 1337, Noob, Builderman, Taph, Shedletsky

Chapter 9: Woe To The Survivors

Brandon6875935’s Place was one of the friendliest map as this place declare no threats towards the survivors beside the killer chasing them around, but tonight it felt especially cruel.

The castle walls, loomed like gravestones under a blood-smeared sky. Lightning cracked in the distance, but the thunder never came. Just silence.

“Hey…” Guest’s voice broke through the tense static of thought. “Do you think we’re choosing the right path for this? I mean… our plan?”

Builderman didn’t answer immediately. The admin knelt beside a stone wall, his dispenser humming low, barely audible over the wind. Guest sat beside him, nursing a deep gash in his side, lucky to have escaped John Doe’s grip with all limbs intact. The wound sizzled, skin trying to knit itself shut, but the dispenser's healing was sluggish, incomplete, thou it was a lifesaver to be honest. But It didn’t work like Elliot’s pizza. Nothing did.

Without Elliot, most of their plans collapsed.

Their tactics were crumbling. survivors or sentinels mostly struggle to keep themselves clutched a match, most of their plans have to get reworked as Elliot played too much of an important role to them, the admin’s dispenser can’t provide instant heal on field. The Spectre had stripped the game of mercy. Now it was a slaughterhouse.

And Builderman knew, knew in his bones, that this wasn’t a coincidence.

Elliot’s disappearance was either an accident or a trigger. Since then, everything devolved.

The admin hesitated, lips twitching, and wordlessly deployed a sentry. His hands moved on their own, hammer striking steel in a dull rhythm, but his mind was far from the turret. He didn’t even realize he’d been hammering the same bolt for five minutes straight.

The Spectre wasn’t playing games anymore.

Killers had grown feral, twisted beyond their original codes. Suddenly become more aggressive and brutal. Deaths came quicker, more grotesque. Limbs torn off, heads twisted backward, jaws unhinged like broken dolls. each matches felt like a torture chamber these days.

Even the survivors were starting to…well. Gets nerfed

Guest’s punch, supposed to stagger enemies, had once sent a few killers flying. Now? It could accidentally shatter another survivor’s ribs if aimed wrong. Chance’s “World’s Most Trustworthy Gun” sometimes backfired and blew off the user’s hand. Literally. Flesh exploded in red shards.

Shedletsky, still trying to be the cheerful, had begun healing less with his chicken leg. “It’s a miracle it even works” Builderman thought bitterly. The way things were going, The Spectre might revoke that blessing any moment now and remove the chicken’s healing ability.

Noob? Poor kid once tried to boost morale with soda concoctions. One sip too much, and his heart ruptured on the spot, body convulsing, eyes rolling up, then he just dropped. Not even a death animation. Just… collapse.

007n7? For some reason, untouched. The Spectre seemed disinterested in the ex-exploiter. Maybe it had bigger targets. Maybe it had plans.

Two Time-

“Builder?” Guest’s voice again. It broke through the haze.

Builderman snapped out of his trance, hammer dropping with a loud clang.

“Oh- uh, yeah?”

“You lost focus again, didn’t you?” Guest raised an eyebrow, his tone unreadable.

The admin chuckled nervously. “...Yeah.”

Silence.

Guest stared at him, expression as unreadable as always stern, composed, like stone. In every match, Guest had been the steady force, the unbreakable shield, always watching their backs. He trusted Guest. The kind of trust you earned after watching someone drag dying teammates to safety while bleeding out themselves.

Builderman slumped to the floor. His whole body sagged, shoulders folding inward like a collapsing structure. He shut his eyes.

“Things’ve been kinda stressful lately…” he admitted, voice hoarse.

Guest didn’t answer right away. Instead, he sat down beside him, inching just a little closer, like he was worried the admin might fold into pieces.

“Most of our plans just got totally wrecked when Elliot disappeared,” Builderman muttered. “Suddenly, everything’s hostile. Everyone’s scared. And worse, we’ve got no damn clue where Elliot went. No leads, no signs. Not even a breadcrumb. I think we pissed off Detective Iris too, yeah, the one person who might’ve helped. And- and-”

His voice cracked, and the words fell away into a long, guttural groan. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore…”

Guest placed his hand on Builderman’s shoulder.

“Listen up. You’re under pressure. I get it, it’s written all over you. But hear me out”

His voice wasn’t soft, but it carried something gentler. Steel, wrapped in care.

“I know we can pull through this. Deep down, I know it. We’ve come too far to fall apart now. You’ve got to hold the line. Stay strong always stay strong. That’s what my old man drilled into me. He never cracked under fire. Neither will we”

“…I’ll remember it,” Builderman whispered.

“…I hope.”

Silence again.

Then-

“Maybe once we get out of here,” Guest smirked faintly, “we could finally work on your height, huh? 4’9 dwarf.”

“Oh shush it!” Builderman barked out a laugh, elbowing him.

A rare flicker of warmth passed between them.

But it didn’t last.

Guest stood suddenly, gaze locking toward another area far away from the castle. His muscles tensed, fingers twitching toward his belt. His instincts were acting up, tightened breath, a prickling spine. Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Builderman didn’t need to ask. He knew that look.

“John Doe’s close?” he asked quietly.

Guest nodded once, jaw clenched. Guest used to be at war before got Forsakned, always on high alert, he soon developed an instinct of sensing danger. He began walking toward, toward the unease. Builderman turned back to the sentry, gave it a final check, then picked up his hammer.

“Sentry’s good to go,” he said, not bothering to look up. “I’ll check out the others. You bring whoever’s causing it back here. If things go sideways…”

“I’ll be fine” Guest didn’t look back, only raised a hand as acknowledgment.

As Builderman slipped away, Guest pressed forward.

The silence deepened.

Leaves crunched beneath his boots. The wind died.

And then, he felt it.

Something was wrong with John Doe.

His movement had become… unnatural. Twitchy. Limbs bending at angles that broke model logic. The killer was faster now, too fast. Maybe it was the corruption. Maybe it had evolved. Adapted. Found newer, worse ways to kill.

Guest’s gut twisted as he crept forward, hands clenched.

They hadn’t faced John Doe since before the changes. Not since The Spectre rewrote the rules.

Not since Elliot vanished.

.

.

CRACK…

It started low. A guttural tremor deep beneath the earth, like something ancient had just awakened. The ground beneath Guest's feet shivered. The air thickened. Then…

FWSSH-CRACK-CLANG!

The world screamed.

From the ruptured ground, steel-like spikes tore upward, shrieking as they clawed through dirt and flesh alike, dragging soil, and the memory of screams, with them. They exploded upward like the ribs of some buried god, rusted and hungry. Guest leapt back just in time, instincts razor-sharp. He didn’t breathe. He didn’t blink. He didn’t dare.

John Doe was coming.

And so was the distractor.

Guest’s eyes locked ahead, past the spike-littered field, past the roiling dust, and there he saw them: Noob. Blood-soaked, staggering, sobbing into their sleeve. Their left hand clutched their right bicep, trying in vain to dam the crimson river pulsing from it. their face twisted in pain and panic as they scrambled across the ground like a broken puppet, all jerks and desperation.

And right behind them-

John Doe

A monstrosity of madness, cloaked in shadow and soaked in old blood. His claws scraped the air as he chased Noob like a starving beast. In his breath there was a growl, not loud, but guttural, low, like a funeral dirge rattling through iron lungs.

“G-GU-EST!- HELP-HELP MEEE!” Noob choked, their voice cracking like dry leaves beneath a boot. The terror in it raw, human, doomed, slashed through Guest like a blade

Guest ran. He ran like a demon, feet thudding like war drums, heart already breaking as he saw John Doe raise an arm for the kill

SSSKT.
A whisper of air, just a hair’s breadth from Noob’s neck. John Doe’s claws sliced through the void, close enough to sting with their wind. He missed by inches. He wouldn’t again

Noob reached out for Guest, fingers twitching, trembling, slick with blood.

“MOVE! GET TO THE CASTLE, THE SENTRY’S THERE- GO NOW!” Guest roared, throat raw. His soul screamed. He couldn't let it happen again

 

Not again

 

He’d left them, his wife Daisy and their precious daughter Charlotte, left them behind when the war starts. Left them to fend for themselves

 

He would not leave Noob

 

Not this one. Not today

 

Guest crashed into John Doe like a battering ram, shoulder-first. Flesh met flesh. Bone met bone. The impact sent John Doe skidding back a few feet, claws gouging trenches in the dirt, hissing like a beast cornered. It wasn’t much. But it was something

John Doe snarled. He reared back, eyes glinting in the red dusk, and-

FWSSH. Too late

Guest blocked it

Flesh tore. Something popped in his shoulder. Pain bloomed like wildfire. But he didn’t care. Didn’t stop. Didn’t even grunt. His punch has charged up

John Doe lunged again. Guest dodged like a shadow, barely a breath ahead. But the killer pivoted, faster than a corpse should, and bolted toward Noob once more. The original target

Guest gave chase, his boots hammering the stone like gunfire

Noob had made it to the castle’s base. They were trying, trying, to climb, dragging themself up the incline with one hand, the other still gushing blood like a severed faucet. Every step smeared a trail behind them, a breadcrumb path for the hunter

John Doe snarled, claws twitching mid-air. He staggered, hunched over like a broken marionette. Then-

His head jerked

His eyes locked onto the sound: a wheezing sob. Barely a whimper

Noob

They had collapsed just yards away, fingers clawing at the jagged stone in a fruitless attempt to crawl. Blood painted a glistening trail behind him, stark and red against the gray

That was all it took

John Doe turned. And he sprinted

It was unnatural. Inhuman. The way he moved, like someone had wound his body too tight and let it snap loose. Limbs flailing with horrific speed, torso twisted just slightly wrong

“NO!” Guest screamed after him and gave chase

But John Doe was fast

And Noob, barely conscious, could do nothing but crawl

They dragged their body forward, elbow by elbow, every motion jerky and wet. their legs wouldn’t respond, dead weight behind them. The blood loss had made their arms weak, their head heavy. they blinked hard, once, twice, trying to see through the blur, through the tears

They could hear the footsteps now. Heavy. Metallic. Wrong

Clack. Clack. CLACK.

Getting closer.

Noob sobbed. “P-please…”

They looked back.

 

John Doe was only a few feet away

 

Noob threw Themself forward, scraping their palms raw on the jagged stone. They screamed. Their body screamed louder. Muscles tore. Veins bulged. But they kept moving.

Ahead. The castle.

The slope was steep, hard to get up the top, but it was their only hope.

“Come on, come on…” they whimpered, pulling themself up “Not like this. Not like this…”

John Doe roars, a high, warped, digital scream that echoed like corrupted data across the plains. It pierced the sky. It pierced the soul.

Then-

He leapt

Noob rolled

John Doe landed where their head had just been, claws slashing sparks from the stone. Noob tumbled forward, flailing. Their face slammed into the wall. They rebounded, coughed blood, spat teeth

But they didn’t stop. They reached for a grip

Behind Them, John Doe began to rushing toward them

Not like a human. It’s more wild-like. His claws dug into cracks, his arms and legs moving independently, fast, almost fluid. Like his bones had no rules.

Noob scrambled up a few feet more

A claw scraped their heel, they kicked

It hit something. John Doe hissed and faltered

A moment gained

They used it. They pulled, slipped, recovered, continue. Their vision tunneled, his limbs burned, they had nothing left, but still, they climbed

Above, the castle wall came into view. Jagged stone. Maybe a ledge. Maybe safety

And then-

SSSKT

A whisper of movement behind them

Noob looked down just as John Doe lunged again, higher this time, claws extended like black scythes

One swipe tore across Noob’s calf. A deep, wet gash

They screamed, lost grip, slid backward

Caught themself, barely.

John Doe shrieked, maddened. They both continue their cat and mouse chase to the top if the castle

Then, just right then John Doe almost catch up with Noob

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Gunfire rained down. The sentry.

Bullets pinged off the stone, struck John Doe’s arm. One hit his shoulder

The killer recoiled, eyes snapping toward the turret, and for a second, a second, he froze.

Noob didn’t waste it.

With the last of his strength, they lunged for the ledge. Their fingers caught the edge. Their muscles tore from the inside. Pain blinded them. But they held on

John Doe screamed in rage, claws swinging wildly, trying to snatch their foot

Noob kicked, once, twice until they felt something crack under his foot

Then-

Guest appeared

From behind, flying down the incline like an avalanche of fury. He tackled John Doe once more, shoulder to back, knocking the monster off balance, slamming him into the wall.

The impact echoed

John Doe staggered, roared

And turned back to face him

Noob’s breath hitched. Their vision blurred. Their legs wobbled, and then gave out completely

They fell

Collapsed to Their knees, gasping, pale as wax. Their body gave up. Muscles failed. Their mouth opened but no sound came out. They dragged themself forward, leaving streaks of red behind them, eyes unfocused, lips trembling

And still, they crawled. They wanted to live

Guest sprinted. His body was burning, lungs acid, limbs lead. He saw Noob going still. Saw John Doe also coming straight for the poor boy.

Saw the end.

He reached out-

FWSSH-CLANG!

A fresh row of spikes erupted between them like a wall of knives. Guest slammed into them. He screamed

“NOOB!”

Noob turned, wide-eyed and broken. They slapped weakly at the spike-wall. “G-GUEST- P-please-” they whimpered, voice warbling like a drowning child

Guest gripped the spikes. He tried to climb. Tried to find a gap. There was none. Nothing but serrated death. He backed up, eyes darting for another path, but every second he hesitated was a second Noob lost

“Please, please,” Noob sobbed “I don’t…wanna…die…”

And then-

SHLUK.

A grotesque sound, like meat splitting.

John Doe’s claw plunged into Noob’s neck

A wet crack, then a bubbling gurgle

Noob’s body jerked. Blood geysered from the wound, splashing across the stone. Their mouth opened wide, too wide, like they was trying to scream but forgot how. Their eyes rolled. Hands fluttered. They slumped

Guest roared, leapt over the spike line, not caring if he got impaled. Landed hard, knees shattering on stone, and charged

Just as John Doe raised his corrupted arm up-

CRACK

Guest use his punch, fist slammed into John Doe’s face, sending the killer staggering

John Doe reeled, stunned. He twitched, and paused

Instinct

Something else had triggered one of his traps

He turned

Builderman

The admin groaned nearby, having tripped on one of John Doe’s digital footprint, with Taph at his side, look around cautiously, fearing the killer will come at any moment

Assume Noob will die later anyways, John Doe hissed, and bolted toward his new prey

Guest didn’t care.

He dropped beside Noob, his hand soaked the instant he touched them

“Noob- NOOB- stay with me!” he barked. His voice broke

The blood. There was so much. Guest ripped Noob’s hoodie open, tore a strip, packed the wound. Blood fountained over his hands

“Noob, pressure- hold it! Please!” His voice shook. His hands pressed into the wound so deep he felt the torn muscle twitch

Noob gasped. Their body spasmed. Thier eyes fluttered

“I d-don’t…wanna…d-die…” they wheezed. Blood bubbled from his lips

“I know, kid. I know. Just stay awake. Look at me”

“…”

“…wh-at…a-are we…in…hell…f-for…?”

Tears carved lines through the grime on Noob’s cheeks. They were crying. It broke Guest like nothing else ever had. He pulled Noob into his arms. Held them tight

There was no dispenser. No medkit. No time

There was just this- this dying, scared kid, and the soldier who couldn't save them

Guest rocked them gently, through the bone-cold stone, the distant gunfire, the dying sky

The yellow Robloxian closed their eyes

And Guest held them there, whispering promises he couldn’t keep, trembling like the child he once was, as the horror of survival marched on without mercy

-

Guest blinked.

Everything hurt.

His body felt like it had been crushed under stone and stitched back together with broken glass. He raised his hand and immediately regretted it—white-hot pain screamed from his shoulder, arcing down his arm like fire in his veins. Blood still oozed from half-closed wounds, dried in clots that cracked when he moved.

He looked down.

Noob lay still.

Slack-jawed. Eyes half-lidded. Their small, battered frame cradled loosely in Guest’s lap like a doll dropped in a warzone. Blood had soaked into Guest’s military clothes, his hand, and the floor beneath them. It was still warm.

But there was no pulse.

No more twitching fingers. No wheezing breath. Just the grotesque quiet of a death that came too slowly.

Guest sighed, low and long, like his soul had been trying to leave his body for hours. He rubbed at his face with a shaky hand, smearing dirt and blood across his cheek. There were no tears left. Just guilt.

Gently- too gently, he laid Noob’s corpse down on the cold stone floor

“I’m sorry” he murmured. “You should’ve made it”

He rose. Every joint screamed. His knees nearly buckled from stiffness, but he caught himself. The world tilted at the edges. He couldn’t tell how long he’d been sitting there, minutes? Hours? The match clock still ticked, and his team still fought somewhere in the distance.

He couldn’t stay. Not here.

Another second wasted was another life lost.

He took one last look at Noob’s body.

Then turned.

Tap-tap-tap-

Footsteps skittered up the stairs behind him, light but fast. Guest reached instinctively for his sidearm, but stopped when he saw who it was.

Taph

Somehow still alive. Still moving. Dirty, but not torn to ribbons. His robe was soaked in sweat and grime, his face grimy, but he looked- thank god, unscathed.

Taph run toward. He skidded to a halt at the sight of Guest, then started signing frantically.

“------! -------! -------- ---- ---! (Guest! Guest! There you are!)”
“------------ -- -----! ------- -------- --- --- - - ---------- -----! (Builderman is being chased! Shedletsky told me to give you the medkit and tell you to help him!)”

Guest just stood there for a second, his battered brain processing the flood of movement, information.

Taph shoved the medkit into his chest

Right. He looked down at it

Useful. Too late

If he’d had it earlier… Maybe…

Guest swallowed the thought. No time for grief. Not now

“Alright, mate,” he grunted, voice rough. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just gotta patch up.”

He opened the medkit.

Antiseptic. Gauze. Adrenal stim. Enough to function, not enough to make the pain go away.

He dropped to one knee and ripped the sleeve of his clothes, revealing purple-black bruising and two deep gouges on his upper arm, John Doe’s doing. The claws had missed bone but not by much. Guest poured the antiseptic without flinching. The liquid hissed and bubbled as it hit the wound.

He gritted his teeth. Didn’t scream. Didn’t deserve to.

The bandages were fast, efficient. Muscle memory. Every time he tightened a wrap, his eyes flicked toward Noob’s corpse.

Too slow.

Always too slow.

Taph, meanwhile, sat down on the floor to rest, watching. He was trying to breathe slowly, trying to calm down. His fingers twitched restlessly. The tension in his shoulders told Guest everything, he didn’t want to sit. But he had to. There was still a fight ahead. He’d save his energy for Builderman, after all, that’s what a right-handed man should do.

Guest closed the medkit with a snap and stood up again.

His body ached. His vision swam for a second. But it was good enough.

He looked at Taph. “Where was he last seen?”

Taph pointed at somewhere far away from the castle. Then signed

“----- --------- ------ ------- ----- --------. ---- ----------- ----- -- --- -- ---- ----- (One of the structures from Chair Brick Battle. They probably moved to the toy area by this time)”

 

There’s Shedletsky aiding him, maybe things won’t be that bad

 

He just hopes he arrived in time

 

Guest gave a small nod, then turned toward the steep.

As Guest leaving the castle with Taph, he glanced back at Noob one last time.

So small.

So still.

“...I’ll make it count”

Then he walked into the dark, ready to face John Doe again.

-

“Builder! Duck down!”
Shedletsky’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
Builderman dropped- just in time

Shedletsky lunged, his sword a silver streak through the air-

Missed

John Doe slipped by the arc of the blade, his movements jerky and unnatural, almost twitchy, like a puppet being pulled by too many strings at once. His face twisted into something grotesque and almost smiling as he darted forward again.

Shedletsky’s heart slammed in his chest. Running into John Doe now, with cooldowns and he missed his swing, Builderman can’t just build a sentry mid-chase.

He'd found a medkit earlier, small miracle but Builderman was getting hammered, no time to patch up. He made a split-second call: hand it off to Taph, trust him to get it to Guest 1337.

Shedletsky stayed. Someone had help Builder.

“Shed- HELP! I’m outta stam!-”

Oh no.
Oh no.

He turned, grabbing Builderman’s wrist. “Move, now!-”

FWSSH-CLANG!

A sudden eruption of spikes burst from the ground like jagged fangs. One punched clean through Builderman’s forearm.

“GHH- AAARGH!”

The scream cut through Shedletsky’s soul. He dropped to his knees, trying to wrench Builderman free

Futile struggle

Pulling just tore him up worse. Blood sprayed onto his hand. The spike groaned beneath their weight.

John Doe stepped behind them.

Shedletsky turned.

Too late

John Doe grabbed Builderman’s head, both hands cradling it like a child’s toy.

CRACK—POP!

“AAAAHHH!-”

The sound was unreal. Like thick wood snapping in a snowstorm. Then a wet, grinding SKRRRCH as skin tore, tendons split, and vertebrae buckled. Blood geysered from Builderman’s mouth as his scream gurgled off into a trembling death rattle.

John Doe ripped him off the spike in one brutal yank.

“BUILDERMAN!”

Shedletsky slid over the spikes, reaching, screaming, but John Doe threw Builderman into the stone like trash.

A wet thud.
Builderman hit face-first.

He tasted dirt. Blood. Stone.
His lips cracked open. A tooth fell loose.

His brain screamed at him to run, fight, but his arms wouldn’t move. Both mangled. His jaw hung wrong.

Behind him, footsteps.
John Doe

The world spun.

John Doe raised one foot

CRACK.

Builderman’s jaw folded like paper. The sound was like bone shattering under a sledgehammer. His scream died in his throat, nothing but a wet choke, blood bubbling up and leaking from his split gums and torn cheeks.

He didn’t see the final blow. Best not to-

SMASH

John Doe’s corrupted arm strikes through his skull.
Bone. Brain. Gone.

Builderman’s body jerked, then went limp.

Blood splashed Shedletsky’s shirt in a hot rush, soaking him instantly. He reached again, trembling, eyes wide, but John Doe simply shoved him away like a ragdoll.

The killer stood.
Breathing steady. Blank stare.
Two down.

Three more to go.

And now, he turned.

His eyes locked onto Shedletsky.

And Shedletsky ran

His boots slammed the ground, lungs heaving. Behind him, footsteps followed. Fast, wild.

John Doe was behind him. Hot on his heels

He spun, his slash is ready, he swing

MISS

John Doe kept coming.

SLASH
and he got punished by earning a slash from the killer, oh curse this, why he always miss his swing…

Shedletsky runs aimlessly, tripped down onto the ground, screamed then kept going.

He could hear John Doe behind him. Just a few step away from reaching him

Shedletsky burst from the other side of the duct, barely conscious, and saw

Guest

Just ahead. Bandaged

Their eyes met.

“HELP-” Shedletsky gasped, tumbling toward him, voice hoarse. As John Doe lunged forward the two, Guest pull Shedletsky closer, and-

BOOM

John Doe hissed, Taph had placed a Tripmine earlier, temporary blinded John Doe

“Run now! Taph’s Tripmine can’t stun him” Shedletsky snapped upon hearing Guest urge him to run, he silently nod

-

-

[Round Ended! Survivors Win!]

It was brutal.

Shedletsky slumped into a wooden chair, drenched in sweat, wheezing like he’d just sprinted through hell- well actually he kinda did.
“Oh god… that was sweaty…” he gasped, dragging a shaky hand across his face.

“Matches these days” Builderman muttered as he walked in, still feel a bit shaken by the way John Doe kill him “killers are getting more brutal…”

“Damn, you guys look beaten up” Chance whistled low, flipping his coin with a smirk. “John Doe really went rough, huh?”

“Easy for you to say, Chance” Guest grunted, popping his sore shoulder back into place. “So, how’s the bug thing going?”

Chance frowned. The coin landed on tails again. Damn.

“Not much to say. We’ve got no leads. The Spectre shut down Planet Voss and refuses to let us in. No matter how many matches we queue into… it never shows up.”

That made the room fall quiet.

Shedletsky gave a sympathetic pat to Chance’s shoulder. “We haven’t made progress either. There’s barely any hints for us to investigate about The Spectre”

“Eh.” Chance shrugged, stuffing his coin into his pocket. “I’m heading back to Dusekkar. Bud’s probably the smartest in our crew, still doubt pumpkin-head guy figured anything out though, still It’s good that you guys are doing fine, I have no idea why I even came here visiting you instead of being productive and help my team, anyways, I should get going”

He waved and walked off, soon out of sight.

The group exchanged tired glances.

Builderman sighed,
“At this rate, we might never figure it out. Got any ideas? Anything at all connected to the Spectre?”

“Uh... I know it dislikes Guest for some reason?” Shedletsky pointed at Guest.

“It literally yanked Dusekkar’s whole house here just to kidnap Dusekkar to its realm?” Noob added

“It made Elliot’s room smell like burnt toast” Shedletsky said, earning confused looks.

“Wait, what?”

“I’m serious! Back when Elliot was still around, his room always smelled like burnt toast or scorched wires. He’s not that careless, so I bet it was the Spectre screwing with him, maybe out of spite”

Everyone went quiet at the mention of Elliot.

“...Yeah,” Builderman muttered, rubbing his arm. Then, switching the topic, “Anything else???”

“Maybe the Spectre stole Chance’s Hello Kitty pants?” Guest deadpanned.

Shedletsky and Noob burst out laughing, sounding like broken teapots, Taph lay down on the floor, shaking.

“You serious?” Builderman gawked. “That’s the dumbest-”

“No, no! Chance told me he got them because they were limited edition. Wore them to ‘preserve value’ or something. Then they disappeared overnight. He blamed the Spectre.”

Builderman stared at him like he was trying to decipher ancient runes.

Taph, quiet until now, signed:
“--- --- --- --- ---------- ------ ---- -----------….---- --- ---.--- ---- (He’s the one who blocked John Doe’s memory… like how Mrs. Doe said)”

Wait

Hold on

That made Builderman’s eyes go wide.

“OH RIGHT! At the start of every John Doe cutscene when a match begins, what was that line again?!”

“Something like… ‘They’re all yours, Mr. Doe’?”

“YES! THAT’S IT!” Builderman shouted, pacing in excitement.
“I’m telling you, that voice? It’s the Spectre. It has to be! John Doe can’t talk, right? It must be the Spectre trying to control or corrupted John Doe’s mind!”

They all froze. Eyes widening.
It clicked.

“You’re actually right, Build…” Shedletsky whispered.

“Okay, so now what?” Noob asked. “We figured out John Doe’s being manipulated by the Spectre… but what do we do with that?”

“Easy” Builderman said. “If John Doe’s been contacted by the Spectre… maybe we can get him to split out some information about The Spectre”

Guest raised an eyebrow. “And how’re we supposed to convince the guy who just caved your skull in to have a chat?”

Everyone fell silent.

Taph signed again, slowly:
“------ …--- ---.---? ---- --- ----. --- ------- ---- -- --- (Maybe… ask Mrs. Doe? She’s his wife. She could talk to him)”

The idea hung in the air like thunder waiting to break.

“…You sure it’s okay to involve Jane in ‘games’ like this?” Guest asked quietly, genuine concern on his face

“We ask” Builderman said. “She deserves a choice.”

Everyone nodded.

No more jokes. No more laughter.

They stepped out together beneath the pitch-black sky, heading toward Jane Doe’s cabin

-

-

-

The room was quiet, save for the soft hiss of the firewood crackling in the hearth. Shadows from the dancing flames flickered across the wooden walls of the cabin. Outside, the world was swallowed by pitch blackness, Spectre's influence, lingering like a veil over everything they did.

Jane Doe sat with an air of composed stillness, hands delicately holding a steaming teacup as she regarded the group gathered in her living room. Guest, Builderman, Noob, Shedletsky, and Taph were all squeezed together on the worn sofa and floor.

“Let me get this straight” Jane said, her voice barely above a whisper but firm with clarity “Your friend, Elliot I assume has gone missing. And you believe it’s the Spectre’s doing”

“Yes,” Guest replied, voice low.

“And now you’re hoping… through John- through my husband, you might be able to reach the Spectre. Get information about it. Understand it?”

“That’s what we’re hoping for” Builderman said. His hands were clasped tightly in front of him, knuckles white.

Jane took another sip of her tea, her movements slow and deliberate. “And you came to me because I’m the only one who can reach him. That I can gotten through. Even when he’s like that”

There was no need to clarify what like that meant. The monstrous, corrupted form of John Doe. The twisted thing the Spectre had made of him.

“You’re the only one we all know he would be hesitating to kill” Shedletsky said, his voice quiet now

Silence fell again.

“I won’t lie to you” Builderman said at last “We’re not asking you to walk into something safe. You’ve seen how matches are like lately. And even if you go in… there’s no guarantee you’ll see him, we might have to face much more rounds until we meet your husband”

Jane didn’t respond immediately. She simply looked down into her tea, eyes glassy. Her thumb rubbed the porcelain edge

For a moment, no one dared speaks

Then

“I’ll go.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t hesitation. It was the quiet kind of resolve that leaves a weight in the air.

“Wait- what?” Noob looked up, startled.

“I said I’ll go,” she repeated, louder this time, her voice steady. “I accept”

“But… Mrs. Doe, are you sure?” Guest asked, alarmed now “We came here to ask, not pressure you-”

“You’re not pressuring me,” Jane interrupted gently “And John... he’s not innocent, but he’s not free either. He’s under Spectre- inside whatever that thing is now, there’s still a piece of him. My husband. The man I loved”

Her voice didn’t waver, but there was a crack just beneath the surface, a grief too deep to show. She set the cup down with a soft clink.

“If there’s even the faintest echo of him still in there… then I have to try”

The group sat in stunned silence. Even Guest looked briefly shaken. The firelight flickered against the grim expressions of everyone in the room.

“Do you… hate him? For what he’s become?” Builderman finally asked, softly.

Jane didn’t answer right away.

“I hate what was done to him” she said. “But I could never hate John. Not truly. That’s why I can’t keep sitting here, pretending everything around me isn’t falling apart outside my door. If I have to walk through fire to bring him back… or even just speak to him one last time… I will.”

There was a beat. Then Noob stood up abruptly.

“Well- that’s it then! Let’s not waste her time! Come on, Taph! Shedletsky! We should call it a day” they said too quickly, yanking the other two up with them in a comically panicked frenzy. They practically shoved them out the door, their nervous energy clashing awkwardly with the somber tone of the moment.

The cabin door creaked shut behind them, leaving only Jane, Guest, and Builderman in the silence.

“…He means well” Builderman said, trying to smile but failing.

Jane gave a soft laugh, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “They all do. That’s why you’re still here”

Guest shifted, then looked at her directly. “We’ll do everything we can to keep you safe in the match. But it won’t be easy”

“I’m not asking for easy,” Jane replied. “I just want the chance. That’s all.”

Builderman nodded slowly. “Then we’ll start preparations. We’ll do this carefully. No mistakes”

Jane nodded back, folding her hands in her lap.

Outside, the night whispered against the windowpanes, and the fire cracked again, casting shadows that danced like ghosts on the walls.

-

-

-

 

Notes:

5665 words
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fun fact: originally this chapter was named "Old Married Couple Drama", mostly around Jane and John Doe, but author being a man he is he didn't (it's actually bc I think the story is moving too fast)

Chapter 10: That’s Vandalism!

Summary:

"Vandalism" refers to the deliberate and intentional act of damaging, destroying, or defacing property that does not belong to the person committing the act. This can include graffiti, damaging vehicles, or any other form of property destruction done without permission

Notes:

"Yey! I'm gonna write a silly willy chap! Surely it'll be around 3000-4500 words as usual!! I'm gonna write around 3000 words!"
-Author of this fic's last words

also, also, guys! guys! Guess who reached lv 100 Taph and lv 100 Elliot
I'm gonna maxed out my lv 49 Dusekkar and lv 43 Builderman next >:)

Chapter 10: That’s Vandalism!

Another day, another questionable paycheck

The day had gone by... peacefully, surprisingly. Customers came and went like tumbleweeds in a western movie, and Sean even managed to sneak in a quick power nap in the kitchen without Samantha throwing a spatula at his head. A true win for him
Of course, "peaceful" was a relative term, because somewhere between lunchtime and the Great Mozzarella Meltdown, Luke and Richard had somehow ended up in the manager’s office. The reason? Attempted kitchen arson by way of- wait for it, throwing a sealed soda can into the oven to “see what happens”

Elliot had no words
He just silently clapped his hands together in a solemn prayer
Not for the explosion. Not for the oven.
But for Luke and Richard, because if the manager didn’t cut their pay again, Samantha would. And hers came wrapped in smiles and sugar-coated death threats delivered with all the loving tone of a concerned friend
The kind of “friend talk” that ended with you questioning your entire life and wondering if you really did deserve to get vaporized over a can of root beer.

The afternoon sun spilled through the front windows as Elliot sprawled dramatically across the front counter, watching customers filter in and out. His eyes drifted lazily to the side, where Cody manned the register. Alone. Competently. With zero flames
Elliot’s heart swelled with pride
Cody, the same kid who once mistook soda for floor cleaner, was now taking orders like a pro. Handling picky customers with ease. Taming hyperactive children with the grace of a seasoned babysitter. Elliot smiled like a proud parent watching his son graduate from the School of Pizza and Suffering

“Yo! Ell, I think the delivery orders are stacked high enough to qualify as a safety hazard!” Sean’s voice called from the kitchen. He popped his head out, wearing an apron so covered in flour he looked like a ghost who’d just lost a baking competition

Elliot rolled off the counter like a log and stretched

“Yeah, I got it,” he said, cracking his back with a satisfying pop
He peeked into the kitchen and noticed only Sean and Samantha inside

“Luke and Richard still in the office?”

Sean shrugged, wiping his hands on his apron, which did absolutely nothing

“Yup. Thirty minutes and counting. I boxed five pepperonis and two cheese only and didn’t hear a peep. Either the manager’s gone deaf or they’re trying to form a cult in there”

“Let’s just hope it’s not another ‘save humanity’ thing again” Elliot grimaced

“Last time they tried that, we had glitter in the sauce for a week” Sean muttered, already turning back toward Samantha, who was threatening a pepperoni slice for not being symmetrical enough.

With a wave to Cody, who gave a confident thumbs-up mid-order, Elliot grabbed his delivery list, adjusted his visor, and headed to the delivery station with a little whistle.

That whistle died a violent death when the manager's voice suddenly exploded through the wall like a banshee on fire:

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU BLEW UP THE DAMN SODA FOR ‘HUMANITY’S FUTURE’? DO YOU MEAN ITS FUTURE OR ITS APOCALYPSE?!”

Elliot paused.
Clapped his hands together again.
Prayed harder

Samantha was probably sharpening her knives already. He hoped Luke and Richard had said their goodbyes. Maybe left behind a will. Or a final apology pizza

But for now, he had a mission
He stepped into the delivery station, ready to do what he did best: bring hot, delicious pizza to the good people of this town

And then he saw it
He froze

His face went from ‘sunshine and wholesomeness’ to ‘witnessed a crime against humanity’ in less than a second.

The delivery cars

His beautiful red babies

They were… no longer red

They were colors. Every single one.
Neon green. Highlighter yellow. Blinding turquoise. Violent bubblegum pink. One was-was that zebra-striped with glitter?

Elliot’s eye twitched
He stepped forward like a man in mourning, hand hovering near his chest like he’d just been personally betrayed

“What… the actual fu-”
He couldn’t even finish it. His brain refused

He let out a long, suffering sigh and approached what used to be his motorbike, now fully dipped in pink, complete with a glittery ‘YAAAS!’ sticker slapped on the front

He’d cry
He’d absolutely cry if he didn’t have pizzas to deliver and costumers waiting for their orders

Elliot grabbed the stacked boxes and cradled them like fragile newborns. His customers didn’t deserve to suffer just because someone thought giving the delivery fleet a Barbiecore apocalypse makeover was a good idea

He strapped the pizzas down, climbed onto the pink monstrosity, and revved the engine.

“Alright, girl” he muttered to the motorbike “Let’s go make people’s day…”

vroom-vroom

With a deep breath and a squeaky Elliot took off into the city, pink bike, rainbow fleet, and all knowing full well this was just another chapter in the Pizza Chronicles

He'd deal with the war crimes against color theory later

-

And it wasn’t just the pizzeria suffering from this war crime against aesthetics.

As Elliot cruised through his neighborhood- well, what used to be his neighborhood, he noticed something was terribly, horribly wrong

Every. Single. House.

All of them had been painted in the most eye-searing combinations imaginable. Neon green houses with hot pink roofs. Orange doors on purple walls. One house looked like it had been dipped in melted crayons and glitter vomit. Another had flames spray-painted on the garage like it was auditioning to be in a low-budget racing movie from 2001

“Wh-what the hell?!” Elliot blinked hard. “Am I being punk’d? Did reality glitch? Did the whole world get hit with a Sims 2 color pack mod?!”

He couldn’t tell if he was having a fever dream or if someone had genuinely decided that colorblind chaos was a vibe. Who did this? A toddler with a paintball gun? A rogue art major with a vendetta against taste?

He rolled up to one delivery stop, eyes still twitching from the visual assault. The house in front of him was neon blue. Not a tasteful seafoam or sky blue, no. This was nuclear reactor core blue. The kind of blue that screamed. The kind of blue that bites

Elliot, suppressing a scream of his own, rang the doorbell

A few seconds later, a man opened the door. His expression was neutral. Too neutral. Dangerously polite

“Hello…” the man said, blinking twice like he hadn’t slept in days

“Hi, sir! Pizza delivery!” Elliot grinned brightly, handing over the steaming boxes like they weren’t standing in front of a cursed Smurf shrine

“Oh! Y-yes, thank you” the man said with a soft, very obviously forced chuckle “Here’s the pay… and a tip… great service…”

He handed the cash over, but Elliot didn’t move

“Sir?” Elliot tilted his head. “You seem… really unhappy. Is there something wrong with our service? If so, I’d be more than happy to-”

“No! No, it’s not you!” the man said quickly, eyes darting around like the walls had ears. He sighed, and finally slumped forward like his soul gave up

“It’s the house,” he whispered. “Someone painted it. Neon blue. While I was at work.” He stepped aside and gestured limply toward the atrocity behind him, as if inviting Elliot to witness his shame

Elliot nodded solemnly, as though he were a priest being shown the site of a tragic sin.

“My parents are coming next week,” the man continued, voice rising. “And I just told them I finally got the house decorated. I was gonna show them how independent I am! How grown-up I’ve become! And now I have to tell them I live inside a blue raspberry-flavored disaster!”

He turned his desperate gaze to Elliot, practically pleading.
“And would they believe me if I told them a stranger did this?! No! They’ll think I chose this! They’ll think this was intentional! I’LL NEVER HEAR THE END OF IT!”

Elliot placed a hand on the man’s shoulder in solidarity, nodding with the seriousness of a pizza monk. The man gave him a grateful glance, mumbled something about repainting at 3AM, and gently closed the door

Elliot stood in silence. The pink motorbike purred behind him like a sad cotton candy being washed away with water.

“…This is worse than I thought”

As he continued his route, he found the same story at every door. Horror. Grief.
Every single customer had the same look on their face: a mixture of stunned disbelief and simmering rage

One woman was trying to scrub off neon orange stars from her front windows
One guy refused to open the door fully, peeking from behind it like his house had caught a disease
One teenager just sighed, handed over a twenty, and whispered, “They got my dog’s house too.”

This was no longer just a weird prank. This was an emergency
These weren’t just customers anymore. These were victims
Victims of a paintbrush-wielding maniac who clearly had no regard for human dignity or matching color palettes.

Elliot clenched his fists. He could not stand idly by while someone wiped the smiles off his beloved customers' faces. Smiles were part of the thing he loves to paint on his costumers face! Happiness came free with every slice!

He narrowed his eyes behind his visor, dramatically turning his pinky bike around with righteous fury

“No more.”

He revved the engine.

“I will find you” he muttered to the paint-wielding menace, wherever they were.
“And I will repaint you”

With justice in his heart and glitter still clinging to his bike tires, Elliot zoomed off back to the pizzeria, wind in his hair, determination in his soul

The hunt had begun

-

“Sir! We have a problem!” Elliot burst past Sean and threw open the manager’s office door with the force of divine revelation

Inside, Luke and Richard were still sitting stiffly while the manager verbally unleashed his ninth consecutive wave of disappointment. All three turned to the sudden intrusion

“Do NOT hurt the door” the manager said, deadpan. “We just got a new one after Luke and Richard thought it was a good idea to bring a chainsaw to work”

Luke immediately whistled and looked anywhere but the manager’s direction

“Well… at least we looked cool?” he offered weakly.

“You scared the living SHIT out of me, Luke. Who’s ‘we’ here?!” the manager snapped

“Uhhh… me and Richard?” Luke said, dragging Richard into the crime like a sinking pirate ship yanking its buddy boat down

But Elliot didn’t have time for this brand of dumb today. “Guys” he fidgeted, “we’ve got a… colorful situation out here”

“What do you mean-”

“OH MY GOD, MY CAR!!” Sean’s voice shrieked from the outside

Everyone raced out and were immediately blinded by what awaited them: a parking lot painted by someone who clearly hated retinas

Sean stood in front of his car, his beloved car, screaming in emotional agony. The vehicle had been spray painted in what looked like a thousand crayons dying in unison. The wheels were neon orange. The roof was lime green. The bumper now had glittery eyeballs. It looked like a unicorn had exploded on it

“MY BABY!” Sean dropped to his knees, arms in the air like a man in a disaster movie

Richard pointed at another vehicle, possibly once red, now an unholy blend of neon green and cyberpunk nightmare “And you’re sure these are the pizzeria’s cars?”

“That’s… what I’ve been trying to say!” Elliot groaned.

The manager massaged his temples, already on his last three brain cells “You know what? Fine. Luke, Richard, I won’t cut your salary this month if you help Elliot catch the culprit”

He stormed back inside and slammed the door shut, muffling a very tired “I hate this job”

“Welp” Richard clapped. “Should we get Samantha and Cody to help?”

Elliot shook his head. “Then who’s gonna keep the pizzeria from becoming a lawless wasteland? Yeah, that’s what I thought”

And just like that, the ragtag squad of justice set off: Elliot, Richard, and a still-sobbing Sean being half-dragged along

“MY CAAAARRR!”

“Yes yes, your car is ugly now, we get it” Luke waved him off. “Let’s move on”

“No, you don’t get it!” Sean wailed. “She had a name! Jessica the Jetta! I waxed her last week!”

Elliot thought it was only Sean being dramatic, until they passed Luke and Richard’s house.

Luke’s scream was so shrill it could break glass “FUUUCK, RICHARD, OUR HOUSE?!”

He bolted up to the fence like a man on fire “I JUST BOUGHT A NEW BUCKET OF PAINT! I SPENT HOURS ON THIS!”

Richard stepped up to examine the chaos. Their once-pristine white fence now looked like it had been attacked by a pack of paint-huffing gremlins with no sense of shame

The two roommates stood in stunned silence

Luke’s eye twitched. Then he pointed to the sky like a protagonist in a revenge anime

“Alright. They messed with the almighty Mario Kart king Luke?” he growled. “They. Will. PAY.”

“Good spirit,” Elliot said. “But how?”

They all paused

Elliot stepped forward, voice calm and analytical “The culprit- or culprits, have been choosing targets at seemingly random. But there’s a pattern beneath the madness. They’re choosing the closest houses from their current location”

He paced, dramatic “First: easy accessibility. Second: faster results. Third: to avoid being seen during transitions”

“Only an idiot hits the nearest house when people are already looking for them” Sean muttered

“Exactly” said Luke “That’s why you do it. Because everyone dismisses the obvious”

“You call that smart?” Sean narrowed his eyes “That’s arrogance wrapped in dumb luck. Closest means exposed”

And then… the debate began

Luke and Sean circled each other like caffeinated lawyers in a courtroom drama

“No, I’m counting on them being clever, clever enough to overthink. Everyone assumes they’re hiding. So while they’re off chasing shadows? I’m already done and walking out the front door”

“Audacity gets you caught” Sean shot back “Distance gives you control. Cover. Options. Speed means nothing if you’re seen.”

“Speed is everything” Luke barked “You don’t need an escape plan if no one ever sees you. It’s about being so bold, people refuse to believe it was you!”

“Distance means safety. Boldness means cocky. And cocky gets busted”

As the argument escalated, Elliot turned to Richard “Yo. Have you ever seen Luke like this?”

Richard shrugged “All that time in law school finally activated something in his brain. We got a future litigator you know?”

“Yeah, one who’s obsessed with Mario Kart” Elliot said.

“And Sean wants to be a business negotiator, right?”

“Yup”

“…This explains so much”

Back in the verbal arena, Sean and Luke were practically in each other’s faces

“Fools run into traps” Sean said.

“Cowards hide in corners” Luke countered.

“YOU’RE DUMB”

“YOU’RE DUMBER”

“CAN YOU BOTH SHUT UP?!” Elliot shouted, inserting himself between them like a bouncer at a bar fight

“GUYS. Are we trying to catch a paint-loving maniac or are we auditioning for Law & Order: Spray Paint Victims Unit?!”

They both blinked

“I vote we split into two teams” Elliot said, rubbing his temples “I’ll go with Sean. Richard goes with Luke. That way we cover more ground and argue less”

Everyone agreed, well, after Elliot bonked both Luke and Sean on the head

The group split with newfound determination, storming off to chase down the painter. Whether they were about to stumble into a mastermind or a glitter-obsessed squirrel was yet to be seen, but one thing was certain.

This mystery was going to be very colorful.

-

Walking through a narrow alleyway that smelled like expired regret and mystery juice, Luke and Richard searched the shadows like two budget detectives with absolutely no business being there.

Trash cans loomed. Rats scattered. The entire alley was a visual crime scene, against good taste.

“Why are we looking in here again?” Richard groaned, elbow-deep in a black trash bag. He yelped suddenly “EW- OH GOD, IS THAT A RAT?!”

It was

It blinked at him, mildly offended, then squeaked and leapt away

Luke, unfazed, was still digging around like a raccoon with a grudge. His jaw clenched. His fence, his beautiful, freshly painted fence, had been vandalized. Defiled. Mocked.

Ain’t no way he was letting this slide. Not after spending an entire Sunday with paint, pride, and podcast playlists titled “Homeowner Glory”

Click

His fingers touched something. Not gooey. Not furry. Not trashy

“Wait- yo, Richard. Get over here”

“What? Don’t tell me you found another rat family reunion” Richard muttered, brushing rat fur off his hoodie and stepping closer

The two stared down as Luke peeled away a soggy pizza box, some questionable fabric, and...

CLUNK

They froze.

It was…

…it was…

A rusty, old, completely pointless metal plate

Silence

They stared at it. Then at each other. Then back at the plate. It glinted up at them like a crusty reminder of how deeply their lives had gone wrong

“…Seriously?” Richard blinked

“…”

“BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Richard exploded, nearly collapsing against a trash can “OH GOD- you-you actually looked like you found a sacred relic or something!”

He wheezed, pointing at Luke “I could see the sparkle in your eyes, dude. You thought you were the main character!!”

“OH SHUT IT!!” Luke snapped, hurling the plate back into the trash pile with a clang that sounded vaguely like shame

Richard was still cackling. “Bro thought he unlocked the gate to Narnia and it’s just a piece of tetanus.”

“I swear to god if you don’t help me find something useful-”

“What, like an ancient scroll? A map to the Paint Bandit’s secret lair?” Richard said, wiping tears from his eyes

Luke grumbled and turned away “You are so lucky we’re not being graded for this.”

Richard just chuckled, following him as the alley swallowed them deeper in shadows and stink

But somewhere, just past the corner, something did shimmer faintly, like a paint trail leading off into somewhere

Maybe Luke wasn’t so far off after all.

-

-

And as for Sean and Elliot?

Well, they were checking out places further away. An area quiet, open, and untouched by rainbow chaos. For now.

“Hmm… you ever wonder why someone did all this?” Sean asked, hands in his pockets, whistling a lazy tune

“Maybe their thoughts were doing cartwheels and crashing into each other like a Black Friday sale in their head” Elliot mused, his voice thoughtful “And they just couldn’t get it out right. Or maybe- just maybe, they were trying to say something deep, but instead of a big speech, it came out as weird doodles and awkward silence-"

Sean shut that right down with a hand slapped over Elliot’s mouth.

“I asked a question, Ell. Not for you to write a whole damn essay” Sean said, smiling, that kind of smile that begged Elliot to stop before he started quoting poetry next

They wandered further, the wind brushing against their faces with a quiet, almost dreamy gentleness. Elliot closed his eyes briefly, savoring the breeze. It reminded him of the Forsaken Realm

But this wind- it felt different

Back in the Forsakened place, the breeze wasn’t calming. It was cold, empty. It passed right through him, hollow like a ghost’s touch. Trees rustled there too, but their lullabies were laced with dread. Everything tried to look real, but it wasn’t. No matter how natural it pretended to be, it always felt like a trap. Like a fox caught in a cage, waiting to be released into the open just to be hunted down again

Skinned

It haunted him

He was scared- scared that one day, when he finally followed through with his plan… he’d fail. That Spectre would find him, drag him back. That he’d throw away everything, only to land back at square one

A failure

A waste of luck

“Hey. Elliot”

He blinked

Sean was watching him, brows drawn in quiet concern. How long had he been stuck in that spiral?

“Oh, yeah?”

“Just so you know… I’m not trying to crack open whatever secrets or trauma you’ve got bottled up” Sean said, tone softer than usual “But don’t push yourself too hard, alright? If you ever want to talk… I’m all ears”

Elliot blinked again. Then smiled, small but sincere “…Thanks, man. I’ll keep that in mind”

They continued walking, letting the silence settle again. Just the wind, the fading sun, and the low hum of an approaching night

Then-

“Hey, you smell that?” Elliot snapped his head toward a nearly hidden alley, sharp like a hound catching a scent

“Smell what? Your sweaty shirt? Yeah, totally” Sean smirked, but was immediately elbowed in the ribs as Elliot dragged him toward the alley

“No, something’s here…”

Elliot dove into the trash bags. Sean grimaced, holding his nose. “Bro this place reeks-”

Click

It’s a rusty metal plate.

Sean raised an eyebrow. “Wow. A metal plate. What an amazing find. Truly groundbreaking, Elliot-”

Clank

They froze.

The plate shifted, revealing a hole.

A hole filled with trash bags… and inside, dozens of spray cans and buckets of paint.

Elliot's eyes lit up “I knew it! I smelled paint earlier- I knew something was off!”

Sean crouched, grabbing a can “These are definitely from the culprit. Damn, I almost missed this”

He began tearing through the bags

“Wait- wait- THERE!” Sean pulled something out triumphantly

Elliot peered over his shoulder “A… receipt?”

“Duh! Anyone buying this much paint either has a mural to finish or a crush on the store clerk” Sean said with a gleam in his eye. He examined the slip “Yup! ‘Central Store’ That’s our lead”

He carefully placed everything back, then handed the receipt to Elliot

“I’ll hang onto this” Elliot said, pocketing it. He glanced at the sky. The sun was gone, only the afterglow lingered

“It’s getting dark. We’ll continue tomorrow”

“Ugh, already? Time flew. Fine” Sean muttered, stretching as he followed Elliot back down the road

They didn’t catch the culprit yet

But they were close

Closer than ever

-

“So yeah, that’s what we found,” Sean announced to Luke and Richard, holding up the receipt like it was a badge of honor

“And that’s all we found today. Me and Richard didn’t find anything, unfortunately” Luke shrugged, tired

“Welp! We’ll pick this back up tomorrow, I miss my bed, dude.” Sean stretched, grabbed his keys and bag, and strolled out of the pizzeria like nothing had happened

-

-

The Next Morning

-

-

Elliot stepped outside, rubbing his eyes, still half-asleep. Another day, another-

“Good morning world- AHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Before he could even react, a hand violently yanked him backward.

“SEAN, WHAT THE FU-”

“Shut it, Ell! Get in!” Sean shouted, shoving Elliot into the passenger seat of his car with zero remorse

In the backseat: Samantha, Luke, and Richard. None of them looked happy

“The little bastard gave our house a literal makeover. Glow down, not glow-up” Richard groaned

“They painted my house shit brown and drew a giant dick on the garage door” Samantha scoffed, arms crossed, eyes burning with wrath

“My car got a giant quote ‘CHAOS LIVES HERE’ in bubble letters!” Sean growled, smacking his forehead into the steering wheel. The horn honked in pain “It took me hours to clean that crap.”

“Damn…” Elliot opened his mouth, only to be cut off by Richard

“The police arrested Cody this morning. Said they found buckets of paint in front of his house”

“WHAT?!” Elliot’s entire brain short-circuited

Cody? The rookie? Cody was framed! The kid stayed with Elliot yesterday, how can he do all of those?!

Oh HELL no

They’re not pinning this on him. Not today. The pizzeria wasn’t losing another employee over some spray paint psycho!

Without warning, Elliot threw open the door, marched to the driver’s side, yanked Sean out, and shoved him into the passenger seat

“Yo- Ell- CALM DOWN-”

But Elliot didn’t hear him. The seatbelt clicked. His eyes narrowed. And then-

VROOOOOOOM

They were off. Screaming down the road at breakneck speed, Elliot headed straight for their next lead: The Central Store

In the backseat, it was chaos.

“LUKE, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” Richard screamed, clinging to Samantha with one arm while his legs wrapped around Luke

“THE FUCK IT IS! You’re the one who told Elliot about Cody’s arrest, you prick!” Luke yelled, trying to pry Richard off

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO TAUGHT ELLIOT TO DRIVE LIKE THIS!! I KNEW I SHOULDN’T HAVE LET YOU TWO TO DRIVE THE SUPPLY TRUCK THAT ONE TIME!”

“STOP IT, YOU TWO FUCKERS!” Samantha roared, slapping a hand over both their faces

The car swerved slightly

It was loud

It was messy

It was barely under control

But damn, was it a legendary start to the day

-

-

They parked. They ran.

And to their horror, the store was packed. Wall-to-wall shoppers elbowing each other for half-off plungers and clearance tile grout

“Alright… we should stick together” Elliot said, turning to his group “Just try not to get-”

“Dude, I think they’re gone” said a stranger, not even looking up from the vacuum cleaner he was cradling like a baby

“…”

Elliot sighed, shoulders slumping. He looked around. No sign of Sean, Samantha, Luke, or Richard. Great

He squinted past the sea of discount-mad humanity, gripping the slightly crumpled receipt like it was some kind of ancient scroll of justice. Somewhere out there, beyond the screaming children and flying coupons, was the paint counter

And at that counter: a lone hardware employee who looked like he deeply regretted every decision that led to this moment

Elliot took a breath and started forward

BONK

A shopping cart slammed into his leg. A teenager riding it like a chariot shouted, “Tokyo drift!!” and narrowly missed an old man clutching twelve plungers

“Excuse me” Elliot muttered, sidestepping a woman aggressively sniffing paint samples like she was judging wine

Immediately, his path was blocked by a man comparing two identical shades of beige.

“Do you think ‘Almond Whisper’ says more stability or mystery?” the man asked no one

Elliot ducked under a “25% OFF TILE GROUT” sign and finally reached the counter, just as the employee turned to restock

“Hey! Hi! Quick question!” Elliot skidded to a stop. “Has anyone come in recently and bought, like… a disturbing amount of spray paint?”

The employee turned slowly. Ponytail. Eyebags. Thousand-yard stare. The aura of someone who’s been asked if paint is edible too many times

He blinked. “Define disturbing”

“Twenty cans of neon pink. Maybe more. Also, like, ten buckets of paint”

The guy shrugged “This is a hardware store, not an art school. People do weird shit all the time”

“Yeah, well, someone’s been vandalizing everything. Benches. Trash cans. My friend’s car got tagged. It said ‘CHAOS LIVES HERE’ in bubble letters”

“Oh. Yeah” The employee turned lazily to his register “That does sound like something that 17-year-old guy would do”

Elliot leaned in “Guy?”

“New regular. Some kid. Wears sunglasses indoors, green hoodie, always pays in quarters. Bought a mountain of paint last Monday”

“…Do you have, like, security footage?”

“We have a cardboard cutout of Chuck Norris with a fake camera taped to it”

Elliot blinked. “…That explains so much”

The employee shrugged. “Listen, unless he spray-painted me, I’m not paid enough to care”

Elliot groaned and rubbed his face “Okay, but if you do see someone trying to buy, I don’t know, every neon color known to man, can you call someone?”

“Sure. I’ll call that guy. He’d love that”

Elliot stared at him, baffled

The employee held up his phone with a lazy smirk “I got his number. What?”

-

-

Walk out of the shop, Elliot sighs, great how do he even catch that guy.

“well that’s a certain good news!...” sits on a random bench inside the store, Elliot smile to himself, that’s some process

He gets up after a while and begin to search for his friends

-

Elliot now stood in the middle of the store, turning in slowly

He pulled out his phone. No service. Of course. The store was a black hole of signal, hope, and rational behavior.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself. “This is fine. I’m a grown man. I can find three other grown men and a grown woman. This isn’t an episode of Scooby-Doo”

His group chat was useless:

Richard: “pretzel emergency”
Sean: “saw a cool hat store. might live there now”
Luke: “I’m in the furniture section. I’ve made peace with becoming a chair.”
Sam: “don’t look for me. it’s better this way”

Elliot groaned and started walking.

First stop: the hat store

He peeked inside. It was a kaleidoscope of sequins, cowboy hats, and foam visors shaped like hot dogs. In the corner, Sean was wearing a fedora, a sombrero, and a Viking helmet at once.

“Found you.”

Sean looked up, thrilled. “This place sells identity”

“No. It sells regret”

“Same thing.”

Elliot dragged him out by the sleeve.

Next: furniture section

It didn’t take much time until he found Luke lounging in a showroom recliner, surrounded by three employees who mistakenly thought he was a customer making a very important decision.

“Luke”

“I am the chair”

“Get up. We’re not doing this again”

“Fine. But only because this ottoman is judging me”

Dragging both Luke and Sean, Elliot made his way to the pretzel stand, where Richard was mid-negotiation with a 17-year-old employee

“I’m just saying, if I buy two pretzels, I should get a third pretzel as emotional compensation for my childhood”

The teen stared at him in silent trauma.

Elliot grabbed Richard by the collar. “Let’s go”

“BUT I’M HUNGRY FOR JUSTICE”

“You can eat justice in the car”

Finally, after few more minutes and a few raid through the stores to look for their last friend, Samantha finally tell them where she’s at, they arrived at the pet store, where they discovered Sam surrounded by ferrets

“Oh good” Elliot said “You’ve joined a cult”

Sam nodded solemnly “This one is named Douglas. He chose me”

“You said not to look for you!”

“I changed my mind. Douglas told me I have a destiny”

The ferret clung to Sam’s shirt like a furry barnacle.

Elliot sighed. “That’s it. I might just rope us together whenever we go somewhere crowded like this”

Sean raised a hand. “But what if-”

“NO”

“also is there any news about the culprit thing?” Luke finally came back in track of that they all supposed to do

Elliot turned to him, nodded happily

“Hell yeah! Found out there only one culprit, 17 years old boy wears sunglasses indoors and always with a green hoodie” Elliot smile

“like that one?” Richard pointed at a stranger walk by unsuspciously-

Hey…hold up…

They all stared closer to the stranger…

“sunglasses…” Samantha muttered

“green hoodie…” Luke whistle

“THAT’S HIM!!” Sean shouted, startled everyone, including the guy they’re staring at

He hurriedly dashes away, and who are they to not chase after

“Holyshit! He’s fast!!” screamed Luke

“Shut up and save your breath Luke! He’s getting away” Elliot shouted

They twist and turned to every corner, chasing the troublemaker. Through seems like a certain someone already ahead everyone, inches away from the troublemaker

“Damn, Sean really take revenge for his car seriously” Richard jaw hanged wide

“Dude was like, way ahead of us dang- woah…AH” Samantha tripped, twisted her ankle in the process, they turned to her, Richard attempt to run to help his friend but she stopped him
“No! go for that jerk! I am NOT wasting any more money on buckets of paints for the fence!” She shout

They hesitantly nod and continue to run after the boy

“GOTCHA!!!” Sean lunged forward manage to snatched the culprit and tripped himself in the process, causing both to fall down

“caught you!!” Elliot said as he approaches them

Luke manages to runs up and block the path in front of them, destroy all the guy’s escape route

He looks around, they’ve run to a small alley, there’s no way, they losing this dude again

“Alright man come, I’m taking you to the police station, you’ve been committing too much vandalism” Richard exclaim, crossing his arm

As for the guy, he manages to stands up again but realize he have no more way to go, he stares at them angrily,

The boy stood again, face twisted in frustration. Then

 

He rushed forward.

A pocket knife in his hand

 

Straight at Richard

Elliot’s head snapped up. In front of him, Richard stood dumbstruck as the kid barreled toward him with a knife

Something in Elliot snapped

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no cinematic crack or glowing eyes or sudden music swell. Just a shift. A shatter, deep and invisible, like a hairline fracture in a dam finally giving way

He saw the knife flash in the corner of his eye. Saw Richard, unmoving. Frozen. Just like he had been

And then the world fell silent.

Time fractured.

A sudden surge of energy, raw, primal, unfiltered, ignited in Elliot’s veins. His legs moved before his mind caught up. He sprinted. Slipped. Caught himself. Scraped across the dirty floor tiles like a madman possessed

No

Not again

Not another one

Not someone else dying because he hesitated. Because he was too late. Too soft. Too slow

He remembered the blood pooling under Chance. How it soaked into the pizza box. How he held him, hands trembling, voice shaking as he pleaded “Don’t fall asleep, don’t you dare fall asleep, eat the pizza, you dumb bastard- please…”

But Chance never did. Because Elliot hadn’t been fast enough

And now, now he was watching it happen all over again

Richard in front of a blade. Paralyzed. Just like Elliot had been that night

Elliot had left his teammates, his friends to die. Again

His fault. It was his fault. His lungs stung. His chest tightened

He could see it

He could see how pathetic he was. Weak. Useless. Always too late

Chance must’ve been disappointed

You haven’t changed at all, Ell. Still the guy who shows up after the worst parts are over

Still the guy who lets people die

But not this time

He can’t let it happen again

No
No
NO NO NO NO!

Elliot screamed inside his own skull, every step slamming down like a drumbeat of refusal. His legs burned. His breath wheezed. His vision tunneled, sharp and white and shaking

And then-

thk!

The blade met flesh. But not Richard’s

Elliot collided into Richard with a sickening force, his body slamming between the blade and his friend just in time. Pain exploded in his shoulder, hot and white. His knees hit the ground hard. His arms wrapped tightly around Richard like a shield as the knife fell loose and clattered to the concrete

“Elliot!” Richard shouted, twisting in shock as blood bloomed through Elliot’s sleeve

Elliot gasped. His brain couldn't keep up, he just knew that Richard was still standing, still breathing. That was enough

He endured things like this all the time

He’ll be fine

The kid stumbled back from the collision, dazed, until-

Thump!

He didn’t see Samantha sweep his legs out from under him. The boy crashed down, groaning. Before he could scramble away, Sean was on him, pinning him to the floor with the power of a man whose car had been personally insulted by bubble letters

“You are NOT getting away, punk!” Samantha snarled, still limping slightly but eyes blazing with fury

“I-I didn’t mean to- I just-!” the boy stammered, but nobody was listening to him anymore

All eyes were on Elliot

He was still on his knees, clutching his arm, blood trickling between his fingers and staining his sweater. His breath came in short, ragged bursts. The panic hadn’t left him yet, it pulsed through his body, sharper than the pain

Richard dropped to his knees beside him, hands hovering uselessly over the wound. “Elliot- what the hell, man?! You-you could’ve!-”

“I’m fine” Elliot gasped, the words tasting like copper “You’re okay. That’s what matters”

He pulled the knife from his shoulder with trembling fingers, the motion uncoordinated and messy. The pain stole the rhythm from his lungs. He leaned forward, head dropping slightly as if gravity had suddenly doubled

“Hey, hey don’t pull it out- shit” Samantha dropped beside them too, grabbing Elliot’s other arm to steady him. “We need to stop the bleeding, Sean, cloth!”

“Already on it!” Sean tore off the shirt he’d been wearing beneath his jacket and passed it forward like a soldier handing over a bandage in a battlefield

“Elliot- look at me- look at me, man” Richard said, his voice cracking “Why the hell would you do that?!”

Elliot didn’t answer for a moment. Then, with eyes that burned, he finally met Richard’s gaze.

He finds no words to defend himself

Samantha stepped in, face unreadable “We need to get him to the ER. Now.”

Luke nodded, helping Elliot to his feet slowly “Come on, Ell. You’re gonna be okay”

“I’m fine” Elliot said again

“You’re not. And that’s okay” Sean said, gripping his shoulder gently “We got you”

As they helped him walk out of the alley, past the vandal still pinned and now crying, past the mess of the store, the day, the chaos-

Elliot let out one hitched breath

It’s not enough

Because even though Richard was safe…

He had almost lost his friend again

And that thought alone was worse than the wound

-

-

The sirens had long faded.

“Alright, this kid has been committing… vandalism and aggravated assault. Thank you for capturing him” the officer said, snapping the cuffs around the boy’s wrists with a practiced click. The culprit didn’t fight anymore. Just stared at the ground with the dazed look of someone who knew it was over

Then the officer turned to Elliot, arms crossed, face taut with disapproval “And you, kid. Don’t jump into danger again. That move was stupid. You could’ve been killed”

Elliot didn’t argue

He just nodded. Once. Twice. Silently. The words didn’t sting. Not because they weren’t true, but because they were. He knew it had been stupid. He knew it with the same certainty he knew how to breathe.

But he also knew he’d do it again

And again

And again

If it meant saving someone

“Come on, man! Cheer up!” Sean beamed, clapping a hand onto Elliot’s back with his usual force. “We caught the stupid culprit! Case closed, ding ding!”

Elliot gave him a thin smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said softly “We did, Cody should be out of jail now”

Problem solved!

-

-

-

Click

The door to his house creaked open, quiet in the dead of night. Elliot stepped inside like a ghost returning to a place it once called home

He didn’t even take his shoes off

He just collapsed onto the couch, face-first, like his body had finally given up trying to stay upright. Every muscle screamed. His shoulder throbbed with a dull heat beneath the bandages. His head buzzed like an overworked machine

Today had been... something

He stared up at the ceiling

Blank. White. Featureless

His eyes blinked, once. Twice. His thoughts swirled and ran in circles, chasing themselves like a dog going mad from boredom. There was something wrong, he could feel it, but couldn’t name it. Couldn’t pin it down

He felt like a paper cutout of himself

Flat. Fragile. One breeze from tearing in half

Like someone had turned down the volume on reality and forgot to switch it back

He didn’t even notice he was crying until his vision blurred

But they weren’t sobs. No hiccups, no broken sounds. Just... water. Streaming quietly down his cheeks. Like a leak in a dam that had been ignored too long

He didn’t even know why

He wasn’t sad. Not exactly. Not happy, either. Just... hollow. Like someone had scraped out his insides and left him running on fumes

He was hungry, but not

He doesn’t have the right to eat

Not when they’re still running, suffering in Forsaken Realm

He was tired, but sleep wouldn’t come

The world felt bland. Muted. Like someone had desaturated everything.

He wanted to scream. But there wasn’t anything left to say

Eventually, he peeled himself off the couch. Walked, legs stiff, to the balcony. The city below buzzed with life, cars, lights, people laughing on sidewalks, but it felt a thousand miles away

He lit a cigarette

The smoke curled in the night air, glowing faintly in the streetlights

“...Hey, Builderman” he whispered, voice raspy “I’m smoking here. Why don’t you come and get me, huh?”

He chuckled to himself, the sound dries and brittle

Then silence

And then…

A single, broken breath. One shaky inhale

And the tears returned

Not loud. Not messy. Just... there. Quiet. Steady. Like a faucet left slightly on

He missed them

God, he missed them

Noob. Chance. Two Time. The Survivors. Everyone

His family

He missed the Forsaken Realm, even if it had nearly destroyed him
Even if it had tortured him, hunted him, buried him alive beneath blood and screams
Because there, people he cared about still stuck there. People who mattered
He knew his place. Knew his purpose. Knew what he was fighting for

Here?
It was…

Free

 

A world of comfort.
A world that he doesn’t deserves

He leaned on the railing, smoke curling upward, his heartbeat slowing into something heavy and bitter

He shouldn’t be the one who got out

He swore he shouldn’t

 

Not when they were still trapped in that hellscape

He clutched at his shoulder. The bandages felt like a joke. Like a costume pretending he was still in danger

But he wasn't

Not really

Not anymore

 

“I’m not done” he whispered, voice shaking “I’m not leaving you guys”
He choked back something rising in his throat. Something feral. Guilty. Grieving.

“I just-”

He bit his lip until it hurt. Copper spread on his tongue

“I just wish I’d dragged everyone with me”

The words escaped before he could stop them

So small. So pathetic. So honest it made him want to disappear

His knees buckled slightly as the weight of the truth hit him

 

He would burn down the world if it meant getting them back

He would tear reality apart to bring them home

He would sell his soul if it meant one day with everyone here

 

Even if they’d never forgive him for making it out alone

 

He buried his face in his hands

The city lights blurred
His body trembled from the cold- or maybe from everything else

Somewhere in the dark, a dog barked. A siren passed. Someone laughed. Life kept going

And Elliot?

Elliot just stood there, burning the last inch of his cigarette, quietly hating himself for escape alone

-

Elliot pressed his forehead to the cool railing. The night air wrapped around him gently, as if trying to soothe him. Or maybe mourn with him

Maybe the night understood

Maybe it was the only one who did

-

-

-

 [Sleep tight, Elliot]

 

Fun fact: "Brunt out" is a state of complete mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion. A terribly burnt-out person often feels like they're running on empty, not just tired, but hollowed out. Burnout can mimic depression but is usually tied to chronic stress or emotional overload

 

Notes:

7264 words
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Yippee Yay! Oh Yippee Yoo! We reached chapter 10!!
I'm planning to do a small QnA next! Don’t worry, chapter 11 won't be forgotten. Both the Q&A and Chapter 11 will be posted at the same time
If you have any questions about the fic, feel free to drop them in the comments! I’ll be happy to answer them in the QnA. Just hoping I get enough questions to make it lol :,)

Chapter 11: QnA

Summary:

I might never wanted to do another QnA again, I could feel how sucks I am, this is so stressful man, author does not like this at all…(
(jokes on author, he'll do it again once he reached chapter 25 or 40)

Is Elliot gonna somehow save other survivors?

-Due to not wanting to spoil further chapters of this fic, I’d say, Elliot did manage to get back to the Forsaken Realm, how he gets there? We’ll know in the future. How can he gets back out? We’ll know in the future

 

Do Cody, Samantha, Richard and Luke know about Elliot’s disappearance and if yes, what do they think about it?

-I say they do since Elliot is son of Mr. Builder aka one of the owner of a big brand pizzeria, of course news of Elliot went missing will reach them, they are aware of Elliot has been missing for 2 years

- Richard didn’t care much, as it’s just “cool! You’re back bro” type of reaction, yet he currently questioning what did Elliot face through after chapter 10, he feels like he shouldn’t trust what Elliot told him and everyone

-Luke thought Elliot disappear and become a secret agent for the government or something… I think he forgot about his theory after chapter 4 bro

- Cody might just see it as something to look up to, he admires Elliot, years of disappears and suddenly come back and rebound like it’s nothing, that’s super cool for Cody

-Samantha felt weird for the fact Elliot’s skill didn’t get rusty, that quite suspicious, but she tolerates it

Fun fact: During chapter 2 “Back In Track” the two chefs mentioned is Richard and Luke, I originally planned Richard and Luke only to be side characters, mentioned only in chapter 2 then say bye-bye and Elliot only have three friends include: Sean who didn’t gets scrapped, Olivia and Emma are the other two author scrapped

-

I was so devastated when there’s not much question, luckily! My friend came to the rescues :’)

Imagine read a fic your friend write and you have no idea what is going on bc you don’t play Forsaken yet still read it all to help him with the QnA so he won’t be sad. I’M BLESSED WITH GOOD PEOPLE :,)

-

 

Why there’s always something like “[word] means” thing like that on the summary of every chapter you wrote?

Ah, it usually meant to spoil what will happen on that chapter, what they’ll face with or the main problem in it, I’d say it’s the thing I’m most afraid of every time I add a new chapter especially when it’s about the survivors in Forsaken Realm as it could easily spoil the future chapters I planned, currently I’m trying to find a way for it to not somehow won’t spoil the further chapters

 

During chapter 9, why Elliot’s room in the Forsaken Realm smell like burnt toast or scorched wires? Did Spectre really messed with Elliot?

Fun fact of the day: Did you know, cigarette smokes tend to smell burnt, chemical or bitter!

 

Characters like Samantha or Richard won’t suffer right? They’re just there as Elliot’s friends and all right? Like some npc

No promises, but they’ll be happy! For now.

Chapter 12: Therapy Visit

Summary:

“Improving” means becoming better than before, making progress or showing signs of positive change

Chapter 11: Therapy Visit

“BUT DAD!!!”

The day started with what could only be described as an interesting scream, echoing through the whole house like someone had just told Elliot that pineapple pizza was the only thing left on Earth

Tragically, no such horror had occurred. No, this was something worse, emotional growth

Elliot, Builder Brothers Pizza’s employee of the month and world champion of avoiding all forms of burnt out, had just learned that his father, Mr. Builder, had booked him a therapy session. Without telling him. Without asking. Without so much as a “Hey champ, how about you talk about your feelings?”

On the phone, his dad’s voice tried to sound calm and reasonable. It failed

“It’s just one hour max! In a perfectly normal therapy session!”

Elliot groaned, dragging a hand down his face like he was trying to erase the stress lines

“Could you at least have warned me?! You can’t just ambush someone with mental health support!”

His dad sounded confused, as if that wasn’t a completely valid statement.

“I did tell Mia to tell you. Mia darling! Did you inform your brother about the therapy thing?”

From downstairs of the other side of the phone came the sound of a cereal bowl clinking and then Mia’s casually shouted response

“Wha? Yeah I did! On Tuesday last week!”

Elliot blinked. A memory stirred. A vague, glittery nightmare of a conversation

“Ohh... that one conversation…” he muttered

“What conversation?” his dad asked suspiciously

Elliot cleared his throat “Well uh, you know... the one where... uh…”

.

(Flashback Begins)

.

It was a beautiful day. The kind of day where the sun tries to cook you alive and the wind does just enough to make you second-guess quitting your job and hiding in the freezer

Elliot was on break, enjoying his daily ritual of “accidentally forgetting lunch again” which conveniently doubled as an excuse to not eat anything, enjoy the wind, and consider whether he could legally marry a fan

That’s when his phone rang

“Mia?” he answered, already bracing himself. Summer break clearly had her in gremlin mode again

“Yum-crnch crnch-oh hey, you finally picked up, bro”
The chewing. So much chewing

“Why are you calling me? Don’t tell me you spilled glitter on Dad’s files again…”

“HEY! That was three years ago! Mmp- this sandwich is bussin’- besides, don’t act like you didn’t almost set the kitchen on fire trying to make a ‘flaming pizza surprise’ back when you first work at the pizzeria”

“That was a theatrical choice!” Elliot huffed “Anyway, focus. What’s up?”

“Oh right, so- mmp, nom nom, and then mmp- and dad told me mmp, mmp- therapy mmp- so yeah, you get it, right?”

Elliot stared into the middle distance. The only words he could make out were “therapy” and “mmp”

“Mia. What. Are. You. Saying?”

But alas, his fate was sealed. Luke, his co-worker and bringer of distraction, strolled up at that moment

“Yo Ell, break’s over, let’s go before the manager turns into the Kraken again”

Elliot panicked “Yeah yeah, coming!” He turned back to the phone

“Uh sure, sure, yeah Mia, gotta go, break time’s up, y’know how it is. Bye!”

Click

And just like that, he forgot. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of ovens, cheese, sweat, one delivery mishap involving a raccoon, and by the time he got home, Elliot was nothing but a human puddle. He slumped face-first onto his bed without checking a single notification, and the mysterious “therapy mmp mmp” became just another distant mystery… like who kept leaving googly eyes on the tomato cans. Probably Richard

.

(Flashback Ends)

 .

“…so yeah…” Elliot mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the phone as if the very screen could scold him. He could feel it, his father’s disappointed dad-aura radiating through the other side, as if his soul had just been grounded

A tense silence

“See, son?” Mr. Builder’s voice came low, firm, and laced with a distinct flavor of tired-parent-who’s-done-playing-games
“This is exactly why you need therapy. I’m on my way. Be ready. Ten minutes, max”

“But dad-”

“Don’t ‘But dad’ me, young man!” Click

And just like that, the call ended. The silence that followed felt heavier than it had any right to be

Elliot groaned and flopped back onto the sofa like a dying fish
“Welp” he muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling fan above him.
“There goes my weekend…”

He stared a little longer. The fan spun. His brain did not

“Think about it” he told himself, voice low and bitter like expired coffee.
Maybe- maybe, his dad had a point. An annoying, pushy “I booked therapy without asking you” kind of point... but a point nonetheless

It’s not like Elliot hadn’t noticed the signs. Oh no, he noticed. He just ignored them the way people ignore the check engine light: aggressively and with a dangerous level of optimism

Getting kidnapped by a godlike entity and forced to play twisted survival games in a dimension that probably didn’t obey physics? Yeah, that might’ve done a little something to his mental health. Just a little trauma seasoning. Sprinkle sprinkle

And what was his grand coping strategy? Cigarettes that made him cough like a 90-year-old pirate. Bottling up emotions until the bottle cracked and leaked self-loathing. Never telling his friends. Never asking for help. Just smiling, cracking jokes, and pretending he was fine

He was not fine

He hadn’t been fine since the incident. Or maybe before that. Who even knows anymore?

And lately? He couldn’t even tell if he was just tired or straight-up depressed. He felt like a cracked phone screen: still functional, technically, but one wrong swipe and the whole thing might shatter

Burnout? Depression? Existential dread? All three, probably. A party of psychological mess

“My coping mechanisms are crap” he admitted to no one in particular

He blinked. Sat up

“No, seriously, they’re garbage” His voice was flat now, deadpan. A man in the middle of a revelation he didn’t ask for

And then, with a weird sense of urgency, Elliot jumped up off the couch like he’d been possessed by a realization

Wide-eyed, pale, hands on his head, he whispered:

“Oh god… I am mentally unstable”

He stood there. Just stood. Processing.

“…just like Dad said”

-

-

Not long after, a fancy black car rolled up and parked neatly outside Elliot’s small house. It was the kind of car that looked like it could pay off a mortgage just by sitting in your driveway. Sleek, spotless, and absurdly out of place, it gleamed like a pearl against the cracked pavement and the humble picket fence

Mr. Builder stepped out, dressed sharp as always, confidence in his step, but something soft in his eyes. He approached the door and knocked gently, like he wasn’t sure if this was a fatherly visit or a rescue mission

He still remembered when Elliot insisted on moving out. “I want to be independent, Dad. Gotta stand on my own” And Mr. Builder respected that. But no matter how far Elliot moved, no matter how grown he claimed to be, he was still Mr. Builder’s son, the same boy he raised alone alongside Mia while building his business brick by brick

And he had noticed, how could he not? Two years of vanishing without a trace. Then Elliot just reappeared, wounded, barely hanging on. No explanation. No story. Just an exhausted smile before he went straight back to work after his injuries healed like nothing had happened

Mr. Builder wasn’t stupid. Something deeply wrong had happened. Something Elliot refused to speak of

They used to be close. Now it felt like Elliot was slipping away from him, further and further, like a boat unmoored in fog. And if Mr. Builder didn’t act soon… he feared he might lose his son completely

“Sorry, dad! My hair was a mess, got my brush stuck in it” Elliot’s voice called out as he finally opened the door, a sheepish smile plastered on his face

Mr. Builder chuckled and reached out, ruffling his son’s hair

“Daaad! Stop! I just did it! You’re gonna turn it into a crow’s nest in five seconds”

Elliot giggled mid-protest, but made no effort to stop his father. It was familiar. Safe

They got into the car together and started the short drive toward the Therapy Center.
And then

Silence

The kind of silence that could make your ears ring. Elliot swore if it got any thicker, they’d have to wade through it like fog

“…So, son” Mr. Builder finally broke the air like cracking glass.
“Did you make any friends lately?”

Elliot’s eyes perked up “Yeah! Actually, I did. Three, actually. Sean kinda helped introduce me to them, I gotta give credit to him for that”

“…That’s good”

And just like that, the silence returned.

Elliot shifted in his seat. Why was this so hard? He used to be able to talk to his dad about anything. Now even the word friends felt like a landmine

 

Maybe it’s because he faced through too much trauma

Too much pain

 

Too much burden

 

Too much that it sewed his mouth shut about it

 

He afraid

 

Afraid of what will happen to them if they know

 

Afraid of their reaction

 

Afraid that they’ll get themselves involved in something they shouldn’t

 

Afraid Spectre will laid Its hand on people Elliot cares

Afraid that they’ll foolishly jumping in something they could never undo just like how he did

 

So afraid that it holds him down, keeping every sound from him stayed in place, refuse to let go

NO Elliot! Get yourself together, it’s not that bad! You don’t suffer that bad

Don’t be so overdramatic Elliot

You look pathetic

So he locked it all down. Tied it shut with barbed wire and good intentions. Kept it buried

The car skidded gently to a stop

They’d arrived

Elliot blinked, realizing he’d lost track of the ride completely

His dad turned toward him, wearing that same warm, fatherly smile. The one Elliot used to trust like a lighthouse in the dark

“Say, Elliot… I’m really glad you’ve made some friends. It’s good to see you smile at work again”

“…Thanks, dad” Elliot replied, voice soft

But Mr. Builder’s smile faltered. That wasn’t the answer he was hoping for. Not really

He leaned back in his seat with a sigh, then, after a pause, spoke again, this time softer, more like a confession

“You know, I never told anyone this, but… when I was your age, I was just as stubborn as you. Believe it or not, I had my own ‘no one understands me’ phase”
“Really?” Elliot glanced at him, surprised

“Yep. I kept everything bottled up. Refused help. Thought I had to carry it all alone. But that… it weighed me down. Slowed me down. Made life so much harder than it had to be”

Mr. Builder placed a gentle hand on Elliot’s shoulder. His eyes didn’t waver

“I’m not saying I know everything. But I do know pain. And if something’s hurting you, Elliot… please talk to me. Don’t carry it alone”

Elliot nodded slowly

But he didn’t speak

 

He couldn’t

 

“Now, go on. Don’t tell this old man you’re planning to live in the car forever” Mr. Builder gave a small smile and removed his hand

Elliot chuckled weakly “Alright. Thanks, dad”

He stepped out and closed the door behind him, walking toward the front entrance of Therapy Center

Each step felt heavier than the last

 

Was it guilt?

 

He didn’t know anymore

All he knew was that something was swelling in his throat. A something…

He wished- god, he wished, that someone could just tear down the wall he’d built around his soul and pull him out

He wished he could tell his father everything. Sean. Mia. Anyone

But he couldn’t

 

I’m sorry, dad

I don’t think you’d understand

 

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

He wiped it away quickly

He couldn’t look weak

Not now

-

Sitting in the waiting room, Elliot stared blankly at the empty chairs around him. Not a soul in sight.

“Huh…” he muttered to himself.
“Guess everyone else around here’s living a perfectly happy, mentally-stable life”

He let out a soft huff and dropped himself into the nearest chair. It was… oddly plush. Suspiciously comfortable, actually. Like it was trying to lull him into trusting it. He narrowed his eyes at it just in case

The room itself was kind of… pretty? Nice wooden flooring. Soft lighting. Cushions scattered just enough to feel cozy but not like someone dumped a beanbag factory in here. Some legit paintings hung on the walls, not weird abstract swirls, but the kind that looked like they belonged in a fancy grandma’s living room. Calming. Peaceful

Elliot folded his arms and stared at one of them

“Cool. A landscape. Wow. Therapy's already working, I guess”

He sighed and slumped back in the chair. It wasn’t like he knew what to expect. This was his first time. The only "therapy" he’d known before this was shoving emotions into a mental box, locking it, duct-taping it shut, throwing it into the ocean, and setting the ocean on fire

Back then, he used to laugh at the idea of therapy “I’m fine” he’d say “I don’t need help”

Which- okay, technically false. He’s not really fine like he said

Like getting yeeted into a hellish place by a god-like entity and forced to play survival games straight out of hell’s suggestion box

And, well. Maybe surviving wasn’t the same thing as coping. And now, here he was.

Doing the one thing he promised himself he’d never need: sitting in a therapy waiting room like some tragic Pinterest quote come to life

He sat still. Very still. Staring forward. One leg crossed over the other, hand resting against his chin. The exact pose of The Thinker statue

Why?

He had no clue

But he was committed now

Even when a receptionist walked by, glanced at him, and blinked in mild confusion like she was wondering whether he was performance art

“Uh… sir? Are you-”

“I’m being dramatic” Elliot deadpanned without moving
“For mental health reasons”

“…Okay. Would you like a bottle of water?”

“No thanks. I hydrate exclusively on denial and sarcasm”

She nodded slowly and walked away

Still in full statue-mode, Elliot muttered under his breath “Waiting for my name to be called like I’m about to be summoned into the emotional gladiator ring…”

-

-

Elliot sat stiffly, knees glued together like he was in front of a firing squad instead of a licensed therapist. The room was quiet, too quiet. The only sound was the hum of the ceiling fan and Elliot’s soul trying to crawl out of his body.

The therapist, a tall man with the emotional range of a stone golem, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, unimpressed but not unkind. His voice was calm and low, like a voiceover from a very dry documentary

“What brings you in today?”

Elliot blinked. Wow. Straight into it, huh? No warm-up question like 'how are you?' or 'do you like cats?' Just- boom. Trauma time.

He squirmed in the seat, fingers knotting together, then unknotting. Eyes bouncing around the room like they were trying to find the nearest emergency exit

“W-well…uhh…” he started

“…”

“…”

“Well…”
God please let the chair swallow me whole

“…”

“…”

They stared

Elliot tried to will himself into a different dimension. Maybe somewhere tropical. Or into the past. Back when he wasn’t in this chair, feeling like a bug under a microscope

-

-

“…”

The therapist lets out a sigh that sounds like it’s aged in disappointment and seasoned with sarcasm. He watches Elliot, who’s been glued to the same spot for fifteen minutes like a haunted mannequin left out during a clearance sale

All Elliot’s managed to say so far is “Well” and a few emotionally paralyzed “uhs” It’s been riveting

Finally, the therapist gives him a tired smile, the kind of smile that says, “I’ve seen some shit and I’m too underpaid for yours” He flips his clipboard dramatically, as if turning a page might summon progress

"Alright" he starts, voice flat "You’ve been sitting there like a taxidermy display from ‘PTSD: The Exhibition’ Want to tell me what’s not eating you today?"

Elliot flinches, eyes wide "I-I… well, I got out of a dangerous and tormenting place, a-and people- friends, are stuck there. I can’t find a perfect way to talk about it. I keep finding unhealthy ways to cope… and I don’t even know how to save them..." His voice cracks as he stares at his fidgeting fingers like they owe him answers

The therapist raises an eyebrow "Ah, I see. So instead of telling anyone and maybe helping your friends, your strategy is to vibe silently in survivor’s guilt until you emotionally implode like a dying star. Bold. Revolutionary. Very DIY Despair"

He jots something on his clipboard, probably a doodle of a stick figure screaming into the void

Elliot scowls "It’s not that simple"

"Oh, of course" the therapist says with mock seriousness. "Because bottling secrets has such a solid track record. Just ask anyone in a horror movie, except, oops, they’re all dead. You’re not the Final Girl, by the way. You’re just the emotionally constipated dude hoarding plot twists"

Bro, Elliot thinks. Is this man even licensed?

Still, he can’t help the corner of his mouth twitching. A smirk escapes, but he quickly schools his face back into a frown like he’s afraid showing joy will void his trauma warranty

"It’s not a joke. They’re suffering. Over there. Still stuck..."

The therapist drops the sass for a moment, face hardening. His voice shifts, less snark, more steel

"I know. And you could’ve been too. But you’re not. You’re here. Which means you’ve got a shot at doing something about it. Unless your master plan really is to sit in my office every week looking like a brooding cryptid with a god complex"

Elliot twitches. Alright, who let this sassy man become a therapist? Is this a real session or an audition for emotionally aggressive TED Talks?

But fine. If the guy wants to spar, Elliot’s not about to back down

"God complex? Seriously? I’m not trying to be anyone’s savior" His tone is more tired than angry now, like someone who’s fought one too many mental battles and lost count of what side he was even on

The therapist shrugs "Could’ve fooled me. You're acting like if you say one wrong word, the universe will Thanos-snap itself out of existence. Hate to break it to you, champ, but you’re not that special"

"And what?" Elliot leans forward, eyes narrowing "You think if I just talk about it, everything magically gets fixed? Like, ‘Hey everyone, remember that unspeakable hell dimension I barely escaped? Let’s go back and have a picnic!’"

"Sure" the therapist grins "Bring s’mores. Trauma’s always tastier when it’s roasted over existential dread"

That actually earns a laugh from Elliot, a wheezy, unexpected bark of laughter that bursts out of him like he’s forgot how to contain it. He slumps back into the chair, catching himself

"God, you're the worst therapist"

"Probably" the man shrugs "But either I’m doing something right, or you’ve got a thing for emotional masochism"

There’s a beat of silence. Then the therapist sets the clipboard aside, actually aside, not theatrically this time, and his voice softens

"Look. You're scared. That makes sense. But hiding the truth to ‘protect’ people? That’s not protection. That’s emotional bubble wrap soaked in guilt. And when it pops? It’s a hell of a mess"

Elliot stares at the ceiling like it has answers. His voice comes out quieter, fragile

"If they get hurt because of me… I don’t think I could handle it"

The therapist nods slowly. No sarcasm. Just words that land like a weighted blanket

" Let people help. Let them choose. Because if you don’t… you’re not saving them. You’re just deciding for them. That’s not protection. That’s control"

A pause.

"Control in a guilt-colored sweater"

Elliot blinks "A sweater?"

The therapist sighs "Fine. Guilt-colored trench coat. Mysterious. Brooding. Very Hot Topic. Very on-brand"

Elliot chuckles, shaking his head "Still a terrible therapist"

"And yet... you laughed. That’s progress, weather Boy"

"Excuse me?" Elliot squints

"Weather Boy. You’ve got that whole ‘stormy internal monologue, may cry at any moment’ vibe going on. Felt right"

"Do I at least get a cape?"

"No capes. Capes are for people who finish emotional processing"

A long pause hangs in the air. Then, without looking up, the therapist casually mutters:

"Jose"

Elliot blinks "What?"

"That’s my name. Jose. And no, we’re not friends. Don’t get ideas. I’m just contractually obligated to humanize myself eventually"

Elliot snorts. "Sure, funny guy"

"So you did give me a nickname"

"Would you like to know iron golem?"

The two dissolve into laughter, the tension cracking like ice under the sun. The kind of laugh you get after months of silence, sharp, ridiculous, necessary

-

-

-

After an hour, Elliot stepped out of the Therapy Center, feeling a little lighter

“So” Mr. Builder whistled as Elliot approached “How was the therapy session?”

Elliot slid into the passenger seat and gave a small smile
“…Not bad” he said, humming a quiet tune under his breath

“Thinking about another one like this sometime?”

“Why not” Elliot murmured.

That simple answer made his father’s smile grow a little brighter. It was a good sign, after all

“You felt safe enough in the space to want to come back, right?”

“…Yeah. Sort of”

And with that, the two of them drove quietly back toward home, the sun soft in the sky, and the weight on Elliot’s shoulders just a little easier to carry

-

-

-

Back home, Elliot walked slowly into the kitchen. It was getting late, and honestly, he didn’t feel like treating himself to a nice dinner tonight

He’d been skipping meals lately, too caught up in analyzing ways to get back to the Forsaken Realm and save everyone
But he was destroying his body at this rate, overworking every organ like it owed him something

“…Maybe spaghetti? Yeah, that sounds nice” he muttered, sighing as he tied on his apron. He rummaged through the cabinets and fridge for ingredients

----

In a large bowl, he mixed together ground meat, breadcrumbs, Parmesan, garlic, parsley, an egg, salt, and pepper, just until it came together. Then he split the mixture into small balls

(Meatballs. Don’t make the ball joke. author will leave the room)

Next to a pot of salted water for the spaghetti, Elliot heated some oil in a skillet, browning the meatballs in batches, turning them so they got crispy on all sides. Set aside

Olive oil. Onions. Medium heat. Cook until soft. Add garlic. Simmer. Ten minutes. Add the meatballs back in. Cover. Another 20–25 minutes

He plated the pasta, spooned the sauce and meatballs on top, and sprinkled extra Parmesan over the whole thing

---

And done. A nice, small dish for dinner

He ate slowly. The taste was… fine? He guessed. Not bad. But it had been a while since he’d eaten anything properly. Whether he liked it or not, he had to eat. He couldn’t save anyone if he keeled over from starvation

As he slurped up another bite, Elliot’s mind drifted back to the plan

Take the Banhammer from Builderman’s office at Roblox HQ

It was his best shot. Which doesn’t mean it was a good one

First problem: the HQ was massive. He had no clue where the office even was

Second: the place was probably guarded tighter than a vault. Worst-case scenario, the Banhammer was being guarded by another admin entirely

So yeah. Stealing it? Almost impossible

Then, like a quiet slap to the face, Jose’s words from that morning echoed in his mind

“You’re not wrong to be scared. But hiding the truth to ‘protect’ people? That’s not protection. That’s control”

…Right

He’d been thinking he had to do everything alone. Carry everything. Fix everything

But maybe he doesn’t need to

Maybe he could ask for help, from the outside. Someone who had the clearance, the knowledge… someone who might’ve escaped the Spectre’s influence

But who?

Snap.

A name hit him like a jolt of lightning

Blinkeyes

Shedletsky’s wife. Former admin.

If he could reach out to her, if she were still around…

That would be really nice.

But how? How the hell was he supposed to contact her?

He was just a pizza worker. The most notable thing about him was being Mr. Builder’s kid

Elliot sighed, glancing down at his plate. He hadn’t even eaten half. He poked one of the meatballs with his fork

His friends are more important

He’d write it down. Pin it up. Make it real. Make sure he didn’t lose this lead

The spaghetti could wait

He rushed to his bedroom like the idea might vanish if he won’t move fast enough. His stomach protested quietly, but he ignored it

One more skipped dinner

Surely, he’d be fine

-

-

-

[Enjoy your meal! Elliot]

 

 

Notes:

4212 words
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hey so just to let you know chapter 12 will come slower, author is going on a family vacation, so yeah, he won’t pay much attention to working on it sorry for the inconvenience XP
Update: ok author has to come back on this chapter and fix a mistake bc SOMEONE here forgot their own hc

Chapter 13: Crank It Open 007n7!!

Summary:

"Right track" is an idiomatic expression that means you're doing things correctly or making progress toward a good or desired outcome

Notes:

✨BACK FROM FAMILY VACATION, BABYYY✨
So…author may or may not have crammed all of chapter 12 into 2.5 days with the energy of a phone on 1% and the constant threat of puking bc motion sickness still cling on me like a side effects

Anyway, sorry for the delay, this was supposed to post last Sunday but life had other ideas :,P

Chapter 12: Crank It Open 007n7!!

“Figured something out yet?” Chance asked, sprawled lazily on an old wooden chair. The wood groaned under his weight, letting out a series of unsettling creaks, like whispers from something ancient and tired

Dusekkar didn’t respond right away. He was hunched over the dimly lit table, eyes scanning the same scattered notes for the hundredth time. Scribbled notes about Planet Voss, none of it made sense, not yet. His fingers clenched the edge of a page, knuckles pale

“You can't figure it all out in just one night, when we’ve got no clues, no end in sight. So maybe instead of watching and ask, you come on over and help me out” he finally muttered, voice taut, fraying at the edge of exhaustion

You’re supposed to be smart one

You’ve always been

There must be a solution!

Think. Think Dusekkar

Chance tilted his head and grinned. “C’mon, Dusekkar. You’re supposed to be the smart one. You’ve always been man”

Dusekkar sighed sharply and shoved the wrinkled map of Planet Voss toward him. The paper fluttered in the air before Chance caught it with one hand, almost effortlessly

He gave it a lazy glance, until something caught his eye: a faint red circle, drawn wide and uneven across the southern quadrant

“You see that red circle? Faint but wide, that’s where I think Elliot died. The air went still, the sky went gray, and something in him slipped away. They say you’re good with charts and signs, with numbers, shapes, and hidden lines, so maybe you could help me see, just where he stopped… where he ceased to be"

“…”

“…Ohh. Yeah. Sure, man,” Chance finally replied, nodding slowly as he started decoding the rhythm in his head. “Took me a sec, but I’m with you now”

He leaned in closer, dragging his fingers gently across the paper

“…So, uh. Pumpkin guy…” he began tentatively, eyes still on the map “You think Elliot’ll be fine? Y’know… still breathing? Still out there?”

Dusekkar’s head turned sharply

“Nay, thou mistakest me, I am not he, whom folk call Pumpkin in jest or plea. I am Dusekkar, whose voice hath echoed through shadow and Robloxia. Yet in mine heart, a hope still clings, that Elliot lives, and broke his bindings. If whispered lore and dreams be right, then he hath vanished into light. O may that tale, though frail, be true, and lead him hence to life anew”

“Dude… how did Builderman or Shedletsky even understand you back in the day?” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face “Like, did y’all have subtitles floating above your heads or something?”

Dusekkar gave no answer, only a faint, inscrutable smile.

“Whatever” Chance grumbled “Let’s get this figured out. He’s out there. I know it”

A quiet determination settled in his voice, low and grounding. He looked back at the map with renewed focus, fingers tapping the table in a steady rhythm

“Yo, lend me a few blank pages and a pen” he said, snapping his fingers “I think I’ve got something”

Without hesitation, Dusekkar handed him a worn leather-bound journal and an ink pen with a frayed tip. Chance didn’t ask why Dusekkar had them ready. He’d learned not to question that kind of thing

“Time to put your my brain together and locked the fuck in” Chance muttered, already scribbling symbols and tracing lines from the red circle outward

Dusekkar said nothing. He just watched, silent and still, the light casting long shadows over his face

The two enjoy the short quiet moment, only the sound of paper scribble from The cabin grew quiet, save for two distinct sounds: the soft, steady scratch of Chance's pen across paper, and the far more frantic rustling of Dusekkar tearing through their accumulated clues. He’d write down a theory, pause, scowl and rip it into frustrated shreds, deeming it too far-fetched even for Planet Voss

Despite the chaos, the moment held a strange stillness. The kind that only lives on the edge of a cliff 

Then Chance jolted upright like he’d been struck by lightning

“YO! FOUND IT!” he shouted, grinning like a madman who just hit the cosmic jackpot. He grabbed the paper and practically launched himself across the room, slapping it onto Dusekkar’s face. “Lookie look LOOK, Duse!”

Dusekkar blinked once, peeled the paper off his pumpkin-like head, and began to read as Chance rattled off information like a caffeinated conspiracy theorist

“Located in the northeast quadrant. On the white-tiled base, corner of the map. Just southwest of the red circle, not on the white platform, but in the surrounding grass. Could be hidden behind a tree or object, depending on the angle. Coordinates roughly X = 78–80, Y = 30–32!”

He gasped for air, eyes sparkling with the thrill of discovery

Dusekkar, ever the contrast, calmly examined the paper, nodding once... twice. Then, with a faint smile, he slid the sheet into the corner of the table, reserved for things that mattered

“This shall serve us well in seeking the flaw, that haunts the depths of distant Voss' law. I thank thee, Chance, for wisdom shared, thy aid is known, thy heart is bared!” The orb inside Dusekkar faint glow shimmered through his carved eyes, brighter than before. It flickered, warm and brief, before he tamped it down. Duty demanded he stay focused

The cabin door creaked open

“Uh… g-guys? I got Two Time here, like you told me to...” 007n7 said, peeking in with a sheepish expression. Behind him stood Two Time, grinning in that unsettling, ever-serene way that never quite reached his eyes. The cultist’s constant smile had long stopped surprising anyone, but that didn’t make it less unnerving

Dusekkar turned his head slowly, like a beast sniffing trouble

 “Was it thee who bade 007n7 bring the cultist here? If so, I know thy choice was…interesting” he said as he glided past them, casting Two Time a glance sharp enough to cut bone. Then he sighed and looked back to Chance, his scowl deepening

“Hey, hey, relax!” Chance beamed, patting 007n7 on the back “Thanks for the help, man. Honestly, without you, I probably would've stalled another two hours before actually bring Two Time here. You saved my butt”

“Ha… you’re welcome…” 007n7 replied, offering a shy smile

“Geez, you’re always so reserved!” Chance exclaimed, gripping both of 7n7’s shoulders. “C’mon, I know you got some fire in there, big guy! Show me that confidence!”

“Y-yeah… sure, Chance…” the ex-exploiter murmured, awkwardly laughing as he looked down at his shoes. Dusekkar’s disdainful huff from across the room didn’t go unheard

Then came the voice of the Spawn’s devotee

“I have heeded your call and I come in the name of the Spawn,” Two Time said, stepping inside like a shadow draped in silk “May Its gaze fall upon you, and may you know the comfort of Its ever-reaching presence. Speak your woes, for I shall offer them to the Spawn, and in Its mercy, they shall fade. Yes... yes, all things fade. Let go. Let it all go. The Spawn provides. The Spawn knows”

Dusekkar didn’t flinch. But his contempt was palpable

 “Go, speak with Chance, and that broken knave beside him. Better wasted breath than thy ceaseless hymn. Thy cult, thy chants, they serve thee naught, save empty noise and borrowed thought” Dusekkar scowl, not even care enough to make eye contact with Two Time

“Ohoho...” Two Time cooed, tilting his head. “I sense my presence unsettles you. May the Spawn bless this moment and reveal to me the roots of your resistance. I come only in peace. Speak, so I may offer understanding...and the Spawn’s embrace”

Dusekkar gave him nothing. No word. No glance.

He strode past Two Time, approaching the others with several papers and notes in hand. The conversation resumed as if the cultist were dust on the wind

“So 'tis concluded by means unknown, The Spectre hath barred us from Voss alone. That cursed place where Elliot was lost, where silence fell, and lines were crossed. The bug, unseen, hath stirred that round, slipped through the cracks without a sound. Spectre holds us yet at bay, which means the flaw hath not decayed. It lingers still, and so does time…to seek the truth, to trace the sign” He stopped suddenly and pointed a directly at 007n7, voice slicing through the room like a blade.

“And so, to breach Planet Voss ere The Spectre grant us leave, I find myself placing trust, however bitter in thee, 007n7. Thy tool, the so-called c00lgui, a lesser craft by thine own claim, yet perhaps even Spectre hath failed to see its worth. Mayhap, within its flawed design, lurks a loophole... slight, but true. Break us through, if thou canst not for glory, nor pride, but because, despite thy faults, thou may yet serve a purpose”

Chance leaned over and whispered helpfully “Translation: he wants you to see if your old exploit tool can bypass Spectre’s lockdown”

“O-oh! Uh… well, I dunno. I haven’t exactly… tested it after The Spectre kidnapped me” 007n7 stammered. “And I-I mean, I don’t want to act like I’m proud of… those skills, or anything…”

“You won’t know unless you try, man.” Chance flicked his coin into the air, catching it with a grin. “Like I always say, 99% of gamblers quit before they win big”

007n7 took a breath. It was shaky… but real

“R-right. I’ll try my best”

Dusekkar unrolled the map again and tapped a spot near the red circle, with some calculation around it written by Chance a few minutes ago

“Here lies the place where Elliot met his end. Should we return to Voss once more, let this be where thy path must bend. Reach the bug find what was missed, before The Spectre wraps us in its fist”

“So yeah” Chance added, cheerfully blunt, “our whole operation hinges on you punching a hole to Planet Voss with a lesser version of c00lgui in your hand which might fail, no pressure!”

“Wait- WHAT?” 007n7 flinched, panic rising in his throat. “N-no, no, I don’t think it’s a good idea to trust someone like me-” 007n7 looked down at his shaking hands. Then up at Chance, at Dusekkar, and even at Two Time, still smiling like a statue carved in unsettling grace

“I place my trust in thee, 007n7, though our past be stained, and far from kind. This once… I’ll believe in thee. For I have seen it a shift, a spark, as though the one I knew is not the one who stands here now. Mayhap… thou hast changed” He did not say it easily. He did not say it without scars

Dusekkar allowed himself a brief glance at 007n7. The name alone sent a shiver through memory. Countless incidents flashed before him: those endless emails from co-workers discussing how to get rid of 007n7 and frustrated devs telling admins to fix the problems. The chaos 007n7 once brewed had not just left marks, sleepless nights, it carved trenches in Dusekkar’s very patience

To be forced to work with him now, alongside Two Time no less?

Dusekkar clenched his jaw

Builderman’s decision had felt like mockery

"I know you can deal with them, Matt!" Shedletsky had said, grinning like a doofus as he prepares for another twisted game from The Spectre

“We did plan to replaced 007n7 with Guest to your team, but I believe that 007n7 might be a big help now. He got sparks. You’ll see”

So Dusekkar hoped
He really hoped

“I-I won’t disappoint you guys!” 007n7 finally spoke, voice wavering at first, but he squared his shoulders, speaking again with a firmer edge

“That’s more like it! Go get it, my guy!” Chance whooped, suddenly warping his arm around 007n7’s neck in a playful headlock, ruffling his hair with a laugh

“Blessed be our way,” a new voice rang out behind them, rhythmic, theatrical, already deep in some incantation. “By the Spawn’s gaze… through long hours and aching limbs, may It guide us. The Spawn sees. The Spawn knows. The Spawn protect-"

“Thy cult grows tiresome, Two Time” Dusekkar cut in flatly, not even turning to look. His voice chilled the cabin like frost “Choke back thy hymns, or leave us be”

Two Time, still smiling, always smiling, tilted their head, unbothered “Ah… if my presence burdens you, then perhaps it is not yet your time to receive the Spawn’s light. I shall take my leave… but know this” they said, already moving toward the door “the Spawn watches still, and it remembers”

The door shut behind them with a click

“…Dude” Chance blinked, loosening his grip around 007n7’s neck “Did Two Time like… ate the strawberry on top of your cake or something? Why are you so scornful- or like, angry at them?”

Everyone knew it. Dusekkar barely disguised it. From the day he was kidnapped into Forsaken Realm, his disdain toward Two Time was undeniable. He refused to engage with them, barely acknowledged their presence, and even during rounds, had refuse to protect them more than once. It was personal

Deeply so

“I’ve no wish to stand beside such folly” Dusekkar finally said, voice like a snarl caught in poetry “One who kneels to tales of ‘The Spawn’ as if wisdom were but nothing and song. Their mind, it seems, runs shallow and wide, a well of nonsense dressed in acts”

“…Damn” Chance whispered, eyebrows rising

“How high their foolishness doth climb, a marvel, truly… and a waste of time” Dusekkar continued, arms crossed “Yes, it is absurd! ‘The Spawn’? Ha! A fairy tale the dim repeat. No god, no truth, no pulse, no heat. I am nature-born, wild and wise, my breath outlives their sacred lies. I know the weave of respawns, not some cult’s chant or shrine that burns. Their faith is mockery dressed in rot, a mask worn tight but truth is not”

“…whoa,” 007n7 murmured, hand slowly rising to his mouth. “I… I never knew the Spawn was a hoax…”

“I smell the blood they tried to hide” Dusekkar growled “the guilt, the sin, beneath their mask. No act, no hymn escapes my gaze. Their hoax shall burn. Let reason blaze”

A long silence followed

Even Chance, usually quick with a joke or smooth comment, didn’t say anything

Then, to break the tension, he reached for the nearest stack of papers on the desk and grinned nervously “A-anyways! Let’s… uh, continue that discussion about the Planet Voss bug, right gang?”

007n7 tilted his head and plucked a paper from Chance’s hands, reading aloud: “This one’s a theory about Spectre secretly loving Hello Kitty pajama pants…”

“…what?” Chance blinked

“…what?” 007n7 echoed

Dusekkar gave him a look. A very specific, ancient, disappointed kind of look

“…Let’s put that back where it belongs” 007n7 chuckled awkwardly, slipping the paper back into the chaos pile

---

Yet little did they know
Someone had been listening the entire time

Two Time

Pressed against the wall, breath shallow, they slid down slowly, limbs numb and trembling. Dusekkar’s words echoed like knives in their ears, over and over, each syllable carving out another piece of belief, of identity

The smile
Still lingered, frozen on their face like a mask they could no longer peel off.

Their breath hitched

The world spun

And before they even realized it, they were running, feet scraping the soil, crashing through underbrush

Tears streaked their cheeks
Hot. Relentless. Unseen

No

No no no no no
There’s no way
No way The Spawn is a hoax
That would mean

𝔄 ͧZ̛ 𝖚 ͘ 𝓻 ̴ 𝔈 ̛ …

Thud

Their steps faltered
Their legs gave out
They collapsed into the dirt

No

No no no no no…

Not him

The sacrifice
It had to mean something

They killed 𝔄͝Z̷𝓾͠𝖗͞Ɛ̕…
For nothing

NOTHING.

They still remembered
The warmth of his hand, clutching theirs
The way he smiled, even through pain, even as his chest trembled with barely hidden fear
The whispered words just before the end

“I love you”

…

………

H-Ahaha…
Hahahahahaha…
HAHAHHAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH

NOTHING.
NOTHING AT ALL

GOOD JOB, TWO TIME
You killed your world
Your lover
Your everything
For something that doesn’t even EXIST

YOU FOOL

“NO CUT IT OFF!” they screamed, tripping again, face scraping the dirt. They pushed themselves back up, hands raw and shaking

Limping, stumbling, they finally made it to the cabin door, only to collapse again, curling up tightly on the cold ground

Their breath wouldn’t slow
Their thoughts wouldn’t stop
Every neuron screamed

Their very skin turned pale, drained by a grief that had no bottom

They pressed their hands together tightly, trembling

It must be fake! Dusekkar’s filthy words about Spawn IS FAKE!!

n-no…Dusekkar wouldn’t lie about something like that!...h-he’s has far more knowledge than normal people…Dusekkar might be r-right…

Their hands shook violently, fingers twitching like wires frayed and sparking. Yet still they clasped them together, desperate, trembling, devout

Their voice was no longer steady. It quivered. Cracked. Croaked through parched lips and grit-stuffed teeth

Yet still… they recited

 “Still your thoughts… still your fear… let the silence stretch long…” they whispered, voice broken “A-And hear… hear the breath of The Spawn… within it… In stillness… It speaks…”

Desperate. Hollow

“S-Still your thoughts. Still your fear. Let th-e silence stretch lo-long… and hear the b-breath of the Spawn within it. In stillness, it speaks"

The S-Spawn! I-IS REAL!

Their smile twitched again. Wider. More strained. Eyes glassy, unfocused.

“We open our minds, our fl-esh, our trembling hearts…guide us through this waking dream of s-sorrow and fire…Bless our footsteps t-through the long shifts, the sleepless…hours, the empty bellies…L-Let Your will curl around us like smoke. Let Your truth root in…our bones!"

RIGHT

The voice inside them screamed louder now

"Spawn b-be praised…Its will is mercy. Its gaze is endless"

Y-YES!

“Devour us, O Spawn. Make us whole!”

Their expression twisted

Yes

Dusekkar is wrong
Blinded by his own pride
He doesn’t see the truth

 

𝔄𝖅𝖚𝖗𝔈 didn’t die for nothing

He’s part of them now

He’s happy.

He must be happy.

H-He’s VERY happy!!

Because of The Spawn

The Spawn watches
The Spawn waits
The Spawn knows
The Spawn takes

Two Time began to laugh

Then cry

Then laugh again

And again

And again

Their voice broke like glass with every cycle

The Spawn watches.

The Spawn waits.

The Spawn knows.

The Spawn takes.

The Spawn watches.

The Spawn waits.

The Spawn knows.

The Spawn takes.

The Spawn watches.

The Spawn waits.

The Spawn knows.

The Spawn takes.

They pressed their forehead to the ground, whispering, sobbing, giggling

The. Spawn. Is. Real.

-

-

-

Then they wake up

Two Time blinks slowly, their breath soft and uncertain

They find themselves standing in a vast, sun-drenched field of flowers. A gentle wind dances across the meadow, brushing against their cheeks like a whispered lullaby. The golden light of the afternoon sun bathes everything in a warm, hazy glow. The flowers sway lazily, as if singing in harmony with the breeze

For a moment, everything feels perfect

Safe

The wind pass by, brushes against their ears, whispering comfort, seems to murmur that they’re safe

That everything is fine and nothing bad has happened

And Two Time wants to believe it
Here, they feel peace. The tightness in their chest eases. They think… they’re safe.
They’re safe here

Crunch
Crunch

The sound snaps through the field like a crack in the dream.
Footsteps.

Two Time flinches, eyes wide, their head whipping around in search of the source, the sound of footfalls crushing flower stems, disrupting the fragile quiet. Their heart stutters

And then they see them

Oh dear Spawns

A figure approaches, not just beautiful, no. They are beyond beauty. Something else entirely, something divine. Unreachable

A witch’s hat bobs with each graceful step. A few strand of coffee-brown hair dances in the wind like silken ribbons. Their doe eyes shine like sunlight reflecting on spring water. And their smile, Spawns above, that smile…it could melt a glacier, unravel time, undo death itself

Two Time feels their knees weaken

It’s him

It’s their beloved

He carries a small bouquet of Begonia in one hand, their fingers cradling the stems with gentle

“Oh, my dear Nightshade!” they call out, voice as warm as sun-soaked honey

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You had me worried sick”

Two Time’s lips part, stunned “O-oh… right… I… I’m sorry…”

Their voice is small, unsure. They take hesitant steps forward

But the other only beams brighter “Oh, silly! Don’t apologize. What matters is I found you!” He twirls, one arm outstretched, the other held the bouquet tight “I heard this field has hundreds of kinds of flowers! I was hoping to find some of my favorites…”

“I wish you the best luck, then” Two Time says, smiling softly “May the Spawn bless your search!”

They feel… at peace again. Warmth floods their chest, seeping into their bones like sunlight. Being around their love, their darling, it feels like all the broken pieces inside them stop rattling for just a moment

“So” he asks sweetly “how have your days been?”

“It’s… good. I completed my prayers. The Spawn… must be proud of us, right?”

“Oh, absolutely! I’m sure our god is smiling down, especially on you, Two Time!” They wink “Such a devoted believer”

Two Time flushes “You’re too kind! You silly Camellia…”

“Camellia?” Their angel gasps in delight “Is that a new nickname? Then I shall call you Dandelion! Because you’re like a dream that drifts on the wind, a wish come true…”

“Hey, hey! Did you suddenly learn pick-up lines now or-”

“Foolish wishes. Delusions. Chasing illusions. Just like you”

Two Time blinks

“…Wha?-”

“Is something wrong, Timey?” their lover asks, head tilting in concern

Two Time stares. They blink again

Everything seemed fine. But something’s change

The flowers seem duller now. The wind colder. That radiant smile remains, but it’s cracked, like porcelain under pressure. And then, with a blink, the vision shifts

Blood

Thick, dark blood drips from their beloved’s lips and down their chest, soaking the front of their clothes. The bouquet wilts in their hand, crimson droplets staining the once-bright petals of the Begonias, drenched in red

Two Time gasps “NO!-”

They lurch forward, arms outstretched, panic setting in “You’re- y-you’re hurt! Dear Spawn! We have to go, back to the cult! the others- our god! The Spawn! they can help! The Spawn will save you! O-or I-I’ll be the one to save you! I-I will help-”

But their partner only laughs, soft and dreamlike. Almost distant

“I’ll miss the way you look at me” they say, voice low and sweet like a lullaby “Because love is a strange thing, isn’t it?”

They step closer. Blood smears their fingertips as they reach out, cupping Two Time’s face

“We all want love to last… but instead, we built prisons for each other”

“No, no- please, stop talking like that, everything will be fine, I promise, come on! The Spawn will protect us-”

Two Time’s hands tremble, trying to hold the other steady, to stop the bleeding, to hold on to something. But their beloved is fading, slipping through their fingers like flower petals on the wind

Their darling remains still in place, injured and smile warmly, they shake their head, they place on Two Time’s palm something

A yellow flower. Grey-green leaves.
A Celandine

Their voice is barely more than a whisper now

“Oh, Two Time… you didn’t even remember my name”

Their gaze is distant now. Empty. Dimming like a dying star

“How… Hydrangea of you, my dear”

Two Time opens their mouth to scream, to beg, to say something-

“Wake up, my love”

And then…

Everything collapses.

The world shatters like a mirror. The golden light disappears. The flowers wilt. The sky turns black. Two Time falls backward, weightless, swallowed by the void. A pit of nothing

Only silence follows

-

-

“are you sure? Two Time looks unwell to me”

“He shall be fine, all rests beneath my steady hand”

“If you say so man”

Two Time jolts upright with a sharp gasp, lungs aching like they’ve been holding their breath through a nightmare

Oh

They’re back. Back in their cabin

The dim glow of the lantern above hums softly. The air smells faintly of old wood, incense

Standing near the bedside are Dusekkar and Chance, watching with mixed expressions, one calm and unreadable, the other visibly curious

“Oh goodness! You’re awake!” Chance exclaims, his smile crooked and full of energy

“007n7’s in the kitchen makin’ soup for you. Feeling alright? You got knocked out real good!” He whistles with exaggerated flair

“Bless the Spawn… Its Will endures” Two Time murmurs, painting a strained smile across their face like slipping on a mask “Tell me, how long was I unconscious? And… by what grace was I returned here? Was it the Spawn who carried me back?”

Chance snorts before responding, but Dusekkar speaks first, arms crossed neatly over his chest

“Credit to Chance, he felt somethings wrong, insisted we come, as if doom was ahead” He hovers a bit closer to the door, tone flat, eyes avoiding

click

And then, with the kind of smooth, unbothered motion only an admin could muster, Dusekkar glides out of the cabin. The door closes behind him. A quiet exit that screams “I don’t want to be here anymore”

“Pffft. Yeah, says the guy who still helped carry you in” Chance laughs, rubbing the back of his neck

“Sure, maybe it was minimal help. Cold. Reluctant. But hey, it was still help! Take it or leave it, creepy guy” He grins wide

But Two Time doesn’t respond

Their eyes drop to their hand, still clenched. Still trembling slightly

Inside their fist, slightly crushed but unmistakably there

A Celandine

“Ah, right!” Chance perks up, noticing “That little flower! You were gripping it like your life depended on it. Seriously, we couldn’t even pry it out! Dusekkar said it was poisonous but since we can’t take it out, we resulted to Dusekkar put some spell on you. Real dramatic about it too. Said something like, ‘It’s not for them. It’s so I don’t get blamed later’ blah blah blah”

Two Time doesn’t laugh

They just smile, a smile they always stick on their very own face

They stare at the flower for a long moment, thumb brushing its soft, bruised petals

The yellow’s dimmer now. Faded. Like it’s been through something terrible too

And slowly, silently, they reach over and place it on their nightstand

The petals shift slightly under the lantern light

-

-

-

Okay this is completely out of context, but the I would like to apologize for suddenly stretching this chapter a bit longer for this

It’s just author finally finished drawing their beautiful, glorious sweetheart, and there’s no one to show it to. None of their friends play Forsaken. And author being way too much of a coward to show it to his family

So out of pure desperation, zero brain cells, and being certified bitchless and legally very stupid, author has chosen to share it here. With his dear readers

Now I’m not the best artist. But I try my best. And if you don’t like it, that’s okay! Just gently walk away like you didn’t see anything. I promise, this will be the last time you see me drop my art!!! :,)

 

Notes:

4400 words
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Did you know?
-Camellia means admiration, sweetness, perfection
-Celandine might look cute but it has a negative meaning, Celandine means false hope!
-Dandelion means innocence, wishes, fleeting dreams. but also means foolish wishes, delusions, chasing illusions
-Begonia symbolize caution, thoughtfulness, and gratitude, like it's screaming "Beware; I'm warning you about trouble" to us!

Chapter 14: Bug Infection

Summary:

"Professional Pest Control Service" is a business or individual licensed and trained to manage, prevent, and eliminate pests like insects, rodents, termites, and other unwanted animals from homes, businesses, and other properties

Notes:

Hello, I'm evil Elifsoftware >:(

and today, I'll present you, a chapter with almost no angst >:)

MUAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAH

Chapter 13: Bug Infection

Another beautiful day in everyone’s favorite heavily understaff, ‘super professional’, and questionably licensed pizzeria, where customers might come for the food but stay for the comedy show. And this morning? Oh, this morning is nothing short of a joke

Sean is in the kitchen, slouched over the table like a deflated balloon, face smushed against the old, wooden texture as he stares into the abyss of flour dust. His soul is halfway to purgatory, patiently waiting for the next online order to ruin his life. Meanwhile, the two kitchen clowns, aka Luke and Richard are having the time of their damn lifes

Richard, with the devil’s glint in his eyes and the energy of a caffeinated person, is mashing all the dough balls together into one monstrous hybrid blob. Luke is sprinting around him in chaotic circles, giggling like a mad scientist and occasionally barking like a dog. Somewhere out there, a horror movie director just sensed a disturbance in the force

“Yo, Sean” Luke calls out, peeking over to the guy

“…”

“Sean the MC keennnn”

“….”

“Seaaan helloooooo???”

Sean inhales like he’s about to summon a storm. And then it happens, he snaps into a speed-rant so powerful it could peel paint off walls

“What, Luke?! Don’t tell me you think it’s a brilliant idea to drag me into your dough-dinosaur-sculpture nonsense, expecting I’ll join your powdered-flour cult of powered imagination which, by the way, is basically playing with someone else’s food, which is SO unhygienic and you think I’ll enjoy it but NO I can’t because I have something called shame, and maybe also self-preservation because if we mess up the kitchen again, our manager is going to come at us with a broom like an angry Italian when someone put pineapple on their pizza, and I’m 90% sure he’ll skin us alive! And let’s not forget, we should’ve been fired three months ago if this place wasn’t so understaffed we’re basically employees AND a bunch of clowns. We’re like Identity V players during rank sessions, sweaty, desperate, and being chased by horrors”

He says all that in one breath. One. No pauses. No punctuation. The kitchen falls silent

“Okay! OKAY! We get it!” Luke slaps a hand over Sean’s mouth before the man turns blue

“Anyway, you guys wanna build a dinosaur outta dough?” Richard grins, already shaping something that might legally be classified as a war crime

“Oh hell yeah” Sean replies instantly, like he didn’t just suffer a verbal seizure two seconds ago

Samantha, who has been quietly judging from a distance, rolls her eyes so hard they nearly pop out “Yeah no. I see the future, and it includes Elliot going full broom-swinging banshee mode. You three are on your own”

“Elliot wouldn’t actually hold a grudge that long” Luke shrugs

“Yeah, he’s way too kind-hearted” Richard adds “Unless we really push him. Then he turns into an eldritch entity with a red visor”

And so, despite every warning and moral compass in sight, the trio begins their floury descent into dough-anarchy. They sculpt. They mold. They build something that definitely doesn’t resemble a dinosaur but might be used to summon one

As Richard shapes the “body” he peeks at Luke’s creation

“…Hey uh, what’s that supposed to be?”

Luke frowns “It’s the eyeballs”

“Oh…”

“Did you think it was a toenail?”

“I was about to praise your attention to detail”

“No worries, I just made a toenail!” Sean chirps, proudly presenting a weirdly spiky dough lump

“That’s worse, Sean,” the other two reply in dead unison

“At least I tried! Yours, Richard, is just… a ball”

“It’s abstract!” Richard defends himself

Luke tries to keep molding but keeps twitching “Dude, Richard, stop poking me! I’m trying to focus!”

“I’m not touching you”

“…Then who-”

Luke turns to grab what he assumes is “Richard’s finger”, only to realize it’s not warm. Or human

Everyone watches in horror as Luke lifts his hand to see it squirming. Twitching

A cockroach. A big, juicy, God-forsaken cockroach

Its legs wiggle like interpretive dance. Its antennae sway like evil palm trees in a tropical nightmare

Luke’s soul exits his body instantly

“MAMA A ROACHHHH!!” Luke screams like a Victorian child witnessing a ghost, hurling the insect away with Superman-level strength. It slams onto the wall, skittering across the floury battlefield

Luke leaps straight onto Sean’s back, wrapping around his neck like a panicked koala.

Sean, now suffocating, chokes out, “WHY DO YOU ALWAYS CHOOSE ME FOR THIS?!”

“MAKE IT STOP, SEAN, IT HAS WINGS!!”

“Oh no…” Samantha mutters “It’s evolving”

The cockroach lifts its wings like the world’s ugliest angel. Sean goes full battle mode, grabs the roach with a fist of fury, and yells “I’M THROWING IT OUT!! Luke stop choking me or I swear I’ll pass away like a tragic anime character!”

With one swift motion, Sean hurls the roach like a grenade just as the kitchen door swings open

“Hey guys, I heard screaming, is everyth-”

SPLAT

…

Today had been, by all accounts, perfect for Cody.

He clocked in on time, got his apron tied without strangling himself

A personal win

The customers were all unnaturally polite, two old ladies tipped him just for smiling, and even the manager, yes, the manager who usually speaks the annoyed tone, patted his back and told him he was “getting the hang of things”

Cody was soaring. He was invincible. He was the almost no longer the newbie of the pizzeria

And then he heard the screaming

From the kitchen

The kitchen

The warzone

The Bermuda Triangle

The black hole of logic and sanity

But Cody… Cody was a good employee. And more importantly, a good friend. So he straightened his name tag, sucked in a breath of falsely hopeful air, and opened the kitchen door-

Just in time to catch a full-sized cockroach to the chest

SMACK.

Time froze.

The creature latched on

Its crunchy shell cold against his shirt. Its tiny demon feet scrabbling. Its antennae brushing his neck

Cody’s smile died so fast it left a fart behind

His body locked. His soul evacuated. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny voice screamed “Why?...”

“Alright, that’s it, this little shit is dead!!” Samantha charging into frame like the exorcist. With the wrath of a thousand dish shifts, she smacked the roach off Cody and sprayed the ever-loving hell out of it with insecticide

The roach gave one final twitch

Cody gave one final gasp

And then he just… stood there. Catatonic. Betrayed by the universe

Samantha turned and gently pressed a broom into his frozen hands, like a soldier handing a weapon to their leader “Here you go”

She walked off to find another broom to clean up the carnage, muttering “Gonna need a priest too, at this rate…”

Cody, still stuck in place, stared at the broom in his hands like it was a cursed artifact. Somewhere behind his glazed-over eyes, he was reliving everything

He came to check on his friends. He wanted to help. And what did he get in return?

A direct hit from the ultimate enemy

The roach. The beast. The harbinger of despair

It was Luke’s scream that shook Cody back to life
“OH MY GOD SAMANTHA I THINK I SWALLOWED A LEG I CAN TASTE THE FEAR-”

Cody blinked

Then turned to Sean

Sean, still recovering from being used as a panic perch, looked over, only to see Cody marching toward him like a terminator in a customer-service uniform, broom raised like a divine weapon of justice

“Uh- Cody? Hey, buddy? I didn’t mean to hit you, like, technically, I was aiming for Richard-”

“Richard was next to me”

“…Details?”

With the gentlest of smiles, Elliot placed a hand on Cody’s shoulder and said

“Use this whenever the others cause trouble for you, okay?”

Cody didn’t speak. He just nodded

Something inside him shifted

That line from Elliot? It was no casual remark. It was a vow. A blessing . A contract signed in blood

Justice would be served

And today is the day

-

-

Would you look at that! A sunny day outside, birds are singing, flowers are blooming, on days like this, kids like you should be-

Wait. Hold on. Is that Sans from Undertale?-

ANYWAY!!

We’ll move on to our newest worker of the Builder Brother’s Pizzeria! Cody Nicholls!!

Our newest ray of sunshine! With his freshly gifted uniform, wide-eyed innocence, and hopes that this job wouldn’t slowly chip away at his mental health
Oh wow! Look what we have here! A Cody Nicholls gone feral! Hey, hold on…WOAH THERE CODY-

“I SWEAR IF I DON’T MAUL YOU TODAY, THEN I’M A BITCH!!!” Tears stream down his face like he’s in a tragic K-drama, rage bubbling from the emotional trauma of earlier events. And who’s the target of his revenge arc?

Sean

Who’s running like his life depends on it

Because it does

weaving between Richard and Smantha, screaming like a kid in a haunted house

“PEOPLE! HELP!!” Sean shouts as he skids around Samantha

Richard, who’s been dramatically shedding  non-existing tears nearby, lifts one hand to his chest
“Yeah, no. I saw him aim. That cockroach was meant for me. I almost felt special”
He sniffles and wipes an invisible tear

Samantha casually polishes the spotless floor, not even looking up

“Anyway, today’s shift is gonna be wild”

Meanwhile, Luke is still clinging to Sean like a frightened baby koala strapped to a rollercoaster
“Bro, run faster! I’m scared of Cody!”
“LUKE, HE’S NOT EVEN GOING AFTER YOU, GET OFF!!”
“NO!! I HAVE BROOM PTSD NOW!!”

Sean’s face is already red. Between sprinting, screaming, and carrying a full-grown man on his shoulders, his veins look ready to pop like overcooked sausages

And just when it couldn’t get worse

The back door creaks open

A calm breeze enters the chaos

There he is

Bright red uniform, perfectly clean with not a wrinkle in sight. His red visor is tilted just right over kind eyes. A neat little ponytail bobs behind him like it holds all his sanity together

It’s Elliot

He’s only been gone for 15 minutes on delivery

Now he returns to find his kitchen turned into a battlefield. Richard’s lounging like he’s at a spa, Samantha’s looking for more non-existing dust on the same exact spot to clean, Sean is sprinting in circles with Luke acting as an emotional scarf, and Cody is seconds away from committing broom-icide

Elliot takes one long, heavy look

Only one word comes to mind

What the fuck

“ELLIOT!” Sean cries with desperate joy, like a man spotting land after 84 years lost at sea. He flings himself forward and tackles Elliot with the force of a thousand regrets

“WOAH! Woah!!” Elliot nearly fall down to the floor “What happened?! Why are you- why is everyone?!-”

“Don’t let him hide behind you! HE’S PLAYING DIRTY!!” Cody charges forward with his broom held like a knight’s lance

Sean, still clinging to Elliot like a human barnacle, sticks his tongue out from behind Elliot’s shoulder “You’ll never catch me alive, angy boy”

“Okay, STOP!” Elliot yells, now holding Sean by the collar like a squirming cat “One, Sean, get off me. Two, LUKE?! How long have you been up there?!”

He looks up. Luke is on Sean’s shoulders, almost grazing the roof

“Don’t look down!!” Luke whispers “The floor is betrayal!!”

“Someone explain NOW”

Cody points his trembling broom at Sean’s face. “He threw a cockroach at me. A cockroach!! I opened the door to check if you all were okay and BAM! Face full of six-legged hellspawn”

Sean gasps dramatically “Excuse me!? I was aiming at Richard!”

“That’s not better!!” Cody screeches

Elliot raises an eyebrow, already tired “That still doesn’t make it okay, Sean”

Sean scoff “Sure it does. Think about it, throwing a cockroach at Richard, an oversized clown? Kind of justified. Throwing it at poor baby Cody, fresh on the job and full of hope? That’s an inhuman disaster”

There’s a long pause

Elliot sighs

“...He’s not wrong” he mumbles

“HELLO???” Richard screeches from the sidelines “THAT STILL HURTS!! I HAVE FEELINGS TOO, Y’KNOW!”

Cody turns to Elliot, teary-eyed and twitchy “Am I allowed to swing the broom now? Just once?”

Elliot puts a hand on his shoulder and nods solemnly

“Use it wisely, Cody”

Cody nods back “I’ll remember this moment forever”

And with that, the chase resumes

-

-

“So... you’re telling me those bugs are getting more and more out of control lately?” Elliot asked, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, standing like a war general staring into a battlefield that just so happened to be their kitchen

“Yup” Sean said, half-limping from his earlier roach trauma “I saw three yesterday doing the conga line across the table”

“One tried to get into my shoe” Samantha added. “It winked at me.”

“I declare we fight back!” Luke yelled triumphantly, slamming a mop handle into the floor like a battle flag “We take the war to them! Pest control? Nah. We’re in our twenties. We got reflexes. Brain cells. Rage. We’ll be fine”

Elliot winced

Oh god, he’s heard this speech before

Memories flooded back, even before Sean was hired, when the bug problem had gotten so bad yet he tried to handle it alone. He sprayed, he swatted, he screamed… he sobbed. He saw things that day. Things that changed him. The walls had moved. The floor had clicked

But Luke’s optimism was like a virus. Contagious, and unkillable

“Can’t we just… call actual pest control?” Elliot pleaded weakly

Luke grinned “Elliot, my brother. We are the pest control.”

God help them all

With a heavy sigh, Elliot informed the manager, who upon hearing the phrase “bug outbreak level: biblical” allowed them to temporarily close the pizzeria

Customers were refunded. Signs were flipped. It was time

Luke, having disappeared for five whole minutes, burst back through the kitchen door like a cartoon character ready for war

“I HAVE RETURNED!”

He wore swimming goggles. A bandana around his mouth. Duct-taped gloves. He held an armful of insecticide sprays

“Where the hell did you even get all that?” Sean blinked

“Richard’s closet” Luke said proudly.

“...Why does Richard have that in his closet- actually never mind” Samantha waved it off

“Alright! Somebody help me move the table They’re nesting under it. I know it”

The group collectively groaned, but with teamwork

And some arguing

They lifted the heavy metal table. Dust swirled into the air

And then…

Silence

They peeked under

And froze

“...Holy fuck” Sean whispered, stepping back like he’d just seen God and God was made of legs and antennas

Thousands. Every kind. Roaches. Ants. Silverfish. One beetle the size of a toddler’s shoe. Crawling, writhing, forming a hive that seemed to breathe

“Oh,” Luke said shakily. “Oh this was a terrible idea-”

And that’s when it happened

THE SWARM BURST

“AAAAAAAAGH!!!” Luke screamed as they exploded outward like a horror movie jump scare cranked to 100

“GET BACK! GET BACK!!” Samantha was the first to act, shoving Luke behind her and unleashing insecticide like a god of war wielding resentment and vengeance “TO HELL WITH YE!”

The bugs hissed and scattered, some retreating, some regrouping, others crawling straight for their feet

“NOPE! NOPE!!” Sean howled, swinging a broom like a katana, knocking over the bowl of tomato sauce in the process

Richard, watching from behind the fridge with a soda in hand, whispered “I’ve never been more traumatized”

Elliot braced himself, hands tight on a mop like it was Excalibur “Well? What are we waiting for?” he said with solemn resolve “This is our kitchen. This is our home”

The team nodded grimly

Sean raised his broom

Luke pulled up his goggles

Richard held the insecticide spray can and his croc

Samantha popped the cap on a second spray can

 “Just so you know!” Samantha whispered “If I die, delete my search history!”

“IF I DIE, DON’T LET MY MOM FIND MY INTERNET TAB TITLED ‘IS Roach INTELLIGENT’-” Sean who already freaked out, he shouts out of pure panic

They fought. They screamed. They slipped on dough. The bugs retaliated

Cody, meanwhile, had been standing by the doorway holding the broom, eyes wide with pure horror

Elliot spotted him just in time

“No” He ran over, grabbed Cody by the shoulders, and gently shoved him out of the kitchen. “You don’t belong in this mess”

“H-huh? I-I can help! I’ll be brave! I’ll grab a spoon or-”

Elliot placed a hand over Cody’s heart and looked into his eyes like a tragic anime mentor

“You’re too young. Too handsome. Too… pure to face trauma like this.”

Cody opened his mouth to protest

Elliot gently closed it with one finger

“Go. Live your life. Be a normal cashier. Be happy”

And with that, Elliot turned and slammed the kitchen door shut behind him, locking the battlefield within

Inside?

Chaos.

Outside?

Cody, alone in the hallway, holding his broom, whispered

“…I’m gonna start bringing holy water to work”

-

-

-

Not even ten minutes had passed

Ten minutes since they lifted that cursed table. Ten minutes since the swarm emerged
And now?

All-out hell

Elliot stood dead center in the kitchen, no longer a man, but a swirling blur of desperation. In one hand, a broom he swung like a claymore. In the other, an insecticide spray that hissed as violently as his internal panic. He struck the air like he was fighting off demons made of legs and trauma, regretting every single life decision that had led to this moment

He gasped between swats “Why… why did I agree to this?! What, did I think I had nothing better to do today?! What part of my brain said, ‘Yes, let’s go cause trouble for fun’?!”

Someone save him! Anyone! Except The Spectre- God, especially not The Spectre

To his left, Richard, half-insane, was chasing a cloud of gnats around the kitchen, sloshing vinegar out of a repurposed spray bottle labeled “Raid Ant & Roach Killer: Keeps Killing for Weeks! Fresh Scent”

He was soaked in lemon-scented sweat, eyes wild “GET BACK HERE YOU AIRBORNE COWARDS! FACE ME LIKE A MOTH TO THE FLAME!!”

Elliot turned forward

And saw Sean, on top of a prep table, screeching like a Shakespearean ghost mid-exorcism, as a lone beetle casually strolled across his Croc

“IT’S ON ME. IT HAS LEGS. IT HAS EYES. IT’S STARING INTO MY SOUL!”
Tears streamed down his face. His voice cracked like a middle school band solo.
If his mother had shown up right then, Sean would’ve jumped into her arms and never looked back

Elliot turned to his right, smile frozen like a corpse

That’s where he saw it

Luke

Fully unhinged.

Wearing ski goggles, oven mitts duct-taped to his arms, and dual-wielding a blowtorch and a broom

“FOR PIZZA JUSTICE!! TONIGHT, WE DINE ON EXOSKELETONS!!!”

He blasted the ceiling with fire. A cockroach scuttled along a light fixture and disappeared into a vent

Luke screamed

The vent screamed back

...Probably an echo. Hopefully…

“They’re… everywhere…” Elliot whispered, a single tear dripping down his face like a tragic anime protagonist “It’s a plague. A biblical, deep-fried plague”

Meanwhile, Samantha was standing on the counter, armed with a rolled-up magazine in one hand and an insecticide spray in the other, mid-meltdown

“I’M NOT GETTING PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS- WHY ARE THERE MORE?! THEY’RE MULTIPLYING LIKE TAXES!!”

Then Richard paused

His eyes widened

He pointed

His face paled like death itself

“WHY IS THAT CENTIPEDE CARRYING A FORK?!”

A cockroach with wings launched off the wall, directly at Elliot’s face

He screamed, dropped to the floor, and rolled like a dramatic stuntman in a soap opera

“I TOLD YOU ALL TO CALL SOMEONE!!” he wailed from the floorboards

Luke, still standing in a cloud of insecticide and fire, shouted with vengeance
“I’M BURNING THEIR BRIDGES TO THE NEST! NO MORE BACKUP FOR YOU, BUG SCUM!!”

“LUKE. PUT. THE FLAME. DOWN. THIS IS STILL A KITCHEN” Samantha roared

But it was already too late

There’s turning back now

-

-

-

Thirty minutes later…

The crew sat in the parking lot, in silence, slumped in defeat

The pizzeria behind them smoked softly

Everyone was covered in flour, tomato sauce, ash, melted plastic, and the spirit of regret

Elliot sat crisscrossed, head tilted toward the heavens

“…So. I called pest control,” he muttered

“Good” Sean nodded numbly “I was just about to suggest that”

Richard trembled “The centipede winked at me. I’ll never be able to sleep again.”

“I think I got one” Luke said, still in his goggles “Also… I might’ve melted a pizza cutter. And… uh… part of the oven. And Samantha’s phone”

“That explains the smell of burnt plastic and my spiraling mental health” Samantha deadpanned, face in her hands

Cody, who’s untouched by war, sat beside her and gently patted her shoulder. He’d watched it all from theoutside. Elliot had saved him. He owed that man his sanity

“Do you think pest control gives discounts if we swear never to try again?” Sean asked, eyes glazed.

“They might charge extra,” Elliot whispered. “We didn’t just fail. We declared war. And then we nuked the battlefield”

That’s when the van arrived

Bold letters painted on the side “You Screamed, We Here – Bugs Gone Fast”

A man stepped out, wearing full protective armor, a face mask like he was about to hunt Pokémon and war criminals simultaneously

He scanned the group, then looked at the pizzeria

“So…” he said, pulling out his gloves “DIY pest control, huh?”

Elliot groaned. “Please don’t ask”

The man peered through the open door.

“…Y’all tried to cook them?”

“Technically yes” Sean mumbled. “But it started with good intentions and, uh… a blowtorch…”

The man cracked his knuckles “Alright. Time to introduce myself to those bugs”

He marched toward the door like an absolute legend

“Oh” he added casually. “This isn’t even the worst I’ve seen. Once, Mrs. Shedletsky nearly set her entire bathroom on fire because of a spider”

Elliot jolted. His head snapped up

“Wait. Mrs. Shedletsky?” he grabbed the guy’s arm. “You mean- Brighteyes?!”

“Yeah?” the guy blinked “You know, ex-admin. Famous. Why?”

Elliot grabbed him, eyes wide, shaking like he just found a rare drop

“Please. I need her number. For something important. I’ll pay. I’ll do anything. Just- just let me talk to her!”

The man hesitated. “Uh… company policy says I’m not allowed to share customer info-”

“Then let me borrow your phone! I’ll call her right now. I won’t even save the number, please!”

“…You’re paying extra”

Elliot’s eyes sparkled

“Done”

As the pest control hero entered the battlefield, the team remained slumped in the parking lot, staring up at the sky

“…You think Mrs. Shedletsky has PTSD too?” Sean asked quietly

“I hope she’s doing better than us” Samantha murmured

And so, another day came to a close at Builder Brothers’ Pizzeria.
Traumatized. Burnt. Humiliated

But slightly less buggy

-

-

-

After that, Elliot slipped quietly to the back of the pizzeria, past the flour-stained battlefield, out of sight from the others. He needed privacy, total isolation. No one else could hear this

In his trembling hand: the pest control guy’s phone

He scrolled through the call history

There it was

Her number

He took a deep breath, thumb hovering

Click

The phone rang once. Twice. Then a voice picked up on the other end. Smooth, calm, tired

“Hello? Are you the pest control guy from this morning? Sir, why are you calling back? Haven’t you done everything already?”

Elliot’s heart almost stopped

There she is

He could barely believe his luck

“Hi! T-this isn’t about the bugs” Elliot stammered “You’re Brighteyes, right?”

There was a pause. Then, slightly suspicious

“Yeah. So?”

He took another shaky breath

“H-hi, I’m Elliot Builder. Son of Mr. Builder”

“Oh! I’ve heard of you a few times. Builderman mentioned you when talking about your dad. Nice to meet you, Elliot. But… why the sudden call?”

And here it was

The real reason

Elliot swallowed hard

“It’s about your husband. John James Shedletsky”

There was a pause
A long one
The mood shifted instantly

“...And?”

Elliot hesitated, but only for a moment

“I need your help. Your husband, he’s trapped. He’s in danger”

“What kind of nonsense is that?” she snapped “Shedletsky? My Shed? The ex-admin? A god? Danger is the last thing that applies to that man”

Her voice turned colder

“You don’t even know him”

“Yes, I do!” Elliot protested “I got trapped with him once. Somehow I escaped. Please! Ma’am, I swear, I’m not lying”

“Mmhmm. And I’m starting to think you’re not Elliot at all”

“Please don’t hang up! I-I can prove it! Just give me a chance to show you I knew him!”

“Fine. You’ve got five seconds. Impress me”

Oh god. Oh god oh no. She sounded done

“Okay! He loves fried chicken. Like, obsessed”

“Literally everyone knows that. He hosts chicken-eating contests”

“He created SFOTH!”

“Google also knows that. Try harder”

“He is Telamon.”

“...Most people don’t know that, but some still does”

“He calls Dusekkar, an admin by ‘Matt’ that’s his real name, right? Matt Dusek?”

“Damn… yeah, you got that one”

“He walks barefoot everywhere for no reason”

“Okay, how do you know that...?”

“He sneaks down for midnight snacks at exactly 3:27 a.m. every Tuesday and Thursday”

“Wait- he does have times and days?! I knew he was sneaking food, but what?!”

“When he was Telamon, he used to steal sticks from some dude named ‘Tape’ or ‘Taboo’ to make nests. He never even used them. Just hoarded and left”

“...He what?! That lunatic!”

“Also, this is just a theory but I think he created 1x1x1x1. Something about what 1x1x1x1 said before it killed me-”

“Okay. Alright. You win. You’ve convinced me”

Elliot let out the biggest breath of his life. His knees nearly buckled. A slow, stunned smile bloomed on his face

But then a realization hit him

Wait

Wait wait wait

Did he just confirm that 1x1x1x1 and Shedletsky were connected?

Holy shit

He had to bring that up later. He needed to clear this up with Shedletsky when they finally met again

“So tell me, Elliot…” Brighteyes’ voice softened “What can I do to help you bring my idiot husband home?”

Elliot nodded to himself, jaw set

“I need the Banhammer” he said “Builderman’s. It’s still in his office. Before he got… taken”

“Got it. I’ll get it. Meet me on Saturday. Bring whoever you trust, or don’t, your choice lil guy”

“I will” Elliot said “I promise. Also, just so you know, Shedletsky knows how cereal is made, but still doesn’t know if cereal counts as soup! Crazy right?!”

“...You’re kidding. You’re not kidding, hey Elliot, did you know, once he got a haircut so bad he wore a beanie for two weeks. Some kid saw him and thought he had cancer”

“OH GOD, that really happened!!”

They both burst out laughing
Then kept talking
And talking

They shared Shedletsky stories, each one weirder than the last. Brighteyes laughed, Elliot cried a little. It felt strange. Familiar. Real.

Nearly an hour passed.

Until finally

“YO! Ell!” Richard burst in, interrupting the call. “The pest guy says he needs his phone back!”

Elliot jolted. “Oh! Uh okay, one sec!”

He quickly exchanged numbers with Brighteyes

“See you Saturday”

“Can’t wait” he said, grinning

He handed the phone back to the pest control guy, thanked him with a fistful of crumpled bills, and turned back toward the street

-

-

-

Walking back into his house, Elliot smiled genuinely, fully

Today… he did something
Not just cleaned up after another chaotic shift
But made progress

Real, tangible progress

He had reached out. Found someone who could help.
An ex-admin. A legend
A god in her own right

And she said yes

The thought made his chest feel light

He stepped into his room, kicked off his shoes, and flopped onto his bed, limbs spread, head sinking into the pillows

The world, for once, felt a little less heavy

And for the first time in what felt like forever…

 

Elliot fell asleep with a smile

 

Not because the day was easy

But because he fought for something, and It finally succeed

-

-

-

[No one is getting suspicious of you, Elliot]

Notes:

4749 words
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"Hey Elif! why this chapter released a lil bit late?"
*author staring at his 30th time defeat Hatred from BloxTales and lv 86 Dusekkar*
bro I swear I...uhh...do productive things!! Trust!!!
Don't tell anyone the last part was shorten bc author let Elliot rest peacefully for this chap- WHO SAID THAT?!

Chapter 15: Devil's Melody

Summary:

"Self-deception" is when a person lies to themselves or convinces themselves of something that isn’t true, often without fully realizing it

Notes:

*post chapter 13*
Author: “Alright guys, zero angst this time!! Let’s all heal our sanity!”

You guys: “Cool cool cool… so… where’s the angst though?”

*just then the author felt true fear for the first time*

Chapter 14: Devil’s Melody

Night fell like a heavy curtain over the pizzeria, swallowing the last scraps of daylight. The sun had clocked out from its Thursday shift, probably off somewhere knocking back a cold drink before dragging itself up again tomorrow to watch over whatever nonsense fate had planned

Inside, everyone has done wrapping up the day’s chaos, scrubbing sauce off counters, stacking the clean pans, fixing the manager’s office door again, courtesy of three certain ‘not-so-mischievous’ culprits who’d swear up and down it hadn’t been their fault, in fact, it actually is them who caused it

Elliot was done. He adjusted the cheap plastic visor sliding crooked over his hair and slung his bag over his shoulder in one quick, practiced motion. He moved toward the exit faster than his mental health could ever hope to recover, determined not to get roped into another round of ‘helping’ which always translated to ‘accidentally doubling the damage’ Yeah, no thanks! He’d rather take his chances getting kidnapped by some off-brand cult in an abandoned cave where cave divers would risk their life and a loving family for fun than deal with the manager’s blood pressure spiking into the space, explore the unknown. He had bigger problems anyway

Plans. Missions. Secrets

Brighteyes was finally helping him chip away at Builderman’s banhammer issues. Spectre was out there, lurking, and if Elliot made one misstep, he’d be right back in the Forsaken Realm, he’d be back at square one. Trapped again. His hand found the doorknob. Just one twist, and he’d be free-

“YO!”

Elliot physically jumped

Samantha was leaning against the counter, phone gripped in her palm, eyes lit like a raccoon discovering an unattended trash buffet

“You guys wanna go to karaoke?” she exclaimed, waving her phone in the air like a victory flag

Elliot felt his soul leave his body and hover somewhere by the ceiling. Luke, meanwhile, was halfway through adjusting the strap of his backpack, and turned a suspicious look on her

“Karaoke? Did the place suddenly become free or something? You’re stingier than my grandma counting rice grains for soup”

Samantha rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t strain a muscle “It’s 60% off if we go as a group of five or more people. 60%. And we get free lemonade”

She shoved her phone under Luke’s nose for proof

“ACK-” Luke flailed, pushing it away “Alright, alright, I get it! Stopp!”  Luke shoved the phone away before she blinded him.

Richard, leaning casually in the doorway like he belonged in a magazine ad for electric guitar, tilted his head “So with all of us, that’s six people. More than enough for the discount. Neat”

Except fate had other plans

Cody raised his hand, timidly “Um. I can’t come”

Everyone turned to stare. Cody gave a small, apologetic grin, rubbing at the back of his neck

“I’ve got a test tomorrow. Big one. Gotta study tonight”

“Tragic,” Samantha deadpanned, but her mouth twitched into a half-smile “Good luck, kid”

Cody beamed “Thanks!” He snatched up his phone, waved, and zipped out the door so fast Elliot wondered if he’d actually teleported

Elliot felt his chance slip into the night right alongside Cody. He cleared his throat, about to seize the opportunity “So, actually… can I also-”

“No”

Samantha’s voice hit like a wrecking ball

“…”

“…”

“What?” Elliot squawked, affronted “You let Cody go!”

Samantha crossed her arms and stared him down. “Because you never do anything but work. Work, then go home, then work again. You have the most boring cycle known to man. Even a rock has more going on than you Ell!!!”

Elliot’s mouth opened, but the truth sat behind his teeth like a mouthful of needles. He couldn’t exactly say “Oh, I’d love to come, but I’m secretly working to save people trapped in a realm and gets tortured for entertainment and with a supernatural god-like entity probably is planning to drags me back”

“And besides” Samantha went on “if you don’t come, we’ll only be four. That means no discount, and I’m not paying full price just because you wanna be a hermit”

Elliot deflated, shoulders sagging. He briefly considered feigning appendicitis, but even that seemed less terrifying than Samantha’s fury

Luke flung an arm around Elliot’s shoulders “Come on, man. Youth is for dumb choices and karaoke. Let’s live a little”

Sean appeared at the doorway, keys jingling like a cowbell “So who’s in my car?”

Samantha snapped her fingers “I’m taking Luke. No way am I letting him and his Mario Kart obsession with unstable brain be alone with the rest of you”

“Hey! Why did you say that!” Luke gasp in betrayal, how could she! His very own friend! Say that TO HIM?!

“Luke. Look at me and tell me if I’m wrong…”

Samantha fixed him with a glare so withering it could make freshly bloomed rose wither in 5 second as she continues “Last night, you crawled into my room at 4 in the fucking morning in a cardboard box, jumping around and chanting ‘I’m Mario Kart final boss’ for 30 minutes straight”

 

(here, no need to hurt your brain imagining it, you're welcome bro)

 

“in my defense, it’s funny! like ok I mean you’re right” Luke gave an exaggerated shrug “but it still hurts”

Samantha rolled her eyes hard enough to see her own brain “Sean, take Richard and Elliot. I’ll text you the address”

She started dragging Luke out by the shirt collar

“It’s called Dawn Time Karaoke, on A1. Don’t get lost” before gone out of their sight, Samantha make sure to announce the location before she disappears with Luke held hostage

Luke waved weakly as he disappeared out the door “I REGRET NOTHING!”

Sean just hummed, shaking his head as he headed for the parking lot “I’m gonna go get my car”

“well? Just to let you know, I’m taking the passenger seat, the back seats reek the smell of disappointment and spray paints from that guy who causes vandalism the whole neighborhood last time” Richard whistle

Sean just scoff, walking out to take his car. Left behind in the silence of the now half-lit staff lounge, Elliot tried to look busy, flicking through his phone notifications as if they held the secrets of the universe

He was still staring blankly at his screen when Richard gave him a light but firm tap on the shoulder

Elliot flinched “Uh- yeah? What’s up man”

Richard slipped his phone into his back pocket and let out a quiet sigh. His expression wasn’t joking anymore. His usual sly grin was gone, replaced by something tighter, like a man working up the nerve to step off a high ledge

“Hey, I… I gotta ask you something, Elliot”

Elliot tried to laugh “You wanna split money for the soon broken manager’s room door in the future? Because if that’s it, I’m actually-”

“No” Richard cut him off, voice surprisingly sharp “Not that”

Elliot blinked. Richard wasn’t the kind of guy who got sharp. He was the ‘coast through life, throw out one-liners, and vanish into the background’ kind of guy. Seeing him serious made Elliot’s stomach drop

Richard rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking away before settling back on Elliot “Look. I’m not trying to mess with you. Or pry. But… I know you’re hiding something. Something big. Dark”

oh

Elliot forced a shaky smile “Hiding? Nah, man, what would I even-”

Richard’s voice dropped lower, soft but unyielding “Don’t pull dumb shits on me Elliot”

Elliot opened his mouth but nothing came out

Richard went on, speaking carefully, like he was defusing a bomb “Even someone like me, who’s not all up in your business like Sean, isn’t blind. I just think you’re a hard-working guy. But ever since… you know. That incident. The murder attempt…” He swallowed, the words tasting sour “I started paying more attention, I grew more suspicion”

Elliot shifted his weight, desperately scanning for an escape route, and his lips moved before his brain caught up “I’m fine. Seriously”

Richard stared at him. “See, that’s the thing. You keep saying that. But You flinch when there’s an unexpected phone rings. You suddenly worried sick whenever someone got a little itty bitty scratch. You barely sleep, don’t think I haven’t noticed you dragging yourself into work looking like you’ve been hit by a truck”

Is his behavior really being that bad lately?

Elliot’s pulse pounded behind his eyes “It’s… just stress”

Richard stepped closer “No. It’s not. It’s like you’re always waiting for something to jump out and get you. Like you’re living with a bomb on your head. And I’m not stupid enough to believe that’s just stress”

Elliot’s throat worked. He tried to laugh it off, but his voice cracked “Richard… I appreciate the concern, but it’s… it’s not your problem, I’ll be fine”

Richard’s expression darkened “See, that’s what pisses me off. You keep saying shit like that. Like you’re radioactive. Like you’re doing us some big favor by keeping us in the dark. But guess what? We’re your friends. We deserve to know what’s eating you alive”

First it’s Sean

Then his father

Then the therapist who looks more like a professional ragebaiter-

Now it’s Richard?

“I don’t…” Elliot started, then trailed off, staring at the tiles

Richard’s voice softened, but the firmness didn’t fade “Elliot. You were gone for two whole years. You vanished off the face of the earth, and then you showed up again like… like nothing happened. Except something obviously did. Because you’re not mentally stable at all. And nobody just disappears for that long without a reason”

Elliot swallowed “I-I just… needed time away. To… clear my head”

Lies after lies, but as long as Elliot kept everyone safe, it doesn’t matter

Richard’s brow creased. “Bullshit. You expect me to believe you just went on vacation for two years and came back looking like you’ve stared into the depths of hell? I was able to pry some information from Sean, you were injured badly by the time he found you, does that sound like ‘clear my head’ to you?”

Elliot winced, feeling the words like punches

Richard’s voice broke a little “You think I haven’t noticed the way you zone out sometimes? Like you’re remembering something horrible. The way you always give good things to the others but never yourself. The way you avoid talking about anything remotely personal”

Elliot clenched his jaw “I’m fine”

Richard’s eyes flared with frustration “Stop saying that. I’m not asking how you’re feeling. I’m asking what the hell happened to you”

Elliot wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly cold “It’s… complicated”

Really complicated

More than just complicated

Richard let out a humorless laugh. “Oh really? No shit, Elliot. Of course it’s complicated. But I’m trying to understand. Because it feels like you’re carrying some massive secret that’s going to break you in half”

Elliot’s chest felt tight, his breath coming too quick. “I… I can’t talk about it”

Richard’s eyes were sad now, the fight draining out of him. “Why? Because you don’t trust me? Because you think I’ll run away screaming?”

Because I’m scared, scared that you’ll end up suffer like me

Elliot opened his mouth. Shut it again

Richard shook his head slowly “You don’t have to give me every detail. I’m not asking for a confession. I just… I want to help. Or at least know what I’m dealing with. Because the way you’re going? You’re gonna snap. And I don’t want to watch you fall apart”

And if you help, you’ll be in my shoe

Elliot can’t let it happen

Fuck the therapist’s advice, Elliot won’t risk it

Elliot bit his lip, so hard he tasted blood “I’m trying… okay? I’m trying to keep it together”

Richard’s voice gentled further. “I know you are. But you shouldn’t have to do it alone”

No he needs to

Or else, he’ll put everyone on the danger line

Elliot’s eyes stung “I don’t want to drag you into my mess”

“Too late” Richard said softly “We’re already in it. Whether you admit it or not”

Elliot dropped his gaze. Silence stretched between them

Don’t

Please, I don’t want more people to ends up as a toy in its hand

Richard finally sighed, running a hand through his hair “Okay. Look. I’m not gonna force it out of you right now. But I’m not dropping it either. I’m not going to pretend I don’t see what’s happening to you. So whenever you’re ready, even if it’s a year from now, I’ll listen. No matter how crazy it sounds. Okay?”

Elliot nodded numbly

Richard gave him a small, sad smile “You’re not as alone as you think, Elliot”

Oh he wish he’s alone in this

So no one will fall down into the mistake he made

“I…” Elliot’s voice trembled. “Thanks. I… I wish I could tell you. I really do”

Richard squeezed his shoulder gently “Someday”

I’m sorry

I’m so sorry

There won’t be a someday Richard

Elliot tried to find something else to say. Something that would make this less heavy. But his throat felt like it was closing

 BEEP BEEP BEEP

Sean’s car horn shattered the moment, the sound echoing off the tile walls. Elliot jumped like a spooked cat

Richard exhaled “God. Let’s go before Sean honks out the Morse code for ‘hurry your asses up’”

Elliot forced a tiny, strained smile “Yeah… okay”

Together, they walked toward the door, Richard glancing over Elliot who quickly rush to the car, for a split second, he frown

Richard knew Elliot will never tell him the truth

Even if he forced him to

Even if he being gently cooed him out of his shell

He knows Elliot will still refuse to mutter it out

And for a fleeting moment, as they stepped into the cool night air, Elliot wondered what it might feel like… to finally tell someone the truth

But not tonight

“Yo! Come on, guys! What’s taking you two so long? I’m waiting out here, you know!!”

Sean’s voice echoed through the doorway, accompanied by the bright glare of headlights shining in from the parking lot. He leaned out the car window, waving frantically

Sean had never looked so much like a savior in Elliot’s entire life. God, he silently vowed he’d treat Sean to a lifetime supply of pizzas or a gold-plated car air freshener- anything, as thanks for rescuing him

“bro, Elliot why you look at me like that, it’s giving the creep” Sean raise his eyebrow at Elliot who stare at his with a sparkling eye

“Nothing. Just shut up and drive”

“oh okay” Sean rolled his eyes as he began to drive to the destination, Dawn Time Karaoke

-

-

During the ride, everything went silent. Oppressively silent. The air hung thick, like the car was trapped underwater

Sean drove, eyes on the road, brow relaxed and blissfully unaware of the tension simmering between his two passengers. Richard slumped in the passenger seat, arms crossed, lost in thought. Elliot sat alone in the backseat, hunched over his phone, desperately scrolling through apps he wasn’t actually reading.

The engine hummed, tires rolling steadily along the dark street, the only sound in the vehicle

After several long minutes, Sean cleared his throat “Soooooo…”

He glanced from Richard to Elliot in the rearview mirror, eyes sparkling with mischief

“Can I, uh, turn on some music? Y’know… brighten the mood a little?”

Richard’s head snapped up like a spring. “Please. Please, God. Do it. This silence is killing me. Play anything. I don’t care if it’s a commercial jingle for adult diapers, just not this quiet” Richard feel a little relived, as he also doesn’t wanna stay in this dead silent any longer, especially after his talk with Elliot, maybe some music will lighten up the mood and make the air less thick

Sean’s grin grew wide, pure mischief written all over his face “Say less. I’ve got the perfect song.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice!…” just as Elliot think he could let his mood lightened, he realized a loophole in Sean’s words. Elliot’s eyes flew open, pupils shrunk in terror

“wait Richard don’t let Sean CHOOS-”

But it was already too late

Sean slammed a button on the dashboard

Suddenly, the speakers exploded at full volume

YEAHHHHHH MY TOASTER’S ON VACATION!
MY HAIR SCREAMS ‘OVERRATED!’

Richard flailed so hard he smacked his knee on the glove compartment. Elliot grabbed the back of Sean’s seat as though bracing for a plane crash

“OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE-” Elliot wailed. “I KNEW IT. I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN”

Sean was already headbanging behind the wheel, curls bouncing wildly as he bellowed

SHRED! THE! BREAD!

Richard slammed the dashboard with his palm “TURN IT OFF! TURN IT OFF!”

“Pull over before my brain leaks out my ears!” Elliot screamed, clawing at the console

But Sean yanked the controls out of reach with one hand while still steering “Nuh-uh. It’s about to get GOOD. Wait for the grandma part!”

Elliot whimpered. “The grandma… part?”

Sean grinned

MY GRANDMA’S GOT TATTOOS OF FORKS!
SHE HEADBANGS WHILE FEEDING STORKS!

Richard turned slowly toward Elliot, eyes wide in horror “Your grandma is a sweet lady who bakes cookies”

“Not in this song, she ain’t!” Sean crowed, whipping his hair back and forth

BANANA SOLOOOOO… VERY LOOOOONG!
MY HAMSTER FAINTED FROM THIS SONG!

Elliot sagged back into his seat like his spine had melted “I hate everything…”

NOW EVERYBODY, SHRED THE BREAD!!!

Sean screamed the lyrics out the half-open window as they passed a couple walking their dog, who stared in open-mouthed confusion. Richard curled into a ball, muttering prayers under his breath. Elliot pressed his forehead against the glass, considering whether jumping out of a moving car would be a preferable fate

“HECK YEAH!” Sean shouted triumphantly

“SHUT UP, SEAN!!!” yelled Elliot and Richard in perfect unison

-

-

-

At the karaoke venue, Samantha was leaning on the counter, sweet smile firmly in place, chatting with the receptionist

“Hi, we’re five people. Can we get a room for two hours? And do you have any drink packages?”

The girl behind the counter was barely finished explaining the month’s promotions when Samantha spotted movement from the front entrance. She brightened

“Yo! Over here! We already booked a room-”

But then she squinted, tilting her head

“…oh my god. What happened to you two?”

She stared at Elliot and Richard as they staggered in beside Sean. Elliot looked as though he’d seen God, and God had rejected him. Richard’s hair was sticking up in random directions, eyes glazed over like a war survivor. Meanwhile, Sean bounced along beside them, grinning like he’d just won the lottery

Luke stepped closer, his earlier good mood evaporated “Whoa… you guys look like you just escaped a hostage situation”

Samantha frowned, reaching out to lightly slap Richard’s cheek “Are you alive in there, dude?”

Richard blinked at her, pupils unfocused “Never… never let Sean fucking Lambert choose music again. Ever. Not even once. Not even by accident” His voice trembled like a man who’d stared into cosmic horrors

Samantha’s eyes widened “Okay… I’m not even gonna ask” She spun around and pointed at Luke “And you don’t ask either”

Luke immediately raised his hands “Nope. Not asking. Zero curiosity. I wanna sleep tonight”

Sean huffed, crossing his arms “Come on! It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? NOT THAT BAD?!” Elliot burst out, voice cracking

 He grabbed Sean by the front of his shirt, shaking him lightly “It was SHIT BAD, Sean. My ears may never recover. I saw my life flash before my eyes, and it was screaming lyrics about toasters!”

Sean gently pried Elliot’s hands off his shirt, looking unbothered “You’re just haters. That song is a banger”

Richard blinked, still pale “Banger? Banger, he says. I’m gonna be hearing shred the bread in my nightmares”

Samantha clapped her hands sharply “Okay! Trauma aside, time to karaoke. We paid for the room, and we’re gonna use it before I lose my sanity from all of you”

She grabbed Luke by the arm and marched him down the hallway, muttering under her breath about “never inviting these guys anywhere ever again”

Sean followed, still humming his toaster song under his breath

Richard gave Elliot a weary look “I’d say let’s make a pact never to speak of this again, but I’m pretty sure the trauma’s permanent”

Elliot nodded solemnly “Agree”

Then the two of them trudged after the others, side by side, ready, or as ready as they’d ever be, to face an evening of karaoke

Though Elliot was still silently praying… that Sean wouldn’t somehow hijack the karaoke machine next

-

The five of them spilled into the karaoke room, laughing and buzzing with the kind of restless energy only a weekend night could bring. Well… it wasn’t actually the weekend, it was Thursday- but hey, people needed dreams to keep going

Neon lights pulsed in pinks, blues, and radioactive greens across the cramped room. The padded walls did little to block the thumping bass bleeding in from neighboring rooms. A soft ambient instrumental hummed through the speakers as the karaoke machine glowed on standby, waiting for its next guests

Samantha claimed the plush corner of the couch immediately, curling her legs beneath her as she rifled through the giant laminated song catalog. Luke plopped down beside her, grinning ear to ear and clutching a bowl of neon-colored snack puffs he’d bought at the counter

Sean immediately lunged for a pair of maracas left behind on a side table, shaking them violently as though summoning a rainstorm, or a demon-

“Alright, who’s up first?” Samantha demanded, eyes gleaming with mischief “I’ve been waiting for this”

Before anyone could blink, her eyes laser-locked on Elliot. She thrust the mic in his direction like it was a weapon “You’re first. New rule”

Elliot barked out a laugh, puffing his chest out confidently “Sure, sure, man. Just you all watch me crack the speakers!”

“That’s the point!” Luke shouted, crumbs spraying from his mouth “We’re here to scream into mics and pretend we’re famous. Now GO”

Sean paused mid-maraca shake “Sing something BIG, dude! I remember back then; your singing was absolutely SNATCH. Show them, Ell!”

Richard squinted suspiciously, leaning closer to Samantha “…is it actually a good thing if Sean, who has the musical taste of a fork scraping a blackboard, praises Elliot’s singing?” Richard whisper, everything seems normal, just Sean being supportive toward Elliot, yet he feels like something evil will happen

But Elliot, undeterred, strode up to the machine like a gladiator about to face the lions. He scrolled through the touch screen, brow furrowed in deep concentration. Finally, he jabbed the “OK” button with triumphant finality

The intro music began to play

~“I will always love youuuu…”~

A hush fell over the group

Elliot closed his eyes, chin tilted upward as though he were offering his silent anguish to the gods of heartbreak. A soft tremor passed through his shoulders, but his posture remained elegant and composed, the very picture of exquisite suffering. He looked like a beautiful, sorrowful swan trapped in human form, each line of his body sculpted with fragile grace

The room seemed to hold its collective breath, caught between awe and sympathy, as though any sudden movement might shatter the delicate scene. Light glinted off the faint sheen of moisture on his lashes, hinting at unshed tears. In that suspended moment, time itself seemed to pause, drawn into the orbit of his silent, aching performance. Even the air felt charged, heavy with the weight of words unspoken and emotions too vast for speech

Elliot opened his mouth

…

 

..

 

.

And unleashed a sound so shrill, so astoundingly off-key, that the speakers crackled in pain

It wasn’t singing. It was an audio war crime

Samantha’s jaw unhinged like a python’s. Luke recoiled so violently that half the snack puffs went flying across the room like confetti

“Is he… is he in pain?” Samantha gasped, eyes wide, voice trembling like she’d just witnessed someone hurling a microwave at her head

Richard clutched his ears, face twisted in horror “I think we’re in pain…” he whispered, as though praying not to be noticed

Luke clutched his chest, eyes rolling back. “My eardrums… they’re… gone…” he rasped, voice dry as a tumbleweed rolling across a desert

But Sean- oh, Sean was thriving. He threw the maracas aside and vaulted to his feet, eyes blazing with manic delight

“YESSSSS!” he bellowed, fists pumping the air “You know what this needs?!”

He pointed dramatically at Elliot, his grin as bright as stadium floodlights

“WORLD’S. BEST. BEATBOX!”

Richard lunged forward, wild-eyed “No, Sean- DON’T-”

Too late

Sean snatched the second mic, took an enormous gasp of air…

…and exploded into beatboxing so horrifying it defied all known laws of music

“B-TSSSHHH… PPPFFFT… GAHHH- BLEH- KWAK-KWAK-”

It sounded like a blender full of ball bearings, a goose being waterboarded, and a man gargling soda all at once

With Elliot kept howling high notes over the top, shrieking like a tortured banshee

The result was catastrophic

Samantha clamped her hands over her ears and shrieked, tears streaming down her face “MAKE IT STOP. OH GOD, PLEASE”

Richard hurled an entire napkin wad at Sean “YOU’RE NOT HELPING!” he shouted

Sean licked Richard’s hand in retaliation

“EW EW EW- WHAT THE HELL?!” Richard screamed, trying to scrub his skin off on his shirt

Luke crawled across the floor, slamming his fist weakly against the padded wall “WE SURRENDER! NEIGHBOR KARAOKE ROOMS- SAVE YOURSELVES!”

Outside, a terrified staff member cracked open the door an inch, eyes wide as dinner plates

“Uh… everything… okay in here?”

They instantly recoiled as Elliot screeched

“…AND IIIIIIIIIII-”

“NOPE” The staffer slammed the door shut so hard the neon lights flickered

Samantha, drenched in sweat, grabbed the karaoke remote and started jabbing buttons like she was trying to launch nuclear missiles

“MUTE. MUTE. MUTE!” she screamed, face red and blotchy

But nothing happened. The lyrics kept flashing across the screen as Elliot wailed

“I’m gonna have tinnitus for the rest of my LIFE” Richard sobbed, curled into a ball

“My brain is melting. I can taste colors” Luke whispered, a single tear rolling down his cheek “No wonder those two are friends. Now I get it…”

-

-

Finally…blessedly… the song ended

Silence crashed into the room like a tidal wave

Elliot and Sean both stood panting, sweaty, grinning ear to ear like victorious warriors returning from battle

“DUDE. That was legendary!!” Sean gasped, wiping sweat off his brow

Elliot slapped his hand for a high-five “Best duet EVER!”

Richard, Samantha, and Luke just stared at them, eyes empty, trembling slightly

“I… I think we’re banned now” Samantha whispered

“I need therapy. And… new ears,” Richard quavered

“Take me, sweet silence. Take me away” Luke murmured to the ceiling, arms outstretched as though begging for mercy

Sean suddenly pointed at the karaoke machine, eyes gleaming with dangerous enthusiasm

“Okay. My turn for a solo!” he announced brightly

The others screamed in unison and tackled him onto the couch, wrestling the mic away as the next song started up on the screen

“NO, PLEASE, SEAN, I BEG YOU-” Luke wailed, Richard slam himself on top of Sean, Samantha frantically unplugging cables behind the machine

Outside, two staff members huddled in the hallway, clutching each other

“Did… did someone die in there?” one whispered

The other shook her head “Worse. They’re singing”

-

-

-

-

Splash!

Water burst into the sink as Elliot scrubbed his palms together, fingers rasping over wet skin. Droplets sprayed the mirror, beading and trickling downward like tears

He’d only just returned home after the night out. Sean had driven him back to the pizzeria so he could collect his motorbike, and then Elliot had ridden home alone, the city lights blurring past him like stars he couldn’t reach. Now he stood in his bathroom, surrounded by cool tiles and silence, the echo of laughter and music still rattling faintly in his skull

He’d had fun, hadn’t he? Singing, sweating, laughing in the karaoke room. He’d smiled until his face ached. But the moment he stepped into the hush of his house, the world shifted

He splashed icy water onto his face, gasping as it streamed over his skin. The cold felt like knives

“Don’t you think these moments are so pretty?” Elliot murmured to his reflection

His eyes were wide and glassy. He leaned back against the tiled wall, exhaling as if he were trying to force the darkness from his lungs

But his own voice turned on him, echoing in his head

It’s a shame the others can’t join. Why haven’t you saved them yet?

Are you sure everything will go your way?

You haven’t even mapped out the next plan. You’re wasting time, playing around with your new friends… while the people you love are suffering. Dying. Screaming for you

“They’ll be okay” he said quickly “I’ll figure it out. There’s still time”

He rubbed his hands together, faster, almost scrubbing the skin raw. The cold inside him was deeper than flesh. It lived in his bones

And how long have they already been there? Trapped. Tortured. Just like you were. Thousands of years. But worse. Far worse

His breath hitched. He glanced around the empty bathroom as though someone might be hiding in the shadows, listening

“No. No- I’m doing everything I can” he said. His voice wavered, thin as a thread

But silence pressed in like a physical weight, crushing his ribs. Images exploded behind his eyelids

Faces pale and twisted, eyes wide with terror, mouths open in silent screams. Hands clawing through walls of pulsing flesh. Rivers of blood washing over endless corridors

“They’re trapped because of it” Elliot whispered, but his voice barely existed. “Spectre did this. It’s Spectre’s fault. It’s why they’re still in that place”

He tried to straighten, but his legs folded under him. He sank to the cold floor, fingers clutching the sink’s edge until his knuckles turned white

“But… I’m the one who left them” he whispered, voice cracking

A violent tremor rippled through his shoulders. His words came out shredded and ragged, like rusted metal tearing through silk

“I escaped alone. I fucking got away on my own!”

He slammed his fist into the mirror. The glass exploded into a spiderweb of fractures, sharp shards clattering into the sink and skittering across the tiles like silver insects

They’re screaming your name. Dying. And you. Yes, YOU. You left them there to rot. God, you LEFT THEM.

Why was it you who escaped? Why couldn’t it have been someone else? Anyone else?

Elliot clawed at his scalp, pulling at his hair until his eyes blurred with pain.

“They’re in hell. And I’m here. Eating. Sleeping. Laughing. Pretending I’m okay!”

Maybe you should kill yourself as an apology for your failure

Do it

DO IT NOW

End it, worthless trash. At least then you’d pay a price for being a failure you are

“No… this isn’t me… I’m not like this… I should be happy… I should feel at peace-”

“…RIGHT, IT’S YOU, SPECTRE! YOU’RE TRYING TO CONTROL ME! YOU WANT TO TWIST ME INTO YOUR PUPPET AGAIN, DON’T YOU?!”

“I’ve never thought like this before- it’s Spectre. It has to be Spectre making me feel like this!”

He threw his head back, eyes wide. A hysterical, strangled laugh ripped out of him. He grabbed a shard of mirror, gripping it so hard that crimson drops splattered the white sink

Why does it feel like he deserves this pain? Like he’s filthy for even daring to live while they suffer?

“Spectre… that bastard. I’ll kill it. I’ll tear it apart for pulling this shit on me”

It has to be Spectre

It has to be

How else could he be cracking apart like this? He’s Elliot. He’s survived worse. He shouldn’t be this weak

The laughter choked off into silence. His chest heaved. He stared at the broken reflection around him, dozens of fractured Elliots staring back, each with hollow eyes. A tear slid down his cheek, hot and silent

“No… no. It’s me” he breathed “It’s my fault. I’m the monster. I’m the reason they’re still there.”

He folded forward, curling in on himself as if trying to disappear

“No… it’s not me. It’s Spectre trying to control me. I… I have to fight it…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry…”

His sobs tore from his throat like claws. Each breath came out like a wound. The world outside remained cruelly calm, the neighborhood quiet and sleeping as if nothing were wrong

Elliot lifted the shard closer to his neck, pressing the biting edge into the soft flesh

Kill yourself, Elliot. End it. Make it right

His pulse thrashed in his ears, thunderous. His hand trembled violently as the glass kissed his skin, drawing a thin line of blood

“No… stop it, Elliot…”

But the voice inside him screamed louder

DO IT. DO IT NOW.

“STOP! PLEASE, DON’T DO IT! DON’T LISTEN TO THE SPECTRE!”

The shard pressed closer, cold and merciless-

RING RING RING

The shrill, unexpected cry of his phone sliced through the madness

Elliot flinched violently. The shard fell from his hand and shattered on the tiles, flecks of blood glistening among the glass

He staggered out of the bathroom, clutching the doorframe for support, leaving smears of red on the door

When he picked up the phone in his bedroom, his hands shook like paper in a storm

“Hello… brother?”

He blinked in confusion when he heard the voice on the line. Mia. His little sister. Why the hell was she calling him at 11 p.m.?

“Yeah? It’s late. Why aren’t you asleep yet?” he asked, trying desperately to sound normal

“Ehhh, I dunno, brother. I just… wanted to check on you. See if you’re getting some good rest”

“Wow. Real surprise” Elliot said, forcing a shaky laugh that tasted like iron

“It’s weird… I just felt like I should call you” Mia said

“What? Did the chocolate god tell you I’m in danger?”

“Stupid brother! If I’d known you’d say something dumb like that, I’d wish you diarrhea for ten years!” Mia snapped, then hung up

Elliot let out a short, unsteady laugh and dropped the phone back onto the nightstand. He collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the taste of blood lingering on his tongue

Maybe tomorrow he’d figure out his next move on saving his friends

Maybe he’d let himself rest, for this night

Maybe not today

-

-

-

[Rest well, Elliot]

 

Notes:

5792 words
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Bro, author wanna write a funny fic about Azure… BUT I got way too attached to this one author already working on. The whole ending’s planned, just waiting for me to detail them up, write it out and post
But if author try writing another Azure, my fingers will snap off from all the sweat and furious typing

(boohoo, not you complaining, author. Maybe if you spent less time grinding Forsaken and Bloxtales, and stop waiting until Thursday to panic over self made deadlines, you’d actually finish stuff, hmm?)

Chapter 16: Marriage Drama

Summary:

"Evolution" means change over time, also simply mean gradual development

Notes:

First time writes romance stuffs, I'm not really fond of write stuffs like that, usually I'll only mention romantic relationship for a lil bit before switch to serious or comedy quickly, sorry I'm very sorry for my skill issues 3
---
out of topic but I really appreciate the supports I've been given from y'all, every comments, I read it all but too shy to reply back all of them, but just yk, I really appreciate and absolutely adore every kudos, hits, bookmarks and comments, thank you. Thank you so much for reading my very first fanfic and keep me going, I don't know how to describe how grateful I am

Chapter 15: Marriage Drama

Was it the right decision?

That’s all Jane could think as she sat on the jagged steps of the ruined pirate ship, the wood beneath her slick with rain and rot. Her hands were cold. Too cold. But she didn’t notice. Not really

She had agreed to join the team temporary
The others had celebrated her decision like it meant something, like it was brave, like it was hope

But all she felt now was dread
Heavy. Paralyzing

She was doing this to help. To take back what little control they had left, stolen by The Spectre, a cruel, divine abomination who turned people's fear into games, maps into slaughter houses

But sitting alone in the middle of this mockery place called “Pirate Bay”, with rain lashing her skin and wind screaming across the map, she felt anything but strong

She felt small

She felt like the last stupid candle trying to burn in a house already devoured by fire

The storm was a perfect soundtrack for her misery. It wasn’t just rain. It was mourning. The sky didn’t cry for her, it howled for what she’d lost

Jane clutched the axe in her lap, but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Her knuckles had turned white. Her fingertips were blistered and raw. And still, she clung to it. Because it was something to hold

Unlike him.

She couldn't hold him

Her mind split itself open again, one side begged her to run, to go back to the survivor cabin, to hide and breathe and pretend she still had time. That she’d be safe. That maybe the sun would rise tomorrow and bring warmth again

But the other side… oh, the other side told her what she didn’t want to hear

she can’t just stay in her shell for eternity, that safety was a lie, that she can’t hide forever and she has to take this chance

She doesn’t know which is right anymore. She doesn’t know anything anymore

All she knew was that she missed him

God
She missed him

She wants her husband back, she missed his touch, his extra gentle gesture toward only to her, his warmth against hers in the cold night of December

She wanted the way he held her

The way he whispered, “You're safe now, I'm here,” even when he was shaking himself when both watch horror movies, the way he kisses her forehead and then pretend he didn’t do it just to see her blush, the way he would debate with someone for hours because they said “My wife is the most beautiful woman in the world!!” to prove them wrong

But all that were dead now

And worse

He wasn’t

John Doe didn’t die

He became something else

Twisted. Warped. Puppeteered by something unholy. They said he doesn’t even remember her. Doesn’t recognize her

And yet… she still loved him

Was that madness? Maybe

But she doesn’t care anymore

Let it be madness. Let her drown in it. Let it eat her whole if it meant she could hold on to even the tiniest piece of him

Tears welled up in her eyes, unblinking, boiling. They spilled freely now. There was no one around to see her fall apart, so she didn’t bother pretending. She curled her fingers into her hair, hair she had brushed and styled like he always liked, and rocked forward, shoulders trembling with each breath that threatened to break her ribs from the inside

He used to do her hair
He used to kiss her head and call her his sweet pie

“You look like a porcupine today” he’d tease, comb in hand “but a cute one”

“Well maybe if I had help-”

“Well maybe I’m your guy, huh?” he’d grin, tugging the comb a little too hard “Yours to fix this bird nest”

“Oh shush it Mr. I-don’t-know-how-to-tie-my-tie!”

He used to joke that she was chaos in a bottle

Now she just…
empty

“Are you proud of me now, Johnny…?” she whispered into the storm “My hair’s neat. I tied it right this time”

No answer

Of course not

“Are you proud…?”

The silence bit deeper than any blade

The first sob didn’t even sound human. It tore from her throat like something dying. She pressed her palms into her eyes, trying to cage it in, but it spilled out Loud. Ugly. Unforgiving

One tear

Then two

Then the dam broke

The axe slipped off her lap and clattered to the ground, forgotten

She collapsed forward, forehead against her knees, she feels vulnerable without her husband, he’s her everything, her world. They were happy, even bad days could get erased easily with laughers and kisses

And now he’s gone

Twisted

Turned into something he would never be

Her heart ached, she was informed about he had become when she got here, it was long ago, yet no amount of time could heal away the mental wound it caused, it still there, dig a deep hole on her chest, then leave it there to bleed, to get infected

She’s so tired of pretending everything is fine
She’s so tired of waking up in a world where he’s not by her side
She’s so tired of not be by his side

Letting her tears blend together with the sorrowful weather, the wind rushed pass her harshly, slapping the brutal reality. The beaten black brimmed hat sat beside her, soaked. Jan picked it up with trembling hands and held it to her chest

“Hey John, you think this hat will be nice on me?”

“Honey, you look absolutely stunning in every outfit, but why black?”

“To looks cool! I say we buy this and decorate it when the next weekend comes, you’re been so overworked lately!! Promise?”

“Alright, Promise!”

“You promise we’d decorate it next weekend” she croaked, lips barely moving “You promised”

It was still pitch black. Still plain

Just like everything else he left behind

Jane clutched the hat tighter, so hard it might rip. As if it were a portal. As if hugging it would drag her back in time, to before her husband got corrupted, before the killing, before the monster he had become

But time never gave back what it stole

It only watched

And oh, God, it hurts

It hurts so bad

The air around her buzzed with tension as the match timer ticked down. Soon she would have to wipe her tears, pick up her axe and meet the others, manipulate herself that she’s fine again

But in this moment, just one, she let herself be broken

Without John, she doesn’t feel brave
She doesn’t feel whole
She doesn’t even feel alive

She felt like a body that forgot how to breathe

And she missed him
More than the sky missed the stars
More than the moon missed the tide
More than her heart missed its beat

And somehow, impossibly, heartbreak kept her moving anyway

5…

 

4..

 

3.

 

2

 

1

 

0

 

[Round Ended! Survivor Win!]

And just like that, in a burst of white light, Jane Doe was pulled out of Pirate Bay and sorrow, dropped back into the main cabin

She blinked hard, vision blurred as though saltwater still clung to her lashes

Around her, everyone erupted in laughter, a victory chorus that felt absurdly distant, like music echoing through a tunnel Jane couldn’t reach

“Dude! You should’ve seen how I jumped Jason! That guy must feel so bitter letting me get away with it on ZERO HEALTH!” Shedletsky was practically bouncing on his toes, grinning wide enough to split his face in two, as if he’s about to open three fried chicken restaurants just to celebrate

“We were lucky this round. No one went down” Guest who finally let his guard off, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth

“Y-yeah… It’s a shame I couldn’t do much…” Noob mumbled, scratching the back of their neck, smiling like someone apologizing for breathing

Builderman ruffled their hair, chuckling

“Hey, ya didn’t chug that Slateskin and block for me for nothin’, y’know. I wouldn’t’ve had time to finish my sentry or get outta there. Give yourself some credit, kid”

Beside him, Taph fidgeted like an anxious bird

“Yeah, you killed it too. Those tripwires were a big help”

Builderman patted Taph’s shoulder gently. Jane swears she saw Taph’s soul jumps out of his body and dance around the cabin in victory

For a flicker of time, warmth bloomed in the room. A sense that maybe- just maybe, life could still taste sweet in tiny sips

But then reality came crawling back like a bloodstain under a locked door

“But it’s unfortunate we haven’t met Mr. Doe yet. Our apologies, Mrs. Doe” Guest said quietly

The smile slipped off Jane’s face when the name got mentioned

And the ache in her chest felt sharper than any blade

“But, like… you sure things will be fine? I don’t think Spectre will let our plan go smoothly” Noob asked, uncertain

Builderman hesitated, words stuck somewhere between his brain and tongue

“We did discuss it, and…”

“And?”

“And no absolute idea” Shedletsky interjected, already mid-bite of chicken

A hush fell over the group

“…”

“…”

Jane stayed silent, because there was nothing she could add. Nothing new. Nothing hopeful. Every time they’d tried to plan, the conversations had dissolved into terrified silence. Not one of them could guess what The Spectre would spin to keep John not breaking free from its manipulation and control

Then Noob blurted something out, voice soft, unsure

“You and your husband seemed… really close. A long time ago, during a match with John Doe… while he was dealing the final blow, ending my life… I saw a little ring. The chain was poorly made, but the ring is really well made and kept safe from harms. Now I figure it out, it matches the one you wear”

Jane blinked, feeling the shape of the ring on her finger as if it were burning into her skin

“So… I kinda figure… even though Spectre can control people’s minds… if their mentality’s strong enough, they can break through. Spectre will definitely be planning something to stop Mr. Doe from breaking free, especially now that it sees you started attending matches”

Builderman hummed, nodding

“--- --- ---- --------- ---- --, --- --- ------ ---- ------- --- ---- ---------- --- -- --- -----? (But the real question here is, how will Spectre stop John Doe from breaking out of its manipulation?)”

“Uhhh, block her face or change her appearance in his eyes, I dunno” Shedletsky shrugged

“Could be true. Far as I see it, there’s no other way” Guest 1337 said, shrugged

“Hold on, I was just joking- how could that work?” Shedletsky half-choked on his chicken, eyes bulging

“Yeah, turns out your joke’s the answer, Shed. Can we even think of any other way Spectre would stop John from breaking free?”

“I don’t know? Maybe it’ll… uhhh… okay, you’re kinda right”

“See!”

“Cool, cool… but put that aside. If Spectre blocks Jane’s face from her husband… how do we make John realize Jane’s his wife?” Noob asked

Silence fell like a guillotine

An awful silence

Jane felt every pair of eyes flick toward her, then away again, as though afraid to look too closely at the raw wound she carried on her face

“You know… maybe we, uh… tell him Jane is his wife?”

“That’s awfully stupid, Shedletsky. How many brain cells did you lose after saying that?” Builderman sighed, massaging his temples

“Uhhh… maybe four? Dunno, man. I lost count…”

“You’re so intolerable. What does Brighteyes even see in you?”

“Uhhh… I make her laugh?”

“…”

“He’s got a point” Guest muttered

It didn’t help. Nothing helped

Because this wasn’t some puzzle they could logic their way out of

This was Spectre

A thing that crave for power

A thing that see pain as entertainment

Eventually, Shedletsky ended up duct-taped for everyone’s sanity, and Guest cleared his throat, eyes once again hard as steel

“Alright, team. Time’s up. Gear up. We’ve got another round coming”

Jane swallowed

Here we go again.

-

-

Light. Then darkness. Then light again

Jane opened her eyes and found herself standing beside a blue glass building, her reflection flickering in fractured panes

The Glass House map

A forest spread before her, not much of a forest since there appear to be very little trees, shivering under a silent breeze. Two mountains loomed in the distance, each crowned by a glass fortress, joined by a glass bridge bleeding red light into the gloom

Jane walked forward, axe gripped so tight it dug grooves into her palms. Each step was careful. Hesitant

She scanned every corner, waiting for the nightmare to appear

FWSSH-CLANG!

Black spikes shot from the ground, barricading her path

She froze

And then she saw him

Standing on the other side of the spikes

Light-skinned Robloxian
That face
Those eyes
Her heart

Oh

Oh, God

that same face she felt in love with, that same eye she fallen into and that man who lighten up her heart

It was her husband

John Doe

 

The forest hushed itself, as though the world were holding its breath

Jane’s pulse slammed against her ribs so hard it hurt. She smelled blood, sharp and metallic, carried on the breeze. Then she saw it, red droplets glistening on his corrupted crawl, dripping like rain

He has hurt someone

Or killed someone

A voice inside her screamed to remember: John isn’t innocent anymore. He’s a ruthless killer. He’s dangerous

But the voice was weak

Because her heart was louder

John would never do this.
John would never.

She staggered forward, breath hitching. Her axe slipped from her fingers, landing on the mossy earth with a muffled thud

She couldn’t hold it. Not against him

Her John

She wanted to scream at the sky for how cruel it all was. For how many years she’d waited. For how many lies she’d fought through. For how many nights she’d laid awake whispering to an empty pillow: “Come home”

She reached the clearing

John was hulking, half-corrupted, towering over a dead body he didn’t even look at. His right arm was deformed shaped in a spike. Red binary code streamed off his limbs like venom. His mouth, once so soft and gentle, was twisted into a deformed smile

But it was him. It had to be

“John…”

Her voice was fragile as spun glass

“It’s me. Jane Doe”

The creature jerked, a low growl scraping up its throat. His glowing red eye snapped to hers

Empty

Full of malice

“I waited. Through years. Through grief. Through every lie other Robloxian told me”

Her voice trembled

“I knew you were still out there. I knew I wouldn’t have to mourn an empty grave”

He let out a snarl that rattled her bones

“You promised you’d come home”

She took another step, trembling so hard her teeth chattered

“So I came to bring you back”

He lunged

The ground shuddered under his weight as he barreled toward her, claws raised to rip her apart

Jane didn’t run

She lifted her shaking hand and touched his cheek. The corrupted code hissed and burned her skin, but she didn’t flinch

For the briefest instant, one breath, one heartbeat, his monstrous muscles went still

“…Do you remember this touch?”

Silence

A tear slid down her cheek

Then-

A roar exploded from his chest, so loud it cracked the glass walls around them. His corrupted arm speared forward, plunging through her stomach like a hot knife through silk

Jane gasped. Blood bubbled at her lips

She looked up into his red, feral eyes, and smiled

“It’s okay, my love… You were worth the wait”

Her legs gave out. She slumped forward, still cradling his monstrous face as her blood spilled onto his claws

Her eyes fluttered shut

 

John Doe stared down at her limp body.

For a single instant, something flickered inside him

A tremor

A twitch

Then, a sound cracked through the monstrous snarl

A whimper

Small. Shattered

But it was far, far too late

-

Darkness swallowed Jane

She felt no pain. Only the weight of her grief. And beneath it, something colder, the truth she’d tried so hard to bury

Then

A flash of white

Air poured into her lungs like a drowning woman dragged from the sea. Her body spasmed as she jolted upright, fingers clawing at the floorboards beneath her

She was back

Back in the Main Cabin

Warm light. Wooden chairs

Jane curled in on herself, clutching her abdomen as though she could still feel his claws tearing her open

Her ring glinted dully on her shaking hand

-

-

-

[Round ended! Survivor win!]

They’d won the round, somehow. Even though John Doe had slaughtered nearly everyone, it was only thanks to Noob, whose knack for slipping away and hiding had saved themself yet again. They’d made it out last man standing, with a mere 25 HP left, wake up back in the main cabin, Noob walk toward everyone

“Hey guys, any news-” he started to ask, but Taph shushed him quickly

Taph’s eyes were locked on something behind him. Noob peek over Taph’s shoulder, and immediately understood

Jane Doe was hunched over on the floor, sobbing into Builderman’s chest. The admin sat beside her on the sofa, arms wrapped around her as though trying to shield her from the world. Her tears fell in silent torrents, dripping onto Builderman, her shoulders shaking as painful whimpers slipped out between gasps

Builderman cupped her face gently “Hey- hey. You’re okay. You’re here now”

She flinched from his touch as though burned, squeezing her eyes shut. Fresh tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks. “I-I know…” Her voice cracked, brittle as thin ice “I knew he wasn’t innocent. I knew what he has become”

A heavy silence fell over the survivors as they slowly gathered around her. Their eyes were wide with sorrow, glancing helplessly at one another. Nobody dared interrupt

“I thought… maybe…” Jane struggled for breath, wiping her nose on the back of her trembling hand “Maybe there still enough of him left that he’d remember me. That he’d stop. But the way he looked at me… it’s like I’m nothing. No mercy. No love. Just… murderous intentions”

And yet…

She dared to hope. Even knowing better. Even knowing exactly what she was walking into

But god…

It hurts

Guest stepped forward, his face drawn but gentle. He crouched beside her, shaking hand in both of his “You were hoping. That’s not a crime”

Jane let out a shuddering sob, pressing a fist to her mouth as though to hold back bile “I knew what he did… what he’s still doing… to all of you… to us survivors, he hunts and kills over and over again” Her voice broke, and she gagged on the memory, the taste of blood and metal in her throat

Noob crept closer, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. He lowered himself beside her, careful not to touch her yet. “You were trying to save him” he said softly. “Doesn’t matter how far gone he is. That’s who you are”

Tears streamed down Jane’s face “I run toward him like a dummy… knowing he’d probably kill me. I thought, maybe if he saw me again, it would break through. That he’d remember who I am. Who we were” She swallowed hard, her voice trembling “But he didn’t even hesitate…”

Taph looked utterly helpless for a moment, despite not being the best at comforting he forced himself forward and wrapped his arms awkwardly around her shoulders. He signed hesitantly with one hand while keeping his hold on her with the other

“--- -----. ---- --- ----------- ------ ----. ----- ---, --- ------ --- --- ------- --- ----, ----- -- ---- ----- -------- -- (You tried. That’s all anyone could have done. That’s you, you fight for the people you love, even if they don’t deserve it. Even if it destroys you)”

Jane let out a raw cry, burying her face in his chest. Her entire body shook as though her bones were rattling inside her skin

“I know there’s still something good left in him…” she whispered into the fabric of Taph’s robe “I think… part of me still does. Even if he’s a monster.”

Builderman reached out again, resting a trembling hand on her hair. His own eyes glistened under the cabin lights. “And if there is,” he said, voice husky “we’ll help you find it. But you’re not dying alone for him again. Not ever. Do you hear me?”

Jane just nodded, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

Around them, the cabin hummed with the low throb of machinery. Outside, the void of the Forsaken Realm pressed against the sealed windows, clawing for entry. The fireplace flickered, throwing wavering shadows across exhausted, bloodstained faces

Nobody spoke for a long time. The survivors simply held onto each other, the weight of what they’d endured, and what still lay ahead, settling around them like falling ash.

-

-

-

“So… you got any idea?” Noob asked, glancing anxiously at Builderman

Builderman stood utterly still, silent, his eyes unfocused as though he were deep inside some private calculation. Beside him, a newly constructed sentry hummed quietly

This round’s map is Yorick’s Resting Place a dark forest with several hills and a purple river running through the entire map. At the top right corner of the map, which also the most noticeable part of this map, is a mansion located on top of a large cliff, which is where they’re stand right now

They didn’t have long before the match timer forced them back into the chaos. And it was clear Spectre was savoring every second of this twisted drama. He wanted Jane’s fragile hope dangled before her, wanted to watch her try, and fail, to reach the man she loved. So John Doe’s the killer again this round. And Spectre seemed confident that John wouldn’t recognize his wife…

Finally, Builderman blinked and seemed to snap back to the present

“I’ll go find the others. We need to figure out a plan as fast as possible. Noob, please stay here, okay?” He shoved a bundle of blank papers and neon-colored highlighters into Noob’s arms “Also… mind keeping these for me? I forgot to put them back at the cabin”

“Uh- sure?” Noob replied, but Builderman was already sprinting off, leaving Noob standing there with his arms full of office supplies

Noob looked around the echoing hallway, sighed, and glanced down at the stack of items

“Seriously… these things during a round…”

They shuffled through the papers absently… until suddenly, an idea sparked in their head

“…wait”

It was stupid. Absolutely stupid

The kind of stupid that would get you killed in any second like an actual noob. But right now… there was no other plan. And it wasn’t like they could test it ahead of time

With quick, determined movements, they began working on a plan that probably wouldn’t work, and almost certainly isn’t designed to solve the real problem. But maybe… just maybe… it could buy Jane a chance

-

-

“MOVE, MOVE!”

Just as John Doe lunged for Builderman, Guest crashed into the monstrous figure, shoving him backward with a grunt of effort

“Come on, Jane, we can’t spare a second!” Builderman grabbed Jane’s trembling hand and pulled her toward the looming silhouette of the mansion

“What’s your idea, Builder?” Guest yelled, falling into step beside them

But Builderman only let out a weary sigh. “No idea. I need you both near the sentry. It’ll buy us some time. Remember, run behind it fast. It can and will fire at us if we’re in its line of sight for long enough”

They ran without stopping, Jane stumbling as sweats blurred her vision

Once upon a time, she used to run toward John. Straight into his arms, laughing as he swept her up and spun her around

Now she was running away from him, from the man who once been her entire world

BANG. BANG. BANG

The moment they reached the sentry, Builderman shoved Jane and Guest down as bullets ripped through the air, the sentry’s turret swiveling

John Doe roared in fury. His monstrous form staggered under the barrage of shots before he turned, eyes blazing, and slammed his clawed hands against the sentry. Sparks and metal shards flew as he tried to rip the machine apart

“Alright… now what?” Jane gasped, voice shaking

The sentry was already smoking. It wouldn’t last more than a few minutes, and then John would turn his wrath back on them

Builderman shook his head. “I dunno… maybe we just hold him down, and you try talking to him? Maybe he’ll recognize your voice”

Jane stared at him “He killed me the last round when I talked to him-”

“DUCK!”

Guest lunged, shoving Jane aside just as John Doe’s claws sliced through the air where her neck had been moments before. Jane hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of her lungs

John Doe’s crimson eyes darted toward Builderman. With another roar, he charged, aiming a savage swing

But Guest barreled into him again, blocking the strike with his forearm. Without hesitation, Guest planted punch back, smashing his fist into John Doe’s jaw

The killer stumbled, groaning in pain, but recovered quickly, fixing Guest with a murderous glare

John Doe shifted his focus. Guest’s too well-defended. Builderman would be a tough kill with Guest nearby

So he glanced sideways… and found Jane

Fine. If Guest’s going to be protective with that stupid hard hat man, then he’d simply go after her

John Doe lunged toward Jane, claws raised

-

“Wha- Noob?!”

Jane flinched and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the blow. But instead of claws raking across her flesh, she felt a sudden presence step behind her

When she opened her eyes, Noob was standing there, arms outstretched, holding up a sheet of paper like a shield in front of her face and John Doe

John Doe skidded to a stop, his claws hovering inches away

Noob blinked rapidly, looking between the paper and the towering killer “A-ain’t no way this is working…” they whispered

They lowered the paper slightly… then lifted it back up in front of Jane’s face again, as if double-checking something

John Doe’s monstrous features twitched. He lowered his claws another inch, eyes narrowing with sudden, hesitant confusion

Then realization

“…Jane?…”

The word came out soft and broken, and it nearly made Jane’s knees buckle

Jane shoved Noob gently aside and stumbled forward

John Doe’s twisted grin faltered, as though he were fighting some unseen force inside his own skull. He took a halting step toward her, trembling. His massive shoulders heaved as if he were barely holding himself together

“Don’t, Guest” Builderman murmured as Guest started forward protectively. Guest clenched his fists but forced himself to stay back

“J-John?…” Jane whispered. Her voice was barely audible above the sound of gunfire and the sparking sentry

She reached for him with shaking hands, fingertips brushing against his cheek

John leaned into her touch, eyes closing briefly. For a fraction of a second, he looked like the man she used to know

Tears filled Jane’s eyes. She moved closer and wrapped both arms around him, ignoring the searing pain as corruption spread like black veins where her skin touched his. She felt his monstrous muscles tense under her fingers

“P-please… stay…” she begged, voice cracking

God, please… just let this last a few more seconds…

But John shuddered violently and shoved her back “Don’t… hurt you… near…” he rasped, each word like it was dragged from his throat

“No. I can’t. I’m not leaving you” Jane stepped forward again and caught his face in her hands. She guided his gaze to hers, eyes locked with his “Look at me, John. Look at me”

For a fleeting heartbeat, he seemed to listen. His anxious eyes softened

But it didn’t last

With a sudden roar, John Doe slammed his claw into Jane’s side. Blood sprayed across the ground

“JANE!” Guest cried, lunging forward, but Jane threw out her arm, stopping him

“Stop. I can handle it” Her voice was trembling but resolute. She turned back to John, even as crimson stained her clothes and dripped from her fingertips

She didn’t pull away from him. Her hands stayed on his cheeks, gentle and grounding, as if she were trying to anchor him to reality

There was no accusation in her touch. Just quiet hurt, layered beneath unwavering love

 “John… I know you’re still there” she whispered, her voice like a prayer “I’m here, dear”

She leaned forward, pressing her lips softly against his. A kiss tainted by blood and corruption, but still full of tenderness

 “Coming to you… choosing you… was the best decision I’ve ever made” Jane whispered, her words trembling “No hesitation. No doubt. You’re my everything, John”

John’s eyes blinked, glimmering with confused pain

Her voice cracked “The problem isn’t you. Or the things you’ve done. It’s the problems we had to face. The horrors that twisted everything we loved. It’s not your fault”

She faltered, shoulders shaking. “So… please…”

Jane drew in a ragged breath, barely able to keep speaking

“Don’t leave me. I need you. More than anything. More than I can even explain”

John Doe sucked in a sharp breath. His claws dropped limply to his sides. Tears spilled down his cheeks, cutting pale trails through the corruption marring his skin

He opened his mouth to speak, but at first, only a guttural growl came out. Then, forcing every word as though fighting a war in his own mind, he choked out

“…you’ll regret me. Leave me. I wish we’d never met. You… deserve better…”

Jane’s voice softened, almost trembling, as she brushed her thumbs along his cheekbones, treating him like something fragile, something sacred

“And that ‘better’… is you” Her smile was wobbly, tinged with sadness “Coming to you… choosing you… was the best decision I’ve ever made, honey. No hesitation. No doubt”

She paused, letting the words sink in. Her eyes searched his face as though it held the answers to her own pain

“You’re my everything, John” she said, his name rolling off her lips like a prayer

“The problem isn’t you… or what you’ve done. It’s the monsters and the horrors we’ve faced together. Those things tried to break us… but you’re still you” Her voice cracked, raw with emotion. “So… please…”

Jane’s voice grew quieter still, trembling

“Don’t leave me”

Her hands were shaking now, barely able to hold his face steady. “I need you. More than anything. More than I can even explain”

John Doe took a sharp, shaky breath. Jane’s words hit him like a hammer blow, knocking the air from his lungs. His chest heaved as tears spilled freely, shining under the flickering lights

He tried to speak again. At first, he could only growl, his voice splintering. But then he forced out words, each one trembling

“Want… know… Elliot?…”

Noob bolted forward, eyes wide “Yes! You’ve interacted with Spectre more than any of us and any killers we suspect! Please, do you know anything about him?!”

John swallowed hard, every word an act of defiance against the Spectre’s grip

“Listen… Elliot… noclipped… escaped…”

He turned to Jane again, his eyes glistening, and pulled her into a trembling embrace. He pressed a soft, brief kiss to her lips, a kiss full of desperate love

“Love…” he whispered

And then, before anyone could speak another word, darkness exploded across their vision. Shadows swallowed the world, and the survivors blacked out

-

[Round ended! Survivor win!]

-

Everyone materialized back in the cabin at once, blinking under the flickering lights. For a split second, there was stunned silence

“—! ------------ ----- ---------? --- ---------- (Oh! Everyone is back already? Did something—)” Taph began to sign, stepping forward alongside Shedletsky, who hadn’t been in this round

But before Taph could finish, the room exploded into noise

“ELLIOT! ELLIOT ESCAPED!” Noob shouted, practically bouncing off the floor with joy. Their grin stretched ear to ear, eyes shining with relief. For so long, the thought of Elliot dying had tormented them, gnawing at every spare moment

“!!!-----? (!!! Real?)” Taph’s eyes widened

“REAL!!!” Noob declared triumphantly

“So, Elliot’s still alive?! THAT’S AMAZING!” Shedletsky gasped, beaming like he’d just won the lottery

Guest, who was also grinning despite the chaos, glanced over at Jane, concern creeping into his voice. “Mrs. Doe, are you alright? Need any assistance?”

Jane shook her head, a small, genuine smile breaking through the exhaustion etched on her face. “You should join the fun with everyone else…”

“If you insist” With that, Guest finally allowed himself to join the others, caught up in the rising swirl of hope and relief

Builderman, meanwhile, turned a curious look on Noob “By the way, Noob… what did you do that made Mr. Doe recognize Mrs. Doe is his wife?”

“O-oh, well… uhm…” Noob laughed nervously, scratching the back of their head as they held something up

It was a sheet of paper

Builderman blinked “Oh…”

Shedletsky leaned forward, and then his eyes went wide “OHHHHHH!!!”

On the paper was a surprisingly decent drawing of Jane’s face. Noob had clearly used the materials Builderman had entrusted to them, and their own well-trained artistic skills

“I… I didn’t even think of that” Builderman said, staring at the drawing in disbelief

“That plan is awfully stupid…” Shedletsky added, squinting at Noob

“At least it’s better than the ‘tell him Jane is his wife’ plan of yours” Noob shot back, rolling their eyes

“Hey!” Shedletsky sputtered indignantly

The entire group burst into laughter, tension finally easing like steam hissing from a kettle

But in a quiet corner of the cabin, Jane Doe stood apart from the laughter. She gripped the handle of her axe so tightly her knuckles went white

Images flashed in her mind, John’s twisted face, the way he’d fought desperately for control… the agony in his eyes as he tried not to hurt her

Her chest heaved. She bit her lip until it bled, glaring daggers at the blade of the axe

Even though she was vulnerable and weak without him… Even though she felt like nothing in Spectre’s hands…

She had to change.

She must be stronger

Strong enough to bring John back

She had to shine brighter than ever

She had to become something

Something that could fight back against The Spectre

She wept for her husband long enough

This time… she’ll fight

“Builderman” Jane said suddenly, voice like steel “I want to join”

Builderman, who’d been halfway through chuckling at Noob’s retort, froze. He turned to look at her, his eyebrows shooting upward. The room fell silent once again, laughter dying like a snuffed candle

“…what?”

Jane met his gaze squarely, eyes glinting with determination. “I want to join the rounds more often. I want to help, not just to find more information about Elliot, but to fight Spectre. That thing needs to be dead, locked away forever. I don’t want to see my husband suffer another day”

She glanced down at her axe, then back up at Builderman. Her voice rose, trembling but powerful

“I’m not going to stand by while Spectre keeps turning him into a monster”

Builderman frowned, lifting a hand as if to steady her. “No. You’ve done plenty already. Those rounds will eat you alive, piece by piece. It’s not worth the risk”

Jane clenched her jaw, her voice low and steady. “So what? I’m supposed to just sit here and wait? Watch my husband be Spectre’s toy while you all fight without me?”

“That’s not fair” Builderman shot back, his tone sharp “You really think just wanting to save Mr. Doe means you’re ready for what Spectre can do? That thing will tear your sanity apart, over and over again”

“I’m already torn apart!” Jane yelled, eyes brimming with tears. “Every day, I’m breaking into pieces. I’d rather do something than sit here feeling useless”

Builderman’s shoulders slumped slightly. His voice softened, though he still shook his head “Listen to me. We can’t keep sending people into that same hell with us. You’ll end up suffering-”

“Builderman” Jane stepped closer, her voice dropping to a low, urgent plea. “I can’t keep living like this. I have to fight for him”

Builderman looked away, jaw tight, lips pressed into a thin line. The silence in the cabin grew thick and heavy, pressing in on all of them

Jane’s eyes shimmered “I’m not asking to face Spectre alone. I just… want to be part of the rounds. Please”

Builderman stared at her for a long moment. His eyes were tired, lines deepened by the weight of endless battles and sleepless nights. Slowly, he exhaled, like someone letting go of a burden

“…alright,” he muttered finally “But you stick to the plan, okay? No reckless moves. We’re a team”

Relief and determination lit up Jane’s face “Deal”

Builderman sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Man… God help me. I may be his boss, but if your husband ever gets back to his old self… he’s gonna want my head on a platter for letting you got away this”

Jane managed a faint laugh, the first genuine one in a long time

Shedletsky stepped forward, smiling warmly as he held out a hand to shake. “Well… welcome to the team, Mrs. Doe”

-

-

-

 

I have just notice a huge mistake I've made and deeply sorry for anyone whose fav is Noob, while writing this chap and reading through wiki and discord, I realize Noob's pronounce is they/them and not he/him, author apologizes for his lack of knowledge. I've check back each chap and fix all the problem, thou if there's still some mistake remains, please do remind me, sorry for the inconvenience

Notes:

6284 words
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why I post this early? Celebrate my cousin joined ao3!! I'm very happy
plus author also every excited to write this chapter (totally did not scream in pain when writes it, but when don't it annoys author so he went back to write and scream in pain)

Chapter 17: Shiver Me Timber

Summary:

"So close, yet so far" used to express regret or disappointment when you came very close to achieving what you wanted, but ultimately fell short

Notes:

NOLI IS OUTTTT, WE'RE ROCKING ITT
well at least I update in time, I got sick and have to go to the hospital, found out I will die if I come a few more minutes late so lucky me! I currently just got back home after staying for a few days in the hospital, yippee :]

And I'm really excited to write the next chapter tbh, guess what will happen :)

Chapter 16: Shiver Me Timber

In the street crowded with passersby, autumn, the season of Halloween, was quickly arriving, carrying the world forward and leaving behind the hot, humid summer to rot until its turn came again to torture people. A chilly breeze brushed past Elliot’s nose, crisp and minty, as fresh and invigorating as the season itself. Orange and yellow leaves tumbled over the busy roads, swirling like tiny fires before settling onto sidewalks packed with people hurrying against the endless honking of cars

It was a cold Saturday morning, and for Elliot, it was a day of monumental importance. Today, he was finally going to meet Mrs. Shedletsky- Brighteyes, and receive Builderman’s all-mighty banhammer. It was the moment he’d been waiting for ever since that fateful phone call with Brighteyes, the first spark in his plan to save his friends

But as the city faded behind him, Elliot let himself sink into the forest, drawn deeper and deeper into the hush of nature. The chaos of the city disappeared behind a curtain of rustling leaves and thick trunks. Here, silence reigned, save for the soft scattering of dry foliage underfoot

Of course, Brighteyes couldn’t simply hand over the banhammer in public like it was a cheap plastic toy. They have agreed to meet here instead, avoiding curious eyes and, more importantly, dodging the attention of those kinds of people who always poked their noses into everyone else’s business

Dragging his legs through piles of fallen leaves, Elliot wondered if meeting at Mrs. Shedletsky’s house might’ve been a better idea after all. But the decision was made, and he couldn’t turn back time

After several more minutes of trudging through the dense woods, he finally arrived at the small clearing they’d chosen. There she stood, impossible to mistake: clad in a bright purple hoodie, a cream-colored scarf wound around her neck with a tiny embroidered cat face near the ends, and a pair of colorful shutter shades perched on her head

Brighteyes

One of the legendary ex-admins, a figure in helping Roblox’s creation back then in the old days. And now, impossibly, standing before him in the flesh, real, made of meat and bone. Elliot could only stare, awestruck, before mustering the courage to step closer

“My! You’re Elliot Builder, right? Nice to meet you!” Brighteyes snapped out of her own thoughts as soon as she spotted him

“Y-yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person, ma’am Brighteyes” Elliot stammered, cheeks flushing

“Ah! Ah! Quit the fancy talk. Call me Brighteyes, it’s easier, and way less awkward, little guy” Brighteyes thrust her palm toward him in greeting, effectively shushing him

Something about the gesture sparked a memory in Elliot, a sense of déjà vu he couldn’t shake

(Flashback…)

It was in the middle of a round, a deadly, sick game. Elliot and Shedletsky were both low on health, hiding behind a wall after Shedletsky managed to stun the killer long enough for them to escape

“SHED, would you mind chewing a little less loud? 1x CAN and WILL find us at this rate!” Elliot hissed, eyes darting back and forth between 1x1x1x1 who’s search for them and Shedletsky, who was still munching on a piece of fried chicken like nothing happens

Before Elliot could scold him further, Shedletsky slapped a greasy palm over Elliot’s mouth, still chewing noisily, while gesturing for silence. Elliot glared and pushed his hand away, practically vibrating with rage

“Stop it, Shed!! You’ll bust our hiding spot! I can’t afford to risk my life because of your loud chewing habit!”

But the ex-admin just shoved his other hand over Elliot’s mouth again, grinning as he gnawed on a chicken bone. Elliot smacked it away and shook him by the shoulders

“This is NOT funny, Shed! Stop ragebaiting people for once, for god’s sake!” Elliot snapped

“y̵o̷u̵ ͜k̨e̸e͏p w̷a͟l͘k̕i̶n̛g ͏ar̡o͢u̢ǹd̕ ͟a̡n̵d́ ͡p̢ís̨s͡i̡n̷g p͜e̷o̶p͏l͞e͘ ͟o̵f̸f ̶l͟ìk̕e ͡t͟h͏a̸t,̷ ͘o͡n̸e ̶d̨a̡y ͟s̵o̸m̸e͜o̸n͏e̵ ̀m̛i͏g͝h̕t̴ ̛j̸u͜s̢t̷ ̕b͘i͘t͘e ͘y͘o͞u͟r͟ ͢h̕éa̢d̵ ͘o͜f̸f͝,”

“And it’s inappropriate to chew so loud! Mind you, there are people around, and manners to keep!” Elliot retorted, scoffing

“I͠’͟d̴ ͢r͡àt̢h̢e̷r͘ ̶e͞a̡t̡ ͟a̕l̸o͏n͘e̡ ̴o͡u̴t͢śi̕d̕e̛ ̡i͡n̸ ́á ̷m̶i̛d͡d́l͜e͞ ͝o͝f̡ ͞n̡o̶w̡h͕e̞r͘e̵ ̢t̕h́a̜n ̛ęa͝t ͟w̢i͟t̷h͞ ͘y͟o͜ú ̢S͜h͝e͞d̡l͏e̛t́s̀k͟y̕.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’-” Elliot’s blood ran cold

Something's horribly wrong

Who was he talking to?...

Slowly, Elliot turned his head, feeling his heart shrivel as he realized there was a third presence. There, standing in next to him, two swords glinting, there standing was 1x, glaring at them both with murderous intent. A smirk curled across her face

“Y͡e͢a̛h͡, ̴t́h͘i̢s͞ ̕i̶s͟ ͜t̕h̷e̢ p̶ąr̷t w̴h̵er̡e ̨y͡o͢u̸ ru͢n̛.”

Elliot swore he’d never forget that round as long as he lived

(End of flashback.)

“Like husband, like wife…” Elliot muttered under his breath, thinking about his time trapped in the Forsaken Realm

“What?”

“NOTHING!” Elliot blurted, snapping upright

They continued deeper into the forest until Brighteyes abruptly stopped. Her playful air vanished, replaced by a grave seriousness. She turned to face Elliot, voice firm

“All right. I’ll get to the point. No need for warmups, I know you already know enough

She paused, scanning the forest around them as though ensuring no one lurked among the trees

“As you told me before, my husband, Shedletsky… along with two other admins and innocent people, have been kidnapped by something calling itself ‘The Spectre’”

“Yes- and I’m planning to save them. I can’t stand leaving them to rot!” Elliot exclaimed, fists clenched

Brighteyes stared him down sharply “Elliot… I know it’s hard to accept, but it’s impossible for you to hold the banhammer”

Those words hit Elliot like a sledgehammer to the chest. His eyes widened, his breath caught. “...w-what?” he whispered, trembling

Brighteyes sighed and slowly raised her hands. A faint shimmer rippled the air, and then, as if woven out of pixels and light, an object materialized. She caught it deftly, a massive hammer, its metal surface gleaming as though forged from sunlight

The banhammer

The thing Elliot had been dreaming of obtaining. One of the key to saving his friends

“This is Builderman’s” Brighteyes said quietly “Taken straight from his office. I’d love nothing more than to hand it to you if it would help save them. But…”

She hesitated, brushing her fingers along the hammer’s head. Her eyes softened with something like sorrow

“I almost forgot… Being a god has its consequences. I forgot that you- an npc-can’t respawn if you die, weak and fragile. The banhammer isn’t some normal gear. It’s a god’s relic. Something only admins, or those granted permission by Builderman himself, can wield. npcs… you just can’t carry it”

Each word drove deeper into Elliot’s chest like tiny knives. His face drained of color, his thoughts splintering into a million frantic shards

“I’m sorry, Elliot” Brighteyes continued gently “There’ve always been a thick line between admins and npcs”

“You-you’ve got to be kidding me…” Elliot stammered. His entire plan, everything he’d pinned his hopes on, now felt like it was collapsing into dust

“I’m not lying, Elliot. You can try it yourself if you don’t believe me”

Elliot lunged for the hammer, gripping its handle with shaking hands. He strained and pulled. His muscles locked. Veins stood out in his neck. But the banhammer refused to budge so much as an inch

He tried again. And again. But it was as though the hammer weighed the entire world. Brighteyes sighed, looking away as if she couldn’t bear to see the defeat on his face

Eventually, Elliot stumbled backward, flopping onto the ground. His shoulders sagged, eyes wide and empty “What do we do now… I… I’m sorry…”

Brighteyes knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder

“Since we don’t have any leads yet, I’ll keep the banhammer secure for now. I’ll wait to hear back from the other admins, and if we figure out a way for you to use it, you’ll be the first to know. I promise” She stood up and walked toward the hammer

Elliot could only stare at the ground, self-hatred curling like acid in his chest

You messed up again

Again and again

Why can’t you ever get the job done, Elliot?

How much more of a failure do you want to be?

You were so close

And you let it slip away

‘Great job,’ filthy rat

Brighteyes reached for the hammer. It shimmered and vanished into thin air. She knelt again, her eyes soft, and cupped Elliot’s cheek

“I know this is hard news to absorb. So here’s the deal: I’ll keep the hammer for now, and when we figure it out, I’ll come running. I’ve contacted the other admins about all of this. We’ll figure something out, together”

“But how? When will we figure it out?” Elliot whispered. His voice was ragged, eyes glistening with unshed tears

Maybe… never

Brighteyes fell silent at that, her expression tightening as though fighting her own despair. But then she forced a small, hopeful smile

“That’ll be a problem for the future. And I have a feeling you’re stronger than you think, Elliot” She rose to her feet and extended her hand “Now how about we wipe that frown off your face? It’s a beautiful Saturday. I don’t want to ruin your day off, little guy”

Elliot hesitated… but finally reached up and took her hand

They emerged from the forest together, back into the crisp autumn air. Before leaving, Brighteyes carefully retied Elliot’s scarf, her fingers gentle and precise. Then she waved him goodbye, disappearing into the crowd of golden leaves and city noise

Yet despite the brief comfort, Elliot’s day felt darker than ever

He dragged himself along the sidewalk, head low, hoping he could make it home and bury himself under blankets until this nightmare passed. Maybe, if he racked his brain hard enough, he could plan his next move to save his friends

But doubt gnawed at him like rats in the walls

You keep saying you’ll rescue them

But I see no proof of that

Are you sure you’re even trying?

Or do you just sit here, enjoying your own freedom?

Is this what a friend would do?

Or are you hiding behind self-pity to avoid taking action?

Maybe… you never planned to save anyone at all.

Maybe you just want good things for yourself… while the others rot.

You’re selfish. Pathetic. Cruel.

Trash would do a better job than you-

“ELLIOT! YO YO!! OVER HEREEE!”

A voice shattered through the whirlpool of his thoughts. Elliot blinked, startled back into the present, and realized someone was calling his name from across the street

Could it be…

Elliot turned, bracing himself

Yup. Just as he thought

Sean was there, bouncing into his life at precisely the shittiest moment. Again

Back in the moment, Sean practically skipped over to him, grinning like a kid who’d just ripped open the perfect Christmas present. Elliot eyed him warily, trying to figure out what had him so excited today

“Hi, Sean. Just when I’m about to head back home” Elliot crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “You going somewhere you like? That face definitely doesn’t belong to someone who just soaked their socks”

Sean leaned in closer, voice bubbling with energy “Oh, I met you at the perfect time! It’s October already!! You know what that means!”

Elliot blinked. He did not, in fact, know what that meant. And he didn’t like the way Sean was practically vibrating

“…No idea?” Elliot said, cautiously

“Oh, come on! Guess!” Sean flailed his arms for emphasis. “Wire up that brain of yours, y’know, the one stuffed full of work and hard-working thoughts! Think, you donkey!”

“Uhhh… you-”

Before Elliot could finish his guess, Sean cut him off

“We. That’s a we, Ell.” Sean jabbed him lightly with an elbow “Don’t exclude yourself!”

“Fine- so… we’ll, uh, summon a demon?”

Sean threw his head back in a cackle “Great idea, but no”

“Bake a… mpreg pumpkin-shaped pizza?”

Sean froze. His face fell “…Why did you mention that again?”

Elliot shrugged “Dunno. Sounds like something you’d recommend us to do again”

“Shut up! Anyways- Ahem!” Sean cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure “Continue guessing”

Elliot rubbed his chin, forcing his brain to conjure up potential horrors Sean might rope him into for Halloween. This usually meant coming up with the world’s most cursed ideas, things guaranteed to leak from a friend’s group chat and probably get someone arrested

“Candy party?” Elliot tried

“Too basic!” Sean dismissed it with a wave of his hand

“Cosplay your long-lost brain cells?”

“No! Nah-uh!”

“Uh… go bully kids online?”

“What- NO?! What makes you think I’d make us do that?”

“Maybe… pour those forbidden juices from the trash bag down on trick-or-treaters?”

“Elliot, that’s cruel. How did you even think of that?”

“Well, I bet you’d do it if you had free will”

“…True. But it still hurts to hear”

“Deal with it”

“Bitch”

“Jerk”

“One-star rated on Yelp”

“Class clown wannabe”

“The fool of April on April Fools”

“Sandbag-”

Before Elliot could finish his insult, he was startled by Luke suddenly launching himself onto Sean like an overcaffeinated spider monkey. Luke wrapped his legs around Sean’s waist, nearly knocking him over as Sean flailed wildly

“ACK- Luke! GET OFF OF ME!” Sean spluttered, staggering under Luke’s weight

Thankfully, a mittened hand shot out and grabbed Sean’s arm just in time, saving him from a face-first dive into the dirt. Samantha stood there, bundled up in winter clothes so thick she looked like she’d wandered in from the Arctic, shivering despite the fall weather

“You convince Ell to join us yet?” Luke chirped, still hanging off Sean’s shoulders and rattling his neck like a maraca

“LUKE. LET. GO.” Sean gasped, voice strangled

“Anyways- ignore the two morons” Samantha said firmly, shaking her head. She turned her eyes on Elliot, looking determined “We’re going to a haunted house. Wanna come?”

“I can’t-” Elliot started to protest

“Yeah! I’ve never tried those before!” Luke butted in, cutting him off “we got too caught up with bills and taxes Well… mostly Sam’s nagging- OW!”

Samantha pinched Luke’s arm so sharply he let out a yelp and released Sean, who promptly collapsed onto his knees, gasping for breath. Luke, meanwhile, fell onto his butt with a dramatic thud. A few autumn leaves fluttered down, landing comically on his hair

“Jeez! What? I’m not wrong” Luke grumbled, brushing leaves off his head. “If it weren’t for Richard’s grandparents discovering our living situation and persuading his parents to give him monthly expenses, we might never get to experience a haunted house on Halloween like normal people our age”

Samantha’s face went red as she grabbed Luke’s ear and yanked “We don’t talk about family problems in public, Luke”

“Fine! Fine! I’m sorry! It slipped out!” Luke squeaked, finally managing to pry her hand off his ear

Samantha let out a weary sigh and turned back to Elliot “He’s… a little difficult sometimes. He and his big mouth”

Elliot just stared, half amused, half trapped “Well… about Richard… what Luke said earlier?”

Samantha grew serious. She lowered her voice “We don’t usually share much personal stuff. But let’s just say… his parents are detectives and criminal investigators. They don’t support Richard’s dream job. I-I don’t want to push it further. It’s Richard’s private life”

Elliot nodded, feeling a complicated twist in his chest. It was awkward to be stuck in the middle of this, yet he couldn’t deny a flicker of concern for his friends

Meanwhile, Sean and Luke were now wrestling each other, rolling around in the leaves like a pair of feral cats. Samantha watched them, exasperated, then shot a steely glare at Elliot as he started inching backward

“I should get home. I have a few chores to do” Elliot muttered, making a break for freedom

But Samantha was already two steps ahead

“No, Elliot. You’re going with us” she declared, grabbing his arm in a vice-like grip “We already bought the tickets. Richard’s waiting for us there, and I know you never have fun. We’re going to fix that bad habit of yours, you workaholic”

Samantha began towing him forward, toward the bickering mess that was Sean and Luke

You know…

Maybe have some fun

Have some fun while your friends suffer

You’ve always been like this, anyway, Elliot

There’s no chance to fix you

You’ll never be perfect

“Hey! Elliot- what are you thinking? Yo, watch ou-”

WHAM

Before Elliot could process what Samantha was yelling about, his face collided full force with a tree trunk

For a split second, he was convinced he’d just delivered the most passionate kiss of his life, more passionate than any male or female lead in a rom-com movie

He staggered back, clutching his nose as Luke erupted into wheezing laughter

“HAH! You should stop zoning out every five seconds, Ell. Your face landed square on that tree!” Luke cackled “Now come on, get in the car! We’ll get there real quick-”

“You’re not driving, Luke” Samantha snapped

“FUCK!” Luke shouted, throwing his hands in the air

-

-

-

A cramped car zoomed through the city streets, weaving past traffic lights and neon billboards, heading straight for their destination: SPOOKYHOUSE: EXTREME HAUNTED HOUSE EXPERIENCE

Inside, Sean whistled an off-key tune to fill the silence where the radio used to be. Both Samantha and Luke had taped the car stereo tape shut weeks ago in a desperate move to ban Sean’s music choices from ever assaulting their ears again

Only ten minutes remained until they arrived

“WE’RE ALL GONNA DIIIIIEEEEE!” Sean whooped from the driver seat, bouncing like a hyper kid. He’d been to Spookyhouse before, but this was the first time he’d succeeded in dragging Elliot along. The guy spent way too much time locked up in his own apartment, and Sean was determined to fix that

“Okay, but statistically, only about twelve people have ever died in haunted houses” Elliot said flatly, arms crossed “So we’re probably fine. Probably”

“Dude. Stop Googling haunted house fatalities” Luke groaned from the front passenger seat, tossing his head back “You’re killing the vibe”

Elliot stabbed a finger at his own chest. “I am the vibe. The vibe is anxiety and wanting to go home-”

Before he could finish, Luke shoved a gummy worm into his mouth

“Eat a gummy worm. It’ll help your stress. You look like a Victorian ghost about to cough up blood” Luke said with a grin

Elliot scowled, chewing the candy reluctantly

Meanwhile, Samantha was scrolling through reviews on her phone, her eyes wide with delight “Ooh, listen to this one: ‘This haunted house made me pee my pants and reconsider all my life choices. Five stars’”

“That’s the goal!” Luke announced “Pee your pants and leave with trauma. A day well spent”

“I already have trauma. It’s called house chores” Elliot muttered

Well…

Technically, it was trying to plan his next move to get back into the Forsaken Realm and save his friends. But same vibe

The car suddenly hit a bump in the road. Elliot yelped as his shoulder slammed into the door. Half of Luke’s gummy worms went flying, scattering across Elliot’s lap

“Oops. Sorry. Bonus snack stash!” Luke chirped, unbothered. He even picked a gummy worm off Elliot’s lap and popped it into his mouth

Elliot stared at him in horror “I should’ve just lied and said I had typhoid” he grumbled, brushing neon-colored candies off his lap

Luke leaned closer, still practically glowing with excitement “Come on, man. It’ll be fun! Screaming together builds bonds. Like… trauma glue!”

Samantha glanced at Elliot as she speaks

“Hey, Elliot, if an actor in a mask jumps out at you and tries to chainsaw your feet off… remember, it’s just a person making minimum wage. Please don’t do anything stupid”

“Great” Elliot said, rolled his eyes “I’ll just calmly ask him about his tax deductions”

Sean snapped his fingers “Wait. Let’s make a pact right now: if Elliot passes out, we’re leaving him behind as a gift to the ghosts”

“I hope a demon possesses me so I finally get some peace and quiet” Elliot deadpanned, crossing his arms tighter

“That’s the spirit!” Luke exclaimed “Literally”

Everyone burst out laughing, filling the tiny car with cackles, bickering, and overlapping jokes. The only thing missing was Sean’s horrific playlist, mercifully silenced beneath layers of duct tape. The car seemed to hum with electric joy as they barreled closer to the looming haunted mansion

“I hate Halloween. I hate all of you. And if a clown breathes on me, I’m filing a complaint” Elliot groaned. Yet a tiny, unwilling smile pulled at the corner of his mouth

“And yet you’re still coming with us” Luke said, nudging him with an elbow

Elliot sighed and let his head fall back against the seat, staring up at the stained car ceiling

“…Unfortunately” he muttered. But deep down, a tiny spark of anticipation flickered in his chest

-

-

-

At the parking lot of SPOOKYHOUSE: EXTREME HAUNTED HOUSE EXPERIENCE, neon lights blinked ominously in the night. Fog machines puffed thick clouds over cracked gravel, swirling around the parked cars like spectral fingers

The group’s car screeched to a stop, tires crunching on loose stones. Doors burst open and they spilled out in a tangle of limbs and backpacks

“WE’RE HEEEERE!! Time to question all our life choices!” Luke whooped, stretching his arms overhead, practically vibrating with glee

A few yards away, Richard bounced excitedly outside the main gates, waving a fistful of shiny tickets

“GUYS!!! You made it!” he shouted “I got the premium tickets! Front-of-the-line access AND free photos of us screaming in mortal terror!”

“Bless you, Richard. I want that photo framed over our fireplace!” Luke squealed, grabbing a ticket and hopping up and down like a child on a sugar high

“Richard, you handsome psychopath” Samantha laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair “How long’ve you been waiting out here?”

“About forty-five minutes” Richard said proudly “One clown tried to scare me. I tried to scare him back. He screamed and ran away like a wimp” He high-fived Luke, who howled with laughter

“That’s the energy we need today!” Luke declared

Elliot stood a few feet back, fidgeting with his fingers and eyeing Richard’s tickets like they were official death warrants

“I didn’t sign any waivers for ‘mortal terror’” Elliot muttered

“I bought you a ticket. Too bad. You’re coming” Richard smirked

Elliot let out a long, defeated sigh. There was no escape. No way out. He shuffled along as they dragged him toward the entrance

Suddenly, a familiar figure shuffled toward them through the fog, a teenager in zombie makeup, groaning dramatically. But braces glinted on his teeth beneath the fake blood

Elliot yelped and leapt back nearly three feet, arms flailing. Even the entire group blinked in shock

“Cody?…” Elliot blurted out

The zombie instantly froze, blinking, then gasped in recognition “Richard? Samantha? Sean, Luke… Elliot?!” Cody sputtered, voice squeaking as he broke character completely

“Could say the same to you, kid. Aren’t you supposed to be taking a day off?” Samantha asked, eyeing him up and down

Cody rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly “W-well… it’s because my brother works part-time here. He got into an accident and couldn’t make it, so he begged me to fill in. He promised to pay me back so he doesn’t miss his paycheck. Plus, the people here are super nice. I even got loads of free candy!”

He tugged a handful of brightly wrapped candies out of his pocket, grinning

“There’s more in my backpack, but I don’t have it on me right now. Want some?” he said, holding them out

“Well, good luck on the job, little man” Elliot chuckled, plucking a candy from Cody’s hand

“Should be wishing luck to you, Ell,” Luke said, eyes gleaming wickedly “If you faint, we’ll carry you out princess-style”

“I swear, if anybody tries to princess-carry me, I’m suing” Elliot grouched, cheeks flushed as he shoved the candy into his mouth

They all waved Cody goodbye and continued toward the turnstiles. Richard stepped forward, brandishing the premium tickets at the attendant, a teenager with dark circles under his eyes and the thousand-yard stare of someone who’d seen far too much

“Enjoy your screams” the attendant droned, voice completely deadpan “Please don’t punch the actors”

“No promises” Richard said with a wink

“Here we go!” Sean cried, pumping a fist in the air “Adventure awaits! Possibly a small heart attack!”

Before Elliot could bolt for the parking lot, Sean hooked an arm through his and dragged him along as the group plunged inside

-

Inside the Haunted House…

The moment they stepped through the black curtains, screams echoed around them. Colored lights pulsed and spun like police sirens. A severed mannequin head suddenly dropped from the ceiling, dangling on a string

Everyone jumped

Elliot shrieked the loudest

“I HATE THIS PLACE. I WANNA GO HOME. WHY DOES THE FLOOR FEEL WET?!” he wailed, clutching Sean’s arm so hard his fingers turned white

“Best day ever!” Samantha gasped, doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down her face

They pressed deeper into the darkness. Doors slammed shut behind them with a thunderous bang, making Elliot let out another squeak

Strobing lights flashed. Fog billowed across the narrow halls. Chilling screams echoed from unseen speakers

The group huddled tighter as they stumbled into the first chamber. A battered wooden sign hung crookedly overhead

CHOOSE YOUR FATE:
ENTER A DOOR… OR PERISH!

Five looming doors stood before them, each one painted differently

“WE GOTTA SPLIT UP!! It’s the rule!!” Luke yelled, practically vibrating

“THAT’S HOW EVERYONE DIES. HAVE YOU SEEN MOVIES?!” Elliot wheezed, eyes darting around frantically

Samantha planted both hands on his shoulders and firmly shoved him toward one of the doors

“Too bad. Go bond with a vampire or something”

Elliot threw his head back in despair “I HATE YOU ALL!!”

“Love you too, princess!” Luke chirped, already skipping toward the neon eyeball door

The rest of the group scattered toward their chosen doors, leaving Elliot standing alone, facing the crimson door that seemed to drip fresh “blood”

Elliot gulped

“Great. I’m gonna die in here. And I’ll be the one haunting you guys afterward” he muttered, pushing the door open and vanishing inside

-

Samantha bursts through a door labeled “The Clown Carnival” Neon lights strobe wildly. Maniacal circus music blares from hidden speakers

Clowns on pogo sticks bounce around her, cackling. A clown in rainbow hair skateboards past, honking a horn inches from her face

“HAHAHAHA- oh my god, I’m actually scared, but this is amazing!” Samantha gasps, eyes wide with adrenaline and glee

“WELCOME TO THE SHOW!” shrieks a clown, spraying a bright red liquid all over Samantha’s face

She wipes it off and tastes it thoughtfully

“Okay… that’s definitely cherry Kool-Aid. Bought for ten cents, divided in half for every surprise attack like this” She gives it a few more investigative licks, utterly unfazed

The clown blinks, startled. “Okay, cool- but how did you know we split it in half-”

“But I’m still gonna puke”

“Wait. NO. NOT ON MY COSTUME-”

“EUGHHHHH-”

“AHHHHHHHHH!”

And with that, Samantha projectile-vomits straight onto the clown’s costume. Both of them end up screaming, uncertain who’s more terrified of whom.

-

Meanwhile, Richard, who never seems truly scared of haunted houses, wanders through dim hallways, looking bored. He came here to experiencing fun with friends, but since they split up, it’s kinda boring here alone

“Did they even try to look creepy?” he mutters

He pushes into “The Victorian Haunted Parlor” Chandeliers sway overhead. A ghostly woman in a long gown floats forward, clutching a vase, wailing miserably

“This…is where I died. Where my body was left abandoned…” she whispers, weeping, then fixes her eyes on Richard

“Who…” Richard suddenly blurts out in a flat monotone, startling the ghost woman

She recovers, playing her part “My husband… He left me… for a milkmaid… AND TOOK THE COW!” she shrieks

“No. Who asked?” Richard deadpans, ghost lady stare at Richard, he smiles back, a shit eating grin to be exact

The ghost woman’s eyes narrow. Then she stands up and hurls the vase at him. It bounces harmlessly off his chest. Turns out it’s plastic

“THIS is why men are TRASH!” she roars

“Because I’m not screaming like a toddler at Chuck E. Cheese?” Richard scoffs, raising an eyebrow

“No. Because men swagger in here thinking nothing can scare them, acting all smug, until they run crying from the clown room!”

“Maybe we wouldn’t run if the clown didn’t chase people with a rubber chicken,” Richard shoots back, despite having zero clue what’s in the clown room

“It’s called theatre. Sorry your tiny male ego can’t handle it,” she retorts, crossing her arms

“My tiny male ego is fine. Your costume looks like a shower curtain”

“And your face looks like it’s trying to grow a beard and failing”

“Wow. Low blow” Richard touches his chin, genuinely offended

“Good. I’m aiming low. Like your standards”

“Funny you’d say that when you’re yelling at strangers for minimum wage”

“Funny you’d say that when you paid twenty bucks to get insulted!”

“Totally worth it. This is the best entertainment I’ve had all day”

“You’re impossible. You think everything’s a joke”

“Only because it is” Richard smirks

“I hope someone swallows you whole”

“I’ll send them your regards when I survive it”

The ghost lady glares at him, seething. Richard leans closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper

“Shred. The. Bread.”

. . .

That damned song

The ghost lady freezes, eyes wide. She scowls, momentarily speechless. Richard flashes his shit-eating grin and strolls past her like he owns the place

“Thanks for the tour, Shower Curtain!” he calls back over his shoulder

The ghost lady balls her fists, trembling with rage

“Men. Are. Actual. Trash,” she hisses, teeth gritted “And that song…!”

-

Next up, Luke. Surely it’s not that bad…

The instant Luke steps through his chosen door, it slams shut behind him with a hiss of hydraulics. The overhead lights flicker sickly, like a dying fish pretending it’s still swimming

The air reeks of disinfectant. And… was that mint?

He sniffs. Nope. Definitely blood. And maybe bubblegum fluoride

The room is a twisted parody of a dentist’s office. Plastic teeth dangle from the ceiling like trophies. A cracked fish tank gurgles ominously, housing what appear to be floating dentures. The dental chair in the middle looks like it’s claimed several victims, its headrest stained, footrest scratched, and a few mysterious reddish-brown smears no one wants to test for authenticity

And then he sees it

A figure in tattered scrubs lurches out from behind a curtain. Its skin is waxy and gray. Eyes milky white. And it’s wielding comically oversized pliers dripping with something that might be slime… or blood… or expired toothpaste

“O̴P̶E̵N̶ ̸W̶I̸I̷I̶I̵D̸E̴…” it gurgles

Luke lets out a scream so high-pitched it could shatter glass

He dives behind the dental chair, using it like a flimsy shield

“I DON’T EVEN GO TO REAL DENTISTS!” he yells, ducking as the zombie lunges, pliers snapping shut like metal crab claws

The creature hisses and suddenly starts weeping green goo from its eyes. Actual slime dribbles down its cheeks like haunted tears

Luke flattens himself against a cabinet, hyperventilating

“WHY DOES HE HAVE FLUORIDE DRIPPING FROM HIS EYES?! WHAT’S HIS DENTAL PLAN?!”

The zombie advances, squeaky Crocs squelching across the tile. Luke bolts, knocking over a rolling tray covered in rubbery fake gums and novelty molars. They scatter like popcorn as he skids into a corner

“Nope. Nope nope nope,” he chants, waving his hands frantically. “I floss! I SWEAR I FLOSS!”

-

Wowie! Everyone seems to be having so much fun! How about we take a look at Sean over here!

Sean’s door creaks open like a Scooby-Doo set piece. A sweet cinnamon scent wafts out

He steps into “The Haunted Gift Shop”, a dimly lit room filled with shelves towering to the ceiling, crammed with creepy souvenirs. Plastic skull snow globes. T-shirts with bloody handprints. Keychains that scream when pressed. An entire wall is devoted to animatronic dolls whose heads turn to follow your footsteps

“Cool” Sean murmurs “If I die here, I want my ghost to run this place”

From behind the register, a pale figure in a velvet cloak suddenly emerges. Fangs gleam in the dim glow. Their eyes shine red beneath heavy makeup

“C̴A̶R̵E̷ ̷F̶O̷R̸ ̷A̷ ̷S̷O̷U̴V̸E̴N̶I̷R̴…̸ ̸O̴R̶ ̶Y̵O̵U̴R̸ ̵B̵L̴O̴O̷D̵?̴” the vampire clerk hisses, extending clawed fingers

Sean pauses, eyeing them up and down. Then, deadpan

“Do you guys have fridge magnets?”

The vampire blinks once

Twice

“Uh…”

“…Yes?” they say finally, fumbling under the counter

Sean wanders over to a mug display. One mug has a screaming face molded into the ceramic. Another simply reads “I Survived Spookyhouse and All I Got Was This Emotional Damage”

He picks up a glow-in-the-dark mug that says “Screaming Inside” holding it up with a grin

“I’ll take five. Can you gift-wrap them?”

The vampire stares at him like he’s the true supernatural entity. Somewhere in the back, an animatronic bat starts flapping wildly, emitting a shrill, mechanical “eeeeek!”

Sean smiles brightly

“Also… do you validate parking?”

-

Finally, our main character! Elliot Builder. Who would rather be anywhere else on earth but here!

Elliot’s chosen room is pitch black the moment he enters. The door slams shut behind him with a metallic clunk

Then, total silence… except for a soft crackling of static

Long strips of black velvet curtains drape the hallway, brushing his arms and hair as he creeps forward. It smells like a cursed blend of cinnamon brooms, stale fog fluid, and something disturbingly reminiscent of an old attic

Elliot inches forward. Suddenly, a blast of compressed air hits him straight in the face, ruffling his hair and nearly knocking him off his feet

“OH MY GOD-” he yelps, stumbling sideways into the curtains. The fabric wraps around his face like a constricting octopus

“I hate this. I hate oxygen. I hate curtains. I hate-”

A blood-curdling shriek echoes down the hallway. Not a normal shriek, a guttural, demon-possessed, vocal-cord-melting wail

Elliot freezes

From the shadows ahead, something skitters. Fast. On all fours. The floor squelches with wet-sounding impacts

“No. Nope. Nope nope nope-”

A shape bursts from the fog like a giant spider on rollerblades. Black leathery limbs slap the ground. Red eyes glow. Horns curl upward. A voice rasps like gravel being ground in a blender

“Y̸O̴U̸ ̷S̶H̷O̶U̴L̴D̴N̷’̶T̶ ̸H̴A̵V̶E̸ ̴C̴O̶M̸E̴ ̸H̷E̷R̷E̵,̶ ̴E̶L̸L̷I̴O̴T̷…̸”

Elliot screams so loudly that a curtain falls off the wall

“HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!”

The demon lunges forward, then abruptly halts. It slowly lifts off its mask, revealing…

A teenage boy. Grinning. Chewing gum

“Yo. Sean paid me five bucks”

Elliot backs away, trembling

“I’m changing my name. I’m deleting my existence. I am going off-grid. I swear to God-”

Another blast of air erupts from the wall

“AGH. I HATE AIR!”

-

-

-

Eventually, the doors slam open and the group stumbles back into the same hallway like survivors washing up from a shipwreck

Samantha’s hair is streaked in red fake blood and flecks of her own vomits. Richard’s scrolling his phone like nothing happened. Luke’s vigorously scrubbing zombie fluoride off his jacket with a napkin that just smears it worse. Sean’s juggling three haunted mugs and humming happily

And Elliot? Elliot looks half-dead, eyes wide, hair in disarray, muttering under his breath like a man who’s seen the void and waved back

“So… how was it?” Richard asks casually, glancing up from Instagram

“I’M SUING EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU” Elliot roars, voice hoarse, jabbing an accusing finger at the entire group

“Best. Day. Ever” Samantha gasps, breathless, slapping Richard’s raised hand in a bloody high-five

Together, they stagger outside, zombie-walking toward the car and flopping inside like wet laundry. Everyone’s so exhausted they’re barely conscious

Sean plops behind the wheel, beaming like he’s won the lottery “Yo. I cranked the tape out!”

“Yeah… yeah sure…” Samantha mumbles, waving it off, slumping into the seat like a tranquilized bear.

Elliot has precisely zero energy left to argue. He’s too busy staring into the middle distance, eyelid twitching. Yet, deep down, he knows the truth

It was fun. Like, actual fun. Against all odds, Elliot realizes the screaming, terror, and random dental trauma kinda scrubbed the gloom off his brain like a mental healing pad

He catches himself smiling, a tiny, reluctant grin

Maybe it’s not so bad…
Maybe I’d even… do it again…

But his fragile hope is shattered in exactly 3.2 seconds

Richard suddenly frowns, glancing at the dash “Wait. What tape?”

Sean freezes, eyes sparkling with mischief. Slowly… dramatically… he peels a strip of duct tape off the car radio

Richard’s eyes widen in horror “Sean… don’t you dare-”

But it’s too late. Sean slams the button

BLARING THROUGH THE SPEAKERS...

EAAAAAAHHHHHH MY TOASTER’S ON VACATION!

MY HAIR SCREAMS ‘OVERRATED!’

“SEAN, YOU MOTHERFUCKER-” Elliot screeches, trying to crawl over the seat to throttle him

Luke’s mouth starting to form foam, Samantha’s slumped over in hysterics, Richard’s clawing at the door handle as if he can physically escape the noise

SHRED! THE! BREAD!

-

-

-

[They’re suffering, Elliot]

Notes:

6239 words
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Guys, I have two news
First, I'm quitting Forsaken, the update came so slow and players are getting toxic, I got send death threats and teamed on multiple times, it's not the game's fault but getting burn out, bullied on your own fav game and losing interest, it's hard to continue playing Forsaken and I'm afraid I'll soon also lose interest on writing this fic bc I use my passion and love for the game to write this, I wanted to pour all my love for the game into this fic, but without it, I hardly find interest in continue doing this

Second, it's all fake, author was being dramatic. Stupid author quit playing Forsaken but not abandoning this fic, he loves it too much to quit lmao loser, I'm still waiting for Azure to come and if Azure finally come then I'll probably fart back to play Forsaken :D

Chapter 18: An Old Friend

Summary:

"Reunite" means to come together again after a period of separation

Notes:

Holy shat, author has to rewrite this chapter so many time due to it not fit his liking, well it's one of my fav chapter anyways, so that's why, sorry for the short delay, and his head aches real bad after this chapter lewl

Chapter 17: An Old Friend

Today is a very normal day

Or at least, that’s what Elliot keeps chanting like a prayer as his alarm clock screams at him like a debt collector who’s finally run out of patience

BEEP BEEP BEEP-

“I don’t owe you anything except hatred” Elliot mutters as he slams his hand onto the clock, accidentally knocking it off the nightstand. It hits the floor with a satisfying clunk, small victory

He sits up with a groan, headache thumping like someone’s throwing a rock inside his skull

“Please… just one normal Sunday” he pleads to whatever higher being might be bored enough to listen

Dragging himself off the bed like a corpse rising to finish one last taxes before resting peacefully, Elliot shuffles toward the bathroom, fully intending to clean up and pretend he’s a functioning adult. That is, until he opens the door and

Ah…

Glass. Shards of it. Everywhere.

Like an artsy, dangerous installation titled “My Past Self Is A Douchebag”

Apparently, two days ago, Elliot had what could only be described as a “I’m gonna have a break down real quick” and decided that sweeping was a future Elliot problem. Well, future Elliot is here, and he is not pleased

“Seriously? Why did you decide to have a full-on meltdown and just… leave it like this?” Elliot grumbles as he squats and begins picking up the fragments, each one threatening to slice a piece of his already fragile sanity

He pauses when he spots a shard with dried blood stuck to it. His blood
“...Huh”
He stares at it for a beat too long, eyebrows twitching with a thousand unspoken thoughts, then promptly tosses it into the bag like it personally offended him

“Nope. Not today. We’re not doing that arc…”

After what feels like an hour of glass-related therapy, he finally finishes cleaning and marches to brush his teeth, his one moment of peace, thank you very much. To his surprise, the plastic cup on the sink doesn’t fall and hit him in the face today

“...huh. You’re feeling merciful now?” he says to the cup. It says nothing. Silent, smug bastard

Shower time is holy. It’s the one place Elliot feels like he’s ascending, warm water, clean hair, no metaphorical demons… only literal ones, and they don’t pay rent, so who cares
He exits the bathroom wrapped in a towel, steam curling behind him like he’s some kind of water deity returning from the clouds, only to step back into the crime scene that is his bedroom

“...Oh no. I forgot about you”

His ‘workstation’ is an organized nightmare. Pins, papers, folders, crushed cigarettes, mysterious stains, and a conspiracy board that looks one bad sigh away from collapsing

It’s giving ‘detective with a nervous breakdown’
It's also giving ‘Elliot, clean your damn room’

To his credit, the smoking sessions count has gone down. Progress!
Sure, he’s still got stresses hard to fight back, but hey, it’s the little wins

With a heavy sigh, Elliot tiptoes around the landmines of crumpled notes and thumbtacks, grabbing a folder at random and tossing a few hopeless papers into the trash.
“Yeah… that’s enough productivity for today” he says, immediately turning his back on the chaos like a true master of life decision denial

He shuts the door behind him and heads for the kitchen, stomach grumbling like it’s been personally wronged

Time for breakfast!!

Elliot opens the fridge and squints inside like he’s expecting treasure but knows deep down it’s just disappointment in a box

Eggs? Again? Been there. Done that for like 2 weeks now. Boring

Pancakes? Tempting, but the thought of batter getting everywhere makes his soul leave his body

Cereal? He narrows his eyes.

“No cereal. Haven’t bought it since last month” he mumbles, offended by his own past laziness “Also, it’s just sugar in disguise. I deserve better”

After ten full seconds of mental warfare, Elliot sighs and accepts his fate: a frozen donut. Cold. Sad. Slightly squished

He bites into it like a man who’s given up on joy
“Breakfast of champions” he mutters through the icing

Scrolling on his phone with one hand and munching with the other, Elliot half-heartedly searches the web. Keywords “Spectre”, “how to banish a shadow entity”, “why is my bathroom haunted”, “cheap mental asylum for friends near me”

Nothing

But!

99.9% of gamblers quit before they hit it big!!

He tells himself. He’s not even sure if that logic applies here, but it feels motivational, credit to Chance

DING-DONG!

The doorbell rings. Loud. Sharp. Uninvited

Elliot freezes, mouth still full of donut, thumb mid-scroll
He turns slowly toward the door, eyes narrowing

Huh? Who could be visiting him this early?

Elliot blinked in confusion at the door as the chime echoed through his house. Sean? No, he remembered Sean was busy today, polishing that disaster of a car like it was a sacred heirloom passed down by the gods of grease and chrome. Maybe it was Mia and Dad? If so, he couldn’t let them stand out there waiting. That would earn him a guilt trip longer than the Nile

Without a second thought, Elliot shoved the rest of the frozen donut into his mouth like a raccoon caught in a trash bin and shuffled toward the door

But to his surprise, it wasn’t Mia. Not Dad. Not a surprise pizza delivery mission

Standing at the threshold was Cody

The youngest employee at the pizzeria, bouncing up and down with the excitement of someone who had just been told recess was extended forever. Cody had only worked there for a month or two, but he was already a familiar sight, talkative, hardworking, and always rambling about taking care of his grandma or studying for college entrance exams once you get to know him more. Elliot never expected him to just show up unannounced

“Cody?” Elliot blinked, dumbfounded “What… are you doing here?”

“Hi, Elliot!!” Cody grinned so wide his cheeks practically launched off his face. “It’s super weird but also really nice to see you outside of work! Took me a while to find your place, though. Your address is like, hidden from Google Earth or something”

Elliot chuckled, ruffling the kid’s hair “You seem way too happy this early in the day, Cody. What’s got you bouncing like a pinball?”

“Glad you asked!” Cody lit up even brighter which should’ve been physically impossible, rummaging through his backpack like a magician about to pull out a rabbit. Instead, he whipped out a trio of colorful tickets “Ta-daaa!”

Elliot leaned in “Blox’s Wonders?” he read aloud, taking one of the tickets to examine. It was glossy and way too cheerful for this hour of the morning

“Yup! It’s a brand-new amusement park that just opened up, like, right her in our town!” Cody explained, his voice practically vibrating with excitement “My brother gave me these because I helped cover one of his shifts. He even volunteered to hang out with Grandma today ‘cause she’s not really into parks, so I could go out and have fun!”

“Well that’s great” Elliot smiled “Sounds like you’ve got a fun day ahead. Enjoy it, kid”

He made a move to step back inside

Bad idea

Cody tilted his head, eyes sparkling, and planted his foot in the door like an adorable little debt collector “Wait, you’re coming with me, Elliot! I came all the way here for a reason!”

“Me?” Elliot blinked “No, no- I still have some m- chores! Yes, chores! Lots of ‘em today!”

Total lie- Okay, half lie

The house still hasn’t been clean much ever since Elliot moved back, and he had absolutely zero motivation to clean it, and even less desire for company to see it

“Oh!” Cody clapped his hands together “Then I’ll help! I’m really good at tidying up! If we team up, we’ll be done in like, fifteen minutes! Then we can head out together!”

Elliot’s soul physically left his body for a second

He flung his arm across the doorway like a human barricade “No! That’s fine! I can handle it, really! You don’t need to help me clean, Cody!”

“But it’s Sunday, Elliot! You need some fun in your life! And I’m offering free labor!” Cody said, trying to peek around him

Elliot broke out in a nervous sweat. There was no way he was letting Cody see the crime scene that was his bedroom, the pins, the board, the mess that screamed ‘conspiracy theorist on the verge of unraveling’

And yeah no he’s not risking Cody finding out his whole plan while cleaning the house, nope never ever! Elliot sweats as he shooed Cody away

“Trust me. You helping would just slow you down. You should find someone else to go with-”

But that was the final straw

Cody’s face fell. His bouncing stopped. His hands dropped to his sides like deflated balloons

“…Oh” he said softly

And just like that, Elliot felt his entire soul disintegrate into a million guilt-flavored pieces

“You see” Cody fidgeted with his sleeves, avoiding eye contact “I’m kinda… closed off outside the pizzeria. Like, super awkward. I don’t really have friends. Not real ones. Other than my family… and you guys at the pizzeria”

Elliot visibly winced

You fool

You absolute clown. You kicked a puppy in the heart

“So…” Cody looked up again, eyes big and pleading “I don’t really have anyone else I could ask. Would you go with me?”

Elliot’s brain started screaming, but his heart had already been shattered and handed over

“I-I…”

“And if you say no, I will grab a broom and mop and vacuum and clean your entire apartment from top to bottom until you have no excuse left” Cody added with terrifying determination, already attempting to step inside

“NOPE- OKAY YOU WIN, STOP!” Elliot yelped, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him away from the door like a panicked dad catching a kid about to touch a hot stove

“I said yes, alright?! We’re going! We’ll go!” Elliot laughed nervously, his voice a bit high-pitched from the adrenaline of almost getting exposed. Cody didn’t seem to care. He was too busy jumping with excitement

“YAY! I KNEW YOU’D SAY YES!!”

“Cool! Come on! Come on! Let’s go!!” Cody bounced on his heels like a child hyped up on soda and chaos, practically yanking Elliot’s arm out of its socket

“Alright, alright, just wait here for a sec” Elliot said, already regretting everything about today “I’ll go change real quick”

He barely turned to head inside when a voice cut through the autumn air, familiar, exasperating, and capable of shaving five years off Elliot’s lifespan in one go

“Why can’t we just- you know, go inside and wait for you?”

Elliot froze

Oh god

That voice. He knew that voice

He heard that voice every single day at the pizzeria, usually accompany with Luke to cause the pizzeria’s manager anger issue or almost forgot to turn off the oven five times a day yet still somehow Elliot called that guy his friend

He turned slowly, and sure enough, leaning ever so smugly next to Cody, carefree and looks like he has zero purpose in life

“RICHARD?!”

“Duh” Richard replied with a nonchalant shrug, arms crossed like he hadn’t just committed a jump scare in broad daylight “Cody invited me too. Obviously”

Elliot blinked, staring blankly at Cody, who gave him an innocent thumbs-up and a bright “Surprise!”

“God” Elliot muttered, massaging his temples “I need to install security cameras. Or landmines. Maybe both-”

Richard tilted his head “You act like I broke in. I was just standing here. For, like, five minutes. I even waved at you. You stared right through me”

“I thought you were a hallucination” Elliot snapped “A loud one”

“Aw” Richard smirked, “you hallucinate me? That’s so sweet”

“Alright, alright,” Elliot chuckle, ignoring the impending headache “but where’s Luke and Samantha? Aren’t you usually surgically attached at the hip to those two?”

“Oh yeah, no” Richard waved dismissively, as if the answer were obvious “Samantha dragged Luke off to buy him new clothes. Turns out the guy’s been wearing the same hoodie for three years. I left halfway through. Too much fabric. Not enough air”

Cody snorted “I saw him wandering around looking like a bored divorcee, so I snatched him up”

“Snatched is a strong word” Richard said thoughtfully “but yes. That is what happened”

Elliot stared between them “So you both just… decided to show up here, unannounced, and now you’re loitering outside my house like a pair of lost raccoons?”

“Basically” Richard said

Cody nodded cheerfully “Also, I brought snacks!”

Elliot pointed at him. “Those are my snacks, that same left-over bag of chips last Friday”

“Were your snacks” Cody corrected, holding up a half-eaten bag of chips “I’m emotionally invested now”

Before Elliot could question every decision that led to this moment, Cody shoved him lightly toward the door “So? Are you gonna change or what? My feet are getting numb from standing, and Richard already used up all my data playing rhythm games while waiting!”

“I was rehearsing” Richard said proudly

“Yeah, he failed the easiest level five times” Cody muttered

Elliot sighed, gave up, and laughed under his breath “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything. Don’t go inside. Don’t climb my windows. Don’t sacrifice anything on my porch. Just- stand still”

“No promises!” Cody called cheerfully

Elliot rushed into the house and locked the door behind him like he was fending off a pack of wolves. The smile faded from his face the second he turned toward the hallway. His eyes darted quickly to the bag shoved under the table, the glittering remnants of broken glass shards, still waiting to be disposed of

Nope

They’re not seeing that

They wouldn’t understand. And they shouldn’t. That was his burden, his mess, his encounter with the Spectre. Cody and Richard didn’t need to get tangled in something like that. They’d walk straight into hell if he let them, clueless and giggling all the way

No. Never again

He wouldn’t let anyone else throw their life away like that

Not for a mystery

Not for him

He shook his head sharply “Snap out of it, Ell. You’re not brooding. You’re changing clothes. Big difference”

He stormed into his bedroom like a man on a mission. Pulled open the closet. Stared at the sheer avalanche of clothes he hadn’t touched ever since he last bought them

“Right. Fashion”
Elliot stared into the abyss of his closet like it had personally wronged him

There was a T-shirt with a dinosaur wearing sunglasses. Too childish

A hoodie that said, ‘I have no idea what I’m doin’’. Too accurate

A tank top boldly printed with ‘Hot and Emotionally Unavailable’…Tempting

But no. Not today…

Didn’t take Elliot too long, he now stood in front of his mirror, evaluating himself like a fashion judge on a reality show no one asked him to be on

The soft gray hoodie fit like a dream, sleeves hugging just enough without strangling his arms. The fresh-bought fabric still had that soft, smooth feel, like it hadn’t yet experienced the horrors of laundry day. Underneath, the crisp white T-shirt peeked out, uncreased and confident, like it paid rent to be there. He tugged at the hem absently, smoothing it out

Next came the denim jacket, clean, snug, structured. It made him look at least 12% cooler, and that was already a miracle

He looked down. Dark jeans, a little stiff from their first wash, but tapered just right over his ankles. He did a quick stretch, bent a knee, bounced slightly. Test passed

Good. He didn’t have time for wardrobe malfunctions today. People were waiting. People who would absolutely roast him if he showed up looking like a cryptid in flip-flops

He swept through the living room on autopilot, grabbing his phone, keys, and wallet off the table, then spotted a green beanie slouched on the sofa like it had been waiting just for him. He yanked it on in one fluid motion

A bit snug, but it made his hair behave. That’s all that mattered.

Elliot exhaled, cracked a small smile at his reflection.

As he hopped around trying to tame a rebellious sock, he cracked open the window

“Don’t burn anything!” he called

“WE FOUND YOUR GARDEN GNOME!” Richard shouted back, far too triumphant

“PUT HIM DOWN!!”

Dear god. That gnome had seen enough

-

He opened the door and stepped outside, his casual confidence somewhat undercut by the frantic pace of his own heartbeat

“Did you wait long?” he asked, shooting the two a sheepish smile as he emerged like a mysterious forest hermit who also had great taste in jackets

“Not really!” Cody chirped, rocking on his heels “You should take some more time though! Maybe double-check if you forgot anything? Like your soul? Your dignity?”

“Nope! Got everything!” Elliot said, giving Cody a gentle pat on the back as if to shut him up via physical contact “Let’s go”

Richard raised an eyebrow “You sure are fast with everything, Elliot. Chill a little, man. Take, like, half a vacation day mentally”

“Maybe later” Elliot muttered, already halfway down the street

Richard just shrug and herded the other two along “C’mon. No one flake out on me, or I’m putting both of you in a shopping cart and rolling you down a hill”

-

The three of them crammed into a taxi, Cody bouncing excitedly in the backseat, Richard lazily slouched like he paid rent in there, and Elliot squeezed awkwardly in the middle, silently questioning all of his life decisions

But still…

There was something warm about the moment. The familiar chaos, the distant hum of traffic, the muffled bickering in the backseat already brewing

-

-

-

The taxi screeched to a dramatic halt, rocking slightly as if it, too, was caught up in the excitement. The shuttle doors slid open with a soft hiss, releasing a puff of cool, climate-controlled air that felt like stepping into a sci-fi utopia

In front of them stretched Blox’s Wonders, the town’s newest amusement park, sleek and surreal, as if someone had taken a chunk of the future and dropped it gently into the present. Silver arches, glowing paths, gently floating signage… even the air smelled like bubblegum and high-tech dreams

Cody was the first one out, of course. He practically launched from the car before it had even stopped rolling, arms flung toward the cloudy sky like he’d just been freed from a lifetime in prison.

“GUYS” Cody spun in a full circle and let out a breathless laugh, practically vibrating. “Are you seeing this?! We’re not even inside yet and I think I’m already having the best day of my life!”

“I feel like I just walked into a sci-fi movie” Richard muttered, eyes wide

“Everything’s so… shiny. Look at that pavement! It’s literally glowing. What is this? Fancy sidewalk technology?”

Elliot pointed skyward, toward a towering structure of chrome and glass. Inside, translucent pods floated upward like bubbles in slow motion, before plummeting down in smooth, gravity-defying arcs “That thing looks like someone fused a lava lamp with a spaceship. Is that a ride?”

There was no hesitation. No nerves. No second-guessing. Just a wild, bubbling thrill building between the three of them like static before a lightning bolt.

The entrance gate shimmered with holographic letters, gently morphing between

WELCOME TO BLOX’S WONDERS
YOUR ADVENTURE BEGINS HERE

The moment they stepped through the sleek, arching scanner gates and handed over their tickets, the entrance pulsed with soft rainbow light and emitted a chime that sounded suspiciously like the startup sound of an expensive gaming PC

A cheerful, melodic voice echoed from above
“Guests Cody, Richard, and Elliot… Welcome! Enjoy your journey!”

All three froze

“…Did that thing just say our names?” Cody asked, eyes huge

“I think it did” Elliot said, glancing around for hidden speakers

“Yep. We’re officially in the future” Richard said simply, arms folded “This place is magic. And terrifying. But mostly magic”

“I love it here” Elliot murmured, and for once, he really meant it

-

-

Inside, the park was a dream painted in motion. Curved walkways, neon trees, and streets that seemed to rearrange themselves subtly when you weren’t looking. Colorful paths stretched out in all directions, each marked with sleek glowing signs: Doomspire Coaster, Nuke Falls, Freeze Tag War and The Sweet Sector, which appeared to be an entire street dedicated to desserts

Cody spun around in place like a compass trying to decide where joy lived “There’s a freeze ray obstacle course! There’s a gummy bear fountain! There’s a theater where you ride through a music video, I wanna live here”

“Let’s just walk until we hit something incredible” Richard said, already grabbing Elliot by the arm like a kid dragging his friend to see a cool bug

“Which should be in, oh-” he pointed just ahead “-about five seconds.”

He was right

Just beyond the central plaza loomed the Doomspire Coaster, a twisting, spiraling monster of a ride that looked equal parts terrifying and glorious. Chrome carts zipped through glowing loops, dove past lush gardens filled with bioluminescent flowers, and shot straight through the middle of a giant dome alive with pulsing lights and synchronized music

The whole thing looked like someone strapped a roller coaster to a rave

Cody’s jaw hit the floor “We’re doing that. Immediately”

“Absolutely” Elliot said, already walking forward

“Front row” Richard added with a grin, yanking them both by the sleeves “Or we riot”

As they rushed toward the queue, none of them noticed the small drone overhead quietly scanning, logging, and recording everything, from heart rate to laughter levels

But that was fine

After all, the real ride hadn’t even begun yet

The line moved faster than expected, almost suspiciously fast. But none of them noticed. They were too distracted by the glowing panels under their feet, the videos playing on the walls showing stylish slow-motion clips of riders screaming with joy (or terror), and the oddly calming breeze that smelled like citrus and cinnamon

Honestly, it was more luxurious than a spa. If spas launched you screaming through loops at 80 miles per hour

When it was finally their turn, they practically dove into the cart, Elliot on the left, Richard in the middle, Cody on the right. They yanked down the smooth safety harnesses as the ride operator gave them a nonchalant thumbs-up like he hadn’t just sent three chaotic boys to their doom

A soft melodic voice purred from the headrest speaker

[Initiating SkySpire Adventure. Hold tight, and enjoy the view]

“Yooo…” Cody whispered, eyes wide “Is it just me or does this thing already look terrifying?”

“What?” Elliot snickered “Don’t tell me you’re scared? Come on now.”

“Pfff! Oh please!” Cody smacked Elliot’s arm “You’ll be the first to piss your pants!”

“I dare you to say that again,” Elliot growled with a smirk

And then Richard leaned in with a grin far too calm for what was coming
“Then let’s make it interesting, first one to scream is a loser. Deal?”

Both Cody and Elliot grinned like goblins

“Hell yeah!!”

“Cody’s gonna lose”

“No, you are!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“...Yes”

“No- wait, HEY! I’M NOT FALLING FOR THAT!”

They laughed, right up until the cart jolted forward

The wheels clicked onto the track, and they were off

The cart rolled forward and clicked onto the track. A gentle incline took them higher and higher, the world dropping away beneath them. The entire park sprawled below, glimmering paths, tiny people waving, the glowing mist of fountains and rides scattered like stars

“Look at that view” Richard said, breathless

“It’s unreal” Elliot look around, his heart pounding, not with fear, but with life. The sky stretched wide, and the wind brushed his face, crisp and cool

“This is everything” At the peak, there was a split second of stillness, cold and quiet silence. Just the three of them suspended in time and space, Elliot turned around, wondering that’s going to happen next

“Hey are we supposed to be scared of this-”

WEEEEEEEEEEE

 “EKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!” Ridden over by fear, Cody let out the world most girliest scream one could done. He clung to Richard like a drowning man, arms locked around his torso in a bear hug of pure panic

The drop hit like lightning. The cart plunged downward with such smooth force that their expressions were whipped away by the wind. Hair flew. Stomachs dropped. The track twisted into a barrel roll, then a tight loop, then a wide curve over the fountains where jets of water sprayed skyward like fireworks, alright Elliot take that back. Screams of other riders filled his ears as his eyes widened in shock and he held his breath

No, he refuses. He REFUSES to scream right now! Didn’t he say he won’t do it?! The bet, THE BET REMEMBER ELLIOT?!

Nervousness growing inside of him, his arms sprawled the whole handle as the cart ran in circles leaving his seatmates unable to hold onto the metal bars

“ELLIOT! STOP HOGGING THE HANDLE!!” Richard yelled, still trying to pry himself loose from the Cody’s Koala grip around his ribs

Elliot did not hear. Or he pretended not to. Either way, the death grip remained

Then, the cart starts to slow down again. It is a sigh of relief for everyone include Elliot

Well… it would be if they didn't know that they were moving upwards. As they were ascending, he could feel his breath weigh heavier and heavier. When they finally reached the top, everything went silent, Elliot closed his eyes and smile, knowing his doom is coming

The cart fell. Again. Faster than the first time

Elliot couldn’t take this any longer, he hugs Richard, aka who’s the closest to him currently, Elliot cling onto Richard tightly for comfort but his pride refuses to let him scream. No, that won’t happen. He’s not gonna chicken out on this so in a spur of the moment, he opens his mouth

“YEAHHHHH MY TOASTER’S ON VACATION!!”

...What?

Elliot why…

“MY HAIR SCREAMS ‘OVERRATED!!’”

“WHO’S SINGING?! PLEASE STOP, I HAVE PARENTS AT HOME!!” screamed a random passenger in a different cart, on the verge of tears

Horrible. Toneless. Unforgivable
Elliot’s voice cracked and wailed like a banshee with a megaphone and zero remorse

It was so bad, it overpowered the screaming. People weren’t scared anymore

They were concerned

Guests clutched their ears. A child cried. Somewhere, a duck fainted.

Richard, poor, poor Richard was caught in the worst crossfire imaginable. One side Cody, still shrieking at dolphin pitch. The other is Elliot, singing with the raw power of a garbage disposal. Both of them clung to him like trauma made human

“GET. OFF. ME. I SWEAR TO EVERY CELESTIAL POWER-”

“SHRED! THE! BREAD!” Elliot sang with inappropriate passion

“SHUT UP, ELLIOT!!” Richard finally yelled

Even the ride’s AI whispered ‘shut up, Elliot…’

And that was the first half of the ride

-

The three of them stumbled away from the Doomspire Coaster, the ride’s wild momentum still echoing in their bones. Cody wobbled slightly, holding his head like he’d just gone three rounds with a blender on high speed

“I think… I think my brain just did a cartwheel inside my skull” Cody mumbled

“Please remind me” Richard whispered, gently cradling his ears like they were made of porcelain “to never… ever go on a ride with you two again. Not in this life. Not in the next. Not even as a ghost”

Elliot stifled a snort “Oh my god. Your ears…”

“They’ll never be the same” Richard croaked “They ring now. Constantly. I can hear colors”

But as the adrenaline slowly faded, laughter replaced panic, and their pace relaxed. They strolled through the park again, chasing more chaos like moths to a neon flame

Elliot’s eyes narrowed at the next monstrosity in their path, a towering wooden coaster that creaked with every gust of wind. Its frame leaned slightly like it had beef with gravity, and the entire thing looked like it had been built by raccoons with power tools in 1980.

“That looks… safe” Elliot muttered.

Cody beamed “It adds to the adrenaline!”

“One ride on The Clownivals and we won’t feel our legs” Richard said, deadpan

“I already can’t feel my soul” Elliot replied

They passed through squeaky turnstiles that somehow groaned like they were haunted, and suddenly the world opened into a chaotic, half-deranged carnival maze. Lights blinked wildly despite the bright afternoon sun. Animatronic clowns waved from rooftops with too much enthusiasm. A popcorn stand blared distorted jazz through a speaker that sounded like it had been dunked in soup

And then Richard broke formation

“DUSEKKAR!!” he shouted, bolting toward a giant claw machine like it owed him money. He fished a crumpled five-dollar bill from his wallet with intense determination

“You guys do whatever” Richard called over his shoulder “I’m getting that plush even if it kills me”

Elliot raised an eyebrow “That machine’s rigged”

“So am I” Richard replied coolly “I thrive in corruption”

Cody and Elliot exchanged a look

“Didn’t know he was that into old admins” Elliot said, slightly stunned

“You gotta understand” Richard began, without looking at either of them

“Dusekkar was one of the earliest admins. Helped Builderman build this whole world. There's barely any info about him anywhere. That’s the mystique, man! Mysterious, underappreciated, legendary… I admire him deeply. I even wrote a theory thread-”

And with that, the non-stop nerd monologue began

“Ten minutes?” Cody offered, watching Richard passionately rant to a very unimpressed claw machine

“Fifteen” Elliot said. “Then we drag him to the spinning teacups as punishment”

“Deal”

They wandered off down a candy-striped path lined with food stalls, passing churro carts, ice cream cyclones, and blaring arcade booths. Old-school music warbled from game speakers, mixing with the sound of distant laughter and screaming from the rides

The autumn air smelled of caramel apples and engine grease, weirdly comforting in its chaos

Elliot’s shoulders began to relax. For the first time in a while, he allowed himself to exist in the moment. To smile. To feel… alright

And then-

So much fun, huh? Must be nice

The thought slithered in, uninvited

You’re laughing while your friend is still trapped

You’re here playing around. Why aren’t you doing something? Anything?

Elliot’s hands trembled

Cody would be so disappointed in you when he finds out.

Builderman should’ve let you destroy yourself with cigarettes. Would’ve saved everyone the trouble.

Guest gave up everything to protect you. For what? So you could eat funnel cake?

His heart pounded, breath shallow

You don’t care. You’ve never cared. You’re selfish. Smiling while knowing the truth. That’s you

He stopped walking, frozen in place

“Elliot?”

He snapped out of it. Cody stood a few feet ahead, eyes full of concern

Elliot blinked rapidly and forced a smile, too wide, too quick, but convincing enough

“I still say this whole thing is one electrical fire away from a lawsuit.”

Cody giggled, easily buying it “Sure. But hey, it’s our electrical fire. Come on!”

He grabbed Elliot’s hand and pulled him forward again, laughter in his step

Elliot followed, smile still plastered on his face like a mask

But deep inside, the guilt still pulsed

Heavy

Undeniable

And getting harder to ignore

-

-

-

By the end of the day, the three of them walked back home. Richard had insisted they walk Elliot all the way back, not just for safety, but for fun, as he claimed. So they had dropped out of the taxi a few blocks early, wandering through the quiet streets as dusk melted into night

“Man, that was so fun,” Cody grinned, stuffing his hands into his hoodie, a relaxed glow on his face

“I still can’t believe Richard actually managed to win that Dusekkar plush”

“Pfft. You just have skill issues” Richard said smugly, rolling his eyes while proudly clutching the plush like it was some sacred trophy

“Oh, whatever” Cody snickered, nudging him lightly

But Elliot… didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smile

He walked quietly beside them, like a ghost tethered to the earth by some invisible weight. His eyes flicked to the sidewalk, to the darkened corners, to nothing in particular. His steps faltered slightly, like his legs were starting to forget how to function

And the thoughts

They came in waves

Why are you even here?

You don’t care. You never cared

Always pretending. Always lying

You were born selfish

All that fake kindness, you think that makes you a good person? It makes me sick

Not even the Spectre could be this cruel

You should’ve die

For their sake

Are you really that desperate for attention?

You’re worse than trash, Elliot. Useless. Disposable.

He couldn’t breathe

Why couldn’t he breathe?

His hands trembled violently at his sides. He shoved them into his pocket, as if that would hide the quake inside him

“Yo, hello? Elliot?” Richard’s voice cut through the static like a pin through fabric. He placed a hand gently on Elliot’s shoulder

Elliot flinched

“O-oh, uh… yeah?”

“You okay? You’re trembling” Richard said, concern lining his brow as he noticed the way Elliot’s fingers clenched into his sleeves

“N-no! I’m fine, just… just a little tired” Elliot said quickly, flashing a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked away

Richard didn’t buy it. Neither did Cody, who gave him a worried glance

“Actually, now that you mention it” Cody murmured, “Elliot didn’t look too good back at Blox’s Wonders either. I just thought maybe-”

CRASH!

The sound shattered the night. Glass? No. Metal? Not quite. It was something solid. Something wrong

Everyone stopped

No cars. No horns. No traffic. Just silence, and then the groan of something, someone, hitting the pavement

“There” Richard pointed toward a figure crumpled on the sidewalk “Someone’s down!”

He didn’t wait. He sprinted toward the figure. Cody followed instantly, dragging Elliot, who stumbled behind in a daze

They reached him

A man. Not bleeding, thank god, but groaning in pain, clutching his head. Just a few scratches here and there, his clothes dusty but intact

“S-sir? Are you okay?” Richard asked, kneeling beside him

The man groaned again, disoriented “S-sorry… where am I…?”

And Elliot

He stopped breathing

That voice…

That voice

It cut through him like electricity, like icewater dumped straight into his lungs

He pushed Cody and Richard aside without a word, stumbling forward, needing

Needing to see for himself

And when he did

The world stopped

It couldn’t be

But it was

That face. Those eyes

The one who used to push all the wrong buttons

The one who used to cause more pain than help

Their eyes met

The man’s breath hitched. His face transformed, from confusion to disbelief to wide-eyed relief

“E-ELLIOT?! Oh dear god, you’re here!” he blurted out, voice cracking like something inside him had just broken loose “You’re- oh my god, you’re okay!”

He looked like he wanted to hug him. Desperately. But his arms froze mid-motion, unsure if he was allowed

But Elliot didn’t move

Didn’t speak

Didn’t blink

He stood like stone, like if he moved even an inch he would shatter

“Thank god, you’re alive! Shedletsky’s been losing his mind! Builderman too! Everyone in the Forsaken Realm! we thought you were- god, Elliot! You’re okay! That’s all that matters, you’re okay-”

The man’s words poured out too fast. Cody and Richard exchanged confused glances, trying to keep up, but Elliot barely heard him

All he could hear was the echo of that voice. That familiar voice

Like fire and snow crashing together inside his chest

“Look, I-I know I’m the last person you want to see” the man said, backing up a step, voice softer now, trembling “I messed up. I know I-”

“Stop”

The word landed like a bullet

Sharp. Cold. Final

The silence that followed could’ve flattened a city

Elliot took one slow step forward. Then another

His hands were shaking. His eyes were wide. And every breath sounded like it hurt

“You don’t get to talk to me like we’re old friends” Elliot whispered

The words weren’t loud

They didn’t need to be

The man flinched. Like the sentence had been dipped in acid. Like it burned just to hear it

And then

something broke in Elliot

Not a sob

Not a scream

Not even a word

Something deeper

Quieter

Worse

It cracked in his posture, like a crumbling statue

In his eyes, hollowed, glassy, barely clinging to the light

Stiff. Fragile. Forgotten

He swayed

His body trembled, legs suddenly too weak to hold everything he was carrying, not just the weight of the day, not just the ghost in front of him

And then

his knees buckled

Before anyone could reach him, before a hand could steady or a word could pull him back

He went down

The world blurred at the edges, light bleeding like watercolors

The last thing the man saw in Elliot’s eyes wasn’t hatred

Wasn’t rage

Not even fear

Just…

Guilt

And a horrible, soul-deep recognition

“You’re real…” Elliot murmured, breath barely touching the air

And then everything collapsed inward

Like a puppet with its strings violently cut

Elliot crumpled

Folded in on himself and fell

The man lunged. Desperate. Uncoordinated

“Elliot!”

His voice cracked wide open. Splintered

But Elliot had already hit the ground

A dull, sickening thud

No resistance. No bracing

Just silence

Then-

A sharp inhale behind them. Cody’s voice, shaking “What the hell just happened?”

Richard already moving, shoving the man back, dropping to his knees beside Elliot, fingers to his neck, his pulse

The man stood frozen. Trembling

Hands out, but useless

Mouth open, but silent

“Don’t touch him!” Richard barked, suddenly standing between the man and Elliot like a wall of steel. His arms scooped Elliot up with practiced care. His eyes sharp, burning, pierced the other man

“Who are you” he hissed “and what’s your relationship with Elliot?”

“I-I’m someone Elliot knows…” the man stammered, voice breaking

“And your name?”

A pause

A long, aching silence

Then, softly

“…I’m… 007n7 ”

-

-

-

[How did you get out; NO this isn’t a part of the plan, you’ll ruined everything 007n7]

Notes:

6409 words
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Wowie, 007n7 escape!! Wonder how? Wait until the next chapter lol (aka next week bc author is lazy)
*Jumps in joy*

Chapter 19: For The Greater Goods (Rewrite)

Summary:

"Sacrifice" means giving up something valuable or important, like time, comfort, possessions, or even your life for the sake of someone else or for a greater cause

UPDATE (CONTAIN SPOILER): Sorry gang, I got disappointed in myself during this chapter, I feel like I just throw Dusekkar away, and say "Yeah ur dead lol" to him, which hurts me bc it reminds me of how that one fav char of mine got that treatment, so I add a tiny bit more words, yk, give it a lil more push (IT'S NOT LIL PUSH I SQUEEZED MY BRAIN OUT AND IT HURTS) ^_^
Incase you wonder what I added in, I expand the Dusekkar n Spectre's fight

Notes:

Fun Fact With Elif!! Did you know?
-pink Carnation means: affection, admiration, like it's saying "You're adorable"!
-Begonia symbolize caution, thoughtfulness, and gratitude, like it's screaming "Beware; I'm warning you about trouble" to us!
+Foxglove means: deception hidden in beauty, perfectly symbolic of a dangerous ideology masked in charm
+black Dahlia means: betrayal, dark secrets, warning
+Wolfsbane (Aconite) means: misanthropy, deadly deceit
=>if someone given those three flowers tied in back ribbons to a cult or sumthing, It’s not about comfort anymore, it’s a message. A warning. A mirror held up to a lie. Like passive-aggressive!
-yellow Hyacinth means: Jealousy, lies, betrayal, and false hope

Chapter 18: For The Greater Goods

 

 [Before Chapter 17]

 

“Oh! Timey! You’re back!!”
The voice rang out like a melody, light and bright, wrapped in the scent of warm soup and fresh herbs. The moment Two Time stepped through the door, it hit them like a breath of spring, cozy, familiar, heart-achingly beautiful

That voice could outshine any choir

Their feet moved on instinct, pulled toward the kitchen by the voice, the smell, the warmth

And there, in the heart of their home, stood their reason for everything

His witch’s hat rested on the table, safely out of splash range. Without it, his brown hair fluffed around his face like down feathers, a single Begonia tucked neatly behind one ear. He was humming, stirring a pot of soup, the rhythm in his shoulders, soft little motions of peace

Peace

Something Two Time hadn’t known before him

They smiled, stunned. Completely, blissfully ruined by the sight

“Hey, dear…” they breathed, sinking into the nearest chair as though their bones had melted. Their eyes never left him

He turned and smiled

God, that smile. Bright enough to burn away every shadow

“I missed you so much! It felt like decades, my Nightshade” ꍏꁴꏢꋪꏂ cooed, ladling soup into a bowl. He stepped over and kissed Two Time’s cheek, then gently pressed the warm bowl into their hands

“Eat up. I made your favorite”

Two Time looked down at the soup like it was a priceless relic

“Every meal you make is my favorite, my pink Carnation”

That made him giggle, flustered. He gave their shoulder a few soft slaps

“Stop!! You’ll make me blush!” he said, then kissed their head before returning to the stove

Two Time dug in

And they smiled

A real smile. Not the fake kind they wore for the world. This was home

They watched their partner flutter around the kitchen, babbling cheerfully about their day

“Found my old shovel, finally! Been missing for days. It turned up under the porch! How weird is that?” he laughed. “Anyway! I took it as a sign. Dug up a few old herbs, prepped the altar… oh, that reminds me!”

He bounced over, holding a bouquet tied in black ribbon

Foxglove. Black Dahlia. Wolfsbane

Beautiful. Dangerous

He carried it with reverence to the small shrine for The Spawn, hands folded in a silent prayer

“To what you’ve sown, may this bloom in kind” he whispered, then placed the flowers carefully down

Two Time watched him in awe

He glowed when he prayed. When he gave

When he loved

And then he turned, eyes wide “Wait- I almost forgot! I got you a present!”

Like a child on Christmas morning, he sprinted to the cabinet, returned with a box, and plopped it in front of Two Time

“Here! Sorry, I might’ve overdone it with the tape. I didn’t want it to fall open or anything” he handed over the box cutter

Two Time took it with a warm chuckle “Don’t worry. Even if you gave me a box filled with air, I’d still love it”

He blushed, hiding his face with both hands “You’re so dramatic!! Stop it!”

Still giggling, he leaned down and kissed them again

Two Time smiled as they began cutting through the tape

What could it be? A book? A tool? A collection of pressed flowers?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter

They’d cherish it

Because it came from him

They peeled back the final flap

And everything stopped,their breath caught in their throat

Inside the box

Lay a heart

Beating once

Then still

Wet. Drenched. Red. Raw. Real

It rested atop a bed of crushed yellow Hyacinths, the petals already soaked in blood

Their own heart shriveled in their chest

“What’s wrong, love? You look like you’ve seen a ghost” his voice was still warm. Too warm, too calm

Two Time’s mouth opened, then shut, they looked at him, then lower

To his chest

To the hole

The enormous, gaping hole in his chest, blood dripped down slowly, painting his shirt a rich crimson

Still, he smiled

As though he didn’t feel it

As though he wasn’t dying

Or maybe…

He already had

Two Time’s hands trembled violently, the box cutter was no longer just a blade

It was a dagger

Slick with blood

His blood

No

No no no

Two Time screamed, though it made no sound, they dropped the dagger, It hit the ground with a sickening clatter

Their breath came in ragged gasps. Their chest burned, tears poured freely, painfully, as they crawled away from the box

“I-I didn’t-”

“Shhh. Shhh, it’s alright” he knelt beside them. Took them into his arms

His body was cold

So very cold

“Accept it, my Nightshade”

They sobbed into him, shaking, hands gripping his bloodied shirt as if holding tighter could undo what had been done

“I didn’t want this… I didn’t mean to hurt you…”

“You didn’t. You gave The Spawn everything. This is just the price of devotion”

And then

they began to fall

Yellow Hyacinths

One. Then dozens. Then hundreds

Falling like soft curses, filling the room, smothering them

They choked, petals clogging their lungs

They tried to crawl away

But the flowers piled too fast

He held them tighter, rocked them like a lullaby

Whispered “I love you” into their hair as their vision blurred

Blood dripped down

Not just from him

From them too

Their skin bloomed red under the Hyacinths

They screamed

But the flowers swallowed the sound

Their world darkened

Not with hate

But with grief

…

..

.

“…wake up, Two Time…”

“…Two Time…”

“…uh, hello? Two Time?”

“…wake up, Two Time…”

“Dude, wake up.”

“WAKE UP!!”

“AGHHHHHH!”

Two Time jolted upright with a strangled screech, drenched in a sudden wave of panic and guilt so strong it nearly pulled them back under. Their breath stuttered in broken rhythms, lungs heaving for control, as their heart beat like a war drum against their ribs. The room swam around them, ordinary, dimly lit, and yet steeped in the residue of something… wrong. Something unseen. Something that had touched their mind and lingered still

Weird…

Lately, they’d been getting dreams- no, nightmares…

Maybe it was just stress

Maybe

Who could blame them? The last few matches had been brutal. Bone-breaking, blood-soaked, soul-dragging brutal. The tension barely had time to loosen its grip before a hand touched their shoulder

And that was a mistake

Two Time snapped their head toward the source, a flash of fear turning instinctual as their body flinched away. For a breathless moment, they looked more beast than person

Chance froze, his eyes wide in surprise

“Woah- hey, hey! It’s just me” he said, pulling his hand back like he’d nearly been bitten. Again. He shook it off with a nervous laugh, slipping back into his casual drawl.

“Creepy, but kinda cool. Anyway, Dusekkar wants you at his cabin. Big strategy talks. Him and 007n7 are calling you back in. Looks like we’re about to move on to next phase”

Chance flipped his coin with a practiced flick, caught it midair, eyeing Two Time with a half-smirk. But it faded quickly

Because even Chance noticed it

The tremble that still clung to Two Time’s hands. The twitch in their shoulders. The mask slipping ever so slightly

Two Time tried to cover it, of course. Plastered on their usual sharp-edged grin, eyes too wide, too bright

“I’ll be there soon. You go on ahead” they said, already rising from the bed and gently pushing Chance toward the door “I’ve got… a prayer session to finish.”

Chance raised an eyebrow but didn’t fight it

“No ‘Blessed be the Spawn’ chant today? Huh. You’re really off” He chuckled lightly, flipping his coin one more time

“Sweet, heads again”

He walked away, whistling some tune only he seemed to know

As his footsteps faded, Two Time leaned back against the door, sliding down until they were seated on the cold wooden floor. They let go of the smile like it was poison, exhaling in a ragged, broken sigh. Their breath faltered again, lungs unsure how to be steady without faking it. The world around them, familiar, safe even felt foreign. The corners of the cabin stretched longer than they should’ve. The air felt heavier. But everything was still. Quiet. Normal

So why did it feel like something was watching?

Their eyes slowly drifted across the room until they landed on the only thing that offered comfort: the shrine

Yes

The shrine

Delicately built, meticulously maintained. Made of scraps, torn cloth, wood- whatever they could find. The Spawn’s gaze burned from the crude idol at the center, a shape that defied true form

Right

The praying session

Two Time crawled toward it, slow and reverent, folding their legs beneath them as they knelt. They brought their hands together

Their voice shook as they began

“Still your thoughts. Still your fear. Let the silence stretch long… and hear the breath of the Spawn within it. In stillness, It speaks…”

Their voice steadied with each repetition

“Still your thoughts. Still your fear. Let the silence stretch long and hear the breath of the Spawn within it. In stillness… it speaks”

They closed their eyes and exhaled. The world around them faded, until there was only the pulse of something greater. Something ‘happy’

They continued, now louder, firmer

“We open our minds… our flesh… our trembling hearts. Guide us through this waking dream of sorrow and fire. Bless our footsteps through the long shifts, the sleepless hours, the empty bellies. Let Your will curl around us like smoke. Let Your truth root in our bones”

The mask slid back into place, not with joy, not with hope, but with a devoted, trembling grin. A smile built on cracks. A smile sewn from faith, fear, and something far too close to madness

“Spawn be praised” they whispered “Its will is mercy. Its gaze is endless”

They bowed low, pressing their forehead to the floor

“To be seen is to be judged. And to be judged… is to be reshaped”

They shuddered, almost in relief. The Spawn was watching. It always was. And in Its gaze, they didn’t have to carry this alone. In Its mercy, they didn’t have to think. Or question. Or remember

How kind of the Spawn, to take the burden of choice from them

How generous, to still care for something as broken as them

“…Devour us, O Spawn,” they whispered “Make us whole”

-

-

-

“A-Are you sure this will work?” 007n7 asked, hesitation clinging to every syllable. His fingers twisted together in anxious loops, unable to meet Dusekkar’s glowing eyes. His head remained bowed like a weathered hound, ashamed, weary, and full of regret

Dusekkar didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he flipped over a parchment etched with strange symbols and lines of code that pulsed faintly with light. His voice rang with poetic certainty, steady as stone

“Through lines of code where shadows creep, my plan shall wake what lies too deep”

He studied the page once more, then tossed it onto the table without a second glance

“…If you say so” 007n7 murmured, still unconvinced, still unable to shake the weight of failure

Before further doubt could blossom, the door creaked open

Chance strolled in with his usual careless grin, coin dancing in the air, flicking and catching like second nature. Too calm for the storm in the room. Too smug for the stakes that lay before them

“So, gang” he drawled “how’s the doom and gloom coming along?”

“Oh! Hi, Chance…” 007n7 turned awkwardly, forcing a tight smile “We’re, uh… talking about the plan. The one to reach the bug”

Chance raised an eyebrow “Man, you look like you’re prepping for the apocalypse” he chuckled, coin flipping again

Dusekkar’s frown deepened, shadows curling beneath his pumpkin-flame eyes

“This is no time for careless grace, nor laughter worn upon your face. The air grows still, the silence deep, we wake the dark that does not sleep. So tread with care, and guard your breath, for every step walks close to death”

“Geez” Chance muttered, brushing off the warning “Can’t a guy be chill? Besides, if you’re here, I’m sure things will go smoother than butter”

He earned nothing but a shove in response

007n7, eager to redirect, tilted his head “Wait- where’s Two Time? I thought you will bring them here?”

“Right, yeah, Two Time said they needed a minute. You know, for their praying ses-”

The door slammed open before he could finish

Two Time stood in the frame, smiling wide, dagger in hand, eyes alight with strange fervor

“Ah! Greetings, beloved kin. Have I missed a revelation? Or has the Spawn shared Its whisper in my absence?”

“You’re here” Dusekkar said, his voice edged with disappointment “Though time’s near fled, I half believed you lost or dead. But no, just late, as is your way, while others bled to clear the way”

Two Time didn’t flinch. Their grin widened

“So” Chance clapped his hands “We all good now? Mind telling us the plan?” His hopeful eyes drifted to 007n7, who looked like he'd rather melt into the floor than speak up

“A-Alright” 007n7 stammered “I’ll explain”

He stepped into the center, cleared his throat, and tried not to crumble under the pressure

“So… credit to Chance… we found the bug’s location. I’ve been… working on exploiting my way to it…” his voice faltered, low with guilt “I’ve found a way to creates a hole. A crack. A small breach into Planet Voss. And we’re launching today. We can’t wait any longer. If The Spectre patches the bug- then… then no amount of miracles could reopen it again”

Chance leaned forward, eyes squinted “Hold on, hold on, how did you even manage to?” 007n7 hesitated, then slowly shook his head

“It wasn’t my idea. It was… Dusekkar’s. He said it would work. And I trust him”

Chance turned toward the admin, doubtful

Dusekkar didn’t waver

“Worry not, I swear upon my pride, my name, my very breath, that 007n7 shall see this through, defying doubt and death. With fire and will, the path we’ll cross, and soon our feet shall grace Voss”

Two Time clasped their hands in awe, a radiant joy spreading across their face

“For one such as Dusekkar to bind his word to his name and pride… that is a vow more sacred than flesh. I believe him. The Spawn hears such oaths. You would not dare speak it unless it were destined”

Dusekkar’s flame flared brighter

“Do not dare speak your ‘god’ and I in the same breath, the thought alone is poison, a curse more foul than death. It sickens me to hear my name from your defiled tongue, and worse, to walk beside The Spawn you serve with songs unsung”

Still smiling, Two Time replied sweetly “You’re just jealous. Jealous the Spawn is greater than you. That your pride, your knowledge, can’t compare to Its glory”

That did it

Dusekkar snapped toward them, the flames in his core crackling furiously, staff trembling under tightened grip

“Shut that filthy mouth, don’t speak, your wretched faith is vile and weak. Keep your cult and lies at bay, how dare you bring that filth my way”

“Whoa, whoa!” Chance jumped between them “Let’s not kill each other before the plan, yeah?”

Dusekkar stood down, but his glare could’ve burned through steel. Two Time, unbothered, simply tilted their head in amusement

007n7, still sweating, cleared his throat again. “A-anyway, yes. I’ll get us there. But we need to move fast. If The Spectre realizes what we’re doing, it’ll try to throw us back, or worse…”

He looked around at the team “I know… most of our weapons are useless against it. So, I suggest we all drop anything that might slow you down”

Chance whistled, setting down his infamously janky gun

“Say no more” He started pulling out junk, spare dice, his lucky coin

007n7 awkwardly set aside a few things, including his burger hat

Chance glanced at Dusekkar, then his staff “That thing looks heavy. You sure about carrying it?”

The admin was already removing his heavy cloak, revealing a sleeveless white turtleneck, his expression unreadable

“I shall keep it close, this staff, my soul, the same. We've walked through fire, through grief, through flame. Too much I’ve poured, too deep it’s grown, to cast it off would leave me stone”

“…Fair enough. And you, Two Time?”

Two Time held up their dagger reverently “This… I can’t leave behind. It’s all I have left of someone I loved. It’s not for killing. It’s… a reminder”

Chance raised a brow “No mention of the Spawn this time? Huh”

The cultist only smiled

Finally, with all preparations made, 007n7 opened his c00lgui. Streams of code and shifting data filled the air like a living thing. Chance leaned in, squinting “How the hell do you read that?”

“Haha… I get used to it” 007n7 replied, eyes locked on the screen, fingers dancing across invisible lines

Each firewall fell like dominoes

He’d done this a thousand times before. But never for this

Once, he broke things for himself. Now… he was breaking a path for all of them

And that made all the difference

*error :(*

The c00lgui pulsed with the corrupted symbol, flickering like a wounded heartbeat

That simple, broken message jolted 007n7 back to the present

He sucked in a breath

“This… this is the final wall” he whispered, voice shaking “Dusekkar said… it might take time. Might… hurt”

His fingers hovered in hesitation

Then, with trembling resolve, he plunged his hands into the glitching interface

Time stopped

His eyes went wide, too wide. The color drained from his face

And then

It hit

Like fire ripping through his nerves. Like razors under skin. Like his entire body had been set ablaze from the inside out

He screamed

Not just a cry of pain, but a screech that shattered the room’s silence and turned stomachs. An unfiltered, horrifying sound, raw and primal

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!-”

His body jerked, veins in his neck bulging as he arched backward, hands still buried in the glitching wall of code

“007N7!!” Chance dashed forward, panic erupting “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! PULL YOUR HANDS OUT!”

He grabbed for him, tried to yank him away, but the c00lgui clung to 007n7 like it had fused with his skin. It twisted around his arms like living circuitry, burning patterns into his sleeves and wrist. Chance’s grip slipped as sparks singed his fingers

“IT BURNS! IT HURTS! OH GOD, IT HURTS!!” 007n7 wailed, tears spilling down his cheeks

Chance spun to Dusekkar “DUSEKKAR!! DO SOMETHING! HE’S BEING TORN APART!”

But the admin’s gaze was steady. Hard. Still

“I spoke no lie of ease or grace, for pain must come to earn our place. But still your fear, and lift your eye, 007n7 will not die”

“Are you insane?!” Chance barked. “He’s in agony!”

Dusekkar didn’t flinch. “Let him dig. The path lies just beneath the agony”

Chance’s fists shook, but he didn’t stop it. Couldn’t

All they could do was watch as 007n7 screamed and cried, body convulsing, muscles straining as if every nerve was caught in fire. The c00lgui tried to push him back, glitching violently, resisting

But he pushed harder

His legs buckled. Blood trickled from his nose

And then-

A flicker

A spark

A tiny crack opened

Beyond that reach Planet Voss

007n7 let out a shuddering gasp of hope “I… I see it…”

But the c00lgui twisted, surged back in. The hole began to close, fighting him

“No… NO!” he cried “Please, not now! PLEASE!!”

Tears streamed down his face as he grabbed the edges of the portal, forcing it open with all the strength he could muster. It burned deeper. The pain was blinding now. Unforgiving

His screams went hoarse

“I WON’T LET IT CLOSE, NOT NOW, NOT AFTER ALL THIS!-”

And then, it came

A sudden blue aura, shining around him like holy fire. It flared from deep within, radiant and ancient, almost too real, as if something greater had answered his agony

It burst outward with searing plasma tendrils, blasting apart the c00lgui, disarming the defenses, peeling the digital wall back like wet paper

The room rumbled. Particles fractured midair. The floor collapsed

“OH SHI-” Chance’s words cut off as he fell

THUMP

He hit grass

“Ow…”

He sat up, blinking in shock. The sky above him flickered between blue and red. The earth beneath him felt familiar. Too familiar

“...We made it?”

Around him, others began to fall through the collapsing void

Two Time landed in butt flat just like him, still smiling, whispering something beneath their breath

007n7 dropped last, half-conscious, limp, his hands smoking from the damage. But there’s no injuries

Dusekkar landed on both feet like a meteor

And without wasting a single second, he shouted

“RUN. NOW”

Everyone jerked up. The calm was shattered

“I’M NOT GOING TO SUGARCOAT IT, SPECTRE IS HERE”

Chance whipped around, and in the distance, he saw it

A faint white spark, shifting, glitching like a single pixel caught in a loop

The Bug

Chance’s heart skipped “That’s it. That has to be it!”

Dusekkar didn’t wait. He grabbed 007n7 by the collar and practically threw him forward

“MOVE. NO TIME FOR HESITATION”

They all bolted

Behind them, the landscape of Planet Voss was collapsing, folding in on itself like a dying star. The trees evaporated into wireframes. The grass blinked to static. The ground cracked and fell into void

“THE MAP!-” 007n7 gasped, stumbling “IT’S-IT’S CRUMBLING!”

His body screamed in pain. Every breath hurt. His legs barely worked

But Dusekkar didn’t let him stop

“I’VE GOT YOU” he growled, grabbing his arm “JUST RUN”

Chance could hear it now. The howl. The distortion. Something enormous was warping reality behind them.

Dusekkar say no more. His eyes were locked on the spark, the bug. The only way out

Glitches tore the sky like lightning. Code spilled from the heavens like rain. Segments of the map broke off and vanished, leaving only abyss

Chance reached forward, helping drag 007n7 along, breath ragged

“WE’RE ALMOST THERE!”

The ground cracked behind them. Huge chunks fell. The void ate everything it touched

This was it-

[Halt]

With a telepathic wave, everyone froze, paralyzed

[Have you done yet?]

No sound. Just words, forcefully etched into their minds

It was silent

But it shook them to their bones

Oh no…

It's here

It has arrived

[I’ve done playing around with you pests]

[Everything would’ve went on as usual. No brutal deaths. No killer-sided matches. If you had simply stayed in your place. If you hadn’t dared to be heroes. If you hadn’t tried to save your pathetic little pizza boy]

[But no. You defied me]

[You pushed my limits. I’ve been generous]

[It seems... I must remind you of your place, toys]

007n7 couldn’t breathe. His lungs refused to move under the crushing weight of The Spectre’s presence

They hadn’t reached the bug in time

"I’m sorry…" he choked, barely audible. Guilt twisted his chest. The failure was his burden to carry

[I won’t spare anymore kindness. You’re broken. You’ll never be fixed. You were made to entertain me. And now, you will be unmade]

[You will meet your demise-]

“I’m afraid I can’t let you lay a hand, not on my friends, not while I still stand. They are my bond, my shield, my breath, and I’ll guard them still, 'til my last death” the voice cut through Spectre’s words like a blade

Dusekkar

Everyone turned to look. The admin stood tall, back facing them, unaffected by The Spectre’s grip. Fire surged from the carved cracks of his pumpkin head, flickering with wrath so intense it began to scorch and split the gourd

[You. You pest]

[You and that pathetic exploiter. You think I didn’t notice the push you gave to 007n7? You think your little trick was invisible to me? FOOL. I see everything]

“Of course not, I’ve known all along, you watch us close, sharp and strong. Your gaze, a shadow I've long endured, a lurking threat I’ve long ensured”

Dusekkar turned

“So I forged this trump card, forged it well, a gift for you, from deepest hell”

The pumpkin cracked wide

Fire exploded

His staff, blazing brighter than ever

[You. FILTHY. RAT]

The Spectre’s rage cracked the map beneath their feet. But just as quickly, a familiar blue glow sealed the crumbling away

“I shall not let your filthy hands draw near, not to my friends, not now, not here. Mark my words, remember this day, for I shall meet my end, come what may. I face my fate with head held high, If I must fall… then let me die” Dusekkar’s voice echoed like a death knell

Blue aura surged outward like a sacred wave

CRACK

007n7 broke free. No one had to tell him what to do

“RUN! DUSEKKAR CAN’T HOLD FOR LONG!” he screamed

No time to think

Only move

Chance grabbed Two Time, who was still fumbling to hide their trembling hands and retreating dagger

The corruption hissed like a serpent, slithering in to cover the bug. But a plasma blast roared across the map, clearing the way again

Planet Voss trembled violently, the code unraveling between destruction and resistance

“Your fight is mine, not theirs to bear, so turn to me, if you even dare” Dusekkar stood between them and the bug, unwavering

[So you do know how to claim back the power I stolen from you]

[How, divine being? How did you tear my gasp from your soul?]

Dusekkar didn’t flinch.

“I won’t spare another word for you, my silence speaks the truth more true. And know this well before you rise, no friend of mine shall meet demise”

[And what about you?]

“I leave my end to fate’s own hand, but not my kin, that, I forbid. No thread you pull, no will you bend, shall bring my loved ones to their end”

[Fair enough. Matt Dusek, today... you shall meet your ends]

Not by force, but by presence. The air thickened like drowning oil. The map trembled even more. Planet Voss groaned like a dying animal beneath their feet. Code warped. Skies bled static. Ground twisted into impossible angles, cracking with deep, pained wails

[I am disappointed]

The words weren’t heard. They were printed into Dusekkar’s skull, carved directly into bone

Yet Dusekkar stood tall

He remained upright, unaffected by the collapsing map, the flame glowing from him billowing in a storm that had no wind. His cracked pumpkin helm flared with heat, embers drifting like fireflies over a battlefield

[THIS PLACE IS ME. THE SKY. EVERYTHING. THE BREATH YOU TAKE. I AM THE LAW HERE]

And the map agreed

Lightning ripped sideways through the clouds, fractals of code unraveling the sky. The map’s structure twisted like blades. The ground exploded into vertical pillars

But Dusekkar charged forward

His staff slammed into the ground

BOOM!

A shockwave of blue cleansing the corruption for a breath of clarity. Fire surged from his core, incinerating the corrupted energy of Spectral rot crawling toward his feet

The Spectre hissed

Reality bent. Dusekkar's staff buckled in his hand as gravity flipped, then twisted again. A chasm split beneath him, bottomless, filled with pitch black void and corrupted echoes of his own face. Screaming

But he leapt, soared over it, striking midair with a downward swing. The staff hit something, not flesh, but presence. And it screamed

Everything screamed

Spectre's scream

The world howled like a wounded god. Time stuttered. Seconds cracked and folded, as if resisting what had just occurred. And Dusekkar, he kept going

He struck again

Again

His fire grew brighter with each hit, divine code searing the twisting environment. The corruption recoiled, even the air seemed to burn away from him, cracks began to form all over the place

Dusekkar raised his staff and commanded the light

A towering blaze of sigils wrapped around him like a divine pyre

Then he moved

Faster. Sharper. With fury

He lashed forward, each motion leaving streaks of radiant magic in the air. With a flick, a wall exploded into light. A blink, he teleported above the sky and shattered it with one downward swing

"THIS. ENDS. HERE. SPECTRE!"

And with both hands, he point his staff skyward

a spark of light, burning, rising then detonated midair

BOOM.

A thunderclap of pure magic split the map, coming along with Spectre's screech filled with resentment and hatred

His chest heaved. He stood tall, and for a moment, he looked not like an admin...

…but like a legend

For a moment

He was winning

For the first time, he was pushing that deity back

The fire crackled gently. Not in arrogance. Not in pride

But in relief

He muttered under his breath, almost laughing “They might actually make it out…”

He looks at Chance, 007n7 and the cultist almost reached the bug. The escape path. The future

Dusekkar gritted his teeth and pressed forward

"Just a bit more" he told himself

"Please fate...let me successfully protect them in my last seconds of living"

And the fire rose again

[You will die under my hand Matt Dusek...]

The Spectre had no body to wound. It's the map. And suddenly, the ground betrayed the mage. His footing collapsed. Spikes of map rose like teeth

“Not yet. Not now… don’t fade, not still…I’ve fought too long, I’ve bent my will…”

he muttered, staggering, staff held up like a broken shield

“Though I may fall, this light won’t die…I’ll burn you out… I’ll sear the sky…”

[YOU ARE WORTHLESS]

[YOU ARE NOTHING]

Reality collapsed around Dusekkar

And Dusekkar stood, body failing, soul screaming, but still standing

Still alive

Still resisting

He raised his staff once more, his lips parted, blood spilled from the corner of his mouth

"I bleed, I break, but I do not bend. You’ll find no fear, not in my end. So do your worst. Strip me of breath. But know my fire… outlives my death"

[SO BE IT]

-

Two Time’s body screamed for rest

But they ran

Toward the bug

Toward the only exit-

THMP

Their dagger

Gone. On the ground, glinting between destruction and light

Their heart sank

They turned

“…fuck it…”

They yanked free of Chance’s hand

“TWO TIME, GET BACK!” Chance screamed

But they didn’t hear it

All they saw was the dagger

Chance made his final decision, he smile as he push 007n7 gently towards the bug

“I’ll be fine; I’m sure lady luck is on my side today” Chance smile

The ex-exploiter could only let out a gasp before disappearing into the air

Then Chance turns toward Two Time and ran for them

As for Two Time, they don’t care anything about the surrounding, all they ever locked in on is their dagger

And they reached it

Cradled it to their chest

“There you are… I won’t leave you, my dear…”

The chaos howled around them

“COME ON!” Chance shouted, grabbing their arm

Then it happened

A low, thunderous rumble vibrated through the floor of Planet Voss. The corrupted terrain began to buckle. One of the immense, bone-white walls of the map, already cracking, suddenly gave way

It was collapsing

Straight toward them

Chance turned his head just in time to see the wall shatter from its moorings and begin its deadly fall. There was no time to react, he braced for impact, prepared himself for pain and darkness and the end…

-

“YOU. DON’T. TOUCH. THEM!”

-

But it didn’t come

Instead, there was a blur. A flash of blue. A powerful shove

Chance was thrown backward, tumbling onto the ground. Wind knocked from his lungs

THUD

He opened his eyes.

“No…”

Where Chance and Two Time had stood just seconds ago, now lay Dusekkar

Crushed

Pinned beneath the full weight of the wall, shards of corrupted geometry and glitching code embedding deep into his body. His limbs splayed, shattered. Flames still flickering, but they dimmed, flickering like the final breath of a candle

Two Time gasped beside Chance, frozen

“D-Divine pumpkin…” they whispered, voice cracking with horror

Chance stumbled forward, legs numb. He fell to his knees beside the admin, trembling hands reaching out as if to lift the impossible weight

“Dusekkar… no. Please-please stay with us. Please don’t…”

The shattered pumpkin head tilted just slightly. Even without a face, Chance knew. He could feel it

Dusekkar was smiling

From beneath the wreckage, a weak hand lifted his staff

With one final pulse of strength

WHOSS!

A wave of blue energy surged forth, grabbing both Chance and Two Time in a field of light

“You must go” came Dusekkar’s voice, no longer rhythmic, no longer strong. Just a whisper. Just… a goodbye

“Go, gambler and cultist… Escape… escape from this hell…”

And then they were gone.

Blasted through the bug. Saved. Hurled into safety

While Dusekkar

Dusekkar was left behind

Buried

Silent

The fires dimmed

And went out

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

Shedletsky stepped into Dusekkar’s cabin

The air was stale

Heavy

It hung like mist, suffocating the lungs. The smell of old parchment, faint ash, and steel drifted in his nostrils, yet nothing felt familiar. It wasn’t the cabin he remembered. It felt hollow now. Abandoned

His feet creaked against the wooden floor as he stepped in fully, but there was no response. Not a single sound, not even the hum of old servers or the faint tap of a command key. Not a flicker of a presence

He had known something was wrong the second an hour has passed, yet there had been no word from the group, no surprise visit from Chance

It wasn’t like them

It wasn’t like him

He scanned the room, each blink slower than the last. His body moved with hesitation, like it wanted to delay what he might find

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled shakily. Then clenched his jaw

Why hadn’t he insisted?

Why hadn’t he screamed?

Begged?

He could’ve done something

Should’ve done something

Builderman wouldn’t stopped him from joining the other team

But he didn’t

He stayed behind

Because he trusted Dusekkar

Dusekkar was the one person he could always trust. One of the most powerful admin. Withhold unimaginable power inside him. A powerful mage

And that was the most terrifying part of it all

Because if he hasn’t come back

Something went wrong

Extremely wrong

“Dammit…” Shedletsky whispered, and it barely made a sound “Dusekkar…”

He looked around the room again

Still empty

Still silent

Still-

No

Not entirely

There was something on the desk

A single envelope. Perfectly placed. Too perfectly

As though the person who left it knew exactly who would walk in

As though they had timed this moment precisely

He moved slowly toward it, like he was walking through a nightmare. The light from the window shifted, catching the corner of the envelope, illuminating the wax seal

Dusekkar’s symbol. A pumpkin head, smiling without any care in the world

“No…” he whispered again. His voice felt smaller now

He reached for it, but his fingers paused. Hovered

He didn’t want to know

Not really

Because once he read it…

It would be real

But he opened it anyway.

The seal cracked, brittle. The paper inside was old, rough, with faint creases from a trembling hand

He read

-

‘Dear friends,

The time has come. I can’t say much, but our team has made a plan. Of course. It’s risky, too risky to write out here. But I assure you, every other member will reach the bug safely. As for me… I cannot predict my fate. By the time you read this, I may have perished under The Spectre’s power. But at the very least, Chance, 007n7, and the cultist Two Time… they’ve escaped

That much I gave everything to ensure, I hope your path continues smoothly to victory. As for me… I have reached my end

Your friend,
Dusekkar ’

-

Shedletsky’s legs gave out. He sank to the floor like the gravity had multiplied, like the room itself had decided to swallow him

He didn’t scream

Not yet

The letter fell from his hands and landed on the floor like a feather, drifting silently down

It didn’t deserve silence

“WHY?” he cried out suddenly, voice cracking violently, shattering the calm like glass “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!”

He was trembling

His fists beat against the desk. Against the floor. Against himself

“You fucker, you knew! You knew you wouldn’t make it back!”

The tears came next. Not gentle. Not pretty

They fell

Flooding. Violent. Ugly

He bit down on his fist just to stifle the sobs, but they escaped anyway. Guttural and raw. He could feel them ripping up his throat, tearing past the walls he built, the mask he wore

He wasn’t okay

He would never be okay

He didn’t even realize he was running until he burst through the cabin door

He didn’t even remember choosing to run

The world around him blurred. Branches sliced at his arms, wind howled in his ears, but it was distant. Nothing existed but the pounding of his own heart, the ache in his lungs, the fire in his legs

And then

The screaming

Far off, but growing louder

No
No, no, please no

He reached the main cabin and slammed into the door, chest heaving

He didn’t want to open it

He had to

His hand shook so violently the knob slipped at first

Then

click

He stepped in, the light inside was low. Flickering. Almost dead

What he saw stopped him in place, the cabin was in shambles

In the center was a dispenser, hastily assembled. Around it

Builderman knelt in the center, clutching a figure. Rocking slowly

His head bowed. His hands trembling so violently it looked like they might fall apart. The man who had kept himself steady through every failure, every loss, every death

He was breaking

Right here. Right now

Taph was nowhere to be seen, Guest sat beside Noob, holding them close. Noob wailed. A child’s wail. Helpless. Endless. His sobs rattled the walls. The kind of crying that came from your bones, from your soul, from the place that could never heal once torn

Guest looked up

And Shedletsky saw it in his eyes

Confirmation.

His steps were uneven. Wooden. Forced. As though he had to move through time itself to reach the center

And then he saw the body

It was draped in Builderman’s arms like a collapsed monument

It had no head

But in its hands, rigid even in death, was a staff

Dusekkar’s staff

Still held tight

Still cautious

Even after everything.

Shedletsky’s breath left his lungs in a single, hollow exhale

He dropped to his knees

He tried to scream.

Nothing came

 

He tried to speak.

No words

 

Just silence

And then

A sound broke from his throat

Low at first

Then louder

A broken sob, twisting into a cry, a scream

He curled forward and pressed his forehead to the floor, blood soaking into his skin

“He’s gone… he’s really gone…” his voice cracked open

The grief burned

It didn’t dull

It scorched every nerve

There would be no healing

Only this…

Only loss

Noob’s voice joined him, shrieking now, collapsing into Guest’s arms

Builderman didn’t speak. He just held the body. Tighter. As if to pull Dusekkar back into life by force

And Guest whispered, voice so small it barely carried

“…Dusekkar… you always think about our benefits…”

His lips trembled

“…Have you ever once considered… what it would do to us… when you don’t come back…?”

But there was no answer

There never would be

Not from the corpse

Not from the deity that took him

Not from the silence that followed

Only a room full of echoes

And the weight of a sacrifice that left them in ruins

-

-

-

Notes:

6670 words
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author flipped a coin, heads then Dusekkar will get revived in the future chapters, tails then bro will stay 6 feet down the ground! Guess which side did he get!!! ^_^

Gang sorry for the delay, so like when author almost done with it, then my dad came in, he hates video game and author fear he might found out author's ao3 acc, found out what he writes and be disgusted bc I spend my writing skills on something other than study, so author panic and turns off, DID NOT SAVE and have to starts over again :,)

Chapter 20: He knows he found out

Summary:

"Ascertained" means found out, determined, or made certain, usually after checking, investigating, or verifying something

Notes:

HAPPY +6000 HITS AND 400 KUDOS IM SCREAMING IN JOY, MAMA IM FAMOUS, TYSM GANG I LOVE Y'ALL

 

EUGHHH OH LOOK HERE, Look WHO just come back after pathetically survive deadlines after deadlines, holy shat, school was terrible, author is on grade 11 and he wish his brain is big enough to absorb all the educations they're giving him

Author got a lil drained from rewrite chap 18 last time, so yeah, barely energy to write chap 19 until now :[
Anyways, if I have enough energy (aka my brain and fingers can physically and mentally fine enough), author will drop some scrapped ideas or designs of this story as a side treat for myself and y'all lololol

Chapter 19: He found out He knows

“Augh…”
One blink. Two. Three. Elliot groaned like someone had stepped on his soul. Every joint complained in stereo, his whole body feeling like it had been put through a marathon, then thrown in a washing machine, then fainted directly onto the floor

He shifted, very slowly, struggling to sit up like a pensioner in a life alert commercial, waiting for his vision to stop looking like bad static. Sunlight was stabbing through the curtains like it had a personal vendetta against him

Wait, sunlight? Had he really been unconscious long enough for the sun to get involved?

“Elliot, good, you’re awake…” Someone sat beside him, an arm sliding around his shoulders to hold him up. A cup of water appeared in front of his face, saintly hands offering salvation

Who was Elliot to refuse? He took it and drained the entire thing in one breath, probably looking like a camel after a desert trek. His sight finally decided to come back online, and he recognized the three familiar faces in the room

Cody was the one holding the cup, a relief-soaked smile tugging at his lips. The faint eye bags under his eyes were telling their own tragic tale, the boy had been keeping vigil like some overprotective house cat. Oh, look what Elliot had done to the poor thing…

Cody should’ve left you to rot
If only Cody knew what you’ve done
He would have done it

“You fainted on the way back home” Cody explained

“So Richard fished out your house key, and uh… we don’t know what to do with that guy over there though” He pointed toward a man sitting in a corner

Right

Him

007n7

Elliot spared a glance, a tiny, cautious one. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to run over and hug the guy for escaping, or to pretend he was a particularly ugly piece of furniture. This was, after all, the same man who couldn’t undo the hell he’d put Elliot’s pizzeria through

Elliot chose… to ignore

007n7 sat quietly on the floor, hands fidgeting. His iconic burger hat was gone, sacrificed in the Forsaken Realm in exchange for survival. When he looked at Elliot, it was brief, almost guilty, before his gaze fell back to the floor. Not a word came out. Pathetic. Coward

“Elliot! Elliot! Hello?”

He tore his eyes away from 007n7 and forced them back to Cody, flashing an apologetic smile

“O-oh! Right, sorry. Got carried away with my thoughts” he chuckled

“You gotta stop zoning out like that. You looked like you got possessed” Cody waved his arms dramatically, puffing his cheeks out in a pout, then quickly stopped and switched gears

“So, how do you feel right now? Any headache? Dizziness? O-o-or-”

Elliot hushed him mid-ramble

“Oh, I’m better than ever now, Cody! Trust me.”

Cody stared. Deadpan. His eyes scanned Elliot up and down

Heavy eye bags

A subtle twitch that screamed panic attack loading

The vibe of a raccoon who’d just discovered espresso

“…Yeah. Sure” Cody raised an eyebrow, clearly lying through his teeth

Elliot just chuckled. Oh, how bad could he look? Maybe a little dark under the eyes, nothing crazy. Right? Right??

“How long have I been out?” Elliot asked

“Uh… pretty…?”

“How long, Cody?”

“Dunno. It’s 6:00 a.m. right now”

Elliot jolted upright. Eyes wide

He’d been out that long?!

Wait

Yesterday was Sunday

Which meant-

His gaze snapped to the calendar. Horror bloomed across his face like a bad flower

“OH MY GOD!! THE PIZZERIA!”

He flung the blanket aside like it was a live snake, leaping to his feet, ready to make a mad dash to work

Only for Cody, moving with the speed of a hawk, to snatch him mid-sprint and shove him back down onto the couch

“No, Ell. You’re staying here. You fainted walking home, and I am not letting you collapse for the third time”

Elliot wriggled like a hooked fish. “But-”

“I already told the manager” Cody continued, patting his shoulder like he was scolding a particularly stubborn toddler

“and he agreed”

“Fine. At least let me get up and cook breakfast. I haven’t eaten anything yet” Elliot sagged

“No. You’re staying on the couch”

“But I’m hungry-”

“Stay on the couch!!”

“But the house isn’t cleaned-”

“Stay on the couch!!”

“…I haven’t eaten breakfast…”

“Stay on the- ok, that’s… a grey area…”

Finally, freed, Elliot trudged toward the kitchen with the reluctant dignity of a man being sent to his own execution. He snatched the apron mid-walk and threw it on

Honestly, he wasn’t even hungry anymore. But with Cody and, uh 007n7 here, the last thing he wanted was to get caught looking frail

The kitchen was already warm, sunlight catching on dust motes drifting lazily. His hair uncombed, chaotic was sticking up in at least seven different compass directions. He plonked the mixing bowl down on the counter with the ceremonial thud of a man who took breakfast far too seriously… or at least wanted everyone to think so

From the living room, Cody called out, “If you pass out while flipping a pancake, I’m telling everyone at work you died doing it!”

Elliot rolled his eyes, cracked an egg into the bowl, and muttered “Worth it”

-

-

-

Flour floated through the air like lazy snow, drifting and swirling every time Elliot whisked the batter. It clung to his forearms, his apron, even a streak across his cheek he hadn’t noticed yet. The whisk moved at a blur, each rotation fast enough that, if anyone walked in, they might assume he was training for some underground batter-whipping competition

The pan hissed when he poured the first ladleful. Golden circles bloomed, edges crackling just enough to make Elliot’s chest unclench a fraction. He leaned in, eyes narrowing like he could intimidate the pancake into cooking faster. The smell wrapped around him sweet, buttery, a faint nutty undertone, almost enough to make him forget that there was a certain two someone lurking in his kitchen. Almost

Flip time. The spatula slid under the pancake like a conspirator. Elliot gave it a confident flick; the kind of flick you only see in cooking shows right before the host makes eye contact with the camera. The pancake landed neatly, though it gave a tiny, uncertain wobble before settling. Steam rose in gentle curls

By the time the stack hit three high, Elliot was humming, some random tune with no name, the kind you hum only when your hands are busy and your brain is trying to not think about anything else. He slid the plate onto the table with an unnecessary flourish, like he was presenting a birthday cake to royalty

They weren’t perfect. One was slightly lopsided. One had a dark spot. But syrup forgave all sins

“Alright-” he started, turning, only to stop dead

Two figures stood next to him

Cody wide-eyed, expectant

And, of course, 007n7

“I haven’t eaten anything yet…” Cody’s voice was tragically pitiful, the kind of tone you’d hear from someone who just watched you throw their lunch in the trash

007n7 said nothing. He just stared, first at the pancakes, then at Cody, then at Elliot. It wasn’t an ordinary look. It was the kind of silent, socially uncomfortable hovering you’d expect from a guy who wasn’t entirely sure how he got here but decided to stand very still until someone told him otherwise

“Can we have some?” Cody asked, clasping his hands like a Victorian orphan “This guy hasn’t eaten either”

Elliot’s first instinct was to say no. But Cody had carried him home when he fainted. Cody had probably stayed up worrying. Wouldn’t refusing be… rude?

He sighed and nodded. Fine. Pancakes for Cody. And apparently, pancakes for the awkward someone here in the corner

Cody grinned so wide it was almost alarming. He grabbed 007n7 by the shoulders and shook him in celebration like they’d just won a sports championship. 007n7 barely reacted, he just blinked slowly, as if waiting for Cody to stop so he could go back to standing in one place

Elliot turned back to the stove, refilling the pan. The hiss returned, warm and soft. He kept his gaze fixed on it, as though if he looked anywhere else for too long, something would go wrong

“Where’s Richard?” Elliot asked as he flipped the pancake. This one made a faint deflated balloon sound, which pulled a small smirk from him “Did he go home?”

“Oh! He said he wants to explore around your house. Promised not to touch private stuff, so no worries!” Cody said brightly

The words didn’t land lightly

They dropped into Elliot’s brain like an iron safe

“…What?” His tone sharpened

“Richard WHAT?! Where is he?!”

Click

“I’m here” The voice came from behind. It was short, flat, and cold enough to slice the air

Elliot turned. Richard stood in the doorway from the hall, his face pale and stiff. His eyes locked on Elliot’s, unreadable, but heavy

Elliot knew immediately

He knows

Oh god

He knows

Richard’s stare wasn’t loud, but it screamed all the same

“Elliot? Hello? The pancakes”

No no no no no

You idiot. You should’ve been careful

Richard’s been keeping an eye on you for a while now, always close, always watching

“Elliot? I think the pancake’s burning”

You should’ve had a plan for this

You should’ve predicted this

“Elliot?”

God. You fucked up

You fucked up so badly

“ELLIOT!”

Cody grabbed his shoulders and shook him, snapping him back into the room

The pancake was black

Not just “a little overdone” this was charcoal briquette territory

The smoke alarm gave a lazy beep. 007n7 moved in one swift, silent motion, shoving Elliot aside, flicking the stove off, and smothering the flames like he’d done it before

“E-Elliot, are you o-okay?” 007n7’s voice was soft, almost apologetic

Elliot didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to the floor. All he could think about was Richard’s pale face

Richard knew

The secret Elliot had buried deep enough to rot, dug up, exposed, dangerous

“…I’ll just start over” he mumbled. His voice sounded mechanical, like it had been assembled from spare parts. He reached for the bowl again

“Hey- maybe you should rest” Cody said, squeezing his shoulder “I shouldn’t have asked you to do so much” His tone was warm, but in Elliot’s head, the words sharpened to glass

First, you let someone find out your secret

Now you can’t even make pancakes

Pathetic

Shut up

Friends don’t put each other in danger. Friends don’t fail simple requests

SHUT UP

“I’m… fine, Cody” Elliot said with a tight chuckle, forcing the whisk into motion “Just… caught myself lacking a little”

The batter swirled. Cody went to set the table, chattering about syrup. 007n7 hovered, occasionally glancing toward him, expression unreadable

But over their voices, Elliot could still feel it, Richard’s eyes, fixed on him from the far end of the kitchen

Silent. Heavy

Knowing

The smell of flour and butter was still in the air, but for Elliot, it might as well have been smoke

-

-

The kitchen was alive in the worst possible way

Everything moved and made noise, but nothing blended; it stacked. The hiss of the cooling pan. The faint, irregular drip from the faucet into the sink. The low hum of the refrigerator vibrating through the tile and up into his feet. The distant tick of the wall clock, each second a needle tapping the inside of his skull. The scrape of a fork over porcelain, followed by syrup falling in slow, viscous threads

Each sound didn’t just exist, it arrived. Separately. Purposefully. Like they were taking turns to press into Elliot’s head, each one a fresh reminder that the room was too full, too warm, too close

Cody sat at the table, utterly at ease, working methodically through a tower of pancakes that looked more architectural than edible. He cut them into precise cubes, each piece identical to the last, dragging them through a gleaming pool of syrup before lifting them to his mouth. He chewed without hurry, humming a shapeless tune that went nowhere. The hum didn’t match the rhythm of his bites, and the lack of pattern made Elliot’s teeth itch

It was harmless, just Cody being Cody, but in Elliot’s ears, every moist chew, every subtle swallow, every tiny scrape of fork tine sounded like it was happening right at the edge of his jaw

He turned from the sink, the dishes hanging slack from his hand. The air seemed to thicken mid-motion

Richard was looking at him

Not glancing. Not curious

Looking

It wasn’t even a stare so much as a holding, like Richard had put something between them that Elliot couldn’t move past. The air in that line of sight felt taut, the moment before a fuse burns down to nothing

No

Not now

Not here

The kitchen lights seemed suddenly too bright, flattening shadows into harsh shapes. The lingering warmth from the stove clung to Elliot’s skin, heavy and damp. The smell of the pancakes, sweet, golden, comforting just minutes ago, now sat lodged at the back of his throat, too thick, too sticky, like breathing syrup

Richard didn’t move. His left hand rested on the counter, palm down, fingers splayed like he needed to steady himself. His right arm hung at his side, loose but with a wrong kind of stillness, as if it was waiting for permission to act. That stillness said more than any movement could. And his gaze… his gaze was absolute. Not flickering. Not softening. Not checking the rest of the room

Just him

The towel in Elliot’s grip creased sharply as his fingers tightened, the terrycloth biting faint lines into his palm. He focused on that small, localized sting, as if pain could be an anchor in a room that was suddenly unmoored

Somewhere off to the side, 007n7 sat half-turned in his chair, casting a glance toward him. It was unreadable, a momentary flick of attention before he went still again. Elliot caught it, but it barely registered; everything in his vision tunneled down to Richard

Cody’s fork clinked against the plate, dragging through the syrup in a sound that seemed far too sharp for how soft it should’ve been. The syrup itself stretched in a long, glistening thread before snapping

Richard’s face was set, but not in anger. His jaw wasn’t tight. His brow wasn’t furrowed. The weight wasn’t in his muscles; it was in the quiet. An intentional quiet. A waiting quiet

Elliot’s breaths came small, shallow, measured, as if inhaling too much at once might break something between them

The sounds in the room layered higher, tighter: the lazy, uneven drip from the faucet; the fridge’s low, bone-deep hum; the faint groan of the chair under Cody’s shifting weight. It wasn’t background noise anymore; it was a wall. Thick. Windowless. Pressing them in together with no exit

And still, Richard didn’t blink

The seconds stretched, pulling long enough to ache. Elliot could feel each one in his body: his heartbeat in his fingertips, in the hollow of his throat, in the back of his eyes. The air wasn’t still, it pressed, slow and deliberate, against his ribs

The rest of the kitchen seemed to fade in brightness until only Richard’s face was in focus, every detail sharp and inescapable

And neither of them looked away

-

“Wow, Elliot! Those pancakes were delicious!!” Cody beamed, stuffing the last bite into his mouth

Elliot barely had time to thank him before Cody grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder with practiced ease

“Well, I still got work to do! Gotta get to the pizzeria now, byee!!” he chirped, waving as he disappeared out the door, his steps light and carefree

And just like that, Elliot was left standing in the kitchen with the last two people he wanted to be alone with right now

On one side, there was 007n7, somehow also escaped, just like him. The problem? Their shared past was... not something Elliot could just laugh about over jokes. He needed time, distance, and maybe divine intervention before he could even think about a proper conversation

On the other side stood Richard, who had only recently learned what Elliot had been up to lately. Who finally knew why Elliot stayed home every chance he got. And judging by Richard’s expression, Elliot suspected the man had already connected far too many dots

Yup

Elliot could practically see his own soul grinning, smug and knowing his doom was sealed

Still, he clung to a shred of courage “Don’t you… have work to do at the pizzeria?” he asked Richard, the words tasting like a gamble he’d regret later

Richard’s answer was immediate, sharp “I volunteered to watch over you. Took the day off”

His tone was a messy cocktail of emotions Elliot couldn’t quite name. Then Elliot’s gaze shifted to 007n7, who was currently fidgeting with his fingers like they were the most fascinating objects in the room

“And you” Elliot said, voice edged “why are you still in my house?”

“I-I… have things to talk to you about, b-but… it’s hard to say here. With y-your fri-end? Around…” 007n7 stammered

Elliot didn’t bother responding. He looked away, heart thudding

“Now Elliot-”

“YEAH I really NEED to clean my house HA. HA. HA” Elliot blurted, slicing through Richard’s words like a panicked knife. He bolted toward the bathroom before anyone could stop him

His brain was a mess. His future was a mess. He was a mess

Forget regretting this later

He was already regretting it now

If it were possible, he’d teleport himself far away and never look back. But the thought of leaving those two alone in the same space? Yeah… no. Not happening

Oh god, Ell. What have you done?

So he made a decision, flimsy as it was. Chores. Yes. He’d bury himself in chores. Cleaning kept the hands busy, the mind distracted, and most importantly, gave him an excuse not to talk to either of them

Grabbing a rag, he set to scrubbing his already spotless kitchen like it was a biohazard zone. He’d been “slacking lately” he told himself, ignoring the absurdity. Surely the cabinets needed a deep clean, right?

Don’t say anything

Don’t look at them

Don’t give them any reason to start another conversation

He’d already caused enough damage.

The silence in the house was so heavy that the hum of the fridge sounded deafening

Richard broke the silence with a steady voice from the couch, the kind that didn’t sound angry yet, but promised it could be

“So… you gonna tell me what those are in your bedroom?”

From the kitchen, Elliot didn’t turn around. His shoulders stayed rigid, his hand moving in quick, pointless circles over the counter

“It’s just some made-up lore for a self-insert OC” he said too quickly. The words carried a faint tremor he couldn’t fully swallow

He kept his eyes on the rag in his hand like it was the only thing keeping him anchored

“That’s not what 007n7 said”

Elliot froze mid-wipe

In the corner, 007n7 had shrunk into himself so far it was like he was trying to seep into the wall. His voice was a strained whisper

“I… didn’t mean for it to sound like-”

The rag slipped from Elliot’s hand, knocking over the salt shaker. It rolled across the counter, clinked against the edge, and dropped to the floor with a hollow, too-loud clatter

“Kitchen’s a mess” Elliot muttered, crouching fast to retrieve it before either of them could read his face

Richard’s voice sharpened, cutting through the space

“You’ve been avoiding me”

“I’ve been cleaning” Elliot corrected, standing up too quickly. The trash can rattled dangerously against his leg “Big difference”

“So? Nothing you wanna get off your chest?” Richard leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving him

Elliot tossed the rag onto the counter and reached for the broom “Not unless you’ve started doing confessionals, Father Richard”

007n7 tried again, tentative and raw

“Elliot, I-”

“Don’t” Elliot’s back stayed to him. He swept too hard, the bristles scraping over the same patch of tile again and again until dust kicked up around his ankles.
He could feel both their eyes on him

Forget about them. Pretend they’re just air. You’re alone

You can deal with these things alone. You’ll figure it out

Richard won’t get dragged into this. 007n7 can be dealt with later

His grip on the broom tightened until his knuckles ached. Inhale. Exhale. Keep sweeping.
Focus on the sound. The rhythm. That’s all you need

Everything will be fine. The mess can be erased. The order can be restored. All of it can go back-

“You’ve been sweeping that same spot for ten minutes” Richard said

Elliot straightened abruptly, abandoning the broom for a pair of shoes by the door. He grabbed them both, only for one to slip and thud down the hallway

“Guess that one’s going to storage” he said flatly, already moving

“You know” Richard called after him “the more you dodge, the more suspicious you look”

Elliot ignored him, ducking into the laundry room with a bundle of socks that wasn’t even dirty. He dropped them into the washer, hesitated, then noticed it was already running

“Right. Second load later” he muttered, and shut the lid with a sharp bang

“Laundry’s not gonna save you”

“It’s helping so far” He brushed past Richard with a pile of unopened mail

The envelopes slid from his hands mid-step, fanning across the floor

007n7 moved to help, but Elliot snatched them up too quickly, cramming half into a drawer without looking and shoving the rest into the fridge like they might rot if left out too long

Richard’s arms folded across his chest, jaw set. “This isn’t over”

“It’s over for today” Elliot slammed the fridge shut. The sound echoed in the hot, still air

The heat had been creeping in for hours. It sat heavy now, pressing against his skin until every breath felt slow and sticky. He grabbed the remote from the counter and clicked the air conditioner on

The machine hummed to life, but the air stayed thick

“I didn’t mean for things to-” 007n7’s voice was soft, soaked in guilt

Elliot let out a single laugh, sharp and humorless, without looking at him

“Yeah, well. Here we are”

The hum of the air conditioner filled the room, but the heat didn’t leave. It just sat there with them, waiting

Elliot fled from the living room like a man chased, burying himself in the next chore he could find, then another, and another still. If he kept moving, if his hands stayed busy, maybe the questions wouldn’t catch up

But we all know, no matter how far you dodge, one day the blow still lands. No matter how tight you hold a secret, one day someone pries it open. And for Elliot, fate was never gentle, and it certainly wasn’t on his side today

He was back in the kitchen now, sleeves shoved up past his elbows, hunched over the table with a rag. The surface was already spotless, but he scoured it anyway as though if he pressed hard enough, it might shine bright enough to blind the world, or reflect his face so cleanly that it showed nothing at all

From the counters behind him, Richard’s voice cut through, low but deliberate

“I already know, Elliot. I just want you to tell me why”

Elliot didn’t lift his head

“You’re imagining things. Those are not real”

“No” Richard stepped forward, each footfall a sharp note against the tile

“I’ve got pieces. Clues. Enough to know what you’ve gotten yourself into, and it’s not good. But I don’t have you telling me what the hell you’re thinking”

From the corner, 007n7’s eyes darted between them like a man watching a match sway over an open fuse

“Maybe now’s not-”

“This is now” Richard’s voice cracked through the room like a whip, his gaze locked onto Elliot

“It’s been ‘not now’ every fucking time I’ve tried to talk to you”

Elliot’s movements slowed, the rag dragging a lazy, stalling line across the table

“Maybe because you shouldn’t be involved”

Richard’s voice sharpened

“You say that like I have a choice. You think I can just stand here knowing you’re” He stopped, jaw tightening until the words had to fight their way out “knowing you’re doing something that could get you hurt?”

Elliot turned at last, rag still in hand, his expression carved from stubborn stone

“It’s not your problem”

Richard closed the distance between them, each step loud in the thick air.

“It IS my problem when it’s going to get you killed. Or tormented. Or worse”

Elliot’s jaw flexed, eyes hard as glass

“Then stop making it yours”

In the corner, 007n7 shifted, guilt curling through his posture

“E-Elliot, maybe if you just-”

“Don’t” Elliot’s voice snapped through the air like a door slamming, his eyes never leaving Richard’s

Richard’s tone dropped, low and dangerous now

“You think pushing me away is gonna save me from whatever this is? You’re wrong. All it’s gonna do is make me watch it happen without being able to stop it”

Elliot didn’t blink

“Then watch. And cry from a distance. I’d rather you hate me than get pulled into this”

Something flickered in Richard’s eyes, hurt, frustration, a heavier, unspoken fear

“You think I’d let you burn alone?”

“That’s exactly why I can’t let you foolishly fall just like me”

The room went silent, heavy enough to press on their ribs. 007n7’s hand clenched until his knuckles turned bone-white, but he stayed silent, as if his voice might tip the balance toward something irreversible

Finally, Richard broke first. A sharp exhale. A shake of the head

“Fine. Keep your damn secret. But I’m not just standing by”

He turned and left, the slam of the front door not deafening, but loud enough to rattle through the house like a warning shot

Elliot faced the table again, rag moving in rough circles over a surface that could have been glass

Behind him, 007n7’s voice came small, almost fragile

“You could’ve told him something. At least let him know-”

“I don’t think we should talk right now”

007n7’s mouth stayed open for a moment, then shut. The sound of the rag dragging across the wood was the only thing left

-

-

-

8:00 p.m.

Elliot groaned under his breath, thumb hovering over the glowing screen

A string of texts from Samantha stared back at him:

[why was Richard stomping back home just now??]

[he looked pissed]

[what did you two do???]

He didn’t answer

Left her on seen

If he replied, she’d start prying. And if she pried, she’d get pulled in. He wasn’t risking Samantha next

Richard was already in danger, because of him

The balcony’s night air bit into his skin, sharp and cold enough to numb his fingers, but Elliot stayed put, elbows hooked over the railing, breath fogging faintly in the chill. The low hum of the neighborhood below, the occasional rumble of a motorbike, muffled laughter from a block away, felt safer than the silence inside

Until the glass door slid open

Footsteps joined him in the night

He didn’t look. Didn’t have to

“Something you need?” His voice was low, almost bored, but the grip of his hands on the railing said otherwise

“No. Just… couldn’t sleep”

007n7 lingered a step back, shoulders hunched, hands buried deep in his pockets. The truth was, after being gone for so long, kidnapped by The Spectre, he had nowhere else to go. Unpaid rent, no job, no bed. Elliot had let him crash here, temporarily

“Mm” Elliot’s eyes stayed fixed on the sky, where stars fought to shine through the neighborhood

“…About your friend”

“Richard?”

“Y-Yeah. Him. And maybe… everyone”

Elliot said nothing

007n7 hesitated, the words heavy on his tongue, but pushed them out anyway

“Why do you keep lying to them? Richard told me you’ve been… coaxing him away, keeping him from finding out. All before I showed up here” His voice trembled, but not from the cold

“Y-You know you can’t do this alone, right? At least… ask someone like the admins for help-”

“I did ask Mrs. Brighteyes for help. Once I figure out how to finally hold the Banhammer, I’ll-”

“No. Not that”

It was the first time 007n7 had cut him off

“She only aids you. Or… maybe you only let her aid you. You just take what you need from her, but you don’t actually let her help. And when you’ve gotten what you wanted… you push her back. Into your ‘safe zone’” His words came quicker now, almost desperate

“You’re not protecting them…you’re isolating yourself”

Elliot’s head snapped toward him. His expression was unreadable, caught between cold and fragile

“You know how dangerous the Spectre is, right?” His voice shook now, an edge of something raw beneath it “You know how pathetic and weak we are against it”

In the pale light, 007n7 saw it, the faint tremor in Elliot’s hands, the tension in his shoulders like coiled wire. His eyes were bright with anxiety, his whole frame wound so tight it looked like one wrong touch could shatter him into pieces

And God, 007n7 wanted to close the space between them, wanted to give him the kind of hug that says you don’t have to do this alone

But their history… their damage… made that impossible

Elliot drew in a long, unsteady breath

“You think I’d let them throw themselves into something they can’t undo? Something they can’t make it out alive?!” His voice rose, splintering the night air

“I-I-”

007n7 didn’t move away this time. He stayed still, letting Elliot’s words batter him, letting himself listen

“I must lie. Coat them with lies. Keep them safe from this cruel experience” Elliot’s voice cracked, rasping in his throat

“I don’t care if I have to die with those lies still in my mouth, as long as they live”

He swallowed hard, forcing the words through the lump in his throat

“I’d rather they hate me, watch me burn from a distance… than follow me into the cold, cruel fate waiting for anyone who digs too deep”

Silence stretched between them, carrying only the faint buzz of a streetlamp below

“…I’m sorry” 007n7 whispered.

Elliot didn’t look at him

God, say something else, 7n7

Do you live just to say “sorry”?

“Don’t” Elliot’s interruption was quiet, almost tender in tone, but carried the sting of something raw

“If you’re here to say sorry like every other time, just… go back to the couch and sleep. Save us both the trouble”

“I’m not-” 007n7 stopped himself, swallowed, his breath misting faintly in the cold air

“I’m not asking you to forget what I did. I’m just… sorry. I don’t think I ever said it properly before”

Elliot’s shoulders drew tight, like the muscles in his back were locking shut

“I already forgive you, Seven. Leave me alone”

“That wasn’t what I-” He exhaled hard “I thought you’d need some help…”

“I don’t” Elliot’s reply was flat as stone

007n7’s gaze sank to the floor “…I’m sorry-”

“I forgave you already. Long ago” Elliot cut in again, voice steady but frayed at the edges “Not because you deserve it. But because I deserve peace, so please leave me alone”

The words hit heavier than shouting. Even the wind seemed to hesitate before slipping between them

“…If you ever need anything” 007n7 said finally, so softly the hum of a passing car almost drowned it out “I-I’ll be there. I owe you that much…”

Elliot didn’t answer. Didn’t even turn his head as 007n7 shifted, retreating to the door

The glass slid shut with a muted click, and still Elliot stayed where he was, elbows on the railing, eyes on the sky. The moonlight above blurred until it shimmered into something he refused to let spill over

He says he forgives Seven so he can free himself

Yet

The shackles still hold. Invisible, but unmovable

How pathetic

Through the reflection in the glass, he caught the last glimpse of 007n7 disappearing from sight. His chest felt too tight

With a sigh, Elliot tugged a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket, flipped it open, and shook one loose. The lighter clicked in his hand

“Maybe one more” he murmured “Again”

The flame bloomed, and the cold night air seemed to lean in closer

-

-

-

[You all won't escape, I will make sure of it]

Notes:

5459 words
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Damn, bad news gang
Since school started, author have less time to write sadly, I'm very sorry since from now on, every chapters will took about 2-3 weeks to update, author have schools and other stuffs so yeah!
also here's a side story for ya ^_^
*see a post, comment on it and gets creative bc of one comment reply back to author, suggest him to make an Azuretime fic*
Author: "heehe, I'm gonna and should make an Azuretime oneshot muehee-"
*Then author turns toward the Azure silly fanfic, 1x1x1x1 wip drawing and 2 more fanfics in mind, ALL WIP AND BARELY CLOSE TO DONE*
Author:....yeah maybe another time... *Proceed to be unproductive and play Phighting*

Chapter 21: Self-sabotage

Summary:

[I feel like I don't wanna put another meaning here, kinda unnecessary since probably both you guys and author himself wouldn't even spare a glance at the summary, i'll put one if it's necessary]

Notes:

Come here children, papa just come back from buying milk and here to feed y'all
Sorry for disappear so long lololol, school got author and he has fallen ill currently, he can't stop coughing like a smoker (don't be like Elliot, you'll cough a lot like author) :[

I'm currently hiding from being caught writing fics & eating a sandwich (yes, author is a fatass, complain all you want, he's just a 48kg lil growing boy, that's very awesome of him, please give him compliment bc his ego suddenly rise)

Chapter 20: Self-sabotage

Silence

Absolute silence

The kind of silence that doesn’t just sit in the room, it judges you. Every tick of the clock crawled under Elliot’s skin like it was trying to burrow into his skull and live there rent-free

Across the desk, Jose’s dead-eyed stare pierced through him. It was the kind of look that said ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed… and also severely underpaid for this nonsense’

Jose sat slouched in his chair, pen tapping against the desk so violently it looked like the pen might file an complaint. Meanwhile, Elliot sheepishly slid into the seat opposite, twenty minutes late, plus- oh yeah, about three weeks overdue for therapy sessions. Details

Apparently, life had been kicking Elliot’s ass in seventeen creative new ways, and ‘showing up to therapy on time’ hadn’t exactly made the priority list. Not when self-destruction was running an all-you-can-eat buffet inside his brain. Still, he told himself: Nah, Elliot Builder doesn’t crash out. Elliot Builder is locked in. He’s fine

...He was not fine

If you’re wondering why Jose looked like he was reconsidering all his life choices, well, turns out Elliot had been ghosting his therapist. Not once. Not twice. Try THREE. WHOLE. FUCKING. WEEKS. Honestly, Elliot getting cooked right now for sure

“Do you think therapy is something you can just... crash into whenever the mood strikes you?” Jose finally said, arms folded, voice dripping with exhaustion

“You think unresolved trauma respects your ‘busy schedule’?”

Elliot flinched, like a puppy caught chewing the couch

“Sorry…”

“Sorry?” Jose’s tone spiked “Sorry won’t fix your coping mechanisms! What are you gonna do? Build a house out of apologies?”

Elliot squinted, tilting his head “...Would that work though?”

Jose froze. His pen stopped tapping. For a second, he looked like he might launch himself through the nearest window just to escape this conversation. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in deeply, like a monk who had sworn an oath never to strangle his clients no matter how badly they deserved it

Finally, in the calmest, fakest-professional voice Elliot had ever heard, Jose said

“Alright. Let’s begin. Tell me, Elliot… how have you been handling stress lately?”

“It’s been… bad. I’ve been stressed. Really stressed” Elliot muttered, his hands fidgeting restlessly in his lap like they were searching for an escape hatch

Jose’s gaze softened for a heartbeat, just a flicker of empathy until his eyes caught something. A crumpled, half-empty pack of cigarettes peeking from Elliot’s pocket. His face went pale, then darkened with fury

“Elliot. Don’t tell me-”

Elliot froze. Maybe lying would make things easier. But Jose was already connecting the dots, the man probably holds the best record in dot-connecting. He swallowed

“…It helps. A little. Just… for a while”

“LITTLE?!” Jose nearly snapped his clipboard in half “That’s not little, Elliot, that’s you writing a love letter to lung cancer!”

Elliot shrank into the chair, shoulders curling in “I-I just needed something, okay? Everything feels like it’s pressing down on me. I can’t sleep. My chest feels tight all the time. Cigarettes make it…pause, even just for a few minutes”

The air went still. Too still. Jose pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled so deeply it sounded like he was summoning every monk from every monastery to lend him patience. Then he leaned forward

“Listen to me carefully. I get it, you want the stress to stop. But if you keep this up, the only pause you’re getting is when your lungs permanently tap out”

Elliot rubbed his arm, eyes glued to the floor “I know. I hate it. But I can’t stop right now”

Jose slammed his palms on the desk. The sound cracked like a gunshot, but he quickly caught himself, inhaling again, forcing his voice back to something almost calm

“Okay. Fine. Baby steps. We won’t do the ‘quit-forever-today’ thing.” He paused. His eye twitched. Then, snapping again, he jabbed a finger toward Elliot

“But if I ever, EVER catch you romantically staring at a cigarette like it’s your soulmate, I will personally wrestle it out of your hands and punt it into traffic. Got it?”

Despite himself, Elliot let out a weak laugh “…You’re insane.”

“No. I’m invested” Jose corrected, sitting back “Invested in making sure you don’t end up as Example A in a medical textbook”

Then silence hit the room like a pill swallowed wrong. Too heavy. Too suffocating. The kind that only ramped Elliot’s nerves higher, until his chest felt like it might split open

Dr. Jose (wow, fancy title, clearly the author’s budget for him increased since last chapters, hand claps for author please, thank you) studied Elliot quietly, then finally broke the silence

“Elliot” he said gently

“you look like someone shoved you into a washing machine, hit spin cycle, then forgot about you for a week”

Elliot huffed a small laugh, shaking his head “I’m fine…”

“Nope. Don’t play that card with me” Jose’s finger wagged like a warning siren

“You don’t look ‘fine’ You look like fine got mugged, run over by a truck, and buried in the desert”

Elliot stayed quiet. His hands trembled faintly in his lap

Jose set his clipboard aside with a sigh that could have powered a wind farm. His voice softened again, pleading this time

“Talk to me, man. What’s going on? You’ve been missing sessions, you’re smoking like a chimney, and you look… tired. Like you’re hauling a backpack full of bricks everywhere you go”

Elliot swallowed hard. His throat burned like the words were clawing to stay inside

“…It’s nothing. Just stress. If I… if I talk about it, people could get hurt”

Jose frowned “People? Which people?”

“My friends. My family” Elliot’s knee bounced faster, like it might drill a hole through the floor. His voice dropped to a whisper

“I can’t let them know. If they find out the truth… if they even get close…” He trailed off, biting his lip until he tasted iron

Jose shook his head, groaning under his breath before catching himself. He chose his words carefully, even though irritation leaked through the cracks

“Elliot, remember what I told you in our first session? Keeping everything inside doesn’t protect them, it just strangles you. And from where I’m sitting, you’re already halfway to suffocating”

Elliot’s eyes shimmered, but he looked away. His voice cracked

“Sometimes… I think it’d be easier if I wasn’t here at all”

His hands shook openly now

“…What if I break them by doing that?”

Jose leaned forward, eyes sharp “Elliot, right now you’re breaking yourself. And if you go? You’ll break them anyway, only worse. You want to protect them? Then don’t disappear on them. Don’t carry this until it kills you”

The words slammed into Elliot’s chest, his breath catching, throat tight. He shook his head, whispering

“Sometimes I think… maybe it’d be easier if I just…”

He stopped. But the weight of the unfinished sentence flooded the room like poison

Jose leaned forward sharply, voice firm but shaking at the edges

“No. Don’t you finish that sentence. I know where it’s going, and I won’t let you sit here pretending dying is some kind of clean solution”

Elliot flinched, shame burning on his face. He wanted to vanish into the floor

Jose dragged a hand down his face, muttering under his breath like a man reciting a bible

“Professional tone, Jose. Professional tone…”

He snapped upright, jabbing a finger at Elliot.

“But listen to me, dumbass, if you die, I swear to God I’ll hunt your ghost down, slap it hard, drag it across the afterlife, and haul it back here just so we can finish your next session”

A startled laugh burst from Elliot, slipping out despite the tears threatening to spill

“…You’re so dramatic”

“Dramatic? No” Jose shot back instantly

“Dedicated. Dedicated to keeping your sorry ass alive. If I have to crack open that peanut-sized brain of yours and stuff a post-it inside that says ‘Ask for help, idiot’, I will. You’re not winning this argument, kid”

Elliot sniffled, rubbing his sleeve across his face

“…I don’t know if I can talk to them. I don’t even know what to say”

“Start small” Jose said, his voice firm but gentler now “Tell them you’re tired. Tell them you feel heavy. Tell them you need company. You don’t have to unload the secret. Just stop locking yourself in the dark and pretending you like it there”

The silence between them grew thick, fragile. Elliot shifted, shoulders trembling

“…You think they’d… stay? Even if I can’t explain everything?”

Jose smiled then, soft, human, nothing like the sharp-edged therapist tone from before. He leaned in and set a hand on Elliot’s shoulder, steady and grounding
“If they’re worth calling your friends, yes. They’ll stay. And if they don’t? Then screw’em. I’ll stay”

Something cracked inside Elliot. A wet laugh ripped free, collapsing into a sob. He buried his face in his hands, body shaking like he might come apart. Jose didn’t push. He just sat there, still as stone, letting Elliot bleed the storm out into silence

When the clock finally betrayed them, Elliot rose slowly. Drained. But lighter, like a man wrung out. He hesitated, then extended a fist

Jose blinked, then grinned wide, bumping it.
“Don’t miss next week, Elliot. Or I’ll spam-call you until your phone battery dies. And then I’ll show up at your house with a megaphone”

Elliot let out a weak laugh, shaky, but real “Later, doc”

“Later, Elliot”

Oh, Elliot

How precious. How pathetic.

Maybe someday you’ll accept help

But not today

Jose poured himself out just to drag you a single inch forward, and you smiled like you meant it

You played the part so well. You fooled him with your act. And wors

you fooled yourself

How cute

And how ugly

-

-

-

-

Walking back to the pizzeria

Of course

Elliot still had work to do. After all, he’d already taken a ‘day off for stress-free relaxation’ which was a complete lie. Life pulled a big fat sike on him and Elliot DID NOT appreciate it. But fine. Whatever. Back to the dear old pizzeria, his beloved workplace

Surely things wouldn’t be that chaotic without him, right?

...Hello?

Right?

RIGHT?!

“ELLIOT!! GUYS, ELL IS HERE!!!”

The shout nearly ruptured his eardrums. It was Luke, standing in the boxing room like a man who’d just spotted salvation. Wait. Pause. Why the hell was Luke there? He was supposed to be in the kitchen. You know, cooking? Not… loitering in the boxing room like a lost child

“Luke? Why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be in the kitchen, baking pizzas?” Elliot raised an eyebrow

Luke just grinned sheepishly, like a kid who got caught drawing on the walls in crayon

Elliot narrowed his eyes and scanned the surroundings

Okay, the manager’s office door, still intact. No signs of it being broken down, duct-taped, and written off by insurance again. Good start

The boxing station, clean, orderly. Almost suspiciously so…

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t that bad

Maybe he was overthinking

There’s no way it could-

…

SIKE

The moment Elliot stormed into the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of absolute eyes burning sight

Burnt pizza. Dough that looked like… what was that? A deformed human? A crime scene? Something the FBI should investigate?

The air smelled like despair and tomato sauce

Samantha was sprawled flat on the floor, face down, looking like she had spiritually ascended and left her body behind. Her chef hat was clutched weakly in her hand

Richard…

Dear Richard…

was hunched over his phone, reading “How to Tell if Pizza is Done For Idiots” from a cooking blog. The screen literally read ‘Step 1: Look at it. Step 2: If it’s burning, it’s done’ And somehow he STILL looked confused

Meanwhile, Sean was sprinting in and out of the kitchen, juggling cashier duty and kitchen chaos like a man possessed. He was yelling orders to customers and also yelling at Richard at the same time. Multitasking, but in the worst possible way

“Oh…” Elliot whispered, wide-eyed

“Oh…” His chest tightened

“Oh sweet mother of-”

BLAPT

(ok idk how it would sound, author is sab)

A flaming pizza exploded in the oven, sending Richard ducking and Samantha groaning louder from the floor

And that’s when Elliot realized

He wasn’t walking back into his workplace

He was walking straight into Hell’s clown office

Elliot could only smile. A thin, brittle smile plastered right across his face as if that alone could keep his sanity glued together. Yeah, sure. Smile the pain away, Elliot

Totally works

Because right there, in front of him, was not a kitchen, it’s a fucking aftermath of World War II

Five seconds in the room and he could feel his hair turning messy on its own

“What the fuck…” he whispered under his breath

From the floor, Samantha’s muffled voice croaked out like a soldier giving her last radio transmission

“Luke doesn’t know how to make a pizza… Richard keeps forgetting how to time… Cody got overwhelmed from being the only cashier… Sean’s back is about to snap in half… and I’ve already surrendered myself to the floor”

She didn’t even open her eyes. Just laid there like a corpse filing paperwork

“YEAH- HEY! I’m not that bad!” Luke piped up defensively

Samantha’s head shot up, eyes blazing with a fury only the damned knew

“Not that bad? NOT THAT BAD?! LUKE, YOU BURNT FIVE PIZZAS TODAY! NOT BAD WHERE??”

Then, as if that outburst drained the last of her HP, she flopped back onto the tiles with a dramatic thud

Elliot stood frozen in the doorway, a soft little smile stretching on his face

Dear god

Someone please strike him where he stood

“Okay. Fine. Think positive, Elliot… think positive…” he whispered to himself, voice shaking

Then, snap

“YEAH! EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE AHAHAHEHEHEHEHEHE!!”

He lunged into the kitchen like a deranged janitor, grabbing armfuls of disaster. Burnt pizzas launched into the trash with sniper precision. Flour wiped, trays slammed back into order, knives clattering into sinks. He moved at such a breakneck pace it was unclear if he was cleaning or exorcising demons

Richard bend down to Samantha, whispering nervously

“You think he’s okay…?”

Without moving a single muscle, Samantha tilted her head, deadpan eyes locked on him.

“If I ever say he’s okay and sane, Richard… I’m lying”

“I’M OKAY! I’M FINE! ALALALALALALALALAAA!!” Elliot suddenly shriek-giggled, scrubbing the counter like it had personally wronged him

…Okay. Maybe not fine

Elliot, buddy, you gotta snap out of it

You’re going insane

Like- weirdly insane

Elliot stopped, sighing at the never ending-sized stack of orders waiting to be filled

Yup. This is what one single day without him did to the pizzeria.

“Before I come back from being missing…” Elliot muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose

“how did you all even manage this place??”

Luke shrugged, smiling dumbly like a man with no brain cells left in his inventory

“Dunno, man. Sean and Samantha carried everything. We, uh… we kinda just got used to having you around to keep us alive”

Elliot stared at him. Long. Hard. Silent

“What will you all even do without me?” Elliot sighed, again. If sighing burned calories, he’d be shredded by now. He shook his head dramatically while sweeping the floor, as if the broom was his tragic partner in life’s cruel play

He turned, mid-dramatic sweep, only to lock eyes with a very specific someone.

Oh

Right

Richard

Of course it’s him

Richard wasn’t even doing anything particularly threatening, just staring. But it wasn’t a normal stare it was the kind that peeled skin, the kind that made you question every bad decision you’ve ever made. The kind of stare that could be filed as psychological warfare

Elliot immediately broke into a sweat. Perfect. Just what he needed. Nothing to worry about, nothing could possibly go wrong today. Nope. Not at all. Everything will be fine. It was just Richard staring into his soul like he was trying to detect emotions, and a kitchen that looked like it had lost a war against both man and nature

But joke’s on them, Elliot could clean this battlefield of grease and despair squeaky clean in minutes. Well… okay, maybe not minutes. Maybe more like… forty-five minutes. With breaks. And possibly divine motivation. Still! Faster than anyone else, guaranteed

Swipe left. Swipe right. Flick the broom like a martial arts master who specialized in janitor combat. Toss the latest worldwide crime aka a burnt pizza, into the trash with the form of an Olympic athlete. Shoo away a cockroach that looked like it was considering paying rent. He wondered how the place always managed to implode into chaos after just one shift. Did everyone secretly throw flour into the air like confetti when he wasn’t around?

It hit him, they’d gotten used to him. Him, Elliot. Somehow, in a few months, he had become a cornerstone of this disaster kitchen’s fragile ecosystem. And, annoyingly, it felt… kind of nice

Still, chores were chores. And Elliot, lunging forward into the chores, found something strange, he actually felt a little better. Like cleaning the mess in the kitchen was also scrubbing away the stress. Maybe throwing out pizza corpses was cheaper than therapy

He nodded to himself. Yes. This was good. This was productive. He was totally going to have a good day today. The gods above had to have heard his desperate midnight mutterings, right? Surely they took pity on him

…

Though knowing his luck, the gods were probably placing bets on how long it would take for someone or to be exact, either Luke or Richard, to spill sauce on his freshly mopped floor

After the kitchen warfront somewhat settled down, Richard’s stare downgraded from ‘soul harvesting’ to ‘I’ll get you latter’ Elliot finally turned toward the register. He scanned the counter, and there was Cody, a young boy valiantly typing away at the register like it was a bomb he had ten seconds to defuse

And beside him, Sean. Poor Sean, juggling orders, running between stations like a caffeinated worker, which might actually is. The line of customers stretched out the door like it was Black Friday at a pizza joint

Lunch rush

Yep. Once a week, like clockwork. And every time, everyone acted like it was an alien invasion they hadn’t prepared for

“Y-yes ma’am, this one correct? Yes-yes, we understand” Cody stammered, nodding so fast it looked like his head was buffering. He hit confirm without even realizing Elliot was creeping up behind him

Elliot’s hands hovered over Cody’s shoulders, theatrical and full of malice, inching closer, closer, closer…

“BOO!”

“MAMA, I’M AN ONION, GO AWAY!!” Cody shrieked like his soul was being repossessed

Sean nearly tripped himself over by the sudden event

“Seriously? Out of all the things in the world you could’ve said, you went with… onion?”

Cody whipped around, face pale, then blinked

“Wha- oh, it’s you! Elliot!” His voice cracked like glass under pressure. Relief washed over his face as he patted his chest a few times

“Jeez, Elliot, you scared me half to death”

“Well, you looked so focused. I couldn’t resist the classic sneak-attack” Elliot said with a smug little chuckle

Cody puffed his cheeks, gave him a playful punch. “Yeah, yeah, hilarious. But maybe instead of jump scares, you could, I don’t know, help?”

“PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HELP” Sean wailed, an inch away from leaning onto the counter, like he was on the verge of tears

“I’VE BEEN RUNNING A MARATHON IN HERE. I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE. I’M ONLY ONE MAN” His voice cracked so hard the customers in line shifted uncomfortably, like maybe they should clap for him

Elliot sighed in saintly resignation “Yeah, yeah. Fine. Get back to the boxing station, or jump in the kitchen and help the other three before they set something on fire. I’ll take over here”

He slid behind the counter like a reluctant hero stepping onto the battlefield. So much to do today. First, he cleans up a war zone disguised as a kitchen. Now, another battle, against the unpredictable chaos of customer orders

Elliot turned to the next person in line, plastering on the customer-service smile that was half genuine, the other half? You shouldn’t know

“Hi, what can I get ya?”

The customer, dead serious

“A pizza with no cheese, please”

“….”

“And hold the tomato sauce!”

“…..”

The entire line behind him froze. Mouths dropped. Someone gasped audibly. The atmosphere turned funeral-level tense. People stared at the man like he’d just kicked their grandmother’s dog into traffic

Elliot blinked, his soul silently leaving his body. He wanted to ask why. He wanted to scream what’s wrong with you?! He wanted to file a police report. But instead, his customer-service voice betrayed him

“…so…you want…bread?”

“Exactly” The customer smiled proudly, as if they’d just invented pizza 2.0

Elliot smiled back, but it was the smile of a man whose sanity was hanging by a single mozzarella thread. He loved his job. He loved his customers. But this… this was too far. Way, WAY too far

For god’s sake, someone hand him a weapon, he wasn’t sure if it was for the customer, or for himself

-

-

-

The lunch rush had finally died down. Elliot was sweeping the floor, waiting for his break, brain drifting in that dull haze between exhaustion and restlessness. The front door chimed, letting in the smell of asphalt, exhaust, and cardboard pizza boxes

He didn’t think much of it, until the delivery bag thudded onto the prep table

“Four orders, three tips, one old lady asked if I could kill a spider for her. I did it. No tip for that though…”

Wait a second

That voice

Elliot’s head snapped up. He froze

The man pulled off his cap, ruffling sweaty brown hair, then caught Elliot’s stare. For one dizzying moment, Elliot’s whole world tilted sideways

It was him

007n7

And just like that, Elliot felt his fragile baby-steps toward positivity shatter into glittering pieces on the floor. Mood ruined. Day cursed. Gods above clearly had a sick sense of humor

Of course. That exploiter. That answer to why Elliot hadn’t seen him around the house this morning before therapy

The guy who left scars deeper than grease burns and overtime. The guy Elliot wanted to avoid at all costs, despite all those brutal, endless hours they’d spent working side by side in the Forsaken Realm. And now here he was, dressed in a pizzeria delivery uniform, like nothing had ever happened

“…hey, Elliot”

Guilt flickered across 007n7’s face, quick and raw

Elliot gripped the broom so hard his knuckles went white “…You’ve got to be kidding me. Why are you here?”

Luke appeared from the kitchen, clearly about to drag Elliot to lunch. Instead, he blinked at the scene

“Oh hey, you two know each other? New guy, right? Uh…no longer ex-employee? Dunno, man just kinda showed up again. I think you two might actually fit pretty-”

Silence. Stretched and sharp. Neither of them answered

007n7 cleared his throat. “I, uh… used to work here. Back in the day. You probably know-”

“Yes, I remember” Elliot cut him off, sharp and flat, his voice taut with the kind of caution reserved for flammable materials

“…Thought I’d try again. Fresh start” He gave a weak, lopsided smile “Didn’t think I’d run into you… so early”

Elliot’s jaw tightened “I work here. You know that, 007n7”

The man shifted uncomfortably, gaze sliding away from Elliot’s eyes

“Look, I know what I did before. I was…awful. To you. To everyone. I’ve had years to think about it. And I regret it. A lot”

Elliot let out a laugh, short, sharp, and completely humorless “Enough with the apologies. I already forgave you. Stay at a distance”

Luke winced

“Okay, uh, cool. Yeah. I feel like I should clock out before someone gets strangled with a pizza cutter” He raised his hands in retreat and vanished into the kitchen. Because really, did Luke look like the kind of guy who could diffuse violence with kind words and gentle forehead kisses? No. Of course not

007n7 sighed, leaning against the counter like he wished it would swallow him whole “I don’t want things to be weird. I just want to work. Earn my keep. Maybe… not be the guy you hate forever”

Elliot finally looked at him, eyes like glass shards

“Congratulations. You’re not the guy I hate forever. You’re just the guy I don’t trust, don’t like, and don’t plan on eating lunch with. Progress”

A small, broken laugh escaped the other man “…That’s… fair. I guess”

“Fair, right…” Elliot muttered, already halfway to the back, his body screaming to leave before this turned into something worse

The silence stretched again, heavy and awkward. Then Elliot stopped, deadpan over his shoulder

“Also, if you screw up even one order, I’m telling customers it was your idea to put pineapple on the meat-lovers”

007n7 chuckled weakly, shoulders sagging. “…Yeah. I probably deserve that”

And just like that, Elliot’s break trudged on

-

-

“Psst. Sean…” Luke whispered, low and sneaky, like he was trying to leak state secrets

Nothing. Sean didn’t even twitch

“Sean, dude. Hello?” Still no response, because Sean was currently halfway through inhaling his lunch, lost in his blissful food bubble

Luke’s eye twitched “SEAN!”

Sean jolted like someone had tasered him, nearly choking “Wha- WHAT?! God, man, don’t scream, I was happy for once! Cruel reality doesn’t let me fly, remember?” He groaned, glaring

Luke rolled his eyes so hard it was practically a workout. “Bro. Focus. Look over there” He gestured- no, pointed dramatically to where Elliot and 007n7 stood in their cold, tense bubble of silence

“You’ve been with Elliot way longer than us. Before the gal went missing, even. Any idea what’s the problem between ‘comeback-to-work-guy’ and our ‘employee-of-the-month’ Elliot?”

Sean turned, chewed thoughtfully, and let out the kind of sigh that belonged to a 94-year-old war veteran reflecting on trench trauma

“Well… those two do look tense. Like… divorced stranger levels of tense”

“Divorced stra- wait, what does that even mean?”

Sean held up a finger “Shh. Let me cook”

Luke gave him the most judgmental look but leaned back anyway. Sean wiped his mouth, cracked his neck like a man about to deliver the saga of a generation, and leaned in

“Back then, like back back then, when none of you three had joined me and Elliot yet-”

“That’s literally the most common backstory setup ever-”

“Shut up. Anyways. We were running this place under insane pressure. Barely any employees-”

“Dude, that’s still the problem right now. Look at us, we’re-”

“SHUT it!”

“I’m just stating facts, you dumbass!”

“No you!”

“No you!!”

“No you!!!”

“Yes YOU!!”

“Y- no, I’m not falling for that. That’s how Elliot always loses” Sean scowled, giving Luke a light punch before dramatically resuming his tale

“Back to history. Me and Elliot, we held the pizzeria. Overtime every day, running on fumes. Still managed to stay kinda happy, though. Until they showed up. An exploiter and his buddy. They burned the pizzeria down. Messed with the systems. Treated us like we were toys” Sean’s voice darkened, his eyes narrowing at the memory

Luke whistled “Dang. Coward move. Straight-up bummer”

Sean glared “I hope it burns when you pee, Luke”

“HEY- what does that even-”

“ANYWAYS. Every time the admins came, those two were already gone. Like ghosts. Me and Elliot lived in fear every single day. Fixing things, dodging fires, literal and metaphorical. Living. In. Hell” Sean took a long, haunted pause, like he’d just monologued in a war drama

Luke leaned in “…and then?”

“And then, nothing. They just vanished. No explanation, no apology. Just gone” Sean shrugged, voice low and bitter “Years passed. We wondered what the hell happened to them. Then today? One of them waltzes right back in like it’s casual Monday while the other just vanish. Guess which one come back”

Luke tilted his head, thinking hard “…Uhh… Timmytoe?”

Sean blinked “Who the hell names themselves that? Forget it. It’s 007n7. THE exploiter. The one who ruined mine and Elliot’s lives back then”

He slapped the table for emphasis, eyes blazing “HE’S THAT GUY!”

Luke’s jaw dropped, eyes wide “What”

Sean nodded grimly “Exactly. What”

“Yeah, 007n7 ruined our life, then applied for a job at the same place he wrecked years ago. Crazy, right?” Sean shook his head, stabbing his fork into what was left of his lunch

“Turns out he got a son now. Adopted. Guy ain’t pulling chicks, dude”

Luke raised an eyebrow “Wait, wait he’s a dad? That guy? You’re joking”

Sean groaned “Wish I was. Now imagine this, pizzeria gets destroyed again… by his son. Like father, like menace.”

That got Samantha’s attention. She’d been lingering at the next table, pretending not to eavesdrop. She leaned in, baffled

“Wait- what? You mean his kid actually…?”

“Yup” Sean nodded grimly, as if reliving every nightmare shift

“His son tormented us real bad. I heard 007n7 had to juggle, like, three jobs just to pay off damages. Then, poof the kid goes missing, no more pizzeria burning down thou. Next thing we know, 007n7’s wandering around muttering his son’s name like some broken record. Creepy stuff. And then he just… stops showing up to work. Vanished”

Samantha’s eyes widened “That’s… awful”

“Tell me about it,” Sean muttered, fidgeting with his fingers

“Two months of radio silence. We’re understaffed as hell, right? Someone had to check on him. Elliot, of course, volunteers. Doesn’t want to burden anyone else. Walks right into that mess, and…” Sean’s voice dropped lower

“That’s how Elliot went missing for two years”

The table fell silent. Samantha glanced over to where Elliot sat in the corner, scrolling his phone, finally enjoying a rare break. He looked so normal, so mundane, like a regular tired worker on lunch. And yet…

“My god…” Samantha murmured “Who would’ve thought a whimsical pizza place could have such a devastating history…”

“Exactly” Sean said with a humorless laugh “No wonder people quit on day one. I would’ve too if not for the paycheck, and Elliot. Knowing him, back then? He’d probably die on the job if no one forced him to take a break”

Luke tilted his head “Wait… doesn’t that sound kinda gay?”

Both Sean and Samantha stared

“…what?”

“Luke… my guy…” Sean put a hand on his shoulder, eyes filled with unspeakable disappointment

“Look, look!” Luke shrugged “They vanished together. Gone two years. Came back, all tense and mysterious. Sounds like sussy sauce to me. Sounds gay”

BONK

Samantha smacked him across the head.

“OW! Hey!!”

“Shut up! You don’t get to scream here!” she hissed, glaring. Then, turning to Sean, she laughed awkwardly

“He’s just… like that. You know how Luke is”

Sean sighed, pulling his hand away from Luke “Past me would’ve been pissed, but… since Elliot’s back? I guess I can’t even be mad at the joke anymore” A small chuckle escaped him

“SEE?” Luke beamed “But, like, think about it! What if they did break up and now they’re awkward co-workers? That would explain everything!”

“Uh huh” Samantha folded her arms, unimpressed “Well if that’s the reason, I’m gonna hate them. Equal opportunity hater. And no, that’s not homophobic, thank you very much”

Sean snorted “Honestly? Elliot would beat my ass if he ever heard this. HA! But his gay ass hasn’t pulled shit on me yet!”

And just like that, the three of them dissolved into ridiculous laughter, arguing over whether Elliot was secretly gay, making theories, and tossing jokes back and forth. For a moment, the heavy history didn’t matter, just coworkers being dumb during their lunch break

-

-

-

Today had been a long, dragging day for 007n7
He was still adjusting to the ‘normal’ world. It felt too still sometimes, too unsharpened after Forsaken Realm, like stepping out of a storm into a room with padded walls. He’d only just escaped, only just found footing, and yet here he was working in the same pizzeria as Elliot, of all people

Money was money, and he couldn’t live rent-free under Elliot’s roof. Not without guilt eating him alive

But a heavier guilt followed him

He still had no idea how to go back and save for the others. Especially Dusekkar

His chest tightened at the memory, Chance run to grabs Two Time toward safety, smiling like it was nothing, and then speeding away after they push 7n7 into the bug. Dusekkar standing his ground against that thing, brutal and unyielding. 7n7 still remembered the sound of it, the clash, the roar, the way his gut sank as he was escape way too fast to help

Dusekkar was strong. Very strong. Terrifying strong. The kind of admin that made exploiters whisper his name like a curse. If anyone had a chance of making it out… it was him

Maybe…

No, surely!!

Back in his exploiter era, he’d admit, Dusekkar was definitely and absolutely, one of the admins he afraid the most, who is he kidding! He sure Noil once said he almost got caught by the mage, scary… Yeah, Dusekkar is strong and calculative, he knows what he’s doing. Dusekkar surely would escape!

That fragile hope was what kept 7n7 walking, he believes Dusekkar did escape the Forsaken Realm with Chance and Two Time

Maybe if he’s lucky enough

7n7 could regroup with Dusekkar and the rest of the team!

By the time he reached Elliot’s front door, his body was leaden, uniform crumpled, delivery bag still slung across one sore shoulder. He managed a small, exhausted smile as he pushed the door open

Click

“I–I’m home!”

“Hello… 007n7”

The kitchen smelled of garlic and something simmering. Elliot stood at the stove, movements sharp, twitchy, chopping too fast, stirring too hard, cabinet doors slamming louder than necessary. It wasn’t cooking; it was barely-controlled chaos

7n7 blinked in the doorway, leaning against the frame

“You’re… cooking?”

Elliot didn’t turn. He kept his eyes on the bubbling pot, pouring in salt like he was trying to bury something inside it

“Don’t sound so shocked. I fed you and the survivors back then, remember? I know how to cook”

“Yeah, but…” 7n7 rubbed his neck “…It’s midnight”

“Wow” Elliot flicked the spoon against the pot, the clink sharp in the small kitchen

“Thank you, Big Ben. Without you, I’d never know what time it was”

7n7 chuckled awkwardly, took a cautious step closer “So, uh… what’s for dinner?”

Elliot slid a plate across the counter without looking up. A heap of pasta, steam curling into the air

“You’re having pasta for dinner. Congratulations”

“…Wait. Just me?”

“Yup” Elliot leaned against the counter, drying his hands on a rag. His face was unreadable, voice thin with false cheer “Don’t say I never take care of you”

7n7 looked from the plate to him, frown deepening “What about you?”

“Not hungry” Too fast. Too flat

“…You cooked all this, and you’re not gonna eat?”

Elliot cracked open a half-empty soda, raised it like a toast

“Liquid dinner. Cheers”

“That doesn’t count…”

“Sure it does” He took a long sip, grimaced at the taste but forced a grin anyway

“Tastes good. Delicious”

7n7 stared, fork hovering “Elliot, that’s-”

“Relax” Elliot waved him off. “I’m not starving myself for fun. Just… don’t feel like it. My stomach and I aren’t on speaking terms”

“That’s not good”

The smile dropped. Elliot shrugged, leaning heavier against the counter

“So what? You get free food. Be grateful”

7n7 twirled the pasta slowly, chewing in silence. It was good, of course it was good, Elliot always cooked with this unintentional precision that made flavors work. But every bite felt heavy when Elliot stood across from him, soda in hand, arms crossed like a shield

“You ever think about cooking for yourself?” he asked carefully

Elliot froze mid-sip. For a second, guilt cracked through before he looked away

“What, and ruin the illusion I’m the generous housemate? Nah. Besides…” His voice dipped quieter, bitter

“It’s easier feeding other people than feeding myself.”

The fork stilled “…That’s not normal, Elliot.”

Silence swelled. Elliot opened his mouth, but no comeback came. Only a long, tired sigh

“Eat. Don’t make this into a therapy session.”

So 7n7 ate. Slowly, silently. Elliot busied himself with wiping down a counter already spotless, pretending not to notice the way 7n7 kept watching him. Pretending not to notice the weight of guilt thickening the air

Elliot hated it. Hated the staring, hated being seen through. His voice came too fast, too brittle

“Don’t look so worried. I’ll eat tomorrow. Or the day after. I like to keep my metabolism guessing”

007n7 didn’t laugh

He just chewed quietly, his shoulders tense, while Elliot scrubbed at the counter like he could wash away the conversation before it started-

-

The balcony was quiet

It wasn’t beautiful, the railing rusted in places, the tiles chipped from years of weather but it had a view of the street below. Pale orange streetlights stood like tired soldiers, casting halos of light on the pavement. The night breeze threaded its way past rooftops and hedges, soft enough to make the curtains stir behind the glass door

Elliot exhaled slowly, smoke curling up into the night. He only let himself do this here, at this hour, when the world had gone still and no one was looking. The cigarette glowed red, then dimmed. A small ember against an endless dark

He didn’t hear the sliding door until it was too late

“Elliot?”

He jolted, nearly burning his fingers. He spun, eyes wide, caught in the dim light like a thief

“Shit-” He cupped the cigarette awkwardly, as if hiding the glowing tip could erase it “Don’t you knock?”

007n7 stepped out, brows furrowed. His uniform still hung off his frame, the smell of pizza grease clinging to him “You smoke?”

“No” Elliot said instantly. He ground the cigarette into the ashtray so hard the filter bent. He waved at the air like that would erase the smell “It’s incense. Realistic incense”

“…Incense doesn’t smell like a gas station parking lot”

Elliot rubbed at his temple, muttering “Fine. Congratulations, Sherlock. You caught me. Do me a favor and forget you ever saw this”

But 007n7 pulled a chair forward and sat down instead, folding his arms “How long?”

Elliot lit another cigarette right in front of him, defiance written in every motion. He inhaled, exhaled. The smoke drifted between them like a curtain. His hands shook faintly

“Long enough to be good at hiding it” He lifted the glowing tip again

“And before you start, yes, I know it’s bad for me, yes, I know it’s stupid, no, I don’t need a lecture”

007n7 didn’t smile. His eyes stayed fixed on him. On the hollow eyes, the deep shadows bag, the way his posture sagged like something invisible was crushing him

An image he has never seen on Elliot

“You look like hell”

Elliot let out a broken laugh, smoke escaping his grin “Hell’s generous. You mean crashing”

“You don’t eat. You don’t sleep. Now this. You’re burning yourself out”

Elliot flicked ash off the railing “Better me than anyone else”

“…What does that mean?”

“It means if I keep myself busy destroying myself, then I’m the only one who gets hurt. My friends don’t worry. My family doesn’t get dragged in. Everyone stays safe. That’s my job. Being fine”

“That’s not being fine” 007n7 said, his voice tightening “That’s killing yourself slowly”

“Yeah, well…” Elliot leaned his head back, smoke curling into the air above him “Slow’s better than fast”

The silence after that felt longer than it really was. The street below looked abandoned, empty sidewalks under humming lamps

“I ruined your life once already” 007n7 said finally, voice low “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you ruin yourself now”

Elliot glanced at him, startled by the rawness. He chuckled weakly, shaking his head

“I already forgave you. Remember? You don’t get to psychoanalyze me at two in the morning on my balcony”

“That’s not what I mean” His voice rose, unsteady but sharp “Forget forgiveness. Forget me. I don’t care. Just don’t do this to yourself”

Elliot’s cigarette trembled faintly between his fingers. He tried for humor but his voice cracked

“I’m not. What do you mean?”

007n7 leaned forward, elbows on his knees, desperate

“Fine. Then hate me. But don’t give up. Don’t die”

The ember flared bright, then dulled. Elliot crushed the cigarette into the tray with a hand that shook too much

“I’m fine” he whispered “That’s the deal. I’m the guy who’s fine”

007n7 clenched his jaw, wanting to rip the words apart, to shove the truth in his face. But he couldn’t. Not when Elliot looked that fragile, like glass about to shatter

“…Then I’m staying out here” he said instead “With you. All night, if I have to”

Elliot blinked at him “…You’re kidding.”

“No” He folded his arms tighter “If you’re gonna sit here pretending you’re fine, then I’ll sit here pretending I believe you. But either way, you’re not alone”

Elliot stared, then shook his head. He lit another cigarette anyway, a bitter little smile tugging at his lips “You’re stubborn”

“Guess I learned from you”

For a long while, the two of them sat in silence, smoke curling upward into the night. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, then nothing

Elliot broke the silence first, his voice quieter than the wind.

“…Back in Forsaken Realm, I used to fight tooth and nails to keep everyone alive. Burning with passion to keep myself and everyone alive like a fool. Now it’s just-” He lifted the cigarette, gesturing with a shaky hand “This”

007n7 didn’t answer. He thought of Dusekkar standing against The Spectre, Chance smiling as he ran to save Two Time. He thought of Elliot still carrying smokes in his lungs to keep himself together for just a little longer

The sky began to pale at the edges, shifting from black to a bruised gray

Elliot stubbed out his last cigarette, pushing the ashtray away like he couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. Then he rose, stretching his sore arms, his face unreadable

“…Get some sleep” he muttered, sliding the door open “Don’t catch a cold out here”

“Elliot-”

“Goodnight, 7n7”

The door clicked shut behind him

The ex-exploiter sat there alone on the balcony, staring at the ashtray, at the faint smoke still curling upward like ghosts refusing to leave. The streetlights buzzed, the horizon turned pale, and somewhere inside the house, a door closed softly

And he knew Elliot hadn’t let him in at all

-

-

-

[Die die die die die, die and ROT YOU RATS]

Notes:

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sweet mother of earth, the words are growing...
if anyone ever wonder why 7n7 arrive home late, it's bc he walked home, Elliot forgot to pick him up lololol
also!
The good new is...I finally got back my motivation to throw the "I'm gonna drop this fic bc i switch fandom" into the trash can, I'll be honest here, the comments are the thing that makes me bounced right back, without y'all help, I don't think I could continue the fic, thank you, thank you for everything you give me :)

The bad new is...THE SCHOOL IS GRILLING ME ALIVE PLEASE SOMEONE SAVE THIS POOR MAN, TESTS AFTER TESTS I MIGHT NOT KEEP MY STRAIGHT B STUDENT ALIVE, I COULD'VE POST THIS SOONER GOD DANGIT

also also

Phighting, if anyone ever see some guy switch to Shuriken in the lobby after a few rounds then starts his line with "Joke of the day with Shuriken" and ends with a terrible puns, that's me, nice to meet you :]