Chapter 1: Grief brings
Chapter Text
Despite what the numerous Roblox myths about him may claim; 007n7 was not the best hacker to ever live. In fact, he was sloppy, arrogant, and cocky. He never thought that he would quit hacking, especially not for an oddly domestic life with a red demonic toddler. So, he never failsafed his transactions. He owed a significant debt to the Mafia from his time as a hacker, wiring Robux without a care in the world of who he was taking it from. So, when he finally settled down and retired with c00lkidd, he eased up. He got comfortable. He was easier to track with an address that he stayed at, no longer moving all over Robloxia. He let himself forget about his debt. Not because it was an insignificant amount, but because he had wrongfully placed more faith in his foolish, teenaged hacker-self. Oh, how wrong he was.
The Mafia didn’t greet him with a letter, or a cryptic message on his phone. It wasn’t a threat to his child carved in the wall of his living room, or his baby suddenly missing. They greeted him in person . Well, not the big boss himself. At least, 007n7 didn’t think this was the big boss.
He had opened his door to grab his prescription glasses from his, insultingly and annoyingly flamboyant, car, wishing to continue a book that he had been recommended by an older lady at the grocery store. However, what greeted him instead of his porch light, was an average height man with a sword hilted on his waist. He wasn’t standing there, waiting awkwardly for 007n7 to open the door, but was instead leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He didn’t startle at the sound or sight of 007n7, simply glanced at him before flicking the ash off the butt end of his cigarette, and squishing the stub on the white of the drywall behind him. The cigarette dangled out of his hand, quietly dropping to the floor.
“You buy that car with stolen Robux?” He stated it as a question– but really, it was more of an ice breaker. They both knew what he was here for. 007n7 tensed slowly, not making it noticeable, although it was understandable that he was on guard.
“Naturally.” he slipped sarcastically. He didn’t allow himself to have a fit over his attitude toward the man. To his credit, he didn’t seem surprised at the sass the single father showed him. He simply pushed himself off the wall and turned his head to look at 007n7. He seemed to be observing him, so he took the chance to do the same.
The man was only a few inches taller than 007n7. If needed, he trusted in his ability to fight this man off. If he hadn’t brought anyone else with him. But, the Mafia was undoubtedly an occupying business. He was fairly confident that the Mafia wouldn’t bring more than one man unless they considered him to be dangerous. He would argue against that, but knowing his abilities and fierce protectiveness over his newly acquainted child, he wouldn’t put it past him to do rash things one last time.
A white top hat with a black ribbon tied around it, a limp bow protruding from the brim of the hat. A short sleeved button up shirt with a black vest. Black– 007n7 was pulled out of the doorway and swiftly flipped to slam against the drywall. The man’s eyes widened. The Mafia man’s expression had tightened by a fraction.
“How rude of me. Address me as Consigliere. I was asked to kindly remind you of your significant debt in place of my boss.” Despite his words, Consigliere made it quite clear that he was uncaring about manners. 007n7 didn’t voice this thought.
“You owe the significant sum of ~$21,540,200 to us. In exact numbers, $21,536,197. We have no qualms about rounding up the amount for you– although you may find that you have no choice in that matter if this debt goes unpaid for more than two months.” 007n7 felt his eyes nearly bounce out of his skull.
“Wh-what! Two months ?!” He stuttered, stomach quickly sinking with the dread of realization. Consigliere met his eyes without a hint of sympathy. “Yes. You have two months before we take the amount owed in our own way.” 007n7 felt his heart drop to his feet, his hands sweaty in the clenched fists. Consigliere quickly pulled away from 007n7, leaving him to slump against the wall, his legs trembling.
“I don’t like selling children, but we do whatever to recover the funds. Find a way to pay us back, or we’ll find a way for you.” 007n7’s terror swirled with fury at Consigliere’s implicative words. The man simply adjusted his top hat, glanced at 007n7 once more, then turned away.
“A coworker of mine will visit you in five days. Or, maybe it’ll be me. When your time is out, my boss will come for you. Don’t try to run. Don’t try to hide, or cash in favors to other amateur hackers. It’ll only prolong your suffering.” 007n7 was left with his mouth gaping as Consigliere walked away. A small, sleek car that the ex-hacker had failed to notice was parked near his driveway. Consigliere slid inside and left without another word.
The father was plagued by his mind for the rest of the night. Consigliere’s words mingled with his overactive imagination. He couldn’t sleep– not even if he wanted to. He spent the entire night looking for jobs. He posted a poorly made ad showcasing his knack for everything code and hardware related. By the end of it, 007n7 had thirty four emails thanking him for applying, and promising to look at his application and contact him if he met their requirements. 007n7 passed out at four AM from raw exhaustion. He woke up at five thirty in the morning to the sound of c00lkidd crying.
Within three days, sixteen of the jobs had contacted him via email. All of them denied him, in differing ways. Some with the typical lengthy message about how ‘he wasn’t what they were looking for,’ or ‘there was someone else who met the qualifications.’ Others were plain and clear about it: they didn’t want a hacker working for them. Maybe if their business was more illegal or far more understaffed and desperate, they would’ve considered. Elliot took the time out of his day to send him a personalized email. It consisted of multiple words, some of which had him giggling and others having him blancing. He wasn’t that bad with his exploits! He just fucked with the pizzeria a little! Rotating booths, counters, cars, and ovens! Other times… maybe taking a bit of joy in scaring the customers with unsettling music and graphics pasted stubbornly on walls. He was doing a bit of redecorating..! And clearly, he wanted 007n7 to know he was the one who sent it, judging by his bolded, underlined, and italicized name following the paragraph of hateful insults. 007n7 trashed the email and sighed. The only hope he had was his advertisement (made with a separate email and fake name) and the other dozen or so job openings.
007n7 opened his alternative email to see one message in his inbox. He clicked on it. It was from someone clearly unfamiliar, maybe just a curious person and not even a possible customer, but nonetheless he read.
2x2 (2x2 @hotmail.com )
RE: Pranking Softwair?
Hi, do you knoe how too make a softwair for pranks? Or too make somone pay atention? I keep being egnored, I want to stop it
2x2
007n7 blinked once. Then he blinked again. Before he knew what he was doing, a giggle was building up in his throat. His eyes danced over the words of the email and suddenly, his head was thrown back and he was laughing like his life depended on it. This was a child . There’s no way in hell it wasn’t! Softwair , atention, egnored . 007n7 unintentionally revived his laughter, struggling to breath due to his amusement. He had to admit, as long as the kid had a way to pay, he’d even accept a parent’s borrowed credit card , he’d do it for them. So, despite the ridiculously terrible quality of the email, he found himself replying.
2x2 | Steven
RE: Pranking Softwair?
Hi, do you knoe how too make a softwair for pranks? Or too make somone pay atention? I keep being egnored, I want to stop it
2x2
From : Steven
Sent: Wednesday, July 05, 2016 4:23 PM
To: 2x2 <[email protected]>
Subject: Pranking *Software?
I can make practically anything, but my question is, did you even read my advertisement? Do you know how much this would cost you? Do you even have a method of payment?
Steven
Self-employed Certified Software Engineer
Reach me here or XXX-007-XXXX
He leaned back into the sofa, casually scooping c00lkidd into his arm when the toddler tumbled forward. 007n7 looked away from his screen, smiling at the toddler as he swooped him into his arms, pressing his cold cheek against the toddler’s warm face. c00lkidd cooed, pleased at the soft cold. 007n7 cracked one eye open when his Outlook chimed a quiet notification sound. He readjusted c00lkidd in his arms and refreshed his Outlook, a playful smile edging at his lips as he looked over the bolded email from 2x2. He opened it, leaning back with c00lkidd and reading.
From: 2x2
Sent : Wednesday, June 5, 2016 4:26 PM
To: Steven < [email protected] >
Subject: Pranking *Software?
i can pay anything. whats your square cash or paybux
2x2
Certified SFOTH pwnr
Square Cash, 007n7 rolled his eyes at the new app. Of course this kid asks for that before his Paybux. And he mocked copied his email signature. 007n7 doubted this kid was a ‘certified SFOTH pwnr,’ much less that they even knew how to hold a sword in the first place. Regardless of all this, the man was desperate. So, he sent his Paybux, and within five minutes, someone with their exact same name had sent them– his eyes grew wide. So very wide. 90k Robux. That was all the confirmation he needed. The kid emailed him, asking if that satisfied his worries about payment, and 007n7 got straight to business.
From : Steven
Sent: Wednesday, July 05, 2016 4:34 PM
To: 2x2 <[email protected]>
Subject: Pranking *Software?
Alright. What do you want me to make you; and give me the specifics. Do you need it to be functional for one or multiple people, a multitude of pranks dependent on your own code for custom pranks, or pre-added ones. Do you want it locked to you? How many people will be using it? When do you need it by? Is it strictly for pranks, or do you need other additions?
Steven
Self-employed Certified Software Engineer
Reach me here or XXX-007-XXXX
2x2 replied with a word document detailing everything they were hoping to receive from the software. Although it had poor grammar and less than amazing punctuation, 007n7 felt excitement building in him. He worked tirelessly on the software for two days, only stopping to care for c00lkidd, but typically multitasking even then. He was so preoccupied with the software, that he had forgotten about the visit the Mafia would be paying him tonight. He stretched, yawning loudly and pausing when he heard a chipper knock on his door. His mind raced with possibilities as he slowly stood up after pausing. He caught a glimpse of a blob and black and white. Shit .
When the door opened, 007n7 didn’t know if he would prefer Consigliere for his nonchalant, straight business attitude, or Contractee , his apparent name , for his laidback and talkative personality. Straight from the bat, the man greeted the ex-hacker as if they were friends, throwing his arm around his shoulder and walking him back inside, seating them both.
Between his endless questions about 007n7’s mundane homelife, he slipped something actually business related in, “so, how are you going to do this?” The father’s head tilted in confusion.
“You know, your debt! You gonna pay it in increments, all at once, or random sporadic chunks? We’d prefer increments, by the way,” Contractee said with a wink. 007n7 blinked before nodding slowly, “increments. I’ll do that.” He smiled, adjusting his black hat before sticking his hand out.
“...Do you wanna shake on it..? Is that what this is?” Contractee blinked before pulling back his hand, his eyes now wide with realization, “oh! You’re paying online, eh? Alright, what’s your eh, handle?” He paused, “I have to pay now ?” Contractee nodded, his eyes closed as he leaned back into the couch.
“Aw, don’t tell me you got nothin’ for us! Five whole days, the boss woulda made a hun’ed thousan’ by now!” 007n7 sighed, resisting the urge to ask why he needed to repay them if Robux came like water for them.
“I’ll pay you soon, I promise. I need to finish this software before I’m paid, then I’ll wire the Robux to you. Or your boss, whatever… do you guys use, uh, Paybux?” Contractee’s eyes opened. He blinked before smiling oddly, “what else would we use, eh? Wire the Robux to the handle Mafioso when you got it, ‘kay?” he leaned in close, the rim of his hat brushing against 007n7’s bangs. The father nodded.
“Great! We’re done here then. See you in another five days! Better ‘ave wired the Robux by then.” And he was gone, leaving his house as if 007n7 had been the one to invite him in.
Splitting his time between job surfing, simple interviews, and completing the pranking software; he was making impressive progress with it all. The amount of jobs he’s applied to could hold a world record, and he’s now gone to about a dozen interviews. He knows half or so of those would be denying him now that they’ve seen him and know for certain who he is. But, he’s just completed 2x2’s prank software, got paid a whopping $130k Robux when he had only priced it at 80.5k. 2x2 insisted, stating that the money wouldn’t be missed and how he’d be wishing he paid Steven more with each use he got out of it. After testing it himself on his victim, he sent Steven another 12k. 007n7 was significantly concerned about the wallet of this kid’s parent.
If all else fails, he begs the kid for more money.
With $142k Robux collected, he wired the money to Mafioso on Paybux, praying that it was the right one and he didn’t just send the money to a now very wealthy stranger. He got a message thanking him, and reporting his new amount owed; $21, 394, 197 Robux. 007n7 sighed heavily, relieved that the payment was correctly processed but discouraged at the large amount remaining.
007n7 wouldn’t let this deter him! Dammit, he hates owing people! He will pay that stupid debt, he will get four or five jobs, and he will get more commissions for software!
It was eleven o’clock at night. 007n7 was sitting in the living room, the blinding white light of his laptop’s screen illuminating his face. Only, his eyes weren’t visible behind his pink prescription glasses. He leaned forward, his fingers flexing and glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. And he grinned with all too many teeth, as if the world were in his hands.
Well, so much for that. Getting a child does change you in ways nothing else can, but 007n7 hasn’t fully sunk into the cushy, depressing life of being a single parent. He smiles sweetly at the bags of stolen Robux, packed nicely into large, bunched bags. The admins will replace the money for the banks of Robloxia. What’s more important to him , is getting himself out of debt. He doesn’t know why his teenaged self stole money from underground organizations! Although stealing from banks guaranteed more eyes looking out for you, he would much prefer that over hundreds of little Mafia men having it out for him. He opened his messages, scrolling as c00lkidd chewed on one of the bags containing Robux, and clicked on the contact who had alerted him of his new balance. He didn’t know whether or not it was a bit, but he had no other way to contact the Mafia. So he called as he stood up and gently pried c00lkidd away from the bags of Robux, allowing the toddler to teeth at his fingers.
The line was picked up with a gentle click as if it were a handheld transceiver (he didn’t know how the person would take to him calling it a walkie talkie) instead of a normal mobile phone.
“More than $21 billion Robux, eh? Are you ready to pay up, then?” A smooth, baritone voice greeted oddly. 007n7 blinked, somewhat shocked that the number wasn’t to some sort of automated AI. He cleared his throat.
“Yeah. I have it all, but it’s in cash, so…” the ex-hacker trailed, sure that the man would understand that he would need to come retrieve it.
“Understood. My boys and I will be there shortly. Be prepared.” The phone clicked. Slightly perplexed, 007n7 pulled the phone away from his ear to see the screen showing their brief message history. 007n7 slouched, sighing as he picked c00lkidd up.
“Come on honey… it’s time for food, then your nap, ok bud?” c00lkidd babbled intelligently. 007n7 patted his head, ghosting his fingers over the small nubs. For a toddler, his horns were cool as hell.
It wasn’t very long after c00lkidd had finished his food that there had been a knock on the door. 007n7 adjusted his shirt and hefted him up, planning to put him to bed then open the door. However, when he walked toward the stairs, the knocking repeated once more. He didn’t need to look down to know that c00lkidd had that familiar scrunched up face with hardly contained tears. Guess the door would be first , then.
“Coming,” he said as he swiftly walked toward the door, undoing the locks and swinging it open. A tall, unfamiliar man draped in a large jacket was standing in front of him. Internally, he realized with a bit of humor that he’d never seen any of them in the day. He opened his door wider, allowing the initial man to step through, followed by four others, only two of which he recognized.
“Well, that was fast, wasn’t it, Zero?” Contractee said with a smile, his hand on 007n7’s shoulder before he fluidly slipped past. Consigliere glimpsed down at his child before looking back up at 007n7.
“False Robux will have your debt rounded up. You’ve been warned.” 007n7 frowned, his eyes narrowing.
“I don’t think the bank has false Robux, Linguini,” he bit back. Contractee paused, as did Consigliere and one of the other men with a tall black hat.
“ Linguini ,” The latter whispered, repeating 007n7 as much as he was teasing Consigliere. Contractee smiled, giggling while Consigliere’s expression remained neutral, with a small narrow of his eyes being the money sign that the tease got to him.
“ Consigliere, ” the top-hat bearer stated sternly, “do not address me as Linguini. That is an Italian stereotype. I despise Ratatouille.” 007n7 frowned playfully, “that’s c00lkidd’s favorite movie!” While 007n7 had spoken with the three Mafia men, the other two had taken to inspecting the money. The short man with sunglasses pulled out some sort of odd laser, waving it over one bill, then a pile. He narrowed his eyes before nodding in satisfaction and turning to the other, who was presumably the boss.
“You,” 007n7 reflexively looked up, as did the other four, “put your child to sleep, why don’t you. If he starts crying, I can’t say he’ll live to see the next day.” 007n7 pulled his child closer to him, eyeing the Mafia member with clear disdain.
“Remember whose house you’re in. And don’t forget who I was,” 007n7 simply states before walking past the five of them, the noob on his burger hat turning to glare at them as the ex-hacker walked up the stairs. Contractee whistled once they heard a door closing.
“I thought we wanted him to work with us?” He stated slowly. Consigliere nodded, looking at Soldier who shrugged and glanced at Caporegime, then Mafioso. The boss took a seat on the couch, “I didn’t mean it as a real threat. I thought he would understand that. I may be a Boss in the Mafia, but he has power while we have numbers. His talents would be useful to Eunoia, or so she says. Who am I to disagree?” Caporegime sits as well, Consigliere, Soldier, and Contractee following.
“We’ll take the goods back to base and ensure that each stud is real. Then, we’ll lift his debth and invite him in,” Mafioso nodded to himself. Soldier agreed, “sounds like a plan. What if he doesn’t want to join?” Mafioso slowly looked up at Soldier before shrugging, “Eunoia will convince him. She doesn’t like letting go of those who interest her.” Contractee wilts, shivering discreetly.
007n7 walks down the stairs. The four men straighten, while Mafioso simply adjusts himself as if getting comfortable.
“We’re going to–”
“–take the goods back to your base and ensure that each ‘stud’ is real?” The father finished with a sly smile. Mafioso’s shoulders tensed minutely. Soldier swiftly looked between the two.
“...You heard everything.” It was a statement, not a question. Mafioso wasn’t foolish to question things he already knew.
“I did. I’m not joining the Mafia. In case you forgot , I have a child. A baby. A toddler. And I will not endanger him to earn a dishonest–”
“Eunoia pays 25k Robux per hour for your desired position,” Contractee chirps,
“– I might endanger him to earn a dishonest living. That’s what I meant to say.” 007n7 repeated, clearing his throat. Mafioso smiled, and Consigliere shared a glance of partial worry with Caporegime, who looked perfectly content.
The work wasn’t terribly hard. What was a bit demanding, was the amount of things that needed his upkeep and expertise. He wasn’t out hunting those who owed debts– but more of a behind the scenes worker. He installed updated firewalls, cleared out unneeded programs causing clutter, wired money straight from the banks of stubborn debtors, and gave updated softwares to Mafioso and his men. It wasn’t a very honest living, but it was living. Not to mention, Eunoia turned out to be a very pleasant woman– android? Not just to members of the Mafia, but to c00lkidd as well. She found joy in babysitting him while working her day job– shopkeeping, surprisingly. This allowed the ex-hacker to find his own– Burger King , where he met one unique man, named Chance. However, the man had apparently quit– or had suddenly dropped the job. 007n7 wished him well in his life, although he was admittedly a bit saddened that Chance simply considered him a co-worker, and not a friend; judging by the fact that Chance hadn’t returned any of his messages or calls since he’d quit. 007n7 paid no mind to it, dropping it after a week.
007n7 worked under Eunoia with Mafioso for five years, until c00lkidd was ten. However, on the day of his tenth birthday, he was unable to be found. 007n7 ran himself dry searching for his child, putting off his duties in the Mafia and devoting the search for c00lkidd as his first priority. He quit his day job, pouring all of his Robux into resources that came up to blanks. It was as if c00lkidd had dropped off the face of Robloxia– he was nowhere to be seen, found, heard. The Mafia tried to find him. Tried to offer their help– blanks . Nothing. All of it came to nothing . Nothing except the possibility of death. 007n7 refused to believe that someone would do that. To c00lkidd? His sweet baby? He had just turned ten, and he was the sweetest thing that 7n7 had ever met. He can’t believe that he’d raised such a lovely child. He can’t believe that someone would take him away, and not ask for anything. He put up ads, missing posters, and had temporarily gone back to exploiting in hopes of finding him. Nothing. He was simply gone .
Mafioso reached him with many different numbers. 007n7 blocked all of them, but refused to change his number. c00lkidd had gotten a phone, courtesy of Eunoia, for his eighth birthday. He and c00lkidd had spent the entire day setting it up and personalizing it for him. His own red phone case that he had decorated himself. His own red app icons and personalized ring tones. He still had voicemails from c00lkidd when he first tried to call him, not knowing that 007n7 hadn’t picked up, just talking like he was listening. He was joy . He was happiness. Not just his personality, but to 7n7. Nothing else mattered when c00lkidd became his, not even himself.
He wondered if Mafioso’s gang and Eunoia would find him this time. He had circled back to his house– their house , after jumping apartment after apartment, trying to get away from Mafioso’s goons– his friends . But he was so terribly sentimental. It had to end where it started. He broke down the minute he saw c00lkidd’s door. He dragged himself, snot dribbling from his nose and tears staining his face, sliding down his chin and wetting the wood vinyl. 7n7 reached up, weakly grabbing the knob with his fingertips– and turned.
The strong scent of dust flooded his nose immediately. The old scent that came with any memory swirling with c00lkid’s scent. The scent of the apple body wash that he always used– and the cinnamon cologne that he had stolen from 7n7 when he was six. He felt like he was drowning. He wanted to drown in that scent, forever. He wanted to press his son’s face into his chest and rest his cheek on his head. He wanted to see c00lkidd prod at his stubby horns, claiming that he’d have ones like 7n7 one day. He never had the heart to tell him that he added those for him, that he wasn’t born with them; because it didn’t matter. c00lkidd was his, through and through. From the begrudging love of blue that 7n7 had unintentionally given him, to the love of apples from 7n7’s stories of his own childhood obsession. Even copying his favorite drakoblox when he had claimed it was the greatest thing ever at seven years old.
7n7 weakly clutched the carpet, digging his blunt fingers into the short fluff. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine that the carpet was his son’s short fur. He could imagine that the painful, dull scent of memories were clothes from his closet, and the scent of cinnamon apples was c00lkidd, buried in clothes that would now, never get to fit him.
He weakly raised his head, slamming it into the soft carpet. It did nothing. It didn’t hurt. It just made him feel more pathetic than he already was– sitting here, clutching the carpet, half-collapsed on the floor in an awkward pose. c00lkidd would laugh at him. He wished, more than anything, that he would.
Slowly raising himself from the floor, he kept his head down. He couldn’t bear to look at his son’s room– frozen in the chaos that he had left it in, looking as if at any moment, he would come back upstairs and continue making his toys fight the drakobloxxers. His stomach twisted; pulling and tugging. He… he couldn’t help it. He’d made up his mind, and this had reminded him of just how much his son mattered. He couldn’t do this without him. It’s been a month. A month of avoiding this house, his room like the plague. Avoiding the undeniable truth about c00lkidd’s absence. He was gone , and he wasn’t coming back. 7n7 told himself this, over and over, no matter how much it hurt. No matter– no– he jerked up suddenly, pulling away from c00lkidd’s room and turning toward the hallway.
His hands flew to his stomach, his eyes clenched closed as he heaved once, twice– a light brown sludge, resembling oatmeal splattered onto the vinyl, staining his dark grey, dirty pants. His hands fell to the floor, on either side of the pre-existing pile of vomit as he began to dry heave. The acidic scent of his puke only prompted it more. He was drooling uncontrollably– he can’t remember the last time he ate. Maybe yesterday when he forced down a burger, only to puke it back up. c00lkidd loved burgers, but insisted that the Meat Lover’s pizza was the best thing ever made. With this in mind, 7n7 pulled his phone out of his back pocket.
He dialed a number he knew by heart due to c00lkidd’s insistent demands. Builder Brother’s Pizza. Elliot picked up the phone. Or was his name Elias? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t care. He ordered a large Meat Lover’s. Gave the address, then didn’t give him any time to deny. He didn’t know if he’d get the pizza. He wanted the memory of c00lkidd to greet him in death. He wanted to be surrounded by the memory of him. He swiped his hand in a familiar pattern, the c00lgui glitching into existence. He typed casually, as if he were still the same man he was over a decade ago, messing around with no greater purpose in life. A gun dropped into his hand, the cold silver grating softly against his palm. He was ready. But… not yet…
7n7 slowly adjusted himself, turning around to face c00lkidd’s room. He opened the door farther with his foot. He wouldn’t go inside, he wouldn't ruin the carpet, indented with the story of when c00lkidd last walked in. He wouldn’t sit on the bed that had the same untouched sheets his baby had pushed back that morning. He wouldn’t tip his toys stuck in the pose he left them in– a story that never got to reach its conclusion. He felt like his body was freezing, goosebumps riding up on his arms as he stared out into the room, lost in his mind. He thought about everything and nothing, all at once. He paid no mind when he felt the tears rolling off his chin, hitting his hands. Hitting the gun. He sat there until he heard the doorbell. Then, he slowly stood up. Stepping past the unimpressive pile of puke, he went down the stairs and rounded the edge toward the front door. 7n7 took out his wallet. He grabbed everything inside, Gift cards for Chuck-e-cheese, Mcdonalds, and Dave n Busters included.
His gun slipped inside his back pocket. Before Elliot could get a word in, he handed him it all. He got a glimpse of the four twenties and six fives before he gave the man, not much younger than himself, a shaky smile. He took the pizza and closed the door. Elliot never got a word in.
7n7 walked himself up the stairs, marching like he had a purpose. The pizza was clutched firmly in his hands, the scent mingling with the acidity of his puke and the old scent of c00lkidd. He placed the pizza at c00lkidd’s door frame, pushing it just barely inside the room. He picked up a slice, shakily holding it up to the empty room.
“Happy 10th Birthday, c00lkidd,” he tried his hardest to ignore the way his voice broke. Pretended that c00lkidd was throwing a tantrum, and he was trying to make himself forgiven. He tried, so hard, “I know… I’m a bit late. I’m so.. I’m sorry, baby. I– I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t– I could never forget. I didn’t. I just… I needed time. And you did too. But you can come home now. I have pizza for you… you know their numbers. Mafioso, Eunoia, Contractee, Soldier, Caporegime, Linguini…” he trailed off with a small smile of how he met the six.
“They’ll take care of you. It’s my fault you’re too scared to come back. But I’ll be gone. I’ll let– I’ll let you be happy with them, okay baby?” He stood up shakily, having to lean against the door frame to stand straight.
“I love you so much. I’ll see you soon, I promise honey. I’m so– I’m sorry about everything.” He took a step back. The soft, light red of c00lkidd’s walls. He took two steps– the bright red of his sheets and comforter, then three steps– the jagged marks of sharpie along his door frame— from his first birthday to his ninth. His tenth was never marked. 7n7 feels like a failure.
Five, six, seven, eight, nine. He opens his door. He was never too far from c00lkidd— what if his baby needed him? Ten. He stepped into his room. He walked into his bathroom. He closed the door and looked at himself. He pulls the gun out of his back pocket. He hears the doorbell rings, and a strange fear washes over him. Mafioso? Eunoia? Contractee? Someone, anyone else? He didn’t want to know. He didn’t. 7n7 looked at himself for what he hoped would be the last time.
Long, uneven hair. A stubborn stubble that seemed to reappear just hours after shaving. His flipped septum that he kept from c00lkidd— he didn’t want to influence him too much. His lopsided burger hat— his red and black horns prodding out. Would c00lkidd have horns like this if he had grown up? He didn’t want to think about it. He hopes not— he’s messed up enough. He grabs the gun, switching the safety off. There’s banging on his front door— so loud that he can hear it from his closed door upstairs. He brings the gun under his chin. He looks at himself.
7n7 feels like a coward, but it’s in his nature. Human nature. Everyone fears death, even if they don’t realize it until the last moment. 7n7 tried to calm his raging heartbeat, closing his eyes as the cold, thick metal kissed the underside of his chin.
And as he pulls the trigger, he wonders if c00lkidd realized he feared death more than loneliness before he left 7n7. Shame, he couldn’t choose between the two. Death is the loneliness thing anyone will ever know.
Chapter 2: New beginnings
Summary:
The relation between ex business partners is revealed. A child is blamed for actions out of his control. Guilt is a universal pain.
Notes:
hi. yeah. i lose… this will me longer than just 2 chapters … fuck….. i’m enjoying this too much.
i edited this after my mother told me i have to walk home from work at 10 pm. i love my life. the ao3 curse will never trump me.
ps. if you call out one of my references, i will write something into this story for you; as long as it isn’t too outlandish.
Chapter Text
It’s not a big secret– but it definitely isn’t one very well known.
When 007n7 shot himself straight through his brain, he didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to be dead, so he was.
At least, he thought so.
However, waking up collapsed on the floor surrounded by odd strangers– some of which he recognized, proved that he was either very much alive, or in hell. He had changed his mind when Elliot appeared. He highly doubted that Elliot, who was very much alive when he had last seen him, would be in hell with him.
He was alive. And the realization depressed him more than he feels comfortable with. It didn’t take long for him to grow accustomed to this odd, purgatory-like world. He had discovered that not everyone had died to end up here. Elliot had apparently fallen asleep in his room and woke up on the floor of the cabin. Guest had the same fate. Shedletsky’s wings had apparently failed him, causing him to spiral downward with him falling unconscious mid-air, waking up here. Builderman and Dusekkar were assumedly still alive in the real world. Chance, Noob, Taph, and himself had not yet shared their stories. Chance, who had been overjoyed when he met 007n7 once more, hurriedly informing him that he had been forsakened and that was the reason for his sudden absence, had brushed it off each and every time someone hinted at curiosity related to their forsakening. They’d attempt to quickly to change the topic, which led to the others quickly catching on, and stopping their pursuing for answers.
Noob insisted that their forsakening was nothing significant– but refused to elaborate on further detail. Elliot forced the others to stop pushing– and given that the worker was their only practical, on the move healer, none of them were in any place to disagree or insist otherwise.
Taph, who he hadn’t heard a word from, fairly certain that the man was mute, and suddenly very grateful for c00lkidd’s old non-verbal meltdowns, would go still when his forsakening was questioned. He wouldn’t confirm or deny anything, which made the possibilities all the more unsettling. 007n7 could sympathize, although Taph seemed to hate him as passionately as 1x4– an entirely different can of worms– hated Shedletsky.
1x4. The name had felt so achingly familiar in 007n7’s mouth– even more so in his mind. A glimpse at the killer helped him remember not. He was confused, annoyed with his lack of remembrance– until one night, where Shedletsky was retelling a dramatic reenactment of 1x4’s ‘disrespectful, lame pranks.’
The abilities in the panel were too specific to be coincidences. Turning chicken into rubber. Replacing talon filers with an open flame. Itching power in the shape of small ticks for avians. The name just slammed the nail in like a metaphorical hammer.
“–and, get this! It had some stupid name like– uh– j0kegui? Like some poor copy of 007n7’s stuff!” The ex-hacker paid no mind to the comparison, and the resulting glances. j0kegui. j0ke…gui. The emails. The outrageous amounts of Robux, from seemingly nowhere. Being ignored.
Oh dear Robloxia, he made the gui 1x4 used to humanely torture Telamon with. 007n7 couldn’t decide between being horrified, and being extremely worried about his safety if the admin were to find out. He wouldn’t get the chance to decide, it seems– because his vision swiftly faded to black– just slow enough to see Guest flinch and Shedletsky throw his head back, in what was presumably a groan before his body thumped as if being ragdolled. He slowly blinked, more confused than anything. He had been keeping an ear out for the typical ping sound of a round starting in forty or so seconds– although he was usually made aware five minutes before the round took place. He would’ve never missed the sound. He disregarded Taph’s stabbing glare. What would happen this round? A killer wasn’t announced– typically being shown with a name or signature sound. Laughter, glitching pop-ups. Corrupted buzzing. Simple slashing. However, there was none of that this time. Another glance at his gui showed something confirming his fears for an alternative round– everyone was here. That only happened when new killers were shown– rounds hardly ever being filled aside from that. 007n7 bit his tongue, his stomach churning nervously. Last time this had happened, c00lkidd was shown as a killer. 007n7 doesn’t like to remember how he was during, and after that. No one else talks about it.
007n7 jogged toward a dark, thick, packed generator shielded by a wall in the front, and a half-wall on the right. He leaned down, swiftly untangling and connecting wires as Taph set up his traps in the main doorways, a tripwire and subspace bomb for each. He glanced at his gui again. Noob was dead. Elliot was at 49%. 007n7 swiftly completed the generator, and began the process of cloning as he heard shouts quickly approaching his direction. He directed his clone forward, to the left side of the map as he waited for the survivors to approach. Elliot arrived first, staggering past 007n7 and grabbing a medkit Taph had to offer with trembling hands. The father watched Chance run straight forward into a dead-end room, and winced when a flying projectile was thrown from out of view. Chance stumbled out of the room, horror seen in their dark red eyes from their tilted shades. He had a love-hate relationship with the Horror Hotel; the dead-end rooms being a good reason for the hate.
“Allow me to increase your debt,” What.
The former Mafia member froze, an odd mix between hope and terror bubbling in his chest. That was his voice. That was Mafioso– how… what was he doing here? And as a killer, no less? He froze when Mafioso slowly turned the corner, blood dripping from his temple– where exactly, not known due to the dramatic shadow his fedora created, shading his eyes. Despite the lack of visible eyes– 7n7 swore that he could tell the exact moment that Mafioso had recognized him.
“Sette?” His voice intoned slowly, hesitantly as if he wasn’t certain of what he was seeing. 007n7 froze further under his sight, uncomfortably aware of the presence of the survivors not far from him, watching the two.
“Maf…” He replied slowly, his voice quaking as he dryly swallowed. Mafiosos slowly sheathed his sword, walking up to 007n7 with, to anyone else, would’ve seemed to be a slowly drawn pace. However, 007n7 could see the restraint that each footstep carried.
“Sette.” Mafioso repeated as if the words had never rolled off his tongue. 007n7 shrunk under his gaze. Mafioso was unbothered by this, appearing to be drinking up every aspect of his appearance. No one interrupted.
“You died,” he says simply as if he hadn’t just revealed 007n7’s unofficial, official secret, “you killed yourself.” Way to rub salt into the wound. He didn’t need to look over at the crowd of survivors to know that they were gaping at the boss’ words.
“Yeah. I did,” he said lamely, his shoulders shaking with emotion, and the primal fear that comes with living this same scenario repeatedly. Mafioso took notice of this– because of course he did.
“Relax, Sette. You are my partner,” Shedletsky– or was that Chance? Choked audibly in the background, “I would never harm you. I’m… sorry that you felt like you were unable to depend on me when it mattered.” He paused awkwardly, as if unable to process and discuss his emotions.
“I missed you, very much. So did my boys. We never stopped searching for coolkid, you know. Turns out, he was here all along.” Mafioso stopped, his head slowly tilting, and– ears? Wilting as if he were nervous, “I wish we could be on the same team, like in the old days. He told me… we would all be free if I did this.” 007n7’s expression wavered.
“Did what?” He asked, despite himself.
“Killed the survivors, and collected their debths. I don’t think…” Mafioso paused. The survivors all waited, with bated breath. “I think–” his voice was coming out unevenly, wavering so unlike himself. 007n7 took an uneasy step back. The survivors stepped forward, Chance’s flintlock raised and Guest’s fists clenched.
“You,” Mafioso’s head snapped toward the bunch of survivors, his body shaking furiously, and ears pressed down low– threatened, or threatening was the question, “you all need to leave, or I will kill you. Go. I will not hurt Sette. Leave us.” No one moved– aside from Elliot who ran, with Taph turning tail and following. However, Shedletsky arrived with Dusekkar not far behind him. Mafioso’s head jerked suddenly. Then his arms. Then his ears. Then his hands– and suddenly his arm was raised and he was throwing a bunny from under his hat. Then, he was forward. Then he was stunned– suddenly his arm was around Guest’s neck. Then Chance’s. Then he was on Shedletsky’s sword– and suddenly Dusekkar and Shedletsky ran. This left Mafioso and 007n7 with the empty corpses of Guest and Chance, who had tried so valiantly to fight back. Faintly, 007n7 felt sick. The two were the only ones that he really considered friends– and they died because of his other friend. His business partner.
“I… I am sorry. I didn’t want to do that, you know. It just happened. I told them to leave.” Mafioso bowed his head, his floppy ears drooping, “I’m sorry, Sette.” 007n7 smiled at him, despite the uncomfortable churning in his gut.
“It’s alright. Come here,” 007nn7 gestured Mafioso over, and the man’s ears perked up before he approached, hunching over himself. He threw his arms around 007n7 in a one-sided hug. The ex-hacker blinked.
“I wanted… to look at your code. But–” Mafioso made a move to pull away, “a hug… is in order. It feels like it’s been years, Maf.” The boss didn’t argue with his claim, simply relaxing himself onto the father as 007n7 placed a five-fingered hand on his chest before swiping it onto his red c00lgui panel. He scrolled for what felt like forever, humming softly with the familiar glow of knowledge and excitement in his eyes. Mafioso watched with his own half-lidded.
007n7 rewrote, deleted, and revised code for what felt like hours, but was logically mere minutes. The work that the script demanded called for far more than mere minutes though. Luckily, 007n7 wasn’t regarded in the light he was for nothing. He saved a copy of the script in his gui, then promised to install the fully rewritten code into Mafioso when he was done. When the timer hit zero, and he was sent to the lobby, pandemonium hit– but none of them were faster than Chance.
007n7 didn’t have the chance to find his footing before he was forcefully raised, straightened, then shaken furiously.
“Sev! What the fuck, man! You didn’t tell me you knew Mafioso! You didn’t tell me that you were his partner— or that you were affiliated– working with– the fucking Mafia!” Chance exclaimed, pulling 007n7 uncomfortably close to his face, his shades sliding down just enough for 007n7 to catch a glimpse of the burning red eyes. The father gulped, suddenly self-consciously aware of all the prying eyes surrounding him, watching him.
“Well… it never really came up? I mean, nothing ever happened in the Burger King to, um, spark conversation about that…” 007n7 muttered the weak attempt of a defense. Chance’s eye twitched before they pulled themself away from 007n7’s face.
“So. Let me get a few things straight–” Elliot opened his mouth, stepping closer to the two with a sound just barely escaping his mouth before Chance grabbed 007n7’s burger hat– which a couple of survivors hadn’t known was removable– and chucked it at Elliot, sending the man staggering back with confusion evident in his face.
“Let the coworkers talk, cash crust,” Chance drawled before his eyes switched targets, his pupils seeming to expand behind his shades– not that anyone would know, as Chance used his pointer finger to casually push them back up along his nose bridge.
“That car. The real sleek black one that you told me was an uber– was that–”
“Yes… are you seriously asking me about that car when there–”
“Ah, ah ah. Let the detective work.” No one bothered to attempt to correct the fact that they were not a detective– not to mention that someone with a gambling addiction would make for quite the poor investigator. Despite their silence, they could all feel Chance’s passing glare filled with knowing.
“My first day. I owed $19,000 something and didn’t have the Robux. Was that money from–”
“It wasn’t mine… not really. It was, uh, Mafioso’s. He insists I carry ‘studs’ with me in case I get ‘caught in a tight spot,’ whatever that means…” 007n7 muttered. Chance’s eyes narrow.
“Are you two dating? Well– okay, that was a stupid question,” 007n7 doesn’t have the chance to startle at the claim before Chance is already contradicting himself. 007n7 sighs with relief.
“He literally called you his partner… okay, this one should’ve been the nail in the coffin but I need to know. Around a year after working together– I pulled up to your house because I needed a place to stay and you weren’t answering your phone. There was some real loud door slamming, then, like five–”
“Yes,” 007n7 sighed, his hand coming to pinch between his eyebrows, “those idiots overstayed regardless. They have their own base and still tried to crash at my house because ‘they got lonely,’ as if they all don’t live with each other.” Chance raised an eyebrow, “you don’t live with your partner?” 007n7 slowly met Chance’s eyes, “I don’t think we’re using partner in the same context, Chance. Maf called me his partner, because we’re work partners. We were a duo.” Chance’s expression lightened as if finally coming to an understanding. 007n7’s head jerked to the side at the sheer audacity, his face flushed with the embarrassment of the thought– he does not have a crush on his work partner.
“What!” 007n7 shouted, his face flushed to the point of generating warmth, “y-you thought–” he turned to look at the other survivors, many of which had averted their eyes, “you all thought that we were dating? and you were just… okay with it?!” Chance crossed their arms, “well… clearly not! He’s like, a worse, bigger, emotionally stunted version of me! If you were dating him then you’d have to– not date him. And date me instead. If you were dating him, that is.” Chance quickly lost confidence in his words, their face flushing and shoulders slowly shrinking. Shedletsky looked at him with quiet disbelief for his audible fumble.
“Okay… twenty questions over, I’m starving, Elliot make us some food!” Shedletsky chimed, jumping in the air while pointing at the unfortunate worker. The young adult sighed quietly before walking over to the kitchen, dragging his feet while Taph signed swiftly, complaining about the continuous dinners of pizza. No one understood, or attempted to, aside from Dusekkar who nodded slowly in solemn understanding for his dislike of pizza. Taph’s shoulders dropped as he slowly walked toward the stairs.
007n7 managed to slip away somehow between the occasional glances from Chance, the piercing, curious gazes from Elliot, and the oddly constant staring of a wide-eyed Two Time. He hadn’t managed to escape without their watchful eyes dragging with the movement of his body as he swiftly slipped out the main cabin. He trusted Two Time to not rat him out… for a few hours, hopefully. In the meantime…
The ex-hacker– forever a software engineer refined in the ways of code, held out his hand, waving it to the right before curving it upwards and sliding his hand down. The c00lgui appeared right under his fingertips as if it were the most natural thing in the world. There was no time to delve on the word choices of Chance– that had admittedly been lingering in his mind– or how he felt about the entirety of the survivor group mistaking him and his coworker to be a couple– part of him thinks that he wouldn’t have minded the continued misunderstanding– there was only room for focus. As if activating a natural part of his mind, 007n7 allowed his thoughts to slip off of him, rebounding in the darkness as the code– repeating zeroes and ones, lines of data and commands– sped past his eyes at an incomprehensible speed to anyone other than himself.
Do you remember the initial intro to the first chapter? “Despite what the numerous Roblox myths about him may claim; 007n7 was not the best hacker to ever live. In fact, he was sloppy, arrogant, and cocky,” take those words, fold them into a beautiful crane, soak it in oil, cover it in peanut butter, place it in a blender, then mold it, freeze it, and shove the cubes up your ass.
Very well known to all of the survivors– 007n7 has terrible self esteem. He questions his every move and decision, insists that he could’ve done more, could’ve done better than the most he was capable of. He squirms his way around comments and backfires them onto others, drowning them with renewed praise and redirecting their thoughts. He doesn’t do this with the intention to manipulate– but with the intention to avoid.
007n7 was one of the best hackers to exist— and that kind of thing doesn’t leave you so easily. His gui was roped from the admin Telamon and infused with his own code. Self-thinking, proactive, generative. The c00lgui that the man was tethered to in this odd purgatory had nothing on the real gui. But– 007n7 wasn’t nothing with the absence of his beloved tool. He used the c00lgui to simplify what he could already do.
007n7 poured hours into repairing, rewriting, and deleting. He scanned every minute detail, running parts of the code to ensure proper function. He guessed hundreds of passwords to gain access to a higher panel– not quite the level the Spectre was on, but not very far, either. It would take far longer for 007n7 to conclude the code and or commands that were keeping them here. But– he would get to it. He just needed to untether everyone, string by string, letter by letter. Mafioso was only the first step. 007n7’s chest stung, and he found himself feeling breathless with the elation of intelligence and understanding of a goal. An ambition. Yes, this was his now. He will free them– or try his damndest at the least– and he wouldn’t quit on this. Not like the time where he swore he would get numerous jobs to pay his debt back honestly.
Even if there was a cheat code, the Spectre would have it covered, no?.. What even is the entity containing them in this realm. A God? Admin? Fellow– An exploiter? Something with an incomprehensible amount of power, if it were able to contain three admins, and functionally bring back the dead with seemingly no cost.
What made them special? 007n7 furrowed his eyebrows. Focus. You can’t afford to take more time than you have. Sticking his hand out to the right, he went through the familiar motion swiftly. Right, curve up, wave down. The c00lgui– a simple screen now limited to a menu in the cabin, showed a small number of options. 007n7 sightlessly pressed AFK mode– the survivors would be fine without him. They always seemed to be.
007n7 dismissed the menu with a flick of his hand while he typed furiously with his left before seamlessly blending his right hand into his typing, the reflection in his glasses shielding his eyes as he focused himself solely on his work.
As previously said; 007n7 is known to have terrible self esteem. Not to mention, he was likely the quickest with generation completion from years of experience swiftly handing his gui. He was also an excellent distraction, giving others time to flee from danger. Not that anyone aside from Chance and Guest would admit that last part, though.
c00lkidd, despite his terrifying status as an oddly brutal killer, was also extremely childish. This was made clear with not just his words, but also due to the fact that he became all the more brutal; intent on swiftly wiping out the survivors when his father wasn’t in the bunch. With 007n7– c00lkidd would draw out the round, giggling and slowly chasing after his father– who possessed only a blurry memory of him. c00lkidd was insistent that this was an odd game his father made up.
However… without the former hacker, c00lkidd had managed to convince himself that he needed to swiftly eliminate all the others in order to have more time to search for his father. So, the dozen or so rounds where c00lkidd forced himself into the killer position repeatedly, quickly became hell for the survivors. Not to mention– 007n7 was the only one able to use the menu, having the ability to AFK others, know when a round was about to start, and know who the killer would be. With his absence in favor of rewriting code, the survivors felt like headless chickens during and after their rounds. And it didn’t help that despite their repeating words that 007n7 was occupied, and that he would come back in his own time– c00lkidd persistently killed as if it would change something. As if it would make 007n7 appear and he would play tag once more.
Elliot was having a particularly hard time with this. It was no secret that the child was a terrible targetter; typically gunning for Elliot whilst complaining about his and his father’s blacklisting from the pizzeria, insisting that he would stop if he would just raise the ban! Not that he ever did. Elliot’s stony behavior towards 007n7 clearly saddened the ex-hacker, and c00lkidd wouldn’t stand for it.
So this wasn’t a very unusual scene. Elliot was running from c00lkidd after the child had missed his Corrupt Nature, causing him to pause for a moment before giving chase to the worker. Per usual, Guest intervened with his chase, blocking his hit when he moved in before punching and forcing c00lkidd back, effectively stunned. Then, he lagged behind while Chance and Builderman took off after Elliot– an odd, patchwork protection squad that kept the worker alive for a better chance to win the round. Not that Elliot cared that they used him for survival– he did the same with them, in his own way.
As they turned a corner into one of the couple square platforms in Planet Voss, Builderman began building a dispenser while Chance flipped his coin, sweating nervously from his undoubtedly stacking weakness. He adjusted his hat before picking it up and flipping it, placing it back firmly on his head. They appeared to be renewed, and resumed their flipping.
Elliot hobbled over to a generator– partially completed with one more puzzle to go. As Builderman and Chance engaged in quiet, idle chatter, a booming circus-esque music shattered the tense calm the three had soaked in. Two pizza men forced both Chance and Builderman out of the area, while c00lkidd ran straight for Elliot. Chance, after gaining enough distance, raised his flintlock and narrowed his eyes hesitantly before shooting– missing and puncturing the white walls instead. Chance chuckled nervously, a reflex on their part, before turning tail and running with Builderman. Elliot ran to do the same, dodging c00lkidd’s aggressive swipe and stepping towards one of the four entrances before doubling back, causing c00lkidd to go flying forward while Elliot ran out the right exit.
“No fair! No fair, no fair, no fair!” c00lkidd exclaimed, whining childishly as he shakily picked himself up off the floor before dashing toward Elliot’s presumed direction. Elliot, hidden behind a wall, peeked out from the corner to see that the killer was nowhere to be seen. He ducked back behind the wall, sighing out of relief.
“So, what are we hiding from?”
Elliot’s eyes snapped open as c00lkidd giggled maniacally, slashing Elliot violently as the man stumbled from his poorly hidden area, clutching over his chest and using his arm to stabilize his grip. He ran as fast as he could with his limp– realizing c00lkidd was speed walking behind him– not attempting to kill him just yet. Toying with him. Elliot grit his teeth, restraining his words.
“Pizza man!” he exclaimed, drawing out his words with a joyful giggle at the end, “where are we going? Are you leading me to dad? Finally!” c00lkidd chirped, uncaring of Elliot’s clear suffering and internal terror. Having finally saved his stamina, and seeing a group of survivors nearby rapidly approaching, the worker broke into a sprint, blending with the numerous people who bombarded c00lkidd with attacks.
“You’re all no fun! I’m telling dad!” he wails as the group flees. When c00lkidd is finally able to move once more, he is immediately frozen with the ringing sound of Chance’s flintlock. Chance winks while c00lkidd growls, screaming that his father would hear about this.
The killer continues to give chase, giving Noob and Taph the time to complete the four remaining generators. Shedletsky drops a medkit by Elliot who gives him a pizza in return, kneeling down and swiftly wrapping the bandages around his wounds. As he attempts to finish up, c00lkidd comes crashing through with his pizza minions once more. Elliot is quickly becoming irritated as he watches the child strangle Builderman, who was too slow to move, before throwing him against a wall and listening to his empty body rebound.
c00lkidd refocuses his attention onto the worker, and Elliot can only groan loudly, unimaginably overstimulated and angered with the child’s insolent behavior.
“This is why your dad killed himself,” the words exit Elliot’s mouth without thought. Not a shout, but a quiet, harsh whisper to himself. It made him feel better about the situation, in an odd, twisted way. c00lkidd was a killer who had caused his father’s suicide, however unintentional. Elliot was simply an employee at a pizzeria who happened to be unfortunately acquainted with 007n7.
However, unlike previous times where Elliot had harshly whispered the words under his breath, content with the confusion on c00lkidd’s face, unaware of the weight and truth of his words, the killer froze this time. Elliot did as well– but not for a breath, or to regenerate his stamina. In fact, he had only been poised to run, not truly taking off just yet. Shedletsky froze near him as well, slowly dragging his eyes toward the worker.
“Haha! What’d you say! Say that again, mister!” the killer baits, his typical carefree laughter tinged with insanity now carrying a heavier weight. Elliot swallows nervously, “I didn’t say anything,” he excuses weakly. c00lkidd pauses, staring down at him with uncomfortably large eyes from his hunched over stature, staring down at Elliot when the worker could so clearly remember a time where he barely reached his knees.
“Say it again. I dare you,” c00lkidd whispers sharply, the words a guaranteed painful death for Elliot. The worker swallows dryly, his eyes horrifyingly stuck on c00lkidd’s. At the worker’s silence, a large, painful smile paints the killer’s face.
“He didn’t. Say he didn’t. Tell me you’re lying, do it. Don’t tell me those lies.” He can feel Shedletsky’s eyes on him, pushing him to tell the killer it was a lie. That it was a goad to shock c00lkidd into a stun, and that it had worked. But the worker can’t bring himself to. Elliot knows he’s doomed. There’s slightly more than a minute left on the timer. The survivors will win regardless.
“I’m… it’s not a lie. It isn’t,” there’s the sound of someone clicking their tongue, undoubtedly Shedletsky who had been hoping that Elliot would simply lie.
“You don’t know that! You have– there’s no proof! Stop lying to me, stupid pizza man!” c00lkidd shrieks, his eyes shrunken and clearly occupied with denial, denial, denial as if he can’t bear to comprehend the thought that he had forsakened his father. Elliot purses his lips, before speaking hesitantly.
“I know that, because I was there.” Shedletsky’s mouth pops open, staring at Elliot with disbelief before looking over at c00lkidd, seeming entertained as if he were watching a TV program. The killer doesn’t avert his gaze from the worker. Elliot is now looking down, as if unable to meet the shame of not stopping fate sooner.
“What..? No. No–” c00lkidd murmurs hysterically to himself as Elliot continues speaking, relaying the events to the child.
“He ordered pizza, then hung up before I could say anything. I rushed over there with it, to give him a piece of my mind for the audacity, or whatever. He gave me a ridiculous amount of money, and random gift cards to your favorite places. There was a missing poster on his front door, of you.” Elliot clenches his hands into a fist, the ticking sound of the time counting down pressing down on him.
“He turned around and closed the door. There was a gun in his… in his back pocket,” Elliot was having trouble breathing, but preserved. He quickly stumbled out the rest, the secret he had been keeping spilling out of the broken dam, “I was confused. A little scared. I knocked again. I waited a bit longer. I was mad and scared, I had no answers so I rang the doorbell. I knocked furiously. I had my hand on the knob when I,” Elliot’s voice wavered audibly, but he continued on with the same strength and importance, “–when I heard the gunshot. I rushed in. The only thing on his head that was… identifiable, was his burger hat,” the worker smiled shakily, looking up slowly. Ten seconds.
“His little… stupid noob thing was so scared. Shaking. 007n7 haunted me in my mind for a week, before I woke up here.” Elliot looks up at c00lkidd finally. The child is hunched over himself, his claws clutching his head, knocking at his protruding horns.
“You didn’t save him…” Are the last words Elliot hears. Said so quietly but with so much weight for someone as young as he. When Elliot respawns, he swiftly exits the main area in a fashion not unlike 007n7. Elliot isn’t to blame for his death, is he? He couldn’t have made it. 007n7 was known for this— whatever he wanted, he would get. He clutched his ambitions with a stone fist, unwavering to the last moment. 007n7 wanted to die. So he did. He was dead before he hit the ground. Elliot wouldn’t have been able to stop him. Neither would Mafioso, Eunoia, or any of Mafioso’s men.
Elliot thinks that c00lkidd knows this; but refuses to believe his father died of his love twisted to grief for his child. The oldest sibling knows that c00lkidd isn’t to blame; but he can’t bear to shoulder the weight of the suicide alone.
Chapter 3: Ruin Lives
Summary:
There's a new killer-- people meet for the first time in what seems to be forever. A game is played, but the mood will not remain forever. He gets too comfortable. Should've tried three times instead of two.
Notes:
sorry this. took so long guys i made too many friends and had to play robloc with all of them. but this chapter IS like. 7.2k words. hope ts makes up for it. HAVE FUN READING :3
ALSO!! there is art in this chapter it is lowkey a bad doodle dont read in public if ur scared of getting jumpscared (but dw the images are small)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Children don’t know how to react to what they don’t understand. Children don’t understand loss, and depend on their parents to teach them everything about the world. The loss of your first tooth, the loss of a beloved stuffed animal, or the loss of a distant family member. These experiences eased children into the true pain of loss. These pinches eased children into the devastation of one day, inevitably losing their parents. It was all the more terrible, when you were the cause.
But no. This couldn’t be right! His dad loved him, he told him every night before he was put to bed, and every time he helped his dad make lunch. Why would his dad do such a terrible thing in the name of losing him? Why couldn’t he have devoted his life to trying to find him, instead of dying and not trying harder? c00lkidd didn’t understand. He didn’t know if he wanted to. His head was pounding, and every time he thought of Elliot’s words, he found his retinas burning, and salty tears blurring his vision. He had cried during the numerous rounds he had forced himself into, disrupting the natural, randomized order of the killers to enact a revenge that did nothing to soothe the pain in his chest.
He wanted his dad. He wanted to know that he was okay and alive. More than a few times, the thought of his father being truly dead crept into his mind. He denied it vehemently. c00lkidd would know. His dad wouldn’t leave him like that. Not alone here with these strangers he had never gotten to know, truly. Not here with the large, dark, empty house that he was forced to share with the killers. Right?
His dad knew what he needed. His dad was nice and smelled good and took care of him even when he was accidentally mean. No matter what those stupid survivors said about his dad, he wouldn’t leave him like that! He wouldn’t ! But… he couldn’t shake the thought. The terrifying wonder that plagued him. His dad wasn’t gone– but there was nothing disproving that! He wasn’t in rounds, even when he tagged the survivors really hard and shouted things that would always get his dad’s attention. He must– he must’ve been somewhere else! Maybe he was back at home, waiting for him? That had to be it! He was just waiting for c00lkidd to finish his games, then leave the house with those strange people to come back!
The ex-hacker was missing his c00lgui. Yes, yes , he could very well do everything manually with no trouble, but the amount of time that it took was another thing entirely. The code was so lengthy, with multiple separate categories that needed its own special work. 007n7 hadn’t tampered with internal code since he had coded those horns and tail while he was in the real world with his son. As if conscious, his cursor-tipped tail prodded the clothed meat of his thigh before draping behind him, wagging idly.
Despite the high number of tasks that each area demanded– four days had given him all the time that he needed to nearly complete the rewritten code for his ex-coworker. The last area dealt with his mind, requiring far more concentration and care than any other sections of what made Mafioso function. 007n7 would have to double– triple check his work here. The thought made him groan internally, but he would rather triple check his work, than deal with the possibility of his rewritten code changing Mafioso. So, 007n7 cracked his knuckles and stifled a yawn with his hand to his mouth before rubbing his eyes.
Here he goes.
The world was colorless. Or was this simply black? A void of nothing. Looking down, there was no body attached. Was this a void of true nothingness, or the result of closed eyes? Opening, a grassy floor was seen. Looking up, slowly, as if reborn into a new vessel, the area was observed. Random, singular walls. A hill with steps built into it, leading up. A large, skinny earthy pillar in the middle. Random rocks. A small yet lengthy building made of glass. A small area, raised with stairs leading up. Someone crouched near a generator, untangling wires furiously, yet somehow failing to place them correctly together.
Failing to notice. Walking forward as if automated, hand pulled back before a cake appeared in fingers. Squishy. Sweet. Chucking it forward at the person, why? Who are they? The person reeled back, staring for a brief moment. Horror-confusion-escape. They darted away, narrowly hugging the wall with their movements and gaining a large distance. Blinking, and continuing forward.
Shouts. They were shouting ‘new killer,’ and there seemed to be collective relief from these strangers. While the person ran, stared down at hands. Legs. Body. Hair was on head. Metal body. ‘E’ printed on chest. Looking up slowly, they clutched the cake once more. It was green and seemed to have mold flaking the edges. Poisoned , something said. The previous was slowness. As if it all made sense, a nod was done in reply to this internal voice.
- E was a name that was E’s. Nothing else… E remembered nothing else. Dashing forward and grabbing the nearest survivor, E shoved the cake down their throat. The yellow-bodied employee gagged, choking while attempting to hurl. It was too late; the poisoned cake was doing its job and swiftly draining his stamina while he limped away. E looked back down. Hands were soft. Round. Flexing their fingers, claws jutted out from small slits in the metal. E looked up. The blue-haired man met the look, glaring in return. E shot forward, claws raised. The man blocked the slash, grunting with the effort of doing so.
E got to him eventually, breaking him down after he blocked and punched. Systematically, E got to all of the survivors, cake or claws doing the trick, both needed for the chicken-like survivor. Once it was done, E appeared outside a large, dark structure. Looking at the house briefly, a glance around showed only forest and a dying campfire. E’s eyes flickered forward before walking up the steps of the porch, phishing open the door that wasn’t closed entirely. There were three people E saw immediately. They were in the room to the right. A living room. There was noise coming from the top left. Presumably a kitchen from the sound of pots and pans. From the right room, a pair of eyes darted over to E. E couldn’t see the eyes, but felt them. An oddly familiar presence. The eyes stood up, fast.
Rushing towards E, who backed up out of the cabin, a small look of confusion splashing onto her face. He slowed his pace. He … slowly lowered his arm, staring at E with something akin to horrified realization.
“Eunoia… you don’t remember me?” he spoke, pausing in his sentence as if unsure himself. E blinked slowly. Suddenly, a blunt forced headache was pounding. Slowly reaching up a hand, not replying to the man, E clutched a fistful of hair. Digging nails into softness that wasn’t metal, nor flesh.
“You feel… familiar. Mafia. I remember that,” E spoke softly, stopping sporadically to state something random, as if being flooded with memories, unable to repeat it all at once. E’s other hand snapped up, pulling at hair while curling in as if pained physically.
“Mmghh…” E groaned, teeth snagging on E’s lip before breaking off, breathing heavily. Vision swimming, E’s eyes cracked open. The left, half-lidded, then the right, hardly open. Their eyes faltered, pained at the light from inside the cabin. Mafia man removed his overcoat– if E were more aware, the coat would’ve been pushed away. But the coat came around them softly, blanketing their vision in black. All that was seen was the… no, Mafioso. One of his eyes could be seen from under the shade of his fedora. Worry, fear, and concern. Eunoia… he said. That felt right. Eunoia. Mafioso…
“Mafioso,” she muttered. He looked at her with veiled hope. She locked eyes with him, “I remember, now. Mafioso… I was looking for you. You, 007n7, and our boys… were you here all along? You left me. All of you…” Eunoia whispered to herself, looking away from Mafioso. He leaned forward, his knees touching the deck as he wrapped his arms around his boss.
“We didn’t want to. It’s hard to explain. We… The Spectre brought us here. We don’t know what it is, but it’s powerful. Strong enough to force us all into this… game almost.” Eunoia looked up at him, narrowing her eyes.
“Is 007n7 here?” She asked. There was a question in her statement that Mafioso caught on to. “Yes. But he’s working on something. I have reasons to believe… we can hold onto hope.” Eunoia met his eyes, smiling, “then that’s all I need.” She stood up, slowly, holding her hand out to Mafioso who accepted it. She hoisted him up without a problem.
“Do we all have personal quarters? You may explain further to me there.” Mafioso agreed wordlessly before leading her toward where he and his boys stayed.
There wasn’t much that she hadn’t figured. Twisted entertainment. Killers and survivors. Code being used against them, twisting the killers into doing these things. The code affected each of them differently, making them more willing to go along with what was asked of them. Mafioso believed that he was collecting debts from unwilling owners; with 007n7’s presence snapping him out of it. c00lkidd believes that he’s playing tag– and that they’re falling asleep once he’s tagged them. Jason believes his mother wants him to do this, etcetera.
Once explanations were complete, they didn’t have much time before Eunoia was dragged into another match. E appeared, feeling nothing. Vaguely, Eunoia felt aware. She jerked herself back a few times, but was ultimately unable to fight her own mind. Time flew by, with Eunoia unaware of it all. For minutes that felt like seconds, she appeared back in Mafioso’s cabin. She was troubled to near tears at her actions– but even those she could hardly remember. Eunoia hardly spoke, unlike other killers who mocked with repeated sentences. After a few rounds, Eunoia remembered hearing the survivors shout, warning each other when E was near. It saddened her as much as it relieved her.
This round; something was off. There was another survivor; while the blue-haired one, pizza man, Builderman, and Dusekkar were noticeably absent; leaving only Shedletsky, cola one, the demolitionist, back-stabber, shades, and another . Who that was, E had no idea. Not that there was any care for who it was, as long as they wouldn’t be problematic to kill, it didn’t matter.
E ran towards backstabber, insistent on taking out the problematic one who hid in the background. They were startled, evidently unaccustomed to this strategy. Although they tried to run, E had more stamina than then, grabbing them and squishing the cake before shoving it into their mouth. Backstabber gagged, choking while attempting to puke the cake– a body bumped into E. The killer wasn’t startled, instead pausing before slowly looking back. The person collapsed before E was able to get a good look. Confused, and hoping for an easy kill, E picked up the body, turning them around and grabbing the new cake before– Eunoia paused, confusion rapidly flickering across their face. The cake squished between her fingers and his shoulder as she grabbed 007n7, shaking his shoulders slowly.
“Seven? Seven, what… Seven, what happened? Seven…” she muttered, biting her lip as he raised her hand to his neck, checking his pulse. There was nothing. His body was already cooled. She felt something similar to a stutter in a heartbeat.
“I just found you again. Don’t do this to me,” she whispered, simply holding the body in her arms. Two-time was gone. It didn’t matter to her, not anymore. She simply sat there, fully aware during the round for once, holding the body of her colleague. Her friend . When footsteps slowly approached her, she did nothing, jolting when she was stunned with the shot of a flintlock, but making no other movements. The survivors approached slowly, clearly still hesitant. No move was made to look up. A hesitant voice startled her back to reality.
“Eunoia…” she looked up slowly, a small expression of disbelief written across her face. There stood 007n7, the very man whose corpse she was clutching. Beside him stood Chance, whose flintlock was still excreting steam. But how was this possible?
“...That’s a clone, Eunoia,” That was how. She blinked, feeling no embarrassment as she mechanically stood up, stumbling toward 007n7 for a moment before righting herself, pulling 007n7 into a crushing embrace.
“...You died. I searched for the others.” She fell silent, “I missed you,” she added on as a quiet after thought. After the loss of Natasha, she had been especially sensitive to the thought of abandonment and death. This, undoubtedly, did little to help that. He hoped… that she hadn’t been forsakened in the same way that he had. He hugged her a bit tighter, frightened by the thought.
“I thought it was one of the enemy gangs that were responsible for the absence of the others. For you… there was…” she fell silent once more. She clutched his arm, “don’t do that again. Okay?” 007n7 smiled, exhausted but equally relieved to be reunited with a friend. “Alright, Eunoia.” Chance opened his mouth, likely to question their actions, only for the timer to come down to zero, teleporting Eunoia back to Mafioso’s cabin, and all of the survivors to the main cabin.
007n7 and Chance appeared with unsteady feet, tripping toward each other while Eunoia appeared seated, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. She looked up at Mafioso slowly, “I saw him… he really is alive, somehow,” Mafioso perked up, his ears bouncing up to attention. “He’s back in the rounds? Did he say anything?” He questioned eagerly. Eunoia smiled with a bit of humor in her voice, “Only that the body I was hugging was a clone. I thought he died again, or something.”
Mafioso’s ear flicked, “you know that the survivors respawn, yes?” Eunoia waved him off, “I don’t think they would be coming back as they do if they didn’t respond. I was just… caught off guard, is all. We hugged. The round ended… sadly.” Mafioso hummed thoughtlessly, “I’m the next killer. Is there something you’d like me to tell him, for you? I believe he’s finished my rewritten code. I don’t think he’d have gotten off of AFK mode otherwise.” Eunoia smiled, “wonderful. I can’t wait to see what he’s made this time.”
“Neither can I.”
Once the two have steadied themselves, the dizziness dying down, Chance finds his eyes immediately. 007n7 smiled sheepishly. Chance slowly reaches forward, grabbing the neckline of his sweater vest.
“Why the hell am I surprised! You know way too many damn people! But what the fuck, give us a warning next time!” The four who weren’t in the round glanced with interest. The others outside of Chance and 007n7 looked at them with interest. Taph signs something about a soap opera. Shedletsky absent-mindedly nods in agreement.
“The other new killer! Really! The head of the damn Mafia?! Sev! One was impressive enough, dammit!” Chance exclaims as he furiously shakes 007n7’s shoulders, his head jerking back and forth with his burger hat tipping forward, glasses sliding down his nose.
“I-I’m sorry! I just didn’t expect to see her again– so, I didn’t think it would be relevant? To share?” 007n7 said breathlessly, grabbing Chance’s arms to stop the furious shaking. Chance’s grip tightened before quickly loosening.
“The Spectre has a thing for the Mafia or something, Sev. Any information with them will probably be useful.” Chance quipped, a playful note in his tone, but an underlying seriousness palpable from his expression. 007n7 bit his cheek.
“Well, Mafioso’s boys might be here too. The four of them,” 007n7 blurted. Builderman’s head jerked forward, “ Four ?!”
There’s a longer than usual break between these rounds. Assuming that the multiple back-to-back rounds with Eunoia was a way to get her used to killing, and the survivors used to her tactics. The Spectre always did this when a new killer was introduced– but Mafioso was still a cryptic with his abilities, having only had one round before c00lkidd went on his rampage. They took this break in stride– the next round would be happening tomorrow. While the rest of the survivors dispersed, some going to sleep, others going to eat, and many staying to chat, 007n7 broke off from the group, insistent on heading to his cabin to give the code one last check up. However, Chance intercepted him half-way to his cabin, his hand on his upper arm. 007n7 turned, confused.
“Hey, uh, you keep running off on me, man! I wanted to know if you’d wanna hang out with me?” Chance offered, the bashful smile on his face telling 007n7 that this was an impulsive decision, and not one that he had really thought out. The ex-hacker weighed his options internally. He had double-checked his code the night he finished it, but he had been exhausted from the work it took. However, he did work infamously well even when exhausted. He has doubts that he made a mistake, but it was still better to be safe than sorry. He glanced back at Chance, who was failing to act nonchalant while waiting for him to give his answer. Despite himself, the father smiled at the younger man.
“I have nothing else to do, Chance. I’d love to hang out with you,” 007n7 felt a bit ridiculous saying the words for reasons he couldn’t place, but the wide smile on the gambler’s face took away much of that awkwardness. Chance cleared his throat, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before speaking, “great! Okay, we could uh, play some card games? Or something like that… or if you’d wanna rope some others into doing something? Sorry… I don’t have a ton of ideas.” The ex-hacker patted his shoulder, “we can ask the others if they have any ideas once we’ve gathered them, okay?”
The two then split off, going to ask the other survivors if they’d be interested in a simple game; undecided at the moment. 007n7 got Shedletsky and Guest while Chance got Two Time and Elliot. He smiled hesitantly at the latter, who merely glared at him weakly. Chance called them all to attention, Taph and Noob watching the spectacle in the background.
“Alright! Anyone got any ideas for what we can do? Preferably something that we can do inside. I’m not really up for a buncha cardio, sure you guys aren’t either.” Everyone mumbled agreeing responses. Taph raised his hand from outside the circle, and Noob slowly brought his hand down. Elliot, staring straight at 007n7, raised his hand, “we should play twenty questions.” 007n7 paled mildly while Chance and Shedletsky expressed their interest, Two Time rambling that it would be a wonderful opportunity for them to become even closer. And with that, it was decided. Guest glanced over at him with sympathy radiating from his person. 007n7 couldn’t even muster up a small, exhausted smile.
“I’m starting us off, we’re just gonna jump around with this, ‘kay? Whoever gets asked gets to ask after they answer, but if you don’t wanna answer… you take a shot’a this!” Chance exclaims as he whips out a bottle of rubbing alcohol from behind their back. 007n7 pales further, while Guest’s eyebrows knot together worriedly, “is that really… safe for us to be consuming?” Chance waves his worries off easily, “I finished a bottle in high school, you’ll be just fine, trust me.” Guest regarded them with a hesitant look up and down their person before hesitantly nodding while Chance continued to speak.
“Also! No boring questions. No one gets to rain on my parade today! Nothing boring with boring replies, something interesting! Like, about the past, sex, dating, drugs, the works. Now,” Chance smiles.
“For my first question,” Chance dropped down from where he was standing, joining them in the circle near the fireplace where they had pushed the table back, “007n7! What’s your, uh, dating history!” Chance exclaimed, snapping as he pointed at the man. He blinked, confused yet relieved for the simple question before replying, “I don’t have a very extensive history… I was with a few people in my college years, I had a close friend that was somewhat of a situationship, I think the word is? I haven’t really dated anyone, I would say.” Chance’s expression fell into shock before joy overtook his face, ‘the “friend” must mean Mafioso… thank Telamon they’ve never dated! I’d be his first!’ Shedletsky glanced at Chance, amused as if he knew what he was thinking. 007n7 cleared his throat, attempting simultaneously to flush the bit of pink off his face.
“Right, then I ask next…” he paused, taking a sweeping glance over everyone participating. Shedletsky, Guest, Chance, Elliot, Two Time… Two Time!
“Alright, uh, my question will be for Two Time,” The players glance over at Two Time, who merely tilts their head in question, that same plain smile still painted on. 007n7 falters, unsure of what question he would ask, “what– uh, how was– who’s your favorite person? From your past and now?” He says, his voice faltering and resulting in his question sounding more like an unsure statement.
“What a plain question! It would have to be my late partner, but as of now, Chance is quite the enjoyable presence” they chirp enthusiastically. Chance, who looked as if he were about to make a jab towards Two Time, leaned back, their eyebrows shooting up before swiftly lowering. His smile faltered for the briefest moment into something all too similar to real shock. 007n7 felt mixed about this reaction.
“Guest! Are you religious?” Everyone in the group sighs in unison. They don’t know what else they expected from Two Time– but it definitely should’ve been something along the line of that. Chance frowns, “sorry Times, but I’d say that counts as a basic question, dig in deep!” Two Time tilts their head, seemingly unbothered by the denial. Slowly humming, they look away from Guest before looking back.
“How was the war?” Chance purses his lips, his eyes darting to Guest who jolted at the question. 007n7 is glancing between Two Time and Guest, his mind racing with questions of why the cultist would ask such a thing. Taph can be seen quickly signing to Noob who replies with their own sloppy signs at a far slower pace. After a moment or two of tense silence, Guest slowly responds.
“It was… bad. As all wars are. I could never see people the same after that. To know that people could do such actions to others with only excuses to shield themselves, or with no reasons at all. To know that people without empathy existed in such quantities. To handle and feel the weapons used against them and us. It changes you,” Guest muttered quietly. Two Time seemed genuinely interested in his words, leaning forward with their legs crossed, their elbows resting on their knees. Guest closes his eyes, breathing in deeply before clearing his throat, “right then. Shedletsky, who were you before you were brought here? I feel like, in that aspect, we know nothing about you.”
The man’s smile goes crooked, his eyes glancing away awkwardly, “funny question. I was no one special… you know, a convenience store worker… casual career. Nothing that particular. Definitely,” Shedletsky blurts, his hands jerking in front of him oddly. Taph tilts his head, Noob glances at him as the demolitionist signs something towards them. Shedeltsky glances over.
“ Reminds me, *Chicken feels similar to *Ruler,” He feels a bit sick. A bit more than sick as he glances away from the two of them, hoping that neither noticed his attention on them for a moment. Shedletsky asks his question. Then Guest, then Two Time, Chance, and 007n7. It doesn’t go on for much longer before the group disperses. T– Shedletsky retreats to his room, Builderman following after him quickly while Dusekkar stares at the door they retreated towards with worry. He doesn’t speak with Taph, despite the demolitionist’s insistent signing. Taph is left with Noob, who is just as clueless as he is. The round starts an hour after this.
For Taph, the world is dark. He is dark for he is hidden– which makes his traps easier to place. He likes when c00lkidd is killer because he is bright. It’s easy to tell where he is, despite the demolitionist’s suffering vision. He likes 1x4 because she glows brightly. He does not like Jason– and has decided that he doesn’t like Mafioso. They’re too dark– they blend in too well. Taph’s opinion is reinforced while he’s placing trip wires across the most populated area on the map– where everyone runs through regardless if it’s toward generators, away from the killer, or for items. It’s oddly silent, but it makes sense. The round just started.
The bomb is what illuminates his surroundings the moment after he places it. Planet Voss– despite its oddly new reappearance, is still dark, especially so in the middle now that it’s so much larger. He throws the Subspace Tripmine, stepping back as it illuminates for a moment. There’s a large tree– larger than there was previously. A generator by the tree, he’ll get to that now that– An edge of black is glinted by the bomb’s magenta glow. Taph glances over, doubling back before jerking away from the killer , jumping over his wire and running as quickly as he can. Mafioso breaks through the tripwire as if it were simply string, rushing forward in a blur of black, colliding with Taph and sending him flying towards a white wall. He bounces off the hard surface and breathes in shakily. He ducks behind the wall, but Mafioso is after him like a piranha to blood. Taph doubles back, passing Mafioso in a trick that worked on most killers– but Mafioso grabbed him, tossing his sword almost playfully in his hands before stabbing it through Taph’s throat.
His eyes widen, his hood falling back as his head lurches back, his body struggling subconsciously for those few moments he remains alive, his throat tightening around the length puncturing it as it struggles to breath around it. It dies– but its body continues moving even as Mafioso rips it off his sword and throws it to the side. The killer runs by, and it finally stills, cold.
He finds another one. A glowing, blue somewhat mythical looking survivor. There’s another– in a red uniform. He cares not for names, rushing forward and grabbing the former by the prodding antlers while the latter flies off the generator, hesitating for a minute before throwing a pizza and running. Its eyes flicker towards the pizza. His grip on the antler tightens before he raises his sword, clashing it against the white antler at the base. Too close. It grunts, huffing as he repeatedly thunks his sword into the base of the antler. Once one is removed, he does the same to the other. It's panting, sitting back before scrambling to run. He looks at the antlers in his hands before throwing one towards the fleeing survivor, his arm wound back to throw it with all of his strength. It pierces its head, prompting a choked back, horrified scream. He starts forward once more, a smile jerking onto his face as he grabs the handle of the antler, pulling its head back to look at him. The eyes– no, eye. The other is punctured– stares at him in horror and confusion simultaneously. He feels delighted at the confusion, he thinks. He pulls the antler out. The pumpkin screams weakly, sounding as if it'd never done such a thing before.
He thrusts the antler back inside. Over and over, he does this until it ends up too deep inside, puncturing whatever form of a brain it may have had. Or maybe it died of blood loss. It’s not a concern of his anymore. Mafioso rips the antler out for the last time, placing its body on the edge of the generator, before raising his heel high, and stomping on its head, forcing a booming collision with the generator. Its jaw splits open, the corners of the pumpkin’s mouth tearing, leaving it mouthing at the generator. He lowers his foot, backing away to find the next survivor.
It doesn’t take long. It didn’t run very far, perhaps hoping to recuperate with the other who is now dead. He’s regarded with a look of terror at the blood coating his attire. He doesn’t mind– it’s a nice touch. He cleans his sword with the dirtied exterior of his coat. It doesn’t have the chance to run even as it attempts to juke him, the same as the first. Doubling back on the corner, making unpredictable moves. He grows irritated. This one is quite refined in its ways. No matter. He grips the hilt of his sword with both hands, dashing forward toward it, but instead of attempting to stab, he raises his sword and spins .
The sharpened edge catches onto its face, ripping a large gash of nearly two inches thick on its face. It's shaking now, its hand covering the wound but undoubtedly causing itself more pain, whether intentional or not. It turns– now attempting to outright flee. He grins like the predator he is, his ears lowering sharply behind him as he gives chase. It doesn’t have much stamina left– not with the terror it clearly feels from that simple wound. The two round a corner into a rectangular, white walled area. Trails of blotted blood give the position of his prey away. But– there’s someone on that generator there, isn’t there? Easier prey once he kills the other. He needs to weaken this one.
Mafioso reaches inside his coat, grabbing a money bag from his coat, filled with large, heavy coins, and throwing it at the survivor. It’s started off the generator, glancing up at the killer before turning– to run, as Mafioso will allow for now. But for some incomprehensible reason, it freezes. It says something that he can’t bear to understand for some odd reason. The prey sounds underwater. He doesn’t try to understand– it hurts his head. The prey will pay for that.
He races off to locate the red one. It continues to stare at him, unnerving him unnaturally. Only when he is out of view is he relieved of the odd weight.
His prey can’t believe his eyes. 007n7 stares off toward where Mafioso had disappeared to, chasing Elliot no doubt. 007n7 can’t bear to be worried about that now. He needs– he needs to replace Mafioso’s code. He didn’t seem to recognize 007n7, which is terribly concerning, and judging by the consequences of Taph’s death– the demolitionist may hate him but no one deserves that– this had to be a warning of sorts from The Spectre. Perhaps it picked up on what he was trying to do. The ex-hacker swallows, his stomach swimming with nerves at the mere thought. But he needs to be brave now. He needs– support for his plan, and luckily, Guest and Chance were teleported into this round with him– the two who actually seemed alright with interacting with him.
007n7 doubted that they’d be willing to do this for him– but he had no other choice but to ask. He needed a lot more than a mere moment to do this to the killer. Glancing at his GUI to check the healer’s health, he sighs deeply at the fifty percent that is shown. He hopes that Elliot, perhaps the best juker of the supporters and survivalists, will be able to last long enough for 007n7 to give a run down to the sentinels.
He starts the teleportation module, the small buff allowing him to teleport instantly when not in a chase. The farthest spawn was luckily not a great distance from where Chance and Guest currently were, although they were actively running towards Elliot and Mafioso, undoubtedly attempting to save the team’s only healer. Luckily this helped his cause: killing two birds with one stone.
“Chance! Guest! Wait!” The sentinels stuttered to a stop, looking back at the father who slowed to a jog as he caught up with them, “I know how to stop Mafioso– this– I know him, and it might seem meaningless in a place like this, but the last time I saw him, I broke him out of it. It didn’t work this time. I– I rewrote his code a while ago, I just need you two to stall him for a bit so that I can replace the things with this and refresh–” Guest swiftly puts his hands up, stalling 007n7’s panicked speech.
“Hey, hold on! Isn’t this– dangerous? I thought you put the exploiter life behind you, 007? What about The Spectre? He won’t let you get away with this–” the ex-hacker perks up, licking his dried lips stressfully, “that’s exactly it! I think this is The Spectre’s doing! I started messing with Mafioso’s code a while ago, then there was a new killer– another old friend of mine, and Mafioso suddenly can’t remember me and is brutally murdering the other survivors? This is a warning ,” 007n7 stresses, his hands clenching into fists as sweat drips down his forehead. Chance pops his knuckles with his hands idly, an expression of brief stress gracing his face.
“ A warning ? So why the hell are you still trying this? No offense, Sev, but I really don’t wanna get on the bad side of this thing. Telamon knows what it can do.” 007n7 stutters angrily for a moment, overwhelmed by stress and sense of duty. His hands, pulling at his dangling hair, tighten, his teeth grinding, “ no , Chance. A warning means I’m close to something. A warning means we could escape . Why else would it intervene now ? When I start messing with the code? It knows what I know. Even if it revoked some of my memory or in view, limited my abilities, I’ve messed with this same kind of thing. It knows that, that’s why it's worried.” As if a switch flicked in their brains, the sentinel’s eyes go wide. 007n7 glances down at his gui. Elliot’s health is quickly draining from ten. We can’t save him .
“Are you going to help me or not?” He stresses, feeling terrible about the pressure he’s placing upon the two, but having no other option but them. Chance and Guest glance at each other for a mere moment. Before Guest nods sternly. Chance follows the motion, although clearly less certain. 007n7 pushes down the urge of happiness, instead beginning to run towards the weakened screams of Elliot. Guilt curls in his stomach– they had the time, and opportunities to help Elliot, but– he glances at the medkit in his inventory. No . It’s too late, there’s no place for hope in a place like this, a lesson he should’ve learned a long time ago.
They reach the two, and to be perfectly honest, if 007n7’s actions following his son’s disappearance hadn’t granted him such an insensitivity to gore, he would’ve hurled. Guest looked faintly green, but his eyes were glazed and firm. The ex-hacker had no doubt that disarm and hold , or something similar, was echoing in the soldier’s head like a mantra of command. Chance looked as if he were truly about to puke, their hands trembling for a few moments too long before they clenched them.
The killer threw Elliot to the side. Two health left. Guest and 007 shared a glance and simultaneously, 007 raced forwards toward Elliot while Guest charged into Mafioso, stamina depleted from the lengthy chase with Elliot. Chance inhaled deeply, the tinged scent of iron and raw meat bleeding into their nostrils. They traced the pad of their finger over the trigger before clenching it, the tightly packed gun powder shooting out like a rocket, Chance jolting minimally despite the force while the killer jumped before freezing.
007n7 unpackaged the medkit, flipping it open with lightly trembling hands. One look at Elliot’s hopeless face straightened his hands. One health. It stopped there, luckily, as if a last note of pain for Elliot to suffer before dying as The Spectre expected. Not if 007 could help it. He ignored the slow, haze-pained gaze of Elliot. Eyes slowly dragging along the movements of his hands as if in a trance– as if were the only thing keeping him attached to reality, to life.
The man swiftly swabbed away large messes of gore to give himself a view of the hidden injuries. Elliot’s body was still, breathing shallowly as if it were a chore. 007 elected to not think about that. He elected to not think about anything but his actions. Swab, tightly bandage. Swab, tightly bandage. Swab, tightly bandage. It didn’t need to be amazing, it just needed to be enough to get them through this round. To pay for the pain 007n7 let Elliot feel. There was medicine in the medkit. It did most of the work. Pain killers. Lacking his usual hesitance, 007 gently opened Elliot’s mouth before throwing the pain killers in, plugging Elliot’s noise until the boy swallowed. His stomach shrank in horror. He didn’t let himself feel it yet as Elliot’s eyes were still blurred. He checked his menu. One. Two. Three. He breathed shallowly, his breath shaking. His chest shaking. His hands shaking. The deafening sounds of gun shots, grunts, and punches deafening to him. The gun shots. He stared down at his body, still streaked with blood, hair dirtied, hat nowhere to be seen. He glanced up, seeing the familiar thing, and grabbing it before placing it on his head. Somehow, the rising health bar didn’t affect him as it should’ve. He dragged Elliot’s body behind a nearby wall before laying him against it, hesitating his movements as his heart clenched, subconsciously wanting to comfort the boy further if possible. He swiftly removed his sweater vest, handing it gingerly to the worker.
He ran back to Guest and Chance. The gun shots had stopped by now, Chance’s weakness undoubtedly high. He notices now, the code seems to be leaking. Red and black– similar to John Doe’s occasional appearance, is scattered across his face, primarily.
“Hold him down!” The ex-hacker barks, Guest’s painfully stern, glazed face sharpening with a stiff nod as he races towards the killer fearlessly with purpose. Chance doesn’t hesitate as they previously had, following Guest on his right, the killer glances at Chance, attempting to turn to slash before Guest grabs his arm, holding his sword, attempting to force it out of his hand. He raises his right hand, or attempts to. Chance is grabbing it with as much strength as he can muster despite the shaking of his right arm. His gun exploded a few times, evidently. 007n7’s chest swarmed with sympathy. This needs to work. Too much pain has happened for it to not.
Guest, screaming with exertion, forces Mafioso to the floor. Chance looks astonished as he follows the motion, one foot firm with all of their weight on his shoulder, while his other foot crushed Mafioso at his elbow. Guest simply held his entire upper arm down with his knee forcing his elbow down. He seemed unaffected judging by his expression, but he was sweating. 007n7 looked at his health. Thirty-nine, while Chance was at twenty-four. He felt useless, still being at full health.
He dropped to his knees, straddling Mafioso’s struggling body as he placed his hand on Mafioso’s chest for three or so seconds, bypassing the permission screen with an extra five seconds. Chance, who would’ve been looking at his actions in wonder, was clearly intent on keeping the killer still and immobilized. Guest’s muttering of duty and obeying his purpose was likely not helping this.
WIth the swiftness of someone clearly practiced, 007n7 pulled up each menu piecing together who Mafioso was as a person– selecting the entirety of the code and erasing it all, replacing it with his own rewritten version in his c00lgui. He did this with each of the six categories, swiftly typing in the last line of code that was unable to be pasted– a reset.
007n7 saved all six panels, activating the reset. Chance and Guest, who had been tensely holding the gradually rougher killer, had gone lax the second Mafioso did. A minute. It took a minute. There were a few seconds left on the clock– forty-five to be exact. The three waited tensely. Elliot, now at full health, glanced over from the wall he was positioned behind, looking at the killer’s limp body with brief awe, but a tinge of fear in his eyes. Understandable.
Mafioso’s body twitched. The c00lgui appeared in front of 007, connected to the status of the robloxian. Twenty-three percent, thirty-four, forty-one, sixty-nine, seventy-six, eighty-eight, a hesitance, briefly causing the father’s heart to jump, before a full bar was displayed. The gui flickered out of existence as Mafioso’s body struggled to awaken. Guest glances at 007n7, an unspoken question. Immobilize or back away? 007n7 gestured them away from Mafioso and toward him. Chance jumped to his side. Guest did so swiftly as well. Elliot tucked his head back behind the corner.
His eyes open. Red from the shadow the brim of his fedora– still on, somehow, casts onto his face. He doesn’t attack, just stares. Hopeful, Sette starts forward. Guest reaches out a hand, but swiftly lowers it, his face tensing as if he were berating himself for his action. Chance steps forward, rightfully concerned.
“Maf?” The man blinks, his unmoving arm pointing up at him. Above his face. Towards his burger hat. Sette reaches up slowly as if Mafioso were a feral cat. He doesn’t move. Sette hands it to the man, who slowly raises his hand and places it on the hat before his face goes blank.
He opens his mouth to speak– but his face truly goes blank. Black overcomes his entire face, slowly fading in to overcome everything of his expression. 007n7’s eyebrows furrow. He takes a step back– confused, and suddenly terrifyingly fearful. Guest tenses beside him, moving in closer to his side, his fists raised. Chance begins flipping his coin furiously– the only grounding noise aside from the swiftly ticking sound of the round’s timer counting down. Ten, nine, eight–
Mafioso’s face glitches red and black for a moment. His hands raise jerkily, fingers digging into the burger hat while the spider noob stares worriedly to the side towards him. Red glows from his face, the words glaring at 007n7 like a badly written joke. His heart drops to his stomach.
ERROR! REQUESTED MESSAGE: Lapse in your code? Should've triple checked!
There’s no room for panic to fully settle in his stomach. The round ends not long after the words register in his mind. Everything goes dark, then the four wake up in the survivor's cabin.
Notes:
I have plans for them. Plans you have never seen, and won't expect. 007n7 tried to make himself more than he was; and all of them will suffer for it. He will learn to stay in line.
Chapter 4: The Spectre Whispers
Summary:
The last round. The Spectre leaves them all with a reminder before they are sent to a place reminiscent of a past. 98 more nights to go.
Notes:
hello!!! igot paid like yesterday and already burned all my moneylmai.... uhh i have my permit appointment in 2 days! i need to stop talking abt myself I HOPW U LIKE THIS CHAPTER!!! :3 it came to me...
everyone give me ur opinions on thhis chapter or i kill everyine in the stoyr
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Failure was mocking; and it was something that 007n7 never liked to experience; causing him to burst with anger for hours until he finally calmed himself. However– this was different. This was more than just a prank or a small mishap in the function of a code.
It didn’t work . The message– The Spectre’s message – was taunting. It found this entertaining. It thought 007n7’s failure was hilarious. The hacker stared down at the wooden floor, hyperfocused, too scared to lock up to face the expressions of disappointment from his failure. He promised them something– a chance at freedom. A chance to see their loved ones again–
“Sev? You okay?” The coder looks over at Chance standing beside him. He can’t bring himself to cry, although the realization brings him pretty close to it. He nods numbly. Chance furrows their eyebrows before speaking once more, “it wasn’t your fault, you know. Yeah, you were the one who wrote the code, but… I distracted you, didn’t I? Back after that round with E when I asked you to hang? You were gonna check over the code again, weren’t you?” 007n7 doesn’t confirm or deny that, but unfortunately for him, that’s all the confirmation that Chance needs. He smiles sadly at 007n7.
“See? If anyone’s to blame, it’s me,” they grab the man’s hands, holding them between their own. 007n7 gapes at him, confused. Chance smiles sweetly, “–but if you really wanted, we can share the blame. It’s our fault.” He doesn’t know how to reply. But luckily, he doesn’t have to. Shedletsky barges in, walking straight up to them and throwing his arms around them, half-eaten drumstick in his right hand.
“Hey! What’d we miss? How was the round? What’s this talk about ‘blame’? Talk to me, guys!” Shedletsky goads, cocking his head to the side not unlike the way a bird would. 007n7 glances away. Chance grants Shedletsky a plain smile, casually brushing the other’s arm off of 007n7 before throwing his own around the other, “how about we talk about it somewhere else, yeah? Sev here’s real exhausted.” Shedletsky doesn’t argue, or seem suspicious in the slightest. Or maybe he doesn’t care as long as he gets some form of an answer. He follows the gambler upstairs. As 007n7 slowly walks toward the main cabin’s door, Guest intercepts him.
“Hey– 007. You know that wasn’t your fault, right? Just as Chance said, everyone had their part in it. You didn’t mean to do what you did. You didn’t know something was wrong. And, nothing seemed to backfire. We’re all still in one piece.” The sentinel places a heavy hand on the father’s shoulder. 007n7 smiles briefly, the expression feeling heavy. He feels as if no one else understands the weight that The Spectre’s words carried. And for some odd reason– 007n7 couldn’t stop the feeling of danger. It felt foolish to think that such a thing was relevant, given the already dangerous atmosphere of the games. It might be his lingering fear. He could use a nap.
“Thank you, Guest. I understand, but it’s also… hard, you know? I’m the only one with such access to code, now. So I guess I feel more responsible.” Guest nods in understanding; responsibility is one thing he can understand like no one else. 007n7 knows this. The fathers share a smile between each other, telling of their similar problems before they part ways, Guest retreating back inside the main cabin while 007n7 returns to his personal one.
It was late, and it was dark outside, although it always seemed to be that way. There was no real concept of time through the day; but they had managed to work out something of a system. There were more rounds during the day, slowing as it became later unless there was a new killer. At ‘night’ the rounds would stop fully for ten hours, giving the survivors time to sleep and later do their personal activities when they woke.
007n7 woke not long before the round started. Two Time, Chance, and Elliot stayed back at the cabin. It was a normal round with 1x4– only, she was acting odd. She was missing more entanglements than usual. She was slower, and even let Builderman slip by while clutching his injured arm. He was off his game; Shedletsky took full advantage of that which helped her to focus more– but there was still, clearly something lingering on his mind.
c00lkidd’s round was that same day. He ran after Elliot as usual, cheered when he saw 007n7, but he seemed… apprehensive. He expressed happiness to see his father again, but was also missing more hits than usual. He had cryptic lines of ‘staying aware’ and ‘not falling asleep.’ None of the survivors bothered to ask what he meant by that, unsure if they wanted the answer. It didn’t seem like c00lkidd was as willing to give answers as he was to give cryptic ‘warnings.’
1x4 again. They behaved just as they had previously, but were more harsh with their slashes and thrown entanglements. She muttered words about lessons and the past. The survivors were a bit more concerned now that 1x4 had joined in on the odd messages, but he was unwilling to offer an explanation. No one but Shedletsky had the guts to push for more than that, but he died from his minions before he got an answer from the being of hatred.
Everyone was on edge. That same day, Jason was the killer. He was slower. His range was lessened from his lack of arm strength behind the slashes. He was distracted. Shedletsky and Guest were frustrated at the lack of answers. The next day– Two rounds with John Doe, one with c00lkidd, and one with bluudud. Slow, distracted, quiet cryptic messages, weaker hits. The survivors were winning every round, now. It was more concerning. Mafioso was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Eunoia. That was until the third day.
pr3ttypriincess was the first killer, unlike the others, she was louder, but seemed far more nervous and paranoid, resulting in her loss. 1x4 was next. She lost as well, not noticing the number of survivors who had fled the battle to complete the generators, draining the time swiftly. One punch from Guest sealed his fate, the round ending not long after. Eunoia was the next killer. But, unlike the others, she didn’t fight. She dropped each cake that appeared in her hand, running up to Chance, given 007n7’s absence from the round, and shook them furiously.
She whispered harshly that something was coming. That The Spectre told them their job was done– it had ended early. The survivors were going on to the last . To face what makes them who they are– their darkness and hauntings. Glimpses and uneven pieces of things they may not understand. They have goals– they will– the round ended early. Eunoia collapsed to the floor, on her knees, shoving her cake into her throat, her hand unable to be moved from inside her mouth even as Chance yelled, Taph attempting to help pull her arm out.
They told the others. Everyone was worried– everything made more sense. This ‘phase’ was ending, and they’d be moving on to something new. 007n7 knew this was his fault– his tampering with the code, his failed plan to repair Mafioso. They had an hour break. When the round started, the clinking of studs and shuffle of paper made the coder pale.
Mafioso. He wondered… if he’d be able to fix his error. But no, there was no way. Both Chance and Guest were with him, Taph, Noob, Dusekkar, and Elliot staying back. Mafioso targeted the two sentinels the minute the round started, brutally killing them– cutting off Guest’s limbs, and shooting Chance with his own gun before ripping open his arms, legs, and stomach. He stuffed him full of studs, then used his corpse to beat Builderman. 007n7 didn’t stand a chance, and once every other survivor was gone, he paled when he heard the last man standing theme– one he hadn’t heard before, unique to him and Mafioso.
The song was intense with a clear Italian undertone. There was trumpet and piano, but a loud, terrifying tune above. It was tragic and violent– unlike his and c00lkidd’s which was softer. The coder used every tool he had, stumbling over his feet whispering to himself, begging to make it out alive. He had killed them all in a swift succession– there was a minute and forty-four seconds left. Mafioso had found where he was hidden, sending out the occasional clone as far as it could go in hopes of leading Mafioso away. But the boss was too good for that to work, clearly.
His eye glinted red when he caught sight of 007n7, chasing him around the wall, then throwing a money bag from the corner as he turned. 007n7 grunted, huffing when it hit his back, the coins bruising him, and edges of the bricks digging in sharply. He continued running despite this, his health slowly draining. Mafioso dashed forward, his sword drawn, striking 007n7 across the back. The coder choked, stumbling over the white bridge he was attempting to run across. He fell to the floor. Thirteen health. Mafioso stepped up to his trembling body, his right eye still glowing that familiar ruby red as he kneeled down beside him. Pushing him onto his stomach and straddling his backside. 007n7’s eyes narrowed in both pain and confusion. Mafioso pressed down hard on his back, irritating the wide, expansive bruises. Using his sword, he cut a precise line down his back, his clothes splitting apart.
The hacker startled, attempting to run, but the killer was noticeably heavier than he was. Mafioso didn’t say anything. He just smiled, a simple, almost shy thing as he repositioned his sword, one hand gripping the handle, and the other gently guiding the blade toward the skin of his back. 007n7 paled, breathing out a shaky exhale of pain when he felt the sword slowly slip under his skin. With how slow Mafioso was going, he felt every bit of it. The disconnect from his flesh and skin, the hands– covered with fitted white gloves, dragging a finger over his exposed flesh.
He screamed loud enough that he was deaf to his own ears. Mafioso didn’t seem bothered, his ears down as they had been the entire round. He flayed the entire left before moving onto the right, 007n7 breathing so roughly that he was rising off the grass each time he did. His arms were shaking, sweat staining his entire face, his hair sticking to his forehead. Blood was racing down his arms and down his stomach, the sweat mingling with the blood, creating a painful stinging sensation. When Mafioso started flaying again, he couldn’t take it. He doesn’t remember what happened, but his mind went black. He could feel himself screaming, his vocal cords cutting out from the sheer volume and force behind his screams. When he collapsed, he opened his eyes to find himself in the lobby, his legs trembling. He had heard what happened after his world went black– Mafioso flayed his entire body. The skin on his back, stomach, chest, arms, legs, butt, face, and neck. Then, he threw him inside the poisonous river, watching his body seize and convulse before going still with minimal twitching. That was the first time a killer had won a round in three days.
He went to bed after that. Chance insisted on sleeping over, worried and managing to convince the man that they both needed a bit of comfort after dying like that. 007n7’s cabin had only one bed, which prompted Chance and 007n7 to argue over who would get the bed, both of them insisting that the other should have it. In the end, Chance insisted that they either both share it, or both sleep on the floor to please them both. The coder begrudgingly agreed to sharing the bed with Chance, despite its petite size. Oddly enough, the heat of another person in his bed made it easier to sleep. 007n7 ran cold after he was forsakened. Chance did as well– but between the two of them, it was warmer than usual.
Not long after the two fell asleep in the rumbled bed, Guest went as well. Then Dusekkar, then Taph, then Builderman, Two Time, Noob, Shedletsky, and finally, Elliot. Taph, typically plagued by memories, found his dreams to be nothing. A black wall soothing him into what felt more like recharge, not so much sleep. Despite this, no one thought anything of the lack of dreams. It was just another night; no one noticed the shift. No one noticed the sudden lack of their comforting commodities, deep asleep until they would be asked to wake.
007n7 turned, oddly unsettled. His pillow had fallen off his bed again. The light of his lamp was oddly white, so unlike the typical light cream it was. His mattress felt… scratchy, in a softer sense. He heard animals. Jolting awake as if furiously shaken, 007n7 sat up swiftly. A forest. A different forest. It was bright outside, a circle of rocks with a few logs inside. Four logs surrounding it in a campfire-esque sense. There were thin trees near, and if he looked farther, he could see a small structure, and a taller white tower.
He took in multiple, heaving breaths. He scrambled to his feet– there! He rushed over to the pile of his fellow survivors, not currently caring for the few who had an apparent dislike for him. Shaking Elliot, whispering loudly for them to wake up before yelling it at a slightly louder volume, Guest drew to consciousness first. Confusion flickered in his dark eyes, he glanced around before his eyes widened in horror. He sat up, finding 007n7 attempting to wake the others.
“What happened? Where are we?” 007n7 didn’t have an answer, but before he could reply with just that, Shedletsky awoke, Builderman not long after, “oh man, my head is pounding. Do we have some, uh… viagra?” The two didn’t care to mention his slip of words, as the others slowly began to wake after them. Noob sat there, blinking widely near Taph, who was still half-asleep, much like them. Elliot sat there, his arms crossed as he listened to the admins and sentinels talk about the situation.
“We were teleported into a strange forest, with the startings of a campfire. There’s a grinder for scrap metal and wood, and a board of missing children. This can’t be a coincidence,” Builderman decided with a stern expression. Guest nodded in agreement, “this is the work of The Spectre. The ‘second phase’ E was talking about.” Builderman walked up to the board– four papers were pinned onto it. Missing children, with descriptions below each picture. The wind rustled the pictures gently, drawing Builderman’s attention to a paper pinned behind it. He reached over, pulling it off. Shedletsky and Guest walked up, curious. He held the paper out, all three of them reading it silently, their expressions darkening. Builderman sighs, his arms dropping as he walks over to where the other two sentinels are standing, handing the cultist the paper before addressing the group as whole.
“This is the second phase. We need to survive here for 99 nights– which will hopefully pass faster than actual nights,” Builderman muttered to himself, Shedletsky nodding in agreement, “we need to collect firewood. Somewhere– there should be ten bags and some supplies for each of us. Basically– we need to keep the fire going, and we need to find the kids. That should be all, but we all know The Spectre isn’t merciful enough to give us the full picture; so stay on your guard,” Chance passes the paper over to Noob, who reads it with Taph.
“The sentinels will focus on food– we’ll have to kill animals for it, so it makes the most sense. Supports, focus on gathering wood. Survivors, focus on gathering scrap metal if you can find any.” Taph passes the paper to Elliot, Dusekkar stepping forward behind him to read from over his shoulder.
“We don’t know when it’ll get dark, so everyone head over to that little container there, grab an axe and a sack, then get to work, those things look like they don’t hold much so don’t stray too far– you’ll have to drop it back sooner than later,” Builderman drawls as the survivors move over to grab the mentioned supplies. Elliot adjusts the axe in his grip, walking over to a weaker looking tree before repeatedly thumping his axe against it . From his peripheral vision, he can see Builderman, Taph, and Dusekkar doing the same. It takes seven or so swings before the tree is down– he blinks as the tree splits into three pieces of wood, leaves, and one… branch? He looks at his sack, then looks at the logs.
“Yeah… ok,” he mutters, making a weak attempt to shove one in there. To his sheer shock, it fits. There’s more room. He blinks, his shoulders lax with his confusion and an odd calmness. He inserts the logs and the branch, piling the logs inside the fire. The logs make contact with the others– there’s no fire, not even a spark, but a fire erupts from the logs. Elliot stumbles back, the fire flashing in his eyes. He’s shaking– having not anticipated the eruption, but also… he stares at the fire, reflecting in his glazed eyes. He can hear footsteps running over, shouting fire .
All he could smell was smoke and ash. He would try to cough, but he would only have to breathe after. He would only choke on the thick, overbearing smoke crowding all areas of the pizzeria. Or what was left of it. Elliot didn’t ponder, he just moved forward mechanically– unsure if he was looking for an exit, or for someone to save. He didn’t think too hard about it. One foot in front of the other, pass by the unmoving corpses, tell yourself there’s nothing you could’ve done, and for once in your life– blame someone that wasn’t you. Pillars and the very foundation of the pizzeria collapsed under the destruction of a fire, somehow perfectly missing Elliot as he walked right down the middle with little regard for his safety. The fire suddenly dulled to nothing right when he exited, and he looked up with his soot-covered face, having no room for shame with the empty feeling in his chest.
The hacker and his son stood there. That god forsaken panel was still out– with the look of panic, likely not expecting to be caught, looking so disgraceful on the older man.
Elliot sniffled suddenly, overwhelmed before forcing those feelings back. He needed to confront him. People died– good people, regulars that he’d gotten to know, employees that came to work everyday despite the frankly, terrible pay. Elliot loved them like they were his family.
“You,” he spat with venom drenching the words, his hand clenched into a balled fist by his side while his other was raised, point accusingly at the hacker as he walked forward, intriguing on his space even as the other jerked back, “I–” he started. Elliot didn’t care to hear.
“You killed them! All of them! All those people, all my– my friends! And you just fucking killed them? Do you not care? Do you feel nothing? What the fuck is wrong with you? Bodies were pinned to the damn ceiling– to the walls and all the furniture– this isn't a coincidence. You did this, so take the fucking blame for it you son of a–” the hacker’s expression, twisted with confusion, quickly morphed into one of acceptance. Casting a glance towards his devilish son, who stood there seeming so confused.
“God forbid I don’t serve you pizza, huh? Because then you go and do this? Are you really that fucking petty, man? Do you not value lives anymore, you sadistic– f-fucker!” The hacker didn’t even try to defend himself now. It didn’t make Elliot feel better– he wanted the other to seem more proud of his actions so Elliot could feel more anger. The sadness crept up on him, his hands shook. His shoulders slouched.
“I… I hate you,” was all he could say, his voice trembling weakly. The two of them were silent. All that could be heard was the slow crumbling of the burned building behind them, and the distant sounds of sirens.
“I know,” 007n7 whispered, lowering his head and shading his eyes, glinting with tears.
“–Hey, Elliot, are you alright?” The worker startled, physically jolting at the unexpected sensation of a hand on his shoulder. Guest quickly removed his hand, his eyes lowering with understanding. The healer didn’t look over at him. Chance was throwing meat at the fire, laughing with Shedletsky as it cooked the instant it came into contact with the fire. There was a small pile, but the two were clearly hurt.
“–So it seems that we can’t use our previous abilities unless we come into contact with something similar? That’s our working theory. I don’t… know if this place has daggers, but if you find one or something similar, you should get your old one back. That’s how Chance got his flintlock back.” Two Time nods at Builderman’s words, a smile slowly gracing their face as they clasped their hands together, “thank you, dear admin! You’ve given me hope once more to reunite with my blessed dagger of Spawn!” Builderman, now entirely unbothered with their spawn-obsessed behavior, slowly nodded.
Elliot looked at Chance and Shedletsky, injured, and suddenly felt the burden of uselessness pile onto him. The survivalists weren’t near the campfire, having likely wandered off to complete their respective tasks. Elliot suddenly felt a bit more understanding of Noob’s situation– having to stand by, unable to help others in a way that mattered.
Despite this, he didn’t allow himself to linger on his wallowing thoughts. Him and the other three supports set off to chop as many trees as they could, piling them near the fire but not yet into. The grinder also needed wood in order to create helpful items– which Builderman did initially, chopping a tree, grinding it, then creating a map to ease the sentinels and survivalist’s descent into the woods.
Maybe time was flying with the repetitive labor– Elliot used his forearm to wipe the sweat off his forehead– but it was getting dark very quickly. Builderman seemed to notice the same, looking up at the sky hesitantly. Outside of a certain range from the campfire was barely visible with the darkness overcoming everything, seemingly. Simultaneously, all of their watches beeped, prompting all four of them to open the message. It was from 007n7– telling everyone to get back to camp– there was a monster in the forest. Paling, Elliot’s stomach turned, unsettled. If someone was hurt– no matter how badly– he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Builderman seemed troubled by this as well– no more sentries, and no dispensers to slowly regenerate health. So– they did what they could. Builderman swiftly split the logs– ⅔ to the grinder, ⅓ to the fire due to the lesser flammability of the wood compared to other things in the forest.
Taph planted trees around the edge of the campfire– a weak barrier compared to his traps, but no one had room to judge. They were all missing their abilities. Elliot gathered all the food, sorting them into two neat piles. There was a collection of steak, morsels, carrots, and a small handful of apples, as well as berries. Dusekkar discussed with Builderman what the most helpful contraptions would be at the moment. Their conversation was interrupted with a rustle in the forest.
All four of them paused. Elliot shrunk back, Taph grasped the saplings in his hands as if they were the sticks of a tripwire, Dusekkar raised his hands– his staff no more useful than a log. Builderman took a step back.
Guest emerged from the woods, Shedletsky tailing after him. His sack– noticeably larger than the ones they started out with– was evidently bunched full. Guest had the same sack the others did– but a spear was behind his back.
“Hey guys! There’s some random chests and houses in the woods– and wells, and random uh, walls? The chests have stuff in them! Like spears and bigger sacks!” Shedletsky raises his sack as an example. Guest nods in confirmation of his words. The two breach the circle, the two spilling out a mountain of food. Five steaks in Shedletsky’s sack, with ten morsels. Four morsels and a steak in Guest’s bag, with one steak in his hands. The two ate the cooked food, chatting and sharing information about what was seen in the woods.
A shot rang out in the distance, and Guest stiffened unnaturally. The others flinched, glancing out in the vague direction of the shot. A faint roar from farther into the forest was heard. A high-pitched scream, followed by three shots in quick succession was heard. Shedletsky and Guest jumped up in perfect unison, running toward the vague direction while Builderman shouted for them to wait. The four waited anxiously. Two Time and Noob returned side by side, the cultist looking oddly perturbed. Noob looked the same, but it was typical for them.
“Two Time? You don’t seem very sublime, but as if you committed a crime. What is troubling you this time?” Dusekkar inquires. Two Time slowly looks over at the admin, their eyes wider than usual; smile more jerky than usual. They nodded slowly, as if in a trance.
“Apologies, dear pumpkin. This… place is alarming me. Nothing more.” The other seemed hesitant to accept that as an answer, undoubtedly not believing them, but he merely nodded in acceptance. Two more shots. Two Time’s eyes darted up swiftly, Noob’s entire body jumped, Elliot standing from where he was sat by the fire to comfort Noob. There was silence– before an alarmingly loud shriek, so inhumane in nature, ruptured the silence of the forest. They sat around the fire, muscles tense and staring out at where Guest and Shedletsky had disappeared to.
Not that they had to wait much longer. Furious steps pattered like rain toward the campfire. They rose from their respective log seats, regarding the noise with a cautious hope.
Chance’s face was illuminated first– his suit torn and shades uneven on their face, highlighting their blood red eyes. Their flintlock was clutched in their hand, the palm of their other hand using their knee for stability as they breathed in heavily, his chest heaving.
“There’s– some fucked up deer thing in the forest! Holy, shit I can’t breathe—” Builderman’s expression swiftly soured, cursing The Spectre’s negligence as Taph guided Chance toward a log to sit on, while Shedletsky burst into view, the fire illuminating his messy stature. 007n7 was behind him, clearly being shielded by the sentinel’s body. 007n7 was scratched up, his glasses uneven on his face, and his hair tangled. He had three long slashes across his chest. Guest ran in last, dropping an old flashlight on the ground. Clearly not far from the campfire, the monster screeched. The others looked over unsteadily, while Guest, pressing a hand to his own slashes, looked up, sweat rolling down his face, down the bridge of his nose.
“Its scared of the light. As long as the campfire’s on, we’ll be fine.” They relaxed slowly at that. Guest walked forward unevenly before emptying his sack, steak spilling out, “he drops steak every time you hit him. Chance hit a few shots even if he was screaming half the time,” the gambler chuckles, the noise sounding odd in his voice before his expression straightens and he flips Guest off. The man laughs as he picks up a steak, bringing it to his mouth.
Systematically, everyone empties their sacks, Noob and 007n7 having larger sacks due to their assigned task of locating scrap metal, which oftentimes lead them towards chests. Chance found leather body armour, which he tossed to Guest, insisting that it would serve him better. The other smiled then slid it on.
Night didn’t last as long as it should’ve, they discovered. Roughly three hours of night while it was morning for six. So, quickly before everyone fitted off to sleep, scrap was grinded, a bed was made to be shared, and Builderman swiftly upgraded the crafting bench. He created a sun dial before falling asleep with the others, the fire burning through the night.
Notes:
If they can't learn from death, they will learn from repetition.
Chapter 5: Soon You Will Learn
Summary:
One may know more than they let on. With all, there is hope; with hope, there is weakness.
Notes:
IM SORROSRRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. guys wiat. ok. hi i never like. we r a system im the only one who writes this i am a fictibe so this is rlly funny to me lmao. sorry thats random I WAS RIZZING SOMEONE UP I GOT A BYFRIEND YESTERDAY THATS WHY THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SORYR. STUFF WILL HAPPEN NEXT CHAPTER. IT WILL NE BETTER. TRUST ME! (i say cutely, having no plans for any chapter and writing whatever comes to mind)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The sun is just barely peeking out from the depths of the forest when they open their eyes. It was a ritualistic schedule for them, something that they’d been doing long before their forsakening. Wake up, pray, eat, pray, rounds, pray in between, eat, pray, sleep. It had been… different with Azure, they must admit that he had strayed their attention from the Spawn. This separation was for the better, perhaps. Now, all Two Time had was the Spawn to guide them further in life.
Connections were inevitable, although Two Time valiantly attempted to limit their interactions with the other survivors, speaking only of the Spawn and requesting assistance when it suited them. They stayed hidden in rounds, stunning the killer when it was least expected; the thrill of the hits pumping adrenaline like nothing else. The way the killers would turn to look at them, the promise of revenge clearly burning in their eyes. It excited them. They were used to that repeating cycle of round after round.
The hacker had changed this.
Two Time didn’t know whether or not he should feel glad about that. The man had broken the rules set by the Spawn and attempted to rewrite a killer– which had only resulted in brutal deaths for those in the rounds. They still pale at the reminder of their death, stabbed repeatedly by their own dagger just as they had done to another once upon a time. Although, compared to the hacker’s death, it was quite merciful.
Things were different though. The reminder of their past… their life benign surrounded by fellow believers of the Spawn– it was all… feeling far too recent. The forest reminded them of the similar domain that the Spawn cult resided in– although the trees were denser with an area cleared specifically for them in the forest. Very occasionally were the followers allowed to stray away from the light of the Spawn– with fear to become lost in the twisted temptation of the false world where the others resided, pathetically unaware of such a God’s existence. Two Time couldn’t help but pity them– but had always found interest in their behaviors.
All of the survivors were from the outside, so no one would be nearly as comfortable in the forest as they were. Ducking behind trees and bushes before ambushing wolves unaware of their presence was laughably easy. The bag they were given was small, so they returned to the fire when backs were turned to drop their food off, venturing as deep inside the forest as they were able. However, it seemed that the forest wasn’t as deep as it should’ve been. There was some odd, smoky barrier separating the rest of the forest from where they were currently. Not to mention that the closer you go to said barrier, the darker your surroundings become. The work of the Spawn, no doubt.
There were carvings in trees farther near the edge of the forest. Only in a few, spread apart a dozen feet per carving. Detailed images of a deer, appearing all two familiar. Two Time’s smile twitched, threatening to slip. They steeled themself internally. The violent, detailed descriptions of this monster did not help to ease Two Time’s worries, nor to help keep the smile on their face. Appearances, they reminded themself as their eye twitched. The fire was crackling, and Builderman had just laid down for bed, mistaking himself as the last survivor remaining awake. Logically, they needed to sleep. There were three hours of night. It was only their first night here– tomorrow, they would undoubtedly work endlessly on their respective tasks. Two Time didn’t feel tired in the slightest, staring at the blazing fire with large, unsettled eyes.
It reminded them of too much. Too much of their mistakes, too much of all the painful loss– too much of who they spent all their time defending. He was devoted– but not as much as Two Time. He was devoted– so he was the ultimate sacrifice to unlock this gift from the Spawn. This gift that Two Time had foolishly thought was for Azure . Death was a precursor to rebirth, was it not? Their knees shifted, slotting under their arms as their tail curled under their legs. Unsettled– they breathed out shakily. Ashamedly, they breathed.
This was not how they were trained to behave. The teachings of their Priests– be vulnerable only in the name of Spawn– for no one is above them, no one deserves it more. To laugh, cry, love with another is to sin in the eyes of the Spawn. And sin, they did.
Loving Azure was their biggest regret. Maybe, if they were better, a better follower of the Spawn, he would still be here. They wish that Azure was disgusted by their affection in favor of returning it. They wish that he would’ve set them straight. Their tail twitched. His death was a lesson that Spawn delivered to them personally; one that should be cherished and followed– not something to be seen as so terrible and tragic.
They raised their hand, ghosting over the symbols of the Spawn fastened around their neck. The lower was smooth and metallic, while the above was dirty, scuffed with a browned substance. Two Time didn’t bother to scrape it off. They didn’t bother to crawl to a more comfortable area, casting a glance over the eight survivors splayed in differing areas. Exhausted with emotional distress, their eyes slipped closed, curled near the fire; close enough to burn.
Day came sooner than any of them would’ve liked. Groaning, the majority still groggy from sleep, slowly dragged themselves to sit up, rubbing at their eyes. Taph’s wings fluttered furiously before flattening politely behind his back, and beside the sides of his hood. Guest wished them all well on their tasks, setting out immediately to gather more food. Much would be needed given the large number of people. Chance left not long after– helping the others to notice that 007n7 and Two Time had already set off. The gambler frowned at the former’s odd absence.
After the first hour of their awakening, they were in their own loop. Builderman was furiously chopping wood, the sleeves of his jacket rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his flexing veins each time he struck the wood with his good axe– courtesy of Shedletsky, oddly enough. Taph was moving the logs for Builderman, collecting the saplings that fell with the trees, and respectively grinding the majority of the logs while tossing the others into the fire all at once. Between the three working to chop trees, Taph became the runner so they could focus on cutting them, not having to worry about emptying their bag or running between the trees and campfire.
Not long into this cycle– near the start of the second hour, after Taph had thrown all of the logs inside, the fire had blazed, suddenly, prompting Taph to jolt back, the edge of his robe singed by the fire, the exotic material burning it a soft pink. Taph stares at it, oddly put off before looking up at Builderman who raced over, one hand on his hard hat as he swept his eyes over the demolitionist before glancing at the fire, his eyes hardening. Their watches beeped. Elliot, jogging over, slowed to check. Dusekkar, his axe resting against the trunk of a tree, did the same.
CH4NC3: lelvel 2?
wtf is thyat
GUEST1337: Don’t type while killing animals, you’re going to get yourself hurt
I am curious about that as well, though
Glancing back up at the previous message– between 007n7’s aged warning and Chance’s question, sat the bolded statement.
FIRE REACHED 100%. The map has grown bigger
Blinking slowly, Elliot looked up at Builderman, who appeared to by typing on his watch with Taph watching beside him.
BUILDERMAN: What is this? We have a chat feature, now?
TW0_T1ME: It appears so! The Spawn has blessed us with this simple, effective communication for all! We must rejoice in light of this blessing!
Taph appears to startle suddenly, his head wings flustering before he pulls his sleeve back to reveal his own watch, typing on it for a few moments before a message appears in the chat.
TAPH: I can type now!!
It works! It really works!
You’ll all be able to understand me now!
TW0_T1ME: Oh, the Spawn is truly kind with its gifts! I am overjoyed for you, friend!
A smile twitches onto Builderman’s face at Taph’s visible excitement, his body appearing to be trembling while his wings flex restlessly. The sentinels and survivalists spread towards the edges of the forest, slowly spreading while checking inside abandoned cabins and bathrooms for loot. When Two Time opens a chest in a bathroom to reveal a spear, the minute they grab for it, instead of the scratchy feeling of hardly polished wood, the smooth hilt of their dagger greets them.
Eyes widening, they slowly stand from their couched position in front of the chest, staring down at their dagger with wonder, “at long last, I am blessed once more with your kindness, my savior Spawn,” Two Time mutters as they close their eyes, cupping their hands together. A voice outside shouts for them to hurry out.
“Give me a second,” 007n7 mutters to the slowly dimming light of the day. He glances up at the darkening sky from the cracks between the stretched branches. He glances back down at the alien’s body, gulping nervously while fidgeting with the projection disc. Finally managing to split the device open, he lays the two halves down before leaning down, picking up one of the two with scrutinizing eyes. A smaller glass, allowing him to scrutinize the wiring more carefully, pops out the right side of his glasses. Using a small knob on the side, 007n7 adjusts the distance of the magnifying glass, using the tip of his spear to carefully nudge out a disc on the side of the device, clicking his tongue when it fizzes. The device suddenly bursts into flames, causing 007n7 to jolt back. He stares at the burning half with disdain in his eyes before grabbing the other, working quickly to remove the small disc before it sets the entire device on fire. He throws the flaming disc to the side, gently prodding wires and small metal plates out of the disc. There’s an odd, green glowing substance fueling the projection. It seems to be everlasting, unable to be turned on or off.
Shuffling the smaller bits into his bag, his tail swats idly with excitement as he stands, looting the alien’s body for its armor and, oddly enough, what seemed to be a ray gun. It was dark out by the time he was done. He began to hurry towards the camp, using the map projection from his watch thanks to Builderman. He heard the rustling of leaves behind him, bushes being disturbed and branches breaking, and the quiet sound of heavy breaths behind him. Sweat dripped down his temple, tracing down his nose bridge until he swatted it off at the tip, racing towards the campfire’s icon on the map. The land was majorly even– although he passed by what seemed to be a hill and a few wells. Once he approached the fire, more than a dozen feet away, he turned around, unintentionally flicking his old flashlight rapidly at the creature due to his shaky hands. The creature groaned at the bright light, stuttering to a stop to shield its eyes. 007n7 booked it– running around the campfire towards a taller white building raised off the floor, with four or so steps of stairs protecting him from less intelligent dangers.
He set his sack down, grabbing the raw food he had placed inside the chest. Odd how nothing seems to go bad here. He looked down at the raygun tucked securely into his belt, then grabbed it, holding it out, poking the tip of his tongue from his lip, and shooting the steak. It only took a few shots before the steak was cooked, 007n7 slotted the raygun back into place and grabbed the steak, wincing a bit at the temperature before leaving it to cool on the counter. Emptying his sack, he sorted his items in a robotic sense, gathering all the scrap he had to run back to the campfire before bed. Storing a fairly large amount – his gui allowing bolts to take up practically no space at all due to the technicality of the smaller size, he clutched the bag into his hand before walking himself down the stairs, keeping an observant eye out for the deer. Sensing that it was clear– for now – he races towards the campfire, able to recognize the dimly glowing warmth of the blazing fire. Everyone is already laid down– Two Time circled near the fire as they were last night, clutching the necklaces around their neck.
007n7 looks between his sack and the grinder, attempting to recall if the grinder started automatically– which would be both a problem for him now, and a terrible safety hazard. Willing to bet that it didn’t, given the obscenity, he tested it by dropping a bolt inside.
The machine whirred to life loudly, chowing the small bolt into one measly piece of scrap metal. 007n7 paled, startling and jerking back from the machine, while everyone else was startled awake, flinching awake from their sleep. 007n7 paled, gulping. Shedletsky blinked blearily at him, seeming to have difficulty seeing from where he was seated, his hair out of place with his upper body leaned against Builderman, who stared directly at the ex-hacker just as Guest did. Elliot glared at him, more irritated to be awoken than anything else. It was Guest who broke the silence.
“007? What are you doing? Shouldn’t–” his eyebrows furrowed as if suddenly remembering something. The father sweated nervously, wanting nothing more than to book it back to his safe place, “where have you been ? We haven’t seen you since yesterday, the first day, after you got attacked and we all went to bed. Did something happen?” He blinked for a few moments, touched by the worry that Guest showed for his well being. He hesitated to tell the truth– but to be isolated and alone was so much easier than being crowded by people who felt more neutral to the thought of his death, undoubtedly.
“Y-yes! Sorry to have worried, you– I just forgot to, uh, empty my sack, so I wanted to do that before bed?” Builderman cast a glance at the decent pile of scrap metal already on the table– about twenty or so, and nodded in acceptance, blinking sleep out of his eyes steadily.
“Well, go right ahead, then. Grinder would keep us all up anyway, more bearable ta hear it all at once than in little bits of you tryna be quiet about it,” The admin remarked offhandedly, prompting Elliot to fall backwards, exhausted and uncomfortable. 007n7 shifted, seeing many of the survivors eyes on him, before he nodded slowly and quickly shuffled his sack to the front, deciding to dump it all at once. Great idea in theory– terrible in reality.
Fifteen junked items of metal hit the grinder all at once, shredding in a screeching cacophony of squeaking metal and anguished dents as the sharp blades broke it down methodically. Builderman’s eye twitched at the deafening noise, while Shedletsky’s wings jutted out before fluffing, bunching up in clear displeasure. Taph did the same– although his wings didn’t fluff, likely more accustomed to louder sounds due to his previous profession. It only took a minute or so for the grinding to complete– but it felt so much longer, 007n7 standing awkwardly near the machine.
Now complete, Shedletsky fell back onto the floor, curling around himself and yawning loudly. Chance flopped back down– Two Time had barely twitched from where they laid, only snapping their eyes open at the first sound of the grinder. Slowly, everyone drifted back to sleep. 007n7 took multiple steps back, trying to slowly blend into the dark to make his escape– only to see someone readjust themself– sitting back up to look directly in his direction.
“Sev… c’mon you’ve done enough, we got like– two ‘n a half hours… lay down with m– us, yeah?” Their voice was just barely loud enough to be heard over the crackling of the fire, tinged with exhaustion and hanging onto consciousness by a thread. 007n7 looked at the sentinel– his head jutted forward and seeming to be possibly squinting in the dark, if the tilted head meant anything at all. The man hesitated– wanting to return, but not wanting to leave after the direct request to stay. He took a step forward, back into the light of the campfire. Chance smiled softly, lazily gesturing him over.
“Can’t bear usin’ my own arm as a pillow, so you mind acting as one? You can do the same with me, Sev,” He didn’t bother with a reply, more embarrassed than anything with his casual behavior about his words. The two would practically be cuddling . The father gulped, willing the thought away. The gambler didn’t mean it like that– he cast a glance towards his face, the fire casting a dim light onto his grey face. They were supporting themself with their right arm, angled behind them sitting them up partially. Their head was tilted to the side– giving the impression of a playful invitation, waiting for 007n7 to accept. Slowly, 007n7 lowered himself near Chance, mindful of the few survivors not yet lulled into the peacefulness of rest. Chance leaned towards him, his dress shirt ruffling, and suit top folded under them, not unlike a pillow.
“I don’t bite, promise.” They reached out, ghost over 007n7’s hand, glancing up briefly as if waiting for a confirmation. The other hesitated, then jerkily reached forward, ghosting over Chance’s forearm. The gambler smiled, “aren’t you a bit cold? C’mere,” he sat up slightly, one hand on the father’s right forearm, and the other behind his back, pulling him forward. 007n7 swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry as Chance slowly maneuvered the two into a comfortable position.
“Er–” 007n7 started, hesitance dripping from his tone. Chance removed his fedora, using their hand to brush their bangs back out of their face. They looked back at 007n7, down at the shorter man. His heart faltered oddly at Chance’s appearance. Their hair messy yet voluminous, their face partially illuminated by the blazed campfire, the glimpse of their golden eye visible due to the campfire’s light. Or, perhaps it was the soft smile on their face.
“Something wrong?” He questioned simply, as if he hadn’t given 007n7 much to consider. The other merely shook his head, troubled. Chance rustled his hair once more before leaning back, sighing when they were finally flat down. They rolled their head, looking over at 007n7 who was visibly reddening.
“Ready?” Although he mentally pondered over the wording, he nodded regardless. Chance shifted, pulling 007n7 closer as he casually made himself comfortable. The father was terribly tense, extremely nervous for unknown reasons– this wasn’t the first time they had slept together– but this was public. Everyone would see them… but Chance didn’t seem to care, if he had even considered that thought beforehand. He could feel the other’s breath on his neck, spurring a tightening elsewhere. 007n7 didn’t allow himself to think about it, shifting his legs and adjusting his head nearer to Chance’s. He fell asleep not long after.
Notes:
All hope is generated. All hope is advatage.