Chapter Text
"If you had to betray one person to save a thousand, would you?"
There were dead bodies raining from the sky.
“Murderer!”
“That- that wasn't me!”
“Death to Saparata!”
“I'm innocent, please-”
“He’s a traitor!!”
“I'm being framed!-”
“LIAR!!!”
Boots hit stone, sprinting across cracked walls and dirt. Behind him, a hundred soldiers who wanted him dead.
“You killed our leaders. You destroyed our island.”
“If I have to die, I'm going to make sure he does too.”
-
With a sharp inhale, Saparata's eyes shot open, pulled from sleep by the nightmare. His eyes scanned the room on instinct- even though it was the exact same room he’d fallen asleep in, the very same room he’d built...
Built with Flux.
He sat up, pulling a hand through his sweat drenched hair, noticing how shaky his hands were. He pulled the blanket off of him, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Quickly, he spared a glance at the figure next to him, worried that his oversight of not trying to be quiet and discreet had made him wake up. Thankfully, Flux stayed asleep, chest rising and falling in a methodical rhythm, the only sign of life coming off of him.
Saparata stood, leaning against the wall dizzily as he caught his breath from standing. He reached out in the darkness, hand connecting with the pocketknife set on his bedstand. He always kept it on him, except when he slept, as to not accidentally hurt Flux. Saps held back a yawn, stumbling sleepily out of the room.
He was just going to get some water, then he'd go back to sleep. Yeah... Yeah.
Swaying slightly from the sleep still clinging to his mind, Saparata stumbled out of the room and down the hallway to the kitchen, grabbing a cup and walking over to the sink. He clumsily turned on the faucet, filling it with water.
He turned off the faucet when the cup was almost full, and held it up next to his chest. He gazed down into the cup, the white porcelain material showing his reflection in the clear water perfectly accurate, and staring back at him with the same, sleepy eyes.
It was probably because he’d just woken up, but God, he looked like a mess. His hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead and clinging uncomfortably on his neck and shoulders. His eyes were shadowed and lifeless, looking more akin to those of a corpse than a living being. His lips were chapped and cracked, so brittle a smile could have made them begin to bleed.
Saparata blinked. His reflection blinked back.
His grip on the mug’s handle tightened. He stared at his reflection, who stared back, showing himself the acute twitching of his own features as his face twisted into a scowl.
Without thinking, his arm jolted upwards and the cup of water splashed straight into his face.
Saparata gasped at the shock from the cold water, eyes wide open as he stared at the empty white porcelain. “Why did I do that?” He whispered to himself, tone exasperated and light. He chuckled, setting the cup down and wiping off his face with a towel.
His clothes were soaked, as was his hair, and the shock had chased off any traces of tiredness still left, so he figured there was no way he would be able to get back to sleep. He used the towel to wipe up the water that had spilled on the floor, sighing at himself as he did.
He would just go check to make sure Flux was still asleep. That was all.
Saps took the hair tie he kept on his wrist and put his hair up in a loose ponytail, the water soaking into the band but at least finally dripping off of him instead of onto his neck and shirt. He wrung out the thick white strands into the sink, water funneling its way out and down the drain.
He stepped out of the room and into the hall. As he was passing the doors, he noticed one was open. He didn't have the best memory, but he could've swore it was closed when he passed it originally.
He entered the room, and noticed a figure sitting in a chair. He flinched, not expecting anyone to be here. No one should be here. It was impossible for anyone to be here. They were- they found him. They were- he- he was going to die.
No. He was being paranoid. He- It was just a trick of the shadows. It was just pillows and blankets that happened to look like a figure.
Saparata turned and kept walking.
But his blood seemed to freeze in his veins when the pile of pillows and blankets that happened to look like a figure spoke.
"Not even a greeting? How rude of you, Saps."
Blood immediately rushed through Saparata's ears, accompanied by a loud, panicked ringing that blocked out everything else he could hear them say, but one thing he did hear were footsteps, approaching him. His vision swayed and his breathing picked up. He needed to leave. He needed to run. He was going to die.
Saparata started sprinting down the hall, trying to put as much distance between him and the intruder as possible. He'd done this before, he'd escaped hundreds of players. he could do it again. He momentarily thought about going back for Flux, he knew he could never forgive himself if he was killed, but hopefully he'd hear the commotion and wake up, it wasn't safe for Saps to stay here, not now, not anymore.
He burst through the front door, realizing only after his feet hit the rocky ground that he was wearing no shoes. It's fine, he had his armor on him, he always kept a set in his inventory, just to feel more secure. It seemed like it was coming in handy now. He'd put it on after he was a safe distance from the intruder.
He didn't dare look back- the face of his killer wasn't all too important to him, not as important as surviving and running away. He heard the footsteps all the same. He knew where he needed to go.
Saparata sprinted off the dirt path he'd made, opting for softer, more easily traversable grass.
He had a gear disadvantage, but he knew the land.
And he knew there was a dock with only one boat that he could get to with ease.
Saparata hopped over logs and branches, determined to reach his destination. Soon, the sound of waves crashing and the smell of saltwater hit his senses.
He was pretty sure his chaser had called his name- multiple times, in fact- but he wasn't listening. All he could hear was "Run, run, run, kill, kill, kill, traitor, traitor, traitor."
His feet hit sharp stone again as he made the final stretch to the wooden dock. He felt the rocks dig at the soles of his feet, the pebbles denting into and sticking in his calloused heels and ripping away the skin. He felt the skin break, rip and tear, small cuts and bruises stabbing at his skin.
At last, he reached the dock, and he got a relief from the physical pain, but not from the sheer terror that gripped at his very conscious, the instinctual chant that he was going to die if he didn't run far, far away where no one could ever find him.
He vaulted over the railing and into the boat, wincing as his injured soles hit the floor of the vessel. He didn't bother untying the rope connecting it to the dock, he took out his pocketknife, which he was so glad he remembered to take, and sawed through the rope in seconds.
The figure was approaching, he could see them in his peripheral vision now. They struggled to get through the dense jungle terrain, but called out to him, something strangely familiar about his voice, something that made Saps' heart jump out of his chest and into his throat. Something that made both panic and guilt course strongly through his veins, both conflicting on what to do, if to flee, or if to stay and hear them out, and a smaller, truer part of him that wanted nothing less than to run up to the figure and throw himself on their sword for one final chance to embrace them while apologizing for ever even thinking of trying to run away from what had to be destiny.
What was he thinking??? He couldn't afford to stare, he had to go! Now!!!
Chest heaving with effort and from the hyperventilation, Saparata pulled the oars forward, steering towards the mainland of the jungle. It was dense enough there that he'd surely never be found. That logic hadn't failed him yet, at least.
He was going into hiding once again.
It was the only way to keep himself safe.