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Guest 1337 was bleeding from his gut; he clutched his chest as if his guts were going to fall out if he let go. He was on his knees as Slasher, the mad masked Baconhair experiment, stood over the bleeding soldier, having forced 1337 to the ground with a machete through his leg.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He taunted, fairly muffled by his mask. “Looks like the ‘Last Guest’ is just as pathetic as expected, all you Guests are honestly. I’m surprised a white skinned pest like you even enlisted in the first place.”
“Sh-Shut up…” panted the soldier, wanting the fight but too tired to do so. “You didn’t have to be like this…”
“You think I had a choice?! Pathetic!” Slasher cackled at the blue-haired soldier. “Us Bacons are much more superior to lowly PESTS like you. My mother taught me that the only people worse than bullies are Guests and the people who tolerate them. Your friends were such pushovers…”
Slasher began revving up his chainsaw; he was ready to slice a guest in half. “I’m going to enjoy this…” he said as he prepared to carve 1337 up, but before he could even graze a single hair on the veteran, he noticed him breathing violently and stopped out of childish curiosity.
Guest 1337 wasn’t used to this; he had heard rumblings about the guests of old being able to defend themselves, but he thought of this as hysterical strength. But this wasn’t that; it was more akin to a transformation a werewolf goes under during the full moon.
Black hair sprouted from his skin in chunks, as his feet turned into glowing blue hooves akin to those of a goat. The machete in his leg got rejected and fell to the floor. His fingers turned into angular claws perfect for cutting and goring, just as blue as his new hooves. Guest 1337 got much bigger, leaving only scraps of the military uniform he wore. He towered over Slasher as the wound on his gut seemed to heal instantly, while a wiry blue tail with a diamond with a hole in the centre grew from his tailbone. Two blue glowing horns sprouted from his head as his eyes turned into a furious glowing blue, and his nose and mouth merged into a snout, a mane sprouted from his neck and grew to his upper body. Slasher could only stand at the thing that stared down at him, from bleeding and kneeling to ready to slaughter.
“What in the goddamn-” awed Slasher, staring at the beast that stood where a filthy pest one stood. “Never mind. You’ll be fodder to my saw!”
Slasher swung his chainsaw at the beast, only to be met by its wrist in the form of a bizarre block. Sparks flew as Slasher tried to carve up its arm, forcing it further. Eventually, the sparks faded as Slasher stared at his saw in confusion; all the blades on his chain had dulled, rendering it useless. Slasher dropped his saw in frustration as the beast began to giggle.
“Looks like you broke your toy…”
It all clicked for Slasher, that beast, that thing, that monster, it was Guest 1337. How? How did he do that? Could all Guests do that? When could he do that? Has he done this before? All those questions spinning in his head were met with a realisation: his machete, just behind that Guest, he tried to dash underneath the hulking Guest to grab his beloved machete, only to be stopped by the beast’s enormous hands. Guest 1337 held the Baconhair up close to his snout, breathing hot air onto the masked killer.
“Now, what was that about Guests being pathetic?” he snarled, as he stared at the crude mask Slasher hides behind. “You say things like that while you cowardly hide behind a mask… Let’s see what you’re like behind the face you wear”
Guest 1337 grabbed the edges of the mask with his free hand and tore it from Slasher’s face, breaking it off of the straps. He dropped the mask and crushed it with his hoof. He stared at Slasher's horrified and malformed face and sneered.
“An ugly face, befitting for an ugly soul. I’d pity you, but given the way you are, you don’t deserve it.” 1337 picked up Slasher’s machete and threw it into the distance, dropping the scared Baconhair with pure bravado. “I’ll give you a chance to run, I’ll give you 10 seconds, starting… NOW.”
Slasher began to run from Guest 1337, finding it ironic that the man he hunted was now the one doing the hunting. He hid behind a wall and curled into a fetal position, beginning to sob to himself. He hasn’t felt this horrible ever since he was in school, days of humiliation and bullying coming back to him. “M-mommy…” he whimpered, wishing for this to end.
Suddenly, a slam ruptured the ground as Guest 1337, having landed from a great leap that cleared the wall and caught Slasher off guard, pinning him to the floor. Slasher tried to wriggle free, but the strength of the beast was much too strong for him to overcome; the last thing he felt was his neck snapping.
The Last Survivor Won
Guest 1337 was now outside the familiar cabin, still in his large, beasty form. And he had just become the centre of attention. The other survivors looked at Guest 1337 with interest and confusion; the 1337 they knew was a soldier who fought with his upper body, not a giant demon who could singlehandedly terrify the unflappable Slasher. Noob climbed onto Guest 1337 and smiled.
“Y’know, I kinda like you like this…” They admitted, nuzzling their mane. “I-if you’re fine with it, of course.”
“Y’know, I think I am too… I feel like I can do a lot more like this.”
“We saw yer folly 'gainst Slasher. Didn’t know you could sumthin like that.” Buiderman chuckled, throwing his arm over Dusekkar. “Why didn’ja tell us that Guests could do that?”
“It appears this information has slipped me by. For I can not tell you why.”
“I guess it’ll be a mystery to us all then, maybe I should stay like this for a bit, give the other killers a start.”
The rest of the survivors laughed and chatted about it, the fear of what’s in store for the next round washing off of them.
Back in Slasher’s limbo. His mother’s voice was admonishing Slasher for his performance in the round.
“Why did you get distracted?” She pointed, “You let the Guest overpower you, and you got yourself killed by his hands.” Slasher stayed silent; he wouldn’t talk over his dear mother. “Do you have anything to say to me, Jason?”
“...Sorry…”
“That’s what I thought.” She continued. “This better not continue into the next round, and I expect you to have your chainsaw replaced, your mask remade, and your machete reacquired.”
And his mother’s voice faded once again. Slasher sighed as he waited for the next round, whenever that would be.
YOYLEBREAD (Guest) Sun 31 Aug 2025 03:19PM UTC
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