Chapter Text
Frank’s days were all the same. He opens his eyes to a familiar environment, with an urge to kill. His mind was centered on his targets, and a shudder of pleasure ran through his body at the screams of his victims. Once they were all dead, darkness engulfed him and he was sent to a void, waiting until he was summoned again. A place where his thoughts were silent, and his senses shut down, like he ceased to exist.
That is, until a trial where he came across a familiar face. Something about it made him hesitate, the bearded face and soft eyes, they drew something from deep in his brain. As he kept seeing the man in trials, the more he pushed against his bloodlust, and started asking himself questions. Who was he? Why can’t he remember his past, why does the winter resort feel so comforting to him? Who were Susie, Joey and Julie, why were their names persistent in his soul?
Frank couldn’t answer, and eventually decided to try to forget them. Pushing his bloodlust down made his head throb, and his hands shake. As he was about to sink his knife into the final survivor, the man at the source of his questions, the man looked up at him with heavy breaths and sadness in his eyes.
“Frank,” The man coughed out, “Please, don’t do this.”
His knife froze midair, and the throbbing pulsed harder at the mention of his name. He parted his lips, wanting to respond, but his voice wouldn’t respond, and he could only let out a few grunts. Kill him, stab him, sacrifice him, tear him open- his mind said, but his body wouldn’t follow through, his knife still shaking. Frank tried to speak again, swallowing to try to clear the block.
“W-Who?” He managed to rasp out, he couldn’t remember the last time he talked.
“You remember me?” The man asked, “It’s me, Jeff, from the art shack, I-I made that mural for you and-”
KILL HIM, MAKE HIM SCREAM. The man’s voice muffled out, as the overwhelming thought clouded his ears. It echoed, and his temples pulsed, leaving Frank clutching and grasping at his mask; he didn’t want to kill the man, he felt it in his soul. He shuffled backwards, turning to slam his forehead onto the floor as hard as he could, and he could feel the mask crack. He kept hitting the floor, until the thoughts stopped coming, and he gasped, closing his eyes in relief.
His head has never been any clearer.
“Frank?” The man’s voice was distant, and he felt a calloused hand on his shoulder.
“You…need to go, use the hatch.” Frank shrugged the man off, before standing up unsteadily. “You need to fucking go.” He repeated, firmly.
The man kept staring at him with sad eyes, and he stood to head towards a window, before vaulting, he glanced back and smiled. “It’s nice to see your face again, Frank.”
At that, Frank slowly raised a bandaged hand to his face, not to feel the mask, but skin. He stumbled out of the shack, looking for any surface to see himself in, and eventually came across a broken mirror on the upper floor of the main house. Through the cracked shards, he saw what he had become. His eyes had become steely, blood and dirt clumped in his hair, and his chin was scruffy with light stubble that was nearly invisible. Frank collapsed onto his knees, trying to catch every detail of his face, when the Fog appeared around his knees, dark claws grabbing his jacket, dragging him down. He was scared, what would he be like when he was summoned again? He didn’t want to lose his awareness and authority.
Frank could do nothing as his vision darkened, and the feeling of his world cutting out happened in an instant. There was nothing, his mind was empty, and he was no more.
---
Frank opened his eyes to a cornfield and barnhouse. Unconsciously, he raised his hand to touch his face, only to feel the cold surface of his mask. He shut his eyes, trying to quiet the rest of his bloodlust, if he could. The urge to hunt was sown into his very being at this point, it came second nature to him. Susie, Joey and Julie, I need to find them, I want to go home.
Frank could barely remember home, but something in him wanted to call the winter resort home. He knew he didn’t belong here, that he was elsewhere away from the screams, and that the mysterious people were special to him. They were his family, he guessed.
I can try to find someone, and talk to them. Maybe that man is here again. Frank thought, and started walking to the nearest generator. In the distance, he could see a ginger girl in braids running, she was purposely making noise. Frank chased her, but kept his knife down, using all his power to catch up as they circled around the building, and vaulted over debris. The girl even knocked down a box to try and trip him, and threw whatever she could to slow him down.
It took Frank a second to fully catch her, but he eventually did when he grabbed her collar, dragging her off a window. The girl yelled, kicking at his stomach and grabbing at his hand.
“You, who the hell is the bearded man?” Frank turned her around so she was facing him.
The girl stared at him wide eyed with a wild look, “You can talk?”
“Answer my question.”
She scoffed and kicked him where he least expected him, in the groin. Frank swore as he dropped her, he didn’t spend all this time to catch her just to be kicked in his private parts. Maybe it was best to go for someone who was bad at running away, like the fellow in the glasses. He saw the guy earlier peeking out from a locker. Frank turned on his heels, sticking his middle finger in the direction the girl ran off to and headed towards where he saw the glasses guy last.
He found a few generators started, assuming the rest of them were hiding, waiting for him to leave. Trusting his gut, he turned to the nearest locker and opened it, and was met face to face with not glasses, but another man. He was tanned, asian, with messy hair and a green coat. Frank recognised him as the man who liked to break his hooks, and as the man who never screamed, no matter how many times he was hooked. Like the other times, he didn’t make a sound as Frank grabbed him by the jacket and threw him on the ground.
Frank assumed if he added a little bit of threat, they might answer his questions, and he leaned forward, pressing his knife into the man’s neck. “Who is the man with the beard?”
Compared to the girl, the saboteur was significantly calmer, maybe even intrigued by his question. “There are a few with beards, any specifics?”
“He has brown eyes and has a lion’s mane.”
The man tilted his head, “Why do you want to know?” The question didn’t seem to be for caution, more for genuine curiosity.
Frank slowly lowered his knife, but kept it out in case the man tried to run. “I know him, but I don’t know how.”
“You’re…less rabid, more human, what changed?”
Frank couldn’t disagree, looking back on his past trials, he did act like a rabid dog. “I don’t have a damn clue.”
“The man you want is Jeff. Does that help ring a bell?”
Jeff…Jefferson? Frank dropped his knife, as a memory came flashing back. It was inside a cosy shop, where he spoke to a younger looking Jeff about a mural. There was a girl with him, she was laughing with him, her blond hair tied into a loose ponytail. The memory stopped there, and he grasped at his mask. Was she Julie? She must’ve been, it felt right to put that name onto that face.
“Hey, what's wrong with you?” The man was asking, and by the looks of it he was trying to get his attention for a while.
“I-I don’t belong here.” Frank mumbled, grasping at dry grass under his palm. “I need to go home.”
The man looked like he wasn’t sure what to do, there was a mix of confusion, and excitement. He must’ve been ecstatic to have a killer speak to them in an actual conversation. He held out his hand, “My name is Jake, and we can help each other."
Frank hesitated to take his hand, “Help how?”
“Sharing information, maybe, either way it sounds like we both don't belong here. You and my friends.”
Frank took his hand, and was pulled into his feet, leaving his knife on the ground. The moment he was steady, a pulse boomed in his temples and he grunted. “Fucking hell, my head hurts.”
“I wonder if we can get you out of a trial with us,” Jake was saying, “We all know you guys can’t follow us past the gates, but what about a hatch?”
It was an interesting concept, he always closed hatches, rather than trying to go through them. Frank hoped that whatever was keeping them here, it miraculously forgot to block the hatches for its murderous employees. “Do I need to kill the others?”
Jake wrinkled his nose, “No! I’ll convince them to leave me behind.”
“They won’t believe you, if I were them I’d think you were fucking stupid for falling for a trap.”
“Well, it doesn't seem like a trap to me, I know traps…and you seem genuinely homesick.” Jake sighed, “I’ve seen the others break down like you do. If I can get you out, I’ll pretend you’re a new survivor, there are some in camp who would kill you, and we need you alive with us.”
“They aren’t wrong for wanting to fuck me up.”
“Well what my priority is to see if there is a lead to getting out with what we can piece together.”
“Alright.”
---
Frank waited under a tree, ignoring how his senses prickled at the sound of generators finishing, and the sound of people running through the buildings. He hated how his hand twitched every time someone touched a locker. At last, he heard the last generator finish, and not long before that, a gate was opened. As expected, he sensed all but one leaving, and he got up to search for the hatch. It was conveniently in the center of the western street, and standing nearby was Jake.
“Try going in.” Jake said.
Frank reached into the black fog, shuddering at the cold and numbness seeping into his muscles. He expected to be blocked by the black spikes, but nothing happened. He pulled his hand out. “What would we even do if I followed you out? I doubt whatever freak that has us in here would turn a blind eye at me ditching.”
Jake shrugged, “We will figure that out when we get there.”
Frank didn’t like Jake’s calmness, and this time stuck both legs into the hatch. He took a deep breath, and dropped in, letting the darkness engulf him.
----
Jake went through the hatch as normal, crossing his fingers, hoping the killer was there on the other side. His feet landed on solid ground, and he immediately looked around, and spotted a slumped figure not too far from him. He recognized him as the Legion and rolled him over onto his back, shaking his shoulders. “Hey, wake up! You made it!”
The killer didn’t respond.
Jake’s alarm senses went off, and he grasped at the mask, trying to pull it off. After a few attempts, it came off, and for the first time he saw who was beneath the mask. It was just a kid, a young adult at the oldest, and definitely a few years younger than him. “Hey!” He repeated, this time pressing a finger to his neck. There was a faint pulse, and his breathing shuddered.
Jake cursed to himself, and took the mask, throwing it as far as he could into the fog. Then he unzipped the leather jacket, and took his belt with the teeth sewed onto it and threw them aside. He pretended that he saw material for an offering in the trial, and that he needed to get it. With enough reasoning, he convinced Dwight to let him go, while Meg and Nea didn’t seem to care that he could be walking into a death on the surface, but he knew they were ticked off that he wasn’t leaving.
Jake hoisted the killer onto his back once all of the identifying features were off. He ditched the bloodied bandages, leaving the killer in a dirty white t-shirt and his jeans. He started the short trek back, and it wasn’t long before he saw the campfire. His one worry was Jeff, he knew Jeff was sensible, but if he saw an old friend who killed people suddenly appear as one of them, he wasn’t sure how’d he react. Just to make sure, he walked to the side where Jeff usually wasn’t found.
The first person he met was Claudette, who was picking up herbs from her garden, and her eyes widened. “Jake? Is that a new…”
He nodded, “I found him in the woods, I don’t know why but he won’t wake up.”
“Is he hurt? His jeans are awfully bloody.”
“I’m not sure, I looked him over but I’m not a medic.”
Claudette gestured him to her place, a small shelter made from wood and rope, and Jake lay him down on her makeshift bed. “Let me take a look, can you go fetch Dwight?”
Jake was nervous as he went to find Dwight, and told him they had a new survivor, and led him back to Claudette’s cabin. “I made a discovery.” He was saying, “It’s gotta be in private, and I need to tell you and Claudette.”
Dwight nervously pushed his glasses up his nose, “You’re scaring me, is it good news or bad?”
“Good so far.”
The two entered Claudette’s cabin, to see that she had pulled his shirt off, revealing the scars that littered his body. “God, he’s just a kid.” Dwight breathed. “How did he get so many of these scars?”
As Dwight was taking the killer in, Jake was looking around outside to make sure nobody had followed them, then closed the curtains. “Alright,” He dropped his voice to a whisper, “You two need to promise not to freak out.”
“Once again, you’re freaking me out, Jake.”
“I brought the killer with me.” Jake saw Dwight’s mouth open in alarm, and Claudette dropped the roll of bandages she was holding. He quickly covered their mouths and shushed, “Let me finish. He started talking to me in the trial, he talked about how he didn’t belong here, and how he wanted to go home. I wanted to see if we could share information, and maybe get us all out. I got him through the hatch.”
Dwight rubbed his mouth once Jake took his hands away, “Is that why you stayed? You took a risk, Jake, what if he’s lying?”
“I can read people well, you should’ve seen him break down. He looked devastated.”
“I believe you.” Claudette said, “To think a kid like this was behind so much in the trials, why is he here? He should be going to school, making friends, not to mention the scars…”
“ Yeah.” Jake crouched down to look at the sleeping killer, “So, did you find anything wrong?”
“He has some scratches on his side, with bruises, but no major injuries.”
“Do we tell the others?” Dwight spoke up.
“I say we hold onto this for now, until we get something solid to tell everyone. David won’t be happy to see we’re treating him, but we should tell Jeff. They knew each other, and he should get to know that he’s here.” Jake answered.
Dwight nodded, “Okay, I say we should take watches if he takes more than a few hours to wake up, in case some of us get taken to trial. Jake you should stay here for now, I’ll break the news privately to Jeff.”
“Right.” Jake sat down beside Claudette, the only sound being heard was the soft breathing of the killer beside him.