Chapter Text
August stomps into the cabin, rotting wood creaking in his wake. The place is damp, worn down from lack of use and upkeep. Moss grows asunder, all over the old windows and floor, slipping into fresh cracks. Cobwebs hang silently in dark corners, their silver strings decorated in debris. The furniture sags, weighed down by time. Dust settles in the air, sunlight casting beams through it, lighting pillars of negligence.
He digs a calloused worn hand into his trench coat pocket, pulling out a gold and black Dupont lighter. His other hand reaches for a cigar. The cap flicks open with a clean clink sound, flame blistering up. It catches onto the cig, August breathes in, lungs filling with thick smoke. He shuffles his feet towards the couch and plunks down, making it groan and creak, heavy weight sinking in. An arm is slung over the back, legs spread wide, comfortably. He leans his head back, hat covering his eyes. Breathing out, he contemplates. Smoke floods the air around him, mixing with the dust and ashes of a time long past.
August rolls his eyes, mind swimming with annoyance.
“Damn Brat”
The words echo hollowly around the room, the house uncaring in its sleep. Rats scatter, pitter pattering under floorboards. August cracks his neck, shoulders tense with agitation.
Knocker had been avoiding him.
For weeks now. He’d been stalking around for more victims, players in villages or high upon mountains. August caught him clambering out of a 3 story window once. Fell right on his ass. It was hilarious, if not for him sprinting off once he noticed August was near. He had a habit of teleporting away when confronted, the coward. It wasn't like when they first met.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
August had been stalking around a peculiar settlement of players. They had built a large 4 block wide 8 block tall castle wall, it was quite impressive. Unfortunately for them, he had shadow manipulation powers, only taking a minute of focus to phase through it.
The inside is even more magnificent. Tall pillars of stone spear into the sky, wood bracing it. The windows glisten in the moonlight, sharp angles bouncing light down over the grounds. Farms litter the inside. Wheat, carrots, beets, potatoes. A river can be seen pouring down through the walls, fresh clear water cleverly routed into an irrigation pattern. These players had settled in, quite well it seems.
A woman stands in front of him, standing in shock.
“DAVID”
She shouts.
“THE FREAK IS BACK”
“Who?”
A man, apparently named David, responded from inside.
“The black guy with a knife and a large smile!? the one you call the knocker!?”
She spits at him.
David looks at August through a large arched window, taking in his tall stature and menacing smirk, eyes widening in fear.
“Mel. That's… that’s not the knocker.”
Interesting. . . there's another black figure like him around this area? He’ll have to check that out. Later, when he's not preoccupied with his current hunt.
“Then who is it, you oaf!? You said you only added one dweller!?”
Mel retaliated. Face scrunched in exasperation.
Dweller? Only one? Curious. August raises his knife, smile wide. He has some energy to work through tonight, these players will do well.
“Whats all the commotion about?”
someone around 5 '8, with a coiffed black hairdo walks around the far corner of the castle, sauntering cockily into view. He catches sight of August, and stops in his tracks.
“I thought you only added one?”
He asks, confused.
“THATS WHAT I SAID!”
The woman retorts loudly.
August steps forward, cloak swaying menacingly in his wake. Before he gets too far however, a loud BANG to his left interrupts him. A shadowy figure dashes ahead of him,crashing through the window to David and thrusting a dark red blade in his chest. Blood gushes out, staining the figure's hoodie. David screams,
“FUCK! YOU ROTTEN BASTARD!”
He struggles to yank the figure off. Arms flailing , sword at the ready swinging up. The shadow dissipates before it’s hit, leaving David coughing heavily, shouting curses at the wind. Shoving himself out of the window, into view, he points his sword angrily at where the figure once was.
“HIM! THATS THE KNOCKER!”
’That's the knocker? The ‘one’ and ‘only’ dweller? Interesting, and a bit rude of him to steal my targets.’
The Knocker reappears, falling in from the battlement above, landing on David's back, slamming him painfully into the ground. Mel loads her crossbow, the other unknown man whips outs his trident readying to throw.
August contemplates; although annoying, this knocker seems to make a good companion in crime. He might as well join in, no?
He steps forwards, pulling a gun out of his coat , aiming it at the unknown man.
“STEVE, WATCH OUT!”
Mel shouts.
The man, Steve, locks eyes with August. He trembles in fear at all 9 intimidating feet of him. August naturally towers over anyone, but the dark shrouded corner of the castle walls only heightens his presence. It makes him appear like a real demon. Cloak billowing out behind him, boots steady on the ground. His smile was wide, manic. Blood flowing out of his sockets, leaking down, leeching into his shirt.
His dark red blood thirsty gaze burrows into Steve. David struggles to get up again. August cocks his gun and points it at Steve's forehead. Mel steps forward, unsure where to aim her crossbow. She decides on the knocker, he's the less threatening of the two after all.
Another woman suddenly sprints around the corner, alerted by the screaming.Tall and well built, with a body guarded by high quality netherite armour. August notices she's holding firmly onto a shield and a netherite sword. Her stance suggests she's skilled, clearly the group's main guard or warrior. She dashes forward, shield high, sword loose but firm in her hand, pointed towards August's heart. August fades back into his shadows, the woman flying straight through him. He catches sight of the name ‘ARES’ scrawled into the metal rim of the shield.
Mel shoots her bow, knocker teleports behind her, slashing his knife down into her right shoulder, disabling her. David stands up, wobbling, he chugs a regen and instant health potion. Ares spins around, charging instead at knocker, getting in a successful stab straight through his gut. Steve decides to finally step in, throwing his trident at knocker as well, pinning him to the ground.
It's pathetic, August thinks, how easily a good player can catch him. Clearly he can teleport, and is quite fast, but he knows little about actual fighting tactics. He steps forward lowering his gun, shadowwalking towards knocker with his other arm outstretched to grasp him by his hood, tearing him up from the useless heap he's become, and drags him through his shadows out of the castle walls.
Knocker scrabbles to sit up, hands clenching at his wounds. His breath laboured.
“Pathetic”
August sneers down at him over his nose.
“You could have teleported away? Or disappeared! What kept you there!?”
Knocker flinches at August's admonishment.
“Not like you know anything! You fat brute! You just barged in there and interrupted me!”
Knocker clenches his teeth, blood pooling beneath him. He shakes in pain, shoulders held tight. August looms over him, a cigar now lit in his mouth. He looks down at the man, hunched over clutching his wounds, hood covering his face. August presses his boot to knockers chest, lightly grinding the heel into his wound,
“You’re pathetic”
He leers at him breathing out smoke, it falls to the ground and whispers along the grass catching on Knocker's pants. His hard on doesn't go unnoticed. Knocker looks up at him, mouth twisted in hatred, black drools down his teeth.
“Fuck! You!”
He spits. August smirks. Feisty little thing he is, it'll be so much fun breaking him. He shoves him back, knocker lands with an ‘oof’, quickly planting his hands under him.
“Scram, little mouse”
“I'll HURT YOU!”
Knocker shouts, stumbling upwards and grabbing his knife, he shoves it towards August, it phases right through him. A weak attempt at getting back. August grabs his throat easily in one hand, squeezing lightly.
“Leave here, or I'll make you”
August threatens him, eyes boring into Knockers. Knocker feels his face heat up. He's dropped meanly on the ground and scrabbles out of sight. August huffs, amused, excited even. No more need for those players now. Not when he has such interesting new prey.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
August is dragged back to the present hearing a loud crash slam against the back door of ‘his’ cabin. He stands up, wandering over to check it out. The door is wrenched open, atop the step sits a bloodied hand.
‘Something torn off one of his recent kills, huh?’
August remarks.
Pathetic, he doesn't even have time to stick around and talk to me?
He leans down to pick up the gift, turning it around in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship of its preservation. There's a note tucked in the palm, he tenderly opens it.
‘Here, since you're so set on needing me. You’re NOT welcome’
Hmmp, cute.
August tucks the note into his coat's inner pocket, stashing it alongside the others. He takes the hand and chucks it over into the damp muck on the forest floor. He knows Knocker can do better. Expects it. He trudges back over to the couch, taking another long drag of his cigar. The smoke once again fills his lungs, they're almost as black as his blood by now. He places a foot on the shitty coffee table in front of him, crossing the other leg over it, blowing out the smoke into the air. It settles on the floor, crawling in thin fingers through the floor boards. The cigar is tapped into the ashtray, the walls creak.
‘Nothing to do, may as well go back down memory lane. perhaps that one time they took out a team of 3 together?’
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rain pelted down, curtaining the sky. Clouds hung fat with water, obscuring the moonlight entirely. Trees shook in the harsh winds. The pair was camped under the large awning of a barn. Animals bleated inside, hay and mud could be heard moving around.
It was dark, Knocker hid behind some bushes only two feet away.
They had been scouting out this house for close to a week now. Ever since that night, neither would leave the other alone. Knocker was almost always in August’s shadow, stalking or following him into player territories. It had been mutually decided through numerous frustrating encounters that they'd hunt together now. August pounced on that opportunity, quickly shaping up knockers knife skills and reaction time. It was necessary if he wanted to tag along, August didn't want some 6 ft nothing dragging behind.
The window of the house glowed with warmth. Laughter could be heard from inside, they were celebrating something. What? Neither cared to know. They could only look forward to the upcoming bloodshed.
“You remember our plan right?”
August looks at Knocker, face set.
“Of course I do! What , you think im stupid!?”
August swings his head around, tucking it into his shoulder, a hearty chuckle slips out, he trembles with laughter.
“Hey!”
Knocker whisper shouts, indignant. He brings a hand up to playfully shove August's shoulder.
August takes a minute to recover, then straightens out.
“Ok, I'll go in first, I'll walk along the back and into their storage room. Then you go through the front door, make sure to be as loud as possible. Once you see me in the doorway, you stab the nearest person. I'll grab whoever's at the back, leaving only one guy to defend them both. Got it?”
Knocker nods, hood bouncing on his head. August catches the smirk widening on Knocker’s face. ‘Cute’ he tucks the image in the back of his mind. The only reason he's really out here is for his boyf-...Knockers , amusement. A little playdate, perhaps.
The pair set off in opposite directions, Knocker towards the front door, August towards the back.
He can see the players through the window, merry making and dancing, none the wiser. Good he thinks, easier this way. He runs his hand along the side of the house, knife twirling in the other. The blade sings in the air, telling of his coming, of his excitement. The players inside none the wiser.
He reaches the backdoor and picks it open, slowly striding inside, making sure to place toes first, to keep his steps silent. Keeping an ear out for Knocker, he checks around the area. Food, ores, blocks, junk, redstone. A basic and good storage. The room is clean, showing etiquette.
August stalks to the open doorway leading into the main room. Knocker can be heard slamming open the front door loudly. Paintings shake on the walls, a dog barks out. Perfect coverage for him.
“HEY WHAT THE FUCK!?”
Someone shouts. Things clatter.
“Wait- HELP-”
They've been muffled. Good. Now it’s his turn.
August steps in, grabbing the nearest person and wrapping a thick arm around their neck. Knocker has a guy trapped with his knife to his throat. The one in the middle is shaking in fear. The look on his face? Delightful. Knocker locks eyes with August, they're wide open, same as his. His grin is stretched all the way across his face, black drooling down his hoodie, he looks practically ecstatic.
August chokes his victim out, he fights back, grappling at August’s arm. His foot slams into August’s boot, arm reaching up to claw at his eyes. It merely phases through. He tightens his hold on the guy's neck, quickly finishing the job.
Letting his now limp body crash to the floor, he grabs the only remaining one. Taking out his gun and placing it against his temple.
“No plEASE, I'll DO ANYTHING PLEASE!”
The man begs, writhing in August's hold, desperately trying to escape. The sound is music to his ears. August looks over to Knocker, grin manic. Knocker nods his head, slicing open his victim's throat. Blood gushes out, spraying onto the floor and table. The splash back makes dark crimson run down Knocker's body.
August feels his pants tighten. ‘He looks so, Delicious like this’. No, August shakes his head, clearing it. Focus.
He presses the gun further into the guy's head, tears are streaming down his face ,a meek voice whispering out, begging for mercy. He pulls the trigger, a loud BANG echoes throughout the house. The walls shiver, animals scramble around outside. The bodies are left on the floor. Dead. useless. He thinks about fucking up their beds too, but decides against it.
The pair struts out of the house, covered in blood, smiling in glee. Knocker bumps his elbow into August’s
“I did pretty well didn't I?"
He asks, fishing for compliments.
“Hmmm, sure”
August agrees, a bit reluctantly. Knocker did very well in fact, but August isn't willing to admit that. Knocker doesn't need a bigger ego than he already has.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
August is once again dragged out of his head, his cigar is gone now. He rustles through his coat, none left. ’Godammit’. He’ll have to go make more sometime later, for now he’ll sit back and take a break for once in his somewhat miserable life.
He stares up at the ceiling, the wood has bowed in, leaving an ugly bump in it. Water rushes somewhere outside. Much like his head. He squints up, the wide brim of his hat covering his eyes, and ponders. Knocker had been avoiding him a lot recently.
Too much, he thought. It was odd, he couldn't get the lil freak away from him for longer than a day, previously. He’d been so close, constantly touching him, constantly around, always looking for attention. Like some kind of lovesick puppy. ’heh, i should get him a collar’.
The thought is quickly thrown out of his head. ‘Now is not the time’. He rolls his shoulders, setting his jaw, Knocker would pay. He can't simply drag August in and then drop him like that.
Not after all the time they're spent together. Not after all the effort he put in to making him better. Not since he's fallen into what might be love .
August stands up, knees popping. He shuffles around the table, ashtray set askew. Dragging his sorry ass across the cabin he came to a stop in front of his ‘bed’. A pile of wool vaguely shaped into a nest. It's kept in place by some planks hastily nailed to the floor and walls.
He flops down onto it, promptly groaning in pain. He shuffles around to get comfortable, settling into a starfish. His eyes fall close, body melting slowly into sleep. He’ll have to talk to knocker tomorrow.
