Chapter Text
Phil
The lights flickered overhead, plunging the room into darkness, and Phil tensed, air hissing from the vent beside him and lifting the strands of his hair into his eyes. He huffed, blowing them out of his face and scanning the room. Metal structures rose from the black, vague silhouettes visible in various positions on top. Most were curled up, sitting or lying down with their backs to the walls, but a few stood, watching the room much like he was doing. Techno sat beside him, hands entwined and resting on his tray. The knife lay to his side, seemingly harmless, but Techno could throw it in seconds, or so he'd told Phil. 'Fighting on the streets', he'd said, emotionless, 'since he was a kid'. Phil didn't know how to feel about it, didn't know whether he should feel sympathy, or gratefulness, because at least one of them could defend if someone attacked. It was doubtful they'd go for Techno, considering the nervous looks most of the players gave his friend, leaving plenty of space where Techno walked, but Phil was a different story.
He was far from the oldest person there in the beginning, but there weren't many left after the games. If they were going for the weakest, like most people who fought in the dark, they'd have to consider Phil at some point. Techno seemed to sense his train of thought. "Just stick close" he said gruffly, and Phil nodded, not trusting his voice. A whisper met his ears. The purple eyed boy stood beside them, meters away but close enough that Phil could see his eyes, gleaming in the dark. "Hey" the teen hissed, and Techno tensed, hand moving slowly towards the knife. The boy's eyes flickered to him, and he stepped back, raising his hands. "Hey, hey, none of that" he warned, "I'm not here to hurt you". Phil opened his mouth to speak, but Techno beat him to it.
"Why do you have a knife, then?"
"Woah, dude, chill! Self defense, man! I just came over here to offer a little help, thats all" The boy said quickly, and Phil narrowed his eyes, peering further into the shadows behind the boy. There was no one there, and it didn't feel like a trap. Techno glanced at him, questioning. "Okay" Phil exhaled, "What do you want?" The boy seemed to gain confidence, stepping forward again and letting a small smile cross his face. "I can fight" he stated, "Pretty well, too. If something's going to happen, like your friend said, i can help you. Especially the old man" Phil bristled, ignoring the pang he felt at the word 'friend' in reference to Wilbur. He began to speak, but Techno's voice sounded over his. "Fine" he said, "but go back to where you came from. We'll pick you up if anything starts". The boy looked offended, but nodded, leaning forwards in a mocking bow.
"Anything for you" he gestured, and spun on his heel before Phil could reply. Techno huffed in amusement.
"Old man"
"Shut!" Phil hissed, elbowing his friend, but Techno just slid easily to the side. Smiling to himself, Phil turned back to the room, eyes falling onto the furthest metal structure. Wilbur's lanky form was visible from across the room, and beside him, Ranboo, the two unnaturally stiff as they waited on the edge of the structure. Phil could see Wilbur's legs swinging, his nervousness showing in every movement, and Ranboo's shoulders were hunched, head inclined towards the floor in a stark comparison to Wilbur, who was watching every player's movements, head turning like he was watching a tennis match. "They'll be okay, Phil" Techno reassured, but his hand stayed near his knife, and his eyes didn't leave their corner.
"Yeah" Phil breathed, looking to the group beside Wilbur, three forms huddled together, knives clutched in ready hands. "Yeah, they'll be fine". The time passed, seconds ticking into minutes, or at least Phil thought. He didn't have a watch. It seemed a while, though, sitting quietly in the dark, not even daring to speak to someone barely beside him. Techno was still beside him, tension lining his shoulders, but Phil didn't trust himself to speak, couldn't think of a single thing to say to reassure his friend, or himself. He could only wait, eyes strained to see through the black. His eyes dropped to the group of three, but he could only spot two figures, crouched low. "Techno" he said quickly, and his friend moved closer, eyes tracking Phil's pointing hand. "Techno, where's the other guy?" A clatter rung out in the otherwise silent room, and a shadowed figure dropped from the tallest structure, crumpling against the cold, unforgiving tiles with a muffled crunch. Phil clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to stop a scream, and Techno straightened, hand straying towards his knife. The room was silent, for a moment.
And then a scream rang out, a horrible sound that grew higher and higher until it was cut off, another thump sounding around the room as a shadowy form stood tall, drawing Phil's eyes from across the room. He saw the knife, first, the metal stained with a substance Phil knew distantly was blood. Then he saw the body at his feet. Liquid pooled around the woman's chest, black in the shadowed room. "Phil" Techno whispered, but Phil couldn't move, limbs frozen as the man stepped back, a hoarse cry of victory leaving his mouth and making Phil flinch backwards into Techno. "Phil, we have to go". Phil shook his head, slowly, eyes still fixed on the two fallen players. Techno groaned, gently tugging him backwards, and Phil couldn't move a hand to stop him. A calloused hand cupped his face, forcing his eyes up to meet Techno's. "We're going to be okay, Phil" his friend promised. "But we have to go". Phil nodded, hesitantly at first, and then stronger, as the buzzing that had clouded his thoughts faded slightly.
He stood, slow, sluggish movements, but movement all the same, and shot Techno a grateful smile. "Thanks, mate". A scream rang out, drowning out Techno's reply, and Phil felt panic rush through him, adrenaline forcing his body into motion. Techno helped him down, and he kept his eyes on the metal he balanced on, not looking up even when more screams started up around them, joining the thundering of footsteps as people ran from corner to corner, knives flashing dangerously. The lights flickered overhead, casting sinister shadows, and grew brighter, the room briefly illuminated in flashes of white. He could see Wilbur, backed against the wall with his tray held in front of him like a shield, eyes wide and afraid as a man fell to the floor before him, red staining his shirt and creeping over the tiles. The lights died, and Phil heard another scream, long and high pitched, and then a crashing sound as one of the structures toppled to the floor, the floor cracking against its weight as it hit the floor and bounced, clouds of dust and plaster further obstructing his view. He fell, feet slipping on the smooth metal and crashing to the tiles, bones crying out in protest.
A woman stumbled before him, knife slicing through the air towards his face and he rolled, leg kicking upwards and pushing him away, and the blade passed harmlessly through the air mere inches from his face. He held back a scream, knowing it would draw more attention to himself, but the woman yelled, an inhumane sound that forced its way up her throat, and swung for him again as he scrabbled backwards. A hand latched on to his shirt and he screamed, trying to push away, but the grip was unyielding, twisting him around and out of the way. He kicked out, but it did nothing, and he was pulled backwards, watching in horror as a boy threw himself at the woman, knife embedding itself in her side over and over again as the boy pushed her to the floor Phil had lain on just seconds before. "Phil! Phil!" he heard, but the screaming was louder, coming from every direction. He curled in on himself, hands over his ears, but nothing blocked out the noise. A familiar hand grabbed onto his hands and lowered them, and Techno's face came into view, fear in his friends eyes. "Phil, you have to stop" Techno begged, and Phil realized it was him screaming, the sound dying as he gasped for air.
"M' sorry" he rasped, voice hoarse, and Techno shook his head.
"It's alright." Another face came into Phil's line of sight. The boy from before stared at him with an unrecognizable expression, gaze not leaving his face as Phil sunk back to the ground, heaving in mouthfuls of cool air. "Is he...good?" he asked, and Phil laughed, a strangled sound, but a laugh nevertheless. He nodded, and the boy held out a hand, pulling Phil up from the ground as he peered around the room. About half of the metal structures were fallen, a domino effect from the first, and the lights lit up the room in fragmented images, going dark every time Phil tried to recognize a face. The ground was slippery with red, and knives lay scattered across the tiles, gleaming threateningly as players hopped over them, either going for someone else or being chased. The boy leaned forward and picked another, spinning it in his fingers. Phil tried to hold back a gag as red stained his fingernails, but the boy just laughed, stepping forward and slashing a path through the crowd, no concern for who he hit. The players scuttled back and Techno pushed him forward, hands raised in front of his chest as he tracked every gleam of metal, every slight movement behind or to his side.
"Where's Wilbur?" Techno asked in a low voice, and Phil scanned the room, trying to find his familiar figure, but there was nothing. "Phil!" Techno hissed, steering him away from a boy who bared his teeth, his knife waving deadly patterns in the air. There was no sight of Wilbur, nothing but the flashing lights and red stains, rushing shadows and shining metal. "I can't see him, Techno!"
"Okay, okay" Techno muttered, "Get to the wall. Keep your knife, i don't trust that kid, but stick close to him. Attack first, Phil". Then he was slipping away, braid flicking through the air as he dodged and sliced, spinning in a deadly dance as he fought through the dark crowd. "Techno!" Phil called, but he was already gone, lost to the shadows. The boy appeared at his side again, chest heaving but a wicked grin spreading across his face. He swept blonde hair out of his eyes, and turned to Phil, grin fading slightly. "Coming, old man?" Nodding, he stepped back, eyes still fixed on the spot his friend had disappeared. The boy followed his line of sight and huffed. "He'll be fine, old man. Just get out of the way, come on" Before Phil knew it, he was being tugged backwards with a squawk of indignation, but it worked, at least. He slumped against the wall, cool plaster meeting his skin as he closed his eyes in exhaustion. The boy dropped to his knees before him. "None of that!" he cried, gesticulating wildly, knife still in his hand. Phil watched with wide eyes, but the boy glanced down at the knife in his hand and grimaced, placing it down beside him. "I can't have you falling asleep on me, dude!"
Phil rolled his eyes, but straightened, rubbing his eyes to see better. The boy slid down beside him, and Phil realized with a jolt of shock he didn't even know his name. He turned to ask, mouth parted, and the boy smiled slightly. "It's Purpled, by the way" he said, thrusting out a bloodstained hand. Phil shook it gingerly, eyes wide, but it wasn't the weirdest thing that had happened that day. He supposed there was worse names, too. At least it wasn't basic. "Mine's Phil" he said, "So you can stop calling me old man". Purpled shook his head, grinning despite the horrors that surrounded them. "Nah, old man. Gotta look after my elders, you know?" Phil huffed. Maybe they were both covered in blood, maybe Techno was fighting his way through a crowd of strangers to get to a friend who wasn't even talking to them, but they were safe there, backs pressed against a cold wall and joking as loudly as they dared.
Wilbur
Wilbur pushed back against the grip that held him, elbows coming up and fists curling to hit the man in the face, but nothing shook his hold. The tray lay abandoned by his feet, his only defense fallen in the first few seconds of the struggle. He couldn't see Ranboo, couldn't see anything but the knife tracing through the air before his face. "Let me go!" he screamed, but it was lost to the chaos, his voice joining many others in a horrible symphony of cries. The man grinned, teeth showing, and Wilbur flinched back, trying to still his ragged breathing. He could feel the cool metal of his knife, hidden securely in his back pocket. The man smiled wider. "What, pretty boy? Scared, are you?" he taunted, shoving Wilbur back, his head cracking against the wall with a horrible crunch. His fingers touched the edge of the blade, running along the carved wooden handle. "Cat got your tongue?" the man scowled, pressing him against the wall, and Wilbur tightened his grip. He looked past the man, meeting Ranboo's eyes. The teen stood alone, taller than the crowd around him despite his hunched posture, eyes flashing with horror as he saw Wilbur's position. He tried to jerk his head, to get Ranboo to look away, but the boy was unmoving, knuckles white around his tray and knife held in a trembling hand.
The man turned to follow Wilbur's gaze and Ranboo flinched back, Wilbur staggering forwards as the grip on his shirt loosening. Gasping for breath, he met Ranboo's eyes, wide and terrified as the man took a step towards him. It was enough. He pulled out his knife, the metal gleaming as the lights flickered above them, sparks flying down from the bulb like a strange kind of snow. 'Don't look' he mouthed, and Ranboo shook his head, slowly then more firmly, the fear replaced by something unreadable. Before he could blink, before Wilbur could even register what he was doing, his hand shot forward, blood spraying over his torso as the metal hit the man's back and plunged deep. The man screamed, a hoarse, animal sound that made Wilbur recoil, hand slipping off the handle as his attacker tilted, falling to his knees with a strangled yell. Ranboo stumbled backwards, and a yell of warning rose in Wilbur's throat as he narrowly missed another knife, slicing off a few curls, but the teen fell to the side, against the metal structure. Hurt and terrified, but still alive.
"Wilbur!" a yell sounded out, and Wilbur stepped backwards, mind going blank as he took in the body before him. The man's face was frozen in a look of savage anger, the knife blade twisted further into his back as he'd fallen, his eyes open, whites showing. He didn't look human, sprawled out before him. He was dead. And Wilbur...Wilbur had killed him. The call came again, from somewhere to his left, and Wilbur spun, emptying his stomach on the floor next to him, its contents mixing with the red already pooling near his feet. A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched, a muffled scream escaping him as he flailed. A low voice greeted him, talking urgently, but the words went in one ear and out the other. "....Wilbur? Wilbur, we have to go" Techno was saying, trying to pull him sideways, away from the body. "Go away" Wilbur gasped, pushing weakly against Techno's chest, but it didn't do a thing. "Wilbur, i know you're angry, okay" he said, a note of frustration in his voice, "but we have to go, unless you want to die here". And that was the big question, wasn't it?
Wilbur couldn't say he knew, anymore. He was still there by some stroke of luck, some cursed twist of fate that left him standing when Tommy played his last card, when Tubbo fumbled with the ball despite Wilbur being the one that couldn't catch. He'd been grateful, for a bit, thankful that he still had a second chance, but not anymore. He'd just killed a man, and it wasn't like Niki, this time. He couldn't claim ignorance, not when he'd held the knife steady, not when he'd been glad when the man had fallen, a horrible voice screaming victory in a corner of his mind. Techno pulled at his arm, again, and Wilbur laughed to himself, a high, bitter sound. He could feel the man's concerned gaze, sense Ranboo's anxiety from across the room, but he didn't care. They had their problems, too. Wilbur's were just a little more....drastic. "Wilbur?" Ranboo's voice greeted his ears, stress making his words faster, and Wilbur looked up, meeting his eyes with an entirely false smile.
Ranboo looked down, twisting his hands together. Wilbur saw the ring, again, gleaming in the flash of brilliance from the lights. "It's not your fault" he murmured, but it was quiet enough that Wilbur doubted he believed it. Techno coughed and pushed him forwards again, and Wilbur glared up at him, pushing himself upright and flashing a savage grin at the man, who looked even more uncomfortable. "Where's Phil?" he asked, a fake nonchalance to his tone. He hadn't seen the bucket hat anywhere, and as much as he tried to convince himself he didn't care, a large part of him recoiled at the idea of finding the same bucket hat, stained with red and trampled underfoot, it's owner far gone. "He's fine" Techno said curtly, pointing to the side. Wilbur saw Phil, talking cheerfully with a boy around Tommy's age, blonde hair a lighter shade but similar enough to hurt. He pushed down the pain at the sight, looking back at the room. The man's body had been lost to the dark, but plenty more were visible, and figures struggled closer to the door, limbs flying and knives carving through the air, followed by sprays of red.
He stepped forward and Techno hissed out a warning, hand stretching out to pull him back, but it was too late. His foot crunched onto something soft, and his ankle twisted, sending him stumbling sideways, away from the path of safety Techno had provided. The lights flickered momentarily, leaving him stranded in the dark, and when he opened them, a woman stood before him, a wicked grin on her face as she lunged for him. "Wilbur!" Ranboo's cry met his ears, the boy scanning the room frantically, but Wilbur was too busy dodging attacks to reply. He was running on pure adrenaline, now, knife still lodged in the man's back and tray abandoned by the opposite wall. The woman seemed to sense his terror, attacks growing faster and more panicked as she pushed him back, towards the wall. He could see Techno, over her shoulder, fighting desperately towards him, and the teen behind him, mouth open in a silent scream. He spun, trying to fend off another attack, and now he could see Phil, scrambling to his feet.
The boy beside him frowned and looked up, worried eyes meeting Wilbur's before the woman lunged again, knife glinting as it sliced through the air beside his arm. He hissed in pain, red blooming from a small cut. "Wilbur!" Phil yelled, bucket hat falling to the side and revealing blonde strands, and Wilbur smiled slightly as he scrambled to keep it on, even as he fought his way to Techno's side, the boy with purple eyes a deadly force behind him. The woman took a stumbling step to the side, knife sliding towards him, and he retreated again, back hitting the wall, the knife mere inches from his face. He was stuck. He saw the moment she realized, a flash of wild joy in her eyes as his legs gave out beneath him, hands scrabbling for purchase to keep him upright. "Nowhere to run!" she shrieked, a mad sound, and her voice rung in his ears, joining the frantic yells of his friends. Techno slashed forward one more time, and the path was clear, the man rushing towards him, but it was too late.
He opened his mouth and finally, finally screamed, smooth metal cutting into his skin and pressing deeper, pain flaring up his side and his vision whiting out as he slid further down, body limp. His ears buzzed, screams vaguely registering, but they seemed far away, like he was hearing them through glass. He fought to keep his eyes open, but the black pressed in on him, vision growing foggy as dark specks crawled across his sight. "Wilbur!" a cry sounded out, and the woman was being flung to the side, crumpling against the metal with a sickening crack as Techno fell to his knees beside him. Ranboo joined him, hands frantically pressing against his side in an attempt to stop the blood, but it was already pooling past his hands, coating them in maroon as Wilbur struggled to stay upright. "It's...okay" he got out, the words escaping his mouth in one last attempt, "wasn't meant to be" he shot Ranboo a final smile, this one genuine, but he closed his eyes before he could see the boy's response, vision fading fast and the world going quiet as he slipped away, into the welcoming embrace of oblivion. His chest rose and fell one last time, and then he was still. Gone, in seconds.
He didn't see the silent sobs racking Techno's body, didn't hear the frantic words passed over him as Phil fell beside him, tears streaming down the man's face as he wiped Wilbur's face with the soft fabric of his hat, a shaking hand cupping his face as the man wailed, head pressed to Wilbur's chest. He didn't see Ranboo, rocking back and forth, ring cutting into his face as he swiped away the wetness under his eyes, a muffled cry escaping him as he pressed his mouth into his hand. Wilbur was gone, so he didn't see the lights flicker and steady, bright white illuminating the room. He wasn't there as the guards reentered, carrying wooden boxes tied shut with bows the color of the red that coated his side. And he wasn't there when Techno cradled him in his arms, unwilling for his friend to be taken, struggling back even as the guards shouldered their guns and threw his cold body into the nearest box without so much as a glance at his face. Wilbur Soot would be buried far from home, in an abandoned field with hundreds of others, unmarked gravestones and rotted flowers the only sign that something had happened. His mother would get a call, days later, from an unfamiliar police officer, notifying her of his absence, and a similar call would be made to Niki's parents, the two friends forever marked as missing cases. The world would never know Wilbur, never hear his music or listen as he sang to the open windows of his apartment. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back.