Chapter Text
The more Emily Dyer stared at the perfumer, the more irritating she seems to become.
With a elegant and sharp turn of her head, her perfect, poised hands laid on her lap, Vera Nair’s heavy lined eyes narrowed, looking at the doctor.
‘I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring at me.’
The doctor coughed lightly, pale cheeks now dusted with a light pink, and turned away. Vera fixed her stare at the countdown, dread and anticipation for today’s match pooling in her stomach. She glanced at the velvety crimson curtain behind her and prayed that the Hunter would give her a good kite.
‘...Good luck, everyone,’
Helena’s soft voice rang out in the stiff silence, her words bouncing around the hall that was laced with webs of mystery, and Vera watched as the intricate candlelit chandelier above them flickered out as the countdown reached zero, and felt swirls of a dark haze fill her vision.
***************
As the cipher shook violently, signalling the arrival of yet another calibration, Vera confidently ran her long, pointed fingers through the machine, successfully and efficiently finishing the calibration smoothly. Usually the cipher wouldn’t even be past half, but with Helena by her side, the speed of decoding has drastically quickened. Vera watched as her companion’s nimble fingers flew over the cipher, flowing into a dance of some sort. Vera makes a mental note to remember on why people call her the minds eye. The girl may be blind but somehow she’s the fastest decoder in the manor.
As she and Helena finished the last bit of a calibration, the cipher lets out a creaking sound, and Vera knows the cipher is done. She and Helena split up, making up an excuse saying that they would cover more ground. Vera knows that the best strategy while playing in a new map is to stick together but honestly, Vera just wants to find the Hunter and kite. This new map is incredibly big and strange, and from what she’s seen she assumes this is some kind of remake of a clinic. Her mind temporarily flickers to that stuck up doctor. She wonders if the host deliberately made this map just to spite Dyer.
Vera looked down at her bracelet that was glitching out slightly. 2 ciphers down, 3 more to go. Norton seems to be kiting pretty decently. So far it’s been 120 seconds and he’s on one hit.
She gripped her bottles of Euphoria tightly. Vera walked across the dim hallway, albeit for the small streams of sunlight trailing down from above. She passed rows and rows of heavy, locked iron doors, each with a nameplate and a number on it. The oppressive atmosphere loomed over her, and Vera began to feel unnerved. What kind of hospital even is this?
Swallowing, Vera quickened her pace, and the bracelet on her wrist buzzed. It was from Norton.
Beware! The Hunter has changed targets!
Pinging back a ‘focus on decoding!’ Vera grinned, happy that everything was going so smoothly,
Until she feels the erratic, uncomfortable lurch in her chest, and her heart started to emit a faint, purple glow. If possible, Vera’s grin grew even wider.
Aha! Finally something exciting...!
Vera dashed to the nearest pallet, pulled it down, and whipped her head around to see who she will be facing today.
...Female. Elegant figure. Choppy blonde hair. A familiar dark shade of lipstick. Aristocratic features.
Vera smiled graciously, bowing a little in front of the fallen queen.
‘Why hello, Vera. It’s nice to see you around,’ Mary smiled pleasantly as she punctured her weapon into the piece of wood between them, and Vera noticed small trails of blood sliding off the edges of the broken mirror shard. Probably Norton’s. ‘How are you?’
Very laughed airily as she ducked and Mary swung again, missing her head by mere millimetres.
‘You kind of startled me there,’ She started, leaping away. ‘Just so you know, I plan on winning today, milady. I’m having a little bet with Mr Carl, you see.’
‘Hmmm,’ Mary replied, mirth twinkling in her black eyes, and under that, Vera detected a flash of eagerness. ‘Not if I send you flying back to the Manor first,’
And with that, they started settling in their respective roles, the Hunter and the Survivor. Mary’s sharp and precise cuts were aiming to kill, not maim, and she carried forward without a hint of hesitation. The thrill of it all engulfed Vera, and she revelled in that horrible, horrible feeling as if her heart was about to be forcibly ripped out from her chest. She danced around the taller woman, the sensation of turbulent fear travelling throughout her body, making her lightheaded with overwhelming anxiety.
And she embraced it in full, because these matches were one of the only things that made her feel something so intense , since-
Mary brought down her weapon again, jolting Vera back from her wandering thoughts. This time, the jagged blade sliced open a thin layer of skin on her left leg, and red dots seemed to spout from it. Vera sucked in a sharp breath and she jumped over a window, stalling for time. Then she glanced nervously at her bracelet. Would this count as a hit...?
Apparently not, because the tiny status icon on her bracelet said otherwise. The wound must have been too insignificant to be called a ‘hit’. She looped around the window, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Mary raising up her weaponless hand, twisting her long, elegant fingers in this particular order-
And felt another surge of air leave her body as a transparent yet corporeal body slammed onto her back. she staggered forward, readying her bottles of perfume as she came face to face with an ethereal woman. It’s elegant figure donned a majestic gown, it’s layers and layers of fabric wreathed with ruffles and ribbons and feathers, and it’s luxurious blonde hair was styled up in a fancy bun. It was wearing a familiar dark shade of lipstick, had aristocratic features...
...And the stitches that were supposed to be lining her slender throat were not there.
Mary’s mirror image was what Mary had looked like before her life was thrown away. The vain queen now adorned a puffy white dress soaked with her own blood from her execution, her now choppy blonde hair falling just an inch above her severed neck. She would be dressed like that for the rest of eternity, and Vera thinks the host is cruel for reminding Mary daily about what she had lost.
But it does not matter. What Vera needs to focus on right now is her kite, because if she went down in less than a minute she will never hear the end of it from Norton and also Aesop, who she was having a bet on who could kite longer. It was rather childish, and being childish is unladylike, but Vera doesn’t think much of it. Aesop has a way of making her feel lighter. Happier. And so far, all Vera could feel was the confidence of her earlier statement going slightly sour.
As real Mary jabbed the air forcefully, her mirror image did the same. Vera gasped as she ducked, and Mary advanced. Vera eyes darted across the two approaching opponents, going through her escape options. Mary was doing her usual tactic, using her mirror image to corner the her victims. The problem is, unfortunately for the perfumer, is that this tactic usually goes in The huntress’s favour. Vera knows she can’t juke both Mary and mirror Mary, and even if she made a run for the nearest pallet, she would have to take a hit. There wasn’t enough time.
Looks like Vera would have to sacrifice one of her precious bottles of Euphoria. Sighing, she withdrew the small vial of perfume out, spraying the air with it.
The perfume truly lived up to it’s name. As Vera breathed in the sweet aroma, her vision and hearing sharpened, the tension in her shoulders loosened, and she felt deliriously euphoric. Her violet tinged world seemed to move in slow motion, and she could hear nothing but her own heartbeat.
And for a second, it seemed as if she was Chloe again, honing her concoctions into perfection in her room with Vera by her side.
What?
Vera was jerked back violently into reality as Mary sunk her weapon into her shoulder, and just like that, that violet tinged world was gone in a blink, along with the fresh injury Mary had just inflicted on her.
Vera heard Mary let out a huff of exasperation.
‘...nice perfume,’ Mary said. It sounded a bit strained. ‘You’ve improved.’
‘Hmm,’ Vera mumbled back in response, too out of breath to say anything else.
Then they continued their intense match of cat and mouse. They wove through the map, a never ending charade of the reflections of the past. (Literally) Time seemed to go on forever and Vera could feel her breathing starting to become shallow, and her throat seemingly on fire. Small rivulets of blood were now running down from all the cuts Mary had delivered. Vera tried to keep steady, but it was clear her momentum was winding down rapidly. Unluckily for the perfumer, the Queen kept chase at a relentless pace, showing no mercy.
Pinging a ‘help me!’, Vera crashed through a wooden door, desperate to find something that could help her dire situation. Beyond the door, everything was blanketed in a dark grey, the only light source coming from a single ceiling light that was flickering out, filling the room with a dim, eerie glow. The room resembled an auditorium, complete with a deteriorating stage and a grand piano playing by itself, silver shades of secrets and mystery hidden inside it’s keys.
Vera feels as she has heard this melody somewhere, in a distant corner of her memories, but a part of her knows that this was another of the host’s tricks. In fact, she’s pretty sure she has never heard of this song before. Still, she tries to grasp onto the lingering wave of fake nostalgia, willingly letting her emotions get manipulated into a state of calm.
Mary had also slowed down too, drawn towards the piano. Then, she shook her head and turned her gaze back onto her prey.
Vera was trapped. And she was so, so tired. However, she still tries, each gulp of air somehow leaving her more and more breathless. She barely registers the the two messages popping up on her bracelet, the words now becoming a blur. The perfumer then crumpled to the cold, hard floor, feeling her injuries catch up to her. She looked up, and saw Mary raising her mirror shard, ready to plunge in her weapon, with a slightly apologetic smile on her face.
Damn. Looks like Vera had lost the bet.
She braces herself for the blow. Oh, this was going to hurt awfully.
It never comes.
The door slams open with gusto, and it literally gets blown up, sending debris flying everywhere. Vera watched in bewilderment as two things got tossed up high in the air, attaching themselves on the huntress.
Vera’s initial confusion quickly turned to relief as she distinguished what exactly what those ‘things’ were.
Magnets!
Mary let out a small squeak of indignation as she gets pushed away, slamming into the back wall. Vera winced at the sheer force of the impact.
‘Sup, princess. You called?’
With smoke billowing behind him, Norton Campbell was leaning against what remains of the doorway, grinning, his eyes sparkling with malicious delight. His tousled black hair, tanned face and clothes were covered in grime and dust, and he was also drenched with blood.
Vera thinks he has never looked better before.
Behind the prospector, the doctor appears, looking at the scene with disdain.
‘You’ve ought to be a bit more careful,’ Emily murmured, sterilising Norton’s arm with a cotton swab, which was glistening with a dark crimson. She then wrapped it up, hands moving at unimaginable speed. Norton rushed to Vera’s side. He was still smiling, although Vera sees a flicker of something she can’t quite decipher in his expression. She studied him curiously.
‘Are you alright?’ Vera whispered, looking straight into Norton’s umber eyes.
Norton’s smile wavered for a split second.
‘Of course, princess. Why would I not be?’
Wordlessly, Emily wrapped Vera around her shoulders, mouthing a ‘go’ towards the prospector, nodding towards the approaching huntress.
Mary was quite the sight. She looked frazzled, so unlike her graceful demeanour she displayed just a few seconds ago, and she was brushing off a layer of dust from her dress, which was tattered and covered in holes. Nevertheless, she still looked as menacing as ever, eyes now narrowed into a slit. She raised her weapon-
‘...pesky survivors and their peskier magnets...!’
Vera’s breath hitched in her throat, knowing what’s about to come.
Mary plunged her jagged mirror deep into Norton, and jerked upwards. Norton let out a choked gasp, fingers tentatively reaching towards at his chest.
The huntress then withdrew her blade from the prospector, frowning.
‘oh.’ Norton’s voice trembled, his eyes going out of focus. Time seemed to still as he teetered on his feet, a deep shade of carmine starting to grow across his grey shirt, and a dark substance dribbled out his mouth, dripping onto the ground. The sound of each drop hitting the cold, hard floor rung in Vera’s ears, and her gaze met Norton’s.
His clouded eyes were wide, seeing nothing, and his lips wobbled slightly.
And Vera finally realised what exactly was in his expression.
fear.
... Of course. Forget about dying, being in a dark, claustrophobic area that was recently blown up itself must have hit too close to home.
Norton sagged, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and Emily immediately let go of Vera and caught him instead, doctor instincts kicking in. However, the doctor’s petite figure couldn’t withstand the prospector’s weight, and both of them sank to the floor. Norton’s head now hung limply at her side, hands unfurling and hitting the floor with a soft thud.
A deep gong chimed above them, reverberating through the map with finality. Emily and Vera’s bracelets started to flash a recurring message in bright red.
Norton Campbell (the prospector)- incapacitated.
Vera watched helplessly as Norton ‘died’ in the doctor’s arms. Witnessing a teammate’s death was always extremely graphic and it would stick to her for the rest of the week, no matter how much times she had seen it happen. Even worse, Norton probably thought he was back in the mine during his last moments. Vera’s heart clenched with guilt, and red hot flames flared from her guts to her throat, angry at herself for not being able to provide some sort of solace to the prospector, since she knew him the best.
Blinking, then taking in a sharp breath, Emily wrapped Vera around her waist and ran, Mary hot on their heels. Vera tore her gaze away from Norton and looked up blearily, letting the doctor lead the way. She hated being in this state: so vulnerable and helpless, and the fact that she was depending on Emily Dyer , no less. Just thinking about the condescending looks she’ll receive from the doctor after this match already made Vera feel irritated. In spite of that, a small part of her is grateful for those strong, steady arms that clung to her, making her feel slightly safer. It was so strange- with the way Emily ran with such certainty, face blazing with determination, it was almost as if she knew where she was going. They zipped past hallway after hallway, wind blowing across their faces, it’s cold embrace sending shivers down their spines.
Vera felt so... alive.
She let out a elated laugh, and ignored the doctor’s hard glare, savouring this fleeting moment of pure happiness. Which was insanity, considering that she had just watched her friend get stabbed in the chest.
(Well, no matter. They would somehow miraculously survive, they always did.)
Emily was nearing the end of another hallway. Vera recognised this one, it was the same hallway she had started her kite with, with the locked cells and depressing shades of blue grey. Mary’s mirror image rose from the ground, blocking their exit, and Emily skidded into such a abrupt halt, a rush of vertigo shot through Vera, and her heart skipped a beat.
Vera wasted no time. She sprayed her last bottle of perfume, hoping it would distract Mary, and pushed Emily into the last room of the corridor, barricading the door. (Pallet) Good. Worse case scenario Mary would find them in less than thirty seconds, which was enough time for Emily to heal one of them.
Vera glanced around the room. It was dark (what’s new?), and was encased in a faint yellow glow, due to the singular ceiling light that shuddered on and off above them. The walls were slick with oily grime and soot, broken tiles strewn across the rotting floor.
And in the middle of the room, lain sideways, was an electroshock chair.
Vera hesitantly took a step backwards, and her eyes flitted towards the back wall, and what she saw unsettled her even more.
Lydia will stand by Lisa’s side forever and ever.
The words were written with long, sure strokes, seemingly there to reassure the poor patient that was receiving the electroshock therapy, and Vera thinks whoever wrote that- Lydia, perhaps- did a terrible job, because all she could feel horror and uncertainty rising in her.
Vera laughed nervously, and her hand unintentionally found their way into Emily’s, fingers lacing, seeking for some sort of comfort.
With Vera being all occupied by observing how unsettling this cell was, it completely slipped out of her mind that it how jarring it was to have the room become incredibly quiet all of a sudden. Now the silence was deafening, and she looked to her right, hands now gripping onto each other tightly, confused.
Emily was completely still, all colour gone from her face, making her look sickly in the dim lighting of the room. She was staring straight at the message engraved on the wall.
She looked so shocked, and so hurt, Vera began to feel worried. Worried! For the doctor? Vera thinks she has lost her mind. Nevertheless, despite her rocky relationship with Emily, she also hates seeing her like this. What Emily was displaying right now was private, a completely unguarded side of her that wasn’t supposed to be seen. To pry into. So Vera swung Emily around, and held her at arms length, panting slightly. The taller girl looked terribly baffled, her russet brown eyes blinking.
‘Snap out of it,’ Vera hissed, words coming out harsher than she had intended.
Emily shrivelled slightly, and immediately went back to her usual stoic self, any trace of vulnerability gone in a second. Huffing, she brushed off Vera’s fingers that were still digging into her blue cardigan, and turned away. If it weren’t for the fact that her pointed ears were now pink with embarrassment, Vera would have thought she had just imagined this entire ordeal. The perfumer feels a twinge of mortification rise in her as she realises what she has done.
With growing horror, Vera then realises that her heart was glowing rather brightly, the vivid shade of violet illuminating her face in strange shadows.
Mary chooses this moment to blink in, smug smile plastered on her face. At the same time, Vera and Emily’s bracelets buzzed. A message from Helena!
Cipher machine primed!
DON’T POP IT YET! Vera almost screams, dodging a strike from Mary. Another message flashes, this time from Emily, who was over the pallet, hands reaching our for Vera’s.
The Hunter is near me!
Vera clasped Emily’s hand, and the two girls tumbled over. Mary growled, frustrated. As she broke the pallet in half, Vera and Emily rushed away, and turned the corridor.
The mind’s eye was there, hands raised over the cipher machine.
‘POP IT!’ Vera screamed, and Helena nodded, pushing her finger on a button. At once, a loud horn sounded across the map, and the three remaining survivors felt a sudden boost of energy. Vera grabbed the blind girl, and ran. The pink haired girl let out a small gasp of distress as she her glasses fell.
Gritting her teeth, Vera dove back in, narrowly missing Mary’s sharp blade. Vera notices the huntress’s eyes were now glowing with a scarlet red, and small trails of smoke rose from her, curling into the air.
Helena yelped, and pulled Vera to the side as the huntress stuck again, forcefully, sending a cold gust of wind down. Helena slammed down a pallet as she Mary’s footsteps echoed closer, and it hit the huntress. Vera looked at Helena with newfound respect. The minds eye was panting, pink hair fluttering, her cheeks flushed. It must be hard to kite without sight, depending only on touch and sound. She flashed Helena a grateful smile, temporarily forgetting the girl couldn’t exactly see.
Oh right! The glasses!
Vera noticed a golden rimmed glasses on the floor. She picked it up, gently putting it back on the Helena’s face.
Mary’s mirror image rose from the ground, looming over their heads. Vera reached for her perfume-
Her hands found nothing. Vera cursed- elegantly of course, and pushed Helena over to the side, a futile attempt to keep her out of harm’s way. Mary swung again.
This time, Vera feels a searing pain explode across her stomach. she then crashed onto the ground, clawing at the floor, feeling tears of pain prick up in her eyes. In the corner, Helena stood shaking, her left leg cut wide open, vivid shades of scarlet gleaming, unsure of what to do. Vera feels herself becoming lightheaded by the second, waves of life slipping away, along with the dark, sticky liquid that was starting to pool around her. Her bracelet buzzed.
Vera Nair (the perfumer) -incapacitated.
‘Go!’ Vera says firmly, with all the energy she could muster. Helena nodded, her blank eyes darting around fearfully, then brought down her cane, and a cool sensation washed over Vera. The minds eye then ran, slipping out Mary’s grasp. Vera winced, the pain becoming unbearable. She looked up through her blurred tears, and saw Mary, with a indescribable expression on her face.
The huntress stared at the retreating pink haired girl, and sighed.
‘Hmm. Since I’m feeling nice today, I’ll give you a tie,’ she sniffed, in that posh, french accented drawl of hers.
If Vera wasn’t so drained, she would have laughed.
Mary picked Vera up very gently, humming a soft tune, wrapping her arms around the frail perfumer, and she feels a surge of dizziness rush through her. She stared at the ceiling that looked so far away, noting how the windows that were so high up, they only illuminated the top part of the corridor with specks of dust that glowed from the sunlight, sending shadows cascading down, disappearing into the darkness that enveloped the rest of the map. It looked beautiful. Entrancing, even.
Mary sat her down on a chair, fireworks tied up against it. Vera feels blood sliding down her thighs, the air mingling with the smell of copper, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
‘They’re purple,’ Mary quipped, gesturing at the fireworks. ‘Your favourite color,’
At this, Vera couldn’t help choking out a giggle. She turned her gaze at the huntress.
‘Thank you,’
Mary looked at her in surprise. The queen then gave her a curt nod, turning away.
The rocket chair started to rise, and Vera slipped into unconsciousness.
**************
The perfumer later awoke in a white room with blinding light.
‘You’re up,’ a voice rang out, and Emily Dyer’s face came into view.
Vera shot up, surprised by their proximity, then promptly collapsed back into her bed, sharp stabs of pain flaring up.
‘Oh!’ She breathed out, feeling woozy.
The doctor remained thoroughly unimpressed. ‘Don’t move.’
Vera squeezed her eyes shut as Emily wrapped up her wound again, letting out breathless, choked exclamations when the pain became too severe.
So she was in the hospital wing again. Surprise, surprise.
She lifted her head and looked around. To her right lay Norton, whom had plenty of slashes decorating his skin, along with the nasty bruises that dotted his body. He looked like he was having a nightmare from the pained expression he was wearing. Vera desperately wanted to reach out to him.
What happened?
Vera couldn’t exactly remember how she got into this state. She was kiting, then Norton saved her, then Emily...
The memories stopped there. She was now looking at a blank canvas, utterly confused.
‘What happened?’ She managed to croak out.
The doctor regarded her with an impassive look on her face, and Vera felt a twinge of annoyance stir in her.
‘You were kiting Mary when she was carrying detention ,’ she finally answered, sounding so very patronising, Vera wanted to rip her hair out. ‘And we all know her blade isn’t exactly the smoothest,’ Emily’s face was now scrunched up in what Vera discerns as concern. ‘How are you feeling?’
Vera stared at the doctor.
Quite frankly, Vera couldn’t care less if she had obtained some fatal damage from the matches. The host simply wouldn’t allow that. What did Dyer think the bracelets were for? Inside of them held a special medicine that somehow kept them alive despite all odds. All injures or whatnot disappeared in less than a day if treated right, so Vera doesn’t understand why Emily was so worried about everyone’s safety so much. Even towards the people she holds a distaste for. People like Vera.
Vera let out a soft sigh, sinking further into her mattress.
‘Let me guess: Mary sliced my stomach wide open and bits of glass got stuck in there,’
Emily raised her brows, and that confirmed Vera’s suspicions. ‘You know,’ The doctor started, turning away. ‘most people would have reacted to that quite differently,’
The perfumer didn’t know how to respond to that. Emily’s tone was clipped, cold, and it made Vera inexplicably frustrated, but she bit back her tongue. The Nair’s are gracious and regal, and petty remarks weren’t going to get her anywhere. She took in a deep breath.
Emily Dyer was someone that Vera couldn’t quite understand. They were alike in many ways, Vera supposes, but every time they interacted it was incredibly taxing. Emily dislikes how Vera seems to put herself in harm’s way, always hungry for some sort of twisted excitement, channelling all her emotions and feelings into a perilous game in order to distract her from reality. Vera thinks of Emily as a hypocrite, since she does the same, but instead of danger she turns to her syringes and medical work. Needless to say, the two girls don’t get along.
Yet, every time when Vera comes back from her matches barely escaping death by an inch, it was always Emily who tends to her wounds. It was always Emily who nurses everyone back to health, even if Vera thinks of it as unnecessary, and a tad bit annoying.
And Vera doesn’t understand why.
Emily came back with more supplies.
‘Sleep. You’ll feel a lot better tomorrow. Let me handle it,’ Emily said firmly, brown eyes piercing into Vera’s as she injected a bright purple liquid into her arm. Immediately, Vera felt drowsy. The sweet tendrils of sleep called out to her, pulling her down, down, down.
Vera didn’t want to close her eyes, not after she had just opened them. But she couldn’t do anything but watch as Emily adjusted her pillows. She felt a burning sensation in her throat as she struggled to speak, fighting against impending unconscious.
‘...why do you even bother?’ Vera managed to form out weakly, hating how her words slurred over each other, then sleep finally took hold of her body.
*************