Chapter Text
Things have been a little too quiet at the killer’s regular hangout spot recently. Well, half of them don’t speak to begin with, but this is different. The mood is sullen, and as Frank described it best, “the vibes are terrible.”
It’s a cold night in Ormond, as per usual, but the air feels extra chilly thanks to the silence from the few killers gathered there.
Julie’s lying on top of Frank on the cushioned chair definitely meant for one person. Amanda, Joey, and Susie are all squeezed onto the couch, the two legion members intensely engaged in a game of tic-tac-toe using the floor as their board and their knives to draw their symbols, with Amanda as the referee for no foul play. Herman’s behind the counter of the bar; pouring himself a glass of whiskey in one hand, and holding open a book in the other. Danny stands with his back against the fireplace, arms crossed against his chest. He looks incredibly bored, and lets out a loud sigh to show it. No one responds.
“Okay, what’s with everyone?” Danny asks. “Did I miss something from the last time I was here?”
“We’re all on a losing streak, idiot,” Julie answers. She looks pissed off at Danny for ruining the uncomfortable silence. “What’s there to be chatty about?”
Frank rests his chin on the top of her head, nodding in agreement. Danny winces at the harsh truth, but attempts a positive attitude. It’s what he does best, after all.
“I mean, we all have bad trials doll. Doesn’t mean we gotta make it ruin our fun!” Danny tries, and looks to Amanda for support. She shakes her head at him.
“It’s impossible to have fun when those little bitches rub it in your face at the exit gate every. Single. Time,” Amanda mutters bitterly. “It feels like they’re getting better and better while we’re just stuck in the same spot.”
Julie nods in agreement. Susie slams her knife into the floor, startling nearly everyone.
“Not to mention how Rin and Sally keep bragging about the way their matches have been so easy and I have to sit there and lie and act like they’re not going terribly for me!” Susie proclaims, and sounds genuinely upset. Joey and Amanda pat her back as she lets it all out. “I hate lying to Sally,” she adds under her breath.
“Well, obviously. That’s to be expected when put in the same scenario time and time again with only one objective and a variant that can only change so many times,” Herman muses. He looks up from his book as he gets ready to mansplain everything. “Add the fact that they can speak to each other after every trial, passing secrets about us and our powers others might not have known. Also, tips and tricks for survival. Notice how a lot more are getting better at running? The speedy trackstar is probably training them.”
“We’re talking to each other right now, genius,” Frank snarks. "How come we aren't getting better then?" Herman merely laughs in response.
“Yes, but as our dear Danny pointed out, we don’t speak about trials. We’re prideful people, and losing hurts to talk about. Not to mention half the killers in this realm physically cannot speak, or choose a vow of silence like our lovely Michael,” Herman explains, then gestures to the opening at the ceiling of the resort. They all follow his hand and stare upwards in shock.
Michael is peering at them from above, but quickly moves away once spotted by everyone, as if he was never even there.
“Dude, how'd he get up there?” Joey asks.
“He’s so cool,” Danny whispers in awe. At Herman’s knowing look, Danny coughs. “Anyways! I get what you’re sayin’, Doc, honestly. It makes sense. Experiments, hypotheses, yadda yadda. But I have my own solution to this.”
“Which is?” Herman prompts, actually looking interested.
“Who’s ready to listen to the stupidest thing you’ll ever hear in your life?” Amanda mumbles, which makes Julie and Frank laugh.
“Why don’t we spy on the survivors' camp?” Danny asks. As everyone begins to give him incredulous looks and open their mouths to protest, he holds up his hands in defense. “Hear me out. Herman said they train and talk about us which is why they’re getting better, right? If we have someone scope out the place, we can see exactly how they’re organizing to beat us.”
Everyone’s quiet. Herman hums to himself, contemplating what Danny suggested. He tries to take a sip of his whiskey, but it ends up being very awkward and hard to do with the headgear keeping his mouth pried open. He ends up throwing the glass at the wall, smashing it to pieces and spilling the liquor everywhere.
“Hey!” Frank exclaims, sitting up. “We have to clean that up, y’know!”
“That’s actually a really good idea,” Herman says, ignoring Frank’s outburst. “If someone could sneak to the campsite and stay hidden long enough to gather intel, we may actually learn a lot… I’d love to do it myself, but alas, my presence is quite detectable.” Herman gestures to the electric static constantly surrounding his body.
“Danny should do it,” Julie says. “He’s the one who brought it up.” The others nod in agreement.
“Whoa, back it up! Why do I have to be the sacrificial lamb?” Danny asks.
“You’re sneaky,” Susie says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
“Your whole schtick is not being caught, right?” Joey shrugs. “Makes sense to me why you'd be the perfect choice.”
“Amanda does the same shit!” Danny gestures to her. “Why can't she be the one to creep around and write notes for Herman?”
“I don’t wanna do it, it sounds like a waste of my time,” Amanda answers bluntly. “Plus, it’s your idea Danny. You do it.”
“I think he’s too pussy,” Frank jeers. Julie giggles, and Danny immediately turns to face them with a scoff.
“I am not!” The whining tone does not help his case one bit.
“Then go do it. Pussy,” Frank taunts.
Danny scowls from his crouched position in the bushes. There are a few leaves on the top of his head, and his knees are caked with dirt.
“This blows,” Danny mutters to himself. He looks at the notebook and pen Herman supplied him with and sighs, then opens up to the first page with the pen ready in hand.
He looks up at the survivor campsite. He’s honestly surprised the Entity isn’t trying to drag his ass back to a killer realm, given the fact that the fire doesn’t really hurt his eyes as much as he thought it would. If he wanted to, Danny could totally rock their shit right now. He won’t, of course, not because he’s a good guy or anything but he has to prove a point that he’s not a pussy. He’s totally not afraid of getting jumped by the survivors or anything, this is purely about pride.
There’s nothing particularly unusual going on. Danny notices a few tents set up–which kind of annoys him because they don’t get tents but whatever–and some of the survivors are sitting on logs placed precariously by the fire.
Someone catches his eye. The country chick with the tattoos–Kate, that’s her name. She’s sitting in the center of everything, holding a guitar. All the survivors around her appear to be really happy, which just makes Danny confused. What part about eternal damnation is bringing them cheer?
“What do y’all wanna hear next?” Kate asks.
“Anything by Dolly!” Meg says, clasping her hands together. “Please, please!”
Who the hell is Dolly? Danny wonders. It feels like he’s dropped into an entirely different universe, to be quite honest. Happy survivors, tents, this just looks like a simple camping trip! If he catches a single one of them enjoying a s'more, he's gonna go ballistic.
Kate laughs at her enthusiasm and nods. “Alrighty then. Any preference?”
“It has to be Jolene, right?” David asks. Dwight gives him a look with a knowing smirk, and David scoffs. “Come on mate. Everyone loves a little bit of Dolly, innit? Shut up.”
The group share a laugh and as Kate strums her guitar, and everyone around her falls into a comfortable silence as they hang off her every word.
Danny even finds himself entranced by her voice, unable to form any coherent thoughts to scribble down for Herman. The thought of the crazed Doctor wakes him momentarily, and he shakes his head to snap out of it, then grips the pen in his hand.
“Focus,” he grumbles, even though he really wants to do nothing more than just sit there and listen. Danny messily writes a few things down, and can already tell Herman’s gonna bitch at him for his chicken scratch handwriting. Oh well.
- Survivors (uh, the twink, buff British guy, super speedy girl, and yeehaw lady) are singing some shit which makes them all happy. Why don’t we ever do stuff like this? Can’t that new guy sing? It just feels like we don’t spend time with each other and it could help our moods. Maybe the reason we’re doing so bad is because we don’t feel like a team. IDK. Just a thought.
Danny sets the pen down momentarily and looks around. He catches that one old guy and the biker chick talking to each other, and moves a little closer to their section of the campsite in order to hear better.
“C’mon Bill, please! Teach me how you do it!” Yui pleads, putting on her best puppy dog look. Bill gives her a look, but it’s clear he’s seconds from breaking.
Finally, some valuable info, Danny thinks. Bill’s that war veteran guy! He’s gotta be the one teaching everyone tricks, right? If it’s not the wannabe tough Brit, it’s him for sure.
“Fine. Listen here and listen good, I’m only doin’ this once,” Bill says gruffly. Yui nods rapidly, grinning.
Even Danny finds himself leaning forward in the bush to get a better look at whatever military tactic this old geezer’s about to unleash.
Bill makes sure Yui’s paying attention, then lights a cigarette. He places it between his lips tightly, then opens his mouth. To Danny’s shock, it’s actually sticking to Bill’s lower lip. He pushes his bottom teeth forward and the cigarette slowly rises to a standing position, then falls into his mouth. Danny gasps, but thankfully no one hears. Bill closes his mouth and slowly exhales smoke through his nose.
“That is SO cool!” Yui praises, and Bill gives her a small smile. He adjusts his hat with a modest shrug.
“Just somethin’ I learned in ‘Nam,” he answers.
Danny rapidly starts writing in the notebook.
- Old guy that coughs a lot just did the most EPIC thing I’ve ever seen in my life!!! He’s
There’s heavy breathing from behind him, and Danny freezes. He slowly turns around though everything in his body is screaming at him to do anything but that, and he’s ashamed to admit that he screams when he sees Michael looking down at him.
The music at the survivor campsite abruptly stops, and everyone seems on guard. Bill and David stand up and guard their companions, then slowly check the dense forest surrounding them.
“What was that?” Dwight asks nervously, fingers twitching at his side as if to cling to someone.
“Can’t be anything good,” Bill mutters in response.
Michael quickly covers Danny’s mouth and gives him a hard glare through the mask. Danny understands that Michael is someone that not even the Entity can place under control, so he quickly obeys the unspoken command and shuts up immediately.
Once it’s clear he’s done screaming, and the survivors have tensely gone back to their previous activities having spotted nothing, Michael uncovers his mouth. Danny takes a heaving breath.
“What’re you doing here?” Danny asks. Of course, he gets no response. How original.
Michael grabs the notebook out of his hands and reads what’s been written, then glances towards the campsite. He looks back at Danny, and tilts his head.
“I’m taking notes for Doc. Some of us have been complaining that the survivors are too slippery nowadays, and thought they had like… Super secret training going on around here,” Danny explains. Michael holds up his large kitchen knife and gestures to the survivors, and Danny grabs his wrist and squeezes tightly. “Nope, can’t let you do that big guy. Sorry.”
Michael lowers his hand, and Danny quickly lets go. They look at each other for a moment, and then all hell breaks loose.
“AHA! I SEE YOU, YOU CREEP!” Laurie screams, pointing at Michael who, admittedly, wasn’t even trying to hide his presence. “You think you can just kill Lynda and Annie and get away with it, huh? Not on my watch!” She grabs a bottle of beer out of Jeff’s hands and smashes it against the log, now brandishing her deadly weapon in front of her.
“This is just peachy,” Danny drawls sarcastically. He makes a break for it before things get even more out of hand, then checks behind him to see how Michael’s holding up. He gawks at the fact that Michael’s just casually walking as if he’s out for a stroll, completely ignoring Laurie yelling profanities and threats at his back. Danny can’t help himself–he pauses to admire Michael. “God, he’s just so cool.”
Herman stares at the practically blank notebook, then up at Danny, who’s giving him a wide grin.
“Are you trying to make me mad?” Herman asks genuinely, and Danny quickly shakes his head.
“Nah, Doc, I promise! I got a little sidetracked on the mission, but I wrote down genuine notes,” Danny says, and slaps the page to really send his point home.
“Ignoring the ridiculous nicknames you gave the survivors, you wrote about how we don’t interact as much as they do and how that makes you upset which is a clear sign of your inability to be alone for too long without invasive thoughts entering your mind–” Herman starts, but abruptly cuts himself off with a chuckle. “Apologies, I’m getting ahead of myself. Where was I?”
“You were diagnosing me,” Danny grumbled. "Again."
“Ah, yes. Besides writing about their silly little singing, you also said how William apparently does a very “epic thing” and you didn’t even finish your sentence. I’m assuming this is when Michael showed up?” Herman asks.
Danny nods. “Yeah, guilty. But I swear to you, that was the coolest shit I’ve seen in my life. That old guy is a legend.”
“I’m sure,” Herman lies. “Well, we can write this off as a complete and utter failure, but at least we can’t say we didn’t try.”
There’s an awkward silence. Danny taps his fingers together and looks up at Herman sheepishly. “So about that group singalong idea–”
“No.”