Chapter Text
Our story... does not begin in a place called Kemonotown. It should, it really should, and I am painfully aware of this, but it does not. Instead, it begins in an unremarkable suburb of Vancouver- inside a high school, specifically. Why Vancouver? Don't ask me.
Hang on, actually, do they still call high schools "high schools" in Canada? I don't know, should I look it up before I post this? Whatever, this is already an alternate timeline by virtue of the existence of talking bipedal animals, I can just claim that's the reasoning if anyone tries to go "aha, gotcha!" in the comments.
Where was I? Oh, oh, right! Vancouver suburbs, high school. Well, it's not where I was, personally, it's where our protagonist w... okay, you know what? I'm just gonna shut up. Shutting up now.
Anyway. Said high school is very full of murder and stuff. Blood everywhere. Lots of bodies, too. Probably around a thousand of them? So very sad. Such a sad, sad place. And it is towards the center of this high school where we find our protagonist- one Olive Higgins.
It has been around eight hours since everyone in the school got slaughtered; Olive spent most of that time curled up in the fetal position inside a closet trying to stop their terrified sobbing from becoming audible. (They're a bit dehydrated now.) However, at the moment, Olive is... not cowering in a closet. Instead, they are drawing satanic sigils on the floor with a broken piece of chalk. Well, that's just lovely.
Poor Olive is not having a good time for obvious reasons. It shows, too- their dark violet eyes are wide with terror and keep flickering up at the slightest of sounds from outside (even if it's just the casual drip of blood), their knuckles are white around the cracked chalk in their paws, and sweat streaks their pale red fur and slashes down in dark gouges from the armpits of their powder-blue sweater vest. Their legs are curled uncomfortably under them as they slowly draw a large circle around themself, pale yellow chalk dust embedding itself in the matted fibers of the carpet beneath them.
When you think of the name Olive Higgins, words that likely come to mind include "sweet," "awkward," "loving," and "pure." All of these apply to the iteration of Olive Higgins who is currently preparing a highly dubious ritual on the classroom floor, but there is one aspect where they differ from what you might expect of them.
This Olive's loneliness and passive suicidality are differently structured. They still appear much the same from the outside, of course, but functionally speaking they culminate in a streak of brutally self-sacrificial pragmatism which emerges in times of great stress and fear. And it is this pragmatism which has enabled Olive to clearly envision the line from Point A to Point B and the most efficient way to see it through, no matter the cost to themself.
(It isn't exactly mentally healthy. But this isn't a good environment for fostering mental wellness, now, is it?)
Olive finishes tracing the outline of the circle and carefully returns the chalk to where they found it, just in case somebody else needs it in the future. They've already scrutinized the sigils they painstakingly drew, compared them to the screenshots on their phone (good thing they downloaded those images a few weeks ago- the barrier around the school cut off internet access), and now they mentally read off the text of the ritual from their phone one final time before returning it to their pocket.
(Most other students attempt this ritual to ace tests or the like, but as far as Olive knows, for some reason it never works for them. Olive hopes it works here and now.)
They have the incantation memorized, of course. (After all, they've seriously considered carrying out this ritual before, albeit more out of sheer loneliness than desperate pragmatism in the face of death- there's a reason they downloaded those screenshots.) But it never hurts to check. Olive's only going to have one shot at this, after all- they know full well from their observations over the past eight hours that any noise louder than a quiet speaking tone will be enough to bring the demons outside their way, so they just have to hope they're quick enough to finish the ritual before they get here.
Olive stands in the center of the chalk circle. They face south, spread their arms, tilt their face to the ceiling, and begin to chant.
"OTTNA WYLLEAR T'NODIT UBEZIGOL OPAD'I! SDRAWK CABTU BTAHT GNIGDEL WON KCAYLT BUSTSUJM'I OSNOITAT NACNI EHTRO FODOTTAHW WON KT'N DIDYLTSENO HIHAEY!"
The moment the first syllable rises up their throat, they can already smell the sharp reek of ozone from outside as the demons begin closing in. Their heart thrumming in their ears, half fear and half sickly anticipation, Olive quickens their chant.
"GNIHTEMO SRODIPU TSER'YEHT WON KT'N ODIHU- TUOS IH TDERU GIFESREVINU-NI YDOBONYHWG NIREDNOWER'U OYFI OSLA!"
Long yellowed claws puncture the webbed glass window set in the door. Gossamer wire binds itself around Olive's limbs as they scream the last words of the chant, and-
"SIHTK NIHTREV OT'NOD!"
-they are whole.
Far, far away from the nameless high school Olive attends, you open the computer before you, crack your knuckles, and squint at the screen with a nod.
"Alright, let's give this a shot."
The demons outside burst through the door and render it kindling upon the ground, their leering yellow eyes nearly physically burning into Olive, and despite themself they scream in fear. No, I did the ritual properly, right?! I bound this puppet master-god-thing to me, it'll guide everything I do and help me save everyone, it-
That's about as far as their thoughts get before the first of the demons reaches them and slices half of their head away with a wickedly sharp claw.
"Shit!" You slap your desk in annoyance. "Why the hell are there quick-time events right out the gate?!"
Olive abruptly returns to life with a confused tearful gasp. For a moment, they have no idea what just happened, but then they see that the door is intact again... at least, until the same long claws pierce through the door's window once more and the acrid reek of ozone grows stronger.
And suddenly, Olive understands what they just did, what the ritual they found online truly did, why it never seemed to work for anyone else who'd used it that they'd heard of.
They didn't bind themself to an all-knowing benevolent puppeteer. They just bound themself to something that will rewind the universe to the point of the ritual's end every time Olive is killed until the two of them figure out a combination of actions and events where Olive doesn't die.
Talk about false advertising, am I right?
Olive starts to open their mouth to swear. Stuttered and awkward as it would be, the demons clearly decide that Olive can't be allowed to taint the readers' image of their purity, because the first to reach them tears their head right off their shoulders. Most of their spine comes with it.
Oh, no, I am going to be even more traumatized by this, Olive thinks limply, and then time rewinds and their head's connected to their shoulders again.
(Not for long, though.)
It takes five brutal rewinds before Olive stagger-runs from their bloodied classroom, three screeching demons in hot pursuit, one paw pressed to a bleeding nick in their cheek. It's the only wound they sustained this time, but after dying seven times in less than a minute, they're understandably clutching at it like they'll bleed out in seconds.
"You know," Olive manages, aiming the words at their new puppeteer as they flee, "wh-when I gave up some of my free will in exchange for help surviving, I kind of expected you would be better at this? No offense," they add hastily.
In a gesture of total spite, Olive's puppeteer immediately makes them veer to the right and leap from the top of the stairwell there. They are on the third floor. They land head-first. Take a wild guess what happens next, genius.
Six more rewinds later, Olive finally loses the demons somewhere in the labyrinthine hallways of their still-nameless high school. They still suffered the same nick on their cheek, but they count themself lucky that's all they got away with, especially considering that the thing that somewhat controls their body has demonstrated that they will kill Olive immediately if their competence is questioned.
The thin wires that have pulled Olive back and forth for the past minute or twenty minutes, depending on whether we're talking objective or subjective time, lessen their grip as the danger falls away, and Olive seizes the chance to dart to the nurse's office, which is thankfully located nearby. Not that they require serious medical attention (at least, not in this loop), but they're still a little paranoid about the cut on their cheek and they'd like to put a bandage on it to make sure it doesn't get infected or something.
Having plastered the first bandage they found onto their cheek (it turned out to be way too big, but hey, people with minor injuries never get tragically fawned over in movies and stuff), Olive leans back against the cool plaster wall and tries to slow their breathing. That goes pretty well at first until precisely what it felt like to have razor-sharp claws and teeth tear into their neck and stomach and limbs flashes through their mind again and they spend the next few minutes hyperventilating. Their puppeteer guides them over to a cabinet and finds them a paper bag to breathe into somewhere in there, though, so at least they've got that going for them.
Once Olive calms themself down, they lower their voice to a barely-audible whisper and address the thing they bound to themself. I'm going to call them a time demon, they decide on a whim. "We d-do agree on wanting to save everyone who's st-still alive in this school, right?" they ask.
The time demon doesn't answer verbally. Maybe they aren't capable of talking to Olive. But Olive does feel as if the sense of terrified pressure inside of them is letting up a little, so they choose to interpret that as a yes and not, like, the placebo effect or something.
Olive gets a clearer, albeit still indirect, answer shortly thereafter when they happen upon the first other survivor. They're not quite sure if it was their own free will or the time demon that drove them to pick up the water bottle lying on the floor next to the bloodstained bleachers, but when a tall gray husky comes stumbling out from the locker room, hockey stick in paw and terrified profanity on their tongue as they desperately try to force back one of the demons, it's Olive and only Olive that swallows their fear, advances, and throws the bottle at it, watches as water splashes across its semi-corporeal form, watches it dissolve into nothingness.
Sparky- that's the husky's name- is enthused to meet another survivor after eight-ish hours running in circles trying to find a way to escape the school, and he's even more enthused to learn that there's a way to fight back. Olive is equally pleased by Sparky's immediate decision that they'll go figure this out together, and it's all they can do to stop themself from letting out an ecstatic squeal at the prospect of finally having a friend, even if it's just for today.
(Olive almost thanks the time demon out loud- just that, being someone's friend now, makes all their suffering worth it- but they stop themself before the words leave their mouth. Involvement with the occult is generally frowned upon regardless of how desperate the circumstances are, and while Sparky's certainly nice, they might also see it the way nearly everyone else would- that is, that the only thing Olive did is pick which monstrous thing gets to consume them.)
The time demon guides Olive and Sparky to the second floor bathroom by the north stairwell next. (Much to Olive's relief, they don't die en route a single time.) The happy little corgi who greets them is just as enthusiastic as Sparky to find other survivors, though she does seem a little bummed that she didn't get to try suicide by chocolate. Olive doesn't think that's healthy, but they did kind of sell their soul to an entity beyond their comprehension in a self-sacrificial fit of what they now realize was probably passive suicidality, so they don't really get to judge.
"So do we have any plans for dealing with this at all?" the corgi inquires as the three leave the bathroom- Brownie, she'd said her name was Brownie. "Or are we just gonna run in circles finding water and flinging it at these things? Wait, is that even something we can do?" she asks after a moment of consideration. "Is the water still running?"
"I tried the taps in the bathroom!" Olive reminds her, making sure to keep their voice low. "A-and they were still working."
"Right, so the barrier around the school didn't cut off the plumbing," Sparky nods, idly flicking a finger in a little circle. "So I guess it's entirely possible that we could load up on water and go hunt the demons down if we're out of other options? We'd need to split them up beforehand, though."
"...yeah, but that feels like kind of an exhausting and self-defeating crusade, y'know?"
"So, just like the real-life Crusades?" suggests Sparky.
"Aaayyyy."
"Aaaaaaayyyyyyyy."
Olive never learned about the Crusades in history class. "W-well, do either of you have any other ideas?" they ask hesitantly, still not quite used to having to interact with more than one person at a time.
"Nah," Brownie shrugs, "not unless either of you changed your minds on the chocolate thing."
"That's a hard no," Sparky says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Heh, you know what else is hard?"
Sparky glares disapprovingly. "Brownie."
"What? I was just gonna say 'existence.'"
"Something in your expression makes me doubt that."
"Oh, so you're saying existence is easy, then, is that what you're saying? Are you saying that existing is easy despite all the evidence today has presented to the contrary?"
"...okay, you're creating a false binary and putting words in my mouth, so that's two logical fallacies in as many sentences."
"I don't know what half of those phrases mean, and I will repeatedly and annoyingly resist any attempts to explain them to me."
Sparky and Brownie continue quietly bickering (with the occasional interjection from Olive) for what's probably several minutes before Sparky suddenly comes to a halt and snaps their fingers. "Oh, I just got an idea!"
The hope on his face is genuinely pretty cute, but Olive's not saying that out loud, not when they still barely know him. "What is it?"
"There's several water pipes near the basement," Sparky says confidently. "The school's built on a slope, right? So if we can break those we should be able to flood most of the first floor, and if the barrier around the school doesn't keep the water inside and make sure the second and third floors flood as well, we can chase down the few surviving demons and kill them ourselves!"
"Ick, and saddle everyone else's families with a bunch of waterlogged corpses in the process?" Brownie makes a mock gagging sound. "Then again, they're dead and we're not," she adds, reconsidering, "so our needs matter more than theirs. Not like they were gonna be able to do open-casket funerals anyway," she shrugs.
"I'm totally ready to die if it makes all their families happier! I-I'm kidding," Olive adds hastily at the half-withering, half-concerned look Sparky gives them, "I'm kidding!"