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Elf was, currently, in rather dire straits.
It wasn’t an unusual situation, but that never made it one that he’d rather be in. The Nightmare was hot on his ass, and had been for a few minutes now. Dwight wasn’t sure how much time exactly had passed, because it was always hard to tell under the blood-pumping adrenaline rush of a chase, but he knew that his teammates were well on his way to escaping. There were four generators complete, and two people weren’t on death hook so far. Two of them were likely to get out—three, if Dwight could play his cards right here.
Unfortunately, he was starting to run out of cards to play. He had been for a while now. Deep gashes, angry and soaking his side with blood and darkening the itchy red sweater, had been bleeding for a while now. In a trial, one could bleed forever as long as they were standing, but he was still starting to feel a little faint. A little dizzy. There was a hook wound in his shoulder, too. Nasty and wide, because he had two in him so far.
Number three was game.
Forced to abandon the loop he’d been running the Nightmare around so far, Elf crossed his fingers and ran for the next, listening. There was a generator nestled within the walls of the structure, an unlit one, and he didn’t think there was anyone working on this one—he was pretty sure the team was at the far one, chewing their way through it—but he didn’t want to be wrong.
By the time he’d gotten close enough to hear the generator’s growl, it was too late to divert the chase somewhere else. He just had to hope that whoever had been working here had the good sense to slip away or run while the killer’s threatening aura closed in.
If they could even hear it. It was the Nightmare, after all.
Claws swiped at the air just behind Dwight’s back as he vaulted a window. He faked a left turn, then went right, and then left again—only to bump into another survivor that was rounding the corner in the same moment he happened to be. Worst of all, it was potentially the most awful survivor he could have run into out of all three. For one, this survivor was also on death hook, evidenced by the twice-bandaged wound just beneath his collarbone.
For two, it was Jake. A specific Jake. One that didn’t like him, never had, and never would. One that had fucked him over just to do it, and one he’d done it back to because it had been well-deserved. And now that Dwight had brought the killer to him, he had no false pretense that Jake was not going to use this as some excuse to leave him for dead or something later. He sighed inwardly at the thought, making eye contact with Jake, briefly.
Jake was the first to turn and run, at least, to get away from the structure and abandon the generator inside. Dwight didn’t get to see where the man had went, and didn’t particularly care, because he was still being chased. He ran, dodged a hit, and kept going, making another loop around the structure before he misjudged the Nightmare’s decision making just enough that the killer managed to catch up. A good blow to his shoulder, claws sinking in and tearing flesh and cloth unnervingly easily, and Dwight tripped, holding his shoulder and hissing quietly in pain. This was it. He was done, but—
The alarm blared. The gates were powered. They’d be open soon enough. Good. That was enough, that was ok with him. A rough breath was dragged from him as the Nightmare laughed and picked him up, hoisting him onto his shoulder. Dwight struggled and kicked at the killer, but his wriggling was as performative as it was desperate. He didn’t expect to be getting out of this one. Not, at least, until he happened to open his eyes and see Jake, slinking around in his peripherals before he was blocked by the Nightmare’s body from Dwight’s view.
Dwight assumed he was trying to stay hidden, to start to a gate quickly but without being seen. He didn’t expect to hear the tell-tale clang! of a hook being dismantled and falling to the floor. He didn’t expect to be dropped gracelessly to the floor as the Nightmare let out a frustrated growl, pursuing the more presently annoying prey. The killer got a good hit in, and looked over his shoulder back at Dwight, like he was thinking about coming back for the survivor to hook him anyway. But in the end, he went after Jake, and the two of them disappeared off into the distance.
The ringing in Dwight’s ears went quiet as he struggled to pick himself up off the ground. He managed his upper body without collapsing on himself, then to his knees, then starting to sit up right as Zarina arrived at his side.
“We’ve got the door nearby all ready to go,” she said quietly as she helped Dwight up. He nodded.
An aura lit up in the distance. It was accompanied by no scream, only silence and an odd feeling in the air of the trial and the knowledge of someone has been incapacitated, and Elf didn’t have to think twice to know who that was.
“We should be able to make it before…” Zarina said, trailing off.
“Yeah,” Dwight said as the aura disappeared. His eyes remained on the area it had gone dark in for a lingering moment, even as he started to follow Zarina towards the door. There was a hook and a sting in the air, followed by the shockwave of energy and the bell that tolled death, and Dwight opened the door.
The three that made it out of the trial made it to the campfire first. Dwight lingered at the campfire, waiting for their fourth to arrive. Elf wasn’t sure he even would. Sometimes this Jake didn’t arrive at this campfire, especially after he died. But he was more likely to appear here than anywhere else, so Elf waited for a while.
And the waiting paid off—lo and behold, after several minutes had passed, Jake crept into the clearing, unnoticed except by those who happened to be paying attention to the treeline.
Dwight and Jake made eye contact. Jake stopped in his tracks, staring at him for a few seconds with an unreadable expression. Dwight couldn’t quite tell if it felt more like a deer in headlights or just a milder version of Jake’s usual death stare, but after several seconds of holding this eye contact, Jake broke it to turn tail and head for the trees.
Dwight’s brows furrowed and his lip pulled back into a frown. What the hell was he running for? Dwight didn’t have anything to be mad or berate him about. He stood up with a parting mutter to the survivor beside him on the log, then stepped after it and gave brief chase. He really didn’t even know why he was doing this. It was unusual behavior, sure, but obviously not behavior Jake wanted to answer for. He shouldn’t care at all. But he was curious, and curiosity was enough to drive him along to follow.
Luckily, Jake had not managed to go far by the time Dwight caught up with him. He seemed to realize that Dwight had no intention of letting him run off so easily, and finally stopped, turning towards his slightly-distant pursuant and leered back at him. “What the hell do you want?” Jake growled finally.
“I don’t want anything,” Dwight said, panting softly. Physical exertion never got easier in the realms. The one thing he could say damn the resets for, really. “Just to know what was going on that last trial.”
“Nothing was going on,” Jake said indignantly.
“You got killed.”
“I die all the time. Nothing special.”
“You got killed, saboing for me. You don’t do that.”
“Well maybe I won’t anymore,” Jake said as if it was ever something he’d gotten in the habit of doing in the first place.
Dwight didn’t think he’d ever see Jake die for him before. Take a hit or something, maybe once or twice, but this was different. Much different. “What,” Elf said, stepping closer, “you just suddenly remember you have a conscience, or what?”
Jake’s glare was intensifying. He clearly didn’t appreciate the questioning. His eyes did avert for a minute, glancing off to death-glare at the undergrowth instead of Dwight for a minute. “Look, Jingles,” he said finally, after exhaling a strained, long-suffering sigh. “There wasn’t anything special about last trial. Stop worryin’ about it and definitely stop askin’ me about it. I just saw an opportunity and I took it. Nothin’ special.”
Dwight stared at him for a long moment. Thinking. His brow furrowed a bit deeper before he shook his head and shrugged. “…Okay,” he relented. He’d get what he could get and Jake was famous for how stubborn and spikey he could be, especially when it came to matters like ‘his feelings towards other people’ or something crazy like that. “Thanks, then. For saving me—I made it out.”
Jake looked up again. Stared at him for a long few seconds like he was puzzling something out, and then he shook his head. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, turning on a heel.
“You’re supposed to say you’re welcome,” Dwight said, raising his voice a little as Jake started to walk away. He didn’t follow this time.
“Shut up!” Jake snapped back without turning around or stopping. “You’re unwelcome. Fuck off.”
“Gladly,” Elf said, looking just a little smug. “You’re welcome!”