Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your head throbs relentlessly, a chaotic symphony of pain echoing through your skull. It feels like you've been submerged underwater, struggling to make sense of the world for what seems like an eternity.

With a groan, you manage to prop yourself up. Faint music from the outside world seep into your ears, competing with the lingering taste of vomit scratching its way down your throat, it feels dryer than a desert and aches like you've screamed for the last couple of hours, it's a reminiscent of downing a bottle of needles.

Leaning against the grimy stall, you take in your blurry surroundings, your vision refusing to cooperate. The aftermath of a night filled with more drinks than advisable weighs heavily on you.

Maybe going overboard wasn't the best idea.

You breathe cautiously through your nose, trying to ignore the questionable hygiene of the bathroom that surrounds you. Over the next half-hour, as your brain gradually wakes up, you become slightly more aware of your surroundings.

Lifting your eyes from their fixed gaze on your lap, you realize you're enclosed in a shut stall, perched on a closed toilet seat. Your body slouches against it, bearing the full brunt of your weariness.

In a clearer state of mind, you might cringe at the unsanitary setting, but for now, you couldn't care less. Your head still pounds with the aftermath of a terrible hangover.

After considering spending the entire night in the toilet, you struggled to stand up, feeling your head pound from the motion alone.

With shaky hands, it took almost a minute to fumble with the stall door lock before finally escaping the stuffy confinement into the larger space of the public bathroom.

The muffled music from the main club outside became clearer this time. With a wobble to your step, you headed towards the sinks to wash your face and hands, wiping away the lingering bathroom bacteria from sitting in an unsanitary stall for who knows how long.

A cold splash of water on your tired face brought a slight awakening. The pounding in your head persisted but dulled a bit. Tilting your head up, you stared into the large murky bathroom mirror.

Your reflection revealed disheveled hair, water droplets trickling down from your face. Slightly bloodshot eyes hinted at a possible hangover or the consequence of sleeping like the dead in a less-than-ideal space. Not to mention, your under-eye bags were more visible than usual.

Frowning at your reflection, you wondered about the events that led to this less-than-glamorous moment.

You got invited by your officemates for a night out, even though you kept saying you're not much into drinking or partying. Despite your reluctance, you went along after almost all your colleagues insisted.

You figured it might be a nice change, a chance to get to know your co-workers better and have some fun at your first time in a loud club filled with sweaty bodies crammed together in the dark.

However, your hopes were dashed when, within just a few minutes of entering the noisy place, you found yourself all alone. Your peers disappeared into the chaotic crowd, leaving you in an unfamiliar setting surrounded by unsettling vibrations in your chest from the blaring music.

Being more of a loner, you usually keep to yourself while the others socialize like flies on decaying meat.

You've never felt more alone and out of your comfort zone, ironically, in a place bustling with people.

You shouldn't have come here.

Regretting all your life choices, you thought it would be a great idea to just drown your worries away with all the free booze available on the bar.

After about 10 drinks, you're completely out of it, with no control over your body, not remembering half of it. Being piss drunk for the first time in your life.

And now, here you are, staring at your bloodshot reflection in a murky bathroom mirror, stranded in an unknown club where your colleagues left you behind.

With self-deprecating thoughts swirling in your head, you let out a miserable sigh, running a hand down your face in an attempt to wipe away the bad memories of tonight.

Feeling slightly refreshed and more sober, you decided it was time to call it a night. 

The idea of finally driving home and never letting yourself be pressured into joining this type of stuff again sounded like a great plan.

Let socialization be damned.

After halfheartedly fixing yourself in the mirror, you straightened your slouched posture and headed for the bathroom exit. Cracking the door open just a smidge, the blaring party music slammed into your eardrums, reactivating your once-dulled headache.

With an irked groan, you trudged back into the noisy atmosphere. You found yourself on a metal platform, likely a second floor inside the club. The metal creaked beneath your feet as you walked.

Unable to recall how you ended up in the bathroom in the first place, you were completely clueless about your current location within the club.

In a soured mood, you passed a man smoking on the balcony before entering the only door adjacent to the bathroom you emerged from earlier.

Chapter Text

The door closed behind you, instantly muffling the blaring noise from outside—a sigh of relief almost escaped you.

But then, you realized the kind of room you just walked into.

Lifting your head from your feet, you noticed a lone dark green table, it reminds you of a small ping pong table. A buzzing light bulb hung from the ceiling, barely illuminating what seemed like a storage room. 

Oddly, there were some type of machines inside, wires of different sizes lining the walls and ceiling. Not your usual storage room stuff.

The room was mostly dark, and you couldn't make out the corners at first; your eyes were still adjusting.

On the other side of the table, pure darkness spread out. 

Squinting didn't help, so you cautiously approached the middle. Now that your eyes have adjusted, you noticed a chair in front of you, as if waiting for someone to sit.

You couldn't wrap your head around why there would be a storage room up here.

You really are lost.

Groaning at your embarrassing decision to explore unknown rooms, you turned around to leave the way you came in. Your hand reached for the doorknob.

But then, a sound—a chair skidding on the ground—stopped you in your tracks.

You froze momentarily, recalling your earlier check that confirmed you were alone in the room.

But, It seems like you weren't all alone after all.

Whipping your head around, you peered into the pure darkness on the other side of the room.

...

Before you stands something straight out of your worst nightmares.

A face—no, a head—emerges from the darkness, revealing something akin to a sleep paralysis demon, in the dim lighting.

The thing is covered in a sickly rust-colored skin, and its eyes are two pitch-black holes without visible pupils, more like empty sockets than eyes. 

You couldn't see much other than its head, it could have a body behind those pitch black darkness, but you couldn't be sure.

The most chilling detail is its wide grin, filled with uneven, shark-like teeth that sharply glint in the low light. It's enough to send shivers down your spine.

You faintly notice it bobbing up and down, almost like it's hovering in mid-air. Like a messed-up balloon nightmare that makes your heart race as you stand frozen, staring at the unsettling sight before you.

Wide-eyed, you stared, struggling to believe that what hovers before you is a real, living thing—not just a figment of your drunk, dazed imagination.

Your hand clung to the doorknob, the urge to turn it and escape growing stronger.

Without taking your eyes off the hovering(?) disfigured head, you slowly turned the knob, half-expecting the thing to leap at you any minute. The tension hangs in the air as you inch toward the door, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

You manage to crack open the door with a sharp click.

"Please sign the waiver."

A deep, rumbling voice suddenly halts you, making you double-take to confirm if it's coming from the creature.

However, it pays no attention to your retreating form, firmly pressed against the door.

Your eyes flicked down to its face, then to its... hands??

Two sets of hands emerge from the darkness—one firmly on the table, the other sliding a mysterious device attached to a paper. The bizarre sight leaves you frozen, torn between confusion and the lingering urge to escape.

"W-what?" You cringe at how strained your voice sounds, your throat still raw from puking earlier.

The creature simply gestures its hand toward the device, seemingly waiting for you.

Befuddled, confused, and a bit curious about the strange creature, you cautiously approach the table to figure out what it wants from you.

As you get closer, eyes darting between the creature and the device, you inspect the thing it's gesturing at.

Something akin to a keypad-like contraption is attached to the paper. It turns out to be indeed a waiver, and it seems the creature is waiting for you to sign your name.

The oddity of the situation leaves you grappling with a mix of emotions, unsure of how to proceed.

"I'm not signing that." You shook your head, wanting no part of this.

Whatever this thing wants, if it's about signing away your soul, then tonight is not that night.

All you want is to go home and pass out, dang it.

As if the light's playing tricks on your eyes, you swore its grin sharpened.

Then, a click makes you flinch, and you quickly whip your head around, hoping it wasn't what you feared.

Your heart races as you brace for the worst.

In slight panic, you rush back to the door and try jiggling it open. No luck; the door is firmly closed

You were sure you managed to open it earlier.

It's like someone locked it from the outside...

Breathing heavily, heart pounding, and blood rushing to your ears, you turn around to face the grinning creature.

With a bit of shuffling and a dull thud, it places a shotgun right in the middle of the table. The creature stays put, still staring straight at your soul.

"Sign or stay, your choice. No way out until then." The creature's voice suddenly cuts through the air, a cold command hanging between you and the unnerving situation.

You flinch at its voice, squinting at the waiver, then back at the creature. "..why?" you mutter, not expecting much of an answer.

"Rules are rules." The creature's grin widens slightly, revealing those sharp teeth in a way that makes your stomach churn.

"Now, sit."

The creature's command echoes in the dim room, gesturing towards the chair. You're left with little choice but to obey.

"Sign it."

It points to the waiver, the sharp grin on its face never fading.

Despite your pounding heart, you glower at it, not in the mood for its passive-aggressive tone. "What did you do to the door?"

The creature chuckles, the empty sound sending shivers down your spine, and not the good kind. "Just a little precaution. It's part of the process. Sign the waiver, and you might get out of here."

"I'm not signing up for anything I don't know," you retort, trying to assert some control over the situation, even if your voice trembles.

The creature's dark eyes narrow, merely nodding toward the paper. "Sign it."

You hesitate, eyeing the waiver suspiciously, considering your options. Something's not right, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

The strange events of the night unravel before you, and you can't shake the feeling that signing this waiver might lead to something far more sinister than just selling your soul away.

You glance around the dim room, realizing escape isn't happening anytime soon. "Fine," you huff, approaching the table and picking up the strange device, hastily tapping your name on the keypad. The device clicks as it enters your name on the paper.

The creature's grin stretches uncannily wide, its satisfaction evident. It retrieves the waiver, hands momentarily vanishing into the darkness.

The device on the right corner lights up, showing your name. And the other shows what could possibly be the creature's name.

Dealer.

But before you can react to the strange title, a small rectangular compartment tilts open on the table, revealing three bullets.

The air grows heavy, your lungs feel like they're suffocating, and you sense an unsettling anticipation.

The creature- the Dealer's hands reappear, holding the gun with chilling calmness.

"One live round, and two blanks."

It's clear now, the sinister truth hidden behind the vague commands. Your eyes widen as the realization sets in, your body stiff as a stone.

You can't believe this is happening right now.

The Dealer's grin widens, the passive-aggressive tone in its voice lingering.

"I insert them in an unknown order." It continues, its piercing gaze not leaving yours.

The click click click of the bullets getting loaded into the chamber echoes in the small enclosed space. 

The gravity of the situation sinks in, and you're left grappling with the unsettling reality of what you've just signed up for.

"W-what- what is this? What are you doing?" You exclaimed, a pathetic whimper escaping you instead of a commanding voice you intended. You wait for its reply in bated breath.

"A Gamble," it replies, grin still plastered on its face.

It settles the shotgun back down in the middle of the table, positioning it at a perfect 60-degree angle.

"A gamble? What do you mean- oh my god, what did I sign?" You look down into your shaking hands, staring at them in complete regret. Your stupidity in the current situation brought you here.

You blame your own hangover.

"You should've read the fine print." It retorts, grin slightly widening in turn.

Your eyes dart back up to glower at it. You can't help but be angry.

Be pissed.

At the situation you're currently in.

First, you get left behind in an unknown environment by your work colleagues, then you get piss-drunk, puking all of your guts out, and waking up in a completely different setting with a pounding headache.

Granted, some of it is all your fault and your doing.

But you just wanted to get home.

The unfairness of it all weighs on you, and you can't shake the frustration at how your night has taken an unexpected and dark turn.

The Dealer's grin remains, unfazed by your anger, as if relishing in the chaos it has caused. It sits patiently, watching your internal struggle unfold.

You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. "How do I get out of this?"

It chuckles, the unsettling sound reverberating in the dim room. "Win."

"Win what?" you snap, frustration bubbling within you.

"The gamble. Win, and you're free to go. Lose, and..." It trails off, leaving the ominous threat hanging in the air.

You clench your fists, realizing the gravity of the situation. The room feels smaller, the air thicker with tension. You glance at the shotgun, its ominous presence weighing on your nerves.

"Fine.. let's get this over with." You reluctantly settled your trembling hands into your lap, your eyes never leaving the creature.

It's already wide grin stretches further, and the dim room becomes the stage for a bizarre game of chance, with stakes much higher than you could have ever imagined.

You really should have just stayed home.