Work Text:
Ranked matches are what you need to try for. Each victory brings not only a rush of adrenaline in the blood, exciting and hilarious, almost to the point of unconsciousness, but also a small cash prize. According to Walden, today was the most unpleasant day: not only did he not manage to get into the ranks, but they paid so little for simple matches that you couldn't buy a new brush, but also the card he managed to get on was his most hated. The Crayburgs racetrack? The devil decided to include this place in the list of venues for daily games. Also, the team is not pleasant - a nasty mercenary munching a bun before the start of the match, a strange young man with a smelly bird and a stupidly smiling silent postman. An abomination. Not that, in the artist's opinion, anyone on the estate was distinguished by beauty besides himself, but some were especially disgusting. It would be necessary to try not to get caught by the hunter, so that their dirty little hands would not touch such a great person as Walden.
Finally, the countdown had passed, and it was time to start. The terrible landscape, the bright light of the sun, and the not particularly pleasant smell in the air - horses, hay, is also reinforced by all the dust rising into the air from one simple step. The rattling of a typewriter can be heard a mile away from such a vast area, and here's a setback: as soon as the artist touches the buttons with his fingertips, his heart begins to beat clearly. The hunter was heading in his direction.
"damn you," he swore under his breath, clutching the saved canvas in his hand, and then turning around: After all, he needed to remember the face of the creature that had distracted him from the beginning of the decode and at once ruined all plans to avoid contact with the others.
The bloody queen strolled closer and closer, having long ago seen in Edgar a good target for pursuit, which is why she hummed softly as she walked. That's the beginning of the game, you had to run from this pompous headless lady. Run, faster, behind the pallet, so that you can draw a picture more calmly, distract the young lady from yourself, maybe you can even switch her attention to someone else? "A hunter is nearby!" the artist informs on the run, distracted by a small gadget with quick messages, and immediately catching a blow with a mirror fragment on the head.
Walden screams again, running further behind the stands, hoping to confuse, deceive the huntress, running in a roundabout way.
One thing he didn't take into account was that the map was the very place that belonged to this girl. The stories differed, but as far as he heard from the dialogue of the other two survivors, it really was so, but he did not attach importance, considering it a stupid gossip. Well, directly, few people communicated with the hunters, because of their ill-will during the matches. And now - a dead end ahead. The painting did not help in any way, because the huntress did not even look at the canvas, bypassing it and coming closer, tapping on the dusty path with her heels. Surprisingly, another blow did not follow to finish off the poor artist, instead, Mary only forced him to press his back against the wall, frowning. A faint grin flashes across the pale, cadaverous face.
- I never thought that the survivors have such an appetizing smell!
The angry grimace is replaced by disgust mixed with misunderstanding, with which Edgar almost climbs the wall in an attempt to escape from the clutches of the huntress, but she quickly puts her hands on the shoulders of the survivor, squeezing them hard enough to make the artist hiss from an unpleasant sensation. Opening her plump lips slightly at first, and then wider and wider, the thought flashed through Walden's mind that his head would fit inside quite well.. Oh, it would be better if he didn't think about it, because fears often become real.. Mary bent down, pulling Edgar so close to her that in addition to the warm, noisy breathing, he felt the touch of snow-white strands of hair on his wrinkled face, forcing him to close his eyes in front of the inevitable. The queen did everything quite deftly, almost immediately swallowing the artist up to his shoulders.
"We need to resist! Her head is barely sewn on. I'll tear it off, and I'll be free!" thought Edgar to himself, fidgeting with his whole body, dangling his legs from the outside, however, the queen hurried to straighten up, placing her hands on the belt of the poor survivor, lifting him upside down, simultaneously taking a few quick sips. The body of the crawling artist was hiding more and more in the mouth of the huntress, soaking her clothes with sticky saliva, forcing her to think only about what an abomination it was! That's all: the waiting stomach happily accepts food and hugs the skin with soft pulsating walls, making a soft rumbling sound. There is no way out. A quick message that it was not worth saving the artist was immediately delivered to the others, also reinforcing curiosity with the caption: "Edgar Walden was caught." The sudden answer did not take long to wait - a dog lover, Victor, ran to help, having already overcome halfway. Perhaps the young postman will be able to defeat the huntress by setting a mutt on her? It's just hilarious. How? She is much bigger, stronger, and also with a full belly, in which a disgruntled Walden was floundering, trying to make Mary sick with his resistance. Victor slowed his pace, coming closer to the stands, listening to the strange noise he had not heard before. The sand rustles loudly underfoot, and then, looking around, a small dog steps, sniffing the ground, then holding its nose to the wind. Grabbing the corner of the arch under the stands with his hands, Granz looked behind them, however, he did not see poor Edgar either in the chair or somewhere nearby. His heart was pounding, because it seemed that the hunter was nearby, but he did not see at all - where exactly? The sound did not stop, as if coming from everywhere, forcing Victor to anxiously swallow a lump in his throat, feeling a march of goosebumps down along his spine, but the guy still stepped forward, albeit with great caution. Nothing, or rather, no one. It's very strange. Maybe Edgar was cornered in the stands? I had to check it out as soon as possible! But that was not the case. The postman was grabbed by the sides from behind with cold hands, lifting him upside down, right above the gaping mouth of the bloody queen. Now it became clear what kind of strange sound it was, coming from everywhere - Victor drew attention to the huntress's protruding belly, rumbling and constantly twitching, accompanied by an unintelligible mooing from somewhere inside. It seems that the poor blond guy himself will make sure who was inside, although there was not much need to guess.. Wick lets out a frightened howl, and so, the postman's hat falls to the ground, at the feet of the huntress, when she, lowering the poor man lower and lower, forcing him to bury his nose right into her throat, began to swallow another victim, like a huge voracious snake. Strangely enough, there was no resistance from the shocked Granz, who only managed to shed a little tears of horror, which literally squeezed him from all sides, inside Mary's body. The queen's dress has completely split along several seams, after such a heavy snack.
- how satisfying! It will need to be repeated!, - she said complacently, slapping her stomach with her palm, hiccupping immediately, sitting down on the rocket chair.
Edgar crosses his arms over his chest, making as displeased a face as possible, except that there was too little space, and the light did not penetrate at all so that Victor could see his face better.
- I told you not to save.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think...," Grantz doesn't have time to finish, as the artist clucks in displeasure, pushing him away from himself with the sole of his shoe.
A sudden quick message from the mercenary: "Don't worry, I'm running!" makes Victor sniff once again, and Edgar sends another: "Don't save!"..