Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His existence was pain. Being there, tortured and put through trials everyday without having anyone to fully trust was awful. He could feel the ground under him disappearing, shadow-like figures in the corners of his eyes, whispers no one seemed to notice. 

Was he going insane? No he couldn't. It was just his imagination, just tiredness, afterall he wrote about everything happening, every single thing standing out of the everyday monotony

was contained in a series of diaries held safe which he used to let out his emotion. 

Yet it felt so real... 

Because when he was in need of help there was no one to offer a hand, no one to listen, no one to do anything and when he was alone crying in his bed there was no one to hear, no one to comfort.

His own mind is his prison.  

Whenever he saw noob his mind spiraled down, emotions flooding in but he had to put a good face on, he couldn't cry so pathetically in front of this boy, he just couldn't. He was the one strong on mind in his team, crying was not an option. He is the giver, not a receiver. 

Those memories bring misery and no ease, things that once felt blissful now were so obviously fake and indifferent of everything else. His old friend is probably living his life to its fullest for this stolen, blood covered money. His appearance, his clothing, his name, his existence, why he has to remember them, why? Such a blessing was this lie, this lack of knowledge, moments when he didn't know how he died, his past a fussy mess like puzzles to be solved. He wished to know like most but now that he actually knows he regrets every of his wishes. Every single one of them.

Everything changed when he decided to dig through his stuff, finding a picture of him and that man. Suddenly he remembered. All of it. The pain, the betrayal. It felt so real yet so distant. 

Emotion took over, he was crying. That name, Itrapped, he could hear it so clearly, but... something was off. He couldn't see his face, the picture had it covered with a black square and the only image in Chance's head was his smile. It was so sarcastic, so narcissistic, so... damn proud, reeking of toxin, but it wasn't like this before. No... he can clearly remember the time it seemed sweet and understanding.

But one more thing was there...   His eyes, WHY CAN'T HE REMEMBER HIS GODDAMN EYES?! 

He had to calm down, it was not helping, he had to…

He had to know. 

What did they look like? Were they full of pride, were they brutal and cold? Or were they beautiful, calm and sweet? 

"I don't know" - he whispers in the dead of night. The only mental image he can recall is of his face, no, his upper face covered... bandaged?

"...I remember" - he thinks out loud. 

The time when he was admitted to the hospital... what was it for again?

No one knows, at least for now. 

He should go to sleep but will he? I don't think so. 

He may lay, he may close his eyes and pray for a semblance of sleep but he won't get it. 

Those memories hit him like a truck, whenever he closes his eyes he can see his "friend" but not his face and that fact alone tortured him, because he had spend a good amount of life with that man, giving him his love and appreciation and yet his face is still blank like it never existed. 

It feels like he is missing an important part of his past self,

 "If I have to remember, at least let me remember everything”  he thought… prayed… whispered?

He wants to remember but nothing he tried allowed him to.

Not. A. Thing.

Morning rolled in as he watched the sun come up and heard his teammates waking up, probably preparing breakfast and themselves for another day. 

He was worried about someone seeing that something was off.

Not a soul could know. 

He HAD to calm down and wash up, no way in hell will he show himself to them in such a state.

His face was covered in tears, he didn't sleep and looked like a ghost... his eyes were so damn tired. The only thing he thought could possibly save him  was dumping his head in freezing water and drinking a few cups of coffee downstairs to stay awake. Afterall it would raise a good amount of suspicion if he wouldn't come down for at least this meal and he wants no suspiton.

As he thought, he did, though the water seemed colder... rougher? 

No, that seems very weird to think, water can't be rough... right...?

He honestly didn't know what he was feeling now, he was just really tired and felt the sudden change of temperature irritate his skin is all. 

"Right, that's it. Just it" he said, lost in his thought.

 After some thinking he threw on his clothes and went out of his room hoping no one will notice.

"You look like a ghost... Did you even sleep?" - said a voice brutally dragging him back into reality. 

He had to answer, what would he answer?

Was there anything he had as an excuse? 

Why on earth he hadn't thought of that before…?

"You alright, Chance? Answer me." - The voice said. 

Now  looking directly at the source of the noise Cance said:

"I had a rough night but it's all right now. How about we go down to eat something, hm? I really need some strength to survive this day, y'know." 

He was internally hitting his head on a wall.

Why Chance? Why? He kept repeating in his head, nothing is alright, why did he say that?

He had the most perfect moment he could wish for to tell them everything.... but in all honesty we all know why.

Being the one who his team vents to is a burden he carries and he can't take off. He was the one people came to with all sorts of problems and  if he was to drop out of this role… there would be no one to replace him, no one to take this upon themselves. Without such a person the team falls apart. 

Besides, Guest was a great and for the most part understanding teammate but the fear of being misunderstood was too much for him. It happened rarely but still, it happened. 

Whenever someone was having a problem it very often was Guest who decided if the person was overreacting or was it serious. 

He was always respectful about it but Chance....

The last thing he needs right now is for someone to tell him that his problems are nonexistent.

They made their way down in silence, Guest bought his excuse, it wouldn't be the first time something like this happened after all. 

Guest left Chance behind, as the man said he saw something and would check it. For the most part it was true. 

Chance in fact saw something in the corner of his eye but that was most probably another shadowy figure, though he never once checked it as he was too focused on preparing to meet his companions and not break into a crying mess at the sight of some. 

Once he deemed himself ready he stepped down on the stairs and as a last survivor sat at the end of the table, as far as humanly possible from the most questioning looks.

A few worried looks were exchanged, he looked pale as if he saw a ghost. 

Maybe he was the ghost?

Once everything was set in place and everyone was sat down all began to eat.

It wasn't much but such meals together brought them closer, stranthing their trust and their relationship. Currently the only thing this meal brought to Chance was another reason to cry.

He used to eat every single meal with that man and it served the same purpose. Strengthening relations and their team. Yet now Chance saw his past dinners only as  information stealing machines. 

He didn't eat much, just enough to stop his stomach from hurting but not enough to make him vomit. The train wreck he went through last night left him completely spent, dizzy and ill on his stomach.

After the loudest talks began to die down and the rest could actually hear something besides them, Buldierman started a simple chat with him. He seemed worried about Chances ill look and little to no eaten food. Chance used the most basic excuses in the universe to tangle out of this messy talk as he was becoming overwhelmed with emotion once more. 

Some baseless and nonsensical excuses later Builderman noticed Chance wasn't too cooperative and, though worried, switched to another person. Chance didn't care who it was, he just needed to be out of there and fast as tears welled in his eyes. 

Not very helping was the fact that directly next to him was Noob, seating and chatting. It wasn't his fault that he resembled Chance's Judas in every aspect BUT being a traitor. 

After looking through his things he felt as if he ate the forbidden apple, everything, EVERY DAMN THING was as if painfully ripped out of his past. The words spoken, the scenery, the people and their behaviour, everything reminded him. He wanted to scream and cry, he wanted to just let it out.

When he was still alive he thought that iTrapped could just rip his heart out, he thought the man could do whatever he wanted with him, he thought… that it would feel good but now that it actually happened he realised that it is quite the opposite.

He wanted to speak up, wanted to seek help but he knew too damn well that no one would take him seriously. 

May god strike him if he ever thinks about telling his teammates about the things he's been hearing and seeing as it was basically a VIP ticket for getting thrown out and maybe even executed and honestly he didn't feel like saying goodbye to his life yet. Just yet.

This is not a place for the weak. Here first comes the team,only then an individual. Survival is the sole purpose of them being here and that purpose can not be fulfilled without the people being healthy, both on body and on soul.

Odds were on his side now as one particular person said something they clearly shouldn't because soon after a bit of silence Shedletsky told everyone to go to their rooms besides… someone. Chance doesn't pay attention to who it is, he simply doesn't care. As soon as this request left the man's mouth he was speed walking to his cozy room, just to get away from the piercing looks that felt like cold, judging stares at his soul. 

Now alone he could finally shed those tears he's been holding back since getting ready.

After some sobbing he took out those pictures once again, 

Just one more look he thought, but every time his eyes landed on his covered face he cried louder, letting out strangled moans, barely able to breathe.

Looking at the men he once loved hurt knowing what he knows now. 

Why did he do it? Was he really so deprived of emotion and feelings? Was money all that mattered the whole time? Maybe, just at some point… a part of him was saying it's impossible but the louder part screamed that there had to be something more.

He took his jacket and shoes off while laying down in his bed, picture and his current diary in his hands, holding them above his head, analysing, remembering. What would the rest think if they saw him so pathetic and miserable?

Did he lock the door?! Putting his things down he almost ran to the door and locked it once, twice before going back.

This time he took off his accessories and took just the diary. He wrote and wrote and wrote, his handwriting deteriorating with each written sentence, whispers getting more noticeable until… they told him to write and whispered the words. 

Oh so badly did he want to write it but he knew the dangers of it. Though his mental state was going downhill he knew better than to do it. He put down his notebook and took the pictures instead to stare at them up to the moment he couldn't just keep his eyes open anymore.

He put his hand down and closed them.

Why should he fight it?

It's gonna come to me eventually. Might as well let it when I want it. Was his last thought before locking his pictures away and just laying there. He allowed those feelings and conflicting emotions to take over. Now nothing could draw him back to reality.  

If his face was covered with tears before now it definitely looked as if he just went out of a shower. He embraced the feelings although it felt painful. He couldn't think straight and could barely breathe, choking on his tears. It enveloped him like water would envelope a swimmer but weirdly enough he didn't drown. He was going back to the way it used to be, the past so clear it hurt. He soon stopped sobbing as he just simply didn't have any more tears left to put out. Instead he stared at the ceiling, listening to the clock ticking.

As he opened his eyes he noticed immediately that he fell asleep at some point of his thinking.

He slowly rose up from the bed and walked to the bathroom sink to wash his face. He noticed in the mirror above that he didn't look as pale anymore, which made him weakly smile. That moment of giving up his control over his emotions was much needed as he felt better. 

Sure it was partly because he finally got some amount of much needed sleep but also because he allowed himself. The voices and shadows were way less visible, reducing to small discoloration and constant noise.

It definitely wouldn't last long and was actually slowly coming back to its everyday presence just now. It didn't matter because even a second without them was bliss. He was ready to at least pretend to be fine. Now that he cried all of his tears out and constantly thought about everything he grew some sort of immunity to it. It wasn't big and trying to remember his looks still gave him chills but it didn't make him want to punch a wall and cry out a whole new ocean. 

He was ready for a round.

After some waiting in his bed he thought he misread the hour and took a glance at the clock. Five minutes past 4pm.

Five minutes past the time the rounds usually start.

Could it be…? No, surely not. 

He heard from others that The Spectre sometimes leaves people in the house if he doesn't see them fit for a round but would it actually happen to him out of all people?

Chapter Text

He was standing high above, undefeated and unchallenged. His name still spiked fear in many robloxians. The tale being passed on through generations. Will he come back to bring terror?

One thing they didn't  know was that the notorious hacker was now somewhere far away, kept under control by a being daring to set rules onto him. He had to fight, had to work hard to keep the respect given to him by his tale. 

Lately though he proved himself worthy of not only his name but gaining freedom he never had. He was able to show his loyalty to the one oppressing him, which allowed him to travel through dimensions once more. All these things he can now experience, all these things he can learn and train. It all made him unwilling to live without it. Although one rather unexpected thing came out of this newfound freedom. He could feel. Completely feel, as if before his feelings were shut off, manipulated even.

Not only negative feelings at that. It started with more neutral emotion but gradually grew into positives. It was new and it was uncomfortable. He was pleased to actually feel something other than passionate hatred he was made of but it just didn't feel right, in fact it felt so wrong that it made him feel filthy . He wondered if anyone noticed this. As if he's gonna answer any questions that may be on someone's tongue regarding his degrading behavior.

He was out on a round when he noticed one small detail. The survivors looked more stressed than usual. Before he wouldn't care but now? He was intrigued, he wanted to know why. He needed to, curious little being he was. So he began his search, tossing the killing quest aside. 

He kept an eye on everything in his field of view but didn't seem to notice anything wrong. Were they finally going insane? He decided to resume the slaughter, going one by one when it clicked. One of them is missing, nowhere on the map, nowhere to stop his tracks. He double checked, counted them even, curiosity taking over once more like a parasite. He was more certain by minute. That grey guy, Chance wasn't it? He wasn't present on this map. No dead body on the ground, not standing anywhere, not even a single sign of life. He just vanished. 1x got distracted by this fact, still processing it. How? Is that even possible? Sure, he did hear some stories about people not being taken into a round but he never thought they were true. Well, he has his doubts of course. He could have not checked every corner of the map or not counted correctly. Whatever. If it's true, it means he has an advantage. One less survivor? AND a sentinel? It was truly a jackpot for him. 

The doubts lasted till the night following the round. 1x went about his routine. His mind was still on the previous discovery, though barely as his focus shifted to his current task. C00lkid went outside to have some fun but it was getting very late. 1x was supposed to find and bring the kid back home. He stayed outside after doing so, enjoying the coolness of the night. Later he went back, completing his routine and going to sleep. 

He opened his eyes to complete darkness. He knew this place and how dangerous it can prove to be. One wrong move, one wrong word and everything fell down. This place allowed for communication between the players and The Spectre, where he was in control. He was here only once to prove his loyalty and receive his prize for it. Out of the unforgiving darkness you could make out some shapes. The most notable one to him was the tall man staring right at him. No word had to be said as he immediately sat down on the chair in front, the man's eyes piercing his soul. With eerie silence he was handed a neat stack of papers, not big, it rather looked like a document of some sorts. And a document it was. A contract assigning a survivor and a killer of choice for a mission.  

It stated a few interesting things but he didn't feel like helping a survivor, why was he chosen anyway? He declined and as written in the contract he had one day to make up his mind and deliver the final answer.. The dark figure sent him back to his room but not before telling him whose contract it was. Before he could react to the information he found himself back in his bed with a newfound dilemma in his head that came from the simple fact of who chose him. 

Chance, it was Chance.  

He didn't like him, the man always managed to annoy him or leave him completely flabbergasted but he couldn't lie, that gambling addict was entertaining to watch and even was able to intrigue 1x. The hacker was curious about one thing - why wasn't he scared? No one ever was able to look him into the eyes without crumbling down but him? It sometimes felt like the man was staring right at his soul and he hated how his look pierced him without any effort. It was beyond him how the mortal looked at him without fear even though he could rip the life from his eyes effortlessly. Safe to say the hacker liked to play with his little, fragile toy. The dilemma came from that exact fact - seeing his favourite toy so up close and experiencing his most vulnerable moments while being in the power to crush him completely was oh so tempting. Though it meant he had to help the addict to solve his problem and would be punished if he did otherwise. He wanted to have such sensitive information about the survivor but that meant he had to give away something himself. 

The contract was very simple, Chance had some unfinished stuff back on earth and he had a chance to finish it off only if a killer of his choice went with him. The rest would be taken care of by The Spectre. Of course he agreed and now he's waiting and praying for 1x1x1x1 to agree as well because if he doesn't a random killer would be assigned and that could be a big problem.

Back in his house Chance had a hard time trying to keep calm in front of his teammates. His main focus is still on that contract. He was about to have another breakdown in his room when he was asked about it. Driven by emotion and desire to see his ‘friend’ once more he agreed and by crossing out killers that would be problematic on his quest he chose 1x. It was logical but at the same time idiotic and he was fed up. After all, anyone chosen could decline and he would get a random killer, which most probably was going to happen.

Everyone was spending their time in a shared space, just having fun, talking and playing. Well, everyone but Chance who was now plotting how to get out of here and not be even more suspicious than he already was. So when he noticed he wasn't getting out of here anytime soon he went to an unoccupied part of the sofa and stayed there, lost in thought. 

He didn't really want to see the man who betrayed him but there was no going back. All he wants is someone to lean on, someone to give him a hand and help him walk through it but will anyone take him seriously? Or will they think he's being dramatic? Because no one here ever saw him cry, they didn't even see him sad. Always cheerful and full of life, finding positives everywhere. Always. That is his role.

Sure, the hacker he chose to go with was supposed to help him but will he? He's a killer, a merciless, unchanging force ready to set the world on fire. Honestly it pained him that the only person caring enough was his own executioner. All these people having fun in front of him couldn't even check on him. But who's to blame? Certainly not them . No, he blamed himself, after all he didn't tell them anything, he always pretended to be okay even if his heart was shaking. Even now when he could just walk up to someone, anyone, he chooses to stay in his seat and watch. Just watch. Watch as people are running away blissfully from their problems, just having fun while he is actively fighting not to cry right then and there. 

It's getting late, he should probably go to his bed but no one is going. It would be suspicious wouldn't it? Going to bed at this hour was unusual for him. Would they even notice? If he didn't go to bed one day would they? Or if he went very early? Did they even notice he didn't move an inch from his seat for at least one and half hours? That's the true new thing for him - sitting still so long is beginning to hurt his body but he won't move. Too much is going on in his head to even feel the pain, because the only pain he focused on was in his head. The never ending noose in his mind, those whispers were starting to get on his nerves. 

Finally they checked the clock, it was late, he knew that but didn't really hear the exact hour. He didn't want to hear it, he didn't want to hear anything. They began to move to their rooms. Well, it was a bad idea to not wear his shades because someone looked in his direction and saw his disturbing, deep stare. Not at them, not at anything in particular. Just a deep, thoughtful stare. It was Elliot. It was disturbing to say the least. He never saw Chance looking so serious, lost even. It shook him to the core, seeing the person always so full of life now seemingly not having any life in them. He decided to walk up to Chance but he just smiled. Once Elliot was in his field of view, he looked up at him smiling, not a usual smile, just a forced, fake smile. The healer could see his eyes more clearly now. They were sad. Sad and tired. Elliot didn't bother to talk, he just took his teammate by hand and walked him back to his room. The healer didn't plan on leaving him alone there so he sat on his bed and waited as he went to change. Once back the gambler laid in his bed like nothing happened. Elliot made sure his friend had everything he needed before going to the door thinking it's a better idea to let him rest than bombard him with questions. 

- “Dont worry buddy, tomorrow everything will be better” - Chance said. His voice was forced but it was clear he was sad, the voice strained, tinted with worry. The healer could swear he could hear a little “I hope” at the end. He decided to leave him for now, afterall tomorrow was a day as well right? He was beginning to get tired now anyway. 

Chance was scared, terrified even to fall asleep.

Did 1x actually agree? If so, was he forced? 

Would the killer hurt him or kill him? 

Well you can't fight sleep endlessly can you?

Once more he opened his eyes to eerie darkness. Yet to his euphoria 1x was with him, he must have agreed. He couldn't look the hacker in his eyes, he was so scared, he didn't want to go anywhere. Unfortunately that's exactly what happened. Moments after they saw each other, they were teleported to their temporary house, a beautiful house, with everything they needed to survive.

Chapter Text

The house wasn't too big, just enough to fit two people comfortably. They were standing on a driveway facing the house that looked impossibly normal - a stark contrast to their round-by-round lives. The killer moved without a word, checking if the door was closed but fortunately it wasn't. Nothing was said, nothing had to be. Both knew why they were here. They started exploring the house, going in different directions. Once they entered the building they were greeted by a cozy living room with a little kitchen on the left and a staircase on the right. 1x decided to go up feeling a bit overwhelmed, it was a week already since he got his new emotions, surely he would be used to it by now if not for the fact he completely shoves his feelings down and that caused him to develop a certain type of disgust towards anything new he might feel besides undying curiosity. Upstairs he found two bedrooms, both identical if not for the contents of the furniture. Looks like they were provided with clothes, nice. 1x felt a bit of joy followed by distaste. He did not understand what was happening to him and he wanted it to stop but now he was stuck here with a person as curious as him. 

In the meantime Chance was walking downstairs. The house was a nice place, it looked cozy and that fact brought some semblance of peace to his mind. He found a basement door and inside a lot of different types of items - from tech stuff to basic everyday use things. They had supplies and weapons, nice. He went back up, found a bathroom and a garage. In the latter he found a car and a box, a cardboard box labeled ‘a new beginning awaits’. He took the box to the living room where he saw 1x just going down the stairs. Chance set the box aside with newfound motivation. 

-“Found anything useful?” - he asked to which the killer replied

-“Ive found bedrooms, we’re provided with clothes. Yours on the left.” 

-“Well that's good, I've found a bathroom and a basement. In the basement there's a lot of random stuff so we should look through it later. But, yeah, there's food, everyday items, even a car.”

That response left 1x thinking, he was lost. “It’s like he wants us to live like.. normal people”

-“That wouldn't be wrong, though not exactly right. Remember why we're here?” 

At the last sentence, 1x looked at him with a frown which left Chance feeling a sting of guilt, he looked away before speaking once more, pointing to the box. 

-“Heh.. a new beginning? It's still the same hell” - 1x spoke reading the label. 

He opened the box but stopped for a moment to read the little paper inside. While he was reading Chance decided to take a look inside the box. It had the most important things. Most notably car and house keys, Chance's notebook with a picture, his flintlock and 1x’s swords and chains. It also included some passwords, ID’s and other paperwork.

-“Well this is interesting,”- Chance  said, pulling out 3 pairs of keys - 1 for the car and 2 for the house.

- “This letter is bulshit. Wishing us luck and all, you know, typical friendly talk. But if you don't knoe this yet we are being constantly watched" - He said looking Chance straight in the face. He continued -” What's the plan?”

-“I… don't really know. We do have a map though, so… maybe we should look around the town?” The sudden change of tone left him  lost a bit.

1x nodded and went straight to the garage followed by Chance with the keys and a map. He handed one pair of keys to 1x, started the car and hid his house keys. 

-“You're gonna lock the door?” - 1x asked with a bit of annoyance at his partner's lack of thought.

This is a WIP. More info in the notes.