Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He already knew it was a foolish idea but that didn’t stop him. That huge meteor heading Bloxburg’s way was surely going to wipe everything in its path, people’s homes, the town square, his workplace, everything he had love and built countless memories on, gone.

Yet that didn’t stop him. Smith had already decided that he will broadcast the meteor strike like the madman he was. This all felt like nothing as he was already weathered by the forces of nature his entire life, covering them live for all of Robloxians to see, one of these notable coverages was an ef-7 tornado that ravaged Roblox HQ.

In the end that hubris only lead to his own death, that stupidly large piece of rock crashed and burnt the news anchor.

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A great force, burning sensation, the feeling of being ripped apart. It all abruptly ended.

…

Yet… the scene Smith had awaken to isn’t the ruins of his hometown but a completely different one, one he doesn’t recognize at all. What he was met isn’t the scent of noxious gases from a meteor crater but the scent of the dead. Rising from the carpet he woke up on, the reporter was filled with unease, just where could he possibly be? Is this his hell? Is this his punishment for daring to face against nature herself?

He walked off the bedroom, hoping there’s even somebody out there, but he was only met with a dreadful silence, same went for the nearby units in that motel he found himself in.

…!

That silence had ended. Sooner than he expected. And it’s not in the way he had hoped.

“Uurrrgh….”

A voice erupted from behind— it’s a zombie! So he wasn’t as alone as he thought, huh.

Smith knew he can’t stay passive forever, who knew those zombie apocalypse stories they make movies of are real? He ran back to a random motel unit as fast as he could and slammed the door shut, hoping that would hold the zombie off. Crap, the window is already broken so I guess locking the door doesn’t do anything anymore. No, he isn’t just gonna hide in a room or a closet or something, he’s going to do what he hasn’t done before: arm himself.

Hurriedly searching around the unit, he eventually found two things: an axe, and an M1903 Springfield with a pair of incomplete clips, not much, but should hold off whatever and whoever comes at him next.

Shortly after, that growling came back again, shoot, he must act fast! With no time to even prepare the rifle, Smith resorted to his second option…

THWACK!

Instincts fired up, he swung the axe at the direction of the sound, rotten blood pouring out, staining his face and his iconic suit a red-brown hue.

“…h-huh…”

Frozen in place, panting, he watched as the zombie dies its second death on the axe. He didn’t even know he was capable of that.

“I… oh God…”

The reporter looks around, if there’s anybody else, sighing as he confirms it to himself that there’s none. He dislodges the axe from the corpse.

“I should just… go.”

Smith whispered to himself as he makes a run out of the motel unit. God, he really needs to change if he doesn’t want to look like a mad murderer to other possible survivors.

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“I should look for other people, I can’t survive all alone in here…”

Smith thought to himself as he was wiping off the blood on his face with the handkerchief from his suit, using the crude reflection of an intact window to see himself. How great, the water supply is essentially nonexistent in this land, what a sick joke.

He took a glance at his suit jacket, knowing there’s no way of washing anything off. Smith knew he couldn’t just dispose of it either, he can’t afford to throw out clothes when the world is in a state like this! Whatever, now isn’t the time to think about looks is it? He just hopes whoever finds him right now wouldn’t think he’s some mad murderer off a slasher film.

Looking at his surroundings once again, he resorted to gathering a few supplies before heading out to search for people. It does feel weird to him, if he had to be honest. But no one lives in this entire motel anymore, so taking things here shouldn’t hurt should it?

After what felt like an eternity later, Smith finds himself a full suitcase: a small medkit, 2 rolls of bandages that didn’t fit inside said medkit, a bruised apple, more clips for his gun, canned ham, crackers, and lastly bottled water and an energy drink.

“Phew, I think I’m all set.”

Sighing to himself, he shuts the suitcase. Before he truly sets off, he also took an old-looking compass and stuffs it to the pocket of his suit. It’s going to be quite the journey from here onwards.

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Smith walked out of the motel once and for all. Everything seems calm for the time being at least. He decided to head northeast after taking a look at his compass.

Hiking up the hill he currently walks on, his mind is plagued with thoughts… Where had everyone on Bloxburg headed? Are they all safe? Is anyone even looking for him? His burnt body? Do the people mourn him, for his insolence?

—and how these thoughts were completely interrupted by the sound of raining bullets.

Rather than avoid it, the sound only attracted him to the source. There must be people there! So the reporter quickly changed his route and went sprinting towards his left with a kindling determination in his heart.

In no time, Smith reached the source of the gunfire, it was at an abandoned lumber yard! And from what he can vaguely make out of his sight, there seems to be a camp over there!

He wouldn’t be alone in here after a-

Bam.

More gunfire, and it landed right at him. His right leg.

Huh.

There wasn’t even a zombie near him for their shot to be misfired at him. Surely they were mistaken, right? Surely they just thought he was another zombie, right?!

“Hey-”

Before he was even given a chance to speak— another! Smith was fortunate enough that it merely grazed his cheek.

He didn’t have enough time to prep his gun in retaliation, it didn’t even help that it’s a gun model so old, he doesn’t even know how to operate it. Hell if he is able shoot to begin with.

The barely-seen shooter was reloading their gun already, so the reporter pretty much gave up on trying to reason with them and made a run for it, he didn’t bother thinking of where should he go and on what direction should it be. He just wants to get away as soon as he could, even if he is currently shifting most of his weight onto one side of his body.

Even if only 2 bullets went to him, it felt as if his entire body was screaming at him, maybe he should just give up and let his “afterlife” die out in less than an hour he has been in this world—

No.

Smith is determined he is going to persist in this world. So he kept running, until he is sure that that person who was shooting at him lost sight of him.

Eventually, the broadcaster found himself at what seems to be a parking lot surrounded by trees, and collapsed there from exertion.