Work Text:
Four Minutes (to Save the World)
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The gates opened the second Claudette hit the ground.
Whoever it was, Meg didn’t linger on the potential threat which was Blood Warden. Maybe the survivor who opened the gate knew something she didn’t, sussed out all four of the perks the Killer brought with them this time around. A strong possibility, because while she was busy running around and avoiding the barbed spear shot in her direction, the others were doing generators; if there were slowdowns, they would have noticed.
The Deathslinger was a damn good shot, but Meg Thomas was a slippery survivor, fast and practiced. It made for an interesting game of cat and mouse, one which lasted too long on his end. By the time he decided to go for another Survivor, three generators were done, and the other two were well on their way to completion.
Ada had one hook. Wesker was at two. This would be Claudette’s second as well.
That was alright, she surmised. Time would be limited to pull her off, but at least they had time.
Ducked behind a stack of trash she listened to the Killer reload his gun, the dangerous click of machinery making her skin crawl. Meg never touched a gun before - not even a combat knife, really, until Wesker started giving her self-defense lessons. Having been at the receiving end of such a long-ranged weapon more times than she could physically count, Meg decided she didn’t want to ever touch one anyways.
She waited, planning to wait for the Deathslinger to pick up Claudette. Following behind quietly, Meg would watch him to hook her before sneaking behind and unhooking Claudette, likely before she even finished screaming. She vaguely knew where the exit gates were, but didn’t know if one was open, or both. The Killer would likely not shoot unless he was in a position to drag them away from the exit, get another hit to either down Claudette or injure Meg, then catch up to down Meg if he got her instead.
Footsteps, heels digging into the soft ground not too far off from the hidden Survivor. A flash of red, Ada swinging over the window right as the Deathslinger picked up Claudette. The Killer twisted his head, a flash of light exploding at the ground at his feet a millisecond too late for the save. Ada lingered, flashlight in hand as a back-up as she backed up towards a pallet, clicking the light in an attempt to bait him over.
It worked, but the swing which caught her in the side sent her to the ground, Meg feeling a rush of cold race down her skin.
No One Escapes Death.
FUCK.
She heard Claudette’s struggling move with the Killer, the sprinter immediately darting around the pile of crushed metal to start healing Ada, wanting to pick her up. Once Claudette was on a hook, he could easily camp her and Ada’s downed body. They could waste time looking for the Hex, but Meg couldn’t recall seeing any obvious totems. And if they were particularly unlucky.
“Run,” Ada snapped at her from the ground, the Killer’s heartbeat growing stronger in Meg’s ears.
The second she stood and turned a bang cracked the air, snapping just past her ear as her entire body flinched away. Like the shot aimed for her, Meg was off, taking off in a dead sprint away from Claudette’s hook and Ada’s bleeding body. Another click warned her the next shot might not miss.
The brace on the Deathslinger’s leg creaked with each step, Meg having no doubt he was taking off after her. He didn’t need to travel far from the other downed prey to get her, not with his gun loaded. She heard his jacket shift, looking behind her to keep track of the sights pointed in her direction. He watched her drift to the left, aiming right, but at the moment she should have switched gears she remained left, the trick only going to work once as he pulled the trigger.
Ducking into what was hopefully a decent tile, with high walls, a window, and she prayed an untouched pallet, Meg turned yet another corner. The less she was in his line of sight, the more time she could buy.
More time for what?
Cracks began to manifest in the ground beneath her. She could sense Wesker was still in the trial - that he did not just leave the moment the hex presented itself. She was here. Claudette was on the hook, and Ada on the ground. So where was he?
No time to linger on that, she focused, watching the red stain of the Killer dance across the ground as he followed her tracks. Meg was already rushing down the wall, looking back to watch him reload before she looped back around the corner. Fingers brushed the pallet, not sure if she was ready to drop it, already making a mental note of where everything was in this tile.
The Deathslinger was catching up, moving faster than before, the frenzy of the hunt urging him forward. She bolted for the window, wondering she was going to win this part of the game. Would he swing and miss, or shoot and she needed to dodge?
If he shot at her and missed, she couldn’t take the window. So he would merely catch up and swing.
Meg spun the second he pulled the trigger, the spear splintering the wood of the window. She launched herself over it, pausing for a moment to give him a playful grin.
The Deathslinger reloaded his gun, Meg taking off before he could try to get her through the divide. His leg peeked around, the killer vaulting behind her in an attempt to eat up some of the distance.
His head jerked, then, looking in the direction of Claudette’s hook. The woman was off, Ada’s aura disappearing from Meg’s view whilst someone else picked her up. The Deathslinger growled, twisting on his good heel to march off towards the injured survivors.
“Hey! Eyes on me!” Meg raced towards him, fingers grasping the pallet he was too busy to notice. She slammed it down on his back, lurching him forward as he arched with stun. His hat tipped, glowing eyes glaring over at her from above his shoulder. Meg yelped as he fired, spear piercing straight into her shoulder and dragging her to the killer.
Foot braced on the pallet, making it impossible for him to actually hit her from across the piece of wood. Nevertheless, he would win this match, because as long as he did not disengage the chain she would become injured, easier prey to track.
That was okay, she grimaced, gripping the bloodied spear in her chest. It was slick with the blood of the others, coating her fingers in a way which made her nauseous. Meg stopped struggling, knowing as long as she didn’t move, he didn’t move, the chain would hold for much longer - enough time for the others to get away.
He seemed to understand her plan, his eyes narrowing. The Deathslinger moved, Meg twisting with him as he started to walk backwards, letting the chain hit the side of the crushed metal which made up the walls of the Autohaven wreckage yard, grating against the links. If she wasn’t going to break it, well, he could just as easily, without calling back the weapon.
“Bastard,” she snarled, hearing him laugh from around the garbage.
The chain snapped, letting her push off the pallet to rush away. Meg gripped her side, abandoning the tile entirely as she heard him reload. She needed a new place, a reset with tall walls and a pallet. Hell, she’d take a rock, but a window could only buy her so much time - assuming he didn’t shoot her across it.
Meg didn’t look back as her footsteps carried her towards the shack, not until she heard him raise the rifle once more.
She jerked towards the door, certain she could make it before the spear hit her.
Luck was not on her side, the barbed tip hooking against a rib and making her scream. How she could bear this pain on an hourly, minutely basis, well, the Entity likely had a play in it. But each time was like brand new, a wave of nausea following the visceral pain. She dug her feet in, fighting against the rifle as he dragged her away from the shack.
A body threw itself in front of her, trapping her between the corner of the building and themselves.
“Claude, don’t!” She rasped, looking up at big brown eyes.
“I’ll crawl, you keep him busy,” she held her fast against the building. “I can reach the gate, just give me time. Wekser-”
The Redeemer snapped, and the Deathslinger slammed his rifle against Claudette’s backside. She went down, crumpling as Meg broke free with a splatter of bright red blood.
Meg paused, looking at the cowboy - the outlaw - as he recovered from the failed attempt to get at her. He also looked at her, sneering before his fingers deftly worked to reload his rifle.
The game was on.
She didn’t immediately duck into the shack, though there was a generator there which could be of use to dodge around if needed. The basement was there, but she knew how to use the stairs to her advantage. No, the most time would be bought with a quick loop around, dodging the shot on the long side before ducking in. From there she could use the window until he reloaded, needing to play the game of dancing around the open areas he could fire through. He could just as easily catch up, but she wondered if the Killer would try to have his fun first.
She hoped he would. That bought them time.
Feet carried her wide as the predicted shot missed, though there was always the question as to whether it was intentional. He could be trying to corral her somewhere easier to down her; a good survivor knew how to loop shack, and Meg Thomas was one of the best.
A vault over the window, a tease at the pallet. Meg glanced at Claudette’s aura to see it was painstakingly moving towards one of the exit gates. Wesker and Ada were nowhere to be seen, at least not while she focused on not getting hit.
Blood gushed from her side, leaking everywhere the moment she had to stop to walk, to wait for the Deathslinger to make his next move. She couldn’t afford to pause to try and mend, not when every second counted in a chase where her team’s lives hung in the balance.
She ducked inside, sprinting past the generator. He didn’t follow her through the pallet, thank god-
The spear shot itself straight into her shoulder, jerking her around to face the grinning Killer through the window. Meg grunted against the reeling force, her shoes scraping against the wooden floor of the shack in a desperate attempt to fight back. The chain was too tough, though. She wouldn’t be able to break it in time.
Pushing past the Killer, Albert Wesker vaulted over the window, catching Meg against the generator. Hands on either side he pinned her, the smell of his sharp cologne overwhelming the space between them.
The chain grated against his S.T.A.R.S. vest, adding to the strain. Meg’s body tried to move with it, but the former Mastermind had her stuck solid, not letting her slip past even if she wanted to.
The Deathslinger snarled, breaking the chain. Meg grimaced, her back digging into the generator from the backlash of tension. She gave Wesker a cheeky grin, daring to peck him on the jaw.
“Thanks, babe.”
He shot her a look beneath his glasses, lips in a thin frown.
Meg caught the Killer’s smirk, the pair of Survivors scattering when he started to reload his rifle again.
“Ada is getting Claudette, and they’re leaving,” Wesker informed her, the two of them ducking around the long side of shack, where no window or pallet could save them. “What do you want to do?”
“Get out alive?” Meg snorted. “What’s your plan, Mastermind?”
“I thought I would consult the expert,” he replied, taking a moment to start mending her. He kept his eyes out for the Deathslinger, watching the man snake around the shack. Wesker pushed Meg ahead of him.
“Wide!” She barked, and he understood instantly, jerking away from shack in the same instance the gun cracked its spear past him. Then he was covering her back again, Meg breaking off to duck into the shack. He worked around towards the window, pausing just as the Deathslinger fired again, the spear teasing him through the open gap.
He must have reload add-ons, Wesker mused to himself. He’s firing too fast.
The bell tolled, warning of the losing time. Claudette was on the ground, buying them more. But it wouldn’t last long, not once Ada got them both up and out-
Wesker took a moment to glance over at the gate, seeing another red aura fall near it. Ada. What was she doing?
His distraction cost him, the Deathslinger aiming through the boards of the shack at his sprinting form. With a snap and crack the spear slammed into him, tearing through his bullet-proof vest to hook into his shoulder. With a snarl he gripped it, teeth grinding together when he tried to rip it out.
The Killer’s chuckle was punctuated by the reeling of his chain, backing through the door to get around.
A tuft of red hair darted in front of him.
“Don’t!” He grabbed her as she stood between him and the Deathslinger. “You’re the better runner, Meg. If he picks me up, then go. You can make it.”
“You’re on death hook,” she argued, grasping her side. “I won’t-”
“You will. Move, Meg!” He snarled, twisting just as the Killer swung for the both of them.
A blade slammed into his back, breaking the chain and causing his body to crumble to the ground. His head spun, grunting when stunned fingers grasped at the ground to orient him to his position. Rusted metal pricked at his skin, Wesker looking up to watch boots step over him as though he hardly mattered, pursuing Meg whilst she raced around the shack once more.
Slugging bastard.
He forced himself to crawl, dragging himself towards the pallet end of the shack. Best case scenario, Meg would be able to slam it down and buy herself time to pick him back up. Surely, then, the Deathslinger would not resist the easier prey which grunted and whimpered in pain. Meg possessed no hook stages, Wesker was dead if he was picked up. One sacrifice was better than none, though perhaps his game was to simply run down the clock.
Wesker paused near the pallet, attempting to recover. It clicked.
Ada downed herself to slow down the endgame collapse, buying them time.
As if sensing his thoughts the woman in question sprung back up, back to full health. She helped Claudette to her feet, Wesker sensing when the latter disappeared through the exit gate.
He grimaced. He wouldn’t bleed out before the trial around them fully collapsed, giving Meg no hope for a potential Hatch play. Already the orange-red cracks were growing larger, stinging his eyes with the ashes of the Entity’s creation.
Tennis shoes stepped over him, Meg’s hands seizing him by the vest to haul him to his feet. He shouted warning when heavy boots stomped towards her, the Deathslinger swinging through the pallet.
Meg was faster. She was always faster; instincts were honed by years of torture, pursuement through maps she knew perhaps better than the back of her hand. Fingertips slammed the pallet straight down on the Killer’s head, seeming to knock his hat down over his eyes. Then she was hauling Wesker back up to his feet, as though he weighed nothing to her.
“You’re welcome,” she grinned impishly despite the blood gushing from her side. Her eyes sparkled at him, as if they weren’t both suffering from eternal wounds and needing to run for their lives.
One needed fun where they could find it. He sighed, giving her a swift kiss on the temple.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“Come on!” She raced off, leaving him to take off after her with the shattering of wood behind them. There was little to cover them outside of the occasional tile, piles of crushed junk, cars, arms and legs occasionally falling from them with blood leaking into the grass. Cruel reminders of the crimes of The Wraith, a victim as much as any of them.
The pair wove between one another, one occasionally yanking the other out of the way of the bloody spear. It was a dance between them and their killer, Meg vaulting over a window whilst Wesker turned the corner, catching her hips when the Deathslinger impaled her through the opening. He didn’t let her get too close, forcing the Killer to break the chain if he wanted to even try to catch one of them. Meg led him through the maze, the cracks of fire widening beneath their feet, the glow almost too intense to bear. They had seconds, he guestimated. No time to fool around, not anymore, red dress flashing around the corner.
He heard the flashbang hit the ground before he could look up, growling when he went blind. A hand pushed his lower back, guiding him towards the exit.
Shaking the bright light away, he saw he was just at the threshold. Meg paused just beside him, eyes meeting in reassurance. She was there, next to him, as always.
Ada crossed the exit, securing her survival for at least another Trial. Wesker turned to join her, the relief of another successful escape filling his bones perhaps a little too early.
They made it.
Meg must have seen something out of the corner of her eye, honed by hundreds of thousands of struggles for life or death.
She launched herself at Wesker, shoving him through. In the same instance her blood splattered across him, warm and sticky against his cheek as though she kissed him there.
“No!”
He lunged forward, slamming into the black, jagged spines which prevented the Killer from leaving, and him from returning.
Meg felt her body lurch, stumbling backward even as she reached for his outstretched hand. Fingertips brushed, a black fog swallowing Wesker whole.
“Meg!!”
She fought against the chain yanking her back into the collapsing Trial, knowing it was futile even when her heels dug into the dirt. The Deathslinger loomed over her, greasy strands of his grey hair falling around the both of him, rim of his hat brushing red curls.
Crooked teeth flashed her an equally twisted grin beneath his whiskers, eyes glittering.
“Ye might act the maggot,” he drawled, “but I think you earned this one, lil’ cailín.”
He broke the chain, watching her sprint back through the gate with an amused grin. Meg launched herself through, feeling the talons of the Entity scrape at her ankles just as she crossed into the safe zone.
And she kept running, not daring to look back.