Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[written aug 16]

[continued aug 17]

[continued aug 18]

[continued aug 24]

[continued aug 25]

[continued sep 20]

[continued sep 21]

hihi!

kiki/azure/toomanynicknames here :D

hmmmmm

just call me kiki or azure here on ao3 C:

this chpt is actually more of my note regarding both how this fic will work in some aspects and how i will be dealing with it due to my flipping schedule

so i’ll address the entire thingie with how i’m going to deal with this fic first since um. yeah

so 1.

shortest one here probably

i’ll (maybe?) try to write in present tense, but i’ve had this issue for the longest time where i’d write in the past tense…

(i’m not even sure if i’m actually writing it wrong or not bc it’s giving me a headache to think about and try to deal with ;o;)

hopefully that doesn’t affect anyone’s reading experience too much if i fail to write in the right tense D:

2.

expect a hella inconsistent update schedule

this is due to me having already started school and other things that i will not specify

basically tho, my schedule is

get up at 5 or 5:30 (if i do sleep…) —> get to school by 7 —> get home by 4 —> eat & shower —> do hw/chat with friends/play games/long period of dealing with whatever —> sleep (or i’m supposed to anyways)

with the whole sleep deprived tag thingie and my horrible sleeping time. uh. yh.

my sleeping schedule has actually gotten a bit better so now i mainly stay up for 1 to 2 nights and then sleep after rather than before where i had times where i went 5 nights without sleeping…

also fyi! it’s not bc i’m not trying to sleep but bc i can’t…

anyways, my only time to write is basically at night so that is um :/ yeah (my normal writing time for the previous series was from 11 to 3 or 4)

i’ll prob post every 1 or 2 weeks. (maybe more during breaks. prob less when i have school) tbh, i’d say maybe every 2 weeks? i’m not actually sure and i rly don’t want it to be that long, but i need to figure out school first…

3.

i still havn’t gone back and fixed this with my previous series but yh. there’s the entire sleep affecting me problem ;o;

i tend to make some minor mistakes in grammar or huge mistakes in what i’m writing (“his hand clamped his hand”...)

i try to fix these when i can, but it literally gives me a headache to look at what i spent writing for hours sometimes until like several days after or i’m just tired

so uh, please excuse those :D

4.

i plan to put art in this fic ><

if i get the energy tho ):

(IT EVEN FEELS LIKE I’M FORGETTING SMTH RN BC I DIDN’T GET SLEEP LAST NIGHT)

sob

more 2 be added if i remember

now about just certain thingies in this fic :D

was waiting for this part >:7

1.

i’ll actually be implementing more of my hcs in this fic since i didn’t rly do that in the last series (regarding the visuals and stuff)

2.

i plan to actually show the reasons for my hcs through my writing although it will show up in art (if i can figure out how exactly or just find a tut or smth)

note : i’ll implement my hcs into the story and will explain in depth :D

(looking back 1 and 2 is just the same shit…)

NOW FOR SMTH RLY IMPORTANT

i mean like, the other stuff was also important, but this is smth else.

originally, this was only meant to be a toxicpizza fic, but i decided to change it up a bit.

this fic will now still be toxicpizza but also explore the relationship dynamics between the characters (based on my hcs and way of interpreting of it if that makes sense)

on a final note, this note is subject to change and i will add a little thingie about it in my other chpt if i do change this up a bit!

have fun reading :D

SIDE NOTE BUT DUSK CAR, LAFFY TAFFY, AND CANNOLI DON’T APPEAR IN THIS FIC AS THIS TAKES PLACE BEFORE THEY GET FORSAKEN BUT THEY MIGHT BE MENTIONED AT ONE POINT OR ANOTHER. IDK c:

edit : i now add laffy taffy bc the way i set the whole getting forsaken thingie is different for this fic, and also, i just don’t want to write dusk car’s dialouge

edit : nah bye bye laffy taffy

side note #idk

according to my hcs >:D (since i’m using all of them in this fic)

1. 1x has black hair that becomes white the longer it gets
2. the zipper mouth is the teeth with the actual zip (that’s what it’s called right?) poking out whenever their mouth is closed
3. hands become more like claws near the fingers (not quite sure if this makes sense so def gonna try to draw this out and attach the pic

side note #AGAIN

i won’t be writing a happy ending for To Help (and love) Another due to the fact that i’d much rather direct my energy to this

also, what’s happiness?

><

side not #STOP WHY

i don’t have all the chpts fully planned out since i’m very indecisive and tend to change or improve on things. i do have a vague layout in my mind, but it’s messy. this will end up effecting updates a bit so sry D:

side note #sobbing now

two time uses their new design (if that’s how it would be called)

side note #...

i am aware of the fact that i have yet to proof read my last chpt from the other thingie

i will do that next decade

uh

alsooooooooooo

i like just remembered i had a oneshot idea

guess that’s not being written anymore :/

idk

just gotta see how this all turns out :c

edit here : i proof read it

Chapter Text

▆▆▆▆ :

Hello there, Elliot.

Read | 11:34 pm

▆▆▆▆ :

I see that you read my text. Now don’t you go just trying to ignore it.

Elliot :

sorry but do i know you?

▆▆▆▆ :

Not yet . Not quite yet. You soon will…

But, I do know you .

Elliot :

a lot of people know me… how did you even get my # then???

▆▆▆▆ :

I have my ways.

Read | 11:38 pm

▆▆▆▆ :

Have a pleasant day tomorrow.

Consider it a gift from me.

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What the #### was that—

Wait…

Why did I even reply to them??

Elliot, you are SO stupid.

WHERE WAS YOUR SENSE OF SAFETY???

Oh gosh was that so stupid of me.

Elliot clicked on the person’s icon and hit the block and report button. He would only have to wish that it wouldn’t come back to bite him and that the other person was only bluffing. How the person even got his number of all things—horrifying. He was sure that he had never, ever given out his number to any of the many people who would often come up to him: red in the face and fiddling as they left him small pieces of paper with their phone number neatly (or as neat as some of them could manage) printed on it or asked him for his personal number.

Elliot had heard of people having crazy fans. He had never thought of himself as a celebrity or anything similar of the sort ,but it unnerved him. For someone to be able to track down his phone number…it was something he would only ever see when he occasionally scrolled social media or when his co-workers would tell each other about how some deranged fan stalked down a celebrity. Hopefully, it was nothing of the sort although he just couldn’t push aside the feeling of danger.

He set down his phone on his bedside table and turned it down so that the screen wouldn’t be seen. Elliot slipped under his soft blanket and curled into a fetal position. Slowly, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

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Elliot fell out of bed with a thud.

He laid on the carpet as several moments passed and then groggily sat up. Elliot had rolled out of bed yet again. He could just hear his sister Mia joking once more about how he should just sleep in a crib so that he wouldn’t keep falling off his own bed.

The world spun and blurred before focusing itself. Elliot brushed it off and turned off the alarm he had set on his phone. He then started his daily routine: brush teeth, shower, and get dressed. He brushed out the last tangle in his yellow hair and scrambled to get dressed despite not even waking up late. A short sleeve red jacket went over his usual black turtleneck. Elliot pulled on the long sleeves to make sure there were no wrinkles and threw on another pair of the black pants that he had one too many of. Then, the little nametag with his name neatly printed on it was clipped onto his jacket, and he put on his visor. Finally, Elliot clipped on the little star clip from Mia in the same place it always sat in his hair. In no time, he was all dressed for work.

Elliot headed out of his room and gently closed the door so as to not wake up his sister who would usually sleep in. He made a quick breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast with enough for him, his sister, and his dad. He had just plated the final plate with a generous amount of the fluffy scrambled eggs when Mia walked in.

“Good morning.” She yawned sleepily.

Elliot smiled, “Good morning. Food?”

Mia nodded her head and walked over to the chair nearest to her. She plopped down in it and Elliot slid a plate towards her. He went over to the refrigerator and grabbed ketchup and gave it to her. Elliot covered the third and final plate before also sitting down with his own plate.

Elliot took a bite and watched as Mia drew a face and star on her breakfast with the ketchup bottle. The siblings ate together in silence: both of them too tired to speak. When they finished, Elliot attempted to do the dishes only to be nudged aside by Mia who signaled that she wanted to be the one to do it. He kissed her on the forehead before grabbing his keys and bag with the lunch he had prepared the night before. Soon, he was waving goodbye to Mia and out the door.

He opened the car door and climbed in. The engine rumbled on and he was then on the road in the early morning of Robloxia. Other cars went past and Elliot was at Builder Brothers Pizza in fifteen minutes—a little later than usual due to traffic along the way.

As per usual, Elliot was the first employee there. That was no surprise—he wasn’t employee of the month for several months running for no reason. The day sped by as it always did with the usual prep work and then the opening time with the customers coming in with their many orders. Thankfully, one of his co-workers was on delivery for the day so Elliot could just stay back in the pizzeria. He spent the day running around helping with baking the pizzas, boxing them, and taking orders.

The day was going by as it would for any other day and Elliot was simply taking a short break to catch his breath when he noticed that something was amiss—there was a slight burning smell. He hurried over to the kitchen where the new employee was busy rolling out balls of dough for the giant pizza order they had just received online. Elliot exchanged greetings with them and quickly checked the ovens where some pizzas were already baking into golden-brown perfection. Not a single one was burnt in the slightest.

“Hey, Elliot. Something wrong?” They asked.

“No, nothing is wrong. Don’t worry…”

“...Do you…smell anything weird?”

The other robloxian thought for a moment as they paid more attention to the scent of the place. Finally, they nodded their head in agreement.

“It’s like…something’s burning…right?”

Elliot could feel his stomach sinking, “Yeah…”

“I’ll…um…I’ll go and try to find out what it is. Hopefully it’s nothing bad but just be careful, alright?”

“Alright. See ya, Elliot.”

“Yeah. See you too.”

Elliot left the kitchen and continued his search for the origin of the weird burning smell. Eventually, after going through the entire building, he found something outside near the back entrance. It was…something he never wished to see again. A black and red glitch forming over part of the wall was emitting the smell of an uncontrolled fire. He recognized the abnormalcy; it was something that he frequently saw many years back when he was still a jittery teenager who was adjusting to the work place. When it had disappeared for all those years, Elliot had hoped that it would never, ever come back.

Now, it was here again. However, as Elliot nervously inspected it, it seemed very…different. What he remembered was much more sinister and cruel. This one seemed…also familiar…but different nonetheless.

Out of nowhere, Elliot could hear someone from the front of the building scream “FIRE!”. He could smell it too—more intensely than he had ever before. He rushed back into the building and nearly reached the dining area when something exploded right in front of him. He was flying backwards into a wall. Elliot wasted no time and forced himself to stand and climb over the debris despite starting to bleed in the head. He struggled to breathe as smoke billowed and dust filled his lungs.

Elliot finally made it over the detritus and saw an imagery worse than anything he had ever dreamt of. His co-workers were trying their hardest to help the panicked mass of customers out of the building. The small entrance was only a pair of doors that struggled and strained under the destruction of the building. Fire raged and there were burning holes in the walls—all of them too dangerous to escape from.

Elliot took charge. He directed the robloxians all the building and helped the ones who struggled more than the rest. He hurried everyone else out and stayed behind to aid the people who were stumbling. The entire pizzeria was falling apart before his very eyes as people fell victim to it and laid trapped below the ruin. He had just finished shoving out the last few people that he could find when he saw a child standing in the middle of everyone who had run out the building.

The child stood there gleefully. Familiar. His hands hovered over a black screen rimmed with red that Elliot had seen far too many times before. The kid happily pressed buttons and keys that Elliot couldn’t see on it. Elliot sucked in a breath. No. It couldn’t be. There was no way.

Someone yelled out his name and he snapped back to reality. The danger suddenly seemed so much more real and threatening. Elliot ran for the entrance but then another explosion shook the entire building. He just almost reached the door handles when the entire building caved in. The roof fell on him and he was buried under several tons of ruins and rubble.

The words dimmed. The entire world faded into a sea of black. Before he knew it, it was over.

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A collection of memories.

Memories make up a person.

It’s the memories that define us.

Those were the words that echoed. An empty void sprawled in all directions as it got to its feet.

A simple gray base model stood alone. The entire “world” pressed down on it as if it had a breath of its own.

Suddenly, a rush of memories blasted through its head. They saw the parts of a Robloxian’s life like as if someone had taken a camera and recorded every one of those moments.

There was a birthday party where a small child was sitting on his father’s lap as he joyfully opened presents. Then the memories blurred and refocused on one where the same child was older and cradled a baby girl in his arms as his father watched over nearby. The memories changed again and it saw the same child—now a nervous wreck of a teenager—staring in fear as he watched an older man warp and destroy the area around them in glee with another man—presumably his friend—cheering him on. Another memory popped up where that same man was older and had a young child with him. The man seemed tired and mellowed down while the child happily greeted the teenager that is now an adult—oblivious to the tension between the two adults. That memory passed by too and was replaced by absolute horror. The same building from the last two memories was crumbling before its very eyes and it could see the same man—slightly older but not by much—now bloodied and injured but still rushing to direct people out. It watched as the roof collapsed down and the robloxian was killed.

All the information dug into its brain. It clung in there and buried itself deep. It could feel itself changing. It grew taller and yellow hair sprouted from its head. Its skin turned from the ashy color to the same yellow as the hair and it could feel as clothes found a place on its body—the same ones that the robloxian in the memories wore.

It could see its reflection now: a perfect copy of the robloxian in those memories. Instruction forced their way into its memory and everything became clear.

It would take part in a hell of a world. It was don the face of the robloxian whose name is “Elliot”. Now, it would be its name. It would act just like Elliot: a perfect clone. It would be Elliot.

The reason: entertainment.

It could see that much now. “The Spectre” as they called themself. They are who is feeding these memories and instructions to it. It is obliged to do so. It would do so without question.

Chapter Text

“Heyyyyyyy. You up? Noob, look, he’s up.”

“Chance—shouldn’t you be more careful? I don’t think he’s fully okay yet.”

“Don’t worry too much, Noob. The Spectre wouldn’t drop off someone new just for them to die.”

“You don’t know that…Do you think so?”

“Don’t worry too much about it. I’m sure he will be just fine.”

The yellow robloxian who the gray one addressed as “Noob” opened their mouth to reply. Elliot would never see nor hear what they would say as his vision drifted back to black.

Elliot slowly awakened. His eyes cracked open to a warmth filled cabin. Far above him, two lines of wood—he isn’t sure of what they are called—crossed with a fluorescence light placed perfectly in the center. The wooden roof slanted into a triangle and a sun looking like a cute doodle was imprinted in a way that made it look like it was drawn with chalk. As he tilted his head to the side, he could see that he was lying on a green or black—he settled on dark green with it reminding him of nori sheets—couch with his head resting on a somewhat soft white pillow. 

“Good afternoon!”

“WHA-”

Elliot abruptly sat up while the other robloxian moved back to avoid being hit in the face. He whipped around his head so quickly that he felt like as if it was just going to pop off and fly away. He stared at them in surprise as he fully took in everything. Before him stood someone he had never seen before with a black fedora and suit, sunglasses, headphones, and a confident smirk that reminded him of those people who would do so well to just watch as everything collapsed. Thinking harder, Elliot recognized them as one of the people who was talking earlier—Chance, if he was right.

“...Is that a Drakobloxxer on the fireplace…?”

“That’s what you chose to ask first?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, yes it is a Drakobloxxer. That aside, better? All in one piece? No missing limbs and whatnot?”

“...Yeah…”

“Not pushing him are ya? Remember to be nice.”

Another robloxian strolled into the room with an unopened can of Bloxy Cola in hand. Elliot’s brain took its sweet time processing everything and was taken aback as the gears in his head slowly turned and clicked into place.

“Telamon above—is that Builderman??”

“The one and only.” Builderman replied with a knowing smile, “How ya feeling?”

“Good enough, I guess.” Elliot shrugged.

“Introductions then! I’m Chance. That’s Buildeman—which of course, you already know. What’s your name?”

Thinking further, Elliot had to ask, “You already know it, don’t you?”

At this, Chance grinned cheekily, “Maybe. It’s still nice to follow formalities.”

“Okay…I’m Elliot.”

“Nice to meet ya, Elliot.” Builderman said slightly remorsefully. He handed Elliot the can of soda who looked at it in confusion.

“We don’t have any type of drinkable water here. The only liquid safe for consumption is Bloxy Cola.” Builderman clarified for Elliot.

“Why is that?”

“We have no idea!” Chance answered for Builderman. “That’s just how it is. Now why don’t you drink up, and then we can introduce you to the others.”

Elliot chose not to reply as he had only realized just how thirsty he had become once the drink touched his hands. He popped it open and let the cool, sugary beverage slipped down his throat.

Over the course of about ten minutes, Builderman and Chance filled Elliot in on a heap of information. He had learned some crucial things such as how they were all “forsaken”, stuck in a purgatory of some sort, how the one pulling all the strings went by “The Spectre”, and how Chance is non-binary and goes by he/they but basically everyone uses they/them for Chance.

He also learned that Chance is a major gambler with absolutely insane luck. Throughout the entire conversation, they had flipped their coin while landing heads every single time. Builderman paid the action no mind, and he was, instead, the more responsible person while they talked; he ended up doing most of the explaining with Chance chiming in for certain things. Surprisingly, the former admin—Builderman was against still being called an admin as he saw himself as no longer worthy of the title ever since being forsaken—was very normal. He had none of the swag or overbearing arrogance some higher ups would have. If anything, Builderman seemed to just be someone who happened to be very smart but ordinary and tired at the same time.

Elliot sat with his legs crossed on the couch while still clutching the can of Bloxy Cola—most of its content gone—as he tried to process all the information that had been loaded into a gun and blasted straight at him. Thankfully, it was all just information and not an actual bullet from Chance’s flintlock which they had happily shown to Elliot.

“Anyways, that’s basically it! Don’t think there’s anything more for us to explain anyways. The only thing now is for you to meet everyone else unless you want to talk about something else—if there even is anything else.” Chance finished off.

Elliot blinked once. Then, he blinked twice.

“Wait. What? I-I don’t get it. You’re saying that we have to go and basically play a game with some extremely murderous killers every day and that we just end up getting stuck in an endless loop of dying and coming back? Is that it? Are we just stuck here now?”

“Essentially, yes.” Builderman continued with a face of deep regret painted on, “Ya can sit out sometimes, but no one is allowed to stay out for more than a few days in a row. Ya get forced to play this twisted game again—sooner or later.”

Elliot looked down: shaking slightly. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. To be stuck in an eternal circle of suffering and to never be able to return to his loved ones—even if they were never actually its to start with. Surely it all had to be some type of horrendously cruel jest. It just had to be. If it weren’t…

“Elliot.” Builderman said softly as he lowered himself to be at the other robloxian’s level, “Breathe.”

Chance set a hand on Elliot’s shoulder in reassurance and said as encouragingly as possible, “Don’t stress it too much. We’ll all do our best to protect you. That’s our thing. No one gets left behind.”

“Now why don’t you come and meet everyone else? They’ll absolutely love you”.

Elliot threw the rest of the chilled soda down his throat and crumpled the can. He perfectly tossed it into the bin in the corner and got up. Elliot took a deep breath.

“Lead the way.”

“Gotcha.”

Over the course of the rest of the day, Elliot was introduced to all of the other survivors.

There is Guest 1337 who everyone simply called Guest. He is—obviously—a guest; the last of his people according to everyone else. Elliot was taken aback upon seeing the older robloxian. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a Guest. The robloxian’s skin is pale while his hair is navy blue—including his not so prominent but still obviously there facial hair on his chin. He donned an army uniform and the look of someone who had seen it all and could no longer be surprised. Elliot was slightly intimidated by him but quickly warmed up upon realizing just how kind of a soul Guest 1337 is.

Then there is Noob—the yellow skinned robloxian that Chance was talking with before. Elliot couldn’t help but mentally question why they went by “Noob” of all things. He wisely chose to keep the question to himself. He also learned immediately—like with Chance—that Noob is genderfluid and preferred to use they/them which he would comply to with no problems whatsoever. They were dressed in the same comfy looking blue hoodie and green shorts as before. Elliot couldn’t help but think that he had already seen Noob multiple times before although he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. The poor robloxian was so nervous that they started chugging down cans of Bloxy Cola after “messing up” their introduction and hit themself on the head lightly. Builderman just shook his head when Elliot glanced over at him in mild confusion.

Moving on from the other two is Two Time—a name most particular with an also particular owner. They have spikey and slightly unkept black hair while wearing black fingerless gloves, a black turtleneck just like Elliot’s but without the sleeves, and gray pants. If Mia had been there, she probably would have called them emo or something of the sort. The only spots of color on their achromatic outfit is the spawn symbol printed onto their shirt and the neutral blue of the jacket with a white pattern outlining that they wore on top. They are, like Chance, non-binary. However, unlike Chance who held a welcoming look on their face at all times, Two Time made Elliot uneasy with their uncanny way of always smiling. He didn’t want to judge, but he also couldn't help the discomfort. They kept mentioning the Spawn and Elliot eventually realized that they were a cultist. He tried to control his face upon noticing, but he was pretty sure that all the other survivors had seen it change.

Finally, Elliot was introduced to Shedletsky who he recognized as one of the top admins despite never having seen the fabled robloxian. Shedletsky, like Two Time, is very particular although for a different reason. While Two Time’s way of carrying themself made them odd, it was Shedletsky’s outfit that caught Elliot’s eye. The former admin—he also, like Builderman, did not want to still be called an admin—is dressed in one of the most outrageous outfits that Elliot had ever seen someone wear so proudly. He wore a white t-shirt with the words “BLAME JOHN” and “Remember that time when I totally pwned you on SFOTH?” printed on it with shorts. However, it wasn’t just normal shorts. The Shedletsky who had people looking up to him has on bright blue, striped swimming trunks complete with cuffs and drawstrings. Admittedly, Elliot was just over-exaggerating,  and it wasn’t the worst outfit he had ever seen, but it was definitely a bad one. As if it needed to be more outrageous, Shedletsky had no shoes on! His outfit consisted entirely of the shirt and shorts! He also had a pair of brown and yellow feathered wings poking out of the side of his head that somewhat reminded Elliot of chicken—he is going to blame the chicken leg in Shedletsky’s hand. Elliot could hear Chance stifling a laugh behind him when he had laid eyes on Shedletsky’s choice of clothing.

After Elliot got to know a bit more about everyone else, Chance dragged him away to tour the rest of the cabin while Builderman stayed behind with the others. Turned out, the cabin didn’t really have all that much in it. While it is relatively spacious, Elliot quickly learned that it was more of a place to hang out rather than somewhere to live. It had absolutely no bedrooms and for some reason, only one singular bathroom. Most of the room outside of that and the kitchen—which Elliot would definitely be checking out later—was taken up by the living room, the odd sitting area in the back, and the spot upstairs where it was just filled with random clutter. A pool table was placed crookedly, a game of Jenga was already set up and abandoned, and a television with a video of a baby panda played for whatever reason. There was even more stuff just hanging on the wall with nothing correlating to each other. It felt oddly heartwarming with the chaos and all.

Afterwards, Chance led the way outside of the cabin to where Elliot found out where all the survivors would sleep. They pointed out a brand new cabin near the water which they both guessed to be Elliot’s. Elliot left Chance to go and check out his new living quarter.

Inside is nothing much. A basic twin bed, carpet, closet, and a wooden table and chair is all that takes up the space inside. The second room in it is just a tiny bathroom with the necessities. He ignored it and removed his visor and jacket: dropping the items onto the table. He kicked off his shoes near the door and crashed onto the bed without bothering to even change—assuming there were any clothes in the closet that he was too tired to open and look inside. Elliot fell asleep into a deep slumber in no time.

“Good morning!”

“THE ####—”

Elliot shot up and Chance, who had learned their lesson already, backed away.

“Do you always wake up people like that??” Elliot asked while rubbing the remaining sleepiness out of his eyes.

“Maybe.” Chance replied, saying the word with enjoyment.

“No wasting time now. A round starts in an hour and newbies never get to sit out. You better get ready unless you want a bad situation to turn worse.”

“Got it. I got it.”

Elliot slid out of bed and onto the ground like a ragdoll. He was about to shoo away Chance so that he could prepare himself when he thought of something.

“Chance…Just how did you get in here?”

“You forgot to close the door.”

“...Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Elliot sighed. “Goodbye to you. Let me go and get ready.”

The other robloxian complied and left Elliot alone. He went off into the bathroom and freshened up. Less than ten minutes later—he had decided to skip a shower out of lack of energy—Elliot was looking in the closet at several copies of his typical work outfit. Every single thing in the closet was the exact same: the same visor, shirt, pants, and jacket—down to the last stitch. He questioned it, brushed it off, and changed into a fresh pair of clothes. In no time, he was all set to go.

This round’s killer is…

Slasher

Elliot spawned into a giant outdoor area. He looked around: perplexed. The other survivors had given him a quick run through, but it was still bewildering to actually see the truth behind their words—the “You’ll figure it out when you end up in there in a bit. Probably.” was not in any way helpful. Luckily for Elliot, he turned and saw one of the other survivors: Guest 1337.

“Guest! Hello.” Elliot said, walking up to him.

“Hello, Elliot. Need help?”

“Yes, actually.” Elliot pulled out a screen showing a health and stamina bar with two circles next to it with names underneath. “What are these?”

“Cruelity.” Guest 1337 answered, short and simple, “This literally becomes a game. The stamina bar restricts how long we’re allowed to run, and the health bar forces us to put up with this suffering for even longer. Although having actual limits to those can be helpful at times, if anything, they’re just there to make us bear more pain. The two circles next to it are your ‘abilities’ with cooldowns and depending on the person, they may have requirements or limits. It is all following a format of a game so I assume that you can guess what that means?”

Elliot felt sick in his stomach. “Is it actually this…? How does it even work!? Does it just force you to stop running or for you to continue surviving even when bleeding out a flood!?”

“Unfortunately, it does. I’m not sure how to explain, but I guess, in a way, it’s one of those things that you don’t fully understand until experiencing it. For the stamina, don’t let it drop to 0 or else it’ll take longer to regenerate.” Guest 1337 gestured at the abilities, “Hover your hand over those and it’ll show how it works.”

Elliot shakily did as he was told and they read the ability descriptions together.

“So…does that mean that I can just pull pizza slices out of nowhere and throw it to you guys to heal you? And I have to do that to run faster?”

“I guess so.” Guest contemplated it again, “I’m assuming that there’s some way for the pizza to heal without directly consuming it since the alternative would be highly inconvenient, but we can’t rule out pure torture trying to get healed. Can’t say much on the “Rush Hour” thing though. Sounds rather straightforward.”

“What would happen if we were to not follow these rules?” Elliot asked.

Guest 1337 shook his head. “It’s not possible. Trust me. I’m not sure how it is for everyone else, but for me, it’s like something is physically restraining me. I can’t force my arms to move for a block when something like that happens or charge forward whenever I feel the need to. Being in these rounds forces you to play along these restrictions. There’s also another screen that will appear if you want it to. It shows everyone’s remaining health and whether they’re alive or dead.”

“...”

“I know it’s a lot, but it’s now your new reality. You have to also adapt to it like the rest of us.”

“You’re right…Can you teach me how to do those generators then?” Elliot points to one on the side.

“Got it.”

The pair walked over and Guest 1337 showed Elliot how the generators worked. They quickly finished the machine with no issues.

“Good job. You’re much better than me at this.” Guest 1337 said, patting Elliot on the head, “Sorry. Force of habit.”

Elliot let out a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.”

They were about to go and find the other survivors when a man in slightly tattered and worn out clothes with a crude hockey mask appeared from behind Guest 1337 and ambushed him with a machete. Elliot could see as Guest 1337 was highlighted, and his health plummeted greatly. Elliot panicked and used one of his abilities: throwing a pizza straight at The Guest. He didn’t take the time to aim properly, and even though it hit Guest 1337’s back, the healing still registered and the pizza disappeared with not even a grease stain being left behind. The soldier yelled at Elliot to run away as he blocked the next slash from the striking figure with his bare arms put together and Elliot obeyed in fear as he used Rush Hour to speed away.

Elliot panted and tried to suck in deep breaths. His heart wouldn’t stabilize and terror raced through his mind. Guilt crept in and he couldn’t help but think about Guest 1337 who he had left behind. Elliot trembled as he made the survivor screen pop up, and he saw that Guest 1337 was already dead while Noob was low on health. He wanted to run and help the other person, but his legs refused to work (and he was stuck on cooldown but he didn’t realize in the shock of it all).

Elliot curled into a ball and sat in fear. He couldn’t take it: watching someone die right in front of him. The timer ticked by and the killer snuck up on Elliot. He didn’t fight as he was slashed to pieces; he just accepted his fate. The world faded to darkness like that tragic day.

Chapter Text

He sucked in a shaky breath. Then, it became two. Slowly, it multiplied.

Elliot curled inwards: hands clenched in tight fists, forehead against his knees, and eyes closed. He could so vividly still see the scene behind the shut eyelids and smell the blood. The blood. It was sickening. Never before had he seen something so…

Elliot sat on the cold, hard wood of the cabin. Tears pricked his eyes. He had no idea how much time had passed as he stayed trembling while glued to the floor. It didn’t matter. He had seen someone dying: someone that he could have saved—someone that he should have saved.

“Elliot.”

A tenacious hand clasped his shoulder: oddly familiar and unfamiliar at the same time yet comforting. The voice matched the warmth of the gesture but not of its firmness. Instead, it was tender—friendly even. Despite this, Elliot couldn’t let himself look up. 

“Elliot.” The voice said again.

This time, Elliot recognized the voice. It belonged to Guest 1337.

Elliot froze: breathing harsh, hurried breaths. Of all people, it was Guest 1337.

Guest 1337’s hand moved off of his shoulder. He could hear the slight shuffle of clothes as the older robloxian—he presumed—sat down next to him. 

“It’s not your fault.”

Elliot didn’t reply.

“I’m serious.” Guest 1337 continued, “Don’t blame yourself.”

Elliot didn’t look up as his voice wobbled, “H-how can you say that?! You died protecting me! I’m the healer, and you still died!”

Guest 1337 ruffled a hand through Elliot’s hair before replying.

“There was nothing else that you could have done. This…system…it forces us into certain situations—backs us into a wall. Sooner or later, I would have wounded up dead. Your pizza allowed me to survive longer; that counts for something—much more than just something. Besides, in the end, we all end up back here. There’s no need to hurt for something that’s not your fault, Elliot.”

“B-but—”

“No more buts. I know it's…difficult…but it always ends up like this…”

Elliot emerged his head—sick to the stomach—and faced the soldier.

“You…you’re talking like you know what you’re talking about…like you know the feeling…”

“You experience a lot of things in a war…I’ve…made my peace with it…” Guest 1337 said meekly. 

Elliot could hear the lie, but he kept it to himself—no reason to comment.

“If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“Thanks…I…I’ll just go to my cabin…”

Guest 1337 patted Elliot on the head and watched as the robloxian stumbled to his feet. Elliot timidly waved goodbye and walked away. Thankfully for him, he met no one on the way to his cabin; everyone else was still in the round.

Inside his cabin, Elliot slammed the door shut and collapsed on his bed. He never expected something so…it didn’t think that they would go this far.

He swallowed hard and threw his pillow over his head to muffle any noise there might be. At some point, Elliot drifted to sleep once again.

Elliot woke up to a perfectly ordinary day. It was like the usual with the sun shining in through a window and him on the ground after rolling off the bed again. Soon enough, he’d be driving back to the pizzeria and spend most of the day working his butt off. Elliot almost brushed off the events of the day as nothing but an especially bad nightmare when he then processed the wooden walls of the room and different layout. He snapped out of it and untangled the blanket from his legs. He plopped it onto the bed and got up. It was real. What had happened was real.

Elliot wasn’t fine. He wasn’t going to pretend he was. However, there was no going around the twisted reality he was trapped in. There were no loopholes and no way out—he had already been told all about that. Elliot refused to let that keep him down. He wanted to—needed to—help everyone else. He couldn’t just stay around as nothing but a burden.

With newfound determination, Elliot forced himself to get ready. He put on the same outfit as always and headed out: ready to face the challenges ahead.

Over a week had passed. Elliot had already grown to accept the pain. He didn’t like it nor was he able to act as if it was nothing but he quickly learned: the more he struggled, the worse it was. In the short time, Elliot had practically perfected his aim and learned the map layouts. True, he did sometimes miss by a bit—or a lot—and he did sometimes get lost, but he was improving.

Elliot didn’t want to admit it, but he was gradually adapting to purgatory. It all became a cycle, and he faced it heads on. Not once has he sat out: set on getting better.

The round was the same as always with John Doe as the killer this time. Elliot had just barely escaped the grasp of the corrupted robloxian—he still had no idea why the killer was like that and neither of the former admins were up for sharing—after a flawless backstab from Two Time. They had won the round: Elliot’s first victory.

The survivors all left the round cheerful. Apparently, winning against the killers was practically unheard of. The amount of times they had won could be counted on one hand—a pitiful amount. The other survivors all gathered around Elliot as they congratulated him on the saves he managed with his healing pizza. Everyone happily joined in and Elliot, filled with euphoria, couldn’t stop smiling.

Eventually, one by one, everyone dispersed. The other survivors all went back to their cabin to rest up while Elliot stayed behind—still joyful. He couldn’t remember the last time he was quite so happy. After a bit of time passed, the drowsiness caught up to Elliot too. He yawned and exited the main cabin. He forgot to lock the door again but it was whatever—none of the other survivors ever bothered to lock it either.

Elliot strolled out to pure quietude. He had gotten used to it. There were never bugs or anything similar of the sort in this hell. Every time, it was always the same: silence. At first, he was unnerved by it, but like everything else, he had gotten used to it.

Elliot had taken a few paces when he realized that something was different. Something was wrong. Standing confused, only a miniscule amount of steps away from him, was someone he recognized—someone that he didn’t want to recognize.

WHAT TH-

“YOU! Why the #### are you here!?”

The new robloxian turned so fast that he nearly fell over. Elliot surged forward: pissed.

“Why are you of all people here?! Why the ####?!”

“E-Elliot—”

The man struggled as Elliot grabbed hold of his stupid (in the words of the seething mad pizza boy) blue shirt. It was evident that he didn’t want to fight—hell he didn’t even want to be there. None of that mattered to Elliot.

“Don’t make me ####### repeat myself you ####### #######! Why the #### are you everywhere I go?!”

“I—”

“Elliot, that’s far enough.”

A steady pair of hands—Two Time’s—grabbed Elliot’s and pulled them off the other robloxian. The freed man trembled—frightened. He opened his mouth but no words came out. Meanwhile, Elliot was still angry. He looked as though he could kill at the very moment.

“How come you’re not asleep?” Elliot directed the question with a sharp edge to Two Time who was keeping him from attacking the other man. Despite this, the cultist wasn’t bothered. Their face remained the same as always.

Two Time replied without the slightest change in expression, “The Spawn has hinted to me that I might be needed to smooth out a problem.”

“Besides,” they added, “You’re rather loud with the shouting.”

“What…?”

In Elliot’s momentary confusion, Two Time steered him in the direction of his cabin and started dragging him away. They nodded at the new survivor in the direction of the main cabin.

“What— Two Time!” Elliot tried to break free, but the cultist had a surprisingly strong grip. He gave up and let himself get pulled away.

“007n7! I swear I’m going to get you tomorrow! Don’t you go ####### thinking I’m letting you do this again!”