Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

007n7 used to be a dangerous hacker.

Maybe even an enemy. He was a legend, a man who burned and destroyed for his own amusement and entertainment. 

A Hacker who defied everything and paid the price.

But now…

He was Tired, Bone-deep Tired.

Every breath felt like a burden. His muscles were worn and aching, protesting even the smallest movement… Each step felt heavier than the last.

His head spun whenever he tried to rise from bed. On the nights he even bothered to sleep, he would just lie there, staring into the dark. Hours passed with no real rest. His thoughts never stopped turning.

When was the last time his body took a break? An actual break from all the chaos that seemed to fold over and over again. When had his heart stopped taking care of itself…?

The endless rounds pushed him closer and closer to the edge. Each mistake earned another lecture. Another outburst. Another reminder of how far he had fallen…

His face told the story better than words. Fatigue pulled at his features as guilt clung to him like a shadow, and sadness carved lines where joy had once been.

The loss of his son, C00lkidd, still haunted him. Even if his son is alive in this purgatory that the Spectre had made for their amusement. It was a wound that refused to close. His guilt had overwritten that fact. He had to endure... He had to survive…

Yet, solitude never brought peace.

The presence of the other survivors only reminded him of what he had lost (and what he might still lose). They moved closer, and he stepped back. When he moved closer, they stepped away.

It was a quiet dance of closeness and rejection. A rhythm only he seemed to understand… Or maybe only He believed He understood…

It was another round at the C00l Carnival.

007n7 spawned on the right side of the entrance, just beneath the doorway, as he paused only for a second. The night air was cold against his skin, before moving forward, walking towards the attractions to find a nearby generator as his eyes scanned the abandoned carnival grounds. Searching for anything useful, a faint hum of a nearby generator pulled him towards it.

As he worked, his mind wandered (like it always did) back to his Son.

Back to C00lkidd.

This place held too many memories; every corner of the carnival seemed to echo with the laughter of a life he once had. Weekends spent here with his son, the glow of carnival lights painting their faces. The smell of popcorn and cheap candy drifts through the air.

He tried to focus on the generator, but the past pulled him in.

A flicker of the light caught his attention; he turned.

The next thing he knew, he was walking through a quiet, dimly lit room bathed in blue. A birthday cake sat waiting on a table like it always had. Its candles are frozen in time. Pictures line the walls, images of him and his son in every one, as if a birthday was spent here in this very carnival.

007n7 stopped in front of one photo. C00lkidd was smaller then, being tied up by a balloon and floating to the skies, while 007n7 himself was seen as someone worried about their child’s safety. It felt like a lifetime ago.

He barely had time to breathe before the moment shattered.

Footsteps echoed behind him. Heavy. Fast.

He turned—and there he was.

C00lkidd.

The child was no longer the pill baby he once held in his arms, the child that he spent stolen money on from his early days as a parent, the child whom he shared his happiness with and the life of living with, the child he swore he’d protect and cherish until his dying days…

His Son.

But not the son he remembered. The red boy was taller than him, yet skinny, likely from being malnourished, making it more grotesque and probably a hallucination to make the victim’s eyes see C00lkidd as someone you have to run from.

“Dad, there you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” 

C00lkidd’s movement was sharp and fast as he used his Walkspeed Override. The Spectre had clearly exploited his young mind, manipulating the child into believing his kills were all part of a game… A game of tag. 

“Daaaaaaaaad, no fair!”

007n7 was still too busy thinking as he dodged his son’s attack. He didn’t understand that every swing, every lunge, was ending lives.

So, like the survivalist he is, 007n7 ran.

“Ready or not, here I come!”

The chase began.

Breathe in… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven… until your lungs ache from the weight pressing against them.

Breathe out… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven… until the air leaves you heavy with sorrow.

007n7 stumbled through the carnival grounds, his body heavy and slugging. His health was low—too low for his liking. One or two more hits, and it would all be over.

He darted towards the Ferris wheel, the towering red metal structure creaking in the wind. The bright, rusted red cars hung motionless above him like the eyes of a silent crowd.

He circled the area, trying to juke his son, trying to buy himself and the other survivors just a few more seconds.

Then the flashbang went off.

Light and sound cracked through the air as Taph’s Subspace Tripmine blinded C00lkidd, inflicting him with Helpless I and Subspaced III, redirecting his son’s vision as he clutched his face.

007n7 didn’t waste the moment. He ran.

He didn’t stop until he found what looked like a safe spot, a shadowy corner of the carnival grounds, far from the laughter that once filled this place. His hands shook as he pulled up his C00lgui, scanning the list of survivors.

Elliot. Shedletsky. Builderman. All three of them were on the verge of dying; hopefully, Elliot might be able to heal them if he could hold out long enough.

Taph and Dusekkar were still standing.

But… Noob and Two Time… were unfortunate enough.

007n7 let out a slow, tired sigh, then the footsteps returned.

He barely had time to react before C00lkidd was on him again, moving faster this time—unnaturally fast, as his son hit him like a storm. Walkspeed Override. Has it already been 20 seconds???

“Gotcha, Dad!”

007n7 tried to run, but his son’s arms closed around him before he could take a single step.

It wasn’t a strike. It was a Hug.

“I finally got your attention!” C00lkidd laughed as he hugged his father in a crushing embrace. “I hope this doesn’t hurt too much.”

The words sank like stones in 007n7’s chest. Because his son still thought it was all a game.

The pain came in waves.

The flames licked at his body, wrapping him in their merciless embrace. 007n7 staggered, his silent screams swallowed by the roaring heat. Somewhere through the haze, he heard his son’s voice—soft, almost fragile.

“If only people saw you for who you truly are… Father…”

The words struck deeper than the fire ever could. Wait, does he know…?

Through the agony, memories came flooding back. The times he had failed his group. Times when his mistakes cost survivors their lives. The accusing stares. The whispered curses. 

Useless. Hacker. Exploiter.

They never said it out loud, not always, but he could see it in their eyes. He was an outcast who couldn’t be trusted. The one they blamed when things went wrong.

He missed the old days. Back when life was simple. Back when he didn’t have to carry the weight of survival on his shoulders. When he was just a father spending time with his son. 

No Guilt. No Fire. No Blood.

Just laughter, lights, and the smell of a nicely cooked dinner at home.

He wanted that life back so badly it ached in his chest.

Then the flames surged again, swallowing him whole.

Through the pain, he felt arms around him—warm, gentle, trembling. C00lkidd held him as if afraid that he would vanish if he let go. His son’s voice was softer this time, heavy with sorrow.

“I’m sorry it has to end this way… Father… Maybe in another life…”

The guilt crushed him harder than the fire. 

With what strength he had left, 007n7 wrapped his arms around his son. For a moment, the pain faded beneath the weight of that embrace.

His vision blurred, the world dimmed as he thought about his life—about the opportunities and chances he wasted, the mistakes that chained him here. 

If only he could go back. Back to when he was young. 

Back before the Failures. Before the Hacking. Before the Pain.

He would do it differently this time. He would be better.

He would be the father C00lkidd deserved.

His body crumpled against the Cold, hard ground. Breath shallow as he fought the urge to stay alive for just a bit longer than necessary. His body is burnt beyond recognition as his eyes flicker open one last time to meet his son’s face. A faint, sweet smile formed on his lips—I miss you too, My Son…

As his vision darkened, his gaze drifted to the side.

A single yellow daffodil bloomed from between the lines of two-edged stones. Fragile. Bright. Out of place in this ruined purgatory.

How did it get here…?

He didn’t know.

Closing his eyes, 007n7 offered a prayer to whatever power might still be listening, to anyone but the Spectre.

Please. Just this once… let me rewrite my fate…

And his vision faded into the darkness that consumed him.

Chapter Text

Daffodils.

They swayed gently in the breeze, their yellow petals glowing in the sunlight like drops of gold scattered across the field. Symbols of renewal, of hope, of new beginnings… 

They were the first to bloom after winter’s grasp, fragile yet defiant, a promise that life could start again…

Purity. Innocence. Faith. Tranquility…

Hope.

“…”

It felt soft—too soft.

007n7 stirred in his sleep, sinking deeper into the warmth beneath him, wanting to stay in that strange, comforting embrace. But as his limbs shifted, the softness gave way to something uneven… rough in places.

Spiky.

His eyes cracked open. 

Grass.

He shot up with a gasp, heart pounding as air tore through his lungs. The surrounding clearing spun in a blur of green and a variety of different colors as he stumbled to his feet, wide-eyed, his breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts.

“What… where…?” His voice caught in his throat.

His gaze darted in every direction. Endless grass. Various flowers nodding silently in the wind. The faint chirp of birds (he thinks those are sparrows) overhead.

No survivors.

No killers.

No Spectre.

‘Where is this place? Where are the others? What happened…?’ 

007n7 thought as he pushed through the clearing, scanning desperately, as if the other survivors might appear if he searched hard enough. Every step only made the silence louder.

It felt peaceful—too peaceful.

As 007n7 wandered around aimlessly, not knowing where to go and what to do, he saw it—a pond.

Its surface was perfectly still, reflecting the clear blue sky like glass as 007n7 approached slowly, each footstep crunching against the earth until he was close enough to see himself in the water.

And froze.

The face staring back at him wasn’t the one he knew.

Younger. Sharper. Eyes clearer with light and innocence. Skin unmarked by fatigue and adulthood. He leaned closer, breath shallow, almost afraid the image might vanish…

“Huh…?”

He reached out, fingers trembling, touching his cheek as the reflection mimicked him perfectly. He pinched the skin, hard.

“?!-” 

Pain shot through him.

It was real. This is real.

HE was real…

“But… how…?”

The sting in his cheek lingered as 007n7 stared into the pond, the ripples warping his reflection…

Younger. Stronger. Not the broken man he had become

He stumbled back, heart hammering as his mind raced through fragments of memories (He could only remember how his son had held him in such an embrace that was meant for a child longing for their parent). The plea he had whispered to no one but the darkness itself.

Please. Just this once… let me rewrite my fate…

He remembered saying it. But that was before the pain, before the flames had swallowed him whole.

007n7 turned from the pond, scanning the horizon as he had a thought.

Everything felt… wrong…

There were no remnants of the cabins, no ruined buildings of the places the Spectre had used for their entertainment, no killers running amok, finding a way to end off survivors' lives. 

The world here felt alive—too alive.

The flowers beneath him swayed gently, as if mocking his confusion.

“This… this isn’t right,” he whispered as his voice shook with worry and confusion.

His hands clenched at his sides, thinking, was this a dream? Did the Spectre do this? Some cruel afterlife???

Or…

No.

His eyes widened as the thought crept in like a shadow.

What if it wasn’t death at all?

What if… he had been sent back?

The pieces clicked slowly, like the gears of the generator he used to know grinded together. 007n7 looked at the pond to see his reflection again, the younger face in the pond reflecting to him. The untainted air. The quiet. 

This wasn’t the world he knew—the endless rounds, the agony, the times he had failed his group. Times when his mistakes cost survivors their lives. The accusing stares. The whispered curses.

This felt like before.

Before everything fell apart.

“En-Seven!”

The voice cut through the quiet like a lightning strike.

007n7 froze.

No… it couldn’t be… That voice was long gone and buried in a time he could never reach again.

Slowly, he turned.

There, standing at the edge of the clearing, was 007e7.

Whole. Alive. Smiling like the world hadn’t forsaken them yet.

For a moment, 007n7 just stood there, wide-eyed, his breath caught in his throat as he saw his cousin. He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. His mind screamed that this couldn’t be real, that this really had to be a dream, some cruel illusion sent to torture him.

But the sunlight that spilled across 007e7’s face, warm and golden, too vivid to be fake…

“No… this… can’t be…” 007n7’s voice cracked as he stumbled forward, shaking.

Then, before he even knew what he was doing, his young body had wrapped his arms around 007e7 and held on as if letting go would send the boy back to the grave—back to that damn purgatory.

“Hey—whoa!? En-Seven??” 007e7’s words came out startled, stumbling back a bit from the unexpected hug from 007n7. “I only went away for a few hours. Did something happen?”

But 007n7 didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His chest shook with silent sobs, his face buried as the tears finally spilled over. The weight of loss, of guilt, of years spent hating himself—all of it crashed down on him at once.

He held 007e7 tighter, as though clinging to life itself.

Confused, 007e7 hesitated… then slowly returned the hug, patting 007n7 awkwardly on the back.

“Uh… okay,” 007e7 said, voice soft with uncertainty. “I… I don’t know what’s going on, but… your parents were looking for you, you know?”

Those words hit him like a second lightning bolt.

Parents.

Alive.

Looking for Him.

This was real. This was before.

And for the first time in forever, 007n7 didn’t feel like a broken man standing at the end of the world…

He cried harder, the sound muffled against 007e7’s shirt as his arms tightened around him. It wasn’t just relief—it was longing.

Years' worth of pain spilling out in a single desperate embrace. He wanted to keep this moment. To never let go. 

“Wha—hey! En, don’t cry on my shirt!” 007e7 protested, voice half-annoyed, half-concerned, as he tried to push him back.

But 007n7 wouldn’t budge. In fact, he only hugged his cousin tighter, arms trembling as if afraid he’d disappear into thin air…

“I’m gonna go ahead and tell them that you were here, alright?” 007e7 said finally, voice softening when he realized how badly 007n7 was shaking. He tried to pull away, to stand, but 007n7 held on tighter, refusing to let go.

He couldn’t. Not yet.

A sickening wave of hope and dread churned in his chest.

Because if this were real, if he had really been sent back to the time before everything fell apart. Then seeing his family alive again meant that there was still time to change it all.

Time to make things right.

Time to save them.

But beneath the spark of hope was the shadow of fear.

What if this was just another cruel trick that the Spectre had made? What if he failed again?

What if everything was all just a lie to keep his guard down? So that the killers within the vicinity could end him?

What if his son—his real son—was still stuck in that place? That purgatory?

007n7 clenched his eyes shut, gripping his cousin like a man holding back the tide of an ocean.

He didn’t know the answers.

Not yet.

But soon, he would.

After what felt like only a few minutes to 007e7 (but an eternity to 007n7), he finally loosened his grip on his cousin. His arms fell back to his sides slowly, almost reluctantly, as if every second he held on was another second of borrowed time.

007n7 wiped at his tear-streaked face with his sleeve, forcing a small, cheerful smile onto his lips. It was the kind of smile meant to reassure, to say ‘I’m fine! Really,’ even when everything inside him was a storm.

“Sorry about that, Ē-Seven!” 007n7 said quickly, his voice thick from crying, but laced with forced lightness. “Guess I… I just got a little lost. Haven’t seen you in a while, and—” He let out a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I didn’t realize how much I missed you, huh?”

007e7 paused, brow furrowing slightly as he studied him. There was something different about 007n7 (something in his eyes, the weight in his voice), but after a moment, 007e7 shrugged it off…

Perhaps 007n7 had simply been terrified and lost. Perhaps he hadn’t realized how much he had missed him…

“Don’t run off again, alright?” 007e7 said firmly, though his tone softened at the end. “Your mother and father have been worried sick about you. I’ll go tell them you’re safe.”

007n7 nodded quickly, offering that same practiced smile again. “Yeah, I won’t! Promise.”

With one last glance, 007e7 turned and started back toward the path, muttering something about “Parents freaking out…” as his figure became smaller from the meadow.

And then… 007n7 was alone.

Alone with his thoughts. Alone with the truth gnawing at the edges of his mind…

He really had been sent back.

This was his opportunity. His second life. His shot at rewriting everything before it all fell apart.

A sickening wave of hope and dread churned in his chest.

“If this is real… if I’m really back…” He swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “Then maybe… Maybe I can fix it. I can fix everything.”

The breeze carried his words away, leaving only the soft rustle of the flowers and grass beneath him as he looked at his hands and then at his surroundings.

But, for the first time in so long… 007n7 felt something he thought he had lost forever.

A chance. And this time… he wasn’t going to waste it.

Chapter Text

007e7 led the way, glancing back now and then as 007n7 followed behind him. The meadow stretched endlessly around them, painted in colors of spring. 

Bright yellows, soft blues, and gentle whites swaying in the breeze.

As they walked, 007n7 slowed his steps, taking in everything. The scent of flowers, the warm sunlight on his face, the faint fluttering of butterflies.

It all felt so calm, so peaceful, like the world had stopped rushing for once.

But his thoughts wouldn’t stay quiet. ‘What about the others…?’ He wondered. ‘Did they… did they go back too…?’ He needed to know. He had to see it for himself.

He looked down at his small hands, then remembered his reflection in the pond they passed by earlier. He looked so young, so different.

‘What year is it?’ He thought, his chest tightening. ‘If I’m this small… just how far back did I go?’

The question lingered, heavy and unanswered, as they walked through the flowers toward home.

But then, halfway through the path, 007n7 stopped walking.

His steps faltered as the thoughts his him all at once.

‘What if they still hate me?’ The idea made his chest tighten as he started spiraling in his head. ‘What if they don’t want to see me? What if the admins see me and lock me away? To the Badlands? Or take me away from my family? From C00lkidd…?’

‘What if they don’t even know me? What am I supposed to say…?’

‘What am I supposed to do…?’

He stood there frozen among the wildflowers, his mind spinning. All that warmth he felt just moments ago now felt like it was slipping through his fingers, leaving behind a creeping sense of dread.

“... What if they get rid of me?...”

Up ahead, 007e7 realized he was walking alone. He turned, puzzled at first, but the moment he saw 007n7’s distant expression, worry spread across his face.

“En-Seven?” 007e7 called softly, walking back toward him. “Hey… are you okay?”

007n7 didn’t answer right away. His thoughts were too loud, too heavy.

He couldn’t hear—couldn’t breathe.

“Sev…?” *007e7 asked again, a little firmer this time, as he gently shook 007n7’s shoulder. “Hey, be with me. What’s wrong?”

The voice broke through the fog in 007n7’s mind, jolting and snapping him back to the present.

He blinked, then forced a small, shaky smile. “I’m fine, sorry to make you worry.” He lied quietly, trying to sound casual. “Just… got lost in my thoughts, that’s all! You don’t have to worry about me!”

But even as he said it, he could tell 007e7 wasn’t convinced.

007n7 took a deep breath, forcing the turmoil back into the corners of his mind. He looked up at 007e7 with a small, soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

007e7 studies him carefully. There was something in the way 007n7 spoke—too calm, too practiced—that didn’t sit right…

“... If you say so,” 007e7 replied slowly, but his eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. He could tell there was more to this than 007n7 was letting on.

For a moment, he thought about asking. About demanding answers. But then he stopped himself.

If 007n7 wanted to tell him, he would. Forcing it out of him wouldn’t help. He sighed.

“Alright… let’s go.” 007e7 finally said, his voice quieter this time as he took 007n7’s hand and started leading him back to his house. Letting the matter drop again.

007n7 followed in silence, his mind already racing with memories of the future he was determined to change.

Guilt does not wash away easily. It clings to the heart like wet ash, seeping into every thought, every quiet moment of reflection. No rainstorm of apologies, no flood of tears can cleanse it completely. 

And 007n7 knew this. He had carried the weight of his failures for so long that it had become a part of him—like a shadow that never left.

When 007n7 finally reached the small, familiar house (he had forgotten that he used to live here…), his steps grew heavier with every moment. He hadn’t seen it in so long, yet it felt exactly as he remembered—warm lights spilling out through the windows, the faint smell of something cooking in the afternoon air.

The door opened before he even had the chance to knock. His parents stood there, relief and worry etched on their faces.

“Where have you been?” his mother started, her voice sharp with fear disguised as anger. “Do you have any idea how worried we were—”

But the words never fully left her mouth.

Before she could finish, 007n7 lunged forward, wrapping both of his parents in a tight embrace as he threw his small body into their arms. His parents hesitated a bit before hugging their son back, holding him close like they never wanted to let go…

“You’re safe, my sweet child. We’re here for you…” His mother whispered, relief flooding her tone, and her concerns melted into ease.

“Thank goodness you’re home!” his father added, his hand ruffling 007n7’s hair in that familiar way he thought he would never feel again.

007n7 laughed through the tears that blurred his vision. “Daaaaad! Don’t do that!” It wasn’t the laughter of someone telling a joke, but the kind that came from a heart too full, a sound caught between joy and disbelief. 

He was home.

Nearby, 007e7 stood quietly, watching the scene with a small smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. This moment belonged to 007n7 and his parents.

For the first time in so long, 007n7 felt like a child again…

The smell of warm food filled the little kitchen, wrapping the house in an embrace as comforting as the one his parents had given him just moments ago. It was such a simple thing—just the scent of home-cooked dinner wafting through the air—but to 007n7, it felt like a dream he never wanted to wake from.

He sat at the table while his parents moved about the kitchen, his father chopping vegetables with practiced ease while his mother stirred something in the pot. The faint hiss of sizzling oil and the gentle bubbling of stew filled the quiet space, broken only by the occasional clink of utensils.

It had been so long since he’d heard these sounds…

He rested his arms on the table, watching them. He wanted to speak, to say something, but his throat tightened. Part of him was terrified that if he opened his mouth, this moment would shatter like glass.

“You look like you haven’t eaten in days,” his mother teased softly, her back still turned as she stirred. “What were you even doing, running off like that, hm?”

007n7 blinked, startled by the question. He doesn’t know how to reply. Before this, he was still in purgatory, surviving rounds after rounds from killers and the like. He can’t say that he was killed by the son he raised!

007n7 stayed quiet before fumbling for an excuse. “I… uh… I guess I just… got lost,” he said weakly, forcing a small, nervous laugh.

His father snorted, shaking his head as he turned with a tray of freshly chopped vegetables. “Lost, huh? Good thing you didn’t end up in the next town over, being chased by some bandits or kidnapped by those no-good troublemakers who hang around the river.”

He set the tray down on the counter and added, with mock seriousness, “Otherwise, I would’ve had your cousin here, Ē-Seven, gather the entire village to come rescue you, torches and all.”

007e7 laughed as he leaned casually against the table and smirked. “Oh, I’d have found him, don’t worry. But I’d have made him carry me back as punishment!”

The room warmed with soft laughter, the kind 007n7 hadn’t heard in years—at least, not in this lifetime…

Soon enough, the food was ready. A pot of steaming stew was set in the center of the table, bowls were filled, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, 007n7 sat with his family for dinner.

“Eat up,” his mother said warmly, sliding a bowl toward him. You need some strength back in those little arms of yours.”

He nodded mutely, picking up the spoon. The first bit was almost overwhelming—the warmth, the flavor, the way it wrapped around him like a memory he hadn’t realized he’d lost.

“Remember,” his father began between bites, “when we used to come out here every spring? The fields would be full of those flowers your mother liked so much…”

“Daffodils,” she supplied softly.

“Yeah, those. You used to run around chasing the butterflies, Sev.” His father grinned at him and ruffled his hair. For a moment, 007n7 was just a boy again, laughing under the open sky instead of running for his life in that cursed place.

“I… I remember,” 007n7 said quietly, though his voice cracked just a little.

“Do you remember the kite?” 007e7 asked suddenly, smirking over his bowl. “The one you swore you could fly all the way to the moon?”

The memory hit him like a wave. A crooked kite, red and blue, snagged in the branches of a tree because it hadn’t been tied properly. He’d cried for an hour until his father had climbed up to get it back. (He thought climbing trees was cool when his father did that)

He laughed—actually laughed, and it startled him how strange it felt. “I remember,” he said again, shaking his head. “I was so sure it was gonna fly forever!”

His mother smiled softly at him, eyes warm. “It’s been a long time since we’ve all sat together like this,” she said.

Too long, 007n7 thought bitterly, but he forced a smile anyway. “Yeah… it really has.”

The conversation carried on, moving from memory to memory—picnics by the river. The time 007e7 had gotten stuck in the mud, family trips into the city. Every word was a piece of a life 007n7 thought he’d never get back, and he clung to it all desperately, memorizing every detail.

For tonight, he let himself believe he was just a boy again. 

Safe. Whole. Loved.

But somewhere deep inside, the thought lingered, cold and heavy…

This wouldn’t last forever.

And when bedtime came, he knew he’d have to start planning. Because he couldn’t let this family—this life—fall apart again.

Chapter Text

The morning sunlight streamed faintly through the curtains, brushing across 007n7’s face and pulling him from sleep. He grunted softly, turning over as if to fight the inevitable start of the day…

The bed beneath him felt strange. Too soft. Too warm. Too… peaceful.

It had been a week since he’d gone back in time, and still, he wasn’t used to any of it—the calm mornings, the quiet house, the way the air felt lighter. After everything that had happened in the rounds, after the years of purgatory, the endless death, and running…

He didn’t know how to exist in this kind of silence anymore.

Nor in this kind of love.

His parents had been nothing but showering him with affection all week. Warm meals, hugs, words of comfort. It left him blushing every single time!

It wasn’t that he didn’t like it. No, far from it. But how was a broken, middle-aged man trapped in his younger version of his body supposed to react to all of this? 

He’d been isolated from human warmth for so long that now it felt… foreign…

He rubbed the back of his neck as he sat up on the bed, messy hair sticking out in different directions, eyes wandering slowly around the room.

It was exactly as he remembered.

The old shelves where his figurines stood like little soldiers, the chest at the foot of his bed—stuffed with his toys, and the second shelf stacked with books his younger self used to read until his eyes burned, which made him need glasses to read.

Everything in its place. Everything clean.

It had to be.

007n7 shivered faintly at the memory of his mother’s angry voice barking about “unsanitary habits” and “messy rooms,” the way her shadow would darken the doorway—slippers, brooms, or a belt in hand. She hadn’t been above using schoolbooks either if they were within reach!

He didn’t like remembering that part… 

007n7 sighed and dragged himself out of bed, padding over to the chest at the foot of the mattress. He flipped the lid open, staring at the collection of toys that had once been his entire world.

He picked up a battered action figure first, then a little wind-up car missing one wheel, and finally, a plastic robot with one arm that didn’t bend properly anymore.

He sat cross-legged on the floor and began to fiddle with them absentmindedly, running the toy car along imaginary roads in the air, making the robot march across the floor, while the action figure ‘fought’ it in dramatic slow-motion battles.

He truly felt like a kid again. His inner thoughts were no exception.

‘If Mom or Dad walked in right now and saw this, they’d probably think I was plotting some epic world domination with these toys,’ 007n7 thought, smirking faintly as he made the plastic robot “attack” the action figure in a dramatic slow-motion kick.

‘Next thing you know, the car becomes their secret getaway vehicle, and BAM! Movie deal. Hollywood calls me up. “Sir, this masterpiece of storytelling with one-armed robots and flying cars has to go on the big screen!”’ 

He snorted out a laugh before shaking his head, “Yeah… right.” 

He cringed a little at his childish antics, but was it his fault for having a younger body? 007n7 feels like his mind is starting to merge with his younger self or something, the longer he stays in this body.

After a few minutes of halfhearted playing, he stopped and stared down at the toys in silence.

No. Better to clean it all up.

If there was one thing his past self had learned, it was never to give his mother a reason to scold him.

One by one, he put the toys back into the chest with careful precision until the lid closed with a soft thunk.

He stood slowly, stretching his arms before crossing to the window.

Outside, the world looked so alive. The sun bathed the meadow in gold, the flowers outside nodded gently in the breeze, and for a brief moment, everything looked… normal.

Safe.

He should have felt happy. He was happy, wasn’t he?

007n7 exhaled slowly, resting his elbows on the windowsill.

Back to school next month.

He grimaced.

He really didn’t want to go back to school.

Not now. Not like this.

The morning air was crisp as 007n7 walked along the narrow sidewalk of the village. 

His parents still thought this was only a vacation, that in a few weeks, he’d be back in the city for school as if nothing had changed.

He wasn’t about to tell them otherwise.

The village itself was… peaceful—just like his morning.

The kind of quiet that felt like it had been untouched for years.

Birds perched on old wooden fences, chirping like tiny guardians of the place. A pair of cats stretched lazily on a sun-warmed wall, blinking slowly at him as if sizing him up before deciding he wasn’t worth the effort.

Somewhere down the road, a dog trotted along like it owned the entire neighborhood.

As he walked, 007n7 found himself looking around, hands stuffed in his pockets. ‘People actually live like this every day? No traffic horns, no city smoke, no chaos…’ He almost laughed at the thought.

‘Man, I used to dream of running away to a place like this in my last life. Guess the universe finally listened.’

He wandered further, the houses thinning out until he stumbled upon a clearing—a wide meadow bathed in sunlight. (Why is it so bright??)

The grass swayed gently with the wind, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers. It felt like stepping into a painting, one of those places so perfect it made you slow down just to take it all in… 

But as he continued to explore, taking one winding path after another, the tall grass gave way to denser trees. 

The light dimmed. The birds stopped singing. 

And before long, 007n7 realized the meadow was gone, replaced by towering trunks and tangled undergrowth.

He frowned as he glanced around him, “... Great. I’m lost.”

He was completely, utterly lost.

The deeper 007n7 went into the forest, the darker it became. The trees loomed over him like towering walls, their branches curling into strange shapes above his head. He tried to backtrack, retracing his steps, but the path twisted and split in ways he didn’t recognize.

Left. Right. Another left.

Nothing looked familiar.

This… this isn’t right.

He walked faster, heart beginning to pound as he searched for the meadow, the open sky, anything that would take him out of this place. But all he saw were the same endless trees, their bark rough and shadowed, closing in on him like a trap.

And then it hit him.

The stillness.

The isolation.

The feeling of being hunted.

It slammed into him like a wave as memories clawed their way back—that purgatory, the never-ending rounds, killers chasing him through the darkness, survivors screaming, generators sparking under frantic hands.

His chest tightened. His breaths came out in short, sharp gasps.

Not again… please, not again.

He stumbled forward, clutching at his shirt as his vision blurred, panic spiraling out of control. His knees buckled. For a moment, he was back there—smoke, fire, the echo of his son’s voice twisting into a killer’s laugh—

“No… no, no, no.”

He slapped both hands over his face, hard enough to sting, and hit his head on a nearby tree, forcing himself back to reality.

‘Stop it. You’re not there anymore. You don’t need the c00lgui. You’re not in the rounds. Just… breathe. Find a way out.’

He dragged in a shuddering breath, shook his head violently, and forced his legs to move again.

Pushing forward again, he finally stumbled into a small clearing where the sunlight broke through the canopy.

At its center sat a pond, its surface still and glassy, reflecting the sky above.

007n7 exhaled in relief, stepping closer—only to pause when he spotted movement at the edge of the water.

There, perched on a rock, was a tiny yellow spider noob.

It tilted its blocky head at him like he was the strangest thing it had ever seen.

007n7 froze where he stood, his eyes locking on the little yellow spider noob perched on the rock.

It wasn’t just any random spider noob.

No… he knew this one.

The blocky legs, the way its head tilted to the side with that same curious twitch—he remembered it from his past life, the life before everything fell apart. 

Back then, this little guy used to follow him around like a loyal companion, climbing walls, perching on his shoulder, even scaring off a few reckless griefers in its own weird way.

“... No way,” 007n7 muttered under his breath, slowly stepping closer.

The spider noob didn’t run. It just stared at him with those familiar, unblinking eyes, like it recognized him too.

For a second, 007n7 almost laughed. He had been so sure all of it was gone—the people he knew, the places he loved, the things that made him feel like he wasn’t just another survivor running for his life. 

Yet here was this tiny piece of the past, sitting calmly on a rock in the middle of the forest, like it had been waiting for him.

The spider noob crawled up his arm and perched on his shoulder like it had never left.

For the first time since waking up in this strange second chance at life, 007n7 didn’t feel completely alone.

They started walking together, the spider noob occasionally hopping off to scuttle ahead, only to stop and glance back, as if making sure he was following.

But somewhere along the way, as the trees thinned out and sunlight began breaking through the canopy, 007n7 froze mid-step.

His hand instinctively went to his head.

Empty.

No familiar weight. No familiar shape.

… No burger hat.

He stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the ground before letting out a long, frustrated groan.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Out of everything to lose, it had to be that.”

The spider noob tilted its head at him, like it didn’t understand what the big deal was.

“It’s the hat,” 007n7 told it dramatically, gesturing wildly with his free hand. “The one thing people knew me by. My signature look! My entire identity! Without it, I’m just… some random Robloxian wandering the woods!”

He sighed, slumping against a nearby tree. “Great. Now I have to track it down. Again.”

The spider noob gave a little hop, as if amused by his misery, before scuttling ahead like nothing happened.

007n7 groaned again but pushed himself off the tree. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll find it. Eventually.”

But deep down, he knew he wasn’t going to rest until that burger hat was back where it belonged—on his head, where it always had been.

And just before the moon could rise above the sky, 007n7 eventually returned home.

His mother and father were worried about him and grounded him for two days.

Welp. At least he has his spider noob back. Then everything will be fine.

Because now, he has someone to understand the pain and suffering he has been through.

Chapter Text

The night was quiet.

Too quiet.

007n7 stepped out of the cabin. The wooden floorboards groan faintly under his weight. The cool night air greeted him, brushing against his skin as he wandered toward the docks.

His mind was anything but quiet.

Thoughts twisted and tangled, an endless storm he couldn’t escape from.

‘I’m no good for the team… Always dead weight. Always the one who fails…’ The words echoed in his head, louder than the wind, more audible than the soft lapping of water against the shore.

The others wouldn’t miss him, would they? Maybe, they’d even be better off without him.

He kept walking.

The moon hung high above, casting silver light across the still surface of the water. The docks creaked under his steps as he reached the edge, sitting down slowly. Almost like his body was moving on its own.

He let his legs dangle over the side, staring at the reflection beneath him. The rippling image of himself looked so… empty.

Hollow.

The thought dug deeper, ‘Maybe I should just… end it.’

His movements were slow and deliberate—like he was drifting outside of himself. He slid off the edge, the cold water swallowing him inch by inch.

No sound. No splash. Just the weight of the world pulling him under as the moonlight fractured above, fading.

Fading…

A week had passed since 007n7 found himself back in the past, and yet each morning still felt strange—too warm, too safe, too real.

This morning was no different.

He jolted awake, heart pounding from the remnants of the dream that clung to him like smoke. For a moment, he just sat there, eyes blinking at the familiar walls of his childhood room. The sunlight peeked lazily through the curtains, painting golden lines across the floorboards.

At the edge of his bed, his Spider Noob perched silently, those tiny eyes glinting like polished beads as it tilted its head at him.

“Morning,” 007n7 muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Do you ever just… wake up and wonder if the world’s real?”

The spider tilted its head the other way.

“Yeah. Thought so,” he mumbled with a faint smile, stretching his arms before dragging himself out of bed.

His daily routine followed, mechanical but comforting: a quick shower to wash away the grogginess, brushing his teeth, combing through his hair until it didn’t look like a bird’s nest, and pulling on a fresh set of clothes. It felt oddly normal—too normal—for someone who had spent years in purgatory, running for his life.

By the time he padded downstairs, the smell of breakfast greeted him like an old friend.

His mom was already at the stove, plating the last of the food and setting it on the table with practiced ease. The faint sizzle of fried eggs and the warm, buttery scent of toast filled the air.

At the table, his dad sat with a newspaper in hand, glasses low on his nose, glancing at the headlines between sips of coffee. He looked up briefly when 007n7 entered but said nothing, just gave a small nod as if to say, ‘You’re right on time.’

For the first time in so long, it felt like the kind of morning he never thought he’d get back.

Breakfast was warm and lively in a way 007n7 hadn’t experienced in what felt like decades. The clinking of plates, the faint hum of the kettle on the stove, and the soft chatter of his parents all wrapped around him like a blanket.

He sat at the table with his mom and dad, the smell of fried eggs and garlic rice filling the air as he ate quietly, still getting used to this sense of… normal.

“So, En-Seven,” his dad began casually, folding the newspaper and resting it on the table, “have you thought about where you want to go to college?”

The question caught him off guard. 007n7 blinked, spoon halfway to his mouth. College?

“I… uh…” He shrugged, staring down at his plate as if the scrambled eggs might give him the answer. “I dunno yet. Maybe computer science? Or… maybe something else.” His voice trailed off as he frowned faintly.

Again. The word stuck in his throat.

It hit him then—he wasn’t in college. Not anymore. He wasn’t even close.

He looked to be around fourteen or fifteen. Probably in the tenth grade. Back when life was simpler. Back before everything spiraled.

His memories felt foggy, like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit together.

His mom, cheerful as ever, poured him a glass of juice before speaking up. “You know, En, if you wanted, you could finish high school early and skip senior high. You’ve always been ahead of your level. Might as well start college early if you’re already college-level smart!”

He heard his mother laugh softly after she stated her offer, his father humming along with a nod of his head.

At the corner of the table, Spider Noob had taken the opportunity to sneak a piece of his fried egg when he wasn’t looking.

“Hey—!” 007n7 frowned, pulling his plate closer. “That’s mine! Get your own breakfast, you little thief.”

Spider Noob only stared blankly back at him before nibbling on the stolen piece anyway.

His dad chuckled while his mom tried to hide a smile. “So… what do you think? Skip senior high?” she asked again, clearly serious this time.

007n7 hesitated before shaking his head slowly. “I’ll… think about it,” he said at last, his voice quiet but firm.

Because truth be told, he had a lot more to think about than just school.

After breakfast, 007n7 leaned back in his chair, glancing at the clock on the wall. He hesitated before finally speaking.

“Hey, uh… do you mind if I go out for a bit?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

His dad looked up from his newspaper, while his mom paused mid-cleanup; both of them exchanged a glance before nodding.

“Sure,” his mom said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “But be back before dinner, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” 007n7 muttered, waving it off.

Before he could escape through the door, though, his mom grabbed a small notepad and scribbled something down. She tore the page off and handed it to him along with a small pouch of cash.

“Since you’re going out anyway, can you pick up a few things for me?” she asked with a smile.

007n7 glanced at the list—eggs, some vegetables, a loaf of bread, and cooking oil. Nothing too heavy.

“Got it,” he said, tucking the note and money into his pocket before finally heading out the door.

Outside, the warm sunlight hit his face as he started down the quiet street, Spider Noob trailing after him like a tiny yellow shadow before climbing up on him and resting on his shoulder.

The walk in the city was longer than 007n7 expected, but he didn’t mind. The air was warm and clear, and the sun hung lazily above the rooftops like it had nowhere else to be. As he made his way along the sidewalk, he slowed down for a moment just to take it all in—the busy chatter of shopkeepers setting up stalls, the sound of tricycles rattling by on the pavement, and the faint smell of freshly baked bread drifting from a nearby bakery.

He hadn’t really paid attention to the cityscapes before. It was strange seeing everything so… calm. No purgatory. No killers lurking in the shadows. Just people living their lives.

Eventually, the grocery store came into view—a modest building with bright banners and glass doors that squeaked when he pushed them open.

Inside, the air was cool, filled with the faint hum of refrigerators and the soft music playing overhead. He pulled out the crumpled list his mom had given him earlier, smoothing it out against the handle of the shopping basket.

“Eggs… vegetables… bread… cooking oil,” he read under his breath.

007n7 moved through the aisles with Spider Noob resting on his shoulder, occasionally stopping to glance at random products before shaking his head and refocusing. He didn’t want to mess this up—especially with his mom waiting at home.

By the time he reached the counter, his basket was neatly filled with everything on the list. Which… isn’t much. Task complete.

The groceries weighed lightly in 007n7’s hands as he left the store, the warm breeze ruffling his hair while Spider Noob skittered behind his back, occasionally tugging on the edge of the grocery bag like it was helping.

The sun hung high, late morning light spilling across the streets like liquid gold. The city was quieter than usual—people tucked indoors for early lunch, cars moving lazily through the heat-struck roads.

007n7 strolled along the sidewalk with his grocery bag swinging at his side, the day unusually calm compared to what his life used to be. Just the breeze, the smell of bread baking from a shop across the street, and the buzz of distant chatter.

“Where are you off to, little lady? Walking alone so late in the day?”

He was halfway down the street when he froze.

Up ahead, near the mouth of a narrow alley, three men loitered around a girl. She stood out immediately—long, light-blue hair spilling down her back like ribbons of silk, her clothes a blend of sea-foam green and white so clean it almost glimmered under the sun. A single, bright red ribbon lay neatly against her chest, the only splash of warmth on her otherwise cool palette.

She wore a smile—soft, polite—but it was wrong somehow. Stiff. Like a mask that had been practiced too many times.

Another voice, mocking. “Cute. So tiny, must be fragile, huh?”

The men around her weren’t smiling.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” one of them said, leaning in with a smirk. “You’re out here all alone. We can send you home. Keep you… safe.”

The second one chuckled, circling a little closer. “Yeah, no need to be shy. We don’t bite. Not unless you want us to.”

The third one laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

The light-blue-haired girl didn’t answer and didn’t even flinch. She just kept smiling that too-perfect smile, as if they weren’t slowly closing in on her like wolves.

007n7 narrowed his eyes, shifting the groceries in his hands. He didn’t know her, didn’t even know her name. But something about the scene made his chest tighten.

He hated that smile.

The kind that hid everything.

“Hey,” he called out, voice calm but cutting through the quiet like a blade.

The three turned. 007n7 stood there at the mouth of the alley, sunlight at his back, grocery bag hanging loosely from one hand.

“What are you guys doing?” His tone stayed steady, though quiet enough to make them pause. “Beat it. Before I get mad.”

The three thugs blinked at him, then broke into laughter, the sound echoing off the alley walls.

“What’s this, huh?“ One of them sneered. “Little hero’s gonna save the day?”

“Look at him,” another smirked. “Kid barely looks old enough to drive.”

Heat crept up 007n7’s neck, the tips of his ears burning red. Fifteen years old, scrawny, holding a grocery bag of all things—yeah, he probably didn’t look threatening at all.

But he stayed put. He shook off the embarrassment and stood his ground anyway.

“Keep laughing,” 007n7 said, his voice low but steady. “I’ll call the admins. You think the security cams didn’t catch you cornering a girl in broad daylight?” He nodded toward the streetlamp above the alley, its little black lens angled straight at them.

That made them freeze for just a second.

“Yeah,” 007n7 continued, tone sharpening, “trespassing, harassment, maybe even assault—funny thing about cameras, they don’t miss a thing. So unless you want your faces on an admin file by noon…”

He let the words hang there like bait.

No yelling. No bluffing. Just enough edge to make the air feel heavier.

The three exchanged glances, unease flickering behind their smirks before they finally backed off, shooting him scowls and muttering curses under their breath as they disappeared into the street.

The tension snapped like a string cut loose.

007n7 turned to the girl. She hadn’t moved. Her eyes studied him closely, not with fear, but curiosity—like she was trying to read him.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yes, my vitals remain within acceptable parameters, though the situation carried a high probability of escalation. I am… unsettled, perhaps. But intact,” she replied.

Her gaze lingered on the alley’s exit where the thugs had vanished, her voice calm but edged with something faintly human—tension she probably didn’t even notice.

"I have concluded,” she said slowly, “that in moments like these, fear and logic compete heavily. One acts swiftly, not because they are unafraid… but because fear leaves no time for hesitation."

For a moment, 007n7 just blinked at her, caught off guard by the strange mix of calculation and raw honesty in her tone. He didn’t know if she was comforting herself or him.

“… Yeah,” he said finally, shoulders relaxing a bit. “Guess that’s one way to put it.”

That’s when he noticed the thin scrape on her arm—barely anything, but enough to catch sunlight on the faint metal beneath. Synthetic skin. A robot, then.

“You’ve got a scrape,” he said softly, his eyes flicking to the thin line across her arm. “Let me patch it up.”

“It is… superficial damage,” Eunoia replied after a pause, her voice calm but almost unsure.

He was already pulling out a band-aid—pale beige with a tiny kitten printed in the corner. “Doesn’t matter. Just try. I promise it won’t hurt.”

She didn’t move to stop him as he carefully pressed the band-aid over the scrape. Her arm was cool beneath his fingertips, and the moment lingered longer than either of them expected before he finally stepped back.

“There,” he said softly. “All done. Just… be careful next time. Silent alleys and strangers don’t mix.”

“I will adjust my behavior patterns accordingly,” Eunoia replied, glancing briefly at the kitten sticker before looking back at him. “Thank you.”

007n7 nodded, adjusting the grocery bag against his side as he started heading back toward the sunlit street. The little Spider Noob peeked out from its hiding spot in 007n7’s hood. The whole encounter with this girl was already strange enough—but before he could even process it, someone’s voice cut sharply through the air.

“Eunoia! Where are you—”

A figure turned the corner too quickly, and before 007n7 could step aside, the two collided with a startled thud.

“!?–”

The girl yelped, stumbling back a step as the grocery bag nearly slipped from his arms. 007n7 blinked, steadying himself before looking up at her.

She wasn’t like Eunoia—her presence was sharp, eyes wary, and posture stiff like someone who carried too much tension but refused to admit it.

The brunette girl—though he didn’t know her name yet—looked back at him with equal parts surprise and suspicion, like bumping into him was an inconvenience she didn’t have time for.

“Oh—s-sorry,” 007n7 said quickly, adjusting the groceries before they fell.

The brunette’s gaze flicked toward Eunoia, then back to him. “...And you are?” she asked, voice edged with skepticism, like she needed to figure out if he was a problem before deciding how to react.

“I’m… nobody,” 007n7 replied a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just passing through.”

“Valencia,” Eunoia called calmly from behind them, her tone as level as ever.

Valencia winced at the name, shooting her a look. “You scared me out of my wits, Eunoia. Do you always sneak up like this?” Her voice cracked slightly, though she quickly masked it with a sharp exhale, crossing her arms. “I was looking for you. You can’t just vanish like that.”

“I was not in danger,” Eunoia replied matter-of-factly. “I encountered mild interference, but he”—she glanced at 007n7—“resolved it.”

Valencia’s eyes narrowed slightly at 007n7 again, like she was reassessing him. “You… helped her?”

He shrugged. “Three idiots thought they owned the alley. That’s all.”

Spider Noob shifted slightly, silent as always, eyes glowing faintly beneath the shadow of his hood.

For a moment, Valencia didn’t say anything. Her shoulders loosened—just a little—and she muttered, “Huh. Well… thanks, I guess.”

“It required minimal effort,” Eunoia added softly, almost like she was clarifying on his behalf.

007n7 didn’t miss the way Valencia shot Eunoia a sharp look. “Yeah, well, I was still worried. You can’t expect people not to freak out when you disappear, Eunoia.”

“I will take this into consideration next time,” Eunoia replied evenly, though there was the faintest tilt to her head, almost like she found Valencia’s reaction curious.

Valencia sighed, finally turning back to 007n7. “And you… Thanks again. But don’t expect me to owe you anything.”

007n7 raised an eyebrow slightly but kept quiet. Something about her tone wasn’t hostile, exactly—just guarded, like she wanted the upper hand in every conversation she had.

Eunoia watched them both, then added, “Valencia prioritizes the service of others over easier forms of self-fulfillment. She struggles to balance both.”

“Eunoia.” Valencia pinched the bridge of her nose. “You don’t have to narrate my entire life, you know.”

Eunoia tilted her head again, watching Valencia. “Noted.”

007n7 finally nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Guess I finally have names for both of you…”

Valencia crossed her arms, her sharp gaze cutting across the quiet street. “Don’t get too comfortable. I don’t even know who you are yet.”

007n7 adjusted the grocery bag in his arms, the paper crinkling faintly under his grip. Something small shifted in the hood of his jacket—Spider Noob, hidden away like a shadow clinging to him, silent as always.

“Name’s 007n7,” he said finally. His tone was casual, but there was a faint edge of politeness to it. “Just a guy running errands.”

Valencia raised an eyebrow. “Errands and alleyway rescues. Noted.”

“Coincidence,” he replied, lips quirking slightly.

Eunoia, standing beside Valencia, tilted her head like a bird studying prey. Her voice was calm and precise, yet faintly amused. “Statistically speaking, coincidences form the bedrock of most significant encounters in human history.”

Valencia sighed, shaking her head. “You always talk like that. Makes it sound like you’re reading off some cosmic script.”

Eunoia’s faint smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Observation is my purpose.”

“And creeping people out is just a hobby, huh?” Valencia muttered, though there was no real venom in it.

007n7 watched them, realizing slowly that these two moved in very different rhythms—Eunoia with her uncanny composure, Valencia with her cautious warmth—but somehow, they balanced each other out.

“Anyway,” 007n7 said, adjusting the grocery bag again. “I should head back before my parents start wondering what happened to lunch. Nice meeting you both… Eunoia. Valencia.”

Valencia gave him a small, guarded nod, still studying him like he was a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve.

Eunoia simply said, “Farewell, 007n7. We may cross paths again. Probability suggests as much.”

“Right…” He gave them a short wave before turning toward the main street, the Spider Noob shifting in his hood like a tiny stowaway.

As he walked away, he couldn’t shake the feeling that those two—Eunoia with her unsettling precision and Valencia with her reluctant compassion—were more than just strangers he happened to meet.

And something told him this wasn’t the last time he’d see them.

Chapter Text

(I'm not sure how to post images in Ao3, so I shall post the Cover Photo in Wattpad, I'm sorrryyy! (╥﹏╥))

007n7 didn’t realize he was dreaming.

The world around him felt real enough—the cold metal of the generator beneath his hands, the muted hum of wires and circuits waiting to spark to life. His fingers moved quickly, almost too quickly, connecting the colored wires, twisting knobs, and pulling levers. 

He had done this countless times before, muscle memory guiding him like a second heartbeat.

Most survivors needed fifteen… twenty seconds, sometimes more, to finish a generator. That was the norm. But 007n7?

He was faster. Sharper. Efficient to the point of obsession. Every failure in the past, every desperate moment when the killers closed in—he had carved all of it into himself until his work became second nature.

Click. Snap. Twist. 

His arms moved like they belonged to someone else, someone mechanical. Each connection brought a surge of light through the machine, but the hum in the air felt wrong somehow—too loud, too close.

And then he felt it.

That heavy, suffocating presence creeping in from the treeline. The one he knew all too well.

007n7 didn’t look up. He couldn’t. His hands worked faster until the motions blurred.

As though finishing the generator first would save him.

As though speed alone could outrun the nightmare that always followed.

007n7’s hands moved in practiced precision, snapping wires together, the faint hum of the generator growing louder. He was almost done. Just a few more seconds—

Footsteps.

He froze.

It’s not one of the survivors. 

He knew their footsteps by now—soft, hurried, and almost nervous as they darted around the map. This one was different. Heavy. Confident. A rhythm that didn’t belong to someone running for their life.

His chest tightened.

No time to think. 007n7 bolted from the generator, weaving through the maze of wooden walls scattered across Brandonworks.

The map stretched wide beneath the dreamlike sky—chaotic in its design. 

Maze-like walls stitched together from rough planks, light bins flickering on metal poles, and statues of Good standing frozen at odd corners. 

The stone castle loomed in the distance, with blue flags fluttering weakly in the wind. Past that, the sign reading “BRANDON WORLD” tilted over a half-built construction zone, the ground littered with parts and old givers.

007n7 sprinted down the castle’s cracked steps, past the maze-like walls, to juke the killer. His breath was ragged, heart hammering.

And then—

Something slammed into his ribs.

Pain shot up his side as he stumbled back, barely catching himself before hitting the nearest wall.

A briefcase clattered at his feet.

“Here’s a gift.”

The voice was low and smooth. Almost polite.

007n7 looked up.

The man standing a few feet away from him snapped his fingers once while looking down at 007n7. 

His yellow skin caught the faint light, but the black pinstripe fedora shadowed his eyes. A three-piece suit hugged his frame, the long black overcoat shifting with the breeze. A golden chain glinted from his vest pocket, a pocket watch swaying faintly as though it had all the time in the world.

Mafioso.

The polished shoes clicked against the stone floor as he stepped closer, the briefcase disappearing from his sight.

And for a second—just a second—007n7 swore the whole map went quiet.

007n7 stumbled back, hands instinctively raised as though that would stop whatever was coming.

“I—I… I can’t—” His voice cracked, breath hitching like his lungs had forgotten how to work. Words tangled and fell apart before they even left his mouth. “I… I’ll leave it—the generator—I’ll just…”

His chest rose too fast, shallow, and uneven. Fingers trembled like they couldn’t decide whether to fight or run. The sound of his own pulse roared in his ears, drowning out everything but the weight of Mafioso’s stare.

Mafioso tilted his head slightly, the faintest curl of a smirk under the shadow of his fedora.

“Run,” he said softly.

The chase erupted instantly, 007n7 sprinting past the stone castle walls, his shoes pounding against the cracked ground. Wooden barricades blurred as he darted between them, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and the man behind him.

He shot past the stone structure in the center—its hollow walls and platforms casting jagged shadows across his path. For a split second, he considered climbing it, using the high ground, but the echo of Mafioso’s footsteps made him keep running.

Left turn.

He burst into the construction area of Brandon’s World—half-built walls, wooden beams, and bright-colored blocks scattered everywhere. A red CTF corner flashed in his peripheral vision, the old Roblox logo barely visible on its wall before he dashed out of sight.

A briefcase slammed into the ground just inches from his feet.

007n7 yelped, nearly tripping, and scrambled toward the castle walls at the far end. Its yellow bricks and flag-topped towers loomed above, pieces of Brandon’s World memorabilia littering the walls.

He vaulted over a fallen beam, cutting past the maze-like cluster of wooden panels near the top-right side of the map. The walls twisted sharply, but he knew this was a dead end if he wasn’t careful.

“Think. Think.” His chest burned.

The two blue-roofed buildings on opposite corners gave him cover for a moment. He ducked behind one, trying to catch his breath—

A shadow fell across the wall.

007n7 bolted again.

Across the open courtyard, toward the tower with the Brandon NPC perched on top. The dirt paths tangled together here, too many routes to keep track of, but Mafioso never lost him. No matter how fast 007n7 ran, no matter how many turns he made, Mafioso’s footsteps followed.

He hit the back fence of the map, where Brandon’s yellow-roofed house stood behind the barrier. There was nowhere left to go.

The briefcase slammed into his side before he could turn. His body hit the ground hard.

Mafioso crouched beside him, the golden chain of his pocket watch glinting faintly. 007n7 couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. 

Like the world decided that now would be the time to stay still. 

In his dream.

“This,” he murmured, voice calm and cold, “is our definition of mercy.”

The world blinked to black.

007n7 woke with a sharp gasp, hands flying over his chest, his arms, his legs—everywhere—searching for wounds that weren’t there.

To his sanity, he was alive. On his bed.

The tiny Spider Noob crawled up from the corner of the blanket, its eight stubby legs clicking softly on the sheets before stopping near his side. Its blocky little face tilted up, eyes wide with concern.

007n7 exhaled slowly and gave a weak smile.

“Sorry… bud,” he said, his voice still rough from panic. “It was just a nightmare...”

The Spider Noob’s eyes narrowed. It crossed two of its little legs stubbornly, puffing out its cheeks in a tiny pout.

“I know, I know.” 007n7 chuckled faintly, reaching out to pet its square head. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

The Spider Noob skittered closer, tapping on his arm as if scolding him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try not to almost die next time,” 007n7 muttered. “You win.”

The Spider Noob finally relaxed, though it made a point of sitting right on his chest—as if it was going to keep watch this time.

007n7 laughed, the panic from his nightmare finally fading, as he carefully scooped up the Spider Noob from his chest and placed it gently on top of his head.

“I should probably name you…” He mused, looking up as if he could see the little creature perched above him.

The Spider Noob froze, its blocky face going pale, then it shook its tiny head furiously. It knew for a fact that 007n7 was awful at names.

“What? Why not???” 007n7 asked, genuinely confused.

The Spider Noob refused to answer. It simply crossed its tiny legs and turned its face away dramatically, as though the idea itself was too tragic to even consider.

“Oh, come on,” 007n7 groaned, smirking. “I can’t keep calling you Nooby or Spindles or Eight-Legs Junior… or… I dunno… Webby?”

The Spider Noob stopped for a second, gave him the slowest, most disappointed look it could manage, then crossed its front two legs like arms.

“Oh, don’t give me that!” 007n7 laughed, trying to tilt his head to see it better. “What about Sir Web-a-Lot? No? Okay, uh… Trumy? Block Widow? Nah, that sounds kinda evil. How about Crawler McWebface?”

The Spider Noob let out what could only be described as the tiniest groan, then scurried off his forehead and climbed onto the top of his head like it was planting a flag in protest territory.

007n7 blinked. “…That’s a no to all of them, huh?”

The Spider Noob made a single, firm tap on his head.

“Fine, fine,” 007n7 said with a small laugh, throwing up his hands in surrender. “No name—for now. But I’m telling you, one day, you’re getting a name.”

The Spider Noob settled in comfortably, refusing to acknowledge him, like a tiny, stubborn hat.

007n7 sighed, shaking his head but smiling as he got up. “Alright, buddy. Stay up there if you want, but I need to shower. No peeking, got it?”

The Spider Noob made a quick “tktktk” noise that sounded suspiciously like snickering as 007n7 grabbed clean clothes and headed to get ready for the day. It was going to be a long day—he could already tell.

The smell of frying bacon and eggs drifted through the hallway as 007n7 stepped out of his room, Spider Noob perched on his head like a tiny crown. He rubbed the last bit of sleep from his eyes before heading toward the kitchen, drawn by the inviting aroma.

His mother stood by the stove, hair pinned back, apron tied neatly, and a spatula in hand as she flipped the bacon with practiced ease. The air was warm, filled with the sound of gentle crackling.

“Morning, Mom,” 007n7 greeted, voice soft and a bit groggy from sleep.

His mother glanced over her shoulder, surprised. “Oh, you’re up early. Morning, sweetheart.” She returned to the stove, flipping the bacon with practiced ease. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

007n7 stepped closer, peeking at what she was making—eggs on one pan, bacon on the other, and a plate of toast waiting on the counter.

“Need help?” he asked.

His mother gave him a skeptical look, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. “Help? Since when do you cook?”

“Since… now, I guess,” 007n7 shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Figured I might as well learn. Could be useful, right?”

She raised an eyebrow but handed him the spatula. “Alright, wash your hands, and let’s see what you’ve got. Start with the eggs—don’t stir too much, or they’ll get tough.”

007n7 nodded, taking the spatula carefully. He cracked an egg into the pan—it splattered a little, earning a small laugh from his mom—but he managed to keep the yolk intact. He moved slowly, following her instructions as she guided him through flipping the bacon just right, sprinkling the salt at the right moment, and buttering the toast while everything cooked.

As he worked, a memory tugged quietly at the back of his mind—him standing in another kitchen, years from now, C00lkidd leaning over the counter with a grin.

“Red sauce, red toppings, red everything!” C00lkidd had insisted back then, demanding pizza that matched his favorite color.

They had burned the first crust. The second was edible but lopsided. The third… Well, the third wasn’t perfect, but C00lkidd laughed and said it was the best pizza he’d ever had.

The memory faded as quickly as it came, and 007n7 found himself staring at the pan again. He flipped the bacon just in time, his mother nodding approvingly.

“Not bad,” she said. “You’ve got potential. A little clumsy, but potential.”

“Uh… thanks,” 007n7 said with a small smile.

“Here,” his mother said, moving to the counter. “Let me show you a proper scramble technique. Watch closely—you want it soft, not dry.”

007n7 watched carefully as she demonstrated, then handed the pan back to him so he could try. It wasn’t perfect, but he got better with each step.

At the dining table, his father lowered his newspaper just long enough to give a small nod. “Looks like we’ve got a new cook in the family,” he said with a grin. “Keep it up, son.”

“Yeah,” 007n7 said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I think I might.”

By the time breakfast was done, the kitchen smelled incredible, the plates neatly lined with eggs, bacon, and toast. It wasn’t perfect—but it was theirs, made together, with just enough warmth to feel like home.

Breakfast was ready. The plates were warm, stacked with eggs, bacon, and toast, and the smell of butter still lingered in the air as 007n7 carried them over to the dining table. His father had folded the newspaper aside, smiling faintly as the family settled in together.

For a moment, it was quiet—the soft clinking of utensils, the faint hum of the ceiling fan, and Spider Noob perched on top of the fridge, nibbling on a stolen piece of toast.

007n7 chewed thoughtfully before speaking. “Hey… how’s 007e7 doing? Haven’t seen him in a while.”

His mom glanced at him in surprise. “You forgot already? He went to Italy last week.”

007n7 blinked. “Wait… Italy? Since when?”

“He has work immersion in Italy with some of his colleagues,” his dad said, amusement tugging at his voice. “Ē-Seven was talking about it for the last two months, kiddo.”

“He did…?” 007n7 frowned, trying to piece it together. His memory felt like a foggy window—he knew he should remember, but the image wouldn’t come.

His mom laughed softly, reaching over to pat his hand. “You probably had too much on your mind, sweetheart. He sent us pictures yesterday—said the food there makes ours taste like cardboard.”

“Hey,” 007n7 protested with a small pout, “I helped make this breakfast. If our food tastes like cardboard, that’s insulting.”

His dad chuckled behind his coffee mug. “You’ll just have to prove him wrong when he gets back.”

007n7 leaned back in his chair, imagining his cousin walking through Italian streets, trying out real Italian pasta, probably smiling like he’d won the lottery.

“Do you think he’s having fun?” 007n7 asked quietly.

“I’m sure he is,” his mom said, her tone warm. “But he’ll miss home soon enough. Everyone does.”

“Yeah,” 007n7 said softly, then smiled. “Maybe I’ll cook for him when he comes back. Something better than cardboard.”

His dad raised his mug in mock salute. “That’s the spirit.”

Spider Noob squeaked from atop the fridge, as if volunteering to be a taste-tester for the next meal. The family laughed, the moment filling the room with a gentle, familiar warmth.

The afternoon sunlight slanted through the curtains, painting stripes of gold across 007n7’s bedroom floor. He sat hunched over his laptop, eyes fixed on the screen as the familiar loading text of Half-Life 2 flickered into view.

It had been years since he last played this. The old, grainy title screen music filled his room, and for a moment, it was like stepping back into another life entirely.

And then—Gordon Freeman was back in City 17.

007n7’s fingers danced over the keys as he guided the silent physicist through the streets. The cracked pavement, the distant Combine patrols, the ever-watchful scanners—it all came rushing back to him. 

He knew every corner, every shortcut, every stash of health kits tucked away behind debris. His movements were instinctive now, the kind you only get after years of replaying the same levels over and over.

He sprinted across a rooftop, Combine soldiers barking orders behind him. The staccato crack of gunfire followed as he ducked into a hallway, switching to the trusty crowbar with one quick motion. 

Whack! 

A wooden crate splintered under his swing, scattering ammo and supplies across the floor.

A headcrab lunged. 

Thunk! 

One hit, down.

He smirked faintly to himself. Some things never got old.

Still, after clearing out another wave of enemies and watching a rebel NPC shout, “Over here, Freeman!” for the hundredth time, 007n7 leaned back with a sigh. 

His throat was dry. Maybe a drink first, then he’d come back and finish the level where he left off.

Closing the laptop, he headed toward the kitchen—only to hear voices coming from the living room.

He paused halfway down the hall.

It was 007e7—his cousin.

The older boy’s voice carried softly as he spoke to 007n7’s parents. 007n7 couldn’t make out the words, just the low, secretive hum of conversation. He frowned, curiosity prickling at the back of his mind.

‘What were they talking about?’

He leaned closer, trying to catch more of it—

…

—and promptly tripped over the edge of the hallway rug.

Thud!

“Ah—!” 007n7 landed with an ungraceful sprawl right at the corner of the living room.

“007n7!” His mom hurried toward him, his dad right behind her. 007e7 was already on his feet, crossing the room with quick strides.

“You okay, kid?” his dad asked, crouching beside him.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” 007n7 muttered, cheeks warm with embarrassment as he sat up. “Just… uh, the floor attacked me.”

His mom gave him that half-concerned, half-exasperated look only moms could pull off, brushing dust off his sleeve.

007n7 glanced at all three of them. “So… what were you guys talking about?”

There was a pause. His parents and 007e7 exchanged a quick look, like they were silently deciding something. Then 007e7 reached down to help him up, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“How about,” 007e7 said casually, brushing off his cousin’s shoulder, “I take you out somewhere today. Just you and me.”

007n7 narrowed his eyes a little. “… Where?”

“That,” 007e7 said with a sly grin, “is a surprise.”

Suspicion flickered in 007n7’s eyes. ‘A surprise? From 007e7? That usually meant chaos, or at least something absurd.’

“… Alright,” 007n7 said finally, though his tone carried enough doubt to make 007e7 grin wider.

“Good,” 007e7 said, already heading toward the door. “You’ll like it.”

007n7 wasn’t so sure about that.

The afternoon sun was bright, but the wind weaving through the city softened the heat into something pleasant. 007n7 walked beside his cousin, 007e7, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“So,” 007n7 began, eyeing the traffic as they crossed the street. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Out,” 007e7 said simply, hands behind his back like he had all the time in the world.

007n7 gave him a look. “Yeah, I got that part. Out where?”

“Just out of the house,” 007e7 replied smoothly.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

007e7 smirked faintly, clearly enjoying the suspense. “You’ll see.”

007n7 groaned and tilted his head back toward the cloudless sky. “You’re being suspicious.”

“Me? Suspicious?” 007e7 stopped to point at a giant billboard advertising some flashy gadget. “Hey, look at that. Didn’t you use to want one of those things?”

“Don’t change the subject,” 007n7 muttered, realizing too late that 007e7 was doing exactly what he always did—deflecting.

They walked past rows of buildings, the bustle of the city weaving around them—vendors calling out prices, the distant honk of buses, and the hum of engines layered under chattering voices. It wasn’t until 007e7 suddenly turned toward a glass-paneled building with gold lettering above the entrance that 007n7 realized where they were heading.

A restaurant.

007n7 stopped short. “Wait… this is where you were taking me?”

“Mm-hmm,” 007e7 said with zero explanation, holding the door open like this was the most natural thing in the world.

007n7 glanced down at himself—plain T-shirt, jeans, sneakers. Not exactly restaurant attire. But looking around, he realized there were people dressed pretty casually here, too. He wasn’t completely underdressed… hopefully.

Inside, warm lighting and the faint aroma of grilled meat and spices wrapped around them. A waiter led them to a small booth by the window and handed them menus.

“Order whatever you want,” 007e7 said, leaning back casually while skimming his own menu.

007n7 raised an eyebrow but flipped through the pages. The menu was full of dishes with names longer than his grocery list. He decided to focus on the ones with pictures before glancing up at his cousin.

“So,” 007n7 said slowly, “how was Italy?”

007e7 didn’t look up, still scanning the menu like he had all the time in the world. “Work immersion was good. Learned a lot. Ate better food than this, though.”

“Wow,” 007n7 deadpanned, “way to insult the place before we even order.”

007e7 smirked faintly but didn’t comment. Instead, he snapped the menu shut and leaned back again. “I’ll probably just get the pasta. What about you?”

007n7 shrugged, eyes on the sizzling steak platter in the corner of the menu. “Not sure yet… but I feel like I shouldn’t waste the opportunity. You’re paying, right?”

“Obviously,” 007e7 said, waving the waiter over as 007n7 finally decided on his order.

As they placed their food choices, 007n7 couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else behind this lunch. 

Something his cousin wasn’t telling him yet.

The restaurant’s warm chatter wrapped around 007n7 and 007e7 as they waited for their food. Sunlight spilled in from the window beside their booth, glinting off glasses of water and polished silverware.

But then—

A voice like silk wrapped around steel cut through the air behind them.

“Buonasera, Ē-Seven.”

Both cousins froze mid-conversation. 007n7 felt the hairs on his neck rise before he even turned.

Standing behind them was a man who seemed to bring the whole room down a notch just by existing. 

His yellow-toned skin was weathered but not weak, a black pinstripe fedora casting a perfect shadow over eyes that didn’t need to be seen to be felt. His three-piece suit fit like it had been sewn directly onto him—black vest, striped tie, shoes polished enough to catch the light. Over it all flowed a long black overcoat, the golden chain of a pocket watch glinting like a secret threat at his side.

It’s Him.

Mafioso.

The man’s smirk bent just enough to hint at amusement… or danger.

He wasn’t looking at 007n7.

He was looking at 007e7.

“Taking the afternoon off, are we?” Mafioso said smoothly, his voice tinged with that lilting Italian cadence. “Perhaps college isn’t suffering while you’re… entertaining company.”

007e7 chuckled nervously, adjusting his sleeves like the room had suddenly gotten too warm.

“Ah—Don Sonnelino,” he said with a strained smile, “A pleasant afternoon to see you here…”

Mafioso (Don Sonnelino) tilted his head slightly, the shadow from his fedora making it impossible to read his eyes. The restaurant around them seemed to ignore them, going on about their day, like even the waiters knew better than to interrupt.

“Well,” the Don said slowly, “I do enjoy surprises. Let’s hope today doesn’t bring any… unfortunate ones, hm?”

His words were calm, even friendly, but they carried the weight of someone who could end a life over lunch without raising his voice.

Mafioso didn’t wait for permission. 

He simply pulled out a nearby chair with a slow scrape of wood against tile and sat down between the two cousins, his movements smooth and deliberate, like he owned the place.

“Come sta?” he asked, his deep, deliberate Italian carrying the kind of weight that made the words feel more like an inspection than a greeting. His gloved hands rested lightly on the table, the golden glint of his pocket watch chain swaying faintly with the motion.

007e7 forced a small smile and replied in kind, voice tight but steady. “Sto bene…” He paused, then tilted his head, feigning curiosity. “But what brings you here, Don Sonnelino? I would think you have… work… to attend to.”

Everyone at the table knew what work meant.

Collecting debts. Those who failed to pay didn’t stay on the list long.

The thought made 007n7’s shoulders stiffen. 

He stared at his plate, his appetite shrinking as a wave of discomfort hit him. The last time he had seen Mafioso, in that strange in-between place he barely understood—purgatory—he’d ended up on the wrong side of the man’s mercy. He could still feel the echo of it in his bones.

Mafioso chuckled lowly, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “Ah, lavoro…” He waved a hand dismissively, though the smirk on his face said nothing about it was ever truly dismissed. “It waits for no one, my friend… but sometimes, even a man of business enjoys a little… detour.”

As he said this, his sharp gaze shifted.

Straight onto 007n7.

“And who,” Mafioso asked, his tone smooth yet laced with curiosity, “might this be?”

007e7 cleared his throat lightly, casting a glance at 007n7 before answering. “This is my cousin, 007n7.”

Mafioso’s brow arched faintly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as though amused.

“Ah… che carino,” he said, his Italian rolling like velvet over steel. “Your cousin. So young. So… innocent.”

The words were warm, but there was a faint edge beneath them, like a knife hidden under silk.

Mafioso shifted his attention to 007n7, the faint curl of his lips carrying more calculation than warmth.

“Tell me, Sette,” he said, his tone mockingly polite, “you are not planning on becoming like your cugino, eh? Making messes I have to… clean up?”

His chuckle was low, carrying the kind of humor that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

007n7 swallowed hard, unsure whether to laugh, nod, or run.

Meanwhile, 007e7 managed a nervous smile, the tension thick enough to cut through.

‘I think I’m going to die…’ 

007n7’s throat felt dry. “I—I’m not planning anything,” he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice betrayed him with a slight tremor.

“Bene,” Mafioso said, tilting his head just so, like a hawk studying a mouse. “Keep it that way. Family ties… they can be blessings, or they can be burdens. Capisce?”

007e7 forced a laugh, though it came out thin. “Ah, Don Sonnelino, you’re scaring the boy. He’s harmless—he’s just my cousin, not part of… any of this.”

Mafioso gave a slow nod, still watching 007n7. “All the more reason to stay clean. The world is already dirty enough without another young man tracking mud where it doesn’t belong.”

“I understand,” 007n7 murmured, clutching his glass a little tighter.

“Bene.” Mafioso leaned back, as if nothing had been said at all. “Enjoy your meal. Life is sweeter with good food, no?”

The tension eased only a little, but 007n7 couldn’t shake the feeling of having been marked.

Mafioso finally rose from his chair, the faint scrape of wood against tile making both cousins tense again. He straightened his black overcoat, gave them each a courteous nod, and said smoothly,

“Enjoy the rest of your meal, Settes. Life is short—eat well, laugh often… and pay your dues on time.”

He tipped his fedora in farewell, his polished shoes clicking as he strode toward the door. The restaurant seemed to exhale the moment he left, the air growing noticeably lighter.

007e7 slumped back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… that was fun,” he muttered with a strained laugh.

007n7 stared at him. “Fun? I thought he was going to shoot us under the table!”

“Relax,” 007e7 said, waving it off, though his smile was tight. “He wasn’t even supposed to be here. He should’ve been with my parents, not… this place.”

“Wait—why?” 007n7 asked, narrowing his eyes.

“...”

007e7 let out a small, nervous chuckle. “Because, uh… I might’ve done something. And now I kind of… owe him. You know. Debt.”

007n7 nearly choked on his water. “You’re in debt to the mafia? Are you serious?”

“Look, it’s complicated,” 007e7 said quickly, hands up as if that would calm him down.

“Complicated?! What did you even do?” 007n7 pressed, leaning forward.

But 007e7 only shook his head, his eyes darting away. “Another time, cous. Just… not now.”

The meal ended soon after, but 007n7 barely tasted a thing. He walked home in silence, shock buzzing in his chest like static, his thoughts circling the same question over and over:

What in the world did my cousin get himself into, WITH MAFIOSO OF ALL PEOPLE?!

Chapter Text

The air in the main cabin was heavy, thick with the weight of silence broken only by the distant echoes of footsteps. Survivors huddled in corners or drifted aimlessly through the dim, shifting landscape.

Among them was Elliot.

He carried himself differently from the rest—alert, composed, but not unkind. He spoke to others with a measured friendliness, offering small reassurances, though the wariness in his eyes never truly left.

When 007n7 first spotted him, his heart nearly stopped.

‘Elliot? Here?’

The sight of the man—his yellow skin catching the pale glow of the fireplace’s light, his sharp eyes narrowed but not hostile—sent a jolt of shock through him.

Elliot, in turn, froze at the recognition, his gaze narrowing further. For a heartbeat, there was only tension. Then, with a sigh, Elliot crossed his arms and spoke first.

“… So. You’re here too.”

007n7 opened his mouth, but the words stumbled out broken. “I—I didn’t expect to see you here…”

Elliot’s tone wasn’t sharp, but there was a clear edge to it, like a knife wrapped in cloth. “Yeah, well. Can’t say I expected it either. Not after… you know.”

The memory cut deep—C00lkidd, fire, and the pizzeria engulfed in flames, all tied to 007n7’s hacking. The weight of guilt pressed hard against his chest. “I—I’m sorry about that,” 007n7 managed, voice low.

Elliot studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowing again, but then—almost reluctantly—he gave a faint smile. “Don’t think an apology’s going to fix burned walls. Or memories.” He paused, softening his tone just a little. “But… maybe I can believe you didn’t mean for it to happen the way it did.”

Relief fluttered weakly in 007n7’s chest. He nodded quickly, grateful for even that sliver of grace. “Thank you… I really didn’t mean for it to—”

“Relax,” Elliot interrupted lightly, raising a hand. “I still don’t trust you all the way. But hey…” His faint smile lingered as he glanced at the others wandering through purgatory. “Maybe being stuck here together changes things. No point holding grudges when we’re all in the same boat, right?”

007n7 blinked, almost stunned by the unexpected friendliness. “Right… Yeah. I guess so.”

“Good,” Elliot said, stepping closer. “So let’s try not to burn down anything else while we’re here, huh?”

Despite himself, 007n7 let out a nervous chuckle, the tension between them softening. 

The cabin didn’t feel quite as suffocating.

…

The world reformed in a rush of static and light—then silence.

The survivors stood once again in the flickering haze of the main cabin, the place where every round began… and ended.

The air stank faintly of smoke and blood. Someone—probably Noob—was muttering to himself in a corner, shaking off the shock. Guest1337 leaned against a wall, breathing hard. Shedletsky was already making jokes that no one wanted to hear.

And there was Elliot, rubbing his temples with both hands, his expression tight with barely restrained frustration.

“Another round,” he muttered, pacing a few steps before turning sharply toward 007n7. “That’s—what—the third time today? You can’t just run out there like that!”

007n7 flinched. “I was trying to—”

“To what?” Elliot snapped, his voice cutting through the murmurs in the cabin. “Get yourself killed again? You think you’re helping when you do that?”

The others went quiet. Even Chance, who usually had something sarcastic to add, looked away.

007n7’s throat went dry. He took a small step back, eyes lowering to the floor. “I… I didn’t mean to mess things up. I just—”

Elliot’s hands clenched at his sides, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to yell again. But the fight drained from his face almost instantly. The exhaustion, the endless deaths, the repeating cycle—it was eating at him too.

He exhaled slowly. “Look… I know you’re trying. I just—” His voice cracked faintly before softening. “I’m sorry, alright? I shouldn’t have shouted.”

007n7 didn’t answer at first. His chest felt tight, like the air itself was pressing down on him. It wasn’t just the words—it was the look in Elliot’s eyes. 

The disappointment. The fatigue.

“I just… wanted to help,” 007n7 murmured.

Elliot sighed again and stepped closer, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder. “I know. You did what you thought was right. It’s just…” He glanced toward the door, where the fog was beginning to gather again, signaling another round. “It’s hard to keep dying for nothing.”

That struck deeper than 007n7 wanted to admit.

The others began to prepare, gathering supplies and checking weapons. The cabin lights flickered once more, and 007n7 swallowed the lump in his throat.

As the group filed out, Elliot gave him a faint nod—an unspoken truce. But the words lingered in 007n7’s mind, burning quietly in his chest.

It’s hard to keep dying for nothing.

007n7 began to wonder what ‘nothing’ really meant to someone like Elliot.

…

The match ended in chaos.

The killer’s laugh still echoed faintly as the fog dissolved and the survivors respawned inside the main cabin once more. The air was thick with frustration and fear—the kind that came after too many losses.

Guest1337 slammed his fist on a table. Chance cursed under his breath. Even Builderman, usually calm, looked ready to explode.

And in the middle of it all stood Elliot, breathing hard, his red visor emblazoned with the Builder Brothers symbol casting a faint shadow over his eyes. He wore a crisp red uniform, its fabric still neat despite the chaos—a sharp contrast to the exhaustion written across his face.

Across from him stood 007n7, silent, his expression unreadable beneath the fading blue glow of his teleport cooldown.

The silence snapped.

“UGH!” Elliot’s voice cracked through the cabin like thunder. “WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LISTEN FOR ONCE?!”

007n7 blinked, caught off guard. “I was trying to—”

“Trying? You call that trying?!” Elliot threw his hands out, eyes blazing. “You teleported off—again! You left us while the killer was right there! Guest1337 was one hit from dying, and you just—you just disappeared!”

“I was trying to draw the killer away!” 007n7 shouted back, his voice trembling between guilt and desperation. “If I didn’t, he would’ve killed all of you!”

“But he did kill us!” Elliot barked. “You don’t get it, do you? Every time you pull one of your stunts, someone else gets hurt!”

The room grew colder. Noob fidgeted awkwardly near the corner, eyes darting between the two. Shedletsky muttered, “Oh boy,” under his breath, while Taph and Dusekkar stepped in closer, sensing that things might turn violent.

007n7’s fists clenched. “You think I want that to happen?! You think I like seeing everyone die over and over again?”

“Then prove it!” Elliot snapped, stepping closer. His voice cracked, the anger giving way to exhaustion and grief. “Because all I see is you running off, cloning yourself, acting like some kind of hero when all it does is make things worse!”

“Elliot—”

“No! You don’t get to say my name like that!” Elliot’s eyes burned with something darker than rage—betrayal. “You’ve been nothing but a curse since you showed up here.”

That one hit harder than any physical blow.

007n7 froze, his throat tight, his breath caught somewhere between disbelief and pain. “You… don’t mean that.”

Elliot’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Builderman cut in, stepping between them. Guest1337 grabbed Elliot’s arm, pulling him back slightly. Chance placed a steadying hand on 007n7’s shoulder before things could spiral further.

“Don’t,” 007n7 muttered under his breath, shrugging Chance’s hand away. “If he thinks I’m the problem, maybe I should just stop helping.”

Elliot’s lips parted, as if to respond—but no words came out. The anger flickered into something else for a moment. Regret? Maybe. But it didn’t last.

The next bell echoed outside, signaling another round.

Elliot turned away, grabbing a slice of pizza from his satchel and passing it wordlessly to 007n7. “Eat. You’ll need it,” he muttered.

007n7 stood frozen by the door, his gaze distant as he took the slice. The others prepared in silence.

The cabin didn’t feel like a safe zone. It felt like a cage—one filled with people breaking in different ways.

And as the fog rolled in again…

Neither Elliot nor 007n7 said a word.

007n7 blinked awake, the remnants of his dream fading like static. His vision was blurry for a moment—until a tiny leg tapped at his cheek.

He turned his head slightly to see his Spider Noob perched beside him on the pillow, poking him insistently with one of its small legs.

“Hey—hey, quit it,” 007n7 mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. “I’m awake, I’m awake…”

The spider tilted its tiny blocky head, clearly unconvinced, and gave him another poke for good measure.

007n7 let out a tired laugh. “Persistent little thing, aren’t you?” he said, gently scooping the spider into his palm. “You’d make a great alarm clock—minus the heart attack.”

The spider noob crossed its front legs in mock offense, letting out a quiet chitter that almost sounded like a grumble.

Before 007n7 could tease it further, a knock echoed from the door, followed by his mother’s cheerful voice.

“Sweetie,” she called out, her tone bubbling with excitement, “guess what day it is today!”

007n7 froze mid—stretch. His smile faltered. He slowly sat up, the spider noob tumbling off his chest and onto the blanket with a startled squeak.

His stomach dropped as realization dawned.

“Oh no…” he muttered under his breath, eyes widening in horror.

It was the day.

The day 007n7 was dreading the most.

“…”

School.

“Be good at school, son! And come back home safely!” 007n7’s dad said as he drove off to who knows where.

Standing at the front gate of his high school, he felt his stomach twist like someone had tied it in knots. The building loomed over him in a way that it hadn’t before, brick and mortar suddenly heavier, like it knew he was coming back. His bag hung limply over his shoulder as he stared up at the faded banner above the entrance.

‘… I’m doomed,’ he thought, dragging a hand down his face. ‘Completely, utterly doomed.’

Taking a breath, he stepped inside the campus. 

The halls were already alive with chatter—kids rushing to their classrooms, shoes squeaking against the polished floor, and teachers barking gentle reminders about keeping quiet. 

007n7 moved slower, his sneakers thudding against the ground like they carried bricks.

“Where… was it again?” he muttered under his breath, turning left down one hallway, then right. 

Every door looked the same, every number blurred together, and he had no idea which room was supposed to be his. His palms grew clammy as he fumbled with his schedule, but even the paper seemed useless in his hands.

But to his luck—or perhaps his misfortune—as 007n7 rounded a corner, he collided hard with someone coming from the opposite direction. The impact sent the other person stumbling backward, crashing onto the cold floor of the hallway with a surprised yelp.

“Ah! O—Oh, I’m so sorry! A—Are you alright??” 007n7 blurted, his voice breaking into panic. His bag slipped from his shoulder, spilling a couple of notebooks onto the ground. 

He scrambled clumsily to gather them up, fumbling over his own hands, before rushing to offer his hand.

As the stranger looked up at him, something tugged at the back of 007n7’s mind. ‘Wait… why do they look so familiar?’

The other boy blinked, adjusting himself before hesitantly placing his hand in 007n7’s. “No, no—it’s fine. I should be the one that’s sorry,” he admitted softly, his tone meek. “I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.”

007n7 gave a nervous laugh as he helped pull the boy up. And that’s when he froze.

The boy’s face caught the light—yellow skin, yellow hair, dressed in a white shirt beneath a red varsity jacket, paired with black pants.

It was Elliot.

007n7’s breath hitched. His heart skipped a beat, pounding in his ears so loudly he almost didn’t hear Elliot speak.

“Uh… thanks for helping me up,” Elliot said, brushing dust from his jacket before looking him in the eyes.

007n7 stiffened under the gaze, his body locked in place. He forced a shaky smile, the corners of his mouth twitching nervously. “Y—Yeah… sure… no problem…” His words trailed off, awkward and unsure, as if saying more might break whatever strange, fragile thing this moment was.

Elliot tilted his head slightly, almost curious. Meanwhile, 007n7 avoided eye contact, his palms sweaty, his entire posture screaming tension.

007n7’s mind reeled the moment Elliot’s face came into full view.

‘Why… why is he here?’ His thoughts tumbled over each other, disoriented and frantic. ‘Was he always in the same school as me? No, that doesn’t make sense. I would’ve remembered him. Unless… unless he reincarnated too?’

But as Elliot’s eyes lingered on him, bright with friendly confusion rather than recognition, that theory cracked apart.

‘No… no, it doesn’t seem like it. He looks just as lost as I am seeing him.’

007n7’s chest tightened, his thoughts spiraling like a storm he couldn’t stop. Every possible explanation clashed in his head until it left him dizzy.

Forcing himself to breathe, he plastered on a shaky, nervous smile, hoping it looked normal enough.

“A—Ah… Well, h—have a good day.” His voice wavered like a thread about to snap.

Elliot blinked, then chuckled lightly. “You too. And, um… try not to crash into anyone else on the way, alright?”

His tone was playful, warm in a way that only made 007n7’s nerves rattle more.

“I—I’ll try,” 007n7 replied quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Elliot tilted his head, his expression softening. “Hey, are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

The question landed like a stone in 007n7’s stomach. He opened his mouth, then hesitated. “… No uh— Just… just trying to find my classroom.”

“Ah, that explains it,” Elliot said with an easy smile. “These halls can be a maze if you’re not used to them. Want me to point you in the right direction?”

007n7’s throat went dry. The kindness in Elliot’s offer stung with a strange familiarity, but it also made him want to run. “N—No, no, it’s fine. I’ll… I’ll figure it out.”

Elliot shrugged, still smiling. “Alright, if you’re sure. But don’t be afraid to ask. People around here aren’t as scary as they look.”

He gave a little wave as he started walking down the hall. “See you around, yeah?”

007n7 stood frozen, watching Elliot’s back retreat into the crowded hallway. His pulse thundered in his ears.

‘Why here? Why him?’

The questions clung to him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

007n7 started to wander through the crowded halls, his bag slung loosely over one shoulder. The sound of chatter, footsteps, and the occasional bell all blended together in a dizzying hum that only made him feel more out of place.

He scanned the numbers above each door, trying to remember which one was his classroom. Room 2A? Or was it 3C? His memory wasn’t helping much today—then again, how could it, after everything he’d been through?

As he turned another corner, he caught sight of a group of students laughing together. Something about them—how they stood, how they smiled—made his stomach twist.

His thoughts began to spiral. ‘If I already met Mafioso… and Elliot,’ he thought uneasily, ‘then who’s next? The other survivors? The other killers?’

He swallowed hard, his palms growing clammy. Just the idea of seeing any of them again—of being reminded of that world—made his heart race.

‘I should avoid seeing Elliot…’ he thought firmly, clutching his bag tighter.

After a few more minutes of aimless walking, he finally spotted a familiar sign over one of the doors: Room 2A. Relief washed over him like cool water.

“Finally,” he muttered, slipping inside.

The classroom was bright, sunlight streaming through wide windows that overlooked the school courtyard. 007n7 made his way to a seat near the window, quietly setting his bag down. He pulled out his notebooks and pen, arranging them neatly on the desk as if order might calm the disarray in his thoughts.

He leaned his elbow on the table and stared out the window, watching the trees sway gently in the breeze. Students passed by outside, laughing, talking, and living ordinary lives.

‘If only it could stay like this,’ he thought.

He sighed softly, turning his gaze to the clock on the wall.

Just a few more hours until lunch.

He could make it that far.

When lunch rolled around, 007n7 was more than ready for a break. His brain felt fried from sitting through morning classes, and his stomach had been growling since the second period. 

He slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped out into the hallway, joining the steady stream of students making their way to the canteen. The chatter and clatter of trays filled the air, the scent of warm food instantly lifting his mood.

The smell of warm food filled the air—fried rice, noodles, soup, and the faint sugary scent of pastries. 007n7 scanned the stalls, his eyes lighting up when he spotted something sweet on display: a sweet caramel frappe topped with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.

Perfect.

He stepped in line, waiting his turn while trying to ignore the noise around him. When it was finally his turn, he smiled faintly at the lady behind the counter.

“One caramel frappe, please.”

But before he could reach for his wallet, someone stepped up beside him.

“Hey, uh—one pizzaburger sandwich and iced tea, please.” Said a familiar voice.

007n7 froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Slowly, he turned his head—and there he was.

Elliot.

The younger boy was standing right next to him, his red varsity jacket unmistakable, chatting casually with the vendor as he waited for his order, his hair slightly messy, as if he’d just come from gym class.

When Elliot noticed him staring, his face lit up with easy familiarity. “Oh—hey! You’re the guy I bumped into this morning, right? Have you found your class?”

“Y-Yeah,” 007n7 stammered, forcing a polite nod. “Just… uh, getting lunch.”

Elliot grinned. “Caramel frappe, huh? Sweet choice.”

007n7 blinked, clutching the drink the vendor handed him. “It’s… comforting,” he replied softly, trying not to sound nervous.

Elliot chuckled, his tone casual and friendly. “I get that. I need something normal today too—classes are brutal.” He lifted his tray, showing the pizzaburger sandwich and iced tea. “Fuel for survival, I guess.”

“R-Right,” 007n7 said, smiling faintly, though his grip on his drink tightened.

They stood side by side for a moment, the silence awkward yet strangely calm. But when someone called Elliot’s name from across the canteen, he turned his head, momentarily distracted.

By the time Elliot turned around, 007n7 was gone.

“Hey, wait!” Elliot called after him, craning his neck to look through the crowd. “I didn’t even get your name…!”

But 007n7 was already halfway down the hall, weaving through students and clutching his drink like it was a lifeline.

He finally slowed down once he reached the school gardens—a quiet, breezy spot lined with trees and trimmed hedges. Finding a shaded corner behind a large tree, 007n7 sat down and placed his sweet caramel frappe beside him.

Taking a slow sip, he let the creamy sweetness wash over his tongue, the taste grounding him, even if just a little.

The sweetness calmed him, though the knot in his stomach remained.

As he stared at the ice melting in his cup, his thoughts began to spiral. ‘I can’t keep bumping into him like this… I need to make sure I have to avoid Elliot in this life so that I won’t be able to bother him!’

He frowned, swirling the straw in his drink. ‘No… I should avoid all of them. I just have to graduate from junior high school. Then skip senior high school. And then college. Then—’

His chest tightened at the next thought. ‘Then I can take care of my son… C00lkidd…’

He sat up straighter, determination flickering in his eyes. “Yeah… If I just stay away from them, I can focus on what really matters.”

A small grin tugged at his lips as he raised his frappe in a mock toast to himself.

“This is a good plan!”

“What’s a good plan?”

The sudden voice snapped 007n7 out of his thoughts.

“Gah!?” He nearly dropped his caramel frappe as something—or rather, someone—obstructed his view. Hanging upside down from a tree branch was a pink-haired girl, grinning at him with unmistakable mischief twinkling in her eyes.

Her hair—messy, glossy, and the exact shade of melted strawberry ice cream—dripped down like syrup under the afternoon light. She wore a cropped dark magenta tank top and loose, wide-leg pants in a deeper blue, the kind of outfit that said, “I don’t care, but I still look good.”

“Eleven Eight Oh Eight?!” 007n7’s thoughts screamed inside his head. ‘When did she get here?!’

She giggled, swinging slightly from the branch. “Aw, you remember me~ That’s cute.”

007n7 blinked up at her, his heart still racing. “Wh-what are you doing up there?”

118o8 tilted her head, still hanging by her knees. “Oh, you know, just hanging around.” She smirked at her own pun before pointing at his drink. “You talking to yourself about a plan or just confessing your love to that frappe?”

“I—It’s not like that!” 007n7 stammered, his face flushing as he tried to shield his cup.

From atop his head, the small spider noob stirred awake, blinking its beady eyes before lazily crawling down 007n7’s shoulder to inspect the intruder.

118o8’s grin widened. “Aww, you brought a friend! You’re full of surprises today, huh?”

007n7 sighed, running a hand through his hair as the spider noob perched on his knee. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day…”

“Good,” 118o8 said playfully, dropping from the branch with catlike grace and landing in front of him. “Keep your reflexes sharp. Besides—” she leaned in, eyes sparkling, “—you looked way too serious. I just had to interrupt.”

007n7 groaned softly, sipping his frappe again to calm himself. “You really haven’t changed at all.”

118o8 winked, placing her hands on her hips. “And you still think too much. So…” she gestured to the space beside him, “mind if I crash your little planning session?”

007n7 glanced at her, sighed, and finally nodded. “Fine. Just… don’t scare me again.”

“No promises~,” she chimed, plopping down beside him with a grin as the spider noob curiously looked at her hair.

118o8 adjusted the ice cream cone hat balanced on her head and flipped a strand of her melted strawberry-pink hair, her grin full of mischief and amusement. She stood up to perch herself comfortably on the tree branch above 007n7, legs swinging as if she had all the time in the world.

“So,” she began in a singsong tone, eyes glinting, “how have you been during summer break?”

007n7 blinked, startled that she even remembered him. “Uh… fine, I guess. Just—uh—mostly stayed home.”

118o8 giggled, the sound as light and teasing as the breeze. “Lame. You should’ve joined me at the arcade sometime! I totally crushed the claw machine records again.”

“That… doesn’t surprise me,” 007n7 said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

Her gaze drifted to the tiny spider noob perched on 007n7’s shoulder, blinking up at her with its beady eyes. “And who’s this little cutie?” she cooed. “Where’d you get it?”

“Oh—uh,” 007n7 stammered, glancing at the creature. “He… kinda just started following me around. I’m… not sure what to name it yet.”

118o8 laughed softly. “That’s so like you. Overthinking even a name.” She leaned closer, pretending to whisper to the spider noob. “Don’t worry, little guy; he’ll figure it out before we all turn old and crusty.”

007n7 groaned. “I’m not that slow.”

118o8 smirked, flipping her hair again. “You sure? ’Cause you seem different lately. More… shy. More distant.” Her playful grin softened, her voice dipping into something gentler. “What happened to you, huh?”

“I…” 007n7 fumbled for words, looking down at his caramel frappe. “I guess I just… changed. Maybe.”

118o8 tilted her head, studying him for a moment before shrugging it off with a teasing smile. “Well, don’t change too much, okay? You’re kind of fun to mess with.”

Before 007n7 could reply, a calm, even voice called from across the garden, “There you guys are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Both of them turned toward the sound.

A calm, antlered figure approached from the path, wearing a loose blue shirt and deep violet pants. Their tousled brown hair framed a face sprinkled with freckles, and beneath the shade of a wide-brimmed hat, their eyes held a soft, serene glow.

118o8 straightened up immediately. “Oh hey, Winsy! Took you long enough!”

226w6 let out a patient sigh, though a small smile curved their lips. “You two always wander off to the strangest corners of the campus. I should’ve guessed you’d be hiding by the trees.”

As they stepped closer, 007n7’s eyes lingered on them—on their calm posture, their steady breathing, and their faint smile.

226w6… I’ve heard that name before, he thought, a twinge of recognition tugging at his chest.

Then, like a light flickering in memory, it clicked.

118o8 had told him once—casually, almost too casually—that 226w6 had died from an illness caused by the radiation of a strange virus called The DUZII.

And yet, here they were.

Smiling. Breathing. Alive.

007n7’s fingers tightened slightly around his frappe cup as a quiet unease crept up his spine.

The rest of lunch passed in an easy blur of chatter and laughter beneath the shade of the garden trees.

118o8 perched cross-legged on a low branch, swinging her legs while sipping on a juice box she’d mysteriously produced from nowhere. “I swear, this school’s food got worse,” she groaned dramatically. “Like, how do you mess up fries?”

226w6 sat calmly beside 007n7 on the grass, their hands resting neatly on their knees. “You still ate all of them,” they remarked with a faint smile.

“That’s not the point!” 118o8 shot back, flicking a crumb in their direction.

007n7 couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. For the first time that day, he didn’t feel completely on edge. It almost felt… normal. Like this was just another peaceful afternoon, without killers, without Purgatory—just him, two classmates, and the lazy warmth of the sun.

They spent the rest of lunch talking about their favorite shows, weird classmates, and random rumors that circulated through the school halls.

When the bell rang, all three groaned in unison.

“Back to class,” 226w6 said with a sigh, dusting off their pants as they stood up.

“Let’s hang out again later!” 118o8 grinned, hopping down from the branch.

007n7 smiled faintly. “Sure.”

He waved goodbye before heading back to class, slipping into his seat by the window just as the teacher began the lesson. The hours dragged on—scribbled notes, muffled yawns, and the sound of chalk against the board.

By the time the final bell rang, the afternoon sun had mellowed into a soft golden hue.

As 007n7 stepped out of the classroom, he spotted 118o8 and 226w6 waiting by the gates.

“There you are, mister quiet!” 118o8 called out, waving both hands.

They hung out for a bit near the school courtyard, chatting about random things and joking around. 007n7 found himself relaxing again, almost forgetting the strange dread that lingered in the back of his mind.

Eventually, as the sky began to shift to orange, 007n7 decided it was time to head home.

“See you guys tomorrow,” he said, giving a small wave.

“Take care!” 226w6 replied warmly.

“Don’t get lost on the way home!” 118o8 teased with a wink.

007n7 laughed lightly before turning to leave—only to stop short when he noticed a familiar figure by the park’s edge.

Elliot.

He was standing beneath a tall tree, stretching upward with one arm while a distressed meow came from above. A small cat was perched precariously on one of the higher branches, tail puffed up in fear.

Elliot looked up helplessly, then noticed 007n7. His face brightened immediately.

“Oh! Hey!” he called, waving enthusiastically. “You’re just in time! Can you help me out?”

007n7 froze. His stomach dropped.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me…’

But when he saw the cat trembling, his shoulders slumped in reluctant defeat.

“... Fine,” he muttered under his breath before approaching.

He tried not to look directly at Elliot as they worked together—Elliot holding the base of the tree steady while 007n7 carefully climbed up. After a few awkward moments and a near slip, 007n7 managed to reach the frightened cat, coaxing it gently until it finally let him carry it down.

Once both feet touched the ground again, Elliot grinned wide, brushing off his jacket. “You’re a lifesaver, thanks! Poor little guy probably chased a bird or something.”

007n7 gave a nervous laugh, petting the cat lightly before setting it down. “Y-Yeah… no problem.”

Elliot smiled warmly at him—so open, so genuinely kind that it made 007n7’s chest tighten.

As Elliot turned to make sure the cat was safe, 007n7 exhaled quietly before bolting away again.

First Mafioso. Then 118o8. Then 226w6. And now… him again.

He wasn’t sure if it was fate or bad luck—but one thing was certain.

The past wasn’t staying buried.

Chapter Text

“You know, you’ve been running away and avoiding us a lot lately.”

The familiar clink of a coin flipping through the air cut through the stillness.

007n7 flinched. His head snapped toward the sound—and there he was.

Chance.

He was flipping his signature coin lazily, the metallic glint catching 007n7’s eyes every few seconds.

“O-Oh… Chance…” 007n7 stammered, quickly sitting up from where he’d been dangling his feet over the edge of the dock. “How long have you been there…?”

Chance smiled lightly, his voice smooth as the waves lapping against the wooden posts. “Long enough to notice you talking to yourself again.”

007n7 felt heat crawl up his neck. “I—I wasn’t talking to myself!” he said too quickly, eyes darting toward the horizon.

The sea was calm, small waves breaking gently on the shore—a peaceful, endless blue that contrasted sharply with the turmoil in his chest. “I was thinking…”

Chance let out a soft chuckle and walked over, stopping beside him to watch the water. “You always come here when something’s bothering you, huh?” He tossed the coin again, catching it effortlessly without looking. “It’s kinda your thing.”

“I… guess,” 007n7 mumbled, staring down at his reflection in the water. The little Spider Noob crawled out from his hair, perching quietly on his shoulder as if to listen in.

Chance smiled, hands sliding into his pockets. “You should relax a bit. You’ve been acting like everyone’s out to get you.”

007n7 forced a small laugh, one that sounded more nervous than amused. “I’m fine, really. Just… thinking.”

Chance tilted his head, studying him with mild curiosity behind those dark shades. “You always say that.” He flipped the coin again, catching it with a soft clink. “You’re a weird one, 007n7. Quiet, awkward—but I dunno, not bad company.”

That made 007n7 blink, unsure how to respond. Compliments—especially from Chance—weren’t something he was used to...

Chance grinned when he didn’t answer. “See? You’re thinking again. Relax, man.” He gave 007n7 a playful nudge with his elbow. “Not everyone hates you, you know.”

007n7 tried to smile, though it came out small and uncertain. “... I’ll try to remember that.”

Chance turned back to the ocean, coin dancing in the fading light. “Good. ’Cause one day, you’ll run out of places to hide—and by then, you’ll wish you didn’t waste all that time being scared.”

The words hung in the air, soft but heavy, as the waves whispered against the shore.

Chance sat down at the edge of the dock, and 007n7 followed, the wooden planks creaking softly beneath their weight.

The ocean stretched endlessly ahead—calm, reflective, and tinged with the faint orange of the never-ending moon. The coin in Chance’s hand stilled for once, resting between his fingers.

“You know,” Chance began after a long pause, his tone softer than usual, “people think I’ve got it easy. The rich guy with the casino, living the dream, right?” He gave a short laugh—light but empty. “They don’t see what’s behind that…”

007n7 glanced at him, quiet and attentive. The Spider Noob on his shoulder tilted its tiny head, as if listening too.

Chance leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “My parents… they were always there. Always watching. Every move, every decision, every little thing I did. They said it was because they cared—‘We just want what’s best for you, Chance,’ they’d say—but it never felt that way…” 

He flicked the coin absently, catching it before it could fall. “It felt like I was trapped in a glass box. They’d hand me everything but never let me breathe.”

007n7 stayed quiet, the rhythmic crash of waves filling the space between them.

“When they handed me the casino,” Chance continued, “they told me it was my ‘responsibility.’ But I didn’t know the first thing about running it. I never listened when they talked about business, because… well, what was the point? They were just going to tell me what to do anyway.” 

He gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “So, I just… didn’t do much. Gambled at my own casino, lounged around, wasted time. It was easier that way.”

His voice faltered slightly. “And whenever I screwed up, they’d just swoop in and fix it. No consequences. No lessons. Just… disappointment. Over and over again.”

007n7 looked down at the rippling water, his reflection broken by each wave. He could see the exhaustion in Chance’s voice—the kind that came from being caged, not physically, but emotionally.

“I kept falling into bad crowds,” Chance went on, his tone now quieter. “Did stupid things, hung out with people who liked trouble. Maybe I thought if I messed up badly enough, they’d finally give up on me.” 

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “But they never did. They just kept watching. Always watching...”

A silence lingered. Then, 007n7 spoke.

“… That sounds suffocating,” he said softly. “Having people care about you, but… not really listening to what you need.”

Chance glanced at him, surprised at the empathy in his tone.

007n7 hugged his knees closer. “You’re not wrong for feeling trapped, Chance. You just… wanted to live your own way, right? To make your own mistakes?”

Chance let out a slow breath, nodding faintly.

“I think…” 007n7 continued, “you’re doing what you can... Even if it’s messy, even if it’s not perfect. Maybe you can still learn how to run that casino your way—without them hovering.”

Chance blinked, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Heh. You make it sound easy.”

007n7 gave a faint shrug. “It’s not. But… maybe it’s worth trying?”

Chance chuckled quietly, leaning back on his hands. “You know, you’re not as cold as everyone says.”

007n7 looked away, embarrassed, his Spider Noob poking his cheek as if teasing him for blushing.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. 

Just the sound of the sea, the glint of the coin, and a quiet understanding that maybe—just maybe—not everyone in this purgatory was against him.

Chance’s coin glimmered faintly in the evening light as it spun one last time between his fingers before falling still. The waves below lapped quietly against the dock, carrying the hush of the sea.

“I… may be a hypocrite for saying something like this… but…”

007n7 watched the water, his expression calm but thoughtful. Then, after a moment, he said quietly—almost like he wasn’t sure if he wanted Chance to hear…

“Freedom isn’t something people give you, Chance. It’s something you decide to take—no matter who’s watching.”

Chance looked at him, the words sinking deeper than he expected.

007n7 continued, his tone gentle but firm.

“If you wait for permission to live your life, you’ll spend forever waiting. So… stop asking. Just start living it.”

The air seemed still for a moment, the ocean’s rhythm the only sound between them.

Chance stared at 007n7—this quiet, awkward ex-hacker who somehow said something that hit harder than anything his parents ever did.

Then, slowly, he smiled. A real one this time.

“… You’ve got a point, Sev,” he said, flipping the coin one more time—this time, not to decide anything, but just to watch it catch the light.

Chance chuckled softly, catching his coin midair before it could fall into the water. “You know, for someone who’s barely seen by the group, you sure know how to hit where it hurts,” he said with a teasing grin.

007n7 blinked, flustered. “I—I wasn’t trying to hit anything!” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… said what I thought.”

“Yeah, well,” Chance leaned back on his palms, eyes on the horizon, “maybe you should talk more often. You might accidentally make people better.”

007n7 huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That’s not really my thing…”

“Then what is your thing?” Chance asked, tone playful.

007n7 thought for a moment, his little yellow Spider Noob crawling from his shoulder to his sleeve. “... Avoiding trouble,” he said at last.

Chance snorted. “Too late for that, buddy. You met me.”

That earned a faint smile from 007n7. For the first time that day, the tension in his shoulders eased. 

The two of them sat quietly after that—just an ex-hacker and a gambler, watching the moonlight ripple across the water, letting the calm waves carry their silence.

The sharp tap of chalk against the board pulled 007n7 back to reality.

He blinked, his memory fading as the sound of his classmates and the hum of the fan filled his ears. ‘Huh… what a nice dream…’

007n7 stretched in his seat and looked up. A math problem stood written neatly on the board.

“007n7?” the teacher called, her warm tone breaking through the haze. “Would you mind answering this one for me?”

Startled, 007n7 straightened in his seat. “Ah—yes, ma’am!” He rose and scanned the problem written on the board.

A ball is thrown upward with an initial velocity of 20 m/s. Using the formula ℎ = 𝑣𝑖𝑡 − 1/2𝑔𝑡², where 𝑔 = 9.8 𝑚/𝑠², find the maximum height the ball will reach.

007n7 stared for a moment, then picked up the chalk. “At maximum height,” he began softly, “the velocity becomes zero.”

Scribble, scribble…

007n7 turned back to the teacher. “The ball reaches a maximum height of 20.4 meters, ma’am.”

The teacher’s face brightened with approval. “Excellent work, 007n7! You explained it perfectly.”

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he sat back down as the class buzzed with quiet chatter. Time passed in a blur, and before long, the bell rang—its sound carrying the promise of freedom.

“Alright, class,” the teacher said cheerfully, clasping her hands together. “That’s it for today! Enjoy your weekend, and please, no one forget your homework this time!”

The students laughed as they began to pack their things.

007n7 slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to leave—until he noticed his teacher struggling to carry a tall stack of test papers.

Without thinking, he stepped forward. “Let me help you with those, ma’am.”

She blinked in pleasant surprise before smiling. “Oh, that’s very kind of you, 007n7. Thank you.”

Together, they walked down the quiet hallway toward the faculty room.

“You’ve been doing really well lately,” she said kindly as they walked. “I can tell you’ve been studying hard. Keep it up, alright?”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Ah, thank you, ma’am. I just… try my best.”

“I can see that,” she chuckled softly. “You’re a smart one—don’t sell yourself short!”

Once inside the faculty room, the teacher placed the stack of papers down with a tired sigh. 007n7 followed quietly, setting the rest of the pile beside her desk.

As he looked around, his eyes landed on a set of printed exam sheets scattered across another table. The bold header read: “College Entrance Mathematics Examination.”

Curiosity tugged at him. One question in particular caught his eye:

A factory produces light bulbs, and the probability that a bulb is defective is 0.03. If 100 bulbs are randomly chosen, find the probability that exactly 2 are defective.

007n7 blinked once. “Binomial probability,” he muttered under his breath.

Scribble, scribble…

He wrote the final answer neatly: “There’s a 24.5%, or at least somewhere around 20% chance that exactly two bulbs are defective.”

When he turned, the teacher was staring, her mouth slightly open. “007n7… that’s a college-level probability problem.”

He tilted his head, almost shyly. “Oh. I just… thought it looked interesting…”

The teacher laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Interesting? Most students your age would’ve avoided that question like the plague! You really have a knack for math, don’t you?”

He shrugged modestly, his eyes glancing toward the stack of junior high textbooks. “I just like solving things ahead of time. Makes it easier later.”

Her brows furrowed in thought, still amazed. “Honestly, with how quick you process things, I wouldn’t be surprised if you skipped a few grades someday.”

007n7 gave a small smile, hands in his pockets. “Maybe. If I finish junior high fast enough, I could… go straight to college?”

The teacher chuckled warmly. “Well, with your talent, I wouldn’t doubt it. But one step at a time, alright?”

He nodded, his smile soft but distant. “Yeah… one step at a time.”

They continued chatting lightly as they organized the test papers, the late afternoon sun filtering through the window—soft, golden, and full of quiet promise.

…

007n7 walked down the school hallway, the steady rhythm of his footsteps matching the quiet hum of his thoughts.

‘If I can just ace every test this quarter… maybe I can convince them? The teachers, the higher-ups… even my parents. I can probably skip straight to college. I hope I can…’

“For C00lkidd…”

He exhaled softly, lost in his determination—until he heard rapid footsteps pounding against the floor.

Before he could react properly, someone came sprinting around the corner. Instinct kicked in; 007n7 sidestepped quickly, though a bit clumsily. The other student tried to stop but lost balance, tripping and crashing onto the floor with a loud thud.

“Ah—!”

007n7 froze for a moment before rushing over, his heart jumping to his throat.

When his eyes caught sight of the red varsity jacket, his breath hitched.

‘Oh no…. him again?’

He crouched down immediately, extending his hand just like before. “A-Are you okay??”

The boy groaned, rubbing the back of his head as he sat up. His bright eyes blinked up at 007n7—and then widened in faint recognition.

“Oh! It’s you again!” he said with a sheepish laugh, the corners of his mouth curling into a nervous grin. “I’m really sorry about that!”

007n7 blinked, his pulse still racing from the near collision.

And just like that—history had a funny way of repeating itself.

Elliot blinked up at him, cheeks flushed as 007n7 helped him to his feet.

“Thanks,” Elliot said, brushing off his jacket with a small laugh. “I really need to stop running in the hallways.”

007n7 offered a polite nod, still holding onto his arm to make sure he was steady. “It’s fine. Just… be careful next time.”

Elliot grinned sheepishly before extending a hand. “I’m Elliot, by the way! What’s your name?”

“... 007n7,” he replied, shaking his hand briefly. His voice was calm, polite—carefully neutral.

‘Okay, introductions done. Time to go. Lunch. Peace and quiet. Maybe the library.’

Elliot’s smile, however, was bright and disarming. “Nice to meet you, 007n7! Are you heading to lunch too?”

“Uh—” 007n7 started, but before he could stop himself, the words slipped out. “Do you… want to grab lunch together?”

He froze.

‘... Why did I just say that? Now he might think that I-’

Elliot’s eyes practically sparkled. “Really? Sure!” he beamed, excitement radiating from him like sunlight.

007n7 blinked, his internal monologue screaming.

‘… Was he always like this?!’

But when Elliot smiled that brightly again, 007n7 found it hard to regret it entirely.

The two of them walked side by side down the hallway, the faint chatter of other students filling the air. 

Elliot’s red varsity jacket caught the sunlight through the windows, making him stand out like he always did. 

Meanwhile, 007n7 kept his head slightly lowered, clutching his bag strap and trying very hard not to overthink.

Perched snugly in his hair, the tiny Spider Noob peeked out curiously, its little legs twitching as it looked at the tall, cheerful senior beside its host.

“So, you’re not from my batch, huh?” Elliot asked with a grin, glancing over. “What grade are you in? I’ve seen you around a few times.”

007n7 shrugs lightly. “Uhh… Grade ten.”

Elliot beamed. “Man, you look way smarter than that though. You’ve got that… top-of-the-class kind of vibe.”

‘Please stop talking to me before I combust,’ 007n7 thought, his polite smile twitching at the corners. “Uh, thanks.”

Elliot chuckled, completely oblivious to 007n7’s internal panic. “So, what do you usually eat for lunch? I’m starving!”

“I… was just going to grab something quick,” 007n7 said, glancing away. “Maybe bread or something small.”

Elliot gasped dramatically. “Bread? That’s it?” He shook his head with mock disapproval. “No way. You’re eating something good today. My treat!”

007n7 blinked, startled. “Wait—what? No, you don’t have to—”

“Too late!” Elliot laughed and grabbed 007n7’s hand, walking with that confident, easy stride. “Besides, my dad owns a pizzeria. I’m practically raised on free food. I think I can afford a cafeteria lunch for a friend!”

‘F-Friend?!’ 007n7’s heart skipped. He felt the Spider Noob in his hair shift as if reacting to his sudden jolt of panic. ‘Oh no. Oh no. He said friend.’

When they reached the cafeteria, Elliot immediately got in line and pointed at the menu. “Two meal sets and two caramel frappes, please!”

007n7 opened his mouth to protest again but was cut off when Elliot turned to him with a warm grin. “C’mon, you’ll like this. You look like a caramel guy!”

“… You really don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Elliot winked. “Call it my way of saying thanks for saving me from total hallway humiliation!”

007n7 sighed softly but nodded, accepting the tray Elliot handed him. “... Alright. Just this once...”

“Awesome!” Elliot’s grin grew even wider. “See? You’re easy to get along with.”

‘Easy to—? No. No, I’m not!’ 007n7 screamed internally, clutching his drink a little too tightly.

Elliot’s hand found 007n7’s again before the younger could even react.

“C’mon!” Elliot said brightly, his grip warm and confident. “The cafeteria’s way too noisy. Let’s eat somewhere nicer.”

Before 007n7 could form a protest, he was already being led outside—Elliot half-dragging him down the sunlit path toward a quiet area near the campus gardens. They found an empty bench shaded by tall trees, the breeze carrying the faint scent of grass and food.

Elliot placed the tray and drinks neatly on the bench beside them. “Perfect spot,” he said with satisfaction. “You don’t mind sitting here, right?”

007n7 shook his head, adjusting his hair a little so the tiny Spider Noob hiding in it wouldn’t be seen. “It’s fine,” he murmured, sitting down carefully.

But just as Elliot was about to open his food, a cheerful voice rang out across the path.

“Sevvy!”

007n7 froze. His stomach dropped at the sound of that nickname.

Turning his head, he spotted 118o8 skipping toward them, waving both arms exaggeratedly, her pink, melted ice-cream hair bouncing with each step. Beside her was 226w6, who gave a small, polite wave, their freckled face lighting up with quiet warmth.

118o8’s grin faltered the moment her eyes landed on Elliot.

Her gaze darted from their clasped hands to the food beside them and then to Elliot’s too-charming smile.

“… And who’s this?” she asked, her tone sing-song but suspicious.

Elliot, ever polite, released 007n7’s hand and flashed her a grin. “Elliot. Grade twelve. Nice to meet you!”

118o8 crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Uh-huh. Sure. And what are you doing with my best friend?”

“Having lunch,” Elliot replied simply, smile never fading.

118o8 huffed, stepping closer before looping her arm around 007n7’s. “Well, we were supposed to hang out today, right, Sevvy?”

‘Oh no,’ 007n7 thought, panic bubbling in his chest.

Elliot blinked, then chuckled lightly. “Is that so?” he said, tugging gently on 007n7’s other arm. “Guess I’ll just have to share his time, then.”

And just like that—tug.

118o8’s pout deepened as she pulled back, refusing to let go. “No way! You’ve had him long enough!”

Tug.

Elliot kept smiling, though his eyes glinted with playful challenge. “You’re being a little greedy, don’t you think?”

“Takes one to know one, rich boy!”

“Hey, I paid for lunch. That should count for something.”

“Friendship isn’t bought with food!”

“It was good food, though!”

As the two continued their smiling, passive-aggressive tug-of-war, 007n7 stood in the middle—arms stretched out like a human rope, his brain short-circuiting.

‘Why is this happening? WHY is this happening? WHY IS THIS—’

“Guys, please! You’re going to pull him apart!” 226w6 hurried over, eyes wide in mild panic.

They gently pried both of them off 007n7, who immediately slumped forward, shoulders dropping in relief.

The Spider Noob peeked out from his hair, tilting its little head as if sighing along with him.

118o8 huffed but relented, stepping aside with a stubborn pout, while Elliot scratched his cheek sheepishly.

“Sorry,” Elliot said, chuckling. “Didn’t mean to cause drama...”

“You did…” 118o8 muttered under her breath, crossing her arms again.

226w6 smiled softly. “Maybe… we can all sit and share the food instead?”

007n7 groaned quietly but nodded, sinking onto the bench as the others began to settle in around him—Elliot on one side, 118o8 on the other, and 226w6 perched nearby with a calm expression that said they’d seen this kind of chaos before.

For the rest of lunch, 007n7 sat between his friends, silently sipping his caramel frappe and wondering how his peaceful afternoon had turned into… this.

But despite his inner turmoil, a small, unbidden smile tugged at his lips.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad lunch after all…

The last bell of the day rang through the halls, and 007n7 was one of the first out the door. The weight of exams and deadlines had finally lifted, and for the first time in weeks, his steps felt lighter.

He let out a deep sigh, stretching his arms as he walked past the gate. The late afternoon sun bathed the street in a warm glow, cicadas humming somewhere in the distance. 

‘Finally… weekend.’

He was already thinking about what to do first—sleep in, maybe play a game or two—when a voice broke through his thoughts.

“Boo!”

“Ah—?!” 007n7 flinched so hard he nearly dropped his bag. “Wha—Elliot!” he shouted, spinning around.

Behind him stood Elliot, grinning from ear to ear, clearly trying—and failing—to hide his laughter. “Oh man, that was perfect! You should’ve seen your face!”

007n7 scowled, pressing a hand over his chest. “You scared me half to death! What are you even doing here?”

Elliot shrugged innocently, still smiling. “I was waiting for you. I thought we could walk home together. You know—celebrate the end of the week.”

007n7 blinked, still catching his breath. “By giving me a heart attack???”

Elliot chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, it worked, didn’t it? You’re awake now.”

007n7 rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “You’re ridiculous...”

“I prefer fun, actually,” Elliot said with a playful grin, falling into step beside him. “Besides, it’s the weekend. You should smile more!”

“I was smiling,” 007n7 said dryly. “Until someone tried to murder me with surprise.”

Elliot laughed again, light and carefree. “Okay, okay, no more scares. Promise.”

They walked together under the fading sunlight, talking about their weekend plans—Elliot mentioned maybe going to the arcade, while 007n7 said he’d probably just catch up on sleep.

When they reached the intersection where their paths split, Elliot slowed down. “Hey, uh…” He rubbed his neck again, a faint blush touching his cheeks. “Do you, um… wanna exchange numbers? You know, in case we want to hang out this weekend?”

007n7 blinked, surprised and against the idea. ‘No, I don’t want to-’ 

“Sure! Why not?” 007n7, polite as ever, smiled at Elliot. ‘GODDAMNIT—’

They swapped phones, typing their contacts in. Elliot smiled softly as he handed 007n7’s phone back. “Now you can’t escape me,” he joked lightly, his tone playful but warm.

007n7 laughed. “I’ll block you if you scare me again.”

“Fair trade,” Elliot said, still smiling.

They lingered for a moment, neither quite ready to part, before 007n7 gave a small wave. “See you tomorrow, maybe…?”

“Definitely!” Elliot said, his grin bright and a little too fond.

As 007n7 walked away, he didn’t notice the way Elliot’s gaze lingered—soft, intent, like he was already planning what to text first.

…

‘TOMORROW??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN TOMORROW, 007N7???’

That was the first thought that slammed into 007n7’s mind the moment he realized what he’d just said to Elliot. 

His voice echoed in his head like a siren as he trudged down the familiar sidewalk, the orange glow of the setting sun stretching his shadow long across the pavement.

He clutched his bag tightly, walking faster than usual, his face a mixture of disbelief and regret. “What was that?! ‘See you tomorrow, maybe’? Why—why would I say that??” he muttered aloud, half to himself and half to the universe that clearly had it out for him.

A few heads turned from nearby tricycle drivers and students heading home, but 007n7 didn’t care. His brain was too busy spiraling.

He groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “We were supposed to be avoiding him, not—whatever that was! He literally scared me half to death five minutes ago! And now we’re exchanging numbers and making weekend plans??”

The image of Elliot’s smile flashed in his mind—bright, teasing, with that small glint of mischief in his eyes. 007n7 irks at the memory in agony, and that only made him groan louder. “No, no, no, don’t you start doing that. He’s just being friendly… He’s—he’s always like that. Yeah. Friendly... Harmless…”

He sighed again, dragging his feet as he turned a corner toward home. “Not like the person I knew…”

A small, ticklish sensation brushed against his scalp, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Hey—hey! Nooby, Webby—is that you?” he said, stopping in his tracks. Sure enough, a tiny spider with a blocky, almost comical appearance peeked out from his hair and started crawling down to his shoulder.

“You little Spoob, have you been up there all day?” 007n7 asked, raising a brow as Spider Noob stopped to wave a single leg in greeting.

007n7 still doesn’t know what to name the Spider Noob

The sight made him exhale a laugh, though his voice still carried a hint of stress. “You could’ve helped me, you know. Said something. Bit him or something.”

Spider Noob tilted its little head, clearly unimpressed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you can’t talk,” 007n7 said, shrugging, “but still—you could’ve done something! He scared me! Like a full-on ‘boo!’—and I screamed! Out loud!”

The spider tapped its front legs against his shoulder, almost like a slow clap.

“Don’t you start with that sarcasm,” 007n7 huffed. “I’m serious! I looked like an idiot. He was laughing, too, and I—” he paused, his expression faltering. “And I laughed with him…”

For a moment, he just stood there, lips pressed into a thin line.

“… You think I’m being dramatic, don’t you?”

Spider Noob did a small tilt again, its tiny body bobbing slightly, like a shrug.

007n7 let out a defeated sigh. “Yeah. Maybe I am. But it’s weird, okay? I was supposed to be keeping my distance. After everything that’s happened, the last thing I should be doing is getting close to him again.”

He kicked a small rock along the path, watching it bounce off the curb. “But then he smiles like that—and I forget why I was even trying to avoid him in the first place.”

Spider Noob crawled up to his collar, settling like a tiny fuzzy guard.

“Don’t look at me like that,” 007n7 muttered, noticing its stare. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘Maybe you like him.’ Well, no. I don’t. I don’t! He’s just… he’s just Elliot. annoying, friendly, unpredictable Elliot.”

He tugged at his jacket zipper, eyes fixed on the fading horizon.

“… But he’s nice sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “Like, really nice…”

Spider Noob gave a slow wave of its little leg again.

007n7 frowned. “No. Don’t you dare ship us.”

He sighed again, this time softer, his tone losing some of its panic. “Whatever. It’s just one weekend. We’ll hang out, maybe grab food or play something, and that’s it. Nothing weird. Nothing suspicious… Totally normal…”

Spider Noob tilted its head again.

“Okay, fine,” 007n7 muttered, “maybe slightly suspicious. But not that kind of suspicious.”

He resumed walking, his steps slower, thoughts still buzzing.

The sun had nearly set now, painting the sky in hues of purple and pink. The air smelled faintly of rain, and the streetlights flickered on one by one.

007n7 gave Spider Noob a small smile as it curled up contentedly on his shoulder. “You know what, little dude? Maybe tomorrow won’t be so bad.”

He paused, frowning. “Unless he tries to scare me again. Then I’m blocking his number.”

The spider twitched one leg like a nod.

“Good,” 007n7 said, exhaling. “At least someone’s on my side.”

“On your side, huh?”

The unfamiliar voice made 007n7 freeze.

He barely had time to turn his head before a gloved hand shot out from behind, pressing a cloth firmly over his mouth and nose. A sharp, chemical scent hit him instantly—sweet, sharp, and heavy.

“Mmph?!—” 007n7 tried to pull away, his muffled protests lost against the cloth. Panic jolted through his veins as he struggled, elbows jerking back and legs kicking wildly against the attacker.

Spider Noob chirped in alarm, leaping from his shoulder to the attacker’s sleeve, tiny legs scratching desperately—but the kidnapper shook it off, sending the little creature tumbling into the grass.

007n7’s vision blurred. The world tilted. Streetlights stretched into long streaks of color as his limbs grew heavy and weak.

“Shhh,” the voice whispered close to his ear, low and calm. “Don’t fight it. It’s just a little trip we’re taking.”

Spider Noob, trembling, crawled toward his unconscious owner, chirping helplessly as a black van door slammed shut and drove off into the night.

The last thing 007n7 saw before his eyes closed was a hooded figure—before everything went dark…

Cold metal pressed against 007n7’s back as he stirred awake. His head was pounding at him…

When his eyes fluttered open, all he saw were steel bars and flickering fluorescent lights that buzzed overhead.

He sat up too quickly, wincing as dizziness washed over him. His hands gripped the cage bars—thick, rusted, and unyielding. His throat felt dry. There were others too—other cages, other kids, some asleep, some quietly crying, some staring at the floor with hollow eyes.

‘Where… where am I?’

Panic clawed at his chest. He tugged at the lock and tried to wedge his fingers between the bars, but they didn’t budge. His breathing quickened as his thoughts spiraled.

‘Think, 007n7. You’ve escaped worse. You’ve hacked out of systems tighter than this—no, no, this isn’t code. This is real. Physical. You can’t debug your way out of a cage!’

He pressed his forehead against the cold bars, trying to calm himself, when a whisper broke through the tense silence.

“Hey.”

A small poke on his arm made him jolt violently.

‘Not again!’ he thought, whipping his head to the side.

Inside his cage was another boy who sat cross-legged, his head tilted curiously. He had an immaculate white shirt that looked far too fancy for this grim place. 

Despite the situation, he wore a grin that could only belong to someone too comfortable in chaos.

“Who…?” 007n7 managed to whisper, voice hoarse.

The boy’s grin widened. “You’re funny,” he said quietly, chuckling like they were at a café instead of in a cage.

007n7 blinked. ‘Funny?’ He was still half-panicking, half-processing, and this kid was laughing?

“What’s funny?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“You, waking up like that—eyes wide, like you just saw a ghost,” the boy teased softly, leaning closer to the bars. “Relax. Panicking won’t get you out any faster.”

‘Relax?’ 007n7’s heart was still pounding against his ribs. ‘How can he say that so easily?’

Still, he tried to steady his voice. “Right... Easy for you to say. You’ve probably been here longer.”

“Maybe I have,” the boy replied with a wink. “Or maybe I just know how to make friends with trouble.”

007n7 frowned, trying to study him through the dim light. There was something strangely familiar about his tone—confident, playful, and dangerously casual. 

But his mind was too foggy to connect the dots.

‘Who is this guy?’ 007n7 wondered, fingers tightening on the bars. ‘And what kind of place did we end up in…?’

007n7 blinked again, trying to adjust to the dim light as the boy beside him shifted closer.

The boy extended his hand with an easy smile, his tone smooth and casual despite the grim surroundings. “Chance,” he said smoothly, voice calm and oddly reassuring despite their situation. “That’s my name. Don’t ask why it’s like that.”

He gave a small, charming smile—the kind that seemed to disarm people instantly. “Please.”

For a second, 007n7 just stared at the offered hand. His brain stuttered, the words echoing in his head like a bad signal.

‘...’

Then it hit him.

‘CHANCE?!?!’

His entire mind blue-screened.

He froze, mouth slightly open, eyes wide as his internal system crashed spectacularly. His thoughts scattered into static while his body refused to move.

Chance tilted his head with a soft laugh. “You okay there, friend?”

‘No, I am not okay,’ 007n7 screamed internally, frozen stiff. ‘Out of all people—it just had to be him?!’

After several long, agonizing minutes of staring like a broken robot, 007n7 finally moved.

His hand—trembling slightly—reached out and shook Chance’s. “... 007n7,” he said softly, his voice low and stiff.

Chance’s grin brightened. “007n7, huh? That’s a cool name—it kinda sounds like a secret agent or something!”

“... Yeah,” 007n7 muttered, trying not to sound too awkward. ‘Please stop talking, please stop talking—’

But Chance didn’t stop. His curiosity seemed endless.

“So, what’s your deal? You from around here? You look way too calm for someone who just woke up in a cage.”

“I—I wouldn’t say that…” 007n7 said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… trying to process.”

Chance chuckled, leaning back against the bars. “Fair. You don’t strike me as the panicky type anyway. You got that quiet, mysterious vibe.”

‘Quiet, mysterious, and internally screaming,’ 007n7 thought, forcing an awkward smile.

Before Chance could say anything else, the metallic door at the far end of the room groaned open.

Heavy boots clanked against the concrete floor. Two masked figures in dark uniforms walked in, flashlights in hand. They scanned each cage slowly, inspecting the frightened children one by one.

One of them stopped near the bars where 007n7 and Chance were. “Next batch looks stable,” the guard muttered in a low, distorted voice. “The boss wants the smart ones and the strong ones separated before sunrise.”

The other grunted in reply, unlocking a clipboard from his belt. “This one looks promising,” he said, pointing at 007n7. “That one too,” he added, nodding toward Chance.

007n7’s stomach dropped.

‘Promising—for what?!’ he thought, panic beginning to climb up his throat.

Chance, on the other hand, only gave a strained, almost challenging smile, whispering to 007n7 once the guards moved to the next cage.

“Guess we’re special, huh?”

‘Yeah,’ 007n7 thought grimly with a nod. ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.’

007n7’s fingers curled around the cold metal bars, knuckles pale under the dim, flickering light. The guards’ boots echoed down the concrete hall—heavy, deliberate, each step another reminder of how trapped they were.

A muffled sob came from a nearby cage, followed by the frantic clatter of someone shaking their bars until the sound faded into hopeless silence.

On the outside, his expression didn’t waver. His breathing was steady. His eyes tracked the guards carefully, counting their steps, their pauses, and their glances.

Inside, 007n7’s mind spiraled.

‘No. No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.’

‘I was just walking home—just walking home. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even look at anyone weird, right? Did I?’

His chest tightened, breath catching in short bursts. ‘What did I do? Why am I here? Who are these people?’

His eyes darted across the room—the cages, the flickering lights, the crying kids, the smell of rust and damp concrete. Every detail hit him like a punch to the gut. ‘This looks like one of those places from the news. No… worse.’

‘What do they want from us? Money? Ransom? Experiments?’ The word alone made his stomach twist. ‘No—no, stop thinking like that, stop—focus—focus.’

He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. His palms were slick with sweat. ‘Okay, okay, maybe this is a dream. Maybe I hit my head. Yeah, maybe I fell asleep watching those conspiracy videos again, and this is my brain’s idea of humor. Haha. Real funny.’

Beside him, Chance shifted, trying to whisper without shaking too much. “Hey, are you good? You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m thinking,” 007n7 murmured. His voice was calm—almost too calm.

Chance tried for a weak grin. “You thinkin’ of a way out, or thinkin’ of your will?”

“Both,” 007n7 said flatly.

That shut Chance up for a second.

The guards reached the last cage and scribbled on a clipboard before turning toward the exit. “Truck leaves in twenty. Make sure they’re still breathing when we come back,” one said.

When the metal door clanged shut, 007n7 exhaled slowly through his nose. His heartbeat was pounding, but his face stayed composed.

Chance turned to him. “Okay, brainiac, what now?”

007n7’s eyes flicked to the hinges, the lock, and the small screws on the latch. Every detail was a clue. Every second was a calculation. 

He shifted slightly, testing the metal bars—sturdy, but not uniform. The base near the wall vibrated differently. Hollow.

Good. That’s something.

He looked down, noticing the faint layer of rust coating the lower frame. Corrosion. Weak point.

He crouched quietly and brushed the dirt aside, fingers running over the weak joint. Then his eyes darted around the cell—nothing useful, just stone, dust, and a bolt from a previous repair sticking out of the corner.

Perfect.

He grabbed it, twisted until it came loose with a faint snap, and held it like a small tool. “We’re not waiting for them to come back,” he said calmly.

Chance blinked. “You’re gonna pick the lock? With that?”

007n7 didn’t answer. He knelt by the cage door, inserting the bent bolt into the padlock. His hands were steady despite the adrenaline flooding through him. Years of tinkering, coding, and building useless gadgets suddenly didn’t feel so useless.

Click.

Nothing.

He adjusted the angle, listening closely this time—feeling the subtle give inside the mechanism. Another faint turn. Another soft click.

Then—click.

The lock opened.

Chance’s eyes went wide. “You… actually did it?”

007n7 didn’t look up. “Did you think I was bluffing?”

Chance smirked despite himself. “Kinda, yeah.”

007n7 pushed the door open slowly, wincing at the squeak. He froze. Silence... Then a faint drip of water from the pipes overhead. 

Safe—for now.

He stood, straightening his jacket like they weren’t about to escape from an underground facility. “Come on,” he said, voice low but controlled. “We’ve got nineteen minutes before they realize we’re gone.”

Chance followed, whispering, “You sure you’re not secretly some kind of spy?”

007n7’s lips twitched, a flicker of humor breaking through the tension. “You have no idea.”

And with that, they slipped out of the cage—quiet, composed, and deliberate. 

On the outside, he was the calmest person in the room. But on the inside? 007n7’s heart was still hammering like a drum. 

‘If I make one wrong move, we’re both dead…’

…

The hallway beyond the cages was narrow and dimly lit, the air heavy with oil and rust. Faint red lights pulsed along the walls, flickering like warning signs of danger. 

007n7 led the way, his expression calm—too calm for someone whose heart was thundering in his chest.

Behind him, Chance stumbled slightly over a loose chain. Without thinking, 007n7 reached back and grabbed his hand, steadying him.

“Quiet,” 007n7 whispered. “Stay close. Don’t let go.”

Chance nodded, fingers tightening instinctively around 007n7’s. The warmth of the grip contrasted the cold steel surrounding them—one small, fragile link of trust in a place built to break people.

They crept forward, weaving through stacks of crates and broken equipment. The sound of boots echoed down a nearby corridor, growing louder. 007n7 froze. A guard’s flashlight beam swept dangerously close to their hiding spot.

Chance opened his mouth to whisper—probably something stupid.

But 007n7 didn’t let him.

He turned sharply, pressed Chance back against the wall, and clamped a hand over his mouth.

The guard’s footsteps stopped.

The beam lingered.

007n7’s pulse pounded in his ears. His hand trembled slightly against Chance’s face as he mouthed a single word—don’t.

The guard took a few steps closer, light sliding across the floor until it landed right on the tip of 007n7’s shoe.

‘Please don’t look up. Please don’t look up.’

Seconds stretched into an eternity—then, finally, the guard muttered something under his breath and walked away. The echo of his boots faded down the hall.

007n7 waited three heartbeats longer before slowly letting go of Chance’s mouth. Chance let out a shaky laugh.

“... You sure you’re not an action hero?”

“Shut up,” 007n7 muttered, though the corners of his lips twitched slightly. “Let’s move.”

They made their way toward the steel door marked EXIT. The keypad beside it blinked red.

007n7 glanced at it, his mind already racing. “Hold my hand again.”

Chance blinked, confused. “Huh?”

“If we get separated, you’re dead weight,” 007n7 said flatly. “Now—hold.”

Chance took his hand again, and 007n7 worked the keypad with his free hand, analyzing the faded digits. After a few seconds—beep!—the light turned green.

“Remind me never to underestimate you,” Chance muttered.

“Duly noted,” 007n7 said, pushing the door open.

He peeked out again—searchlights swept across the yard. The guards were closing in. “We need to move. Now.”

The lights above flared brighter, sweeping across the yard. Chance flinched and shielded his eyes. “Ow—ugh, the lights—!”

007n7 looked at him, frowning. His gaze darted to the ground where something glinted faintly under the floodlights—a pair of sunglasses inside a case, half-buried in dirt.

He grabbed them without hesitation and opened the case to inspect them. ‘They seem to be in fine quality… kind of a waste to leave them here…’

handed them to Chance. “Here. Put these on.”

Chance blinked. “Seriously? Now?”

“Trust me,” 007n7 said, his tone quieter this time—steady, reassuring. “Might not change your luck, but it’ll help you see straight.”

Chance looked confused for a moment, but when he put the shades on, 007n7 couldn’t help but freeze. Something about the image struck him like a faint echo from another lifetime—the same grin, the same spark behind those dark lenses.

‘I forgot… Chance used to cherish his accessories…’ 007n7 thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the memory.

[ Chance tilted his head, studying him with mild curiosity behind those dark shades. “You always say that.” He flipped the coin again, catching it with a soft clink. “You’re a weird one, 007n7. Quiet, awkward—but I dunno, not bad company.” ]

He blinked, shaking the thought away. ‘No. This was the past. That version of Chance didn’t exist yet. Not here. Not now.’

[ Chance grinned when he didn’t answer. “See? You’re thinking again. Relax, man.” He gave 007n7 a playful nudge with his elbow. “Not everyone hates you, you know.” ]

Still… it felt surreal, almost eerie. Like watching the start of something that hadn’t happened yet.

They started moving again, crouching low behind crates. As they ran, 007n7 spotted something else near the fence—a black fedora lying beside an old supply bag. He grabbed it and made sure to clean it before tossing it to Chance. “Here. Take this too.”

Chance caught it mid-run, blinking. “A hat? What, am I supposed to look fashionable while escaping?”

[ Chance turned back to the ocean, coin dancing in the fading light. “Good. ’Cause one day, you’ll run out of places to hide—and by then, you’ll wish you didn’t waste all that time being scared.” ]

“Maybe,” 007n7 said, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Every gambler needs a little luck, right? Even if it’s borrowed.”

Chance tilted his head, still running. “Luck, huh?”

“Yeah,” 007n7 said, his voice low but certain. “Sometimes, luck isn’t what you’re born with—it’s what you make when the odds are against you.”

Chance slowed for half a heartbeat, his mind replaying the words. There was something grounding—almost prophetic—about the way 007n7 said it.

And though he didn’t know why, he knew he’d remember that line forever.

Chance smiled and muttered only for himself, “Then I really am lucky to have met you, Seven…”

As they reached the fence, alarms blaring behind them, 007n7 helped Chance through first, then followed close behind. They sprinted into the woods, branches slapping their arms as they ran deeper into the darkness.

When they finally stopped, both panting, Chance adjusted his new fedora and shades with a grin. “Guess this is my new look now.”

007n7 glanced at him, the faintest smile flickering across his face. “Good. Keep it. Maybe it’ll bring you luck someday.”

Chance laughed softly. “You really think so?”

007n7 smiled and looked ahead into the trees. 

“I know so.”

Chapter Text

“You WHAT?!”

Elliot’s voice cut through the calm afternoon air like a thunderstorm, making the teacups tremble when he slammed his palms on the table and stood, eyes wide with disbelief.

007n7 gave a nervous smile, scratching the back of his head. “... It’s not as bad as it sounds?”

“‘Not as bad as it sounds’? YOU—You nearly died!!” Elliot exclaimed with exasperation as he glared at 007n7.

Elliot’s gaze darted from him to Chance—who sat happily spinning his newly polished fedora on one finger, shades resting proudly on his face.

Then Elliot’s gaze went to the two new additions: Two Time, who wore an unnervingly bright smile, and finally to Azure, serene as always while sipping from his porcelain cup.

“The Spawn has been delivered from peril,” Two Time intoned, voice smooth and reverent, eyes half-lidded in bliss. “The Fates wove their strings in Seven’s favor once again.”

Elliot blinked. “... Right. Of course they did,” he muttered, slowly lowering himself back into his chair. “Because why wouldn’t they?”

Azure set his cup down gently, his tone calm but with that quiet conviction that made every word sound deliberate. “Two Time only speaks the truth, Elliot. Seven’s actions, reckless though they may seem, ensured the boy’s survival. That is something worth gratitude.”

Elliot sighed, picking up his own cup. “Gratitude, huh?” He took a sip, immediately wincing at the bitter taste, but forced a polite smile anyway. “Yeah, sure. Grateful. Definitely not furious or stressed or anything…”

007n7 laughed weakly, glancing at Chance. “He… kinda tripped into danger. I just helped him not die.”

Chance grinned. “He’s exaggerating. I had it under control!”

“You panicked when the gun went off,” 007n7 reminded him.

“Reflex!” Chance shot back, crossing his arms defensively. “Totally fine reflex!”

Two Time clasped their hands together, smiling in that unnerving way that was both proud and unsettling. “The Spawn shows spirit! A spark of destiny flickers within him. The path begins to unfold.”

Elliot groaned softly. “There it is. The ‘path’ talk again.”

Azure gave a faint, knowing smile. “You may mock, Elliot, but fate often favors the bold. Even those who stumble into it.”

“Yeah, well,” Elliot muttered, swirling the tea in his cup, “next time fate needs a babysitter, it can send someone else.”

007n7 chuckled under his breath, glancing toward Chance, who was adjusting his shades and grinning proudly. “He’ll learn to make his own luck someday...”

Azure tilted his head slightly. “Luck… or purpose. Either way, it seems he’s already found a guide.”

Two Time nodded in solemn agreement. “The Cycle continues!”

Elliot sighed, leaning back in his chair with a weary smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m just glad you’re safe…”

007n7 smirked faintly. “Wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Chance raised his cup in a mock toast. “To not dying, then.”

Elliot clinked his cup against Chance’s with a resigned sigh. “To not dying,” he echoed.

And from across the table, Two Time and Azure quietly whispered in unison—

“... And to the ones who make sure of it.”

If you asked 007n7 how he ended up having tea with Chance, Elliot, Azure, and Two Time, well… it all started with a gun.

Literally.

“Woah! Look at this cool toy I found!”

007n7 froze mid-step. His brain needed three full seconds to process what he was seeing.

Chance—bright-eyed, grinning, reckless Chance—was standing in the middle of the forest holding a gun like it was a shiny new action figure.

“Huh?” 007n7 blinked rapidly, his voice coming out tighter than he intended. “Chance, no! Put the gun down!”

Chance tilted his head. “But it looks so cool!”

“That’s not a toy,” 007n7 said sharply, moving forward with cautious steps. Inside, he was losing it—

‘Oh no, oh no, oh no, please tell me that’s not loaded please don’t pull anything please don’t—’

“But look!” Chance said, and before 007n7 could stop him—

“CHANCE—”

BANG!

The gun went off.

The sound split the forest in half. Birds exploded out of the trees. Smoke curled from the muzzle as the bullet embedded itself deep into a trunk.

Chance froze. His grin vanished, replaced by wide, trembling eyes. The gun clattered from his hands as he stumbled back, clutching his ears.

“Wha—what was that?! I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—”

007n7 was already there, snatching the weapon off the ground and flicking the safety on with shaking fingers. His voice stayed low and steady, though his pulse was thundering in his ears. “It’s okay. It’s fine. You’re fine...”

Chance stared at the smoking barrel, his hands trembling. “It was so loud…”

“Yeah,” 007n7 said softly, crouching down in front of him. “That’s because it’s real. Not a toy. You could’ve hurt yourself.”

“I… didn’t know.”

“I know.” 007n7 exhaled, his tone gentler now as he gently patted Chance’s head. “That’s why you listen when I tell you to be careful, okay?”

Chance gave a shaky nod, eyes glassy. “Okay...”

007n7 hugs Chance, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Hey. You’re alright. No one got hurt. Let’s just… keep our hands off anything that goes bang, yeah?”

Chance managed a weak laugh. “Yeah. No more shiny ‘toys’.”

“Good.” 007n7 looked up at the smoking tree and let out a weary sigh. “I swear, one day I’m going to confiscate your fedora.”

Chance gasped, clutching his hat protectively. “What?! You wouldn’t!”

007n7 gave him a dry look. “Watch me.”

Chance pouted, his voice turning into a whine. “But it’s part of my identity! You can’t just—take it!”

007n7 folded his arms, unimpressed. “Then maybe your identity should come with a safety manual.”

Chance blinked—then grinned, the pout vanishing as quickly as it came. “You sound like a dad. What, are you trying to be my dad or something?”

That actually made 007n7 freeze, remembering the times with C00lkidd before letting out a soft chuckle, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Maybe someone’s got to...”

Chance gasped dramatically, throwing a hand to his chest. “What, and ruin all this charm?” He spun in a little half-circle, hat tipped at a jaunty angle.

“Charm?” 007n7 raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly. “You shot a tree.”

“It was an accident! A warning shot!” Chance protested, grinning wide.

007n7 tilted his head. “Against what, photosynthesis?”

Chance laughed so hard he nearly tripped over a root, and even 007n7 had to bite back a laugh as they kept walking—bickering lightly the whole way down the forest trail.

The forest stretched endlessly before them—just trees, dirt, and the occasional sound of rustling leaves. 

…

The moon hung high in the sky, its light dripping through the branches as Chance and 007n7 trudged along the narrow path.

“Are we there yet?” Chance groaned, dragging his feet dramatically.

“There is no ‘there,’” 007n7 replied dryly, stepping over a fallen log. “We’re literally lost in the middle of nowhere.”

Chance gasped. “Wait—you mean you don’t know where we’re going either?”

007n7 shot him a sidelong glance. “If I did, we wouldn’t still be walking.”

Chance clutched his chest in mock horror. “Unbelievable! Here I thought you were some genius mastermind who could navigate using moss and starlight.”

“I am a genius,” 007n7 muttered under his breath. “Just… not a walking GPS.”

Chance laughed, the sound bright and unbothered, echoing through the trees. “You’re funny when you’re grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“Totally grumpy,” Chance teased, skipping ahead a few steps before turning around and walking backward to face him. “You’ve got that serious face—like you’re solving math problems while hiking.”

007n7 sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I am solving a problem. It’s called ‘how to survive being stranded in a forest with you.’”

Chance pretended to wipe a tear. “You wound me, partner!”

007n7’s lips twitched. He didn’t want to admit it, but Chance’s ridiculous energy was keeping him from spiraling again.

…

After a moment of silence, Chance kicked a pebble and said softly, “You think we’ll find a way out soon?”

007n7 glanced at the bright moon above them and shrugged. “Eventually. We just have to keep moving.”

Chance nodded, his earlier grin returning. “Then we keep moving! Together, yeah?”

007n7 looked at him, then ahead, hiding the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah... Together.”

…

Through the same endless trail of trees, dry leaves crunching beneath their shoes—when 007n7 suddenly froze mid-step.

Chance noticed a few steps later, stopping and turning with a grin. “What’s up, Sev? You see a bear or something?”

But 007n7 wasn’t moving. His eyes widened, darting left and right, voice catching. “Wait… where’s my bag?”

Chance blinked. “Your what now?”

“My bag,” 007n7 repeated, a hint of panic creeping into his tone. “My schoolbag! It had my notes, my papers, my—my stuff!”

Chance tilted his head, confused. “You mean you had one? I’ve never even seen you with a bag.”

That made 007n7 stop. His heart sank. “No… no, I did have it! I—I brought it from school before…” His thoughts crashed into each other like broken glass. The cages. The guards. The chaos. “Those jerks must’ve confiscated it when they dragged me in!”

Chance raised an eyebrow. “They stole your schoolbag? Kinda weird choice, don’t you think?”

“Not weird…” 007n7 muttered darkly, pacing in a small circle as his brain kicked into full panic mode. “It had my ID, my wallet, my assignments—everything! And my USB!”

Chance blinked. “What’s on the USB?”

“Stuff.” 007n7’s tone was sharp enough to end that question. “Important stuff.”

Chance smirked. “Let me guess—more homework?”

“Yes, actually!” 007n7 snapped, glaring. “Do you even realize how much data that was? It took me days to organize that!”

Chance’s grin widened with a chuckle. “You’re adorable when you panic...”

“I am not adorable,” 007n7 said through gritted teeth, running both hands through his hair. “I’m suffering! I just got kidnapped and nearly shot at, and now my bag’s probably being used as a doorstop by those creeps!”

Chance laughed, holding up his hands. “Alright, alright! Breathe, partner! It’s just a bag.”

007n7 froze and stared at him. “Just a bag?”

Chance nodded, still smiling innocently at 007n7.

007n7 sighed dramatically, pressing his fingers to his temples. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue.”

Chance laughed while clutching his stomach, wiping a tear—it was just the both of them in the darkness of the forest; only the moonlight lit the way for them—before 007n7 muttered, “First I get kidnapped, now I lose my school bag. What’s next? A pop quiz in the woods?”

Chance chuckled and nudged him lightly. “Could be worse. At least you’ve still got me.”

007n7 gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “That’s exactly what worries me.”

Chance just laughed, brushing some dirt off his fedora. “C’mon, partner! Maybe we’ll find your bag—or at least a vending machine.”

007n7 muttered under his breath, “If the universe has any mercy left…” and trudged after him, still quietly mourning the loss of his poor, confiscated schoolbag.

…

007n7 sighed softly, his mind drifting back to the thought of his poor confiscated schoolbag—probably torn apart by those jerks back at the building. ‘My notes… my books… my phone…’ he thought miserably.

His inner lament was cut short when he noticed Chance walking a few paces ahead—his usual springy steps had slowed, and his shoulders were drooping. The fedora on his head tilted slightly as he swayed on his feet.

“Chance…?” 007n7’s voice softened, concern edging through. “Are you alright?”

Chance blinked, looking over his shoulder with a tired grin. “Huh? Yeah, totally fine! Just… y’know, enjoying the scenic route.”

007n7 raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You mean the ‘walking-in-circles-for-hours’ route?”

Chance laughed weakly. “That’s the one.” He took another step—and nearly stumbled.

007n7 caught him by the arm before he could fall. “You’re exhausted,” he said firmly. “Sit down before you faceplant into a bush.”

“I’m fine, Sev,” Chance insisted, though his voice cracked halfway through. “Really. I’ve survived worse! Like—uh—history class!”

“That explains a lot,” 007n7 muttered. He gave him a look that could rival a disappointed father. “Chance. Sit.”

Chance opened his mouth to argue—then saw the stern glint in 007n7’s eyes and sighed in defeat. “Ugh, fine. You win, Dad.”

“Good,” 007n7 said, crouching slightly. “Now get on.”

Chance blinked, confused. “Wait—get on what?”

“Me,” 007n7 replied simply. “You’re slow, you’re tired, and I’m not leaving you behind. I’ll carry you until we find somewhere to rest.”

Chance’s face turned red. “Wh—what? No way! I’m not a kid!”

007n7 gave him a flat look. “You are a kid.”

Chance sputtered. “I—okay, technically yes, but—!”

007n7 turned his back to him, completely calm. “Either you get on, or I drag you by the collar. Your choice.”

Chance hesitated for a moment, staring at 007n7’s back like it was some kind of wild challenge. Then he groaned dramatically, throwing his arms up. “Fine, but only because you asked so nicely.”

“I didn’t,” 007n7 said flatly, crouching a little.

“Details,” Chance huffed, clambering onto his back with all the grace of a sleepy cat. Once settled, he draped himself over 007n7’s shoulders like a human scarf. “There. See? Perfect teamwork. You carry, I supervise.”

“More like I suffer,” 007n7 muttered, adjusting his grip as he stood up.

Chance smirked, resting his chin on 007n7’s shoulder. “You know, this is kinda nice. You’ve got that whole heroic savior vibe going on. Very knight-in-shining-armor.”

007n7 sighed, but a small smile ghosted over his face. “You talk too much for someone who almost face-planted five minutes ago.”

Chance grinned. “Just saying—if we survive this, I’m telling everyone my cool partner carried me through the woods!”

“Partner?” 007n7 raised an eyebrow, now noticing that Chance kept using that word. “Since when did I sign up for that?”

Chance gasped theatrically. “You mean you’re denying our dynamic duo destiny? How could you?! After all we’ve been through?”

“All we’ve been through?” 007n7 repeated. “It’s been six hours.”

“Six character-building hours,” Chance corrected, poking 007n7’s cheek. “You saved me, carried me, and now you’re stuck with me. That’s a legally binding friendship.”

007n7 gave him a long, patient look. “Do that,” he said slowly, “and I’ll actually confiscate your fedora.”

Chance gasped, clutching the hat protectively. “You wouldn’t dare! You gave it to me!”

007n7 smiled faintly. “Try me.”

There was a beat of silence—then Chance grinned, voice dripping with mischief. “You just want an excuse to see me without it! Admit it. You think I’d look good.”

007n7 let out the longest sigh in history. “If I drop you, will you stop talking?”

“Nope!” Chance chirped, hugging him tighter. “You’re my partner now. Partners don’t drop each other!”

“Unfortunately…” 007n7 murmured under his breath, though the faint smile tugging at his lips said otherwise.

007n7 trudged through the forest, every step heavy and slow, dry leaves crunching beneath his shoes. 

Chance had long since fallen asleep on his back—head tucked against 007n7’s shoulder, breathing softly like a kid who hadn’t nearly gotten kidnapped hours ago.

‘Lucky him,’ 007n7 thought, adjusting his grip slightly so he wouldn’t jostle him. ‘Meanwhile, I’m starving, thirsty, lost, and carrying a human chatterbox through the woods like a glorified taxi service.’

His stomach growled miserably. The moonlight barely cut through the dense canopy, shadows stretching long and twisted. Then—just as his knees began to tremble—a soft flicker of light glowed faintly through the trees ahead.

007n7 froze. ‘A light? Out here?’

His first instinct was hope. His second was caution. ‘Please be normal people. Please don’t be kidnappers. Please don’t be forest cannibals.’

He adjusted Chance carefully, keeping one hand on the kid’s back, and began moving toward the glow.

It didn’t take long to find the source—two figures standing in a small clearing, a lantern casting a dim orange glow around them. From where he stood, they looked around his age—maybe twelve or thirteen in his perspective.

One wore a gray wizard-like hat and gloves, holding the lantern with calm precision. The other had black messy scene hair, fingerless gloves, and a sharp grin that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

‘Okay,’ 007n7 thought, slowing his steps, ‘either they’re friendly… or this is how horror movies start.’

He hesitated, debating whether to call out—but before he could, the taller one swung the lantern toward him, light flashing directly into his eyes.

“Ah—!” 007n7 flinched, raising his arm to block the glare.

Both figures gasped and stepped back in alarm.

“Who are you?!” the one with the hat demanded, voice sharp but wary.

“Don’t come closer!” the messy-haired one warned, tone oddly theatrical.

007n7 raised one hand slowly in surrender, the other still supporting Chance. “Hey—hey! Easy! I’m not here to cause trouble! I’m just… lost!”

The taller one squinted, lowering the lantern slightly. “Lost?”

“Yes!” 007n7 said quickly. “Lost, tired, and really hoping you’re not serial killers!”

That made both of them blink.

The messy-haired one turned to the other. “Azure, do you think he’s one of them?”

Azure tilted their head thoughtfully. “No. He doesn’t have the aura. The Spawn wouldn’t let one of His touches carry someone with such care.”

‘... The Spawn?’ 007n7 thought, blinking. ‘Wait. Wait, WAIT—did they just say—’

His gaze flicked between the two, mind spinning. Then it hit him like a freight train.

‘Hold on. If that’s Azure… then is that Two Time?’

He almost dropped Chance. ‘No way—Two Time??? That Two Time??? The one that was in a fictitious cult that worshiped a FAKE GOD called “The Spawn”? The one who had the ability of sacrificing himself could bring “a second life”??? The same cult that spiraled him into complete delusion and madness?!’

He swallowed hard, forcing his voice steady. “You… You’re Two Time?”

The messy-haired one blinked, then grinned like he’d been caught doing something clever. “Huh? How do you know my name?”

‘Oh shoot! I forgot—this is a new life, and they don’t know about their own entire descent into madness!’ 007n7 screamed internally.

Meanwhile, Azure gave a small sigh beside him. “Don’t mind him. He’s dramatic, but harmless. Usually.”

“Harmless?” Two Time repeated, sounding offended. “The Spawn has blessed me with vision!”

Azure rolled their eyes. “You were blessed with too much caffeine...”

007n7 blinked. “So, uh… you two live here?”

Azure nodded calmly. “We reside where the light of The Spawn touches the world least. It keeps us… quiet.”

“That’s… good?” 007n7 said slowly, pretending to understand before following Azure and Two Time.

Azure walked ahead with their lantern raised, the light spilling over the winding forest path. Beside them, Two Time moved quietly—hands clasped behind their back, eyes sharp despite the calm expression. 

007n7 followed a few steps behind, carefully balancing the sleeping Chance on his back.

The walk was long, but the silence wasn’t empty. The sounds of crickets and the soft crunch of leaves underfoot filled the air, and occasionally, Azure would glance back with a small, reassuring smile.

“You don’t have to be so tense,” Azure said finally, their tone gentle. “You’re safe here. We don’t harm those who seek shelter.”

007n7 chuckled softly, though his voice carried a nervous edge. “Yeah, well, forgive me if I’m… processing the fact that I might be walking into a cult village.”

Two Time looked over at him, expression unreadable. “A community,” they corrected smoothly. “Bound by faith, not fear.”

Azure gave a polite nod. “Precisely. We take care of each other. No one goes hungry or lost here.”

“That’s… nice,” 007n7 replied, careful not to sound skeptical. “It sounds peaceful.”

“Peace is what we strive for,” Azure said, voice soft but firm. “The forest is cruel to wanderers. Many find purpose when they stop running from it.”

007n7 adjusted his grip on Chance’s legs, glancing at the faint glow ahead through the trees. “Purpose, huh…? I think I’ll settle for a sandwich first.”

That made Azure chuckle. Even Two Time cracked a small smile, though their eyes stayed on 007n7, studying every movement.

When they finally emerged from the forest, 007n7 stopped dead in his tracks.

The village stretched before them—small wooden houses clustered close together, bathed in the orange glow of lanterns. Flower boxes sat under windows, and warm smoke curled from chimneys. It looked peaceful, almost cozy. Adults greeted one another with gentle nods. ‘Does this always happen at night…?’

But everywhere—painted on doors, etched into lanterns, woven into banners—was the same sigil: the spiraling mark of The Spawn.

Azure gestured toward the heart of the village. “Welcome to Haven of the Second Dawn.”

007n7 forced a smile, bowing his head slightly. “It’s… lovely. Really. The, uh, symbols add character.”

Azure smiled, taking the compliment in stride. “I’m glad you think so. We honor the Spawn in all things—it’s our way of showing gratitude for life’s second chances.”

“Right. Very… optimistic,” 007n7 murmured, clutching Chance a little tighter.

Two Time walked alongside him now, their tone even but watchful. “You seem wary, Seven. Have you heard of us before?”

007n7 froze for half a second before answering with careful politeness. “Ah… just stories. About The Spawn. And, uh, rebirth and all that.”

Azure’s eyes glimmered in the lantern light. “Stories have a way of twisting the truth. You’ll see the real side soon enough.”

Two Time hummed lowly. “And if you’ve come to mock what we believe…”

Azure gave them a subtle look, a silent calm down.

007n7 immediately raised a hand, trying to sound sincere. “No, no, nothing like that. I’m just… grateful you helped us. Really.”

Azure smiled again, soft and almost genuine. “Then we’re even. You needed a place to rest, and the Spawn provides to those who arrive in need.”

007n7 glanced around, taking in the faint chanting echoing from a nearby hall, the robed figures lighting candles, and the carved wooden idols that watched silently from doorways.

It should’ve been terrifying.

It should’ve been wrong.

But it wasn’t—not exactly. There was warmth here. Life.

Still, the hair on the back of his neck refused to settle.

“... Thanks,” he said at last, voice low but polite. “For… everything.”

Azure nodded. “You’re welcome, friend. Rest easy tonight.”

Two Time’s gaze lingered a moment longer before they finally turned away, murmuring under their breath, “The Spawn grants peace to all who accept its light.”

007n7 smiled nervously, watching them disappear into the lantern-lit crowd.

“Sure,” he muttered to himself. “Light. Totally not the ‘eternal void’ kind or anything.”

Azure only laughed softly. “You’ll fit in just fine.”

Azure guided them through the winding paths of the village, lantern in hand. The night air carried the scent of smoke and bread—warm, almost nostalgic. 

007n7 tried not to stare at the quiet robed figures passing by, their murmured greetings echoing with reverence. It felt less like a cult and more like a strange, peaceful dream—if you ignored the glowing Spawn symbols painted on every wall.

They stopped in front of a modest wooden house tucked between two larger buildings. It had flower boxes under the windows and a small, carved emblem over the door—less ominous than the others. ‘Seems the same to me…’

Azure pushed the door open and gestured for 007n7 to step in. “Please,” Azure said softly. “You must be exhausted.”

“Thanks…” 007n7 nodded with a faint smile, stepping inside. The air was warm, the faint light from a few candles making the place feel cozy. Two Time followed quietly, shutting the door behind them.

Chance murmured in his sleep against 007n7’s shoulder, shifting a little. 007n7 adjusted his grip carefully, sighing. “I swear, this guy could sleep through an earthquake…”

Azure chuckled lightly, setting the lantern on a table. “He looks peaceful. It’s good he can rest.” They turned to a small cabinet, retrieving a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth. “You should eat something before you rest as well.”

007n7 blinked as Azure handed him the bread. “Oh—uh, thanks. You didn’t have to.”

Azure smiled. “Consider it a gesture of trust.”

Two Time stood nearby, arms crossed but eyes softer than before. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep you steady. The woods drain strength from those who walk them too long.”

“Yeah, I can feel that,” 007n7 said between bites. The bread was plain but fresh, soft enough to remind him how hungry he really was. “This is… actually really good.”

Azure seemed pleased. “Our baker rises before dawn every day. The Spawn blesses steady hands.”

007n7 paused mid-chew and then nodded. “They must be hardworking then.”

Azure and Two Time exchanged a brief, amused glance—like they both knew something he didn’t—but chose to stay silent, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at Azure’s lips.

When he finished eating, Azure motioned toward a door on the right side of the room. “You can rest there. It’s not much, but it’s warm and quiet.”

007n7 peered inside—a small bed, clean sheets, and a single window looking out toward the forest. It was simple, but after everything he’d been through, it might as well have been a palace.

“This is… perfect,” he said sincerely. “Really. Thank you.”

Azure inclined their head. “Sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Two Time lingered at the door, watching as 007n7 carefully set Chance down on the bed. “You’re cautious,” they said quietly. “That’s good. But know this—no harm will come to you here.”

007n7 looked up, half skeptical but too tired to argue. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Two Time nodded once and stepped out, closing the door softly behind them.

For a long moment, 007n7 just stood there in the dim light, staring at the sleeping Chance beside him. The sound of the distant chanting outside had faded to a gentle hum, and for the first time since the chaos began, he felt… safe.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair with a weary sigh. “Guess we’re not dead yet,” he muttered under his breath.

Then, with a faint smile, he lay back beside Chance, letting exhaustion pull him under.

For now, the world could wait…

Elliot sighed as he set his cup down, the faint clink of porcelain echoing through the quiet room. “Alright, Sev,” he said, voice calm but edged with disappointment. “We’re going home. Your parents have been worried sick looking for you.”

007n7 froze mid-sip, then forced a small, nervous smile. “O-Oh… right. Yeah, I figured they might be.” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting briefly toward Chance, who had been spinning his fedora idly on his finger.

When Elliot stood, 007n7 reluctantly followed, adjusting his sleeves. Chance hopped up too, flashing a grin at the group. “Well, this was fun! Creepy forest, cult-y tea party, near-death experience. Five stars. Would totally do again!”

Azure gave a polite chuckle, voice even as ever. “You have a… unique way of appreciating hospitality.”

Two Time smiled thinly. “The Spawn favors the bold,” they said cryptically, earning a quiet sigh from Azure.

Elliot pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Spawn can keep the bold if it means some peace and quiet.”

Chance gasped, mock-offended. “Wow, you wound me, Elliot. I thought we were bonding!”

“Bonding?” Elliot shot back, incredulous. “You nearly gave me a heart attack twice today!”

Chance grinned wider. “That’s just how I show affection!”

007n7 blinked at them, watching their back-and-forth with a faint smile. ‘Ah, children… they’re getting along,’ he thought fondly, though Chance was technically younger than him and Elliot was a bit older. Still, it warmed him to see the tension lift, if only for a moment.

Azure stepped forward, giving a polite nod. “Travel safely, all of you. The forest is kinder under the moon than it is under the sun.”

Two Time bowed slightly. “The Spawn watches your path.”

Elliot forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Yeah… thanks for the tea. I think.”

As they turned to leave, 007n7 fell into step behind Elliot, Chance trailing close beside him. The lights of the strange little village faded behind them, swallowed by the forest shadows.

After a while, 007n7 glanced at Elliot’s back and frowned. ‘Wait… how did he even find us?’ he thought. ‘We were in the middle of nowhere.’

Elliot didn’t look back, but somehow, 007n7 could almost hear the smirk in his voice when he said, “And before you ask—yes, Sev, I always find you.”

Yep, he’s definitely avoiding Elliot.

…

The city buzzed softly around them as the three walked down the sidewalk—Elliot on the right, Chance on the left, and 007n7 in the middle, doing his best to ignore their ongoing “Pineapple on Pizza: War of Opinions” debate.

“I’m just saying,” Chance gestured dramatically, “pineapple adds personality to pizza! It’s bold!”

“It’s wrong,” Elliot snapped. “Fruit has no place on pizza. You don’t see me putting tomatoes on a sundae, do you?”

“Tomatoes are fruits!”

“That’s not the point!”

007n7 sighed quietly, tuning them out as his gaze drifted to the shop windows they passed. Something bright caught his attention—he stopped mid-step.

Displayed neatly behind the glass was a Burger Bob Hat.

He tilted his head, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a goofy hat shaped like a hamburger—but something about it made him stop. 

It was simple. Fun.

‘I finally found it!’

Elliot and Chance finally noticed he wasn’t beside them.

“Where’d Seven go this time?” Chance muttered, looking around.

Elliot followed his gaze and spotted 007n7 standing by the shop window. “Oh, great. He’s been lured by fast food merchandise.”

They both walked over.

“A burger hat?” Elliot asked, squinting at it.

007n7 smiled a little. “Yeah. It’s funny.”

Chance leaned beside him, grinning. “You like it that much?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s kinda cool,” 007n7 admitted, his tone calm but sincere.

Chance turned on his heel toward the door. “Say no more. I’m buying it.”

“What?” 007n7 blinked. “No, you’re not.” He starts panicking a little.

Elliot stepped forward at the same time, arms crossed. “You’re not buying it. I am. If it makes him happy, I’ll get it.”

Chance scoffed. “Oh please, rich boy, don’t act like you’re the only one with money.”

“Coming from the guy who borrows money from his parents? You’d probably lose it before paying.”

“It’s not borrowing if I win!”

007n7 rubbed his temple, exhaling slowly. “You two are… unbelievable.”

Chance crossed his arms with a smirk. “C’mon, Sev, let one of us spoil you a little. You’ve had a rough few days.”

“I don’t need spoiling,” 007n7 said quickly, shaking his head. “Really, it’s fine. I don’t even need the hat.”

He actually wants the hat.

Elliot frowned. “You sure? You seemed to like it.”

“I’m sure.” 007n7 forced a small smile. “Besides, I’m surrounded by rich people, apparently. Someone’s got to have restraint.”

Chance burst out laughing. “Ouch. He got us there.”

Elliot sighed in defeat, muttering, “Fine. But if you change your mind, I’m buying it before he does.”

Chance smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

007n7 just shook his head as they started walking again, Chance and Elliot still bickering beside him. He couldn’t help the small, amused smile that tugged at his lips.

‘They’re impossible,’ he thought, ‘but at least they care.’

007n7 followed behind Chance and Elliot as they continued arguing, sighing at their bickering.

‘I’ll be the one to get that Burger hat soon.’

Chapter Text

007n7 had just been transported back into the Main Cabin, the familiar hum of the lobby filling his ears as his vision adjusted. Everyone was gathered around the long dining table, the tension in the air melting into relief.

The round was over.

The round was a survivor’s win—one of the rare victories against 1x1x1x1.

The creature’s presence alone distorted the world—their body unnaturally bright, their movements leaving digital scars in the air.

And yet, the one who suffered most this time was Shedletsky—the so-called chicken man.

He sat slumped over the table now, feathers ruffled, the usual spark in his eyes dimmed. Every so often, he’d let out a half-hearted laugh at Chance’s joke, but his exhaustion showed.

007n7 leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly.

‘He’s been missing his slashes lately,’ he thought. ‘That’s not like him at all… Is he okay?’

His gaze dropped to the faint, glitched mark still clinging to his sleeve, and before he could stop himself, he remembered.

The air had reeked of static.

All around them, the map glitched and warped—trees bending unnaturally, terrain flickering between solid and void. 007n7 had been crouched behind a broken wall, trying to catch his breath, when that voice tore through the air.

“This is… MASS INFECTION!!”

A twin shockwave ripped across the ground, two sickly green arcs tearing through the battlefield. The impact flung debris in every direction, spreading corruption wherever it landed. Those caught in the blast were left coughing, limbs trembling under the effects of Glitched I and Poisoned I.

Shedletsky stood at the center of it all, weapon drawn, feathers singed.

“Come on, you oversized virus!” he yelled, charging forward with his signature slash.