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Noob’s voice came out as a rasp, nothing more than a broken whisper over the bile caught in his throat. “Sixer… please.” The words left him like a prayer, and he immediately felt stupid. Like throwing a pebble at a mountain.
But for a heartbeat, the thing above him stilled.
Noob saw it then. A tremor in the shoulders he knew, not the hunched twitch of a predator but the small, terrible shudder of someone trying to remember how to breathe. Up close, the blood on Guest 666’s face looked like paint. bright, deliberate, and in the smear by their mouth Noob could have sworn there was a shadow of a smile he’d loved.
“Do.. you remember me?” Noob forced the words out, each one a splintering shard that was hard to voice.
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or, Noob has their first encounter with Guest 666 after being forsakened, and ends up in a last man standing.
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