Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 He did it, he actually did it. He's trembling, drenched in sweat, words and thoughts evading him as he stared down at the little creature wrapped up in his old, tattered uniform. It probably wasn't the coziest, but it was all he had. Elliot just couldn't tear his gaze away from the small child. 

 Even if he had achieved his goal, there was something wrong, of course nothing went exactly the way he wanted it to. He wanted to create something big, frightening, strong enough to defeat The Spectre. Not a child. Not something as soft, fragile and innocent as a child. To make matters worse, the child resembled his little sister. 

 At least he thinks they do, yellow skin, white hair, feathers, he couldn't quite tell if it was hair or feathers. That was besides the point. 

 Elliot had created a child using the lingering binary from The Spectre's visits. Using what he had learned through years of torment and memories he'd wished he could forget. His intent had been to create a weapon to go against it, not a child. Though he doesn't think he could bring himself, now or ever, to harm this child and get rid of their code, to delete them. He isn't sure what to do, especially since there is a chance it could come for a visit. As unlikely as it may be, a visit from The Spectre would put not only him in danger but the infant as well. 

 Slowly, he reached out, his hands still having a light tremor to them. He lifted the child, slow, careful, he knew that holding them wrong or being even slightly careless could be fatal. “I’ve messed up,” he grumbled as he leaned back against a wall, the tiny child grasping onto his shirt, watching him with a curiosity you could only ever find in a baby. “I can't just… Use you, to get back at that prick.”

 “You're just a kid, I can't- I can't do that.” Stammering, he took a moment to catch his breath, watching the infant in his arms. They were cooing, incoherent babbles with little bubbles of spit forming from their mouth. A messy baby, talkative but not loud. 

 Perhaps the way he had coded her, to be kind and gentle rather than egotistical and cruel as The Spectre, had been the reason for her being created a child rather than an adult or a weapon without much sentience. In all honesty he had been aiming for something like the c00lgui. Though, he has long since come to terms with the knowledge that life rarely ever goes the way he wants it to. Especially since he had been brought here.

 Elliot, too, had been in that realm with a select few other survivors, he was one of the first, in fact. He does not recall exactly when he was brought to this one, his own personal hell. But this was a result of poking his nose where it didn't belong, or well, more attempting to find a way back home. His foolishness and recklessness had him caught in the act, leading to The Spectre punishing him and even imprisoning him in a far worse hell. Designed just for him. 

 Here, in this pocket dimension created just for him, he's forced to watch the “games” that entity puts his friends through. Well, he doesn't personally know most of them and quite a few he wasn't on the best of terms with before they ended up here. Regardless, the torture and constant death and revival are things he would not wish on anyone. 

 Except The Spectre. He would do it to that prick if he could. 

 His gaze remained locked onto the infant, tiny, fragile, pure of any sin. Unlike him. A small being without knowledge of just how disgustingly cruel the world is. “I can't risk creating another child by mistake.” Elliot muttered to himself, in that moment, he felt he was being selfish again. A part of him wanted to keep the kid, he could try and send the child to Robloxia, but does he want to? He's been lonely for so long, maybe that is why he wishes to keep them with him here. A small child, a person, one to call his own. 

 In addition, the child was pretty much his. Created with his own two hands. Maybe not the conventional way, but this was his. They were his. “Right, I… I still have to name you.” He pushed his hair back with his free hand, the metal of the prosthetic cold against his skin. 

 “You uh- look like a pigeon, I think.” He didn't know why he was talking to the child as if they understood, they didn't, probably. It was probably a result of loneliness, he hasn't spoken to a person in what, three thousand years? “Pigeons symbolize freedom, you were made in an attempt for freedom so-” he paused, his gaze softening as they yawned, barely able to keep their eyes open. “Amiya, it means freedom of deceit or something." Elliot murmured as he slouched against the wall, slumped down with the baby drifting off into a sweet dream, nuzzled against his chest. He hopes they only have the kindest, warmest of dreams, for he knows the day might be no short of a nightmare. “And… It's- it sounds like Mia.”

 One day, when the time is right and the stage is set for all to face their just desserts, he hopes he can give them a place worthy of being called home. A place and time where Amiya can just be that, Amiya, a child, a happy child. A child who might complain about having to study, maybe a child who enjoys studying. Perhaps a child that enjoys athletics or more physical activities, even if it's something as simple as a child who enjoys scenery and running around, whatever it may be, he will support them and give them all the love they could ever desire. 

 One day, he’ll watch this kid cry on their first day of school, or watch as they jump with excitement to learn the wonders of the world, rather than the tragedies. Answer their questions, no matter how stupid or silly they may seem. Show them the world, the beauties of nature.

 He promises, one day, he will give them the life and all the love and joy they deserve. 

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 This round in particular had been horrible, though it wasn't a surprise morale has been low for a while now. Elliot sighed, Two Time was curled up beside him, their head resting on his lap, groaning in their sleep. The pain from second life haunts them even during the breaks. He just gently massaged their back, trying to ease the tension from where those bones had ripped through their skin. Everyone is exhausted, it makes him wonder if the killers are as well. Some he's sure are still enjoying the games, others like c00lkidd he is certain are suffering just as much, if not more than they are.

 Adding to his own exhaustion, he's been feeling odd as of late. Something doesn't feel right, he doesn't feel like himself. There's a little voice in his mind, not loud enough to have noticed before, but loud enough to influence his actions. It's telling him how to act, what to say, what to do. Keeps telling his name is Elliot Builder. Whatever it is, it's making him question his identity. He's certain no one else has these voices, maybe Two Time but they are still suffering from psychosis so he isn't sure they count. He blinked slowly, his hands still kneading into Two Time’s roughed up skin. 

 Is he really Elliot? With how this place is, he wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't and if he isn't, then who is he? Though he's more worried about who he should tell. Would anyone still trust him after? He won't blame them if they don't trust him after they find out. He wouldn't trust himself either. He can't afford to cause any arguments and create a rift between the survivors right now, not when everyone is already so exhausted. 

 The sound of another pained groan from Two Time snapped him out of his spiral, he frowned, they were sweating and it was clear the pain was worse this time around. He slowly pulled them up, having them sit on his lap pretty much, their face burying in his shoulder habitually. Elliot just wrapped his arms around them, still trying to ease the pain. “Still not doin’ any better?” 

 Elliot looked up, meeting Chance’s gaze as they sat down beside the two of them, he just shook his head, managing a strained smile. “No, I think it's getting worse.” The gambler’s expression didn't change, his usual smile hasn't been as smug and confident as it used to be, though. Even so, Elliot could tell even he was tense. Everyone is. 

 There was a beat of silence before Chance spoke up again, his voice more serious than Elliot had ever heard it before, “Look, Elliot, or well, whoever you are, how long are you going to pretend to be someone you're not?” Of course, he froze, his eyes widening as his gaze locked onto Chance. He swallowed, his thoughts racing a mile a minute, was it that obvious? But he himself didn't have a doubt that he wasn't Elliot up until recently. 

 “I-” his words caught in his throat, his expression shifting to fear and guilt, maybe even insecurity, he wasn't sure. “I’m not sure, I… I thought I was Elliot but uhm. I realized I might not be- I just… didn't know how to tell everyone.”  He stammered, unable to bring himself to look Chance in the eyes. He was sure Chance would be mad at him, he might not yell but he would probably be mad right? Even so, Chance was silent for a long time, neither of them knew exactly how long but it gave Elliot the time he needed to think and calm down.

 The light from the lamps glinted in Chance’s glasses as he looked forward, his gaze on nothing in particular. “Figured, you act a lot like him, at least, how he did when he was younger.” The pizza man watched Chance, still uneasy about everything, though he didn't interrupt them. “The last time I saw him, before we ended up here, he was thirty eight- maybe thirty nine. You're twenty three.” 

 “At first, I chalked it up to whatever brought us here making you younger so you had a weaker mind, later I realized you genuinely didn't even remember half the stuff that happened to you before ending up here.” Chance leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, he almost looked solemn. “That and you did some stuff Elliot would never do.” 

 He didn't know what to say, what could he say? There certainly wasn't much. “Then who am I?” he almost forgot Two Time was there, continuing to gently rub circles into their back as they sobbed in their sleep, the pain just getting worse and worse. Chance turned his gaze onto the cultist as well, a deep sigh escaping him as he reached a hand up and placed it in Two Time’s unruly hair, running their fingers through it and untangling the knots with as much care as possible. “We’ll figure that out once we’re out of here, I bet you don't have any ill intentions anyway, so don't let it get to ya, kid.” 

 That lifted a heavy weight off his shoulders, he was surprised, but more relieved than anything else. “Alright.” he muttered, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips despite how exhausted he was. 

Chapter Text

 Baby toys and a few stray socks missing their pairs remained scattered across the floor, messy but comforting. His hell had been a recreation of his old apartment, though all you could see outside the windows, balcony and door was an endless void. The shadows that resided in the abyss had long since become his only company, until he’d created Amiya that is. The mess of everything in his formerly empty prison made it look lived in. Even if he still has to watch those rounds, he could go through it a little easier now.

 Knowing he has a way out planned, an actual reason to try and make it out as soon as possible. He had a reason to give it everything and never stop, even in death. He bit the inside of his cheek, four pop up screens in front of him, Amiya asleep in his lap. Sitting on the floor, his legs criss-crossed, the bags under his eyes more prominent, at least on the unscarred side of his face. Just because he had more or less failed in creating a weapon didn't mean he would stop his research, not now. Especially not now.

 “I can bring stuff in here now, still can’t get anything out though.” Elliot groaned, though making sure to be quiet so as not to disturb the slumbering baby in his embrace. He had never been particularly loud to begin with, so being quieter now wasn't a herculean task. 

 His gaze lowered to the infant, eyes softening as much as they possibly could. This reminded him of when Chance and 118o8 had gotten married, Bluudud had been around a year old at the time. Elliot was sure that Chance’s expression had been just as soft for the boy, even if his eyes had always been behind those stupid shades. Now that he thought about it, his eyes softened for that kid, ITrapped, as well. They had grown close, become gambling buddies and what not. 

 The sinner’s expression hardened slightly, Chance and ITrapped had died within the same day, Chance to Don Sonellio, The mafioso to ITrapped and finally ITrapped to Mr. Doombringer. It didn't help that Bluudud had died the same day to that forsaken car, really just controlled by The Spectre. 118o8 had lost everyone within that one day and lost her own life to the very same car that had killed her son after three years of searching for said boy.

 Now they're all stuck in that hell, created by the creature of misfortune, a monster that feeds on fear, agony and disharmony. The kids were forced to kill, unknowing at first, later realising and beginning to go mad. Of course, they didn't want to kill their parents, or anyone for that matter. He had seen their attempts to fight back, only to end with their own terribly torturous deaths.

 One day, soon, he will get them all out, he promises that much. 

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 The break before the round had been dragged out longer than usual, the timer was set to XX:XX, peculiar but none could complain. Usually they'd get half a day, so far it's been 4 days. Everyone was in the main cabin together, most of them sitting at the long table in front of the chalk board.

 Those who weren't were sitting in the lounge, just taking the break to clear their mind or prepare for whenever the next game may begin. Elliot was preparing the pizza, Two Time trying their best to help, their bony tail swishing from side to side behind them. They had let go of their habit of grabbing said tail to prevent it from exposing their emotions. A lot of their improvements had been thanks to everyone, especially Elliot’s, patience. Them becoming more open with their thoughts and emotions had helped in bettering their contribution during the games as well.

 The whole cult thing was still a work in progress and they don't really have a way to treat their schizophrenia and psychosis while they're still here. 

 Veeronica and Noob sat with Jane, Noob leaning against her and the skater fixing up the wheels of her skateboard. 

 Chance was sitting on the couch outside, 118o8 and ITrapped with him, ITrapped half asleep, leaning against the gambler and 118o8 fixing Chance’s tie. All three of them looked down, of course, though Chance was a bit more deep in thought. Taph sat not too far away, on the floor, fixing up and preparing some traps for whenever the next round may be. Dusekkar, Guest1337 sat with Shedletsky, at the table, both of them listening carefully to the exploiter and Builderman.

The admin and 007n7 spoke and wrote down theories and clues that could be of importance on the chalkboard, trying to discern if there was any way for them to unlock the c00LGUI’s commands or find a way for Builderman to access his admin panel, or just a way out of here. They had been getting along much better after an argument in the past. It had been an ugly fight, team morale had been at its lowest, everyone was far beyond exhaustion and 007n7 had messed up in the round prior. Though, the results had far outweighed the initial anger and hurt, they were actually working together, being civil enough to share thoughts and hold a conversation 

 Of course they still had their differences, everyone was still exhausted and didn't have the energy to talk about everything and be friends or simple acquaintances, not right now. Maybe another time, when they aren't constantly worrying about their lives. “We still don’t have much, but we did find a journal, probably from someone who used to be here.” 007n7 muttered, placing said journal on the table, in front of those present. Dusekkar’s gaze sharpened, as did Shedletsky’s. 

 Jane pursed her lips, a question on the tip of her tongue, Builderman answered, knowing what she intended to ask without her needing to say it, “from what’s in the pages, they didn’t escape.”

 “We honestly think he might be in a different realm, The Spectre, as they decided to call it, was the one that brought everyone here.” The exploiter added, rubbing the back of his neck. As of recently the dark circles under his eyes had grown darker, his eyes more bloodshot. Though he still probably wasn't the worst appearance wise. “Whatever it is, it feeds on strong emotions, fear mostly.” Builderman crossed his arms, glaring at the leatherbound journal with a new found hatred, “anythin’ negative really.” 

 Elliot and Two Time, who had been listening from not too far, were now standing near the table as well. The pizza delivery man stared at the book, the longer he looked at it, the more his head hurt. Though, the guilt of pretending to be someone he was not may also be playing a role in his headaches. 

 A part of him wondered if telling them the truth might be of some help right now, because the entity they're talking about right now sounds awfully familiar. “Ehm, I… Can't be of too much help but there’s something I need to tell you all.” Guest, noticing Elliot’s fidgeting, placed a hand on the blond’s arm, offering a tired, but reassuring smile. 

 He took a deep breath before speaking, stumbling over his words in an attempt to find the right ones, if the right ones even existed. “I uh- I keep hearing this voice, im not sure if anyone else hears it, but it’s pretty much telling me what to be and keeps-” he paused for a moment, unable to meet Two Time’s worried gaze, they were holding onto the back of his shirt, having grown more clingy as of late. “Telling me that my name is Elliot.” Everyone at the table was watching him now, Two Time was confused, though didn't move away when the blond continued, even though the soldier pulled his arm back, much to Elliot’s dismay. 

 “With everything happening, I didn't think much of it at first, but recently I realized that probably wasn't normal.” He was fidgeting with his fingers, his head lowered, unable to look anyone in the eyes, "I talked with Chance about it and it… Kinda proved to me that I'm not really Elliot, I don't know who I am though, why I look like Elliot, why I have Elliot’s memories or skills-” he almost continued to ramble on, tears he didn't notice forming dripping onto his hands, Two Times arms loosely, clumsily wrapped around him and eventually a hand on his shoulder, one he didn't expect at that.

 007n7 offered him a kind smile, one he didn't think he deserved, not when he'd been rude to Seven so often during the rounds. Even if no one, let alone Seven, thought he was being rude. “Figures, I’ve known Elliot just as long as Chance has. I doubt you have ever had any bad intentions, did you?” His expression softened further as he saw more tears forming in the younger man’s eyes and the worried look on Two Time’s face. “No one’s mad at you, kid, you didn't do anything wrong.” Elliot caught a brief glimpse of Builderman nodding, even if he looked solemn, he agreed with what Seven had just said. 

 The relief settled and he almost felt dizzy for a second, if the cultist wasn't holding him up his legs might have given out. Shedletsky stood up, his hands on the table as he eyed Elliot, or well, whoever this kid was, “then where’s Elliot? Is he in the real world or is he somewhere else?” That question shifted the mood, concern in everyone’s eyes and the tension became so thick it was almost too hard for anyone to even take a single breath.

 “Either he’s here, or he’s somewhere else like the guy that wrote this thing.” Jane muttered, picking up the book and skimming through the pages, her brows knitting together. “Even if we find out where he is, there isn't much we can do for him if he isn't safe.” Jane’s words caused Builderman’s frown to deepen and the blond’s expression of guilt to worsen.

 A moment of silence passed by, everyone absorbed in their own thoughts before Veeronica spoke in an attempt to cheer everyone up for the time being, “let’s think ‘bout that later! (-"-;) for now, do you still want to be called Elliot or you wanna pick out a new name for yourself?” she mused, standing up and pulling Noob up with her, dragging them along to stand beside Two Time and the pizza delivery man.

 He stood still for a moment before looking back at Two Time and managing a smile, sad but a smile nonetheless, “it isn't my name to keep.” Vee nodded her head, grabbing his hand and pulling him along with Noob, Two Time still holding onto the back of his shirt as they went upstairs, “then let’s pick out names!” she exclaimed and for a moment, she definitely did lift everyone’s spirits.

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 Elliot, as exhausted as ever, scowled at the sight before him, Amiya wrapped up in a blanket, he’d spawned in using his GUI, held tightly in his arms. He hadn't thought it would actually come by, that was his mistake, he should've been more careful. “What? You're gonna put a kid who can't even hold their own head up yet into your crappy game?” he spat out, each word laced with venom. 

 It only shook its head, stepping closer but not close enough for either to attack. Slowly The Spectre circled around Elliot, it had taken on its clumsy physical form just for this, uncanny and not quite human. “That child won't even have a sliver of a chance to feel before it is killed.” He gritted his teeth, scoffing, as if he would even let this prick touch a single feather on their head. 

 “What are you planning, you sorry excuse of a rotten tomato?” it rolled its eyes, stopping its pacing and watching Elliot for a moment before musing, jolly enough that Elliot could taste bile, “I believe it is high time you returned to the games, no?” 

 “Oh hell no.” his brows furrowed, his glare sharpening as it lifted its hand and his old bike appeared before him, a mini helmet for Amiya along with his own. “Oh hell yes.” The smirk was audible in its voice and Elliot’s eye twitched just hearing it. Not a moment later, a rift in the space was created, in The Spectre’s signature red and black, his frown deepened as it gestured for him to get on the bike and go. He didn't have a choice, he knew that from the start. There is no winning, not now.

 But soon, soon he will be the one laughing and standing above this loser. 

Chapter Text

 Things hardly ever seem to stay calm for long, the game has begun again, no warning, no time to mentally steal themselves. Just moments before, the younger survivors, including Veeronica, had been sitting around, trying to think up a new name for him.

 Somehow, they had agreed on Cilantro, Cici for short. The only reason he really agreed to the name was the way Two Time had burst into a fit of giggles as they witnessed the way Vee and eventually Noob had begun to tease him for their unserious name suggestions. It was between Parmesan and Cilantro, he didn't really like cheese and he had a feeling they would definitely get more creative with the silly nicknames had he given the green light for Parmesan. 

 Even so, Veeronica yelling “Cilantro”, whilst both being on the verge of tears and still chuckling from the ridiculousness of it all, certainly did confuse the killer for a moment. Perhaps it was because it was c00lkidd, he had long since become more sluggish in the games, not out of boredom, rather the guilt and exhaustion ebbing away at his energy. 

 If they ever made it out of here, would those kids, Bluudud, c00lkidd and Pr3tipriincess ever be able to recover from everything that has happened here? It would take time and with just how much of it they've spent here it would take even more time to learn to be a normal person again.

 Right now however, the kid was standing there, trying to understand why in Robloxia he was being called Cilantro, followed by oregano, then Chance, from some corner of the map, joining in and screaming parsley. Cici was unsure if he wanted to cry or not when c00lkidd slowly turned to face him and instead of asking to figure out what was happening, decided to join in, “Thyme.”

 The way he was maintaining eye contact and just said that made him want to curl up into a ball and ugly sob. Well, he could sob later, because of course, the lifeless cretin that brought them here was feeling so generous it either just decided double killer or new survivor be added to the ring. Lovely, he thought as his gaze immediately darted to the tear in time and space that appeared not too far from where he, c00lkidd and Vee stood. Chance and Guest had come by to help but stopped in their tracks upon seeing the rift.

 Not a moment later an oddly familiar motorcycle, to some, drove out of the rift, full speed and kicking up a cloud of dirt, though the truly absurd part that made everyone freeze up was when the person riding that damned red motorcycle took off his helmet.

 Elliot.

 The real one, even those who hadn't met him prior to the forsaken could tell, maybe because of the way he looked, maybe the way Chance’s expression changed for once, his usual poker face gone. He stared at them for a bit, gaze flitting between Cilantro, Chance and CK before briefly wandering over to the others he didn't know personally. 

 Though of course, before anyone could say anything serious, chance spoke up, pointing at the little feathery head poking out of Elliot’s shirt, “is that a baby?” He snorted, knowing it was coming, “and if it is?” Just the way he smiled was so different from the elliot they had known, well, Cilantro now. 

 But none of them, except those who'd known him before this hell had expected such a large burn scar to be covering half his face or him having a prosthetic arm. Either way, neither Chance nor Elliot seemed to have the mind to actually be serious, as Chance, being the faux idiot he enjoys to be, put his head in his hands and yelled, “you were pregnant?” 

 Elliot stared at him, silently asking if he was being serious right now before chucking his helmet at them, “close enough.” Stifling a laugh at Chance's yelp and dramatic fall backwards, he got off his bike, still holding Amiya, who was definitely not chewing on his vest right now. His gaze shifted to CK, who had more or less put together what was happening, seeing the guilt on his face. There wasn't much to say honestly, the kid couldn't be a good person here, he's grown, matured, but he can't redeem himself for his past misdeeds. 

 Not in literal hell made into a game. 

 “Keep doing what it tells you, it'll only get worse if ya don't." Elliot grumbled, patting c00lkidd on the head, a gesture Cilantro and the child himself hadn't expected, but it was much appreciated by the latter, knowing what he was doing wasn't his own fault. That he wasn't going to be blamed or hated for anything that's happening here, his relief couldn't have been greater. 

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 The round had ended early, the timer once again set to XX:XX, Elliot glared at it for a bit before being called over by Chance, Amiya still in his arms, babbling something incoherent. The moment he stepped into their little meeting room, he was met with all kinds of stares, none too trustworthy, except for those who knew him. 

 He managed a smile, laidback, though there was an anger in his eyes, just barely held back. “Whatever questions you have, I'm sure I can guess, so let me explain everything in order, yeah?” His words may have come out a little bit more impatient than he intended, but he was still extremely irritated with what that prick pulled earlier. Though he was glad they were actually listening, the nods and quiet mumbles were a nice thing to see and hear. 

 “Okay, to start, I was probably the first one here. Aside from that kid and the other guy. The first and only killer here at the time was Slasher, sure you guys know him.”  He waved his metallic hand, this felt insignificant to him, but not to everyone else here. “I stuck my nose where it didn't belong, the prick that brought us here sent me to my own hell and yada yada.” 

 Shedletsky frowned, his gaze sharpening, "why'd it send you back here?” Elliot pursed his lips, trying to withhold his anger and keep himself from cursing out the entirety of the universe, but he managed to take a breath and keep a level head as he gestured to Amiya, still in his arms, watching everything with curiosity. 

 “I tried creating a way out, well, more a way to send the prick to hell, but as you can see it backfired and I once again, got caught.” He sighed as amiya looked up at him before burying her face into the front of his shirt, "I wasn't trying to create a kid, more like something similar to the entity that brought us here. I must've messed up something in the code when I created them.” Honestly, to Shedletsky that was a pretty good explanation, he knows there is more that Elliot isn't saying, but he probably needs some time to cool off before going there. 

 Everyone was more or less taking his words without question, Cilantro however, had one more that maybe no one else was thinking since everything that is happening right now is so out of the blue, “then what am I? Why do I exist and… why do I have some of your memories and look like you did when you were younger?” 

 He frowned slightly, just from the look on his face they could all tell they, or at least Cilantro, wouldn't like hearing it. “You’re a clone,” he muttered eventually, hesitant but they knew he wasn't lying, something about the way he said it. “Of me, made to replace me since I was sent to that other place.” Two Time, standing beside Cilantro, they looked up at him after hearing that, their gaze filled with more concern than they had felt in a long time. 

 For him, the few minutes of silence felt like days, though he did end up stammering out and immediately regretting it, “what happens to me when it gets taken out?” his words sounded selfish, of course he didn't want them all to be stuck here forever, but he needed to know. Would he disappear if it disappears? 

 “Will I die? If it gets locked away or killed?”