Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Their body felt hollow.
Was this it? Was this the afterlife?
Their eyes fluttered open to see a dim bathroom surrounding them.
It definitely wasn’t the one from before though. The one that they never made it out of.
Their stomach and chest ached, leftovers from what exactly happened to them.
They overdosed. On what? They don’t know. Most likely fentanyl but it could have been anything else.

They barely had the strength to sit up, a groan of nausea and pain rolling from their now chap lips.
Being dead was not a question to Noob. They felt their life leave them. But here they were, slowly using the toilet to stand up, legs shaking.
One of the first things they noticed was how fuckibg cold it was in here. Maybe that was due to only being in a T-Shirt but that was a later issue.
As their eyes adjusted to the light around, and they nudged the door open, they saw a living room.
Not one they recognized though. This was, different. This was obvious some sort of cabin, everything being wooden and with fabric patterns that hurt their eyes.

“H-hello..?” Their voice was weak, full of rasp.

“Is anyone there..?”

There was no answer to their call.
So they started to look around.
The cabin was massive but, their voice just echoed on every wall.
No one was there.
With every room they checked; the kitchen, the cellar, the nine bedrooms upstairs and one in the cellar and now, the dining room.
There in the dining room there was a chalkboard with some writing on it.

“Welcome Noob.”

That was it, that was all.
At least whoever that was had the common courtesy not to deadname them but still, a bit more then a hello was in order.
They couldn’t help but stare at that writing on the board.

Was this hell?
Was this the eternal damnation they probably deserved?
The issue was, they felt this should be a lot worse if this was hell.
Or maybe they were just used to that immediate consequence. Maybe that was why they felt like they were in a waiting room, staring at their own name on a dusty chalkboard.
They find themself sniffling, finally noticing the dust that lingers around. This place is filthy.

So, might as well give them something to do.
So, they find a supply closet off to the side of the dining room, and find some cleaning supplies.
If they’re going to be stuck here, it’s not going to be a mess. They may be used to dust due to the urban exploring but they preferred not to live in filth.
It also helps to get their mind off this whole, problem. And more importantly, gets their mind off what happened.
They still feel like they could throw up at any second. They couldn’t tell if that shortness of breath was from all this dust or if it was from.. That.
They couldn’t breathe. Their chest felt like they wore their binder for a week straight. They couldn’t fucking breathe.

They can’t breathe.

The broom they were holding is now on the ground as they feel their body shake and tears spill from their eyes.
Maybe they deserve this. It’s their damn fault that all happened to Sixer.
It’s all their fucking fault.

With a sudden beat, they are no long standing on wooden planks, now in deep grass.

Where were they now?
What was strapped around their chest?
It had three pockets on it and was kind of heavy.

When they peeked in they understood why.
Bloxy Colas, some kind of potions and a whole ass burger.
They look around the area, seeing a box with a red top, a crumbling wall and a wide open field with no clear end to it. When they turn, they see a wall behind them.

No way out.

Chapter Text

“Get up.”

Jason shoots up, eyes wide behind that mask. He jolts off the couch, bashing his head into the coffee table it rested by.

It didn’t help the migraine coursing through his mind.

Though, it seems like it brought him a brief moment of clarity. He could remember for a brief moment.

The conscription mandate, the refusal, the lab.

He didn’t want to commit a genocide. Even if they took out the last guest, he knew it wouldn’t be the end. Any non-Bacon’s would have been the next victims. He couldn’t stand for it never mind with it. They didn’t like his refusal.

So they took him there.

Poked and prodded, treated like a caged animal and maybe he became one.

Because that book spoke to him in nightshade words and it only worsened when he fought.

He fought them, it told him to.

They stabbed the Necrobloxicon through his shoulder.

It would never bleed but malice poured from his veins.

All the action served to do was drive his mind further into its pages.

It took complete hold. So, they shot him in the back of the head with a 10 gauge shotgun.

It was the only thing that even remotely did anything to him.

“You're alive.”

That drags his consciousness back into that void.

“My child, shall we explore these new surroundings?”

Jason stands up and starts to walk. His feet drag as he does, pacing around the living room.

It’s an aimless shamble, guided by some being beyond using his body as it’s vessel once again.

Though, it was never meant to last long.

His body suddenly started to fade, a new voice entering his mind.

“Welcome Slasher. Would you like to hurt someone?”

Slasher? Was that his name? His brain was foggy, struggling to remember.

He appeared in a grassy knoll, crumbling walls scattered around him.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea! Doesn’t it Jason dear?”

That was his name, right?

“I demand blood. Kill them.”

And like the hound he became, he was destined to fetch.

…

Noob had to keep moving. Currently they had no idea where they were or what was really going on.

All they know is that their legs hurt from walking and their knees want to give out from underneath them.

No one told them being an unathletic loser would have drastic consequences within the afterlife yet here they were.

Their stomach was starting to rumble and throat was going dry as well. But they didn’t trust this ‘food’ they had on them, having no clue where it came from.

Though, it was mostly due to that persistent thought in their mind.

What if they were laced.  What if they put something in them too and Noob choked and died, they choked and died. They couldn’t breathe and they threw up and-

Noob needs a minute.

They lean against a wall, stomach churning at the idea. God they hate vomit. Maybe they always had but this, this was insane to them. What in their pathetic mind made them so afraid of vomit suddenly.

They could give themself that relief of knowing maybe it was due to that traumatic event that happened a couple hours prior but, they refused. Because, maybe after all of it, they deserved it.

This was obviously some type of punishment after all.

So, they continued their walk.

That was until they caught a glimpse of someone else’s shadow.

Noob froze up, catching the dark form continue to lurk behind.

They whip around and suddenly, their face is inches from a masked figure.

It breathes heavy and labored.

Noob immediately picks up on the smell of blood, musk and something burnt.

Noob stumbled back, watching the figure tilt their head in almost, curiosity.

A black hood was over their head, thick, almost rag like clothes cloaked the rest of their body.

Noob shrunk underneath them, knowing that 5’5” compared to what seemed like 6’2” was pitiful.

The man was silent.

The man’s head was not.

“Kill them.”

Jason just stared down at the person.

“Don’t you love your mother Jason?”

Jason did love his mother but, they were looking up at him with fear.

Do they know what’s going on, maybe they know what’s going on-

“KILL THEM.”

He was compelled to listen.

He raised the machete that rested in his palm and swung down.

Noob fell backwards, dodging the strike but becoming a frozen target.

Jason slashes once again, slamming the machete into Noob’s bracing arm.

It digs into their skin, making it about halfway through before Noob cried out and pulled back.

They stumbled up and Jason watched that fear in their eyes grow and grow.

“Make it hurt.”

Jason struck once again, the blow slashing across the fleeing Noob’s back, knocking them to the dirt.

They tried to brace the impact but, the force split that wound on their arm more, causing another shriek to spill from their lips.

Despite that, they still stood up and tried to run.

“Take them down!”

Jason lunged forwards, forcing Noob back to the ground.

He forced their face into the dirt, holding it there.

“Pl-please let me go please-” they beg.

“Don’t listen.”

“I-I didn’t do anything I-I-”

“Draw blood.”

“Please I don’t wanna die not again not again not again-”

“Mute their pathetic cries.”

“I’ll- I’ll do anything I-I swear just pl-please-”

“Why are you frozen Jason?”

“I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die please don’t kill me please-”

“Don’t you want to make your mother proud?”

Those words are what it took.

Jason slashed downwards, directly into the neck of the weeping angel.

It wasn’t a clean cut.

He struck over and over and over and over and over.

Noob didn’t want to die. Not again.

But they didn’t really have a say in the matter, did they?

So when Jason finally broke all the way through, their string was cut and they fell back into the nothingness.

But they didn’t stay dead.

Instead, they awoke where they once stood, body jolting back as a pained cry rang through the hollow cabin.

A message echoed in their mind.

“Slasher won.”

Noob didn’t care to process that at the moment.

They collapsed to their knees, letting their body be overtaken by sobs and shakes.

They died. They died again.

They died and they were helpless to do anything to stop it.

But on the other side, Jason stared at his hands. Those hands that were used to commit that heinous act.

And he swore he could feel his mother’s hand run through his hair, whispering in his ear,

“You did such a good job, mother loves you.”

Chapter Text

That burning feeling was still coursing through his lungs, dust and smoke being exhaled in one breath.

That breath turned into a cough, loud and obtrusive.

His body wracked with each cough, body feeling as it was splitting at its seams.

He gripped onto the cushion so he didn’t stumble off as he leaned off the edge, choking up sand and grime.

“O-oh my gosh ar-are you okay wh-who are you?”

Guest felt hands on his body.

He instinctively shoved them away, forgetting his own strength.

He only remembered when he heard a body go crashing over a coffee table, ceramic smashing on the floor.

“S-sorry I-” both spoke at the same time.

The two locked eyes, going quiet.

“I’m- s-sorry I-I scared you uh, I-I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry I pushed you. But uh, do you know where I am?”

The younger looked to the side, “Uh, I-I.. I’m sorry. I-I.. I don’t know what this place is either.. I-I wish I could be more helpful. Y-you think I would kn-know more considering I-I’ve been here for uh- I actually d-don’t know.”

“You don’t know..?”

“T-Time doesn’t really fl-flow here uh, it’s al-always dark out and, um, y-yeah.”

“Who.. are you?”

“My-my name? IT-it’s uh, Noob. Who.. are you?”

“Guest 1337. Or, just Guest is okay.”

“A.. Guest?”

Guest nods, slowly standing up. Despite his own head being woozy, he helps Noob up.

“I’m, I’m s-sorry, th-that was weird-”

“It’s okay.”

“I-I just knew a guest a while ago and I-I-”

“Noob, it’s okay.”

“Okay, okay um, well, uh, welcome..?”

“How long have you been here for again..?”

“I don’t really know uh, a time, honestly? Uh, a while. Um.”

Guest watched Noob’s eyes shake back and forth. Guest could tell one thing, they have been there a long while.

“Anyone else here..?”

“No, but yes, it’s uh, strange.”

“You’ve been alone all that time?”

“Uh- well, there’s um, him.”

“Who?”

Noob looks at the ground.

“I-I don’t know how long we have until w-we meet him.”

“Meet who?”

“Sl-slasher.”

“Slasher..?”

“Th-there’s something I c-call the rounds and uh, h-he kills me but uh, I think I’m supposed to survive but uh, I do, sometimes but um, he’s uh, a lot stronger and f-faster then me so uh- yeah, um.”

“What the.. Fuck?”

“Man I-I’m doing such a sh-shit job at introducing y-you to this uh-uh- let me- let me st-start over-”

He puts his hands on their shoulders, “Take a breath.”

Noob listens.

“Look, it, it’s, every couple of hours, I get teleported, somewhere. Th-there’s generators to fix and, uh, i just had to.. Survive a-about 7 or 8 hours.. While he came after me.”

“How did.. You end up in a situation like this.”

Noob finds themself just shrugging.

“U-um, if you're hungry, there’s food in the kitchen, uh, not much but it’s.. Edible. Or uh, I can show you around the place, there’s lots of extra bedrooms up-upstairs that you c-can take over, uh, yeah.”

“Have you tried to.. Get out?”

Noob just laughs quietly, “I-I.. I can’t find it if there i-is an exit.”

“You.. haven’t talked to anyone for a while, have you?” Guest raises his eyebrow.

“W-well, uh, Slasher isn’t th-the best conversationalist. H-he d-doesn’t sp-speak so um, not r-really. Look I-I’m not the one wh-who just arrived here, a-are you okay, you sh-should sit down, can I-I get you anything?”

“I-” he tenses up suddenly.

“Where’s the washroom?”

“J-just to the left-”

Guest walks off at their point, pushing down the short hallway and into the washroom.

He doesn;t mean for the door to close as loud as it does.

His hands slam down on the counter, nearly leaving cracks in it’s foundation.

He loses that grip he had on his breath.

What the fuck did he just do. What the fuck happened.

It was an instinct, a subconscious choice.

The choice to finish him whilst knowing he wouldn’t make it home.

His hands shakes as he opens the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out a folded photograph.

Unfolded, he sees their faces once again. The ones he left behind. His beloved Daisy and Charlotte.

The photo was taken by Matt, before the two left for war. A time when Guest could live peacefully with his family. Before he enlisted.

He was always a defender, someone who couldn’t stand for injustice.

He knew he had to go.

He also knew that in that moment, if he didn't take action someone else could end up hurt. Charlotte was technically half guest after all.

He doesn’t regret his choice.

But he does miss them already. Now they don’t have him, or Matt.

Matt died in his arms beforehand.

Guest looks down at his arms, no more blood on his sleeves.

It’s like nothing happened, like nothing he did even mattered.

All that was left was his memory of it all, a memory that he knew was already etching itself into his head, just like what happened at that damn playground.

His breath stays shallow, heart pumping out of his chest.

But, he’s drawn out of his daze when he hears a soft knock on the door.

It cracks open slightly.

“U-uh, um, I’m gonna l-leave some water and um, I got some peanut butter and some bread? Sorry I ran out of jam. Um, if you need t-to talk, I’ll l-listen. J-just, wh-whenever your r-ready.”

Guest hears those footsteps pattering away but, he calls out first, “Wait.”

They stop.

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“I-I.. I think i-it’s normal for s-someone to react l-like that.. I-I would be a hypocrite if I-I said otherwise. Em-emotions may, suck, b-but they’re real as they come a-and.. I-I’m sorry I don’t kn-know where I’m taking this..” they ramble.

“Seems like we’re both a mess..”

“Y-yeah, at l-least we can be messes together?”

Guest slowly opens the door, lifting the water and the makeshift sandwich off the floor.

“I’d take it over being alone any day.”

But neither had time to relish in that moment.

Guest was somewhere else. 

He was still holding onto the food but, now within a strange building, almost like an indoor playground.

He decided to take the moment to quickly gobble it down before walking forwards, leaving the dishes behind.

What did Noob say, 7 hours of this?

As he continued to walk, he couldn't help but mutter to himself, 

“Be strong.. Always be strong.”

…

It was hard to be strong when a machete was tearing through your flesh.

He could already tell there was a unique horror to this entire situation.

Coming upon Noob’s mangled corpse, a minute later discovering the perpetrator.

His quiet made it worse.

Guest was putting up a fight. Keyword: was.

One good strike left his thigh slashed open. Left unable to gain the proper footing to strike back.

“Wh-who the fuck..?” he groaned out.

The attacker just swung once again, Guest managing to catch the blade in his hands before using his remaining strength to kick forwards.

But, he lost his balance on that bad leg.

He crashed to the floor, bashing his head on the concrete below.

He looked upwards as the masked man leaned over.

He watched him stare down. He could swear they locked eyes beyond his mask.

But, before Guest could move, the blade stabbed downwards, through his heart.

Right through that photo.

“Slasher won.”

Guest shot up right after, almost crashing into the wall across from the bathroom door.

He stops his collision with his hands, heart pounding like it wouldn’t be pouring blood from every pump.

Before his mind can spiral like it wants, a voice breaks his trance.

“Guest, hey, l-let’s sit down that t-takes a lot from ya..”

A soft hand is placed on his upper arm, allowing himself to briefly catch his breath.

“D-do, do ya get used to that..?” he can’t help but ask.

“Y-Yeah.. It gets better. A-at least his machete’s not dull anymore..”

“It was.. Dull?”

“Story for another day.” Noob sighs.

“Now, c’mon, it should b-be a few h-hours before the n-next, I-I’ll.. Tell you all I-I know..”

“How about more on you?” Guest asks, letting the younger lead him towards the living room.

“Only if you tell me ab-about you too.” they let a soft smile show.

Chapter Text

His hands immediately went to his throat, gripping tight as if to compress a wound that wasn’t there.

Their breath returned at full force, a million a minute.

It took him a minute to process that he was even sitting up, never mind where he was.

What happened? His brain was foggy. His eyes jotted around the room.

But, he stopped when he saw a person on the floor.

“What happened?” He asks, looking at this person.

“U-uh, welcome t-to hell?”

“I-“ Eyes go wide behind dark shades.

He stands up and rushes from the room.

They find themself going down a staircase, almost falling down off of it.

They shove their way through a door, slamming it behind.

He died, didn’t he?

He launches the gun he barely even processed was in their hand.

The gun suddenly fires on impact, bullet grazing the side of his leg.

“FUCK!”

He was dead.

Was this really hell?

How could they not remember what happened? Why was it a blur?

Unbeknownst to them? It’s hard to form proper memories when the oxygen is being cut off from your system, trachea stabbed through. 

There was one concept he had a grip on, who he was last with.

Itrapped.

Itrapped, something appeared in his hand and then it was a blur.

A black sword maybe? He really couldn’t care to remember.

He was more focused on the man himself.

He was killed by his own boyfriend, wasn’t he?

Honestly? He should have known it would come. You can only joke so much about if you wind up dead, investigate your partner.

He just, he just thought he could run from fate per usual.

But even that catches up to you and lady luck decided to greet him with a kiss of death.

The worst part? He left Spade behind with that monster. He'd rather leave him with Mafioso.

Maybe he should have gave him up. Maybe he should have given him to his parents, at least until he stopped messing up so much around Itrapped.

But how do you even explain to someone that you can’t trust your boyfriend around your pet?

It’s just as difficult as explaining why you are covered in new cuts and bruises every time you leave your apartment. Or explaining why you're still with a man whom everyone hates. Or telling your mother that there's nothing wrong with your boyfriend calling you an ugly fat dumbass who doesn’t deserve love.

But Itrapped was willing to give him that love anyways.

But, Itrapped might have been right about him. He was fucking stupid.

Despite it all, he still stayed with Itrapped through all of it and look where it brought him.

It brought him here, wherever it is.

It’s then when they realize just how much he was crying, just how much their body was shaking, just how much everything hurts.

But, he sucks it all in, readjusting his glasses.

He walks over to the gun, tucking it into his interior jacket, not bothering to put the safety on.

He turns on his heels, walking out the door and back up the stairs.

He adjusts all his clothes as he does, making sure he looks at least somewhat presentable.

It doesn’t take long to reach the top and wander back into the living room.

There he sees two people, one seemingly comforting the one who fell before.

“Noob, he’s probably just struggling. It’ll be okay, he’ll be-”

“So…. what’s this whole.. situation about.” he gestures to the cabin interior.

“Ack!” they almost fall off the chair for a second time.

This time the blue haired man catches them.

“They always that jumpy?” they snort.

“Who are you?” the other asks.

“Name’s Chance.” he gives a lazy salute, “What’s your guys’ names-”

“YOU WERE JUST FREAKING OUT I-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there pal, I was not freaking out.”

“Y-YOU-”

“My name’s Guest.” the taller interrupts, “There’s no shame in panicking over this kid it’s-”

“Well, I wasn’t. Why would I be?” Chance bluffs, "Maybe a bit shocking at first but, this is nothing.”

“Uh, um, Noob. Anyways,” they start, “L-look uh, this, we need to explain this to y-you cause it’s, i-it’s not good.”

“How so?”

“It’s, i-it’s like a death game dude.”

“I like games.” he shrugs.

“Y-YOUR GOING TO DIE-”

“Noob, you’re going to give yourself an aneurysm, sit down.” Guest states.

“F-fine.. F-fine..”

“Have y’all.. Been here a while?” Chance can’t help but ask.

“Couldn’t give you an exact time frame but it.. It definitely feels like it. Though, Noob’s been here longer than me.” Guest speaks, “There’s technically one other here but, it’s a complicated situation.”

“Hm?”

“We really just call him Slasher. Don’t know much about him yet but, the game is that we’re sent to some kind of area and he hunts us. You fix generators and try to survive for seven or so hours.”

“Only seven? That’s easy.” he waves it off.

…

Chance was running for his life. Okay maybe it wouldn’t be that easy.

It was unsurprisingly hard to run in a full suit. Especially from this seeming super soldier chasing him.

Chance quickly checks how many bullets are loaded in the chamber. Three. He can work with that.

He points his gun behind him and completely misses his shot.

“That’s fine, that’s totally fine..” he mutters, hoping over a wall.

Slasher only just does the same, continuing to hunt like a heat-seeking missile.

Chance gets just ahead enough to properly turn and fire off that second shot.

The bullet flies and manages to land in Slasher’s hand.

Chance turns to run but briefly stumbles, suddenly being forced to remember that his leg was cut open earlier.

As he uses that momentum to push on, he starts flipping that coin over and over. It’s what gave him the bullets before so it has to work now, it has to.

But, he just keeps landing on tails, over and over again.

For a strange reason, it makes them nauseous, sore and overall tired.

With that energy depletion, it caused him to loose the faint grip he had on the coin and it falls to the floor, behind where he was.

“Shit shit shit shit shit”

He stumbles once again before quickly turning, and pulling the trigger one last time.

He only has a brief second to process that no bullet left the chamber. Right before his ears started to ring, a horrible burning feeling shooting through his arm.

They’re knocked backwards, flat onto their ass.

They turn to their arm, or where it would be.

It’s been left a pulsating, bleeding, mangled stub of flesh that practically cried out when exposed to the humid air around.

They couldn’t really process anything around.

All they knew is that they felt something slash across their neck and everything went black.

They opened their eyes slowly, sitting on the arm chair they once were.

It was a slow blink as he looked down at his arms.

It was alright?

What the hell even happened?

“Welcome back. Why are you looking at your hands?” Guest asks as he exits the kitchen, sliding what looks like some kind of smoothie over to Chance.

“My arm blew off.”

Guest spits out his own drink.

“My gun blew up when I shot it and it blew my forearm to shreds.” It's completely matter of fact.

“And you, aren’t freaking out..?”

“I lost.”

“Yeah.. you’ll have to get used to it.”

“It’s been a while since I lost at something.. This should be interesting.” a wide-eye smile grows on Chance’s face.

They don’t catch Guest’s concerned glance.

“Anywayyyyy, where’s Noob?” he tilts his head.

“Still in the round.”

“Is there any way we can like, keep tabs on that?”

“There.. Is the TV upstairs but I don’t recommend it. It’s not an easy watch.”

“Got it.” Chance nods.

At the end of the day, Chance knew he was fine dealing with his own death but Noob seemed genuinely sweet. Not the best person to see get brutalized.

“Why is your.. Leg still bleeding.”

Chance glances down.

“Oh. Heh, accidentally set my gun off before the round, guess it didn’t get fixed.”

“How do you accidentally set it off.”

“Unimportant-”

“Chance. Tell me.”

“I may or may not have thrown it…”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Guest has to stop himself from standing up and shaking them.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“Don’t tell Noob..?”

“Fine.”

“I was.. Maybe a bit upset about my whole, arrival here. And um, threw the thing I didn’t even realize I had on me.”

“How do you not realize.”

“I-I..” he switches to a bluff, “Guess I’m just iconic like that.”

Guest sighs, “Look, if you need to talk I’m here. Alright?”

“Yeah yeah, maybe another time. I got something better.”

“And that would be?”

“So.. you're that famous war hero.” Chance smirks.

“I’m the what?”

Chapter Text

A loud scream rang through that cabin, causing the masked one to jolt up.

There in the living room, arm already stabbed into the couch was a corrupted figure. Tall, broad and snarling.

“What are you doing? Kill him!”

And the obedient one listened. He drew his machete and charged the new one.

He was swatted at as the man ripped his arm from the couch.

He barely managed to duck under it.

He tackled the new one by the waist, pinning him and raising his machete.

But he forgot for that brief second he wasn’t stronger than everyone.

The positions got flipped.

He was now the one under attack, clawed arm raised as his machete was now a foot away.

But before he could finish the job, he vanished.

Vanished into a new area.

“Kill them all John Doe.”

John let out a growl of discontent but he already wanted to do that right now.

Something in his mind was telling him to hurt, telling him to seek and destroy.

He stomps on the ground, a faint energy showing itself. Then, his arm pulsates. It makes it look more flesh than it is.

But, in the distance, John can see echoes of three people.

Three pieces of meat.

Three new prey.

…

Chance rolls that set of dice only for the numbers to land low.

“Fuck I’ll need to re-roll that that’s worse then-“

Their head perks up when he hears the snapping of a branch.

“You’re not as sneaky as you think Slasher.” Chance mumbles.

He flips his coin one more time (Obviously it lands on tails) before standing up and starting a speed walk.

Their head stays on a swivel, staying low as they move.

The only sounds that are produced are quiet breathing and that metallic flip of the coin every few seconds.

He’s gotten better at flipping the coin whilst staying in motion.

It still did take a decent amount of concentration though. Concentration that maybe should have been used on the whole, moving forwards at high speeds thing.

But since when did Chance think about the consequences of his actions?

So Chance never saw that glitched patch of grass. He knew exactly when he stepped on it though.

Crackling energy shot up his leg to the rest of his body.

He barely manages to stay standing, ankles suddenly feeling like they either are jello or are sunk into it. Hard to tell when a shot of pain is coursing through your body.

It feels like pins and needles whilst at the same time, being stabbed with thousands of pins and needles.

Chance doesn’t even have a chance to react as he’s encircled by large black and red spikes.

Something leaps over them.

“You.. are not Slasher.” Chance blinks, “Oh my god you’re bald-“

Chance barely manages to stumble out of the way of a sudden lunge.

“She’s bald! She’s bald and she’s torturing people who have hair!” They shout as they finally find themself able to pick up speed once again.

They really don’t have a plan, maybe just wait and prey the spikes go back down?

He quickly checks his gym’s chamber, “One should be eno- AH SHIT!”

They jump out of the way of another strike, almost going face first into a spike. They decide based purely on the static that they can feel when he gets close that it’s not going to be good if they actually touch that.

They rush under another strike, to the other side of the ring.

They spin their flintlock on their finger before shouting, “Let’s dance bull!”

He pulls the trigger but, it just produced a sad click.

“Really, when I’m trying to be cool?”

The bald man launches forwards and Chance barely dodges but falls back to the ground.

“Can we, talk this through? I’m sure you’re a good guy.”

No response.

“God you are silent as Slasher, yike-”

Chance feels his chest being punctured.

It’s a near instant death, Chance only being able to take a brief second to consider (and forget) the consequences of their actions.

…

Guest lets out a laugh, “You know I still find it funny you're scared of him.”

“HOW IS HE JOKING AROUND?” Noob defends.

“I think that’s just, how they cope.”

“They blew their hand off, tried to wave at me then he said ‘whoops’. Just, ‘whoops’. That’s not a fucking whoops moment!”

“Okay, I’ll relent, there’s something with THAT part of ‘em. But, I think you’re overthinking this.”

“How. How am I overthinking this?”

“Have you ever considered that Chance is just an idiot?”

“HOW CAN HE BE THAT STUPID!”

“Have you.. Actually really sat and talked with them?”

“Yes.”

“Without me there?”

“...”

“...”

“No..”

Guest sighs and shakes his head, “Start with that okay?”

“How can he just.. Be so relaxed?” Noob sighs.

“I don't think they are. I think it’s more, I don’t know, what’s the word.. Ignoring the problem..?”

“How. How do they just, ignore this.”

“I just think you two are having opposite reactions to a tough situation. Plus.. it’s a hunch but, I feel like this is just how he’s been coping most of his life. Reminds me of a few of my fellow soldiers. Would joke about the worst of the worst and through even worse than that but, you knew they were just as scared as the rest of us.”

“I am just sick of dying and then him showing up and making jokes about him getting decapitated.”

“Tell him they make you uncomfortable then.”

“What? No, I can’t-”

“I can tell you, he will stop if it does-”

The two could hear heavy footsteps slowly approaching.

“Get behind-”

Something was launched at the two.

A severed head, eyes wide, mouth agape, tongue ripped out.

Seems like someone did not enjoy Chance’s talking.

They saw the thrower approaching, as behind him, a wall of spikes was formed that curved around, trapping the two in.

And, before either could properly react, the attacker charged past Guest and went straight for Noob.

Noob was forced up against the wall, the pain of the sudden impact and that stabbing sensation stopping them from grabbing that slateskin potion.

And before Guest could even move to help?

The attacker had stabbed Noob through the chest, using their other clawed hand to rip out the younger’s intestines.

This. This wasn’t Slasher.

Someone new was here and they were going to be an issue.

Guest hesitated to run. He looked down at the wide eyed Noob in that time. At the limp body on the floor. Facing death once again.

Maybe Guest was starting to grasp Noob’s concerns.

Guest was snapped out of it when a corrupted arm was slashed in his direction. He ducked under it and made a run for it.

…

The hunt was all that was on his mind. The search for that last one he needed to destroy.

His arm continued to pulsate like his still beating heart inside.

That heart was always working over time to counteract all that became of him.

What did become of him? He couldn't remember. He knew he wasn’t always this though. At least, deep down. 

Right now? He needed more bloodshed, to wipe more Robloxians off the map.

So when he saw one hammering away at a generator, breathing heavy.

It was a no brainer to sneak up behind and stab him through the chest.

And just for good measure.

He let his head fall before reaching down and ripping it clean off.

“John Doe won.”

Right, that was his name.

He was now back in that living room.

He stared at the masked man who looked back, weapon drawn and a makeshift sheild made from a scrap piece of metal.

Both knew at the end of the day, they were stuck with each other here.

So, John managed to hack out one word.

“Truce.”

…

“And we got a new killer to-” Guest cuts himself off, deciding to let the scene in front of him unfold.

“H-How is this fair, isn’t your whole th-thing luck?” Noob snorts.

“Your the one who chose to play war and I, just so happen, to be awesome at it.”

“I-it’s just luck.”

“And I, am lucky.”

“W-we’re playing Sl-slapjack now.”

“I’ll beat your ass at that too!” Chance laughs.

“You’re on.” Noob smiles.

Guest decides, he probably should let them be. He could use a work out anyways.

“Now where was that old comforter..”

Chapter Text

“Ace of diamond?” Chance asks.

“Go fish.” Guest states, still rearranging the cards in his hands.

“Oh c’monnn, you have to have one-”

“Bro, I don’t have it.”

“Noob-”

“It’s no l-longer your turn Chance.” Noob rolls their eyes, “Now, do-do you got an ace of di-diamonds.”

Chance lets out a long and dramatic sigh as he passes over the ace of diamonds.

Noob quickly places their match on the table.

Behind Chance, with a glitch of the air, someone appears on the couch.

Noob jumps with a shout, Guest just blinks and Chance turns before smirking.

“Ooo, new guy-”

“CH-CHANCE IT’S NOT GOOD SOMEONE ELSE IS-”

“Okay both of you relax.” Guest sighs, standing up and walking over to the new person, still unconscious on the couch.

They rested unconscious still.

Messy black hair, gaunt body, pasty skin. They’re wearing a black tanktop and black pants. That tanktop has a strange symbol on it, one Guest really didn’t recognize.

Above the symbol, their hands were raised, holding a dagger close to their chest.

The second person to come with a weapon now.

Guest is tempted to take it away to not have another incident of self-injury.

But, before he could, the person suddenly sat up.

“PROPHET I- I-I..” their dark eyes jolt everywhere around the room.

“Hey. Take a breath-" he puts his hands on their shoulders.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” they swing that dagger.

Guest barely manages to block the blow with his arm.

Noob has already leapt over the chair whilst he catches a glimpse of Chance with a hand on his gun in it’s holster.

“We’re not here to hurt you bud, just take a breath for me okay?” Guest has to take a breath of his own.

“The Spawn, I should be back- The Spawn- The Spawn why didn’t he revive me the Spawn-“ they ramble.

“W-well I-I can feel my- my body, The Spawn , The Spawn did bring me back!”

“The whozits whats-it?” Chance blinks.

They shove Guest out of the way in order to stand up before stumbling over to Chance.

“The Spawn! You’ve never heard of his glory? I can tell you all about him!”

“Uh, the only god I worship is Lady Luck.” Chance catches the hint

“Oh, so you’re a sinner then!” It’s said with all too much glee causing Chance’s face to scrunch, “I can fix you don’t-“

“You can what now?”

Meanwhile, Noob snuck past the two and over to Guest, whisper shouting at the man, “Oh my god are you okay is your arm-“

“Stings a bit but nothing some gauze and disinfectant can’t help.”

“W-we sh-should hurry u-up and d-do that, a-a person coming us-usually means a r-round is coming soon. I-I c-can also sew your j-jacket after-”

“Oh my fucking god dude I don’t care about whatever cult you were in!” Chance snaps.

“Bro they broke Chance..” Noob mumbles.

“I am just trying to sing the praises of the church of the Spawn!”

“Nah, I’m not joining your cult.”

“It’s not a cult! It’s- The Spawn is amazing and respawns people! You could have a second life as well since you seemingly wasted yours-”

“That’s fucking it you fucking rat-”

Guest has to quickly stand up and grab Chance before they swing at the new person.

Guest feels Chance’s body completely tense up so, he just plops him on the couch.

“Well.. uh-uh what’s y-your name?” Noob stutters, trying to form a distraction.

“I’m Two Time.” they smile, “You?”

“U-uh Noob.”

“Would you like to hear about the grace of the Spawn?”

“Not really-”

“Well The Spawn is this wonderful presence-”

Before they can finish, all are teleported to another place.

…

Two Time hums as they walk across a bridge, heading away from a large tree they left covered in carvings of the Spawn.

They kneel down in front of the bridge, looking at the tree for a second before using their knife to draw that same symbol on the floor.

“Spawn, may you please bless me in these trying times. Keep my aim and mind true.”

They continue to speak as the sound of wood creaking and cracking rings.

“I am devoted to you and your prophet alone. I will keep your needs satiated. Thank you for keeping me alive, healthy and happy today. Please give me the strength to convert these three strange sinners to your holiness. In return, I will keep spreading your word, and your symbol.”

They finish their sketch, and place their dagger pointing towards the symbol, in front of them. Then, they place their hands, palms up onto their thighs.

“I am solely devoted to you and the prophet, a-and, just you and the prophet no one else.”

“I act out your will a-and your will alone. Only yours. Only.. yours.”

But another name echoes in their mind. Azurewrath.

“I ask one more thing, sorry if it’s too much. I ask if you could possibly speak to me about the current state of Azure. He should, he should be back by now, correct? I’m truly sorry for rushing you but, I would like to know, if, if they are okay? I think I’m okay, I would rather them be okay though-”

“My apologies. That was selfish. I will punish myself later for it.”

“I will be greater than my previous faulty self. I swear it.”

“Thank you for your grace Spawn. Praise be-”

A machete splits the back of their skull, brain matter bursting out.

Maybe they should have been paying more attention to their surroundings.

But, as the wielder begins to walk away.

Two Time changes.

Two Time’s body unnaturally recenters itself onto the symbol they just drew.

A pain course through their veins, bones breaking and elongating and shifting.

Spikes force their way out of their back and their tailbone grows and grows until it breaks skin. Both curve in unnatural ways.

They try not to scream, ending up biting their lip hard enough to break it.

The masked man just.. Stands there. Honestly, confused.

Their breath slowly comes to a crawl, eyes wide but left in pinpoints.

They grab their dagger and stab the man in the ankle.

The masked man lets out a pained cry as Two Time attempts to rush off.

The man grabs their newfound tail and yanks them back, letting them fall onto the sharp end of his machete. It passed directly through that glowing symbol on their shirt which, somehow has spread to their chest.

All before he ripped it free before stabbing Two Time through the forehead.

But, the ‘Spawn’ brought them back once again, back in the living room.

There they stand in the center of it, eyes darting around.

Where were they again? They should probably figure that out.

No, the Spawn will share that information when needed! They need to worship!

…

Noob was the next to appear in the living room, blinking as they look at the far wall before shouting, “WHY IS THE SYMBOL HERE TOO NOW-”

The once empty wooden wall was now completely covered floor to ceiling in carvings and drawings of that damn symbol. The one Noob saw COVERING the once kind of pretty tree.

“I drew it.” Two Time practically appears behind them.

“AHHH ON JESUS CHRIST’S NAME-”

“Who’s that?”

Chapter Text

His eyes were fluttering open at a snail’s pace.

Was he.. he in heaven? There seemed to be an angel looking down on him.

But as his eyes finished their flutter and adjusted to the light, he realized it was just a pretty boy with a tooth gap.

As he sat up he slowly pushed the person, face away.

Who knew death would bring on such a migraine?

The realization that he died on the job hit like a ton of bricks (that that little shit probably threw).

He just let out a long sigh.

“Welcome to the closest thing we’ll see to an afterlife pal.” They snort.

He gets a better look at him. Fedora, sunglasses inside, a mullet-ish thing. A tooth gap.

He decides to not waste his breath on a response.

“Seems like you got stuck here in your work uniform. Yikes.” They hum, sorting up on the web of the couch he was on.

“Seems like you got stuck in the 20s.”

“Touché.” they snort before extending his hand, “Name’s Chance.”

“Elliot.” he hesitates before shaking it.

“You seem.. Eerily calm.”

“Yeah, I’m still in service mode, give me about an hour.”

“Oh, chill.” he nods, “What’s service mode..?”

“Fucking nepo babies..” he scoffs under his breath.

“Hey would you like to hear about the glory of-”

“FUCKING HELL-” Elliot jumps at the sudden voice behind them.

“Would you like to hear about the glory of the Spawn?”

“Two Time, knock it off, he just fuckin’ got here. Probably a bit of an emotional mess.”

“Yes. That is the best time to convert someone.”

“Bro what the fu-” Chance is interrupted by another person entering the living room.

“What is going on- and, hello there.” He's wearing a soldier’s uniform.

“This is Elliot, whom Two Time is already trying to convert.” Chance gestures.

“Two Time, give it two rounds at least.”

“Fine…” they sigh, slinking off with a pout.

“Hey where’s Noob?” Chance asks the blue haired man.

“Asleep. Last round took it out of them. Though,” he paused before turning to Elliot,  “I’m surprised you’re not freaking out at all.”

“Well looking at the state of that black haired dude, I’ll crack in a few hours.”

“They’ve actually been here the shortest.” Chance hums.

“Chan-“

“Really now? We’re they spanked too hard or not hard enough?”

“Wha-”

“Hm, definitely too much.”

“What are you guys even talking about?” the taller pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Look, if that guy, uh, Two Time right? The rest of you all seem mentally stable so I’ll be fi-”

“AHHHH THERE’S A SPIDER IN THE BATHROOM!” a high pitched voice squeals running through the living room.

“I got it.” Elliot stands up on pure instinct.

But, when he stands up, he’s somewhere else.

A field with a massive home in the distance.

“Fuck me..” he mutters.

He begins to walk immediately, not knowing where to just, he knows if he stops he’ll crack.

He really can’t afford to crack right now. 

But as he walks, he can feel tears starting to run from his cheeks.

His hands go to his arms as he starts loosing that ability to walk in a straight line.

He lets a sniffle slip but that sniffle turns into a whine turns into a sob.

He just wanted to hold it together. He should be able to just, hold it together.

But he couldn’t.

He was crumbling, cracking at the seams he tried to self-medicate.

Fuck. He died.

He died on the fucking job, for the fucking job.

For his fucking father.

Jumped in a home you were supposed to deliver food to is not a fun time.

Having your head caved in completely os mot a fun time.

It’s not like his death was quick.

Builder Brother’s Pizza promises quick delivery so why couldn’t they deliver whatever justice that killer was serving in a timely manner as well?

He stumbled against the wall, letting himself crash against it.

He just wanted to go home, make some shitty comfort food and canned cocktail from the fridge and binge watch romcoms.

He wanted to end up in stupid arguments with his dad about pay and with his sister about crushes.

He just wanted to feel held again.

But he was left to hold himself, alone once again.

…

 Elliot swore he heard an explosion ring out.

For some reason he was running towards it. He swore when it happened he saw a flash of colour, almost an outline.

When he reaches that area, he saw something he didn’t want to.

Chance, arm completely blown off.

Elliot rushed over to them, crouching down in from of him.

“Oh my fuck what happened who did this what happened.” he rambles.

“Eh..” Chance was audibly still in some state of shock, “I just like.. Blew my arm off again.. It’s fine.”

“YOU BLEW YOUR OWN ARM OFF OH MY GOD-”

Suddenly, an entire pizza appeared in Elliot’s arms. It was split into eight slices that he quickly managed to save from falling to the floor, “WHAT THE HELL!”

“Oooo pizza, haven’t had that for a WHILE.” Chance goes to take one but stops, looking up for permission.

“Uh, go ahead.”

Chance takes a slice with his good hand and Elliot watches it turn into a slice of margarita pizza.

Chance quickly gobbles it down and Elliot watches as that forearm wound slowly closes and becomes just a nub.

“How the hell..” Elliot mutters.

“Hm? Oh hey my arms healed.”

“YOU JUST NOTICED?!”

“Chilllllll, it’s fine, can I have another slice?”

“Fuckin’.. Know yourself out. God you are such a himbo.” Elliot groans.

“I’ll take that as a compliment pal.” they do take another slice and begin to eat it (a bit slower this time).

“You should try it, it’s so good.”

“I’m fine.” he sighs.

“Ya sure? There’s like, six more slices.”

“Everyone else gets two. I had pizza recently, sounds like you guys haven’t had it for a while.”

“Yeah but-”

“I hope I can at least summon the slices one by one, that would be useful..”

“Don’t-”

Elliot stands up, “I’m gonna go find the others, you can come with if you want.”

“You aren't listen-”

“I’m fine Chance. I’m completely fine.”

“Yeah, I tried that lie when I got here.” they stand up.

“I’m fine. I have to be.”

“You don’t have to be anything-”

The two are suddenly separated by large spikes protruding from the ground.

Chance jumps back but Elliot gets his arm punctured, briefly dragging him upwards.

Gravity drags his arm and body back down, hole only widening.

His body feels like it’s being punctured metaphorically and literally.

He manages to rip his arm off, falling backwards into the grass.

He hears footsteps rushing up, so he instinctively ducks.

He watches a jagged limb swing above him.

He crawls back, arm wanting to collapse in on itself.

There was nothing he could do as the arm hit him, knocking him fully to the ground.

With one more strike, he can’t tell what exactly happened but, he thinks his lungs popped from the pressure.

He gasps for air as he’s forced back to a standing position.

He can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe.

“Hey.. Elliot? It’s Guest. Or um, I never did give you my name did I?”

He feels hands being placed onto his upper arms, “Your safe, it’s okay.  Your out of the round.”

“I-I d-died.” it’s all he manages to choke out.

“Yeah, I know.”

“.. Used to it..?”

Guest takes a breath, “Yeah, I am.”

“I’m a-a fuckin’ wreck.”

“No shame in that.”

“D-don’t lie to me man.” he brushes his arms off, eyes finally clearing, seeing him properly, “I get it, like I do but, I would feel better if I could chill for a second.”

“El-”

“Do you guys have a kitchen?” Elliot asks.

“Yeah? I can make you something if your hungry.” Guest gestures to an open doorway.

Elliot walks past him, “I’ll make everyone some food.”

“You don’t have to, honestly we don’t have much to make.” Guest sighs.

“I’ll figure it out, I always do.”