Chapter Text
Outside this base, outside of the bunker that became a home for the citizens of Robloxia, the sun rose slowly, casting its blinding light onto the plants that have grown, glass that has not yet shattered, and anyone who woke up from their slumber, creating an opening for a new day full of whimsy.
When was the last time Caretaker felt that way?
They got out of bed, bleary-eyed and exhausted. The start of a new day only meant more bloodshed and tears, hours of just watching their co-workers die in gruesome ways, and listening to relentless cries for help before everything faded to black.
Caretaker was unfortunate enough to take on the role of a medic; in fact, they were one of the most commonly picked from their orientation to go out on missions, to take on the criminals out there.
They did not feel an ounce of thankfulness.
All of it felt so... pointless.
The constant pressure did not feel worth going through.
Why did Caretaker and many others have to witness the deaths of their loved ones so often it seemed as if it were part of a routine?
They were forced into silence. They were made to obey, no room for voicing what they think. That made only despair present and everlasting in Caretaker's eye.
They stretched out, the outer lighter brushing against their tan skin. They staggered to their closet, looking at its insides with a deadpan face. A noticeable portion of it was copies of the uniform they would put on all the time; a knee-length, button-down white coat that reached their neck from the top, its ends adorned with a vibrant shade of green. Sighing, they grabbed one of the sets, wearing it as they usually would.
...
Strolling through the wide corridors of the base, Caretaker quietly observed their surroundings, their eyes glowing gleefully at the sight.
The guards that managed everyone's outings and trips beyond the bunkers were all huddled up together, grinning and standing confidently.
Esterflowers tended to the crops in the main garden, the scent of herbs and roses reaching the farthest ends of the halls.
The loud and cheerful chatter of several crowds prepping for missions as they organized their tools drew more people in, adding onto those joyful conversations.
... Why was everything so oddly normal?
Did nobody here sit down and think about how the government is actively setting up their citizens' deaths? How their attempts of trying to weaken those horrible murderers out there is doing absolutely nothing? Why isn't anyone questioning the fact that such a large amount of people are willing to risk their lives and so much more when all that does is strike their families and friends with endless grief and misery at the loss?
Maybe Caretaker was the unusual one here.
They were told quite often that getting lost in such negative thoughts would do them no good, yet they could not keep those same thoughts at bay.
They could not let go of the fact that danger was all over the place, and it would get them at any moment if they were not being cautious enough.
They shook their head, as if it would shake away that small voice in it telling them that something bad was going to happen, warning them, begging them to do something about it. Caretaker did not care for that, as they did not envisage living happily anymore. They still put on a friendly smile, however, hiding the true state they were in as they waved to passers-by, heading towards the centre of the place.
...
Posters were scattered across the walls in disarray. All of them read the same thing:
"Robloxia's Weekly Updates."
Generally, nobody would willingly check it out. What use could they make out of such information when all their worries were shifted to everything on the outside of the base?
Caretaker looked behind them, watching a fluttering butterfly moving in every direction it could. Seemed like it was trying to find a home, some shelter. They grinned ever so slightly, hoping for it to reach its presumed goal, imagining a scenic view of such creatures eventually living here happily. A group of friends walked down the same hall, chitchatting before they all turned to the bug in synchronization, and killed it, no mercy shown in their eyes.
They watched it happen, and did not react in time to save it, even if its death meant nothing important to them.
They shook their head once again; more violently this time. Death was a constant companion now, they seemed to have forgotten that. It followed them around, never more than a blink away.
Death was everywhere, even on a local newspaper.
"As this week comes to an end, we, as the government of The City of Robloxia, would like to share some updates on anything noteworthy that could assist our townspeople and help keep them safe.
We have seen more of "Artful" (Jean Degaré Fromage) lately. Beware of any traces of him that you might find.
Killdroid is getting more dangerous by the day. There has been enough evidence to prove that it stopped attacking any criminal outside the government bunker, meaning that the killers will no longer be weakened at times before going against them.
Badware has gotten close to invading the bunker, using its nature as a virus to try and hack the security systems and much more tech. We have spotted a couple of its unnamed acquaintances, who behave just like it.
Harken was spotted nearby around 5 corpses a couple of hours ago, but left the scene in a rush straight after.
There were no documented sightings of Pursuer, only its fingerprints and footprints in the perimeter of the forest.
There were no documented sightings of Mequot, Devesto, Evil Guy, and many more. All are suspected of hiding somewhere.
The amount of missions is increasing in the near future, as the government is trying their best to capture these criminals and move back up to the surface. They are prioritizing Caretakers and Gunslingers, as they attempt to go for a balance in defense and offense.
Next update arrives on [?]-[?]-[?]."
Was there ever anything positive written on that thing anyway?
All of it was as pointless as ever.
...
"Hey, CT! Glad to have ya on the team once again!"
Caretaker instantly recognized that voice, subsequently turning to the source. One of the most well-known Revolvers on the roster. When will they ever be put in a new group? At least add a bit of spice to such a bleak cycle of running, healing, hiding, and watching people as they are dying.
"Hey... You seem really energetic, considering how early it is." They commented in their usual, timid voice.
"What can I tell ya? Gotta get used to this life when yer forced to deal with what it gives ya."
"And not because you're wasting time you can spend happily without putting yourself in a life or death situation almost everyday?"
"..." An awful moment of silence and awkward glances.
"... Aaand you're trying to make the most of whatever time you have left?"
"... Yer one morbid fella alright."
"Comes in the default package that you recieve as a doctor."
"Still, ye should really try to tone that shit down a bit."
"For your sake, I guess."
"For yer own too. Live life as happily as you can, River. It'll be worth it."
And then he left.
That last sentence suddenly stuck inside their head, the repetition of it resembling a noose around their neck.
Caretaker wanted to call out his name, bring him back and make him talk. Make him explain how he could say such a thing when he knows better than most that hope was useless in such a situation? That this was possibly their last conversation together? That this mission might be the last thing any of them might experience?
Rage. That is what they felt.
They were enraged by seeing such a mindset, but they could not pinpoint why.
They did not understand how positivity was an option. They hated that fact.
Yet they could never shake away the nagging sensation of discomfort whenever they think about being in a happier state.
It felt so unnatural, unreal.
Nothing felt real when all they could hear are the pitiful cries for help when someone is in danger.
They were wanted dead.
They never really helped those in need of a little bit of assistance, because all they would try to do is block out the deafening sound of death.
...
And there Caretaker was, grabbing their supplies and heading outside the gate, along with seven others who seemed unreasonably calm. They all headed towards a wide, snowy area, famous for its long wooden bridge that divides an entrance to Robloxia and the edge of it.
Tundra Trench.
And there he stood-- a fraud instead of a charming magician-- looking at the crowd who was ready to kill him.
He seemed to know their fate better than anyone did.
They will just have to wait and see.