Chapter Text
The atmosphere inside the cabin was unusually serene tonight. When they weren’t fighting for their lives, the survivors did their best to make peace with their situation and enjoy the downtime between games. Everyone took the opportunity to relax, pushing every other worry aside to make room for some much-needed rest.
The quieter members tended to isolate themselves, retreating to a quiet corner in the room to recover from the intensity of the previous match. Others, however, found comfort in conversation, using chatter to ease their anxieties.
Shedletsky neatly fit into the latter group. He thrived in the company of his teammates, wearing a constant welcoming expression on his face.
The man lounged among the other former admins, discussing past games and bragging about the clever plays he’d pulled off to outsmart the killer.
“…So he turns the corner, right? And guess who was met with a mouthful of steel!” Shedletsky grinned, leaning back into the couch with a triumphant laugh.
His energy during matches was unmatched - always joking, taunting the killer, and slashing his sword at them with confidence. Even in such a hopeless situation, his attitude was undeniably inspiring.
A nod and a quiet chuckle came from the person seated beside him. Builderman listened more than he spoke, preferring to engage passively as his friend continued jumping between retelling different situations. It was easier that way, letting Shedletsky’s voice fill the space.
Builderman’s personality wasn’t nearly as bold; more often than not, he was exhausted and worn down by stress. But despite the clash in their personalities, the two had remained good friends even through thick and thin.
“I would’ve been too embarrassed to keep chasing you if I were the killer…” Builderman shrugged, offering the avian man an approving smile.
Across the table sat Dusekkar, leisurely stirring the hot cup of tea nestled in his hands. He watched the other two admins discuss the previous games, a slight smile resting on his face as his attention remained immersed in their chatter.
Much like Builderman, he preferred to stay quiet, content to let Shedletsky lead the conversation. He nodded along at every point the man brought up, finding comfort in simply watching his friends speak freely of the situation. After everything that had transpired before their eventual capture, moments like these felt like a gift.
“It is a blessing to have such a gifted fighter as an ally.” Dusekkar finally spoke up during a quiet moment, setting his cup down with a faint clink against the glass table.
“Wasn’t so gifted about a week ago…” A sly grin tugged at Builderman’s lips as he made the remark. He watched as Shedletsky’s attention suddenly snapped towards him, looking almost insulted by it.
“Oh, come on! I was just having some really bad luck!” Shedletsky groaned, dismissively waving his hand as if brushing the comment aside. “I’m sure a certain someone siphoned it out of me in exchange for a few good shots.”
The other two chuckled at his obvious annoyance. Shedletsky huffed, then reached for the steaming cup in front of him - one Matt had slid his way while he was lost in storytelling. The warmth of the drink spread across his core, offering a much-appreciated sense of comfort before the next game inevitably begins.
---
Admittedly, even Shedletsky was amused by how easily he began to accept their situation. Even if he was destined to remain here forever, trapped in these stupid death games alongside his friends, he refused to let it weigh on his mind.
A lot had happened before he ended up forsaken. Back when he was still Telamon, his admin self, the avian had survived countless battles and witnessed more of the world than he could dare to ask for. All things considered, Shedletsky felt a fair amount of contentment with the life he had managed to live.
The threat of eternity still lingered in the deepest corners of his thoughts, but his optimism kept him mostly hopeful. Perhaps one day they would escape, and he could start anew - with a clean slate, as someone entirely different.
Because as much as he enjoyed reminiscing about his past, he knew one thing for certain: there was no way he deserved to return to it and continue living the same life again.
As Shedletsky’s thoughts turned against him, he found himself once again succumbing to a familiar sense of guilt. Most of the time he was strong enough to push it down, but tonight, having allowed himself to relax among familiar faces, it struck when he was at his most vulnerable.
After a few minutes of half-listening to the other survivors’ lighthearted chatter, he set his empty cup down and rose from his seat.
“I’ll go take a breather, if you guys don’t mind.” He offered them a reassuring smile before heading towards the cabin’s front door.
“The weather’s freezing tonight… don’t stay out too long.” Dusekkar warned him, with a tinge of concern present in his voice.
Shedletsky nodded, pushing the door open just wide enough to slip through before quickly shutting it behind him, careful not to let the cold air inside.
---
The icy night air hit him almost instantly. A gust of wind brushed against his feathers and skin, forcing a shiver out of him. He exhaled slowly, watching a faint cloud of breath dissolve into nothing.
He made his way towards the dock beside the cabin, listening as the wind whistled through the densely packed pine trees. As his body adjusted to the sudden drop in temperature, the sting of the cold began to feel strangely pleasant, grounding even.
Lowering himself onto the edge of the wooden dock, he heard it quietly creak beneath his weight. The avian's gaze settled on the endless expanse of water before him; how gentle ripples glimmered beneath the moonlight, illuminating the smooth boulders that jutted from the lake.
Farther out, silhouettes of solitary islands peeked through the fog - unexplored by any of the survivors, yet always present. There was something comforting about them, as if their existence promised that beneath all this uncertainty, a way out of this hell was waiting.
Shedletsky went still, staring into the vastness as his senses focused on the sound of the wind, and the soft whisper of waves swashing against the dock. For a moment, everything else faded away.
Despite being aware of the type of realm he was stuck in, he couldn’t help but admire the beautiful night.
…But that peace didn’t last very long. The silence, lacking any distractions, gave way for the thoughts he’d been trying so desperately to escape.
The idea of never returning to his former life circled his mind endlessly. It was filled with triumphs and achievements, moments worth remembering - but he would never forgive himself for the very last termination he was meant to carry out.
Shedletsky—no, Telamon—should never have believed that banishing his own creation would be simple. At the time, he could’ve sworn that he felt no remorse or hesitation. Yet that day had marked the beginning of the end, the final nail in the coffin of his identity as an admin.
If only he hadn’t been so dismissive of their corruption. If only his code had been flawless from the start. If only--
...But there was no place for what ifs anymore. All he could do now was endure their wrath, over and over again. Watch as they bolted past every other survivor, blades cutting through the air at lightning speeds, driven by a single purpose - to erase him from their sight as quickly as possible.
This was something he could never bring himself to confess to his friends, but deep down, he longed for a second chance. The shame weighed heavily on his mind whenever he was forced to meet them face-to-face, and with each passing game, it became harder to ignore.
---
A dull pressure dug into Shedletsky's brain, quickly growing into a nagging sting of a headache. He rested his head in one hand, fingers burying into his hair. Maybe he’d been worrying too much, or it was the cold finally piercing through his skin.
At least the sudden discomfort pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. With a slow breath, the avian shut his eyes and tried to relax his mind, hoping the pain would alleviate if he simply waited long enough.
Seconds passed. And then a few more... But the ache only intensified.
With a frustrated exhale, Shedletsky decided it would be wiser to head back inside before he got himself sick - just as Matt had warned him. He shifted to get back on his feet, but the world faltered beneath him. His vision spun, and before he could catch himself, he dropped back onto the dock with a thud.
A sudden, stabbing pain tore through his skull.
He clutched his head, as a hiss escaped his throat.
“The hell…” he muttered, barely forming a word as the pain bloomed into something more alarming.
His senses went numb one by one. Strength drained from his limbs, leaving them unresponsive. Shedletsky collapsed fully against the wooden boards, the surrounding chill biting into his skin.
Every nerve in his body screamed at him to do something, yet he couldn’t cry out. Couldn’t move. Panic raced through his thoughts as he waited for the inevitable end…
Then, slowly, his senses began to return.
But this wasn’t the dock.
Nor was it the island.
---
Shedletsky cracked one eye open, the rest of his body still shivering from persistent waves of pain. The world before him... wasn’t anything he could ever put into words.
Colors bled into one another, twisting into ever-changing shapes. Forms attempting to resemble concepts - humanoid silhouettes, endless fields of land - only to fall apart moments later, the vast expanse itself unsure of what it wished to represent.
The sight was so overwhelming, that for a moment Shedletsky wondered if this was death.
Gradually, the chaos began to settle. The void flickered, and within it he began to see places he had once known. Structures and landscapes from his past life, flashing with seemingly no order.
Was this meant to be his punishment? His own personal hell, working as a reminder of everything he once was and lost - all on display before him to torment his already wrecked spirit.
As the pain attacking his senses slowly subsided, something else came to his attention. A different kind of ache digging into his bones, one that felt unpleasantly familiar...
It took him a moment to recognize it.
His eyes widened as he spotted a green glow in the corner of his vision. The air crackled with static, its power beaming against his feathers and skin.
With a great amount of hesitation, Shedletsky turned his head towards the source of the light.
Amidst the flashing imagery surrounding him, there was one thing that remained whole, unchanging.
Before him stood the very consequence of his reckless actions, his selfishness and hatred. They stared back at him with utter disgust, almost trembling with barely restrained fury.
“Don’t you fucking dare move an inch.” 1x1x1x1 snarled, their voice ringing in the man's ears with intensity.