Chapter Text
Simon remembered immense pain his skin burning, his arm, or where it used to be, still oozing blood, adding to the amount he was already covered in. He shut his eyes, letting the black box go, hoping that with what was left of the life jacket he had wrapped it with, it could float up to the people who needed it somewhere where it could help his people.
He owed Ava that.
He owed everyone that.
And he was right where he deserved to be.
Even if he died in the most painful way right now, he would still be at peace knowing the black box made it. He hoped the monster would focus only on him and leave the black box alone.
"Please..." Simon sobbed, gripping the pipe as the blood now made him float inside the sub. His grip was weak, but he tried his best not to let go.
"It's me you want... take me..."
Simon whimpered as the monster let out a roar, more monstrous teeth biting through the sub as if it had answered him and agreed to take him as the sacrifice.
The sub jostled violently, and his one working arm suddenly slipped.
He didn't have time to hold his breath as he was shaken violently from the inside.
Simon felt thick blood fill his lungs, his vision going dark as it burned when it came into contact with his eyes. He shut them tightly, mentally saying a prayer to whoever was out there if anyone was even out there.
Then he went numb.
Everything went black
_________
"Who the hell is that?"
A voice could be heard.
Simon's consciousness stirred, but none of his body cooperated. He couldn't open his eyes, too numb to feel anything. He wasn't even sure if he was breathing. But his mind was awake. His ears were clogged, yet he could definitely hear voices.
Where was he?
Did he make it?
Was he dead?
Was this the afterlife?
Hell?
The Father?
Mother...?
"Don't tell me this is someone one of you killed again."
"None of us killed anybody in the past week. I doubt anyone could lose that much blood and still be alive."
"Well, someone left him here!"
"Move."
Despite Simon being too disoriented to acknowledge anything right now, hearing that voice still sent shivers down his spine. The voice was deep. The ringing in his ears grew louder.
In his mind, he desperately wanted to move away. Every part of him that was still conscious sensed danger, but he couldn't move his body.
He felt eyes on him.
Voices talking about him.
Was he really back?
What were they going to do to him now?
Please...
Please, no more...
The group of men moved out of the way as someone, clearly their leader, stepped closer to examine the body. His cane thumped gently against the grass as he walked forward, close enough to get a good look at the bloodied stranger but not close enough to get blood on himself, considering the white suit and white shoes he wore.
"What is it, Dark?" someone asked.
Dark hummed and tilted his head. The man was dripping with a worrying amount of blood, covered from head to toe. It spread through the grass like a plague.
Dead bodies were not an unusual sight within the Manor after all, about 80% of the residents were killers. But this kind of corpse was certainly unusual.
Dark carefully lifted his cane and poked the man.
No response.
"Should we get Illinois to start digging for the poor dude?" someone said.
Dark ignored the side comments for a moment until his cane reached the man's face, moving the hair stuck to it.
In an instant, Dark's eyes widened.
Despite the blood and bruises covering the stranger's face, Dark's eyes never deceived him.
That face was unmistakably familiar.
"He's one of us..." Dark's eyebrows furrowed.
"He's WHAT?!"
Dark turned back to them, urgency suddenly in his voice.
"Get this man to the infirmary. Now."