Chapter Text
007n7 felt goosebumps rise along his skin as a cold wind blew past, as if even the air was hostile in this realm. Quickly, he pulled his black, red-trimmed jacket tighter around himself, as if it would help.
Ignoring the wooden steps creaking under his weight, the retired exploiter carefully made his way off of the porch, red tail flicking anxiously behind him. Taking a deep breath, the man’s brown eye locks onto the basement doors attached to the side of the building. Not wanting to knock yet, he recalls the events of the past week instead...
It wasn’t exactly out of the blue when Jane Doe had shown up, but it was certainly a surprise.
They’d been planning out what to do for nearly a month before March 18th, the Spectre taking mercy upon them and gifting the survivors a calendar along with their usual supplies—also serving as a cruel reminder of how long they’d been trapped. But even with the prep time, just as expected, the day was an absolute slaughter. And the extra 4 rounds certainly didn’t make it any better...
What wasn’t expected, however, was a woman dressed in black to appear after the final match. While very distraught and agitated at first, the purple-eyed woman had quickly picked up on what had happened. Much better than most of them had, at least... Probably because she had noticed that almost everyone there was a somewhat-famous figure in Robloxia who had gone missing or died in recent years.
Despite being openly dismissive of Builderman, he—as the leader of the survivors—introduced her to the others. But after only her first day here, the woman had abandoned her cabin and moved under the main building they resided in during the rounds. It was surprising to see that she’d relocated all of their supplies to the now-empty home, but nobody commented on it.
She didn’t speak to the other survivors often, preferring to stay isolated in her research of the Forsaken realm... That’s probably why she hadn’t joined them tonight. It was Chance’s turn to tell everyone about dinner, and 007n7 doubts they recalled their newest member.
And that leads to the present. Him, standing a few feet away from the basement entrance, about to go down and ask Jane Doe if she’d been invited to dinner or if she’d simply declined. Of course, he wasn’t usually this nervous, but first impressions mattered a lot. Especially when it’s one of the few people you’ll be seeing for possible eternity.
Sighing again, the brunette’s tail whips through the air to help rid himself of the anxious feeling, before stepping forwards and knocking gently on the door. He already felt the urge to just leave, but making sure his teammates were fed was the least he could do.
... Not like he did much for them in rounds...
Luckily, the thought dies as quickly as it formed, the demon hearing a faint call from deep within the cellar. Surely that’s permission to enter, right?
Taking it as such, 007n7 hesitantly opens the doors, staring into the darkness below. The faint light of a lantern illuminating the bottom of the ladder leaned against the wall is the only clue that somebody’s down there.
Red tail coiling around the wooden planks for stability, the demon slowly began lowering himself down into the basement, landing on plank-flooring with a heavy thud. Turning, he looked around the dimly lit room before advancing.
Papers were strewn everywhere, some pinned to the walls, some messily piled, and some scattered across the ground, a few even marked with footsteps. Along with the papers, there were books lying around the room too, covers displaying a wide variety of subjects, and a half-empty shelf of them sitting in the corner... Wait- they had books this whole time?!
Ignoring that fact for the moment, the demon concludes his analysis of the room by taking note of a desk to his left, a black-clothed woman seated behind it, staring intently at an open book and a few papers covered with notes. Jane Doe only spares 007n7 a short glance, before looking back down, waiting for him to speak first and state his reason for being there.
Unfortunately for her, the man takes an embarrassingly long time to realize what’s expected of him, curiously peering at the documents pinned to the wall instead. They seemed to be notes about some of the admins, which piqued the brunette’s curiosity and stole his attention. It takes until the widow clears her throat and breaks the silence for the man to notice.
“Oh, uhm-... My apologies,” he mutters, turning away from the investigation on the wall to face her. So much for first impressions. “I had... Noticed you weren’t in the cabin for dinner. We can’t die here, but we’re still affected by hunger and shortages of energy. Uh- I'd assumed Chance had forgotten to tell you that the food was ready, and came to check.” 007n7 shifts his weight. Maybe she’d just declined, and he’d disturbed the investigator’s research for nothing.
“... Hm,” she hums, not yet speaking. Her voice is deep and smooth, almost unfitting for a woman in perpetual mourning. Then, she suddenly stood, chair legs screeching loudly against the floor like nails on a chalkboard. “They had, it seems.” Jane Doe’s voice is perfectly even, holding no irritation or resentment towards the error. “... Assuming you’ve already eaten, wait here. Don’t touch anything; I assure you that I can tell if you do.”
Without giving the retired exploiter a chance to reply, she strides confidently around the desk and to the ladder, before quickly scaling it with surprising ease for her lean figure. The heavy wooden trapdoors to the basement close loudly behind the widow. “... Ah.”
Well. That went... Poorly? The demon had done all that he came here for, but the cloaked woman had told him to stay... He probably should’ve spoken up before she left. Their next meeting would surely be awkward if he left now, but he also doesn’t know what she wants from him.
Glancing behind himself, the brunette sees the documents pinned to the wall again, along with pictures off their respective describee. Some were missing images, others were missing parts of their text, but most of them seemed to be of the survivors and members of Roblox HQ, along with a few outside individuals. There’s red string connecting a lot of the documents, like a detective’s board in a movie.
First, 007n7 takes note of his own. Mostly empty, only having a brief description (albeit an outdated one), but it’s connected with a red string to both Shedletsky’s and Noli’s files. Maybe Jane Doe just needed to ask some questions? They were in purgatory, so he didn’t really blame her for keeping tabs on everyone here, since there’s not much else to do.
Then his eye drifted to Builderman’s document, the paper catching his eye because of just how many strings were linked back to it. Almost as many as were linked to John Doe’s. There was also the fact that the brief first paragraph caught his attention: ‘Lazy. This is your fault.’
... A fitting description, 007n7 would say. Maybe a bit lacking in everything he’s done wrong, though. He could list dozens of issues the supposedly ‘perfect creator’ has, and how they’ve impacted Robloxia for the worse.
The C00lgui, in response to that thought, summons a screen next to the pinned file and begins generating a list that fills its surface with both biased and unbiased reasons for why Builderman is an unfit leader and an even more unfit god. ‘Hypocrisy, public informality, neglect, inability to compromise,’ and the list goes on. A second screen appears under the first, with a large red arrow pointing to the CEO, generating a line that reads: ‘L0Z3R!!’
The retired exploiter snickers, taking fond amusement in the AI’s humor, but notices the C00l-particles beginning to form around himself. A rogue screen blinks into existence off to the side, brought up by the system itself. Of course, without conscious limiting and control, the C00lgui would wake from its sub-dormant state and begin running independently.
007n7 raises a hand to dismiss the screens before they get out of control, but before he can, the retired exploiter hears something shift behind himself, before the sharp edge of an axe is pressed against his neck... Well, wasn’t this going just splendidly? The screens quickly blink out, and the mechanical voice in his subconscious says, ‘S0rry :('.
“I should’ve known not to leave you here,” the magenta-haired woman scowls, “that you’d take the first chance you got to mess things up.” Near-silent footsteps echo in the basement as she steps beside the other, grip unwavering on the hatchet. The C00lgui’s mechanical beeping, though quiet, probably covered her entry.
“I didn’t touch anything,” 007n7 immediately says once she stops talking, lifting his red-clawed hands in surrender. The last of the C00l-particles vanish as the AI retreats back into his mind. “... If you need to, you can check.” The brunette makes sure to maintain his composure, speaking evenly. Now that the pressure of their first interaction was gone—this was doomed no matter how he responded—the demon found it much easier to speak.
The widow keeps her gaze locked onto him, before pressing the weapon just the slightest bit further into his skin, before shifting her gaze to the document. Upon finding no alterations in the text or page, Jane Doe glances back to the man, before exhaling and letting the blade’s pressure lessen.
A long moment passes, the only movement being the flickering of lanternlight and the twitching of the demon’s tail, before the hatchet is slowly lowered. The investigator offers no apology. “Why are you here?” she asks instead.
“I came to tell you that there was food. You told me to wait, so I busied myself with reading.” Not a lie. But he’s also completely ignoring the C00lgui’s involvement. Fortunately, Jane Doe doesn’t comment on the screens.
She pauses for a moment to formulate her words. Then, “Why are you really here?” Her words are drenched in suspicion, obviously doubting the excuse. “You’re an exploiter. You disassociate yourself from the other survivors. You only help yourself during the games. You used to terrorize Robloxia, torment innocents. You don’t feel concern for those around you.”
“I’m a retired exploiter,” 007n7 corrects. “My past doesn’t dictate what I can and can’t feel now.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have ulterior motives.” There it was, the questioning. At least he’d anticipated it, even if the atmosphere was more hostile than what he’d expected.
“What’s your goal here?” Jane Doe inquires. “Are you trying to bribe me for something with manufactured friendship? Or are you so distant from the others because you’ve been socially exiled, and are trying to find an ally?”
“... If I were exiled, I wouldn’t have noticed you weren’t at dinner, since I wouldn’t be in the main cabin myself.” A C00l-particle blinks beside him, the interrogation sparking the C00lgui’s curiosity, causing it to show up again. The machinery was terribly nosy. Fortunately, all it decides to do is help with the questioning.
“Besides, if I hypothetically did need ‘allies’,” 007n7 continues, “even though all of the survivors are already a team, why would I think I’d be able to manipulate somebody from Roblox HQ? You’ve been alive centuries longer than I have.”
“Exploiters usually have the arrogance to forget that. It’s worth asking.”
“But as I’ve told you, I’m a retired exploiter.”
“Hm..,” she hums, pausing for a moment. Considering how to best phrase her words, while also simultaneously pondering a separate thought. The C00lgui’s facial analyzing software once again proves itself to be surprisingly useful in this hell, picking up on these details.
After she decided, though, the widow speaks once more. “You insist you’re retired, yet you still use your scripts. Is that not a little contradictory?”
In the corner of his vision, the C00lgui provides the pale Robloxian with a loophole to utilize. “Well, we aren’t in Robloxia anymore, so my scripts aren’t technically exploiting anything. They’re just normal commands, intentionally crafted by our captor to function the way they do.” It was true that they weren’t in Robloxia, since Builderman had no power here. But really, he just dislikes the titles of ‘exploiter’ or ‘hacker’.
A soft hum sounds. “But wouldn’t that go against your GUI’s intended purpose?” It’s clear that Jane Doe doesn’t truly care about purposes. She’s just trying to gauge if 007n7 still values his past role as an exploiter enough to be displeased by that fact.
The brunette’s tail flicks, debating how to respond. “It doesn’t mind,” he says, as if to shrug off the question with a joke. But, technically, the C00lgui didn’t mind. It just wants to help 007n7 whenever able. Void below, he loves being able to tell half-truths with a clear conscience.
Unfortunately, the magenta-haired woman does not seem amused, but that’s to be expected. “I would appreciate more serious answers. Are you forgetting that we could both benefit from this interaction?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on the fact that my answer was serious. It truly doesn’t care what my motives are, as long as it remains in use.”
“...” The widow takes a moment to think, beginning to piece together something that most of the other survivors still had no idea about. “... So you didn’t touch my documents... Tell me this, honestly. Have you lied to me at all?”
“I have not,” the demon confirms... Is he being too obvious? 007n7 feels like his hints are far from subtle. But then again, the black-clad survivor would probably appreciate the bluntness.
“But I can’t say I won’t. Everyone has a limit.” Honesty, but an escape from being seen too deeply. He just can’t let his answers provide each other with too much credibility. Manipulating uncertainty for his own benefit... If he actually manages to string anything together, that is...
“And how far is your limit?” Jane Doe asks, shifting her grip on the small axe idly. An attempt at pushing farther than he’d let.
“As far as I decide.”
“At least you’re not an open book. That would mean this questioning was useless...” The investigator pauses for a second. Then, “What do you know about Shedletsky?”
The question leaves him confused for a moment, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind it. He internally prays to the Void that she’s just asking about his connections, but if so, it wouldn’t be phrased so intentionally. “As much as anyone else here does, I suppose,” he lies for the first time.
“So this is your limit? Nothing of yourself, but when questioned about others, you act oblivious?”
007n7 curses internally, body tensing. He should’ve seen the bait, especially since it was placed so early on. An ambiguous answer would’ve been much better there, but it was far too late now. “And why do you assume I know anything?” the retired exploiter asks, a vain effort to deflect.
“Don’t try that. I choose not to participate in those gruesome games, but that doesn’t mean I don’t spectate. For a split second, every time you see an admin, your GUI screens will flare, and your body will show micro-reactions. Obviously, this is an instinctual fear, certainly created from your years as an exploiter. So, why would Shedletsky elicit that same reaction? Maybe it would be harder to notice in person, but you look at each other differently than others.”
“... And you said I wasn’t an open book,” 007n7 murmurs, not wanting to openly admit anything.
“Hm... Less of a book, more of a cyphered text. Just as easy, but only if you know what to look for. And you’ve given me almost every clue I need through this conversation alone to tell what you’re about.”
“If that’s so, then you shouldn’t need to ask me about anything else, and I should be free to go, right?”
“I said almost. You’re still useful to me... How could you tell Shedletsky’s previous identity?”
“... Would you believe me if I said ‘lucky guess’?” the demon shrugs.
Jane Doe stares at him for a moment, before responding, “No. I would appreciate a real response... Your abilities could prove useful to me. Again, this could benefit both of us if you work with me.”
“Well, now it sounds like you’re trying to ally yourself with me,” he jests without humor, before replying more seriously. “... The C00lgui has facial recognition. Both for analysis and identity tracking. He changed a lot, but not enough to be unrecognizable.”
“Hm...” the woman hums, shadowed gaze turning distant beneath her hat. She leans on the bottom of the axe handle, the metal head on the ground, contemplating.
After a long moment of silence, the widow straightens herself and speaks again. “Are there any other hidden abilities that your C00lgui still has access to?”
“During rounds, no, but there are unconventional ways for me to ‘jailbreak’ some commands while in the lobby. The GUI during rounds is a different model that’s almost impossible to use with the Spectre’s ‘modifications’...”
Jane Doe doesn’t mention how that would be considered exploiting. “I assume you won’t mention them unless the need arises?”
“You’d be correct.”
“And would you help with my research in any way you can, if it benefits you in some way?”
“In any way I’m willing.”
“Well, you seem willing enough to put my faith in. Don’t make me regret it.”
007n7 responds with a simple nod, tail flicking as he glances back to the documents. Specifically to Builderman’s. “I’d say we’re fairly acquainted by now, wouldn’t you?”
The man hears shifting from behind himself, before Jane Doe speaks again, tone mildly suspicious. “I would... Somewhat agree. We’re moderately acquainted.”
“Is that good enough for me to ask why you seem to dislike Builderman so much? Judging by the cover of your document on him, at least. Since you worked at Roblox HQ most of your life, he used to be your boss, but this seems to be deeper than just your employment.”
The silence that follows is expected, almost guaranteed. If the magenta-haired woman would question him, he had the right to return the favor.
Neither speaks up for a long moment, before the demon clarifies: “I’m not fond of him either, if that helps.”
“Would you like to start with your own reason, then?” the cloaked woman asks, almost... Stalling? No, she must be trying to gauge another reaction.
“I think I deserve an answer first, for everything I’ve already told you,” 007n7 says calmly, using his sentence to both apply pressure and assure that he’ll provide information afterwards.
A silence envelops the basement after that. The brunette waits; he’s learned patience since college. A useful skill to have in situations like this.
The C00lgui picks up the faintest groan of wooden creaking from overhead; strained boards suddenly relaxing, the sound muffled through inches of stone and dirt yet still detectible to the system. Had the Spectre started another round after dinner? That was... irregular. And he hadn’t been pulled into it either... Coincidental?
Ignoring it, the demon notices Jane Doe shift slightly to lean less on her weapon before she speaks up, her voice too flat to be natural. “His negligence resulted in the loss of many lives.”
“Hm..,” 007n7 hums, piecing together the indirect statement. “John Doe and yourself, I presume.” It’s obvious, 007n7 just needs confirmation. And it comes in the form of a short nod from the other.
“Among others. Now, you tell me your own reason.” Direct, to the point. Likely a side effect of him having just mentioned the widow’s late husband. Nevertheless, it’s much more efficient than dancing around subjects like before.
The brunette hums quietly again, nearly inaudible. The candlelight catches his eye, drawing it away from the survivor before him for a split second. He debates what to mention, and what to save for later—what would be equal or less, and which would be the better option—before settling on a reason.
“The same as you, I suppose.” It’s best to stay on the black-clad Robloxian’s good side and provide information of equal sentimentality. She’d figure it out soon enough, anyways. “His carelessness played a part in my son’s death.”
“You had a son?” Jane Doe asks, a small slip of the tongue. That much had been obvious, so a better question could’ve been asked. Did it come as that much of a surprise to her?
007n7 guesses it’s because of the current atmosphere, since he himself felt like speaking more than he should. ‘Compose yourself,’ he internally scolds. Neither person had messed up severely yet, but it’s best to prevent it in advance.
“Yes. He’d gone missing, yet when I anonymously sent reports to Robloxia HQ, there was no acknowledgement of it. Nothing was found of him after that... One could only assume it was ignored because they traced the report and saw my past as an exploiter, but the child wasn’t even involved with that.” He makes sure to be vague, yet provide enough details to simulate the situation.
“So, you had your son after you retired?” the magenta-haired survivor asks. Well, it seems he wasn’t vague enough. She’s uncovered a gateway. “That would only make sense, unless it was during your exploiting years themselves, but you referenced them as a past event.”
“... It was after I’d made my disappearance.”
“Hm... Would you mind if I wrote this down? For documentation purposes, of course. I assure you that nobody else will see these.” As she speaks, the cloaked woman steps towards her desk, knowing the answer already. If the man was willing to tell her all of this so easily, he hypothetically shouldn’t mind it being written.
“Of course not,” the demon agrees, turning to face her properly as she seats herself and quickly jots down some information on a blank sheet of paper from a pile. It takes her a long moment, going through nearly two sheets front-and-back before she’s satisfied. Idly, the pale-skinned Robloxian’s red tail flicks around the board behind himself as he waits for her, grazing the rough material of the board before retreating.
Then, suddenly, Jane Doe speaks up again, not looking up from the paper. “Just a few more questions, if you will. If you had a son after you’d stopped exploiting, is it possible you also had a wife?”
“No. He was adopted. I’ve never been married before.” 007n7 phrases it specifically to erase any questions of divorce or a biological child, simply to carry on with the interrogation without wasting time.
The widow writes a few more notes down, illegible from the distance (and without his glasses). She fills the sheet, and grabs another, writing something in the corner, before pausing to think again. “... Your reason for hating Roblox HQ stems from after you’d retired, but in old documentation of your past exploits, it seems you still held that same distaste for the admins and Builderman. Where did it originally come from?”
“I merely disagreed with the way things were run.” That’s basically the reason, if you didn’t question why an 18 year old college student would be so involved in both politics and terrorism.
“A fair point...” She pauses again to write something down. Then, she stills for a moment. “One more question. Tell me, how could you confirm your son’s death if he was only missing, and no remains were found?” Jane Doe asks, tilting her head up, lanternlight being briefly reflected in deep purple eyes that stare into his own.
And that question, specifically, made 007n7 pause. Not because of the suddenness, or the topic itself, but because of the answer he’d need to give.
The demon could talk about C00lkidd with no issue by now; it’s been months in this purgatory, after all. But what he still couldn’t bring himself to do is acknowledge the role his own son now played in this realm.
Fortunately, the investigator quickly picks up on this hesitation. “Perhaps it’s best I save that for later... Tell me instead, what was your son’s name?”
The retired exploiter releases an almost inaudible breath at the temporary escape. “... His name is C00lkidd. Unconventional maybe, but his.”
“Is it not yours?” she asks, gaining more than a document title from the answer—which she immediately jots down with a short glance at the paper before resuming their eye-contact with her shadowed gaze. “It seems oddly similar to your old exploiting alias, does it not?”
“It’s his now,” he says plainly. “Not like I use it anymore... Also, that’s two more questions after your supposed last.”
“Would you like to ask a couple to even the score, then?”
“Gladly.”
007n7 pauses for a good minute to think. As if he hadn’t done enough of that in the past... What, twenty minutes? Maybe more, but it definitely hasn’t been over thirty. But the time is the least of his concern in a timeless realm. Just simple questions, nothing too prying...
“Do you interrogate everyone like this, or is it just me?” the brunette finally settles on asking.
“Nobody else has the gall to enter my quarters and pry into my research uninvited.” It isn’t said with malice, but the woman’s words weren’t completely flat either. Unfortunately, the brunette wasn’t the best with determining tones. It hardly matters, though.
“Hm...” he hums thoughtfully, tail unconsciously twitching as he thinks of what to ask. Then, it hits him; painfully obvious, too. “How are you able to stay outside of rounds, but still have full consciousness, unlike the NPCs?”
“... A good question. Or, it would be, if I hadn’t already told Dusekkar all I knew. But since you asked, I’ll explain again... I’m still figuring out exactly how, but the Spectre is feeding me information. Before being taken here, I was in a sort of... Plane. I could see everything, but only in spots. I still had my notes and books, so I wrote down all I could...”
The C00lgui beeps, recognizing the information as important and noteworthy. Jane Doe continues, undisturbed by the near-inaudible sound. “And then, suddenly, right on the cusp of wandering too far—seeing things it didn’t want me to see—I was brought in... And in the process, my belongings were scattered throughout those spots, or ‘maps’, as the others call them. That’s why I haven’t properly re-organized my notes yet. Fortunately, I have someone willing to gather them for me, but it’s taken quite some time...”
The widow pauses for a second, trying to recall if there was any other background information for the man to know, before carrying on. “And, to finally answer your question, your Game Master seems to have given me a choice. Every night, in my ‘dreams’, I am presented with an offer. I could choose to remain as I am now, or I could join the others in those brutal death games... And once I say yes, I assume I can never go back...
“Our kidnapper is waiting for me to descend into madness, and accept to see my husband in person once more; for me to be tormented by the fact that I’d chosen this fate, to die by his hand again and again... But in doing so, it’s given me all the time in the world to figure out the cracks in its realm without being distracted by the games.”
The demon doesn’t respond immediately. First, he takes a minute to sort all the information in his mind; sentences turned into files by the C00lgui, which had been auto-typing what Jane Doe said. Once saved to his memory, 007n7 takes a long moment for the mechanical static in his mind to fade, and another to remember that she’d been speaking to him directly. He quickly responds with a hum of acknowledgement, before he stops again to think.
“... I’d inquire further, but we’ve already spent nearly half an hour doing nothing but. I’m guessing we’re both tired of this conversation, regardless of how useful it was,” he says, deciding to ask more about this subject later.
“Hm. Indeed. But this has been far too beneficial for the both of us, so whenever we’re both well-prepared, I say we pick up where we left off. Besides, it should be about time for the extra round to end, right?”
007n7 blinks. “You knew about the extra round?” the retired exploiter asks in return. He himself had only known because of the wood overhead settling, but had Jane Doe known the entire time?
“No.” Well, there’s his answer.
The black-clothed survivor tilts her head, "I merely saw your face when it happened... Like I said, when you know what to look for, you’re very decipherable... Plus, your gui brightened, so it was clear you’d sensed something. Think of it as an educated guess.”
“But I didn’t have my C00lgui out when that happened,” the man counters. Just when he thought he was finally free to go lie down. But it’s not like he could just walk out now.
“Don’t assume I don’t know. Your eye, 007, is fake. It moves normally; your code must have been well-made, yet it’s not identical. The glass is well-disguised, I’ll give you that much, but it’s still glass. For removeable convenience, I’d assume. But because of that, there’s a faint red dot in the center of your pupil, only visible when your system is alert or running a command.”
“... Maybe I am easy to read,” is all the pale-skinned man replies with. 007n7 can’t help but wonder what else Jane Doe’s found out about him from this interaction.
“Well, few others seem to have noticed. But that may just be because of their ignorance towards your presence.” The widow, satisfied with her findings, straightens the papers she just wrote, and sets them in a separate pile from the rest of the scattered pages on her desk for future use.
For the first time in the half-hour they’ve been speaking, the demon takes a step, heading towards the ladder out of the basement, battery both literally and figuratively drained from the questioning. “Well, if you need nothing more from me, I’ll be going back to my cabin.”
“Rest well, 007. I hope we’re able to speak again soon,” the investigator says, smooth voice falling into something softer as their ‘interrogation’ draws to a close. “And greet Taph on your way out. Such a sweetheart, she is.”
The retired exploiter hums and nods in acknowledgement, before quickly scaling the ladder. He doesn’t question the woman’s ability to tell when the rounds are ending, or her fondness of the demolitionist; he’s far too tired for that. Now that he didn’t have to worry about the value of words and what lies beneath them, the exhaustion was quickly taking hold.
Crimson-clawed hands push open the thick cellar doors, tail flicking behind him as the man crawls through. Mind weary, his more primal instincts make themselves known in his consciousness, but the C00lgui quickly remembers its job and suppresses them with ease. 007n7 didn’t need to be thinking about sinking his fangs into something (someone, more accurately) when all he really needed was some sleep.
But, just as the brunette rounds the corner to the front of the cabin, he suddenly bumps into a smaller figure, causing them to fall over, while the larger man himself barely catches his balance and manages to stay upright. Recovering from the split-second of shock, he quickly looks down to see none other than Taph, fallen over, clutching something to their chest.
“Ah- sorry,” the demon quickly apologizes, noticing him struggling to stand back up with the heavy cloak they always have on. Reaching out a hand—which the demolitionist only accepts after a few seconds of hesitance—007n7 carefully helps her up. They perk up with gratitude, unable to sign as their other hand returns to whatever they have clutched against the center of their torso.
With a hurried nod, once again trying to convey a ‘thank you’ without direct communication, Taph scrambles to the basement doors, before practically dropping the entire way, not bothering to use the ladder. The loud thunk is audible even from up there, and for a moment, the retired exploiter just stares in something between shock and neutrality. ‘I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point,’ he sighs internally.
Not wanting to invade whatever secret interaction they’re having down there, the brunette quickly walks away into the woods, towards his cabin. It’s not any of his business, anyways.
As he travels, 007n7 breathes in the clean air of the forest, tail twitching at the familiar scent. It was much better than the smoke in the basement, in his opinion. Candles were a good source of light down there, since they didn’t have flashlights, but inhaling that much CO2 couldn’t possibly be healthy...
... The demon had originally thought that he’d just be doing something good for another survivor in this hell, reminding Jane Doe to eat, and then got dragged into an interrogation full of mental mind games against someone who probably had twice his IQ. Thank the Void he had the C00lgui’s mental support.
As a gust of freezing wind blows past, the pale-skinned man habitually pulls his jacked tighter over his form, but the fabric does almost nothing against the cold air. Maybe he should’ve checked if Guest1337 was still in the main cabin; his sleeping quarters were much closer, and he has a spare bedroom that the demon often finds himself in when on-the-brink. But now he was too far into the woods, and Guest was likely in bed by now. Might as well just go the rest of the way...
Sighing, the brunette settles for a long walk, eyes lidded as he watches the ground for any holes or roots that could trip him. That is, until he realizes something. “... Wait, couldn’t I just-” 007n7 says aloud, before pausing where he stood.
With a flick of his wrist, the C00lgui appears in front of him, and he presses a couple of buttons. Taking a second to mentally measure, the demon approximates the coordinates, before typing them in. And exactly six seconds later, the retired exploiter teleports into his cabin bedroom, crafted by The Spectre to resemble his old home with slight distortions, as are all the cabins.
“Void, I just remembered how much I love doing that,” the man says to himself in sheer relief. The C00lgui sends him a ‘<3’ through their neural link, before leaving him be. With a soft, mildly amused exhale, 007n7 crawls into bed and just lays there, not bothering to remove his hat or shoes.
As the spider-noob hops down to scurry off to its hidden corner in the cabin, the demon can’t help but think back to his interaction with Jane Doe. It didn’t go the best, he’d say, but, well... At least she didn’t hate him?
What he’s happier about, though, is the fact that he’s finally found someone here who’s like-minded. And by that, he means someone else who doesn’t like Builderman...This is excluding Twotime, since he’s fairly confident that they’re trying to indoctrinate him...
Maybe he should bring it up in their next interaction tomorrow, after the rounds. Their shared disdain was a much more comfortable topic than motives and secrets.
It almost made him look forward to the next day.