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“Hm… fallen god? No, I’ve done him already…” A flick of his wrist. “Pink Widow? Booooooring.” A swipe of his fingers. “Spoiled rich kid... could be something if he actually cared about anything.”
Noli sighs, arms behind his back, floating several feet above the “ground” in a limitless black void. His glowing eye narrows into a thin white line as he swipes through flat holograms of the survivors. Two Time. “Juliet wannabe.” Elliot. “So boring I can’t even sum him up.” Guest 1337. Noli perks up. His face is split by a wide, white half circle of a smile. “Why, hello soldier boy… you’ll do just fine.”
Map: Tempest
Killer: Noli
Guest 1337 sprints across the bridge, gritting his teeth and holding his bleeding shoulder as he runs past the bubbling poison river. He risks a glance behind him, finding no sign of the killer, before rushing up the stairs and into the long-abandoned tower.
There, he takes cover behind an extinguished fire pit and pulls out a medkit— once a pristine white, now stained with his blood—, using the bandages inside to wrap his wounded shoulder. The fabric turns a dull red but holds.
Guest tightens the bandage further, then allows himself to exhale in relief before getting to his feet. The killer has switched targets by now, and he isn’t going to let a wounded shoulder stop him from-
Noli peeks his head around the corner.
Guest swears loudly and swiftly whirls towards the tower’s second exit, already preparing himself for yet another chase.
“Say, Guest, how’s the wife?” Noli asks, walking closer to him with an easy gait, pitch-black face contrasted by a wide, white grin.
1337 freezes mid-sprint, all logic being overridden by the mention of Daisy. He sharply turns back to Noli, face already set in the first stages of rage. “What?” Guest asks hollowly.
“I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for her,” Noli’s smile somehow grows even larger as he steps within arms reach. “A daughter to take care of, husband always off playing war hero, being in constant danger because of said husband…”
“How do you-“
“She always said it was fine.” Noli leans in, his face now inches from Guest’s. His white, circular eyes grow wide. “But you knew it wasn’t. You saw it in her eyes every time you left home to play hero. I can only imagine how it was for your dau-“
Guest steps close, squares himself, and swings at the unmasked half of Noli’s face within a single second, connecting with his jaw and sending the killer stumbling—stumbling? —into the wall. “You don’t talk about my wife,” 1337 says, jaw set in a hateful snarl. “And you sure as well don’t talk about my daughter!”
Noli leans one hand against the wall, face hidden behind the other, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Guest stares, fists still raised, a mix of rage and confusion going through him. He should run away now, before-
Noli suddenly turns his face back towards Guest, his now manic grin splitting his face in two, eyes the size of apples. “But hey,” he giggles, somehow reminiscent of a naughty child, “at least Matt was always there for her!”
The snarl melts off Guest’s face, replaced by a blank stare. His eyes become cold and hard as he walks towards Noli. The killer opens his mouth to speak, only to be knocked flat on his back by a haymaker. Noli cackles madly as 1337 straddles him and grabs him by the collar.
“He always liked her when you were kids, didn’t he?” Noli’s head snaps to the side and back as Guest punches him. He laughs at the blow. “All those times you left her alone with him…” thwack “All those the cold, lonely nights…” thwack “‘Take care of her for me.’ I’m sure he took care of her ALLLLLL NIGHT LONG!”
“SHUT UP!” Guest screams suddenly, his fists raining down on Noli like bowling balls, knuckles becoming more bruised and bloodier (blood? Noli doesn’t bleed) with each hit, his shoulder screaming in protest but unheard through the haze of rage. He is dimly aware of approaching footsteps, of familiar voices shouting muffled words, but all he cares about is the cackling madman and his infuriating smile.
BANG!
The all too familiar sound of a gunshot cracks through the air, loud enough to make Guest wince and finally look up, still holding Noli by the collar. Chance stands by the entrance to the tower and points his flintlock into the air with one hand, smoke billowing from the barrel. His sunglasses are off—but Chance never takes his shades off—, revealing grey, disturbed eyes. The other survivors stand behind him in a group, their faces set in similar expressions: Shedlesky with his sword drawn, Two Time holding their dagger with shaky hands, Jane Doe with one hand hovering over her axe.
Chance takes his flintlock in both hands and points at Guest, who recoils in surprise. “Guest,” Chance says shakily, trying for an easy smile. He fails. “13. Let the kid go. Be easy, man.”
“Put him down, Guest.” Shedlesky says, stepping past Chance with Illumina held in front of him.
“Kid?” Guest asks, looking at the others as if they’ve grown third heads. “Don’t you see? This is-“he glances down at Noli. His prone body begins to violently glitch and vibrate, masking him in a cloud of purple and black pixels. Guest releases him and scrambles backwards, watching as the glitches fade… and reveal the groaning, broken form of Elliot.
Blood stains cover Elliot’s body from the chest up, the crimson mixing with the bright red of his uniform shirt. His hat sits askew in the corner of the tower, revealing mussed blonde hair. His face—Christ, Guest has to force himself to look at his face—is a mess of purple bruises and broken bones. Blood steadily drips from his newly crooked nose. His eyes have nearly swelled shut, tears streaming down his cheeks, but 1337 is still able to see the hurt and betrayal inside them.
“No,” Guest whispers, watching as Elliot scrambles to his feet, rejoining the survivors and hiding himself behind them. “That can’t…”
“I-“ Elliot starts, then winces and puts a hand over his split lip. “I just wanted to give you a pizza.”