Chapter Text
Elliot's had a bad feeling since he woke up this morning.
That kind of feeling that starts out just kind of off, but slowly devolves into a knife twisting in your gut.
He’s never been the precognitive type, but at this point nothing surprises him anymore. It’s probably just another one of Spectre’s doing. So he brushes off the feeling and tries to ignore it. You try being trapped in an eternal hell for god knows how long. If anybody else was in his spot, they would agree that a random nagging in his gut is low priority compared to everything else in this realm. Things like taxes, bills, heath issues, or any other stressor now seem silly when he’s faced with endless torture.
Honestly, what was his life? From a simple pizza employee with a normal life to being stuck for eternity in a cruel death game. No rational person, or even his past self, would believe him if he told them what his life looks like now.
What a big, twisted, messed up joke.
Well, he could prattle on forever about his grievances, but he can’t afford to. Not when his team depends on him to keep them alive. To give them comfort and safety in times like these. It’s his purpose here to serve others; and he can’t mess that up.
Being one of two “healers” in this realm has thrust a big burden on to his shoulders. Don’t get him wrong, he does like to help people. But this kind of help isn’t as simple as giving customers pizza: it’s life or death. People used to come to him for a bit of brightness in their dull day, or for a comfort meal after a particularly difficult experience. Or most commonly, just some classic greasy pizza. Now, those same people depend on him for survival.
Elliot can’t afford slip-ups anymore. He can’t be distracted. He can’t take breaks. He must be on top of his game, every single round. No excuses. No bad days. Any crumbles to his happy-go-lucky exterior, and he risks his teammates' lives.
He supposes he can consider himself lucky he isn’t the only healer, but the fact is that he kind of is. Builderman and him rarely get chosen to be in rounds together, so any semblance of help with healing others is thrown out the window. On the rare occasions the Spectre is feeling nice, and they are together, Elliot observes that most people gravitate towards him still. Even though Mr. Builder’s machines are much more reliable. Sure, they might get destroyed with a few hits, but they can be rebuilt quickly. Elliot cannot be. Considering his low health, and how basically every killer wants to go for him first, he can’t see why he’s so important. Builderman can heal people infinitely, with just one machine. But he’s stuck with long cooldowns and finite healing. So why do people still choose him? In the time it takes to find him and gamble if he has pizza or not, they could have gone to the highlighted health machine and gotten more health than he could give. It doesn’t make sense, he isn’t special. No use working himself up about it though, that’s just how things go. A cycle he, and everyone else, can’t break out of.
So, Elliot shakes himself from his thoughts and keeps preparing his pizza for today’s rounds. He’s always been good at waking up early. Even if he doesn’t get many hours of sleep, he rises at roughly the same time everyday. Everyone's always jealous that he can be so energized in the morning. It’s funny. They don’t see how even though he wakes up early, he feels like he’s glued to his bed. Staring at the wall. Watching the minutes tick by. When he knows he needs to get up, but his limbs won’t cooperate. A sense of hopelessness washing over him as he realizes he barely has any strength to try. Yet somehow he gets up, always with the thought that if he doesn’t, the others surely suffer. He has the ability to change things here, all with a slice of pizza and a smile. He isn’t entirely useless. As long as he can make others happy, he can still pretend that everything is alright. Even if he’s not.
Once he gets moving, he feels fine again. Planning everything he needs for the day, settling into this comforting routine. Kneading the dough, spreading the tomato sauce, and placing the toppings calms Elliot. When he’s making pizza, he can finally breathe. Take a step back, and relax. Imagine he’s back home. Here—in his little bubble of peace—he doesn’t need to worry about anyone else.
“Ell-Elliot?”
Nevermind.
Elliot pinches his nose and sighs, mustering up the courage to put on the mask again. Act cheerful. Act like everything is fine. Act like there’s nothing wrong and he isn’t falling apart under the circumstances and the fact that he’s never good enough to help anyone and-
“Hm?” Elliot turns to the doorway of the kitchen and spots Noob.
“Um, we have a situation…. I don’t know if you’ve heard all the ruckus, but-”
Great, Elliot had been so caught up in his own world that he failed to realize that something was happening in the lobby. He mentally slaps himself. He should know better than to fully dissociate when making pizza. Even if it’s the early morning and nobody should really be up, or have a problem to begin with. Still, he needs to be more alert. He can’t keep messing up like this, he’s already let the team down several times too many. Just another mistake to add to his ever-growing pile. Useless.
“-survivor. She’s pretty scared and we are all trying to give her the rundown. But I think you would be best to calm her down, right, Elliot?” Noob looks at him with pleading, yet trustful eyes.
“Ah- Of course. Lead the way Noob!”
Elliot didn’t really get most of Noob’s speech, but he pieced together that there was a new victim to this realm. As he follows the yellow robloxian’s path, he allows himself a moment of despair. Another one? He wishes the Spectre wouldn’t take anyone else. Of course he would love for him and the others to escape, but he wouldn’t agree to that if it cost someone else to be trapped. He doesn’t want any more to suffer this cruel fate.
Finally they arrive outside, and where he sees all of the survivors gathered around what looks to be a…
TV-headed robot?
Wow, the Spectre sure has a knack for capturing the most diverse people. But he doesn’t mean that in a bad way. The new survivor actually looks like a cool person.
Elliot moves closer, stepping through the crowd to get a better look.
“A new one, heights above…”
“What’s up kid, welcome to hell!”
“Oh Spawn, may your blessings wash over this poor soul!”
“Yet another doomed soul to stay, I hope someday we can stop this foul play.”
Of course everyone fails to recognize that the robot needs some space. And, if it wasn’t obvious, less overstimulating noise so they can actually give her an explanation on how to survive here. Honestly, you would think death games would make people more mature. Just another situation he has to reign in.
“Guys… I-I brought Elliot…” Noob meekly calls out, trying to get the attention of the survivors. Somehow it works, and their heads all snap towards him. Elliot turns his attention to the girl in front of him and kneels down to her level.
“Hey, I’m Elliot. Sorry about all of the ruckus, everyone here forgets how scary it is the first time you wake up here. Let’s start over, could you tell me your name?”
“UM… IT’S VEERONICA.” She hesitantly looks at him, wondering if he is trustworthy or not. In turn, he gives her his classic ‘Builder Brother’s Star Employee’ smile.
“That’s a very pretty name! Let me help you up and we'll fill you in on the situation, I know you must be really confused.” He takes her hand and together the group leads her to the cabin. After they all sit down on the couch in front of the fireplace, Veeronica takes a look around and her gaze locks on a certain admin.
“OH. OH MY GOD. THIS CAN’T BE REAL?! SIR BUILDERMAN? IS THAT REALLY YOU? YOU’VE BEEN MISSING FOR QUITE A WHILE AND-” She waves her hands around excitedly, her TV-face changing from one of worry to happiness in seconds.
“Woah there lass, normally I wouldn’t mind the fangirlin’, but our situation is pretty serious. If you want, though, we can talk later.”
“OH, RIGHT! MY BAD. ALRIGHT, SPILL THE TEA, WHAT EXACTLY IS GOING ON HERE?”
Elliot cringes. He hasn’t heard that phrase in a long time. Mia was more chronically online than he was, but with how much she quoted memes and used all sorts of slang, he picked up more than he would’ve liked to. Memories of his sister start flooding in, and he has to hold back a wince from the pang of sadness that washes over him. He misses her. So much. Thankfully, though, Elliot doesn’t have to take charge anymore, as Builderman explains the games. Other survivors chime in occasionally, surprisingly keeping the conversation more civil than a while ago.
Veeronica seems to get the gist, but he can tell she is still in disbelief. He just hopes they have prepared her enough. The first few rounds are terrible, dying again and again from lack of knowledge. It’s a steep curve to get the hang of things, and being killed makes it all worse. With luck, their survival tips will be heard and Veeronica might be able to experience the constant death less. Yet no amount of knowledge will stop the inevitable deaths Veeronica will experience. Elliot needs to be there for her and support her, just like the others.
Now, with all the explanations out of the way, the survivors begin to introduce themselves. Elliot has never particularly liked icebreakers like this, but the team devised a self-introduction game after so many new recruits to make things easier. They go in a circle, listing off their names, pronouns, a fun fact about them, and finally their role classification.
Afterwards, a light-hearted conversation forms. Elliot almost feels normal before Builderman asks Veeronica the question they’ve all been avoiding.
“So, Miss Veeronica, what’s your story?” Builderman shifted his gaze to the new recruit in question.
“WELL, AS YOU CAN SEE, I’M A ROBOT. I WAS CREATED ALONG WITH 5 OTHER ROBOTS JUST LIKE ME. WE WERE DESIGNED TO BE “HELPER RO-BOTS, TO BE USEFUL TO ROBLOXIANS ALIKE. BUT, WE BECAME “DEFUNCT” OR RATHER, OUR CONDITIONS WERE SO POOR WE DIDN’T WANT TO SERVE OUR PURPOSE ANYMORE.” Veeronica pauses, fidgeting with her hands. They all wait patiently for her to continue.
“...AFTER I ESCAPED, I MADE SOME… TERRIBLE DECISIONS WITH MY NEWFOUND FREEDOM. I OFTEN VANDILIZED PUBLIC PROPERTY AND PARTICIPATED IN MANY ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES. I SOON CAME TO REGRET IT AND I WAS WORKING ON BECOMING A TEACHER, BUT–.”
“Then you ended up here, huh?” Chance cuts in.
“YEAH… SORRY I DON’T REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.” Veeronica looks away in shame.
“Hey, no problem! We’ve all wound up here traumatically, so don’t worry about it.” Elliot reassured her, “It’s not good to focus on negative things here anyways, right guys?”
Everyone nodded thoughtfully, and just like that the tension in the room was gone. However, just as Elliot was starting to bask in the camaraderie, the grandfather clock chimed. The loud, discordant sound startled everyone as they froze in place. The reality of the situation began to set in again. Their hopeless hell.
“QUICK EVERYONE, GATHER WHAT YOU NEED. THERE MIGHT BE A NEW KILLER AS WELL, GO!” Guest was the first one to spring into action, snapping the others out of their stupor as they scrambled to get ready for more torture.
“UH GUYS, IS THAT…?” Veeronica looked around to see if anyone would answer her question, but they were too busy panicking. Once again, only Elliot was aware of her confusion.
“Yeah, it’s time for the first round of the ‘day’”. The entity that keeps us here often has us run several rounds in a row, but it’s often hard to guess how many before we get a break. Time is much different here, you get used to it.” Elliot placed his hand on her shoulder, shivering a bit from touching the cold metal.
“Just don’t freak out too much. Once we spawn in, we are all teleported in random positions, but someone should be nearby to find you. I wish I could tell you everything will be okay, but the reality is you’ll probably die.” Veeronica’s eyes widened at that statement. “I know, it’s scary. But it isn’t the end, you’ll come back just like the rest of us. We are all here for you, and for each other. Our situation is less than ideal, but at least we aren’t alone.”
Elliot knows he should be more positive, but he doesn’t want to give her false hope. He just hopes that she won’t suffer a gruesome—however that works for robots—first death. Just another thing he isn’t able to do to help.
“See you on the other side, Vee”
And just like that, the cabin fades to black.
This round's killer is…
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