Chapter Text
It was Dusekkar’s turn on breakfast duty.
Well, it was supposed to be 007n7’s turn, but he was gone and no one was going to make C00lkidd feed eleven people in his place. Dusekkar was up next on the chore chart, so the duty fell to them to make something edible.
He sifted through the cupboards, silently watched by 1x1x1x1. She had awoken when the cabin’s door creaked open, grumbling that it was too damn early before he realized that it was Dusekkar. Then, they had clammed up. He had said good morning anyway, and after getting a hesitant hello back, proceeded to the kitchen.
Pancakes, maybe? No, they didn’t have enough milk and the Specter hadn’t restocked it yet. The Survivors were dependent on it for food, and on the occasions where it refused to feed them the Sentinels would wander off into the woods and come back with a dead animal or two that Shedletsky would butcher and Guest 1337 would cook. Surprisingly, Two Time started a garden for herbs and small vegetables. Everyone chipped in on helping it flourish, finding comfort in rooting out weeds or checking to see if they got enough water. More than once the Sentinels couldn’t find anything even after enlisting the other Survivor’s help; Elliot managed to make watery stews that barely fed them, and everyone went to bed hungry. The Specter seemed to enjoy pulling the rug out from under the Survivors once they thought they had everything figured out, and this was just the latest in a long line of ways to torture them.
There were still a couple of fruits sitting in a bowl, as well as two boxes of oatmeal mix hidden beside bags. Very well. Oatmeal it was. “1x, come hither. I request your aid in preparing a meal for all of us.”
“I don’t know how to cook.” 1x was far from the proud Killer she had once been, slowly rising from the couch where he once sat. The change had put the Survivors on edge, who still treated them like a bomb on the verge of blowing up, with the only outlier being Shedletsky. The general consensus was that if she didn’t attempt to murder him on sight, he was safe enough to let roam. Besides, no one had the energy to guard them.
“You didn’t need to, hm?” Dusekkar asked, pouring a half a cup of milk into a saucepan. “That isn’t an insult. I did not need to eat for survival either until I was trapped here.”
“You didn’t?” 1x seemed bolder now, walking across the floor and into the kitchen.
“I could eat if I wished, but I did not need it. I must admit, there is a novelty to being mortal. I would never have spoken to people like the other Survivors had I not been here.” Dusekkar almost smiled before he remembered what was happening to those same Survivors. “I could do without the deaths, however.”
“Yeah…” 1x awkwardly shuffled beside them, staring into the saucepan as Dusekkar poured half a cup of water into it. “Shedletsky said that too.”
“Shedletsky is a strange case. Telamon was always more aloof about his godhood than us, although I’m sure you know that better than anyone. That is his greatest regret.” It’s hard to believe that they were once the same person at all, the lax swordsman who ate fried chicken and the god of combat so far apart similarities would only appear if you knew him for a long time. “Would you mind getting out another saucepan? We have many hungry mouths to feed.”
“Right.” 1x opened the cupboard he pointed at and pulled out another. “We didn’t get anything half as nice as these in the Killer cabin. Then again, almost all of us didn’t need to eat.”
“We won this equipment through painful endurance. The Specter rewards us whenever we preform well in multiple, consecutive rounds, and vice versa. When we all died five rounds in a row, it took away our running water. We were so desperate we drank from the water in Beachhouse Paradise’s fountain. The wretched taste of chlorine remained in our mouths for days after.” Dusekkar ruminated on past punishments. A brutal storm that caused heavy branches to fall and break the roofs of the cabins. A drought that dried up the garden and gave four people heatstroke. Smaller, pettier things like taking beloved keepsakes from home such as Guest 1337’s and Elliot’s photos of their families, or even outright disabilities like the time it took Chance’s coin and Veeronica’s skateboard for five rounds each. “You would think if it wanted us to survive, it wouldn’t actively hinder us.”
“How are you so okay with this?” 1x blurted, looking a bit more like they used to. “I killed you! I killed all of you, and I was laughing and mocking you the entire time, and now you’re just… teaching me how to make oatmeal like it never happened. C00lkidd I can understand, but me? Why haven’t you exiled me to the woods, or tied me up again, or… or something, I don’t know, just stop looking at me like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like…” 1x seemed to run out of steam there, blinking frustratedly. The reality of the situation seemed to hit her all at once, as he looked down at their hands. “I don’t know.”
“To tell you the truth, 1x I have very conflicting emotions on this entire subject. I cannot allow that to cloud my actions, however. You are a Survivor now, and I will aid you to the best of my ability because that is what Survivors do for each other. If you are not fed you will do poorly, and that will help no one.” Dusekkar stirred the oats. He had made their peace with being reduced to this meeker, less powerful form as best as he could. “You are a Sentinel. You are an incredibly important part of our team, and you need to be aware of that.”
Dusekkar shut the stove’s flame off and turned to fully face 1x. “We need you to stay alive, because every second left on the clock is another chance for the Specter to take one of us and desecrate who we once were. I do not care if you still hate us, but know this, 1x1x1x1. If I lose someone I care about because of you, anything the Killers could do to you will look tame in comparison. The sealing of my powers and your inability to die would not save you. Do you understand me?”
1x snorted, a sharp smile beginning to curve around her mouth. “Damn. Didn’t know you had it in you. I figured if any of the Survivors were going to give me a speech like that it would be the soldier or Shedletsky.”
“Do you-“
“I understand perfectly.” Something that looked dangerously close to respect was glimmering in his red eye. “You Supports always had a lot of pent-up rage. I could feel it pouring off of you in the rounds. It isn’t fair that I always die first, why did the Specter give me this job, that sort of thing. Your hate gives you strength too, doesn’t it?“
“If you run only on wrath, you will burn yourself out swiftly. Trust me, I have experienced it many times over.” Dusekkar reflected over many rounds. The awful helplessness that came with either being singled out immediately or being forced to fail your teammates over and over hand rankled him ever since they first landed here. “You might think that time dulls all wounds, but some part of you will never m get used to this life. You will always remember a better time before, and you will always regret not living that life to its fullest.”
1x didn’t have anything to say after that. Neither did Dusekkar. How he longed for the days when the worst of their problems were fixing coding errors or looking over complaints from Robloxians. To speak with Clockwork or Stickmasterluke about inconsequential matters like the weather instead of their strategy to avoid getting murdered for the day. To have his powers back; real magic, not whatever pathetic beams of plasma they could shoot that would be a mild inconvenience at best or that sorry excuse for a shield that would break after a couple seconds.
From outside the cabin, there was the sound of shouting. Dusekkar and 1x quickly went over to one of the windows, only to see a hysterical and mostly-uncorrupted John Doe desperatly grabbing for purchase in Builderman's jacket. Scattered around him were papers, marked with illegible scribbles. While one of his arms and legs was still corrupted, it was far less than what it had once been. "Jane, my Jane, please Builderman, you know- you must know, you made us- her eyes, I don't remember her eyes..."
He sank to the ground limply, defeat apparent. Builderman bent down to his level, grabbing John by the shoulders and speaking to him calmly and firmly. Dusekkar couldn't make out the words, but he noticed the other Survivors scattered around the outskirts of the beach. Builderman nodded to them and gestured to the main cabin, going back to speaking to John. The rest of the Survivors filed in, greeting Dusekkar with a small wave or nod of the head as they entered the kitchen and got their breakfast. Noob sat down on the couch, joining a confused 1x. C00lkidd clung tightly onto Chance's hand, who poured a bowl for him. No conversation rose above the scraping of spoons against bowls, but everyone knew what the others were thinking about.
007n7 had always been the black sheep of the Survivors, followed up by Two Time, although they had the benefit of being a Sentinel and completely unknown prior to landing in the realm of the Forsaken. Even if you had never seen him personally, word of his acts were common all across Robloxia, not helped by what appeared to be a sudden disappearance. An exploiter who took delight in tearing the world apart turned into a mild-mannered father felt like a bad joke, and yet there he was. Worse yet, one of the people he had tormented most was trapped in the realm of the Forsaken with him. It was easy to side with Elliot, who was their best healer and an innocent worker who somehow got wrapped up in this whole mess, no matter how sorry 007n7 was about the whole thing. You couldn't get rid of years of hurt with a simple apology, and he knew it. It was why he would always make himself scarce in between rounds, usually by his cabin or in the woods.
The Survivors began to notice small things, however. Stacks of firewood left near the door when they were running low, despite the fact that everyone was too exhausted to go chop down a tree. Plates washed and dried, stacked precisely in the drawer even though the sink was full when they went to bed one night. A clone, sometimes 007n7 himself, running directly into the Killer’s strongest move, terrified out of his mind but still going anyway. Walls began to drop. Spite thawed. Hands were extended. It was around the end of the first year when the realization that they might never get out of here truly began to sink in. Before, that fear had been confined to their own minds or whispered conversations in private. They gathered on the beach and watched fireworks, no doubt a sick taunt by the Specter, whizz into the sky. Something broke in them, and Dusekkar could never quite give a name to what it was. Whatever the case was, it pushed the Survivors far closer than they were before.
Dusekkar stared at the two steaming bowls left for Builderman and John Doe. They were falling like dominoes, and there was no telling of when they would stop.
+++
Passive: Unstoppable
“I have to believe John’s still in there somewhere. He can’t be gone so easily.” -Jane Doe
Negative status effects will have their duration halved thanks to the Corruption fighting them off.
M1: Corrupt Energy
Cooldown: 35s
“We are working as fast as we can to clean up all corrupted code. Please be careful in the meantime, and avoid all blocked-off areas.” -Official statement published by Roblox H.Q.
John Doe rakes his corrupted arm upwards, summoning four spikes to push the Killer away. If a Killer is hit by them, he gains Speed 1 for 7 seconds as well as giving the Killer Corrupted 1 for 10 seconds. Survivors and Killers cannot pass through spikes.
M2: Digital Footprint
Cooldown: 25s
“Where is John Doe? What really happened on March 17th? And will he return?” -Unknown News Outlet
John Doe stomps his foot three times, summoning a large puddle of corrupted code beneath him, highlighted only to him. If a Killer walks over it, they’ll give him Speed 1 for 10 seconds as well as reveal their aura to him. The Killer will be inflicted with Corrupted 1 for 5 seconds. Only three Digital Footprints can exist at a time, with the oldest one being destroyed when a new one gets placed. They will despawn after 75 seconds.
+++
Jane.
How could he have ever forgotten her? How could someone so important to him slip out of his mind just like that? John Doe’s pen had flew furiously across the paper, barely legible even as he continued. He had wanted to get everything he possibly could down before he went comatose. Who knew if he would ever get this chance again?
Her hair, shining in the sun as she threw her head back and laughed. Her voice, warm and kind as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Her eyes…
John had froze, pen tearing through the paper. What color were her eyes? Brown? Blue? Something else entirely? He didn’t remember her eyes. What else been lost to the Corruption? As if to remind him that he still wasn’t free, his clawed hand pulsed.
He had leaned back with a shuddering sigh. Admins, he had never realized how incredible the ability to take a deep breath without feeling pain was. And he could lie down without his exposed spine hurting him! He didn’t have an exposed spine at all! John was aware that he was probably doomed to a terrible fate of getting killed again and again, but it was the most alive he had felt in years. He could speak without coughing up a thick, black phlegm. He could move without feeling his muscles ache. He could think- truly think, not just whatever little bits of consciousness he could snatch back whenever the Corruption weakened temporarily.
When he had first woken up on the beach, he chalked it up to a dream, regurgitated bits of his memories spiraling endlessly in his mind as they often did when asleep. Hazy visions of his time before, clouded and blurred to the point of illegibility. That never stopped John from desperately searching for anything recognizable. Then he wondered if he was in a round, but he wouldn’t be so coherent if he was. It was only when he looked down and saw that he had one of his arms back did John fully realized what happened to him.
For a couple moments he just marveled in the feeling of having it again, slowly flexing his hands as if to test that they were real. He was dressed in his office clothes, just like he used to before he came here. A pair of glasses was perched on his nose- he could smell! The salty tang of the sea and something warm coming from a large cabin up ahead. The world was no longer as blurry as it once was, sheer detail grabbing his attention everywhere. Leaves, now noticeable as different, individual shapes instead of a mess of green. The creases and folds of his shirt, shifting whenever he moved. The individual grains of sand clinging to his hands. John felt like he was re-experiencing life for the first time all over again.
It was then he had remembered his shirt pocket, pens sticking out from them. Tucked into it were folded slips of blank paper. Desperately, he began to write, as if he could possibly summon Jane from his memories. No, anything but bring her to this miserable place. John would rather never see her again than condemn her to suffering like this. His mind turned over information again and again. The address of their house, the last job he had, his early years; all of it gone, frustrating blanks as he tried to cram everything he did know -her favorite food, the way she sighed when she was amused instead of tired, the place they had their first date at- onto these papers. It was only when he looked up, desperately searching for another paper so he could continue his task did he see Builderman at the edge of the beach.
John didn’t know if half of what he said to Builderman was even words, but something must’ve gotten through given how he grabbed John by the shoulders and said quite firmly, “Jane is alright. She’s outside of the realm of the Forsaken.”
He had asked it again and again, seeking confirmation; was she safe, was she away from here, was she alive, did he hurt her, what else was he forgetting? Builderman tried to answer John’s questions to the best of his ability before the entire world went dark and off-kilter, unceremoniously dumping John and the other Survivors off in the Make A Cake Factory.
With a quivering exhale, John took off his glasses, wiped the tears off of his face, and put them back on just in time to see the smattering of Survivors near him. It felt strange. He had been hunting them down for years, but it was the first time they were anything but vague blobs of color. The Make A Cake Factory was also tinged with that déjà vu as John was ushered behind the big truck by the robot, 1x1x1x1, and the pizza boy. “Hello.”
“That you in there, John?” 1x asked, reaching up to tear at her eye.
“More me than I’ve been in years.” He smiled, waving to the other two who exchanged a look.
“AR3 YOU A SURVIV4LIST TO0?” The robot asked. Her voice reminded him of Noli, just less harsh.
“What else would he be?” The pizza boy had cracked open a generator, beginning to wind the colorful wires together.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what that is.” John mumbled. Oh dear.
“IT’S 0KAY. WE’LL H3LP YOU LEARN.” The robot -Veeronica?- beckoned him over, showing him another tangle of wires. “Y0U JUST MATCH TH3 CORRECT COL0RS TOGETHER AND TH3 GENERATOR GOES ONLINE!”
John’s clawed hand wasn’t strong enough to pierce through the wires like it had effortlessly dug into flesh before. He was well aware of how the other Survivors watched it, as if at any moment the generator would burst into a pile of pulsing binary code. It didn’t, and with a bit more effort he had managed to make it work.
“He’s headed this way.” 1x reported, and promptly hurled their sword through the wall. “Still has the stupid hat- what?”
“WHAT’S G0ING ON?”
“What do you mean, what?”
“He just- oh. His whole thing was clones. That must’ve been one of them.” John peeked his head over to see where 1x and everyone else was looking. Sprawled out near a box was a body fizzling with code, breaking apart and fading away as 1x’s glitches snuffed it out of existence. Indeed, the hat was still there, but now sharp horns poked out from the clone’s head, and a demon’s tail laid limp just like the rest of the body. The outfit was different too, something black and red with spikes that John felt like he might’ve seen once or twice plastered on news screens as he and Jane settled on the couch after a long day.
“If his clone’s here, then where is he?” Delivery boy -Elliot! They always called for him whenever John dealt major damage- said as Shedletsky and Guest 1337 inspected it.
“I was hoping you’d ask that!” A voice gleefully said, right by John’s ear. Instinctively, he slashed his arm forwards. Dark spikes roiling with Corruption burst from the ground, sending 007n7 flying backwards. A familiar surge of speed raced through John’s veins, hairs standing on edge as 007n7 just chucked. Hiding his face was a screen akin to that of his c00lgui, a black box with a red smile in the center. A blow like that normally would’ve had a Survivor running for their life, Corruption gnawing at their body just like it did to John’s. 007n7 barely seemed bothered. “John Doe, 1x1x1x1… We got some big names here today, huh?”
Veeronica’s antennae drooped sadly. “007n7…”
“Don’t think I’ll leave you two out of the fun! Especially you, Elliot. Builder Brothers must’ve scraped up enough cash to rebuild by now. I’ll just have to stop by and wreck it again!” 007n7 laughed. From what John could gather in his rare moments of lucidity, he had been quite the timid man when he was still a Survivor. If the Specter could get rid of his Corruption, it could definitely reawaken an old love for destruction.
“I forgot how obnoxious you used to be,” Elliot mumbled, looking like he wanted to roll his eyes but too afraid to do so.
Despite the screen, 007n7’s confusion was apparent in his next words. “Used to? I never left!”
And with that, the talking was over. 007n7 ran forwards, claws outstretched as 1x’s blade swung to meet him. It shattered his screen, revealing the man’s face underneath. “Go!”
“Feeling like a hero?” 007n7 taunted, screen reforming as his claws slashed across 1x’s back.
John ran, passing the other Sentinels, who had gone to join the battle. Elliot ducked behind a wall, tossing a slice of pizza to the ground before hurrying to a generator near the road. John passed through the door connecting the outside in the factory, an old urge rising up within him. Before he could stop to think about what he was doing, he had stomped firmly on the ground three times, sending the Corrupted code spilling out and into the ground.
John turned the corner just in time for a clone to strike him hard, bursting into flames shortly after. He screamed; the pain was unbearable, his Corrupted arm and leg constricting as the flames died down shockingly quick, smothered by a sudden flood of binary code all across his body. The sluggishness that had seized his body was gone too, arm and leg pulsing once more. John stared down at his hand as the 1s and 0s faded away. The Corruption had “protected” him back when he was a Killer. Was it doing the same now?
John wasn’t going to question it if it kept him alive. If his traps could be repurposed to help the team, even better. With renewed vigor, he set out to find a generator.
+++
Passive: Dex
“I don’t know what commands he’s using, but it’s like he always knows just when to slip away.” -Member of Robloxian Moderation Staff
007n7 is always aware of the furthest spawn from him, and if a Survivor enters within 10 studs of it, they are highlighted for 12 seconds.
M1: Swipe
Cooldown: 3s
“Suspect appears to be using various modifications in order to conceal their true identity.” -Wanted poster created by Robloxia H.Q.
007n7 scratches forwards with his claws, dealing 23 damage on hit.
M2: Clone
Cooldown: 35s
“YOUTUBE THIS IS NOT FUN”- Victim
007n7 creates two clones of himself, highlighted with a white aura. Upon creation, he will be given Invisibility 5 for 25s. Invisibility 5 goes away when he attacks someone. Clone behavior can be changed through using the Inject ability, but as a default they will run to the furthest spawn from him.
If a clone enters within 50 studs of a Survivor, it will begin to follow them. Upon contact, a clone will deal 20 damage, inflict Burning 1 and Slowness 2 for 3s, and highlight the Survivor for 7s. Sentinels can destroy clones with their stuns. Clones will despawn after 27 seconds.
M3: Inject
Cooldown: 10s
“Any suspected forms of hacking should be reported to Robloxian Moderation Staff immediately.” -Official statement published by Robloxia H.Q.
Pathfind will cause the clones to latch on to the closest Survivor within 200 studs of them, chasing them down and dealing an increased 30 damage in exchange for a decreased despawn timer, despawing after 20 seconds.
Cursor will cause the clones to follow them player’s cursor, decreasing their speed slightly in exchange for preciser controls.
Clones can be assigned to different behaviors from each other.
M4: c00lgui
Cooldown: 45s
“Forsaken NOOB vs PRO vs HACKER” -???
007n7 teleports to the furthest spawn from him, revealing all Survivor auras to him for 7 seconds. If a Survivor has been hit by a clone before, their aura will be marked longer. If a Survivor is within 30 studs of the furthest spawn from him when he teleports, 007n7 will gain Speed 1 for 7 seconds. Cooldown halved at the start of the round.
+++
Getting harassed by a soldier and Admin wasn’t exactly 007n7’s idea of a good time, even if they were barely able to touch him. They were just too annoying, yelling about how it wasn’t him (it was) and how he needed to come to his senses (he was), so he just teleported out of there, much to their bewildered faces. Maybe if he shook up someone easier to scare he’d have more fun, and then he’d come back to deal with them later. He opened his eyes just in time to see himself standing in a massive puddle of Corrupted code, rolling his eyes. Ugh. Note to him, kill John before he can set up traps next time.
007n7 sent a clone through the offices and breakroom, diverting the other one to the furthest Spawn from him. It would flush out anyone hiding; maybe even one of the annoying ones like the rookie or the wizard. Yes, he could see the highlighted clone lock on, 007n7 rushing to cut them off from the front entrance as he heard the plink of a coin being flipped. In the office, the gambler stood protectively in front of a red kid, who chucked some sort of weird brick at the clone, sending it sprawling to the floor. He flinched violently, retreating further behind the gambler where his eyes locked with 007n7. "Chance-"
"I know, kid. You remember what I said?" Chance aimed the gun carefully and precisely, waiting to see what 007n7 would do next. "It doesn't matter what he says..."
The kid wiped his face. "...It isn't him."
He scoffed. Well, it was good to know he still inspired fear to the point of denial. "Of course it's me. You think any other two-bit Exploiter would have skills like this? Face it, 007n7's back and better than ever!"
Chance pulled the trigger of the gun right as he lunged forwards, striking him dead in the head and shattering his screen. With a frustrated growl, he recoiled as the code knit itself back together. For just a moment, something flickered through the cracks. A box, left on his doorstep. A vow to be better. For him. It was all for him. "...C00lkidd?"
The boy's eye's widened as he turned around. "Dad?"
007n7's screen finished regenerating, right as Chance yanked firmly on his arm and pushed C00lkidd in front of them. Finally, he was able to shake off whatever disorentation the shot gave him, chasing after them. "I'm going to mangle you for that!"
"Yeah, well you're going to have to catch me first!" They ran out of the cafeteria, aiming for the ramp. 007n7 surged forwards, shredding through the gambler's back as he staggered with a pained hiss. The kid ducked behind the cake display, pulling up a gui of his own. "No, C00lkidd! Just run!"
"I can't lose you too!" The boy typed with surprising efficiency and speed for someone so young. 007n7 would've been impressed if he saw it. Given how he was preoccupied with tossing the now-dead gambler's body to the side, he didn't. Chance's coin fell out of their pocket and rolled to a halt in front of C00lkidd's feet, right as the command finished loading.
"Well, that was quick." 007n7 strode up to the kid, who hadn't stopped staring at the coin. Before C00lkidd could run, 007n7 had grabbed him by the back of his shirt and lifted him up to eye level. "What the hell is someone as young as you doing here?"
What was 007n7 doing here? Exploiting, obviously. It was only an Experience; death wasn't permanent here. He was just having a bit of fun. Then why did he feel revulsion curl in his stomach, so powerful it almost made him throw up on the spot? C00lkidd thrashed and tried to pry his hand off, but his strength came nowhere near 007n7's.
"Dad," he whimpered, trying and failing to curl up. "I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry, please don't hurt me, I'm sorry-"
That was a thing children did, right? Call out for their parents when distressed? Fuck. 007n7 was going to be sick. His head swam. His knees threatened to give out from underneath him. His fingers slipped on his keyboard as he typed out a teleportation command, trying his hardest to tune out the sobs and failing. In a flash of code, C00lkidd was sent to whatever the Survivor Lobby was. Far away from here, hopefully. His breathing refused to calm down, sharp and stabbing, despite how often 007n7 told himself that it was just some random kid who got caught somewhere he should've been. He sat down, back pressed against the glass display case, furiously running his hand through his hair underneath this stupid hat of his. Fuck! This was why he gave up hacking in the first place! Gave up? No, why would he ever..?
His screen pointed out a Survivor hovering near the edges of the entrance to the factory. The pizza boy that he had been so fond of tormenting in the past, looking almost like he wanted to reach out to 007n7. A grudge buried after years of mutual suffering. Don’t be stupid. They would never forgive you. They never did.
Admins were here. That only meant one thing if you were an exploiter. Banishment or death. He didn’t want to die ever again- at all, he had never died, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to give up right now. 007n7 pounded his fist on the panel, summoning two clones and directing them forwards. The soldier and Shedletsky stepped up first, no doubt looking to knock out his clones and leave him weakened again. No mocking. No snide remarks. He couldn’t afford to lose focus.
007n7 went for Shedlesky, more vulnerable than the soldier who had blocked his attacks back at their earlier fight. A glowing shield repelled his claws, leaving 007n7 to hastily redirect his clones to deal with Dusekkar. He barely avoided the sword again, soldier charging into one of his clones and knocking it down as the second one sneaked past and broke Dusekkar’s concentration. That was the most damage he had on anyone. 007n7 had found the weakest link.
+++
The Specter was annoyed. Did none of the Survivors have the ability to kill someone without whining and wailing over it? It gave them freedom from the deaths they lamented so much, and now they were being ungrateful that they were empowered. It just couldn’t win, could it?
Frustrated, it looked over the people it had chosen. The Demolitionist had always been afraid ever since their kin began to get killed, and despite her hand in past deaths he lacked the drive to fully commit. The cultist seemed like a shoe-in for a violent murderer, but they had spent half their round preaching to the others as if they’d just lay down and let themselves get stabbed. It had thought for sure that the Exploiter would just give in and enjoy the high he had once craved so dearly, but he had somehow managed to cling on to memories of being a father despite all of its hard work to suppress it.
One thing stopped the Specter’s foul mood. It was well fed, having a huge supply of power from the despair of the Survivors, who had lost their companions, and the Killers, dreading to see if they were next. This plan could be fixed. It just needed to polish it a bit. Who to take next? The builder had caught onto its previous method, and it didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being proven right. With a sigh, it picked the wizard. It could do something interesting with them, couldn’t it?
In the Survivor Lobby, C00lkidd and Chance sat side by side on the couch. C00lkidd felt like he should cry again, but none of the tears came out. His mind was exhausted with the stress of the past few days, and he barely had the energy to stay awake at all. He leaned on Chance, lost in thought as he mulled over 007n7’s brief moment of clarity. His father always said that C00lkidd had changed him for the better. It was only now that he truly realized what he meant.
Chance flicked their coin again and again. Heads. Heads. Heads. It felt like Lady Luck was mocking him, giving them all the charges he needed when they were safely inside the cabin.
…Look, he wasn’t a defeatist, okay? Chance was the kinda guy who refused to back down until it was completely and utterly over, all options well and truly unavailable. They fought tooth and nail, even when the chips were stacked against them. He was just being realistic this time. Saddled with this stupid gimmick of an exploding gun, uselessness scalded in his stomach now more than ever. The only Sentinel who failed at his job so often it had become a joke, Chance and their unreliable gun that killed him more often than it did save people. That was why when people were in trouble they always went to Guest 1337 or Shedletsky; because they didn’t have that minuscule caveat that their stun just wouldn’t work.
He always felt awful whenever they curled up next to a Dispenser or took a pizza slice or used a medkit, taking up resources that people more important than him needed. It had been easier to shake off when they were just expected to die over and over again. Now, every flick of their coin felt like a death sentence.
“Chance?” C00lkidd croaked, tugging on his arm. “…is the Specter finished taking people?”
“I don’t know, kid. I hope so.” Chance said. If it was, then he just felt worse. The Survivors had lost an incredible trapper who allowed vital escapes, a stealthy Sentinel who was always there when you needed them, and the best generator repairman in hell. Why hadn’t a liability like him been removed?
C00lkidd curled up further. “Please don’t go. I don’t wanna be alone.”
“If I had it my way, kid, you wouldn’t be.” Chance slung an arm around him. “I’ll try my hardest, okay?”
“…okay.”
For an hour, it was just them and the silent tick of the grandfather clock like it always did. No one else showed up in the lobby, causing hope to rise in Chance’s chest. Maybe it really was over. The clock bonged loudly, and with it everyone in the lobby reappeared. Silence struck as everyone took in the fact that Chance was still here.
“You’re alive?” Elliot asked, not daring to believe what he saw.
“Surprise.” Chance smiled as he tacked them into a hug.
“Is Dusekkar alright too?” They were hit with the awful sinking feeling of realizing that maybe he hadn’t come out of this unscathed either.
“What? No, I haven’t seen him- he died?” It was as if all air had been sucked out of the room. Chance was a lucky man, but he knew they didn’t deserve to be here when Dusekkar wasn’t. He had died first, because of his own stupid Weakness. By all logic, he should be gone.
“No,” Builderman whispered, looking deathly pale. “No, no, there was a pattern, we figured it out-“
The cabin erupted into noisy chatter once more as the Specter waited patiently to have a nice, long talk with Dusekkar.