Chapter Text
The trials as of late had been an ever ending loop of kill, survive, and die.
A loop that the Specter had grown tired of these last few rounds, no longer just content with the brutal cycle. Every game of cat and mouse always needed a new twist to keep it fresh for the audience, if not for that: the game would be stale at least and unbearable to watch at most.
It thought long and hard to cure its unending boredom.
There was always adding a second killer to the fold, and although a thrilling thought to watch the survivors squirm and fight desperately to fight off not only one but two of its monsters. that would only make the games last fewer than a minute, or so.
It had been rather fast for the killers to win as of late, given with how they seem to have learned the best ways to catch and slaughter the poor creatures that run aimlessly around the trails.
Then, like the creation of the games they all played, Specter had an idea. Why not mix it with something special, why not give the killers some hungry animals to gather and try to tame.
Hunger unquenched, little blood suckers that were always thirsty, vampires if it thought hard enough. Now that would be fun. But, to sustain such creatures they would need a blood bank that wasn’t made of code or star dust.
It’s monsters couldn’t bleed like those robloxians could.
What a shame that not all of the survivors could be blood hungry creatures, specter had to sacrifice one of them for the fun to last longer than one day. Lest they die from hunger.
Death by something so simple. Pathetic, but it was necessary to feed.
It thought of who, there was the pizza one. Weak; fragile even, but strong legs that carried him far distances. Noob, quiet always in the distance completing generators within minutes, but he could take a blow or two. Then there were always the fighters. The blue haired one would be an interesting pick, but same with the religious nut.
Oh, so many choices. How could it choose just one?
Why pick when it could just let fate decide itself out. If all else fails it could always trust lady destiny. That seemed more than fair, no favoritism from the universe, no outside interference.
Just luck.
last man standing for this next trial, no matter who would be the blood for it’s new creatures.
——-----
The first thing 007n7 noticed about this round of cat and mouse was the watch's time. It wouldn’t stop flickering random nonsense, no matter how much the burger hat man would tinker with the device. 007 eventually just gave up on the device, maybe it was just a bug with his own watch.
The second notice was the fact there were no generators, not a single one. The single father understood now that this round was different, it wasn’t just a coincidence that things were missing. Him and the rest of the survivors quickly realized that there was only one medkit and two Bloxycola, with more than five players in the trial.
It didn’t help that the monster happened to be champion 1x1. The manifestation of hatred was quick and brutal with its killing. Always up to put a show on, so the being upstairs would delight with the champions entertainment.
The survivors didn’t know what specter was up too, and they frankly didn’t have time to think about it.
It was clear that the Specter wanted them to play some sort of endless survival, but for how long could that last for? The watches still hadn’t worked, they were running out of supplies that they barely even had, and people were dropping like flies.
Soon it was just 7n7 and 2 others, everyone else had died long ago or just been slashed open by the champion's golden sword. Guest fought off 1x1 with his bear fists while Elliot ran on less than a quarter of health. The medkit long since used up and the Bloxycolas drank through.
007 watched from the sidelines as Guest and Elliot fled from the golden rage. He hurled clones at the towering manifestation as if he were made of them. Eventually, he exerted himself to the point that he could no longer summon any additional clones.
Running, screaming, and the countless times he tried and failed to get the killer's attention, but it seemed like 1x4 had no interest in the ex-hacker's clones at all.
How long had they been in this trial? More than just one hour that was explicitly clear, if the soldier himself was tired it had to have been a couple of hours already.
007 caught his breath against a wall, letting his weak legs collapse under his own weight. He heard it: the grunt of the pizza boy falling, followed by the sound of entanglement flying through the air and hitting Elliot.
Now it was just him and Guest.
Why was he so scared now? He had been through these games hundreds of times, if not thousands he should be more than used to them. So then why was he holding his breath and shaking? At this point he just wanted this to be over so he could forget about this round and tuck himself into his own bed for the night.
He should be dead by now; there were times when he should have died. countless times, but he was still here, barely alive, living off scraps of pizza and adrenaline that seemed to pump eternal. The father took in a breath, taking it slow. Steady. Just as he had taught C00lkid when he was having a fit.
He stood up from the corner, peeking his head so he could spot the blue haired soldier who was blocking one of 1x1’s brutal attacks, he blocked successfully it seemed. Now was a perfect chance to try to stall sometime for Guest.
With all the leftover strength he could muster up, he threw out a clone that headed straight for the two of them. Slightly stunned 1x1 stared at the clone that seemed to just stare at 1x1. Standing right in the way of Guest. “You pathetic pest, just stand right there”
Champion charged up his mass infection using the clone as a sort of cross hair. The shockwave ran straight though the mockery of the robloxian and cut down Guest 1337.
Now it was just 007n7. The last man standing.
1x1 twisted his body to the direction of the single father, a faint glow of a zippered smile shined through the golden cowl, the glow of it’s white eye steered down 007. It swad his sword in a circular motion as they walked ever so slowly to the stunned father.
“Congratulations pest” its voice rang out deep and tingly in 007n7’s ears, then a beep came from his wrist, his watch now finally working with the time counting down from a minute fifteen. “now-”
“Its just me and you” when the manifestation finished his sentence it frowned, with a mumble under its breath. “Although, I wished it had been someone more interesting, even my father would be better than this” it shakes it’s head, disappointed.
007 didn’t waste anymore time to pull out his C00lgui almost instantly teleporting away from the champion. Now he just had to survive a minute, he could do that.
—--------
The single dad had no clue on how he survived that round, his hands shaking with nerves that ran his body to overdrive. He hadn’t felt like that in quite some time. He was back to that table, the one they would all spawn back too when the game was won. He got up not expecting anyone to be waiting for him, not for this round.
Unless Chance died first or Guest was the second to last to die, then no one would be there to greet 007n7 when he got back to the lobby.
But even Guest wasn't there, Seven paid it no mind. The round had been hours long, the middle aged soldier must have been tired out of his mind. He retreated back to his own cabin too tired to eat and shower, it wasn’t like he ate after matches anyways; by the time rounds ended he had long lost his appetite.
Seven curled into his bed, letting the warmth of the covers and sheets consume him.
When the father awoke it wasn’t to the sounds of birds or cars running. Not even the laughter of his red kid. It was pure silence, only the faint noses of crickets chirping and the air blowing against his window, midnight once Again. 007 got up from his bed, he wasn’t allowed to bed rot today just like every other day.
His body yearned for the bitter sweet creamy coffee he loved to consume. He pushed his way to the lobby, where some of the other survivors were mingling and chatting. 007 walked past, not wanting to be rude as he went to make his coffee.
The usual smell of breakfast bacon and egg filled the kitchen making his mouth drool, he was more than surprised to see two full plates stacked high. Seven’s body jolted to life, happy to eat his troubles away, he walked over to the coffee machine pouring his position of the good stuff. He severed himself a plate, digging into his food. It was delicious and a good way to start his morning.
Half way through his plate Shedletsky walked into the kitchen and looked at 007, the single father’s tail wagging back and forth as he ate. “Hey are you eating the breakfast?” Shedletsky said, blinking at 7n7.
“Yeah, is something wrong?” Shed walked over to the man and put his hand on the table. He sniffed the air, his face twisting softly in disgust before he would give out a little chuckle.
“Well it's because the food went bad. Don't you smell it? Does it not taste bad man?” Shed’s face wrinkled just thinking about the food that he had tasted earlier. It was bitter, rotten and gamy, not a good flavor to wake up too.
“Oh, are you sure? It seems fine to me” 007n7 spit out the piece of bacon from his mouth, it didn't taste bad but if Shedletsky of all people was saying something, he could trust it. “It doesn’t taste bad at all”
“I think I'm more than sure, even Elliot didn’t eat it. And you know it's good because I made it” the ex-admin let out that goofy little smile he made when he was proud of himself. “Well at least I thought it was, the food must have gone bad over night” His face shifted to a concerned shape.
007n7 got up from the chair he sat at, everyone must have eaten while he was still asleep. He dumped the plate with a small frown, sad that he couldn’t eat anymore then he had already. He washed the plate and dumped the rest of the food.
Guest and Elliot walked into the kitchen just as Seven was about to leave for the bathroom to wash up before the rounds began. Guest stopped him in his tracks. "Morning, Seven. Did you eat breakfast? I’m sorry about that; if I had known, I would have told you sooner, bud." The older man smiled softly, a warm expression that gave every survivor in this godforsaken place a glimmer of hope. Elliot avoided eye contact, as usual, but unlike his typical demeanor, he didn’t frown.
“Anyways, I'm glad you survived last round.” The last Guest wrapped his arm around the upper part of 007’s shoulder blades patting it softly with a chuckle. Instead of pulling away immediately after Guest’s face turned to concern, 007 shivered from Guest's touch. The other man was cold like ice rubbing on Sevens skin, he pulled away with a flinch.
“Guest You're really cold are you okay?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing” Guest raised his eyebrow, his hand running over the single fathers forehead. The man was on fire against 1337’s cold touch. “seems like you have a fever, Elliot check it” Guest grabbed Elliot's hand and placed the smaller digits on 007’s face.
“Hey i- wait you’re burning” Elliot muttered his fingers brushing closer to the skin, like his hand seeked out the warmth. Elliot found his own hand traveling down past his eye socket, through his plump warm cheeks and finally to the pulse of the father’s neck. Heat: warmth that Elliot indulged in. The other man’s pulse beats loudly against the pizza man's finger tips. Pulsing, beating, throbbing, pounding , thumping, drumming.
Bleeding
Once again, 007 pulled away “Are you sure I'm sick?” Seven paused, not wanting to be rude while they were trying to help. “Sorry, but you guys feel so cold.” He considered the possibility that he might be sick, he checked his own forehead, feeling decent at most.
But not feverish.
Shedletsky walked over and placed his entire palm on the ex-hacker's forehead, coldness brushing against his horns.
It was an unfamiliar feeling to have so much attention on him, let alone the number of hands that had just touched him in the past five minutes that he had been standing there.
“Yup, you’re sick, alright,” the ex-admin said, flicking his hand dramatically as if it had been touched by lava. The father narrowed his eyes; it was clear they thought that he was unwell, but there was nothing he could do about it. It wasn’t as if he could rest in this hellhole. All Seven could do was nod in agreement.
Suddenly, a nice cold shower was calling to him more than the restlessness he had once felt. The rounds would start soon enough anyway; he would much rather run around clean and somewhat sick than gross, greasy, and borderline dying.
“I’ll take care of it,” the man muttered, deciding to end the conversation there.
007n7 left, unaware of how Elliot bit his bottom lip, his eyes dilated as he stared at his own hand.