Chapter Text
It was just self defense.
They attacked first. They tried to kill him. Frederic. The monsters. He just attacked back. It isn’t his fault. He isn’t at fault. Nothing- no one died by his hands. It’s their fault! Their fault for attacking him! He was scared- wanted to live! They… They NEEDED to die.
…But when does a candle become a blaze?
When does the reason become the blame?
When does a man become a monster…?
The bodies are lying there. Still on the floor. He doesn’t know what to do.
He’s a murderer? No- no, that can’t be…
Suddenly, the silence that filled his brain was replaced by screaming.
“OH MY GOD!! FACELESS! FACELESS- WHAT DID YOU DO?! BRING THEM TO ME, PLEASE!! I CAN HELP THEM! I CAN SAVE THEM- FACELES-”
“They’re… dead?”
“F-Facey?”
That last one wasn’t in his mind, he realizes.
Frederic turns to look at Wriggly, his form instinctively trying to curl back into the form he was painted as. His eyes bore into the small painting, the purple hues shimmering under the flickering light.
“...” Wriggly’s mouth opens, as if to say something.
And then he darts into the fridge, holding the door tightly shut. Frederic tries to open it, but Wriggly’s grip is threatening to snap his fingers off if he tries.
Someone is screaming- no- multiple someones. All at once. It hurts his brain. They keep screaming. Over and over- and over and over-
and over
and over.
He snaps out of it.
Wow, he really fucked himself over. The people who were supposed to get rid of the pests in his head are dead. Don’t think about how you’re a murderer. Bright is still screaming in his head. Begging for Faceless to let him help the people who tried to murder him. But luckily…
His name isn’t Faceless.
The rest are judging him. He knows they are. Why wouldn’t they be?! He’s a murderer! He’s a horrible person! He- he actually killed someone. Who else will he kill? Fabrice? His family? His friends?
No- no.. He wouldn’t.. he can’t..
Maybe he should’ve stayed in that damn painting.
—--
Tumor is choking. What is going on? Everyone is screaming. They shouldn’t be screaming. He tries to call out to someone, confused on what’s going on.
“Giifllgllluurp…”
He spews out blood, nearly choking on it.
Tumor can barely breathe, the paint filling his lungs and melting, and shifting all around him.
It hurts. He wants to die.
Did someone else die?
Why couldn’t it have been him?
—--
Great. This is just FUCKING GREAT! Faceless is a murderer! Someone has DIED. Who else will go? Godhead? Scared? ALL OF THEM?!
NO-
Toxic needs to get rid of them. Before Facetaker strikes. He’s already proven he’ll kill someone for his own benefit. So naturally, they’ll all be next.
Toxic needs to plot. Think deeply about this. He doesn’t know what to do…
He hadn’t accounted for this.
—--
Bright is sobbing. Faceless is a MONSTER. He murdered four people in cold blood- Won’t even bring their bodies over so Bright can TRY TO SAVE THEM! No- no- no- They’re dead. The blood is spreading. It’s seeping into the wood.
He can smell the death spreading through the house. He failed- he failed to save them. This is all HIS FAULT. He caused their deaths! Bright- Bright should’ve done something to stop them from fighting Faceless! He should’ve- should’ve-
This is all Bright’s fault. He could’ve saved their lives. But instead, he doomed them to a fate worse than all of theirs.
He tries to beg to help them. “FACELESS! PLEASE! L-LET ME HELP THEM! I CAN SAVE THEM! PLEASE-” Faceless blocks out his message, a hiss being sent back.
What is Bright supposed to do? He can’t save them. He can’t help anyone. He failed.
He really is useless.
—--
Scared is trembling. Faceless is even worse than he thought. He’s terrified. There’s nothing he can do- Faceless can just come in here and KILL HIM. Scared isn’t strong! He’s the weakest of all of them! He’s going to die here. Alone and afraid.
Murdered by the one who was supposed to be the fakest one of all of them. And now… he’s going to be the last.
Scared hears footsteps. No- no- THAT’S FACELESS. HE KNOWS IT IS. HE’S GOING TO DIE LIKE THIS. HE NEEDS TO ESCAPE NOW
Scared bolts out of the closet, nearly darting into the gaping hole. But right before Scared finds a new place to hide, the door opens.
—--
Godhead doesn’t know what to do. This is serious, now. 4 innocents just died because of their actions. He could’ve saved them, maybe? He could’ve told them that none of them needed to die. He didn’t need the others to die anyways! He just wanted them to die so that the voices would be gone- so that they wouldn’t try to kill him either!
This is Godhead’s fault. He knows it is.
Now he needs to fix it.
Scared is terrified. He can feel it. Maybe…
Maybe Godhead can save at least some of them. Even if he can’t save the people Faceless already killed. He can save the paintings that don’t deserve what Faceless will do to them. He knows they’ll die if Godhead leaves without at least trying to take them with him.
He leaves the room for the first time in multiple days. Bitey is hiding in the corner, trembling. Godhead wishes he could bring him too, but Bitey would hurt him accidentally. He can’t risk dying like this. He has to get out safely first.
He floats over the pit separating the hall. He’s not sure how he does this. Talent? Instinct? Whatever, he’ll figure it out later. He walks over to Scared’s room. He can sense the overwhelming fear from the other side.
He opens the door, and Scared is on the floor, covering his body with his tentacles. Godhead knows he probably shouldn’t do this so abruptly, but…
He scoops Scared up like a baby, trying not to hurt him and-
“AAAGHHHH!!!”
Scared squirms, screaming and trying to escape.
“Hey- hey- shut up!” Godhead tries to get Scared to quiet down. He doesn’t want Faceless to hear- to realize-
“YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME!!”
“No- no, I’m not- Scared, please-” Godhead tries to hold Scared comfortably? In a less threatening gesture? Something to get him to stop panicking.
“GET AWAY FROM ME!”
Godhead decides he needs to retreat back to the room he was in, Scared in tow.
He practically sprints over there, Scared struggling in his arms.
Locking the door behind him, he gently puts Scared down, watching as he slithers as fast as he can into a corner.
“Scared.. I’m not gonna hurt you- please..” Godhead pauses. He’s unsure of what to say. He’s one of the people who wanted to kill him, after all. “We- we need to get out of here. Faceless is probably gonna try and kill us. This is.. serious.”
“...You’re not g-going to kill me?”
“No. Let’s.. We can wait here until you’re ready to try and get out. I don’t wait to l-leave any of us behind with.. him.” He knows he has to, but he’ll at least take the weakest of them. Wriggly and Scared. “That’s basically sentencing you to death, haha…”
“You’re really joking at a t-time like this…?”
“Yeah, that was stale… Sorry.”
“W-what now?”
“...I don’t know.”
—--
Frederic isn’t fully sure what’s going on. He can sense distinct emotions all around, but can’t make sense of any of them. They’re not his. But where are they coming from. Whispers echo in the back of his mind, but no words can be made out.
He tries to look around. Everything is dark. The only things he can truly see are himself, and the paint splatters on the floor.
Where is his face? It is gone. Where? The hole goes so deep inside of him, it may have replaced everything inside of him. Is he even Frederic anymore?
The emptiness inside of him is immeasurably deep. His face… where is it… where did it…
He needs to get it back. Now.
Frederic can only feel one thing brewing inside of him. All his emotions have dissipated, never to be seen again, but the determination to become himself once more is coursing through his veins. He’s going to take back
his life.
Something is prodding. Poking at his thoughts. It can’t have them. Frederic’s thoughts are his, and his alone.
As Frederic walks, trying to find a way to his face, he can sense it; wriggling, on a body that isn’t his, something blocks his path. Feeling it, it appears to be a door.
He steps back, slamming his body into it.
It doesn’t budge, and he tries it again.
It hurts, but again he goes. Eventually, he gives up, despaired at the fact he was unable to escape his tomb. Until suddenly, he hears it slam down, breaking. Looking up, he sees a shadowy black paint creature retreating back into the darkness from whence it came, hiding away.
Frederic gets up, stumbling through the workshop. His arms try to hold onto anything he finds.
He’s always been scared of the dark. And now he must transverse it in order to gain back what he desires. His life. His face. His name.
His everything was taken from him in an instant, and he’s not letting it go that easily.
He may be just a man, but he’s ready to become a monster.
—--
Frederic was still standing over the bodies. Wearing the face that was his. He won. This may be his fault, but they deserved it.
He needs to kill the others. He’s already a murderer. So why should he care about adding more ‘people’ to that body count? They’re barely even people. Just paintings that should’ve never been created. Never put to page. Never existed at all.
He doesn’t notice the faceless thing until he feels it trying to grab his face.
Hissing under his breath, he strikes, biting it and pushing it away. It gets up quickly, four fists raising, ready to take what doesn’t belong to it.
That horrid thing. It thinks it can steal from FREDERIC? No. He won’t let it.
He just needs to kill it.
And then it’ll be GONE. The problem will be-
It lunges at him and manages to rip the face off in one clean pull.
Frederic shrieks, grabbing the hole where his face is supposed to be. The faceless thing puts on the face, becoming what Frederic was worried it would become.
The ‘real’ Frederic.
Not a faker.
Like what he was.
He’s… just a man. Against the version of him he so desperately wanted to be.
Faceless should’ve fought him. Killed him. But instead, he ran, tears seemingly appearing out of nowhere, as he stuffs himself into the closet, hiding from his emotions, hiding from
him.
—--
Godhead feels a new voice rise up in the cacophony of their thoughts. A confused one. A saddened one. A worn voice.
Faceless seems quiet. Godhead can’t hear him anymore. Is he dead? Can’t even feel any emotions from him…
However, the other voice.. The new one echoing in his mind… It is empty. Thoughts are spilling out from it, but at the same time, no emotions can be felt from this strange new presence. It honestly hurts his brain.
He gets up. He has a feeling…
The creation must now face its creator.