Chapter Text
Their eyes ache.
Y/N keeps their eyelids half shut. The figures in the room remain a blur, their vision not yet evened out. Multiple people stand around the area—it looks like there are around eight people, but that may just be their vision playing tricks on them.
A figure kneels—Y/N barely notices him approaching—he’s wearing a grey, blue, and red outfit. His voice is soft, but equally full of authority. Yet, Y/N can’t make out a full sentence of his words; Their brain refuses to put it all together.
Another figure kneels beside them, this one seeming to act more urgently. Their palette consists of simple shades of white, grey, and black.
The monotone figure grabs Y/N’s side before shaking them. The trance that had taken Y/N before fades quickly as the figures take the shape of people. There are indeed 8 people, Y/N was right. The onlookers’ eyes stay trained on Y/N whilst they talk with each other. Although they aren’t close enough for them to hear, Y/N manages to make out some words—‘New’, ‘danger’, ‘wrong timing’ and so on.
“Get up, the round’s about to start!” The monotone figure wore a hat and sunglasses. Their straight, grey hair, which matched their skin tone, stood out beneath the fedora. Their tie seemed to fall loose from the suit as it dangled over Y/N.
Y/N moved their eyes back to the figures in the background—many of which appeared Robloxian, with the exception of one: A man who levitated. His head looked to be a blue pumpkin with a fire inside. Atop his head rested two pairs of antlers, whilst his clothes resembled grey robes with indescribable language plastered along them.
Y/N fights against their body’s protest to stay still. Sitting up, the other man helps them. Wrinkles plaster his face on a larger scale compared to the younger, monotone man who sits to his right.
“…Where am-“
“Shit, it’s gonna start!” The monotone man interrupts Y/N.
“Just hide, and whatever you do, don’t-!” The older man chimes in, but before his words hold worth, Y/N finds themself in an entirely different environment.
The hard wooden floor and warm atmosphere that ‘comforted’ them before is gone and replaced with what seems like a graveyard. The air is crisp and carries an acidic, poisonous smell. Their nose tingles in discomfort as the scent lingers in their nostrils.
Lifting their body, Y/N manages to stand on shaky legs. Almost falling, they quickly grab onto a nearby tree for support. Y/N glances around the graveyard; It isn’t huge, and Y/N could very easily leave through one of the four openings, but they remember what the older man had stated before they were teleported.
”Just hide, and whatever you do, don’t-!”
It’s comical, truly! The sentence being left unfinished at what seems the most important part!
Y/N pushes off the tree, moving sluggishly towards what looks like a machine of sorts. Sitting down beside it, Y/N pulls their knees to their chest. They want to cry, but what would they cry about? They had only just noticed that their memories were completely wiped, with only their name sticking with them. Maybe it was for the better, maybe this was hell, and they had done some unforgivable act to deserve it.
That’s when they hear it—a bloodcurdling, unidentifiable noise. Almost like a call in another language, but twisted and echoed to sound more terrifying purposely.
It played again, this time louder, allowing Y/N to hear it clearer.
Ki ki ma ma…
They see it out of the corner of their eye, but they are too slow. A machete swings straight at them, causing a large gash across their shoulder. Y/N screams; Screams louder than they thought they could. The perpetrator’s face hides behind a mask covered in dirt and…fresh blood? Were there other people in the area? Was it the same people from when they woke up? No time for this. Scrambling to their feet, Y/N ran. If they were to stay, the maniac would surely take their head next.
They run over a bridge. The putrid smell intensifies as they walk over the acidic, green water—if it can even be called water.
Glancing behind them, they notice the maniac keeping speed, if not catching up. Y/N’s eyes dart back in front of them. A bridge formation, of what seems like dirt, rests connecting the two sides. They book it towards the make-shift bridge. The soft dirt takes them by surprise as they slip and fall into the acidic water. Their skin starts to burn, and the maniac gains another hit. This time, the cut is deeper and lies on their back. Y/N lets out another scream before getting up, this time much slower. They get out of the river, and the burning stops, but the after-sting of acid lingers on their skin.
They continue to run.
Y/N glances back to see how close they are, and if perfect timing, they watch as the maniac prepares to deal another blow. They can only watch in terror as his machete lowers to hit them square in the hea-
A man in what seems to be the military uniform of a high-ranking officer quickly runs in front of the killer, blocking the machete with just his arm. The man’s blue hair catches Y/N’s eye, along with his strong figure and intimidating height. Y/N lets out a short sigh of relief, but they know that was only one attack. The man backs up, protecting Y/N behind him.
“Thank you, we should run before-“ Y/N falls silent when they realize them talking messed up the man’s punch.
The man’s fist was on route to score the middle of the maniac’s face before Y/N momentarily distracts him. His fist doesn’t move fast enough as the maniac quickly slashes him across the stomach, messing up the punch entirely. The man stumbles back but stops himself to make sure not to knock Y/N over.
“Run!” The man balances his ground, preparing to stand against the psycho once again.
“I can’t just leave you, especially since I messed up your attack!”
“You’re lower than me, one more hit and you’re done.” He said whilst swiftly moving him and Y/N out of the way to dodge an attack. Y/N bit their tongue. He was right, one more hit and Y/N may not even be able to stand.
The maniac threw another hit, this time it was clear the military man wouldn’t have time to move, but Y/N might be able to.
Without thinking, they moved themself in front of the man to take the attack.
Why?
They don’t believe the man’s life is more valuable than their own. Maybe to return the favour of saving their life, but all they did was reverse their good deed.
Y/N doesn’t think sometimes, how stupid of them.
They feel the machete go right into their face. It hurts like hell. They want to scream, but clearly the machete sliced right into the brain; they’re pretty much a ragdoll. No thoughts of anything smart or cocky. Just pain, so much pain.