Chapter Text
“We need to take our chance while we still have it,” the American on the sofa stressed. “If we don’t-”
The green-haired man shook his head as his hands idly fidgeted with the book, watching the other man finish up tying the bandage. “We can’t yet,” he argued. “I want to. Believe me, I want to. But we still need to meet up with Felix and Ken-”
“Yeah, um, about that-”
Blue eyes stared at the man, slowly widening in realization. The color quickly drained from cheeks that had reddened from running and exhaustion. The Irishman didn’t even have to ask for a continuation of that sentence; the way the other man had to look away, swallowing hard while blinking back tears and all the while struggling under the immense effort of maintaining his composure-at least until they made it out of this hellhole.
“No…” the Irishman whispered when he’d finally managed to reattach his jaw, shaking his head fervently. “I thought-I thought you said they were hiding upstairs-”
“Yeah, uh, well they were-” the American replied, unable to keep his voice from breaking in spite of all attempts to do otherwise.
“It found them?!” The Irishman stared at his companion for several long moments as silence weighed on them like a smothering blanket, sucking all the oxygen out of the room. All the American could do was nod to avoid just outright losing it, and briefly the Irishman wondered how he’d even managed up to this point. Then again, considering that they’d lost so many others throughout this nightmare-
Still, that didn’t dull the pain at all, and he wasn’t able to remain still anymore. Before he himself even realized, the book was on the table and he stood up to pace a couple rounds before punching the wall next to him. “Goddammit!”
“Jack-!” the American reprimanded before sucking in another breath and shaking his head. “Shut up or it’s going to hear you. Hear us.”
The Irishman-Jack-pursed his lips for a moment before going over to the sofa on the other side of the coffee table and plopping down, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward almost double with his face in his hands. Focus on his breathing. That’s what he needed to do, just focus on his breathing before he did anything else stupid. Still, it was shaky, he could feel his whole body shaking from the shock and anger and sorrow.
Silence fell over the room again before the American finally broke it with soft tones. “Sorry. I’m just-sorry-”
“No, you don’t even need to be, Mark,” Jack cut off quietly, but his words were barely audible for once.
Mark stared at Jack for several long moments with a frown before finally sighing and looking away again. “It’s just us now. We have to get out of here. If not for ourselves, then-”
“Yeah.” Jack swallowed the hard lump that had formed in his throat, trying to maintain his composure now as well. The relief and joy at the idea of actually leaving this place had long-since been sobered and tainted with the reality of recent events and the things expected to follow their escape in the near-future. They were the only ones that knew what happened to eight other people. Good people that thousands, even millions of people cared about. And they were going to have to break the news to their loved ones, their friends, their families, their communities-
The thought alone was overwhelming.
Good god, how had Mark done it up to this point?
Jack drew in another shaky breath as he finished, “For the people lost in here. For everyone.” Silence fell over the place again as Mark simply gave a nod of approval and leaned back on the sofa he semi-laid on, pressing his hands to his face for a long while before finally dragging them back down. Finally he sat up again, drawing in another deep breath and swinging himself around to face forward, the bridge of his nose crinkling for a split second in a glimmer of pain from his leg. The look on his face had gone back to serious, as if dragging his hands down it had helped to wipe away the hollowing pain of loss-or rather, more like they’d pulled the required mask back down for getting the job done.
“We can start worrying about all of that once we’re out of here,” he said quietly although wearily, in spite of his intent demeanor. “Does the book say anything else about getting out? Any further puzzles or traps?”
They both knew they were probably screwed if either of the questions were affirmative. There were so many of the handwritten pages written in Italian for some reason. Not all, but a lot. Felix had been managing to translate bits and pieces here and there (although roughly) thanks to practice from Marzia. Cry had been solving most of the puzzles up to this point. But now-
“Ah-” Jack pulled in one final stabilizing breath before lifting his head and reaching forward to pull the book back over. He opened it, flipping through the pages. This book was so odd. If they’d been reading it right, it was like one part how-to guide for getting out of this house, one-part journal. And there was so many parts that were crossed out and notes added in, almost as if the same guy kept adding and/or correcting things in hindsight again and again. And those were just the blank pages that had been scribbled on, with rapid writing and drawings scrawled across them. The printed pages were a lot simpler, those were actually in English, but they all seemed to be full of nonsense. Like some of the more journal-oriented handwritten pages, they seemed to be rambling on about time and clock-turning and memory. Inside the back cover there was an intricately-inscribed clock with little moveable handles, like one might find on a game spinner. Oddly stained with blood, but they’d tried to ignore that.
In spite of its weirdness and being a hassle to cart around though, it actually had proven to be helpful up to this point. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have gotten the key to the front door without it, so…
As his blue eyes skimmed over the words, he shook his head and finally looked back up at the American. “No,” he replied. “I think now that we have the key, we can just run right on out.”
“Thank god,” Mark muttered, leaning back a slight bit as he let out a relieved sigh. “So just one more sprint down the hall. We can do that.”
“Can you?” Jack questioned, eyeing Mark’s bandaged leg worriedly. “We barely even managed to get you in here."
“I think it’s a bit better now that it’s all bandaged up,” Mark assured. “It’s not losing tons of blood anymore, at any rate.”
“I still think we should’ve stitched it up,” Jack remarked quietly.
“With what?” Mark shook his head. “We can worry about that once we’re out of here. As soon as we’ve cleared this place, we can call-what's the UK version of 911?"
“999, same as Ireland. And that’s assuming we can even make it to an area that has signal,” Jack replied. He sighed. “How do we know that thing isn’t going to follow us out? Chase us out the gate and through the woods?”
“We don’t,” Mark replied honestly. “But it’s still worth a try. We’ll probably stand a much better chance out there than in here and…” He cast a grim glance towards the door that had been locked and barred shut with a chair jammed under the knob. “Well. I don’t know about you, but if we don’t make it, if I don’t make it-I would much rather bite it out there than in here. Wouldn’t you?”
Jack stared at Mark for several long moments, heart skipping a beat at the mildly-panicked thought of losing yet another one of his friends-the last of his friends in here, in fact-but shoved it out of his mind as he looked back down at the book. His eyes didn’t register any of the scrawlings on the page, however, as his mind was too busy stressing and reassuring him that the situation Mark just posed was purely hypothetical. So finally he replied in quiet relent, “...I don’t wanna die in here.”
Mark drew in a breath and nodded. He’d noticed the Irishman’s breath catch, his body tense, but he wasn’t going to draw any attention to it. Instead he cast one final look around the large room. At first glance, this mansion would probably be fairly decent to live in, if not showing the telltale dusty and run-down signs of being abandoned for many years. It was cunning like that, drawing in the curious and eating them alive via the monster that roamed the halls. This room in particular: first floor, end of the right wing, rather large. They were currently in the lounge area of it, but just to his right there was a full kitchen separated off from the rest of the room only by countertop. Beyond the intentions of using this room as the main base of their livestream, they hadn’t found too much of use in here-or at least, not so much in the way of escaping or defending themselves anyway. There wasn’t even really much in the way of hiding places in this room, but they’d both concluded it’d be better than the library as far as that went. Plus they’d probably have more stuff to pick through in terms of medical supplies, as basic as that was.
Yeah. Just one more long sprint to the door and they would hopefully be home free-or at least breathing fresh air once more before they were killed.
To be honest, both sounded like the most optimal choices in comparison to just staying in here and being picked off like the others.
With a grimace, Mark slowly rose to his feet, instinctively putting more weight on his right foot than his left. Jack quickly got up to follow his movements, gathering up the book under one arm.
“Oh, careful, careful-” Jack cautioned, quickly moving to his side to help steady him.
“Thanks-” Mark replied, leaning a little of his weight on the shorter man as he regained his bearings. Eyeing the door, he asked, “Alright, so how are we gonna do this?”
Jack looked over at the door, thinking for a moment. “C’mon-” he finally said, helping Mark over to the door. “Alright, so uh...Imma gonna open the door. You just be ready to run.” He eyed Mark for a few seconds, uncertain. “You are gonna be able to move on your own, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I think so, just not as fast,” Mark confessed. “And don’t even think about having second thoughts about this. The only reason that thing hasn’t busted in here is because it hasn’t found us yet. I’m sure that lock and chair won’t do too much at this point, not with how much stronger it’s gotten.”
Jack hesitated, frowning and looking away. “Ohhh…” he said, the word drawn out from his tone being strung with uncertainty. “Okay.”
“As soon as that door is open, we run as fast as we can, straight to the front door. No stopping for absolutely anything.” Mark eyed Jack, expression firm. “I mean it, Jack.”
“Yeah, yeah, I-” Jack shifted uncomfortably, swallowing. “I got it.”
Mark nodded. “Any last words before we get going? Or in case this gets fucked up like all our other past attempts?”
Jack reached back to rub the back of his neck as he stepped back. “Uh-” To Mark’s surprise, Jack actually cracked some semblance of a weak smile, even if it didn’t really reach his eyes. “I guess- Well. Shit." He shook his head. "I guess we've been in here long enough, and we've played enough horror games together and otherwise. We know what to look out for and how any and all cliches are gonna play out. So between the two of us, I'm actually pretty confident that we're both gonna make it outta here with all of our limbs intact.” He paused. "And if we don't, there's going to be shitload of cursing and desire to hit the restart button."
Mark stared for a few long moments, and from the moment his words hit the air, Jack was already regretting them. They were a little bizarre and more than a little stupid, especially considering the very real circumstances they were in. In fairness, there probably was a little bit of disassociation to help him cope, and it really was the closest thing he could manage to relate all of this to: some kind of ultra-realistic horror game, but that didn't mean it was very appropriate. Considering all that had happened leading up to this point, in fact, he probably just crossed a line with that bit of stupid. Just as he winced and was about to apologize-
He saw Mark shaking. A light chuckle, then a full laugh that left Jack staring at first, but then chuckling along with also. Even when the laughter was sad, it was still somewhat infectious, especially in the face of high-octane stress.
“Is it sad that I've actually thought about that several times since everything went to hell?” Mark finally replied when his laughter had died down a bit, grinning to Jack. The grin was still laden with sadness but...it was good to hear a laugh and to see a smile after all the horrors they endured.
“Oh hell no,” Jack replied, returning the sad smile with one of his own. "Great minds think alike, I guess. Or stupid ones."
“Stupidly desperate ones that play way too many video games." Mark shook his head, reaching up to scratch it and ruffling his hair a bit in the process. "Well, uh-Jack? If we don’t make it, then…” He thought for a moment. “It’s been a real blast working with you, and in spite of whatever Youtube drama-”
“Community craziness,” Jack muttered. "Work schedules."
“Community craziness, work-all that-” Mark agreed, nodding. “In spite of everything that’s happened, you’re a really great friend. And...I wish you the very best in everything you do.”
Jack swallowed, trying to shove the nerves back down. Why was he suddenly getting a sinking feeling? It had to have been Mark’s words, they all sounded so...final.
“Jesus, you need to stop talking,” Jack muttered, shaking his head as he moved the chair. “We’re both going to get through this. Shitty odds and injuries be damned.” He glanced over at his companion. “You’re sure you’ve got the key?”
“Ah-yeah-” Mark replied, pulling the key from his pocket and holding it up. Cracking a tiny smile again in spite of everything, he added, “C’mon, you know I wouldn’t lose it.”
“I would kill you if you lost it,” Jack huffed, putting his fingers on the lock. Sucking in a deep breath, he glanced back at Mark. “Are you ready? You’re sure you don’t need my help, uhm-hobbling or anything?”
“Yeah, no, I got it, don’t worry,” Mark replied. “I managed to get over here pretty decently enough. I think I can make it just down the hall.”
“If we can make it there quietly enough, maybe we won’t even have to run too much at all,” Jack noted softly.
“I’m not trusting our luck enough for that to happen,” Mark replied in a matching tone that was laced with weariness. “Let’s just run and hope for the best.”
“Alright. Are you ready?” Jack questioned, and as he did he could gradually feel the nerves creeping in more and more, the adrenaline already starting to rush through his veins.
“Yeah, Jack, just open the damn door already,” Mark replied, the annoyance in his tone more mocking than anything.
Jack nodded and twisted the lock, yanking the door open. Before Mark could stop him, the Irishman took a step out and peered around, then looked back at Mark. “It’s clear!” he whispered. “Go! Go!”
Mark didn’t even hesitate as he ran forward, slowed just slightly by his limp but the adrenaline clearly kicking in with him as well. He went pretty quickly for a guy with a freshly-injured leg, although Jack was already caught up to him as they rushed down the hall.
Past the library, past the staircase, turn left and there’s the door. The front door which they’d made so many attempts to bust down or unlock. That whole commotion which drew the thing to them that one time, when they lost Tyler and Ethan in the process of running away-
Oh god, try not to think about it.
Mark pulled the key from his pocket and jammed it into the lock, and both men held their breath, daring to hope against hope that this was it, this was the one. The key twisted and they heard a click. The two exchanged a look with wide eyes.
“Was that it?” Jack whispered, an edge of hope and excitement daring to creep into his voice for the first time in what felt like centuries.
Mark nodded and reached forward, grabbing the handle. It twisted, the door pulled open slightly with an old, unused creak-
Wait.
Why were they hearing two of that sound?
Slowly Jack turned to look at the staircase-
The thing was rushing straight towards them. Alien-esque, long-necked, gray-skinned, eyes large and almond-shaped and colored a downright soulless black.
This was the thing that had killed their friends.
And now it was coming for them.
Before he could react, fingers suddenly wrapped around his arm and yanked him back hard, released, and before he knew what was happening he was stumbling, staggering but breathing fresh air, heavy raindrops pounding down upon his skin like cold bullets. He looked around wildly, trying to get a bearing on what the hell just happened, but then he got a look at the doorway-
Just in time to see Mark’s face staring back at him, Mark's other hand gripping the partially-open door.
Time seemed to hang frozen in the air for what stretched on into forever as Jack could feel his blood turn to ice, unable to will himself to move from the shock and terror. “Mark…” Jack whispered, only managing to take the tiniest step forward. Mark tried giving him the tiniest of relieved smiles in return, but it was one that was shaky and hopeless, terrified and worn.
And then suddenly, as fingers burst from his chest and blossomed outward, that smile was dripping with blood.
Everything suddenly seemed to slam back into real time at that moment, faster it seemed, as Jack reached out for him and lunged forward. “MARK!” he screamed, but the older man was dragged back inside with the door slamming in the Irishman’s face, Jack’s fingertips just grazing the wood.
“No… Nononononononono-” Jack pleaded, grabbing the handle of the door in a desperate attempt to push it open again. Nothing, the damned thing was locked-!
“Goddammit! Mark!” Crunch! Crash! Crack! The noises on the other side of the door were accompanied with horrific-sounding grunts and screaming that would’ve made him cringe had he heard it just over headphones from a character, nevermind from one of his good friends in real life. “No...!”
Something bright caught his eye, something that stood out in sharp contrast to the cobblestone doorstep and made him cease his attempts to get back inside, body freezing up. He stared at the crimson that seeped out from beneath the door, shaking. He couldn’t hear anything on the other side anymore. The torrent of rain drowned anything else out now, aside from his own panicked, ragged breathing.
Seeing the blood beginning to flow around and stain his own sneakers, he staggered back and stared back up at the mansion, still tightly gripping the book under one arm and shaking violently in shock as tears stung at his blue eyes and panic began to overwhelm him.
“MARK!”