Chapter Text
It was only the start of the round, and it was already going so horribly wrong.
It was taking place at Horror Hotel—John Doe’s most advantageous map, and also Dusekkar’s weakest. The entire game, he’d had one target in mind: Two Time. He’d tried to use his Corrupt Energy to trap a vulnerable Noob doing the generator in the synthwave room, only for this move to be thwarted by the cultist’s swift backstab. This had enraged John Doe, and for the past ten minutes, they were stuck in a constant loop around the outdoor area.
Builderman and Elliot both did their part in helping Two Time—Builderman with his sentry serving as a constant distraction for the killer, and Elliot saving them several times with his pizzas. Dusekkar, however, seemed to be completely redundant. He’d fired two Plasma Beams, both of them hitting the other supports instead of the right targets, and he’d completely mistimed his Spawn Protections. As much as he despised Two Time, it was still his duty to protect all survivors—or else, he would be considered useless. Just like now.
More importantly, he knew that as soon as Two Time was dead, the killer would go for him next.
John Doe had now trapped Two Time in a corner, stomping on the ground to create a Digital Footprint so they couldn’t get away. The cultist cowered in fear as they were about to be torn in half and forced to turn to their second life. He clawed at them with his corrupted arm while they couldn’t do anything to defend themself.
Dusekkar thought of spells he could use to save them. Both Spawn Protection and Plasma Beam were on cooldown, so perhaps an offensive spell? Blood Leech would be perfect here—it would be able to take John Doe out of action for at least a couple of minutes until he recovered. The pumpkin instinctively began manoeuvring his staff in order to cast a spell he’d used so many times that it was engrained in his muscle memory... but after a couple of moves, a sharp pain spread across both of his arms, and all of his muscles froze still. Dusekkar winced from the sensation and dropped his staff with a thud, all the while Two Time was fighting for their life.
Builderman had been watching the pumpkin doing those inexplicable movements, completely bewildered. He noticed Dusekkar’s frown as he was picking up his staff. A frown filled with grief.
“Ya doin’ good?” the fellow admin asked. Whether it was out of genuine concern or out of confusion, the mage wasn’t sure.
“I am not the one who matters here. About my sanity, do not fear. This world has already made me less of a deer.”
As he finished his words, he started floating back to the corridor in order to fix the generator there. Builderman was left even more confused by his cryptic rhymes; he’d been noticeably speaking in riddles a lot more. It was always hard to gauge how he really felt, but he kept insisting there was nothing wrong.
However, there was something wrong. As Dusekkar tried his best to connect the wires properly, he couldn’t help but mourn all of the power he’d lost. He’d learned hundreds of spells over the course of his life; he was one of the most powerful people in all of Robloxia—and now, his arsenal had been limited to two simple spells, neither of which he was that familiar with. Magic had used to be his passion—he loved experimenting with different combinations of spells and even trying to invent new ones; he was known as a pioneer in the niche world of mages. Now, he had been reduced to nothing but someone on the sidelines.
He was worthless. The other supports always provided some value to the team no matter what, while he didn’t even know how to use his only two spells properly.
Goddammit, those three wires got tangled! He wasn’t even able to fix the generators quickly enough.
The only thing he did was keep going back to the few magic tomes and textbooks about Robloxia’s geography that the Spectre had left the survivors, in an attempt to figure out ways to break out of this realm. He would try to brainstorm solutions and connect the dots while everybody else slept, but so far he hadn’t figured out much. There were plenty of possibilities floating around his mind, but he couldn’t muster any concrete solution.
The harder he tried to think, the more his head started hurting and the more exhausted he became. Perhaps the Spectre was physically preventing him from reaching a solution, similarly to how he physically couldn’t cast spells.
Just how did Dusekkar bring any value to the other survivors? They barely even paid him any mind unless they wanted something out of him. Taph was the only person who let the pumpkin complain to him and talk about his feelings, but even he seemed to get tired of him sometimes. The demolitionist only paid him any mind because he, too, would tend to be neglected and misunderstood.
But at least Taph hadn’t lost anything. At least Taph knew what he was doing.
The envy Dusekkar felt of him, as well as the two other admins, was palpable. They didn’t suffer nearly as much as he did, he thought. They were able to get adjusted to it all, while only he couldn’t move on from the past.
An angelic chime could be heard from the other room. Then, frantic footsteps. The mage didn’t need to look away to know that Two Time had just respawned, as expected. The noise of John Doe stomping on the ground carried through the air—he was likely trying to hit the newly respawned backstabber with Corrupt Energy. Spikes started rapidly rising from the ground—but something seemed wrong: Dusekkar could hear them coming closer and closer.
Before he could get off the generator, a black spike impaled him from below, tearing his stomach open.
Why was he going for him!? He hadn’t even done anything the entire game! But as it stands, killers would often pick him out, knowing he couldn’t defend himself.
Dusekkar found himself in a gap between the wall and the spikes, leaving him with only one narrow pathway out. However, there was something standing in front of him, blocking the way. A creature towering over him, a creature manipulated to kill him. John Doe’s chilling, artificial smile was enough to send chills down his spine.
Just like how he hadn’t been around to help Two Time, nobody was around to help him either. He deserved this fate, he thought. As he clutched his fresh wound and tried his best to shield himself from John Doe’s relentless clawing—but in the end, it was no use.
Right as it all seemed hopeless, he spotted a figure sneaking up behind the killer. A dagger stabbed John Doe from the back, which made him freeze up from the pain.
Two Time?
Dusekkar used this small window of opportunity to slip past the corrupted man, making his way out of the trap. Unexpectedly, the cultist grabbed him by the hand and started running with him. They weren’t the strongest, but since the pumpkin was already floating in the air, he felt as light as a feather.
The feel of their cold, dry hand gripping him made him shudder. He tried to make them let go, but they wouldn’t budge. His deer tail unconsciously swayed left and right, reflecting how apprehensive he felt.
“If you could please let me be. Where are you taking me?”
“One is leading thee to a place of safety and tranquillity. Come forthe, for thy wounds shall healeth.”
So they were giving him a taste of his own medicine. How quaint. He sighed.
Right as they were turning a corner, Dusekkar turned around and saw John Doe back on his feet, preparing to launch another Corrupt Energy at the two of them. However, as soon as he stomped on the ground, a bullet struck him from the other side and stunned him, allowing them to escape.
Thank you, Chance.
In the end, Two Time led the mage to the ball pit on the other side of the map. Builderman’s dispenser stood there, and that’s also where Taph had concentrated all of his traps. Dusekkar sat against the wall in order to slowly recover his wounds. The cultist wasn’t hurt, but they still sat next to him. Their bony spawn wings quivered ever so slightly. Just looking at any of Two Time’s spawn insignias made Dusekkar sick in the stomach.
Quick footsteps were approaching. Dusekkar felt the urge to stand up and run away, but when he was about to do that, the backstabber grabbed him by the wrist to stop him.
Taph entered the ball pit—that sound had been coming from him. The pumpkin sighed in relief. Recently, he had been even more paranoid than usual.
As soon as the demolitionist noticed his condition, he ran to him and kneeled down to look at his injuries. One didn’t even have to see his face to know how worried he was.
Dusekkar, are you okay? Is there any way I can help?
“Don’t keep your worries unfrosted. I am simply exhausted.”
The admin slouched back where he was sitting on the plastic balls. He could feel his consciousness slowly slipping away. Was he really that tired?
“Thou should beest sitting here not, divine pumpkin. Thou must spendest the next rounds at thy cabine!” Two Time remarked sharply.
Their unnerving smile was still plastered on their face, but it didn’t match the crazed look in their eyes. Their left eye’s iris was white and their right eye’s was black; that asymmetry in their gaze always made Dusekkar feel a little on edge, but now he was especially disturbed.
He stood up and took a step towards Taph in order to get away from the cultist, but he tripped and quickly lost balance. The demolitionist caught him in his arms.
“What... is happening...?”
He was about to pass out from how exhausted he was. Taph embraced him with his soft white wings to try to make him feel some comfort. Soon enough, he felt a certain wetness on his shoulder. The pumpkin had started sobbing quietly.
He was crying.
A being made of fire was crying.
Dusekkar hadn’t even realised his tear glands had filled to the brim. All of his emotions had come to a head, and he’d chosen the worst time possible to let it all out: in the middle of a match, right in front of that degenerate cultist.
But as much as he tried to stop himself, he couldn’t. He hadn’t cried once since he had been forsaken; this was the result of eons of pent-up emotions. Taph rubbed him on the back and tried his best to make him feel better. If not through words, all he could do was offer him as much comfort as possible.
However, it was hardly working.
“I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry...”
Dusekkar’s entire body was shaking. His cerulean, white-spotted tail was hanging low. Amidst his sobs, he could only mutter quiet apologies like a broken record, while Taph didn’t know how he could possibly console him. The pumpkin was apologising not only for how useless he was as a support, but also for how he was forcing the hooded person to see him like this.
Two Time simply looked at the two of them, with that same nondescript smile. As much as they wanted to chip in, as much as they wanted to convince him that he really wasn’t useless, they knew that they would be shut down immediately. They felt a great sadness, knowing that there was nothing they could do to help him.
Even though Taph was one of the few people they were close to, they felt a certain wave of resentment toward him. He wasn’t doing a good enough job making him feel better. If only they had been the one embracing him and not the demolitionist; by now, he would’ve calmed down.
Wanting to distract themself, Two Time stood up and peeked out of the ball pit. They saw John Doe chasing Chance in the play area, while Guest 1337 was desperately trying to get in the way to protect the gambler. The cultist didn’t want to be labelled as a useless sentinel again, so they ran off to the frontlines.
Eventually, Dusekkar passed out in Taph’s arms, but the demolitionist didn’t let go of him. In the end, they stayed like this until the match ended.
The only casualty was Two Time.