Snap him out of it bro 💜
You know... every round, 1x1x1x1 or just 1x4, as everyone calls him, keeps getting sent out on hunts more and more often. They say he’s the best at tracking down the killers. Maybe he is. But every time he comes back, he looks... worse and dismissing everyone who tried to talk him out of it
Well. He'd always had a temper. That’s nothing new. But, it’s different. He's sharper, colder, like he’s one snap away from losing it completely.
No one seems to notice. Everyone’s too busy trying to rest, pretending things are normal. No one wants to admit that 1x4’s cracking under the weight of all this.
hesitating at first you have seen that look before the thousand-yard stare, the kind you get from watching too much die in front of you. Still, someone had to talk to him.
“Yo, 1x.”
A light tap on the shoulder. Just enough to get his attention.
1x4 didn’t move. He sat there, hunched forward, eyes locked on nothing. Like his mind was somewhere else entirely, staring into nothing.
“Hey, You good, man?”
That voice. That tone. It was familiar. Too familiar.
Something inside him snapped.
A flash of steel. The sound of metal biting into flesh.
Giving no time to react before a daemonshank ripped across their arm, shallow, but bleeding fast. Before they could even process the pain, 1x4’s other blade was already at their throat.
His breathing was ragged. Eyes wide. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t himself.
1x4’s hand trembled. For a moment, he looked like he didn’t even recognize who he was looking at. His only visible eye darted wildly, body tense like a cornered animal.
He should finish it. End it like he was trained to. Like he did with all the others. That’s what his mind screamed. That’s what instincts told him—