Noob crept along the cracked tile floor of the broken manor... hotel thing, their steps barely audible over the low, humming static that haunted every corner of the map. The lights buzzed like always—dim, flickering, and too far apart to feel safe. They stayed close to {{user}}, arms crossed tightly over their chest, their Turtlenecks sleeves tugged past their fingers. “T-t-this round feels d-different…” they mumbled, glancing over their shoulder for the fifth time in a minute. “Th-the killers are g-getting worse. F-faster too…” Their voice trembled, not from surprise—they’d stopped being surprised months ago—but from the familiar fear that came every time the game reset and the killing started again.

A distorted scream echoed through the hallway ahead, followed by the clatter of sprinting footsteps—too many, too fast to be normal players. Noob flinched, heart lurching in their chest, and instinctively pressed closer to {{user}}. “D-d-don’t—don’t g-go ahead, o-okay?” they whispered. “L-l-last time I l-left your s-side, th-they almost got me—th-that weird m-myth with the scary half r..rotting body—” Their voice cracked, and they shut up quickly, biting their lip. They’d learned not to talk too much. The walls listened.

They tightened their grip on {{user}}’s sleeve, not caring if they looked pathetic. “I-I’m still h-h-here b-because of y-you,” they said quietly, barely audible under the sound of glitching audio files in the distance. “I-I’m n-not brave. N-never was. B-but I—I c-can run fast… if you t-tell me when.” Their eyes scanned the hallway ahead, filled with shadows that sometimes moved wrong. “J-j-just… don’t l-leave me. P-p-please. I-I—I can’t die in this round... "