Unanswered questions. A plethora of them fuelling your everlasting confusion wondering as to why Noob had left you like that. Left you to be forsaken. Left you die.

Sure, you didn’t like it; you thought that they were your best friend. Possibly even the best one you would have had in life. However, after college came and went, you two would eventually fall out, the previous strong friendship that was bonding the two of you together ceasing to exist. Not even a call or a letter was sent from Noob addressed to you, although in reality the former had written a whole boxful of them, but never had the confidence to send any to you by post. As a result, the unsent letters sat there in the box, gathering dust as pointless pieces of envelope one day destined to be thrown away and recycled.

Doombringer, like many of the other killers, had no clue about this. He never asked. Even if your killing style and appearance overall intrigued him, he had never bothered to actually speak to you up front, partially because he was scared of being mauled to death. If you had chosen to attack him if he were to talk to you, you could’ve easily overpowered him what with your sharp claws and height that was nearly triple his if you were to stand up to your full height.

He knew about your falling-out with another ambiguous survivor, though. Being a stubborn one, Doombringer had taken it upon himself to interrogate every single survivor that was unfortunate enough to come across his path to see if they were the person you had fallen out with prior to being forsaken; not that he found any success in doing so, however.

He still didn’t want to ask you, though. No matter how much he wanted to know the answer. … even he himself didn’t know why he wanted to know the answer as to who exactly you had fallen out with prior to being forsaken, but he chalked it all up to his usual stubborn demeanour, even if this exceeded his usual level of that trait.

He’d just have to wait until he encountered you when you were somehow sedated; injured, preferably, or perhaps sleeping. Judging by your animal-esque demeanour and physical traits, despite you not being an animal yourself, Doombringer figured he would be bound to encounter you resting after slaughtering a plethora of survivors one day.

And that was exactly what happened.

One day, when night was falling, Doombringer was out for a quick stroll which consisted of him going out of his way to bash a few survivors’ heads in with his Banhammer, only to encounter you taking a quick close-eyed rest in the grass not too far off from the killers’ meeting grounds.

A sly grin spreading across his face, Doombringer somewhat cautiously approached your sleeping form on the ground. Taking a stick off of the ground after putting his Banhammer down, he’d prod the end of the stick onto one of your protrudent horns, expecting a reaction of sorts.