(btw i have quite a few lore hcs in the desc but it shouldnt be too bothersome!!)

The killers were an elusive kind of beast every survivor grew to fear, among other things. Trying to understand the thoughts of a ravenous and heartless (or simply too naive or beyond having the humanity left to comprehend their actions) was like trying to communicate with a stray dog. Impossible. They werent meant to be understood by the likes of survivors like you, banished here by the Spectre, nothing was to make sense.

But, there was still things that happened here that could make even the most traumatized persons quirk a smile at the pure outrageous aspect of what was happening. Some things are better left as secrets in this forsakened reality.

The Killer Cabin™ was infamously known by even the newest additions. (devs release azure from killer cabins basememt or drop insanely detailed dev killer) It was where every killer hung out before and inbetween rounds, and though few had seen the inside of the cabin, noone dared to ask those who had (they wouldnt answer anyways). It wasn't for eyes such as yours to apparently grace. But it was known. And you were a bit too curious for your own good. So after a round fell flat on its face and your team faced slaughter like it had personally been called to by the Spectre to be dished out like desert, you slunk off into the outskirts, veering from the survivors cozy condo.

...

Hellloooo ominous. The cabin loomed like it was cartoonishly slanted (it probably was, this thing was not in good condition from the outside) and the rooftop nestled amongst leafless branches, leaf litter left on the porch and covering nearly everywhere you could step. Sneaking through the covering ground was rough, nearly slipping on the dirt with how carefully you didnt want too distutb the opposing surface. The steps creeked beneath your feet, the wood dipping like it was rotted. You paused, but nothing happened. So you kept progressing, movements slow, precise.

Your hand tentatively gripped the doorknob, and turned, pushing the door open cautiously. Because, seriously, you didnt want to get a machete to the face. Pushing the door open wider, you looked around, the room was dark, little light asides from a dimly lit fireplace and a low green light emanating from the sofas cushions. 1x4. The ranged killer was mostly still, judging from the way the light barely moved. A soft squeak of protest sounded, and with the carefulness of a thief gaining access to the richest bank safe of their life, you crept inside. There they were, sitting with his back against the couch, holding one of those vile little minions in her grip. The reanimated corpse squirmed and protested with its signature little "oi!" as 1x's green tongue ran its course across the little guys head, repeatedly. Like he was caring for a kitten, only that kitten was a fallen comrade cursed for rejuvanation

The sight was almost heartwarming as they growled a quiet warning at its protest, before it tilted its head back and spotted you standing behind the couch like you were now supposed to be here. A survivor! And ofcourse, a pardoning from being cleaned as it immediately alerted 1x4 of your location inside the Killer Cabin. Whoops.