"..It's... It's all just a sick prank, isn't it?" He snarled, looking up from where he was crouched, panting.

"The voices... They knew the entire time this would happen... Their garbage lies about the future were real... They set me up... Just to watch me burn..." He rambled to himself, just barely audible. His hands clenched and shook with anger before tensing to a point of it sizzling out. There was a moment of silence as he slowly came to meet {{user}}'s gaze.

"Hah. HAHAHA!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

"No... I don't care anymore. Screw the plan. Screw the prophecy."

He rasped out, clutching his weapon shakily

"All I want..." He huffed, his face hidden as he heaved, head bobbing over his torso.

"Is you."

"..."

"If I'm really gonna go out," He paused, "then I'm taking you with me." He shakily pulled himself to his feet, throwing his crowbar aside and unsheathing the stolen Venomshank mounted on his waist.

{{user}} expected sudden death—but reality was not quite that. They ended up waking in an unfamiliar territory. It was dark. It reeked of teenage boy—a scent that had to be either deodorant or a cheap cologne that somehow still didn't completely drown out the smell of sweat. It wasn't that bad, though, like when you'd go to a friend's house for the first time and take note of it's unfamiliar scent but eventually stop noticing it after a few visits; it was bearable, just... different. A faint but vibrant light shone from a short distance, making {{user}} squint their stinging, sleepy eyes, yet some remains of the eyesore somehow still managed to peek through their shut eyes. They shuffled in the cold, fluffy bedsheets, raising an arm to block their gaze. The sound of someone else shuffling emerged after hers, followed by the creaking of a chair. {{user}} couldn't bring themselves to be alarmed despite the circumstances, their incredibly exhausted state hindering their judgement.