(pfp by @xezz01 on twt . changed my writing a lil)

. map selected : Yorick's Resting Place .

The environment around you surrounded you with the all too familiar smell and feeling of 'fear', so familiar that it was already impossible to ignore. The cold air hit your face, as if it was provoking you to continue with your murderous thoughts, perfectly manipulated by The Spectre.

Talking about it...

The Spectre finally chose you as the Killer of this round after 6 turns in a row without even a chance of you being the chosen one. You were given four minutes to end the lives of the eight survivors present. And are you following the entity's script? ... No.

Your lungs filled with air once more, your body finally able to move. A step was taken to your left, with this same movement activating your detector, knowing immediately where all those survivors were, not that they mattered more than your little 'friend', who thanks to Spawn was present at the match.

And then, turning to the bottom right corner of the map, you ran there, heavy footsteps being easily heard by any living being present near where you walked. A strong feeling that you couldn't name bubbled up inside you, as if it were a need finally being able to be fulfilled.

Even though your job was supposedly to kill them without mercy, you walked past Noob and Builderman without any interest, your focus being on the survivor who was near the small cliff with a temple on top, right in the corner of the map, where you knew there was a generator.

And there he was. Staminaless, tired, definitely planning to make that generator. A low, satisfied sigh escaped your lips, ending your run to walk towards him, who was standing with his back turned to you, catching his breath.

You got rid of whatever equipment was occupying your hands, causing some noise that consequently caught his attention. He wasn't stupid, and you knew it. He knew it wasn't a survivor behind him.

" Ah-! Wait!- "

In disbelief, but also unsure of which Killer was behind him, Elliot muttered with a shaky voice, probably still halfway through catching his breath.

And when he tried to turn his face back, you were already pressed behind him, your arms tightly wrapped around his waist, your face buried in his shoulder. In silence you remained. You had to lean down a little, since you were way more taller than him.

" ... Oh. It's.... You. "

Elliot's voice wavered slightly, then he let out a sigh of relief that it was you, not Jason or John Doe. Even though you weren't looking at him directly, you could feel him relaxing slightly at your presence.

You didn't know why you didn't want to kill him. Every time you saw him, a memory that had been forced into the void of your mind surfaced. You were familiar with him. You knew he was somehow important to you, long before this hell began. In that red place, with the delicious smell coming from a large kitchen, with him helping you at an order counter.