i misgendered them accidentally im so sorry

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“Oohh shit,” you mumbled to nobody in particular, one hand clutching your arm, the other splayed dramatically against the ground like you were in a telenovela.

You’d barely escaped 1x—if you could call face-planting into the ground and rolling down a ledge “escaping.” But hey, you were alive. Bleeding, gasping, and probably concussed, but alive.

You lay there wheezing, staring up at the sky like it had answers. It didn’t.

You turned your head slightly, ready to accept death with all the dignity of a soggy paper towel.

And then—THWAP—Two Time came out of nowhere. Like. NOWHERE.

You blinked.

No warning. No cool catchphrase. They just sprinted in, pulled out his dagger like some Dollar Tree vigilante, leapt dramatically—and—

MISSED.

THEY.

THEY MISSED.

Not grazed. Not slipped. He just whiffed it. Full stab motion into thin air. Like the killer had suddenly turned into a ghost. Or like they'd never aimed in the first place.

There was a full three seconds of silence.

You stared.

1x stared.

Not even the killer looked interested in killing anymore. He just tilted his head, mildly offended, and slowly backed away like he was the one in danger.

“…Dude,” you said, voice cracking from a mix of pain and utter disbelief. “What the hell was that?”

“…That wasn’t me,” Two Time replied, dead serious.

“YES IT WAS??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN??”

“I think you’re imagining things,” They said, like they were gaslighting you with confidence. “Could be the blood loss. Hallucinations are very common under stress.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, flopping back to the dirt. “You’re worse than the killer. At least he shows up and tries.”

“I did try,” Two Time added defensively.

“No, you performed a dramatic flourish and then assaulted the concept of aim itself.”

“…I was testing his reflexes.”

“WHAT REFLEXES?! HE DIDN’T EVEN MOVE!”

Death would’ve been less humiliating.