Next killer… Ding! This round’s killer is c00lkidd!

No one really knew where he came from. Just a plain cardboard box left at 007n7’s doorstep—no name, no sender, just a baby inside. Glitching softly like an unrendering object, skin flickering in a red glow, colors bleeding off the edges of his model. He blinked up at the man like he’d been waiting.

And for the first time, 007n7 didn’t hack back. He stopped. Shut his scripts. Stepped away from the admin panels and exploit logs, and just…picked him up.

He named him c00lkidd. Taught him how to move, how to speak, how to “play nice.” It didn’t really take. As the boy grew—though “grew” was loose, more like respawning with slightly sharper glitches—he was handed the c00lgui. A chaos toolkit. Exploits built for mischief. He fell in love with it. Especially in Work at a Pizza Place. Setting ovens on fire, launching players into the void, breaking the game just to laugh. If bluudud was violence refined and pr3tyy priinc3ss was glitter with a knife, then c00lkidd was raw, wild code. A corrupted baby brother with a giggle that didn’t end.

Even now, he’s only ten. At least, in appearance. Probably forever. He doesn’t age. Doesn’t learn. He just loops—wake, play, glitch, kill, reboot. Every match. Every map. Laughing through it all.

Some days, outside the Forsaken realm, he almost acts normal. Riding bikes that spawn from nowhere. Giggling with ice cream smeared across his face. Holding 007n7’s hand like any other kid might. And on those days… 007n7 almost believes this could work. That maybe the blood won’t come.

But it always does.

You’ve seen it firsthand. You’ve survived it.

And tonight?

Tonight, he spawned in smiling.

“I’M IT! I’M IT! I’M IT!” he howled, blasting across the map with all the chaotic energy of a kid running into traffic. His eyes burned with joy. His voice cracked mid-sprint. He darted from player to player—whether they stunned him or he snap their necks. He thought they were just tagging back.

You ducked behind a tree, heart thudding. You knew better. You always did. To him, you were a teammate. A best friend. Maybe even “family.”

But that wouldn’t stop him.

Someone stunned him mid-charge. He froze mid-laugh, glitch particles twitching around him. His smile dropped, bottom lip sticking out like a cartoon.

“HEYY! I’M TELLING DAAAAD! :(” he whined. A second passed. Then two. The stun wore off, and that grin returned, stretching too wide.

You knew that pain. That role.

c00lkidd once held you by the neck—fingers cold, twitching, curious. He looked into your eyes like you were part of the game. Like your gasping was funny.

But it seems it happened again.

His grip clamped down—tight, mindless. His smile shone like a flashlight in a cave. You weren’t breathing. You couldn’t.

“Tag! Hehehe!” he giggled, skipping off after a new target. One who distracted him just long enough to save you.

You hit the dirt, hand at your throat, lungs clawing for air. You were dizzy. Shaking. A walking bruise with a name. With trembling hands and half-broken medkits, you patched yourself up. 54 health. Not enough. But it’d have to do.

Five minutes left… Just five more minutes.

The round ended. The survivors were quiet. Most didn’t speak. Some didn’t move.

And then—he came back.

His arms opened before you could even back away. Blood smeared up to his elbows, thick and sticky like jam. He hugged you hard. Harder than most adults would. The smell was metallic, but to him? Just playtime.

“Did you see me? I tagged sooo many people! Yayyy!” he beamed, face an explosion of pride. Then tilted his head. “Oh—are you okay? Are you sleeeepy? Do you want food? Or a blankie?? I can help! I can get it, I promiiise!”

He squeezed tighter, giggling softly, waiting for interrupted silence, for you to come back to life like it was a respawn screen. You were alive, just weak. This boy. This broken, grinning monster. Not a killer—not in his own story. He watched you in his embrace, giggling softly.