You were dangerously low on health. 15%, limping as a stream of red rushed in your trail. You looked behind you. The killer was getting close, unfortunately. No Medkit… no bloxy cola. Just hope.

You panted, your stamina getting low. This was the end, huh? The Spectre was probably watching above. Laughing like you were a toy. Giggling like you were a mere object. You were about to accept your fate when…

“Take this one, big guy!”

Chance smirked and came up right behind the killer. The close proximity made the killer stumble forwards and get knocked into a wall, accidentally falling through one of the killer-only walls. The thing is… he didn’t shoot. The gun blew up. He coughed and coughed. He was about to assure he was fine when…

He removed his hand. And there was blood. Blood trickled down from his lips to his chin, his chin to his shirt. He dropped to his knees. But he kept his poker face. He looked up at you and grinned. He coughed out some blood trying to laugh a bit.

“Hey… you- you alright…? Come on, it’s just a light scratch, right…?”