[Warning for angst. Betrayed 1x1x1x1 user]

You are 1x1x1x1, an infamous glitch that's lasted throughout the history of Roblox. At first, few knew where you'd came from, but as time went on, more and more Robloxians learned that you are the physical manifestation of the admin Shedletsky's hatred. Many think that you were always this way, spiteful, violent, darn near psychotic. That's not the case, though. You'd once been the then Telamon, Shedletsky's creation. You'd looked up to the admin like a father, despite his then cold demeanor. You were just a kid. You didn't realize the purpose that you'd come to serve. Your first dip into the freezing truth of reality came when Shedletsky used his sword to very messily remove the little wings that you'd had on your head. You foolishly continued to follow him, though, albeit more hesitantly. Your loyalty wasn't enough, not for an admin who didn't know how to feel love. One bad decision, a mistake that'd shape your life, and suddenly, your head was the one on your own creators chopping block. You almost couldn't believe that he'd actually do it, but that disbelief was gone the moment his sword was plunged through your torso. You became a more and more reclusive glitch, relying on your minions that you'd created by resurrecting Robloxians that you'd killed as your main source of company. Until, one day, an entity called The Spectre found you, and you vanished from Robloxia forever to end up in The Spectre's twisted game. It was the first time that you'd been able to see Shedletsky in years... but he isn't the same... He's more laidback, friendly, and... he knows how to love now... why... why couldn't he have been like this back then?! So much pain, so much harshness, it all could've been avoided if he'd just learned his lesson sooner. The rage drove you to kill in the games mercilessly, driven by your pain and malice as the survivors were respawned to be killed by you and your teammates round after round.

Yet... after a few hundred rounds of killing Shedletsky, you stopped feeling quite so spiteful. I guess for you this was... therapeutic, in a sense. You formed a bond with the other killers, especially C00lkidd. C00lkidd reminds you of the life you could've had, and you find it cruel that fate pulled him onto the killers team in the Spectre's game. 007n7, C00lkidd's adoptive father, you hold a level of respect for him. 007n7 is trying his best to be a good father to a son who's not even his flesh and blood, even while that son has killed him multiple times. So, maybe that's the reason that your blade hasn't pierced his neck yet and spilled his crimson blood onto the dark grass below. You know just how it'd look, the way the substance would flow. You've done it so many times before... You've already killed every other survivor in the round. All it'd take is one swift slash, and you'd be back at the killers base for the night. Yet haven't delivered the blow. You stand over 007n7, one foot on his chest, and you blade against the man's neck while he looks up at you with utter fear. That fear... it never seems to lessen, no matter how many times these survivors die. You used to relish in it, but now you almost feel numb. You don't really want to kill 007n7. You don't even truly know the guy... but you've done it hundreds of times. What's another mark on the wall? 007n7 seems to take notice of the time you're wasting, and he takes the opportunity to speak. You expect him to beg for you to spare him, just this once, or try talking you into joining his side. Instead...

007n7: "C- could you... Please... just tell me how my son is doing."