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Bear-Traps and Crows

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His heart hammered in his head. It felt like a drum was drowning out the swift boot falls of his pursuer. The only reason Dwight knew he was close to being caught was the flood of red light drenching his back. Trapper grabbed a hold of his shirt and yanked him back. Dwight screamed, writhing on the forest floor as Trapper pressed a knee to his chest and raised a cleaver. 

Dwight screamed again, louder and more desperate. He didn’t want to go through any more pain. He’d been here for what felt like forever. Alone, always running and dying and waking up just to start running among the endless trees again. 

But this time, the cleaver sank into the ground by his head, not ‘ in’ it. Dwight’s breath hitched, screaming stalled, when Trapper’s rough fingers grabbed his chin. His face was turned to and for aggressively. His glasses tumbled off into the grass. Dwight instinctively tried to grab them, but Trapper pinned his wrists into the wet earth. 

Dwight breathed heavily, staring at the terrifying mask that was layered in his old blood. He’d never seen Trapper this close. This long. This… not in pain. Dwight could only stutter on his breath as Trapper’s hand idly fondled his face. His glasses were picked up and slipped back onto his nose. One of the lenses had cracked. 

“W-what a-are y-y-y-” Dwight couldn’t even finish his question. The cleaver was thrust out of the ground and a thick arm curled around Dwight’s back. He yelped as he was hefted up and over Trapper’s shoulder. 

“No! L-let me go! What are you doing!?” Dwight shrieked. He kicked and thrashed. The iron grip on his middle was like steel though. 

“Taking my reward.”

Dwight was carried into the thickening fog, the first survivor completely bewildered why he wasn't yet dead. 

Chapter Text

“Oh, oh shit!” Meg screamed, falling from the roof’s edge and hitting the ground in a stumble. 

The killer ran after her with a gnarly groan of anger. The wraith lost the runner among the trees. It thrashed its weapon against rocks and uprooting weeds, as if Meg might flee frightfully from the clamor. She, however, was smirking as she stealthily crept towards one of the last two generators. Quentin and Laurie were already there. Nea must have been across the map, judging by the sudden angry cry of the wraith. Meg ignored it and finished her last skillcheck. The gen lit up in a glow of gold. 

“Alright! Just one more to go,” Meg cheered, high-fiving with Quentin. The three dashed off to hide from the approaching killer. 

“We’ll be out of here without a single hook,” Laurie added. 

She was usually stead-fast and one-minded during a trial, but the easy run had left her a bit giddy. The survivors had been getting incredibly good at… well, surviving. And this trial was just one of many successes. Laurie led them to the last gen. Across the map, Nea kept juking the killer, leading him in circles and over pallets until they heard his frustrated bellow every few minutes. 

The gen lit up, the exit gates along with it, and the four survivors escaped without a single hook. They cheered and clapped as they ran into the open forest. The wraith screamed behind them, but their cheering outweighed the foreboding feeling those sounds caused. The four didn’t stop smiling until they saw the glow of the fire. 

Jake, Claudette and David had stood up to greet them. They were clearly confused about the whooping and hollering, but joined along once they learned that the others played a perfect game. 

“Nea was so fast!” Meg gushed. “She kept that loser stumbling over his feet until we got all the gens!” 

“Says the girl who kept that fucker running around a boulder for two minutes,” Nea said, grabbing Meg by the neck and roughing up her french braids. “We’ve been killing it!” 

“No, we’ve been surviving it,” Quentin added. “I haven’t been killed in what feels like ages.”

“The Entity should be giving us better rewards,” Jake said, turning the rabbit he’d been cooking over the fire. 

It was a gift for doing so well. One they had to hunt themselves, but a gift nonetheless. The Entity fed off both the pain of its survivors and the fierce frustration of its killers. Judging by how frustrated the wraith must have been today, Jake was not surprised to see the rustle of small game shivering around their site. Berries and other edible plants had begun to grow too. Claudette had been having a field day discovering their properties. 

But… with good things, came bad things. The familiar tug of his chest gave Jake a moment’s notice of another trial. 

“So soon?” He heard Meg ask, and he was a bit shocked to see that she too was being pulled into the game. 

It was unlike a survivor to play back to back. They didn’t let it frighten them, though, and Jake gave Meg a firm nod before his vision went black. When he opened his eyes, he was in the MacMillan Estate.

Chapter Text

The crows hushed themselves as Jake bolted around a rock and hid. The large birds keenly looked to their human friend before taking off in flight. Jake watched them as black specks in the sky, and the distant caws he heard alerted him to the killer’s location. 

Jake never liked going against the Trapper. His crows could tell him where the beast of a man was, but his bear traps were easy to miss. Jake stumbled as he nearly stepped into one, heading toward the distant sound of a gen being worked on. He found Meg there. She put a finger to her lips and pointed towards the large manor nearby. Jake could see the flood of red through the windows. David’s figure was rushing through the halls. 

Taking the distraction, as close as it was to them, Meg and Jake tried to finish the gen. They were so close to finishing, that Jake almost missed the growing beat of his heart. It suddenly rushed in his ears when the red light passed over him. He shoved Meg forward, taking a hit to the back. She and him ran in separate directions. 

“Come on, you oaf!” Jake called back, hoping his blood trail would lead Trapper from the redhead. But when he looked back, he was alone, and Meg was nowhere to be found. Jake cursed himself for his absent-mindedness. 


Meanwhile, Meg’s own heartbeat hadn’t yet slowed. Trapper kept swinging the cleaver at her head. She would rush forward when she heard the swipe of wind being cut, and vaulted over a window. The manor was confusing and hard to navigate, but it had a lot of things to crawl and duck under. So Meg waited until the Trapper passed by her locker before sneaking over and dashing down the hall. 

She purposefully left red scratches so Trapper wouldn’t leave the building. They hadn’t gotten to finish a single gen yet, and Meg knew the other three were taking advantage of the situation. She internally cheered when two gens were fixed almost back to back. Trapper bellowed somewhere in the house and she followed his loud footsteps towards the exit. 

“Hey, dumbass!” Meg shouted. She saw him just about to leave and threw a loose piece of the wooden railing at his head. He looked up at her and didn’t move. Meg knew he must have been deciding if she was worth the precious time. When another gen went off, he turned to leave. Meg smirked devilishly. 

No way was that happening. 

She jumped over the railing, hit the floor, and ran around the killer’s back. He turned and savagely tried to catch her off guard with his cleaver. She ducked, spun around and was chased back into the manor. But Trapper swung again and caught her shoulder. Meg screamed and dashed quickly downstairs into a dilapidated hall. She wasn’t sure she’d been this way before, and through her adrenaline, realized the door leading this way was usually shut and locked. 

“Shit, I don’t know where I am,” she muttered. 

The hall was narrow and long. Trapper shouted angry, muffled words behind her. She went down another set of stairs and found herself at a diverting path. She took a left, careful not to leave scratches, she ducked behind a stack of boxes. Behind her, Trapper shuffled around. When the noises stopped, she peeked around the corner. 

Trapper was gone. But he hadn’t come this way. Then Meg realized, in her panic, she hadn’t noticed that the exit gates opened. She had to escape. But… Meg looked down the hall. She felt the timer of the Entity counting down, telling her to either hurry up or be impaled. Meg decided to let it impale her. She hadn’t lost a trial in a while, and had never been down here before. Trapper would probably have the door locked again by the time she returned. 

Her footsteps were quiet. She tried a few doors she found, but each was locked. The end of the hall was filled with crates, cobwebs and sacks. Nothing of interest was down here, and Meg was a little disappointed that she wasted her time. A death by the Entity’s claws was not fun, and she didn’t even get anything out of it!

Disappointed, Meg froze up when she heard footfalls. Running ones. She ducked into the crates just in time to see Trapper coming quickly down the hall. She thought he had seen her and was getting ready to run, but then the killer stopped halfway through and started to fiddle with one of the locked doors. The chains came loose with the iron, black key he kept on his hip. Meg perked up. The survivors had always wondered what it unlocked. Now she knew. 

The Trapped entered and the door was left swinging. She heard chains rattling inside and… Meg strained her ears. It almost sounded like another person whimpering. Meg felt the timer about to run out. She hopped from her hiding spot and peeked into the open doorway. Her eyes widened, just as she felt the air grow cold with the Entity’s manifesting claws. 

The Trapper had a man at his feet. An unfamiliar, but very human person. He had glasses with one cracked lens, and wore the dirty remains of white button-up and slacks. An iron collar, as black as the key, sat around his red-chaffed throat. Trapper held the chain attached to it, pulling at it, saying something that Meg realized were actual words. 

“-if you ever escaped-” 

Meg didn’t get to hear the rest of his gruff words. The Entity’s claw sprang through her middle. She screamed, watching Trapper turn to her in shock as the rest of the claws pulled back in earnest. Meg kicked out, agonized gaze falling to the chained man. He was staring at her like she was a mythical being. Not in terror, or confusion. Not looking at where the claws pushed gore from her torn flesh. He was looking at her face, and taking in the details of another human. 

The rest of the claws struck. Meg gagged on her blood and the survivor jerked up to his feet, reaching out as if to help. The last thing Meg saw was Trapper furiously pulling the man back by his collar. 

Chapter Text


“Why the hell would he have a man down there?” 

“I don’t know!” Meg shouted for what felt like the hundredth time. “He went down there and checked the room like he thought I was gone or something.”

“What if it’s a trick?” David said. “I mean, what would a killer want with a survivor?”

“Maybe it’s like, a personal torture chamber for when we’re not around,” Nea said. “The sickos gotta get rewarded too, don’t they?” 

Everyone looked at the three rabbits almost completely eaten. Everyone was quiet for a beat. 

“We should steal his reward then,” Laurie smirked. “It’d piss off the bastard, plus maybe this guy knows a thing or two we don’t. Meg said the Trapper could speak. Maybe he’s overheard things about how this place runs.”

“Or maybe he's not a real person,” David pointed out. “It could be just a manifestation of the Entity. A body that’ll bleed and die when we’re not around. Probably ain’t even a soul in it. Like one of those golem things.”

“This isn’t Dungeon and Dragons,” Jake said. “If that’s a human being that needs our help, then I’m going to do what I can. Next time at Trapper’s estate, I’m snagging that key and taking that man through the exit gates. And I’ll try to do it alone if no one else helps me.” He looked at David all while he spoke. 

“I’m in!” Meg jumped from her log. 

“Me too,” Claudette nodded, sounding a little hesitant. “We can’t just leave him there.”

David sighed. “Yeah, fine. Fine. But if we even manage to pull something like that off, we have to be careful. We always have to be careful.”

“I’m with David on this one,” Laurie said. “This realm is dangerous. Things sometimes aren’t what they appear. I’ll help, but if we do this, we have to take some precautions. Several.”

Jake nodded. “Of course. I… have a feeling we won’t pull this off the first few times. Based on what Meg described, this hallway is easier to get trapped in than the basement.”


And hard it was. It was almost a year before the survivors even got a hold of the key. 

Each and every trial with the Trapper, they learned the best steps to reach his captive. They died several times over to learn how to sneak up on the killer to reach his key. Nea was the best at it, and one time even had the chance to slip the key from his hip without his notice. She didn’t, though. They still had a few other things to figure out. 

David began to fix the campsite to make it safer, just in case they were bringing something evil here. He got help from Quentin and Claudette, who had lots of med-kits and natural remedies prepared. The captive’s neck would definitely need healing. 

Meg ran across the estate, learning the best and quickest route from exit gate, to exit gate, to the manor. Jake had his crows play a part, learning to mimic human sounds and movements to turn the killer around and lead him where they needed him. Laurie began to hide glass shards and jagged piping around the map. Places Trapper would never look. They couldn’t kill him, but they could slow him down when the time came. 

And then one day, it happened. They felt ready, and the combination of four survivors needed to carry out the plan were summoned to the estate. Jake had burned an offering that put them all together - Nea, David, Laurie, and himself. They all looked at eachother, gathered their bearings, and nodded. 

Jake’s crows perked up at his whistling signal. They took off and pinpointed the Trapper near the East. Nea followed them, the crows keeping the Trapper confused while she began to dangerously creep to his hip. Meanwhile, David, Laurie and Jake began fixing the generators, but left them just on the edge of complete repair. It wasn’t until Nea had the key, and right under Trapper’s nose, that David finished the one farthest from the manor. 

The killer stomped over and David kept him distracted while Nea raced for the manor. Jake bolted for the next gen farthest from the building. He heard David scream and fixed a gen, hoping Trapper would be enticed to investigate. His crows told him that Trapper was on his way. 

But… something was wrong. As David and Jake whittled away the outside gens, Nea had yet to emerge from the manor. When they ran out of gens and had nothing left but the ones near the manor, they still tried to keep him away. That was a mistake. The Trapper got suspicious and stopped chasing them altogether. 

Jake, through his spot in the tall grass, could see the killer turn to look at the manor. A hand went to his hip and tension run through his body like he’d been electrocuted. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Jake hissed. Trapper was running up the steps and into the manor. Jake stood up and saw David and Laurie sprinting to him. 

“We need to fix the last gens and get the gates open,” David said, already on his way to a nearby one. “If Nea manages to escape with him, we’ll need the way open!” 

“If she manages,” Laurie muttered, obviously feeling defeated. Jake looked up at the manor before following close behind. He wished he could help, but knew Nea was capable. He believed in her. 

Chapter Text


Nea wasn’t sure what to think. Her hands were shaky. They were never shaky. Not after years of dealing with all this horror crap. But now, she couldn’t help but feel that long-forgotten tang of sharp, unfiltered fear. 

Trapper really did have a human down here - a person, dirty and chained to the wall by his throat. He looked up at Nea through foggy glasses, eyes blown wide in confusion and open mouth crusted with a line of dried blood. Nea cursed herself for freezing and entered the cold stone room. 

But instead of being eager to be released, like she expected, the survivor scampered backwards until his back hit the wall, looking around as if for an escape. 

“No! No, hey, don’t be scared, dude!” Nea tried her best calm voice, but it came out more demanding than she meant. “I’m here to bust you out!” 

She flashed the key before him, showing it off as proof. The man’s eyes followed it like a dog to a bone and his hands reached up for his collar. Nea noticed how he kept looking behind her, at the open doorway. 

“Yeah, we don’t have a lot of time, so I gotta unlock you quick, okay?” She reached a shaky hand out, trying to hold it steady. But the man wouldn’t let her get close to the keyhole. He shook his head and kicked out, backing away. 

“Trouble, trouble,” he was muttering. Nea almost didn’t hear it. “Trouble, get in trouble..”

“No, you won’t be in trouble,” Nea argued. She felt like she might vomit. She didn’t know how to handle someone who probably had a broken mind. Traps, blades and gens were easy. Humans? Not so much. Who knows how long he’d been in this tiny room. “I'm taking you to a safe place. He won’t be able to follow you there. You’ll be safe.”

The survivor seemed to mull over her words. 

“If you don’t leave now, you won’t get to sit with us at the campfire,” Nea said. “We have rabbit cooking on it right now.”

“R-rabbit?” The man leaned forward, the idea of food making his face flash with a look of awe. 

“Yeah, dude,” Nea smirked. “Warm food. We’ve been trying to get to you for a while, and this chance won’t come for another long time. Please. I won’t leave until you go with me, but I won’t force you to go either.” 

She held the key out a bit more, and to her relief, the man let go of his collar. He didn’t take the key himself, but gingerly released his collar to give her access to the lock connecting the chain. Nea snapped it with a click. The chain was pulled off. It was shockingly heavy, and Nea tossed it aside before removing the equally heavy collar. The man watched where she threw it into the shadows.

“Uh, hey,” She said, unwilling to touch him. There were bruises and cuts where she could see bare skin, and by the way he moved, she guessed there was internal damage too. His head snapped to look at her warily. “We should go. Everyone else is getting the exit open.”

The man nodded timidly and got to shaky legs. Nea still didn’t touch him, but asked him to stay close and quiet while they snuck out. She cursed and both froze in the hall. They took too long. The man suddenly grabbed Nea’s arm in a vice-like grip when thunderous footsteps ran over their head. Trapper was sprinting down here. 

“It’s okay, follow my lead,” Nea whispered, gently grabbing his wrist. The man was looking between his cell and the footsteps, as if debating going back inside to avoid being caught escaping. Nea wasn’t going to let that happen. 

“He wants you to give into your fear,” she said. “But you have someone here with you now. I’m going to protect you.”

The man didn’t seem convinced, but let her shut the cell door before they hid behind the crates at the end of the hall. She made him crouch way back, then both stilled as Trapper came barrelling down the hall. The air was immediately drenched in his anger. The killer threw open the cell door and stomped inside. Nea sprinted forward, slamming the door shut and locking it before Trapper could pound it open. Nea breathed heavily, backing away with trembling hands. Above her, the wail of the exit gates opening could be heard. Trapper screamed fury in response. 

“You bitch! You fucking cunt!” Trapper’s spittle flung through the tiny, barred window. Nea blinked, surprised at his words, and that they were insults at her. “Where is he?! Where the fuck is he?!” 

Nea stumbled back, ignoring him to fish the terrified man from the crates. He didn’t want to budge, shaking his head as Nea tried to get him to pass by the door. 

“P-please, c-c-can’t-” The man could barely speak. He was dead weight in Nea’s grip. 

Trapper heard his voice. The thrashing stopped. 

“Dwight! If you leave, your punishment will be horrific! It’ll be worse than you can ever imagine, you disobedient, little fucker!”

Dwight - Nea mentally noted - seemed to collapse completely in on himself. He was shaking his head and crying, apologizing under his breath like he was about to enter hell and was praying to the lord. 

“Dwight!” Nea shouted, and he snapped his eyes up to her. He must not have heard anyone else say his name in a long time. She took his hands in her own. The trembling made her arms shake. “If we leave now, you get no punishment. If we leave now, you can eat food and sleep by a warm fire and no one will hurt you. Okay, Dwight? You’re one of us, now. You’re a survivor.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes, as if the title meant something. He nodded, and Nea told him to run and not look at the door. Trapper yelled all the while. He yelled things at Dwight that were disgusting and sexual. Things that made Nea’s blood run cold. She didn’t look at Dwight. She couldn’t. She acted like she couldn’t hear Trapper and pulled the poor man out of the hall. The iron door shuttered behind them, threatening to break open. 

“We have to hurry,” Nea said. “The timer is gonna run out!” 

Dwight tugged at her hand. She stumbled, not wanting to lose him but terrified of missing the exit. 

“Y-you, no, please,” Dwight was stammering nonsense. 

“Dude, come on, we’re so close,” Nea pressed. Then she looked closer at his face, and realized just how red it was. He withdrew his hand like she burned him. 

“I-I’m n-n-n-o sur-sur-r-vivor,” he said. “I’m n-n-not…”

“I’m not leaving you here,” Nea said firmly. “Dwight, if you stay now, I’ll just come back. I’ll keep coming back.”

“I-I-I’m d-d-d-i-isgusting-” 

“Trapper is the sick one,” Nea hissed, a bit too harshly. Dwight had flinched so she reeled it in. “Please, Dwight. Come home.”

He looked at her. With neither agreement or disagreement, she tugged on his arm and he followed. They escaped the manor, but just as they fled into the woods and towards the gate, the crash of a metal door came from the house. 

Trapper was coming. 

Chapter Text

The crows told Jake that Nea had escaped the manor. And she had a friend in tow. He was at the exit gate with David and Laurie. Immediately, all three raced towards their direction. Jake was warned that the Trapper was close behind. 

“David!” Laurie called out. “You remember where the stashes are?”

“Couldn’t forget,” he called back. 

They split up to grab their rummaged weapons while the sound of running survivors got closer. Nea had a man limping behind her. He looked wild with fear, both clinging to Nea’s arm and looking over his shoulder like he might try to wretch away on his own. Jake raced forward to help them, hearing the Trapper shout in pained anger not too far off. 

“Hurry, hurry,” Jake half-whispered, half-shouted, running around them. “Get to the gate, we’ll keep him at bay!” 

“Come on, Dwight, we’re almost there,” he heard Nea say. 

He watched them get a few feet from the exit, when Jake’s heartbeat suddenly went crazy. He saw the red light up ahead and made some noise, trying to get the killer to follow him. He was shocked when Trapper ran right by him, close enough to hit, but not taking the chance. Jake ran after him, sprinting in front of him. Laurie was there too, being ignored despite practically jumping off the killer’s heels. Nea and the captive were practically home free, but Trapper was getting close. 

Jake rammed his shoulder into the Trapper. David, who had run up behind him, added his weight and Trapper stumbled to the side to regain his balance. He screamed in rage and lashed out. Jake’s chest was gashed. Trapper turned back around, but Nea and the captive had escaped, running off into the forest. The Entity blocked the killer from going after them, the red tipped spikes holding firm against his thrashing. 

Jake and the others were able to slip past him, the killer too lost in his anger to properly aim. Laruie was the last to escape, only getting nicked in the shoulder.

“Holy fuck,” Jake breathed, helping her up. “We did it?”

“I think we did,” Laurie nodded. 

“Feel sorry for whoever goes into trial with Trapper next,” David chuckled, looking a bit shaky himself. 

They ran off towards their haven, Trapper’s bellows following behind them. 

Chapter Text

Dwight felt numb. His heart raced faster than it had in a long time. Adrenaline and terror still streaked through his veins, Trapper's threats ringing his head. But it all felt muffled. He was clinging to the strange woman who appeared out of nowhere and rescued him. 

 Dwight stumbled. Rescued? He was free? He looked down at his tattered sneakers, the grass lapping at his legs and the leaves that crunched underfoot. He took a deep, shuttering breath of the woods. Nea noticed and slowed down to a jogging trot. She was shaking just as bad as he was. But she was grinning. 

 "Holy fuck, I haven't felt my heart race that bad in forever, hehe," the woman laughed breathlessly. "Are you okay? We're safe now, so we can rest if you need to."
 Dwight barely heard her. He kept noticing new things - the lightness of his neck, the cold tickle of clean air, the way his legs were already aching with exertion as if he'd ran for miles. 


 His eyes snapped back up to her. He wanted to thank her, to keep up on his manners, but his words caught in his throat. Nea frowned, lifting a hand but not setting it on his shoulder like she wanted. Dwight had taken a step back. He wanted to trust this woman. He did. But hallucinations and illusions weren't uncommon to him. He wondered if he'd finally snapped and didn't realize he was reaching towards her face before Nea asked what he was doing. 

 Dwight reeled back, embarrassed. 

 "S-sor-r-r-ry" He could barely speak past his stutter. "I-it's h-hard t-t-to beli-ieve."

 Nea's face softened. She grabbed his retreating hands gently, and though Dwight's heart hammered at the human contact, she only gave him a quick and reassuring squeeze. 

 "I'm real, dude. And so is your rescue."

 Dwight only nodded absently. Even if he had something to say in reply, the sound of approaching footfalls had thrown him back into an adrenaline-filled state. 

 He's here! He's coming! 

 Nea called after him, but Dwight was already blindly sprinting through the foliage and trees. His fear was too wild to contain right now. He needed to find a spot to hide. He needed a place to dissapear. Nothing else mattered but getting away. 

 Someone was running after him. All Dwight heard was the angry, snarling breath of his captor. He could practically feel the cleaver slicing into his back already, downing him and finalizing his punishment. 


 The terrified man turned, taking a hard right and ducking through the bushes. Footsteps raced past him. He crawled away from where they went. He had to press a palm to his mouth to keep from crying out. In his fear, the poor man couldn't even remember how he got here. All he could think was:

 Master is going to flay me alive. I can't handle it. I can't handle this.

 His head fell in his hands. He kept reaching down to the missing collar, scared tears and hitched breaths taking over his mostly silent sobs. Dwight felt like he was going to explode. 

 'Caw! Caw!' 

 His eyes snapped open. They were wet and wide, staring at the beady black eye that peered back at him. Dwight blinked. The crow blinked back. It cawed once more and took a hop forward. It's large beak pecked at the earth.

 Dwight wasn't sure how to feel about the birds. He'd heard their muffled crows from his prison, and sometimes wished he'd been able to fly away like them. 

 "H-hey..." Dwight muttered. His voice was raw and quiet. "W-wanna trade l-lives?"

 The crow gave him a sharp 'caw!' as if in answer. It hopped closer and turned, fluffing its feathers and giving Dwight a critical eye. It hopped away, turned, then hopped back. It kept repeating the motion as Dwight stared, before it seemed to get impatient, caw loudly and grab at his sneaker with a beak. With a flap of its wings, it tried to pull him from his huddled position. 

 "N-no," Dwight whispered at it, gently batting the bird away. 

 It grabbed at his fingers, not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to give him a hard tug. Dwight let himself be drug forward, a bit bewlidered by this creature's antics. 


  It let go and touched the ground, leading a timid Dwight from the bushes. It took another ten minutes to get the man to fully leave his hiding place. He kept dashing back into the leaves, any and every noise leading him to believe that his Master had found him. 


 The crow got fed up and flew up into Dwight's hair. He yelped, stumbling backwards and falling into the branches. The crow grabbed ahold of his dark strands and tugged. Wings flapped harshly against his cheeks. 

 "Gah! W-w-what's w-w-r-ro-ong w-w-ith y-you!?"

 'Caw! Caw!' 

 The crow backed off, marching back and forth like a little soldier. Dwight readjusted his glasses and finally followed it. It hopped along at a slow pace. Dwight easily kept up, limping behind with nervous glances while biting at his nails. The crow cawed at him every time Dwight was about to get lost in his own thoughts. It took a long time until an orange glow began to break through the gloomy trees. 

 Fire? Dwight perked up. He hadn't felt true warmth in so long. His pace picked up a bit and the crow fluttered up into the air, cawing loudly and taking off ahead of him. Dwight slowed as the bird was greeted by human voices. Shadows flickered through the glow. Dwight stopped moving completely. He felt ill. He wanted to turn around. 

 When did the Entity steal more people anyway? 

 The voices hushed. They must have known he was there. Dwight's heart started to race, uncertainty making his stomach flip. He stood there, neither running nor going forward. The crow flew back and fluttered down in front of him. 


 It grabbed at his shoelace and tugged. Dwight shook his head. The crow kept tugging, eventually getting a single step out of him. Then another, and another. Dwight was stiff and nervous as he stopped behind a tree at the edge of the camp site and peered around the trunk. 

Chapter Text

Dwight counted three humans, all sitting around a large crackling fire. They were obviously trying not to stare, but eyes were turned and watching. Nea had stood up, a small relieved smile on her face. The crow cawed once more, urging him to hurry on out. 

"Dwight," Nea greeted. "Hey, I saved some food for you."

She stopped several feet away, by a red headed woman and a young man with wild, dark hair that resembled the crow's own ruffled feathers. His skin was dark where the glow struck his face, and his sharp eyes watched the bird by Dwight's feet. He whistled and the crow took off to his shoulder. It rummaged through the man's hair as he gave it a head scratch. 

"Thanks, buddy. I knew you'd lead him here."

Dwight wanted to ask if the bird belonged to him, but he felt too nervous. It felt strange - unimaginable, even - to be among other humans. Dwight had long given up seeing anyone other than his owner. 

"Come on," Nea gestured him over. "We can introduce you to everyone. David, Quentin, Claudette and Laurie are in a trial right now, but they'll be excited to meet you."

Trial? Dwight wanted to ask. 

It sounded similar to the Chase - a game Dwight was forced to play before being gifted to the killer who hunted him. Dwight had run through the forests, encountering puzzles and traps in between his endless deaths. It made sense that, after Dwight, the Entity would seek new entertainment. 

"I'm Meg. Meg Thomas," the red-head said with an easy smile. 

Dwight looked at her, trying to forget the foggy memories he'd almost lost himself in. He gave a nod. If he opened his mouth, he worried he'd start to cry. That wasn't uncommon for him. Meg nodded back politely and the man by her, with the crow still on his shoulder, gave him a wave. 

"I'm Jake," he said. "And you've already met my friend here. Sorry if he was rough with you. He gets impatient too quickly."

Dwight noted that Jake wasn't referring to the bird by a name, and was a little upset he didn't get to know it. He kind of liked the creature. 

Dwight cleared his throat, wanting to introduce himself. His throat was still too tight. So he just gave a nod to Jake, then one to the crow. 

Nea returned from around the fire with a flat plate of loose bark. On it were warm strips of pink flesh. Dwight's mouth began to overflow with drool. Nea chuckled at his expression and offered him the plate. 

"I know, the first time we got to eat, it was amazing. Here, don't be shy."

Dwight timidly took the plate and was ushered to sit. He chose the empty log across from Meg and Jake, and Nea sat on the ground, off to the side. Dwight felt a little awkward as silence and fire crackling took over. 

"Eat first," Nea told him. "Then we can talk."

Dwight had no complaints there. He dug in, indulging in a privilege he thought he'd lost forever.

Chapter Text

Meg tried not to stare. But fuck, was it hard. Nea and Jake kept giving her hard looks when she looked over at the starving man stuffing his face. 

He'd been unable to speak, but he sure didn't have trouble using that throat for other things. By the way it was red and scarred up, Meg imagined he'd be unable to eat. 

'Dude, stop staring,' Nea mouthed at her. 

'Sorry, it's just weird to see him in real life,' she shot back. They'd all gotten excellent at mouth reading. It was necessary for survival. 

Jake jabbed her in the side. She gave him a dirty look. 

'He's almost done, don't freak him out,' Jake mouthed. 

'You don't freak him out.'

"Here, you can just toss that aside." They both looked up at Nea's voice. She had taken Dwight's empty plate and chucked it. "We get new survivors showing up some time, so I guess we can go through the same introductions we give them."

"I-i-int-tro?" Dwight asked. 

Meg wasn't surprised to hear the severe stutter. 

"Yeah, kinda like a tour of the homeroom," Jake said. "Or, if you're feeling like you wanna lay down, we have shacks we've built a ways off for privacy."


Jake gave the talkative crow a pat. "And this specific crow will show you around. Just whistle if you ever get lost."


Dwight wasn't sure he could whistle, but he nodded anyway. The crow suddenly took off into the night. Jake chuckled and wiped a loose feather from his brow. 

"He'll be back. He's already taken quite a liking to you."

"D-does h-h-he have a-a-a na-a-ame?" Dwight asked. 

"Naw, none of them do," Jake shook his head. "They don't like or respond to names.  I think it's an animal thing."

Dwight titled his head. Was this man alluding that he could speak to the crows? 

"He's our resident bird-boy," Meg said. "I don't know what it is, but the crows love Jake. They help him out anyway they can."

"R-r-really?" Dwight perked up. "T-that's c-cool."

"They've saved our asses countless times," Meg continued. "Jake even taught them to sound like us so we could save you!" 

Dwight was suddenly reminded of where he was and who he was. Master was out there. He was furious. He was probably plotting his slow, and painful demise right then. He swallowed thickly. 

"H-h-how-?" Dwight paused, both his stutter and trembling voice making it nearly impossible to understand him. 

He wanted to ask how they could go to his Master's estate, but why it was impossible for Master to come here. What were the trials? Did they take place right above his little cell? So many questions, and Dwight could only whimper, pulled thin by frustration and frayed nerves. 

"It's okay, take your time. What did you want to know?" Nea asked. 

"M-m-my..." Dwight began. He cut himself off. He was going to ask about his Master, but grew embarrassed. There was no way these survivors called him that. He gestured up to his neck in frustration. 

"Your neck?" Meg inquired unhelpfully. 

Dwight shook his head. 

"Trapper?" Jake asked. 

Dwight assumed that was what they called him and nodded. "H-h-he c-c-can't g-g-get h-here?"

"Oh no!" Nea waved a hand. "This is our camp site. We've been here for years and never seen a killer enter. When we're summoned to a trial, we leave this place and go to one of the killer's realms. That's where we play a trial."

"O-o-oth-th-thers!?" Dwight asked, shocked. "K-killers, you m-mean?"

The others exchanged brief looks. 

"Yeah," Jake nodded. "The Entity has a collection of each. Survivors and killers. Four of us go to a random killer's realm at a time. We can be killed though, and we'll revive back here. If we survive, we keep the tools and anything else we find there."

Dwight nodded absently. "A-a g-game?"

"Yeah, a game for the Entity."

Dwight flinched. He only heard of that name when Master was screaming insults and punches at him when the deity made him angry. Dwight never knew about the trials, but now it made sense why he randomly became so angry. His Master hated losing a hunt. Hated it more than anything. 

"So you know about that big black dick in the sky too, huh?" Nea asked. "We haven't found a way to escape it yet, but if we freed you, who knows what else we can do."

Dwight didn't say anything to that. He was suddenly very tired. And though sleep wasn't necessary, it was a blessing he could still do. The other survivors didn't seem to mind his sudden need for isolation. Jake even whistled for him, calling back his crow. 

The bird landed on the ground, and gave Jake a bob of its upper body when asked to take Dwight to the shacks. 

"He needs some time to lay down. Go easy on him, yeah? Dwight's had a long day."


The crow flew up and grabbed Dwight's hair, tugging him backwards with a haughty caw. Dwight stumbled a little to catch up, thanking Nea in a shaky voice.

"No one will bug you until you're ready, okay?" Nea told him. 

He nodded, disappearing into the brush with a bundle of impatient feathers.

Chapter Text

David, Quentin, Laurie and Claudette had returned from their trial, only for Jake, Nea and Meg to immediately be called into another. 

Laurie had cursed and shouted profanities at the Entity when  she was summoned to. Having just been killed in a trial, all the other survivors couldn't help but give her pitying looks. 

"Guys, watch out for our new survivor. Trapper really fucked him up," Nea said as she started to disappear. "He's at the shacks right now."

"Yeah, David, be nice!" Jake warned, his last word cut off as his body dissolved into gold and black dust. 

David scoffed at the remains. "I'll be a peach."

When only David, Quentin, and Claudette were left, the trio huddled up by the fire. There really was nothing else to do. They should have been more worried for their friends. Entity was eagerly anticipating this trial. 


Jake woke up in the MacMillan estate. He immediately felt a pit grow in his gut. Trapper wouldn't be happy with their heist. And based on the sudden roar of fury from the manor, the killer was eager for this trial to start. 

Jake whistled for his crows. They alerted him that Trapper was rampaging through the map. Jake realized he didn't even need his birds. He could hear the killer just by his angry breath alone. But what Trapper was lacking in stealth, he was making up in fierce determination. 

He heard Meg scream, then scream again as she fell. But Trapper didn't pick her up. Jake heard her keep screaming. Screaming like she was being tortured. He left his generator and sprinted across the map. He saw Nea and ran up beside her. The woman led the way through some brush and they both gasped at what they saw. 

"S-stop! Stop-AHH!" Meg thrashed as her arm was bent backwards, snapping in half. She screamed bloody murder. Trapper was holding her down with a boot to the back. 

"Where is he?!" The killer was shouting. "Where is he?!" 

"Fuck you!" Meg spat blood on the ground, screaming again as her arm was wretched back further. 

Nea sprang forward without a weapon, out of hiding and into the killer's side. Jake hesitated before looking to the sky. He whistled, begging his crows to help. Only a few of them decided to intervene and flew around Trapper, pecking and clawing at his mask while  Nea dragged Meg away. 

Jake felt his heart ache when one of the crows was punched out of the sky. It burst under the Trapper's boot in blood and feathers. The others flew way up high. Birds never resurrected.

"Come on, go hide, I'll lead him off," Jake said through gritted teeth. 

"Be careful," Nea said. 

Meg, despite her crooked arm, kept pace with the other woman as Jake split from them. He grabbed a rock, threw it at Trapper's head, and sprinted towards the east side of the map. 

"Come and get me, fuck face!" Jake shouted. 

He ducked under the cleaver and ran towards one of the many dilapidated houses. He was going to vault through the buildings and try to loop away, but Trapper wasn't playing around today. Jake choked as he was yanked halfway through the window. He screamed, a hand coming to wrap around his throat and drag him through the dirt. 

"Let go! Let the hell go!" 

"Shut up!" Trapper growled. He threw Jake under his boot, pinning him there. "Where the fuck is my pet?"

"He's not a pet!" Jake growled. Trapper was more fucked than he realized. "He's not yours to keep!" 

Trapper grabbed Jake's shirt and hoisted him up. He was thrust close to the smiling, sharp-toothed mask. "He was my reward! I earned him!"

The cleaver rammed into his hand. Jake screamed as Trapper started to separate it from his wrist. When he was dropped, the survivor saw his dismembered body part twitching by his face. 

"Where is Dwight?" Trapper pressed a boot to the top of Jake's head. "Where is that fucking slut?"

Jake's blood ran cold. Anger rose up in him like fire drenched in oil. 

"You're a sick freak," Jake hissed. "He's not yours."

"If you don't bring him to me, I'll make all your lives hell. I'll turn these trials into blood baths. I'll haunt your dreams and leave you begging me for forgiveness."

Jake smiled, teeth outlined in blood. "You ain't the Entity. You're just it's bitch."

"And right now, you're my bitch," Trapper snarled back. 

Jale choked on his blood as the blade came down on his neck. Over and over again, cutting just enough to cause horrible gaony, but not enough to kill. 

From outside the clearing, Quentin watched utter terror. He had come to unhook Jake, but instead found the killer acting out of turn and slicing up his friend like he was fresh meat. Quentin had no idea what to do. He just stepped out of the bush and stood there. Trapper looked up at him, grabbed Jake's hair and pulled his head back. His cleaver came down to the man's throat and started to hack. 

Quentin's face went ghost white as he watched his friend's head be thrown to his feet. The poor teenager was stricken with a fresh wave of fear. He wasn't immune to it like Nea or David, but seeing the killer brutally kill someone outside game rules was confusing and scary. 

Quentin whimpered as Trapper descended upon him. 

Chapter Text

Dwight didn't feel like returning to the fire, but he also didn't want to be alone anymore. He'd rested for a while in the little wooden shack. It had blankets on the ground and hay beneath. The itchy feeling was far outweighed by the soft comfort and warmth of an almost-bed. Dwight knew he'd become an avid nap taker. 


"I-I-I'm c-coming," Dwight called after Crow. The bird was well ahead of him, directing him back to the campsite with his impatient crowing. 

He had expected to see Jake, Meg and Nea there. Instead, he saw three other strangers. Two of which he'd briefly seen when he'd escaped with Nea. They had helped him, just like Jake, so he figured they must be safe. Dwight timidly withdrew from the shadows. 

"There he is! Been wondering if we'd get to see the newbie," David called. He was loud and boisterous, and Dwight wasn't sure he liked that. But he was smiling, and the vibe he got from everyone else was generally good-natured. 

"Hey there," a dark-skinned woman with thick glasses smiled at him. "I'm Claudette. And this is David and Laurie. I've got a little something for you."

Dwight remained quiet and where he was as the woman withdrew something wrapped in a leaf from behind the log. She held it out to him patiently. 

"It's for cuts and soreness. I made the cream myself. It should help with any pain or itchiness." She shook the gift a little, and Dwight realized how rude he was being. He took the leaf. 

"T-t-t-thank-k-k y-y-you," he mumbled. 

"Of course," she nodded. "Would you like to sit?"

He nodded and sat, absently turning the leaf over in his hands. He'd put it on when he was alone, he thought. He felt weird enough as it was with these strangers. He wished Nea was here. As if sensing his discomfort, Crow flew down to nestle by his log. 

"Little rat is annoying as hell," David said, jabbing a thumb as the bird. "A bit a'bad luck to have it take a liking to ya, huh Dwight?"

"H-he-e-e's a-a-alrig-ght," Dwight muttered. The bird had been rather helpful to him. 

"David's just being pissy," Laurie said. "That crow saved his head from being cut off his neck one day. The wraith just about had him on his last hook, huh David? I thought we'd lose you before the exit gates opened."

"That crow steals my food," David grumbled. 

"He deserves a little reward too," Claudette giggled. "Don't you, buddy?"


"He can have dinner when he gets impaled a hundred times over."

Everyone chuckled. Dwight felt out of place. He focused on the fire's warmth and pet at Crow's head whenever he came close enough. It was kind of hard to listen to them talk about the trials in such a care-free manner. From what Dwight pieced together, it was a scary and brutal game.  Not something to fondly converse over. 

He began to wonder: would he have to start playing too?

"What do you think, Dwight?" David asked. 


"You like the shacks?" David grinned proudly. "Me and Jake built them in a few months. Took a long time to find enough wood."

Dwight nodded, latching onto the safe topic. "V-v-v-e-ery c-c-comf-f-fy."

"It took a long time to get all those blankets," Claudette said. "But well worth it. And I'm not one for naps."

Dwight let her and David discuss what they used to make their shelters and how Quentin practically lived in them. Laurie made him a bit uneasy. She had a bad habit of examining him when she thought he wasn't looking. 

Luckily, it sounded like a body was approaching. The trial must be over and Dwight looked over, hoping to see Nea. Instead, he saw a wide-eyed Jake stumbling through the trunks, holding his neck with trembling hands. The other three survivors were on their feet, surrounding him in moments. 

"Are you okay?"

"Woah, slow down, what's wrong?"

"What’s got you freaked, kid?"

Jake locked eyes with Dwight through the throng of bodies. 

"We were at MacMillan," Jake muttered. "The others... he's really mad at us."

"Who? Trapper?" David asked. "He hooked you fast."

Jake shook his head. "He didn't hook me, he..." he paused, looking to Dwight again. "He's not playing by the rules.”

Dwight couldn't breath. Jake was muttering about how he'd had tortured him to death. That they needed to come up with a game plan for the angered killer's ferocity. 

"H-h-he w-w-wants m-me," Dwight said, voice almost too low to hear. "H-h-he-e's hu-r-r-rting you-" 

"He'll always be hurting us," Jake said. His hand hadn't stopped rubbing at his neck. "There's nothing that can be done about that. I just... I left them behind. I got caught too early and now he's after them."

"What did he do?" Laurie asked. 

"He... ripped my head off," Jake mumbled. 

Dwight felt severely ill. Too many memories came rushing back. Too many deaths - so many brutal, meaningless deaths - at the hands of rough, calloused fingers. A snap of his neck and a tearing of flesh. His nerves were on fire as Master laughed under his mask and told him how easy he was to track. 

He heard someone ask if he was okay. Dwight couldn't answer. He hit the earth, eyes fluttering to the back of his head. 

Chapter Text

Quentin held the bloody stump where his arm had been.

Jake was dead. Meg was dead. Nea was dead. They had all died horrifically gruesome deaths. Not a single gen was done and Quentin had no clue where the trap door was. He was woozy and felt sick. Half his foot was gone and, as slow as his limp made him, the blood trail that leaked from the wound was thick and easy to follow. 

The teenager knew he didn't have long before he too suffered something terrible. He hobbled over to a locker, throwing himself inside despite his unavoidable capture. The least he could do was close his eyes in the dark and cover one ear with his intact hand. He cowered when the Trapper's breath seeped in through the locker vent. The mask peered down at him, soaked red in blood. 

"Kill me quick, please," Quentin begged. 

He flinched when a fist pounded on the metal frame. Instead of opening the locker, the killer jammed the lock shut. Quentin was thrashed around as the locker was picked up and its bottom scraped along the building's floor. Caged, Quentin could only cower in fear as he was taken to the manor and down the lower level halls. He realized where he was being taken when the walls began to look unfamiliar. 

The locker was heaved upright in one of the rooms. Then, with a heavy kick, it was toppled over. Quentin grunted as his flesh hit hard metal. The door was kicked open and Trapper's boots came into view. 

"If I don't get back my pet, things will get worse each time you little rats come here," Trapper said lowly. "You'll be my first warning. You'll do well to tell your friends just what you experienced today."

"Hggnnh..." Quentin groaned as he was hefted out of the locker and rolled onto his back. 

Trapper knelt over him, grabbing a chain from the stone floor and wrapping it around the other's throat. Quentin tried to kick out and thrash, but it only tightened the chains and pinched his skin. The cleaver came out. It shone brightly despite the dull light, gleefully biting down into Quentin's arm. He writhed as it was hacked away, before Trapper took away the other, handless arm at the elbow. 

"Stop! Oh god- Stop!" 

Trapper began to hum as he worked. Then he threw the other arm to the side of the room, and got up, pulling Quentin by the make-shift leash to his knees. Blood ran down both his sides. 

"Go," Trapper ordered, pointing to the bloody arm. "Fetch."

Quentin nearly choked on a breathless sob. "F-fuck you," he whimpered. He fell flat on his face as Trapper jerked the leash forward and pointed again to the arm. 

"Fetch. Or I'll throw your leg instead, bitch."

Quentin gave in. The humiliation was as fierce as his pain. 

And when the timer finally expired and the Entity scooped him up in its crushing claws, Quentin felt peace while every bone in his body broke. He could escape this room. But Trapper cursed at him as he died, promising worse things for him and everyone else should Dwight not be returned. 

The claws tightened. With a final crack! Quentin was pulled into darkness. 


Quentin stumbled towards the fire, sobbing and hiccuping. 

His arms still hurt despite now being perfectly attached to his torso. There was no chain around his throat, but he still felt he couldn't breath. The taste of his blood and broken skin sat in his mouth, no matter how much his spit and wiped at his tongue. 

He'd been killed before. So many times, it had become almost routine. But this death had been so personal, so morbid in its execution and humiliation. 

Quentin didn't care who he grabbed when he first entered the site. It was Laurie. He wrapped his arms around her and began to sob into her chest. She wrapped her arms around him, leading him to a log and holding him close. 

"It's okay," she hushed him. "It's okay, Q. You're safe now."

Quentin knew it was a lie. He sobbed harder. He didn't want to go back to the estate. He didn't want to be tortured like that - treated like, like... His wide eyes shot around the camp and he noticed that Dwight wasn't here. He buried his head back into Laurie's shoulder. Oh God, what had the Trapper been using Dwight for? Quentin felt he'd only gotten a small taste of it. 

He sobbed until he could sob no more. No one asked him questions. Jake had knelt by him to pet at his head and told him how sorry he was that he'd been killed off early. 

"We can't let him have Dwight," Quentin cried. He saw Jake stiffen a bit, not expecting such a reply. "He can't go back to that room. B-but I- I don't want to go back either."

Neither Laurie nor Jake could promise him that. Quentin cried harder. 

Chapter Text

Dwight laid in the forest, curled up, alone and unable to sleep. When he had passed out after hearing about his Master's increased brutality, and been laid down in one of the shacks. He hadn’t left it for what he assumed were days. A few weeks had passed since then, and Dwight often found himself alone, visiting the campfire to find different combinations of the survivors there. 

Dwight didn’t like to be alone, but knowing that the Trapper was severely torturing them during his trials made it hard for Dwight to be around them. Guilt and shame always flooded through him, despite the others assuring him that Trapper was always brutal. Returning Dwight would make no difference. 

Dwight quite liked that he had people who cared for him. Even if that care was still shallow and awkward at best. It’s not like he knew these people all that well. 

He liked Nea, Jake and Meg the most. They had been the first ones he'd met and Dwight found it easiest to speak to them. He liked Laurie and Claudette too, but he still felt nervous near them. David was pretty difficult to be around. He was nosy and annoying, but he meant well. Dwight tried not to be too annoyed by his personality. Afterall, the man wasn't hacking him to bits, right? 

As for Quentin, Dwight had been in contact with him the least. The young man had been at the first trial in the estate, and whatever had happened, it scared him more than the usual deaths. The survivors were pretty tight-lipped about it, but Dwight knew they were going through hell with each MacMillan trial. His Master was very obsessive. Dwight's one and only escape attempt had taught him that lesson well. 


Dwight tried not to think of him. He was called Trapper around here, but the name never felt right. Dwight was a bit mortified to find that he couldn't think of the killer as anything but his owner. It was small comfort to know he wasn't going to be sucked into the trial. The Entity must have decided he suffered enough. And yet...

A reunion was always possible. In fact, it was most likely to happen. 

It made sleeping hard. Nightmares came too easily. Dwight never had them before. Sleep had always been his haven. The dreams had started a week prior, when he'd let his terrified mind finally believe in his freedom. 

So Dwight had taken to just resting without actually falling under. He'd taken a rest under a tree, and had thought of Quentin. From what Nea had told him, he was a "dreamwalker" and had a lot of experience with a killer who used dreams as a weapon. Dwight had never heard of anything so terrible. And now it felt like his Master was doing the same thing as the Kreuger guy. 

Speaking of, Dwight was a bit surprised to see the dreamwalker himself. The teenager was walking through the trees, face blank and staring straight ahead as if he didn't notice the other. Dwight was right in his sights though, and felt a bit miffed when his wave was ignored. 

"E-e-every-y-th-i-i-ing o-o-okay?" Dwight asked. 

Quentin kept ignoring him. Then he suddenly turned the other way. His body froze. Quentin stood there with his back facing Dwight, and it looked like he wasn't even breathing. 

"Q-Q-Q-uentin?" Dwight asked timidly.

He didn't turn. Dwight stood up and fidgeted. He nervously walked forward. "Hey, y-y-you o-okay?"

Quentin still didn't turn. Dwight couldn't speak anymore. He couldn't even draw any closer than the five feet that separated them. Then, Quentin turned around with a look of mild surprise and greeted Dwight with a wave. 

"Hey, I didn't see you there."

Dwight was shaking a bit. The other frowned. 

"Did I do something weird?" he asked. 

Dwight nodded. 

"Sorry. I don't know what it is, but my body will sometimes do things on its own. Nothing serious. I just black out and it auto-pilots itself into a corner, hehe." He laughed, but there was no humor there. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I-I-I w-w-a-as j-just w-w-wor-r-ied," Dwight managed to stammer out. 

"Thanks for the concern, but I'm okay. It doesn't hurt or anything." 

"O-oh," was all he could say. 

"Um, by the way, since I have you," Quentin began. "Jake was looking for you earlier. He was in a trial, last I heard, but he should be back at the fire by now. I thought you'd like to know."

"T-thank y-y-ou."

"No problem. Sorry again if I scared you."

"I-i-it a-ain't th-th-at h-hard-d to s-sca-are m-me. A-aint much of a-an a-a-ach-cheivment."

"I don't like scaring friends."


"'Course. I know you're having a hard time adjusting, and everyone just wants to give you space, but we're always thinking about you, you know?"

Dwight could only nod. Quentin smiled and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. Dwight didn't shy away from it. 

"I'm gonna take a nap. Join me if you'd like. I always feel better with another body. As silly as it sounds. Safety in numbers, I suppose."

 He left. 

Dwight thought he might take him up on that offer. The company might help his bad dreams. But for now, he felt a bit of eagerness to get to the camp. The man who spoke to crows was always nice to him, but he was quiet and reclusive. He seemed to enjoy his isolation as much as Dwight. And yet, with the little contact they'd had, Dwight found himself eager for more - to get to know Jake. 

He didn't feel like dissecting his feelings to understand why. He just headed towards the fire. 

Chapter Text

Dwight was directed further into the woods, looking for "really big" oak. He'd kept missing Jake, and everytime he wandered by the campfire, the man seemed to be out on a trial or out in the woods alone. Meg finally told him where to find him when he was reclusive. 

"Jake should be hanging out a few miles to the North, by a big tree. You'll know the tree when you see it," she pointed. 

Dwight thought he'd ask for more details, but the tree really was hard to miss. It was huge and dark, and in its hundreds of jagged branches, were thick throngs of black birds. The perched crows all 'cawed!' in overlapping turmoil. Jake was sitting on a low branch, eyes closed and listening to the chaos like it was an orchestra. 

Dwight almost didn't want to interrupt. But he was spotted by someone, who flew down with beating wings. Crow - as Dwight had come to call him - greeted him with a trill. Since their first meeting, Crow had visited the nervous man many times. His trilling caught Jake's attention. 

"Oh, hey, Dwight."

"H-i-i-i, J-Jake. I-I-I h-heard y-y-y-ou've b-b-been l-l-look-king f-for me?"

"Well, it's not an emergency. We haven't talked much since you've arrived, and-" Jake shrugged. "I'd like to talk more."

Dwight tried to play off the skip in his heart beat. And it wasn't from fear. He instead walked up under the tree and sat down with his back to the trunk. He turned his gaze upward to the other man peering down at him. 

"I hear you've settled well into one of the shacks," Jake said. 

"Um, y-yeah, I h-have. Quentin h-h-helped me bui-ild my own. It's a-still s-small, m-more of a-a-a lean-to. B-but I'm b-b-bui-i-ilding it up."

"Cool. I'm happy to hear you and Quentin have been getting along," Jake said. His voice lowered, regretful. "He has a harder time than the rest of us. He's not even eighteen yet. Probably will never reach it."

Dwight looked up in surprise. He didn't know Quentin was that young. 

"We've all left behind things, though," Jake sighed. "Uh, sorry. I'm being kind of a downer. We get enough of that stuff down here, huh?" He grinned, and Dwight could only stare at the lopsided tilt of his teasing lips. Dwight gulped and looked away. 

"Y-y-ye-e-eah, w-w-e-e d-d-do."

The two chatted idly about the camp and how Dwight was settling in. It was rather shallow conversation, but Dwight got too nervous when he wanted to bring up more meaningful topics. He couldn't think of any topic outside the realm anyway. Dwight couldn't even recall his old life. 

And he really didn't want to ask Jake about his. He did, he just didn't want to stir any sore feelings and- and Jake was staring down at him. Dwight realized he'd started to overanalyze things and got lost in his head. 

"You good down there?"

"J-j-just h-h-hap-py to b-be h-here," he said. It was true. He hadn't felt calm like this in a long time. 

But then just like that, as if the Entity heard this thought, the ground split open in an explosion of dirt and grass. One of the Entity's claws shot forward. Jake's eyes had gone wide. He'd thrown himself down to Dwight to grab at his arm and pull him away. But the claw had already pierced through the man's stomach. He was crying, grabbing at the bloody protrusion in horror. 

'I think your Dear Master has earned a chance back at his reward.' came the quiet, inhumane voice in his head. 

Dwight cried harder, begging Jake to help. 

"I-i-it's t-t-ta-ak-ki-i-i-ing m-m-me b-b-b-a-ack, it sa-a-aid it's ta-a-a-aking m-m-me b-b-back! J-Jake! H-he-e-e-elp!! J-Jak-ke!"

" No! We rescued him! We get to keep him!" Jake shouted at the deity, breaking from his trance and trying to slide Dwight off like he would a hook. 

Another claw shot out and pierced Dwight in the shoulder, going the other way of the first claw. Dwight started to beg the Entity to let him go as he and the appendages started to sink into the ground. Jake didn't move, even when the ground became thick, black clouds rimmed with hellish, red light. Even as it started to suck his legs in with them. 

"Fuck! Let go! This isn't fair! This isn't fucking fa-!" 

And the ground ate them all.  Jake's words echoed through the trees for a few short seconds, but the other survivors were too far away to hear it. 

Chapter Text

Dwight kicked and thrashed. The arms holding him tightened and he was so lost in his fear that he didn’t realize it was Jake who had him. A firm had kept him from screaming out. Dwight relaxed, taking note that his body was intact and not being pierced through by a giant claw. 

“Shhh. The Entity took us to MacMillan Estate,” Jake warned. 

His mouth low and close to his ear. Dwight was practically sitting in his lap, back to the other’s stomach, and would have enjoyed the situation had they not been in MacMillan Hell. But beneath his fear, there was something else. A sudden, innate knowledge of what he was doing here and why. 

“I think we’re in a trial,” Jake said. He slowly untangled himself from Dwight and helped the other to his knees. They kept low in the bushes. “I can’t explain to you why, I just know.”

No. Dwight felt it too. His instincts were telling him to find and fix five generators, and escape through the exit gates. Then, both he and Jake winced at the same time. The Entity was whispering in his head again, both their heads, its tone teasing. 

‘Die here, and my killer gets to keep you once more. As for the crow-talker, I don’t mind an extra player, but the stakes are the same for him too. My killer is already aware of his potential two pets. You should hurry.” 

The voice slithered from their heads. Dwight thought he heard laughing, but it fell through his hearing like thin smoke. His heartbeat was muffling everything around him. Jake grabbed his shoulders and suddenly he was looking into dark, determined eyes. There was so much more bravery and strength in there than Dwight had ever felt. Even in his old life. Trapper would crush that. 

“Y-y-yo-ou c-c-can-n-n’t g-g-ge-e-e-et-t-t c-c-c-a-a-u-ught!” Dwight panicked. “Y-y-y-ou-”

“Shh,” Jake took his face in his hands and told him to relax. “I’m going to be with you every step of the way. I’ve faced and won trials more bleak than this one. We’ll be fine.”

Jake’s voice was firm. It held belief in what he said, and Dwight couldn’t tell if Jake meant it or was a great actor. He nodded anyway. 

“O-o-k-kay, f-f-follow-w-ing y-y-our l-lea-ad.”

Jake waited another moment until Dwight’s breath came out relatively even and they began the tedious crawl towards the first generator. Jake tried to call to his crows, but there were none this round. The forest was absolutely silent and when they got to work on the first gen, Dwight winced at the loud metal clanking. 

“I-i-it’s s-s-so l-l-loud!” Dwight said to Jake, who was focused on his wires. 

“Just keep going. You’re gonna feel like you want to run. Do not stop until I tell you to,” Jake said. “No matter how scared you get, don’t run. I won’t let you get hurt. Trust me.”

Dwight gulped. He couldn’t give a verbal affirmation, but slunk back to his side of the gen to start tapping wires together. Who knew such a boring task could be so terrifying. Dwight really did want to run every five seconds. He felt time drew to a slug’s pace. He kept stealing glances over to Jake, catching his studious face and catching how he was also straining his ears for sound above the loud gen. 

Dwight knew that the Entity basically flooded them with adrenaline when a killer came within a certain radius. At least, that’s how Meg described it. But with the innate knowledge he’d gotten, he knew to look out for a distinct heartbeat. 

“Come on.”

Dwight only started to feel the terror radius when Jake was pulling him halfway through the trees and brush, lowering him behind a boulder. The heartbeat remained. Trapper bashed the generator and screamed incoherently. It was more of a beastly howl than anything human. Dwight went pale white. His legs gave out and he fell from his kneeling position into the dirt. He cried. 

“I-I-I c-c-ca-a-an-t-t-t-t-” Dwight shook like a leaf. Jake crouched down to hold him and started to rock back and forth. 

“You need to stay here. I’m going to go around and start a few generators so he can’t pinpoint our exact location.” Jake said. 

Dwight shook his head violently. “N-no!” 

“And if I get hooked,” Jake pressed on as if he hadn’t heard. “I need you to let the Entity take me.”

“S-sto-op! W-w-why-?” Dwight was nearly blubbering now. He didn’t want to exist. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t he just spend one day happy with a guy he liked?

“Because I don’t think you could unhook me without Trapper catching you,” Jake said bluntly. “You know what the Hatch is, right?”

“S-S-S-ST-T-TOP!” Dwight nearly shoved Jake off of him, but his arms were too weak from nerves. 

“The Entity would have left you to do this trial on your own,” Jake said bitterly. He reached out and drew Dwight in for a fleeting hug. “It sucks we didn’t get to know each other very well, but if we make it out of this together, I’ll visit your lean-to, okay? And you’ll visit my tree.”

Dwight nodded, wanting another hug but too afraid to initiate it himself. He nodded instead. “P-pl-lease d-d-on’t-t-t g-g-get c-caught-t-t.”

“I’ll be careful. There’s no crows here so I think you can stay low. Stay in this area and I’ll come back.”

Dwight nodded again. It was all he could do. Jake gave him a forced smile. 

“I can promise you one thing. I’m not going through those exit gates if you don’t.” 

He turned, staying crouched as he stepped into the trees. Dwight leaned back against the boulder, face starting to heat despite his tears and silent sobs. 

Chapter Text

Evan felt a rush of excitement and anxiety he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was almost too much to bear, and when he found the third generator pumping hot but without a single survivor around, he thrashed the area until he felt a bit calmer. 

The Entity had woken him up from his sleep, suddenly declaring a trial was about the start. Trapper hadn’t been in the mood. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t brutalize these four survivors. The Entity only gave him so much time each trial though, and it was hard to keep being creative in horrifying punishments.

But then the deity had told him a few extra rules. Rules that got his heart throbbing in feral excitement. 

‘This trial, there are only two survivors. Your old pet, and a friend he’s made. Whoever you sacrifice to me, you keep.’

Trapper kept mulling over the words. His eyes scanned the dark horizon of his home for the familiar, dirty white shirt and the gleam of cracked glasses. He had no clue who the second survivor could be, but Trapper would never pass up the opportunity for another pet. His cock throbbed and he wanted to take care of his business right out in the open. 

The fantasies were getting too much. Trapper composed himself and started another march through the gens. He grinned wide under his mask when he caught the movement through the trunks. He deftly made a turn and walked with the unwitting survivor before sprinting forward. It was Jake - an annoying, stealthy veteran. 

Trapper grinned even wider. He let out a loud, bellowing laugh and Jake’s pace picked up a miniscule faster. He was sprinting wildly towards a wooden shack. Trapper slowed to let him run ahead, knowing he’d set several bear traps around that place. 

Jake, though, still had enough sense to watch his feet. Trapper growled, excitement souring a bit as the survivor made it the shack. Trapper rushed forward, made a guess as to where Jake would pop out of, and dashed to the window on the left wall. He crushed when no one vaulted through and he ran inside to find no red scratch marks either. 

Trapper fumed. Survivors were usually predictable. Jake was a runner. Not as daring as David, but hiding wasn’t common. Trapper eyed the three lockers around him. He frowned. Though it would be unlike the survivor….

Trapper opened one. He slammed it shut when he found it empty. He turned, stalked to the other, and grabbed the handle. He made a motion, pretending to open it. Behind him, the hinges of the last locker swung out. Trapper spun around and threw his cleaver at the wide-eyed man. Jake screamed as his shoulder was slashed. He tried to run to the window, but Trapper was too fast, and caught the back of his jacket before he could escape. Trapper shouted victoriously and threw him into the floorboards. Jake tried to crawl away, but a heavy knee pinned the small of his back. 

“The Entity must be really favoring me if I get two sluts today,” Trapper growled.

“You pig! You’re not getting him,” Jake spat back. 

Trapper laughed, grabbing Jake’s hair and wretching his head back. “Do you really think Dwight is going to fix five generators all by himself?” the killer sneered. “This trial is going to be too easy, now that I got my hands on you.”

Suddenly, there was an explosion. They both looked towards the small plume of smoke and fire, signalling a missed skill check. Another happened a second after. Jake cringed helplessly while Trapper quickly got to his feet. 

“There’s my lost boy,” Trapper said. “I’ll bet he missed me.”

He hefted Jake over his shoulder. The survivor thrashed, trying to buck off. He shouted and screamed too, trying to alert Dwight to his location. But Trapper didn’t seem to care. He didn’t try to shush Jake. He just took him where the generator went off, and dumped him on the ground. Jake scrambled onto his back, staring angrily up at the killer. Trapper tapped the blade of his cleaver. 

“I hear you’ve made a friend of my Dwight. Do you think he’d come running if you started screaming?”

Jake gulped. Dread pooled in his belly. His mind couldn’t think of anything spiteful to say. Not when he was being yanked forward by his ankle, struggling while the cleaver swung down at his leg. It bit easily through fabric and flesh. Not enough to mortally wound. Jake was released. He groaned and tried to crawl away. Another hack to his leg. He couldn’t help but scream this time. Then another cut. Another scream. 

Trapper stood over the whimpering figure, cleaver red. 

“Come out here, pet! Come out to your Master or your friend here suffers until you do!”

Trapper accented his threat with a boot to Jake’s wounds. He pressed down and Jake couldn’t stifle his pained yelp. It echoed sharply through the estate. Jake grit his teeth to hold in any more cries. Trapper’s cleaver made sure he was loud. Jake suffered through the pain in his legs and back, unaware of anything but the killer and his agonizing presence. 

Then Trapper stopped tormenting him, his breath heavy and his body looming like an excited wolf. Through the blood in his eyes, Jake saw Dwight standing nervously at the edge of the clearing. He was trembling, sobbing as he pleaded with Trapper to stop hurting him. Jake’s heart clenched. 

Evan, however, was ecstatic. He hadn’t seen Dwight in so long, he’d missed his toy badly. Evan grinned like a fool. Though he was still furious and had plotted all the possible ways to make Dwight never think of leaving again, Evan felt an extreme fondness for the cowering man before him. Like a cat with a wounded mouse it just can’t bear to eat. Trapper stood and kept Jake pinned with a boot. The survivor shouted for Dwight to run. Evan put a stop to that by shoving his face into the earth with a heavy thud. 

“Dwight. Come.” Evan ordered, holding out a hand and pointing at his feet. 

“N-no! Run!” Jake, as weak as he was, shoved back at Evan’s foot. “Please, don’t- Gah!” 

He fell dazed with a kick to the head. Evan turned back to his pet. He held out a hand and repeated the command. When Dwight went to take a step, Evan growled. 

“No. Come here like a good boy would,” Evan said. 

Dwight started to cry harder. He got down on both knees and dropped his hands into the cold dirt. His face flushed in shame as he crawled forward on all fours. Evan felt Jake fighting again, shoving back with little grunts of anger. He too was starting to cry. 

Evan’s body was flooded with euphoria. He loved how his new, wild pet thrashed under him, and his (somewhat) loyal boy was currently crawling up to his feet, gingerly settling his timid face into Trapper’s outstretched palm. Dwight must have expected a hit, because he flinched. Trapper roughly grabbed his neck and yanked him forward. Dwight struggled for only a second before settling against the hard, metal strewn body. 

“You’ve caused me a lot of grief, boy, you know that?” Evan asked. 

His grip turned harder. Dwight whined and was forced to look up at the dreadful mask. Evan couldn’t help it. The man’s quivering lips and watery eyes were too much. He pulled his body flush to his and ground into him. 

“Lord, I’ve missed your touch,” Evan growled. 

Dwight whimpered in his embrace, shrieking as he was suddenly hefted up onto a barbed shoulder. Below, Jake was picked up by his pant’s belt loop. The man thrashed, but was hardly any weight at all. He screamed in anger and fear, while Dwight accepted his fate with shaky sobs. 

Evan whistled all the way to the basement hooks. 

Chapter Text

Dwight was in hell. 

Just an hour ago, he was hanging out with Jake, feeling normal for once. Then the Entity dragged them into a trial, ending with Dwight being forced to watch as Jake struggled on the hook. The man screamed as he was impaled and his darkened corpse was taken to the sky. 

“And one sacrifice to go… How did I get so lucky?” Trapper laughed, almost giddy. He turned, whistling as he took Dwight to the next hook. 

“I-I-I’m s-s-sor-r-ry, M-m-mas-s-st-t-ter-!” Dwight blubbered, hoping to ease his coming punishment. 

“Oh you will be,” Trapper warned. Dwight’s body racked with hard sobs. “But I’m feeling grateful today. Maybe you can earn back my trust, pet.”

Dwight screamed as his shoulder was hooked. He thrashed, but didn’t try to hold off the claws as they came down on him. His legs kicked out weakly. All he could see, as his vision faded, was Trapper’s grinning mask. 


When he next awoke, Dwight was in a tiny, dark room. His body ached from the bone-deep chill. The stone floor sapped any warmth from his body. When he shifted, the heavy weight of his collar hung noticeably from the back of his neck. Dwight couldn’t help his panicked whine. From across the room, someone heard him. 

“Dwight? Is that you?” Jake’s fearful voice asked. 

“Y-yeah,” Dwight managed to squeak out. His eyes adjusted to the dark, and he could see the other, collared across the room. 

“Oh thank God,” Jake breathed. “I can’t reach you, this chain is too short. I was scared you weren’t in here.”

Dwight pushed himself forward, and true to Jake’s word, the chain at his neck pulled taut. He reached out. His anxiety started to sky rocket. His terror was escalating to heights he hadn’t felt since his first few years here. He reached out further, nearly choking himself to reach another human. Jake was so close, but even as he reached out and their finger tips nearly touched, the chains pulled them back. 

“I-I-I d-d-d-don’t-t-t-t t-t-thi-i-ink I-I-I c-c-can d-d-do t-t-this!” Dwight nearly shouted. “I-I-I c-can’t!” 

“It’s okay, I’m here, Dwight,” Jake tried to calm, but his voice was shaky and scared too. “You’re not alone.”

Dwight shook his head. His leash clanked loudly over the stone. “H-h-he h-h-has y-y-ou t-t-to! T-t-that-t-ts not-t-t-t a g-g-ood t-t-thi-ing!” 

Jake was quiet. Dwight had no idea if he had something to say to that, because above their heads, heavy boots were purposefully pounding down the stairs. Dwight backed up into the corner of the room out of old habit. He realized, as his back hit chilled stone, that he still had his clothes on. It was a tiny relief, outlived by the sound of a key unlocking their prison door. It opened slowly, deliberately, and Dwight buried his hands under his glasses, blocking the dim light that pooled into the cell. 

The overbearing presence of his Master was impossible to ignore. So was the hand that grabbed his arm, hefting Dwight up with a shrill cry. He could hear Jake rustling in his own chains. His shouts were muffled by Dwight’s pounding heart and Trapper’s low, gravely voice. 

“I don’t think you understand just how angry I was that you left,” he growled. 

Dwight could only whimper, fear and guilt flooding him. He tried to stammer out an apology, but Trapper gave him a rough shake, the words crumbling on his tongue. 

“Don't speak. I don't want to hear another apology. But I’m in a rather good mood today, so I won't punish you for forgetting our rules. But you better refresh yourself, pet. You’re going to have to help me train the new member of our little family. And if you’re a good boy for Master, maybe I’ll go easy on you both… You’re going to show Jake here how to properly act, you hear?”

Dwight was dropped back to his knees, where he nodded vigorously. 

“God, it’s good to have you back home,” Trapper breathed. 

He knelt, pulling Dwight back into his arms and petting him heavily. His tie came off, and then his buttons were undone, one by one. Jake was screaming insults and curses. Trapper ignored him, taking his time to undress the quaking, but unresisting, man. He kept his pants on, but tossed aside his top garments. Goosebumps ran over every inch of bare skin. 

“Wait!” Jake’s voice turned quaky and broken. Not at all like during the trial, during their capture and wait in this cell. “D-don’t. Please, don’t do this to him.”

“Aw, my boy made a good friend during his time away, didn’t he?” Trapper asked, tone mocking. “I do feel guilty, leaving here all alone when I have work to do. You two will keep each other company.”

Dwight was slid over Trapper’s lap. The killer spread his legs in between Dwight’s, opening them up and showing off his clothed crotch. Jake glared hot daggers at Trapper, not daring to look down. 

“Come on, Jakey, give it a good look. You’re gonna get well acquainted with this.” Trapper reached down, grabbing a handful of Dwight’s bulge. He gave it a hard yank and Dwight tried to kick out his splayed legs. 

“Stop. Fucking christ, stop it,” Jake was muttering. 

He’d looked away completely, and his voice had lowered to a defeated tone. He knew there was no point out. No way to help Dwight. Not right now at least. Not in this moment. Trapper gave Dwight’s cock another twist and ordered Jake to look. 


“Hear that, Dwight?” Trapper asked, mask resting on the smaller man’s shoulder. “We have a disobedient little mutt on our hands."

His free hand cupped Dwight’s face and forced him to look straight ahead. Dwight did so without complaint, but his face was twisted in horror and embarrassment. The hand fondling him started to undo the zipper. Dwight couldn’t help his small shriek - a moment of lost self-control. His soft cock was tugged from his underwear. His face couldn’t have been redder. 

“M-mast-t-er!” Dwight begged. “N-not i-i-in f-f-fr-r-r-ont-t-t of h-h-him-” He choked as Trapper yanked his chain back. The collar dug into the front of his throat. He clawed at it, struggling to regain his breath as Trapper refused to lessen the pressure. 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I please. You sure have gotten mouthy, haven’t you?” Trapper looked at a seething Jake. “I bet you’re to blame, huh? Ruining all my hard work.”

“Stop that!” Jake barked. His fire had returned, but only partly. “Let him breath! You’re killing him!” 

Trapper paused the moment, then reoriented himself so that Dwight was on the ground and he was standing over the top of him. The chain was still pulled taut though, and Dwight resumed choking, unable to sit up with a foot between his shoulders. 

“The Entity will just bring him back here,” Trapper said darkly. He pulled even harder. “But if you want him to live, then you need to show me some obedience. Come over here and lick my boots."

Jake made a revolted face, but it quickly fell when Dwight made a strangled noise. He started to get up. 

“You know the rules by now, bitch. All fours. And I expect you to do a good job,” Trapper ordered. He held his foot out a bit farther than Dwight would have been able to reach. 

Jake begrudgingly got on his hands and knees. Dwight didn’t look like he had much time left, so Jake started a shameful shuffle across the floor. The outstretched boot was ‘just’ within reach. The toe was covered in dirt and grass, and other possible things Jake didn’t want to consider. He reached out with a straining neck, the collar putting uncomfortable pressure on his jugular. 

“I’m waiting, pet,” Trapper said. 

The toe nudged his cheek, smearing it with dirt. Jake stuck out his tongue and took a tentative lick. Trapper was impatient though and bent down to grab the back of the survivor’s head. He smashed his lips against it. Jake spluttered and tried to pull back. 

“Lick it like a dog,” Trapper growled. “Lap at it. Act grateful for the chance to clean your Master’s boots.”

‘You’re not my Master,’ Jake thought. 

But he didn’t voice the rebellious thought aloud. He could see Dwight out of the corner of his eye, now free of the pulling chain and laying with his head to the floorboards. He was gasping, his tear-streaked face looking to Jake in sympathetic horror. Jake didn’t want to see him hurt anymore than he had to, and when Trapper let go, he forced himself to take longer licks. 

“Act more eager,” Trapper said. His voice had lost its edge though, and Jake cringed to hear lust thick in between his words. “Lick it until they shine for me.”

Jake bit in any insults he had cooked up and did as he was told. He looked away from Dwight as he got to work taking long laps, purposefully bobbing his head as he did in a way he thought might please Trapper. He knew Dwight had a punishment coming for his escape. Might as well try to put the killer in a good mood.  His stomach turned when Trapper groaned, deep and lusty, above him. 

“That’s a good slut. You’re gonna fit in nicely around here.”

Jake tried not to let those words affect him too much.

Chapter Text

“Hey, are you okay?”

The answer to the question was obvious. But Dwight knew that Jake was just trying to fill in the silence. It had settled heavily over them ever since Trapper left. Dwight had always wondered what the killer did when he was away, and realized now that he was most likely preparing for the trial. He had seemed reluctant to go, making Jake clean off his other boot before promising to be back soon. 

And with a surprise, no less. 

Dwight hadn’t been able to look at Jake. Shame and embarrassment weighed heavily on his body. He also couldn’t stop thinking of whatever the “surprise” could be. It was going to be painful - or humiliating - he knew it. 

“Dwight? Dwight, please look at me,” Jake begged. 

His voice was weak and full of an equal amount of shame. Dwight still couldn’t look at him. Trapper had fondled him in front of Jake, for God’s sake! Who knew what else that maniac had planned?!

“Dwight,” Jake tried one last time. “I… I don’t want to be shut out. Please, I’m scared too.”

That finally got the man to unfurl. If only a little. He peeked up at Jake’s face, cloaked in shadow and pulled as close as his collar would allow. Dwight fully untucked himself from his huddled form and crawled as close as he could too. The two leaned with their backs to the wall, arms outstretched but not touching. Dwight’s fingers ran over the cold stone, tears leaking down his cheeks. His shirt and tie had been taken. He shivered and tried to wrap his arms around himself to hold in the warmth. 

“I-I-I’m s-s-or-ry,” Dwight said. 

“I know you won’t believe me when I tell you that it’s not your fault,” Jake said tiredly. “But I’ll tell you anyway. It’s not your fault. We’ll escape, but… but it might take time.”

“H-h-he’s an ex-x-xpert-t-t at t-t-r-rap-ping and h-hunt-ting,” Dwight said. “I-I-I’ve o-only h-h-had one ch-ch-chanc-ce to esc-c-c-cape…” 

Dwight trailed off, his tone hinting to something dark and haunting. Jake went quiet beside him, internally frustrated that he couldn’t grab the other’s hand. 

“Even if we can’t leave, at least not yet, two is better than one, right?” Jake tried to find some positivity, but his tone was struggling to match his words. “You’re not alone. Misery loves company.”

“I-I….” Dwight fumbled for his words, more than usual. He let out an awkward, shaky laugh. It sounded more sad than humorous. “I-I-I f-f-feel-l b-b-bad-d-d agr-reeing-g-g w-wit-th th-that…"

“Hehe. That’s okay, I think I can forgive you,” Jake said, before suddenly sitting up. “Here, let me try something.”

He fumbled at his jacket, pulling it off so he could grab a hold of his long sleeve beneath. Dwight blushed fiercely as Jake removed the garments, his hard abs peeking out. It made him incredibly self-conscious of his own, softer body. Jake ripped a long strip off a sleeve before putting the shirt back on. Then he tossed his jacket to Dwight. 

“Take this, you need it,” he said, tossing it over without waiting for an answer. Dwight felt bad, but was also freezing. He slipped it on and the smell and warmth of the crow-talker flooded over him. Dwight’s lips twitched in an involuntary smile. He hid it when Jake tossed something else at him. 

The torn off sleeve, just long enough for him to grab the end, and Jake to grab the other. 

“There. It’s not exactly real contact, but it’s something.”

“T-thanks,” Dwight said.

He gripped the end of his rag more tightly, feeling better. Jake hummed beside him, holding tight to his own end. The connection helped Dwight give into the exhaustion that had been creeping up on him so heavily. His eyes closed and he fell under. 


“Aw, now ain’t that cute~” Came Trapper’s teasing tone from out of nowhere. 

Dwight snapped awake. He was still holding the rag, and his grip turned knuckle-white as he looked up into the mask of his owner. Trapper was kneeling, watching both him and an already alert Jake from a few feet away. The crow-talker was glowering darkly, stiff with shock. He must have just woken up too. Dwight then noticed that the killer had a bag with him. That was never a good sign. 

“You two sure like each other, huh?” Trapper asked, hooking the rag with his finger and tugging it from them. Dwight gave a whine, reaching out instinctively. He expected a strike for that, but instead, Trapper chuckled and twirled the rag around his finger. 

“I’ve been thinking of some fun ideas while I was setting up my bear traps… but I think I thought of something more fun. Especially for you two.”

Dwight trembled. Trapper had that shiver in his voice that meant he was really excited. And when he was excited, he was horny. And by his tone, he was really horny. Jake looked like he wanted to say something spiteful. Dwight caught his attention with a shake of his head, begging him to be quiet with desperate eyes. He relaxed when Jake visibly settled himself down. 

Trapper chuckled again. “See, Dwight? You’re already being a good influence. We’ll get this new bitch trained in no time.”

And just like that, Jake was bearing his teeth, hackles raised against the taunting words. 

“That’s right, pet,” Trapper said. “I’ll help you get all that pent-up frustration out. But first, since you two seem to want to be so close…”

Jake reached out in vain as Dwight was dragged towards the killer. The man went willingly, letting Trapper slip off his jacket and then the heavy chain connected to the wall. Dwight’s grip, though weak, stayed on the jacket sleeve. 

“P-p-ple-ease, l-let-t-t m-me k-keep it-t-t,” Dwight begged. 

Trapper paused. Then he yanked it harshly the rest of the way, laughing at Dwight’s broken whine. 

“Stop crying over it,” Trapper ordered, throwing the jacket in the corner. “You’ll get it back after you give me a show. I’m pent up, and I need a release.”

Dwight nodded. “I-i-i c-c-an d-d-o i-i-it a-alone-” he stammered, reaching out for his Master’s crotch.

Trapper gave a loud bark of a laugh, snatching his wrist and spinning a white-faced Dwight around so that his back was flush to the killer’s stomach. They were facing Jake, and Dwight tried to bury his head in Trapper’s shoulder to escape his exposure. 

“I appreciate the eagerness, pet, but I want to take things slow…” Trapper’s legs pulled Dwight’s apart once more. His arms were pinned behind his back and tied off with the ripped sleeve. “I have you back, and I’m going to savor each moment I break you back in.” He licked a stripe down Dwight’s neck, scarred lips peeking from under his mask. 

“And you-” Trapper pointed to Jake. “Crawl here, in front of your slut friend. And a fair warning for both of you. Ignore my commands, and I’m cutting off some balls tonight.” He made a point of grab roughly at Dwight’s crotch. The man screamed in fear, Trapper’s metal strewn hand already feeling like a dull blade. 

“D-don’t-t-t! P-pl-lease!!”

“Oh, Dwight,” Trapper removed his hand and gave the trembling man’s cheek a few light slaps. “You’re reactions are the best. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.” He ground into his ass, accenting his promise with a low growl. “You make the best sounds like that.”

Jake had started to crawl forward and stiffened at those words. Trapper noticed and barked at him to hurry up. 

“Come on, slut. Get over here, between his legs. Yeah, just like that…”

Neither Jake nor Dwight looked at each other as Jake was directed to sit up on his knees. He was very aware of Dwight’s bare torso and his own thin shirt. Trapper grabbed Jake’s arm and pulled him forward. He fell flush against the other survivor’s chest. Dwight’s face was cherry red, twisting and turning and trying to avoid making contact with Jake’s. 

“Stop moving,” Trapper snapped. His voice was eager and breathy. “Look at him.”

Dwight shakily turned. His nose brushed across Jake’s and he felt like he might implode with heat. Jake was looking at him with a stony expression. His shoulders were rigid. Trapper grabbed him by the hair, and his eyes went wide before slamming shut as their lips met. Teeth clacked together. It hurt and Dwight wished this wasn’t the way their first kiss happened. Trapper let go, but when Jake tried to pull back, Dwight was jerked forward. Trapper slowly began to grind into his ass, his hard-on starting to make him antsy. 

“Kiss. You wanted to be close, so your Master is giving you the chance. Kiss and make your Master happy.”

Dwight was the one to initiate the kiss. He leaned forward and grabbed Jake’s lips in a desperate, hungry suck, biting him in. Fear fueled him. His endless years as the Trapper’s pet came flooding back to him in that moment. This was how he survived. Jake had to learn that. Luckily, the other had responded eagerly to Dwight’s probing tongue, and his eyes fluttered as he leaned in. Trapper reached around to grab each of Jake’s arms and press him closer to Dwight. He kept humping his loyal pet, making their kissing sloppy and imprecise. 

“Good boys,” Trapper groaned. “You see what happens when you keep me happy? ”

Trapper gave one last grunt, and stiffened. He crouched low over Dwight, dropping Jake and wrapping his iron grip around his favored pet. His hips gave a few last pumps and he moaned with his orgasm. Dwight was frozen stiff as Trapper rode out his high. Jake silently crawled back under them, fingers coming up to curl around Dwight’s ankle. He gave him a reassuring squeeze. But Trapper’s hand came down, gripping Jake’s wrist in a bruising grip and tossing it aside. 

“You’re not allowed to touch him unless I allow you to.”

Dwight whimpered. Trapper sat up a little, arm locked around his middle and a hand petting at his sweaty head. 

“But keep pleasing me, and maybe you’ll earn certain privileges.”

Trapper kept petting him until he started to feel hard again. The man tried to squirm in protest, but quickly stopped when Trapper’s hips started to move. There was no convincing him otherwise once he decided what he wanted to do. Jake’s hand lay, twitching and frustrated, on the ground. 

Then, for once, things worked in their favor. The air in the basement changed. Dwight and Jake both felt a very faint feeling of needing to fix gens. Dwight had never felt it before, and thought it must have been triggered by his trial runs. Trapper sensed it too. 

“Damn it!” He grunted in anger and sat up, arm still holding Dwight. He carried him back to his wall and locked his collar to the chain. The sleeve was unwrapped from his wrists.

“Oh well. I should never squander the chance to punish those rats for stealing you from me.”

He lifted his mask, and a scarred lip pressed down on Dwight’s head. 

“I’ll be back, pet.”

He left his mystery bag on the floor, out of their reach and locked the door behind him. Dwight immediately scrambled over to Jake. The crow-talker did the same (though a bit more hesitantly). Neither wanted to talk about what happened. Dwight, because he was mortified by his own arousal caused by it. And Jake, because he was just happy that Dwight wasn’t shutting him out.

They returned the crumpled sleeve between them and laid their heads back on the stone. They waited in tense, but companionable silence. 

This time, Dwight couldn’t sleep. 

Chapter Text

The hum of a generator led Trapper towards his prey. He readied his cleaver. The survivors had missed a few skill checks already, and Trapper allowed them to keep working uninterrupted. He’d set up bear-traps around the area, and hoped he’d flush someone into them. 

There were three survivors. They left red scratches in the earth as they scattered like mice. Trapper’s eyes scanned their backs, taking a split second to decide

The excitement of bagging his hunt fueled him. He couldn’t help but laugh in victory as his cleaver hit its mark. The pesky healer of the group - Claudette - screamed and pushed herself to sprint to a scattered maze of wood and barrels. From behind, Trapper heard someone get caught in his traps. He rushed Claudette, blade to her back as he downed her. She sobbed in pain as she was hefted over his shoulder. Trapper took his time to wander towards his triggered trap. 

There! His eyes lit up in excitement. The survivor with her leg caught was Nea. Nea - the bitch who stole Dwight from him! Trapper almost dropped Claudette right then in excitement. He’d only gotten to punish the bitch once for her theft. 

“Gah! No!” Claudette screamed in panic before her shoulder was hooked. “Nea, run!” 

She grabbed ahold of the blood-soaked claw and could only watch in horror as Trapper descended on her struggling friend. Other two survivors were nearly across the map, and even if they came in time, Trapper had no intention of leaving the hook - or freeing Nea. 

The Entity didn’t like him drawing out deaths unless it wanted them. The stupid diety loved its game. Adored its rules, even. Black claws poked up from the earth, curiously brushing aside soil and grass around Nea. She stopped struggling to eye them warily, head snapping up to Trapper as he grabbed her neck. She groaned as the bear trap pulled back into her ankle. Sweat was beading at her brow. The pain was a lot, but she’d grown tolerant to torture over the years. She spit on the killer’s mask

“My day just keeps getting better,” Trapper said. Nea tensed, unused to hearing him speak. “First I get back my pet, and a little something extra. And now I get to hurt the bitch who took him in the first place.”

“Y-you have them?” Nea asked in horror, voice strained. “Fuck you! Give them back!”

Trapper growled and struck her in the side of the head. 

“They’re my fuck toys now. After I get done spilling your guts, I’m gonna go break in my new dog,” he said cruelly.
“He’s a wild one. In need of a good taming.” 

Nea scratched and clawed at Trapper’s arms. She wasn’t trying to escape. She was trying to hurt him. The killer laughed, despite the shallow cuts beading red along his skin. 

“Fuck you! Give them back! Give them back!!” Her teeth started to bite, trying to rip flesh where her nails just couldn’t do enough damage. The woman was fuming, and her helplessness only fueled that rage. “You’re a monster!” 

Her anger made Trapper chuckle. He gave her neck another yank and she screamed as the skin and flesh of her ankle began to rip. She bit down on her cheek and directed a gaze of pure hate at the killer. Trapper watched that expression, wanting to see what it looked like when he pulled her foot clean off. But from behind, footsteps were running towards them. Trapper assumed a survivor was trying to get to a hooked Claudette.

Instead, it was a survivor with a very large piece of splintered wood. The sharp end was aimed at his stomach. It almost impaled him, but Trapper grabbed the end before it could. His hand was torn nearly in half as the wood shredded his palm. The survivor who attacked him - David - was thrown to the ground with it. He rolled to his feet. 

From behind, Quentin had unhooked Claudette. Trapper grabbed his fallen cleaver with his left hand, and took a violent, sloppy swipe. David stumbled backwards, calling Trapper a few colorful words before throwing a stone at his mask. It cracked hard against his face, and Trapper’s head ran in confusion as the survivors swarmed around him. 

Nea gasped, and he turned to see her escape into the brush. David was running with the others, and the trails of blood and scratches made it hard for Trapper to choose his target. His hand throbbed and his anger started him after David. The man was running alongside Quentin. Trapper’s cleaver didn’t care which one it sunk into. 

“Why are you runnin’?!” Trapper called after them. “Wouldn’t you like to hear how Jake is doing?!”

Quentin stumbled, losing a few feet. David jerked him forward, both shooting wide eyes back at their pursuer. 

“Don’t fucking listen to him, just keep moving,” he heard David say. 

“Come on, boy! Don’t you miss your friend?” Trapper asked. “Come here and maybe I’ll let you see him!” 

Trapper felt his heart rate escalate as he closed in. David slowed a bit and fell in between Quentin and the killer, shoving the teenager forward and letting Trapper hack into his side. He went down. The wound was deep. Too deep for a first hit.

A black aura began to circle around them. Whispers followed the digging claws that appeared. Trapper gave them a scowl. He waved his arm at the groaning man. 

“Come on, let me bend the rules again,” Trapper urged. “Just this round, and I’ll play every trial after this like an eager apostle. I’ll show you just how much I appreciate your gifts.”

The claws bobbed a moment, reaching out over David who watched the scene in visible confusion. He kicked out at a claw when one got too close, and it lashed out, seemingly to laugh as David flinched. The tip stopped just short of his face, then sunk back to the ground, wanting to wait and see what Trapper had planned. 

The last time this killer bent the rules, Quentin’s emotions had been almost too rich to eat. Trapper always could wring a special flavor from his victims. Dwight’s was the sweetest. And it’d been really enjoying Jake’s new flavors dripping from him at the MacMillan Estate. The Entity wondered what Trapper could squeeze from David.  

“So what?” David asked through grit teeth. “You were just… given our friends? Like rewards? Like fucking things ?”

“Yes,” Trapper said, almost proudly. He put weight on David’s leg and pressed down. “I own them now. They’re my possessions. My things. And tonight, I’m going to show Jake what his new life entails. Do you know what that means?”

David glowered. “No. Fucking enlighten me.”

“I’m going to fuck him in the ass while he begs me to stop. And I’m going to teach him that my possessions don’t get to refuse me.”

Trapper felt delight at David’s expression. It was always so hard and stony. He even pulled off the tough guy look when he was hooked. But Trapper had seen how close he and Jake were during trials. He enjoyed the paleness of the man’s skin and the disbelief widening his eyes. 

“That’s not… that’s-” David couldn’t find his words. 

Trapper lifted his blade, David’s fumbling voice turning to a scream as the blade bit into his leg. Trapper had no intention of letting the other survivors repair David, but he also had no intention of hooking anyone. 

Not yet. 

In the back of his head, he felt the Entity purr at all the creatively dark ideas racing through his head. David’s screams fueled his hacking. Soon, the man was trying to crawl away with two bloody stumps where his legs had been. Trapper let him crawl. He’d easily track the blood, and a medkit wouldn’t be able to help. 

Wiping the blood from his cleaver on the grass, Trapper stood and raced into the trees where a gen went off. He was ready to enact the bloodbath in his head. 

Chapter Text

Quentin was confused. Well, no. He wasn’t confused. He knew Trapper was breaking the rules again. He was well past confusion and on the verge of a panic attack. He had been trying to fix gens until David was hooked, but the man had kept on screaming. 

He wouldn’t stop. 

When the generator blew in his face, hands too shaky to do the skill checks properly, Quentin hightailed it into a hiding spot. Claudette screamed. Then Nea. They were somewhere in the East, and judging by Nea’s continued cries, Trapper had caught at least one of them. She, like David, kept on screaming for several minutes. When it finally stopped, Quentin was hiding in a locker, cowering with his hands in his hair. His arms throbbed from the last time a trial unraveled like this. 

“Oh fuck - oh fuck-” Quentin tried to think of what to do. He needed to fix the gens! But David was down. Nea was down and both he and Claudette were injured. And Trapper’s words about having Jake? Quentin swallowed thickly and peeked out of the locker. 

If they were here, they’d be in that basement that Meg found, right? Quentin slowly crawled out of his hiding spot and made his way where he thought the right building was. The Manor. He had no doubt that he’d die before he was able to even think up a rescue plan, but he’d missed his friends. One that was like an older brother to him, and one that he was just beginning to really bond with. He couldn’t just sit, doing nothing and waiting for a gruesome death. 

Realizing he might have picked up some daring traits from Nea, Quentin was able to sneak into the manor without notice. It was worn and decrepit, smelling of musk. He held in a sneeze as he tried to find the right hallway. His footsteps felt too loud. They wound around the lower levels until he found the right door. The one that was always locked, that led deeper into the manor bowels. It was strewn across with two layers of locks. Quentin’s hands futilely tried to mess with the large padlock. It was almost too heavy to lift. He shook the black chains like something good might come of it. 

“Please, why is this happening?” he asked no particular god. Not even the deity. “Why?”

“There you are, you little shit!” 

Quentin’s heart leapt to his throat. Trapper’s red light was on top of him. The survivor barely got to turn his head before Trapper snatched him by the back of the collar, yanking him into a strong arm. 

“Did you really think you could get past my locks? Without a key?”

Quentin felt tears starting to form. He was terrified and could only let out a shaky sob. 

“Well?!” Trapper raised his voice and gave him a shake. 

“N-no! No!” Quentin sobbed. This was too much. “I-I just w-ant back my friends!” 

“Aw, is that all?” came the mocking reply. Quentin’s neck was caged in a chokehold. Trapper started to unlock the chains. “It’s not like the other survivors can escape, hehe. Fine. Let’s have a little visit then.”

He dragged Quentin down the stairs. 

Jake was surprised by how well he slept. Constant terror and paranoia had turned him into an insomniac. But Trapper had literally drained everything (physically and emotionally) from him. At least, it felt that way, and it hadn’t even been a single night. He wasn’t sure actually. It could have been a day, two, a week. This room made time impossible to gauge. 

He’d tried to listen to the trial he knew was going on above their heads, but he heard nothing. The stone only gave him silence. Every once in a while, he thought he heard the explosion of a generator, but his straining ears were unreliable. Jake kept thinking he could hear a crow too. When he stopped trying to listen, it went away. Sleep came quickly after that. 


He had just woken again in the dark. He didn’t know what it was that roused him. It had sounded like rattling chains, and maybe shouting, but he shrugged it off as his tired mind. 

Dwight was still snoring softly next to him, his fingers loose around the other end of the sleeve. Jake rubbed his thumb over his end, pretending he was petting Dwight’s actual palm. The action soothed him (if only a little) and he tried to close his eyes for more sleep. Had he been alert, he’d have noticed that the trial was taking a particularly long time. Time only ended by the ominous turn of the door’s locks. Jake immediately tensed. He felt Dwight wake up beside him. 

“I’m here, I’m right here,” he said. Jake knew very well that Dwight wouldn’t take too much comfort in it, but it helped him too. If Jake didn’t have Dwight here, he’d probably have gotten his teeth kicked in by now. The threat of the other man getting punished had kept him from experiencing a lot of pain. That, and his snores had been nice. 

When Trapper opened the door though, Jake lost any calm he had. His heart clenched painfully when he saw the big brown eyes of Quentin, scared shitless from where he hung in Trapper’s arms. He was shoved to the ground, falling to his knees and laying there, trembling. 

“This little rat here was trying to sneak in,” Trapper growled. “He wanted to have a visit, and like the nice owner I am, I thought you’d want a playdate too.”

“He’s not a part of this,” Jake snapped. “He’s a fucking kid for God’s sake!” 

“Then maybe you’d better start being a good boy,” Trapper growled. He leaned forward, placing his boot on Quentin’s head and pressing it into the floor. Quentin whined in pain. Jake started to raise himself up, wanting to kick and bite at the killer. But Dwight gave the sleeve a small tug, and brought him back to reality. He gave Jake a tiny shake of the head, as if to say: We save Quentin by playing along. 

Jake reigned in his fury, pushing himself purposefully back against the wall to keep from leaping up. Trapper noticed and released Quentin’s head.

“Good. I see I have the leverage here,” Trapper chuckled at his own joke. “Both of you, pets. Turn around. Raise your asses in the air.”

Dwight gave a defeated, embarrassed moan as he turned. Jake took another second to process what he was told. He still hadn’t moved by the time Dwight’s ass was up and waiting. He gave Trapper a scowl, noticed the boot back on Quentin’s head, and slowly turned. His face began to turn hot red, even against the cold stone. Trapper knelt between them. His huge hands came to rest on each ass and his fingers began to work into their flesh. Jake closed his eyes tightly when the fingers dipped under his jeans and fondled his crack. Trapper’s breath grew heavy under his mask. He suddenly thrust their pants down. Jake bit into his forearm and closed his eyes. A finger was rubbing at his hole. It didn’t push in all the way, but there was enough pressure to make it burn. A high whine escaped his throat. 

“You like that?” Trapper asked huskily. “Come on, slut, you can be honest. Or would you rather your friend take your place?”

Jake shook his head, unable to communicate words. But his answer came across, because Trapper removed his finger from Dwight, placed a firm hand on Jake’s back. Then he shoved in two dry fingers at once. Jake tried to pull away with a scream. The burn was too much. 

“Gah! N-no! Stop!” 

From beside him, shaking with his face to the ground, Dwight sobbed in helplessness. His arm reached out to try and take Jake’s, but Trapper slapped it away. 

“What did I say about touching without permission?” he snapped. Then his voice softened, an idea coming to mind. “Alright, pet. You want to play? Take off your clothes. All of them. And you.” He looked at Quentin. “Watch the whole thing. I want you this burned into your memory, and then I want you to return to the others and tell them what you’ve seen.”

Quentin didn’t nod. He tried too, but his movements came off scared and jerky. 

Dwight kept removing his clothes. The tie first, then his shirt. His hands struggle to get off his belt. 

And Trapper continued to thrust his digits into Jake. Little breathy moans of pain started to escape with each push. His cock had grown hard during this foreplay, but now the killer was ready for some real fun. He eyed the bag he'd left behind, and ordered Quentin to bring it to him. The survivor did so, scuffling on dirty knees with his head down. Trapper tossed the bag by Jake's head and started to ruffle through it. 

It was time to break in his new pet. 

Chapter Text

Jake watched in disgust as Trapper removed something black and shiny from his bag. It had straps and a long body, one ending with a familiar mushroom shaped tip. Where the fuck did Trapper get a dildo from? 

“Now this is gonna look real nice between those feisty lips,” Trapper said. Jake tried to shake his head back and forth, but the straps were jerked over his face and the tip shoved past his jaw. He gagged as the rubber toy pushed its way to the back of his throat. Jake kept gagging, thinking he might vomit. Trapper’s hand held him still, leaving firm strokes down his spine. 

“There, there, slut. You gotta learn to control that. Dwight here is already an expert at sucking my cock. Ain’t had a gag reflex in years. We’ll get you there too.”

“Hmmpff!” Jake whined pitifully. He gagged again, and this time, the hand grabbed his neck with bruising force. It made not choking on his own spit even harder, and his eyes flashed wildly for an escape as the fingers resumed thrusting inside of his ass. He looked over at Dwight and didn’t look away. God, this was humiliating, but Dwight wouldn’t judge him. 

‘Just look at me if it gets too much,’ Dwight mouthed. 

It was hard to read his lips. They were trembling. 

But Jake just blinked twice to let him know he heard. It was hard to keep focus when a third finger entered him. His toes curled, his asshole stretched nearly the size of his own fist. The burning had turned to a scalding ache. It felt like something was tearing back there. Trapper yanked  his pants fully down to his shoes, yanking them all fully off with a powerful yank. Jake didn’t try to crawl away, but he’d considered it. Not before a hand at his waist yanked him back hard. And Trapper’s pinkie and thumb slid in. 

“Fuck! Fuck!” The survivor thought. 

Jake’s legs trembled. The fist was only partly inside of him, and not even clenched. It hurt in a way puncture wounds and burns ached. And then the fist came out and his asshole clenched around the air, empty. Jake groaned and sunk into the ground as Trapper sat up, shouting something over his head. Jake looked to the side, and could just barely see Quentin sitting awkwardly on the ground, frozen stiff and staring forward. 

“Pay attention you dumb fuck! You want your head cleaved in half?” Trapper snarled. 

“N-no!” Dwight had pulled himself up from his kneeling position. Trapper swirled around towards him, fist raised. Dwight sunk back with his cheek to the stone, tears in his eyes. “I-I-I m-mean-n h-h-he h-h-has-s-s-s a-a-a-a l-l-l-a-a-a-g-g! H-h-is b-b-ody s-s-s-t-t-tops!! D-d-don’t-t hurt-t-t him!” 

“A fucking what?” Trapper looked back at the frozen dreamwalker. “Is he conscious?”


“How long is he out?”


Trapper turned and raised his fist again. 

“I d-d-don’t-t-t k-k-know!” Dwight nearly screamed, covering his head. 

“You’re starting to piss me off, pet. Answer me when I ask a question right away. Now look the fuck forward and don’t fucking make a noise. And lift your ass higher. If it gets any lower than that, your punishment is going to be worse. And it’s happening right after I’m done with Jake here.”

Jake angirly mumbled something into the didlo wedged down his throat. He gagged, and while Dwight buried his head into the stone to escape the spotlight, Trapper grabbed Jake’s hair and lifted off his body. He dragged the semi-docile man in front of Quentin and started to tear off the rest of his clothes. 

“It’s time you looked the part of my dog. Dwight had privileges for clothes, but I think it’s time I reset the rules again.” 

Jake tried not to struggle as his clothes were literally shredded apart. Trapper used his metal-strewn hand to rip away the fabric and left shallow gashes on his skin. Jake did struggle then, and was slammed into the ground, right between Quentin’s legs. Trapper grabbed them and pulled the survivor closer. Jake tried to wiggle away, but Trapper sat right on his ass with his crotch between his cheeks. He ground into him once, and the thrust sent Jake sliding up further into Quentin’s lap. 

Mmmphff! Mpgghffth!” Jake screamed into his gag. Quentin felt like a little brother to him. He couldn’t touch him like this. This was fucked. 

“Now, let’s see just how good this ass feels,” Trapper sighed, sinking further into Jake. 

His cock came out and slapped across a cheek. Trapper dragged the hot flesh over them both a few times, shivering in anticipation. His breath came out huskier. He grabbed Jake’s ass and pulled apart the flesh. His cock was hard now. It slipped in between his crack and Trapper smashed the cheeks together, enveloping himself in warmth. He gave the moaning man a few rough humps, plowing him over Quentin who was appearing to wake up. 


As soon as Trapper saw the clarity return to the dreamwalker’s eyes, he spread Jake’s ass open wide, lined up his cock, and thrust in. Jake screamed in his gag, his hands clinging to Quentin despite his attempts at not touching the boy. Quentin began to scramble, trying to move in his panic, but pinned under Jake’s weight, who was pinned by Trapper. Quentin gaped at the looming mask, then back at a naked Jake being fucked in the ass. His face was twisted in pain. Trapper grunted in wild lust above him. His large hand slapped Jake’s cheek, leaving a bright red mark. Jake’s hands twisted tighter into Quentin’s jacket. 

Quentin was too mortified to react. His fists sat frozen on the ground, face pale and eyes as wide as saucers. He looked like he was about to be hooked, unable to tear his eyes from Trapper’s mask. 

“Oh fuck…” Trapper moaned. 

He thrust his hips in three quick pumps, jerking as his orgasm hit him quickly. He flooded Jake’s guts with a heavy load of cum, some of it spurting from the man’s now red rim. Trapper didn’t bother to pull out yet. His hips pulled in and out a few times, lazy and slow. Jake’s eyes were closed. He was enduring. Trapper didn’t like that. 

He grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him from Quentin, spinning him so Jake was in his lap with his legs behind the killer’s back. Jake’s head lulled onto his shoulder. His body was still shaking. And to Trapper’s great pleasure, the survivor’s own cock had become fully erect. Trapper knew he’d be able to stir some delicious humiliation from Jake with that later. 

But right now, Trapper’s cock was once more at attention and demanding it too. He lined it back up to Jake’s hole, and felt the survivor weakly try to pull up. Trapper thrust upward, forcefully slamming his hips to the bottom of the smaller man’s thighs. He grabbed his cleaver as he pounded into his pet. Jake stiffened again, and started to struggle when he heard Quentin scream in fright. 

An arm locked around his waist. It held him tight, keeping him from helping as the cleaver swung down. Jake’s legs kicked out. His arms thrust against his captor. Blood splattered his back. The screams intensified. He slammed his head against Trapper’s shoulder, desperate to bite him. Rubber was the only thing he could taste. 

In the background, Jake faintly heard Dwight trying hard not to cry. 

When the cleaver finally stopped, so did Trapper. He released his second load. He dropped his cleaver, shuddering as he wrapped Jake in blood spattered arms and crushed him to his chest. Balls deep in his second prize, he lifted his mask and left breathy bites along his neck. 

“Do you want to see your friend?” Trapper asked, voice drenched in arousal. 

Jake closed his eyes and shook his head. A wet tongue began to lick along his ear, over the shell before wiggling inside. Jake jerked away, but Trapper followed, sucking and biting the area until he reached his neck again. By then, his cock had gone flaccid enough to slip from Jake’s ass. Trapper fully turned him around, peering down to catch his pet’s reaction. 

The poor man started to sob. Quenitn lay on his back, his legs missing. Jake’is gag made his cries faint. But they moved his chest in a way that physical pain had not. Trapper raised a hand to splay his fingers over the heaving chest. The bones felt frail under his muscles. He hugged Jake a little harder, wanting to fuck him again but unable to get hard. 

He sat up and dragged the man over to his wall, locking him back up. He let Jake sprawl out, head facing Quentin in horror and self-blame. Trapper rubbed at his cock while admiring the expression before tucking himself back in. He then went over to Dwight, purposefully stomping his boots heavily by his head. Dwight cowered in on himself yet still managed to keep his ass up high. Trapper gave it an appreciative rub, but his voice was harsh. Harsh in a way he knew would make Dwight feel shame and guilt. 

“You’ve been a disloyal and disruptive pet since you’ve been back, Dwight. I’m disappointed in you. You don't move a muscle until I return. You aren’t to even speak.”

He could see Dwight’s limbs seem to flutter a moment. As if they wanted to untangle themselves from their cocoon or stay hidden but couldn’t decide. The poor man wasn’t sure if he should answer that with a verbal affirmative or not. Normally, Trapper would find it amusing. But since Dwight’s return, the honeymoon phase had been starting to fade. It was nice to have his reward, and then some, but Dwight had clearly lost a lot of training since he’d been gone. There was a lot of work to be done.

He stood, leaving Dwight kneeling and Jake flat on his back, breathing heavily with blood and cum leaking from between his ass. Trapper grabbed a groaning Quentin by the back of his jacket, yanking him a few feet off the ground to carry him like a bag. His missing legs were left in the corner. 

“I see the survivors still recall your little cell,” Trapper noted, before heading out the door. “That’s fine. I’ve been building a new place for us. A little more secure, and it’ll have my quarters there too. That way, I won’t have to worry about my boys. Be back soon.”

The door slammed shut, locks tumbling into place. Neither survivor left in the dark had any hope of speaking before their Master returned. 

Quentin watched the trail of blood his legs left behind. He was mute. He felt numb. 

Trapper’s frontside was painted red from where Quentin hung over his shoulder. Where his chopped limbs flowed heavily with blood. Trapper hummed alongside his pained groans as he carried him to a small clearing where the other three survivors were laying on the ground, everyone missing their legs too. They looked nearly dead, barely able to move, eyes lifting up to tiredly watch death approach. Quentin was dumped off beside them. Claudette, sobbing, reached out and grabbed a hold of him as if to comfort. Quentin only felt cold dread. He only felt numb.

 Trapper laughed over them and brandished his blade. 

“So? Who wants to be hacked up first?”

Quentin almost raised his hand to volunteer. He just wanted to go back to the fire. 

Chapter Text

Dwight still had his head to the stone when he heard Trapper returning. He’d felt Jake’s presence by him, but the man hadn’t yet moved. Dwight was too scared to even ask if he was okay. The words had just been about to form when boots stomped down the stairs. He held his breath as Trapper entered the room. Jake didn’t even seem to notice, his body still slumped out the corner of Dwight’s eyes.  A heavy hand fell on his backside. The thumb started to rub small circles. 

“Good boy. I see you can follow some orders today. Sit up. Turn around and sit on your knees.”

The command was firm. Dwight forced his aching, pin-needled legs and arms to move without hesitation. His knees almost gave out on him, but Trapper grabbed a hold of his neck to steady him. Dwight forced his hands to remain at his sides, looking up at his Master with the most docile expression he could muster. The mask made it impossible to tell if he was doing the right things. Trapper rarely ever took it off. But his old habits had started to return, and Dwight could pick up the way Trapper moved and tensed and breathed to tell if he was being a good pet. 

“Show me how appreciative you are to serve me.” Trapper slowly let go of his throat and instead wrapped his hand around the chain. Dwight’s face was shoved close to the killer’s crotch. “And don’t use your hands, slut.”

Dwight shakily leaned forward and buried his nose in the line of the jean’s zipper. A hand fell into his hair, rubbing and shoving his face further into the hard fabric. His glasses were taken when they got in the way and he nearly reached out for them before remembering his place. His hands lowered and Trapper growled at him to move faster. 

“The better this feels, the easier your punishment will be,” he added.

Dwight's face went pale and he quickly began to rub his nose along the growing bulge with more enthusiasm. Trapper chuckled, the display turning him on. Dwight felt the cock throb against his face with interest, and he dragged his tongue over the blood and oil stained crotch. Trapper groaned as his teeth found the zipper and Dwight started to tug down. But he lost his grip and he yanked and tumbled backwards, only caught by the chain pulling taut. Dwight’s arms wind-milled a moment before he righted himself again with enough momentum to slam his face back into the bulge. 

“You miss my cock that much, pet?” Trapper asked. 

He reached down, pulling the zipper open himself. As soon as the hot meat was free, Dwight got to work trailing kisses and licks along its underside. The throbbing weight was heavy against his face. Trapper’s hips began to move. He rubbed his cock over milky skin and pink, flushed lips. 

“Look at me, slut. Your Master is the only thing you should be focusing on. When my cock's out, you worship it.”

Dwight nodded, unable to use his words as he sucked in the tip. Trapper shoved halfway down his throat without warning, but Dwight had been expecting it, and widened his jaw and loosened his muscles. He started to focus purely on withdrawing groans of pleasure from Trapper.

‘God, is it so easy to fall back into this?’ Came the intrusive thought. 

Dwight didn’t let it outwardly affect him. Trapper’s orgasm was his top priority when the dick was out. But his chest was flooded with hard-to-ignore disgust. A feeling he’d beaten to nothing over the years. A feeling resurrected by the small slice of freedom he’d been gifted by the survivors. By Jake, who was still laying on the ground behind him. Dwight couldn't help but wonder if Jake was in need of help. Of course, death just meant a reset to this cell. 

Dwight wasn’t fully focused on his cock anymore. And Trapper took notice. The cock slid from his mouth with a ‘pop!’ Dwight fell onto the stone as Trapper backhanded him. From behind, Jake still didn’t stir. Even as Dwight started to sob, looking over for the relief of company. He saw Jake’s lopsided head on his shoulder, eyes shut and breathing uneven. He was passed completely out. For some reason, being alone in this cell again, if only mentally, made Dwight’s fear escalate. 

When Trapper crawled over the top of him, he let out a wretched, fearful sob. Trapper shut him up by slamming his cock back into his mouth and shoving his head to the floor. His legs pinned either side of his arms, his rolling sharply back and forth. He let out a groan and held Dwight's head in a vice-like grip. The thrusting got impossibly faster. 

"I want you to understand how furious I was, pet," Trapper groaned. He was looking down at Dwight's wide, wet eyes, pinning him with a look of insatiable lust and simmering anger. "When you left me, all I could think about was skinning you alive. Setting you on fire over and over until you promised to never leave my side again-!" 

Trapper's hips jerked erratically. He hurriedly pulled out from red, puffy lips. Furiously jerking himself, off Trapper leaned over Dwight's face, pressing his balls to his lips and aiming his head at the floor. 

"Suck my balls, slut." His voice was husky and hard. "Get me off."

Dwight's tongue took a timid lick before drawing one of the sacs into his mouth, suckling on it as Trapper came. Dwight's head was smashed into the ground by a few, desperate humps as Trapper's cock spurted his cum all over the ground. Some of it sprayed over Dwight's eye. The poor man couldn't decide whether to lick it off or not when his Master decided for him. He flipped Dwight over onto his stomach, then pinned his face to the cum-stained stone. 

"Eat my fucking cum. And act grateful while you do it.”

Dwight held in a sob as his tongue swiped along the floor. The cum was already cooling and, after weeks of eating rabbit and berries, Dwight's ability to control his gagging had weakened. It tasted so much worse than he remembered. His hesitation earned him a slap to his backside. 

"Are you saying no?" Trapper growled. "Do you know who the fuck what you are? Fuck holes don't get a say. I was too lenient on you since you've arrived. This should keep you from thinking about escape again. Keep licking. And thank me for the food, slut."

"T-t-t-th-thank y-you, M-m-master!" 

Dwight obediently licked the cum as Trapper slid off of him. He could hear his Master from behind, and the movement of chains. The unsheathing of his cleaver was the most notable though. Dwight's licking grew more desperate as the flat of the blade guided his ass into the air before teasingly scraping along his balls.

He nearly choked on the cum as the sharp edge lifted his balls up and a thin rope was wrapped around their base. It was given a sharp tug. Dwight ignored the burn of stretching skin, trying to make the floor shine in the hopes that it would please Trapper. 

The rope was attached to a chain and pulled taut. Dwight had to stretch out his neck to reach the white spots he'd missed, tongue reaching as Trapper stood back behind him. He rubbed a once more hardened cock between his cheeks. His hips struck flesh and the rope pulled painfully at Dwight's balls. He hissed, struggling to continue licking as Trapper pushed into him. 

His eyes flashed back up to Jake. His feelings were completely split. He wanted the man to wake, to have a pair of sympathetic eyes to latch onto. But he didn't want Jake to see this. Dwight could already guess what was going to happen. You didn't live as Trapper's pet for years without learning to think like him. 

The cleaver scraped along his spine, light and threatening as Trapper pushed his head back into the already slick hole. He gave Dwight a sharp and brutal pounding, curling over the top of him to put as much pressure on his balls as he could. Dwight tried to bear through the pain. His toes curled into the stone, and his muscles tensed as if to try and push back. Trapper pinned him down by the neck and gave three more strong thrusts. 

"Gah- fuck," the killer groaned, stilling to keep from cumming. 

His hips shifted, one leg bending so he could pull out halfway and get a good look at Dwight's underside. He admired the stretched skin and the quivering pale legs on either side. Trapper placed his blade on that sensitive skin. He scraped over it. Back and forth. Dwight kept licking but could no longer hold in his cries. His shoulders shook. Trapper removed his mask. He wanted a clear view. He gave his back a rub and leaned forward so his mouth was close to his ear. 

"I do this so you'll learn. I know my good boy is still in there. I know you were scared, and those damned survivors lured you in..." He paused to nibble at Dwight's neck. "But you have to be punished. You have to be reminded where you kneel." 

He rubbed at his ass, as if to soothe, while Dwight sucked in a sob. 

"I-I-I-I'm s-s-so s-s-sor-r-r-r-ry!! P-ple-e-ease!!" Dwight's words were completely incomprehensible, but Trapper understood the gist of it. 

"I know you are, pet. But you're not sorry enough. Not yet."

He sat up, pulling his cock out and swinging down his blade. It took three chops - and not because he wasn't strong enough for one. Dwight screamed in blind agony. His hands reached out and clawed at the ground, his body slamming into the stone as his balls separated from his body. Hot blood ran down his legs. 

Trapper immediatly began to fuck him again. Dwight would stop struggling and screaming. It pissed him off, so he slammed his head down and raised his voice. 

"Stop moving. You did this to yourself, slut." His hips moved again. 

Dwight tried to be still, but it hurt too much. He sobbed aloud, weeping at the thought of the warm campfire and the peaceful sound of rustling leaves. It had all gone away so quickly, and now he was here, suffering this hell once more. Dwight couldn't stop sobbing. He was told twice to stop. Trapper got annoyed and the cleaver came back down. 

"You'll do as I say, when I say it, IMMEDIATELY when I say it!" Trapper boomed. Dwight screamed, staring wide eyed the blade cut into his wrist. His hand was gone. 

"S-s-s-sorry! S-s-sorry! S-sorry! S-s-sorry!" Dwight kept mumbling the word over and over like a prayer. "I-I w-w-won't-t-t l-lea-" 

He didn't get to finish. His other hand was slashed apart. Dwight’s body rocked back and forth violently before Trapper came with a husky grunt. His heavy balls slammed where Dwight's once were, and the feeling of hot blood and torn flesh gave Trapper's cock an extra wave of pleasure. 

He fell flat on top of Dwight with all his dead weight. The survivor still had yet to stop screaming. Exhausted and wanting to enjoy the afterglow, Trapper clamped his hand over his pet's mouth. He laid his nose in his hair and breathed him in, lazily rolling his hips a few more times. 

"Oh fucking Lord, Dwight. Shut up. Shut up and listen to me."

The mouth under his hand closed, quivering as he struggled to hold everything in. 

"This is a warning. I have no patience to retrain you while dealing with this new slut. You are going to be an obedient, good little dog for your Master. You'll suck my cock without hesitation. You'll follow my commands with the respect and gratitude I expect of you. You'll be helping me show Jake how to act. Do you understand?" Dwight shakily nodded. "Say it aloud. Then thank me for cutting off your balls."

When he let go, Dwight's voice forced itself to form something akin to words.

 "T-t-t-tha-an-nk y-y-you! T-th-thank-k-k y-you f-f-f-or-r-r t-t-teach-ch-ching m-me, M-m-mast-t-ter! I-I'm a b-b-bad-d p-p-pet-t-t! I d-deserv-ve th-this!" 

"Yes, you do. But since I'm so kind, and your tight ass felt so good, I'll give you a quick death."

Dwight nodded and thanked Trapper. He was slowly starting to succumb to the effects of blood loss, though. His struggles weak and his head lolling. The pain was still so fresh though. Death wasn't coming fast enough. 

Trapper pet his head. "Good boy. While you're gone, I'm moving Jake to our new home. Then I'll be back for you... my sweet, misguided pet. I hope you learned what happens when you listen to someone else."

Dwight kept thanking him in breathy, pained whispers. Even as the blade struck his neck, he thanked him. He whispered prayers of worship to his Master until blood filled his throat and all that came from his lips was red foam. 

Chapter Text

Dwight was regenerated back into the cell, naked and chained, to Master already waiting for him. He was sitting with his back to the wall, key in hand and a familiar but old sight in the other. Dwight raised his neck without being told, the heavy metal collar removed and a leather one slid in its place. It was faded and red. A hand-made metal tag that read 'Property of E.M.'.

Dwight hadn't worn it since he'd fallen out of favor with Master. He gulped as the latch was tightened. It didn't hurt like the metal. The leather was snug but soft, and he thanked Master as it was fitted with a chained leash. 

"Look at that. Already your manners are back in one piece.” Trapper chuckled, a thumb running over Dwight's cheek. The survivor, mutilation still fresh in his head, sucked the thumb in between his lips. He looked his Master in the eye as he suckled. Trapper pulled it out with a reluctant groan. 

"I'm gonna have to use that punishment more often."

Dwight's face paled. 

"Hehe, calm down, pet. I won't need to be handing out any more punishments so soon, do I?"

"N-no, M-mas-s-st-ter! I-I-I'm a g-g-good-d b-b-boy!"

"We'll see. First, let's take a walk to our new home. Someone is there, waiting for us."

Dwight perked a little. He felt guilty, but in his terror and pain had forgotten of the new pet. He paused in his thoughts, following Trapper out the door and into the hall. Jake was technically a pet, but it felt wrong to think of him like that. And Trapper was Trapper. Dwight didn't realize when he'd started to mentally refer to him as Master again. 

‘So you're just going to slip back into Trapper's little pet fantasy then? And allow Jake to follow the same path? This is worse than any number of deaths. Any number of tortures. It took one session, and you're already back to playing his cock sleeve.’

Dwight insulted himself a few more times, hoping the berating thoughts would somehow motivate him to stay strong. They only made him feel worse. And his newly intact balls stung with phantom pains, reminding him of what happens to rebelling dogs. 

The thoughts stayed, as unconvincing as they were, as Trapper led him barefoot into the Estate's wooded acres. The sticks and leaves cracked under his soft heels. He winced, but was pulled along impatiently as Master expertly navigated the terrain. 

They came to the edge of the map where the brick wall rose up. There were several stand alone walls beneath the main boundary one, and a single red locker off to the side. Dwight was led towards the stone ruins. There was a trap door that looked exactly like the wooden floorboards sinking halfway into the earth. A survivor would pass right over it without a second look. The lock was hidden in a compartment Master pulled back. Dwight followed him down the steel stairs into an underground hall. 

It was built by hand. Some walls were unfinished and bare except for support beams made of salvaged wood. The ceiling was strung up with bolted wires and lights. Dwight didn't get to look through any of the doors they passed. He was led down a set of stairs. At its end, was an iron door not unlike the one in the basement prison. 

‘So, you act good and loyal and what do you get? A basement to replace the old one...’

Dwight bit his lip, cautiously following Master into the large room. The walls were made of brick and obviously the most enforced in the bunker. There were two dog beds at the foot of a large, king-sized bed. It had long wooden posts and floral sheets.

The bed posts and headboard had long chains draping from them. And in some of those chains, was a glaring Jake, his wrists held over his head and his legs splayed before him. He had a collar too. A black, leather one with the same engraving on his tag. 

Jake was breathing raggedly and he was red-faced, as if Master had done something to strike a nerve before he left. When he saw Dwight, his eyes softened a little, but they hardened in concern when Dwight quickly broke contact with him and looked at the ground. Master was tugging him towards the bed though. Dwight followed. 

"You should be thanking me for the bed. Or would you rather sleep back on hard stone again?" Master asked Jake. Jake opened his mouth, then clamped it shut. Dwight missed how he looked to him in brief hesitation. 

"No. I'll... be good," the crow-talked muttered. 

Dwight's head snapped up in surprise. He didn't expect the submissive. Not yet, anyway. Then Master did something he didn't expect. He let go of Dwight's leash. The nervous survivor was left standing there, a bit flustered with the sudden lack of direction. Master ignored him to crawl on the bed, up and over a struggling Jake who, despite his words, couldn't help but glower.

"I find that hard to believe. But don't worry. You've got two teachers to help you learn."

Jake grit his teeth as large hands slid under his back. His ass was lifted and Master slipped behind the survivor to settle him in the nest of his legs.  It was obvious Jake was trying not to struggle. His nostrils flared and his body was tense as it could be, as if Master's touch was painful. 

"Dwight. Crawl over here."

Dwight didn't dare to hesitate. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his leash as he slid up on the mattress. Master ordered him to kneel in front of Jake. Dwight became painfully aware of how bare both of them were. His eyes darted away when Trapper grabbed Jake's flaccid dick. 

"Where are those eyes going, boy? Look at this cock."

Dwight looked. His face went beet red. He could feel Jake looking at him too, and tried hard to ignore the perversion and shame flooding him. 

"Now touch him."

Dwight's heart skipped a beat. He almost questioned his Master, then caught himself and reached out. The shame flooded him like fire as he heard Jake hiss with the contact. 

"Dwight, stop..." Jake said, low and upset. "Please."

Dwight didn't move his hand. He looked to Trapper for guidance, ignoring Jake who was throwing pleading eyes at him. Trapper gave him a nod. 

"Don't act shy. You know your way around a cock," Master reached down, cupping Dwight's hand and making him stroke flesh. "Show Jake just how much of a whore you are."

Dwight bit his lip. He didn't want to cry. But when Trapper grabbed his chin and forced him to look at Jake, a broken whine cracked through. Jake was shaking his head, tears at the corner of his eyes that refused to fall. 

"Stop. Stop, Dwight, please don't touch me there."

Dwight didn't stop. Even when Master let go of his hand. Even when Jake kept begging him to stop and the flesh grew hard under his touch. Halfway through, the crow-talker had stopped begging. Jake wouldn't look at him when he came all over his stomach. Master grabbed Dwight's head and shoved it to the newly spurted cum. Dwight didn't need to be told, and licked it from Jake's stained skin. Dwight was drowning in guilt now. Jake was still as Master fondled his nipples, the mask tilted up so he could pepper bites and kisses on the back of his neck. 

"I'd fuck you again," Master was saying. "But Dwight took care of those urges already. We'll have to work out that ass tomorrow."

Jake's eyes closed. Dwight saw them shut as he licked the last of the cum clean. Master grabbed him by the hair and lifted him up. He was shoved backwards and told to go lay in one of the dog beds. 

"Go lay down, pet. It's time for bed."

Jake was still silent as he was unchained. Dwight slunk off the mattress to one of the two beds on the ground. It was smelt like dust and storage, but it was soft. Dwight curled up and sunk into the soft bedding, watching as Jake was carried and dropped off into the one across from him. Jake immediately curled into himself, back to Dwight. Both of their leashes were hooked to the bed posts. Dwight's hair was tussled. 

"G'night, pets."

Dwight barely heard him. The lights went out and Master sunk into his bed with a tired, but content sigh. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Dwight stared at Jake's back, regret keeping him from sleep. But if Master asked it of him, Dwight knew he'd do it again. The Entity gorged itself that night on his warring thoughts. 




Morning came. Jake didn't feel any better than he had last night. In fact, he felt worse. 

He thought his anger at Dwight would change. Thought he'd sleep it off as he told himself that Dwight had no choice. Dwight was forced to touch him. But Jake didn't fully believe himself. He just felt.... really angry. So he kept an outwardly mute expression, refusing to look at Dwight as Trapper roused them out of bed. 

"Up, sluts. It's chore day, and since I still don't trust either of you, you'll be keeping me company."

Jake didn't like the sound of that. He hated it, when he learned what it meant. Trapper took their leashes and hook them to either side of his hips. He forced Dwight and Jake to keep up, crawling on all fours like dogs. His knees ached by the time they crawled up the stairs and through the halls. But the ache and humiliation was overshadowed by something unexpected. 

As they left the bunker, light poured from the trapdoor. Jake was mesmerized by it. He hadn't seen sunlight since he'd been brought to this realm. And here it was, a sunrise just beginning to start. But it would never rise above the horizon. Trapper told him as much when he saw his awe-struck gaze. The Entity only allowed enough light to allow the killers to work and maintain their areas. This resulted in a full day of twilight. 

"Hurry it up. You two are going to learn to keep up with me," Trapper ordered. 

He gave Dwight's leash a harsh tug, nearly slamming the poor man's face into the dirt. Jake, despite his anger, wanted to reach out and help him up. He refrained, but with hesitation. He knew he was being irrational. When he had woken up from Trapper fucking him, Dwight had been gone and he was left with a blood soaked cell and a blood soaked Trapper. Jake could guess that Dwight had suffered his punishment alone. And now he was acting way too obedient for Jake's liking. 

Including that lack of hesitation when jerking him off. Touching him like... like a killer. 

Jake kept crawling. Dwight righted himself and hurried to keep up. The grass licked at their bare sides and dirt scuffed their knees and palms. They were heading for the killer shack. The wooden floorboards hurt to crawl over. Trapper walked to a desk in the back where scraps and metal littered the long table. He sat down, directing each pet to sit on either side of his leg. He started to fiddle with an open bear trap. He didn't say anything to his pets. Gave them no direction. Just worked on his tools. 

Jake stole a glance at Dwight to see he was leaning against Trapper's leg, eyes closed as if he were nodding off. Trapper's hand came down to pet at his hair. Jake cringed and leaned away. Dwight caught the look. His face reddened and he looked at the ground. Feeling a bit bad, Jake too stared at the floorboards, unsure if he had any right to act disgusted. He wanted to both apologize to Dwight and shake him until he stopped acting so lenient. 

Their tiny interaction didn't go unnoticed.

"Are you bored?" Trapper asked, snatching Jake's hair and tugging him closer to his leg. "Stay still and don't move. If you get too antsy, I'll give that mouth something to do."

Jake begrudgingly stayed where he was left, cheek against Trapper's thigh and legs tucked under his bottom. Trapper resumed working. The sound of tinkering metal filled the room. Jake tried to sit still. He tried to take advantage of the situation. For once, there was no pain. Whether it be from the cold, scraping chains, or Trapper's blade. Jake closed his eyes and tried to ease against the killer. It was easier than he was willing to admit. The smell of grease and denim filled his nose. 

"Good boy." 

Of course, Trapper had to ruin the moment of peace. Jake sneered when the hand came down to pet him. He couldn't help it. He jerked away. The hand tangled back in his hair, Dwight falling over onto his back as Trapper abruptly stood from his chair. Jake snarled and grabbed at the wrist pulling him up. 

Trapper slapped him and shoved his head in between his thighs, pinning his head there. The killer grabbed something off the table. It was a small, peeling knife. Jake paled but he kept a determined glare. The knife tapped his face. 

"Already having to doll out punishments?" Trapper sighed. "I thought you'd give me at least an hour of peace."

The knife slid down. But before it could even break skin, Dwight had crawled forward with his nose close to the ground. Trapper paused and looked impatiently at his other pet. 

"H-h-he's-s-s m-my r-r-r-espon-n-nsiblit-t-ty," Dwight stammered. "I-I sh-should be p-p-punish-ished on his-s-s behalf-f. 

"Oh?" The killer asked in mild surprise. "And why should that be?"

"I-I-I'm th-the one wh-ho sh-should l-lead b-by ex-x-xample... I-I h-haven't-t-t been a-a-a g-good ex-xample..."

"No. No. You haven't." 

Dwight looked like he might cry. But he nodded anyway. Trapper grabbed his shoulder and roughly jerked him to his knees. He didn't pull away. The fear on his face was palpable and yet his eyes still searched the killer's face as if wondering how best to appease. 

And then it struck Jake. He could see now. He could see that Dwight was simply an expert at this kind of survival. He'd lived with Trapper this long, hadn't he? Jake hated to admit it, but he wondered if following Dwight's lead would be his best option. If defiance, in subtle ways, was more trouble than it was worth. His anger came back full force. Jake physically had to stomp it down. It would be less painful to just give in. 

Maybe... maybe it'd be easier if Dwight was teaching him. 

He eased off the ground and gingerly crawled beside him. Trapper and Dwight both paused and looked at him. Trapper's lips tweaked into a grin and he fully shoved off his mask, piercing blue eyes looking down at his new pet with interest. 

Jake swallowed his shame. He was about to do something he'd never thought he'd willingly do. He bowed his head in submission. 

"I'm sorry, Master," Jake bit out. It was hard to cover up all the anger in his voice, but Jake figured it was a decent attempt. Trapper seemed to be deciding whether he thought it was good enough or not. 

"This is interesting. Look at me." Jake looked. "What's my naughty pet's sudden change in attitude?" Trapper asked. 

"I..." Jake swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry for being bad, Master. I... I don't want Dwight to take my punishment. I'm the bad... bad boy... Dwight doesn't deserve this. I do." 

‘Oh god, kill him now!’ 

But the grin that lit up Trapper's face proved he said just the right things. Or at least, close enough to appease the killer's anger. Dwight was fully dropped. A look of pure relief had floated over his face, and he gave Jake a disbelieving, if awed look. 

Jake gave him only a tiny nod. Trapper dropped his pants. His cock was already hard and at attention. Jake blinked, his stomach turning. Being a "good boy" meant more than just sweet words. His mouth went dry and a look of obvious fear passed his face. Trapper chuckled and fondled himself. He knelt down and patted a thigh, indicating Dwight to crawl over and rest his head. He directed Jake to come to the other side. 

'Follow my lead,' Dwight mouthed at him. Trapper saw it. Not much escaped his notice. 

"Yeah, Jake. Just do what Dwight does. My good boy'll show you the ropes."

Jake bit the inside of his cheek as he crawled forward. Trapper waited with an expectant grin, patting his thigh once more before Jake settled against it. The hand slid down to his back and rubbed little circles. 

"That's it.... just lay there and watch my Dwight at work."

His other hand combed through Dwight's hair, leading him to his cock. Dwight got to work licking a strip up the side of the shaft. He rubbed the heavy balls beneath. In between licking, he'd leave kisses all over the head. Little things that brought Trapper closer to the edge. 

"Ha~ good boy," Trapper huffed. "Now it's your turn."

He didn't grab Jake, but leaned back to give him access. Dwight kept licking. His eyes met Jake's and both developed a dusting of red over their cheeks. Dwight had to break eye contact before kissing the head of the cock. Jake decided to share in the embarrassment, closed his eyes, and stuck out his tongue. Salty, hot meat met his taste buds. Dwight only started to lick again when Jake moved down to avoid the leaking precum. A morid sort of gratefulness overtook him when Dwight noticed and licked the beading liquid away so he didn’t have to. 

"Don't be shy. Sluts don't get to feel shame." 

Both the survivor's heads were grabbed, faces smashed together to sandwich his cock. Dwight kept licking, and Jake struggled to follow his lead when he realized their tongues would touch. Trapper pinched the back of his neck warningly. Jake settled for starting with light kisses. He brought his hand to Trapper's balls like Dwight had. When he finally licked, he shivered, touching Dwight's tongue with his own. He let them touch again before he knew what he was doing. Dwight let out a tiny moan. 

Trapper grabbed both their necks to make them stop. 

"Oh fuck," the killer breathed. "I gotta hear that again." 

He forcefully turned Jake's head, titling it and pressing his mouth back to his shaft. He turned Dwight's head the other way and his lips cupped the shaft, pressing to Jake's. He let go and ordered them to keep going, to not be shy. 

"Don't ever be shy around me. Lick my cock and his face."

Jake licked the cock a few more times, eyeing Dwight with keen eyes that pleaded for his permission. Dwight blinked twice, understanding exactly what was worrying his friend. Jake's lips grazed his own over the dick. He licked a small stripe along the side of Dwight's cheek, then pulled back to gently suck the head. Dwight followed him, eyes glazed over as he too paid attention to the tip. Jake sucked him in for another kiss, closing his eyes as they both tasted each other over Trapper's saltiness. 

 Trapper's cock thrust up between them. 

"Hehe, silly boys. Pay attention to Master too."

Their heads bobbed. Jake focused purely on the man in front of him, and Dwight did the same. Their breaths were hot and warmed eachothers faces. Jake wanted to pull him in for another kiss, but was tugged back a bit by his collar. 

"I come first," Trapper reminded him. "But keep up these new manners of yours, and maybe you'll get play time."

Jake hated how he nodded. But he couldn't deny the flip flop of his stomach at hearing those words. He buried it under his work, and the sensation of Dwight's spit against his. When the nervous survivor moaned at the touch of Jake's tongue again, Trapper finally blew his load. 

Jake sucked down the shaft, when Trapper seemed to start coming from his high, grabbed Dwight’s lips for one more kiss. The other licked inside his mouth, drawing out the cum Trapper had unloaded over their faces. Trapper pet them as they cleaned one another’s skin. When they were done, Jake and Dwight were led back to their positions at his feet, Trapper sitting back at his workstation and zipping himself up with a satisfied sigh. 

And when Jake reached out to hesitantly take Dwight's hand in his own, Trapper didn't reprimand him. He dozed off, running the pad of his thumb over Dwight's knuckles under the sound of a ticking bear trap. He couldn't have known just how estatic it made the other feel. 


From outside, a familiar crow sat on the shack's roof, a beady eye peering through the worn roof. It took off to the sky, leaving behind nothing but a black feather. 

Chapter Text


The killer laid in his bed, just having woken from a dead sleep. Evan was greatly pleased. Jake's attitude had changed on a dime. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but the silent exchanges between his pets had peaked his interest. His first pet seemed to be quite the teacher. And he was happy Dwight had a new playmate. Especially this one. 

For the show his pets put on this morning, Evan allowed them to sleep on his mattress. They were curled up by his feet, tied together with rope and a short chain linking their collars. Dwight had fallen asleep with his head tucked into Jake's shoulder, their legs intertwined. Evan hadn't been sure he wanted anyone else to touch Dwight, until he'd heard the noises Jake could pull from him. Jake had impressed Evan, and now he was as much the killer's possession as Dwight was. 

Evan licked his lips. He thought back to last night and his cock perked in interest. He wanted to grab the sleeping duo and fuck Dwight with Jake pinned beneath them. But that would have to wait. Something else caught Evan's attention, and it had him sliding out of bed and retrieving his cleaver and mask. 

His chest ached with a warning of intrusion. A trespasser was here. Evan was out the door in seconds. His pets didn't wake up from their entangled slumber. 


The sunrise had settled down hours ago. Whoever was here had entered through the north gate, and were standing there as if waiting for his arrival. Evan cursed and put away his cleaver when he noticed who it was. 

"Dammit, Phillip!" Evan spat, stalking up to the Wraith. "What the hell are you scaring me for at this hour?"

The other killer stared at him in that calm manner of his. "Evan," he greeted. "I've been meaning to speak with you."

"Yeah? Well speak then, I ain't got all day," Evan said impatiently. 

"The Entity rewarded you again."

Evan snorted disdainfully. "This again? Fuck, Phillip, let it go. I won the survivor fair and square. He's mine."

Phillip had approached him about this before, when he'd first learned of Dwight after his first few years as a killer. For a murderer, Phillip sure acted a lot like a hippy. He'd had this idea that the survivors and the killers were suffering in this hell together. Evan never thought he was in hell, but Phillip was a bit of a pansy. He actually felt bad for Dwight and had tried to bargain for his release several times. Evan had made sure Phillip never got close to his precious pet. 

"You shouldn't be using him for your own whims," Phillip continued. "He suffered enough under your hands, and his suffering should remain as minimal as we can allow. I want to ask you to release him. And the new human you've recently acquired."

Evan rolled his eyes. It was the same boring shtick. The Wraith would talk about their humanity like it would touch his heart or something. 

"They aren't people to me," Evan cut in rudely. "They're dogs. My dogs. And I don't appreciate you bringing this up again, Phil. I'm going to ask you to leave."

"Please, Evan. I've heard rumors."

Trapper's interest was reeled right back in. "What kind of rumors? And from who?"

"The survivor camp is in disarray. You've been breaking rules. You've been torturing the remaining survivors far beyond what the Entity requires of us."

"The fucks were causing trouble! They stole my fucking pet!" 

Phillip titled his head. This was news to him. "They had taken him back?"

"Oh don't fret," Evan mocked. "I got him back. It's how I got my new dog too. And what a good slut it is."

Phillip's eyes narrowed in displeasure. "They are human."

"They're dogs," Evan repeated. "They’re my fucking dogs whose only purpose is to suck my meat and warm my bed. Their use as survivors is worn out, and now I get to use their holes as my own personal property. Get it?" 

"I see." Phillip muttered. Evan knew he'd leave soon. The Wraith hated when he spoke dirty. 

"Do you? How about you come inside and have a peek? I was just about to shove my cock into a hole. But there's four of them, just waiting to be used. You can have a pick, Phil!" 

The Wraith was shaking his head. "I understand. You don't have to be a pig about it."

"Get the fuck out of here, then." Evan snapped. "Go and leave me be. I don't know why you're so fucking worried over a pair of dumb sluts."

"I'm not going to respect that with an answer. Have a good night, Evan."

"Yeah, sure. Suck my balls or leave already."

Phillip turned to walk through the gate. Evan wanted to swing his cleaver at the back of his head. The urge nearly took over, so he briskly turned back to his bunker, not waiting to watch the Wraith actually leave. If he did stay, it'd give Evan an excuse to hack him up. But right then, he just needed a hot piece of ass to cool him down. 

Thank the Entity he had two waiting for him in bed. 



Nea tried not to lose hope. The Entity fed off of it. Devoured it and used it to make them feel even shittier. She could feel the diety’s influence pawing at her chest right then as she wandered through the forest, looking for Quentin who had yet to show up for another rare dinner. He’d practically been a ghost since the trial where Trapper cut everyone’s legs off. Nea had listened to Claudette pour her guts about the recurring nightmares. She was still recovering from the fresh trauma. Nea wasn’t doing too hot herself. Trapper had said some vulgar things to her, and she hadn’t repeated it aloud yet. 

David wasn’t better off. He was tight-lipped about everything and carried on as if nothing had happened. A classic David tactic to avoid his emotions before he eventually blew up at someone and started a fight. She’d been trying to gently get him to open up, but to no results. So imagine her surprise, when she turned to find David crawling up the slope with his head down. 

“Hey, Nee. Can I talk to you?”

She blinked, then hurriedly nodded. “Yeah, dude. What’s up?”

“Are you looking for Quentin?” 

“Yeah,” she obliged his redirect. “Having a hard time finding him, though.”

“Me too.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Eh,” David scratched the back of his head. He turned away, but not before Nea saw the red coloring his cheeks. “Uh, forget it.”

“What did Trapper tell you?” Nea asked. 

David froze and looked back at her, looking nervous. He never looked nervous unless it had something to do with sex. Her first impressions of him so long ago had been a manly man with all the stereotype boxes checked. Fighting, blood, vulgarity, bruteness, as well as misogyny and homophobia he eventually learned to work out among the survivors. But there was one box he didn’t check: the classic horndog syndrome. 

David was, for lack of a better word, a prude. At least it seemed that way. He never initiated sex with anyone, and causual flings weren’t unheard of or surprising. But around David, the topic made him blush. He’d get pissed if anyone pointed it out, and even more teasing would follow. 

“Yeah. He said something.” David started. He wouldn’t look her in the eyes. Nea worried if he saw something too. 


A crow cawed over their heads. They ignored it. 

“About… about what he’s doing to the guys… Nee, I don’t want to tell anyone else, but I can’t keep it ta’ myself. It’s seriously eatin’ at my head.”

“I already know, if that makes it easier to tell me,” Nea explained. “When I rescued Dwight from the basement, I figured out why the Trapper had him there.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick. What the fuck is that freak doing makin’ toys of our family!? It’s drivin’ me crazy that I can’t do anything, and now Quentin saw something fucked that he won’t talk about! He was gone for so fucking long during that trial, Nee! And yu and I both saw what was on his shirt!” 

“I know! I know! I know, Dave.” 

Nea thought she’d been the only one to see it. The white splatter on the bottom of his shirt. The little bit dripping down with the blood of his missing leg. She felt her stomach turn and nodded again, firming her willpower to remain in control. 

“But we can’t force it out of him. I wanted to talk to him and… well, maybe just try for small talk. Get him back at the campfire.”

“He looked dead last I’ve seen him,” David said. “I don’t know how to help. I was never good at this shit.”

“Me neither,” Nea sighed. “I think Claudette knows, but I didn’t want to ask in case she didn’t. I’m not sure if Trapper ever teased anyone with what he’s been doing in the other trials. I… I just don’t know, dude.”

“You look tired, Nee. How are you holding up?”

“I feel fucked in the head, same as you. Not being able to do anything is killing me.”

With a caw, a black shape flew over their heads. Nea flinched when something dropped from its talons. She bent to pick up a metal handle. She tilted her head, looking back to the crow that had fluttered into the clearing with them. 

“Damn things throw this shiny shit everywhere,” Nea grumbled. But there was a lack of usual anger she felt towards the flying rats. Jake loved them, afterall, and it felt wrong to pick on them without their crow boy around to defend them. 

“Handle ain’t that shiny,” David commented. She realized he was starting to close off again, and wouldn’t get anything else from him. Damn bird. 

Nea tossed the handle aside. “Come on, let’s go back to the fire. Maybe you can help me find Quentin later.”


A silence hung between them a moment. 

“David… I’m actually terrified we won’t be able to rescue them. I’m sick knowing they’re there now.”

David only nodded, and the tightness in his eyes loosened. He seemed to take the reins on his emotions with ease, distraught and angry grief unwinding from his features. He pulled in Nea by one arm, giving one of his family members a brief, rare, hug. He shooed away the crow still trying to bug them. It really liked that lever it had. 

“Thanks, Dave.”

“No. Thank you, Nee. I feel better knowing someone else knows. But what should we do about the others?”

“It’s too personal. I still need to talk to Claudette, but Quentin for sure saw something. I’m afraid to know what happened.”

“Claudette must be at camp,” David said. The botanist never ventured too far. “Maybe we can talk to her, even if she doesn’t have a clue about the situation. She might have a few more ideas than we do.”

“Yeah, she’s better at this talking thing.”

“Alright,” David nodded, and the residuals of his earlier panic were completely gone. “One step at a time. Let’s see if we can find her.”

The two didn’t even breach the subject of a rescue. They still had to see if Trapper was keeping them in the same cell they found Dwight. A cell they needed a key to unlock, in a place they only went to be hunted. Nea felt like she might break down if she tried to unravel the situation right then. So she walked alongside David, shooing the crow that wouldn’t stop bugging them. 

The bird dropped the locker handle with a caw of frustration and took back off into the dark sky. 



His pets were awake when he returned. Trapper heard the hushed whispers come to a halt under the creak of the door, and he slowly walked over with a purposefully heavy stomp to his boots. 

Dwight's wide eyes were peering up at him from Jake's chest. Jake had his chin over his head, drawing him close but not displaying any outward aggression towards Evan. If anything, he looked almost pleading, as if worried Evan would separate them. The killer decided right then and there he liked having a pair. 

"I'm in a bad mood," Evan grumbled. They both visibly stiffened. He took out his cock, but let it hang from his open zipper. "Give me a show. Get my cock up without touching it before my mood gets really bad."

Jake faltered to understand what he was supposed to do. But Dwight, like a good boy, took initiative and showed the new pet what was expected of him - with a deep kiss and a moan. Jake fell into it and sucked on the bottom of Dwight's lip. His bound hands tried to sidle up Dwight's leg, but it was just short. He settled for moving his body, shifting bare skin against bare skin. Their nipples and cocks hardened as they touched. Evan's cock gave a twitch. When Jake's mouth latched to Dwight's neck and left hickeys, his flesh began to harden. Dwight was struggling to hold in his aroused groans. 

Oh yeah. Trapper already was in a much better mood. 

"That's it. Those are my good whores." Evan had to refrain from touching himself. He eyed the bare bodies wiggling together, imagining pressing his dick in between them. “Don’t hold back, Dwight. Master wants to hear your needy, little moans.”

His slut let out a long whine. Jake had attacked the base of his throat, licking and nipping gently at the sensitive skin. It was only when Jake whispered something in Dwight’s ear that Trapper decided to intervene. 

“Keep it loud enough for the whole class,” Trapper said, grabbing Jake by the hair and jerking his head back. “What’re you two whiserping about?”

“He… he was asking if I was okay-” Dwight stammered out. Quick and without no hesitation. He let go of Jake without punishment. 

“Like a couple of love birds,” Trapper teased, crawling onto the bed. 

Both Jake and Dwight were wide-eyed as he shrugged off his clothes and straddled them so that his thick legs pinned them closer together. His hard cock fell in between their faces. “Your Master doesn’t want to feel left out. Go on, pets. Show me how much you appreciate me letting you stay together. Unless you don’t…”

Trapper chuckled. The threat got Jake to start licking his shaft, just as eagerly as Dwight had already been doing. It was obvious his new pet wasn’t broken in. Just settling down and learning the ropes. Testing the rules but refraining enough to protect Dwight. Trapper was eager for the inevitable slip. But for now, the stroke of sweet tongues was enough. 

Almost too much, actually. 

Pulling back just before he came, Trapper’s cock bounced in so-so-close waves of arousal. His pets, flushed and confused where their treat went, began to kiss each other once more. This time, their hips began to move. Small, jerking thrusts that looked more involuntary than not. Trapper eyed their cocks rubbing against one another. They looked painfully hard and ready to burst. 

The killer stuck his hands in between them, pressing into their stomachs to move their bodies apart. Dwight nearly sobbed at the loss of hot contact. But Jake let out a desperate, pained keen that almost had Trapper unloading right then and there. He held himself together.He was really excited to truly break the boy. 

But under the excitement, Phillip’s words were still nagging at him. It pissed him off. These were ‘his’ pets, and he wasn’t going to let a spineless wimp like the Wraith try to tell him otherwise. A wave of possessiveness washed over him. 

He grabbed a pillow and tucked it in between his pets, keeping them apart save for their heads. Dwight whimpered, begging Trapper with his eyes to let them touch. Jake, on the other hand, was focused on Dwight, obviously trying to catch his gaze and calm him down. 

“Both of you,” Trapper growled. He slapped Jake’s cheek with his dick to get him to look up. “Lick me.”

Cock in hand, he began to furiously jerk himself off. Dwight quickly reached out, loss of contact forgotten, as he went to work. Jake followed suit a few seconds after. Trapper frowned. They’d have to work on that hesitation. He jammed the head in between his new pet’s lips and had Dwight start lapping at his balls and the underside of his shaft. It didn’t take very long for him to hit his peak. With a groan, Trapper ground his hips down and shot a load into Jake’s mouth. The boy started to gag and sputter. When he tried to pull away, Trapper grabbed his head and shoved his cock all the way to the back of his throat. A look of panic crossed his face. Dwight seemed to panic along with him, and seemingly at a loss of how to help, started to pepper light kisses on his shoulder. 

Trapper grunted as another wave of arousal hit. He rode out his high in Jake’s mouth, closing his eyes and letting his shrinking dick just lay on that soft tongue. He stayed like that for a long time. 


Several hours later, when the sunrise was beginning to start, a crow was busy at work. 

It fluttered against a generator sitting several feet from the trap door, using a stone to beat at it like a drum. The light made the Entity less perceptive, but this time was precious and eaten up fast. By the time Trapper came out to investigate the noise, the crow was gone. He didn’t notice one of the gen’s missing cylinders.

Chapter Text

Quentin didn’t notice when the pain of the cleaver stopped, or that his body had been swallowed up by the earth, sunken into the soil to spit him back at camp. He didn’t notice the fire. He lay outside the edge of the clearing, in the trees where the other survivors could not see him. 

He lay in the grass, not hearing as his other horrifically slaughtered teammates started to appear. He didn’t hear them asking for his whereabouts and the increasing panic of the survivors who’d already lost two to a killer.

Quentin could only hear Jake’s pained cries as his horrified face rocked close to his own. Quentin wasn’t sure he’d ever feel clean again. Shame, guilt and a severe sense of perversion had infected him. He couldn’t even think to reason with himself that he wasn’t somehow at fault. He’d lagged out and awoken to… to that. He hadn’t tried to push away, for God’s sake! The poisonous thoughts kept racing through his head. He grabbed his scalp, closed his eyes, and wished they’d just stop. Wished he hadn’t seen what he’d seen. 


He blinked. Reality returned and he found himself sitting back in the woods with Meg. He passed it off as a moment of his body lagging. 

“I’m okay. I wasn’t gone too long, was I?”

Meg perked up. She had been picking at the grass at her feet, chatting idly about nothing in particular. Quentin had been struggling to keep up. 

 “Oh no! Hardly at all!” The red-head gave him a grin. “At least your spells seem to be getting shorter. Anyway, I was out looking for a rabbit! Saw the damn thing several yards from the fire. Might be a squirrel, but I didn’t get a good look.”

Quentin forced a smile. “Yeah, a squirrel might be a nice change of pace. Rabbit was good the first dozen times.”

“Right!? The Entity better reward us with something new or I’m throwing the next match. Hear that, big guy?” Meg shouted into the dark sky, as if the Entity were already eavesdropping. “Give us some deer or something bigger! Then maybe I’ll start playing a bit better!” 

Quentin finally managed a brief laugh. “Do you think you could take a deer down?”

“Me?” She puffed out her chest and flexed a bicep. “I think these bad boys speak for themselves. Bam! That deer wouldn’t even know what hit it!” 

Quentin couldn’t make himself laugh again, so he settled for a loud exhale. “Hehe, yeah, it wouldn’t.”

“And you’ll be the first to get a deer burger,” Meg continued. “I’ll make em’ myself. Man, if only. I’d kill for a burger right now.”

“Oh fuck,” Quenitn groaned. “Me too. Why’d you have to bring it up.”

“Because I love to torture you.”

“You’re pretty good at it,” Quentin said slyly. He could never resist a good ribbing. “Maybe the next trial you’ll be the new killer. You’ll just have to promise to save me last and take me to the hatch.”

Meg grinned deviously. Her fingertips touched like an evil mastermind. “Perhaps, perhaps. But maybe I’ll require proper sacrifice. Perhaps it will have to be David. He stole half my portion of rabbit the other day.”

“Woah,” Quentin mocked. “He stole your rabbit? Maybe he’s gonna be the killer.”

“Shit,” Meg snapped her fingers. “Oh well, I don’t mind hanging with you guys. At least David won’t be around my food.”

“I have a feeling you’re the one who took his food.”

Meg shrugged. “Who knows?”

Their banter was interrupted by a sudden ‘caw!’ and a flapping of black wings. Meg grunted as she hit the dirt, a crow in her braids. It scampered along the earth, something in its beak. It threw it at Quentin who was helping up Meg. The runner reached out, giving the bird a glare. 

“Okay, first of all, ow. Second of all, what is this bird doing attacking my head? And third, why does it have a-” She suddenly dropped it upon realization of what it was, face going pale. “Fuck, is that a hook?”

She and Quentin leaned in close to look. And indeed, it was the curved tip of one of the sacrificial hooks, layered with dirt, rust and blood. The crow bobbed up and down with another ‘caw!’ Quentin asked why it brought this to them, to which the bird took back off into the sky. Not before taking the broken hook with it. 

“No, wait! Why do you have that!” 

“Should we follow it?” Meg asked. 

“You’re right! Come on!” 

Quentin was off running before Meg had a chance to blink. Life had sprung back into his body so suddenly, it almost looked like he hadn’t been near cataonic for several days. She worried her bottom lip before jogging after him. Her worry for Jake, Quentin, and that poor new soul made it hard for her to keep up emotionally with everyone. She had to be careful to focus on one thing at a time. She had just enough mental capacity to start worrying about what this crow wanted. 

The compartmentalizing worried her, but not enough to speak with anyone about. She felt more dead than alive, especially after being resurrected. It was hard to care about herself, let alone those damned the same around her. And funny enough, she felt guilty for her lack of guilt. 

When had she started to stop caring? 

These new turn of events had left her feeling near hollow. Change was bad. Change meant a new hell, a new landscape and new rules. It could be so much worse than this routine they already lived in. Change meant doom. Not that the rest of the group needed to hear this. 

Meg didn’t believe in a rescue attempt. She didn’t think she’d get to see Jake again. She had made her peace with that. It hurt, but it would hurt worse to keep hope alive. Pretending was all she could do.  She widened her grin, picked up her pace, and chased after Quentin. Later, she’d think of more things she could do to get this boy smiling again. He was here after all. He wasn’t gone yet. 

The Entity will drag us all to worse hells, one way or another. 

Chapter Text

A trial had started. Or at least, that must have been why Trapper was cursing. Jake figured he just hadn’t felt the game start because of his panic. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief through his nose, the heavy hand on his neck leaving. 

“Hmp,” The killer said softly. A hand rubbed his ass. “We’ll finish when I get back.”

Trapper had had him pinned to the bed with his hips to his ass. He and Dwight had been sleeping and when he’d awoken to a voice telling him to be quiet or let Dwight take the cock instead, Jake had been prepared to endure. His tongue hurt from biting down to keep silent. 

Thank The Entity for the trials . He never thought he’d feel that way. 

Dwight only woke up when the door slammed shut to the bedroom. His chains shifted as he rolled from the foot of the bed, looking around wildly, before he squinted at Jake who had somehow gotten far away. He reached off the mattress to grab his glasses from the floor, his eyesight restored and giving him more details: flushed face, rapid breath, fear in his eyes. 

“A-are y-you o-okay?” Dwight asked, crawling forward. Jake nodded stiffly. “D-d-did s-s-somth-thing h-h-happen?”

“No. Almost, but a trial started,” Jake said. He opened up his arms, noticing how fidgety Dwight was. “I’m okay.”

Dwight crawled into his arms and relaxed as they wrapped around him. Jake bruised his head in his hair and they fell backwards into the sheets. They both closed their eyes. Then Dwight whispered something in his ear that had his eyes going wide and his heart racing. 

“J-j-jak-ke? H-h-he d-d-did-dn’t l-l-loc-ck y-your ch-ch-chain.”


“Y-you sh-shoould-d h-h-hook-k it-t-t back-k on or-or he might-t-t get-t-t m-mad!” 

Jake acted like he hadn’t heard him. His face had become hard and intent, eyes scanning the door and then the door that was locked from the outside. Dwight was nearly in tears as he realized that Jake wasn’t thinking about re-hooking his chain. He grabbed the other’s arm. 

“J-jak-ke, p-p-pleas-se! It-t-t c-c-could b-be a t-t-t-trap-p!” 

Jake’s searching gaze paused in acknowledgement. He looked down at Dwight. 

“But what if it’s not?”

“I-i-if it-t-t is, h-he’ll k-k-kill y-you! B-b-badly! A-a-alot!” Dwight’s words started to mesh together. He was shaking, more so than usual, working himself up. Jake latched onto his wrist and held the trembled palm close to his own beating heart. Fingers fumbled over his chest. 

“I’m here with you. It’s okay, Dwight. I’m not leaving the bed, okay? I’m just sitting here.”

“H-h-he’s g-g-gonna-a b-be m-m-mad!” 

“I’m not leaving the bed.”

“Y-your th-think-king about-t-t it!!” 

Jake couldn't’ respond truthfully to that. He wanted to reach out to the door and test the knob. Test the hinges and then scale the walls and the floor and piping. It all seemed so secure. 

“H-he’s d-d-done th-thi-i-is t-t-to m-me!” Dwight pushed, grabbing at Jake’s arm. “D-don’t-t-t b-be st-t-tupid lik-k-ke m-me!!” 

Jake closed his eyes, buried all the horrible disappointment he’d have to endure, and looked away from the door. He hugged Dwight close to his body and tucked his mouth close to his head. 

“Okay. Okay... “ Jake said softly. “I trust you, Dwight. I’ll hook the chain on.”

Dwight only nodded, cheeks streaming with tears. “Th-thank-k y-you, Jak-ke.” 

“I… I want to follow your lead,” Jake continued, slowly, uncertainly. “To get on Trapper’s good side... “ Oh God, he felt sick saying these words. “I just… I need your help. A lot.”

Dwight hugged him back, nodding even more furiously. But when he looked up at Jake, there was grief in his eyes. 

“Y-y-you h-have t-t-to p-promis-s-se not-t-t t-t-to l-l-lose y-yours-s-self-f-f!” 

“Dwight…” Jake said sadly. 


“Don’t worry about that. I won’t. But if we can’t escape now… being good gives us leverage.” And maybe he was a little scared of the potential punishments. They’d been steadily getting worse. “We’ll leave together, okay? You can live with me at my tree.”

Dwight shakily smiled, face pressed into Jake’s chest again. “I’d lik-ke th-that.”

“Me too.” 

Jake held Dwight a moment longer before latching the chain back onto his collar. It snapped on with a click of finality. It was more difficult to do that he’d like to admit, but once it was over with, he sunk back into the bed with Dwight wrapped against him. They’d gotten used to cuddling. Jake even dared to kiss the top of Dwight’s head, and earned a small peck on his collarbone for it. The gentle touch sent a jolt of something through Jake. He didn’t get to decipher these sensations before the handle to their room suddenly turned. 

Trapper entered the room. He paused, as if surprised. Jake and Dwight went tense against each other, both silent and still on the bed as the killer slowly stomped over. He circled the frame before he stopped, looming over their heads, that wicked grin upside down. 

“I think I’m speechless,” Trapper said, giving Jake’s chain a tug. “The survivalist didn’t even try to leave?”

His fingers ran down its length to the loop at Jake’s neck. His new pet bared his teeth as he was yanked from the mattress and away from a fearful Dwight. But he didn’t fight back. Trapper dragged him to the foot of the bed and had him kneel there. 

“I was returning with a punishment in mind,” Trapper began, straightening out Jake’s back and titling up his chin like a show dog. Jake reluctantly kept the pose. “But I see it has to be tweaked into something more… pleasant. What a good boy. You even hooked yourself back to bed for me!” His mocking, if genuinely elated tone, shifted to amused. “Dwight warned you, didn’t he? Either way, the self control is admirable.”

Jake kept still as a heavy hand patted his head and ruffled his hair. He grit his teeth to keep from biting. That gleeful tone was worse than any physical pain. Jake somehow kept himself still. Trapper kept petting him a moment, as if to test his patience some more, before finally drawing away. 

“Since you didn’t even move, you can keep the leash off. But you better do as you're told or this’ll get painful real quick.” 

Jake nodded. 

“None of that. From now on, say ‘yes, Master’ or ‘no, Master’.”

Jake ground his teeth harder. But he saw Trapper’s arm go to move and forced himself to utter the phrase he’d heard Dwight say several times now. It made his stomach flip hearing the other say it. Doing it himself felt like some kind of self-torture. 

“Yes, Master.” He said it harsher than he should have. 

Trapper merely chuckled, patting his head again as he reached for Dwight, unhooking him and bringing him to Jake’s side. They were made to sit on their knees, one stone faced and one nervously trying to keep from fiddling with his fingers. Jake may have looked steady, but he too was prickling with anxiety. Trapper was opening the door, stepping aside and gesturing for a guest to come in. A very familiar guest. 

Jake sucked in a harsh breath, mostly in shock, and Dwight looked worryingly between him and the masked guest - a man with long black robes and a white, ghoulish face. He strolled in like he’d been there a million times before. A little camera twirled between his fingers. He whistled, still playing with it like a butterfly knife as he looked around. 

“Nice place you have down here,” Ghostface said. Then the mask looked at the survivors. “And what a nicer pair of toys~”

Jake really hated this killer. The way he murdered his family while cracking jokes and laughing while taking fucking photos with a peace sign above a slit throat. Dwight, who had never seen this killer before, became increasingly skittish alongside Jake’s increasing hostility. He’d glared at Ghostface and leaned his shoulder into Dwight’s, pushing him back just a little. He really didn’t want this fuck anywhere near him. But he didn’t get to decide that. 

“He needs a little more training,” Trapper said conversationally, strolling towards the bed. Jake glared at him too, his growing anger replaced with dread as the finger under his collar yanked him from Dwight. 

“Hey, I get it. It takes time to train a new dog.”

“He’s learning. Slowly. But this one on the other hand…” Trapper reached out to pet Dwight, keeping Jake still by the back of his neck as he sat on the edge of the bed. Dwight didn’t move from the touch. He leaned into it, and kissed Trapper’s palm when it ran down his cheek. “He’s very well trained.”

Ghostface made a sound that had Jake fuming. He felt the grip on his neck tighten before it shoved him face first into the sheets. 

“Stop glaring at our guest, bitch. Remember this was supposed to be a punishment. It can change at any time.” Trapper looked to Ghostface. “You know the deal. Let’s get started.”

Jake resisted the urge to try and jerk from under the hold. What deal? What was going on?

“Let’s.” Ghostface said, voice telling of a wide grin. He raised his camera. “So… which of your dogs wants the first close-up.”

“Dwight. Show Jake here how to act before he gets himself in trouble. Off the bed, on the ground.”

Dwight shakily slid from the mattress, hitting the ground ungracefully before righting himself on all fours. Trapper and Ghostface both laughed at his reddening face. 

“Alright, cutie, Smile for the camera. Let’s get a few that aren’t too graphic first. That way, when they look through the photo stack, it’ll keep getting worse and worse.”

Dwight’s face went pale. Jake stopped breathing altogether. His heart started to race faster than it did during a chase. Not the survivors. Oh fuck, he can’t do this! I can’t be seen like this! Jake could only imagine the look of horror on Meg or Claudette’s faces. See Laurie’s absolute disgust and hear David’s curses. Quentin… he’d already seen the whole, terrible picture. Shame and embarrassment grew heavily in his chest. 

“That’s actually a smart idea,” Trapper said. 

“And that actually sounded like an insult. But thanks. So… can I move him around myself? Or are you taking care of the posing?”

Trapper grabbed Jake’s hair and forced his head up to watch. “Take the first several yourself. Keep it just his face for now. Then I’ll take over.”

Ghostface gave a salute with his camera. The first flash lit up the basement. Dwight’s eyes went wide, then dizzily readjusted. 

“Oh! Very nice,” the killer said happily. “What do you think, big guy?”

His face was lit up by the camera’s glowing screen before turning it to Trapper. Dwight was flinching from the sudden white flash, cheeks glossy with tears and bottom frame cut off just under his collar. It was hard to tell if he was naked in the shot, but not impossible to guess. 

“Take more like that. Then you can take pictures of his mug,” Trapped added, giving Jake a small shake. “I want them together in the next set of shots.”

Dwight winced as a few more flashes lit up the basement. Jake was forced to the ground in his place, and his own photos were taken. He tried to keep his face as hard as possible. To make it appear to his friends that he was still holding on strong. But Trapper got up and stomped the back of his foot, causing the survivor’s face to twist in pain. Ghostface chuckled at that, and showed off the resulting image. Jake caught a glance, and was ashamed to see he looked like he was crying. Not at all how he’d imagined. He’d thought his pained face would look more… well, less pathetic. 

His attention turned to a low groan. Trapper had sat back down on the foot on the bed. He spread his legs apart and started to rub at the clothed bulge already hardening. Ghostface chuckled and snapped a shot of Jake’s disgusted look. 

“Hehe, you’re gonna wanna save that one, Evan. After you break the dog, you’ll wanna remember the good ol’ breaking days.”

“I already get plenty of that one’s rebelliousness. I’ll remember it plenty. Now let’s hurry this up. I want shots of them under my cock and balls. You’re the camera man though, so direct them how it looks best. I want the survivor fucks to see every detail.”

“Such an honor. Alright, then…” Ghostface tapped at his long chin in thought. “Let’s get glasses to start suckling on your balls while the little stink-eye can start licking your shaft. But do it slow and reach with your tongues. I need the shots to cover your faces and his junk.”

The camera came up and a gloved hand gestured for the pets to scoot on either side of their Master’s throbbing cock. Jake felt incredibly reluctant. He wanted to act out. Dwight’s fingers grazed over his hand, and they locked hands for a moment. 

“Aw, look, Evan. Their holding hands!” Snap! “I bet you jerk off while they make-out, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up and keep snapping shots,” Trapper growled. 

Holding a palm up in defeat, the killer kept snapping close-ups. “I’m not judging, to let you know. I’m actually quite jealous.”

Trapper ignored him and leaned back, opening his legs more. He placed a hand on the back of Jake’s head and led him to the tip. 

“Suck on it, slut,” he ordered. “Gets shots of that, then of Dwight under my balls”

Snap! Snap! “Gotcha. Hey doggie.” He snapped at Jake.” Purse your lips more around the mushroom head, it’ll look better.”

Jake took a sharp breath through his nose and did as he was told. After a few shots, Ghsotface knelt down for a good view under the balls. Dwight, suddenly in the spotlight, started to work a bit more eagerly. A bit more carefully in how he moved. Trapper moaned and threw his head back. Ghostface was only able to get two good pics of ball sucking before Trapper shoved both pets back. 

“Heads together. Now.” He grunted, furiously jerking himself off. “Get shots of this.”

Dwight had already leaned forward. The survivor knew time was precious and grabbed Jake by the arm to tug him over. Their cheeks pressed together just as Trapper came over both their faces in three, thick loads. Every second, a new photo was taken. Dwight’s glasses were coated and so were Jake’s lips, tightly pursed. When the killer was done, he rubbed his dick in the cum, smearing it and letting his guest snag a few more shots. 

Trapper wiped his semen-coated hand on Jake’s hair and zipped himself back up. His pets fell back to the ground and huddled close, waiting for this to end. 

“You’re sure you can make physical copies?” Trapper asked Ghostface after readjusting himself. 

“I already told you! The Entity takes care of this shit. You’re not the only one who earns rewards, though I’ve never gotten anything quite as nice as Mr. Original here.”

“I serve the Entity and it rewards me.”

“Well, what do I gotta do? Suck its dick to get a survivor?”

“Just play well and amuse it,” Trapper said bluntly. “But for now, you can have a taste. As promised.”

Fucking. What?

Both the survivors’ heads whipped towards each other. Jake grabbed ahold of Dwight’s hand but was yanked back before he could get a good grip. Trapped had grabbed Jake by the collar and started to haul him back to the bed. Dwight remained on his knees, reaching out with trembling hands a lost look on his face. 

“You’ll do as he says, what he says,” Trapper was telling Jake. Ordering him like this was some normal chore to do. “Understood, pet?”

Jake huffed shortly through his nose. He didn’t nod, or respond with that disgusting phrase. Trapper huffed back. 

“You gonna give me an answer, boy?”

Jake opened his mouth. It was a split second decision. ‘Yes, Master ’ would have been so easy to say. Yet he couldn’t stand it anymore. Not when he was going to be punished for following orders anyway. 

“Fuck y-”

He hit the ground with a crack. A tooth chipped and blood pooled in his mouth as Jake groaned into his arm. As he recovered from the hit, Trapper grabbed his collar again. But this time, he was being led in the opposite direction - towards the door. His thoughts were too confused to catch up. 


“This is your fault,” Trapper said darkly. Jake started to struggle a little, but his head hurt too much. “Dwight will take your place, and meanwhile, I’ll be giving you a punishment for resisting my orders. A bitch does what his owner demands. I’ll make sure you learn that right now.”

“I never thought I’d get the opportunity to play with your infamous pet.” Ghostface gushed. “Gee, thanks, Evan!” 

“It’s just this once. And I’m locking you in here. You have as long as it takes for this bitch’s punishment,” Trapper said. “Don’t kill him. And don’t leave him in a state that I have to kill him afterwards. Got it?”

Jake kicked out. His head throbbed and he fell back down. Dwight was still kneeling on the ground, breathing rapidly but near frozen otherwise.

“You have my word. We’re just gonna have a little fun. Right, Dwight?” 

Ghostface knelt beside the quaking survivor, arm wrapping around Dwight’s neck to pull him in like a friend posing for a selfie. Dwight didn’t struggle but it was obvious he wanted to. Jake fought even harder, biting at the hand that held him. Trapper slapped him so hard he fell sideways, limp and hanging by his arm at an awkward angle. Even in his daze, he could see Dwight unable to keep from crying, his frightened gaze latching onto Jake’s fuzzy one. 

The saboteur was dragged from the room while Dwight was locked inside.  

Chapter Text

The items were laid out in a line. There were four in total, that the crow had brought to them - a piece of a locker and a gen, the tip of a hook, and a bundle of grass. Quentin, like the rest of the survivors, were scouring their brains for what these things meant. This crow was, afterall, one of Jake's. 

"I don't get it," Laurie said for the fourteenth time. Quentin tried to hold in a sound of annoyance. He'd rather just everyone leave so he could mull over this alone. It felt like no one here had any idea what they were talking about. 

"Um, maybe it has to do with pin pointing something? Maybe we have to find out how they all connect." Claudette answered. 

"We've been trying to do that for the last two days!" 

Quentin rolled his eyes and stared harder at the items. Especially the grass. Quentin had been staring at the broad, dark stems the last few days since the crow had brought them. They'd taken on a brownish hue now, but still, the dreamwalker stared. He'd seen this shape and color before, but had a hard time recalling exactly where. He just knew it was in the MacMillian Estate. 

"Hey, grumpy," Meg said, crouching beside him. Quentin jumped, not having noticed her, and tried to smooth out his features. He'd been acting more short-tempered every day. It was getting harder to grapple with it. "The crow is back. And it brought something else."

"What?" Quentin perked up along with Laurie and Claudette. 

"What is it?" the resident healer asked. 

"It brought a piece of wood, but now it's dancing around it and acting funny. Nea told me to find you and grab all the other things it brought."

"We should hurry, then." 

Quentin nearly fell over himself grabbing their four clues. Meg helped him up, giving him a little smile before sprinting off into the woods. Laurie was on her heels. Claudette was the only one to keep pace with his tired jog. But she looked distracted, biting her lip with near foggy eyes. 

"You okay?" Quentin asked, happy he wasn't the one being as that for once. 

"Huh?" She looked to him, clarity flooding back to her face. "Oh yeah, sorry. Just... I hope this clue actually connects the dots a little. It's starting to feel a bit... useless."

Quentin wasn't sure what to say to that. Claudette, realizing her mistake, shot him a sad smile. "Sorry. I just got out of a trial. I'm feeling a little tired. Let's see what this bird is dancing about."

"Yeah," Quentin nodded along after her. 

They followed after the others until they reached the campfire. They were all already there, surrounding the crow in a half-circle. As Claudette and Quentin pushed through, they saw the crow dancing around a thin piece of light colored wood. There was a small 'x' marked in its middle. The crow kept flipping it in the air at them and flapping its wings. 

"I wish we spoke crow..." Meg muttered. 

"I think it might be havin' a seizure," David said. 

"It might be..." she agreed. 

"What's with the x?" Laurie asked. 

"I don't know," Nea said. "It made it when it brought it to us. It keeps flipping it over."

Quentin pursed his lips, blocking out everyone else. This crow was trying to tell them something, and he was going to figure it out. He knelt into the grass. Meg gave him a curious look. Nea and David had started to bicker, because David wasn't sure they could even trust 'a dumb animal'

"These things alert the killer in trials!" David was shouting. 

"This one is close to Jake!" 

"How do we know that? They all look the same!" 

Quentin shook his head. The crow was Jake's for sure. It had that familiar impatience about it as it flipped the wood. Why was it flipping the wood when it just left the other things? Quentin laid out the other crow's items in the grass. The bird immediately fluttered over and started to take them back to the wood, placing them in seemingly random places around it. While most were watching the crow, Nea and David were still being too loud. Quentin had a headache. 

"What's it doing?" 

"Rearranging things, it looks like."

"Oh!" Meg perked up. "It's like 'x' marks the spot, right?"

"Oh my god, like a map!?" Nea jumped nearly on top of David, trying to shove past him. He was trying to do the same though, and they ended up just falling to the dirt together. 

"Meg, you're right! It's telling us where something important is." Laurie breathed. "That must be where a hook is. And a gen by the locker! But, what is that plant?"

"Aren't there lots of places with tall grass?" Meg asked. 

There was a sudden beat of silence under the crow's wing beats

"I think I know," Claudette said. She adjusted her glasses under the limelight and cleared her throat. "It's only on the East side of the MacMillian Estate. Near that big metal factory that sometimes appears." 

Quentin perked up, both in dismay and excitement. The MacMillian Estate was huge and sectioned off in several different parts for different trials. The factory was a giant shell - some kind of warehouse with a little overseer office above the work tables. Quentin had a faint idea of where this generator and hook would be. 

"It's just a mutated species of crab grass, but there are tons of different kinds in different maps. But yeah. I'm pretty sure that's where it is."

"So what is the wood?" Laurie questioned. 

"An entrance, maybe?" David suggested. He looked over at Nea's smirk, and rolled his eyes. "You think this bird might actually be Jake's, then fine. If it's a lead, then fuck it."

"There's a sunken building there," Quentin suddenly said. David and everyone else looked to him. His voice was soft, but he hardly ever spoke anymore that it attracted all the attention. He ignored many of the looks. The usual that were sent his way: pity, worry. "I'm pretty sure. It's near that factory with the office. The ground there is all wood, but it’s kinda tucked back by the wall." With how long he'd been here, Quentin recalled hiding there a few times. 

"Yeah, he's right," Nea said. "There's no vault there, so I avoid it."

"Fuck, really?" The hope in David's voice was painful. 

"We should make a plan for when we have a trial there," Laurie said. 

"A game plan! Yeah, sounds good!" 

But a game plan would have to wait. Quentin gasped as something shifted beneath his sternum. 

"No! Damn it!" He couldn't help but shout in frustration. God, he was tired and worn. So fucking worn. He saw Meg's head whip in his direction with wide, worried eyes. But three other survivors had put their hands to their chests too. 

"We'll stay here, planning, until you get back," Meg promised. 

Quentin nodded as he felt himself be pulled into another trial. 



He was fucked anyway. And he was angry. So angry and so sick of being treated like an object with no purpose but to be used. Jake thrashed in Trapper's grip. His head still hurt like a bitch, but the pain had simmered under his growing desperation. If he was gonna be punished anyway, he figured he might as well get out the worst of his pent-up frustration. 

"Fuck you! We're not toys! We're not your things! You can't just give him away! You freak!"

Trapper ignored him. His strides were quick and long. Jake was pretty much being dragged along by his struggling feet. He kept throwing insults, even as they crossed into one of several metal buildings scattered around the estate. 

Trapper slammed him into the ground, pushing the air from the survivor's lungs. A hand gripped his arm with such force, it would bruise. Jake stilled, if only to keep from snapping his bone, breathing furiously though his flared nostrils. 

"Since you're so adamant on being a nuisance..."

The cleaver shined in the dull light. Jake was kicked onto his back. He snarled like an animal as a boot stomped into his chest. His hands gripped the heel to keep it from breaking his sternum. It felt like it might crack. Then the cleaver came close to his mouth. Trapper dug his fingers into Jake's mouth, prying it open. 

His screams turned gargled and choked moments later. Crows flew off into the sky, startled, and Jake watched them go with wild, agonized eyes. He kept screaming, thrashing on the ground as he held his bloody mouth closed. Trapper tossed his tongue carelessly into the bushes, kicking him sharply in the ribs to stop his screaming. 

"Shut the fuck up, bitch! That's nothing compared to what I have in store. Maybe then, you'll act proper."

He was grabbed by the ankle and dragged, clawing at the dirt and grass, to the manor. Back down to that terrible basement. Jake's body plunked down each step, still thrashing and leaving behind a trial of red. Down the halls and past the other locked doors, Jake was shoved into the dark, stone room. 

Jake thrashed as he was thrown into the ground. A boot kicked his head to stun him a moment as a heavy weight settled onto his back. The cleaver started to cut into his flesh before he had a chance to realize what Trapper was doing. 

"From now on, you'll address me as Master everytime you open that fucking mouth of yours. No matter what I ask of you, you're going to give me proper respect and you're going to do it graciously. Otherwise, I'll keep your tongue cut out permanently. 

The tip of the cleaver slid under the long gash it had made in Jake's back. He screamed, more blood caking the ground. Trapper gripped the flayed end of the cut and then pulled it hard like a band-aid. Jake felt nothing but white-hot agony. It got even worse when Trapper decided to strip another piece of skin, this time tugging it at an incredibly slow pace. Jake felt every tug and tear. He couldn't stop screaming. His legs tried to kick out at Trapper's but he only earned himself a stomp to the ankle and broken bones. Trapper didn't stop flaying until half his back was a red mess. Jake screamed louder when he was roughly flipped over, back shifting against the dirty stone. 

"You've been nothing but a nuisance since you've been given to me," Trapper said darkly. "You're going to be memorizing some rules tonight. One by one, you're going to brand them into your head. We're going to start off easy." There was a cruel mocking jilt when he said that. Jake felt his fear start to climb higher. "Rule one: pets don't get to walk on two legs."

. He grabbed Jake's ankle and jerked him back. He shrieked at the tug of his flesh and the brandishing of the cleaver. 

" Ngh! Ngh !" His useless tongue begged. 

His pleading turned to wordless shrieks as the blade hacked into his leg. He tried to crawl away, but Trapper held him down and made quick, but sloppy work of his limb. Jake banged his head in the ground, hard enough to daze, when he reached the bone. When the limb actually separated and the weight fell to the ground with a thump, Jake's entire body was shaking and soaked with sweat. He shook his head frantically when Trapper grabbed his other ankle. 

"Ngh! Plllhhh! Plhh ngh, pllh!

"Shut up, slut! Rule two. Pets don't fucking speak unless spoken to." 

Jake barely heard him. His other leg was being hacked at. The blood sprayed over his face and chest, coloring his already horrified expression with disgust. The bone snapped. Jake's back arched and his head hit the stone again. He wondered if bashing his skull in would do him in any quicker than blood loss. 

Trapper threw the leg to the side. He stood there, watching. Jake didn't wait to see what else he'd do. His mind was reeling in panic and pain. He just needed to move. To do something. His nails ached as they helped pull him towards the shut door - his only escape. 

Trapper laughed at him and fell onto his back. A hand pinned his arm. Jake began sobbing. Great heaving breathfuls of agony. He shook his head violently. 

Don't! Don't! Please, please, this is too much!

His words came out bloody and gargled. He screams himself hoarse when his left arm was cut off. It was thrown over the top of his legs. The other arm came off as easily as the first. Jake stared straight ahead, his whole body throbbing in intense pain. Trapper got off of him. A boot kicked his ribs. 

"Get up."

Was he fucking crazy?! Jake thought. He grit his teeth as the boot's toe struck back into his side. It stayed there and jostled him upward. Jake groaned as his bloody stumps scraped over the stone. He collapsed as soon as the boot was gone. 

"I said get up, slut!" 

Trapper lost his patience and grabbed Jake's hair. The survivor yowled as he was hoisted up and set on his flailing limbs, the bone and mangled flesh screaming at the pressure. But Trapper's cleaver was slicing into his back, dragging out long lines until he stopped moving. Jake breathed harsh, little breaths through his nose. He was trembling, and sweat dripped off him in streams. Trapper pet at his head and stepped away. It took everything in Jake not to fall over again. 

"Come here." Trapper demanded, stopping several feet away. 

Jake let out a despaired sob, head hanging as he tried to move. The steps were ungodly painful. He slipped on his own blood and gore, nausea welling inside him. If he had his tongue, he'd be begging to just be fucked right now. Anything but this. 

" Ah cnt! " He sobbed. " Ah cnt dt... ngh, pls, plhhs!"

"Rule three: obey Master's commands without question. No matter what condition you're in. I expect obedience."

Trapper walked forward to grab him by the collar. Jake shrieked as he was dragged to the other side of the room. The floor was drenched red now. He could feel his heart rate slowing down. Jake held onto the fact that he didn't have much time left. His cheek felt numb where it was smashed against Trapper's boot. A thick finger wedged into his hole, dry and burning. He hissed as it hooked and lifted his ass up. 

"Head down. Lift your ass higher."

Jake's body sagged to the side as he tried to obey. He forced himself to stand up on one of his fucked up arms. The pain that went up the limb made his shoulder quake and his neck cramp. He desperately tried to keep his head up. But Jake was losing too much blood, and his eyes were closing before he realized that his head had hit the stone. 

When he woke up, the pain was gone. His body was intact, naked, and splayed out before him. Trapper was leaning against the wall, arms uncrossing as if he'd been waiting for a while. Jake's dismembered limbs were gone from their corner, but the floor was still thick with blood. Jake looked up to the killer as he loomed over him. He held up his cleaver. Red dripped onto Jake's cheek. 

"What are the rules?"

Jake's face went pale. "I-I don't know," he stammered, racking his brain. 

"What are the rules?" Trapper asked again, more forcefully. 

"I don't know," Jake repeated, voice higher. He'd recalled Trapper saying some shit about rules, but it had all happened so quickly, it'd been just a pain blur.

Trapper stepped down onto his ankle. Jake hissed. "Rule one: pets don't walk on two legs." 

Jake screamed out as Trapper stomped on his ankle. He reached out as if to stop him from breaking the bone, only to go frozen as blood splattered his once clean face. 

"Stop! Stop it! I'll be good! Please, I'll be good!" 

Trapper paused from hacking at his leg. That mask shifted to Jake, and the survivor had the feeling that he somehow fucked up. He choked as a hand wrapped around his throat. He refrained from grabbing at the offending arm, too scared to be defiant. 

"What is rule two?" Trapper asked. 

Jake swallowed thickly. His eyes shut tight. "Uh... uh? Oh fuck-" he stumbled over his words with a cold panic. And then it came to him a flash of light. "Don't speak unless spoken to!" 

The hand around his throat loosened. "Good boy."

Jake breathed out harshly as Trapper pulled away. But his relief was short lived when the blade came back down on his half-way sawed off leg. 

"No! Fuck! I was right!" He screamed. 

The cleaver stopped. Trapper grabbed his head and slammed it into the stone. His fingers nearly pulled his hair from his scalp. 

"Open your mouth." 

"Fuck off!" Jake was sobbing again. He didn't understand what he was doing wrong. "I answered the question! I'll be good, I'll stop fighting!" 

Trapper slammed his head again. While Jake was stunned, Trapper removed his mask. He grabbed Jake's chin and forced him to look up. 

"This is the face of your Master, boy. You're going to learn these rules like they’re your holy script, and follow them. And you're going to learn the same way Dwight did. I am not a kind Master. And I don't allow much room for mistakes."

His thumb prodded at the bottom of his lip. Jake tried to keep his teeth closed. But his jaw was pressed tightly and he wasn't sure he wanted to fight anymore. His leg throbbed. He knew it was coming off. Dirty fingers took the pink flesh. 

"Rule two: pets don't speak unless spoken to," Trapper said clinically. "I'll give you a few seconds to memorize that."

pets don't speak unless spoken to. don't speak, just don't every open my fucking trap againfuck-!!

The anticipation was almost as bad as the pain, but without a struggle, the cut was much more clean. Jake was gagging on his blood, screaming but never speaking, as his legs followed. He was kicked to his back and stared up at the ceiling. 

The pain was almost numbing at this point. He wasn't sure he even felt the worst of it as Trapper pinned down his right arm. But he felt the tearing. The sawing motion made him feel sick. It was as bad as the lighting hot bite of his bone snapping. He cried, refusing to look anywhere but at the cobwebs and trapped gnats. 

How long had it been since he'd seen the campfire? It felt like a lifetime ago. The thought caused another round of sobs to bubble in his throat. When all his limbs were gone once more, he was rolled onto them. He trembled against the pain, gritting his teeth to endure. The sooner he learned, the sooner it was over. 

"Are my lessons finally getting through that thick head of yours?" Trapper asked. 

Jake nodded. He nodded desperately, hoping it would appease the killer. 

"Good boy."

Trapper walked over to the other side of the room, and ordered him to walk over. Jake wanted to beg and plead. He just endured the agony and stumbled on slippery stumps across the room. It took him several minutes to make it the few feet, and Trapper patiently waited the entire time. Jake finally dropped at his feet, cheek to his boot. He drooled blood onto it, and blearily wondered if that was a bad thing to do. 

A hand combed in his hair. 

"That's my good dog." The petting turned to a solid grip. His head wretched back and he was sick to find joy in the blade that cut at his throat. He was dropped into the stone and fading fast. 


Jake didn't get to rest. He died another three times before he learned all five rules. If he forgot or didn't answer fast enough, a limb was taken or his skin was flayed. By the third time he woke up, he'd answered them off as if he'd grown up with it on his bedroom wall. 

Rule one: pets don't get to walk on two legs.

Rule two: pets don't speak unless spoken to.

Rule three: obey Master's commands without question. 

Rule four: always address Master appropriately.

Rule five: Master is everything. 

He'd listed them off before Trapper even had a chance to ask for them. The killer was silent a moment, staring down at the cowering survivor whose blood now painted the entire room red. As if terrified of Trapper's silence, Jake slowly edged forward on his hands and knees and kissed the toe of his boot. Trapper gave a hum of approval. But what he said next, made Jake’s body go cold in shock. 

"Better. But I don't think you've learned your lesson."

Jake's eyes snapped wide open. A terrified, agonized croak left his throat. 

I learned! I learned! I'll be good! Oh fuck, I'll be good! 

His obedience turned to full fledged panic as Trapper hoisted him over his shoulder, unminding of the metal bits that cut at his freshly sealed skin. Jake knew the rules. He knew them so well at this point, but he couldn't help his begging. He was so fucking scared. 

"Please, please, I'm sorry. I'll be good," Jake pleaded. "I can't take it anymore."

"You're not sorry enough," Trapper grunted, winding Jake with a shoulder to the gut. "And I see you're already forgetting the rules. You need this."

The saboteur groaned and went limp. He didn't dare push his luck further. He was carried out of the manor to an open space near the middle of the Estate. Jake was dropped onto his ass by a short, metal stake in the ground. He didn't try to run, even when Trapper knelt down to examine the stake's hold in the dirt. 

A large hand shot out and grabbed his ankle. Jake didn't struggle as he was man-handled onto his knees. They were kicked apart and his arms were wretched behind his back. His ankles and wrists were tied at the stake together. The click of a chain held them there. The position was horribly uncomfortable, and forced Jake's back to arch, presenting his naked body to the elements. He shivered against the cold, eyes darting to the dark sky in humiliation as his leather collar was hooked back around his throat. 

Jake let out a tiny whine as Trapper stood, surveying his pet. 

"The second part of your punishment starts when a trial begins," Trapper said cruelly. 

Jake sobbed. He didn't want to argue back. He was too scared. And that made him angry. But his anger felt so impossibly weak. Despair was starting to overwhelm it. Despair that he started to actually bend to this killer's will. A hand carted through his hair, gently, before twisting in the locks. 

"You'll remain here until a trial starts. And when it does, let's give them a good show, huh?"

Jake sobbed, rather than beg. And then Trapper was gone, leaving Jake to wait alone in the cold. 



Dwight was terrified. More so than when he made Master angry. At least he could anticipate those punishments. Not only was Jake being tortured right then, but Dwight had been left alone with a stranger. A stranger who he'd had no prior interactions with. Had no idea how to act to keep him happy. Pain was always involved in learning. 

"Watcha' looking so freaked for?" Ghostface asked. "I'm not going to do anything that'll hurt. Don't you trust me?"

He released his arm from around the survivor's neck, sitting criss cross from him on the floor. Dwight was still on his knees and his eyes were just level with the mask's mouth. The mask's sorrowful expression was off putting whenever its wearer spoke. He sounded so care-free and jovial, as if joshing with a friend. 

A gloved finger reached up to trace down his face. Dwight shook, but didn't pull away. He closed his eyes tightly when the finger turned to a whole hand splaying over his face. It trailed back down his cheek, to his neck, to the ring on his collar. Dwight was eased forward. He obediently crawled into the robed man's lap. The robes were surprisingly soft and Dwight found it easy to relax against them. His legs were grabbed and gently pulled around the killer's hips. 

"There we go," Ghostface cooed. His gloved hands kept petting his face. Dwight held his breath with each stroke. 

"Man, you're so tense. And you're still shaking. Evan really fucked you up, didn't he? He's gotta be a real pain in the ass to please. But me?" The hand pat his cheek. "I'm more of a sugar over vinegar kinda guy."

Dwight squeaked as a hand lowered to tweak a nipple. The other ran down his back. It ran the length of his spine, then back up, fingernails scratching through the fabric. The sensation was pleasant but almost too much. Dwight squirmed. It earned him a breathy laugh from Ghostface. 

"I'd heard about you before. All the killers have. To be honest, I thought Evan was bullshitting us for the longest time. I mean, I'm probably the best player out of all these freaks, and I haven't gotten a reward near as sweet as you."

His head lowered, mask overtaking Dwight's vision. Ghostface's hand grabbed the chin and went to remove it, but before Dwight could see his face, he was spun around and fell heavily into the robes. They draped around him like mist, trapping in the heat of the killer's body. 

Dwight hated how comfortable he felt. Or, he hated how much he enjoyed it. But it quickly became too claustrophobic when Ghostface's arms snaked across his front, pinning his arms in place. Soft lips brushed against his ear. Dwight whined at the sensation of soft kisses. His head turned to try and relieve the overwhelming growth of pleasure. Only when Ghostface started to suck on his neck did Dwight struggle. The hold on him was firm though. 

"You're so soft," Ghostface said between licks. "And you taste so good. Evan's a lucky man."

Fingers kept playing with his body. His scent was breathed in and the air tickled his neck. It was so unlike Master's touch. He was always all encompassing and bruising. Ghostface's touch, even his clothes, were like a mist. It seeped over his body and made him shiver, aloof. Master's touch was aggressive and firm and unyielding. Yet this... Dwight couldn't suppress the slight shiver that ran up his spine. He was ashamed to admit it was pooling quickly into his lower stomach. 

"Do I make you feel good?" Ghostface whispered. "Such a sweet, little thing like you needs a loving touch, don't you? You're so fragile. So small. So... weak. I could hurt you if I pressed too hard." His arms gave Dwight a playful squeeze, eliciting a tiny whimper from him. 

But then hands lightly began to play along his thighs. The fingers ran up and down quickly, so light and barely touching, he wasn't sure how much more he could handle. His hands gripped at Ghostface's wrists. Dwight whimpered again, earning a chuckle against his skin. 

"Ooh, what a lovely sound. All these noises, but no words yet? Why don't you tell me about yourself? What makes you tick?"

"P-p-plea-ease-" Dwight begged. 

A finger traced his chin. Lips pressed to his ear. "Please what, baby?"

"D-d-don't-t-t hurt-t-t me-e-e."

"I already told you I wouldn't hurt you, ya dope," came the playful reply.  

Dwight's fingers were peeled from the killer's wrists and pinned together. He sobbed as Ghostface shifted and got to his knees. His mask was yanked back down and the survivor spun around. Dwight was eased onto his back, wrists pinned at his chest as he stared up at a camera lense. 


"But I might take a few mementos to remember the occasion," Ghostface said, a grin in his voice. "I hope you don't mind too much."


"Had you I met you in our last world, I would have watched you for sure." A thumb edged into the corner of Dwight's mouth, pushing in. 


"I'd have watched your routine. I'd note every habit of yours, every day of every week, and get off knowing you couldn't see me. That's what I did in my old life. I had so many victims to choose from when I felt the urge. But now, there's such a lack of danger. Of potential consequences. Of risk." The thumb pressed onto his tongue, pushing a bit lower. "Suck."

Dwight quickly followed the command. 

"So well behaved, hehe."

Snap! Snap! 

"You know, sometimes, I didn't kill. Sometimes, I just liked to watch a certain subject. Subjects like you, who I didn't want to stop watching. I have a feeling you'd have been in my black book for a long, long time, Dwight."

His thumb popped from the survivor's mouth. Saliva was smeared down his neck as the hand splayed over his throat. Ghostface gave a gentle squeeze. Dwight's breath caught on a scared hiccup. 

Snap! Snap! Snap!

"Oh yeah~ these are going in my favorites folder."

Dwight felt his stomach curl. This killer was probably going to jerk off to these. And Dwight would have no idea. He started to blush at the idea, finding it incredibly humiliating. A hand pressed against his heated face. 

"You like that, knowing I'll be thinking of ya?" Ghostface teased. "Well, now that I know what you look like, I don't think I can help it. What do you think? You have a pose you wanna try?"

Dwight shook his head, closing his eyes. 

"That gives me an idea." 

Dwight trembled as gloved fingers ran over his temples and removed his glasses. They drug something soft over his ears and behind his head. His eyes, though still closed, darkened with another layer of black. The blindfold was tightened with a small knot. 

"And... just because you'll look so nice..." 

Dwight's wrists were pinned in front of him and tied off with a large, fancy-looking bow, made of pieces stripped from his flowing garment. Ghostface produced his camera again and started to snap off a few photos, walking around the trembling survivor as he did. When he tried to hide his erection, Ghostface tutted and gently kicked apart his legs. Dwight whined and looked away. 

Snap! Snap! Snap!

"Good boy. Keep them open just like that. What a pretty view I have."

Dwight tried to stay still. But while he was busy trying not to fidget, Ghostface's camera had wandered upward. He took a photo of all the walls. Of the door. Of the lock and the chains and everything else in between. He'd already gotten quite a few good shots of the hallways and trapdoor, thanks to his too-trusting host. 

Stomp, stomp, stomp. Speaking of the devil. 

Ghostface pulled back, looking up at the noisy ceiling. He took a few more shots of the trembling survivor, before his camera fell safely back into his sleeve. 

"Sounds like the old man is back. What a shame." 

Dwight breathed out a small bit of relief when his eyesight was handed back to him. Ghostface didn't untie his hands though. Rather, he scooped Dwight into his arms. The survivor flailed, then reached up to grab around his neck. Ghostface chuckled before gently laying him on the edge of the bed and stepping back. His fingers came up to frame the captive. 

"Man, I wish I had more time with you. All the poses I have in my head! You're the perfect muse, really."

He fell over Dwight, caging him with his arms. They fell into the sheets. His gaze was wide as Ghostface lifted his mask. Dwight caught sight of blue eyes and a brilliant, charismatic smile. It pressed into his lips and greedily sucked. It lasted only a second before Ghostface was sitting up, mask on, as the door's bolts were unlocked. 

"Thanks for the fun, sweet thing."

Dwight looked away from that white mask to Master. His body went cold, and his heart hammered with worry. Trapper was covered head to toe in blood. Jake wasn't with him, which meant he was probably dead and to be regenerated in the old basement. 

Oh Entity, what happened? 

Dwight stared at Master with wide, terrified eyes. He didn't notice when Ghostface slid off of him. He was only focused on the killer stomping forward with his cleaver still dripping red. He seemed to study Dwight, before looking to Ghostface. 

"Deal is done. Get out."

Ghostface smoothly slid up his hands and wandered from Dwight. When he reached the other killer, he spun on his heel and stopped by his side. 

"I'll send you the photos as soon as I get them."

"And send any that you took while you were here, alone with him."

"Of course. I ain't selfish." He started to walk out, hand raised in a lazy farewell and head tilting slightly over his shoulder. "Bye, Dwight."

Trapper slammed the door shut behind him. Dwight jumped, on his hands and knees as Master stomped over to him. Dwight immediately grabbed the bloody hand that came down to pet at his face, nuzzling into the palm. 

It's just blood. It's just blood. It's just a stranger's blood.

Dwight sobbed into the touch as the red smeared over his cheek. Trapper breathed heavily and leaned over him, encasing him with his weight. Strong arms wrapped around his body, mask thrown to the floor, and mouth on Dwight's neck and his tongue digging under the collar. Fingers splayed over his belly, picking him up to grind his ass into a rock hard dick. But Trapper didn't press into him. He just kept touching his pet, rough fingers so unlike Ghostface's almost feathery touches. 

"Ah~ Ah~" 

Dwight's breath started to pick up too. His face got immeasurably more red. A broad hand came down to his cock. It was already half-hard. With Jake's blood slicking it up, Dwight felt waves of guilt flood through him as he actually enjoyed himself. He couldn't help it. He reverted right back to before Meg opened his cell by accident and gave him hope for something other than this. 

Master rarely gave him pleasure like this. Dwight had no idea what he did to deserve this. He could count on his hand the times he'd been given a handjob, and the one time he got blown. Dwight still wasn't sure if that was a dream or not. But there'd been rewards for each breakthrough he had as a pet. His usual rewards just meant less pain than usual. But this? Dwight shoved down any shame he had left. He wanted this. 

Dwight had gotten so familiar with his Master, he could list off his kinks from his least to most favorite just from experience alone. Dwight's whole life he has been pleasing this body pressing into him. It would be so easy to just fall back into his role. To forget about Jake, just for this moment, and embrace that "love" he felt for Master. Dwight was well aware his affection wasn't real. But sometimes, it was easier to pretend. 

When he stopped, plans of escape started to take over his more idle moments. He'd been doing it since Jake and him had been taken. Ideations of freedom. Of walking in that forest again. Of sitting under the tree of crows. Of laughter at the campfire. Dwight's face scrunched in despair. He struggled to hold in his tears. He had been too nervous and scared to really get to know the other survivors. He wanted to talk to Quentin. And to Nea, outside their superficial conversations. If they could be called that. Dwight could barely speak, and he'd avoided the other strangers as much as he could, despite their attempts at friendliness. 

He was especially bitter that he didn't get to know Meg better, who he'd wondered about before his rescue - wondered if she died like him, or died permanently. It had been terrible not being able to know who that stranger had been. He had his chance. Now he'd never get to know the person behind that face. 

You can't think about that stuff. He'll notice you're distracted. 

And with the endless years of practice Dwight had, he was able to disconnect completely. There was no Jake. No survivors. No blood. Just him and Master and the reward he was getting for being a good boy. Dwight melted into Master's body and he ground his ass against the hard cock. His breaths were faint but quick, and he looked up and over to stare at the scarred, maskless face peering down at him. Master was smiling, far from the pissed vibes he'd been throwing off earlier. He leaned down to grab Dwight's lips in a hungry kiss, rocking him back and forth as he expertly jerked the survivor off. 

Dwight came with a cry, tears falling down his face as he whispered breathless praise into Master's mouth. 

"I love you. I love you. I love you," Dwight sobbed, over and over. "I love you. I love, Master. I love you so much."

His Master groaned as he sheathed himself into his pet, pinning him down and fucking him without mercy. Dwight kept repeating himself, a tiny piece of him hoping for some kind of answer in return. All he got was the sound of slapping flesh and Master's heavy breaths. 

Chapter Text

Fuck, fuck, this can't be happening!! 

Jake pulled fruitlessly at his restraints, His shoulders felt like they might pop out of his sockets. But the pain mattered little. The tug in his chest and the shift in the air meant that a trial was starting. The gen's dark lights had lit up like fireflies in the sky. The other survivors could stumble on him, naked as the day he was born, at any second. 

He tried to take a deep breath, but nearly choked on it when he heard running footsteps to his right, then a gasp. Jake’s eyes pinched shut as his face went near scarlet. 

“Oh god! Oh fuck! Hold on, I’ll - I’ll get you out of there!” 

Jake was blistering red now. It was David. His voice was as high as a fire alarm. When Jake dared to peek, he saw the man flustering over him, hands wanting to grab at the chains but either unsure, or not willing to touch his bare skin. 

“Fucking hell, just leave me the fuck alone!” Jake snapped. “David, please!”

The brit grabbed a hold of the lock and started to fiddle with it. He was making a point to keep his eyes focused on nothing else, ignoring Jake’s embarrassed, furious pleas. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” David kept repeating. It also sounded like he was trying to keep his own head level. “Oh fuck, this is some fucked shit.”

“You’re telling me,” Jake muttered, hissing as he felt the chains pinch his skin. 

“Sorry, fuck- I just-”

Jake’s eyes flew open towards the sound of a heartbeat. 

“David, run!” 

“Fuck, I- I can’t just leave ya here!” 



The man screamed as he was slashed across the back. He went off sprinting, leaving Jake covered in a long streak of red. Trapper wiped off his cleaver, gave Jake a rough pat on the head, and went after the wounded survivor. Jake didn’t dare spit curses at him or bare his teeth like he so desperately wanted to. 

Rule two: don’t speak unless spoken to. 

When he heard David scream out in pain again, his first thought wasn’t in fear for his friend. He wondered if he already broke that rule by pleading with David to leave. Trapper had to have heard him shout for the man to run. And now his tongue was going to be cut out again! Panic swirled in his chest and he closed his eyes. Was this going to be his life? He’d seen how damaged Dwight was. Jake feared that Trapper was already steadily pushing him down that path: mindless obedience. 

I’m so fucked. He thought. 

“I got you, it’s okay,” came a calm voice. 

Jake kept his eyes sealed shut. He flinched when something warm and soft draped over his hips and was tied off. Claudette silently began to work at his chains. Jake remained still and silent. He didn’t want to see her face. The pure, unfiltered humiliation was becoming hard to grapple with. The little bit of humility over his crotch did little to help. 

“Damn,” Claudette whispered. “I can’t get them open. I think they need a key.”

Jake wanted to tell her to run. To get the fuck out of here and just open the gates. Instead, he just ignored her. Ignored her when she asked if Trapper had a key, and when she asked (with tears in her voice) if he’d please just look at her because she loved and missed him. 

“Claude…” Jake whispered, almost too low to hear. “Please… Trapper wants you to try and free me. I think he’s going to do something fucked up to you, or to me, in front of you. Please. Get the fuck out. Win the trial. I’m begging you.”

She was silent for a moment. Jake flinched when a soft hand touched his cheek. It quickly retreated. 

“I’m sorry, Jake. I… I’m sorry we got trapped in this hell.”

“I don’t want to hear it-” Jake choked on a sob. “Please-”

“I’ll go. I won’t let him catch us.”

As if on cue, Trapper hooked David nearby. Claudette left under the man’s scream, and Jake titled his head towards the sky. He wished he could see stars. 


Jake closed his eyes again as Claudette was caught in a beartrap. The sick squelch of her failed escape attempt meant she hadn’t gotten very far. Jake almost wanted to chuckle at that. Come on Claude, you promised. 

He heard her pained struggling as she was carried back over to Jake and tossed on the ground. Jake ground his teeth together. It was hard to ignore her pained whimpers. The fabric draped over his hips was yanked off. Rough fingers combed through his hair. 

“Open your eyes, pet. Look.”

Jake did so without hesitance. The fabric had been Claudette’s flannel. She was laying in the dirt, just in her bra and with a gnarly gash around her calf. Jake felt touched that she literally gave him the shirt off her back. The gratefulness turned to sharp fear when Trapper started to set up three bear traps around Jake in a semicircle. Claudette was hefted off the ground and tossed onto the middle on. Her leg was ensnared again with a sickening crack. Trapper stepped back when he heard the sound of David being unhooked. 

“There’s the rest of your audience,” Trapper said, excitement in his voice. “I’ll let you and your friend catch up until I hunt them down. Your Master is giving you permission to tell her what a good fuck toy you’ve been.”

Jake couldn’t help the tears that slid down his face. Trapper just laughed and headed into the trees to hunt his prey. As soon as he was gone, Jake ducked his head and struggled to fight back his sobs. He wanted to just break down and sink into the floor. This was too much. His head throbbed like it was clouded in mist, and all he could feel was the parting of his limbs. He didn’t want to go through with this sick show, but he didn’t want to be hurt. It was too much! Too much!!

“Jake, please!” Claudette was shouting. But Jake had fallen into his own head, eyes shut tight, body rocking was well as it could in such a restrictive position. He was mumbling something under his breath. Claudette couldn’t reach him no matter how hard she tried. It was only when Trapper came back, carrying David on his shoulder, that Jake seemed to come to himself. He went silent and still, only flinching when the other survivor was dumped onto a beartrap. David held in a scream, clutching his trapped leg. 

“Ah, you fucker!” David screamed, directing all his attention and anger towards Trapper. “You’re a fucked up son-of-a-bitch! Low life, good for nothing- GAH!!” 

Trapper sunk the cleaver deep into David’s shoulder. The man went pale, shaking with pain as a boot to his chest shoved him off the blade and into the dirt. David lay there, holding the gaping wound. He kept spitting insults though, and earned another crack in the ribs. Trapper rolled him over, and used the other bear trap on his wounded shoulder. David fought back like a mad man, but was shoved too easily forward. He screamed and thrashed, but was unable to look away from Jake. The saboteur only then realized that he was crying too. That was crushing. David never cried. 

“Just one left to go. Where’d that fucker run off to?” Trapper muttered, stomping around the clearing after setting up one last trap. Jake tried to breath through his rolling emotions, the awkward and humiliating tension of seeing his friends making it difficult. He was a little surprised Claudette wasn’t trying to say anything to calm the situation. A quick peek at her, and Jake realized she seemed to be in shock. 


The last survivor had been found. Jake’s heart skipped a beat. That sounded like Quentin. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing the boy again. Not after the first time. But then Trapper came ambling back with the very survivor over his shoulder. Quentin thrashed, but went still when he noticed Jake. He only started to scream again when he was dropped onto a bear trap. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Trapper slapped Quentin hard enough to knock him into the ground, blood spurting. “You ain’t the one I want hollering right now. You’re all just an audience. I want you to see what survivors are good for after the Entity gets bored of you’.”

“Please, just stop,” Claudette whined, almost too soft to hear. 

Trapper smacked her too, and she went down with a cry. David grunted a curse through his bloodied teeth, and earned a kick. All the while, Jake held his tongue when, before, he’d been screaming insults right along with the brit. Now, he only had eyes for the cleaver and Trapper’s mood. 

"Now keep your lips sealed or I'll carve out your tongues and pull out your teeth," Trapper threatened. 

The survivors went silent, save for muffled groans and whimpers. Satisfied, the killer turned back to his pet and stood behind him. He grabbed ahold of his head to forced it to his friends. The blade trailed along his stomach. Jake felt sick, more from David's glare, than the shallow cuts, despite knowing the brit was looking at Trapper.

"Your fellow survivor is no longer a player in the Entity's games. It's an item now," Trapper began. 

He kicked Jake's knees farther apart and reached over his shoulder to grope his cock. Jake sucked in a harsh breath and tried to look up. Trapper tightened the grip on his jaw. 

"Look at them. Don't look away or I'm repeating your lessons, whore."

Jake looked. The pity and fear in their faces made him want to crumple. Poor Quentin was shaking with silent, but near violent, sobs. Jake mouthed 'I'm sorry' before he started to scream. Trapper was literally yanking his ball sack up as hard as he could. Jake was tied down too well to put up much of a struggle.  He wanted to plead. Oh God, he wanted to beg for it to stop. Trapper kept pulling and pulling. Sweat beaded at his forehead. He nearly swallowed his tongue trying to keep quiet. 

"Fucking christ, stop it-!" David choked out. Jake nearly pleaded with him. "Why are you doing this?!" 

"He's my fucking toy," Trapper growled. 

He twisted his hand. Jake yowled. Pain lanced up his gut and down his legs, making them shake. 

"You belong in this hell," Claudette said quietly. "You're a demon."

"You haven't seen anything yet, sweet heart," Trapper said cruelly. 

Jake closed his eyes as his master left his side with a hungry cleaver. He opened them when Trapper ordered him too. Tears streamed down his face as David and Claudette lost their tongues and gargled on their blood. Quentin shook, curled on the ground with a bent leg, as Trapper threatened him with the blade to keep being silent. He nodded furiously as he held his head under his trembling hands. 

"Don't want to end up like your annoying friends," Trapper chuckled, some of his frustration quenched. 

He went back to Jake, this time unbuckling his pants. Jake's shoulders trembled as he struggled to hold in his sobs. He felt so weak. So pathetic. So fucking stupid, as a hot throbbing cock slapped against his cheek. He heard David moan brokenly behind them. 

"Open that pretty mouth. Show your friends what a good slut you are."

Jake opened his mouth with a pitiful whine. The head slipped in between his lips and he gingerly sucked at it, nearly chocking when the shaft suddenly barreled down his throat. His body strained. He breathed heavily through his nose and tried to breath through the salty meat skull fucking him. Trapper's firm hands wrapped around his head as he thrust harder. Heavy balls slapped against Jake's chin. He groaned a little when he felt Trapper's boot press against his own balls. He struggled, and failed, to close his legs. He clenched and unclenched his fingers. The only thing he had control over. 

"Gah," Trapper moaned. "Good boy. That's a good cum eater."

His face turned red, more from humiliation than lack of oxygen. Though, that wasn't helping either. Trapper stopped moving all of the sudden. He held his hips flush to Jake's face, scratchy pubes curling in his nose and making it impossible to breath.  

Mmmph! Mpphpppffh! 

He gagged several times, nostrils flaring as they tried to suck in anything past Trapper's hair and flesh. The boot came back up to his balls. The killer groaned in pleasure as Jake's muffled whines vibrated down his shaft. The vibrations grew as the boot slowly began to bring more pressure onto his sack. Jake couldn't move. His heartrate picked up. He was scared. 

"I hope you've learned your lesson, Jake."

And then Trapper stepped down. Jake screamed around the cock. His balls were smashed into the ground. Trapper rotated his toe, flattening the sensitive organ and turning it a bright, painful red. Jake's gagging got louder. He thought he was going to pass out before Trapper jerked away. He sucked in a harsh mouthful of air. In the same motion, Trapper lifted his boot, then smashed his heel as hard as he could into Jake's balls. They split open, tearing with a burst of red. Jake screamed as loud as he ever had. Then, even louder, when Trapper's boot spiked down for a second beating. 

Still, Jake didn't beg. He just screamed himself hoarse, wishing and waiting for this to end, blind to anything but getting through this. Trapper wouldn't let up though. Jake was bleary eyed as the cock slapped him back across the mouth. He stopped his screaming to let it in, feeling disgusted that he was so quick to put "his Master" first. Trapper was breathing in ragged breathes. He furiously jerked himself off. Jake only winced when streams of hot cum sputtered across his eyes and mouth.

Pain still throbbed deep inside him. But it felt numb. As if his poor, beaten body knew it's punishment was coming to a close. Fingers played in his hair. He wanted to tell Trapper to fuck off and leave him be. Instead, he lifted his head to meet that mask. 

"What are the rules," Trapper growled. 

He didn't hesitate to answer. Hesitation meant pain. Endless pain. 

"Pets don't walk on two legs! Pets don't-don't speak unless spoken to! Obey Master's commands with-without question! Always address Master appropriately! Master is everything!" He listed it off, fast and sputtering and nearly impossible to understand. His body shook as he stared up, near hopeful, at Trapper. 

"Good boy." 

A hand pet his hair. Jake nearly smiled in relief as the blade raised and crashed into the side of his neck. David let out a scream. Claudette said something through her mangled mouth that he didn't catch. He could only feel white hot pain coursing through his left side. The loosening of chains had him falling into nothing. His ruined ball sack dragged across the floor in pieces. 

"I hope this little playdate has cemented my rules," Trapper said. 

Jake hit the ground, chains slinking from his limbs like heavy snakes. He choked on his blood. His skin was tingling and his nerves were still screaming in pain. God, the pain. He was so fucking sick of the pain. The approaching death wasn't coming fast enough. 

Out of some instinct, with the last of his strength, Jake looked up. Quentin was staring at him. But not with a look of pity or disgust or hopelessness. He looked... he looked really determined. Even through the pale fear that was palpable on his face. Jake was taken back a little, but read the words that the boy mouthed loud and clear:

We have a plan. Hang on a little longer.

Jake wasn't sure he could. 

Chapter Text

Danny was lounging in his room, the decrepit state of his permanent sanctuary looming over him like a shadow. He had his mask off, curled up on a sofa with his robes wrapped around him like a snuggie. He missed his old snuggie, out in the real world. And he missed stalking and killing too…. In the real world. But flipping through his new stack of glossy photos, Danny knew that he now had something worth persisting for. 

This one is my favorite. Oh holy hell, no, this one is my favorite! 

Each photo he had snapped of Dwight had been a masterpiece. Doey eyes, quivering lips, red face - each and every shot had something for Danny to ogle at. The ones of Jake were nice too, but something about Trapper’s four-eyed pet had got Danny’s loins burning in a way they hadn’t before. Even in the real world. 

Danny sighed and looked around his shitty place. Almost as shitty as his last apartment, and just as lonely. He looked back down to the photos, tracing the curve of Dwight’s cheek. He couldn’t wait to have a pet of his own. His plan just needed patience. And patience had always been his best virtue. 


“Hey, what the fuck!?” 

Danny stood up with a furious snarl, trying to rip away the photo that had been snagged from him. Freddy’s mutilated face laughed at him, bouncing away to safely look at his prize. 

“Holy fuck,” Freddie smirked. “And here I thought this elusive pet wasn’t real.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not going through that again. Give it the fuck back and get out, janitor.

Freddy danced away. Danny was pissed, mostly at himself, for not hearing him enter. The bastard was always a sneaky fuck. Maybe even sneakier than him. That irked Danny alot. But now he felt the pull in his chest, warning of an intruder, and realized he’d been daydreaming perhaps too deeply. How embarrassing. 

“I did a favor for the brute and he let me have a photoshoot,” Danny bit out, hoping it’d be enough to get the other killer off his back. “Why the fuck are you snooping around here?”

“Word has been going around.”


“Yeah. Word. Sounds like Trapper got to keep one of our survivors. And I want to know why. What makes him so special, hm?”

“I’ve been asking myself that all day,” Danny snapped. 

“So you don’t know nothin’?” Freddy sneered. Danny frowned when the man pocketed his photo. He withdrew his knife, and Freddy held up a hand and a claw in surrender. 

“Hey, come on now,” Freddy chuckled. “I just wanna know why Trapper invited ya into his place. What favor did you do for him, hm? How can I get in on that?”

“Is that all you’re interested in? You want a piece of ass?”

“More like a sex slave. I’d be fucked if metal-for-brains gets two and I don’t even get one! What kind of unfair fuck show is the Entity running, huh?!” He shouted it to the heavens, as if he’d done it a million times before. “The bitch isn’t impressed by me, though I can’t fathom why.”

“Me neither,” Danny snorted. 

“I’m serious,” Freddy grinned and retrieved the stolen photo partly from his pants. “If you let me see which of the survivors he just got, I’ll give back the stupid photo and not show it around and stir the shit pot,”

Danny tried not to look agitated at that. He didn’t want word to go around, but that was unavoidable. A photo could prove disastrous. He knew several other killers who’d make a go at the pets too. But Freddy was already a snooping fuck. Now that he knew, and Danny couldn’t permanently kill him, he’d have to play at a different angle. But at the moment, he just needed the stupid photo back. 

“Fine. He has Jake Park - that saboteur.” Danny held out a palm, waiting. Freddy grinned, but didn’t return the pic. “Well?”

“Jake Park, huh? The little bastard that screws with my hooks?”

“The very same little bastard.”

Freddy had a very easy face to read. And Danny could see all the sick pleasure twisting it. He quickly came up with a plan. He flipped through his own set of photos and withdrew one, holding it out so Freddy had a good view. It was of Jake, a hard look in his eye as he sucked on a thumb, the flash almost a little too bright. He was squinting against it. 

“I’ll trade you. This photo, for that one.”

“Yeah?” Freddy looked skeptical, like he didn’t understand the trick. 

“All I’m saying is, you wouldn’t mind having Jake under your thumb. No trial. No timer. No rules.” He wiggled the photo. “I myself have been trying to get my hands on Trapper’s personal pet. But… I’ll let you in on the plan, and that other survivor, if you help me out and stay quiet about it. I was just planning on leaving the brat with the brute.”

Freddy eyed the photo for a few more seconds. 

“Look. I’m only offering because you’re a fuck for snooping. I don’t like rewarding bad behavior, but your powers could help me. And… you know another killer that could help us out too.”

“Whose that?”

“You gotta promise to work with me. Then, I promise, you’ll have you’re own sex slave in no time.”


Freddy finally took the photo and returned the former. Ghostface hurriedly tucked it back into his sleeve. 

“Fine. But I better get a fuck toy outta this, or I’m killing you in your dreams.”

“Fine by me.”

“So what’s the genius plan you have, huh?”

“With you on board, I’ll have to change it up, but it’ll be much easier this way. You’re going to be going with me to their cells, after we steal Trapper’s keys. It’ll be tricky, but your spells work on killers.”

“Hehe, yeah they do,” Freddy chuckled, recalling some fond memories. “You fucks don’t realize what’s going on the first few minutes! Haha, it’s hilarious!” 

“Exactly!” Danny boosted his enthusiasm, trying to get Freddy more amped about the idea. “Trapper will be out of it, and we’ll have his key.”

“Then what the fuck are we gonna do when he’s breathing down our necks? It’s almost impossible to kill a killer in their own realm.”

“We need a distraction.”

“What would that be?”

“You’re friends with Kenneth, correct?”

“The clown? Ha! Yeah, that fuck is one twisted son-of-a-bitch! A lot better company than you ever were.”

“Yeah. You like him because he’s an idiot. Easy to manipulate. You see what I’m saying?”


“We make Trapper think the Clown is the one trespassing, not us. You wake him before he realizes he is asleep, Kenneth fucks around in a spot we tell him the pets are at….” Danny rolled his fingers together, hoping Freddy would catch on. When he did, the killer’s eyes lit up in excitement. 

“Oh, haha, that’s a good idea, ghostie. You, uh, you really think you’ll get me that saboteur?”

Danny almost had to laugh at how Freddy sounded like a hopeful child on Christmas eve, hoping for that one fated gift to arrive in the morning. Danny had no intentions of refusing such an adorable face. Not if it made things easier for himself too. 

“Oh, Freddy. You and me, working together? We’ll both be rewarded for our hard work in no time.”

Freddy cracked a huge grin, showing off his gnarly teeth. “I can’t wait.”

Chapter Text

Dwight hadn't meant to fall asleep. But he'd been so worn out and exhausted after his thorough fucking, that when Trapper finally left him, he'd passed out in the covers. He'd awoken a few times. But he'd only gotten his eyes halfway open before crashing back into the mattress. Master never let him sleep on the pillows, and it felt like absolute heaven. Reality only came crashing back when the door's locks loudly began to unlatch. 

The ex-survivor practically threw himself from the covers. Years of punishments after rather simple slip-ups had made him jumpy, and he scrambled to the edge of the mattress with his head down as if sleeping would be something bad to be caught doing. His heart clenched, in something more than fear, when he realized that Jake was with Master. 

The survivor had a heavy chain latched to his collar. He walked by the killer's boots on all fours, unminding of the way his palms and knees left prints of blood in their wake. Dwight didn't like the dullness in Jake's eyes or the lack of fight in his usually strongly framed shoulders. Dwight wanted to ask if he was okay, and give him a kiss because it was the only way he really knew how to show affection or comfort.  Instead, he silently waited for his Master to give him a command. 

"Jake. Sit."

Jake sat on his ass, palms to the floor and head bowed. Master gave him a pat and unhooked the chain. His cleaver had been set off to the side, and that gave Dwight the tiniest bit of relief. Guilt quickly followed after. Master had to have sated his bloodlust with Jake pretty thoroughly. It certainly looked that way. 

"Crawl up onto the bed."

The saboteur silently stood on all fours. Trapper gave him a hard slap to the ass as he started to crawl, up to the foot of the mattress and next to Dwight. Jake's eyes looked right through him. It didn't look like he was present at all. His hand crept over and tugged at the sheets, trying to get the other's attention. Jake didn't look at him. Dwight's heart twisted a little more. 


His eyes immediately went to his Master. He was messing with the front of his pants. His already hardening cock fell out from the zipper. Dwight buried all his swirling emotions, something he'd been having trouble with since his return, and crept forward to meet the throbbing tip. Master thrust into his mouth with a grunt. The blood on his hands and clothes sat heavily in Dwight's nose. 

"Ass up, slut," Master grunted. He slapped Dwight's backside as he struggled to raise it, moaning around the cock that was making it hard to breathe. 

Focus. Breathe through your nose. Use your elbows to steady yourself. Damn it, Dwight you know this! He chastised himself. As soon as he was up, Master slowed his thrusting. He motioned to Jake beside him. 

"Get behind him. Start licking his ass."

Dwight’s face flushed. He tried not to imagine the look on Jake's face, or the resulting outburst. Instead, Dwight yelped in shock as a warm tongue suddenly licked around his rim, hands pulling apart his cheeks. Jake didn't even hesitate. 

Dwight's hands trembled in the sheets, world titling as both his holes were stimulated. One touch rough and uncaring, and one soft and gentle. An image of a white mask and warm robes suddenly entered his head. Dwight banished the thoughts as soon as they came. Jake's tongue entering his hole helped make that a lot easier. He tried to thrust back, but Master pinned the small of his back. 

"Don't move. Let him work," came the order.

Dwight licked a long stripe under his shaft to let him know he heard him loud and clear. Master grabbed both sides of his head, following the hot tongue into his mouth and deep down his throat.

"Agh~fuck," Master groaned. "Good boy. Good fucking slut."

He pressed flush to his face, balls slapping against his chin and dark pubes tickling his nostrils. Dwight closed his eyes as the shaft throbbed in his throat. Hot cum shot down his constricting muscles, and he swallowed it all. His lips were red and puffy and his throat ached when Master finally pulled out. A string of saliva and semen dripped down to his chest. But without that cock, Dwight became painfully aware of Jake with his face in his ass. He bit his lip to hold in a pleasured groan. Master grabbed his chin and held his head up. 

"What did I say about holding in your sounds?"

Jake's tongue thrust in past his ring of muscle, digging around. Dwight let the pleasure running up his spine spill from his mouth. A rough thumb rubbed at his bottom lip as if to pull more whimpers free. 

"I-I'm s-sor-rry, M-Master~ Ah~ Ah~" Dwight nearly collapsed on his elbows. Jake had to have done this before. And God, Dwight had never felt anyone with such a skilled tongue. It was almost impossible to focus on Master. He managed somehow. 

"What do you say for getting to suck such a nice cock?"

"T-thank-k-k y-you, M-Mast-ter!"

Dwight pushed into the hand that rubbed at his scalp. If only to shift away from Jake. his own cock was throbbing between his legs, neglected. The pleasureable warmth behind him was making it hard to ignore. He wanted to reach up and thrust into his own hand. But Master would probably force him to go to bed with a hard-on, like usual. He wondered if Ghostface would let him cum often. A hand slapped his face. 

"I said, on your back."

He crumpled under the threat in Master's voice. Jake had pulled back, sitting on his haunches as Dwight was pinned on his back before him. His legs were forcibly spread open and Master ordered Jake to tuck between them. For a moment, Dwight thought he saw a brief flash of clarity in his eyes. But he quickly folded over Dwight, face blank. 

Dwight recognized that look. He'd checked himself out of Master's sessions in the past, but Master would catch on and correct it. Once he knew how Jake better. Once he opened him up like a generator and saw how he worked. Master didn't like it when his toys weren't fully present. But Master wasn’t paying that much attention. He stepped back a few steps. Dwight heard him breath out a sigh of relief as he fell into the nearby armchair. 

“Jake, your Master wants to be entertained. His hole is prepped enough. Fuck my slut.”

Dwight felt Jake’s body tense above him. He didn’t move. Dwight’s heart flared. He wouldn’t be against Jake taking him, but in this situation, it wasn’t right. Jake obviously didn’t want this. His face was twisting with a mixture of grief and anger. He hadn’t looked directly at Dwight this whole time. His eyes were staring somewhere near his right ear. Before Jake could get himself in trouble, Dwight gently touched his wrist and those dark eyes flickered to his own. 

I missed you. He mouthed, because he didn’t know what else to say. 

I’m sorry. 

Dwight tugged his wrist closer and Jake followed it, crawling over the top of him. His lips were still tweaked into a hardened frown. Dwight gave another tug and offered him a tiny smile. 

You need to hurry. It’s okay, I’m okay. 

Jake’s frown deepened. He still leaned forward though when Master gave a short, impatient grunt. Dwight tried not to be so stiff. It was hard when Jake’s head fell low to his ear, body still careful not to touch him. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, low and sorrowful. “I’ll… I’ll try to make it feel good.”

“I t-trust-t y-you.”

Jake wasn’t very hard. His cock brushed against Dwight’s thigh as he leaned further into his neck and started to suck on the skin. Dwight bit his tongue. Jake started to use his and made it impossible not to squirm in near uncomfortable pleasure. Dwight’s hands came up to steady themselves on Jake’s hips. Jake gently took his wrist and pulled it back to the sheets. He kept kissing up to the middle of his throat. 

“Relax. You need to relax,” Jake whispered. 

Dwight tried to. He heard Master’s slowly rubbing at his meat behind them, and was painfully aware that he needed to do more than just sit here, frozen and scared. He forced his legs to ease into the bed and laid his head back fully. Jake took advantage of the full access, reaching down to between his own legs to pump at his half-hard cock. Dwight felt it harden against his legs before sliding up his own hot length. He nearly choked on the spike of pleasure in his gut. Jake did it again, his hands caressing up and down Dwight’s sides. His nails left light, ticklish scratches over his ribs.

“I’m… I’m still here,” Jake breathed by his ear. “I won’t go away again… I’m sorry.”

Dwight couldn’t answer him. He closed his eyes tightly, thinking he might cry. He took a shaky breath to settle himself. He opened his eyes back up to Jake above him, his fingers in his mouth. Dwight’s breath hitched again. Jake removed his wet fingers and slid his arm between them, fingers prodding at his hole. Dwight held his gaze and blinked twice. Jake pushed in. Dwight wanted to push down. To tell him that he was being too gentle, that he was obviously used to so much worse. But Jake held his other hand to Dwight’s hip and thumbed tiny circles as he pushed in another digit. Dwight soaked in the soft touches and the scent of woods and decaying leaves. Jake wouldn’t have that scent for long. He never wanted to forget it. 

Three fingers entered him. The stretch felt good. So much better than a gnarly half-wet cock pushing in. Dwight reached up for more kisses, and Jake leaned down to meet his eager lips. Dwight nearly pulled him down, biting at his bottom lip. 

The fingers slipped free and were replaced by something larger. It was much smaller than Master’s dick. But for a human, it was more than perfect. Dwight wanted to close his eyes. Maybe try to block out Master’s heavy breaths and the scent of blood and pretend his was in the real world having sex with his boyfriend. It was a hopeless fantasy. Dwight barely remembered what the real world looked like, let alone his own bedroom. He wasn’t sure if he had a boyfriend either, or if he had even been gay. Nothing seemed concrete outside of this realm. 

Jake pushed his head in. Dwight gasped and pulled him down, his own nails scratching the other’s skin. He mumbled an apology as Jake pressed his chest flushed to his. He shut him up by resuming their kiss. Dwight was lost between enjoying his lips and the pressure that sunk into his ass. Jake pulled out after a moment and then eased back in. He pulled back to look him in the eyes. His face was flushed and sweat slid down his neck under his collar. He kept massaging Dwight’s sides as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. Each became quicker, more needier. Dwight’s legs lifted, calves quivering as he wrapped them around Jake’s hips, pushing him in fully, their balls slapping together. 

“Ah! Oh, oh fuck,” Jake gasped. 

“S-sor-rry,” Dwight hissed out, loosening his legs. 

Jake pulled back, then pushed in, cutting off Dwight and making his head spin. He gasped as Jake trailed his nails up his sides to his nipples, one hands tweaking a nub and the other traveling down to Dwight’s stomach. His cock twitched in interest as warm fingers closed around it. They stroked firmly, the thumb rubbing at his head before falling to rub at his balls. 

“I-I’m g-gon-na-!” Dwight’s hips bucked up. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he unraveled. 

Jake started to pump his hips harder and jerk off Dwight quicker. He pressed his body closer and sucked at his throat. 

“I’m here. I’m here, Dwight.”

Dwight burst at his words, throwing his head back and gasping as his world alighted with white pleasure. He didn’t realize he was screaming out Jake’s name. Not until the warmth in his ass suddenly disappeared, Jake grunting as he was pushed off by Master. His presence dragged Dwight down from his high with a brutal coldness.  His orgasm was ripped from him halfway through its peak. It made him want to cry, even more so when Master was grabbing at his throat, dragging him to the floorboards and yelling like Dwight had fucked up somehow. 

“M-Mast-t-er! I’m s-s-sorry! I-I’m s-sorry!!” 

“Shut up!” Master let go, letting him crumple at his boots. “I don’t care how much you enjoy letting him touch you, you slut. You only use my name when you cum like that. Understood?”

Dwight nodded furiously, kissing at his boots and mumbling apologies in between. Above him, Trapper grabbed at his still leaking cock. 

“You did make me hard as a rock, though. Just don’t break that rule, again.” He kicked Dwight over onto his back, sliding the heel down to his limp cock. It was splattered with his own cum. He whined when the boot nudged at it. The flesh prickled sensitively. 

“Looks like you got off. But the other whore didn’t get to. That’s not very fair, now is it? Why don’t you be a good boy and finish him off with your mouth. Crawl up halfway on the bed, legs on the floor.”

Dwight dragged himself forward. Jake was sitting halfway up in the rumpled covers, looking to Dwight with wide eyes. Dwight, despite Master giving him a scare, was relieved to see Jake wasn’t withdrawn in his head anymore. He looked sick with worry, and rushed to assume the position Master ordered him into (legs open, knees over the edge of the bed). 

“Good boy. Get up there and suck his cock. Make him feel good, even if the brat barley deserves it.”

Dwight felt a surge of bitterness at the words. He wanted this to be happening under the tree with all the crows. Nearby a campfire they could warm up at afterwards, and fall asleep together against the log. He didn’t want his Master here, directing this like a play. But he still played the part of a good actor, took the direction, and got on his knees. 

Jake looked actually embarrassed, so Dwight spared trying to communicate with his fidgeting eyes and took the cock into his mouth. The body above him tensed. Fingers gripped at his hair, then relaxed as if realizing how hard they pulled. At the same time, Master grabbed Dwight’s ass and lifted it higher, aligning his own cock with his already wet hole. He shoved in without preamble. Dwight was thrust further onto Jake’s cock, choking on it and causing the other to suck in a pained hissed. Dwight quickly peppered the shaft with kisses, licking at the head in apology. Jake’s fingers were shakily rubbing at his temples. Dwight tried to focus on that soft touch while his ass was brutally pounded into. Tried not to think about how much he craved the absence of pain. Tried not to crumple before his Master got off. 

“Gah~” Jake grunted, hips bucking once. 

Dwight sucked him in fully, swallowing his load while Master released his own. A hard slap smacked his ass. The welt pulsed in time with the heat spreading inside his guts. Dwight collapsed into Jake’s lap, nudging his head into the warm arms that wrapped around him. Jake’s heavy breaths matched his own. 

“Not perfect,” Master muttered above them. “But we’ll train out the last of that resistance soon, slut.”

Dwight buried his face into the crook of Jake’s arm, scared the crow-talker would say something snarky in return. Rather, Jake just mumbled, “Yes, Master,” and held Dwight a little tighter. 

“Good boy. You two can sleep on the bed while I’m working.”

Dwight’s body finally lost most of its tension. He hauled himself fully onto the bed, pushing into Master’s hand as it gave him a pat. Jake did the same, both eager to have their alone time. But there was no talking. No plans of escape or words of comfort. None of that mattered right now. 

The door locked shut, and Jake laid back down with Dwight dozing against his chest.

Chapter Text

Laurie silently crept through the tall grass. It was constantly covered in early morning dew, leaving her clothes partly soaked and sending a chill up her spine. The young women ignored the cold in favor of surveying the nearby generator. It was halfway done, but no other survivor was around. A bear trap had been set up beside it. Laurie pursed her lips, considering her options. 

Trapper hadn’t stopped being brutal during his trials. His deaths were horrible and drawn-out. It wasn't as bad as it had been when they discovered Dwight, but it was enough that Laurie was extra cautious whenever she was whisked away to the MacMillian Estate. She was also incredibly focused on finding clues to Jake’s whereabouts. After hearing about what happened at the last trial here, everyone had been in agreement. They need to rescue their friends, and fast. Laurie didn’t want to die until she found something. 

“Fuck… no. No generators,” Laurie mumbled. That meant a sure death, but there was only one other person left alive and four generators that needed to be fixed. Laurie was pretty sure it was Meg, but the trial had been going too fast to be sure. It had sure sounded like her scream. 

“Hey!” Came the hushed yell. Laurie turned, spotting red hair and pained grimace. She crawled quickly towards Meg, hands falling over runner’s sides to start healing. When she was done, her fingers came away bloody, but Meg looked a lot more at ease. 

“Thanks. But fuck. We aren’t finishing these gens are we?” Meg asked, cracking a nervous but cheeky grin. 

“No, probably not,” Laurie sighed. “I’ve been trying to find clues based on what that crow showed us… nothing yet.”

“Yeah, it’d be easier if a psycho killer wasn’t on our ass. He’s not as bad this trial, though. He seemed to have calmed down some.”

“Really?” Laurie was skeptical. “He wiped out Nea and David pretty quick.”

“Our legs weren’t sawed off this time. He’s playing the game like normal, I mean.”

“Oh. I don’t know if that’s good.”

“I’ll call it a win and go with it,” Meg said, grabbing her wrist. She tugged. “Come on, you’re right. We should use this time to investigate. Claudette said that grass was from what area?”

“The factory,” Laurie said automatically. She’d been trying to find it all trial. Trapper had too many bear traps over there, and was keeping close. It made Claude’s theory a lot more solid. They looked over in its direction. 


“If he finds us, we split. The one to escape keeps looking. The one to be chased takes him as far from the area as possible… That okay?” Laurie asked, knowing one of them had a certain death sentence. 

Meg nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Laurie took off first. They ran the length of the factory, cold rolling from its tall metal walls in waves. Laurie felt trepidation run up her neck. She shot out a hand, stalling Meg before they ran around the corner. A heartbeat followed seconds later, and they saw the killer’s red light pass several feet ahead. He disappeared into the factory. Laurie cursed, knowing he’d have a good vantage point to see them if they wandered too far from the base of the building. 

“Well, he’s certainly keeping to this area,” Meg mumbled. She paused, as if thinking. “Why don’t you go on ahead?”


“I can outrun the dumbass all day. I’ll sprint off towards the west side and let him follow me. This place has a lot of places to escape.”

“Are you sure?”


“...” Laurie hated sending a friend to their death, but Meg looked rather eager to help out. And Laurie didn’t see any other option. “Okay. Just be careful. Try to keep him as busy for as long as you can.”

Meg grinned and gave a salute. “I’ll be harder to catch than a cocaine-addicted fly.”

Laure cracked a grin, despite herself. “I expect nothing less.”

And then Laurie was alone, the howling of the wind covering her footsteps as she crept into the trees. She had studied the crab grass since they found it. Memorizing the particular shade of green and broadness of the blade. It was nearly identical to the other species around the realm, and Claudette had to sit all the survivors down and explain, in excruciating detail, how to spot this specific grass. Laurie had a harder time of it than the others. So she had snagged a piece, pulling the strand from her pocket. 

Nea said there were vaultless walls near here… That the grass would be close to it…

Laurie was pretty sure she spotted the right area. She broke into a run when she heard Meg’s scream from across the map. But a second one didn’t follow. Laurie thanked the runner for being so slippery, and then thanked Claudette’s big brain when she ran straight through the dark grass. Laurie jerked to a stop, looking down at it. To the right, several yards away, she saw the grass trail towards some decrypt walls, crumbling from disuse. Wooden floorboards jutted from the earth, falling away in pieces or being overtaken by foliage. Laurie’s sneakers sounded deafeningly loud against her ears as she walked over the wood. Meg screamed again, finally downed. 

“Focus, Laurie,” the survivor told herself. “Gen, Locker, grass… wood? Wood. I found the wood.”

But the wood the crow had in its beak had been lighter than this. Almost pink, like the crow had freshly carved it from a fresh tree. Laurie quickly scanned for the color. She would have gotten on her hands and knees to look, but Meg was hooked. The Entity claimed her, and Laurie could see her body being lifted into the sky. Damn. Trapper would probably be heading back over here. Laurie thought about leaving, so Trapper wouldn’t realize they had an idea where he had their friends. But then she saw it - the same pale color, peeking through the reaching fingers of the grass. 

“Holy fuck.”

She knelt down. Brushed aside the plants that hung over the section of wood and brushed a thumb over a piece that had been peeled off. It was the same size as that the crow had. Laurie knocked on it. A hollow drum came back to her. Her heart skipped a beat. Her knees were weak. She knocked again to be sure. This was a trap door. She scrambled, brushing aside leaves and grass. She found a seam, so faint, she would have missed it had she walked by. The seam ran around in the shape of a box. At the top, trailed off into a little hatch. Underneath that, was a heavy padlock. 

Laurie stood up. Her palms were sweaty as she stumbled backwards and tried to leave the area. She didn’t want Trapper to know she knew. Not now. It was hard to walk away, though. Jake could be under there, praying for help. Dwight could be with him, the poor soul dragged right back down to the same hell he’d been in for years. Laurie closed her eyes, tried not to cry, and promised she’d return. 

“I’ll get you out of there,” she promised. “Just hold on, a little longer.”

Her feet turned and kicked up dirt as she sprinted away - somewhere, she wasn't sure. She had no idea if she should just let Trapper kill her and be done with it, or if she should try to find the hatch. Fuck, she wanted to be at the campfire this instant. She wanted to tell the others and start thinking of ideas to break that lock!

“Gah!” Laurie screamed. 

She was so lost in her head, she almost missed the blade. She ducked, the cleaver sticking into the wall as Trapper grunted in frustration. Laurie dashed away, over a vault and into the woods. She heard the stomping footsteps coming after her. She pushed herself a little faster and missed another strike as she swiveled around a tree. She wasn’t expecting the killer to throw his leg out and trip her. Her body flew through the air, crashing into the ground shoulder first. It felt like it dislocated. She screamed, rolling to a stop in a dirty heap. 

“Fuck-” she gasped, her curse turning into an incoherent gasp as Trapper hefted her up by the bad arm. She was tossed over his shoulder. The metal bits dug into her gut, tearing flesh. Laurie grit her teeth. Just get through this hook, and you can tell the others. 

Trapper passed a hook. Laurie stopped struggling in confusion, resuming only when he passed the next one. She didn’t want to know what he was planning. Her legs kicked out and her fists pounded his back. She didn’t stop until she was dropped heavily onto her back, the breath leaving her lungs as Trapper pinned her with a boot to the chest. She gripped the muddy sole and stared up at him with hard, fiery eyes. She only realized that he had dropped her right next to the open hatch when her adrenaline wore down. 

Laurie sneered at him. Freddy and Ghostface had a bad habit of teasing survivors with freedom before a brutal killing. But that wasn’t Trapper’s M.O. It got even stranger when he produced something from his pocket and dropped it by Laurie’s head. It was a yellow envelope. She stared at it as Trapper lifted his boot. 

“Enjoy my gift. I thought you’d like to see how your little friend is doing.”

And then he turned, leaving the confused woman bleeding near the hatch. The killer didn’t even look back. She thought about leaving the envelope. Whatever was inside, couldn’t be good. Yet her numb fingers grabbed it anyway. It wasn’t heavy, but something stiff and hard was stacked inside. Her fingers tried to guess at what the indention could be, but she was bleeding out fast. She had to make a choice. 

The survivor took the ill-fated gift and crawled into the humming darkness. 



Evan was exhausted. He was tired of trials. Of fixing bear-traps. Of killing. All that was good and fun, but training his pets had taken a lot out of him. Evan almost wanted to ask the Entity for a vacation. With the trial done, and the survivor taking his gift to the others, he wanted nothing more than to unwind. And he had just the perfect idea. 

He shrugged off his bloody clothes as he entered the basement. His cleaver clattered behind him in the hallway. If Jake kept following his newly-established rules, then Trapper wouldn’t need it. He unlocked the door, and found his pets sleeping at the foot of the bed, legs tangled and fast asleep. They shifted when the door opened. Trapper watched with keen eyes. Jake sat up just as quickly as Dwight. They stood up on all fours, side by side with their asses up. Trapper’s chest was heavy with contentment. There was nothing better than returning from a hard day’s work to his two good sluts. 

He unbuckled his overalls and unzipped himself. His boots were kicked off and thrown to the side. He tossed his mask on the chair, his scarred skin and bright eyes looming over his pets. A grin split his lips as he held out a thumb to Jake. The survivor didn’t need to be told. He took it into his mouth, hands coming up hesitantly as if unsure if he could grab at his wrist. Trapper thrust his digit in, back and forth roughly over the pad of his tongue. Jake gagged a little, but didn’t try to fight back. 

“Good boy. You’re already a much better whore, huh? Just remember to keep it up.”

Jake’s face pinched. Just a moment. A flicker of disgust, of defiance. Then it fell, back to the mask of a pet. Evan rubbed at his head, sliding his hand down to grasp the back of his neck. Jake didn’t try to pull away. He just shuffled to the side, away from Dwight as Trapper positioned him. Dwight, eyes casting none-too-discreetly towards Jake, let him be pushed to the other side of the bed. Evan needed to do something about that.  

He liked watching his two pets interact. It turned him on, maybe even more than seeing Dwight flinch in fear or Jake squeal in pain. But when Dwight had cried out Jake’s name in ecstasy, eyes lidded and his gaze miles from here, something had snapped in Evan. He had gotten pissed. Maybe even jealous. Evan didn’t like to think of himself that way. Women were the jealous-types. Evan wasn’t jealous over his pet’s attention being elsewhere. Dwight was just an attention-starved whore who’d do anything for a gentle hand. Jake just happened to fill that role. 

What the fuck do you care, faggot? His father’s voice hissed in his head. 

Evan growled at the apparition and threw off the rest of his clothes, tossing them aside. Dwight had withdrawn into himself at the growl. Jake had too, if only a little. It gave Evan a flush of pride in his chest. He forgot about his father and his jealousy and laid down his stomach with a low, relieved groan. His arms tucked under his chin and he closed his eyes. 

“Dwight. Show him how to properly take care of your Master’s body. I’m sore as hell.”


Dwight stiffened. He fumbled for a moment to recall what Master was asking of him, before his instincts kicked in. He was still half-asleep, caught in between a pleasant dream and recalling Jake inside of him. Now, he took the crow-talker’s hands in his own and laid them over Master’s muscular back. The flesh was firm and solid, but when they reached where the metal shot from his shoulders and sides, the flesh became gnarly and thick, wrapping around the inorganic material like flesh-colored roots. Jake flinched when his fingers brushed against it. Dwight gave his hand a squeeze in apology and laid his hands over a different area.

Do what I do, Dwight mouthed. Jake looked down, watching his fingers with the tiniest sliver of fear leaking through his features. Mistakes meant pain. Dwight felt sick that Jake knew that lesson so well already. 

He started slowly. Working his fingers around the base of the metal. Jake followed his lead. He was clumsier, and Dwight cringed at how hard he pressed. 

Easier near the metal, then rub harder the further you go, Dwight corrected. 

Jake nodded. He did what the other did, massaging down Master’s back and using his weight to press into the muscles. Trapper groaned beneath them, like a slumbering bear. Their hands went back up, and Jake’s fingers tried to work delicately to loosen the knots near the wounds. He must have pressed too hard though, because Trapper suddenly was pushing himself up and striking Jake with a backhand. The survivor fell off the bed with a cry. Dwight nearly crawled over the top of the killer to get to him, sucking in a sob as the hand threatened to hit him too. 

“Get back to work. He’ll learn,” Master growled. He sunk back into bed, crooking a finger for Jake to return. “Be more careful there, bitch.”

“Yes, Master,” Jake mumbled, rubbing his red cheek. 

He crawled back onto the bed. Dwight helped him with the pace by working his fingers besides his, sometimes rubbing his thumb over his wrist just to touch him. He should have warned him. Rubbing too hard near the metal pinched Master’s nerves. It only felt good if it was light and delicate. He brushed Jake’s hesitant fingers over the metal and flesh, then showed him how to rub little circles under the border. He eased back to let him work alone. Master didn’t strike him after a few moments. Jake let out a breath he’d been holding. He seemed to have learned from his mistake. 

Dwight brushed his wrist and led his hands down to Master’s middle back. Had him press hard with his palm and thumbs while he finished unloosening the rest of the metal bits. He was a lot quicker than Jake, and Dwight just wanted to get this over with and go back to sleep. Hopefully in the saboteur's arms and breathing in that scent of his. 

“Higher,” Master ordered. 

Dwight worked up to his neck, where he knew he liked him to massage deeply into the muscle. Dwight had to, unfortunately, crawl halfway up Master’s back to do so. It was always difficult to avoid his metal shards. Luckily, it was hard to unlearn his lessons, and Dwight loosened the knots without issue. When he was done, Jake had worked all the way down to his hips. Even massaged the several smaller metal pieces along the way. Master rolled over, seemingly pleased with their work. 

“Not bad. Next time, I hope I won’t have to move while I relax.”

Jake flinched when those cold eyes looked at him. 

“You’ll learn. It’s time for bed. You sleep on the floor tonight, pet.” Master ordered. Dwight turned with Jake, freezing when a rough hand latched onto his arm. 

“Not you, slut. Get back here.”

Dwight didn’t like this. He looked back to Jake who was halfway off the bed, pausing as he looked to see what was going on. Dwight whimpered as a hand snaked around him and pinned him close to a broad chest. His hands flailed a moment with no direction before falling stiffly to his sides. Master snorted into his hair. 

“Calm down and go to sleep. And you better not wake me. I’m fucking tired.”

Dwight was pressed into his Master’s naked body, shocked as a cover was pulled over them both and draped in the warmth. Dwight desperately wanted to crawl back to the floor anyways. Jake was there, probably cold and needed another body. Dwight didn’t understand why he was up here. Master never held him like this before. He didn’t know how to act… Was this cuddling? 

Master’s hands tightened around him. His half-hard cock ground into his ass, and Dwight was scared he’d be fucked. But the half-hearted thrusting stopped and the killer started to snore. His poor pet, laying stiff in his arms, took a lot longer to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Nea had nearly run off to tell the others that Laurie had found Trapper’s secret hatch. An iron-grip to her arm kept her in place. Laurie held out the package to her. 

“He gave this to me, before letting me escape. He said it would show us how Jake is…”

David and Quentin were somewhere in the forest. Claudette and Meg had just left after Laurie asked if she could have a moment alone with the street artist. Laurie hadn’t yet opened the package. She was too scared to open it alone. If something fucked was in here, she felt Nea and her were best equipped to handle it. 

“We could just burn it,” Nea suggested. “Be done with it and not play his games.”

“I know, I… I wanted to leave it,” Laurie admitted. “But I also wasn’t sure. I wanted to talk to you first.”

Nea took the package. She flipped it over in her hands and traced the outline. Her eyes narrowed. “I think it might be photographs…” she murmured. 

“That’s not good. That- that can’t be good, right?”

“No, probably not. Fuck. I don’t know. What if it gives us hints?”

Laurie’s voice lowered, hard to hear. “I already told you. I found the ‘x’, and the hatch-”

Nea cut her off, looking around. “We need to hold a meeting for that as soon as possible. But for now, I say we burn this.” She held up the envelope, near the flames, about to toss it. 

“No-wait-!” Meg’s voice was cut off with a gag. The two women looked over in shock at a sheepish Claudette peeking around a tree, a hand still clamped around Meg’s mouth. 

“I want to see!” Meg demanded, shoving away her hand. She ran to the fire. “I want to see Jake! Those are photos?”

“Meg, no,” Laurie ordered. “We don’t know what’s in this. Trapper gave it to me. He… fuck, Meg, it can’t be good.”

“You can’t just burn that! What if it shows us where they are?!” Meg was near tears, sounding ready to burst. Her fingers were fidgeting in the air, grasping as if she’s lunge for the package. 

“Meg, please, i know where the hatch is,” Laurie tried to calm her. 


“I found it just at the last trial. We were gonna hold a meeting-”

“You knew where they were? How can that not be the first thing you tell us?!” 

“Meg,” Claudette tugged her arm, trying to calm her down. Meg pulled away from her. 

“No! You don’t just burn something that could be important without talking to everyone! Like, seriously! That’s not cool!” 

“I barely got to talk to Nea! We were making the best call!” 

“Did you not hear what I just said? You should have called a meeting immediately! Not send us off! We’re not children!” 

“Well, maybe if I didn’t have to treat you like one all the time.”

Meg’s shoulders bunched in agitation, her face scrunching angrily. “What the hell is your problem?!”

“I don’t need you snooping around when we’re trying to rescue our friend!” 

“I AM TRYING TO HELP!” Meg nearly shrieked, tears building in her eyes. “Fuck you! Don’t tell me I’m not helping!” 

“Stop!” Nea shoved in between them. They were getting too close. “Stop it and calm down! We’ll hold a meeting right now. We’ll get David and Quentin and go from there-”

“I don’t want Quentin to see anything worse than he already has,” Laurie cut in. 

“Laurie-” Nea pushed. 

“No. I’m serious about that. Something terrible happened when he was alone and it had to do with Jake. This is why I wanted to review it myself!” 

“It’s not just you going through this!” Meg snapped. “You’re not our leader!” 

“Well maybe I should be! I’m the one who found where Trapper’s keeping them!” 

“Fuck you! You’re being a self-serving asshole!” 

“You’re just a brat who doesn’t know how to shut up-”

Nea was shoved aside. Meg struck Laurie right across the jaw, a sharp snap cracking through the trees. Laurie fell backwards and Meg started to cry. Yelling at her. Telling her that she had no right to tell her she was immature. Nea grabbed her shoulders to try and calm her down. Meg was rambling now, throwing herself away and saying something about her mother. 

Claudette helped Laurie up. The blonde woman wasn’t sure how to feel. She just wanted to get out of here. But her cheek throbbed in pain and she felt increasingly furious. She eyed the package laying the dirt. Claudette asked if she was okay. Laurie walked past her and grabbed the envelope. The flames leapt up in excitement as they consumed it. 

“No! Fucking-! You bitch!” Meg shoved Laurie away, nearly diving into the fire herself. 

Nea snatched her at the hips. She tried to drag her back, but the runner slipped away. Laurie went wide-eyed when the girl went straight into the fire. Claudette screamed next to her. Meg’s silhouette was black in the campfire. Her arms swung wildly in the flames. If she was screaming, it was muffled under the roar of the heat. Laure thought she heard the snap and pop of burning flesh. No she did. Definitely smelled it too. She covered her nose as the black figure in the fire stilled. The smoke turned darker, almost black. 

“Did- did she-” Claudette fumbled for words. She was grasping at her chest, as if her heart wasn’t working right. “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”

“Meg?” Nea asked weakly. She blinked a few times, then turned to Laurie. Her lost astonishment turned to cold anger. “What. The. Fuck. What the fuck, Laurie!?”

“I didn’t think she’d jump into the fucking fire!” 

“You didn’t have to throw the envelope in there! I said we were going to talk about it!” 

“Oh, and everything you do is right?”

“Meg was right! We should have talked to everyone!”

“Meg threw a tantrum,” Laurie said coldly. Nea got in her face. Though she was shorter, she still made an intimidating stance. 

“Don’t fucking call her a child again, or I’ll be the one to sock you the face. She ain’t a kid. She’s suffered this hell as long as either of us! Longer! And they aren’t just your friends. Stop acting like it.”

Nea shoved her in the shoulder as she briskly walked past. She tugged a lost-looking Claudette along. The botanist just stared at the fire, stumbling as Nea tried to lead her away. Laurie couldn't help but glare after them, knowing she was digging her hole deeper. But Laurie didn’t care. She was honestly still shocked that Meg just killed herself in front of them, and her anger was still flip-flopping between who it wanted to blame. She knew she'd feel like shit for this later, so she turned heel and headed for the isolation of the woods. Her eyes burned with tears. She dug her nails into her palms until they bled but it did little to help. 

She had to get away from the smell of burning human flesh. 



Her head hurt. It throbbed with the intensity of a migraine, and yet Meg still sat up as if it were merely bumped. She hated how high her pain tolerance had gotten. Hated that she had dove into a fire without a second thought. And it was all for nothing. The paper had burned in her fingers as her flesh was eaten away. She laid on the damp earth, staring at the trees without bothering to sit up. She didn’t want to go back to the fire - to Laurie. That bitch. 

Meg rolled onto her shoulder. She wanted to sob again. The tension sat heavy in her chest, but it was forgotten. A yellow envelope sat in front of her. Intact as she was. Laurie’s warning flashed in her head. 

She bit back at her anger and grabbed at the package. The top tore easily under her nails. Out fell a stack of glossy photos. Meg’s eyes widened. Her vision narrowed, nearly black around the edges as she realized just what she was looking at. She got up on her feet. She didn’t realize she was walking away before she was leaning against a tree trunk, heaving her empty guts out. The bile burned her throat. She choked on it and started to sob. 

This isn’t fair. 

She kept walking. She fell over a few times. She was crying still. Her knees hurt and she thought she might vomit again. She’d gotten sick all over the front of her shirt. She left claw marks in the bark as she fell to her knees and held a hand to her mouth, trying to be quiet, not wanting anyone to see her broken down. There had been no gore in those photos. No death. No mutilation. But God… Jake was wearing a collar. Those gloves had looked like Ghostface’s…. Were other killers using them too? Sharing them? Her stomach rolled. 

Jake would be so upset if he knew she’d seen these photos. This was a violation of their bodies. A different violation than any of them were used to. Meg swallowed at the prospect of everyone eventually falling to similiar fates. Then possibly worse ones after that use had been drained of them. She buried her head in her hands. 

“Fuck, Jake. I’m so sorry. I’m so fuck stupid. I should have let them burn.” 

She didn’t hear the rustling until the figure passed by her. She let out a tiny, angry screech in surprise, back gliding up the tree trunk as she stood. It was Quentin. She wiped furiously at her eyes, already reaching out to try and stop him from going near the photos. But he was stiff, staring ahead and unseeing. He walked right into a tree and kept on going. Meg sighed between her sniffles. He was lagging.

She grabbed Quentin’s shoulders and turned his auto-piloted body around. He began to walk away from the disgusting pile of photos. A few moments later, his stance relaxed and lost its robotic-like stature. 

“Meg? Meg, hey. Are you okay?” Quentin asked softly, blinking. She let go and slunk in front of him with a tiny smile. She knew it was obvious she’d been crying, but tried to play it off as just a moment of overwhelming stress. They all had break-downs every now and then. Nothing new. 

“Yeah… just one of those days, you know,” she chuckled. It sounded fake even to her own ears. Her smile dropped. “Um, I’m sorry. I just don’t feel good right now. Could I have some alone time?”

“Oh- oh, sorry,” Quentin’s face flushed. “I didn’t mean to intrude, I was heading to the campfire and then…” Meg felt a little bad, knowing that Quentin’s “lag” had sometimes gotten him in embarrassing situations. He must have thought he invaded her privacy. 

“You never have to apologize over something like that, Quentin,” Meg said. “Um. I’ll meet you over there later, okay?”

Quentin nodded and left. He’d find out what happened from Claude or Nea eventually. Meg sagged back against a tree and glared in the direction of the photos, where they were hidden under the canopy of too-tall grass. Not hidden well enough. She steeled her stomach and stumbled forward, closing her eyes as soon as she saw the bright yellow of the envelope. Her fingers glided around blindly, collecting every glossy piece of her friends’ humiliation. They were stacked up and slipped back into their paper pouch. Meg took a shaky breath. 

It felt so much heavier than before. She braced herself to admit her mistake. Hopefully, Laurie too had calmed enough to think rationally. 


Meg found the campfire in a bit of a flurry. She bit her lip and took a deep breath, hating how much she felt like a third grader about to give a presentation. She knew exactly what the commotion was about. 

She found Quentin arguing with Laurie, and David trying to interject. Claudette and Nea were off to the side, Nea patting Claudette’s shoulder and saying something in her ear. They were the first to notice Meg. Claudette looked up with worried eyes and rushed over, taking Meg's hands in her own. Everyone got quiet when they noticed. Meg felt pinned under the spotlight. 

"Meg! Please, don't ever do that again! I was so scared… is that?" The botanist looked at the envelope, surprise etched into her face.

"I... Laurie was right," Meg sighed, even though it pained her to say. "I shouldn't have looked. We should have just burned it...  I shouldn't have done that in front of you, Claude.  Any of you." She felt her cheeks redden at how easily she'd thrown herself in the fire. "I just... panicked. I'm sorry, Laurie. Really. And to you too, Nea." She looked to them, trying to put sincerity into her words. "That was really fucked up. I just… if there was a chance at… at rescue, I thought..."

"It's okay, Meg. We... we see it everyday," Nea began. "

“No," came Lauire's quiet reply. Meg looked over at her.  "I thought about it, and that was a stupid and selfish thing to do in front of us. Way too stupid for me to just forgive."

“Excuse me?" Meg tried to keep the anger from her voice. "I'm trying to patch things up here. It was selfish of you to just decide everything without asking us first! I get that opening that package was a bad idea, but you know what? If Trapper sent us another, I’d look again! I’ve seen plenty of shit to scar me for hundreds of lifetimes. I’m not afraid like you.”

“You know it’ll just be some morbid peacocking of his. You’re making me think you’re looking just for your own sick pleasure.”

“Why the fuck are you being so mean!?” Meg shouted. “What the fuck am I doing to piss you off so much? Rebelling? Against your forced-in leadership?”

“I’m not forcing anything-!” 

“Save it! You wanted this burned so bad-" She tossed the envelope into the fire. The flames reached out to catch it.  Meg flipped Laurie off. "I’m going off to look for food! And when I find some, I’m not sharing it WITH YOU!" 

"I was trying to protect you!" 

"Fuck off!" 

"Can you make things worse!" Nea shouted at Laurie, dashing after Meg. Laurie ignored her. And the pointed look she got from Claudette. David threw his hands in the air, confused. He and Quentin still only had half an idea of what happened. But Quentin had enough idea to turn a brow at the blonde woman. 

"Jesus, Laurie," Quentin said. "Can you be anymore of a damn bull?"

"You can fuck off too!" She spat. 

Quentin flinched, face hardening. Laurie realized his tone had been more teasing than malicious, but a sharp anger was driving itself through her chest. It felt like the Entity's claw, too powerful to keep from stabbing in. She wanted to tear the grass from its roots and punch a tree. 

"I'm sorry you haven't been handling this well," Quentin said in a low voice. His arms were crossed. "But don't talk to me like that. And don't talk to Meg. Not until you figure out how to control your temper."

"I don't have a temper."

Quentin quirked a brow. And for some reason, to Laurie, that was as good as calling her a liar. A million thoughts were bubbling on her tongue.  She huffed and stalked away before she could say anything worse. 



Jake was conflicted. One on hand, he was sorry to be pulled from what little warmth his stupid dog bed offered. On the other hand, he was grateful to be back by Dwight's side. The poor man didn't look like he got much sleep. As the killer latched on his leash and ordered him off the bed, he could see the dark bags under his eyes. 

“It’s chore day today, and I expect the same behavior as before,” Trapper began, hooking their leashes to his hip as he got dressed. He pulled on his mask last. 

Jake bumped Dwight’s shoulder before they were dragged apart and forced to crawl on either side of their Master’s legs. Dwight offered him a tiny, tense smile. Jake tried to match it, but really, he just wanted some skin on skin contact. Not having Dwight at his side last night had been hard. Trapper’s punishment had replayed itself in his head. The nightmare woke him up throughout the night. And maybe a few of those times were caused by the killer’s snores. 

Now, leading up into the sunset and towards the little workshop, Jake could still feel that nightmare dragging at his limbs, the phantom pains sometimes causing a shock to race up to his elbows. He realized that he was scared of being punished. Terrified, actually. He hadn’t sneered at Trapper once since he’d woken up. As if to test his patience, Trapper gave him a stroke on the back, dirty fingernails too rough on his skin. 

“Looks like my lesson worked pretty well,” he mused, satisfaction clear in his voice. His nails raked up to Jake’s head, scratching behind his ear. Jake grit his teeth and let it happen. “Good slut. Keep this up and maybe my dogs will earn themselves a reward.”

Jake was released, making a face as soon as Trapper turned his back. Any reward from him couldn’t be good. Trapper led them back to his work table. Jake immediately went to his designated spot at the left side of his boots. His chest was tight and his skin prickled when he leaned against the broad leg like Dwight had done before. Dwight did the same, his head lolling a bit as he shifted. Jake realized he must have wanted to sleep. So did Trapper. 

"Is my boy tired? What? Was I not good company last night?" 

There was a teasing mock to his voice. Dwight wasn't sure how to answer it, and rubbed his cheek against Trapper's knee. Open displays of submission were usually right answers. It seemed to work. Trapper slapped his thigh. 

"Up. You can rest here."

Dwight crawled onto his lap. It was a bit awkward, but as soon as he was halfway, he was hoisted up the rest of it by his arm. He squeaked and fell back into a hard chest. Trapper leaned back over the work table, his modified bear trap open in front of him. Dwight got comfortable, tucking against his Master' body and closing his eyes. Master idly stroked his hair as he worked. From below, Jake watched the whole scene with a wary gaze. 

He flinched when he felt Trapper look at him, eyes covered by that damn mask. Jake felt his gaze though. Sharp and calculating. Waiting for a slip-up. He bowed his head and tried to look as small as possible. He heard a tiny huff of laughter and Trapper was focusing back on his trap. Jake felt shame and anger rise in his chest. It was quickly stomped down by his fear to rebel.  

At least Dwight wasn't being harmed, or fucked. It seemed Trapper really was just letting him sleep in his lap. Jake wanted to reach up and take the other survivor's hand. It had gone limp by Trapper's side. His snores were light. Trapper hummed in satisfaction. Jake gagged as his leash was tugged, but he kept quiet when Trapper held a finger to his mask's lips. 

"You're going to suck me off," Trapper said lowly. "And if you wake up Dwight, I'll fuck you two against the wall until you're both hoarse from screaming, Got it?"

Jake's gaze flickered to Dwight. His cheek was pressed into the killer's jeans, brows furrowed slightly as he unconsciously tried to get more comfortable. The saboteur swallowed thickly and nodded. He knew he'd be struck if he used his hands, and crawled quietly between his legs. Trapper opened them further. Dwight mumbled against his chest. Jake's face pressed close to Trapper's crotch, an involuntary grimace on his face as he tried to grip the zipper with his teeth. 

"Good boy. You're already becoming such a perfect slut."

Ignore him for Dwight. Ignore him for Dwight. ignore him for Dwight. 

The zipper was tugged down. It took a few tugs, but Trapper's growing cock helped by pushing itself free. It bobbed in the cool air, the head almost touching Dwight's leg. Jake quickly reached up to suck it between his lips and drag it back down. Trapper groaned, and it was so loud, Jake froze in fear. Dwight kept snoring. He must have been really tired. 

Jake slowly began to bob his head, trying his damndest to keep from making those obscene slurping noises. The cock was so thick, he couldn't help but gag a bit. Especially when it suddenly jerked down his throat in earnest. Jake forced himself to take a deep breath through his nose. Trapper let go. Jake kept a steady pace, slow enough to subdue noise but fast enough to appease his captor. It still made him cringe. 

The clink of the chains. 

The 'pop' and 'slurp' of his throat. 

Trapper's heavy breaths. 

Fuck. Dwight was going to wake. Jake sped up. His tongue ran up the underside of Trapper's shaft and sucked on the tip before swallowing it whole. If he was gonna be loud, maybe he could finish before Dwight woke up. It pissed him off how loud Trapper was being, though. The fucking killer was starting to shift his hips, grunting at his approaching orgasm. 

Jake's heart fluttered when he saw Dwight's lids twitching. His fingers clenched on Trapper's legs, waking up now that he was being jerked around. Trapper grabbed Jake's head, then started to thrust. Dwight, now fully awake, yelped as he pushed back against Trapper, his own soft cock sliding over Jake's face. The poor man was mortified by that, but Trapper held his legs so he couldn't reel back. 

"Bad slut. You woke him up," the killer said. 

But his tone was light, and humorous, watching Jake's face intently for signs of rebellion. Jake schools his features, despite wanting to spit at him. He'd been trying as hard as he could. Trapper was the one who woke him! It made his lips curl, just a little bit. Trapper had grabbed Dwight's hair and yanked his head back. Jake's indignation was cooled by Dwight's pleading whines. His sneer settled. Trapper tutted. 

"And just when I thought I'd beaten that out of you. Suck his cock, make him cum, and maybe I'll forgive that attitude of yours."

Jake's teeth ground together. He tried to make eye contact with Dwight, to get the same level of subtle permission he'd gotten before. But Dwight's eyes had clenched tightly shut, fighting against the pain of his hair being pulled. Jake shoved away his guilt and leaned forward, licking at the flaccid cock that Trapper held between his dirty fingers. Dwight let out a low moan. When Jake took the head in his mouth, gently, as if scared he'd hurt him, Dwight threw his face into Trapper's shoulder, gasping. 

"Yeah, that’s it. Suck him off, pet," the killer ordered huskily. He let go of the growing cock, and let Jake take control. His breath was heavy as he lorded over the two survivors. "Yeah, you fucking slut. You like making him feel good, don't you?"

Jake ignored him. Or least, he tried to. He just focused on Dwight and the legs twisting around his head. The killer took hold of them to give Jake better access. Dwight's thighs started to shake as he tried to keep them open. It earned a chuckle from their Master. The killer pushed up his mask and lowered his head, breath ghosting over Dwight's face. He looked up, eyes foggy and cheeks dusted over in red. Trapper started to nibble on his neck. Dwight's body jerked at the extra sensation, his hips bucking up into Jake's mouth. The saboteur tried not to gag as the head touched the back of his throat. 

"Don't fucking stop," Trapper grabbed Jake's head and shoved him back down. 

He gagged again, retching as he forced himself not to pull back. Trapper would just make it worse. So he breathed shallowly through his nose and worked his tongue around the hard shaft. Dwight gasped. His cock gave a few eager twitches, followed by a cry and a burst of cum. 

Trapper kept bobbing Jake's head up and down the shaft as he swallowed the load. Even when it started to soften. Even when Dwight's moans of ecstasy turned to overstimulation. His legs kicked out weakly. They were shaking badly now, matching the trembling in his hands as he grasped at Trapper's body, maybe looking for leverage to pull himself from that warm mouth. Jake couldn't pull back. So he tried to keep his tongue out of the way, and his lips from pressing against the sensitive flesh too hard. It didn't help very much. Poor Dwight had started to cry. Trapper was attacking his neck with bites and kisses, his hand on Jake's head getting more rough. 

"That's my good boy. You'd never leave me, right, pet? You'll always be here with your Master." Trapper was mumbling into Dwight's ear. He sounded almost drunk. "Such a good slut. Good fucking slut. You love your Master, don't you? You'd do anything for me."

Jake was a bit horrified to see Dwight's glassy eyes roll upward and his lips part in painful breaths. His gasps turn to, "Y-yes, y-yes, I l-l-love y-you! I-I l-lov-ve you, Mast-ter! Th-thank-k y-you Mast-ter!!" 

Trapper smirked, then shoved Jake off his cock. The survivor hit the ground with a grunt, rolling onto his elbow and looking up in time to see the killer fisting Dwight's dick. He was practically squealing, his screams muffled into Trapper's fierce kiss as he was furiously jerked off. 

Dwight's body went rigid as he came a second time. Hardly anything came out, but his muscles spasmed and twitched. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, mouth opening wide to let Trapper attack it with his tongue. It was only when the killer's hand let go, did Dwight slump bonelessly into his lap. He kept muttered thanks under his breath. 

"Good boy. That's a good boy," Trapper sighed. He rubbed at Dwight's hair, holding him close to his chest and enjoying the afterglow of sex. Dwight's eyes were closing. He looked half-out of it, twitching every few seconds, and well on his way to passing out. 

Jake watched the scene warily, keeping low to the ground where he'd fallen. It felt like he'd witnessed something private. His face was neutral. Eventually, Trapper tugged him back by his leash. Jake crawled cautiously forward. Leaning against the killer's leg pained him. Especially with a cum-splattered Dwight slumped over his head. The man was asleep. Trapper used one hand to get back to work on his bear trap, the other wrapped around Dwight and kept him close. 

It made Jake's stomach feel cold.

Chapter Text

Quentin was sick of everything and everyone. After what happened between Meg and Laurie, the campfire had been tense. Laurie was refusing to speak to anyone and Meg was just pretending that nothing ever happened. 

It was only after Nea spoke privately with Meg that she learned what was in the envelope. It was no surprise. But it still made Quentin's stomach roll and David's face turn green. The brit had been pretty distant with everyone since then, distracted and lost in his head. He and Nea had gotten headaches trying to work out the conflict, and when he was called to a trial, Quentin was almost relieved. 

He focused on trudging through the metal walls of AutoHaven. A gen's lights flashed lazily in the distance. It was only the start of the trial, and as Quentin hunkered down to work, he hoped it'd be an easy one. The Wraith was never brutalizing like the other killers. He often seemed on autopilot, downing them without any strategy or purpose. A gen went off in the distance, as well as the chime of a bell. Quentin barely heard it. He was struggling to focus. He nearly missed a skillcheck. He grit his teeth and, again, came close to missing a check. He stopped. His hands fell to his lap. Tears, angry and frustrated, welled in his eyes. 

Not here. Don't freak out now. He begged himself. 

But he was cracking. He could see flashes of Trapper. Of waking up to Jake being fucked on top of him. Being brutalized. Quentin swallowed thickly, blinking back into the present. The hum of the generator came back into focus. So did lights, flickering over his face and lighting up another figure that had been standing before him. Quentin looked up at the Wraith. The killer was staring, arms at his side, and weapon loose in his hand. 

Quentin didn't run. His legs not only felt like lead, but he also felt sick of the game. He had no will to play cat and mouse right now. No want to fix generators or even attempt to open an exit gate. Quentin was too exhausted by everything. 

"You can just hook me," Quentin muttered, holding out his arms. After what Trapper put him through, he wasn't too scared of the routine hook. It was child's-play at this point. 

The terror radius felt muted in the back of his head. Like flies buzzing outside a window. Like static, the bad memories flashed before his eyes. It made him irritable, because he was too tired to be angry. The Wraith's head tilted. Quentin wondered if this was strange to the killer - being offered up such an easy kill. 

"Well?" he asked. "Easy sacrifice."

"If you do things like this, the Entity won't be happy."

Quentin's heart fluttered in surprise. He'd never heard the Wraith speak before. Didn't know he could, and yet, it was a soft and gentle voice he'd never expect. 

"The Entity can suck it," Quentin spat, none too eloquently. He was standing now, chin raised up towards the killer. He refused to be scared. He was so fucking sick of being scared, of dreaming of Kreuger, hooks, and now bear traps! Quentin's lips curled. He felt something akin to a growl low in his throat. "All of you... all of you things don't deserve my fear."

"The Entity will make things harder for you. Please," The Wraith's tone kept neutral and calm. It kind of pissed Quentin off more. He stood up straighter, arms still out in invitation. 

"I'm already in hell, what more can it take from me!" He spat. "No matter what I do, my friends will be taken one day. I'll be taken one day! If lying here means I reach my next hell faster, then I don't care. Kill me, you monster."

The Wraith's shoulders tensed a tiny bit, and Quentin braced himself for a blade to the neck. Yet the killer didn't raise his weapon. His cold eyes betrayed no emotion, but his next words were tense with regret. 

"I.... I'm very sorry."

"...What?" Quentin looked up, eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

"My words must mean nothing to you. But I... I wish things could be different."

Quentin's eyes were burning now. He refused to cry though. Anger and frustration helped keep him afloat. "And!? And what? You're sorry? For killing us!? For torturing us and mutilating us?!" 

The Wraith was quiet for a long moment. Quentin's breath was harsh. He had taken a few steps towards the killer, nearly poking him in the chest. Faintly, he wondered when this bravado was going to get him killed. 

"I understand." The Wraith said softly. "It's not fair."

Quentin ground his teeth. What the fuck was this killer going on about? 

"If you were actually sorry, you'd do something."

"I... have tried. Unless I could gain the favor of The Entity, then perhaps.... I'm sorry."

"Shut up!" Quentin nearly screamed. "Don't fucking apologize! You're as sick as the rest of them!" The tears started to fall. They felt near scalding. "We're not cattle for you to just butcher and fuck! We're humans! We're fucking humans!" 

He was so fucking angry. Quentin worked himself up until he couldn't speak. The stupid Wraith was still staring at him. Still holding that calm, demune behavior. Quentin struck up with a leg, kicking him in the shin. His arms pounded against a lage, hollow-sounding chest. The Wraith let him. It made Quentin furious how weak his punches and kicks felt. 

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! God, fucking go to hell!" 

Quentin was sobbing. His punches grew slower and began to tremble. Still, the Wraith didn't move. Eventually, the poor teenager lost his burst of adrenaline. His fists weakly struck the killer before falling to his side. His head was bowed. He felt cold and empty. 

"Just kill me. I can't fucking... I can't play anymore."

There was a moment of hesitation. Then The Wraith grabbed Quentin and hauled him up onto his shoulder. The teen yelped, a bit shocked at the sudden movement, but didn't struggle. 

"I... I will try to help," came the Wraith's low voice. Quentin tensed, listening. "I have already tried to speak with Evan, but he's stubborn."

"Evan?" Quentin asked, eyeing the hook they approached. His heart was thundering, but not in anticipation of pain. "Trapper?"


"You'd... you'd help us how?"

"Not all of us killers enjoy it here. Not all like killing. Let me speak with them."

Quentin grunted as he was hefted up. The Wraith drove the hook through his shoulder, trying to do it quick and clean. Quentin grabbed onto it anyway, screaming out hoarsely before going limp. The pain racked through his body, but he barely felt it. Gone was his fury, replaced with something similar to hope. But it couldn't be real hope. Quentin wouldn't allow that. 

"Promise," he groaned. "Fuckin' promise you'll h-help. Please."

"I promise. I will have spoken to the others by the time we meet again."

Quentin grit his teeth against a particularly strong bolt of pain. He managed to keep eye contact with the killer, though. 

"You better," he growled out. 

The Wraith crossed an 'x' over his dead heart. "I will."

And as if the conversation had never been spoken, the killer cloaked himself with the ring of a bell. Quentin sighed, almost disinterested as the sharp claws materialized fully before him. They raised high and struck. The teenager didn't even try to block them, blood gushing from his mouth as his gut was impaled.

The trial continued without him. 


Trapper slammed the door shut, waking Jake up. The survivor blinked, reaching out for the warm body beside him, confirming that the killer had left alone. Dwight rolled over, chains clinking as he grabbed his grasping hand. Jake pulled him a little closer. 

Jake had been sleeping in his dog bed most nights, while Trapper, for one reason or another, kept Dwight snuggled in his arms. Jake was only in the bed now because Trapper had wanted to use his ass in the middle of the night. It throbbed as he moved, but with their Master gone, he wrapped his arms around Dwight and tried to settle back down to sleep. 

"J-jake..?" Dwight asked quietly. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, finger tracing circles in the other's shoulder. Dwight's own fingers had fallen along Jake's chest, fidgeting nervously. 

"You okay?"

"I.... I-I d-don't l-like h-how m-much at-t-ttention M-Mast-ter's b-been g-giv-ving me... I f-feel like w-we don't get-t moment-t-ts like th-this. A...alone. I j-just... I feel s-safe with-th you."

Jake's arms tightened. Trapper's clinginess was getting a bit much. A bit scary. Jake and Dwight both had to be careful how they acted when they touched each other. Trapper only seemed to get upset if Dwight got too personal with his words, or Jake got too aggressive with  trying to shield Dwight. 

"It's me, I think. Trapper's always had you alone. He'll probably calm down after he gets used to me more." Jake cringed at his own words, despite the honesty behind them. Like he didn't think escape was coming anytime soon.  

"I-I w-wish-sh it-t was just-t-t us-s-s," Dwight said, voice hitching on a sob. "I.... I f-forgot-t w-what-t it-t was lik-ke to feel-l r-real... r-real..." The poor survivor stumbled over his words, unable to think of the right one. He'd work himself up if given the chance. 

"Take your time," Jake kissed the top of his head. Dwight settled more heavily against him. 

"Th-thank-k y-you," Dwight finally stuttered. "It-t's just... I kn-now I'm sc-c-crewed up. I h-have... s-stro-ong f-feelings f-for M-Mast-ter." He paused with bated breath, as if it were some huge, disgusting revelation. Jake just gave him another kiss. 

"It's okay, Dwight. That's okay."

"But, but it's different..." he trailed off. 

"Different?" Jake urged. He kept sneaking glances at the door, silently praying that the killer stayed busy. "I won't judge you, you know. I'd never judge you, Dwight."

Another sob forced Dwight to bury his face in Jake's chest. It took him a few minutes to gather himself. Jake patiently held him, waiting. 

"I.... I l-l-lov-v-ve y-y-you, J-jak-ke," Dwight whimpered. "A-and it-t-t's g-good. It-t's not-t-t p-painf-ful to f-feel lov-ve f-for y-you like it-t-t is f-for M-Master. I h-hate l-loving h-him. I h-hate it-t."

Jake's heart was still reeling from the non-direct confession. He licked his lips. They suddenly felt dry. 

"It's because Trapper doesn't love you back. What he feels is possession." He hesitated, but felt sure about his next words. "But I do. I love you, Dwight. I just want you to be happy. I'm not leaving your side. You're not alone anymore, okay?"

Dwight choked up, nodding furiously into his chest. "I w-want to l-leave." he admitted quietly. 

"We'll escape. I promise, one day, we'll escape."

Dwight didn't respond to that, probably skeptical. Instead, Jake felt him shift under his grip, head tilting up to suddenly catch Jake's lips in a light kiss. Jake kissed him back. It wasn't like Trapper's touch. They were gentle and soft with one another, Jake running his hands up Dwight's arms and Dwight tangling his feet with his own. 

Their kissing never turned any more heated than a quick swipe of the tongue. Dwight had leaned down to trail more pecks and licks against Jake's neck, gasping as the saboteur lightly trailed his nails along his back. His hands moved lower, spreading down his hips and massaging over any skin he touched. Dwight's breath was picking up with his body heat, rubbing against the other and moaning softly at the hardness against his thigh. 

"J-jak-ke, j-jake, th-that f-feels r-really g-g-good."

Jake had to resist the urge to grind against his soft body, shifting his leg so he could feel Dwight's own arousal. 

"Do you want me to keep going?" Both their hands were trailing over their bodies, breathless and red-faced in between their kisses. Jake still wanted a verbal answer. 

"G-god, y-yes."

He grabbed Dwight's hips and ground into him, their cocks rubbing against one another. Jake took both of them in his hands, thumb rubbing at the leaking heads. His owns hips started to rut, unable to keep from chasing after the waves of pleasure. Dwight grabbed his lips in a surprisingly eager kiss, hands reaching up to run through Jake's unruly, dark hair. Jake felt a bit of shock through his fog of arousal. Dwight's lips were quirked up in a tiny smile. Jake hadn't seen him smile since the campfire. And even then, those were rare and forced. 

"I love you," Jake whispered against his breath. The smile grew a little wider, and Jake repeated himself, rolling over the top of Dwight so he could more easily jerk them off. Dwight's hand reached down to help, clasping Jake's own just as they both reached the peak of their arousal. 

"Gah, fuck," Jake hissed. 

The orgasm rocked through him, harder than any he'd ever had. He felt Dwight shake against him, his lips still attacking his throat as he rode out his own orgasm. Neither removed their hand from the now sticky mess between their stomachs. 

Jake felt like he should clean up. Maybe discard the evidence of what happened before Trapper got back. He had no idea if the killer would be upset by their play-time. Probably, if he wasn't the one to order it. Dwight was already half-asleep against his shoulder. He didn't want him to wake up to a punishment. So with a grimace, Jake cleaned the cum between them, forced to scoop it up with his fingers and swallow it. 

When it was clean, he pulled Dwight closer to the foot of the bed. They wrapped up in eachothers limbs and, before long, the room was filled with snores. 

Chapter Text


Ghostface's boots were soaking wet as he tramped through the tall underbrush. It was cold out, with a moonless and starless sky somehow lighting the way forward. It never got too dark to pick out shapes. Not that Danny needed much light to get around in the first place. 

He slipped through the hub that connected all the killer's homes. It was just a forest, filled with red veins and grotesque plants that couldn't be found anywhere else in The Entity's realm. The crows here had red eyes. Ugly black rats lived in the trees, curiously looking at Danny as he passed by. He sneered at them and flashed his knife. The creatures scurried away. He chuckled and whistled all the way to the edge of the forest. 

The red-veined trees thinned. They became less grotesque and more normal. Like the trees in that park Danny used to find victims in. He fondly wondered how the lucky souls in his black book were doing, The Entity having unknowingly saved their lives. The thought of it used to pain Danny. Left him dissatisfied. But now, something else could fill that hole. 

He grinned as he stepped towards the sound of music. It was as bright and colorful as the tents and flags around him - carnival music. The smell of stale beer, old kettle corn and despair hung in the air. Danny never had reason to visit Kenneth's realm. And he hoped he never had one after. That nasty, drooling horse bobbed its head as he passed, hacking its lung out. It spied him with those glowing, beady eyes. Danny felt a chill run up his spine. That fucking horse was one of the few things that spooked him. Damn, creepy thing. 

Danny kept walking until he heard a more human-sounding cough. It was coming from one of the trailers, followed by the crash of glass. Purple gas flooded from the cracked windows, pouring out and down the sides. The door swung open. A flood of the toxins poured out, along with a hacking figure. Danny stood there until he was noticed. 

Hack! Hack! The clown wiped at his mouth, taking a ragged breath. "Well, well, well, if it ain't the sly ghost! I thought I felt somethin’ sneaky crawling up my spine. What are ya' doin' here, ya fuck-twig?" 

"Fuck-twig, hm. Creative," Danny mused, stepping back from the approaching clown. He could smell his body odor, even from under his mask. "Before you run me off, I'm here for a reason. I have something that might interest you."

"You ain't got nothin' but sly words," The Clown waved his hand. "Trickey is all you're good at."

It seemed the Clown was smarter than he gave him credit for. It made him grimace

"No tricks today," Danny said jovially, holding up his hands. "Just a man looking for some help. You're the only other killer that I think can help me out. And of course, you'd get something out of it. Something real nice."

The clown eyed him suspiciously. "You were in Trapper's realm."


"I heard you got to see that pet of his."

"I did."

"This what that's about?"

"He has two pets now. I only want one. You have the tools to get to him. That means there'd be another pet left for the taking. You help me, I help you," Danny shrugged. 

The Clown left out another series of fierce coughs. He laughed in between them. "This has gotta be too good to be true. You're gonna stab me in the back, ain't ya? I know how sneaky, little fucks like you work. I ain't stupid."

"I know exactly where they are being kept and how to break in. Your potions can help me complete this plan. You can modify them, right?"

The clown looked him up and down. "Yeah, I can."

"Can you make them confuse Evan long enough while I snag the pets?"

"You snag em', huh?" the clown snickered. "And then you leave me to deal with the pissed off owner?"

Okay. Maybe he's way smarter that I pegged him for. Fucker. Maybe I'm acting too eager...

"No. We can stick together. If it means I can have access to your bottles. And only if you can make something that can confuse Evan for longer than two minutes. That's all we'll need to grab our prizes."

"Only I handle my bottles," the clown snapped. "And you'd have to give me a few days to ferment something strong enough to stun Overalls."

"So, you're interested? Not even interested in who the survivor is?"

"Hehe, hack! hack! I ain't give a fuck who the poor slut is. All I want is a human toilet. And I am not a picky man. Can't say I expected to get that dream fulfilled by you, but The Entity works in funny ways, don't it?"

Danny grimaced under his mask. But he forced out an airy laugh and held out his hand. 

"It always does. All you need to do is get those bottles ready. I'll get everything else we need to break into Evan's hovel."

The clown clasped his hand. Danny's skin, despite being wrapped in leather, tingled grossly at the near contact.

"You better not be settin' me up for a scam, partner," the clown said, grip near bone-breaking. 

Danny nodded, gripping back with just as much strength. The lie slipped easily through his teeth. 

"I'd never dream of it."


"Two down, one to go," Danny quipped to himself. 

He had left the carnival behind, back into the killer's hub. He needed just one more fool to complete his plan. Krueger had been too easy to trick. The clown was a bit more clever than he gave him credit for, and Danny had a bad feeling that he was onto his tricks. 

Didn't matter, though. Danny's plan would work out one way or another. He always loved seeing the pieces fall into place. But he was missing that final piece - one more idiot to unwittingly cause chaos. He had a few ideas in mind. 

There were some killers who were indifferent to Trapper's pets - the Hag and the Spirit could barely recall their own names, or want beyond their vengeful hunger.  Pyramid Head was impossible to communicate with, and Danny wasn't sure he even had a dick. Guy seemed like the type to get off on barb wire through the ass. And then there was Micheal. That guy sent shivers up Danny's spine. The creep didn't speak. And the few times Danny tried to get him to chit-chat, he'd earned himself a brutal stabbing. It seemed safe to assume he had no sex drive, just a blood lust. 

The Wraith was definitely a no-go. Last Danny heard, the fucker had actually tried to ask Trapper to let his pets free! Danny snickered. Ironic how that poor bastard had to be a killer. He might feel more at home being stabbed in the mud, reaching for an open exit hatch. 

Danny paused in his walk. He'd been so lost in his own head, he hadn't noticed the figure watching him through the trees. His eyes narrowed. The familiar white face and dark jumpsuit drew closer. Danny had no idea how long Michael had been following him. He sneered, but his voice was jovial and devoid of the defensive anger he felt. 

"Hey there, Mikey. Haven't seen you for a while. How have you been?" 

Of course, there was silence in return. Danny touched the weight of his dagger, hidden. He didn't draw it yet. Michael's head tilted. Danny's hand wrapped around the blade's handle. His spine was tingling with the warning of imminent danger. 

"Come on, Micheal, stop being a creep and come out with it," Danny urged. "What are you sneaking around for?"

The large butcher knife glinted as Michael's arm shifted. He'd been holding it, hidden at his side. Danny withdrew his own, smaller knife just in time to deflect Michael's weapon. It 'shinked' off the metal and over his head. The smaller killer dropped to the grass, rolling away from the stomp of a heavy boot. Michael stabbed at the ground between his legs as Danny scrambled backwards, kicking out and striking his face. He grunted. It felt like hitting concrete. It was honestly a bit embarrassing. In the hub, all killer's were at their normal strength. 

Danny knew most of the killers could kick his ass, but it always felt like shit when it happened. When he got his pet, he'd have to stay in his own realm for a while. It was basically impossible to kill a killer in their own realm. But he hadn't expected to be attacked until after he pulled off his plan. Especially not by this silent fucker. 

"Fuck off!" Danny snarled. 

He had lost his knife somewhere in the grass. He punched the solid face, hissing at the ache in his knuckles. That hiss turned to a grunt as Michael's blade slid cleanly between his ribs. Danny coughed blood into his mask. It blinded him, and he gagged, the knife thrusting back in. Over and over and over, Michael held the killer's throat as he filled his body full of holes. 

Danny choked on his blood. He kept kicking out, straddled by the dead weight of the much larger man. He spat out garbled curses, pissed at Michael for putting him behind schedule. Cursing him because he didn't understand why he was attacking him in the first place. 

Myers finally pulled out his knife and let it fall to the dirt. Danny was still clinging to life. Pain wracked his body, but he reached out with a strong grip when Michael tried to pull back his robes. 

"Wha... what the fu-" Danny sneered, unable to push the words out. Michael patted him down before snagging the hidden trove of photos. Danny jerked in surprise. How long had this fucker been watching him? 

He reached for the photos as Michael flipped through them. His hand was stabbed into the ground. Danny slumped down in the bloodied grass. His vision faded in and out as he watched Michael take only a few photos and slip the rest back where he found them. The knife came out with a squelch, his hand stinging with the cold bite of the retracting blade. Another 'fuck you' tried to work past his lips, but Myers was already gone. 

The words sputtered out on his last breath. 






"Gah! Fuck!" 

Danny lurched upward, grasping at his throat as he sucked in a long breath. It still felt like he was suffocating, but he was alive and whole, once more on the floor of his apartment. His hands fumbled around his robe, retrieving the photos and flipping through them. 

"Ah, fuck me, I should'a been more careful," Danny hissed. Michael knew about the pets. And it looked like he had an eye for one of them. Not a single photo of Dwight had been stolen. But all of Jake's had been. 

"At least he's not after my pet," Danny grumbled. Michael was (and holy shit, it pained Danny to think this) a better stalker than him. He feared that, even with all the advantages he had in his own realm, Michael was the one killer who could get to him. 

"Fuck. This isn't good."

Danny clambered to his feet. Having learned his lesson, he took his precious photos to his nightstand and locked them in the drawer. Then he went about gathering his notebook and planner, going through the next steps with careful fervor. Myers knew about the pets, and Danny was sure the silent mass would be barging into Trapper's territory soon. Then Trapper would get skittish and move his rewards. Danny couldn't have that. 

But he'd always been good at adapting. Krueger and the clown would be overjoyed to start the plan early anway.

Chapter Text

Dwight was dreaming of warmth and soft kisses, snuggled into a woodsy-smelling chest. He sighed contently, half-awake and half-asleep. Jake was snoring softly above him. Dwight’s eyes closed, ready to go back under. The illusion of safety and calm was shattered by the jingling of a lock. Dwight pretended to be asleep as the door swung open and heavy boots walked inside. Jake tensed too, arms tightening a bit. Dwight tried to match the pace of his even breathing. 

Their Master wandered to the side. He set things down, taking his time. There came the sound boots being kicked off and the unbuttoning of his overalls. Dwight grimaced, feigning his awakening and pushing himself up. Master would just be upset if he wasn't ready to give a massage. Master had been demanding a lot of them lately. Jake knew what was wordlessly being asked of them too, shifting so he could sit up on his hands and knees besides the other survivor. 

“Damned tools ain’t working right,” Master was grumbling. 

Dwight could tell he was distracted. If he and Jake gave him a good massage, he’d probably just go to sleep without wanting a fuck. He took the initiative to rub his cheek against Master’s idle hand. It turned, combing through his hair. The overalls fell quickly after, and Master clambered onto the mattress. It dipped with his weight. He and Jake kept their balance on either side of him, Dwight already working at his shoulders before Master was fully on his stomach. 

“Go slow and deep,” Master growled. He tossed his mask onto the pillows. “I was bent over the last several hours trying to fix those fucking traps. Damn Entity isn’t giving me what I need to fix them…”

Dwight responded by kissing the knots he worked at. When Master vented, he liked to feel like he was being listened to. Dwight had figured out how to do that without words, or being a nuisance. He locked eyes with Jake and nodded at Master’s back. 

‘Light kisses, but not too much. Just after he rants.’

Jake nodded. His intelligent eyes cast back down to his work, a flash of disgust crossing his features before he followed Dwight’s advice. He gave three light kisses, then pulled back, deeming it enough. Master was relaxing nicely, safely, under their fingers. 

Dwight wasn’t prepared for the sudden arm reaching around, a hand grasping blindly for his collar and tugging him down to Master’s face. Dwight loosened his tense muscles. He fell beside the killer and let his work his tongue into his mouth, the slow, languid licks building in rhythm. Maybe he was going to get fucked, Dwight wondered worriedly. He’d been really enjoying his nap. 

The tongue in his mouth stilled. Master made a disgruntled, confused sound. He grabbed the back of Dwight’s neck roughly and sat up, shoving Jake away. The saboteur grabbed the edge of the bed, almost toppling off. His worried eyes flashed towards Dwight, but the poor man was fully focused on Master’s lips. They were twitching into a displeased frown. 

No. No, no! What did I do?? Dwight was already choking on a sob, maybe even before Master realized he was angry. 

“You smell like sex.” His other hand came down, roughly fondling his flaccid cock. He found a small bit of cum there, and wiped it on Dwight’s chest with a sneer. “You little slut .”

Dwight didn’t say anything. There was no question. Master was pissed. He might have let it go, if his traps hadn’t been causing him grief. But the sneer had an especially twisted angle to it. He was having a bad day. Dwight knew better than to push his luck on bad days. He bowed his head to avoid looking at his fate. He’d endure it like a good pet. 

Master yanked him onto his stomach. The large killer crawled over the top of him, the grip around his neck nearly choking him. Dwight tried not to struggle as his legs were roughly kicked up. Master thrust into his dry ass without prep. His scream sounded like a dying pig. His toes curled against the fresh waves of pain, every thrust tearing at his insides. 

“You dirty whore. I’m too fucking lenient with you. Letting you sleep in the bed with that mutt.”

Jake was slunk down, teeth bared like some kind of snarling animal. He looked ready to jump on Trapper and start throwing fists. The killer kept fucking Dwight, glaring at his newest pet. 

“You little fucker. You’re no more trained in than a street dog, aren’t you? You just couldn’t keep your dirty paws to yourself. This hole is mine. Your hole is mine.”

Jake didn’t move. Neither attacked, nor relented his obvious display of aggression. Dwight was holding in his sobs as he was pounded into the bed. 

“Rule number five, slut,” Master barked at Jake. “Show me you at least learned something, and I’ll stop using his blood as lube.”

“Master is everything,” Jake bit out. His shoulders drooped a little though, when true to his word, Trapper’s hips slowed.  He didn’t stop fucking his toy compeltely. And Jake’s body remained poised like it was about to pounce. 

“I guess that thick skull of yours can hold onto something. Repeat all the rules for me. And drop the attitude.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. His eyes kept flickering down the whimpering mess under their owner. When he spoke, he made sure to keep his eye fixed on Trapper’s face. 

“Pets don’t walk on two legs. Pets don’t speak unless spoken to. Obey Master’s commands without question. Always address Master appropriately. Master is everything.”

Trapper stopped thrusting, but was fully sheathed in his pet. 

“Better. We’re going to add a few more rules to the roster. And you better learn them without me having to tear you limb from limb.”

Jake paled, looking down at the crumpled sheets. 

“Look at me, bitch, Your bodies belong to me. That means no touching. No touching yourselves. No touching each other. And you…” Master shook Dwight, eliciting a tiny shriek. “Is my dick not good enough for you?” 

“N-no, M-mast-ter! I l-love y-your c-cock!” 

A little chuckle broke from the killer’s cold mask. He finally eased his grip and let Dwight suck in full breaths. The gasping survivor kept muttering sorry under his breath. But Trapper had focused back on Jake. 

“What’s the new rule?”

“Don’t… don’t touch ourselves or eachother…”

“No. You don’t don’t what’s mine. Say it.”

“I don’t touch what’s yours.”


“I don’t touch what’s yours.”

“I don’t want to call you a good dog, after that shit you just pulled.”

Despite his gruff words, Trapper eased out of Dwight. The man let out a pained whined, wiggling as his owner leaned a hand into his throat. Trapper was glaring at Jake. But with Dwight no longer being speared, he sunk further into the bed. His eyes started to flicker downcast, side to side like the realization of what he’d done was washing over him. 

“You both are going to receive proper punishments,” Master began. “You’re going to learn that you are property. My property.”

There was a sudden, alarming crack that ricocheted throughout the room. All three tensed, Trapper jerking off the bed and grabbing his cleaver. An inky blackness began spewing from the center of the floor. With another crack, wood jutted through the darkness. More followed, piecing together like shifting bones until a whole chest sat in the center. Trapper had put his weapon down. The Entity’s claws enticingly glided along the closed lip before sinking back into the ground. The darkness went with it. The chest sat innocently. A tiny black bow was on its unlocked padlock. It fell off as Trapper kicked the lid up with a foot. He made a noise of interest and knelt down, fumbling with what sounded like metal pieces. Dwight and Jake exchanged fearful glances. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Jake mouthed. 

‘It’s not your fault.’ Dwight barely got the words out before Master was turning. They didn’t dare to let him catch them talking. Trapper held the chest under his arm. He briskly walk by the bed and unraveled their chains, hooking their collars and dragging them to the floor. He kept a fast pace, forcing his pets to stumble and falter as they crawled quickly. Dwight was nearly choked as they were led up the stairs. Jake tried to help, but was kicked harshly into the wall, away from Dwight. 

“What’s rule fucking six?”

“D-don’t touch your property,” Jake gasped out. 

He barely righted himself before his chain pulled taut. He scampered forward, his head and side throbbing. Dwight was quietly crying a good few feet beside him. They were tugged out into the dark night. The cool dirt was a blessed relief from the scraping wood. Their palms and elbows were rubbed raw, leaving spots of blood behind them. The trail followed them all the way to Trapper’s workshop. The little shed was glowing. A small, flickering fire was lighting up the open-faced building. 

“Don’t fucking move. Put your faces in the dirt and lift your asses up. Don’t even think about looking at each other.”

Dwight buried his tears into the ground. Jake was doing the same, allowing anger to overcome his features. He sneered into the earth. It cooled some of the nervous energy in his body. Not all of it. He heard Trapper opening the chest and busying himself behind them. 

Jake closed his eyes and prepared for the worst. 

His soul was weary...

Is there anyone who'd want to help? 


Philip had just been run out of the Spirit's territory. He held a nasty slash on his shoulder that sluggishly dripped blood. He had never really spoken to her before, and when he tried, she'd just screamed and sobbed as she attacked him. Philip didn't need to be told twice. He let himself feel sorry for the poor women before continuing through the killer's hub. 

Philip wasn't sure where else to go. He didn't trust most of the killers. Most of them would either laugh in his face, or just try to hack him to pieces. Philip took a moment to wrap his wound. He wasn't sure how much he could help, but after his encounter with Quentin, he'd been unable to think of anything but the teenager's agonized words. It had set Philip's heart aching with guilt. More than he could handle. 

So he'd been looking. Looking for help. The Oni had laughed and spit at him. Then, he'd visited Adiris, who had told him to just play his trials and stay out of drama. Philip had been offended that it was just 'drama' to her. He left feeling even more hopeless than before. 

"Those poor souls," Philip sighed. 

His ability to do nothing had been wearing him thin. He almost wanted to take Adiris' advice and just do what The Entity asked. But then he thought of Quentin. His stomach rolled. He felt fidgety and nervous. Not unlike the sensation of waiting at the dentist when he was a small child. He didn't want to face Quentin and act like nothing happened. He wanted to tell the boy that he was making progress. That he had a plan and would bring his friends back to him. 

Philip clasped his head in his hands, took a deep breath, and stood tall. He kept replaying the angry survivor's insults in his head. The desperate insults, as if he had nothing left to fight with, fueled the killer's need to keep moving. There were a few killers left he could talk to. He had no idea how they'd react, but he'd never know if he never asked. 

Philip trekked further into the hub. 


The school was shadowed by dark, swirling clouds. Chains hung from them. Twitching, shriveled corpses were trapped in cages beneath. Philip almost turned back at the sight of them, unsure if the killer of this realm enjoyed the constant suffering. But Philip didn't want to judge too early. He'd barely had any interaction with Pyramid Head, even with all the time they'd been here. 

Philip waited at the mouth of the school, shuffling on his feet. Pyramid Head would be alerted to his presence by now. Philip hadn't brought a weapon. He wanted to look as non-threatening as possible, and hoped it'd be enough. 

The scrape of a huge blade against stone slowly grew. Philip couldn't help but be unnerved by it. The corpses above his head reacted in kind, shivering violently and banging against their cages. The hulking figure of their tormentor came into view. Pyramid Head paused several feet away. He didn't seem angry at Philip's presence. Nor did he seem even interested. He just stared, his huge metal mask bobbing with each steady breath. 

Unsure if he'd take offense to his known name, Philip just began with a wave.  "Hello. My name is Philip. I was hoping I could speak with you, peacefully."

The man (monster? demon?) kept breathing for another several seconds. Philip felt awkward, and almost turned around to seek out another realm. But Pyramid Head jerked his shoulder around, turning and lurching back into the school. Philip just caught the wave of his hand as he gestured for his guest to follow. Surprised, Philip hurried up the steps. 

The groans of the tortured faded as they entered the halls. It helped eased Philip's nerves and he more easily rehearsed what he was going to say as he stared at Pyramid Head's back. He blushed a little as his eyes went downward, snapping back up with an air of self-shame. He had quite the... backside, Philip mused. 

His attention diverted to the classroom they stepped into. There was a green board and chalk scattered on the ground. Desks were left in varying stages of disarray. Pyramid head stood by the board, watching Philip with those constant heavy breaths filling the air. Philip cleared his throat. He didn't think he'd get this far. 

"Um, thank you for letting me in, first of all."

The metal casing just kept breathing. Philip's was stricken with doubt. Wasn't this killer some kind of torturer? He wondered if this was a waste of time, but without a clear sign of rejection, he pushed forward. 

"And secondly, I'd like to ask for your help. If you haven't heard, Evan has been gifted one of the survivors as a reward. He has two humans under his care now, and they are suffering in ways far beyond what The Entity requires of us. I've promised to return these humans to the survivors. I'm asking you to help me do that."

The killer was still silent. He made no move to run Philip out, so The Wraith steadied his voice when next he spoke. He was hoping he was making progress. 

"I know it may seem strange, but I want to help the survivors... but I have no loyalty to The Entity. I was forced here, just like them."

Pyramid Head's casing lifted, as if he were listening more closely. Philip wondered if it had more to do with the mention of the deity than his empathy for the survivors. 

"I have no idea if it will be upset by my choices, or try to punish me in retaliation. It's a risk I'm willing to take, and one I'm asking you to take with me. I am asking you to go against The Entity. "

Pyramid Head swayed on his sword, the stretch of flesh and metal groaning as he looked up at the sky. Philip looked with him, to the dark clouds and beyond, where a giant, spider-like god was residing. Pyramid Head's fists were clenched angrily, the one around his sword handle flexing, as if itching to swing at an invisible enemy. 

"You don't like The Entity," Philip noted. 

Pyramid Head looked back at him. There was a moment's pause, before he gave a slow, swaying shake of his head. The sword came up, then struck straight into the earth with tremendous strength. 

"You hate it."

Another heavy nod. 

"Would you go against it, and help me?"

The head lobbed back and forth. No. Philip's shoulders sagged. 

"You do not care for the survivors?"

Pyramid Head shook his head again. No. I don't. 

"Ah. I'm sorry for wasting your time then. I appreciate you listening to me, regardless."

Philip didn't want to push his luck. He'd already been run out of too many realms today. At least this one didn't stab him out the door. But a strong hand grabbed his shoulder. Pyramid Head turned to grab a small piece of chalk from a desk. It hit the dusty board, crumbling white lines etching into the shape of a familiar weapon. When the monster was done, he dropped the chalk and stood back. It was a drawing of a chainsaw. 

Philip cocked his head. "There are two killers who use those. Dirty apron? Mask?"

Pyramid Head gave a shake. No. 

"Then, you mean the killer on the farm?" 


Philip had no idea what The Hillbilly's name was. The poor lad could only speak garbled English, and usually fell into fits of rampages if someone tried to speak to him. Philip didn't understand why this particular gentleman was being brought up. 

"Should I go to him? Is that what you're telling me?"


"Oh. You think he'd help me?"


Philip was a little stunned. Did the two know each other? He wiped away any shock from his face, trying to remain polite. "Thank you. I'll go to him right away."

Pyramid Head, as if that was all he needed to hear, began to shuffle away. Philip felt a little awkward as the killer shuffled out the back of the classroom, leaving him alone among the groans of his realm. Philip quietly and quickly slipped away.

Chapter Text

Evan rubbed at Dwight’s ass. His legs were shaking hard enough to throw the terrified survivor off balance. The killer held a handle of a long metal beam. At its end was a flat casing. It was heated a vibrant, glowing orange by the fire. The dark cold of the night hissed against it. 

Evan admired the end of the brand. A heavy dark iron was made of sharp edges and triangular teeth - the shape of a bear-trap. It was just large enough for the area Evan fondled under his thumb. Dwight was sobbing into the dirt. He yelped when the metal drew close and heat radiated over his flesh, reddening it without touching. Dwight buried his hands under his glasses as if he could block out the coming punishment. 

“I’m giving you permission to be as loud as you want,” Evan began mockingly. “I’ll even let you thank me for this mark. This’ll prove to anyone and everyone that you belong solely to me.”

Dwight nodded furiously. 

“Put your face down and your hands flat beside your head. Good boy. Raise that ass. You're going to take your punishment and then thank me right after. Understood, pet?”

“Y-y-y-yes M-mas-s-st-t-ter-” Dwight choked out. 

Evan gave his rump one last slap before lining up the brand. Dwight whimpered incoherently below him. It made Evan’s chest a little lighter, knowing he still had this power over his little toy. When the hot metal pressed into his right ass cheek, Evan had to pin Dwight with his legs to make sure the scar would heal in the desired shape. 

“T-th-thank-k y-you!” Dwight all but wailed. “T-th-th-thank y-you, M-Mast-ter! T-th-thank y-you for-r p-p-punish-shing me!” 

Evan let go. He had to hold a hand to the survivor’s hip to keep him upright, but when Dwight gained his bearings, he steadied himself with a sob. 

“Good slut. Keep your ass in the fucking air. I still ain’t done with ya. And you, mutt. Keep your damned face in the ground. Close your eyes. Don’t open them until it’s your turn. If I see you looking at my pet, I’ll gouge out his eyes. Then yours.”

Jake complied quickly. Evan chuckled as Dwight shuddered beneath him. He gave him one last reassuring pat and walked to his work bench. He’d been meaning to try this out, anyway. Now seemed as good a time as any. Coils of rope hung from the wall. He took some, towering over Dwight with an eager gleam behind the holes in his mask. 

Dwight’s own eyes had shut, forehead beaded with sweat as he struggled against the pain on his ass. His limbs were wretched to the back of him. Legs were kicked further apart. The rope began to slide around his skin, rough and ragged and scratching. Dwight bit back a whimper as a tight knot was tied off. He was shoved flat onto his stomach. Master crawled on top, bending Dwight’s legs so he could tie off his ankles above his wrists. There was a moment of pressure and then the rope pulled taut. Dwight was let go. He wiggled slightly, unable to do more than shift his bound body side to side, face struggling to push itself off the dirty ground. Master told him to be still, then took the remaining rope over to Jake. 

The saboteur still had his face down. He flinched when a rough hand grabbed his side, shoving him over and onto his stomach. Jake gasped. His eyes widened as a hand wrapped around his neck to keep him still. It wasn’t needed. He let the killer man-handle his arms. Like Dwight, they were tightly bound behind him. His legs were propped up. The knot was too tight, but he didn’t dare complain. Sweat began to bead on his forehead though, an indication of his anxiety as Master left to reheat the brand. Jake didn’t even attempt a stolen glance at Dwight. He could hear him sniffling to the side. He didn’t want to make this worse. 

“This is gonna look nice, right here,” Trapper said, wandering back and grabbing a handful of Jake’s ass. He slapped it hard, leaving a stripe of red flesh. Jake just flinched. Trapper hummed appreciatively and eased his backside into the air. The heat was angled over the newly forming bruise. 

Jake wished he had something to bite into. His teeth felt like they were cracking. But that pressure was nothing. Nothing compared to the searing white agony of that brand touching his ass. Jake jerked violently. The hand dropped back to his neck, Trapper growling at him to stop moving. Jake breathing sharply through his nose. His body stilled, but he couldn’t shake the tremors that wracked his frame. Even when the brand left, the heat still stayed, deep in his skin and flesh and feeling like it was scorching bone. 

“Fuck,” he whispered into the ground. The curse turned to a blood-curdling scream. Trapper had slapped the mark, way less gentle with the healing lines than he’d been with Dwight’s.

“Hehe, I gotta torture you a little,” Master chuckled. “Especially for all the headaches you’ve given me.”

Through his haze of pain, his body rocked forward. Jake blinked away his tears, grunting against the hard bulge rubbing at his ass. The brand was shifting. It hurt like fucking hell. Blood slipped down his leg, weeping free. 

Jake winced. Two of Trapper’s thumbs pressed down, peeling open his ass cheeks. Something hot pressed against his hole. It shoved in without any thought for who it was using. His insides burned. Trapper pressed his hips flush to Jake, the brand crying out as it was rubbed against. 

“But you didn’t fight me. I guess that deserves a reward, doesn’t it?” Trapped continued. Jake didn’t like the happy lilt in his voice. “And since you seem to enjoy what’s mine so much…”

Jake’s sides were grabbed. Trapper kept his cock sheathed inside of him as he lifted him up, back flush to his stomach. He gave a few more rough thrusts as he kicked Dwight up and onto his knees. The survivor struggled to keep the position, his face going beet red as Jake’s half-hard cock was swung in front of his face, his master’s own girth pumping into and out of his ass just inches away. 

“Suck him off. And look at me while you do it, pet.”

   Dwight strained his neck, trying to grab at his dick. But Trapper wouldn't stop thrusting, jerking it away from his lips every time he nearly closed around the head. 

“Are you trying to piss me off, Dwight.” Master growled. 

Dwight’s poor heart jerked in panic. He desperately tried to grab the cock, face heating under Trapper’s loud laughter. Eventually, he grabbed a hold of the shaft between his lips and sucked it in. Jake was making strained groans, head thrown back and teeth grinding together as his insides were plowed. 

“That’s a good slut. God, you’re so fucking tight.”

Jake just gave a long-winded groan in response. Dwight had sucked him to full hardness, bobbing his head in time with the thrusts. But then the bodies above him jerked forward. Dwight was struck by Jake’s knee and fell backwards. Trapper gave a grunt of surprise, dick slipping free and sending Jake tumbling free. 

Dwight grunted, Jake’s weight hitting his side as the man rolled into the dirt with a heavy thud. Dwight felt him trying to roll onto his back, but his gaze was wide, terrified and focused on his Master’s chest, something sharp and long digging up through it. The prongs separated. Flesh and skin ripped apart. 

They were blades, Dwight's frenzied mind registered. 

Trapper’s elbow jabbed behind him to strike his assaulter in the face., despite the gaping hole now in his chest. The blades retracted, and a man with a melted face and bold, striped sweater was fumbling backwards. Master grabbed his head, shaking it as the other man regained his senses too. 

Dwight tried to move back. Crawl away. Anything! But he was too tightly bound to do anything but wiggle helplessly. Jake was doing the same, shifting so that his body rolled closer to Dwight. Master was scuffling with the stranger. Dwight felt sick with fear at the idea of those fingers blades sinking into his flesh. 

“Fuck, it’s Krueger,” Jake was hissing. “We gotta get out of these ropes while they’re busy.”

Dwight knew that name. The man that stalked Quentin’s dreams! He shivered with another, even deeper wave of nausea. The rope was too tight. He tried to squirm closer to Jake, if only to feel the comfort of his warm skin. 

“I-I c-c-an’t-t get-t-t out-t!” 

“Move back with me,” Jake ground out. 

He was staring hard at the fight. Krueger had slashed up Trapper’s chest, but had his shirt grabbed and was being pummeled in the face. Trapper didn’t have his cleaver though, and Jake looked at Dwight before he could see Krueger’s blades thrust up. Trapper took a step back and nearly stomped on Dwight’s leg. The poor man yelped and rolled back a few inches. Jake bumped into him, but couldn’t really do anything to help. He could only close his eyes as more blood splattered over them. The two were mangling each other. 

Suddenly, there was the crash of a broken bottle and a flooding of purple gas. Dwight’s eyes clouded with burning tears. He gagged. The cloud got into his lungs and made it hard to breath. Jake choked beside him, but was much more used to the effects of this gas. And he knew exactly who was behind it. His mind raced, trying to decipher why killers would be attacking the estate. The obvious answer made his stomach turn. The resounding laugh nearly made him sick. 

Another bottle crashed, this time into Trapper and the grappling Krueger. Trapper grunted as he was struck in the back, stumbling forward and right into another vicious slash from Freddy. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, clown?” Krueger snarled. 

He wretched his arm out, gagging as a hand suddenly shot out and gripped his neck. He was thrown head first into the ground. But before Trapper could fully turn, the Clown had barrelled into him, his butterfly knife flickering in and out of his side. Another bottle broken over Trapper’s head. The Clown laughed in growing triumph and reared the knife back, aiming to plunge it in his skull. 

“You fuckers!” Trapper snarled, his palm going up to block the weapon. The blade sunk straight through his hand. His fingers curled over it, turning it and yanking it free. The Clown screamed as his own knife flashed across his stomach. He grabbed the open wound. 

“You think you can come here and steal what’s mine?!” 

The knife slashed again. More blood pooled out, dripping over the Clown’s pants. He lunged. Trapper side-stepped him and buried the knife in his back. The killer went down. Trapper looked around wildly for Krueger, realizing he was gone. And so was Jake. Trapper cursed, stomping over to a sobbing Dwight and picking him up by the rope knot. 

“Where did he go?” Trapper demanded. 

Dwight weakly nodded in a direction, yelping as he was tossed awkwardly over his shoulder. He broke out in a heavy sprint. Dwight was jolted against his back. He was unable to stop crying. Jake had just been… taken. Krueger picked up a squirming Jake, smiling a bloody smile at Dwight and waving as he ran off, Jake thrashing wildly under his arm. The Clown had gone down only seconds after. They couldn’t be that far behind. Dwight frantically hoped Jake wasn’t already out of the estate. 

Then he heard the saboteur's muffled grunts. 

“Ow! You little shit-!” 

Master tossed Dwight into some tall grass, obscuring him. Then the killer raced towards the sounds of a cursing Krueger. Dwight didn’t move. He pulled his shoulder in the landing. He laid awkwardly, painfully on his back. He heard Krueger cursing. Jake shouted in the middle of it. There was the wet sound of splitting meat. Krueger screamed several slurs. Above it all, Dwight turned his head towards the heavy stomping of boots. He huddled further into the grass in blind terror. The Clown had a slight limp, but he was grinning ear to ear, knife back in hand and bottle at the ready. 

Dwight thanked The Entity when he rushed past his hiding spot and into the fray of the fight. Glass broke. Dwight couldn’t quite escape the reach of the gas. It sunk into his skin and up his nose, making his insides burn. He closed his eyes shut tightly. Tears were dripping uncontrollably, like he’d just rubbed a freshly cut onion on his face. He screamed when hands touched his face. They reared back. 

“It’s me, Dwight,” Jake whispered frantically. There was a manic speed to his words.“Please be quiet. We need to go. I can untie you and we can go. We can escape.”

Dwight stopped squirming. He still couldn’t see, but felt as Jake tugged apart the knots. Knots Dwight would never have had hope of unraveling. When they came free, his stiff and prickling arms wrapped over Jake’s neck. He was rushed to his feet. They barely held him up. Jake, too, was swaying. But there was determined grit in his face. A light in his eyes that Trapper had supposedly extinguished days ago in the basement. 

“We’re getting out of here,” he repeated. His grip on Dwight’s hand was painful. Dwight bared it, focusing on the pain to ignore the fading sound of fighting. His legs regained their feeling quickly. His stumbling turned more into a run. Jake was obviously holding back from sprinting, weaving through the trees. 

“The exit gate is just up ahead. Oh fuck, oh fuck, we’re out of here,” Jake’s voice was bleeding with joy. It made Dwight smile weakly. Jake turned back to look at him, his own lips quirked in a wider, more hopeful grin. “We’re going to see our friends again. I’ll catch you a rabbit. We’ll wear fucking clothes!” He laughed. Dwight laughed too. His bare body prickled with growing excitement. Jake’s enthusiasm was contagious. 

“T-t-th-there it-t is!” Dwight pointed, breathless. Jake turned, beaming, running a little faster. Dwight made himself keep up. His heart hammered harder than it had in a long time. 


Dwight gagged as something yanked the back of his collar. His hand slipped from Jake’s grip. The saboteur stumbled to a halt, turning around with a horrified look. Dwight felt warm arms wrap around his chest. Familiar soft robes flowed gracefully around his trembling legs. 

“I’m sorry I’m so late, baby boy,” Ghostface cooed. Dwight let out a sob as a hand caressed his face. “You were supposed to be in that bedroom. But no matter. As long as I get you in the end. Lucky for me, the old man is busy.” 

“We’re leaving this hell, and you’re not getting in our way!” Jake all but snarled. He charged at the killer, blind to the knife that twirled playfully behind his back. Dwight begged him to stay back. Ghostface laughed and jerked Dwight to the side, the blade catching Jake in the ribs as he tried to swing a fist at that ominous mask. The blade stabbed him several more times as he fell. Dwight was screaming, kicking and sobbing for him to stop. 

“Shh, I ain’t gonna kill him,” Ghostface said, as if that made it all better. Dwight stared in horror at Jake’s crumpled form as he was dragged towards the exit gate. “What’s the fun in sending him right back to Evan? Maybe he’ll escape, hm?” 

Dwight was barely listening. Jake was staring up at him, blood trickling down his chin. But he was getting up. Standing on shaky legs and pushing off the reddened ground with a stumbling leap. Ghostface side-stepped, letting Jake drop after a pitiful attempt to punch him. 

“While this is fun and all, I really should get going. It’d be better if Evan didn’t know I was here.”

Jake lunged, ignoring him in favor of another, fruitless punch. He was kicked harshly in the gut for his troubles. The ground hit the back of his head with a sickening crack. He was blind for several seconds, unseeing as Ghostface loomed over him. Dwight was reaching out, eyes wet and grieving. His struggles were easily manhandled into submission. 

“Say goodbye to your friend, Dwight.”

“N-no! P-p-please, t-t-tak-ke h-him t-t-oo!” Dwight was desperate. 

“Sorry, sweet thing. He ain't my type. Just go to sleep. We’ll be home when you wake up.”

His fingers came up to pinch at the back of his neck. Dwight gave one last struggle, then went limp. Jake kept calling out his name. Ghostface titled his head. 

“Don’t worry, Jakey,” the killer chuckled. “I’ll take real good care of Dwight. If you escape, I’ll even let you know how he’s doing during our trials. I do miss seeing you working on generators. And I really miss burying my knife in your back. So, thanks, I guess. For scratching that itch.”

He twirled his knife, then stabbed it into Jake’s outstretched hand. Jake gave barely a grunt. As Ghostface backed away, he lifted Dwight’s wrist and mockingly made him wave. Jake let out a blood-splattered snarl of rage. The killer laughed at him, head snapping to look somewhere behind the wounded man. 

“Hehe. Good luck. Can’t wait to see how this ends.”

And with that, Ghostface backed away, steps quick and light despite the dead weight in his arms. Jake watched them disappear through the exit gate. It made his anger turn to horror. His adrenaline turned icy, letting him yank the knife free with a terrible numbness. He held the handle, slick and red, in his grasp while trying and failing to stand up. Footsteps were coming. He heard them through the trees, stomping over dead leaves and sticks. He tried to stand again. He wobbled and fell heavily on his side. 

Jake could do nothing but roll into the tall grass, and pray he wasn’t found. 

Chapter Text

Jake held a trembling hand over his mouth. Blood sat heavy in his nose. The pain that ran through his limbs forced him to bite down on his tongue, or risk revealing his location. Whoever was approaching, was approaching fast. Jake saw the flash of dirty overalls soaked red. His lips peeled back in an involuntary sneer. Trapper’s body and flesh was mangled. It looked like a chunk of his neck was missing. And yet, he strode forward without a misstep, his breaths heavy and animal-like under his mask. 

When he noticed the exit gate open and the blood at his feet, he bellowed and charged forward. Jake watched him disappear through the gate. He let out a painful breath and strained his ears. He wasn’t sure if he was alone. If Krueger and The Clown were still around… Jake grit his teeth and steadied himself against a tree. He had to lean his whole body against it to even stand. The knife wounds throbbed in time to his heart beat. But the blood flow was thin, and the cuts were shallow and non-lethal. Jake held onto them as he thought of Ghostface. He thought of Dwight, slumping lifelessly as he was dragged away. 

He’s gone. 

Jake blinked away his beading tears. He pressed hard at his eyes, scrubbing away the grief that kept slipping free. 

He’s gone. He’s alone. I’m alone. I… I have to find him. I have to go. Camp. They can help. The others….

His mind was spinning. He pushed through the foliage and the thinning trees. He fell a few times before reaching the gate. The more he moved, the more used he got to the aching burn of the wounds. He used them as motivation. He’d been through worse. This was a bee-sting, he told himself. 

He limped through the metal gates. Relief should have crashed through him. He should have been elated to have finally made it back home. Back to his woods. But all he felt was his fear growing. He was supposed to be dragging Dwight with him. He was supposed to bundle him up by the fire and hold him close and just bask in the feeling of being free. 

His hand came up to scratch at his collar. The leather was left less scratched up than his neck by the time he tore it off. He threw it viciously in the dirt, not looking back as he tried to break into a run. But his side hurt too much, but despite the pain, he could see the wounds slowly stitching themselves back together. It fucking hurt, and itched like crazy, but the healing helped him walk with a little more vigor.

“David!” Jake started to call out. “Meg! Claude! Laurie!” He stumbled. Blood ran down his chin. He wiped it away with another shout. “F-fuck, Quentin! Quen! Guys! Guys!?”

Jake shoved off another tree. He was starting to worry. He should have seen the fire by now. Why wasn’t he seeing the fire? Jake stopped yelling. His senses came back to him. He stopped yelling and slowed down. He looked around. Really started to look. 

There were orange lines in the earth. They were thin, pulsing like a heartbeat as they wove through tree bark and in the veins of plant life. Jake jumped off the one he was stepping on. It looked like a less intense version of a trial during endgame. 

I don’t think I’m in my forest. 

The fear of the unknown jolted through him. But Jake didn’t turn around. He pushed forward, holding in his groans and keeping vigilant. He had no idea if he was jumping from the frying pan and into the fire. But he wasn’t going back. Not there. Anything was better than the MacMillan Estate. 



He woke up. His head hurt, but that was nothing new. Dwight rolled over and reached out, brows furrowing as he tried to hunt for familiar warm skin. 


He blinked his eyes open, sitting up in shock when he realized he wasn’t in Master’s bed.  

Where am I?

It was some kind of bedroom. No. It was some kind of suite, with a large bed, an open kitchen and a dining table whose broken leg was wrapped in duct tape. There was a window on the far side of the room. The inside was layered with newsprint, keeping out any moonlight. It was only thanks to the sickly artificial light of a floor lamp that he could see. Dwight was in the middle of the bed, wrapped up in the quilted coverlet. Alone. 

He reached up to his neck, immediately noticing that his collar was gone. He felt… even more naked without. He shifted out from under the sheets and set his bare feet to the cold floorboards. He froze, breath catching.  

Photos of himself littered the ground. Dozens of them. Glossy pictures capturing his shame, all in sharp detail - his red face, heavy with fear and want as he sucked on Master’s balls. One of him hiding his face behind his hands, wrists tied with black fabric. Another of him, staring past the lens at something in horror. It made him feel physically ill. 

He tore his gaze away, and towards the door. It was open. 

Dwight gulped. He warred with himself for a few moments before eventually peeking out of the obvious trap. He realized he was in an apartment complex. The room was too homey to be a hotel, though this looked like one. A row of similar doors ran down the length of a red-carpeted hallway. Cobwebs and fog drifted across the empty corridor. There was an elevator layered with yellow tape. The doors were jammed, and from inside, a red light bled out into the hallway. Dwight didn’t like the look of the hellish glow. The other end of the hall had no elevators, but there was a stairwell. Dwight gingerly began to creep towards it.

He refrained from the urge to call out ‘hello?’ The stairs were dark. A cold draft blew around his shoulders, making him shake. Dwight took the first step, then the second. He jumped at the creaking sounds under his feet. But down he went, into the dark and with a grip so hard on the railing, his knuckles turned white. When he was fully in the dark, something caught his ear. 

A tapping sound - metal on metal - climbed up the stairs towards him. Dwight gave the shadows one terror-filled look, then booked it back upstairs. The metal tapping continued, getting louder and quicker despite Dwight’s pounding footsteps. He choked on a sob as he tripped on the last step. He hit the ground hard. 

“N-no!!!” He screamed out, hand up as he saw the gleam of a silver knife. 

A dark shadow swooped over the top of him. Robes flowed across his trembling body. Gloved hands slipped over his skin, exploring with greedy excitement. They wrestled him flat on his back. Dwight finally got a good look at that white mask. 

“Hehe, sorry. I just love seeing you scared. You’re too damned adorable.”

Dwight just stared, still trying to get his erratic breathing under control. He eyed the knife still spinning through gloved fingers. Ghostface snickered and put it away. Dwight still couldn’t quite get his heart rate under control. He gagged a little, bile rising as gloved hands ran over his skin. He knew those hands could kill just as easily as a blade. They stopped at his cheeks, gently holding his head still. 

“Oh come on!” Ghostface teased. “I didn’t scare you that badly, did I? I’m sorry, baby boy. The opportunity was too good to pass up! I didn't think you'd be passed out for so long, I got bored! And you should have seen your face. Hehe. Anyway, I should probably show you around. Get you settled in and all that, huh?  I don't get many guests so I don't know the etiquette.” 

Dwight swallowed thickly and forced himself to nod. He yelped as he was suddenly yanked to his feet, an arm around his shoulders like this killer was an old friend. 

“What? No good morning? Not even a wave,” the killer asked, when the silence stretched on too long. “You can ask questions you know,” the killer added nonchalantly. “I don’t care if you talk, but I like hearing that stutter of yours.”

Dwight gulped, and it took a lot of his energy to even utter the few, measly words. But it was bugging him, not knowing. “N-n-no ch-cha-a-a-ins?”

“Mmmm…” Ghostface paused, tapping his chin in exaggerated thought. That finger suddenly ran down Dwight’s neck, making the poor man jump in surprise. Ghostface grinned devilishly. “I don’t know what I like yet. I’ve never had a pet before. But I do have a few ideas… we’re gonna have to experiment a little. And I’ll for sure have to get you clothes.”

Dwight perked up at that, feeble hope lighting up his eyes. It crumpled when the killer grabbed his hips and pulled him flush to his chest. One hand groped an ass cheek. The other gently rubbed circles around the fresh brand. Dwight hissed at the slight pull of ruined flesh. 

“I’d prefer it if the clothing didn’t cover your cute, little ass. But I want Evan’s ugly mark covered until I can find a way to remove it. I don’t know if killing you would reset you back here, or at Evan’s dump... calm down,” he added, at the plank-like posture Dwight suddenly developed. “I don’t plan on sticking a knife in ya. I already got enough of that from the others in the trials. That got old the hundredth time. I want something more from you, Dwight. And you know exactly what that is. Right?”

The survivor wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical answer. But he nodded nonetheless. His ass was released. He slumped back into the floor, not realizing he’d started to stand on his toes. 

“Such a sweetie.” A thumb dragged across his bottom lip. “Now, where were we… Oh, yeah!” 

Dwight was dragged along with an arm around the waist, feet nearly tangling together. Ghostface hoisted him upright and directed him right back into the room he escaped from. The door shut behind him. Though the click of the lock was soft, Dwight felt it reverberate throughout his whole body. It hit him then. Really hit him. 

I have a different owner now, don’t I?

It made his blood pump and his palms sweat. He heard Ghostface say something beside him, grabbing his arm and tugging him along. Dwight followed. But the buzzing in his head was getting louder. He couldn’t breath. 

Where is Master? I want Master. I… I don’t want to be here.

“-alm down. Hey, you with me?” 

Dwight jerked away from the sudden grip on his chin. Or maybe it’d been there for a moment. He didn’t know. Ghostface jerked him back into place. A hand splayed over his chest. The palm pressed into his beating heart. 

“Poor thing. Go ahead and breathe for me, baby. Can you do that?” 

Dwight was shaking his head. His eyes snapped shut, hot tears welling behind his lids. He was being bad. He was being disobedient. But he couldn’t even open his mouth, or he’d start to sob. He didn’t want to be beat for not following orders, though. So he took a stuttering breath and slowly eased away from the beginnings of hyperventilation, head nodding furiously as if to prove to Ghostface that he was listening. Listening and trying. 

“Good. Nod if you’re okay.”

Dwight nodded, if a bit hesitant. 

“See, Dwightie. You’re alright...” the killer began to move him towards the bed. 

Dwight’s eyes widened. His breath tried to pick back up, right where it left off. A turmoil of emotions hit him all at once. Fear of his real Master’s jealousy. Anxiety over learning how to behave, all over again. Despair in the face of being alone, of not knowing if Jake made it back to the safety of the campfire. 

“Stop shaking,” Ghostface said, easing him down onto the mattress. 

It was softer than Trapper’s bed, but smaller too. Hands eased his shoulders back into the pillow. Dwight still couldn’t keep himself from being so rigged. Ghostface chuckled at that, running light touches up and down his arms. Dwight laid still and let him. After a few minutes, Ghostface pulled off his mask. His cheeks were a bit red from the confinement and his blonde hair was knotted and unruly. 

“I know, I know,” the killer rubbed at his very-normal looking face, as if embarrassed. “I didn’t get any kind of changes like everyone else did. The Entity already thought I looked scary enough as is. What do you think?”

Should he answer? Ghostface was quite a moment, like he expected one. Dwight slowly shook his head. 

“That ain’t a real answer, doll face.”

“I… I-I lik-k-ke it-t-t-t. V-v-very h-h-human.”

A brilliant smile lit up the killer’s face. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dwight’s forehead, crawling over the top of him and into the bed. Dwight froze, terrified that this was it. He was going to have to prove himself to be a good toy. That he didn’t deserve punishment. He let out a tiny whimper, but Ghostface merely wrapped his arms around his chest and pulled him in close, falling onto his own side with a sigh. 

“I ain’t looking to fuck, baby boy. Not right now.” Ghsotface lazily trailed his hand across Dwight’s neck, breath leaving lingering touches on the skin. “I’m exhausted. But don’t worry. I have to lay low for a while after the stunt I pulled. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other. You won’t complain, will you?” And right there, Dwight heard it. The hint of a threat behind the words. The edge of danger he’d been watching for this whole time. He shook his head no , a bit too eagerly. Agreement and compliance were working wonders on keeping him pain-free. At least so far. 

There a chuckle and then covers were pulled over him. Dwight sunk into the warmth, unwillingly squirming closer to the heat furnace that was the killer’s body. Over the light breath on his neck and the push and ease of the killer's chest, Dwight focused on the softness under his fingers and the plushness against his head. He tried not to think of Jake. If he did, he’d cry. And if he’d cry, the killer would wake up. 

Dwight wasn’t sure to feel relieved that he hadn’t been hurt yet, or terrified that something really bad was coming. Ghostface obviously enjoyed scaring him. But would it go any farther than that? Dwight bit his lip. 

No. Don’t think about anything, just… just sleep. Just pretend it’s Jake. 

Thank The Entity that Ghostface was so much smaller than Trapper. Though bigger than Jake, his lithe form and human hands were so much easier to imagine as darker, with rougher palms and a broader reach of his fingers. He imagined Jake having built some shack in the forest. There was a fire. That’s why it’s warm, but he’s half-way asleep so he can’t hear the crack and flicker of each licking flame. 

And Jake is the one stroking chest. He’s the one humming a tune under his breath, and Dwight really has to work to change that voice into a deeper one. 

“Your heart is racing. It gets faster the longer we lay here.”

There was a pause. Dwight’s anxiety spiked, unsure if he should say something or try to calm himself or-

 “Are you scared of me, Dwight? You shouldn’t be.” 

Ghostface shifted and Dwight was turned onto his other side. Lanky legs wrapped around his own. The hand over his chest stayed where it was. Dwight struggled to maintain eye contact with the killer, already tearing up. 

“Oh, baby.” A hand stroked his cheek. “You’re so broken aren’t you? It’s really beautiful, how hollowed out Evan made you.”

Dwight started to shake his head before he realized what he was doing. He stopped, then nodded, as if that would somehow fix whatever he thought he did. He tried to reach up to grab at his spinning head, but Ghostface pinned him. Dwight began to panic and thrash. A second later, all the breath was lost from his lungs as Ghostface straddled the top of him. 

“Hey, listen to me.”

Dwight kept struggling. His heart was going to break his sternum. A hand settled over the top of it, then slid up to cup his face. Dwight opened his bleary eyes. The killer was talking. He stopped struggling, if only to listen to what kind of punishment he was getting. 


Dwight stared at him, confused. 

“I said, if you don’t stop struggling, I’m going to go sleep in another room so I don’t have you keeping me up. But if that happens, I’m restraining you in here. Tightly. Please choose wisely, Dwight.”

He… was getting a choice. And neither choice was even that bad. His heart began to slow. Just a bit. This could still be a trick. Ghostface liked pranks, didn’t he? He seemed the type. But Dwight had no choice, so he nodded. 

“That ain’t picking, sweetheart. Use your voice.”

“I-I-I…” He paused to take a deep breath. “H-h-here.”

“Hehe, yeah. We’ll see,” Ghostface said with a tiny but knowing smirk. He fell back down, and Dwight forced himself to relax as he was gathered back up. “Just go to sleep. Try to, uh, think of puppies and shit. Or count sheep.”

“O-o-k-k-kay…” Dwight mumbled. 

With nothing left to do but obey, he counted sheep - demon sheep with red eyes and stormy fleece - until he dozed off. 

Chapter Text

He silently treaded through the hub. Michael’s eyes were scanning back and forth, dragging through the thick foliage to pin-point a certain survivor. He had escaped into the killer’s hub, and with Trapper throwing a violent fit and the other killers' growing curiosity, Michael’s time was limited. 

Michael paused. There was dried blood, dripping down the base of a tree trunk in the vague shape of a hand print. He strode purposefully past it. The blood became fresher and glossier. He heard muffled groans of pain. Subtle, breathy moans he’d grown familiar and fond of over the years. He stalked silently closer. Inch by inch, enticingly slow, until he saw a naked, bloody survivor curled up behind a bush. 

Jake was resting. A hand covered the worst of several, shallow stab wounds. He was shaking from the cold. His head kept dipping to his chest, then snapping upright, eyes wild as he looked around. He was struggling to stay awake. Michael had seen Laurie like this many times. Paranoid and vigilant, but too tired to be good at it. 

He kept his knife tucked in his belt. His fists uncurled, fingers itching to snatch the survivor up. But he waited and watched. Watched the rise and fall of his chest, his pert nipples and the outline of his ribs. Jake was always wearing so many layers of clothes, he never got a good look at his body. Michael liked what he saw. The more he observed all the little details, the more aroused he got. The survivor was a wounded crow. Lost and unable to fly away. 

Yes. Jake Park was completely vulnerable. Helpless. His. Something of a faint smile twitched behind his mask. The kind of thrill he felt as a child, feeling the warm spurt of blood for the first time and the complete, utter rightness it gave him. But this wasn’t exactly blood lust. 

Michael had observed it in his first sister, with that boy and her hungry lips. The two were on each other like it was something to delight in. As a boy, he didn’t know what they were doing. As an adult, he didn’t understand why so many other humans craved it. His cock had never hardened out of arousal before. And here it was, tenting his jumpsuit like it was straining to break free. 

He palmed at it experimentally. A low growl escaped him as an intense ripple of pleasure followed. Michael tore his hand away. He didn’t want to unravel at his own touch. The ghost’s lewd pictures had given him enough incentive for that. What Michael wanted now, was the real thing. He needed to get his survivor back to the safety of Lampkin Lane. There was a bed there just for them. Michael took the last few steps between them. Silent as the night, Jake never saw him coming. 

He screamed as a hand grabbed his shoulder, the other hoisting around his waist to lift him up. Michael felt a thrill go through him. His fingers dug into the bare flesh, gripping the warmth that was always covered by layers and layers of thick fabric. His cock throbbed with an almost painful need. Jake’s struggling wasn’t helping the matter. Michael held him to his chest and snaked a hand over his throat. The pressure immediately stilled the worst of his thrashing. 

Jake gagged on his own breaths. He didn’t stop fighting though, choking himself to near death when Michael began to walk deeper into the woods. Taking him somewhere, probably a fresh hell not unlike Trapper’s. Jake gurgled curses and threats. He nearly blacked out, but before he did, he heard the cry of an angry crow.

Michael didn’t bother to even look, mistaking the flying crow for one of the Entity’s spies. Not one of Jake’s oldest companions. The talons went straight for his eye holes. The killer gave a surprised grunt as the sharp claws cut mask and skin, retreating just as an arm swung out to snatch the bird. The crow flew straight up, looping around Michael’s head. A thin stream of red ran down one eye hole, stark against the white rubber. A strong beak tried to tunnel itself into the wound. It shrieked as it was successfully struck. Its body cracked against the ground.

Jake managed to kick himself free at the same time, hitting the dirt and scrambling to shaky legs. Michael was grabbing at him. But without clothes, Jake was able to roll away. He grabbed the bundle of broken black feathers, then sprinted through the trees. Twigs and thorns cut at his soles. Angry tears streamed down his face. The pitiful breaths of the crow sounded agonized against his chest. Every step jostled its body. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jake muttered as he ran. 

He could hear the Shape’s footsteps right on his heels. Rushed and loud, very much unlike the killer's usual gait. Jake avoided a grab of his hand by ducking around a tree. His foot slipped. He held the crow out as he hit the ground and rolled down the heavily overgrown slope. His heart turned to ice as he checked over the crow. It stared up at him through one glassy eye, blood dribbling past its beak. 

“Shit, fuck. Okay, just,” Jake cut himself off, looking at the top of the slope where Michael stared at him. It had him running again, wondering faintly if he should have left the crow on the ground. Guilt boiled under the fear. He didn’t know what to do. He was so blind to everything else, he didn’t even see the figure jump out in front of him - a smiling mask with two bloody circles for eyes, and a bandaged hand holding up a knife.

“Gotcha, Park-! Woah, what the fuck!” Frank’s triumph cry turned to one of terror when he realized that Jake was naked. He screamed, both bodies tumbling into each other. The knife didn't connect with flesh. Frank was too busy trying to shove the survivor off of him, blushing fiercely under his mask. 

“Dude, what the fuck are you naked for?!” 

Jake scrambled with the crow in his arms. He nearly crushed the poor thing with his body, and rolled upright, jumping to his feet with little grace. He breathed raggedly, studying Frank, not bothering to hide his shame. Jake had already been wrung completely of his humiliation. 

“Get away from me!” Jake hissed. 

He turned to run, jumping out of his skin as a tall figure in a skull bandana loomed over him. Joey walked forward and Jake stumbled backwards, his body cut and bruised from the fall. It was only then that he noticed the other two Legion on either side of him, knives out, keeping him from escape. 

“Why is he naked?” Joey asked. 

He held the crow tighter to his chest. It hissed at the Legion, but it was weak. 

“I don’t fucking know!” Frank was spouting. “Shit, I don’t want to take him to Evan like this-”

“No!” Jake’s face went white with terror. “Please, don’t! I just escaped!” He was shaking, panicking, trying not to imagine how furious Trapper would be. What he’d do with him groveling at his feet again. “You don’t know what he’s been doing to us!” 

“We shouldn’t be listening to him try and weasel his way out of this,” Julie spoke up, voice firm. “Evan’ll give us months worth of good shit for his head. Did you see how many bottles that fucker had? Frank?”

“Yeah but- but,” Frank sputtered. “Why is he naked?!” 

“Frank, stop being a little bit- oh, shit, behind you!” 

Myer’s knife flashed. Joey had shoved past Jake, catching the knife with his own before it struck Frank. The Legion leader jerked out of the way, reorienting himself before lunging for Michael’s ribs. Susie was already taking stabs at his gut, crying out as an elbow sent her flying into the dirt. The same arm snatched a hold of Joey’s throat when he was close enough. Jake was running into the brush by the time Julie jumped onto the dog pile. He heard her knife squelch into his neck. He turned around for just a moment. His eyes widened. 

Michael was on his knees. Four knives were stabbing in and out of his throat. Blood drenched his body. He tried to shove them off, but a terrible rrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiippppp! tore through the air. Jake turned around just before Michael’s head began to fall off. 

“Oh shit, fuck, fuck.” 

His heart hammered wildly. Tears flooded down his cheeks. He was going back. He was going back to that fucking hell. He lost Dwight. He lost his friends. He gave a sob when he realized that he could no longer feel the breaths of a small chest against his own. Jake fell to his knees. He gave a shaky gasp as he laid the crow gently before him, staring at his own reflection in its dead eyes. 

“No, no, no, no.” He gently touched its head, as if he could rouse it back to life. His tears burned his face. His teeth grit together, trying to hold in his sobs. They burst through though, ragged and shameful. 

“Please, don’t go!” he begged. “I’m sorry- I- I should have- I should have-” his words caught on a choked cry. He buried his palms into his eyes, screaming. Screaming like it might help ease the terrible feelings ripping apart his heart. 

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! OH GOD, I FUCKING HATE YOU!” He threw his head back to scream at the sky. Spittle fell from his lips. He tore at the grass and dirt savagely, throwing it like it might strike The Entity. “GIVE THEM BACK! GIVE THEM BACK! YOU FUCKER, YOU FREAK!"

His words gave way to sobs. He thought he heard something behind him, but Jake refused to move from the crow, or pick it up, out of fear of ruining its body further. 

“Dude… you grab him, I don’t want to.”

“Should we knock him out?”

Jake’s teeth ground together so hard, he thought they might break. He looked over his shoulder, spying the Legion, bloody and wounded, eyeing him from the trees. Frank and Susie were shuffling nervously on their feet. Joey was several steps back. It was Julie who walked towards him, holding out her knife threateningly. 

“Alright, enough crying over some bird,” she said harshly. “Up. We’re taking your bounty.”

Jake didn’t get off his knees. Not even when the tip poked him threateningly in the back of the neck. 

“Do you even know what he wants with me?” Jake asked. 

“No, and I don’t want to know. Now are we doing this the easy way or the hard way?”

“He’s going to rape me.”

Frank made a weird noise. Julie stiffened but hardened her grip on the knife. “Shut up. Get on your feet or I’m dragging you there-”

“He’s going to chain me to his bed,” Jake interrupted. The knife pressed in deeper. “He’s going to brutalize me all because you want to get drunk.”

“Jules…” Frank said uneasily. 

“He’s just getting into our heads,” she snapped. 

Everyone got quiet. Even Julie’s knife lost its edge. Jake kept talking, feeling a desperate hope that he might actually escape. 

“Don’t take me back there. I don’t want to be some fuck-toy for the rest of my existence.”

“Shut up,” Julie broke the tense silence. 

But so did Frank, cutting over her with a slightly higher than normal pitch to his voice. “Woah, okay, maybe we shouldn’t-”

“When did you lose your balls?” Julie asked. 

“Jules, seriously. I don’t know if I can enjoy getting fucked up knowing what’s going on.”

“Aren’t you always going on about how bad ass you are?”

“I’m bad ass but I’m not sick,” Frank said. 


“Jules, no! Okay! No one fucking told us ! I don’t- I… I don’t want to be a part of that, okay! I know it’s stupid or whatever, cause we kill and all that. But like, The Entity isn’t making us… you know... “ Frank shrugged, looking anywhere but at Jake. When Jake only kept staring, he stomped a foot in embarrassed frustration and started to stalk off. “Fuck this weird shit! I don’t want to be a part of the creepo circus!”

“But-” Susie began. 

“Come on, Frank, don’t stomp off!” Julie snapped over her. “How do we really know that’s what Evan wants him for?”

“He branded my fucking ass,” Jake hissed. “I’m naked. Is it not that obvious?”

“Yikes,” Joey backed away, hands up as if he didn’t want to touch something dangerous. “Uh, yeah, I’m not sure how comfy I am with this either. And… Evan does seem the type…”

“Fucking hell,” Julie muttered, running after Frank. “This is why we need to plan things out! Hey, don’t ignore me! Get your ass back here, jerk! Talk to me!”

“Yeah, come on, Sus. We shouldn’t get involved with this mess,” Joey said. “Let’s go.”

Susie didn’t follow him though. She was taking off her hoodie, stepping timidly towards Jake like he might bite her. 

“Sus, come on,” Joey repeated. “What are you doing?”

“He’s naked, Joey,” she said. “I’m not leaving him to just…. I don’t know, be naked out here.”

Jake still looked distrustful, but he eyed the hoodie like it was an enticing piece of food. When he didn’t come close enough to snatch it, she left it on the ground and backed away, hands up. Jake took it with a mumbled thanks. It slipped over his wounds and bruises with a relieved sigh. His bare legs and feet were still painfully numb and the hem of the jacket was too short to cover his junk fully. Jake angrily tried to stretch it further, not wanting to turn away and show his ass either. Joey took pity on him and unzipped his larger, black jacket. 

“Here.” He turned his head fully away, holding it out. “This’ll cover everything.”

“Uh… thanks.” Jake took it, wrestling it on and throwing back Susie her borrowed gift. She caught it, and Joey knew she was flashing him a smile, even with her mask on. He sighed and grabbed her arm. 

“Alright, we helped him out. Let’s go before this gets any weirder.”

And still, Susie didn’t move. She stared at Jake, who stared back with tired eyes. She pointed to the dead crow at his feet. 

“If that’s your friend, you can bury him at Ormond. I’ll help you make a rock grave.”

“Susie,” Joey hissed. “He can’t come back with us! With how Evan was acting about the whole thing, he’ll probably skin us one by one if he found out we had Jake and didn’t give him up.”

Susie ignored him. “You can stay with us. I don’t think the other killers will even think to check there.”

“Susie,” Joey said dangerously. “Stop it.”

“Why?” she asked, turning around, voice harsher than Jake had ever heard it. “So I can leave him here to something worse than the trials? Michael was after him! You know as well as I do that that stalker’ll grab him before the hour is up. Caleb and that scary demon guy are out here too. And I have a sick feeling that they already know what Evan has been using him for."

“I… fucking hell, Sus…” Joey rubbed at his face. “It’s not our problem.”

She stared at him. Her hands had curled into first, and they trembled slightly. Joey seemed to backtrack, holding up his hands. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he began. 

Susie huffed and turned away from him. “Do you want to go with us to Ormond? You can stay with me. I know you don’t have a reason to trust me, but… back in my old life, I would have helped you. I want to make that choice now, here in this world.” She gestured to the crow. “You can grieve in peace too.”

Jake didn’t trust her. But staying here in the forest was a sure death sentence. He nodded stiffly and knelt down to gather the bird in his arms. He cupped its lolling head, as if scared it was uncomfortable. 

“Thanks,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. 

Susie nodded back, turning to shove Joey ahead a few feet. “You’re scary. Give him space. Just follow us, but stay close,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “We aren’t the only others after your bounty…”

“Fucking great,” Jake muttered.

But he kept close, eyes scanning the dark forest for any reaching hands. He was thankful for Joey’s jacket, especially when the winds wicked up, getting colder and blowing flurries of snow in his hair. The trees thinned. Grass became dead and crunched under his bare feet, turning icy.  Jake shivered, wishing for shoes, as he stepped into the chill of Ormond.

Chapter Text

“Are you guys still not talking?” Quentin asked. 

Meg glanced over her shoulder, wiping at her eyes furiously as if she could hide the evidence. She sniffled. “Uh, no. I guess not.”

Quentin padded over and plopped down next to her. She was deep in the woods, far from the fire and deep in the cold. He took off his jacket and spread it on the ground so they could lay back, crown to crown, and stare at the canopy. Meg sighed, her voice shaky, as she tried to relax. 

“Laurie is a jerk.”

“Yeah, I know. Did anything happen?”

“No… it’s just annoying, being ignored. It’s like one mistake means we aren’t friends anymore or something…”

Quentin pursed his lips. “She hasn’t been talking to anyone really… I think we’re all starting to crack under the pressure…”

“Do you think…” Meg trailed off. 

Quentin titled his head back, glancing at her with a curious brow. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s stupid.”

“Meg… you get mad at me when I say stuff like that.”

She sighed. “I know… I just… Do you think The Entity will get bored of us too? I mean, even if we got Jake and Dwight back here, then what? It’s not like we’d even be able to rescue them unless The Entity wanted us to, right? It took Jake from us without a warning. It can do that anytime it wants, with any of us.”

Quentin shook his head. “I know. God, I know that. But it likes to give us hope, too, doesn’t it? It has to give us a win at some point. Maybe… maybe this will be the win.”

Meg let out a soft chuckle. It was watery. “Yeah, maybe. When did you become such an optimist?”

He shrugged. “When you can’t be, I guess.”

“Quen… I’m not giving up… it’s just a bad night is all. I want to keep trying to rescue Jake. I don’t think I’d ever be able to give up on him. I just…” she held a hand to her face. “God, the things he and Dwight must be going through. I can’t get it out of my head! It’s terrorizing me and I’m not even the victim!” 

“It is terrifying,” Quentin agreed. “But we know where they’re at. We’re working our way to rescuing them.”

“It’d be easier if everyone was getting along.”

“Yeah… I’ll try to talk to Laurie.”

Meg sat up. “No, Quen, you don’t. I should talk to her myself.”

“And it’ll end up in another fight,” he argued. 

“She’ll just feel like you’re talking down to her.”

“...yeah… I guess. I don’t know what to do anymore.” He sat up, bumping into her shoulder. “I just want to nap.”

“We can do that. And afterwards, we can try talking to Laurie together.”

“Okay. Thanks, Meg.”

“Thanks, Quentin.”


Dwight woke up alone. It gave him a bit of a shock, his mind scrambling to reorient itself as he took in the still unfamiliar surroundings. It was weird, being in what looked like such an ordinary apartment. It gave Dwight the slightest recollection of his own forgotten home. 

He still didn’t have any clothes. Tucked in the warmth of the blankets, he was uncomfortable getting up anyway. The last time he explored, he nearly died of a heart attack. The door was closed this time. He didn’t bother to check if it was locked, instead noting the digital clock that counted time too fast, and the newspaper clippings about murder hung up on the far wall. A small window into Ghostface's old life, he assumed. 

“H-hello?” Dwight called out. Silence greeted him. Perhaps he was in a trial? 

He tried to lay back down and get more sleep, but it wasn’t long before he heard muffled footsteps. A key jiggled the doorknob. Ghostface, throwing his mask into the room as he entered, was grinning ear to ear. He held something else in his hand, wrapped in burlap and tied off with string. Dwight nervously eyed it, unsure if Ghostface’s elated mood was a good or bad thing for him. 

“Good morning, Dwight!” Ghostface chirped. He tossed the package onto his lap, and Dwight shuddered as he stared down at it. A hand carted through his hair, the killer sliding behind him and onto the bed. 

“What’s that look for, huh? It’s just a gift. I bet Evan got you shit gifts, though. Probably shit for himself, the selfish bastard. But alas, I am a generous Master. Go ahead.”

His arms slid around Dwight’s middle, tucking his back to the killer’s stomach. He waited expectantly, and Dwight had no choice but to take the package in trembling fingers. They couldn’t properly grip the little tie, so Ghostface took his hands in his own, and helped unwrap the paper. Dwight’s face went scarlet. 

“Hehehe, okay, okay, maybe I can be self-indulgent too,” the killer chuckled. “Be honest. What do you think?”

“I-I-I…” Dwight fumbled for anything to say. His gift was leather clothing, folded up and neatly stacked, waiting to be tried on. Ghostface lifted up a short pair of shorts. Dwight gagged on his own spit in shock. 

“That bad?” Ghostface snickered. “What can I say? I have a thing for leather. But I’m not that terrible that you’ll be wearing this all the time…”

He reached into the folds of his robes, and Dwight was shocked to see a folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt thrown onto his lap. 

“This is for when you’re lounging around or doing chores, which I’ll set you up on later. Of course, I don’t mind if you’d rather wear nothing.” 

Teeth nipped at his ear, and though it made Dwight tremble in both embarrassment and slight arousal, his attention was on the clothes. He picked them up. They were soft. And warm. Nothing like the bloody button up and slacks he rarely got to wear. Master only liked him wearing them if he was in the mood to rip them off later. 

“F-for-r-r m-me, r-r-r-really?” Dwight asked. 

There was a kiss on the top of his head. “Yeah, and I’ll get more things for you when I can. We can move some space in the closet for you, not that I wear much else but the robes.”

“W-w-why ar-r-re y-you b-being so nic-ce?”

Ghostface shrugged, making a noncommittal noise. “Don't know. I just kinda want to keep you around like a pet. Give you treats, touch you, capture you doing things on my camera…”

Dwight wasn’t sure how to feel about the situation. Not that it mattered. Whatever was going to happen, would happen. Dwight learned he had no control a long time ago. 

“T-t-thank-k you,” he said, clutching the clothes. “I-I l-love it-t-t.”

“Good. You can try them on later. First, I want to see if this fits.”

Dwight nearly whined when the comfortable lounge wear was taken away. But he obeyed and let go. It was set near the pillows, but Dwight’s attention was on the leather pants. Ghostface was asking him to put them on. 

“Here, I can help,” he said, taking a leg and easing him into it. Dwight shifted, making it easier to slide it on. He didn’t like the snap of the waistband when it finally reached his hips. His cock was crammed uncomfortably too. He sucked in a harsh breath as Ghostface adjusted him down there, giving him a pat. 

“And you know what else will go with it?” 

Dwight had been too nervous to look at other “gifts” he had. He didn’t get the chance, as his glasses were taken. He reached out blindly, scared, but let Ghostface push his arms down. 

“Take a deep breath for me, okay?”

Dwight obeyed, expecting pain. Instead, something slid over the back of his head, and over his face. He panicked, thrashing a moment before Ghostface pinned him with one arm and finished zipping on the leather hood. Dwight kept flailing until he realized there were nostril and mouth holes. He sucked in greedy breaths and made himself calm down. 

“S-sor-r-ry,” he gasped. 

“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so good for me. Follow me off the bed, okay, yeah just like that.” 

Dwight stumbled as his feet touched the floor. He felt even more on edge without his sight, but he let Ghostface push him down to his knees as the killer sat on his armchair. Dwight grasped at his leg. 

“It’s okay, I’m just giving you your second gift. Open that pretty mouth for me and say ahhh.

Dwight opened his mouth. He heard the killer suck in a breath above him. 

“You’re so obedient. I love it. Here, tell me if you like this.”

Something nudged onto his tongue. A pleasant tingle rushed over him, and Dwight’s teeth immediately clamped down on the sweet bit of pineapple. It gushed in his mouth. Ghostface laughed aloud. 

“Woah! Almost took off my finger there.” There was a pause. “Here.”

Dwight swallowed and opened wide. This time he got a strawberry. Then a sliver of a peach. He thanked Ghostface in between each and every bite, relishing in the forgotten taste of fruit. Above him, the killer was rubbing at his growing cock, his bowl of hard earned fruit nearly gone. 

“Last one. Open wide.”

A pitted cherry was bit into, a gloved finger tracing his lip before pulling back. Ghostface exposed his cock to the air and jerked himself a few times as he watched Dwight lick at the remnants of red juice. 

“Good boy. What do you say?”

“Th-thank-k you!” Dwight said, truly grateful.  

“Good. Now ask for my cock.”

Dwight’s near smile fumbled. But he didn’t hesitate, well aware of his purpose. 

“C-can I-I suck-k-k your c-c-cock, p-please?” He begged. 

“Ask again. But this time, call me Danny.”

“Can I-I suck-k your c-cock, D-Danny?”

Danny grinned. “Open wide for me, sweet thing.”

Dwight mimicked eating the fruit. But this time the salty head of the killer’s cock replaced sweet syrup. Precum was already leaking, smearing against his cheek before dipping into his hot mouth. Danny grunted and rubbed his head, holding it in place as his hips gently bucked. Dwight took his cock easily, used to Trapper’s brutalizing thrusts. 

It took no time at all for the killer to unload. He was almost embarrassed, but was too lost in the crashing wave of his orgasm. He held onto Dwight’s head a little too tightly, balls to his chin as he pumped cum down his throat. He pulled out a few seconds after, wanting to watch a few spurts land on his hood. His slave breathed heavily, lips parted, letting him smear the semen around with a thumb. 

“Damn…” Danny leaned closer. “Do you know what you get for doing such a good job?”

Dwight shook his head, mouth gleaming with cum and spit. Danny licked at it, sliding off the chair to kneel by his pet and cup his cock. Dwight whined, pressing into the hand eagerly. He sucked in a harsh breath, as if holding in his moans. 

“What do you want?” Danny asked, kissing his cheek between words. “My mouth or my hand?”

Dwight shook his head. What was that supposed to mean? Like… His thoughts scrambled as Danny’s fingers played along his thighs. A palm pressed dangerously close to his throbbing member. 

“Come on, sweetheart, tell me how you like it. I’ll make you feel so good.”

Dwight lost it. Despite all the arousal and the near painful want to cum, his fear and panic got the best of him. He didn’t want to choose. He got Danny off. That should’ve been the end of it. He was tired. He didn’t want to keep treading unfamiliar waters before a punishment happened. It was just gifts he didn’t understand the intent of. Where was the cutting? The biting? The punching? 

“Shhh… it’s okay.” 

Dwight was smothered by robes. His arms were pinned, and it made him panic more. But he was weak against Danny. Ghostface held him as his body shuddered with scared sobs. There was the pull of a zipper and the mask slipped off. A hand pet at his head. Fingers threaded through his hair, and he muttered something about him needing a bath. Dwight clung to him, trying and failing to stop his crying.  A small, terrified shriek escaped him as he was suddenly hoisted into the air. Danny carried him to the bed, pulling back the covers and sliding under them with him. 

“Shhh…” Danny shushed him again, but Dwight had tired himself out, and merely shivered. “There we go. I guess that was too big a'decision, huh? Sorry, I’ve never taken in a traumatized pet before.”

Dwight nearly burst into tears again. 

“Shhh, calm down. I won’t do anything but hold ya, okay? Then when you’re feeling right, we can talk.”

Dwight burst into tears, his hysterics starting all over again. Above him, Danny tucked his chin against the top of his head and grinned like a cat. His cock throbbed with pleasant post-orgasm tingles. Yeah, Danny wasn’t getting rid of his new prize anytime soon. 

“You’re safe, Dwightie. You’re safe with me.”


He was so angry. Beyond angry. Beyond livid. Evan had spent the last several hours searching the hub, his heart beat rushing through his head. It beat so strongly, it physically hurt. It only fueled his anger. His vision was red, hazing the world around him as he found the realm he was looking for. 

Evan walked under the deep purple sky of Springwood. The dark visage of Badham Preschool rose before him. His clever practical trembled in his iron grip, eyes scouring the dark for a familiar, ugly face. He sneered when he heard the faint click of metal brushing against metal. Freddy Kreuger stood, leaning against the doorframe of the school’s entrance, legs crossed and claws waving like he was greeting an old friend. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Gramps, here for round two, hehe.” Freddy was grinning wide. He hopped off the steps, circling around Trapper like he was a starving wolf. “If you’re lookin’ for your pets, they ain’t here. Little fuckers got away. Shame too, I was lookin’ forward to gettin’ my dick wet.”

Another flash of rage flooded through Evan. He growled, unable to form any coherent words. Freddy’s shit-eating grin stretched wider. 

“You think it was a good idea to come to my realm?” Freddy teased. “Really?”

“You came into my home,” Evan began lowly. “You left a fucking mess back there, and sticking my blade in your throat wasn’t nearly punishment enough, Kreuger. You shouldn’t have fucked with me.”

“Ooooh,” Freddy cackled. “Scary. Come on then, tough guy! Fight me in my domain! I’m gonna enjoy making you beg.” 

Another fiery wave of anger rushed through Evan. He felt whispering in his head. He’d been hearing it since he’d lost his pets. A simmering rage that The Entity had been unable to ignore. The deity purred as that rage burst alive, like gasoline to a fire. It stoked the flames, wanting to see how high they could get, basking in the unfiltered emotions it hadn’t felt in so long. To The Entity, it was like tasting Evan again for the first time - its very first killer. Aggressive. Brutal. Sadistic. A yearning to make others suffer. Those fiery feelings had dimmed over the years as Evan got used to the trials. 

He thinks you’re weak, The Entity whispered, voice growing in Trapper’s head. He’s mocking you. But your anger is a weapon. Feed me. Gorge me on your wrath.

Kreuger was approaching, skipping on his heels like Evan was some helpless victim in a dream. 

Evan growled, frustrated he had to even deal with this shit-stain. ‘Can’t you just tell me where they are?! I’ll do anything!’

Where is the fun in that, my killer? Is it not your fault you lost them? Maybe this will teach you to be more careful with your things.

Evan felt humiliating anger at the chastising tone. The Entity laughed again, intensifying those feelings. Kruger made a confused noise and stopped stalking forward. The veins in Evan’s arm began to glow a dim, angry orange. His muscles, tensed, the light running up the throbbing jugular of his neck. It burned where it touched, and Evan shuddered, using that pain to fuel his anger. The uncertain scowl on Krueger’s face made him charge forward. He wanted to see him toothless and red. 

“Fucking hell!” Kreuger dodged a close cut to his face, Evan running at him faster than he expected. He was quick too, though, and turned to slice three bloody gashes on his back. Trapper only stumbled forward a step before his cleaver was wretching backwards through the air at an inhuman speed. Krueger screamed as his cheek was sliced into. He held the gaping wound, trying to run backwards. 

“What the fuck kind of shit is this?!” Kreuger nearly shrieked. His beady eyes looked briefly to the sky with an unending hatred. “What the fuck is he so special for?! This is my realm! You hear me! Mine!” 

His tantrum was cut off with a blade to his shoulder. Evan ripped it out and went for his ribcage, sending the dreamwalker into the pavement. Krueger turned his hate-filled gaze up to the other killer. He spit a wad of blood at his boots. 

“You’re only able to beat me cause you’re the Entity’s little bitch!” Krueger snarled. “You’re just it’s puppet! A mindless, worthless sack a’shit!”

Evan kicked him and planted a boot against his skull. “Shut up. You’re the one who’s worthless. A spoiled brat used to terrorizing children. A weak excuse for a hunter.” 

“And you’re just a daddy’s boy who's had power over people from a young age. You’re not strong. I had to earn my place here!” 

If his mask wasn’t on, Kruger would have seen the widening of his eyes, and then the venom that narrowed them. He added weight onto Krueger’s head. The man screamed, blood spurting from his tear ducts and down his chin. There was a crack. Krueger screamed, but the pressure wasn’t enough to kill. 

“Fuck, fuck! Stop! What the fuck do you want!” 

“You’re pathetic,” Evan snapped. “Can’t even handle a little pain.”

“I don’t have you’re fucking sex toys!” 

“Then who does?”

“I don’t know!” Crack! “Gah! Ghostface was the one with the plan! Fucker probably took one of em’ when he left me for dead!” 

“Ghostface?” Evan muttered. Of course. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It was stupid of him to have invited the other killer down there in the first place. 

“Yeah, yeah! He came to me with the idea! It was all his! I swear it!” 

Evan cursed, thrusting all his weight down with his heel. Kruger screamed as his skull was caved in. His fingers grasped uselessly in the concrete, metal claws slicing only shallow cuts into Evan’s leg. With another push, the body gave a jerk, and went limp. Evan lifted his foot and flicked the gore away with disgust. He spit on the corpse for good measure. 

“I guess you’re good for something…” he said, turning from the school. 

Evan’s blood boiled as he walked down the street. Ghostface’s realm wasn’t like his or Krueger’s. It wasn’t an area used for trails, and thus, it wasn’t connected to the hub directly. Evan only knew it existed because Ghostface had tried to make friends when he first appeared here. Complaining that his apartment was big and empty and lonely. Evan would find out where those apartments were at. He’d skin every killer alive until he found it. 

Another pulse of pain shot through his veins. And he knew it could only be soothed with blood. 


Philip wrung his hands nervously. He stood in the middle of Coldwind Farms, surrounded by corn stalks and hanging pig carcasses. 

After visiting Pyramid Head, Philip came to the farm. He was greeted to a furious yowling and a chainsaw. He had stood his ground as the weapon reeved wildly around his body. It never touched him though, and the killer backed off with a frustrated grunt, slamming the spinning chains into the dirt. 

“I only want to talk to you, as peers,” Philip spoke just loud enough to be heard over the hum of the engine. “Please. I heard you sympathize with the survivors and I’d like to rescue two of their own.”

And just like that, the Hillbilly had treated him as a friend. If Philip had known the nameless killer was still so human in nature, he would have visited the farms ages ago. But the problems came when Philip found himself without a plan. He didn’t actually believe he’d win any allies. He didn’t think this far ahead. 

The Hillbilly didn’t have anything helpful to offer, but Philip felt better knowing he had some reliable backup if (and when) things got heated. The Hillbilly was incredibly resilient. Though, it would have been nice to spit ball strategy with someone. It was during one of these one-sided conversations, that the Hillbilly perked up in alarm. 

“What’s wrong?” Philip asked, standing with him. He looked where the Hillbilly pointed. A large figure was moving through the stalks. The crunch of heavy footfalls and breaking stalks was followed by a deep, thickly accented voice. 

“Добрый вечер.”

The Hillbilly’s hammer was held up, ready to swing, but Phillip reached over and gently lowered it with his fingers. The Huntress stood before them, her weapon sheathed and her demeanor one of non-threat. 

“Hello,” Philip said, only a tiny bit wary. “Are you here to help?”

There was a curt nod. “Metal head,” she said, butchering the english words. “Он сказал, что вы поможете.” She pointed at Hillbilly. 

Philip nodded back in understanding. “Yes, he sent me here as well. You want to help the survivors then?”

Another nod. “Да.”

“Uh…” He and Hillbilly exchanged a glance. “Okay then… Um, we’re happy to have you!” 

“Спасибо. ты умный.”

Philip wasn’t sure what she said, but her lips had quirked into a grin beneath her mask. He smiled back. Hillbilly grinned too, sensing the ease in the air. He made a guttural noise, gesturing to the Huntress. Another groan escaped him. It sounded like a question. The Huntress hesitated a moment before nodding in agreement. The Hillbilly made a happy noise and ambled towards the farmhouse. 

“He offered you tea cakes. He gave one to me already. The Entity rewards him with them, I think.”

“Торт? это странная вещь, чтобы попросить.”

“Um, we shouldn’t keep him waiting. We can talk further in the kitchen.”

She nodded, walking after him. They found the chainsaw killer in a small kitchenette, with pale yellow wallpaper and a white, rickety table badly in need of a paint job. In the middle of the table was a glass platter. Stale tea cakes were stacked on top of one another. Philip knew they were quite tasteless and was pleased to see The Huntress accept it graciously. She took a bite and nodded, as if it tasted good. The Hillbilly stuffed three into his mouth, then offered Philip another, who shook his head. 

“I think we should start figuring out a plan,” he redirected. “Use our strengths to the best of our advantages. So, what are your strengths?”

“Я сильна.”

Mrawhh !” 

Oh dear. This is going to be harder than I thought. 



The boots were a size too big on him. So were the pants. He’d been forced to tie it off with rope around the waist. But Jake couldn't complain too much. Not when he had clothes again, the wind buffeting against them as he stood by Susie’s side. The rock mound they built sat at their feet. Snow had already filled in the cracks between stone. 

“Thanks again for giving me a spot to bury them,” Jake muttered. He had a beanie on, tucked low over his face and his jacket collar flipped up. Susie, still wearing that creepy mask, nodded. 

“I know they don’t come back… you seemed really broken up about losing him.”


Another beat of silence passed between them. Susie finally knelt down to give a grave a gentle pat. Then she stood, and began padded through the snow, away from the wooden lodge where the other Legion had disappeared into. They hadn’t even given Jake a second glance upon his arrival. Susie took the survivor down a slope towards the ski lifts. There was a control shed there. Inside was a cot, blankets and a glass lamp, like someone had recently slept here. 

“Sometimes one of us needs to cool off,” Susie explained. “It’s hard living with four people in one house, no matter how big it is. You can stay here for now. I’m sorry, it’s not much. There’s supplies to make a fire, and…. uh, I can bring you some beer if you want. We don’t have food.”

Jake almost agreed to a beer. He hadn’t been partial to them in the real world, but getting mildly fucked up wasn’t going to make him feel better. He stared at the cot, wanting to fall into it. 

“No. Thanks, though…” he paused, noticing she was probably going to leave him alone soon. “Um, can I ask, why are you helping me? As in, what are you getting out of this?”

She shrugged, fingers playing with each other. “We were never murderers, at least, not like the rest of the killers. Frank went a little… overboard one night trying to protect us… I don’t think we would have went out of our way to do it again, but The Entity took us, and now we’re here. I kill only because I have to. I’m not being punished for helping you, so… why not?” She cleared her throat, looking at the door. “It’s a sorry excuse for what we’ve done to you, I know.”

Jake looked away too. Frank wasn’t a fun killer to go against. He enjoyed the game too much, not unlike how Feng did - a competition that he needed to win. But he was never outright malicious or cruel. Not like The Doctor or Freddy. Joey and Julie were like The Wraith - mechanical in their execution, doing what the Entity wanted and nothing more. And then there was Susie. 

“Back at the campfire...” Jake began. “We would joke sometimes, about the killers we wanted to escape next trial. You were always one of the top choices. You know where to stab to cause the least amount of pain, and you’ve always given us extra time to open an exit gate. Little things we noticed.” He shrugged. “So thanks for that. I guess.”

Susie was still for a moment. She coughed awkwardly and opened the door. “Um, y-yeah. It’s not that fun to… hurt others… I’ll come back in a few hours, maybe try to find any kind of leftover food we have. Do you need help with the fire?”

“No. Thanks.”

She nodded, the door snapping shut behind her. Jake’s legs gave out beneath him. He fell onto the cot, staring up at the ceiling with a heavy heart and a blank mind. He had escaped. He was relatively safe. He wasn’t in chains…

He closed his eyes to fend off any approaching tears. His guilt was making it difficult. All he could see was Dwight sobbing, reaching out for him as Ghostface whisked him away. His body throbbed, the stab wounds now bandaged. Susie had been more than helpful. Beyond, really. Jake hadn’t realized the extent of her dislike as a killer. 

“I wonder who else feels like that,” Jake wondered aloud. 

If Susie wanted to help, maybe others would want to too. Hope, timid and weak, filled his chest. He knew The Wraith would hold back during trials. Sometimes The Hillbilly, if the four survivors weren’t the kind to taunt and tease. Nea and David could get that killer’s blood pumping badly. But Meg claimed he gave her the hatch one time. No one believed her, and now Jake was starting to think it was true. 

He rolled over onto his side. He couldn’t think about this anymore or his head would explode. Curling up under his blankets, shivering against the cold but feeling too upset to bother with the fire, Jake fell into a restless sleep. 



Susie tried not to feel nervous as she entered the lodge. But of course, as expected, she was pounced on the moment she ducked into the stale warmth. Frank and Joey were leaning on the staircase, Julie sitting on the last step. She stood gracefully when Susie entered, striding up to her while Susie’s shoulders hunched in on themselves. 

“This is a stupid idea,” Julie told her. 

“And you were going to just leave him out there?” Susie asked, voice trying and failing to be level. Any type of reprimand from the Legion made her anxiety shoot through the roof. But right now, she refused to let it overpower her. “We knew what was going to happen to him. I didn’t want to be complicit in that.”

“And yet, here we are,” Frank said, “With Myers probably very aware of who we have, and Evan expecting us to bring him Jake. What’s next, Susie? Have ya thought that far?”

“Stop being a dick,” Joey snapped. “Susie did what she thought was right at the moment. It was a fucked up situation, and honestly, I don’t feel like arguing about morals right now. What happened, happened. What are we gonna do moving forward?”

“The only two options are keep him here, or hand him over,” Julie sighed. “Dammit, Susie.”

“Well, he’s here now!” Susie snapped back. “And he’s not that bad, you know! He’s really nice to me, despite everything I did to him!”

“Fuck’s sake,” Frank groaned. “Susie, this is why I was mad you brought him! I know how you are. You’re gonna get all buddy buddy with the guy, you’ll make a new best friend, and then The Entity is gonna rip it away. Do you really think it’s gonna let Jake stay safe for long? You’re gonna be hurt. Bad.”

Susie stiffened. She hadn’t thought of that. But… it was true, wasn’t it? The Entity could take Jake away whenever it wanted. 

“We’re just looking out for you,” Julie said, softening her voice. “He can rest, then he has to go. He has clothes and he’ll have his wits. Okay?”

Susie shook her head, ripping off her mask so the Legion could see how angry she was.

“Susie. Stop being difficult.”

“You’re all acting like monsters,” Susie spat. 

“We’re being reasonable,” Joey said calmly. “But this realm doesn’t let us reason how we would in the real world. Come on, Sus. You know we’re right.”

Susie’s face was turning red, mostly from a subtle wash of shame and embarrassment. But she still didn’t let it deter her. 

“No! Stop talking down to me like I’m a kid!”


“I was supposed to be a survivor! Would you have left me? Huh?”

Frank rolled his eyes. “No. You weren’t. You’ve always been a part of the Legion.”

“The Entity considered it, Frank,” Susie said, in near tears. 

His eyes widened, then hardened into their usual, confident glint. “You can’t be sure of that-”

“It could still happen!” Susie cut over him, her hands balled into fists. She was shaking, struggling to keep her tears in. “We’ve all been threatened with something, haven’t we?”

“Woah,” Joey interrupted. “You don’t mean that, do you? The Entity isn’t turning you into one of them.”

Susie finally had to turn around, fixing her mask back on her face.

“If I don’t kill them, or do enough sacrifices, it’ll give me dreams. Of what it’d be like, to be hunted by… to not be a part of the Legion anymore.”

“Susie…” Julie reached out, as if to take her hand. Susie took a step back. 

“I’m helping him. He doesn’t deserve to be tossed around like a toy. It’s sickening to watch.”

“Fuck’s sake…” Frank muttered. “Why didn’t you tell us this?”

“What difference would it have made?”

The Legion became quiet, a heavy blanket of uncertainty washing through the group. They had never had the threat of separation before. The Entity had always referred to them as one. 

“Alright… fine. As long as The Entity isn’t threatening us…” Frank sat up a little straighter. “Then we can keep crow boy around. But you’re in charge of him.”

Susie nodded. “Thanks, Frank.”

“Yeah, yeah, just… you’ll come to one of us if that spider bitch gives you anymore dreams, okay? That doesn't sit well with me, knowing you’ve been going through that shit alone.” 

He grunted as she suddenly was on him, wrapping him in a hug. He hugged her back with a roll of his eyes, trying not to seem as affected by her confession as he was. 

“Even if you did become a survivor, we’d make sure you had the hatch every time,” Frank added. “And we’d teach all the other killers to do the same.”

Susie just gave a shaky breath. They didn’t need to know that it had already happened. That the Legion hadn’t even recognized her. That they had taunted her, thinking she was lying. Or that the survivors became friends to her, then forgot who she was, when she was forced to murder them again. She didn’t tell them any of this. She just held Frank a little tighter, the terrible memories shaking her to her core. A tiny, forced laugh escaped her as Julie and Joey joined the hug. 

“I know you would,” Susie said. “I know.”

Chapter Text

Jake hated the shed. It was tiny and cold and lonely. He spent the first day there, crying for his family at the campfire and for Dwight, who didn’t get a second shot at freedom. 

Jake spent the next day angry and frustrated. Susie had tried to visit a few times, but he’d snapped at her and barricaded the door so no one could get through. She hadn’t bothered forcing her way in, and told him to take as much time as he needed. Jake threw a chair at the wall, in confused frustration, feeling even worse when he broke a hole through the thin metal. Cold air blew in, snow flurries already stacking along the ground. Jake stared at it, fists clenched and trembling at his sides. 

“I need to get the fuck out of here and find the campfire,” Jake decided. “It has to be here. If I keep walking…” 

He planned on ditching The Legion. The other three were no help anyway. He at least had clothes and boots. The snow crunched under them as he snuck out the door and towards the woods. He didn’t have to sneak. He doubted anyone would stop him. But he paused as he caught sight of bright hair above the crest of the slope. Susie was standing over the grave. Jake drew closer, realizing she had collected some wilted, brittle flowers to lay on it. 

“Hey. What are you doing?”

Susie jumped, turning around with nervous fingers. “Oh, you scared me. Uh, nothing. Just clearing the snow. If you don’t do it everyday, the grave will get covered.”

Jake didn’t know what to say. “...thanks.”

“Yeah. So, anyway, I think we should get your fire set up-”

“Why are you doing that?”


Jake gestured to the rocks. He didn't know why his voice came out as bitter as it did. “That. Taking care of a dead bird.”

“Well,” Susie seemed to fumble for her words. “You seem very close to them. And death doesn’t happen all that often… I don’t know,” she shrugged helplessly. “Do you not want me to take care of the grave?”

He shook his head. But his voice was slightly wary. “No, no. I appreciate that. I’ve never really had to deal with one of the crows dying before. Not any that I was close with… He gave me the chance to escape from Myers…”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Silence stretched between them, awkward and thick. Jake broke it, coughing into his hand. “Um, actually, maybe I would like help with the fire.”

Susie seemed to light up, even from under her mask. “Of course. Come on, I’ll show you how to do it. It’s easy.”

Jake gave the edge of the forest another glance. A shiver crept up his spine, and he was suddenly very happy he didn’t leave. It felt like something was watching him, just outside the territory. He ran to catch up with Susie. 



Philip was watching through the back window of the farmhouse. Anna was heaving her hatchets across the open field and into hastily-made targets. Her deadly precision was met with whooping from the Hillbilly, standing beside her in great interest. The two had gotten close very quickly, and had become more interested in hanging out than helping Philip. He sighed and turned away from the third perfect hatchet throw in the row. 

They’d gone out there after Philip had tried (and failed miserably) to discuss his want for a search party. Both for the whereabouts of the survivors and any other killers who might be of assistance. Just hours ago, The Wraith had thought he’d earned a stroke of luck with his new allies. Now, he realized he was going to have to venture out alone. Yet again. 

The killer barely got outside before The Hillbilly suddenly gave a loud yowl. His chainsaw revved up, and Philip jumped out of his skin as he came charging around the corner, screaming gibberish. He rushed right past The Wraith towards the nearest exit gate. Philip followed, Anna on his heels, her axe at the ready. But when they reached the gate, the Hillbilly had his chainsaw, unmoving, at his side.

“металлический человек?”

“Pyramid Head?” Philip said at the same time. He paused, blinking in surprise at the state of the killer. 

Pyramid head was leaning heavily against the frame of the gate, his right arm completely cut off. Blood sluggishly leaked from it. He was limping, moving in a lop-sided gait. Philip finally snapped to his senses and ran over. But Pyramid Head shoved any helping hands away, groaning in that ominous way of his as he pointed at the ground. Philip wasn’t sure what he was asking, but the killer dropped to his bloody knees, using his finger to draw in the dirt. It was a familiar symbol. Behind him, The Hillbilly was asking incoherent questions. 

“It's a bear trap…” Philip said, as if he knew what he was being asked. “Evan did this to you?” 

The giant metal casing gave a nod, creaking wearily. The killer slumped on his left side, more blood gushing free from his stump. Philip tried to tear off some wrapping from his arm to help staunch the flow, but was again, pushed away. Pyramid Head kept drawing in the dirt. It was hard to make out. An arrow pointed to the bear trap.

“Um, do you know why he did this? Did something happen?”

Another head shake. Pyramid Head drew another arrow, this time towards the exit gate. Then he pointed to the bear trap, then to the cornfield. 

“Охотник идет сюда,” Anna said, lifting her axe. 

“Is he coming here?” Philip asked. He earned a nod.

Pyramid Head drew some more shapes. A set of claws. A bottle. A pyramid. He crossed them all out, then drew a poor-looking chainsaw, indicating his next target. 

“He’s… hurting other killers?” Philip asked. “Why?” 

The Hillbilly made an uncomfortable noise, shuffling on his feet. Pyramid Head drew some more lines, but The Wraith couldn’t make heads or tails or it. Anna tried to be helpful, but her English was too hard to understand in between her Russian. He grabbed at his head, overwhelmed. The other three killers suddenly became quiet. At first, Philip thought it was for his benefit. But then he looked up to see a hulking figure standing beyond the exit gate - Evan MacMillian. 

The chainsaw roared again. Anna raised a throwing hatchet, both of them stilling as if waiting for the command to attack. But Evan didn’t even have his weapon out. He was laughing, his shoulders shaking as he stepped into the farm’s territory. Pyramid Head was watching quietly, probably on his way to death, as Evan stepped right over him. Philip got between him and his two allies. If he could keep this from turning into a fight, he would. Something was obviously not right. 

“What is this? Are you having a tea party with your friends?” Trapper asked, voice cruel and mocking. The same way it was when Evan was having a bad day and wanted to take it out on someone else. Philip frowned. There was an aura about him… something dark and powerful, not unlike the presence of The Entity in one’s head. Evan’s limbs were faintly glowing. 

“What happened? Why are you attacking other killers?” Philip demanded. 

“You didn’t hear? Some fuckers tried to get to my pets, and now I’m out here looking for them,” Trapper paused, looking the group over. “You didn’t answer my question. What is this?”

Maybe a fight was inevitable. Philip knew he couldn’t lie his way through this. “I’m not the only one who’s sick of seeing you treat them like dogs. The survivors aren’t our toys.”

“Ha!” Evan barked out a harsh laugh. “So it’s like a little rescue party? That’s adorable. Are you going to set up a survivor adoption center afterwards? Give them all good, loving homes? You really are a saint, Philip. Doing the lord’s fucking work!” 

“просто спросите меня, и я разобью ему голову в,” Anna growled. Philip saw her raise her hatchet and held out a hand. 

“No! No fighting, we’re not stooping to his level,” Philip said. 

This gave Evan another laugh. “Says the murderer to the murderer. You really are pathetic, Phil. You’re not going to satisfy your hero complex trying to save maggots.”

“They are humans,” Philip stated, refusing to take the bait and argue. He saw the Hillbilly’s fingers itching to start his saw. He raised his voice. “And we’re not going to fight you. So you can turn around and leave, right back the way you came.”

“And what if I fought you, huh?” Evan goaded. “You’d just let me kill you? Or did Tin Head here tell you about The Entity’s gift it gave me?” 

“Gift?” Philip asked warily. 

He didn’t know why he asked. Evan had the same glow in his limbs they got when The Entity bloomed those putrid flowers and injected them with its surplus power. Philip hated that part of the year. It always made him enjoy killing a little bit more. And now Evan was here, practically soaking in that same energy. It scared him. 

“I can kill you in your realm. I can kill you and your delusional friends here too. Don’t you get it? I’m going to find my miserable dogs, take them home, and then slaughter anyone who got in my way ten times over.”

“I’ll never stop trying to free them,” Philip said, standing his ground. 

Evan was silent for a few seconds. He snorted. “You’re not even worth my time… you or your laughable army. I almost want to see what it is you plan on doing about me. It’ll probably give me a good laugh.”

“The Entity is favoring you right now, but it’ll get bored and move on eventually. But I’ll never tire of helping the survivors.”

“Okay, now you’re starting to just get annoying,” Evan said. He finally withdrew his cleaver. Anna and the Hillbilly tensed, ready to pounce. 

“No. We’re not fighting him,” Philip ordered. His only two allies looked at him like he was crazy. He feared they’d defy his wishes, and was surprisingly relieved to see them back off. 

“Good dogs,” Evan taunted them. Anna’s hackles immediately raised, but the insult seemed to really set off the Hillbilly. He roared and his chainsaw came to life over his head. Philip jumped in front of him. 

“He’s goading you on,” Philip said. “He’s not worth it. We’re not fighting him. You’re not a dog for listening to me. You’re just being my friend.”

Evan laughed. The Hillbilly seemed to calm down though, and he stepped back beside Anna. Philip thanked them both and turned back to Trapper. 

“You can leave now.”

“Not until you learned your lesson, Philly-boy.”

Philip sneered at the nickname. “What lesson?” 

“You want to come near my pets. That’s not something I need floating around in your head.” 

Philip tried no to flinch as the blade came close to his face. He didn’t touch his own weapon. And every time the other killers looked ready to intervene, he told them to stay put. 

“Go ahead and give me your punishment,” Philip said, chin held high. “If it means you’ll leave us alone.”

This seemed to piss Evan off. He gave a grunt as he swung, excess power of the cleaver's blunt end smashing into Philip’s head. His body crashed into the dirt. He held his face, more stunned than in pain. A heavy boot kicked him onto his back. 

“Don’t!” Philip shouted. Anna had raised her axe. “Let him throw his tantrum. We’re not fighting him.”

Another kick to his face had him curling him, trying and failing to block the blows to his head. Evan kept at it for a few minutes, cursing Philip and calling him a pathetic excuse for a killer. When he was done, he spit on him. 

“I’m letting you off easy. If I have to come back, your friends are gonna join you in your punishment.”

Philip didn’t answer. His head was ringing. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to see properly if he tried to look up. When he did, the world titled and spun. 

“Keep playing pretend with your rescue buddies and I’ll come back.” Evan said, leaning over him, mask looming over him like a wolf. “Pathetic waste of my time.” He gave him another kick to the head. 

“Достаточно!” Anna growled. “Leave!” 

“Don’t order me around, princess,” Evan growled right back. “Consider this a mercy. Don’t come near my things.”

With that, Evan turned and talked towards the exit gate. Philip sagged into the ground, looking at Pyramid Head’s still body and idly wondering when it’d be taken away. He didn’t like corpses. 


Philip dazedly looked up at the hand extended out to him. Anna was kneeling beside him. He took the hand, still feeling like he was lost in a fog. His body ached as he stood. He wondered faintly if it’d be easier to get Anna to kill him so he’d start fresh. He hated receiving pain as much as he hated giving it. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. 

“Welcome. Ты сильный человек.”

Philip could only nod. His head pulsed with pain. He wanted to lie down. “Okay, thanks. We should talk after I… I wish he’d killed me. I think I have a head injury.”

“I kill?” she asked. 

The Hillbilly gave a startled noise, and shook his head. 

“Ah, no,” Anna said. “он сильно пострадал. Reset.”

The Hillbilly shook his head again. Philip was looking where Pyramid Head had been. His body was gone. Blood began to leak from his mouth. It was strong. Nauseatingly so. 

“It’s okay, Hillbilly,” Philip said, hating he had no real name for him. “I’ll just wake up in my realm. I’ll come back, okay? I’m hurting now, but then I’ll feel better. Go… throw hatchets until I get back.”

The Hillbilly didn’t say anything, but he didn’t protest. So Philip nodded at Anna. “Make it quick.”

She nodded back. “Да.”

Her axe lifted with practiced grace and flung down, hard. Philip closed his eyes. Right before he died, he felt his chest give a faint tug. Someone had trespassed into AutoHaven. 



The next few days for Danny were both frustrating and the most fun he had in ages. Dwight was obviously scarred from whatever Big, Dumb, and Ugly did to him. It made things like conversation incredibly difficult, not that Danny didn’t try. Asking Dwight for any kind of sexual favor, however, gave him complete and utter obedience. 

Dwight’s face would fall into a relaxed mask when he was busy sucking Danny’s cock or using his hand. Danny didn’t want to fuck him quite yet. He wanted Dwight to come to him, to ask for it. It made Danny salivate, thinking of Dwight willingly betraying his old owner in favor of his new one. Presenting himself without a care in the world for Evan. It’d probably give the brute a stroke if he heard about it. 

But that seemed a ways off. Dwight was too hung up on Trapper still, and probably would be for some time. And then there was that pesky saboteur. When Danny wanted sleep and curled up with Dwight wrapped in his arms, he’d be woken from pleasant dreams by incessant mumbling. His pet was almost always asking for Jake. Jake this, and Jake that. 

“J-jake!” Dwight was on the verge of tears, face scrunched and hands curling over Danny’s constricting arms. He was lost in dreamland. “C-come back-k-k! P-p-please!” 

Danny grumbled. He had to wrap his legs around Dwight’s to keep him from kicking out. He peppered some kisses on his cheek, whispering in his ear that it was time to wake up. If Dwight wanted to be loud, he could at least take care of the erection his squirming had caused. Danny almost wished he hadn’t given Dwight proper clothes. His pet had loved them, and begged to wear them as pajamas. Now, they were just in the way. 

“Dwightie,” Danny whispered. “Come on, baby boy, wake up for me. You’re having a bad dream.”

“Wha…” Dwight blinked owlishly up at him. Danny couldn’t resist planting a kiss on his forehead. 

“That’s it, wake up. I think we need to tire you out a little, don’t you think?”

“N-no, I-I’m ok-kay,” Dwight said, waking up a little more. 

“I don’t know~” Danny said, flipping him over so they faced each other. “You said that last night, baby boy and I didn’t get a wink of sleep. Why don’t you let me help you out?”

Dwight was frozen stiff, so Danny started to massage down his legs and languidly lick at his jawline. The more the anxious body began to relax under his ministrations, the harder Danny got. He smirked as he felt Dwight’s cock give its own curious throb, half-hard from his fingers alone. When Dwight gave a low breathy moan, Danny had to pause. 

“Oh shit, baby, that was hot. Can you do that again for me?” 

Dwight’s bright red face shook back and forth. The ex-survivor hadn’t noticed, but he’d been subtle refusing things the last few days. Danny smirked. He liked doing things the hard way anyway, and lowered his head to nip at one of Dwight’s nipples. His pet gasped. He started to suck and bite, being gentle as he worked Dwight up. He doubted that Evan ever explored his pet’s body and found out what made him feel good. It was always take, take, take with that man, wasn’t it? 

His hands kept working their way up and down his thighs, never touching his dick but getting it hard all the same. Dwight bit his lip. More moans were slipping free and he was thrusting slightly towards Danny’s elusive hands. He chuckled. 

“Hehehe, does it feel that good?” 

Dwight didn’t respond for a few seconds, but then he gave a hesitant nod. Danny nearly purred. His mouth latched onto the unabused nipple, while he slipped his hands under Dwight’s sweatpants to grasp at sweat-slicked skin. Dwight’s body jerked. His moans were getting louder, turning into near sobs as Danny massaged his balls and slowly stroked his shaft. 

“Oh~” Dwight seemed to be fumbling for something to say. Danny slowed down, letting him simmer in the pleasure and regain his thoughts. His mouth trailed kisses up his chest and back to his face, where he blew a warm breath in his ear. 

“Ask me to get you off.”

“W-wha-” Dwight’s eyes blinked open, fuzzy and disoriented. “I-I d-d-”

“No, no, no” Danny grabbed his mouth in a kiss. He sucked on his bottom lip until Dwight lost the anxious look in his eyes. “Ask me to get you off.”

Dwight could only nod. Danny mentally shrugged, realizing that was all he was getting tonight. 

“I got you, baby boy,” he said. He tugged Dwight’s waistband down. His hot skin, exposed to the cold air, suddenly came alive with goosebumps. Danny worked his fingers over the flesh before grabbing his cock again. Dwight was humping into his hand, covering his own face, mortified by his actions. Danny grabbed his wrists, revealing tear-filled eyes and wobbling lips. 

“Don’t cry. You’re doing so well,” Danny kissed him again. “It’s supposed to feel good, okay? If you can, relax and enjoy it. I’ll take care of you.”

Dwight nodded, near frantic, as if afraid he was doing something wrong. Danny locked his lips in a kiss and explored his mouth with an eager tongue, his hands working up and down his throbbing cock faster and faster. 

“Good boy,” Danny said, Dwight’s breath getting heavy. And then he decided to try out something else that gave him his own slight embarrassment. “Cum for me, cum for Daddy.”

"Ah~ Ah~ Th-thank-k you!" Dwight gave a gasp and came. "T-thank you, D-daddy!" 

Uh oh, Danny nearly came himself. I'm defiantly making him say that again...

“You did such a good job,” Danny cooed. He reached under the covers to yank off the soiled sweatpants, hushing Dwight's small whine. “It’s okay. You can keep the shirt on, but I have to clean it tomorrow. Here-” 

He wiped away the excess cum with the pants and tossed them off the bed. He’d slept in way worse than a bit of stale semen, and wrapped his arms around Dwight to tug him close. His pet was looking up at him, cloudy eyed and dazed. Danny’s own cock was still hard. That look wasn’t helping things, but the killer felt like he’d won Dwight over a bit. He didn’t want to fuck that up with his impulsiveness. It was the one thing he’d been struggling to control since getting the ex-survivor.  

“T-that f-f-felt-t g-good,” Dwight mumbled into his chest. 

“You only have to ask,” Danny told him. “If you ever want me to make you feel good again, I’ll never say no…” 

There was a beat of silence. Then Dwight merely gave a nod. Danny acknowledged it by stroking the back of his head, lulling him to sleep. The killer stayed up to listen to his even breaths. That night, Dwight didn’t have any more dreams of pesky saboteurs. 



Susie had promised to speak to the other Legion about letting Jake in the main lodge. They had discussed finding the survivor's campfire, but Susie explained that the killers didn’t have access to it. Not even visually. 

“Maybe I can convince the others to help…” Susie had sighed. “Let me talk to Joey. He might budge…”

"I mean, if you think it'd help."

And that’s how Jake was left alone in the control shed. He had a tiny fire going in the stove, sitting on the ground while he finished patching up the hole he made in the wall. All they found was a few shitty wooden planks. When the last one kept falling off, Jake kicked it and stalked over to the fire. He rolled his eyes when he heard the second plank fall off too. At least he had a little bit of warmth. 

Fuck, I hope those assholes help us… This is hopeless no matter what, though, isn’t it….

Jake knew he was starting to spiral down a path of bad thoughts. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. It was a relief when he heard footsteps crunching through the snow, just outside the door. He stood up, going to greet Susie, and praying she had good news. 

“What did they say-” 

He turned the knob, words catching in his throat as the door opened. It wasn’t Susie. Jake fell onto his ass, ducking under the grab of a broad hand. Michael stepped into the shed. Jake could only crawl backwards, eyes widely looking for escape as the killer kicked the door shut behind him. Jake eyed the hole in the wall, near the ground and well out of his reach. 

Fuck, I’m trapped!

Myers stalked towards him in three steps. Jake was on his feet, trying to run around him. He was scooped up around the waist, back pushed into the wall. Myer’s huge body pressed into him, holding his feet inches off the ground. They kicked out uselessly as a hand wrapped over his neck. It squeezed. Jake froze, staring at the terrifying white mask of Laurie’s brother. But the grip didn’t stop squeezing. It got harder, cutting off his air flow completely. Jake struggled, gagging as his head became lighter. He realized he was going to be knocked out and carried away. Then he’d no chance to escape. His desperate mind tried to think of something, anything, to give him more time. Susie would be back. Maybe with the others. They’d killed him before, they could do it again…

Jake's hand went downward, grasping blindly at Myer’s overalls. He felt shame flood him when he found what he was looking for, fingers wrapping around the outline of Michael’s cock. He gave it a few tugs. Michael’s body twitched. The hand around his neck loosened the tiniest bit. Jake was lowered, giving him better access to the killer’s crotch. 

“This is what you want…” Jake said carefully, eyeing the killer’s mask. “I’ll give you what you want, just… don’t hurt me and I'll be good.”

The hand didn’t leave his neck. But Myers did unzip his overalls. His cock bobbed free, and Jake was momentarily stunned. He was way thicker than Trapper. It was kind of terrifying. He wiped the grimace off his face as he touched the hot flesh. His fingers elicited a gasp from Myers - a soft, hushed sound beneath his mask. The hand on his neck tightened too. Jake needed it off of him. He tried to tug his head forward, but Myers wouldn’t let him. 

“My mouth will feel better than my hands,” he said.

Michael seemed to consider this for a moment. His breath was heavy, filling the tension in the room. He finally let go, hand hovering, and Jake leaned forward. The cock was heavy. His kissed and licked the head, trying to judge how sensitive Myer's was. When he didn't get anything but more heavy breathing, he suck it in fully. The shaft stretched his lips almost painfully wide. He couldn’t even imagine it fucking him from behind. Michael groaned, and shoved it in further. The hand came back to settle on his head. But it wasn’t gripping. Just keeping him in place. Jake let the hand bob his head back and forth, all the while eyeing the hole in the wall. His heart raced wildly as he prepared to make a dash for it. 

Wait for it. Wait for it. 

He pulled his head back, drawing in tongue under the shaft and lightly scraping the head with his teeth. Michael moaned again, head lifting towards the ceiling. His fingers ran through Jake’s hair, as if praising him. No longer held in place, the survivor made a run of it, right through Michael's legs. Jake didn’t see anything but the hole. He half-sprinted, half-crawled to it, over the fallen planks and throwing himself through the jagged opening. His jacket sleeve tore against the sharp metal. Cold wind whipped at his face. He was out! He was-


Snow crammed under his nails as he clawed at the ground. Michael had him by the hem of his pants. But with a kick, the fabric ripped apart, and Jake tumbled free, stumbling into a sprint towards the lodge. He heard Michael running back towards the doorway and forced himself to go a little faster. The few precious seconds could very well keep him free. 

“Susie!” He shouted. “Myers is here!” 

He rounded the building edge, trying to climb up to railing and onto the porch. He saw Michael several yards away, striding quickly behind him. Jake grit his teeth and pushed up the rest of the post, making a mad dash for the front doors. He threw one open and pressed his back against it to slam it shut. When he saw what greeted him in the main hall, he nearly ran back into the cold. 

“Oh fuck.”

Trapper was holding Frank up by the throat, pinning him to the wall and holding a cleaver out at Julie. Susie was cradling a wounded Joey, the tear in his gut weeping blood all over the floorboards. Evan was breathing erratically, his mask now pointed towards Jake like a hawk spotting a mouse. His cleaver flicked towards the glowering survivor. 

“Don’t fucking move, mutt. You run off, you’re just avoiding the inevitable.”

Jake felt a low growl leave his throat. Some kind of inhuman, wild fear making him feel like a caged beast. He wanted to curse his luck, The Entity, anything! It wasn't fair!

“Jake, get out of here!” Susie yelled. 

“If Evan wants him, let him have him,” Julie snapped. “He’s too much fucking trouble! Just let Frank go and leave us alone. He’s here, so take him!”

“No.” Evan snarled. “You whelps need to be punished too, for defying me.”

Jake eyed the orange veins in Trapper’s limbs with horror, watching as they glowed brightly before giving Frank’s neck a sharp squeeze. A bone snapped. The body of the Legion leader slumped lifelessly to the ground. Julie screamed and charged at Evan, earning herself a cleaver to the arm. Her knife clattered at her feet. A splatter of blood followed as Evan cut into her shoulder. Jake watched in mortification, lips twisted in disgust as Julie was hacked apart. She screamed, not in pain or fear, but wild indignation and rage. Jake wanted to leave. But the doors gave a thud! from behind. 

Trapper’s head snapped up. He threw Julie to the side, still barely clinging to life, and stalked towards Jake. Joey fell, dead, to the ground from his wound. Susie jumped onto Trapper’s back and tried to stab at him in the same frenzied way they did to Michael. Trapper reached back to grab her by her hair, throwing her off. At the same time, Jake fell onto his hands and knees, the doors kicking open and a draft of cold air running over his back. 

“What do you think you’re doing here, Myers?” Trapper asked, savagely charging at the other killer. “I don’t need a fucking scavenger following me around.”

Jake scurried to the side, with nowhere to go but the broken staircase, the fighting bodies deliberately blocking his escape route. Susie crawled over to him, just as Myers began to grapple with Trapper’s weapon, his own taking swings at an unprotected gut. 

“I’m t-trapped,” Jake stuttered, watching the blood fly. His anger had fizzled out. He felt like crying. It was hopeless. “I'm fucked.” 

Susie was tugging at his arm. She’d been speaking. Jake’s hearing seemed to suddenly click into place, catching the last of Susie’s soft, but rushed words. 

“-behind me. Before Evan notices, he won’t see us.”

Jake just nodded dumbly. Her grip was firm, leading him off the steps and behind the stairwell, where the walls met. Susie’s hand followed the lines of the carvings in the wood. Depictions of snow-filled forests and skiing tourists. Susie's hands pressed against it. A small square entrance, near seamlessly hidden, swung open. Susie nearly shoved him inside, following after and enclosing them both in inky blackness. 

“Shh,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s storage space. Be quiet and follow me. We can sneak out the other end and make a run for it.”

Jake nodded and let her lead him through the stacked boxes and old ski equipment. He’d taught the other survivors how to control themselves when working through physical pain. But this was something else, something mental. It was something harder to grapple with, and he was forced to clamp a hand over his mouth to stifle his shaky breaths. They sounded like alarm bells to his ears. His heartbeat was even louder. 

“As soon as I open the door, we need to run for the forest, okay?” Susie whispered. 

“Okay,” Jake said breathlessly. “Where are we going to go?”

“... away from here.”

That didn’t sound like a good plan. Jake bit his lip to keep from complaining though. When Susie pushed open the little exit on the other side of the stairwell, they ran. Because what else could they do? He’d just keep on running and hiding until The Entity got bored and whisked him off to a new hell. There was no winning. Susie was just uselessly putting herself in harm’s way. Jake almost wanted to just drop to his knees and end the game right then. Susie tugged him out of the lodge and into the cold, the sound of fighting never ceasing behind them. He nearly fell face first into the snow before they reached the thick of the forest. 

“He’s just going to torture you,” Jake finally said. 

“Come on, we can’t slow down,” Susie ignored him, pulling fiercely at his hand. 

“He’s going to get to me eventually,” Jake pulled back a little, raising his voice. “Why are you even helping me?”

“I already told you-”

“Bullshit,” Jake snapped. He finally got his hand loose, looking back over to the lodge. No one had come out yet. “I can’t even escape with death. The creature keeping us here is only letting me run around because it wants to! It could reach out and pull me into the ground right now. It did that to Dwight. It just… it took him just as he was getting comfortable being free!”

Unshed tears were stinging his eyes. Susie was reaching out but not touching him, obviously wanting him to keep moving. 

“Jake, please-”

“I can’t take it anymore! The waiting around! I know I’m going to be taken again, so why am I running? Why bother trying to stop the devil?”

“Jake, come on, we can talk later! If we don’t go now, Evan will kill me and then you’ll never know for sure. What if The Entity is treating this like a trial? What if you successfully escape? What if it rewards you?”

Jake looked torn. Really, he just wanted to vanish from existence. To be at peace. But that was never going to happen. He buried a hand over his eyes, failing to keep in a shaky sob. 

“I don’t think I can keep fighting anymore,” he confessed. 

“I’ll fight with you, I know the hub. You won’t be alone.”

“Even if I escaped, you’d go back to killing me. I’d go back to being killed… Neither of us can outrun our roles.”

Susie was quiet for a few seconds, at a loss of how to counter him. She sighed and grabbed his arm. Jake jerked back, but she guiltily used her killer strength to start dragging him along. 

“Susie, stop.”

“You said you and the survivors used to talk about me. How I would go easy in my trials,” she said, still tugging. Jake stopped resisting, but dragged his feet, narrowed eyes watching the back of her head. 

“Yeah, and?”

“Was there any other killer who showed you moments of mercy? Anyone who might give us shelter?”

Jake immediately thought of the Hillbilly, then threw that thought away. He was still unsure if Meg’s story was true or not. He shook his head. 

“No. Not anyone outright helpful… well, actually… The Wraith would sometimes give us extra time to unhook someone. I used to think it was to keep the game going… I don’t know, it might be in my head. And there was one time I thought he pretended he didn’t see me run behind a tree to hide. But...”

“Yeah, Philip,” Susie said. “He’s really quiet, but he’s never been mean to us. Even when we’ve pranked him. Frank never took us back there because he doesn’t get a reaction. I think that might be a good idea.”

“O-okay,” Jake nodded. He didn’t want to think about anything but taking one step in front of the other. “Okay, do you know how to find him?”

“Yeah, at AutoHaven. Come on, keep close.”

The deeper they walked into the forest, the less snow there was. Grass began to unfurl from the dirt and the bitter cold became much more bearable. They walked silently, keeping their ears open and eyes peeled. Jake heard the crack of a stick behind them. He gestured for Susie to get low and they both hid behind a large stone. Someone walked past them. Jake peeked around the corner to see who it was. His brow furrowed. No one was there. That couldn’t be good. 

“Run-!” Susie’s warning was cut off with a wet gag. 

He spun around in time to see a knife retract from her head. A bloody, beaten Michael stepped over her body to snatch Jake by the arm. He screamed, cursing and begging, as he was pinned to the wet earth. A heavy weight straddled him. Two large hands wrapped around his throat. This time, Myer's knew better. He kept pressing and pressing, until Jake’s vision began to spot with black. 

The last thing he saw was Michael’s indifferent mask.

Chapter Text

Susie sat up, blindly snatching her knife from her belt and spinning around, looking for danger. It took her several, long seconds to realize that she was back in Ormond. In the lodge. In her own room. 

She nearly dropped the knife as the moments leading up to her death came to clarity. She ran out the room, still numb and achy from the resurrection, down the hall and to the main entrance that the dual staircases framed. She had to get back out to the forest. 

“They couldn’t have gotten far,” she told herself, even if she was well aware it took several hours to a few days for a killer to regenerate. But Michael had only stabbed her skull. He hadn’t mangled her body. “I still have time,” she lied to herself. 

Susie nearly fell down the steps in her haste. When Frank jumped out from behind her and snatched her arm, she reacted by thrashing and screaming, kicking his shin with a solid thunk!

“Ow-shit, Sus! Calm down! You caused enough trouble! The others are out lookin’ for you!” 

“Get off of me!” Susie ripped her arm free. “He’s still out there-!”

Frank yanked her back harshly, giving her a shake as he grabbed a hold of her shoulders. 

“I don’t care! We’re not getting involved anymore, you hear me? Jake ain’t our problem. The Entity wants to fuck with him, and we can’t do anything about it- hey! You listening?” 

Susie was struggling again. She thought about stabbing his hand or something, then guilty shoved that thought aside. She couldn’t explain anything to Frank. He wouldn’t understand. Frank would probably say he deserved it ---

because survivors are nothing but toys down here, girlie. 

“You’re an asshole!” She screamed. “Fuck you!”

“Susie!” you think I’m stupid, bitch? “Holy hell, calm down!” aw, are you gonna cry? 

“Stop it!”

Haha! You barely even tried to run. Dumb bitch.

Her knife flashed. Frank jumped back, mostly in shock that she’d draw her weapon at him. She held it out, arms trembling, crying behind her mask. 

“I’m not dumb!” 

“I didn’t say you were!” Frank said quickly. “Seriously, what has gotten into you?!” 

Fuck, you’re stupid. Or delusional. Either way, I’m gonna enjoy putting you in your place. The news ones are always fun. 

Susie shook her head. It wasn't real. That voice... she looked up and studied Frank’s face, now more worried than angry. He was always so good to her, especially since they had come here. She was a part of The Legion. But when she was a survivor, she’d seen how they all acted in their trials. Susie had been witness to the brutal, horrid things they did when they had the free reign too. The god-complexes she didn’t see when they were lounging around the lodge, joking around and pranking killers. Frank had been particularly vicious to her during her time at the campfire. She had tried to convince him she was one of them. But The Entity had changed their memories. Nothing she said rang a bell. He didn’t like her much, after spouting her so called lies. 

“Susie, can you lower the damn knife please?”

His voice snapped her from her own head. She lowered her arm. Frank lowered his hands too, the gesture of peace now settling into a tense silence. 

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” 

“No,” she said. 

Frank grimaced. “Well, tell me anyway! And don’t ever point your weapon at me. We don’t do that to each other! And not over some shitty survivor you barely know.”

“How can you be so mean to them?” Susie asked. 


“You’re cruel, Frank. In your trials, you act like you’re above them. You’re acting like that right now, and I don’t like it!” 

“Don’t get on your high horse! You kill them too!”

“It’s not a high horse, you jerk! I know them! I know Jake! I was friends with him!” 

“What the hell are you talking about? Did you hit your head on something?” Frank looked ready to punch a wall or storm out the room. Susie wasn’t going to bother letting him decide. She turned around and began to stalk off. Jake was in trouble. She was wasting precious time. 

“It doesn’t matter! Just leave me alone!” 

Frank didn’t chase after her, not until she was already well across the field and to the forest. She made a quick route to where she and Jake had been, finding her blood splattered across the boulder. Nothing more. Susie had a sick feeling that Jake didn’t escape. Fresh tears welled in her eyes. She took off her mask and threw it to the side. 

Damn it! Now what? 

Her mind scrambled for any way to help, recalling what Jake said about The Wraith. Philip might help. He might not. It was a long shot, but one she was willing to take. She couldn’t go back to lodge to explain herself. Not yet, anyway. She’d just start crying. 

“Keep it together, Sus,” she told herself. “One foot at a time.”

She got up, and walked. 


Autohaven was silent, save for the flickering buzz of the sign’s lights. Susie nervously treaded through the wrecked cars, calling out for Philip. 

“I’m not here to cause trouble! Please, I need to talk!”

She didn’t get an answer. So she wandered further into the wreckage, past still generators and empty shacks before she was greeted. Philip came seemingly out of nowhere, blinking down at her with those bright, ghostly eyes. She jumped a foot in the air, immediately apologizing for her intrusion. 

“I’m sorry, I just, I needed to speak with you. If you can…” She didn’t hold out much hope. So when Philip nodded, she nearly pinched herself. Just to see if she was dreaming. 

“Of course. Susie, right?” he asked softly. 

“Y-yeah. Uh, Philip, right?”

He nodded. He was always hard to read. “What did you need from me?”

“This might seem very out of the blue, but the rest of The Legion won’t help me. I was helping a survivor - Jake - and he was taken by Michael. I don’t know what to do! I can’t get to him on my own.”

Philip was quiet. “Uh… you had Jake with you?”

She nodded. “I know it’s hard to believe but I couldn’t give him back to Evan. He’s been doing terrible things to him-”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Philip nodded. “I think you should come with me, Susie.”

“What? Why? Do you want to actually help?”

“Me, and a few other killers who are disgusted by Evan’s actions, yes. We’ve collected together at Coldwind Farms to rescue both Dwight and Jake and return them to the others.”

“Really?” Susie’s heart was skipping beats, terrified that this was some dream. “Others want to help?”

“They do. Anna and The Hillbilly are waiting for me to return. We all have the same goal, so come with me. Help us.”

Susie nodded, throat tight. She had no idea other killers cared. 

“Yes, yes, please. I’ll go with. But we have to hurry. Myers has Jake and… and I can’t imagine what he’s going through…”

“We’ll rescue him. We have two hard-hitters with us, and possibly Pyramid Head.”


“I’m not entirely sure. Follow me. Now that we know where one survivor is, we should act quickly. Also, when The Hillbilly offers you a cake, please act like it tastes good.”

An odd request, but Susie only shrugged. If it’d help Jake… “Okay.”



Waking up in an unknown location, different from the last, was always jarring and unpleasant. When it was the third time in a row, it was downright unsettling. 

Jake shot up from the bed, its sheets layered heavily over him like someone had tucked him in. It was suffocating. Sweat dripped from his back and soaked into the mattress. The cold air felt like bliss against his hot skin as he threw the blankets off. The bedroom he found himself in looked like any other one during his trials in Haddonfield. Nice. Quaint. Ordinary, but only seemingly so. 

Jake threw the sheets to the side. Something tugged at his ankle - a rope. He pulled at it, but his flesh ached deeply where it pulled taut, like it’d been cutting off his circulation for some time. The rope was tied to the bottom bed post, and barely long enough to walk two feet from the mattress. His fingers worked at the knot, but he just irritated his fingers. He needed a knife, or something equally as sharp. His keen eyes scanned the room for anything within reach. Before Jake could get any good ideas in his head, the door unlocked. 

He tensed. Myers peeked his head in, surveying the survivor in silent consideration, his breath and Jake’s both heavy, but for different reasons. Jake backed up into the headboard when the door was locked back into place. The killer resumed staring. 

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed. He was angry. He was scared. He just wanted to go home. 

Michael strode forward. Jake’s breath hitched when the killer crawled onto the bed. He reached out to grab at Jake’s tied ankle. When he couldn’t get a grip on the kicking leg, he grabbed the rope and yanked him back. Jake yelped as he slid under Michael’s broad form, hands coming up to press against his chest. 

“Don’t.” Jake repeated, teeth grinding together, eyes snapping shut. He knew it was hopeless. He knew he was just a pawn. His voice came out low and resigned. “Not yet, please. It’s too fast.’’

The hands stilled. Jake chanced a look up, startled to see the white mask so close to his face. He could see the glitter of Michael’s eyes through the slits, keenly studying his face with an intelligence always overshadowed by the visage of a mindless, killing machine. 

His hand touched Jake’s face. The survivor flinched violently against it, but it wasn’t rough. It was almost delicate. Michael traced his jawline. Jake stared up at him, trying to control his ragged breaths. It was hard when that hand went down to his neck and gave it a squeeze. It throbbed with bruises he couldn’t see, a mark already there, probably shadowing the shape of Myer’s crushing fingers. 

“Don’t,” he wheezed out. 

Myer’s breathing was picking up. It was amplified by the hollow spaces in his mask. The killer grabbed his wrists in a large palm. They were pinned over his head. Myer’s choking hand came down to unzip the black jacket still hanging from his frame. 

“I said to get the hell off!” Jake thrashed, trying to lift up a knee to jam it into his gut. But Michael was too heavy. Jake only shifted his legs, managing to feel the huge cock growing in the killer’s overalls. “You sicko! Fuck you!” 

Michael suddenly lifted off of him. Jake breathed a huge gasp of relief, thinking - by some miracle - that he had a change of heart. But as he sat up in bed, he saw Michael was only undressing himself. The pull of his zipper was like chalk on nails to Jake’s ears. He jumped at his ankle, frantically tugging at the knot until a painful chunk of his nail ripped off. Blood slicked the rope, but his heart leapt when he felt it loosen. He kicked away, just in time to see Michael’s bare ass as his clothes hit the floor. He was huge, and way more muscular that his baggy overalls let on. 

Jake hit the floor. Michael ran after him, but his clothes got caught up in his ankles. He stumbled, yanking them free. He took no more than two steps before the bathroom door slammed shut. On the other side, Jake scrambled to turn the lock. He stepped back, knowing a flimsy wooden door wouldn’t hold for long. He needed a weapon. But the room only had an empty sink, toilet and tub. It looked like someone had yet to move in. There wasn’t even a towel. 

“I’m so fucked…”

He waited for the inevitable bang on the door. But it never came. He held his breath, the anticipation making him feel sick. He backed up until his thighs hit the tub. He fell backwards, into the porcelain slope, tugging the curtain around him like a child with a security blanket. Joey’s hoodie was zipped back up and the hood flipped. Jake hugged himself, curled up, and waited. 

What felt like an hour passed. 

Michael still didn’t break the door down. Jake mistook his hammering heart for it happening several times. He held his arms over his head and closed his eyes. He mumbled things under breath. Stories his friends told him of their time in the real world. Antics by the campfire, Meg and David racing, Claudette making his crows grass crowns, being rewarded with a bottle of vodka and a single can of Sprite they all had to share… He thought of his family by the fire, and cried until he passed out. 







Jake snapped awake, blinking through the dark in confusion. It only took a few seconds to recall where he was. Still in the tub. Asleep. His mind raced as he tried to sit up. But painful twinges ran up and down his arms, making his exit clumsy as he wretched open the curtain. He screamed, falling right back into the tub. Michael was sitting on the toilet, watching him silently, the door closed and intact beside him. 

“What the-!” 

Jake gasped as the hulking, naked figure loomed over him. Michael grabbed his arms, sliding him up against the back of the tub. The killer fell in over the top of him, legs pinning his own together. Jake fought back with all the fury and indignation he had left in him, but Myer’s undressed him like a doll. Like he was nothing. Angry tears ran down his cheeks as his pants were shuffled off next. All his clothes were tossed into the dark. 

Naked skin pressed into naked skin. Myers felt up his sides before manhandling him onto his stomach. His arms hung off the rim of the tub, grasping uselessly for leverage to pull himself away. Myers cupped his ass cheeks and pulled them apart. A thumb pressed against his hole. Jake screamed curses at him. But it didn’t press in quite yet. He heard something pop, like a lid, before screaming new insults at the icy wetness dripping between his crack. Myer’s massaged it in, the long forgotten smell of lube filling the bathroom. The thumb scratched at his rectum, shoving in. A hand pressed into the small of his back to hold him still as it started to pump. In and out, in and out. Jake just grabbed the porcelain edge, telling himself to be grateful - Trapper would just use his blood to slick him up. This… this was bearable. He stilled, biting his lip as two fingers replaced the thumb. He hissed. They slowed, scissoring him open. 

Jake closed his eyes until they were removed. Something hot and thick replaced it. The large cock nudged his hole before slipping in. Jake grunted, trying to hold in his pained whimpers. Myer’s girth stretched him open, inch by aching inch. His hips were gripped. All the air left him as he was suddenly fully sheathed. 

Michael laid across his back. He didn’t thrust quiet yet, but took the time to touch every quiver of Jake’s trembling flesh, holding him close. His hands caressed his throat before pulling out and turning him around. Jake’s hands caught on the killer’s shoulders, legs thrown up and his half-hard dick on his stomach. Myer’s pushed back into him with a low groan. His hands tightened. Jake swallowed thickly, feeling just how tightly the he gripped. He grabbed Myer’s wrists, but the hold remained like iron. The killer slowly pumped his hips, watching Jake’s panicking face like a hawk. The more his crow struggled, the fast he thrust. 

Jake couldn’t help the hot flush running over his body. There was no tearing or blood. Just a steady, growing pleasure rising above the pain. Michael’s stomach was rubbing against his cock. Not firm enough to get him off, but enough to give him those fluttering waves of an approaching orgasm. Jake tried not to push against it. Especially as Michael began to rut into him at a bruising pace, cutting off his oxygen completely. Fear mixed with the pleasure. One hand kept around his throat while another slunk between them. Jake cried out as his cock was enveloped in warmth. The hard thrusts were matched in time with stroking, inexperienced fingers. 

Oh shit, oh shitohshitohshitthisisamazing-!

Jake came, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Stars were shining behind his vision. He nearly blacked out before the pressure loosened and he sucked in a violent inhale of oxygen. Michael had stilled too. Jake vaguely felt the gush of warmth deep inside of him. He wasn't sure if he should care of not. It had happened so many times already. He was just relieved that it was over with, and slumped into Myer's arms that were snaking under his back. Jake closed his eyes. His head was ringing. His neck burned and he knew it was going to be painful later. But he didn’t care. 

He would later. But… he was so tired. 

It was dark and quiet. He felt a hand pet his back. Michael didn’t move from the tub. He just laid down, holding Jake against his chest. The saboteur blearily wondered if this was the lesser of his two hells. If he should be grateful that sex didn't begin and end in a beating. He tried not to think how fucked up that was. He just went to sleep. 


Evan hated to admit it, but he needed help. Haddonfield was large, with several houses he’d scoured through and trashed. Myers had never shown his face, and he’d never found anything leading to a basement or secret room. It was like the killer had up and vanished. But he had no allies. Nowhere to run too, not with Park to tame. Lord knew that mutt still needed a lot of training.  

Of course, his pets just had to be taken by the two most elusive killers. He still had no idea where that pathetic brat Danny was hiding away at. He knew he had Dwight. He felt it in his gut. Seen it when he stupidly let the photographer play with him during their photoshoot. Evan had just been so angry at the time, he’d only wanted to punish Jake's public disrespect. And scared Dwight a little. Maybe that was his problem. He couldn’t help it though. He’d always been full of rage. 

And now The Entity had pumped him full of that sap shit. While he’d always enjoyed that time of the year - being quicker and more savage during his trials, getting to sate his overwhelming energy with Dwight, who always tried to act like he didn’t hate the season...

Evan groaned and tried not to touch himself. There was one shitty thing about this power. He was insanely horny, and he couldn’t get himself off with his own hand. Evan couldn’t imagine a season without Dwight in his basement. The thought had him panicking, trying to come up with another plan besides barge in and punch the other killers. None of them had abilities that could help him. Survivors were perceptive. But it’s not like he could just waltz into their fucking camp and ask for help.

“Could I?” Evan wondered. 

The air went silent. Evan tensed when he realized his stray thought had been taken seriously. The Entity seemed to consider it, and the air heaved, a strange motion not unlike a shrug. 

Why not? 


It is interesting. You’re barging around was amusing at first… But now you look foolish. This is your last chance to retrieve your pets. Then it's back to routine, and I expect nothing short of perfection in your trials, my trapper. 

“I always give you perfection,” Evan snarled, offended. 

Mostly… but others have pleased me more than you recently. Especially where sacrifices are considered. I warn you, my younger killers seem much more rewarding of your pets than you. And asking help from a survivor? Showing a desperate side I see. Over a mere toy? 

It seemed to scoff. Evan felt a flush of shame and humiliation. He shoved those feelings away. This creature wasn’t his father. 

“I can have any survivor?” He asked instead. 

Of your choosing, yes. But only temporarily. Once they die, they go back to their trials. 

“Can they see openings, trap doors? Anything that could be perceived as that?”

If I want them to. I can boost their abilities not unlike I did yours. But it would cost you.

“What do you want?”

Half of your excess power. I’d have you transfer it over to them. 


The Entity seemed to grin. It’s that, or you can continue to wander around the forest. But I might add, your plan could work. To find both the shape and the ghostface. 

Evan growled. He didn’t want to let go of his immeasurable strength. Even with all of it, he’d still struggled in his fight against Myers. He’d gotten distracted when he noticed Jake was gone. Myers got the upper hand. It could easily happen without all this strength, being in The Shape’s own realm. On the other hand… The Entity just said he could get to Dwight like this. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he failed in that. 

“Shit,” he cursed. 

I’m getting bored. 

“Yes, okay,” he nodded. “I want to use a survivor. But which one can see the passages?”

Two of them, each in their own way. The street artist and the dreamwalker. 

Evan had no idea what a “street artist” was. Dreamwalker was vaguely familiar though, and he immediately connected it to Quentin, the boy that Kreuger was obsessed with. He nodded. 

“I’m ready. I’ll give up some of my power.” 

Be on your way then… The forest darkened before him, mist rolling in to obscure even the closest trees. I look forward to a bit of a frenzy. 

Evan stepped into the fog. After several long seconds, the faint shimmer of a campfire began cutting through the thick of it. He grinned deviously. The dreamwalker was going to help him whether he wanted to or not. 

Chapter Text

Quentin sighed, chin in hand as he studied the fire. He’d been staring for so long, a deep ache had settled behind his eyes, completely unnoticed with how deep in thought he was. There weren't good thoughts. Good thoughts were hard to come by nowadays. 

Meg and Laurie were somewhat on speaking terms. Nea had finally blown up at Laurie to go have a private conversation with the runner. Quentin had no idea what they talked about, but tension was still heavy in the air. It probably would be until they got Jake back. If they ever got Jake back. Quentin buried his face in his arms. He faintly wondered when he’d be called into a trial. It felt like it’d been a while since the last one. 

“Hey, Quen. Keepin’ warm?” 

Quentin looked up to see David settled beside him. He’d been keeping to himself, not unlike Claudette, since witnessing Jake’s mutilation. It had done a number on all of them. On their moral. On their minds. On everything.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just… enjoying the free time. We haven’t played a trial in like ages.”

“I noticed that too… I want to be glad for it, but I keep lookin’ over my shoulder, wondering what the spider bitch is up to.”

“Yeah,” Quentin sighed. It’s always something with that thing, isn’t it? “It feels like it’s distracted or something. Does that make sense? Like…. Its presence is usually here, watching us. But right now, it’s hard to feel it.”

“No, I agree.”

“Agree with what?” Claudette asked, emerging from the trees. There were rings under her eyes and one of her lenses had been cracked. The Entity, strangely enough, hadn’t repaired them upon her last death. She sat down on the log on the other side of Quentin, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “What are you boys chatting about?”

“Spider bitches and their lack of presence,” David said. 

“Ah,” Claudette nodded. “That spider bitch still won’t give me new glasses. I keep tripping over branches.”

Quentin titled his head. If not repaired after death, The Deity usually repaired injuries or damages while they slept in the camp, if only to keep them in top shape for trials. It got bored if they were too incompetent. 

“Weird. You think it didn’t notice? Quentin here pointed at that The Entity’s presence is a lot less… around us. You notice that too?”

Claudette nodded. “Now that you mention it… yeah. No trials though. It feels like this is the longest we’ve gone without being killed. It’s honestly kind of nice.”

“Feels like something bad is going to happen,” Quentin mumbled. 

“Ah come on!” David elbowed him, trying to lighten the mood. “Plenty of time for naps now, right?”

Quentin rolled his eyes, but smirked. “I bet that’s what it is. The Entity is waiting for me to close my eyes before it throws us into a game. It realized that’s the only thing I care about.”

David grasped at his heart. “You wound me, Quen. Are me and Claude here chopped liver?”

Quentin shrugged slyly. “I don’t know, naps don’t steal my rabbit.”

David snorted, crossing his arms. “It was one time and it wasn’t even yours! I didn’t know Meg was saving those pieces!” 

Quentin and Claudette snickered. It was weird, yes, but the lull in being killed seemed to cut a bit of their stress away. If Quentin was careful, he could pretend things were the same. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Quentin said. “Keep lying to yourself. Maybe we’ll believe you one day too.”

“I’ll smack that smug, little grin off yer face if I didn’t like ya so much,” David quipped back. 

“Good, because I’m sick of violence,” Claudette said. She looked around. “I wonder if we could find some larvae or something to cook on sticks.”

“Mmm,” Quentin hummed sarcastically. 

“You never even tried em’,” David shot back. “Little buggers taste pretty good when Claude cooks them.”

She laughed, but glanced over her shoulder, suddenly sitting up. The other two followed her lead, realizing that heavy footsteps were stomping towards them. Neither Nea, Meg or Laurie made that much racket. Maybe David, if he hadn’t been standing up beside him, fists already out, ready to pummel. 

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, David. Maybe it's- oh my god!” Claudette scrambled off the log, towards Quentin. David pushed them back towards the woods. Trapper stood there, watching them with heavy breaths. 

“Go! I’ll hold him off for a while,” David said. 

“He’ll kill you! And this is our camp, it could be perm-” she couldn’t finish what she was thinking, but accented the implication by jerking at his arm. “We should run!” 

“The boy,” Trapper suddenly said, pointing a finger right at Quentin. 

“M-me?” Quentin’s face paled. And why were his arms glowing orange? 

“Come here. It’ll make this easier for both of us if you don't run,” the killer ordered.

David snarled and shoved Claudette towards Quentin, ordering them both to run and warn the others. Trapper began to chase after them, but David side-stepped in front of him, dodging the cut of his cleaver and grabbing his wrist. He gave the killer a sharp punch to the mask. It hurt his fist more than it stunned the killer, who wrenched the cleaver right through his gut, holding David by the shoulder. The man gagged on his own blood. He kicked out, his punches getting weaker. 

“You damn fuck-” he gasped, the blade sliding out of him. It stabbed back in. “Gah! What the fuck you want with him!” 

Trapper ignored the question. His weapon sliced through David’s guts, spilling innards and bile all over the ground. His body dropped over the top of it. Trapper walked over him, stalking towards the broken branches and ferns. That boy would pay the longer he made him play this game of cat and mouse. 

“If you don’t give me the boy right now, I’m going to find every last survivor in this place and gut them alive! Hear that, Quentin? It’d be better if you didn’t test me right now.” He shouted into the forest, hoping the boy might self-sacrifice. Survivors had a habit of pulling that martyr shit in trials. “I’ll gladly smash in their skulls in front of you, while they gasp for mercy!” 

He paused. Nothing. Growling, the killer stalked deeper into the woods. 


Just a few feet away, hiding behind a thick tree, Caludette held a tight hand over Quentin’s mouth. He was shaking in fear, clutching Claude’s wrist weakly. She had just pulled him back from giving himself up. Trapper will kill us anyway , she whispered in his ear. You know what’ll happen if you go with him. It's a hell worse than this, you know that, you saw it yourself!  She didn’t sugar coat it. She couldn’t afford to, even if the crumpling in Quen’s face broke her heart. She held him to her chest in a vice-like grip. He wasn’t disappearing like Jake. She wouldn’t let him. 

“Follow me,” she said quietly. 

Tugging him in the opposite direction, they made their way back to the fire. The forest was thicker on this side, but before they could find a good place to hide, a crow gave a warning caw. Trapper’s footsteps were already stomping nearby. He had to know were they were. They could make a run for it now, or take the chance he’d pass by. Claudette and Quentin exchanged a brief glance. He knew exactly what she had planned. 

“Don’t you dare take the hit for me-” Quentin grunted as Claudette shoved him forward, telling him to find the others as Trapper broke away the brush around them. His cleaver sunk into Claude’s arm. She went down, grasping at the gushing blood. 

Quentin ran. She started to scream. It was cut off with a gurgle. Quentin cried, wiping furiously at his face as he shoved branches aside, scratching his arms up. He ran in a blind direction. Trapper had to be running after him. Who know what he wanted from him. Was he another reward? How long before their were no survivors left? 

Quentin stumbled. His body had lurched forward awkwardly in his run and he suddenly began to slow. His face went from white terror to an almost bored emptyness. His breathing was still heavy from the exertion, but evening out, his eyes sightless as he resumed walking forward. His shoulder bumped into a tree. He stumbled and walked at a slight angle. The killer suddenly tore through the foliage. His blade was bloody. It was raised and dripping, pausing at the lack of scurrying away or frightened cries. 

“What the fuck is...” 

Trapper recalled this happening before. His pet had said this particular survivor experienced lags in consciousness or something. He shrugged. If it made his damn life easier. He snatched Quentin by the arm, dragging the pliable body up and over his shoulder. Quentin’s legs kept slowly moving, as if he thought he were still walking, but made no fuss other wise. Trapper was almost disappointed by how easy the chase had been. Not that he had time to dally around. He marched towards the thicker parts of the fog. The Entity, who felt that he was ready to venture out, wrapped its tendrils around him.  He heard a survivor scream for him to stop. A few of the females. He ignored them, their frantic cries growing quieter and quieter before the fog opened back up into the hub. Evan tossed Quentin onto the ground, pinning him there with a boot as he looked up to the sky. 

“So? How do we do this so I can find Danny and gouge out his eyes?”

There was no answer. Evan growled, looking back down at his prey. He was still full of that serum, and his frustration at The Entity pinned itself on Quentin. The damn brat probably needed to be awake. He had no idea how long it’d take. And fuck, he didn’t have time. Not to mention his cock was aching…

Evan kicked Quentin to his stomach, his boot nudging at his ass. His cock gave an interested tingle. He knelt down and tugged his waistband down, cupping the surprisingly round ass hidden underneath. The killer felt his heart rate rise. His hands were unzipping himself before he made the conscious decision to act. If the brat would make him wait, he’d just help himself. Quentin’s body was tugged back and forth as his clothes were literally ripped off him. Evan didn’t care if he had to walk around naked to all the realms. The bitch deserved it for making him wait. 

He slapped his ass, enjoying the jiggle. He grabbed his cock and lined himself up between those cheeks, squeezing them together and rutting into the soft flesh. Quentin made a little moaning noise, still staring blindly forward. Evan bucked his hips, laughing as he spit onto his dick and smeared it against his asshole. 

“I didn’t realize all the survivors were such sluts.” Evan groaned, his cockhead sliding into the tight ring of muscles. He leaned forward, pressing further in, finding rough friction but uncaring. “Fucking bitch, that it. Take it like a good whore.” He sunk in fully and paused, breath shuddering. 

Oh Entity , he needed the heat of an ass. The burning, terrible itch in his groin slowly soothed as he withdrew, then sunk back in. His pace picked up remarkably quick until he was pounding into Quentin’s twitching body. He slammed his face into the dirt, getting frustrated that he wasn’t yet awake. He liked it when his sluts screamed. It felt good when they struggled too. This kinda felt like fucking a corpse, and Evan felt a tiny bit put off. What was the fun when they didn’t suffer? Maybe changing the position would help… 

Evan growled in frustration and manhandled Quentin off the ground, pinning by him to a tree and lifting his legs up to his chest. He slammed back inside, dropping the survivor’s weight on his cock as he pumped in and out. No, it wasn’t Dwight’s ass, but at least it was ass. 

“Gnng…” Quentin’s muscles clenched a bit. His eyes fluttered. 

Evan grinned behind his mask, excited as he pressed closer into the survivor, burying himself balls deep with each hard thrust. Quentin’s eyes widened, filling in fear as he registered that there was danger, the recognition of Trapper coming seconds later. Quentin screamed in pain and terror. He arms came up to shove at Trapper’s chest and his hips wiggled, trying to uselessly escape. Evan pinned him by his throat, enjoying the feel of him swallowing against his palm. The sudden life to his prey made the fuck worthwhile. It only took a few more thrusts. Quentin’s begging pushed him over the edge. 

He grunted with a final thrust, hot semen coating his insides. Quentin was impossibly tight, and Evan was reluctant to leave the warmth. The only reason he did was because he felt a strange pulling sensation on his cock. He looked down, noticing that some of the light in his arms had funneled down to his naval and seemingly, down his dick and into Quentin. He didn’t feel as strong or as frenzied as before. He was… sated in a way, but felt that it was temporary. He pulled fully out of the boy, earning a whine from where he kept him pinned by his neck. He studied Quentin’s face. It looked like the veins in his neck might have a faint glow to them, but it was too subtle to tell. 

“Do you feel any different?” Evan asked harshly.

Quentin stared at him, uncomprehending. The killer gave him a violent shake. Quentin only started sobbing, and Evan sighed, exasperated. He felt that the power was exchanged, though, so there was only one way to actually figure out if it worked. He clasped a palm over Quentin’s trembling mouth to shut him up. 

“Listen, bitch. The Entity has given you a gift. You’re gonna use it to find a hidden door for me. And you’re going to cooperate like a good boy, or I can make this whole thing a lot more unbearable than just a cock in your ass.” 

Quentin gave a tiny, frightened nod. To make certain he wouldn’t have to chase him around, Evan took the remains of the boy’s shirt and ripped it into strips. Quentin stared, terrified, under his boot. He laid as still as he could, trying not to invoke any more rage as his arms were tied behind his back. One of the strips was tied around his neck. The rest were knotted into a leash. Humiliated, Quentin was yanked to his feet, naked and with blood and cum drying between his thighs. Evan tugged him deeper into the hub by his homemade collar. Quentin ducked his head in shame. It was hard to contain his sobs, especially when Evan gave his ass one more harsh slap. 

“Let’s go, bitch. Haddonfield isn’t searching itself.”

Chapter Text

Micheal left the house only once. Jake took the chance to explore his room, still trapped by a long piece of rope to his ankle, giving him just enough space to reach the window on the other end of the room, but not the door. The window - which Jake had just thought was too dark to see out of, was actually boarded up. Or perhaps that was dirt on the other side of the glass. He didn't know, just that it wasn't going to be a potential escape. 

There were some pictures framed on the dresser and table. Photos of a family Jake didn't recognize - parents, a young girl, boy and a baby. Laurie never talked about her experiences with Michael, but she'd given up enough hints that he knew that was her - the baby wrapped in light blue. He missed her. A sudden jarring pain skewered his heart. He crawled back onto the bed, feeling defeated and worn. He was never going back to the campfire. He would never see Dwight again, who was with that ghost freak, going through who-knows-what. He felt weak. Useless. 

His neck throbbed. Jake rubbed at the bruises that made it hard to talk. It reminded him of the other night. Of falling alseep in a killer's arms... Unlike Trapper, Michael had prepared Jake's ass, leaving it pain-free come the next day. Why? He didn't know...

The door was unlocked. Jake's heart skipped a beat in fear. It still felt like he was in Trapper's basement, expected to be up and ready to please. Jake cowered a bit as Michael entered. The killer slowly walked over to him after re-locking the bolts, sitting down on the bed with his heavy weight. Jake dipped slightly towards him.

He bit the inside of his cheek as a broad hand grabbed his shoulder and tugged him to the killer's side. Jake was frozen stiff, unsure. Michael just sat there, rubbing his survivor's skin, as if enjoying the simple feeling of it. It took Jake a long time to relax (if only a tiny bit) under the ministrations. And without the constant threat of a punishment, he finally found the courage to ask what'd been on his mind. His voice came out scratchy and sore:

"Are you going to hurt me... if I'm good for you?" Jake asked. He felt weak for asking, but thought that maybe... maybe if there was no escape... if he could have relief from his constant agony...

His breath hitched when Michael's hand stopped petting. It slid over his throat. Jake thought the answer to his question must have been no, especially when he was pinned on his back, a looming killer sliding over the top of him. Michael's breaths were heavy. Jake stared up at his mask with wide eyes. Suddenly, the grip on his neck loosened, and rough fingers explored his still-naked body. The touch was gentle. Searching. Jake shivered as nails lightly scraped down his sides, eliciting pleasurable shivers. His thighs were rubbed too, enticingly close to his half-hardening cock. Michael ghosted over the flesh. Jake grit his teeth. It felt… God, it felt good. When those fingers grasped his cock, not unlike how they did in the tub, it felt more than good. 

“Sh-shit,” Jake cursed, body heating up. Michael’s palm wrapped around him. He felt nice and warm, and Jake couldn’t help but thrust a tiny bit into it. He was mortified by his actions, but earned another few pumps for his efforts. Then Michael let go. Cold air hit his aching flesh as his legs were forced further apart. 

“What are you-?!” 

Michael’s head settled between his thighs, a thumb hooking under the white plastic of his mask to lift it just over the bridge of his nose. Jake expected deformities, but from what he saw, Michael looked fairly human. Those pink lips pressed into the tip of his cock before swallowing it. Jake nearly cried out, biting the back of his hand. It was more jolting than pain - the sudden, overstimulating heat that was sucking him in fully. He grabbed Michael’s head before he could stop himself, trembling as a tongue swirled and licked, and teeth grazed his underside. His toes curled. It was too much. Too much, too fast. He was feeling the tingles of an orgasm in only a few embarrassing seconds. 

“Wait- I’m…” Jake choked on his words. 

He wanted it. In the heat of the moment, he didn’t care that it was a killer doing this to him. At least this killer didn't make him bleed. His whole body was in constant pain. He’d been ridiculed to horrible agonies by the Trapper. If he was going to be a toy anyway, at least it was with Michael. Those thoughts seemed so normal while he came. But when he settled down from his high, still grasping the killer’s head, they made him sick. He unclenched his fingers from the mask, hissing as Michael’s mouth popped free of his slick cock. He’d eaten all his cum. Jake’s stomach flipped, unsure how to feel about that. 

Michael tugged his mask back down. Before Jake could process what was happening, strong arms wrapped around him. The bed dipped with extra weight. Michael fell onto his side, pulling Jake against his chest. The survivor was stiff with tension. But his body wanted to sag against the hard muscles. Pleasant tingles were still running through his lower region, making him want to just curl up and sleep. His thoughts, however, were racing. 

I let him touch me, didn’t I? I enjoyed it….

No, no, you have no choice. He’s not mutilating or dismembering you. You don’t have to wear a collar…

Hesitance made his head hurt. He wanted to fight back. To physically push against Michael just to say that he tried to retain some dignity. But he didn’t want to care. He was so tired. Maybe he’d find the spirit to keep fighting after a nap. His eyes were already drooping shut. Michael cupped his head and laid it close to the crook of his shoulder. Fingers gently, tenderly, slid along his skin. Jake found them pleasant.  It made bile rise in his throat. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly. 

Suddenly, his head was lifted up. A firm hand had clasped around his throat, making it hard to swallow. Michael stared down at him. His breathing was uneven and shallow. A thumb traced Jake’s adam's apple. For a moment, the survivor wondered if he’d be throttled to death. Then Micheal leaned down, pressed his fake lips to Jake’s forehead, and laid back down. The saboteur was tucked into his side and everything stilled once more. A certain tranquility settled over them. 

Jake's body was sated, but his mind was at war.

Chapter Text

Jake woke up still in bed. Michael had moved him under the covers, tucking him in. He saw the killer’s broad back to him, in the kitchen, shifting like he was making something hidden on the counter. 

Jake grew nervous. He sat up slightly, hissing at the ache in his throat. Michael turned. Jake blinked. The killer was holding a bowl, and it looked like it was filled with something. His mouth watered at the possibility of food, knowing how rare a treat it was. But despite his desire, he scolded himself, knowing he couldn’t just act like some eager pet. 

Michael walked towards him. A sweet smell hit the saboteur. His mouth watering turned to near water works. The bowl was filled with little pieces of cut apple, it looked like. Jake hadn’t had a fruit in… in forever. At least, it felt like it. He looked up at Michael, forgetting his silent pledge to stay strong. He really wanted that apple. 

Yet… he wasn’t asked to suck a cock or raise his ass for it. The killer just gave it to him. Set it in his hands, and walked back to the kitchen for a glass of water he also gave Jake. 

“I… I can have this? No catch?” the survivor asked, still wary. 

Michael nodded. He tapped the edge of the bowl with a finger, then at Jake, directing him to eat. Jake took a piece. He had expected to eat on the ground, like a dog. But this was fine. He popped the fruit between his teeth. Fuck. It tasted like candy. He devoured half the bowl in what felt like a few seconds, before it hurt his stomach and oversweetened his pallet. Weird, how an apple could taste like sugar after so long. 

“Thank you,” he said, setting the bowl down. He took a sip of water. “For… treating me like a person… mostly.”

Michael didn’t take offense to the last part. He even seemed pleased, stoically clasping Jake on the shoulder. He took the bowl and set to the side, still within reach, before dragging Jake into his lap. He didn’t initiate anything. Just held the saboteur. He stroked him, a slight breathy hum emanating from the mask. It was too low for Jake to really make out, but audible enough to lull him back into sleep. 

The taste of apple sat heavy on his tongue. He focused on it, wondering if there were more types of fruit to be eaten. He’d love to have pineapple again. That was his favorite. He thought about asking Michael, just to test his boundaries, when the killer tensed. So did Jake, looking up with a tense expression. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Michael was staring up at the ceiling. He carefully peeled Jake off of him and laid him down on the pillows. The saboteur wanted to protest when the rope was tied back around his ankle, but he knew it’d fall on deaf ears. He thought Michael must have had a trial or something, but there was no pull to his chest. It made him a little wary. 

“What’s wrong?” Jake asked again. 

Michael was at the door. He paused at Jake’s voice, striding back towards him and grabbing his face in his hands. Jake flailed for a second, scared. But Michael just pulled up his mask and gave him a kiss on the lips. Jake didn’t kiss back, but he didn’t pull away. Michael stroked his cheek, then was out the door. 

It gave a final click behind him, locking the saboteur in. 

Lampkin lane was quiet. Quentin was dragged down the car littered road, trying to keep up with Trapper’s quick stride. The poor boy was terrified. His ass still ached terribly. The veins in his shaky hands had begun to glow a gentle orange. He was being lead around like a dog. And he hadn’t had a single moment to process it. 

Why wasn’t he at the campfire? Where were his friends? 

Quentin grasped weakly at the fabric tied too tightly around his throat. It would make him stumble every few steps, choking him. He had stopped crying after they entered this realm, his fear giving away to shock. He numbly looked around. There were no gens. It made the whole place look weird… a bit more scary. No escape. Trapper jerked him back to reality. 

“Hey, bitch,” came the gruff voice. “You’re gonna be my eyesight. The Entity said you’ll be able to see hidden doors. We’re going house to house, and you’re gonna tell me when you see one.”

Quentin didn’t understand. But he nodded anyway. Out of all the killers, he feared this one the most. He’d seen what this monster could do when angry. 

“O-okay,” he squeaked out. 

“Good boy.” 

A strong hand grabbed his shoulder, shoving him along. Quentin went up the steps of the first house. The door was already kicked in. It looked like someone had ransacked the place. He’d seen enough cleaver cuts to recognize Trapper’s work on the walls. His frantic heartbeat grew even quicker. He scanned the area, wondering exactly what he was looking for, scared to fail. He caught sight of bright yellow as soon as they entered the kitchen. 

Quentin pointed it out to Trapper, stumbling out a timid, “Over there…”

Trapper nearly choked him to death in his rush to the cabinet. He kicked open the low hanging doors and looked inside. “Where?”

“There’s a square, at the bottom of the cupboard there,” Quentin pointed. 

Trapper’s fingers traced the wood. He hummed in satisfaction. Quentin heard a pop and the plank was swung open, creating a tight space to a small, shallow hole. Trapper grunted in anger and slammed the door shut. It had only been a hidden area for canned goods. Quentin put that knowledge away for later. If he ever went back to the fire. If… That was the scariest thought of all. 

Trapper tugged him along, grumbling as if Quentin were in the wrong. He bowed his head, feeling stupid, only looking up when they entered the next house. There was even less to be found. 

“Nothing? Still?” Trapper’s fists clenched. Quentin stammered out an apology. “Shut up. You better hope you find something useful.”

Quentin held back tears. He was dragged back out into the cold street. The rocks dug into his soles. He hugged himself, praying to The Entity that he found whatever this killer wanted. Trapper suddenly stopped in front of him. Quentin nearly collided into his back. Startled, he peeked around him to see the only resident of Lampkin Lane, standing in the street. Blocking their path. Trapper’s weapon was out. He eased Quentin back a few steps, quickly tying his leash to a street lamp. Michael just stood there. 

“If you try to untie this, I’ll cut your fucking hands off,” Trapper warned. 

Then he stalked towards Michael, as if the boy didn’t exist. Michael caught Trapper’s wrist as it swung down. A fist threw itself into Michael’s face, as his knife plunged into Trapper’s side. Trapper acted like it was only a punch to the gut, grunting and jerking himself away. Michael sliced at him once, then made a deadly stride towards Quentin. Quentin’s eyes blew up wide. He frantically grabbed at the leash. The knots were too tight. He sobbed as Michael descended upon him, knife raised for his throat. 

“Please, stop!” Quentin begged. Whether it was to Michael, Trapper, or the deity, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. 

The knife didn’t plunge through his arms. He heard a scuffle and grunts. The tearing of flesh. His frozen limbs fell, and he jumped back into time to miss Michael’s knife ripping into his gut. Trapper was holding him back, stabbing his back and shoulders. Where Trapper had been cut, his flesh was slowly knitting itself back together. Michael, not so much. But he wasn’t slowing down either. He kept swing, actively trying to kill Quentin. He didn’t seem to care if Trapper did him in, just as long as the survivor was gutted. 

Quentin couldn’t breath. He backed up as far as he could go. Trapper elbowed Michael in the face, throwing him back. Quentin saw the killer’s legs braced against the ground though. He knew a killing lunge when he saw one. In a split moment of decision, he grabbed the leash, stepping forward and ducking, the leash held out between his hands. The knife cut open his arm, but it also cut the fabric. Quentin was racing down the sidewalk, dripping red in his wake.

“Fuck!” He heard Trapper shouting for him. “Jake’s in one of the houses! If-” he grunted, earning a few stabs to the gut, grappling with Michael for the upperhand. “If you leave, you leave him too!” 

Quentin stopped running. He frantically looked around, as if his lost friend would appear before him. Was that what Trapper wanted him for? Was Jake here, hidden away? He ran into the nearest house, heart beating wildly. Did Michael have him? Why was he trying to kill him? Because he... Quentin nearly fell to his knees, he was so overwhelmed. But he fought through it. If Jake was here, he’d find him. He needed to find him. 

This house was empty. He jumped out the back window, trying not run, uncertain if the killer could still follow him like that outside a trial. He scrambled in through the next back door. It was quiet again, he noted before entering. He didn’t want either of them to find him. Up the stairs he went, holding the wall for support. He almost slipped on his own blood as he vaulted out the window. Nothing there. He crept through the bushes. He saw a flicker of movement on the other side of the street. He sunk behind a tree, both to catch his breath and calm himself. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he muttered, holding his head. “Just… just keep looking. Just…” he looked down at his arm, realizing the mess he was leaving behind. 

He cursed and got up. He’d be found soon anyway. He ran to a house he hadn’t yet entered. When he snuck through the back porch, his eyes immediately fell on a bold yellow square tucked in the corner of the living room. It was hidden under the edge of a rug, where one could enter the hatch and leave the area undisturbed. Quentin found that it was locked though. His panic grew as he fumbled with the little lock. He scrambled to his feet and went into the kitchen, grabbing the heaviest thing he could find - a toaster oven. It was heavy. He smashed his finger more than once as he hauled it over his head and brought it down, over and over, on the lock. When the metal bent, he sobbed in relief. He was being loud. He didn’t care. He couldn’t hear anything above his heartbeat. Adrenaline rushed through hsi tired body as he hauled open the hatch. Soft light and warm air greeted him. He quickly descended the ladder. His arm was half-numb, and he almost fell to the bottom, where a hallway led to another door. This one was locked too. He banged against it. 

“Jake! Jake, are you in there!?” Quentin called. He strained his ears, listening. 

“Quen?!” A disbelieving voice called back. “Oh god, Quentin?” 

“Jake!” Quentin sobbed then, heavy and loud. He banged against the door again. “Can you open the door!? We have to get out of here!”

There was a beat of silence. “I- I can’t reach the door, fuck! Just… fuck, Quen, he could come back and hurt you.”

“Trapper is here too,” Quentin said. “They were fighting each other… I-I ran away but one of them will follow my blood! Please, try to unlock the door! I won’t leave until you’re with me!” 

He heard Jake grunting, and the scrape of furniture. He waited in tense silence, holding the door with a shaky palm. When Jake cursed, Quentin’s hand fell a little lower, unsure. He wanted to hope that they’d escape. He was scared he hoped for too much.

Evan had lost two fingers. But he finally got the upper hand, Michael’s wounds having caught up to him. He was a bull, and without the full power of the serum, Evan didn’t bring him down as fast as he’d wanted to. Michael’s left hand was gone. His other clenched the blade that was slick with Evan’s blood. His side hurt fiercely, were the flesh slowly stitched back together. But Evan’s anger helped him fight through it unwaveringly. 

He buried his cleaver in Michael’s skull. The killer gave a grunt before it was wretched out, blood splattering free and the body going down with a heavy thump. But Michael was still moving. If sluggishly. A dark red puddle formed under his back, soaking his sleeves as he tried to push himself up. 

Evan kicked him in the chest, bringing the cleaver back down on the fresh wound. The skull cracked hard under his blade. It gave a satisfying squelch as gore began to flow down the inside of the mask like a river. Michael weakly tried to grab his arm. Evan growled in victory, slicing away half the fingers. Michael still tried to get up. Evan stepped back to let him, laughing in relief as Michael doubled over, physically unable to lift his head. 

“You dumb fuck. Coming to my home, taking my things.” 

Evan kicked him in the head. His loose skull gave another crack. Michael lolled onto his side. Like a machine, he kept trying to get up. It pissed Evan off, and he hacked at Michael like he was a survivor. Like he would cry and beg for mercy. But Michael only gave him indifferent grunts. A muted response. An annoying, satisfying one. Evan wanted so badly to take his time. But Quentin was off leash. Hopefully looking for Jake. 

He brought his cleaver down onto Michael’s head, calling him any slur or insult his mind could conjure up. When the mask held nothing but a paste of bone shards and brain, Evan finally stalked away. He was still angry. Michael obviously knew of Quentin’s power. So he was in the right direction. Which meant Quentin could find Dwight too… 

He found the boy’s blood and followed to a house. Then another, and another, until the red grew heavy in a living room. Evan’s heart skipped a beat. A rug had been thrown back. A large hatch, hidden beneath, had been bloodied in the survivor’s descent. Evan grinned under his mask. No blood led away, and he heard a voice below, muffled by the earth. He eagerly followed it.

Susie nervously followed behind The Huntress. The large woman was humming under her breath, low and ominous, as the group marched through the forest. The Hillbilly was ambled beside her, humming along in a skewered version of the lullaby. Philip led the way. Pyramid Head, whose realm they had visited before coming here, lagged behind. 

The sound of his sword dragging was quite annoying. Coupled with the singing, Susie wondered if Michael would be able to hear them coming from a mile away. But, that didn’t really matter. Philip was hoping to speak with Myers and convince him to give up Jake peacefully. Susie really doubted it’d work. But as strange as Philip was, she was refreshed by his refusal to be violent. Philip seemed tortured by his actions. Like he’d never felt anything but contempt for what he was forced to do. Susie trusted him because of that. Trusted in his help. 

So she tagged along with the group. The hub slowly dimmed under their feet, orange veins slowly turning to asphalt among patches of dirt and grass. The houses loomed through the trees. Susie checked that her knife was at her belt as they entered - trespassed. She steeled herself for a fight. After what he did, she doubted Myers would give Jake up willingly. 

And while she admired Philip’s refusal to fight, she would if she had to. Maybe that’s what Pyramid Head was for. 

Philip’s gait paused. Then he was running forward, towards a body in the middle fo the street. It was dark enough that Susie would have missed it, but now saw the gleam of blood. Lots of blood. It was Myer’s body. His head had been cleaved in. His hands were mutilated. Susie looked away, feeling only the tiniest bit of satisfaction out of his death. She felt guilty for it, but then thought of Jake’s terrified calls of help. Myers didn’t deserve her pity. She instead pointed to the blood leading away from the scene, and continuing down the sidewalk. 

“Philip! Evan must have went looking for Jake. We should follow him.”

Philip nodded. “We should hurry.”

The Hillbilly and Anna had suddenly become serious, losing the child-like bounce to their movements. No longer was this a fun outing into unknown territory, but a hunt. They now looked the ferocious killers they were meant to be, chasing after Philip with brandished weapons. Susie would hate to be on the end of that chainsaw. 

She hurried beside Pyramid Head. The blood led into a house, but Philip saw red dripping from the side window. It led to the neighboring home. It would take too long to follow the trail, so Philip had them split in pairs and search the nearest cluster of homes. Susie followed the Wraith. Pyramid Head by himself, and the singing duo together. 

“Evan won’t listen to you,” Susie began, as they stepped into the house. “Philip, you know how he is.”

“If he won’t listen, then I’ll fight.”

Susie pursed her lips. Worried. Fretful. Unsure. Anxiety bit at his insides. They went into the living room. The blood spread out, splashing about in the kitchen. A busted toaster oven sat on its side. Susie stared down the hatch, hearing the screams of one of the survivors. It sounded like Quentin - that sleepy kid. Philip went stiff beside her. His weapon was out, and he was snarling. An animal like sound that frightened her. 

“Go! Get the others and be quick!” Philip ordered. He jumped down the hatch. Susie took a second to process what he said, before running out of the house to get back up. 

Philip panicked. He hadn’t expected to hear Quentin’s voice. Not here. Not terrified, screaming out for help. He had been so scared to face him in trials, to witness his hopelessness. Now he had no choice. 

“Evan!” Philip shouted, running down the dim hall. 

There was a door at the end, busted open, blood decorating the frame. Philip stumbled into the room. He saw Evan with Jake pinned under him, arms being tied behind his back, gagged and struggling. Behind him, was Quentin, cowering against the wall with a bloody arm. But he was naked, with a crude leash around his neck, and unspeakable fluids between his legs. Philip felt his blood boil. Felt his vision go red.

“Don’t touch him,” Philip snarled. 

Evan had sat up, holding Jake down by his head. Jake had been crying, but now looked desperately at the Wraith. 

“Well, look who’s here. The pussy of Coldwind Farms, come to free the dogs. Is that it?” Trapper laughed before shoving himself up, holding out his weapon. Jake tried to roll away, but he’d been hogtied. Humiliation painted his face. “So, what’s the speech this time?” Evan asked. 

Philip heard Quentin take a shuddering breath. The survivor was staring up at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, mid-sob. The tiniest flicker of hope ignited in his gaze. Philip felt a flare of protectiveness well in his chest at the sight. It made him feel guilt too. Agonizing guilt, that he’d failed to keep his promise. Anger followed. Anger he'd always tried to hold back on when it came to Evan. A poor lost soul who wasn't so poor or lost anymore. He was just a beast. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Philip finally said. 

Evan paused, obviously shocked. A loud laugh left him. “You’re fucking kiddin’ me. Alright then. I’ll enjoy gutting you before taking my reward back. I always love a rough fuck after a blood bath.”

Jake and Quentin both flinched when he said that. Philip growled and charged before Trapper could take the first hit. It was enough of a surprise that his skull bounced off Evan’s head, stunning him. But that was it. The veins in Evan’s neck flared with orange. The next thing he knew, Evan’s fist was crashing into his face at blinding speed. The Wraith crashed back into the ground, but rolled onto his feet, ignoring the headache behind his eyes. He needed to get Evan out into the hall, away from the delicate bodies under their feet. He wondered where Susie was. Even if he died, the others would help. 

“I’ll have to teach you a lesson, you incessant fuck,” Evan charged forward, but not with his blade. 

Philip grunted as he was hit in the chest by a shoulder. At least they were out in the hall, but Evan was straddling him with impossible strength. He had dropped his cleaver, or he didn’t want to use it. Two fists clenched together. He raised them over his head. Philip could only blink before they came crashing down between his eyes. The pain was horrible. He heard bone shift in his nasal area. Azaroth’s Skull struck blindly out, but Trapper merely grunted against the blow. His fist came down again. And again. Philip begged Quentin for forgiveness, whispering the words as blood filled his mouth. 

He felt weak. He felt horribly useless. Evan literally crushed him, laughing as Philip’s arms fell at his side. They twitched, wanting to push back, but unable. 

Crack! Crack! Crack! 

Philip begged The Entity with his last conscious thoughts. Begged the being to take away Evan’s gifts, and give the survivors back to the others. Begged the deity to take whatever it wanted from him. Philip would do anything to fulfill his promise. 

Evan kept beating his face. Philip lost his sight. Lost his ability to speak. And still, he begged. The Entity slowly filled his dying thoughts, laughing in mirth at how his skull cracked open. 

Neglecting your duties… rallying my killers… causing such a ruckus… Even with a reason to kill, you still fail me...

Philip was dying. He felt it. The familiar cold tendrils that crept into his body, towards his slowing heart. The Entity curled around him - a deadly embrace. But before he went under, the deity whispered one last thing to him:

Enjoy your new home.

Quentin was frozen stiff against the wall. All he saw was Trapper’s broad back, muscles bunching as he punched The Wraith, over and over and over again. He swallowed a wave of vomit, each crunch of bone sending nausea through him. 


Quentin snapped his head to the side. Jake was looking at him desperately. He must have been trying to get his attention for a while. A look of pure relief washed over his face as he jerked his head towards the doorway. Trapper’s cleaver was sitting by his side. Enticing. 

Quentin shook his head, too scared to get close. Jake pleaded with him, too scared to use words and be loud, jerking his chin down to the ropes keeping him bound. Quentin nodded, even though he wasn’t sure he could even stand. But he did. On terrified legs, twitching with every crunch of bone and gore. Philip’s thrashing was getting slower. They had no more time. That thought finally got Quentin carefully crawling over, grabbing the red-slicked weapon from the oblivious Trapper. It was heavy in his hands. An evil tool that he’d met his end with too many times to count. Quen took it to Jake, using the savage edge to cut away the rope. 

As soon as Jake was free, he grabbed Quentin and gave him a fierce hug. Quen froze before falling into it, crying. He wanted to carry Jake through the hall and up to the street, but Evan had the hall blocked. They were free, but they couldn’t run. 

Now what? Quentin thought hopelessly. He got his answer when the beating stopped. Evan stood up, and Quentin did the same, holding the blade in his hands. He was shaking so bad, he almost dropped it. Tears fled his eyes as he kept the tip pointed at the killer’s chest. Jake stood up and grabbed Quentin from behind. 

“You suddenly get a pair of balls?” Trapper asked, stalking forward without fear. Quentin cried out as the blade end was grabbed. Uncaring of his sliced fingers, Trapper ripped it free and then swatted Quentin across the face. He fell, Jake softening his landing before scrambling in front of him. Quentin gripped his arm. 

“Don’t hurt him!” Jake said. “I’ll go with you, I won’t fight, just don’t hurt him!” 

“No, Jake-!”

“Shut up! Both of you!” Trapper barked. "I don't have time for this. We're leaving. Now."

Jake was harshly tugged to his feet. Trapper tucked him under his arm like a sack, pinning his limbs. The survivor could only kick his legs, but didn’t do much more than a feeble struggle. He snatched Quentin by the collar. The fabric was still around his neck, but the leash was only a few feet now. Trapper wrapped it around his fist several times. 

“You’re lucky I need you alive, you little shit,” Evan spat. “Otherwise, I’d have stuck that steel down your throat.” 

Quentin only whimpered, ducking his head. He had to close his eyes when Trapper stepped over The Wraith. The killer had fought to defend him. He had hope for a fleeting moment. And now it was a bloody mess beneath him. He followed the killer up the ladder. Evan took a moment to survey their surroundings when they reached the surface. He and Jake locked eyes for a moment. 

I’m so sorry, Jake mouthed. He looked agonized. Broken. 

Quentin almost shook his head, shocked that Jake would say that in the first place. Instead, he mouthed: I missed you. 

I missed you too, so much. 

Quentin wanted to say more. But Trapper was roughly shoving him towards the towering pillars of the exit gate. He was terrified to go with the killer. Terrified of lagging, and waking up again to a horror show. Evan took no more than two steps before something whistled through the air. Jake let out a shocked yelp. A hatchet had buried itself in the shoulder opposite of him - one of the Huntress’. He heard her familiar grunt as another hatchet flew. Trapper ducked. The reeving of a chainsaw followed behind her. 

“What in the fucking hell…” Trapper muttered in disbelief. 

He grabbed Quentin and lifted him over his shoulder, sprinting into the forest with the two survivors. Behind them, the hatchets stopped flying, but The Hillbilly was gaining fast. Trapper ran through the exit gate and into the trees. The chainsaw clinked behind them, unable to dodge the thick cluster of trunks. 

“Shit, if I didn’t have my hands full,” Trapper growled. He took a sharp turn. Quentin’s world spun. He felt sick. Trapper was gripping him too tightly and his ribs had begun to ache. He was sure there’d be bruises. Below him, Jake was grunting in the same discomfort. 

“Evan! Are you running away, you coward?!” 

Quentin didn’t recognize the voice. A woman’s voice. Young, maybe even a teenager. Jake’s head jerked up, though, and he called out to her. 

“Susie! Over here! We’re here- gah!” 

Trapper stopped, throwing Jake into the grass. The survivor screamed one last time for Susie before he was stomped in the head. He called out again, but when his head was kicked, he went limp, his eyes flickering before rolling over. Quentin, still in Trapper’s grip, cried out for him, sobbing. 

“Shut the fuck up and don’t move.” 

Trapper shoved Quentin beside Jake, removing a hunting knife from his belt and shoving it clean through the boy’s hand. He screamed, tugging at the handle, but the earth was cold and hard. The blade hurt too much to tug at. It sliced through his tendons and flesh. He begged Jake to wake up and pull it out for him, half delirious with pain and fear. Jake was limp beside him. 

Trapper headed towards the sound of crashing underbrush. The chainsaw reeved again, closer this time. Quentin tried again to pull out the blade. It only made him bite clean into the side of his mouth. So he shook Jake, begging him to wake up. The Huntress was shouting. She sounded in pain, angry. Too close. 

“Jake, p-please, please,” Quentin begged. “Wake up. Please, wake up.”

Jake only groaned. His hand twitched and he went still again. Soft hands suddenly touched Quentin’s shoulders. He yelped, pulling away, crying as his hand was cut into a little more. 

“No, no, it’s okay. But we have to move fast, while he’s distracted.” 

It was that woman’s voice. He looked up to an unfamiliar face, framed with familiar pink hair. He blinked up at the killer. One of The Legion. He froze, unsure and confused. She was telling him that it was going to hurt. 

What was going to hurt? 

She pressed down on his hand and yanked out the blade. Quentin sucked in a scream at the burn of the slice. Susie helped him to his feet, before grabbing Jake. She threw him over her shoulder. 

“They’ll keep him distracted. You just keep close and I’ll get you both to safety.”

Can I trust her? “You’re w-with The Wraith?” 

“Philip, yes. I’m guessing he’s dead. We can meet him back at his farm.”

Quentin nodded. He wanted to go back to the campfire, but she had Jake. And he was bleeding all over the place. His head hurt. He felt fuzzy. Susie’s voice was distorted in his head. 




Susie cursed. The Hillbilly gave a scream of pain. Quentin was wobbling in front of her, eyes unfocused. It would slow her down, but she picked him up too. They were both heavy, just enough to make her steps a little more laborious, as she ran through the woods. She heard the cry of death behind her. She couldn’t pinpoint the owner. She was too far away. 

That was good. Evan would have a harder time following them. She tripped on a root. Susie righted herself and kept pushing. Something cold pushed on her mind. 

Same as him… still rebelling, even after your punishments… you’re a child, aren’t you? 

Susie ignored the voice. The Entity didn’t matter. Just Jake and Quentin. She had to get them far away from that monster. The deity seemed annoyed by her. Its voice grew heavy in her head. 

A child, throwing a tantrum. Choosing its prey over its pack. 

Susie refused to acknowledge the voice. She didn’t hear anyone behind them. Still, she kept running. 

Fine then. Join him. 

Susie’s knees buckled. She gasped, feeling the air leave her lungs. She hit the ground. The survivors rolled out of her grip, onto the ground. Qunetin was gasping for air. He was pale. Susie tried to get up, but her limbs wouldn’t work. The Entity was pushing down on her. Her mind flared with pain, like it was being crushed. She gasped, and then the forest was quiet. 

Her body was gone. Jake and Quentin had disappeared alongside her. All that was left, was Susie’s knife and the trail of blood leading to it. 

Dwight’s panic came in waves. It was easier to manage if Ghostface was giving him something to do. Dwight only knew how to sexually please. It was what he was trained for. He could suck Ghostface’s cock and fall into a calm head space. He’d think of nothing but getting his owner off. The daze could last for hours if he was in a good spot. But then there were times (in the middle of the night, speaking out of turn, or after his new master let him cum) where Dwight’s heart would skyrocket with fear. 

His real Master would be furious when he found out he was letting another killer touch him. Master would break his bones. Flay his skin. Tell him how horrible and disloyal and slutty he was. And everytime he broke down, Ghostface would coo and wrap him up in those warm robes, petting him. Dwight sometimes took comfort in it, but most of the time, he just wore himself out until finally drooping into the embrace. Ghostface would always give him a kiss on the head and let him sleep. 

Dwight didn’t know how to feel about the killer. He was scary, yes. He liked to tease Dwight into a red-face and sometimes give him a fright, just for a snapshot of his expression. But he never struck him. Never cursed at him or called him dumb. And Dwight quite liked the pet names. But he didn’t want Ghostface to be the one saying them, he realized. He wanted it to be Jake. He looked down at his lap, face twisting up with slight grief. He missed sleeping with Jake, curled up by his side. Missed his woodsy scent. Dwight gasped as a finger grabbed his chin, dragging him from his day dreams and into reality. Ghostface stared down at him, a knowing smirk on his lips. Dwight flushed, as if caught doing something naughty. 

“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” Danny cooed. “Why don’t I help you relax. Come here, baby boy.” 

Dwight was picked up and bundled against a chest. He didn’t fight back. He was pliable and obedient, letting Ghostface set him on the bed where he wanted. Dwight’s feet hung off the edge. He was in his pajamas. Another thing he quite liked about this place. Even after the clothes came off, he always got them back. They made him feel safe. 

“I want to try something, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that, Dwight?” Ghostface asked. 

Dwight nodded, nervous. 

“Good boy. My good boy. Now take off your clothes.”

Dwight did as he was told. He had to repeat in his head that his shirt and pants would be returned, folding them up before handing them over. He was eyeing the blindfold Ghostface already had in his grip. A familiar black slip of fabric that his new owner liked using on him during blowjobs. Dwight didn’t like the dark very much, but he couldn’t refuse. So he closed his eyes, head up as he was blinded. 

Ghostface gave him a kiss for being so good. He was laid back against the mattress, head on the pillows. The killer had him spread his limbs out. Dwight waited in tense silence until his owner returned and tied them to each bed post. He was petted and praised as he was strung up. The cuffs on his wrists and ankles were velcro - something he hadn’t seen in a long time. Something easy to break out of if he really wanted to, but could pull on without snapping. 

“There we go. What a pretty sight,” Ghostface’s voice floated around him. He was walking around the bed. Dwight flushed, feeling like a moth under a pin. A hand brushed his chest. “You’ve been nothing but a doll since I got you. I think you deserve a reward. Just relax, baby. Focus on me, making you feel good.” His mouth had lowered by Dwight’s ear. 

The survivor shivered. He was nervous, yes, but with Ghostface’s track record, he allowed himself the hope that this really would feel good. That there were no surprises. No pain. He wished he had his eyesight, but slaves couldn’t be choosers. He flinched when a hand touched his thigh. But it wasn’t a hand, it was cold. It felt solid, and the weight pressed lower until it touched his flaccid cock. Fingers gently grabbed his shaft. He swallowed a whine as two straps were circled and tightened around his shaft. One near the base and one near the head. His dick drooped, something slightly heavy attached it to the straps. A hand settled on his thigh. 

“I’ll start it low. Just tell me if it’s too much, baby… or if you want more.”

Something clicked. Dwight almost choked on his own spit. The thing on his cock began to hum. It vibrates at a low frequency, sending immediate pleasure through the area. His hips thrust. The sensation was so immediate, it flushed his gut with cold, nervous stimulation. It felt good, like itching a scratch he’d ignored for so long. 

“O-oh, oh g-god,” Dwight practically drooled. He felt the bed dip as Ghostface climbed over him. His hands massaged his thighs, unknotting the tension coiling around his muscles. The vibrator’s frequency was turned up a few notches. 

“W-wait,” Dwight cried out before he could stop himself. A bolt of terror went through him, and he cringed, expecting to be struck. Instead, the frequency went down, to just a steady, gentle pulse. Dwight’s too-quick-too-much orgasm faded from hitting its peak and his body sagged back into the sheets. He was sweating, shaking. 

“I-I’m s-s-s-sorry,” he whimpered, still scared he did bad. He received a kiss on the lips. It was slow and deep. A tongue licked across his lips before words were breathed over them. 

“Shhhh,” Ghostface shushed him. “You’re doing so good. I love it when you’re open with me. When you tell me exactly how you feel. You can keep doing that, can’t you baby?”

Dwight just nodded, biting his lip. 

“Say, ‘Yes, Daddy’ for me.”

Dwight’s whole upper half went red. The last time he said it, he was swamped in ecstasy, too lost to really know what he was saying. But he still said it, because his owner wanted it. 

“Y-yes, D-d-daddy.”

Ghostface gave a wicked grin that Dwight couldn’t see - like a predator closing in on its prey. He traced his teeth along the survivor’s neck, listening intently to how his breath quaked and shuddered. The vibrator hummed below him. Ghostface turned it up slightly. The effect was immediate. Dwight tensed under him. Ghostface was rock hard from the image alone, but he still refrained from opening up Dwight’s ass and fucking him. He wanted to be patient. He wanted Dwight to ask, even if sometimes, it seemed like his pet would never make that kind of progress. But they had all the time in the world, didn’t they? Until then…

Danny pushed open Dwight’s legs a little more. They had tried to twist together around the vibrator. The killer tutted, and Dwight stopped resisting immediately. Danny chuckled. He told him was doing good and kissing all the way up to his chest. The vibrator went up another notch. Muscles spasmed under Danny’s touch. He enjoyed every quiver of tendons, and pull of his joints. Trying to escape, but not consciously. It was too cute. 

He grabbed the vibrator and slid it down lower. Closer towards his balls. The other hand gently stroked his head, while he continued kissing and licking his chest. Dwight was red-faced and panting. Perfect. Danny picked up his pace, jerking off his pet as he leaned back and slid out his camera. The shutter went off several times as Dwight’s back arched. He came with a desperate whine, trying and failing to curl in on himself. Danny tossed the camera on the bed, falling over the top of him and smothering his face his kisses. 

“So good for me. So, so good.”

Dwight was mumbled in between heavy breaths. “Th-thank-k y-you, D-daddy. Th-thank-k y-you f-for m-making m-me feel s-so g-good-d.” His words were half-sobs, layered with gratitude. Danny lapped them up. 

“Daddy will always make my baby boy feel good. I’ll take such good care of you. Nothing but love and care for my little Dwight.” 

Dwight buried his face in Danny’s chest, eyes screwed shut as he nodded fiercely. “Y-y-yes, p-p-please. Th-thank-k y-you, th-thank y-you…” Dwight kept singing Danny’s praises, lost in the afterglow of his high and the simple relief of no pain. 

“Would you like to sit on my lap while I clean my tools?” Danny asked. 

Dwight nodded, probably because he expected it was what his owner wanted. Danny grinned, gave him another kiss, and started to undo his straps. He kept the blindfold on, enjoying leading Dwight around himself. He carried him to his desk and tucked him in against his stomach. While he worked on his knives, he scratched Dwight’s head, wondering to himself all the while: 

How did I get so lucky?

Chapter Text

Evan woke up in his estate, under a hole-littered roof and a cold draft against his now whole body. He had died. It had been in an instant. A simple slip of his foot when he saw that pink-haired bitch carrying his pet and his key away. Evan rubbed at his head. It still ached where the chainsaw had buried into his skull. His body had been torn so badly at that point, and nothing yet healed….

The Trapper cursed himself for his stupidity, stomping to his feet, screaming at the top of his lungs as if Philip and his friends could hear him. He’d kill them all. Over and over and over again. Evan was going to make them pay. But he realized that he no longer felt the flooding of power and strength he’d been gifted. He quickly turned his hands over, staring at the veins that no longer glowed orange. He growled again, this time cursing The Entity and demanding that he be returned his power.

“I need that serum, dammit! I need it to get to Dwight! I need my pet, don’t you understand?!” Evan snarled. The air around him grew cold. And still, the killer kept raving, his voice growing angrier. “He’s mine! He was stolen from me! He’s mine! Mine!” 


Evan stopped ranting. Ice had filtered through his body, stunning him both physically and mentally. He wasn’t scared, but he had enough sense to stop hollering. Though, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. The air settled, and the ice in his body thawed a little. The Entity didn’t manifest, but its presence could be felt permeating the entire estate. 

Like a child. Spoiled rotten, ungrateful to your god. 

Evan lowered his head. He knew he crossed a line. But anger still quivered through his limbs. He needed to go out and kill someone. He needed his pet back. The Entity felt his anger and prodded at it. Evan physically tried to swat at the mental claw. It stoked his fury and made him wonder why he wasn’t out, looking for Danny. He didn’t have to listen to this creature. He turned away, and made for the exit gates looming in the distance. 

A claw sprang from the earth, blocking him. Evan growled and swung at it. His blade buried halfway through the insect-like shell, igniting a shriek from the ground before several more claws uprooted themselves. They wrapped around Evan’s flailing limbs and began to sink. Evan’s legs were eaten by the ground. He fought furiously, refusing to be taken down like some mere mortal. But he’d forgotten who gave him all his power, and The Entity was going to remind him of it. Permanently. 

Evan was suffocated by dirt. He refused to scream or panic. He stoically let it happen, his mask and weapon gone by the time he was spit back from the ground. Evan tried not to reach up and touch his scarred, vulnerable face. He hated being unmasked if he wasn’t at home. And what’s worse, it looked like he’d been dropped into a familiar street - Lampkin Lane. 

“Fuck…” Evan muttered, standing up, judging his surroundings warily. 

He knew The Entity was going to punish him, but he had thought the deity would do it itself. This… this was much worse than he could have imagined. He felt the first dredges of panic crawling up his spine. It was more annoying than anything. Evan would never be able to live down being humiliated by Michael, of all people. 

He began to stalk down the road, towards the exit gates, despite knowing it wouldn’t help. He saw the flicker of movement well before he reached them. Michael’s white mask peered at him from near one of the houses. He was like a statue. Evan stared back, waiting, an insult on the tip of his tongue. He threw his arms out and took a step forward. 

“Come on then, fucker! This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? A chance to swing back after the mess I made of ya?” 

Micheall disappeared. Evan sneered and crossed his arms, tapping his foot when the other killer finally emerged from the bushes and started towards him. Evan braced his fists, ready to fight back. The Entity may have made him weak, but he wasn’t going to make this easy for Michael. He growled as the killer got closer. 

Michael’s knife was practically vibrating in his hand. It was the only show of anger that Evan had ever seen in the stalker. And it was aimed at him. As subtle as it was, it was a bit unsettling to see Michael show any display of emotion outside his stoicism. Evan just snarled and tried to grab at his arm as it swung down. He was surprised by how easily Micheal was able to just keep swinging like Evan’s grip held no weight. Like he’d been truly sapped of all his strength. He didn’t make a sound as the machete dug into his shoulder. 

If this was his punishment, so be it. He could grit his teeth through it. The Entity had done much worse to him than a few stabs. Though, based on how hard Michael was grabbing his neck, and the hoarse, near ragged breathing, he’d never heard from the other killer, Evan figured he was in for something a little more creative. He grinned. 

“Well go ahead and throw your tantrum, boy,” he had to force the words out through Michael’s fingers. He might very well die of asphyxiation before anything bad happened. He laughed again. “Ain’t got an ounce of self control either, do ya?”

Michael snorted angrily, but his grip loosened and fell away. Evan was going to make a joke about him being a good boy and listening to authority figures, until he was being hauled over a shoulder. They  were both large, bulky men, and it made for an awkward and humiliating walk through the park. 

He snarled again, all humor lost. He wasn’t going to be disgraced - to be carried around like a fucking, sniveling survivor. He didn’t bother with words. He kicked and thrashed and bit and clawed with every bit of strength he had. He didn’t even leave marks. It was embarrassing. Evan found himself hating this punishment more and more. He sent a few curses The Entity’s way and stopped struggling. 

“What’s the plan, boy?” Evan asked. “You gonna gut me? Flay me alive? Carve me out, bit by bit? I can give ya a few helpful tips about keeping your victim alive if ya need it. I know that empty head a’yours doesn’t know anything but stabbing your sister. Probably in more ways than one, am I right?”

It didn’t get a rise out of Michael like he hoped. The killer astutely ignored him until they reached one of the homes, where he was deposited on the floor in one of the living rooms. He stomped to his feet, watching Michael as he locked all the doors. 

“I ain’t a fucking coward. I won’t run. Now hurry up and start this fucking thing so we can get it over with. I have trials I need to win.”

Michael paused from shutting a window and turned. He never spoke. Evan wasn’t sure if he could. It grated on his nerves, and he sneered, while the other just stared for what felt like ages. Evan was about to shout at him to get going, when Michael brandished his knife and stalked forward. Even how he walked was annoyingly slow. He couldn’t fathom how he won in trials 

Jesus lord, this fucker thinks he can intimidate, does he? I ain’t a damn survivor.

Then the knife was in his gut. The cut was fairly shallow. It hurt like a bitch, sure, but it wasn’t anything to cry over. The knife scraped upward against his ribcage.. He fell over onto his back, his weak body stunned by the attack. Blood poured around them. Evan enjoyed how warm it was. This house was fucking freezing. Michael probably didn’t know how to light a fireplace, dumbass. 

The knife stopped just along his sternum. Michael straddled him. Evan didn’t like that and tried to shove him off. He couldn’t even make the other slow down, so he fell back, letting it happen. The burn of the knife. Evan didn’t like being pinned, so he focused on the fiery, cold heat of the knife. He’d grown to almost enjoy pain, in a way. He admired it, respected it, and found great value in its existence. It wasn’t the most pleasant thing to be on the other end of, no, but it was just another part of his life. 

Michael shimmied down a bit. Evan looked up, having been lost in his head. Michael reached down and grabbed his torn overalls, tearing them open. Evan grabbed instinctively at his wrists, trying and failing to stop Michael as he yanked his only clothes from his body. The killer slid further down his legs, knife cutting as he went, stabbing into Evan’s thighs and legs with little regard for how he got the overalls off. Just that they did. Evan fought back. Not against the pain. Against the hands that gripped his now bare legs and forced off his boots. The grip was unrelenting - near bone-crushing. Evan had no chance, and was unwrapped until he was completely and utterly nude. 

Michael grabbed his wrists, dragging him across the stained carpet. Evan cursed him to damnation. Michael’s broad arms forced him to bend over the sharp corner of the couch's arm, his legs thrashing against the cushions, but pinned by Michael’s broad form. 

Evan realized, with a terrible start, that a little mirror had been hung up by the couch, his furious face reflecting back at him. Michael was over his body, still barely containing his trembling anger as he grabbed Evan’s hips and lifted them up. Fingers played roughly with the flesh of his ass, opening him up. Evan looked at anything but the mirror and focused on escape. Even if he couldn’t get away, it was better than laying here and taking it. 

“Fuck you, ya nasty bastard!” Evan growled. “Get your dirty hands off a’me! Get off a’me!” 

Michael ignored him. In the mirror, Evan could see Michael unzipping himself. A second later, something hot and hard pressed against his asshole. Without prep or warning, the horrible thing breached him. Evan jerked. A hand grabbed the back of his neck, nearly choking him as Michael held him still, shoving inside completely and ripping his insides as he went. Evan didn’t think it hurt enough. All he could focus on was how full he felt. The gut rolled in disgust, unable to ignore the scrap of the head as it popped out of his ass and rammed back in. 

“Fuck you! Fuck you, nasty cunt! I’ll tear you apart! I’ll rip your throat out!” 

Michael’s breaths evened out the more he thrust. He dug his nails into Evan’s skin, tearing and ripping and dripping more blood into the couch, adding more red to the rose patterned fabric. Evan’s head was yanked up. He closed his eyes, refusing to look in the mirror. The thrusting paused, and when Evan opened his eyes, he saw the silver gleam of the knife coming close to his face. 

The tip sunk into his left brow, jaggedly pushing down and slicing. Michael pressed all his weight down, his cuts becoming more precise and shallow. Evan’s eyelids were peeled off. The sloppy work left blood dripping down Evan’s face. He was forced to stare at his own mutilated expression, eyes wide and glimmering in hopeless rage. Michael continued to fuck him, holding his head in place. Besides Evan’s half-snarled breaths, there was only the sound of flesh against flesh filling the quiet house. Michael began to speed up. Evan’s chest was bruising against the couch’s arm, making it hard to breath as Michael slammed balls deep and came to a halt. Evan let out a choked, shocked noise as warmth coated his insides. Michael had actually cum inside him. 

“You… you fucking - you damned-” Evan seemed to have trouble finding the right insult. 

Michael slid out of him. His asshole gaped and clenched around empty air, the cum cooling where it dribbled down his blood thighs. Evan’s fingers were gripping the couch so hard, he couldn’t feel them anymore. All he could think, was that the fucking was done. He felt nothing but impatient relief as he was thrown heavily onto the floor. Michael’s knife was poised over him. Evan just sneered. 

“Fuck you.” He spat, eyeing the blade. Michael was hesitating. That annoyed Evan terribly. “Fuck you, cunt! KIll me already!” 

Michael’s head tilted. He was silent. Evan kept screaming at him, trying to goad him into attacking. But Michael wasn’t paying him any mind. Evan realized The Entity was in the killer’s head, speaking with him. Michael nodded. His knife lowered. Evan didn’t like that. Nor did he like Michael standing over him, grappling for his arms and trying to restrain him. He used the cut straps of his own overalls to tie his wrists and ankles. 

He was grabbed by the legs and dragged across the living room. Evan struggled, but soon found himself bumping down the wooden stairs of the basement. Fog was rolling over the cold, concrete floor. Whispers of death and pain begin to fill his ears - a white noise down in this realm. Michael hefted Evan under the basement hooks. Instead of spearing his shoulder, like Evan anticipated, one of his wrists were stabbed through. He just grunted as he was let go. Blood spurted down his arms. His body hung a little lopsided. Michael grabbed his hips and pressed up behind him. A knife began to dig into the back of his shoulders. At the same time, an impatient cock shoved back into his hole. Evan was more aware of it than his ruined wrist. He ground his teeth together. It didn’t help. 

The Entity was in his head again, laughing at him. Evan jerked in surprise. The voice of his father had suddenly began laughing along with it. He shook his head, but it didn’t dislodge the voices. A hand cupped his mouth. The voices finally left, but fingers were invading his mouth, rubbing against his tongue. When he attempted to snap them in half, his jaw felt like it was too weak to make any kind of damage. 

Michael finger fucked his mouth as he ruined his ass, still cutting with his knife. Evan had a horrible suspicion that something was being written. He snarled again and tried to thrash. The flesh in his wrist just tore a little. He didn’t give a fuck. After another few minutes, Michael finished with his cutting and grabbed Evan by the biceps, pulling down. Evan’s hand came off, the flesh pulling apart at the bone and snapping. He took a sharp breath through his nose, but was otherwise just relieved that Michael’s dick slipped out of his ass. He was manhandled onto his knees. He bared his teeth when the wet cock waved in front of his face. No way was he letting that thing in his mouth. 

But Michael wasn’t trying to push past his lips. He held Evan still by his scalp. The knife’s tip was leveled with his right eye, stabbing viciously through the socket with little preamble. Evan finally let out tiny, pained breaths as the blade scrambled around his head and scraped his skull. It goaded Michael on. The knife withdrew, then plunged back in. It twisted, carving out the dripping mess. Only then did Michael grab his cock, and line it up with Evan’s newly made hole. 

“You nasty fuck-” Evan’s insults came to a hissing halt as the head of the dick pushed past his socket. 

It felt disgusting. Even more so as it squished past the rim of his socket and slid into his skull, pressing against torn matter and threads of optical nerves. Evan could feel the shape of the cock. It made his stomach lurch. 

His other eye snapped closed. He didn’t see the knife rush forward to gouge it out too. As he craved away another hole, Michael pumped his hips. He pressed as deep as the thickness of his cock would allow. 

It became a hard squeeze halfway down the shaft, but still Michael pushed onward. Dropping his knife behind him and grabbing ahold of Evan’s head. He was relentless. Evan’s breaths became a bit labored when something cracked. It ran through his whole head like a hot white flash. Pure agony. Then the cock slid in another few inches deeper. Then out. Then in. Out. In. Out. In. 

Michael yanked free and dove into his other socket. He shoved until it produced the same result. A crack that had Evan biting back a pained moan. Michael seemed to be getting off to every tiny noise that slipped free. When Evan grunted against a particulary sharp crack, Michael grunted too. His body stuttered to a halt, balls pressing against Evan's face as he came. Warm gushed against his scrambled insides. He tried to fruitlessly pull back. It was too much. The cum filling his head made him want to scratch off his own skin. 

Michael yanked himself free. Evan had only a moment to gather himself before he was being yanked back up. Michael cock was hard again. Or maybe it never softened. It sunk right back into his ragged holes. He fucked Evan until his skull was literally full of his cum. Only then, when it dripped from his nose, and ears and down his chin, making his head too heavy to hold up properly, did The Entity let his body die. Evan fell back onto the floor. His heart gave a few fluttering beats, failing just as Michael unloaded a final cum shot onto his broken face. 


He was back in his realm. He was in overalls, mask and cleaver in hand, standing under the shade of the trees.  Cum still leaked from his nose. His shoulder blades stung. Rage filled him, that The Entity left these marks on him. Marks of a lesser killer. Evan wiped at his nose furiously, feeling like a disgusting piece of filth as the deity asked him if he still wanted to be defiant. 

You’re lazy. Stupid. If you even want to think of seeing your human again, you’ll sacrifice for me. Appease me. Feed me. And you’ll do it well. 

“Yes,” Evan said automatically.

With The Entity’s words, came an immense sense of relief. He still had a chance to get his pet back. Nothing mattered to him but that. Not even being brought to his knees by a lesser killer and fucked like some whore. His pride was wounded. But he could lick his wounds later. A horrible longing for Dwight hit him, and he wished he could simply go home to his pet and demand a massage and blowjob. Instead, his home would be empty. He’d be alone with his thoughts. He hated how much that realization affected him. 

He forced his head up, despite the oppressive weight over the area. He didn’t want to look completely weak. “I understand. I won’t fail you.”

Then prove it. 

The weight lifted. Not all the way. The Entity was watching from the edge of the sky, breath bated as the estate changed from Evan’s home, into his hunting grounds. Gens were pushed from the earth and hooks bloomed like flowers, the ash around it falling away as the trial started. Evan was on his feet, cleaver in his hand, as he marched out into the sparse woods. 

No one would survive the trial. Evan would not fail The Entity. He would not lose Dwight. 

Danny had to do something about the brand. Every time he played with his pet, he’d forget it was there, grabbing a handful of ass and feeling the raised line of scars - a reminder of his previous owner. The Entity healed wounds quickly, but left terrible marks in their place. Obvious, annoying marks. 

The killer wasn’t sure how to go about getting rid of the scar. He definitely didn’t want to kill Dwight. Not only would that ruin what little progress he’d made in regards to trust, but it could very well reset Dwight back into Evan’s territory. So it was how he found himself mixing hot water with a packet of cocoa mix. It was several months past its expiration date, but Dwight wouldn’t know that. Neither would he know about the extra bit of white powder under the dark brown. His little pet would be out like a light as soon as he drank it. 

He took the steaming mug to the bed. Dwight was still curled up in the covers. While he liked seeing him there, Danny had wanted to teach him how to start developing photos in his red room, as well as how to clean his equipment. Danny had several kinds of cameras he’d been gifted, but the digital one was less likely to break during trials. He thought it might be fun to start using some of the older stuff, and show Dwight how to use it too. 

But first…

“Dwightie, you awake?” Danny cooed, sliding up beside him. 

Dwight peeked up from the sheets. His glasses were set aside, and he blinked owlishly up at his owner. Danny tapped his nose and asked if he wanted a treat. Dwight’s face lit up, even if he didn’t smile, and he nodded. Always polite, his pet thanked him before taking a sip. The killer had made sure it wasn’t too hot to drink, and soon, Dwight had finished the mug with an embarrassed belch. Danny just chuckled and rubbed his shoulder, gently easing him back into the pillows. 

“Go back to sleep, baby boy.” 

Dwight nodded, eyes already closing. Danny kept petting him until his breath grew heavier and turned to soft snores. The killer counted to one hundred in his head before giving Dwight a shake. 

“Dwight? Hey. Get up.” 

Dwight’s head lolled against the pillow. Danny gave him a heartier shake, but it produced the same result. The ex-survivor was out like a light. He didn’t wake up even when he was manhandled against Danny’s chest, carried out of the room, and into the hallway. 

Most of the doors in the apartment building were locked. Danny had never been able to get inside. But several opened after he learned how to play the trials, and earned his rank as one of The Entity’s favorite killers. Like his red room, or the library, with detailed handbooks on photography, equipment, and tips. Things that, though Danny’s ego would never admit to it, were incredibly helpful to honing his craft. His victims had never looked better on film. 

Danny pushed into one of the rooms at the end of the hall- one he’d imagined using on the survivors more than once. Especially that annyoing, fucking brit. It was a torture chamber.

Danny would never bring Dwight in here if he’d been awake. But it was the only room with all the tools he needed, straps to hold Dwight down, and a grate at his feet for any dripping blood. It’d be easier to do it here than anywhere else, and avoid the effort of a clean up. 

He took his pet’s clothes and folded them in the corner. Draping Dwight over the table in the middle of the room, he positioned him on his stomach and arranged his arms so they’d slid into the leather straps at each corner. Dwight kept snoring away, cheek to cold metal, unbothered in his sleep. 

Danny still gave his forehead a soothing stroke before he went to look at the array of blades on the wall. They overlooked some more gruesome tools on the workbench. Chains and restraints of all varieties decorated the place like tinsel during Christmas time. Danny chuckled at the thought of Dwight’s face upon waking up to this, but tried not to entertain the idea of actually letting him and snapping a candid photo in the process. 

Don’t be impulsive. Think long term. Long term. Long term. 

Danny calmed himself and took a flat, short blade into his hands. Dwight was just so easy to frighten. It charmed him in a way none of the other survivors had been able to. Danny caressed the knife as he rounded the table. He cupped the ruined flesh of Dwight’s ass. The scarring was ugly, but precise. Evan had drawn a clear symbol of a bear trap with an artist’s hand. Danny tapped his chin, trying to figure out how to make another image out of the trap. One that could represent Ghostface. 

But he’d never been good at drawing, and eventaully said fuck it, before carving an ‘X’ over the symbol. His tongue stuck out as he wrote (in crude lettering) D.J. He made sure to cut deep. Blood poured down his hands, hitting the stone like raindrops. Dwight would feel it when he woke up, but by then, Danny would have him bandaged up tight with an explanation that his scar tissue had somehow opened up. It’s not like Dwight would ever see his own ass anyway. He might not even bring up the pain. The poor thing was too scared to complain. 

Cleaned up and back in his own clothes, his pet was taken back to their room and tucked into bed. Danny stood at the edge of the bed for a long time. He stared at Dwight’s face, after having watched the rise and fall of his chest as if in a trance. Dwight looked incredibly at ease - so unaware - and it made Danny’s gut flutter with a want to touch. 

He swooped low and fell over the top of Dwight, wrapping him up in his arms and legs. Danny pressed his nose into the crook of his shoulder, and just sniffed. He had done that alot in the real world. Smelling his target’s clothing, or familiarizing himself with the scent of their room. He quite liked Dwight’s smell - under the iron and blood tang of The Trapper. Danny’s stomach lurched in disgust. 

Danny still worried about Evan. But he couldn’t find his way here. No killer had ever come to visit him, even if they were upset about a violent prank. Only Danny knew how to get home. He was safe here. He told that to himself as he kept smelling Dwight, holding him like a stuffed bear. He had his obsession, tucked away and impossible to take, in his arms. Danny had to keep touching his body to remind himself that he had what he wanted. Needed.

Danny promised himself that he’d never lose to that overgrown dunce. He daydreamed of all the ways he’d kill Evan. He got lost in thoughts of stabbing the man, of strangling him, of setting him on fire…. He blinked when Dwight shifted in his arms.

At first, he thought he’d woken up. But his pet was mumbling breathy words, eyes still shut and face twisted like he was having a dream - and not a particularly pleasant one. The new wounds and their pain might be causing it. Danny held him to his chest as he started to squirm. Dwight’s words got louder, more clear. 

 “I-I’m s-s-sor-r-r-ry! S-s-sorry, M-mast-t-ter!” 

Danny shushed him, even if he couldn’t hear, pinning his arms which had begun to frantically pull at the sheets. 

“It’s okay, baby, you’re not in trouble. You’re okay,” Danny cooed. 

He ran his fingers up and down his pet’s back, under his shirt. Dwight stopped struggling, but was shivering. Sweat had built up along his neck. His face was scrunched in fearful anticipation. He kept mumbling for forgiveness under his breath. He kept using Evan’s title too. Like he still owned him. Of course, Evan was so full of himself that he’d force a slave to address him like a king. The conceited bastard. 

“M-mas-s-ster! Pl-lease, I-I’m g-g-good-d-d! I’m g-g-g-ood!”

Danny kept rubbing, tucking Dwight’s head under his chin so he could more firmly hold him. He closed his eyes, tired himself. He just wanted to relax while he could. He hadn’t been called to a trial in a while. He knew The Entity was probably entertained by his games, and that Evan was causing a spectacular show at the moment. One he was kinda disappointed to miss out on. But he knew how the deity worked. Soon, it’d want to go back to its precious games and rules. 

Danny grinned, shushing Dwight again as he begged his Master not to hurt him. When the trials did start up, he couldn’t wait to be greeted to this sweet face afterwards. In the meantime, he enjoyed his reprieve. 


Dwight was in the basement. Where he went when he messed up badly. It was cold and dark and his Master was mad at him. Dwight was crying, unable to move his arms. He was restrained! He was gonna be tortured and mutilated and torn apart, because he’d been a horrible pet.

“I-I’m s-sorry! P-ple-e-ease!” He begged. 

“It’s okay,” a sleepy voice slipped through his panic. “Shhh. I got you, baby boy.”

Dwight froze in confusion, having expected Master’s voice. And what he thought was the weight of a collar, was a hand massaging the nape of his neck. Ghostface, or Danny, or Daddy or whatever else he wanted to be called, was holding him. Dwight remembered where he was. 

The dream came back to him. Master had been so upset over his running away. But… Dwight hadn’t asked to come here. He had only ran with Jake because he was scared. There had been fighting, and blood, and so many scary strangers, popping from the fog like flies to meat. Then Ghostface took him. By force. Master had to understand that it wasn’t his fault. He had to. But he wouldn’t. He’d never listen to Dwight. And the thought alone sent him into another fit, sobbing into Ghostface’s chest and trying to hide his face. 

“Shush, it’s okay.” 

Ghostface never raised his voice, or got angry. Sometimes Dwight felt truly grateful for it. Other times, the strangeness and unfamiliarity of it made him want to curl up in a ball and hide. He actually missed his Master. His real Master. Even if this one was nice, he loved and worshipped his old one. The idea of Master looking for him, upset, made shivers run down Dwight’s spine. He needed forgiveness. He needed to go back and make things right again. Otherwise, he thought he’d die of the constant anxiety and fear. 

But he’d never tell Ghostface this. He knew the mention of his Master wasn’t a subject to be broached. It wasn’t a slave’s place to ask, and it might be a trigger for anger. But the question was on the tip of his tongue. He wondered what would happen if he just asked. 

He sniffled into the killer’s robes then looked up. Ghostface was looking down at him already, half asleep but waking up. Dwight opened his mouth, then shut it, reburying his face. He heard a soft laugh as fingers grabbed at his chin. He was forced to look up this time, and held there. 

“Bad dreams?” The killer asked. Dwight floundered like a fish for a moment. Ghostface just chuckled and rubbed his cheek, pressing him close to his chest. “It’s okay. They’re just dreams. Not a soul can reach you here.”

Dwight nodded in blind agreement. His owner seemed to understand that he was still shaken though. 

“Dwight. I think you need something to take your mind off things. Why don’t you get your hood?”

Dwight nodded again, even if he didn’t want to get up. Ghostface liked having the mask if Dwight was giving him a blowjob. He got up and walked towards the oak dresser, where restraints and toys were stashed. Dwight hadn’t liked them at first, but none had hurt. And his owner really enjoyed using them. He grabbed the leather mask folded in the corner.

He told himself to forget his dreams.  All that mattered right now was making sure that his master’s orders were carried out. A blow job was simple. Easy. The mask was a bother, but Dwight had been through worse. 

He knelt at the edge of the bed as he handed it over, letting Ghostface pull the leather hood over his head before zipping it closed. Dwight was blinded, mouth open and waiting, struggling to breath through the little nostril holes. Ghostface had him hop onto the bed, though. Dwight crawled up, led by guiding hands, in between opening legs. Dwight fumbled blindly through his robes before he pulled Danny’s cock free. 

“Good boy. You know what to do with it,” Ghostface said. “Make Daddy cum.”

Dwight took the head into his mouth. As soon as he did, he began to focus solely on his owner’s pleasure. Every gasp, breath, and moan was taken into account. He held desperately onto the task at hand. It was all he could do not to think of basements and the chains still holding him there.

Chapter Text

Jake didn’t move. He wasn’t sure he could, feeling completely aloof from his own body, yet painfully aware of every stick and scratchy leaf digging into his skin. He was laying on the ground. On his back, staring up at the interlocking branches of the dark trees. The ground wasn’t glowing orange. It was normal. So was the breeze. He was naked still, but his body didn’t hurt. He wanted to sink into that feeling. The feeling of nothing. Of no one. 


He didn’t look away from the sky. He didn’t want to. The voice called his name again, small and timid. He couldn’t pinpoint who it belonged to. He didn’t care. A hand pressed into his shoulder. The voice was followed by a face, pinched in worry and grief. It was Quentin. The numbness faded. He couldn’t not care about that face. The saboteur reached out and held onto the boy’s shoulders, dragging him down into another hug. He closed his eyes, tears hot and threatening to spill. Quentin hugged him back, helping him off the hard earth. Jake couldn’t wipe the memory of Quentin, helpless and terrified, back there. He had been raped by Trapper. He still couldn’t quite grasp that fact. 

“Where are we?” Jake asked weakly. 

“I… I think we’re… at camp,” Quentin said, though unsure. His worried glances had Jake sitting up, rubbing his head as a wave of vertigo washed over him. When it settled, he looked around. There was no fire, but they were in a forest that looked to grow around it. 

They were both naked, bloody and bruised. Quentin still had shredded fabric wrapped around his neck, chafing it raw.  

“Hey, Quen…” the saboteur said softly. “Let me get that thing off.” 

Jake wanted to ask if he was okay, but knew it was a pointless question. He was still reeling from Trapper nearly taking them both away. Jake’s hands shook almost violently as he tried to unknot the collar. Quentin had to take his grip and ease it away.

“I can get it… Jake, I…” 

Both of them lapsed into silence again. Jake still felt numb. There was a small part of him that felt broken up about Michael leaving him like that. The killer had been nowhere in sight when Trapper broke down the door. Or afterwards…

“What happened?” Jake finally asked. 

“I don’t know.” Quentin wouldn’t look him in the eye. “The Trapper came… came to the camp, and t-took me. He said that… that I would be able to find you. In Myer’s realms…”

“He came to the actual camp? He took you?” Jake asked in disbelief. 

The boy gave a nod, legs unconsciously shuffling closer together. Jake’s stomach kept rolling. He wanted to cry, scream, yell. Yet his mind was humming with the buzz of exhaustion. He hated Trapper. He hated him more than anything. Wanted him to burn. But… at the moment… he had enough sense to be grateful that Quentin had escaped him. That he was here, instead of in chains. 

Quentin had finally loosened the fabric on his neck. He threw it aside with a shake of his hand, as if something foul had been left clinging to his fingers. He gave Jake a tired smile. His hands reached out, then hesitated. Now that the adrenaline had been drained of the situation, he looked nervous to touch bare skin. Jake brought him in for another hug. They stayed like that for several long moments. A few tears escaped Jake, who was grappling with the chaos this once predictable realm was drowning him in. 

“Can you walk?” Quentin asked, breaking the quiet. “We should find our way home…”

Jake nodded. It was a relief that the whole slave thing wasn’t being brought up. “You’re right.” 

He sat up, both the survivors leaning on each other as they stood on shaky legs. Neither was sure which direction to head towards. When survivors traveled the woods, they used the camp as a reference point. But if one got lost, all they had to do was walk in one direction, and they’d eventually loop back. 

“Maybe we’ll pass the shacks or Claude’s flowers, right? Something familiar,” Quentin reasoned. But he sounded scared that they’d stumble into another fresh hell. The saboteur warily eyed the trees. That didn’t sound too off the mark. They kept walking. No land marks or personal touches among the survivors were seen. Quentin’s grip got tighter around the other’s arm. He whimpered. 

“Jake…” he moaned, sounding despaired. “I don’t recognize any of these trees.”

He didn’t either. He told Quentin that they’d see something eventually. The glow of the fire, perhaps. They kept walking. The fire never appeared. Quentin shook in fear, while Jake’s heart clenched in cold dread, already cooking up a thousand horrible ends to, what he had thought was, an escape. 

Then, they came into a tiny clearing. Quentin gasped and took a step back. Jake stopped with him, narrowing his eyes. There was a chest in the middle of the clearing. Jake didn’t want to open it. But he knew that, if they walked away, it’d just re-grow in their path. Quentin shook his head when Jake made a motion forward. 

“W-wait! What if it’s something bad? I don’t want to be separated again!” 

Jake looked back and grabbed Quentin’s hand, giving him a firm squeeze. “We have to do what The Entity wants.”

“What it wants is always bad!” 

“I know… but it’s better to just go along with it. If we fight, it’ll punish us.”

Quentin’s face fell. Jake couldn’t pin-point the look passing in the boy’s face, but it looked tragic. Like he was witnessing something horrid.


Quentin shook his head. His face hardened. “N-nothing. If you think we should open it, then… okay. Just… don’t let go, okay? I don’t want to be separated,” he repeated. 

“I won’t.”

They knelt by the chest. Jake forced his hand not to shake as he opened the unlocked lid. He and Quen peered inside, both visibly surprised, but uncertain if they should be relieved or not. 

“Clothes?” Quentin asked. “It’s… letting us dress?” 

“I guess.” That didn’t seem right. Jake reached in before the other could, fingers grabbing the two jackets folded on top. His breath was held, waiting for something nasty to surprise him. But as he pulled out another two shirts and pants, he was met with an empty chest. Nothing but clothes had been inside. He passed an outfit to Quentin. 

“I think it’s safe,” Jake said. 

He unzipped his jacket, and turned everything inside out. Quentin was a lot less cautious and had his shame covered by the time Jake was sliding on the first pant leg. When he was covered, and a lot warner, he and Quen shared hesitant smiles. 

“What? No boots in there?” Quentin asked. 

Jake almost wanted to chuckle. But the joke was short-lived, replaced by panic, when he saw that something had appeared in the chest's bottom. Quentin saw the piece of paper as well. His face went white. He started to shake. 

“W-what’s that?” 

Jake couldn’t answer. Fear gripped his chest as he bent down to grab the paper. It was hard and seemingly expensive. Its edges were decorated with delicate decals of jagged thorns. Fancy, inked calligraphy was scrawled between them. 


Jake gulped, scared of reading on. An angry looking skull had been printed under the bold headliner. 

The Entity is starving! The realm has been hectic and needs to revert back to the day to day - slaughter and sacrifice. Your god is asking for bountiful hunts. Trials will resume, and they will resume with your full and eager participation. All killers who have recently been difficult, have been taken care of. Any resistance will be dealt with accordingly. The Entity is starving, and it wants to eat. 

The killer that impresses The Entity the most will win two fabulous prizes - one saboteur, and one dreamwalker! 

Participation is required, regardless of want of rewards. Repeat: any resistance will be dealt with accordingly. Thank you. 

His hands were trembling. The paper was crinkling where his thumbs pressed. Quentin was reading it over his shoulder. He grabbed onto Jake’s arm and buried his face in his hands, like a kid too scared to look in the dark corner of his room, for fear of seeing the demon conjured up in his head. Jake wrapped an arm around him and dropped the paper. He led him back into the woods, away from the chest. 

“Oh god,” Quentin breathed. “What does that mean? Oh god.”

“It’s okay, we’re okay,” Jake said. “I think we’re safe here, at least for a bit. We’re okay.”

He didn’t believe his own words, though, stabbed through with nausea at the thought of being passed on like a toy. To another fucking master. Then another. And another. And now Quen’s involved in all this…

Eventually, they settled under a large oak. They hugged each other, both silent and stewing in their own separate thoughts. Jake’s mind ricocheted between all the possibilities. There were a lot of killers. None better than the last. But nothing matched the terror of returning to Trapper’s boots. 

Maybe… maybe Michael will get us.

Jake’s breath stilled. He looked down at Quentin, laying on his chest, staring out into the dark. It felt like a betrayal to think that. But Michael could be shockingly gentle and the sex wasn’t painful. He was a safe option, Jake concluded. The saboteur wondered if he could ask the killer to leave Quentin alone. If maybe, he could be treated as a normal house guest. Jake wouldn’t mind playing the whore, if it kept Quen safe. For some reason, he felt he could negotiate it. Michael would listen to him, at the very least. 

Oh fuck, are my options that limited? Jake laid his head back on the trunk. Or am I just that fucked up...

Philip woke up in a forest. He had felt nothing but agony only seconds ago. At least, it felt like seconds. He rubbed his now whole head. Anger pulsed through his body. Both at himself, and the Trapper. Evan had killed him, and Quentin and Jake had been left helpless. He prayed that Susie and the others made it down there in time. Otherwise… he shuddered at the alternative. 

“Ngghnn…” someone groaned, like they were in pain. 

Philip’s head snapped to the side. He was sitting up in moments, despite still feeling in a fog. He took in several things at once. He was in a forest, but it wasn’t the hub. He didn’t have his weapon. And a girl was lying next to him. He didn’t recognize her at first. She had blonde hair now, instead of pink. And her outfit had been changed from her dark skirt and baggy sweatshirt, to a white button up and knee length skirt that belonged in Sunday church. She had neither her weapon, or mask. 

He reached out to tap her shoulder, but jerked in shock. His hand… He turned it over, and touched his palm, shocked a second time by his other hand. Gone was his knotted, bark-like skin. It'd been replaced with familiar dark brown, human skin that stretched and pulled with the elasticity of human flesh. He touched his face. It was just as soft. Then he reached to his scalp, finding it smooth and without the jutting roots that caused him headaches. Instead, his fingers touched the beginnings of soft hair - freshly buzzed  - just like it was the day he killed Azaroth. He was wearing the same grease-stained jumpsuit too. It was only when the shock of being human again wore off, that he reached out for Susie. She woke up and jumped nearly ten feet away from Philip. 

“It’s- It’s me! Philip!” he said quickly. “This is what I looked like, before the realm.”

“Oh no,” she said, grabbing at her clothes, then her head. She pulled at her blonde locks and looked at them in horror. “My hair, too… I…. I didn’t dye my hair until I met Julie… The Entity it…” She looked at Philip. “We’re survivors now.”

Philip blinked. He had to look back down at his hands. “You are sure of this?”

“This is how it happened last time,” Susie whimpered. 

“Wait. What do you mean? Have you been here before?”

“I was a survivor once. As a punishment… Memories were wiped, but I got to remember everything.” 

That was a lot to take in. Philip had wondered before, if he’d become a survivor because of his altruism. He hadn’t realized it already happened to another. Did I hurt you too? Philip was still processing that information, as Susie scanned the trees and pointed towards the incredibly dim light between them. 

“Their campfire is there…”

Philip looked back at her. “What of Quentin and Jake?”

Susie shook her head. She gave him a brief explanation of collapsing. That she had no idea what befell the survivors. She went quiet after that, holding her arms to her body and hunching over herself. Philip led the way, giving her space.

“Should we… tell them, who we are?” Susie asked. “Last time, I was too scared too.”

“I think we should. We could work with them, to find Jake and Quentin.”

Susie frowned. “I don’t know how much we’ll be able to do. Survivors are basically rats in a cage. The Entity put us here so we’d stop meddling.” 

“I won’t stop fighting,” Philip said simply. "There has to be a way…”

Susie didn’t say anything in reply. She followed him, lagging behind. The fire grew brighter and louder. Cracks and pops drew them into a clearing, where a weary group sat on logs. Philip could name each one: Nea, Laurie, David, Meg, and Claudette. They all snapped their heads up, both wary and hopeful looks alike, as the odd pair emerged from the trees. Susie gave a timid wave. So did Philip. 

“Um, hello,” he said, as politely as possibly. 

“Newcomers? Now?” David scowled, then reigned in a breath, like he was trying and failing to control his temper. He looked down and held the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. “Someone else deal with this. I can’t.”

“David,” Claudette snapped. She had more anger in her tone than he’d ever heard from her. She looked tired, and that worn gaze shifted to the new duo, attempting a smile. “I’m sorry. You must be scared. Please, come sit by the fire and get warm first. It’s cold out.”

“Thank you,” Philip said. He wasn’t sure how to begin, so he just spit it out. “But you have no need for introductions. We… well, we already know each other.”

“Do we?” asked Laurie, voice immediately wary. Philip knew she had to have survived Michael in the real world for a reason. He nodded. 

“My name is Philip, but you call me The Wraith. And this is Susie, one of The Legion.”

The clearing instantly turned heavy with tension. Philip wondered if that was too brash, because suddenly, Laurie was on her feet, glaring at them. David had jumped to his feet too, looking a bit more confused, but ready to brawl nonetheless. 

“What in the world are killers doing here? And why do you…” Laurie trailed off. Her eyes narrowed in anger. “Get out. We don’t want you here.”

“We… we have no choice,” Philip tried to explain.

“No,” Laurie snapped. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Philip had to admire Laurie’s conviction. Even in the face of two beings who murdered her endlessly, she stood her ground with a stony determination. Like she was the one in charge. It was Susie who spoke next, voice low and wavering. 

“We were punished by The Entity for interfering in its games,” she said. “Your friend, Quentin-”

Saying the boy’s name had been a mistake. 

“Where is he?” Meg begged, jumping to her feet.

“What the fuck do you know?” David barked at the same time. 

Nea and Claudette looked ill. Surprisingly, Laurie didn’t say anything either. She just burned Philip with a hateful, furious glare. It was hard to force his next words out.

“I’m sorry… Me, Susie and a few allies attempted to retrieve them, but…”

“I had them. But The Entity took me before I could get them to safety…. We attacked Lamkin Lane where Jake was being held.” Susie spoke up. She kept her eyes on the floor. “Myers and Evan were fighting over them-”

“Who the fuck is Evan?” David asked. 

“The Trapper.”

Claudette shook her head. Fresh tears dripped down her face. “But… I thought- I thought Trapper had Jake. When did Myers…?” She trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the sentence.

Everyone got quiet and stared at the newcomers. Laurie and David looked ready to interrupt at a moment’s notice, but they too, had silenced. It must have been a hell in itself, sitting in the dark and knowing absolutely nothing about your friends. Philip waited for Susie to continue. A quick glance told him she must have lost her nerve. Her mouth was set in a straight line, locked up tight. He took a deep breath. 

“I’m not sure. And neither are we certain where they’re at anymore. Our allies - The Huntress, Pyramid Head, and the Hillbilly - they were alive. If we could communicate with them, we could learn-”

“We?” Laurie asked. “Don’t act like you’re one of us.”

“Stop it,” Nea snapped. “Let them speak.”

Laurie didn’t reply, just crossed her arms and begrudgingly listened. Philip tried to wade through his guilt as well as he could. 

“No, she’s right. We have no right to interject ourselves into your circle. But we are here regardless. The Entity-”

He paused. There was a sharp tug at his chest, and he reached up to grasp at it. 

“Well shit,” David said. “Looks like you really are playing the part of the survivor.”

Philip was confused. Susie grabbed his wrist, asking what was wrong. 

“He’s entering a trial with us,” Meg said, standing up. She held her chest too. “You feel it before you go. Just… find one of us, and we’ll show you how to do gens, okay?”

Philip nodded, grateful for the willing help. And then he was gone, to face a killer in his new form. He blinked from existence with a final thought:

Please don’t let it be Evan. 

Joey sat on the railing, watching Julie pace underneath him for the nth time. She’d dug a shallow trench with all her back and forth. Susie was gone. No trials were happening. Frank had gotten made at Julie, threw an empty can at her, and now she was here, ranting about their leader with curses and threats. 

“Fuck him!” She screamed. “And fuck Susie too!” 

Joey rolled his eyes. He wished he had a joint. It was the easiest way to calm Julie down when she got riled up. She had a temper to match Frank’s. And a lot of other bad qualities to boot. Not that Joey was judging. Not like he could. 

“It’s not Susie’s fault. You're mad at Frank. Keep it that way,” Joey called down. 

“No.” She paused in the middle of her trench. “Susie knows we aren’t in the real world. She knows that we can’t fuck around with the rules given to us by a literal fucking tyrant god! We have to protect each other first. We made that pact when we came here.”

“Yeah well, she’s a bleeding heart,” Joey shrugged. “You, Frank and I already talked about this. She ain’t ever gonna be a real killer. If it’s got a face, she’ll feel bad stabbing it.” 

“But she’ll stab it.”

Joey waved a finger. “Sure, she’ll do it. But she’ll feel bad.”

Julie scoffed. The argument was going nowhere, so she resumed pacing. Her fists were clenched. Joey was about to get up and leave her to burn the rest of her wick. But he spotted Frank from his perch, running from the woods and towards the lodge. Joey hopped down the several feet, next to Julie. 

“Looks like he’s in a hurry,” he said. 

“Just in time for my fist,” Julie snarled. She hadn’t been able to pay him back for that can to the head. 

Joey raised a brow. Frank was running really fast. There was something in his grip. 

“Something’s wrong,” he noted. 

Julie had noticed too, her temper simmering to mild annoyance. “Fuck. I’m sick of all this shit going on.”

She walked ahead to meet him at the edge of the snow. Joey followed. Frank was breathing heavy, having run all the way here, mask pulled up. His face was worried, brows pinched and mouth set in a hard line. 

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Julie asked. 

“I think The Entity did something to Susie.” Frank said. 

“What?” Joey’s heart skipped a beat. “What does that mean?”

“This-” Frank thrust the paper towards them, and he took it. “I think it's talking about Susie helping that fucking saboteur! We should have left him in the hub, dammit!” 

Joey had to re-read the fancy looking print. A few seconds later, he shoved the paper into Julie’s hands and stalked into the woods. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” Julie shouted. 

“I’m looking for Susie! She ran off after Evan stormed the place, she could be…” he paused, realizing that, in his panic, he had no idea where he was going. “She could still be out there.”

“Dude!” Julie argued. “Aren’t you the one telling us to pause and think for a sec? Don’t just go out and get yourself taken too!” 

Joey ignored her, But as he walked towards the exit gates, he saw that they were closed. He pulled the lever. Nothing happened. He kicked the metal doors, and tried to climb over the walls, but crows attacked him with terrible viciousness. Julie and Frank caught up to him when he fell, body covering in flailing feathers and bloody talons. He hit the ground and the swarm of crows flew away. Joey sat up, groaning. He was covered in hundreds of shallow cuts. 


“We’re seriously trapped in here?” Frank tried kicking at the door, and got the same result as Joey. “Fuck, man. What do we do?”

They looked among themselves, one cut from their group, and unsure of how to proceed. Finally, because they couldn’t just sit around, they split up to look for Susie within Ormond. They knew she wasn’t hidden among the snow. But they searched anyway. It was all they could do.

Chapter Text

Opening his eyes, Philip shuddered to find himself in the MacMillian Estate. He reflexively tried to grab his waepon. But his fingers met an empty hip, his drab uniform scratchy and stained under his hand. 

It would be a long time before he got used to his human body. And an even longer time, getting used to slinking through tall grass like a mouse in hiding. He was loud and clumsy. Without his bell, he had no hope of being stealthy. It was honestly embarrassing. And he was lucky that a survivor found him before Evan did. 

“Hey, uh, Wraith,” someone called, waving him over from around the corner of a shack. “Over here.” 

It was Meg. She had Claudette beside her, the two already working on a generator. Philip uneasily settled beside them. His hands hovered over the wires, unsure. Claudette didn’t say a word. Just pointed to the colors he needed to connect. 

“If you just start touching it, it should come naturally,” she said, voice barely loud enough to hear over the clamor of the gen. “I think The Entity likes it when we know what to do, and how to do it.”

Philip nodded and stuck his hands inside the mess of wires. Subtle shocks ran through his fingers, down to his wrists. They immediately began to ache, but he ignored it. Through the discomfort, his hands started to move, pinching at the wires like he knew what he was doing. He wasn’t very good. But he managed to snag his skill checks before the gen blew up in his face. When it lit up, finished, he felt Meg pat his shoulder. 

“Good job, now follow us close. Don’t run, just find a spot to lay low.”

Philip did as he was told, a bit shocked that the survivor touched him. Claudette looked a lot more nervous to be around Philip, as expected. But she still trailed along, offering Philip advice on how to avoid bear traps while in the heat of a run. 

“If he’s corralling you to a building, the windows are most likely booby-trapped. Or the doorway. That can be easy to miss if you’re in a panic.”

He nodded, trying to take everything in at once. Claudette wouldn’t make eye contact with him, but he appreciated the advice nonetheless. She stopped talking when they found another gen. Meg made a comment about how quiet it was. Only a moment later, the snap of metal and the scream of Laurie echoed around the estate. Meg was on her feet. 

“Claude, Wraith, go ahead and finish the gen. I’ll unhook her.”

Claude’s face hardened, but she didn’t say anything. Philip just nodded and kept working, feeling a bit uncomfortable himself. When Meg ran off, towards the direction of the now hooked Laurie. Philip focused on his gen. They were halfway finished when Meg screamed. Philip glanced up anxiously, but Claudette was solely focused on the task at hand. 

“Head down,” she told him. “It’s easier if you pretend you don’t hear it.”

Philip nodded. It made him feel guilty, but ignored the cries. They were a few seconds from finishing when Meg screamed again. He saw the bright red silhouette of her body across the map, tumbling onto her side. Laurie still hung from her hook. The Entity’s claws had materialized and were attempting to skewer her. 

“Oh no,” Claudette said. She glanced between the gen and her downed teammate. “Um, Wraith?” 

“It’s Philip,” he finally said, sick of being called Wraith. 

“Oh, uh, Philip? Can you finish the gen? I need to…” she trailed off. She was obviously nervous about the situation. 

“I can try to unhook them,” Philip said. “If you want to stay here. I need to learn anyway.”

Claudette considered it, then shook her head. “No, Laurie wouldn’t like that. As soon as you finish this gen, there’s another to the right over there. I’ll try to meet you back there.”

And then she was crawling away, silent as the night. She disappeared through the trunks. Philip forced himself back to work. Meg screamed as she was hooked. He kept his eyes down. The skill checks were really hard to do, but he managed to catch each one at the last second. Too close for comfort, the close calls were making his heart stutter nervously. 

“I have to do this all the time?” he grumbled, annoyed at the shocks. They were mild, but built on top of the other, they made it hard to stay still. 

Philip breathed a sigh of relief when he finished. He pulled his hands to his chest and snuck away, just as Claudette screamed. She had been caught in a bear-trap. Meg was still down and it looked like Laurie didn’t have long until her death. Philip made his way towards the red silhouettes. 

Being on the other end of a failing trial was scary. Philip felt bad for all the times he’d downed everyone at once in a seemingly intentional pattern of good luck. Being the last survivor also added to the pressure of saving the others. Philip had no idea what he was doing. Just that he was slightly panicking. Laurie hardly had any time left before the sacrifice. He started to run towards her. 

“Dammit!” Laurie shouted. “Behind you!” 

Philip suddenly heard the thump of a heart beat. It was like a huge, physical wall pressing into his back, forcing him to run a little bit faster. Heavy breaths followed, along with the stomp of boots. Philip reached Laurie, unhooking her just as a cleaver sliced into his shoulder. He was unable to hold back his scream. Laurie shoved him forward and disappeared among the rocks. Philip didn’t follow her. Evan was on his heels. Philip threw down a vault, giving him a few precious seconds. He heard the break of the wood as he neared a dilapidated shack. He saw the bear trap too late. 

It snapped into his ankle, and a terrible pain crippled Philip to one knee. He gasped, hand hovering over the ensnared limb. The bear trap was covered in barbed wire. Philip tried to pull himself free, but any movement sunk the hooked spikes deeper into his flesh. He couldn’t even reach past the wire to free himself. 

Not that it mattered. Evan kicked him in the ribs. Philip fell face first into the floorboards. The cleaver struck his back twice. Blood poured out of him. But the new wound was nothing compared to the agony of his ankle. Evan had kicked the trap open, reaching down and yanking Philip’s foot free despite the wire that held him by his flesh. More blood pooled on the floor, soaking the wood. 

Evan threw Philip over his shoulder and made for the basement that he had no idea was in the shack. He struggled. It hurt to do so, but instinct drove him to get free. The hook was sudden and parted his ribs, jerking up and forcing the bone structure to hold his weight. He screamed again as he gripped the bloody protrusion. Evan stared at him for a few seconds. Then he spoke: low and sourly humorous. 

“Right where you belong, ain’t it, Phil?”

And without another word, he turned, setting those terrible wired bear traps around the basement and up its stairs. Philip had seen a few survivors haul themselves free before, but when he tried it, he only pulled another scream from his lungs. He was positive that The Entity lowered his pain tolerance. Everything was so unbearable. 

A bear trap snapped above his head. He heard Laurie cry out, then scream as Evan descended on her with a cleaver. She was cursing him, voice growing in volume as she was carried down the dark steps. Philip felt another stab of guilt as she was thrown onto a hook. She kicked out with a snarl. Evan hit her with the cleaver again, across her gut, and left. She grabbed at the shallow wound with one hand, gasping and shouting at the killer’s back. 

“Fucking…” when her audience left, her eyes flashed over to Philip. She seemed a lot less phased by the giant metal object going through her body than he was. And, shockingly, a pained grin cracked across her face. “First time?” 

Philip realized how pained he must have looked. He nodded shakily. “This is… worse than it looks.”

“Yeah, but you’ll get used to it after the thousandth time,” Laurie said, falling right back into her usual frown. “Trapper’s never used traps like that before. That fucking wire is impossible to get free from... Meg couldn’t even get herself out…”

She seemed to be talking more to herself than him now. But Philip was occupied by the claws that had nearly materialized in front of him. Laurie grumbled beside him again. He looked over and saw she was glaring at the ceiling. He looked up. Meg’s silhouette was sprinting loops around the shack. Claudette’s silhouette was crouched nearby, waiting for the danger to pass. 

“Leave, dammit…” Laurie growled. 

Philip didn’t get to watch the rest of the chase. He barely managed to grab the claw aimed straight for his chest. The giant thing cut into his palms. It pushed against him like a bull, knocking all the air from his lungs. He grunted as he struggled to hold it off. Next he looked up, Meg was on the ground. She violently struggled as she was picked up. Moments later, she joined them on the hook. 

Philip heard the squelch of her ribs parting, before the claws reared back and completely broke through his defenses. Philip was stabbed through. The fiery agony of it didn’t stop, even as he faded and went limp. He counted the seconds as he was lifted into the sky. 

Jake groaned as someone nudged his shoulder. He had been deep in a dreamless nothing - the best kind of sleep - and mumbled for them to go bug someone else. Then some coherency returned to him and his eyes snapped open. He sat up to see Quentin kneeling beside him. 

But it wasn’t Quentin who was poking him. The boy was looking at a crow, hopping around Jake’s prone form and pecking at his jacket. The saboteur smiled. Quentin smiled too because of it. Jake hadn’t seen a friendly crow since Michael killed his closest one. Quentin only knew that the poor thing had disappeared. This crow bounced around excitedly. It looked friendly enough. Jake wondered if it was from the campfire’s forests and had managed to find its way here. 

“Hey, buddy. If I had some food, I’d give you some,” Jake said regretfully. 

He scratched under its beak. It lifted its head and hummed in low trill. Jake chuckled and looked at Quentin again, gesturing for him to give it a pet. Quentin did so, a bit more timidly. This crow was really big. Bigger than any he’d ever seen. It cawed. Its voice was just as big. Quentin was startled and fell backwards. Jake laughed, moving to help him from the dirt. But they both jumped, fear and adrenaline racing through their veins, as a dark, booming voice was suddenly laughing at them. 

Jake scrambled in front of Quentin, holding an arm out to keep him from the crow. Its eyes had turned ruby-red. The voice came from its own beak. It was neither male nor female, but a cold genderless voice not unlike the incoherent whisperings in the basement. Jake resisted the urge to clasp his hands over his ears. Quen had given into it, looking fearfully over Jake’s shoulder at the chuckling bird. It eyed them humorously. 

“Did you read the note?” It asked cruelly. “Who do you think will get the worn-out toy next?”

“Sh-shut up!” Jake bit out, face turning red. He kicked out but the crow easily flew back a few steps, taunting him all the while. 

“Just a hole! A hole to be used!” The thing squawked. “And now the killers have another one to use up!” 

Beside him, Quentin paled. He held his face in his hands, as if he couldn’t bare to even look at the feathered creature. 

“Go away! Haven’t you tortured us enough!” Jake snarled. 

He kicked at the thing again. It flew over his head, latching a talon into Quentin’s hair and yanking the dreamwalker from the saboteur. Jake cursed at it, lunging at its claws and struggling to untangle them from the boy’s scalp. Quentin had started to cry. The crow kept jeering down at him, scratching them both with sharp claws. 

“Worthless, except to be filled with cum! Worthless holes! How does it feel? To be nothing but whores?”

Jake finally got Quentin free and tugged him against his chest. He swatted at the crow. It kept swiping at them. Jake’s jacket’s sleeve was nearly torn to ribbons and dripping in blood. Quentin had red running down his face from his hairline. 

“Fuck off!” Jake screamed. He pulled Quen into running beside him. The bird followed effortlessly, just above their heads. 

“Trapper has become such a good killer again,” the crow called out, almost conversationally. Jake stumbled but kept running. “But Michael is doing just as well, as usual.”

Jake stumbled again. Tears filled his eyes but he willed them away. 

“Even Freddy is pulling his weight!” The crow laughed. 

Quentin shook with a sob. He seemed to run a little faster, as if they could outrun the demon. Jake realized it was a hopeless game when the foul thing flew down in their path. Quentin cried out and tried to tug Jake the other way. Jake just pushed the dreamwalker behind him and glared heatedly at the bird. It cocked its head, red eyes glowing. 

“What do you want?” he spat. 

“To tell you-” the crow barked. “To tell you that you have until your fire goes out.”

A sudden vibrant light lit up behind them. Jake and Quen spun around, seeing a fire having bloomed through the trees, cracking atop a pile of logs. It was small compared to the one back home. 

“What happens when it goes out?” Quentin asked fearfully. 

The crow laughed loudly. “Dumb whore! You’re given to the winner of the game!”

Jake’s anger flared hotly. He kicked at the bird again, but this time, it hopped up and snatched his ankle between its beak. Razor-like teeth shot from the rims of its maw. Jake screamed. The crow’s head shook, deepening the wound and shaking blood everywhere. It let go with another laugh. 

“Stupid hole! Your new owner better train you well.”

And then it was gone, flying up into the canopy of dark branches. Jake held his leg. His muscles trembled in pain, but he managed to roll over and onto his good leg with Quentin’s help. Jake grabbed his shoulder as he stood, giving him a lop-sided hug. Grief was quickly replacing his anger. Quentin looked like he might pass out from his fear, and Jake had nothing to offer him comfort. He felt completely defeated as they crouched in front of the little flames - the time piece counting down their hours. It wasn't as warm as the camp fire, but at least it was something. 

Danny furrowed a brow, stooping low to snatch the paper that he’d found sitting in the middle of the hallway. He had been busy with his pet, and then a knock came from the door. 


He read on, attention peaked. It looked like trials were starting back up. And Jake and Quentin had gotten themselves tangled up as the prizes. Danny smirked. It was kinda funny, sure, but nothing that really interested him. He tossed the paper back into the hall and slammed the door shut. He already had a pet. One was enough, thank you. 

He turned back to the room. It wasn’t his bedroom. It was a space at the end of the hall - one he’d wandered into often enough, but never had anyone to partake with. The room was padded with black leather, with cuffs, chains, and cabinets on the walls, swamped in dark light that made Danny nearly invisible with his robes on. 

Dwight had been blindfolded and restrained on his knees. A black harness was strapped over his chest. It kept his arms neatly folded against the small of his back. A chain kept him connected to the wall by a ringlet on the back of the harness. Dwight couldn’t see, move, or speak, thanks to bright red ball gag shoved between his teeth. 

Ghostface retrieved his camera, resuming his photo session. Dwight looked nothing but delicious when done up like this. Danny was hard as a rock, thinking off all the poses he wanted to try out. His pet was oblivious to anything around him. He shook a little, cowering in on himself despite the chain that forced his back to remain straight. Danny caressed his face. Dwight flinched, then leaned into the touch. 

“Sweet boy,” Danny cooed. His foot nudged Dwight’s cock. It, too, was hard, and straining against his stomach. “You look so pretty like this. All wrapped up for me.”

Dwight gave a tiny nod, drool sliding free of his gag. Danny chuckled and wiped it away. Then he crouched behind Dwight, pressing his back flush to his front, and wrapping his arms around his bound form. Dwight pressed back into him with a muffled groan. Danny’s hands were playing with his balls. He massaged them while he peppered Dwight’s neck with kisses and licks. More moans escaped his pet. He grew more restless, squirming despite struggling to control himself. 

“It’s okay, baby boy, you can wiggle,” Danny smirked. “I got you. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

His fingers clasped around the hot shaft. Dwight sucked in a sharp breath. It turned ragged when that hand began to jerk him off. His pet turned his head, trying to press it into Danny’s shoulder, hiding his face. Danny kept pumping his cock while he grabbed his chin, gently turning it so Danny could watch his face while he worked. When it looked like he was just about to cum, Danny stopped. A pitiful whine escaped Dwight’s throat. His hips jerked forward. 

“Agh~” He panted behind his gag. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. But I want some more photos, baby. You understand, don’t you?” 

His good boy, despite his whines, nodded eagerly. Danny grinned. He’d never get over how obedient he was. He couldn’t imagine having to actually train a pet, let alone Jake the Bitch Sabo. The rewards sounded more like burdens than anything fun. Of course, he could always keep Jake in his torture room. But again, Dwight seemed close to the fuck. It was best he stayed far, far away from here. 

“Hold still for me,” Danny whispered, then stood. 

He admired Dwight’s naked body as he went towards the large black cabinet. It had been bare, but he’d check it now and again, and all kinds of devious toys were added frin his sacrifices. He picked out a few appropriate items. Dwight cluelessly listened to his footsteps with a paling face. Danny knew he hated the blindfold. But seeing his pet helpless was too tantalizing

He rubbed at Dwight’s nipples, pinching them between his fingers and rolling them. More drool ran down Dwight’s lips. He groaned and tried to hold his shoulders still, but they were tossing back and forth, confused whimpers seemingly asking what the hell Ghostface was doing. 

“Shhh, stay still for me if you can,” Danny said. 

He grabbed the little nipple clamps he had, with rubber tips and a chain between them. They weren’t terribly tight. He had some scarier looking ones further in the closet. Still, Dwight whined like it hurt when he clamped them to his chest. Danny rubbed his face. He resisted the urge to tug the chains and make him cry out. 

“You look so good like that, baby. I’m gonna take off the gag, and you're gonna give Daddy some kisses while you get used to the pain.”

Dwight nodded. The gag was set off the side and Dwight moved his jaw around to loosen the ache. Danny grabbed his face and massaged where he knew it would hurt most. He’d had that gag in for a long time. Dwight tensed at the touch at first, then pushed further against Danny when he realized he was helping. Dwight still had a lot of those moments - thinking he was gonna be beaten. Danny wasn’t a brute like Evan. He was just helping himself to all that brute’s hard work. 

“You’re safe with me, Dwightie. Daddy’s got you.”

And then Dwight pushed past his hands to start gently pecking at his mouth. His tongue flicked, asking for permission as he pressed against Danny’s lower lip. Danny opened and let that timid tongue explore. Dwight wasn’t used to any sort of giving. He was used to laying down and taking what was given. His fragile way of approaching things got Danny hot and bothered. 

Dwight pressed his lips to Danny’s. He was clumsy and messy, but tried his best as he licked and prodded the inside of the killer’s pliant mouth. Slowly, Danny moved with him until he pressed his tongue against Dwight’s, back into his own mouth, and taking over control. He felt his pet’s hard-on rubbing against his leg. The poor thing was trying not to hump it, but his hips were pumping in barely discernible thrusts. Danny smirked and pressed against it. Dwight yelped inside his mouth, and tried to rectify his slip-up by eagerly sucking and licking Danny’s bottom lip. Danny thought he heard the word ‘sorry’ in his breath. He shushed him.

“Such a good boy. Don’t worry. We’re going to take some more pictures, okay? Focus on me until I’m done. You’re gonna feel so good.”

Dwight nodded shakily. Danny let him kiss the side of his face as he played with his pet’s cock again. But this time, he had a ring to slip on it. It was a tight squeeze, but it slipped down to the base with the help of his pet’s pre-cum. Dwight made cute, frightened noises as Danny kept stroking him off. 

The ring was doing its job, and Dwight’s legs began to twist. His lips seemed to stop working too. Danny’s hand got faster. Dwight pressed into his chest, face in the crook of the killer’s shoulder as he panted against the stimulation. When Dwight’s moans began to pick up in volume, Danny stopped completely. Dwight whined and curled into him. The killer gave his forehead a kiss, then grabbed his cock again. 

Dwight was brought back to the edge again. He shook his head into Danny’s shoulder, tears running down his cheeks. But he never resisted or vocally denied Danny’s advances. Even if it was obviously hard for him. Danny told him to hang on a little longer. He had one last item to use. 

He’d tried the cock pump on himself a few times. It was one of the fanciest things The Entity had ever given him, and as he slipped the sleeve over Dwight’s dick, earning a low moan and shiver, he couldn’t be more grateful for it. Dwight whined when Danny peeled away from him. 

“No, no, no, lean back,” Danny said. 

Dwight immediately did as he was told. Danny gave his cheek a pat and reached down to mess with the pump, locking the little strap under his balls to keep it in place, and turning it on. The thing never had to be charged.. It could go for as long as he wanted. Danny flipped it on. It made a low humming noise before the insides began to rhythmically pump. Dwight’s body spasmed. The chained pulled taut as he leaned forward for the body that wasn’t there. Danny had backed up several steps, removing his camera. 

He walked around the blind, moaning Dwight, snapping shots of his face and cock and backside. His fingers were grasping at air as he seemed to hit his blocked peak, mumbling garbled pleas. Danny couldn’t understand what the fuck he was saying, but it was cute nonetheless. He let Dwight suffer a bit longer before finally reaching down and tugging off the pump. 

Dwight gasped, red-faced and confused. Danny quickly took off the ring and replaced the pump before his pet knew what was going on. The way his body jerked as he came had Danny fisting himself in his own pants. He came seconds after, biting his lip as he stared at Dwight’s breathless figure, still wiggling fruitlessly against the machine pumping his sensitive dick. 

Danny resisted the urge to leave Dwight like that all night, being milked dry. They could… work up to that. His fingers twitched. He had to shake his head, riding himself of his overwhelming desires, and free Dwight of his torture. His pet collapsed into his arms, thanking Danny and reaching up as far as he could to breath praise against his neck. The killer gathered him up in his arms. He didn’t untie his pet yet. With trials starting, he’d have less time to play. He just wanted to bask in his reward, in his defeat over Evan, and the afterglow of his orgasm. Dwight seemed more than content to sag into his embrace as his breathing evened out. 

Chapter Text

“I don’t get it… then what can we do?” Nea asked, for what felt like the hundredth time. 

Susie pressed her lips together, having a hard time watching the distraught anger flash across her face. Susie had just tried to explain what happened - with Evan and Myers and the killers who tried to help. Not surprisingly, she was bombarded by questions throughout. Questions she didn't have answers to. Susie desperately wished for Philip to hurry up and finish his trial. She felt terribly awkward. 

“I don’t know,” Susie admitted. “But he and Quentin were left behind with the other killers, I think.”

“So…” Nea sighed. “What you’re saying is, they could be with Trapper, Myers, or with one of your friends… who wouldn’t harm them?” 

Susie nodded. “No. They wanted to help.”

David made an upset noise in the back of his throat. “Fuckin’ great. So we can just trust the killers to take care of our friends, huh?” He snapped. 

“If they were rescued by The Huntress, Pyramid Head or the Hillbilly, then yes.”

“Bastards’ll probably kill ‘em before they return ‘em,” David said. “You even told us that you and your Legion buddies were hunting him for a bounty! How in the hell can we trust any of you?”

“We gave him refuge when he realized what was going on,” Susie argued back. “We protected him from Myers-”

“Some protecting you did,” Nea scoffed. 

Susie’s jaw snapped shut. She felt a flare of shame run through her chest. Nea had been a lot less aggressive than David throughout the interaction. She had hoped the street artist had some gratitude for her trying to help Jake out. But now she was looking at the Legion with a deep scowl. 

“I’m sorry.” Susie couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

Nea just nodded, and went back to holding her head in her hands, distraught. David pinned Susie with a look that made her squirm in her seat. She hated being the center of attention, and half-wished it had been her that had been taken. How long does it take to die in a trial, Philip?!

David just asked her to leave them alone until the other’s returned. She wandered off, feeling too uncomfortable to be sitting at the fire. It was always so warm and full of laughter. The darkened reflection of her past time here made her feel ill. Nea and David were supposed to smile at her. They joked and roughhoused and teased the group into laughter and shouting matches. 

Susie finally stopped walking and slumped against a large, fallen log. Its wood was rotted and soft under her back. She didn’t mind the bugs.


Philip didn’t mind either. Susie had dozed off when he arrived, looking for her.  He sat beside her, asking if she was okay. She shook her head. 

“I… they hate us,” Susie held back a sob. “Last time… it was so easy, getting to know them. They were so friendly, and kind, and patient… I wish we never told them who we were. They don’t even know anything that can help! We can’t do anything stuck here!” 

Realizing how loud she was being, a red mask of embarrassment heated her face. She threw her head between her knees and hid there. “I fucking hate this. I want to go home,” she whined. 

“I’m sorry, Susie,” Philip said softly. “I don’t like the aggression either. I can’t imagine how you feel though, knowing them from before.”

Susie lifted her head to wipe at a runny nose. She nodded, reigning in her tears. “Nea was like a big sister, almost. It was nice, having a healthy relationship like that. Julie…” Susie’s face scrunched up again and she had to stop or risk crying again. “Sorry, I can’t be talking about this stuff. I don’t feel like sobbing right now.”

“Don’t apologize. We can rest, or talk about something else,” Philip recommended. “If you want to be alone, that’s fine too.”

“Oh, um… thanks. I was actually wondering…” She trailed off, looking away a little nervously. Philip just waited patiently until she looked back at him with a pleading smile. “Do you remember anything, from before?”

“Before The Entity took me?” 


“I can tell you what I can recall, but it’s not much.”

“That’s okay,” she hummed. “I’d just like to get to know you, I think.”

Philip was quiet for a moment. Then he looked up at the sky and spoke. “Well, strangely enough, the first thing I remember is my first job. I was maybe six years old, and I had a neighbor, who needed someone to fetch her water every morning and evening. She was old and frail, but she’d give me sweets, I think, in exchange for the water. Something a child would get excited over…”

Philip went on, telling Susie mundane stories about pieces of his life. He avoided any bad, or violent memories. He grew up in a rough street, and even moving out of his childhood home, had a habit of befriending criminals, thinking them as normal as he was. Philip’s father said he was too soft and naive - easy to take advantage of. It made for some nasty memories. 

Susie, however, slowly brightened up. She lost the wetness to her eyes as she listened, head back on the log and eyes fluttering shut. She fell asleep without realizing it. Philip still finished his story, in case she could hear him, and then settled down too. But as soon as he did, he was called into another match. 

But… I just did one, didn’t I? 

He held in his curse, not wanting to wake Susie. But her eyes were already open. She was holding her chest. Philip gave her a sympathetic smile. 

“Just find me, and we can face the trial together,” The ex-Wraith said. 

“O-okay,” Susie nodded, nervous to face one after such a long time on the other side. 

They both vanished into ash. Susie’s gaze was pieced back together. She found herself standing among a school. A dark, ominous shadow hung from the underbelly of the sky. Chains and cages with husk-like corpses hung, suspended from shadow. It was Pyramid Head’s territory. 

She felt a mild wave of relief. Even if he had to play the trials, at least it was someone who wouldn’t be cruel over it. She looked around, sad to see that she’d spawned alone. She dashed down the stone steps and across the courtyard. She needed to find Pyramid Head herself then, and figure out what happened on Lampkin Lane. 

The killer wasn’t hard to find. She followed the faint sound of his terror radius as soon as she caught wind of it, running through the hall and towards a classroom. The heartbeat pounded in her head. She’d forgotten how much adrenaline coursed through her body when it happened. It kept her running down the hall until she found who she was looking for. Philip was there too, wounded, running straight for her with an agonized grimace. 

“Susie! Run!” Philip gasped out, just before the huge blade slammed into his back. Susie was frozen stiff as blood sprayed over her face. Philip crumpled at her feet. Pyramid Head was drawing back his sword, aiming it at Susie’s side. Her body caught up with her mind, and she jumped back, stumbling into a run down the corridor. A trail of blood, iron and barbed wire split open under her feet. Her calves were shredded and every step was hot pain. But Pyramid Head had left her to scurry, hooking Philip. Susie, in a moment of shame, didn’t go after him. She hid in a locker, trying to steady her breathing. 

Why is he attacking us? I get that we’re survivors now… but… but… 

But nothing, she finally sighed, slipping out into the hall with a whimper. Pyramid Head was a killer. This was a trial. What was she expecting? Tea and biscuits at the dinner table? She buried her severe disappointment and tried to find a gen. There was no point pouting over it. She’d just have to ask Anna or The Hillbilly what happened that night. Hopefully, they would answer a question or two. 

She heard Nea scream somewhere across the map, directly followed by David. Philip had just been unhooked, and she could see his aura running around, trying to dodge the killer. Susie cursed. She left the gen behind to help Nea, who was closest. But she was only halfway there when Philip was hooked again. Pyramid Head came back in time to spot Susie. 

“Fuck, you gotta run,” Nea said, pushing at her ankle. “Run, girl!” 

Susie followed her advice, having no idea how to turn this trial around. The loud, dragging sound of his sword was close behind. Susie ran into a classroom, crouching past a locker, praying he’d mistake her ending scratch marks for a false hiding spot. She instead ducked into a hall and held her breath. It was silent. 

She wasn’t sure if she should keep running. Was he going to ambush her down the hall? Was he going back for the two fallen survivors. She peeked back into the classroom. Pyramid Head was gone. She snuck back in, freezing as she saw that a piece of paper had been stabbed into the wood of the locker. Susie was already reading it before she grabbed it. Her eyes went wide. 

The killer that impresses The Entity the most will win two fabulous prizes - one saboteur, and one dreamwalker!

Her stomach lurched. She dropped the paper, spinning around just in time to see a blade swinging for her head. Violent pain sent her into the ground. She could barely stand up, and was downed halfway out the door. She was dragged towards a hook. 


Susie gasped as she was violently thrown into the ground. At least. That’s what it felt like. She woke up, chest burning and back pressed into damp grass. She wasn’t writhing in a pain. She wasn’t skewered through with his giant knife. She was whole, and back in the forest where the fire burned several yards away. 

I forgot how shitty it was to wake up from that kind of death…

She stood and dusted off her pearl-colored outfit. The letter was gone, but its contents sat heavy in her head. She needed to tell the others, especially Philip, once he returned. She rubbed at her head and grimaced. 

“He didn’t have to be that rough about it…”

Not that she couldn’t be grateful. Pyramid Head told her his plans in his own way. She fully trusted that, if he won this terrible game, her friends would be returned. She looked up at the fire, knowing this was good news. 

Her legs didn’t move towards the camp, though. She could see two bodies there, through the trees. She didn’t feel she belonged. An ache ran through her and she had to hold herself tight. She missed The Legion. No matter how cruel or violent they could be, they still loved her. They still treated her like she was a part of the family. She wanted that right now. Instead, Susie was rewarded with another tug of her chest. Her veins ran cold with panic. 

Already? Another trial?! But… but I just got out of this one.

She barely finished the thought before her body disappeared. 



Joey ducked under a glass bottle. It smashed into the wall behind him. He warily kept crouched behind the couch, peering over to see Julie stalking out of the living room, seemingly done with screaming at him. He didn’t even know what the hell they’d been arguing about. Just that tensions were high and no one was getting along. 

“Fucking… there was still some beer left in that…” 

Joey turned to see Frank having walked in from the back, staring down at the shattered bottle. 

“It was old and stale,” Joey said. “Not worth anything.”

“Why the fuck'd she throw it?” Frank spat, kicking a shard. 

Joey shrugged. “Why’d you try and punch me yesterday, you bastard?” 

Frank had enough shame to look away, mulling over his next words. “Yeah, sorry. I just got angry.”

“Well, there you go,” Joey said. “I’m the only one left with my head screwed on right, but you two are making me want to cut it off.”

“I’m just- shit, man, I’m just-” 

“Angry, yeah, I get it.” Joey sighed. His chest gave a tug, and with it, came a wave of relief. “Look, Frank, we can dance around the issue later. I’m being called to a trial.”

“Good luck,” his friend offered awkwardly, in the tone he always used when he hated the situation and just wanted things to be okay. “I’ll uh, be here when you get back.”


To Frank, it’d look like Joey fell away to nothing. From Joey’s perspective, Frank’s form turned to ash, blowing away to the lodge floor and leaving Joey alone. In this reflection of his home, gens sprouted from the ground and lights above began to flicker, beacons for the four moths that would have appeared too. 

Joey’s knife was out. He focused on stomping through the snow, eyes peering dangerously over his bandana as he searched someone to take his anger out on. It was good to have trials back. Maybe once Julie and Frank started playing them again, they’ll lose some of that tension. Joey was happy to blow off some of his own, otherwise, he’ll shank Frank’s ass one of these days. Julie was one bottle throw away from it, too. 

He headed up a slope towards the sound of working gen. Feral Frenzy began to course through him. Labored breath struggled from his lungs as he rushed forward. He couldn’t hear anything above the sound of the blood rushing in his head. The gen was being worked on by three of them. The bodies scattered from their work, but one stayed, seemingly determined the finish the gen. Joey grinned wide. 

Better run, bitch. 

The Strode chick was still on her knees, hands only just now retracting from the wires. His knife raised to sink into her shoulder, uncaring of why she was so slow today. Then Laurie turned and big, green eyes that were definitely not Strode’s looked up at him in shock. 

Joey froze solid. “S-Susie? What the fuck are you-.” He took a step back as Susie stood up. “Sus, what the fuck happened? Is this your punishment?” His voice was a little shaky, his body still thrumming from his Feral Frenzy. 

“Joey...” Susie choked out. She was biting her bottom lip to keep from crying. But at the same time, there was a faint smile on her face. “You remember me?” 

“Of course, I-” he paused, as if his mind was still catching up to the situation. “Oh fuck, no.” He looked up at the sky. “I ain’t hurting her, you cock sucker!  Susie, stay here and do your gen. We’ll talk when I can give you the exit gate.”

“Wait!” Susie snatched him by the arm. “Joey, you… I think it’s best if we play the game how it wants. That means…”

“No. Susie, the last thing I’d ever do is hurt you.”

His curved knife swam through her guts, wretching out at an angle that made its exit agonizing. 

“How’s that feel, dumb-ass?” 

Susie’s hands began to shake. She didn’t let go of Joey’s arm, even as he tried to pull away. 

“I’d forgive you. You gotta play the trial right or the Entity-”

“Then you play the trial right,” Joey grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her back to her gen. “The Entity can’t bug you if you ain’t doing nothing.”

“That’s besides the point,” Susie huffed, not moving to touch the wires. Her body went rigged again, and Joey knew her well enough to know she wanted to ask him something - but was nervous to do so. 

“What’s up?” 

“Jake… and Quentin,” Susie said quietly. “He… I had them in my hands, but I don’t… Do you know what happened to them? Are they okay?” 

“Fuck, Sus,” Joey groaned. “Jake was what got you into this mess in the first place. And what are you going on about another survivor?” 

Susie’s face firmed up. “You can just leave me to my mess then.” And she turned to her gen. 

Joey scratched the back of his head. He felt like an ass, but at the same time, figured Susie needed a bit of tough love and a look at reality. He’d talk to her after he killed the real survivors and they’d figure this shit out. It was just a relief to know that she hadn't been discarded to some endless void or something. 

“Alright, I’ll be back.” 

She didn’t respond. Joey began to sprint away. But there was a loud crack. Something rumbled the earth and his footing slipped. He ate a face full of snow, and quickly scrambled to his feet, ears darkening with embarrassment. The earth shook again, those cracks shuddering through the air. Joey’s blood ran cold as Susie screamed above it, turning in time to see a black claw skewering her to the ground by her right arm. She grasped at the bloody limb, twisting and shouting for help. Joey raced forward, only for another claw to shoot from between his legs and into his gut. He groaned in pain, the black limb hooking around his waist so he couldn’t move.

“Susie!” He shouted, red spittle soaking his chin. He reached out for her as her other arm was pinned. Her failing legs were caught by her ankles. Bones cracked as she was yanked along the ground into a spread eagle position. Her screaming grew more desperate. More bones cracked. She kept repeating Joey’s name, over and over, agony driving her to beg for help she knew she wasn’t getting. 

Joey still thrashed on his own claw. He didn’t care if it shifted his organs and punctured his insides. He only froze when the loudest crack yet ran through Susie's body. She went deathly quiet, only a low keen escaping her throat, before the claws gave a final yank. Her limbs separated from her torso in a spray of blood and separating muscle. Susie screamed her heart out all over again, flailing on the ground, limbless.

Joey was shaking in revulsion. He couldn’t look away. Susie’s wide eyes found his. Pure horror and mortification rammed into Joey’s gut, seemingly pushing the claw holding him free. He stumbled, the gaping wound in him slowly stitching to a manageable size. 

Finish the trial. I’ll even give you this, unless you’d like to throw another tantrum…

Joey was reaching out to… help Susie? He didn’t know. But then a little keychain fell from the sky, clinking by his hesitant hand. It was a little skull, with a half human face twisted in agony. He looked back at Susie, who’s red-soaked body was heaving with the exertion to breath. Her lungs sounded like they were filling quickly. 

Let this be a warning, to all The Legion. You have loyalty to me, and only me. I only allowed you four together because it is how I made you. This little girl rejected my kindness. Now, she can writhe in the dirt with the worms she so desperately desires to be with. Kill her. 

Joey’s knife shook. Susie was still staring at him, gaping like a fish. He should kill her, if only to stop the pain. 

She is not of The Legion anymore. 

“Isn’t there a way? To… to get her-” 

Kill her. Kill the traitor. 

Anger slammed into Joey, the diety seemingly trying to stuff him full of emotions he didn’t want. Susie didn’t deserve this. She had been forced by Frank to participate in their first murder, anyway. Shouldn’t that have been grounds enough to have been left behind in Ormond? He tried not to think about how he’d helped bully Susie into burying the body with them. She’d been so scared. He’d been scared too, for entirely different, more selfish reasons. 

“You don’t deserve this, Sus. I’ll… I’ll make it quick.” His voice choked up a bit. He raised his knife, catching how Susie’s gaze kept firmly on his face. He was unwilling to decipher that look, and plunged the blade into her throat, cutting deep. He gently held her head as her eyes fluttered erratically. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” he told her. 

Susie couldn’t even speak. She made garbled moans, twisting her limbless shoulders up as if trying to grab hold of the hand on her cheek. A few seconds later, she went still. Joey wiped a stray tear from her face, apologizing incessantly under his breath, unable to stop his body from trembling. She was still staring at him, eyes now glassy and lifeless. Joey stood, there were only a few gens left to be done. But…

He didn’t move. Another gen popped across the map. He didn’t even look up. It was a gruesome, sickening sight, but Joey burned it into his memory. This was his fault for taking things so nonchalantly. This was his fault for putting his want of peace over his need to protect The Legion. That was Frank and Julie’s job too. They had all failed. 

Move. Or I’ll bring her back and do it again. 

Only then, did he move. He walked away from her, almost mechanically. But by then, the last gen popped. And to his luck, the exit gates were on separate sides of the map. Joey knew he’d be severely punished after this. It didn’t really matter. He felt he deserved it.

Chapter Text

Dwight pulled awkwardly at his new outfit. It wasn’t anything like his sweatpants or tee. It was a little, black maid’s dress, complete with white stockings that hugged the fat of his thighs, and made him feel utterly self-conscious. He tried to hold himself, but Ghostface kept pulling his arms to his sides, trying to snap photos. 

“Come on, Dwightie, you look so nice,” Danny cooed. “Try to not cover that pretty face for just a few minutes. Or I can tie your hands behind your back~” 

“N-no, I-I’m o-ok-kay,” Dwight stammered. Danny beamed at him, with that grin he gave every time Dwight spoke. “S-sorry.”

“It’s okay, go ahead and turn around. Daddy wants to see that cute ass.”

Dwight turned, letting out a squeak as the hem of his dress was lifted, his bare ass lighting up with the camera’s flash. Then Danny suddenly pulled him flush to his crotch, grinding slowly into him and leaning close to breath into his ear. For a moment, Dwight thought he was going to be bent over and fucked. He hadn’t been genuinely fucked since he’d left Master’s side. Not that he was complaining. The finger pressing between his cheeks was a surprise. He jumped, and Danny shushed him, massaging his asshole but not penetrating it. 

His other hand cupped Dwight’s chin, fingers coming to prod at his bottom lip. He was ordered to suck. He sucked, applying a generous amount of saliva, scared that it might be all the lube he was getting. Danny withdrew his fingers and the wet digits slid down his back. He shivered. 

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, baby,” Danny cooed. “I’d never hurt you. I have to stretch you out so it’ll feel real good.”

Dwight nodded, pressing his head into his owner’s shoulder. Danny kissed his neck as he added another finger, being slow and careful and scissoring him open. Dwight was pushing back into the pressure. His hole clenched around Ghostface’s fingers. It didn’t feel like much, after lifetimes of taking Master’s rough dick.

Dwight’s cock perked in interest though, and Danny chuckled at the sight. He didn’t touch it, just kept working open Dwight’s hole until the room was filled with soft moans and whines. When he pulled out, there was a ‘pop’, and Dwight was left feeling empty. Danny stood, ordering his pet to stay facing the wall. The captive could hear him digging through that box he had brought in here - one that had his teeth setting on edge. 

None of the surprises have been painful. You’re okay, he won’t hurt you, Dwight told himself. It calmed him a little. Danny hadn’t hurt him so far. He’d given him clothes. He’d let him make mistakes. Danny wouldn’t hurt him. He held onto that like a desperate, dying man.

The body returned to press against his back. Ghostface gently grabbed his wrists and placed them behind his back.  They were tied off. Dwight whimpered as his ball gag was buckled around his jaw. Danny gave his neck a deep kiss as he turned him towards the bed, grinning into his skin at Dwight's surprised gasp.  There was something on the bed, against the headboard. Dwight had no idea what it was, but he could make a guess. It was a pale, shallow box set in the covers. Something dark and phallic jutted from its crown. Some kind of machine, whose use was too embarrassing to acknowledge, even in his own head. He whined behind his gag as he was walked towards it. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Danny rubbed up and down his back. “We’ll take it nice and slow, baby boy~”

Dwight just nodded, letting Danny lead him up onto the bed. He stared down the weird contraption. Danny grabbed a hold of his hips, turning him around so he was on his knees. Dwight squeaked as his ass was lowered onto the tip of the dildo. Danny didn’t shove him on though, just rubbed his ass up and down the plastic length, peering over his pet’s shoulder to get a good view. 

“There we go~” Danny’s voice was bubbling with excitement. “Keep rubbing up and down on it, just like that. Good boy.” 

Danny slid back, letting Dwight use his legs to bounce against the dildo. It wasn’t very big, and the friction against his hole actually felt nice. He barely noticed the flash as the camera went off. He was getting used to that. It meant he was doing good for his owner. He gasped as he pushed back too hard, the head of the toy nearly slipping inside of him. He whined and jerked up, fearing he fucked up. Ghostface just chuckled. 

“Does that feel good?” he asked.

Dwight nodded frantically, noticing the blindfold in Danny's hand. He slowed in his bounce to let it be wrapped over his eyes. A kiss pressed into his temple, and hands caressed under his black skirt, the white frills beneath tickling his thighs. Danny squeezed the flesh there. Dwight sucked in a harsh breath behind his gag. Hot puffs of air were blowing over his crotch. A tongue slipped out and brushed over his cock. He jerked in surprise. Danny grabbed his hips to keep him still, kissing and licking playfully at his balls and shaft. Dwight moaned. Wet fingers returned to his hole. Danny took his cock into his mouth as he shoved three up his ass, stretching him back open and leading his hips over the toy. The head pressed alongside the fingers, which slowly slipped out as it replaced the dildo. Dwight’s moans stopped at the intrusion, his eyes opening behind the blindfold in semi-panic. Was he supposed to take it all at once? 

“Good boy, let me do the work,” Danny said from between his legs. 

Dwight sucked in a breath as he licked a long stripe up his cock. Hot lips sucked his head in, that tongue played at his slit before taking him into an eager throat. Dwight wanted to buck into the tightness. Yet the hands on his hips had a firm, if gentle, hold. Thumbs rubbed circles in his skin. He was eased further onto the toy. The tongue swirling in Ghostface’s mouth was keeping him too occupied to care. If anything, he’d almost missed being full. To be given pleasure while it was happening? His legs were twitching against the layers of sensation. He was tied up, blind, and being moved by hands not his own. He relaxed completely, giving into the layers of sensations, knowing he couldn’t make any mistakes like this. 

He made sure to whine a little louder, because Danny liked it. He was a tiny bit pleased with himself when it earned him a fondling of his balls. He squeaked in surprised when his ass hit the hilt of the toy. He felt Danny grin against his cock, the hand sliding off his hip to the base of the dildo. 



Drool slipped out from under his gag, his moans garbled as the toy vibrated, its length slowly pumping in and out of him mechanically. Danny went back to his blowjob. Dwight was left curling and uncurling his toes and fingers, trying to keep himself from cumming right there. 

Suddenly, that warmth disappeared. He whined and bucked his hips. There was a chuckle before a cock ring slipped tightly around his hard flesh. Dwight gagged on his own spit as the wet, sucking heat returned, and with it, the sensation of being tugged along the edge of an orgasm and never hitting his climax. It was too much. But he couldn’t beg, and really it wasn’t like he was being dismembered. 


Outside of Dwight’s racing thoughts, Danny had slowed in his work to look up, catching a nice angel of his pet’s red race. He was panting in overstimulation, mumbling gagged words that sounded a lot like begging. 

As much as Danny wanted to watch him blow his load, he also hadn’t gotten to play with the new toy the Entity gifted him. That, and along with the oddly specific maid outfit boxed alongside it, gave him the suspicion that the deity liked watching this as much as he did. He pulled Dwight’s cock free from his mouth, jerking him off in place of his tongue as he scooted closer. The toy was fiddled with. 


Dwight nearly choked on his own spit. The dildo went much faster, the mechanical whir crescendoing to a fast-beating pace. His body moved with it, pumping up and down as Danny’s teeth gently grabbed his cock and pulled it in. He bobbed his head, shoving down far enough to lap at Dwight’s balls. His pet was trying to wiggling, skewered by the toy and unable to escape the sucking heat. 

“Looks like someone is getting close~” Danny chuckled, drool sliding down his chin. 

He grinned devilishly and sat up, pushing closer to Dwight’s trembling form and pressing his cock to his pet’s. The vibrations of the machine were traveling through his dick, and when Ghostface pressed his against it, he growled in satisfaction. He fisted them both, jerking them off as he set the toy to its highest setting. 

“Ah~Oh~Oh~!” Dwight moaned. 

“You like that. Come on, good boy, cum with Daddy.” Danny said, voice tight, already on the edge of climax. “Just like that, oh fuck, that’s my boy.”

His hips moved faster, slick fingers expertly slipping off Dwight’s cock ring. He thrust against Dwight like a desperate animal, the heat in his gut like molten lava. He chased it, grunting as his orgasm hit him like a train. He stuttered to a few jerky humps, Dwight spelling his load only seconds after, a broken keen slipping past his gag. 

Danny wrapped him up in his arms, holding him tightly, the mess sticky and warm between them. He only had half a thought to turn off the machine, his pet still bouncing on the plastic cock, tears slipping down his cheeks. Danny licked them up, hands roaming over Dwight’s body with gentle fingers, massaging his bare skin. Slowly, he untied the blindfold. Dwight squinted as it was taken off, his jaw working itself as his gag was taken too. Danny helped, slipping his tongue into his mouth and slowly licking. Dwight gently kissed back, slumping into Danny's weight as he was hefted off the toy. He whined as it popped out. The toy was kicked aside. Danny gathered up Dwight, falling sideways into the pillows, exhausted but satisfied. 

"Wasn't that nice, Dwightie?" Danny asked, eyes closed, pressing a kiss into his temple. 

"T-thank-k y-you, D-Daddy," Dwight mumbled, already half-asleep himself. His breath was evening out, already relaxed and willing to curl into him.

"You're welcome," Danny grinned, holding his pet just a little bit tighter. 

Chapter Text

Time passed. The changes in the Entity’s realm slowly began to feel like routine. The survivors grew used to the excessive brutality of the trials. Susie and Philip struggled to maintain good relations with the others. Susie - still reeling from being ripped to shreds - relayed the note Pyramid Head left for her to find. A note promising Jake and Quentin as a reward. That seemed to reignite tensions like gas to fire. 

Laurie had been skeptical. David was with her, unsure if they could trust Pyramid Head or The Huntress. Claudette, surprisingly, was vocal about her support of the plan. Nea agreed, but without really looking at the pseudo-survivors, said they needed to play their part in aiding Jake and Quentin too. They had to win their trials against Trapper and Myers. They couldn’t afford mistakes, but they could be sloppy in trials with killers like Pyramid Head. Laurie got upset at the idea. She stood and declared she’d never purposefully miss a skill check to help a killer. David begrudgingly agreed, seemingly torn in trusting Susie. 

“We have to try something ,” Meg said, voice low, her downcast face lit up by the fire.

“This isn’t a gamble we can afford,” Laurie said. “If Susie and Philip wanna play games with our friends’ lives-”

“That’s not fair! They’re our friends too!” 

Susie had snapped. She had been trying her hardest to sit quietly on the log, twiddling her thumbs, waiting for the tension to dissipate. But now Laurie was glaring at her. And so were the other survivors who had been previously swayed to her side. She shrunk back down beside Philip. 

“Don’t talk about them like you know them, killer, ” Laurie spat. 

“Maybe it’s best if only we talked about this,” Nea said at the same time, obviously trying to keep her voice from bleeding anger. “You two should leave.”

“Yeah, this ain’t somethin’ for strangers to discuss,” David said.

Susie felt his hard glare and quickly turned away, already on her feet and tugging at Philip’s wrist. She felt numb as they left without any word. Philip took the lead when they passed through the threshold of trees, taking her to the fallen log that had become something of their spot. She sat down and buried her head in her knees. She was too tired to cry. Philip patted her back, telling her to let it out if she had to. That he’d listen to her, or just sit here in silence, if that was better. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Susie whimpered. “You’re nothing but patient with me.”

Philip didn’t mention that this was his fault. He was the one to let Susie join his cause, and enter directly into Myer’s realm. 

“Because you’re my friend, Susie,” Philip began. “I don’t like to see you hurt. That’s all there is to it. In the same way you’ve comforted me, I’ll be there for you. Okay?” He held out his hand, palm open. “I have your back, and you have mine?”

Susie weakly smiled. She clasped her hand in his own and nodded. “Okay. Yeah, I got your back, Philip.”

“Good. We’ll get through this.”

They talked for a little longer, mostly about Susie’s trial with Joey and her fears of another in Ormond. Philip, too, admitted his hatred of seeing Pyramid Head. He was grateful for the killer’s dedication to the game, but had grown fond of his silent presence in the short time they’d planned their survivor rescue mission. 

“It feels selfish to be upset at what he’s doing. Because I’d be upset if he wasn’t playing as well as he could…” Philip sighed. “It’s kind of silly. I was always so lonely. I turn into a survivor, an idea I’ve day dreamed about from time to time. And its as soon as I’m starting to make friends among the killers. At least Anna tried to speak with me while she hooked me.” He laughed but it was tired. “But there is some silver lining to it all.”

“What’s that?”

“If we stay here as survivors, indefinitely, the others will warm up to us. It might be a long time, but it’ll happen. And you can share with them what happened to you. Before.”

Susie looked away, not wanting to be hopeful. Not understanding why she was hopeful in the first place. “And if we don’t stay here?”

“We have friends on the outside too. You’re not confined just to Ormond. You’re not just apart of The Legion, you know.”

She flinched. Philip worried he’d overstepped his boundaries but pushed anyway, fearing it needed to be said. 

“You’re your own person,” he continued. “I think The Entity took that from you when it brought you here.”

Susie got quiet. Philip internally panicked, already trying to come up with an apology. But Susie’s weak smile returned. She leaned against Philip and closed her eyes. “When the game is over, I’m sure Pyramid Head will stop being so brutal. I think he only joined us because he liked you.”

Philip blushed, pretending to look into the trees, so she couldn’t see. “Well, um, it’s a nice thought.”

This time, Susie’s smile turned a little smug, and she held onto that feeling. It was a long forgotten one The Legion never let her feel. They were too competitive with one another, wanting too much to out do each other. 

Even if we return, Ormond won’t be my only home, she thought. It was a nice one to have. 


The Hillbilly hadn’t been playing his trials with the same viciousness as the other killers. Philip knew it was because he couldn’t read. He had been confused and upset when he saw the two new survivors. He ran around them, weapons dropped at his feet, obviously distraught. Philip had tried to convince him to play the trial. The Hillbilly had whimpered at the suggestion, his whines turning to shrieks as claws skewered through his body seconds later. His cries were desperate and agonizing. 

Susie had tugged Philip away by the wrist, tears running down her face and one hand clasped over an ear. The exit gates didn’t open, even with the killer dead and the countdown to endgame having started. They met Meg and Nea at the closed gates. 

“Well, fuck me,” Nea sighed, giving up and sitting down, back to the metal. “It’s not our fault he wouldn’t play the game.”

“I brought this tool box for nothing,” Meg sighed. 

The runner sat down with her, burying her hands in her arms. Nea wrapped an arm over her shoulder and tucked her close, telling her that it’d be over soon and they’d be back at camp.

Susie and Philip left them alone. They wandered the cornfields until claws engulfed them, a giant one sprung through their middles. Susie braced herself for the pain of her cracking bones. She honestly never thought she'd get used to it. When she woke up in the forest, the intense ache still radiated down her arms and legs. She shakily found Philip sitting at their log, far from the other survivors. She fell into his side, and sobbed. 

“It’s okay, Susie. It’s okay.”

It wasn’t. But she appreciated the hand on her back and the calm voice, not yelling at her to stop her crying. It made her wonder why she even wanted to go back to The Legion. The thought made her bury her face in her shaking hand. A second, clashing thought had her wondering about staying with Philip at the auto yard , should they ever go back to being killers. Would Frank, Julie, or Joey even notice, or care, of her absence? 

Joey had seemed so crushed by her death. He had been crying, and Susie never saw him cry. He had mercifully killed her, as gently as he could. She had to acknowledge that he cared about her. But maybe it was because he was forced to care. They all were forced to, one way or another. 

I hate them one day and miss them the next! What’s wrong with me? I’m… I don’t want to stay here but I don’t know if I want to go back to them. 

“Susie, you okay?” Philip asked, a bit fretfully.

“I’m okay,” she wiped at her nose. “I just… if we one day… become killers again... “

“Yeah?” he asked patiently. 

“Can I come stay with you?”

“Of course you can. I’m sure Anna and Hillbilly would like to visit too.”

“Does he have a name? Hillbilly?”

“He’s tried to tell me, I think, but I’m not sure.”

“Hmm. I didn’t like seeing what happened to him. He… he was really scared.”

Both their stomachs turned, those confused mumblings turning to terrified shrieks in their heads. The Hillbilly didn’t deserve that. They fell into a long silence. 

Jake woke up, startled, the breath leaving his lungs like he had just been sucker punched. He was shivering, way colder than he’d been when he laid down. His hands reached out for Quentin, finding the boy rolled over onto his stomach, fast asleep and snoring. His hands gently pressed to Quen’s back, feeling the shift of his ribs as he breathed. He was alive, but he too was shaking. 

The fire beside them had dimmed considerably, the warm flames now nothing more than little licking, orange tongues. Jake’s heart stuttered in panic. He had to resist the urge to get up and find some dry twigs and leaves. They’d already tried that. Everything immediately turned to ash. 

“Jake…?” Quentin asked sleepily. He was blinking his eyes open slowly. They shot up in panic when he saw the state of their fire. “Oh God, how much longer do you think we have?”

“Probably not much,” Jake said in defeat.

Hopelessness was clawing at his chest. He knew Trapper had seen that note - knew he was a prize to be won.  Michael had to have seen the note too. Perhaps… Again, for the nth time that hour, he had to shoo the thoughts away with an irritable, though figmented wave of his hand. He hugged Quentin tightly instead. 

“We have each other. It’s easier with someone else, Quen. I promise, I’ll keep you safe.” Behind his words, was the fear of actually having to carry them out. Because he’d try, and certainly fail, should they be won by him. 

And Quentin, bless him, tried his best to be brave. To firm his wobbling lips and keep his eyes dry. The boredom and waiting made it hard. Too much time to think. The boy grabbed hold of Jake’s hand. 

“O-okay, I trust you. To be honest… I’m happy I’m not alone.”

Jake thought back to Dwight - back to all the times the man had kept him from punishments, and taught him how to act. It had been humiliating, to play along, maybe even more so than enduring the pain of disobedience. 

Fuck, if it’s Trapper, I don’t… I don’t know if I can do it again. I wouldn't be able to protect Quentin. It'd be impossible...

The fire cracked beside them. An ember jumped, and below it, the flames seemed to shorten even more. Smoke, dark and thick, rose into the air, not unlike if the fire had been doused in water. When the smoke cleared, their warmth was barely a few pitiful flames. The game was almost over. Quentin stared at it, trying hard not to cry again. Jake felt his own emotions try to get the best of him. 

Above them, a crow sang. It sounded like cruel laughter. 

“It’s okay, we’re okay,” he mumbled into Quen’s hair, gathering the boy more firmly in his arms. He had a terrible fear that, if he let go, they’d be yanked apart by an invisible force. Quentin gripped the hands over his chest like he thought the same thing. 

Chapter Text

Evan’s trial was almost over, his kill streak in need of one more survivor before he was done. His bear trap had snapped across the map. David screamed. The killer couldn’t help the wash of pride running through him. He found the annoying brute with a blood ankle, unable to escape the modified bear trap. It looked like it hurt. Trapper couldn’t help his small chuckle, feeling the same contentment he did with every guaranteed win. 

David saw him coming, sneering and shouting curses, unable to escape the teeth, which had been lined with sharp wire and metal pieces sharp enough to count as razor. It wasn’t as effective as the barbed wire, but it still got the job done. Evan threw his cleaver into David’s shoulder, ignoring his curses and threats. He would have entertained with the man’s anger, but didn’t have time. There was no room for mistakes. No room for stalling. Seconds later, David was on the hook, being skewered and taken to the sky. 

Evan let out a sigh. He was already in his head, thinking of how to better himself next trial. His thoughts were interrupted by a black-feathered creature, wings clapping together as it landed by the killer’s feet. Its red eyes gleamed brightly. 

“Another perfect trial, another interesting trap! I see the motivation my killer needs! Perhaps I should let the game go longer!” 

Evan tensed. But after his last punishment, he didn’t dare lash out. He juut shook his head and, though his voice was tight, came out at least a little respectful. “I understand that, even if I got my prize, I would keep building new traps. Keep ravaging the survivors in new ways to please you.”

“I know.” Came the flippant reply. The crow looked like it was grinning, it's hard beak seemingly curled in a permanently cruel smirk. “Perhaps being gifted the saboteur and dreamwalker will make you even more creative.”

Again, Trapper tensed. He didn’t want that. Not yet. Not until he got what he needed . The Entity knew it. Knew what it was doing. He braced himself and spoke. 

“Show me the entrance to Ghostface’s realm. That’s what I want.”

The crow eyed him, head jerking to the side, and for a moment, Evan feared it would bark ‘no’ at him. But the scruffy thing ruffled its feathers and flapped its wings, animated as it laughed aloud. 

“Fine- fine! Go along, take this lead.” The crow flew into the air, hovering over the killer’s head. “For this, you’re knocked down in the contest for my saboteur and dreamwalker! But the fire isn’t out yet!” 

“So? Where is it?” Evan barely heard what the rest the crow had to say. All he was fixated on this victory - a chance to brutalize the one who took his pet. And a chance to return what was rightfully his, what he worked so hard on. 

“Impatient, just like always!” The crow laughed, shooting up into the canopy. “Follow the hum! The hum!”

And just like that, the thing was gone. Evan glanced behind himself, hearing the faint drone of a familiar sound. A hatch had opened up. It’s dark edges slithered out onto the grass, the wisps of fog enticing Evan forward. It floated around his ankles as he stopped at its lip. 

It was kind of strange, to hop inside the hatch - after so long keeping it shut, or having it slammed in his face. He dropped like a boulder. His dead weight plummeted through the dark, no sound coming from the hulking man but a faint exhale as the sensation of falling gripped his body. He welcomed it. Welcomed it with eager arms. 

They were laying in bed. Ghostface had returned from a trial, sweeping Dwight in his arms and kissing him without preamble. The killer didn’t go beyond some heavy petting, tired after getting back into his usual routine. Dwight was getting used to the schedule too. He’d even taken to initiating kisses on his own, exploring with timid hands as he knew Ghostface wanted him to. 

But in the middle of it, Danny stiffened, grip turning hard - not the reaction that poor Dwight had been expecting. He nearly sobbed, wanting to apologize but too flustered to. Danny was suddenly peppering his face in soft kisses. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, Daddy’s not mad at you. But someone is here. You’ll stay nice and quiet for me, won’t you?” Danny asked, voice more serious than Dwight had ever heard it. He nodded stiffly. 

Who was here? He wanted to ask. Instead, he let out a tiny squeak, reluctantly letting Danny pull him off his lap and into the pillows. His hands lingered. 

“I mean it, Dwight. Do not make any noise. Do not answer the door to anyone but me. Do you understand?” 

His tone was scary. Dwight didn’t like it. He quickly nodded, the tiniest bit relieved when Danny’s voice softened, calling him a good boy before making his way to the door. Danny gave him another look. There was worry in his eyes, even if he tried to hide it. 

“Dammit, who the fuck-” 

Dwight just barely caught the mumbled words as Ghostface left the room. The door locked behind him. Dwight gingerly got off the mattress. His nerves had flared again. His eyes scanned around for a hiding spot. His gut was telling him to find one. To hide under the bed if he had to. 

There was a bang from below. Dwight jumped. Another thud ricochet throughout the building, followed by fainter scuffling. Dwight was frozen in place as he listened. Silence settled throughout the building. Dwight still didn’t move, even as seconds turned to minutes. He jumped ten feet in the air when, what sounded like a door, was banged against. Wood broke and splintered. Another door was ravaged the same way, the distance underlying noise drawing closer, turning to heavy footfalls and breaths. 

The intruder was on the floor below, breaking down doors. Dwight’s breath caught in his throat. It couldn’t be… could it? Another door broke, then more stomping, as if the room were being searched. 

Danny said not to open if it wasn’t him… but if it’s Master, and he finds me hiding, he’ll be so mad! But what if it’s not Master? What if it’s that clown, or that scary man in the red sweater? I… I don’t know what to do! Dwight gripped his head in his hands, overwhelmed, shaking. 

Suddenly, the door to his room jiggled. Ghostface slid inside like a shadow, mask on, and parts of his robe torn and bloody. He held out his hands and Dwight immediately ran towards him. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to - 


A painfully familiar, demanding voice shouted. His name echoed down the hall. Dwight froze, feet pausing mid-stride as he stumbled. Danny quickly ran past the gap between them, snatching up Dwight. The survivor clung to Danny’s robes, burying his face in his chest, heart beating wildly with a need to go to Master. He didn’t want to fight Ghostface, though. He didn’t know what to do. He started to sob. A hand pet at his head, shushing him, telling him to be quiet for a little longer. 

“DWIGHT!” Master screamed his name again, followed by thrashing from below and an animastic roar. Danny’s hold turned painfully tight. He was taken into the dark of the stairwell. Danny passed by the second floor. He held a hand over Dwight’s mouth as he did, Master’s rampage most audible as they passed by the metal door. He called out for Danny to appear, warning him of a slow, miserable death. 

“Where are you!? DWIGHT! DWIGHT!” 

His Master’s voice broke through his rage, faltering over his pet’s name, like he was begging to be answered. Dwight’s entire being went cold. Ghostface suddenly didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but making things right, even if that meant facing a terrible agony to make up for his failures. He started to struggle. Danny clutched at him, whispering for him to be good, to sit still-

“Dwight, dammit!” Danny snapped, more harshly than he ever had. 

It was almost enough to get his pet to stop. But he heard heavy footsteps coming towards the stairwell. Master was still shouting for him. Ghostface cursed, fingers coming up to pinch at the back of Dwight’s neck. But the frazzled man knew what would happen. Knew he would pass out. His heart leapt into his throat, and it gave him enough strength to wretch an arm free and elbow Danny in the chest. 

The killer was shocked by his submissive pet’s outburst, more than his strength. It was enough to loosen his hold. As soon as Dwight hit the ground, he took off running towards the door. Danny was screaming for him, unmindful of how loud he was, trying to snatch Dwight’s arm but falling over his robe instead. He hit the ground just as his pet shoved open the stairwell exit. 


“M-mast-t-ter!” Dwight shouted at the same time. 

For a moment, no one moved. Dwight had stumbled to a halt a few feet from a seemingly stunned and frozen Trapper, who had been stalking towards the stairs. Behind him, Ghostface was crouched like a cougar ready to pounce, but wary of the threat so close to his quarry. He backed off several steps. There was a large flat blade in his hands. 

All of Dwight’s breath had left his lungs. His Master towered over him, his labored breath behind his terrifying mask all too familiar. The fact that his Master wasn’t reacting at all made him drop to his knees. He clasped his hands together, crawling pitifully towards the killer’s boots, apologizing over and over. Master still wouldn’t say anything. Dwight was scared to even touch him, but clung to his leg regardless, crying and pleading and making a spectacle of himself. 

“I-I’ll t-tak-ke m-my punish-shment-t, I’ll b-b-be good-d! I-I’ll be g-g-ood-!”

He went deathly quiet when a large, weathered hand gripped the back of his neck. He whimpered as he was lifted. Behind, Ghostface had fled, disappearing down the stairwell. Trapper didn’t go after him. He set Dwight on his feet and held his chin, forcing him to look up. Dwight obeyed. He flinched violently when there was movement. He was shocked to find that Master was petting his face, stroking his cheek with a thumb. Dwight stared wide-eyed at the hulking man. His lips wobbled. He grabbed Master’s wrist with the grip of a desperate, dying man. 

“I-I m-m-issed-d-d y-you-” Dwight blubbered. And sickeningly, it was true. 

Master pulled his mask off. His face was tired, overworked. But his gaze was intense. It held onto Dwight’s before he leaned down and grabbed his lips in a rough, bruising kiss. Dwight opened immediately, bleeding tears of relief. His Master’s tongue explored his own, hands grabbing at his waist, drawing him in flush to a hardening cock.

“Just… just stay here,” Master suddenly demanded, a trail of saliva connecting their bottom lips. He cleared his throat, voie getting much more aggressive. “Don’t move from this hall. You came to me, so… so just don’t fuck it up, pet.” His hands kept hovering over Dwight’s face, holding him, reluctant to let go. “I intend to teach this sniveling thief a lesson. Fucker doesn’t take what’s mine.”

Dwight nodded, even if he felt bad for Ghostface. The killer hadn’t hurt him, but he had taken him from Master. He couldn’t deny the gravity of such an action.

“I-I w-w-on’t-t m-move,” Dwight stammered. “I-I’ll b-be g-good-d! S-so g-good!” 

Master had to peel Dwight off by the wrists. He held him in his grip for several seconds, and Dwight realized with dread that he was musing over a thought: whether or not to make sure Dwight wouldn’t be able to run. The killer’s cleaver sat patiently at his hip. It cruelly glinted under the dull, as if saying hello to its owner’s old pet. Long time, no see. You already forget the feel of my bite? 

Dwight held his tongue. He waited, promising himself to be good, to take his punishment, to- to - then Master let go. 

“I’m trusting you, pet.”

A hand roughly combed through his hair before the hulking killer took off down the stairwell, after his prey. Dwight was completely in shock that he was whole, let alone unrestrained! His legs wobbled. He fell against the wall and had to hold a hand to his chest. He couldn’t believe Master trusted him to stay here after he ran away! After he tried to leave through the gates! 

He pressed his forehead to the wallpaper. It stuck to his sweaty skin as he closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. He could faintly hear thrashing from below. He wanted to block it out. His pounding heart helped a bit. Dwight held his head in his hands and waited. The waiting was excruciating. He couldn’t tell if he sat there for minutes or hours. It was enough time to start panicking again. Master had to be planning a big, painful punishment. Something was going to happen. 

Dwight held in a sob. Footsteps echoed close by. Master was stalking down the hall. Behind him, he was dragging a limp, robed figure, trailing a whole lot of blood. Danny’s mask was gone. Half his face was coated red, lolling to the side and unconscious. Master had several stab wounds along his back and neck, but didn’t seem bothered by the leaking holes. Dwight pushed himself up with the wall. He didn’t let himself look at Ghostface. He stumbled towards Master and let him be snatched around the waist. 

He gasped. A rough, biting mouth attacked his neck. Trapper pinned him close to his side as he walked. His hold was sure to leave bruises. Dwight couldn’t stop himself from crying. In between his sobs, he thanked Master for showing him mercy, even if he didn’t deserve it. 

“Don’t worry, pet,” Master growled. His voice was thick with lust and anger. He kicked open an already busted door, into a room that made Dwight go white with terror. “You’ll be making it up to me.”

I knew getting out of this pain-free was too good to be true. 

They were in some kind of torture chamber. With terrible, wicked devices covering the walls and a table with restraints, set above a grate. Dwight buried his face in Master’s shoulder. 

“You ain’t the one going on the table,” Master told him. “And if you just keep being a good boy, I won’t have to teach you a lesson either, will I?” 

Dwight was slid to the ground. He didn’t want to let go, but did regardless, desperate to be nothing but obedient. He nodded furiously. 

“Good.” Master hefted Danny onto the cold metal table with a thump! The killer’s head banged against the edge, limbs sprawled out awkwardly and stiff. “Now shackle him into place.”

Dwight almost hesitated. He almost looked at Danny’s face and felt sorry for him. But there was no room for mistakes. Not now. Not after being given a second chance. He’d never gotten a gift of such magnitude from his Master before. He immediately, if weakly, grasped at the buckles . With even shaky fingers, he began to strap him in by his wrists and ankles. As soon as he managed to slip on the last restraint, he was yanked into a hard chest by the back of his t-shirt. He tried not to cry again as the fabric was ripped to shreds. The sweatpants came off right after. Dwight whined as his sore ass was groped. Master was huffing, pissed after tearing away the bandages to find his work crossed out and tainted by another’s initials. 

“Damn fucker…” Master snapped. He cupped the flesh where Dwight had been branded. The poor man held in another cry. “Ruining my mark.” 

There was a pause. The hand left the burning cuts and traveled up Dwight’s spine, once more grabbing the back of his neck. 

“That can wait. Right now, I need my whore to warm me up for the show. I missed that mouth of yours…” He shoved him to his knees. Dwight grabbed timidly at his legs, holding himself up in front of the tent. “Warm me up through my overalls.” 

Dwight licked at the fabric. The cock was pushing under his tongue. A hand groped his head, shoving his nose into the hard flesh. “Now give it a kiss and apologize for making me worry.”

Dwight apologized through thick tears, body shaking with the fear of messing up. He was too panicked to notice Ghostface coming to. Above him, Evan kept his pet busy, holding him to his crotch as he watched the thieving stalker wake up. His eyes widened in a moment of panic, muscles tensing against the restraints, before he melted into himself. He had noticed Evan and Dwight, and now adorned a shit-eating grin. 

“Fucking dammit… you trained him too good, Evan,” the killer finally said. “You got quite the prize there. You better keep a better eye on him. Pretty stupid of you to let me see him in the first place, you know. You were asking for him to be taken.”

Master growled again. It sounded like an animal. Ghostface grinned wider. 

“He’s such a good boy, you know. Aren’t you, Dwight? You trained him to suck cock like a pro.”

Dwight’s mouth had stopped moving. He immediately began to choke out tearful apologies. Stammering that he was sorry for being such a whore. Evan let him grovel for a moment, forgetting how much Dwight’s begging affected him. Then that sneaky fucker had to go and ruin the moment. 

“That sweet little tongue, making those cute noises. I’m gonna miss that-” 

Dwight gasped as he was pulled back by his neck, Master leaving him kneeling on the ground as he stalked towards the table. Ghostface had momentarily lapsed in his speech, his grin returning only a moment before he was struck across the face. He laughed, and Trapper grabbed a hold of his hair, beating a fist into him until he shut up. Danny didn’t stop smiling though, even if it was weak, the glint in his eye obviously enjoying Evan’s lack of control. 

The killer reigned himself in with a snort. Though Trapper hated to admit it, Myer’s way of revenge was better suited to this situation. No one seemed very phased by regular, old violence down here. Only survivors cried about that stuff. With killers, you had to get creative. 

But first, he grabbed Dwight, who was still cowering on the ground. He yanked him to his feet towards the table. Ghostface winked and tried to make some flirty quip. He was promptly gagged with a leather binding. Dwight was shoved chest first against the steel. Evan ground into him from behind and pressed a thumb to his mouth. Dwight immediately let him in. 

“See that?” Master continued, still looking at Ghostface. “He opened his mouth for you because that’s what he’s trained to do. He’s a trained whore. You ain’t nothing special, fuck-face. Dwight came to me, when he had the choice to stay with you.”

He said it with a touch of pride to his voice. It made Dwight’s chest swell with something light and warm. He’d pleased his Master. Hope became tangible, if hesitant, that he really wouldn’t be punished. His tongue grew more eager and he sucked until the thumb popped from his mouth. He peppered it with a few grateful kisses as it smeared saliva along his lips, withdrawing. 

“Pet. Warm me up. And don’t take your eyes off my face at all during this worm’s punishment. Understand?” 

Dwight nodded hard enough to break his neck. He was jerked back from Ghostface and made to kneel. He lapped a broad tongue over Master’s tented overalls. Trapper let out a low groan and a heavy hand gripped his head, shoving him into the hard bulge. 

“Good slut. My good, loyal whore.” The hand gripped the back of his neck possessively. He unbuttoned his straps, freeing his cock. “Show this bitch who you belong to.” 

“Y-yes-s-s, M-mast-t-ter.” 

Dwight swallowed the giant girth. Danny made a mockingly pained noise from behind, as if the spectacle physically wounded him. He was ignored, obscene slurping noises filling the torture room as Dwight’s throat was filled. It bulged, clenching and getting used to the feeling of being thoroughly fucked. Evan could only thrust for a few minutes, though, overwhelmed by Dwight’s watery eyes trained on him. He pulled out, his near-orgasm fading. God, it was nice to have his whore back. He ran a thumb over Dwight’s neck, just to feel that fluttering pulse. 

“Good boy. Good fucking whore...”

 He dragged Dwight closer to the table, so the survivor was practically underneath it. Evan tapped his cheek with his cock, asking him to give it some licks. “Don’t take it in, just keep it nice and hard for me while I work on this fucker.”

Dwight didn’t even nod. Just went to work. He was grateful to be hidden under the table, where he didn’t have to witness Ghostface’s punishment. He’d have to listen to it though, so he took Master’s cock in his hand, and tried to focus. He licked at his huge balls, working his way up to the shaft where curly hairs tickled his nose. He kept his licks light and fleeting, in between kisses, keeping the organ twitching in interest, but not enough to blow its load. From above, Danny made a choking noise behind his gag. Something meaty and wet was being hacked at. He could see Master’s body shifting above him, swinging down in a cutting motion. 

I’m not the one being punished. I’m not the one being punished. I’m not the one being punished. 

 Dwight started to shake. He ignored his own fear, sucking in one of Master’s balls to work around his tongue. He heard Master give a lusty groan, followed by more vicious hacking. Ghostface let out a small scream. It was nowhere near as frantic as a survivor’s. He was in agony, and obviously trying not to show it. 

Hack! Snap! Riiiiiip!

The table shuddered. Ghostface couldn’t hold back his screams. It sounded like he was cursing too, words muffled behind his gag, probably choking on blood and spit. It was followed by the squelching of splitting flesh. Dwight flinched when something heavy was dropped to the floor - a bloody arm that had been hacked off near the shoulder. The pale fingers twitched, and Dwight had to tear his gaze away. Master’s cock couldn’t be ignored. 

He didn’t look up when the second arm fell. Red began to drip off the table, streaming into a growing creek. It all ran down the uneven floor, disappearing into the grate. A leg came off next. Then the other. The heavy scent of metal filled the room. It reminded Dwight of his basement. He held in a sob at the thought, reaching out with a whine as Master stepped back and the cock popped free of his mouth. A hand grabbed his head and roughly petted him. 

“It’s okay, Dwight. You can have my cock again in a second. But you gotta share it,” Evan said. 

He hauled Danny off the table. He had been dismembered, blood leaking from his mouth and nose. He was tossed to the ground. He grunted weakly, but still had enough strength to roll his head up and glare at Evan, as if to say, ‘ show me what you got, old man.’ The expression crunched in pain as he was kicked onto his stomach. The cleaver ripped through his robes. The black fabric was pulled away in shreds, revealing pale skin. Evan kept the killer pinned with a boot, budging at his ass in thought before turning to Dwight. He removed his mask, then pointed at the ground. 

“Come here, pet.”

Dwight crawled over, stumbling over his own hands in his rush. When close enough, he was grabbed by the back of the neck and hauled over the top of Danny. His body went rigged, but still compliant, as he was manhandled onto his back, over the top of Ghostface’s own. Master knelt between their legs, rubbing at Dwight’s ass. Right below it was Danny’s, which Trapper gave a harsh slap to, before withdrawing a knife much smaller than his cleaver. 

“Maybe if I’m lucky, The Entity’ll let you keep this,” Evan said, pressing the sharp tip of Danny’s asscheek. 

Danny struggled a bit, but Evan just knelt down on top of Dwight, pinning both their bodies into the floor. More blood leaked down Danny’s thighs, smearing the new outline of Evan’s signature logo - a bear trap. He wrote a few other things alongside it, just out of spite. Bitch. Slut. Thief. 

He slapped the marks harshly, before pulling apart his cheeks. He lined his cock head up with the dry, clenching hole. He heard Danny suck in a harsh breath. The only sign that he was frightened, and shoved in. Ghostface jerked a bit. Blood was already coating Evan’s cock, pulling at his insides as he rutted in and out. But Trapper wasn’t paying him any mind. 

“That’s it, keep looking at me,” Evan goaded, running a hand over Dwight’s stomach, down to his crotch. 

His pet whined, opening his legs a little more. Evan was enticed to slip free and fuck the inviting hole, but refrained. He instead leaned down, pressing his chest into Dwight’s, and biting at his neck like a starving animal. He fucked Ghostface as hard as he could, each thrust burying him to the hilt. But still, Danny was keeping too quiet.

He still had time though. Evan took several minutes to leave bruises and hickeys on his pet’s skin. To mark the flesh that he had been missing so desperately. Despite the botched job on his brand, Dwight wasn’t marked in any other way. He had been clothed, in lounge wear for God’s sake! So it was no wonder his pet was being unusually loud. Ghostface had probably coddled him. Treated him like some doll on a shelf. Yet Dwight opened his neck up wider, letting his Master do as he pleased without resistance. 

“I’m never letting you leave my bed again,” Evan whispered huskily in his ear. “You’ll stay with me forever. You won’t ever be taken again. You won’t ever run away again.” His grip tightened. 

Dwight whined and nodded frantically, promising that he’d never do anything to disobey his Master. That he loved him, more than anything else in the world. That he was his world.  

Evan grinned wickedly. He left Dwight’s bottom lip bloody by the time he’d had his fill, sitting up, realizing that he’d forgotten who he was rutting into. Blood was leaking everywhere, soaking into the floorboards. But Danny was perfectly coherent. It’d take more than losing a few limbs to kill a killer. He was breathing heavily through his nose, eyes set forward like he was pretending nothing was happening. Evan gave a few more harsh ruts. Yeah, he’d have to fix that. 

He pulled out his cock and grabbed his cleaver. Dwight made a cute, frightened noise. Evan rubbed his belly, telling him to relax as he lined the blade tip up with Danny’s already ruined hole. 

“It’s okay, pet. I’m just making sure our guest doesn’t feel left out.” Evan said maliciously.

Danny’s whole body jerked. He screamed behind his gag, mostly in shock, as the cleaver was abruptly shoved forward, sliding clean through his rectum and splitting his bowels open. Dwight was frozen stiff on top of him, face nearly white as he held tightly to Evan’s wrist, his hand on his pet’s stomach pinning both him and Ghostface down. 

Dwight whimpered, but didn’t try to escape. The blade was close to his hanging balls, and Evan slid the flat of the blade along them as he pulled out. Danny couldn’t hold back a muffled scream. Dwight’s breathing grew erratic, tears bubbling in his eyes as he praised his Master over and over again, probably to help keep himself in control. Evan rubbed his cock. Dwight’s legs tried to twist shut, but they only wrapped around Evan’s wide hips. The cleaver picked up pace. Danny’s body was thrashing, trying to escape the searing pain. His leather gag must have loosened, because his cries turned to agonized but angry words. 

“Fuck you! Gah! Th-Fuck! It’s nothin-Ah!” 

He couldn’t even finish his sentence. Blood had started to pool from his mouth. Evan laughed, finally sliding Dwight off of him. His pet was yanked to his side, on his knees. He was shoved over Evan’s lap and ordered to jerk him off. Dwight reached out and grabbed the throbbing cock between his legs. He was obviously frightened of the weapon still thrusting in and out of Danny. But he dutifully kept his eyes on Master’s near manic face.

“You like that, bitch. Getting fucked on my blade? I bet a pervert like you’ll get off on this later,” Evan snarled. 

He twisted the cleaver. Danny’s rectum tore open completely. He snarled like a rabid dog - a mangled,  broken noise. The blade was yanked free. Blood gushed out, then leaked across the floor in a thick puddle. Dwight’s legs became sticky with it. He kept beating off his Master, only acknowledging it with a shaky inhale. 

Evan shifted, grabbing Danny by the hips and flipping him over. He was glaring daggers at Trapper, no longer able to make any snarky quips or jabs while trying to keep from screaming. But he did manage to lob a bloody loogie at his tormenter, aiming it so it dribbled down his chest. 

Danny was backhanded into the ground, then snatched by his hair and jerked forward. He writhed, shouting at Evan to go to hell. Dwight had fallen to the ground, cowering as he waited for instructions, keeping his eyes trained on Master’s back. 

Danny was shoved up against the table’s leg. The leather gag around his mouth was refitted, and rope was tied around his neck to keep him from moving, or looking away. Evan pulled his little knife back out, tapping his chin in thought before deciding to take off his eyelids. They were easily peeled off with two deep cuts. Danny managed not to scream while it happened. He wasn’t able to hold back when the cleaver was shoved back up his ass. 

Evan mockingly told him to enjoy the show, slapping his face a few times. He turned back to Dwight, who was already crawling meekly towards his boots. Evan squatted down and cupped his neck. Dwight lifted his chin, giving him access, his breath shaky and uneven. 

“I need to get you a new collar. New chains, too, so you can’t leave the bed…” Master muttered to himself. 

He took Dwight by the back of the head and abruptly pulled him in for a kiss. As he assaulted the poor man’s mouth, he slid him into his lap, sitting down and facing Danny so that he had a full view. Evan’s cock slid under Dwight’s smaller dick and balls. He made sure his pet was facing him, giving him enough space so he could get a clear view of his face. He rubbed his bloody cock between his ass cheeks. 

“Fucking… shit, that’s nice,” Evan growled. “Yeah, that’s real nice.”

He refrained from rutting into Dwight like an animal. Even if he dearly wanted to ruin his boy and mark him all over. He didn’t want his pet to scream like Danny. Not tonight. He wanted the thief to see that Dwight was his, and always would be. That no amount of coddling or gifts would change the lifetimes of work he put into training. 

“Did you miss me, Dwight,” Evan asked, pulling apart his ass, rubbing his cock head against his fluttering hole. He didn’t push in, just teasingly stroked back and forth. Dwight nodded frantically. “Then show me how much you missed your Master.”

Dwight immediately reached up, licking and kissing at Master’s jawline. He ground back into his cock. He paused for only a second, unused to the raw burn of being penetrated like this again, before gritting his teeth, and shoving his hips down. But Master grabbed his waist, stopping him from impaling himself. Evan chuckled. 

“Calm down, pet,” he said fondly. “Take it slow, I don’t want this to end so soon. Show Ghostface who owns you. Show him who you really love.”

“Y-you! Y-y-you, M-mast-t-ter! A-always-s y-you!” Dwight’s hands, which had been fisted against Master’s chest, now grappled along his arms, frantic in their need to do something. He almost tried to impale himself on Master’s cock again, but we lifted up slightly so Evan could rut into his ass crack. 

“And what does Ghostface mean to you?” Master asked. He was looking at Danny as he said it, grinning at the way he started to shake in anger. 

“N-noth-thing! Noth-thing! H-he t-took-k m-me f-from y-you! T-took-k m-me f-from m-my real mast-ter!” Dwight reached up and kissed at Master’s throat. “I-I lov-ve y-you! I l-love y-you!” 

Master tweaked his nipples. Dwight arched his back into the rough touch, letting out little pants and whimpers, praising his Master in between. Evan thrust upward as he pulled particularly hard on one bud, greatly aroused by Dwight’s cry. His cock head slipped inside. Dwight gasped, but the thick shaft didn’t go in any farther, playing at the rim of his ass in a mild burn. Dwight thanked his master over and over again, praying that they’d keep going slow. 

Another inch was thrust, seemingly by accident, as if Trapper couldn’t control his own thrusts. Dwight held in a pained moan. He was given a kiss on the head, which he returned tenfold to his pecs and shoulders. 

“My trained whore, always trying so hard to be good for me,” Evan nearly purred. “Fuck, I didn’t realize how much I needed this sweet, little ass wrapped around my cock. You’re right where you’re supposed to be, aren’t you?” 

He slipped a hand down between his pet’s legs. Dwight let out a moan, this time, in pleasure. When Evan thumbed the head of his dick, starting to move in languid strokes, Dwight’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. Despite how touchy feely Ghostface was as an owner, and how good it felt, there was something about Master’s rare, kind touches that couldn’t be matched by anything else. His Master’s given pleasure was a reward. He’d done good. Master was happy. Master was pleased. Dwight took another inch of his cock like a good boy. 

“Th-thank-k y-you!” he squealed. “Th-thank-k y-you, M-mast-ter! I-I’m y-your-rs! Only-y yours-s!” 

“I know. Why don’t you tell that to the sniveling weasel?” Master said. 

He turned Dwight around, thrusting another inch, almost to the hilt of his cock. Dwight braced himself against Master’s stomach, his heart racing as he locked eyes with an enraged Danny, seemingly trying to bit through his gag. He was glaring at Evan though, pointedly refusing to glance down at what he’d lost. Blood ran from his lidless eyes. Even if he wanted to watch, it must have been tunneling his vision red. 

“Tell him that you ain’t his,” Master urged. Dwight whined, sinking fully onto his cock, the girth stretching him open. Evan stilled, though, letting the pain throb to a dull ache. “Tell this fucker that he means nothing to you, that you only care about my cock and making me cum.”

“M-Mast-ter’s c-cock-k i-is th-the o-only c-cock-k I-I want-t!” Dwight cried. “I l-love Mast-t-ter! I l-love y-you! I’m y-yours! Ghos-st-tfac-ce m-means noth-thing! Ghos-st-tfac-ce m-means noth-thing!” I’m noth-thing with-thout-t y-you! Noth-thing!”

Ghostface still didn’t lock eyes with Dwight. He thrashed in his bindings a bit, but his body was too weak. 

“Hear that, Ghost-fuck? You’re nothing. This whore is mine. Even when you had him, he was thinking of me.” Evan lined up Dwight’s hole as he turned him back around, ordering Dwight to keep his eyes on him. “Ride me, pet.”

Dwight immedatrly began to move. He lifted his hips, whining at the rough friction, before slamming himself down. He hiccuped on a sob. Still, his body moved, pressing into Master’s chest as his pace picked up. 

“Th-thank y-you, Mast-ter! I missed-d y-your c-cock-k!” 

“I missed this ass,” Evan said, taking a handful of the flesh. He ground Dwight close to him, his hips meeting to match his pet’s movements. Danny made a strangled noise, but Trapper had nearly forgotten about him already, watching Dwight’s face for every twitch and tremor that passed through. 

“That’s it,” Master groaned. He was getting close. So he grabbed Dwight’s cock, continuing to jerk him off. His pet’s half-hard dick hardened quickly, leaking precum that dripped onto the floor, smeared under Dwight’s scraped knees. 

“Ah~ Th-thank y-you!” He nearly screamed, his orgasm already creeping along the edge of his gut. 

Dwight jerked into it. Master leaned over, feeling his muscles clench, and rutted into Dwight with the ferocity he was known for. Dwight screamed in between his praises, grappling with Master’s shoulders as his whole body was rocked into. He came. He was a blubbering mess as Evan finished too. His erratic rutting turned slow, easing to a halt as he lifted Dwight back against his chest. Besides their heavy breath, silence stretched for a few seconds. Danny made a disgruntled noise, glaring at them. 

“Enjoy the show?” Evan asked. He picked himself up, holding Dwight with one arm. His pet buried himself into his side, holding him tightly with shaky hands. Master pet at his head. “I hope you did, cause it’s the last time you’ll ever see my pet.”

Danny kept glaring. Evan walked towards him, kicking the cleaver still lodged in his ass. Danny gave a shrill shrike as more blood gushed free, spasming when Evan reached down to yank at the handle. His red-soaked weapon was placed back on his hip.

“Dwight. Say your goodbyes.”

His pet forced his head to turn. He had to speak between sobs. “G-g-good-d-dbye, D-d-danny-y…”

Danny snorted through his nose. Uncertain of what that meant, Dwight was happy to just throw himself back into Master, his owner already raising his cleaver for the finishing blow. Danny’s gut was sliced open. Blood ran down the drain, the sound of running liquid filling the torture room as Trapper took his leave. He kept Dwight tucked close, feeling the racing gait of his heartbeat. He grinned. 

He finally won.