Chapter Text
The morning came abruptly and harshly so. It was the first trial of the day. The peace and tranquility of the previous day were now lost to them, forced to entertain The Entity once more. Four survivors rose from their slumber, driven awake by The Entity’s calling, their minds now filled with determination and anxiety. They were given an hour to prepare, to gather supplies, offerings, and morale. Oftentimes, morale was the one that slipped past their grasp.
Not with Dwight. His expression was hard with focus, scenarios already running through his mind and what to do in the direst situations. The four stood over the crackling fire, waiting to burn their offerings at the last minute of their precious hour. Meg and Nea spoke freely, talking of other things- more peaceful things in order to calm their nerves. Everyone felt the uneasy air of calmness around them, knowing that in a few minutes, their endless lives would be put on a timer.
On one hand, a sense of ease lifted their spirits, knowing that chances of survival rose the minute Dwight had woken up. In the other, a sense of dread. The Entity often took the beast’s side, and so, survivors were very rarely favored. Not everything goes their way, and most times, it doesn’t. The day of peace had reset their patterned lives, a routine of slaughter and survival temporarily shattered. Their minds were now more fearful, more anxious, allowing more room for fault and error. The Entity had predicted this, and laughed.
Their savored hour had come to an end, conversations halted and eyes anxiously darting from one another. Dwight rose his gaze from the fire and met Davids. Nods of acknowledgment were exchanged, and then, the world turned black.
When they all awoke, the world was covered in snow. The frigid air nipped at their ears and noses, snow fluttering downwards onto their hair and eyelashes. It was cold, to say the least. Two survivors were ill-prepared for the weather, clothes far from suitable for the freezing temperatures of Ormond. Unfortunately, Dwight was one of the two. His white, short-sleeved button-up did little to protect him against the forces of nature, of which The Entity manipulated against them. Everything was to her design, after all.
The abandoned resort creaked and rattled under the heavy weight of snow and death, but it was a way-point for the survivors. The building made a method to orient themselves inside the trial’s fenced-in field, and it was commonplace to gather inside of it and begin strategizing. The wind blew harshly, burning into Dwight’s face and hands, delicate snowflakes becoming icy daggers against his skin. Unfortunately, the killer won’t be the only force they struggle against.
Dwight bit his lip, pushing himself to get to the depraved building, crunching snow and grass underfoot. Once he made it, the building felt like a small haven under The Entity’s frigid wrath. A sizable fire roared in the center of the decrepit room, contained by a wrought iron fire pit, which survived intact after years of use and damage. He was the first to arrive, already drawn near the fire like a moth to light. It was cold and his fingers already felt numb to the touch. Hopefully, a monster would kill him first before the hypothermia, though, neither are particularly desired.
Two sets of footprints follow closely behind. Dwight raises his head, ready to dart out of the building, but he is pleasantly met with Nea and Meg. If Dwight was having a conflict with the temperature, Meg was having a full-blown battle. Her entire body shook from the temperature, her shoulders and elbows bright red from the icy wind. Nea was kind enough to lend Meg her flannel temporarily, but it still wasn’t enough. The cold dug deep into her, clothes skin-tight and made for running now rendered useless.
“Shit.” Dwight stood from his spot at the fire pit and helped Meg towards the flame, her legs nearly shaking beneath her. The look on her face was one of dread as she crouched by the fire, thawing her frozen fingers. “Are you alright?”
Meg only shook her head in response, teeth silently chattering behind closed lips. “I can let her use my flannel for a little longer, I’m used to the cold- but this is still a little past my own limit.” Nea rubbed the back of her neck, grimacing at the sight of Meg’s shivering frame. If there was nothing they could do for her, she would surely die first. The weather was already affecting her psyche, and the stress did little to provide her body with heat. It burnt to breathe the freezing, dead air of Ormond, it was even worse to exist in it.
A last, final set of footprints began to trek towards the building, each step full of intent. Again, Dwight readied himself to run, eyes trained on the entrance of which they echoed from. To their horror, a hulking figure appeared in the decaying doorway, skin ashen and cracked from The Entity’s manipulation, a near armor made of skin. Hooks and steel thorns adorned its shoulders and arms, and a bone mask framed its face, a terrifying grin of iron nails and shrapnel aimed towards the trio. This monster was familiar to the three, one which had been there since the beginning, and was known solely as ‘The Trapper’.
Surprisingly, Meg was the first to act. She selflessly released herself of Nea’s thick flannel jacket, throwing it towards her as she stood to her feet, ready to run.
“Scatter!” Dwight’s voice reverberated harshly inside of the building, his firm instructions followed without hesitation. Both him and Meg ran outside the same exit, but Nea was unfortunate enough to catch The Trapper’s attention. A silent nod of encouragement was sent her way, one that both asked and motivated. ‘You can do this.’ Nea understood, and she ran. ‘Distract him and survive.’ Soon, the building, The Trapper, and Nea were all out of sight as Dwight and Meg ran through the snow.
By the time the two stopped running, a single generator rang out, an indication one had been finished. David. Their heavy breaths burnt their nose and lungs, ice seeping deeper and deeper into their systems as they headed towards the lit generator. Meg had begun to lag behind, petite body unable to withstand the cold in her track field clothing. Dwight was cold, but his thick khakis and sturdy dress shoes made it more bearable. They arrived at a small structure, maze-like in its quality, tiles and walls seemingly half-built with windows and gaps. Meg stopped in her tracks, shoes soaked through with snow and ice, legs nearly buckling underneath her.
His eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed into a grimace as he stopped and began to search inside of a chest nearby. There had to be something. Something that would prevent Meg from freezing to death. She stood nearby, having found a metal barrel fire to unthaw herself once more. Dwight’s fingers had long since lost their feeling as he found nothing of use except for a camping aid kit, which was of little use right now. “Goddamn.” Meg cursed under her breath, a plume of condensation leaving her chapped lips, “I’m gonna freeze to dea… death before that monster gets me.”
“I’d- I’d honestly prefer the monster.” Dwight frowned at her comment, despondency never got them anywhere in the trials.
“Let’s pray that neither happen, and that we find something to help you.”
“Great. L-Let me just ask The Entity to drop- drop down a mink fur lined Prada c-coat…” Her voice was thick with sarcasm, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks as the wind blew harshly into her eyes. Dwight sighed, frustrated, while Meg averted her gaze and muttered a small apology for her pessimism. Killers themselves were never affected by such trivial things like the weather or temperature, and most times, survivors weren’t affected either. It just seemed as if Lady Luck had left their side, if she were ever there in the first place.
The familiar crunch of snow underfoot entered their short-lived conversation. Dwight peeked his head from the wooden wall, checking for friend or foe. Thankfully, it was a friend. David King glanced over, his gaze meeting Dwight’s as he surveyed the surroundings. A quick wave of recognition was exchanged from one another, signaling to come closer to the maze-like tiles.
“Oi, you two doing alright?” David’s voice was gruff, his throat dry from the stale, cold air. He quickly went behind a tile wall, precautious as to not grab any unnecessary attention.
“I could be better,” Dwight answered back, rubbing his hands against his arms, making any attempt as to warm up, “Meg, though…” He gestured towards her with his thumb.
She raised her gaze from the steel drum fire, meeting David’s, “I’m going to freeze to death by the time we get three generators done.”
“I won’t be of any help if I’m constantly freezing, and last we saw Nea, she was giving The Trapper a run for his money.” Her gaze flickered over to the faint silhouette of the resort, “At least, I hope she is.”
Dwight bit at his lip anxiously, what could he do? He was supposed to increase the effectiveness and survival and morale but he was hopeless right now. Meg would die out here in the cold, a more peaceful death for sure, but one that was long and harsh. No one wanted to die, and albeit they always came back, the experience was always brutal on the mind. Traumatizing, even. Lost in his thoughts, Dwight began to pace, something which he rarely did. His mind was racing, the beginning of the trial was already difficult, meaning it didn’t bode well for the rest of it.
He was knocked harshly out of his thoughts as David grabbed him by the shoulders, nearly shaking him out of his contemplation. “Get a ‘old of yourself, Fairfield! We don’t need you being a nervous wreck.” Dwight knew he was correct, but his mind continued to race, eyes constantly flickering from one spot to another. Until they landed on David.
“Your jacket.”
“Eh?”
“Lend Meg your jacket, you have a sweater underneath, right? You can survive in that sweater.” Dwight’s brown eyes were pleading behind his thick, framed glasses, “You’ll get the jacket back eventually.”
David’s gaze switched between the shorter man and Meg, her attention caught on something other than their conversation. She was still shivering, her sleeveless top exposing skin to ice and snow. Blood vessels worked hard in her body, narrowing at the extremities and flushing her shoulders and elbows in a bright red. Without help, Meg would lose coordination, consciousness, and eventually succumb to cardiac arrest. Hypothermia would kill her slowly and painfully. David knew this.
He grumbled something under his breath before removing his jacket, a grey woolen sweater underneath. The sweater was thick enough to shield him from the forces of nature, yet fitting enough to line the muscles of his body. Dwight looked away, knowing David was quick to pick up on his fits of staring. The taller British man walked over to Meg, tossing it over for her to catch. Her eyes widen at the charity from David of all people, mumbling a quick and genuine thanks to him.
The jacket was many sizes too large for her smaller, slimmer frame, but it provided much needed heat from both the thick material and the previous wearer. She quickly fastened it closed, keeping the heat insulated as she stood from her spot. Nimble fingers undo braids as she lets her hair cascade downwards, providing minimal, but much appreciated heat to her head. Meg had a more determined look on her face, less hopeless, less cynical. “Nea’s been running that damned killer forever. We need to get generators done now .”
Nods of acknowledgment rise and are traded once more as the newly formed trio set to find a generator. The cold felt less harsh, less painful as they ran against the wind. Before, the snowflakes set their faces and hands aflame with an icy burn, but now, their minds were too preoccupied with something of more importance: survival. Looking towards the sky for any sign of a generator, they are quick to find its flickering lights, unable to retain a constant luminescence with unstable electricity. A three-person generator comes into view and they begin to work without hesitation.
While on the generator, they examine their surroundings, to orient themselves is something necessary to their survival. A pallet stood a few meters away between piles of abandoned trash, a small looping area to distract and survive. Even further was another maze-like structure, full of windows and a pallet or two if they’re lucky. Having participated in these brutal trials over and over again allows them room to learn and remember. Structures and areas often repeat, but not everything is the same. It would be much too easy if everything were the same, for both survivors and killers.
Numb hands and fingers worked tirelessly to repair the broken generator, Dwight mumbled instructions to the two beside him, increasing their efficiency greatly. After years of studying and fixing these machines, he had nearly perfected the repairing of one. If they were to ever escape The Entity’s grasp, he would make a damn good repairman. After a few minutes, they had almost completely finished the generator, electricity practically buzzing off of its heaving metal frame. Then, the sound of metal clamps echoed through the resort, followed by an ear-piercing scream. Nea had stepped into a well-placed trap.
Meg stood from her spot, ready to run after their teammate, but Dwight was quick to interrupt her. “Get back on the generator, it’s nearly done.”
“But what about—“
“Just a few more minutes, we can go get her after this has finished, I’m sure she’ll live.”
Meg’s eyes flared with a fit of short-lived anger, “But she’ll get hooked! That’s fucking painful, Dwight!”
“You weren’t going to reach her anyway, she’s across the entire map. We need to get this generator done, or else we’ll be wasting more time.”
The ginger woman pursed her lips, holding back a few bitter words before returning to her spot on the generator. She knew he was right. Nea was across the entire resort, even with her speed, she wouldn’t have been much help for her. After a few painstaking minutes pass, the generator flooded with light, running smoothly with newly renewed energy. And just a moment later, their stomachs dropped. Another scream pierced the cold air, ringing in their ears as the familiar voice cried out. Their teammate had been hooked.
Their understanding of each other’s lives was just as unknown as their understanding of The Entity. For some reason, they knew each time a survivor was hooked or hurt, sick or asleep. It came as an itch in the back of their minds or a nauseating drop in their stomachs. That awful feeling flooded them with a sense of dread, each of them well aware of the pain and suffering from being hooked on those hellish hunks of metal.
Each hook was just as painful as the last. Of course, after years of abuse and torment, they gained a small resistance against screaming their heads off or soiling themselves at the pain. Something a few survivors had unfortunately done during their first trials. There was a slim chance at escaping the hooks, but each attempt shattered bones and provoked The Entity’s hunger. Only a handful of survivors were confident in their ability to escape, but unfortunately, Nea was not one of them. She hung there, defeated, soft groans of pain leaving her lips.
Meg stood once more, with a more determined look on her stern face, “I’m gonna save Nea. You two find a generator and hurry.”
“We can only hang for so long.” She muttered a small warning, a reminder as she turned on her heel and sprinted from her spot, leaving the two men in the dust.
“You ‘eard ‘er Fairfield.” David turned to Dwight, hope in his voice as he followed suit, readying himself to run for a new generator. “Let’s get to it.”
Dwight only nodded, a small smile creeping onto his lips at David’s unexpected boost in morale. With that, the two trekked through the frozen wasteland of Ormond, quickly finding a generator as planned. But, something was off. A few precious minutes pass on the generator, then the few precious minutes turn into a half-hour. Nea hadn’t been rescued. Meg hadn’t been hurt. So what was happening? Dwight bit at his lip, anxious as he continued repairing the third generator. Hypotheticals and nervous ramblings began to buzz in his head, ones which became apparent as his fingers slipped, causing a small combustion in the generator.
“Oi Dwight, the fuck? Yer the last person I expect ta bust a gen’.” David peered from the other side of the generator, continuing to work on it after the harmless explosion.
“Yeah- I know- just… something’s not right. Nea and Meg-”
Before Dwight could finish his sentence, both men felt that nauseating drop in their stomachs, followed immediately by a woman’s scream. Meg’s scream. Dwight’s fears come true as Meg thrashes about on The Trapper’s thorny shoulder, kicking and punching but to no avail. It wasn’t long before she was hooked herself, a painful sacrifice to The Entity’s appetite. Dwight noted she hadn’t been wounded, seemingly plucked from something- a locker, another generator, maybe Nea herself. But none of that was of any concern as he began to run.
David’s voice echoed behind him, calling out, yelling about something. He wanted to take Dwight’s spot, to rescue Nea and Meg. Not because he had the brave burden of being the team’s savior, but because Dwight would be selflessly putting himself into danger. Out of the four, Dwight was not particularly the strongest at his ability to evade. At times, his quiet, awkward manners granted him a few more minutes of survival- but right now he was not being quiet. He was running, readying himself to rescue his teammates or to die trying.
By the time Dwight reached Nea, those wretched, spider-like arms had completely formed around her. But she was not dead. Beads of sweat formed at her temple as she wrestled The Entity for her life, struggling to keep its horrifying appendage away from her face. Dwight reached for her, the spindly legs retracting at his presence.
“Fucking shit!” Nea whisper-shouted as the hook slipped from the gaping hole in her shoulder, her shoulder shattered beyond use.
“Shh- Nea- I’ll get you out of here, we just need to-”
Behind them, a large shadow loomed over.