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Water leaks from a crack in the pipe on the ceiling, dropplets falling, adding to the puddle underneath it.
The plic of dripping water echos through Wastewater Treatment, serving as white noise to Alexei’s ears as the watcher makes his way through the sewage system, walking down the same halls he’s walked through time and time again. The faint humming of a generator being repaired tells him that he’s going in the right direction.
Alexei quickens his footsteps, boots tracking murky water onto the dry concrete as the buzzing noise grows louder and louder paired by the sound of breathing, which only becomes audible the closer he gets. The watcher spots someone working alone on a generator. A blonde, messy, mop-like excuse of a head of hair peaking out from behind the generator while the survivor tugs at the random wires inside, hisses and crackles of electricity flying out of the machinery with every barely-passed skillcheck. He doesn’t seem to notice him. Moron.
He sneaks up on the tracker, who seems too busy trying to not explode his generator to notice; until the other man peeks his head up.
The watcher makes direct eye contact with Kelvin for a total of one, two, three full seconds. Bright blue eyes briefly glancing into his own dark ones before the tracker looks back down to continue pulling at his handful of wires—only to do a double take a moment later; head snapping back up again, eyes wide as he finally processes that the person walking towards him was not, in fact, another survivor.
”Oh shit—!” Kelvin yelps, dropping the generator’s wires in favor of running away from the immediate threat. The generator explodes, dark smog providing a split-second smokescreen before being fanned away by his hand. Alexei gives the machine a harsh kick, catching the tracker turn to bolt up the stairs out of the corner of his eye. The watcher huffs, giving chase as he follows the other man through the conveniently-human-sized-hole in the wall.
Kelvin fumbles for his walkie-talkie, “The—hah—the killer is- after me!” He shouts into the speaker, shrieking when Alexei lunges, his baton just missing the other’s back by mere inches as the tracker runs through the pipe, heavy footsteps bounce off its metallic walls. Kelvin reaches the end of the pipe, jumping down and landing on the cold, wet floor. The watcher can hear the distinct noise of yet another generator being blown accompanied by multiple footsteps as he approaches the opening soon after. Looks like he led him to even more survivors. Lucky him.
Alexei doesn’t bother to stop to wipe the droplets of water that get onto his helmet when he lands in the few-inch-deep sewage water, nor does he bother to kick the generator behind him—not yet, anyway.
He, instead, follows Kelvin, who beelines towards the door at the other side of the dimly lit room. The watcher prepares to lunge once more, catching up to the tracker quicker than the other man could anticipate. Alexei raises his baton above his head, “You’re not worth the words—“
The locker door flies open, hitting Alexei right in the face. He grunts, watching as Elijah sprints out from his hiding spot before running in the opposite direction, exiting through the other entrance. Behind him, he can hear the tracker cackle at his misfortune. The watcher shakes his head to clear himself, recovering from the earlier assault quick enough to grab the tracker by the back of his sleeve, tugging him back. Kelvin flinches, arm shooting out to latch onto the closest thing he can in an attempt to pull himself away; that being the still-open locker door.
It only half-sorta-kinda-works, as Alexei stumbles just a little, grip remaining onto his arm. Kelvin’s grip on the door tightens as he slams it into his face, or rather his helment. The watcher kicks out his leg in retaliation, sweeping the other mans feet from under him, resulting in the tracker slipping in comedic fashion, falling to the side—and into the locker with a bang.
“You— that’s cheating!” Kelvin hisses, glaring as he rubs his shoulder. The watcher leers back at him, readying his baton to strike. “Skill issue.” He replies, stricking Kelvin right in the head—
“Eat this!!”
He feels something drive itself against his back, the impact of the hit combined with him being caught off guard leading him to stumble forward, loosing his grip on his weapon, the baton all-too-conveniently falling from his hand and away from arms reach. He grunts as he falls against the tracker, hearing the locker be slammed shut behind him, something sliding through the handle after it. “What the actual fuck—??“ Alexei curses, slamming his body against the door to open it. The door makes a loud bang with every hit, but alas. No dice. It doesn’t open.
Peeping through the small window that at least grants the watcher some sort of light, he can vaguely make out the silhouettes of two survivors. They’re talking to each other—voices hushed into whispers that are definitely about Alexei’s current predicament. “Is this the best you could do?” The watcher calls out from inside, elbowing the door in emphasis, which only serves to startle them both into fleeing, footsteps dissapearing into the distancd.
Alexei groans, he’s trapped in a locker; his baton is outside said locker; there’s something outside the locker that’s preventing him from breaking out, somehow; and there’s no chance someone would be dumb enough to open it. Now what? There’s only him, the four walls of his newfound prison, and…
The watcher makes eye contact with the other man infront of him, and he makes out through the dim light that they’re looking back at him with wide eyes. “Uhhh…” Kelvin’s voice dies out as soon as it came, eyes flickering from Alexei’s face to the wall then back to Alexei. He glares back at the tracker, brows furrowing. “As if this couldn’t get any better.” The watcher clicks his tongue, keeping a close eye on his forced-locker-buddy as if he’d somehow escape if he looked away for a second. Which was very unlikely considering the lack of anything other than metal walls.
Kelvin rolls his eyes, irritation etched onto his face. “It’s not like I want to be in here,” the tracker retorts, “with you, no less.” The corner of Alexei’s mouth twitches downwards, not like the tracker could see it through the watcher’s helmet, which quite literally covers everything but his eyes. “Yeah, sure, you didn’t mean to enter the locker while I was behind you, of course.” He jeers.
“You pushed me in??” “Blame everyone but yourself, sure.”
The two of them stay like that for a while, Alexei with his back up against the door and Kelvin against the back wall, both stuck in the dark as hell locker with no other company than the sound of the others breathing and the distant buzzing of slowly finished generators. They stare at eachother in their shared not-coffin, completely silent. It’s like a game of chicken, whoever strikes up conversation first is… something. Probably.
Alexei watches as Kelvin begins to grow restless; the tracker shifting in his spot, leaning on one side to the other, changing his standing position every few seconds. They tap their foot impatiently, eyes gravitating towards a corner, like there’d be anything in here that wasn’t a lungful of dust.
(Even if there were, it’d be too dark to see it, anyway.)
Eventually, the tracker reaches his limit, agitated after the several minutes of staring at absolutely nothing. They groan, opting to kick the locker door to free himself—like Alexei hadn’t already tried doing something similar. “Hey— hey!!” Kelvin shouts, the sole of his boot colliding with the metal as hard as it could. “Is anyone there!? Hello??”
Kelvin’s yelling is only answered by the echoing of his outburst and the distant sound of a generator being blown, which, isn’t really much of an answer. Yet still, they persist, landing another blow to the door behind Alexei.
Bang after bang after bang, if it wasn’t obvious that no one was going to come by, it certainly was now. Kelvin’s repeated kicking only grew louder and louder, more force behind the last—and it was getting redundant. “Stop that.” The watcher grits at them, “You’re so annoying.” The tracker only huffs in response, kicking the door one more time just to spite him. “What’re you gonna do about it? Punch me with your twig arms—?”
Alexei does, in fact, punch Kelvin right in the cheek. “Ffuh—fucking hell…” The tracker chokes out, gloved hand reaching out to rub the rising bruise where the watcher’s fist had just acquainted itself with. “Loser.” Alexei snorts at them, which elicits a kick to his gut, the tracker’s foot digging into the watcher’s torso while he coughs. “Oops!” The tracker grins triumphantly, “My foot slipped.”
The watcher pries the leg off from him, shoving the other man to the side, slamming their face onto the dusty wall.
“Oh,” Alexei sarcastically drones, “My hand slipped.” He applies more force to his hand, as if to crush Kelvin’s head with his palm. Or maybe to just keep them there. The tracker grabs the wrist pinning them to the wall, attempting to pull it off of him—which quickly leads to him punching the arm repeatedly when he can’t. “Get- get off me!” They strain out, gritting his teeth as Alexei leans closer to their face, getting to eye level with the tracker. Dark eyes peer through his helmet, through their visor, and into their own blue ones. “And what’re you going to do?” The watcher said mockingly, hand moving up to grab Kelvin by his hair, fingers tanglng themselves in blonde locks, threatening to just pull them from their roots, scalp and all—
A fist finds itself flying towards his face, right in between the eyes. The tracker’s knuckles don’t make contact with skin—Alexei can thank his headgear for that—but the throw itself was sudden enough for him to flinch, to stumble back just a bit, the iron grip on Kelvin’s hair loosening just enough for them to lunge, throwing his body weight at him. “What—!?”
They slam themselves against the watcher, pushing them up against the locker door, the metal making a loud bang when Alexei’s back meets with it. “Ghack- fuck!” The watcher grunts, pushing back against the other man, who throws another punch, which recieves a kick to the knee back, which is retaliated with an elbow to the chest. Their fight goes on for awhile, the two of them throwing each other around their cramped locker, exchanging blow after blow after blow, each dirtier than the last. Kelvin’s visor is cracked at one point; the tracker pries off the watchers helmet in order to land a punch to the face; they slam each other into the wall, attempting to gain the upperhand again and again—
Creak—!
Alexei hears the screech of old, rusted metal. He feels something tilt, something shift, something dipping him closer and closer downwards, gravity turning on him. His gaze shoots over to Kelvin, who stares back with wide eyes.
“Shootshootshoot—!” He feels a hand grab the front of his jacket, hauling the watcher inwards—closer to the other man. Kelvin grits his teeth as they pull both themselves and Alexei against the back of the locker, trying to teeter it away from falling and putting them in an even worse position. “I could—ack—use a little help here!?” The tracker quips, hands moving from tugging his jacket to grabbing his back, trying to pull the watcher to their side of the locker. Alexei regains his mobility, scrambling to push back with them, body flushed against the tracker’s as he forgets their earlier scuffle. For now.
The locker creaks and groans with every movement, with every push to keep it from forcing the both of them into laying on top of each other until the rest of the non-trapped survivors make it out; and god knows when that’ll be. A bang reverberates througout the dim sewer tunnel they’re in as the locker is successfully kept upright until further notice. Alexei lets out a sigh, thankful to at least be able to stand upright, feeling the tracker’s breath fan against his face— wait what.
Kelvin pants, wiping the sweat off of their forehead. “Phew,” He slumps against the metalic wall. “That was close!” They laugh, and from what the watcher can make out through the shitty red lighting that creeps in through the lockers peephole, their visor has a crack ran across it—a result of whatever hit Alexei had thrown at them earlier. Payback, probably, for when they’d snatched his helmet to sock him in the nose properly. Of which he thinks is now broken.
(He should get the surgeon to fix that after he gets out. Would the surgeon help with that?)
Whatever, irrelevant. The tracker’s laughter dies down as they make eye contact with the watcher, blue eyes peeking through messy hair, and into Alexei’s own. And then they’re silent, for once. No grunts of pain, or loud complaining, or banging of their makeshift coffins walls. Just the sound of breathing, of a nearby generator left half-done, the dripping of a leaking pipe.
Alexei stays quiet, too. The silence puts a whole lot more emphasis on their proximity. Too much emphasis, he feels. Kelvin’s hands are still on his back, gloved palms somehow warm on his back, lingering. They stay there for awhile, unmoving, still; as if the locker would suddenly topple over and crash on the floor if they did as much as breathe out too loudly.
The watcher scans the other mans face for some sort of tell, some sort of indication of what the tracker could be thinking. If there’s even anything in that head at all. He stares at them, and they stare back. It’s almost as if they’re the only two people here. Or maybe all the dust in the locker they’re stuck in is finally getting to him. Alexei snaps out of his thoughts when he sees the tracker open his mouth so speak.
”Your eyes are actually pretty cool up close.” Nope, nothing. There’s absolutely nothing in his skull. The watcher huffs. “Your breath reeks. Shut up.” Kelvin gawks at his words, so easy to rile up. ”Hey! I brush my teeth!” He retorts, jabbing a finger into Alexei’s chest. “And you like girls with cat ears! You reek!”
The watcher lands a knee onto the tracker’s gut, more halfassed than his earlier hits. “Ack— screw you!” They shout, giving Alexei a shove to the shoulder. “Who even just tells someone their eyes are cool,” The watcher steps back, furrowing his eyebrows at them, “To a stranger no less.” Kelvin shrugs, languid. “You just seem like someone who’s never been complemented in his life.” He says, “No harm in doing a little charity work now and then!” Alexei is going to punch this stupid fucking tracker through the wall—
“The exit gates have been opened.”
The mist rings in both of their ears, the tracker’s shoulders slump at the announcement. “About time!” They groan, Alexei rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you could even escape.” He quips, “You can’t even get out of a locker.”
Kelvin huffs, crossing his arms smugly. “They’ll come for me—it’s not like they’d just leave me behind!”
“Like they haven’t already.” “Shut up!”
…
Bonus:
Mamo slams the locker shut behind the watcher, sliding her bat through the handle of the doors of that one and the one next to it.
She huffs triumphantly, stepping back as she places her hands on her hips, watching the man inside bangs at the door; a fruitless endeavor. It’s a wonder how nobody in the mist has ever thought of just… keeping a killer in the locker like this! It’s genius! It’s foolproof! And it’s all thanks to her and Elijah that had scored her team a guaranteed victory—!
”Mamo?” A voice calls from behind her. She whips her head around to look at the nurse, Arlo. “Why is your bat… there?” He asks, eyeing the blocked locker warily. Mamo beams at the older man, “I trapped the killer in there,” she starts, “There’s no way he can get us now!”
Arlo glances at her, then at the locker, then back at her. “You trapped him,” he repeats in a nervous tone, “In that locker.” He points at the locker the softball star had just shoved the watcher into. Mamo nods, “Yep!”
“That locker. That locker right there. With the bat.” “Yes! Is something wrong?”
The nurse’s face pales at her answer, a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek. “Mamo…” Arlo shudders, as if he’d just seen a ghost other than the ones he’s already seen. ”…I saw Kelvin enter that locker first.”
Mamo’s face drops, eyes wide as her head snaps to look at the locker she had just locked. “…Ohh.” She mutters under her breath, “…Ohh, shit.” She fucked up. She fucked up so badly. The softball star turns to look at Arlo, “Well, uh,” She stammers before clearing her throat, “I’m sure Kelvin’s fine! He would’ve died by now if he wasn’t!” The softball star grins sheepishly. “I think he can handle being in a locker for the entire round… right?”
Arlo stares at Mamo, unconvinced. He opens his mouth to speak before glancing at the locker, watching the hunk of metal like it’d explode into pieces. The nurse turns his head back to the other girl, lowering his voice into a whisper. “I don’t think it’d be safe to just… leave him in there—“
Another bang comes from the locker, louder than the first few attempts. “Is this the best you could do?” Calls a voice from inside. The watcher. Both survivors instantly decide that one casuality would be better than eight, running away to complete generators along with the rest of their teammates.
Sorry, Kelvin!