SMILE, YOU'RE ON CAMERA

oh shit. his head swiftly turns, decrepit boots skidding to a halt on tile surface. a jump had gathered into his shoulders, frame stiff. who in the fuck…?

the fog has kept him as its prisoner for what seems to be… well, frankly, he’s stopped counting at all now. who knows if time moves at the same pace outside this shithole. doubtful it it moves at all? ben eyes him, the figure sprawled under a creeping shade of black, descending over him from a fridge and surrounding pantry. the entity’s simulated moonlight is the only allowance for ben’s eyes.

go.

whatever he is, whoever, the without warning, ben scrambles for a loosened brick at his feet, tossing it through the darkness and towards the direction of… someone who must be a killer he hasn’t had the pleasure of making acquaintances with yet. in the next breath, he’s gone, back through the doorway.

so intent had he been with his work on the wiring that sound besides the machine’s incessant sparking is all but gone. careless. he had forgotten–not all killers stomp their way across the forest–some wait in shadows, playing a game of patience. 

and so, with sharply distinct tip-tap, tommy freezes, searching peripherals for movement. jolts back, shoulder hitting edge of generator with his shot balance–from ghostly mask smiling opposite. tommy’s head tilts–confusion and pointed distrust; “–jesus,” he offers a slightly withering look. “can i, uh, help you?” he quickly trails off, eyebrows furrowing down. for the moment, he doesn’t feel incredibly threatened–with wall of glass between them, but guard is far from dropped, hand is never far from shotgun. all it takes is one glance at the knife used to get his attention, and he remembers exactly where he is.