#killer!david

Dwight’s first instinct was to pull away; he did not have good experiences with being held. It was never something soft and gentle and comforting. Even as a child the only time anyone wrapped their arms around him was to hold him so that other people could get him, or to carry him off and throw him or something that would ultimately lead in him feeling scared, hurt, or both. If he pulled away on the room there was a chance he could end up falling. Or, worse, he could start to fall and then David tries to stop that from happening and they both end up getting hurt. Dwight had to take a deep breath and force himself to not pull away.

He even began to relax after a moment. This was David, who could clearly floor someone with a punch, but had never made any indication that he’d want to hurt Dwight. The pizza boy took another deep, calming breath and nodded, “You won’t let me fall; got it. I’d feel better if we were inside where there wasn’t a death-drop.”

David laughed, “This fall ain’t gonna kill ya.”

“Fine, bone-breaking drop,” Dwight huffed.

David rolled his eyes, “Broken bones ain’t so bad. Look up; this is worth it.”

Tearing his eyes away from the edge of the roof and the bone-breaking drop took effort, but when Dwight was able to do so and looked up like he had been told he realized that it really was worth it. Above them was a cloudless expanse of star-filled sky. Even though they weren’t really that much closer compared to ground level, it felt closer. Dwight felt like he could reach up and pluck a star out of the sky.

He tried and it earned a laugh from David. It was Dwight’s favorite part of that night. Second favorite part. They would talk a little bit more, Dwight could settle against David and actually relax. They shared stories about childhood; their parents. David’s anger issues. Dwight’s self-esteem issues. David’s drinking. Dwight’s night terrors. David would shift them so that they could lean in and Dwight could get his first and only--

----

The Entity was cruel. Dwight thought that when he was hanging from a hook or running from his life from some killer or other, but he especially thought it when he’d get to dream something from before he was stuck going between trials and the campfire and then wake up before the best part. No one really knew what it was that Dwight dreamed about. They never really cared to ask; there were more important things to worry about. Everyone knew when he had a good dream, though. Instead of him thrashing and groaning and sometimes screaming he would look peaceful. Happy. Then he would wake up and remember how far away that dream really was and his shoulders would slump.

No one really knew what happened when someone lost hope. That was the running theory about why they were all there and why dying never made anyone actually stay dead. Maybe the Entity needed their hope? Maybe the Entity was just entertained by it and this was all a big game? Either way, no one really knew what happened when someone lost hope, or their entertainment value, or whatever it was that kept them stuck in their loop of life, fear, death, rinse and repeat. No one really said it out loud, but out of everyone Dwight seemed like he would be the first to find out.

He wanted to survive. He was not shy about telling everyone that helping them was the best way to save his own life, but there was something about him. No one asked about that, either. They probably did not have to. Dwight did not always feel like he deserved to live. He often took greater risks than he had to to save others. When escaping would be the easy way out, but staying back put him at risk. He would stay back every time. He would try to make sure everyone else had a chance to get out. He would try to save them. They were all so great and could do so much, and Dwight was just Dwight. He had never had any great talents. He had never had a supportive family or many friends. In the Entity’s realm he did not have much of anything at all. He was friendly with the other survivors, but he was awkward and shy and had a hard time getting to know them. Jake was closed off. Claudette was awkward and shy. Feng Min was-- Dwight could easily name ten times she had left him to die in order to save herself. She did not even hesitate. He hadn’t really made friends.

Dwight would have continued to dwell on his situation or maybe he would’ve tried to drop it from his mind and instead watch the other survivors in the hopes that there would be an opportunity for him to join the in conversation and actually make friends; he did not get the chance to do either. The feeling of the Entity clawing up from the bottoms of his feet through his body and into his brain was is warning about another trial. It was a feeling he had gone through before, but that hardly made the pain easier. It was like a preview of what would come if he was sacrificed. It was good motivation to get the gens done and escape instead of just giving up and letting himself be taken. The game was probably no fun to the Entity when the survivors stopped trying.

The campfire faded and Dwight felt the sensation of freefall. When his feet touched dirt he found himself at the MacMillan estate. It was the very first map he’d ever been in, which did not bring up pleasant memories. A quick look around revealed that Dwight was with Nea, Claudette, Ana, and Jake. He did a double-take, looking from one face to the other. He counted them three times. That was not normal. Not normal usually meant not good.

“The Hell?” Nea seemed to share Dwight’s confusion. “Five of us?”

Jake did not look nearly as rattled by the events. “Maybe we can get things done faster.”

“Or maybe this is some kind of bad omen?” Dwight said. He looked around, half expecting to see something horrible jump out at them. Nothing did.

Ana sometimes tried to communicate with the survivors around her. She did not seem to have any interest in it this time and instead left the group. She was efficient, but was not exactly a team player. Dwight was always a little weirded out by her, but she was in as bad a situation as any of them and did not deserve to have fellow survivors treat her poorly. The Killers were awfully enough as it was.

“She’s probably going to go start on gens. I think the best we can do is split into pairs. I’ll go with Jake, we can work faster together. Nea--”

“Decoy duty,” Nea said flatly, “I know. Pop up, get attention, then hide and distance myself. Pop up again, keep the Killy running around so you don’t get killed.”

Claudette gave Dwight a small, encouraging smile, “I’ll make sure she gets patched up if anything happens.”

Dwight nodded, “Great. Let’s go, then.”

It was good that everyone had settled into what they were doing. Sometimes it worked, sometimes the killers figured it out and the decoy was ignored in favor of patrolling generators. They would try what they could and change things up if they really needed to. Dwight was fully prepared to abandon the generator and distract the killer if Nea wasn’t able to.

It was less good that Dwight felt kind of useless. He was never the best leader, but that was his thing. Without that he was just the extra survivor. Purposeless. He sighed and shook his head, trying not to think about it. Luckily Jake did not seem to notice Dwight’s inner struggle. Or, if he did notice, he did not say anything about it. Dwight appreciated it.

Things went well for a bit. Ana must have gotten a generator done on her own. Nea and Claudette did not seem to be in much trouble. Jake and Dwight got two more generators. Things were going suspiciously well. Dwight wanted to take that as a sign that they would finish up and get out quick, but he had a sinking feeling about the situation. Something seemed off. He glanced around, not sure what he should be looking out for. He hadn’t heard the Nurse’s scream, or the Wraith’s bell. There had been no giggling or electrocutions. No chainsaws revving. That only left the Shape, the Trapper, or the newest one. The Scrapper. Dwight hadn’t actually been in a trial with that one and, from what he heard, he hoped he never would be.

“I’m gonna take care of some hooks.” Jake’s voice startled Dwight. “Better safe than sorry.”

Dwight nodded. Normally he would not want to have anyone going alone, but things had been quiet. Easy. He decided to find a generator to help things alone while Jake dismantled the hooks. Only two more and they would be ready to open the gates and run back to the safety of the campfire. If five-person groups became the norm, Dwight would not complain.

Not long after that the fourth generator was fixed. Dwight was relieved. Still no screams of pain. Still nothing to clue him in on who they were facing. He found a generator and began to sneak towards it. Maybe they’d get through just fine. Maybe there was no killer and the Entity was just toying with them. Seeing what they would do. He hoped not. He had a very clear image in his mind of the Entity as something dark and terrifying; adding a sense of humor to that did not blend well with the rest of that mental picture.

Dwight got his first clue about who they were up against when he made the mistake of stepping in a bear trap. The scream that tore from his throat as the metal dug into his legs was sure to let the Trapper know where he was. Dwight gulped and looked around. No big, scary murderer had emerged from the fog. That was good. He tried to undo the contraption, failing a few times before actually getting it. His leg throbbed with pain. Every step aggravated that feeling. He was sure he left a trail of blood on the ground.

He decided against heading for the generator. Since he was pretty sure he had the killer’s attention it seemed best to stay away from the one thing the survivors really needed to be around. He picked a direction and ran as fast as he could on his wounded leg. It did not take long for the telling sound of his head beating desperately in his ears. The Trapper had found him and was close. Knowing Dwight’s luck he was probably the obsession. It made sense; if the Trapper was focused on finding and killing him it might not have bothered as much with Nea.

The Trapper growled behind him, getting closer. Dwight’s heart beat so fast he thought it might burst from his chest. His feet pounded against the ground despite the horrible pain in his leg. His steps were out of time with the heavy footfalls behind him. Around him were crows, their caws reminding him of the mocking jeers of bullies that he’d dealt with all his life. Dwight was not sure how much longer he could continue. He ran as hard as he could, but he was not going fast enough. He closed his eyes, steeling himself for the blow. The sacrifice. If he was lucky there would not be any useful hooks in the area. Or maybe someone would be able to pull him off before the Entity came.

Closing his eyes had been stupid, but Dwight never liked seeing the end coming. His mistake was made more apparent when he ran into what had to be some kind of wall. It was sturdy and did not move when Dwight smacked into it. The nervous leader fell back onto the ground and flinched in on himself. He knew this was it.

The cleaver that Dwight had expected never came. There was no sharp, stinging pain of the rusted tool ripping into his flesh. Instead the wall Dwight had bumped into growled back at his pursuer. There was a tense moment of animalistic noises above Dwight. Growling. Dwight curled further in on himself and covered his head with his hands, as though that would help. It felt familiar, somehow. Not really in a good way. There was a roar above him.

Dwight was caught between wanting to see his savior and being too scared to look. What if the thing was only chasing the Trapper off so it could have Dwight sacrifice? What if this was not a savoire, but a new predator to fear?

He had never heard of two killers in one trial, but he hadn’t really heard of five survivors, either. Maybe it was because he had lost hope. Maybe the Entity realized he was useless. Maybe this was what happened; some mystery killer appeared and dragged the hopeless into the shadows. Dwight did not want that. He was not sure he could take any more pain. His body shook as he held back tears. He didn’t want this. He never wanted this.

The Trapper grumbled low in his throat. He hissed. Dwight almost hoped the Trapper would win. At least he knew what would happen after the hook. It was better than the mystery horror that awaited him. He looked back and peeked an eye open. Dwight opened his mouth to tell the Trapper to take him. That he wasn’t hopeless. That he didn’t want whatever was coming. No coherent words came out. Just a pitiful sob. The Trapper’s head tilted, his attention shifting down towards Dwight. He raised his cleaver and brought it down. Dwight flinched, as ready as he’d ever be for the blow.

The new killer reached out, blocking Dwight. The cleaver dug into its arm, only stopping when it hit bone. The new killer grunted; whether it was in pain or some kind of response to the Trapper, Dwight did not know. The Trapper tugged his weapon out of the other killer’s arm. He hissed again. The other killer roared. The Trapper snorted and cleaned his cleaver off on his arm, then turned and left. For the first time in his life Dwight was upset to see the Trapper go. He was left with the new killer and the possibility that he’d never end up at the campfire again. Maybe he’d die for real. Maybe it was something worse than that. He hoped not. He really hoped not.

Slowly Dwight turned his head to at the thing that stopped his usual tormentor. He could not quite make out what he was seeing. It was as though his eyes could see the killer, but his brain refused to make sense of it, keeping it hidden. Like it was too horrible to recognize. The figure was larger than him, much larger. Broad shoulders. Powerful. It was dressed almost normal. Dark jeans stained with old blood. Heavy boots. His torso was bandaged. Bloodied. His hands were wrapped like a fighter’s up to his elbows. At first Dwight thought he was wearing brass knuckles. Then he realized the metal was not worn over the wrapping. It was bursting through it, as though bone had been forced out and then somehow hardened to metal. Some kind of tattoo, dark with flecks of light that reminded Dwight of a survivor just before the Entity accepted the sacrifice, slithered up from the arm wrappings on one side. It stretched up to the killer’s neck and formed into a rose.

The killer’s face had a full beard. His nose was crooked, having been broken one too many times. His teeth as he grinned down at Dwight were sharp, more like a wofl’s grin than a human’s. His eyes were what struck Dwight as being the most familiar. He had seen them before. Dwight’s throat went dry as realization hit him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He closed it. Tried to swallow. Tried to speak again. It took two more tries before he could force out a single, shocked word.