《Death of a Groundhog》
Chapter 0 - Rebirth
10th January 2022, 04:50 pm
The lights blared on as I typed monotonously on my keyboard. The work stretched on and on and on. I know this was the early stage of this company and we all need to work very hard on everything or whatever they probably said in the meetings but it¡¯s as if all of the paperwork is being dumped on me. And on my first day as well.
I have a sip of my coffee. I¡¯m thankful I even got one. They basically ran out of coffee this morning, guess people were so desperate to get to work in this shitty town. I hate it here. I hate the concrete maze that I have to call home. But not much I can do. Just have to work my way through this day then I¡¯ll finally be home free.
I check my watch, just a few more minutes to go-
¡°Hey,¡± a man walks over to my desk, probably just one of the employees of this corporate hole. ¡°John Smith, right? The boss wants to see you.¡±
I smile and thank the man and make my way to the boss¡¯ office. The boss must be very impressed by my work and I must be given a promotion and a hefty bonus. I mean what else could it be. I don''t deserve to be working in this dingy office block. I¡¯ll be at the top one day and this''ll be my first step to do so.
I reach the door to the boss¡¯ office, its presents looming over me as I stand before it. Grasping the handle, I turn the doorknob and step into the dragon¡¯s den.
¡°Hello, John Smith.¡± The boss spoke to me with confidence and pride brewing into his voice, his plastic smile grew bigger and bigger every word he spoke. I hated it. ¡°The company has deemed your work to be impeccable. However, there are some other aspects of it which are restricting your promotion.¡±
My smile grows to match his, this is it. I¡¯ll rise the ranks of this shitty company ¡®till I get to the top and all I have to do is do what he asks of me and today will signal the start of my climb to the top. The American dream will be a dream no more. All I have to do is follow the lousy instructions of my lousy boss.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°Oh. Well, thank you for telling me this. What should I do to overcome these obstacles?¡±
¡°Oh there¡¯s no need.¡± He lowers his tone. ¡°I have a simple solution right here.¡± He slides a flask onto his desk.
¡°Wh-what is that?¡± I speak, shocked at the boss¡¯ proposal. I take the flask and open it. Inside of it is a viscous green liquid which slopped around the steel chamber. I am not drinking that!
¡°Nothing you need to worry about.¡± The boss seemed irritated at my question. What was in that flask?
¡°I¡¯m not gonna drink it if I don¡¯t know what it is.¡± What sane person would? The boss snaps, for the first time I had seen, he breaks the carefully curated persona he had made for himself and finally shows me who he is. A fucking psycho.
He slams his desk, his anger prevalent. ¡°I''ve given you a chance here.¡± He slams the desk again, like a child. ¡°Drink it or you lose everything.¡± But then he stops. A smile paints his face, this time for real. His mouth grows and grows and grows and grows until-
¡°It¡¯s sad to see you have chosen wrong.¡± What. What sort of psychopath was I hired by that would ruin my life just for not drinking a flask of whatever the fuck that was?
The boss reaches for another thing from under his desk, most likely a gun. I got out of my chair but I was too slow. A bullet pierces my chest. I screech. It hurts so fucking bad. Blood pumps out of my chest as I collapse to the floor. My head feels heavy as I try and fail to lug myself away from my shooter.
The boss crouches in front of me, mocking me. I threw myself at him in a futile attempt to exact my revenge but all I got was a mouthful of the viscous liquid.
The liquid took effect almost immediately. It burned its way through my throat, down my windpipe and into my lungs. The pain was unbearable, I hate it. It burned so badly. Why¡ Why? Why make me drink acid? I had been helpful to you. Why torture me? Was it all for your amusement?
He starts to monologue as my arms seize up. I was too busy to listen to the insane rambling. The pain slowed to a halt but that didn¡¯t matter. My body lay unresponsive as I screamed obscenities in my mind. As that slowed too, a robotic voice echoed into my mind.
[System Initialised: Being ¡°0042¡±]
[Analysing Traits¡]
[You have met the conditions for: ¡°Chronokinesis (Thanatosis)¡±]
[Activating Trait]
Chapter 1 - A Lack of Spatial Awareness
10th January 2022, 07:00 am
I wake up to the smell of blood and rotten foods. What the hell happened last night? I try to remember how I got here. I was at my new job. I got sent to the boss¡¯ office. And that psychopath killed me. Wait¡ Am I dead?
I open my eyes. The surroundings were pitch black but some light still shined through. Black bin bags layered the container.
I¡¯m in a dumpster.
I heave myself out of the dumpster. Why didn¡¯t that psycho decide not to kill me? What sort of twisted plan does he have for me? Hopefully, something that doesn¡¯t affect me at all.
I check my body for any wounds on me. Nothing. How? I was shot, I remember that vividly, but I can¡¯t find a bullet hole on my body anywhere! Was it that liquid? That¡¯s probably it. What else would it be? Maybe that weird ¡°System¡± thing was it but that was obviously not real. But what if?
I decided to entertain the idea and mumble ¡°Open System.¡±
Being
0042 - "John Smith"
Age
21
Traits
Chronokinesis (Thanatosis)
That was strange. Well, Everything in the past few days was strange but this was especially strange. The grey display hovered in front of me, giving me even more questions but only one of those I truly cared for. Will this "System" help my get my revenge on the boss and what ever the company was actually doing?
I can''t worry about that here. It would be better to stress about this somewhere safe. Well at least safer then the back alleys of wherever this is. Where am I anywhere?
I look around me, again, and see what I expected. A small back alley, the only noticeable things in it was a dislodged pipe that was rusted beyond repair and the graffiti covered dumpster I just pulled myself out of. Fuck, I''m dealing with nothing here and I''m trying to take down one of the biggest men in this city. I tear out the pipe, the rust stains my skin as I do. At least I have something to defend myself when that psycho finds out I''m alive.
As I think that, I hear someone, moving though the alleys towards were I am. I clamber into the dumpster. I need to be careful. That person might be one of that psycho''s men. If they are, it''s risky to stay here but I need info on what the hell is going on. I grip my pipe and wait in silence for the man.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
A man walked into the alley, his body hidden by a cloak and his face by a hockey mask. Suspicious. He leans on the dumpster, his foot tapping. He''s waiting for someone or something.
I wait.
He waits, saying nothing. Nothing at all. Does he know I''m here? I clench my teeth. If he does, I need to get out of here. But there''s only one way out and it''s through him. I need to get out of here before whatever he''s waiting for gets here. I would be in even deeper shit if I did.
I prepare to do something stupid. Quickly and swiftly, I grab a hold of my pipe with both sides and try choke him out with it. He doesn''t seem surprised at all but that doesn''t stop me. I pull with all my might. I need this. This is the only way. It''s me or him. I continue to convince myself into continue onward with this assault.
The man slowly rases his hand under the pipe I''m choking him and, with little effort, pulls the pipe off his throat. He tosses the pipe and me with it across the alley and into the wall parallel to him.
Fuck.
I rip myself out of the wall and prepare myself, gripping hold of the mutilated remains of my pipe. I throw the pipe at the unknown man and run the fuck away. I can''t beat that! I don''t know what that thing is but I know for a fact it isn''t human. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
After being momentarily stunned by the corpse of my pipe, that thing charges at me like a bull. I take a sharp turn left into another alley, the monster ramming itself into a brick wall. I continue to run, that thing will shrug that off in seconds I''m certain of it. I need to get as far as I can from that thing in the time I have now.
The beast switches strategies, throwing chunks of brick it got from the wall it tore into. A brick strikes my leg. Then another one hits one of my arms. Shit. I grab for something to shield me from the concrete projectiles, a steel bin lid. Good enough.
I block one of the brick chunks, pacing backwards as I do. All I need to do is get to a main street, he might lose me there. I block another chunk, reflecting it into a wall beside me. He''s advancing around the same speed that I''m retreating. I can win this.
I reflect back a brick at his mask, not expecting much to happen. That hit cracks the mask and the bottom part of it falls down. That monster was smiling. It was enjoying this "fight". It disgusted me that this thing enjoyed my suffering, yet a small part of myself agreed. I did enjoy the idea of overcoming this and becoming stronger. Better. I shake my head free of those thoughts. I need to focus.
I finally step into a main street but there was no crowds of people, only a mass of traffic. This hasn''t ended yet.
I toss my battered shield at that thing and rush into the fast racing cars as they whizz by me to get to their jobs, trying to lose whatever that being was.
It didn''t move at all as I flee from it. A knowing smile painting it''s face. The bin lid hit his face, shattering the mask.
It''s face was a face I knew very well. A face very similar to my own, no. It was my own. That thing has my face.
I freeze, unable to process that. What... Is... It. It''s not me. I know it''s not me. Was it The Boss'' fault. Of cause it''s that psycho''s fault. But why? Why me. Why steal my face out of everyone else''s? I stare at that thing hatefully but there was I had forgotten in all of this hate.
A truck bashes into me at max speed, the impact crushes my bones and grinds my muscles to paste as I feel every single millisecond of it in excruciating detail. My nerves relaying every single fracture or tear to my brain until the connection got crushed by the tires itself. My mind still somehow conscious even after all that. Then, I felt cold, freezing cold, as death came over me. There no getting out of this. I''m gonna die and be replaced by that thing, whatever it is, and I can''t do a damn thing.
A thought hummed in my brain as I was dying, what if there was a way out? Could I use that trait to survive? I mentally steadied myself before focusing my final thought on one thing.
[Activating Trait: "Chronokinesis (Thanatosis)"]
Chapter 2 - Figuring Things Out
10th January 2022, 04:00 am
I wake up on the cold hard floor, smells of blood old and new wafted into my nose. I rip open my eyes, control of my body flooding back to me. I survived. I fought against that beast and survived. That thought filled me with glee. If I can survive against whatever that thing was then, I could have a chance. All I need it to get stronger. stronger to defeat that monster and the psycho that it was birthed by.
I clamber up to my feet, I don''t have any time to waste if I want to take revenge. Looking around me, I find myself in a abandoned warehouse. Not what I expected but okay, I can work with this. The warehouse was scattered with dried blood and papers, as if someone had rushed to grab everything before I awoke. This must be where that psycho did some of his experiments. The papers contained bank notices, spam letters and much of nothing information wise about what the hell they did. There were dried blood all over the little documents that actually say anything, as if it was intentionally done this way.
On a desk next to where I woke up, lay a fresh set of clothes, a blood stained scalpel and my phone, a few more cracks covered the screen then I remember. That''s suspicious but I need all I can get currently. I just have to play into whatever twisted game he thinks we''re playing.
I open my phone up to something that confuses me severely. The date hadn''t changed from the last time I check which would''ve been roughly 1 to 2 days ago depending on how fast I self revive myself or whatever that system does to me. How? I assumed that the trait was just healing me after I die but what if it''s moving me back in time to the morning of the day every time. Though that doesn''t make sense. I''m always in different places whenever I come to. If it was just that simple, I would''ve woken up in my bed rather than a dumpster or a blood stained floor.
Maybe the phone is wrong, that makes more sense but it''s still possible that to not be the case. I mean... in the past few hours or days, I''ve been killed multiple times and fought a bastardized version of myself so time travel is not entirely out of the question.
I focus on opening the system menu, maybe there''s something in there to help me there.
Being
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
0042 - "John Smith"
Age
21
Traits
Chronokinesis (Thanatosis)
The system pops up in my face, showing the same information it did when I first opened it. I read through it again and again. Firstly, the ID number surprises me. I''m not the first person to be forced into gaining this system. There are 41 people before me. 41 people who could be working with the boss. 41 people who could potentially help me. 41 people who haven''t succeeded in stopping that psychopath in bringing me into this. 41 people who have failed me.
My trait isn''t that interesting. Chronokinesis. Chronos or Chronus is the personification of time in early Greek philosophy. I know that well, my parents made that so. Kinesis as a suffix means the movement of the prefix stated. Chronokinesis is the power to move time and that other word, Thanatosis, is the way I''m moving time, which is most likely my death.
The idea of traits, however, is very interesting. What are traits exactly? Can I earn them? If I can, how? Is the trait board just telling me what I''ve achieved with my own skill or given to me by some aethereal power? Why use the word Trait? Why not Skill or Talent? Why Trait?
I shake those useless questions out of my head. I don''t have time to think about every logistic. I need to think about what to do next? How to take revenge?
¡
Augh! There''s not much I can do. I can''t go home. They would''ve known where I lived before creating a whole fucking skin-walker of me. The same goes for my parents house. They might even be happy for it, finally becoming something more than a son of failed... whatever they did. It sickens me to the core, seizing everything in my life without a second thought.
I could stay here. It''s risky but would they really think I would just stay here. It''s paradoxically the most and least safest place I can be. Or I could stay out on the street. Unpredictable but also dangerous. Other aspects could be added to the equation like thugs and the police. The police could be even in on it too. I have no idea how strong the enemy I''m facing is or how much they''ve integrated into this shithole I live in.
Both have their positives and negatives. Staying here allows me to stockpile things like bullets and documents that I get. I even get a shelter to sleep at. Leaving allows me to be able to be less likely to be ambushed, though I still can if I become too predictable. It also allows me to get stronger faster as I would fight far more different fighting styles whilst developing my own.
I think for a moment. This is a really important decision and I can''t be rash about it.
Sadly, that wasn''t my decision to make.
The door to the warehouse is smashed open and I''m met with a powerful punch to the jaw.
Chapter 3 - Life, Death and Despair
10th January 2022, 05:00 am
A fist smashes into my jaw, the knuckle duster latching onto the fist of my unknown enemy rips and tears the skin of my cheek. I bite my tongue in my attempt to stop screeching.
It hurts. It hurts so much. So so much.
I rip my face out of the punch, the gloved fist jettisoning straight into the flimsy metal wall. Turning towards the one who struck me, blood seeping from the new hole in my skin, I screeched at my opponent.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?"
The man fighting me was big and burly. Most of any features he had were covered by the riot gear that painted his body. His almost robotic voice, altered by the mask he wore, echoed around the room.
"You are under arrest for assault and battery. Do Not Resist."
Fuck do you mean I''m under arrest. My fist clenches the blood stained scalpel. That psychopath had seeped his way into the police and sent them to fuck me. I''m not going to at least attempt to resist being sent back to that lunatic.
I attempt to stab the man in his throat, attempting to disable him as quick as possible. It fails obviously. He slaps my hand away, almost insulted that I would try it.
"Do Not Resist"
I use the force he forced my hand with, swerving on the ball of one of my feet and kicking with the other. My leg strikes the head of the man, slightly stronger than I expected.
The bones of my leg crack and splinter. The man stumbles a bit. I suppress the pain and strike him again with my scalpel.
He trades my strike with his burly hands, puncturing my chest. Shattering my ribs.
"Do Not Resist"
But I continue my strike, busting into his neck. The scalpel imbedding itself into his skin.
My grip loosens on my scalpel, I stagger back as he continues his punch into my chest. The pain floods into me, almost unbearable. Blood floods out of my mouth, I start chocking on it when it does.
The man finishes his punch and I leap into the scalpel on his neck.
I need this. I need to win.
This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
I clutch the scalpel with my blood soaked hands, driving it further and further into his throat.
Blood sprayed and a now panicked and desperate man tried tearing me off him, crushing my only other leg and ripping it off. I didn''t feel it though. I was revelling in the bliss of my own success. I was winning. Finally, I was winning. And, Oh, was it good.
I mutilated his throat, stabbing and slicing the flesh until his body grew limp and cold. His blood splattered my crimson claws.
And as the titan fell, so did my high.
My emotions returned and with it came the pain.
The pain of my broken leg.
The pain of my splintered ribs.
The pain of my crushed leg.
The pain returned to me. But one bled stronger than the rest.
I had killed. It was in self defence but I still killed. Why? I could have just talked to the man but I retaliated and killed him. Who was he? I don''t know. I will never know him.
And the worst part of it. I liked it. No. I loved it. I revelled in the act. It was addicting, a small part of me wanted more. To kill more. To slaughter anyone. Anything.
But I can''t. I can''t become like them. Is this what that lunatic wanted for me to become insane like him. I won''t be like him. I can''t be like him.
My blood floods out of me, the air around me grows bitterly cold.
I want to leave. I want to run away, rush home and hide.
But I can''t. My legs are twisted and broken. I can''t run. I have to stay here. stay and stew in my own misery.
I avert my eyes away from the desecrated corpse, trying to ignore my reality. Then I see a man, a man who saw everything. Who saw me brutalize that poor man. Who saw me resist arrest. Who saw me kill.
My brain snaps back into my old ways.
I clawed my way towards the man, who eyes tore at me with seething hatred.
I can''t let this end here. I have to beat that psychopath that slaughtered me. That man must be working for them like anyone else. It was his fault he died, not mine. I can''t rot in a prison.
That man needs justice for what that psychopath did to him! I need justice!
I need justice...
A bullet imbeds itself in my forehead. Then, it went further and further into my skull. Piecing my brain and severing my connection to the rest of my body.
The man looked down on me, his face pealing away to show it''s bubbling muscles and it''s blood stained bones.
I wanted to shriek. I wanted to flee. I wanted to run up to the boss and beg for mercy.
I wanted to.
But I could do none.
I was...
¡dead.
[Activating Trait: "Chronokinesis (Thanatosis)"]
10th January 2022, 03:00 am
Light flood my cold dead eyes, the rusted metal walls of the warehouse scrape against my back.
Why?
Why does life force me into these situations?
Why does it make me kill to live then leaves me worse then I would be dead?
Why not kill me?
Why not let me die?
The pale, cold moon looks down on me, observing and always watching. Observing what I''ve done and what I will do.
Like the many others that have come before and will come after.
No. No! NO!
It''s not my fault.
It''s his.
He set me up.
He forced me to kill.
He forced me to die over and over.
I don''t know what I''ll do after this but I know what I want to do. No, need to do.
I need to get my revenge.
I need to avenge the people he''s tortured.
I need to win.
He needs to repent.
But first.
I clutch my scalpel, the blade still stained by that man''s blood.
I need to repent.
[Activating Trait: "Chronokinesis (Thanatosis)"]
Chapter 4 - Pathetic
10th January 2022, 03:15 am
I stare at my cold dead corpse, viscous blood staining the clothes which I wore.
This is proof, isn''t it?
I''m time traveling.
I smirk, I could use this to decimate those bastards. I could use this to systematically dissect their business in a matter of days. No, hours.
I don''t have to rush. I have infinite tries, after all. I can do anything! ANYTHING!
My family is safe. No, untouchable, if I play my cards right.
But there''s a problem with that.
All my mistakes will still happen.
I look on my own rotting corpse, my scalpel clenched in my cold, dead claw.
I will die, shot by my boss and forced to drink highly acidic chemicals.
I will die, ran over by a truck trying to escape a genetically modified beast.
I have died to get here.
And I will die more.
This life has been thrusted upon me
And all I can do now is face my deaths head on.
I tear the scalpel out of the corpse''s grip, tearing a few fingers off as well.
That''s strange.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
I''m stronger. Way stronger.
Maybe I get stronger by dying.
That''s sounds insane to say but not as insane as a system in my mind.
I waltz into the warehouse. I want to know what''s actually happening and I''m here earlier than when I was here before.
I clutch the door handle and tear it open.
The warehouse is clean, except for a few spots of blood and rust. The warehouse was filled with chemicals of all different sorts and so many things I could use as a weapon. Tasers. bricks. Even some empty bottles. Actually some was an understatement.
And in the centre of it all was a sickly, ratty man hunched over one of my bodies, which is laying on a blood soaked stretcher.
The man turns to me, spooked by the sudden sound of the door.
"Y-Your not supposed to be here yet."
He checks his watch, his eyes widen even further.
"3 already!"
He tries to rush past me but I stop him, my arm blocking the door.
"You won''t leave here without giving me some answers." I look down at him.
"I''m sorry, good sir. I remember your contractor specifically saying-"
I punch him straight in the chest. He stumbles back and hits a table HARD. He curls into a ball, quivering from the pain.
Pathetic. What a pathetic man.
He works with that monster and expects me to pity him.
Pathetic.
He stumbles in his attempt to get up, using a table as a support.
"Look I can''t give you answers, they have my family, but-"
I clutch his dirty, blood soaked shirt and tug him to eye level.
"And you just gave up, like that? Fight against them harder! Make them pay!"
I toss him away, he lands on pile of chemicals. The glass shattered on him, coating him with acids.
He screams for help, screams to be saved.
But I just stand there. Watching.
"Fight!"
As he screeches, the mix of chemicals burned it''s way through his throat and into his lungs.
"Make me pay for doing this to you!"
He face peels away but then grows back. Then, it peels away again. And again.
"Take revenge, you pathetic bastard!"
I smirk at his pain, he worked with that psychopath. Why would I have any empathy for that worthless crap?
His muscles start popping and crackling, bubbles forming and bursting within it as it melts away then foams back up.
"Come on. Do it."
After all...
He stands up, the acids burning up his blood vessels, staining his bones. His face burns away, Revealing his stained skull underneath.
We stand face to face. His eyes burned in a deep desire to beat me.
He was the one to kill me.
[System Initialised: Being ¡°0043¡±]
The one constant in my life.
Death
Chapter 5 - Death
10th January 2022, 03:30 am
Deaths eyes fissile out of its sockets, foaming back up stronger.
Better.
Faster.
More savage.
His body slowly grows larger and bulkier, nothing like that pathetic man I was looking down on moments earlier. That man is dead. Gone into the abyssal insanity that its torturous existence.
Or maybe not. Maybe he''s still in Death.
But I do know It wants to die. And yet it can''t.
Interesting.
Death tries to scream for help but its tongue has long since melted away.
Death wants to flee but I''m in the way.
So it does the only thing it can.
It fights.
It fights for its freedom.
It raises its fist up, its arm wobbles as it tries to get used the strength it now holds.
I take the opportunity and strike for its ear, the scalpel puncturing his eardrum. It tries to scream but all I hear is a low gurgling sound. I try to pull my scalpel out but its body is already forming over it.
I lose my grip on my trusty scalpel and back away. It, Death, scratches at the now forming lump on one of its ears before tearing the ear of completely.
Fuck.
I don''t have a weapon and I''m facing against an enemy that it growing at a faster rate than I can damage it.
But its goal isn''t to kill me this time.
It''s to escape.
To find a way to make the pain stop.
To end it suffering.
And mine.
Mine is to win.
I smirk at it, its body growing bulkier then slimmer again and again and again.
This thing can kill me however times it wants and I''ll always be back.
I CAN''T DIE. At least not permanently.
All I have to do is persist, right?
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
It will break before I do. I mean it''s half way there already.
and then I pause.
why would I want that?
why would I want a practically immortal beast rampaging across the city?
I have plans.
it would be just be a wild card.
a wild card that would-
A corroded fist shatters my jaw, the acids on its hand eats away at my face.
MY FACE!
I punch it back, catching it out whilst it was weak and frail and pathetic. It topples over and I hear the snapping of bones. I step on its frail excuse of legs.
But that doesn''t matter though. In a battle of immortals, no scars will remain.
But my face, no, my pride. It hurt my pride, the one of only thing I have left in this world anymore.
My belongings.
My family.
Not even my body is safe.
All I have left is my pride and my burning desire for revenge.
And It hurt it.
I grab one of the bottles littered on the ground and bash it onto the skull of Death, the shards of glass pooling onto the back of his eye sockets. The glass snapping off the connective nerve between the eye and the brain, making him basically blind.
But that didn''t matter.
It still had a nose.
And I smelled an awfully lot like blood.
It charged straight at me whist my back was turned. My body slamming straight at the metal sheet door, tearing it straight from the hinges.
fuck.
Fuck.
FUCK!
The pain forced me to realise something.
I can''t win.
Death is growing faster than I can keep up.
How?
There must be a way for Death to do it. Gain doesn''t come from nowhere.
As I lay there in the heaps of metal under my body, it comes to me.
The acid I threw that pathetic man onto. It must be still on Death.
I can''t believe that I didn''t think of it before.
I stand up from the metal rubble, my legs slowly twisting and distorting itself back together.
I stand up, smirking.
A plan was finally forming in my head.
I need to get Death to a river or something. Any water source.
I need to get the acid off of Death.
Death charges again, screeching bloody murder. At least that''s what I think Death is trying to say.
I try to side step Death and fail.
Death grabs my arm and, with ease, tears it off, discarding it on the cold concrete walkway.
Blood bubbles from the wound. I resist the urge to scream.
Where''s the closest water source?
I should know this stuff. I grew up here.
The- The river.
The closest public water source is the river.
I mean I could barge into someone else''s house but I don''t think I could do it without dying a few times and that''s not very preferable.
I look around for something to use as a weapon or shield or something to stop me from bleeding out. Just anything.
Fuck.
Nothing useful.
The street was basically clean.
Okay.
Okay.
I''ve dealt with worse odds.
I start to run.
Death chases after me.
It can''t see me or anything else.
It can only smell me.
I turn a corner.
Death turns the corner, tripping on a wire as they do.
That means I can use the environment to my advantage.
I clamber up a ladder, reaching the roof of the house.
As I reach the top of the roof, I collapse.
I''m so tired.
Everything hurts.
Death slowly moves up the ladder.
I don''t know where to go from here.
I don''t even know where here is.
The crunch of metal being crushed grows louder and louder.
I struggle to get up with my one arm, the strain of pulling myself up a ladder with one hand is getting to me.
I move to the other side of the roof to look at where I am.
yes.
Yes.
YES!
I''m so close.
I''m only a block of terraced buildings away. The roofs are flat. I can easily lead Death to it like this.
Death pulls himself up onto the roof and I ready myself to run.
Death starts to charge at me.
And I turn and side step Death.
Death charges past me, their arm reaches out to me and misses me by an inch.
Death tries to stop but their feet haven''t fully reformed yet.
Death stumbles of the edge of the roofs, straight into the river.
I don''t approach.
I don''t move.
I''ve won.
I lay down on the roof, joy overflowing my body.
I had won.
As the high slowed, I sighed.
This isn''t the end.
It will never be the end, will it?
If I have to suffer from this, I want to do this in comfort.
I want to go home.
Even if it is dangerous.