Chapter Text
Shedletsky had been utterly decimated in the past few rounds, barely scraping by against John Doe by circling him endlessly. His body refused to cooperate, his senses dulled, and his arm trembled with weakness.
As the latest round began, Shedletsky's hatred flared up once more. "Fuck, not again," he muttered to himself.
Miraculously, he found himself the last survivor, with 1 hour and 56 minutes remaining.
The familiar strains of "Meet Your Maker" filled the air, making Shedletsky's blood boil.
In his weakened state, Shedletsky stumbled and tripped, giving 1x the opportunity to catch up. "W e a k," 1x sneered, as Shedletsky struggled to get back to his feet. A swift kick from 1x sent him crashing back down. "And where do you think you're going? C r e a t o r."
Shedletsky's usual defiance had given way to despair. Instead of fighting back, he went limp, shivering like a child as he curled up on the ground. 1x's hatred wavered, replaced by concern as they realized Shedletsky's body temperature was alarmingly high.
"What the...?" 1x thought, putting aside their sword to gently hold Shedletsky's forehead. "If he dies from this fever, I'll blame John Doe."
1x carefully lifted Shedletsky and carried him to the ball pit wall, laying him down gently. "W34k," 1x taunted, but Shedletsky remained silent.
"0h s0 now y0u'r3 s1l3nt?" 1x pressed, but Shedletsky didn't respond. Instead, he fell into a deep sleep, exhausted.
"W h 4 t," 1x muttered, unsure how to react. They stood there, watching over Shedletsky's sleeping form, their hatred momentarily dying down