Chapter Text
Smiity was running; out of breath, giggling to himself as an involuntary reaction to wear off his horror. Things had escalated way too quickly for his heart to handle. Not only had the group he was with gotten attacked by the grown maneater baby, but Matt had decided it’d be the best idea to give into the voices of the mask. Mind you, not even 20 minutes into the game—and half had been spent on the ship.
He looked back only to see an identical copy of Droid wearing that creepy white mask, slowly yet efficiently walking towards him; like Jason making his way to his victim. As he flashed down the stairs he noticed an exit sign, and for a second he experienced the levels of relief he never thought possible. Nevertheless, he stopped himself before lunching through the door, as he remembered he’d convinced the guys to play with a couple of mods, one of which allowed for mimicking exit doors.
Fuck, just my luck!
He was agitated, muscle memory kicking in as he tried to wipe the sweat from his forehead. His heart was pounding harshly in his chest as his head seemed to imitate the ache from said muscle to his brain.
“Guys!” He screamt out, letting a voice crack from the lack of air. “Holy shi– Is anyone here! Help!” He coughed as he ran due to a failed attempt at overfilling his lungs.
“Smiity?” An unrecognisable voice shouted from a distance.
“Yes, fuck! Where are you?”
“Dude, I don’t kno– just follow my voice; the exit’s over here!”
The words gave Smiity the needed rush of adrenaline, a push not only powered by the will to survive but mostly by the dread of an impending painful death. He focused his entire concentration towards his audible awareness, successfully recognizing the directioning of the faint voice; progressively louder and clearer.
As he turned his head in surprise of skipping over a landmine, he heard a yelp coming from in front of him. Subsequently, he felt his body hit a solid figure, not much taller than him. He opened up his eyes to the sight of John’s recognisable bunny-themed helmet—only confirming his suspicions on the origins of the voice.
Still, Smiity’s head completely ignored the potential banter-initiating comments from John as, now that it had reached its destination, it changed its focus into gettin the fuck out of that haunted factory and off that horrible moon.
“Dude, get the fuck up! Let’s go!” Smiity said, quickly bolting straight into standing position and lending his hand to the man still laying in the ground. His voice had acquired that high-pitch it did when under stress.
“Okay buddy. How about we calm down first, yeah?” John started, almost laughing at his friend’s overdramatic response.
His phrase was cut short in Smiity’s ears; as the man had already made his mind to get out of that place alive, whether it be with or without his friend. John followed him out quickly after, knowing better than to stick around for any type of crazy shit might’ve been happening before his intervention.
Once he stood outside, John saw nothing but Adamance’s foggy terrain. Very quickly though, he heard rapid panting to his left, which as he turned his head was assured to be coming from Smiity. The man was leaning against the wall, left hand on top of his chest as his right pressed against the wall for comfort and support.
Smiity could feel his knees weak, his body slightly trembling from the adrenaline draining from his body. He took a deep breath as he straightened his body; the shaky exhale proving he was in fact scared to death—or at least it felt like it.
“Smitty, dude, what happened?” John asked, letting out a dim snicker.
“I– they– fuck!” Smiity said in between inhales. His composed act breaking down as he hunched down, placing his hands on his knees and catching his breath. “Dumn baby fuck and stupid-ass mimic Matt–” He let his head hang in between his shoulders, giving up on any social manners.
John put a hand on his shoulders, Smiity could tell that behind that mask he was giving him an understanding look— still wearing the teasing grin from the beginning of their conversation.
“It’s been–” John looked at his inexistent watch; “30 minutes?–”
“–26.” Smiity corrected, once again recomposing himself and brushing John’s hand off.
“What happened to you?” Smiity asked, confusion in his tone. “Weren’t you with Puffer, or was it Pezzy? Maybe both…”
“Turret.”
“Oh– Damn… Anyways, what way was the ship?”
“So we can go– was the bridge broken– no. So, I think that's our best bet…”
“Really?”
“I think I heard Yumi shouting about some dogs… so I wouldn’t recommend the deathpit, you know?”
“Yeah… ok, let’s go bring this back.” Smiity said as he grabbed the Clown horn, Toy robot and bottles, watching the other pick up another couple of crap preemptively scattered on the ground.
Both men relied mainly on their knowledge of the map from previously played sessions in order to make their way through the fog, up until Smiity felt the start of the bridge with his foot. He brainstormed on how to approach the situation with John, and they decided it’d be best to do a couple trips, transporting one or two items at a time through the bridge. Smiity decided to first keep the bottles, he shushed his companion as he began crossing the unstable structure.
“Dude don’t you fucking dare” He whisper-screamed at John, who was teasing at the start of the bridge.
“Mmm I don’t know if I wanna” He mocked.
“I swear to god if I die right here I’m going to– Oh my god stop, I heard a creek.”
“Okay mom” John rolled his eyes.
They managed to successfully transport every item, now only having to finish the short route to the ship and they could call this a success; they had brought enough to finish reaching quota.
Together, they walked silently yet confident. Their hopes were through the roofs; a very needed change from Smiity’s past encounter.
“I can’t believe you guys managed to collect this much in such a short time” Smiity said quietly, a warm smile on his face.
“Yeah dude, what can I tell you. We’re just so good…”
“Okay, don't reach–”
“Look dude, I don’t see a single thing you brought to contribute”
“Dude, first of all, hush; second of all, what do you seriously expect me to do, when I’m being fucked from all posible angles?” His voice now slightly more irritated yet the same amount of volume as before.
“How about you stop whining about being bent over and actually do something for once instead of shitting on the people who actually fucking work!”
“Dude shut up–”
“Oh don’t tell me to shut up, I’ll show you shu–”
John’s phrase was put to a halt by Smiity’s hand. Despite being more symbolic than literal—given his real mouth was under his mask—John gave his friend a chance to explain himself. Instead, Smiity just put a hand over his own helmet, signaling his friend to shut the fuck up/srs. John only took a knowing breath before turning his head to the side, allowing him to get a slight visual of the Eyeless dog; just now becoming aware of the close growling.
Smiity began crouching backwards, giving space for John to distance himself from the monster. They were both balancing on their heels, holding onto their objects with the firmest grip possible. Knuckles were turning white under the gloves, and their bodies felt overly heavy. John could see past Smiity’s visor; his eyes were wide with fear and worry, glued onto the man in front of him whilst dividing his attention between said entity and the dog that slowly became a blur as they came closer to the ship.
The Canadian hit his back on the ship’s stairs, almost letting out a sound of ease before remembering the causation of their situation. Balancing the bottles in his bent knees, Smiity grasped onto John’s suit, tugging him to direct his attention towards the ladder. He gently placed the bottles on top of the ship’s outside floor in order to get up the ladder. As he made his way into the ship, he stopped dead in his tracks; something John didn’t notice as he ran into the man.
“Dude, what the–” He whispered, learning from his past mistakes. Quickly proven smart as he saw the dog sniffing inside the ship.
A layer of splattered blood painted the walls as Tyler’s motionless body rested under the dog’s bloodied claw. Amongst the silence, John managed to pick up Smiity’s hitched inhale; reason why he decided to console by placing his hand on his friend’s back. Just placing it, enough to feel the tenderness of his companion’s unseen smile and gratefulness in his soft eyes. This feeling almost made him forget about the event at hand; only being brought back by the audible movement of the canine.
The men stealthily made their way to the rooftop, careful to not alert the monster under them. Once they saw the dog running outside the ship, they swiftly made their way in, shutting the doors behind them.
Now safe from all outside danger, Smiity let out the breath he’d been holding in for the past couple minutes. He hugged John out of instinct, happy to have made it out of that alive. John, despite being slightly taken aback from the suddenness and absurdity of the situation, caved in and returned the hug.
“I am so glad…” Smiity started, not breaking physical contact with John; “you stopped bitching and finally listened to someone else for a change” He wheezed, an unusual kindness to an usually mocking comment.
John wanted to give one of his quick, smart and snarky comebacks—he inherently wanted to—, but something in the back of his mind stopped him from ruining such a genuinely heartfelt situation. Regardless of how much teasing he’d have to endure., both from Smiity or his friends’ spectating ghouls, he chose to savour the ephemeral bliss.