Notes: We finally get to see the other half of this perk, and why no one would ever want it. xD

Sam only got through one tape before it was time for trials— someone named Dylan. Adam had been right: hardly any of it was intelligible. A lot of static, a lot of single disconnected syllables; a lot of dead air and damaged tape. Whispers, too. Distorted as they played through the speakers.

She'd sat in the lean-to, staring at the tape for a full fucking hour and she could only hear two sentences. Two. On an hour-long tape. The rest of the time she'd just been thoroughly uncomfortable, apart from a brief distant noise at the end of side two that she'd had to turn the volume all the way up to hear. It sounded like a harmonica. Well away from the recorder, hardly audible at all. Odd. It reminded her of Kate.

So: the Lost Tapes. The survivors that came before. It only strengthened her theory about the clearing. And what had been on those papers Adam had? He seemed to be the file clerk or lore keeper or whatever it was around here. He'd been a teacher, right? Made sense he might take an interest in studying. Sam could only assume Zarina was familiar with the tapes and documents as well, given her interests.

There was cool moist air at her ankles.

Shit.

Trial time. Fuck, she should change, shit, she'd been distracted with the tapes. Sam stepped behind the curtain they'd lodged between logs of the roof and quickly pulled on the dark flannel and changed into her jeans, slipping feet into her sneakers to save time doing up the laces of her boots.

Items? She had her flashlight again, and a medkit— might want to bring the medkit, maybe? Who was going with her? She wasn't at the fire like most of them were, she couldn't check who was making offerings. Medkit it was. Did she have any kind of offering to make? A few trinkets from the clearing that Jake had encouraged her to keep. None of them made much sense. Why bother, really.

The clammy air rose to her knees, then her thighs.

Skills. Shit, quick, pick skills fuck fuck fuck. She was so bad at this part.

Too late, anyway.

It was a new location for her - some kind of concrete maze of rooms and corridors, full of barrels and cages and crates - but it had climbable surfaces and she'd been doing pretty well with that strategy in her trials, as people grew used to a new method of moving and hiding. (Doing pretty well except when she didn't. And getting pulled off the edge of something on her way up or down was pretty much a death sentence - or at least an injury sentence - without a flashlight for help.)

As always with a new location these days, Sam started with exploration. As she moved she tried to feel for what kind of skills she had going on.

Quick and Quiet, okay. That was good, Meg's stealth lessons had been a go-to anytime she wanted to climb without getting heard. And Feather Fall. She was used to the feel of that, that was comfortable, too. Then there was the unnamed skill that stuck on her like a fucking tick. Less reliable, though in the early part of the trial it usually gave her that advantage with getting away from the killer. Had to have a medkit on her, to heal up between hits just in case. Didn't want to lay dying somewhere, or she'd have to…

Oh. No Rebirth. Ah. And that was new, in its place. Lightweight. That was how the tape had been labeled. One set of handwriting had written Dylan, another had added Lightweight. (As much as she wanted to think it was a joke about the guy getting drunk off his ass, she highly doubted it.) She could kind of feel it, a little less resistance against the ground. Like when she fell. That same sort of lightness, good, that was probably… something useful. She'd have to ask. Others had worked out a lot of the kinks and details of their skills; undoubtedly someone had the specifics of this weird audio-transmittable perk.

She passed a sign for stairs, eyeing it warily. Probably a good idea. But these were so obviously labeled, was there a side stairwell, maybe? She'd keep going and look for something less obvious, something sneakier.

Oh Jesus.

That was a pig corpse hanging from the ceiling. That was pretty fuckin' gross, but at least it was a cooler. No stench of rotting meat.

…There's going to be rotting meat, isn't there. Of course there—

Ah. No, that was… That was a human corpse. That was a human corpse, that she was going to have to ignore right now.

Keep moving. They're not you, that's a good thing, keep it that way.

It's not like she hadn't seen people more mangled. She'd witnessed a mori from afar. But those people always came back. They all came back.

She kept moving. So many walls that looked identical. She was fucked for navigation here, that was for sure.

And there was the heartbeat.

Sam looked around, but couldn't spot any red stain. Did they get rid of it? And keep the heartbeat? She still wasn't 100% on what was possible here. Either way, since the heartbeat was going she wanted to walk, not run, and try to hide as best as possible.

A generator in the distance sputtered. The heartbeat sped up. But that didn't make any— ah. Upstairs. In that case, she'd been right to avoid the stairway, because that was definitely the way down. Good, if it forced one route, she'd at least know where the killer was coming from. It would probably be trapped, if they were dealing with the Trapper. Or the Hag. But that was fine, she'd have to take precautions but—

…Goddamn it. Another sign for a stairway. So not the only way down, and not the only well-marked way, either.

But maybe that was a positive: higher ground was probably better, anyway, probably less claustrophobic, maybe higher ceilings, higher structures to climb that would get her out of immediate view. She just needed to pick a staircase.

The heartbeat slowed, then sped up again.

Shit.

She could hear running footsteps, so she ran, too, glancing behind her to see who else was—

Ah fuck. Sam nearly tripped over her feet, spotting another masked killer, but it made sense. Legion ran fast. It wasn't Frank, though. She faced forward again, heading for a turn with a pallet, only registering the image once she'd already looked away.

Pink hair. Susie. Pinkie Pie, as Min called her (and Ace, and Ash— seriously, Sam kinda felt bad for the girl for that). Not a cute kid at the moment, though. A frenzied killer.

Sam dropped the pallet. Shit, too early. She had a slight lead, but not much, and Susie was sliding over the pallet easily, just like the survivors did.

Sam didn't get far before that now-familiar frenzied strike pierced her back, and she relocated.

Oh fuckin'— thank god. The room she'd ended up in was high-ceilinged. Top floor. Sam walked to cover and started mending. It took a second for her to be able to patch herself up, part of that backhanded aftereffect of the relocation. Her medkit was stuck, but that was the standard for this, she'd figured that out. However long of not being able to heal properly after relocation.

Once she could, she popped the kit open. Shit, could've used Claudette's skills. She'd have to make due with a well-stocked kit, even if it wasn't quite as speedy as it could be. She was mid-healing when the first hook of the trial came. The aura was well away. As was usually the case, when she relocated.

But not long after, the chime came for the first generator, so someone must be doing something right. Toolboxes? Teaming up?

Healing done. Good. All back to normal. Now it was time to try climbing these bad boys and see if there was an advantage to be had. Frank couldn't throw, so she could assume Susie didn't either. Great, no hatchets. But she'd bet Legion was good at climbing. She only had the one time to observe, and she hadn't even thought of evaluating his speed, then, but he was a quick motherfucker.

Sam grabbed at a railing, stuck her foot in a handy dandy corner angle, and gradually pulled herself up onto the pallet rack. Nice. Nice and wide, flat enough she could probably lay on her belly and be invisible to whoever was on the ground. She… wouldn't be super useful to the team… but they seemed to be doing just fine without her help. No more aura on a hook.

She had a second to think.

Susie wasn't what she'd expected. When Jeff had talked about her as a sweet girl, pink hair, multicolor braces, he'd said she was nice to him. Legion in frenzy was not nice. And her mask was kinda creepy. How the hell did she see out of it? It looked almost solid, and sewn back together where it wasn't solid. That could not be practical.

Two.

Well holy shit, they were doing—

Fuck, heartbeat. Sam stayed flat and hoped she wasn't visible.

It was when the pallet rack began to rattle slightly as a body climbed up the side that Sam remembered what Zarina had said. "They seem to zero in on uninjured survivors." Some kind of Entity-gifted intuition. Whatever it was, it was not good for Sam 'hide me forever, I never want to be found' Reid.

She scrambled onto her knees and dropped off the opposite side of the rack just in time to miss a strike at her ankles, running as fast as she could manage as a frustrated growl echoed behind her. Could really use a boost right now. God, how the hell did they just not have what they'd trained on? She'd run so much that day with Meg, why couldn't she just keep that ability?

But no, she was limited. Though she certainly felt lighter on her feet thanks to her ol' pal Dylan. Not faster, but lighter. Whatever that meant, in this place.

The growl had been like what she'd heard when Frank had come out of his frenzy. Zarina had mentioned that, too. And that should mean Sam wasn't traceable anymore. She made a sharp turn as soon as she was able, slowing and crouching and listening.

There was the sound of repair work nearby. If they'd been working that whole time, Legion would know where they were, right? Unless they were already injured.

Sam glanced down at her medkit. She had at least one more injury's worth of supplies. Maybe two if she could slap the gel pad on correctly without fucking it up. But if Legion could find her with every frenzy, she'd need that medkit to heal up. She'd taken her first relocation, she should have another. Maybe. She'd had some trials where nothing had happened at all. It was frustratingly inconsistent. A pretty useless ability, except when it wasn't.

Another scream. The aura was on the lower floor, not too far away. Susie must've run down somewhere.

She really was a kid, wasn't she? Not as young as Jeff had made her out to be, but she must be around Frank's age, right? Younger, probably, based on how Jeff had talked. So younger than Frank, who was… um… Hell, she had no idea. College aged, she'd guess. Didn't give off a college graduate air, but then again, who was she to judge? She'd dropped out before the first semester was over. She'd dropped out in under two months.

And she'd dropped out because she'd tried to kill herself and ended up committed to a psychiatric ward, terrified out of her mind by people who talked to her like an adult when she was still only 18 and had no idea what was going on.

Trying to hold her own instead of admit her failings to her parents, trying to hold out for the 72 hours, and hyperventilating and sobbing when they wouldn't let her sign herself out…

God that was miserable.

Sam was frozen, caught up in painful memories. She didn't even hear the heartbeat until it was close again.

She was never going back to somewhere like that. She didn't want their help, if they wouldn't listen to her. She'd live her life or die trying, but she wouldn't be committed again. Never again.

Her shoulder took the blow this time. Sam hadn't even run, still crouched in her hiding spot as the frenzied killer found her. Out of it. And now relocated.

Get your fucking head in the game.

But Susie was probably her age from then, wasn't she? Must be. Somewhere around there. It felt like so long ago, even if it was only a couple years.

Focus. Please. Heal.

Yeah, yeah, she could do that. Mend first. Climb. Wait for her medkit to unlock. Heal. Hide.

That was the pattern. Climbing made it easier to escape once Susie was on her, as long as she didn't jump down too early, and as long as Susie continued to miss her strikes. One time Susie hadn't bothered to lunge, didn't break frenzy right away, and Sam was still able to escape, amazingly, thanks to some careful routes. And then, of course, one time she still didn't make it.

Sam was frowning, using her last bandage while she waited on top of a wire cage, ready to drop and run when needed. No more heals left. She'd need to search for another kit or find a teammate next time. She had seen her teammates - specifically, Laurie, Nancy, and Dwight. Sam had observed a chase or two, keeping out of sight as long as possible. Dwight and Nancy both had toolboxes with them, which may have explained why they only needed one more generator.

She knew where the exit gates were. And if she got hit at one, and her relocation worked, it should send her closer to the other one. A win-win. She just had to not die before they got the last generator. Easy. She'd made it out of plenty of trials, now. More thanks to her teammates than herself, but that was just how it was sometimes. She still did her part. Usually. …Maybe not so much, this time. But she'd been distracted, caught in memories, and frenzy was hard for her to counter, and her strategy of hiding on top of tall places was working so she'd stuck to it.

Five.

And there it was. Time to head to the exit.

Sam could hear the heartbeat of the chase on the lower floor. It ended with a scream and that itch of an aura behind her as Sam got to the exit bay, where Dwight was working on the switch, Laurie beside him.

"Oh, now we see you," Laurie frowned. "Where the hell were you, Sam?"

"I was— I needed to heal, so I was hiding." Which was… sometimes true.

"Hiding isn't helping. You were useless."

"You guys got them done super fast, you didn't—"

"Laurie, go get Nancy."

Laurie turned her irritation on Dwight, full-on insulted.

"Laurie, finish opening the gate. I'll go get Nancy."

That was apparently more to her taste. Laurie swapped out with Dwight, still shooting Sam an irritable look as Dwight sprinted in the direction of the hook.

Sam could hear the heartbeat approaching. And she'd bet Legion was more interested in stopping them from making it out the exit than in stopping Dwight. She bounced on her toes nervously, eyeing the way they'd come. And there she was. Pink hair, long sweatshirt, running at them like a woman possessed.

The gate was open. Sam went to run in after Laurie, but—

Her ears rang. Ow, what the fuck. And then, knife ow. And she was relocated again. Four in one trial? It was unprecedented.

She'd been right about getting sent closer to the other exit, though. Sam focused on mending the gash on her ribs as Nancy and Dwight showed up, aiming for the gate.

There was a lot of distance between them and Susie. Time enough to open the gate.

She went to run out with the rest of her teammates. The ringing came back. It was painful, shooting straight to her eardrums, making her grit her teeth with pain. The worst she'd had all trial. And she— she couldn't get out the fucking exit.

This wasn't some kind of wall, right? There was nothing there! Dwight was waiting on the other side, watching her.

"What's up?"

"I—" This didn't make sense. Was it even possible? "I can't go through?" That couldn't be right. That wasn't a thing in her other trials. Every time she'd escaped with her team, they'd all gone out together. Or, at least, the ones still alive.

The heartbeat was coming back.

Sam jammed her shoulder against the air like she was forcing a door open. Nothing. What the fuck. What the fuck? But… but seriously, what the fuck?! The heartbeat was louder, faster, and her anxiety was rising as well. She couldn't get out? She couldn't leave? The generators were powered! She had that prompt in her head, it said exit, it said—

Unwilling Survivor.

Sam shrieked at the pain in her back, but she relocated again. Dying, though. Definitely dying. Jesus fuck. Why— why couldn't—

She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the panic.

She couldn't leave.

She couldn't leave. She was fucking stuck in the trial.

Bleeding out, though. Not the worst way to go, all things considered.

Would've preferred to make it out. Good things came to those who made it out as a team.

She could hear the hatch.

You're fucking kidding. Relocated feet from the hatch? That couldn't be right.

It wasn't. Not quite. The hatch was further than she'd thought, it was just quiet enough to find it. Wherever Susie was, she was taking her time. Maybe she was planning on giving Sam the hatch, anyway. That was fine. She'd crawl.

She'd drag her broken body to the hatch, and get out, and her team wouldn't hate her so much. God, Laurie had been pissed. If Sam planned to learn anything from her, it was unfortunately put on hold. "You were useless." Well that wasn't anything new.

Another foot. Almost at the hatch.

"Fuckin' finally." Sam pulled herself over the ledge.

Only…

Only it didn't…

She banged her fists down on the air that should be open. She could see down into the echoing dark, she could hear the wind. It was open.

Just not for her.

"You're fucking kidding me." Her voice was soft, the edge of irritation just surpassing her own anxiety. It wouldn't let her leave.

The heartbeat sped up. It felt about right, emotionally. However she felt, it was felt intensely. She just wasn't sure what that was yet.

Part of her was pissed. Rightfully so: they'd done the gens, they'd opened the gates, she was the last survivor for fuck's sake.

…No. They did the gens. You sat on your ass and hid. You did nothing. You were useless. You didn't play the game.

Right. Unwilling. She… was unwilling.

Fine. She could feel the life draining out of her, anyway. "Guess I'll die," she grumbled, tone biting. "Not like that wasn't inevitable. Fuck off, I'll bleed out." She assumed she was talking to the Entity. The heartbeat had faded again. Just her and the uncooperative hatch.

She waited.

Her vision grew dim, limbs heavy, legs unable to move.

Fuck off. Sam closed her eyes, taking her death as a win, in her own way.

Except…

She counted. She kept counting. The heartbeat came back and she was still counting. Too much time. She should be dead. She should be dead. She should.

Her throat was dry, a lump the size of a golf ball making it hard to swallow. So they were changing the rules. No peaceful deaths. She sniffed slightly, feeling tears dripping into her ears, and turned her head to wipe her face on her shoulder, unable to move much more than that.

Maybe she could. If she tried. But there was no point.

No rest. No escape. A prison within a prison.

And now she felt like an absolute idiot for crying.

I'm sorry. It was a silent plea to the Entity. Let me leave. Let me die.

Why the constant punishment? Why bring her to the hatch only to refuse to let her go?

Constant frustration.

Her whole life was always frustration. Nothing ever made sense. She couldn't handle it, never been able to handle it, it was all too much.

They wouldn't— it wouldn't— the thing that ran this place, this hell, this purgatory, it would never let her quit. She just wanted to stop. She wanted to stop trying, and give herself a break.

She just wanted a break.

Not trapped here. She wanted fresh air and clear skies and a world beyond the oppressive grey.

It washed over her again, that thing they never voiced aloud; she was never getting out. The longest-running survivors had been here… years. Maybe a decade, or more. Plucked out of time. Never changing. They didn't age, they didn't grow, they didn't get sick, and no one ever truly dies. Stagnant. Trapped in suspended animation from the real world. Doomed like Sisyphus.

On and on she spiraled, every negative emotion pulled to the fore, all the things she'd thought must have been cleared out by now after all the sacrifices. But she was an endless fount of self hate, when the time was right. Her eyes closed and thoughts buzzed in her head, snapping at her or slogging their way through heavy marsh.

Pointless. Useless. Nothing. No one. Please. Please. Please. Please. . . .

"Are you okay?"

A tiny hysterical laugh, weak and breathy, just barely escaped her. Susie. Fucking Susie. The killer was the one asking if she was alright. Sam thought even she would've left by now.

Sam wanted to say something. But her lips were trembling, pulled tight as more tears streamed down her face silently. A hoarse croak came from her throat.

"I thought you were supposed to come back. And you could take the exit, or the hatch. The Collapse didn't happen, so…"

She really did sound young, compared to other killers. Muffled under the mask. She sounded sad, too.

"Frank said you couldn't bleed out."

Another frantic laugh. That was— it was so true now. How fucking true. What kind of bitter irony was that.

"So I left, but… and then… Why aren't you going out the hatch?"

Sam tried to build up her cynicism. Her anger. Tried to have some venom in her, some push back. It might have been easier to fight with Frank. But Susie sounded almost hopeful. Sad and hopeful, like with enough encouragement Sam could just do the thing.

Sam wanted to sound bitter and sharp.

Instead, her voice broke.

"It won't let me."

And then she was sobbing. She was sobbing while there was a killer right there, someone whose job it was - and that's how Frank had put it, a fucking job - to slaughter her.

"Aww, honey…"

It was the first time she'd been hugged in years. Really hugged. Not a casual greeting hug that always made her uncomfortable, not a 'saying goodbye to relatives' hug, but a real hug.

You're a fucking idiot. Stop attaching yourself to killers.

But she was still crying and she couldn't stop and fuck she was glad it was Susie and not someone else. Not Frank. He'd be such a fucking bitch about it.

Please GOD consider survivors in this. Please. Your options are not two killers. There is a whole camp of people who could comfort you if you gave them the chance.

That wasn't the point. She wasn't— the killers weren't her options. It was all due to unfortunate circumstances.

Susie had pulled her up into a seated position to hug her, but Sam still couldn't move much more. She just put her arms around the girl and ducked her head and ignored the smell of blood. It felt so good to cry. Not out of pain, but out of loss. Grief. Mourning the life she might have had, or the death, or… something. She needed to mourn the loss. To shake and sob and clutch at somebody, and feel close to somebody, and have someone with their arms around her like they could protect her.

So fucked.

No. No, she couldn't listen to those thoughts anymore. I don't care. I know. I just don't care. Stop hurting me.

A hand was rubbing her back softly. It was what she needed and she didn't care who it was from. Not right now. Not when futility was just taking her out at the knees.

It went on a long time. Still warm.

Sam sniffed and cleared her throat, and her eyes stung.

"Feeling better?"

One last squeeze. Susie squeezed back. Sam let out a short breath. "Yeah."

"Okay." She patted Sam's shoulder. "We get ourselves up and dust ourselves off."

"I… can't do that." She could hardly keep herself upright; standing wasn't an option.

"Oh. Right." There was a pause, and Sam thought she could hear the girl's blush. "Um…"

"…You have to kill me now."

The voice came out tiny and sheepish. "…I do, yeah."

Sam's shoulders fell. She sighed. "I mean, I guess." If that's what it took to leave. Jesus, if she'd had Rebirth and still couldn't leave… it would just be chase after chase after chase until she got the hook or (if she was lucky) got mori'd.

Susie bent over and there was no way someone her size should be able to lift Sam so easily, but— "Hup we go. Just one hook. It'll be over soon, I promise."

A weak laugh made Sam's shoulders shake. Sure. Sure it would. But it was hard to feel cynical around Susie.

Which was very weird.

But also kind of nice.

…But also very weird. Supremely.

"Deep breath, here we go—"

As per usual, there was the visceral response to a hook through her shoulder, her scream cutting through the empty corridors.

Susie hugged her around the waist. "Good luck! I hope you feel better!"

Susie what the fuck are you. You are so fucking weird, I like you so much.

But also OW.

Sam felt the pincers forming around her. She could try to get off. She didn't bother. When it came time for her to struggle, she just didn't. She went into the sacrifice with grim acceptance that verged on determination. Like this place wasn't fucking weird enough already. Might as well see what happens next.

Notes: So, if you didn't pick up on it in previous chapters: US is an effect (the relocation) that only lasts as long as the user has contributed nothing to certain escape goals (generators, totems). On the one hand: wow! Getting teleported out of the killer's terror radius! Super useful! But on the other hand: wow! Being a really fucking terrible teammate! See how long your team will let that slide! The Entity doesn't like when people refuse to play its games. You better be sure there's only death, one way or another, if you spend the entire time refusing to cooperate. (This is also why this perk is entirely for this story; because I love torturing Sam, but I can't imagine anyone would want this as a perk xD Also because, in cases like this, it cancels out the end game collapse in favor of forcing a player to keep running for her life.)

And hey, Susie! I love Susie, she is baby, and you cannot convince me that the rest of the Legion doesn't do everything in their power to protect her, including taking punishment for her if/when the Entity is displeased with her performance. They need to have someone with hope, just like the survivors do.

Oh, and since there are no rules for climbing, I'm saying that Q&Q and other skills that affect noise for rushed and/or noisy actions would apply to climbing. Meaning you could make a pretty impressive stealth climbing build with Q&Q (getting up), Feather Fall (getting down/without scratch marks), Balanced Landing (speed boost), and Lightweight (extra assurance that when scratch marks do appear, well away from where you landed, they don't last as long). At least, that's how I figure in my head xD But again; I am no expert, and this is entirely theoretical. I probably sound like an idiot to people who know the game better.

One final note: I was thinking about it. And Frank/Sam would be Morrison/Reid. Meaning their portmanteau ship name would be MORREID.
I MEAN HOW PERFECT CAN IT GET.
That is all, thanks for reading, leave a comment!