Meg had always wondered about the killers. Much of her free time was consumed simply in her own thoughts and imagination, and a decent amount of it pondering over just them. It wasn't like there was much else to do in the Entity's realm after all.
The thoughts occupied her and kept her away from her miserable circumstances. They did partially at least. However, the most frequent question she had, and subsequently the one with the most curiously leeched onto it, was about the humanity of their killers.
Meg knew very well that many of them had once been human, many still were even if in physical stature only. Of course there were the strange alien like killers and those among the most monstrous. But Meg continuously wondered if any of those were were once human like her still had emotions beyond sadistic pleasure in killing. Not many seemed to fit the bill. Though some were much less brutal than others.
Maybe they just hid their enjoyment well.
The Shape was a prime example of that, and the only reason the survivors knew that Michael was by far the worst killer there was because Laurie had experience running from him in her past life. Most survivors didn't know much about their killers.
Meg could still distinctly remember the feeling of chills she'd gotten when the blonde had recited Dr Loomis' description of his history as Michael's caretaker. The nurture vs nature debate sprung to mind, although Meg couldn't say she was very convinced that someone like him or Ted Bundy would change willingly.
Yet despite Michael's reputation and her own convictions, Meg still couldn't shake the feeling in her chest that there was something more to the white mask.
And if that was the case, then what about the other killers that didn't act like a demon in human skin? The ones that the survivors only had vague hints to regarding their history were a mystery. Particularly the oldest killers.
The Trapper, Wraith, Hillbilly, Nurse, Huntress, Doctor, and the Hag.
Virtually nothing concrete was known about them, and all of the veteran survivors including Meg herself never knew their respective killers before the fog. But the other survivors would just argue she didn't have a specific killer like how Bill didn't.
However Dwight, Claudette, Jake, and herself had arrived at the same time, equally confused, untrusting, and terrible at trials. For a while they were the only four, breaks were scarce, death and failure were frequent, and success or freedom seemed impossible. The latter still did, even after so long.
The Trapper, Wraith, and Hillbilly had been as inexperienced at the game as the survivors, it had turned into a limbo of both sides improving, giving the illusion that nothing changed at all. Both gathered more knowledge of how to best play the game and counteract each other.
Games of the original four vs one of the original three were beyond rare, only one had occurred since Ghost Face arrived.
And the concept of "respective killers" hadn't even been a thing yet, there was three known killers and four survivors, only when Nea and the nurse showed up was it first thought of. And only after David showed up was it made official.
No one knew who's respective survivors the original killers were. Nea had the Nurse, Feng had the Doctor, Ace had the Hag, and David had the Huntress. However, Bill and one of the original survivors didn't have a respective killer. Though it was widely believed the first four did.
Meg would also admit to being curious about it herself. Was The Hillbilly her respective killer? Was The Wraith? Or perhaps was it The Trapper?
But Meg burned with curiosity to know, she wanted to know the past of the Trapper, the Wraith, and the Hillbilly, wanted to know if they still had some humanity left in them or anything they might have to help them get out.
But that was a dangerous path, they were the most experienced despite there being killers like The Nurse with more powerful abilities. They were the best, they got the most perfect games, they were the hardest to loose in chase. They were the most terrifying to all but the most experienced of survivors.
Like her.
More time spent in the fog and non stop trials in the beginning meant she and her friends knew each map and could maneuver them blind. The scariest thing to Meg about the trio was that their abilities weren't as outright powerful as The Nurse or Michael, but took more skill and risk. Because they had long since perfected their abilities.
Every survivor could attest to the dread of facing one of them. They could never predict where the traps were until they snapped on their ankle, they never could juke the Hillbilly, and no matter how hard they looked the wraith would evade their sight until he was right behind them.
Her friends could do rather well against the original three, but even so, it was just a matter of time.
The original four were the only ones who could flawlessly beat them anymore. If there were any other survivors but them, those others would die. Of course that wasn't to say that they always did fantastically, sometimes the original four would all get caught, but it wasn't a guarantee of death like it was for all others.
It was sick and twisted in a way that the four knew the trio so well that only they could ever escape without dying. Some twisted form of a bond or understanding.
Meg had at first unintentionally created a hierarchy system when the newer survivors started arriving. Nea, Feng, Bill, Ace, and David were for the most part, exceptions. They were veterans in their own right, although there was an unspoken acknowledgement of the original four's skill. Borderline mastery that surpassed their friends.
For a while Meg had thought that Feng would be the last person to ever really be "in" with their group. Then Kate showed up, she was the least experienced in her friend group but certainly the heart of it.
She was among the "exceptions" as Meg would refer to them, giggling in her head at how silly it sounded.
But this system was really to help maintain her and the other three original's sanity.
Claudette was sweet, smart, caring, a great medic, and among the most intelligent of all survivors. Jake was the survivalist, having a more practical skill set of survival and evading an incoming predator. Dwight, and maybe Adam, were Claudette's biggest contender for smartest survivor. While having been borderline unable to function from nervousness at first, Dwight had retained his shyness, but was more than able to do what ever it took to survive and help his friends, especially when it counted.
The four of them were "the originals" as dubbed by Nea, who refused to call them otherwise.
Little Swedish brat knew exactly what she was doing.
Some survivors were...not as trust worthy as others, unlike the beanie loving punk.
Meg just wrote it off as not knowing them as well as her friends. She hadn't spent as long suffering trials with them. Hadn't gotten to speak with any of them or learn who they are as intimately as the oldest survivors. Thankfully nearly ever single one of the other survivors were approachable people, even if their beliefs and motivations weren't well known.
Adam's natural liking of kids made him rather approachable to most of the girls, Jeff had interesting stories of art, and new ones since he was forced to branch out and rely almost entirely upon wood carving.
But they still weren't explicitly friends, conflicting opinions backed by stubbornness bred from fear and pain was a tough barrier to crack.
The newest survivors were always the worst, even people like Adam had been an absolute pain to reason with when they first arrived. Too much Hysteria and disbelief that it clouded logic and sense.
So Meg subconsciously created her hierarchy system, simple psychology created a complex around the originals that they were the most experienced, and therefor had a say in almost everything important. They were looked up to for the most part, sometimes even by those older than them.
Pride and the hierarchy of age wasn't a huge factor in it... well that was slightly untrue. Meg would never tell the newer survivors but she had a soft spot for Bill and Ace, often taking their advice over her own judgement.
Her friends would also never let it spill because they all did too.
Perhaps pride still did exist, but being brutally tortured and killed certainly was humbling, especially when everyone else you knew had gone through it too. They'd all seen each other at their worst.
That didn't mean they still didn't have dignity and decency. Only the clown would ever take it far enough as to make them feel violated. Only he attacked that part of them, not even The Shape went that far.
Thankfully the system kept the new survivors from doing something too stupid, such as causing unnecessary fights among themselves, but even then it was only so effective.
However, the dread that settled in Meg's stomach wouldn't leave no matter how long she waited or how hard she tried to distract herself. These newest survivors made her nervous.
A natural rebellion for authority to the point of stupidity, normally that wouldn't be enough to worry Meg, Nea was like that, but these newer survivors didn't just spray paint graffiti on old abandoned buildings. Nor did they show a capacity for maturing like Nea eventually did.
These people wouldn't let much slip about their personal backstories, but they were more than willing to let information about the others slip.
Felix knew quite a lot about Elodie and the same onto him.
Elodie was obsessed with finding her parents, having largely gotten her answer from her own kidnapping, but she was a cultist. Much more willing to push the limits of legality to get what she wanted.
Felix was not that. He was an architect, actually a rather unique and interesting career. Respectable even, at least to Meg, but he was on the selfish side, less prone to instantly start planning the best way to help a survivor who was downed or hooked than others.
It wasn't even a smart hesitation like with Feng. Where the Asian knew that if she didn't finish the generator she was on before saving someone that she could doom them both. So she'd get that done before saving them, buy them all some breathing room at the cost of her friend staying on the hook for an extra twenty seconds.
No Felix didn't have that instant instinct to save the survivors. He was more likely to get the gate open and taunt the killer while a survivor hung or bled out on the grass.
He had his moments, most of them had been not long after he arrived. Whether he did it out of compassion or thinking he'd survive longer or entirely if there was one more person to take the killers attention away from himself, it was still appreciated.
Felix and Elodie had known each other since they were kids, only separating for a few years before both being taken. They had rather quickly bonded with Yun Jin-Lee.
She too hadn't been forthcoming with her own past. Meg did know she was connected to the trickster behind being more than just being each other's respective counterparts. Yun Jin had let it slip that once the trickster was a musician and that Yun Jin had been his manager. However there seemed to be more than just that as well.
She hadn't worked with him for very long apparently, claiming to have moved on after she got suspicious of him.
But the three of them were unusual around each other, all three had the hesitance to save others if it risked their own survival, but apparently it didn't apply to each other. More than willing to turn around and work with others if it meant saving their "friend".
The feeling of dread still never lifted at seeing them selflessly risk themselves for their obvious friends. It only seemed to grow, insidious, yet painfully obvious, almost literally.
All these reminiscent memories and thoughts swirled inside Meg's head which was draped in a naturally ruby red curtain of hair. Unfortunately it lacked its usual glossy luster after an unknown amount of time in the trials. Perpetually dampened with the even darker shade of crimson blood and black dirt.
Her eyes opened, crystal blue in a sharp contrast to her hair, snapping every which way in a calculated yet paranoid manner.
It wouldn't have been the first time a killer and survivor spawned almost on top of each other.
She stepped forward, going in a small circle looking for a generator. She found one quickly, choosing the easiest side to reach a loop from and getting to work.
No one else joined her, so she was most likely alone for now.
Hopefully she'd get a short break and wouldn't have to worry about the killer and be able to get the gen done in one shot.
Hopefully she wasn't stuck with Yun Jin and her gang either.
Perhaps she could just do all the gens and ignore them for the whole trial. Between the three of them they'd be able to distract the killer for five gens if they had a little bit of luck.
Her eyebrows unconsciously furrowed at her own thoughts. Yes the three could be selfish in trials and insufferable outside of them, but she wasn't one to wish death upon others.
'It takes a monster to know one'
Meg almost screamed at hearing the voice through the fog. She didn't thankfully, Jake's teaching of an iron will saving her from being hunted, at least in a traditional sense.
It didn't stop her from violently flinching as if struck and whirling around in a panic, heart racing and blood roaring.
But the silence of the forest in response was almost deafening.
There were no survivors, there were no killers, only the cold, damp, and empty visage that she remained in.
Perhaps visage was not the proper term, facade, that's the one.
Meg settled, briefly questioning if she had been shocked by the Doctor into insanity and was hearing things. She couldn't remember any electricity in this trial, but his electroshock therapy liked to mess with their memory, forgetting which survivors they were with, who was chasing them, how many generators or survivors still remained.
But no, she couldn't hear any more voices or see anything unusual, The Doctor's phantoms didn't suddenly appear staring at her, and working on the generator felt normal.
So she settled back to just that, pondering over what she had heard.
She wasn't a monster, she loved her new family, that couldn't be called into question. Even if she was with survivors that weren't family, she still cared about them. They had to stick together, couldn't give up hope, it was all they had left.
The generator sprung to life, now exposed and in bright flood lights, Meg crept to the nearby trees of the Macmillan Estate.
Her heart beat never sped up, so she should have been safe, although it could have been a stealth killer.
At the thought she scanned the area around her, searching for the crouched form of The Pig or Ghost face, the expressionless mask of Michael. Or worst of them all, the shimmering form of the invisible Wraith.
Seeing nothing, but still as nervous as ever, she continued to wander through the trees looking for another generator, or a teammate.
The continued repetition of these trials was getting to her, voices speaking to her from the fog, no teammates around, no known killer in the match either. What was happening? She knew she had circled the entire map now, She knew the Macmillan estate better than any other map and here she was, reduced to going in circles both figuratively and literally.
Not a single other generator was done with the exception of the one she had started on, there was just nothing.
Until she heard footsteps right behind her.
Almost screaming a second time she whirled around to see a female figure of her own stature right behind her. Same height, same build, even a similar posture and manner in which she carried herself.
Well, this figure was standing upright, unafraid of the potential danger this realm had, while she was hunched and about to sprint for the hills.
But when Meg noticed all the blood and ash over the girls clothes she soon realized that the girl had no reason to fear a killer. Who would if they already were one.
Blue skinny jeans, what looked like a T shirt collar poked above a red and black hoodie with a large belt and running shoes. Her hands were hidden in the long sleeves of her hoodie, the hood pulled up hiding her hair, and a mask covering her face.
The mask had two eye holes and a fang filled smile carved into the wood with cracks running along the entirety of it. The smile only reaching partially through the mask, concealing the mouth and jaw behind it.
It was eerily similar to the Trapper's. Only this mask had a bright fiery red glow from the cracks and actual fire dimly glowing in the eye holes.
Meg found herself unable to move, her muscles remaining locked in their stationary position. And there was no heartbeat with this killer, was it a stealth killer? It didn't seem like it, it couldn't be revealed like Ghost face, didn't growl like the wraith and didn't have a distorted appearance like The Spirit.
Meg took a hesitant step forward, and so did the figure. It copied the frantic step back that followed as well, perfectly synchronized. The unearthly whisper from earlier announced itself again, speaking unintelligibly from the distance.
It seemed the figure didn't like the whisper either, a noticeable tenseness appeared in it's frame even if it maintained its copying of Meg's movement.
Examining the new killer closely she saw ash coating the arms and back of the neck on the hoodie it was wearing. Blood splattered across the chest and wrists. The hoodie wasn't massive, falling perfectly to the girls hips and just above a belt. On the belt was several items, what looked like a heart necklace carved from wood, as well as a few other randomly carved wooden pendants or jewelry.
There was no visible weapon, but now that Meg was looking in that area it looked like the figure was holding a small lighter in the confines of their sleeves.
Suddenly the figure wasn't mirroring Meg anymore, she just held still, staring.
Meg finally got the courage to try and speak.
"Who are you?" She uttered cautiously, now having backed up further knowing she wouldn't be copied.
Speaking in the trials was for the most part uncommon. The survivors were too afraid to attract any attention from the killer, they could easily gesture to what they needed done to their teammates, and no killer had ever spoken to them. The most any would do was laugh at their suffering.
The girl didn't respond, standing there, tense as ever. Until finally she moved. Her arm came up slowly, her hand slipping out of the long sleeve to reveal her fingers which uncurled outwards, asking to be grasped.
The entire hand was covered in intense burns, third or fourth degree. A disgusting mess of pink, red, white, and little tiny bits of black into one charred hand. The glow she'd seen in the sleeve earlier was gone, but the hand did seem to have a reddish glow to it, one that terrified Meg.
It didn't look like any stereotypical burned skin. It wasn't like the Trapper's left hand that he used to hold his traps, and it didn't look like the burned skin of Darth Vader either. It was covered mostly in pale pink and white that was splashed with red where there was less skin.
Now Meg was curious about killers and wanted to know about this newest one, but Pinhead had only arrived what felt like days ago. This had never happened before, but she was not stupid, even if a killer had never offered a survivor their hand before like this, it didn't mean that Meg didn't realize it was asking to die.
Meg stepped back, obvious in her refusal of whatever offer the girl had.
Then the whispers from the fog kicked up again, at first, unintelligible and ashy. Then clearer until a single phrase could be heard over and over again.
"You cannot escape your fate"
Then all at once four generators sounded off, the exit gates powered, opened, and the trials faded to black as it ended.
Meg was returned to the campfire where all the others were anxiously waiting.
Survivors usually just woke up splayed on the ground not too far from the survivors. So there was definite alarm when Meg was flung out of the air, clipped a tree branch, and then landed within a foot of the campfire, feeling the intense heat that wasn't usually there and nearly getting burned.
Her friends crowded around her, Claudette immediately checking her for any wounds. Eventually calming down when there was no blood or broken bones, just the usual bruises and scratches.
"Meg what happened! Where were you?" Nea said as she grabbed Meg's shoulders, lightly pulling her away from the campfire.
"You just got pulled into a trial all by yourself without anyone else and-" The Swede kept going before being cut off.
"Relax!" Meg said loudly over the noise, holding her hands up and waiting until everyone stilled. made it clear she was done talking before standing up.
"Yes, I got pulled into a trial and I'll tell you all about it, but give me a second to breathe, the adrenaline hasn't even worn off yet." Meg said, feeling a little dizzy.
The survivors murmured, backing up a couple of steps, Meg's friends remaining close to her almost like a ring of body guards.
"Ok, so yes, I got pulled into a trial, at first I didn't know I was alone so I fixed a generator and started looking around for anybody else around. I circled the map at least four times before I heard something behind me." Meg said.
"What was it!?" Some called from the group of survivors, it sounded like Nancy.
Meg couldn't help but smile at her eagerness.
"I'm getting there, I couldn't see their face, they had a mask on, it looked like the Trapper's, but I couldn't see their face through it. They had flaming eyes, it was a girl. Her clothes were covered in blood and ash, and they were almost...glowing." Meg said, sounding a little unsure at the end.
She was blocked from continuing when Felix's voice rang out from across the group. "You're telling me there's a new killer already! That pin headed freak only showed up a week or two ago!" He shouted.
Mummers of equal agreement or outrage could be heard, even among her friends as they whispered to each other and Meg herself as privately as possible. Claudette at the head of it, her other friends letting her take the lead.
"Do you think it's a new killer Meg? What did she do anyway?" The botanist asked.
The strange girl's behavior still eluded Meg, the mystery girl was almost like a mocking bird, copying Meg's movement while remaining as skittish and jumpy as a cat, tensed up ready to sprint away.
"She just stood there a few feet away from me, she was staring at me almost...almost like the shape. But she started copying me-"
"What the bloody 'el do you mean she started copying you" David's British accent rang out seemingly louder than he intended. Meg glared at David, and he gave an apologetic look in return when he realized literally everyone else was looking at them.
"I started to run away from her, but I noticed she wasn't following me, whenever I took a step forward so did she, perfectly synchronized like I was looking at myself from the outside. I tried a few more things and she copied them all. But right before it ended I saw a fog appear in the trees, I think it was the Entity. The girl looked like she wanted to run for her life, but she held her hand out towards me." Meg said, pausing to take a deep breath, and to let the others ask questions.
Bill spoke up, monotone, but Meg could see he was slightly leaning, ever so slightly. "What did she say." He said gruffly. He sounded hoarse, it was a miracle he hadn't gotten lung cancer, even with the Entity's apparent healing powers.
"She didn't say anything, but I heard whispers from the fog when I refused to take her hand, I couldn't really tell what they were saying, it didn't even sound like a human language. But I was able to make out one thing." Meg said, and everyone leaned in ever so slightly.
"It said 'You cannot escape your fate'. Then I heard all the generators and gates turn on at once and the trial ended." Meg concluded.
The campfire was silent, everyone pondering over what they heard, and Meg could only agonize in her mind at what they all thought and what they'd do.