Tired blue eyes opened, dark bags on the lower eyelids betrayed just how exhausted their owner was.
Meg Thomas was one of the original four survivors. She'd been trapped in the hell of The Entity for years, or at least it felt like years. An accurate concept of time was lost upon her and everyone else. None of them had sleep cycles with the trials running around the clock, there was no consistent night and day, and they didn't age at all. They were simply static.
However, Meg still had her memory. She could remember important moments and details of her life before she was enslaved. She could also remember the trials she'd been in before, particularly the gruesome and painful ones. Though, not even her memory was completely safe. It was often hazy, or as if there was something important she just couldn't seem to remember.
But in the current moment it didn't matter. Meg was on the Macmillan Estate. It was one of her more favored places to have a trial, though that wasn't saying much. The woodsy atmosphere reminded her of home, and it was beautiful in a dark and mysterious way.
But when Meg noticed a trap in between two brick walls off to the side, she deflated. This was also one of the worst maps to be paired up against The Trapper. Due to the natural darkness, tall grass, thick bushes, and trees that blotted out the moonlight, his traps were incredibly difficult to spot here.
It would be even worse if he covered them in tar. Should he do that and place them in the shade, they'd be near invisible. Meg wouldn't stand a chance. She was a sprinter best suited for outrunning killers who's only option was to attempt to outrun or outsmart her, both of which she made difficult.
But the Trapper? He was a tactical hunter who could consistently match her intelligence and speed in a chase while also forcing her to split her focus on where he was and where she was placing her feet. It was a nightmare for her.
But Meg didn't have any plans of dueling him today, maybe never again actually. She'd had enough and was ready to clock out.
Dwight, Bill, and Laurie were her teammates for this match. Meg didn't know where any of them were, probably scattered around the map. All things considered, they were a powerful team. They'd all been there a while and were all experienced, but they were all equally tired.
Well, her and Dwight were probably a bit more tired than Bill and Laurie.
The most recent survivor to arrive was Zarina, along with The Deathslinger. Meg particularly hated the engineer. He'd caught her off guard with his unique gun and caught her relatively easily the first time she'd faced him. However, it was the fact that he'd laughed and been visibly smug about it that had infuriated her so much.
Meg had actually put all her effort into that trial, something she hadn't done in quite a long time. Deathslinger had caught her once but she had humiliated him the rest of the match, even stopping to teabag him in the exit gate and dodge his last desperate shot before leaving.
Meg may have been miserable and hopeless, but she would always be the most skilled survivor and she wouldn't let any newbie killer think they could best her.
The Trapper was not a newbie killer. He was deadly, a threat, her most challenging adversary. And right now, Meg was just too drained.
Meg turned around from where she'd woken up and walked over to the corner of the map. She was on the shelter woods, the largest of the Macmillan maps. She made sure to put shack and several trees in between her and the rest of the map so she wouldn't be spotted.
Once she reached the corner she sat down and rested her back against the invincible brick wall. Meg didn't give much thought to how quiet it was, how she hadn't even seen the Trapper at all through the trees, or how not a single generator was completed. Meg hadn't even sensed one of her friends being hit yet.
It was strange. Had The Trapper decided he didn't want to play The Entity's game either? Was he just as fed up and tired as she was? Or was he simply setting up every trap he had around one condensed area? It was a relatively common tactic for him. He'd turn a small area around a handful of gens into a minefield and force them to come to him if they wanted to get the gates powered.
Meg didn't care. She wasn't doing any gens, she wasn't gonna be chased, heck, she didn't even feel like standing up. She was gonna sit there until either the gates got powered or until The Trapper came and found her.
Minutes went by, crows began to circle around Meg's head. She ignored them. Their cawing was obnoxious but she had learned to tune it out. The only real concern was them giving her away to the Trapper. However, he still hadn't come. Three gens had been finished and all three of her friends had been hooked once, Bill twice.
She did feel guilt and concern for them. She was being pretty useless after all, but at the same time, she knew that they'd just wake up at the campfire good as new if they did die.
Just to be slaughtered again.
The survivor's existence was miserable. They were unwilling cattle forced to fight for their lives over and over again. It was draining, miserable, and hopeless.
Meg had used to feel hope in the previous trials, that maybe if she performed well enough or escaped enough times she'd finally wake up back home with her mom. When she realized she just kept waking back up at the campfire, she'd been incredibly discouraged.
A pang of sadness swept through Meg's chest. She missed her mom, missed her loving hugs, encouraging pep talks, her determined attitude, everything about her.
A few tears welled within Meg's eyes. She wanted to go home. How long had it been? How long had she been trapped here? Years? Decades?
The last thought scared Meg more than she thought possible.
Meg leaned her head back until it was also against the bricks, her knees pulled close to her chest and her arms around them. Her face had dirt on it. The fake earth was all over her cheeks, her arms, her clothes. She was constantly dirty, but also with sweat and blood...so much blood. It felt like her clothes were permanently stained red and brown on some spots.
Sometimes it even felt like it had soaked through and stained her skin.
Meg brought her arms up and looked at them, seeing the dirt all over. There wasn't any blood on them yet, but she could see it on her red vest and jeans. Meg started to lightly scratch at her forearms, trying to scrape the dirt off of her. It wasn't real dirt, just whatever the heck this stupid Entity was made of.
She wanted it off of her, she wanted to feel clean for once, she wanted the Entity to leave her alone. Meg scratched harder, her skin turning pink and then red the more she scratched. The dirt just wouldn't come off. More tears began to leak from her eyes, some level of panic welling up within her. Why wouldn't it come off!?
She knew why. It was The Entity. It had stained her clothes and her skin, it had stained her. It had dug its greedy and corrosive claws into her and now it was inside of her, unable to be removed and refusing to leave.
Every time she was stabbed, whether it was her sides when sacrificed, her lungs when her arms could finally hold back its claws no longer, or her stomach and gut when it tossed her around like a rag doll and lifted her into the sky, she was stained further.
Because that's all she was. She was a toy rag doll for it to pierce over and over again, both on hook or for it to crush her skeleton like a toddler playing with styrofoam whenever the endgame collapse got her. She was just a worthless plaything for it, a life with no value that would be drained and tossed aside like she was rotten fruit.
It was hard for Meg to articulate just how dejecting those thoughts were. She'd seen the way her friends would move on hook when stabbed. As soon as they were pierced they died. But something about the way their head went limp, only to buck upwards and sag down again as they were pierced through the back and lifted up was just...wrong.
It didn't help that it was always the exact same disturbing movement when someone died.
There was no other way to describe it. They were people. They were living, breathing, sentient, and and self aware beings with higher consciousness. They could do incredible things in both the realm of the mind and of muscle. They had all of human history as testament.
So to see human life treated so callously, like they weren't even sovereign beings, just mindless cattle too insignificant to matter was demoralizing beyond anything else Meg could imagine.
Her life had meaning...didn't it?
She thought it did. But The Entity clearly didn't. It was eating her soul agonizingly slowly for its own survival and amusement. In the eyes of the Entity, her life was nothing, she was just an insect, food for this monstrosity, just another wriggling human to be eaten and have the remains tossed away like a sack of rotten meat.
The tears streamed over her cheeks, over dirt, over skin, and onto her blood stained vest. Meg's lips pulled back in a grimace, her teeth showing as she forced her jaw to remain shut. All she wanted to do right in that moment was wail. She wanted to cry and sob and scream her heart out as loudly as possible.
Meg's hands came up and gripped her hair tightly, forearms over her ears. Both of her hands tightened onto the center braid down the back of her head and pulled. Her scalp stung like fire but she didn't care. Why should she care? Her life meant nothing anymore, and so any pain she felt was irrelevant.
Her body would just be brutalized, crushed, shredded, and cleaved until she just didn't come back anymore, until The Entity decided it couldn't squeeze anymore juice out of her and threw her lifeless body away to rot.
But she didn't want to be worthless!
Meg's hands slipped off of her hair from sweat. The braid came undone, looking like a complete mess with her two remaining ones. Meg yanked on those two. One gave way easily enough, the hair frizzy and unkept, looking disgusting.
The other braid didn't want to give. So Meg put both hands on it and pulled, forcing her neck to stay straight so she didn't pull her head all the way to the side.
When it finally came free Meg shrieked in pain. It had hurt a lot, several strands of hair even came out of her scalp and fell to the grass or stayed in her hands.
Meg looked at the tree line. She hadn't meant to shriek, but it had happened and it was loud. There was no way The Trapper didn't know where she was now.
Sure enough, movement appeared in Meg's peripheral vision. She turned her head to look over at the LT loop that the figure was in. She couldn't confirm whether it was Trapper or one of her friends.
Seconds passed, her heart rate picking up ever so slightly. Meg now knew who it was, but she didn't move.
Then The Trapper came around the corner of the map, moving in her direction. Meg tensed up and grimaced again. She didn't want to get cut down and hooked. She began to tremble.
The Trapper found her quickly, stepping around the trees and advancing on her. But then he paused, staring down at her.
Meg had lowered her head into her arms, still shaking and crying, but she looked up when she didn't get immediately gored by his cleaver. Her eyes were probably red and bloodshot, her face covered in dirt, tears, maybe even snot. She must have looked repulsive.
The Trapper was not in his usual overalls and wooden mask. He was wearing brown boots with black pants and a white tank top. A long chain was around his pants and tank top, acting as a belt, small but thick utility hooks hung around his waist. The pieces of metal in his arm were different too, looking less like hooks broken off in his arm and just thin pieces of iron he'd been stabbed with or wide thin ones lodged in his bicep.
To complete it, he had leather straps around his back that held the giant empty oxygen tank on his back. The tank had two tubes that connected to the giant gas mask on his face, his head was covered by a mining helmet.
The Trapper stared at her for several more seconds, tilting his head. Something about the action was familiar to Meg, in fact, this situation was just familiar in general. But Meg couldn't remember ever doing this before.
Trapper then moved one foot, slowly taking a step forward to test her. When Meg didn't react he took another slow step, then another, and then another until he was towering over her.
Meg craned her neck painfully to look at him, staring into the large glass eye holes of his mask. She didn't know what she expected from him. There was still a possibility he'd just slash her across the chest and throw her on a hook, but what he was doing was unheard of.
The Trapper flexed his arms and legs as he bent down, suddenly coming much closer to head level with her. He was still much higher above her but now Meg wasn't in pain looking at him.
Trapper put his weapon, a piece of old mining equipment with a blade attached, in the grass.
A large, gloved hand reached out for her face. Meg flinched and tensed up, afraid he was going to strangle her, only to feel a gentle, if not dirty touch. His fingers grasped her chin and jaw and gently forced her to look him in the eyes again.
Something about the tenderness he held in his grip struck her heart. How long had it been since someone had touched her that gently? Or with that much care?
Suddenly Trapper pulled his hand back and took the glove off, revealing is hand that was somewhat cleaner than his arms. With that uncovered hand, he reached out and rested it on her cheek, some of her hair covering the ends of his fingers that rested around her ear.
More tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn't know why exactly she was so emotional about what he was doing. It was The Trapper for crying out loud! He should not be a source of comfort. But the way he held her, looked at her, almost as if he understood, or cared, made her come undone.
Meg began to sob, her eyes puffy and red, her hair a ratty, dirty mess, skin stained and muddy, and her soul feeling like it was in a million pieces scattered over a giant room.
The Trapper shifted, no longer resting on the balls of his feet, and now sitting on his backside. He let his legs unfold as his arms reached out for her. His massive fingers gripped onto her sides as he lifted her up and pulled her into his lap. Meg gasped lightly at the action, sounding more like she was gasping for air rather than gasping in surprise. Though, maybe it was both since she was desperately sucking down as much air as possible.
Her face was now incredibly close to The Trapper's. She was getting a close up and personal look at how marred the skin on his neck was and the disturbing metal in his arm.
Meg didn't care, in that moment, he wasn't a monster to her, not anymore. He was a comforting friend for now. But she didn't like the mask, so with a rash impulsiveness she gripped his mask and yanked it off quickly before he could respond.
The Trapper was surprisingly handsome. Meg actually thought he was incredibly good looking now that she could fully see him. His green eyes were especially entrancing, but she didn't focus too hard on it. She just wanted for him to feel more human and taking off his mask had done just the trick.
Trapper's eyes were wide, shock at the removal of his mask, but with how Meg was still ugly crying in his lap, he ignored it. Instead he wrapped his arms around her waist and back and pulled her in. She was resting on his lap, but he was still far bigger than her, meaning that their heads were perfectly level.
Meg's chin came to rest on his left shoulder as she lifted the helmet above and behind his head, simultaneously wrapping her arms around his neck. Meg let the mask and helmet hang next to his oxygen tank.
Meg's tears soaked into the Trapper's shoulder. For a moment, Meg tried to have some decency and pull her head back so she didn't get him wet. But when his arms held her tight and he even gently nudged her head back, she abandoned her composure.
Meg wailed into his shoulder, letting his body muffle her heartbroken cries. Her arms squeezed his neck as tightly as possible, fingers curling into his skin with every ounce of force she could muster. All her pain, how much she missed her mom, how much she hated her life, the pain she felt watching her friends die, and the worthlessness The Entity made her feel came pouring out.
The Trapper squeezed her comfortingly as she broke down, rubbing her back and even bringing one hand up to run through her hair, straightening it out and fixing the tangles.
Eventually as time slowly creeped by, Meg began to calm down. Finally getting to cry and wail her heart out combined with The Trapper's soothing ministrations had her slowly relaxing.
Meg sagged into The Trapper's body, her head limply on his shoulder and her arms now loosely around his neck. The Trapper didn't let up on the gentle pressure of his hug, nor did he stop running his fingers through her hair, straightening it all out until it looked dirty, but put together.
Meg was still breathing heavy, coughing occasionally as she let The Trapper hold her. When she finally had the strength to sit up she moved her arms to gently and tenderly hold The Trapper back, pushing her cheek against part of his and the rest of his head in appreciation. The Trapper moved his head to nuzzle her back.
The Trapper shifted until his oxygen tank was against the wall instead of the rest of the map like it was previously. Then he grabbed her by the waist and moved her until she was sitting sideways in his lap, then again until her back was against his chest. Meg went boneless, letting all her weight sag into him. He wrapped his arms around her sides and stomach, holding her to him almost protectively.
Meg closed her eyes and relaxed, far too trusting of someone who'd once murdered her, but uncaring about the past in that moment. She could feel herself slowly melt into a puddle of bliss, her mind finally distracted from the self deprecating reality of her enslavement. For just these moments, The Entity didn't matter. The only things that did were her and The Trapper's relaxation and peace.
Meg felt The Trapper rest his chin on the top of her head. The redhead smiled lightly, laughing quietly to herself even though there wasn't anything to laugh about. Maybe she was just delirious. No, she was definitely delirious from stress and her sanity being pushed to the brink.
However, The Trapper had saved her. One of the last people she'd expect to come to her aid had saved her.
Meg lifted one of her hands to rest over his, her fingers gently stroking his knuckles. The Trapper responded, slowly twisting his wrist until he held her hand in his own. Meg let her hand rest there, her knuckles now in his palm, her fingers limply curled towards the sky as his gently did the same around her hand.
Meg lifted her head a little, her eyes were tired, stinging from being open, so they were half closed. She could feel herself falling asleep, but she wanted to see the sight of her hand in his. His hand was so much bigger than hers. But it was comforting, reassuring, and protective.
The Trapper's other hand, his left one, came up and gently rested on her right cheek, applying light pressure, urging her to rest her head again. Meg let him place her head back on his sternum and under his chin, sighing in contentment and closing her eyes.
'I must have been wrong.' Meg thought. The Entity had lied to her. Sure it may have her trapped here, but she still had the freedom to break the demon's status quo. Maybe the Entity saw her as nothing more than a pile of flesh to mutilate, but she was still a sovereign human who was her own individual.
The Entity could shove it with what it thought. It was not more valuable than her.
And yes, maybe what it did to her and her friends destroyed their dignity, but it couldn't right now, not when she and The Trapper chose to rise up and tell it no.
Meg's lips quirked. 'Rise up.' She thought in her head with a giggle. It was ironic since her and The Trapper's act of defiance had been to sit down.
Suddenly she felt The Trapper shift, pulling her in closer, squeezing her just a little bit tighter. Meg loved it, the strength and pressure was just right, perfect to make her feel safe and at home.
"My counterpart." The Trapper said. Meg's eyes flew open in shock. Killers didn't talk, couldn't talk, shouldn't talk.
However, a sudden calm washed over her when his hand brushed her cheek again. She was too comfortable and cocooned in his warmth to move, too exhausted to question it all. She wanted to know, but her brain just couldn't keep up. So when his hands kept caressing her soothingly, her eyes fluttered closed again.
The only question Meg had the capacity to ask herself was if he was saying that she was his survivor, and he, her killer? Were they each other's counterpart like Nea and The Nurse? Or David and The Huntress?
"My survivor." She heard the Trapper utter possessively. She understood now, they are each other's counterparts. He was her killer, and she was his survivor, complimentary opposites, yet so similar.
Eventually Meg slipped into his embrace so deeply that she fell asleep, gripped by pleasant unconscious. She didn't want to wake up, she wanted to rest, to feel human again. It had been too long since she'd last slept.
The Trapper seemed to realize as well. Once she was asleep he put his mask and gloves back on, then clipped his cleaver to the back of his belt.
Evan grabbed Meg and lifted her up bridal style, one hand under her back and one under her knees, while also making sure her head was against his collar bone. He would let her friends go. He knew they were close to the speedy girl in his arms, so they would live.
Evan would feel amiss to let her go, but he couldn't exactly continue the trial while carrying her now could he? So he would settle for letting them go as long as he got to hold the girl in his arms. The little rabbit girl.
Evan tilted his head to himself. Little rabbit girl? The animal was appropriate to describe her, quick, fast on her feet, but still rather stealthy and small. However, little rabbit girl, didn't quite fit right. He needed something a little shorter.
"Little Rabbit." He said aloud, looking down at the sleeping red head. He'd always been captivated by her dark red hair. He thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, something no other woman could hope to compete with.
"My little rabbit." He repeated, staking his claim to her. No one was there to see it or acknowledge it but he didn't care. She was his now, plain and simple, she was his survivor and no one else's.
The trial flew by after that. Without the Trapper to impede, the other three survivors completed the last two gens like clockwork and eventually got the gates powered.
However, the end result was rather interesting. With the end of the trail upon them and Meg still missing in action, the survivors had come to look for her. Evan had mostly stayed away from them, simply strolling in the areas they had previously finished generators in and taking in Meg's beauty whenever the generator's flood lights shone down on her.
Now though, the survivors actively sought him out. They must have seen her unconscious form in his arms whenever they caught a glimpse of him.
Unsurprisingly, Bill was the one to approach him head on. The survivor had boldly ran into the open not too far ahead of Evan and stared him down, his eyes occasionally flicking to Meg.
Evan sensed a particular type of protectiveness from the old man. Evan and the old man shared a similar high opinion of Meg it seemed, though different in nature. However, Evan did not care. Like he had stated, Meg, though he was yet to learn her name, was his.
"She is mine." He said, letting the material of his mask warp his voice to sound even more menacing. The old man's eyes went wide in shock similar to how his little rabbit's had. A nearby gasp could be heard from behind Evan, and the six foot nine giant turned to see the nervous one in a tie duck behind a rock.
Evan checked his last open side to see the blonde girl with blue eyes staring him down with a glare. The three had surrounded him, though it would do nothing for him.
"Give her back." The blonde said. She must have recovered from the shock of talking quite quickly.
Evan rolled his eyes. They were brave, he'd give them that. Though maybe they were just stupid to think they could order him to give up someone so precious to him. Yes he may not have known the little red head very well, at least who she was as a person, but he did know her through the trials, and the touching of souls they had many minutes ago. He found himself far too attached to her to part with her just yet.
"No." He said. "She stays with me."
Meg was not going to wake up any time soon. He'd seen how exhausted she'd been, she'd looked half dead and ready to pass out at any second. He could care and comfort her best.
"She'll die if you don't!" Laurie said angrily, growing impatient. Evan stared her down. She was correct, though he was loathe to admit it. If they opened the gates and left them Meg would die in minutes.
He didn't want the time she spent in his arms to end. He wanted her to stay with him forever, but as long as he could have a say in it, the Entity would not torment her any further under his watch.
"You are lucky your argument was logical enough." He said, frustration oozing from his voice. He began to advance upon the old man rapidly, startling him into backing up instinctively before he stopped.
The old man set his face again and stared up at Evan. Then he held his arms out for Meg expectantly, looking back and forth between The Trapper and Meg.
Evan huffed and shook his head. "No." He ground out, almost growling. "Not yet." He said, walking around Bill and shoulder checking him. Bill stumbled a bit, but then ran to keep up, Laurie and Dwight close behind.
Once at the gate, Evan stood there waiting for the three. Once they were all there, he very reluctantly handed Meg over to the old man. The old man held her in a similar pose to how Evan had held her, though he was obviously not nearly as strong.
Evan watched as the old man made it out with his little rabbit, the only thing in his heart and mind being the desire to see her again.
Unfortunately it would be a long time before anyone remembered that trial, as all those who witnessed it forgot. The Entity didn't want it's toys becoming so self aware. Or more accurately, they weren't ready for the doctors to pull them out of the simulation just yet.