Dwight's father could've been born from the pages of some shitty sitcom. If anything, those screenwriters had to be taking inspiration from men like him. He was a towering tree. Deep rooted, tough as bark. He only bared sweet fruit sometimes, given all the conditions were perfectly met. There was only one thing that was consistent every single day: He cast a shadow over his family. It didn't even feel like he meant it half the time. Dwight, having found wisdom at a young age, knew that it was just a trait passed down from the men that came before his father. A long line of traditional family leaders that all had the same suffocating cynicism and stone cold hearts. Truly, Dwight didn't know how he turned out so different, because he too was raised the same way.

He wasn't malleable enough- Or, perhaps, he was too malleable. The relentless teasing, the scolding and the belittling didn't harden him. It made Dwight despise himself. He felt small, weak and worthless. Maybe there's a sort of crossroad that children get to when they have father's like him. You either develop an ego in order to surpass all the bullshit you go through, or you end up like Dwight. Sad and confused, pondering your self worth day in and day out.

After years upon years of pent up anxieties and insecurities spawned from the man who was supposed to uplift him, Dwight had enough. He left his manager position at PizzaWhat and dumped every penny of his savings into his checking account. He was ready to flee the only life he'd ever known. All Dwight did was leave a note for his mom. A Post-It that was smacked onto the kitchen island, which read: I'm moving out. I took everything I need. Do whatever you want with my room. I love you.

He packed a couple bags and suitcases into his car and started driving with not a single clue as to where he would end up. Before he knew it, he was driving through the midwest, wondering when he would finally get the itch to stop. The flat plains passed him by. The sky above him looked so wide and endless. With the window down, he listened to his music with the unfamiliar dry heat tickling his skin. True freedom passed him by so quickly, but he would never forget that feeling of finally being on his own on the road. It took him around a week to reach California. He had taken his time, enjoying the simplicities of the motels and crappy food along the journey. But it had to come to an end. And well, his money was getting low. He knew the state he was entering was more costly than the one in which he came. So he did his research and found a bottom of the barrel apartment in the great big City of Angels.

His bachelor's pad was of the lowest quality. The imposing landlord could make Dwight shiver with a simple stare. But most of his neighbors were alright, which he was thankful for, as he had become painfully used to his peers offering no such kindness.

He bounced around jobs for a while. Delivery boy, party entertainer, bartender, mechanic (He honestly had no fucking clue how he landed that one), grocery store clerk and last but not least, Story-Hook Supervisor at Peak 22. If there were to be any true anomaly on his resume, it would be his time spent at that great big scam of a company. He couldn't even put into words the purpose or goals of the company. It was just a giant fantastical scheme used to stroke the ego of the CEO, a narcissist prick named Lazar.

To spare the details, the work environment was nothing short of toxic. They walked on eggshells, hid in bathrooms and constantly had high heart rates, just waiting for the daily incidents to roll in. What kept him in his cubicle was the paycheck. Dwight had never made so much money in his entire life. All he had to do was write a bunch of fake reviews a day, making the company sound legit and promising. He could kick his feet up and relax, with the occasional heart pounding Lazar freak out breaking his peace every now and then, however Dwight knew how to put his head down and work in rough conditions.

Still, there was something lurking beneath the surface with Dwight. It was pent up rage. He wasn't planning on enacting some sort of rampage meltdown, but what he was fed up with was watching a man cast a shadow over those around him. Not only had Dwight been forced to live through that exact scenario for twenty some years, he also had front row seats to it at Peak 22. It really started to weigh on him, especially when Rose, his most favorable colleague, was starting to feel the brunt of Lazar's sore ego.

Down the line, he attended one of the infamous 'roast' gatherings, which was a casual party attended by a bunch of ex-Peak 22 employees, who all came together in order to air their grievances and talk smack on their old boss. It was overall a good time, however the lighthearted atmosphere sat on the edge of harrowing sometimes, at least for Dwight. The stories they would confess about Lazar were of diabolical proportion. This man really was a real life villain. It wasn't hard for the hatred for Lazar to slither like venom all throughout Dwight's insides. He started to dwell on the cruelties of his boss at most hours of his days, even when he had off work.

There was no relief. The days got harder and harder. The final nail in the coffin was Rose getting fired following a blatant plot orchestrated by Lazar, one that sought to pin her for mistakes that she hadn't made, which then gave the big man an easy excuse to throw her to the curb. Dwight had watched her get escorted from the building, feeling the most pissed off he ever had in his entire life. The pit of fire in his belly was hungry for justice.

At yet another roast party, Dwight got to talking to a fellow named Max, who'd once worked the same position as Dwight before being fired for being none other than a 'weak male', according to Lazar. Then came the seeds of rebellion. Max joked about some revenge fantasy he had, one in which he wished he could drug Lazar's coffee with a laugh-inducing substance, subsequently making Lazar become a total fool in the middle of one of his meetings. For Dwight, the idea actually sounded reasonable, something that could probably bring balance to the tally board of Peak 22. So he inquired about the drug and got his hands on it.

His appetite for revenge was so strong that his judgment was heavily clouded. He didn't think about it possibly going wrong. He couldn't even fathom an outcome where he would be the one making the walk of shame. Oh Lord, was he entirely wrong.

He prepared the coffee, even with his colleagues standing there beside him and advising against it. His heart was set. His eyes were seeing red. There wasn't a single thing that was going to derail his freight train that was headed right for Lazar. He wanted to sit back with a shit eating grin and watch Lazar lose his mind at the head of that damned conference table. And honestly, he did. But that grin was swiped straight off of Dwight's face when there wasn't a hint of laughter coming from Lazar once the drug kicked in. Instead, he began crying out, sounding frightened by the mere presence of the employees sitting around the table.

That's when it happened.

Lazar lunged for one of the employees, catching the poor guy by the neck, which he began wringing out like his life depended on it. Everyone managed to tackle Lazar off the man before he could outright murder him. All Dwight could do was stand there and look upon the ginormous mess he made. Staring back at him was a room full of glares. When Lazar was escorted out, nothing left of him but the echoes of his cries from up the hallway, Dwight meekly approached the colleagues that remained in the room with him.

Very simply, he said," You'll never have to see my face again. Just please don't tell him or anyone that it was me. Please."

And that was it. Dwight left. He wallowed in his apartment for a week straight, praying to God that he wouldn't see the flash of red and blue lights across his windows. He had done a bad thing. He had fucked up beyond belief. Being on the other side of the incident offered him immense clarity. Sitting in his bed one night, he had an epiphany. He was no better than Lazar. Yeah, yeah- Dwight didn't have a laundry list of enemies that he once treated like slaves, nor a million horror stories following his name- Yet what he had done was something that could've been conjured from the demented mind of Lazar. He had committed a serious crime. It made him feel sick to his stomach. That night, he had cried himself to sleep.

The following morning he woke up with puffy lids and flushed cheeks. His weakened legs carried him to the fridge, where he grabbed a bag of frozen veggies and held them over his eyes to aid the swelling. He leaned against the fridge for a few minutes until his skin started to go numb from the cold, so he lowered the veggies and immediately dropped his gaze to his cellphone, which was sitting on the counter in front of him. He'd been avoiding it. He wasn't sure if there'd be a hundred angry texts lining his notification wall.

It felt only right to face it head on. He deserved the shame followed by their wrath. So he reached for the phone and tapped on the screen. To his surprise, there was only one notification there. And it wasn't from anyone he worked with. It was a missed call from his dad.

Dwight stared at it for what seemed like forever. Eventually, he found his thumb tapping on it, sending him straight to the dialing tone. His heart sank, he hadn't exactly anticipated that, but a part of him wanted to hear the comfort of a familiar voice, a voice from home. He brought the phone to his ear and waited, an anxious feeling rising in his chest. The ring cut out, a wave of white noise entering the line before his dad's gravelled voice spoke.

"Dwight?"

"Yeah dad, it's me."

"... How's it going buddy?"

"It's alright."

"You sound like you just woke up."

"Yeah, I did."

"It's two in the afternoon. Staying up all night on your games?"

"No dad, I'm in a different time zone. It's still morning here."

A short silence.

"Ain't that something. You took that beater car of yours all the way out West, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah I did."

"I bet that was a long trip."

"Yeah, it was."

"Well, whatcha up to today?"

Dwight's throat began to feel tight.

"Nothing much. Just uhm-..."

"... What's wrong buddy?... You crying?"

"I miss home, dad."

"... Yeah, I bet. You're real far away. That ain't no Marlborough out there. You ain't built for that kind of heat son."

"I'm finding out that I ain't built for much of anything."

"Now why're you saying that?"

"Bad day at work."

"That's how work is, son. It's a biblical miracle to have a good day."

"Yeah, well, this day was a biblical disaster."

"Did you get fired?"

"I left before it could happen."

"It takes a real man to know his limit. I'm proud of you. Ain't nothing fun about getting thrown out by a son of a bitch boss."

"Yeah…"

Another silence, longer that time.

"Did I lose you?"

"No dad, I'm still here."

"What now? You gonna get a new job?"

"Do you… Is my room still there?"

"Well yeah, buddy. We didn't just bulldoze it off the lot."

"Yeah, I know. I just mean… Well I guess I'm asking if mom turned it into her sewing room, like she always talked about."

"She only meant if there was an extra room in our house."

"I would consider my room an extra room."

"It ain't an extra room. It's your room son. It's still the way you left it."

"... Really?"

"Yeah buddy."

"... Then… I guess my next question is, would it be alright if I come home?"

"You don't gotta ask all these stupid questions. Of course you can come home."

Dwight closed his eyes. Same old dad.

"But is it going to be okay if I do."

"If it wasn't, your mom woulda had that damn sewing room set up two years ago."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"My lease is ending soon. Then I've got the drive back. I'll probably be home in September."

"Well alright then, mom and I will see you in September."

"Okay, sounds good."

This silence was the longest of them.

"... I love you, bud. I'm glad you're coming home."

Dwight couldn't handle it. He put his hand over his mouth to keep a sob suppressed, not wanting to make his dad feel awkward. He swallowed it down, finding the willpower to keep his voice even for the rest of the call.

"I love you too. I'm looking forward to it."

"Okay, buddy. See you soon."

"Yep."

"Alright, bye."

"Bye, dad."

As soon as the line hung up, Dwight clutched his phone to his chest and slid to the floor, crying happy tears at the thought of returning home.

His time spent in California wasn't bad. It taught him a lot. He learned how to live on his own. Two years was a long time to figure out how to be a full fledged independent adult. And now the chapter appeared to be coming to a close, a fiery catastrophe marking its end.

He hadn't spoken to his parents in all those days. He knew how they were. They were disconnected, non-confrontational. His dad probably urged his mom not to call Dwight. 'Just leave him alone, clearly that's what he wants.' Dwight could easily imagine it.

Something must've changed. Dwight didn't think in a million years that his dad would call to check in. Maybe the time away from his son changed him. Dwight felt a difference within himself too. The shift. Like he suddenly had a better understanding of his father. The man had no love language, but that didn't mean he had no love at all. He heard it over the phone. He heard the love that his dad had for him. And it put a smile on Dwight's face.

He sat on the kitchen floor for a while, trying to get his bearings together. The time came when he finally stood, feeling fresh, feeling ready for the day. He looked around his apartment, hands on his hips.

He sighed, thinking to himself, 'Well, guess it's time to get some boxes.'

With the fog seamlessly fading out of existence, Dwight had expected the typical mundane entrance into the trial, the quiet before the storm, if you will. It usually kicked off with an eerie silence in the air, some crows scattering off into the grim sky a distance away- And normally there was a funky odor that he'd never had the displeasure of smelling before. But all of that was flushed down the drain when he was startled by David grunting in pain just a couple feet from him.

"Aghh, gah, there's something in my fuckin' back," He growled.

"You alright?" Dwight called to him, quickly jogging over and stopping by the brute's side. As David twisted around in response to whatever pain he was in, the culprit of his agony was revealed in one gruesome shot. Lodged directly in the flesh of his back was a hatchet of daunting proportions. Dwight couldn't help but to pale, feeling his insides squirm at the sight of the wound.

"Hey man," He quivered, feeling tingly from the queasiness skittering in his stomach, "There's a whole ass hatchet in your back."

David grunted through a dry chuckle, "Feels 'bout right."

"We should take it out," Dwight advised, nervously adjusting his glasses. He didn't exactly want to be the one responsible for removing it, but he wasn't about to make David try to do it himself.

"Innit a bad idea?" The disgruntled man asked, peering at Dwight warily. Well that totally and unexpectedly turned the plan on its head.

"What do you mean? We can't just leave it in there."

"It ain't ever happen to me, but I seen a mate take a knife to the thigh a time or two. An' they ain't take it out. A whole bloody mess if they did."

Dwight stared at him incredulously. "So… You want to keep the giant hatchet in your back?"

David cocked his head, "I'm thinkin' it's a dead good way of keepin' me from bleedin' out. Who lobbed it at me? I couldn't see with all that fog."

"I don't know but there's more where that came from. Not to scare you, but you've found yourself in a fucked up place," Dwight told him with a thick layer of regret, not eager to shed light on the rules and details of the poor man's new life as prisoner. But David was just rolling with the punches, seeming not all that concerned or shocked by his terrorizing circumstance.

"I don't scare easy," Was all he said. Then he stood tall, wincing against the pain. As he did so, his eyes glanced ahead, taking in the new environment they had been transported to. "How'd we get back outside?"

Still not over the absurdness of David's final decision, it took Dwight a few blinks of disbelief before he answered. "It's the fog. Anytime you see it, expect to end up somewhere new or back at the campfire."

Continuing to defy all odds, David began to laugh, which was infiltrated by a couple wheezes. "I can't believe I've gotta hatchet in me back," He chuckled, really sending Dwight through a loop. It had to be some sort of coping mechanism. There was no way this guy was actually this level of insane.

"Are you positive you want to keep it there? I can try to-" Dwight was cut short by David's dismissive hand waving away all that talk and worry.

"It's no mither," He sighed, glancing at Dwight once more, "So how we gettin' back?"

"There is no getting back right this second. We are stuck here until we power up five generators hidden around this place. They turn on two exit gates on the outer edges. The goal now is to make it out alive." In informing David of the general guidelines of their predicament, it reminded Dwight that standing around talking wasn't getting them out of there any sooner.

"C'mon, let's get moving."

Like a total champ, David followed closely behind with hardly any indication that he was suffering from the hatchet married to his butchered flesh. With only a few winces and muttered curses, he continued to get more and more information out of Dwight in the minute or so it took to locate a generator. Dwight had done his best to lay it on thick, to really give David the full scope of what was going on since it was clear the guy could digest the hard hitting truths. To be honest, Dwight had initially thought that David was some sort of masochist who would really thrive there, but it was made apparent that he did indeed have some mushiness in his heart.

While repairing the generator together, David suddenly said, "I'm not really graspin' that I could be here forever."

It took Dwight a moment to respond, but he eventually gulped down his own anxieties over the ever-looming concept and muttered, "Yeah, we all are trying to… Accept that possibility."

"Doesn't feel real…" David sighed before tossing some colorful language at the wiring he'd just accidently zapped himself with. Small outburst concluded, he followed up his previous statement with, "You've got anyone waitin' on you?"

"Like at home?"

"Yeh."

"My parents, that's about it. But I have someone in here. Meg. She kinda feels like all that there really is for me," He spoke candidly about his feelings for her, not exactly anticipating David to indulge in the sappy parts of the confession. But he was full of surprises.

"In' that sweet," He said quietly, "At least your someone is with you."

"Doesn't feel too good when I could lose her at any moment."

"Better than bein' stuck, while they're out there finishin' the dream with someone else."

Dwight glanced at him curiously. "You sound worried over your 'someone'."

David nodded in a mixture of solemnity and regret, "Been worried 'bout my 'someone' since we were kickin' rocks 'round the yard as young lads."

The latter half of the statement didn't make an impression on Dwight until he saw David stiffly peer up at him, looking as if he'd said something he hadn't meant to. That was when Dwight realized he used the word 'lads', insinuating… Well, Dwight had only encouragement and support for love in all its variations. He didn't mind, and wanted to make a point to show David that it was okay.

"Don't worry," Dwight said with an airy laugh, "I'm not a douchebag. So what's going on?" The nonchalance of Dwight's words seemed to only rebound off the steel wall of David's sudden shift in demeanor.

"It's nothin' serious," He responded in the way one would when making an excuse. Dwight shook his head in disappointment, not toward David but more so at the fact that the world hadn't made him feel comfortable with himself. But he didn't want to pry. Things were already tense enough.

So Dwight just politely said, "Alright."

Moments later, it seemed like the exchange was weighing on David and he was on the brink of going back to the subject, however a very soft, feminine humming fell on their ears. With the generator being about half way, it was tough getting an idea as to the source's whereabouts considering the pistons were generating their own obnoxious beat. All that could be anxiously concluded after another few seconds was that it was certainly getting closer to them.

Dwight's hands snaked out from the generator, his wide eyes snapping to David, who was already cautiously surveying the area around them.

"We should hide," Dwight whispered to the other, who didn't react to his warning. The humming only grew louder, slipping around them with the same constricting hand as a siren's song. He could feel his chest growing tight as he glanced between David and the thick forest. They needed to go, but it was impossible to know which direction to flee. The tune weaved through the trees wickedly, nearing every passing second.

"David," He snapped a little louder, which finally got the man to retreat toward Dwight. Wordlessly, they both cowered away from the generator, knowing that if anything, the danger would be expecting its prey to be there. They each took a tree to hide behind, where they then patiently waited to see what beast was sent to maim them this time. Being about twenty feet away from those thumping pistons, David and Dwight each had a breath of relief that they were able to hide in time.

As the pattern goes, any good sense was replaced with gut wrenching fear, when finally their newest foe stalked toward the generator. Dwight's eyes flicked all over the beast with a grim curiosity. Its silhouette was feminine, as was already confirmed by the womanly humming. Except she was no possessor of a petite frame. Her broad shoulders rivaled even that of David's. The length of her arms were muscular and long, flexing against the broad axe carried within her hands. Her height was abnormally tall, made worse by the pale mask she wore on her face, which was the unassuming features of a hare. The mask's rabbit ears extended a little ways above her head, while being shortened around the mouth area, baring her singing lips. They curled with every breath she took in order to never break her humming tune.

They both watched in silent horror. If it had not been for her song, they would have absolutely no idea if she had been approaching. Her bare feet emitted no sounds as she carefully walked through the pliable earth. There was something tactful about her movements. Well practised, seasoned. She seemed disciplined in every action she committed to. Her inaudible steps carried her to the generator, where she fiercely kicked it twice, making it spark and begin to regress.

The jarring nature of the noise struck fear in the heart of Dwight, so he turned away and crammed his limbs inward, praying that she couldn't see him hiding behind the narrow tree. He didn't even look over to David, far too paralyzed by terror.

The notes of her humming were beginning to feel like a threat. This was capitalized on when she suddenly laughed. It echoed through the trees, breezing right by him like a taunting promise- Like she knew he was there, it was only a matter of time until she found him. The humming returned thereafter.

He didn't like not knowing what was going on. It killed Dwight, because he feared that he wouldn't hear her coming and that her humming would drown out the cues of her impending doom. He sucked in a short breath before narrowly peering around the edge of the bark, eyes hitting the clearing where the generator was. She was no longer there.

CRACK!

Right where his head had been placed before, if not for him looking back at the gen, her great axe impaled the bark with a ferocious strength. Dwight shot right out of his skin, shuddering and shaking as he weakly turned to see her right beside him, an animalistic growl floating from between her lips at the disappointment of missing her kill shot.

His face twisted in horror, a petrified cry climbing right out from his very soul. Just as she used her brutal strength to tear the axe from the tree, Dwight shot into a frantic dash. It was so hard to think straight when being operated by the demanding hand of fear. All he could fathom was running away and hardly anything else. Any plan in his mind was lost to his jumbled inner monologue, the voices in his head screaming for him to run.

He had no idea where David had gone. The world blurred around him as soon as he fled the tree, so who knew where the injured man had run off to. Dwight could only suspect that Daivd had escaped safely from the area, considering the chilling humming was following him. He had been branded with the target. The first blood of the trial.

The rays of golden light showed through the trees that he whizzed by. It was the ever present walls, these ones being very rustic. Logs stacked atop each other to create a maze of barriers, which had torches attached to them to give a soft haze to their blood curdling nightmare.

One cluster passed him by, with another one being up ahead. The light seemed to provide him with some sliver of clarity, his mind finally being able to pinpoint a goal, which was to locate a pallet within those walls. But as he was sprinting up to it, he heard the loud thumping of a nearly completed generator.

The damage had already been done. It was clear their newest monster was no idiot. She would catch wind of the generator in a matter of moments, so Dwight figured he should at least warn his companions of the threat lurking just behind them.

He raced into the arrangement like a pinball, bouncing off the walls as he tried to get himself to come to a halt. Once he caught his balance against one of the walls, he saw that Meg and Jake were standing in front of the generator. Both of their faces were concerned as they came to the realization that Dwight had lured the monster to them.

"We have to go-" Dwight began through labored panting. His words were quickly cut short when a hatchet whizzed right by his face and chopped into his hand, which had been braced against the wall, successfully pinning him there. It's not like he would've had time to yank his hand from the hatchet that had been deeply embedded with the wood, as not a second later another hatchet came flying in, colliding with his thigh. Dwight would have collapsed to the floor, but his weight dangled by his pinned hand, leaving him to just pitifully scream and cry while leaned against the wall, awaiting the worst.

He could hear Meg shouting in his direction, but between the humming and the fast pumping generator, it all just sounded like white noise to Dwight. He was in so much terrible pain that he surrendered to his predicament, figuring in the least he could just be the bait that gave time for Meg and Jake to get away.

As his eyes flashed upward, he watched Jake forcefully drag Meg away from the bloody scenario, where then they quickly disappeared out of sight. Dwight whimpered before warily looking off in the other direction.

There she was. The shadowed eye holes of her hare mask were suddenly illuminated as she stalked through the firelight. As soon as they glittered, he could see they were trained directly on him. There was something different about her movements as she conducted her slow approach. Her steps were purposeful, like she was giving herself time to really evaluate him in all of the pain he was experiencing. The only thing Dwight could do was stare back and offer her a damn good show, because he was in utter agony and it was unstoppable.

Once she finally was before him, towering over his slumped body, her humming drew quiet, no louder than a whisper. He was expecting the final blow, as that was typically how it all went down. But she continued to defy the understandings established through all their experiences with the killers. They were supposed to be ruthless animals that reacted based on natural instinct. Yet something about her seemed to consciously choose to hunt their blood.

She leaned in close. He could feel her breath tickle down the side of his face as he turned away, feeling all degrees of discomfort by the close proximity. Once her head was only centimeters away, she reached to her own face and lifted the mask the slightest bit.

And then, she took one long whiff of the skin by his neck.

Dwight shuddered with the chill that wracked him. As soon as she had conducted her business, she leaned back up and readjusted her mask. Just then, her humming stopped. He peered up with a face full of tears, not knowing what to expect anymore.

Before he knew it, she shot her hand down and yanked up on the hatchet lodged in his thigh. As soon as it divorced from his flesh, Dwight cried in pain. The last thing he saw was her raise the hatchet and swing, which landed as a devastating blow in his back. With it all being too much to bear, Dwight passed out right on the spot. Given that all of his dead weight was put onto his hand, the flesh of his palm wasn't strong enough to hold him and tore through completely, thus dropping Dwight to the grass in an unconscious heap.

An eerie laugh left her lips whilst she observed his pathetic body.

If it bleeds, she can hunt it.

If it fights, she will kill it.

And if it cries in terror, she will have fun toying with it.

There was something so bittersweet about a Huntress and her prey.