I almost pissed myself.
So I got to the top of the vent, right? Tell me why this vent has buzzsaws, hydraulic presses, and fucking heat lasers. You're telling me the HALLWAY had no traps while this random ass VENT has a whole Indiana Jones type gauntlet of shit that can kill me?
"Yo, so, are we like, super fucking positive this is the only way to get to them? Cuz shit's straight fucked in here." My voice echoes in the vent as my eyes lock on the grate behind all of the manifested audacity of the twins. Like, are we serious right now? It's actually comical how crazy this is!
"Super duper positive! It's the quickest and the most efficient! And remember, out of all of us, you're the one who handles traps the best. It's almost like you know they're there or something!" Chrissy chimes in through my earpiece.
"First of all, fuck you. Second of all, fuck you. And third and most importantly of all, fuck you!" My head starts to throb again as I shut my eyes. "But fine." Time to farm more deaths I guess.
The first thing in front of me are two buzzsaws rolling past each other and disappearing through slits on the side of the vents. Barely enough fucking time or room to get past them, but it looks at least a little but doable? Damn it all, this is gonna hurt.
I crawl up in front if the blades and squint as they continuously pass by each other. Using my legs to lunge myself forward, I'm able to get past them. My head gets past them at least.
Death 60.
See what I have to go through on a day-to-day basis? The only good thing about this shit being a day-to-day basis is that I learned a lot on how to counter stuff like this. Definitely not voluntarily, but I learned. I guess.
I pull back on one of my pistols and a bullet pops out of the chamber. It lands in my hand and I wait. This is basically around the same thing as waiting on what Lola ate in the ramen store a few days ago, but instead of waiting on a certain cue, I make one myself. Hell to the fuck no is it consistent, but it makes things a shit ton more quicker than just throwing myself at sawblades over and over again. Trust me, I love dying repeatedly but anything to save me more time is always worth it.
I wait for the blades to swing out one more time and I flick the bullet with my thumb. Luckily it lands on the other side, and right after I lunge forward again.
Death 61.
Instantly lobotomized. But that's fine though. Just gotta jump forward at the right time after the bullet and I'll be good...
...
Death 83.
Okay. So like. Maybe this wasn't that great of an idea as I thought. Listen! I swear it worked in the past! It's just... maybe the first time I've tried this on a trap like this.
I suck on my teeth and pinch the bridge of my nose. At least I'm not as pissed as I was earlier. Probably just cuz people piss me off more than shit like this. Barely a reason to get mad at something you can't kill after you get past it.
Fuck it. Let's keep g- "HOLY FUCK!"
I push myself back with my hands and fret as I scream, my voice echoing inside of the vent.
"Wulf! Is okay?" I hear the big man on my earpiece as my chest heaves, the faint sound of gunshots in the background. My throat swells, hurting due to how dry it was.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."
My eyes squint before they blink rapidly as I try to make sense of what's in front of me. I'm not asleep, am I? I sure as hell don't think so, but... how is she here?
Leaning forward towards the buzzsaw trap I was about to lunge into just a second ago was one of my outlines. 1.
I swallow the saliva that was built up in the back of my throat and continue to breath normally. Before I could get a chance to do anything, the outline leaps into the trap. My eyes widen as I witness her form dissolve the moment the buzzsaws pass through her. The hell was that?
My stare can't seem to remove itself from the buzzsaws going back and forth as I try to process what had just happened. Why? Just, why? Is this supposed to help me or something or just make me crazy watching myself die? I'm completely sane compared to these other freaks, so how about let's not do that?
Anyways, as weird as that was, I guess I just have to keep going. Okay... how about...
Death 84.
Nope. Honestly not sure what I expected to happen there.
"Fuckin' piece of shit..."
I mumble underneath my breath as I see my outline overlap my body. She suddenly jumps back behind me in the vent. Is she finally coming to her senses now, or..? Turning back, her eyes were widened the same way mine was in my past life. Really just rubbing it in now, huh? I continue to watch her for a bit before she lunges into the buzzsaws again just to die.
Again? What's the point of this? This has gotta be someway related to my immortality. Right? I just can't see how this would help me.
My fingers tap on the metal below me, another sort of habit I've developed. Actually... Tapping. Huh. These sort of ideas really just pop out of nowhere after I see myself subconsciously doing something.
I straighten my posture. Lock in.
One of the first things I was taught as a Specialist: signals. The classic triple tap before initiating one to be specific.
Might as well give it a go.
I tap my finger once. Twice. Thrice. Jump. My lower legs get cut off. I shriek and grab my gun to end my suffering.
Death 85.
I watch the hand of my outline carefully.
She taps her finger once.
She taps her finger a second time. I tap mine once.
She taps her finger a third time. I tap mine a second time.
She jumps and dies. I tap mine a third time. Jump. Only my feet get cut off. Once again, one in the chamber gets unloaded into my skull.
Death 86.
Again.
She taps her finger once.
She taps her finger a second time. I tap mine once.
She taps her finger a third time. I tap mine a second time.
She jumps and dies. I tap mine a third time. Jump.
My chest and forearms hit the other side. Along with the rest of my body. My tightly close eyes slowly open as I push myself up. I made it. Okay. Okay. Not too bad.
I exhale and smile a little. Hey, I get that I'm pretty pissy at myself and everything sometimes, but I gotta give myself credit where credits due! Now...
Looking up from the floor I stare down the rest of the vent. Now what? Ten or... no. twelve more to deal with? Not too bad.
I suck on my teeth. Ah, who am I kidding? I fucking hate my job.
...
139. I breath in an out through my nose rapidly, my mouth shut tightly. My face tenses up.
139. I ball up my hands into fists. My fingernails dig into my skin and make my palms bleed. I don't feel the cuts though. I'm too angry to feel pain.
"139." I mutter underneath my breath. My breath escapes my mouth in a long drawn out sigh.
"139." My eye twitches. "139."
"A hundred!" My voice peaks each time I speak while my right fist makes contact with the ventilation grid leading to outside.
"Thirty!" I scream at the top of my lungs once more as I punch the grid.
"Nine!" I bite my lip, the taste my blood landing on my tongue as I punch it once again.
139 tries. 139. Each time that stupid fucking number pops up into my head I bash my already bruised fist into the grid.
139. Bang.
139. Wham.
139! Crack.
I keep going until my fist starts to bleed. But I don't stop using it because it hurts. I stopped doing it because it wasn't making a damn dent in the grid. How else am I supposed to torture and kill those damn jackoffs if I can't get past this piece of metal?
The bottom of my foot continuously makes contact with the grid until I decide I've had fucking enough.
My body throws itself the grid. "139!" My blood boils and my volume skyrockets.
I crash through the grid and end up on the metal platform on the other side. My bloodied hands force myself up on my feet, my tunnel vision instantly locking down on the glass box Adam and Steve are in. We lock eyes and the instant we do I start running towards them.
For a short moment I can see my reflection on the glass. Eyes as red as the blood spattered all over my hands and face. My expression in a constant state of sheer grimace and hatred. I'll make sure it's the last face these fuckers will ever see.
I'll make sure all they're able to witness is the bottom of my shoe stomping them into the ground until they're unrecognizable as people.
I'll beat them so hard their consciousness won't be able to flash their lives before their eyes.
I'll tear open their necks until they're drowning in their own blood.
I'll fucking...
"I'LL FUCKING KILL BOTH OF YOU!" My screams echo over every gunshot and voice in the area.
Body slumped over, my legs start moving me as fast as they possibly can. The twins panic and press a couple of buttons on the interface they have inside their room, causing several sentry turrets connected to robotic arms to lower themselves from the ceilings and aim at me.
No. I'm not dying after all of that. My 222nd death is going to be the last one to occur in this fucking hell hole.
They all rain down a stream of bullets at me as I strafe to my left and right, jumping up to the side railing to my left to avoid the fire and land back on my original path.
A few bullets skim right past me, tearing through the sides of my pants and scratching my face. As I keep running, I see a long bone impale one of the turrets, followed by a loud sound and another getting shot. The turrets fizzle down one by one as they're destroyed by my teammates until I reach the very end of the balcony. I vault myself over the railing and push my body off it with my feet as Chrissy fires two shots.
My arms cover my face as I shut my eyes. I hear the glass crack twice before I come crashing through the window, the sound of it shattering filling my ears and pieces of glass brushing against my clothes. A sound and feeling so so familiar. My head flashes the glowing orange sunlight of that day until I open my eyes to see the reality in front of me.
Panting and heaving for air, I stand up inside the room Adam and Steve resided in. There they were. Right in front of me with their backs on the ground.
"Such bloodlust..." Adam's voice shakes as he looks up at me.
"It should be impossible to feel this much." Steve's monotone voice quivers.
Despite their allegedly quick reactions, they're unable to do anything at the moment but lay on the ground from pure pressure. Even though it's euphoric to see the people you want to kill groveling on the floor, the lives you give a chance to fight back feel the greatest to take.
"What the hell are you two doing sitting around for?" I breathe shakily as my voice rasps and my eyesight blurs around everything else around those two.
My hands reach for my pistols, one covered in blood and the other one soon to be. They spin around my fingers until I hold them to a stop with them in my fists in front of my face.
"Get your asses up, and let's run this fucking fade."