Chapter Text
Shedletsky had been in purgatory for a long time.
He wasn’t exactly counting, but if he had to guess, it had probably been years. Maybe longer. It was hard to tell when time looped back on itself like a broken clock, ticking forward just to snap back again. Days bled into rounds, and rounds bled into deaths, and deaths meant nothing when you would just wake up again in the same damn place.
The cabin is where they always returned, a miniature neighborhood deep within the confines of a thick forest. It was a warped in-between, with paths too dangerous to follow, an unmoving dark sky, and a shore with water that none of them had been brave enough to swim through. Within the main wooden cabin, the others were scattered near the fireplace, doing their usual post-round activities - chatting, making plans, increasing morale. Pretending like they weren’t stuck in this place.
Shedletsky was a god once. Nobody here knew that. Nobody except Builderman, and Builderman, bless him, was decent enough to not say a word. Maybe that’s why Shedletsky had lost the instinct to care over time.
He leans back against the couch he was sitting on. He was bored. Stupidly, horribly bored.
The rounds had a tendency to feel identical after a while. They’d be thrown into some random place, whether it was an abandoned mansion, hotel, city, or just some grasslands, and then one of the usual killers would show up. A whole round of cat and mouse would begin, and everyone would just have to survive long enough for the round to end. If you died, you’d feel it - every nerve igniting in pain - but after a few minutes of painstaking agony, you’d wake up back in the cabin, good as new. No scars, no evidence it had even happened.
The whole thing was starting to feel like a joke.
So when the next round began and Shedletsky found himself next to a dirt pillar with broken glass houses surrounding the clearing, he didn’t start running off and doing generators like the others. He lazily turned his head, scanning the environment.
Ah.
There, just barely visible in the distance through the dusty haze, was a familiar silhouette.
1x1x1x1. It had been a while since he was an active killer in a round, and yet, looking at him now, nothing had changed. That eerie, shifting green glow, the blackened bones just barely visible underneath translucent skin, the twin swords gleaming in his claws. A nightmare given form, and one Shedletsky was usually afraid of.
Today, he really wasn’t. In fact…
Shedletsky tilted his head, considering. Then, just for the hell of it, he started walking forwards, toward 1x1x1x1. Not running, not sneaking - just a casual, unhurried stroll, hands by his sides, one foot after the other.
1x1x1x1 stood completely still, his presence like a void in the thickened air. Then, as if sensing Shedletsky’s approach, he turned his head sharply—
The sword was through Shedletsky’s gut before he could get a single word out.
The pain was immediate and piercing - a flash of cold steel tearing through him, the sensation of his insides twisting around the blade, his breath catching in his throat.
Then it stopped, and the world went black.
He woke up back in the cabin.
Well. That was fast.
The fireplace crackled beside him. His body felt normal and whole, untouched from what had just happened. The others were already settling in as usual, with Elliot grabbing some Bloxy Cola for everyone.
“Shed,” Builderman’s voice was heavy with confusion and it cut through Shedletsky’s thoughts. He casually turns his attention to the shorter, who’s giving him a scrutinizing glare with his arms crossed against his chest. “What were ya tryin’ to do? Have ya gone mad?”
Shedletsky stretches and shoots Builderman a lopsided grin. “I dunno, man. I just have a feeling.”
★
The round started in a place Shedletsky didn’t care to recognize. Some random hotel with odd colored rooms and strange hallways left and right. He could hear the distant commotion: the others whispering to each other, boots scuffing across the ground, the soft hum of a generator trying to start up.
Shedletsky, however, had other priorities.
He didn’t have to look far this time. 1x1x1x1 was already moving, his glow cutting through the dim lights of the hotel like a sickly beacon. He was sprinting with such precision, every step heavy against the floor, but it almost looked mechanical in a way - as if his path was dictated before the round had even started.
Shedletsky breathed out, running a hand through his curly brown hair. Then, once again, he began walking forward.
Not running, not sneaking. Just walking.
It happened even faster than before. One second, he was closing the distance between them - ten feet, maybe less - and then the next, something cold and sharp was driving itself through his chest.
Shedletsky barely had time to register the pain before the blade was yanked back out, leaving only a fleeting rush of air where his heart would have been. He staggered forward a step, vision already swimming, before his knees buckled beneath him.
From somewhere above him, 1x1x1x1 speaks, his voice low, glitchy, and dismissive; “PITIFUL.”
Darkness consumed him.
Then, as always, he woke up, greeted by the warm flicker of the fireplace.
Builderman was waiting, sitting next to him on the cushioned seat. “Alright,” He starts, voice calm but firm, staring at Shedletsky with the same expression as last time. “Are ya gonna actually tell me what exactly yer doin’?”
Shedletsky didn’t even have time to get up from the couch nor open his mouth before Chance jumped into the conversation, sliding over from the other room. “He’s been throwin’ himself at 1x. Literally. I mean, sheesh, I thought I was the adrenaline junkie, but you really have a death wish, don'tcha?” The gambler grins, clearly enjoying this far too much. “You just walked up to him and got completely obliterated! ”
Builderman did not look nearly as entertained as the other. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shed.”
Shedletsky, disregarding the conversation entirely, simply stretches his arms again. “What?”
“What are ya tryin’ to pull? If ya keep doin’ this, it’s gonna raise questions…” Builderman spares a look at Chance looming over them, “...More than it already has.”
From across the room, near the stairs, Two Time glances over. “Will it really matter? Fate has decided that luck is not on his side. It is as simple as that.”
Shedletsky ignores them and gives a lazy shrug, slumping back against the couch. “I’m just testing something.”
Chance raises an eyebrow underneath their sunglasses. “Testing what?” He snorts, “Your damn pain tolerance?”
“Something like that.”
Builderman sighs, visibly restraining himself from saying something more. “Just… be more careful, alright?”
Shedletsky waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah.”
There wasn’t really a point in being careful in the rounds if they’ll all just revive. Builderman knows that.
★
Again, he spotted 1x1x1x1 from across the map rather early. The area this time was pretty open - some sort of grasslands with arches and random, pale walls with an endless glowing sky above them.
Shedletsky could tell the exact moment 1x1x1x1 spotted him. He felt the very shift in the air as they made eye-contact, bright red eyes piercing through the thin fog. The darkened figure of the killer tilted its head ever so slightly, and then bolted forward.
He had half a second. A normal person would run. A normal person would duck and find a place to hide, or weave around the walls and arches to get out of 1x1x1x1’s line of sight.
Shedletsky, as firmly established, was not a normal person.
So, instead, he spread his arms out like a fool, and grinned. “Hey, gorgeous—!” He calls out.
He caught just a sliver of hesitation - shock, maybe, or maybe just the trick of the weird lighting in the clearing - before a shadowy sword flashes, and there’s a deep searing wound from his stomach to his sternum.
The world twists, the glittering sky going sideways, and he feels himself gurgling up blood before 1x1x1x1 attacks once more, and then it all goes black again.
A moment of nothing. Then, he wakes up.
The memory of that fleeting pause stays with him. 1x1x1x1 hesitated - not much, and maybe not even intentionally, but it was hilarious to see.
Shedletsky grins up at the ceiling as the others shuffle around him. He has to stifle genuine laughter from crawling up his throat. It didn’t seem like anyone saw his stupidity this time, and Builderman wasn’t pulling him aside, nor was anyone else, so he could only think one thing about this continued ordeal;
This is gonna be good.
★
There was something funny about how fast Shedletsky was dying.
…Well, maybe “funny” wasn’t the right word.
He leaned against an abandoned truck, taking in the sight of the empty amusement park around him. The air was stagnant, with red and white neon lights flickering in the distance. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the others, as always.
Shedletsky ran a hand through his curls, exhaling slowly.
He had been Telamon once. A god with a different purpose - it was starting to feel so long ago that he didn’t even remember. He didn’t feel like the same person anymore, and yet, the past still came to haunt him - haunted everyone, really.
1x1x1x1 existed because of him.
Born from his hate, his own mistakes, his own loathing. And Telamon had done nothing but throw him to the side, denying him.
Shedletsky tilted his head up. He should be focusing on something else - on survival, on protecting people. That had been the quiet promise way back when this nightmare started. He and Builderman had looked at the terrified survivors, the chaos, the endless cycle of death, and decided - they were going to make sure as many people lived as possible. Whatever it takes.
And yet here he was, throwing himself into death over and over again, whenever 1x1x1x1 was killer, just wasting time.
A flicker of guilt uncomfortably wormed its way into his chest. He pushed it aside.
He wasn’t really doing this out of remorse - he just wanted to see what 1x1x1x1 would do. To see if he could crack something with his infinite amount of do-overs, just for the hell of it.
And if, somewhere deep down, he felt regret? Well, it wasn’t important right now.
He heard movement.
Shedletsky turns his head, spotting the sickly green glow of his target cutting through the air. 1x1x1x1 was already moving towards him, fast, chains clanking and sword dragging across the ground, leaving a burning trail of venom in its wake.
This time, Shedletsky was ready. When 1x1x1x1 lunged, he dodged - just barely, the tip of the blade had only nicked his arm. He laughed.
“Y’know,” He drawled, taking a step back. “You seem awfully obsessed with me. Claiming that your entire purpose is to kill me and all.”
1x1x1x1 paused and twitched.
It was a subtle thing, barely a fraction of movement, before the sword drove itself through his chest.
The pain didn’t even register this time before the world collapsed around him.
When Shedletsky woke up again, he could already feel the eyes on him.
The fire crackled in the background, throwing flickers of shadows against the walls of their safehouse. Builderman approached him, arms crossed, eyes heavy with something between concern and exasperation.
“You,” He started, slow and deliberate, “...are gonna actually explain yerself.”
Shedletsky groans dramatically, sinking into the couch. “What, I can’t have a little fun in this place?”
“This ain’t fun, Shed,” Builderman shot back. “I saw ya talkin’ to it.”
He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, Shedletsky tapped his fingers against the armrest, considering. Then, with a lazy grin, he says, “I have a hypothesis.”
Builderman narrowed his eyes. “A hypothesis.” He repeated flatly.
“Yep.”
The shorter exhales sharply, shaking his head. His voice was quieter this time, edged with something tired. “Ya remember, don’t ya? The promise?”
Something curled in Shedletsky’s chest.
“We said when this whole thing started, we’d do everythin’ to keep these people alive. To protect ‘em.” Builderman’s tone wasn’t exactly accusing, just weighted. He looked at him, really looked at him, before continuing. “I don’t get it. Yer not even fightin’ back with him anymore. You just keep throwin’ yerself at him like you’ve lost it.”
Shedletsky looks around for a moment. The others had devolved into their usual routines - Two Time, Chance, and Taph were exiting out of the cabin. Dusekkar, Guest, and Noob were walking up the stairs. Elliot was chatting with 007n7.
Finally, he hums thoughtfully in response. “Maybe I have.”
Builderman didn’t look amused in the slightest. The silence gets a bit awkward after a few moments, as if he was genuinely considering if his friend had gone mad.
“Relax, Builder.” Shedletsky says, voice going soft. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you, now?”
“Of course. I mean,” He chuckles, “You’ve seen the way he acts around me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he has a little crush.”
Builderman stares at him for a very long moment.
Shedletsky holds his gaze the entire time, his wide grin unfaltering.
Finally, Builderman lets out the biggest, most exhausted sigh he’d ever heard. “I hate you. You are not doin’ this.”
“That’s fair. And I totally am.”
★
Maybe Shedletsky was just a little bit of a masochist, but he had to admit - he was really starting to enjoy this.
By now, the routine was the same. It was the same amusement park as last time, empty save for the neon lights and the broken rides. 1x1x1x1 already spotted him, and the sound of chains scraping against each other was eerily familiar.
Shedletsky dodged again, like last time, fast enough for the blade to just barely miss him. The air crackled where venomous steel sliced through nothing, and Shedletsky smiles, taking a singular, confident step back.
“You must think about me an awful lot, huh?” He says, voice edged with amusement. He visibly relaxes himself, opening his arms. “You could just say you like me instead of trying to stab me all the time.”
It wasn’t just that 1x1x1x1 paused. He stuttered.
It was a twitch. A single, faltering step, and then he speaks, his voice rough and glitched.
“WHAT.”
The word sounded like it was ripped out of him, half-stunned, like he didn’t even process what he said.
And then the hesitation vanished in an instant, and the sword slammed into his chest, a burning-hot flash of pain before the world faded to black.
This time, Shedletsky woke up laughing.
He got a real reaction. It wasn’t the usual “pitiful” or “how naive” or “pathetic” or whatever 1x1x1x1 usually says when he used to kill Shedletsky. This time, 1x1x1x1 had faltered. Had hesitated.
And wasn’t that just the funniest thing?
He was getting through, little by little, crack by crack. All he had to do was be unpredictable.
Next time, he’d try to go even further. He was already thinking of his next line.