Pick Danny up and twirl him around like the pretty princess he is 🩷
Also
Danny: Baby it's cute, it really is but... you can't keep the bow on
S/O: Whyg not :((
Danny: People are supposed to think there's one of us. They won't think there's one of us, if one of us has a cute little accesory on
S/O: We'll murder 'em
Danny: ...
Danny: Yeah I can't really argue with that
Danny didn't know why he decided to add a partner, maybe because he was bored, but he finally found someone who matched his freak and his appreciation for the design. you looked so cute your face all scrunched up as you poured over your newest victim's routine. Someone simple, a superintendent for the local school district.
Danny had insisted that he was too big of a target and mundane enough, but somehow with those puppy dog eyes and whining. (not to mention providing evidence that the people were mostly neutral about him, and pointing out that even those in power need to be reminded they're not safe from Ghostface.) you got him to cave. pretty basic routine honestly, but that just makes it all the easier. 3 kills, move on, two were already taken care of, and it was time for the grand final.
Danny came up from behind resting his chin on your head when his eyes fell upon your mask. decorated with a pink bow. It was adorable honestly. He reached out grabbed the mask and flipped it around to study it. "Baby, I know you might think that's cute, but we're selling a story here. We're supposed to be scary and a bow doesn't fit that design." You lean back in your chair a smirk on your face as you fold your arms.
"And what's more terrifying to a fragile man than to be murdered by someone in a pretty bow. getting all covered in his blood" You chuckled loudly. Danny set the mask down softly turning to face you slowly. "It doesn't follow the design." his eyes narrow the closer he gets. crowding into your space. "The design is whatever we want sweetie." you stand up grin still plastered on your face as you feel his posture faltering as he leans into the desk pinned between your arms. leaning in close you whisper into his ear, "Think about it, you think the killer is some strong powerful muscular man, that's how he overpowers everyone, but then just for you he shows up at your house giggling, laughing, skipping practically with a pretty pink bow hot glued to his mask as guts you like a fish on camera."
Danny swallows thickly nodding his head, "Yeah," his throat dry as all he can think about is how incredibly hot you are right now and how he just wants to feel you on top of him, he nods, "The bow can stay." you grab his face forcing him to look you in the eye, "good boy." you growl lowly eyes half-lidded.
You listen to the voice of your mother, obeying her words like scripture.
Unlocks potential in your Aura-reading ability.
Whenever you strike a Survivor with a Basic or Special Attack, Mother Knows Best activates:
The Survivor you struck becomes the new Obsession, if not already.
Upon hitting the Obsession with a Special Attack, they suffer from the Hemorrhage Status Effect if the Bloodlust boon is in effect.
If any Survivor(s) who are not the Obsession are within your Terror Radius, their Auras are revealed to you for 10/15/20 seconds.
“That’s my boy. That’s my Jason.” — Pamela Voorhees
Make Them Pay
Your thirst for vengeance is soothed, momentarily, by the pained cries of those you hunt. This has not gone unnoticed by the Entity.
You become obsessed with one Survivor.
Each time you damage a Generator, Make Them Pay gains 1 Token, for a maximum of 5 Tokens:
Each Token grants a stack-able penalty of 5/5.5/6 per Token, up to a maximum of 25/27.5/30%, to the following Action speeds of Survivors:
Unlocking the Exit Gates or the Hatch.
Self-healing, healing another Survivor, or recovering from the Dying State.
Repairing Generators.
Opening Lockers.
Vaulting Windows.
The Obsession is unaffected by the above penalties and is instead granted a 3% Haste Status Effect, as well as an 11% boost to Unhooking and Healing themselves. If they are the last Survivor still alive in the Trial, the Exit Gates and the Hatch are blocked by the Entity for 6/7/8 seconds for every Token in your possession, up to a maximum of 30/35/40 seconds.
You can only be obsessed with one Survivor at a time.
“Don’t let them escape, Jason! They don’t belong here!” — Pamela Voorhees
Hex: Maternal Memento
A Hex once rooted in your mother’s love now births only despair for those who sully her memory.
The signs of trespassers don’t escape your notice.
You become obsessed with one Survivor.
Whenever the Obsession loses a Health State by any means and reaches the Injured State, Hex: Maternal Memento activates:
The Scratch Marks and Pools of Blood left behind by the Obsession linger for 4/8/12 seconds longer. This effect is stack-able by an additional 3/6/9 seconds if they are suffering from the Hemorrhage Status Effect while in the Mother’s Shrine area of the Camp Crystal Lake map, for a maximum of 7/14/21 seconds.
Survivors cleansing or blessing any Totem suffer from the Exposed Status Effect for 15/25/35 seconds.
If the Obsession is cleansing or blessing any Totem, the Status Effect persists for an additional 5/10/15 seconds.
After cleansing or blessing a Totem, the Auras of all Survivors are revealed to you for 25 seconds.
All effects of the Hex Perk persist until its Hex Totem is cleansed or blessed.
You can only be obsessed with one Survivor at a time.
“Jason! Mother is talking to you! Find them! Make them remember me, Jason!” — Pamela Voorhees
Fave fic you've written?, how do you get yourself in the mood to write?, what inspires your fic ideas?
In case my emojis aren't displayed ;)
Thanks for your answer! :3c
It’s okay! Some of the emojis aren’t showing up for me either.
🥰 fave fic you’ve written?
Mannnnn there are too many. I love all my children equally but if I had to choose, I feel quite fond of the perpetual purgatory that I put Doc under for Dead By Daylight AU.
🍄how do you get yourself in the mood to write?
I need music in my ear to get in the zone. The problem is that I usually listen to them on YouTube, which is the procrastination land with tonnes of videos for me to get distracted with. Nowadays I run Joji’s entire album of Nectar on loop.
💡what inspires your fic ideas?
I used to draw inspirations from certain scenes I’ve seen, but nowadays it’s also affected by the kinds of dynamics I want to see from each characters. And maybe that’s why my fics are becoming more dialogue orientated than before, so I should probably think about balancing that out. Oh and alternative universes come and go like a flickering light bulb so I guess that’s that.
After walking along the gravelly road adorned with strange thorns, the operators find a forked road. These are no ordinary soldiers, they are the military specialists with righteous hearts but stained hands; whose good deeds and sins are at equilibrium on justice's scale. Will they choose to fight against the evil and never have a moment to rest? Or succumb to higher power and rise above the mortality?
The first time Doc stumbled onto a hospital in the middle of nowhere, he was a little startled but relieved. A sign of life, people and perhaps vehicles to borrow. So he didn’t expect to be greeted with feverish eagerness by the staff members, and then put on a white doctor’s gown, blue sterile gloves and green masks. None listened to his plea for a calm conversation as they pushed him into an operating room and let the sterile solution spray-bathe him. The white vapour dissipates to reveal two operating tables; a young child and elderly on each. In a brightly lit room with spotlessly clean white tiles, he saw a group of assistants on standby with their hands upright to ensure hygiene. The situation led him to take the matter into his own hands despite million questions on his mind.
1st: After judging each patients’ vitals and medical records, Doc made the decision to perform the surgery on the older. The mortality rate due to infection and blood loss is more lethal on those who have slower resilience, and that’s the woe of aging. Hernia is quick to remove and indeed it took him a little more than an hour. Just as he was about to seal the incision, a loud beat almost made him drop the sewing kit. Doc snapped his neck to check on the child’s heart rate monitor and how his chest tightened to see the pulse losing stability. But he couldn’t sew a skin back like a ragdoll. Shaky jaws and laboured breathing aside, Doc kept his hands calm to perform a precise stitching and watched the assistants sterilise the area.
He thought those split moments could be spared. The child was still alive when Doc stood close to the table. Then when he reached out for a surgical scalpel, the monitor began to beep. A single note drawn out, the paranoia inducing siren that forces all the hair stand on his skin. An immediate action to check the breathing and pulse. He sensed nothing within ten seconds so the chest compressions began, and asked to ready the defibrillator. After thirty bumps, he expected the assistants to standby with the promised defibrillator, and yet there was no one. In fact, a lot seemed to have disappeared. Assistants, the elderly, equipment and bloodied clothes and cotton buds. There was only him, the dead child and the monitor that’s gone silent as if someone turned it off in the midst of Doc’s frenzy to save a life.
“Time of death,” He looked around to find a clock on the wall, “Eleven-twenty P.M.” Confusion turned into helplessness, and then rage at these medical staffs for forsaking a life that could’ve been saved. He ripped off the tainted gloves and stormed towards the door, fully expecting reasonable excuses to bellow at.
2nd: Not a nudge; he kicked the door open. The room he stepped into was very similar to the one he walked out from; blindingly bright, cold toned halogen, clean tiles and the same clock has its hour hand on ten. Ten? That’s when he started hernia surgery on that elderly. Two operating tables with fully grown adults in each, and the same assistants stood on the side.
Doc grabbed on one of them and shook by the collar, “Where am I? What kind of place is it here and where is that poor child- How can you let them poor child die? Who are you all?” He demanded answers to his questions and found two aimless eyes, as if this person had their mind elsewhere. The rest of them were the same. Lacked any reaction or response, but only moved when Doc walked over to one of the patients. Who are these people? Robots? Eccentric cult members? But this place had proper facilities and tools, which gave an impression to be a legitimate hospital. He put the uneasiness aside, turned his focus towards the patients’ medical records and found no other details then their birth years and the area that requires surgical attention. Nothing of physical examinations or histories. Just numbers to show who were born first and notes on their kidney failures. What is he supposed to do?
He chose the patient who was younger. Doc made sure the other patient had been looked after during his first surgery, but all he heard was the sporadic beep of someone’s heart failing. The older patient died as soon as he picked up a clean scalpel to perform an incision. Again, those so-called assistants were nowhere to be seen.
3rd: Until he opened the door to be led into the same room at the same time as he first met the child and elderly. Ten in the evening and there were a different patient on each of the two operating tables. Except this time, one with a Rolex around their wrist had more assistants standing around while the other had less than three. Upon close observation, this patient’s hands were wrinkled with callouses soaked in dirt and nails caked with dark residues. The medical files mentioned their names, ages and common ailments they share. Nothing else. Hoping that the seemingly wealthier patient will be looked after by the assistants, Doc performs surgery on the other. The same pattern happened again. Whoever Doc priotised got to live. It’s almost as if he was forced to act as a God.
Doc left the room, praying to be led outside rather than being put against a literal guilt trip. He nearly teared up to hear a clack of hard tiles against his shoes and ticks from the clock indicating ten. One change he saw was a newspaper splayed on the floor, which had an article about an untimely death of a CEO who started from the bottom, rose to prosperity and had spread the goodness by actively donating to charities. The other side of the newspaper reveals about a heroic deed of civil defense that captured a suspect from their home. A portrait looked a lot like the patient whom he saved. But does the media spread the truth? Or hype up fabricate stories to rile up the publicity? Doc swallowed down the queasiness, threw the paper away and walked over to another set of operating tables.
4th: Two babies with weak hearts. One had a family name and the other was destined to be sent to the ‘Home of Hope.’ An orphanage. Doc spent most of the time wiping off the falling tears as he worked on the infant who might have parents waiting in anticipation. After hearing the orphan die, Doc bolted out to meet a new dilemma and hoped this would be the last.
5th: Still the same room, same time. He snatched the medical files to see who these patients were, and apparently both committed inhuman crimes. How the fuck- How is he compelled to choose between a dictator and war criminal?
“I’m not doing this,” He gritted and thrashed away the cabinets, “Whoever the fuck you are, I am done playing your games. Let me out right this-” Not a word to finish his sentence. Doc had to cease the yelling when he felt tightness and searing pain around his neck. It took seconds to find himself constricted and slammed down on the floor, and that’s when he saw a scene straight out from botanical horror. Black vines covered in thorns were squeezing out between tiles, and all of them were set out to wrap Doc as a whole. Squirming like a rat trapped in the snake's grasp, Doc knew when his voice box popped as he screamed and howled in agony. Thousands prickles pierced into every inch of his skin until he was choked to be rendered breathless. When he regained conscience, he heard something break inside of him at the sight of white tiles and clock on ten.
How he wished to travel back in time and turn away from this curse hospital. What did he do to deserve a spot in perpetual purgatory? Doc was put against choices after choices, and every single one he made felt revolting. Downright disgusting and riveting, as he was hardly the right man to judge whose life deserves more rights.
11th: A drug lord and a human trafficker. Doc refused to perform, then got bound until the vine punctured into his stomach. The blood loss succumbed him into a coma until he woke up in a completely healthy condition to choose again.
15th: An alcoholic and a cigarette addict.
23rd: Two lovers; one with lung cancer and the other risking their life to donate the organ.
31st: A petty thief who had stolen a thousand times and a drunk driver who killed one person in an accidental car crash.
47th: A racist and a sexist.
56th: A rapist and pedophile was another instance where he crumpled onto the ground and demanded a way out. After knowing what it feels like to have barbed wires climbing from ear canals to the brain, and having the similar treatment a couple of times, he finally chose one.
64th: A teenager who is suspected of being a psychopath due to low empathy quotient, and a school bully who is directly related to their classmate’s suicide.
70th: A military general whose single sheet of document shed million’s blood, and a rebel leader that recruited children to fight in their stead.
91st: Himself in military gear and himself in a doctor's gown.
“What’s this?” His remark was a whisper. Then a feat of cough which escalated into chuckle, laughter and a cackle as he dug nails into his cheeks, “What- what am I supposed to do? Do you want me to kill myself?” The assistants stood still, ever so silent like a bunch of puppets who had been moving along with fingers that gripped on the scalpel. Doc didn’t hesitate to read whatever illness his carbon copies would be suffering. The common malady was a brain tumor, and he also saw numbers. But this time, it’s the amount he killed. Both versions of himself had taken the lives of a thousand, “How?” On what method was this amount measured? On what record written by whom? His blood ran cold and nausea started to set in. Surely, he could have killed about that amount of terrorists while being in the Rainbow but as a doctor? How can a doctor murder that many?
He flinched upon a sharp jab on his ankle. The black vine was slithering beneath, ready to engulf if a choice wasn’t made soon enough. Pure madness in a visualised nightmare. Doc gripped onto the frame until his knuckles turned white, as he grasped onto wavering sanity against impending torture.
He had to choose and this was going to be the very last. Was it himself as a doctor or a soldier?
Killer!Doc
“No.” He released the tension and dropped down between two tables, “Just. End this,” Not a dryness in the throat or eyes like a man who had worked like he hadn’t slept for four days straight. That was probably the total amount of time he spent in this endless operating room, but his body was constantly reset back to the very ‘first’ ten in the evening, “End this. End this. End it.” With a scalpel in his right and scissors in the left, his hands flew to land a firm stab into both of sleeping doppelgangers’ throats. He knew how a doctor can kill a thousand. The relationship between the criminals he saved and the innocent lives lost. Doc regretted everything he had done tonight and laid to watch the sticky red drip onto the tiles. He didn’t not care for rising thorns, gaining height to form a wall to trap him in. Shadows loomed over, gradually and yet surely closed in to bury an empty husk of a man. Pain caused him to twitch and scream yet again, but he had no energy to fill the room with his echo. Slight whimper as air sucked out from the throat. Doc made a choice, and didn’t make one at the same time.
When he opens his eyes, there’s an empty operating table. He sees a lady in white, hovering with her tethered gown fluttering to reveal a pair of malnourished legs. She has a bag over to hide her face, but dry coughs and cooing somewhat felt human to Doc. Her fingertip reaches out for a caress on his cheeks, then points at a distant sign of light. Four people hurdling around the campfire, full of warmth and blood. Doc pushes the operating table towards them, wondering if he needs to find out whether they are worthy to live or not. He is a doctor, after all. That’s all he can remember, and everything he needs to know.
Appearance: Skin is pale to a point of bearing blueish grey. The GIGN gears are nowhere to be seen. Now he’s wearing a white doctor’s gown, brown buttoned up shirt (dried up blood colour) blue sterile gloves and green mask. He also has a black office pants on, but the ankle areas have black vines writhing as he walks.
Weapon - Scalpel.
Power: Operating table.
1 portable set up device. Press M2 to set it up on a flat surface, also M2 to dismantle. The amount it takes to set up and dismantle is 7 seconds.
Doc can load a survivor suffering from a dying state on the operating table. It takes him 3 seconds to load (the loading animation will be him throwing the survivor on and binding them with black vines around the chest/arm area and legs.)
The survivor can wriggle out of the operating table. It will be the same amount of time it takes for them to wriggle out of the killer’s grasp - default time 16 seconds. This can be affected by perks.
Doc can perform surgery to the survivor on the operating table. He can give them the following status effect(s):
Hold 1 for Blindness (default seconds to perform, 3)
Hold 2 for Broken (default seconds to perform,10)
Hold 3 for Exhausted (default seconds to perform, 7)
Hold 4 for Haemorrhage (default seconds to perform, 3)
Hold 5 for Hindered (default seconds to perform, 5)
Hold 6 for Mangled (default seconds to perform, 5)
The operation cannot be disturbed by a flashlight. However, other survivors can try to pull the straps apart to accelerate the operated survivor’s escape.
Add ons:
Brand new med-tools: Doc finally can throw away the rusted scissors! Reduces 1 seconds from the surgeries he performs.
Steel straps: ‘Please don’t move when your stomach is wide open.’ Doc has sturdier, stronger straps. Adds 3 more seconds to the survivor’s wriggling while on the operation table.
Titanium operating table: ‘Throw away the squeaky old table!’ This new model is the way to go. Reduced 2 seconds for setting up and dismantling the operating table.
Perks:
Thanatophobia from The Nurse - For each injured, dying or hooked survivor, all survivors receive a stack-able penalty of 4/4.5/5% to their repair, healing, and sabotage speed up to a maximum of 16/18/20%.
Precision cut (au-fanon) - When Doc puts a survivor into a dying state with basic attacks, there is a 50/75/100% chance to cause the deep haemorrhage status effect. (The deep haemorrhage status effect makes a survivor in a dying state bleed out 50% faster and recover 25% slower. The status effect will change to haemorrhage status effect when healed back to an injured state.)
I judgeth thee (au-fanon) - Activates from the moment when the first unhooking happens. Reveals the aura of a survivor with the least amount of score in Altruism category. The radius in effect is related to the killer’s terror radius.
Memento Mori: Doc raises his hand to summon black vines that bind the survivor’s wrists, ankles and neck onto the ground. He kneels down to pull out their eyes and tongue, and then shove a scalpel into the ear canals to pop the drum. He then watches the survivor writhe in agony (wondering if they will live for some miraculous reason.) Then he flinches as if he realises they won’t live, which prompts him to push the scalpel against the survivor’s throat to finally end them.
-
Survivor!Doc
“I’ve no choice,” He coughed out a response and saw the vines crawling at a steady pace, “Unless I try something different.” Doc dared to move from the spot and stride around the tables. The thorns ripped into his pants, but they seem to react rather sluggishly than he expected. He checked the locks on all four wheels of each, and gripped tight on the frames again while facing the door. With a laboured heave, Doc strained to pull two tables at once and walked towards the exit, “I really need to lose weight,” Apparently it’s physically taxing to drag two adult men even they are laying still on a deathbed trolley. He wondered if those assistants would become actively hostile, but they kept watching with the same blank expression. The vines proved to be bigger threat as he approached closer to the door; they swirled and gathered to resemble a dense bush, quite determined to shred Doc’s legs into skinless muscle mass.
But Doc hadn’t lost his wits. Especially after witnessing the newfound behaviour from these vines, learning how they’re almost desperate. The tiles beneath him were no longer white, as he bled relentlessly. And yet, not a single thorn touched his doppelgangers on the tables. It’s now or never. As he squeezed every grams of courage and rage, Doc wrapped his two arms under both bodies and heaved to lift. It should be near impossible for a lone human to carry a total of hundred and fifty kilograms, but who the fuck cares? This whole situation had been bizarre. Weird, horrifying and unfair. Doc told himself that he gained a herculean strength, because anything should be possible at this point. If a sentient monster vines and rewinding purgatory were the reality here, then he could choose to be absolutely ridiculous by carrying two of himselves out.
The vines, no, something else made a rasp. Akin to hiss and growl like a feral animal would, and it became louder when Doc put the dangling bodies forward. It was no easy feat because every step had him sweating like a man trapped in tropical rainforest. Breath thinned and every fiber of his muscles ached, but he refused to give up. Two more steps. A nudge to open the door, and he saw the corridor. No one was around to see him off. Not a soul other than nerve wrecking shrieks as he neared to the entrance. It took him a while to notice the colder air cooling down his glistening forehead, and that’s how he escaped from the hospital. The realisation finally dawned on him, and that prompted all the tension to come loose. Doc collapsed onto the ground and he would have kissed the gravelly road, thanking it to be rugged and dirty instead of being smooth and white. But he had no energy left. Fatigue hit like a two tonne truck and knocked him out cold.
His eyelids are coarser than sandpaper, and yet it’s hard to stay asleep with wavering light flickering around. When he stirs up, the first thing to check is the ground. The grainy texture put him to ease and that’s when he’s ready to open his eyes. Night sky, trees and yellow-orange hue from a campfire. Then someone shoves their face close to him, which brings out a yelp from Doc. Another person yells, berating how some people don’t have manners. Then a soft spoken chiding asks them to be calm, for they shouldn’t frighten a man who were passed out on the road.
The three people introduced themselves and taught Doc what they know (perks):
Wake up! from Quentin Smith - Unlocks potential in one's aura-reading ability.
Once all generators are powered, exit gates are revealed to you when within a range of 128 metres. While opening the exit gates, reveal your aura to other survivors within a range of 128 metres. While ‘Wake Up!’ is active, you open exit gates 5/10/15% faster.
Solidarity from Jane Romero - While injured, healing a survivor without using a Med-Kit also heals you at a 40/45/50% conversion rate.
Empathy from Claudette Morel - Unlocks potential in one's aura-reading ability.
dying or injured allies' auras are revealed to you when within 64/96/128 metres of range. ‘Empathy’ does not reveal auras of allies when they are in the killer's direct contact.
As a man with professional medical training, Doc also teaches them lifesaving tips (perks):
Ready-made STIM: Press ‘E’ to heal a injured or dying survivor in an instant. Must use a Med-Kit and the charges within the Med-Kits are instantly transferred to the healing progress. 120 seconds cooldown.
Bandages and casts: When Doc (or a survivor with this perk,) heals a survivor, they become immune to status effects such as haemorrhage, hindered, mangled for 30/45/60 seconds.
After walking along the gravelly road adorned with strange thorns, the operators find a forked road. These are no ordinary soldiers, they are the military specialists with righteous hearts but stained hands; whose good deeds and sins are at equilibrium on justice's scale. Will they choose to fight against the evil and never have a moment to rest? Or succumb to higher power and rise above the mortality?
*!
Shit. Another pebble sticks onto him and that’s probably the fifty-something-eth. This is what he should be worried about, not what he is incapable of as a renowned veteran at his age. Ever since he’s separated away from the group, it’s been him and the vacant road full of fog and thorns. The accumulated weight and shield is starting to feel tiresome, and yet he presses on to walk until the end. It could be more logical to conserve his energy and wait for possible passerby cars or civilians, but such a chance seems slim. That’s what some of his smarter colleagues might do.
*!
And even if he meets someone, what’re the odds to find someone who speaks English or French?
*!
Try to be positive! English is quite common all around the world nowadays. If only Montagne can figure out his whereabouts, things could get a whole lot easier,
*!
Rephrase; more comfortable. It will ease his heart.
*-
He looks behind to check the sound that’s entirely new. A pebble. The same old that’s been sticking onto him as he walked along, but this is the first time to see it on the floor rather than his body. This is not the time to slow down. Montagne turns back and continues to travel, despite not knowing where this road will end. People are waiting for him.
Or are they?
*!
God knows where they are. How they’re holding up. But they’re probably fine without him worrying about them.
*!
There’s no obvious threat here. Just an endless gravel road with barren trees, thorns and obscured skies. He should let go of the shield and focus on keeping his feet light. Walk faster. But what if an occasion rises for protection? Without any firearms in the holster, this slab of metal is the only saving grace. It’s the sole purpose of his role in Rainbow.
*!
Maybe they have left him behind. He could have covered a greater distance by now if nothing weighed him down.
*!
There’s always been a doubt. These new operatives come in the whole package; impressive skill sets, experiences and connections. Of course Montagne is fully aware of how competent he is, being one of the most respected members in GIGN isn’t a sandcastle to be built and wiped out over a day. An honest hard work; anyone can attest to that. So does he have the right to doubt himself? All because he doesn’t speak multiple languages like the majority of other operatives can?
*! *! *!
His knee buckles down from impacts. Now there is a mound of pebbles piled up, holding its form on his backside. At this rate, he won’t be able to move any further than he wishes to. It’s time he decides.
Should he let go or hold on?
Killer!Montagne
He needs the shield, just as it needs him. This model is the one of a kind, a relic drenched with Montagne’s own blood and sweat. It’s the very symbol that represents who he is, and that’s no way to respect a lifelong friend by abandoning it in the middle of nowhere for his own convenience. No matter how many pebbles continue to fly at him for some demon’s physics, Montagne extends Le Roc to its full length. The longer he withstands the oncoming stone shower, sturdier his grip becomes. It takes a moment for Montagne to experience what claustrophobia is like, with a copious amount of pebbles piling over him until he’s completely covered. Suffocated and compressed. Montagne stands stiff against the shield and loses consciousness.
When he wakes up, it must have been quite some time. Seeing blooms of brown rusts on Le Roc, and yet the extension spring functions effortlessly. Nothing else comes up in his brain other than distant emotions that managed to remain within him; disappointment and shame which somehow combines into unrequited respect. The first being who is close to Montagne is a gangly man in a singlet. The horrible deformity is painful to describe; it’s as if someone melted the man’s skin like a wax, and then brushed it in one stroke from face to shoulder. Neither exchanges a word, as the man’s eyes glint at Montagne and his beloved shield. Then he walks away, to which Montagne follows to find a new purpose rather than search for what he has forgotten.
Appearance: The entire backside is covered with pebbles and mosses to fill in the gaps. He still has the helmet on, but has taken off the balaclava to reveal his face. The skin beneath has lost the tones as a warmed blooded human. Grey, cracked and darker patches around the zones where bones are prominent (cheeks, nose and chin.) Voids fill the gaps where eyeballs should be. The military gears still remain, but the padded areas and bullet proof vest are ripped off and replaced with slabs of stones.
Weapon - Rusted shield (unextended.)
Power: Shield extension
When he attacks, the lower half of the shield extends to give him a longer reach to attack.
Has 2 charges to activate the longer reach.
Cooldown for each charge is 5 seconds (therefore two consecutive usage of extendable shield is 10 seconds.)
Hit the survivor once - Injured state.
Hit the same survivor twice - Dying state.
When Montagne holds M2 to sustain the attack, he can use the shield to block a pallet pulled down upon him. This costs 1 charge.
Add ons:
Whetstone: Montagne has ground the end of his shield to a sharp edge. Upon hitting the survivor with his ‘shield extension’ it has a 70% chance of giving the survivor 'haemorrhage’ status.
Padded metal: Montagne added another layer at the end of his shield to give it a blunt finish. Upon hitting the survivor with his ‘shield extension’ it has a 70% chance of giving the survivor ‘mangled’ status.
Hundred pebbles: All those weights that held Montagne down now sticks onto his shield. Moderately decreases Montagne’s movement speed when he uses the ‘shield extension,’ inflicts the dying state upon the survivor.
Perks:
Enduring from Hillbilly - The duration of pallet stuns is reduced by 40/45/50%.
How dare you? (au-fanon) - Upon witnessing ‘protection hit’ from the survivor(s,) an uncontrollable rage fills the killer’s heart. The terror radius is increased by 8 metres. Upon chasing after the survivor who performed ‘protection hit,’ the time consumed to gain ‘bloodlust’ tiers are decreased (from 15 seconds to 10 seconds.)
Complacency (au-fanon) - As he hooks the survivors, he becomes less eager to murder but more interested in keeping them in the ‘realm.’ 1 hook gives a buff of 1% increase in damaging the repair progress but debuff in movement speed while carrying a survivor in ‘dying state.’ (Total of 11% in buff and debuff.)
Memento Mori: Montagne swings his shield to have the survivor laying flat on the ground. He then slams the shield down on their stomach, the steel goes through flesh and bone. Making it look like the shield is a make-shift gravestone. Camera view pans from bottom of the shield (where survivor’s blood is splattered on the shield) to top (where Montagne’s face looks down on them with solemn frown) then he pulls the shield back into his hand.
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Survivor!Montagne
There are time and places to be stubborn, and right now isn’t it. Montagne and Le Roc has been through thick and thin together, and he knows all the intricate details of the comrade in his hand. He’s the one who maintains the shield, so eventually he also learned the art of dismantling and resembling. The Research and Development team will fully support him, as well as the other colleagues who is aware of how much Le Roc means to him. Yes, this particular shield may be irreplaceable. But it lives within Montagne’s heart and all the lessons he had learned from it. He whispers, “See you soon,” and releases the grip. As he hears a thud, all the pebbles stuck on his body also falls. Myriads of them drum the floor, the sound akin to heavy rainfall but there’s nothing to hold him back. Feather-like steps to take off, Montagne lifts up the visor and greets the gentle breeze on his exposed eyes as he sprints down the road.
It’s a little alarming to see a campfire in a middle of nowhere, even more so to see three people staring at him with guarded expressions. A lady who’s quite well-dressed approaches Montagne and extends a hand for a shake. She is direct, confident and witty, helping him to ease into the group. There’s a man in trench coat who also expresses his welcome and introduces accordingly. The teenager seemed distant at first, but Montagne soon discovers that she has been jotting down on her note like a diary. Apparently Montagne’s presence is a great relief to her, which somehow inspires him to get his grip together.
The three teaches him what they know to survive around here (perks):
Head-on from Jane Romero - While standing in a locker for 3 seconds, ‘Head On’ activates. While ‘Head On’ is activated, performing a rushed action to leave a locker stuns the killer for 3 seconds if they are standing within range. Causes the exhausted status effect for 60/50/40 seconds if the stun was successful. You do not recover from exhaustion while running. ‘Head On’ cannot be used when exhausted or when you have accrued stillness crows.
Diversion from Adam Francis - Activate-able perk. Standing within the killer's terror radius while not in a chase for 45 seconds activates ‘Diversion.’ Once ‘Diversion’ is activated, press the 'E’ while crouched and motionless to throw a pebble, which creates a distraction for the killer at a distance of 10/15/20 metres. The distraction consists of: A loud noise notification, scratch marks. ‘Diversion's’ timer resets once the ability has been activated.
Inner Strength from Nancy Wheeler - Each time you cleanse a totem, ‘Inner Strength’ activates. While ‘Inner Strength’ is activated, hiding inside a locker for 10/9/8 seconds when in the injured state or afflicted by the deep wound status effect will automatically heal you one health state. ‘Inner Strength’ does not activate if you are afflicted by the broken status effect.
Montagne is confident at teaching people what he knows, for he is renowned as a remarkable trainer. He teaches them (perks):
Use the leverage: After seeing a pallet, Montagne knows how to use it as an shield with its form intact. When the survivor is close to the pallet, use ‘E’ to swing it around and place it back upright. When the pallet hits the still or moving killer, it stuns the killer. When the pallet hits the killer in mid-attack, it stuns the killer and increases the cooldown on the killer’s basic attack. The perk itself has a cooldown of 100/80/60 seconds.
You shall not pass!: Activates when taking a protection hit for an injured survivor while facing the killer. Will be put into deep wound state instead of injured state. Grants 50/100/150% mend speed to self within 30/60/90 seconds.
After walking along the gravelly road adorned with strange thorns, the operators find a forked road. These are no ordinary soldiers, they are the military specialists with righteous hearts but stained hands; whose good deeds and sins are at equilibrium on justice's scale. Will they choose to fight against the evil and never have a moment to rest? Or succumb to higher power and rise above the mortality?
Mike Baker has been a survivor. There is no pride or arrogance in what he had to do that shaped him into a veteran. Perhaps shame and regret along the violence he walked through. He delayed death, the inevitable that could have swept his soul away from this mortal body at any moment on the battlefields. And quite often he still hears the voices of those who perished alongside of him. As he walks deeper into the fog, there’s a whisper. Then it becomes a full fledged beckoning, voices calling out for his name in the fog. Some call him by his given name, some refer to him by those titles he grew out of. Cadet, lieutenant, captain.
One particular shouts on top of all the other cacophony, “Mikey!” Thatcher remembers who used to call him in such a manner. He turns around, lips dry with momentary panic and the mood worsens when he feels the humid heat enveloping him. Drenched in sweat and blood, the tainted camo green of standard military issued gear. “Mikey,” A man calls out again, bleeding in Thatcher’s arms. They seem to be safe for now despite the constant open fires and explosions beyond the ditch, “Go. Just go.”
There’s only two of them in the makeshift ditch. Everyone is either lifelessly limp against the gravels or far too mangled to move. Thatcher knows he should go as that’s the most logical thing to do. But a thought crosses his young, fearful mind; “You can do it,” The bleeding comrade pats on Thatcher, “Just do it.” Thatcher isn’t sure if his maliciously selfish impulse is easily readable across his face. Maybe the injured man is still encouraging Thatcher to move along without a burden. What did he do all those years ago? How come this memory is so vivid and yet there’s a hole in details? Or is this an event that happened at all? Did he:
‘Carry his dying comrade?’ or ‘Leave and come back later?’
Killer!Thatcher
Thatcher hoists the man on his back, those blood drenched arms around his shoulders and legs hanging, knocking against his backside. He could have carried his comrade in a better position, but all kinds of dignity and moral values are thrown out the window as he fears for his life. How dare he use his comrade as a meat shield against the rain of bullets? The impacts drum on his back, dull thuds and pops. “It’s okay,” A dying man can’t be talking this loud and clear in midst of chaos, but Thatcher hears him, “You’ve finally chosen what you wanted to do.” A few more bullets strike them, that pierces the fresh corpse’s neck and the bone shatter. Sharp pain stings Thatcher’s nape, he stumbles onto the ground and realises this wasn’t what he did. They were mere thoughts, a speck of temptation to save his own life on battlefields. He knew this wasn’t the best idea and there was a reason to not act on them. But it’s too late now. Watching those strange thorns creeping towards him, Thatcher squints his eyes and let the prickle enter his ears.
Appearance: Every step he makes, there is a wet slop. His entire backside lacks skin, cut in the shape of a human's upper torso. The bare muscles are red and drenched, multiple holes where blood seeps out. No gas mask - the face resembles what he looks like in R6S elite skin. But there’s hardly any flesh. Hollow-looking, eyeballs gouged out while he still has the hairs on face and head. When he opens his mouth, there is a glowing vapour coming out (the shimmering end looks like a wailing face.) He still has the SAS uniform on, but some bits are ripped to reveal the camo green he wore many years ago.
Weapon - Six inch army knife (need to find a picture from official r6s)
Power: Cursed spirits
Starting amount is 4, expendable.
Takes 30 seconds to have each one regenerate.
Thatcher spits out a glowing blue orb in his hand (EMP grenade) explodes into electric zaps when thrown. The area of effect (AOE) is visible in a form of static zone, which creates a sinister electrical disturbance field.
Effect on survivors: Unable to touch generators for 30 seconds.
Effect on generators: It shuts down for 15 seconds, rendered unable to be fixed.
Add ons:
Essence of regret: Adds 3/5/7 seconds to the AOE effect.
7.62 Soviet: Bullets from the Falklands War back in 1982. Thatcher can convert these bullets in his body into extra orbs, which enables for him to generate 1/2 more ‘cursed spirits.’
Essence of remorse: When ‘cursed spirit’ hits a generator, the progression will regress by 0.1/0.15/0.2c/s.
Perks:
Whispers from the Entity - Sporadically hear the Entity's whisper when standing within a 48/40/32 metres of a survivor.
Come and pick them up (au-fanon) - When a Survivor is rescued from a hook at least 24 metres away, but isn’t healed within 15/10/5 seconds, ‘Come and pick them up’ receives a Token.
2 Tokens: Fresh Blood Stains are considerably more discernible than normal and can be tracked for 2 seconds longer than the normal
3 Tokens: Survivors suffer from the blindness (unable to read aura) status effect.
5 Tokens: Reduces the cooldown of ‘Cursed spirits’ regeneration by 10 seconds.
Put yourself first (au-fanon) - If a survivor Thatcher has been chasing for 10/7/5 seconds leads to another survivor(s,) Thatcher gains ‘undetectable’ status for 1/2/3 seconds.
Memento Mori: Thatcher leaps from the survivor’s behind to stab their backs in rapid succession. When the survivor falls and lays flat on their back, Thatcher then steps on their left hand and slices the artery open. He then stabs the knife on the survivor's neck firmly on the ground, rendering them unable to breath and move.
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Survivor!Thatcher
“I’m sorry,” Although his hands shake, Thatcher binds the man’s injury by ripping the hem of his clothes and takes the dog tag, “Try to- try to stay put and awake until we come back.” He sneaks around the ditch and finds an isolated area to climb out. Not a moment to collect himself, Thatcher sprints at full speed. Running away from the crossfire and let all the noise fade away until he can’t hear anything. His muscles begin to ache and breathes become shallow all too sudden, as if he gained at least two decades within a minute.
Upon seeing a campfire, Thatcher assumes he has finally caught up with the rest of the troop. Except these people aren’t soldiers. A couple appear to be civilians and only one seem to be wearing a beret. Upon close inspection, he seems to be from the 1st SFG. Thatcher explains what he has just experienced, to which the other veteran named Bill assures that he hasn’t heard a single gun sound ever since he walked into this strange realm. There’s a timid, bespectacled man who seems to be quite relieved to see Thatcher, while the teen with unkempt dusty blond groans about having too many old geezers in the group.
Each teach Thatcher a tip (perk) on surviving against the monster out there:
Borrowed Time from Bill Overbeck - After unhooking a survivor within the killer's terror radius, for 15 seconds, any damage taken that would put the unhooked survivor into the dying state will instead apply the deep wound status effect. The survivor has 10/15/20 seconds to mend themselves. If the unhooked survivor takes any damage while affected by deep wound or if its timer ends, the unhooked survivor is immediately put into the dying state.
Bond from Dwight Fairfield - Unlocks potential in one's aura-reading ability.
allies' aura are revealed to you when they are within a range of 20/28/36 metres.
Camaraderie from Steve Harrington - While you are on the hook in the struggle phase, ‘Camaraderie’ activates. If another survivor is within 16 metres of your hook while ‘Camaraderie’ is activated, the struggle phase timer is paused for 26/30/34 seconds.
In return, Thatcher shares what he did to save him (perks) in a pinch (which Bill and Dwight listened with great interest while Steve sighed, ‘Hope this works against that freaking naked mole rat alien.):
Stay low - Knowing how to conceal yourself in critical state can save your life. When in ‘dying state,’ press ‘E’ to commence a skill check. Good skill check will hide the survivor from killer’s eyes for 3/4/5 seconds. Great skill check will hide the survivor from killer’s eyes for 4/6/8 seconds.
Military sign - As a seasoned military mentor, Thatcher teaches a simple, brief hand signatures. When survivors are within a range of 8/14/20 metres from him, all survivors can see each others’ aura.
After walking along the gravelly road adorned with strange thorns, the operators find a forked road. These are no ordinary soldiers, they are the military specialists with righteous hearts but stained hands; whose good deeds and sins are at equilibrium on justice's scale. Will they choose to fight against the evil and never have a moment to rest? Or succumb to higher power and rise above the mortality?
What is it that James Porter truly wants? During his younger years, there were not many who could stop him. Dashed out to wherever those springy legs could carry, Smoke used to set a course through a dirty alleyway. Staggered against brick walls after being kicked out from a pub, slid on oil grease to duck under coming knives when he sold fake mollies to skinheads. He enjoyed a little chase with danger as he slipped through its gnarled fingers. Then he started to slow down a little. Perhaps out of love for those who care, or desperation to find some purpose in life. Yes, he enlisted without his parents' knowledge but not for a bad cause. Military life! It didn’t sound like a bad bargain; fight for your country and face mortal perils heads on. The rigid regulations and repetitive routines felt dull over the years, but there were people who put his unruly tendency to ‘good’ use.
They were the one who inspired him to create a masterpiece; his life’s investment, the concoction in the canisters. Potent and widespread to cover a large area, but harms allies and enemies alike. If his specialised gas mask is to malfunction, Smoke would also be bathing in the biohazard as well. See, he is still risking his own safety while doing what’s ‘righteous.’ Purging the threat doesn’t have to be all clean and glorious when there’s a way to have fun. All in a day's work to live happily with his newfound daughter.
Here comes the burning question that's been on his mind for a while. Does he still want to pursue chaos or want a more stable life with his loved ones? Let him elaborate; is it a morally conscious decision to choose what he indulges over his loved ones? Of course he wants a better life for the girl under his care, but what is left of him in the later years? Must be the immaturity, a burning desire to live wild and free. These impulses, they were easier to put under the rug before walking into this strange place. Fog that starts to resemble a familiar hue from his canister and thorns twitching on the corner of his eyes. Alien situation and bizarre atmosphere play tricks on his mind. It’s only a matter of thought at this moment.
Will he ‘continue to find joy in disarray’ or ‘learn to accept order?’
Killer!Smoke
Smoke remembers how freeing it was. To live without restraints and responsibilities. He tried to fit in, knowing humans cannot live alone by estranging themselves from the society. But there’s still some attachment that’s holding him back, all those beautiful connections he made while living under the norm. At the end of the road, there stands a woman with half of her face rotted away. Gross. She beckons him, promising the power and joy in believing himself rather than what others expect of him.
Appearance: The gas mask is off. No military uniform as his mental state has reverted himself back to those rowdy years. Black pants with three white stripes, grey sling bag, red windbreaker, white sneakers smeared with brown and dirtied mustard. Despite the apparel, the physical age is still himself in mid-thirties and the knowledge that came with it. Every holes on his face (eyes, nostrils, mouth, ears) has glowing yellow goos leaking out. He’s constantly smiling; when shining a toothy grin, teeth are off-white as if it’s infested with plaque and decay. Lips are cracked and chapped, but instead of blood there’s yellow goo. Hands have fingerless gloves on and nails are caked with dirt.
Weapon - Baseball bat with nails sticking out.
Power: Poison canisters.
Starting amount is 3, reloadable.
A canister he can throw to set up. To detonate, press ‘E.’
When a survivor walks by, it detonates to create a poisonous cloud (AOE.)
Instant exposure - deep wound (mend) state
3 seconds exposure - Injured state
5 seconds exposure - Dying state
Add ons:
Spit: Smoke adds a ‘special’ ingredient to his poison. Adds 1/1.5/2 seconds to the AOE effect duration.
Phlegm: More love to his poison. Adds potency and takes off 1 second from the time it takes for the survivors to enter injured and dying state (ie. 2 seconds and 4 seconds respectively.)
Baseball: Smoke can attach his canisters on a spare baseball from his bag. Instead of throwing his canisters, Smoke can now send the canister further away by swing it along with the ball.
Perks:
Infectious fright from Plague - Any survivors that are within the killer's terror radius while another survivor is put into the dying state by any means will yell and reveal their current location to the killer for 4/5/6 seconds.
Hex: Party at the down below (au-fanon) - Time to relive the drug-induced excitement at the club. Whenever a survivor enters the basement, they experience subdued vision and the movement, chest search, unhooking, healing speed is slowed by 10/15/20%.
Run baby, run (au-fanon) - What’s the fun in chasing if we can’t enjoy it together? Both the killer and survivor gain status changes as the killer’s bloodlust tier rises.
Survivor - Speed Bonus +0.7m/s, faster movement speed in vaulting and pulling down the pallets, enters exhausted state.
Memento Mori: Smoke swings his bat on the survivor’s head as if he wants to score for a homerun. He takes out two canisters and puts one of each into his and the survivor’s mouth. Smoke uses the handle of the bat to shove the canister further into the survivor's throat. When both of the canisters detonates inside them, thick orange liquid seeps out from the survivor's nose, eyes, ears and mouth. While Smoke himself has orange fumes seeping out around his gask mask (eye part glows with orange, fumes are breathed out from mouth part.)
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Survivor!Smoke
What the fuck is he thinking about? Of course he will choose what’s important to him at this moment rather than those irresponsibly reckless times. No use in glorifying every stupid deeds even though they are some of the best memories he has ever had. Mum, dad, his lads back at SAS and the girl who he chose to look after. Smoke is past the age of throwing all those away. If he hasn’t grown up yet, perhaps this is the time to sort that out. There is a place for James Porter to settle down.
The light irritate his eyes that had been adapted in the dark. Or is he experiencing queasiness? It’s as if he’s suffering from a hangover. Unsure of what to think about the fog, Smoke stumbles towards the group who seems to be quite puzzled upon seeing him.
The moody downer is irked by Smoke’s mannerism and mister big Yeti seems to be skeptical, but this cool looking guy with a mechanical hand shows a warm welcome. They hit off as a good friend, given how they share gallows humour!
Except from the gloomy guy, Smoke learns two perks:
Breakdown from Jeff Johansen - Any time you are unhooked or unhook yourself, the hook breaks and the killer's aura is shown to you for 4/5/6 seconds. A hook broken by ‘Breakdown’ takes 180 seconds to respawn.
Flip-flop from Ash Williams - While in the dying state, 50% of your recovery progression is converted into wiggle progression when you are picked up by the killer, up to a maximum of 40/45/50% total wiggle progression.
For some reason, there is a tingling sensation on the nape and Smoke can’t quite define what it is. Later he learned it’s a special kind of intuition called the ‘Spine Chill’ - Get notified when the killer is looking directly in your direction and standing within a range of 36 metres. While ‘Spine Chill’ is active, skill check trigger odds are increased by 10% with success zones reduced by 10%. While ‘Spine Chill’ is active, your repair, healing, sabotage, unhooking, vaulting, cleansing, exit gate opening, and chest unlocking speeds are increased by 2/4/6%.
Smoke intended to teach a few tricks to his new friend Ash, but he’s grown to like the other two (if they want to survive against those freaks.) Here are two perks from him:
Grab the momentum - A little trick Smoke learned from running around in the streets. When a survivor is near a solid vertical surface, press ‘E’ to activate a maneuver that helps to corner faster. Causes the exhausted status Effect for 60/50/40 seconds if the maneuver was successful.
Try harder, mate - Smoke still has that sassy attitude. When a killer missed the basic attack, his taunt effects the cooldown time by increasing it to 1.75/1.9/2 seconds.
After walking along the gravelly road adorned with strange thorns, the operators find a forked road. These are no ordinary soldiers, they are the military specialists with righteous hearts but stained hands; whose good deeds and sins are at equilibrium on justice's scale. Will they choose to fight against the evil and never have a moment to rest? Or succumb to higher power and rise above the mortality?
The fog is too thick to a point where her own hands aren’t visible if she doesn’t bring them up right close. And yet she continues to march forward to the unknown with her nerves on edge. All senses are functioning in high alert to react whatever that may spring towards her. Perhaps the overt wariness is wearing her down, because her steps somewhat feel heavier. Chest starts to ache and joints seem to lose their strength. “Doctor.” She hears someone from a distance. Judging by the title, Twitch is hopeful to see Mira and other Research and Development team personnels, despite the fact that non-combatants wouldn’t be out here with the Rainbow operators. “Doctor, we need your input,” A hand shoots out to grab on her shoulder, “Doctor Pichon?”
The white obscurity vanishes in an instant. In a dazed haze, Twitch scans around to figure out where she is. A big clear window at the end of an elongated table she’s sitting at, and there are men and women occupying all the seats. There is a model hovering in a form of 3D hologram in the middle; resembling an intricate imitation of a motherboard. She then finally notices their piercing gazes, sorely focusing on her facial expressions and movements.
“Let’s-” Twitch closes her eyes to stop them from blinking. What’s wrong with her voice? It sounds like she’s just woken up; coarse with bits of sting and dried up phlegms, “Let’s summarise what we’ve discussed so far.” She has no idea what came out of her mouth. Those words rolled out without a thought, as if it’s a predetermined dialogue to set this bizarre situation into motion.
“We haven’t got time for that,” This young blood seems to lack patience, but have enough courtesy to stop themselves from slamming a fist on the table, “People are dying out there.”
“But we can’t disregard the massive success,” Another one shouts over, “Who would have thought this is possible at all?”
“I have nothing but respect for Doctor Pichon to develop ‘the’ algorithm,” A person on her right side clears their throat, “Instilling empathy into an AI is a revolution. This is a discovery of a century!”
“Sure. But it’s hundred years too early. While many of our patients with minor issues benefit from her androids, the suicide rate hasn’t decreased at all. In fact,” A chart replaces the motherboard hologram. There are lists of names and a few are crossed out in red, and all of them have a common category ‘Nancy-TYPE04,’ “These are the patients who were diagnosed with long term depression. They ended themselves after sessions with the newest Nancy, and I’m starting to believe this isn’t a coincidence.”
“Outliers. Nancy-TYPE04 has saved more lives and will continue to be a valuable asset as we improve the response inputs.”
“Are you out of your mind? We cannot use patients as prototype tester materials. This is against human rights and ethics!”
“I hope you haven’t forgotten what astronomical amount of investment has been put into this project. We can’t stop now.”
“How dare you! This is what went wrong in the first place. An artificial intelligence learning ‘empathy!’ Haven’t any of you realised what it means to have a robot learning about understanding a human mind? Human behaviours? These therapy sessions have been nothing but algorithm-building trials and errors. These ‘Nancies’ are just copy and pasting whatever pattern they’ve figured out, and now they are telling the patients to find what works best to relive their mind.”
“Are you suggesting,” Twitch rises from her chair and wobbles as if her muscles haven’t been put to use for decades, “That my AI, Nancy-TYPE04 is telling the patients to choose death over life?”
“Doctor, try not to strain yourself,” She feels a support from her right, “Take it easy.”
“Yeah, listen to your right-hand man,” One of the crowd sneers at her, refusing to hide hostility, “Can’t believe I used to look up to you. I guess heroes don't shine as bright when it’s way past their prime.”
“Mind your manners! Let’s see how much you will accomplish in forty years.”
Forty years? It takes a second to check her hands, and the chill she feels at the sight of countless wrinkles and sparse age spots. She also notices a faint circle on her wrist, which darkens to show numbers in pastel toned blue. 15:09, 06/10/60. It’s hard to control her fingers, because the frantic shake isn’t due to supposed old age. Please, oh please. She manages to swipe across the clock on her skin, and here comes a calendar to specify the current year, 2060.
“Pardon my rudeness,” The hot tempered young blood softens their expressions, “But this is getting out of hand. I truly appreciate what you’ve done for us so far and I don’t doubt your ingenuity. Doctor, I really don’t think instilling empathy into an AI will benefit the human race in the long run. To have an inanimate object imitating human qualities. It challenges our integrity as human beings. And Nancy-TYPE04 is clearly abusing what it has learned.”
“But doctor, it is all part of a learning process. The models before Nancy-TYPE04 have shown their competency in military settings. So what if they weren’t built as a humanoid type? The very first model was an interactive mobile application and it proved to be a great success. You’ve worked your way to finally achieve a realistic android model and it saved lives! The majority of people are grateful for it!”
“And that somehow ignores those who died? Just call those incidents ‘unfortunate?’ Doctor, I’m truly sorry to have you shut down your own lifelong project. But this has to stop. Artificial intelligences are not meant to be programmed like this,” The names of the deceased hover above, giving Twitch an impression of being stared down by digitalised tombstones, “They cannot understand mind and soul. It’s a mockery to the human psyche.”
“You cannot throw everything away like this. Please consider what you truly envisioned, Doctor Pichon. I am here to support you. We are all here to make it possible,” There’s a gentle tight grip from her right. Not much force exerted. Fully supportive and warm, but it’s difficult being the pivot between ambition and responsibilities. Both sides weigh heavy on her heart, and yet it’s hard to add a gram, a simple ‘yes’ on either side.
This is the future Twitch has been dreaming about. The fruition of her long life pursuit in science and technology. There are those who support her cause, and even the opposing party show great respect despite the failure. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for raising the issue. As the head researcher of this project, I have a responsibility to amend the error. We shall arrange a global recall to collect all of Nancy-TYPE04 and-”
Will she terminate or improve the AI?
Killer!Twitch
“-replace the motherboards with an improved programming. It’s too late to stop here when we’ve come so far. Please organise a financial compensation to the families of the dead.” Half of the room bustles with a nod and satisfied smile while the other sighs in disbelief. No way she will give up on the ambition of her lifetime when she might be the only one who can make this right. Surely there might be others who are more capable than her, but the idea itself belongs to no one other than her.
A strong gust forces her to blink. When she takes a peak again, the fog has returned and so has her youth. The road full of thorns instead of an office room. She stands alone, shaken with what decision crossed her mind and the selfish possessiveness. How dare she turn blind eyes on those poor victims who died because of her creation? The grand speech was a mere excuse to cover up the shame, when she didn’t have a concrete solution. Unless she can figure something out, now that she is back in present.
“Oh, look at here,” She jumps at the maniacal laughter, “Am I glad to have another doctor on board! It’s been a tiresome era, being the only intellectual among these ‘interesting’ bunch.”
“Hello?” Twitch wishes for her rifles, but any kind of firearms are missing for some mysterious reasons. Craving a human contact, she rushes towards the man but freezes on the spot. This man is rather tall, almost on par with Sledge, and yet it’s not his stature that’s chilling her blood to bones. A strange frame is covering the entirety of his face, with its wires digging into the eyelids and mouths; skins are outstretched to keep the eyeballs and teeth uncovered. Is he writhing in pain? Choked with unimaginable agony? Although it’s hard to tell, Twitch can see a sense of glee plastered on this man as he is already a few steps closer.
“What wonderful future you have ahead. Truly marvelous. I believe we’ve something in common, young lady. A natural hunger for knowledge!” He extends a hand, “Herman Carter, at your service.”
“Nice to meet you.” She steps back and shines a polite grin. To hell with the idea of accepting a handshake from this freakish stranger. Her hairs stand from staring back at those bulging whtie iris .
“Don’t be shy!” He lunges forward with an inhumane speed to snatch her hand. The moment their skin makes contact, a strong current flows from his arms to hers; electrocuted on the spot, Twitch convulses into violent spasm and falters. He keeps the grip until she is limp, then pulls her by the hand to hoist on his shoulder. Her shock drone falls from the holster, and he picks it up to check its contents, “You’ve got the right tool! Zaps and needles. What I would do to make you my assistant!” The thorns writhe and rile up, seemingly ready to engulf Herman, “I jest! Can’t a man have fun? She will know what to do once we give her a little tweak. Have patience.” And he walks into the darkness, to meet the omniscient being of this universe and let her welcome their new doctor.
Appearance: Brown hair with streaks of white, which is neatly tied in a bun. Her face is clean, natural wrinkles suggest how graciously she aged. White coat, buttoned shirt, with navy necktie, black suit pants and loafers. It’s an attire she wears as her future self, appearing like your everyday average looking old lady at a professional white collar career. Smiling fondly when standing still and occasionally watching the surroundings with slitted gaze. Then when she starts to move, there is a little delay. Unnatural twitching with the way her limbs extend than a normal human should. Taking a step makes her foot, knee and groin detach from each other. Stretching an arm has the same effect, making her hand, forearm, elbow and shoulder look like they are cut clean. But all of these body parts don’t fall. They are connected by myriads of wires, as replacement for the nerves in her entire body. She feels no pain. Is this Twitch herself? Or a different being? Regardless, she is determined to learn about human brains and behaviours for a better cause.
Weapon - Needle Hand (She whips her right arm to extend. The tip of her fingertips reveal needles, quickly poking the survivor with her electricity.)
Power: Prototype chips.
Starting amount is 4, unable to self-regenerate the amount, but she can pick them up when the survivor(s) take them off.
Twitch stretches her left arm to reveal a small chip. When it hits the survivor, it’s ingrained in their head.
When the survivor is inflicted with one ‘prototype chip,’ they are inflicted with the first tier of ‘Chip’ (Chip I.) Default behaviour - forced to enter a sporadic seizure in intervals of 30 seconds. Triggers skill check to escape the seizure. The ‘prototype chip’ can be taken out by another survivor and is left on the spot of where it’s removed. Injures the afflicted survivor removal.
When the survivor is inflicted with two prototype chips, they are inflicted with the first tier of ‘Chip’ (Chip II.) Default behaviour - attacks 1 survivor within the radius of 4 metres in intervals of 30 seconds. The two ‘prototype chips’ can be taken out by purposefully failing a skill check on generator repairing or healing. Injures the afflicted survivor upon removal.
Add ons:
Code Empathy: To what extent can humans be selfless for one another? Removes the requirement of failing a skill check on generator reparation. Instead, the survivor needs to fail 2 skill checks while healing.
Code Apathy: How will a person prove against their incompetence? Removes the requirement of failing a skill check on healing. Instead, the survivor needs to fail 2 skill checks while repairing a generator.
DUMMY data: She needs a specimen. When a survivor is still on Chip II after all generators are repaired, they cannot leave the trial ground for 15/30/45 seconds.
Perks:
Overcharge from Doctor (Herman Carter) - Overcharge a generator by performing the damage generator action. The next survivor interacting with that generator is faced with a tremendously difficult skill check. Failing the skill check results in an additional 3/4/5 % loss of progress. Succeeding the skill check grants no progress, but prevents the generator explosion.
Study case (au-fanon) - The killer becomes obsessed with one survivor. When the killer observes the survivor performing certain actions, they gain a token.
Repairing generator (need to watch for 3 seconds) - 1 Tokens: terror radius reduced to 24 metres.
Healing (need to watch for 3 seconds) - 2 Tokens: 3% Haste for 20 seconds
Vaulting and pulling down a pallet (need to witness and register on the spot) - 4 Tokens: Gain the status ‘undetectable.’
Chest unlocking or sabotaging or cleansing (need to watch for 2 seconds) - 5 Tokens: Unlocks potential in one's aura-reading ability. The killer can see its obsession’s aura within 12 metres. 100% more Bloodpoints for actions in the Deviousness Category.
Pose no threat (au-fanon) - When the killer causes a survivor to be in a dying state, the survivor gains two effects. One is a faster rate of healing from dying state to injured state. Two is Haemorrhage during an injured state.
Memento Mori: Twitch leaps towards the survivor and pushes four taser needles through their nostrils to reach their brain. She lunges forward to observe the survivor’s face up close while sending electricity through the wire. The survivor suffers from electrocution, rendered flopping on the ground like fish out of water until they die.
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Survivor!Twitch
“-pull out the motherboards. We need to start from the scratch,” The pain is real to announce such decision. Somewhat akin to a parent killing her own child, but she mustn’t be confused of the real priority here. What is the motivation behind this passion project? To benefit those who are suffering from inner demons and help more people than one person can. But Nancy TYPE-04 failed to do so. There’s no use for greater cause if it’s built upon blood, “Let’s terminate the current AI model.”
She hears a cheer and claps. Some seem to be disappointed but soon agrees with her decision. Look how easy it is to topple a tower she built over the years, and yet there’s no fear within her. The support she’s receiving, and accumulated knowledge will be act as a solid ground for her to stand on.
A gentle breeze caresses her cheek, brushing on everything around. Tables, people, hologram and her wrinkles. They are shredded away into grains and now she stands alone, back in 2020. A lone light shines from distance, which leads her to three people who give her bewildered stare. They seem to be relieved to see her in military gear, but soon sees the wet patches under the balaclava.
This girl looks no older than a college student, but she offers her tissue to dry Twitch’s tears. She sings like a nightingale and helps to set the calm mood in. The other girl takes interest in the shock drone and asks if they can use it against the monstrous beings out there. When Twitch explains that it only recharges through USB port, she sigh but nods as if it’s an expected answer. Then there’s this guy with metal prosthetics as a hand. He listened to Twitch’s hallucinations and commended on her decision, and how some choices that seems good at times won’t guarantee the best outcome.
The three teach Twitch perks:
Dance With Me from Kate Denson: When performing a fast vault or leaving a Locker in a sprint, you leave no Scratch Marks for 3 seconds. Dance With Me has a cool-down of 60/50/40 seconds.
Technician from Feng Min: The hearing distance of noises caused by your repairs is reduced by 8 metres. On a failed repair skill check, the following effects happen: The generator explosion will be prevented, the generator loses repair progress as usual. An additional Regression penalty of 5/4/3% is applied.
Flip-Flop from Ash Williams: While in the Dying State, 50% of your recovery progression is converted into wiggle progression when you are picked up by the killer, up to a maximum of 40/45/50% total wiggle progression.
Twitch is eager to share her knowledge (perks) with these generous strangers:
Trigger sting: Twitch can pull out taser wires from the shock drones. When there is a generator near, she can set up a wire around it within 2 metres. To trigger the trap, the generator must be repaired at least 50/30/10%. The killer will be stunned when stepping into the trap.
Hold my hand: There’s no better way to show empathy other than a simple hand holding. When Twitch unhooks a survivor, both of Twitch and unhooked survivor be granted a speed burst.
