BAD END 𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵
What: A Story About ENA the Worker V Reader
Who: ENA the Worker from ENA Dream BBQ (By Joel G)
How Much: ~1100 words, ~6 mins
Credits: Image Banner -> Joel G
Warnings: Horror, Language, Heavy Violence, Murder, Reader is Twisted
A/N: X Readers. You’ve read them, you know them. There’s a lot of love and contentment and healing all around. But what about the other side of passion, one which can run just as deep? What about HATE?
A/N #2: As a clown I'm obligated to dip into horror once in a while.
Despite the warnings of the Shaman, it looked like ENA was going to be taking a shortcut to get to the Bathroom. “Now, listen well… The route that you wish to take is a fool’s errand. Not even a seasoned omnimancer could make it through as you are now. Banish the thought, ENA!” “All due respect sir, I’m not an omnimancer. I’m employed, and this route will help me get my job done faster.” “Oh! My mistake. Very well, continue on. Simply beware!” What an odd fellow that Shaman was. She’d already had to deal with all manner of strange characters throughout the Uncanny Streets; how hard could Dreary Leery Avenue be?
The route was much more ominous than anticipated. If dirt roads, dark valleys and silence were the warning’s set up, the scattered remains and broken limbs of mannequins spread throughout the path were the punchline. ENA continued on, undeterred—if she kept this pace up, she’d finish with half of the estimated time. Maybe she’d even get a raise (if she got paid, that was). It was about a few minutes in—or hours, it was hard to tell—when ENA found a broken down, rustic shack with garish wallpaper covering the outside. The windows were covered in iron bars and there was no door to speak of, just a yawning gateway into the darkness which lay within. A dark deja-vu was emitting from the shack. She knew that she should just continue on with her job… but what if there was another puppy in here? She really had no choice but to check…
She really wished she hadn’t. Past the cabin’s doorway and around a corner is where she found it: a rusty metal crate. It took her a moment to recognize what was inside, and when she realized, she couldn’t tell if salesman or meanie or some other third party could switch in for her and begin having agency again. She felt rooted to that spot. Inside were dozens of faces of… well, her. Some were purple and gray and cyan and orange and lime. A whole spectrum of her. A headless mannequin lay slouched against the wall, tumbling over once ENA got the hint and bolted out of there. But someone was already waiting outside.
You knew that the ENA of a new story had entered your little valley, and you had been following her for an indeterminate amount of time. She walked a lot faster than the last one, and you lost track of which way she went pretty quickly. Dammit. And here you were hoping that the vermin would slow down and take a rest somewhere. This one had persistence. Stalking along ledges overlooking the shadowy valley, you gripped your face-splitting blade. It was always good to keep it close to you for when you wanted an apple without the skin, wanted to open a can or wanted to keep a trophy in honor of a chronicle you’d ended. You were surprised another was back so soon, if you were being honest—another anthology anomaly. This one looked like a girl scout or something, too. Fuck’s sake… Suddenly, an idea came to mind! If she was so far ahead of you, what if she was already at your cabin? You doubted an ENA would pass up the opportunity to inspect a new location, so you headed there with the only lead you had on her.
You were right. Call it hunter’s intuition. Small footprints, one jagged and one soft, lead into the darkness of your cabin. This was always the fun part. Skulking down the cliff face and silently creeping towards the cabin, you waited for your new visitor to emerge, and she took the bait. She came out, and running, before skidding to a stop not too far from you. She looked shell-shocked. When the blade extended, all she could get out was an “O-oh dear.”
ENA’s sides were in conflict for a moment, waves crashing together until a victor emerged dominant. You waited, looming over her and tilting your head. Finally, Meanie arrived to throw out an accusation with less confidence than she would’ve liked. “You… you killed them! Killed MEs!” You felt a frown begin to etch into your face. You gestured wildly, explaining that ENAs such as herself were vermin who degraded realms and caused chaos. You took on the job out of necessity. Nobody else seemed to care as much. Who was she to judge you if you happened to like it? ENA was silent, before Salesperson attempted to extend one last olive branch. A droning tension grew between you both. “You’ve already made dividends of plenty of MEs. S-so… Maybe we can work out a deal. You should take it. I am being serious, sir or madam… Because, if you don’t, I-I’m going to have to... let you go. So please…” Meanie was already itching for a fight, and truth be told, you were going to do the same thing regardless of what she said. What came next was inevitable. And so the chaos began.
You lunged at ENA, grabbing for just about anything you could sink a blade into. She bolted in the opposite direction, securing her hat to her head, and you gave chase. Your hatred for this blight of a creature gave you the speed to round the next corner with incredible speed, but ENA was waiting just beyond it and you were greeted with a handfan on a set course with your face. You skidded on your knees to avoid the incoming decapitation and whirled on her, knocking the fan out of her hand. Fucking die already. You attempted to follow through with your slash, which was a clumsier attempt than you intended. ENA’s clawed hand caught the blade and her pale, blocky knee winded you with an impact to the gut. You attempted to punch and kick at ENA, who was now on top of you with her claws a whirlwind, driving cuts into your arms and face and rending you. Meanie was crying. “You made me! You made me do this! I wasn’t doing anything and you made me!” Before long you had been reduced a smear of color on the ground and ENA had settled down, still shaking from the rush of combat. She had a job to do. Turning to exit the valley, she muttered one last thing: “Should have taken the deal.” Her phone rang, probably Froggy. So much for an easy shortcut. How was she going to wash this stuff out of her clothes?
A/N: It's a darkfic but reader got what was coming. Sorry, random evil hunter guy, but this one's a soldier.