Yan! Wttg 1-2/Dead Signal/Scrutinized x fem!reader
Where you wake up on December 6th—the day of your birthday—in a life that isn’t yours, you quickly realize that you’re trapped inside a game you used to play as a teenager, or rather, several games. You have no idea how all the characters from various Reflect Studios games are here with you. After learning that each time they kill you, you wake up again on December 6th, they don’t seem to remember, but you do. Surviving should be achievable if they keep forgetting, shouldn’t it?
Tw: heavy mentions of violence/death
“Hello?” Adam's voice made flashes of memories rush through your mind—every time you had watched gameplays or played the game yourself. Was this some kind of very elaborate joke? No.
This had to be a lucid dream. It explained why you had consciousness and why everything felt so real, yet a video game character was speaking to you. A million thoughts passed through your mind before you recomposed yourself.
“Uh… yes, yes—hi… um…” Your cheeks tinted pink from pure embarrassment and anxiety. “Why did you call me?” you asked, trying to play off your shyness.
“…We talked about this yesterday,” he said seriously. “You seem surprised to hear me.”
“Well, I don’t usually dream about you—or Welcome to the Game at all,” you admitted. After all, who cared? This was your dream. You were hoping to at least see them up close.
“Excuse me?” He sounded almost confused.
“Oh right, people in dreams always act weird when you mention it’s a dream, right?” you said with a little “oooh,” as if you had just figured it out.
“What are you on about—” he started. “Did you take drugs?”
You gasped, almost offended. “Of course not! Ugh, what a weird dream this is… Of all video games, it had to be this one? It should’ve been Resident Evil! Oh, to see Leon up close…” you sighed dreamily.
Then you remembered Dead Signal and Scrutinized. Don’t those games happen at the same time as Welcome to the Game?
“Will I see the rest at least…?” you muttered, mostly to yourself.
“The rest? What are you talking about—?”
“Oh well, you know—Noir, Lucas, Ronald-I wonder how his face looks like, maybe even Tanner! God, I had such a huge crush during high school. Umm… I don’t really know how lucid dreams work, but you all should appear if I think hard enough about it, right?”
The line went quiet on the other side.
Adam stayed silent for a moment, undecided about how to handle you.
“You’re speaking in riddles,” he finally said, his voice calm but edged with suspicion. “Start making sense.”
You blinked at the phone, confused by how serious he sounded. Dreams were usually weird, sure—but this level of commitment to the bit was impressive.
“I mean… characters,” you repeated slowly, as if explaining something obvious. “From the games. Welcome to the Game, Dead Signal, Scrutinized… you know.”
The silence on the other end stretched again, heavier this time.
“Yeah?” you said. “The ones Reflect Studios made. You’re like—kind of the big scary boss guy who runs Noir. Tanner does the… you know… thing, Ronald is a hacker, and—”
The sharp command cut through your rambling.
Adam leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing at the wall in front of him. His fingers tapped slowly against the desk, once… twice… three times.
“You’re telling me,” he said carefully, “that you believe I am a… character… from a video game.”
“Yeah,” you replied without hesitation. “I mean, it’s a dream, so it checks out.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
Somewhere in the background of the call, a chair creaked.
“…And what exactly do these ‘games’ say about me?” Adam asked.
You perked up immediately, completely missing the dangerous undertone in his voice.
“Oh! A lot actually. Like, you run the whole operation and make people play those messed-up games on the deep web. There’s the Red Room stuff and—”
You stopped mid-sentence.
“…Wait.” A small frown formed on your face. “Huh. That’s weird.”
“What is?” Adam asked quietly.
“It’s weird how realistic this dream is, but shouldn’t what I want happen? I want to see you face to face, but I’m not in control of this stupid lucid dream.”
Adam didn’t answer right away.
On the other side of the line, he leaned back in his chair, studying the phone as if it might somehow reveal your face to him.
“You want to see me,” he repeated slowly.
“Well… yeah?” you said awkwardly. “I mean, it’s my dream, right? Shouldn’t I be able to control something at least?”
Your fingers tapped nervously against your desk.
“This is honestly such a bad lucid dream,” you continued complaining. “Everything feels real but I can’t even spawn the characters I want to see.”
“Spawn,” he repeated flatly.
“Yeah. Like—make them appear?” you explained. “Isn’t that how lucid dreams work?”
He stayed silent for a moment.
“So,” he said carefully, “you want to see me… in person.”
“Yeah,” you admitted without thinking. “Face to face. It would make the dream cooler.”
A quiet hum came from the other side of the line as Adam seemed to consider something.
“You’re saying,” he continued slowly, “that this is all happening inside your head.”
“Obviously,” you replied. “Where else would it be happening?”
Then Adam spoke again, his voice calmer now—almost thoughtful.
“…If this is truly a dream,” he said, “then it shouldn’t be a problem for us to meet.”
You brightened immediately.
“Right? That’s what I’m saying!”
Your excitement made him almost smile.
“Tell me about this video game. When did you play it?”
“Well… a few years ago, I believe. The creator was going to release another one soon.”
“Yeah. They’re scary as hell, but that’s what made them great. I can’t even count how many times I got a game over from the Breather across all of them—goddammit…”
“The… Breather?” he repeated slowly.
“Yeah,” you said with a groan. “That dude traumatized me. I swear he shows up at the worst possible times. One second you’re chilling on the computer, the next—boom—he’s breaking in, and you’re dead.” You got up from the computer and grabbed the phone, talking while walking around the livingroom.
Adam leaned forward slightly, his interest sharpening. “And this happens often?”
“Oh, all the time,” you complained. “Especially if you’re not paying attention to the sounds. Like the footsteps, the breathing, the door stuff… you have to hide or lock things or you’re basically screwed.”
“You seem very knowledgeable about these… mechanics,” Adam said.
“Well yeah, I played the games,” you replied matter-of-factly. “You kinda have to learn the patterns if you don’t want to keep dying.”
Adam’s fingers slowly interlocked on the desk. “Interesting.”
You kept talking, completely unaware of the tension growing on the other side of the call.
“And then there’s the Noir guys,” you added. “They’re the real problem. How many times I forgot the flashlight and to check around for them—”
You stopped mid-sentence.
“Why am I explaining the plot of the game to a character from the game?” you muttered.
A faint smile finally touched Adam’s lips.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “That is a very good question.”
“Of course,” Adam replied smoothly.
Then, after a moment, he asked:
“In this… game of yours… what happens to the people who know too much?”
“Well, a journalist named Amelia and the guy from the Welcome to the Game 1 DLC knew, and they got kidnapped. Amelia is literally the plotline of Welcome to the Game 2 that the players have to save… but Amelia does die in the true ending…”
Adam didn’t respond immediately.
The faint sound of a chair shifting echoed through the phone before his voice returned, quieter now.
“Yeah,” you said with a small shrug he couldn’t see. “Pretty brutal too. I remember being so mad when I watched the true ending. Like, what was the point of saving her if she was just going to—”
You cut yourself off mid-rant.
“What is it?” Adam asked calmly.
“It’s just weird,” you murmured. “Talking about the plot with you here feels like explaining a movie to the villain.”
Adam’s fingers slowly tapped against his desk again.
“And in this story,” he said carefully, “what role do I play?”
“Oh, you?” you said casually. “You’re like the mastermind behind everything. Noir, the games, the red rooms, the deep web stuff… all of it.”
“You’re basically the big bad,” you finished.
Another long pause stretched between you.
You sat back down in front of the computer and leaned back in your chair, twirling a strand of hair absentmindedly.
“But hey, it’s not like you’re real,” you added lightly. “So don’t take it personally.”
Adam’s lips curved into the faintest smile.
His tone was smooth again, composed—but his mind was moving quickly now.
Because if what you were saying was true…
Then you knew things that no outsider should ever know.
As you spoke, he made sure to record the conversation for later. You were the strangest woman he had ever talked to. He knew you—yesterday you had acted normal. You hadn’t known or said anything about the things you were babbling about today. Hell, even your personality was different.
Could you be… telling the truth?
No. That was impossible. He was a real person, living a real life. You were just crazy and had somehow figured out pieces of all this, then filled the gaps by inventing some video game in your head.
Still, Adam quietly texted Myra while continuing the conversation with you.
“And tell me,” Adam continued, his voice thoughtful, “in this game… how does it end?”
“Well, you always win,” you replied casually. “That’s like the reason Reflect Studios keeps making games about it.”
“And the fandom is pretty loyal too.”
“Yeah—fans of the games,” you explained. “People even ship themselves with some of the characters.”.
There was a brief pause on Adam’s end.
“Ship themselves,” he repeated slowly, as if testing the phrase.
“Yeah,” you said, completely unfazed. “Like romantically. You’d be surprised how many people are obsessed with Noir or Lucas. Or Tanner—actually Tanner has a lot of fans, I think.”
Adam’s gaze lowered slightly.
“…Tanner,” he echoed again.
“Yeah,” you continued. “People like the dangerous ones, I guess. It’s the whole ‘mysterious killer with a soft spot’ trope.”
Adam didn’t respond immediately.
On his screen, Myra’s reply finally came through.
"We're there. We'll enter when you say."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“…Interesting,” he said quietly.
“Nothing,” he replied smoothly, already locking the phone screen.
You hummed, still thinking out loud.
“Anyway, the endings are usually pretty simple. You either survive and escape, or you mess up and get caught by Noir. Sometimes there are secret endings depending on what you do.”
Adam leaned back in his chair again.
“And you’ve… seen all of these outcomes?”
“Most of them,” you said. “I used to replay them a lot when I was younger.”
A faint silence followed.
“I was going to use you for a game today, actually,” Adam said calmly. "But the conversation just kept going."
“Yeah,” he replied. “One of your hacker friends from that little group you work for. Get them as leverage, act as if I found a red room stream where they were in danger and make you play to save them.”
“But you already know how this works,” he continued, “An outcome I’d never think of.”
“Oh, that would’ve been a cool dream,” you said.
“Yes, indeed,” Adam replied calmly. “Anyway, our time together has to end.”
“Aww, really? Well… I guess I’ll wake up soon then.”
“…Sure thing,” he said. After a brief pause, his voice lowered slightly. “You are endearing, really. The most interesting conversation I’ve had in a while.”
“It was nice getting to know you,” he continued, “but unfortunately, your unawareness will end you. Goodbye.”
The lights in your apartment suddenly shut off.
“Huh? That’s… scary…” you muttered, your heartbeat spiking. “Okay—maybe I’ll wake up now?”
Silence. No change. No reset. No “end scene.”
“…Hello?” you called out hesitantly.
You moved through your apartment quickly, anxiety creeping in. When you reached the light switch and flicked it on again, the sudden brightness should’ve comforted you.
Because someone was standing behind you.
“…Patrick,” you whispered.
For a split second, he froze. Like he wasn’t supposed to be seen here.
Your instinct kicked in and you stepped back, raising your hands. “Okay—okay, this is just a lucid dream, I can control this, I can—”
Your words cut off instantly. Pain shot through your shoulders as his grip tightened, forcing you to realize something horrifyingly wrong. This wasn’t fading. This wasn’t soft. This wasn’t a dream.
“No—stop—” you gasped, panic rising. “This isn’t—this isn’t how dreams work—!”
You tried to pull away, but he shoved you back, and the impact stunned you. Your thoughts scrambled, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.
Your nose hit sharply against his fist, and warm blood immediately poured from your nose, a sickening crack made you aware that he had broken your nose, making your vision blur and your breathing turn uneven.
“This is a dream,” you told yourself desperately. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up—”
The world stayed painfully real.
A second presence emerged.
A masked figure. Female Noir.
You barely had time to process her before she was already in motion, silent and precise, closing the distance with a hammer, heavy in her hands.
Your mind tried to reject it. Tried to force a reset. Tried to wake itself up.
When you dropped to the ground, the last thing you saw was the hammer going straight for your skull, immense pain followed after your skull cracked for a second, before everything turned black, your body slumping on the floorboards as thick blood painted the wood red.
The blaring sound of the alarm you didn’t remember setting jolted you awake—wait, awake again?
You rushed to silence it, then checked the date. 9:00 a.m. December 6th.
You died in a dream? That wasn’t supposed to be possible. But if it had been a dream, why were you here again?
Your breath turned shallow. You threw the blanket off and stumbled out of bed. The apartment looked exactly the same—too familiar, too unchanged.
Nausea hit you hard. You ran to the bathroom and collapsed in front of the toilet, vomiting as your hands shook.
When you finally lifted your head and turned toward the sink, your reflection caught your attention.
But it didn’t feel like yours again.
The face in the mirror—your face—looked slightly off. The mole. The face you looked at previously that was yours yet slightly off.
“No…” you whispered. “No, no, no…”
You turned the faucet on, gripping the edge of the sink. Your reflection followed every movement perfectly, but there was a delay in how you felt about it, like your brain couldn’t fully sync with what you were seeing.
Your mind scrambled for an explanation.
Isekai? Reincarnation? A game?
That stuff doesn’t happen in real life… right?
If your theory was correct, it would explain why you looked different, why Adam seemed to know you, and why he said he had spoken to you before.
Were you inside the video game somehow?
That thought alone made your stomach twist.
First, you needed answers.
First of all—you had to look through your stuff to understand who you even were here.
Before Adam called you again.
𝑀𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑖 "𝑅𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑖𝑒."
