The Monsters' Favorite

Drama at the Ironworks (The Trapper)

   There is always a sense of foreboding and hopelessness inside the Macmillan Estate. It's like the history of the place has stained the very nature of it. All the lives lost. All the families ruined. It all culminates into an intense grudge that blankets the Estate as a whole. You don't really like any of the realms of the Entity, but this one, the Trapper's? You hate it. It's suffocating and it makes your skin crawl. The fog is always too thick here, even with the absence of offerings to thicken it. It's too dark. Too cold. It really suits the Trapper. Void of any light, any joy, any goodness. Domineering. Just horrible. And you're fucking stuck in it.

   This trial has been a complete fucking disaster. It's only you and Jake left. The other two, Adam and Felix, got completely dominated by the Trapper before the first gen was complete. Now it's just Jake and yourself, though you've hardly seen the man all trial. You're almost certain he's still mad at you from an earlier trial... Nevertheless, you start working on a gen near the Ironworks. It's nerve wracking, considering the last three trials where you've faced the Trapper, seriously fucked up things happened. Like poor Dwight getting his head crushed by a bear trap, courtesy of the Trapper throwing him into it like he was some kind of toy that he was keen on breaking. And how he laughed at the remains of Dwight's crushed-to-a-pulp skull that ended up coated his boots and coveralls in bits of bone and greymatter. It still makes you gag whenever you think of it. You shake your head and stare intently on the machine before you. Just focus and get this over with... Move a wire here, turn that knob there, shake this doodad-

   "FUUUUUCK!!!" Jake shouts nearby. Shit! Trapped already?! You saw his aura flash briefly before you. Oh fucking fuck fuck shit- Do you go get him? Just work on the gen? If that was you, you'd want someone to help... Ah, fuck. Fuck it!

   You let go of the generator. If you're fast enough, and with a bit of luck, you can get Jake out of the trap and patch him up before the killer gets to the two of you. Or, at least, you can give him a chance to get away. Sucking in a deep breath, you sprinted in the direction of Jake's scream. Inside a maze of ruined walls, you saw him, in front of a window that was booby trapped. Damn, that's bad... He looks up at you, gritting his teeth. You jog over to him and carefully look at his leg caught in the trap's teeth. It's...not good. You try to pry it open, and it doesn't budge a bit. With the help of Jake, you both try to wrench it open. With a creak, it opens nearly halfway, then violently snaps back onto his leg, actually catching two of your fingers with it.

   He covers your mouth before you can scream. It's muffled, but still pretty loud. "Shhh shut the fuck up!" He hisses. He's pale and clearly trying to stay quiet, himself. You swallow thickly. Your fingers are broken. They have to be. They are hot and feel as though something is not in the correct place, anymore. You feel like you're gonna vomit, but you persist. It hurts like hell, but you've felt much, much worse. Sucking in a deep breath, you nod to Jake and you both prepare to open the trap once more. With all the strength you can muster, the two of you force the trap open. Yes. Finally! Jake sighs in relief and removes his leg. You remove your hand and inspect your fingers. Yep. The middle and ring finger of your right hand is bent oddly at one of the joints, and there is blood everywhere. Broken and absolutely fucked. You'll manage, somehow. Looking up from your hand, you notice he's already gone. Wow, I didn't even hear him go. What's the ru-

   "I thought I heard the squeaking of little rats over here." Oh. Fuck. The Trapper is watching you, clearly amused by his handy work. You feel the blood rush to your ears. Before you can make a run for it, he grabs you, slinging you over his shoulder like you're a sack of potatoes and not a slightly overweight person fighting for their life. Thanks a lot, Jake. You fucking prick! You fight back tears as you try desperately to struggle out of his Iron Grip. It's no use. You're gonna be hooked and there's nothing you can do about it. Gritting your teeth, you brace for the inevitable, searing pain of being impaled on a meat hook. It came far sooner than you were prepared for.