Number One Fan - Trickster x Reader

XXII

It must have been at least three days since Ji-Woon locked you away in this bedroom. You knew where you were, how you got here, and everything in between. They hadn't even bothered to knock you out or hide you from the others. All the familiar killers that had sunk a blade into your skin at one point or another had watched your body get carried straight through their camp.

You were escorted by, what you assumed to be, the center. There was indeed a fire pit, yet it was nothing but a cobblestone cylinder, crumbling with age. Inside sat heavily burned coals and debris, suggesting a flame had once burned brightly. Instead, only a cold air ghosted.

The pit had been encircled by something you could only liken to medieval stadium seating; Cracked stone slabs jutting from the earth. No matter where a killer sat, they could lay eyes upon the starved pile of wood and coal.

Beyond that was an enormous, decrepit mansion. Its wood was full of holes and covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. Once inside, there was a grand chandelier hung from soaring ceilings. Its color was a musty golden and none of the lights worked. You were half afraid the thing would break loose and crush you all at once.

If only.

The Legion and Ji-Woon had carted you up a flight of stairs, Frank sporting his signature white mask yet again. You vaguely remembered him complaining of back pain before you were carried down a stately and imposing hallway. Beneath, the killer's shoes clacked against black and white checkered tile. Several bits of the flooring were shattered and scattered all about.

Soon, you approached a large, dark oak door. Wrought iron decorated the surface and a few of Ji-Woon's neon daggers were stuck inside.

It was here Legion bid you both farewell, disappearing down the gaping halls. You were pulled into what you assumed to be Trickster's bedroom and locked away without another word.

Periodically, you could hear some of the familiar killers having conversation right outside the door. Once you heard Trapper grumbling to himself and another time it was Wraith cackling along with the Nurse. You only knew them by their killer names but you were sure they had actual identities.

By the second night, you were growing weary. Exhaustion weighted on your shoulders like lead. Eventually, you gave up and settled into the Trickster's mattress for a restless sleep. The sleek, royal purple sheets reeked of an odd smelling cologne and old blood; however, they were made of the softest silk you'd ever felt in your life. An enormous duvet in a complimenting shade of purple swallowed your body in a comforting nest of warmth. Despite the circumstances, you were able to drift off rather easily.

Though, the constant slamming of your heart against your ribcage was impossible to ignore. That was the Entity's gift to all survivors, a signal that a killer was nearby.

Of course one was nearby! You were smack in the middle of their goddam camp!

You were going to lose your mind if you stayed here any longer.

Before you could even consider getting out of bed, the door slammed open. It collided with the wall rather harshly, the sound bringing a pounding pain into your head.

Ji-Woon loomed in the doorway, his palm still flat on the wooden surface. A dark scowl twisted on his features as he stormed into the room, kicking the door shut behind him with a freshly bloodied boot.

You dare not utter a word, instead clutching the sheets and pulling them close to your chest. A single eye watched him closely as he stomped over to the edge of the bed.

Sighing loudly, he plopped his butt on the mattress and began wrenching his shoes off. Throwing one clear across the room, he began angrily untying the other. You shrunk away from the sour aura that radiated off him.