Fortnite: Peace Out

Chapter 1: Happy Place

The first thing Mothy noticed when he woke up was that Raz had deserted him, which was odd considering how dark it still was outside. The clock on the stunted draw beside his bed said that it was only 4am. It wouldn't even be sunrise for at least another two hours...
Mothy and Raz had another small drawer on the other side of their bed, and there was something of interest there too. It was the mask which Mothy had stupidly broken. He had broken it... for what? To bring attention to himself? To prove to himself that he could do something meaningful? It didn't matter.
The mask, once picked up, revealed something else beneath it. A note, just a note, written on a yellow sticky post-it note, left in a convenient spot for him to find it. And so, he picked it up, because what else were you supposed to do?
My love, the note began, and Raz's face popped into Mothy's mind.
My love, I fixed this mask for you with a little help from some other people... you need to be careful. We tried to be really sparing with the amount of materials we used, but it was hard. There isn't enough stuff to be used for personal things, the Scientist needs them. I love you, but I also need you to understand that we're running low on supplies at the moment. Maybe we could go out to find some supplies and we could talk, just us two, ok? I know you aren't feeling great, maybe a chat could help you. Help us.
I love you, from Raz.
"I love you too." Mothy replied, but there was nobody nearby him to hear, and the words died on the edge of his lips as they escaped into the frosty air.
Fresh air. That was what Mothy needed. And so, he slipped on his mask and trudged outside, his heels dragging against the dull, rock floor. They made small noises as he went.
Sanctuary looked so empty, almost haunted, with nobody awake to see him. Raz was awake, somewhere. Mothy would find him, but he first needed a walk by his lonesome to clear his tired brain.
The first thing said tired brain registered as Mothy stepped onto the spongy soil with his weathered boots was that it was getting brighter. Light and shadow blended together where the leaves blew slowly in the night winds. The temperature hadn't changed, though. It it had, it had gotten colder.
Mothy moved away from Sanctuary, not too far at first, but he suddenly drifted further and further away. Soon enough, the domed buildings were completely blocked from sight by the tropical trees. They seemed so out of place in the dark of night.
Mothy began to wonder if he should've bought a gun, like any gun.
There were people everywhere.
He hadn't seen any random people in a while, but they were out there.
They were somewhere...
...
Was that Mothy's ears tricking him, or had he heard footsteps over to the left? His brain told him to walk in the other direction, but he walked towards the footsteps, straining his ears for anything to point towards a threat, but why?
He would never know. The thought never came to his mind, and there was nobody there.
Raz was right. Mothy wasn't feeling great, and there was one, really obvious reason why. Plague... why did the world have to be this way? To gain back Skye, only to lose him. A trade, but at what cost? If it was up to Mothy, then he'd give himself up so that they could both live. But it was not.
He needed to walk - and he was - but he needed to walk with Raz. To talk to him about how his upset was eating away at his insides like maggots in a rotting fruit. And so, he turned back towards Sanctuary and walked.
He sped up. Why did he speed up? He didn't know, but fear was creeping into his mind. No, not fear...
It was the feeling of being watched.
The way Mothy's skin tingled slightly, the way he shivered as if a cold gust of wind had blown through the valleys into the very tissues of Mothy's heart, which pumped faster and faster with each passing second. The million pound question which couldn't be answered; could someone actually be watching Mothy?
His legs made quiet shuff, shuff noises as he sped up from a walk to a slow jog, his neck twitching this way and that, peeking into the inky black darkness for a shape, a person. Something to reassure him that he was overreacting... or something to reassure him that he was not. With the amount of strain on Mothy's mind, he would take either.
Where was Raz when you needed him?
Hell, where was anybody? Mothy couldn't be that far away from Sanctuary, and with the shadows stretching from the slowly rising sun above the horizon, someone must see him. Someone. Anyone.
What Mothy wouldn't do to see Raz's pretty eyes again. The muscles that signified strength and safety, hands gnarled with fights won in the past. He didn't lose. Random troops were just target practice to him. So where was he?
Mothy's pulse sped up.
He thought he was going to pass out, so he took a breather.
One breath...
Two...
...
There! There was the noise again! Before, Mothy couldn't discern what it was, but it was low in pitch and it rumbled aggressively, like an angry canine. Could it..? No... could it be a car engine?
Headlights lit up behind Mothy, his shadow being twisted across the gnarled tree trunks. His unrelenting pulse relented, stopping entirely for a second, his thoughts scattering as his legs began to throw him forward and a single word formulated in whatever brain cells were still standing in Mothy's skull.
Run!
And so he did just that.
Tires screeched against the grass and dirt and flora splattered backwards as Mothy ran, his legs trembling and spasming as his blood flow tried and failed to regulate itself. His veins and arteries screamed as their surface area stretched, cells pulsing through to the tune of a minigun, drumming its way through enough bullets to last the wielder a lifetime.
Sanctuary was in sight.
Mothy kept on running, wishing for the nightmare to end.
The car sounded as if it was closer.
But he couldn't mark an exact point...
He couldn't think.
He could hardly breathe.
So when the car swerved in front of Mothy, he fell backwards and landed on his back.
Something hopped out of the car. It had a spiky, off-white head and a battered beige neck and torso. His arms appeared swollen, but his legs were thin and hidden by ragged black jeans. His eyes appeared black at first, but then they glowed with a soul-like white.
"Who are you?" Mothy grunted hopelessly. The thing did not reply.
The thing then bought a plastic baton down on Mothy's head, and everything snapped to black.

***

The sun continued to rise in the sky. It illuminated the ground and woke up those sleeping, both inside and out. In a few places, gunshots started to pop out of their small metal cannons. People looped, and would come back. But this had happened before. Everything was still the same... apart from one thing.
Mothy was gone.

To be continued...