The Rat in the Maze (Poofless-esque)

Geometric

Sometimes you wonder why you always volunteer to be his god damned babysitter. If you left him up here, you know you would never forgive yourself, even if he did make it out alive. You think for a second about asking him for help getting out of your little rat hole in the ceiling, but the expression on his face tells you not to bother. Apparently a misunderstanding and a moment of voicing the obvious was too much for his fragile masculinity.

You study the room for a minute before you work your way over to the table and lower yourself as far as possible before dropping – loudly – down onto the rickety wood. Preston watches, as uninterested as it is possible to be toward another living creature. Despite the deep burning inside your ankles, you hurry down off of the table and follow him outside. He walks over to a private dining area along the outside of the private patio and peers cautiously through the slats of the railing, looking at the sea of police and SWAT cars below.

You sidestep around him, hoping to sit down in a weather-rotted wooden patio chair and rest for a few minutes while you ignore each other. Hopefully this siege won't last much-

The railing rushes toward you and surprisingly cold hands are at your throat, trying to shift your center of gravity toward the parking lot below.

"P-Preston?!?"

"You shouldn'ta come today, Rob. Told ya it was... a bad... idea." It feels effortless to slide over the sleek railing, and the air rushing up past you doesn't feel as warm anymore as it dries the droplets of sweat off of your face. You can hear the screams of the officers down below as someone orders them to get out of the way of your flailing body; you are a human missile. You feel a disgusting contentment at knowing that the ordeal is over. True, you might not have won, but you don't have to live through it anymore.

That's worth something, right?

If you didn't know him better, you would think he looked guilty, all the way up there by himself with his hands moving to cover his mouth.

At last, the conversation is over.

You died.

Respawn?