Honey-Comb [A Dead by Daylight Fic]

Chapter 3

"Wait up."

It wasn't typically well advised to chase after murderers, but in the moment, out of all the things Honey had, a murderer was the most comforting beneath the veil shadow of a Lovecraftian wet dream.

"Hold on, you can't just point out a goddamn world spider and then just bounce like it's nothing!" It took several steps to match his one, occasionally skipping along to catch up in his stride. Against better judgement, which was just about everything Honey had done up until now, she yanked at the man's pocket in a futile effort to get him to pause.

The Trapper whirled about with such hatred, those dark and beady eyeholes fixated on her. Her stomach dropped about fifteen feet and threw up in itself, but she managed to keep her jaw set and eyes met.

"What's really going on here?" she asked.

The intensity in her eyes was astounding, so small and yet so serious, he almost fell for that alone, reminding himself not to. She had yet to prove worth, and he would not allow himself to sink with her into that void simply because the yellow of her eyes reminded him so much of angry hornets.

He considered how he might explain the nature of this world mirrored on hers, how that looming creature relished their anguish and adjured their slaughter. He considered in a solemn silence, all of these things -while an impatient woman glared up at him from nearly two feet below him - and said nothing instead.

"Oh, right, silent killer thing, I respect that," said Honey tapping a finger to her pursed lips in thought, "how about, I'll say something and you just...nod if I'm right?"

He rolled his eyes behind the mask.

"You go around murder-facing people to appease an angry spider god."

Surprisingly accurate. He didn't nod, not because he wished to lead her astray, but because he thought the game itself was entirely stupid. If she wanted to know, it was better to be shown.

"Alright. Hmmm. The spider thing is a result of a ritual gone wrong and you're murdering the people involved?"

Not even close that time.

"Spider thing is actually a leftover Halloween light decoration and you're fucking with me before you kill me? Hey you gotta play you know. Were any of those close?"

There was weight in his pause this time, like he might speak, and then she heard it, the creak and crack of all those appendages above her, the rustle of thousands of tiny spines as the creature moved within the clouds. The fog deepened, hiding the ground from their sight and with it came a new presence.

The Trapper looked back upon his estate and then down. The trial was beginning.

He held a finger up to the mouth of his mask, signaling her 'quiet.' Then pointed his index and middle finger to the eyeholes, 'watch.'

He shoved the flat of his cleaver against Honey's chest and stomach, eliciting an "oof" from her. She accepted the blade with visible confusion as the Trapper trundled off towards a shadowed red locker. He yanked it open with such force she was surprised the door didn't come straight off its hinges. With some consideration he inspected its contents and then pulled out a new and somehow more jagged looking blade.

The door shut with a whine. The Trapper didn't bother to offer her a second glance, but it was easy enough to determine that should she be watching him, then she must be following him. So Honey scurried along in his shadow.

It was strange, looking out at the estate, she knew she'd never leave it. Something inside her had already begun to understand that. Nothing like fear, just a quiet knowing. And that should have scared her, only, feeling the grip of the blade within her hands brought comfort in ways a murderer's weapon shouldn't.

Her great grandfather would be balked to know she'd accepted such an austere piece. But he was so many generations dead and she had yet to meet his ghost.

"I'm Honey by the way," she said to his back, "Honey McKeever."