Honey-Comb [A Dead by Daylight Fic]

Chapter 7

Honey had worked for three years with a local business as a secretary, taking calls, scheduling meetings, going for coffee runs. This was a lot like that, because she had also lied profusely on her resume. She wasn't bad at her job, not at all, but she certainly wasn't proficient in Excel like she had said she was. Nearly three solid years of hard Google searching and reverse engineering premade spreadsheets until it all came crashing down on her when the boss finally decided he wanted to be a part of it all.

"Show me," is all it took for what fleeting memories she had of index matching and concatenate functions to go straight out the window.

The same was to be said with the sheer balls of a fraudulent killer. It all sounded good - right up until the Trapper surrendered the murder of an "innocent" to Honey.

"Oh boy," said Honey as if she were just so overwhelmed with the honor, "you want me to...uh...do the honors?" She chuckled a nervous laugh which the Trapper did not buy.

He gave a jerk of his chin to goad her on.

Honey cringed and looked down. The woman sat in a crumpled heap, still clutching her leg which, by the amount of dirt, gravel, and rust was definitely infected. And if not, was at least very gross.

"Oh boy," she repeated, "now you're making this weird for me," she said to the Trapper. "I usually don't kill people with an audience, kind of goes against the whole aesthetic." She air quoted awkwardly, still holding the knife inbetween two fingers. "Look at guys like Myers, it's all about the mystery, the illusion of something greater than what it really is."

"W-what?" confusion seemed to overpower the girl's pain and fear, temporarily stalling tears as she listened to her would be killer rant.

"Right? I mean the scary part is no one ever sees him do it," she looked to the injured woman for validation.

She nodded nervously.

Honey continued, "he's like a shadow or a wolf. A super evil murder shadow-wolf. In the words of Dr. Alan Grant, 'he doesn't want to be fed, he wants to hunt." She looked now to the Trapper, "you can't just suppress 56 years of gut instinct...and murder."

The Trapper, less confused and more annoyed, replied with a deep and frustrated sigh. Confidence backed accusation in light of her rant, sure now she was the Entity's mistake upon these grounds, a great and hefty weight tied about his ankle.

He wasn't about to let her, let him, sink.
He'd do it himself.

Murder that was.

His cleaver was brutal and unkind as it cut into the trapped woman's flesh, over and over showering macabre ribbons of red over the ground.

She screamed, she fought, she died.
Honey watched it all, mouth agape.

The Trapper, wiping the blade on his thigh, next grabbed up Honey by the back of her coat once more. Without a word, which he didn't need, he dragged her all the way to one of those hooks and hung her up like a piece of laundry.

Comically she hung by her oversized coat.

Though he hadn't injured her, there was a great desire in those eyes behind the mask. "Stay here," he growled, "I'll deal with you after the trial." He turned his back to her and trundled off, offering a parting statement among the whispers of the fog. She couldn't quite hear him, but she was sure she heard Myers's name.