Markiplier x Reader | The Promised Land

Chapter 8: Pop!

"I've lived in LA for many years now," Mark said as he gingerly checked your shoulder wound, "I know everything there is to know about it, ask me anything. Go on."

You sighed. The tensions between you two had dropped significantly since yesterday, considering you passed out from exhaustion and woke up this morning to Mark opening a can of soup. It gave you a chance to cool off and think anyways.

Mark seemed to be trying really hard not be aggressive with you, and despite being an ass yourself, you guess you could try to be less aggressive too. It was difficult, especially when neither of you trusted each other.

"Okay umm, let's see... ow!" you flinched away from Mark when you felt him rubbing cold liquid onto the wound.

"It's alright, it's just alcohol," Mark responded softly, "It's to help avoid getting an infection-"

"I know I know, I'm not stupid." you turned away, clenching your jaw while he started wrapping your shoulder back up, "How... how did you get a hold of antiseptics anyways?"

Mark didn't respond and just focused on finishing up with your shoulder. When he finished, you turned back and stared at him. Thoughtful of something to say to both challenge Mark's knowledge of LA and try to be less aggressive, you asked, "If I was to follow Route 5, heading south, which neighborhood would I arrive in first?"

Mark immediately lit up, "Castaic! Or at least, Castaic Village!" He sat back a little ways from you, "Did you... see anyone named Sean there?"

"No." you responded flatly, but upon seeing the disappointment in Mark's eyes, something struck you to tell the truth. You leaned over and sighed, staring at the ground, "He was probably the only one there who trusted me." You proceeded to tell Mark about some of the things that happened there, and how Sean had warned you about the Skull Breakers.

Mark listened with utmost focus, taking in every word you said without breaking concentration. When you finished, you both sat in silence for a long while. Mark was about to say something when you spoke, "[Y/n]."

Mark looked at you for a moment, slightly confused, "What?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "[Y/n]. That's... that's my real name."

After a moment of realization, he opened his mouth to respond, but Chica started growling.

You both immediately stood up, staring out the blasted side of the building. Your heart went into your throat when you saw the guys who had been chasing you earlier. Had they heard you two talking? Did they know you two were even here?

Mark watched them with wide eyes, and without looking away, grabbed your hand tightly. Instinctively, you pulled your backpack up and put it on. Mark did the same with his and slung his sniper rifle on his uninjured shoulder.

You both backed up and as quietly as you could, headed up the stairs further back in the room. With every step you took, you felt more and more blood drain from your face. Your heart was racing so fast, your legs were still wobbly from the run before, and you had a side ache. Chica willed [P/n] to go on, and even though they were both slow, they still managed to keep up with you and Mark.

You both ran up several flights of stairs as quietly as you could, trying your best not to echo through the building. Your knees screamed at you and threatened to buckle from underneath you with every step you took.

"Mark," you whispered between breaths as you both continued up the stairs, "I don't think I can keep this up..."

He nodded silently in return and slowed down. He had counted under his breath the amount of flights you had gone up, and by that time you both neared the seventh floor. The building groaned and the walls creaked from the breeze outside, but other than that, it was quiet.

Mark let go of your hand and started walking down a long hallway that had doorways on both sides. There were a total of eight rooms to explore. He went into the first room to the right, and you went into the left one. You explored the room, after finding nothing you came out and met Mark in the hallway, and you both continued doing this until all eight rooms had been checked.

You both sat down in the last room that had a carpet on the floor. It was soft and better than sitting on concrete and wood any day. Chica was sitting close to [P/n] and was watching her protectively, gingerly sniffing [P/n]'s paws and licking them affectionately.

You and Mark both looked at each other and he whispered, "Not the perfect time to say this, but Chica has taken a great liking to [P/n]."

You merely nodded, afraid that if you uttered a word, the whole place would crumble down.

Moments passed that felt like hours. You could hear footsteps echoing up the staircase, but for the first time in your life, you didn't feel alone.

*     *     *

Mark watched in silence as [Y/n] scooted closer to him. He was tense at first, but he realized they were actually completely entranced by the footsteps echoing up the stairs. He pulled his sniper rifle off his shoulder and winced when he tried to lift it with both hands. His injured arm shook violently and refused to hold the weight of the gun. A stabbing pain shot through, making him gasp, and it slumped the gun towards the ground. As it slipped, [Y/n] quickly caught the end with their good hand to prevent it from making any noise.

Jaw clenched at the aching in his arm, he realized what must've had happened when he fell. He looked up to [Y/n] and whispered, "I... I think my shoulder is dislocated."

[Y/n] looked at him with wide eyes, then back at the door. The footsteps had faded for a moment. One of the floors was being searched below. "Th-then fix it! Do something!" they hissed, panic at the edge of their voice, "Wh-what do you do in a situation like this?"

"I've experienced something like this before... with someone else." Mark explained, "Just relax and watch. You might need this information later on. If this doesn't work I'll need your help."

[Y/n] watched him as he laid himself down on the ground, and tried to relax his shoulder as best as he could. He stretched his arm out to the side, wincing. He lifted it up slowly over the back of his head as if he were about to scratch his back, then he stretched his arm to reach the other side, and felt his face grow hot from the pain, but suddenly, the pain stopped escalating, and he felt a small "pop."

He sat up, moved his shoulder tenderly, it wasn't as sensitive as before, and he grinned, "It worked. See?" Mark showed [Y/n] that his shoulder was perfectly normal again, minus the fact it still ached. He was then able to pick the sniper rifle up. It was heavier than he anticipated since his shoulder was still in shock, but he would manage.

He popped out a stand at the base of his gun, and got onto his stomach. He peeped his head just outside the door, taking aim and looking through his scope, "Who's ready to watch some heads get blown off?"