Maybe, Probably [A DBD Fanfiction]

Prologue

The fog was thick, suffocating. It made it difficult to breathe, to think. Or that could just be the stress Frank was under as he carried the survivor to the hook, dragging them away from hatch. The locker lover was limp over his shoulder, given up, as he had watched his friends die around him. 

Frank’s mercy was nonexistent after the sharp turns that he had experienced with that damn graffiti artist who’s pure existence was to piss him off. It always confused Frank of who had the last laugh with her. 

Frank just watch the Entity reach down and feast on the poor kids soul, playing with his knife was he waited to be pulled out of the stupid place and back into Ormond. The only place he could relax. 

The killers were given the place they had strong emotional connection with to reside in. Frank and his friends considered themselves lucky with their home. He had a small pang of sympathy for Herman Carter who had to live in the place were he was mistreated and abused that caused him to snap, making him who he is today. 

Frank looked at the ski lodge, seeing the lights, windows, even the walls have been installed and fixed up. It was how he rembered it, how he remembered hanging out with his friends. How they fixed it up and made it like a home away from Hell. His family. The survivors never got to see this place, only the trial version of this beautiful sight. 

He walked in, looking around the room to see Joey laying on the table and Susie was in a chair, sideways. “What the hell are you two doing?”

“Getting comfortable.” They answered in unison, Joey looked up at Frank. His mask wasn’t on and was hanging up on the wall next to Susie’s. Frank took his mask off, along with putting his hood down. 

“How was the trial?” Joey asked, sitting up. “It was stressful and frustrating, but a diamond such as me is only made under the pressure~.” Frank said with a smirk, grabbing the handle of a knife that was previously stabbed into a wall. He yanked it out and craved four tallies on one side of a four section grid. “So that makes me two kills in the lead.”

“You lie!” Joey accused, crossing his arms as Susie laughed nervously, trying her best to sink into the darkest crevices in the chair with her total of five kills. “Me?” Frank asked, his hand on his heart, “I’m offended!” 

“I don’t know what you two are bickering for, you are still ten kills below me Franky.” The honeyed voice Frank was so fond of made him turn to see a smirked Julie leaning on the door frame. She walked over, swaying her hips as she gently grabbed the knife from Frank, her fingers slowly moving down his palm as she put down three tallies in a column. “Make that thirteen, Franky.” She chuckled, making Frank roll his eyes and smile. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. Joey may throw a bucket of ice on you when you’re sleeping.” Frank felt a sharp jab in his side as Joey was finding the ceiling exceptionally interesting. Frank stifled a chuckle, probably spoiling a possible revenge plan. 

“Aren’t we uh, going to the campfire?” Susie’s meek voice piped up over the three’s conversation, causing everyone to look at her. Frank blinked before his eyes widening, making the corner of his lips curl into an involuntary smile.

“Oh uh, no. I have some business to do alone,” He hurried over and grabbed his mask, pulling his hood over his head, “I got to go give Huntress a...thing.” 

“A thing?” Julie asked, her brows narrowed in suspicion. “Ye-Yeah! A thing! Seeyouguyslater!” Frank said quickly, running out of the barrier that separated the Killer’s housing. Julie had watched him leave, her arms slowly crossed over her chest as she watched him run off. 

---

Frank walked through the forest, looking for the dimly lit fire and the occasional conversations. He knew the path by heart because he walked it every time he was out of the trial. He didn’t know why he wanted to, maybe it was because he missed the simple conversations or talking to others. 

He really grew fond of some of the survivors but knew that they would rather hook themselves than having an off and on friendship, which meant a hook through their back and the occasional obsession.  

Frank knew he found the camp where he heard the raspy voice of someone that tugged at his heart. “Oi you focking cunt! Are you stupid? Why'd you block me eh?!” It was none other than David King and boy does that last name fit this work of art. 

Frank slowly moved through the forest and peaked around a tree, putting dear old Ghostie to shame, as he listened and watched what was going on. “Gee, sorry muscles. If you weren’t so reckless and led him to my generator, you wouldn’t have gotten down!” The other heart throb, Quentin Smith. The cranky, sleep-deprived teen that would accidently fall asleep on a generator. Frank would see him, watch him sleep and felt his heart beat harder at the sight. He would just leave him be, knowing that short pervert loved fucking with him. 

Sometimes, Frank would enjoy messing with Freddy with petty things. Finding his only pillow at the waterfall, his claw hands with pink paint over them, drawing on his face with permanent sharpie. It would make his heart throb when Frank would overhear Quentin talking about his ‘dick sharpie’ masterpiece on the bitch. 

Now, the two boys he has cared for in the hellhole were now fighting. Though, David never hit him, raise his fist in the attempt, yes, but actually punch him? Not at all, he just shoved Quentin into the tree, mumbled something along the lines of never doing that again, and got into his tent. 

Frank was confused, wondering what David was doing, why the sudden change in personality. It seemed that Frank wasn’t alone as Quentin had a confused look, watching David go into his tent. Did something happen? Did he-

“Frank?” Frank jumped, turning around to see who stood behind them. He reached over and covered their mouth, panicking as he whispered, “Shhhh..” hoping to the Entity itself that his cover wasn’t blown.