Memory Logs

Compromise

11. Compromise

[ Encounter 103-3; Mount Ormond Resort. ]

When he saw the presence of another survivor on his property, the Trapper (feeling more deserving of the brutal title than ever) tensed up, fingers itching for his cleaver. Meg had been the only one to ever wander here outside of the trials, so the arrival of the woodsy boy with the green jacket was unnerving to say the least.

It was difficult to suppress the instinct to protect himself - to hurt the other. Hands clenched into fists to keep from shaking and he emerged from the large factory building, stopping a few yards short of the boy and staring at him, hoping that he was threatening enough.

And judging by the tension in the boy's body and the wariness of his gaze, the threat was loud and clear. But still he didn't leave, nor did he move another muscle; it was clear he wanted to talk, and the Trapper for the life of him couldn't imagine why.

Until he realized... Meg.

Could it be that Meg wasn't the only one starting to remember what happened in the trials? Could it be that the Entity was tired of the dynamic it had created, and was seeking to create a new kind of entertainment...? One where the survivors and the killers knew each other well, used each other's weaknesses and strengths; a way to... level the playing field.

If that was the case, this was going to be a much more dangerous game.

"Zarina remembers what you did," the boy, whose name he thought might've been Jake, finally said.

The Trapper said nothing, waiting for him to continue. "We all do, actually," Jake murmured, frowning. "We're all beginning to... remember. Everything. Every trial. And Zarina told me that you... you saved Meg. Is that right?"

Everything about the boy's posture was still wary, as if he expected pain at any moment, but there was a strange curiosity in his dark eyes. The Trapper clenched and unclenched his jaw, trying to find words; after being so long here, it had become much more difficult. As if the longer the Fog held him, the less remained of his human faculties.

Which was odd in itself. Many of the other killers, such as that annoying idiot in the black cloak, seemed to retain their human functions perfectly; while others... like the Wraith, or the Nurse... didn't even seem human at all anymore. The Trapper was stuck somewhere in the middle; not a man, but not fully beast, either.

"Why... are you..."

"... telling you?" Jake smiled bitterly. "I guess because you're the only killer that's ever crossed the line like that. Two things: first, I want to know why. What's your attachment to Meg? Do you like her or something? Second - I... may need your help."

The killer's brows furrowed more and more with each word, lip curling into a scowl. This puny runt had the nerve to ask him for help? Not only that, but he drilled him with questions that he frankly didn't know how to answer. "... Yes," he said dumbly.

Jake arched a brow. "Yes what?"

He grunted in frustration. Finally: "Meg is... important."

"Ah, I thought so," the boy replied, heaving a sigh and running a hand through his hair. He looked tired - though the Trapper supposed they all were. "That's... disgusting."

The killer stiffened. He wasn't sure why the words affected him so, considering it was the logical reaction to such a situation; he was a killer, and she was a survivor. It was disgusting to think that he cared for her, or she for him. But still the Trapper found himself tensing up, anger blooming in his chest, the urge to beat the woodland boy senseless increasing tenfold. He hadn't realized he'd let out a low, threatening growl until he saw Jake's eyes narrow on him, the survivor taking a few cautious steps back. "Listen - whatever. I don't care why you did it, but if you really do care about her, then help me. Meg... disappeared last night. Or... I don't know when; time is all screwed up here. She went for a jog, and we thought nothing of it because that's just normal for her."