#roier got spotted so has to run distraction

[factorialsotherfandoms]

TW: imprisonment, injury

Cellbit wakes to a blindfold, and chains around his wrists. On instinct he throws his weight forwards, only to find his ankles also chained, and nothing giving way. The chains are very short, pinning him against a cold, uneven wall.

He tries again, there's a crack in one of his wrists, and maybe he should stop that.

It might be broken, he isn't sure, but the pain is sharp and the cuffs leave no room for him to check. Not that it likely matters; he can't use it anyway.

His arms are chained too close and too high to reach his face, so the blindfold is staying on...

So, what else?

Panic is not an option; it's not the first time, and it's unlikely to be the last.

What does he know? He needs to focus, take measure, work it out.

The wall at his back is uneven. Cheap, concrete bricks. Large, too. The sort of big grey ones you use to build quickly with the intent to paint over, or to use in hidden places, but these are not painted. He doesn't think. With a little twisting he can rub a thumb against it - correct, unpainted. Just bare concrete bricks. Like a shitty, cheap basement.

His thumb also catches the edge of a metal plate, probably where the chain is attached. It's sharp, unfinished - iron joins iron as his thumb bleeds.

Bleeding thumb.

Cellbit concentrates on that a second, before trying something else.

What can he smell? Blood, iron, dust and damp. It's cold - it smells colder than it feels, somehow.

Anything else? He doesn't think so.

Listening, listening... There's a water pipe nearby, he can hear that. Someone elsewhere seems to be running a tap. Probably a hot one? He thinks he can hear a boiler too, though it's a little indistinct. He cannot hear redstone, or screaming, and he cannot smell rotten flesh, so at least the chance of torture is minimal.

Can he remember how he got here?

After a few moments of consideration Cellbit realises no, he cannot. Last he remembers is that he had been working in one of the Order offices. There's definitely a lump on his head and a splitting headache, though, so he thinks he can guess.

What else, what else...

He remembers a voice which said "good morning" and then "follow me".

A door opens, a door shuts. The doors are heavy, metal. The walls shake when they slam.

Footsteps are even, calm, purposeful - his captor, then.

Sure enough, sure enough, the footsteps stop at his door. Again something heavy opens.

This time, it does not close.

"Good morning," says a very familiar, robotic voice. "You have committed an illegal act."

Cellbit cannot help it - he laughs. An illegal act? That's all the stupid bear has to say to him? There's the sound of pen on paper, but blindfolded as he is he cannot read - not even take the book given the chains holding his hands fast.

The pen noises end, and Cellbit gets himself under control.

"Please read the book."

"How?" he asks, laughter creeping up again. "How do you want me to read, Cucurucho? I cannot even see!"

Up above, there is the sound of more footsteps. Three, maybe four, pairs. Faster, uneven, in short bursts and rapid. They're quiet, too - people sneaking.

There's a gunshot and a yell and Cellbit hides them both in manic laughter.

"Now."

Insistence does not change the fact Cellbit cannot see.

"How?" Cellbit asks.

"Why?" Cucurucho responds.

"Why what?"

"You have committed and illegal act. Why?"

"Maybe because you kidnapped me and my friends, trapped us on this island, and now make a habit of torturing us and murdering the children you gave us?" he replies, still not sure /which/ act he's being accused of.

"Why?"

Cellbit goes to answer, and hears another door slam open, and then shut. The quick footsteps are louder now - only two pairs this time, rapid movement towards the cell.

Upstairs, the other two pairs keep darting around.

Somewhere, an alarm goes off.

"What are you doing?"

The sound of stabbing, the jangle of keys, and then light footsteps are running while heavy ones chase and a gun keeps firing.

The other member of the pair slips into the cell, quieter.

They say nothing, but the keys jangle slightly.

One in each ankle, one in each hand.

The cuffs give way. Cellbit should remove the blindfold, but he cradles the broken wrist instead.

"Can you run?" a voice whispers.

Cellbit tries to walk, and stumbles, head spinning. He didn't realise he could see some light through the blindfold until his vision truly blacks out for a moment.

An arm catches him, guides him safely to sit.

"Shit, okay," a pause, a splash of a potion - it helps the sting, but not the wounds. "The others are running distraction, so we need to be quick. Can I carry you?"

Carefully he nods; Cellbit doesn't like the idea, but he doesn't have a better one.

One arm under his legs, and one behind his back, he's scooped up. No sooner is he safe in a friend's arms than he reaches up and tears the blindfold off.

Light hurts. He shuts his eyes. But at least this time, the darkness is his choice.

Cold turns to warm, damp turns to chemical, and then - finally - to fresh air.

He's out, now, and in the arms of someone he can't quite pinpoint but who must be a friend. His head wound smarts, his broken wrist hurts, he breathes deep and smells a flower field and with the sensation of a warp lets himself drift away.

[somebluemelodies]

@atthebell's SPIDERBIT WEEK DAY TWO: coffee shop | sparring i wanted to participate yesterday but i got a little too busy :') so today it is!! coffee shop my beloved classic au <3

The bell above the entrance jingles, but Roier doesn't pay too much mind to it, organizing some pastries on one of the back shelves. Mariana can attend to the customer.

Until he's nudged. "Your boyfriend is here."

His head snaps over to his best friend, who has that knowing, shit-eating grin on his face. "Pinche pendejo-- cállate," he hisses under his breath. "He's not my fucking boyfriend! We barely know each other!"

"Sorry, it's hard to remember sometimes with the way your eyes burn into his head every time he sits down," Mariana responds, and it takes all of Roier to not strangle him then and there.

He ignores Mariana's snicker as he takes the man's place at the register, just as the frequent customer approaches. The man in front of him smiles fondly, and Roier's stomach does a somersault as his lips curve up in return.

The man first started coming in a couple of weeks ago - Cellbit. Roier's brain had nearly blue-screened the second he'd approached the counter, and he wasn't sure if he was seeing things, but Cellbit had seemed just as flustered as him.

(Cellbit had nearly fumbled through what would become his usual order trying to maintain eye contact with the gorgeous barista, and he still kicks himself in the ass to this day over it.)

As of the last week or so, they've had some semblance of flirting going on; compliments thrown between lingering gazes and brushes of fingers. But nothing has happened.

It goes like clockwork: a brief game of catch-up since Cellbit's last visit a couple days ago (Roier finds his job as a private investigator rather fascinating, if not exhausting) before Roier reluctantly pulls away to actually complete his order.

When Roier hands off Cellbit's coffee, their fingers brush, sending a familiar electricity through his veins. Cellbit's smile returns, but something about it feels warmer than usual. More... flirtatious.

"Gracias, guapito."

Roier short-circuits. Guapito? Guapito? That's... new. That's very new.

He prays to God the heat he feels creeping up his neck isn't visible, and in his attempt to recompose himself, his mouth works faster than his brain. "Ay-- de nada, gatinho."

Cellbit looks pleasantly surprised, cheeks flushing, before he's smiling wider and laughing. All Roier can do is laugh as well as the investigator turns to go find his usual spot.

(New territory. This is very new territory.)

(Does that mean Cellbit feels the same after all? Or is he just having fun? Wait, when did all of this become so serious--)

"And I thought I was bad."

Roier is once again drawn back by Mariana. "Hijo de puta-- don't you have better things to be doing right now, man?"

"There's not much better than this, man."

"Go-- I don't know, go text your fucking fiancé or something." Roier grabs a rag to wipe the counter. "And for the record, you and Slime were bad, man. Fucking terrible."

Their bickering continues for a few minutes until Mariana finally fucks off disappears into the kitchen. Roier attends to a few customers, mind momentarily distracted with the work.

He ultimately spares another glance in Cellbit's direction, though. The man has taken a brief break from typing on his laptop to instead write something down on a napkin. He watches Cellbit run a hand through his hair, evidently frazzled about something, pushing it back as he turns his head.

They lock eyes, and he sees Cellbit's piercing blues widen behind his glasses momentarily. Roier feels like he's been caught red-handed, frozen in place, but Cellbit's stress seems to dissipate as he flashes him a smile.

(Do something.)

Roier instinctively smiles back, waving - and then immediately internally kicks himself in the ass for doing so. But Cellbit chuckles, returning the wave before turning back to whatever he's been writing on his napkin.

The barista is surprised minutes later when Cellbit approaches the counter, rather than heading right out like he normally does. The napkin is in his hand, folded, and he looks awfully sheepish.

(Do something.)

Roier takes a moment to admire him, heart racing in his chest. And then, before Cellbit can even speak first, he finally cracks. "Are you free tomorrow? I get out early."

Cellbit is stunned. "I-- sí. Sí."

(Do something.)

"Do you wanna go out? On a date?"

"I would love to." He sounds almost breathless, trying to compose himself, and Roier's heart could beat right out of his chest with adoration.

Cellbit's hand trembles slightly as he holds the folded napkin out for Roier to take, but his smile is blinding. "We can work out the logistics a little later. Hasta mañana."

Roier opens it, finding two words and a series of numbers. call me <3

Still riding his courageous high, he nods, looking back up at Cellbit and smiling. Winking. "Hasta mañana, gatinho."

(Cellbit's knees feel like jelly. He feels like a kid having his first crush, but he isn't sure how much shame he has left at this point.)

(It's hard to care when they're both blushing messes.)

"Guapito," is all Cellbit can manage before he's turning around and heading towards the door, feeling hell of a lot better than he did walking in.

Roier watches him leave, and as soon as the door is closed, reality crashes onto his shoulders. No mames.

It doesn't feel heavy, though. It's... light. Really light. Exuberantly light.

It feels like the start of something truly wonderful.

[whonsper]

even if this isnt posted on the second id like everyone to know that i wrote it on the second. time isnt real these are definitely not excuses

once again thank you @watercolorfreckles for the prompts <3

DAY 2: Staircase

obligatory everything is subject to change

I'm not a fucking hermit. I can leave my home whenever I want to. I just choose not to, on account of the fucking zombies. As much as you guys in the Federation wanna pretend nothing's wrong, and the island's perfect, I'm not so inclined to agree when the island has teeth and hands and fucking talks.

But I went outside today, for the first time since the fourth day on the island, when the sun went down for the last time. Yeah I would've loved to just stay inside but two of my walls were in a very heated argument about Among Us, and I just didn't feel like getting in the middle of that. Might as well leave.

Definitely didn't have anything to do with Roier coming over yesterday. It was really nice to see him, don't get me wrong! No, it was the way he looked when I told him I hadn't left my house in days. Just a look of pity and shock, like I was the crazy one for not going outside when there's fucking zombies everywhere.

Well I've gone outside. Just to prove that I can. Also because I was out of food. And wood. But that's not important. I was doing fine.

And it definitely was totally fine going out, I wasn't scared out of my fucking mind at all. Yeah, not a zombie in sight, made me feel like a fool for not going out sooner. In fact, the sun was out, and the birds were singing, and there was a train waiting right outside to take me away from this fucking nightmare island.

It sucked. Every step was scary, every breeze sounded like a zombie breathing over my shoulder. I had armor on but I've never felt so vulnerable. It felt like I had painted a huge target on my chest, like I was inviting the zombies right to a four course meal of my internal organs.

It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be though. At least sticking by the wall, having something behind me so I couldn't be blindsided, that was helpful. There wasn't many animals, but I was able to pick up some wheat from a couple small spots, so that was good. A couple fruit trees, now I won't die from scurvy, thank god. I wonder if the Federation can supply vitamin D supplements... Not for any particular reason, of course.

Chopping trees isn't fun, I've found. And surprisingly, that fact doesn't change in the dark. Yeah, still not great. But I'm gonna get buff as hell if I keep this up.

It did make me feel safer to be running around with a big sharp blade, not to sound like a crazed madman. But surprisingly, I didn't see many zombies. There were one or two that wanted to fight, but I made 'em wish they were never born! Turned? Killed? However the zombies on this island came to be, I made them wish they weren't!

I've heard from a couple other people not to use torches unless you wanna be swarmed, cuz the zombies naturally come towards the light. I'll be honest, I don't think I could've done that, I just put down torches cuz without them I couldn't see two inches in front of my face.

Not that it fucking mattered, cuz I'm still a danger to myself! At all times! Somehow, I don't know if the axe just slipped in my hands or I was distracted or I'm really just stupider than I thought, but I chopped right into my fucking wrist.

And the worst part is, I didn't even manage to make it a good clean cut all the way through. No, I stopped when I was like, most of the way through. So I've got an essentially dead hand hanging by a thread, blood pouring from a huge open wound, and a decision to make. Or maybe just a question to ask myself. Do I have the guts to cut off my own hand? Purposefully? Cuz it'll just get infected if I leave it, so it's gonna have to come off somehow.

The answer was yes, apparently. I don't know if it was adrenaline or what, but I had a totally mild freak out, about as much as you'd expect from your local wall hermit, and just cut the rest. It's still out there, somewhere, I didn't really wanna take it with me. I hope some zombie got it and has a taste for me now.

Um, yeah, so now I've just got a bleeding stump of a wrist that's just gushing blood onto the grass. I kinda didn't realize how much you use both hands for things until that moment when I went to tear my shirt to use as a bandage. Cuz apparently without a hand, it's a lot harder to stabilize, so tearing the shirt took more effort than I would've liked. Thank god I've still got my teeth.

I've been rocking the blood-stained crop top for hours now, I think it's gonna be the trend on the island here soon. I mean, it is a summer getaway, we gotta beat the heat somehow!

I could say I was sad that my little outing was brought to an end, but I think that'd be called lying. It was nice to breathe the fresh air, yes, less nice to have all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end for hours as I just wait for something to happen. I was more than happy to cut my losses, literally, and head home with everything I'd gathered, which wasn't a small amount! I cleared out a sizeable chunk today; who knows, maybe I'll make a nice pool out there, somewhere to relax, enjoy the sun and summer breeze.

As I was leaving, making my way back down the wall, way farther than I had originally thought I walked. Um, I heard someone say "run" to me. Not a great thing to hear when you're already on edge. But I turned around and there was a zombie, I guess I hadn't heard it walk up, I was so distracted chopping off my hand. But it was just sort of hobbling towards me, one of its legs looked messed up, so I wasn't too worried about it. Don't get me wrong, I kept my distance, but I didn't sprint immediately at the sight of it. I did walk a bit faster away from it though, you can never be too careful.

There was another zombie next to it, maybe 10 feet back, then I saw two more coming out of the trees and suddenly I kept seeing more and more. It was like I hadn't put on the glasses before but now I could finally see them, like they were always lurking in the trees, waiting to strike. They were still pretty slow, but it was pretty scary to find yourself surrounded by zombies when you thought you were safe.

And they're all saying "run" still. What had sounded like a monotone note of moans and grunts now was an entire chorus of voices telling me to run. And believe me, I didn't need to be told twice.

Thankfully I hadn't really walked far from my place, cuz the further I ran I had to keep sidestepping zombies that seemed to appear out of fucking nowhere. And some of them were much faster than I had anticipated. I mean there was one or two zombies that were almost sprinting behind me, scared the living shit out of me to look back and see something actually keeping pace. Still surrounded by a cacophony of voices telling me run. I swear I couldn't hear anything besides that and the pounding of blood in my ears.

I made it to my home, more or less safe, I'm sitting on the floor right now. There's zombies at my door, they're surrounding the place. If I didn't literally build my home into the side of the wall, I'd be way more worried they were gonna carve their way in somehow. I really hope that door holds up; it's been doing pretty well so far, but I really don't wanna rely on that and have to deal with it breaking when I need it most.

Um, I don't think my wrist is gonna get infected, crossing my fingers, or at least the ones I have left. I wrapped it in gauze, and it's clean, but I don't have any disinfectant until Cucurucho delivers some tonight.

Can I sue the Federation? For legal reasons, that last part was a joke, thank you Cucurucho, I love the island.

I'm still sat on my floor, trying to drown out the sounds. I really don't wanna hear them. They've gone from chanting "run" to "safe", which surprisingly doesn't actually make me feel safe at all. In fact, I feel extremely unsafe.

They're crawling over each other to get to me though, I can see them through my window. They haven't reached the window yet, it's still too high up for them, but they're trying anyway. Just climbing on top of each other, like some horrible zombified staircase. I just know that whatever's at the bottom of that stack is getting crushed, I don't think those zombies will make it out. Like a really fucked up mosh pit or something.

Really good and productive outing I had today. Really love it here. Disfruta la isla.