Dead by Daylight x Reader Oneshots + Other Stories

(The Legion) Frank Morrison x Reader

Title: The Legion
CW: foul language, mention of murder, violence, death

I enter the quiet hardware store, fingers enclosed around the handle of my knife. I look around, listening for any cleaners or night shift workers. I've come across a janitor before, he ended up being stabbed in the chest before I ran away. I wouldn't want to hurt another person, not unless it's absolutely necessary.

Sometimes, while I'm trying to fall asleep, I wonder if he lived or not.

After making sure the coast is clear, I approach the cash registers at the front. The sound of growing sirens stops me in my tracks. I duck down below the counter as the red and white lights flash by, sirens fading off as the trucks speed away. I stand up and approach the door, my curiosity getting the best of me.

I leave the store, following the vehicles with my eyes. My gaze trails to the growing fire, located right at the theatre downtown. The flame mercilessly devours the majestic building, black smoke billowing from the ruins. I wonder who could manage to commit arson at one of the grandest buildings Ormond has to offer.

I stuff my hands in my pockets, shrugging. Someone strong, I think, someone big, and merciless. I imagine the horror films I've watched, comparing killers and criminals to the person that burned the theatre down. Soon enough, the scent of smoke fills the air, small bits of ash wafting by with the wind. I breathe in the sweet, charred air, reaching for the nearest cash resister.

I start to open it, when I hear footsteps echo around the empty store. I tense up, looking over my shoulder. "Where's the paint at, Joey?" A male voice asks, footfalls loud, careless.

"Over here, come on! We gotta be fast, my boss will be back soon!" I listen, looking at the door. I didn't realize the boss was only having a break. I hesitate, my hand laying on the register. Wait, his boss?

I crouch down, peering around the counter. He's a worker? The group of four scavenge the store, taking paints, brushes, masks, and other random items from the shelves. I watch, curious yet again. One of the boys reaches for a snow globe sitting atop a desk, but his friend smacks his hand. "It's the boss's, we can't take anything from him."

He shrugs him away and takes the globe. I shake my head and grab some cash, creeping along the aisles and to the doors. Whoever they are, I don't want them to notice me. I'm halfway to the door when a girl steps into my aisle, focused on the spray paints. I freeze, involuntarily reaching for my knife. She catches the movement, startling as she stares at me.

"Frank!" I can't think, can't breathe. "We got company—" I lunge forwards, knife clenched tight in my grip. She counters my attack, sending my blade out of my fingers and across the floor.

She grabs my shoulders and tries to pin me, but I elbow her in the gut. She responds by slamming me into a shelf, calling out for her friend again. My heart pounds in my ears as I jerk away and kick her in the shin. I take my chance when she staggers, diving for my knife. I turn around before she can get up, eyes locked with hers as I raise the blade.

Before I can react to the approaching footsteps, I'm tackled to the ground, a blade held to my neck. I gasp, struggling to move my arm as it's pinned by the boy's leg. He digs his knee into my wrist until I release my knife. He stares at me, easily keeping me down. The other boy takes my weapon away while the other girl helps her friend up. The one on top of me slowly stands up and takes a step back, wary.

I stay down, aware of the blade still poised at my throat. "Who are you?" The boy with the knife asks.

"I should ask you the same." I mutter, catching sight of the ash on their clothes and faces. The scent of smoke grew stronger when they entered the place. "Wait, are.. are you the ones that burned down the theatre?"