Request Series

The Bwitch and the Bully (Dbd: Julie Kostenko/Mikaela Reid)

Mikaela isn't new to being bullied, but really? Here? *Now?* At a time like this?? LIKE this?!If Mikaela knew any better, she'd think the killer has a crush on her or something-

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The cool, Canadian air burned her lungs and stiffened her joints. Or maybe it was from that two-story fall from the Lodge balcony that caused her discomfort. Mikaela's glasses continuously fogged from her haggard breaths. She's never had such a hard time breathing, not even when being chased by the killers in different places in time. But Ormond? It's like the cold constricts her lungs and the dark energies of this place bogged down her soul and left her feeling despondent and borderline hopeless.

    Every place within the Entity's realm had this effect on her. Mikaela didn't know why this place was affecting her so differently than the others, but she never stuck around long enough to figure out why. Though... Mikaela certainly had her theories, and one of them was currently hunting her and her alone.

    "C'mon, Bwitch! Where'dya go?! I just wanna commission your 'services'!" The killer laughed as she only just missed a cowering Mikaela hidden just behind a partially broken wall.

Mikaela could hear her ragged breathing. She could see the saliva that frothed from the corner of her mouth, threatening to spill down the side of her face and down to her chin. A flustered giggle bubbles up to the back of the killer's throat, sending a chill down Mikaela's spine. Unable to stand sitting still any longer, she makes a break for it.

This killer, a member of the Legion, if she remembered correctly, seemed to gravitate towards her every match Mikaela is unfortunate enough to share with her. She can feel when it's her, and, perhaps, she knows it too, even if it's at a more subconscious level. Mikaela can theorize and debate with herself all day- she has done so many, many times- she will never come to a satisfying conclusion.

As much as Mikaela would like to think she operates well under pressure, she, of all people, knows this isn't the case. She can't even talk in front of a crowd under ten people without feeling sick to her stomach and weak in the knees! Running from a psychotic killer is something that leaves her in a state of fight-or-flight that Mikaela can't accurately put into words. It's like drowning in a bottomless pit of freezing cold water with unknown, slimy things touching every inch of her body. It's not unlike the terrors she faces nearly every waking moment since she was taken into the Fog.

Rapid footsteps and audible panting that grows louder with each bound causes Mikaela's breath to seize in her throat. She can't breathe or see or feel her legs but she can't stop! I-If she makes it to a pallet, then- then-!

"UGH-?!"

Mikaela is tackled from behind, just before she could get within arm's reach of her life saving pallet. Damn it! The killer attempted to straddle her hips but Mikaela didn't stop struggling to crawl away. It didn't immediately strike her- in more than one way- but she wasn't stabbed, cut, or hit yet. The Legion member merely sought to pin her in place, nearly knocking off her glasses as she wadded up the back of Mikaela's shirt and violently shook her.

"Fuckin- STOP SQUIRMING-!" Mikaela and the killer both cried out in shock as the pallet was brought down onto the killer's back suddenly and without warning. Mikaela didn't wait to start kicking as she struggled to free herself from the weight of the killer.

Too many things happened at once for Mikaela to fully process. A hand grabbed the underneath of her armpits. She screamed and fought back, but quickly realized it was Meg that had grabbed her.

"C'mon! The gates are ninety-nined!" Mikaela was tugged to her feet, hardly given enough time to actually regain her balance before she was pulled along and towards what she hoped would be the exit gates.