• Chainsmoker • Masky × Reader •

³

The woman shifted awkwardly in her seat, forced now to sit in the back since Brian has joined. It's been a few hours since the initial meeting, one she thought was odd. Glancing away from the window, she saw Tim's eyes watching her in the rearview mirror, making her huff. She felt like a child, being watched and worried about as if she couldn't take care of herself. She thought back to when she met Brian, his words.

"This is her? She's pretty, yeah, but she seems like just dead weight," He had said to Tim as if she wasn't standing right beside him, earning a growl from her. "How old even are you? Sixteen, seventeen?"

"I'm twenty-one, fuckface," She had huffed, glaring at him. She decided then that she didn't like Brian that much. When alone, Tim had assured her he was usually nicer, or at least used to be. Things happened and it all changed him. She didn't care. All she knew was that currently, he was a complete asshole.

The car ride was silent, and (y/n) had no idea where they were going. She thought about asking to turn the radio on, then decided not to since Brian might have some snarky remark and she just didn't want to hear it.

Sighing, she watched the trees as they drove past, almost thinking she saw what they called the Operator. She unbuckled her belt, moving to lay out on the full back seat, closing her eyes. She thought she might as well sleep on the way to where ever they were going.

She slowly opened her eyes after what seemed like seconds, (e/c) eyes searching around her. Immediately, she started to panic. She was in the middle of the woods, nothing to show her what way to go. As she quickly got up, brushing the dirt, leaves, and twigs off her, she noticed her clothes changed as well. No longer was she wearing shorts and a flannel, one Tim let her borrow, and sandals, but instead dark blue jeans, combat boots, and a white tank top.

She barely noticed the 9mm tugged in her waistband, but when she did, she quickly drew it. It had a full clip.

Static starting to cloud her hearing, drowning everything out as she trudged through the forest area. It was an uneventful venture out for a while. She soon grew to be comforted by the static, despite how it was still annoying and loud. It seemed like hours before something happened.

Masculine arms wrapped around her, one around her neck, choking her, the other around her waist, holding her close to the figure grabbing her. Immediately, she screamed, trying to fight her way free, squirming and hitting and everything she could. It was all in vain as she was dragged off.

She had dropped her gun, leaving it laying in the dirt and leaves.

The man whispered things unintelligible to her, as if in a language she didn't know. All she could understand was his shushes for her to be quiet, which she wasn't going to listen to.

"(Y/n)?"

She heard a familiar voice call her name. Then again, and again. She fought harder to get free, screaming at the top of her lungs.

After a minute, she actually was free. She caught a glimpse of his face and was traumatized.

Gore. That was all he was. He had scratches all over him, bleeding a dark void like black goop. An eye hung from the socket, a disgusting yellow puss slowly leaking from the infected wound. The gash in his cheek, showing off his gums and teeth that were black and yellow, was obviously infected and decaying, just death spreading everywhere. When you looked at his body, you could see chunks of skin missing, revealing the dark shaded bone that you shouldn't be able to see.

It was horrible.

Someone stood behind him, tall and skinny, pale and faceless. Only one word came to mind when she noticed him. Operator.