the corrupted claw of john doe
The tension snapped in an instant.
John Doe lunged forward, his massive clawed hand slicing through the air with terrifying speed.
The ground beneath them warped and cracked, pulsating with an unnatural darkness as jagged black spikes erupted upward.
The earth itself seemed to recoil under his presence, leaving a twisting, writhing void where his feet had been.
????- "Scatter!" Builderman’s voice cut through the chaos, but it was already too late.
A spike tore through the ground just inches from him, sending shards of dirt and rock flying.
He dove to the side, but the shockwave of the impact knocked him off balance, sending him sprawling across the ground.
His arm scraped hard against the frozen dirt, leaving behind a long, stinging wound.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself up even as the world spun around him.
Shedletsky barely had time to react. He twisted his body mid-air, but one of the black spikes grazed his thigh, tearing through his pants and leaving a deep, burning scratch. He landed hard, rolling onto one knee, his sword clutched tightly in his hands.
????- "Damn freak," he muttered, more annoyed than hurt, his grip tightening on the hilt of his weapon.
Noob wasn’t so lucky—one of the spikes shot up beneath him, striking his side and knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled back, gasping as he clutched his ribs.
- "H-he’s fast!" he choked out, barely managing to stay on his feet.
Elliot hit the ground hard, landing on his shoulder with a painful grunt. The impact sent a sharp jolt through his arm, and he knew immediately it was going to bruise badly.
"This is not what I signed up for," he groaned, forcing himself upright as quickly as he could.
Chance and Guest had already split apart, their instincts carrying them away from the initial attack.
But even with their quick reflexes, they weren’t completely unscathed.
A spike shot up between them, grazing Chance’s leg and nearly knocking him off balance.
He let out a sharp hiss of pain but forced himself to stay standing, adrenaline dulling the worst of it for now.
Guest barely had time to reach for him before John Doe’s clawed hand swiped through the air toward him.
He threw himself backward just in time, but the sheer force of the attack sent him skidding across the dirt.
He landed hard, but he was already pushing himself back up, eyes locked on their attacker.
Two Time had managed to dodge entirely, but not without consequence. A spike caught the edge of his jacket, slicing through the fabric and scraping his side. He clenched his jaw against the pain, keeping his stance low as he analyzed John Doe’s movements.
- "He's not holding back…" he muttered under his breath.
007n7 had teleported just before impact, reappearing several feet away. But even he looked shaken, his c00lgui sparking slightly from the rushed movement.
- "This guy’s a nightmare," he muttered, already recalibrating his device for another jump if needed.
John Doe stood at the center of the destruction, an unnatural presence against the backdrop of the quiet, frozen forest. Black mist curled around him like smoke, his hollow eyes scanning the group with cold, calculating precision.
And then, without a word, he raised his clawed hand again.
The ground trembled as another wave of spikes erupted from below, jagged obsidian tendrils tearing through the earth with unnatural speed.
- "Move!"
Chance shouted, grabbing Guest’s wrist and pulling him away as the ground exploded beneath them.
They had to fight. Or escape.
Builderman, still shaking off the pain, barked orders.
????- "No time to be stunned! We either take him down or get the hell out of here—now!"
Shedletsky, already back on his feet, smirked despite the pain lancing through his leg.
????- "Oh, I like this guy. He’s insane." He rolled his shoulders, raising his sword.
Elliot, despite the throbbing ache in his shoulder, fumbled for his medical bag. He wasn’t going to have time to patch anyone up—not in the middle of this.
"We don’t have the firepower for this!" he called out, eyes darting between the others.
Chance clenched his teeth, his grip tightening around his flintlock pistol.
-"Then let’s make some!"
He cocked the hammer, aimed straight at John Doe’s center mass, and pulled the trigger.
The gun fired—But something was wrong.
Chance barely had time to register the unnatural resistance in the barrel before the explosion hit.
The flintlock detonated in his hands.
The force of the blast sent him flying backward, his body hitting the ground with a heavy thud. His ears rang, the world spinning violently around him. His arm burned—whether from the heat, the impact, or shrapnel, he wasn’t sure.
All he knew was that John Doe was still moving.
And he was coming straight for him.
Guest reacted instantly.
He threw himself in front of Chance just as John Doe’s claw came down.
- "Run, Chance!" Guest roared, shoving him back.
The impact hit Guest full force.
The blackened claws slashed across his side, tearing through fabric and flesh alike. Blood splattered onto the cold ground, staining the fresh snow with streaks of red.
Chance’s breath caught in his throat. His mind screamed at him to move, to do something, but his body was frozen in place.
Guest staggered but didn’t fall. His fists were still clenched, his stance still strong despite the searing pain radiating through his body. He gritted his teeth, his breathing ragged.
John Doe tilted his head slightly, as if amused.
- "You’re not," Guest rasped, coughing against the taste of copper in his mouth, "getting to him."
Chance’s hands trembled. His chest tightened with something between fear and fury.
- "B-but- gue-"
Guest’s gaze flicked toward him—sharp, serious.
"I said run!"
And then, John Doe struck again.
The choice wasrippedfromhim.
Chance barely had time to process the command before John Doe’s clawed hand came down again.
Guest tried to dodge, but his wounds slowed him. The strike hit hard, sending him flying backward. His body crashed into the frozen ground with a sickening thud.
For a horrifying moment, he didn’t move.
Chance’s breath hitched.
- "No, no—!"
His body acted before his mind could catch up. He surged forward, reaching for Guest—
A black spike shot up from the ground.
Chance barely twisted out of the way in time. The jagged tendril slashed across his shoulder, a searing pain tearing through his jacket.
John Doe was faster than before. Smarter.
He was forcing Chance back. Keeping him away.
Chance fought against it. He raised his pistol—his backup, the only thing he had left—but before he could fire, John Doe moved again.
This time, straightforhim.
It was too fast.
Chance saw the shadow of the strike—too close—his body refused to react in time—
And then, out of nowhere—
A blur of motion.
Something—someone—crashed into him, shoving him hard out of the way.
The impact sent Chance rolling across the frozen dirt.
For the second time that night, he hit the ground hard.
Distantly, he heard a voice—Builderman, maybe, or Two Time—yelling something, but his ears were still ringing. His vision blurred as he forced himself up.
The spot where he’d just stood was now a crater of jagged black spikes.
If he’d still been standing there—
Chance froze.
- "Who—"
And then he saw him.
Guest.
Still standing, but barely.
John Doe loomed in front of him, black mist curling off his body like smoke.
Guest’s stance was weak. His side bled heavily, his uniform torn and stained. His breathing was ragged, and his hands trembled from the pain.
But his eyes—
His eyes were locked onto John Doe.
- "You’re not taking him," he rasped.
John Doe tiltedhishead—then moved again.
This time, Chance saw it happen in slowmotion.
The mist around John Doe darkened. His claws flashed.
Guest didn’t move.
A blur of black andred.
And then—
A shockwave erupted outward, blinding white energy surging from the impact. The force sent everyone staggering back—Chance, Builderman, Shedletsky—
By the time Chance could see again—
Guestwasgone.
The snow was painted red where he had stood.
Chance’s heartbeat slammed against his ribs.
- "No—NO—!"
He stumbled forward, hands shaking. His mind refused to process it. He scanned the battlefield, wild-eyed, desperate—
Guest had to be there.
He had to.
But there was nothing.
No body. No movement. Just blood.
John Doe stood silent at the center of the carnage. The black mist around him twisted, as if laughing.
Chance felt something inside him snap.
He charged—
John Doe turned—
And then—
A hand grabbed the back of Chance’s jacket and ripped him backward.
Chance barely registered who it was before the ground exploded beneath him.
Another black spike slammed into the spot where he’d just been standing.
Someone—Two Time, maybe—dragged him away, forcing him to move.
Voices shouted around him.
????- "We’re leaving—NOW!"
- "Fall back—FALL BACK!"
- "RUN!"
Chance struggled, his body fighting against the pull—
He couldn’t leave—he couldn’t—
But then another black spike shot just inches from his face.
The air burned with darkness.
His body moved on instinct.
And for the first time in his life—
Chance ran
Later…
The group collapsed into a battered heap in the ruins of an abandoned shack, miles from the battlefield.
No one spoke at first. The only sounds were ragged breathing, pained grunts, the occasional cough.
Elliot was already moving, patching wounds as fast as he could.
"Everyone—stay still—just—just breathe—"
Builderman sat against a crumbling wall, his head in his hands.
????- "We were not ready for that."
Noob hugged his knees, his face pale.
- "He’s… h-he’s just gone…"
007n7 stared at his c00lgui, hands trembling. His device had recorded everything, but even he couldn’t bring himself to replay it.
Chance sat in the corner. Silent.
His hands were still shaking. His mind was racing.
Guest wasn’t gone.
He couldn’t be.
There had to be a way—
There had to be—
A weak, broken voice cut through the silence.
????- "...We are going back for him. Right?"
Shedletsky.
His usual arrogance was gone. His face was unreadable.
But Chance could hear it in his tone.
The same thing he was feeling.
The refusal to accept this.
Chance exhaled shakily.
His fist clenched.
- "...Of course we are."
His voice was hoarse.
But it was certain.
Guest wasn’t dead.
Chance refused to believe it.
And no matter what it took—
He was gettinghim back.