Crimson Winter
The snow beneath him was painted red.
Chance barely felt the cold anymore. He barely felt anything, except the sick, twisting weight of dread in his chest as he ran. His heart pounded, his breath came in ragged gasps, and every step felt like a lifetime.
Then he saw him.
His knees nearly buckled.
Guest lay slumped against the base of a fallen tree, his body limp, his face ghostly pale beneath streaks of crimson. His chest barely moved. Blood soaked his coat, staining the snow beneath him in a dark, spreading pool.
For one horrible moment, Chance thought he was too late.
Then—a shuddering breath.
A weak twitch of fingers against the ice.
Chance surged forward, falling to his knees beside him. His hands grasped at Guest’s coat, at his shoulders, his arms—desperate, trembling.
- “Guest—Guest! Hey, I’m here! I’ve got you—”
Guest’s eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, it was like he wasn’t really there. Then, slowly, his dull, unfocused gaze found Chance.
- “…Chance,” he breathed, barely more than a whisper.
Relief hit Chance so hard it nearly crushed him. A shaky laugh escaped his lips—half-sob, half-prayer.
- “You’re alive,” he whispered. “God, you’re alive.”
Guest exhaled softly, his lips barely curving into something that might’ve been a smile if he weren’t so tired.
- “Barely,” he murmured.
- “Shut up,” Chance choked out, his fingers trembling as they hovered uselessly over Guest’s wounds, as if he could somehow push the life back into him with sheer will alone. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m getting you out of here.”
Guest let out something that might have been a laugh—if it wasn’t so weak. His breath hitched, and he winced, his body trembling violently.
-“Chance…” His voice was softer now, distant.
- “No,” Chance cut him off, shaking his head furiously. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not—this isn’t—” His breath hitched. “You’re gonna live. I swear it.”
Guest’s bloody fingers twitched—then slowly, weakly, they reached up.
Chance barely had time to react before Guest’s trembling hands cupped his face.
His touch was cold. So, so cold.
The blood on his fingers smeared across Chance’s cheeks, staining his skin. Deep red, bright against the pale of the snow, against the blue of the night.
Chance inhaled sharply.
Guest’s thumbs brushed against his cheekbones, shaking, unsteady. His touch was barely there, but Chance felt it more than anything.
He looked at him—really looked at him.
Eyes filled with something heavy. Something final.
And Chance understood.
His breath hitched, and his vision blurred with tears.
- “No,” he whispered. His fingers clutched at Guest’s sleeves, at his collar, desperate to hold onto him. “No, you’re not—don’t do this. Please.”
Guest’s bloody lips curled into the smallest, faintest smile.
- “Take it,” he murmured. "You've always been so.. Fascinated about it"
It took Chance a second to realize what he meant—until Guest weakly pulled at the chain around his neck, his fingers struggling with the clasp. A simple, worn dog tag, glinting faintly in the moonlight.
He pressed it into Chance’s hands, his grip weak, but firm.
- “Take whatever you want,” Guest whispered.
Chance choked back a sob, clutching the dog tag so tightly it bit into his palm.
- “I don’t want this,” he rasped. “I want you.”
Guest’s hands were slipping from his face, falling back into the snow. His eyes were dimming. His breath was coming too slow.
- “Guest—”
Chance’s voice broke.
He shook him. He gripped his shoulders, his face, his hands—anything to keep him here, anything to keep him awake.
Guest exhaled softly. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something else.
Then—
His body went still.
The world stopped.
Chance froze.
For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think.
Then—
- “No—no, no, no—”
His voice cracked as he shook him, as he pressed his forehead against Guest’s and clung to him as if that could somehow change things.
His body shook with sobs.
Guest’s blood stained his hands. His suit..His skin.
He was covered in it.
And Guest was gone.
A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the trees.
Chance’s breath caught, his body going rigid.
Then, the air grew thick. Heavy. The world itself seemed to hold its breath.
And through the mist—
A shadow moved.
John Doe.
He stood just beyond the trees, watching with that same hollow expression. His claws still dripped red. The darkness around him pulsed, shifting like something alive.
???? -"How touching," he mused, his voice smooth as ice. "Did you really think it would end any other way?"
Chance’s entire body shook.
Slowly, he lifted his head.
His fingers curled into fists, trembling with rage.
- “You,” he snarled.
John Doe only tilted his head, amused.
????- "Still clinging to hope? Pathetic."
Chance’s hand flew to his flintlock. He didn’t care if he was outmatched. He didn’t care if he died here.
But before he could move—
A firm grip yanked him back.
????- “That’s enough.”
The voice was low. Steady.
Chance twisted, his eyes wide and wild—
Shedletsky.
His face was unreadable. His grip on Chance was unyielding.
John Doe chuckled.
???? -"Ah," he mused, lips curling. "So you were watching."
Shedletsky said nothing. His gaze flickered to Guest’s lifeless form. Then, with quiet finality, he pulled Chance back.
????- “We need to go,” he murmured. “Now.”
Chance struggled.
- “No—no, I’m not leaving him—I can’t—”
????- “Chance.” Shedletsky’s voice was sharp. Unforgiving. “He’s gone.”
Chance’s breath shuddered.
The words hit like a bullet to the chest.
John Doe let out a soft, mocking laugh.
???? - "Listen to him, little gambler," he crooned. "You're already too late." He smirked, tilting his head. "Do yourself a favor—run while you still can."
Chance’s vision blurred.
His entire body screamed at him to fight, to stay, to die here if he had to.
But Shedletsky didn’t give him a choice.
With one last glance at Guest’s lifeless form—at the blood staining the snow, at the dog tag clenched tight in his palm—
Shedletsky dragged him away.
The wind howled.
John Doe only watched.. With that smirk on his face
Chance wanted to slap it off..
Chance’s legs burned with every step, his heart slamming painfully against his ribs as he struggled to break free from Shedletsky’s grip.
His breath was ragged, choked by the sobs that wracked his body, and his hands still clenched around the dog tag—his only connection to Guest, his only tether to the man he’d just lost.
- “No! Let me go! I won’t leave him! I can’t!” Chance’s voice cracked, his chest tight with anguish as he pulled against Shedletsky’s unyielding hold. “I need to go back! He’s not—he’s not really gone, Shedletsky! He can’t be—”
His words were a broken, desperate plea. Every instinct in him screamed to return to the body—back to Guest, whose lifeless form still haunted his vision. The snow, stained with red—the blood—Guest’s blood—it didn’t feel real. He couldn’t let it be real.
But Shedletsky’s grip only tightened, a vise around his arm, keeping him moving, pulling him forward as the wind whipped around them.
????- “Chance, stop.” Shedletsky’s voice was a sharp command, cold and unyielding. “We don’t have time for this.”
Chance’s chest heaved with ragged breaths. His mind was a blur of grief, his whole being consumed with the need to run back to that place. He couldn’t leave Guest like that. He couldn’t—
- “No!” Chance screamed, his voice high-pitched with desperation. His body thrashed as he tried to break free. “I won’t leave him! I won’t—don’t makeme do this!”
Shedletsky’s response was swift. With a final, powerful tug, he pulled Chance forward, forcing him to keep moving.
????- “Youhave to!” Shedletsky snapped, his voice cutting through the wind. His expression was hard, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something too distant for Chance to fully grasp in his current state of panic.
Shedletsky’s words cut through Chance’s frantic cries like a blade, but the younger man couldn’t let go of the agony that gripped his chest.
- “You don’t understand! He’s gone! I—I couldn’t do anything! I couldn’t save him! I promisedhim—”
Shedletsky didn’t let him finish.
????- “Guest wanted youalive, Chance!” The words rang out, hard and final, and for a moment, it felt like everything around them stopped. “He sacrificedhimselfforyou!”
Chance’s world seemed to shatter at those words. His legs faltered for a moment, and his breath hitched as his mind struggled to process what Shedletsky had just said. Guest—Guest had sacrificedhimselfforhim?
The truth slammed into him, the weight of it almost knocking the breath from his lungs. Guest had given everything so that Chance could keep going.
Forme.
The world felt heavy. Cold. Empty.
Shedletsky’s grip remained firm, pulling him forward with ruthless efficiency. Chance’s body shook, every part of him screaming to stop, to go back, to fight for the life he couldn’t save. His mind was a whirlwind, his body dragging through the snow.
But as they moved further from the place where Guest had died, a horrible, numbing realization settled over him.
He was truly gone.
Chance stumbled, his legs refusing to cooperate, and for a moment, his entire world seemed to collapse around him.
The weight of his grief was almost too much to bear.
He could feel the heavy, crushing sorrow pressing down on him, threatening to drown him.
He’d never get to see Guest’s smile again. He’d never hear his voice.
- “I failed him…” Chance whispered brokenly, his voice trembling. His hands still clutched the dog tag, but it felt so fragile now, as if it were slipping from his fingers. “I failed him, Shedletsky…”
Shedletsky, in his usual calm manner, didn’t respond right away, but when he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost pained in a way Chance hadn’t expected.
????- “He knew what he was doing. He knew what you meant to him.” Shedletsky’s words were almost a whisper in the wind. “And now, it’s on you to make sure his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”