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Chapter Text

Another unsuccessful trial, screams echo through the cornfield as Jake is sacrificed. Claudette finds herself hiding in the top floor of the Thompson house, just barley finished from tending to her wounds. Crows perched on the ledge eye her with intensity. From afar black spider-like tendrils spawn from the sky collecting Jake's body; the sacrifice is complete. 

She doesn't have much time left.

She quickly descends down the staircase and makes her way scouting the map for the hatch. They didn't have a chance at escaping all together with only 3 generators completed. One mistake led to another, resulting in a complete massacre. 

Jogging through the cornfield, Claudette's eyes dart left and right frantically searching for the hidden exit. Terrified crows flock to the sky as she passes by. Her heartbeat starts to rush, thumping against her ears. Shit. She can only hope the approaching jungle gym might be her lucky break as her captivator gains distance. A loud roaring chainsaw can be heard behind her, followed by a guttural roar dashing at high speeds. She just barley makes the corner, avoiding being mauled by the chainsaw. Just as the chainsaw starts revving Claudette spots the hatch meters away. She doesn't have much time to think; she's tunneled vision towards the loud hum. Running with her all, she forces herself to keep pushing through her exhaustion. She's arms length away before being cut down by the roaring mammoth. 
Her face hits with the ground hard, eating dirt from the impact. She lays there limp, a meter away from the escape. Its no use crawling, he'll just pick her up and squash any hope left in her. Bracing for the pickup, Claudette waits with bated breath only--for nothing to happen. Looking back, she sees the disfigured menace staring at her with hitched breaths. She couldn't believe her eyes, a killer hesitating for a kill? Perhaps he's just toying with her, but just maybe--what if?

"...Are you letting me go?"

He nods in approval, his stance nor expression flinching once. There's just too many questions rushing through her head, but she knows better than to take this opportunity for granted. She crawls hastily towards the luring hum, glancing back to mutter something before slipping into the black fog. 

"Thank you."

Claudette free falls as the black fog encapsulates her entire being. Its not long before a loud THUD, making contact with the ground face first. Groaning from the fall, she flips herself on her back--taking deep breaths of relief. Gods, that trial certainly took a lot out of her. Footsteps approach her, too tired to even acknowledge who it might be. 

"You look like shit," Dwight comments. 

With a simple grunt, Claudette makes no attempt at socializing before being dragged to the campfire. 

Dwight tends to her wounds as they both sit in front of the warm embrace of the fire. His patchwork isn't the best but he's improving from the lessons she's taught him. It's not long before the rest of the sacrificed survivors appear from the forest fog. Ace walks in, then followed by Jake and Meg. Not much words are exchanged as the trio just slump into the campfire spots, collecting themselves. It always feels like a piece of them dies with every sacrifice. Memories are hazy at first from being just brought back from the dead. It never gets easier each trial, the pain still as fresh the first time. 

The calm fickle fire lulls Claudette's attention. Despite its faint warmth, it always felt empty sitting next to it. With her only refuge being in the flora, its not long before zoning out; analyzing each plant found in the pit of hell. Living things somehow thrive in this grimy and wicked place. Perhaps they're- 

"Claudette!"

The dazing botanist is brought to attention, her gaze snaps to Meg. It seems the redhead has finally regained her spark. 

"How'd you manage to escape? You look torn up!" she asks curiously, eyeing her bandaged back. Claudette freezes for a moment, debating whether or not to tell the truth. She's unsure of how to break the strange news, a killer being merciful? It's unheard of given ever since she's been trapped here. Plus, there's-- she's starting at me-- I've been monologuing far too long in my head. 

"I-I've been lucky is all" was all she could muster for her answer. Meg doesn't look to pleased with the answer but doesn't push for more. She could sense something bothered Claudette during that trial. Despite Claudette's social awkwardness the original four have developed a bond through countless trials. She still struggles socializing with the newcomers, rather staying recluse in her own botanical world. It was better to fixate on the familiar rather than being forced into awkward conversations.

Staring deep into the woods she notices a figure hiding among the shadows. White dots linger in the darkness before vanishing. This is the first time anything appeared outside of the woods, it's unheard of. Curiosity gets the better of her, not much to lose out here considering death isn't an escape. Her head glances around seeing if anyone took notice of the strange sighting. No one seemed to be sharing the same reaction, busying themselves through idle chatter or silent stares as to remain sane.

She picks herself up and starts making her way towards the direction of the figure. Her mind filled with endless questions. Perhaps someone has found a way out? What if there's more to this campfire? Her pacing quickens with hope before slowing down. What if the killers had found their campfire. Has the entity devised another terror waiting for them after trials? Dread quickly fills her heart, she hesitates to take another step before being determined to trudge forward. Either way she's spent far too long stuck at the campfire, she's desperate for change.

Claudette takes note of the flora changing around her as they change to a yellow hue. The thick forest starts to dissipate as the first sign of sunlight shines through the thick leaves. Surprised by the sudden discovery, Claudette sprints, hopeful she may have found a way out of here.

Only to be disappointed by the familiar scenery of the Coldwind Farm. Yet the realm seems to be far more intact than during the trials. The property stretches far with all the familiar landmarks being in sight. Past the cornstalks lays the meat tree, adjacent to it is the cowshed and the rancid abattoir. In the middle lies the infamous Thompson's House surrounded by corn. One concerning note being the lack of pallets or windows to be found here. Without any resources to protect herself, it's best to remain stealthy and return back to the campfire.

Yet when she heads back towards the direction of the campfire, the fog ends up bringing her back to the farm. 

Claudette's heart starts to race, realizing she can't leave the realm. Unsure of how to proceed, she keeps on walking, hoping to find anything new to help her escape. Even though it's not a trial, perhaps the hatch may still be here. Worst case scenario she ends up dead and returns back to the campfire, nothing new in that regard. One can hope she'll be killed quickly rather than being tortured to death. Taking steps into the tall cornstalks, Claudette continues on as the vile stench of carcass lingers in the air. 

Chapter Text

Walking through the crowded cornstalks, Claudette makes her way towards the Thompson house. The daylight doesn't bring any comfort either; there's always been something off about the sunlight. The warmth it gives feels strangely artificial. Finally approaching the house, she enters the clearing where the barn lies adjacent to the house and a dirt road nearby. It was off-putting seeing the landmarks without convoluted junk sprinkled everywhere. The hay bales in a pile near the barn; far ahead, the tractor towers over the cornfield. Figuring it'd be best to avoid the house in case he's there, Claudette searches the barn. To her luck, there weren't any animals to warn of her presence. Given their carcasses laid everywhere, of course, in a bloody massacre. Guess that explains the silence... Further on, she notices a shed shy of a few meters from the barn's entrance. The shed door didn't have any lock, opening with ease to reveal an intricate workshop inside.

Claudette was mesmerized by the various tools and parts spread apart everywhere on the wooden table. Her trance is quickly broken by the stench of blood, probably where he tunes up in here. Thinking back on the tools laid in front of her, she would need something to open the hatch in case it was closed. Perhaps something to remove the hinges; finding an intact key out here seems unlikely.

In the background a distant chainsaw can be heard.

She doesn't have much time to flounder around. She needs to hide. Now.

Not wishing to risk being caught out in the open, her best chance was to pray he doesn't come in here. Who is she kidding? Of course he'll come in here. What will she do then? Perhaps she can find a weapon and ambush him. That might buy her enough time to run and find an exit.

Noting the locker in the corner, Claudette quickly but quietly slides inside, taking shallow breaths while holding a hammer. The chainsaw noise stops momentarily before the door is kicked open with force. From the slit she sees the hulking figure casting a lopsided shadow. Heavy, hitched breaths can be heard before a loud thud from the chainsaw making contact with the table. Rarely does she have the time to really take in his form in detail. The torn tank top encapsulating his large frame, the curvature of his spine affecting his gait, and the well-built muscles equipped to best suit his violent demeanor. Hunched over the table, he tinkers with the chainsaw, using a variety of tools to tune it. Claudette lets out a small gasp, not realizing she's been holding her breath the entire time. She's quick to cover her mouth, but it's already too late, his gaze snapping behind him towards the locker. Bringing the hammer to her chest, ready to pounce at any moment. She can only hope the weapon actually works, unlike their previous attempts at fighting back in the trials.

The Hillbilly opens the locker, taken aback to find a survivor in here. Claudette lunges towards him before he ends up catching her arm. He swiftly takes away the hammer and throws her against the floor. Before she can even catch her breath she's pinned down to the floor, catching the menacing glare above. His frame covers her entire view, eyes of a predator eyeing her down, she can't read him at all. Trying to look for any sign of expression in his face at all and yet it remains stagnant. Her mind is screaming her to run and yet not a single ounce of her moves. His heavy breathing continues not long before the silence being broken by a cough. He grabs his weapon and lifts her chin with the head of the hammer.

"What brings ye here flower girl?"

Claudette barley understands his rough manner of speaking, more so surprised a killer can even talk. Confused, lost, and desperate, she mutters, "...I'm lost"

He presses down harder on his foot, leaving her heaving a bit trying to catch air. 

"You best not be lying to me now. I've had my fair share dealing with people like you."

Her ribs start to ache from the pressure. 

"I-It's true! I really don't know how I got here. I just want out nothing much. Please."

He lifts his foot slightly from her torso, the pain alleviating by a bit. Her eyes snap to his expression, he paused, almost taking a step back. He quickly regains his composure, finally letting go of her. 

Quickly turning over to her side, she gasps for air in quick succession. The moment of reprieve is brief before the hammer slams in front of her; making a crack in the wooden floor. 

"Ye best stay here and do what you're told. I'll return."

Claudette slowly nods her head, not wishing to fathom the alternative.

Seemingly proud of his work, he leaves the shed. The wooden door slams shut, followed by a clicking sound and the heavy footsteps fading.

Chapter Text

Claudette's breathing picks up a pace, a heavy hand grasps at her heart. This is uncharted territory. She shouldn't have dared leave the campfire. She shouldn't have acted out of line at all. It's becoming harder to breathe every second. The pounding becomes more deafening, she can't focus right.

Backing herself into the corner of the shed, her hand flinches from feeling a sharp pain. Peering down her right palm, there's a sandbur growing between the cracks of the wooden planks. It's quite the feisty weed, it was unpleasant walking through them when she'd explore the fields as a child. Always a hassle picking the spiky seeds out of her shoes and socks.

Finally taking back control over her mind, her breathing becomes more pronounced and slower. Taking notice of her environment, the only sunlight slipping through the cracks of the shed. After a few deep breaths, she's grounded to reality again. Her only exit has been blocked with it locking the door. If only she had Nea's expertise in picking locks. While she does have the shed's tools to her disposal, she's not sure how much time she'll have chopping down the door. Let alone if he's far enough to hear her ruckus. Where can she even go afterwards, the shed is a good far distance from the forest. It's unknown how fast the Hillbilly can run outside the trials, not a risk worth taking. Claudette stands up and examines the tools scattered on the table. The screwdriver catches her eye, she could use it for a decisive strike to the shoulder and make a run for it. After examining the screwdriver heavy footsteps can be heard outside. Claudette quickly stuffs the screwdriver behind her in-between her belt loops before pulling down her shirt over her waistband.

The door swings open as a flash of light floods into the room. Claudette crooks her head up to see the tall figure blocking her view from the outside world. He takes a few steps in before slamming the door shut without a care. He notices her gaze towards the closed door.

"Don't even think about it. Ye ain't outrunning me so you best listen to me here. You understand?"

The quivering botanist shakes her head quickly in response.

"Flower gurl. Can ye read?"

"...yes." she responds, having done a mental takeback from the absurdity of the question.

He drops his weapons before plopping himself down to the floor with a thud. He fidgets around getting into a comfortable position before handing over the tarnished box to Claudette. Letting out a heavy sigh, he follows up, "I'd reckon so. I need yer skills to read me that book dere. "

Claudette opens the box and peers into its content, a scuffed children's book with most of the title streaked. She could make out a few letters yet it remains illegible. The only illustration provided on the cover is one of a duckling? The color has long faded, making details hard to decipher.

She reaches down to grab the-

"Tear a single page and I gut ye like a pig."

She reaches down and carefully brings the book to her lap in a slow motion. Claudette opens the book and begins reading the first line. "It was lovely summer weather in the country...".

She continues on to read about a duckling ostracized from his siblings and mother for looking different. Being considered 'ugly' by the other animals the ugly duckling leaves. Claudette quickly recognizes the old fairy tale, continuing on with the reading despite her dry throat. The familiar tale follows the duckling's longing for acceptance, meeting different characters only to be shunned further more. After enduring the harsh winter in a cave when spring arrives the duckling plans to drown himself in the lake to put himself out of misery. After turning the page Claudette panics to find the next page missing. She stops in a brief silence, looking back at the Hillbilly only for him to pull out the torn page from his coat. He gives her the last page before being entranced again by the story. Claudette finishes telling the happy ending of the ugly duckling, an illustration showing a happy moment.

"...I never dreamed of such happiness as this, while I was an ugly duckling."

Her eyes darted back to his face, gauging for a reaction. He remains still as a statue, his gaze not hinting the slightest of his intent. Not even his ragged breathing could be heard during the silence.

His hands tremble ever so slightly for a brief moment. He clenches his hands and lowers his head. A sniffle escapes his mouth, then his abnormal breathing returns. Claudette remains stunned at the display in front of her. She didn't know what to expect but it wasn't this... were killers capable of such emotions? It wasn't a foreign concept to them, it's been debated many times at the campfire if killers can feel anything else aside from bloodlust. Only few were expressive during the trials, either out of joy for the hunt or anger from their chases being thwarted by a stun. Most of the time they remained stoic, no amount of talking would drive them out of their focus.

For a moment Claudette forgets herself and everything around her, feeling empathy for the pain he must've endured. Out of instinct she reaches out her hand in order to comfort him. As she moves her hand toward his shoulder a huge hand grabs her by the wrist in a swift motion.

"Just what do ya think yer doing."

Claudette snaps back to reality, his piercing gaze strikes fear in her. That was stupid of her, comforting a killer, just what was she thinking. He's nothing but a monster.

"Answer me." He growls, tightening his grip on her wrist. He stands up to full height, raising her body in the air. Claudette cries out in pain.

"I-I only wanted to help is all! I promise, I really do please.". She's begging for him to let go of her, this strength is inhumane. She could feel the circulation to her hand being caught loose.

"Help?" His grip only tightens more. "I can handle myself just fine miss. Don'tcha dare mistake me for a fool. Ye really think I didn't take note of my missing screwdriver? Why, yer probably waiting to stab me hard with it aren'tcha."

Claudette's face grew pale. "T-That wasn't my intention at all I-I swear!!"

"Liar!", he yells as he pulls out the hidden screwdriver behind her back.

"I met pigs like ye, greedy snouts waiting to eat me clean of everything. My pride, my joy, my innocence. Yer just like them! Yer no different than my-" the raspy voice hitches, a brief pause to his outrage. He sees himself in the reflection of her glasses. His eyes dart to her expression, riddled with a familiar fearful expression. His anger subdues, finding no more fuel to burn it's raging flames. He lets go of his grip, dropping her to the ground. Claudette still remains stunned from the violent rollercoaster, craning her neck towards him. His eyes doesn't meet hers.

"Leave."

Without thinking twice Claudette shuffles on her feet before making a break for it, tripping once as she got up. The door swings open as she runs out in the cornfield.

Chapter Text

Without looking back Claudette sprints through the cornfield, pushing back every cornstalk in her way. Only minutes later does she stop upon reaching the forest. Finally taking a glance, it doesn't appear that he's chasing her. Finding the nearest tree she plops down to regain her breath; contemplating the roller coaster of emotions she's just experienced.
Holy shit.
Survivors are capable of visiting killers outside the trials. Can the killers reciprocate as well? Even so, there appears to be limits given no bloody massacre ever occurred in the campfire grounds. The thought that their only "sanctuary" is gone gives her goosebumps. Just when you think you've seen everything, the entity throws a wrench at her mundane morbid life. How will she reveal this discovery to the group, has anyone else found out? Her eyes wander to her bruised wrist. There's no way she'll be able to hide this. Claudette stands up and glances at the house afar one last time before heading back to the campfire. Mindlessly walking deep into the woods while in thought, hoping she'll make it.
Considering all that's happen, she was lucky enough to escape with just bruises. Quite a merciful act in this realm. Still, she can't understand his motives at all. The juxtaposition between his merciful act to the sudden violence. Clouded in deep thought she begins to fidget with her fingers. She can't recall what exactly must've set him off... was it the touch? It may be best to avoid triggering him again, if they even interact at all. She lowers her head and clasps her hands against her cheeks, ashamed for acting irrationally. She should know better given her time in the realm. Yet her empathetic nature is a fault she always remains guilty of. Her thoughts are snuffed by the sudden tug in her core. The entity is calling for her.
Sprinting at full speed she hurries to the campgrounds. The fog starts to clear up as a dim light is seen from afar. The campfire grounds. Claudette barley makes it in time before the trial begins. Taking a quick glance there's Dwight, Cheryl, and Yun-Jin . Dwight takes notices of her before his face contorts to that of worry after seeing her bruised wrist. Before he could ask, all four quickly vanish to begin the trial. Claudette feels amiss not bringing any items or offerings. Better on time than late though. Survivors in the past have tried avoiding the calling to the trials out of protest or fear. However, they always remain obedient in arriving on time after the first attempt. Some questioned their sudden change, confused by the scarred looks on their faces. Not one has told us what happens if they try to avoid the trial. No further questions were asked. As the black fog starts to dissipate, Claudette recognizes the familiar green murky hue and the landmark. Gas Heaven.

Claudette opens her eyes surrounded by a dark fog. After taking a few steps, she leans against a nearby tree to regain her composure. Soon she starts making her way towards the campfire. A pounding headache hits her hard. Recalling her steps, she remembers just barley escaping the Hillbilly before making her way back. And then... there was...the trial. That's right, it was at Autohaven Wreckers. Taking a seat beside the fire, she embraces the peace to allow her headache to subside. She was sacrificed. There's no rush to remember the details, some of them eventually do come back over time. The others can fill her in, if any escape. Next to her David sat stoic in front of the fire while Yun-Jin stared at the embers. Seems they didn't make it either.

It's not long before Dwight can be seen limping from the distance. Claudette quickly rushes to his aide, carrying his arm over her shoulder.

"You escaped. Who was it?"

"Doctor."

That explains the throbbing headache.

Dwight groans as Claudette helps him settle down near the fire. She veers over to a pile of med kits. She tends to his wounds in the same methodical practice, cleaning the wound with any antiseptic before suturing the wound shut.

"Claudette I've been meaning to ask, what happened to your wrist beforehand?"

Claudette shuffles a bit, unreluctant to answer, "Can we delay this topic for a bit, I'm not in the mood. Tell me, what happened during the trial?"

Dwight sighs, "Not much of a success. Sure we got all generators completed but only I made it out of the exit gate. There wasn't really any time to heal, I made the call that we finish the last gen over healing."

Her face sours, she can tell where this is going.

"While we did finish fast, it wasn't without sacrifice. With David having been sacrificed at 2 gens, you were on death hook being chased while Yun-Jin and I split. I'm sure you know how the rest of it played out."

Claudette nods in response, quietly finishing up her patchwork.

"You seem to have gotten better at containing him though despite the injury" Dwight comments, eyeing her now healed wrist. "Thank you." she responds while packing the med kit. She fidgets knowing what's next.

"...Really though, what-"

"If we're going to discuss this can we at least do so far from here?" she spoke in a hushed whisper.

Dwight nods, the two get up and venture off towards the deep trenches of the woods. Her back against the bark, she shuffles into a comfortable position.

". . . I've met the Hillbilly."

"You what."

Claudette drops her head in shame, braiding the blades of grass at her feet. "I visited him. I, after he let me go I saw something in the woods. I followed it until I came across the farm. He found me and made me read a book to him. He was crying, and I. I comforted him. He harmed me in response and I ran away." Despite the heavy weight lifted off her chest, another one appears worrying how he'll react. Too nervous to see, she only turns her head to gauge his reaction after a minute of silence. To her surprise, Dwight remains calm, deep in thought.

"You're taking this rather well."

"Well you aren't the only one who's done so."

What.

Dwight scratches his head, "Well so far from what I've know regarding this journal" he pulls out behind him a tethered journal full of tabs, "The fog is an organic system that can be manipulated. How one goes about doing so is unclear, I haven't finished reading the journal yet. It only lists past accounts of survivors experience such phenomenon."

Organic? That caught her attention. Astonished, Claudette asks, "Just where did you get this mystery journal?"
"Pure luck really. I've noticed the blight sometimes carries it around his person during trials and managed to snag it when he dropped it." he flips to the beginning, "Vigo's Journal".
During his ramblings a glimmer of hope is seen in his eyes, something Claudette hasn't seen in a long time. To think when they first met he was nothing more than a stammering anxious mess scared of everything. Seeing him now as a shell accustomed to the misery, most of his insecurities washed away. To what extent is she herself still the same. It doesn't feel like she's changed much when she reverts back to old habits.

"Claudette I need a favor from you."

"Yeah?"

"Can you go back to Coldwind Farm?"

Claudette profusely starts shaking her head as the Dwight is on his knees begging. "Please Claudette! You're the only one lead I have so far. I'll pay you with everything I have; all my med kits, flashlights, toolboxes, take them all!"
"No-nonononono, no way I'm going back after barley escaping by the neck my hide."
"It's our best shot at escaping this hell."
Claudette stops dead in her tracks, eyeing Dwight in disbelief. Having caught her attention, he continues, "If you can train this ability of yours to visit realms, it'll be a step closer in finding an exit. I know you aren't quite fond of him" Claudette's face sours, "But you might have an easier time with him compared to the other killers. No need to talk to him, just see what you can find at his realm while investigating how the fog works. I know I don't know much but it's better than nothing no? You won't be alone in this, I plan to share these findings with the others as well. We'll get through this together."

Claudette turns her face away from Dwight, she feels uneasy in trusting this new hope. It's already enough she suffers everyday through physical pain, she's not sure if she can handle more psychological pain. She's nearing her limit at is.

After a few minutes of silence, Dwight awaits eagerly awaits her response.

"I'll do it."

"Thank you Claud!" Just as he reaches in for a hug he stops himself, Claudette flinches a little. "My bad, I forgot you don't do hugs."
"It's fine" she responds, grateful he still remembers unlike other people.

Just then a thought comes to mind.

"Dwight, what happened to the survivors before us,"

He freezes, unsure of how to respond to that question until, "I-I'm not sure. I didn't want to read any further on that." His body suddenly tenses up. "I have to go."

Just as Dwight wipes off the dirt off his pants, he remarks, "Good luck." Before making his way to the campfire.
"You too" Claudette replies before walking the opposite direction.

Minutes of aimlessly wandering leads to nothing. After 10 minutes walking in the same direction she circles back to the campfire, only to turn around and keep trying. Just what has she done last time? Then, he comes back to mind. Not only has he let her escape not once but twice, despite his violent tendencies. She doesn't understand why now is different, he hasn't had trouble murdering her by hand countless times till now. The thought of the chainsaw brings some unpleasant memories from the phantom pain. Suddenly the hue in the bark starts to shift gradually to the familiar sunny sight, Coldwind Farm. She's somehow traveled back to this wretched place again. Was it from her thinking about the place? Claudette makes a mental note to test out that theory later. Standing by the tree she finds herself unable to move. Her arms tremble slightly and her feet carry a heavy weight. Even so, she takes her first step and enters the cornfield.