Chapter Text
Blood from Geoff’s slit throat oozed into a crevice in the concrete, a sticky red stream. Matt watched it in a haze.
“Matt?” Jeremy’s voice pulled him back to earth. “Matt, say something if you’re still alive.”
“I’m… alive.” The words felt like foreshadowing. Matt swallowed. “Geoff isn’t, though. H-he wasn’t faking it.”
Slit throat. Like his last scream had been sliced out.
“Okay, okay, I get it now.” There was an unnerving edge to Lindsay’s voice. “It took me a minute to catch up, but I see. Matt’s the killer, Geoff somehow found out and wanted to see him sweep it. So he framed me. Guess I can’t blame you for knowing an opportunity when you see it, Matt. Bravo.”
Matt’s knees wobbled as he stumbled back from the corpse. Up until this point, he’d been able to pretend that there was no killer. Now, staring at Geoff’s slit throat, he couldn’t pretend anymore.
Every horror story he’d ever heard about the Wildcat came crashing into his chest.
Jeremy sighed. “That’s a stretch. Even for Geoff.”
Matt covered his mouth to muffle his own breathing. He… he shouldn’t stay near the body. Not after he’d announced to everyone, including Lindsay, that he’d just found it. They could be tracking him down right now.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Doolmeister, I’m not killin’! It’s either you or Matt!”
Matt scampered down the hall, barely registering direction. All that mattered was putting more distance between himself and Geoff’s still-warm body.
“Agh, this is a fine pickle!” Gavin griped. “How am I supposed to pick which of you three to shoot? On the one hand, it’s obviously Lindsay–”
“It’s obviously not!”
“–but on the other hand, I could kill Matt. Mmm. I could kill Matt.”
At least a bullet would be quick, Matt thought numbly. He was used to that. He’d been shot to death before. If Gavin cornered him in one of these dusty little corridors and aimed the loaded gun between his eyes, at least…
Oh wow, his hands were shaking.
“Gavin.” Jeremy spoke patiently. “I’ve been very well-behaved for Matt’s first game. I think we can all agree on that, right? I’m not being weird and protective.”
“You’re really letting him spread his wings,” Lindsay agreed.
“But Gavin, listen: if you kill Matt for no goddamn reason, I’ll strangle you. I will find you and strangle you.”
Gavin twittered. “Ooooh, promises!”
“And also, can we talk about why I’m on your list of people to shoot?”
“Well, you’re always a little shifty, Jeremy. Can’t be too careful.”
“Hm, touché.”
Gears turned in Matt’s brain. No, it wasn’t going to be okay if Gavin shot him. Not for Gavin. Not for Jeremy. Matt would wake up back in the respawn room, safe and sound with friends and cookies, but Gavin would be snapping on a pair of handcuffs.
And there would be no one left to protect Jeremy from Lindsay.
The sound of footsteps almost stopped his heart.
Run, said part of his body, but far too little of it. He couldn’t wrench his feet off the floor: a combat stance had claimed and rooted them. Fight, said his limbs and lungs, and they wouldn't listen to his pounding heart.
Before Matt’s survival instincts could reach a consensus, Jeremy rounded the corner. Fight flashed through their panicked eyes as they mirrored Matt’s flinch, their hand flying to their belt as if for a weapon they didn’t have.
“Matt—” Jeremy held up their hands, catching their breath. “It’s me. It’s okay.”
Matt’s legs nearly gave out in relief. “I-I thought you were Lindsay,” he confessed. Instead of collapsing downward, he seemed to collapse forward, toward Jeremy.
As soon as he did, Jeremy stepped back.
“You–” Matt’s stomach dropped. “You believe it’s not me, right?”
The pause was too long. Jeremy’s breath was too audible.
“No, it’s– it’s not me!” Matt wished his voice sounded more trustworthy. “Lindsay’s grabbing at straws because they got caught, that’s all!”
“Careful, Jeremy.” Lindsay’s voice could have sliced paper. “This isn’t a mistake you want to make.”
“You know me, Jeremy, you can tell when I’m lying!”
Jeremy took a breath. “I also know you’re a good liar.” They let the breath out slowly. “But… I don’t want it to be you.”
Matt took a cautious step closer. “Great, we’ll both be happier if you assume it’s not me.” He bit his lip. “Can we stick together?”
“That’s risky.” Jeremy sounded like they’d rather say anything else.
“I just– it would be great if I didn’t get stabbed.”
That seemed to wear down the last of Jeremy’s resistance. They placed a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “As long as I’m alive, I won't let Lindsay stab you."
Matt melted.
“I’m hanging out with Matt,” Jeremy announced to the group. “If I die, then…” They sighed. “...then color me impressed because Lindsay was right, it’s Matt.”
“Enjoy your early death, Dooley. That’s what you get for not believing me.”
Jeremy winced. “Come on, we should keep moving.”
Matt followed as Jeremy led him down the dusty hall, but his hair was standing on end. Why wasn’t Lindsay admitting it? He didn’t like this angle they were taking. This Matt-accusing angle.
… Jeremy believed that he wasn’t the killer, right?
What if Jeremy was just keeping him close so they could assemble a gun? …What if they already had a gun?
Jeremy held an arm out suddenly. “Something’s up ahead.” Their voice was hushed.
Matt froze in place. "Killer?" He mouthed the word more than said it.
"Maybe. I… smell blood."
Insanely, Jeremy crept forward. Matt chewed his tongue to muffle expletives as he followed.
The hallway opened up into another storage room. Sprawled in a pool of blood lay Michael.
Jeremy let out a long breath. "Stale kill."
Matt knelt down by the body. He had to know. Sure enough, there it was on Michael’s battered jacket: a single long red hair, shimmering in the dim light.
“Geoff didn’t lie.” Matt’s heart was thumping. “He didn’t lie, it’s– it’s Lindsay. That’s their hair.” He looked up at Jeremy. “Believe me now?”
Jeremy was staring at the body in horror. “I believe you!”
“This is bad, right? Killer Lindsay?”
With a tense breath, Jeremy leaned closer to the body. "Looks like a clean kill. That'll change."
“The kills will stop being clean?”
“The last few kills… well, with all the time in the world, they get to be special.” Jeremy stole a glance at Matt. "Don’t worry, no one’s going to hurt you in your first game. You'll get a quick death even if you're the last one left."
"This might sound strange," Matt said dizzily, "but that's still terrifying."
“Then let’s keep you alive.” Jeremy hesitated, then lowered their voice. “Listen… if Lindsay finds us, I want you to run and leave me behind, okay? I’ll hold them off.”
“With what ? Neither of us have a gun!”
Jeremy didn’t flinch. “I know how to keep them entertained.”
A chill ran down Matt’s spine. “Please tell me this is a sex thing.”
“It’s not a sex thing.”
“Well. Shit.” Matt didn’t have the guts to turn the offer down. “Let’s just try to avoid Lindsay, okay?”
“Hey Jeremy, it can be a sex thing if you want,” Lindsay offered sweetly. Their voice sharpened to a snarl. “But you’re shit out of luck if you wanna get killed because I don’t have the fucking knife!”
“Why are they still denying it?” Matt hissed.
“I stopped trying to make sense of Lindsay’s strategizing long ago.” Jeremy strode away from Michael’s body. “Come on, we shouldn’t stay in one place.”
An icy trickle of doubt was creeping through Matt’s chest. Something felt wrong. Geoff had no reason to lie, and that long red hair couldn’t belong to anyone else. Jeremy must know that, they’d seen the evidence with their own eyes. That had to be Lindsay’s hair.
“Gavin?” Jeremy sounded on edge. “Any time you feel like ending the game, that would be great.”
It would have been so reassuring if Jeremy had named the target as Lindsay.
“Can’t hit what I can’t bloody find!”
“Gavin, don’t you point that gun at me, you’ll fuck over everyone! You’ve gotta shoot Matt!”
Matt found himself lagging behind as they stepped into a cavernous storage room. It had to be Lindsay’s hair. Jeremy had to know that. If Matt closed his eyes, the Wildcat flashed in his vision. Their hair was the right length, dyed the right shade, vibrant crimson and…
… Jeremy’s fingers combing through it while the two of them kissed, perhaps tugging loose a single strand…
Matt froze in his tracks. Jeremy was mere feet in front of him, proximity that was suddenly chilling.
What if Jeremy knew from the start that Matt wasn’t the killer?
“Steady on.” Gavin’s voice was suddenly a tense whisper. “Is someone there?”
“Gavin?” Matt’s voice rasped. “I think. I think you should meet up with us.”
Jeremy turned around. Their familiar gaze shouldn’t feel so harrowing. “I told you, that’s risky. If we’re in a group, the killer could take us all out at once.”
Don’t flinch. Don’t step back. Matt quivered in place. “We know who the killer is, right?” If he didn't keep his voice steady, he was dead. “The two of us can stay safe behind Gavin. Maybe we can pool our parts, get another gun.”
“Unless one of you is the killer!”
Jeremy threw their hands up. “We know it’s Lindsay!”
“Eat my ass!” Lindsay barked.
“Since Geoff isn’t here, I’ll say it: behave!”
“We’re in the eastern storage room with all the barrels,” Matt pressed, praying Gavin was still listening. “Gavin, you said you’d protect me, right? I really think we should all meet up.”
Jeremy stepped closer. “It’s all right.” They lowered their voice, pillow-soft, a voice Matt wanted to trust. “I’ll protect you while Gavin’s not here.”
Matt’s heart thumped in his throat. If Jeremy was the killer, then they wouldn’t have left him alive this long, right? Except…
The last few kills… well, with all the time in the world, they get to be special.
A loud shriek over the coms jolted his heart out of his chest.
“Got you!”
Lindsay’s voice had the frantic breathlessness of a full sprint. “Gavin, you’re gonna throw the game, don’t do it!”
“Hold still!”
“Gavin, hold your fire!” Matt pressed his com to his ear urgently. “Whatever you do, don’t shoot Lindsay!”
Jeremy was starting to give him a strange look. Matt’s heart crawled up his throat and gripped his tongue. He’d said too much.
Gavin spat out a squeaky collection of syllables that might have been intended as cuss words. “I’ve got them on the run! Give me one good reason not to fire!”
“Because…” Matt’s voice was growing distant. “Because Jeremy’s the killer.”
The heavy words hung in the dusty space between them. Jeremy didn’t flinch, giving Matt the same inscrutable look. Lindsay shouted something over coms, but Matt wasn’t listening anymore. The air stretched thin.
Finally, Jeremy broke the silence with a tired laugh. They tapped their com, muting themself.
“You know…” Jeremy dipped a hand into their pocket. “As soon as I saw this in my box, I knew I was fucked.”
In front of Matt’s wide eyes, Jeremy pulled out a knife. A real, sharp, metal knife. A rusty-red stain clung to the steel, as though it had been wiped off in a hurry.
Jeremy’s smile was reverent. “You just know me too well, don’t you?”
Matt stared at the weapon, scarcely breathing. He’d never fully appreciated the structure before, the narrow tip and the honed edge, a stout handle to channel the whims of a human hand. An unforgiving tool designed to slice meat. Today, he was the meat, and the intimate details of the knife swallowed his vision.
That blade had killed Michael. Killed Geoff. It was about to kill him.
“You can run, you know.” Jeremy stepped towards him slowly, no rush. Dim lights glinted off the edge of the knife. “That’s not against the rules.”
Matt swallowed. “You’ll catch me,” he whispered.
Jeremy nodded. “I will.”
“So… I m-might as well…”
The human body was resilient. It wouldn’t go down quickly unless the killing blow was efficient. Matt didn’t want Jeremy to do anything… inefficient.
Jeremy placed a hand on his shoulder. Matt’s whole body felt light, as if he was already separating from it.
“Don’t worry.” Jeremy’s voice was gentle. They lifted the knife, holding it between their bodies like a promise. “You won’t feel a thing. I said I would take care of you, remember?”
Matt nodded shakily. At least it was Jeremy. At least the hand on his shoulder was familiar, even as steel touched his throat.
“Close your eyes.”
Breath snagged in Matt’s throat as if the knife was holding it there. He obeyed wordlessly.
A gunshot split the dusty air. Jeremy's hand slipped off Matt's shoulder.
For a few seconds, Matt didn’t dare open his eyes. Jeremy’s final command clung to him. But when he heard footsteps, he had to see.
Jeremy was gone. But across the room was Gavin, still aiming his gun at the air that used to be Jeremy.
“You…” Words were returning to Matt slowly. “You believed me?”
Gavin blew nonexistent smoke off his gun and holstered it in his belt. “Didn’t I say I’d protect you, lad?”
Matt jolted as something touched his throat, only to realize it was his own fingertips. Caressing uncut skin. Whole.
“We won,” he breathed.
“You didn’t race like it was your first time.” Gavin’s smile was only a little teasing. “Even though it was.”
Matt wasn’t sure how it happened, didn’t remember moving his legs, but suddenly he was hugging Gavin and laughing like a madman. Gavin went stiff as a beanpole, then flung his arms around Matt.
“We won .” Matt said it louder this time. “I won my first game!”
Over the coms, Geoff roared with laughter. “That’s a win for the bystanders! God damn, nicely done!”
“Matt!”
Matt pulled away from Gavin just in time to get an armful of Lindsay. They laughed into his shoulder, squeezing him reassuringly tight.
“You saved me from certain death by Gav!” They pulled back, grinning wide, but held his shoulders. “How’d you know? I thought–”
“Things were going too well.” Matt wasn’t sure if he was making any sense, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “It just… it had to be Jeremy.”
Something fell into place. As Matt stared at Lindsay in wonder, he realized that he would have gotten this same smile, this same hug, even if Lindsay had been the killer.
His thoughts were interrupted by a far more familiar voice.
“You goddamn son of a bitch, Matt Bragg.”
The sound of Jeremy’s voice felt like sunshine on his face.
Lindsay ruffled Matt’s hair. “He’s a natural!”
“You were right, though,” Matt told the com, dizzy with glee. “I really didn’t feel a thing.”
Laughter rippled across the coms, echoed off the high ceiling. Even Jeremy was laughing. Especially Jeremy.
Jeremy…
This was strange, wasn’t it? Speaking to them over the coms, reaching across a vast distance, when that familiar hand had been on his shoulder moments ago. They’d been right here. In a way, Matt supposed, they were still here.
On the floor.
Just behind him…
Gavin’s grip tightened on Matt's shoulder before he could turn, holding him in place.
“Steady on, the game's over now. How about we have a little stroll and keep talking to our friends?”
Giddy warmth swelled in Matt’s chest. The game was over, the gun obsolete, but Gavin was still protecting him. Matt was starting to believe that he always would.
Lindsay slung an arm around his shoulders. “You’ve gotta tell us how you figured Jeremy out.”
Matt followed their collective guiding grip, away from the place he'd almost been killed. Away from the final murder of the game.
----
The warehouse drew back like curtains, and sunshine touched Matt’s face.
Before long, the familiar thrum of a helicopter overwhelmed the wind, birds, and even Gavin and Lindsay’s chatter. Matt smiled as that familiar green star swooped closer.
The warehouse wasn't really behind him until he saw Jeremy’s face.
The other Fakes seemed to understand Matt’s priorities. They parted to let him through until he could bury himself in Jeremy’s arms where he belonged.
“Can’t believe that was your first game.” Jeremy was still laughing. "You kicked ass!"
"Speak for yourself," Matt muffled against their shoulder, "you devious fucker, making Lindsay take the fall for…”
He trailed off. Old puzzle pieces, nearly forgotten, clicked into place.
“Hey–" Jeremy was breaking the hug. Matt must have been silent for a while. "You okay?”
Matt gripped Jeremy's shoulders. "I know how to stop the Vipers."