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Scott froze when he heard Ren let out a dying scream, his arm still in the middle of pulling back an arrow into his bow that he no longer needed to shoot. The brunette's throat was now suddenly missing a large chunk of it, the man falling the ground lifelessly as the brainless zombie tried to follow him down before uselessly falling off the hill. Scott stared at Ren's body —bloodied, battered, and absolutely covered in arrows that probably should have killed him instead of that zombie— for more than a few moments, like he was expecting him to get up and continue this exhausting cycle of chasing and fighting. But he didn't. Ren was dead. Scott was alive. Scott didn't even realize that he had dropped his bow and began leaning against the tree next to him until it had already happened. A breathless and broken laugh mixed with a sob tearing its way out of his throat. "There we go! Finally! Scott could barely recognize his own voice, hoarse and raspy. "The amount of arrows it took to finish him off– Good Void!" He doesn't know how long he spent leaned against that tree. Potentially hours of half-laughing, half-crying, and half trying to catch his breath. He stayed there until his hands stopped shaking so violently, now reduced to a small but still noticeable tremor. He looked towards the night sky, staring glinting above him brighter than normal... ...Why isn't anything happening? He was the final one standing, wasn't he? Wasn't the winner crowned when everyone had died?
Everyone...
Oh... he has to die.
Okay... guess this is how it'll end for him, wonderful.
Scott shakily climbs to the top of the hill, looking out at the landscape before him once he reaches the top. His hands carefully take the large glass bottle containing a baby axolotl off his belt. It was Cleo's axolotl, Binkie. Scott left Barry at home for safety and Pearl said Betty was shot and killed, he doesn't know what happened to Bucky and Barney and quite frankly he doesn't want to. Those two were given to Lizzie and Scar respectively, two late allies that were consumed by the red life bloodlust, two late allies now probably dead in the grass somewhere. Just like all his friends, just like he’ll be soon. "It's just me and you, Binkie..." The axolotl swims around in the water lazily. Scott opens the bottle and leans it up against a rock in a position where Binkie can either choose to get out or stay in the bottle. Scott walks towards the end of the hill, looking out at the sky before him. It's going to be okay; he’ll be with his Gs soon. Now... how is he going to do this? I mean, maybe this height is enough... Before Scott finish his train of thought, he's interrupted by the sound of a thunderclap and a white-hot searing pain. His vision swims as he grips his shoulder and falls to the ground. The only thing stopping him from eating dirt was his now injured arm instinctively catching himself, causing the muscles to spasm painfully. He didn't even register the screams and sobs he’s making until he realizes his throat is raw and his face is wet and It hurts, oh dear void, it hurts it hurts it hurts–
“You... Insolent little rebel.”
Thousands of voices overlapping into a haunting and angry symphony. Despite the anger, it sounded beautiful, inhumanly so. “You dare to defy us? Too ignore our call for blood?”
Scott tried to look around for the source, his vision blurry with tears and the scenery morphing together until he was surrounded by total darkness. “So honorable and selfless, you are, but only in your eyes.” Scott gasped as he felt a hand yanked up onto his knees by hair from behind, his eyes pinching shut in pain and his neck now straining at the painful angle. He’d honestly be surprised if he didn't end up with a chunk of his hair missing with how tight the grip was.
“In our eyes? You're an arrogant, defiant little mortal who can't even comprehend what he's dealing with. A player with enough hubris to lead to divine intervention.” The voices whispered in his ear, the words reverberating around his head. Divine intervention? “What– what are you?” Scott attempted to ask, his voice a barely audible and choked-up whisper before it disappeared into the void.
“You can ask our little bird, you’ll be seeing him very soon.”
He didn't even have time to question what that meant before a deathly cold hand reached from behind and covered his eyes. He tried to fight back, to squirm, to struggle. But he felt weak in the grip of his tormentors, utterly helpless. "What are you doing? Let go of me! –" The voices suddenly laughed at that; the sound was cruel and cold.
"Hush now, Star-child. This is your reward, and we can tell it's going to be delicious." a different choir of voices hummed as they roughly grabbed his face, but being careful enough that the other hand covering his eyes remained in place.
Memories, so many memories. He remembered flower fields and an unofficial marriage, he remembers carving the final touches into the wood of his home, he remembers twisting poppies and dandelions into flower crowns and putting them on Jimmy’s —his husband— head, he remembers getting chased down by The Red King and his Hand in the wood, he remembers getting held down and his throat cut as he bled out into the grass. He remembers being a teen in his gray Totoro hoodie, he remembers the stupid pranks, he remembers ruffling up Lauren's long galaxy color hair, he remembers watching young versions of Lizzie and Joel falling in love, he remembers a silly play-war between two friends... He remembers that this isn't his home, and he remembers why he isn't home. He was stolen, stolen by these beings and forced into this sick game. Everyone was stolen, ripped apart and thrown into different games and forced to tear each other apart. A wet sob ripped its way out of Scott’s throat before he could stop it, and the just Voices laughed; the sound was cruel and bitter.
“all that anguish and angry... You should be grateful, Star-child, this is the reward for your victory after all.” They mocked. He felt as the hand that was gripping his face let go, and the one that was covering his eyes disappeared in reaction, finally allowing him to see at least one of the Voices.
Scott froze when he locked eyes with one of the Voices many, not even being able to breath. Not out of fear, but because he physically couldn't. He was stuck in place. paralyzed and only able to gaze defenselessly onto the monster before him. Many sets of glowing eyes stared back at him, a dim purple glow illuminating. Everything else about the face was just a dark and inky nothingness. Their figure was draped in deep purple robes and was inhumanly tall, only made bigger by the ginormous wings that sprouted from their back with white and violet feathers that were unclipped and preened perfectly, something that was uncommon in all the wings he's seen before. Grian’s and Jimmy’s wings often were messy with dirt, and their feathers were cut cruelly short. He now remembers preening Jimmy’s wings while lounging next to the river, but the cleanliness never really stuck long with all the dirt and sand that was often kicked up while fighting.
“Don’t defy us again, little rebel.” The first set of voices spoke “unless you want to end up with a same treatment as your cursed beloved.”
Scott only felt the burning pain from the second thunderstrike hitting his spine before his vision went black.
Grian was pacing back and forth in the Winner's Void. He hated this, hated not knowing if or when the new winner would join him. Not knowing what the Watchers could be doing to the new winner, or if they were doing anything at all. Just as Grian reached the peak of his spiral, he heard a single thunderclap from behind. Turning around, he saw Scott. Now Scott winning wasn't surprising, the man was stone-strong force to be reckoned with. It was the state he was in that rattled the avian with concern.
He was unconscious, slumped against the invisible floor of the void. By the time Grian reached him, he also noticed that there were lightning scars visible across his shoulder and spine with it spreading to his neck and his wrist. Those scars weren't there before, and he knows for a fact who caused them. Grian sighed and carefully repositioned Scott into a more comfortable position. He’d be here when Scott woke up, and he’d be here to explain everything. All he could do now was wait.