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Stuck in a wasteland we covered in glitter and broadcast

[Charlie's risen from the dead again. Or maybe this time he didn't die. He's pretty sure he should have, with the amount of blood coagulating around him, matting the hair on the back of his head, but somehow he's awake.

He pushes the mass of wires and metal that did the damage off of his body. There's a knife-like claw in his shoulder, and when he touches it, he has to bite back a yelp of pain. Okay, definitely not moving that yet.

Everything fucking hurts. He's miserable, and he so desperately wants to just lay down and go back to sleep, but he can tell from the lack of movement that the facility has been shut down. Ranboo reached the button. That means they must have gotten out! Is there a chance he's waiting outside? Catching his breath, maybe, or just hoping someone else was able to escape as well. Grimacing, Charlie heads towards the exit-

He hears sobbing. It's muffled, off to the side, through a different exit. He can't help but worry, especially as he gets closer and can hear clearly who it is.]

Ranboo...?

[He hastens forward, and even with the amount of blood dripping from him, he can see... someone else was bleeding and went through here. He desperately hopes the carnage isn't from the Hero...

The Hero who is currently screaming.

Charlie starts running on instinct, stumbling into a room lit by cruel red screens. He can see Ranboo, tied down and skewered through the hands in some horrific Christ-like pose. Their head is restrained, trapped inside an... is that an iron maiden? They're begging, pleading for their death, and the one goading them on in what could be their last moments-

Fucking Hetch.

Before Charlie can think about the consequences, he's ripping the blade out of his shoulder, storming forward. Hetch turns away from the monitors, stammering out some protest, but Charlie ignores it. This bastard wanted a villain, and he'll give him a fucking villain.

When he comes to, his face feels wet with blood that isn't his, likely from Hetch's corpse that's now cooling beneath him, blood pooling from a cut in his neck. He grits his teeth, feeling a wave of exhaustion, but somehow holds himself upright, looking towards... Ranboo, still alive.]

Thank god... Ranboo, you're okay...

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[ 'Okay' is a pretty bold claim, considering the current state they're in. Every part of their body aches, their head ringing and frame still trembling. His breath is shallow and pained, face heated and stained with tears and blood, the same blood still filling his mouth from some yet-unidentified wound. Their hands flex where they're bound, pierced, a fresh wave of agony spreading up his arm, and...

... he's just so tired. He's so tired, and everything hurts so much, and he was so close to freedom and so close to death--

Ranboo's body sags in the bindings, and all they can do is sob. It wracks their body where it dangles, their narrow chest heaving with it, head tipped back and then dropped forward so that their broken mask clinks sharply against the edge of that-- that thing that they're trapped inside of.

But after a moment, what's just happened processes more fully, and Ranboo realizes whose voice they hear-- they swallow thickly, coughing, spitting up blood before calling out to him weakly. ]

Ch-- Charlie...?

['Okay' for the moment means 'not dead,' because that's really all Charlie can say about the two of them right now. His shoulder is burning from where he ripped the blade out, and he's cut his hand while he was wielding it. He's pretty sure the gash on his stomach is starting to scab over, maybe partially closed thanks to the pressure the wire monster put on his body once it was shut down, but he's lost a lot of blood, and as he staggers forward, he feels dizzy and sluggish. He blinks a few times, distantly concerned as he realizes his friend is still sobbing, and he moves up to them, one bloodied hand reaching out to try to comfort him.]

H-Hey... hey, Ranboo. I'm here. It's okay. I-I'm going to get you out. Just give me...

[He falls to his knees with a small grunt, too tired to hold himself upright anymore. Doesn't matter much, he can still reach the wires this way. He pushes forward and works on cutting Ranboo's hands free. He cuts through the ones piercing them, hoping that keeping the pieces dug into his skin will keep the wounds from bleeding too badly. He's working on the binds on the legs when his vision starts blurring.]

Oh, shit.

[ They continue to cry-- more quietly now, hiccuping and coughing up blood, but at least the hyperventilating seems to be easing off. They aren't sure what to say, or if they can even form words; his brain feels like it's been removed and wrung out, then placed back into his skull, dry and useless and empty. It's hard to change gears-- from begging and pleading for death, to suddenly being cut free, and-- is Hetch--? ]

Is he-- i-is he gone, did you... did you kill him? Did you kill Hetch...?

[ As long as Hetch is alive, he can't be free. As long as Hetch is alive, Ranboo would be better off dead, and honestly, even if Hetch isn't alive anymore, he still might be. After all, there's a whole organization underneath him.

... what's--? ]

Ch... Charlie...?

[Charlie takes a few gasps for air, trying desperately to clear his vision. God, he's so tired, but he knows for a fact that if he closes his eyes, he isn't going to open them again. He grits his teeth and pushes through, cutting away wires on Ranboo's legs and the biggest tangle of them around their waist.]

He's fucking dead. No way he's surviving that.

[He licks his lips and tastes iron, and it's only then that he seems to realize what he's done.]

Oh god. Y-Yeah. Yeah, he's definitely dead. I... definitely killed him.

[His laughter is quiet, but still unsettling in his own ears.]

Can you... can you move your head out, or do I need to find a latch?

[He uses one of the monitors to support himself as he painfully drags himself to his feet.]

[ Charlie gets his answer fairly quickly once the bindings fall away from Ranboo's waist and ankles; they collapse, a trembling, bleeding heap in front of Charlie. Fortunately, the box wasn't fixed to him in any way; it seems as if they built it specifically to suit Ranboo's height, so that they wouldn't be able to remove their head without being able to duck and bend down.

Hetch is dead. Hetch... is dead, this time for real. What does that mean? Does that mean that they're free? Or was this just an act, too? Is any of this real? Ranboo shudders, curling up painfully where they fell to the ground. ]

Do you think... think we're-- can we go, can we leave...?

[Oh thank god. Charlie eases himself back down to the floor, giving his exhausted limbs a rest, and assesses the damage. Ranboo looks... rough, barely like they could move at all, and Charlie certainly isn't in a state to carry him. He winces softly, but reaches out to hold Ranboo steady.]

Of course we can. They can't stop us anymore. We can-

[He cuts himself off with a coughing fit of his own, arms shuddering with a sudden chill.]

Fuck...

What if they-- what if the others... those-- things out there, what if they wake up...?

[ Ranboo is mumbling, half-conscious and terrified, and Charlie-- Charlie is... Ranboo can't see him, isn't sure just how badly he's hurt, but he's definitely injured.

Wrapping an arm around their aching ribs, Ranboo tries to pick himself up, breathing harsh through his bloodstained teeth as he slowly pushes himself to a sitting position. It hurts. What the hell did Hetch do to them? ]

Charlie-- Charlie, we gotta... we have to-- get out of here...

[ Ranboo's mind is still run ragged, their voice harsh and hoarse for their screaming and sobbing only moments before, but the sense of purpose at least gives them something to focus on, to push past what they just endured, at least for a moment. They feel extremely delicate, as if their bones are made of tissue paper, their nerves frayed and firing erratically, but there's a goal now.

He has to get up. They have to get out. ]

[The first thing they know is pain.

Throbbing in their head, the searing overhead lights directly in their eyes. They feel dizzy as they reach up and touch glass. They don't know where they are, but they know this much: they have to get out. Get out, before the mask activates again.

Pushing on the glass, they feel it give way, opening up with a mechanical hiss. They're almost surprised there was no puzzle to solve to get it open. But for better or worse, they're loose, and they crawl out of the bizarre pod they seem to have been stored in.

The room they're in is strange, even for what they're used to. It was clean--no, sterile, with hulking, complicated machines hooked up to the pod he'd been squirreled away in. They wander over to the screen of one of them, breathing coming in a little uneven, as if he himself wasn't quite used to his own lungs yet. They try to make sense of what they're looking at, something about another version of the "Hero", when they hear voices and their head snaps to attention.

The voices. They sound familiar. They sound distressed. Before he knows it, he finds his feet moving towards them, footsteps echoing in the hallway. He knows he should be more cautious, but for some reason, he can't help being driven forward. He hears panicked shuffling. Are they trying to leave, or are they being taken?

They speed up, and come upon a scene they never could have predicted in a million years, bringing them to a dead stop. Frozen, they choke out their first words.]

What...what's going on?

[Ranboo had seen the blood, the body of Hetch. The horrible contraption with the box. The cameras, still rolling. Charlie, bloodied and beaten down. But the thing holding his undivided attention...was the mirror image of himself, mask and all, standing before him.]

[This is bad. This is really fucking bad. He's lost way too much blood, and without Showfall running the show, there's no way he's going to survive this. He can feel Ranboo jostling him around, trying to get them up to their feet, but it feels numb... His body feels numb and cold, and no matter how much Ranboo or his own mind pleads with him, he just can't move.

He's trapped. He's frozen in place, like he has been so many times before. A puppet with his strings cut. He lifts his head, mumbling something at Ranboo about dropping him, leaving him behind, he can hear footsteps and he knows that's probably an employee that's figured out what's happened, so Ranboo has to get out-

There's another voice. So painfully familiar, even if he doesn't know what they're asking. He's dying, Ran. You got that much, right? Just leave him behind...

But when he lifts his head again, his eyes adjust, and past the version of Ranboo struggling to pick him up off the floor... is another, watching the scene in horror.]

Ranboo... what the fuck?

[ Ranboo stops short in their efforts to lift both themselves and Charlie from the floor, follows Charlie's gaze. What little strength he'd managed to scrape together falters, his veins icing over as he takes in the sight of what's in front of him. They drop back to the floor, almost numbed by the sight, the shock whiting the edges of their swaying vision and making their head swim as if they might pass out. ]

... what... the fuck?

[ Their voice is small and shaking. They don't know what to do. They don't know what to say.

This isn't real. It can't be. But the mask is still shut off. Then again, did that ever mean anything? Was that just another lie? Ranboo wants to dig their nails into their scalp and rip their hair out, to run and run and run until their legs give out once and for all, to scream, but they can't. He can't move.

This isn't real. This isn't real. God, why couldn't he just die and be done with this? Why couldn't Hetch have hurried up and killed him?

A fresh sob tears its way from his ragged lungs. It's all they can muster in their confusion and horror. ]

[It's difficult to breath. It's difficult to think. What...why were they looking at themselves right now? What did this mean? They reach up and start to pull at their own hair as their other so desperately wants to.

That's when it clicks. The pod, the screen describing some sort of 'second Hero' project. They weren't being stored, they were being made. They weren't real. He wasn't real. He was the toy Showfall always wanted out of Ranboo.]

Oh, no. No no no no no no.

[They take a few steps back in their panic, anxiously pacing in place, desperately trying to figure out what to do about this. But when they look at the two in front of them again, these battered, bruised men with horrible memories they don't even want to know about, it's obvious what they should do.

They rush forward suddenly, hands on the original Ranboo's shoulders in as comforting a manner as they can manage while still having a panic attack.]

Hey, hey, no, come on--we've got to get you guys out of here before someone dangerous shows up.

[He has no idea if they'll trust him. If they don't, he honestly can't blame them. But as the only physically well person in the room, he has to at least try to help them.]

[Is he seeing double? He has to be. He knocked his glasses off, probably, or he's hallucinating. Ranboo's mask is off, and Charlie knows the headphones were mostly what was keeping him under control, but surely this is just another filter.

He cries out when Ranboo drops him, but even through the flare of pain, he can still see two of them. There's no filter there.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He doesn't have enough time to think about what this all means. The other Ranboo is rushing forward, trying to help their double up, and despite the harsh mask obscuring their features, Charlie wants to believe they're earnest. They always have been too damn kind for their own good.]

Ran, i-it's okay. Let's go. We... You need to get out, you- they're right-

[He stumbles over words, noting through his fuzzy brain that it sure is hard to differentiate between two of the same person. Somehow, he thinks he should have come up with a plan for this. What a weird thought.]

What the hell is... going on...?

[ For a moment, Ranboo is entirely swallowed by their distress and confusion; it blankets and smothers everything else in their mind, any kind of sense or reason. Because it makes no sense. There is no reason. This can't be real. There can't be another of them.

That's... that's not him. Right? That's the easiest explanation. It looks like them, but it's not. Maybe beneath the mask they're totally different. Ranboo tries to calm down their breathing, to focus on Charlie's voice, distant as it seems through their swimming, overlapping thoughts.

Out. Get out... they can do that. There's a chance.

Ranboo doesn't look at the other. He doesn't want to. He just wants to keep believing this is someone else impersonating him. It's easier like that. And the alternative just doesn't make any sense at all. After a moment of catching their breath, steadying themselves, Ranboo nods their head slowly, tries to shift to get their feet beneath them. ]

... okay. Let's-- let's go. Let's just go.

Yeah. Yeah, you got it. You got it.

[Ranboo can believe whatever he wants if it means his clone is allowed to help him. He has to help them. Charlie, too. The need there is suddenly desperate, almost palpable.

Showfall couldn't get away with this.

The moment the word is given, Ran is off their knees, moving between the two broken men and lifting them to the best of their ability. Which, they find, is bizarrely easier than they expected. Not that they have time to consider why, busy pulling the two of them to their feet.]

C'mon, all together.

[That's all the warning they give before they start to drag to pair out of the room to search for safety--or a first aid kit. Whatever came first.]

[Charlie will just process all of this later, thanks. He's already learned enough horrific things about his life here, so what's one more, really?

He's just not going to think about it. He's not going to think about Ranboo begging for death in a saw trap just minutes before this second Ranboo appeared, because if he does, he's going to throw up, and that's really not going to be pretty with his stomach slashed open. He just needs to find a way out-]

Whoa!

[Before he can think of steeling himself against the exhaustion and pain, he's suddenly dragged up to his feet, being half carried by the second Ranboo's arm around his shoulders. When did they get so strong? Of course, he's the only one who's uninjured out of the three of them, but even so, carrying two people's weight can't be an easy task. Ranboo barely seems to blink, though. Was that... thanks to Showfall?]

Head back... there was another exit to the right.

[ Ranboo is silent as they're hauled from the floor by their double, but the shock reads clearly enough in the jolt that passes through their frame. That's--

... did they make a better copy of-- no, no, this isn't a copy, this is another person. This is just another person with a similar build who happens to be very strong. Ranboo's mind refuses to accept that this could be a copy, that that's even a possibility. Because it isn't.

It's all they can do to cling to the newcomer, to let Charlie lead the charge; they're too drained, physically and emotionally, too badly damaged to even properly register the layout of the room that they're in. That may be for the best, given what room it is that they just nearly died in. ]

Right. Okay. Got it.

[The clone-boo immediately, but cautiously reroutes them; mindful of how hurt their two 'passengers' are right now. They're the only one of sound body in this fucked up little group, which makes them the responsible one.

The weight of that realization is crushing.

They were legitimately only just 'born', loaded up with someone else's memories, and now they were thrust into being the one responsible for saving the very people he was meant to 'replace'. It was a suffocating duty, and they already felt as if they were drowning in the confusion of it all. But, if he can't save these two, if he can't do something to get them out--they're back to being just a toy for Showfall.

Showfall had toyed with enough lives.

Fury at their own creation driving them forward, Ranboo sets off towards the exit, determined and angry. These two would get out, even if it meant their own survival got jeopardized in the process.]

[God, this is a mess. One Ranboo's gone silent, and the one carrying them is tense, their emotions already frayed. Which would be expected if they just woke up to this mess. And if they really were created... how in the hell is Charlie supposed to help them through this?

Just... get them outside first. After that, they can panic all they'd like. Charlie looks around, but the employees that had stormed through the area before seem to have disappeared.]

I think the coast is clear. Not much further, okay? We're gonna be okay. We're gonna make it.

[He's trying to sound reassurance, but he's not sure how convincing he sounds when his voice is hoarse and his throat is half clogged with blood.]

[ Their silence is born much more of pain and exhaustion than anything else; they're still at least mostly-conscious, but too worn down, too numb to have all that much to say.

Being "rescued" hasn't done anything to wipe away the agony of what they were experiencing just before. The horrible, horrible fear and pain, being faced with the choice of eternity as a puppet or destruction, the sudden horrible realization that there was no chance for them to ever have a life outside of Showfall... the fact that the decision wasn't even in their own hands to begin with.

How much of this escape is real? None of the previous escape attempt was. Is this another trick? Another plot twist for the show? Ranboo can't summon the energy to cry out anymore, to plead for death. So they hang almost limp in the grasp of this shadow of themselves, quiet other than the occasional pained whimper when they're held at an angle that isn't particularly kind to their severe wounds. ]

[As much as they don't want to harm their original, they don't have time to be overly considerate. They needed to get these two out.

Following Charlie's instructions, they practically drag the pair into the adjacent hallway and start heading down it.]

Charlie.

[It almost feels wrong to address him by that name, like they don't have the right. Like they hadn't earned it. After all, they have no real connections to anyone. They're completely fabricated.]

Keep an eye out for anything that could help with your wounds. You're both in bad shape.

[It's not as if he himself isn't searching, but, his main focus is on finding this exit.]

[He doesn't know what to do. He's supposed to be torn in half by a weird nightmare wire creature, he's supposed to be dead, and the shows are supposed to start all over again. That's what he knows to handle. Not all this. He's not prepared to save two people that he instinctively cares for, especially not when he can't put a finger on why. He's feeling too drained to keep this up, even when escape is so damn close.

But the part of him that cares too much wins out. Maybe because it's something the real version of him would want? Is he real? Is it even worth asking those fucking questions right now?

He hears one Ranboo whine softly, and another speak his name like it's too fragile to even breathe out, and he finds some energy that he doesn't know he had left. He scans the area as they're limping along, and spots what looks like a first aid station in a little branch off of the hallway, probably leading to an employee space or something like that. He doesn't hear anything down that corridor, so maybe...]

Over there. Gotta be some disinfectant and stuff in the kit.

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Stuck in a wasteland we covered in glitter and broadcast

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