SLIME_2BE

Steven wasn’t just a pro R.E.P.O. player—he was a world-record-breaking speedrunner, known by his tag: ULTS. His runs were flawless, his knowledge of every glitch and ghost encounter unmatched. But after a real-life expedition into a property that eerily mirrored one of the game’s most infamous levels, he barely made it out alive—dragging a half-conscious kid with him.

That was the day ULTS stopped playing for fame… and started playing for keeps.

The Legend of ULTS

The truck slammed into the building's wall with a deafening crunch, its metal frame groaning as it toppled onto its side. The impact left the squad's android bodies dented and sparking, but only Miles was severely damaged, his left foot with a clean cut from their last mission.

Raf's voice trembled as he clutched a bent shelf for support. "What now, Steven? How are we supposed to buy health packs or upgrades? This place is going to be crawling with monsters!"

Mark kicked a shattered monitor, its screen flickering with static. "Oh, and our friend is back." He remembered Steven's face stretched over the clown's face.

Miles slumped against the truck's ruined interior, his usual smirk gone. "I'm dead weight now. Leave me. I'll… try to fix the truck." His vocal glitch made it sound like a lie. "Sorry, Steven. I just... I had plans, you know? Big ones. Not… this. Not to be in this stupid game..."

Steven's optics dimmed. "We're stronger together. Miles, stay with the truck. The rest of us will scout the store."

The back door creaked open, revealing shattered glass and debris littering the floor. Above them, scrawled in flaking red liquid, were the words:

"NEVER TRUST YOUR FRIENDS."

The trio was slightly disturbed, but continued to move in formation, crouched, silent. Exploring the room, they found only empty shelves and echoing footsteps. Room after room repeated the same nightmare:

Empty registers with drawers torn out.

Flickering fluorescent lights that hummed like dying insects

One exit door that always led to an identical space.

"Steven," Raf whispered, "looks like we're going in circles..."

In his place stood the clown, its Steven-stretched face grinning with too many teeth.

<<Mark's POV>>

I was following behind them as they went to the other room, the lights didn't work in the building so it was very dark, and their built-in flashlights were not working for some reason. The next room, was very dark, but as he stepped in, he didn't see Raf and Steven. One second, he was following Steven; the next, he stood in a white room with no doors, surrounded by live feeds of their past horrors.

A child's giggle echoed. "Welcome, Cyrix. Or… should I call you Mark?"

The glitching boy from the library materialized, his smile stretching unnaturally. "Let's make a deal. Give me the clown's orb, and I'll send you home.😃"

The boy flickered nose-to-nose with him, a stubby hand passing through Mark's throat. "You should be GRATEFUL! 🤬 Kill the clown one more time, give me the orb, and you're free! Just… leave the others, don't you have other friends."

A monitor showed Raf with the clown all alone, hiding behind the empty shelves, crouched, moving left and right like he doesn't know what to do.

Mark's fists clenched. "I… I accep—"

Then he saw it, Raf's desperate tumble, the clown's teetering balance.

<<Raf's POV>>

Raf dove behind a shelf, his cooling fans whirring like panicked breaths.

"Raf… why are you scared?" The thing's voice was perfect—Steven's exact cadence.

No. Mark would've said something. Where is he?!

The clown's backward knees clicked as it circled. Raf's HUD flashed:

<<STAMINA⚡: 60/60>>

Okay. Okay. Tumble at its legs. Grab. Up. Down. Repeat.

The clown staggered but didn't fall. A brutal kick sent Raf skidding (-60 HP). He tried again, this time hooking its ankle just right—

The clown bucked free, its nose flaring crimson. Raf barely dodged the rotating death beam as it carved molten lines into the walls.

Someone was running toward them.

Ch. 5 - Fractured Loyalty