This idea just wouldn't leave me alone.

I've recently fallen in love with the game Dead By Daylight and I hope to see more fanfiction made for it. So here we go. Note that I will update occasionally.

…

Outside of all the beasts that stalk the night, I fear this new horror for very different reasons. While the others seem to come from our darkest nightmares, this being seems to have come from the most hellish of battlefields. His long coat tattered, armor scratched and dented, and eyes blazing red through his metal mask. I literally ran into the being when I turned a corner while running from the revving blades of the deformed killers chainsaw. I thought my end was neigh as he came towards me. Yet rather than strike me, he pulled me up and effortlessly tossed me aside with what sounded like a warped chuckle.

As my pursuer finally caught up, he paused, confused as I was about the new individual. The stranger rather than stare, brushed aside his coat where I caught a glimpse of a silver handgun. Yet rather than pull out the firearm, he withdrew a strange blade, and with a hiss and crackle the weapon was wreathed in unnaturally bright flames.

It was a moment before they charged each other and I took it upon myself to escape even as I heard metal strike metal. I know not what happened afterwards but, from what I can gather is that a pawn of the Entity has gone rogue. It seems to have no interest in us, yet I fear what would happen if it ever did.

-Benedict Baker

Chapter 1: A Dark Road

In the wasteland, there are few greater threats than raiders. The people who have given in to the brutality of the wasteland and though they are relatively easy to deal with for a trained and skilled individual, they are many. What they lack in skill and intelligence, they make up for it in their savagery and unpredictable nature. They are viewed by many as less than human and are one of the many dangers lurking in the irradiated desert.

One such raider was running as fast as his legs could carry him. Running along, the only the source of light to see his way came from the pale moon in the night sky. It wasn't long until he stopped in his tracks, bent over trying to catch his breath.

"Think…I got…away." He said finally calming his his beating heart.

As he turned around, pain exploded through his abdomen. With a scream, he looked to see a dark blade piercing his flesh. Slowly looking up, he gazed upon the one who did this to him.

The man stood a head taller than the raider, clad in the tried and tested elite riot armor seen only in the storm ridden Divide. His head encased by a helmet and a vicious looking gas mask. Even through the Glowing red lenses, the impaled raider could tell the man was glaring at him. Ever so slowly, the armored man's free hand grabbed at a small leather bound book at the raiders waist and took it with a tug.

"You shouldn't take what isn't yours." The man said, his voice came out with a hiss from his mask. With the hand grabbing the blades handle, he pulled on a motorcycle brake underneath a valve attached to the hilt. Suddenly the blade ignited, and then raider started screaming.

The dirty and grimy clothes, little more than rags really, were the first to catch. Then his flesh. The hungry flame quickly engulfed the screaming man, even as he writhed in agony and tried to put out the flames.

Pulling out the flaming blade, the armored man extinguished his weapon and placed it back on his hip. All the while he watched his handiwork.

The raider was on the ground now, he knew he was dying, however one last thought passed through his head.

Why the fuck did we think it was a good idea to steal from the Courier!

With that, the body ceased all movement.

The armored man, simply known as Six, stared at the body for a few moments before lowering himself to the ground and leaning against a nearby boulder. Reaching up, he clasped his headgear and pulled it off with a hiss. Underneath was a man who looked to just be entering his thirties, slightly tanned skin, short brown hair and slight stubble. The left side of his face had three scars running down from his eyebrow to mid-cheek. His eyes however were what stood out. They were a cold pale blue, so pale in fact they could be mistaken for white. One would would be hard pressed to find any warmth in his gaze.

Six pulled up his left arm, one wrapped in a metal gauntlet that gave off an amber glow. With a few buttons pushed and knobs turned, a flash of light appeared in his hands. As soon it faded, what took its place was a small plastic blue bag.

Reaching in he pulled out a puffy white marshmallow.

Reaching towards the burning corpse, he let the flames lick at the sugary treat as it darkened to a brown a soft brown. He then pulled back and plopped the snack into his mouth. Six swallowed with a satisfied smile.

"Oh marshmallows, I will always love you!" he said hugging the bag to his chest.

Putting the bag aside he opened the little book he had taken from the burning raider. It was a small thing, bound in worn leather and pages yellowed with age. The only thing that stood out was etched on the cover was a symbol that resembled the crooked limbs of a spider.

This book was one that Six had had all his life, and it brought both comfort in its familiarity and dread at what it spoke of. In it, it spoke of a being, one that could bring hope to the downtrodden, or unspeakable evil upon mankind.

It had been lost to him since he woke up in Doctor Mitchells house that fateful day. He had had no memory of his past at the time so he did not know of it being missing. Yet as the life before the Platinum Chip and Benny returned, he remembered the book. As well as the horrors it had wrought.

It took many months to track it down, passing from merchant, to a legion raiding party to an unlucky NCR soldier who had lost his mind only to be put down by the Courier's bullet. Finally, it had come back to him.

Yet just as he had found the book, a group of raiders had ambushed him. Though he cut them down like a scythe through crops, one got close enough to steal his hard earned prize. Not that it mattered in the end.

Even as he read the pages by the fire light, images flashed through Six's mind. Images of people of all kinds and ages. Young, old, black, white, soldier and farmer. All dead, brutalized and torn apart. Whether by blade, bomb or bullets didn't matter, they were still dead.

Shaking the dreaded images from his mind, Six gazed at the innocent looking item in his hands.

"How much agony have you caused, huh?" He asked, not expecting an answer. "How many people have died because of you? How many fell for the tales that lay within you? How many were there before me?" It may have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he heard faint whispers in the dark. He just dismissed it as the wind.

He gave a tired sigh before rubbing his eyes. "It doesn't matter now. Because I'm ending this." Slamming the book shut, he looked upon the burning corpse once more before tossing the book into the small inferno. It's pages shriveled and blackened it was consumed. The flames danced along the cover too, its strange art being reduced to ashes.

With a satisfied sigh, the courier turned his gaze to the bright moon even as the smoke and embers wafted towards the sky. With a small smile, Six, for the first time in a long time, let himself relax.

What a beautiful night. I just wish I had a cold beer right now. Though I'm just glad it's over.

"It's only just begun."

With out hesitation, Six leapt to his feet, put on his mask and unsheathed his blade, Gehenna. With his left hand, he unholstered his .45 pistol A Light Shinning In The Darkness (ALSD for short). He scanned his surroundings for the source of the voice. He immediately noticed that a strange fog had suddenly rolled in.

"Who's there?!" He demanded, his weapons moving to protect himself from all directions. "Show your self! Now!"

"Your time has come to serve me."

Though he didn't show it, Six was slightly disturbed. The voice seemed to come from every where yet at the same time nowhere. It also sounded as if a man and woman were talking in unison, along with the underlying noise of what sounded like mandibles of an insect.

"Fuck off! I serve no one but myself! Hell, I don't even know who you are!" He screamed at what ever was out there.

"You know me."

"Sure, because I've met so many other creepy ass disembodied voices coming from fog before." He said trying not to roll his eyes.

"I know you."

"So what!? Lots of people know about the Courier! The fame can really get annoying sometimes." He mumbled that last part to himself.

"I know what you've done. I know who you really are...Abbadon."

Six just stood there, his blood running cold. "How do you know that name?" His voice rather than sounding angry, lacked any emotion. It almost sounded dead.

"You served me. You will serve again. I will reward you."

"How do you know that name?"

"You shall come to me."

"How do you know that name?"

"You shall kill for me."

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT FUCKING NAME?!" Six roared. It sounded, wrong. Unnatural. Inhuman.

The voice was silent almost taken aback, even the fog seemed to have momentarily retreated. Yet, his question was answered.

"You called out to me the moment you created the Divide."

Six's calm demeanor faded instantly. He fired round after round into the fog, the flashes lighting up the night and the deafening cracks breaking the silence. All with the hope that one round might find and silence the source of the voice.

As the gunfire stopped, light panting could be heard from the courier.

Just as he was about to reload, a sudden tiredness fell upon him. He tried to stay on his feet, but the drowsiness won out. He collapsed, spread out on the ground as his consciousness left him and the grip on his weapons loosened.

Like a predatory upon wounded prey, the fog pounced upon him. It enveloped him entirely, hiding the human from sight. All that could be seen of the man was the glow from his armored gas mask. Yet even that began to fade until it was gone.

And as sudden as the fog appeared, it was gone. When it left it there was no trace it had never been there. Yet something was still terribly wrong. The Courier that had fallen, the man who had changed the course of rebuilding civilization, the man that inspired both hope and fear, was gone.

His disappearance, was worrisome to the people of the Mojave, yet not unexpected. The man could never stay in one place for too long. There were many theories about what happened to the man. Some say he went north too Alaska, maybe even settled down in the rugged territory. Maybe he went on to explore the rest of the burned world, maybe even to China, if it still existed that is. Maybe he had finally met his end, finally met the one wasteland horror that could finally take him down. Most scoffed at that one.

However, his closest friends knew he wouldn't leave without an explanation or goodbye. No, they knew that where ever he was he'd gone unwillingly. They also knew that whoever or whatever had taken him, would regret it for the rest of their existence.

They had no idea how right they were.

…

Waking up, Six stretched his arms and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Man, that was one wield dream." Looking around, his eyes widened as he took in his surroundings.

He was in the middle of what he could only guess was a forest. There were trees everywhere, all reaching high towards the sky. Yet unlike the old pictures they were dark, almost too dark. Even the leaves which should have been green were more of a lighter shade of black.

There were bits of ruined brick walls around, along with random bits of work equipment. Pallets, storage closets, he could even make out a generator in the distance.

Looking up to the night sky, he found it a strange midnight blue, yet not a single star was shining. The only thing in it was a pale full moon, and something felt incredibly wrong with it. Almost like it was watching him.

"Not a dream. Definitely not a dream."he said. Getting to his feet, he checked himself over and found his weapons where they should be and his helmet clipped to his waist. He immediately put it on, and like any good survivalist faced with an unknown environment with unknown dangers, he took inventory.

Bringing up his pipboy, he started scrolling through his supplies.

Let's see, plenty of medical supplies and rations. Few bottles of whiskey too, along with cartons of cigarettes. Now let's see about weapons. Damn, only one firearm. At least I have plenty of ammo for it. Definitely have enough close range weapons.

Lowering his arm, he looked for any distinct land marks. Finding nothing that stood out, he decides on his destination the old fashion way.

"Eeny meeny miny moe. Catch a Deathclaw by the toe. If he hollers run away, you just might see another day. My mother told me to pick the very best gun and you, are, it." He said pointing off into random directions before come to a stop at one.

With that, he took his first step into this new place, not knowing what he would soon see.

SHINK!

He stopped in his tracks, feeling a sharp pain from his lower leg. Glancing down, he saw that his right foot was trapped in a worn, yet still functioning bear trap. He released a deep sigh of pure annoyance. "Well this is off to a great start." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Reaching down, he pried the traps teeth out of his leg. He had stepped in so many traps just like this one that the pain no longer bothered him. Then again, pain had never really bothered him, even if the majority of his bones were broken and had several bullets lodged in his body. This wound was nothing, his own body would heal such a wound in a matter of minutes, courtesy of cybernetics.

Removing his foot, he let the trap snap back shut. No need to let someone else wander into the thing.

"AAAAAHHHH!"

A cry pieced the night and caught Six's attention instantly. It sounded feminine, and was one filled with fear.

Not wasting a moment, the armored killer from the wasteland set off in search of the source. He knew there would be trouble, no doubt something dangerous as well. If his experiences in the Mojave were any indication, he most likely would have to slaughter whatever it was that stalked this forest.

A dark smile formed underneath his mask at that thought.

…

Gonna have to stop it here. Now I know what you thinking, what did the Entity mean when it said Six used to serve it? Well let's just say Six has a LOT of skeletons in his closet. Figuratively and literally.

Also yes, he only has ALSD for firearms. Considering he has a finite supply, he'll only use it for emergencies. However he makes up for that with his skill in close combat and with melee weapons. Hell, don't be surprised if he were to use weapons similar to some of the killers. Also, his main weapon is the unique shishkebab Gehenna, named after the valley in ancient Jerusalem where pagan's sacrifice people to the demon Moloch by setting them on fire. It even became the inspiration for the idea that hell as a world of fire. It seemed appropriate.

Now I hoped you liked it and please leave a review.

See'ya!