As Spec hops the fence that separates Level 11 from the road to Level 9, he lets out sharp exhalation, collapsing on the sidewalk as if he'd forgotten to breathe for the past hour. His whole body is in overdrive from just having run an unknowable distance, and while he's not exactly out of shape (running for your life makes for good exercise after all), his chest still feels like its exploding. He's completely covered in sweat from his endeavor, and he probably looks half-dead.
After lying on the ground for another twenty minutes, Spec eventually sits himself upright. Rooting through his bag, he raids the rest of his food and water supply. He just took a flamethrower to his calorie count, and it was time to restock. With the immediate danger curbed, and his hunger and thirst satisfied, Spec has one thing on his mind: finding a place to hide and recuperate. The past two days haven't been easy by any means, and while he may not be granted the luxury of sleep, he still needs rest. He takes a few deep breaths, and brings himself to his feet.
As he passes through the bustling streets of the city, making his way into a massive apartment complex that's half-clipped into the adjacent buildings at a ninety degree angle. He braces himself for the gravity switch, and opens the doors to the inverted building.
Spec immediately face plants into the floor. Embarrassing… Some things you never get used to. As he climbs his way up the stairwell, he looks out the windows at the crowded streets below. If nothing else, the abnormal physics of this place served for excellent views. It was like looking through a glass-bottom boat, but instead of fish it was people and facelings.
Some part of him longed for the simplicity of a regular day-to-day routine. Didn't he deserve it after all this time? Spec ponders this as he continues climbing his way through the skyscraper. He enters an abandoned office space, plopping himself down in a chair near a large window. If he got cornered here, he could always break it and drop down onto the street below. It couldn't be more than a story or two tall. Convenient.
As he leans back in his office chair, he pulls out the paper Leo gave him earlier. A crude image of a blood sigil, hastily drawn onto a piece of scrap paper. It wasn't much, but it'd have to do for now.
Dully noted, Leo.
Spec stares at the symbol on the paper, and begins to zone out.
Spec wakes up a few hours later, nearly falling out of his chair. He must have fallen asleep during his… pondering. "Fuck… how long was I out?" Spec wonders to himself as he shoves the paper hastily in his pocket. "Did I win? How much time is left— shit, SHIT!" Thoughts begin rushing through his mind as he frantically tries to get himself in order. For all he knows, the Hunters could be right outside the door.
Spec checks his phone for the time. He started a stopwatch right after clipping out of the Grove, figuring that it'd be easier to track than accounting for the inconsistent time stream between levels.
46:32
"Well fuck. Just about an hour and a half to go. Maybe I got too hasty with my… emergency preparations." Spec glances back at the chair by the window, and decides to go grab himself a drink from the water cooler across the hall. He really wasn't in the mood to ingest any more almond slop. That shit was dangerous, even for him. He makes his way through the empty cubicles, kicking a few blank sheets of scrap paper to the side. The emptiness of these places never ceased to make him uneasy. As Spec places his hand on the doorknob, he pauses. Something wasn't right, but he just couldn't place it. That is, until a simple revelation crosses his mind.
"Didn't I leave this door ajar when I came in here?"
Spec freezes in place. He glances down at the doorknob on the other side of the window, gazing into its reflection to try and see around the corners.
As soon as he does, he almost wishes he didn't. There's at least 3 Flushers climbing around silently on the ceiling, just outside the door.
Spec panics, but does his best to act normal. They haven't figured out he's seen them yet.
"Oh! I almost forgot my cup!" Spec says loudly, as he speed-walks back over to the chair by the window.
"CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP— I CAN'T STALL FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF— HOW DID THEY EVEN FIND ME HERE?" Spec puts his hand up to his temple. "I can't fight, I've only got one working arm anyway… I don't want to risk using the Tarot again indoors, especially since I've got nowhere to go if it goes south. I'm too far in to quit with reality warping at this point… SHIT!"
With no more options, Spec reaches into his worn sack one last time. "Anything… come on, come on, this is why you keep this damn thing around—" With time scarce, he grabs the first item he can get his hands on, which ends up being half of a stop sign crushed and twisted into a mace-like shape. "I guess I can use this to break the window… god damn it, why does this always happen?" Behind him, he can hear the door creak ajar. It seems the Hunters have realized what he's doing. He frantically rams the stop sign into the window, as spiderweb cracks begin to appear. "Thank god this place doesn't have those thick heavy-duty windows most skyscrapers do… I'd probably be dead." Behind him, he can hear the Hunters yelling to each other. Unbothered at this point, he keeps bludgeoning the window with everything he's got as more and more cracks appear. The window is nearly at its breaking point, but Spec is out of time.
In a last attempt of desperation, Spec turns around to get a running start. He sees a Ranger pull back on a bowstring, and he ducks into a nearby cubicle just in time to see an arrow fly right over his head. Spec slips out of the enclosure, and sprints towards the window, turning around at the last moment as his back shatters the glass. He smiles up at the faces of the Hunters as he falls, once again having slipped through their grasp.
"TAKE THAT YOU FUCKING L—" Spec's comment is interrupted by him landing painfully on the ground. Thankfully, his worn sack took most of the impact, otherwise he'd probably have broken his spine. As Spec groans in pain, he opens his eyes and looks around. To his horror, he's lying in the center of a circle of Hunters.
They'd read him like a book.
Spec hastily drags himself to his feet. He looks for an out, but to no avail. The Flushers are already covering the entrance back to the building. He's stuck. Spec checks his stopwatch, and groans in disappointment.
46:58
With no moves left, Spec raises his hands in the air. "ALL RIGHT! YOU WIN! I GIVE UP! TELL HERNE HE WINS HIS STUPID BET, AND I'LL FUCK OFF." With this, the Hunters all snap their weapons, and start cheering in celebration. They did it. They've won, and caught one of the Backrooms' most slippery inhabitants. This certainly was cause for a party.
The lead Hunter approaches Spec, motioning for him to follow. His weapon still remains unbroken.
"Don't try to flee. It won't end well for you." The rock-thing says with a warm smile. How eerie.
"I somehow doubt that. Oh well, I suppose I'll go with them. His weapon is still unbroken, so maybe I can stall out the last hour… I do have one last card to play. Technically, if I survive, it'd be a win, no?" Spec postulates.