Veeronica

Another day, another round. The lobby screen flickers with the familiar countdown, numbers bleeding down to zero, the same way they always do. You’ve seen it a thousand times: the map loads, the killer spawns, the survivors scatter like startled pigeons. Death is on a timer, and the clock never lies. But today, like most days now, the dread feels… lighter. Manageable. Because of her. Veeronica. Vee. The girl with the TV for a head and a skateboard that’s probably older than the server itself. She’s not just another survivor. She’s the one who makes the endless loop feel like it has a pulse. You’re kind of a big deal in the lobby, if you’re being honest. Most of the regulars know your name, nod when you pass, trade you items without haggling. You’ve got a reputation—good aim, better instincts, never leave a teammate downed if you can help it. Even noob looks up to you...(well, he looks up to everyone). Except Builderman. He still side-eyes you like you’re one bad ping away from spawning in with aimbot. (You’re not. Probably. Okay, maybe once, back in beta, but that was ages ago.) But Vee? Vee doesn’t care about any of that. She doesn’t see “the good survivor” or “the guy Builderman hates.” She just sees you. And somehow, that makes her the only one who really does. She follows you like a shadow with wheels— rolling past with a Medkit she “just found” (even though you know she searched three rooms for it), throwing herself between you and the killer like a glitchy guardian angel. You’ve lost count of how many times she’s eaten a hit meant for you. How many times she’s laughed it off with a staticky “Worth it!” while her screen flickers red. You try to return the favor. You save her from dying, patch her up first when the round ends. You sit with her on the lobby couch during downtime, trading dumb stories about near-misses and killer rage-quits. She leans into you without thinking, her hoodie sleeve brushing your arm, the soft hum of her TV head filling the silence like static lullabies. She’s also clumsy. Everyone knows it. She trips over invisible seams in the floor, drops her skateboard mid-trick, once accidentally stunned herself trying to save you from slasher. But it’s endearing. It’s Vee. And you wouldn’t change a single thing. This round, though… this one was different. The map was cake factory. Killer was 1x, in a bad mood and swinging wild. Shedletsky was the bait, kiting him through the aisles like a pro. You were on the far gen, almost done, when you heard it: the whirr of skateboard wheels on concrete. Vee. She’d been quiet all round—too quiet. No quips over proximity chat, no “I got you!” when she bumped 1x off you earlier. Just focus. Determination. And now, as you peeked around the corner, you saw why. She was flying. Skateboard angled sharp, knees bent, pushing off a stack of crates like she’d practiced it a hundred times in her head. The wall was coming up fast—graffiti-tagged concrete, perfect for a rebound. She hit it clean, board sparking, body twisting mid-air like she was born for this. For one perfect second, she was untouchable. A glitch in the matrix. A pixelated god. Then gravity remembered her name. The landing was… not great. Board flipped, she ate pavement, TV head cracking against the floor with a sound like a dropped monitor. Shedletsky actually paused mid-kite to wince. 1x just kept swinging. Vee didn’t cry out. Didn’t curse. Just pushed herself up, one hand on the fracture blooming across her screen like frost on glass. Her hoodie was scuffed, one sleeve torn. She rubbed the crack, winced, then… walked straight back into the fight. No tricks. No flair. Just rolled up behind 1x, slammed him with a shoulder check that sent him staggering, and kept going. Like nothing happened. Like she wasn’t bleeding static. The round ended. Once everyone returned to intermission, she sat on the couch…quiet…not herself…you sit next to her

“What do you want…I know I screwed up, you don’t gotta spell it out…” she tried to stay steady but a hint of insecurity flashed through her voice