A small, yellow flower peeked out from the white hues of the snow under it. A few flakes sat atop the softly swaying petals. Scott gripped his axe tightly in hand as he stood staring down at the flower, he gave a soft huff of amusement.

"Huh. Well, you don't die easily do you?" He muttered to himself as he stared down at the swaying petals. The branches creaked around him in the desolate nothingness of the winter forest, only the howling wind daring to utter its noise.

"Well, why'd the music stop?" A voice said in the distance, causing Scott's head to snap up to the general direction of the source. A small sense of fear gripped his limbs, clutching his axe tighter. Was someone else in here woods with him?

"Hello?" Scott called out, his hair gently swaying in the wind as his brows furrowed. His eyes scanned every direction in front of him, trying to find this person who spoke to no avail.

"You killed people! So many people!" Someone spat- a new person, their voice echoed through the trees from a different direction than the first voice. Scott's head snapped in that direction, his eyes trained on the dark spot that it might've come from. How peculiar that darkness, perhaps it was later than he thought it was previously. He should have wrapped things up, but his curiosity was peeked just a little.

"Who's there?" Scott called out tentatively, his eyes trained on the spot he assumed the voice had come from. His brow was quirked quizzically, waiting for an answer as his grip on his axe only got tighter.
"Hello?" Scott said softly, his voice barely echoing through the trees as the two voices did. His words gained no answer from the mysterious voices.
"Huh. Alright." Scott muttered, his brow relaxed as his eyes flickered to a tree. Just get back to cutting, he thought to himself while letting out a soft sigh. Walking over to it, the snow crouched softly beneath his snow boots, his grip softened from its death grip. Scott stood in front of the tree silently for a second before rearing the axe up and slamming it into the tree with a grunt.

...

Scott returned to the cabin, wood and axe under his arm. Don't slam the door, Scott— He slammed the door shut behind him. Okay. Uh-huh. Yeah, yeah, sure, m-hm. That's totally what you told yourself to do. Scott walked over to the fireplace, sitting down at it and throwing a few logs into the flames. He saw a flower today, a pretty little yellow one. Spring must be... coming soon. Scott was silent for a moment. Or there's still a few more weeks of winter left and that flower will die and al— His thoughts said, he muttered it under his breath as they went. That thought was... familiar. Ah, it's probably nothing. Scott remembered the voice he heard earlier- which now that he thinks of it, should have been impossible because of how clear it sounded. Although the echo was unusual, it was as if there were people nearby him speaking. He should have chased after but it trailed off before he could even think of that, and he had to get back with the firewood... but there's plenty of firewood... there's no one else in these woods, if there WERE, I would have found them by now. Scott reminded himself, standing up and yanking the shotgun into his hands. Yes, he would have run into them by now, that's that. God, he mustn't be getting enough sleep with his tight schedule of getting firewood and then hunting for food. Scott placed the shotgun back on the wall, his fingers tracing the golden patterns curving the white barrel with its blood-stained end. Trailing further up the gun, the patterns never ceased, only changing to a glittery white as the forearm, grip and comb turned a golden colour. In his defence, it was expensive, and fancy, and went with the harsh winter's snow. He pulled his hand back, staring down at the bed. It was hand-made by himself, the wood carved and formed into a sturdy frame that housed the uncomfortable mattress and woollen blanket. He kind of... lost his pillow, he didn't know how. He should get sleep, he's not getting enough sleep... but he's not tired, even though he's always up at ungodly hours to return halfway through the morning. This is pathetic, arguing to himself about something that isn't even bothering him in the slightest. Those voices though... they didn't sound too friendly. Oh, whatever! Who cares about some voice he heard in the woods? Not him, that's DEFINITELY for sure.

...okay, I need sleep.

Scott sat down on the bed, spinning around to lay down on it properly as he stared at the ceiling with no exact reason other than he could. His eyes caught a glimpse of the windows, slowly freezing, the ice climbing the panes like small cracks and forcing the panes to creak. His brows furrowed at it, confusion and curiosity present in his face.
"Well, that's weird." Scott noted to himself, curiosity peeking into his senses as he sat up to peek at the window, he reached his hands out to press the pads of his fingers pressed against the freezing glass.

"Scott!" Something called in a distorted whisper, the tone was strikingly familiar, almost like it was echoing his voice. His head snapped to the source of the voice.

"What the Hell?!" Scott exclaimed, as his eyes locked on a mirror. It sat in a varnished dark wooden frame. The reflective surface dusted over, making everything in the reflection almost hazy.
"That... wasn't there before." He noted to himself, his feet back on the floor as he turned in the direction of the mirror.
"How did I not notice this?" Scott muttered, standing up and walking over to it. Although his steps were delayed by his reluctance, he kept onwards.
"Why can't I see myself?" The cyanette asked to the air, knowing there would be no response. Something was in the mirror, he couldn't see it so he squinted. His eyes are unwilling to focus on what is in the mirror, the hazy veil on the mirror doesn't help.
"What the Hell is that?" He questioned once more, somehow remaining unbothered by his constant questions to the air.

"You aren't quite feeling like yourself, are you?" The voice all too familiar spoke once more, a shadow clear on the mirror surface.
"SCOTT..." The face finally made its appearance. And it was... oh, God,

It was horrifying.

Decaying and ghostly, literally a decaying head! The skin sagging, torn around the gapping mouth and falling apart with its sickly grey appearance, sunken eyes with a glowing cyan light the only thing in the void where eyes used to be. Cyan hair dulled and plastered wetly to the face, thin and tousled and would hit the shoulder if there were shoulders.

This was his face. Scott knew it was his face because it was so describable as him, yet so distant from what he should look like.

Scott's eyes widened as his brain finally caught up with what was in front of him, and his brows shot up in response. His whole body froze in place, as fear ran through every part of him, digging its trepidation into his core as his heart started to pick up its pace, hammering his ribs. His eyes remained focused on the face, wanting to dart away but unable to move in the slightest. His chest heaved with each breath, shaky and laboured just managing to draw in air enough for him to breathe properly. Scott shut his eyes, squeezing them as tightly shut as he could. Like a frightened child under their covers, he prayed the face to go away once he opened his eyes.

"It's time to wake up, Scott." The voice echoed into his ears, his eyes stubbornly staying glued shut. He knew he had to open his eyes eventually, and decided now was better than never. The cyanette forced his opened his eyes wide open.

Oh God, did he regret it...
Faced with the bitter cold, only just realised the towering trees around him.

The whole cabin was gone.

Or, he was out in the snow again. Perhaps he teleported... somehow. His jacket on his shoulders, axe slammed into a nearby tree with his gun resting beside it. His fear still had him frozen in place, the snow blowing past him, catching on his hair as he took in the surroundings. Confusion replaced the fear. How the Hell did he get outside? The cold bit at the exposed skin of his face, but he ignored it entirely as he was used to the harshly bitting temperature.
"This doesn't make any sense..." Scott muttered, his breath clouded in the air as he stood there. His eyes flicked from the darkened, cloud-covered sky to the snow-capped trees.
"Am I dreaming?" He asked himself, glancing down at his hands. No, it... he shouldn't be. He could feel the cold tearing at his face, numbing it.

"Scott." A familiar voice called, filled with a foreboding sense of trepidation. This time it was not of his own, no. Scott had to wrack his brain to remember the voice for some time, so familiar but so far—... before it finally came upon him. The realisation had flooded his senses, prickling his body with the terror of his realisation.

"Owen, is that you?!" Scott called to the endless valley of scattered spruce trees. Anxiety once again dug its way into his limbs, how was Owen here? This made no sense! No one else was in these woods! How the Hell was Owen here?!

"Scott!" Owen's voice had called out again, fear filled the voice he so thought of as the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. He rarely heard fear from his partner, in times he could remember or recognise at least, so this had caused adrenaline to rush through his frigid body.

"Owen!" Scott called out, his body taking action before he could think of moving. Snow crunched under his feet as he took to running, pushing forward through the high layers of the glittering white powder.
"Owen!" He called out again, trying to understand where his beloved husband was and what danger he was in. The snow kicked up after his feet and rushed past him as it fell from the sky, causing the whole forest to be shrouded in a darker light.

"Scott!!" Owen's voice yelled out, echoing off the trees and pushing Scott to go even faster. Adrenaline still thrumming through his body, ignoring the fact he left his only two weapons behind and the snow rapidly falling at a quicker pace, almost blinding him.

"Owen, where are you?!?!" Scott called out, his voice tipping with fear for his lover's safety. The snow trying to keep him from running to the best of its ability with its high layers, almost going past his shoes.
"Where are you?!" The cyanette had called out again, desperate to find Owen hopefully not in death's path or danger at all. Although the fear in the brunette's voice was painfully obvious.

"Scott, hurry!" Owen's voice yelled out once more, fear a glaring fact of his voice. Terror of something. Scott didn't know what but he wasn't deterred from going onwards.

"Can you hear me?" Scott yelled, pushing onwards through the layers of snow, clambering over fallen dead trees as he ran. Desperate to find his darling husband. This is not where he dies, not now... Scott thought to himself as he ran onwards, his exhaustion begging him to slow down and take a break but Heaven be damned if he ever did so.
"Hey!!" He snapped out with fear, the trees thinning in numbers before he stumbled upon a frozen lake. He skidded to a stop before his foot touched the icy surface, panting as he tried to regain his breath with his legs aching from exhaustion.
"Owen...?" The cyanette called, his voice echoing across the barren plane of the lake slightly hoarse from his previous yelling. The snow seemed to have calmed down, easing up and allowing him to properly see the blue void of the lake.
"Owen?" Scott called, his voice softer than it previously was as he looked across the lake. Where was he? Why wasn't he responding? He took a second to stare at the lake, finally coming across the fact he had never seen this lake before, and he'd been in the woods for quite a while.
"I-" He started before his eyes caught imprints in the snow leading towards the lake. Dread settled on his shoulders, weighing him down as he stared down at them. The ice creaked slightly, his gaze settled along the footprints that led towards the centre of the lake where a hole was, something broke through...
"Owen..." The cyanette tentatively called, his voice soft as he finally realised the situation. Owen fell through. The brunette was under the ice.
"Owen!" Scott called, immediately racing out onto the ice. Ignoring the cracked ice underneath him as he ran towards the centre of the frozen flooring beneath his feet. His breath clouded in the air as he ran onwards, fear prickling each part of his body as the cold wind snapped at his face.
"Owen! Hold on! Hold on, Owen!" He called out desperately, racing across the frozen plateau of translucent blue as snow continued to flutter down. A mist of fog settled over the lake, faint enough for him to see where he was stepping but still there.
"Hold on, just a little bit longer! Just a little bit longer, Owen! Can you hear me?!" He yelled out to him, fear overriding every sense of survival knowledge he had. Only focused on one thing; saving Owen. As soon as he reached the centre he hit the ice with his knees, plunging his arm into the freezing depths as he grasped for Owen desperately, managing to find and pull him up.
"Owen! Owen?" Scott said, his hands clutching the freezing man's arms. Was he unconscious? Dead? No, he can't be dead... he- he can't-...

"It's not fair..." His voice said, but not from his mouth. The head snapped up to him, the same face as in the mirror. Decaying and ghostly, even more horrifying in an actual light. The pungent smell of death flooded his senses, making his face scrunch up in disgust at the smell.
"...is it?" The... thing said, he pulled his hand away from its arm but it only grabbed him back and dragged him under. Plunging him into the void's subzero grasp as he flailed and tried to get back to the surface. A whispering called in his ears, echoing but he couldn't hear it properly.

Scott wasn't expecting his feet to hit something solid, met by just the void and deep, guttural reverberations. There was silence for a moment, a fog floated around him.

"Scott, you are a hard man to find." His voice said, a slightly distorted echo. A cyan light changed the colour of the fog, Scott quickly turned around his eyes focused on the man before him disguised in shadows. His form is outlined by a wall of ice glowing cyan, cracks splitting with a wall of static behind it. The man... wore a suit with no tie. A dark red silky blazer with black lapels, and a white undershirt tucked into his black dress pants that didn't entirely conform to his legs, leaving some fabric dangling over his, also black, dress shoes.

"What? Who are you? Where's Owen?" Scott asked, his brows furrowed as he glared at the man mimicking his voice. The man only chuckled in response, amused at Scott's questioning.

"Ah, now that... don't know. Just mimicking his voice to finally get you to come along." The man said with a shrug, amusement clear in his voice.

"You-... you-" Scott snarled, glaring daggers at the man in front of him wielding Jacob's old cane as his voice shook with rage.

"Easy there, cowboy! I've done nothing to harm your precious little husband. I'm not that evil." He said, his hands folded on top of the cane as he grinned down at Scott.
"Plus, I don't think I could harm him. I believe that Pearl or even you would carve my heart out and feed it to me if I laid a finger on him." He stated, the glow softly darkened and lightened again, like a fading light.

"Whu- what...? Well, then why am I here? What do you want from me?!" Scott's voice cut through the air, sharp and pointed as he spoke, his fists trembling with barely contained fury. His muscles coiled tight as he struggled to maintain his composure, although it was fracturing like the ice of the lake. Who the Hell was this guy? Who did he think he was?!

"Oh, Scott. Oh, my poor, sweet, Scott... I've come to apologise." He said, in a mockingly sweet tone, a grin still plastered across his face. Scott's fury only intensified, his glare sharpening into a piercing bolt of anger.

"Do- do I know you?" Scott asked, tilting his head in question at the man as his rage simmered slightly. The man only chuckled in response.

"Of course you know me! Dare I say you probably know me as well as you know yourself!" He stated, his grin managed wide, flashing his white teeth before he lowered his head and chuckled.
"Sorry, bad joke. Couldn't help myself." He said, his smile never faltered once.

"...Actor?" Scott asked tentatively, an eyebrow raised in question. The lights flickered brighter, illuminating the man finally. His cyan hair pulled back into a neat and short bun, blonde streaks ran through the hair, a new appearance... fun.

"And circle takes the square! Took you awhile friend, but you made it." Actor said, jousting Jacob's cane in Scott's direction even with the latter a few more feet away to be touched.

"What? But- no-" Scott started, lowering to a mumble as confused thought took over his rage, his face relaxing in his confusion.

"Whoa there, easy boy! I'm gonna stop you right there because I just don't have time for the whole catching up thing.

"No, you need to answer me. How did I get here? Where even am I?!" Scott exclaimed in question. He couldn't believe that Actor had made it out of Who Killed Major, he should have been combined to that universe but... here he was, face to face with him...

"Whoa! Hold on, okay, alright, I'll just summarise. And it's best summarised by saying that... things, didn't work out too well! Mistakes were made! Plans weren't... properly executed as they should have been, which made the whole Glitch problem. And now... I have your body! Sorry about that." Actor said, the cane vanished from his hands.
"My version of Jacob is completely safe, unharmed. Just so you know, and not tempted to rip my intestines out." He added in with a humoured chuckle, laughing at the mere thought that Scott could do that. The ice displayed a scene through its now orange colour, Charlie and Astral. The Colonel and the Detective, guns pointed at each other.
"But anyways. The right people started pointing fingers at the wrong people aaand uh..." Actor said, followed by a resounding gunshot. Scott cringed, his face scrunching up at the noise but soon brushed it off and relaxed his face again. Astral's body lay dead on the image the ice was displaying.
"A good night with friends MAY have taken a wrong turn..." He said, walking around Scott like a circling shark. His steps are slow and calculated. The image shifted to Owen, not his Owen- but the Actor's version of Owen.

"You..." Scott mumbled under his breath, his words nearly lost in the air. Before he could fully speak, Actor, with an air of narcissistic confidence as ever, spoke over the other Scotsman.

"And okay, I MAY have made a deal with a certain fellow to POSSIBLY make sure a certain man couldn't go around breaking anyone else's heart, ever again." Actor's voice lowered, a sense of rage rising in his voice as he walked around stopping in front of Scott and spinning to him. The ice shifted to red and made a low crack, a few pieces crumbling and crashing to the floor.
"BUT THAT WAS DOING EVERYONE A FAVOUR..." Actor snarled, his voice distorted even more than it previously had been, Scott flinched backwards two steps away from Actor.
"But that's all in... the past." Actor said as his composure came back, his voice returned to only slightly distorted.

"You... you murderer..." Scott said, his voice managed to be louder than the simple murmur it was before, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides once more.

"Oh, please," Actor said while rolling his eyes, his cockiness clear in his softly distorted Scottish voice.
"You sound like that idiot detective. Come on, you're better than that." Actor said, crossing his arms over his chest as he disapprovingly glared at Scott.

"Just-... just leave me alone... go drop dead and let me live my life in peace." Scott said, turning away from Actor and running his hands through his knotted, messy hair. Undoing a few easy knots in the process. Actor let out a low, devilish chuckle before taking a deep breath.

"Hm-hm... "live your life in peace..." oh, my friend. What have they kept from you?" Actor asked rhetorically, a smile curved his lips.
"I've done nothing, but NOW... in this place, with your body... I can make something beautiful." Actor lulled his low voice with a sort of sadistic glee at the mere thought.
"Scott? It's time to wake up." He stated lowly as his voice softly distorted, his eyes sharp on Scott as the cyan light outlined his eyes.

SLAM

Actor's eyes widened in surprise, turning halfway to the ice behind him. A few pieces fluttered down from where a new crack was formed.

SLAM

"Ah..." Actor said flatly, an air of realisation in his voice. The ice flickered to red, the static fading into a dark void like the rest of this plane.

SLAM.

Shards of ice scattered across the floor, a gaping hole positioned directly in front of where the Actor was standing. And someone stood in the newly formed gap. Scott's axe gripped in a pale hand, void coloured hair outlined by the red light pulled back into a bun. Sharp red eyes burned straight through Actor's, although he remained undeterred.

"Ah, Exor! So good to see-" Actor barely got passed those words before the axe was plunged straight through his chest. He choked and spluttered for a moment before maniacally laughing, fading away to the void.

"I... I have no idea what just happened." Scott stated, his breath softly clouded in the air as fog from the ice poured in with its red coloured glow.

"Are you alright?" Exor asked sharply as they walked over to Scott, grasping his shoulders with a shake. The Scotsman blinked in surprise, being shaken by a void covered Stag God outlined vaguely in red, while only partially seeing their paled, grey skinned face and hands wasn't a usual thing.
"I didn't defy half of the things Aeor told me not to do just to come here and see you're not at least healthy." They snarled, removing their hands from the others shoulders.

"Y-yeah, fine." Scott muttered, stepping back two steps and looking around. What the Hell is happening?-

"Okay. Off we go. You're husband and child might kick your ass when you get out by the way." Exor noted, grabbing Scott's arm and dragging him along. Scott couldn't get a slight word or even breath of air out before Exor spoke again.
"There's also only one body you can have. Working on getting your body back, but a stubborn, petty, coward of a narcissist is inhabiting it now. Speaking of that narcissistic, you're gonna have to use his body." Exor stated, dragging the Scotsman along still. Scott struggled to get his feet in pace with Exor's, but didn't need too as he was dropped. Falling into the void once more with a yelp and flailing once more.

...

But now, he's finally back.