Mazarine's backstory
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Drawn in Flipaclip
Edited in CapCut
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I used to be a part of the medical team at level 52. I worked as a doctor and would do daily check-ups on everybody there, just to make sure they were in good health. I think they liked me. There was one time when a wanderer gave me a bouquet of roses. It was nice.
However, I started to notice the presence of a certain partypooper. I wasn’t exactly sure why I felt so uncomfortable and distrustful towards him, he felt out of place, like he didn’t belong among the other partypoopers.
That “partypooper” was unusually quiet, only talked when spoken to and often hang around in the meeting area. When I did my daily check-up with him, he refused to take a blood sample. It was a bit odd, but I didn’t pressure him. I thought I was just overthinking, so I ignored my gut feeling and just went along with it. I… I wish I didn’t.
When the fun war started, it was beyond brutal. I was trying my best to survive and escape the area, I just happened to stumble across “him”. The hallways were gloomy and cold, it was just me and him, facing each other. I finally confronted him about his behaviour and my gut feelings. But he just stood there, motionless. When he finally spoke up, my blood ran cold.
“Shouldn’t have doubt your gut, doctor”
The next thing I knew, my arms were restrained by two partygoers. In a state of confusion and fear, I begged him to explain what he meant. But… but that fucker started to giggle, then he began to burst out into full laughter. I was stunned, but became more horrified when he finally took off his signature frowning mask. Only to reveal a human’s face underneath, and he was still laughing.
At that point, all I saw was red. I'd never felt such an urge to just KILL someone in my life, so I yanked my arm from the partygoer’s grasp and whipped out my pistol. There was only one bullet left in the chamber, but I didn’t care if I got killed as long as that bastard was dead. I didn’t think twice and pulled the trigger. I failed.
The partygoer threw me to the ground, stomped on my stomach. I was still dazed from the impact. I didn’t notice their deathly grip on my arm until it was too late. I felt a white-hot blinding pain beyond anything I could have imagined. I’m amazed today that I remained conscious. Every stitch of clothing on the right sleeve of my shirt had been ripped off.
Even without thinking, I knew straight away that my right arm had, too. Reaching across with my left hand, I grabbed at the wound, covering as much of the flesh as I could. I felt the tissues and the exposed flesh of my wound. I shut my eyes and wailed out in agony.
