Survival's Edge

Peter was going to die.

It wasn’t even up for debate at this point. He could see it now—Beloved Friend, Taken Too Soon, Probably Screaming—etched onto his gravestone.

And honestly? Fair enough.

Because, really, what did you expect? Peter had some athletic ability, sure, but sprinting for his life through a jungle while being hunted by a guy on a motorcycle? Yeah, that was not in his skillset. His lungs were burning, his legs felt like they were filled with lead, and every single step only seemed to sink deeper into the mud, like the earth itself had chosen him as its next victim.

And the worst part?

He knew he was faster than this. Sure, he had never been on James or Sirius’s level, but he could run. Now, though? His whole body felt like it was actively betraying him. His stamina was draining like a leaky faucet, his muscles were aching like he’d already run a marathon, and it was becoming painfully clear that the game had absolutely nerfed him into the ground.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Peter wheezed, barely able to get the words out as he stumbled forward, dodging absolutely nothing and getting whacked in the face by branch after branch.

Meanwhile, James and Regulus were thriving up ahead. Their feet barely touched the ground as they sprinted like Olympic athletes, looking like action heroes in the middle of a dramatic escape scene. Peter, on the other hand, was more like the comedic relief character who dies ten minutes into the movie.

Lily and Sirius had vanished somewhere back in the chaos, and Peter had never felt more abandoned.

And then—just to make his impending death feel even more official—the motorcycle engine behind him roared.

Louder.

Louder.

Louder.

Peter risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately regretted it. The rider was right there, clad in all black, his helmet gleaming ominously. Even through the dark visor, Peter could feel the guy staring him down, like a lion tracking its next meal.

And in this situation? Peter was one hundred percent prey.

“FUCK!” he shrieked, his legs screaming in protest as he tried to push himself harder. But it was no use—his speed was plummeting, his breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps. Every part of him was telling him to just stop running and collapse right there in the dirt.

And honestly? He might have, if Lily hadn’t exploded from the trees like an absolute menace, launching herself into the air with the force of a thousand suns.

Her foot collided with the rider’s helmet in a perfectly executed dropkick, sending the guy flying off the bike like a ragdoll.

The motorcycle, now riderless, swerved violently, making a beeline straight into a tree with a crash. 

Peter skidded to a stop, gasping for air, bent over like he was on the verge of dying on the spot. His entire body was shaking, his muscles burning from exertion like he’d just run a triathlon when, in reality, it had been maybe two minutes of sprinting.

Lily landed gracefully, barely winded, and shot him a smirk. “You’re welcome.”

Peter, still trying to process the absolute miracle that just saved his life, nodded weakly. “Yeah. Uh. Thanks. I think I just saw my ancestors.”

Then, very dramatically, he flopped onto his back in the mud. “Just leave me here. Tell my story.”

“As much as I would love to, especially because you somehow convinced me to play this ridiculous game, I think one excruciating, near-death experience is enough for today,” Lily said, flashing a wry smirk as she extended her hand to Peter. “Now come on. More of those maniacs are coming, and I would really prefer not to meet my end at the hands of a guy on a two-wheeler. It's just... not how I envisioned going out, you know?”

Peter grabbed her hand and pulled himself up, groaning as his legs screamed in protest. “You know, for a moment, I thought this was all a good idea. But now? I’m questioning my life choices,” he panted, looking over his shoulder at the motorcycle gaining on them. “Do you have any idea how fast those things go? My legs are already considering a revolt.”

Lily shot him a mischievous grin. “Oh, please. You’ve handled worse. Remember that time Marlene literally dropped your ass in front of the entire school? That was a real highlight.”

Peter winced. “One time! It was one time, and I will never live it down.”

“Good. It’s a fantastic story,” she teased, increasing her pace. “Now, let’s see if we can out-run this biker, yeah?”

Peter groaned but followed her, wishing more than ever that he hadn’t played the game. 

__________________________

Sirius was, to put it mildly, utterly confused. And it wasn’t just because of the whole ‘trapped in a video game’ scenario—though, okay, that was definitely throwing him off a bit—but it was the fact that, somehow, he’d managed to lose not only Regulus, James, and Peter during the chaotic sprint, but also Lily, who had, for reasons Sirius could not fathom, veered off in the opposite direction.

He wasn’t even sure when it happened. One moment, they were all running in some sort of disjointed herd, and the next, he was alone, with nothing but the sound of his own heavy breathing and the distant roar of engines to keep him company.

And then, of course, there was the whole ‘being chased by a lunatic on a motorcycle’ thing.

Sirius risked a quick glance over his shoulder, only to see not one, but two motorcycles closing in fast—like some kind of sick game of cat and mouse. The riders wore identical black helmets, their faces obscured, but Sirius could practically feel the smugness radiating off them as they revved their engines.

He swallowed thickly.

The first one had blown him up less than five minutes ago. Literally. 

It had not been a pleasant experience.

Sirius, being the composed and fearless individual he definitely was, responded to the situation in the most dignified way possible—by screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Holy shit!” he shouted, arms flailing as he pushed himself to run faster.

The motorcycles revved louder, their headlights cutting through the darkness.

“I swear I have done NOTHING to deserve this—okay, maybe a few things, but NOT ENOUGH FOR TWO BIKERS TO TRY AND KILL ME!” Sirius yelled, nearly tripping over his own feet as he dodged a particularly menacing-looking rock. He could feel the air shift as one of the bikes got dangerously close, the rumbling engine vibrating through his bones.

This was it. This was how he was going to die. Flattened by a fucking motorbike.

And then, in a moment of sheer desperation (and questionable intelligence), Sirius did something absolutely, completely stupid.

He waited until the biker on his left got just close enough, then—without thinking, because thinking was for people who weren’t about to be roadkill—he lunged.

For a split second, time seemed to slow.

Sirius grabbed the biker’s arm, using the man’s own momentum to yank him sideways. The guy let out a startled grunt as he lost control, the bike wobbling beneath him. Sirius, fueled by blind panic and the sheer high of survival, threw himself onto the bike as the rider toppled off with a strangled yell.

The remaining biker skidded to a halt, clearly confused about what had just happened.

Honestly? So was Sirius.

“OH MY GOD THAT ACTUALLY WORKED!” he shrieked, gripping the handlebars like they might explode at any second. The bike swerved dangerously, nearly sending him flying, but somehow—somehow—he steadied himself.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, knowledge flooded his brain. Controls. Maneuvers. He suddenly knew how to drive.

“Ohhh, this game is insane,” Sirius breathed deeply.

With a manic grin, he twisted the throttle, and the bike roared to life beneath him. The second biker must’ve realized what was happening because he took off after Sirius, but now Sirius was the one with the advantage.

“HA! WHO’S CHASING WHO NOW, YOU FUCKING LUNATIC?” Sirius cackled, zipping forward at full speed.

As he rode, the world blurred around him, and up ahead—finally—he saw them.

Lily and Peter were still running like their lives depended on it (because they did), the motorcycle chasing them getting dangerously close.

Sirius leaned forward, heart pounding.

“DON’T WORRY, I’M HERE TO SAVE YOU!” he bellowed as he slammed the bike into the side of the other rider’s vehicle.

The impact sent the biker spinning off course, tumbling into the dirt with a very satisfying thud.

Lily and Peter barely had time to process what just happened before Sirius pulled up next to them, grinning wildly.

“Hop on, peasants!” he declared dramatically, barely keeping the bike steady. “Your noble steed has arrived!”

Peter, breathless, looked at him in horror. “Why are you driving?”

“Because I am fantastic, that’s why. NOW GET ON!”

Lily didn’t hesitate, swinging herself onto the back with ease, while Peter—muttering a string of very rude words—scrambled on behind her, gripping her for dear life.

Sirius revved the engine again, looking over his shoulder at the remaining biker, who was already recovering.

Lily tightened her grip on Sirius’ shoulders, her eyes scanning the dark, chaotic landscape as the wind whipped through her hair. “Okay, not to ruin the moment, but where the hell are James and Regulus?” she demanded, twisting around to check for any sign of them.

Sirius revved the engine, “We’re about to find out.”

__________________________

Regulus was so over this.

From the moment this ridiculous game had sucked them in, he’d known it was going to be a disaster. And yet, somehow, it had managed to be even worse than he expected. He was sprinting at full speed through unfamiliar terrain, dodging debris, and—oh yeah—being actively hunted down by lunatics on motorcycles.

This was, without a doubt, the dumbest situation he had ever been in.

“Remind me again,” he panted, glancing at James, who was running beside him, “why you thought playing this game was a good idea?”

James, despite also gasping for air, managed a lopsided grin. “Because I make terrible life choices?”

Regulus huffed. “Fantastic. Glad we’re on the same page.”

Behind them, the distant growl of engines was growing louder, which meant they were running out of time. James grabbed Regulus’ arm and yanked him sharply to the left, pulling him off the main road and into the cover of the trees. The ground beneath them was uneven, littered with rocks and roots that threatened to trip them up with every step.

“Are we seriously running towards the trees?” Regulus snapped. “This is how people die, Potter.”

“Would you rather not be in the jungle and get flattened by a motorcycle?” James shot back, jumping over a fallen log.

Regulus grimaced but kept running. The undergrowth was thick, branches grabbing at his clothes, but at least the trees slowed the bikers down. The sound of revving engines faltered slightly as their pursuers struggled to maneuver through the terrain.

James glanced back. “I think we lost—”

A bullet whizzed past his ear, embedding itself into a tree trunk with a solid thunk.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” James yelped, ducking instinctively.

Regulus spun around, eyes widening. “They have guns?!”

James didn’t have time to answer before another shot rang out, this one barely missing Regulus’ shoulder.

“Nope. Absolutely not.” James’ voice was tight, urgent, his usual lightheartedness gone. His grip was firm, almost painful, as he dragged Regulus into a dead sprint. “We are running now.”

Regulus stumbled slightly at the sudden force, his heartbeat slamming against his ribs. “James, I can run on my own, you prat—”

Another gunshot. Even closer.

Regulus barely bit back a curse.

James didn’t let go. If anything, he gripped harder.

“Not taking chances!” James panted. “You can punch me later!”

Regulus wanted to snap at him, to demand that he let go, but right now, there were far bigger problems—problems like the two bikers still gaining on them, like the unmistakable sound of bullets hitting trees, like the roar of the engines closing in fast.

They broke into a full sprint, weaving through the trees as more bullets tore through the branches around them. The bikers were getting closer again, even with the jungle 

Up ahead, the tree line thinned, opening up into what looked like a clearing. Relief surged through Regulus—until they burst through the last stretch of trees and realized why the bikers had stopped firing.

Because there was nowhere left to run.

The ground beneath them vanished, replaced by nothing but open air and crashing waves far, far below. The cliffside stretched wide on either side, but there was no easy way down.

James skidded to a stop, barely avoiding going over the edge. Regulus managed to stop himself a few steps behind him, panting as he took in the drop.

“Oh, brilliant,” Regulus muttered, running a hand through his hair. “No we have to jump to oyr death.”

James exhaled sharply, turning back. The bikers were already breaking through the trees, their engines roaring like wild animals ready to pounce.

“This might be our only option,” James said, glancing at Regulus. “Unless you want to stick around and see how good you are at dodging bullets.”

Before Regulus could retort, a much louder engine noise ripped through the air.

Sirius, with a manic grin plastered across his face, came flying toward them on a stolen motorcycle, Lily gripping his shoulders and Peter looking like he was about to be sick. The bike skidded to a messy stop as they pulled up beside them, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“Look who we found!” Sirius declared proudly, like he hadn’t just barely avoided crashing into the ground.

Lily coughed and waved the dust away. “Less talking, more actually surviving, please. The bikers are catching up.”

Peter, still clinging to Lily, pointed frantically behind them. “Yeah, and I’d really prefer not to get shot, thanks!”

Sure enough, the motorcycles were closing in, the riders accelerating toward them.

Sirius, never one to hesitate in a crisis (or ever, really), wasted no time. “Alright, off we go!” he announced and—without another word—he jumped.

Lily followed immediately, diving gracefully into the water, and Peter, after a moment of deep internal suffering, squeezed his eyes shut and flung himself off the edge with a terrified shriek.

Regulus, however, did not move.

James turned to him, frowning. “Regulus?”

Regulus’ jaw clenched. “I—” He exhaled sharply, fists clenching at his sides. “My weakness.”

James blinked. “What?”

Regulus glared at him like he’d just said something idiotic. “I can’t swim, Potter.”

James stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Alright. I’ll carry you.”

Regulus recoiled. “Absolutely not.”

James raised an eyebrow. “So you’d rather stay here and get flattened by a motorcycle?”

Regulus turned slightly, looking at the two bikers closing in. He weighed his options.

Stay and get crushed? Not ideal.

Jump into the water and potentially drown? Also not ideal.

Be carried by James bloody Potter?

Unacceptable.

“I’ll figure something else out,” Regulus said stubbornly.

James rolled his eyes. “Regulus, this is not the time to be difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult! I just don’t want to be—mph!”

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by James grabbing him without warning.

“James, don’t you dare—”

James dared.

With a firm grip around Regulus’ waist, James launched them both off the cliff.

Regulus’ scream of absolute rage was swallowed by the wind as they plummeted toward the water below.