Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[Act 1 My World]

(Overheat - Kevin Macleod)

Something shined too bright for him to ignore any longer. With a disapproving grunt, he scrunched his lids together, fingers twitching awake, becoming aware of the texture of sand as he clenched. Bleary-eyed, he was met by a white noon sun and pale blue skies. 

Squinting, trying to focus, still in the calm daze of a warm summer nap. But when did he lay down to rest? And who was he -

'Alex'. Jay froze to the hot sand, racing over himself - fearing movement would disrupt whatever strange balance or comfort he had. He waited. There was no pain coming from the wound in his gut. No buzzing hornets in his brain. And the sounds … normal. No eerie quiet that preceded that thing's arrival.

The bite of worry finally hit, realizing he didn't hear Tim either. He wasn't that far off right? Jay swore he heard him yelling before … He sat up.

Water. Miles and miles of blue lay flat and undisturbed. Whilst on the shoal of some beach, the waves did not lap at the sand like he would expect. He mentally searched for the camera but it was nowhere on his person, feeling a bit off without it strapped to his chest and recorder in hand.

Lifting his jacket and shirt came next - Stained and black with old blood, still a torn hole. But inspecting the skin, revealed it was only marred and slightly tender to the touch. Same on his back. 'It must've gone through…" But - what didn't kill him must've left some kind of internal damage. Did he even want to know?

He ran fingers shakily over the spot, abdomen tensing, only response a spark to the nerves. Everything was closed and grown over with a thick, brown patch of angry skin, so he let that fear subside, and turned efforts back to pure confusion.

He swiveled his head around before daring to stir and make noise. Behind him, only a few feet through rocks and sand, a line of forest and roots began; thick, much more tangled than anything like Rosswood, Tufts of obstinate grass poked up in patches for any sunlight that managed to break the canopy. No menacing glares. No masked silhouettes. No tall faceless egg head in a suit. Just bird song and the croak of summer frogs.

He stood, slowly, letting his head adjust, rubbing a hand through his hair to find his cap missing with it grown down to his ears. He rubbed his face - scruffy - probably looked disheveled. He might kill for a razor right now. 

That didn't matter. What mattered was movement. Staying alive in the past years meant constantly moving, awake and alert, a clawing anxiety to keep walking like it was the only way to breathe. Losing great chunks of time wasn't new but he needed to figure out where he was, where Tim was. Where Alex was. He gasped. What if Alex had gotten to Tim already? This spurred him to pace faster along the rocky shoreline.

'But this' - he gazed out at the water - 'if this is the ocean, how far am I from Benedict Hall? I don't think there were any big lakes in Rosswood. I would've noticed by now … no no I'm thinking about this wrong. Look at the trees! I don't even know how long it's been I could be thousands of miles away from Alabama and Tim could be long gone -' He recognized the ensuing panic and drowned it with a deep breath. ' He might've won though … yeah he could've won.' He thought. ' Or maybe he moved far away from all of it and started a new life…' 

But would the hooded man even allow Tim to give up? And how far would that thing go to chase its prey? He hated not knowing, waiting around for the answers to kick 'em in the teeth.  

The sun glinting off of something metallic caught his sight, further up the curved beach. Approaching he sidestepped into the cover of the tree stands to view it.

A white van, wheels sunk in the sand, abandoned and left to rot. No signs of life. He proceeded carefully, the front of the vehicle leaning further into the dredge. He peaked through a dirty, but intact windshield. No one inside. He tried the passenger's door. No give. The same when he jiggled the knob of the drivers side. He circled around to the rear of the van, facing the ocean a few yards away. He pulled these doors, but still, no dice. Should he break a window? There were rocks around decent enough for the task

'That would make a lot of noise though'. Wait, why did he care?

Now glancing at the upended bumper, dangling on the lip of the exhaust pipe, were two gold keys on a ring. "Well that was easy." He inserts one and with a satisfying click, the vehicle's lock disengaged. 

The inside was musty but relatively tidy in comparison to the state of the exterior. A dust covered sleeping bag sprawled on the floor, with two plastic work chests strapped to the side of the wall. Opening one, he found some mundane sets of clothing, a brown uniform scrubs, pristinely yellow rain gear, and underneath …

A mask.

But that was somewhat reassuring. Jay wasn't entirely lost. It was similar to Tim's, a flimsy white plastic with dark circles edged around the eyes, and a grid drawn over the mouth … resembling a skull - with eyebrows. He buried it back under the garments for now. Maybe he could change out, wash the stains out of his own stuff?

In the other chest, a basic tool box took up one side. Placed adjacently on the bottom were two axes, a flat and pikehead, red and yellow paint chipping away from the handles. A big ass shovel. Various sized and dented buckets which toppled over in a stack as Jay hoisted them out, and some empty glass bottles. He scrutinized the vans lining, searching for hatches or false bottoms, then crawled over the front seat to shuffle through the glove box compartments. Cleaned out, nothing to identify the owner or insurance, just like the license plates had been removed, and the inspection stickers non-existent. Nothing to tell who, what, and when about the car. He pulled the sun visors down and In the driver's seat, out fell a folded pamphlet. ' Bingo'. 

Unwrapping it showed a neatly hand-drawn map, depicting a small triangular-shaped land mass in the middle of a large body of water. Red markers peppered parts of the beach, and some out in the water. Towards the northwest point, he noted a white sticker … of a van.

'Shit … does that mean-'

He was stuck on an island, god knows where.

Bile rose in his throat. There was no escape if he were chased by that thing - If he were chased by anyone! He could be alone or with someone else and both aspects terrified him endlessly. But he could manage alone. He'd been alone so long. Yes, he could manage that at least.

But if he's alone? It's just him. No grocery stores, motels, or cheap fast-food that he would consider gourmet here. He curled into the passenger's seat, pulling his sneakers onto the dash so that they left sandy prints. The map rested on his lap as he rubbed his face again. 'I can think through this. I have before. I've always found a way if I just THINK.' Bits of Survivor began playing in his head, scraping up what he could remember. Shelter, water, food. Shelter, water, food. In that order. If he could repeat that in his head he could keep his remaining sanity.

Shelter: The van could serve as that perfectly, he didn't have to build anything, which in full honesty - he could not do.

Water: That's the first issue. There's buckets, if he waited for it to rain, maybe he could boil that. But what if it's too acidic? He had no idea if boiling even helped that issue! Should he even be concerned with acid rain right now? And when would it even rain? The sky was cloudless. He could only survive 3 days without water, much less before - No don't think about that Jay. Don't think about it. 

An idea. The trees had to have some kind of water in it right? Was it even safe? It had to be partially filtered - but they could be poisonous already. Could he boil that? How would he go about collecting -

He flipped the map over to see scurried yet legible English. The way it was scrawled he feared Alex for a moment, but it was not his handwriting.

"NO LARGE PREDATORY ANIMALS. NO PEST BUGS. NO SPIDERS. I HATE SPIDERS. ANIMALS NON-COMBATIVE BUT NOT SHY EITHER." They were bulleted notes apparently. "NO MORE THAN 2̶ ̶K̶L̶I̶C̶K̶S̶  A SQUARE MILE. CREEK BEGINS AT PEAK. SMALL CAVES NEAR VAN, NOT DEEP ENOUGH TO GET LOST. BE CAREFUL OF COLLAPSING SAND. DON'T EAT THE RED MUSHROOMS. BERRIES SAFE? SAFE IN SMALL NUMBERS. WILL VOMIT IF YOU EAT TOO MUCH. THEY REALLY SUCK." It continued like this for a while on, but Jay absorbed all of it, as his life quite literally depended on it. Small blurbs about the island's terrain, what to do and what not to do. "Lots of buried stuff" what was this, a pirate's map? The points started to take a sharp turn towards cryptic and yet, comical.

"UNHEALTHY AMOUNT OF FISHING POLES AT THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN. LOOKS LIKE SPIDER LEGS. I HATE SPIDERS. OCEAN ISN'T DEEP. NOT A STANDARD OCEAN. THERE ARE NO SEASONS JUST RAIN. DID I MENTION THERE WERE NO SPIDERS?"

The sky was still clear as far as Jay could tell, how old was this information? And then something downright peculiar finished the notations. 

"IT NEVER STOPPED RAINING. NOT AFTER 40 DAYS, NOT AFTER 40 YEARS. THE ARK IS HERE."

Chills ran down his being, and he spoke out loud the first time since he awoke "The ark is here ." Silent once more. 'ToTheArk'. A hundred thoughts bubbled and only yielded more and more unsolved questions that Jay could barely process. 'Did ToTheArk write this? It sure doesn't feel like their kind of thing. Is it just coincidence? No it can't be. It's too weird. This smells like the usual bullshittery. Is it literal or figurative? What is the ark? Blah blah blah blah-' 

Jay had spent most of his time cracking codes, assuming the ark was just another one of them. He never considered it a physical thing. 'You will lead me to the ark. The ark is here.' God was someone here with him? Who would be so desperate to get to a deserted island? 'Well maybe it's whatever is located at these red spots. Maybe the person behind this wants whatever "stuff" is buried. Maybe … maybe …' 

He found it increasingly hard to focus now. He needed to eat to think, blood sugar likely dropping from the lack of food. Shelter, water, food. Shelter, water, food. There's a creek further in it said. That is the water. If there's animals, there's food. 

With the sun hanging sometime past noon, Jay decided he was going to need to secure some means of survival if he really wanted to focus on the map. He somewhat missed the old days of running on caffeine and greasy junk food, or peanut butter crackers from a convenient store, crumbs always inumerable despite his best efforts to contain them. Now that he had to actually focus on his health, well - it was not something he was used to.

He grabbed two pails, deciding he could manage that much water within a mile. It wasn't necessarily that he trusted the map, more that he wanted to, needed to. It kept him level-headed, something to go off of. 

So he was going to follow it - for now anyways. He decided he would change his clothes after the escapade; sweat in the ones that are already dirty. He was careful with the map, tucking it in his jean pocket folded as nicely as it had been found. Taking a last look, he chose the pike head axe. It was at least some kind of protection for a stranger in a strange land. Maybe he could get something to eat with it …  having to kill some poor animal was a thought he had been trying to avoid. He'll look for plants first. (As if he knew what was edible)

Scanning over one last time through a crack between the door and the van wall, he stepped out and locked the van again on the way, placing the keys in the non-bullet-hole pocket, and set off into the thick.

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Chapter Text

(River Fire - Kevin Macleod)

Jay discovers fairly soon that the twisted wall of branches only borders the ocean. Inside this barrier grows trees more similar to the Magnolia's and beautiful Angel Oaks, raining with ivy vines, that he's more used to in the South. He moved with care, root bumps everywhere are concealed by dead leaves. A relaxing breeze manages to find him in the thicket, but he doesn't think he can ever let his guard down again. 'Sure it's pretty now, what's it like after dark.' He looks up to the chittering of angry squirrels, noting their pure white fur. Though - Still no feeling of being followed. 

Further in the slope increases, mossy boulders jutting out. The creek was "near the peak" - up had to be the right way to go. His gut twists further, really not in the mood for a tumble in the leaves, halting at a high ridge stretching in either direction. He chose the right, walking inland - if he was understanding the map right. He kept a few feet back, fearing a rock fall. 

The ridge curves inward, a crevice a few yards wide, with the echo of flowing water and pattering on the rocks, rounding the corner, area increasingly narrow, until the source of the sound was revealed. A story-high waterfall cascaded off the stone, and flowed out down crags below him. This would do for now, he figures a larger creek must be up the sheer cliff face. He isn't going to risk climbing it now... Or perhaps, there's another way around?

He collects two pails of water, but then sets them down.

He might be able to follow the water down... It pours through a small tunnel in the rock, and Jay can see light on the other side. 

It's a steep and precarious going. He scoots to the drop and put a foot down, fixing his sneaker to a rock. Satisfied there's no give, he leans weight into it, moving down rock by rock, steady. He recalls rock climbing being more Brian's thing. 

"Always have three points of contact so you don't fall. Don't get ahead of yourself!" Brian sounds happy in his memories -

His shoe scuffs against algae and he slips, the feeling of his nails digging into grime before he totally falls off with a gasp.

Rock, water, sky flies past him as he slides across rough edges and sharp points, scraping his arms up uselessly looking for a hold, feet finally contacting enough ground to come to a halt, bracing against the wall, breathing heavily, before looking over his shoulder to find he'd reached the bottom - banged up, but alive. 

He's saturated in mud, plants, probably smelled wretched, and still stuck with sand and old blood. He wants to scrape his flesh off. But he has found what he'd hoped for; The falls open into a much larger creek, sun glinting off the surface - and the silvery scales of fish.

He hadn't caught, much less killed a fish before, much rather prefering them as pets. There was the occasional dismal fishing trip his father would try to take, as it was a "father's duty" to teach his son how to "live off the land". Too bad he didn't know how to fish either, so they'd spend awkward hours of silence waiting for something to happen. His father would give tips eventually, but they were nothing worthwhile, just words to fill the air. One time they went to the grocery store to get a fish that was already dead. Dad said it would make mom happy if her son had caught a fish … But Jay thinks she knew all along. She'd still put on a smile and ruffle his hair fondly, ask him how big and strong he would grow up to be one day.

"And here we are." He had gone from a film major to a paranoiac running around with no job, no money, and friends his parents wouldn't ever have approved of. 

Did he regret it?

….

Jay didn't know the answer to that.

Anyways - How hard could it be?!? Just catch and … drown a fish… just throw a fish on the land. No he couldn't do that in good conscience. Maybe he'd throw it on the land, and hit it with the axe. Yes, that would have to do. 

He wades a few feet out, still in his pants, trying to spot a fish. They dart around incredibly fast. He figures maybe a lunging technique is at hand. But even when he swears he is above one, the refraction throws him off.

One lunge too many past his center of gravity, and he topples once more that day into the creek. It wasn't deep, but in his panic, he fails to realize that, kicking and flailing. His clothes weigh him down, tangling his legs together - he could see the light shining through the green surface and heard ringing behind his forehead, 'Stand up Idiot'. His feet touch the bed and he stands, shoulders easily above water. He scrambles out to the bank and collapses in a mess of heavy-breathing like an angry cat. It had only been a few seconds, but it could be hours just the same. It's … quiet … under there. 

Damn his stomach, he's had enough - soaked to the bone and refusing to be among the trees at night. Not alone, never again. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

He scales the way he came, slippery, but this time, never falling. Once his feet are in solid dirt he picks his pails up making the journey back to the van. At least the terrain was recognizable.

He weaves through the thick branch wall to see the bright vehicle still there, a giddy feeling budding in his chest. He set the tins to the side of the van.

'Water. We've gotta boil the water.'

He took the axe with him to the treeline. Sticks and stones may break my bones but can also make a fire. Some of it is loose enough to pull off, throwing them in a pile, but he needs bigger logs to boil with. He sets his eyes on a sizable root.

He does his best to raise the axe up, swinging down. Instead of what he hoped, it bounces off the log at an angle - momentum taking him with it. He tries this twice more, still deflecting. 'Am I really this weak?' He sighs.

But maybe… he tries emulating what he had seen on television. Gripping the thing with both hands, raising it high above his shoulder, feet apart to avoid the knee. He brought it down, this time throwing his back into it - a burst of pride when it hits straight, leaving a sizable chink in the wood.

'Trial and error' He beams.

With each cut he finds it easier to manage, to understand, what it should feel like as it makes contact and reverbs through his arms. He has himself a good log. 'I should make this a trophy.'

"Ha." snuffing out loud for the first time in forever.

He knows enough on how to start a fire from a not-so-legal college party. The first and last he ever would go to - Alex thought it would be educational, and ended up leaving an hour in, pulling Jay with him and complaining about all the underage drinking and general "melarchy"... He doesn't want to think about Alex now.

He picks out what he hopes to be flint, and strikes the butt end of the axe until sparks fly out, landing in the dry grass kindling. Finally, it sticks and grows to the twigs. He pushes more fuel into it, semi-wishing he had smores right now. Water would have to do. He tries clearing a platform in the middle of the fire, a little space to set the bucket, then the other, squeezed next to it, careful not to spill.

'There's gotta be something to eat…'

A small gail blowd the scent of salt in his face. On the way over, there was plenty of vegetation growing on the rocks … seaweeds edible right? Well - he's either going to go hungry or find out. 

After bringing back a bucket full of green and brown soggy strands, he chooses to rid himself of the disgusting clothing, stripping down to his undergarments, and setting them on the van hood, leaving the task for later.

But as for the Seaweed … not too sure. Did you just … eat it like it was? Maybe he should wash it first though... He scoops a glob full of yucky green into clear water. It would have to work for now. 

He notices the beginning signs of boiling, his third victory of the day. But any cheer is choked out of him by the sky turning a pinkish hue. 

He soon laces a stick under the bucket handles, lifting them one, then the other, off to cool. When he dares sticking his hand in the seaweed, he pulls out a long strip, smelling it hesitantly. 'Here goes nothing and everything'. He tears off a bit of the fibrous leaf. It was salty, but not bad. He could eat almost anything right now. So he made a meal of this one ingredient "seaweed soup". He uses the glass bottles to collect water from the other bucket, drinking one down and storing the rest. He lets the fire continue to burn. 

It's getting dark now. He climbs in the van with his keys and axe, and triple checks that everything's locked from the inside. He didn't want to get the sleeping bag any dirtier than it already was, and opted to slip out of his underwear and into the uniform slacks in the chest. He sat the axe next to the bag. He was about to lie down but couldn't accept that the windows were uncovered, so he goes around to cloak those. Checking the locks a fourth time, he curls into the sleeping bag defensively, pulling it up to his mouth. He keeps his eyes shut, the childhood logic of "If I can't see it, it can't kill me," wrapped in his brain.

At least with a belly full of strange ocean plants and water, he's content enough. He feared insomnia but with all the turmoils of the day, sleep has mercy on him. Drifting, he wonders where Tim was. Was he sleeping? Maybe he was lying in bed just like this. 'I hope he's safe.'

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Chapter Text

(Crowd Hammer)

There's no ignoring the sore muscles and bruises as Jay awakes in warmth, What little spots of light coming through the windows illuminate the dust particles floating softly in the air. He scrapes a hand through oily hair, deciding something needs to be done about it. Now. Figuring out what is going on is probably more important but he's going to start fidgeting if he can't get clean-ish.

He knows about certain plants he could grind up for soap from a paranoid google search he made once - But what they actually looked like … no clue. He knows what a Willow tree looks like, kinda. 

He feels like sinking down and dying rather than do these tasks. He doesn't know where he is or what he's even doing. Was it even useful? But he supposes it could be worse - The map notes are a lifeline. That single phrase "The ark is here" kept him going - a reason for him to be here, to still be alive. So goddamnit, if he has to figure out how soap is made, he's gonna do it. 'Can only get further if I'm alive…' But he doesn't know if he should play the waiting game or go searching.

More walking is in store, around the beach this time, the other direction of where he woke up. The sandbank is larger out here, less rocky, and the branch wall gives way into less spiraling trees. He even finds exactly where the creek split into a delta, out to sea. He coulg get across most of the gaps with a leap, but this one - he didn't vouch on making. He's still dressed in the brown scrubs from the night before, so he takes them off, rolling his pants legs up, and traverses the stream. After a few more of these he saw the telltales leaves of a Willow next to the water up ahead - maybe he is having a streak of luck. 

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He cooks another pot of seaweed, while experimenting with the Willow fronds. The right combo of water and friction are supposed to produce some kind of suds - Nothing fancy but it would wipe away the grime at least, where he wants to tear at his skin again. He sets his cuisine aside and returns down to the creek with the clothes he had arrived in - attempting once more to lather the leaves. He tries washing his jacket in the bucket, before dipping it in the stream, repeating this, until finally some progress is made on the old red. He just has to keep at it. Soon he's waist deep in the creek trying to vigorously scrub the dirt and stains from the tiny, criss-crossed threads. 

This doesn't feel so bad … It's small, but it's progress. Jay has to be doing something right. He uses some leaves to wipe his teeth down - picking over himself meticulously - the taste is bitter but not horrid, spitting it out with a swig from the glass bottle. 

Satisfied enough with the clothes, he puts them in their own bucket - Buckets are becoming Jay's favorite thing -besides cameras. 

He guesses the best way to clean one's self out here os to strip down and the self-consciousness brings a familiar panic back. He hasn't double checked his surroundings. Flinging his head back and forth, waiting for movement for the shadows the footsteps the shouts the static. 

…

It is quiet. Nothing is moving just beyond his view waiting to bite. He identifies the sounds one by one. The creek babbling. Wind and leaves. Birds singing.  And himself. 'I'm still alive because my heart beats right here. He places his hand over his chest, and sure enough he can feel it thumping away. He's ok.

Slowly, he turns back to the task at hand. He sinks up to his neck in the brook, a chilly but comfortable cold, as he dissolves away the sweat, dirt, blood and the rest of the ecosystem with the leaf water. He bites his nails down to the skin, always hating, detesting when crud collected under them. He dunks his head under, scraping the oil he can out, using the rest of the mixture to do so.

He returns to "camp" and rests his clothes on the windshield to dry, eats more seaweed, then decides to take inventory on the tool box. It's akin to the kind his father had safe stocked in the back of the garage - The grand total of four times Jay remembered him actually working on the car. But they're all conveniently labeled, like they're intended to be used by someone unfamiliar - someone like himself. A "K-Tool Kit" No idea what to use it for. A couple of small mallets safeguarded with rubber, assortments of handheld screwdrivers, pliers, a small pile of red knots, all attached to one another, some kind of air-bag contraption and a pile up of different pocket knives. 

He flips through all of the knives, picking one out with a razor and sharpening it. Sliding it along his face, it's slow going, but doable. He went to town, gently sliding hair off until he resembles himself again. Then, he takes to his head. He isn't any kind of barber, so he has to feel the length out. He gets it to just about where he wanted, and holds it out from his head, cutting through it with the razor. Before long he has short tufts sticking here and there, which he can smooth down, but at least now he felt "clean". He could focus.

Focus on what exactly? With his tasks complete - the thoughts swarm. Thinking of everything he's been through, all that progress, and now he's stuck … wherever here is, sitting like a bump on a log. You let them down.

He recalls the writing on the mirror of Tim's House.

"LAST CHANCE ⨂"

He sifts through his stuff, unfolding the map once more. He could guess the relative distance based on how far he walked …

'That one' one of the closer marks, X in a red crayon on yellowed paper. It's the closest to the shoreline. No more than 30 meters out. He can make that. Totally.

Chapter Text

Flashback

(Jay)

(Blue Sizzle)

"Shittt" that thing had teleported him somewhere and he was dying. He had to be dying. The camera was gone. His knife was gone. 

The bullet wasn't even the worst of it. His abdominal muscles contacted horribly, vainly trying to seal off the area so he wouldn't bleed out. It was akin to the worst runner's cramp ever. And he felt sick, he knew something was out of place. 

Don't think about it.

His guts could be mangled right now.

Don't think about it.

What if they fall out?

DON'T THINK ABOUT IT.

No no they weren't going to fall, the contortion reminded him of this. He was in the field behind Alex's old house. And it was dark again like that fateful night. 

There was a warmth he'd hack up through his nose, running down again to his mouth and he didn't want to know what it tasted like. He could feel the static ramping up behind his nose, rattling his frontal bone, making his eyes water. 

He fought for breath, rolling onto his side to try and spit liquid out, to stop choking. 

It was here though. Get away. How could he though?

It's long arm shot out grabbing him again as he moved plateaus with a sickening thud. This thing was throwing him around like a play toy.

Because he's finally won. He has me down and wounded. 

Jay felt a resurgence of anger in his panic.

It's celebrating.

It finally got the thorn in its side.

A 7 year menace that managed to escape every time.

It's weak. 

Why didn't it go after everyone it could? Feast away on the earth? Why did it shatter and break cameras to static. Is that why Alex drew. Because it was the only way to tell the world.

It's weak.

It needed something else to trap its prey.

In his final moments, heart racing from blood loss, his eyes burst wide. 

'It's weak: It can't handle all of us together. It can't

take on numbers. That's why. That's why.'

The man in the hood, alone. Trying to call for help. To get help. But he didn't trust us either...

Alex … you we're … alone. And it got you … you knew, but it was too late.

Just like me.

Just li-

It was too cold to continue.

Chapter Text

(Sea - Houseki no Kuni)

Jay's toes dig into the shallows. Waves have picked up a little bit, lapping at his knees. He shoves along a log, a makeshift flotation device. 

'This is it.'

He pushes his way through the break, log not cooperating with him whatsoever. When he reaches the point where his toes could not dig into the bottom, he slings himself over the log and kicks.

This was a stupid horrible idea. 'Just gotta keep moving before I can tap out.' 

It feels like he was going nowhere in the water, but looking over his shoulder every so often, the beach grows farther away. It's only a hundred feet out. Not that far. And it can't be that deep … right?

But Jay has lost the ability of rational thought ages ago. Should he close his eyes and feel around? Open them? Oh well. He took deep breaths, refusing to back down. At least the waves were steadier out here.

Satisfied with the distance, he holds his breath, ducking his eyes in the water. But he can't see anything but blue. He would have to go down.

With a sigh, he lets go of his lifeline. 

He floats freely in the ocean. A small man in the abyss. He looks at the sky for a moment, drowning out negative thoughts. 

And he dives.

Jay wasn't known to be a great swimmer. Didn't enjoy it much either. The kind of kid at a birthday party to sit at the table and drink juice pouches while others splashed chlorine all over the concrete. He could swim enough to stay alive, but fighting against floating upwards was a different story.

But something comes into view. It is … a fishing bob. A black line attached to it and retreating into the shadows. But he needs air, and rises to the surf, gasping for breath.

'Alright. There is something."

So he plummets again. He reaches the fishing line, avoiding the hook, and tugs. Whatever holds it down is anchored. He uses the string as leverage and pulls himself down. For some reason he doesn't feel the immediate itch for air he has the first time.

Coming into view, more and more sea hooks, floating up from some unknown bottom like kelp. He's surrounded, outnumbered - but he keeps going. 

Light. A soft incandescent lamp shines … under the ocean. A metal hatch of sorts beneath it, weighted with gravel. The fishing poles are also stuck in the gravel. He finds a handle and tries the door, too heavy. He plants his feet pulling desperately before the need for oxygen screamed in his head.

He sits several minutes at the surface, feeding his starved lungs.

'This isn't right it wouldn't be this deep out here. Fishing rods don't sit in gravel. Wrong wrong wrong.' But he shoved it all away.

Third time's the charm. He plunges down as fast as possible, trying to save air time. Down the line, to the lamp, gripping the handle. He pushes gravel with his bare hands, they would burn later. His feet slip against green algae on the door, but the momentum was enough. In a flash of ocean dust and escaping air, it opens. Quickly peering in, he notes it'd only the size of a cabinet. A single wooden chest, small enough to carry, lay ajared against the sidewall. It doesn't appear to be rotting at all under all this saltwater. No time for that. He plucks the box.

A sharp pain shoots him (again) almost releasing his air. His back spasms from the spot on his abdomen. 'It's not fully healed. Of course it's not.' 

He moves, but his wrist catches, tangled in a line. "How … I wasn't near them…" Now he's beginning to panic, he unwraps the coord from his feet only to find he is bound in the stuff. Trapped. Pulling him like a spiderweb. He thrashes about, trying to dislodge the poles from the bottom.

He screams, loud and clear even in the thick crushing water. When he tugs hard enough at the pole, a hand pokes out of the gravel. 'Oh god what have I done what have I done I'm going to join them. Down here. No one will ever know.'  

Roaring in his ears. 

LAST CHANCE ⨂. 

More hands reach from the bottom. 

"NO YOU LISTEN TO ME! YOU CAN KEEP PLAYING YOUR LITTLE DETECTIVE GAMES ALL YOU WANT, BUT DO ME A FAVOR AND STAY OUT OF MY LIFE!"

The arms were made of stone. Statue. He fought for his life.

Lakes In Stillness Will Take Every life of the Night. 

LISTEN.

He bites at the wires digging into his wrist.

"I don't know. This town just doesn't feel the same to me anymore. I missed it so much when I was in college. But now that I'm back… I just feel like a depressed teenager all over again, stuck in a loop of unhappiness." 

What?

"When I first moved here, I remember hearing a story that back in the 1800s they thought this place was blessed because everything would grow so fast. They would take their worst criminals, murderers, child molesters and they would put them on trial before God out here. They would tie them up to the trees, and the idea was that they would get stretched out, kind of like a rack. They never fed or gave them water though, so they would just die of dehydration."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"They never cut down the bodies, they would just burn the whole tree with them still on it. They stopped doing it though after the kid went missing, and he finally turned up in the area where they would do the trials. He had been dismembered and strung up."

"So is this why we are out here, to look at trees and tell spooky ghost stories?"

" Come here."

'Let go of me.'

---

The he but not he awakens.

"Let. Go." The lines burst out from him, snaking away. The fishermen crumble to stone dust.

He but not he walks across the floor, fishing rods floating to the surface with nothing to hold them down.

He but not he does not need to breathe here but he would soon. He wouldn't last.

Grabbing the box, he walks forward into the ocean forest.

"Foolish. Drowning in your own home. Irresponsible."

Fish swim between the branches, colorful orbs against the deep blue. He reaches the ridge, and let's himself float up. 

"The idiot. Didn't even realize it's a straight drop off 10 feet in. Reckless … but that's how he got here in the first place."

He walks onto the beach, clothes dissolving just as they had appeared into the water.

"Not much longer, you hermit fool."

Chapter Text

(Early Afternoon - Houseki no Kuni)

"Mmph."

This time he is face down in the sand, crusting to drool leaking from his mouth. He pushes himself to his knees groggy, like he just had a deep afternoon nap. The sun is wrapping a blanket around him. 

He had a bad dream - that was it - picturing the fishing poles and the statues. A distinct nightmare of Alex and someone else yelling at him. But why is he laying out in the sun with nothing but a tank top and boxers?

His eyes land on the wooden box from his "dream". 

Oh.

"WHAT THE F-" he covers his mouth on instinct, scanning the tree line. Still quiet. Still calm.

"I'm alive … again… This is too weird." Pushing to his feet, he brushes away the grit that he could. Great, another bath was in store. Was it even worth it? He looks out over the ocean, the boundary between earth and sky, witnessing hundreds of fishing poles floating, some already washed up on the beach. Another affirmation. 

"Ungodly amount of fishing poles." he growls "you didn't say anything about … the other … stuff."

Maybe he was hallucinating it. But the operator turned out not to be one…

Whatever. He can't think about it now. Open the box. Yes. Open the box. It pulls at him and he forgets everything else.

Consume.

"Huh!" A sound echoes against invisible walls. His pulse thrums to life again. 'I don't want to be here.' Before he could take another step, a sound again. This time he hears it coming, a shrill ring behind his skull.

EAT. LIVE.

There's some tug at his wrist, but when he moves, he finds no resistance. He turns back to the fishing poles. Maybe … I can catch something? Yes I should make use of these while I can.

Tucking the box under his shoulder, he pulls a rod out of the water, much taller than himself. The string follows, the same length of the pole. The base has a spike connected to it. 

He appraises the thing like an ornament. He knew jack about what a pole should look like, except that they usually weren't this long, and they reel in with a pulley.

He drags it with him to camp, ignoring the box for the time being. The creek would be a better chance than the ocean. He has actually seen fish there. 

So he does just that, and after hours of trying and failing to get anything on the line itself, he went looking for grubs, digging his hands into the old bark of a fallen tree, picking up the white squirming things. He doesn't like puncturing them on the hook, sticky white worm blood drying to his hands. ' Sorry Guys' . To kill one thing, so you can kill another. An odd feeling. But food is food and food is life. He couldn't stand another bucket full of seaweed.

More failures, more frustration. The sky is glowing orange and he still wouldn't be away from the fire in this dark. 

He picks up the spear with strength he doesn't possess, aiming it at the wobbly refraction of a fish. 

'lower' but it was not he who thought. 

Before realizing what he is doing, a fish is impaled on the end of the rod. He can't believe it.

He tries repeating what he had done, feet steady on the creek bed, looking down the pole, and running it forward. He fails this time, but realizes the mistake. Don't jab. Go through. Past the fish. And he was successful.

--- 

 (Blending Souls & Shades - Dhafer Youssef)

He sits at the fire, watching the fish smoke, beginning to wonder how he should debone the thing. 

It's night. Jay kicks back and stumbles in the sand, fighting some invisible air monster. 

'What the hell have I been doing! I've been spaced out all day, it's dark out oh no' Left. 'oh no' Right 'oh no' Left.

He didn't like the dark. When did he become so afraid of it? Which life or death moment finally pushed him into fear? Or was it everything combined? 

A flood of memories thick in his throat, trying to kill him. Ending him.

He pauses in the sand, water droplets hitting the ground. 'But it's not raining …' 

It is himself. Tides flooding forward. When did he last cry like this? He's just a small child to this foreign world. Blinking through the tears, he watches the dark forest waiting for death.

But it is all ok. It's bright out. The moon turns the sea into a giant white reflection. He looks up at a thousand stars, it was not dark at all … A glistening ceiling towering over him, but not consuming, not overbearing. Miles and miles of lights floating above him. Salt, leaves, smoke, all of this filling his lungs.

The forest is alive, crickets and wind and owls. All a pale albino in color but alive nonetheless. The fire cracks, embers floating up and away.

And Jay knows.

'I'm safe…'

The thick layer of anxiety bearing on his chest has no hold here anymore. It crumbles, bit by bit, plaster falling away. Away for good. 'Free me.'

"Everything is … Fine."

-A week time skip because fuck-

(Coral Reef - Subnautica)

It was a rainy one today, but still warm. Jay likes it because it washes him off. He finds a tranquility in his daily duties of boiling water, fishing, cooking, and cleaning, it was the one thing he refuses to give up. With those tasks set aside, he focuses on the wooden box he had pulled up, and the several others.

He had gotten a sunburn from the day he, apparently, washed up on the beach, but it peeled and tanned over in no time. It's a hassle to keep clothes clean, so he mostly moves around in his shorts, or his jacket lazily slung over his shoulders. At home he wouldn't be caught dead with his shirt off, but no bugs or thorns bit and tear at him here. The floor of the van isn't very comfortable anymore, and the same day he decided to move it, a segment of the beach caved in. The initial fall surprised him, but he remembered the detail from before. It was correct, three branching tunnels snake down into the ground, a bit ways inland, but none so far that he can't see the moon light. He checks the areas above them, knocking loose sand in before it can catch him off guard. This provided at least three entrances to the cave. He moves the fire down her as well, smoke flowing out of one entrance - Then his sleeping bag -  and packs its underside with copious amounts of willow, creating a suitable nest. The fire is warm enough, he doesn't need a blanket with his clothes on, and he doesn't feel the commonplace fear of exposure.

What is in the wooden box? Yet another map … Detailing another area of the ocean floor. It's gray and dark with a charcoal like substance, but the box had protected it from the water. 

He had dived twice more for more boxes. One had yet another map, but the other held useful little trinkets, scissors, pens. Oh - it made him sore - but he is … stronger now. He can hold his breath much longer, conserving the air he has with careful movements. He isn't a wet sock no longer. The emptiness of the ocean doesn't bother him anymore. Thinking of it, nothing much did. There are fishing rods still, but not in the massive quantities like before. They never try snagging him again.

His eyes adjust quickly to the water. Still fuzzy, but dilated so he could see the structures littering the gravel floor. The beach drops off straight into deep water.

This afternoon he wants to see what the other side has to offer. He had thoroughly explored the woods, but never the beach beyond that of the willow creek delta.

The beach shrinks back here, giving way to a cliff face, almost a straight drop. The waves do not beat aggressively against it though. He balances on the rocks there, water lapping at his makeshift sandals. 

The sea was a lighter blue here, indicating not to be like the sheer drop the other side is. Maybe the island is perched on an ocean shelf?

He sinks himself into the water, quiet ripples echoing as he pushed off. In about 10 meters, he notices the splashes of color beneath him. Sticking his face underneath, he is instantly surrounded by a coral reef. Hes surprised at the clarity in his vision, just like wearing goggles. Colors and textures of every kind bloom in massive ledges around him. Fish of all sorts and sizes swim around, but they're all a blank white against the contrasting scene. Some plants give off light, growing from the sandy ocean floor. He has seen pictures but never … never been in one. All this life, so happy and colorful. A fish gets a bit too close to Jay and puffs up, a big white balloon. He almost snorts his air out under the water. 

He would come up for momentary breaths, diving straight back under to look at the sights. He sees the larger form of another animal floating by in the distance. A shark? No, this didn't move like a shark. Whatever it is, speeds toward him. 'It's a dolphin.' A white dolphin to match every other thing. It gets within a few feet of him and he stops moving as it roves around him with curiosity, probably trying to figure out what he is. It's a beautiful thing, but he doesn't fancy getting to close, so he slowly paddles onward.

Well now this just wouldn't do for the mammal - It follows him around, clicking and buzzing in some unknown language. Even going up with him for air and back down again. It is cute, but more than anything Jay's really getting uncomfortable. The animal is twice his size and a bit rambunctious. But he doesn't make like he's trying to run. 'Just keep swimming and maybe it will get bored.' 

No. He thought so when it sped off, but moments later his friends are coming back with him. 'Am I going to be murdered by a gang of dolphins?' He chortles nervously. 

The sea animals though, apparently, think he is the best thing since sliced bread. "Tag the Jay" is the new game of their unconsenting victim.

Jay has little clue which direction he is swimming in now, trying to avoid the dolphins who keep bumping their sharp snouts into him, before speeding off, expecting him to chase. 'I'm really not interested guys please.'

Something ahead looks less natural than the coral, and he approaches. The barnacled mast of an old ship, now overgrown in Coral, presides above a wreck. It has decayed mostly by now, vegetation and animals overtaking it like it was just another feature in the land. The dolphins nose him towards it.

'Please don't be any skeletons please don't be any skeletons.' He prays. 

He takes a peek inside the torn hull. Gosh maybe he really is a pirate now. A few crates lay splintered and opened, but one, small enough for him to pick up, remains generally intact. He doesn't like being in a closed area underwater, and quickly back-pedals out with the box. The dolphins were still waiting, trying to bop him towards the surface for air. 

Soon they lost interest in playing with him, and stay back to following him around as he swims along the reef shelf back towards the island. It seems to head out about a mile or so, curling around a good portion. 

The sky is tinting orange already. He floats on his back. This has become a ritual for the last few nights. He can float out in the water until the stars came out. Far enough out, the water was still, and reflected the sky. It is like he's in space. But not in the daunting cold fear that space likely is.

He's alone. But not lonely. Ok maybe a little bit. He hopes he's in a good place. Maybe his disappearance would throw that thing off. Maybe Tim was doing alright now … he hopes. He doesn't remember what happened after he left Tim that voicemail, until getting shot. He heard Tim yelling from somewhere … he must've been close by. How much time had passed? Oh well. It isn't going to help him now. 

Jay backstrokes around the island, closer to his camp, so he won't have to walk too far. He sloshes up the shore, water pouring down in little streams off his shoulders. He shakes his hair out like a wet dog, and wipes his salt parched eyes.

Tan and Black. He stares ahead stuck in his tracks.

'It's him!'

ToTheArk stands in an awkward slant, staring straight back at Jay.

Chapter Text

(Mystic Force - Kevin MacLeod)

'Should I move?'

Both are frozen in an invisible draw.

Every other attempt to make contact with the person ended in a running spree, and eventually losing him. He belonged to the woods.

Jay reaches a hand out. The man bolts.

'Shoot!' "Wait!"

Beligning towards the trees, they have no problem vaulting over the bracken. 

'Not this time bud.' Jay is behind him, the foliage only a mild deterrent to him now. But like time, he is gone. Hoodie and all. Jay whirls around in the trees. 'There's no way, unless he climbed, he's got to be nearby. It was only a few seconds.' But scanning the tree tops prove to no avail.

"Hello?" Maybe negotiations were in order. "I just want to talk!" No reply but the night time air.

'The van … shoot!' He could take the supplies from it. 'Maybe even kill me.' But it settled to Jay that he would've died long ago if the hooded man had wanted it. No, he has something else in mind.

Reaching the van, it's alone, nothing disturbed. He locks it. He supposes he could just break the windows, but that would cause too much noise, and "quiet" was 80 percent of his personality, honestly.

'This island isn't that big, he can't hide forever.' He had spooked the man this time, but if he could get closer next time … maybe. Just maybe.

'He's in my playing field now.' The thought startles Jay, he didn't like it. 

'Or has he been here the whole time?' That is even worse. It meant his senses had been failing him, that while he felt safe he had been watched the whole time. 'No. I know he wasn't here.' Jay has more confidence in himself than ever.

'Give him the night.' Yes, he thought. Wait for the daylight. He can't go anywhere. They'd have to run into each other at some point. 

Just be patient … 'Yeah right' . Jay having patience was equivalent to the phrase "when pigs fly". 'But hey I bet pigs have flown before in other ways!'

He isn't going to sleep in the van, cowering away. He would stay in the cave, as he did now every night. He won't back down now, this is his -

What is it? 

He knows the words he wants to say but doesn't have the courage to think of them yet. Not yet.

He had been sleeping with the dusk, rising with the sun. He was quick to adapt when there were no buzzing screens to inspect through the night. He's also rather enjoying not waking with a headache every morning. Even the shadows from his eyes have started to fade.

'Well … goodnight.'

---

Either he slept like a rock or nothing had fiddled with his stuff. No footprints in the sand either. He considers taking an axe with him, but figures with his luck, it would be turned against him. So he chooses the small rusty knife he found in one of his free dives. Perfect for Tetanus. 

He begins his walk in the wooded area, acting normally, 'just looking for plants to eat'. But he knows the eyes follow him. They're deadly quiet, and he doesn't know which direction they peer from, but they're there. A night without water. That couldn't have been great.

He makes a noticeable path before disappearing behind the ridge, out of sight. He's just gonna keep walking this way. He returns to the cliffed side of the island, and sneaks down to the beach. He passes the delta, carefully wading in the strong water.

Jay is now back near the camp, and hiding in the tree fronds, he waits.

Not ten minutes later, movement darts below him in the bushes. He pulls himself further into the twisted vines. No sight. No sound. 'I'm not here'. 

They move fast out onto the sand. Jay notez the way they step, leaving little to no idents.

'Clever bastard.'

They take a quick sweeping look, before approaching the van. The light shows a large stain of dried blood on the back of the article.

Jay lowers himself from the tree, so, so carefully. 

They're in the back of the van. Jay sneaks over, willing himself not to make noise. 'Please let my stupid plan work'. He nearly presses against the van, but not fully, fearing it will alert the man.

SLAM.

Jay turns the key in the deadbolt and locks the car. Looking through the glass, is the bleached red frown, body language reading between 'Seriously'' and "Fuck you'. 

"We need to talk. Look, there's nothing else here we're the only ones!"

Click. The passenger side door bursts open and he bolts out. 'Damn those automatic locks!'

Jay is quick to follow, as they storm down the sand.

"Stop!" Is talking even useful at this point?

Jay is too close for them to make a successful turn into the shrubbery, he continues running down the sand. It's now up to who has the most stamina. Or so Jay thought. They skid to a stop, scaring Jay into putting the breaks on, then kick sand in his eyes.

"AGH!" He spits sand out of his mouth, trying to regain his ground. They've run far enough back to the delta. Jay will stop him here. He knows how to get through the water easily now. In those baggy jeans, the man doesn't stand a chance.

Or so Jay thought. Again.

They show no hesitance and leap onto a jutting boulder in the water. They skip stone to stone like a pro.

'He has been at this longer than I have...' Jay is underestimating him. Five stones out though, the boulder gave way from under him suddenly, and he falls forward, drenched now in the water. They look back at Jay, mask soggy and sticking to their face. 'So there is a human under there.'

Jay reaches towards them, and gets a kick to the jaw, wrenching his face up, teeth clacking together, making him cringe. The wet rag gets up, splashing down the creek and running into the willows. Jay isn't done yet though. 'He's going to run out of new places to run soon.' 

The white robins and squirrels are looking from the leaves, wondering what the commotion is all about. A squabbling human getting punched in the nose by his playmate is very amusing. They whistle and chitter in laughter.

'Oww.' A mean right hook hits him straight in the nose, but he keeps stumble-running forward. Tears blur his vision, but it isn't broken like he feared. He swears the animals are laughing at him or something. 

He isn't winded yet like he used to be. He can actually keep up. And for once, he has the home field advantage. The Hooded Man is running straight for the ridge.

'The crevice.' He would corner him there. He doesn't consider the bad idea of cornering a wild animal.

But instead of bracing to turn at the ridge, the man, with no hesitation, jumps. Jay slows to a halt and almost can't believe his eyes. The man scrambles up with little struggle. 'What is he a rock climber!?' Jay stops looking up at the yellow blur, hanging at a 45 degree angle. They look straight down at Jay, before getting past the lip and over the ledge, disappearing again.

Jay huffs, looking left and right. He could go around, find somewhere else to cut him off. But does that matter? Why waste energy on this. He has to come out eventually.

'Yeah' He thinks 'Just play the waiting game. We'll see him again.'

Over the next couple days, Jay carries on with the normal activities of fishing and gathering. All the while being watched. He would turn around to lock eyes with the red frown, and they would bolt. But he didn't chase this time. They hadn't tried to get close to Jay's stuff again.

But on the night of the third day, Jay has a plan.

His idea was relatively simple. The man was a good hider but without being able to steal food or water, (at least, that's what Jay presumed he did) he was going to have to get something. His stomach had to be eating away at him. So Jay makes the set up. He starts a fire out from the cave again, smoking fish over it, making sure the smell wafts far. The real waiting game began.

---

(Heavy Heart - Kevin MacLeod)

It is well after midnight now. Maybe he was wrong? Maybe the man knew exactly how to take care of himself out here. Jay made assumptions based on a few seconds of footage, of the man  sitting on a makeshift mattress with water bottles about. Maybe it was just a ploy, Jay wouldn't put it past TTA to do something like that, even if it served some benign benefit. They're probably drinking from the creek water, risking the possible bacteria it carried. Was he really that desperate to keep his distance?

He looks through the flames, focusing past them. Some meters away, standing just out of the lights range, is the unmistakable shadow of the mysterious man. He isn't trying to hide this time. 

'He knows.' He knows what Jay is up to, but it is unavoidable now. He has only two options, go hungry or get closer. Jay wonders what they will choose. So he sits, making no move to chase the silhouette. Another standoff.

They makee the first move, gliding step-by-step over the sand noiselessly. The light reaches the bleach stains, crimson red staring him down framed by the vibrant tan-yellow hood. His shoulders squared forward, back straight.

Jay knows enough now, that this is how he intimidates. You can't get a read off him. But Jay refuses to shrink, arms resting on his knees, calm and still. He never knew if he was trying to help Jay or hinder him. Maybe trying to kill him? Or was it a push in the right direction? But that means little to him now. The hooded one behind TTA is one of the biggest links in this spiraling doom puzzle. He needs them.

They stop 5 feet from Jay, gloved hands closing at their side. Jay's eyes flicker down as they clench and unclench. Worry or Anger?

Jay doesn't see it, but he's hit in the sternum by a human cannonball, knocking him back off the log into the sand, giving him whiplash. He instinctively tries to push them off, but instead his arm was yanked. Hard. Like weighing nothing, Jay is turned over, face in the grit, arm wrenched backward and folded against his back. He tries to flail his legs at them but it is too far a reach. 

They rest on his back for a moment, and Jay stops squirming seconds later.

A strange tug at his ear lobe, and the hood is next to his face. They seem to be … peering into his ears? Pulling his ear and checking meticulously they move to the other one. 'Well this is weird'. Jay winces when a shrill whistle sounds in his right ear. 

A pair of knuckles lightly tap his skull in different spots. He stays still, intrigued by the whole thing. He is flipped back over. They begin inspecting his hands, pulling at each finger, scrupulosly looking for something.  

Satisfied, the next thing Jay feels is his cheeks are being pulled at, and his mouth is being pried open, but not wrenched. 

"Whaf - air u doin." Jay babbles as gloved fingers search over his teeth like some strange dentist, then under his tongue. Their mask is practically in his mouth, scrutinizing his incisors. Conk. A knock to the bridge of his still bruised nose made him hiss in pain. 

His eye lids are forced open, a stinge of nausea whirling in his stomach. They don't touch them though, simply holding them wide open and looking. Another hand comes up next to Jay, making a snapping gesture, and he follows it with his eye. Then the other, as if his eye contains the world's smallest poem and he can't read it.

They jump back off Jay and crouch a few feet away. He sits up, brushing sand off. They kneel with their hands folded, thinking of something.

"Umm…" Jay breaks the nervous tension. He thinks he hears a small huff, before checking their surroundings again. Then they do something he was NOT expecting.

They pluck the black hood, more of a shirt really, looking at it now, to finally show their face. They're scruffy, hair a bit overgrown, and a pair of sunken tired eyes. They don't make eye contact with Jay, and hold a nervous smile. It takes a few seconds, but it clicks. 

"Brian Thomas!?!"

He shakes his hand in a "more or less" fashion. 

He looks around again nervously, and Jay replies.

"I don't think, whatever that thing is, I don't think it's here. I haven't been sick either."

Brian nods. 

"I … I mean I don't know what to ask, if you're not up for sharing, but, you know, everyone thought you were … gone. I don't know what - Alex did."

At the familiar name, he raisez his hand to his head in a little swirl "loopy".

"Can you not … talk?" 

"... Broken … cannot be fixed." He say in a shriveling voice. He motions at his throat, tapping there, but Jay can't see anything.

"So much more than time has been taken."

"What's … broken?"

"You will understand."

Jay doesn't understand. He talks in a monotone like it was written on a teleprompter. Every word comes from … the videos.

"Can you only say certain things?" He takes a gander.

Brian nods enthusiastically, making a motion with his palm, like scribbling.

"I really don't have much writing stuff, I mean I found one pen but good luck getting it to work." He puffs.

"Guess we'll just have to play charades." Brian snickers, just barely making a sound with the air passing through his teeth. 

"Umm .. do you want water or something?" Jay's grasp of social skill is limited. Brian gives a thumbs up. "Ok uh, don't go anywhere … please." Jay stumbles back over the log to the glass bottles stockpiled near the van. He's relieved that Brian hasn't made any move to leave, but instead goes straight to snatch a fish like some wild cat, picking the small bones out from it's ribs.

"Umm I don't want to push my luck, but do you remember anything before you got -" he gesturez "-wherever here is?" 

He freezes up at the questions, either of fear or guilt. After a moment he confirms yes. 

"Oh, I don't know what happened. I was shot and woke up here, I don't know what could've happened in a week's time."

'No'  Brian gestures. 

"No what?"

He pulls a twig from the kindling, not wanting to get his hands dirty with sand, and starts writing.

'3 months'

"3 months for - wait do you mean me!?!"

He shakes bashfully.

Does that really surprise Jay though?

"I mean … god what happened? What about Tim?"

'Don't Know.'

"... Oh." Fear resurges in his gut.

Brian looks genuinely upset, and Jay doesn't want to push the subject on him too hard. He doesn't know how stable Brian actually is currently.

After cleaning through 3 fish bones. Brian stares off into the fire, still crouching in the sand where he wrote. Jay pats the other end of the log "Umm, you can sit here … if you want."

He considers for a minute, then slowly stands. His posture slouches unusually, and he plops himself down with a huff, knee-to-knee with Jay. The sudden proximity startles him but figuring he has no say in this matter, he doesn't mention it.

The taller man then let's his head fall on Jay's shoulder with a thump in an odd resignation. 

Seeing that, Jay doesn't move to get away, he turns to hide his eyes in Jay's shirt. A silent shiver wracks his body, and Jay can feel the warm liquid soaking through. "Uh…" He was never great at this kind of thing. Ignoring the thick brown blood stains, he lifts his arm, giving him time to jump, and when he stays, he loops around and starts lightly rubbing his back. "Hey it's - it's gonna be alright. We'll figure it out " With that, all of the usual tension Brian carries slips away. Jay holds him reassuringly.

Then he begins fully leaning on him, not really caring where they are. "Hey you can't fall asleep out here… come on…" It's like leading a stubborn toddler to bed. "You can, uh, sleep on my sleeping bag you know, I'll manage without." Brian gives a resolute "no" shake. Jay adds more wood to the fire, all the while a nervous grip has a death hold on his wrist. Barely an hour ago the man wouldn't have come anywhere near Jay. Now, it seems he fears Jay disappearing. 

'How long has he been alone?' Jay worries.

He doea let go however to pick and prod at the "nest" Jay had built himself, until he deems it fit. He plants himself down on the edge.

Jay's face reddens "Do you want me to sleep next to you?" He asks with hesitance, but receives an affirming shake.

Jay situates himself on his back, facing the cave ceiling, hands folding on his stomach like he's in a coffin. 

Despite being so close to another person, he feels ..."ok" with it. Brian suddenly flips to face Jay, and wraps himself around the poor man in a vice grip, clinging like a koala with the strength of a boa constrictor. Despite the discomforting squeeze, and possibly restricted breathing, Jay doesn't mind. He doesn't mind at all. Everything is fine. 

Chapter Text

(Night - Houseki no Kuni)

Human digits poke at him, spelling into his back.

"Yes, it is me." He crackles and whirs in a sound unknown.

'I missed you.' They tap and scrape.

"I know it took me too long. I'm so sorry. What has that devil done to you."

'Cracked my throat. The human feels it too. Hard for him to speak.'

" I will serve payment for that. I will do worse."

'Tried and failed. Found the problem. Tried to coax other human into acceptance, they are too resistant. He is too strong for them, aren't compatible. Years since he called, when I get there he can't even hold consciousness. The others have left us.'

"You've done the best you could. You set the game and played the tricks. I don't know why it is taking so long. Have faith though, he wouldn't choose so blindly. As for the others, I have no theory why they have failed to emerge. However, even this one was difficult, admittedly. I'm surprised at the rate he was going, he didn't descend sooner.. They don't make mankind like they used too."

'Others should've come out by now … I was alone.'

"WAS HERE JERK." The human echoes.

'You can't understand us imbecile.'

"YES CAN. ENOUGH I KNOW." 

The one who can still speak laughs softly "He is a fast learner. They're more pliant when you can speak to them in their tongue."

'Not when, 'if'.'

"Ha ha, come now I managed to learn, did I not?"

'Rubbing it in.'

Brian pushes forward, regaining his movement.

He feels the horrible tension in his throat as he looks at Jay's body crouching a few feet away from him. He gazes back at them with a toothy grin and sly eyes. Not Jay.

"You. Him."

"This is easier to understand, no?" He gestures to his mouth.

"Why."

"I believe you know why. You've been the only cooperative one. Thank you for that. This has been the plan before, only just now it has begun."

Brian didn't want Jay to have gotten mixed in all of this, He should've died and finally been at peace. He knew it was wrong the moment he found him alive and well, believing he was a rotten shell like Alex had become, but no trace amounts of sickness laid in his skin and veins. If not the operator, of course it was one of them.

"Why. Him."

"Coincidence, compatibility, and maybe some compassion. The egg has cracked. He is reborn anew. A statue to remain for all of time."

It had saved Jay. And in returning the favor, his mortal body has become it's puppet like extrusion. But Brian knows Jay never signed up for this, just like himself years ago, awakening in an endless tangle of mangrove trees to be something less than human.

"He was a bit self-endangering, too anxious, and very sick from that one you call "the operator." I wish we had met sooner, Brian, but for a seemingly flimsy human, this one managed to stave off death for quite a while."

Jay lives on, but by doing so he is lead into a trap. A trap in which Brian had corroborated with his own other self. A plan he believed was for the better. Brian has instead, led him to death .  

"Do not fret, I don't have any ill intentions.  You'll find me not as rude as the other." They wink in an uncanny not-Jay way.

"Why."

"You know that answer. The same goal you've been pursuing for years now."

"Why."

"I don't know what else you want."

"Wh-" He coughs violently, hitting his knees. It feels like a sickle tightening around his throat.

"Look - " the fire blows out in a sudden gail, echoing through the cave extrusions. They edge closer and Brian could just barely make out it's true face.

"This was going to happen eventually. With or without you. He was chosen long ago."

He wants to curse the creature out, knowing this one can at least understand him, scream that it is it's fault, none of them would've ever been like this. They could've lived a normal life and died of old age in some crappy retirement home. But the tight hemp fibers itch around his neck. He knows it isn't really there, but they have been together so long it has become almost seamless.

A shadow grows in the moonlight behind Jay.

"Trust me, you will have your Justice. This isn't pleasant for us either."

Chapter Text

(Allada - Kevin Macleod)

Jay stirs awake to find himself rolled about ten feet from his bed, and even more worrisome - Brian missing. But walking to the surface, he finds him digging through the chest compartments in the van, disguise back on. 

"Hey Bri-" He jumps back.

"Sorry didn't mean to startle you-"

He's tackled to the ground, knocking his air out, being shaken like a rag doll, before fighting back.

"Brian, stop!" He shakes his head. Starting to pace around madly. 

'That's … not how Brian walks?' Why Jay remembers that detail escapes him.

They're holding the plastic mask he had stowed away at the bottom of the clothing pile, then unceremoniously, they throw it at him. It bounces off Jay's chest with a tink. 

"Uhhhh…"

They cross their arms, then walked over to him puzzling. They pick up the mask and push it onto Jay's face. 

"Mrmph." He mutters.

They give up pouting, turning their back to Jay. 

Jay studies the mask, but feels nothing. Only the uncanny resemblance to the mask Tim had donned. 

"Do you want me to wear this or something? It's kinda … stuffy. Honestly I don't know how you manage to breathe in that thing."

They're thinking now, apparently, and rise, turning back to him. A gloved hand covers Jay's mouth, and then the other clamps around his nose. After a few seconds Jay tries to back away, but their grip is strong. The struggle begins, only wasting more and more air. Down in the sand his lungs burned.

'He's going to kill me!'  

Wait.

They hop back hands up in surrender, as Jay coughs to catch his breath. Looking up at him, Brian but not Brian - that's what Jay is going with for now - looks like they want to shrink away apologetically. Then with a shiver moving through his body, they tear off the mask, revealing a bewildered Brian, taking stock of the situation. Jay sprawls out on the ground, heaving. 

'He looks like he's about to cry.'

"It's ok … I'm fine. I think I understand, well, somewhat?"

Brian pulls him into a tight hug, practically lifting him off the ground. Jay realizes he's spelling letters into his back

'Sorry.' 

"It's all good." The last thing he needs is Brian running off again. 

----

He has convinced Brian into bathing himself, though he seems more than happy too, while Jay is going to try and get the dark stains out of the light colored jacket if it kills him. He has scrubbed at it with the different leaves he learned would "lather" like soap. He could get the dark shade to slowly disperse, but the ring of the again still remains. Mocking him.

But at this point he was going to fray the jacket. It has come along all these years with only fringes beginning to come undone at the cuffs, Jay isn't going to be the one to destroy it.

"Hey Brian, I'm - gonna lay this out to dry-" He says walking over, to notice caked blood on the back of his head that he's trying to wash from his tangled hair. 

"Do you uh … want to cut that? I have some scissors … rusted to hell though."

He nods.

Brian sits still on the bank, eyes closed, almost remorseful, as he trims away at his hair. Jay isn't a barber, but he could at least get it to look normal -ish. Strands falling like snow and land on his shoulder, itchy even after he brushes them off into the stream. 

It's still messy, but much shorter now. Tufts of hair poking up in places, but it works for Brian. Jay rubs it fluffy, receiving a wide, toothy grin.

Jay has been eyeing a large scar on his back for a few minutes now but doesn't want to mention it. But he was caught staring, much to his embarrassment. Brian smiles cornily, and gestures with his hands. It takes a minute of this acting game to understand what he means.

"Alex … impaled you?"

'No.' He shakes.

He makes a swinging motion, and mocks being knocked out.

"There was a tape Alex was hiding, it showed you being knocked out and dragged off … but that was all." 

He points at himself, Opening his eyes, ''Woke up.' 

His fingers scuttle, 'Ran away'

Circle with X, 'That thing'

Stabbing motion, 'Impaled me'.

He draws a shape in the air. A straight line with curves at the end.

"A crowbar?" Brian gave him a thumbs up.

"Umm" - Jay's eyes shifted around - "Oww...."

Brian shrugs.

"But  … Why you? It only toyed with the rest of us … why would it do … you know, that."

He retreats into the creek, turning to Jay, and tapping his head.

"I didn't catch that one …" Jay admits.

He taps his head again, then flicks his wrist, wading over to the sand to draw.

'Too smart.' He grins, making finger guns.

"Pfft, alright fair." Jay looks off towards the woods with a blush. It didn't take long for many to become smitten after meeting Brian. But it isn't a strangled feeling this time, like a typical crush. It is … calm. Jay doubts he could hide anything, and Brian seems to have no complaints. Or maybe it is more of a "Screw it we've almost died, who cares what people think" situation.

Brian dunks under the water, washing off what is left of the loose hair strands and old blood. In fact, he seems very careful about touching the back of his head, now that Jay thinks about it.

"Hey Bri." He turns. "Did you hit your head earlier or something?"

He shakes his hand in a "Comme ci, comme ça" gesture.

Tracing in the bank again 'Fell'.

"Geezus what have you been up to?" Realizing the question was kind of dumb. 

He shrugs again.

"Well … at least you didn't murder a guy."

He freezes up at that, but Jay doesn't get the hint.

"What's wrong?"

'You'll know later. I promise.'

"Oh … ok…" 'Great more secrets.' But he trusts Brian. Be it because he is Brian, or because he has no one else to trust right now, Jay does not know. He just wants to trust somebody.

'Oh well...' 

Chapter Text

(River of Io - Kevin Macleod)

Tim fidgets with the knife, creeping through the doors of Benedict Hall. Waiting anxiously for the fight. He knows there's no way Alex would stop now. Not after all the people he's killed. He wouldn't let it go to waste until he kills him.

Tim doesn't intend on losing - yet. A cold hate has seeped in his bones. Anyone who made friends with him was doomed to cryptic bullshit and death. 

He's watched the audition tape a dozen times now. Still trying to fathom why his best friend was running around in the woods for years, leading them to answers and death, stealing his medication and generally taunting him. He convinced himself it was all Alex's fault. Even if it wasn't. That made him even more angry. He wanted so badly to blame Alex for everything but that fraction of him still knows that Alex hadn't been responsible for everything. And Tim can't do anything about the real problem. He can't end that thing. But dammit - he certainly wants to try.

And then Jay, who was sick. Who should've stayed behind. But "should" won't change anything. It's funny really, Tim only now understands Jay perfectly. One man, alone, stepping into the unknown, to try and protect whatever friends he even has left. Because he has nothing better to do. And because … he cared. Whoever said to walk a mile in a man's shoes, was painfully correct. He can certainly feel the loneliness now, light boot falls on the concrete floors, fearfully quiet. He had felt ill down in the basement. If he is going to die, he doesn't want to go how Jay did. How poetic.

He holds onto that last remaining piece, Jay's knife. He could've got a gun but it makes him feel … weird. That he might turn into Kralie. And what the hell was he going to do when he found him? Kill Alex? He wants to -but facing the music, Tim wonders if he could go through with that action. Did he have a choice?

---

The human has finally run out of energy to withstand him. Alqamar awakens to the color red. 

"Well well." Dropped on the stair is that one human's knife, the one which had stabbed him months prior. " Fu~fu , how poetic." Perhaps he has done something useful this time? The camera lays fallen down the steps, battery dead.

He turns to see the infected one's body. Long since bled out. 

'Even worth trying to fix him now?' Well, he could at least hide the body. But it reeked of the devil's smell, and he knows it's a trap. He would return to take the body away, and anyone with it. 

'How sad … we could've used him …' He mourns, taking one last look, before fleeing the enclosed area.

'Where did he hide that mask!?" He digs through the trunk of the car, sifting through all of the meddlesome objects humans keel, increasingly nervous by the second. It's night now but - unfortunately - a blood soaked man late at night under a parking lot light would likely be quite a head turner. He gets in the car, trying to rub away the blood, then trying to bathe himself but humans taste awful, like a rusted block of iron.

'It's been a while … just keep the damn thing straight and we'll be fine.' He shifts to neutral and is infuriated that the car only rolls forward slowly. He pulls the stick again. Now pressing the right pedal, it just flies backwards. 'Ughhhhh … this is too complicated…' Finally he has it in the right gear and leaves, with terrible regard for any street signs. Where was the fool even staying … his abode was burned down. 'Oh well.' He makes a sharp turn off into the bank of the road, car rolling into a bunch of bushes. 

'Good enough'. He struggles with the door handle for a moment, then just busting the door open anyway. The car's noises began BEEP BEEP BEEP.

"Quiet! The forest sleeps too you know!" He beeps back at it. He has no clue what kind of creature a "car" is, but pressing buttons on the keys seems to always calm it down. He stalks off into the brush, choosing a spot he deems hidden enough. He grows tired with each passing moment, knowing his hold is slipping. Finally collapsing under the arches of some bushes, he goes to sleep.

---

'Not again.' Tim awakes in the forest. "At least I'm not in jail yet."

He's sure police would've come looking for him by now, would've easily found him, but it is all quiet.

'That thing probably took Alex just like the others.'

He finds his car, rolled off the side of the dirt road. The blood has been wiped haphazardly off with one of his shirts - apparently. He takes more of his medication which just proves less effective nowadays.

After driving for a while, past at least 3 police cars, getting no reaction, Tim decides he isn't being looked for. 

He is going to find Jessica first. Then upload the rest of the footage to the YouTube channel. From there … he isn't sure. He just knows he has to go away. Far away from here, from Rosswood, from every sight and sound that reminded him of what had been, and makes him think of what could've been. This is it. It'e over. Whether he perishes or not, he refuses to keep going with this twisted narrative. He would vanish like the others had.

Did he really want a normal life after all of this? He always thought he wanted one. But this ending was … unsatisfying. He will never be able to fully pretend like he has a normal, peaceful life after all of it. Like Jay had said "I don't know what we're going to do if we come out on top."

"Well Jay … at least you don't have to go back to sitting around apartments." Tim smiles sadly.

Was it selfish to wish for that, just so Jay would be alive? Bored, but alive. He can't think about it for long. If anything good comes from this, at least Brian is able to get some kind of peace … hopefully. Tim doesn't know how far gone his mind had been to cause him to act the way he did. To rest. To sleep. It sounds nice. But not yet. Tim doesn't want to leave Jessica behind without anyone to call for help. Tim might be the last one alive, that knows how to fend off that thing. It would be back. If not for him, then someone else. "Pfft … I am turning into you Jay … doing all of this in the hopes you can save a bunch of strangers on the internet one day. So no one has to do it ever again …" 

Maybe he should … look for their parents. Could he look them in the eye and tell him their children were dead? How would they react? His mother wasn't the best example, but he knows there are still people who had beloved parents. Or would he have to lie, tell them he is a friend of there's and is trying to look for them, all the while knowing they were gone.

He obviously can't tell them why they died. They'd probably think Tim had something to do with it in the first place. Which he did. Maybe he could write them … no … no he had to find them in person - or not at all. No In-betweens.

---

It was laughing at him in that awful graveling voice. It had succeeded in what it wanted. Another one down and captured. It pissed him off. He always gloated in his victories. Now … there were two left. None reliable. If he wasn't so sick he could get a grip and destroy them with his own power. He feared too much time had been wasted already though. The woman was the last ditch effort. Yes, get ahold of Aietidal. But this raging man refused him. Refused to let him know where she was hiding. The time they had shared together, this human knew how to block him out. Foolish, he still couldn't comprehend they were on the same side. 

He wanted to scream at him "LEAD ME TO HER" but the human couldn't understand his blaring and static frequency. 

Alnnasik, Eadala, and Helena. Two hadn't even emerged and Eadala was … he knew the truth but didn't want to believe it. Their vessels are dead and taken. Aietidal is the only other left. 

---

Tim says his goodbyes, pushing off Jessica's concerns as he enters another coughing fit. It had brought him to his knees a moment before, but he wills himself back up, getting in his car. He feels bad leaving her clueless like this but he needs to leave, quickly. The other screeching sound in his head has begun. Not the static of the operator, but the whirling and whooping sirens he hears when … whatever his masked self was … is trying to push through. He never is sure if it was schizophrenia causing this. He thinks the doctors landed on it just to give some kind of diagnoses. Something real that they could treat. 

Besides high doses of his medicine, nothing could treat this. Shit maybe he needs an exorcist. After seeing a tall faceless egg-head ruin his life, and finding out that it is in fact real and not a hallucination, an exorcist doesn't seem that crazy anymore.

Whatever was going on, he got the sense it's because of Jessica. That if he stay$ near her longer he won't remember his next actions. She is finally doing better, and he isn't going to let his stupid disorders mess with that.

But he wonderes, illy, 'What part is a disorder and what … isn't.'

Chapter Text

(Breather - Houseki no Kuni)

Both men sit in their boxers, afloat on the log.

Brian eyes the water skeptically as Jay submerges into the ocean.

"Don't worry." He reassures. He glides effortlessly. "I've done it a few times now. It's safe."

'Sure' says Brian's face. Jay learns if he hyper ventilates for a moment, he can buy about thirty more seconds under the water.

He gives Brian a thumbs up and dives under for a test run. His eyes are becoming well adjusted to the water by now. He spends more time in water than on dry land. Out here he doesn't have to feel the weight of his body, just his mind.

He lets himself drift with the sun's rays. This part is only about 8 meters down to a sandy bottom. He really hasn't worked the courage to go back to the "gravel pits". Fishing rods pile up on the shoreline like driftwood. He'd try and make use of the string, but as of now, it's plentiful.

Yes, there is definitely a stone structure, partially submerged in the sand. He pops up, taking a few quick, deep breaths before sinking under. He reaches the roof of the relic, gripping a pipe like structure, pulling himself inside the space. It's clear, except for a vibrant red cloth, growing with algae. It isn't heavy, so he grabs the bundle. He fedls content to just float in the ocean for a minute. He doesn't feel the burn these days, just a silent cue for air. He can see perfectly too. Looking out into the blue, there are tens, maybe even hundreds of structures. Ruins to something left behind … but they aren't that old, like a more concrete version of Benedict Hall. He notices Brian shifting at the surface, worryingly, and he returnes.

On the beach, he carefully cuts the sinews binding the package, and unwraps it.

They both look at it quizzically.

"Is that a … human bone? Or just a bone bone?"

Brian gave him a "really?" look, before writing in the sand. "What is a "bone bone" supposed to be?"

"A not-human bone obviously!"

If it was human, it kind of looks like a femur. The sides are intricately cut with symbols and dots.

"YEAH MORE CODE!" Jay jumps, scaring Brian.

He cleans it off, laying it to dry in the sun. Except it would not dry in time. The day moves forward as Jay tries to cipher the code, scratching out all the futile answers. He is engrossed in it and doesn't see Brian wander off. A wind picks up, and he notices black clouds in the distance.

He decides to take a break, moving the bone inside the van, fiddling with the compartments. He ejects the radio, and a CD pops out. It's old and dusty, but still in mint condition. Too bad the battery is fried. Some music would be neat.

There were the peeling bark of some dogwoods, which he could pull off in thick strips for kindling, maybe bedding.

There were the sticky buds on the magnolia trees, waiting to blossom, free of any bugs or holes.

There were white puffs, seeds floating through the air, causing him to sneeze, but just once.

There were the small puddles from the waterfall, collecting on the rocks, each drop letting a flurry of bubbles out, before they pop at the surface. 

There were the bleach white animals, which he never sees eat, never sees sleep.

There was the owl, that night, he had been wandering through the trees, not really sure why. He felt like he was being watched, and coming to a still, he looked up. On the branch above, it hopped, gliding a few feet to the next branch with absolute peace and silence. They weren't exaggerating in the books. Then it looked at him with starry eyes, pupils dilating to stare right back at him. It bobbed it's head, before flying off again. 

There was the lapping at the side of his face, as he floats in the creek. Eyes drooping slowly as he begins to sink beneath the tepid water. Before his eyes fully close, a loud splash jolts him back up. Brian is watching him and has stepped in, holding out a hand. 

The sky is getting dark with thunder clouds and sundown. He takes the helping hand, and they go back to the cave.

It starts pouring as they run. Jay is laughing, and Bryan wheezes the best he can.

Just in case, Jay moves his little camp up onto a tall cave shelf, just wide enough for the fire and them. He really doesn't want to awaken to a flood trapping them or carrying them out to sea.

The sky wracks with lightning, thunder making the ground shake, echoing through the cave with howling wind. Like a strange opera, it sings by, with the barrage of a thousand drums.

It's a bit of a squeeze but is no problem really. He tries laying flat on his back, but is curled flush against Brian's chest with a death grip. It's unceremonious but his energy for complaining had left him some weeks before. 

Fingers thrum up his spine like he is some kind of keyboard, poking gently at the divots between vertebrae. It tickles a lot, causing him to give a half-asleep, playful shove. Following a gentle pattern, Brian begins to whistle, the most noise he can make with damaged vocal cords.

He feels a hot puff, followed by a hoarse sound, barely a whistle of air. "Just wait until we're alone together.Then I will tell you something new, something cold, something sleepy, something of cease and of peace on the long bright curve of space. Banish them - refuse to speak, leave them. Go upstairs to your room. I will be waiting for you. I will surround your bed. Close the windows so that none will never again be able to enter~" He recognizes the words, but muttered aloud, it sounds like a strange, melancholy lullaby.

He awakens briefly some time during the night. Not enough to open his eyes, but able to feel. Shared heat in a nest of thick heavy quilts, it was something he had never had but wanted to cling to forever. It pulled him back into sleep faster than any medicine ever could. Pulled the energy from his bones so he was subjected to the will of rest. Slipping into unconsciousness, he barely registers his fingers twitching to entwine with those of the other.

(Classic Horror 1 - Kevin Macleod)

He dreams this time. He is laying on blue pavement, somewhere wet and dark and alone. Firelight dances next to him, but he cannot move. He is stuck staring at the ceiling. A silhouette above him, shrouded in the darkness, raises a bat. His heart beat thrums loudly and he still cannot move. The bat comes down shattering his face like a porcelain doll.

He wakes up screaming. Brian is shaking him, knuckles rubbing sharply into his sternum. The storm has returned full force, water pouring into the cave, but nowhere near high enough to threaten them. Something else is causing Brian to panic. He wills his arm up, but it is stolen back, body ignoring the adrenaline again as he plunges back into darkness. 

This time he is drowning, but not just anywhere. He knows - just somehow knows - this is where Tim's footage had come from. He is curved backwards, awkwardly, and is staring at his own reflection on the surface. But it is that mask. The skull grinning right back at him. He can see through to his own eyes, staring wide. He wanted to breathe but didn't need to. A black hood surrounds his head, and a thick jacket, jeans, and boots, weigh him down just beneath the glass.

But there is something, now, behind the reflection. He is dragged by the neck, breaking the surface. His side hurts.

"WHO ARE YOU!" Someone shouts.

"WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!?! WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT FROM ME!?" 

"Tim?" He gasps weekly, but his lungs are full of lead. He cann't focus to see a face, but Tim or not, it startles them and he is dropped backwards into the creek.

Jay finally awakes to water flooding the cave floor below, Brian missing. He makes his way through the foot deep water. Outside on the beach, it is still storming but early dawn light illuminated the scene.

The people were back. Stone faces lining the sand. Lightning illuminating their chilling stare. They don't touch Jay as he moves between them, keeping his distance and wanting to get the hell away from here and wherever Brian was. 

The sound of stone breaking draws his attention. There. In faint light he can see a normal silhouette. He calls out, and he turns to look at him, the cloth is partially over his face, covering his mouth. But his eyes turn to fix Jay with a fearful, yet steady glare. With a crowbar, he is desperately smashing at the heads of the statues, crumbling them to bits. They're over running him, and he is already hooked by fishing lines, sprouting up from the sand to constrict him.

Jay runs towards him, pushing statues over like dominoes but he crashes into a wall of them, prepares for his assault. They don't fall. Brian's weapon is caught by line, forcing him to play tug of war, before a harpoon comes flying through the air to go through his torso, anchoring him to the spot.

"BRIAN!" Jay wrestles with the statues, but they keep catching at his clothing, preventing him from making any ground. 

Brian wraps his hand around the pole through his midsection but it is much too long. Blood seeps through the jacket Jay has just cleaned for him. More and more of the tensile string tightens around every inch, cutting into his skin. He is immobilized.

"STOP!" He screams out, louder than he has ever spoken in his life.

The fishermen shatter to dust, along with the fishing line and harpoons they carry.

Jay goes to sleep.

Chapter Text

(Leaving Home - Kevin Macleod)

He's only been gone two weeks. He'd thrown the mask away and left Alabama behind. That thing hasn't shown its face … but he is still being watched. He knows it, can almost feel the burn of eyes on the back of his head outside the beat up country house he's renting. He has a mattress, a ceiling fan, kitchen and bathroom and whatever is left in his car, but that is alright.

He hates the empty fields though. No matter how far he goes it still looks like Rosswood is right around the corner.

But at least here he has an actual job. They are in a desperate need apparently, asking him to start asap. Whatever, he has health insurance with this at least.

He is going to have to get his affairs in order soon. All of his documents had gone up in flames, and all the money he had left was from the house insurance. 'At least there's that.' 

He is sitting on the porch, knees shifting on the gritty sidewalk and overgrown grass. Mentally noting what papers he needs replaced, really not wanting to go to jail on top of it all. He'd been driving with outdated stickers as well, last thing he needs is a ticket.

Picking up the pieces after everything is gone - Some people would see it as a chance to move forward, a restart on life. But that doesn't matter to him now. He just wants somewhere to eat and rest his head. He can't see himself doing more. He is alright here. Bored. But boredom means safety.

There it is again - That feeling. Sometimes if he sits and waits long enough it would go away. 500 yards out is a line of trees. He can't see anything at this distance, but he believes that's where it is coming from. It's a warm Saturday afternoon. He doesn't have work until Sunday night ….

'Screw it'. He honestly prefers this to bumming around and smoking cigarettes all day.

He begins walking across the corn fields, stalks just coming up to his shoulders this time of year, before he can talk himself out of it. He didn't bring the camera. He doesn't want to film anymore, doesn't want to give incentive to those stalking him. 

The woods, while eerily familiar, aren't so thick with brush like Rosswood had been, trees farther apart and dense. Some of last year's autumn leaves still mat the ground, smelling of sweet rain mixed with rot. It is terribly hilly though, land rising and falling in tiny hills and crevices. Some sizable boulders even left channels in their wake, having been pushed there thousands of years ago by glaciers, the trunks of fall trees acting like hand railings as he skids down the slopes. 

To the right. Tim instinctively ducks down in one of the shallow dugouts. Peering over it, he can see movement in the trees. He moves swiftly and carefully, ducking behind trunks, and doing his best not to make noise, even forgetting to breathe for a few seconds.

Yellow-tan Hoodie and blue jeans. His heart lets out a loud beat shaking him to his knees. 'It can't be, there's no way. It's just someone wearing similar clothes.' But then they turn around to look at Tim with the bleached red frown. 

He's never jumped up so fast in his life, now in pursuit. "BRIAN!" No response.

'Brian is gone' - he reminds himself - 'he's just an empty walking shell.' 

'Don't let him get away this time.' 

'He can't be alive I - killed him. Alex killed him.'

He is snared. 'what!?' He is sure he'd been watching his footing. The hooded man stops just out of his reach. Something is caught around his ankle, holding him to the spot. He kicks at it, then reaches back. It is a silver wire. He tries untying it but can't get the knot to budge. Ripping it isn't working either, tensile steel. Noticing the man, he grabs at him, but his fingers swipe at air. 

Adrenaline turns to anger, feeling like the man is wearing a grin behind the mask.

---

He steps away, appreciative he doesn't have to  keep running. He didn't think it would be as easy as setting a trap. He wants to tell The Timothy to stop writhing like an idiot and scraping himself up, but unfortunately Alna hasn't let him bring a metal pipe. That always took care of the problem a lot faster than 'talking.'

Alna doesn't come out from hiding yet, but he knows he is being watched.

'What now?' He quirks. The human stops struggling to try and notice what he is saying.

The whistling crackle replies "I honestly don't know I didn't think we'd get this far."

'When will he come back?'

"No idea. I see why he was problematic for you …"

'There's another, but only spoke words through videos. Never showed.'

"Really? … hmm."

---

Tim goes still, internally yelling at his heart to quiet down. 'Brian' keeps making signs with his hand, but it isn't sign language. More importantly, he seems to be speaking to someone else. A light chirping sound, like crickets and birds, emanates from some corner of the woods.

Then they tap at their head, and weave away through the trees.

"HEY! WE'RE NOT DONE HERE! WAIT!" He tries now tearing at the wire with his teeth, noticing it is coming from a tree branch. Maybe he could …

He tries leaning all his weight away from it, but the branch isn't snapping.

"It's not coming off, it's dangerous to wander in the woods alone. Especially ones you don't know." 

He freezes, a cornered animal. The voice is flinchingly familiar, but too lively, reverbing oddly in the open air.

"Now, we're going to sit here patiently until he arrives."

Tim panicks, thrashing his leg, until he pulls his ankle too hard. 

"Oh, apologies. I don't mean that thing. No, no enemies. We're friends in this, yes?"

'Then who.' Tim turns noticing a blotch in the corner of his eye. Up In the tree. A crudely drawn skull mask staring at him. He an lightly see eyes behind the mask, but it is too shadowed over to know them. They slowly, like some curious cat, back their way down the tree.

Scared but intrigued he thinks 'At least this one talks …'

They crouch, leaning forward on bent knees, just a safe enough distance. 

"Really though you're doing yourself wrong being out here with nothing to protect yourself, hmm?" The head gestures to the side.

"..." He has so many questions, wants so many answers, but instead decides to glare at him in silence.

"Oh you poor thing. Born into such a confusing circumstance --- you know I never did learn that name of yours."

"Yeah you can go fuck all kinds of off."

"I can see why he picked you, fu~fu." Their hands fidget. Nevermind - Tim absolutely hates his voice and wants to punch him in the jaw so he'd bite his tongue. 

"I don't know who you're talking about, and that's just plain creepy." 

They shuffle around in their coat pocket.

"Does this - how do they say - 'ring a bell?'"

'No.' He holds up a mask identical to the one he threw out.

He boils over in anger. "Leave me alone! Everyone else is dead? Are you happy yet? What else could you possibly want from me!" 

They twist up suddenly in either rage or agony - Tim can't tell "I am far from happy. How … MANY." They squeak a whistle out that admittedly makes Tim's bones cold, fingers twitching in repressed rage.  

Then they calm down like it hadn't happened. "Maybe it works better if you're asleep?"

Tim understands now, at least partially. "You're not turning me into - whatever I am with that lookalike dollar store mask, I'm not crawling around the woods with you cryptics anymore so you can give it up!" 

"Look-uh-like?" They seem confused. "Oh. No friend, this is the original. Dumpster diving is a big waste of my time you know, but I've brought it safely back to you."

"I don't want it, and I'm certainly not your friend!" 

"You will be. Maybe." They huff "Besides, you're going to want this so Mr. Cuddles doesn't try and mind-rape you."

Is he cracking a joke? "What?"

"He doesn't think you're human with the mask on, that's why we wear them. Only a slight deterrent though ...still wants to kill us…."

"Good lot of help its done. You … ToTheArk … you've been so, so helpful with your bullshit." 

"Is that sarcasm?" 

"YES YOU'RE ALL DOUCHEBAGS AND MURDERERS!"

"You are entirely correct." Tim waits for the 'but', though it was only met with silence.

"You're not going to deny it?" He asked, tone lowering a bit, tired of shouting.

"No, I am a giant ass. He really hasn't tried talking to you at all … ugh he's an even bigger ass it doesn't surprise me." 

"Who is he?"

"I think you know … but also don't know. Whatever, maybe it will work better if you're out of it."

Before Tim can think about punching them, they lean into his space, yet in a non-threatening manner. Their hands reach for his face.

"Don't touch me! Get your hands - off!" He keeps backing his face away avoiding the vinyl gloves. "I will BITE your hand off!" 

And Tim does just that, finally having given enough warnings, he chomps a few fingers, clenching his jaw down like he can bite through the glove. 

They don't yelp, or move back in pain, but beneath, blood pools inside the gloves, making its way through the thread stitches. The moment Tim tastes it, he immediately let go, spitting over and over onto the ground.

"Ouch…"

Hands clap the sides of his face, disorienting him for a moment, before the forehead of the mask is pressed to his own.

They sit like this for a moment. Tim is getting uncomfortable but his earlier resistance has vanished.  Eyes behind the mask are closed in contemplation. This close, he can feel the tickle of the mask when the person speaks.

"You're a lucky one, Timothy Wright."

He is stuck in place. A hand has slinked behind him, pulling the orange pill container out of his pockets.

"Hmm … you're medications … interesting. They've done so much to thwart that thing, but also have impeded us. You're friend Brian however, he took so many, the other built quite an immunity. Still effective against egghead though. Impressive, such a small thing." They shake it in front of his eyes, snapping him back to reality, he swipes out again, but his wrist is caught and held in an unbudging grip. He is motionless again.

"You've taken so many of these  … yes, and everytime you start getting sick you've had to take more and more. How much is it now? The whole bottle to thwart off ill effects? A mountain of pills." A thumb is placed between his brows, smoothing away the furrow. 

"But that's not why he is having such a hard time getting through to you. Something else then?"

He blinks and they are behind him, nimble fingers digging into his shoulders. Not wanting to, Tim slouches forward at the nice pressure before collapsing back on the ground. His eyes narrow like a window, seeing the tree tops and the mask peering down at him in tunnel vision.

"See, see, adult humans are just overgrown angry babies. You torture your mind instead of taking a nap! Is that not a core survival skill amongst all creatures? Aw sleep, the great equalizer."

"Screwwww yooouuu." He feels drunk, hating how his voice sounds.

The feeling of nausea and panic returns to him, but his limbs won't move, feeling ill, starting to drip with sweat. He barely registeres a hand over his chest.

"That's why. Your soul is on the verge of corruption. It's too dangerous for him to come back…"

"It's not that big of a problem though …  it can be fixed." Once the hand is gone, the feeling of illness flows away.

He isn't appreciative of how handsy this guy is. It pisses him off. The heel of a palm is pressed gently to his forehead.

The anger blasts sharply. He can't think of why but he HATES them. He hates everything. Everything. Everything.

He bends the arm with rage away from him, throwing them to the side. "Eh?" They yelp.

Jay's knife. In his boot. He has it out in a moment and pulls the line taught, finding satisfaction when it cuts.

They stare at him eyes wide. "Whoops." 

They go to block but Tim lands his mean right hook to their abdomen. They screech and Tim feels nothing. 

Alnnasik clutches his side and stumbles back into a run, the hit already exasperating the wound, which had started digressing since they'd arrived back on earth. 

Tim is too close. He tackles them to the ground, hating their guts. They roll down a short slope, and their head smacks against a boulder, too dazed to react in time. 

And Tim.

He is going to kill every last one of them like -

like Alex.

'What am I doing?' He drops the knife next to them. The unbridled hatred had come and gone just as quickly.

He drags them up to their feet by the jacket collar, buttons snapping apart at the very top.

"WHO ARE YOU!" He bites back the pain strangling his throat. The person starts coughing, hacking into the mask.

"WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!?! WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT FROM ME!?" He pleads more than yells.

Through the dark holes, he sees their eyes regain focus, trying to meet his.

 "Tim?"

'No.' He tears off the mask.

'Jay.' "Jay?" He whispers, afraid to move, afraid this isn't real but he can hear his heart hammering and he knows he is alive.

"My head hurts."

'Shit' He's injured him in the fray.

His eyes dilate back again.

"My head hurts."

"JAY!" He screams, wrapping him in a desperate hug. He squeezes the air out of the poor man, chin digging into his shoulder. He hiccups with the pent up grief trapped in his lungs.

"Where's Brian. Brian." 

Tim gulps. It had been 7 months … how much has his brain been fried in that time? Where the hell was he? 

"Brian's not here right now, bud. Look, my house isn't that far from here, can you walk? I'll help you. Jay, can you hear me?"

"Call them off. Brian needs help. Call them off. Call them off."

His best friends name spoken aloud is like a pin to the heart. 

"We'll … we'll find Brian later, we've got to go."

"No no no. Trouble. Trouble. Trouble." 

Red begins leaking from his mouth.

"Oh god…" The spot in his abdomen is rupturing slowly. He takes most of Jay's wait on his shoulder, mostly dragging the poor man.

"Can't stay, Can't stay here. Got to go back. To much time." 

"Hang on Jay." 

"Sorry Tim. I'm sorry."

"Hey hey don't worry about that right -"

A small nick to his hand catches him off guard.

Jay had slashed him with the knife. 'When did he get the knife?!?'

Lively again, he sprints as soon as Tim let go.

"Jay! Stop! Wait!"

'Not again … I refuse to do this again. He's slipping right through my fingers.' 

Jay is wobbling by the time he approaches the creek, quickly sloshing into the water. But this is enough for Tim to catch up, snagging him by the leg and jacket.

"Tim … you have to let go of me…" 

"No, Jay no we're going to a hospital right now you need help."

"Tim you can't fix this." Jay means it all literally, but Tim, still stuck in a daze, believes it to be figurative.

The wound is reopening at his side. Time's up.

"Please."

A strong kick lands steel toed boots on the joint of his wrist.

"AGH!" He lets out a high pitched scream, His left hand falls off Jay's leg, bent awkwardly, beating in a sharp pain. But his right still holds onto the bottom of the jacket in desperation. Then, he loses his footing, pebbles slipping as they both fall into the creek. Tim pops back up, tugging at the jacket, but the owner is gone. 

"JAY!" He thrashes around but no one else is floating up. 

He couldn't have been swept away! It's only a few feet deep! 

"JAY!?!" He pushes through the water, trying to feel around for anything, but is met only by sharp rocks, cutting at his remaining palm. Everything but the jacket he holds is gone. The mask, the knife, and Jay.

His own white mask floated by, bobbing down the river, and this time he reaches out for it .

He keeps searching the river bed, praying Jay hasn't drowned in the shallow waters.

He crawls to shore, falling to his hands and knees as water drips out and off of his clothes.

'We had him! We actually had him and we lost him again!' He can't take this.

"Please *hic* please come back." He cries, whispering unfeasible hopes like he is a child again, only fueling his self-hatred.

He walked down stream for a few hours, scanning the surface, before it became too dark to see the bottom anymore. He is exhausted and hopeless so he leaves the woods, looking back one more time, then crossing across the field, the sun gone when he gets inside with the soaked jacket. Even through closed walls, the crickets outside are almost deafening.

He searches thoroughly through the pockets of the jacket. Nothing but a waterlogged flashlight and a … deer antler. 'What was he going to do with this? Stab me?'

Tim sits in his wet clothes on the kitchen floor, until he shivers from the cold. He makes the effort to get up and take a shower.

It is the only place he would let himself cry freely.

That night, his dreams give him some mercy. All of them, together, before this all started.

Chapter Text

(Prelude - Angel's Egg)

Jay wakes up on the beach. He notices the strange clothing because of how it sticks to his skin like thick wet eels.

Something is over his face, wet sand spilling in little windows.

"Blegh! Yuck!" He spits salty grit from his mouth, sitting up to remove what is over his head. His heart jumps a bit, realizing it is the grinning, skull-like mask, which he'd stowed back in the van again. 'Apparently not.'  

Coming around water-logged on the shore isn't really surprising anymore. He swears he had some really odd dream, but it had faded, all except the negative clutching feeling taking hold in his chest.

Maybe then, or was it before, he notices the sand is dark sullen gray, and tastes like thick iron. No this isn't the beach, the stuff in his mouth is not sand, but steel dust. 

There is an abandoned city dotting a grey skyline, blue dirt and blue brick. All dark and dreary. The waves lap at his heels.

'No, I don't want to be here. Not here. Not now.'

He doesn't understand the feeling, but it is a bad one at that, and he backs up into the ocean.

The only sign of life is white gulls, circling above him in an arc. 

Maybe he is going crazy - or crazier, but he has an inkling feeling at the back of his neck.

"Can you … take me somewhere else?" He spdaks to the wind. The birds. The sky. The ground. The water. The waves come down harder, each draw out to sea tugging at his legs. He's forced to step back with it. Step by step and the water climbs and climbs. A patient, calming cold that reaches every nook and cranny. Like when he would throw cold water on his face, to clear his head.

Yes. Clear his head. 

He takes a breath in his nose, before he goes under. 'Yes … I'm definitely insane.' He holds his eyes shut and floats loosely in the current. Soon nothing pulls at him and he's just suspended in the water. In the dark. The burn for air doesn't come. It really does feel like there is a hole in his head, water flowing from one side, to the other. 'sleepy…'

His toe hits sand, and he kicks forward, pulling himself on the sand bar. He weighs a million pounds but still lugs himself forward. 

---

Brian sits on the sand, surrounded by the annoying stone statues. They don't try anything on him anymore, but still will not let him leave the circle they had him in.

He is really getting tired of this … oh who is he kidding he was tired of it when Alex smacked him upside the head with a pipe. Everything after that - a near meaningless existence. His only use was being a walking shell. And yet, he stayed awake every moment of it. He had a gist of what his other "half" was trying to accomplish, and went along for the ride. But they only talked in screeching buzzes and fragmented letters, because dumbass was illiterate and just hoped someone would be able to read his words on earth. And then all their other time was spent in that - mangrove swamp. He hated it there. Stop thinking about it, you'll upset yourself.

His other half had come back from whatever mission he was on. He can remember, these days, what usually happens. They, and the one behind Jay's head, went to earth. He was happy to see Tim alive, although he looked worse than ever before. They weren't in Alabama when they arrived. He'd either run from Alex or … ended it. 'At Least he thought he ended it.' No. It wasn't over yet. Maybe Alex had once vainly hoped if they all died it would stop but it never stops. The only thing that changed was the playing field, and the team of the players.

They'd set some trap for Tim, but his time was running out, the old wounds returning at the back of his head, and through his chest, an irritation he couldn't scratch, and he headed back to the safety net that was this small little pocket dimension. 

'Jay's.' It was much better than the endless swamp that had threatened to fall out from his fingers at any moment, after they'd gotten to, to close, and that thing had broken its neck. Not his own but he could still feel the strain of mangled vocal cords. It wasn't like the head wound, the impalement, the cuttings and stabs. This was permanent. A crack along his neck, light seeping out.

At least the sand here is solid. He can sleep without the fear of falling into an endless void, both of them having to claw their way out with no map.

'Jay' had come back late though. Brian noticed the wound in his side had oozed a bit before he returned to safety. That apparently triggered … whatever "this" was. He had woken to Jay back by his side, but with the water filling the cave, so did statues, popping up from the waves. He tried to wake Jay but something was wrong. Yes, it was the wound. He was still healing up again. 'Dammit' That irresponsible fool would get Jay killed … again.

So, as the memories floods back, he swung at them with an axe. But the statues refused to crumble. They surrounded him like he was their prey, ensnaring and barbing him. Before finally, finally, he looked to see Jay semi-aware, yelling for the things to stop, before collapsing into the ocean. And they did. That's when Brian made the correlation. They listen to him, apparently. They had stopped their assault, releasing him the wire and barb.

He is pissed, for the next hour or so, he can only lay there as the wound seals itself back up. The statues have built a circular wall around him and won't let him pass, leaving him sitting there to contemplate life choices yet again.

He feels that familiar itch, the boiling anger that would make him dizzy standing up. He really wants to just smash them into dust. Break. Break them. It hurts his head and makes him feel exhausted and feverish. 

He takes a deep breath.

"Hey!" Get away from him!"

The statues don't budge, but Brian peers between their legs, seeing Jay running towards them. His shirt is still stained, but from the looks of it, he has healed over again. 

Jay stops, before charging at one rock, wrapping his limbs around it, trying to climb over its back. He falls off, and tries to slip under, but that is too tight. Brian watches with a humorous glint. 

Another attempt to climb the thing and it's head breaks off, falling to the sand. Plunk.

"Eh… don't worry Brian I'll figure something out."

He tries to push them apart, and they step out of his way. Jay falls with an oof.

"Brian! Are you alright?!" Jay comes to grab both his shoulders, looking at him. He nods smiling. 

Once he makes contact, the one broken statue crumbles into dust. The others just stare.

Brian points at Jay, then the statues, but he doesn't get the message.

"Go - go away!" He yells feebly, but to his surprise, they do, backing up one by one down the beach, into the water.

"I think they're just … made of shale or something… but hey, they listened." 

Brian gives him a look interpreted as 'Where were you?'

"I don't - I don't know I was asleep and then I was dreaming a lot of weird things and then I woke up into the beach and saw you and then I think I passed out again or something then I woke up on this weird place that gave me the heebie-jeebies and it was like metallic and stuff-"

Brian grabs his arms roughly, staring him dead in the face. 

"What's wrong?" He waves at Jay to keep talking.

"The weird place?" Brian nods.

"Uh … idk, It was like silver … gray beach, and it was all cloudy and stormy and there were these big abandoned buildings and white seagulls but I don't know it was just, really weird I guess."

He stares at him like he's seen a ghost - or that thing.

"Are you-"

Suddenly, hands are on either side of his face, pulling him so that he almost topples forward.

'Ah!' His mouth was mashed against Brian's and his mind shuts down.

An unknown amount of time later, Brian pulls back, standing up and whirling Jay around in a dizzying circle, before hugging him tightly. 'I'm going to fall over.' 

He shakes him around like a ragdoll. Then walks back and forth pacing in the sand. Jay stands there, one finger in air, mouth poised like he has a question, but all he has is a garbled mess.

But now of all times, something pokes him back to attention. 'Something important' it hints. But who is it?

He scrambles around in the still soaked Jean pockets, and - having ripped a hole in the bottom of his pocket - is his knife. Bent a bit, and worn down some, but it is definitely his. 

'Didn't Tim take this?" He could've sworn he'd never had the knife in the pockets of these jeans, or any of the other spare clothing.

In the other pocket, an all too familiar shape. He wraps his fingers around a plastic cylinder, pulling it out. The inside is still closed but has filled with water, partially dissolving the pills inside. And on the soggy, yet legible label.

"WRIGHT, TIM."

His heart drops.

Brian is writing, no rather drawing something odd in the sand, deep in thought.

"Brian …"

No answer.

"Brian." He finally hears and looks up at Jay, fixed with a pale and stricken look.

"What's happening to me."

Now Brian is the one with a stricken look.

"Be honest."

Chapter Text

Tim had been thinking all that night. Pondering his next move. He still has one more day before work. He keeps moving the coat fabric in circles between his fingers. The jacket was way too well made for something Jay would wear normally.

'Cus that isn't Jay. Jay's … gone.' No. No. Jay had spoken to him, that was him, at least for a minute there. 

And if it were anything like Tim's blackouts … 

He would be back. 

He is going to catch one of them this time. This time for sure.

He'd wrapped up his wrist. Another broken bone to add to the mix. He wonders how much this one will hurt healing up. Maybe he could go to the doctor … - but did he really want too? 

He has a nervous stomach and considers settling it with some plain toast or something.

He begins coughing. Normal so far. Choking down cigarettes wasn't doing him any better.

But it gets worse, the last time had been in the parking lot, saying goodbye to Jessica.

He goes for his pocket, then remembering that "Jay" had taken them. He double-checks the coat but still nothing. Must've dropped them in the forest somewhere. Oh well, he has spares for now. He goes to the sink to get some water.

Ok now his coughing is absurdly bad. He skips the water, heading for his room.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

It feels like a second atmosphere is pressing down on him, now, the whole world around him glitching just like the video cameras. It's dark and his eyes roll back. He struggles to stay on his hands and knees. 

'Gotta … where … what...' Every thought he makes fizzles out, and he can vaguely taste salt and metal dripping from his nose. 

The static is so loud, louder than ever before in his life, and as he grips the carpeting for dear life, it sounds like words.

"I'VE FOUND YOU." 

This shift in his mind seems to blend his masked side into the present, and he isn't quite sure who he isn't anymore.

'Grab the jacket, the mask, the antler and go.'

He knows who it is. Maybe. Kind of. There could only be one. And this time he listens, dragging the items off the side of the counter he is hiding behind. 

The roof is coming off, and a giant white face stares down at him. Large spindly hands threatening to crush him. 

He pushes and pushes. 'It's not real, it's what it wants you to see.'

'A cheap trick - he's a cheap trick.'

He drags himself to the backup pills, sitting in a nook in his closet wall. 

'We need to leave now.'

"NO MORE."

'Now!' Not soon enough.

He didn't think a force could ever be so strong to take him off his feet. He is slammed hard into the opposite wall. All of it hits him. He feels for a moment that he has been flattened. He drops to the floor, the roof shivering, and a cinder block comes down to cut him on his forehead. 

Blood streams down, blinding him. 

"Bad. Bad. Bad."

It was in front of him.

'Mask!'

And this time he can see the darkness it emits.

'Run!'

Surging forward like ropes.

"Relinquish fool!"

He blacks out.

---

Alqamar wastes no time forcing his mind back. Dangerous - but the current danger is worse. He slips the mask on, but it is already too late. Harut knew this is was a human body long, long ago. 

They meet and lock arm's. Alqamar could best him in strength, but mentally he is nothing. He has to leave. They scream horrendous and angry things that he ignores. Threats he ignores. Human blood he ignores. The dark swaths are encroaching on his head now. He intends to kill the both of them.

He has to break the deadlock. Now or never. He kicks out, only meeting air, but it pushes them away at least. He has Alna's antler in his hand. He would thank him later if he makes it out alive. It turns black and sharp with the corruption the human had absorbed, and he plunges it into their chest. This time he can't turn to thin air, and is pinned by the thing. He runs for the door. But before he can make it - 'Damnit'  It slashes a deep cut in his scalp and his control is over.

---

He swears the ceiling is caving in on him. But he forces himself to his feet, blinking through the red. Gravity pulls at him but he pulls back, each step heavier than the other. Tim makes it out the threshold of the door and the weight lightenes considerably. He flees into the woods, but the cut on his forehead, and apparently scalp, kept dripping blood in a trail. It didn't matter. It is only fear and survival. He was stupid to think he could live a normal life. It would always come back. It would always try to kill him. It would pursue him till he was dead, but he refused. Remain so that all of their sacrifices were not in vain, even if it was only he who made it out. Remain to help others. And a third reason, the fear of what lay on the other side.

He did and didn't know where he was running. Into the woods. And as he broke the treeline he had the sickening realization that this, this was Rosswood. Hundreds of miles away and here he was running through the much denser woods than his home. He didn't look back. He didn't want to know.

He considered calling for Jay, Brian, anyone at this point. 

Minutes blended into hours under his feet, he refused to stop. He was barely stumbling forward now, dehydrated and running through his adrenaline. He was still stuck here. In Rosswood. The cuts and scrapes had crusted over with scabs but he swore they would have to become infected.

Even if he was all the way back in Alabama, he just wanted out of the woods.

God he hated it here so much. Every tree a reminder, every shadow he hallucinated into a dead person, hiding from him, staring out from behind trees. He even saw the hooded man at one point, but he knew it was fake this time.

"Hey dude, are are you - Holy ssshit you're bleedingding." 

But he kept walking, convinced it was just another hallucination trying to stall him, before he collapsed against a tree.

---

Before Brian could begin to explain, Jay shivered, eyes noticeably dilating.

"Are you rested enough? We need to return again. Harut is getting restless."

Brian nodded, still not quite used to the English speaking creature. He carried himself a lot different than Jay too, shoulders back and hands clasped, one coming up to brush off the mask and put it back on. 

"Besides, I would like my coat back now, it's difficult to find one like that."

He pulled the mask out of his pocket, and took a breath, fading into the background.

---

Eventually, Tim blinked exhaustion. It was nearing night.

'I should be at work right now …'

"Yo!" He looked up at the bleary gray eyes of some thin teenager, wearing a bandana over their mouth.

'What am I, getting robbed?'

"You really took a real fall there!" His nose did an odd scrunch but Tim ignored it.

"Yeah … just jogging, misstepped."

"Uh yeah you're lying, looked more like you we're running for your life." He cracked his neck sickeningly.

"Look, kid, that doesn't really matter, you really shouldn't be here. Just uh … back to your friends or something."

He snickered. "Hey, I turned 18 in April, give me a break! All my friends are dead. If you call them friends."

Tim looked at him for a moment before mumbling "Wow what a coincidence…" 

"And if you know a way out of this forest I'd love to hear it, I've been here … yeah I don't know. Just goes in big ass circles."

"You can say that again."

"Just goes in big ass circles!"

Tim sighed. 

"So … " they whistled. Tim noticed two wood axes they carried on a belt. Something screamed danger, but Tim couldn't muster the strength to care.

"I've got to keep going."

"L.O.L. Where?" 

"Anywhere but here! And you should go too, it's not safe." 

"A lot safer in here honestly, the cops don't come looking this far!"

"What are you doing? Drugs? Kid there's a thousand better places than here."

The guy's eyes squinted, and he could guess he was smiling wickedly.

"That's not why I'm here."

"I really don't care - why?"

"You will. "

Tim left this conversation, walking away. 

"H-HEY! I'm not done talking you ass!"

"What!?" Tim turned around.

"I'm a serial killer. And you're next."

The man expected Tim to give him a shocked, fearful, or skeptical face, but he just looked bored.

Tim didn't really know if he was telling the truth or not.

"Honestly, not the weirdest thing I've seen. I've had enough with murderers this year. Give it your best shot if you want but I'm going home."

"That's fucking boring…". He looked genuinely upset. "Oh well, can't all be fun I guess."

Tim fixed him with a no bull-shit look. "If you do try, I will kill you first." He kept walking. He didn't care if the kid left and told the authorities. It might save his ass, getting him out of the woods at least. Getting him away from himself.  

"You say that like you've done it before."

He went Rigid. Remembering Alex's words, gargling through the knife he'd shoved in his throat. The wound he only just barely mustered the courage for with a final shout. 

"Ho-lee shhhitithit! You have, haven't - you - you! Oh that's juicy!"

'Blood for blood' he'd said in justification. All that was left behind was Tim. He remembered Jay with those fateful words -

"It's just gonna be really weird if it comes to that, we come out on top though, cus I don't remember what all I did before all of this happened."

"Wasn't that long ago…"

"Well, I do know that I was living by myself in a crappy apartment doing nothing … so at least now, I guess I'm …. doing … something I don't know."

"Just wish it wasn't this." The only thing he could think of.

"Yeah…"

He felt the pain of tears threatening to burst again.

'Is that why you died Jay … because you thought … there was nothing left for you? Did you know you were going to die….

'Oh god. Did you want to die?' That thought choked his throat painfully. 

Really that whole time, the state of mind Tim was in, he always thought either him, or the both of them would go out. He was so blind. He never thought about being the last one standing. 

'Dammit Jay … why'd you have to go."

It was an awkward minute before the younger guy spoke.

"Lemme guess, that weirdo with the glasses and the gun? I haven't seen him in a while. Terrible aim, that guy."

"I'm not a murderer, I didn't have a choice."

"Ooo, so that kind of murder! What's the story?"

"You don't want to know…"

"Dude I've done a lot of fucked up shit, hard to top that."

He didn't realize he was crying until a drop hit his boot. 'How pathetic.'

"Oh … uh … gosh this is embarrassing, look I don't usually say these things but uh … s-sorry for stirring up history? See, I just kill strangers who wander in for the operator, but you don't seem like a stranger to this place…"

"For the WHAT!?"

"The Operator? Tall faceless dude always crawling around these woods."

Tim twisted around and grabbed him on the shoulders, they visibly shrunk while Tim looked them dead in the eye.

"Stay away from that thing! It's using you for food!"

"B-but it p-protects me from danger…"

"It IS the danger! It - It sets you up! I would know! I've had to deal with it my entire life! It takes everyone around you and then some! You're just feeding it! That's what Alex was doing!" He let go of the guy rubbing his hair over the peculiar wound in his hair."

"Who's ...- is that the guy you killed?"

"Tch-" He didn't want to say it. "He's gone too…"

"I am the world's fattest liar but I will be honest with you if it does any good. Get out, and get away. It just followed me all the way to fucking Illinois just to kill me! And now I'm back in Alabama! That's not normal!"

"Dude, what, we're in Colorado."

"No, this is Rosswood Park, in ALABAMA."

"Look there's no way I walked from Colorado to Alabama." 

He stared off into the woods.

"It's everywhere…"

"What?" 

"This forest isn't - right."

He remembered Jay's voicemail, the one that never sent. About how the layout of the park had changed. Another way to control Tim, to drive the two apart. It did the same to Jay and Alex, and then him and Jay.

"DAMN IT TO HELL!" He punched a tree. His knuckles broke on the bark, blood leaking out. When had he become so out of control… he knew when. He didn't know why.  

"Look dude either … try to fight me or … insult me or something so I can kill you already."

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" 

"Guess that works enough. No hard feelings man, think you'll feel better dead anyways."

He heard the snap of a belt loop.

He didn't cough this time, but felt the itch in the back of his mind

'Fine. Do it.'

He slipped away.

Chapter Text

It seemed he only let him out when he needed to fight …

Alqamar whipped around with the mask on and caught the weapon heading for him, by the handle. This surprised the human a tad, but their eyes gleamed to life. 

He wrenched their arm up. But their strength defied their shape. Oh well, so did his. 

It's exciting for the other man though, finally someone who could fight back … that wasn't some drunk college kid. They might be a little bit too strong though, forcing his grip back. He had a slight height advantage, but it was non-existent here. A boot met his shin, but he expected as much. Poor guy. He brought the other axe down, tearing through their sleeve, meeting flesh. The guy flinched back, but nothing more than that. 

'I don't have time to play like this.' Alqa thought, his head was killing him. The next few swings were fast, wide arcs, but the weight thrown into the swings left his guard way to open. Timing it right he grabbed hold of both and flung them into a nearby trunk.

The human looked between him and the hatchets, bewildered.

His head was throbbing though, and he turned to lean against a tree, rubbing at his head. 

"Holy shit dude that was cool!" 

He continued his trek through Rosswood.

"Hey! Where ya' going? Wait up!"

A magma hot fever seemed to be running through his skull, making his breath feel stuffier behind the mask. He was probably dehydrated. 'Ugh .' He wanted both to shed layers and yet hide in them from the chills he was getting. He at least had the second jacket.

The human was waving in front of him.

"You don't seem to be doing too hot, sure you don't want me to just finish you off here?" 

He pointed further into the woods, but it only confused the man more. No time for that though. The wound already exacerbated his partially fried mind.

He was shadowed by the youngling for as long as he walked. Every now and then they'd pop up with questions upon questions, but Alqamar knew better than to answer. He never liked speaking anyways.

They soon came across the tunnel. He knew the thing could come here, but at least, for now, it was a landmark for his partner to come and find him. Except the babbling man might scare him off. 

He turned around, holding a finger to the mask. But they still persisted. He sat uncomfortably in the middle of the tunnel.

"What is this your hideout?" He tapped one of the weapons against the metal paneling. 

"I don't know, kinda … damp."

Shit. The buzzing was back. It was only a minor irritant, but injured, he didn't want another squabble.

"Oh hey the operator's back. Kinda wish he could you know … turn it down sometimes." He tackled the human to the other side of the tunnel, trying best to silence them.

"LET G-GO OF ME! H-EY WHY ARE WE HIDING!?!" 

But a strange feeling hit his brain. He felt like … a nap. He stayed quiet, no longer resisting.

'What the hell?" The human thought.

He tried to slim the both of them as close to the wall as possible. The sky shifted and it was suddenly night again. 

Tap. Tap. Tap . 

They were walking on the road above them 5 feet of dirt and concrete between them and nothing else.

In a hazed state, the human still registered what was happening, staying quiet for the meantime. They looked over at the bleach white mask barely visible in the low light. 

It started to sound like the tunnel was ripping apart. The night faded away at either side and became giant films of static. The boy had never seen this happen before. It was obvious the operator really wanted something from this guy. But … maybe he'd had a point earlier. He wasn't fond of being used, so decided he would wait and see how things played out.

They seemed to be staring to the opposite entrance, and then he was being pulled towards it, before he could protest, he was pushed through a blinding light, and when he turned around, the tunnel, and the guy in the mask, were gone. 

He looked ahead to more forest, but a lot different than anything he'd seen before. It was only hard caked dirt and tall, black, dead trees, splitting like claws into the air. Some more fog rolled through, obscuring the next 10 feet in front of him.

It was quiet, except for the caws of a crow, and a hooting owl. 

'Well this is different '. The nervousness caused a series of twitches in his face, before he continued walking. Nowhere else to go but further.

---

He'd be caught dead saying it, but he always loved how Alna traveled. A graceful fission rather than a simple glitch into reality. Though, it did have downsides. It is as quite noticeable from a distance, thick dark fog unfurling it's passengers.

The last of the black curtains bloomed out in a lotus, revealing the dark forest  The cloth mask concealed his gleeful smile. Back on earth, and this time, he wouldn't be alone. They stepped onto crinkly leaves.

Eadala would barely make an admission of it, but he has been so terrified of the loneliness. Trying to cling to earth as long as possible, to make Alqamar emerge, but he always reverted back to the human's consciousness. The human who didn't understand it's own predicament. At least his own was smart enough to understand enough. As the wound reopened he would emerge back in his realm, wound fizzing back together again, but he could never stay for long, never rest. The branches would give out into a black void threatening to consume him. He pulled whatever sleep he could on earth as the human, and then maybe a power nap in the mangroves, never more than that. But he was safe now! Ha ha! Able to sleep comfortably now that Alnnasik has returned. Without threat that the ocean will give out under him.

The human definitely enjoyed it as well. Both the company and the safety. Physicality trying to make up for all the lost years, push all the pain back into the past and fill a hollow soul with warmth and love. Things went better when both he and the human were in agreement. 

But they were on earth now, in the middle of that devil's trapping grounds. The thick of it.

Right on schedule apparently, as his partner was immediately tackled by his other.

---

He'll admit, the "football" tackle did catch him off guard.

Two white masks facing off. One appeared to bare its teeth, and the other zipped shut.

"Alqa-" He received no response, only being strangled viciously by his beloved. He noticed the gash, leaking out white light, and it clicked.

'He's been damaged! That's why he can't hold himself for long … and why he's being an utter ass.' 

Alqamar was far stronger than many, and Alna was more privy to trap making, this close quartered fight wouldn't go well for him

Ead rammed into him with his shoulder, enough to free the pair.

Alna brushed himself off, "At least he remembered the jacket…"

Alqamar could only writhe around angrily on the cement, struggling to find purchase.

"A-" He only clicked once before they were discovered by the enemy. They were rapidly transported to another scenery, and he swore a punch connected to his jaw, making him lose control.

Chapter Text

Jay awoke heart beating fast, once again behind a stuffy mask, which he preceded to pull off. 

"Brian!?!" The hooded man was next to him and his mouth was sharply thwacked by a glove, and they pushed the mask back on. ' Fine I'll listen.' It was rare for him to be this close when Brian was like … this … he wasn't sure what it should be called. They were always somewhat bratty and sneaky, an opposite of Bryan. And Jay threw out the theory of it being some kind of act long ago.

'Oh god where are we.' He was nauseous from a reeling head and noticed they were in the old shack.

'Brian' pulled him back, and began to fiercely sign at him and tap like Morse code. But he noticed, the less he focused on it, the more it blurred, he could - kind of … understand it. 

'Trying to seperate us.'

He whispered. "Who-" but he knew, there was only one creature that would make the hooded man run.

Jay hacked horribly, as the floor came out from under them, and he blacked out.

--- 

Tim woke up, under a desk in the old hospital. 'Why here.'

And in front him was Brian, how he used to know him. Before Alex took him.

"Hrmph!" A hand covered his throat.

"Quiet." He scratched out from his throat.

"Brian?" He hadn't ever spoken before.

"Silence. Hiding." He looked desperate, dragging Tim under the desk.

Brian bolted out from under the desk, jumping over it and the dividing wall, and Tim knows why, they both begin coughing and Brian's dry, voiceless heaving disappears down the hall. Tim's throat settles and he realizes -

'Brian's leading that thing away.'

It switches again.

---

This time Tim is standing at the entrance of Rosswood. Should … should he leave? It would get him out of hell, but what was he going to do 600 miles from his car. And if the park was like a seperate space, it might just be easier for him to face the danger and walk back through. It was still night. If it led him back to where his house was, he could make it to his shift a bit late and excuse himself.

But he knows that's not why he's walking down the gravel path again. He sees Brian's terrified face, still leading that thing away from him. He has to go back.

He walks until something on the trail board catches his eyes.

MISSING

Six signs behind the glass, picture by picture, each newer than the last.

Alex Kralie. Amy Walters. Sarah Reid. Seth Wilson. Brian Thomas. Jay Merrick. 

No.

He couldn't take the images, and took them down, one by one, painfully. Each paper shred tore him up inside.

But under them -

Another sign, much older than Alex's, browned over:

E. HOFFMAN LAST SEEN 2/17/87 No picture

'1987!?!' No it couldn't be related, there was no way.

"L. SCHRIEBER, M. SCHRIEBER, A. SCHRIEBER LAST SEEN 10/24/83"

A smiling trio of siblings.

"R. IVANOV 12/03/79"

No picture

'It has to be a coincidence right? Right?'

"C. PALLADINO 01/29/77"

"D. KOZUTA '75"

"M. DARBY '72"

"K. HAYES '69"

He shred and shred. 

"D. FOX"

"E. SMITH"

"H. MILLER"

"L. HALES"

"R. QUINONES"

"D. DAIGLER"

"J. FORREST"

"S. NETTLES"

"M. JOHN"

And they continued on, and on, and on.

"M. WRIGHT"

That caught his attention. His mother's photo … but she never went messing … if she did she wasn't always …

'No. No no no.' He sprinted, crackling gravel in his wake, this time, towards the forest. 

The mask like the skull blurs into view. They walked, this time, towards him. A bit of moonlight filtered through creating a starting image. They were holding a gloved hand out for him. Urging him to take it. He approached. One step. Two steps. He swung over a fallen tree. Three steps. Four.

He took their hand. Warm and reassuring is the devil.

"Don't worry I've -"

The thing blasted itself into existence behind him. His ears were going to bleed by now. They pulled him into a run. It felt like the time he stood up to the thing, a thousand pounds on his shoulders. But the masked fellow kept running. Never letting go. Together they broke the forest line and now ran through a field of budding cotton plants. They snagged at their jeans but broke away with ease. The one in front stopped pulling out something from their coat. Wait - the coat that Tim had grabbed during the day. 'When did he …'

They pressed the plastic mask to Tim's hands. He also had no idea when that went missing either.

And as it slid into place the thing appeared behind the skull mask. Tim saw it move for once, an arm swiping out, sending the other flying a few meters away, landing with the air knocked out of their diaphragm.

"JAY!" He called, but no one answered.

Now, he was staring the thing down alone. It moved towards him and he can hear the audio of entry 72 blaring at Tim to keep standing. Can hear Jay coughing and sputtering again, suffering on the ground in the middle of the night. 

'Was Jay always doomed to die on the floor - why - why such a fate?'

But not this time.  'When did he?' Suddenly then, the man was climbing up onto his shoulders. It was heavy, to carry another person, but still, worrying light weight. Not as oppressing as the air around him. 

They balanced on Tim's shoulders. Not like he could move anyway.

And whatever it was, it worked. Seeing the masked face of Jay now, it fell back. It looked as if it were shrinking in size.

Why … was it afraid of him, and not him or Brian. It was something to do with the mask. It had to be. And the height. 

He couldn't finish the thought. In anger, the monster switched them up again.

---

Ead moved quickly when he awoke, narrowly dodging a rock aimed at his head. 

'He's the issue.' 

He knew fighting with Alqamar was a death waiting to happen. 

He leapt at his back, trying to communicate with the feral thing, but was slammed into a wall, and fell to the floor. Suddenly he was pinned by the head pressed to the chipped concrete walls. The fickle wound to the others head, that's what was causing the confusion.

He wanted to yowl 'I'm not the enemy you idiot.' He's clever though. Alqamar might be strong but he wasn't sneaky like him. He kicked the bad leg, and with just enough give slipped out backwards. With an iron pole conveniently located on the floor, he turned around just in time to smack him in the head. 

They didn't fall immediately instead gripped their head to stop the ringing. Ead stood in the doorway, poser with the pole, ready, just in case. Then Alqamar looked at him, actually looked at him, and whatever button he'd hit, it was the right one. 

He approached the hooded one with a soft chittering akin to a squirrel. They embraced for a moment. In a human body, it looked rather strange, but they sniffed at each other confirming they knew one another. But time for reunions was short. They had to find Alna and book it. Plus, they knew shortly, they would likely divide again.

He tapped at his shoulders, with small odd little scrapes.

'It's the body of the human Jay Merrick. He is there. He isn't infected anymore.'

He nodded affirmation, before the static came blaring in.

---

Jay rubbed his eyes through the plastic, coughing out dust. The stars were out. Standing up, he realized he was on the roof of the school near the hospital, and far over the tree line, he could make out the town. Streetlamps too dark, cars all dead and silent.

Most of them. An old, metal clunker was in the air. 'Oh wait ' it was heading straight for him. He ran to the side, hearing the woosh as the roof shook with the impact.

The old building threatened to collapse in for a moment, but he scampered to the side again, as another car came hurtling over the edge.

'I should be getting paid for this…'

'Get off the roof get off the roof get off the roof'

He took the roof access down. It might be more dangerous inside the unstable building, but he had to get down somehow. 

He flew down the stair-wells 3 steps at time like the world's most rushed fire drill. Without the drill part. The adrenaline pushed him past the nagging itch on his gut. He knew why, but not exactly - a wall busted with concrete near him - how it was happening.

He was on the ground floor, wasn't someone else supposed to be with him?

He came into a much more opened area, ducking behind a tiled pillar. 'There!'

In another spot, was Brian. Or the hooded man. He didn't know. But something was creeping around, black claws slinking over tile. Brian was looking the other way.

"MOVE!" Jay screamed out in warning, and both Brian and the other thing looked at him. white depthless eyes along with the red circles stared at him, but Brian listened, dodging whatever it was.

The ceiling shook again and with a silent shout the wind was knocked out of him, being pulled into a fierce grip, the world spinning around him. He was on his back shortly and stared up at the masked Tim, eyes still black and wild beneath the mask. His palms were planted next to his head and they hovered over him. He felt trapped, but it changed upon realizing the man - or thing - was trying to protect him. 

He felt a tickling feeling of "my hero" flow over him like some cheesy ass romance movie.

"Tim?" They shook their head 'no.'

Without asking, they flipped Jay over their shoulder with an annoyed huff. Not the time for protest really. 'Is this what happened to Jessica?'

They flew down the stone halls, and Jay realized a line in the ceiling above was following.

A piece from the floor above fell at an angle. And Jay fell roughly to the ground. But it didn't crush the two … yet. The masked man strained under the weight on his shoulders. Jay could feel his own muscles screaming in the pain of it.

"Hold on!" He panicked next to the man, trying to push the concrete slab over and off. Maybe it was his imagination, but it began to move up, just enough to tilt it over. "It's - not over yet." He said through heaves of air. "Tim" stared at him incredulously. Then the concrete shook under their feet, cracks parting below them. They tried stepping back but it went down, into the basement level, taking them with it. They never hit the bottom.

---

Tim was sitting in his house, flicking the lighter open and closed. Contemplating whatever life muster bullshit came to mind. 

A distinct feeling touched the pit of his stomach, and anxiety took over. He pushed the door to the living room open. Leaning against the counter, glazed and pained eyes, was Jay, arms limp but still breathing. He doesn't remember crossing the room, just being right there with him.

"Jay … Jay! Please wake up Jay!" He had an awful fever, and groggily lifted his head.

"Alex … why."

"Alex isn't here right now, it's Tim, ok? Your friend Tim."

He blinked to life suddenly, chest working hard again. Too pained to move his diaphragm.

"Holy fucking shit Tim it hurts - I didn't think it would hurt this much - I - I can definitely feel it." Each breath shrieked through bared teeth.

"Ok ok I know buddy, I'm going to call 911 right now!"

"Hell no that's like -- 3k!"

"I kn- Jay are you serious right now!?!"

"I've been here for more than an hour … Another one - won't kill me, just - ah - just take me in a car…"

"Jay the ambulance around here is volunteer! Taxes!"

Anger crossed his face, more than when he took the tape from Tim.

"Put me in the back of an ambulance and I swear to god Timothy Wright my last act will be to kill you - *cough* - before Alex can."

"Ok ok! No ambulances! But if you pass out in the car I'm calling!"

"It's not like the movies … it … it takes a few hours … if it misses your vitals - as long as your heart's still beating."

"Lemme guess the internet."

"The internet."

"Ok, take a deep breath…" He was shaky, and weak muscled, but forced himself to put an arm under his legs and back and lift. Despite being as thin as he was, it felt like carrying a lead weight. 

"AHHHHH! SHIT THAT HURTS STOP! PUT ME DOWN!" He screeched out so wretchedly it made Tim want to throw up. But he can't put him down. Despite Jay's optimism, he has a nagging feeling there's no more time to wait. He probably shouldn't drive like this. 

There was a noise of a car outside. 'Shit!' Jay heard it too, gritting his teeth together. 'Fuck… ' He switched the kitchen light off with his shoulder, pulling him and Jay in the darkness between the counter and the fridge. He whimpered, struggling to stay quiet.

"I know Jay, I know it hurts. Shhh."

The front door opened, and the mistakable sound of sneakers on linoleum. They both held their breath.

He was quiet at first, perusing the room where Tim had been moments before. There was a liquid sound, pouring over the floor …

Then, Alex came Into the living room, but thankfully, walked down the hallway.

"Where are you, Tim?"

The first cry.

"Stop playing games and come out."

Whatever was spilling was following Alex around.

"This is what you wanted, right? Me and you. Here I am."

Tim felt something wet from the arm linked around Jay's back.

One of the bedroom doors opened, muffling Jay's sudden murmur of pain.

"Where are you hiding?"

"He's gonna kill us." Jay heaved out.

"Shh."

Another room opened. Jay bit down on his hand, squirming to avoid the sharp pains going down his spine. He wanted to apologize to Tim, he couldn't control it. 'Shit he's coming back this way.' 

"You in the attic?" Followed by a loud bang that made Tim flinch, but he used the opportunity to pry open a cabinet, thinking quickly.

"That's fine."

"Fuck- hurts." He pushed Jay into the cabinet in silence that he didn't think the old rickety house possessed. It was as if the house wanted to help them too. It was a horrible squeeze, and Tim had to choke Jay to stifle a scream.Tim held the door shut with one arm, the other wrapped around Jay's neck. Jay understood, and his hand covered his own mouth and nose. He couldn't see anything in the pitch black, but he shot an apologetic look at Jay.

"This is all your fault. I thought it was me, but you're the source!" He zeroed in on Jay's pulse, ignoring Alex's ramblings. Both men shivering in the dark, stuffy space. Jay finally scratched at Tim's hand, and he cautiously removed it, taking the moment to speak.

"I'm scared." Whispered into the darkness, but he answered back, happy at least, he was not alone.

"I'm scared too." Shit. Maybe Jay was right, they were going to die here. 'Do not cry now Timothy Jay needs you!'

You're the reason any of this happened! Everyone is gone BECAUSE OF YOU!" Alex blared.

Death. The great equalizer of mankind. Turning all that is left into fear.

"YOU LEFT JAY! AND YOU LEFT BRIAN! EVERYTHING THAT HAS HAPPENED IS YOUR FAULT!"

Maybe they met as kids once. In a different life. Playing hide and seek in an empty house. And this was all a fun game. And they were happy. And Jay wasn't dying. And Tim wasn't in the hospital. And Alex was the seeker, counting to ten.

The next shout came from the living room as Alex turned around.

"And it's not going to end, until you're dead!"

A better day when Jay felt warm and relaxed instead of cold, too cold like this. With a heartbeat racing now just a bit too fast. And his spleen hadn't ruptured, staining the side of Tim's jeans.

"So I'll tell you what … if you don't do the right thing, and burn to death, you come and find me."

He didn't hear "burn". Jay was becoming delirious in the tight space, and barely registers warm lips on his. Swallowing any painful cry and trying to breathe life back into him. Maybe he could survive. Maybe it would work.

Alex was in front of the kitchen. He would find them.

"We'll settle this." Tim was going to kill him before he could ever hurt Jay again. He looked out the cupboard, and instead of seeing a normal Alex, saw a reflectionless black creature, darker than the space that consumed them.

Then the back door opened and Tim finally heard Alex.

"You'll know where I'll be."

'He's leaving.'

He waited a few precious seconds, and the smell of gasoline hit him. 

"Jay - Jay we gotta go right now!" The smoke detector started blaring. He pulled Jay out, almost slipping on the stinky fluid, stumbling as fast as he could out the front door, across the lawn. They were out, but they weren't safe. 

He made it across the road, to his car, setting Jay down a moment to open the passenger door. 

Buckled, Tim jammed the keys into the ignition while struggling with his own belt, when barely next to his window a firetruck, blaring lights and sirens, appeared out of nowhere. Surely he would've heard a thing like that?

'They're early …'

A babbling came from Jay's side of the car.

"What Jay?"

"That's not - The firetrucks … they rarely use those sirens …"

"What do you mean Jay it's an emergency."

He coughed. "No, no they make noise, but only with … the horn, and the first dial. They only signal those sounds … if the building has collapsed."

"The hell did you learn that?"

"I don't know … I just did … some outside source."

Now that he mentioned it … uniformed people were pouring off, a hose line already connected and going. He couldn't see any symbol, any fire company. The engine was shrouded in something, something dark reflecting off the blue and red lights. 'Ash?'

One of the uniformed people hadn't moved from their spot, hot fire dancing behind them. The reflective marks on their suit were covered too.

"Tim go Tim get us out of here." He needn't be asked twice, shifting into drive and flooring it.

THWACK.

"Oh my god what did I hit!?!"

Jay's eyes were blown wide. "The Firefighter, they - they stepped out in front of the car! Tim they watched, us they did it on purpose, we need to go! Please!"

37. The person laying on the front of the car, their helmet reflecting just enough in the street light.

37. 37. Why did it burn so much in his head like the fever.

"TIM GO!" But the car was stuck on something. The person moved, looking through the windshield at them. A high collar hid their lower face, and a pair of human yet inhuman eyes, stared at them, lower lids gleaming next to the ash that encircled them.

"To the ark." A light voice, wringing in their heads, as they both blacked out.

---

Finally! Alnnasik reared his head around, back in the tunnel. The human hosting Alqamar pulled their mask off and looked wildly at them. 

"What's going on!" He and Eadala seized forward, met with a violent response.

But two are better than one, and time was of the essence. They wrangle Tim, binding him. He flung into a coughing fit, throes flinging him, but they already had him down.  Harut wasn't far but the curtains of black fell in a final crescendo, sweeping them away.

It was quiet in the darkness of the lotus flower. Tim was nervous, looking between each of them in the dim glowing light of a blue orb. 

He crawled over gently to him, who was too stunned to try and move away. He brushed the dirt and grime off his face with the leather gloves, smudging away tears as well. 

Alna pulled him to his chest, so he could hear his heartbeat. Something that to calmed frightened humans.

"It's ok. I've got you. You're safe. You're safe here. You're safe."

Chapter Text

Jay woke up. 'Oh wow this again … wasn't I talking to Brian just a minute ago … did I forget? Did I fall asleep?'

He became acutely aware of a slight damp under him, and the smell of clovers. It was well into the night, and a full moon peeked through the branch lines. Must be near the ridge…

The old wound in his side hurt - only a bit - but he always noticed that upon waking. He just needed to stretch for a while and it would fade.

He was still really tired though … and it was night. Who knows why he's laying out here, but moving right now? Wasn't up to it. His joints were still drooping with the drugging of sleep. It's a bit cold … not too much though. Not too wet. Not too itchy. And he felt safe to lie here.

Sooner than later, he heard a light coughing noise, and some stumbling. He didn't respond to it. 'Wasn't there … something important … I was asking Brian? Whatever … tired.'

---

Brian hadn't fallen asleep like Jay. He was used to this by now. He waited patiently, though excited, for him to stir awake. The same for Tim, who was a rock a few yards away. 

He approached Tim, who's eyelids began twitching. They opened partially, staring blankly at his feet, before following the pants up to see Brian, Hooded but with no mask.

"Brian?!?" 

He nodded.

"W-what … am I dead?"

He shook with a silent giggle.

"But you - you're - you - you're dead!"

He shrugged.

"What? What's going on?" He was sitting up now, beginning to hyperventilate.

"No … no you're not real … where are my pills."

He jumped the man and a struggle ensued as he checked Tim over for any signs of that monster's influence. He seemed clean.

His ears pricked at the sound of Jay stirring now.  He shot up, Tim in a death grip from behind.

---

"GAH! BRIAN LET - LET GO OF ME! BRIAN! STOP DRAGGING ME! BRIAN! I GET IT! I GET IT!" 

'Tim?' He kept hearing him in his dreams but his mind didn't feel like it was wrapped in that foggy cellophane. 

He rolled over, to see Brian kidnapping none other than Tim.

'This is one weirdddddd dream.'

Brian dropped him with a thud not too far away, crouching down.

"Oww, sh-"

"Hey Tim."

Tim whipped around, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness, dilating on a dark outline of Jay. 

"DON'T 'HEY TIM' ME MERRICK!" He lunged forward, semi-punching him in the nose.

"OW!" He held his nose, and Tim immediately spewed "I'm so sorry!" and "I don't know what came over me." Then switching back to a "YOU DESERVED THAT!"

He pulled Jay forward in a hug, causing him to half fall into Tim's lap. 

"Please … please tell me you're real this time."

"I …" ' Holy shit Tim is hugging me.' "I think so. I mean, last I checked." 

Nails tightened against his back. 'He thinks I'll disappear.' 

"Hey - I'm not going anywhere." 

"If you and Brian are lying to me I will kill you."

"Mmm, that would be unfortunate."

Tim released him in a lightbulb moment.

"Wait if your - and this is - and." He chewed on his hand nervously, then preceded walking back and forth between trees. He couldn't make out his ramblings much more than "Paperwork so much fucking paperwork."

Brian smiled at him, and then walked over, handing something to Jay. The skull mask.

'Ah!' "Brian you were … trying to tell me something earlier, right.?"

'Yes' He nods.

It was clicking, slowly, bit by bit, puzzle by puzzle piece snapping into place.

"Is this me?" He looked down at the mask in his hands. Brian made a so-so gesture.

"What's that supposed to mean? Gee I wish I had my camera …."

"Know … soon." He rasped out.

"Don't strain yourself it's alright…"

Tim paced around in the grass, rubbing a hand across his scalp. "Look I'm beyond relieved … joyful, elated, mentally - better off, that you're both alive but I have an actual job now, more than minimum wage, and I really need to get back to that. I can't miss another payment. You two need to-"

He stared at the gangly pair. A paranoid cameraman and a … jungle man?

"Ugh could you two even hold a job how you are." Jay snorted. 

"Look, when you two - we need to go … how far in the woods even are we …" He went back to darting eyes silently, hand in his face.

"We can't really leave anytime soon Tim." Jay mumbled, not sure if he'd heard him for a minute.

"Ok fine - when you wrap up your camping trip or whatever, just come find me. You can live with me for now but I … I have to get back. I can't stress how important it is that I keep this job. "I'm going to walk back now, goodnight."  He stared at the two expectantly, and when they just stood staring at him, huffed and turned to march through the woods in a 'I'm Tim and I'm moody right now' way.

Jay moved forward to stop him but Brian put a hand on his shoulder, affixed with a sly grin. 

"Oh …. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh." 

They started walking back to the cave. "Don't think he'll get hurt in the dark, will he?" Jay said. Brian shook his head.

"I'll get the fire started again." He sighed.

Their shadows danced on the walls as Jay tended to a cooking bird. Not 30 minutes had passed when they heard "JAY …. BRIAN?!?" in the distance. They walked out onto the beach to find Tim struggling through the branch wall, seeing them, and finally , moonlight glinting over endless miles of water.

"Yeah uh - where the hell are we?" Tim said, out of breath.

"I'm not sure. Brian what do we call this place?" Brian shrugged. "Yeah, thought so. All I know is one, it's an island, and two, most important - it's safe."

"Yeah I don't know what your definition of safe is Mr. 4 hours of sleep."

"Well, that thing isn't here … every time I black out I wake up on the beach again … oh! Yeah and there's no mosquitoes!"

"You're certain of that…"

"I mean you can look around … I've been here like … a week and a half or so."

"... Jay … a week and a half?"

"Yeah, Brian showed up a few days ago…"

"Jay -" His face was frozen.

"Is something wrong? Like, more than the usual?"

"You've been gone more than 7 months…"

"What?"

"It's July! 2014!"

"That can't be right I - " 'No it can be right. This has happened before.'

"It's alright - we'll figure it out, I'm sure.

"I guess my job is the least of our concerns right now."

"Ha yeah, sorry about that. Just come sit down..."

He quirked his head to the side, before following them down into an indent in the beach, limestone turning to a gray as they got lower. The cave had a high ceiling, footsteps echoing very well. A mess of a bed and a fire, smoke traveling out a hole in the roof, decorated the large space. 

Tim noted a branching tunnel off the side.

"How … big is this place?"

"Not much, that tunnel there splits into two, only goes back about ten more feet."

"Ok … still creepy though."

They sat at the fire … Brian began leaning more and more against Jay like a human pillow in the warm glow. 

A few minutes went by of Tim nervously glancing over at him, twiddling his thumbs. Looking like he was trying to speak but couldn't. Oh well, Jay was patient.

"I saw the tape."

"Gonna have to be more specific." 

"From your camera, you tried to call me. And left me a voicemail, but it never arrived …"

"Doesn't surprise me … can't remember anything after that weird shed up until getting shot."

"What!?!" Tim sat up. "You remember nothing?" His face pinched painfully for a fleeting second.

"No, I mean I tried thinking about it, but it just seemed like I went from that shack - to the hall. I just remember … I was going to say something to Alex … I don't know - I thought maybe … you know something was still left to reason with."

"Shit." Tim wiped his face. "I should've known before. I'm so sorry Jay I-"

"You don't have to be sorry Tim you didn't know any better-"

"But I did! I saw it, you were so - fucked - in the head. I should've forced you into a clinic at that point! You were sick and I didn't intervene."

"We're all sick."

"Not before this! You were all doing fine until I showed up."

Brian shook his head. Jay answered. "Alex was acting weird even before auditions, it just … increased."

"Yeah, because I came to … I don't know - "increase" it like you said! I-"

"Dammit Tim stop trying to blame yourself again. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't our fault. It wasn't even Alex's Fault, as stupid as he was about it." He didn't mean to snap that loud.

"That's not what Brian thinks." He mumbled.

"What?"

"Brian clearly thought it was my fault ." A painful fright came to Brian's face, as he shook his hands.

"It was written all over the place! Everywhere I went! And then you died and it was nothing but "your fault!" 

Brian was signing desperately, pointing to his throat, face turning rouge, whilst trying to search for the single pen they had for writing. Jay could only pick up some of it.

"Tim, why would Brian consciously do that. He's your best friend." 

"I DON'T KNOW!?! BECAUSE HE'S BEEN MESSED UP JUST AS MUCH AS ALEX!"

"No-" Brian coughed, before the string of phrases he could only repeat spilled. "Wait till we are alone together -"

"STOP STOP STOP STOP!" 

"Tim you're acting -" 'He's having a seizure.' Jay, somewhere, pulled this information. He wasn't having the "typical" seizure. But it was a seizure.

Tim screamed in a mantra. Jay was over to him in two steps. Tim wasn't looking at them, pupils dilated and glazed. Brian was next to Jay like a shadow. They looped under Tim's arms, lowering him to the ground, despite his legs locking up. And rolled him to his side. His eyes rolled back and the mantra cut short without air. Then one by one his muscles began clamping together as he curled in on himself, drool spilling from his mouth.

It wasn't like the one he had caught on tape prior. He jittered uncontrollably trying to fold in on himself, before snapping back, arched. Brian cushioned his head. 

Tim's eyes regained their focus and darted to look at either of them, but his face still twitched and locked with the spasms.

"Urghffff" He growled.

"We know, we know, it's going to be ok Tim you're doing great, try to breathe if you can."

His diaphragm heaved in a gasp of air the moment he could, then out, frothing the foam at his mouth.

The next 30 seconds passed like 30 minutes. The twitching slowed, muscles trying to relax and unlock. Finally having mercy on him, his body slacked into the ground. He breathed cautiously, head planted on the jacket, exhausted.

"You feeling better?" Jay asked quietly.

"Mhmm…. Sorry." 

"Shhh, it's alright. You're alright."

Tim looked at Jay, studying him over. Void of darkened eyes and  wearing a soft smile.

Still staring, he gaped, "You've changed."

Jay's face quirked nervously "Uhhh-"

"Not- Not in a bad way!" He corrected. Hand rubbing at his neck.

"Oh …" 

"I think we all need some sleep. We can - talk more in the morning."

"Agreed…"

"There's no real beds, just kind uh … this leaf sleeping bag combo I've got going on here."

"That's fine…"

"I don't think it's going to rain tonight, it can stay on the floor at least." Brian preferred the light and warmth of the fire anyways.

Jay nestled himself as far to the left, trying to make as much room as possible, laying the jacket over himself like a blanket. Brian layed next to him, patting the leaves demandingly for Tim to sit down.

He fiddled awkwardly for a moment, then later down on the right, only for Brian to quickly trap him in a death squeeze.

"Bri - Brian I can't breathe---" With a pout Brian switched positions a bit so that Tim wouldn't die of oxygen loss.

Tim faced Jay, "He's got a vice grip …"

Jay mumbled, half awake "Yep, he loves doing that … he wishes he could scream."

"You know … I think that thing … it was trying to split us up…" Jay muttered

"You mean the thing."

"Yeah …" rolled into his side to look at Tim.

"That's why everyone pushed away help … I think when you came to help me … it couldn't stand that. Maybe that's why I woke up in that shack …"

"You … did act really weird … tried to stab me…"

"Wait what."

"Worry about it later."

"... Alright." He sighed.

"The whole time, actually, I couldn't remember my parents. I couldn't get help from them. It was trying to isolate us. Made us forget about the people we loved and cared about. Made us fight one another so we wouldn't work together. So I wouldn't get help." Brian's hand reached back, patting Jay on the face.

"Now all they know is, I just ran off out of the blue after college, never called, then ended up on a missing persons list…"

"And that all your friends went on a missing persons list." He noted sarcastically. 

"Maybe they thought we were a cult of something." 

Tim actually snorted at that, warming his heart.

"Night"

"Night…"

---

Jay was awoken by a prodding at his back. He turned his shoulder, seeing Brian or "Not Brian", as he called him, wearing the hood.

"Is everything alright?" He noticed Tim was missing…

"Where did Tim go?" They just stared at him.

Jay pointed to the empty spot. They looked, then back to Jay, their head bobbing strangely. 

"Sorry … don't know what that means."

They crawled up next to him with a paper and pad, and began writing, in the strange distorted code. But he had ciphered one like this before. After a few minutes of scribbling.

'Looking around. Tell 48822874728373827 come back' He couldn't turn the numbers into anything coherent. After reading the message, the plastic mask was shoved into his hands.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and adjusted the mask to his face.

"Sorry nothing's happening." They scrambled around. They turned on their heels pouting angrily. 

"I'm sure they'll be back later."  But it was obvious now, they couldn't understand Jay either. He set the mask aside.

"Oh sit down and be patient you asshole!" He joked. At the tone, the creature masquerading in Brian's body shrunk, immediately plopping to the floor. They picked at their gloved fingers.

He sighed. "Come here." Patting the ground next to him. They quickly slinked over on all fours, curling up next to Jay like a dog. Their chin rested on his shoulder, as if expecting something.

"What?"

There was a snort of air, making the cloth puff out, before they shifted their head like they were trying to fit it behind Jay's own. 

They kept squirming like this until they managed to wedge their front half between his back and the cave wall. Curled together like a little ball, using Jay as a hiding spot. They seemed content to sit in the uncomfortable position. 

The shared warmth led him to almost fall asleep again, until a loud crash startled both of them.

The masked man had landed at the cave entrance, feet first, with a thud, favoring his right leg.  He still gave an air of menace off to Jay. The hooded one immediately broke from his hiding spot, sitting defensively in front of Jay, arm in front of him.

Then, Jay heard a peculiar chattering sound from the masked one. Quiet, almost indiscernible, but there. He didn't think he'd heard them even make a noise, except for the scream when Alex had broken his leg. He couldn't call them Tim. No, they were much different. It definitely wasn't Tim.

The defensive one relaxed, putting their arm down, content just to sit in front of him. 

They crawled rather than walked, shrinking to a less intimidating stature, but they had to swing their left leg all the way in front, to avoid putting weight on it too much. They rounded the fire, orange dancing off white. If it weren't for the hair, they could easily pass for a separate person. Reaching the hooded one, they made a different kind of chittering, higher and more whistley. They crouched in front of one another, knees together.

He watched almost in awe, unsure if he should look away or not. They were very careful with one another, looking each other over with soft pokes and touches, sniffs here and there.

He blushed a bit at the odd display.

His heart stopped when the masked one's hands closed around the other's neck. There was no struggle. The other did the same. 'Like - they're feeling for a pulse point…?'

Then the hooded one slunk back over to Jay, two hands on his shoulder, and looked at the masked one.

They tilt their head to the side, then to Jay, black eyes boring into him. He couldn't see the eyes behind them in the low light. He gulped. 

They took their time approaching him, but Jay didn't run or make a move, trying to stay loose. He knew they could read everything in his posture. But the hooded one was a reassurance to him, they remained calm. 

A hand reached out and poked him in the nose. He tensed a bit, and they flinched back, before reaching again. They poked at the nose slowly up to the bridge. He wasn't exactly sure how to feel being "appraised."

"Interesting." It was such a peculiar sound, Tim's definitely, but lower, reverbing differently in the cave, giving him goosebumps.

"Did … did you just talk?"

They didn't answer the question, beeping again.

And after a moment, they were in his face, pressing the plastic lips to his own.

It was weird. But he's not complaining, lighting up red. 

They pulled back chattering at their companion. They begin - grooming? - his hair.

"Less annoying then The Tim." Pronounced with an odd murmur on each vowel. 

"W-what?" But they didn't repeat the phrase.

After what felt like a debate took place, the hooded one was in his face, pressing the cloth face to his own.

"Mmph." He hummed embarrassed. He really hasn't kissed anyone back before, just froze up stiff. 'Now's a better time than never.'

He had poor to no experience in the matter but he was trying his best to reciprocate. He tilted his head to the side, closing his eyes, and feeling for the lips through the fabric, and his mind buzzed away, sound blurring out. He registered at one moment that he was wetting the fabric with their breath, like he was trying to make out with a sock puppet. He couldn't believe this, of all things, was happening. He licked out gently at the spot.

He pulled back wiping his mouth with his sleeve, flushed over. The two were 'talking' again.

Then the masked, slowly, cautiously, wrapped their palms around his neck, watching Jay intently. He didn't move, and thankfully, wasn't strangled.

"Good choice." Was it supposed to be a compliment?

Eventually he was being dragged down on his side. The masked one curling around him protectively. 'Oh this is so wrong.' He was totally violating Tim's personal space, But could he even really escape this either? Was this consensual? Would he just have to put up with it and explained in the morning? Then the hooded one was in front of him pulling at Jay's arm, and they argued again.

They seemed to settle in, Jay's arm being pulled like it was a teddy bear.

He got over the weirdness of it, wanting to sleep rather than think about it all night.

-[Same thing from the creatures perspective]-

"Their noses are always weird. Where is bone and where is flesh?"

'Cartilage.'

"Interesting." He knew that word of English enough.

They responded with some sort of question, but he could never guess.

"How do humans greet one another?"

'I don't know. Sometimes they kiss.'

"What?"

'They put their mouths together.'

"...odd."

He pressed the lips of the mask to the human's. It wasn't his real mouth but oh well.

The human turned a different color, from a pale cream to a rouge pink. Yes yes this one was a lot more interesting than Tim. 

He pulled back.

"How long do they hold it for?"

'I don't know.' 

They seemed to get it enough, as they sat there a bit dazed, staring at him.

"Does he understand?"

'The Brian kissed him once and got the same reaction. I believe it is a good thing.' Ead heard said human imitating the click for "stupid".

He sifted through the puff of fur adorning his head.

"Where are his antlers?"

'They don't have antlers dumbass.'

"Unfortunate."

The human was less squirmy than most. Not trying to kick, bite, or throw rocks at him. Once it was a flaming bottle of liquid.

"Less annoying then The Tim." He spoke in English.

"I told him he was not as frustrating as The Tim was. And he's certainly not an Alex. Do you think I said it right?"

'I don't know, he's just staring more at you.'

"Is that a good thing?"

'I don't know.'

"Why are all your answers I don't know." 

"I don't know.'

"I am still worried he cannot understand me." 

'If it makes you feel better I will try."

The cloth mask pressed to his face, and they shifted a bit. He realized they were trying to feel for a mouth under the fabric. 'We must be doing something right.' Their mouth moved lightly pushing him as his lips seemed to feel him out. Now it was his turn to be flustered at such a strange display of affection. A pink tongue poked out at him before retracting.

"So odd, a pink, prehensile fleshy bit behind teeth." 

'It can taste things too.'

"Oh really? Is he trying to taste you."

'I don't know.'

"I hope he's not trying to eat you because he is poorly failing."

'I don't believe he was trying to. He seems happy.'

"Hmm their heart is a fast runner. Funny."

"You like The Jay, admit it.'

"I like The Jay."

'You're lucky, since your first impression was tackling him.'

"Fine … I will admit it, Alna made a good choice."

'Ke~ke~ke.'

He turned to The Jay. "Good choice." He said in broken vowels.

"Do humans sleep in nesting groups?"

'I don't know. The Brian sleeps like that. But their nests are more rectangle than round. They're comfy and warm like a nest.' 

"Whatever it will do. Harut definitely can't get here."

'Does he even deserve a name any more?'

"He was born with it and he will die with it."

'Sheesh, ok.'

He pulled the human into a curve, plopping down on the leaves with a huff. 

'Hey no fair' Signed Ead.

"Mine." He grumbled

'You need to share!'

" Too tired. Shut up."

'You're annoying.' 

"I'm not reading anymore."

He settled for clinging to his arm, comforted by the slow thumping of his pulse.

He had his family back. Even if it was in a bunch of shared bodies. He could manage that. Yes. It would be alright.

Chapter Text

"Please leave a message after the beep *beep*"

"Jay … it's me … Jessica Locke. Look, Tim said you lost your phone and couldn't call back, but I don't know who else to call. I'm just hoping maybe you, or even someone found it? I don't know if you were with him, but Tim, he's missing … like "on the news" missing. I tried calling him and he won't pick up, nothing at all. The police keep saying it looked like some violent struggle happened … but they can't find him. I'm really worried. If you could call back … any time, that'd be great. I'm … not sure what to do. I mean I've been ok myself - but I know you and Tim are friends, I just hope he's alright. Anyways, yeah, please call back. Goodbye." She snapped the phone shut. 

"Great…" Work was in 8 hours … She didn't want to go around tired again. But sleep was going to be hard to come by. 

She heard an odd - was that - a squawking noise?

'A parrot? Here? At this time of night?' She peaked through the peephole, and sure enough, on the metal railing, was a parrot.

'Maybe someone's pet got out.' She turned the knob slowly, door creaking open, thwarting her attempts to make any loud noises. But the parrot stayed, studying her with a yellow eye. She always found birds cute - but a bit creepy - with their odd head tilts.

"Uh … hey birdy birdy." She murmured. On closer inspection, it was holding a cylinder in its talons. 

'Maybe it will have a phone number'

She cautiously moved her hand out, and the bird didn't try to bite, in fact, offered the little metal tube to her.

It dropped it in her hand, and she un-screwed a lid, pulling out some curled paper. 

'Bingo'.

Unraveling, she realized it was a flyer.

'To Jessica Locke'

"What are they, sending mail by carrier pigeon."

She received a squawk. Almost offended like, she imagined.

"Sorry, Grey Parrot."

"Squawk" It looked quizzically at the empty canister. She offered it back, and in a moment, it was plucked back and they took off in a flurry of feathers. She watched it fly for a bit, concerned it was still lost, but it seemed determined on its course, so she went back inside, deadbolt-ing the door.

'Rusty Lake Mental Health & Fishing' 

She flipped it over and read aloud to herself.

"We will help you balance the substance of your past lives. After completion of our mental health program, you will feel reborn." - "What kind of garbage is this? Sounds like hippies straight out of the 80's… there isn't even a phone number."

She set it down rubbing her clammy forehead. Another random fever. She dry swallowed some ibuprofen for the 3rd night in a row, and got into bed, resolving to stare at the ceiling, imagining little pictures in the paint swirls. She threw a cap over the bright red numbers of the alarm clock, knowing she would keep looking over at it.

She doesn't remember falling asleep but she moves the hat to see it's 4 am now. The pills at least had taken effect. She could hear birds already beginning to fight outside.

"Come on guys … can you wait one more hour?" 

And when they listened and went silent, it was the first cue to her something was up.

She walked to the bathroom sink, cramped in the studio apartment, taking down another glass of water.

The apartment shook violently underfoot. A moment of a second. Frames rattling on the walls. She stayed calm, for she knew there was a quarry nearby. What she forgot - the quarry only blasts at 11:10 on Monday. Today is Wednesday.

The third red flag was the other face staring back in the mirror at her. Just over her shoulder. She startled a moment, but remembered it was all a part of her mental illness. It wasn't real. It couldn't do anything.

"We must go little one."

The auditory was kicking in now. An "imaginary friend" she had since childhood. Except, she never imagined them on purpose. Just there. ' Duh that's what a hallucination is, Jess.' 

There was another quake which cued the schedule of the quarry back to her mind. 'Yes that's right! They don't blast during the night …'

She backed into the middle of the room, paranoid. There was only the sound of a buzzing fan and settling walls. She grabbed the pepper spray off her nightstand. 

'The sooner we panic the sooner we lose.' That's how she had kept calm. With a masked stranger pulling her through the woods. To a gun being shoved in her face, and her taking it back. Panic would end her. So she did not panic. 

BLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLRRRRRRRRRE

She didn't see it, just knew, pushing through a crushing weight in her sinus. Ripping the latches off the apartment door.

'Run.'  

She didn't stop to think, diving over the railing. Falling towards the parking lot below.

'No!' Her hands came out in front of her trying to shield herself.

Chapter Text

Lapping water and a slow rocking awoke her, wood poking into the back of her spine. Her eyes snapped open, jumping forward. She was in a wooden boat on the water. It was daylight. Kind of. The sky was an eerie wine red, trees and mountains blotting the landscape. She only just then noticed a man rowing the boat. Dressed in a fishing outfit.

"Hello?" He took no notice of her.

"Where are we? Who are you?" 

He just kept on rowing .

"Umm, sir?" Was he deaf?

Her arms folded as she watched. He still didn't acknowledge her.

"Fine … guess we'll play the quiet game."

They were slowly making their way across the middle of the lake - she presumed it was a lake. The water reflected a maroon pink from the sky. 

Looking over his shoulder, she realized, a few hundred yards, they were heading toward a wooden mill. Still and desolate.

She tapped her foot anxiously, daring to peek over the edge. She could see a few fish near the surface. Wondering how deep it was did not help her circumstance.

"Sir … where are we going?" Still no response. His eyes were shut, almost meditating with each oar stroke. She didn't really feel like trying to put up a fight, if this was some kind of kidnapping. Atleast, not until they reached land. They were growing close now.

They pulled up to a well aged, barnacled dock. They stopped rowing, and finally looked at her. Calm, old blue eyes. Their head turned towards the pier.

"Should I … should I get out."

He nodded.

"Oh … ok." 'Weird.' She stood doing her best not to rock the boat. She threatened to fall for a moment when a fish hit the side, but her hand was caught by the man. He stood hunched over, and held onto her as she scrambled onto the pier.

"Are you going to come back? I don't know where we are." 

He nodded, pointing at the mill, and began rowing away.

"W-wait-!" But he didn't listen. She sighed, tuning to the dilapidated building.

"Hey I don't-" The boat was gone. Empty and flat water in their wake.

'Nope Nope Nope' she moved, deciding it was safer inside.

She had to shove the entrance in, dusty glass and old wood swelling in its frame. Still in her pajamas, she minded the floor for splinter while she squinted in the thin light. Barren, accept for a strange metal contraption in the corner, a cupboard, table, and wood stove. A ladder hung down from a closed hatch. She pulled at a hanging bulb, concluding the power was out as a puff of dust landed on her face, which she spit off.

Pushing the iron door, she walked down a small flight of stairs into a mossy basement, water green and murky, hiding god knows what. She sloshed through, to the breaker, flipping the switches all on. The lonely light flickered on, and she heard the signs of a generator as the place came to life.

Coming up, she stopped. Yes - it was unmistakable. Quiet sobs echoed from the main floor, feasing when she creaked on the top step. Convinced it was either a hallucination or - she hadn't considered - a dream. This might all just be a very weird dream.

A few wood boards bent up awkwardly, pointed and fractured. A shine caught her eye, a black key tucked safely under the plank.

She gazed around the room upon hearing a shuffling noise. There was one key hole in the cupboard, and the same place had emitted the sound.

"Hello?" She unlocked the cabinet and jumped back to see a boy staring at her nervously. Eyes puffy and raw. 

"Ah! Sorry … you startled me." Her hand rested over her heart.

He remained wide-eyed.

"Are you ok?" She stepped closer. Nothing.

"My name's Jessica, what's yours?"

He scowled, mumbling "Ticci Toby"

"Huh?"

"Toby…" 

"Oh, it's nice to meet you Toby." She offered a hand out and only received a blank stare, before a pale calloused hand cautiously took hers and she shook.

"Do you know where we are? Oh! This isn't your house right? Did I break in? No wait - why were you locked in a cabinet."

"One question at a time …."

"Ha, Sorry." She smiled.

"I-I don't know ... woke up here." He didn't make eye contact. Jessica gave him the 'I know you're lying but I'm not going to push it' eyebrow.

"Then … someone else must've locked you in there… that's … frightening."

"My stuff is missing…"

"Well, I can help you find it … not like there's much else to do here." She laughed.

"....Alright." He unfolded from the spot one leg, then the other, planting then silently on the floor. He kept his head tilted to the left, awkwardly, away from her sight. He stood behind her, hunched over, hands pocketed.

She knew she was getting the cold shoulder, but who wouldn't?

"Well … I have no idea why anyone would put them in an oven, but might as well check…"

She kneeled, opening the old thing. It was thoroughly stained.

"Eww… no janitors around here I guess." She cracked. It had a series of drawers for cooking, which she checked over. 

In the corner of her eye, he'd gotten uncomfortably close to the oven door and herself, and she certainly noticed fingers creeping out to grab the handle. 

She stood up. "Unless it's in the walls or something … or outside - I don't think it's on this floor … might be above. Dumb question, you haven't been up there yet right?"

The hand flew back to its pocket. "No … I was just in the cupboard. I don't know what's up there. 

Still wary, she tested the ladder. It seemed sturdy enough, she joked "Wow can't wait till I reach the top and this thing snaps."

"Hmph." Almost inaudible, but there was a tiny chuckle.

She hit the door with her forearm. She pushed. It wasn't locked … but something was definitely weighing it.

"Think it's - blocked by something. I really hope it's not a body."

"Could climb…"

"Hmm?" She made her way down.

"Could climb into the window."

"I guess … if there is a window. 

Heading outside, Jessica peered out of the water.

"I don't remember there being an island …" They both looked at a white and blue building … castle like in architecture.

"Ghost building." He murmured, guessing it was some kind of attempt at a joke. Jessica huffed. "Yeah … wouldn't be the weirdest thing I've ever seen." 

"Oh really? Like what?" He suddenly took interest, eyes fixed on her with a deadly stare, rather than darting around.

"I don't think you'll believe me."

"Try." His face twitched a bit, moving to his lip, which pulled back slightly to show white teeth.

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you." But before she said anything, she peaked around the side of the mill. It was on a little peninsula between the lake and a river. She stared out at the pines nervously scanning.

"Actually I'd rather not say…"

"Why not?" She realized he was attempting to pester her.

"Because with my luck I'll probably jinx us."

"What? You think some monster is going to come out of the woods and eat you ?

"That's … pretty close."

"Ha!" Though he didn't seem to be mocking her. "The real monsters you should be scared of are human."

She walked around the front dock, looking up to see two windows above the front door, behind the big propellers.

"I used to think that, but then I thought, the ones you really need to fear are the ones that weren't monsters to begin with … "

"... I don't think I get it."

"I'm not sure I do either!" She leaned against the building. But I once heard something like - 'if there's a gun being pointed at you, you pray to God that they are a monster … cus they want your fear, not your life, while a scared man will shoot you.' I don't know, it's been a long time. Not entirely accurate though." She smiled.

"Whatever." He took a running start, and with surprising dexterity, ran up the side of the building in sneakers, fingers digging in between the wood panels, then swinging a knee through the open window. 

'Well that's convenient.'

"It's open." A barely audible yell returned.

Inside, after climbing through the open hatch, she noted this room was much more liveable, a small area rug covering the floor, pictures and poetry hung to the wood walls, a yarn wheel, potted grass - and most surprising of all … a cow. 

"How … did it get up here. I didn't even hear any noise at all!" The bovine was content eating the grass from the pot.

"...maybe it flew?" Toby mumbled, searching around the room desperately. He tried the door on an antique clock, but it was practically bolted shut. 

Jessica noticed a picture construed in its place, and pushed it, revealing a compartment behind. Inside were two hatchets, one a bit older than the other - along with other equipment.

Toby brushed past her suddenly, close to jumping for joy.

"This is it."

He picked the axes up, Jessica noticing the way they were held, like an extension of himself. He'd used them before . But for what? 

Though, he visibly relaxed having them in hand, making Jessica feel a bit more secure. They were snapped away on a utility belt. He turned away, securing the goggles and face guard under his hair comfortably. Their posture changed to that of confidence. 

"Do you work in construction?"

"Hmm? … oh … sure." He replied.

"Cool. I just deliver packages."

"Well I -" He started.

"SQUAWK"

They both looked at the window sill.

"It's that parrot again!" She walked towards it.

"Again?" Toby asked.

Another vial offered, another slip of paper.

'Welcome to Rusty Lake. Empty your mind and enjoy your stay.' She looked past the parrot. A setting sun was casting the lake in a wine red color.

"I guess that's why it's called Rusty Lake … but how did …"

"What's a Rusty Lake?"

"I don't know myself … I got an ad though, from that parrot."

"What? Really?"

"Yeah, and then I woke up here not too much later…"

"Heh … spooky."

"Glad someone's enjoying this …"

She sank against the wall, another had a headache fever combo coming on.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, Yeah - this happens a lot, I just need to sit down for a few minutes." She hated how the cotton pj bottoms stuck uncomfortably, itching when she worked up a sweat.

She tucked her legs to her chest, leaning her throbbing head back. It was bad this time, her skull wanting to split open.  She didn't mean to, but nodded off, seeing the orange goggles that glared unnaturally in the window light. 

---

He'd told a partial truth. And a partial lie. He really hadn't known how he got locked in a cupboard. But he painfully remembers getting here. Hiking through miles of foggy woods, shadows zipping just out of his sight. 

He came across a deer, beheaded. Originally he prepared himself for a fight with another killer. He was on someone else's territory anyways. But that never came. Instead a writhing silhouette of a person crawled from the deers carcass. All black in color, not even reflecting a bit of light. All except for two, glowing white eyes.

And these creatures would not die . They burst into bugs, appearing in some other form to taunt him. 

Out in the woods he'd come across a road, an intersection. A red light one way. Green the other. 'Why do I remember this ? Oh yeah…"

He'd stared numbly, watching the accident replay from a different perspective.

Her arm had come to slam over his chest, cushioning the airbag that exploded in his face. That's why he lived. She was on the side of the hit. That's why she died. After they flipped 5 times. Because her blood didn't clot. 

He watches his younger self being pried from the crumbled wreck. A hydraulic tool pushing the door open like snapping twigs. To free him from a crumpled shell. He thinks it's the operator, the master, showing him a reminder of his agony. But why right now? 

He noticed, standing a few trees over from him, a firefighter - soot covered head to toe - also watching the wreckage - instead of doing anything.

Numbness turned to anger but when he opened his mouth to shout, only static came out. But they noticed him anyway.

Their coat came up too far, the same way he hid his own scarred mouth. Ash ringed blue eyes, lids heavy yet unblinking. An orange emblem snapped to a hel

Then they're walking over. Weighted boots - dull thuds on the forest floor. 

And if it wasn't himself, maybe he would've moved away from the advancing stranger.

"Yo kid -" Their voice was god awful and grating. A gloved hand landed on his shoulder, and something receded back across his skin. He could see his hands again, his arms.

"Careful, soul isn't looking too hot." They laughed.

"Well, this ain't my stop. See you on the flip side." And they were gone.

And then he was fighting black monsters trying to tear at him, and running through endless trees, dodging scene after scene of bad memories. He'd kept going until he ran into a newer version of himself. And they were genuinely frightened, thrashing at him. Who knows why he did, but he'd slit their neck open, and they fell back into a creek. And in its reflection, he saw the same black monster, growing over his body.

And then he woke up in the cupboard.

He assumed this was some sort of assignment. An isolated area with only one other person. The master - the operator, likely wanted him to kill this woman, and he would be returned to that forest, awaiting the next kill. Though every time had a chance, the static anger didn't intrude, and he, for once, couldn't bring himself to it.

He'd gotten close, her head naïvely ducked to look in the oven. It would be simple and mostly painless. Push her and knock her out with the oven door. She stood, breaking that thought. He had the feeling she was smarter than she let show. Never mentioned his odd proclivities, the nervous stutter. Called him Toby. But that pissed him off just as much. There were those who made fun of him, and those who tried to ignore its existence. Treat him normally, when he knew he wasn't normal. But at least she wasn't condescending. She spoke to him like an equal, not bringing him down, or acting like he would crack so easily. ' Like my sister' His mind whispered. Oh that got on his nerves more than the bullies. Their pity . He showed them fear, and the pity vanished.

Her mentioning of monsters intrigued him. Perhaps it would give a clue to why she was a target to begin with. But he got nothing more.

'She's smart …' This would be a challenge.

Well he thought she was smart, until she straight up fell asleep across the room from him.

He didn't want to kill her while she slept. But once he did it, this would be over. He would return to the safety of those never-ending woods, and not these terror filled ones. He remembered what the man in the woods had said. 

But he'd already decided. 

Give her a painless death. He would at least do that much. A mercy from the constant fear hiding behind her eyes.

It would be a swift blow to the head. He felt bad, having to destroy her face to get the job done. A closed casket. If she even was found.

So he raised the piked axe.

"You better not." He froze. Impossible. No no nothing is impossible.

Her eyes were still closed, brows furrowed in pain, sweat running down her temple. Was she dreaming?

"I'm not dying to another guy hiding in a mask. Not yet. There's still stuff I have to complete. So don't try it. You will fail."

It could be a bluff … he lowered the weapon to his side.

"Why will I fail?" His eyes narrowed.

"Because I'm not ready to die yet."

"Many people aren't."

"I won't let you take me until I'm ready, so you'll have to be patient."

It was almost like a mother scolding her child.

"And because … that thing isn't here."

"..."

"You've seen it too, I knew the moment you first looked at me." 

"The faceless monster…." He mumbled.

"With a slender body…." She replied.

"Tall as the trees…."

"Blaring like the static of an empty television channel…"

"To … follow us…"

"No" - she said - "To make us kill, and to take us away."

Maybe the man in the woods was right.

"Just get some rest … it's probably been a long day for the both of us. If it makes you happy you can try killing me again later. Please, just for now, I need some sleep. Ok?"

"Ok." She leaned against the corner once more, until her breathing slowed with sleep.

And maybe it was an odd and misplaced trust, but it held. He laid down on the area rug, old, dusty, and stiff, but better than hardwood boards. And he did feel tired, like the setting sun had curled up in him and wanted a nap.

Fine. For now he would listen.

Chapter Text

A buzzing woke them at about midnight, still bright outside with the moon reflecting.

The phone. An old one. Out of morbid curiosity, Toby got up, poking at the old thing. Jessica was over in a beat, rubbing her eyes. He picked the receiver up, and listened.

"ekallll ethhee ooot turraaahhh rooyyyy eevvvvig. Essnaaallaaaabaaa. Duuuam eb tusssum secccifirrcrassss"

"It's just a bunch of nonsense…" he handed the phone over, but while she heard jumbled letters … it was clear. 

"Sacrifices must be made. Balance. Give your heart to the lake. 11:05." The line died with a tone. 

"A mystery!" 

"What?"

"11:05…"

"You understood any of that?"

"Yeah, it sounded clear to me."

"... You're weird."

"Hmm, maybe-" she reached, turning the metal dial on the clock, it was sharp, pricking a finger, but she continued to "11:05", shaking off the pain.

Shick. A curled piece of paper slipped under the door of the grandfather clock. It depicted an ink drawing of an antique knife. 

"Any ideas-" since when was there a knife on that table?

Involuntarily, her ears twitched to a small tapping. A scratching. Toby heard it too.

A hand burst through the side wall of the clock. 

"EEK!" She jumped back. A pale, manicured hand gestured for something from her…

The only thing she had was the knife. Maybe they were stuck? So she dropped it carefully in the outreached fingers. The arm slunk back into the darkness of the clock. No further scratching.

Nails reemerged … clutching a human heart….

She was going to throw up … but if her hunch was right … then this was … necessary. 

"This is above my pay grade …"

She took the heart, cold and squishy.  

'Eww Eww Eww.' Toby seemed to care less, as she stumbled over to the window, throwing the thing into the shining lake below.

It was followed by a ripple, and silence. 

"What was that for?" Toby incited.

The sky cracked open with thunder, wind pushing the large panels outside the window, creaking to life. Water sloshed in the basement as the wheel began turning. The mill was working.

"What did you do?"

"I … I don't know…"

Another rumble shuddered the wood. Jessica leaned against the wall for support. The clock shook violently with the sky, until the locked door gave, and the body of a woman fell to the floor. Thud.

"Oh my god!" She hyperventilated.

"We - gotta go. We gotta go now."

"It's just a body … it's not going to bite you or anything." Toby reasoned.

"But if there's a body here, the killer's probably nearby too! Hell this might be their hideout or some crazy thing!"

"Don't worry! You've got me!" He gave a thumbs up.

"Great." She sighed.

The body twitched. Then again. Nerves firing one by one.

"What was that you were saying about it not biting?"

"Wow, Never seen that before." Toby kneeled down to inspect it.

The spine cracked with energy, and the corpse shivered as a thick black mottled through skin, hair, and even the green, cube-patterned dress she wore.

Her head was strangely silent.

"Run."

"Eh?"

"RUN!" She grabbed his wrist, half throwing him down the ladder access before jumping herself, not bothering with climbing.

The front door wouldn't budge as she ran into it. The glass wouldn't break. She didn't know why but she knew they had to get out. Out-out-out-out!

The floor above screeched horribly, and noticeably sagged in the middle. She gasped being tugged backwards, reminded of the other presence. The boards snapped, and along with a headless cow (still alive … somehow) the upper room collapsed in on them. 

---

"It's time." 

---

He stood in the cellar door frame, staring at the destruction, and an enclosing darkness.

'Oh yeah.' He'd pulled her to safety. He'd saved somebody. But when he turned to check, he was met by her body lying still on the cold stone.

"...Shit." Was she dead? When did she get hit? Hesitantly placing a hand on her back, he shook. Nothing. And this -

this scared him.

He didn't like this old feeling, trying to weasel it's way back. That was a benefit of the monster, it took away the hurt caused by death. 

There was a god-awful screeching coming from the rubble and he slammed the metal door, locking it.

He cowered in on himself, hands pulling nervously at his hair, leaning against the door. Each impact behind him brought a whimper. He was about to wish for the master to come immediately, to make this humanity go away. 

But the aggravating, stupid words of that man in the woods would not stop scratching around. He hated thinking. It was the one thing he couldn't throw a hatchet at.

And so finally he couldn't run anymore, and acknowledged the thought.

'Maybe ... I was wrong?' The fear of that possibility left him swallowing bile. Physical pain - he was blessed to never know - But there was the kind stuck behind his skull that he couldn't reach, couldn't pry out. 

He hated fear … but the fact that now he could actually feel it…. and the saran wrap around his brain - it was gone.

He didn't call the monster. He would handle this on his own. 

A hand broke through the iron, and he cut it into a cloud of moths. He stood in the door frame, ready.

The thing was only a bit taller than himself, but loomed none-the-less. A fuzzing angry mob of black, with eyes like headlights. He faintly registered that the wall had its own heartbeat. It pulsed along with the monster. With a down arc, he cut into their chest, and they split apart at the seam, only to reform moments later.

Wrath. That was all it felt. How many times would he have to cut it in half, before or stayed that way? 

"Dddddlllllloooob eeeeb llliw errreeehhhttt" 

It spat something behind a stitched mouth, followed by what sounded like a jaguar roar.

"What?" 

The pulsing was louder, he breathed hard but the thirst for oxygen wouldn't dissipate. 

'Shit!' It was a strange and horrible sensation as he fell to his knees, his lungs heaved as his heart went into overdrive. He ripped the guard down.

'There's no oxygen…'  

There was a distinct burn, but cold. 

He fought it for as long as possible, but his muscles were shaking and giving up. He could barely focus on the monster approaching him. In fact … it wasn't moving. Just standing.

'I'm not calling I'm not calling I'm not calling for help.'

Both from the numbness, and the lack of oxygen he didn't feel himself being tugged, only noticed the ground below him shifting. The orange view fell away as the goggles were cut off, and something latched to his face, and then another with a snap.

"HUHhhhh" 'finally !' The starved feeling fled away. He noticed a bit of resistance as he breathed out, and a suction noise - like he was Darth Vader or some shit.

"Almost got you that time pal!" 

'Who's there!?!' he darted, but whatever was on his face had fogged over.

"Gonna have to try again there brother. Before it switches rooms on you again."

"What?" He sounded muffled.

"You're in a different room then you were before. You can't breathe here friend, it's all nitrogen. I'd recommend going back."

"W-whehere! What? How-aw-?"

"Don't worry I can help you with that!"

He registered a solid knock to the side of his head, and it went dark.

---

She awoke, upside down, the blood rushing to her head. Everything hurt. Especially her feet she noticed. Cold metal.

They were shackles, clasped around her ankles, and she was hanging from the ceiling. Her head was in a closed metal box - claustrophobia - but she controlled it.

'Nothing's hurting us at the moment. Panicking will only make this worse. Breathe .' There was a single window in the box, like a TV screen. The room was - dark - No, not that - fuzzy. Like the light was still on, but nothing else. Like … the sun was missing.

Her eyes were blinded by white, forcing her to close them. And she felt a tugging at her temple. Something pleasant. Something sweet. A happy memory that she could not place. She could hear water splashing, children laughing. It was … alright.

It was ripped through by a searing black. And a more forceful knock at the front of her skull. She felt an awful hot flash shiver up her body. She clamped her fists and closed her eyes. It was an awful feeling. Yelling - yes she knew this one. As the person next to her stepped forward blocking the assailant … who was it. 'I remember them from somewhere .' 

And Alex Kralie - She wouldn't forget that name. Yelling and gesturing that lighter at them. That device. Something she knew brought death to Amy - and others. There had to be others. And they were next . ' Did I die then?' 

No. The woman with black eyes and a porcelain face had tackled Alex Kralie. There was a gunshot, and Jessica screamed, fearing she couldn't hear anymore. So many people. So much porcelain. ' I'm made of porcelain. And I'm breaking.'

.

.

.

'No we're not! A heart beats in my chest and I know for certain it's still going. I'm still here.' Years of panic attacks and episodes taught her this. She would not be beaten.

'I'm not a victim.'

Slowly, surely, it cooled, faded, and she opened her eyes to pitch black. No. Darker, much darker. And she was afraid. Gulping, she whispered.

"Toby? … Please help me…" No answer. The power had gone out and she was stuck in place, but she had a feeling something worse was happening outside this contraption.

"It's so dark…"

'Breathe Jess you got this. Breathe. Breathe. I believe in us!'

Her arms weren't bound. If she could wriggle them out -

"Jessica!" She heard yelling.

"Toby!? I can't move!"

"I-m - it's-s got me!"

'Shit.'

She started flailing. 'I have to help myself.' 

Loud crashing was heard from above, the sound of a pot shattering as some scuffle occured.

'I have to get out!

And maybe it was the adrenaline, but she managed to push herself just enough to get out of the box. With muscles she didn't have, she bent in half, scratching at her legs to climb, and - 'Yes!' the shackles snapped off, and she tumbled to the floor with an "oof."

There was fresh wet blood sticking to the walls, which she ignored, pulling a loose pipe from the wall. She grabbed the ladder rungs, leaping up two at time, and rammed the hatch open. It was still thundering outside, cracks of lightning illuminating the disaster area of a room. She swiveled around, and almost missed it. It blended with the shadow of the corner. 

Concealed by it's form, was Toby, looking like he'd been run through a tumble dryer. It angrily squeezed his neck.

"HEY!" It's head snapped around unnaturally.

"Let go!" She fashioned the pipe at the monster.

Her throat itched, and with a cough she spoke in a double voice: 

" P l e a s e l e a v e."

The ghost violently spasmed as Toby pried it's hands from his neck, breaking free and rolling across the space.

"there will be blood" the voice it emitted hurt her ears. 

"Y o u r m e m o r i e s b e l o n g t o t h e l a k e n o w . L e a v e t h e m a l l b e h i n d ."

They raged more, fingers twitching and scratching at their bottomless eyes. It slammed it's head against the wall. Toby scuffled behind her, picking something off the ground.

"A l l t h a t y o u t o u c h, y o u c h a n g e ." It shrieked bloody murder, before an axe went flying at it. It fully dissipated before contact, weapon hitting the wall with a chink. It did not come back.

They stood there for a moment in the empty room.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" Toby yelled.

"... I'm ready to go now…" she mumbled.

"That was awesome!"

"I'm definitely ready to go now."

"It was totally afraid of you! What the hell did you do!?!" 

The sky still thundered black outside.

"We're - we're not safe yet. It's not over!"

This time they made it out the front door unabated.

They made for the tree line - but Toby skidded to a stop. "I - don't want t-ttoo go out th-ere."

"Well where should we go?" She heaved.

Something was crawling out of the lake, dragging itself on the dock.

"We have to go!" She pulled his arm. He snapped

"THERE IS NOWHERE TO GO!" The clearly pronounced yell surprised her. She backed up.

"There's-" His anger melted back into anxiety. "M-ore in the woods."

"We have a better chance out there then in a closed space. We can't stay!"

She reached her hand out in gesture. "Hey, you said it yourself right? Maybe they are afraid of me? Just stick with me."

He looked her in the eye, and received a smile. A nervous, tired, and dark smile, but reassuring just the same.

"...Ok." 

Chapter Text

They took off behind the mill, running through a thinner part of the woods. They could feel eyes watching but didn't stop. A hundred more yards, and they were running across a muddy, recently plowed field. 

"There's got to be -" she came to a stop "There has to be - a house or something nearby."

"Fuck that!" 

"Eh?" She heaved.

"Did it ever occur to you, I may or may not be on the FBI's most wanted list?" She couldn't make out the look behind the orange lens.

"Honestly … I kind of forgot about that part." She huffed.

There was a genuine chuckle coming from behind the mouth guard, "You really are weird."

For the moment, nothing dared leave the tree line, and Jessica finally remembered the fact she had no shoes.

"God I hope there's no rusty nails in this field…"

"Well there's a Rusty Lake." Toby cracked.

Jessica began laughing. Then Toby. Then it got to the point both were maniacally laughing in a muddy field in nowheres-ville - Just a bit more than what was considered normal.

"HA HAA" she caught her breath. "Holy shit - we're going insane." Toby replied, "A bit late for that…"

"I don't think they're coming after us out here… so we can keep walking or - just sit here until dawn, I guess." She thought out loud.

A hatchet was raised in the air, and she followed the end of it, pointing at the moon.

"Yeah, but what happens when that cloud comes over. Nothing … or something."

"Everything and anything." she sighed.

They continued walking, until they came along a pathway in the grassland, marked by stones.

She didn't want to complain, but it was frigid out in just the pj's. And her feet were getting blisters. And they were being followed by a man eating monsters. And they didn't know where they were. And this place seemingly defied every natural law. And she was walking next to … a serial killer.

She'd gotten that vibe the moment she saw him. She'd worked in gas stations night after night and always knew the look . Some were grave, but some tried to hide it with a gleeful lying smile. And maybe - while she didn't believe in that crap - she had some sort of 6th sense for danger. The "I've killed another human" look. Whether it be a murderer, a war vet, or an unfortunate accident - it all showed the same way in the face. But it did startle her - once when a small woman had come in, shyly bumbling up to the register with a pringles can and three gatorades - that in that shy smile, her eyes said "blood." You really don't know a person.

His obvious sadness threw her off. She had a fatal flaw of empathy for seeing people upset, regardless of who they were. Combined with the fact, this could all just be an extremely vivid dream, she was less fearful than she thought would be a normal reaction. But she darted back to those words "I may or may not be on an FBI's most wanted list." 

'What does that implicate … was it a joke? And if he's serious … What the hell did he do? What crimes do you have to commit to end up on that list?!?' She seriously had no ideas.

God … maybe … maybe she shouldn't be here? Her heart rate increased as she mulled it over - senses returning.

'I did have that really weird dream but...'

'Oh my god he could kill me at any second … I wouldn't be able to stop him. Oh god.'

"What's wrong?" She jumped.

"Nothing, just thinking about things."

They continued in silence.

"Hey … can I ask … if you uh … did kill someone, why?" She was terrified yet emboldened.

There was no answer, and they walked on.

"They made fun of me." It was barely audible and yet something screamed in the back of her head 'HALF TRUTH.'

"Oh …" she didn't want to push it further. This was both awkward and nerve-wracking. 

"So are you going to pretend to ignore it?" It was delivered with a sudden venom, and she could feel eyes burning through the orange lenses. 

"What?" 

"Everything's that's WRONG with me." He stopped now, and she froze.

"Are you going to try and PRETEND so you think I'll let you live!?!"

"I don't und-"

"No one understands!" Now she took a few steps back, as a glove dangerously thrummed the blade of the hatchet on his hip.

'Shit why can't I keep my fat mouth shut!' 

"You were going to try and trick me, weren't you!"

It was turning dangerous the longer she stayed. 'Tell him to calm down … no he'll just be angrier.'

"Trick you how!?!"

"To get away ."

"If I wanted to do that WHY would I be here!?!" 

"You tell me." The malice leaked out, but oddly enough, it seemed forced. Had he really switched like that or was he faking it? Something was wrong with him. Running sounds like a better option. 

So she noped the fuck out of there, so glad she took track and field in highschool . 

She didn't check to see if she was being followed, only flattened her feet as much as possible with each stride, springing forward. Get away from her e. Her soles were screaming at this point but she used that to fuel her adrenaline.

Soon she burst into another muddy field, and this time she could hear a pursuer. They hung back. 'He's waiting for me to get tired. Shit!' There were no words, no sounds except for footfalls and her breathing.

She didn't even pause at the tree line. This time, a sycamore forest. He was afraid of the woods earlier. Though, what was more dangerous, the woods or him? She wasn't sure, nor really cared at the moment.

She slipped into the fog of the woods and prayed it gave some semblance of cover. Many things occurred in the shadows around her, ears twitching at the noises.

The mist hid her, but also hid him .

But so far, nothing else jumped out at her from the edges of her vision.

That is until she ran smack into a suit.

She looked up to be met - not by a tall monster - but rather a normal man -

A normal man with the head of a crow 

"Good evening, madam." The crow man said, beak unmoving.

She screeched at the top of her lungs, taking off in the opposite direction.

She didn't hesitate when she came across a beheaded deer, nor a ghost hanging from a tree. How far did the woods go? How long could she run? ' How do I keep getting myself into these situations?'

There was a fallen tree, angling up … maybe…

She ran up the incline quickly scraping her feet and palms. But near the tree tops, it was dense enough. Just enough. She tucked herself into a nook. Bugs skittered around her and the dead bark - she gulped and stood still. While she couldn't be seen, she was also blind to the ground. 

He stepped and made no sound. She wondered how many times this had happened. Who sat in her place before? 

"You used me, tried to trick me!" Echoing through the woods nearby.

The next one came from below.

"Did you think you'd get away with it? How dare you!" 

Now he was just rambling nonsense! Or was he trying to get her to make noise? She stopped her breath. 

Yes - that was definitely a small hatchet, flying through the air, somehow breaking through a 3 foot thick trunk, and yes, she was definitely squealing as she fell. 

She landed awkwardly on her heel, and felt more than hear the snap. She bit down a hoarse cry. 

The whole canopy was falling around her. This was fucking rediculous. There was defying the laws of physics - but this was totally destroying them. 'Fuck it, Tall faceless men exist, this can happen too…"

Her ankle throbbed but it was going to hurt a lot more if she stayed. Toby wasn't visible. Still up in the trees somewhere.

"Get out of here." A voice pawed in the back of her mind. 

She couldn't bear any weight on the leg.

'Dammit Jessica come on!'

She hopped, using the thick brush for support.

"You're only making this worse …" Right behind her, in a forlorn yet looming voice. The blunt side of the weapon smacked her in the back, sending her over a hill.

She tumbled through the ivy, flying down the slope, landing in the muddy leaves unceremoniously at the bottom, just missing a boulder. Her heel screamed and she spit out a gross leaf.

"I'm so sorry..." A whisper, before her head was pulled back and the hatchet came down.

Ping! The hatchet bounced off to his surprise. And when he looked, he saw the fading of an opalescent sheen. ' what?' He didn't want to make eye contact but when he did -

It wasn't normal. He blinked and it was gone.

But now it was her turn to be angry. "HOW DARE YOU!" She landed a blow to the back of his elbow, and snatched her hair free. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS - SHIT!" She backed up, pointing a finger accusingly. "YEAH - YOU HEARD ME - MOTHER FUCKER - I DON'T CARE, I'LL SWEAR ALL I WANT!" This actually earned a look of confusion. "THIS KRALIE BULLSHIT - WASN'T IT ALEX WHO PUT YOU UP TO THIS SHIT HUH?!? YOU'RE TRYING TO TORTURE ME! I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU BUT I HATE THIS!" She dragged in a breath. "I'm so -- FRUSTRATED! With this teleporting, other worldly bullshit! AGH! WELL LISTEN HERE BASTARD, I won't be manipulated like this! I'm not some fucking toy!" She backed up against a tree, fingers in her hair.

"What the hell are you on about!?" Finally he spoke normally. 

"That faceless monster - that's what this all is! A game to him, and you've been sent to kill me, just like the others!"

"... Faceless … monster." His eyes blanked.

Wait.

They had already had this conversation. Back in the mill. Hadn't they? He'd already tried to kill her and he'd definitely seen the same beheaded deer from earlier.

'What am I doing?' Despite his best attempts, the raging adrenaline was beginning to drip away. 

"I don't think he sent me here…"

"W-what? He?"

"He … the monster you're talking about…" A full thud surprised them both, as he actually dropped the weapon. He stared at his open hand. Open and free. He … had - a choice . There was no order to kill. It was his decision right now.

"I don't think … he sent me to kill you…"

She stared.

"I - I don't even know how I got here! I just assumed… no I would've killed you by now if that was true…"

"I…"

"Do you see that!" He flexed his fingers. "I don't - have to kill you. Do you understand!? This has never happened!" He looked both elated and terrified. 

"I dddonn'ttt -" the stutters caught up to him and it was strong - " h havhave to do annnnuh thing. I'm -"

She took the chance, charging forward throwing the hatchets into the trees as hard as she could. He watched as they spun out in the leaves, and stared back at her. He almost appeared vulnerable. But she wouldn't flinch this time. ' I'm going to live!' She brought his head down on her knee, a blow directly to the nose.

"OW !" He roared out. He ripped the mask off his face. Blood began pouring from his nostril. He touched it lightly, hissing at the pain . ' This is pain. ' He kept poking at it. "Ouch!" He didn't mean to yell but it fell out. It was so unique, sharp and powerful.

"Whoa." His eyes crossed to stare at the purpling skin.

"Stop … touching it!" She yelled.

"But it feels weird…" he stuck a finger up his nose and twitched involuntarily, though not from a tic.

"Stop that! That's so - Gross!"

He didn't stop though, and kept tapping the spot.

"You're making it worse!"

"Does it feel like that for everyone!?!"

"Does what!?"

"Pain!"

"YES!" She switched from "I hate you" to "concerned mother" in a matter of seconds, and seized both of the hands away from his face.

"Stop."

He shrunk away at the closeness. 

"Leave it alone."

"Ok ." He quickly piped.

She grabbed the side of his head and wrenched it upward.

"Wh-what the helllll are y-you doing!?!"

"Making sure it's not broken, dumbass."

"Oh …"

She looked up his nostrils, only sidetracked momentarily by a rather large gash in the side of his face that she'd failed to notice. Satisfied she let go. "You're lucky." She stood awkwardly on the twisted ankle. "Look, I don't know what exactly happened back there, but if you try to kill me again, it will hurt a LOT more next time! You understand?"

"Yes mam." He was being scolded by a woman barely older than himself like he was in detention.

A strange animal made a strange noise in the strange woods somewhere.

"We need to go back to that path …"

She felt like shit. Her pajamas were totaled with mud and tears, and her skin bled from the scrapes and nevermind the broken ankle - her other foot was leaving a footprint and stung. All of that, and Toby only had a broken nose to show for it all. 'Should've hit him a few more times…' She grumbled.

A step forward and she wanted to scream, cringing at the raw skin on dead leaves.

Toby stood there, twiddling his thumbs and trying to bite his fingers nervously through his gloves, and then wandered off, collecting his stuff and putting it away. He returned, refusing to meet her seething gaze.

"I could carry you." He blurted out.

"Are you doing that to be nice or attempting to make up for trying to cut my neck open?"

"... Yes."

"Fine."

They were about the same size, and she feared maybe it would be too much, but she was hoisted up suddenly without trouble, the world's most unconventional piggyback ride. Which was really weird being an adult. But certainly not the weirdest thing today. 

Toby eagerly made his way away from the forest. The night seemed to be going on forever.

What if it happens again …"

"If what happens?"

"Like I go … try to … h-hurt you again … like the first two times…"

"Wait that happened - I thought I was dreaming."

"I don't know, you did look like you were talking in your sleep."

She burst into a dark laugh. "I guess I have a sixth sense for this kinda thing then. I don't remember much of it actually…"

"Oh …" He murmured off, dropping the question.

"I have to ask, How did you cut the tree up like that?" 

"Oh … I don't know … I guess I get really strong from the adrenaline."

"Yeah - nobody gets THAT strong. Hell your hatchets should've snapped in half."

"Well I guess I don't know then … I never questioned it." She snickered. 

"You might be a superhuman and you didn't notice it? What did you walk out of Area 51 or something?"

"I wish!" He suddenly straightened, and she almost fell backwards.

"That would be so fucking cool!" 

"Maybe."

"How did you do that weird thing with your skin?"

"Eh?"

"Your skin, it was all rainbow-y and stuff, and shit just bounced off!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about…"

"Really? You didn't notice!?!" He looked over his shoulder.

"You got these crazy eyes and all that stuff!"

"Still no clue."

"Hmmm…. Guess we both don't know why." And the subject was dropped.

Her leg muscles still strained when she hung from the ceiling. 

"This sucks…" she sighed.

"If … if it makes you feel better umm you're like the second to beat me…"

"Not really." 

It was silent for a few minutes.

"Who was the first." She inquired, despite learning earlier that asking history questions was extremely dangerous. Though - he answered without a hitch.

"Some guy in the forest with a mask. Dude was kinda fucked up though. Cool mask though. Creepy."

"I've had enough of masked people for a lifetime." She mumbled.

"Yeah, he mentioned … you know. It. Too."

"You mean the faceless man."

"Yeah … I don't know what you call him but I used t-to call h-him - that's not important."

"There's more people than I thought who got mixed up with that thing."

"Mixed up?"

"Yeah … I'm not sure exactly how it works but … everytime it got close, things turned for the worse. Like suddenly, everybody's trying to kill each other."

"He said something similar … actually … I'm really glad he said something. I'd still be-"

"Possessed? Killing people? Running around the woods in the middle of the night?"

"Yeah … basically. I don't know … it didn't feel that way until I ran into that guy. It's still weird to me. Like I woke up from a long nap. You get what I mean?"

"Too well." They stayed silent another minute.

"It's embarrassing…"

"Don't worry about it right now. Wait till we're actually somewhat safe. Then you can contemplate all you want.

"You know now that I'm thinking about it, He did mention this Alex guy." 

Jessica's brain loaded.

"What did this guy look like?"

"Uh .. idk just a dude. Dark hair, dark eyes, oh yeah and these sideburns too-"

"YOU TRIED TO KILL TIM!?!" She slapped him on the forehead.

"OW WTF!"

"THAT'S MY FRIEND IDIOT!" She pulled on his face in anger.

"Oh he's your friend? Das kewl."

"I'M STILL MAD!" 

"Hey -"

"What!?"

"There's a light coming from those rocks…"

Indeed, as they approached, they weaved into a maze of boulders, getting closer to the soft light.

Jessica looked up to see a ghost resembling a giant badger looming above.

"Look out!" 

It swiped at them, leaving claw marks in the rock behind. They were moving really fast now and she held on for dear life. They reached a small space in the rocks, where the light emanated.

"Oh hell no I'm not-" but she was already being thrown down the tiny gap.

Just in time too, before a clawed hand swiped right behind Toby, as they tumbled down the crevice, and rolled to a stop in a much larger space.

It was a small cave, though, furnished to the nines with antique furniture and books. While a scone on the wall burned, there was a thick layer of dust on everything.

Shadows of ghosts danced over the ceiling of the cave, scaring Jessica for a moment, but they were nothing more than shadows. 

"It kinda looks like someone's weird office." At the far end of the cave, there formed a wall blocking the rest of the way, lacquered in old red wallpaper. In the middle, was an old style lift, enclosed in a metal ivy cage.

"Think it still works?" Toby murmured. It looked like it had been used recently, unlike the rest of the room. Jessica sat against the wall nursing her foot.

"I don't know." 

A pounding noise, and they both noticed a solid metal gate embedded in one wall.

"I don't think we can stay…"

"But we can't go back the way we came."

They both stared, but each impact shook the cave ceiling, stalactites threatening to break and fall.

It was thrown open to a bunch of shadowy ghosts, outlined by a bright pool of water. 'So that's what caused the shadows …'

The hatchets were already dropped from their holster and she watched Toby hack one in half without delay. 

Supported by the wall, she stood on one foot, staring down one of the ghosts.

'Maybe … I can scare it away like earlier?'

She didn't feel that same twinge of bravery like before - neither did the thing. Her voice was lost. It's shadow danced across the cave wall, a man with the head of a boar. Maybe even angrier than the last ghost. Though - she could swear it seemed to be angry at Toby more than herself. 

Time froze, It made direct contact with her, despite the lack of eyes.

"one of us. your place is already taken." Each syllable was followed by a hiccup … like it was struggling to speak that way.

"What?" 

"One of us." They pointed at a mirror behind her, and she looked. It was only her reflection. But a small - something, fuzzed on the front of it.

Someone was yelling at her far off, but she reached out to poke the strange dot.

The mirror burst into shards, and those shards reflected herself, engrossed in darkness. 'It's … me.'

She was pulled out of the trance - literally and shoved into the now open elevator.

She spammed the button as Toby slammed the cage door shut. They were crammed safely in the elevator, leaving the ghosts behind with one final glare and descending into darkness on a rickety pulley.

Where? They didn't know.

Chapter Text

Flashback

(Jay)

He was in hell - certain of it. How many days had it been this time? This was worse. This was so much worse. He was waking achingly cold with that mask frozen to his skin painfully tight.

Did he eat or sleep during the times he couldn't remember? All he knew - at each point he awoke, the wound in his side was a lottery . Sometimes fine, other times - it ached so much he couldn't breathe. 

What the fuck did it want from him, being thrown again and again through the ringer by the operator. It had gotten in his brain at some point ... or another. Was this Alex? Was this … Alex?

He was practically screaming for sleep - and when it came, there was no relief. Slow agony.

His heart ached for anyone to speak too. Before, every time he'd awoken, he'd tried to drag himself to find Tim.

One time it was being poked by a homeless man on the side of an interstate.

Once he was in the back of a cop car and when he woke up again he wasn't - he didn't want to know how he escaped. 

Another, on the roof of an abandoned blockbuster which had a distinct odor of formaldehyde. No idea about that one.

He actually made it. Once. Tim's front lawn. Waking up when he tripped stepping up the curb (the bullet wound was particularly bad) busting his knee on the concrete and falling back into the street. Soaked in a puddle that had collected around a storm drain.

-

Whatever was left of it. 

Of course it had been burned down.

Just his luck. 

Ash and a few straggling beams of concrete and plywood, and a giant blue dumpster out front. Tch -  Like Tim was going to clean it up or something.

Why would Tim stick around? There was nothing to tie him here anymore. The last thing he remembers of that encounter is backing into a car so hard the alarm went off.

It was early spring he believes,

Yes, it had to be. Because he woke up to muddy ground, purple and yellow flowers peaking their heads out.

It was spring,

When the man in tan returned.

Jay stumbled around like a drunkard - the other didn't hear him - barreling into him so he couldn't escape and finally ripped the damned hood from their face.

He didn't know them. Or maybe he did. He couldn't tell anymore.

" W H A T I S W R O N G W I T H M E !?"

And they looked terrified - then anger -

 mouthing "Jay" in disbelief.

"You did this to me! Why! What did I ever do to you!" He screeched like a banshee.

"You could've gone after anyone! You could've killed Alex yourself! Why me!" 

His nails dug through the gloves into the man's wrists.

"Why." He cried, shaking.

"Why did you want to kill me … please, please tell me."

Before an answer formed, he glitched back to the mangrove swamps. Leaving Jay alone.

And it was back to the mask. 

Stuck in the back of his skull , looking out at the world.

---

It had been maybe an hour of respite before Jay fell asleep and Alnnasik took hold.

Even after all this time, getting used to awakening in a new body was difficult. His eyes darted up to see Alqamar. Three - two -

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!" Alna shrieked.

He jumped back "..."

"RUNNING AROUND ON EARTH FOR 2 DECADES AND SAYING NOTHING!?! YOU DIDN'T EVEN CALL!"

"It's not my fault everyone was late!" Alqamar defended.

Brian stirred awake watching an unmasked Jay and Masked Tim chattering in the strange number-dot language again. Probably nothing important. Still kinda funny though.

"BUT IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT FOR GOING OFF ON YOUR OWN! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WAIT FOR THE OTHERS TO WAKE UP!" 

"YEAH WELL I WASN'T REALLY GIVEN A CHOICE! IT WASN'T EXACTLY SAFE LANDINGS YOU KNOW."

"AT LEAST EAD TRIED TO WAKE EVERYONE UP! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING!?!"

"HEY I COULDN'T CONTROL THAT, THIS MAN IS AN IMPUDENT BRAT WHO DOESN'T WANT TO DO ANYTHING I WANT TOO! HE KNOCKED ME OUT HALF THE TIME WITH THOSE PILLS!"

"OH OH, AND LET ME GUESS, DESPITE SPEAKING ENGLISH YOU NEVER TALKED TO HIM?"

"..."

"YOU THINK HE WAS JUST GOING TO GO ALONG WITH IT!?!"

"EAD'S DID! THEY GET ALONG GREAT!"

"BECAUSE EAD'S NOT AN ASSHOLE!"

"TAKE THAT BACK! EAD'S A HUGE ASSHOLE!"

"NO YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!"

"SO ARE YOU!"

"NOT AS BIG AS YOU!"

Thinking about it, the two sounded like really angry cats.

"BESIDES!" Alqamar broke the back and forth. "I DID CALL."

"Oh - really ?" Skeptically, but at least he stopped yelling.

Brian thought the other would've taken over for this, but he seemed to be cowering now. Oh well. He was content eating his berries and watching this couple's quarrel play out.

They were interrupted by Brian suddenly running to throw up in a corner.

"Did Jay not warn him about the berries? Foolish fool."

"I did call. And before you say anything! Not just once or twice - I did for years! I called out and all I got in response was Harut on my ass. No one came … no one."

"What about Eadala?"

"He finally did show up but … by then I couldn't do much. I already got smacked upside the head enough, and the human proved stronger than he looked."

Alnnasik watched him silently.

"I don't think I got anything much done… I can't even remember half the times I was awake. Najima was there once - but then he was defeated. And then Ead just kept trying to provoke all of the humans to stir to action … we got Aietidal's human out of the way but-" He growled "-The Tim hid her from me."

"A-and then The Jay died - and Ead disappeared after trying to provoke The Tim one more time- and Aietidal wasn't there and and … I thought you all left..."

He hid his face, despite that it was a fake.

Alna made an odd facial expression and leaped at him.

"MY PRECIOUS I'M SO SORRY!" He weeped, peppering kisses all over the mask - 'Some human thing I guess.' Alqamar thought.

"I WOULD NEVER LEAVE YOU MY ANGEL! I'M SO SO SORRY!" He was sheepish - but admittedly liked the attention.

"Oh my sweet sweet baby I missed you so much~" He said, coddling him. 

"You missed me?"

"Of course I did! That's a stupid question! You're stupid!" Alna buried his face into his shoulder.

"stooooooop."

"No."

"Hmph."

He was being kissed all over and finally found the skull mask and shoved it on Alna's face.

"It's so weirrrddddddd!"

"No it's not! It's adorable!"

"Humans are gross!"

"Ok that might be true…"

Brian came back from cleaning his mouth to find they had seemingly settled their dispute and we're cuddling together like two love birds. He snorted walking by thinking, ' Gee, get a room.' He was then caught by the arm in an iron grip and pulled into a snuggle pile like he was being drowned in a plastic ball pit.

Chapter Text

Flashback

(Brian)

It had been a few months. Everything was coming to a close. Atleast, Brian thought. He held onto the thin thread of hope that the one in his head meant good. They'd come to a slight mutual understanding - they were trying to get the best for everyone. However, Their methodology vastly differed.

He thinks his brain is split down the center, and with every given year the line blurred more and more, the less he recognized of "Brian". Slowly becoming morphed with an entity he didn't entirely comprehend.

It was - loosely put - sadistic - had a sadistic way of getting what it wanted. Emotionally pushing people to the edge of sanity, but he wasn't sure what for. 

He always watched as it antagonized Tim, trying to coax him into becoming whatever that was behind the mask. 

But what he failed to understand - was the others. Why bother Jay? Alex? Why poke at the itching beast? 

Was it really just entertainment? But no, it didn't feel like that. 

Ache. That's mostly what it was. Wanting to turn back around and acknowledge the presence of his once friends, but the being issued him on. 

Planning planning planning planning.

And he took the blame. 

Jay was dead before he knew it.

 Tim was going to kill him.

But Alex still needed to be stopped. He wondered what it all was really worth to this thing. 

He had wounds that would appear on his body - worsen with time, until he warped to a mangrove bog of festering mud and rotting roots. This healed the pain, but this place wasn't safe either. 

Ever since that monster damaged his throat, this place was corrupted as well. The ground would cave or burst into flame - no safe haven.

Like a seal coming up to breathe - but risking the savage jaws of a polar bear.

There is no safe haven.

He learned to live with the fact that he was never, ever sheltered. While he slept, ate, breathed.

But he didn't have much of a choice anyway. This ghost had long since overtaken his shell.

He didn't care.

That's what he repeated. Not when Jay died, not when all of his friends were trying to kill him. He didn't care.

But he is a liar.

The wound in his chest was already festering when he was tackled. 'Shit!' Who had snuck up on him? The cloth was seized and pulled. Even he didn't know what he looked like now. He didn't smile though. No - not at this. 

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!?"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

" WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!?"

One face.

Two voices. 

Jay and -

'No'

He tried to force the name forth but - per usual - nothing came.

"You did this to me! Why! What did I ever do to you!" 

Worded like questions - but they were not, only venom and gnashing teeth.

"You could've gone after anyone! You could've killed Alex yourself! Why me!" 

Flesh and keratin nails dug into his sleeve.

'So close-'

"Why." He shivered.

"Why did you want to kill me … please, please tell me." But how is he supposed to answer something that isn't a question?

Well, the other wasn't going to answer it either - and in collective shock - ported away to the big, leaving Jay there in the old concrete jungle.

He didn't see this form of Jay again.

Not on earth - anyways.

---

Jay was walking back and forth mulling over the map, whispering what they could only imagine to be rocket equations. Tim had woken up to this - and after an hour - still doing so. Instead of interrupting, he just … watched. Sitting under the shade of the vines, feeling exhausted already. Brian walked over, in a sleeveless shirt, carrying two heavy pails.  

"Does … does he do this regularly?" Brian nodded.

Step by step, they were attempting to repair a broken friendship, suffering years of turmoil. At least he wasn't running away this time.

"So … why the cryptic stuff all these years?" He might as well just put it straight out there.

Brian sat down next to him. Thinking. Tim let him.

" You are you, but who are you?" He finally rasped out, and held a finger up, walking over to the van, and returned with crumpled yellow paper, a rusted pen, and - his breath caught - the masks.

He wrote "me". Then drawing an arrow. "It" and shook the frowny face - which Tim saw now was literally just an old black tank top. 

He pointed at Tim - then the mask.

'We're possessed.' he wrote.

"Wah- what does that mean?"

Brian underlined the sentence.

"By what?"

Brian shrugged.

'They don't like ⨂.'

"Wait - does that mean you're just like me?"

'Yes and no.'

He drew a straight line between "me" and a sad face.

'Two halves.'

Next to that: 'you' - 'it' and then he furiously scribbled between the two.

'Muffled.' 

"Let me … make sure I'm getting this right. We are … we're not crazy - exactly. But we're "possessed" by "something" - Which I doubt I'd believe if I hadn't seen a tall faceless man." Brian nodded yes.

"And you are … you're - compatible?" Brian smiled nodding further.

"And … I'm not?" 

'That's the gist.' 

"Jesus." He was silent for a few minutes, processing the indescribable information. Possessed? Really? Is that … the cause of his symptoms - or just some? How far did this thing go?

"So you are - and I am … does he know?" 

'yes and no'

"And he's … the one with the skull mask."

'yes'

"Does he know?"

Brian stared at the ground before shrugging. And then wrote.

'He tried to ask but turned halfway through. I think his other side is keeping it a secret? I don't know.'

"...But why would it do that?"

'power'

"What?"

Dark eyes flicked back and forth watching Brian write.

'He's scary. Don't know what they are. Not human. Not ghosts. Not fake. Jay's is a trickster. Be careful.'

"Alright … I'll keep an eye on him..." He rested his chin on his fist.

"You know what I really wanna know though?" He asked, attempting to lighten the mood.  Brian looked at him confused.

"Why is there a 1987 Cargo Van, washed up on a beach, no damage whatsoever, with an automatic lock, despite the fact there's no battery in that thing - I checked." Brian snickered.

'Not the weirdest thing here. Going to get worse.'

"Great. When doesn't it."

He rubbed the scruff on his face groaning "God, I haven't had a cigarette in like … 48 hours." 

Brian gave him a thumbs up.

"It's not good, I'm going crazy."

Brian gave him another thumbs up.

They enjoyed this silent companionship for a while, as Brian churned a bucket of clothes.

"How … how do I talk to Jay?" Brian quirked his head.

"I just, I mean he's … like - different. He isn't that same … you know - Jay."

"I mean he's still Jay but … stronger? I don't know - more alive?"

Brian gave him a shit eating grin.

"What … what?!"

He then gave him three eyebrow raises and a bunch of winks and Tim still had no idea what the fuck he was getting at.

'Somebody's got a crushhhhhhhhh-'

"What are we teenage girls?"

Brian wrote 'yes'. 

"I do not."

'How far has lying got you before Timothy?' 

Oof. Ok that one hurt.

"Ok fine. I -" God how was he going to speak without tripping over every word. His hand scratched at the back of his neck. He couldn't make eye contact and finally bumbled out -

"I guess I kinda like him and I don't know if he would even feel the same like with all that we've been through and what if I screw up or something even before I thought about it but there wasn't really ever a good time and oh my god I literally tied him up in my house and he -" The last part was still a fresh wound. 

"He died." It was just now sinking in. He died . He was dead. Tim was upset of course but he refused to think about what that meant. He was gone. And Brian was gone. Alex was gone. And this was all probably some wonderful dream he'd wake up from. 

' No, god no, please don't let this be a dream … I can't handle that. I can't wake up.'  

"I don't know how to talk to him about … stuff. Not anymore." He sighed. "What's wrong with me…"

Finally daring to look up, he saw Brian staring at him with an annoyed expression.

"What?" 

He rage-scribbled on the paper.

'WE ARE LITERALLY LUCKY TO BE ALIVE WHO CARES JUST GO FOR IT - I DID!!!' He circles "I did" aggressively.

'WHAT IS THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN HE'S OUR FRIEND!"

"I'm not going to just go for it! I've never even held hands with someone! Oh my god what if he tries to kiss me. Is that even possible. What do I do?" He kept rambling to himself like this, embarrassed that he was acting like some poor highschooler.i

Brian rolled his eyes, and clapped his head between his hands and planted a chaste kiss right on Tim's lips, before his brain could buffer, Brian turned him around and shoved him toward Jay. He stared back around at Brian who threatened him - swiping his fingers in front of his throat.

He did his best to casually shuffle over, trying not to appear as tense as he was.

"Uh hey Jay."

"Hey Tim, what's up?"

"Uh nothing nothing… what are you doing?"

"Well, I'm trying to decide this stuff, I think it's binary translated into Morse code but I can't figure out if it's 256 bit or 64 or" blah blah blah blah blah. Tim was staring at Jay and realized he'd become absolutely smitten with him. He looked so happy trailing over his code.

He snapped back to attention when Jay asked "So do you need anything?" 

"Umm." He resisted the urge to hide behind his hand again.

"No just uh … wanted to say uhhhhhhh -" his brain decided to die right then and there.

"You have nice … skin. Yes."

"… thanks?"

"Bye!" And he noped the fuck out.

"I told him he had nice skin! Who does that!" He yelled. He bit down on his fingernails. 

"Oh my god I'm an idiottttt."

Brian was dying, falling over and slapping the sand with silent laughter. It was like Tim had reverted to some poor middle schooler.

The next thing he saw, turning back, was that Jay had wandered into the ocean

"What is he doing now!?" Jay was swimming out rather far. Brian shrugged.

"Isn't that dangerous!?" 

'He'll be alright.'

He believed Brian - but he also didn't.

He stood on the shoreline increasingly anxious, but refusing to step in. He'd had the same outfit on for 48 hours now - and wasn't too keen on ruining his only clothes in the salty ocean.

After the longest half hour of his life, Jay came splashing out of the water in nothing but his boxers and Tim looked away in his own shame - though he wouldn't admit that his eyes flicked over a few times. Jay had gotten a lot tanner being here. ' Stop it Tim!'

"I GOT" - spitting water - "I GOT A KEY!" Surprising Tim as Jay jingled it faintly.

"But … to what?"

"I don't know, I'll figure it out though!"

Then Jay did something peculiar - moving his hands - almost like …

Brian responded and they went back and forth like this.

"I didn't know you knew sign language Jay."

"Hmm? I don't."

"What are you doing with your hands?"

"Speaking in hand language."

Tim pinched his nose, sighing. 

"Whatever."

"It think if I match this key up to the coordinates I found it at I can translate that into code and then blah blah blah-" 

Brian dumped a bucket of water on Tim, pinching his nose, and threw a pair of clean-ish brown scrubs at his face.

Tim had his hands full.

Chapter Text

He gnawed on something - meat desecrated on a stick, and was buried to the nose in papers. They had been under the ocean, and he worked carefully to flatten and dry them without tearing the old parchment, blowing around under their respective rocks in the breeze. 

He was engrossed - not even realizing he'd started chewing on the stick. The orange blob was sinking into the ocean, and he worked by firelight, not tired in the least. 

He'd hold these mysterious "maps" to the light and then scrawl in the sand with a long stick - almost dancing like a madman. 

It didn't seem like ToTheArk code, harder to spot and to the normal eye it was just a map. But seeing past the disguise, decoding was a lot easier. More sensical and coherent.

Someone else wrote these with intention. But why buried so far under the surf? 

This is what he'd been doing to distract himself the past few days. He knew they had things to talk about and rather than face it, he was going with "avoid at all costs." 

Truth be told, he'd driven his anxiety to an all time high with hypothetical questions the others could possibly ask him like "How are we going to get home?" "How long are we going to be stuck here?" And "What's going on?" Because he had no idea of those answers and to be honest - he didn't want to go back. Probably couldn't go back.  This was much more pleasant. Being preoccupied with mysteries in an environment he knew that thing or Alex was going to come marching in.

And then there was the mask. Terrifying. He figured he didn't want to know about that - how sick he'd gotten. 

Besides … the ocean blurred those thoughts away. Maybe he was becoming a mermaid? He chuffed at that.

"Hey Jay - need any help?" Tim had practically snuck up on him and he jumped.

"Oh! No! I'm good."

"Well, I mean, you've been at this all day - have you figured out anything?"

"I'm working on it."

"Oh … maybe if you had help you could get more done? And actually get some sleep?"

Honestly...right now he didn't want this. He was so close to the water, to silence and coral reefs and ignoring his emotions .

"No I'm fine. I'm going out right now."

"Jay it's night time - isn't the water cold?"

"No." He was already wading out - fearing Tim might grab him.

"Umm … ok … be careful…"

He plunged under the water, and kicked out far enough that no one could hollar at him before resurfacing.

The reef was beautiful at night. Glowing, colorful, alive. Like a city under the water. He wanted to see how far he could get out, maybe even find the edge. He focused his course on the sun, eaten up by the horizon line.

Time didn't exist out here. Only fish and dolphins, coral and kelp, shipwrecks and treasures. Every color in the universe was barfed like a Picasso and it was gorgeous.

He did think about Tim though. About Brian and the masked men. They seemed to like him … but Tim. 

'What if he's pretending?' The thought intruded. 'What if he's just being nice to get along well. What if he actually hates me. Oh my god he has to hate me! Is he really just acting? What if he had been misinterpreting everything? Maybe he does mean it… no no he's probably just trying to be good and put up with me because we're stuck on an island! Oh my god oh my god oh my god.'

Something poked out in the endless starry void, stealing away his attention. Approaching it revealed a small wooden dock with a roof, settled on a sandbar. In the middle of nowhere.

"Prrrrrrttttt." He nearly gasped in water. Looking down at him from the dock - with large yellow eyes - was a black cat.

"Uh … hi there kitty. Whatcha doing out here all alone?" 

"Mrow!" They took a flying leap into water and swam up to him, and dug it's claws into his scalp scrabbling up his head.

"Ouch ouch ouch ok ok ok." He picked the cat up and shifted onto his back, placing them down on his stomach. It was the best idea he had at the moment, not wanting to leave the cat alone. He carefully did a backstroke, and the cat stayed put.

"Ok fella - uh just hang on a little while ok?"

He returned towards the island.

---

Jay didn't look until he physically bumped into the sand, and the cat happily ran up onto the shore. When he stood it weaved in between his legs, protesting loudly, demanding.

He kneeled down to pet them - they continued their orders and lightly bit him.

"Ok ok I'll get you some food alright? Come on!" 

Returning to the beach campfire with a cat was certainly a surprise. Jay picked fish off the bone and through it to the feline. It didn't give two fucks about the other humans present. Fish was the number one priority for the critter.

Though after a bombardment of questions and three filets, it contently befriended Brian who virtually swooned over the baby.

As soon as that was taken care of, Jay was already back to the maps, having mostly dried by now.

Tim approached.

"Hey Jay? I think you should get some rest. It's been a long day - now you have two cats that want to snuggle up to you." Tim joked dryly. "One's a bit overgrown - right Brian." Brian stuck his tongue out and continued cooing over the fuzzball.

There was no reply. He kept scribbling. Fine. Direct action then.

He grabbed Jay's writing hand. "It's time to go to bed."

"No I'm almost done - I've just got a few more things and I know I'll have a break."

"Then let me and Brian take a look! It will go a lot faster with three instead of one."

"You don't HAVE to do anything I'll figure it out!"

"What, do you think I can't help?" Tim snapped - quietly so.

"No! No uh not that just -"

"Words Jay."

"It's just - you shouldn't have to do anything, I mean you didn't ask to be here."

"But I'm here already, I might as well…"

"Yeah but …" He hugged his arms to his chest. Such vulnerability in him made Tim wonder how the hell he punched this man in a parking lot.

Brian walked off into the trees with the cat, figuring they needed some privacy.

"Alright - why do you not want me to help?"

"It's not that I don't want your help, I just … I don't want to drag you into this again when you just got out! I can handle it - really!"

"Jay, there's obviously no "getting out". I realize that now after everything. The only way "out" is "through.'" Cliche, but true.

"But why should you have to get involved!?"

"I WANT to get involved, I don't want to stand to the side smoking nicotine and swallowing pills all day!"

He lowered his voice to stop shouting.

"I want. To. Help. You."

"BACKOFF!" His lips were suddenly pulled back baring his teeth. 'Alright … weird.' A moment later - a ringing echoed off the water and hurt Tim's head, clutching his ears. It faded as soon as it came and Jay didn't seem to particularly notice - ranting at Tim. At least the terrible volume was gone.

"-do you care!? I'm not your friend! And I'm certainly no replacement for Brian! I - I don't even understand how you're not pissed being around me, I would be!"

Tim's face wrenched in pain.

"You … didn't even think we were friends?"

"Why would I? it's my fault you're in this mess! Seriously! I should've just left you alone. I probably would've gotten the same amount of nothing done anyways."

"That's not-"

"Yes it is! I got nothing done but filming my feet for 4 years on a fricken YouTube channel no one watches! 

"What happened to documenting your experience? You said you wanted to help others with the videos. What happened to that!?"

"I was an idiot! A big dumb - fool!"

"No you're not, you're Jay! A big dumb idiot - who was doing all he could. That's how I see it!"

He rubbed a hand through his hair, exasperated. It took no genius to tell something was off with him. 

"Well you know Tim, I DID die! Maybe Jay is gone!"

Tim's heart jumped and he clutched a hand to his chest.

"... Don't say that … god please don't say that."

Seeing this, confliction played out on Jay's face before he blurted out: "I thought if I died, maybe you'd be a little sad - b-but you'd move on with your life!"

He breathed in harshly. "Why would you care soooooooo much over a guy who constantly screws things up! Oh my god Tim - you said I tried to stab you! You should be glad I was gone."  

Jay regretted saying that last part.

Now Tim understood why he was able to punch Jay that time.

"'Glad.'" His voice deepened in his chest. "I should be glad - Jay. " He growled.

'Uh oh.' Jay thought.

It was really taking all of Tim's restraint not to walk over and slap the dumb look off his face. 'Or kiss him.' 'No!' He mentally slapped himself in the face.

"Jay Jay Jay Jay Jay … he mumbled, bringing his nails to his mouth, staring at the ground -

"YOU WERE DEAD JAY! I-I-I COULDN'T HANDLE IT! I COULDN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT - EVERY SECOND OF EVERY DAY! YOU AND BRIAN AND ALEX WERE ALL DEAD! I HATED MYSELF!" He shouted, certain Brian heard that.

"O-oh…" Jay was bright red.

"Jay - in the most honest way a lying man can be … I will die if I watch you die again."

Quiet.

"R-really? Really … you care about me - that much." 

"Yes Jay." 

"Oh." 

Tears welled and he choked. Trying to hold back sorrow in his embarrassment. Tim walked forward, gently taking his arms before the man could fall over. 

"No one's … cared - not even my...  why? Why me?"

"Are you serious? Because you're you!" Tim almost laughed incredulously. 

"But I -" His eyes darted around.

"Shh~" He wrapped Jay in an embrace, rubbing his back. He strained for a moment, before bunching his nimble hands in Tim's shirt - tightly.

"What did I do for this?

"I … Jay. You're allowed to receive affection you know. You don't have to earn it. You can just - have it." 

"Oh."

He rocked him gently, calming him down, heart rate evening out.

"Let's go rest ok? You need some dinner too."

"Ok". He sniffed.

---

They sat around the fire inside the cave, a general air of mirth, eating as Brian signed stories at Jay who translated, but could barely finish through fits of laughter - Tim still hadn't figured out how he understood.

He was talking about the awkward musical night they had during Marble Hornets, remembering Alex saying "Guess what's battery powered." Jay snorted.

"Dude, even I was thinking there was no way he was going to have decent music. 

"Ah music, who needs it! Just buy a kazoo or something." Tim cracked.

Brian stood, swaying to an invisible beat and made his way over to Jay.

He pulled him up by the hands and began leading him around, dancing on the uneven floor.

How did Brian make it look so easy? As he bent Jay backwards with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face - all he needed was a rose between his teeth. He winked at Tim - knowing exactly what he was doing. 'Jerk.'

Jay was swooped back up giggling. There was no doubt Jay was shy - but he definitely wouldn't say no to any attention; practically bubbling over in it. 

He sat Jay back down and bowed, receiving a small applause from the man.

Then he plopped down next to Tim, waving his lashes. Tim rolled his eyes.

The two quietly talked - Brian was using Tim as a human pillow, face implanted into his shoulder blade.

"Wait" Jay stopped , "Earlier … you said Alex… does that mean…"

"Alex is dead." He said bluntly.

"He's … really…" 

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah … yeah just … it's weird you know."

"Trust me I know."

Jay broke the air, preventing impending silence.

"How did he … go?" 

"I don't want to lie too you anymore Jay."

"Ok."

His throat was thick, he couldn't meet those deep set eyes.

"I killed him."

"Oh."

"Well … first, you dissapeared and I went back to my house. He broke in - poured fricken gasoline all over the place, and lit it up with me inside. I got out but the house was totaled."

A small hand laid over his own which trembled in his lap.

"Then … we fought at Benedict Hall. He tried to shoot me and I-" he looked up -"I stabbed him in the neck with your knife … and then I blacked out, and left Alabama a week later…"

Jay rubbed his knuckles soothingly.

"So … you won." Jay looked him in the eye as he rubbed a hand down his neck.

"I don't really consider it much of a win…"

He was met with a calm smile.

"I knew you could it. I always had a feeling … Alex would probably get me … but you. I really hoped you'd make it Tim." His cheeks grew rosier in the crackling light.

"So Alex … he really, really did shoot you."

"Yeah, in my side. Hurt like a bitch. I don't remember anything after that."

Tim gulped, getting Jay's attention.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I -Can I see it?"

He glanced, but pulled the left corner of his shirt up to the rib. 

It was an angry pink and spotty, looking more like a burn wound.

"I know it's kinda gross."

He pressed a cool hand to his stomach, making it flinch away. 

"That's cold."

He lightly traced the marred skin there, soft brush of the thumb over small depressions. Jay shook softly, saying nothing, hand hiding his mouth.

"What's wrong?"   He pulled his fingers back.

"It - It tickles."

"PFFT!" Tim nearly spat, and bent over in warm laughter, scaring Brian and the cat awake.

Jay - he had never heard that sound before …

It was beautiful.

Chapter Text

(https://youtu.be/qFsc2ZB_C0U)

This morning, Jay shot up, estranged by an odd dream. But not out of fear. 

Within the minute, he had shed his clothes and dipped into the shockingly cold water - chasing the fantasy. He called and it answered. Without a ripple - he dispersed.

It really was a gorgeous dream. He had sat on the steps of a fountain, angelic voices singing, echoing with water droplets.

A beautiful man too. White hair and olive skin, standing over him at the top of the stairs.

"Keep precious things inside you … or you will lose them." The man said, kneeling to his height, handing him a large egg. A clock tower belled out, and he hid the egg under his dress. 

It cut to him sitting in a cave-like temple.

The man spoke again - "Since when have you been here? As many days as there are bottles?" Looking around the room - hundreds of glass orbs, reflecting a hundred faces back at him; He awakened upon realizing that he was not Jay, but a little girl, pale in skin with thick locks of white. And sad eyes. He thinks - he knows - they share the same eyes.

Back to the or sent, he was standing on a glass ocean. Staring once again at the dreary city. The sky looked the same as it had in the dream. The same blue stone and architecture. The wind. The only thing different - the noises of gulls that flew above.

His stomach wanted to turn back - and up. But whenever Jay feared a place … it was the right way to go.

The clear, cool water bubbled up his skin again, returning him to the island. The sun  was already past ten o'clock - and Tim was just about having an aneurysm at Jay's disappearance - Brian sat in the sand with a hand on his chin - cheek squishing all the way to his eye.

"Jay! Don't scare me like that!"

"I just went swimming, like I do everyday."

"Uh … yeah but …" He ran out of words.

"Besides I found something! Really important!"

 Brian perked up and walked over. 

'The city' He signed.

"Yeah, the city - I think I might know how to get us all there."

"City? What city?"

"I'm not sure what city but I've got an itch!" Jay was digging through, haphazardly packing things - before Brian stopped him.

"What?"

Brian picked up an axe, gesturing for him to follow … so he scooped up the maps.

"We're going now? What about food? What about-"

Brian shook his head.

"What do you mean now? I can't swim - how ever far! I still have no idea what you too are talking about." Tim protests - the only slightly rationale one left.

"I don't think we have to swim…" Brian was impatient, standing in the surf. Jay stood at the edge thinking.

"Let's see …" He grabbed onto Brian's hand.

"Here … let's try … hold on to my hand."

"Jay are you sure you didn't eat some really weird mushrooms?"

Jay nodded "Trust me." And well Tim couldn't argue with that. Taking one of Jay's hands, then Brian's, standing in a circle like some awkward seance.

"Just umm try to relax."

Awkward silence.

"Is something supposed to be happening?"

"Shh…"

Tim felt really really dizzy, stomach churning - but he focused how Jay said. He could still feel his feet in the murky sand - but he moved. He didn't open his eyes, even when his balance left and he splashed backwards. Unconscious.

"In such a hurry are we? Why don't you take a rest?"

He sat on a rock, above a swaying mass of statues, smiling at him warmly. They all had some minor differences, but came from the same mold.

"Mother. Mother. Mother." They all whispered, reaching for his arms and softly pulling him down, leaning forward - towards the water.

He was ready to be taken by them. His bones cold, heartbeat slowing.

A warm hand jostled him.

"Jay? It worked, I think. Jay? - We're here … wherever here is…"

"Wh wha where?"

"Earth to Jay?"

"Where did those people go?"

"It's just us Jay …"

"Oh …" 'Weird.'

"MEOW!" The cat stood up on the shore perfectly dry and grooming itself.

"You know what - I don't have the energy to question it anymore."

There was a loud ringing noise - the cat let out a prrt and ran towards the brick and mortar.

"Ok so who wants to be the first to suggest we investigate that sound?" Jay turned, practically jumping at the bit.

"We're gonna die…" Tim sighed.

Brian tugged both of their arms. Anxious to get going.

---

It was a steady incline up to the brick roads, each building an abandoned blue and gray color, rackety shutters and broken doors - desolate. Each step made a metallic echo, despite the solid ground.

"Should we check these places?"

Brian lead him on.

"Al-alright." Whatever. Brian was obviously desperate to move forward.

"Looks pretty abandoned - but by all horror movie logic, I get the distinct feeling we're being watched." Tim mumbled.

"I mean … look on the brightside, maybe there's showers?"

"Since when have you ever looked on the bright side."

"... Shut up." Jay grumbled. The ground rumbled. 

Wait. 

It was soft - but growing. The wind picked up, bringing a ghostly whisper to their ears, a screeching whistle, and the smell of … kerosene?

Jay swore the clouds thickened by the second.

The wind whipped and cooed. High and low. Pleasant and grating. Was it speaking to them?

"Oh yeah we're definitely in a horror movie now."

"Isn't that how half our lives have been?"

"No - it's mostly been like some shitty documentary, not a horror movie.

Brian was undetoured in course - until the wind made such a shrill beep they took cover.

Hush.

It was quiet - their mouths moved - silent. Colder than a graveyard. Voices stolen from their throats.

Shadows danced across the roof, as the fishermen filed by, chasing some invisible creature with their harpoons. 

Sound returned. 

"What the hell is that? Jay! What the fuck is that?" Tim cursed.

"Shh." Jay shoved a hand over his mouth, "I don't know, but I've seen them before, I don't think they're after us. Let's just … wait and see how this plays out."

"That has never gone well for any of us…"

Down the road, a silhouette broke the mist, walking towards them, dressed head to toe in a thick coat, huge boots hitting the pavement - 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Like a heartbeat.

The outline of a helmet dwarfs their own head.

Brian reacted with a shrill whistle, bearing his teeth. A warning?

"Jay I think we should go-"

"Wait. Hold on. Let them get closer."

"Why?"

"Shhhhhhh!"

"LT.2.#10" Em-blazened on the front of their headpiece, face covered over by a respirator, window painted like one of those old Kabuki fox masks. The rest of them - a dark gray suit - metallic in luster, reflective strips thickly covered in ash.

Thump. Thump. Thump .

With each step belts and straps ringing with each thud. The pulling of Velcro and sliding of fabric. Metal air tank and plastic halter clinking against one another. They held an awfully familiar axe, a pike head, like the one he had - right now that Brian had strapped under his hood.

"Hello?" Jay peeped, for his sleeve to be pulled - Brian to his left, antsy, with the black guise pulled over his mouth. 

Twenty feet away. He could hear the rhythmic puffing of the apparatus. They weren't slowing down and they certainly weren't talking.

"I think we should go…" But Tim was interrupted.

A loud wailing - an air raid siren - no no different than that. More like a tornado warning? Nevermind. The sound rang through the dead city like a banshee. It was loud enough to reverberate in their chest, down their feet, into the ground. Doom.

The figure stopped and turned around as the statues from earlier leapt down into the road. Some crumbled on impact, some missing limbs, and some were intact. They shuffled into a lousy line around the being. 

A white smoke leaked out from the lapels of the coat, out from the bottom, curling sinisterly to pool on the ground - liquid like in nature.

A terrible crack - SHICKKK - the slicing of ice.

His eyes barely caught it. Stopping inches from his face, a spike of clear blue. The liquid had solidified - exploded, shards destroying the statue and the building surrounding. A few more inches and they would've been caught too. 

He was breathless - "Run" - a whisper. They beligned for the alleyway, just missing a large metal pole impaling the concrete with a crack.

The alley was dark. No one followed - Not that they could hear over their heartr  Brian stopped, peering up at the cloudy sky - then - dragged them back, as a ladder shot down - trying to bracket them in. 

The trio returned to the road where "10" was waiting.

"Hey you! What do you -" But Brian had already pulled his weapon out and violently swung wide. Too wide, too open. They were much shorter than Brian, and with the helmet smashed him in the chin, disarming him at the same time. 

Brian wiped a bit of blood from his lip, cut on his teeth.

Now the enemy had two weapons - 

apparently having no trouble holding them both. 

A sharp whistle from above. 10 didn't make a move. 

Coming down behind them from the ladder, a taller one - clad in a similar uniform - except their helmet was polished white and silver. 

"What the hell is happening." Tim whispered as they backed up into the road, huddled together. 

The one in silver was signing something too the smaller, glass face shield also painted over with a unique kabuki style. It wasn't the same as sign language, but not horribly off. Still - none of them had any idea what was going on. 

Brian was absolutely fuming, like the very smell of them made him trigger-happy.

"Brian it's ok we'll think of something, just hold on." 

Tim noted the emblem, "CHF.#7 " ' Chief?' The one in white stepped forward, gently so, carefully reaching a gloved hand out. They bent their knees, trying to appear smaller - not really working with their added height and bulky gear. 

Jay turned watching the taller make contact with Tim - failing to see Brian moving.

A foot in front they stopped, Tim looked at the glove - their mask - back to the glove. 

"Are they …"

Tim reached his own arm out, slowly, for a handshake. Before the glove could meet him - A gross tearing noise was heard.

"Bri- No!" They whipped around to see Brian's sleeve sprayed in dark blood, '10' stumbled back, a gnarly gash cut all the way through into their chest - part of their coat was cleanly cut away and fell, revealing a woman's torso, red oozing into a white shirt.

Brian had no weapon. But before Jay could process the implications of that -

A flash of white - the tall one let out a deep, muffled shout, nailing Brian in the side, linebacking him into the adjacent building.

Brian snapped out of his strange funk, raw fear directed at the one dragging him up the wall by the jacket. The - he believed man - wailed into Brian, connecting gloved knuckles to his face in pure rage.

"HEY! GET OFF HIM!" Tim yelled, hesitant, then charged.  

Tim only made it to their jacket, before the female was up and tackling him to a dead lamppost - wound not bothering them any longer. She dispatched him quickly, kicking his knees out, and kicking him to the side.

"Stop! STOP!" He might as well be screaming underwater. 

Running boots echoed off the streets, closing in on them.

"JAY GO!" He didn't want to leave Tim, he found his feet obeying the order, and he fled into the concrete jungle.

He didn't go far. He couldn't abandon them. Not again.

He slipped a hand into his pocket - pulling the alluring plastic out, staring into its eyes.

"Hey … if you … if you're there … please, can you help me?"

He slipped it on.

Chapter Text

A pike pole in his face. Not the weirdest thing that's been there. At the other end - a being in - what he begrudgingly recognized - a fire suit. Because humans refused to let anything alone, not even fire. He admired 

"That's a rather unconventional weapon isn't it?" They cocked their head to the side.

"Kto ty? Ty v poryadke?" It was a muffled female voice.

"Why can't you all speak one language like a normal creature?" He sighed.

"Kto ty?!" They gestured the curved end at him. Only for him to grab it - pulling it to swing the person into the wall. However - they'd expected that, and the pike stabbed through his hand.

"SHIT!" He screamed. But now he at least had the pole, swinging to bash them - this time with supernatural force.

"Guess we are both a little less than human hmm?"

No response.

"Come on. I know I didn't hit you that hard." 

No response. Then -

He walked from the brick passages. Usually - he'd pay attention to whatever Jay was doing, but it was rather boring and tedious - he'd zonked out. Now he had no bloody idea where Jay had gotten himself.

A bit of dread did curl in his stomach though.

'Where are Tim and Brian?'

"He is a liar. " His feet glued to the pavement.

"What did you say?" 

"You smell of blood." He glided back over to the woman recovering from their crash into the wall.

"I'm listening."

The accent was heavy, English strained, but she managed enough.

"You are you - but who are you. Who are you."

"..."

"You - are not you." And they refused to speak further.

"I'll be the one to decide that." He continued his sweep.

He steps out into a street large, gray played brick, the metal ping resonating far below his limbs. That should've been a dead give away.

Choir bells ringing so beautifully, and the shaking sounds of rattling tambourines. But there is no recorder to play such things.

His eyes lock through the holes of the mask - staring at the rooftops, the running line of stone soldier after soldier. And the panic bubbles.

"What has happened?"

They always follow him around, obey his command - then, why were they already here? He didn't call them. He hadn't called them before either.

'Oh ho, I see how it is~'

With the switch - their loyalty laid upon none other than to Jay. Poor thing likely didn't realize it. They reacted to his feelings with the desperate need to protect . 

"Maybe I should pay attention a little more - apparently he's less boring than I thought…"

The odd music crescendoed as a wall of mist followed the next assailant, down the stony road.

They were approaching rapidly - dressed in antiquated fire gear. Longer coat than the woman from before, but their helmet - that was modern. How strange. They carried two hatchets, a pike head and flat. The way their confidentiality strides across brick spoke their intentions.

'Alrighty then. Let's play.'

The two meet at a point and circle one another like a deadly dance. This one is short, slower - but never the less dangerous.

Hand to hand now they locked together and pushed, seeing who would give first. He tried to amp up the pressure but they matched him too well. It was too strong for Alnassik to break through. Where was Alqamar when you needed him? He barely had time for the other that came barreling to their aid. 

4 arms vs 2 wasn't going to go well, so he fell back. 

This one in white stood taller than him, and charged forward to loop an arm under his shoulder. Accept their coat was newer, and he wriggled free of the plastic and soft fabric before they could get a grip.

The other was smart and took his leg, stealing his leverage from the ground. 'Now this is just embarrassing.' The limitations of such a small flesh and blood body.

"FIRE!" Harpoons rained from above and all around, forcing them to unhand him. Now the field was even. The spears stuck in the concrete, metal lines segregating him and the enemy. He pulled a bunch, tangling them - and with a great heave, he pulled their feet out from under them.

He stood on the ends of one harpoon, manipulating them all to pin the adversarys to the ground.

"Hmmph!"

Then he registered a terrible cold - his vision filled with white. He couldn't move. Fro zen.

Boom. Crack. Boom. Crack . SHATTER!

The ice and metal split into a thousand shards and fell away. 

The female was upon him, an unstoppable tank of a creature. They snatched his elbows, holding him up.

Deadlocked with the strange human, arms thick with the wool. While the other one, from behind, too slippery to grip with the fresh nomex cloth.

Well … he knew when he'd been beat. He went limp. Dead weight. Blegh.

This confused the assailants, who stopped their attack and lowered him. A glove prodded at the mask, but didn't remove it. The taller looked at the other, who shrugged - and then he was being hoisted over the man's shoulders.

'Oh … guess we're going on a trip then …'

They walked for a long while and finally the loud sirens had ceased. It was getting rather uncomfortable like this - but he refused resistance - wanting to figure out what the hell was going on. The two spoke in hands and nudged one another playfully.

'Siblings?'  

They reached a large epicenter, an empty roundabout with a huge fountain at the center, still running with water out of a stone fishes' mouth, surrounded by glass objects collecting the run-off. 

He was set down some feet away and the two backed up - waiting. The loud rumbling of an engine increased in volume as it got closer to their location, just as an old, thickly ash covered pumper came into view.

The truck came to a screeching halt, and the side doors were locked open.  A stretcher was pulled off the side - and strapped in were none other than Brian and Tim.

'At least they're safe.'

The unconscious two were carried two-by-two, (surprisingly) laid gently on the ground in front of him.

The fountain. The buildings. The sky. The smell. The old dusty uniforms and truck.

Now he knew exactly where he was.

An 'Oh fuck' moment, The human term for it. He really hadn't been looking forward to this - it was inevitable, but the longer he could put it off - the better.

Not a danger - no - an enormous annoyance.

"Alnnasik. " He froze. Speak of the devil.

"So I was right… fuhhhuu-HAHAHAHAHAHA! Well well well, I never thought I'd see the day. It's about fucking time you showed up."

"37 …" He turned.

"Don't worry - we'll handle introductions to your pals there ~ why don't you take a nap~"

"Yes … comandante." 

"Oh my god - call me anything like that again and I'm going to chop your head off and hide it somewhere highly inconvenient. I'M NOT THE CHIEF. YOU CALL HIM CHIEF!" They aggressively pointed at the man in white - who was embarrassed.

"NO ONE REPLACES THE CHIEF!"

"Yes … sorry sorry."

"Great."

---

Jay stirred to consciousness - getting a bit tired of this pattern. 'Guess this is how Tim feels.'

"HELLO-HELLO!" A loud muffled voice yelled out. He jumped up, shuffling back - running into Brian, still asleep.

He was greeted with a view of about ten firefighters standing around, some clean, some practically soaked with soot. And a truck that looked as if no one had hosed it down in years.

The closest to him, a short, albeit intimidating physique. They stood, knees bent, hand on one hip and the other with a strange metal rod  resting on their shoulder.

"37" The only identity they had. Unlike the others, they only wore a mask over their nose and mouth, all partially covered by a very tall collar.

Jay met the wild blue eyes, behind the tall collar. Oddly familiar blue eyes….

There was no time to process that.

"WELCOME TO THE HIMALAYAS! That's what they say right?"

Jay quivered a bit, gulping, and replied

"... That's a movie quote…"

"A fuckin what now? Nevermind - SO, didja think you could just waltz right on in here with your mini stone army?"

"My … what? The statues? I didn't … I didn't bring them." They were completely still - his heart girdled.

"Oh so bone face hasn't told you yet… Fucking idiot. Dammit … you know, you got us all excited and shit - we've been waiting for an emergency response forever! And we get-" they gestured at the three. "This. Talk about getting blue-balled for 25 years …"

Tim stirred.

"Mmm who's there?" Jay laid a hand on him.

"It's me Tim, Jay, are you alright?"

"Yeah … god I think someone knocked me in the head real good."

37 interjected, "HEY THAT WAS BECAUSE YOU WERE TRYING TO PUNCH MY LOVELY OFFICER AND THE CHIEF!"

Tim eyed incredulously at the - rather short - spitfire standing in front of the fountain.

"They started it."

"BALONEY!"

Tim rolled his eyes and grunted. Brian twitched.

"You know if you need it we've got EMS equipment." 

"I don't trust you." Jay mumbled.

"That's good! Hell I don't even trust myself! Sleeping one moment and robbing a best buy for a bunch of outdated fucking tapes the next! THE GOOD OLD DAYS! YAHOO!"

Brian fully awakened from all the yelling.

Historically, he always had an intense stare that would put anyone on the spot. It was rarely seen. A sort of partial smile but his eyes did not smile. They were shadowed, hollowed, yet alive all at once and it worked on people. If you tried to pass off an "I'm fine" you would get the look, and in moments you were babbling all of your secrets.

But this right now was worse . He hadn't ever seen Brian's eyes furrowed, giving a suspicion laiden appraisal of 37. He didn't trust them either. No one did. Not even themself. 37 didn't flinch, shining right back with wide eyes, a psychotic "I dare you" stare - begging for a fight.

They let out a slow chuckle.

"Oh this is going to be delightful."

Chapter Text

They'd descended for a while now, actually, Jessica had no idea if they were going up or down.

The silence of rails in the dark left a bit of frozen fear that a cable might snap on the old thing, but it did not.

Toby broke the silence. "Thinks it's gonna ever stop?" 

"Has to run out of room eventually…"

"I don't think this world cares about that stuff…"

The lift came to an abrupt stop, hands flailing out for balance.

Ding!

Light filtered through the cage door as it opened.

Jessica hobbled out first, looking both ways.

Was this ... like an … inn? It was dark outside, but the lobby was well lit.

She noticed the chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, was positioned upside down. The flames burned upside down as well … or was she upside down? She didn't know. The whole situation was a bit upside down.

"Good evening."

She hadn't noticed the person behind the counter, wiping glasses with a cloth. They strangely wore a crow mask … WAIT.

"It's you!" She pointed.

"It's rude to point at people you know."  The crow's beak didn't move, but the sound resonated in her head.

"S-sorry." Toby poked out from behind her, curiously eying the crow man.

"But yes, you are correct Ms. Locke." 

'Oh god he knows my name?'  

"Is this … a hotel?"

"Yes madam, Welcome to the Rusty Lake Hotel: Mental Health and Fishing."

She and Toby made eye contact.

"Uh umm do you … have any spare rooms?"

"You already have reservations - though I did expect you to arrive at least a little earlier in the day, dinner will be served soon, and it's formal wear only."

The bird head swiveled, one eye looking at both of them down with distaste.

"Already … reserved? But wait I - we didn't bring any formal wear or anything - I don't have money!"

"Relax dear, it's already paid for, I assure you. Do not fret - an outfit will be provided for you. Besides we can't have you tracking mud across the lobby."

She looked at Toby again, and whispered.

"This is weird."

"Yeah but … they have food … and I haven't eaten in months…" His stomach growled.

"Alright Alright."

"Your rooms are numbers seven and eight, up the right corridor on the second floor. The bell hob will take you there."

"Oh thanks but-"

They were already being ushered into another elevator car and taken up a floor by the bell hob. 

She was busied along to her own room, where a multitude of different people with animal heads scurried around. One with a cats face and a bonnet started measuring her up and down, another giving her a bathrobe and whisking away her muddy pajamas to some unknown location. She vaguely hears Toby yelling in protest from across the hall somewhere. Like a whirlwind, they came and went, leaving her in the room - still whiplashed.

There was a cracked door - she opened it to find a clawfoot tub already piping hot with a bath drawn.

"Ouch-" she hissed, slowly dipping the rubbed raw feet into the water, but once the weight was taken off, it was a hell of a lot better.

She nursed her foot, carefully washing the mud out of the fresh wounds.

Now it was quiet. She looked at the tile floor. The white walls. The vase with daffodils in the corner. She stuck her head under so that just her nose poked out, listening to the low rumblings of the water, like the soundbox of another world. Now that her guard was down, the heavy realization of everything that occured today hit her.

She nearly died - several times. She was stuck in a place that didn't even seem like earth or any other reality, and she was traveling around with a serial killer who was turning out to be not that bad - perhaps … misguided? 

It was terrifying. It was terrific . That thought was awful … but she was finally doing something … she almost died and now … she's alive. More alive then she ever would be delivering packages, struggling to make rent. 

Fuck . She really was going crazy … crazier. She didn't know what to do, what to feel, what to think.

So she cried. 

She learned, in her 18th year of life, that sometimes the only answer to a problem - was to cry.

 With the constant bombardment of humanity, opinion after opinion and all the fighting. Advice that didn't work. Advice she didn't ask for. It seemed her simple existence was an offense to some.

 So much noise, noise, noise. 

Was it too much to ask for, just to live? To live. To live.

She turned the internet off on her computer. It was alright. A few days. And then a call from a relative she detested, complaining about her not updating "Farmville." She had snapped her flip phone in half - then cried over that. She had pictures she enjoyed on it. And of course when her parents found out, there was yelling over that too. She'd gone to the grocery store just to escape it. To be alone with her thoughts among the produce and deli meats. The freezer section always was pleasant to cool a face raw from tears.

But sometimes thoughts are deadly. She abandoned the cart and walked out.

She drove around the countryside, and the agony began picking at her chest again. Her nails dug into the steering wheel as she tried to stifle tears. She ran a stop sign, and the moment she realized - blue and red lights appeared in the rearview mirror.

Cops meant bad things were going to happen. Cops meant a trip to the hospital.

Cops meant a stay overnight listening to the screamings of patients even more mental than herself. 

Cops meant being a depressed 16 year old again with nothing . Nothing but a victim. And she hated that so much. 

She stiffened against the wheel.

She remembered the horribly long wait in am all too small bed (though the food was surprisingly good).

Window going down, she stared at the tall corn stalks framed by a setting sun.

The slow patter of rubber soles on gravel, as they tread over - tapping the back of the car, before approaching further. They bumbled around oddly in the rearview mirror - literally - like a bumblebee.

"Evening mam', do you know why I pulled you over?" Their accent was stronger then her own and - morphed. 

'Lie. Lie. Lie.'

"I … I think I ran a stop sign."

"Yep, totally flew by it!"

For the life of her, she can't remember anything about them - not even she or he, face and voice always blurred out. Only one thing, their last name - "Orange", was distinct to her… or was it … Orangu? Arangul? Alranju? She was thinking about it too much.

"I - I've had a rough day." She didn't really want to divulge to a cop.

"Ah, one of those - that'll get you. Can I have your license and registration please?"

"Yes … they're in the glove box."

"That's fine you can get them."

She did so, passing a plastic baggy - hoping they contained the right papers, and the license in her wallet.

"Thank ya' manm." They walked backwards, and returned to their car.

Hey wait did they say mam or man? God their accent was weird.

It wasn't that long, but still horribly awkward. Thankfully no one drove by to see her. The last thing she needed was nosy neighbors telling her parents.

They returned so fast - she didn't notice the approach, and the sudden voice almost caused her to jump.

"So, if I may ask, what's got you in a tizzy?"

"Oh just … a lot of things…" her throat choked, and she sniffed back.

"Just a lot of things … all at once … I … I had an argument with my family…" That was the least way she could put it.

"Ah - family - great for the old noggin, am I right?" They said sarcastically. "I've been there kid … more times than I can count."

And she was afraid now that this person was going to go into a long ass rambling story about the "good old days." But they didn't. Just, stood there quietly - inconspicuously turning through blank notes.

'Ugh. They want me to keep talking don't they.'

Might as well, because a question had bubbled up to the forefront.

"Can … can I ask something?"

"Sure!" They smirked - nowadays she only sees white teeth through a tv-like static.

"How…" How to word this "How do you like … answer a question - that you don't know. Like a problem that, everyone has a different opinion on and they're all turning to you for some kind of answer and -" she through her palms up "-why the hell would they even ask you something like that, and, and, then NO MATTER what you answer, they chastise you for not knowing! They tell you to go 'get educated' But if you don't answer they call you a fence-sitter, and, and - then THEN when you ask for help from others everyone's got their own stupid answer for it! I don't know - what to believe anymore! I don't know what's right and wrong and APPARENTLY that's a fucking sin to everyone, like I have to pick a side like a football team. I'm so tired … Everyone sounds like an idiot honestly!" She let out a loud hiccup of air. "I'm sorry this isn't making any sense. I just don't … know what to do. I don't know…"

They bent forward, elbow on the window sill. Genuinely pondering the words.

Then, they looked distantly at something - yet nothing.

"My answer …" They took another long pause. Breathing a heavy sigh. Until-

"You cry… you just cry." Jessica stared at the fields past their elbow. They elaborated,

"We don't … really know how long we're going to be on this earth. Fighting gets old. Of course, I speak with a hypocrite's mouth. Everytime I know I should keep it shut around my folk, I always let something spill - and there goes the arguing." They smiled leaning on the side of the car. "No one has all the right answers - I know that's cliche, but it proves to be timeless. We're all good and we're all foul. So, sometimes the answer is just … you cry." They put a hand on the roof. "You'll get yourself worked up trying to find an answer that doesn't exist . Have a nice evening." They winked - and maybe then - she did remember one thing. She really wanted to say their eyes were orange, but it was likely just the name association, doubting they were walking around with contacts in.

She focused down at her lap as the tears welled forward, and fell. Silently draining. Soaking blue jeans. She hid in her hands and leaned against the steering wheel. 

'Wait they didn't hand my license back!' She looked around and - it was back in her wallet. Like it had never been touched. 

And when she finally had the courage to look back - they were gone. Car and all. Had they said something to her? She couldn't remember if she'd gotten a ticket or a warning. She even stepped out of the car momentarily, searching around. But it was getting dark, and while she wanted nothing more of her family, she was still glad to go home, to sleep in her bed under a roof. There was always that. She sang terribly to the radio tunes all the way home - never mentioning her brush with the law.

She would cry again a few weeks later. 

Thinking about the incident - she assumed it was all probably another hallucination. Everything had been a bit too weird about them. An unnatural air - not unsettling, like some alien.

Until out of the corner of her eye, lying on the kitchen counter - something called her to pick up the newspaper.

Former Police Officer Found Murdered. Suspect Still at Large.

And while she can't remember the face it was their face. Orange. A cap way too large for them, jubilant eyes and a bright buck-toothed smile on the front page printed in cheap ink. 

'How? Why? What? No.'

She fell to the tile floor screaming her lungs out. "FUCK!" Cursing at god, at life . Swearing and damning whatever being dared listen - to hell and back. She wasn't Christian in the slightest. Her parents had no idea why she was so stricken over a stranger. All Jessica could think was - 'They're real. And they're dead. They're dead.'

She hyperventilated - "We don't know how long we're going to be on this earth." Her throat tightened in that terrible way, the way where you wanted to shove your hand in your mouth because it hurt so much, like your body was trying to strangle you.

And god - even though she hated her parents - they still loved her. Despite all of their abhorrent misunderstandings and wrath - She wanted to throw up - they still loved her. So she clung around her mother - woefully sobbing into her shoulder. And she didn't say anything about it. Just patted her back in the oh-so parent way, the "I may not like you but you're still human" way. They never mentioned it again.

She couldn't tell her early college friends why she suddenly broke down when they said they wanted to murder a police officer whom they had a bad altercation with earlier. She couldn't. She knew the words they would say. The words they repeated before. "I don't give a fuck about your relative who's a cop." They weren't her relative, not even a friend or acquaintance. But that advice they gave her was … golden - someone finally understood . Some random ass stranger gets it. They fucking knew what the hell she was talking about. She knew she shouldn't bring her personal experience into this discussion. She knew she was overreacting when they swarmed her, asking her what was wrong, as she curled into the corner - face hidden in her lap. She knew they weren't referring to the same cop. She knew that when she burst from the room and left for the locker room. She knew they had their own reasons… she knew the system was fucked… she knew-she knew-she knew …

She knew nothing. She knew nothing but that stupid smile on the front page of the paper and thought 'God how many are there!?' She didn't know what the question meant.

And so she just cried. 

Because 

… 

sometimes all you can do is cry. 

And as it had subsided in the bathroom stall, the question finished itself. Only to be ever more so cryptic . 'How much blood will it take?'

"How much blood will it take…" she whispered now to herself over the surface of the bath. She thinks the water ripples back to her, "All of it."

She noticed the sore pads of her feet were feeling a lot better in the water - turned a bit rusty from the caked blood. She bent a knee back, with a plop of water, kneading her thumbs into the soles, finding the pruning actually helped to loosen her skin - making it less unbearable.

There were a bunch of lovely glass bottles of soaps and perfume - though she feared having to pay for it once they figured out no one ever made a reservation for them. So she only took enough to clean herself and scrape through her hair. Conditioner would have to wait. 

She got out, flexing her feet on the bathmat, testing the wounds. Not too bad.

A basket with old styled bandages and gauze were provided, and she wrapped them up well in the gauze. Her ankle still painfully throbbed. What to do about that…. She needed to get off of it - she swore it must've broken earlier - maybe not though - maybe, she prayed, it was just sprained.

And as if the room was reading her mind, a wooden crutch leaned against the wall.

"Well that's … suspiciously helpful…"

She came out to find another staff member, this time the head of a crane, laying out pieces of a dress. A dress which she couldn't decide was beautiful or gaudy. 'Don't laugh don't laugh DO NOT LAUGH JESS!'

The dress was … itchy - but at least fitted. Satin and wool too hot for this summer night, and the old deodorant and perfume obviously had no antiperspirant. She was dying.

"Is … is this really necessary?"

"Yes, the first dinner is always a celebration! We can't have you looking dreadful!"

The gown tightened in the back - but she was thankful it didn't have a corset. The neck-line came too low for her liking, bedazzled with sequins and gold lace - sleeves still too poofy in her opinion. She wanted to tear them off.

It was even worse with the gloves and pearls they insisted on her wearing - but at least they let her go barefoot, saying the dress was long for that purpose. She had to maneuver with the crutch so that she didn't step on the skirt and break her neck in a fall.

"Dinner will be ready in a quarter to the hour." 

"Alright. Thank you."

They left her to herself, and she found a mirror. She looked … good. Weird in a modern setting, but for whatever time period this was, it seemed fitting.

"Screw it - let's do this. I'm hungry."

She stepped into the hall.

Toby stood outside his door - arms crossed and angry, dressed in an old suit with tailcoats. He'd obviously messed with the collar several times - seamstress finally getting sick of rebuttoning it and just letting him wear it that way. His hair was groomed back but he kept ruffling it up, trying to get it to its original form. And he still wore the faceguard - though it seemed he lost the fight about the goggles.

"THEY MADE ME TAKE A BATH!" He looked genuinely ready to cry - but Jessica had picked up by now, that he was only really anxious when he stuttered. "Hey, teenagers are stinky!" She started walking down the hallway.

"I'M NOT A TEENAGER!" He whined.

"I don't knowwwww~" She moved faster, even with the crutch, their footsteps went pounding down the hallway - to hear a yell from below.

"HEY! CUT THAT RACKET! BUFFOON'S! MY WORD!"

They hid in a small offshoot of the corridor, nervously cackling, and then waited across the hall from one another by the elevator shaft.

She caught him awkwardly staring at her chest and coughed a bit. He pointed - "Why is your shirt square shaped?" She choked back a laugh.

"I don't know - It's just the style I guess…"

"But you can't like … hide anything in it?"

"Ha, that's not what it's meant for!"

"It's not practical…"

"Well I didn't choose to wear it."

"How are you supposed to run in a skirt!?"

"I - These dresses weren't made for running Toby."

"Oh … that's stupid." He turned walking down the hall, Jessica smiled and rolled her eyes.

"I mean … I guess you could hide stuff under the skirt …" she pulled, twisting it around between her thumb and index finger.

"... Yeah … hey! I bet you could hide a body under there!"

"Seriously ?" She deadpanned.

"Let me try!"

"Toby no! That's rude!"

"Why?"

"You don't … go under a person's skirt!"

"Oh … ok." He seemed unphased by the new knowledge.

The elevator came up again with the bellhop, and they squished in.

"Here we go again." Jessica joked.

---

"No masks at the dinner table!" Toby gave them a murderous glare from his seat and begrudgingly removed the thing.

"Sit up straight! We aren't barbarians!" Jessica through her shoulders back - Toby refused, until she poked at him to avoid further trouble. 

Oh god did he even know how to eat at a fancy dinner? Did she? Crap…

Soon the plates were delivered by butlers with frog heads - she tried not to stare at the huge bulging eyes. 

She learned the names of the guests fairly quickly - all corresponding with the animal head they dawned. Mr. Rabbit, a magician. Ms. Pheasant, a "famous" actress. Mr. Deer, a scientist. Mr. Boar, apparently here to help cure his opium addiction, and Mrs. Pigeon … who never really said what she was here for.

"You must simply have some of the wine, it's delicious!" Ms. Pheasant leaned a gloved hand on her shoulder.

She sipped at it - she was no "wine connoisseur" but it was alright.

Toby took a sip and spit it back in the glass…

"... Ummm … s-sorry …"

Most of the table laughed, much to his embarrassment. Jessica and Mr. Rabbit gave him a look of sympathy.

She began to cut the steaming meat as daintily as she could.

"This is really good! Compliments to the chef!" 

"Agreed!" The animals said in synchronization, clinking their glasses together in a toast.

"Can I ask what kind of meat this is?"

"Who cares if it's delicious." Grumbled Mr. Boar.

"Oh dear, that's your salad fork." Mrs. Pigeon whispered

"Sorry, we're uh … from another country …We use just one fork."

Mr. Deer perked up. "Oh you're foreigners? How fascinating! Where are you from? Tell us more about this place…"

"Ummm uh … America."

"Hmm, I thought they had silverware like ours?"

"We're uh … from the west … yeah."

"Ohhh, I see, that explains those accents - they're brilliant, I've never heard them!"

"Thanks?"

"Ha! The bloody Americans - bunch of run around yankees." Mr. Boar spoke.

"Oh be quiet, like you've even left England once in your entire life!" Said the pheasant.

"I know enough about the colonists-"

Jessica joked - "Didn't we win the war of 1812?" 

"Don't even get me started! You all just think you won because parliament got tired of throwing their money away!"

Jessica laughed. 

"I'm only joking, sorry."

"Hmph." He didn't seem particularly invested enough to ignore shoving food in his face - she sighed relief, as the attention was stolen from her and Toby.

"Oh goodness!" Mr. Rabbit hiccuped "Where are my manners! I didn't ask you your names."

"Oh I'm … Jessica Locke … And this is-"

"Toby … just Toby."

"Well Ms. Locke - were your parents Shakespeare fans?

"Come again?"

"Ah don't worry about it." Mr. Rabbit laughed.

Toby leaned over towards him - actually attempting conversation despite his soured mood.

"You're a magician right? What kind of tricks can you do?"

"Anything you can dream of I can bring to life! Actually, I will be practicing my routine tomorrow night after the ball, if you'd like to come by!

"Oh … u-uh ok…"

"Brilliant!" He reached a hand to shake - Toby slowly offered his own.

Jessica cleared her throat.

"I - I must appreciate the fact that we've been treated so nicely - despite the fact that we're so … different."

Crickets. Then a look of realization from Mr. Deer and laughter.

"Oh please, animalism is sooooo last century." They all laughed in that stereotypical pompous way. "Besides, you'll get your head's soon!" The pheasant woman said.

"Eh-Excuse me?" Jessica inquired.

"She means your immortality darlings." The deer chimed.

"I'm afraid I still don't understand…"

"Oh dear, don't tell me you're actually here for all that mental health nonsense - this place is for the elixir of eternal life. You can do whatever you please if your lifespan is endless!"

"... Sounds kinda … boring."

"Oh nonsense! You'll see soon!"

"No we're just ... staying the night - we have nowhere else to go right now."

"Hmm, how fortunate to end up here then! The deer man smiled.

"Yes … great." Toby and her quickly finished eating and asked to be excused - Jessica lied that she didn't feel well and pretended Toby was related to her and needed to come along.

The bell hob stared them down as they retreated through the 2nd floor hallway.

"That was … weird…" Toby said.

"Yeah … somehow even weirder than the other things…"

"Should we stay? I can break us out if you want-"

"As much as I don't want too, we have no idea where we are or even what time we're at. As long as we're here - and we follow their rules and little customs, we have a roof over our heads and food… at least until they figure out we're not supposed to be here."

"You have a point … but I hate being chained to a place … just got out of one…" His eyes shifted uncomfortably.

"I know. Trust me I want to go too, but … let's try to enjoy what we can. We'll get out, I promise."

"Pinkie promise?"

"Pfft - ok." She held out her pinkie and they shook on it.

"Goodnight. I'm right behind this door if you need anything."

"Ok, goodnight."

---

Jessica's Dress

Chapter Text

The next day started … busy. Saturday apparently. They were awoken early - as it had been arranged ahead of time that they'd need day clothing before breakfast. Forget the one from last night. This one was hot, starchy, and too long. It went all the way up to her chin, and down to her wrists. They even expected her to wear gloves again. There was no way in hell she was putting up with this all day.

Luckily, lunch came directly to her room - and she spent most of the hot day wrapped in a white sheet like a toga, as she refused to leave her room. She wondered how Toby was doing - but apparently men and women were not allowed in the same room unless married. Ugh. Stupid old customs. She really had no idea where they were stuck, but they could do nothing until they reached a clue on how to leave this strange … dimension.

Saturday night meant ball night. Which meant another bath, more makeup - which probably had lead in it  - And an even more extravagant outfit. Her hair was curled painfully and upstyled by staff that had the heads of multicolored mice. No one seemed to give two fucks that her ankle might be broken.

She met Toby down in the lobby. She stepped out of the elevator. The rest of the overly extravagant dress followed. 

"This is literally the worst and most beautiful thing I've ever worn in my entire life."

She pulled at the long train skirt.

"How am I even supposed to - ugh - walk in this? Without tripping everyone in the near vicinity? It takes up the whole room!" It got stuck under a table leg, which tripped her - luckily Toby half broke her fall.

"At least your's looks decent … I feel like a penguin."

"Oh come on, it's not that bad!"

"I passed a woman with a penguin head and she got offended, it's bad."

"Pfffftttt-HAHAHAHA!" 

"But … I mean … you do look nice … it's nice." He gave an awkward thumbs up.

"Thanks."

They cautiously walked in through double doors. There was light music from a record player, but the same dinner guests from the night before stopped. They were all watching her. She feels the beginning of a nervous sweat break out.

"Wow …" whispered Mrs. Pigeon, and suddenly Ms. Pheasant was all over Jessica.

"Oh my feathers! This is gorgeous! I've never seen anything like this! Is it foreign? You must simply tell me!"

"Oh no I just borrowed it from the hotel."

"Well they made an excellent choice!" Mr. Deer piped up. "You look lovely my dear!"

"Th-thanks…"

She wasn't sure how to accept the attention, and curled her hands together. Toby pulled her away from the gathering, until they bumped into Mr.Rabbit

"Oh pardon me! Good evening."

"Oh sorry…"

A song picked up on the recorder.

"May I have this dance?" The rabbit offered a hand and bowed.

"Uhhhh." She looked at Toby for help but he only shrugged.

"I can't really … I injured my leg."

"Oh - I understand, don't worry."

While the dress was pretty, she really had no urge to even enjoy such a thing in front of these people, and with her sore leg. This was a waste of her time. She needed to figure out where they were exactly, how to get back, and especially find Tim . He would know more than she did. This was frustratingly tedious.

They stuck to the walls, not really comfortable with this atmosphere. At least in a large crowd of people, you could disappear, but here it wasn't even above the single digits.

"I'm going to go find the bathroom…"

"Ok…"

She collected the fabric and limped carefully across the floor and back into the lobby.

She searched down the corridor - the bathrooms here were weird, though she guessed time appropriate. It was essentially a large wooden box, a fancy outhouse. She knocked. No answer. However as she opened this door - 

She was met by a man, a human, sitting on a more modern toilet seat.

"Oh sorry I didn't know anyone was in here ……… sir? ……. Sir are you ok?" She creeped forward, reaching a hand out to the slumped over head.

They shot up, face blackened out with the endless white eyes. Their body spasmed violently as it consumed him, and she slammed the door. 

"Something the matter?" The crow man scared her.

"I … there was - someone in the bathroom, I think he's sick…"

"Don't worry about him, he will waste away soon enough. His soul barely has a grip on this place. There is another washroom further down the hall to the right."

"... Ok … umm … thank you." She shuffled off until the hall was empty, and then turned back towards the ballroom - screw bathrooms."

Tap. Tap. Tap. She stopped walking, and the sound did as well.

Her ankle … she looked below the bundled skirt, to see her right leg turned a strange, opalescent sheen, fading into skin at her knee. 

"What the …"

She tapped the ground with the leg. Like some kind of abalone shell. The dull ache of her ankle had left, and she no longer had to limp about - though she feared slipping on the smooth balls of her feet. 

The pitter patter of the crystalline foot sounded, quite satisfying. Though, she isn't sure if she should be concerned or delighted.

Reentering the room, she catches Toby standing in a corner, Mr. Rabbit pouring over some magic trick story. Both his and Toby's ears twitched at the sound of her leg, and Toby saw the shiny gleam from under the skirt. "Hey! That's what happened to your-" a palm slapped over his mouth.

She found she could dance quite well on the odd foot - standing on her toes didn't hurt. She did a small twirl. Friction-less. She slipped, but Toby anticipated it and caught her arm. When she stood, the other foot had turned to rock as well. She windmilled her hands around, as she scooted forward on the ballroom floor like it was a skating rink. She stood on one toe, which developed a small spike to keep her stuck in place. 

"Marvelous! Good old magic will fix you up!" Mr. Rabbit laughed.

"I … is that what this is?"

"Looks to be!"

They found a concession table to huddle next to for the remainder of the time. It was a lot easier to forget your nervousness with delicious foods.

Finally 9 o'clock tolled, and they made their escape.

"Ugh at least the food was good…" Jessica sighed.

"He~he~he~" 

"What are you laughing about?"

He opened the front of the suit jacket to reveal he'd stolen tons of goodies. She looked around and laughed as he handed her a powdered tart, no doubt the sugar had gotten all over the inside of his outfit.

---

She had finally unpacked the thousand layer dress and washed up, rubbing her temples. She looked at her hair, it was getting long. She knows she's only been gone for 3 days, but it feels like weeks, pinching the bridge if her nose to fend off a headache. 

The room had a few selections of music, and she figured out how to operate the thing.

Gymnopedie calmly played on the record, while she laid back on the plush bedding.

The itchy wool nightgown was too much in the over packed bedding, so she decided "fuck it" and went in her underwear. She pulled the quilt up over her chest, praying it was washed - it seemed to be. It was fresh and floral, almost like it hadn't ever been used at all.

She sighed looking at the popcorn ceiling, wishing she might have a book to read. She'd been staring bleary-eyed for at least an hour now. 'Why is the moon so bright!?'

Clamor. Clang.

She heard movement in the walls, and suddenly a hatch fell out of the ceiling, landing and leaving dust everywhere. Out popped Toby, lowering himself to the ground.

"What are you doing?"

"I found - eh -" he brushed himself off, "A bunch of secret passageways, lotta mice though…"

"Sorry, what are you doing here?"

"I don't know ...something felt really off, I don't think I should be alone in my room…"

"More off than usual?" She chuffed.

"Yeah … Can I … sleep right here? Please?"

She sighed, "Alright", tossing an extra pillow down to him. Soon he was twisted up awkwardly on the floor, drooling into the down. 

She rolled over, and sleep finally had mercy on her eyes.

--- 

Jessica's Dress

Chapter Text

Toby awoke with a start, remembering he'd agreed to go see Mr. Rabbit's magic show that night. Jessica was already fast asleep - he carefully opened and closed the door. It was late, almost midnight, but the rabbit man had said he would be up most of the night practicing his routine. 

Of course … there was an option of not showing up … but the man was nicer than the other guests here. Toby felt … perhaps he owed at least this little favor. It would make the guy happy, and he expressed no ill-will towards his general condition and tics.

Before his hand hit the door, it swung open.

"Welcome friend! Come in, come in!"

The room was the same standard size, though had an extra window, along with yellow wallpaper. Several devices and props were scattered about. He didn't waste any time.

"For starters, a card trick! Pick a card, I promise I won't peek." He winked, fanning out 5 cards. He plays along and selects one. He folds them up, and before his eyes they turn into flowers.

'Maybe this guy is legit.'

He hands him the bundle of flowers and pulls his hat off, gesturing for Toby to place them in. They fall into a bottomless pit. Toby looks down and the man's whole head disappears inside his suit - popping back out of the top hat.

"Woah …That's creepy!" A long ear flicks, and Toby sees a card.

"Pull that out for me, would you?"

He does, flipping it over.

"Is that your card?"

"Y-yeah … it is!"

"Moving right on to the second trick. He folds Toby's hand shut around the card, opening it to a key.

"Find where it goes!" He looks around, seeing a padlocked wardrobe, and tests the key. It fits, and the chain falls away.

He opens.

The skeleton of the rabbit man. He jumps, shutting the door. He looks behind him, and the man is gone.

He carefully opens the door again, and there is the rabbit man, unscathed.

"Nice!" Toby claps a little.

"Alright, for this next trick, I need an assistant!" He says, as he steps inside another lock box head poking through the top. "I want you to place these 3 swords in the marked positions!"

"Oh … ok."

He pulls them from their holster on the wall. They're real - lightweight, but sharp.

He slides the first in.

"Ooo that tickles!"

The second.

"You're doing great!"

He sees something from the corner of his eye, a rabbit - but not … the same. He turns again and the lights flicker. He sees a white rabbit in a black cloak pass by the window. 

"What's wrong chap?"

The night time here - it was messing with his head, but everytime he would lose his train of thought on the subject. He couldn't figure out why it was so weird.

So he looked at the magician rabbit, standing so trusting in the box - and the first idea popped.

'What if I put it in the wrong spot?'

But he ignored that. Putting it in the correct spot. There was a look of shock from the man. Toby didn't understand why… it had slid in without a hitch.

"But … how-" His dying gaze looks out the window at the apparition of a white rabbit.

Toby blinks.

 He was staring at a dead rabbit man, blood gleaming and dripping down the sword blades, and dripping from the bottom of the wood.

He didn't deserve that.

And now Toby was angry.

Angry that he'd killed him.

There was only one thing to do.

The great equalizer.

---

Something's wrong. Something's very wrong. Toby was gone. It was dark, cold. She shook in the bed, before deciding to wrap the sheet around herself in a robe and carefully pad out into the hallway. Dark - candles blown out. Electricity gone. Cold, so unnaturally cold.

The elevator, atleast, was still working, no lights though. She pressed the button for the ground floor, hoping the lobby would know what was happening.

But as she stepped out - it was dark here too.

A shooting star went by outside.

"Excuse me? Hello?"

Mr. Crow wasn't at the front desk. She looked into the kitchen, only shadows met her, down the hall's past the bathrooms - a heavy lead weighed in her gut when she saw that the bathroom which contained the monster was open, mirror shattered. She needed to find Toby before …. Before something found them. 

She walked into the ballroom. 

Bad mistake.

The doors all slammed, and she pounded on them - no give.

"HEY! LET ME OUT OF HERE!" The pickup of a record player, scratching in the corner of the huge room.

'Danse macabre.' She knew the song all too well.

"The sooner you face your corrupted soul, the sooner you can leave." A voice.

'Oh god I know that voice . No no no don't turn around-'

She braced herself - and turned around.

Alex Kralie - just as she had seen him last.

He slowly advanced - she backed up, darkness gripped at her ankles - she was stuck in place.

He forcibly grabbed her hands and waist - like they were dancing.

"Let go of me!" Her body was not her own anymore, and she could feel the distinct press of a gun against her side.

They stepped madly with the song, with the crooning viola and even as crazy as Alex had been - she knew this wasn't him. Not even he would act like this. Because Alex … she remembered, he'd been sorry.

She held her breath, refusing to show her mortal terror, a bead of water formed at her eyelid.

No one escapes the dance with death.

Chapter Text

There's a thick static in his brain and he only knows hunger.

His muscles pleasantly flexed with glee, having the hatchets unsheathed. His toes curled, teeth bearing behind the guard.

He stalks down the hallway, the distinct odor of prey. He rounds the corner. Pheasant.

As he bludgeoned the door in, the pheasant woman looked him dead in the eye, smiling, before holding a small matchlock pistol up to her head - and calmly pulling the trigger. A spray of blood hit him and the photography on the wall of her latest shoots. He spun around on his foot to the next door. 

The blood drives him crazy, eyes dilating, feeling a festering itch at his nails, scraping then against the axe handle until they cut gouges.

He stomps across the hall - he can smell it - the stink of hypocrisy and his father . He busts the door. 

There is no shadow, no presence, but he can still smell, feel. He reaches an iron cabinet. He hits the lock with the butt end. Once. Again. The locking mechanism shatters and he bends the metal off its hinges. He didn't expect what was inside.

A child - with a pigeon's head, dressed in rags and bleeding from spots on his feet and feathers. He twitches. There is a device strapped to his head - which Toby recognizes all too well. 

"Where is your mother?" He growls, cocking his head to the side.

The pigeon boy points with a feathered finger. He looks dead, uncaring, tired. 

"Hiding in the bathroom huh?"

He stands.

"Fucking hypocrite's, liars and bastards - I want to end them all." He kicks in this door, the pigeon woman knocked over.

"You just loveeeeeee to tell people what makes you disconcerted, but you don't give a fuck about others. My tics make you "uncomfortable?" My mask scares you so I can't wear it? Because apparently the FUCKING WORLD revolves around you." He cackles.

"But look at you - it makes you uncomfortable because you're guilty. I could smell the rotten stench of abuse across the hall. Fucking waste of flesh."

A woman runs in, a guest that hadn't shown at dinner, but was briefly at the dance, who slipped in some snide comment about the medicine he carries with him. They're pink skinned and some cross of a pig.

"Oh right on fucking time!" He bludgeons them and they collapse next to the kid who couldn't care less."

"You know I could go on the hundred term list of all the reasons you piss me off, but I'm not going to - because you're such an illiterate fuck face"- His head twitches, then glitches in cubic parts. "-You wanna know something, I don't give an absolute shit if you don't like the pills I carry around cus they remind you of your drug addiction. THIS IS A FUCKING MENTAL HOUSE! WHAT DID YOU EXPECT BITCH!?" He hits them hard enough against the wall to crack their skull, and lets them bleed out. 

"AND YOU! " He whipped around to the woman with a pigeons head. "YOU'RE THE WORST OF THEM ALL! A COWARD!" He rips at the wirings of the machine in the metal box, wires sizzling with electricity - causing the hotel to lose power.

"You will reap what you sow." He shoved them back, sending them into the bathwater with the strange contraption - and the child, having been freed, pulled the lever on the box. She fried to death.

"Good job kid …"

He catches his breath - but he's not done, and stalks towards the shadow of antlers. A deer outside it's room door, just about to go in.

"Good god! You're covered in blood! Are you alright?"

"I'm great."

"Oh … oh no you're one of those things! You're not supposed to be - go back where you came from spirit! Monster!"

"You know there's many different things we call "monster". You'll have to be more specific."

He slams the door in his face. Toby lifts a heavy foot. And smashes the door in. It hits the back wall and leaves the Deer man stunned.

"Stay away from me! Heathen!"

"Wrong answer. I'm the worst kind of a monster. A human monster." An axe cut through the deer's neck, and they gargled, falling to the floor.

"Fuck … sorry … you weren't that bad … just an annoying ass prick." He stumbles, body dangling with the axes as he shuffles over the body.

A flap of feathers, he looks at the last unopened room.

"Hmm … well done, Mr. Rodgers." He stared the crow man down through the orange goggles. Blood smeared the axe head, dripping down onto the matching runner. 

'I'm not done yet. I still need more…'

His gut heaved with the pent up rage. He wanted to hear more of the slashing, the crunching, the screaming. More falling to his wrath. No one would laugh anymore. He didn't need that monster to tell him what to do. In fact - he would kill the monster too. He would kill them all.

"Your self control is lacking. It will be your doom, if you're not careful." 

"Are you going to try to stop me?"

"No." And he pulls a knife out.

"You know what to do… " The knife was turned around, the handle offered to him. So he took it. Walking to the door behind the crow man. Turning the knob. His skin burned. 

The boar man. Another encompassment of his hatred. A selfish bastard who ate and ate, smoking opium harvested by children - starving while he reveled in gluttony. Oh ho ho, he knew this was set up for him - that didn't matter. A large axe hanging inconspicuously above the couch by a thin thread, where the pig snoozed in his opium induced haze.

He flicked the knife with apparent ease and it cut the thin wire, letting the axe full and bludgeon their skull. 

The room is turning smoky with the leftover opium and the silhouettes of trees thickly crowd around him, calling to him, branches bending to reach for him. He thinks about it for a moment, but steps back. He turns, and he knows the forest stretches much farther beyond the walls of the room, but head for where he saw the door originally, opening it reveals a full length mirror.

That's not himself in the mirror. But it was. He peeked at his hands. Head to toe, he's covered in black tar, aside from a few bare patches. Two hollow eyes stare back. Two nubs protruded from his head, and he rubs at them, like he was growing horns.

Finally, accepting this as his reflection, the mirror shatters from an impact,  and he stumbles back across the hall into an empty room.

---

She was being dipped back, and the sound of the safety clicks off.

"No!" She shouted, a light flickering in her veins, slapping the gun across the room.

She threw him off and backed up.

"I beat you once Alex, I can do it again…" she huffed.

"Sure, but will you beat me?" She sees her old roommate -  Amy, walking from the shadows of the long curtains.

"A-amy? What are you-"

"Or me?" The hooded man, red face barely visible in the dark room.

"What about me?" The masked man, half his facade glowing in the wicked moonlight.

They surround her, cornering her. And the air grew thicker, darker, like smoke. The stars seemed to die one by one but their shadows grew and grew. To stretch across the ceiling towards her.

'What do I Do?'

"It's an illusion. Break it." The voice says. No need to be told twice. She bawled her fist. And swung.

Before her eyes it turned into a beautiful pearly rainbow, and upon impact to his right cheek- shattered the figurine of Alex like stone.

"To your left." She listened, and without even looking, broke the oncoming assailant. 

"Right foot, 90 degrees." CRACK . Another one down.

"Duck." She bowed below a hit, kicking at their shin repeatedly until it snapped in half, and they fell to the floor with a clamor, chunks skidding across the floor.

She whirled around with another blow but there were none left. Instead -

"SHRIEK!"

She looks at the ceiling, to see a bat - a human sized one at that - hanging above her with glowing yellow eyes.

The wings spread a little, regarding her, head swiveling to survey the damage in the room. Then they tuck away, eyes closing.

She awoke in bed. The candles were relit.

'Toby!' She pulled on the itchy nightgown and ran out into the hall, slipper landing in something … sticky. The white shoe was now stained with red. Actually - it was everywhere - splattered across the walls, the sconces, a deeper crimson then the red wallpaper.

She follows the trail. She knows what has happened and yet … she doesn't have too much sympathy for these cheap imitations of people. She steps over the first in her path. The deer man.

She needs to find Toby. 

---

He was shaking and sobbing in the corner. Knife still clutched in his fists as he curled up on himself. He doesn't know this room and he doesn't know what or who he is but he's done something bad . A black tar keeps bubbling at his fingers, forming sharp claws which he tears at with his teeth. But they just keep growing back. The black has secluded itself to one side of his face now, flapping around like a slow flame, he pulls at the stick-like antler forming from the tar, but it will not budge.

"Toby?" 

He knows that voice. Yes he's sure of it. And that's worse. Here it comes. The screams of hatred and disgust . "Are you alright?"

He could only whimper in response.

"Here … it's not good to curl up on yourself. Makes you feel worse." She carefully pried his death grip open. Opening his defenses.

"Do you want a hug?" He flicked his eyes around, not trusting his voice, so he nodded.

"Ok." She was very slow, but deliberate. Careful not startle him, but strong and stable. He was very cautious of his torso being open to attack, very unsure. He stayed still. Hoping, praying she would not be scared off by the blood.

Arms wrapped around to his back and patted him gently. He tensed expecting pain there. It never came. 

"But - I'm'm … w-weird." 

"So what, we all are. Some are just better at hiding it." She laughed, but it was not a demeaning sort. "Gee, you should meet my … "friends" … I guess they're my friends. Bunch of the weirdest guys you'll ever meet."

".... Y-our friend-zs …."

"Yeah. This one guy, Jay, carries a camcorder everywhere he goes. He once told me he was making a documentary on hotels. Worst liar ever, but I bet he'd get a kick out of this place."

He stayed quiet, listening carefully.

"I also had two roommates. One of them, Alex, was making this student film. Let me tell you - it was soooo bad." She giggled more. "And he'd get mad at you if you laughed at the trailer - but it was so - Ha ha ha! It was great. And then there's Tim - you met him - he was the only one that could equally piss off Alex. He's got his own issues but he's a cool guy."

'Tim's the guy in the mask. Alex … was it the same Alex?'

"What happened to them …"

"Hmm?"

"Your friends."

She sighed.

"Well, Jay and Tim … I don't know. I haven't seen them in a while. And Alex …. the others …. Do you want the truth?"

"Ok."

"You sureeee."

"Mhm."

"You double surreeeeee."

"Yes." He pouted.

"Ok. Alex - Alex went crazy and killed all of our friends. Then he tried to kill me and Jay. Probably Tim as well. He was just … farther down the list I guess. Don't know where he went though. Tim just said he "took care of it". And I'm really not brave enough to ask what the hell that means."

He froze 'Ah … that explains it.' He had gotten the vibe from her, that she had been through some shit. She wasn't just some random woman stuck in a nightmare realm.

He was embarrassed but couldn't find a moment to care right now, and tried to hide himself in her shoulder.

"Hey, it's alright!" She smiled. "We all get thrown in the trash heap every once in a while. Nothing wrong with that!" 

"I literally just killed a bunch of weird animal people…"

"Maybe I'm going crazy…But I really don't care too much anymore. Besides … I don't think they were real."

"What?"

"They feel … artificial you know … the Crow, and the cook, and the bell hob … they all have this strange look in their eyes like they know something no one else does…"

Thinking about it - he did notice how the bell hob always glared at them. He just thought they might be awkward.

'Well that response was … unexpected. She's warm. And safe.' He nearly closes his eyes, until In the corner of his vision, a demonic figure, like the one from the clock, poised with the knife he'd dropped moments ago. 

"NO!" He shoved Jessica, shock written on her face as she fell back, seeing the black ghost. He grabbed the wrists of the spectre. They came to the same height, face to face as he pushed back with all his might. Legs still bracketing her shoulders, trying to put himself between him and it. But it was far stronger. Bending him back. White eyes bearing into him. Jessica's voice was painful and distant, like an air raid siren.

It's too much. But he feels … it. "It" was something new. This wasn't … the masters influence. Not his rage either. Whatever "it" was rose fast, bubbling in his nerves and igniting his muscles again. The longer he grimaced at the thing, the more its face morphed, contorting, a jarring smile with a gash. Eyes - his eyes. His face, his skin, his hair. Him. It knew it had the upper hand, as black moths coated up his hands where their hands locked.

"Toby! It's not you!" Jessica's voice broke through - with another familiar female's voice. 

'Precious things are on the line - if I fail.'

He can actually think now, and slides his leg to trip them. They may be a ghost, bit they still obeyed gravity, wobbling backwards to stay upright. He makes a downward arc with his hatchet, breaking its legs in half. It falls against the wall, wound regenerating but it couldn't keep up with him. He cut and cut, each slice cutting the tarry mass, and leaving a thick cut into the wallpaper behind it.

Jessica let out a shout, and charged forward, smacking it in the head with a vase. It groveled at her - more annoyed than anything. But it was enough of a distraction.

One hand let go of the axe handle to clutch at the knife in its hand, he yanks it away, and drives it back down into its chest. 

There is a bursting cascade of fluttering wings, and he felt lighter. The rage was gone. Something had been lifted that he didn't know was there. He blinks and looks around. He's alright. Jessica's alright - a bit shocked.

The crow man stood in the doorway with a cane. His head angled to give them an almost approving look.

"Nicely done - that takes care of the first half! Just have you left, Ms. Locke."

He claps his white gloves together.

"Harvey, could you please come clean this up?" A familiar squawk, and a person in a suit wandered in. That person having an awfully recognizable parrot head.

"Hey are you … we've met before right?"

Another squawk, "Met before." They repeated.

"Yes, this is Harvey, tasked with guiding you to our humble retreat."

"Hi Harvey!" Jessica waves. Harvey takes the knife from Toby's hand and it's tucked away in a suit pocket. He begins tidying things - broken vase pieces flying back together and glued.

"Sorry for the forced formalities - I didn't want the guests becoming suspicious of you."

"So this WAS a set up! I knew it!" Jessica yells, clenching her fists near her chest and smiling.

"Yes and no - this space you're standing in now, is on a loop. This isn't the real Rusty Lake Hotel - rather an event in its history. It has served its purpose. The guests here have been murdered before - and likely will be again, for whoever the next is to arrive. I will take you to the real hotel as of now. It's a little more updated - though bare with me - it's quite 1960's."

They follow him down a hall, and into the red lift. The bell hob - Jessica recognizes as the ceiling bat now - pushes a 3rd button and they go down. The door reopens on a floor that looks like a more updated version of the lobby. It's day time and the bright noon sun shines through glass doors.

Jessica stretches.

"Ahhh~ sweet sweet air conditioning." 

"Yes, I must say it is one of the modern comforts I actually enjoy." Mr. Crow chuckles - a resonating sound only in their heads. 

"There's showers up stairs, and your actual clothing is sitting in your rooms. Well, accept you Toby - there was only the clothes on your back. I'd recommend a shopping trip honestly." 

They split off after Jessica assures that Toby is ok now. He seems better than ever really. Before she goes up the stairs, she turns back to Mr. Crow.

"You said … something about the first half - what's the second half? And why does it involve me?"

"I'd be surprised if you haven't already figured it out, but I'll confirm your suspicions. Mr. Rodgers has defeated his own corrupted soul - he will now be mostly impervious to the influence of the Slenderman."

"The … what?"

"The tall faceless one who's only good taste is a fitted suit…"

"Hey but … wait, how did you know about that? And how did you know how to get him to fight his soul? And how are we here? And how-"

"Slow down, slow down." His beak seemed to curve in a smile.

"The Slenderman … a fallen angel that disguises himself as a demon. He's been around longer than I have - but he cannot get to this realm - because of its proprietor. Who happens to own this hotel. You are here out of a mutual arrangement of a "friend." And as for his corrupted soul, that's our specialty here. The lake is an epicenter of our … operations. Though, I will admit - usually we focus on the generation of lost souls." He winked, which gave her some terrible feeling that she really didn't want to find out.

"You're soul is stable enough for now - it will not trespass on the hotel grounds. It's safe … for now."

"Oh … thank you."

"No problem, now I must attend to some business before dinner time. Good evening." He tilted his beak like a hat, and disappears.

She retreats to her room to find that not just her PJ's, but her entire wardrobe is hung in the closet. 

"Squawk!"

Harvey sits on a perch, back in parrot form.

"Hi again."

"Hi again." They repeat.

She grabs a fresh set of clothes and heads down the hall for the showers. They're still older than what she's used too, but functional and clean.

She returns twenty minutes later to her room, finding Toby playing with Harvey, seeing what words they'll repeat.

They both jump when Harvey let's out an exact replica of a woman screaming - then they burst into giggles.

There is a knock at the door frame, and Mr. Crow walks in with a silver tray, setting it down at a small round table in the room.

"Enjoy!"

"What is it?"

"Venison. Fresh from just last night."

He left the room to stunned silence.

"He couldn't … no he couldn't mean…"

Toby opens the dish - though both of them really haven't seen venison to tell the difference before. 

Toby shrugged and started cutting, she slapped his wrist, causing the knife to drop to the floor.

"What?"

"Toby! This was a person!"

"We don't know that!"

"Where the hell else would they have fresh deer meat slaughtered last night ."

"... Ok mayyybbbbeeee it is - but it's not like it's human - not that human isn't toooo bad."

"Oh my god… I think I'm going to be sick…"

"What part? Cus if it's the human part I didn't really have a choice…"

"Toby this is still … A sentient creature - even if he was a deer, he still had the same level of intelligence we do - doesn't that make him at least a bit human? This is just … disrespectful."

Toby stared her in the eye - a rare feat for him to initiate.

"I killed him. In cold blood. There's almost nothing more disrespectful than that. And no amount of "respect" will make up for that."

"But … it's just-"

"It's a human emotion, to want to balance things out. But the worst has been done. He's dead. He won't care what happens to his body because he can't … they were probably going to throw his body to whatever monsters live in that lake anyways … at least now he has a use beyond death."

"Shit why do you sound smart all of the sudden…." She grumbled.

"Besides, we need to keep up our strength right?" He offered a fork with a piece speared on the end. She stared, heart racing away, and slowly took the fork into her own hand, fist closing around it to avoid dropping it.

"... I'm going to hell anyways…" 

She bit into the meat.

Chapter Text

The shorter one in the dusty ass gear had been keeled over in a laughter attack for a good while.

They sighed.

"Wellllllll - I think we can agree this was all a big misunderstanding. A false alarm."

They then turned to the one in white.

"What do you mean … no, 4 told us to wait here … fine!" 

They walked inside a building - despite the "chief" not saying a word to them. A few painfully silent minutes later they walked out.

"No I didn't find the pipe … 4 told me to come back out here! … I'm not dicking around …. Don't fucking yell at me!" 

They then snapped back to the trio, and approached close enough so they didn't have to yell. A metal bar hangs over their shoulder, with two strange spikes jutting out.

"So, if you haven't guessed by now - welcome to the grand old ark!" They gestured. "Well … whatever's left of this Shithole - fuckin potholes everywhere."

"The ark … like ToTheArk." Jay mumbled.

"Yeah - it's called English."

"Hey wait -" Tim spoke up, rubbing his black eye. "-so why are we here? What's all this ToTheArk bull about? I don't see what's so special about this 'Shithole."

"Damn you're a quick learner … assuming not just one - but three! Three angels are here, I believe you've got something to do with Harut."

".... A What?" Jay and Tim deadpanned.

"Oh boooooooyyyy. Alright … fuck it I can work with this. Think bitch!" They slammed the tool against their helmet.

"Ok!" They jabbed the other flat end under Tim's jaw.

"You're the moon - or at least, you're host to the moon."

"And you-" Brian pushed the bar away.

"Justice."

"And you … " They kneeled in front of Jay. "The hermit … what the fuck have you been eating? Shit wreaks!"

"Uhhhh … fish."

"Huh … weirdddddd. Doesn't smell like fish … smells like..." They leaned uncomfortably close "... roadkill rabbit."

"Anyyyywhoo - fastest way to put it 'cus I HATE wasting my precious time - you three, are humans, possessed by angels whom I  may or may not happen to know… you're here for a big reason, annnnndddd - uhhhhhhhh" They did this for a minute. "Oh yeah! You've arrived at the ark! The last stronghold against Harut, The Tower aka you're faceless stalker asshole cunt bitch head … ok I'm projecting a little SORRYYYY." They giggled.

Neither of them really didn't know what to say … Well Brian did, but he couldn't speak.

"But … why are we here? Like … why not the others? Why are we the only ones left … alive?" Jay said forlornly.

"Oh … trust me, you're not the first. And I doubt you'll be the last - unless we can put a stop to this grand charade."

Then - over their shoulder.

The windows. Each window. Peaking out of old distorted glass.

Hundreds - it had to be hundreds.

Hundreds of faces.

Some just like their own.

Others that looked to be from an entirely different time in history.

Some masked, some Inhuman. All suspicious laiden and seemingly terrified of what the newcomers were going to do. They could feel the power radiating from the hermit - some of the humans recognized it and panicked. 'Why is he back here? Why did he come back!?'

The three huddled closer together. 

Noticing their change, the shortstack raised a brow, and turned around.

"Hey - HEY! HEY! FUCK OFF! I TOLD YOU TO GO HOME! ONLY I GET TO BE A NOSY BITCH HERE! COCKSUCKERS!" 

They all immediately ducked and hid away, doors and shutters banging closed.

"Uggggghh god, none of them can wait till we say its safe, they just HAVE to investigate. Then again - a lot of the got here because they couldn't stop investigating isn't that right -" They pointed at Jay. "... Youuuuu."

"Jay." Tim eyed him, but Jay pushed his fear to the side.

"Hello Jay, I'm -" they paused mid-sentence. Their neck cracked grossly, and they stood straight.

"Listen - history's history - you can do whatever the hell you want, go wherever the fuck you want. Just watch out for danger and potholes and don't ignore the fire diamonds - you will explode. Besides that, I don't give a fuck at all, but -" They poked Brian "I can smell that tar festering in your soul, and if you don't get it fixed soon - you won't be human any more."

They stepped back over to Jay, slamming a hand on his shoulder, Jay swears now he recognizes their eyes. But who?

"And when that happens - well, I don't really care then either." They whispered - loud enough for just them to hear.

"But - If you pull a fucking stunt like the one earlier, I will string you up by the skin - right where you're standing. Capiche?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-"

"Great! Have a nice day, bye!" And in a poof of smoke, 37, their crew, and the firetruck all vanished.

Silence.

Tim blinks, "I think … I've said this a lot today, but what the fuck is happening?" Tim

"Hey … look!" Jay points, Tim touches his eye - no longer bruised, knuckles clean too. Brian's nose wasn't crooked anymore. Not even a scuff on their clothing.

"Alright did that happen or are we all collectively on some strong acid trip." 

"I wish." Tim sighed.

Brian didn't really care - tugging at Jay again. 

"Brian where are we going?" Nothing but a pull on his wrist. 

'Dreams.' He tapped his forehead. 

"Brian we should - we should stop and gather resources or something this is dangerous."

Brian shook his head at Tim.

"I guess … whatever it is really important…"

Far beyond the city limits, they wandered through tall blue grass, swaying in the wind - the constant stench of rain threatening to fall - never doing so. Broken structures dotted the plains every so often. They said nothing. The constant word ' Angel' repeating itself. What did "Angel" mean? 

Brian stopped, Jay nearly running into his back. He swiveled his hand - scheming - then points and breaks into a sprint. Jay forgot how fast the man was. They're running now, breeze whipping sea salt past their faces.

Brian slides to a halt.

A large rectangle hole spanned wide over the plain sinkin down, down, down. A thin staircase descending into the great darkness. Intricate architecture sculpted the walls, and Brian stood at the first flight - pressing a hand to it.

"We aren't …" Tim spoke too late. Brian took a step. One more. Another. Jay hesitated. 

That is - until Brian took a running jump off the stairs, falling into the bottomless pit.

"BRI-" Jay leaned forward, but was tugged back by Tim.

"Let's go." They ran 5 steps at a time, jumping down flights. They ran out of breath - looking up - only about a hundred meters down.

"How - how far can it be?"

Tim kept walking.

"Tim?"

"Shh … just … let me think for a minute." 

A sheer whistle from the shadows below, and their eyes adjusted, making out Brian standing perfectly fine at the bottom. 

"How did he …" Tim muttered

"Come on!" 

"JAY!" He flung off the edge, and was caught in a nearly transparent web of silk and water drops.

Tim rubbed his face. "Please let this be the last crazy thing I do today…" he steps off the edge.

Once at the bottom, Brian pulls a torch off the wall, striking it - it ignites immediately, and he walks into the stone corridor ahead.

They enter a large room, and Brian cracks his throat

"It." He squeaks hoarsely.

They look up. And up and up and up.

A fossil, of massive proportion, towering high, high, high above them. Dwarfing their existence, so far the light couldn't reach it fully. Skeletons Wings as big as the chasm itself. And a giant skull, so large they could comfortably sit in its Nasal cavity. But worse about it - the large presence of an X ripped through the entire wall - Circled.

Brian sat on the floor. Jay and Tim - their minds couldn't work anymore.

"I," Tim said, then stopped.

"What does it mean?" Jay asked.

"Is it … real?" 

"I'm more concerned … what made those scratch marks."

"What have we got ourselves into?" Tim whispered.

Jay found his legs again, stepping over to Brian.

'My dream.'

"So … you had a weird dream too?" Brian blinked agreeance at Jay. 

"What if this thing still exists? Then what?" Said Tim. "Jurassic Park?"

"... I don't know. I - I don't want to know." A terrible rush of fear snagged itself onto Jay - he bit back the bile.

Brian signs. 

'Angel.' Shaking his own hood. Then points at the fossil. Tim looks back and forth for a moment and then bursts - "Are you trying to tell me when I black out and run around in the woods I'm that thing!?"

'So-So' He waves.

Brian writes with the ash on the stick.

'Wait here - for angel - tell us what happened.'

---

And this is how they get themselves camping in a dark, wet cave - seemingly waiting for one of them to pop into their other self. But it was a really long wait. They were all hungry. Brian insisted they leave their gear at the island. It's sometime later when Jay is nodding off and Tim is trying to learn sign language, that the black cat enters the corridor.

"You're back! Come here kitty!" The cat curls up next to Jay, who scratches his chin lovingly.

"You could call him again you know."

They all drop what they're doing and look at eachother.

Tim breaks the silence first. "OK please tell me we all heard the cat talk."

"Yeah … I think … I did." Brian nods as well.

"Call the Hermit!"

They all jump this time.

"I think we should listen to the ... cat?" Jay blurts out.

"I swear if I wake up and this is all some overdose dream I'm going to kick your asses." Tim lays back on the floor exasperated. He sits back up just in time to watch the change happen. He'd only ever been the victim of it - but now, he could actually watch it play out. Jay's eyes rolled back, then left, right, up, down. His fingers flexed, his jaw wiggled. And then he smiled an un-jay-like smile. The fire blows out, leaving a dim blue light in the room, reflecting off water puddles.

"Well, you've finally arrived here. This is something I've wanted to show you." 

"You … it's … the hermit? Right?

"Yes. Alnassik. That is my name."

"So … you're … and I'm, and he … an angel? Seriously?"

"I doubt it's the same perception you have of "angel." I'd say a better phrase for it is rather … a different state of existence …. You'd probably even associate more with demonic than angelic." They giggled a cold laugh.

"Is that … what you look like?" Tim nods to the fossil.

"Oh - No - this." He opened his arms in grandeur.

"This is our ancestor. Intimidating isn't it? And yet here they are - solid rock. Nothingness."

"Who carved that into the rock … they'd have to be pretty big wouldn't they?"

"Perceptive Tim." It sounded terribly weird coming from Jay's mouth, but in the whispering, cooing voice.

"I'll be honest with you - I have no clue. The last time … I saw this … as a babe. It was intact … though-" They turned around so fast, like they didn't move at all.

"I haven't met everyone yet. There's always a few - that are always a bit … secretive. If you've collected by now - every one of us matches, what your species calls the major arcana… and we each have a part to play … more or less."

"If you really want to know … I'd ask … some residents. I haven't been here in … perhaps a thousand years now … I never really concerned myself with the past - just the future. Always a hunger for movement, for the next truth." They placed a hand over their chest. "You can see, he was the perfect option. I couldn't be more proud of the progress he's made alone - but." They turned twitchy, unstable.

"It's not enough. He needs a few pushes in the right direction now and then…"

Tim kinda had the urge to smack them.

"I don't want to stand in a damp moldy cave all night so you got anything actually useful we can go off of?"

"I can't quite tell you everything right now - because others are listening. They always are." Jay didn't have the mask on, but his face looked sunken and skull like - teeth stuck on a permanent grimace, eyes glowing a slight bit.

"And now, I wouldn't make this recommendation if I weren't serious. The older they are the smarter - I would consider speaking to the devil."

"... What are we going to hold a seance for satan?"

"Oh I should've told you - the devil is 37, who I believe should've … greeted you by now - if you're already here … and not dead…"

"That … firefighter? They're more unstable than Alex ever was! Why don't you just go talk to them?"

"Eh. No. They make me … uncomfortable. If my skin could crawl it would."

"So we're just supposed to be comfortable with it?"

"Yes … I perceive them differently. All angels do - but you… they might look more … normal. Ugh they're … freakish. They're not like … us."

"How so - it seems like they're another asshole parading around in some poor person's body to me."

"No. That's just them. They were born human. And it's fucking weird!" They actually looked like they were going to throw up.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Sounds like Angel racism?"

"YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND!"

They coughed.

"Anyways … yes, I know they're crazy. But they're … knowledgeable. They are named the devil for many reasons."

"Is there literally anyone else we can talk to?"

"With the same amount of strange genius … no one I know yet. But searching around. Besides, now that we're here." He gets close to Tim's face, staring down at him like a ghost. It's such a weird posture on Jay - shoulders back and confident. He didn't realize actually how tall Jay was in comparison.

"More will come. Give it time. Not too long now. Everything is set in action."

Tim turned to Brian, who seemed rather … unfazed by the events.

"Can't wait to walk up a thousand flights of stairs…"

"Allow me." 

The room shifted and he thought he was going to throw up. The next thing they know, they burst out in a puff of shadows and land in the city fountain. Jay is out cold and Brian picks him up before he can sink.

There's a heavy-set man, a bit taller than Tim, scruffy brown hair and beard, staring at them through glasses, holding a bucket of water. They glance at Tim, then Brian, and then stare at Jay. They drop the pail and run.

"Hey!" But they've vanished.

"Well…" Tim says to Brian. "I guess … we should find somewhere to rest until Jay wakes up … I mean they DID say we could do whatever we wanted …"

Brian nods and they both hook Jay under the shoulder, walking off to find a (hopefully) empty building.

Chapter Text

It was dark, a few streetlamps glowed warmly but most were destroyed. The moonlight dispersed through the clouds cast their shadows far down the cobble. There isn't a peep, just a quiet wind in the eerie town.

Tim unintentionally is leading the way, saying he'll stop when he gets a "decent vibe" from a place.

Their stomachs are eating themselves, but they tried to tide it off with some glasses of water they collected earlier.

Tim does stop at a building - which looks just like all the other buildings. They go inside - the wood creaks under foot but doesn't cave.

God it's creepy in here.

There's rooms upon rooms, some locked, some just filled with glass bottles. Tons and tons of glass. If only they could eat glass.

They climb several flights, not wanting to be right next to the entrance. Memories of Benedict Hall. Bad memories.

Tim stood at a door, and tries the knob. It gives. The insides are carbon copies of the rest of the rooms, except this one is mostly bare, a broken bed and some chairs, a window that remained intact, and a bathroom that currently couldn't be seen in the low light. Brian was used to sleeping in quiet, drafty places … but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. He shuffles closer to Jay for warmth.

They all just want to plop down, and close their eyes - perhaps if they can't see the monsters they won't be attacked by them.

Jay's stomach lets out an uncontrollable rumble.

"Well get some sleep, then we'll worry about food ok?"

"Alright."

The bed frame is broken, unsupportive, he scoots the mattress onto the floor. While dusty and a bit hard, is relatively unused. Jay pulls the comforter and sheets with it. They're all too tired really to do anything else, and after checking the locks, they plop down. It's tight fit. Tim lays on his side facing the wall, and he can feel Jay's head radiating against his back. Brian grabs around Jay like a human body pillow, and is asleep in a few minutes.

"Hey Tim." Jay whispers into his shoulder blades.

"What is it?"

"What's it like … when I'm like that …"

"What do you mean?"

"When I'm the uh … masked thing. That's what's happening to me, right?"

"..." Tim isn't sure if he should answer the question truthfully, but decides he can't lie anymore to him.

"Yes … I think … it's the same thing."

"What do I do, while I'm it? I mean I've seen you and Brian but … is it any different than that?"

"... Yeah … Actually … it is. You're rather talkative?"

"Wait. Really?"

"Yeah you … speak perfect English. And you're kinda … sassy, I guess. Or the … 'angel' is. God it feels weird calling them that…"

"Pff, not exactly the epitome of angelic are they?"

"Definitely not."

"What else do I do?" Jay's fingers lay a palm on his back and he tenses up, then relaxes.

"They … he … they're kind of an asshole, not going to lie … but they're helpful … although kinda secretive."

"Which ToTheArk member isn't?" Jay sleepily chuckled.

They are quiet for a few more minutes and Jay speaks in a near asleep tone.

" Can you … keep an eye … on me? When I'm like that? I know it's a lot to-"

"Of course Jay. Don't worry. Get some sleep."

"Ok." He slurred as his eyes couldn't fight open anymore.

In the morning, Jay finds there is running water in the bathroom - and has to assume it's safe to drink it. Who knows, maybe with this whole angel biz he could drink saltwater? He didn't really want to test that though.

It was so nice to be under a shower rather than a stream. Hot water steaming, almost burning his back. He ran fingers back, per his usual routine, scratching the dead skin away and poking around moles he knows he should leave alone. But well into adulthood it was better to satisfy this urge, otherwise - risking a different one. He remembered the years of struggle to stop biting his fingers, stop ripping flesh from the nail bed, and came out victorious. But it quickly manifested into biting and tearing at the skin of his cheeks. The cheeks shed a lot, he learned. He would chew and chew until they bleed, and come morning, it had mostly healed over, tattered flesh sloughing off. He returned to biting his nails after that.

Brian stepped behind him breaking his incessant chain of thoughts. It was rather fast how any physical barrier really broke down between them. It was just … serene. It wasn't unnatural. Guess dying once put a lot of things into perspective. Tim, on the other hand, was still trying to keep some sense of normalcy. Jay has some theory on a social "disconnect" happening when they died. All the small embarrassments and fears and tricky little human customs that plagued them before were fizzling out. And another, quite possibly, Jay was getting used to his 'angel.' There are old glass bottles of soaps and shampoos - it takes a few tries to figure out which, but eventually he's scrubbing suds into his hair. An audible relief. The grime always made him antsy. 

The two just stand and talk - though in silence, in the strange Morse code that developed itself automatically.

There is a wet peck to his cheek and he laughs, rubbing Brian's jaw like some kind of cat. He was silly like this. He would sneak up and leave tiny affections always surprising him. He'd always been like that, not afraid to hug and cuddle with friends. But now even more so touch-starved. Sometimes he'd tease them by suddenly blowing a puff of air in his ear and running away fast. Even a few "wet-willy's" which got the usual response of "AGH! You manchild! Come here!" From Jay.

Tim had noticed it too, the days he's been here. It was really surprising to see Jay ok with, even enjoying, the fact that Brian almost always had at least a finger in contact. He huddled close like a shadow.

Tim thought for a day, that he might be jealous, that it might develop… but it didn't happen. Though there was a yearning. Brian was always careful with Tim's boundaries in the past. Tim thought he wasn't one that liked to be touched, didn't want to be in contact. But the lingering moments of it, even just a handshake - left a fuzzy feeling. He actually did like it. But - damn his anxieties - he was too afraid to admit it. Too afraid of betrayal or rejection, so he always tensed when someone touched him, pretended like he didn't like it.

That was becoming particularly difficult in this new environment. They all had to sleep like sardines last night on a tiny mattress, along with the cold and drafty room. It was harder than ever to not curl to his side and hug a zonked out Jay to his chest like a pillow. It's almost as if he wanted to shield them. But instead he could never work up the courage and was left with imaginations. Ok, He was jealous of Brian for that aspect. He didn't know how he could so easily just take what he wanted. Anxiety didn't bother him anymore, as he'd seen far worse. Felt far worse.

He is currently dreaming of Ice and snow, cold from the lack of companions.

Jay's hair is almost dry and he puts on his clothes - he really needed to find some others. He shuffles out, laughing at a still sleepy Tim. 

"Tim … you need to wake up~"

"No…"

"Timmmm."

"5 more minutes."

"It's been an hour, we need to go get food."

"Mmmm cold…"

"If you get up and walk around you'll feel warmer."

"What are you my new parent?"

"FOUR!"

BANG.

Everyone was awake now.

"What the-"

"I SAID FOUR NOT SEVEN DAMMIT"

BANG .

"DIE NAMELESS BITCH!"

Tim's had enough - he doesn't care how dangerous it is. He swings the window open.

"What the he-" He pulls his head back in just in time to dodge a potato chucking across the sky. 

He looks out the window, followed by Jay and Brian like a cartoon, and of course it's the fucking "Firefighter's."

"What the hell are you doing and why are you wasting food!?"

37 yelled, and Tim almost couldn't make it out from here because of the mask. "You know there's literally a grocery store down the way! Besides, we're shooting it at that thing!" They pointed their hand at a strange gray creature, with maniacal jaws and long sickle like claws.

"... Shouldn't … you be more concerned about that!?"

"Nah, this is like a daily routine - he won't get close!"

"That thing lives out there!?" Tim points down the road.

"Yeah - a couple miles in the woods -oh you're worried about it! Don't be, can't touch you anyways. FOUR!"

Jay notices that the cannon operator literally has a four em-blazened on their helmet.

"Fucking … frat kids…" Tim mumbles, juggling a damp rag Jay brought him to wash the window dust off his hands.

Jay holds his laughter but smiles at Tim's annoyed state, he goes into the bathroom and takes over the shower. 

And then Jay sees it. The look on Brian's face . A shit-eating grin of foretold doom.

"What are you planning?" He holds a finger to his mouth, quietly turning the doorknob, stepping into the steamy room. Moments later he bursts out with a bottle of shampoo.

"HEY! GET BACK HERE!" But Brian has already run out of the apartment and goes flying down the narrow corridor. Tim comes out angry, wrapped in a towel.

"Don't slip!" Jay says.

"I wasn't done with that!"

"Well if you don't chase him he'll be sad."

Tim makes a face, and storms out of the room after the taller one, likely halfway across the building by now.

And then suddenly Brian has snuck back around and runs into the room, shutting the door. 

"Brian, you better open this door young man!"

"You should probably do what he says."

"I'm going to push this door in on the count of three. One…."

Suddenly the door makes a horrible screech as it snaps the hinges, bolts flying everywhere, and wood splintering as it smacked into and through the adjacent wall.

There's a yell from outside.

"HEY THAT'S THE SPIRIT!"

Tim looks at his own palm, then back to Jay and Brian, who puts his hands up in surrender.

"Oh for fucks sake - give me that!" He snatches the shampoo and returns to the shower - where he worries away about the sudden burst of strength he had and what it could mean.

Finally ready they set out to look for this apparent "grocery store." He doubts anything's stocked with how empty the place feels. Where would they even get imports? Fuck it.

"Wouldn't it be funny if it was a Costco?"

"Why a Costco?"

"I don't know, it just seems random."

And then they see a sign through the mist.

Costco.

"... Great Jay now your psychic."

"You've got to be shitting me."

Chapter Text

It's cold, deserted, and dark - a perfect match. Now that they were closer they realized the sign was actually a crappily painted "Cotsco".

There's rows upon rows of dusty shelves, and only a few of the lights work. It's like a liminal space. But - there is food.

"Do you think we gotta pay? Cus' I sure as hell don't have my wallet…" Tim grumbled.

"Does it look like there's been a cashier in ten years?"

The food, while branded - is all different kinds of strange things. Some have expiration dates older than themselves, and some, in the future. One aisle keeps mentioning something called "Corona" in 2020 and they're kinda glad they dodged that bullet, who knows what shit that was.

And then … the newspapers are the most intriguing. 

"Is this real?" Jay idly looks at them. 

"We should get food then we can do detective work."

"Yeah but it says Donald Trump becomes president in 2016."

".... Donald Trump? Like that guy from the reality show?"

"I guess …"

Brian's staring at the headline silently laughing.

"We probably shouldn't look at the future ones … it will just get all weird."

"Fine." Jay sets it back down.

Tim is very selective in what they get, only getting stuff he's sure he can "cook the food poisoning" out of. They land on just making pancakes from a mix that isn't horribly outdated. Jay peeks through the shelves patiently waiting for Tim to make his final decision. 

"See anyone?" Tim mumbles.

"No but I definitely get the distinct sense we're being watched."

Jay heads back down to the end of the row, looking at the empty rows of cash registers.

A woman with brown hair and glasses poked her head out from an aisle a few rows down.

"Uh hi - hi there." Jay says.

"I know what you are … stay the fuck away from me you monster." She smashes a bottle and brandishes it at him. 'Oh shit.'

"I - I don't know what you're talking about?"

"Wow, think I'd fall for that one - it didn't work the first time motherfucker -" 

'This is bad…'

"Hey - don't call him that -" Tim steps out of nowhere.

"Are you fucking serious? Don't tell me you're on that thing's side? Oh hell no I'm leaving!" And she flees. Jay looks at the ground nervously.

"Did I … do something to her?"

"No - no you were with us the whole time-"

"What if - she means like … when I'm it."

"I don't … think so - you don't seem violent … look don't worry about it she's probably seeing something totally different… who knows how screwed up everyone is here."

Jay sighs. "Ok…"

They leave with some pancake mix, and Brian demands they bring syrup. The roads are almost identical, but they know enough of the landmarks to make it back to their hideout. The mail box with a dent in it. The row of 3 dead bulbs and one flicking one. The brick out of place, which Brian stopped to push back. They noticed, as you went in towards the center of the city, the road always curved to the right. 'It's probably spiraled to some extent.', Jay thinks.

They continue in silence, until Jay's overthinking finally breaks into sound, "Hey, I think I'm going to go get our stuff … we might be here for awhile."

"Are you sure … it's a long ways away and you might not be able to teleport like last time and what if you get lost in the city or some other person tries to hit you and -"

"Tim ." He stops. "I'll be fine, ok?" He winks and Tim has lost any words to an argument.

"I'll be back as soon as possible. No more than a few hours."

"Ok … at least before it's dark."

"Got it." He gives them a wave, abruptly leaving the other two to continue to their room.

It's then and there that Tim realizes he quite literally destroyed the last room and audibly groans.

Brian smiles in a "So you finally figured it out" way.

---

They moved over a few buildings. Tim thinks it attracted to much attention. Though at least this one they find has a small stove, which they heated pancakes on before.

Brian sits by the window, watching as the clouds darken moreso, signalling a rain storm, and Tim is brooding with his leg on the desecrated remains of a nightstand. There's no use just sitting here while Jay looks around. He can scrape something up too… but asking it's going to be rough. He essentially has to ask Brian to divulge his trauma . So then he will have at least an idea of what they're dealing with. If anyone knew more about it - Brian, and whatever "angel" he had. Responsible behind the ToTheArk videos - at least Tim believes so. He's starting to think he was also responsible for some of them. 

"Hey Brian" He starts "… if you want … can you tell me … what it was like? All those years? You don't have to, you just seem to have a better hold it on then I do… and … I also want to know what to expect … with Jay."

Brian grimaces. Then writes: 'I'll write it down … but I want to be alone …'

"Ok. I'll give you some time. Want me to bring back anything?"

'Yourself.'

"Alright."

Jay was out doing whatever … and Brian needed some alone time. Tim needs answers. He might as well do some investigating of his own. But he really doesn't want to. Because he knows where all the trails are going to lead him, and he's not looking forward to it.

Chapter Text

He walks thinking about his exact plan of action, but more so envisioning impossible and terrible scenarios. He folds his arms, thinking he really needs to find a coat.

He passes a man with curly brown hair poking out from under a beanie and he's the first guy not to bolt upon seeing them, though he does cross to the other side of the road.

"Hey, hey sir can I ask you a question?" 

They freeze up and look at Tim - hesitating, and then they slowly walk back into the middle of the street to get within ear-shot.

"Uh … sure?"

"I just … do you know anything about the devil by chance?"

"Oh … thank God I thought you were gonna ask something else … the devil -" they paused "I really don't know much about them … besides they're judge, jury, and executioner … when it's necessary but … besides that … I don't know. They're … it doesn't matter..."

"Judge? In what way?"

"I … if someone else isn't available, they judge who steps foot in this town … and decides a ... punishment …"

"Oh …" ' Does that mean we … passed judgement?'

"I think … they also know everything about everyone … you don't have to tell them. Are you … looking for them or something?"

"Oh yeah, I don't really know where to go so I was kinda hoping they might just pop up - like they do."

He points down the block.

"When you get to the fountain, it's down 4th street, it's a small sign hanging above a door that says - and I quote, 'The Shit-fest Volunteer Fire Company…' And they spelled shit with two t's… if you really go, Just be careful… about what they say, They have the mouth of a liar … but their eyes tell the truth … if you see it you'll know what I'm talking about..."

"Alright … uh Thanks I guess."

"Yeah … bye."

They walked off down the road, and Tim pulled up his collar to better buffet against the misty wind.

He does as instructed and sure enough, there is a sign half suspended, half broken 'Shittfest Vol. Fire Comp.'

He's literally walking right into the devil's lair. He wraps at the door. It's motionless inside for a minute or so, and then he sees a shadow through the wavy glass. The door opens, and it's an even taller person in firepants, 4 em-blazened on their helmet. They too have their face covered, and rather shyly regard Tim.

"Hey can I, speak to uh, #37? If they're here."

They hold up a finger and shut the door. Moments later the "chief" appears and gestures him in. It's a very small and cramped coat room, and a respirator is handed to Tim, along with an extremely heavy backpack containing a bottle of air. He's confused until the host points at a sign. 'NO OXYGEN BEYOND THIS POINT.'

"Oh." Tim fits it on his face but struggles with the actual thing and is helped, his hair gently pushed out of the way and then thousand mystery straps tightened. The hose is connected and he breathes - panicking at first as his lungs feel like a vac, and then it pops on, and he's Darth Vader apparently.

They open the second door, letting Tim walk through first. Once it's shut, they pull their own tank off - dawning a normal plastic mask.

The inside is a shark contrast to the city. It's still rickety, lined with wood boards, but the walls are painted white. Everything is pristinely cleaned and he can actually hear others moving about in the building, like a colony of ants. He wonders, with a shudder 'Just how many are there?'

They point a gloved hand up the steep stairwell to the first door on the right.

"Oh … uh thanks." Sure enough as he finishes the climb up the doom stairs, there is a 37 nailed to the door. He isn't really sure what to do, so he knocks.

No reply.

"Umm hello?" He'd be surprised if anyone could hear him through the thing. Then another firefighter in full gear rounds the corner, and they see Tim standing there. He thinks they're going to confront him - especially seeing that this was '10'. Their first impressions weren't the greatest. But instead they take a fist and knock so hard the door frame rumbles. 

"GOD WHAT!?" They give Tim a thumbs up and continue on their path. 

"Umm … visitor? I wanted to talk to you about something?" More like he needed to talk.

"Come in."

He grips the doorknob like he wants to snap it, and opens the door.

He's greeted by a rather morbid scene of a person lying in bed with a pillow slapped over their face, and a very open wound across their abdomen.

"Uhhhhhh-"

"Shit's normal don't worry about it … close the door."

He decides to take their word for it. They pull the pillow off, their head wrapped in a scarf as well as their lower face. He would think it a bit odd if not for … well literally everything in his entire life.

"I didn't think you'd be the first to come knocking … but you are the smartest of the three stooges there …"

"Well, I have some questions that need answers to match." He said, biting his fingers in nervous habit.

"Ok. Why ask me - the literal fucking devil? I know you're not very fond of me."

"You've got the most knowledge here - at least I think - you've been here the longest."

"Mmm not quite - if you count the ones born here that is … but I guess you're right … if we're counting 'years spent' and not 'age' - I'm rambling again - have a seat…"

He moves a stack of books off a wood chair and sits.

"So what's rumblin' your jimmies?"

"... I guess … most of all would be Jay, and these videos by "ToTheArk."

"Oh yeah I know the vids."

"Ok but - why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are the videos so cryptic ? Wouldn't it have been a lot simpler to just …Talk to us."

"Oh well that's one's simple - not many of us speak English…"

"Are …Are you serious? That's why they're all … that?"

"Well yeah, probably that and a combination of really bad technology skills, and just general asshole-ry. As for Jay - Just confess already."

"WHAT? NO! That's not what I-"

"I'm pulling your leg! Anyhow, what particular thing is bothering you cus boy - there's a lot to unpack there."

"I guess … everything about this angel thing … Jay and I were apart for a long time, and I don't know much about what the hell this is - just that I used to get seizures and blacked out for months on end… He - Alnnasik - he acts weird too … there's a difference every time he's spoken before. He was really helpful and caring in the beginning and now he's … snarky? I also don't know what the hell he's done in Jay's body all those months before he arrived here… Jay doesn't remember and I certainly didn't see him…"

He realized he was pouring his gut out like this was the world's strangest therapy session.

"Hmmmm … give me a minute." They stare into their tea cup, seriously thinking about the sharings. They looked like they were choosing what to say - or rather, what not to say.

The minute of silence breaks when they reach over to set a stirring spoon on the dresser.

"... You know, have you ever considered-" They took a sip of the tar-like 'tea.' "-That maybe …. the hermit …. isn't the aggressor?"

"What?"

They squinted at the cup. "Alnassik. The Hermit. Let's say - he bit off more than he can chew - There's a distinct possibility he's lost control too."

Before he could speak 37 continued.

"Think about it - seven months for Jay to reach the ark. Brian - only three. Why would Alnassik risk his own vessel to run around for seven whole months? Oh, he says he needed time to "adjust." Blasphemous - he's not a time waster. But someone else might be…"

"Are you saying … there's … more than one - of him ?"

"I don't know … it's a theo-"

They ripped a metal pan off the nightstand, and hacked and convulsed into a bowl, before swallowing a glass of water with familiar white pills. 

"God - You know that shithead through me around quite a bit before."

'Shithead means operator.' He thinks.

"If it doesn't come here anymore … then how did you beat him?"

"Ha - *hack* - I didn't beat him - no - no." They hit their chest. "Not necessarily."

"First step: I killed something far more powerful than him, then, I left."

"That doesn't make … any sense - why would he just let you go!?" 

"I know something he doesn't. He fears it. So he stays far away - so that he cannot hear . See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil."

"This is another lie isn't it?"

"Ha ha, maybe."

Tim leans on his knuckles, breathing in. 

"Can … I see your mouth?" That sounded a bit weird, but they seem to take no offense.

"Ooo, you sure? Might not like what you see Tim…"

"I already don't like what I see…"

"HA! Good one- Fine, actually - I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet." Their voice changes, it makes his gut cringe and he can't place why.

"You've always been quite the intuitive one, took you the least amount of time to realize Alex was off his shit and get the fuck out of Tombstone." They laughed. Pulling at the bandana over their lower face. Tim squints.

"You kinda look like-"

"Now do you understand why he was afraid?"

Tim stood up, nearly knocking the chair back.

"What the hell are you…." He glared. 

They smiled. Brown eyes.

"That's what my mother said when I came outta the womb! Ahem - 'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.' Oscar Wilde once said."

Tim leaves.

---

Jay walks around climbing a stack of crates to get over a wall. He was telling the truth mostly, but the big reason he wanted to go back was to feel the ocean again. His muscles itch from disuses, he just wants to be in the water. An ache. The stones start turning into gravel as he treads down the metal-blue beach. Waves beat against rocks standing here and there. From this area he can see far and wide - and does note there is a forest, and some rigids mountains in the distance. But everything is still painted in a blue-gray shade. The smell of salt … is refreshing. He walks into the foam with his clothes still fully on. It greets him by running around his soles. And then it climbs, though still leaving his pants dry. He lets it encase him as he takes the plunge.

This time he doesn't dream, and steps out of the water back on the island.

He lets out an audible sigh, it's warm and sunny and beautiful here, green and full of foliage. The sand tells him something though. 

Tracks. Foot after foot. The hairs raise on his back.

Someone is in his house.

Chapter Text

He goes on the defense immediately, following the tracks, though a safe distance in the shade of the bracken, not sure if he's predator or prey in this situation.

The tracks are a bit mixed, maybe a limp perhaps.

He doesn't have to go far, when he hears sniveling and somehow - smells fear and melancholy. It's an odd scent, and he can't describe it to replicate anything.

He rounds the corner slowly and there is a man huddled, pale skin, marred by a staticy black that crawled up their left side, concealing their face partially.

They are lean yet scrawny in some areas, obviously starving. They back up like a feral cat - Jay hopes not with rabies.

"Hi, are you ok?"

"H … hello …" They're in a state of extreme confusion, studying Jay, and - just like a cat, they sniffed the air. His eyes are deeply shadowed, just how Jay's had been before.

The wind changes direction, and the man freaks.

"GET AWAY FROM ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!" They curl up, crying and screaming.

"I'm not going to hurt you! Please, please listen to me!" Jay tries to approach.

He kicks around in the sand, putting a gap between them.

"I can smell it on you. You're trying to hide it but I can fucking tell - I always know, I had to deal with him for years. You can't trick me motherfucker." They begin to hyperventilate.

Jay doesn't come any closer and sits in the sand.

"My name's Jay. I … I got here over a week ago … and I don't know what's going on but I'm working things out…" He speaks clearly and calmly.

The man stares at him, gazing wildly with one hazel eye, one white void on the covered side of his face and something resembling a tall ear or horn sticks up. His hair is longer on the side it's exposed, brown and just past his chin. He's terribly frazzled and smells like B.O and sea salt.

"I really don't know why you're afraid of me, but other people today have been too. I'm trying to understand, if I did - what I did to … trigger this kind of response." The man breathes, then furrows his brow.

"It's not you - Jay. It's what's inside you - that I hate."

He twists his head a slight amount, though Jay isn't overly expressive with his body language.

"The … Hermit? Do you mean the hermit?"

"No … The Magician ."

"But I'm … the hermit?"

"Yes - but I can see the magician - in your chest." Jay lays a hand over his sternum without thinking about it.

"I'm not the magician though I-"

"I can't trust you - understand that, no matter what you say I'll never have a way of knowing. It's nothing personal."

Jay decides to shift the subject.

"H-how did you get to this island? I haven't seen anyone - no one that I haven't known at least."

"I swam … I think … I fell into the ocean. I was … trying to drown myself but …Then I woke up here…"

"Why were you … trying to drown yourself?" Jay asks shyly.

They stare at him again with the wild-side. He's shorter, even more than Tim, but he's still muscular and hadn't wasted away to hunger yet. Jay wasn't going to win if this turned physical and he honestly looked ready to pounce on him. The black bubbles on his face.

 He snaps into loud laughter.

"Haha-hahahahaha! Oh this is just fucking fantastic! Is this one of your new games?" He points. "Couldn't leave me alone, not even - how many times have I tried to kill myself now? FUCKER!" The last part hurts his ears as they stop laughing and screech suddenly.

"I."

"SHUT UP!" The man screams. "You're just another one of his human victims, his play-toys, he's gonna see how much fun he can get out of torturing you and me." He marches forward before Jay can retreat and digs his hands around his neck. Jay chokes, and pulls at the death grip.

"St-op!"

He's pushed to the ground and a fist connected with his mouth.

"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE!?"

He starts beating Jay - and he just takes it. He doesn't know what to do - if he sits still this man will kill him, but if he acts, he'll just make the man more afraid of him.

Blood drops from his nose and the man freezes up. Jay takes the chance to kick him back, and scramble away.

"FUCK!" He screams, about to cry. "He's not even possessing me and he's still controlling me!" 

In response to Jay's danger, the stone statues rushed from the tidal and seized the man, pushing him to his knees, though he didn't put up that much of a valiant effort. At least they weren't harpooning him.

He's just sitting there, encaged in stone, and Jay sits there. It's up to him now, he realizes. But what can he do? He doesn't want to hurt the man. They stare at the ground, hair partially covering their face, only showing the corrupted side.

'What should I do … I can't just leave him here.'

"You can heal the corruption."

"Who-" but he has an idea who said it.

"It's difficult - but I will help you. This may be an important ally we can use …" He doesn't like the air of manipulation, but he does want to help the poor guy.

Jay gets closer and they actually whimper, then stifle it, bearing their teeth and turning away with a snarl.

"Hey … it's gonna be alright." He tries to say, but has no idea what's going on either. He places two hands on the side of his head, and he whips back around so fast it almost throws him off.

"What are you doing!?"

Jay leans his forehead against the others and a blinding light takes over his vision. It sears from the spot, singeing every nerve, but he is stuck in place as if he were being electrocuted. The other is frozen as well, but seems to be in trance, not feeling the effects. 

It burns like hell but he can hear the other voice speaking to him. It's faint, then rises in volume.

"Keep going steady - but be careful, we don't want the corruption to spread."

It feels like he's in a tug o war game, with his soul. He's pulling their soul apart from the stitches of black but in return it's pulling on his soul just as hard.

He's reaching his limit as the last fibers let go and the corruption fizzles without anything to hold on too. 

His grasp is finally released and he falls back with a gasp, collapsing in the sand.

The world is faint and fuzzy.

"Hey, Hey Jay? Dude? You alright?" He hears an unfamiliar voice say, but he doesn't have strength to look up either. They apparently won't get close to him either.

His skin sizzles and fluxes with an indescribable pain, like some potent animal had stung him.

"Jay? That's your name right? I'm sorry man, I really am - I haven't been myself in forever…"

He's barely conscious enough but digs his nails into the ground to steady himself.

"I'm … I'll be ok … just give me a minute."

Jay lies on his side, and the water climbs the beach, soothing at his burns, much to the other man's amazement.

He creeps forward, cautiously poking at Jay. His wounds are fading significantly better here, but he feels ill.

"The creek…" he mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Please…"

Though he seems to understand enough, and loops under Jay's arms, dragging him towards the creek bed. He lets go gently on the bank. Jay places a hand in the water, and flies up to a kneeling position as he wretches a black fluid into the river. It feels better, but acting on it's own, his hand slams over his mouth, holding it back until he's forced to swallow it back down. Once it settles, he feels infinitely better.

He stands up on his own, and looks back at the man.

"I … I'm Jay…" he says.

"... I knew that." The guy Huff's a little laughter.

"What's your name?"

"Oh! Sorry, my name's ... Evan." He hesitates on the actual name part, waiting for something bad to happen.

"Hi … Evan. I … have to get some stuff and go back to my friends … before dark or they'll be upset." He begins to wander but his knees still quake.

"Let me help … did you eat before this?"

"Oh … no I forgot … we were going to have pancakes."

"When did you last eat then!?"

"I think … like a day and a half ago?"

"You can't do that, you're blood sugars gotta be terrible right now!"

"It's good I've for seaweed in the van…"

"No no you should really eat something better than that."

"There's fish in the cave still…"

"Cave?"

He directs Evan towards the area as he stumbles a bit and needs to be supported.

"What the hell did you do? It's kicking your ass!"

"I don't know … I haven't done that before …"

---

Maybe it's a mix of hunger and suspicion but the guy watches Jay with a constant quirk to his brow, never taking an eye off him. Oh well, Jay has to pack stuff anyway, as he bundles up clothes and tools he thinks he might need. Anything he can carry. He stands up finally with a pack haphazardly strapped in his back that is about the size of another person.

"Ok!" He says with a huff, and wanders to the water.

Evan's expression changes from suspicion to 'Wtf are you doing' as Jay waddles into the wake.

"You coming?"

"What are we, swimming?"

"Oh … no it's not that … you'll see … the water does weird things sometimes."

He throws his hands in the air and marches into the surf.

"This some funky shit man… not the weirdest though…"

"Hold on…"

The water bubbles up, and in a flash they're standing, waves knocking into their knees. It's pouring rain here, but at least it's not too cold.

"Oh …" Evan doesn't look too thrilled to be here. They're back at the ark, though it appears a different side of the city, as he sees a clock tower closest to the ocean.

"God I don't know how big this place is …"

He plants his feet towards Evan.

"I don't know exactly uh … where you want to go but there's … stuff … around."

"I've been here before …."

"Oh…"

"This is where I was before … I don't even know how long ago … I just floated around the ocean kind of aimlessly."

"Well, if it helps I have no idea what time is like here … it's stagnant."

"I'll just walk a while."

"Ok".

So they do just that, the street curving inward - hopefully toward the "fountain" which Jay believed to be some kind of center point. Evan looks … uncomfortable. His arms are crossed and he's darting around to every building and window. He wanders behind Jay but also sticks close at the same time. His nervousness grows with every second before he finally bursts the bubble, wiping hands through his hair.

"God if they see me … I don't know what they'll do … probably going to kill me or something…" 

"Are there people you know here?"

"Last time I checked… oh no what if they're gone … that's even worse…"

"Where would they go?" Jay asked genuinely. He had no idea what really lied outside the city.

"I mean gone as in dead . Again …"

They're interrupted by a gnarly looking gray-skinned humanoid creature, eyes glowing from one of the alleyways.

"Motherfucker…" His body goes taught. Jay blinks at the thing, surprised it didn't immediately disappear like every other monster he'd encountered.

While it lurked, it didn't approach.

"I don't think it will bother us…"

"What!? That's literally it's prime motive."

"I think it's because of me … for some reason."

As if it heard, it gives a strange nod, before slinking away as they pass by, undeterred.

Jay still didn't know much of anything about Evan. He seemed like a regular guy who's off his rocker a bit … maybe a lot. He should probably figure out why he's so nervous before walking in blind.

"Why are you afraid of these people? What will they do?"

"Mmph…" he doddled over the question, then answered.

"They're my friends … and I've done some fucked up stuff, I don't want to sugar-coat it."

Jay keeps silent, urging him to continue.

"You've seen enough weird shit … I don't think you'll find this crazy…"

"You're telling me." Jay huffed.

He turns around again, making sure the creature isn't dead set on attacking them.

"This thing, we'll call it that, used me to do a lot of … bad shit. Fucked up, twisted shit, all while wearing me like a human meat suit. And then even when he wasn't I still wasn't acting fucking sane until you zapped me. I was kind of a dick … and I'm afraid that … if I return to see my friends that they won't be able to get rid of that association. I'm always going to be a monster."

Jay feels a pinch at the painful familiarity. He thinks of Alex and grimaces, but they'd divulged a painful memory, it was only right to share his own.

"I had a friend … who was … I guess he was being persuaded, controlled by this monster… drove him insane… he eve - well, killed me … kinda. Killed a lot of other people too. Some people we didn't even know..." Evan stops and looks at him, he fears for a moment he's said something wrong.

"You're saying you were killed?"

"Well, yeah, at least I was shot, and I think I died…"

"So you've died - and been dead." He squints, gesturing with his palms.

"Uh yeahhhh. People die if they get killed …"

Evan's brows furrow even more and he's baring into his soul.

"That doesn't make any damn sense … how did you die? You shouldn't have…"

"I guess the … "hermit" uh … revived me… back on the island actually, that's where I woke up…" Jay scratches his head.

"That … changes things…" Evan covers his mouth thinking.

"Look, I'm still not sure exactly who or what you are but I don't think you're him. Sorry for acting like a douche." He holds his palm out for a handshake, and Jay takes it weakly.

"Who's him? What are you so worried about?"

Evan sighed, "It's better really you don't know. Looks like you're already caught up in enough shit…"

They continued their walk.

"So … what do you think … would they actually …"

"I…. If they're really your friends, I think they'd forgive you. Not like you could control it…"

Then his eyes shift to look at Jay.

"Would you forgive him? Your friend?" 

"..." Jay has to think. The line between what was really "Alex" and what was him being controlled - unclear. But he also sees how alone he must've been … even if he … killed him.

"... I … I would … if he were alive. I wish he was alive… yeah I'd be afraid of him but somewhere there's still "him". The "him" that isn't wasn't under control…"

Evan gives him silence to think in.

"I would think …Your friends miss you. I miss him. So don't go getting yourself killed before you know…"

He kills over the words as they keep walking, and then murmurs, "Thanks …For telling me that …"

"No problem."

The wind carries the scent of iron and fountain spray.

As they round the final bend, they walk up hill, a steep incline, and when Jay reaches it he flinches back suddenly realizing there's another person ahead.

It's the man who was retrieving water from the fountain earlier. On cue he feel's the eyes and rotated so fast he could've spun like a top.

He stares first at Jay in controlled panic, with dark brown hair and glasses, then darting over to Evan who Jay now realizes froze several feet behind him.

"Evan?"

"..." He's stuck, and Jay steps to the side, clearing a path.

The man calmly walks over, though his fists are noticeably clenched and shaking. Evan looks smaller as he hunches, curling into himself. But he doesn't run, bracing himself for what's to come.

It doesn't come.

He's pulled into a vice grip hug. His mouth flexes in a flood of several indiscernible emotions.. First he almost smiles, trying to supress himself, as if he could play it off as all fine. Then he shakes like a seizure, his arms coming to wrap around, but they hover, and he shakes more with the terror of what those hands have done. 

"Where the fuck were you Evan?"

"I … I don't know…"

"Hug me back idiot."

So he gives in and returns the tight hug. He sobs quietly into the other man's shoulder.

"You had no fucking right to disappear like that! Leave everyone!"

"I know ... I know that now ... I thought you all would want me gone ..."

"Evan ... Maybe some had a bit of ill will before, but they've come to understand after all this time ... They miss you. I missed you... I thought you were dead for Christ's sake!"

"I don't know ... I was comatose for so long man ... I just remember today and that's it... How long has it been?"

"... You're serious... Evan it's been over a thousand years..."

"W-what that doesn't ... That doesn't make any sense! It couldn't have been more than a few months!"

"No, you were gone so long, I had trouble remembering exactly what your face looked like ..."

"But ... But you didn't forget me?"

"No. I never could. Not after what we've been through. Even if your face goes all blurry on me, I still remember 'Evan'." He breaks down into more sobs and the man pats his back roughly.

There's another man, approaching - they look Jay up and down but seem mostly confused, focused on the 

"Vinnie who's th-" They stop their sentence and rush forward into the hug. The guy's taller than both and duck his head in Evan's hair.

There's a few others that appear next. They ignore Jay and run over. The man's a bit flushed from all the attention, and Jay feels happy for him, giving a small smirk with a twitch of his mouth.

They're speaking hushed amongst themselves, in a mix of sadness and relief. Evan gestures at Jay and they all turn.

They look at him with conviction filled glares and Jay immediately wants to leave. He's had enough today, he wants to be in the comfort of Tim and Brian's presence. There are too many people, too many eyes staring at him, and he needs to take these supplies back to his friends.

He begins to shuffle away, waving goodbye at Evan.

"Hey." He turns around to the man named "Vinnie" walking towards him.

'Oh god here comes a fight…'

Vinnie stops a few feet in front of him, and seems to study Jay over.

"I don't know what you are … or if this is some kind of trick but … Thank you."

It was meant as a compliment but it doesn't feel that way. He thinks about getting angry, but it's just not in him, though he doesn't want to just say "it's no problem" and leave like he usually would. Because it was a problem. There was only a mix of fear, hate, and suspicion in their eyes. But in a few … he sees pity. And that hurts the worst. He doesn't want to be around people. He just wants Brian and Tim. This is probably how Evan feels. How Alex felt. Like a monster. He needs to cling to the last people he had. Who trusted him.

He realizes he was standing there blankly for a good minute, and the man in front of him waits with bated breath. Jay looks dejected at the ground, then wrings his wrist as he always does when he's nervous. What does he do? He can't lie, but he doesn't want to be an asshole, and he doesn't want to start another argument. He's tired and frustrated and it choked him when he thinks ' This is probably what Tim feels like too. Alone.' And he didn't even know what he did wrong.

He sniffs, wiping his face with his jacket sleeve when a tear threatens to fall, turns with a jerk and starts to swiftly walk away in shame.

"Jay? Hey wait-"

"Evan stop!" Vinnie whisper-yells and blocks his way.

"Let go of me Vin, look I'm just as confused as you are but he's not a threat!"

"He could be playing a game, you know he enjoys that shit, we don't even know if Jay's a real person..."

"But he's really a good guy Vinny! I know he's real."

"You don't know that! You know -" but Jay doesn't want to listen anymore and walks out of earshot.

Chapter Text

Flashback

(Vinny)

A few years prior, yet also thousands...

That monster really had followed them all the way here. They'd gotten some second chance - suddenly alive again, no time wasting. They followed Habit's roots and found it to be the same place the tall faceless man came from. They were very far down the proverbial rabbit hole. They'd been safe for a few weeks. But they knew that he'd be back. 

Of course it was in Evan's body. Why wouldn't it be? Just because they knew they couldn't stand up to Habit didn't mean they weren't going to damn well try. And besides - they had a plan. Vinny stood by the fountain and it's not even a full ten seconds after Habit entered the center circle of the city that he was surrounded. 

Vinny didn't want to watch, because he knew all of these people would just be slaughtered. A bunch of idiots in fire suits. But Habit doesn't move. He tried, momentarily. Then-

"VINNY, WHAT DID YOU DO HUH!?" But something's changed, he was bluffing . So Vinny stays put. His face contorts into rage.

"VINNY YOU BETTER FUCKING DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS OR I'M GOING TO KILL YOU. IT WON'T EVEN BE FUNNY!" He ignores the powerful compulsion, the fear, to obey Habit's order. He has too, for Evan.

It dawns on him now that Habit can't move. Then the one known as the devil broke through the crowd and Habit was stuck in place by some arcane symbol.

"Think you can just waltz into my MY house and do whatever the fuck you want!?"

"WHO ARE YOU?."

"You know perfectly well who I am bitch - there's only one thing that can outsmart you."

"I'M NOT REALLY DIGGING THE VISUAL EFFECTS, THOUGH YOU'VE CERTAINLY GOT MY ATTENTION."

"Hate to break it to you, but these are no effects, sunshine!"

"FUCK YOU."

"Much obliged."

And then a metal bar cracked through Evan's skull and Vinny almost shouted. But with a burst of light, the weapon was retrieved and Evan convulsed a purple liquid out. He fell to the ground, and in a single file line, his body was pulled into the formation of soot covered uniforms. 

The purple bubbled and molded, growing to tower over the crowd.

Mankind's Bad HABIT. In the flesh.

Habit was terrifying in his real form, which showed in this realm. A large maniacal and gnarly jackrabbit with purple eyes and a jaw of razor sharp canines, so much so his mouth couldn't shut all the way. Writhing bug-like arms protruded from his back, along with hellish black vines. But it was over before he had even made a step towards Vinny. "What if your shit did the opposite of what you wanted!" The devil yelled, stumbling back like they're hit with a load of bricks. His powers are reflected back onto him. He teleports and ends up back in the same spot. He tried to shift dimensions and always ended back in the same spot. All with the devil laughing in Habit's own voice. Mocking the demon.

Or apparently. Mocking the Angel. 'The Magician'. He was certainly nothing angelic in attitude or appearance.

There are nets and wires, kerosene and fire, and Habit fights back but only swings at smoke. His many eyes are stabbed out and his strength might as well be matched with all of the firefighters, who act as one body.

Vinny knows what they really are. Partially. And so he doesn't think about it, rather calls them "firefighter's", even though they're nothing of the sort. They burn and kill and chop and bleed and they all move how Habit moves, only a monster can beat a monster.

He sees Habit finally stall. He's bleeding indigo and is impaled from all sides. He can't die. But he has still been defeated.

Vinny almost passes out then and there from the shock. It's over.

"And you really thought you were a match for The Tower huh? Even I was able to beat you! How did you ever expect to stand up to him?" They were so much smaller than Habit and looked up at him as they jeered in his face. One eye had healed enough, pupil at a prick, staring at 37 like they were his next meal.

With a puff of smoke he's gone, imprisoned somewhere in the bellows of the ark.

"Well, I'd say that about wrap's it up today… we'll begin his assessment tomorrow. Right now I'm going for a beer."

"I thought you couldn't-" And they're gone too, and then the other firefighter's as well until it is down to the few that were treating Evan. Vinny prefers observation over action first, but he realizes Habit isn't a threat anymore and he's actually allowed to move on his own accord. So he approaches Evan. He looks like shit. But alive. His eyes are open but he doesn't seem to register anything. 

"Vinny I'm a bad person…"

"Just … get some rest Evan, ok?"

But he doesn't.

He doesn't rest, only cries.

He managed to escape in the middle of the night despite their best efforts. He didn't come back. Vinny finally feels the anger he suppressed. For all the things, he was going to make Habit pay for that especially. For taking Evan away from him.

And then the day of the "Trial" comes. It's a rather big cliffside but it's only them - Vinny, Jeff, and Steph are the only ones that came to watch.

They're down below on the beach, and the devil sits behind a desk, though they have no actual paperwork in front of them. They sit playing with a knife.

They insist that Habit has a chance to give his own testimony, in which he chooses to berate the everliving shit out of the "judge" for half an hour, though it's useless because essentially Habit was arguing with himself. A part consited of a solid five minutes of them yelling "No, Fuck you" back and forth. Vinny wipes his face, almost forgetting this is the demon that tortured him for years on a loop and rather thinks he's serving jury duty. 

Finally they get around to things.

"Now we could spend years reading off every damn crime you've ever done but I've got to get back in time for my 20 hour nap. But the question I'm struggling with is how to sentence you effectively."

"So you going full Ohio on my ass or we gonna do a New Jersey life sentence?"

"No, death is nothing too you … life is nothing to you, imprisonment is nothing to you, and any kind of physical torture we could inflict you have both endured and committed… you simply do not care." 

Vinny isn't sure whether the fact Habit has been tortured gives him any sanctity. He decides it doesn't. Even he wasn't so sadistic to want to inflict torture… he wonders if his life had continued the same way, if he would've broke that resolve and become just as evil.

A loud snap brought his attention back.

"You know, I've got an idea. Yes this would work splendidly…"

They pulled their feet off the desk, embedding the dagger into the mahogany and hoisting the "Hooligan Bar", as they put it, over their shoulder.

"How do we make the personification of evil feel the weight of his sins? Well, what usually trump's evil is having a heart. You lack the aforementioned."

They leaned right in front of the dripping jaws.

"Habit, for every crime you've committed, I assign the punishment that you will receive a consciousness to actually think about the shit you did. Whether you once had one and lost it or you've never felt at all, doesn't fucking matter. After this, you're free to do what you please!"

The three tense at that - surely they can't be serious? They wouldn't just let Habit terrorize them!

"Oh wow I'm so scared~"

"Yeah you probably are going to be!" They breathed in.

"Habit, what if you had a heart?" 37 collapses back, which Habit laughs at - for a second - and then his face drops, his eyes darting in panic.

"What did you… Oh dear God…"

He starts screaming. It's so terribly loud and painful. It is in no way "satisfying." There is no reversing what Habit did and this was making it even worse. The creature starts disemboweling itself, Habit's trying to kill himself. But of course it doesn't work, because he can't die here. Jeff covers his ears and starts crying. The screaming is unholy. But 37 makes no motion to stop this episode. They still seem to be recovering on the ground, and they're cackling.

"HA HA HA HA HAAAA! ISN'T THIS A HILARITY!" They jump up and kick at the monster.

"You know - there was always this one human I couldn't get to. They died before I could have my vengeance. Before there was any trial to conviction. But Habit! You've probably done similar things as this person, so watching this shit fest is a bit redeeming - just have to picture their ugly face on your ugly face right?"

"If there's one damn thing in my book that I respect you for, it would be that you didn't hurt the fucking cats - that's the only reason I ain't lynching you!"

It's fucking sick. Habit is reduced to a shivering mass, purple blood oozing from where he teared at his flesh. He's sobbing. And it's disgusting. It's absolutely disgusting. Vinny wanted to throw up.

He wonders what Evan would think.

Chapter Text

He briskly walks through the cold sprinkle, arms folded. He needed time to process this … alone, and the frigid temperature helps a bit.

"Tim!"

Well, maybe walking with Jay wouldn't be too bad. He offers to help carry some of the stuff, and they travel in mutual silence.

Jay looks ahead as they walk downhill into a larger street, with various buildings ahead. He doesn't really know where they're going, and that's ok. 

Gorgeous. That's a good word for it. The drizzle covered the city, a fog just thick enough to blur the sky, but yellow lights, street lamps, glowed through the oppressing water droplets. Warmth in the cold drizzle. He walked along aside Tim - who seemed to inch closer and closer every block or so. He told himself it was just because he was cold - Mr. "I don't need a jacket."

"Do you want to borrow my jacket?"

"What-?" Tim jumped over a bit noticing how close he'd gotten.

"You look cold."

"No no I'm fine."

"I think you're fibbing~" He said with a goofy voice.

"You'll never get it out of me."

Jay rolls his eyes, and Tim kind of regrets not taking the coat. 'Maybe it would've smelled like Jay…' He gulps.

He looks back at Jay, and back to his hands. Jay. His hands. Jay. His hands. Jay seems normal right now, staring ahead with his usual lidded eyes. But the heavy words of the devil weigh on him. His job is to worry anyway. And he's reached an aggravating moral dilemma.

Tell Jay what he learned. Or don't.

If he lies again, he's just repeating it all over again. Lies got them separated last time. But if he tells, he risks Jay worrying over something he hasn't even fully investigated yet. What if Jay reacts badly? What if he freaks out? And there's another terrible thought. What if he's put in danger? What if … it's supposed to be a secret? He needs to ask someone for help, but who? Brian, maybe but … he wouldn't know anything else either… it would just be another person having to lie to Jay. Tim didn't want to put Brian in that position.

He … has to lie. Bile rises in his throat. He can't tell, not until he knows Jay is safe, that this thing inside him wasn't planning some horrible sabotage. He knew this would probably end bad, but he'd do everything in his power to avoid that. Yes. If he treads carefully, he can work this out.

He looks over to see Jay frowning off into the void.

"Hey, you good?"

"Oh yeah … something just happened earlier …"

"Like what?"

And in Jay's head, he fears telling Tim what had happened. That Jay might also be some kind of psycho monster. He can't tell him. If he does, what if Tim leaves him? He'll lose the last two people he has. No. No that's not an option.

"Nothing … nothing you need to worry about."

"It seems to be bothering you though…"

"I'm fine Tim."

Tim knows that's a lie, but he can't push him or he'll be a hypocrite.

'God, Jesus, Satan, Fuckin … Hammurabi? Somebody help us.'

---

They're back in their little hideout. Sorting gear and a bunch of snack bars Brian stole from the store. They're having a little party sprawled out on the floor, where they play a simple game of war. Jay clocks out rather early in the evening, curling up with an old ratty quilt on the mattress. When he's certain he's asleep, Tim rubs a hand through his hair. Jay opens his mouth, drooling comfortably.

The sun is setting, drawing long shadows across the room, and Brian looks sternly at him, pulling out a notepad, chock full of writing. He'd almost forgotten!

"You sure … you want me to read this?"

He nods.

Brian leans against the window sill, hiding his face against the glass panes. Tim opens the first yellowed page, like some kind of scripture. 

He reads.

---

Flashback

200X, Brian 

 He jolts awake.

"Tim!?" That was the last thing he remembered seeing. Brian's never been this scared in his life he thinks. Any sense of composure or humor is replaced by terror. Maybe he would cry if there was time for that. He's in a thick black woods, ground covered in mulch. He shudders, and feels blood caked to the back of his skull and it hurts there. Blood is crusted over to his face too, and he wipes his nose. But lifting his hand to do so he hits something, he angles his head to look in front of him. On the forest floor in front of him is Seth. Eyes gray and dead. 

"AH!" He flies back, kicking wood chips. His skin is pale and dead and his neck is deeply bruised, strangled.

"Oh my god … Sarah!? Please no no no…" he rushes over to the body, and turning her over, finds a bullet holes right through her head.

He covers his mouth to stop a wail. 

A few steps away is Amy, Alex's girlfriend, shot through the chest, with a mix of hurt plastered to her face before death.

Fuck. Where's Tim? Where's Alex? He runs into the woods. He fears finding them though, what if they're dead too? No …

"... So you're awake already … huh…." He turns at Alex's voice.

"Alex! Where the hell are we!? What's going on."

"Brian … you should've stayed down …Just play dead … It's easier that way."

"Where's Tim! Alex what did you do!?"

He feels the presence of that thing behind him. The crowbar that had smacked him over the head. It pressed at his back and didn't stop pushing. Oh god he doesn't want to see this again! Please!

He wakes up, clawing at his chest. Nothing is impaling him. Nothing is hurting him. He is safe in the bog. Because he's not human anymore. Atleast, not partially. 

But he has a job to do.

To the ark.

His mission.

December 2010, ???

The lines of who is Brian, and who is Eadala had blurred down. They were one creature, most of the time. And who's memories were who's? Indiscernible. They can't even speak the same language but they can feel. They feel eachother's thoughts and emotions, and work it out that way. Though Eadala takes charge most of the time. He couldn't let Brian out. Not just yet.

March 2013, Eadala

Alex ambushed him, but the two were prepared.

"Where did they go!? Where are Jay and Tim!?"

It was both of them now both sides of his face twitching into a human, not-quite human, smile.

And it was in two voices, which Ead could understand, that they spoke.

"They're far from here … you'll never find them again." But the camera doesn't pick it up. It never does. Distorted static is the only thing that dribbles through.

"Wipe that stupid smile off your face."

He hits the assailant and flees.

He was extremely broken, crazy, but it felt alright. He could run into the woods and know it was his home ground. For now. For now he could disappear into mangrove bogs. His recklessness would cost him.

January 2014, Eadala

It's quiet on the front. But the tower still searches. To squash out his remaining foes.

The Hermit, The Wheel of Fortune, The Star, The emperor and empress, and the high priestess. He'd imprisoned them all before they could wake up. But The Moon, Alqamar, still remained. And he, Justice. The Tower hadn't caught him yet. Brian is still alive. For now.

But Eadala makes an unwise choice in his desperation. They are down to two members. And one will not cooperate. So it's up to him, he thinks, as he wanders into the tower's realm.

Maybe … maybe he could end it here. He wasn't strong, but he was quick. Maybe he could. Maybe. It was better than waiting around for someone to show themselves. He could kill them himself.

He was wrong. Caught in the heat of trouble. The tower's squeezes and strangles the life out of him. He was going to die if he didn't do something now.

He let out a crescendoing scream. The last one he ever would. Pressing that thing back, back. He hated him. His throat cracked and shattered with the force, but it was enough. He escaped with his life.

But not with his voice. A fatal wound has been dealt and he glitches into fragments. One second he's in the mangroves, trying to heal the wound in his sternum, and the next he had to leave as the swamps would cave under him. A distortion in his body also affected the rest of him, and his home. 

He'd never felt more alone and helpless.

2014, Eadala

He couldn't believe this guy! He'd done everything and still this man refused to give in. He was pulling straws at this point. So he did the last thing that he could think of, backing over the window sill. It scared Brian though, hand reaching up to stop the fall. Looking at Tim one last time, he understood this plan.

"I trust you bastard." And he let go.

He waited there in agony, he just needed that man to see his face. But he didn't. He searched his pockets and took off. He soon knew why.

'Shit.' He was vulnerable now and the monster was here. So he left for the mangroves. He hated it here. No longer a safe haven after he'd been injured, the swamps threatening to crash underneath him at any moment. Nothing was solid here. But he had no choice. Stay long enough to let the wounds heal, and get the hell out.

He sits in a place between Earth and the ark. His gate is ruined. He's in a state of constant flux, for who knows how long. And then a door opens. And there is a familiar feeling this way. Alnassik. He wanted to weep. He hadn't forgotten him! He really did come back! But when he arrives on the island, wounds mending, he runs into none other than Jay Merrick - not Alnassik. And he has no idea if this is supposed to be happening. Is Jay allowed to know now? Does he know? Eadala has no idea and takes off to try and hide, much to Jay's chagrin as he chases him all over the place.

But Brian, Brian speaks for once. He is so terribly alone. They both are. If Jay has made it to this island, it means Alnassik is awake. Jay would be safe to approach. The monsters didn't lurk here. And he could defend himself properly now. So with debate, they decided, to at least check on Jay. See if he was corrupted. Surely the tower would've driven him to such points by now, no? But upon inspection, there is nothing. He is clean of the tar.

.

.

.

What they both failed to realize, was that Brian's soul was already corrupting, well hidden, but soon, if nothing was done, it would take over. One more bad event may push him over the edge.

---

Tim stays up a while past Brian, who had passed out next to Jay about an hour ago. He's meticulously pouring over the notes, absorbing every detail provided. He almost wishes he had reading glasses and a pen to tap against his mouth.

It's … incredible … and awful. There's so much information here though. Brian had been conscious most of the time, unlike Tim. His experience was invaluable. With this he could better understand himself, and Jay. Though how to actually help Jay was a mystery. Was it possible for him to tap into these "otherworldly powers"? That could provide something to use against the operator. If he could learn it that is. He wants to protect them most of all. And stop waking up with no memory. He wants to retain something . His brain is exhausted from storming and he finds sleep easy to come by when he carefully lays between Brian and Jay, propping his sore leg up on a pillow.

He hopes for the day where he can feel comfortable wrapping himself up to Jay and Brian. But for now, he falls asleep on his back, fisting a blanket with too many tears in it to provide any cover.

---

It's late in the night, and his eyelashes gently stir in the pale room light. A ghostly breath pasts his lips. He rotates his head. Tim and Brian sleep peacefully. He moves in a long t-shirt he used for Pj's, barefoot on the wood planks. He wraps himself, concealing his identity with a blanket. Step, by teetering step. Towards the door. Descending the stairs. Step by step.

Walking in the night air. Feet cold on brick and slab pavement. Step, by step. Pale ankles, heels and soles making contact with the road. Step, by step, by step, by step.

There is no one and nothing. The streetlights are dark, some broken. Only Jay's shadow stretches far behind him as he is pulled to some location. No eyes witness him from the window panes, only the antiquated objects. Trinkets, hats, furniture. Each building a treasure trove. But this isn't the treasure he seeks.

Gliding across the moore, cool night wind buffeting the quilt hood. His feet against long grass. He vaguely knew where he was going in this entranced state. Back to the temple. He stands at the precipice of the pit, then steps out and falls. There are bells singing to him, air currents churning in the large chasm in a haunted melody.

Before the bottom, he slows, his toes making gentle contact.

The water chants to him, wailing and whistling, as it ripples around his toes. His reflection glows like the moon, but his eyes are closed.

His eyelids rise in slowed time. Blue eyes now dark and hollow.

There - in a beam of moonlight. A large, white, pristine egg. He gently traced nimble fingers over the shell, and carefully, so carefully, bundled it in the fabric. Such a beautiful thing. He would protect this egg. He would hatch it - and then …

He would eat it.

Chapter Text

(??? Pov)

Hunger hunger hunger…………………………

…………………….Did something bad. Hunger.

Shoot them………………………………………..

Did something bad.………Amy...………………

Something bad.…………………………………..

………………………………………Evil evil evil. Hungry. Hungry.…………………………………..

Smell blood. Hungry. Hungry. Jay. Did something bad. Brian. Sarah. Seth……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Did something bad. Bad. Bad. Sky. Tree. Dirt. Dirt. Dirt. Dirt. Water. Dirt. Sky. Sky. Sky. Cloudy. Building. Stone. Stone. Stone. Stone. Did something bad. Jay? Jay.

Tim. Blood. Blood. Blood.

Fire. Did something bad.

Tree. Tree. Grub. Yum. Worm. Yum. Hungry. Smell. Crow. Crow man. Man. Deer. Run Away. 

Jay Jay. Did something bad. Jay. 

.

.

.

Who am I?

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

---

Toby's awakened from his floor bed by Harvey squawking madly, and he blinks to see none other than a corrupted soul in the room. This one has feathers poking out of its arms. Jessica is not in the room and he lets out a sigh of relief, before picking up his hatchet.

As he prepares a blow, it turns.

He stops. It's eyes - rather than perfect circles - slouch and droop in misery.

It fingers at the bars of the cage and manages to unhinge the lock, as it pulls out a black, speckled egg.

It's mouth opens, stretchy black strands where it parts.

"ehhhhhhhhhhh-" It's strained but audible.

"Hey! You can talk!? Wow!"

"Eh"

"What does 'eh' mean?"

"eeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggggggg" It suddenly took Harvey's egg and started shoving it in its staticy mouth.

"HEY NO THAT'S HARVEY'S EGG!" Without hesitance he started wrestling the egg out of the things arms.

"EHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGG." They sound distraught, but made no move to attack.

"I'LL GET YOU SOME OTHER FOOD OK?"

"GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG"

It rolls around on the floor.

He walks backwards out of the room, and runs to the elevator.

Toby wandered the vegetable garden, searching for food. ' I don't know what corrupted souls eat … besides eggs apparently.'

He pushed the dirt aside with his gloves around and pulled some potatoes out, brushing them off. Returning inside, he knocked at the kitchen shutters. The toad chef opened.

"Um hi - could I have these potatoes cooked? Dd-doesn't matter how, anything's fine ..."

They stared at him for a moment- then croaked, and took the potatoes, shutting the doors.

Toby walked around the lobby, nervously eyeballing the bell hob - which he was 90 percent sure was a cat … or a bat? - under the uniform. He was wondering where Jessica was, if not down in the lobby, and decided to go peak around.

---

Jessica opened the room door and held back a gasp, a corrupted soul standing standing in the middle of the room. They stare at one another. Then … they made a strange sound, emitting from their throat like …. Sobbing. Jessica was about to close the door and get help, but it spoke.

"eeeesssseeejjjj" But she made a quick translation.

There's only one person that ever called her "Jesse". But it couldn't be. Because that person was missing … oh who is she kidding - dead. Amy is dead. There was a slight hope that she was alright, and just missing. But when Alex turned the gun on her in that tunnel, she had a feeling about what happened to several others.

It's mouth cracked, and it's fingers scratch white scars under its eyes.

"alive….." it trills. Jessica looked closer. Now that she was thinking about it, their body did appear more feminine, with sharp needle-like protrusions extending from the back of their arms. Feathers, she thinks.

It whimpers like a sad puppy, grabbing Jessica when her guard is down. It shakes her shoulders, and her eyes travel over to the mirror behind it. A woman with light blonde hair was reflected. It couldn't be. But it was.

"A-amy!? Is that you?" She said quietly, afraid to tempt fate.

"aaacciiissseeejjj… jjjjjesssssiiiiicccccaa"

"Oh … my … how, what happened?" Tears choked in her throat, as she returned the embrace, despite the risks involved.

"corrupt they will take us soon" 

She pulled back.

"I… who's taking you?"

"taking our souls for profit"

"Amy, who!?"

"they will take us to the white door we will be gone soon from here"

"What do you need me to do?" Amy's hands, partially covered in black staticy feathers, held her own.

"don't follow us you can still be saved"

"No, wait Amy, what are you talking about? You're right here with me, I can help you! And what do you mean be us? Who's us?" She fired a mile a minute.

"know soon secrets everywhere" Amy's hand rubs at her cheek softly, "cannot do not follow you … must … live"

"Amy … Please don't go away, we can stop them from taking you wherever ok? Don't talk like that! Come with me, I know someone who can help!"

Toby opens the door to find Jessica with the creature, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands folded together. He stalls, but doesn't attack.

There's a burst of static from Amy's chest cavity, and she shreds an object from her core. It's a white mask, with a distinct sheen, swirling nonsensical blue lines, and colorful feathers like some kid's art project glued to the sides. She hands it over.

"live"

Backing away, the ghost is consumed by a  burst of light and smoke, Amy is gone.

"Toby. We have to find her." She spits out. He freezes up, eyes darting back and forth. 

"Alright … I'll follow you wherever." 

Chapter Text

Jessica marches down the corridor into the lobby with Toby in tow.

"Good morning." Mr. Crow says from behind the counter.

"Sir did you see, that corrupted soul!? Where did it go? We need to find her!" 

"Calm down, calm down, I was just about to address that - though unusual, souls have gotten into the hotel before, I don't know where they went, and finding her may not be a recommended course of action."

"Look she's my friend, thing or not, she didn't try to hurt us! And she talked too!" She left out the part about the mask.

His beady eye studied the ground, thoroughly thinking it over.

"If you're going to go after another, it is better to deal with your own corruption first."

"Ok sooooo … how do I fight it?"

"Ha!" He let out a caw of laughter.

"Your soul, Ms. Locke, is not … like the ones you've encountered. Not as … corporeal. With corruption the souls have an almost unlimited plethora of anomalies which they can commit. Before you go after your own, I think it's best you both see for yourselves, the types of things these less-than-humans can do. If you're ready that is…"

Jessica gave him a determined glare.

"Shall we?" He gestures to the elevator, and with a moment of debating glares, they stepped in. Mr. Crow didn't follow, but as the lift stopped, and opened to a dark, decrepit forest, he stood in the fog and dead leaves.

"Follow me."

They flow just like the mist over the dirt floor, and the black-barked trees. Jessica can't help but notice that Mr.Crows feet barely move . He doesn't walk, more glides. Sure they had the heads of animals, but the rest of their bodies … Were always covered. Even the deceased guests. All gloves and sleeves, not a loose bit hanging out to indicate anything. It was … creepy. Unnerving. But she also had to remind herself that they still, essentially, acted like people. Off-putting in the way some orangutans could learn sign language and understand many advanced things … human but not human.

Fortunately, and unfortunately, she was distracted by the growing fog, water droplets thick in her throat. Toby's ears and nose twitched like a rabbit, vision compromised.

"Followin' us…" Toby whispered.

She nods her head but stays silent. There are no crickets or birds here, only the sound of distant wind. The trees extended up into the fog endlessly. The canopy was invisible.

Soon, it all looked the same. Even Mr. Crow, a few feet ahead, was becoming obscured. 

It's not until he's nearly invisible that they stop.

There is an angry cracking, and a small explosion. Popping. A tree nearby bursts open, wood shards flying.

"The water is freezing inside the trunks." Mr. Crow explains.

"It's not … that cold…"

"It's a couple of degrees above absolute zero, dear. But you're safe. For now."

Then, like a reaper, a horseman of the apocalypse, a solidly formed silhouette pushes through the haze, a few feet taller than Jessica. It's eyes appear like headlights, shining down on them. Atop it's head, an enormous and impressive rack of antlers twisted and splitting into several paths like creeping vines. It is at least half their own size. It falls a few meters short of Mr. Crow, radiating what could best be described as "Mega-Pissed" energy.

"Well, that wasn't too hard to find. Guess he really doesn't like you. Or me. Pity. That there is my great-great-great nephew - I honestly forgot how many greats there were, he's too much of a prick for me to care. Shit literally happened more than a century ago."

"Ok but what's his name?"

"Oh, his name was Albert. Also known as  Deranged Man, Psychotic twat, And 'you got beat by a cripple you old fuck' But I believe the Americans would call him: 'An asshole.'"

"This can't possibly get worse."

"It most certainly can. Ahem. IDA NEVER LOVED YOU TO ANYWAY!"

Now it was - somehow - even more pissed off.

"Have fun." And he disperses in a sound of wings flapping. 'Asshole.'

Their job was to observe … well they were looking at it. What now?

But it was obvious "Albert" had played this song and dance before. He was ever-threatening with the full rack of antlers, and the way the forest warped and contorted to his will. 

With a twitch, he teleports closer to them, head manically shaking in rage. 

"YEET!" Toby decides now is a good time to land a blow. But the air freezes, and so does the weapon.

What the hell was that!?" Jessica yelled.

"It's not my fault!"

The corrupted soul plucks the hatchet. Then like butter, bludgeons a tree down. 

"Spread out!" Commands Toby as they hide.

With an opening she runs to where Toby was situated.

Accept …He wasn't. She looks around, runs a bit. Nothing.

"Toby!?" ' Shit.' He's gone. She's alone. Besides Albert.

She decides to make a break for it - find the edge of the forest and regroup with Toby. But this was ridiculous! Weren't they just supposed to learn what they could do? What else does it do!?

Whilst running through heavy fog, The answer reveals itself rather quickly.

The forest is sideways now, and she balances on the endless trunk. A headless deer falls from somewhere above, along with stones and statues, etched with symbols. An old, empty coffin. A whole church smashes above her, boulders and metal falling around her. She clutches to the branch until it has all moved by.

The forest shakes again, and it's upside down. She wrapped her arms and legs in a bear grip.  But the tree above her cracks.

The horned man tears through the trunk.

"Oh please don't…"

It breaks, and she falls into the endless sky, screaming.

She hits a crystalline and thin web, breaking her fall. As she collides with it, all the glistening dew catapults into the air like a diamond shower. 

She recognizes, now, where she is.

Rosswood. 

But it's not Rosswood exactly. The sky's red and dark, like she could see at night. She hears a snapping of twigs, and without her control, she surged forward. 

Now, she was the one chasing herself and Jay through the woods, gun in hand. And it's not her voice but Alex's, yelling incoherent static when she speaks.

Sunlight - she bursts through to the edge of the forest, next to the late  and the corruption seeps back in fear of the sun. She looks out at the lake.

Jay stands, in a dress -

A familiar dress, actually - it's the same one that dead woman had been wearing… the one who fell out of the clock.

His eyes are closed. Behind him a shadow creeps out.

"Jay lookout!"

BANG

His eyes shoot open and a spot opens on his stomach. He falls back into the water.

"Jay!" She thrashed forward into the lake, kicking around, but there is not a body to be found. Instead, a black cube rises in his place.

"This a warning." A voice says to her, but she doesn't panic hearing it, rather a calming sensation like warm milk, like an old friend.

"What kind of warning?"

"For the future, for the past, for something that has already happened."

Her brain turns and turns and stops.

"What - what do you mean by that? Hey! What does that mean!?"

But she falls forward into the black cube, revealing a cabin sitting on the lake's edge.

She regains her bearings just as the voice comes back.

"We are intruders here. The owner will be back soon. We must get out." With that the wooden walls crack and splinters with black marks of ashes and skulls, shaking the structure. She rushes around, spying first a green gem which she picks up. Anything useful at this point.

A paper, stapled to a tree, depicted an arrangement of items, a diamond, a coin, an apple, an eye, and a shell. 

"The past is never dead, not even past.", reads the paper.

She tears into the drawers and cupboards as if she's done this a hundred times before, grabbing the objects as they make themselves known. The building is screeching now, the water outside churning and bubbling, she shakes hastily on the floor as she places down the shell first. The corrupted body of Albert rises from the lake, pulling itself onto the dock end, just as she sets the last item in place.

Nothing happens.

"Replace the diamond with the emerald," The voice speaks, and there's no time to question. She swaps it out and conks the heavy diamond at the things forehead. There's a bright green flash, as a pentagram-like web holds the creature back. She turns, and can see the elevator behind the creaking wall boards. She tears them open and rushes in, spamming the button and slamming the metal gate behind her.

She breathes.

"Holy …" She slides to the floor of the lift, rezoning herself with the clinking of pulleys and cable wire.

'Jay.' She'd left Jay behind. Or atleast, some kind of apparition.

"What do you mean by something that's already happened!?" She shouts.

"Answer me! Please! What happened to Jay!?"

But there is no answer. She's left in the dark.

A few minutes of a pitch black shaking, she steps back into the lobby of the hotel, wobbling like she has the bends.

"You did it!" Toby surges forward, hands clenched in joy, and almost jumping off the floor.

"Well done. I believe you're ready. Would you like to wait a bit or continue from here?"

"I…."

She sinks to the floor.

"I'm just gonna lay here for a second and reevaluate my life choices…"

"That's alright, take your time." Mr. Crow walks off with a tap of his cane.

Toby stares down at her, until she rolls onto her back.

"Hi!" He waves. But something behind him takes her attention. The ceiling is … moving.

"AHHHHHHHHH!" She points - Toby looks, "WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK" and they're both screaming.

The ceiling is a giant green and blue eye, staring down at them. It blinks, eyelashes fluttering.

"Oh so you've finally looked up I see! Yes that's quite normal." 

Their screaming wanes into a small crying noise.

"Don't hurt her feelings now, if she cries you're cleaning up the mess."

"She!?"

"Yes. Her name is Laura."

"Uh … H-Hi?" Jessica gives a little wave, and the eye blinks in acknowledgement. 

She stands, all the while the sensation of staring burns into her skull, and brushes herself off.

"Well … I don't know if I'm ready but, I'd rather get it over with then put it off …"

"Excellent decision. There will be a boat ready within the hour, I suggest recouping before it is time."

She smiles nervously.

"Great."

Chapter Text

It's a quiet afternoon as they're ferried across the lake - Mr. Crow slowly steers the gondola as they glide. From here they can get a good view of the hotel. It's definitely one whole island, and it shines beautifully off the water, like a white castle with copper roofs now turquoise with age.

"It's a lovely building … who owns it?"

"The hotel is run by yours truly, Mr. Owl, also the proprietor of our state of the art mental health treatment."

"Which you also murder people in…" Jessica deadpanned.

"Correct. In order to keep the lake satisfied, sacrifices must be made. See, this area runs on paganism."

"I noticed a private room on the top floor, it's always occupied, is that where he lives?"

"Yes, his retreat."

"Are we ever going to meet him?" Toby asks, surprising Jessica.

"No, you don't want to meet Mr. Owl."

"Why not?"

"Well first, he's quite a busy man, and second, the fastest way to meet him is adorning your skull on a plaque."

".... Ok."

"Besides, Mr. Owl says you're only temporary guests." 

"Aren't all guests -" Toby began before Jessica slaps a hand over his mouth.

"I understand why we're guests, but not how we're here." Jessica speaks over Toby.

"Because, and I qoute '"Some dumb author bitch really likes this series.'"

"What?"

"Did you say something? I didn't say anything." The Crow winked.

"Whatever…"

The boat gently hits the opposite bank of the lake, and they step out with a wobble, almost falling back in the mud. Mr. Crow simply appears behind them on the grassy beach.

"I believe this is the closest land point to the necessary location." He taps his cane, then points it to a spot in the water.

"You will have to make this journey alone. This is a journey into your mind - Mr. Rodgers won't be able to follow."

"So what do I like ... meditate?" 

"Oh, if only it were that easy my dear." He lowers the cane and raises his opposite arm.

"Down there." Gloved finger pointing at the lake.

She blanks out for a second, then speaking, "... Scuba diving?"

The crow man let out a caw of laughter.

"No … no you can swim down yourself. It's not that far."

"But … that sign said it was more than 50 meters deep!"

"Measurement is irrelevant to the lake. It will be as deep as you feel it is.

"But why is my soul … down there?"

"Most souls tend to congregate in the lake… I believe yours is less bloodthirsty, more - in a constant state of panic. Unlike Mr. Rodger's."

"But the soul is also in my head?"

"Yes."

Jessica sighs, "Yeah that seems about right for this place."

"Is that firefighter person a corrupted soul?" Toby blurts out.

"Who?" The other two say in unison.

"The dude in the … old ass … fire thingy."

"I don't remember seeing that." Jessica says.

"Oh … I think it was before I met you…"

Mr. Crow cuts in, "They wouldn't have happened to have a - sarcastic inclination…"

"I don't … I don't think so, but they did have a voice that screamed "asshole.'"

"Ughhhhhh," he groans, pinching his beak. "It seems I have a problem with pest control. I'll return later, you should have succeeded by then. Or have died." He disappears in a burst of black feathers.

Their attention returns to the blue, depthless lake - No use putting it off anymore. She kicks her shoes off, attempting to wade into the water, but instead, walks on it like smooth glass.

"B-be c-cairrfull." He covers his mouth hastily.

"I will. Stay here. I'll be back in a jiffy."

With that the surface breaks, and she falls under.  Her eyes had closed in preparation, but with the brush of the wind, she takes a peek.

She stands on a dock, in front of a familiar island feet bound by an indiscernible pull, and she is guided forward. A man with the mask of a rabbit stands in between the trees with a torch, saying nothing as she approaches, eyes following behind the mask as she walks past. Further down the path, through an assortment of birch and hickory trees, a red haired woman stands with the mask of a pheasant. This one does acknowledge her.

"You're not him, are you?" 

"N-no … who is he?" The woman ignores her question.

"This isn't your memory. Stay vigilant. Eyes blinded by the fog cannot see the truth. The owls are not what they seem."

She is pulled along, past an old woman in a pigeon mask, a pot-bellied man in a boar mask, and finally, a man in a deer mask. 

"You are ready to meet your destiny." He says, but his eyes are gray and gone.

The mysterious spell brings her to a stop.

A large wooden structure of an owl burns in the night. Tied to a pole inside, a burnt body of a woman in an owl mask - it's her. She just knows, it's like looking at a mirror. 'Eyes blinded by the fog cannot see the truth.' It's not her. Her feet break loose of the mystic pull.

"What!?" The man in the deer mask yells. She rushes forward into the burning structure, grabbing a floating object which calls to her. Another black cube.

The woman with red hair walks from the forest, tossing the mask aside.

"Elizabeth!? What did you do!?" 

"Something I should've done long ago, father. Fear didn't make me blind." She looks at Jessica with cloudy eyes, pointing to the destroyed remains of a stone building.

"Go. Now." She says, and Jessica doesn't stick around to find out what happens next. 

Inside the mini temple, a gold rimmed well sits with a golden chained box, and like the action has repeated itself a thousand times, she places the cube in, and it descends into the well.

The world flashes and swirls around her, eyes squeezing shut at the brightness. When it dims enough, she uncovers her elbow from the bridge of her nose.

Stillness, one foot in the strange stream, the other on the land. Before her is yet another mirror image of herself, both of them holding a chalice.

"Hey-" a rope of liquid swings out and connects the two cups, then her other self smiles wickedly, and pulls. It was unexpected - she gasps, face-planting into the stream. The current is horrible, frigid, and she can't feel a top or bottom to the endless water.

This was hell. She is disoriented and the lake has no mercy, spinning her endlessly in a funnel.

Mirrors everywhere. In one shows a corrupted soul with the head of a stork, to her left an earthworm, her right a lizard, behind her a fish. They press their faces to the glass, hitting it, in warning. A rough hand grabs her ankle, dragging down, down until she smacks against the muddy bottom, remaining breath seeping out. It hurts so bad, she thinks her skull may be broken, as red twists around her. She sees her assailant, the same boar spirit that tried to get them in the cave. She is surrounded by even more.

"you killed us …. you let him kill us ..." They allsall a chorus in her head.

"one of us ... die with us … join us"

She wants to yell that she doesn't care, but she's still, brown hair floating in the darkness, body suspended and eyes rolled back

"give up … it will be easier that way … Jay doesn't need you"

'What!?'

"he's dead … one of us … you can come too … share our pain …"

'Jay? What do they mean?'

"jay merrick is dead … amy walters is dead … alex kralie is dead…"

But they didn't say Tim.

"tim has forgotten you … there is no need to fight anymore…"

But that-

"no one wants you…"

Maybe … they were right … if she stopped now … she could repent for her sins among these depths. She wouldn't have to think about any of it. Stripped down, raw. Only emotion …

No she doesn't want to die here. Please, anywhere else...

'I don't want to be here anymore.'

One echo breaks through the cacophony.

"You are so much stronger than you know. So much smarter than you think."

There it was again, speaking in her reeling head. She was spinning around so much she couldn't make sense of where the surface was.

"You can break this." 

In a flurry of renewed air, screaming into the water- 

"I'M NOT READY TO GIVE UP!"

The bubbles sail up, and she follows the trail. So clear. So light. So un-muddled, that she wonders how she had endured life before. Ground forms under her feet as the currents whip and thrash all around her figure, but fail to unbalance her.

"We will end this." 

She can feel the strain against something branching from her back, but she held strong, toes digging into stone beneath her. Something white and flurry coils around her, protecting her face from the grit that flies around like sandpaper, with a powerful swoop, the raging liquid stops.

She was dry, and standing on … marble? The room looked to be a white box. 

A white cube.

Movement caught her eye and she twisted to see feathers just outside her vision. 

"What the!?" She chases them in a circle and topples over in a flurry of limbs. There is a wing beating against the floor like a frantic swam and she realizes that she's doing that. Managing to bring it to a stop, she straightens herself out. It's like having a second set of arms, big, bulky, and clumsy arms, having to lean forward to keep from falling.

There was another presence with her. She turns, mouth dropping open. 

"Yo."

Chapter Text

"Long time no see."

"It's - You! I remember you!"

"Heh." The 'cop', "orange" stood, coincidentally, in an orange coat, with a lime green bandana covering their neck, which they twisted at. They look a bit worse for wear, and she tries to ignore the gaping hole through their torso like a portview window. One small corrupted antler branches from their forehead, pink buds sprout out like budding cherry blossoms. But for all that she's seen, this is pretty normal.

"Where are we?"

"You're white cube … You uh … you know your place is already taken. You can get out of here… you soul's all clean and shit … nice job."

Jessica didn't know what to say, staring in awe, shifting and swaying. Her mouth opens to speak but closes each time, until finally- "Why can't … Everytime I look away I forget your face, why can't I see it!?"

"Oh …That's not the first question I thought you'd asked … and uh well … it's complicated, but trust me you probably don't want to see my face… it's not my face… not my body … I feel like an imposter …So uh … yeah that…"

"What … happened to you? Who killed you!?"

They smile sadly.

"I don't know... I don't think I'll ever know."

"You're … kidding me…" She felt like sinking through the floor. "So that's it huh … it's just over … you're dead and they just ... get away with it …"

"No … they've suffered for their crime."

"What? They?"

"All I learned - actually - all that I wanted to know, is that my body was a sacrifice to some dumb ass scheme." They folded their legs on the floor. "It wasn't personal. No. It was just - wrong time and place. Just another name and, unfortunately, another face." They hold a palm under their head to accentuate.

"The person who did it, they will forever be a slave to a monster. And that truly … is the saddest fate. They couldn't raise out of the gutter like your friend there."

"... Like Toby…"

"Exactly."

"That's … a lot to process."

"Well if you want more to add on I'm Alrajul, The Hanged Man and you're possessed by Aietidal - Temperance."

She blinks.

"Come again?"

"You know like the tarot cards, the major Arcana … all that uh, hippy shit?"

She continues her silence like crickets.

"You, Jessica, are possessed by an angel, Temperance, to help defeat that faceless bastard who is the Tower, Harut."

".... What."

"Tower is bad guy, you are good guy with special powers."

"You're the hanged man … and I'm Temperance..."

"Yee."

"And that tall faceless thing is … The Tower?"

"Yee."

"And they're all angels."

"Mmhmm."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why us? Why me, why would an "angel" want to possess me!? And why specifically Temperance. Why are you the hanged man??" She turns back to Alrajul.

"Well … me… I tried to kill myself several times, because I was out of control. And I needed control. That's why I originally became a first responder ...you know, because I thought I could have control. I could protect, and save, help people on their worst day…. I was going to be a firefighter, at first. I passed the exam, the classes, the background checks. Then, they took another physical exam. My left lung collapsed while I was in a two by two tunnel thirty feet under the ground. I had stage three lung cancer. Undetected. I woke up in a hospital screaming through a tube lodged down my throat, high on a combination of drugs and wires and needles and white walls and the smell of bleach and I was crying like a baby. You know how old I was?"

"I ummm … 30?"

"I wish … I was 19. You ever heard of a 19 year old with lung cancer?"

"I mean … now I have."

"Ha! Yeah, yeah you're right. Well …" They bit at a gloved finger, trying to gnaw at the skin.

"I couldn't be a firefighter, didn't have the money to go to med-school. Couldn't join the military, couldn't nothin- but they had 'pity' on me. Told me it would be such a waste working in an office my entire life. And I somehow managed to bullshit my way through the psychological aspects. I always looked for a reason. Something that I could control. But the scariest damn thing … it was by chance. Life can't be controlled. It was really just … meaningless to worry about death. Oh shit I'm rambling I'm sorry, I haven't talked to anyone in forever, really fucking lonely-"

"It's - it's ok I get it … I mean I've never been dead so … I probably shouldn't judge."

"You sure? Because I'm a fat mouth. I will chew your ears off."

"Yes. I'm positive." 

They wiggled, swaying side to side and clapped their hands.

"You're the best! Anyway, So they made me an old country cop. Write a ticket, fill out some paperwork. Day's over. No strain on my one lung. And then next thing I know I get lured into the forest and killed by some bat shit lady. Bing bang done. You know it was actually before I met you …"

"Waitwhatthefuck-"

"Yeahhhhh probably should've mentioned that … see, I didn't realize I was dead. I done got killed like, 2 hours before you drove by?"

"HA!" She stood and leaned against the wall. "Ok, I've seen a lot of weird stuff this week … but -" she coughed. "Holy shit I got pulled over a ghost! Ha ha ha ha ha!" She laughed until tears threatened to spill. "This is insane! It's like I was predestined for this!"

"That's probably not far from the truth. Anyway I was like 'Oh I should probably like … Do my job' ya' know? Cus running a stop sign at 55mph is scary. And then once I realized I was dead uh … don't know … drifted awhile. Then I came here and -" They tapped their fingers, then, ever so slowly, pulled at the bandana, scrubbing at the static that coated their face.

"I don't want you … too associate this body with me … I wasn't her … I just ended up this way …" they had the visage of a deathly pale woman, eyes like black marbles and bleach blonde hair. Veins in their face were filled with black and showed faintly under the skin. She thinks carefully about her words, still a bit afraid of hurting someone who is already partially corrupt.

"She was a lot … better than me … better talker too. Better thinker too…"

"How about … you tell me about her then? So I'll associate her with that?" Jessica hopes it's a good choice, as they seem to enjoy talking. Keep them talking and they will be fine.

"Oh … well …" While their eyes were all one color, the light reflected in them warps as they look up, towards the back of their head. 

"Her name was - Emma, Emma Vanderboom … and she was … a mother … a woman in the late 1800's … she … her son went missing. But really Emma's brother … Albert … well he did something bad … and she hung herself ..."

'Albert' The name rings a bell, antlers branching in her mind.

"Maybe that's also why you're the hanged man?" 

Their lips made an "o".

"That … makes a lot of sense… why I have … this-" they gestured, and then their face is coated over again in static.

"Ok so … I get why you're the hanged man, but why am I 'Temperance' and not some other … weird …stuff."

"I don't know. Only you can answer that. What part of your life, can you say, made you the vessel for Temperance?"

"I … don't know much about Tarot cards…"

"HA! Me neither! Guess you'll have to ask someone that does know!"

And though it isn't that funny, they both giggle at the absurd stupidity of it all.

"AH AH WAIT THERE'S SOMETHING I WAS SUPPOSE TO TELL YOU BEFORE YOU WENT!" They nearly fall back from the force of their own surprise.

"I have a message, I knew you could interpret." They rest a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm all ears."

It spills out in numbers at first, but quickly corrects itself and echoes around her head like a cave.

"One day you will understand. Secrets everywhere. Look closely and you will know. See you soon."

With the last "soon" echoing, the white marble swirls around her, and the water comes rushing back.

---

Toby has been sitting at the lakes edge for at least ten minutes now, fighting the urge to go searching, despite how little good it would do. The nerves got the best of him and he calls out.

"J-Jess-i-ca!?" He hated the stutter in his words when he got nervous. 

There is only a trail of bubbles where she had disappeared. But she told him not to follow. The crow man told him not to follow. That they wouldn't even be in the same place … why did she have to face it alone? He didn't have, he had her help … but somewhere, beneath the murky blue and black, she was fighting without aid.

'She can handle it, it's fine it's fine!'

That's what he said about Lyra.

'I can't do this again. Please not again.' He shook, counting from ten. He had to move. 

She burst forth, shattering the glass surface of the lake. Suddenly, the ground was under her now and she stood in ankle high water.

She holds a black cube in one hand, a white in the other. The two blend together into a beautiful blue, A blue heart of conviction that would not be broken. 

The corrupted souls had receded in trying to prey on her, at least for the moment.

Her eyes open, brown hair laying on her shoulders over a green sundress, adorned with optical illusion in the form of squares.

Toby holds his breath.

"Hey Toby." She smiles, and he rushes forward into a hug.

"You did it! You did do it didn't you?"

"Yes yes I did, it's over."

His eyes flicker to the dress again and it clicks.

"Where d-id you get the dress?"

"I'm not sure, it was just … there ... like right now I just go it."

"Isn't that … never mind."

"No what were you going to say?"

"Isn't that … the dress that lady had on … the dead one. From the mill."

She buffers like a dial up modem.

"Does that mean I'm going to die…?"

"No!" Toby yelled. Then quieter. "No, don't worry you're with me!"

"Ha ha, alright, I believe you."

He beams at the validation.

"So … think he's coming back for us?"

"No clue, guess we could just … take a walk or somethin'."

So they do just that. It's a sunny day, a slight breeze billows through the green dress and striped hoodie sleeves - It would be peaceful if not for the idle fear of what lurks at the murky bottoms.

"So … what was down there?" Toby says nonchalantly, but his fingers dart about saying otherwise.

"It was … weird … well normal weird for this place considering … but I saw someone … someone from long ago…"

"Did you know them?"

"Not … really, actually … We only met once but they said some interesting things… Toby can I ask a weird personal question?"

"Ok…"

"Do you … ever hear a voice, not like a schizophrenic voice or a hallucination, but a solid voice at the back of your head?"

"Uh … like thoughts?"

"Pff, no no, thoughts are up here-" she taps her forehead, "I mean back here." 

"I … can't say that I have … I would have to hear it know it … why is it something that's bothering you?"

"Down there, I found out … the operator is … an angel?"

"Like the Bible?"

"I guess? I don't know … it has something to do with tarot cards… apparently his real name is Harut? The Tower? Look I'm just getting this fresh out of the box."

"Wack…"

"Apparently I'm possessed by Temperance … which sounds kind of ridiculous but I have heard, someone talking to me… like a guiding voice."

"Are you ok?" His neck cracks looking at her.

"Physically yeah … mentally … I guess - I'm still getting used to it but being in a constant state of confusion. It would explain all the … crystal stuff."

"Well if it helps I'm also confused!" 

She snickers sarcastically, "Yeah thanks." 

"Can you control the crystal stuff."

"I uh … actually I don't know." She holds out her arm.

"Maybe if I just think about it real ha-" It solidifies up to her elbow.

"Woah." 

"Try punching me!" Toby says.

"I'm not hitting you! And didn't you just get feeling back?"

"Yeah but I've never been punched and felt it! I wanna see what it's like!"

"I'm not doing it. Go find some poor soul to do it." She jokes.

"Ok!" and before she notices, he has jogged away.

"Toby? Toby! I was kidding!"

BANG

A murder of crows flies off from a field, not too far from her. She runs, barely noticing the crystal shards bursting from her feet, propelling her forward and over the grass so that she doesn't become entangled.

She slides through the mud when she reaches Toby, fallen in the field, a spot of red growing in his jacket. 

"Owwwweeeee~" 

"Oh my god oh my god hey stay with me!"

"I'm not - dying yet - asshole…" Toby squeezes out between breaths.

"Don't move around too much." She tears a part of the dress fabric - but it's gone immediately and reattached to the dress.

"What the fuck?!" She panics.

There's a man in suspenders running towards them with a rifle.

"I was gonna scare him so he'd punch me …"

"TOBY!'

"I didn't know - he had a gun…"

The man reaches them, out of breath.

"I thought he was a deer! Oh my god!"

"YOU JUST SHOT INTO THE GRASS!?" She screams.

"I was chasing this deer through these parts! Why the hell was he hiding in a field? Scared the shit outta me! What was I supposed to do!?"

"LITERALLY ANYTHING BUT SHOOT HIM."

She fusses at his jacket sleeve, trying to tear it but Toby is fighting her about it.

Click

She while around instantly - staring down the barrel of a rifle. The man wears a wicked staple-like smile when she realizes. Toby lets out a growl like a dog, trying to get up.

The man laughs at his struggle.

"It didn't have to be this way Locke, but you just had to go and help a defector."

"What the fuck are you talking about!?" But she sees their sleeve, a scar on their wrist, the same one Alex drew over and over. She doesn't give a damn about angels or Eldritch monsters or tapes or any other bullshit, she just knows she's going to kill this guy, some way or another. He has the rifle aimed, and she glares back defiantly.

BANG 

She looks up. There is a hole through the man's head - stunned expression, it sticks with him as he's sent toppling under his own weight. Then a wound in his abdomen starts leaking through the shirt. 

"Hey it's -" Toby pat's at his own skin "-gone."

Sure enough, it's gone. No scars or blood, just a whole in the fabric.

"Let's … just go, I've had enough of this today. We'll figure it out later."

"Okay." Toby agrees.

She still helps him across the field, though he insists he's alright. The crows above circle the dead body of the man. She has an idling wonder if any of them are a certain host. But as they approach the water, there he is, waiting for them in the boat.

They settle in before he speaks in their heads.

"Ah I see you've completed the test Ms. Locke! How did it go?"

"What the fuck?! You didn't tell me there was - reality bending world shit down there!?"

"Did you not meet Albert and live to tell the tale?"

"Yes but I I ended up on some island with a fucking owl burning with my body in it!"

"A… burning owl, you say?" He falters, something they hadn't seen him do before.

"Yes, a big wooden structure shaped like a owl, on the island, and there were people with masks matching the fucking guests! What is that all about!?"

"... Those aren't your memories…"

"No … that's what someone there said to me too."

"... Peculiar … yes this is a bit … concerning. I'll be sure to alert Mr. Owl of this immediately."

They sit in uncomfortable silence there after.

"Even to this day, the lake continues to surprise me.

---

The clock on the wall is dreadful. Tic. Tic. Tic. The two of them sat on old wooden chairs, told not to move and being watched by the bat …man. 'Lol a literal batman.'   It's like waiting outside the school office for the principal or something. Like she and Toby had been in a fight. Which wasn't wrong .

Mr. Crow finally reappears.

"Good news - Mr. Owl has dismissed any worries about your experience Ms. Locke, and has declared both of you in a fit enough state of mind to be discharged. You are free to go."

The words hit like lead in her belly. 

"What now? Do we get to go home?"

Toby flinches, staying silent.

"Wherever … home is …" Because her apartment never really was 'home' to her, just safety. And as far as she knew, she couldn't support another person, and Toby most certainly couldn't show his face in public. She couldn't abandon him and she couldn't take him with her-

"Yes." 

"What!?" 

"Is that a problem?" The crow eyes her.

"Yes! It's a huge problem! I - we can't just go back seeing what we've seen! We're not … we're not …" It wants to break past her lips but she isn't sure. The word - she knows for sure about Toby - but herself?

"We're not normal…" She shivers out. Toby looks at her, pitifully.

Mr. Crow blinks slowly, "Indeed, but all of this is not for nothing. You've done a superb job. I have great faith that you will find your way. You will find your home. The battle is just beginning." He rests a hand on both their shoulders, giving a firm squeeze, and walks between them.

"I do wish we may cross paths again, though hopefully, you will be much better off than how you arrived. Do not let us down." He walks to the elevator. 

"I will retrieve your personal belongings don't worry." He files in and goes up, leaving them alone again in the lobby.

Toby shuffles, then speaks: "You … you were normal before … me. If you hadn't-"

"Put a plug in that train of thought right now." She points her feet, turning to fully address him.

"Toby …" She sighed. "Maybe at some point in my life … in comparison to you … I was 'Normal' but - It wasn't anything to do with you. I don't know if I was always a bit strange and just … better at hiding it? Most people are. Or, if it was because of the creature. Either way, there was no way of preventing this that I know of, nothing you or I could control. That's what makes it a monster. I'd even bet it set things in motion several years before … something as evil like that … I wouldn't doubt it entirely. And there's so many others! God knows how long they were in it too… there's no way of telling how long the operator has had its claws in our lives, and so many others."

Toby doesn't respond. The orange goggles reflect the light, his expression unclear, but the rigid muscles spelled some of the problem.

"Toby … what's wrong?"

His head lowers, and his eyes are wide, shaking even in their sockets. Rage.

"Did I say something to upset you? Can you hear me? Toby?"

"How long … was it in your life?" He mumbles in monotone.

"I'm … Not entirely sure, but sometime before I was 16 … I mean all the amnesiac stuff started in college. But even before then …" She imagines the ghost of the hanged man.

"I'm going to kill him I-" . The words sputter with shock and adrenaline.

"T-toby wa-" He caterwauls, shaking the room with such a painful, agonizing sound. It kills Jessica's heart to hear. 

"FUCK! FUCK! I'LL KILL HIM! HE PLAYED ME LIKE A FOOL!" His fist connected with the drywall, again and again, knuckles bleeding.

She wrangles him, pulling him back from the wall, but he is superbly strong, breaking free of every grip she gets.

"Stop! Calm down! Talk to me!"

"HE DID THIS! IT DID THIS!" He shrieks. "I'LL KILL IT!" His voice breaks with sobs. She finally recognizes what he's talking about.

"Don't! You'll just undue everything you've worked for - you shouldn't face him alone!"

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! I HAVE TO!" He turns around and lashes out with his words. "I'M SURE OF IT! HE KILLED MY SISTER! HE'S RESPONSIBLE FOR - FOR - EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING IS BECAUSE OF HIM!"

She doesn't know what to say, and reaches a hand out.

"WHAT ELSE HAS HE DONE HUH!? WHAT IF I COULD'VE BEEN A NORMAL KID!? HOW DO I KNOW HE DIDN'T FUCK THAT UP TOO!?" 

"Toby! Toby listen to me! You can't think like that, you'll just bury yourself further in-"

Before her hand can reach his shoulder, it is dark. 

She sits in her Pj's.

On the floor…

Of her apartment.

Toby is nowhere to be found.

She is alone. 

Curling up slowly, her palm rises to cover her mouth, holding back the floodgates.

The mask falls at her knees.

[End of Act 1]

Chapter Text

[Act 2 Flux]

I'm fine. Everything will be better. These are the swirling words in Brian's head, every moment of every day. Pushing the doubts, the conflictions aside. 

The nightmares coming, he whispers. Not if he ignores it. He's been blessed with these moments back together with his family.

He can't win. They both know that. They just want to spend their last days in happiness.

Everything I ever wanted. 

But he's seen this world of angels and reality-bending forces. 

He flicks the knife open and close on the windowsill.

'I'm scared. As long as I don't die alone … I can do it. Please don't let my end be a sad one.'

He thinks it's irony that landed him in this situation. Just some normal, semi-popular kid playing college football. He originally thought it was because he ran into Tim, but turns out it was all predestined from the beginning.

Yes … "predestined." To wake up in a dark, abandoned building's endless halls of fallen tiles and concrete. Dragging himself because his head was swelling from an unseen blow to the head, and the injury messed with his legs. This was how he was going to die, wasn't it … just some other missing kid in the newspaper. Found dead. They'd probably surmise it to a "drug deal gone wrong" depending on where they found him.

He refused, pulling and pushing harder than he ever has in his life, having to stop every 5 feet to breathe. But he refuses to die. It would be so easy to sleep. But had Tim gotten out? He doesn't know. And that's what keeps him biting his tongue to urge his forward drag. His clothes are totaled by dirt and scratches and sweat and other bodily fluids he isn't sure of, isn't sure how many nerves have been destroyed by the impact. Only knowing that he was still thinking . Still speaking in his head. Just that his physical body was having a rough time listening. He'd move the right arm and the only his left leg would shake.

But as he moves there's steps, doe light, and he cannot drag himself fast enough, so he stops and goes quiet, hoping he can hide in plain sight.

He yelps when a face like the moon breaks the night.

It's easy to recognize that it's Tim, even behind the mask. He knows his friend enough. He whimpers in untold fear. Was he in on this? He's picked up, jostling his head and god it hurts, it hurts. He coughs at the smell of smoke.

It's freezing cold now - wherever they are. But his head hurts less . This other Tim drops a hood in his lap.

"Eadala."

"W-what?"

He trills to him in some unknown language like a bird-squirrel hybrid. 

"I don't know what you want."

"Accept him." His left arm moves on its own - no someone else is moving it. 

"Two halves." And that is all he ever explained to Brian in English - only carrying a conversation with the inhuman half as he sat back idly and watched it pilot his body like a meatsuit.

His name is "Alqamar." This other side of Tim. And one night Alqamar isn't there with him and he has to go find him - walking miles through the woods and random neighborhoods to Tim's house. He almost screamed for joy, he finally made it back to his town.

But as he approaches, he sees Tim is acting normal again. The medication. It suppresses the only other partner he had in this situation. So he backs away from the doorbell, retreating into the woods. They hide him well. Tim opens the door, looking around, before shutting it with a huff. 

His "danger" alarms go off before he knows what's going to hit him, and he takes off like a deer into the thick. Crickets silencing as he crashes by. But a thicket of vines meets him and drags him into another world. A dark world of endless mangroves and murky green water. But there's food and shelter here. It's what matters most to him. But the more and more he jumps the two worlds, the less the hunger is.

And it's all very confusing but he's used to that. The one thing he does know.

He can never.

Go.

Home.

He could never go back again. Not like this. This goes beyond him and Tim and Alex and Marble Hornets.

The stakes are too high.

He cannot go home.

Life is a precious little thing. It runs out too quickly. He is alone and tired and the only friend he has is Eadala who is a huge asshole who makes videos in bare minimum English to antagonize Jay and Tim. And Brian lets him do it, not like he has much choice, Ead takes the reins most of the time. Always working, always planning.

And so he is here now. He has reached the ark and it's … a dump. He's had more questions answered in this one week then the several years he spent in the woods.

He knows what 'Jay's' planning. Alnassik. Why did he have to use Jay's body?

But when it comes down to it, it doesn't matter.

Alnassik, The Hermit, "Skully".

He will lose this fight.

But he doesn't have the heart to tell them that.

So he curls up next to Jay and Tim and enjoys the end of the world.

---

Tim wakes up to a scratching noise from the corner or the room. It's early morning and just bright enough to see shadows in the room, and there is a rather big one in the corner, it scares him momentarily, but he finally recognizes it to be a huge pile of linens and blankets.

'Where did that come from ?'

He groans - he has to inspect it or he can't go back to bed, so he gets up.

"HISSSSSS!"

Comes from the pile.

"What the - Jay?"

Jay is curled in the middle, around … a large white object … like … like an egg.

"Jay, where did you get that?" 

"Ouzzsidee~" 

His eyes are gone and otherworldly, and then they're gone.

"Huh? Oh, good morning Tim… what the heck is this thing? It's … huge."

"You don't remember getting it?"

"Uh … no."

Tim sighs.

"It's an egg … what do you think is inside? He holds his ear up to it."

"I don't know, break it."

"NO." He snaps, eyes dilated again - and Brian stirs at the loud noise.

"I'm …  going back to bed … do what you want." It's too early to deal with this - he thinks,  plopping down next to Brian, asleep the moment his head hits the mattress.

---

Jay wakes up, noticing the egg - but he wants to go for a walk … what to do…

"Hey Bri-" he calls to the man, who's messing with an old oil lamp. He nods in acknowledgement.

"Can you watch this egg while I'm gone? Make sure nothing hurts it?"

Brian gives him a thumbs up.

"Thank you - I'll be back soon."

It's another, cloudy, dark, windy day. Lovely. But Jay's ok with it - it fuels some deep aesthetic in him. A can goes tumbling down with the breeze and the shudders flap on the identical rows of buildings. 

He takes a seat by the fountain, reaching a hand in, fussing with the water. His reflection shimmers to reveal himself, but wearing the mask.

He falls back, hurting his tailbone on the cobblestone below.

"Hello Jay." The water ripples.

He stares incredulously.

"H-Hi? You're … your Alnassik, right?" He kneeled, leaning in the fountain side with his elbows.

"Yes."

"You're … really real."

"Yes."

"Sorry just - it's finally settling in."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"So you're really … like an angel? In my head?"

"That would be correct - though I'm not a human's typical visage of a holy being."

"And Tim, and Brian - they are too right?"

"Yes."

"Well uh … it's nice to meet you … thanks for your help, you know, back when we arrived here …"

"You are my vessel, I should do my best to … take care of you." For some reason the being stumbles over the words.

"I don't know what … Tim thinks is so bad about you guys… you seem nice enough to me."

"Tim and Alqamar have conflicting ideas - and sadly - Alqamar is a stick in the mud, and has refused all, if any conversation with his host I'm afraid. "

"Ah … Tim's also … a bit of a stick in the mud…" he rests his head on the fountain.

"I suspect you have many questions?"

"Yeah actually what is an angel and what do you look like and how do you work and why is everyone named after a tarot card and why is the sky blue and why is the operator after us and how many angels are there and how did you come to exist and what is this place and-"

"Hmph, be calm be calm, I will provide you with some answers, but I need a favor - I need you to go visit the devil - they will give you better details than me."

The apparition fades in the water, and he steps back.

"Why … why the devil?" He isn't sure if they will answer.

"I was born here, in these lands - but the devil - the devil was made. They have much more experience beyond this realm, and they will understand all of your human perspectives. They will be able to answer your questions in a manner you can comprehend."

"Oh …Ok uh …Which way do I…?"

"Follow your intuition, It will guide your way."

"Okkkkkaaayyyy…" Jay turns in a big circle, stops at one street, and decides this feels right, and he goes about his merry way.

'Where off to see the devil, the wonderful devil of the ark.' He snorts at his own terrible humor.

He follows his heart, or his brain - wherever the hell intuition is supposed to be. No one is out today and he's glad for that - he can do without the judgemental and terrified stares.

Not a soul around.

...

Little did he know ... he was most certainly being watched…

Chapter Text

A dark shadow of a certain former collective member moves from its skulking corner to the window blind, peaking through.

"Oh Jesus FUCK the Hermits coming this way!" Black clouds of tentacles swirl it's form, 4 white eyes the only solid part to be seen - squinting in distaste.

"He doesn't look that bad…" The shadow jumps - if shadows could jump.

"GET AWAY FROM THE WINDOW KEVIN!" The observer seizes his hand.

"You're being paranoid-"

"THAT IS MY EXISTENCE - TO INSTILL PARANOIA AND BE PARANOID!" He gestured wildly. ''Kevin's an idiot!'

"I'm sure they're fine - I mean the firefighters seemed chill with it. Didn't kill anyone … this time…"

"Oh - the Firefighter's, puhhh-LEASE!" He threw his many appendages up, pacing in the corner. "They have about one brain cell between all of them - and the devil certainly doesn't share any of it. Who let's such infantile halfwits have that much power!?"

"Wow I don't know, how about the Nazis? Like you're old co-workers?" 

"Oh fuck the Nazis!" He smacks his cloudy head on the wall, and Kevin rolls his eyes.

"You were certainly a lot more scared of the Nazi's then the devil …"

"WAS NOT! THAT'S BULLSHIT!"

"Nevermindddddd - what makes you so scared of - him?" Kevin points out the window. "Didn't you say the Hermit was … 'low on the food chain'?"

"Yes yes - not until he ate HABIT's heart."

"Wait! What!?" Kevin looks again at the wiry, Innocent looking man walking down the cobbles. "You're saying that guy is part death rabbit?!"

"Alnassik may not have been that powerful but he was one of the smarter ones of the lot - he knew how to get strong on his own volition… Did you know he - no … it's not important…" The Observer waves it off, but Kevin pushes.

"What? What did he do?"

"A massacre… only a select few survived - under his terms."

"Oh … should we go see Noah and Firebrand then?"

"NO!" He screeches, shaking the banisters.

"Come on you're still salty you lost that game of chess?"

"YES. VERY SALTY."

"Look - just because you had a fight with Mr. Goldensun doesn't mean I can't see Noah."

"Oh yes - you do a lot of 'seeing' over there I'm sure of it."

"DHWHDHFJRJ SHUT UP!" Kevin stutters, heat rising in his face, "I'll - I'll kick your ass, dickhead!" But the Observer disappears into the vents, laughing and cooing madly.

---

Someone is following him. Jay hears the steps - and finally musters the courage to turn around.

A darker skinned man approaches closely behind, eyes hidden by a reflection in his glasses, black hair parted to one side, shaved on the other. He tilts his head up and the light goes away revealing -  friendly eyes.

"Hi! You're new around here right?"

"O-oh." Jay's taken aback. "Yeah I'm … new."

The man doesn't hesitate walking up to him, offering a firm handshake, practically flopping Jay's arm around like a dead fish because Jay forgot about social interaction years ago.

"Nice to meet you, the name's Kevin."

"Oh uh … Jay … I'm Jay … yes. Jay." Kevin laughs.

"You're like … the first person not to run away immediately seeing me."

"Really dude? That sucks … though I wouldn't take it too personally, everyone around here's kinda iffy around new people. Because ending up here means you've seen some shit."

"Yeah … definitely seen my ... fair share." Jay's eyes shift a bit to avoid the radiant and beaming smile the man wears.

"I won't pry if you don't want me to, but which monster did you get?" 

"Uh ... the operator, it was this tall faceless white thing -"

Kevin doesn't flinch "... Interesting name …We called him the Administrator."

"You've - seen it too!?"

"Pff, yeah - done a lot more than see." He laughs with a twinge of sadness in his eyes.

"This is … this is a lot farther spread than I thought … I thought we were the only ones..." Jay thinks out loud.

"It sure as hell feels like that, but I promise you you're not alone - if there's one thing anyone can agree on around here is how much of a bitch the Tower is."

Jay sways on his feet, looking up and down between the cracks in the concrete and Kevin's patient face.

"Did … did it control people you knew?" His face drops, and Jay fears he's gone too far, but his smile returns moments later.

"Actually … I was the one being controlled, by one of his previous uh - servants. Another angel like him. Still weird calling them 'angels.'"

"Oh … I'm sorry …" But his thoughts are reeling, because now he wonders … could he have saved Alex?

"No it's no big deal, it's been dealt with - actually assholes my roommate now. Fucked up right?"

"I'm not here to judge - but he's just … separate from you?"

"Yeah, I mean he used to … possess me but we were separated here, by The Devil."

"Oh …" Jay thinks of Alnassik, 'Why are we still sharing a body then?' Never mind that. Think about it later. (Think about it never.)

"The Devil … what is … he? … she? They? - like?"

Kevin snorts, "It depends on who's in the room - should be a "he" when you go to see them."

Jay has no clue what he means. Eh, whatever.

"As for what they're like … I mean the best I've observed is the devil is kinda like … a mixture of your best friend and your worst enemy?"

'Oh so Alex basically.' Jay snickers to himself, "How so?"

"Well my roommate - thinks they're a, and I  quote 'Precocious Non-euclidian Maverick' better put as a 'smart ass who breaks the rules of physics'…. Honestly they're just kind of a dumbass redneck - I think he's looking way too into it." Kevin shrugs, "Meanwhile my - friends … my uh-" He hesitates, searching Jay's face for a moment - who just blinks dumbly. "My - boyfriend's - roommate - he says they're the 'Whore of Babylon.'" Jay's mind totally skips over the nervously spoken word. "They argue about it every time they meet - 'They have blue eyes! No they have brown eyes! No you clearly can't see colors four-eyes! Fuck you hundred-eyes!' - On and on and on."

"Sounds like a majority of the college roommates I've had." Jay mumbles.

Kevin lets out a loud "HA!"  - "True, True - but one constantly sets everything on fire - actually that's still not that far off of a college roommate."

"Pff ha-ha!" They wholeheartedly laugh together and it feels nice, genuine, maybe there is hope of acceptance?

"Anyway, I gotta get some stuff done, but it was nice meeting you!"

"Yeah, thanks for the info."

"No problem."

Jay wanders around where him and the others had seen the devil first - nothing but rubble and tumbleweeds blowing by, though there was a "pink lemonade" stand barren next to the fountain. It peaks his curiosity and he looks at the strange abandoned table.

"I wouldn't drink that, pretty sure it's laundry water."

The voice startles him and he swivels around to see the man named Vinny dipping a bucket of water in the fountain again.

"Oh … thanks." He feels eyes on him as he leaves the center, but at least the guy isn't running away.

Not too far down, he sees a wood sign, creaking on it's metak hinges.

"Shittfest Vol. Fire Comp."

"...huh … weird name…" 

He barely touches the door knob when it flies open and is dragged inside.

"#4" towers over him.

"Uh h-hi-"

They shoved a harness over Jay's shoulders with an oxygen tank on the back - nearly falling over - then started slapping a rubber contraption to his face. The air was sucked out of his lungs momentarily- scaring the shit out of him, but then the oxygen turned on and he could breathe. The man pulled him in, shutting the front door, and pointed up the stairs to a room on the right.

'Well that was fast … guess you don't have to make an appointment then …"

"... Thanks…" and he ascend# the thin and creaking stairs. The building was horrible old and he had claustrophobia in this hallway. A fighter in full uniform passes him - both having to awkwardly maneuver to get around one another.

Before he can knock at a crooked for frame, a groan sounds from within.

"Ughhhhh come in…" 

He entered the darkened room. It's cluttered - but quaint - old red wallpaper lining the walls with golden swatches of patterns, reflecting the light that squeezes through the wooden blinds. A masked woman sits in a recliner, reading to themselves, messing with a bag of tea. He prays it's tea. Jay recognises the mask to be the same kind painted on "10's" respirator.

He looks over to a person laying flat on the bed, and he thinks that it can't possibly be the same person from earlier - but the frail mass gives off a strange vibe - so apparently it was. They still cover their face like the other, except for the eyes. From what he can see they're extremely thin and bony, pale - almost sickly so, and he wonders how they even move in a suit…

Jay takes a breath through the respirator a few times, waiting for some acknowledgement. 

"What are you waiting for? I'm not getting any younger!"

He scrambles his way in.

"Umm … why do I have to wear the air tank?"

"This room's full of Nitrogen, you'll be unconscious in under a minute."

"Oh … and you're … not?"

"We breathe Nitrogen bitch."

"O-oh."

"You wanted to ask me something? Have a seat."

"Y-yeah several things but … I actually don't know where to start."

"Well make it quick cus I'm gonna be clocked out in about ten minutes here regardless."

Jay situated himself in the chair as much as possible with the bulky thing on his back.

"I guess … what … are these "angels" supposed to be?"

They answer immediately - "Crackheads mostly … well. Some are a physical being, some are an emotion or object… and some are both … tell you the truth, I don't know much about it myself…"

'Is this a test?' Jay thinks.

"Alnassik said you were a liar."

"Ha-ha-ha- Damn right. You gotta figure out which part is true - don't you…"

They sigh from the laughter.

"See I'm not that smart, ol' thinkers broken." They hit their skull harshly "But the best advice I could give you though - don't tell people shit . But also - tell people shit."

"What?"

"Don't open your mouth but open your mouth."

"... What?"

"Don't speak because everyone will judge you no matter fucking what you do but also speak because silence is dangerous."

"That sounds highly counter-productive…"

"SEE! That's what they all say, but when it comes down to it …You're alllll just the same." They make finger guns and wiggle around. "All flittering and fussing in your own little groupssss. Once something comes along to topple to mound, fu~ better watch out. You better not cry." They were up on a dresser lifting their feet. "You better not pout I'm telling you why-" Then they're in the doorway.

"Santa Claus is coming, to to-OWW!" They're swung down with one arm back on to the bed by the woman in the chair. 

"I'm fine! I'm fine! I was just playing around!"

She shushes them with a hand.

Jay tries to hide a slipping smile, "You're gonna get the song stuck in my head."

"Aw see!? There's that smile! It's always better to smile! They're free you know? A gift you can give for free!"

"Now that sounds like some better advice."

"Aww, shucks … anyways … you wanted to know about angels, right."

They settle under their comforter with a happy trill, and tap their cloaked chin.

"Most of them were born here… I was created . I used to be human . In your world … I was born in the late 1980's … but time doesn't tick anymore … I've been here over a couple thousand years now…." 

"But you're from the 80's."

"Yyyyep."

Jay coughs into his fist, "Ha … that's … actually kinda neat … I wanna know how that works." 

"Trust me you don't. It gets worse the more you think about it."

"Can I … can I ask something kinda personal?"

"Shoot."

"Everyone here - the angels - have some kind of connection to the major arcana, right?"

"... Yessss."

"And … the hermit said some were born that way but you said some … were made? And you said you were human before so-"

"Your point?"

"Uh well - I guess - why are you the devil and why are the others … who they are?" 

They're preoccupied sliding a teacup across the nightstand.

"Hmmm that's … an interesting question. Never heard that one before…."

They blew on the hot liquid.

"You would have to ask everyone individually how they got their name sake. As for me-"

They sip at the tea with an overly obnoxious sound.

"I am the devil, because I was the first to fall." The woman in the chair didn't look up from her book, but gently lays a palm over their small, veiny hand.

".... From like …Heaven? Like Lucifer?"

"PFFT-" they sprayed the tea everywhere.

"Hahahaha! No no, not like Lucifer. Live long enough and you'll probably figure out what the fuck I'm talking about."

"You can't just tell me?" Jay snorts.

"That ruins the fun doesn't it!" They set the cup back onto the night stand, laying back.

"I need to sleep now, please shut the door on the way out."

"Alright. Thank you."

"Don't thank me, you'll regret it."

"Ok ... no thanks then?"

"That's better."

Jay quietly stands and makes his way for the door - but his hand stops on the knob.

The clock audibly ticks.

The dust floats. 

The air is still.

"Diavolo."

The devil slides the cloth from their face, teeth curled In a smile.

"I was wondering when you were finally going to talk to me, Hermit. That why you sent Jay here? What has it been - A thousand years?"

Alnassik turns, and the devil's true look shows to him, and only him - because he knows the truth.

"Do you still make deals, or are you too old for that?"

"A deal with the devil now? Didn't your parents not teach you how bad that can go?"

"I am serious."

The masked woman looks up from her book, giving the angel a challenging gaze as the devil speaks.

"Depends what you're asking..."

"I want you to keep our history a secret. From everyone. Any information you have on me - it is kept silent behind your lying mouth. I want my plans to go unimpeded."

The devil giggles.

"You're a sick sunovabitch aren't you? Gonna lie to your own partners huh? To your humans? You know they care about you, they're just trying to help-"

Alnassik straightens to full height - "You know well enough what it will cost you if you fight the Tower yourself."

Their devilish smile drops, and they stare over at the woman in the chair.

"You wouldn't risk pulling your power back from your family, would you? Surely you know what will happen." He growls.

Their expression is dark. They peel a glove from their right hand, revealing a wedding ring, and slowly wraps small, weak fingers around the woman's hand, who squeezes in return. Their face goes plain, "Fine. What are you offering in return then?"

"I will defeat the Tower by myself. He won't even touch the ark. Everything will be taken care of."

The Devil holds out their left arm.

"Then we have …. a deal."

He grips their hand and with a static spark, the deal is made.

"Have a goodnight."

"Get out of my house."

.

.

.

Jay snaps back to reality, hand on the doorknob. What was he thinking about? Eh, whatever. He opens the creaking wood and makes his way down the wooden stairs, removing the oxygen once he was outside.

Chapter Text

Flashback

(Alnassik)

He would never tell the garish story of what he had done. They didn't ask him - they knew better.

He'd committed a terrible sin.

He had contracted a magic beyond his own volition as the hermit. The Magician. A laughing maniacal creature shrouded in a purple haze. But - he offered his power, his heart, in exchange - to escape the emotional agony that impaired his soul. An agony instilled by The Devil as punishment for his crimes.

And why did he do this? Rage and a need. 

Kill one of your own blood. To save the ones you love. But the other was always rage. A predestined flaw in the calcification of his skull.

He's not as strong as the Moon's tidal pull.

Not as fast as the swift blade of blind justice. 

Not as terrifying and consuming as The Sun.

Not as skilled as the great vines of wrath encompassing The Empress and Emperor.

Not as powerful as The Magician and Temperance.

Not as old as The Tower.

Not as good at hiding like Death.

And not as Truthful as The Devil.

He had no holy weapon but his bone and teeth. 

But he was smart. 

Terrifyingly smart. 

As long as the others underestimated him. Yes. 

After he and The Magician made their deal, The devil was the next on his list. With the combined power of him and The Magician, he could likely best The Devil, and take their power for his own. He expected a formidable, terrifying thing, writhing with thousands of eyes and horns and gnashing teeth- but rather received an impish creature. He thought it was a joke. This couldn't possibly be the devil! But 

he'd asked way too many questions, and they smiled - as they shared with him an awful truth.  

Something so damningly powerful and world-ending, knowledge possessed by a human, nonetheless. The devil was human. A human with eyes of fire and truth and the mouth of a liar and ash.

He may not have their power - he doesn't even attempt a fight. They had shot him down 13 miles from the city.

Noah's infamous Ark, now a wasteland conscribed by the human version of Satan himself.

But he wins The Devil's favor rather easily.

And with that ally, he had a home. Free roam of the ark. A gateway more than anything. He could protect whatever he needed to, as long as it was here, it would be safe.

He had power, and a home base.

It was time.

The day finally came. He descended upon his birthplace. Once he knew the truth. Because he would not fall like the humans had - he wouldn't let the flood waters continue. 

Yes. They definitely underestimated him. And he falls, blocking the sky with an army of stone that blotted out even the tiny pin-pricks of stars. 

Darkness.

And he didn't regret it. 

Not when he cut and sliced and slaughtered his own kind with seething steel and a pearly whites skull.

Not when he stared into the eyes of many he called his 'elders'.

Not when the ocean turned gold with their blood and The Magician cackled within his own bones.

He was more flesh and human than ever before. It wasn't enough. He still could not taste the fruits of his labor, couldn't smell it.

He destroyed one by one, until a few remained - The few he could persuade the night before to join him.

These were his partners now. But two of them manage to wiggle their way into his heart, which he thought was secure behind his ribcage. He was in love, something he believed to be lost to the bloody waters.

They never asked either. But Alqamar knew what happened. He came to him night's later and said "You bested me, right under my nose." And The Moon offered The Hermit a gift - A gift which frightened him so much he staggered back, before shoving it back into the other's chest and said "this is enough."Holding his face of white pearl and black feather. "This is enough." 

Because Alnnasik couldn't kill him.

"THIS IS ENOUGH."

He meant many different things. 

And so Alqamar was his. The moonlight he sat under each night, staring up to - now was down on the ground, next to him. He always thought the moon was beautiful.

His singing is lovely too. When he wants too - a rare occasion. (He hasn't heard him sing for several years.)

And then one day Justice itself slipped onto his doorstep. To say he expected someone different was - an understatement. He'd avoided The Hermit's wrathful attack, and showed their face - a mess of black static and twig thin arms, barely coming to the height of Alnnasik's shoulder. 

But he also knew not to underestimate Justice. He was always the quickest. Action before thought.

Eadala was not there to punish him - rather, to tell him that he had enacted justice on the foul angels of olde. That he wanted to help him, in his next step.

He didn't have a "next step" planned. Not until Harut, The Tower, made himself well known. Alnnasik had killed a thousand ancient beings - but The Tower? They'd killed millions.

And they would not stop there. 

And he looked at The Moon, and at Justice, and the other remaining angels. And then - the humans. And because of what The Devil had told him, the truth, he couldn't let the humans suffer. 

Because beneath their fleshy pink and brown tones, lies bones, like his own skin, with a surprising amount of Intelligence for their size.

He would kill the Tower.

Whatever it takes.

Chapter Text

Maybe it's the incredibly boring atmosphere or the way that Jay has sat all week staring at the unmoving egg for half the day - but Tim's starting to get irritable. They need to do something, make some sort of progress, but right now there is nothing. He knows their next clue is probably the egg, but Jay bites at Tim anytime he tries to examine it, and Brian sides with Jay just to piss off Tim. It's a lot like the Jay Tim knew after their night-time run in with the Operator- he doesn't need that feeling of helplessness back.

"Jay can you stop staring at that you're freaking me out."

"..."

"Jay. BLINK."

A blank face looks up and blinks slowly at Tim with zoned out eyes - and then curls up the jacket he's wearing, pushing the egg inside and clutching it to his front.

"What are you doing?" He sighs.

"Keeping it safe… and warm… so it can hatch into a beautiful bird."

"I've never seen a bird's egg that big, not even an ostrich - are you sure it's not a reptile of some sort? Honestly, even a dinosaur I would believe at this point."

"No, it's gonna … it's a big beautiful bird … big and beautiful … gonna … gonna flap all over.'

He sounds drunk.

"Jay, seriously we need to - I don't know what we need to do but it needs to be something, that thing is still out there and it's going to come for us."

"Oh fuck off, I'll handle it - you don't have to do anything."

The tone in his voice is … not unlike the kind he possessed when trying to stab Tim. 

He backs up to the wall with a steadying breath.

Maybe… maybe that isn't even Jay at all … like The Devil said …But worse. What if Jay was … gone. Some actor playing around in his body. Maybe the same with Brian too. Maybe this was hell and he had died and the operator was toying with him - come on, the literal devil was here - it wouldn't be that farfetched.

No. This was still Jay and Brian … just a bit sick. Yeah - they're sick right now - but it will get better once he figures out how to kick the operator out of their life for good. (He doesn't realize he says 'life' in the singular form.)

He needs a smoke break - minus the smoke - which means going out and trying to breathe in the warm mist for some semblance of anxiety soothing air in his lungs. Before "the egg incident" Jay would come out with him - and that was honestly much better company than any cigarette - now, Tim stands alone. Sometimes Brian comes for him though, giving him some kind of wacky pose and a peck on the cheek, making his heart do goofy things.

Because he has another big issue besides the operator.

A major dilemma.

He … really likes … both of them.

He's never contemplated a healthy relationship with more than two people in it … besides that - there's no way in hell Tim can even keep one person around long enough with his skeletons in the closet. Brian … Brian makes it look too easy - he's affectionate as ever and Jay practically melts every time he's smothered with it, and it does strange things to him. Not a jealousy kind - Brian gives them both plenty of attention - but a yearning. He really … really wants to touch Jay like that. And why can't he!? He has every chance in the world and blows it because he's not even sure if Jay would like that from Tim. He gets along well with Brian but … maybe that's why he's being nice to Tim. That the two of them … were just friends.

Long ago Tim would've scoffed at thinking he could ever be friends with Merrick after all that happened. Now? It hurts so bad. He doesn't want that … he wants to hug and hold and kiss him so he has the same giddy reactions Brian gets. He wants to lay with them both on a summer afternoon, so warm and peaceful he isn't sure who is who but it doesn't matter because they're all there.

Everyone has dreams like that … really how many actually achieve them … right now Jay is making that possibility increasingly difficult. 

The bathroom is certainly a relic of some forgotten time. The toilet is probably one of the first models ever invented - drawstring hanging from a wooden box above it - and god he doesn't not want to think about how the plumbing works in this place. The electric does - sometimes … there's no lights - but there's not much of need for them … it's always day wherever the fuck they are. The sun sets, sure, but rises a few minutes later - it's either cloudy or rainy and cloudy or misty and cloudy Least it's not frigid, or too hot. He thinks though it probably reflects everyone's mood here. Dark, gloomy, and dull.

He shaves his face carefully with an old single blade razor, using the cracked mirror for a guide. He wonders how it's not rusted away even with all the water damage here. Water. Water. Water. There was so much damn water. It was always damp, foggy, raining, the bricks and planks grown over with mold and should've collapsed decades ago, and of course - an endless ocean. He wonders if maybe he will turn into water and slip through the floorboards.

The building is alive - in it's noises at least. Wind and shudders, wood and stone creaking as it settles, the clanging of some object in a cluttered room untouched for centuries. He finishes shaving, splashing water on his face.

He looks up - His mask reflects in the broken mirror -

"GAH!" He staggers back, bumping his head on the back wall. 

"Everything alright in there?" Wow, he's surprised Jay noticed.

"Yeah just … usual shit."

He's tired - but doesn't want to sleep anymore. He needs to move so he doesn't have to think. Maybe get into a fight … deep down he doesn't want to do that, but right now he's so lousy and bored.

Fuck it.

"Jay, I'm going out…"

"Ok…"

He's going to do the impossible - he's going to go make some goddamn friends, even if it kills him. Surely someone around here had a lead, a suggestion for Tim's next step.

He marches down the street with his empty pill container … he'd run out days ago - nothing was happening … yet. Still, clutching the little plastic thing gave him some relief - filling it with small pebbles and shaking it like a maraca. Ha.

He strides hastily - though with no destination in sight - it's like his first days of college, walking around on campus begrudgingly because he really didn't want to go there but it was the only way his foster family was going to support him - send him away and pray to god normal life fixes him.

Perhaps it's both a nuisance and a blessing the city is just a bunch of cookie cutter apartment buildings on a swirled plane - the only thing that looked different were the small fountains at some of the intersections. This one he passes has a fish spitting water from its mouth. He actually finds himself wondering just how big the place is - might as well go exploring, maybe there was a bad side of town, who the hell knows? Or maybe something comparable to the Midwestern sidewalks and weeds he remembers much earlier in his childhood. 

He shoves his hands into his jeans, hair falling in his face.

Now. How to make friends.

Well he's screwed in that department.

Everyone is hiding from him. He can't just barge in … (can he?)

Maybe if he walks along he'll find someone.

This is boring.

Instead of taking the streets - he settles for moving through the labyrinth of the dark alleyways, shadow dancing on the walls, long and lonely.

They lead out to nearly identical buildings and he's going to go insane. 

Stone after Stone after Stone!

- look up

He's been at it long enough to know when someone is watching him, and side-glances up to the unending lines of shudders. Sure enough - one window reveals a sillohoutte. It's too dark to make out their features, but they're tall, curly hair against the backdrop of a light somewhere inside the building. Tim knows enough that it's rude to stare - but this guy doesn't let up - so he won't either - he has a one-sided staring contest until the person backs away slowly into the depths of the building.

'Weirdo.'

This street looks … worse than the others. There are fissures in the earth, dark cascades leading to ancient temples beneath the city. It's probably not unlike Seattle - a city built on top of another city. He doesn't have much of an interest in uncovering its secrets though - the giant fossil was enough.

But the street still calls to him because it screams "dangerous bullshit", just like Rosswood - which means something waits for him down the avenue. Waiting for him to come find it. So … he goes. It's not like there's anything better to do.

He treads lightly - not sure of what could possibly cave in - taking it as a sign that his mental health might just be improving because in the past, he had no care if a place was unsafe. It didn't matter what happened to him.

There is evidence of a collapse ahead - so he investigates. It looks like someone … pushed the apartment complexes it into the ground, rather than a natural crumble.

There lies in the center, the massive broken remains of an out-of-place silver bauble structure, decorated with hundreds of weird sculptures - each one different then the last. Some were missing their heads, arms, legs, whole torsos. what little light shines off the thing, hitting his eyes in patterns. There is a large glass window, some panels shattered and grown over. But before he can even think about walking into the dark, tetanus filled area, he studies over a particular statue. It's of a little girl, sitting quietly, long flowing hair, and eyes … dead - almost holy like a gothic angel. In her lap is … 

An egg .

The same size and shape as Jay's egg.

'What?'

He feels a creeping dread in his veins and takes in the other faces of the statues - they all look dead, staring leagues away. They all look numb. They all look - realistic . Every detail on the girl's face is perfect. Every strand of hair. There isn't even any carving or welding marks.

It dawns on him … that he's staring, not at statues.

But people.

'Oh god.'

This shouldn't exist. The nervousness curls in his bones, as stone men march around it in synchronizing patterns like guardsmen. Jay . The stone men were always connected to him … so why were they here?

'Don't tell me-' He coughs - and it's a bad one.

"Go back." The voice screams in his temples.

"Fine fine! Just stop it! I'm going back!" He stumbles around, running from the area.

 But the 'angel' listens to him for a change. The blackout doesn't come. He flexes his fingers - he's in control.

" Fool."

"Sh-shut up! What the hell do you know!?" He yells it so it bounces back off the cobble to him. The voice doesn't answer.

"What was that!?" 

No answer.

His teeth grind - he's so damn angry at this thing in his - body! He pulls at his hair until he's kneeling in the street.

"Fool."

"SHUT UP!" 

He doesn't trust them - that's a given. He doesn't trust this city, or these angels, or whatever in the living hell is possessing Jay and he knows they're up to something. They're planning something behind his back and he will feel the pain of his mistakes again . He writhes.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

---

His boyfriend shares a concern regarding a man he saw out the window, a man and an angel apparently, who'd both gone down the old, abandoned district of the city's pathways and aqueducts.

Kevin goes to investigate to quell his paranoia, taking the Observer along - much to his chagrin. The angel refuses to walk in the road normally and sticks to the shadows of the buildings and lampposts and alleyways, constantly arguing with Kevin over meaningless drama.

It's not until they come around a curve when Kevin catches a glimpse of a man crouching in the road - that the Observer jumps out and drags him into an alley.

"What!?"

"No way - I see that stupid human expression on you - you are not going up to him - that's another goddamn angel and I'm not getting in a fight today with that punk ass Moon and his little human meatshield."

"Sounds like you're making a lot of assumptions there …"

"Listen to me, we were lucky enough to make it out alive AS IS. This town has strange folk wandering in all of the time - there's no telling what kind of angel will be here next . Right now - I think we're only a necessity. The last thing I'm going to do is piss the Hermit off into deciding we're disposable because we talked to his " lovebird" the wrong way."

"I'm not going to talk to the angel, just the guy - relax a little."

"FOR FUCKS SAKE KEVIN! You know what Firebrand will do to me if you upset Noah huh? Get. In. THE BUILDING!"

He drags his arm inside - but when he turns, he's been duped. What he's really dragging is a metal pipe and Kevin's running out into the street.

"Kevin? KEVIN! YOU FOOL! GET BACK IN HERE THIS INSTANT!"

He doesn't come closer than ten feet.

The man has white knuckles clenched to his scalp and brow in a permanent furrow.

"Hey dude? You doin' alright?" The voice seems to stir the guy from his trance who unfolds the hands from himself slowly, dark eyes peering up at him through black hair. They search him over - this is someone new. Someone Tim hasn't met before - but they don't radiate violence.

"Can you see me? You speak English right? Anglais?"

Tim nods yes.

"Ok, that's good, that's good… can you stand?" He reaches a hand down, and with a moment's hesitation, he takes it, the other man helping him to his feet. They both come to about the same height.

"Hi, I'm Kevin, what's your name?" 

"Oh … uh Tim."

"Nice to meet you Tim!"

"Uh … thanks."

'Is this how normal people make friends?'

"You're - it doesn't seem like that many people want to uh meet us."

"That's typical around here, nothing personal I bet. People are still working out their mystery problems here and don't want to get caught in another."

"Hmph ... yeah that's just about what got me here, long enough down the line." He says in his sarcastic tone.

"Well, my - pal - over there said you're the moon or something?"

"A what? Oh …That … yeah I'm still not that used to it." He rubs the back of his head.

"Well if it was anything like mine - actually I don't want to be a Debby Downer."

"Oh… Yours? Which … I mean if I can ask that…"

Kevin snorts. "Judgement. But he's standing over there." A thumb points over his shoulder and there is a series of profanities as a shadow slinks away from a lamp pole.

"Wait … you mean he's … not in your head?"

"Well he used to be … 99% of the time he was in control … but once we got here, it kind of outlived its purpose. Besides, the ones that run this city kind of forced us to separate. Which I'm not upset by. At all. Like - huge ass relief dude."

"The Devil…"

"Yep … don't know who let that happen-" Kevin cracks up.

"I'll walk you back - this streets hella haunted and shit, makes you see weird things."

"I gathered that…"

"I think the second worst punishment they give around here is having to walk to the end and back."

"Punishment? What kind of crimes are people committing?"

"Nothing really - It's mostly if you start drama … or get opinionated - they really don't like that." Kevin laughs. "The eighth amendment doesn't seem to apply around here…"

"Hmm…" Tim is ok with allowing Kevin to talk, his voice is friendly, soothing, open-minded. It gives him a sense of contentment. This would probably be a good person to ask.

"Hey, you wouldn't by chance … have any idea how to maybe fight the uh - that thing. I'm stuck in a rut - I don't know like … which step to take. I mean in the past I would've just gone home. Now… he blinks and sees the burning remains of his house.

"Honestly, and I know this is the boring answer but … wait it out. It won't be too long now…"

"For … for what?"

"He'll find a way to cross the barrier with some human puppet - and then he'll destroy us all."

Kevin frowns.

"Not like we're going down easy though, right?" He gives a sad smile.

Tim chews at his knuckles.

"Hey don't worry about it man, enjoy life day by, you know."

He needs to think. To breathe. And most of all too plan.

"I'll … Kevin, right - I'll figure something out … I know I was brought here for a reason … something big is going to happen - I just gotta find it first." He rushes away - then stops.

"Oh, sorry." he returns with a handshake "Thanks for helping me out there."

Despite the newcomers seeming naïvety, Kevin is a wishful thinker. Maybe they can win. Yeah. That would be nice. He could live here with Noah, forevermore - without the threat of the administrator. He would be free.

It's a pleasant dream. But really, how many actually achieve them?

---

The blurry-eyed man sits in an armchair, glasses off and leaning back against the headrest.

The front door opens, and Noah knows instantly it is Kevin by the sound.

"Everything go alright?"

"Yeah, helped the guy back down the street."

"So … how are the new guys?"

"I met both of em,  they seem nice, just a bit shy at first."

"Mmm." They sit in each other's silence for a minute. Kevin sits on the arm next to Noah.

"I think … these guys are going to finally get rid of the keeper."

"From what, the ark?"

"No like … gone gone."

Noah tenses, nails digging into the velvet chair.. " Impossible."  Kevin rubs him soothingly, circles in his back as his pounding heart receded.

"Shh … it's alright." Noah sat back in his seat.

"Sorry…"

"It's alright … but really, I mean it. I've got a feeling."

Noah kicks his leg for a moment.

"I hope you're right…" Kevin rubs a hand through his hair as he falls asleep, needing time for a suitable nap.

Chapter Text

Flashback

(Noah)

They're both a bit miserable.

Because they're hopping trains like boxcar kids. And it's a little fun, if it weren't for the near collisions with the railroad police on multiple occasions; the metal containers are always padlocked and Noah's getting real damn tired of giving his body over to Firebrand just to melt them off; it's either too fricken hot or frigid, and it's not like the movies - you can't see shit inside the box except for faint, rusted holes as they sit amongst pallets of various supplies. And it's even more so because he knows that they could drive a car or literally ANYTHING else but the observer won't allow it, says this is the fastest way to travel with the least amount of tracking - At least he can shut down and mess with security cameras. That trick's pretty nifty. Especially once Noah's ran out of cash and they can't "use anything that will leave a sign" so they've had to steal all their crappy food so far - either that or dumpster diving. 

But they haven't seen the administrator, or the collective members. And Kevin's pretty happy about that. Hell they're both happy. It's better than being followed. He knows they're looking, but the observer knows most of their surveillance tricks, and how to avoid them. He continues to help them even though he's "certain" they will be recaptured and tortured and that this all is a waste of time.

~

It was sometime during the middle of the night, that the train came to a halt, and Noah is roused by who he presumes to be Kevin.

Instead it's Firebrand - Separate.

Noah looked at Firebrand. Firebrand looked at him.

"Dudddeeee." said Kevin.

"Well the name makes sense now." 

He was tall, taller than Noah, and crackled with orange lines like a smoldering piece of wood. He moved in the slightest and embers flew off. Sharp black teeth and small golden eyes breaking his face. He breathed out a puff of smoke.

"You can stop staring any time now." A hundred eyes dotting his upper torso blinked open.

"How are we not supposed to?"

"We have company " 

"I thought you needed to possess me to cross this 'barrier' you keep taking about?"

"That's the theory - but right now you're going to do what I tell you."

~

So it started like that. They hop off the train and are ushered behind a bunch of old rusted metal cargo crates. He tells them to stay put.

They watch as he walks off into the gravel railyard.

The fiery being stood rigid with a cool rage. Noah has no idea who these people are but just that they're the administrators pawn's and they're entirely human. Not even slightly demonic or magical. And they're afraid of Firebrand, but even more so the admin. They stood no chance and they all knew it. It was just another punishment, another joke for his betrayal.

Firebrand uses the fire to starve them of oxygen - falling all relatively at the same time - it's a better death than burning and bubbling skin. 

But there is something else too. One more fight before they can cross the barrier. Cursor. Firebrand thinks it's strange that the keeper only sent Cursor - it's obviously a trap. Others wait out of sight.

The night exploded into arcs of fire, shadows dancing and tall grass lighting up and smoking out. It's all a blur to him - because he didn't listen. He decides to sneak around with Kevin to watch. It's amazing to see. Firebrand floated in the air, black skin cracking open in yellow orange lines as he sent blasts into the faces of the collective members, who each tried their turn to get past him, to nab Noah.

Kevin had even warned him that it was dangerous to be out in the open, but he persisted. If something happened, Noah would take the blame - well something DID happen - and he paid dearly for it. Everything was too complicated for human eyes, just flashes of lights and darks. At one point though - Noah catches the glimpse of a skull - deadhead - almost upon them, but a black ink slinks out from Kevin's mouth and deflects whatever the fuck he had coming. 

It was then that The Observer joined the world of the living like Firebrand, separated from Kevin into a shadow - even though it was night.

"Idiots! You should be hiding!" He said, or something like that - probably with more curses.

But the Observer wasn't listening either as they followed the lights and clouds of smoke in rapt attention. The Observer just sits nervously thanking hell that he's not on the receiving end this time.

However a well timed blow sends the fiery god into the side of a steel warehouse. The two humans didn't even decide on it, running for the wreckage. Because Noah isn't really certain how indestructible the rogue really is.

He doesn't exactly remember - it was both a literal and figurative flash, but it went something like this: Firebrand aimed a small torch of light towards Cursor - who even warned him prior - but it was too late before he realized the dust kicked up in the degree is combustible, and it is out of his control. The sparks reached the cloud and it ignited into a giant flaming ball of heat and smoke. Noah had shoved Kevin to the ground, covering his side as much as possible. He didn't move - even as the burning heat rolled over his back, taking the shirt in seconds and reaching his skin, sliding up over the right side of his face like liquid, such a cruel pain - his voice was stolen, mouth opened in silence. It trickled down his shoulder and forearm, and on to the ground, but Kevin's shielded. The fire is hot but doesn't get to him. 

Noah thinks he might already be dead but holds still as the fire finally dies into smoke, a few lone flames remaining. 

It hurts. Of course it fucking hurts dipshit. He didn't really think about that and he can't think about it right then either. He's rolled onto his stomach and Kevin's screaming and that's a terrible sound he never wants to hear again. It still feels like his back is boiling and he's sobbing like a baby because who wouldn't. bBeathing hurts horribly but he continued to pray that he doesn't go into shock and also that maybe he could pass the fuck out right now but his brains not allowing that either.