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“okay, kid, time to wake up.”
you open your eyes.
the first thing you notice is that there’s a man standing in front of you, staring at you with dark eyes. you don’t recognize him.
the second thing you notice, as you take in how you don’t recognize this man, is that you don’t recognize anything. there are blankets tucked over your body, soft to the touch, and yet as you nudge them aside, you do not remember how you got here. there are walls around you, a room that you’re laying in, and it is as unfamiliar to you as the walls of your own mind, empty and desolate.
you do not know who you are. this, you realize as a fact, and subconsciously one of your own hands moves to clench at the fabric of the very plain purple shirt that you happen to be wearing. your mind feels hopelessly spacious, and you rapidly push at the walls of it like there might be a hidden door or passageway that could give you some answers– nothing happens.
the man sighs, then, loudly enough that it draws your attention from your startled state of being. “oh good, you’ve woken up,” he notes, and something about the saccharine sweetness of his tone has you biting at your lip, hands clenching again against your own will. “i was worried you’d sleep forever.”
“what happened to me?” you ask. your voice comes out rough, hoarse, small. has it always been that way? you don’t know. you’ll never know.
the man frowns, then, and the frown reaches the corners of his eyes, like his entire face is devoted to showcasing the emotion he’s offering. “those dang kids. one of them cast a spell at you– don’t you remember?”
you don’t. you try, and you get a fleeting sense of… well. maybe someone you knew did cast a spell at you. but it goes away as soon as you reach out for it, and you can feel yourself frown in return, shaking your head. “i don’t… no, i can’t…”
the man’s face, once again, morphs into something you might’ve once perceived as faux sympathy but now you do not recognize. “the spell must’ve done worse damage than i thought. do you know who i am?”
“no.” the answer comes easily to you; though your heart pounds a little faster in your chest when he steps into your direction, you cannot place why, nor do you know his name or anything about him except that you don’t know if you like the way he looks at you.
“well, you can call me willy. i am… a mentor to you, in a sense. your parents tried to kill you before, and i saved you. remember that?”
you scrunch your nose, trying– but once again, the memories elude you, and you shake your head. it doesn’t make sense. “why did they try to kill me?”
the man – willy – just sighs, and he sits at the edge of the bed. “because you’re special,” he says. “that’s why those teenagers – the adventurers, the ones that attacked you – were trying to kill you too. they’re all afraid of you.”
“i don’t… i don’t understand,” you whisper, and your voice cracks a little bit at the edges. this is too much. you don’t get it. “who… who am i?”
the man smiles. “you’re Perfect.”
you take in the information you’ve been given. your parents wanted you dead, enough so that they had adventurers come and try to kill you too. willy had saved you, and he saved you again, just with the cost of your memory. why would anyone target your memory?
should it matter? you’re Perfect. despite it all, you want to be Perfect so badly all rationale disappears as you nod, sitting upright in the bed with a shaky sigh.
willy must sense your inner conflict, because his smile loosens, and he offers a hand to you, still sitting at the edge of the bed. “i know this must be confusing,” he says, sympathetically, his voice dropping into a lower register. “but i assure you, you’re perfectly safe here. in fact, i was teaching you how to protect yourself before you were attacked.”
you frown. this… feels weird. you can’t explain it. there’s a void in your chest, one that pulsates under your fingertips as you grip the fabric of your shirt a little harder. “that makes sense,” you say, even though it doesn’t. “because i’m… special.”
“very special,” willy confirms, and the smile drops from his face as he gives you another once-over. “maybe resuming our lessons will jog your memory. care to give it a try?”
it does not feel like a question.
you swallow, and then nod, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. willy stands, still holding your free hand to guide you to your feet, and you’re startled by how little you sway; almost like, despite forgetting everything else, you remember the feeling of freedom, of being able to move.
and then your stomach growls, and you blanch, the sound startling you. that void in your chest tugs at the back of your head, red-cold and curling like smoke into the crevices of your empty mind. it feels soothing, in a way that you don’t think it should be.
willy seems to pick up on this, and he smiles once again. “you felt it then, didn’t you?”
“what is that?” you ask, quietly, rubbing a hand into the sides of your temples. “it feels weird.”
“i told you, you’re special,” willy says, and he starts leading the way out of the room, dropping your hand in the process; hesitantly, you follow. “you have a connection to the greatest power in the entire world. it’s a very rare thing to have, kid. you don’t know how… fortunate you are.”
you don’t feel very special, but there’s an ache in your soul when you think about it. you want to be special, don’t you?
“and… and if i learn from you, i’ll find out who i am?” you ask. it feels redundant when willy’s already told you who you are: you are Perfect, after all. but you still don’t really know what that means.
willy smiles again, that grin composed of sharp teeth and curved edges and a tilt to his head. “i am absolutely sure of it.”
he offers his hand again, and this time, you accept it wholeheartedly.
~~
Something is wrong with Normal.
At least, that’s what Scary thinks, but after everything, she doesn’t dare voice this. It’s bad enough that they let her back into their circle after the fight, bad enough that they insist on forgiving her– most of them, at least, she knows Taylor gives her mean looks behind her back. If she raises her voice about a suspicion she has that could possibly tear the group apart again, she just knows it’ll be the last straw, and then the last people she hasn’t managed to turn away will leave her, and it’ll be exactly what she deserves.
For once, she doesn’t think she wants that. She wants to stay here. But that means she has to keep her observations to herself.
Something, she thinks, is wrong with Normal.
He’s been… quiet. Withdrawn from the others– has been ever since they spent the night at Mrs. Swallows-Oak-Garcia’s place to recuperate from the fighting. They had gone to bed sprawled against the waterlogged couches in the living room – the first sleepover they’ve had in awhile – and when they woke up, Normal had gone to his room and come back down wearing a t-shirt and his usual hoodie tied around his waist, and since then he’s been quiet, withdrawn, suspicious.
Scary likes to think she knows Normal pretty well at this point. One of the reasons she had succeeded in turning him against her was by targeting his weak spots, hitting each like a tightened nerve until he had been unable to hold onto his affections for her. She had been proud of it at one point, even when each hit had simultaneously struck something inside of her : Despite her convictions, she didn’t actually want to lose her friend.
“Who’s ready for a day of just being teens?” Link asks, and despite the apathy in his tone, his eyes give away the spark of excitement he has for the idea; somehow, Scary has the feeling that most of what he said to her had just been to gain her compliance.
Which, whatever. Not like that’s any different than anyone else in her life. Scary doesn’t mind it so much.
“I still don’t trust you,” Taylor sneers, and Scary blinks– was he talking to her? Honestly, she couldn’t tell anymore. “But fine. What did you have in mind, Link? Maybe a nice, rousing game of… ninja?”
“Like, we all try to hit each other? Cause my dads told me that game was dangerous,” Link frowns. “No, I was thinking we could… well, actually, I don’t know. Normal, does your family have any like, soccer balls?”
Normal, who had been lurking at the edge of the conversation with his hands in his pockets, startles, staring at the teens with an exhaustion Scary honestly hadn’t thought him capable of. “Uh. No? No, I don’t think… I don’t think we do.”
“That’s lame,” Scary snorts. “Guess you better call your dad, Link.”
Link nods, and then he pales, his eyes going super wide. “Oh– wait, oh my god, my dad! He probably is so worried about me, maybe I should–”
“--I already called them,” Mrs. Swallows-Oak-Garcia says, and Scary startles at her presence; she will never admit it, but Normal’s mom is a little intimidating in a way Scary cannot comprehend or put to words properly. “Tried to, at least. I… don’t know how you managed to reach your mom, but the phone lines have been down all morning. It’s unfortunate.”
Probably our fault.
“Willy won’t hurt them,” Scary says almost against her will, compulsively, as Link’s expression just grows more dour. “If they’re still with him, anyways. Not when he… when he thinks I’m still on his side. He won’t risk betraying your trust until he has what he wants.”
She had admired that, once. Still does, actually, somewhere deep inside of her, though she’s done her best over the night to bury it deep within her chest where it can’t come out. Now, she just worries.
She doesn’t want to worry. She doesn’t want to care. And yet…
“Okay, well, now what?” Link asks, and he rubs at his eyes. “I think we could all use a break… Mrs. Swallows-Oak-Garcia, is that okay?”
“Of course, dears,” Normal’s mom nods, and she gestures to the kitchen. “I am… not much of a cook, but we do have plenty of ice cream!”
“Ice cream for breakfast?” Both Link and Taylor exclaim in unison, and they grin at each other before racing to the kitchen, leaving just Mrs. Swallows-Oak-Garcia, Scary, and Normal.
Normal, who has been suspiciously quiet. Scary had expected more push back on the concept of taking a day off; he’s been the most driven of them, constantly reminding them of their task at hand and the challenges that they face ahead. Scary never actually thought he’d agree to take some time off, and yet he’s still sitting against the couch, frowning at the pillows like they personally offended him.
“If you need me, I’m going to be in my study,” Mrs. Swallows-Oak-Garcia offers, and she smiles gently at Normal, as though waiting for his response. He still doesn’t say anything, though, and she just sighs. “Try not to damage my house any further?”
“We make no promises,” Scary says dryly.
Mrs. Swallows-Oak-Garcia leaves, and then it’s just Scary and Normal, and Normal’s still staring at the pillows. Scary is pretty used to feeling uncomfortable in her friend group, but something about the situation has her nerves on edge, and she stares pointedly at Normal. “So,” she says, “you’re really okay with a break?”
“You need it, clearly,” Normal finally says, and he glances up, meeting Scary’s gaze for the first time. “I… don’t mind? Dunno what else we should be doing.”
The anchor quest? Scary barely holds herself back from blurting it out loud. It’s… strange, but not unwelcome, that even Normal doesn’t know what to do from here. “Yeah,” she says stupidly, and they settle back into awkward silence.
Luckily, it doesn’t last long. Scary’s counted the amount of statues perched precariously along the walls of the living room – some of which did not survive her magic, which she only slightly feels guilty about – twice before Taylor and Link return, both balancing two bowls of ice cream.
“We didn’t know what you guys wanted, so they’re all chocolate,” Link explains as he hands his spare bowl to Scary before settling down on the couch next to her. “Normal, your mom is the best, does she always let you have ice cream for breakfast?”
For a moment, Normal doesn’t answer, and Scary frowns again. “Not always,” he finally says, slowly, his eyebrows scrunching together. “Only when… when dad isn’t home. My dad does all the cooking, usually, and he says that much sugar is bad for you in the morning.”
“Sounds like my dads,” Link says sadly.
Scary picks at her own bowl. Her stomach is turning too much to actually enjoy the ice cream, but she can’t remember the last time she’s had something to eat, and though she doubts even vegan ice cream is good for you, at least it’s something.
They spend a few minutes in silence, eating at their ice cream. Normal picks at it just like Scary does, while both Link and Taylor wolf theirs down ravenously.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Taylor breaks the silence when he’s finished, and his gaze sweeps the entire room. “Where’s Hermie?”
Right. Scary vaguely remembers watching Hermie flee from the fight yesterday, bolting upstairs like his life had depended on it. Probably a good thing, Scary doesn’t think she’d recognize him as a friend after all the flirting and teasing he’s done, and though she still doesn’t quite understand what Normal sees in him, she doesn’t want him to get hurt.
“Oh, he left,” Normal says, casually.
Three pairs of eyes swing towards him.
“What do you mean, he left?” Taylor points his spoon threateningly at Normal, almost accusingly. “When?”
Normal shrugs, and he sets his half-eaten bowl down, his brows pinched together again. “When I went upstairs last night, my window was open,” he explains. “And a note. He took something of mine and left with it? I don’t know. But he’s not here.”
He stands up, brushing off his shirt and adjusting the hoodie tied around his waist. “Now, if you excuse me,” he says, stilted, “I’m gonna go shower. You guys can have more if you want, though.”
Before any of them can say a word in protest, he storms off, his footsteps echoing up the stairs as he disappears.
“Good riddance,” Link finally says, though he’s frowning. “Weird that Normal didn’t say anything sooner though…”
“My sidekick would never just leave without telling me,” Taylor sniffs haughtily. “There must be something Normal isn’t telling us!”
It was weird. Too weird. There’s a sinking pit in Scary’s stomach, and she swallows.
Something is wrong with Normal, she decides, her insides churning.
But what?
~~
now that you’re awake, you are thrown into training.
for your own protection, willy had insisted. because you are special, and there is something inside of you – magic, he had called it – that can be used to protect you when he isn’t around. that’s why they all want you so badly, willy had told you, the magic that you hold inside you is very dangerous in the wrong hands. they all want to use you.
he had hoped that the training would jog your memory, but so far all it has done is left you exhausted.
you don’t know what you’re doing, that much is clear. willy had quickly grown tired of explaining to you things he deemed common sense; he had shown you how to dress in the warm purple hood that he had acquired for you, how to take small sips of water when your head was hurting, helped you walk and taught you the names of each new location, but that was about as patient as he had gotten.
the pulsing of magic has grown familiar to you in your training. though willy tries his best to coax it out of you, it stays curled around your heart, hiding from the light. sometimes you feel it tugging at the back of your head insistently, but despite your training, you haven’t quite figured out what that tugging means yet.
you try to voice this to willy, once. he had smiled at you in that thin, crooked way he does when you’ve asked a stupid question. it will come to you with time, he had answered.
time. willy is convinced that all you need is time; time for your memories to return, time for the magic to settle properly, time for you to relearn how to wield fire and darkness like tools even though they both feel uncomfortable on your fingertips. the concept of it is foreign, though, because though willy seems like he is waiting for… something, you have been reassured time and time again that you are safe here, that you won’t be attacked again.
still, you push yourself. when willy asks you of your attackers – part of the Daily Questions, a set of questions that willy asks every day to test you – you sit and squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember. sometimes, you can almost see their faces. more often, you remember feelings.
betrayal. lonely. hurt. they all feel wrong, making your chest ache with the intensity of them, but you are sure that they betrayed you, and you tell willy as much. though you can’t recall any more than that, he always nods, satisfied, and moves on to the next one.
you know he’s not satisfied with your progress. the training exhausts you– you can feel it in your body, even if you don’t recognize the signs until the second or third time it happens. the water helps sometimes to alleviate the ache behind your eyes, but most of the time it isn’t enough to stop the way the magic eats at your fingertips, sends sharp buzzing directly into your ears, has you stumbling and eventually collapsing.
your stomach hurts. your body aches. sometimes willy will carry you to the bed, sometimes he will leave you in the training room to wake up disoriented.
eventually, he starts giving you incentives. he gives you a small platter of something with a savory smell, disappointment in his eyes. eat this, he says, as a treat. if you do well, you can have more.
it’s the first time you’ve been instructed to eat something. it is delicious, and your body craves more immediately, but you tune it out instinctively. if it was important, willy wouldn’t be using it solely to motivate you… would he?
and so, time passes. the skies here are dark, and willy doesn’t like you going outside much, even if the fresh air feels nice on your face. every time you wake, he asks you the Daily Questions, and then you get to work. if he’s in a good mood, he gives you a glass of water and shares some of his own magic, but with each passing slumber, those good moods seem to happen less and less frequently.
through it all, none of your memories return: just those feelings, the loneliness that sits heavy on your bones, the way every loud sound has you flinching, the fear that has you lingering in bed after waking, wanting nothing more than to run away from it all.
but you can’t. willy needs you to be Perfect. you need yourself to be Perfect. the desire for his approval, for the memories to come back, for the power he says you have to manifest, overrides all else. you don’t have the time to be scared.
all you can do is practice, and focus, and learn. at least it’s something.
~~
They spend three days at the Oak-Swallows-Garcia household doing absolutely nothing.
It was nice at first, Scary will admit. Mrs. Swallows-Oak-Garcia is friendly, if a little bit kooky from time to time. The longer they spend huddled together on the worn-out living room couch, the more Scary feels like she truly understands why Normal is… the way that he is, to put it nicely. For days, they’ve eaten cheap, sugar-free candies, veggie crisps, and ice cream, and very little else. It was nice for awhile – and the vegan ice cream, if anything, doesn’t hurt Scary’s stomach nearly as badly as regular ice cream does – but after two, three days of it?
Gods help her, she misses her stepdad’s stupid potatoes. This is bad.
For the most part, it’s just her and Link bunkered down in the living room. Taylor refuses to spend any longer than ten minutes in the same room as her, still angry with her treatment of his dad– which, fair enough, Scary supposes she can’t blame him even if she does think it’s stupid. And Normal… spends most of his time up in his room with the door locked, away from the rest of them.
If anything, it just reaffirms her suspicions that something’s wrong. The way Normal’s pulled away reminds Scary of the way she pulled away from them, back when she intentionally wanted them to leave her alone, when she had been so, so afraid of the emotions that linger in the back of her soul, yearning to be released.
Normal has never been the person to shut himself out– in fact, usually it’s quite the opposite, a trait that Scary both loves and hates about him. And yet, every time she tries to ask him about it – the words getting tangled up in her throat, cutting skin and flesh alike – he only shrugs and says he needs time to plan, time to think.
However, by day three, even Taylor is tired of sitting around. His mom hasn’t been answering her phone as of late, Scary infers, and while the agents outside keep them trapped, he must pester Link enough that finally, he calls a teen huddle, pulling Scary and Normal and Taylor all into the office for privacy.
“Look, as nice as this has been,” he starts, glancing almost guiltily at Normal. “Because it has been nice, getting to relax for once, I feel like I don’t remember the last time I slept so much? But… my dad is still out there and I don’t know if he’s okay! And Taylor’s mom, and your mom, Scary– we don’t know if they’re all okay, or if the FBI have them all locked up too! We need to get out of here. Any ideas?”
Slowly, Scary watches as both he and Taylor turn to stare at Normal.
“Hey, don’t look at me!” Normal protests. “Besides, my mom was very generous to let us all stay here, even though it put her at such a terrible risk. If Willy finds out we’re here, he’ll probably order the cops to kill us, and her. Are you sure you want to put your own parents in danger like that?”
He’s not wrong. There’s a reason Scary hasn’t brought up how much she misses her mom– she doesn’t want to put her in unnecessary danger. However, it is such an un- Normal-like thing to say, and she shivers with the intensity of it.
“Scary, what do you think?” Link turns to her next with that same earnestness that she had despised not even a week ago. “You know Willy the best– do you think he’d hurt Normal’s mom? Or my dad?”
“I…” Scary falters, and then slowly shakes her head. “No, I… I don’t. He doesn’t want anyone else to die.”
“You still believe that?” Normal scoffs, and he turns away from the rest of them, his arms folded. At some point over the course of the last few days, he’s managed to tame his wild mess of curls into a low ponytail, which swishes in a way that Scary would envy if she weren’t just so baffled. “Do whatever you want. I’m staying here.”
“Normal!” Link protests.
“Forget him. We can save our parents without his help,” Taylor declares, though not without glaring daggers at Scary. She gives him the middle finger in response.
“You can stay here too, Scary, if you want,” Link says, looking back at her with those big, pitiful eyes of his. “I mean, if it’s easier.”
“I… I’m not…” Scary falters again.
Whatever she was going to say – though not even she knows what it was she was going to say – dies on her tongue as the air around them shimmers. Faint laughter echoes through the air, and just like before at the headquarters, the space around them gives way to a portal, one that sparkles and bends.
“Dad?” Taylor immediately questions.
It’s not his dad. At this point, Scary almost wishes it was.
No, instead, it’s Hermie. Hermie, who has exchanged his outfit for something that Scary doesn’t recognize, his hair still dyed a shock of bright green but more vibrant than it’s been through their adventure. In his hand he holds a scroll, and the look in his eyes is absolutely murderous.
“You guys take forever,” he complains as soon as he lands in the living room, the portal around him closing near immediately. “I almost got away with killing my dad before he gave me this and told me to come back because, and I quote, “things are about to get real messy and I’ll want to see it”. What the hell does that even mean?”
“Hermie!” Taylor cheers, though his bright expression immediately sours. “Why did you leave? Without telling me?”
“Didn’t Normal tell you?” Hermie questions, and his head whips around to stare intensely into the back of Normal’s head. “I thought for sure you would follow me, even if only to mock me for my own genius.”
“Normal, what is he talking about?”
Normal just sighs, and he finally turns back around, though he doesn’t even look in Hermie’s direction. “If you wanted a reaction, you should’ve stayed and not just left a note,” he says tiredly, with a halfhearted shrug. “Didn’t think you wanted to be followed.”
For a split second, Scary catches an absolute absurd expression flit across Hermie’s face.
“Well, whatever, I found your stupid anchor all on my own.” He waves the scroll in the air, frowning at each of them in turn. “So, you’re welcome.”
His gaze settles right back on Normal, who… doesn’t even react.
“Oh… thanks, Hermie.” Link says slowly, each word dragging. “Guess we… gotta break it, huh?”
“I’ll do the honors.” Normal finally steps forward, hands outstretched for the anchor. Hermie merely holds it out of his reach.
“I think a thank you is in order,” he sneers, waving it high in the air where Normal can’t reach. “I even brought your stupid mascot costume back, should be in your room where I found it.”
“Wait, wait,” Scary finally interrupts. “Norm, he took your mascot?”
“Yeah, cause he’s from Chaparral,” Normal says easily. “That’s what the note said, anyways. I don’t know, it didn’t really seem important. Not like I’m the mascot right now, not until we finish… whatever mission this is. Right?”
Scary just stares at him.
“And, Hermie, if you wanted acknowledgement for your thievery, you should’ve just stayed away.” Normal sniffs, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know why you keep coming with us in the first place if you finally got what you wanted. It’s not like anyone else is nice to you?”
Hermie makes a sound like a dying seal.
“You can have the costume if it’s so important to you. But I think we do need the anchor.” Normal punctuates his words via doing the silliest little hop that Scary’s seen of him– it’s stupid, but effective, and he very easily snags the scroll right out of Hermie’s hands.
The anchor of joy, Willy’s voice echoes in Scary’s head, and she shudders. Normal can break it easy with empathy, she thinks. I should stop him. Or help him. I don’t know.
Normal has never needed her help though, and he simply tears the anchor, the world shuddering for a moment before returning right back to normal. “Okay, done,” he says, and the scroll disintegrates in his hands. “Now what? Still wanna go after your parents?”
“It might be for the best if we leave them alone now,” Scary voices, and she cringes at the way Link and Taylor both look at her, like they weren’t expecting the words. “Look, I… I get it. But Mrs. Swallows-Oak-Garcia seems to be fine on her own, so I bet your parents are fine too. The best thing we could do for them is to, like, get this over with. And that means finding the last anchor. Right?”
Gods, when did she become the impromptu leader again? Suddenly, Scary remembers how it was so easy to betray the others in the first place; she doesn’t like the way they are still looking at her.
“Then we go to headquarters,” Normal nods with a deep sigh. “I bet our other parents are still there… I don’t really want to see my dad or my uncle right now, but maybe we can sneak back in and get to the– what was it called. Amagara Fault door?”
“The last anchor is there, isn’t it?” Link finally looks away from Scary to focus that intense gaze at Normal instead. “Back at the Old Earth.”
“I… I think so.” Normal bites his lip, but he nods, his hand coming to his chest in a worrying gesture. “Pretty sure, that’s what I remember.”
You’re supposed to have a sense for this sort of thing. Scary almost voices. Almost.
“It’s the best plan we’ve got,” Link nods, and he glances at Scary again, and then to Taylor. “Is that okay with you guys? We go back to Headquarters, maybe deal with our dads, and find the Amagara Fault door to cross back to the other realm?”
“I can’t believe we’re just gonna go back there,” Taylor mutters, but he nods.
“I’m in.” Scary nods. Maybe then, Willy will leave me alone. She doubts it, but he hasn’t spoken to her once in the days they’ve spent at Mrs. Swallows-Oak-Garcia’s place, and vaguely she wonders if that means he’s finally stopped trying so hard.
“Great. Wonderful. Let’s go.” Normal holds out his hands, and reluctantly, Scary and Link both reach out to take them.
~~
something must be happening.
willy brings you to the center of the place you’ve been staying. there are rows and rows of seats like the one repurposed for your room, and a giant throne in the middle that oozes with viscous black liquid. you’ve been in here before, but only briefly: for some reason or another, willy hadn’t wanted you to see the throne.
“the third one was just broken,” willy is muttering to himself. you don’t know what he’s talking about. “the fourth won’t be far behind, they have a way here. then, it’ll finally be time.”
he turns to you now, his eyes dark. “you’ve done well in your training,” he says– the first compliment you’ve heard from him in a long while. “soon, it will be time to fulfill your destiny. are you ready for it?”
no, you think. even now, your legs still tremble underneath you, and not even the sleeves of the hooded cloak you’ve commandeered keeps you warm. “i… i don’t know.”
“right. you’ve never gotten to truly feel your power, have you?” willy makes a clicking sound with his tongue, and then he gestures off to the side. his own magic flashes here: a swirl of purple, spiraling around and around until it forms what looks like another person.
almost. their skin is all cracked, their eyes empty and lifeless.
“this is a homunculus,” willy explains, “that i’ve made for training purposes. for you, since you apparently don’t feel ready. all the magic we’ve worked on together? this is where it all comes together. destroy it.”
as he speaks, the twisted not-person starts to move, their eyes blinking, their mouth twisting. it looks… real. more real than it had before, at least.
then, what willy said to you registers. destroy it?
“it’s not real, idiot,” willy snaps when you hesitate– like he had sensed your thoughts. “just animated clay and the soul of a mouse that will harmlessly go right back to its stupid mouse body. all you have to do is finish the job.”
you gulp, and despite every muscle in your body screaming at you to stop, stop, this isn’t you, this isn’t right, stop! you raise your hands, and concentrate.
magic is difficult. you feel disconnected from… wherever it might come from, the tug of energy distant and far off. willy hasn’t been pleased with this, something he’s made very clear: you can’t remember the last time he ever rewarded you for your work, after all.
still, you know the spells he’s taught you, and with shaking hands, you gesture towards the homunculus and cast fire.
magical tendrils shoot from your fingertips. the blast is still weak, but willy doesn’t sneer this time, so you think you might’ve actually done pretty well. it engulfs the homunculus, their skin melting right off into clay, expression twisting in pain.
this is wrong. you shouldn’t be doing this. you have to physically shove the thoughts away, swallowing deeply as you end the spell.
“there, see? it’s not so hard.” willy encourages, and when you look back at him, he’s not… smiling, but he does look more pleased at your progress than he has in awhile. “you’re ready.”
ready for what? you almost voice this, but as always, willy just shakes his head with a sigh, and he turns away from you, staring off towards the entrance of the building.
“this place is sacred,” he says, softly. “that connection you feel? it is to this place, to the gods that used to live here. soon, the people who attacked you before will be here, because they can use you– if they sacrifice you before you have the chance to reclaim that power and wake the sleeping gods, they will control that power instead. it’s just as i’ve told you, they want you dead.”
“oh.” you don’t know who would bother coming all the way out here for you, but once again that feeling – the way you so badly want to be Perfect, the loneliness and fear that sits heavy in your stomach – rises up like bile in your lungs, and you inhale sharply to dispel it. “and you think i can stop them?”
“hopefully, you won’t have to.” willy turns back to you, and he gestures towards the throne. “when the skies shake and the throne comes alive, all you have to do is sit down upon it, and your destiny will be complete. you are Perfect for this role, the only one who could do it. your power will wake up the sleeping gods, and you will be the most powerful in all the land. isn’t that exciting?”
not really. you don’t really want to be super powerful, but… if it means not being so weak all the time… always prone to collapsing or exhaustion…
“i guess so,” you answer, and you muster a small smile as willy finally, finally smiles at you too.
“good boy,” he says, and you perk up a little at the compliment. “it shouldn’t be too much longer, so here: i’ve brought you a treat to keep you on your feet, and as soon as the skies change, you can go to the throne. sound good?”
“okay.” you take his hand again, and he leads you out to the other rooms in the building.
you think you might be excited for the skies to change. after all this time, you can finally, truly be Perfect, just the way you’d always envisioned you’d be.
and nothing can stop you. not willy, and certainly not the people who tried to kill you before. if they come…
…well, they’ll have another thing coming, won’t they?
~~
Somehow, they make it back to the HQ.
Mrs. Swallows-Oak-Garcia had helped, leading them out of the house. The FBI weren’t going to hurt her, it turns out, so she was able to drive them all over to where the office was, though she had frowned suspiciously at the place and, at the last minute, handed Normal a loaded gun “for protection”.
And now, they were here.
“Crazy that the last time we were here, we went to Hell,” Link says glumly. He doesn’t really look enthused about the possibility of running into his dad again, which is only a little surprising for Scary– she thought he’d be more excited. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Normal also doesn’t look all that impressed to be back, but he just clutches to the gun, warily scanning their surroundings as they quickly pile into the above-ground room that functions as the entrance to the headquarters.
“It’s on the bottom floor, right?” Link mutters, and he steps immediately to the Up-Down room, even though Scary’s stomach still hasn’t settled from the last time they had taken this room to do something. “We can just…”
Whatever he was going to say gets cut off immediately as said Up-Down room opens, and standing inside are… their fucking dads.
Of course.
Scary recognizes her stupid stepdad in the back, looking tired and grim. The other dads – Normal’s dad and uncle, and Grant’s dad – all bear bruises and scuffs like they were still suffering from the humiliating defeat they suffered at the hands of their kids, and, most surprising, they all looked startled.
“Link!” Mr. Li-Wilson exclaims, stepping forward. He’s stopped only by Normal’s dad – the weird hippy one, not the gun happy one, whichever is Normal’s real dad – who puts a hand out, staring at them with something Scary recognizes as immense trepidation.
“Normal,” he says quietly, and he stares at each and every one of them. “I… thought you were in Hell?”
“How did you know about that?” Taylor accuses, immediately jumping to the front with a vicious glare that Scary is almost proud of.
“I mean, we have security footage?” Mr. Oak-Swallows-Garcia says almost nervously. “We saw where you guys went.”
“Likely story,” Taylor sneers, and his hand is on his sword almost immediately.
“Taylor, Taylor, stop,” Link puts a hand on his shoulder, and then he lifts his chin, glaring. “I hope you guys aren’t gonna try to stop us again,” he says, sounding braver than he looks. “We are going to the fourth anchor and you can’t say anything to change our minds.”
Mr. Li-Wilson looks like he wants to say anything, but Mr. Oak-Swallows-Garcia is still holding his hands out.
“We don’t plan on stopping you,” he says, quietly, in that same placating tone he’d had with Link and Taylor and Normal before. Scary hadn’t been there, of course, but Willy had insisted on watching the cameras so they’d know when to come back, and it had seemed smart at the time.
…was he watching now? Were they just following his own plan?
“You shouldn’t be here at all!” Normal snaps, his chin raised. “Mom thinks you’re missing! Didn’t you promise to go tell her the truth for once?”
“I…” Mr. Oak-Swallows-Garcia falters, and then his gaze narrows, focused on Normal. “Wait. That mark…”
“Admit it,” Normal continues, his tone increasing in intensity. “You’re a coward who doesn’t want to face things when they get hard!”
“Normal doesn’t have a birthmark there,” Mr. Oak-Swallows-Garcia murmurs, and he pales, tapping his brother on the arm with the hand not holding Mr. Li-Wilson back. “Tell me I’m going crazy. Tell me that’s not–”
“-his mark,” Normal’s uncle finishes, and they’re both staring at Normal now, wide-eyed.
“What?” Normal frowns, crossing his arms. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?”
“Yeah, what are you talking about?” Link glances from Normal to the Oak-Garcia’s and back, his eyes all squinty in confusion. “What’s going on? Dad?”
“I… don’t know,” Grant’s dad frowns, and he and Scary’s stupid stepdad are both looking at the Oak-Garcia’s too, confusion written across both of their faces.
Normal’s dad sighs, and he steps forward, drawing some clay out of a little bag he has attached to his belt. With a whisper that Scary can’t hear, the clay begins to twist around until it vaguely resembles the shape of a human, skin and hair and all. “I can’t do anything bigger than this,” he says wistfully. “But this is a homunculus– the body of a human made with clay and shaped to the creator’s liking. As it is, it’s just a hollow shell, but if you infuse it with a soul, it becomes animated, walking and talking and acting just like a real person.”
Scary narrows her eyes. Suddenly, she has a faint idea where this might go, and she doesn’t like it.
“There’s a couple of ways you can use a soul to animate a homunculus.” Mr. Oak-Swallows-Garcia twists his hands, and the clay-creature spins. “You can take a soul from a non-human creature, letting it come to life in human form. You could siphon the soul of a living person into a homunculus, leaving their body a soulless husk while the homunculus thinks and acts like the real deal. Or, and the hardest version of all; you can infuse a memory into a homunculus, accompanied by the soul of something else – another person, or an animal – to make it think that it is someone else entirely.”
“This is really neat, but why are you telling us this?” Link asks. “I mean, it sounds like you just want to distract us from getting to the anchor.”
Mr. Oak-Swallows-Garcia huffs, and the clay melts in his hands, going back to a mushy block that he tucks away again. “Our grandfather is very good at making homunculi,” he explains. “When he captured my brother and I, he made us behave via taking our souls from our actual bodies and putting us into homunculi– it made us easier to control, he claimed. If Father hadn’t realized the truth of it, he might’ve kept our actual bodies forever.”
Normal’s uncle grumbles something under his breath. Scary just tunes him out.
“His downfall – my grandfather’s – is that all of his homunculi had the same mark.” Mr. Oak-Swallows-Garcia hesitates, and then reaches out like he’s going to do… something to Normal. Whatever his plan was, Normal just steps out of his reach, his expression stony and cold and foreign, and his dad sighs again. “That little freckle mark, under the right eye. Normal… you’ve never had that mark before. I would know.”
“So… what, are you saying I’m not real?” Normal scowls, his eyebrows raised.
“That’s my grandfather’s signature for all of his homunculi,” Mr. Oak-Swallows-Garcia says, sounding tired and sad. “It… it’s probably just that your soul was transferred, but I don’t know who would have your body?”
“Willy,” Scary says automatically.
Everyone turns and looks at her– from Normal’s dad to Link’s dad to Link and Taylor and even her own stupid stepdad.
“I mean, in the… book you guys wrote on your lives, or whatever, you mentioned that Willy and your grandfather worked together,” she tries to explain, the words coming out of her like knives– sharp and prickling, tearing her up from the inside out. “He probably got the homunculus from there. It makes sense, right?”
“This is crazy.” Normal takes another step back, and his hands are up almost defensively, glaring at Scary and then at his dad and back. “I’m not… I’m not a homunculus! I’m just Normal! Regular old Normal!”
“I hope so,” his dad says sadly. “But if… if you’re right, Scary, and Willy has access to homunculi…”
Scary swallows.
She doesn’t want to be right. In fact, she hopes more than anything that she’s wrong, but…
…well. Willy’s not talking to her. Willy wouldn’t just drop her… would he?
Not without finding someone else.
“Well, whatever the case, we’re not going to stop you anymore,” her stupid stepdad finally intervenes, and when Scary glances to the Up-Down room, he’s looking right at her, a dark light in his eyes. “Right? Guys?”
“I still think this is a stupid idea,” Normal’s uncle mutters, but Mr. Oak-Swallows-Garcia just elbows him hard and he shuts right up.
“I think the last anchor is at the church,” Normal says, and he shrugs off the way everyone looks at him once again. “Stop looking at me, I’m fine, I’m not a homunculus, we all know my dad is stupid! Let’s just… let’s just go to the fucking church, okay?”
“If… if you say so,” Link frowns. “Do we really want to take our dads with us though?”
“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Scary says. “Unfortunately, they might… might be our best chance at navigating.” She cringes a little bit: it feels weird to admit that she doesn’t know what to do, for some reason.
So, reluctantly, they pile into the Up-Down room. Scary positions herself between the sliding door and Link so she doesn’t have to be squished against her stupid stepdad.
It’s an awkward ride down. Link and Taylor talk in hushed tones, Normal is glaring lasers into the wall, and the dads all stay quiet like they don’t want to start another fight between them just by speaking, which is very possible!
But, eventually, they make their way to the basement, where the Amagara Fault door lays. Normal shoves forwards almost immediately, his hands buried in the folds of the hoodie he has tied around his waist, and Scary follows, trying to match his pace.
“You know,” she tells him, as softly as she can muster. “It’d be okay if you were a. Whatever that thing was called. It’s not like you’re not any less yourself.”
“I am myself.” Normal asserts, and he groans in frustration. “I just… there’s so much I don’t understand. You guys keep treating me like I’m some fake. I’m not, I’m just regular me.”
You don’t act like regular you, Scary thinks, but she swallows it down.
“You guys treat me the same way,” she points out instead, and she places a hand gently on Normal’s shoulder. “Look. I don’t– anything could happen when we get to the church, so I just want…”
Normal turns his head and looks at her. There’s a weariness in his eyes, and now that his dad has pointed it out, Scary can’t unsee the mark that graces his cheek, right underneath his right eye. Yeah, she doesn’t think that was there before, but it doesn’t have to mean anything… does it?
“You just want…?” Normal prompts, still staring at her with that weariness.
“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Scary drops her hand just in time for Taylor and Link to catch up to them, the dads right behind.
“Once we cross into the other world, Lark will call for transportation,” Mr. Oak-Swallows-Garcia says, his voice darker than it had been when they were still upstairs. “The church is… not a very pleasant place to visit, though.”
“Don’t bother, I tried telling them the same thing,” Link’s dad huffs.
“You just didn’t want us finding out a way to help the Doodler,” Normal scoffs, and he rolls his eyes. “If you guys are helping us, that means following our lead, right? So stop treating us like we don’t know what we’re doing, we’re long past that.”
“Right, right,” Mr. Oak-Swallows-Garcia is still staring at Normal like he’s going to shatter, like he can’t recognize his own son. “If we find Willy… we can find out the truth about where your body is, and then everything will be fine! I can do the soul transfer in a non-violent way, it was one of the first things I learned.”
His shoulders slump as he says this, and it would make Scary feel sorry for the poor fuck if he weren’t still staring at Normal like that.
“Right,” Normal says dubiously. “Whatever. Let’s just go. Ready guys?”
He stands in front of his section of the door. Scary steps in front of hers as well, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Link and Taylor follow suit, and the dads – and Hermie, who she had totally forgotten about until she sees him lurking in the back – stay behind them, and the portal opens.
And they step through, prepared to face whatever may come their way in the church.